Remember, remember the 5th of November, the gunpowder treason and plot.
I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.
Who are you?
Who? Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am in a man in a mask.
Oh, I can see that.
Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation. I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.
Oh. Right.
But on this most auspicious of nights permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet to suggest the character of this dramatis persona. Voila! In view, a humble vaudvillian veteran cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengence, a vendetta held as a votive not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verilly, this vichyssose of verbiage veers most verbose. So let me add that it's my very good honour to meet you, and may call me V.
And now:
Verily, thanking thee.
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