a!)  of two syllables and  six
letters, with a  deltic origin  and a  ruinous end, (ah dust oh  dust!)  can
boost of having a) the most extensive public park  in the world, b) the most
expensive brewing  industry  in the world, c) the  most  expansive  peopling
thoroughfare in the world, d) the most phillohippuc theobibbous pa--pulation
in the world: and harmonise your abecedeed responses?
     Answer: a) Delfas. And when ye'll  hear  the gould hommers of my heart,
my  floxy  loss, bingbanging  again  the  ribs  of  yer resistance  and  the
tenderbolts  of my rivets working to your  destraction ye'll be sheverin wi'
all yer dinful sobs when we'll  go riding acope-acurly, you with yer  orange
garland and me with my conny cordial, down the greaseways of rollicking into
the waters of wetted life. b)  Dorhqk. And sure where can you have such good
old chimes anywhere, and  leave you, as on the  Mash and how'tis I  would be
engaging you with my plovery soft accents  and descanting upover  the  scene
beunder me of your loose vines in their hairafall with them two loving loofs
braceleting  the  slims  of  your  ankles  and your mouth's flower  rose and
sinking ofter the soapstone of  silvry speech. c) Nublid. Isha, why wouldn't
we  be happy,  avourneen,  on. the mills'money  he'll soon be leaving you as
soon as I've my own owned brooklined Georgian mansion's lawn to recruit upon
by  Doctor Cheek's special orders and  my  copper's panful of  soybeans  and
Irish in  my east hand and a James's Gate in my west, after all  the errears
and erroriboose of combarative embottled history, and your goodself churning
over the newleaved butter (more power to you), the choicest and the cheapest
from Atlanta to  Oconee, while I'll be drowsing in the gaarden. d) Dalway. I
hooked my  thoroughgoing trotty  the first down Spanish Place, Mayo I  make,
Tuam I take, Sligo's sleek  but Galway's grace. Holy eel and Sainted Salmon,
chucking chub and  ducking dace, Rodiron's not your aequal! says she, leppin
half  the lane. abcd) A bell a  bell  on Shalldoll Steepbell, ond  be'll  go
massplon pristmoss speople, Shand praise gon ness our fayst moan neople, our
prame Shandeepen, pay name muy feepence, moy nay non Aequallllllll!
     5.  Whad  slags  of a  loughladd would retten smuttyflesks,emptout  old
mans, melk vitious geit, scareoff jackinjills fra  tiddle anding, smoothpick
waste papish pastures,  insides man  outsiders  angell,  sprink dirted water
around village, newses, tobaggon  and sweeds, plain general kept, louden  on
the kirkpeal,  foottreats given to malafides, outshriek hyelp hyelf  nor his
hair efter buggelawrs,  might underhold  three  barnets,  putzpolish  crotty
bottes,  nightcoover all fireglims, serve's time till  baass, grindstone his
kniveses, fullest boarded, lewd man of the method of godliness, perchance he
nieows and thans sits  in the  spoorwaggen, X.W.C.A. on Z.W.C.U., Doorsteps,
Limited, or Baywindaws Bros swobber preferred. Walther Clausetter's and Sons
with the H. E.  Chimneys' Company  to not skreve, will, on advices, be bacon
or  stable  hand, must  begripe fullstandingly irers' langurge, jublander or
northquain  bigger prefurred, all  duties, kine rights, family fewd, outings
fived,  may get earnst, no  get combitsch,  profusional drinklords to please
obstain, he is  fatherlow soundigged inmoodmined pershoon but  aleconnerman,
nay, that must he isn't?
     Answer: Pore ole Joe!
     6. What means the saloon slogan Summon In The Housesweep Dinah?
     Answer: Tok. Galory bit of the sales  of Cloth nowand I have to beeswax
the bringing  in all the claub  of the porks to us how I thawght I  knew his
stain on the flower if me ask and can could speak and he called by me midden
name Tik. I am  your honey honeysugger phwhtphwht  tha Bay  and who bruk the
dandleass  and  who  seen the blackcullen jam for Tomorrha's  big pickneck I
hope it'll  pour prais the Climate of all Ireland I heard the grackles and I
skimming the  crock on all your  sangwidges fippence per  leg per drake.Tuk.
And who eight the last of the goosebellies  that was mowlding from  measlest
years and who leff that there and who put that here and who let the kilkenny
stale the chump. Tek. And whowasit youwasit propped the  pot in the yard and
whatinthe  nameofsen lukeareyou  rubbinthe  sideofthe  flureofthe lobbywith.
Shite! will you have a plateful? Tak.
