I don't know who likes you most, the monarch or the cannibal!
— I adore Versailles, Sire.
— And the King?
— But, Sire, without the King, there would be no Versailles.
He played the King as though under momentary apprehension that someone else was about to play the ace.
Everyone is king
When there's no one left to pawn.
When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
You are leading an honourable man to his death, Odin. You’re no king, you’re a little more than a common criminal.
— Life is leaving my body, but my wits remain. The King loves my wife.
— What?
— Yes. The King of France wants the only possession I am unable to relinquish, my wife. But, Sire, I too love Angelique. And since I cherish my King more than my own life, existence had become too heavy a burden to bear.
— My friend.
— I pray Your Majesty will forgive me for being so brutally forthright. The only excuse is my present situation.
Queen — a woman by whom the realm is ruled when there is a king, and through whom it is ruled when there is not.
Like every kingdom before it Wessex has fallen. He is Alfred, a man. King of nothing.
— Is he handsome?
— He certainly thinks so.
— Is he vain?
— Your Majesty, he's French.
An important question, whether it is better for a king to be feared or loved.