What a piece of work is man How noble in reason How infinite in faculties In form and moving how express and admirable In action how like an angel In apprehension how like a god The beauty of the world The paragon of animals I have of late But wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth This goodly frame The earth seems to me a sterile promontory This most excellent canopy The air look you This brave o'erhanging firmament This majestical roof Fretted with golden fire Why it appears no other thing to me Than a foul and pestilent congregation Of vapors What a piece of work is man How noble in reason