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Supposition all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes;
For treason is but trusted like the fox,
read more
Supposition all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes;
For treason is but trusted like the fox,
Who, ne'er so tame, so cherished and locked up,
Will have a wild trick of his ancestors.
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.
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?
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.
O that a soldier so glorious, ever victorious in fight,
Passed from a daylight of honor into the terrible read more
O that a soldier so glorious, ever victorious in fight,
Passed from a daylight of honor into the terrible night;
Fell as the mighty archangel, ere the earth glowed in space,
fell--
Fell from the patriot's heaven down to the loyalist's hell!
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.
Bad literature . . . is a form of treason.
Bad literature . . . is a form of treason.
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?