The first two readings passed without a division.  But, on the motion that the bill should be committed, there was a debate in which the right of free speech was most liberally used by the opponents of the government.  It was idle, they said, to talk about the poor Huguenots or the poor Palatines.  The bill was evidently meant for the benefit, not of French Protestants or German Protestants, but of Dutchmen, who would be Protestants, Papists or Pagans for a guilder a head, and who would, no doubt, be as ready to sign the Declaration against Transubstantiation in England as to trample on the Cross in Japan.  They would come over in multitudes.  They would swarm in every public office.  They would collect the customs, and gauge the beer barrels.  Our Navigation Laws would be virtually repealed.  Every merchant ship that cleared out from the Thames or the Severn would be manned by Zealanders and Hollanders and Frieslanders.  To our own sailors would be left the hard and perilous service of the royal navy.  For Hans, after filling the pockets of his huge trunk hose with our money by assuming the character of a native, would, as soon as a pressgang appeared, lay claim to the privileges of an alien.  The intruders would soon rule every corporation.  They would elbow our own Aldermen off the Royal Exchange.  They would buy the hereditary woods and halls of our country gentlemen.  Already one of the most noisome of the plagues of Egypt was among us.  Frogs had made their appearance even in the royal chambers.  Nobody could go to Saint James’s without being disgusted by hearing the reptiles of the Batavian marshes croaking all round him; and if this bill should pass, the whole country would be as much infested by the loathsome brood as the palace already was.

The orator who indulged himself most freely in this sort of rhetoric was Sir John Knight, member for Bristol, a coarseminded and spiteful Jacobite, who, if he had been an honest man, would have been a nonjuror.  Two years before, when Mayor of Bristol, he had acquired a discreditable notoriety by treating with gross disrespect a commission sealed with the great seal of the Sovereigns to whom he had repeatedly sworn allegiance, and by setting on the rabble of his city to hoot and pelt the Judges.503 He now concluded a savage invective by desiring that the Serjeant at Arms would open the doors, in order that the odious roll of parchment, which was nothing less than a surrender of the birthright of the English people, might be treated with proper contumely.  “Let us first,” he said, “kick the bill out of the House; and then let us kick the foreigners out of the kingdom.”