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.

Though those that are betrayed
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case read more

Though those that are betrayed
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe.

If this be treason, make the most of it!

If this be treason, make the most of it!

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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 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?