Voters: I am sped.
Congress: What, art thou unrepresented?
Voters: Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch, marry’tis enough. Where is my page? With Mark Foley? Go villain, fetch a surgeon, or someone who will impeach this self-proclaim'ed King for his fortnightly lies and fabrications.
Congress: Courage voter, this hurt cannot be much, and if I follow thy lead I may lose sweet Juliet, or nary the next election.
Voters: No ‘tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a
churchdoor, but ‘tis enough, ‘twill serve: ask for me tomorrow,
and you shall find me an oppress'ed populace. I am peppered
I warrant, for this Constitution, a plague a’both your
houses, ‘zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a voter
to death: a braggart, a rogue a villain, that fights by
the book of election arithmetic, why the devil came you between
us? I was hurt under your arm.
Congress: I thought all for the best.
Voters: Help me into some excuse for an energy compromise, Gang of 10,
Or I shall faint, a plague a’both your houses,
They have made worms’ meat of me,
They have squandered my fortunes,
The health of my children, warriors, and elderly,
Have allowed my bridges and levees to decay,
And have mocked me in the forum by day,
I have it, and soundly, to your houses.
Congress: This populace, the Congress' near ally,
My very friend hath got this mortal hurt
In my behalf, my reputation stain’d...
O sweet election,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper soften’d valour’s steel.