(_Draws pistol_.)

MOUNTWAVE, HARDHAND, SATAN (_singing_):

For Chinese expulsion, hurrah!
To mobbing and murder, all hail!
Away with your justice and law--
We'll make every pagan turn tail.

CHORUS OF FOREIGN VOTERS:

Bedad! oof dot tief o'ze vorld--
Zat Ivan Tchanay vos got hurled
In Hella, da debil he say:
"Wor be yer return pairmit, hey?"
Und gry as 'e shaka da boot:
"Zis haythen haf nevaire been oot!"

HARDHAND:

Too many cooks are working at this broth--
I think, by thunder, t'will be mostly froth!
I'm cussed ef I can sarvy, up to date,
What good this dern fandango does the State.

MOUNTWAVE:

The State's advantage, sir, you may not see,
But think how good it is for me.

SATAN:

And me.

(_Curtain_.)

ASPIRANTS THREE

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

_QUICK_:
DE YOUNG _a Brother to Mushrooms_

_DEAD_:
SWIFT _an Heirloom_
ESTEE _a Relic_

_IMMORTALS_:
THE SPIRIT OF BROKEN HOPES. THE AUTHOR.

_MISCELLANEOUS_:
A TROUPE OF COFFINS. THE MOON. VARIOUS COLORED FIRES.

_Scene_--The Political Graveyard at Bone Mountain.

DE YOUNG:

This is the spot agreed upon. Here rest
The sainted statesman who upon the field
Of honor have at various times laid down
Their own, and ended, ignominious,
Their lives political. About me, lo!
Their silent headstones, gilded by the moon,
Half-full and near her setting--midnight. Hark!
Through the white mists of this portentous night
(Which throng in moving shapes about my way,
As they were ghosts of candidates I've slain,
To fray their murderer) my open ear,
Spacious to maw the noises of the world,
Engulfs a footstep.
(_Enter Estee from his tomb._)
Ah, 'tis he, my foe,
True to appointment; and so here we fight--
Though truly 'twas my firm belief that he
Would send regrets, or I had not been here.

ESTEE:

O moon that hast so oft surprised the deeds
Whereby I rose to greatness!--tricksy orb,
The type and symbol of my politics,
Now draw my ebbing fortunes to their flood,
As, by the magic of a poultice, boils
That burn ambitions with defeated fires
Are lifted into eminence.
(_Sees De Young._)
What? you!
Faith, if I had suspected you would come
From the fair world of politics wherein
So lately y