Mist. Mer. Truly, Master Knight of the Burning Pestle, I am weary.
Mich. Indeed la mother, and I'm very hungry.
Ralph. Take comfort, gentle dame, and your fair squire.
For in this desert there must needs be placed
Many strong castles, held by courteous knights,
And till I bring you safe to one of those
I swear by this my order ne'er to leave you.
Wife. Well said, Ralph: George, Ralph was ever comfortable, was he not?
Cit. Yes, duck.