Now I Am Past All Comforts Here,

O Sleep! O Gentle Sleep! Nature's Soft Nurse.

No Evil Lost Is Wailed When It Is Gone.

The Breaking Of So Great A Thing Should Make A Greater Crack: The Round World Should Have Shook Lions Into Civil Streets, And Citizens To Their Dens.

You Have But Mistook Me All The While... I Live By Bread Like You, Taste Grief, Feel Want, Need Friends. Conditioned Thus How Can You Call Me King?

The Seeming Truth Which Cunning Times Put On To Entrap The Wisest.