SIR indeed, thou hast furnished me in kind and in good manner, prithee I thought in in time thy own wealth would be soil and ash - fie! But to soil and ash! A fever-dream of bleak visitation, not spake of in sport were it to be awoke by idle breath. Fie to uncautioned words. Hail, hearty friendsman!


*HE EXITS, WITH IMPOTENT FLOURISH*

You, sir, are a prince amongst lesser whatsits.

ugh UGH

A-HAAAA

WHAT IF YOURS WAS BECAUSE IT SO IS

YOURS IS LITERAL