32NOw is the winter of our discontent,

43Made glorious summer by this sonne of Yorke:

54And all the cloudes that lowrd vpon our house,

65In the deepe bosome of the Ocean buried.

76Now are our browes bound with victorious wreathes,

87Our bruised armes hung vp for monuments,

98Our sterne alarmes changd to merry meetings,

109Our dreadfull marches to delightfull measures.

1110Grim-visagde warre, hath smoothde his wrinkled front,

1211And now in steed of mounting barbed steedes,

1312To fright the soules of fearefull aduersaries.

1413He capers nimbly in a Ladies chamber,

1514To the lasciuious pleasing of a loue.

1615But I that am not shapte for sportiue trickes,

1716Nor made to court an amorous looking glasse,

1817I that am rudely stampt and want loues maiesty,

1918To strut before a wanton ambling Nymph:

2019I that am curtaild of this faire proportion,

2120Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,

2221Deformd, vnfinisht, sent before my time

2322Into this breathing world scarce halfe made vp,

2423And that so lamely and vnfashionable,

2524That dogs barke at me as I halt by them:

2625Why I in this weake piping time of peace

2726Haue no delight to passe away the time,

2827Vnlesse to spie my shadow in the sunne,

2928And descant on mine owne deformity:

3029And therefore since I cannot prooue a louer

3130To entertaine these faire well spoken daies.

A2