Jaskier: I've made you famous, Witcher. By rights, I should be claiming ten percent of all your coin, but instead, what I'm asking for is a teeny, teeny-weeny little favor.

Geralt: F*ck off, bard.

Jaskier: For one measly night of service, you will gain a cornucopia of earthly delights. The greatest masters of the culinary arts crafting morsels worthy of the gods. Maidens that would make the sun itself blush with a single comely smile. (Geralt walks off) And rivers of the sweetest of drinks from the rarest of... F*ck! (runs after him) Food, women and wine, Geralt!