Template:Dkt pillochio plot

Pillochio: Thou art a fool, but know’st it not:
Thy hawkish overestimations
Of thine picklish acme
Lie as thinly ’cross the loaf
As a board-house scrape of butter
When served afore a banquet.
Best check thy tumid speech
Lest good Doctor Dunning prick his ears.

Nuncle: I am a fool, by trade, and surely know’t:
Herewith my coxcomb: it might suit thee.
Who glibly pleads the hitch
Of own-wisdom misreflected
To win — nay, in lieu of —
A trifling argument
Is a man who looks a-mirror
And, liking what he sees
O’erlooks the chasing hounds of irony.

Pillochio: Ho! Ho!