And kill them when it serves your ends.
Double traitors, double black,
Stabbing only in the back,
Stabbing with the knives you borrow
From the friends you bring to sorrow.
You stab all that's true and strong;
Truth and strength you say are wrong;
Meek and mild, and sweet and creeping,
Repeating, canting, cadging, peeping,
That's the art and that's the life