Now, knock it off! We haven't got enough mud. Thpppppt! Thppt! Thppt! Run away! I've had worse. I blow my nose at you, so-called Arthur King, you and all your silly English k-nnnnniggets. Then who is your lord? I'm invincible! 'Ere. He says he's not dead!
You liar! Oh, certainly, sir. Bring out your dead! Nine pence. Of course not! You are English types-a! Pie Iesu domine... Be quiet! That's what it's all about. If only people would hear of--
Look, I'll have your leg. Does wood sink in water? Hah!
And what do you burn apart from witches? Ah, but can you not also make bridges out of stone? Well, but you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just 'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you! His head smashed in and his heart cut out. The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water signifying by Divine Providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. We do routines and chorus scenes With footwork impeccable. We dine well here in Camelot. We eat ham and jam and spam a lot.
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