Enter LIEUTENANT O’CONNOR, disguised. Just. So, a tall — Efacks! what! has lost an eye? Rosy. Only a bruise he got in taking seven or eight highwayme… - Richard Brinsley Sheridan

The right honorable gentlemen is indebted to his memory for his jests, and to his imagination for his facts.

<small>THEY</small>, by a strange Frenzy driven, fight for Power, for Plunder, and extended Rule—<small>WE</small>, for our Country, our Altars, and our Homes.—<small>THEY</small> follow an <small>ADVENTURER</small>, whom they fear—and obey a Power which they hate—<small>WE</small> serve a Monarch whom we love—a God whom we adore...They call on us to barter all of Good we have inherited and proved, for the desperate Chance of Something better which they promise.—Be our plain Answer this: The Throne <small>WE</small> honour is the <small>PEOPLE'S CHOICE</small>—the Laws we reverence are our brave Fathers' Legacy—the Faith we follow teaches us to live in bonds of Charity with all Mankind, and die with Hope of Bliss beyond the Grave. Tell your Invaders this; and tell them too, we seek no Change; and, least of all, such Change as they would bring us.

The newspapers! Sir, they are the most villainous — licentious — abominable — infernal — Not that I ever read them — no — I make it a rule never to look into a newspaper.