This royal throne of kings
If music be the food of love
Barkloughly Castle call they this at hand?
Down, down I come
I thought you had been willing to resign
This way the king will come
Go fetch me a quart of sack
How many thousand of my poorest subjects
Why doth the crown lie there
Come hither to me Harry
Grief fills the room up of my absent child
But pardon, gentles all, the flat unraised spirits
Suppose that you have seen
Once more unto the breach
Is not that the morning which breaks yonder?
This day is called the Feast of Crispian
Where hast thou been, sister?
If it were done when 'tis done
I have done the deed
Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile
All the world's a stage
But wherefore dost thou come?
Inter their bodies as becomes their birth
Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness
Speak the speech, I pray you
Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves.