Ariel : I do hope my singing doth please the King.
Father : As do I, Lass. The King's favor wouldst ensure a hearty flow of mutton and ale to our family table.
Zechariah : And free me from this wretched trade to become the Poet for which I am made.
Ariel : Zachariah relinquish not thy day job.
Zechariah : [Trumpet sounding] Behold! The King Henry The Eighth! He Arriveth! Isn't that greath?
Father : Thy brother thinks his words delighteth.
Ariel : When in truth, they just plain biteth.
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