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!