Classic Poem

The King, to a diligent scholar of great laws
Politico-biological: “Little brown birds
Skittering to a pleasing song without words
Keep constantly their thoughts upon their craws;
The fiercer beasts work ravin to glut their maws;
The serpent has fangs, and travels on his belly,
But—this was pointed out by Machiavelli—
The serpent has no ear for public applause,

And could not found a State. But a King can;
He feeds with no stint his huge appetite
By instructing the people in his own divine right
And with great pomp and honor despoiling them,
Tickled with royal love and ruled with stratagem;
Now give me heed, Sir Paul, and play the man.”