To Eat Or Not To Eat.

A room in the castle.
A distant fanfare is heard.
Enter through flap-cullis: Lord Millhouse, with much ceremony, bearing yet another mouse which he proceeds to chew upon lightly!
I am sat before my bowl, tail gently tapping, and patiently awaiting the morning mincey slop which my master is contractually bound to plop. Say I, "My Lord, t'is apparent that, yet again upon this early day, you see fit to remind us of your deadly play. Thou hast, indeed brought us a handsome bounty fit for a..well quite small... king. Aye but, I do beg, offer me not such crude debauchery; for I, prince Herk, do prefer the more delicate flavours from the royal pouchery... e'en tho' oft squelched out in such an unbecoming manner."
"See," sayeth Lord Millhouse, with mouth abrim, for he's still plying his sad victim, "how I do earn my keep? Tho', alas I do fear I've chewed too deep and of form 'tis a little mangled now, to gift to the master, anyhow."
He dropped it 'pon the kitchen floor and awaited the master through yon door.
My hunger now waned a little to greet what Lord Millhouse had brought to eat.
Sitting aloof, I did espouse, he did not ought to eat that mouse.
"To eat, or not to eat: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
Eating the bones and marrows of this good fortune,
Or to stand firm against the sea of troubles it causes,
And by refusing end them? To starve: to sleep;
Bring no more mice; and by a sleep to say we end
The ear-ache and the thousand verbal tellings off
That we're subjected to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To lie, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of hunger what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off leaving his mousey spoils,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long a wait for the next meal;
For what cat would bear the whips and scorns of his master
Having house rules wronged, and viewed the angry man's dustpan sweep,
Thence the pangs of deprived cupboard love, the food pouches's delay,
The insolence of humans, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
By eating the mouse's body? who would fangs bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary (nine) lives,
But that the dread of no pouches until death,
The tenth time fromwhich no puss cat returns'
Puzzles the will,
And makes us rather destroy the evidence
Than get into more trouble ever hence?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the decision to leave the mouse there
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pride and moment
With this regard their currents turned awry,
And lost the name of action. Hasten you now!
The master comes! Quick! Millhouse, eat that damned mouse
Or banned we'll ever be from this house!"

Enter the master.

With a flourish.
"Good my lords, how do your honours for this many a day?"

"We humbly thank you; well, well, well!" I replied as Lord Millhouse swallowed the last bone with a shudder.



Herkspeare