My father died a little while ago, and now my mother’s shacking up with my creepy uncle. Should I tell my mother how I feel about my new step-father, or should I bite my tongue?
Dear Dissatisfied Dane,
Your mother is a beast of lusty appetites to throw herself into your uncle’s incestuous embraces so soon after your father’s death. O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain — O most pernicious woman! She hath polluted your honour and her bed. Thus, be thou angry, strong, and resolute and punish her for her transgression. Let thy words be daggers for her heart. And let thy dagger find your uncle’s heart, and plunge him into a murderous abyss.
Or, if thy heart be full of doubt, do nothing. Chastise yourself. Consider suicide. Why not shuffle off thy mortal coil, and dream, and sleep, and be no more?
To be or not to be? Whether your uncle bangs your mother is not the question.
Ok, so I’ve got a crush on this girl, but our families don’t get along very well. What should I do?
Your lady must be fairer than the sun rising in the east! I wonder, is she seasoned and many years your senior with a cottage of her own, or yet but a maid? Of either creature I blame you not for being fond, as the full-bodied, and equally the yet to ripen, in truth, be the orneriest mare, if you be the one to ride them there be rubies in the saddlebag. And yet I doth protest too much, you are met with great hindrance to virtuous maiden head: a patriarch and tyrant.
Get thee to a nunnery and look upon thy fate, for if thou canst climb ‘or the orchard walls of youthful haste and be content with palm to palm as holy palmers kiss then thy name wilt be thy enemy upon ev’ry entrance to that place, and thou wilt be doomed to indulge in the goodly gears of bedraggled hags.
Your advances may yet be an honour the lady dreams not of, but if you chance to capture her entreating eye, be not too bold and prepare to both deny thy father and refuse thy name for it is the fairest of the weaker sex who doth demand too much. Therefore ready yourself to pronounce it faithfully if thou dost love, and seek leave to go to shrift whereupon thou wilt be wed with the agency of a friar-friend, who due to poverty seeks payment for providing you with the pains of wedded bliss.
Upon this day the shackles of familial quarrel shall be cast off and joy shall fill your join-ed bosom. Unless perchance a message of great import is by the stars way-layed. If this be the case then portents of a different sort may swim with your humours, and lie in the “happy” bosom of your obliging bride. Hassen to prevent such a plague from descending on both your houses, for never has there been a tale of greater woe than the tragedy of commitment disrupting the lusty desires of a burgeoning Romeo.