in case you wondered, I did pass my cleaning check...

The god of love,
That sits above,
And knows me, and knows me,
How pitiful I deserve,--
I mean in singing; but in loving, Leander the good
swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and
a whole bookful of these quondam carpet-mangers,
whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a
blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned
over and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I
cannot show it in rhyme; I have tried: I can find
out no rhyme to 'lady' but 'baby,' an innocent
rhyme; for 'scorn,' 'horn,' a hard rhyme; for,
'school,' 'fool,' a babbling rhyme; very ominous
endings: no, I was not born under a rhyming planet,
nor I cannot woo in festival terms.

Benedick Act 5 Scene 2 Much Ado About Nothing

For a change from the blah of every day, I desired some Shakespeare. I love Much Ado, it's probably my favorite of Shakespeare's works and how well I can identify with what Benedick says, it is so hard to write of love without being utterly cliche, to rhyme without sounding like a dribbling idiot... at least I find it so. I'm told that English is one of the hardest languages to rhyme in. I believe it, as mentioned, I'm studying Italian and it's amazing how much easier it would be to rhyme in Italian; most of the words end in o, a, i, or e opening up the options of words one might rhyme.
To write like the bard, that would be wonderful, alas I dislike taking the time to count out my syllables, I dislike the work of finding rhymes. I will not take the effort to be as Shakespeare and so I must be glad that his works exist for me to read.