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To open, or not to open -- that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The gnawing demon of curosity,
Or to take arms against the beast impatience,
And by opposing slay it? To open, to glance --
One look; and by a glance say we end
The longing and the frustrating restlessness
That flesh is heir to -- 'its a consummation
Devoutly to be wished: to open, to glance.
To glance, perchance to read. Ay, there's the rub;
For in that glance of the instruction booklet what longing might come,
When we have opened up Zelda 64,
And cannot play. Curse the job
That makes long the plodding wait.
For who could bear the beauty of the golden gleam,
The unopened seal, the untouched cart,
The new-bought box which on the desk doth sit,
When he himself might his anxious wait end
At home plugging the cart into N64?
Who would such dragging seconds bear,
To sit and stare at unopened Zelda,
But that the dread of a job lost,
The inability to skip work, from whose hours
No employee veers, stays the hand,
And makes us rather ache for the game
Than fly home to later yearn for a paycheck?
Thus economy does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of self-gratification
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of foresight,
And lengthy hours of Zelda gaming
With this regard their length shorten
And lose the name of non-stop.