1 A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.
2 Well, let's away, and say how much is done.
3 My father is not dead, for all your saying.
4 Some say the earth Was feverous, and did shake.
5 It will have blood, they say, blood will have blood.
6 He knows thy thought: Hear his speech, but say thou naught.
7 But they did say their prayers, and address'd them Again to sleep.
8 Within this three mile may you see it coming; I say, a moving grove.
9 Gracious my lord, I should report that which I say I saw, But know not how to do't.
10 The time approaches, That will with due decision make us know What we shall say we have, and what we owe.
11 My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, Which can interpret farther: only, I say, Thing's have been strangely borne.
12 I'll charm the air to give a sound, While you perform your antic round; That this great king may kindly say, Our duties did his welcome pay.
13 Some say he's mad; others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of rule.
14 If you can look into the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow, and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear Your favours nor your hate.