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?

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.

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.

Write on my gravestone: "Infidel, Traitor." --infidel to every church that compromises with wrong; traitor to every government that oppresses read more

Write on my gravestone: "Infidel, Traitor." --infidel to every church that compromises with wrong; traitor to every government that oppresses the people.

With evil omens from the harbour sails
The ill-fated ship that worthless Arnold bears;
God of the read more

With evil omens from the harbour sails
The ill-fated ship that worthless Arnold bears;
God of the southern winds, call up thy gales,
And whistle in rude fury round his ears.

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.

Write on my gravestone: "Infidel, Traitor."--infidel to every church that compromises with wrong; traitor to every government that oppresses the read more

Write on my gravestone: "Infidel, Traitor."--infidel to every church that compromises with wrong; traitor to every government that oppresses the people.

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?

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.