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作者: Charles Dickens

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That, this patriot would be produced before them. That, his
position and attitude were, on the whole, sublime. That, he had
been the prisoner's friend, but, at once in an auspicious and an
evil hour detecting his infamy, had resolved to immolate the
traitor he could no longer cherish in his bosom, on the sacred
altar of his country. That, if statues were decreed in Britain,
as in ancient Greece and Rome, to public benefactors, this
shining citizen would assuredly have had one. That, as they were
not so decreed, he probably would not have one. That, Virtue, as
had been observed by the poets (in many passages which he well
knew the jury would have, word for word, at the tips of their
tongues; whereat the jury's countenances displayed a guilty
consciousness that they knew nothing about the passages), was in
a manner contagious; more especially the bright virtue known as
patriotism, or love of country.

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