I think the King is but a man as I am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me.

My crown is called content, a crown that seldom kings enjoy.

My Crown is in my heart, not on my head:
Not deck'd with Diamonds, and Indian stones:
Nor to be seen: my Crown is call'd Content,
A Crown it is, that seldom Kings enjoy.

And what have kings that privates have not too,Save ceremony, save general ceremony?

This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, Th

Time's glory is to calm contending kings, to unmask falsehood and bring truth to light.