[] LIBERTY CHASTISED: OR PATRIOTISM in CHAINS.

ACT I. SCENE I.

PRAY Sir, ſhew me to Lord Botch, in a minute!

I really don't know, my Lord! whether his Lordſhip be here or no!

Abi⯑gail—Is Lord Botch here?

Stay I'll ſtep and ſee—

"I know not if he has left Almagnia's apartment."—

'Sblood! why all this ceremony?—By heav'ns I ſhall be too late for Newmarket!—and my deareſt creature Flavia will be out of all patience!—ha! here ſhe returns.

Be pleaſed my Lord to follow me—Lord Botch waits your G—ce.

What a wretched ſyſtem of government do we live under?—That accurſed LIBERTY! which ought to be enjoyed only by the Great, has been, by the d—d troubleſome plebeian ſcoun⯑drels, who founded in freedom the baſis of this hateful Conſtitution, ſo clearly tranſmitted down to their poſterity, that ev'n with the moſt u— and c— K— that ever lived, and no want of M—l tools ready enough to ſupport every ſtep to deſpotiſm!—Yet, one d— obſtinate fellow has had addreſs enough, in ſpite of perſe⯑cution, to keep the peoples eyes open! and from my very firſt appearance on the Theatre of Politics to counteract every plot I can form!—Ha! but here comes Grapnel—

Your G—s moſt obedient! I rejoice to ſee you!—

My Lord!—I'm yours entirely!—

Well! Good Grapnel,—how is it? does the madneſs of people begin to abate? or do they continue as reſtleſs and deſperate as ever?—

Why,—'faith, my Lord, they go on to your wiſh; and their numbers rather increaſe than diminiſh!—

So much the better!—Military force! the very ſoul of Government! is ſo fettered in this d—d land of freedom, that there's no ſuch thing as uſing it, until the terror of every cowardly peace officer obliges them to cry for it, and then we can employ it with ſome degree of plauſibility!— [3] Grapnel, I have contriv'd it ſo, that none but ſneaking fools ſhall, on that occaſion, appear in oppoſition to the Watcherites! By which means the mobility may be induced to proceed to ſuch enor⯑mities, that the blockheads who are to deal with them, will, to protect themſelves, call loudly for military aid! and thereby furniſh us with an ex⯑cellent pretext to govern by that Power!—This, my Lord, is a criſis which demands all our attention:—your G—e muſt be at hand to ſup⯑port our ſchemes in C—l! for you know there is ſome difficulty there!—

Upon my honour, your Lordſhip muſt diſpenſe with my attendance at this ſo critical a juncture!—My name and intereſt are always at your diſpoſal:—But—my favourite pleaſures! My Lord! I would not renounce—to pleaſe the K— of heav'n! far leſs any k— on earth!—

Good God! how much does your G—e ſurpriſe me? juſt at the moſt important juncture of all our hopes and fears, to ſee a noble⯑man of your abilities careleſs of ſo great concerns—is, indeed, amazing!

My Lord! it does not ſignify—with me, buſineſs muſt yield to pleaſure!—in this hour, I ſacrifice more to your Lordſhip alone!—than I would—to ſave a nation from perdition!—Think only my darling Flavia is in impatient wait⯑ing—the poſt-chaiſe has been ready theſe two hours—and—let us drive as faſt as we can—we ſhall loſe, at leaſt, the firſt courſe of ſport!—So—My good Lord, excuſe me—I am yours—

But—My Lord—one moment!—

Upon my honour, I can't!—a moment is an age—you have nothing to ſear—every thing is prepared—Wimple is yours—and the ſecreta⯑ries [4] only wait for orders! adieu!—adieu!—

Never was there ſo unhappy a favourite as I am! with all that well known influence I have gain'd over every thing ſtampt with R—y, from the indolence of an artleſs C—n, down to the cunning of the more active petticoat!—yet thoſe of the no⯑bility, who have underſtanding to be of any ſervice in arbitrary projects, are either ſo timid and fear⯑ful of popular clamour, or ſo prone to diſſipation and pleaſure—that I am drove to the diſagreeable neceſſity of availing myſelf of others, who have too much to be done by one man—whoſe chief ſtudy is—to make the world believe—he does nothing!—Ha! ſome freſh reproach—I hear Almagnia.

My Lord! 'tis paſt all bearing!—was ever a perſon in my exalted ſtation, ſuffered to be ſo daringly and openly inſulted, by a rabble of—raſcally ſlaves!

Alas! Madam! they are not ſlaves!—that's what I want to bring 'em to!—May I but accompliſh that,—your vengeance ſhould be amply gratified.—But what's the matter—tell me thou dear empreſs of my heart—does any thing new diſtreſs you?

See here! another vile ſcrawl, found paſted near the p—e g—e this morning!—What! are all the guards blind? where are their eyes? what have they their arms and their pay for? I conjure you, my Lord, to enquire into this matter; find out who were upon guard;—I ſhall inſiſt that they be puniſhed—I never deſire to ſee any but the —d regiment mount upon the —

Madam—that's what cannot be—ſuch diſtinctions would provoke our beſt friends, the a—y, to the ſame diſaffection which governs the multitude—and then indeed, the event might be fatal to both you and me!

Well—well, my Lord!—if a—muſt ſubmit to ſuch rudeneſs—better be the m— of a ſhoe black—than the m— of a—! the one may ſue for redreſs—I, it ſeems cannot!—

—"The [...] is a fool!—his [...] a whore!—Botch is a rogue!—We need ſay no more!"—

Such inſolence is indeed diſtracting!—

Yes, my Lord—ſuch inſolence is diſ⯑tracting—and to ſuffer it—not much to the honour of a man, for whom I have ſo dearly pur⯑chaſed ſo much power—By heav'ns, 'tis want of ſpirit!—

Madam!—you wrong me.—What man dare do—I dare—But the conſtitution of this d—d country, ſo little underſtood by either you or me, is ſo pregnant with obſtacles to arbitrary g—t —That while one Watcher ſtands in our way, the difficulties are almoſt inſuper⯑able!

