Excerpts from a book by Charles Piggot, dated 1795 and written from within his prison cell.

The Letter D from Piggot's Political Dictionary (1795)

Dagger, ― a figure in rhetoric, unknown to ancient and modern orators, till the days of Mr. Edmund Burke, to whose pointed genius we are indebted for the discovery.
Damien, ― a virtuous assassin, who aimed an abortive blow at the life of a tyrant (Louis XV.) who by his prodigality and brutal vices had scattered famine far and wide over his country., and corrupted the morals of a whole people. Damien underwent the most studied and excruciating tortures; his eye­balls were torn out; hot boiling lead, drop by drop, was poured into their sockets, and every refinement of cruellest invention practised on his mangled body; and for what? for an ineffectual attempt to rid the world of a monster, who every day of his life was the cause of misery and death to thousands. Damien expired on the bed of torture. The other was suffered to die in peace on a bed of state; but after death, the people could not be restrained from venting their execration and pointing their wrath against his putrid, Royal corpse.
Death, ― the grand leveller of human distinctions. Armed with his dreadful scymitar, he mows down princes and peasants indiscriminately; but he is partial to sorrow and misfortune, visiting the wretched under their afflictions, and relieving them from all their troubles, while at the very same instant he will hurl a tyrant, in the plenitude of omnipotence, from his throne, and level the conqueror of worlds in the dust. He will stand invisible at the elbow of Kings, when they are meditating the most wasteful and unbounded schemes of ambition and conquest, the slavery of their own subjects, and the extermination of distant empires. Death in an instant blasts their infernal projects, and sends them to their accunt, with all their enormities on their heads.
Debauchery, ― Carlton­house, Kempshot. The Dunkirk Hero in a fit of intoxication at three o'clockin the morning at a brothel, surrounded by half a dozen prostitutes, watching a favourable opportunity to pick his pocket. Scene in W­t­n's, Berkeley­street.
Debt, (National) ― Politicians describe the immensity of our public debt as the surest proof of our prosperity. Philosophers lament it, as the cause of unparalleled taxation and poverty to the people.
Degeneracy, ― Old England.
Delusion, ― the ruling principle and last surviving hope of the British Cabinet.
Democrat, ― one who maintains the rights of the people; an enemy to privileged orders, and all monarchial encroachments, the advocate of peace, oeconomy, and reform. Aristotle affirms that liberty can never flourish out of a democracy. Montesquieu calls it the nursery of virtue.
Discontent, (popular) ― In the aristocratic dictionary, sedition. When people, vexed and goaded by oppression, express discontent, aristocracy deems it sedition. The Judges tell them they have no right to complain; things cannot be better, and the law finally condemns them to the pillory, fine, and two years confinement in one of his Majesty's Bastilles, there to learn patience, resignation, and submission. When popular discontents have been very prevalent, it may safely be affirmed that there has been something amiss in the constitution, or in the conduct of the Government. Mr. Burke's opinion has since undergone a complete revolution.
Disappointment, ― our Royal Dunkirk Hero raising the siege of that place, reduced to the necessity of leaving his artillery behind, and of saving himself by a precipitate flight; the evacuation of Toulon, and the recovery of King George III. in the year 1789.
Dsinterestedness, ― the rapacity of courtiers, increasing with the distresses of their country; Lord Grenville accepting the Auditorship of the Exchequer, a sinecure yielding ten thousand a year, while the nation is almost reduced to beggary; and Lord Loughborough giving up the Common Pleas for the Seals, at a time when, on an average, there was not more than fifty commissions of bankrutcy signed per week, and when the profits of each commission to his Lordship did not exceedfifteen pounds.
Dissimulation, ― an art in which Kings excel. The late Louis Capet, King of France, fell a victim to the fatal skill with which he practised its refinements. There are other Kings still greater adepts in the art, and who continue to practise it with incredible success, although it is not morally impossible but a similar fate may finally befal them. Fasts and prayers, all the external cant of religion, are attributes of dissimulation. Halifax stiles it a jewel in the crown.
Divinity, ― the Bench of Bishops uniformly voting in their capacity as legislators, against the maxims of the gospel, in support of war and extermination.
Drunkenness, ― Messrs. Pitt and Dundas, when so intoxicated with liquor, as not to be able to articulate their words, engaging a vast majority in the House of Commons to precipitate their country into a war with France; the festivities of Brighton, Holwood, Wimbledon, Gordon House, Downing­street; the Duke of Norfolk drinking common gin with the Royal Sovereign, at her lodgings in Strand­lane.
Dullness, ― Poet Jeringham's tragedy; the Siege of Berwick; Lady Wallace's comedy; Mrs. Robinson's novels; the House of Peers; fashionable routes; Monsieur Le Texier's Readings; and their Majesties private parties.
Dunce, ― Lord G­­nv­lle, Tom St­­le, Colonel Cawthorne, &c. &c.