The Group Part 2

HAZLEROD.

Any why not now?--What staggers thy belief?

CRUSTY.

Himself--his perfidy appears-- It is too plain he has betray'd his country; And we're the wretched tools by him mark'd out To seal its ruins--tear up the ancient forms, And every vestige treacherously destroy, Nor leave a trait of freedom in the land.

Nor did I think hard fate wou'd call me up From drudging o'er my acres, Treading the glade, and sweating at the plough, To dangle at the tables of the great; At bowls and cards to spend my frozen years; To sell my friends, my country, and my conscience; Profane the sacred sabbaths of my G.o.d; Scorn'd by the very men who want my aid To spread distress o'er this devoted people.

HAZLEROD.

Pho--what misgivings--why these idle qualms, This shrinking backwards at the bugbear conscience; In early life I heard the phantom nam'd, And the grave sages prate of moral sense Presiding in the bosom of the just; Or planting thongs about the guilty heart.

Bound by these shackles, long my lab'ring mind, Obscurely trod the lower walks of life, In hopes by honesty my bread to gain; But neither commerce, or my conjuring rods, Nor yet mechanics, or new fangled drills, Or all the iron-monger's curious arts, Gave me a competence of shining ore, Or gratify'd my itching palm for more; Till I dismiss'd the bold intruding guest, And banish'd conscience from my wounded breast.

CRUSTY.

Happy expedient!--Could I gain the art, Then balmy sleep might sooth my waking lids, And rest once more refresh my weary soul.

HAZLEROD.

Resolv'd more rapidly to gain my point, I mounted high in justice's sacred seat, With flowing robes, and head equip'd without, A heart unfeeling and a stubborn soul, As qualify'd as e'er a Jefferies was; Save in the knotty rudiments of law, The smallest requisite for modern times, When wisdom, law, and justice are supply'd By swords, dragoons, and ministerial nods, Sanctions most sacred in the Pander's creed, I sold my country for a splendid bribe.

Now let her sink--and all the dire alarms Of war, confusion, pestilence, and blood, And tenfold mis'ry be her future doom-- Let civil discord lift her sword on high, Nay, sheath its hilt e'en in my brother's blood; It ne'er shall move the purpose of my soul; Tho' once I trembled at a thought so bold; By Philalethes's arguments, convinc'd, We may live Demons, as we die like brutes, I give my tears, and conscience to the winds.

HATEALL.

Curse on their coward fears, and dastard souls, Their soft compunctions and relented qualms, Compa.s.sion ne'er shall seize my steadfast breast Though blood and carnage spread thro' all the land; Till streaming purple tinge the verdant turf, Till ev'ry street shall float with human gore, I Nero-like, the capital in flames, could laugh to see her glotted sons expire, Tho' much too rough my soul to touch the lyre.

SIMPLE.

I fear the brave, the injur'd mult.i.tude, Repeated wrongs, arouse them to resent, And every patriot like old Brutus stands, The shining steel half drawn--its glitt'ring point Scarce hid beneath the scabbard's friendly cell, Resolv'd to die, or see their country free.

HATEALL.

Then let them die--_The dogs we will keep down_-- While N----'s my friend, and G---- approves the deed, Tho' h.e.l.l and all its h.e.l.l-hounds should unite, I'll not recede to save from swift perdition My wife, my country, family, or friends.

G----'s mandamus I more highly prize Than all the mandates of th' etherial king.

HECTOR MUSHROOM.

Will our abettors in the distant towns Support us long against the common cause, When they shall see from Hampshire's northern bounds Thro' the wide western plains to southern sh.o.r.es The whole united continent in arms?----

HATEALL.

They shall--as sure as oaths or bond can bind; I've boldly sent my new-born brat abroad, Th' a.s.sociation of my morbid brain, To which each minion must affix his name, As all our hope depends on brutal force, On quick destruction, misery, and death; Soon may we see dark ruin stalk around, With murder, rapine, and inflicted 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 h.e.l.l.

_End of the First Act._

ACT II.

_The scene changes to a large dining room. The table furnished with bowls, bottles, gla.s.ses, and cards.----The Group appear sitting round in a restless att.i.tude. 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 Ma.s.sachusettensis, 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 Ma.s.sachusettensis._

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

But the impressions of my early youth, Infix'd by precepts of my pious sire, Are stings and scorpions in my goaded breast; Oft have I hung upon my parent's knee And heard him tell of his escape from France; He left the land of slaves, and wooden shoes; From place to place he sought a safe retreat, Till fair Bostonia stretch'd her friendly arm And gave the refugee both bread and peace: (Shall I ungrateful 'rase the sacred bonds, And help to clank the tyrant's iron chains O'er these blest sh.o.r.es--once the sure asylum From all the ills of arbitrary sway?) With his expiring breath he bade his sons, If e'er oppression reach'd the western world, Resist its force, and break the servile yoke.

SCRIBLERIUS.

Well quit thy post;----Go make thy flatt'ring court To Freedom's Sons and tell thy baby fears; Shew the foot traces in thy puny heart, Made by the trembling tongue and quiv'ring lip Of an old grandsire's superst.i.tious whims.

MONSIEUR.

No,----I never can---- So great the itch I feel for t.i.tl'd place, Some honorary post, some small distinction, To save my name from dark oblivion's jaws, I'll hazard all, but ne'er give up my place, For _that_ I'll see Rome's ancient rites restor'd, And flame and f.a.ggot blaze in ev'ry street.

BEAU TRUMPS.

----That's right, Monsieur, There's nought on earth that has such tempting charms As rank and show, and pomp, and glitt'ring dress, Save the dear counters at belov'd Quadril, Viner unsoil'd, and Littleton, may sleep, And c.o.ke lie mould'ring on the dusty shelf, If I by shuffling draw some lucky card That wins the livres, or lucrative place.

HUM HUMBUG.

When sly Rapatio shew'd his friends the scroll, I wonder'd much to see thy patriot name Among the list of rebels to the state, I thought thee one of Rusticus's sworn friends.