That the king can do no wrong is a necessary and fundamental
principle of the English constitution.

That the king can do no wrong is a necessary and fundamental
principle of the English constitution.

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.

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.]

St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for France.
Sing, "Honi soit qui mal y pense."

St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for France.
Sing, "Honi soit qui mal y pense."

The King is dead! Long live the King!

The King is dead! Long live the King!

It is something to hold the scepter with a firm hand.
[Lat., Est aliquid valida sceptra tenere manu.]

It is something to hold the scepter with a firm hand.
[Lat., Est aliquid valida sceptra tenere manu.]

But all's to no end, for the time will not mend
Till the King enjoys his own again.

But all's to no end, for the time will not mend
Till the King enjoys his own again.

The trappings of a monarchy would set up an ordinary
commonwealth.

The trappings of a monarchy would set up an ordinary
commonwealth.

For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
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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,