“He’s Nice to Peasants,” and Other Red Flags to Look for if Thou Art Dating a Nobleman
Gramercy for reading Ye Olde Tyme News! Subscribe for free to bend thy knee before The King. Many benevolent graces wouldst be bestowed upon thee if thou were to share it amongst thy fellow peasants.
Bend thy knee:
Every lady desires betrothal to a nobleman of equal or higher station to herself, such that she may acquire wealth, status, and some other ancillary benefits of love. But often tymes even the haughtiest of princes require a lady to proceed with caution. Herein be some red flags to look for if thou findest thineself dating an earl, a grandee, or any nobleman of seemingly goode repute.
He’s nice to peasants.
A preponderance of cockatrices adorn his heraldic coat of arms. On a field vair, no less.
He’s frequently “away on Crusade.”
He’s quite vocal about the fact that he plans to spend thine entire dowry on greaves.
There are way too many kerchiefs, garlands, and general tokens of affection from other maidens festooning his jousting lance.
He claims to lord over 4,000 hectares of fertile land, but only 2,000 hectares of that is arable, at best. And most of that is cabbages.
His opinions on scutage are arcane.
He wears pointy shoes long after Don’t Wear Pointy Shoes Anymore Day, in strict violation of Fashun Law.
He makes many an uncouth jest in the company of those whose station demands couthness.
He can hardly tell a herigaut from a houppelande.
He rarely sends thee letters, but when he does they arrive well past Compline and read simply, “Beest thou wakeful?”
He sayeth all seven of his ex-wives were “crazy,” such that each of them “accidentally” “beheaded herself” “with his sword” “and no witnesses present save his personal body disposer.”
Whenever you are apart, he demands that thou isolates thyself in a tower at his remote castle in the Lodewood Vale, even though thou hast a perfectly goode tower in which to isolate thyself at thine own castle.
Thou hast been dating him long-distance via crystal ball these past three winters, but he constantly hath an excuse not to meet thee in person and keeps asking thee to send him money for his “ailing horse.”
He claims the boils riddling his pestilent body are “just a little plague.”
His codpiece has a mustache.