Tritonus - prelude

	(Sonnet 29 by William Shakespeare, read by Bertram Selwyn)
	When, in disgrace with fortune and men´s eyes
	I all alone beweep my outcast state
	And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries
	And look upon myself and curse my fate
	Wishing me like (to) one more rich in hope
	Featured like him, like him with friends possess´d
	Desiring this man´s art and that man´s scope
	With what I most enjoy contented least
	Yet, in these thoughts myself almost despising
	Haply I think on thee (and then my state
	Like to the lark at break of day arising
	From sullen earth, sings hymns at Heaven´s gate
	For thy sweet love) remember´d such wealth brings
	That then I scorn to change my state with kings
	(Sonnet 66 by William Shakespeare, read by Bertram Selwyn)
	Tired with all these, for restful death I cry
	As, to behold desert, a beggar born
	And needy nothing trimm´d in jollity
	And purest faith unhappily forsworn
	And guilded honour 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 miscall´d 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)

	Sonnet 29 by William Shakespeare, read by Bertram Selwyn
	When, in disgrace with fortune and men s eyes
	I all alone beweep my outcast state
	And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries
	And look upon myself and curse my fate
	Wishing me like to one more rich in hope
	Featured like him, like him with friends possess d
	Desiring this man s art and that man s scope
	With what I most enjoy contented least
	Yet, in these thoughts myself almost despising
	Haply I think on thee and then my state
	Like to the lark at break of day arising
	From sullen earth, sings hymns at Heaven s gate
	For thy sweet love remember d such wealth brings
	That then I scorn to change my state with kings
	Sonnet 66 by William Shakespeare, read by Bertram Selwyn
	Tired with all these, for restful death I cry
	As, to behold desert, a beggar born
	And needy nothing trimm d in jollity
	And purest faith unhappily forsworn
	And guilded honour shamefully misplaced
	And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted
	And right perfection wrongfully disgraced
	And strength by limping sway disabled
	And art made tonguetied by authority
	And folly doctorlike controlling skill
	And simple truth miscall d 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