ACT. I.

WELL! since it is so, [...] must acquiesce, and trust in Heaven for relief in Heaven, who is witness of all those vile transactions.—Internal Enemies, without number plotting the ruin of their Country;—their native County; which has given them being, subsistance and pro­tection:—This is treason of the blackest dye!—It is real­ly melancholy to reflect on our present dangers, more especially since there is so little probability, that we shall ever be extricated from them!—It seems that we are desti­tute of Men of principle and stability:—Men, that in de­fiance of every hazard and difficulty, dare boldly engage in an attempt to support the Laws, and to scourge those impudent offenders, who have so long transgressed with impunity.—This most scandalous illicit trade!—The gau­dy glare of British finery, has allured the People into a fatal torpor and security:—They foolishly imagine, that those insignificant fripperies of English voluptuousness, will amply compensate the loss of every civil and religious privilege;—or rather, they reflect not at all, else they would shudder at the Idea of bartering their wealth, their liberty, their honor, their conscience, and their Country, [Page 8] for those cob-web vanities, the furniture of idleness and luxury:— Britain never hit upon such a promising prospect for obtaining their point as this nefarious commerce;— deceit and treachery have been ineffectual;—insidious proposals for an accommodation have proved abortive;— the enchanting glitter of their darling gold, lost it's be­witching power, and produced no effect;—sire and sword, with all their attendant horrors, served no other purpose, but to exhibit to the admiring World, the patriotic virtue of America's Sons:—The British Court were sensible that the reduction of this Country, could not be effected, unless the morals of it's inhabitants were first destroyed, and their principles debased, by the introduction of luxury and dissipation among them, from whence effeminacy, and an unfitness for the field might proceed:—The desired point is already nearly obtained:—And can nothing be done to prevent it's completion?—I fear nothing to ef­fect.—There is such an inconsistency in the conduct of mankind!—Such a wavering in sentiments and actions! —Such a predominancy of self, that many of the most noi­sy Patriots, are either Whigs or Tories, as the circumstances of the times suit themselves, or their particular connecti­ons!—There is no dependence upon any one:—It is im­possible to know who can be trusted and confided in:— He, therefore, that undertakes for his country at this juncture, must do it alone and unsupported;—he must expect to sacrifice ease, health, interest, character, and perhaps life; in the unequal struggle, and in the end will have no other consolation, but the approbation of his own conscience:—But I am resolved to make the experiment, to make one adventurous effort, for the relief of my Coun­try, let the event be fortunate or adverse;—at the worst, I shall have the consolation to reflect, that I had tried; and that every event which may succeed, must be consi­dered as fatalities, which I could neither avoid nor pre­vent:—It is more eligible, to perish in an arduous strug­gle for Liberty, than to be quiet and passive, 'till my Country is overthrown.

I expect one or two Gentlemen here to night, to con­sult on the subject:—I think they are faithful and such [Page 9] as I can rely on:—But yet, upon recollection, I'll not trust them;—I'll trust no man living with any secret of importance:—I've been deceived so often, that it can be repeated no more:—I'll converse with them, hear their opinions, and then act agreeable to my own:—But—

Gentlemen, you never were more welco [...] to me, than at this time:—Pray take seats, and let us have a confi­dential review of the present state of our affairs.

That is the design of our visit, and I dare say it will be very agreeable to all present.

It must be acknowledged, that the necessity of our meeting, is a very humiliating Idea;—that the Autho­rity of the State, should be so destitute of power and effi­ciency, that three private persons, in an obscure corner, should be called upon, by the urgency of affairs, to take the regulation of a great Empire into their hands:—But so it is, my friends, and let us discharge the important trust, with faithfulness to ourselves, and Country.

We shall all, Mr. Frankly, have reason to thank you, for proposing this interview, and making the first move for this consultation:—There is a strange supine­ness, a surprising inattention, among all ranks of People, to the glorious cause, which at first animated them, with such a noble emulation, and distinguished them from the ordinary race of Patriots.

Yes, my friend, they have so far lost their first spirit, that instead of relieving their Country in it's present danger, I fear that an attempt for that purpose, would meet with a universal disapprobation, and be called a dis­turbing of the public peace: But this, instead of frighten­ing us from our pursuit, ought to be one of the most power­ful motives, to engage us therein, with the greater resolu­tion and ardour.

True, Sir, the fewer our friends, the more ne­cessity for our gallant and spirited exertions.

I hope we shall never be deterred from the exe­cution of our duty, by such a Bugbear as popular cla­mour: [Page 10] —What! when our Country is on the verge of de­struction, and just ready to tumble from the horrid preci­pice; shall we, careless and supine, sit still, with folded hands, and not extend a finger to it's relief; because, for­sooth, we are afraid that somebody or other, will insult, or laugh at us for it?—the bare Idea is disgraceful to hu­manity:—I despise the dastardly soul, who could be ca­pable of such meanness?

And even here, my friends, great wisdom and prudence is necessary:—We must defeat the plots of our foes, without displeasing our friends, when it can possibly be avoided; for this will hurt the cause, we are endea­vouring [...]o support.

Nothing can be more just than this:—Great discretion must be used, lest by an ill placed zeal, and an imprudent ardour, we defeat our own purposes.

I readily grant, it will be of importance, to shew a proper regard, and deference, to our real friends; yet let no man be terrified, for fear our measures should not please them, so well as we could wish;—I have always been a Bigot to the public voice; but in this State, where is the importance of it?—When we have named a few, a very few, faithful friends, we have done; Tories, Tra­ders, and the whole herd of timorous half toryfied Whigs, are worth not the least notice:—I still assert, that if we are to be so happy, as to adopt a plan against the illicit trade, the man that hesitates, and fails to execute his part, through fear that his character might suffer, deserves to have his name branded with eternal infamy, and sink in­to endless oblivion and obscurity, never to see the light any more, unless it be to go

My friend's zeal and spirit pleases me:—The mode of conduct, which we may resolve upon, must cer­tainly be carried into execution, in defiance of every op­position:—But while we determine to act with the great­est decision and spirit, we must remember to deliberate with the utmost caution and circumspection.

[Page 11]

Let us attend to the object of our meeting:— Let us open our minds with the greatest freedom:—I am impatient to know the result of our councils.

It is really time to enter upon the business in hand:—Our introductory conversation has been suffici­ently lengthy.—Mr. Frankly, we are all attention to you.

Britain having waged a cruel and unnatural war against us, which, in the utmost malice of her evil genius, she has been carrying on, for almost six years, with all her force:—Fire and sword, bribery and seducti­on are among the weapons, that she has employed against us:—But finding that these proved ineffectual, to subju­gate a brave and determined People, she now has recourse to artifice, hoping to effect by this, what her arms and gold, were unable to do.—General Robertson of New-York, has given a general invitation, to all the inhabitants of these States, to come thither and trade:—Nothing could be more pleasing to the Tories, and those of the Whigs, who were willing to sell their Country, as Judas did his Saviour, for hard money:—They have accepted the fatal invitation, and the illicit trade, through their hands, is briskly carried on, and rapidly increases every day.—This ruinous and destructive commerce, spills the vital blood of the Country, by stripping it of it's two most important articles, cash and provisions; while the wants of the enemy, are thereby immediately supplied:—But this is not the worst of it; those goods which are intro­duced into the Country, in this way, are more destructive than Stygian poison;—dressed out in a sumptuous garb, we forget the great concerns of our Country, and sink into a state of langour and security, more fatal to the bo­dy politic, than a Lethargy is to the human:—Add to this, the breach of saith to our generous Ally, who might, with Justice, be offended at such an illiberal return, for his unaffected generosity:—This, Gentlemen, is our situ­ation!—These are the evils, under which we labour, and which demand our attention, and a spirited application of the proper remedies.

Gentlemen, the subject demands frankness;— our sentiments must not be disguised:—It appears, that a [Page 12] number of the meanest, and vilest of those, whom Satan claims as his own, are now gaining the highest pitch of affluence, in the plunder of their Country;—directed and assisted by all the subtilties of their Master, they have hi­therto proceeded with impunity, in defiance of every ef­fort to interrupt their career:—Must the vengeance of my Country continue forever to sleep?—Are our disasters arisen to such a pitch, that the torrent of destruction must inevitably overwhelm us?—Must the glorious Fa­bric, which we have so nobly reared, at the expence of so much blood and treasure, be destroyed to the founda­tions, by a sett of base mercenary wretches, whom if we should extirpate from the face of the Earth, Humanity it­self would give a smile of approbation?—No, my friends, it cannot, must not be!—Let us arouse from our supine­ness, and make those Parricides feel the weight of our animated exertions:—Our Authority, conniving at those execrable doings, I doubt, will afford us no aid, nor sup­port;—let us then proceed, without their knowledge or approbation, and with the resolution of Patriots, strike a blow, that may astonish the world:—Let us [...]a [...]m our­selves and our trusty friends, and proceed without delay, to the cursed repositories, of forbidden luxury, and there, by an unusual and unexpected manoevre, commit to the flames, every remnant of those treacherous allurements:— This will be acting to purpose;—this will give a fatal check to those detestable practices:—Many will join and assist us;—more will approve of the design, and give us their best wishes;—and none will condemn it, but those that are interested, whose objections our Muskets will readily answer.

