Four years ago I had to get a tooth pulled because the filling in it from 1975 (that was probably made out of crumbling mercury) just couldn't hold my sad little molar together anymore. At the time, I was too cheap to get an implant. I thought--hey, my husband's had a gaping hole in his mouth since grad school when we were too cheap to get him an implant, and he's doing okay. Sure, eating tortilla chips and anything else with a pointy edge is a dangerous proposition, but I can live with it.
Only now I'm pretty sure that my jaw is permanently out of whack from chewing on one side of my mouth for four years and that I now have an unsightly overbite.
So, Shake-ball, I know that dental hygiene wasn't really on your radar screen back in 1605, but what would you do? Do I suck it up and shell out the $1500 for a new tooth, or do I resign myself to a slow and steady decline into facial deformity?
Answer:
"Leave me a while with the maid. My mind promises with my habit, no loss shall touch her by my company." (Measure for Measure 3.1.177-178)
Interpretation:
Okay, this is the horny Duke pretending to be a man of the cloth so he can get Isabella alone with him and then basically force her to sleep with him to save her brother. Wow. I hadn't even thought of this possibility, but it sounds like you're saying I shouldn't let some guy dressed in white who says he's an oral surgeon put me under. Thanks, Magic Shake-Ball.
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