He wore sandals, fastened on with ribands of scarlet silk, and held in his hand a sort of fan, such as ladies then used, composed of the same feathers, assembled into a plume or tuft.
"What mister wight have we here," said the Indian chief, "who dares to tie the bells of a morrice on the ankles of a dull ass?
Hark ye, friend, your dress should make you a subject of ours, since our empire extends over all Merryland, including mimes and minstrels of every description.
What, tongue tied?
He lacks wine; minister to him our nutshell full of sack." A huge calabash full of sack was offered to the lips of the supplicant, while this prince of revellers exhorted him: "Crack me this nut, and do it handsomely, and without wry faces." But, however Oliver might have relished a moderate sip of the same good wine, he was terrified at the quantity he was required to deal with.

He drank a draught, and then entreated for mercy.
"So please your princedom, I have yet far to go, and if I were to swallow your Grace's bounty, for which accept my dutiful thanks, I should not be able to stride over the next kennel." "Art thou in case to bear thyself like a galliard?
Now, cut me a caper--ha! one--two--three--admirable.

Again--give him the spur (here a satellite of the Indian gave Oliver a slight touch with his sword).

Nay, that is best of all: he sprang like a cat in a gutter.

Tender him the nut once more; nay, no compulsion, he has paid forfeit, and deserves not only free dismissal but reward.