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?

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep,
And in his simple show he harbors treason.

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep,
And in his simple show he harbors treason.

We are a rebellious nation. Our whole history is treason; our blood was attained before we were born; our creeds read more

We are a rebellious nation. Our whole history is treason; our blood was attained before we were born; our creeds were infidelity to the mother church; our constitution treason to our fatherland.

The man who pauses on the paths of treason,
Halts on a quicksand, the first step engulfs him.

The man who pauses on the paths of treason,
Halts on a quicksand, the first step engulfs him.

Rebellion must be managed with many swords; treason to his
prince's person may be with one knife.

Rebellion must be managed with many swords; treason to his
prince's person may be with one knife.

If this be treason, make the most of it!

If this be treason, make the most of it!

He [Caesar] loved the treason, but hated the traitor.

He [Caesar] loved the treason, but hated the traitor.

Men will confess to treason, murder, arson, false teeth, or a wig. How many of them will own up to read more

Men will confess to treason, murder, arson, false teeth, or a wig. How many of them will own up to a lack of humor?

A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at read more

A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at the gates is less formidable, for he is known and carries his banner openly. But the traitor moves amongst those within the gate freely, his sly whispers rustling through all the alleys, heard in the very halls of government itself. For the traitor appears not a traitor; he speaks in accents familiar to his victims, and he wears their face and their arguments, he appeals to the baseness that lies deep in the hearts of all men. He rots the soul of a nation, he works secretly and unknown in the night to undermine the pillars of the city, he infects the body politic so that it can no longer resist. A murderer is less to fear. The traitor is the plague.