You see, sir, that the nation is acquainted with the wretchedness of this present administration, that it feels the bad consequences of it, which will drive it at last to extremities. You may be the more assured of the truth of this, as discontent discovers itself in a public and alarming manner. You know all this, but you conceal it from the king, though you are the only man that converses with his Majesty, while access to the throne is denied to all the rest of his subjects. You, alone, can inform the king of the dangerous situation himself and his kingdom are in, and the inconceivable indifference wherewith the best and worthiest of his Majesty's subjects are treated. I hear that a certain kingdom (Norway) may soon become alienated: so that in a short time everything may be hopelessly lost, if the king continues to listen to such bad advice. You see, sir, how the department of foreign affairs is managed, and how, by the intrigues and incapacity of our great prime minister, who has the audacity to interfere, everything is confused, so that the name of the Danes is now a subject for ridicule. You see, sir, and you know how arbitrarily his excellency, our great prime minister, Count Struensee, disposes of the finances,--the pure blood of the poor subjects. You, sir, are a Dane of noble extraction, beloved by our king, to whom you and your family owe so many favours, and yet you keep silence! Do you not blush? and are you not convinced in your conscience that you ought to fall the first sacrifice of such conduct, since you might have prevented it, or had, at least, a thousand opportunities to set matters to rights again? If tumult and rebellion (which God forbid) should be the consequences, whom do you think the exasperated populace would attack first? Would they not secure you first, as you are at least as culpable as Struensee? And do not you expose your life, sooner or later, to the greatest danger by this conduct, which is not consistent with the character of an honest man? Reflect, sir, and return to your duty: I conjure you by the ashes of your father, whom you never knew; by the tears of your virtuous mother, who weeps, perhaps, already on account of your approaching untimely death; and what is still more, I conjure you, by the tears which may some day be shed on your account by the king, the royal family, and your afflicted country.