I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth.And indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame the earth seems to me a sterile promontory.It's a most excellent canopy, the air.Look you, this brave, o'er hanging firmament.This majestical roof fretted with golden fire.Why, it appeareth nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors. What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties,how like an angel in apprehension.HOW like a GOD! The beauty of the world; Paragon of animals.Yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me.No, nor women neither……Nor women neither.