monstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves at the
foot of the throne, and implored its interposition to arrest the
tyrannical bands of the ministry and parliament. Our petitions have been
slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult;
our supplications disregarded; and we have been spurned with contempt from
the foot of the throne.

In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and
reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be
free; if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for
which we have been so long contending; if we mean not basely to abandon
the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we
have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our
contest shall be obtained--we must fight! I repeat it, we must fight! An
appeal to arms and the God of Hosts, is all that is left us.

They tell us that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an
adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the
next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British
guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by
irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual
resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive
phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? We
are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of
nature hath placed in our power.

Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such
a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our
enemy can send against us. Besides, we shall not fight our battles alone.
There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations; and who
will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle is not to
the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides,
we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too
late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and
slavery! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains
of Boston! The war is inevitable; and; let it come! I repeat it, let it
come!

It is in vain to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace; but
there is no peace. The war is actually begun. The next gale that sweeps
from the north, will bring to our