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. [Illustration] A SOLEMN CONCLAVE Dramatis Personae _Ilustrados_ _Representatives_ _Count Luie_ _Tightwad Twins_ _A Band of Minstrels_ _Scene: A Garden Bower_