Look at those shields upon my wall and under my eaves.

Each of them is the device of some noble lord or gallant knight who hath slept under my roof at one time or another.

Yet milder men or easier to please I have never seen: eating my bacon and drinking my wine with a merry face, and paying my score with some courteous word or jest which was dearer to me than my profit.

Those are the true gentles.

But your chapman or your bearward will swear that there is a lime in the wine, and water in the ale, and fling off at the last with a curse instead of a blessing.