Touch. When a man’s speeches cannot be understood, nor a man’s good platform wit seconded by the froward child popular understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a small minority on a big Bill.  Truly, I would the gods had made thee political.

Aud. I do not know what political is.  Is it honest in deed and word?  Is it a true thing?

Touch. (with sardonic frankness).  No, truly; for the truest politics show the most feigning; and Tories are given to politics; and what they swear, in politics, may be said, as Tories, they do feign.

Aud. Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me political?

Touch. I do, truly; for they swear to me thou art true Tory, parson-and-squire-ridden Tory.  Now, if thou wert political, I might have some hope thou didst feign—­to them!

Aud. Would you not have me Tory?

Touch. No, truly, unless thou wert fortune-favoured; for Toryism coupled to poverty is to have folly a sauce to misery.

Jaq. (aside).  A shrewd fool!

Aud. Well, I am not rich; and therefore I pray the gods to make me Liberal.

Touch. Truly, and to cast away Liberalism upon a willingly “unemancipated” Voter, were to deck a porker with pearls.

Aud. I may not be “emancipated,” but I thank the gods I am “enfranchised.”

Touch. Well, praised be the Liberals for thine enfranchisement!  Emancipation—­from “squarsonry”—­may come hereafter.  But, be it as it may, I will marry thee.

Jaq. (aside).  I would fain see this wedding.  Methinks there will be sport forward ere it be fully achieved.

Aud. Well, the gods give us joy!

Touch. Amen....  But, AUDREY, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you.

Aud. Ay, I know who ’tis:  he hath no interest in me in the world.  Here comes the man you mean.

Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a—­Tory:  by my troth, we that have good wits have much to answer for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold.

Enter WILLIAM.

Will. Good even, AUDREY.

Aud. Give ye good even, WILLIAM.

Will. And good even to you, Sir!

Touch. Good even, gentle friend....  Art thou wise?

Will. Ay, Sir, I have a pretty wit.

Touch. You do desire this maid?

Will. I do, Sir.

Touch. Give me your hand.  Art thou learned?

Will. No, Sir.

Touch. Then learn this of me; to have is to have; for it is a great figure in Gladstonian rhetoric, that votes being deducted from one Party and added to another, by putting the one Out do put the other In; for all your writers do consent that ipse is he:  now you are not ipse, for I am he.