This tyrant, whole sole name blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest; you have loved him well;
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This tyrant, whole sole name blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest; you have loved him well;
He hath not touched you yet.

Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the read more

Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value.

There is nothing more hostile to a city that a tyrant, under whom
in the first and chiefest place, read more

There is nothing more hostile to a city that a tyrant, under whom
in the first and chiefest place, there are not laws in common,
but one man, keeping the law himself to himself, has the sway,
and this is no longer equal.

Obedience alone gives the right to command.

Obedience alone gives the right to command.

The distrust of wit is the beginning of tyranny.

The distrust of wit is the beginning of tyranny.

Tyranny
Is far the worst of treasons. Dost thou deem
None rebels except subjects? The prince who
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Tyranny
Is far the worst of treasons. Dost thou deem
None rebels except subjects? The prince who
Neglects or violates his trust is more
A brigand than the robber-chief.

Obedience alone gives the right to command

Obedience alone gives the right to command

None but tyrants have any business to be afraid.
[Fr., Fr., Il n'appartient, qu'aux tyrans d'etre toujours en
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None but tyrants have any business to be afraid.
[Fr., Fr., Il n'appartient, qu'aux tyrans d'etre toujours en
crainte.]

I knew him tyrannous; and tyrants' fears
Decrease not, but grow faster than the years;
And should read more

I knew him tyrannous; and tyrants' fears
Decrease not, but grow faster than the years;
And should he doubt it, as no doubt he doth,
That I should open to the list'ning air
How many worthy princes' bloods were shed
To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope,
To lop that doubt, he'll fill this land with arms
And make pretense of wrong that I have done him;
When all, for mine, if I may call offense,
Must feel war's blow, who spares not innocence;
Which love to all, of which thyself art one,
Who now reproved'st me for't--