(no subject)
Hold! Who goes there, ye cherry-picking ragamuffin? Oh. Oh, wait. That's me.
Good morrow to you all, gentle sirs and fair ladies, my codswalloping groundlings. I am ... Mercutio, madman, lover, philosopher, genius, maiden-scourge, stud, masqued marvel of speed, strength and virility... I digress. Bountifully.
Speak, villains, have any of you seen Romeo? I do fear he is aiming to plant cabbages in some fertile maiden meadow. Not that I'm worried about him succeeding, because I'm not. It's the third time this week, and it's starting to get excessive. The priory is complaining that he's raiding their flower-gardens in order to go maiden-fancying like regular midsummer matinees, not to mention the way he's been turning heads among the *ahem* suggestible young choirboys, most particularly young Valentine, and let me tell you, has that boy got a mouth.
By which, of course, I mean, greetings unto you, dastardly, conniving and promiscuous villains all.
Good morrow to you all, gentle sirs and fair ladies, my codswalloping groundlings. I am ... Mercutio, madman, lover, philosopher, genius, maiden-scourge, stud, masqued marvel of speed, strength and virility... I digress. Bountifully.
Speak, villains, have any of you seen Romeo? I do fear he is aiming to plant cabbages in some fertile maiden meadow. Not that I'm worried about him succeeding, because I'm not. It's the third time this week, and it's starting to get excessive. The priory is complaining that he's raiding their flower-gardens in order to go maiden-fancying like regular midsummer matinees, not to mention the way he's been turning heads among the *ahem* suggestible young choirboys, most particularly young Valentine, and let me tell you, has that boy got a mouth.
By which, of course, I mean, greetings unto you, dastardly, conniving and promiscuous villains all.