He who knows how to dissimulate knows how to reign.
[Fr., Qui nescit dissimulare, nescit regnare.]

He who knows how to dissimulate knows how to reign.
[Fr., Qui nescit dissimulare, nescit regnare.]

Ay, every inch a king.

Ay, every inch a king.

I loved no King since Forty One
When Prelacy went down,
A Cloak and Band I then read more

I loved no King since Forty One
When Prelacy went down,
A Cloak and Band I then put on,
And preached against the Crown.

I give this heavy weight from off my head
And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand,
The read more

I give this heavy weight from off my head
And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand,
The pride of kingly sway from out my heart.
With mine own tears I wash away my balm,
With mine own hands I give away my crown,
With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,
With mine own breath release all duty's rites.

I'd like to be a queen in people's hearts but I don't see myself
being Queen of this country.

I'd like to be a queen in people's hearts but I don't see myself
being Queen of this country.

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.

Here lies our sovereign lord, the king,
Whose word no man relives on,
Who never said a read more

Here lies our sovereign lord, the king,
Whose word no man relives on,
Who never said a foolish thing,
And never did a wise one.

A prince without letters is a Pilot without eyes. All his
government is groping.

A prince without letters is a Pilot without eyes. All his
government is groping.

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,