To buy, or not to buy that is the question

To buy, or not to buy: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The pangs and arrows of outrageous fashion,
Or to take arms against a sea of markdowns,
And by opposing, end them? To buy: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That wardrobe is heir to; 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To buy, 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 of last season's trends,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long a life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of sales associates,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd couture, the law's delay,
The insolence of boutiques, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare credit card? Who would these burdens bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after shopping,
The undiscover'd 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 "Does this have pockets?",
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 Ophe—Nay, the fair Valentino!
Nymph, in thy online cart be all my sins remember'd!
For ’tis a truth most certain, oft unspoken:
A little treat, to cheer the weary soul,
Is never a expense, but an investment
In thine own joy. Then get thee to a mall!
For who shall love thee, if thou lov’st not thee?