Wild. As I live, captain, I subscribe, and am content to hold my wit as a tenant to thee; and to-night I'll invite you to supper, where it shall not be lawful to speak till thou hast victualled thy man-of-war.
Capt. Shall's be merry? What shall we have?
Wild. Half a score dishes of meat; choose them yourself.
Capt. Provide me then the chines fried, and the salmon calvered, a carp and black sauce, red deer in the blood, and an assembly of woodcocks and jacksnipes, so fat you would think they had their winding-sheets on; and upon these, as their pages, let me have wait your Sussex wheatear, with a feather in his cap; over all which let our countryman, General Chine of beef, command. I hate your French pottage, that looks as the cook-maid had more hand in it than the cook.
Wild. I'll promise you all this.
Care. And let me alone to cook the fish.
Capt. You cook it! no, no, I left an honest fellow in town, when I went into Italy, Signor Ricardo Ligones, one of the ancient house of the Armenian ambassadors; if he be alive, he shall be our cook.
Wild. Is he excellent at it?
Capt. Excellent! you shall try, you shall try. Why, I tell you, I saw him once dress a shoeing-horn and a joiner's apron, that the company left pheasant for it.
Wild. A shoeing-horn!