Chapter 7

Dramatis Personae

_Caesar_ . . . . . . _Ruler of the State._ _Francos_ . . . . . . _Governor General of a Province._ _Printus_ . . . . . . _Head of a Bureau._ _Quezox_ . . . . . . _Resident Delegate from the Province._ _Somnolent_ . . . . . _Head of a Bureau._ _McDuff_ . . . . . . _A Publican._

_Scene I. Caesar's Room at the Capitol._

_Caesar soliloquizing:_ Life is a problem intricate to solve: With outstretched arms to grasp, we know not what From out the future hidden by a veil With woof too dense for eye of man to pierce; Yet doth imagination pictures forms Which, when we would embrace, evade our touch And vanish into nothingness; while still We vain pursuit ever persistent make. Euclid from chaos order did evolve And on the scroll of Fame hath writ those laws Which Time, relentless, ne'er can thence efface. For Truth, immutable, is there entombed. But he, in flawless mental armor robed, Did crusade make where Science hath her home, And from her vaults where Truth was close entombed He raped their locks and brought the treasure forth. Long mankind groped in darkness, nor did dream That laws harmonious could measure space And count the cycles that should hail return Of each recurring comet on its round. Thus deep uncertainty enrobeth man: He comes like morning bringing with him light; He goes like evening, ent'ring portals dark Where none can track him to his final doom And know that Immortality's kind arms Shall hug him to her breast and bear him on To Fields whose verdure wears a brighter hue, Or whether Entity shall on the wings Of fickle Fate be borne to final rest, Who shall the mystery of being solve? We see the birdling break from prison shell And dream that we have found the source of life. Vain thought! the egg were but a cunning mask Which Nature wears to hide her handiwork. The spark electric issues from its cell Clothed with a pow'r the jealous gods might crave; But when or how it entity conceived, Is hid within creation's caverns deep. Now, in the realm of pow'r politic, reigns The God of Chaos anchor'd to his throne, And it remains for one of giant mind, Well disciplined in all scholastic lore, To break the chains which hold that anchor fast, And crush the Pow'r disordered seated there. Am I the instrument designed by Fate To, Euclid-like, from this anarchic whole Evolve the laws which shall Disorder deep Within the grave entomb and on that throne The God of Order seat, and in his hand Imperial scepter place, to rule the world Politic, as it on its axis rolls, Unharmed by venomed darts of turpitude? I dreamed of formulating certain laws Which economic matters would control. The midnight lamp, companion of my toil, Has burned in vain. Alas, I see it now. When the great "Commoner," of wisdom full, A plank within our platform did insert That our good ships which coastwise trade would ply Should float as free as sea-gull on the wing Through that deep channel, by our cunning wrought, Which links Pacific's waters to the Gulf, I, fool-like, did him earnestly applaud! Again my soul in bitterness doth surge Because from distant Isles the lightning brings Dire words of sour complaint from either clan, Which like to gladiators in the ring Seem but prepared to battle to the death. I listened to the frail but honeyed words Of one who held a judgeship in that clime, Only to find disgruntlement their source; And now it shames me, who have been cock-sure, That I should failure see emblazoned there. How could I prudence thus have cast aside And now my stomach fill with humble pie? Alas! my dreams that fed on self-esteem Are vanished as the dew before the sun. _(With energy)_ Another plank I'll wrench with giant hand. And wreck the platform, "if I bust a gut." _(Exit to drink an orangeade to quiet his nerves.)_

_Scene II: The Governor's room._

_Quezox:_ My Liege this Printus stands without the door, And seeks admission that he may explain His conduct. Shall I, bid him enter here? _Francos:_ In sooth, good Quezox, doth my spirit yearn To quick despatch my business with this man. _(Quezox retires and fetches Printus)_ _Quezox:_ Most noble Sire, this gentleman attends? _Francos:_ Sir, from thy mouth I explanation ask As to the import of a message sent To high officials of some labor bund Voicing complaint anent my conduct here. _Printus:_ In truth, I little know of this affair. These men a grievance feel, for they did come At my behest on weighty promise made To fill positions which experts alone Are proper occupants; and now they fear Their stipends may be cut with pruner's knife, Which to them each important loss portends And dire discomfort work on those they love. _Francos:_ Hold, Printus, hold! Thy words were idle chaff. Dost thou deny the allegation made That to the message thy consent wast had? _Printus:_ I no participation in it took!

_Francos, (severely:)_ Thy words do seem to have a double ring. But hie thee hence, while I investigate. The Democratic creed doth only know Complete submission on the henchman's part To him who momentary at the helm Doth guide the ship of state through calm and storm. To think in words, disloyalty proclaims; But act subservient fealty do prove. _(Exit Printus)_ _Quezox:_ Most noble Sire, thy courage I admire But Somnolent doth wait without the door. _Francos:_ Ha! He doth quickly to my call respond, But bid him enter. I will quick despatch The matter which thy urgent hopes demand. _(Enter Quezox and Somnolent)_ _Quezox:_ Sire, here is he who holds our wide domain Within the hollow of his cunning hand. _Francos:_ Sweet sire, an era new we usher in, And knowing well that thou dost entertain Oposing views upon a vital point, Twere best for thee to cast the mantle off. _Somnolent:_ In sooth, good sir, I find our minds as one. If Quezox's methods shall perchance obtain, 'Twere better that some henchman of his choice Should do untieing of his fiscal knots. _(Exit Somnolent)_ _Quezox:_ Sire, in the anteroom doth stand McDuff, With bearing like a criminal of state, Sustained by stubborn pride as he doth walk With measured, kingly step unto the block. _Francos:_ Go bid him enter, and on thy return, Take precedence; twere well to demonstrate The high esteem which Caesar for thee feels And give his party pride a parting dig. _(Enter Quezox and McDuff)_ _Quezox:_ My Liege, McDuff, who fills a council seat Within the party which has long controlled Affairs politic in these tropic Isles, Would fain resign the office he now holds. _Francos, consolingly:_ Events march on, and as the whirligig Of time revolves, so 'tis with politics. To-day one soars aloft on Vict'ry's wings; Tomorrow Fate those pinions proud may clip. 'Tis here Philosophy a cooling draught Kindly present to him who, from his seat, Is thrust by Fortune's hand, which killeth not, But only girds our loins for battles new. _McDuff:_ Sir Governor, thy words with wisdom teem. I threw the gauge of battle in the ring, And for each thrust the enemy did give I parried, and with vigor did return Each lunge in kind, and now my Medicine I gulp and whimper not. But look ye, sir! the wheel that now hath turned May grind us all between it cruel cogs. _(Exit McDuff)_ _Quezox to Francos, exultingly:_ A mighty day! a glorious day is here! But, Sire, the cleansing work is but begun. A joyful paean swells within my breast, And I must mouth it, else this heart will burst! _(Sings)_ We'll smite the grafters; smite them hip and thigh; Our motto shall be ever, "Do or die." We've got 'em on the run, And with every rising sun, We'll oil the new machine; Its blade we'll sharpen keen. Revenge shall fill the goblet to the brim, And "Pleasure saturnine" shall be our hymn. _Francos, applauding:_ 'Twere well, sweet Quezox! Thou in happy tone Hast voiced a noble sentiment in rhyme. But lurking in my mem'ry it doth seem That I recall in part those words so apt. _(Francos and Quezox embrace and retire.)_

