How much it would injure the honour of our sovereign to be charged with the dissolution of concord, and the subversion of the general bulwarks of publick faith, it is superfluous to explain.  To know the condition to which a compliance with this motion would reduce the British nation, we need only turn our eyes downwards upon the hourly scenes of common life; we need only attend to the occurrences which crowd perpetually upon our view, and consider the calamitous state of that man, of whom it is generally known that he cannot be trusted, and that secrets communicated to him are in reality scattered among mankind.

Every one knows that such a man can expect none of the advantages or pleasures of friendship, that he cannot transact affairs with others upon terms of equality, that he must purchase the favours of those that are more powerful than himself, and frighten those into compliance with his designs who have any thing to fear from him; that he must give uncommon security for the performance of his covenants, that he can have no influence but that of money, which will probably become every day less, that his success will multiply his enemies, and that in misfortunes he will be without refuge.

The condition of nations collectively considered is not different from that of private men, their prosperity is produced by the same conduct, and their calamities drawn upon them by the same errours, negligences, or crimes; and therefore, since he that betrays secrets in private life, indisputably forfeits his claim to trust, and since he that can be no longer trusted is on the brink of ruin, I cannot but conclude that, as by this motion all the secrets of our government must be inevitably betrayed, my duty to his majesty, my love of my country, and my obligations to discharge with fidelity the trust which my constituents have conferred upon me, oblige me to oppose it.

Mr. Littleton then rose, and spoke to this effect:—­Sir, it always portends well to those who dispute on the side of truth and reason, when their opponents appear not wholly to be hardened against the force of argument, when they seem desirous to gain the victory, not by superiority of numbers but of reason, and attempt rather to convince, than to terrify or bribe.  For though men are not in quest of truth themselves, nor desirous to point it out to others; yet, while they are obliged to speak with an appearance of sincerity, they must necessarily afford the unprejudiced and attentive an opportunity of discovering the right.  While they think themselves under a necessity of reasoning, they cannot but show the force of a just argument, by the unsuccessfulness of their endeavours to confute it, and the propriety of an useful and salutary motion, by the slight objections which they raise against it.  They cannot but find themselves sometimes forced to discover what they can never be expected to acknowledge, the weakness of their own reasons, by deserting them when they are pressed with contrary assertions, and seeking a subterfuge in new arguments equally inconclusive and contemptible.  They show the superiority of their opponents, like other troops, by retreating before them, and forming one fortification behind another, in hopes of wearying those whom they cannot hope to repulse.