I approve of your zeal, my friend, but not of your proposal:—The whole cause, and reason of those practices, which we complain of, is want of efficiency in our Laws; and their execution, would de attended with the accomplishment of all our desires:—What hinders our putting them in force?—They actually exist, with heir full Authority, and we are at perfect liberty to use them; and while this is the case, I fear it would be rash, and imprudent to act without them, in a matter of such [Page 13] consequence:—I would wish to do nothing inconsider­ately, nothing that might appear rash and hasty, or that might give umbrage to our friends.

I am much pleased with what you offer, Mr. Frankly,—you have convinced me, that a project, which lay in my mind, would be improper to adopt: I had pro­posed, in Idea, to seize all suspected Persons, goods, and provisions, and retain them secure, 'till a legal trial could be ob [...]ained:—But now I see, that if the Law will not support, and the Authority assist us, our efforts will be vain and futile, and instead of profiting the Country, will bring shame, and disgrace upon ourselves.

I will not urge the proposal, Gentlemen, but ac­quiesce in your Judgment:—Yet I must confess, that I have a poor opinion of the Laws, if they are to be execu­ted, by the present Authority.

The Laws of this State, I believe, Gentlemen, are sufficient, if duly executed, to remedy every evil we labour under▪—But, as Mr. Frankly has observed, they are not put in force;—they lie dormant and useless;—not the least respect is paid them;—and the hardy villain, continues in the open practice, of every enormity, fearless of punishment, and in defiance of the hand of Justice:— An undisturbed course of Law, would make the guilty culprits tremble:—To the attainment of this end, let a number of resolute citizens, associate together, under the strictest bonds of fidelity;—let them take those neglected Laws in their hands, and see them executed, with a for­titude that no difficulties can dismay:—if they can be united in council, and vigilant, and decisive in conduct, we have every thing to hope, from such an attempt.

I fear your proposal, Mr. Standwell, though a good one, is impracticable:—The objection again recurs, what can be done without the concurrence of the Autho­rity?

If the Authority do not readily assist us, we will oblige them;—they dare not refuse their concurrence, when we have the Laws in our hands;—if they dare,— let infamy be their portion!

[Page 14]

But where shall we find a sufficient number of Men to join us;—Men possessed of fidelity secresy and inflexible constancy?

It will not be a little disgraceful to the Whigs, if they should be found, on tryal, to be more deficient in the practice of those virtues, than the faithless and un­principled Tories:—However abandoned they may be, they can't be accused of betraying one another, divulging secrets of importance, or deserting their cause; for they are as true, and as persevering in their plans, as the Devils are in wickedness.

I doubt they will fail you, if you depend upon them, for great numbers of the pretended Whigs, are To­ries in disguise, and the most numerous part of the rest, are neither Whigs, nor Tories from principle; but either, just as suits their passions, or interests.

Though your representation, be just, as I fear it is, yet I am confident, that as many as one faithful and trusty Man, can be found in each parish, throughout the coast, who will be ready, and willing to engage in the af­fair; and such a number, I believe, will be sufficient for the purpose:—let these be selected, and instructed in their several parts, and I do not doubt but we shall effectu­ally succeed.

Your plan is a good one,—I have no objections against it; yet, I fear, you are a little too sanguine in your expectations, of it's answering the desired purpose:— Suppose the Magistrates assist you, and you find a suffici­ent number of true Men;—What will be the consequence of a general seizure?—You may be assured, that the Traders keep but a trifle on hand;—no sooner is a cargo landed, but it is put into fifty hands, and distributed through every part of the Country:—It would therefore, puzzle a Conjuror, to discover enough to pay the expence of seizure;—and if we once give the alarm, they will immediately adopt new measures, which may elude all future enquiries:—We shall therefore, defeat our own intentions if we don't strike the first blow, at the root.

Then you don't approve of the execution of the Laws, and the seizing of illicit goods?

[Page 15]

I do;—I think it a necessary step; but at the same time, I think that this alone is not sufficient:—I say, that the Ax must be laid to the root of the tree:—The Guards on the Coast, must be enlarged, and regulated on a better establishment:—The civil Law must be support­ed by the Martial, and Justice administered with more decision and dispatch; else our puny efforts will be suc­ceeded by insults, more intollerable than death.

I am happy, my friend, to find that your sen­timents exactly coincide with mine:—Something more must be done, than barely seizing a few articles of illicit goods, if we mean to rescue our Country, from the ra­venous Jaws of those Harpies:—But won't it be difficult for us to effect those important matters?

Not at all, Sir:—We are of more importance, in the political scale, than perhaps you imagine;—by a plan concerted with wisdom, and executed with prudence and spirit, a few obscure persons may produce unthought of revolutions in a State:—This is sufficiently manifested, by those destructives plots, and machinations of the To­ries, which we are met on purpose to counterplot and de­feat:—Let us only be as wise and active for our own safety, as they be for our destruction, and all will be se­cure.

We should be glad, Sir, to be made acquainted with the particular mode, you would wish to adopt, for the accomplishment of those desirable ends.

Let each of us exert the whole of our influence with our friends, both by writing and conversation:—Let us urge upon them, the exigency of our affairs, and the necessity of a speedy remedy;—let us not leave them, 'till an enumeration of facts, supported by the most co­gent arguments, shall oblige them to be of our opinion:— Thus in a short time, the popular voice will be on our side, which the Assembly will hardly fail to notice.

By making our designs in this manner public, we give our Enemies every opportunity to oppose and defeat them.

That's no objection against the measure:— when I am going to hang a Man, I chuse to inform him of it, that he may prepare for his sate.

[Page 16]

True, you ought so to do;—but if you are wise, you will wait 'till you have him in your power.

We will act more secretly then:—Let us inform, in a confidential manner, those Members of the Council, and Assembly, with whom we are acquainted, of our eminent dangers, and of the only means which can afford relief:—A few friends can be desired to support us:—A matter which equally concerns them, will be listened to with attention:—A number of General officers in the Army, might also be made acquainted with our distress;— they would do us most important service, both at Con­gress and Assembly:—it might likewise, be a mean of procuring a detachment from the continental Line, to be sent into our neighbourhood, which is a circumstance that I judge to be of the utmost consequence.

Gentlemen, I am perfectly pleased with all parts of this last proposal;—I have listened to it, with the utmost attention, and satisfaction, and must beg leave to observe, that I had formed the out lines of the same plan, before this meeting, and had communicated it to one of the first Men in the State, who highly approved of it, and assured me of his support and assistance.

I have no doubt of it's success, if we are not defi­cient on our part;—the utmost vigilance is required.

Have you nothing further to suggest, that would be advantageous to our main design?

Nothing, Sir;—I believe the two plans which have been mentioned, are the only ones we can adopt, since my first proposal is discarded.

I shall continue to object against that, 'till all others have been tried; but if every legal method fails, I shall be willing to have recourse to that in the last resort; for having begun, I shall not desist, 'till my Country is safe, or 'till I am frustrated of so desirable a good, by the failure of every possible remedy.

Having determined upon the plans, let us be agreed as to their execution:—Mr. Fearless has given us sufficient instruction, concerning his own proposal, it on­ly remains, that we take Mr. Frankly's directions con­cerning the other;—I suppose him to be much better ac­acquainted [Page 17] with the subject of the illicit trade, than either of us.

Without doubt he is;—his industry and oppor­tunities have greatly exceeded ours:—Mr. Frankly, we shall receive your commands with pleasure.

It will be necessary, that you continue to make the most deligent and exact enquiry, into the state of the illicit trade;—by whom it is regulated and conducted;— at what times, and places the goods are landed from the Island; where, and in what manner they are secreted;— you must discover their private repositories;—the time, and manner of their conveyance from place to place;— what the chief remittances to the Island are, with every other circumstance that concerns the business:—To ef­fect this, we must inviolably keep our own counsel;— our bosoms must be as impenetrable as the grave;—no­thing must transpire as we regard the salvation of our Country;—and after we have obtained the necessary in­formation, we must make a general seizure of all British goods, as near as may be, at the same hour, that the great­est possible blow, may be struck at once; because, as has been already observed, as soon as they are alarmed, they will immediately change their measures; the detection of which, will be then more difficult than they be now.

We shall comply with all your requisitions, with the utmost readiness, and have only to desire you to ap­point the time of seizure.

That I may be better able to observe, and chuse that, which will be the most proper, you will communi­cate to me, from time to time, all intelligence of impor­tance, which you may obtain.

We shall take every opportunity to answer your desires;—our discoveries will be always at your service.

