We live, my lords, in a nation where the effects of strong liquors have been for a long time too well known; we know that they produce, in almost every one, a high opinion of his own merit; that they blow the latent sparks of pride into flame, and, therefore, destroy all voluntary submission; they put an end to subordination, and raise every man to an equality with his master, or his governour.  They repress all that awe by which men are restrained within the limits of their proper spheres, and incite every man to press upon him that stands before him, that stands in the place of which that sudden elevation of heart, which drunkenness bestows, makes him think himself more worthy.

Pride, my lords, is the parent, and intrepidity the fosterer of resentment; for this reason, men are almost always inclined, in their debauches, to quarrels and to bloodshed; they think more highly of their own merit, and, therefore, more readily conclude themselves injured; they are wholly divested of fear, insensible of present danger, superiour to all authority, and, therefore, thoughtless of future punishment; and what then can hinder them from expressing their resentment with the most offensive freedom, or pursuing their revenge with the most daring violence.

Thus, my lords, are forgotten disputes often revived, and after having been long reconciled, are at last terminated by blows; thus are lives destroyed upon the most trifling occasions, upon provocations often imaginary, upon chimerical points of honour, where he who gave the offence, perhaps without design, supports it only because he has given it; and he who resents it, pursues his resentment only because he will not acknowledge his mistake.

Thus are lives lost, my lords, at a time when those who set them to hazard, are without consciousness of their value, without sense of the laws which they violate, and without regard to any motives but the immediate influence of rage and malice.

When we consider, my lords, these effects of drunkenness, it can be no subject of wonder, that the magistrate finds himself overborne by a multitude united against him, and united by general debauchery.  Government, my lords, subsists upon reverence, and what reverence can be paid to the laws, by a crowd, of which every man is exalted by the enchantment of those intoxicating spirits, to the independence of a monarch, the wisdom of a legislator, and the intrepidity of a hero? when every man thinks those laws oppressive that oppose the execution of his present intentions, and considers every magistrate as his persecutor and enemy?

Laws, my lords, suppose reason; for who ever attempted to restrain beasts but by force; and, therefore, those that propose the promotion of publick happiness, which can be produced only by an exact conformity to good laws, ought to endeavour to preserve what may properly be called the publick reason; they ought to prevent a general depravation of the faculties of those whose benefit is intended, and whose obedience is required; they ought to take care that the laws may be known, for how else can they be observed? and how can they be known, or at least, how can they be remembered in the heats of drunkenness?