I am that cunning infidel By men called CHANCE,you know me well. It is through me you met your wives; Through me your harvest blights or thrives; And one and all, through me, to-day Hither you came to see the play, Which if your favor still you lend, As now, so on until the end, You shall be taught what way a King Though a sublime and awful thing And even wise, may come to be A laughing-stock,and all through me!