I have likewise to observe, that I may probably stand in need of your assistance, at particular times, to convey intelligence to confidential friends, at a distance; and perhaps for some other purposes, not proper to name.

You need not be explicit;—we can depend up­on your fidelity, and shall be ready to attend your com­mands at all hours.

[Page 18]

Permit me, my friends, before we part, to re­peat my injunctions of secresy upon you:—Let every thing we say, or do, be deemed inviolably sacred, an [...] not to be divulged, without incurring the guilt of sacriledge: —I wish you may feel that by failing in this point, we trifle with our lives, and all that is, or ought to be dear, to Men and Christians.

There is the greatest propriety in your caution: —But I hope events will prove, that to us it was needless.

I am much obliged to you, Gentlemen, for your friendly communication, on this most interesting subject:—I hope we shall have the satisfaction ere long, to congratulate each other, upon the success of our mea­sures.

I have the most animating expectation, that suc­cess will attend their execution;—we have concerted them with unanimity, and I dare engage for all present, that each one's part, will be punctually performed:— Mr. Standwell shall we walk?

This interview has given me great satisfaction;—I feel an agreeable calmness on my mind, to reflect, that my Country is not yet intirely destitute of supporters;—she will maintain her Freedom, in spite of infernal malice, which is exerted to overthrow it;—If only ten faithful Men can be found, all is safe!

ACT II.

I WISH, You, you'd contrive some scheme to get rid of this plaguy state money;— it's falling all the while, and will be good for nothing bimeby: We shall certainly be ruin'd, You, and come to the town;—I'd g [...]t off such rotten stuff some way or rother, if I got nothing [...]or't, You.

Dont be feart, Wife, afore you're hurt:—We shall do well enough, never fear: I shan't keep no more on't than I owe the collector for rates; and I shall keep it from him, as long as I can, to be sure:—and I wish'twou'd n't be good for nothing when he gets it;—for my part, I won't take no more on't, under four for one; —it will be ten for one afore I pay the collector;—and so much we gain clear, Wife, d'y' see, besides helping to kill the money, and, when the Country's conquer'd, and the times settled, I'll tell [...] King, all I've done, and then he'll give me the best Rebel farm in the parish;— don't you think so, Wife?

There may be something in th [...], You;— but won't the collector make you, make up the sinkings; —I'm sure I've heard such a thing talkt on.

Don't fear, Wife; they may perhaps ha' men­tioned such a thing,—but they han't done it yet, as I've heard on, and they won't I don't think; for sometimes the Rebels an't always the cunningest, to find out the best plans for themselves, and when they have, they durst n't execute 'em, for fear the People will rise, and oppose'em; —as I guess wou'd be the case, in this case; for all the Loyals wou'd oppose it certainly, and I can tell you, Wife, for your comfort, that Squire Slipcoat told me t'other day, we were the strongest party hereabouts: But if they do their worst, I can e'en pay the collector when he calls, and so I shall lose nothing that way neither.

[Page 20]

Why yes you will, You, you'll lose the farm you talkt on, if you don't help to spoil the money, or hurt the Country some other way.

Wife, don't you be concern'd;—I do do a good deal slily;—'tan't but a few days ago, I gin Tom Ketchum, two hard dollars, to go to the Island to bring off counter­feit money.

Why I never heard o'that afore, You; I wonder you did n't tell me on't;—that was a good thing in you, You;—keep adoing so, and we shall have a farm, as sure as a Gun.

Why I've done a great deal more than that, Wife; —three years ago, I laid in with a dozen young fellows, to go and join the Regulars, and I gin 'em a hard dollar apiece, for bounty; and I s'pose my name was sent to the King for't;—he's heard all about me afore now, I'll warrant ye, Wife.

Why, You, I'm glad on't with all my heart;—I use to be afraid, you was so softly a Man, you wou'd n't do nothing, and when the Reg'lars come, I al­ways tho't they'd take you for a Whig, and send you to the West-Indies, and cumfristricate your farm, for you;— but I see you do do something, and I wish you'd do ten times as much again; I want to have you git three or four, or six or seven, or a dozen farms;—'twou'd n't be too much for us, You.

I know that as well as you do, Wife;—but you don't consider the times are crooked as the Devil;—if one don't mind his hits, he'll get snubb'd as quick as you'd say Jack Robbinson;—I'd better be call'd a half Whig, whilst the times last, if I do lose a little by it; than to be hang'd for a Tory, and so lose all.

But ay, if I was a Man, I wou'd n't mind that, I'd warrant ye;—it's just as I told you, you're afraid on 'em, and durst n't stir, and do nothing.

No I an't, Wife, that an't the thing; I say 'tis better for the King, and me too, to keep doing a little for him a great while, than to get s [...]apt up by, trying to do more.

[Page 21]

Yes▪ but I know you could do more, and be safe too, if you wan't afraid:—What'll you do when you're drafted one of these days;—I look for't every day when it'll come,—and if you should go, or hire a Man, 'twill be all up with you, if the King should hear on't; then where's all your farms, You?

I've got a plan for that too;—when cousin Jo was at our house t'other night from the Island, I sent word to son Billy, that I was going to clamming next Monday, and he must come over in a Boat, or send some­body, and take me, and carry me to the Island, then they'd parole me, and send me home, and then you see, I shan't be drafted no more, for they don't draft pri [...]'ners.

Why railly, You, I believe that's a good plan;—I shou'd n't ha'tho't o'that:—I begin to think you do do something;—but I wish you'd do a great deal more, you cou'd I know if you wan't scart to death;—if you'd only take two or three of the leading Men in the Parish, and send 'em to the Island, the danger'd be over then, and we cou'd do what we pleas'd;—besides, such a thing'd be worth telling on;—you'd be call'd a bold Man amongst 'em, and one that fear'd nothing;—you'd stand a chance to be sent for to the Island, and made a serjeant on, be­cause you'd got courage, they'd say;—if I only wore breeches, I'd see the Rebels all shot, afore I'd bear what you do, I'd warrant 'em;—all the money we can rap and rend, goes to pay rates, so that we are so poor, we can't do nothing, if we'd never so good a mind to:—As true as I live, and breathe, I'd send to Clinton and get a Regi­ment of Reg'lars, to come here, and then the day'd be our own;—'twould be their turn to be hang'd, and go to Newgate;—that wou'd be something like a tanzy;—we shou'd live like folks then;—every body knows, that we can't never take no comfort, as long as them devilish Rebels an't hang'd, and nothing cou'd ever make me feel better, than to see them villains, with iron russles on, ago­ing to Newgate, or the Gallows;—I'd have them to know if I cou'd have my will, I'd neither eat nor drink, 'till'twas done.

I wish Mother'd hold her tongue, and not keep 'ternally talking 'bout such things;—don't you think, [Page 22] that I and Father, don't know what we're about?—it don't signify, Mother, for you always to be finding fault with our plans, and telling what you'd do;—I tell you what, if you'd your will only three days, we shou'd all swing fort:—You don't know nothing about it.

I was just agoing to speak, John, and say just as you've said; for Mr. Frankly told me about sun down, that he meant to come and see us to night, and I'm afraid he's been at the door, and heard all Mother's said.

Ay, Bett, if he han't, 'tis ten to one, if some other Whig or other, han't been a eyedropping, and heard all Mother's nonsense, and gone and told the General on us all, and we shall be haul'd before a court martial for't, and every Devil of us'll be hang'd, I tell you as quick as a minute.

Take me before a court martial, d'y' say?—They'd better be hang'd than touch me;—I'd fill their faces full of this hasty pudding, boiling hot, I'd war­rant 'em.

Oh! oh! damn it, Mother, take care of your pudding;—you've burnt me to death.

John, leave your squawling! be still I say!—I tell you, Wife, you talk like a silly woman, as you be;— do you think you'd scare a continental Soldier, with hasty pudding?—they've more courage than that, I'll warrant ye;—you cou'd n't please the hungry dogs better than by throwing hasty pudding at 'em, ha! ha! ha!—I fancy they'd tackle in with a kettle of it, with more courage than they wou'd with the Reg'lars, and empty it faster than you cou'd with your ladle.

Well rot 'em, I don't believe they'll ever come;—but if they shou'd take us, and send us to New­gate, we shall have the more a coming from the King, for Mr. Plunket says, the King's a godly King, and always pays well, those who suffer for him, and that's my com­fort.

Ay, Wife, the King loves Justice, as well as mercy, as the poor wretches, who are fighting against him, will soon find to their sorrow;—they little think [Page 23] what a dreadful day of reckoning is coming for 'em; and it may be, as I hope 'tis, nigh at hand, when they'll have judgment without mercy.

