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.

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.

And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
And dressed myself in such humility
That I did read more

And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
And dressed myself in such humility
That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths
Even in the presence of the crowned king.

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.

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.

Tarquin and Caesar had each his Brutus--Charles the First, his
Cromwell--and George the Third--("Treason!" shouted the Speaker)
may read more

Tarquin and Caesar had each his Brutus--Charles the First, his
Cromwell--and George the Third--("Treason!" shouted the Speaker)
may profit by their example. If this be treason, make the most
of it.

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?

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?

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.