On the bald polished pate showed that triumph was scored.
"To dinner with appetite now!"
Down he trips. "In good time!" smirks the host. "Didst thou scent
Rich savor of roast meat? Where hides he, my ape?
Look alive, be alert! He 's away to wash plates.
Sit down, Saint! What 's here? Dost examine a rent
In the napkin thou twistest and twirlest? Agape ...
Ha, blood is it drips nor abates
"From thy wringing a cloth, late was lavendered fair?
What means such a marvel?" "Just this does it mean: