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.

Whenever monarchs err, the people are punished.
[Lat., Quidquid delirant reges, plectuntur Achivi.]

Whenever monarchs err, the people are punished.
[Lat., Quidquid delirant reges, plectuntur Achivi.]

Hener was the hero-king,
Heaven-born, dear to us,
Showing his shield
A shelter for read more

Hener was the hero-king,
Heaven-born, dear to us,
Showing his shield
A shelter for peace.

And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns.

And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns.

The King is dead! Long live the King!

The King is dead! Long live the King!

They say Princes learn no art truly, but the art of horsemanship.
The reason is, the brave beast is read more

They say Princes learn no art truly, but the art of horsemanship.
The reason is, the brave beast is no flatterer. He will throw a
Prince as soon as his groom.

That man is deceived who thinks it slavery to live under an
excellent prince. Never does liberty appear in read more

That man is deceived who thinks it slavery to live under an
excellent prince. Never does liberty appear in a more gracious
form than under a pious king.
[Lat., Fallitur egregio quisquis sub principe credet
Servitutem. Nunquam libertas gratior extat
Quam sub rege pio.]

Over all good things certain, this is sure indeed,
Suffer not the old King, for we know the breed.

Over all good things certain, this is sure indeed,
Suffer not the old King, for we know the breed.

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,