WHEN the antient Britons inhabited this island they were renowned even amongst un­civilized states, for personal valour and an ar­dent love of liberty. When they were inter­mingled with other nations, the same cha­racteristic still marked them for a people, ge­nerous, humane, yet fearless of danger, if contending for freedom, their inherent birth­right. When through length of time, and the natural course of things, monarchy was permitted by the people; it was nevertheless so properly tempered, that the smallest en­croachment upon their claims, the least vio­lation of their privileges, was opposed with vigour, and the King who dared to counte­nance such proceedings, or meanly plead his prerogative as an excuse for his oppression, was instantly deemed an enemy to the state, a traitor to the commonwealth, and branded with the opprobrious epithet of dastardly tyrant. When one of these miscreants intox­icated with lofty ideas of monarchial power, and not content to be looked on only as the first magistrate in the kingdom, presumed of his own accord to levy taxes, and increase instead of lessen public grievances, then, Sir, did our ancestors reduce this huge Leviathan, they made the Lion crouch, and forced from his unweildy paw, that every memorable char­ter, which ought to be the loud boast of every true born Englishman. Sensible of the ac­quisition, and careful for their posterity, our great progenitors, taught, by rueful experi­ence, that truth seldom dwells in palaces, cared not to trust the word of future monarchs; but wisely exacted on oath, that they should hold their crown by the tenure of a strict ad­herence to MAGNA CHARTA ONLY.

Among your other idle amusements, Sir, it is possible, you may have read the history of a family, who, by every tie of blood, suc­cession, or hereditary right, deserved to wear the [...] of royalty, yet fascinated by the charm of arbitrary sway, they plunged the nation into [...] discord; till oppressed beyond all bearing, [...] people, at length, resumed their lawful power, and with one patriotic blow, saved their sinking country from ine­vitable ruin. The heat [...] party, however, soon subsiding, British dignity roaming for safety, in a foreign land, was a [...], which touched the breasts of Englishmen [...] that compassion, for which they are so justly [...]. The people, therefore, exercised the christian virtue of forgiveness; buried their various wrongs in silent oblivion; and, with many an endearing mark of tenderness, in­vited over the descendants of a man, who however well qualified for the domestic pur­poses of knitting garters, fabricating buttons, saluting his lady, or dondling his children to sleep by the drone of a princely lullaby, had yet none of the requisites necessary in a King of England.

Charles the first, Sir, was chaste, timid, weak, pious; and shewed if possible, as great an attachment to his wife, as you do filial affection for your very amiable mother. His son, the second Charles, was abandoned, li­centious, and totally devoid of principle:— It is therefore quite needless to add, that he was casual ancestor to your admited friend the present Duke of Grafton.

In short, Sir, every branch of the Stuart race, displayed such a love for absolute rule; delighted so much in an extension of prero­gative; that the abdication of that priest-rid­den poltroon, James the second, only saved churchmen the trouble of making him a saint; or the nation the formal ceremony and expence of chopping off his empty head, in a royal manner. The mal-practices of that Jesuitical family, ended at last, in their total extirmination, paved, Sir, the way for the promotion, and astonishing elevation, of the house of Hanover, to the throne of these [...].

The short reign of George the first, scarcely afforded us an opportunity of know­ing with precision, the man's real character. He was a perfect stranger to the manners and genius, and the disposition of the English. But, when able to stammer our language, perceiving in the nation, a prodigious aversion at being governed by a foreigner; he dis­covered wisdom sufficient, to wish himself quietly reinstated again in his own Electorate.

Our late monarch, wielded the sceptre with the spirit of a soldier; acted from himself, opposed with great vigour, rebellions, that shook the fabric of our constitution; and died replete with honours and with age.