Yes, You, that will be something like a voice in shame, when they're all dying in a heap, and no notice taken on't;—yet as'ral all, I shou'd be a'most tempted to pity 'em, if they had n't us'd us so bad, and bro't it all upon themselves;—and more than all that, when the Rebels are all kill'd and cut to pieces, our trou­bles will all be over and gone, and that'll be a joyful day to us:— Betty, you'd better draw some cyder;—let's drink, and be merry a little afore Mr. Frankly comes, for I guess he'll be here pretty soon, and spoil all our sun.

you shall go and get the cyder:—You know I lookt a'ter the hogs, and shut up the geese to night, besides milking all the cows alone.

I don't care for that, sauciness;—Mother bid you go, and you shall go, or I'll make you;—go along, I say

Get away;—I'll tell Father on you.

John, you brute, let her alone;—it is a marvel­lous thing to me, that you must undertake family govern­ment, when your Mother, and I are by;—I'll teach you how to behave better than this, I'll warrant ye.

He an't to blame, You, she deserved it;—she did n't go when I bid her.

Wife, mind your business, and hold your tongue; Betty, sit down;— John, be easy, and go and draw the cyder.

You're an old provoking fellow;—you'd spoil fifty children if we had 'em;—you've no more go­vernment than a goose, and won't let me have none.

Yes, yes, Mother, that's just like you, your al­ways—

Whist! be still!—who's there?

Your Neighbour Frankly.

Oh! very well:—Walk in.

I hope I find you, and your family well, neigh­bour Gibber.

[Page 24]

Yes thank ye, able to move;—You left your'n well did n't ye?

Yes Sir, we were all indifferently well, only excepting the common infirmities of life.

Ay, if nothing else ails ye, you do as well as the best on us all;—so you must n't complain.

That's very true;—we ought by no means to camplain, when in the worst circumstances, and much less, when in the best;—we always suffer less than we deserve.

And so do all other Rebels.

I observed, Mr. Gibber, that when I knocked at your door, you enquired who was there, before you bid me come in; what can be the reason of this, Sir;— you did not do so formerly.

I tell you what, Neighbour Frankly, it's clipping times;—there's so many devili [...]h Tories about, we don't know when we're safe;—for my part I'm a'most afraid to sleep a nights.

The hottest Tory in America afraid of Tories;—a very pretty tale to deceive the world with:— Though the times are critical, and dangers surround on every side, yet I'm not in the least concerned to rest in my own house;—no one dare disturb my quiet there.

You've more courage than I, or you'd be afraid on 'em;—Have you any news from abroad?

Yes, Sir, there are various reports in circula­tion;—some of them I hope are true, because they are favourable to the States; but for the same reason, they'll be disagreeable to you.

Why so?—How can good news not be agreeable to me?

Why, to speak plain, I've always supposed you to be a Tory at heart.

How?—I a Tory?—you don't mean as you say, I hope.

I do, Sir,—I really think you're a Tory.

I wont be call'd a Tory, that's pos;

call me a Tory again if you dare.

[Page 25]

Come, come, Mr. Gibber, I could not have imagined, that calling you a Tory, would have disturbed you; for I supposed you to be really one, and would not have been ashamed to acknowledge your attachments.

I tell you what, Neighbour Frankly, I never love to quarrel with people, especially Neighbours; but af'ral that, I'll not be call'd a Tory by any Man living;—why, Neighbour Frankly, I scorn a Tory as much as you do.

Sit down, Mr. Gibber, I'll not offend you with the name; for I believe our difference consists wholly in this, that you understand one thing by it, and I another.

Very well, Neighbour, I'll overlook it for this time; —but you must take care how you affront me again;— you see I'm a man of spirit, and if you provoke me again, I may do something, not so clever among Neighbours:— Wife, an't supp [...]r almost ready?— John, where's the cy­der you went to draw so long ago?

It stands on the table.

Bring it here

Neighbour Frank­ly, my humble service to you;—I'm glad to see you at my house, with all my heart.

I am much obliged to you, Sir.

I'm astonished, Mr. Gibber;—What has disturbed you so suddenly?—You act like one beside himself.

If you knew how devilishly I was plagu'd, you wou'd n't ask [...]hat's the matter;—I told this rascal above an hour ago, to go and draw a pot of cyder, and instead of minding on me, he has fill'd it out of the swill barrel: —an't this intolerable, Neighbour Frankly?

Ay, ay, it's good enough for you, old fel­low;—you wou'd n't follow my advice, and now you see it's turn'd out just as I told you;—you've been right­ly serv'd;—you may learn to mind me next time an' you will.

Yes, yes, Wife, you must always put in your ear to help the matter:—I wish you'd hold your tongue, [Page 26] and not stand up for such a booby, when folks are here, you'll make us ridiculous all over the Parish.

I don't care how soon all the world knows it, no not I;—but you'd need to be concern'd;—you'll be ridiculous with a witness to't.

Come, Mrs Gibber, I believe it is best to drop the dispute for this time:—I think you are a very hap­py couple; these little fallings out, they say, are a sign of great mutual Love, and it will not be advantageous to turn the tokens of Love, into occasions of hate.

Neighbour Frankly, you're a very kind man;— I don't know what the world wou'd come to, if 'twan't for such men as you;—You see, Wife, Mr. Frankly blam'd you, because he tho't you deserv'd it most.

No reflections now I entreat, good Mr. Gibber; —let all rest for the present, that I may enjoy the plea­sure of your company while I stay.

Very well, Sir, I'll obey you, if my Wife will let me.

'Twou'd be comical indeed, if I wou'd n't let you let me alone.

Come no more on't;— John, now let's see if we can have a little cyder.

Ay that's clever;—I tho't you promis'd not to quarrel wi [...]h me again, and now you go to rip up the very bottom on't all.

No more words, Wife,—I'll draw it myself.

Are you not a little out of the way, [...] to make the old Gentleman go and draw cyder himself, after he had order'd his Son?— Don't you think it will be of bad consequence to the Boy?

I out of the way?—No indeed; —he's a wilful old fool:—I told Bett to go first, and the old dog took it into his pate to quarrel with me about it, and order John to go;—so you see he's all to blame a­bout it;—I tho't afore you did n't understand it;—so don't blame me now if I let him take the—

I guess now, Neighbour Frankly, we've got some cyder, and since we've had so much fuss about it already, let's drink round without any more compliments.

Father! Father! do see our John, he's drunk it every bit up, and han't gin me a drop on't.

Pox on the cyder;— Betty hold your tongue, and go and draw some yourself if you want:—Come, Wife, an't supper a'most ready;—I believe, in my soul, your pudding is burnt to, we've been talking so long:—Come, let Betty set the table, and do you take up supper.

You enquired after news, Mr. Gibber, when I first came in, but before I had time to relate it, the con­versation changed.

That's well tho't on;—I shou'd be mighty glad to hear it.

In the first place, it is reported, that Burgoyne is coming over with twenty thousand men, to join Clin­ton at New-York.

Do you say so?—It surprises me;—you don't believe it I hope:—If it is true the Country'll be conquer'd this summer, I'm afraid.

Nothing of that, Sir;—we have trapped him once already, and having learned how it's done, we can do it again more easily;—so that if he comes, he will only march through the Country under guard again:— but they say also, that Greene has intirely defeated Corn­wallis;—killed two thirds of his army, and made the rest prisoners;—of course the southern States, are once more freed, from the rapine of British tyranny.

You tell sur­prising news indeed, Mr. Frankly:—

It is so good I can hardly believe it:—

Well!

I always said, that Britain ne­ver wou'd conquer America;—I never tho't they took [Page 28] the right methods for't;—if I'd been to've advis'd 'em, I'm sure I cou'd have done better than they have.

If he could have executed his desires I believe him. You know, Mr. Gibber, very surprising events often unfold in the dispensations of Providence, such as no Eye could foresee, nor Arm prevent:—I am firmly perswaded that America has always been the pecu­liar care of Heaven.

Wife, an't supper a'most ready?

Yes 'tis ready this minute.

Won't you drink again before supper, Neigh­bour Frankly?

I thank you, Sir, it will be needless.

I'm glad on't, for I hate to draw it my­self and God knows I can't make none of my folks go.

Come, You, sit down, sit down, Neigh­bour Frankly, and eat a bit of hasty pudding and molasses; —'tis poor stuff to ask folks to eat;—I'm asham'd on't, and if I'd known of any body's being here, I shou'd ha' try'd to've got something better:—My Husband always'll have hasty pudding for supper, and if he'd let me have some tea to drink myself, and treat my friends, he might e'en split his guts with it an' he wou'd.

Why, Mrs. Gibber, don't your Husband pro­vide you with tea, and such small affairs, as every body knows Women must have?

Don't mind her, Neighbour Frankly, she's only trying to pick another quarrel with me, and make you a witness of it:—There never was a Woman better provided for, with every thing the world affords, than my Wife always is; and get she's 'tarnally grumbling, kaze she don't wear the breeches, as she says.

You old liar!—You know you han't got me a pound of tea, nor sugar, nor molasses, nor no such thing, since I lay in with Molly, and then all you got for me, was two ounces of rice.

Ay, who lies now?—You said I had n't got you no molasses since you lay in;—if that's true who got the molasses we're eating?

