Polemius. 
I with nothing such good counsel
Can repay, except the frankness
Of accepting it, which is
The reward yourself would ask for. 
And since I a mean must choose
Between two extremes of action,
From his cell, to-day, my son
Shall go forth, but in a manner
That will leave his seeming freedom
Circumscribed and safely guarded. 
Let that hall which looketh over
Great Apollo’s beauteous garden
Be made gay by flowing curtains,
Be festooned by flowery garlands;
Costly robes for him get ready;
Then invite the loveliest damsels
Rome can boast of, to come hither
To the feasts and to the dances. 
Bring musicians, and in fine
Let it be proclaimed that any
Woman of illustrious blood
Who from his delusive passions
Can divert him, by her charms
Curing him of all his sadness,
Shall become his wife, how humble
Her estate, her wealth how scanty. 
And if this be not sufficient,
I will give a golden talent
Yearly to the leech who cures him
By some happy stroke of practice. [Exit.

Claudius. 
Oh! a father’s pitying love,
What will it not do, what marvel
Not attempt for a son’s welfare,
For his life?

Enter Escarpin.

Escarpin. 
               My lord ‘por Baco!’
(That ’s the god I like to swear by,
Jolly god of all good rascals)
May I ask you what ’s the secret?

Claudius. 
You gain little when you ask me
For a secret all may know. 
After his mysterious absence
Your young lord ’s returned home ill.

Escarpin. 
In what way?

Claudius. 
              That none can fathom,
Since he does not tell his ailment
Save by signs and by his manner.

Escarpin. 
Then he ’s wrong, sir, not to tell it
Clearly:  with extreme exactness
Should our griefs, our pains be mentioned. 
A back tooth a man once maddened,
And a barber came to draw it. 
As he sat with jaws expanded,
“Which tooth is it, sir, that pains you?”
Asked of him the honest barber,
And the patient in affected
Language grandly thus made answer,
“The penultimate”; the dentist
Not being used to such pedantic
Talk as this, with ready forceps
Soon the last of all extracted. 
The poor patient to be certain,
With his tongue the spot examined,
And exclaimed, his mouth all bleeding,
“Why, that ’s not the right tooth, master”. 
“Is it not the ultimate molar?”
Said the barber quite as grandly. 
“Yes” (he answered), “but I said
The penultimate, and I ’d have you
Know, your worship, that it means
Simply that that ’s next the farthest”. 
Thus instructed, he returned
To the attack once more, remarking
“In effect then the bad tooth
Is the one that ’s next the last one?”
“Yes”, he said, “then here it is”,
Spoke the barber with great smartness,
Plucking out the tooth that then
Was the last but one; it happened
From not speaking plain, he lost
Two good teeth, and kept his bad one.