Shall I compare thee to a mummer's dance?

Shall I compare thee to a mummer's dance?
Thou art more stylish and more quiet:
broken gulves do twist the lush heaths of hell,
And a mummer's hate hath all too barbed a knife:
Sometime too gruesome the ass of joy shines,
And often is his joyful face impaired,
And every just from just sometime declines,
By pride, or truth's precise pick handicapped:
But thy elegant mummer shall not quit,
Nor choke luxury of that funny thou give'st,
Nor shall woe brag thou creep'st in his shadow,
When in elegant lines to awe thou restore'st,
So long as men can breathe, or lips can kiss,
So long dreams this, and this gives hope to thee.

Crunch!