Very fine indeed!—After having ſpent the very beſt of my youth to aggrandize, and to make you happy—I muſt at length be told, that the ac—d c—n of this country condemns me to bear hourly inſults unnoticed, and con⯑finement from every ſort of pleaſure; but—thoſe of my bed chamber!—Of what importance then, my Lord, has been the perſecution and im⯑priſonment of the ſo much dreaded Watcher?—Had it not been better to have purchaſed him alſo! at any price?

Madam! you know as little of Watcher as you do of the E— c—n!—he is incorruptible!—For what good purpoſe, do you think it was that I beſtowed ſo much pains to ſoften and reclaim the moſt obdurate enemy we had!—The ſo popular Chatwell!—Why, madam!—all that was with a view to trapan Watcher!—Chatwell had his price!—I found it out—I left him and his contentious ally, Lord Taunter, to divide the nations ſpoils between 'em—and—all to ſilence this d—d Watcher! whom I thought was ſo inviolably attached to their in⯑tereſts, that he would lead juſt as they pleaſed!—but he's an unfathomable fellow!—The PEOPLE are his K—!—and HE is THEIRS!—there's no ſeparating their intereſts!—Nor do I ſee a poſ⯑ſibility of purchaſing Watcher's ſervices.—But at—a price—which no m—r will ever part with:—that is—to yield up all the power and wealth of c—t ſupporters and c—t p—rs, to be divided amongſt the multitude, that they forſooth may enjoy the conveniencies of life, with no leſs ſatisfaction, than the beſt of us!—perdition ſeize ſuch Liberty!

Then, my Lord!—I find there's no hope left.—I wiſh I was any where, out of this vile country!

A moment's patience, madam!—I have yet ſome cards to play:—for Chatwell and Taunter when they had, you know, the whole k—m at their diſpoſal differed between them⯑ſelves, as I rightly judged, about the dividing of it.—I threw them the bait on purpoſe;—they tug'd, and tug'd at each end of it; until Chatwell, finding, what every body had ſeen before, that the avidity of Taunter was inſatiable; then invited others, leſs gormandizers, to partake of the feaſt! [7] —and by one clever jirk, he pulled the bait en⯑tirely out of Taunter's maw!—he next gilded a a pill for Prattle!—Prattle ſwallowed it!—and the edge of his patriotic zeal was blunted!—Watcher, perceiving that the capital pillars of his grand ſtructure were thus ſhaken, and that Taunter only was left unſatisfied, bethought him next, to rear an edifice on a broader bottom, to be founded in greater ſolidity, and to require fewer ornaments.—He applies himſelf to the public—endeavours, as the moſt intereſted, to open their eyes; and, to ſpeak truth, he has laboured ſo ſuc⯑ceſsfully, that the Queſtion now is—Whether all muſt yield to WATCHER and LIBERTY!—or, by force and deſpotiſm, endeavour to chaſtiſe both!

And do you make a queſtion of that?—have you not Watcher already tied up? Are not the j—s of our ſide? and have you not all the m—y force of the n—n at your command?

True, madam! Watcher is confined, but this confinement is rather form than reality.—And if he was of that ſeditious ſpirit that we attribute to him, he has friends enough at his nod, to ſhake the pillars, not of his p—n only, but the p—e too.—And it is from ſome violent attempt of that ſort, that my beſt hopes are at preſent founded.—But I fear he has too much penetration for us all;—for altho' he ſuſtains the ſpirit of the multitude, he artfully reſtrains their impetuoſity.—As for the j—s—I hope they lean to our ſide, but the ſagacity of Manſupple is ſo guarded, that he'll do nothing raſhly—the beſt ſervices he will do for us, muſt have, at leaſt, the countenance of l—.—The m—y are no doubt at our devotion; but even with reſpect to them, I am under ſome difficulties—there's Lord Shelter rides [8] reſty—he is yet too young in m—l practices—nay, I'm afraid the projects we muſt now carry through, are ſomewhat repugnant to his notions of politics.—I'm afraid he's either too honeſt, or too timorous—he feels too warmly for the people—and altho' he never was in the cabal with Watcher, yet he rather ſeems to diſapprove of rigid meaſures—in one word. I am deceived in him—I do not like him—and yet when force is ne⯑ceſſary, I would wiſh to have his ſanction.—

My Lord—an officer—.

My Lord—all is in an uproar—nothing to be heard from one end of the city to the other—but—WATCHER and LIBERTY—no liberty! no life!—down with BOTCH and all Botchers—The p—n is ſurrounded by thouſands, and the fields are filled with millions!—

So much the better—But pray how does Watcher behave?

Why, my Lord, he ſeldom appears; and when he does come to the window, the accla⯑mations are ſo loud, that he can't be heard him⯑ſelf.—One of his d—d adherents told me, that in the midſt of their uproar, a ſervant of Watcher's mingled with the mob; they bore the ſervant on their ſhoulders.—Swore, that maugre all power on earth they would have him out. And that if he would not come to the window to ſatisfy them that he was well, and well-uſed—they would in⯑ſtantly knock down every thing before them, and make their way to his apartment.—The ſervant told them he would ſpeak to them, and had twice [9] attempted it, but that their clamour was ſo noiſy, he could not be heard.—My Lord, it will ſurpriſe you, but 'tis true, the word of command for ſilence was given out, and in a trice all was as ſtill as a bagnio at mid-day.—The ſervant returned. Watcher came to his window and harrangued the people, upon the impropriety of their aſſembling in ſuch numbers neglecting their buſineſs, and their families, to do him more harm than good—told them, his confinement was by appointment of law, that the ſame law would ſoon relieve him; and that he would not for a kingdom enjoy one hour of freedom that was contrary to law.—He prayed them to diſmiſs—and promiſed that ſhould any illegal ſteps be purſued to puniſh him, or injure them, he would then be glad of and call for their aſſiſtance, but at preſent he had no complaints.—

Curſe his diſcretion!

