Put not your trust in princes, nor in the son of man, in whom
there is no help.

Put not your trust in princes, nor in the son of man, in whom
there is no help.

Princes are like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil
times; and which have much veneratoin, but no read more

Princes are like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil
times; and which have much veneratoin, but no rest.

In good King Charles's golden days
When royalty no harm meant,
A zealous high-churchman was I,
read more

In good King Charles's golden days
When royalty no harm meant,
A zealous high-churchman was I,
And so I got preferment.

As ourselves your empires fall,
And every kingdom hath a grave.

As ourselves your empires fall,
And every kingdom hath a grave.

The rule
Of the many is not well. One must be chief
In war and one the read more

The rule
Of the many is not well. One must be chief
In war and one the king.

She governs but she does not reign.
[Fr., Elle gouvernait, mais elle ne regnait pas.]

She governs but she does not reign.
[Fr., Elle gouvernait, mais elle ne regnait pas.]

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.

I am the State.
[Fr., L'etat c'est moi.]

I am the State.
[Fr., L'etat c'est moi.]

For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
read more

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,