Zounds (Shakespearean Melancholia) - Oulipo

What misadventure is so early up?

Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest.

Ah, what an unkind hour

Is guilty of this lamentable chance.

Of much I fear some ill, unthrifty thing,

One writ with me in sour misfortune's book.

More fierce and more inexorable far,

Than empty tiger or the roaring sea.

How is't my soul? Lets talk, it is not day.

Thou calld'st me dog before thou hadst a cause!

But since I am a dog, beware my fangs.

Condemned villain I do apprehend thee.

Wilt thou be gone? Never from this palace
Of dim night depart again.

By heaven, I love thee more than myself.

Had I it written, I would tear the word.

Oh blessed, blessed night! I am afeard,

Night's candles are burned out.

Why, I descend unto this bed of death

Cease thy strife, and leave me to my grief.

Nothing will come of nothing.