I have of late—but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that 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 vapours.

What a piece of work is a man!

How noble in reason!

How infinite in faculty!

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!

And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of

dust?

Man delights not me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.

So said Hamlet.

As for me, I find the beauty of the world and the paragon of Animals quite enchanting.