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Jan. 22, 2016
Ha! ‘Tis a Lark! ‘Tis Woe! You’re foiled, My foe! For thou Hast bringeth a sword to a slightly longer sword fight! ‘Tis a fate, to befall though, my foe, my foil! Imagine what the papers will? How the muses will sing? The obituaries will say, for all to see, “He Fell, for he brought a sword to a slightly longer sword fight!” The laughs the people will have!.
Perhaps I should say more To describe our sabres, mine slightly longer. For thou are armed with a broadsword of eight shaftments, and mine, my wonderful slightly longer sword, is of nine9 shaftments. Thus, when I swingth my sabre, I may tap thee without risk, for thy sword will come up short by a whole shaftment!
What dostoes thou mean my measurement is wrong? My sword is not a palm, as you claim. And your sword is not one span with one hand?
I don’t understand thee, what does this have to do with our maidens and our spawn. What kind of maiden touches swords? Whereforey arte thou calling thy sword a “seven son sword”?
Arte thou speaking of swords, or of thy pillicock? For I tell you my pillicock is more than slightly longer than thy pillicockee’s. I tell you my maiden loves my pillicock! My maiden tells me it is not the length of thy sword, but the way the swordsman swing it, to frame it as you frame it.
May we reschedule our fight? For my sword is feeling rather scant at the sight of thou trouserless.
