that distance cannot smother, and will clean
The halls of state, and there implant true men.
_Caesar:_ And silence! speak nor write not idle words,
For they are often swords which cleave the soul;
When enemies who wield a cunning hand
Shall thrust them back, and laugh in gleeful scorn.
E'en I regret what in an idle hour,
I thoughtless paged regarding freedom's gift.
And now they sting me, sting me to the soul.
Oh that I ne'er had penned such childish thoughts!
Hence hold thy tongue or honeyed words proclaim
Which may mean little or perchance mean much.
And now farewell, and hie thee on thy way:
Again I say a padlock on thy tongue.
_Quezox and Francos moving backward, and making obeisances._
Adieu, most noble Caesar, since the time
When Washington first donned the regal crown.
We'll smoke the woodchucks out and tan their hides
And parchment make, on which, in words of gold,
Shall be inscribed, so all the world may read:
"Saturnine pleasure it to us doth give,
To see them walk the plank from scuttled ship."
_Caesar:_ Ha Ha! but speak it not aloud, until 'tis done.
_Both:_ Whist! whist as mice! We'll oil the guillotine.
_Exeunt both while Caesar washes his hands with
invisible soap._

ACT II

Dramatis Personae

_Francos_ . . . . _Governor General of a Province._
_Quezox_ . . . . _Resident Delegate of the Province._
_Seldonskip:_ . . _Secretary to the Governor General._
_Capt of the Ship:_

_Scene: On shipboard_

_(Quezox, slowly walking the deck, soliloquizes.)_

I feel a mighty task doth bear me down.
When distance held the burden in its hand,
It seemed, that, like a vessel on the stock,
'Twould easy, when the holding blocks were moved,
Slip gently down into the sea of states;
But now that nearness stares me in the face,
Wearing prophetic grin, methinks, I see
Deep obstacles which bar the slippery ways,
On which the ship must glide to waters deep.
A ship to safely sail in troubled seas,
Must boast a captain skilled in wat'ry lore.
But he were helpless