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Sat 9 Nov, 2002 01:32 am
Someone's been of such foul character that as much as possible mine own words will be spared in the carping that is to follow. I shall call upon stout fellow, the homeboy by the name of Shakey to cast insult on this deserving effigy of a woman.
Me (to all): What cracker is this same that deafs our ears with this abundance of superfluous breath? Her sin is not accidental, but a trade. I now know she is an irksome brawling scold.
She is too mean to have her name repeated so she shan't be named. I spoke with her but once, and found her wondrous cold, her benefits are mightily misplaced. I find the ass in compound with the major part of her syllables. What a disgrace it is to me that I should remember her name. A most pathetical nit indeedy and I do repent the tedious minutes I with her have spent.
To the unnamed, pray , stand farther from me, lets meet as little as we can. I desire that we be better strangers. To my merit I was seeking for a fool when I found her. More of her conversation would infect my brain.
She hath proclaimed her contemptuous barbs as defensive in nature, but it is fit that I commit offence to my inferiors. What's the matter with this dissentious rogue that, rubbing the poor itch of her opinion, make herself scabs?
She's the kitchen wench, and all grease ; and I know not what use to put her but to make a lamp of her and run her from her own light. I warrant, her rags and the tallow in them will burn a Poland winter. If she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.
Unto the unamed:
Lady, you are the cruelst she alive, you tread upon my patience for there is neither honesty, manhood or good fellowship in thee. What a wretched and peevish female you are. You are strangely troublesome, on my knee I give heaven thanks that I am not like to thee.
Methink thou art a general offence and I would that you were open to incontinency besieged in a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. You are as a candle, the better part burnt out. You should be female and yet your beard forbids me to interpret that you are so.
Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit, for I am sick when I do look on thee. I had rather be a toad, and live upon the vapour of a dungeon, than hold further converse with thee. How foul and loathsome is thine presence.
Thou little thing better than earth. ;-)
Oman, art thou lunatic?
I will knog your urinals about your knave's coxcomb!
O lousy knave to have his gibes and his mockeries!
What, a hodge-pudding? A bag of flax?
A puffed man?
Old, cold, withered, and of intolerable entrails?
And one that is as slanderous as satan?
And as poor as Job?
And as wicked as his wife?
He is given to fornications, and to taverns, and sack,
and wine, and metheglins, and to
drinkings, and swearings, and starings, pribbles and prabbles.
Drunkenness is your best virtue, for you will be swine drunk, and in your sleep you do little harm, save to your bedclothes about ye.
I am richer than my base accuser that never knew what truth meant.
I do believe (induc'd by potent circumstances) that you are mine enemy.
Thou art not a friend to truth.
Your heart is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen and pride.
I am traduced by ignorant tongues.
Your will is most malignant.
There's mischief in this man.
These exactions, they are most pestilent to th'hearing.
O rarely base, do you vex me still? Wiltst thou conjure onto yourself yet more souless villainesses so that I might be forc'd to drink their vapour? Or will thy feeble soul stand firm and hold your ground?
I shall stand firm before you're sullied court of which thou has placed before me, for your own arrogance and ignorance have fueled my eternal fire; no stone nor work of genuine ill intention will I allow to enter my soul, maybe you yourself should go back to the leaping- house's and as you pull up your pants, look into that mirror, or is thou above too afraid it might crack, for your words come out as a serpents tongue that is too swollen from your own favorite aged drink thus affecting your ability to speak civilized, leaving you nothing more than a heathen. Why must thou look towards other people forgetting to seek inside own heart and morals first? Or has the heathen transformed into a true demon forgetting gods own discourse. Misplacing somewhere along your travels the grace of being alive at all.
(Forgive me if this was a personal thing, I felt like writting) This has nothing to do with anyone above.
oh go for it MG - I don't think personal things get put on forums!
He he, so i really posted this thread? Twasn't a dream (nightmare since dlowan was involved)?
Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Quote:Unto the unamed:
Lady, you are the cruelst she alive,
Down South We would say you must have encountered the
"BOA SHE COON and her den"
Aroint thee thou rump fed roynon!
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