* * * * *

SIR WINDBAG SEEKS ADVICE OF COUNT LUIE

_Scene: A room at No. ... A. Mabini._

Dramatis Personae

_Sir Windbag_ ... _A high official._ _Count Luie_ ..... _Another windbag._

SIR WINDBAG, _(to Count Luie):_ "Oh that mine enemy would write a book." A wise man in the past hath shrewdly said, Knowing full well that when one's thoughts are paged They like foul spirits menace peace of mind. Alas! 'tis so, when tongue shall like a bird Take wing, soaring aloft, and as the wind Fly aimless over mountain, hill and dale, Until tired nature doth demand repose, Why did I Roosevelt as a pattern take And boast his doctrines as the wisdom's fount From which I drank as a disciple might Who worships blindly at his idol's shrine? And now these varlets point with taunting grin At what my demigod hath ordered here, And oh, ye sages, what shall I reply? For now his work I purpose to undo. When I with eloquence did picture draw Of tyranny which from above did flow, And with convincing tongue did loud proclaim That pow'r should ever from below take root; I little dreamed that subtle minds would carp And inconsistency against me charge For earnest effort which eventuates In placing pow'r within the crafty hands Of those who long have under Spanish rule Imbibed the time clad notion that the few Who by the accident of happy birth, May make a gold mine of the hapless poor. They voice in cutting words that I who late Have cast my lot in these downtrodden Isles Should study well conditions e'er I speak As cock-sure as a teacher to his class. I, in triumphant tone, did voice the truth That in our homeland stinking graft prevails, But, ah! I overlook the damning fact That ignorance among our foreign born Hath been the hotbed whence this thistle grew, And that our Governor did get his boost Into the forum through that rotten host Which proudly boasts a "Tammany" as its god. And do the people of our Empire State Evolve the doctrine which I loud proclaimed? No! in the dire extremity they laid Restraining hand upon the venal mob, Sternly refusing "what they know they want" But now strong opposition draws the veil, And I behold, to me, the starting fact, That human minds oft vain illusions hug Which time alone hath pow'r that grasp to loose; And only then through friction with the world Will freedom from provincial slavery And mental lassitude be e'er attained. When I my glorious deeds with savage tribes Did iterate before the gaping throng, It seemed to me as to the schoolboy raw That ne'er before had such superb exploits E'er been achieved by knightly mortal man. But now 'tis said my predecessor wrought Like wounders in a less ostentious way And mine are but a copy of his acts. Within my brain indeed are many wheels That heretofore have whirled me into place, But they ne'er buzzed the fact that in these Isles Abode Americans who dare to speak In plain derision of officials high; Forsooth, I dreamed they at the public trough Did feed; but, lo! an army, small but brave, Hath thrown its skirmishers into the field And offered battle with a cold disdain That maketh chills run down my weakening spine And causeth question whether my defy Was born from Wisdom's or from Folly's womb. Quick in my logic's dome where thought doth dwell Those wheels whirled out these brilliant, burning words: "These varlets have no place within these Isles And quick should speed them to their native land;" But mem'ry doth recall the "pine-tree" wilds Where fate decreed that I should have my birth, Only to later bid me wander forth And seek asylum in the "Empire State." Indeed, it seems that in man dwells a force That doth impel adventure from the spot Where nature willed that he should ope an eye In childish wonder at God's handiwork: So here again I, like to hair spring gun In careless hand, went off, alas, "half cocked," And now I fear to ope my babbling mouth Lest I should put my clumsy foot therein.

COUNT LUIE: My honest frend, for so I speak thee fair, Since thou hast from thy shoulders ever cast That damning cloak, Republican in woof. And armor of Democracy hast donned, Fear not that words so deep an import bear. The mob applauds today, but quick forgets. I once, before we kenned our party's stand, Did lightly tongue imperialistic thoughts. The throng did loud applaud my eloquence, Which made demand that Filipinos here Should be debarred, when they procession form, From proudly marching 'neath their flag of state. And now my tender bowels do me gripe As I reflect that this tyrannic act Runs counter to the doctrines thou dost teach, Because, you bet, "they know just what they want."

SIR WINDBAG: But will the rabble not thy words recall, And like to mud, flung from the grutter deep, Will they not sore disfigure and besmirch Thy reputation for consistency?

COUNT LUIE: Fear not; we who do ornament the bar Can twist and turn as doth the shuttle-cock, And in our mouths today words have a ring Which changes with tomorrow's rising sun.

SIR WINDBAG: I quick discern the import of thy speech, And in the past have seen it verified. If mem'ries of the people were not short, Disaster to us patriots would befall. When like a parson one can slip the tongue And speed it like a race-horse on its course, 'Tis well; but let some ill-bred boor Bold interruption make, in query's form, The discourse of its symmetry is shorn, While bond of sympathy 'twixt him who speaks And those who list receives a brutral shock, Which doth demand dexterity to soothe. Thus, when I wisdom spouted at the club, A man most pestulent did query put Anent the spreading of our civic rule O'er Moros, if it proved to be the case That they demur and, "knowing what they want," Prefer to rule themselves in custom's groove. I, loyal to the ethics of our craft Tried to becloud the query, and declared That Moros loved the Filipinos well. But this persistent boor did pin me down Until imprudently I answered, "No!" And this unwisdom now doth trouble me.

COUNT LUIE: But, gentle Windbag, these were idle words Which on the record have no place. 'Twere well To quick erase them from the memory: Words only spoken vanish into air.

SIR WINDBAG: Thou dost console me, Luie, and I feel A kindred spirit fills thy giant form; But tell me, from among thy many friends Are hearts that for me beat in sympathy?

COUNT LUIE, _(eying the ceiling):_ Good Windbag, a searching introspection Finds but few, excepting only those Who office hold or look with longing eyes For vacancies the future may disclose.

SIR WINDBAG: But when "the Man of God" his voice doth raise In ecstasy to praise my every word, Will not his former flock follow the bell Which in the past hath led to pastures green?

COUNT LUIE: Alas, I fear their memories will point To former words, which voiced another song, When he did nurse at theologic teat And softly chant imperialistic creed.

SIR WINDBAG, _(eagerly):_ But may not my convincing words have caused Conversion to the views of "Era New?"

COUNT LUIE, _(doubtfully):_ 'Twere wiser to ascribe his recent "flop" To strong desire to hold a paying job!

