As men of inward light are wont To turn their optics in upon 't. - Samuel Butler

For those that fly may fight again,
Which he can never do that's slain.

The sun had long since in the lap
Of Thetis taken out his nap,
And, like a lobster boil'd, the morn
From black to red began to turn.

Authority intoxicates, And makes mere sots of magistrates;
The fumes of it invade the brain, And make men giddy, proud and vain;
By this the fool commands the wise, The noble with the base complies,
The sot assumes the rule of wit, and cowards make the base submit.