Misty, my love!

Where are you? D=

 

She's readying her Death Star to fire at you. >|

 

Really? But... I thought only Alderann was a viable target? O_O..
I mean, I still approve of her use of it, but...
I figured she had just ran the hell away when she saw Amaury coming. :/
To actually use the Death Star now... it looks like Amaury finally pushed her too far with his romantic advances. XD

 

Tell her to hurry and just blow it all up, already.

 

Misty only loves Sabby.

 

She's in a Galaxy far, far away....

 

Yes. I mean, she wants Sabby for her body.

Then again, who doesn't?

 

Your Misty is in another castle

 

Is Misty finding this creepy yet?

 

...

 

...

 

I was expecting Amaury to break into Shakespearean dialect.

Disappointing.

 

Funny you should say that. The next book we got yesterday in Senior English was Hamlet.

 

...

Amst I bovvered?

Looketh at my face. Looketh at my face!

Ist this a bovvered face?

 

To be or not to be, that is the question. Whether it be nobler in the mind then under a sea of worries, aye, to die, to sleep perchance to dream there is the rub, for in that sleep of death, what dreams can there be? When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, for who will bear the whips and cords of times, and by opposing... end them.

ANd that's all I remember of the soliloquy.

Good luck with the longest of Shakespeare's works.

 

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to die, to sleep
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks
That Flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to Dream; Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes Calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of time,
The Oppressor's wrong, the proud man's Contumely,
The pangs of despised Love, the Law’s delay,
The insolence of Office, and the Spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his Quietus make
With a bare Bodkin? Who would Fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered Country, from whose bourn
No Traveller returns, Puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus Conscience does make Cowards of us all,
And thus the Native hue of Resolution
Is sicklied o'er, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their Currents turn awry,
And lose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia? Nymph, in thy Orisons
Be all my sins remembered.​

I actually had to memorize one of his monologues for A Midsummer Night's Dream. We were given I think a week.

Did it in 2 days. And then I didn't get a part. fml

 

...you've never seen the video, have you?

I'll VM you the link when I get home.