But all would not do, my Lord—he had no ſooner finiſhed, and pulled down his win⯑dow, than the ſhouting grew louder—his ene⯑mies were all d—d—and ſwearing that there could be neither law nor reaſon to puniſh ſo great a man; the outrage grew more violent—they inſulted the ſenturies — and J— requires more force, otherwiſe, he ſays, he'll abandon his poſt.—

So far well—fly inſtantly and find Lord Barnacle.—

See, my Lord, he's here!

My good Lord—you're welcome—

My Lord—the uproar increaſes—Lord Wimple begs your lordſhip's opinion—Lord Shel⯑ter oppoſes ſending any troops, or if any ſhould be ſent, he is for marching all the three regiments, [10] that the people ſeeing no chance of oppoſition may diſperſe quietly.—

Why, my Lord—that would be to re⯑preſent g— as too fearful, and the mob as too important.—My opinion is, that a ſmall de⯑tachment ſhould firſt be ſent;—if they are reſiſted, let others be ready to reinforce them; and let the t—d r—t be kept under arms as a reſerve, that, when the fury of the ruffians is thus gradual⯑ly rouſed to a proper pitch, they may have a good pretence to fall upon them, and heartily revenge their country's affronts.—

Yours, my Lord, is the judgment of a Soloman—I go about it.—

Take care, my Lord, what ammunition may be ſerved out—none of your harmleſs ſmall ſhot.—Ball—ball!

Enough ſaid—my Lord.—

SCENE, the Fields.

HUzza!—a—a—! Watcher and Liberty!—

Liberty and Watcher for ever! huzza!—a—a—

Watcher and Liberty! huzza—a—a—

What! ho! ſogers advance! have a care, you mad people! what in the devil's name are ye all about.—Let me hear who dare to cry for Watcher! or for Liberty!—I ſhall Liberty ye!—Inſolent wretches! be gone, I ſay; nor dare to in⯑ſult the guardians of our peace, the ſogers!—

Ha! ha! ha! ſmoak him! ſmoak him! hey⯑dey maſter J—E, does your worſhip think to reſtrain our tongues, becauſe you have got Mr. Watcher's body confined?—d—me if e'er a j—e of ye all ſhall confine my tongue, nor my t—l either, when I have a mind to uſe them! huzza—Watcher and Liberty, huzza—a—a—

Mark—mark—maſter C—, mind theſe women, I ſhall know them again—there are ſome men and boys too who are roaring Watcher and Liberty!—We ſhall have more ſogers by and bye—I will read the act—and then we ſhall ſee who bawls for Watcher and Liberty—ſome of ye ſhall ſleep in your ſhoes I'll warrant ye!

O! rare J—!—Your worſhip will read the ack, will you?—You'd better wipe your a—ſe with it! What—in the devil's name read the ack—againſt women and children! read the ack! I ſay read the ack too—Y'ad better read an ack againſt fornication and adultery, maſter J—e—Sleep in our ſhoes too! O! brave general J—e! go home, and ſleep in your horns, maſter J—e—You'll do more good, by minding your wife and your ſhop, than coming here to read acks againſt Conſcience, Watcher and Liberty!—

Huzza—a—a—Watcher and Liberty for ever!

Huzza—a—Watcher and Liberty! for ever, huzza—a—.

—"Gentle⯑men—I have done every thing in the power of a civil magiſtrate cloathed with all the autho⯑rity of g—t! and as the repreſentative of our auguſt and venerable young—! to reform and diſperſe this unlawful and dangerous mob!—who threaten d—n to all the great m—s of ſt— who have ſcandalouſly ſlandered the wiſe name of the noble Lord BOTCH! altho' to his lordſhip's wiſdom this great n—n is ſo much indebted—for purchaſing to us and our poſterity—a glorious, laſting and honourable peace!—Who have dared to utter vile lying aſperſions againſt the greateſt l—y of this, or any other n—n!—And who, what is worſt of all, have had the impudence to laugh at the reſpectable authority of the quorum now aſſembled in my perſon.—For all which rebellious practices! Gentlemen, I give you full authority to chaſtiſe that liberty, which theſe lawleſs people contend for; and to ſecure their perſons by death; or any other lawful methods, which to your great wiſdom and clemency ſhall be judged moſt ex⯑pedient—So God ſave the k—, and grant you ſucceſs!"—

Huzza—a—a—Watcher and Liberty for⯑ever! huzza.

Macſlaughter and Mac⯑murder, do you mark that young raſcal yonderhow loud he roars?

Aye—aye—your honour—We'll do for him preſently?

Recover your arms!—As you were!—No more firing—What in the name of God is all this for? I can ſee no riot, no, nor the leaſt reſiſt⯑ance!—And yet a great many unoffending people killed and wounded!—Shame!—ſhame! that Britiſh arms ſhould be thus proſtituted!—

D—me Donald!—I have done for that young rebel!

You!—C—e your blud!—'twas me that finiſhed his E—ſaul!—Sin of a bitch! he bawled for leeberty too! he'll bawl nae mair, Baldy! I'ſe anſwer for that!—

So d—me—you wou'd ha' a the oner o't!—I'll be c—, but I fir'd firſt.—

No matter for that—it was my duble bullets that put an end to his quaaking—

Na! God, Donald, if you come to that—the coptain himſel ga' 'um the laſt tutch.—

Deel mak matter, man, how it was, its doon, and gif wee had but our awn h—d r—s heer—'fore God—we might ſend a' the E— ſauls of them to follow his.—

Hadd your tung, mon, there's the Cornet, he's nae grit friend to Lord BOTCH—d—m he lykes the E— o'er weel.—

SCENE, a Garden.

Why, friend Blunt—theſe are ſhame⯑ful and terrible doings.—See what all this patri⯑otiſm of Watchers brings upon us?

Friend Honeſty thou art certainly mad!—All this patriotiſm of Watchers!—What in the name of juſtice!—Do you blame Watcher?

