@intoxicatiing

Pride waggles its enunciating tongue by the volume of his thrice-gilded tome, and doth Roland confer, in argumentative Words, of why the Lady Larksynne is false.

“Of sheltered roofs and misguided Talk of conversational ides, my Lady,” refutes he, pointing to his book in twice. “Of speaking Faery and the Wood of Wishes, yea, and the corner’d stones of Divinity-touch’d gems. All is true! Naught am I borne the liar ‘pon my sacred pages!” And doth he snort like the hurt-felt stag, proud and breast-thrust’d.