The sacred writ doth tell of one who sat Upon the judgment seat to justice serve, And when a widow's importuning sore Did him annoy, to ease his troubled mind, He listened to her tale and justice gave, Fearing her sighs and tears, else ne'er would cease. Hence I must close mine ear lest eager plaints Should move my tender heart to grant his plea. _(Enter muchacho, speacks:)_ Most noble Senor, at the door do stand Three gentlemen whose color doth demand Cognition, hence I bade them patient wait While I acquaint thee of their anxious quest. _Quezox:_ Thou sayest well; go bid them enter here, And then refreshments serve, at my command. _Muchacho:_ Si, Senor, si; I grape juice will prepare, _Quezox:_ Hold! These are men with red blood in their veins, Hence wine were fitting bev'rage for their needs, With cigarettes and black cigars galore, For we may lengthen speech till morning's sun Shall bid the anxious night give place to day. _(Enter Gentlemen)_ _Quezox (with outstretched hands):_ Senores, ye I greet! All that is here is yours. 'Tis said the walls have ears, hence it were wise To make this trellised bow'r our council house. For here no spy can crouch behind a screen And through his ears store up our treasured thoughts. But let us to the point, which magnet-like Did so resistless draw thee to this place To problem solve which doth much thought require. _1st Gentleman:_ Good Quezox, tell us, doth our plan seem ripe? And can we trust this Governor to do Our will, when Carpen shall be ousted from The nest in which he snuggles restfully? _2d Gentleman:_ The question were most apt, for we would name Him who shall hold the secrets of the state. _3d Gentleman:_ And sanitation! Should we not declare For one of our own blood, whose sympathy Doth bind him to our customs which we love And so uproot the follies of the past? _Quezox:_ Senores, we as serpents must be wise. To quick reveal all hidden in our hearts Would long delay the time of which we dream; Hence we must center now on Carpen's case Our every energy and clear the path Of one who ever wields a mighty pow'r, And his fat place on one we trust, bestow, For thus we breach shall make within the wall. To speak of sanitation were unwise For Francos, in his heart, a mighty dread Doth feel, lest microbes in his castle hide; And so distempers of most deadly forms Engender; and great trust doth he repose