For Gods 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, andfarewell, king!
ATTRIBUTION:
William Shakespeare (15641616), British poet. King Richard II (III, ii).
Yielding to despair, and foreshadowing his own death. The Unabridged William Shakespeare, William George Clark and William Aldis Wright, eds. (1989) Running Press.