Bleed, bleed, poor Country!
Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure,
For goodness dare not check thee; read more

Bleed, bleed, poor Country!
Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure,
For goodness dare not check thee; wear thou thy wrongs,
The title is affeered!

Under conditions of tyranny, it is far easier to act than to think.

Under conditions of tyranny, it is far easier to act than to think.

Is there no tyrant but the crowned one?
[Fr., N'est-on jamais tyran qu'avec un diademe?]

Is there no tyrant but the crowned one?
[Fr., N'est-on jamais tyran qu'avec un diademe?]

Tyrants have always some slight shade of virtue; they support the laws before destroying them.

Tyrants have always some slight shade of virtue; they support the laws before destroying them.

Of all tyrannies a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive.

Of all tyrannies a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive.

The worst form of tyranny the world has ever known the tyranny of the weak over the strong. It is read more

The worst form of tyranny the world has ever known the tyranny of the weak over the strong. It is the only tyranny that lasts.

You may talk of the tyranny of Nero and Tiberius; but the real tyranny is the tyranny of your next-door read more

You may talk of the tyranny of Nero and Tiberius; but the real tyranny is the tyranny of your next-door neighbour.

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.

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--