’Tis safer far to be that which we destroy,
Than by destruction swell in doubtful joy.
Shakspere.
What a scene of misery
Hath thine obdurate frowardness, old man,
Drawn on thy country’s bosom! and, for that,
Thy proud ambition could not mount so high
As to be styled thy country’s only patron;
Thy malice hath descended to the depth
Of hell, to be renowned in the title