Luxurious kings are to their people lost, They live like drones, upon the public cost.

The people have a right supreme To make their kings, for Kings are made for them. All Empire is no more than Pow'r in Trust, Which when resum'd, can be no longer just. Successionm for the general good design'd, In its own wrong a Nation cannot bind.

War is a trade of kings.

War is the trade of kings.

Tis Fate that flings the dice, And as she flings Of kings makes peasants, And of peasants kings.