Of all the court and princes of my blood:
	The hope and expectation of thy time
	Is ruin'd, and the soul of every man
	Prophetically doth forethink thy fall.
	Had I so lavish of my presence been,
	So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men,
	So stale and cheap to vulgar company,
	Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
	Had still kept loyal to possession
	And left me in reputeless banishment,
	A fellow of no mark nor likelihood.
	By being seldom seen, I could not stir
	But like a comet I was wonder'd at;
	That men would tell their children 'This is he;'
	Others would say 'Where, which is Bolingbroke?'
	And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
	And dress'd myself in such humility
	That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
	Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
	Even in the presence of the crowned king.