What a piece of work is my tweet!
How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty!
In form and moving how express and admirable!
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty feed from day to day,
To the last retweet of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted tweets
The way to dusty death.
Out, out, brief twitterhandle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor tweeter,
That struts and frets his hour upon the feed,
And then is heard no more.
It is a tweet typed by an idiot,
full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
O, reason not the feed! Our basest twitters
Are in the poorest thing superfluous.
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Tweet's life's as cheap as beast's.
Now is the winter of our discon-tweet
Made glorious summer by this prime content.
And all the subtweets that lowered upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
If these twitters have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended:
That you have but retweeted here,
While these visions did appear;
And this weak and idle meme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend.
If you @ us, we will mend.