bemusedlybespectacled:

hypeaholic:

avantegarda:

nudityandnerdery:

nonlinear-nonsubjective:

marzipanandminutiae:

ur-friendly-local-memer:

marzipanandminutiae:

little-niggah-sugar:

hi-def-doritos:

amityravenclawelf:

dragonpuppies:

Elizabethan Peasant 1: Look yonder! Someone has writ upon that ceiling that thou art most easily gulled!

Elizabethan Peasant 2: More fool they, for I cannot read.

Elizabethan Peasant 1: *sighing, lowers his visage unto his palm*

Elizabethan Peasant 1: Lo, hast thou learned to read?

Elizabethan Peasant 2: Verily, and to compose as well.

Elizabethan Peasant 1: With haste, then, how is the word “i cup” composed?

Elizabethan Peasant 1: what ho, I know a sporting jest! What art thou when thou art a peasant and art occupied in a privy?

Elizabethan Peasant 2: I wist not, but certain am I that thou shalt tell me speedily.

Elizabethan Peasant 1: Most verily, thou art a peon.

Elizabethan Child: Father, I have not yet broken fast and am filled with pangs of hunger.

Elizabethan Father: Hail, Filled With Pangs Of Hunger! Mine own name is Wybert.

Elizabethan Scholar 1: Alack, I have in my purse but sixty-nine pence.

Elizabethan Scholar 2: Lusty fellow, knowst thou well what such a sum portends!

Elizabethan Scholar 1: I…I have not sufficient to sup on fowl.

Elizabethan Scholar 1: Mine name is verily Micheal with a ‘b’, and I hast been afraid of insects mine entire life.

Elizabethan Scholar 2: Cease cease cease. Wither is the bee?

Elizabethan Scholar 1: Thither is a bee?

Elizabethan husband: Wife, ho! Bring forth my keys!

Elizabethan wife: [throws a writing slope before him]

Elizabethan husband: My keys, my keys! What, hast thou not ears?

Elizabethan wife: I thought thou said writing slope.

Elizabethan husband: Devil take thee; why would I say writing slope?

Elizabethan daughter: Harken father! Tis the valorous kush!

Elizabethan father: Thou art in the petty market; how valorous mayest it be?

Elizabethan Peasant: Good morrow, my fine fellows! Thou mayest call me Jared, I has’t seen 19 years upon the Good Lord’s green earth, but I am melancholic, for I must admit it was not my privilege to learn to decipher script.

Elizabethan Scholar: whosoever didst throw that crumpled parchment: thine mother is naught but a poxy trollop

Elizabethan cart driver: pathway work ahead? Verily I pray to God that it doth work!

Elizabethan Soldier 1: How didst thou defeat the most noble knight of the Americas?

Elizabethan Soldier 2: We aimed our arrows and wounded him in the leg, for his shield is the size of a common trencher and he is a great fool.