Clemency is the surest proof of a true monarch.
[Fr., La clemence est la plus belle marque
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Clemency is the surest proof of a true monarch.
[Fr., La clemence est la plus belle marque
Qui fasse a l'univers connaitre un vrai monqrque.]

Hail, glorious edifice, stupendous work!
God bless the Regent, and the Duke of York.

Hail, glorious edifice, stupendous work!
God bless the Regent, and the Duke of York.

In that fierce light which beats upon a throne.

In that fierce light which beats upon a throne.

And in the years he reigned; through all the country wide,
There was no cause for weeping, save when read more

And in the years he reigned; through all the country wide,
There was no cause for weeping, save when the good man died.
[Fr., Ce n'est que lorsqu'il expira
Que le peuple, qui l'enterra pleura.]

For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.

For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.

God gives not kings the stile of Gods in vaine,
For on his throne his sceptre do they sway;
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God gives not kings the stile of Gods in vaine,
For on his throne his sceptre do they sway;
And as their subjects ought them to obey,
So kings should feare and serve their God againe.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

Many a crown
Covers bald foreheads.

Many a crown
Covers bald foreheads.

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,