To These Words I Beheld No Tongue

Soliloquy by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy Whether the thronéd 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 Monarch'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 throstle sing with more glee At daybreak than a twilight? - Brawl not my imp, nor my cherub; reserve my judgment - 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!