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_ ACT II - SCENE II
SCENE II. OLD LOVEYET'S House.
Enter OLD LOVEYET and TRUEMAN.
LOVEYET.
I tell you it is the most infernal scheme that ever was devis'd.
TRUEMAN.
And I tell you, sir, that your argument is heterodox,
sophistical, and most preposterously illogical.
LOVEYET.
I insist upon it, sir,
you know nothing at all about the matter;
and, give me leave to tell you, sir--
TRUEMAN.
What--give you leave to tell me I know nothing at all about the matter!
I shall do no such thing, sir--I'm not to be govern'd by your ipse dixit.
LOVEYET.
I desire none of your musty Latin, sir, for I don't understand it, not I.
TRUEMAN.
Oh, the ignorance of the age! To oppose a plan of government like the new Constitution. Like it, did I say?--There never was one like it:--neither Minos, Solon, Lycurgus nor Romulus, ever fabricated so wise a system;--why it is a political phenomenon, a prodigy of legislative wisdom, the fame of which will soon extend almost ultramundane, and astonish the nations of the world with its transcendent excellence.--To what a sublime height will the superb edifice attain!
LOVEYET.
Your aspiring edifice shall never be erected in this State, sir.
TRUEMAN.
Mr. Loveyet, you will not listen to reason: only attend calmly one moment
--[Reads.]
--"We the people of the United States,
in order to form a more perfect union,
establish justice, insure domestic tranquillity, provide--"
LOVEYET.
I tell you I won't hear it.
TRUEMAN.
Mark all that.
[Reads again.]
"Section the first.--All legislative powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States, which shall consist of a Senate and House of Representatives." Very judicious and salutary, upon my erudition.--"Section the second--"
LOVEYET.
I'll hear no more of your sections.
TRUEMAN.
"Section the second.--The House of Representatives--"
LOVEYET.
They never shall represent me, I promise them.
TRUEMAN.
Why, you won't hear me out.
LOVEYET.
I have heard enough to set me against it.
TRUEMAN.
You have not heard a quantum sufficit to render you competent
to give a decisive opinion; besides, you hear with passion and prejudice.
LOVEYET.
I don't care for that;
I say it is a devilish design upon our liberty and property;
by my body, it is;--it would reduce us to poverty and slavery.
[Enter HUMPHRY, listening.]
HUMPHRY.
What's that about liberty, and property, and slavery, and popery, and the devil? I hope the pope and the devil an't come to town for to play the devil, and make nigers of us!
TRUEMAN.
You will have it your own way.
LOVEYET.
To be sure I will--in short, sir, the old Constitution is good enough for me.
HUMPHRY.
I wonder what Constitution magnifies.
TRUEMAN.
The old Constitution!--ha, ha, ha, ha. Superlatively ludicrous and facetious, upon my erudition; and highly productive of risibility--ha, ha, ha. The old Constitution! A very shadow of a government--a perfect caput mortuum;--why, one of my schoolboys would make a better: 'tis grown as superannuated, embecilitated, valetudinarianated, invalidated, enervated and dislocated as an old man of sixty odd.
LOVEYET.
Ah, that's me--that's me--sixty odd, eigh
--[Aside.]
I--I--ugh, ugh, I know what you want:
--a consolidation and annihilation of the States.
TRUEMAN.
A consolidation and annihilation!--You certainly have bid defiance to the first rudiments of grammar, and sworn war against the whole body of lexicographers. Mercy on me! If words are to be thus abus'd and perverted, there is an end of the four grand divisions of grammar at once: If consolidation and annihilation are to be us'd synonymously, there is a total annihilation of all the moods, tenses, genders, persons, nouns, pronouns, verbs, adverbs, substantives, conjunctions, interjections, prepositions, participles,--
[Coughs.]
HUMPHRY.
Oh dear, oh dear,--what a wise man a Schoolmaster is!
TRUEMAN.
How can the States be consolidated and annihilated too? If they are consolidated or compounded into one national mass, surely the individual States cannot be annihilated, for, if they were annihilated, where would be the States to compose a consolidation?--Did you ever study Logic, sir?
LOVEYET.
No, but I've studied common sense tho', and that tells me I am right, and consequently you are wrong; there, that's as good logic as yours.
TRUEMAN.
You mean Paine's Common Sense, I suppose--yes, yes,
there you manifest something like common sense, Mr. Loveyet.
LOVEYET.
'Tis no such thing, sir; it lately took three speakers, and much better ones than Paine, no less than three whole days, to prove that consolidation and annihilation are one and the same thing.
TRUEMAN.
