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The Politician Out-Witted. Samuel Low
Читать онлайн.Название The Politician Out-Witted
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isbn 4064066131234
Автор произведения Samuel Low
Жанр Языкознание
Издательство Bookwire
Samuel Low
The Politician Out-Witted
Published by Good Press, 2019
EAN 4064066131234
Table of Contents
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
Men. |
Trueman. |
Old Loveyet. |
Charles Loveyet, engaged to Harriet. |
Frankton, his Friend. |
Worthnought. |
Humphry. |
Toupee. |
Thomas. |
Women. |
Harriet, daughter to Trueman. |
Maria, her Friend. |
Tabitha Cantwell. |
Herald. |
Dolly. |
Scene—The city of New-York. Time of four acts is one day, and the fifth act commences the second day.
THE
POLITICIAN OUT-WITTED
ACT I.
Scene I. Old Loveyet's House.
Enter Old Loveyet.
Ugh, ugh, ugh—what a sad rage for novelty there is in this foolish world! How eagerly all your inspectors in the Daily Advertiser, the New-York Packet, and all the long catalogue of advertisers and intelligencers, catch'd at the news of the day just now at the Coffee-House; though a wise man and a king has told them, there's nothing new under the sun. Ugh, ugh, ugh.
Enter Thomas.
Well, Thomas, what's the news?
[Eagerly.
Thomas. Nothing strange, sir.
Loveyet. That's more than I can say, Thomas, for I'm sure 'tis strange to hear so many people praise this same new Constitution, as it is call'd.—Has the New-York Journal been brought to-day?
Thomas. Yes, sir.
[Fetches the newspaper.
Loveyet. Look if it contains anything worth reading, Thomas; anything in behalf of the good old cause.
Thomas. Yes, sir, here's something will suit your honour's notion to a hair.
[Offers it to Loveyet.
Loveyet. No, Thomas, do you read it—I'm afraid I shall cast my eyes upon something that's on the other side of the question; some wicked consolidation scheme or another.
Thomas. Why, you know, sir, there's never anything in this paper but what's on your side of the question.
Loveyet. True, true; by my body, you're right enough, Tom.—I forgot that: but never mind; since you've got the paper, do you read it.
Thomas. He only wants me to read, because he can't see to do it himself—he's almost as blind as a bat, and yet he won't use spectacles for fear of being thought old.
[Aside.
Loveyet. Come, Thomas, let's have it—I'm all ears to hear you.
Thomas. 'Tis a pity you have not a little more eyesight and brains along with your ears. [Aside.] [Reads.] "Extract of a letter from a gentleman in Boston, dated February the third, 1788.—Our convention will pass the federal government by a considerable majority: The more it is examined, the more converts are made for its adoption. This you may rely on."
Loveyet. 'Tis a cursed lie.—Why, why, you confounded scoundrel, do you mean to ridicule your master?
Thomas. I ask pardon, sir; I thought it was the New-York Journal; but I see it is Mr. Child's Daily Advertiser.
Loveyet. A plague on his aristocratic intelligence!—Begone, you vile foe to American Liberty, or I'll—
[Exit Thomas.
Enter Trueman.
What, my friend Trueman! well, what's the news, eigh?
Trueman. I have not learn'd a single monosyllable, sir.
Loveyet. Nothing concerning this same Constitution there is so much talk about, friend Horace? A miserable Constitution, by the bye. If mine was no better—ugh, ugh, ugh—I say, if—ugh, ugh, if my constitution was no better than this same political one, I solemnly swear, as true as I am this day, man and boy, two score and three years, five months, eleven days, six hours, and, and—[Pulling out his watch.] fifty-nine minutes old; why, I—I—I would—I don't know what I wou'd not do. Ugh, ugh.
Trueman. Mr. Loveyet, you run on in such a surprising manner with your narrations, imprecations, admirations, and interrogations, that, upon my education, sir, I believe you are approaching to insanity, frenzy, lunacy, madness, distraction—a man of your age—
Loveyet. Age, sir, age!—And what then, sir, eigh! what then? I'd have you to know, sir, that I shall not have lived forty years till next spring twelvemonth, old as I am; and if my countenance seems to belie me a little or so, why—trouble, concern for the good of my country, sir, and this tyrannical, villainous Constitution have made me look so; but my health is sound, sir; my lungs are good, sir, [Raising his voice.]—ugh, ugh, ugh—I