Escarpin.
Well, I prove it in this manner:—
Mr. Dullard fell in love
(I do n't tell where all this happened,
Or the time, for of the Dullards
Every age and time give samples)
With a very lovely lady:
At her coach-door as he chattered
One fine evening, he such nonsense
Talked, that one who heard his clatter,
Asked the lady in amazement
If this simpleton's advances
Did not make her doubt her beauty?—
But she quite gallantly answered,
Never until now have I
Felt so proud of my attractions,
For no beauty can be perfect
That all sorts of men do n't flatter.
Claudius.
What a feeble jest!
Escarpin.
This feeble?—
Claudius.
Yes, the very type of flatness:—
Cease buffooning, for my uncle
Here is coming.
Escarpin.
Of his sadness
Plainly is his face the mirror.
Enter Polemius and servants.