e would,
instead of writing against Popery, write for it; all the trumpery
titled--he will not call them great again--would then be for him, and
their masters the radicals, with their hosts of newspapers, would be for
him, more especially if he would commence maligning the society whose
colours he had once on his hat--a society which, as the priest says in
the text, is one of the very few Protestant institutions for which the
Popish Church entertains any fear, and consequently respect, as it
respects nothing which it does not fear. The writer said that certain
'rulers' would never forgive him for having been connected with that
society; he went perhaps too far in saying 'never.' It is probable that
they would take him into favour on one condition, which is, that he
should turn his pen and his voice against that society; such a mark 'of a
better way of thinking,' would perhaps induce them to give him a
government, nearly as good as that which they gave to a certain ancient
radical fox at the intercession of his radical friends (who were bound to
keep him from the pauper's kennel), after he had promised to foam, bark,
and snarl at corruption no more; he might even entertain hopes of
succeeding, nay of superseding, the ancient creature in his government;
but even were he as badly off as he is well off, he would do no such
thing. He would rather exist on crusts and water; he has often done so,
and been happy; nay, he would rather starve than be a rogue--for even the
feeling of starvation is happiness compared with what he feels who knows
himself to be a rogue, provided he has any feeling at all. What is the
use of a mitre or a knighthood to a man who has betrayed his principles?
What is the use of a gilt collar, nay, even of a pair of scarlet
breeches, to a fox who has lost his tail? Oh! the horror which haunts
the mind of the fox who has lost his tail; and with reason, for his very
mate loathes him, and more especially if, like himself, she has lost her
brush. Oh! the horror which haunts the mind of the two-legged rogue who
has parted with his principles, or those which he professed--for what?
We'll suppose a government. What's the use of a government, if, the next
day after you have received it, you are obliged for very shame to scurry
off to it with the hoot of every honest man sounding in your ears?

'Lightly liar leaped away and ran.'

PIERS PLOWMAN