I'm A Rich Man Eating In The Eleventh Or Pos…

Oh-ho, the hissing fat from this fat haunch of venison has spilled down my gleaming, oiled beard and onto the many bejeweled rings adorning my fingers! What an untidy stroke of bad fortune at the feast celebrating my greatest triumph! Luckily I have only to wipe the back of my hand onto my gleaming ermine-cuffed surcoat — thusly — and wa-hey presto! Ready for more haunch am I. Ready for more…of everything! Why, more’s the best thing there is for a feast, lad! Haven’t you ever been to a feast before? Worried about a little grease, eh sonne? Needn’t be — I’ve twenty more ermine-cuffed surcoats where that one came from. They are as napkins to me! And if I were to stain all twenty of my ermine-cuffed surcoats with venison grease, steaming and redolent from the spit, why, I’d simply change into a gaberdine, or a gawbardyne as it is alternately spelt, a dolman, a paned doublet, a stitched jerkin, a fine peascod, a simple linen shirt, coat of otter or marten skins, a fine brocade, a nearby tapestry adorning one of my many walls, a particoloured jacket made of fine stuff and embellished with gold stitchings, a pure-white deer, a dagged-edge houppelande — or even the velvet-bordered lap of a fine and willing maiden! [

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