Should we not obtest Heaven, and whatever justice there is yet on earth?
Oppression makes wise men mad; but the distemper is still the madness
of the wise, which is better than the sobriety of fools. The cry is
the voice of sacred misery, exalted not into wild raving, but into the
sanctified frenzy of prophecy and inspiration--in that bitterness of
soul, in that indignation of suffering virtue, in that exaltation of
despair, would not persecuted English loyalty cry out, with an awful
warning voice, and denounce the destruction that waits on monarchs, who
consider fidelity to them as the most degrading of all vices; who suffer
it to be punished as the most abominable of all crimes; and who have no
respect but for rebels, traitors, regicides, and furious negro slaves,
whose crimes have broken their chains? Would not this warm language
of high indignation have more of sound reason in it, more of real
affection, more of true attachment, than all the lullabies of
flatterers, who would hush monarchs to sleep in the arms of death.