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did not betray you—and submit to the torments of purgatory, at the pleasure of an overbearing scoundrelly corporal—to run the gantlope, and dance to the music of the drum; or be chained like a galley-slave to a train of artillery?—There's what you have to chuse upon—a charming catalogue of delightful occupations!

You are the prince of orators, Spiegelberg, when you want to make an honest man a scoundrel—But say, gentlemen, what's become of Moor?

Honest man, say you? Will you be the less an honest man, if you follow my advice, than you are at present? What do you call honest? To ease the miser of a part of his load, and give him sound sleep and golden dreams for it; to bring the stagnating metal into circulation, to regulate the unequal balance of fortunes—in short, to bring back the golden age—to rid Providence of a burden, and save Him the trouble of sending war, pestilence, famine, and physic, among us;—to have the proud thought when you sit down to your meal, This is the fruit of my own ingenuity—this was gained by the courage of a lion—or