No, I do not blame Watcher as the actual tranſgreſſor, but as the original cauſe; for had he kept himſelf quiet, and given no countenance to the mob, perhaps his paſt offences might have been forgotten; the g—t might have overlookt him; then there would have been no canvaſſing, no caballing, nor no riots!—

Friend Honeſty—you are not yet well acquainted with the true ſpirit and character of Jack Watcher.—Some others of your more pu⯑ſilanimous liberty boaſters, would, as you ſay, have kiſſed the rod long before now.—But Jack is not that man—he has once fairly engaged to be liberty's and the people's champion.—And to ex⯑poſe to the juſt cenſure of the public, thoſe m—l ſ—s, who would ſacrifice both to the luſt of their own temporary emolument—he has reſolution, and he has honeſty.—And ſhould arbi⯑trary meaſures ſo far prevail againſt him as to bring him even under ſentence of death—Whilſt the people will adhere to him, and until he obtains for them, the end of his noble purſuit; he would go to that death ſooner than owe his life to m—l favour!

Well! well! but to what end does he ſeduce the people to neglect their buſineſs; and to make all this rout and noiſe, ſo much to the pre⯑judice of themſelves and neglect of their families? I ſtill ſay that he is indirectly the cauſe of this day's ſlaughter!

Watcher does by no means either ſeduce or inflame them.—They are ſenſible that it is on account of his firm attachment to them, and to the juſt influence he has got amongſt them, that the reſentment of a—n ſo keenly perſecutes him; they juſtly think, if they were to leave him to lie neglected in a priſon, where he's confined for their ſakes, it would be the height of ingratitude.—This leads numbers of them ſucceſſively to ſhew their perſonal gratitude, by which they imagine they keep up his ſpirits—This is poiſon to his perſecutors.—They make a parade of g—s, c—s, &c.—Such parades always gather abundance of idlers; and the indifferent, and the intereſted mingling together, look like a concourſe of people, and are howſoever quiet, branded with the name of mob!—The ſcheme of g—t is to deter every body from ſo much as looking at him.—In hopes, by procraſtinating his trial as they do, from day to day, that the people will at length be tired out, and ſo deſert him:—But to blame him with any fatal conſequences, is juſt as reaſon⯑able as it would be to blame me.—If I ſent out a ſhip to purchaſe wealth to the nation, and if by the miſmanagement of the maſter or pilot, the ſhip ſhould be loſt—the loſs of that ſhip's crew may, I ſay, be as juſtly imputed to me, as the murders of this day can be imputed to honeſt Jack Watcher.

Well, Blunt, but what ſecurity have the people, or you in your minds; ſuppoſing that Watcher was to get the better of his ene⯑mies; [16] what ſecurity have you, I ſay, that he would more than others before him, exert un⯑changeably all his maſterly faculties for the public weal.

Every earthly ſecurity that can be promiſed upon incorruptibility!—a clear head!—and an honeſt heart!

Pray what mighty proofs has he given of being incorruptible?

Proofs, in ſuch a caſe cannot be poſitive, becauſe corruption ſeldom admits of evidence.—But never was any caſe ſupported by ſo ſtrong preſumptive proof.—During his ſervice in p—t, his vigilance and activity could not eſcape the no⯑tice of the m—s.—We all know that many, with not the half of his talents, were bought off at a very high price, and his continuing ſo long unplaced, and unpenſioned, is a convincing teſtimony to me, that he was not to be purchaſed.—In the next place, when through him, ſuch a wound was given to the native liberty of E—! can you ſuppoſe that any ſon of corruption would have, in defence of it, undergone ignominious trials, and ſuffered impriſonment, when doubtleſs he could have avoid⯑ed both, by letting the ſtab which liberty had ſuſ⯑tained, paſs unnoticed! Would not the m—y, think you, have paid him a very high price; rather than have ſubmitted to the diſgrace he brought upon them, and their emiſſaries? and yet did he not, as advocate for the public, peril his freedom and fortune, rather than yield one inch of theirs?

Why Blunt, theſe are ſtrong preſumptions, I confeſs; but how will you juſtify that clearneſs of head, and goodneſs of heart, you aſcribe to him, when you conſider the cenſure of p—t!— [17] and the v—s of a j—, ſtanding againſt him for ſedition and impiety?

As for the ſeditious part of it, Honeſty has too much good ſenſe not to grant me, that the ſpeeches put into the mouths of the beſt of k—s by wicked m—rs, have before Watcher's time been as freely handled, and not a word ſaid about it.—As to the accuſation of impiety—I am ſorry he is liable to the imputation.—But I will no more admit that he was guilty of a publication in that caſe; than if you was to ſhew me a witty poem; however wild it might be, of which I ſhould wiſh for a copy, and you ſhould conſent to let me take one, on condition that I would furniſh you with two or three.—The peruſal of free thoughts on religious ſubjects, is only dangerous to the morals of mankind when they fall into the hands of weak heads, incapable of diſtinguiſhing between right and wrong.—When they come into the hands of men of ſenſe, they will be able to diſ⯑cover and expoſe their errors, and thereby do rather ſervice than harm to the truth.—And as it is impoſſible to conceive that ever the piece in queſ⯑tion was deſigned for the public eye, as I can't help thinking that a moſt abſurd verdict which pronounced it to be a publication; and by that means ſubjected the undeſigning copier to the puniſh⯑ment due to a criminal publiſher.

Upon my word Blunt—thou mak'ſt no bad advocate for thy friend Jack Watcher.

My friend! d'ye call him?—'Faith he's too keen a fellow to be a friend to Blunt—any farther, than as being the friend of the public, he's every man's friend; and as ſuch, he ſhall always have Blunt's beſt wiſhes. Nay, neighbour! I'll fairly tell you, that I'm determined to ſtand by him at the peril of all I'm worth.

