"Damn your blood," you say, "I shall meet thee at w'rk."

Pardon me, kind sir,

For i believe thou despiseth me for my rather immeasurable external beauty.

Detest me not for my intimidatingly angelic sculpt,

F'r shall I suggest,

Perhaps you'd be rid of jealosy

If you'd be rid of ye olde yee-yee ass haircut,

And perhaps you'd aquire some fine maidens apon thy member.

Perhaps Madame Tanisha may even drop in for a dialogue

If only perhaps she wasn't in intimate relations with ye stone mason 

or ye blacksmith she initiateth coitus with,

Squire.