Bold Irishman. There I'll shake hands with you, and my tongue shall echo in their ears, make their arched ceiling speak, the treasury bench crack, and the great chair of their great speaker tremble, and never will I cease lashing them, while lashing is good, or hope remains; and when the voice of poor liberty can no longer be heard in Britain or Hibernia, let's give Caledonia a kick with our heels, and away with the goddess to the American shore, crown her, and defy the grim king of tyranny, at his peril, to set his foot there.—Here let him stay, and wallow in sackcloth and ashes, like a beast as he is, and, Nebuchadnezzar-like, eat grass and thistles.
[Exeunt.
See Paramount, upon his awful throne,
Striving to make each freeman's purse his own!
While Lords and Commons most as one agree,
To grace his head with crown of tyranny.
They spurn the laws,—force constitution locks,
To seize each subject's coffer, chest and box;
Send justice packing, as tho' too pure unmix'd,
And hug the tyrant, as if by law he's fix'd.
FOOTNOTES:
[7] See Wedderburne's Speech.
[8] Alluding to North-Briton, Number forty-five.
ACT III.
Scene I. In Boston.
Selectman, Citizen.