Well, I don' [...] care; if you have got some molasses, you han't got nothing else, I know.

[Page 29]

A queer so [...] of family this! They're all perfect in their parts.

Come, lay to, Neighbour Frankly;—hasty pud­ding is slippery stuff, and if you don't mind, you won't get your part on't.

Let there be no trouble on my account;—it is very good, and there is plenty of it.

I believe our John will split his guts;—he eats as if he had n't eat a bit this month.

You're only afraid, Bett, you shan't get your belly full.

Children, let eating stop your mouths;— there's nothing to he heard but your gabble.

Was n't you telling some news, just as we sat down to supper? I shou'd be glad to hear it out now.

I have nothing more, Mr. Gibber, except it is, that Gibraltar surrendered at discretion, to the Spanish arms, on the 16th of December last.

This astonishes me more than any thing you've told me!

Come, we've done supper;

much good may't do us;—I must go out a few minutes.

I wonder, Mrs. Gibber, where you got that curious piece of linen;—you did not make it, surely.

No Sir, we did n't make it, and I don't know where my Husband got it;—do you know Betty?

Yes, he got it at Mr. Flutter's shop, for three shillings hard money a yard.

Our Betty's a plaguy fool.

Right from the Island:—Have you heard, Ma'm, that Mr. Flutter had all his goods seized yesterday?

I'm sure that was hard;—the man paid honestly for 'em, I believe:— Betty, has Goody Chin sent home the warming pan? I wou'd n't go to bed in a cold bed another night, for nothing.

No she han't.

Then I must a'ter it.

Well, John, what think you, shall we be con­quered this summer?

[Page 30]

I'm afraid we shall.

What makes you think so, John?

So many drafts, and so much rates to pay; we must give up.

Not at all, John, without we destroy ourselves.

We shan't do that I guess;—we shall do what we can to save us.

I believe him now

But this Long-Island trade, John, will ruin us, if we can't stop it.

I don't know nothing about that;—I guess there an't much on't done.

But the Tories, John.

There an't so many, I don't believe, as folks talks on.

But you know they are very spiteful and mis­chievous.

I never see it:—They'm very good Neighbours.

But don't you think they'd kill folks if they could, John.

Kill folks?—No indeed;—What kill folks for nothing and be hang'd for't;—that's a pretty story in­deed;—there's no such fools I hope:—

He begins to come a little too close upon me; he'll catch me bime­by; I'll be missing.

What will you do for lawn and guaze, Betty, now Mr. Flutter's goods are seized?

Oh! we can get some, somewhere else.

Then you have more strings to your bow than one.

Yes to be sure

How long before your Dadda and Mamma will be back?

Not afore morning, I believe, for they're gone to bed.

Gone to bed?—I thought they would be back in a few minutes

They're certainly gone to bed.

Then I'll go home, I'll not keep you up.— Good night, Miss.

Good night, Sir.

[Page 31]

Tories every one, rank Tories.

I'm glad he's gone; now I can let in my spark;—he's come right from the Island, and John says he's been wait­ing for me, this whole hour in the hen roost; and I durst n't, for the world, let him be seen by any of the Rebels, for they'd hang him as quick as they'd hang a Gammon: —Our John'll be hung too, if he don't go off:—I'll go and tell him this minute;—I'd rather give sixpence than have him hang'd;—not that I care so much about him; but it wou'd break up all our plans.

The cursed Rebel is gone then:

Who's there?

A true and trusty friend.

A true and trusty friend:—Ay that's the coun­tersign:—'Tis one of our friends, from the Island;—the house is now clear, and 'tis past eleven;

I'll let him in this minute.

Mr. Gibber, your humble servant;—I hope I'm safe.

Safe?—Ay that you be;—but I tell you what, Sir, we live in a damn'd world;—the Rebels act like be­witcht of late;—we can't have a friend to visit us from the Island, but he's smelt out, and then away he goes to Newgate, or the Gallows:—But you need not be scart at my house;—you're as safe as a thief in a mill, whilst you stay here;—I've contriv'd a sly hole for you, and if any body appears, do you slip in there, and the Devil can't find you.

[Page 32]

You are very careful for us, Mr. Gibber;—I be­lieve you are a stanch loyalist, and if ever I get back again to New-York, I will report your zeal to the General.

Do my, good friend, and tell him all about, how much I do, and how much I suffer in the cause of my King.

But the point is, how I shall ever get there again; for the Boat I come over in, was fired upon three times, before we cou'd land; and the cursed dogs pickt one lusty fellow out of her;—and now by your account, it is still more difficult to get back▪ for our boat is return'd, and I suppose there's not [...] on all the coast, but what has a picket guard about it:—I'm really afraid the crows will pick my bones here.

Don't you fear;—we'll contrive some scheme to get you back again safe:—Whilst at my house, as I told you, you're safe enough;—so you may be as merry as you please:—Don't you want a dram?

I think I do:—I've been above an hour in your hen roost, and it is a good deal cold to night; a dram will warm my stomach, and prevent my taking cold, which would be a damn'd affair indeed; for if I shou'd cough in your hole, and any of the Rebels in the house; —dam me, I'd rather a sixty gun ship was down my throat;—I pledge you Sir.

Take hold, I shan't drink none myself.

Ay this is good old Ja­maica;—it does one's soul good;—an't Betty at home to night?

She was at home just now, and's not far out of the way, for she knew of your being at the door, and longs very much to see you;—I've often heard her pity the poor young men in New-York, who cou'd n't git a pretty girl to play with, twice in a year.

Oddsbodikins!

I must have a little fun with her to night, if they gibbit me in the morn­ing.

You must n't be long about it, for you know we're to consult to night about those things, that you sent word by cousin Jo about.

Dear Miss Betty, how do you do?—the sight of you revives me more than a double-bowl of syllabub.

Sir, I'm mighty glad to see you;—but I'm afraid they'll hang you;—how durst you come amongst the Rebels?

I'll go and leave you;—I see you want to be alone:—you'll be ready to attend at two o'clock.

Depend upon't, Sir, I shall be ready.

It's devilish clever, Betty, to get along side of a pretty girl, after all the fatigues and dangers of a long campaign.

I wonder in my soul, how 'tis you do so long without any girls;—for my part, I shou'd run mad, if I hadn't a spark, but once in six months.

I don't hardly know myself how 'tis we do;—we fare bad enough I'm sure;—we're forc'd to suffer a great deal before we can get a girl there, and after we've had one, we're ten times worse off than we was before.

Yes, yes, I understand you;—I've seen a child cry for an apple, and a'ter he'd got a mouthful on't, he was fifty times more bewitcht a'ter it, than he was before.

She's made a good mistake for me, she thinks I'm in great need.—Well, Betty, you know we've but little time; we must improve it well.

You may be sure, I sha'nt be backward adoing my part:—It's a good while now, since I've had a spark that suited me:—a'most all the young men in our parts, have gone to New-York, except a few Rebels;—so I'm obliged to take up with them in a pinch.

Why, Betty, you don't let a damn'd Rebel touch you I hope—I wish you hadn't told me on't this half hour, for I shan't have half so good a stomach for you for't;—I fear they've spoilt you.

Don't blame me, my dear—make it your own case:—wou'dn't you play a little with a pretty girl at New-York, if she was a Rebel, rather than have none? —Well that was all that ever I did in my life.

[Page 34]

I don't know but I shou'd, Betty;—but I'd rather have you than a cart load of 'em:—You're in truth a sweet girl, a very angel.

I always lov'd good sparks, and I think you're the best that ever I had in my life.

Why the girls us'd to call me a good spark in former days, and I believe I han't lost my skill yet;—I guess I can please 'em as well as ever:—Seems to me it's a little too light here;—I'm afraid some Rebel or other will peep in, and see us, and then I'm gone, as sleek as a whistle;—can't we go into a dark room?—I'm perswad­ed I shou'd be as good again a spark there.

There's no other room in the house, Sir, that will do, only the bed-room where I sleep.

So much the better, my sweetest honey;—don't let us stay a moment, but go there this.

But we mustn't go to bed;—if we shou'd, I'm afraid they'd come, and catch you, before you cou'd put on your cloaths.

Don't mind that now, my honeysuckle;—our time is short, let us be expeditious.

ACT III.

FASTEN all the doors in a minute, John, and let's have all the lights put out.

Bu [...] how will the Loyals get in, now the doors are all lockt?

They must be help [...] in at the back window, John; —you know it won't be safe for us to have the doors on the latch;—we shou'd be in danger every minute of being ca [...]cht.

But you don't mean to trust to the doors being lockt, I hope,—they can be broke down at a jerk, and then I wou'dn't give that

for your [...].

No, no, John, we are better soldiers than that comes to;—here's a string, which I shall tie to my finger, and it goes down through a hole in the floor, and out at the backside of the house into the garden, where you mu [...]t lye hid, and give notice of any body's coming, by pulling the string.

