LOVEYET. That's more than I can say, Thomas, for I'm sure 'tis strange to hear so many people praise this same new Constitution, as it is call'd.--Has the _New-York Journal_ been brought to-day? THOMAS. Yes, sir. [_Fetches the newspaper._ LOVEYET. Look if it contains anything worth reading, Thomas; anything in behalf of the good old cause. THOMAS. Yes, sir, here's something will suit your honour's notion to a hair. [_Offers it to LOVEYET._ LOVEYET. No, Thomas, do you read it,--I'm afraid I shall cast my eyes upon something that's on the other side of the question; some wicked consolidation scheme or another. THOMAS. Why, you know, sir, there's never anything in this paper but what's on your side of the question. LOVEYET. True, true; by my body, you're right enough, Tom.--I forgot that: but never mind; since you've got the paper, do you read it. THOMAS. He only wants me to read, because he can't see to do it himself,--he's almost as blind as a bat, and yet he won't use spectacles for fear of being thought old. [_Aside._ LOVEYET. Come, Thomas, let's have it,--I'm all ears to hear you. THOMAS. 'Tis a pity you have not a little more eyesight and brains along with your ears. [_Aside._] [_Reads._] "Extract of a letter from a gentleman in Boston, dated February the third, 1788.--Our convention will pass the federal government by a considerable majority: The more it is examined, the more converts are made for its adoption. This you may rely on." LOVEYET. 'Tis a cursed lie.--Why, why, you confounded scoundrel, do you mean to ridicule your master? THOMAS. I ask pardon, sir; I thought it was the _New-York Journal_; but I see it is Mr. Child's _Daily Advertiser_. LOVEYET. A plague on his aristocratic intelligence!--Begone, you vile foe to American Liberty, or I'll-- [_Exit THOMAS._ _Enter TRUEMAN._ What, my friend Trueman! well, what's the news, eigh? TRUEMAN. I have not learn'd a single monosyllable, sir. LOVEYET. Nothing concerning this same Constitution there is so much talk about, friend Horace? A miserable Constitution, by the bye. If mine was no better,--ugh, ugh, ugh,--I say, if--ugh, ugh, if my constitution was no better than this same political one, I solemnly swear, as true as I am this day, man and boy, two score and three years, five months, eleven days, six hours, and, and,--[_Pulling out his watch._] fifty-nine minutes old; why, I--I--I would,--I don't know what I wou'd not do. Ugh, ugh. TRUEMAN. Mr. Loveyet, you run on in such a surprising manner with your narrations, imprecations, admirations, and interrogations, that, upon my education, sir, I believe you are approaching to insanity, frenzy, lunacy, madness, distraction,--a man of your age--