MYSELF: Oh, all right,
My Gill, from your disparagement to save him,
I, like a barber, will proceed to shave him.
Sir Pertinax, then, stroked his smooth-shaved chin,
And thus to curse he softly did begin,
“Par Dex, my lord--”
My daughter GILLIAN interposeth:
GILL: Your knight, dear father, seems to love to curse.