HOST. The destinies be most neat Chamberlains to these swaggering puritans, knights of the subsidy.
SIR MOUNCHESNEY.
God a mercy, good mine host.
SIR JERNINGHAM.
Thanks, good host Blague.
HOST. Room for my case of pistolles, that have Greek and Latin bullets in them; let me cling to your flanks, my nimble Giberalters, and blow wind in your calves to make them swell bigger. Ha, I'll caper in mine own fee-simple; away with puntillioes and Orthography! I serve the good Duke of Norfolk. Bilbo, Titere tu, patulae recubans sub tegmine fagi.
BILBO. Truly, mine host, Bilbo, though he be somewhat out of fashion, will be your only blade still. I have a villanous sharp stomach to slice a breakfast.
HOST. Thou shalt have it without any more discontinuance, releases, or atturnement. What! we know our terms of hunting and the sea-card.
BILBO.
And do you serve the good duke of Norfolk still?
HOST. Still, and still, and still, my souldier of S. Quintins: come, follow me; I have Charles waine below in a but of sack, t'will glister like your Crab-fish.
BILBO. You have fine Scholler-like terms; your Coopers Dixionary is your only book to study in a celler, a man shall find very strange words in it. Come, my host, let's serve the good duke of Norfolk.
HOST. And still, and still, and still, my boy, I'll serve the good duke of Norfolk.