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,
And descant on mine own deformity,
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these ways,

In the shadow of my Master do I walk,
Or stumble over vile and leprous feet,
By chance, to seize His used and battered women,
Whom glower at me through black and swollen eyes,
Might I take my belligerence out,
For sake of mine sanity so close to fringe,
A lonely fool am I to remain upon this earth,
But per chance I may constant dream,
Of unearthly planes of frozen blessed bliss,
The solemn night of my most cherished demise.