'Tis true that the journey to castle St. Juan Was a project that brought the projectors to ruin; But still, my dear lords, I would have you reflect, Who nothing do venture can nothing expect. If the Commons agree to afford me new treasures, My sentence once more is for vigorous measures: Accustom'd so long to head winds and bad weather, Let us conquer or go to the devil together. [128] In the _Freeman's Journal_ of February 2, 1782, is given his Majesty's speech of November 27, 1781, in full, followed by the speech he should have given. The first tidings of the surrender of Cornwallis reached England November 25. The king's speech to Parliament was confused and aimless. [129] Alluding to the last campaign of the war, which culminated in the surrender of Cornwallis. [130] "Commodore George Johnstone, commanding the British East India fleet, was attacked by the French fleet under M. de Suffrein at St. Jago, one of the Cape de Verd Islands, in 1781. Johnstone's flag-ship was the Rodney, 50."--_Duyckinck._ RIVINGTON'S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT[131] [A True Copy from the Records][132] Since life is uncertain, and no one can say, How soon we may go, or how long we shall stay, Methinks he is wisest who soonest prepares, And settles in season his worldly affairs: Some folks are so weak they can scarce avoid crying, And think when they're making their wills they are dying; 'Tis surely a serious employment--but still, Who e'er died the sooner for making his will? Let others be sad when their lives they review, But I know whom I've serv'd--and him faithfully too; And though it may seem a fanatical story, He often has show'd me a glimpse of his glory. IMPRIMIS, my carcase I give and devise To be made into cakes of a moderate size, To nourish those tories whose spirits may droop, And serve the king's army with Portable Soup. Unless I mistake, in the scriptures we read That "worms on the dead shall deliciously feed," The scripture stands true--and that I am firm in, For what are our tories and soldiers but vermin?-- This soup of soups can't be call'd that of beef, And this may to some be a matter of grief: But I'm certain the Bull would occasion a laugh, That beef Portable Soup should be made of a Calf. To the king, my dear master, I give a full sett (In volumes bound up) of the Royal Gazette, In which he will find the vast record contain'd Of provinces conquer'd and victories gain'd. As to Arnold the traitor and Satan his brother, I beg they will also accept of another; And this shall be bound in Morocco red leather, Provided they'll read it like brothers together. But if Arnold should die, 'tis another affair, Then Satan surviving shall be the sole heir; He often has told me he thought it quite clever, So to him and his heirs I bequeath it forever.