Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer

The Churns and Reviews of a Freemium Launching,

Or Call-to-Action against a Sea of Funnels,

And by so closing, sell them: to die, to sleep

No more; and by a sleep, to say we end

The Startup, and the thousand Natural shocks

Free Work is heir to? 'Tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep,

To sleep, perchance to Dream; aye, there's the rub,

For in that Startup death, what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this failed toil,

Must give us pause. There's the respect

That makes Calamity of unpaid-for work:

For who would bear the Whips and Scorns online,

The Harassers pr0n, the troll man's Obscenely,

The pangs of despised Launch, PayPal’s delay,

The insolence of Coders, and the Spurns

That patient merit of the spammers takes,

When he himself might his Quietus make

With a Paid Signup? Who would Zuckerberg,

To grunt and sweat under an ad-free 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 ads we have,

Than fly to others that we know not of.

Thus Freemium does make Cowards of us all,

And thus the Native hue of PayG

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 Call to Action. Soft you now,

The fair Dropboxia? Nymph, in my Support Mails

Be all thy sins remembered.