O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is betwixt that smile read more

O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.

Ten poor men sleep in peace on one straw heap, as Saadi sings,
But the immensest empire is too read more

Ten poor men sleep in peace on one straw heap, as Saadi sings,
But the immensest empire is too narrow for two kings.

For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
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For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
How some have been deposed, some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,
Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed--
All murdered; for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable; and humored thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence, Throw away respect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty;
For you have but mistook me all this while.
I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,
Need friends. Subjected thus,

I dare be bold, you're one of those
Have took the covenant,
With cavaliers are cavaliers
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I dare be bold, you're one of those
Have took the covenant,
With cavaliers are cavaliers
And with the saints, a saint.

There was a king of Thule,
Was faithful till the grave,
To whom his mistress dying,
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There was a king of Thule,
Was faithful till the grave,
To whom his mistress dying,
A golden goblet gave.
[Ger., Es war ein Konig in Tule
Gar treu bis an das Grab,
Dem sterbend seine Buhle
Einen gold'nen Becher gab.]

The gates of monarchs
Are arched so high that giants may jet through
And keep their impious read more

The gates of monarchs
Are arched so high that giants may jet through
And keep their impious turbans on without
Good morrow to the sun.

And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns.

And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns.

That the king can do no wrong is a necessary and fundamental
principle of the English constitution.

That the king can do no wrong is a necessary and fundamental
principle of the English constitution.

Der Kaiser of dis Faderland,
Und Gott on high all dings commands,
We two--ach! Don't you understand?
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Der Kaiser of dis Faderland,
Und Gott on high all dings commands,
We two--ach! Don't you understand?
Myself--und Gott.