Not all the water in the rough rude sea
Can wash the balm off from an anointed king.
- 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 fear’d, and kill with looks;/ infusing him with self and vain conceit -/ as if this flesh, which walls about our life,/ were brass impregnable - and, humour’d thus,/ comes at the last, and with a little pin/ bores through his castle wall, and - farewell king!
(-‘Richard II’, The Hollow Crown)
Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere;
Nor can one England brook a double reign,
Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales.