Hamilton.
Hasn't the South, at any rate, as much claim as the North?
Schuyler.
No! . . .
Hamilton.
General, your argument is
Zekiel.
Secatary Jeff'son and Sentah Monroe callin' to see yo', sir. Reckon you's out?
Hamilton.
I reckon I'm in, Zekiel.
Schuyler.
[Rising.] Now, here they come to talk to you about the Capital, and you're going to concede it without a struggle.
Hamilton.
[Coming to him.] Father, you're the best friend I have in the world, but I daren't trust you in a matter of diplomacy. That's no reflection on your intelligence because, you know, diplomacy is frequently only one-eighth brain [tapping him on the forehead] and seven-eighths the way you use it. I'm going to send you out onto that balcony to cool down.
Zekiel.
I jes' got some mo' suppah ready to brung up.
Schuyler.
[Getting above centre table.] Well, bring it in, Zekiel, and the country be hanged.
