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Theatre Of Tragedy
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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
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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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