Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Talkers are no good doers.
Virtue and genuine graces in themselves speak what no words can utter.
Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue.
Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head?
Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway, meeting the check of such another day.