Never, so help me! And I swear I've heard
A score of Judges say that he is not.
SWIFT (_to Estee_):
You take the Interior. I might aspire
To military station too, for once
I led my party into Pixley's camp,
And he paroled me. I defended, too,
The State of Oregon against the sharp
And bloody tooth of the Australian sheep.
But I've an aptitude exceeding neat
For bloodless battles of diplomacy.
My cobweb treaty of Exclusion once,
Through which a hundred thousand coolies sailed,
Was much admired, but most by Colonel Bee.
Though born a tinker I'm a diplomat
From old Missouri, and I--ha! what's that?
(_Exit Moon. Enter Blue Lights on all the tombs, and a
circle of Red Fire on the grass; in the center the Spirit of
Broken Hopes, and round about, a Troupe of Coffins, dancing
and singing._)