Sunday, January 13, 2013

What a piece of work

I have of late, but wherefore
I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercise;
and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition;
that this goodly frame the Earth, seemes to me a sterile
Promontory; this most excellent canopy the air,
look you, this brave o'er-hanging firmament, this majestical roof,
fretted with golden fire: why, it appears no other thing
to me, then a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.

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