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.