"You boast of making the beast with two backs with many a fair maiden, but methinks of late the beast in your bedchamber has but one back, and that your own! O foolish man! Surely you know that a rose presented by lady fair smells sweeter than one plucked by your own hand!"
Art tho stench? A rotten mongrel. A stench. A rat gone bad. Open legs expose such rot. All dies. And you expect us to bond. I say hell to that. Beauty as putrid as a rotten carcass burning in gods light. What hell was I cast to this fait. Art tho a witch meant to poison my youth? What demon summoned you upon this land? Foul wench
Egad, thou are suffering from cranial rectosis.