| Beginning | End | Missing Words |
| Now is the winter | |
| made glorious | |
| And all the clouds that | |
| in the deep bosom of the ocean | |
| Now are our brows bound | |
| Our bruised arms hung | |
| Our stern alarums | |
| Our dreadful marches | |
| Grim-visag'd war hath | |
| And now, instead of | |
| to fright the souls | |
| He capers | |
| to the | |
| But I, that | |
| nor made to court an | |
| I, that am | |
| and want love's | |
| before a wanton | |
| I that am curtail'd | |
| cheated of feature by | |
| deform'd, | |
| sent before | |
| | Beginning | End | Missing Words |
| into this breathing world | |
| and that so lamely and | |
| that dogs | |
| Why, I, in this weak | |
| have no delight to | |
| unless to spy | |
| and descant on | |
| And therefore, since I cannot | |
| to entertain these | |
| I am determined to prove | |
| and hate the idle | |
| Plots have I laid, | |
| By drunken prophecies, | |
| To set my brother | |
| in deadly hate | |
| And if King Edward be as | |
| as I am | |
| This day should Clarence closely | |
| About a prophecy which | |
| Of Edward's heirs | |
| Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: | |
|