     7.  Who are those component partners of our societate, the doorboy, the
cleaner,  the sojer, the crook, the  squeezer,  the lounger, the curman, the
tourabout, the mussroomsniffer, the bleakablue tramp, the funpowtherplother,
the  christymansboxer, from  their  pr's sal's  and  Donnybrook  prater  and
Roebuck's  campos and the Ager Arountown and Crumglen's grassy but Kimmage's
champ  and  Ashtown  fields and Cabra  fields and Finglas fields and  Santry
fields and the feels of Raheny and their fails and Baldoygle to them who are
latecomers  all  the year's  round by anticipation, are the  porters of  the
passions  in   virtue   of   retroratiocination,  and,  contributting  their
conflingent controversies of differentiation, unify their voxes in a vote of
vaticination, who crunch the crusts of comfort due to depredation, drain the
mead for  misery  to  incur  intoxication, condone every evil  by  practical
justification and condam  any  good to its own gratification, who are ruled,
roped,  duped and  driven by those numen daimons,  the  feekeepers at  their
laws,    nightly    consternation,    fortnightly    fornication,    monthly
miserecordation and omniannual recreation, doyles when they  deliberate  but
sullivans when they are  swordsed, Matey, Teddy,  Simon, Jorn, Pedher, Andy,
Barty, Philly, Jamesy Mor and Tom, Matt and Jakes Mac Carty?
     Answer: The Morphios!
     8. And how war yore maggies?
     Answer: They war loving, they love laughing,  they laugh weeping,  they
weep smelling, they smell  smiling, they smile hating, they  hate  thinking,
they  think  feeling,  they  feel tempting,  they  tempt  daring, they  dare
waiting, they wait taking, they  take thanking, they  thank seeking, as born
for  lorn in lore of love to live  and wive by wile and rile by rule of ruse
'reathed rose and hose  hol'd home, yeth cometh elope  year, coach and four,
Sweet Peck-at-my-Heart picks one man more.
     9. Now, to be on anew and basking  again in the  panaroma of all flores
of speech, if a human being duly fatigued by his dayety in the sooty, having
plenxty off time on  his  gouty hands  and vacants of space  at his sleepish
feet  and as hapless behind  the dreams of accuracy as any camelot prince of
dinmurk, were at this  auctual futule preteriting unstant,  in the states of
suspensive exanimation, accorded, throughout the eye  of a  noodle,  with an
earsighted  view  of old  hopeinhaven with all the ingredient  and egregiunt
whights and ways to which in the curse of his  persistence the course of his
tory will  had  been having  recourses, the  reverberration  of knotcracking
awes,  the  reconjungation  of   nodebinding   ayes,  the  redissolusingness
of.mindmouldered ease and the thereby hang  of the Hoel of it, could such  a
none,   whiles   even  led   comesilencers  to  comeliewithhers   and   till
intempestuous Nox should catch the gallicry and spot lucan's dawn, byhold at
ones what is main and why tis twain, how one once meet melts in tother wants
poignings, the sap  rising, the foles falling, the nimb  now nihilant  round
the girlyhead so becoming,  the wrestless  in  the womb,  all the  rivals to
allsea, shakeagain, O disaster! shakealose, Ah how starring!  but Heng's got
a bit of  Horsa's  nose and Jeff's got the signs of  Ham round his mouth and
the beau that  spun beautiful pales as  it palls, what roserude and oragious
grows gelb and greem,  blue out the ind  of it !  Violet's  dyed! then  what
would that fargazer seem to seemself to seem seeming of, dimm it all?
     Answer: A collideorscape!
     10. What bitter's  love but yurning, what' sour  lovemutch but  a  bref
burning till shee that drawes dothe smoake retourne?
     Answer:  I know,  pepette,  of course, dear,  but  listen,  precious  !
Thanks, pette, those are lovely,  pitounette,  delicious! But mind the wind,
sweet! What exquisite hands you have,  you angiol, if  you didn't  gnaw your
nails,  isn't it a  wonder you're not achamed  of me, you  pig,  you perfect
little  pigaleen!  I'll nudge  you  in a minute  ! I  bet you  use her  best
Perisian  smear off  her  vanity table to make them look so rosetop glowstop
nostop. I know  her.  Slight me,  would  she?  For every got  I care!  Three
creamings a day, the first during her shower and wipe  off with tissue. Then
after cleanup and of  course before  retiring. Beme shawl, when I  think  of
that espos of a Clancarbry, the foodbrawler,  of the sociationist party with
hiss blackleaded chest, hello, Prendregast! that you, Innkipper, and all his
fourteen other  fullback maulers or hurling stars or whatever the dagos they
are, baiting  at my Lord  Ornery's, just becups they won  the egg  and spoon
there so ovally provencial at Balldole. My  Eilish assent he seed  makes his
admiracion. He is seeking  an opening  and means to be  first with me as his
belle  alliance. Andoo  musnoo play zeloso! Soso do todas. Such  is Spanish.
