Jac. Fos.Curse it not. If I am silent,
Who dares accuse my Country?
Mar.Men and Angels!240
The blood of myriads reeking up to Heaven,
The groans of slaves in chains, and men in dungeons,
Mothers, and wives, and sons, and sires, and subjects,
Held in the bondage of ten bald-heads; and
Though last, not least, thy silence! Couldst thou say
Aught in its favour, who would praise like thee?
Jac. Fos. Let us address us then, since so it must be,