That's a good contrivance for your old pate;— I wonder who told you on't.

Leave off being saucy, or I'll lather your hide well, you blockhead:—go and call the Spy this minute.

He needn't be disturbed yet;—nobody an't come;—and he, and our Betty want to lye together, all the time they can get.

I want to talk with him a little afore the rest come;—so go along I say.

I'm much mistaken, if we don't contrive some plan to night, to be reveng'd on th [...]se devilish Rebels, that have had their heads so long, and have abus'd me so much, [Page 36] and I cou'dn't help it;—Nobody knows, and never will know, how much I've undergone for my King;—but I trust a day of relief is at hand, when I shall receive full pay, for all I've suffered from 'em:—I'm a tenderhearted Man, and don't love to see my Neighbours in distress;— but I shan't pity 'em [...]ow, it is the fruit of their own do­ings:—I shou'd be afraid they'd kill me, if I shou'd go and set their houses afire; but it wou'd do my soul good, to see 'em in flames, and they, poor wretches, in 'em.

Take your station, John, in the currant bushes, at the cor­ner of the Garden, and if any body's a coming pull the string;—mind, and keep yourself hid.

It's two o'clock devilish quick, Mr. Gibber;— it seems to me, 'tan't ten minutes, since Betty and I went to bed:—But what did you call me up for?—There's no­body come.

I wanted to talk with you a little, about some things, first:—So I call'd you up afore the time a little.

That's pretty indeed;—I wish you'd been further off;—you've disturbed us in the midst of our sun.

Come, come, I tho't you'd been a better Loyal, than not to be willing to deny yourself a few minutes pleasure, for the sake of promoting the good of the cause.

Well! I'll say no more about it then;—let us proceed on business:—Our situation is dangerous;—our time short;—our business important;—we must be vi­gilent, and expeditious.

I wanted to know, before our friends come, what they say in New-York about the cause;—you know there, ten times as well as we do here, how things are like to go in the end:—Do they think they can ever subdue the Rebels?

It is not, Sir, the business I was sent upon, to tell you what they can do there; but to tell you what you can, and must do here.

No but if they can't do nothing there, we can't do nothing here:—If we shou'd only attempt such a [Page 37] thing, without we cou'd be supported, we shou'd all be hung before we'd begun, and there'd be an end on't.

There will be very little danger of being hung, for doing what is proposed;—you can't suppose we de­sire to endanger your lives.

No, I s'pose you don't mean to;—but how can we do any thing without?

Why you know the Rebels have stopt the smug­gling trade;—our first business will be to set that agoing again.

Well that's proper enough to be done:—but what else have you got for us to do?

We must hit upon some plan for the Loyalists in the Country, to assist the Associators when they come over.

Ay, ay, that'll be a dangerous scheme I'll war­rant ye▪—I wou'dn't give a copper for any Man's head that lifted a finger in that plan:—you're be conjur'd to set such a thing on foot among us;—we're all dead men if you don't withdraw that motion.

You're a man of fine courage upon my word.

Oh! Sir, take care of yourself,—somebody's coming.

Who's there?

A friend.

What business have you to disturb me so late in the night?

Arise, friend Gibber, arise and let me in.

Arise, friend, arise; ay, that's the countersign; —'tis the Reverend Mr. Plunket's voice;—they are the true Loyals, who were to meet here to night.

Come, Mr. Gibber, no delay.

Have patience, I'll let you in directly.

Come, Sir, you may come out of your hole, there's nobody but friends;—

Gentlemen, I'm very glad to see you here.

[Page 38]

Stay a bit, Mr. G [...]bber, an't you mistaken a little? —If you an't you've got a good pair of owls eyes of your own, to see so well in the dark.

No matter, Ge [...]tlemen, for that small mistake;— a slip of the tongue don't always break the neck;—I'm as sorry as any body that we're oblig'd to sit in the dark: Can't you find chairs?

We shou'd pass very well for conjurors if we cou'd, when I don't believe it was ever darker in Egypt.

Here, Gentlemen, sit down, and let's proceed on business.

Ay, with all expedition;—it's very uncomforta­ble to sit here in the cold and dark, and the fear of being trapan'd makes my blood run cold.

My friend [...], we must bear up under every thing that befals us, with Christian fortitude, and constancy; and generously expose ourselves to every danger, in the execution of this charitable business; and if we fail of an adequate reward in this world, we may rest assur'd, we shall not in the n [...]xt.

But my thinks, Sir, if I was sure of no other pay but what I shall get there, I'd not risk my neck for't, I'd warran [...].

The justic [...] of our cause is so conspicuous, that we cannot [...] of [...] an ample recompence, even in this world:—The King is on our side, my friends, who will both pay and pro [...]ect us.

We needn't multiply words about the Justice of our cause;—we're all sati [...]fied in that point:—And as to pay, I want no other than to see the damn'd Rebels once humbled:—If I cou'd but only see their houses in flames, and they themselves, with b [...]yonets at their breasts, beg­ging for mercy 'twou'd make me feel better, than to be King of all the World.

That I'm afraid is more than can be bro't about at present:—The R [...]bels are plaguy stubborn fellow [...], and won't be bro't to a [...]k for mercy, without many a hard blow.

Ay, you're a half Whig;—but 'tan't best for you to talk discouragingly; if you do, I'll be in your cho [...]s in a [...].

[Page 39]

Don't be angry, I only tell you the truth, that you may be prepar'd for't;—and I shou'd think, Gentle­men, that 'tan't best to say much about killing, and burn­ing 'till we're stronger;—this Long-Island trade briskly carried on, does the business fast enough, so that in a little time we may be ready for every thing that can happen.

You may be sure, Flutter will stand up for the trade;—He gets money so, without fighting for't;—he cares for little else besides his purse; you may always find him, where there's the least fighting, and the most mo­ney:—I tell you plainly, Gentlemen, I'm not very fond of such fellows;—give me the Man that will fight, and let the money go to the Devil:—I'll lay you a wager, that this same Flutter, tho' he's so zealous now, will be a Whig again, as soon as he has well lined his pockets.

Enough on that head, Mr. Fidfaddy;—there's no necessity for all f [...]ghting, and Mr. Flutter acts his part well:—But let us [...] the Gentleman from New-York:—You have undoubtedly, Sir, information of im­portance to communicate;—and in the first place, what are the politics of the day.

Gen [...]emen, however disagre [...]able it may be, yet you may rest a [...]sur'd, that the British have laid aside all tho'ts of subduing this Country by force of arms;—the Rebels are so numerous and warlike, and have such pow­erful Allies, and plentiful resourses, that 'tis impossible ever to conquer them:—You see the British troops are defeated in all parts;—every expedition miscarries;— their arms a [...]e disgrac'd;—and their power shamefully circumscribed to limits, which are every day growing narrower:—This is the daily topic of conversation of all ranks at New-York.

You relate such strange things, that it will give my faith a severe tryal to credit it;—What? The migh­ty Britain not subdue the ignorant undisciplined rabble of America!—Astonishing! I won't believe a word of it.

I'm persuaded, Mr. Plunket, the man speaks the truth;—I've known him from a child, and he never was catcht in a lie in all his life;—his story makes my belly ach; but then I must believe him af'ral.

[Page 40]

I fancy you may venture to believe me this once,— for I am here by General Clinton's orders, and if I fail to execute them, he'll not fail to execute me:—I shou'd cut a fine figure to return to his Excellency, and tell him I could do no business, because nobody would credit me;—such horrid trifling in affairs of such importance, would entirely spoil the fine character you have there, and wou'd go near to cost me my head, besides breaking up the best plan that ever was laid.

We must hear him, I believe then;—but if you say any thing, beside the truth, the whole truth, and no­thing but the truth, you will not only suffer immediate death, but will be eternally damned afterwards.

Truly, I never understood before, that Mr. Plun­ket was a civil Magistrate, to administer oaths, and to pronounce sentence of death; and a Pope, to send folks to the Devil; yet as great a novelty as it is, I find it's true:—But leaving this, I return to the point:—I am sensible, Gentlemen, that what I've related has a melan­choly aspect:—I wish things were otherwise;—but so matters are, and they can't be help'd;—we can only make the best of our situation, by rendering that of our enemies as distressing as possible:—This will be effected in part by plundering as much of their property as we are able, and by destroying the rest.

But how can we, under our present circum­stances, attempt any such thing, with safety to ourselves: —without that support, which you say the King can't afford us, we shou'd soon lose our lives, if we begun to plunder and burn.

Don't fear for your safety, Mr. Plunket;—every thing that can possibly happen has been attended to and provided against;—you have parts to act, in the execu­tion of which, you will be perfectly safe:—to bring de­vastation and distress upon the Country they can't con­quer, is now the policy of Britain;—Arnold is at the head of the plan, and a good fellow he is;—he'll not stop his sword for the shrieks of the Virgin, nor the cries of the infant;—his malice against the Country is now rais'd to so high a pitch, that were it in his power, he [Page 41] wou'd spread flames and death, from one end of the Con­tinent to the other.

