Shakespeare, 4th November
Within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a King
Keeps death his court: . . . .
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable, and honour'd thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
King Richard II., Act iii., Sc. 2.