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.

He [Caesar] loved the treason, but hated the traitor.

He [Caesar] loved the treason, but hated the traitor.

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.

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!

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!

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?

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.

No wise man ever thought that a traitor should be trusted.
[Lat., Nemo unquam sapiens proditori credendum putavit.]

No wise man ever thought that a traitor should be trusted.
[Lat., Nemo unquam sapiens proditori credendum putavit.]

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.