From Richard II by William Shakespeare: For Gods sake, let us sit upon the ground, And tell sad stories of the death of kings: How some have been deposd, some slain in war, Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposd; Some poisond by their wives, some sleeping killd; All murderd — 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 feard, and kill with looks; Infusing him with self and vain conceit — As if this flesh, which walls about our life, Were brass impregnable — and, humourd thus, Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell king!
Posted on: Tue, 21 Jan 2014 15:08:53 +0000
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