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.

The Royall Crowne cures not the head-ach.
[The Royal Crown cures not the headache.]

The Royall Crowne cures not the head-ach.
[The Royal Crown cures not the headache.]

I shall be an autocrat: that's my trade. And the good Lord will
forgive me: that's his.
[Fr., read more

I shall be an autocrat: that's my trade. And the good Lord will
forgive me: that's his.
[Fr., Moi, je serai autocrate: c'est mon metier. Et le bon Dieu
me pardonnnera: c'est son metier.]

He who knows not how to dissimulate, can not reign.
[Fr., Qui ne sait dissimuler, ne sait regner.]

He who knows not how to dissimulate, can not reign.
[Fr., Qui ne sait dissimuler, ne sait regner.]

A crown! what is it?
It is to bear the miseries of a people!
To bear the read more

A crown! what is it?
It is to bear the miseries of a people!
To bear the miseries of a people!
And sink beneath a load of splendid care!

Titles are abolished; and the American Republic swarms with men
claiming and bearing them.

Titles are abolished; and the American Republic swarms with men
claiming and bearing them.

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.

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.]

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,