An execrable Triumvirate--a scandalum magnatum to all public bodies: I suppose they and their adherents are now sitting in Pandemonium, excogitating their diabolical machinations against us.
LOVEYET.
A pack of nonsensical stuff!
TRUEMAN.
Harkee, Mr. Loveyet, I will propound a problem to you. We will suppose there are two parallel lines drawn on this floor, which, notwithstanding they may be very contiguous to each other, and advance ad infinitum, can never approximate so near as to effect a junction, in which fundamental axiom all mathematicians profess a perfect congruity and acquiescence:--now, to elucidate the hypothesis a little, we will suppose here is one line; and we will further suppose here is another line.
[Draws his cane over LOVEYET'S feet, which makes him jump.]
Now we will suppose that line is you, and this line is compos'd, form'd, constituted, made up of discernment, political knowledge, public spirit, and true republicanism,--but, as I predicated antecedently, that line is you
--[Striking his cane on LOVEYET'S feet.]
You must not forget that.
LOVEYET.
S'death, sir, do you mean to make a mathematical instrument of me, to try experiments with?
TRUEMAN.
Now take notice--as the East is to the West, the North Pole to the South ditto, the Georgium Sidus to this terraqueous globe, or the Aborigines of America to the Columbians of this generation, so is that line to this line, or Mr. Loveyet to true wisdom and judgment; sometimes appearing to verge towards a coalition with them, but never to effect it. There, sir,--in this argument, you have a major, a minor and a conclusion, consonant to the received principles of logic.
LOVEYET.
Confound your senseless comparisons; your problems,
your mathematics, and your Georgium Sidus.
HUMPHRY.
Aye, confound your gorgon hydras, I say too.
LOVEYET.
Here you have been spending your breath to prove
--what?--that I am not a rational human being, but a mathematical line.
TRUEMAN.
I know you are not a mathematical line; you are not the twentieth part so straight and well made;--I only wish to convince you that the present government is an ignis fatuus that is leading you and thousands more to ruin.
LOVEYET.
But I don't choose to be convinc'd by you.
TRUEMAN.
No more than you'll be convinc'd you are sixty years old, I suppose.
LOVEYET.
Now see there again, see there! isn't this enough to try Job's patience? I'll let you know that my bodily and political Constitutions are both good, sir, both sound alike.
TRUEMAN.
I know they are. Ha, ha, ha.
HUMPHRY.
Pray, old gentleman, what sort of things may them same constitutions be?
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 bloody passion 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 passion
as you did just now, I've got some news to tell you.
LOVEYET.
I in a passion? '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!
HUMPHRY.
I'm no more a fool than you are--
LOVEYET.
Be gone, you scoundrel! Here, Thomas
--[Enter THOMAS.],
lug this fellow out of doors.
THOMAS.
Yes, sir.
HUMPHRY.
No, you sha'n't tho', d' ye see.
THOMAS.
I'm cursedly afraid of the great two-handed fellow too.
[Aside, and exit with HUMPHRY.]
LOVEYET
[manet].
Abusive rascal! But I won't put myself in a passion with such a vile animal.--I--I'll read the letter again.
"Honour'd Sir, "I have just time enough to acquaint you by the Oceanus, Captain Seaborn, who is now preparing to sail, that I have at length adjusted my business so as to be able to leave this place for New-York, the beginning of March; in which case you may look for me before the first of April next; when I promise myself the happiness of seeing you once more, and enjoying the society of the best of parents: till then I shall continue to be, with truly filial attachment, and anxious expectation of the happy event, your obliged and dutiful son,--CHARLES LOVEYET. "
I wonder he don't say anything of the coffee and madeira I wrote to him about;--egad, I must mind the main chance; a penny sav'd, is a penny got; and charity begins at home. By strictly attending to these excellent maxims, I am worth about five and twenty per cent. more than any other merchant in the city; and as for that stupid proverb, money is the root of all evil, 'tis well enough for those to say so, who have none; for my part, I know that much of the good things of this world is better than not enough--that a man can live longer upon a hundred thousand pounds than one thousand pounds--that if, the more we have the more we want, the more we have the more we make--and that it is better to make hay while the sun shines against a rainy day, when I shall be upon my last legs, than to work and toil like an ass in the rain; so it plainly appears that money is the root of all good;--that's my logic.--I long to see the young rogue tho'--I dare say he looks very like his father;--but, had I thought old Trueman wou'd have us'd me so ill, I wou'd not have wrote for him yet; for he shall not have his old sweetheart:--if he offers to disobey me in this respect, by my body, I'll disinherit the ungracious dog immediately.
[Exit.] _
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