Tremble, ye tyrants, for ye can not die.
[Fr., Tremblez, tyrans, vous etes immortels.]

Tremble, ye tyrants, for ye can not die.
[Fr., Tremblez, tyrans, vous etes immortels.]

His demand
Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love,
Bur from deceit, bred by necessity;
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His demand
Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love,
Bur from deceit, bred by necessity;
For how can tyrants safely govern home
Unless abroad they purchase great alliance?

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!

There is a secret pride in every human heart that revolts at tyranny. You may order and drive an individual, read more

There is a secret pride in every human heart that revolts at tyranny. You may order and drive an individual, but you cannot make him respect you.

O nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,
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O nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,
Since that the truest issue of thy throne
By his own interdiction stands accursed
And does blaspheme his breed?

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.

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.

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--

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?]