The tyrant dies and his rule ends, the martyr dies and his rule begins.

The tyrant dies and his rule ends, the martyr dies and his rule begins.

The tyrant dies and his rule is over, the martyr dies and his rule begins

The tyrant dies and his rule is over, the martyr dies and his rule begins

The tyrant now
Trusts not to men: nightly within his chamber
The watch-dog guards his couch, the read more

The tyrant now
Trusts not to men: nightly within his chamber
The watch-dog guards his couch, the only friend
He now dare trust.

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

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

Tyranny
Is far the worst of treasons. Dost thou deem
None rebels except subjects? The prince who
read more

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.

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

For what is he they follow? Truly, gentlemen,
A bloody tyrant and a homicide;
One raised in read more

For what is he they follow? Truly, gentlemen,
A bloody tyrant and a homicide;
One raised in blood and one in blood established;
One that made means to come by what he hath,
And slaughtered those that were the means to help him;
A base foul stone, made precious by the foil
Of England's chair, where he is falsely set;
One that hath ever been God's enemy.

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?]

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--