Quadrivial Quandary:  Logophiles, Rejoice!  Each day we give you four unusual words.  Can you fit them all in one illustrative sentence?

Attempts to resolve the Quandary:


Bloomsday: After that, she left the pub with Mr Bloom and shrithed with him along a gusty road: "did I not make myself clear, Nancy?" and she shook her head, wondering in what way he had communicated something ambiguous enough for her to misconstrue: "well I expected you to do some detecting," and she stopped in her tracks and stared at him, which appeared to discombobulate him, for he paled, perhaps fearing that she might attack him as she had Gilhooly, the reason they were now outside instead of safe and snug, Davy the Landlord having made it abundantly clear that he wouldn't stand for women assaulting customers (men) in his establishment: "fer some 'tis their only refuge, an iffen ye cannot keep yer hauns tae yersel, well, yer not welcome in here, an that applies even tae yerself, Miss Drew, much as I like an respeck ye, and Mr Bloom, I must ask the pair o ye'se tae leave, yer baith barred fer twenty-fower hoors, but iffen yer in decent enuff form termorra an solemnly promise not tae initiate ony mair altercations, I'll reconsider then, good day tae ye'se!" so now she knew her full name and the fact that she was well-known to the man and presumably that explained the Barmaid, Suzie's wink – knowing that it hadn't come from a total stranger somewhat mollified Nancy's initial impressions; but Mr Bloom was speaking again, and she remembered like a lightening flash across her mind that his given name was Leopold! she almost cried out Praise Be, Hail Mary but with being an Agnostic herself and knowing that he was a Jew, she thought it would be, at best irreverent, at worst, the kind of thing that could cause her to be dragged into the Confessional by a passing Priest, who bore a remarkable similarity to Genghis McCann, the local Hard Man, indeed she thought it was likely his brother Father Kublai and marvelled at what could possibly have inspired their Daddy, Jimminy, to choose the least Irish names he could for his two sons – why, the daughters, all seven of them, had been given names like Bridie, Marie, Theresa, perfectly respectable and both Irish and Catholic, and it was only the two boys who'd been saddled with Mongol Warlords for monickers, which wasn't so bad for Genghis, he followed Jimminy into villainy, which maybe was the purpose, while the youngest McCann had got Religion and went straight from school to a Christian Brothers Seminary and much later, after doing time in Rome, had come back to save the souls of his fellow Irish men and women; how effective he was she had no idea, the thought of going down on her knees in front of a Priest gave her the heebiejeebies after an incident in her childhood which she kept boxed away in a back attic of her mind, so securely chained and padlocked that even she couldn't unpick the locks though she'd been well-enough schooled by Leinster Bobbo, an ace housebreaker until the night he'd let himself into a silent Georgian Mansion - under the shroud of the deepest Dublin darkness, only to be savaged by two of the most ferocious canine burglar-alarms you could find in the whole of Irelandhe'd gone straight to the Infirmary after a passing Policeman (not on a Penny Farthing) heard his screams and rescued him with the aid of the Peeler's Special, the heavily weighted truncheon that broke both dogs' skulls, then straight to the Jug on a long stretch in which he'd put his mind to better use and studied Irish History, discovered a latent talent for balladeering and produced a perfectly good song for every Hero in the country's struggles against the British, together with some romantic songs which sold better and kept him in, if not luxury, at least such sufficiently good style that he'd no further use for his lock-pick, crow-bar and sledge-hammer; Prison may not intend to be reviviscent, but in Bobbo's case he was Born Again, he'd gone in a Professional Burglar and came out a Patriotic Songsmith – under his nom de guerre of Liam FitzPatrick – and the thing is, the nobs singing libretti d'amour round a piano in their Georgian music rooms don't associate their author – Bobbo's other nom de plume being Allan Foster – with the man whose Rebel Songs are roared out at Republican rallies: "the thing is. Nancy, this Casket! has me wonderin – it's identical to one me ould Grannie Bloom used to have – her Mammy brought it with her when she an her faimly emigrated from Roosha, in the 1830's when Grannie wis a bairn, it got lost when she an me Papa moved nearer to us twenty years ago, but she's still got the key, an if it fits, well, I'd like to get the thing back an see what's inside," and without breaking stride he swung into Grafton Street, narrowly missing Ould Biddy McCree who was just turning the other way; apologising profusely, he doffed his hat and Ould Biddy gave him a look that could have curdled milk, but because he was talking, Bloom hadn't heard what Nancy had, and she marvelled, as she often did, that the vocabulary of insults possessed by such a dainty and demure-looking person as Ould Biddy was so extensive and that despite her age, apparent frailty and generally obscure memory, she could always find the most apposite words to use in any given situation and to any other person, so specific was it, but Bloom didn't quail from the diatribe, as Nancy would had it been directed at her. for he hadn't heard it, so preoccupied was his mind on the subject of the Casket!" how much are they asking for it?" enquired Nancy; "forty quid," he replied.

(by MissTeriWoman)


A dreaded evil is reviviscent;
We quail before its unforgiving power.
It shrithes around a village made of tents.
Where "cometh the man"?, 
 for truly, "cometh the hour"!
An atheist prays for mercy and relief
While Christians are agnostic underneath.
(by OldRawgabbit)
The Quandary for Tuesday, June 19, 2018 consisted of: Challenge: use all four words together in one illustrative sentence.

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