"I, that am not made in fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by deceitful Nature,
Deformed, un-finished, sent before my time
Into this living world scarce half made up,
And that am so lame and unfashionable
That dogges barke at me as I limp by them.
Why I (in this weak empty time of peace)
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sunne,
And comment on my own deformity.
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
I am determined to prove a villaine."