Stoop alittle closer, fealse! Delightsome simply!  Like Jolio and Romeune. I
haven't  fell  so turkish  for ages  and  ages! Mine's me of squisious,  the
chocolate  with a soul. Extraordinary! Why, what are they all, the mucky lot
of them only? Sht! I  wouldn't pay  three hairpins for  them. Peppt!  That's
rights, hold it steady! Leg me pull. Pu! Come big to Iran. Poo! What are you
nudging for? No, I just  thought you were. Listen, loviest! Of course it was
too  kind of  you,  miser,  to remember  my sighs  in  shockings,  my  often
expressed  wish when  you were wandering about my  trousseaurs and before  I
forget it don't forget, in your extensions to  my personality, when knotting
my remembrancetie, shoeweek will be trotting back with red  heels at the end
of  the  moon but look what  the fool  bought  cabbage head  and, as I shall
answer  to gracious  heaven,  I'll always  in always remind  of  snappy  new
girters, me being always the  one for charms with  my very best in proud and
gloving  even  if  he was  to be vermillion miles my  youth to live on,  the
rubberend  Mr  Polkingtone,  the  quonian  fleshmonger   who  Mother  Browne
solicited me for unlawful converse  with, with her mug of October (a pots on
it!),  creaking around on his  old shanksaxle like  a crosty old  cornquake.
Airman, waterwag, terrier, blazer! I'm fine, thanks ever! Ha! O mind you poo
tickly.  Sall I  puhim  in momou. Mummum. Funny spot  to have a  fingey! I'm
terribly sorry, I  swear to you I am ! May  you never  see me in my birthday
pelts seenso  tutu  and that her blanches mainges  may  rot  leprous off her
whatever winking maggis I'll bet by your cut you go fleurting after with all
the glass on her and the jumps in her stomewhere! Haha! I suspected she was!
Sink her! May they fire  her  for a barren ewe ! So she says:  Tay for thee?
Well, I saith: Angst so mush: and  desired she might not  take it amiss if I
esteemed  her  but an odd. If I did  ate toughturf I'm not a  mishymissy. Of
course I  know, pettest, you're so  learningful and considerate in yourself,
so friend of vegetables, you long cold cat you! Please by acquiester to meek
my acquointance! Codling, snakelet, iciclist! My diaper has more life to it!
Who drowned you in drears, man, or are you  pillale with ink? Did a weep get
past the gates of your  pride? My tread  on the clover, sweetness? Yes,  the
buttercups told me, hug me, damn it all,  and I'll kiss you back to life, my
peachest. I mean to make you suffer, meddlar, and  I don't care this fig for
contempt of courting. That I chid you,sweet sir? You know I'm  tender  by my
eye. Can't  you read by  dazzling ones  through me true? Bite  my laughters,
drink my tears. Pore into me, volumes, spell me stark and spill me swooning.
I just don't care what my thwarters think. Transname  me loveliness, now and
here  me for  all times ! I'd risk a  policeman passing  by, Magrath or even
that beggar  of a  boots at the Post. The flame? O, pardone!  That was what?
Ah,  did  you  speak,  stuffstuff?  More poestries  from  Chickspeer's  with
gleechoreal music or a  jaculation from the garden of the soul. Of I be leib
in  the immoralities? O, you mean the strangle for love and the sowiveall of
the prettiest? Yep, we open hap coseries in the home. And once upon a week I
improve on myself I'm so  keen on that New Free Woman with novel inside. I'm
always as tickled as can be over Man  in a Surplus by the Lady  who Pays the
Rates. But I'm as pie as is possible. Let's root out Brimstoker and give him
the thrall of our lives. It's Dracula's nightout. For creepsake don't make a
flush! Draw the shades, curfe you, and I'll beat any sonnamonk to love. Holy
bug, how my highness would jump to make you flame your halve a bannan in two
when I'd run my burning torchlight through (to adore me there and then cease
to be?  Whatever  for, blossoms?) Your  hairmejig if you  had  one. If  I am
laughing with you? No, lovingest, I'm not  so dying to take  my  rise out of
you,  adored. Not in the  very  least. True as God  made  my Mamaw hiplength
modesty coatmawther! It's only  because the rison is I'm only any girl,  you
lovely fellow  of my dreams, and because old somebooby  is not a roundabout,
my trysting of the tulipies,  like that puff  pape bucking Daveran assoiling
us behinds.  What a  nerve! He thinks  that's  what the vesprey's  for.  How
vain's that hope  in cleric's  heart  Who still  pursues th'adult' rous art,
Cocksure that rusty gown  of his Will make  fair  Sue forget his  phiz! Tame
Schwipps. Blessed Marguerite bosses,  I  hope  they threw away the  mould or
else  we'll  have  Ballshossers  and  Sourdamapplers   with  their   medical
assassiations all over the  place. But  hold hard till  I've got my latchkey
vote and I'll teach him when to wear what  woman callours. On account of the
gloss of the gleison Hasaboobrawbees  isabeaubel. And because, you pluckless
lankaloot,  I  hate the very  thought of the  thought of  you  and  because,
dearling, of  course, adorest, I was always meant for an engindear from  the
French college, to be musband,  nomme d'engien, when we do and contract with
encho  tencho  solver  when  you  are  married to  reading and writing which
pleasebusiness now  won't be long for he's so loopy  on me and  I'm so leapy
like since the day he carried me from the boat, my saviored of eroes, to the
beach and I left on his shoulder one fair hair to guide hand and mind to its
softness.  Ever  so  sorry! I beg  your pardon,  I  was  listening to  every
treasuried word I said  fell from my dear mot's tongue otherwise how could I
see what  you were thinking of our granny? Only I wondered if I threw out my
shaving  water.  Anyway, here's my  arm, pulletneck. Gracefully yours.  Move
your  mouth  towards  minth, more, preciousest,  more on more! To please me,
treasure.  Don't be  a, I'm not going to! Sh!  nothing!  A cricri somewhere!