To see him fulfil his warmest desires, would give me the sincerest pleasure;—my heart is intirely with his in this matter;—but how can this be done, without an armed force sufficient to disperse the Rebels.

It cannot be expected, that we shall do all at once; —we must do every thing we can, and leave the rest to Providence:—The first thing to be done, is to circulate as much counterfeit money as possible:—Money, Gen­tlemen, is the sinews of war;—it is a hinge on which all their movements turn;—and we all know that America has none, but are sensible at the same time that their paper currency, has been a substitute for it, and has an­swered all the purposes of solid coin:—Now to destroy the credit of this, is to baffle them in their only resource.

The paper money is so sunk already, that I think it lost time to trouble ourselves any further about that.

The credit of it, though low, is not sufficiently gone;—it passes at the exchange as current as silver; and while that is the case, it much embarrasses the conduct­ing of the illicit trade;—a most important consideration; since the express purpose of the trade is, to drain as much as possible of hard money, and provisions, from the Country; by which their affairs will be embarrassed;— their armies will want supplies;—and their resistance will be feeble:—Now it's evident, that while their cur­rency has a circulation, the People will insist upon the Merchant's taking it, or they won't trade;—in either way Government will be disappointed in their designs.

You're right;—all paper money must be spoilt, and nothing will spoil it so well, as putting out so much counterfeit, as will make every body afraid on't all.

That's the design, Mr. Gibber, and you must be the man to receive and distribute it;—you, and your friends, must be indefatigable in conveying it into cir­culation, as speedily as po [...]sible.

But the question is first, how I shall git it?— For I'll be hang'd, if I get kill'd a gitting on't.

[Page 42]

That's my business, Mr. Gibber;—you will receive the money free of trouble and danger;—it will be your part to circulate it, cautiously and faithfully.

Never fear me, I'll scatter it fast enough, I'll war­rant ye;—I love to live well, you know;—I can buy some cattle with it, and other articles;—spend a great deal more at taverns, and in good company;—give some away to children and Negroes;—contrive now and then to lose a bundle;—but above all, I can give it away, fas­ter than you can make it at New-York.

I depend, Mr. Gibber, on your fidelity;—and I have it in command from the General, to promise you a reward beyond your utmost wishes, if you conduct agree­able to our expectations.

I shall do the best I can, for this scheme will please my Wife beyond all bounds.

Having dispatched the money, let us attend, in the next place, to the trade, and how it may be conduct­ed most successfully.

This, I fancy, is a most intricate business;— it will require our utmost penetration and ingenuity, to guard it on all sides against interruption;—the Rebels are all alert on this subject, and seem to be determined to disconcert every measure; and they have been fortunate enough to succeed in their first attempt, so as to render a total change of the mode absolutely necessary.

True, Mr. Plunket, I've experienced what you say to my sorrow;—I've been intirely out of business, ever since my goods were seized; and every scheme to get any more has fail'd.

The coast is lined with guards all along shore, and the Sound is full of Boats and Privateers, so that I shou'd think it impossible ever to escape 'em all.

Yes, and there's that damn'd Frankly, and his Comrades, whom I dread more than all the guards;— a few dollars will make any centry be still, but money nor threats can't move them, I know.

It's all true, Gentlemen; but you must remember that every thing is known better at New-York, than it is here, and they are better able to find remedies for all dif­ficulties, [Page 43] which I can assure you is already done;—a plan is deeply laid, and in part executed, that will effectually restore the trade;—all that is wanted is a little assistance from you.

Every assistance you request, will most readily be afforded:—but I'm impatient to hear what this plan can be;—it must certainly be an ingenious one, to over­come so many obstacles, and at the s [...]me time, to be kept a secret from the eyes of the world:—to me indeed it appears little less than impossible.

Oh! Sir, nothing can be more natural and easy; 'tis no more than setting on foot, a plundering scheme to the Island, under a notion of retaliation:—Let a num­ber of Boats be equip'd, and property officer'd, and the business is done:—The Governor of Connecticut is old, and can easily be duped into measures, by their having a plausible appearance, that will ultimately end in the ruin of the State.

This is truly a deep laid plan, and I believe it will succeed, if Men subtle and faithful enough, can be found to execute it.

That's the easiest part of the whole:—The bare Idea of hard money, is so bewitching to Men, who have so long been destitute of it, that the consideration of a trifling sum in prospect, will induce the hottest Whig in the State, to abandon his principles, desert the cause of his Country, and join heartily with us, in subverting it's Independency.

But can it be conceal'd from the prying eyes of the Populace?

I've no fear on that head:—Retaliation is a very popular notion in the Country now, and the pleasure ari­sing from it's being put in practice, will overbalance eve­ry consequence.

I'm exceedingly pleas'd with the design:—I find that there's wiser heads in the world than mine:— but won't it be difficult to preserve, among those who car­ry it on, an union and good understanding, so necessary to it's success?—From the nature of the service, they will be rivals of interest, as well as honour, whence jea­lousies [Page 44] and disputes, will be apt to arise, which will prove fatal to the plan, if not to all concerned.

Measures are concerted to prevent all this:—no one is to be employ'd to command a Boat in this service, but such as we shall chuse, from among those, who are in appearance the most furious, and noisy, in the cause of their Country, but in reallity, would readily sell it for hard cash;—and if any of a different character should unfortunately get a commission, reports must be circula­ted to his disadvantage, and you must never leave tradu­cing him, 'till he is either turned out, or quits the service: —Care must also be taken, to preserve the popular cla­mour in favour of retaliation, and plundering those goods, which, it must be said, are placed along the north shore of Long-Island, for a bait to the Connecticut People:—by these means the business will receive no check;—but if any insuperable difficulties should arise, the party that thinks himself aggrieved, must be satisfied from the King's treasury.

The whole is exquisite;—it charms my heart, to think of the important, and salutary consequences that must ensue:—But is not there a deficiency, observable in the plan?—You can transport as many goods as you please, across the Sound, and receive hard money there­for, but you say nothing about provisions, and that's a capital point.

If we can exchange our goods for hard money, our principal end is obtained;—it being impossible for them to exist without it.—I would just observe here, that it is happy for us, in the execution of this project, that the Americans have yet to learn, that parting with staple commodities, and specie, for foreign articles of Luxury, introduces a gay and gaudy poverty:—Yet so great is their infatuation, through love of finery;—so agreeable are tinsel'd ornaments to their natural genius, that a man would part with his working cattle, for a velvet suit, and a woman her milch cow, for a si [...]k gown, tho' there­by they deprive themselves of their only means of sub­sistance:—This disposition properly encouraged, will assist us greatly;—we can lull them asleep, by our finery▪ [Page 45] and make them forget the great concerns of their Coun­try:—You never knew a peasant, that distinguished him­self as a soldier, in a velvet coat.

True, Sir;—but the Country will still be in a flourishing condition, tho' destitute of money, if they have plenty of provisions; while our friends at New-York are suffering for want of them.

Nothing will be easier than to convey over all the provisions that can be procured:—They must be previ­ously deposited in some secret, and unguarded place on the shore, from whence they will be taken in the night, by a boat which set sail for the Island the day before, and return'd under cover of the darkness.

No further objection can be made to the plan: —It is, I think, brought to perfection.

I have yet to mention one thing more, which will very greatly advance the trade.

Pray what is that?

It is making a sham use of hostilities.

Pray how, and to what purpose?

Let one of the Traders go to the Island, and agree with the Merchants upon time and place:—After his re­turn, he wi [...]l sit out a vessel for the West-Indies, or else­where; but before he gets out of the Sound, he must be taken, and carried to New-York, according to agreement: —Returning from his short captiv [...]ty, apparently in the greatest poverty and distress, he will sit out a Boat, or small Privateer, to get satisfaction for his late loss, and he will be sure to capture some small craft, loaded with goods, to the full amount of his vessel and cargo:—But this is a tender point:—I need not be explicit, for those, who act upon this plan, must first go to the Island, where they will receive every direction;—the Boatmen will be greatly assistant, and all may be helpful to one another.

What wisdom and foresight in the Authors of such plans!

I will just hint one thing more, to convince you, that every engine is at work, to accomplish this business: —Let all masters of vessels, and boats employ'd by us, have a written protection, from the Commander in Chief, [Page 46] that if they should happen to be really taken, by some of his Majesty's cruizers, that were ignorant of the plan, their vessels and cargoes might be return'd to them again without fraud or emb [...]zzlement:—This plan has this important advantage, that all Rebels, who may happen to be on board such captur'd vessels, may be retained pri­soners of war, while all true Loyalists, will be immedi­ately discharged, with all their proper [...]y, unhurt.

This part is pleasing above all others:—here's a proper distinction between friends and enemies.

