There lived a lady in this land,
Whose charms the heart made tingle;
At church she had not given her hand,
And therefore still was single.
BARON.
Keep to prose.
BUTLER.
I will, my Lord; but I have repeated it so often in verse, I scarce know how.—Count Cassel, influenced by the designs of Cupid in his very worst humour,
“Count Cassel wooed this maid so rare,
And in her eye found grace;
And if his purpose was not fair,”
BARON.
No verse.
BUTLER.
“It probably was base.”
I beg pardon, my Lord; but the verse will intrude in spite of my efforts to forget it. ’Tis as difficult for me at times to forget, as ’tis for other men at times to remember. But in plain truth, my Lord, the Count was treacherous, cruel, forsworn.
BARON.
I am astonished!
BUTLER.
And would be more so if you would listen to the whole poem. [Most earnestly.] Pray, my Lord, listen to it.