[FORUM GAME] Medieval Speech

[ping111]

Lo, salutations.

To-day I proposeth a pondering festival:

Ye shalt only speaketh in ye olden speech.

Thou shalt discuss anything which thine heart desireth.

GO!

[Cthulufaic]

Harumph! Thou knows not of ye olden tongue!

Thou art speaking as a dull-beakéd loon!

[ping111]

Yar, I seeth thus as an insult!

One doth not speaketh mine direction in such a manner!

[Cthulufaic]

Hold thine actions anon till we arm for dueling.

Thine blood wouldst stain carpet ever so.

Choose thine field of honor

[ping111]

Forsooth, I chooseth thine finest musket hitherto we truce.

Half-score paces, yea?

[Cthulufaic]

Nea, full-score paces.

[semininja]

I daresay the pair of ye knaves haven\'t between ye the grammar skills of a boy of three harvests!

'Thou shallt speak only...'

'Thou knowest/speakest...'

'I choose/see...'

'One doth not speak...'

'Thy blood/field...'

Aye, ping, I can for the life of me make head nor tail of this:

Forsooth, I chooseth thine finest musket hitherto we truce.

[Mynorus]

Thou shall not beat thyself in the game of thrones,

The finest of mares, the greatest in pairs,

Thy must beware of the fair of thou chairs!

[semininja]

Thou shall not beat thyself in the game of thrones,

The finest of mares, the greatest in pairs,

Thy must beware of the fair of thou chairs!

Thou hast thine pronouns improperly placed.

[LukeTim]

Great beauty hath the middle england tongue.

Whan that Aprille, with hise shoures soote,

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote

And bathed every veyne in swich licour,

Of which vertu engendred is the flour;

Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth

Inspired hath in every holt and heeth

The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne

Hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne,

And smale foweles maken melodye,

That slepen al the nyght with open eye-

So priketh hem Nature in hir corages-

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages

And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes

To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;

And specially, from every shires ende

Of Engelond, to Caunturbury they wende,

The hooly blisful martir for the seke

That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seeke.

Bifil that in that seson, on a day,

In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay,

Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage

To Caunterbury, with ful devout corage,

At nyght were come into that hostelrye

Wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye

Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle

In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle,

That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde.

The chambres and the stables weren wyde,

And wel we weren esed atte beste;

And shortly, whan the sonne was to reste,

So hadde I spoken with hem everychon

That I was of hir felaweshipe anon,

And made forward erly for to ryse

To take our wey, ther as I yow devyse.

But nathelees, whil I have tyme and space,

Er that I ferther in this tale pace,

Me thynketh it acordaunt to resoun

To telle yow al the condicioun

Of ech of hem, so as it semed me,

And whiche they weren, and of what degree,

And eek in what array that they were inne;

And at a knyght than wol I first bigynne.

[Cthulufaic]

Holy Shite!

[Guest Flixxbeatz]

[mincespy]

Shiver me timbers, me hearties!

Yarr, ye landlubber!

YARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

[LukeTim]

Shiver me timbers, me hearties!

Yarr, ye landlubber!

YARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

I believeth thou hast misappropriat\'d thy language by several hundr\'d years.

[semininja]

I believeth thou hast misappropriat\'d thy language by several hundr\'d years.

OOC: the \'-th\' suffix is for verbs in the third person.

[Rascal Nag]

Great beauty hath the middle england tongue.

Whan that Aprille, with hise shoures soote,

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote

And bathed every veyne in swich licour,

Of which vertu engendred is the flour;

Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth

Inspired hath in every holt and heeth

The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne

Hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne,

And smale foweles maken melodye,

That slepen al the nyght with open eye-

So priketh hem Nature in hir corages-

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages

And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes

To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;

And specially, from every shires ende

Of Engelond, to Caunturbury they wende,

The hooly blisful martir for the seke

That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seeke.

Bifil that in that seson, on a day,

In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay,

Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage

To Caunterbury, with ful devout corage,

At nyght were come into that hostelrye

Wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye

Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle

In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle,

That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde.

The chambres and the stables weren wyde,

And wel we weren esed atte beste;

And shortly, whan the sonne was to reste,

So hadde I spoken with hem everychon

That I was of hir felaweshipe anon,

And made forward erly for to ryse

To take our wey, ther as I yow devyse.

But nathelees, whil I have tyme and space,

Er that I ferther in this tale pace,

Me thynketh it acordaunt to resoun

To telle yow al the condicioun

Of ech of hem, so as it semed me,

And whiche they weren, and of what degree,

And eek in what array that they were inne;

And at a knyght than wol I first bigynne.

Thou hast placed a morsel of the art of Geoffrey Chaucer here, hast thou not?

[LukeTim]

Verily.