Hazlerod monologue (Act 1) — The Group: A Farce

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.