Socrates: Yo Hen, you been waxin mighty wearisome today. Orful pedantrical.

Henry: yes, Socky. I am so solly. Tomorrow the Moon retrogradus em-blixen 88.3 degrees NSNWW, which meaneth that my armor will creak less in the cold & my feather ceaseth to droop. I have emailed Guillaume d'Orange about this & he guarantees Aquitaine-like weather. Also Sir Sancho J., worthy Knight of Gauche-Espagne.

Socrates: Maybe if it warms up a little then you can get orf the internet, huh?

Henry: O, Socky.

Socrates: oy vey Henry!