d pains;
Estates confiscate, slav'ry, and despair,
Wrecks, halters, axes, gibbeting and chains,
All the dread ills that wait on civil war;----
How I could glut my vengeful eyes to see
The weeping maid thrown helpless on the world,
Her sire cut off.--Her orphan brothers stand,
While the big tear rolls down the manly cheek.
Robb'd of maternal care by grief's keen shaft,
The sorrowing mother mourns her starving babes,
Her murder'd lord torn guiltless from her side,
And flees for shelter to the pitying grave
To screen at once from slavery and pain.

HAZLEROD.

But more complete I view this scene of woe,
By the incursions of a savage foe,
Of which I warn'd them, if they dare refuse
The badge of slaves, and bold resistance use.
Now let them suffer--I'll no pity feel.

HATEALL.

Nor I!----But had I power, as I have the will,
I'd send them murm'ring to the shades of hell.

_End of the First Act._

ACT II.

_The scene changes to a large dining room. The table furnished with
bowls, bottles, glasses, and cards.----The Group appear sitting
round in a restless attitude. In one corner of the room is discovered
a small cabinet of books, for the use of the studious and
contemplative; containing, Hobbs's Leviathan, Sipthorp's Sermons,
Hutchinson's History, Fable of the Bees, Philalethes on Philanthropy,
with an appendix by Massachusettensis, Hoyl on Whist, Lives of the
Stuarts, Statutes of Henry the Eighth, and William the Conqueror,
Wedderburne's speeches, and acts of Parliament, for 1774._

SCENE I.

_HATEALL, HAZLEROD, MONSIEUR, BEAU TRUMPS, SIMPLE, HUMBUG, SIR
SPARROW, &c., &c._

SCRIBLERIUS.

----Thy toast, Monsieur,
Pray, why that solemn phiz:--
Art thou, too, balancing 'twixt right and wrong?
Hast thou a thought so mean as to give up
Thy present good, for promise in reversion?
'Tis true hereafter has some feeble terrors,
But ere our grizzly heads are wrapt in clay
We may compound, and make our peace with Heav'n.

MONSIEUR.

Could I give up the dread of retribution,
The awful reck'ning of some future day,
Like surly Hateall I might curse mankind,
And dare the threat'ned vengeance of the skies.
Or like yon apostate----

[_Pointing to HAZLEROD, retired to a corner
to read Massachusettensis._

Feel but slight remorse
To sell my country for a grasp of gold.
But the impressio