Buybuy!  I'm fly!  Hear,  pippy, under  the limes. You know  bigtree are all
against gravstone.  They  hisshistenency.  Garnd ond  mand !  So  chip chirp
chirrup, cigolo, for the lug of Migo!  The little passdoor, I go you before,
so,  and you're at  my apron  stage. Shy is him, dovey? Musforget there's an
audience.   I  have  been  lost,  angel.  Cuddle,  ye  divil  ye!  It's  our
toot-a-toot. Hearhere! Sensation! Let them, their whole four courtships! Let
them, Bigbawl  and  his boosers'  eleven  makes twelve territorials. The Old
Sot's Hole  that wants wide streets to commission their noisense in,  at the
Mitchells  v.  Nicholls. Aves Selvae  Acquae Valles!  And my waiting  twenty
classbirds, sitting on their stiles! Let me finger  their  eurhythmytic. And
you'll see if I'm selfthought. They're all  of them out  to please. Wait! In
the  name of. And all  the holly.  And some the  mistle  and it Saint  Yves.
Hoost! Ahem! There's Ada, Bett, Celia,  Delia,  Ena,  Fretta,  Gilda, Hilda,
Ita, Jess, Katty, Lou, (they  make me cough  as  sure as I read them)  Mina,
Nippa, Opsy,  Poll,  Queeniee, Ruth, Saucy, Trix, Una,  Vela, Wanda,  Xenia,
Yva, Zulma, Phoebe, Thelma. And Mee! The  reformatory boys is goaling in for
the  church  so  we've  all  comefeast  like  the  groupsuppers  and  caught
lipsolution from Anty Pravidance under penancies for myrtle sins. When their
bride  was married all my belles  began  ti  ting. A ring a ring a rosaring!
Then everyone  will hear of it. Whoses wishes is the farther to my thoughts.
But  I'll  plant them a poser for their nomanclatter. When they're out  with
the daynurse doing Chaperon  Mall.  Bright pigeons all over the whirrld will
fly with my  mistletoe message round their loveribboned necks and d crumb of
my cake for each  chasta dieva.  We  keeps  all and sundry  papers.  In  th'
amourlight, O  my darling! No, I swear to you  by Fibsburrow  churchdome and
Sainte Andr'e's  Undershift, by all I hold  secret from  my world and in  my
underworld of nighties and naughties and all  the other wonderwearlds! Close
your, notmust look! Now open, pet, your lips, pepette, like I used  my sweet
parted lipsabuss  with Dan Holohan of facetious memory taught me  after  the
flannel dance, with the proof of  love, up Smock  Alley  the first night  he
smelled pouder and I coloured beneath my  fan, pipetta mia, when you learned
me the linguo to melt. Whowham  would have ears like ours,  the blackhaired!
Do you  like that, silenzioso? Are you  enjoying,  this  same little  me, my
life, my love? Why do  you  like my whisping? Is it not divinely deluscious?
