To say the truth, so Judas kissed his master And cried, 'All hail!' when as he meant all harm.

Et tu, Brute?--Then fall Caesar.

For when my outward action doth demonstrate The native act and figure of my heart In compliment extern, 'tis not long after But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am

Oh, for a tongue to curse the slave Whose treason, like a deadly blight, Comes o'er the councils of the brave, And blasts them in their hour of might!

Oh, colder than the wind that freezes Founts, that but now in sunshine play'd, Is that congealing pang which seizes The trusting bosom, when betray'd.

Treachery, though at first very cautious, in the end betrays itself. [Lat., Ipsa se fraus, etiamsi initio cautior fuerit, detegit.]