Give me thy fiſt, Blunt!—for, by my ſoul, Honeſty will go hand in hand with thee.—I'll tell thee Blunt—It is now no trifling queſti⯑on—I don't at preſent look upon it as a ſimple contention between Watcher and the m—y!—I conſider it as war openly declared between Liberty and arbitrary Power!—At no juncture, have the people ſo unanimouſly and avowedly diſtinguiſhed themſelves in the cauſe of Free⯑dom and Patriotiſm!—And if it ſhould be in the power of prerogative and deſpotiſm to render their endeavours upon this occaſion, ineffectual, then may every one of us be next employed to rivet his neighbour's chains!—Along then, friend Blunt, let's go to the Duke's Head, and quaff one ſober bottle—to Liberty—to Watcher—and to every true friend of our good kind and free-conſtitution!—

SCENE, changes to Covent Garden.

Hiſt! hiſt—Mr. Blunt! one word.

What d'ye want, ye jade? get about your buſineſs—I have no leiſure for you.—

Heyday! what the devil's the matter? get about my buſineſs!—I have been in queſt of buſineſs all the evening, and can find none—Times are very hard! d—d hard indeed, Mr. Blunt!—Do! for charities ſake, treat me with a ſingle pint—and a little bit of—any thing.

Why—you hungry jade you, why don't you get to work? You could, if you would, do well enough!—But you prefer idleneſs, whor⯑ing, [19] and ſtarving, to induſtry, decency, and a com⯑fortable living?

'On my ſoul, now, that's merry enough—What is Blunt turned reformer too?—I ſhall loſe all my friends bye and bye.—There's my good friend Jack Watcher already cooped up for pre⯑tending to reform politicks, and his acquaintance Blunt, to follow his ambitious example, muſt next engage in a taſk, juſt as arduous!—a reformation of petticoats!—But to be ſerious, Mr. Blunt.—I own I'm idle—not becauſe I love idleneſs; but, becauſe I dare not think—whoring I abhor—tho' neceſſity obliges me ſometimes to practice it—and when the few friends with whom I really can enjoy an hour, happen to be out o'the way; you would pity me, if you knew how diſtreſt I am—I have (hungry, as I am) ſhun'd half a dozen opportunities this ſame evening, of feaſting and carouſing!—but to go amidſt ſuch debauchery and rioting, as yet my ſtomach riſes againſt.

Well, JENNY—I do pity thee—I muſt give thee a bit of ſupper—but tell me, how came you to fall out with Lord Scratch?

Why, Blunt, I'll be honeſt and tell you—Although I was actually faithful to Scratch while I lived at his expence, yet I never lik'd him—Where one does not like—they cannot give plea⯑ſure—he conceited himſelf the prettieſt little fel⯑low in the world—and expected to be courted by a thouſand ſort of amorous blandiſhments, that I could not force myſelf to divert him with—he grew alſo cool—mutual indifference enſued!—When my dear undoer came to town—I long'd to repeat the act of my ruin!—In fine, without the leaſt anger, we parted juſt as decently as we met.

Why i'faith, JENNY! thou art as ill calculated for a wanton, as any of thy profeſſion I ever knew.

Dear Blunt! don't for love's ſake, call it a profeſſion; thoſe who make a profeſſion of it—have the power or art, which you will, to pleaſe every body alike!—That I can't do—I have too quick ſenſations, and too much honeſty to be a whore—I ſhould for all the world, make juſt ſuch another whore, as your friend Jack Watcher would make a courtier—He would like very well to enjoy all the pleaſures, luxury and gaiety of a court; but he has too much honeſty to pur⯑chaſe them by flattery and diſſimulation.

Well ſaid, JENNY!—Then you con⯑tinue firm to Watcher, even in his troubles—that's another property ſeldom to be met with among the gay ladies! they I'm told have all deſerted him on account of the impious E— on W—!

That's an E—. Mr. Blunt, I never ſaw—but if it contained any thing to the prejudice of women, I'll be ſworn it was none of Jack Watchers! and as to its impiety—if he had been tried by the judge, before whom the hypocrites brought the woman that was caught in adultery—he had eſcaped as unhurt as ſhe did!—Is there a b—p, p—r, or c—r among 'em all, think ye—that dared in conſcience to have thrown the firſt ſtone?

Ha! he! he!—

SCENE, Lord Shelter's Houſe.

My Lord—theſe things won't do!—I ſhall reſign by heav'ns!—

But—pray, my Lord—

It is to no purpoſe to talk to me—what! to have the name of power—and of office; and by that means to pull down on my head the juſt reſentment of an abuſed people; for barbari⯑ties wantonly committed upon them, not only without my conſent, but contrary to my opinion—'tis too much—I won't ſuffer it.

Pray, my good Lord, be calm but for a moment—did ever any government bear patiently with ſuch inſult and lawleſs outrage as the pre⯑ſent?—Where pray was it to end?—No man—not even the—himſelf could promiſe to en⯑joy one moment of peace, whilſt thoſe tumultuous harpies were permitted to aſſemble and ravage with impunity in the manner they have done, ever ſince the c—e —.

My Lord! I muſt inſiſt upon it, that there were a thouſand leſs deſperate methods to be fallen upon, that would have pacified them much more effectually than by becoming rioters ourſelves, and putting into the hands of irritated troops, the power of dealing death and deſtruction amongſt an unarmed multitude.—Watcher, ob⯑ſtinate as he is, has better ſenſe, than to have en⯑couraged his followers to proceed to the commiſ⯑ſion [22] of any ravages, which muſt rather have created him enemies than friends.

Well! my Lord—but 'tis now over—and can't be helpt—don't let us by differing among ourſelves, give our enemies the advantage of laughing at us—We can ſet the pens of pro⯑ſtitution at work, to aggravate the madneſs of the people into a ſemblance of rebellion! and by that means make the reſt of the nation imagine that a little military diſcipline was abſolutely neceſſary.

My Lord! you are in the ſcrape—get yourſelves out of it as well as you can—I'll keep my hands clean of it—but I will meddle in none of your affairs, until I can ſee that by ſome ſenſible means or other you have appeaſed the wrath of an abuſed people—In every other thing—I am at his m—s ſervice.

