(no subject)
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, seems to me a sterile promontory.
What a piece of work is man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculty,
In form and moving how express and admirable.
In action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god.
The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals
Yet to me what is this quintessence of dust?
Man delights not me...
Lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercise
And indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition
That this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory.
What a piece of work is man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculty,
In form and moving how express and admirable.
In action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god.
The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals
Yet to me what is this quintessence of dust?
Man delights not me...