TOUPEE. Pardonnez moy, monsieur. I hope it not be any intrusion; par dieu, I will not frize dat Jantemon à la mode Paris no more, becase he vas fronte me. TRUEMAN. What's the matter, Mr. Toupee? TOUPEE. I vill tella your honare of the fracas. I vas vait on monsieur a--choses, and make ma compliment avec beaucoup de grace, ven monsieur vas read de news papier; so I say, is your honare ready for be dress? De great man say, "No--, d--n de barbare." [_In a low voice._] I tell de parsone, sare, I have promise 'pon honare for dress one great man vat is belong to de Congress, 'bout dis time, sans manquer: De ansare vas (excuse moy, monsieur), "go to h-ll, if you be please; I must read 'bout de Constitution." Dis is de ole affair, monsieur, en verité. LOVEYET. Sixty-three, indeed! Heaven forbid! But if I was so old, my constitution is good; age is nothing, the constitution is all,--ugh, ugh, ugh. TOUPEE. Sare, you vill give me leaf, vat is dat Constitution? LOVEYET. Hold your prating, you booby. TOUPEE. You booby,--Vat is dat booby, I vonder! TRUEMAN. Ha, ha, a good constitution! With great propriety did the man ask you what constitution you meant. Ha, ha, ha. TOUPEE. Par Dieu, monsieur de Schoolmastare sall larn a me vat is de booby! oui, an de Constitution,--foy d'Homme d'Honneur. TRUEMAN. What a figure for a sound constitution! ha, ha. LOVEYET. Ugh, hang you for an old simpleton! Talk of _my_ age and constitution.--Ugh, ugh, ugh. [_Exit._ TRUEMAN. Fractious old blockhead! TOUPEE. Blockhead! Pourquoi you call a mine head von block, sare? TRUEMAN. I mean that old curmudgeon who goes hobbling along there, like a man of forty. TOUPEE. Pardonnez moy, monsieur; S'il vous plaît, ve make de éclaircissement, if you tell me vat is de interpretation--you booby. TRUEMAN. What! have you the effrontery to call me a booby? S'death, you scoundrel, what do you mean? TOUPEE. Vous ne m'entendez pas. [_Hastily._ TRUEMAN. Do you threaten me, you insignificant thing? Do you call me names? TOUPEE. Diable! me no stand under your names. TRUEMAN. Zounds and fury! I am raving. Must I bear to be abus'd in this manner, by a vile Tonsor? TOUPEE. Yes, you Schoolmastare; you tell me vat be you booby. TRUEMAN. Pertinacious, audacious reptile! [_Canes TOUPEE._ TOUPEE. Ah, mon dieu! mon dieu! [_Runs off._ TRUEMAN. To insult a professor of Orthography, Analogy, Syntax, and Prosody! SCENE II. _A Street._ _Enter YOUNG LOVEYET._