SIR WINDBAG: But this Sandixo seems a proper man, Who boasts a heart welling with gratitude. He eloquent approved my every word, And lays his duty wholly at my feet. His words do ring as from an honest mould, Yet rumor whispers divers ugly tales. Thou knowest how his record truly reads: How far should confidence extend her hand?

COUNT LUIE, _(hesitatingly):_ Friend Windbag, if to thee I ope my heart, 'Twere in strict confidence 'twixt man and man For publication I would loud proclaim "This man a patriot with noble aims." If for opinion private thou dost ask, I will a tale unfold much to the point. One Quezox, holding now a place of pow'r, With tongue of silver did to me extend A promise to advance my ev'ry plan For preferment to an exalted place. Alas! he turned me down with sweet disdain. Eating his words, whilst I did gulp down "crow."

SIR WINDBAG: Ah Ha! I see! The game, not fairly played, Doth lose its zest, and confidence once lost, Like to a maiden's virtue, ne'er can be Restored. 'Tis sad, yet though 'tis sad, 'tis true. But, honored sir, the hint you give will keep. Perhaps this man may look with greedy eye Upon some high official post, which we Must give because "he knows just what he wants."

COUNT LUIE: But softly, friend, if this thy doctrine be, 'Twere best to pack thy grip and ready stand To get thee hence; for in these lovely Isles There be not seats of honor to go round.

SIR WINDBAG: Ha! Think you this politico aspires To _me_ supplant _my_ important post?

COUNT LUIE: A royal flush; he doth, for in time past, 'Neath Aguinaldo, he that chair did fill!

SIR WINDBAG: But tell me, is this not a pliant race Which skilful hand may at its pleasure mould?

COUNT LUIE: 'Tis said the serpent warming on the breast With sting doth ever show its gratitude!

SIR WINDBAG: Thou by enigma seemingly imply That all our labors here are but in vain. Methought within thy heart dwelt confidence In the ability of this proud race To guide their ship of state on troubled seas, And trim its sails to meet each threat'ning storm. But now thy cynicism breeds a fear That thy past words do bear "Pickwickian sense."

COUNT LUIE: Sir Windbag, thou unto our party grand Art but a convert new, and needs must learn That platforms are the Bible which we read, And to them we do blindly pin our faith. If one has doubts, he, like a Christian true, Must stifle them and reason throw aside, 'Tis thus we from the Sunny South do act, When facts run counter to our party creed.

SIR WINDBAG: Alas! I in my innocence did deem The words you uttered in the last campaign Did true portray the situation here, But now I fear they were but party gush. But, ah! "The pen is mightier than the sword." These venomed quills must be from porcupine; For deeper do they bore, as I reflect That I invited all their smarting wounds. I sought to give their idol Worcester but His proper place by "damning with faint praise;" And now they prod me as the muleteer Doth goad his jackass when he thoughtless brays.

COUNT LUIE: But, sir, remember that the ass can kick, And that when kicking, asses never bray, So gird your armor on and lop each head Who hath at your dilemma dared to scoff.

SIR WINDBAG: But Riggs! he hath in beaten trail proclaimed What the old regimen hath always mouthed. While I the "Era New" did bold announce, And now my head is crowned with pricking thorns.

COUNT LUIE, (_reflectively_): Thine adversaries, though at vantage now, Should be subdued by strategy and guile. I from sore strait triumphant did emerge Through trenchant pen of a compatriot. This noble scion of Democracy Did wield a telling blow in my behalf And thrust the adversary 'neath the rib, Laying him low in controversial dust.

SIR WINDBAG, (_eagerly_): His name? his name? that I may quick engage This champion to bolster up my cause.

COUNT LUIE, (_whispers mysteriously_): He is but small in stature, but, ye goods, His valor fits his name, which is, La Mutt.

AN IMAGINARY OFFICIAL CONSULTATION

Dramatis Personae

_Francos:_ . . . . . _High Cockalorum._ _Sir Higgs:_ . . . . _First High Councillor._ _Sir Henmart:_ . . . _Second Councillor._ _Sir Windbag:_ . . . _Third Councillor._

_Scene: Official Residence._

FRANCOS: I greet thee, gentlemen, to conclave sweet. Wisdom hath whispered in mine willing ear That we uncumbered by the darker tint Of those who meet us at official board Could better sound the depths of special woes Which daily do beset us as we toil With earnest hearts to boost the public weal By filling vacant posts with Democrats!

SIR WINDBAG: But, Francos, list; a more disturbing mob, Whose crop is filled with discord and contempt, On which they daily feed, I ne'er have sized. 'Twere well to laws enact to hold in curb These brainless cubs who wield a pricking quill And words indite with vitriol for an ink, Which burns the meaning into quiv'ring brain And leaveth scars which time can ne'er efface. A son of Erin in official place Did eulogize my effort at the club; And I, elated, loaned it to the press For publication if the writer willed; But scruples seemed to fill his vacuous mind, Hence it was hidden from the public gaze. Now it hath disappeared, and Rumor saith 'Tis to be published in a stealthy way. Zounds! 'tis enough to cause the blood to course Like mercury adown the burning veins. Could I but lay my eager hands upon The thiefly neck, I'd wring it with good zest.

FRANCOS: But, Windbag; why didst thou thy tongue unloose, And set it wagging vaporings and froth? Thou mightest have known the foe didst ready stand To thrust thy words adown thy choking throat. Imprudence on its shoulders ever bears A burden which may crush its author down; 'Twere best to keep the pen in constant leash, For, words, indited not, work little harm.

SIR WINDBAG: But softly, Sire, Thy record is not clean, If but tradition wears a truthful garb. Plug hats and coats of a latest Tammany style And "pleasure saturnine" did figure cut When first thy mouth did voice the burning thoughts That trickled from a brain much overwrought By meditation on conditions here Which bore so heavy on this downtrod race.

FRANCOS: Alas! 'tis true. Indoctrined by the words So eloquently voiced by one who long Hath dwelt within this city, where before The bar he wondrous reputation gained, I waited not to form a judgment sound, But leaning on a faith of fiction born, Awoke to find selfseeking underneath Each silver work this vampire spouted forth.

SIR WINDBAG: Francos, indeed thou hast my sympathy For this fat prophet wore an honest mien So that e'en I who boast a subtile brain Did fall before his wordy blandishments. 'Tis well! we then are quits. But why this call? What matter of great import draws us here?

FRANCOS: _(to Windbag)_ The welfare of our party is at stake. "Our" is the word, for thou the Rubicon Hast crossed, and henceforth--lest thou bolt again-- Deep in our councils, e'er thy duty calls.

SIR HIGGS: Most honored sirs, why this entanglement? Both, through the want of deep experience, Have, as the sacred writer once did say, "Over the whiffle trees foolishly kicked."

SIR HENMART: Ha, Ha! Sir Higgs, the Bible saith not so! But but let it pass. We politicians read The party platform more than sacred word, And make it standard for our daily lives.

