God's will! my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this royal battle!
Have I thought long to see this morningโs face, And doth it give me such a sight as this?
How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
Thou art a very ragged Wart.
We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
I shall show the cinders of my spirits Through the ashes of my chance.