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Bierce, Ambrose, 1842-1914?

"Cobwebs from an Empty Skull"

In the service of
mankind I hold the rank of Fool.
S.--What, ho! without there! Let the trumpets sound!
F.--I beg you will not.
S.--True; you beg: I will not.
F.--But why rob when stealing is more honourable?
S.--Consider the competition.
* * * * *
FOOL.--Sir Cut-throat, how many orphans have you made to-day?
SOLDIER.--The devil an orphan! Have you a family?
F.--Put up your iron; I am the last of my race.
S.--How? No more fools?
F.--Not one, so help me! They have all gone to the wars.
S.--And why, pray, have _you_ not enlisted?
F.--I should be no fool if I knew.
* * * * *
FOOL.--You are somewhat indebted to me.
SOLDIER.--I do not acknowledge your claim. Let us submit the matter to
arbitration.
F.--The only arbiter whose decision you respect is on your own side.
S.--You allude to my sword, the most impartial of weapons: it cuts
both ways.
F.--And each way is peculiarly objectionable to your opponent.
S.--But for what am I indebted to you?
F.--For existence: the prevalence of me has made you possible.
S.--The benefit is not conspicuous; were it not for your quarrels, I
should enjoy a quantity of elegant leisure.
F.--As a clodhopper.
S.


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