And kind as kings upon their coronation day.

And kind as kings upon their coronation day.

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.

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.

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.

The first king was a successful soldier;
He who serves well his country has no need of ancestors.
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The first king was a successful soldier;
He who serves well his country has no need of ancestors.
[Fr., Le premier qui fut roi, fut un soldat heureux;
Qui sert bien son pays, n'a pas besoin d'aleux.]

Kings are like stars--they rise and set, they have
The worship of the world, but no repose.

Kings are like stars--they rise and set, they have
The worship of the world, but no repose.

Der Kaiser of dis Faderland,
Und Gott on high all dings commands,
We two--ach! Don't you understand?
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Der Kaiser of dis Faderland,
Und Gott on high all dings commands,
We two--ach! Don't you understand?
Myself--und Gott.

'Tis a very fine thing to be father-in-law
To a very magnificent three-tailed bashaw.

'Tis a very fine thing to be father-in-law
To a very magnificent three-tailed bashaw.

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,