Use Every Man After His Desert, And

Awake, Awake, English Nobility! Let Not Sloth Dim Your Horrors New-begot.

But I, That Am Not Shaped For Sportive Tricks, Nor Made To Court An Amorous Looking-glass; I, That Am Rudely Stamped, And Want Love's Majesty To Strut Before A Wanton Ambling Nymph; I, That Am Curtailed Of This Fair Proportion, Cheated Of Feature By Dissembling Nature, Deformed, Unfinished, Sent Before My Time Into This Breathing World, Scarce Half Made Up, And That So Lamely And Unfashionable That Dogs Bark At Me As I Halt By Them,-- Why, I, In This Weak Piping Time Of Peace, Have No Delight To Pass Away The Time, Unless To Spy My Shadow In The Sun.

Cry "havoc!" And Let Loose The Dogs Of War, That This Foul Deed Shall Smell Above The Earth With Carrion Men, Groaning For Burial.

O Love, Be Moderate, Allay Thy Ecstasy, In Measure Rain Thy Joy, Scant This Excess!

Well-apparel'd April On The Heel Of Limping Winter Treads.