Brother Faldage inquireth, "Thou art one, Byb [who disdaineth 'they' for 'he']?"

Yea, marry, forsooth, that I be. Fight the good fight for your rights, my ladies faire, and I'm with you. But ye wenches that would brawl in the streets, aroint ye! And yart me no yarts! Have respect to the integrity of our ancient and honourable tongue!

Here endeth the BYB indeterminate pronoun rant, once for all.