Three time this year,
tragedy my addiction,
will meet up with proffered poor Lear
and his fate, product of vile offspring,
for when he speaks to me,
he be the reminder, of the pain
tenderly tendered by one's own children

“And worse I may be yet: the worst is not
So long as we can say 'This is the worst.”

But where is my truest
brother king,
Henry V, the five,
his eloquence of brotherhood I hear once a day

"From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile
This day shall gentle his condition"

Let me die this way,
companioned and brother championed,
let me not go down into my grave,
grey haired and betrayed by my own *****