I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided； and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past， I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years， to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House？ Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received？Trust it not， sir； it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to betray with a kiss. Ask yourself how this gracious reception of our petition comports with these war—like preparations， which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation？ Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled， that force must be called into win back our love？ Let us not deceive ourselves， sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation； the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen， sir， what means this martial array， if its purpose be not to force us to submission？ Can gentlemen assign any other possible motives for it？ Has Great Britain any enemy， in this quarter of the world， to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies？ No， sir， she has none. They are meant tor us； they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them？ Shall we try argument？ Sir， we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer on the subject？ Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable； but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication？ What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted？ Let us not， I beseech you， sir， deceive ourselves longer. Sir， we have done everything that could be done， to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned； we have remonstrated； we have supplicated； we have prostrated ourselves before the throne， and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministryand Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted； our remonstrance have produced additional violence and insult； our supplications have been disregarded； and we have been spurned， with contempt， from the foot of the throne. In vain， after these things， may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free—if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending—if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged， and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained， we must fight！ l repeat it， sir， we must fight！ An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us！
They tell us， sir， that we are weak； unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger？ Will it be the next week， or the next year？ Will it be when we are totally disarmed， and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house？ Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction？ Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance， by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope， until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot？ Sir， we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people， armed in the holy cause of liberty， and in such a country as that which we possess， are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides， sir， we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations， and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle， sir， is not to the strong alone； it is to the vigilant， the active， the brave. Besides， sir， we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it， it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery！ Our chains are forged！ Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston！ The war is inevitable— and let it come！ I repeat it， sir， let it come！
It is in vain， sir， to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry Peace， Peace—but there is no peace. The war is actually begun！ The next galethat sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms！ Our brethren are already in the field！ Why stand we here idle？ What is it that gentlemen wish？ What would they have？ Is life so dear， or peace so sweet， as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery？ Forbid it， Almighty God！ I know not what course others may take； but as for me， give me liberty， or give me death！
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The Gettysburg Address
葛底斯堡演说
Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation， conceived in liberty， and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war， testing whether that nation， or any nation so conceived and so dedicated， can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
