Lieutenant. And how came you to leave your last employ?

Point. Why, sir, it was in this wise. My Lord was the Archbishop of Canterbury, and it was considered that one of my jokes was unsuited to His Grace's family circle. In truth, I ventured to ask a poor riddle, sir — Wherein lay the difference between His Grace and poor Jack Point? His Grace was pleased to give it up, sir. And thereupon I told him that whereas His Grace was paid £10,000 a year for being good, poor Jack Point was good — for nothing. 'Twas but a harmless jest, but it offended His Grace, who whipped me and set me in the stocks for a scurril rogue, and so we parted. I had as lief not take post again with the dignified clergy.

Lieutenant. But I trust you are very careful not to give offence. I have daughters.

Point. Sir, my jests are most carefully selected, and anything objectionable is expunged. If your honour pleases, I will try then first on your honour's chaplain.

Lieutenant. Can you give me an example? Say that I had sat me down hurriedly on something sharp?

Point. Sir, I should say that you had sat down on the spur of the moment.

Lieutenant. Humph! I don't think much of that. Is that the best you can do?

Point. It has always been much admired , sir, but we will try again.

Lieutenant. Well, then, I am at dinner, and the joint of meat is but half cooked.

Point. Why then, sir, I should say that what is underdone cannot be helped.

Lieutenant. I see. I think that manner of thing would be somewhat irritating.

Point. At first, sir, perhaps; but use is everything, and you would come in time to like it.

Lieutenant. We will suppose that I caught you kissing the kitchen wench under my very nose.

Point. Under her very nose, good sir — not under yours! That is where I would kiss her. Do you take me? Oh, sir, a pretty wit — a pretty, pretty wit!

Lieutenant. The maiden comes. Follow me, friend, and we will discuss this matter at length in my library.

Point. I am your worship's servant. That is to say, I trust I soon shall be. But, before proceeding to a more serious topic, can you tell me, sir, why a cook's brain-pan is like an overwound clock?

Lieutenant. A truce to this fooling — follow me.

Point. Just my luck; my best conundrum wasted!

Exeunt Lieutenant and Point.

Page Created 10 January, 2006