NARRATOR: Good morrow to you, Joseph! I espy that you bear a wheel lock — prithee, whither thou goest? Oh, perchance you marked me not the first time, so I rehearse: I espy that you bear a wheel lock — prithee, whither thou goest?
JOSEPH: I intend to dispatch my sweet, for I descried her being untrue. And that is graceless.
[an indeterminate amount of time passes]
NARRATOR: Good morrow once again, Joseph. Word is that you discharged your wheel lock upon your sweet, deathfully goring her.
JOSEPH: That is correct, I deathfully gored her with my wheel lock for, as stated, I descried her being untrue and so I deathfully gored her with my wheel lock.
NARRATOR: Good as the best, sir. Prithee, pistol your sweet with another bullet for good measure.
[an indeterminate amount of time passes]
NARRATOR: Whither shall you abscond? Whither shall you abscond? I said, Joseph, whither shall you abscond? Whither shall you abscond?
JOSEPH: Mark me well: I shall speed in a southerly course and o'erwalk the border into the United Mexican States. Yond, I may 'scape the consequences of my malefaction, as the authorities shall be uncapable of sounding my whereabouts. Thus I shan't countenance capital punishment, perchance bemeted by a deathsman fastening a halter about my neck. Credit my words: I must needs take my leave posthaste.
NARRATOR: Yes, agreed, you must needs take your leave posthaste. God keep you, Joseph! Godspeed!
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