Almost Done, Dang It. I Was Getting Obsessed.

This is the third piece of my Shakespeare soliloquy, and I'm back to iambic pentameter (thank goodness!)

And yet, t'was not so consarn'd i'th'beginning;
Temple Grafton gone, experimentation
T'was the essence o'my youthful being.
So insidious was the time, and love:
(5) Venturous, imbecilic 'n'fantastic!
Harmonic Emilia! Where hast thou gone?
Back to thine husband? Thy sickly consort
O'whom all my jealousy rivited up'n?
Ah, perhaps you've gone, ebbed n'waned away
(10) 'Til nothing remains but ardent mem'ry.
Sidney's Puck quoth, "What fools these mortals be!"
Th'flippant faerie may've comprehend'd rightly;
Beings malodorous as I're easily
Confounded. This being th'case, I'm decieved.
(15) Fool-hardy, mine fascinations of old--
Undiluded, unrefined, a'diamond i'th'rough--
Such callow romance did cloud mine eyes,
Those constant, veridical crystals t'th'soul,
That intelligable meditation
(20) T'was unattainable, nay, insanable, a'th'time.
The course of true love never did run smooth;
Lysander found veracity i'that.
Fools who dream do lack th'straight integrity,
Which doth seek out th'dignified n'magnific,
(25) Do gain th'nugget o'purest silver: amour--
Th'fervor which doth battle 'gainst enmity
And pluck detestation out o'th'hard'st bossom.
'Tis true, for Mary Sidney claim'd it so,
And her love for Brooke surely proved it'all.
(30) Ah, tender anemnesis doth dry m'tears
And so lead me t'Aphrodite's sweet pool,
Where meadows n'glen offer breezes o'primrose
And m'darling rests her head up'n fair lilies.