K. Ush. But where's the wine?
Pal. That shall be mine.
Lo, from this conquering lance
Does flow the purest wine of France: [Fills the bowls out of her lance.
And to appease your hunger, I
Have in my helmet brought a pie:
Lastly, to bear a part with these,
Behold a buckler made of cheese.[40] [Vanish Pallas.
Bayes. That's the banquet. Are you satisfied now, sir?
Johns. By my troth now, that is new, and more than I expected.