It is expected, Gentlemen, that you will all be assiduous, in carrying into execution, th [...]se plans for re­newing the trade, tho' the greatest share of trouble will fall upon Mr. Flutter, who will go with me to the Island, and procure such papers, and instructions, as may be ne­cessary:—You've no objections, Mr. Flutter?

I shall serve my King, in this way with the ut­most readiness; for being out of business, my family, in their expensive way of living, will soon bring me to po­verty.

You may depend, Sir, upon the strenuous ex­ertions of each of us:—But have you any thing more to communicate?

I have, and most important matters too;—you no doubt have heard of the association of the Refugees on the Island.

We've heard of it; but are entirely ignorant of it's design.

The design is very extensive;—they've a number of armed vessels and transpor [...]s, sufficient for defence, and conveyance across the Sound, to some of the sea port towns in this State, which is to be the seat of their operations;—they are to be supplied with arms, and am­munition from the public stores, but are to have no pay, nor provisions, but what they can get;—this will be a stimulus to them, to urge them on in quest of plunder:— They will be directed to seize, and bring off as much property as possible, and to burn and destroy the rest; and all persons of every age and sex, will be put to the [Page 47] sword without distinction, [...]cept perhaps a few, who may be preserved alive, from meer grace and favour.

I doubt this last will hurt their character, as it appears rather too cruel.

It is thought to be necessary, since it will intimi­date the Country, and strike it with a dread of their arms.

I fear you'll be mistaken here; for I've observ­ed that this Country is more apt to be enraged, than in­timidated at such treatment;—they'll all share the same fate themselves, I doubt.

They certainly expect it, if they fall into the ene­mies hands; but you may be assured they'll die to a man, rather than be taken;—it will be bloody work for the Rebels.

Well, I can only say, go on, and Heaven suc­ceed you.

The operations of this a [...]mament, will afford a happy asylum for our p [...]ecuted friends in the Country to [...]lee to, from the malice of their enemies.

Now I'm made for this world;—I've tho't in my soul I shou'd be hang'd a thousand times;—but now I shall be safe;—I won't be [...]eart to death no more.

But don't relax in the least, on this account;—be as cautious and vigilant as [...]ver;—you may be arrested and secured, before you can get under their protection: And besides, whilst you are here, you are much more ser­viceable to the cause, than you cou'd be there.

True, Sir, an open enemy is not so dangerous as a secret one;—this is the reason that Spies, by the Law of nations, are always executed, as soon as detected.

Ay, and the Rebels wou'd mutton me quick enough, if they knew of my being here; for I can do 'em more hurt in one night than I cou'd in ten years at New-York.

Your being catcht now, wou'd be of infinite damage to us;—let our business be concluded with all expedition, and do you make your escape to New-York, with the utmost speed:—but can't the Loyals in the Country, be assistant to the associated force in their ope­rations?

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Assistant?—Indeed Sir they will be;—so impor­tant a circumstance as that, could not be neglected:—To raise a body of troops in the Country, and assist them in getting to New-York, is one thing designed to be effected by the Association:—It's above two months now, since Clinton and Arnold, sent each a declaration into the Coun­try, offering full pardon and protection, to all who were willing to return to their allegiance.

These, Sir, we've seen, but have been doubtful of their effect.

The proposed effect could not fail to take place;— they were design'd, not to convert any of the adherents to Congress, but to revive the hearts of the true Loyalists, and convince them that they were not f [...]rgotten, and thus preparing the way, for the inlisting orders, which im­mediately followed.

Inlisting orders d'ye say?—You surprise me.

Yes!—'Tis now two months, since inlisting or­ders were sent into different parts of the Country, by trusty hands:—And I know it to be true, that above two thousand Men are already inlisted, who are all ready, at a moments warning, to act in concert with the associated forces.

Now I'm astonish'd!—Can it be true?—The world's now our own!—But how is it possible, that this could be compleated without a discovery?

When it was proposed, to raise this body of troops, in the Country, the proper officers were all picked ou [...]; and▪ together with the orders, was sent a promise of their commissions, upon their procuring the specified number of Men:—This made them vigilant and circumspect.

So far is good; but how cou'd the inlistments be concealed?

When any man, after seeing the orders, and knowing the conditions, was desirous of inlisting, he de­clared in the presence of two Men, who had previously engaged, that he accepted of the offers, and conditions, and was determined to comply with every requisition;— in confirmation of this, he then signed a b [...]ank paper, which was carefully convey'd to me at N [...]w-York.

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What a wise foresight was this?—The disco­very of a proper inlistment, would have been the death of all that had signed it.

We could not be ignorant of this; and therefore it was necessary to adopt a mode, that wou'd secure the inlisted from danger.

But how are these men to be collected, and sent off?

I was a going to tell you;—the first descent that will be made by the Associators, is fixed at about the mid­dle of April;—as many Men as possible must be in rea­diness by that time, from this State, that of New-York, and Massachusetts, and even as far as Vermont, whether inlistments are sent:—A few days before their approach, they will give you notice of the time;—this you will circulate to all friends, with the utmost expedi­tion:—Then immediately, you will prepare to collect yourselves with all diligence, at some suitable rendezvous, a reasonable distance from the water side, and so situate, if possible, as to have considerable settlements, on the nearest rout, from thence, to the place where the descent will be made, so that you can do the more mischief, in your march to join the Associators:—They will assist your collecting, by making a false alarm, a day or two before the time appointed, and at some distance from the place of action;—at the alarm numbers of you will appear zealous in the Country's cause, and march with the rest for it's defence, taking care to leave them at the first op­portunity, and immediately join your friends, at the ap­pointed rendezvous:—After the inhabitants of the Coun­try, are thus pretty generally drawn off, and the Loyalists collected, the true alarm will be given, by a heavy dis­charge of artillery:—You will then, suddenly rush from your ambuscade, and, with an unrelenting hand, spread ruin, destruction, and slaughter;—killing, without pity, every man, woman, and child;—making compleat havock of cattle, and all other stock;—and burning every house, and other building, that may be within your reach, while marching to join the associated force.

But is not this rather too cruel, Sir?—will not reason, and common sense, reproach us for barbarity?

[Page 50]

It is the intention of his most gracious Majesty, not only to impoverish, but to depopulate the Country, as fast as possible:—You may be assured, that the King is meditating a terrible vengeance, against those daring Re­bels, that refuse to submit to his righteous Authority:— The present design, I must confess, is unprecedented among civilized nations; but the enormities practised in this Country, are likewise unprecedented, and call aloud for unprecedented punishment:—His Majesty, therefore, determines, by the help of God, to extirpate them, by de­grees, from the face of the Earth, that all nations may tremble, when they see the dreadful consequences of a­waking the wrath of inexorable Britain:—And all that are assistant in accomplishing this desirable business, will not only save themselves from a swift destruction, but will merit applause from all good Men, and will receive a glo­rious reward from the King.

This is, this is, what I've always wisht for:—The Rebels deserve every thing, the King can do to 'em:— I've always told 'em they'd have it with a vengeance bime­by, but they only laught at me sor't; and now they may take what follows;—my thinks they will cut a fine figure, running a wild goose chase after the Loyal Refugees, at the same time that their houses are in flames at home, and their wives and children, with their throats cut:— But they shall have no pity from me, I'll warrant 'em.

Pity 'em?—No indeed!—They may die and be po [...]t, af'ral me;—'tis good enough for 'em;—they de­serve it all and more too;—they might ha' behav'd bet­ter an' they wou'd.

We need [...]'t carry the point any further, Gen­tleman; the case is very plain, that the exercise of pity towards them, at this critical juncture, will procure the ruin of ourselves, and our cause;—let us therefore, lay aside every unmanly passion, and forward this plan, all that lies in our power; the good consequences of which, can be proved from reason, and common sense, to out­weigh every other consideration.

Gentlemen, I am glad to see you so engaged in this plan;—your approbation is absolutely necessary to it's [Page 51] execution;—you can be of great service to those levies, by assisting them with your advice, and supplying them with necessaries:—I must just inform you, that Col. Lop­jaw has the principal hand, in conducting this affair; to him therefore you will apply for directions;—you will give full credit to all he shall say:—Don't forget the other plans.—By a little policy, the Rebels themselves, can be made subservient to our designs;—they have so many passions, prejudices, suspicions, and jealousies, that they can easily be set at swords points with each other, which will assist us greatly, by taking off the attention of the world from us:—Gentlemen, our business is ended.

Well, my dear Christian friends, let no man's heart fail him, in this great and important business;—let none of those, that have put their hands to the plough, look back;—but let us persevere to the end, doing what our hands find to do, with all our might, as for our lives: —And if there is any so inconsiderate, as to refuse doing his duty in this day of need, I shall only repeat these words of scripture to him, "Cursed is he that keepeth his hands from shedding blood."

Amen! Amen!

What we've so long, and earnestly desired is now com­ing to pass:—Those sons of darkness, who have with so much malice, plotted the ruin of others, will meet their fate at a time they little expect it.

ACT IV.

ACT V.