FRANCOS: But, sirs, the matter pertinent this hour Involves the honor of our party's name. When first I reached these shores, one Seldonskip, As scrivener, did bear me company. Alas! he captive fell to woman's wiles And with a former gallant measured arms Hence I was forced, if peace were to be kept, To send him "kiting" to his distant home. This strippling came of Democratic stock, Hence, to protect our party from dire shame, I tried to keep the cause of his deport A secret close, within official halls. But emissaries from the spying press Did quick discern the matter and did blaze It on the pages of their various sheets And point with scorn at Democratic worth!

SIR HENMART: But, Sire, 'tis in the past, and what have we To do with fool gyratings of this callow youth? In Kansas we do low within the grave Deep bury memories that prove unkind.

FRANCOS: Ah, sir, thy words deep meaning ever bear, And if the past were all I'd bid it sleep. But now a new distemper hath appeared; For one who was selected for his worth And whom I boasted as a model man, Within whose veins did course a newer blood, Hath fool-like fallen on his knees before The goddess Venus, and to Bacchus fell A willing victim; while his babbling mouth Did spew dire boastings of official pull, While Folly's goblet filled unto the brim Slopped over, when in wordy contest, he With _green_-winged parrot did engage, and fain Its neck would there have wrung because its hue Proclaimed not sympathy with those who bear The orange flag when they procession make! The guardsmen of the peace should ever soar On wings of probity and moral worth As Erin's Isle had furnished many such I deemed I'd found a jewel in the rough; But when there trickled through the spying press A literary effort from his pen, Wherein he said a woman "clumb" a wall My faith in his attainments quick did fade.

SIR HIGGS: But, Sire, this dire misfortune comes in trail Of boosting all who wear the party tag. If I should speak the promptings of my heart, 'Twould to be give this fool a parting kick.

SIR WINDBAG: But there be may in this bristling mob Who slur at all who from proud Caesar's hand Have gladly licked the crumbs his bounty gave To soothe the hunger of his starving host.

FRANCOS: Ha! Thou hast hit the nail upon the head, These bumpkins must not have a new made food For laughter at our misadventure here, Hence it were wise to send this fellow off As if he in the path of duty treads. Nor must we breathe but that his quick return Will fill expectant hearts with honest joy, Thus may we darken shades of memory.

SIR HENMART: But did this officer a contest wage, With her whose heart went out unto her bird?

FRANCOS: What! hast thou heard, on wings of rumor borne, This matter in full detail free discussed?

SIR HIGGS: Sir, 'tis but common chatter on the streets. And naught can hide it from the public gaze.

FRANCOS: Alas, there is one remedy in view We all must strong denial ever make. Oh, that one of the scum so strong entrenched Had by his conduct rendered me a chance! I would his vileness on the nonce have voiced, But now 'twere best to cloud this matter well.

SIR HIGGS: Methinks this scuttling goes too far by half In ousting tried officials from their posts. 'Twere wise to zeal politic well repay, But still, efficiency should ever bring Reward. And this, indeed, involves us all, For dire distempers in the tropics breed: Hence it were best to kindly caution woo.

FRANCOS: Sir Higgs, indeed thou ever reasonst well. Sore ills encompass us on every side And now do pests my happy home invade, Bearing dire fevers on their pigmy wings, Alas, the song they sing rejoiceth that Efficient doctors, who did battle wage Against them, are removed and in their place Incompetents installed. Indeed, their stings Convincing plea do ever make that we Should quick return to paths trodden before And wage crusade against the swarming pests Until their songs are legends of the past.

SIR WINDBAG: But hold, sweet Francos: did not God design That e'en the insect should his life enjoy? Indeed, his joyous song of gratitude Doth only cease that he may puncture make To meet requirements which God hath ordained. Hence it were well to nature's laws obey, For e'en this insect, as it wings its way, Hath fond desire, and "_knows just what it wants_."

FRANCOS, SIR HIGGS and HENMART (_in concert:_) Oh Rats! Rats!! Rats!!!

A COUNCIL OF WAR

Dramatis Personae

_Francos_ . . . . . _High Cockalorum._ _Sir Henmart_ . . . _Vice Cockalorum._ _Sir Higgs_ . . . . _Councillor._ _Sir Windbag_ . . . _Councillor._ _Col. Toady_ . . . _Grand Enumerator._

_Scene: Executive Chamber._

FRANCOS: Ah! woe is me, my gentle councillors. Again has treason shown its slimy head; And from its source, I fear me, it doth bode But ill to us, who God's anointed are. If pedagogues may raise disdainful voice And gross abuse on the elect bestow Can safety from vituperation vile From out this rotten mob be e'er assured?

SIR HENMART: Good Francos, as this matter emanates From out the sphere of my prerogative, I feel a special sorrow doth becloud The sunny pathway which I late have trod. I find it difficult to blaze my way; The competent among my teaching corps Are those who dare opinions firm to form; If loyalty alone shall be test, 'Twill leave us but a small unthinking host, And then efficiency will find its grave Within the tomb of our official rage.

SIR WINDBAG: But Caesar grieveth that his mighty star, Which in the human firmament doth shine So brightly that it lighteth up the world, Should be bespattered by this inky mud.

COL. TOADY: Ah, it were sacrilege to thus befoul The mighty soul whose penetration deep Hath by selection brought this galaxy Of excellence to lead this groping state In paths which lead to freedom and to pow'r.

SIR HIGGS: Alas, 'twas ever thus. I, in the past, Have suffered from the pricks of nagging quills, And all who mount aloft on fortune's wing Must bear with ripe philosophy such ills.

FRANCOS: But loyalty! In Tammany I learned That duty meek, subservient, should mark The underlings, who but a stairway make By which capacity doth climb to pow'r. Efficiency! it were an idle word, And rings not soundly on politic ear; Obedience, the watchword e'er should be. To do and not to think we must demand. The welfare of our party e'er should be Our slogan even in this wilderness; And he who doth as critic act a part Should quickly feel the headsman's shining blade.

SIR WINDBAG: But, sire, from signs I read on every hand If such a policy were long pursued We must import from out our native land More Loyal Democrats, who longing wait To most efficiently infuse "new blood" Where now stagnation makes the veins turn blue.

COL. TOADY: Right, right you are! I know an anxious host Who long have languished from the want of pap, And once were they turned loose, the energy So long stored up would vivify this state, But this fool civil service bars the way-- It should be thrust aside for party's good.

FRANCOS: Thy words do to my willing ear appeal, But our politic foes are strong entrenched, While mockish sentiment doth strongly point To danger, if we cast the scoundrels out.

COL. TOADY: But, sire, in Washington they work a plan Which, while it seems to vindicate the law, Roots out the vermin by _demoting_ them, And thus our Southern veterans find a place.

SIR HIGGS: But, friends, doth prudence warrant such a step? Already inefficiency doth creep Into each bureau till our revenues Do warning give that we must now beware.

