Theatre Of Tragedy - To These Words I Beheld No Tongue
Whether The Thonéd Monarch Weareth The Crown,
Which I Know Not Whether To His Belongeth;
Doth He Hence The Sceptre Sway?
Seasoneth He Justice? -
Daresay I He Doth Not,
Will He Then Use His Sceptre As A Wand? -
Where Doth Sit My Awe? - Trieth Me Conjure;
Perchance A Spell?; A Reptile, A Sullied Hound? -
Is The Gentle Rain A Quality Of His? -
I Bethink This Fro My Thoughts; Hitherto, About This,
I Beheld To These Words No Tongue; Are The
Monarchs's Men His Thralls Or His Servants? -
Oft I Waylay My Tongue -
Those Of Which Are Withal By My Gnarléd Heart Not Heed'd;
Or Doth The Trostle Sing With More Glee
At Daybreak Than A Twilight? -
Brawl Not My Imp, Nor My Cherub; Reserve My Judgement -
Crave Not The Sword When The Bodkin Fro Ere Thine Is;
That Undiscover'd Country; Be That
Of Calamity, Be That Of Joy, Be That Of Apathy;
Tread Not Paths Of New When Those Of Old Are
Far By An Only Single Footstep; Walk, Be It
On The Left, On The Right - Be It The One Which
Straight Forward Leadeth, The One Of Correct
I Have As Until Now Not Heed'd Any Signs Of
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