"It is invidious of the king to reward the Duke of Albertine a bejeweled sword when he refuses to give his other subjects even a few sacks of silver!" Lady Elizabeth's angry tones could be heard from across the room and I hastened to quiet her, for fear that we will both be accused of treachery against the king. "Hush, sister!" Moving towards her, I whispered: "The king is wise - the incipient jealousy of the nobles will breed disunity among them. And you know how paranoid his majesty is. Furthermore, you cannot fault the king for being partial to the duke...not after the duke's panegyric at court last Thursday. As opposed to your husband's megillah, which, to be honest, came across as redundant, fabulously boring, and lasted an entire hour!" Elizabeth frowned, but her lips twitched. "It is all very well for the duke to slake the king's thirst for flattery with a jug of oenomel, but we all know that King Henry's reign is not 'a paragon of virtue and sagacity to barbaric nations across the world.'"
E, are you mad at me for being a wild gardener? Is it because I choose to create my own fata morgana in the midst of my verdant oasis? Please forgive my intransigence, as I find the lushness and vim of unbridled greenery to be an oenomel to my soul. It seems that my love of chaotic gardening is invidious to those who crave order. Perhaps my panegyric ramblings on "Natural Gardening" will somehow spark an incipient love in you of uncontrolled proliferation? If not, it will still not slake my desire of writing my own megillah bombast for your blog.
"Nothing amuses me more than observing tyros go about their studies," William said, a smile playing on his lips. "I would fain disturb the first-years with sophomoric pranks, but I cower at the thought of the master's rod. The master's hand is as heavy as his wife." I couldn't help but giggle at his impertinent remark. "I disagree. The schoolmaster is a formidable man with the vim of people half his age, but my fear of his cruel philippics surpasses that of a sore bottom. He told Frederick that he was an obtuse baboon destined to a life of cuckoldry and shame...and all because Fred pronounced a French verb wrongly." "If we took the matter up to the headmaster, I'm sure he'll put a stop to such abuse." "Keep on dreaming, William. If the marquis couldn't get our schoolmaster to apologize for insulting his son, then, a fortiori, neither can a lowly headmaster."
"With gracious gods he communed, honouring thus At once by service and similitude, Service devout and worship emulous Of the same golden Muses once they wooed, The names and shades adored of all of us, The nurslings of the brave world's earlier brood Grown gods for us themselves: Theocritus First, and more dear Catullus, names bedewed With blessings bright like tears From the old memorial years, And loves and lovely laughters, every mood Sweet as the drops that fell Of their own oenomel From living lips to cheer the multitude That feeds on words divine, and grows More worthy, seeing their world reblossom like a rose"
The gallimaufry of well-dressed women stood in a circle, fawning over the truculent but broodingly handsome male. At this moment, a young lady of more modest apparel stumbled into their midst. "My Lord," she said, curtseying. Lady Elizabeth, who was painstakingly trying to attract the squire's attention, glowered at the brazen girl. "Either that girl has been goaded by her ill-groomed parents or she has chutzpah none of us know about. Still, I pass that over, if only because she has seven siblings to feed and earning the favor of the squire is the only way." Surprisingly, the squire did not seem offended at the presence of the rosy-cheeked girl, although he was astonished at her audacity. "Courage is a good quality, but beware of the conflicts brought on by courage."
"Even though I was determined to leave town, his infinite kindness towards me always held me back from fleeing. On the other hand, the guilt of being so madly in love with his wife was eating my insides every day. Often her coming in interrupted his droll stories with which he entertained us every evening. Most of the time his trenchant words would hurt her deeply...and I would want to kill him. I would find myself staring at her and feel this tortured velleity to be with her. And I suddenly remember New Year's when she accepted my dance invitation with an alacrity that surprised me. I felt a sudden frisson down my neck when she held my hand and led me to the dance floor, away from her husband's gaze..."
"As you whimpered I felt something of a frisson. I didn't want to, I admit I never liked you, but I didn't think I could be so cruel. To have you so near was a mere velleity in my arsenal of thoughts and to be frank, I never really thought I'd have it in me to be so.. trenchant. You're a droll, Mr. Mencia, you really aren't funny, and it is too much of a rara avis for me to have a loaded gun as you lay there, defenseless. I can't pass this opportunity. This is going to happen."