Enter Sir Richard Mounchensey, Sir Ralph Jerningham, young Frank Jerningham, Raymond Mounchensey, Peter Fabel, and Bilbo.
Host. The destinies be most neat chamberlains to these swaggering puritans, knights of the subsidy.
Sir Rich. God-a-mercy, good mine host.
Sir Ralph. Thanks, good host Blague.
Host. Room for my case of pistols, 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 punctilios and orthography! I serve the good Duke of Norfolk.
Bil. Tityre, tu patulæ recubans sub tegmine fagi.[254] Truly, mine host, Bilbo, though he be somewhat out of fashion, will be your only blade[255] still; I have a villainous sharp stomach to slice a breakfast.
Host. Thou shalt have it without any more discontinuance, release, or attournment. What! we know our terms of hunting and the sea-card.
Bil. And do you serve the good Duke of Norfolk still?
Host. Still and still, and still, my soldier of Saint Quintin's. Come follow me. I have Charles's-wain[256] below in a butt of sack: 'twill[257] glister like your crab-fish.
Bil. You have fine scholar-like terms: your Cooper's Dictionary[258] is your only book to study in a cellar, a man shall find very strange words in it. Come, my host, let's serve the good Duke of Norfolk.