But in't it bafforyou? Misi misi! Tell me till my thrillme comes! I will not
break the seal. I am enjoying it still, I swear  I am! Why do you prefer its
in  these dark nets, if  why  may  ask,  my  sweetykins? Sh  sh! Longears is
flying. No, sweetissest, why would that ennoy me? But don't! You  want to be
slap well slapped  for that. Your delighted lips, love, be  careful! Mind my
duvetyne  dress above  all!  It's  golded  silvy, the newest  sextones  with
princess effect. For Rutland blue's got out of  passion. So, so, my precious
! O,  I can see the cost, chare! Don't tell me! Why, the boy in sheeps' lane
knows that. If I sell whose,  dears? Was I sold here' tears?  You mean those
conversation  lozenges? How  awful!  The bold  shame  of  me  !  I wouldn't,
chickens, not for all  the juliettes in the twinkly  way!  I could snap them
when I see them winking at me in bed. I didn't  did so, my  intended, or was
going  to or  thinking  of. Shshsh!  Don't  start like  that, you  wretch! I
thought ye knew all and more, ye aucthor, to explique to ones the significat
of their exsystems with your nieu nivulon lead. It's only another queer fish
or other in Brinbrou's damned  old trouchorous  river again, Gothewishegoths
bless  us  and  spare her! And  gibos rest from  the  bosso ! Excuse me  for
swearing,  love, I swear to  the sorrasims  on their trons of Uian I  didn't
mean to by  this alpin  armlet!  Did you really never  in all our  cantalang
lives speak clothse to a girl's before? No! Not even to the charmermaid? How
marfellows! Of course I believe you, my own dear doting liest, when you tell
me.  As I'd  live to, O, I'd love to! Liss,  liss!  I muss whiss! Never that
ever or I can remember dearstreaming faces,  you may go through me! Never in
all my whole white life of my matchless and pair. Or ever  for bitter be the
frucht  of this hour! With my whiteness I thee woo and bind my silk breasths
I  thee bound!  Always,  Amory,  amor  andmore!  Till  always,  thou lovest!
Shshshsh! So long as the lucksmith. Laughs!
     II. If  you met on  the  binge a poor acheseyeld from Ailing,  when the
tune of his  tremble shook shimmy on shin, while his countrary  raged in the
weak of his wailing, like  a rugilant pugilant Lyon  O'Lynn; if he maundered
in misliness,  plaining  his  plight or,  played fox and lice,  pricking and
dropping  hips  teeth,  or  wringing  his handcuffs  for  peace,  the  blind
blighter,  praying  Dieuf and Domb Nostrums  foh thomethinks  to eath; if he
weapt while  he leapt and guffalled quith a quhimper, made cold blood a blue
mundy and  no  bones without flech, taking kiss, kake or  kick with  a suck,
sigh or simper, a diffle to  larn and a dibble to lech;  if the fain shinner
pegged  you to shave  his  immartial, wee skillmustered shoul with his  ooh,
hoodoodoo ! broking wind that to wiles, woemaid sin he was partial, we don't
think, Jones, we'd care to this evening, would you?
     Answer:  No, blank ye! So you think I have impulsivism? Did  they  tell
you I am one of the fortysixths?  And I suppose you heard I had a  wag on my
ears? And I  suppose they  told you too that my roll of life is not natural?
But before proceeding to conclusively confute this begging question it would
be  far  fitter for  you,  if  you dare! to  hasitate to  consult  with  and
consequentially  attempt  at  my  disposale  of the  same  dime-cash problem
elsewhere naturalistically of  course, from the blinkpoint of  so  eminent a
spatialist.  From it you will  here notice,  Schott, upon  my for  the first
remarking you that  the sophology of Bitchson  while  driven  as under  by a
purely  dime-dime  urge  is not without  his  cashcash  characktericksticks,
borrowed for  its nonce ends from the fiery goodmother Miss Fortune (who the
lost time we had the pleasure we  have had our little recherch'  brush with,
what, Schott?) and as I further could  have told you as brisk as your D.B.C.
behaviouristically paillet'  with a coat of homoid icing which is in reality
only a  done by chance ridiculisation  of  the  whoo-whoo and where's  hairs
theorics of Winestain. To put it all the more plumbsily. The speechform is a
mere sorrogate. Whilst the quality and tality (I shall explex what you ought
to  mean by  this with  its  proper when  and where  and why and how  in the
subsequent sentence) are alternativomentally harrogate and  arrogate, as the
gates may be.
     Talis  is a  word often abused  by many  passims (I  am working  out  a
quantum theory about it for it is really most tantumising state of affairs).
A pessim may  frequent  you to say: Have you been seeing much  of  Talis and
Talis those times? optimately meaning:  Will you put up at hree of irish? Or
a ladyeater may perhaps have casualised as you temptoed her ... la sourdine:
Of your plates?  Is  Talis de  Talis, the swordswallower,  who is on  at the
Craterium the same Talis von Talis, the penscrusher, no  funk you ! who runs
his duly mile?  Or this is a perhaps cleaner example. At a recent postvortex
piece infustigation of a determinised case of chronic spinosis  an extension
lecturer on The Ague who out of matter of form was trying his seesers,  Dr's
Het Ubeleeft, borrowed the question:  Why's which Suchman's talis qualis? to
whom, as a fatter of  macht, Dr Gedankje  of  Stoutgirth, who was wiping his
whistle, toarsely retoarted:  While thou  beast' one zoom of a whorl! (Talis
and Talis originally mean the same thing, hit it's: Qualis.)
