by MaroonTrojan:
Julius:  Tell me once again, these Netherlanders
         Purvey in open air their smokey wares?
Vincent: My knowledge is to you as to myself. Ask.
Julius:  The law allows it?
Vincent:                    The law allows it
         but on the whole the magistrate has some
         objections to its easy use. The first--
         A man who in a tavern or an inn
         produces from his purse a pouch of weed
         And from that pouch a reefer rolls, and smokes,
         shall find himself in cuffs within the hour.
         For at the hearth is where the Duke prefers
         his subjects to enjoy a skunky puff.
         But if a man shall walk amidst canals
         and find a bar the Magistrate prefers
         and hath warranted, then may he indulge.
Julius:  In Dutch, they call them "Hash Bars" I am told.
Vincent: The law is as I said before: to buy
         the herb is free from scrutiny by all
         who bear the plated badge of Amsterdam.
         To own and hold the herb in quantities
         exceeding any limits of the mind--
         it may be done, and freely so: And one
         who is proprietor of such a place
         may boldly and without offense make buds of any
         who is Guildered, or with Francs, or is Crowned.
         But this is the Duke's one and true concern:
         His subjects must not walk past Westerkirk
         with weed among their personal effects.
         But to those who know the law and its mistakes
         This matters not; the Dutch militia lack
         Authority to peek into your purse.
Julius:  To-morrow I shall sail to Hoek and make
         My merry way to Amsterdam.
Vincent:                            Godspeed.

by Ceruleanst:
Vincent: And know'st thou what the French name cottage pie?
Julius:  Say they not cottage pie, in their own tongue?
Vincent: But nay, their tongues, for speech and taste alike
         Are strange to ours, with their own history:
         Gaul knoweth not a cottage from a house.
Julius:  What say they then, pray?
Vincent: Hachis Parmentier.
Julius:  Hachis Parmentier! What name they cream?
Vincent: Cream is but cream, only they say la crème.
Julius:  What do they name black pudding?
Vincent: I know not;
         I visited no inn where't could be bought.
by paprika_bambaataa:
Vincent: But wait, for half my tale is yet untold.
         Were I to ask thee how the Hollanders
         do garnish their patatas, wouldst say thus:
         "The sweet, luxurious sauce of fair Mahon,
         with olive's oil and creamy yolk of egg,
         well known as garnish meet for tubers"--aye?
Julius:  Is it not so?
Vincent:                God blind me if it were.
         The Lowland-men, who must distracted be,
         do grind up crimson nightshade and concoct
         a loathsome sauce, _ketjap_ by name, which doth
         no doubt inflame their fevered brains anew,
         perpetuating their insanity.
Julius:  God's truth!  I can believe it not.
Vincent:                                      Oh, aye,
         and not a little do they thus employ;
         but rather the patatas drown therewith.
Julius:  'Tis an abomination, by my faith.