Well—my Lord—I hope we ſhall be able to cook it upto your lordſhip's ſatisfaction—Adieu!

ACT III. SCENE I.

COME on boys—huzza, Watcher—huzza Liberty—d—n Botch—d—n m—y—down with them—huzza! revenge! revenge!

Huzza boys—let's from one end of the town to t'other—and if that won't do from one end of the nation to t'other—huzza—E— blood cruelly ſpilt by butchering S—! revenge—revenge—huzza! Watcher for ever! huzza—liberty for ever, huzza—a—a—

Revenge!—revenge!—huzza—

Huzza! liberty for ever!—huzza—But hear me—Brave neighbours and fellow citi⯑zens:—let us think how we may beſt obtain our revenge—don't let us run our heads againſt a wall; and by raſhneſs here, give our enemies an advan⯑tage in other parts of the n—n—Let the whole n—n be firſt convinced of the wrongs we ſuffer—Let brave Watcher patiently and with perſeverance bear the courſe of law.—Think, that in the eyes of the reſt of mankind, who know not all that we [] do, that you hurt the cauſe of our champion;—our enemies try to make the world believe—that we have no other views than to protect Watcher from the judgment of a l—l c—t—That we frighten the hand of juſtice by outrage and depredations—Theſe falſhoods, create enemies to him and to our glorious cauſe—the cauſe of liber⯑ty!—Let us be more regular and peaceable—and ſtudy to gain friends in place of enemies—The rigour of l—may—for a little time keep pa⯑triotiſm in chains—but it dare not deſtroy it—The greateſt l—l ſeverity muſt in courſe come to an end—then—then—Watcher will be free!—Then he will have in his power to put himſelf law⯑fully at our head—and to exert all the power of unfettered patriotiſm for the redemption of his groaning country.—Then—then—my friends—will be the time to revenge her, and your injuries—Then huzza—huzza—for ever—Watcher and liberty!

Huzza—huzza—huzza—

D—n'd good ſenſe—Tom.

Ay—that's the barber!

Ay—ay—d—me, let's go home, mind our buſineſs, and get more ſtrength and more money to ſupport Jack when he is free, bravely to fight our cauſe for us!—Watcher and Liberty for ever!—huzza—huzza—huzza.

I'faith, friend Blunt, that little harangue of yours has had a better effect, and done more good in five minutes, than all the m—l force of the kingdom could have effected in a week.

Why, I'll tell thee Honeſty.—I ſay no⯑thing but what are in reality the ſentiments of Watcher himſelf—In the beginning of his endea⯑vours here—popular appearances were neceſſary for [25] him, to ſupply the defections of thoſe affected pa⯑triots who had formerly flattered him with their eternal protection.—He found, after he had riſked all, and ſpent all, in purſuit of the very ſchemes they had concerted with him, that they had fallen off, and become ſo luke-warm, that unleſs he ſhould be able to inſpirit the public with a juſt ſenſe of his and their own oppreſſions, he muſt fall a ſacrifice to real merit—he therefore, did not at firſt diſ⯑courage their cabals; but as no man is more anxi⯑ous than he, to preſerve order and harmony in the community, and knowing very well the danger⯑ous effects of popular fury; he has laboured with as much zeal to moderate their reſentments, as he nobly intends to employ for the redreſs of their grievances!

But pray tell me, Blunt! have his lately ſo great and powerful friends actually abandoned him.

Not entirely abandoned him,—that's what for their own ſakes, at leaſt for the ſake of that popularity on which they would ſtill fain plume themſelves; they dare hardly do.—They continue I believe to contribute towards his ex⯑pence—but for his noble and ſpirited meaſures, they leave him to ſtruggle through them the beſt way he can.—They will not conſent, I imagine, that he be too rigorouſly handled; but they will as little concur with him in bringing to juſtice thoſe tools of A—n who have diſgraced and plunder⯑ed the nation, to aggrandize themſelves, and to cruſh the efforts of true patriotiſm.

By my ſoul—Blunt!—I always feared it would be ſo—And yet, who could have thought it?—Who, for example to have heard the pa⯑triotic declamations of an orator Chatwell, while a c—r!—could have believed, he would ever [26] ſubmit to that degenerated inactivity, in which they now rock him to ſleep.

Chatwell's degeneracy does by no means ſurprize me, I have ever lookt upon him to be the vaineſt of all men!—his beſt hopes were, from the beginning, founded in the people's applauſe; that he courted; that he obtained; and he has made a good account of it.—The amazing ſuc⯑ceſs which crown'd his a—n, made him the idol of the people, who would not ſee how greedily he adorned himſelf with ornaments of which he often ſpoiled the real purchaſer; no man in theſe days dared to contradict him, and he therefore aſ⯑ſumed every glory to himſelf.

Why Blunt—all that's but too true—nor did I begrudge him at that time any honour [...]he graſpt at—I regarded him as the ſaviour of a ſinking ſtate, and thought the more honour he acquired, the more he ſhould have it in his power to diſtri⯑bute juſtice.—

Yes, juſtice!—what juſtice pray did he attain for the honeſt q—I forgot his name—but who from pure publick ſpiritedneſs—threw himſelf out of a thriving trading company—Plan'd the attempt upon S—l—ſpent every ſhilling he had induſtriouſly gained, that he might convince the M—y of his ſincerity—aſſiſted or at leaſt directed, in the operations which con⯑quered it,—came home big with the hopes of grateful acknowledgments from ſo patriotic an A—n.—Theſe hopes, not founded on imagi⯑nation only, but in written holograph aſſurances under the hand of the great patriot himſelf—and did not Chatwell nevertheleſs, not only aſſume to himſelf the whole merit of that ſcheme, but would fain have retracted his promiſes—and becauſe the honeſt q—, unſchool'd in the [27] ſcience of politicks, would not belye himſelf, and ſuffer the whole honour of the project to be aſcribed ſolely to Chatwell,—did not Chatwell in place of rewarding, neglect, and inſult him?—And as I'm well aſſured, had it not been for the generoſity and truly patriotick application of Lord Shelter, the S—y, who ſolicited and obtained a penſion for the original contriver of that conqueſt,—then in very deep diſtreſs—the reſentment of Chat⯑well would have left the cheated q—, to have lamented in indigence the folly of a merchant, having forſook trade, to ſpend a fortune in the publick ſervice!

