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Tired with all these, for restful death I cry As, to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimmed in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded honor shamefully misplaced, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority, And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill, And simple truth miscalled simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill. Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, Save that, to die, I leave my love alone. Creative art of dissapointment.
The poem expresses deep despair and disillusionment with society's corruption and hypocrisy. The artist's intricate digital painting captures the essence of these themes with exceptional detail and skill, evoking a powerful emotional response.