Now, Sir, indulge me, whilst I take a transient view of your most piteous reign. Scarcely had you pronounced the lesson taught you by a Scotish chieftan;—no sooner was the word BRITON sounded in our ears;— than we perceived, Sir, your mind strongly tainted with every Highland notion, the des­picable ^* Caledonian could infuse. You stirred the very dregs of northern nobility to find a favourite, with whom to share the em­pire. Lord Bute, from obscurity's obscurest corner was summoned to bask himself at court, as a worm crawls forth from putre­faction, cherished by the sun's enlivening rays. Disgusted at the upstart insolence of such a mushroom, your antient nobles blushed Sir, for a man too weak to govern kingdoms; too obstinate to be advised; and to little versed in human nature to be capable of distinguish­ing real merit. What therefore, most illus­trious Sir, was the powerful reason for this undue preference? what but some bewitching Syren, an utter enemy to Briton's welfare, could have infatuated your untutored mind, or thus have rivetted your affections, upon a creature, in the shape of a man, possessed of every qualification, but intrinsic worth: If this all crafty Laird, be endowed with any thing like abilities, they are, I will be an­swerable, altogether corporeal; and therefore entirely unknown, to every person, unless a certain lady near St. James's;—who much, it seems, delights in such mysterious charms. From this indissoluble, this jejune attach­ment, however, as from their real source and fountain, flow all the divided streams of in­felicity, that speedily will deluge a land, de­voted by your headstrong weakness, to certain devastation. To make room for the exal­tation of this insidious minion, the sacred ties of friendship were dissolved; former obliga­tions were totally forgotten; relations, who presumed to remonstrate, were treated with cold indifference; and even gratitude, huma­nity's brightest ornament, was, with the re­volution's firmest friends, banished far distant from your royal habitation.

Think Sir! brighten up your faculties! and but for a moment think of the dismal state, into which, by this precipitate unwary step, you throw Great-Britain! deprived of all assistance from men able to guide the com­plicated machine of government;—distracted [...] gave our enemies fresh vigour;— until mo [...] [...] despised abroad, a glorious and successful war, served by your fa­vourite's mismanagent, only to render us more compleatly ridiculous

You know Sir, or it is now high time you was informed, that both the nations interest and honour were basely sacrificed to the sor­did avarice of some ravenous harpies, who, for the sake of gold, most chearfully would extirminate the whole human race. John Ayliff's best friend, the vulture-minded Lord Holland; his Grace of Bedford, the weavers guardian angel; the universally de­tested Laird of Bute; together with his joyous buxom dowager of Canton-House; these, Sir, were the blessed group, who sold to France, a peace the most superlatively infa­mous, that ever disgraced the annals of En­glish story Whether, you Sir, influenced by their persuasion hastened the treaty, is a question you alone are able to decide.

What followed the cession of hostilities, I scarcely need relate. Murmurs, discontents, accusations, and motions for impeachments, were answered by Scotch addresses, ragamuffin panegyrists, prostitute citizens, and votes of courts sycophants, and by the resignation of a raw boned pri [...]e—any thing—but minister.

Even during such a peace, have the arts been assiduously cultivated? Hath Science reared her dejected head? Has all due en­couragement been given to men of illustrious merit? Lord Bute, indeed, affected to be thought a Mec [...]enas, a distinguished patron of literature. As a proof of the extreme re­finement of his taste, he made a Scotch rene­gade parson, his principal confident; delega­ted to the quack hill, who pretends to length­en human life by a leaf of sage, the care of Kew gardens; pensioned that veteran self-important Jacobite Sh [...]bbeare, alias Cinna; and gave the man who wiped the cob-webs from his musty books, a seat in parliament— Whilst you, Sir, have been ravished with in­chanting harmony; exalted beyond the limits of humanity, by the graces of Pianissimo; and absorbed the various beauties of painting, building, or collecting RAREE SHOWS.

When his Lairdship was driven from the public theatre of life, he deputed certain en­gines to continue his pious work, of reducing us to an abject state of slavery. The friends of liberty pursued him, Sir, with success, worried him through all his haunts. He sheltered himself like another ROGER ^*, un­der the foldings of a royal hoop-petticoat: and when forced to fly for safety to his cater­cousin the Pretender, you, Sir, was command­ed, by a certain female, to commence his champion, and brave his cause, against such as should call in question his PARTS, his pa­triotism, or his honesty. Accordingly, Sir, you have been indefatigable in pursuing with rigour, the author of an harmless paper, meer­ly on account of his enmity to Lord Bute. Your time might, methinks, have been em­ployed to much better advantage. Your chris­tian piety, Sir, should alone have taught you to forgive an injury: but your rank and sta­tion called for a nobleness of soul, entirely exempt from, and far superior to resentment— an abject passion, calculated only for sordid base-born minds. The firmness, however, of a man has before now totally defeated the merciless cruelty of an abstemious, chaste, vertuous, sovereign.—It is true, Sir, we real­ly believe your disposition so well inclined, at any rate, to peace, that there is no injury, public or private, you would not much soon­er sustain than commence open hostilities. If, for example, Don Iuan Fernandez was, with Spanish gravity, to kick your royal breech—your mother's leave must first be asked, before you dare return the gross affront. This, Sir, I call an excellence, as it displays the filial milky softness of your most amiable nature to an imperious woman, therefore, we solely attribute, the various despicable stratagems you have, at different times, been [...]ced to countenance with your sanction. To glut her [...]ming vengeance, the sinews of government, often have been strained beyond their usual tone. Parliaments, Sir, ought to be the guardians of our liberties. When we are legally represented, the House of Com­mons is the sacred magazine, wherein are deposited British privileges and immunities;— curtailed of which, existence becomes a bur­den, and a curse. A French writer, Sir, called Montesquieu, pronounces it impossible for this kingdom ever to be undone, unless by the corruption of its senators.

