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

Treason and murder ever kept together, As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose, Working so grossly in a natural cause That admiration did not whoop at them; But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in Wonder to wait on treason and on murder; And whatsoever cunning fiend it was That wrought upon thee so preposterously Hath got the voice in hell for excellence.

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep, And in his simple show he harbors treason.

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.

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.

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.