This principle is old, but true as fate,
Kings may love treason, but the traitor hate.

This principle is old, but true as fate,
Kings may love treason, but the traitor hate.

There is something peculiarly sinister and insidious in even a charge of disloyalty. Such a charge all too frequently places read more

There is something peculiarly sinister and insidious in even a charge of disloyalty. Such a charge all too frequently places a strain on the reputation of an individual which is indelible and lasting, regardless of the complete innocence later proved.

Thou know'st, great son,
The end of war's uncertain, but this certain,
That, if thou conquer Rome, read more

Thou know'st, great son,
The end of war's uncertain, but this certain,
That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name
Whose repetition will be dogged with curses,
Whose chronicle thus writ: 'The man was noble,
But with his last attempt he wiped it out,
Destroyed his country; and his name remains
To th' ensuing age abhorred,' Speak to me son.
Thou hast affected the fine strains of honor,
To imitate the graces of the gods;
To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' th' air,
And yet to change thy sulphur with a bolt
That should rive an oak.

For while the treason I detest,
The traitor still I love.

For while the treason I detest,
The traitor still I love.

Is there not some chosen curse,
Some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven,
Red with uncommon read more

Is there not some chosen curse,
Some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven,
Red with uncommon wrath, to blast the man
Who owes his greatness to his country's ruin?

Bad literature . . . is a form of treason.

Bad literature . . . is a form of treason.

Know my name is lost,
By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit;
Yet am I noble as the read more

Know my name is lost,
By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit;
Yet am I noble as the adversary
I come to cope.

Some guard these traitors to the block of death,
Treason's true bed and yielder up of breath.

Some guard these traitors to the block of death,
Treason's true bed and yielder up of breath.

Is there not some chosen curse, some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven, red with uncommon wrath, to blast read more

Is there not some chosen curse, some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven, red with uncommon wrath, to blast the man who owes his greatness to his country's ruin!