The Politician Out-Witted Part 7

TRUEMAN. Avaunt, thou plebeian, thou ignoramus!

HUMPHRY. Why, I lay now I can say that as good as you, for all you're such a fine scholard.--I won't be plain, thou ignorant mouse.

TRUEMAN. "_Monstrum horrendum, cui lumen ademptum!_"

HUMPHRY. Monstrous memorandums, cu--no, I can't say that; that's too hard for me. Well, what a glorious thing it is for to have good larning.

LOVEYET. Sixty odd years indeed! provoking wretch!

HUMPHRY. What a b.l.o.o.d.y pa.s.sion he's in!

TRUEMAN. Pray, Mr. Loveyet, do not anathematize me so;--if you do not civilize your phraseology a little, I must have recourse to a little castigation, for, _necessitas non habet legem_, you know, Mr. Loveyet.

LOVEYET. I know nothing about such nonsense, not I.

TRUEMAN. You are the most unenlightened, contumacious, litigious, petulant, opprobrious, proditorious, misanthropic mortal I ever confabulated a colloquy with; by the dignity of my profession you are.

HUMPHRY. What monstrous queer words he discourses the old fellow with!

LOVEYET. Mighty pleasant and witty, by my body; sixty years, forsooth!--But I'll be aveng'd of you.--Your daughter sha'n't have my son--there, sir,--how do you like that? Sixty years, indeed! Ugh, ugh.

HUMPHRY. What an old reprobate it is! He swears till he sweats again.

TRUEMAN. What an unlucky affair! [_Aside._

LOVEYET. And give me leave to tell you, Mr. Schoolmaster, I was an old--I--I mean--I was a _great_ fool to disparage him so much as to think of the match.

TRUEMAN. Illiberal aspersion! But were I as contemptible as you think me, a disastrous war has rendered me so; and as for my child, Providence has placed her above dependence on an unfortunate father: the bequest of a worthy relation has made her, what the world calls, rich; but her mind--is far richer; the most amiable temper, improved by a virtuous and refined education (not to mention her beauty) deservedly makes her the object of general love and respect, and renders your present resolution a matter of perfect indifference to me.

LOVEYET. Well, well, so be it; but you never shall be Charles's father-in-law, for all that--that's as fix'd as fate,--you may beg my forgiveness for your faults by and by, but your daughter shall never be mine, I promise you.

TRUEMAN. Conceited old sot! [_Exit._

HUMPHRY. He's gone at last.

LOVEYET. What brought _you_ here, pray?

HUMPHRY. Why, my legs, to be sure.--Here, old gentleman, if you'll promise you won't get in such a pa.s.sion as you did just now, I've got some news to tell you.

LOVEYET. I in a pa.s.sion? 'tis no such thing--I didn't mind anything he said, because he's old and fretful;--but what news, eigh--what news?

HUMPHRY. Here's a letter for you. [_Gives it to LOVEYET._

LOVEYET. [_Opens the letter and reads._] I am heartily glad, 'faith!

[_Reads again._]--'Od's my life, I'm as happy as the Great Mogul, and as good-natur'd--

HUMPHRY. That's clever; I likes to see people good-natur'd,--it makes me as happy as the Great Pogul.

LOVEYET. I'll go tell old Trueman's daughter, Charles is coming, but not for her--I know she'll be mortify'd, poor girl, but I can't help that. Who gave you this letter?

HUMPHRY. Why your son, to be sure.

LOVEYET. When did you leave the _Havanna_, pray?

HUMPHRY. The _Havanna_?

LOVEYET. Yes, are you not from the West-Indies?

HUMPHRY. Who--me?--not I.

LOVEYET. Why, what the plague makes you think he was my son, then?

HUMPHRY. Because he said you was his father--that's a good reason, an't it?

But it's a wise son knows his own father, as the old saying is.

LOVEYET. How can that be, when the letter is dated in the Island of Cuba, the twentieth day of January, and he says he don't expect to leave it till the beginning of March, and this is only February, so it is impossible he shou'd be here yet.

HUMPHRY. May be you an't the old gentleman, then.

LOVEYET. To be sure I an't an _old_ gentleman. Did he say I was old, eigh?

HUMPHRY. Yes, I believe he did.

LOVEYET. I believe you lie--and I'll let you know that I an't old enough to be his father, you--

HUMPHRY. Well, if the case lies there, that settles the harsh, d' ye see; but, for my part, I think how you look old enough and ugly enough to be his great-grandfather, as the old saying is.

LOVEYET. Sirrah, get out of my house, or I'll break your bones for you.

HUMPHRY. I'm a going--howsomever, give me the letter again; you've got no business with it--you an't his father.

LOVEYET. You lie! I am his father--if he was here, he wou'dn't deny it.

HUMPHRY. Why, he is here, I tell you--here in New-York. I suppose how he's made a small mistake about the day of the month, and says he's just arrived from the East-Indies, for he's cursed apt for to make blunders;--that about the corn and the pigs; ha, ha, ha.

LOVEYET. Do you laugh at me, you vagabond?

HUMPHRY. Not I, old gentleman; I've got too much respect for old age, I'll insure you.

LOVEYET. I shall go distracted!

HUMPHRY. Put on your spectacles and look again--I'm sure your eyes must perceive you, for I'll give my corporal oath he an't in the East-Indies.

LOVEYET. It is not the East-Indies, you great calf; you mean the West-Indies.

HUMPHRY. No matter if it's East or West; the odds an't much for the matter o' that.

LOVEYET. What an abominable fool!