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C.N. Douglas, comp.  Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical.  1917.
  Ay, every inch a king.
        Ah! vainest of all things
Is the gratitude of kings.
  The trappings of a monarchy would set up an ordinary commonwealth.
Samuel Johnson.    
  Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
  In that fierce light which beats upon a throne.
  For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.
  Every citizen is king under a citizen king.
  The state!—it is I!
Attributed to Louis XIV. of France.    
  The king reigns but does not govern.
  Every subject’s duty is the king’s; but every subject’s soul is his own.
        As yourselves your empires fall,
And every kingdom hath a grave.
William Habington.    
        What is a king? a man condemn’d to bear
The public burthen of the nation’s care.
  Every noble crown is, and on earth will forever be, a crown of thorns.
        Kings are like stars—they rise and set, they have
The worship of the world, but no repose.
        There’s such divinity doth hedge a king,
That treason can but peep to what it would.
  Clemency is the surest proof of a true monarch.
  Every monarch is subject to a mightier one.
  They (Americans) equally detest the pageantry of a king and the supercilious hypocrisy of a bishop.
                                The rule
Of the many is not well. One must be chief
In war and one the king.
                        A man’s a man,
But when you see a king, you see the work
Of many thousand men.
George Eliot.    
  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.
Ben Jonson.    
        God save our gracious king!
Long live our noble king!
  God save the king!
Henry Carey.    
        Yet looks he like a king; behold, his eye,
As bright as is the eagle’s, lightens forth
Controlling majesty.
        The first king was a successful soldier;
He who serves well his country has no need of ancestors.
        A substitute shines brightly as a king
Until a king be by, and then his state
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
Into the main of waters.
                    A crown! what is it?
It is to bear the miseries of a people!
To hear their murmurs, feel their discontents,
And sink beneath a load of splendid care!
Hannah More.    
        Here lies our sovereign lord, the king,
  Whose word no man relies on,
Who never said a foolish thing,
  And never did a wise one.
Said by a courtier of Charles II.    
        Princes have but their titles for their glories,
An outward honor for an inward toil;
And, for unfelt imaginations,
They often feel a world of restless cares.
        God gives not kings the stile of gods in vaine,
  For on his throne his sceptre do they sway;
  And as their subjects ought them to obey,
So kings should feare and serve their God againe.
King James.    
                    Let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings:
How some have been depos’d, some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos’d,
Some poison’d by their wives, some sleeping kill’d,
All murder’d.
                    The king-becoming graces,
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them.
                                A crown,
Golden in show, is but a wreath of thorns,
Brings dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights
To him who wears the regal diadem.
        Princes that would their people should do well
Must at themselves begin, as at the head;
For men, by their example, pattern out
Their imitations, and regard of laws:
A virtuous court a world to virtue draws.
Ben Jonson.    
                            O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes’ favors!
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars and women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.
        O wretched state of kings! doleful fate!
Greatness misnamed, in misery only great!
Could men but know the endless woe it brings,
The wise would die before they would be kings.
Think what a king must do! It tasks the best
To rule the little world within his breast,
Yet must he rule it, and the world beside,
Or king is none, undone by power and pride.
Think what a king must be! What burdens bear
From birth to death! His life is one long care.
It wears away in tasks that never end.
He has ten thousand foes, but not one friend.
R. H. Stoddard.    

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