strated ourselves before the throne, and
have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the
ministry and parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our
remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our
supplications have been 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, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to
the God of Hosts is all that is left us!

They tell us, sir, 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? Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of the means which
the God of nature bath 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, sir, 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, sir, is not to the
strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides.
sir, 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, sir, let it come!

It is in vain, sir, 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