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.

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.

Treason is like diamonds; there is nothing to be made by the small trader.

Treason is like diamonds; there is nothing to be made by the small trader.

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

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

If this be treason, make the most of it!

If this be treason, make the most of it!

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.

Thou art a traitor.
Off with his head! Now by Saint Paul I swear
I will not read more

Thou art a traitor.
Off with his head! Now by Saint Paul I swear
I will not dine until I see the same.

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!