BEL. Ah! let us think of the new-born babe, I beg of you.

PHI. (_to_ LEPINE). Now, little page, bring some seats for us to
sit down. (LEPINE _slips down_.) You senseless boy, how can you
fall down after having learnt the laws of equilibrium?

BEL. Do you not perceive, ignorant fellow, the causes of your fall,
and that it proceeds from your having deviated from the fixed point
which we call the centre of gravity?

LEP. I perceived it, Madam, when I was on the ground.

PHI. (_to_ LEPINE, _who goes out_). The awkward clown!

TRI. It is fortunate for him that he is not made of glass.

ARM. Ah! wit is everything!

BEL. It never ceases. (_They sit down._)

PHI. Serve us quickly your admirable feast.

TRI. To satisfy, the great hunger which is here shown to me, a dish of
eight verses seems but little; and I think that I should do well to
join to the epigram, or rather to the madrigal, the ragout of a sonnet
which, in the eyes of a princess, was thought to have a certain
delicacy in it. It is throughout seasoned with Attic salt, and I think
you will find the taste of it tolerably good.

ARM. Ah! I have no doubt of it.