If These Hands, Used To Fighting, Would

Men, I'm Getting Out Of Rome. Anyone Who Wants To Carry On The War Against The Outsiders, Come With Me. I Can Offer You Neither Honours Nor Wages; I Offer You Hunger, Thirst, Forced Marches, Battles And Death. Anyone Who Loves His Country, Follow Me

Posterity Will Call You The Great Emancipator, A More Enviable Title Than Any Crown Could Be, And Greater Than Any Merely Mundane Treasure.

If These Hands, Used To Fighting, Would Be Acceptable To His Holiness, We Most Thankfully Dedicate Them To The Service Of Him Who Deserves So Well Of The Church And Of The Fatherland.

To This Wonderful Page In Our Country's History Another More Glorious Still Will Be Added, And The Slave Shall Show At Last To His Free Brothers A Sharpened Sword Forged From The Links Of His Fetters.

The Priest Is The Personification Of Falsehood.