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.

To know how to dissemble is the knowledge of kings.
[Fr., Savoir dissimuler est le savoir des rois.]

To know how to dissemble is the knowledge of kings.
[Fr., Savoir dissimuler est le savoir des rois.]

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.

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.

There's such divinity doth hedge a king
That treason can but peep to what it would,
Acts read more

There's such divinity doth hedge a king
That treason can but peep to what it would,
Acts little of his will.

'Tis so much to be a king, that he only is so by being so.
- Michael read more

'Tis so much to be a king, that he only is so by being so.
- Michael Eyquen de Montaigne,

I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute,
From the centre read more

I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute,
From the centre all round to the sea,
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.

At length her grace rose and with modest paces
Came to the altar, where she kneeled, and saint-like
read more

At length her grace rose and with modest paces
Came to the altar, where she kneeled, and saint-like
Cast her fair eyes to heaven and prayed devoutly;
Then rose again and bowed her to the people;
When by the Archbishop of Canterbury
She had all the royal makings of a queen,
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems
Laid nobly on her; which performed, the choir
With all the choicest music of the kingdom
Together sung 'Te Deum.' So she parted
And with the same full state packed back again
To York Place, where the feast is held.

O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is betwixt that smile read more

O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.