Let us go, Panurge.
Now have I understood thee, quoth Panurge, my plushcod friar, my caballine and claustral ballock.

I freely quit the costs, interest, and charges, seeing you have so egregiously commented upon the most especial chapter of the culinary and monastic cabal.

Come along, my Carpalin, and you, Friar John, my leather-dresser.

Good morrow to you all, my good lords; I have dreamed too much to have so little.

Let us go.