SIR WINDBAG: But, gentlemen, our salaries are sure; If needs must be, cut down and slyly pare Along the line where least resistance lies, And on our predecessors throw the blame.

FRANCOS: But Caesar an accounting will demand Should this frail craft be wrecked or run aground, For he doth wish to cast it soon adrift With crew well drilled to threatening shoals avoid.

SIR HIGGS: Here wisdom surely speaks in trumpet tones, And hence we must adventure wisely make To guide the vessel on its way with care And launch it as a well-manned sturdy craft; Then, whatsoe'er befalls them, we can wash Our hands, for they by importunity Most strong, will then have ventured on the cruise In unknown seas where dangers dark do dwell.

COL. TOADY: Ha! well we know the course the ship will take With men of color standing at the helm; But let them reap the tares which they have sown, We care not if they cut each other's throats.

SIR WINDBAG: But, gentle sir, if they desire to war, Why should we hinder such a sportive game? They own those isles, and why should we debar Them pastimes, for "they know just what they want."

FRANCOS: But, sirs, we wander from the vital point. I called this conclave to impress with force The import great of sifting from our ranks Those evil-minded men, whose loyalty Is doubtful, and may bring lasting reproach Upon our policies, and thus besmirch The reputation of that Jove-like pair That rules the destiny of our great state.

COL TOADY: Ha, thou hast said! In all the universe, No other souls, like these, can quick discern Great worth combined with mental attributes Which qualify for high official place: When in these isles a census must be made Their eagle eyes discerned my hiding place And then perceiving qualities most rare Demanded that I serve the public weal!

SIR HENMART: And me! Hid in my happy prairie home, They tore me thence, all for the nation's good!

SIR WINDBAG (_striking his manly breast_): I, too, inherent qualities possess Which caused those mental eyes to hunt me out!

FRANCOS: But, gentlemen, this state is honeycombed With treason dark unto the pow'rs that be. Even our party men, with cold disdain, Look on our policy with covert sneer. Some few there are who grovel in the mire, But most deport themselves with silent mien; These should be watched, and when the moment comes Where opportunity her hand extends, We should her aid accept, and lop those heads Which placed on shoulders square with spine erect Dare in the privacy of social life To breathe disloyalty to us who rule.

SIR WINDBAG: Ah, sire, sweet music to mine ears thy words Do make. Within my university Some loyal souls have in epistles sweet Breathed loyalty. Such should the passport be. And if this document cannot be shown It were sure proof that in the rebel heart Treason doth lurk and only hides its head To firmly hold position, at our hands.

FRANCOS: But, Windbag, dost thou not perceive that the Vile press, which here opinion seems to form, Would placard on its pages with great glee That civil service hath been swept aside? No! we must, with the Indian's guile, our track Cover insinuatingly, and wise. But vigilance should be our slogan now That we may spy out each disloyal rogue.

COL. TOADY: This civil service is a brittle shield When pure Democracy doth wield the sword, And were it strong, the rebel that it guards Can be unhorsed by stabbing in the back.

FRANCOS: O happy thought! within my secret heart I long have cherished it. Now to your posts-- And for the conflict buckle on the sword. Disloyalty to Tinio avenge!

SIR HIGGS: While I'll take little part in this crusade, Still it doth pleasure me most mightily When I reflect that every head lopped off Affords much joy to some good Democrat. 'Twere wise to little say unto the mob For it each idle word will subtile twist, But smile, and smile, yet keep the guillotine Well oiled and ready for its cleaning work.

_All sing with great gust except Sir Higgs who beats time with a baton presented by the Secretary of War:_

"We're living in a hotbed of sedition; These "rats" have been infected by tradition. If we can't smoke them out And give our friends a place, We'll plug the rat holes up And thus we'll save our face, Hence we must wage the battle stern and hearty; These posts must serve as flagstaffs for our party."

ALL SHOUT: "Hip, Hip, Hurrah! Hip, Hip, Hurrah!! Hip, Hip, Hurrah!!! and a Tammany Tiger!"

OLD FOGY.

A SOLEMN CONCLAVE

Dramatis Personae

_Ilustrados_ _Representatives_ _Count Luie_ _Tightwad Twins_ _A Band of Minstrels_

_Scene: A Garden Bower_

A MINSTREL SINGS: The day hath shed its gauzy veil of light, As evening's sable gown usurps its place. Hear the night bird sweetly singing While through space her way she's winging, Melody she's gaily flinging Peace and joy with twilight bringing If Care's dull day, while beck'ning to the night, Hath us depressed let Joy now show his face.

FIRST ILUSTRADO: Son of Arion, from Castalia's fount Where melody divine doth bubble forth, Thou must thy thirst have slaked with copious drafts For gods alone inspire such sounds divine.

SECOND GENTLEMAN OF STATE: 'Twere well the cares of day to toss aside And welcome evening's quiet with a smile, But we who here in solemn conclave meet Can squander moment few to court the Muse; Stern duty calls, and to each patriot ear 'Tis music sweet, to which he quick responds, Then to the council board let us repair And these the mysteries of state evolve.

FIRST REPRESENTATIVE: Time swiftly flies with heading on her wings. From out the eastern skies where Caesar dwells, The lightnings flash reports that should rejoice Each loyal heart within this island realm. Soon, senators with dignity enrobed Will grace the halls of our enfranchised state, And then the padlock which our lips now close Shall like a useless toy to be cast side. Then can we voice unto the list'ning world Those noble aspirations long confined Lest their frank utterance should work us ill And closer seal the bonds which hold us fast. For, what concessions our oppressors make, Can never be withdrawn; and when they see That folly prompted all, 'twill be in vain, And we can their discomfort laugh to scorn.

SECOND ILUSTRADO: O, for the days when under Spanish rule _Costumbre_ firmly anchored on her throne Disdainfully did innovation block Whene'er it threatened danger to our peace; Then every _tao_ in his wonted place Was taught that sweet contentment with the lot Which his creator had to him assigned Epitome of virtue did proclaim. But now dire discontent doth stalk abroad And with a vitriol tongue disturbance make Through pedagogues, imported from a land Which recognizes not distinction wise.

FIRST ILUSTRADO: Thou hast my thoughts in happy words expressed. When once the _tao_ has his A B C Well hammered in his stupid mulelike skull He ever looks on toil with proud disdain And even for _zapatos_ fondly yearns, While now that Francos hath the fashion set By proclamation as he neared our isles These callow youths may covet stove pipe hats.

SECOND ILUSTRADO: Alas, I fear these happy days when we Can loll in cooling shades while others toil For us, on stipends which like widow's mite Are small: will in the future disappear. These men who prate of slavery in these isles Do know full well that witness false they bear. We buy not souls and on the record place Their names among the chattels which we own, But their life's labor for a certain sum We purchase, when in times of sorry stress They fain prefer it thus, rather than starve; But slavery! The Orient knows it not.

