Whatever I can say or do.
I'm sure not much avails;
I shall still Vicar be of read more

Whatever I can say or do.
I'm sure not much avails;
I shall still Vicar be of Bray,
Whichever side prevails.

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.

Now let us sing, long live the king.

Now let us sing, long live the king.

The gates of monarchs
Are arched so high that giants may jet through
And keep their impious read more

The gates of monarchs
Are arched so high that giants may jet through
And keep their impious turbans on without
Good morrow to the sun.

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!

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.

I dare be bold, you're one of those
Have took the covenant,
With cavaliers are cavaliers
read more

I dare be bold, you're one of those
Have took the covenant,
With cavaliers are cavaliers
And with the saints, a saint.

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,

Many a crown
Covers bald foreheads.

Many a crown
Covers bald foreheads.