The hardcore role-players will wake up one day feeling, like a dead weight on their chest, the strain of endless texting in Renaissance Faire English—yet dutifully go on theeing and thouing all the same.

Her mom made her break up with me when she found a note I wrote to Linda; she found it obscene. I found HER obscene.

I have other fish to fry; so good-morrow, my ladies all, good-morrow.

I’ll tell thee all my whole device / When I am in my coach, which stays for us.