     Professor Loewy-Brueller (though  as  I shall promptly prove  his whole
account of  the Sennacherib  as  distinct from  the Shalmanesir sanitational
reforms  and of the Mr Skekels  and Dr Hydes problem in the  same connection
differs toto coelo from the fruit  of my own investigations  --  though  the
reason I went to Jericho must remain for certain reasons  a political secret
--  especially as I  shall shortly be  wanted  in  Cavantry, I  congratulate
myself, for the same and other reasons -- as being again hopelessly vitiated
by  what I  have now resolved to call the dime  and cash diamond fallacy) in
his  talked off confession which recently  met with such a leonine uproar on
its escape after its confinement Why am I not born like a Gentileman and why
am I now so speakable about  my own  eatables (Feigenbaumblatt  and  Father,
Judapest, 5688,  A.M.)  whole-heartedly takes off  his  gabbercoat and  wig,
honest  draughty fellow, in his public interest, to make us see  how though,
as he says: 'by Allswill' the inception and the descent  and the endswell of
Man is temporarily wrapped  in obscenity, looking through at these accidents
with  the faroscope  of  television, (this nightlife instrument  needs still
some  subtractional betterment  in the  readjustment of the more refrangible
angles  to  the squeals of his  hypothesis  on the outer  tin sides),  I can
easily believe heartily in my own most spacious immensity as my ownhouse and
microbemost cosm when I am reassured by ratio that the cube of my volumes is
to the  surfaces of their subjects as the sphericity  of these globes (I  am
very pressing for a parliamentary motion this term which, under my guidance,
would establish the deleteriousness of  decorousness in the morbidisation of
the modern mandaboutwoman type) is to the feracity of Fairynelly's vacuum. I
need  not anthrapologise for any obintentional (I must here correct all that
school  of neoitalian or paleoparisien schola of  tinkers  and spanglers who
say  I'm  wrong  parcequeue  out of revolscian from romanitis I  want to be)
downtrodding on my foes. Professor Levi-Brullo, F.D. of SexeWeiman-Eitelnaky
finds, from  experiments  made  by  hinn  with his Nuremberg eggs in the one
hands and the watches cunldron apan the oven, though it is astensably a case
of Ket's rebollions cooling  the  Popes  back, because the  number of squeer
faiths  in  weekly  circulation  will  not  be  appreciably augmented by the
notherslogging of my cupolar clods.  What the romantic  in  rags pines after
like  all tomtompions haunting crevices for a  deadbeat  escupement and what
het  importunes  our  Mitleid  for  in  accornish  with  the  Mortadarthella
taradition  is the poorest commononguardiant waste of time. His  everpresent
toes are always  in retaliessian  out throuth his  overpast boots.  Hear him
squak!  Teek heet  to that  looswallawer how he  bolo the bat! Tyro a toray!
When Mullocky won the couple of colds,  when  we  were stripping  in  number
three, I would like the neat drop that would malt in my mouth but  I fail to
see when  (I am purposely refraining from expounding the obvious  fallacy as
to the  specific gravitates of the two deglutables implied nor to the lapses
lequou  asousiated  with  the   royal   gorge  through   students  of  mixed
hydrostatics  and  pneumodipsics will after some  difficulties  grapple away
with  my  meinungs). Myrrdin aloer! as  old  Marsellas Cambriannus puts his.
But, on Professor Llewellys  ap Bryllars, F.D., Ph. Dr's showings, the plea,
if he pleads, is all posh and robbage on a melodeontic scale since his man's
when is no otherman's quandour (Mine, dank you?) while,-- for  aught I  care
for  the contrary,  the all is where in love as war and the plane  where  me
arts soar you'd aisy rouse a thunder from and where I cling true'tis there I
climb tree and where Innocent looks best (pick!) there's holly in his ives.
     As  my  explanations  here  are  probably  above  your  understandings,
lattlebrattons, though as augmentatively uncomparisoned as Cadwan, Cadwallon
and  Cadwalloner,  I  shall  revert  to  a  more  expletive method  which  I
frequently use when  I have to sermo with muddlecrass pupils. Imagine for my
purpose  that  you are a  squad  of  urchins,  snifflynosed,  goslingnecked,
clothyheaded, tangled  in your lacings,  tingled  in  your pants,  etsitaraw
etcicero. And you,  Bruno Nowlan,  take  your tongue out of  your inkpot! As
none of  you knows javanese I will give all my  easyfree translation  of the
old fabulist's parable.  Allaboy Minor, take your head out of your  satchel!
Audi, Joe Peters! Exaudi facts !
     The Mookse and The Gripes.
     Gentes  and  laitymen,  fullstoppers  and  semicolonials,  hybreds  and
lubberds !
