Beau Trumps monologue (Act 2) — The Group: A Farce

When first I enter'd on the public stage My country groan'd beneath base Brundo's hand, Virtue look'd fair and beckon'd to her lure, Thro' truth's bright mirror I beheld her charms And wish'd to tread the patriotic path And wear the laurels that adorn his fame; I walk'd a while and tasted solid peace With Cassius, Rusticus, and good Hortensius, And many more, whose names will be rever'd When you, and I, and all the venal herd, Weigh'd in Nemesis, just impartial scale, Are mark'd with infamy, till time blot out And in oblivion sink our hated names. But 'twas a poor unprofitable path, Nought to be gain'd, save solid peace of mind, No pensions, place or title there I found; I saw Rapatio's arts had struck so deep And giv'n his country such a fatal wound, None but his foes promotion could expect; I trim'd, and pimp'd, and veer'd, and wav'ring stood, But half resolv'd to shew myself a knave, Till the Arch Traitor prowling round for aid Saw my suspense and bade me doubt no more;-- He gently bow'd, and smiling took my hand, And whispering softly in my list'ning ear, Shew'd me my name among his chosen band, And laugh'd at virtue dignifi'd by fools, Clear'd all my doubts, and bade me persevere In spite of the restraints, or hourly checks Of wounded friendship, and a goaded mind, Or all the sacred ties of truth and honour.