Whether the throned Monarch weareth the crown,
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Which I know not whether to his belongeth;
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Doth he hence the sceptre sway?
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Seasoneth he justice? -
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Daresay I he doth not,
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Will he then use his sceptre as a wand? -
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Where doth sit my awe? - Trieth me conjure;
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Perchance a spell?; a reptile, a sullied hound? -
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Is the gentle rain a quality of his? -
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I bethink this fro my thoughts; hitherto, about this,
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I beheld to these words no tongue; are the
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Monarch's men his thralls or his servants? -
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Oft I waylay my tongue -
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Those of which are withal by my gnarled heart not heed'd;
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Or doth the throstle sing with more glee
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At daybreak than than a twilight? -
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Brawl not my imp, nor my cherub; reserve my judgement -
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Crave not the sword when the bodkin fro ere thine is;
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That undiscover'd country; be that
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Of calamity, be that of joy, be that of apathy;
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Tread not paths of new when those of old are
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Far by an only single footstep; walk, be it
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On the left, on the right - be it the one which
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Straight forward leadeth; the one of correct
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I have as until now not heed'd any signs of!
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-----------------
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To These Words I Beheld No Tongue
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Theatre Of Tragedy |