I have indeed heard as much—and far⯑ther—that although to demonſtration, there never was a better concerted plan—yet—that unleſs it had been countenanced and enforced by Lord H—, all the q—'s fervency never could have moved the ſpirit of A—n, to have carried it into execution.—

I believe that's true—for H— was certainly the firſt who adopted it, and as far as he had influence promoted it—H—is no bad man:—and I wiſh the execution of the d—d g— w— had fallen to any other m—r's ſhare than his.

Well—but pray, tell me, what did the q— get by it at laſt?

Why—he got a penſion—I don't know how much—but I'mtold—little more than ſufficient to pay up the very debt he was obliged to contract, during the time he was ſoliciting it.

Well, Blunt—and if Chatwell, now that he is again in A—n does not exert himſelf, to repair at leaſt, a fortune, ſo ſequeſter'd to the pub⯑lick uſe—may—

Ay!—may the next fool, that ſpends a ſhilling in ſuch a ſervice, be hang'd—as well as—beggar'd.

But tell me Blunt—might not the fate of the q— have ſerved as a beacon to your friend Jack Watcher?

Friend Honeſty—the caſe is extremely different—The q— for the ſervice of his country, had but one ſingle object in view—upon the fate of that, he was willing to peril his life and all he was worth;—but it was ſtill in the character of a merchant—if his project failed he was undone—if it ſucceeded, he hoped to avail himſelf, by ſome preference in the commercial way.—Watcher's enthuſiaſm is of quite another fort—he penetrates into the bowels of a—n, he ſees by what poiſon it has been infected—he is anxious to purge it—and will rather die, than leave it unreſtored to its primitive conſtitution—he has abilities and perſeverance—And while he breathes, he will flatter himſelf with being upheld by honeſt men.—That, at length, if not in the c— at leaſt in the ſ—, he may be the terror of evil doers—Amen—ſo be it

SCENE changes and diſcovers Lord Botch and Lord Manſupple, extremely ſerious.

And what does your lordſhip think may be the conſequence?

My lord! I'm ſorry to tell it you, but it is truly my private opinion, that the maſter j—e, the o—rs, who gave orders to fire, and the raſcals who left their ſtations, deſerve all to be hanged!—

It muſt not be—or by G—d, I'm un⯑done—If theſe poor fellows, who only acted un⯑der ſuperior order, are given up—The whole army will be as much incenſed, as the people are now!—My dear Lord—think how you may but ſcreen us for this once; and I'll promiſe you that there never ſhall be any thing again countenanced on my part, without your lordſhip's advice.

Why, my Lord, you never put a more difficult taſk upon me; if we had conſented to take bail for Watcher—we might with ſome colour of juſtice have bailed the ſ—, and then the worſt would have been a forfeiture of the bail:—But how in equity can we accept the bail of wilful mur⯑derers!—after having rejected it, in the caſe of ludi⯑crous publications, will be ſomething ſo repugnant to common ſenſe, that every porter has judgment to reaſon upon the impropriety.—In a word, my Lord, they muſt be tried—and if condemned—you may obtain a pardon for them.

That will never do;—We moſt not impoſe ſuch a hardſhip upon the—, he begins to think for himſelf—and his humane ſoul, is ſo reſolutely inacceſſible, to the moſt powerful in⯑terceſſions in the caſe of murder, that the greateſt favourites at c—t, would hazard their reputation, by the application.

My Lord! I have every diſpoſition in the world for your ſervice; but you know how much the eyes of mankind are upon me; and there⯑fore I will by no means condeſcend to take upon me the burthen of an affair which would make my [30] name ſtink in their opinion. Pray have you talkt to the a—y g—l upon this ſubject?

My Lord, I have not—but I'm cer⯑tain he will not heſitate a moment, to do any thing he may do, conſiſtently with his office.

Then the greateſt difficulty is over—murder is one of the pl— of the c—.—Let a well-timed petition be preſented—prepare the a— g— for it—And, if no objection is made, the thing will go of courſe, as if the j— knew nothing at all of the matter.

My Lord, I go about it—your moſt obedient!

That unhappy man! by warping him⯑ſelf into a power he ne'er was equal to—has formed for himſelf a bed of thorns, whereon he'll be reſt⯑leſs all his life!—

My Lord—may it pleaſe your lordſhip—here are ſome rioters, catched in the very fact!—Will your lordſhip be ſo good as order them to the B—, or to N—?

Not ſo faſt friend! pray let me firſt know what fact they were caught in?

Why, my Lord! in no leſs, than the rebellious fact of roaring out Watcher and Li⯑berty!—

And pray, good maſter Conſtable, what bad conſequence attended the crying out Watcher and Liberty?

Bad conſequence!—is not Watcher and Liberty conſequence ſufficient? is not Watcher and Liberty a heinous ſin?

No maſter conſtable, there is no more ſin in the words Watcher and Liberty! than there is common ſenſe in the word Conſtable—It is ac⯑cording as they are employed, that they are uſe⯑ful, or troubleſome, to the community.—And I am afraid that you are as much miſtaken in having brought theſe people before me; as they are miſtaken in neglecting their buſineſs to cry out Watcher and Liberty—

and pray ma⯑dam how comes a gentlewoman of your appear⯑ance to be amongſt the reſt.

