Your aeolian frumpery is as dust, and shall not stand, Sir Booque. Your quibble is more dysfunctional than I thought. It is a small and twisted sort of quibble, barely worth the patience of peeing through it. But I shall not fail in compassion, and I embrace your quibble and all its auxiliary appurtenances with forgiveness and brotherly affection, as much as can be mustered for so scurrilous a knave.