The present parliament, Sir,—Britons I perceive your indignation rise! Friends and fellow-countrymen, I entreat your pardon, for this hasty slip of my unguarded pen! the motley mixture at Westminster, I mean, is a self-created Junto, the majority of whom under the favour, Sir, of your illustrious au­spices, are daily violating those rights purcha­sed by the blood, the treasure, and the manly fortitude, of our gallant forefathers. Think you I venture beyond the limits of decency? For God's sake, Sir, by what name am I to call a meeting, which assumes to itself the right of judicature, determines upon incapa­citation, and directs its own existence upon the total ruin of our most hallowed laws? that it is degenerated from its orginal insti­tution is a plain matter of fact.

That in obedience to a lascivious widow's nod, a person was expelled, because obnoxi­ous in her sight—this is a truth, all Europe, who laughs at our puppet-show petticoat mi­nistry, can amply testify: and yet, Sir, the pains the Carlton-house crew, headed by a vixen who is all pure Scotch below the mid­dle, and quite German about the brains— the fatigues, I say Sir, these wretches have undergone to banish from their counsels, e­very person of worth or honour, are in reali­ty, not to be compared with the steps they have pursued, to people a chapel with a con­gregation, quite of their own complexion.

Sooner than suffer their schemes to prove abortive, murders were committed, and the parties who gloried in the ministerial slaugh­ter, pardoned by your clemency. Much im­position has your good-nature suffered!— During your reign, to cut a throat with im­punity, the hardy assassin needs but to have a prostitute sister, and circumstances, which greatly alleviate his guilt, are instantly disco­vered by a sharp sighted court minion, who has a fellow feeling in the case. Your ac­quiesing, Sir, in such complicated villainy, must, I should imagine, lessen the high-flown opinion, we are taught to conceive about your pious virtues.

In short, great Sir, were your eyes but couched, clearly would you perceive that your people are enslaved. You would see yourself grossly deceived, cajoled, bamboozled, and imposed upon: You would discover, that the nation is in a ferment; that factions, fo­mented by court parasites, gather strength; and that your very throne is so besprinkled with innocent blood, as to tender it utterly impossible, for any thing but a general sacri­fice of the whole banditti of a ministry, to wash out the stains.

If then, thou best of private men, you re­gard with an eye of paternal tenderness, your own offspring! If you wish well to this once happy island! call forth, Sir, for God's sake! call forth, your magnanimity! sum­mons all your resolution! shake off the slum­bers of domestic indolence, nor longer, let a wanton woman's wayward will, desto [...]y our chartered freedom!

Forgive me, Sir, thus presuming to advise: but hard is the condition of princes. As gamesters play upon the foibles of those whom they intend to plunder; so courtiers, for sel­fish ends, pour their delicious poison into a monarch's ears. Trust not, Sir, to their de­lusions. Listen to the faithful voice of your undone people, they speak a language you are bound to hear. From them you need not fear deception.—In compliance therefore, with their requests, rid yourself of this ab­horred administration, as you would shake from your mantle, crawling vermin offensive to your sight. Restore the rights of free election. Execute strict justice upon each public plunderer. Spare not, through filial tenderness, even a Mother; when the nation's wrongs so loudly call for satisfaction. Let sterling merit be sufficient introduction to your presence. Build your now tottering empire upon a solid basis. Reign in our hearts. Act with the dignity of a man;—nor borrow consequence from crowns. Be mindful, that you are born, Sir, for deeds far more exalted, than barely propagating the species, or excelling in mechanics. And, as nature deals much in revolutions, wear always one truth very near your heart. A single vote transfered three mighty kingdoms. Some short time hence, it is possible, A RESOLUTE MAJORITY OF MILIONS, may, from the topmost pinacle of great­ness, hurl headlong AN INCORRIGIBLE M—; and send him to the book of suffer­ings to learn, that all power is derived from, and lodged in the people only; and that Englishmen will never long tamely submit to MINISTERIAL SLAVERY, OR PETTI­COAT JURISDICTION.