I’ll tear ’em all to pieces.
Brougham.—
Nay, but be wise, tell me but this—
Puppet.—
Oh, that the slaves had forty-thousand lives,
One each is far too poor for my revenge.
Now do I see ’tis time, look here, Brougham,
All my reforming thus I blow to heaven,
’Tis gone—
Assist, black Tories, the blood-thirsty bill,