The Tyrannicide (6-7)

What hurt us most was to know that our slavery would be long, nay unending, that our city would be handed down by succession from despot to despot, and that our folk would be the heritage of villains. To other peoples it is no slight comfort to think, and to tell one another, “But it will stop soon,” “But he will die soon, and in a little while we shall be free.’ In their case, however, there was no such comfort; we saw the successor to the sovereignty already at hand. Therefore not one of the brave men who entertained the same purpose as myself even ventured to make an attempt. Liberty was wholly despaired of, and the tyranny was thought invincible, because any attempt would be directed against so many.

This, however, did not frighten me; I did not draw back when I estimated the difficulty of the achievement, nor play the coward in the face of danger. Alone, alone, I climbed the hill to front the tyranny that was so strong and many-headed—yet, not alone but with my sword that shared the fray with me and in its turn was tyrant-slayer too. I had my death in prospect, but sought to purchase our common liberty with the shedding of my own blood. I met the first guard-post, routed the guardsmen with no little difficulty, slew whomsoever I encountered, destroyed whatsoever blocked my path. Then I assailed the very forefront of my tasks, the sole