     Eins within a space and a wearywide space it wast  ere wohned a Mookse.
The onesomeness wast alltolonely, archunsitslike,  broady oval, and a Mookse
he  would  a  walking go  (My  hood!  cries Antony Romeo),so one  grandsumer
evening, after a great morning and  his good supper of  gammon and spittish,
having flabelled his eyes, pilleoled his nostrils, vacticanated his ears and
palliumed his  throats, he put  on  his impermeable, seized his  impugnable,
harped  on his crown and stepped out of his immobile  De Rure Albo (socolled
becauld it was chalkfull of masterplasters and had borgeously letout gardens
strown with cascadas, pintacostecas, horthoducts and currycombs) and set off
from Ludstown a spasso to see how badness was badness in the weirdest of all
pensible ways.
     As he  set off  with his  father's  sword, his lancia spezzata, he  was
girded on, and with that between his legs and his tarkeels, our once in only
Bragspear, he clanked, to my clinking,  from veetoes to threetop, every inch
of an immortal.
     He had not walked over a pentiadpair of parsecs  from his  azylium when
at    the    turning    of    the    Shinshone     Lanteran    near    Saint
Bowery's-without-his-Walls  he  came (secunding to the one  one oneth of the
propecies, Amnis  Limina Permanent) upon the most unconsciously boggylooking
stream he  ever locked his eyes with. Out of  the colliens it took a rise by
daubing  itself Ninon. It looked little and it smelt of brown and it thought
in narrows  and  it talked showshallow. And as it rinn it dribbled like  any
lively  purliteasy: My, my, my! Me and me! Little down dream  don't  I  love
thee!
     And, I  declare, what was there on the yonder  bank of  the stream that
would  be  a river, parched  on a  limb of the olum, bolt downright, but the
Gripes?  And  no doubt he was fit to be dried for why had he not been having
the juice of his times?
     His pips  had been neatly all  drowned on him; his  polps were charging
odours every older minute; he was quickly for getting the dresser's desdaign
on  the  flyleaf of his frons; and he  was quietly  for giving the bailiff's
distrain on  to  the bulkside  of  his cul  de  Pompe. In all  his  specious
heavings, as  be  lived  by Optimus Maximus, the  Mookse  had never seen his
Dubville brooderon-low so nigh to a pickle.
     Adrian   (that   was   the   Mookse   now's   assumptinome)  stuccstill
phiz-...--phiz  to the Gripes in  an accessit of  aurignacian. But Allmookse
must to Moodend much as Allrouts, austereways or wastersways, in roaming run
through Room. Hic sor a stone, singularly illud, and on hoc stone Seter satt
huc sate which it  filled  quite poposterously and by acclammitation to  its
fullest justotoryum and whereopum with his unfallable encyclicling  upom his
alloilable, diupetriark of the wouest, and the athemystsprinkled pederect he
always walked with, Deusdedit, cheek by  jowel with his frisherman's blague?
Bellua Triumphanes, his everyway addedto wallat's collectium, for yea longer
he  lieved yea broader he betaught of it, the fetter, the summe and the haul
it  cost, he looked  the first and last  micahlike  laicness of Quartus  the
Fifth and Quintus  the Sixth  and Sixtus the Seventh giving allnight sitting
to Lio the Faultyfindth.
     -- Good appetite us, sir Mookse ! How do you  do it? cheeped the Gripes
in a  wherry whiggy maudelenian woice  and  the  jackasses  all  within bawl
laughed and  brayed for his  intentions  for they knew their sly  toad lowry
now.  I  am  rarumominum  blessed to see you, my dear mouster. Will you  not
perhopes tell me everything  if you are pleased, sanity? All about aulne and
lithial and allsall allinall about awn and liseias? Ney?
     Think of it! O miserendissimest retempter! A Gripes!
     -- Rats!  bullowed the Mookse most telesphorously, the concionator, and
the sissymusses and the zozzymusses in their robenhauses quailed to hear his
tardeynois at all for  you  cannot wake a  silken nouse out of a hoarse oar.
Blast yourself and your anathomy infairioriboos! No, hang you for  an animal
rurale! I am superbly in my supremest poncif! Abase you, baldyqueens! Gather
behind me, satraps! Rots!
     --  I  am till infinity obliged with you,  bowed the  Gripes, his whine
having  gone to his palpruy head. I am still always having a  wish on all my
extremities. By the watch, what is the time, pace?
     Figure it! The pining peever! To a Mookse!
     --  Ask  my index, mund my achilles,  swell my  obolum, woshup my  nase
serene, answered  the Mookse, rapidly  by  turning clement, urban, eugenious
and  celestian in the formose of good grogory humours. Quote awhore? That is
quite about what I came on  my missions  with my intentions  laudibiliter to
settle  with  you, barbarousse. Let thor be orlog. Let Pauline be Irene. Let
you  be Beeton. And let  me be Los  Angeles. Now measure  your  length.  Now
estimate my  capacity. Well, sour? Is this space of our  couple of hours too
dimensional for you, temporiser? Will you give you up? Como? Fuert it?
