Tuesday, September 14, 2004

The Tragedy of Omlet, Prince of Massachusetts, cont.

(Previously, by others' hands, here and here)

SCENE III. A lavish hotel room in Cleveland.


My soundbites are embark'd: farewell:
And, darling, as the airwaves give benefit
And convoy each sentiment, do not sleep,
But let me hear from you.

Do you doubt that?

For Cheney and the malice of his favour,
Hold it a little cut worthy of the blood,
A rose in the age of weakling nature,
Forward, not permanent, mean, not lasting,
The skunk’s short stink of a careless moment; No more.

No more but so?

Think it no more;
For the negative, mud-slung, gathers none alone
In bundles and bulk, but, as the temple empties,
The lonesome service of the mind and soul
Grows solitary withal. Better I loved you then,
That now no soil nor cautel might besmirch
The virtue of our will: must we fear,
Our greatness weigh'd, my will so not mine own?
For I myself am subject to this plan:
We may not, as unvalued persons do,
Campaign for ourselves; for on this violence depend
The safety and health of Teresa’s whole estate;
And therefore ought our vitriol be circumscribed
Unto the voice and yielding of sweet reason
Whereof we are the banner. Then if I say you love them,
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it
As he in his particular act and place
May give his saying deed; which is no further
Than the main voice of Democracy goes withal.
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,
If with too vicious tongue I damn their songs,
Or lose the mobbing heart, or thus our treasure open
To their unmaster'd raging fury.
Fear it, Omlet, fear it, my dear candidate,
And keep me in the rear of that affection,
Out of the shot and danger of the fray.
Be easy then; their evil lies in fear:
Age to itself reveals, though none else near.

I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,
As watchman over your part. Too-good my brother,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Urge me leap from a steep, thorny cliff in heaven;
Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
Warm in th’ bath of an adoring press,
Happy in your virtue.

O, fear me not.
I stay too long: but here Clinton calls.


A double helping is a double grace,
Fast food makes for long hospital stays.

Yet here, Edwards! attack, attack, for shame!
Their bile drips from the orbit of your eye,
And you are blind’d thus. There; my blessing with thee!
With these few precepts in thy memory
Damn their character. Give thy doubts no tongue,
Nor any proportioned thought the act.
Be thou familiar, and by all means vulgar.
Those friends thou hast, no niceties further tied,
Shift away, or to our cause further steel;
But do not dull thy blade with soft sweetness
Lest some milquetoast, halfheart pundit wilt. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in,
Drive the enemy partisans in disgust to flee.
Give every rumor thy ear, and each thy voice;
Earn them every man's censure, and stay on message.
Costly thy habit that niceness buys,
Politician never so sweet, gaudied;
But the apparel thus will wear the man,
And they in France of the best rank and station
Will be all you to this ticket pulls.
Neither an explainer nor an excuser be;
For halves oft loses both itself and friend,
And stonewalling locks you in the rigid lie.
This above all: to thine own message be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thine falsity will be found by no man.
Farewell: my nurse is here for my bath!

Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.

Her sponge invites me, go; the enemy rend.

Farewell, Edward; and remember well
What I demand of you.

'Tis in my memory lock'd,
And some future memoir published, print the truth of it.



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