Whetstone.
In the almanac.
Violet.
Why, gallant knights and lovers gather substantial sustenance from moonlight. ’Tis prescribed by Heaven and the poets. And thou revilest the moon? Thou art a traitor to nature. Thy best place were in an almanac, in the dark of the moon, in the sign of Capricorn.
Whetstone.
Off with the mask! [Removes head-piece.] Behold the real Honorable Mayor Whetstone, Merchant Prince of Cornville, near the capital of Illinois; called Hercules after his real grand-uncle Hercules, who drove the real Indians reeling down the real Mississippi. Do you follow me?
Violet.
Heaven guide me in this whirlwind of contraries!
Whetstone.
Take yours off, too.