Friar.Tuck

Verily, thou speakest words that do bring joy to my heart.

Fie upon thee, for it doth seem that thou hast drank many a cup of meade more than thou shouldst. Be as I may a man of peace, thy prattle hast brought upon thee the fullest power of my scorn! Thy wits doth be like those of Harold of Wiltshire, who did suffer to his head a blow of terrible proportions, upon imbibing a glass of meade more than hadst been seemly. Mine quaterstaff doth beg mine permissions to do upon thee similar justice for thy follies, oh drunkard. Fie upon thee, o ye of little faith!

Forsooth! Thy foolish hope doth display thy ignorance of fact in like manner to which the flag of Prince John doth display his cunning and wycked nature! There be not hope, for the hour doth draw late. The end is nigh! Repent! Repent!

Verily, it doth do good to a man to be in the company of such wise and esteemed beings as thyself. Thou art an island of reason, in the midst of a sea of fools.

I do be a man of peace, yet my anger doth be stirred when I do encounter pompous fools. There dost be those who doth need a remedy for actions which in the tongues of man art called stupid. That remedy dost be mine quarterstaff, for the foolishness of their actions art a bane to all mankind.

Verily, thy brains hath a capacity for thought which doth be less than that of Martin of London, who doth be known as the most piteous fool in all the realm. Thou art a blot on the honour of the GRFP, and mine quarterstaff hath the wish to smite thine head for this foolishness. Thou wouldst be well advis

Thy words art like the serpentine words of the evyl Sir Guy of Gisborne, and art poison to the ears of the good inhabitants of this land. Back thee, into the darkness from whence thou came.

Thou couldst be doing homage unto thy liege. Forsooth, even he whom they call Little John doth know more than thee.

Verily, thou art a thrice acursed fool. Thy piteous comments do beg mine quarterstaff to inflict upon you the same which it hath inflicted upon the many soldiers of Prince John. When the day doth come, and our righteous regent Richard Coeur de Lion returneth back to his subjects, thou shalt cower in fear, for the true servants of the king shall beset themselves upon thee. A black day for thee shall it be.

Thou speaketh like a knave! Thy numbers doth make sense solely if thou art a slave of the despotic King John. Thy mistake shall be costly.

Forsooth! Thy words smite upon mine ears like the cries of a maiden, awaiting rescue in vain. Thou art verily a fool if the believeth that thy only liveth once. For tis said by Alan a Dale that a man may live six score of lives, yet nary shall it benefit him lest he joine with the merry men of Robin Hood. And thee, o DrBones, if thou art not a craven knave, then thou truly art a servant of the two great men of England: our liege Richard the Lionheart, or our oppressor, the wycked Sheriff of Nottingham. Woe to the one who sideth wrong in this fight!

Fie upon ye fools. For thou art but mortals, ignorant in the art of science.

Still no reply... :cry: