Cit. Well said, Ralph; some more of those words, Ralph.
Wife. They go finely, by my troth.
Ralph. Why should I not then pursue this course, both for the credit of myself and our company? for amongst all the worthy books of achievements, I do not call to mind that I yet read of a grocer errant: I will be the said knight. Have you heard of any that hath wandered unfurnished of his squire and dwarf? My elder prentice Tim shall be my trusty squire, and little George my dwarf. Hence, my blue apron! Yet, in remembrance of my former trade, upon my shield shall be portrayed a burning pestle, and I will be called the Knight of the Burning Pestle.
Wife. Nay, I dare swear thou wilt not forget thy old trade, thou wert ever meek. Ralph! Tim!
Tim. Anon.
Ralph. My beloved squire, and George my dwarf, I charge you that from henceforth you never call me by any other name but the Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning Pestle; and that you never call any female by the name of a woman or wench, but fair lady, if she have her desires; if not, distressed damsel; that you call all forests and heaths, deserts; and all horses, palfreys.
Wife. This is very fine: faith, do the gentlemen like Ralph, think you, husband?
Cit. Ay, I warrant thee, the players would give all the shoes in their shop for him.
Ralph. My beloved Squire Tim, stand out. Admit this were a desert, and over it a knight errant pricking, and I should bid you inquire of his intents, what would you say?
Tim. Sir, my master sent me to know whither you are riding?