Go to, Amos. I do not for a moment believe that you are nearly as offended as you pretend to be by my funny remarks, my good sir, for you are no ignorant poltroon who takes offense over mere trifles! You are as Mercutio, putting on a dramatic display of feigned outrage for the benefit of those worthies standing about you in the street whilst snickering down your sleeve at the common follies of impressionable men. You are as Cyrano, spouting marvelous verse beneath the fair lady's balcony, whilst concealed in the bushes.

In short, sir, I think you secretly thirst for my comments and can hardly wait for the next pearl of wisdom to drop from my lips...

(Heh! Heh!)