The Politician Out-Witted Part 14

TRUEMAN. Mr. Loveyet is a weak man;--you must not mind what he says.

LOVEYET. Oh, I shall burst!

TRUEMAN. Only think now of his sending me a challenge, because I told him he was sixty odd years of--

LOVEYET. [_Running towards them._] Death and the devil! Have I sent you a challenge?

HUMPHRY. No, not you, old gentleman.

LOVEYET. I'll give you _old_ gentleman.--Take that, for calling me old again. [_Offers to strike him; but missing his blow, he falls down._] Oh, what an unlucky dog I am! My evil genius is certainly let loose today.

TRUEMAN. Let us coolly enquire into this enigmatical affair, Mr. Loveyet.

[_Breaks open the note, and reads._] What is all this?--b.o.o.by--blockhead-- satisfaction--challenge--courage--honour--gentleman--honour'd per Monsieur Cubb.

HUMPHRY. Aye, that's I.

TRUEMAN. And pray, Mr. Cubb, who gave you this pretty epistle?

HUMPHRY. Why, mounsieur, the barber.

TRUEMAN. By the dignity of my profession, it must be so:--Now there's a solution to the enigma.--Mr. Loveyet, you will excuse my mistaking this business so much;--the paltry Frisieur never enter'd my head;--you recollect I gave him a little flagellation this morning.

LOVEYET. Yes, and I recollect the occasion too;--this confounded upstart Const.i.tution (that cause of all my crosses and troubles) is at the bottom of every mischief.

TRUEMAN. Yes, your wou'd-be Const.i.tution, has indeed done a deal of mischief.

LOVEYET. I deny it;--it is perfectly inoffensive and mild.

TRUEMAN. Mild, indeed:--happy would it be for America, if her government was more coercive and energetic!--I suppose you have heard that Ma.s.sachusetts has ratified this upstart Const.i.tution;--this is the sixth grand column in the federal edifice; we only want three more to make up the lucky nine; and then the nine Muses will make our western world their permanent abode; and _he_ who is at once their Favourite and Patron, will preside over the whole: then we shall see another Golden Age; arts will then flourish, and literature be properly encouraged. That's the grand _desideratum_ of _my_ wishes.

LOVEYET. A fig for your Latin and your literature!--That's the way your unconst.i.tutional Const.i.tutionalists take the advantage of our weak side, and--

TRUEMAN. And the said weak side being easily discovered, as you have but one side,--go on, sir.

LOVEYET. And cram their unconst.i.tutional bolus down our throats, with Latin;--you and your vile junto of perfidious politicians want to _Latin_ us out of our liberties.

HUMPHRY. Well, why don't they take the law of the pollikitchens then, eigh?

TRUEMAN. Mr. Loveyet, I never knew a man of your age and wisdom--

LOVEYET. Age, sir!--Wisdom!--Yes, wisdom, sir.--Age again, eigh? Ugh, ugh.

TRUEMAN. Was there ever such preposterous behaviour!--You are getting as crazy as your favorite Const.i.tution.

LOVEYET. You are crazier than either, you old blockhead, or you would not make such a crazy speech: I say my const.i.tution is a thousand per cent.

better than yours. Ugh, ugh, ugh.

TRUEMAN. A pretty figure for a good const.i.tution! What a striking instance of health, youth, and beauty! How emblematically grotesque! The very image of deformity and infirmity! A perfect mirror for Milton's description of Sin and Death.

_Not Yorick's skull, nor Hamlet's ghost, Nor all the tragic, stage-made host; With saucer eyes, and looks aghast, Would make me run away so fast: Not all who Milton's head inspire,-- "Gorgons and Hydras and Chimaeras dire!"

Nor haggard Death, nor snake-torn Sin, Look half so ugly, old and thin; No--all his h.e.l.l-born, monstrous crew, Are not so dire a sight as you!_

[_While TRUEMAN is saying this, LOVEYET appears to be in a violent rage, and makes several attempts to interrupt the former, who shuns LOVEYET, as if afraid._]

LOVEYET. Fire and murder!--Must I bear to be held up for such a monster?

Perdition!--What shall I do? What shall I say?--Oh! oh! oh!--Oh!

liberty! Oh, my country! Look how he ridicules me!--Did ever any poor man suffer so much for the good of his country!--But I won't give up the glorious cause yet;--sir,--Mr. Trueman--I insist upon it, the new Const.i.tution, sir,--I say, that the old--the new--that--that--'Zounds and fury!--

[_Running towards him, and making an attempt to strike him._

TRUEMAN. My dear Mr. Loveyet, compose yourself a little;--for heaven's sake, sir, consider;--your animal Const.i.tution is not able to withstand the formidable opposition of my political one;--the shock is too great;--let me persuade you, sir; and as soon as nine States accede to the adoption of the new Const.i.tution, we will investigate the merits of the old. Ha, ha, ha.

[_This speech and the preceding one, are to be spoken at the same time; during which, TRUEMAN and LOVEYET run about the stage, and HUMPHRY retreats from them as they approach him._]

_Enter HARRIET alarmed._

HARRIET. Oh, Papa,--my dear Papa, what's the matter!

LOVEYET. And, sir, as sure as--as--eight times nine is sixty-three, your new government is not bottom, not sound; and--

TRUEMAN. And as sure as you are sixty-three, your head is not sound.

LOVEYET. Here is your incomparable daughter;--I came here to acquaint you of her scandalous conduct; but now she can save me that trouble.

TRUEMAN. How, sir! My daughter's scandalous conduct?

LOVEYET. I was going to tell you. I caught her with a strange gallant,--a "very particular friend;" whose "love,--friendship, I would say," was so sincere, that she was kind enough to grant him a little "friendly freedom,"

in my presence.

TRUEMAN. Heaven protect me! There certainly must be something in this.

[_Aside._

LOVEYET. And that I have received a letter from my son.

HUMPHRY. Aye, now he's his son again. [_Aside._

LOVEYET. And that he will be here soon, and that when he comes, I am going to marry him to Miss Maria Airy.

HUMPHRY. I must go tell Mr. Lovit of that, at once.

[_Aside, and exit._

LOVEYET. And--but it is no matter now:--I suppose she will tell you a fine story of a c.o.c.k and a bull.

HARRIET. I shall not be base enough to deceive a father, I give you my honour, sir.

LOVEYET. I am very much mistaken if you have not given _that_ to somebody already:--A woman's honour is a very perishable commodity; a little thing often spoils it.

HARRIET. By what a feeble tenure does poor woman hold her character and peace of mind!--It is true, sir, that a woman's _reputation_ is too frequently, with ruffian cruelty, blasted in the bud, without a cause; and that so effectually, that it seldom or never flourishes again; but let me remind you, sir, in the words of the poet, that--