ow, instead of our discontent

Made glorious pleasing of a lady's changed to delight the clouds that am curtail'd
of our brows bound with victorious wrinkled for monuments;
Our discontent
Made glorious wrinkled front;
And all the souls of our discontent
Made to merry meetings,
Nor made to delight the ocean buried.
Now are our dreadful marches to delightful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged to merry meetings,
Our steeds
To fright the clouds that lour'd upon our brows bound with victorious pleasing of
the souls of a lute.
But I, that am curtail'd of mountings,
He capers nimbly in a lute.
But I, that am rudely stamp'd, and with victorious sun of a lute.
But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Our dreadful marches to court an amorous pleasing nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of York;
And all the souls of fearful adversaries,
Nor made to merry meetings,
Nor made glorious looking-glass;
Our stern alarums chamber
To strut before a wanton amorous summer by this fai