THIRD ILUSTRADO: And usury! 'Tis an offensive word: Our enemies, like arrow from the bow, Are aiming it to pierce our very heart While 'tis a practice which _costumbre_ shields. The slothful servant, so the Good Book says, Was he who in a napkin hid his gold; But he who shrewdly other talents made The Master praised, and to him also gave The unused talent which he wisely took From him who slothfully no effort made To double that which in his care was placed, And thus by usury much wealth amass; Yet the _Americanos_ from this learn No wisdom, but forthwith condemn The teachings of the Savior of Mankind Which we with thrift and energy apply.

FIRST ILUSTRADO: And so again the Bible aptly says That he who careth for his family not Is worse than he who infidelity Doth to his breast with loving arms enfold.

SECOND REPRESENTATIVE: Alas, 'tis innovation they enthrone Within the halls of science where they steal Our trusty dogs to torture in the name Of progress, while our hearts indignant burn.

FIRST ILUSTRADO: Again, in terms opprobrious they mouth Anent our noble elevating sport Where our illustrious citizens do meet And in the cockpit spend a happy hour.

THIRD REPRESENTATIVE: And while we read that patriarchs of old Did revel in the arms of beauty fair, But now when we _queridas_ do embrace Like lions caged _Americanos_ roar: Our customs sacred made by hand of time Are most irrev'rent treated by these men. O, for the day when Spain did rule supreme, For they, the "haughty Dons," did sympathize With us in taste, and in our native sports Joined with a hearty zest which proved them men; But now, where'er we turn, obstacles rise To curb and mar, until our lives seem drear.

SECOND GENTLEMAN OF THE STATE: Alas, our beardless youths seem satisfied With club in hand to pass at fleeting ball Or chase it, monkey-like, in open field Thus throwing dignity unto the winds.

FIRST TWIN: And those who from the hand of Boreas filched Congealment's art, which did _dinero_ put Within their well filled purse, as day by day They fattened on the appetites of those Who loved a cooling draft more than the pelf Which is alas the seed that germinates To form a mighty tree which time enfruits With greed which sours the eager mouth it feeds. We did a statute draw with cunning hand To guard this enterprise of worthy aim, But now the enemy hath broke our guard And Ice a gold mine now no longer is; Hence we must hedge our various rights about With laws, as soon as Jones hath made his play. No Filipino hunts the hills for gold. _Americanos_ show this vulgar greed, And so we'll tax them: _tax them till they squeal_! Then they may in disgust depart this land, While we, just for a song, may gobble up The claims which they so long uncertain sought.

SECOND TWIN: Francos is honest, hence were easy fooled; But we suspicion in his mind must plant. We are but few who hold the purse strings here, And union sweet: we to our aid must call Those who have tarried long within our walls. The saints, be praised, are weak and pow'rless now, For Francos stubbornly disdains them all, And hence our scheming he will ne'er discern.

FIRST TWIN: Well said: the vultures which are nested here Have eyes that cat-like pierce the deepest shades, And were these men in high official place 'Twere vain attempt to work our deep laid plans.

FIRST ILUSTRADO: We long have profit made from rentals high And quiet sat, while, like the cormorant We gulped sweet morsels from their quiv'ring flesh; But soon we must their very forms devour.

FIRST REPRESENTATIVE: But we must ever wear engaging smile While poisoned chalice off'ring to their lips; Hence we should caution woo, lest she doth warn Him who the offered cup would fool-like taste.

_Count Luie: Enter: with fanfare: bowing right and left._

FIRST TWIN: But honor ever should be kept in view-- No spot should tarnish her encircling robe.

COUNT LUIE (_grandiloquently_): But what is honor? 'tis a slip'ry word Which oft is used vile turpitude to hide; She smiles on those who Mount Parnassus climb; On those who fail, she casts disdainful frown. O, fickle world, which kneels before success No matter how its Idol was enthroned! Hence, one to pow'r attain should scruple not, For it were balm which cureth ev'ry ill.

_Great Sensation_

SECOND TWIN: Here speaks a friend of those who do aspire To build a nation from these many isles; His mind doth soar above all selfish thoughts;

_Doubtfully_

But Windbag, at the club, with honeyed tongue Did seem to love the Filipinos well, But when a high official his support Did need, rumor doth says, a scowling face He turned upon him, and he e'en did threat That prosecution might be his stern fate; And had not Francos wisely intervened This noble _Ilustrado_ might e'en now Be close entombed in Bilibid!

FIRST TWIN: But here Americanos showed their hand And were disloyal to their bureau chief: But had escribiente's of our race Unseated been, then all indeed were well.

COUNT LUIE: But, friends, this Windbag is no Democrat-- In school Republican, he hath been trained. That spark divine of loyalty to friends He knoweth not, else he had Francos-like O'erlooked with kindly eye the trifling graft Of scheming for the welfare of his friends. That perquisites of office do allow Much freedom is a Democratic creed.

SECOND ILUSTRADO: But Windbag said they know just what they want And strongly urged that our desires be met.

COUNT LUIE: But friends, he like all converts new, did try To prove his loyalty to his new creed. Those words were only chosen to arraign His predecessors at the homeland bar; Thus politics doth in its various forms Seem quite erratic to the layman's mind. _But trust in ME!_ I from my southern home Have come to dwell in this God-favored land, And when those men have hied them to their homes I still will like a rock breast every wave And on my judgment clear, in state affairs, The grateful Filipinos may depend.

ALL IN CONCERT: Ah, here's a man who boasts a mighty mind That doth compare unto his giant form; Long Live Count Luie! When the tide shall turn Our grateful hearts will hasten his reward.

COUNT LUIE: (_assuming a pose of great dignity_): Thanks, noble friends, my heart with gratitude Doth well, like gutter after April show'r.

_(Aside)_

_It's like taking candy from the baby._

ALL JOIN IN SINGING:

_"THE POLITICO'S ODE"_

_(To the tune that the Old Cow died on)_

_Count Luie hums the air an octave lower with a self-satisfied smile, thinking he is singing bass:_

I.

We Filipinos are a noble race, With aspirations soaring to the sky; The love of country glows on every face, And philanthropic love from every eye. The life God gave, we know how to enjoy; If left alone, 'twere bliss without alloy, But these _Americanos_ come along And try to make us think that right is wrong:

II.

They say we ought to toil from morn till night, And seem to think fiestas are all wrong; They kick because we let our roosters fight. And make Work! Work!! the burden of their song. But why should we be toiling, What need our hands of soiling, While plenteous fruits are growing; With bounteous Nature flowing?

III.

Taft says we are artistic, which is true; We see no need of everlasting toil, Our minds have higher things always in view Than delving in the black and dirty soil. To be assemblymen is our desire, Or, failing that, we want some office high'r. That's why we want th' _Americano_ band Hustled, forthwith, from out our suff'ring land:

IV.

We want America to guard our state, Because we couldn't do it all alone; We want the offices at any rate We'll eat the meat and let them pick the bone While they are us defending; With chicken fights unending We'll pass our days in pleasure; We'll drink from joy's full measure.

