I feel like I'm the little kid here.

[Papa Spot]

LOL

Wise young man. VERY wise.

[Dr Small]

Thank-you dear sir,
and may some day I make such a complimentary statement to other children, as you have this day
gah. Can't you tell I've been reading Ivanhoe too much?

Dr Small

[FirefoxWiz]

gah. Can't you tell I've been reading Ivanhoe too much?

Dr Small

A cow jumped the moon, but a fool he jumps higher;
from Wamba the serf to Wamba the squire!

[Dr Small]

"Truly," said Wamba, without stirring from the spot, "I have
consulted my legs upon this matter, and they are altogether of
opinion, that to carry my gay garments through these sloughs,
would be an act of unfriendship to my sovereign person and royal
wardrobe; wherefore, Gurth, I advise thee to call off Fangs, and
leave the herd to their destiny, which, whether they meet with
bands of travelling soldiers, or of outlaws, or of wandering
pilgrims, can be little else than to be converted into Normans
before morning, to thy no small ease and comfort."

"The swine turned Normans to my comfort!" quoth Gurth; "expound
that to me, Wamba, for my brain is too dull, and my mind too
vexed, to read riddles."

"Why, how call you those grunting brutes running about on their
four legs?" demanded Wamba.

"Swine, fool, swine," said the herd, "every fool knows that."

"And swine is good Saxon," said the Jester; "but how call you the
sow when she is flayed, and drawn, and quartered, and hung up by
the heels, like a traitor?"

"Pork," answered the swine-herd.

"I am very glad every fool knows that too," said Wamba, "and
pork, I think, is good Norman-French; and so when the brute
lives, and is in the charge of a Saxon slave, she goes by her
Saxon name; but becomes a Norman, and is called pork, when she is
carried to the Castle-hall to feast among the nobles; what dost
thou think of this, friend Gurth, ha?"