THE FREEMAN

A! FREDOME is a noble thing.

BARBOUR

TYRANNY is the will to have in one way what can

only be had in another.

WHO Overcomes

PASCAL

By force, hath overcome but half his foe.

MILTON

THE worst of all tyrannies is the tyranny of cowards.

TOCQUEVILLE

THE best kind of revenge is, not to become like unto

them.

MARCUS AURELIUS

Freedom

Fredome is a noble thing!

A! Fredome mayse man to haif liking;

Fredome all solace to man giffis,
He livis at ese that frely livis!
A noble hart may haif nane ese,
Na ellys nocht that may him plese,
Gif fredome fail'th; for fre liking
Is yharnit1 ouer all other thing.
Na he that ay has livit fre

May nocht knaw well the propertè,
The anger, na the wretchit doom
That is couplit to foul thraldome.
But gif he had assayit it,

Then all perquer

2 he suld it wit; And suld think fredome mar to prise Than all the gold in warld that is. Thus contrar thingis evermar Discoweringis of the tothir are.

JOHN BARBOUR

1 Yearned for, desired

2 Thoroughly

THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE

The Character of a Happy Life

OW happy is he born and taught

HOW

That serveth not another's will;
Whose armour is his honest thought,
And simple truth his utmost skill!

Whose passions not his masters are;
Whose soul is still prepared for death,
Untied unto the world by care

Of public fame or private breath;

Who envies none that chance doth raise,
Nor vice; who never understood
How deepest wounds are given by praise;
Nor rules of state, but rules of good;

Who hath his life from rumours freed;
Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make oppressors great;

Who God doth late and early pray
More of His grace than gifts to lend;
And entertains the harmless day
With a religious book or friend;

This man is freed from servile bands
Of hope to rise or fear to fall :
Lord of himself, though not of lands,
And having nothing, yet hath all.

SIR HENRY WOTTON

Ο

INSTANS TYRANNUS

Instans Tyrannus

F the million or two, more or less,
I rule and possess,

One man, for some cause undefined,
Was least to my mind.

I struck him, he grovell'd of course-
For, what was his force?

I pinn'd him to earth with my weight,

And persistence of hate :

And he lay, would not moan, would not curse,

As his lot might be worse.

Were the object less mean, would he stand

At the swing of my hand!

For obscurity helps him, and blots

The hole where he squats.'

So, I set my five wits on the stretch

To inveigle the wretch.

All in vain! Gold and jewels I threw,

Still he couch'd there perdue;

I tempted his blood and his flesh,

Hid in roses my mesh,

Choicest cates and the flagon's best spilth:

Still he kept to his filth.

Had he kith now or kin, were access

To his heart, did I press:

Just a son or a mother to seize!

No such booty as these.