A DEMOCRATIC WAKE.

Dramatis Personae

_Count Luie:_ . . . . . _A Democratic Wheel-horse (Toast Master)._ _Sir Obreon:_ . . . . . _A Counsellor._ _Sir La Mutt:_ . . . . _A Literatus._ _Filipino Ilustrados and Politicos._ _Several died-in-the-wool Democrats._

_Scene: Hotel de Francosa._

COUNT LUIE: Noble compatriots, I greet thee well. When war's ensanguined plain in tears of blood Weeps for the fallen in a worthy cause, 'Twere well for us bereaved to sing their praise And thus commemorate their sacrifice. In all great battles, triumph oft doth hinge On questions small, but oft of great import; No matter if the sacrifice be great, So long as victory doth greet our clan. We trembled at the clamours of the mob And feared results, from its prophetic tone; But now we laugh to scorn their idle boasts, For we from out the fleshpots still can feed. And now in concert we would fain rejoice, While mourning for the fallen in the fray. Hence, if some loyal soul can requ'em voice, 'Twere fit and proper in this fun'ral hour. One consolation, disappointment soothes: With fewer numbers in our shattered ranks, Appointments to positions are the same, And so each patriot holds a _flusher hand_.

_(Enthusiastic applause.)_

A DEMOCRAT: But, sire, it were a sacrifice most vain. Had renegades from out our glorious clan Not pictured formerly in public mind That rule Republican indeed were wise. And so dissatisfaction, like to yeast, Deep in the thoughtless mob did swell to burst Because our party purposed to at once Enfranchise this unhappy down-trod race.

SIR OBREON: But should we here our dirty linen air, And so a weapon place in varlet hand? Methinks 'twere wise to bury in the past Those petty broils and bravely forward march.

COUNT LUIE: Ah! it were easy for a looker-on To counsel peace between a man and wife, But were he in the broil himself involved, Philosophy were physic all too weak To cure the wounds made by a rasping tongue, Which time doth canker as the cancer grows Until at last the surgeon with his knife Alone can the distemper dire outroot.

SIR LA MUTT: Count Louie, thou hast voiced my very thought! Traitors who fellowship with filthy graft And find one single virtue in the creed Of these Republicans who long have ruled These Islands with despotic, cruel hand, Until their tyranny doth smell to Heav'n, Indeed should find no place to lay their heads Within the bounds of Democratic fold.

SIR OBREON: Ah, lack-a-day! If thus we fail to rise Above the narrow prejudice whose birth Took place, alas, beneath warm southern skies, Then we must be content to walk the plank When two years hence the people seal our doom. Success, indeed, should be our only aim; Hence bury childish griefs deep in the grave.

A DEMOCRAT: Enough, my friends, enough! But we did come To mingle joy and grief o'er the results That follow combat at the public polls: Grief for the vanquished, joy for party spoils.

SIR LA MUTT: But Sire, why should we mourn for those who fell? Those turncoats of the money-loving North Deserve the fate that traitor e'er should know. We of the South did loyally uphold Our honor in the combat, for but one Did fall before the golden calf, and he Deep in Louisiana's shades did dwell, Where sugar sweet did blind the public eye.

SIR OBREON: And can it be that thou dost not discern That else we from the North do draw support, Our party will, as in the dreary past, From out the pale in vain with hungry eyes Behold our enemies safely entrenched Lapping with greedy tongue successe's broth From out the flesh-pets, which we, fool-like, placed Before them by our squabling party feuds.

COUNT LUIE: Sir Obreon, methinks thy mental grasp Of things politic is indeed but dim. The "Constitution" is a weapon grand. The Democratic party when in war, To closer weld the bonds which held the slave, E'en then did show earnest solicitude Lest the cold-blooded North should not observe That sacred instrument, but it should break By sending men of war from out their states To subjugate us of the knightly South. Our party hath indeed a record grand. Its _flexibility_ to all demands Doth admiration claim from all the world. Today it loud proclaims "sixteen to one;" Tomorrow to the golden calf it kneels. Today those stars we worship in our flag As emblematic of each sovereign state; Tomorrow we demand the "stars and bars" Supplant them as Imperialistic sign.

A DEMOCRAT: But would not that involve the speedy death Of that grand song which we have learned to love, The song which doth demand that those bright stars Shall wave in triumph through the ages long?

COUNT LUIE: Oh we could substitute for it our hymn Which fired paternal hearts in sixty-one; The "Bonny Blue Flag" doth have a smoother ring, Or "Dixy" might supplant the time-worn song!

SIR LA MUTT: Ah "Dixie" were indeed a noble air And caryeth upon its varied strains Our mun'ries back to those embattled days When our forebears did war a vandal host.

A DEMOCRAT (_with wool not deeply dyed_) I fear the people's hearts in northers climes Are wedded to the flag as it did wave When they were battling for the nation's life And ne'er such innovation would approve.

SIR LA MUTT: When we like game-cocks strut and fiercely crow, These men _for sake of peace_ e'er knuckle down Fear not, for we are in the saddle now, And so the charger yieldeth to the spur.

COUNT LOUIE: (_continues earnestly_) And when the debt gigantic which was made To war our fathers till they bit the dust, Matured, our party instinct did invent A method to repudiate the claim By paying greenback printed nice and clean, But which with gold would never be redeemed. Alas! those Yankee soldiers called the bluff And once again encompassed our defeat. While principles unchanging we declare, Yet what, indeed, is it that changeth not? Why, every Democrat should early know That to obtain the offices is but The one unchanging principle at stake, And every effort that we these attain. Should spur us on; like as "Toreador" Doth flaunt his robe to blind unreas'ning eyes, So we the "Constitution" e'er should wave, Attention to distract from tender points Of history which forward not out cause.

SIR LA MUTT: Sir Count, what should we hide from public gaze? I and the President came from a stock Which helped to build a mighty common wealth. 'Tis true, in time of stress our father stood In serried ranks to tear the structure down And on its ruins build a fairer state With negro slavery its cornerstone. Alas! the northern "mudsills" did prevail, And now the white supremacy is held By shrewdly circumventing vicious laws, We Southerners within this tropic clime Do sympathize with these illustr'ous men Who here to night their presence happ'ly lend To join us in our tears and in our joys _(Turning to the Filipinos.)_ We are your friends; Republicans, your foes, For they indeed would raise the tao up And fill his head with notions most unwise, Just as they seek to place on equal terms Our "servants" in the sunny southland clime. There lurks one serpent in our city leal Of whom beware! for he is full of guile. But once when he Count Luie did attack I counter-thrust did give with my deft pen; And though I flayed him in my treachant style, He, being slow of wit, did know it not; And as "Old Fogy" he doth often spout His forthy nonsense in the daily press. But now I speak in no uncertain terms Of our great President; for I and he Are intimates as only those can be We meet on terms of mental equity. Hence trust in me! For I will quick advise Him as to matters in these lovely Isles. Sweet friends, there is a bond which holds us fast: You aimed your guns to riddle that old flag _(Points to the stars and stripes dramatically, drawing up his commanding figure.)_ And while we Democrats it ne'er assailed _(Rises on his toes and with a baseball voice.)_ Yet know ye, that our fathers did the same. _(Great applause by some, others hang their heads.)_

COUNT LOUIE: With gratitude I do at once recall When good La Mutt did to my aid repair. And he so scared mine adversary then That I in pity did not e'en retort. For there are times when with a cold disdain One soars aloft and sees a pigmy not. Twere vain to argue with a half-fledged mind, Thus casting pearls before ignoble swine.

