You May Also Like / View all maxioms
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,
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.
A substitute shines brightly as a king
Until a king be by, and then his state
Empties read more
A substitute shines brightly as a king
Until a king be by, and then his state
Empties itself, as dot an inland brook
Into the main of waters.
His legs bestrid the ocean: his reared arm
Crested the world: his voice was propertied
As all read more
His legs bestrid the ocean: his reared arm
Crested the world: his voice was propertied
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends;
But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,
He was as rattling thunder.
Every subject's duty is the king's, but every subject's soul is
his own.
Every subject's duty is the king's, but every subject's soul is
his own.
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.
A prince, the moment he is crown'd,
Inherits every virtue sound,
As emblems of the sovereign power,
read more
A prince, the moment he is crown'd,
Inherits every virtue sound,
As emblems of the sovereign power,
Like other baubles in the Tower:
Is generous, valiant, just, and wise,
And so continues till he dies.
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.]
