What A Piece Of Work Is A

They Were Devils Incarnate.

Assume A Virtue If You Have It Not.

O, How Shall Summer's Honey Breath Hold Out Against The Wreckful Siege Of Battering Days, When Rocks Impregnable Are Not So Stout, Nor Gates Of Steel So Strong, But Time Decays?

Were Kisses All The Joys In Bed, One Woman Would Another Wed.

Fair Ladies, Masked, Are Roses In Their Bud; Dismasked, The Damask Sweet Commixture Shown, Are Angels Vailing Clouds, Or Roses Blown.