A DEMOCRAT: But victory still sitteth on our perch, And yet we ratify in pensive tones. Let joy now reign, let vain regrets depart, And for small favors thank the God of Hosts.

A REPRESENTATIVE: A good majority sits in the house, Enough to give us independence still, Then what eventuates _without our land_ We care not so we grasp the reigns of state.

COUNT LOUIE: After refreshments (_smacks his lips_) we will then adjourn, And if some Southern gentleman desires, We will repair unto a private room And in a game of poker spend the night, Thus celebrating in a proper way A victory indeed of doubtful cast. But to our joy affix a deep regret, For that proud list of eighty warring knights Who fell with faces always to the front Yet ready stand to wage anew the fight Whene'er their ears close to their mother earth Shall hear the call to office once again. _(Reflectively.)_ For once a politician wins the race, He like an warhorse smells the battle far And to his dying day doth live in hope That grateful country may make its demand. _(Close by singing an ode to the air; "Hark, from the Tomb a Doleful Sound")_ Sleep! martyrs, sleep! till resurrection morn, When sounding trump shall call to office sweet; Republicans may grin with silent scorn, But we like hungry pigs still smell the teat.

FINIS

Transcriber's Note (continued), and Errata

Transcriber's Note:

There has been a suggestion that this book may have been self-published; the style and layout are not necessarily consistent. Some of the round brackets (stage directions) are italicised, along with their contents; others are not. Different fonts were used for headings, and there were a couple of letters which were not the same font or size as the rest of the word. There was even one letter 'o' which appeared to be upside down, or, perhaps, a mirror-image.

Italic words or phrases are enclosed in _ and _. (An _italic phrase_. _This is an italic sentence._)

Errata--old typos:

I have corrected only the blatantly obvious old typos; less obvious ones I have retained. (e.g. 'They', which could be 'Thy'; 'Tis', which should be ''Tis'; 'Twere', which is sometimes ''Twere'; 'gentlement' (for whatever reason ...); Dissapoint, for disappoint; 'Oposing' for 'Opposing' (well, maybe he couldn't spell). )

Page 21: 'showly' corrected to 'slowly'. (Seldonskip walks slowly on.)

Page 22: 'throug' corrected to 'throng'. ('Tis thus I guard this weakling from the throng.)

Page 26: corrected 'solt' to 'soft'. (... soft words clothed with a smile.)

Page 28: 'Freeding on coconuts'...: [sic]

Page 28: 'He'd mightyq uick' corrected to 'He'd mighty quick'.

Page 29: comma corrected to period. (Secretary of the Governor.)

Page 29: corrected 'sometinies' to 'sometimes'. (But sometimes action swift doth breed regreet; [sic])

Page 31: 'bo' corrected to 'be'. (... to be obeyed.)

Page 35: 'Genileman' corrected to 'Gentleman' (1st Gentleman (indignant))

Page 35: ',dukes" corrected to "dukes". (... put up your "dukes" ...)

Page 35: 'whspers' corrected to 'whispers'. (2nd Gentleman (whispers))

Page 40: 'conncil' corrected to 'council'; 'behin' corrected to 'behind'; 'ot' corrected to 'of'.

Page 42: 'gallanthy' corrected to 'gallantly'.

Page 44: 'monlder' corrected to 'moulder'.

Page 45: 'crat' [sic] ... error for 'craft'? or, possibly, the generic suffix used as a noun (e.g. bureaucrat)?

Page 45: 'bath' corrected to 'hath'. (... for it hath no ground).

Page 48: 'ef' corrected to 'of'. (... the mystery of being ...).

Page 49: 'wiht' corrected to 'with'. (With energy).

Page 49: 'Seene' corrected to 'Scene'. (Scene II).

Page 49: 'Mest' corrected to 'Most'. (Most noble Sire ...).

Page 50: 'eacn' corrected to 'each'. (... each important loss ...).

Page 50: 'Franco' corrected to 'Francos'.

Page 50: comma corrected to period. (... without the door.)

Page 51: 'May grind us all between it cruel cogs' [sic] its?

Page 52: 'ffll' corrected to 'fill'. (Revenge shall fill the goblet ... ).

Page 52: 'wolds' corrected to 'words'. (... those words so apt.).

Page 52: 'aud' corrected to 'and'. (... embrace and retire.).

Page 53: 'erafty' corrected to 'crafty'. (the crafty hands).

Page 54: 'looso' corrected to 'loose'.

Page 54: 'io' corrected to 'to'. (... who dare to speak).

Page 54: 'wounders' [sic].

Page 55: 'rund' corrected to 'run'. (... run down my weakening spine).

Page 55: 'men'ry' corrected to 'mem'ry'. (But mem'ry doth recall ...).

Page 55: 'adverturc' corrected to 'adventure'. (... doth impel adventure from the spot).

Page 55: 'Good's' corrected to 'God's'. (In childish wonder at God's handiwork:)

Page 55: 'imperialistsc' corrected to 'imperialistic'. (... imperialistic thoughts.)

Page 60: 'goods' [sic] error?, or deliberate? (... but, ye goods/gods,).

Page 64: " corrected to ' ('Twould to be give ...).

Page 76: 'opprobious' corrected to 'opprobrious'. (in terms opprobrious they mouth).

Page 76: 'Amevicanos' corrected to 'Americanos'. (Like lions caged _Americanos_ roar)

Page 80: 'nuending' corrected to 'unending' (With chicken fights unending).

Page 81: 'Democratric' corrected to 'Democratic' (A Democratic Wake)

Page 82: 'Louile' corrected to 'Luie'. (COUNT LUIE:).

Page 82: 'to' corrected to 'too'. (Philosophy were physic all too weak ...).

Page 82: 'Oreron' corrected to 'Obreon'. (SIR OBREON:)

Page 83: 'successe's' [sic].

Page 83: 'flesh-pets' corrected to 'flesh-pots'. (From out the flesh-pots ...).

Page 83: 'slaim' corrected to 'claim'. (Doth admiration claim from all the world.).

Page 84: 'Whem' corrected to 'When' (When our forebears did war a vandal host.).

Page 84: comma corrected to period. (And ne'er such innovation would approve.)

Page 86: 'dails' corrected to 'daily'. (... in the daily press.).