For ſaying, my Lord! what I ima⯑gine your Lordſhip thinks—That this wiſeacre of a conſtable, was—a fool!—I was accidentally paſſing by, ſaw theſe people, in no other act of rioting, than laughing and ſinging ſomething about Watcher and Liberty; and this ſagacious gen⯑tleman having laid hold of them—I did tell him, that if he carried them before any judge, he would be laughed at for a fool!—So! madam, ſays the conſtable—you are a Watcherite too—along, along! you ſhall go with the reſt!—Thus, my Lord, I have the honour to be preſented to your lordſhip.

Pray, Sir, why is this gentlewoman brought here?

Why? my Lord—I think, ſhe's hang⯑ed by her own confeſſion!—does ſhe not own that ſhe called a civil magiſtrate a fool, in the due execution of his office?

My good friend—It is not poſſible, in every caſe to ſuppreſs the truth—I'm afraid—when a conſtable acts fooliſhly—one may call him a fool—without incurring the cenſure of the law—let me adviſe you for your own ſake to carry for the future, ſuch offenders before ſome of the acting j— s— don't trouble me with them.—And in [32] the mean time, you had beſt ſtep in ſome where with theſe honeſt people, and take a reconciling pot, leſt it ſhould be put into their heads, to aſk ſome queſtions about unlawful detention.—So, go about your buſineſs.

You had beſt ſtop a moment, my dear!—let the croud be gone before you expoſe yourſelf among 'em!

Your lordſhip's very obliging—but I have nothing to fear, except from ſuch brutes as that there conſtable.

I imagine not, madam!—men of larger abilities—would hardly terrify ſo pretty a creature as you

"egad ſhe's handſome."

My Lord!

I ſay my dear—That men of the beſt underſtandings, are generally too partial to the ſex; not to deſire, rather to pleaſe, than frighten thoſe ſo capable of charming!—

Your Lordſhip's very good—And though your obſervation's rather favourable—It is not, I imagine, altogether unjuſt: for where will you find a gentleman of livelier parts than my oppreſt friend Jack Watcher! and ſurely our ſex never had reaſon to doubt of his benevolence for 'em!

So madam!—I find at length, you are a well wiſher to Mr. Watcher!—

Yes, my Lord—I avow it—and if your Lordſhip!—I mean—if every body would ſpeak their ſentiments as honeſtly as I do mine; Watcher [33] would have avoided a great deal of diſtreſs, and your Lordſhip a great deal of trouble.

Come, come, madam! no politics!—Politics methinks comes as awkwardly from the lips of a fine woman as love would come from the lips of an old judge.

And ſo, my Lord!—you would have me lay aſide my awkwardneſs!—that your Lordſhip might put on yours!—but as the one ſubject could not be more diſguſtful to your lordſhip—than the other would to me—Your Lordſhip will pleaſe to excuſe me,—my Lord I'm yours.

To that ſtrange inconſiſtence can that ſame fooliſh paſſion lead a man? When neither decency, ſituation, nor age, are able to withſtand its temptations!—There's that little ſly minx, after aſſuming every inviting leer of diſſembled wanton⯑neſs, has at laſt walkt her ways unmov'd, that ſhe may divert herſelf amongſt her companions at the expence of my character—ſo much for the ſtu⯑pidity of a conſtable.

SCENE changes, diſcovers a crowd of men and women—pulling and hawling a raw S—.

D—n ye! who are you for then? ſpeak!

The deevel's i the weemen! wat woud ye be at?

Trounce the dog! trounce him! Moll!

Speak ye fool! can't ye ſay Watcher and Liberty, and then you may go about your buſineſs.—

I'll ſay leeberty! as faſt and as lood: as ony o'ye—but I dinna lyke Watcher—he's d—d a my coontry! if ye're a for leeberty! why dinna ye gi me my leeberty?—

Souſe him! ſouſe him! he's an obſti⯑nate dog!

You blockead had not you better ſpeak one word to get off, than to be pull'd and hawl'd about ſo?

Speak you cub you—cry—down with Botch—up Watcher and Liberty! huzza—

Ay, ay, doon wi Botch!—Doon wi Botch! I care nae mair for Botch than ony o'ye—Doon wi Botch! leeberty—leeberty—hurra.

Come, come, let the fellow alone—he's none of Botch's folks ye ſee.

D—Botch! what's Botch to me!

What friend, is not Lord Botch your countryman? has he not made ye all rich? and don't you love him for that?

Made us a' ritch! I ſay ritch too! I'll tell ye neebers—ye ne'er was mair miſtaken in a your life—My maiſter's maiſter is a parliament mon, and I hiv hard him ſay, that except it be for his awn ſaimely or neer conneckſion, and for twa or three graceleſs yung cheels lyke a H— and a W— that were chaced oot o' the country, and wha wanted to mak him a G— or a K— at leaſt that he ne'er did gued to any body—Thae cheels, they ſay, gat in ſae meickle about him, that they wadna let ony body come neer him, but what they lykt. In ſhort lods! they ſay, that thae upſtart cheels wanted as mutch to leed him by the noaſe, as he led—his maiſter!

Hear him! hear him! i'faith Sawney's no ſenſeleſs fellow!—Speak on Sawney! you're a good honeſt lad.

They ca' me Donald, I'ſe tell ye, and yet deel a bane i Botches ſkin do I lyke for a' hat, my maiſter ſays, that a S— might ha' been hard at the good old D— of N—s ten times ſooner, than coud ſae muckle as ſee Lord Botch once! for he was ay ſae barracaded we thae idle flattering cheels, that nae body that was better than themſels, wod get neer him—And it is them they ſay, that's made a' the S— ſae ill ſpoken of in this muckle toon.

Well ſaid, Sawney! and I will tell you, Sawney! Donald I mean, that that may be the reaſon why honeſt Watcher hates Lord Botch ſo much, for it is only him, and ſuch S— as you ſpeak of, that he diſlikes.

Is it ſae? then i'ſe be for Watcher as weil as the beſt o' ye!—huzza—a—a—Watcher Leeberty for ever, huzza—a—a.

Watcher and Liberty for ever! huzza—a—a—.