Wednesday July 1. 1772.
He, who contends for Freedom,
can ne’er be justly deem’d his Sovereign’s Foe:
No, ’tis the wretch that tempts him to subvert it,
The soothing Slave, the Traitor in the Bosom,
Who best deserves that name; he is a worm
That eats out all the Happiness of Kingdoms.1
When Life, or Death,
becomes the Question, all Distinctions vanish;
Then the first Monarch and the lowest Slave
on the same Level Stand, in this the Sons
of equal Nature all.
1. Note by CFA: “These lines are taken from a play, now little read: [James] Thomson’s Edward and Eleanora, act i. sc. 2, and act ii. sc. 2” (, 2:297).