     Sancta Patientia! You should have  heard  the voice that answered him !
Culla vosellina.
     -- I was just thinkling upon that, swees Mooksey, but, for all the rime
on my  raisins,  if I  connow make my submission, I cannos give you up,  the
Gripes      whimpered     from     nethermost      of      his      wanhope.
Ishallassoboundbewilsothoutoosezit. My  tumble, loudy  bullocker, is my own.
My velicity  is too fit  in  one stockend.  And my spetial inexshellsis  the
belowing things ab ove. But I will never be abler to tell Your Honoriousness
(here  he  near  lost  his   limb)  though  my  corked  father  was  bott  a
pseudowaiter, whose o'cloak you ware.
     Incredible! Well, hear the inevitable.
     --   Your   temple,  sus  in  cribro!   Semperexcommunicambiambisumers.
Tugurios-in-Newrobe  or Tukurias-in-Ashies. Novarome, my  creature, blievend
bleives. My building space in lyonine city is always to let to leonlike Men,
the  Mookse in a most consistorous  allocution pompifically  with  immediate
jurisdiction constantinently concludded (what a crammer for the shapewrucked
Gripes!). And I regret to proclaim that it is out of my temporal to help you
from being killed by  inchies, (what a thrust!), as we first  met each other
newwhere  so airly.  (Poor little sowsieved  subsquashed Gripes! I  begin to
feel  contemption  for  him!).  My  side,thank  decretals,  is  as  safe  as
motherour's houses, he continued,  and I can  seen from my holeydome what it
is  to be  wholly  sane. Unionjok  and  be joined to yok! Parysis, tu  sais,
crucycrooks, belongs to him who parises himself. And there I must  leave you
subject for the pressing. I  can prove that against you, weight  a momentum,
mein  goot enemy! or Cospol's not our star.  I bet you this dozen odd.  This
foluminous  dozen  odd.  Quas primas  --  but  'tis  bitter  to  compote  my
knowledge's fructos of. Tomes.
     Elevating, to  give peint  to  his blick, his jewelled pederect to  the
allmysty cielung, he luckystruck blueild out of a few shouldbe  santillants,
a cloister of starabouts  over Maples,  a lucciolys in  Teresa street  and a
stopsign  before  Sophy Barratt's, he gaddered togodder the  odds docence of
his vellumes, gresk, letton and russicruxian, onto the lapse of his prolegs,
into umfullth onescuppered, and sat about  his widerproof  He proved it well
whoonearth  dry  and  drysick  times,  and  vremiament,  tu cesses,  to  the
extinction of  Niklaus  altogether (Niklaus  Alopysius having been the  once
Gripes's  popwilled nimbum) by  Neuclidius  and Inexagoras  and  Mumfsen and
Thumpsem, by Orasmus and by Amenius, by Anacletus the Jew and by Malachy the
Augurer  and by the Cappon's  collection  and  after  that,  with  Cheekee's
gelatine and Alldaybrandy's formolon, he reproved it  ehrltogether when  not
in that  order sundering in  some different order, alter three thirty and  a
hundred  times by the binomial dioram  and the  penic walls and the ind, the
Inklespill legends  and  the rure, the  rule of the hoop and the blessons of
expedience  and  the  jus,  the  jugicants of  Pontius  Pilax  and  all  the
mummyscrips in Sick Bokes' Juncroom and  the Chapters for the Cunning of the
Chapters of the Conning Fox by Tail.
     While  that  Mooksius   with  preprocession  and   with  proprecession,
duplicitly and  diplussedly,  was promulgating ipsofacts and sadcontras this
raskolly   Gripos   he   had   allbust   seceded   in   monophysicking   his
illsobordunates.  But   asawfulas   he  had   caught   his  base  semenoyous
sarchnaktiers  to  combuccinate  upon the silipses of his aspillouts and the
acheporeoozers  of  his  haggyown   pneumax  to   synerethetise   with   the
breadchestviousness of his sweeatovular ducose sofarfully the loggerthuds of
his  sakellaries were fond  at variance with the synodals of his somepooliom
and his babskissed nepogreasymost got the hoof from his philioquus.
     -- Efter thousand yaws, O Gripes con my sheepskins, yow will be belined
to the world, enscayed Mookse the pius.
     --  Ofter  thousand yores, amsered Gripes  the  gregary, be the goat of
MacHammud's, yours may be still, O Mookse, more botheared.
     -- Us shall be chosen as the first of the last by the electress of Vale
Hollow, obselved the Mookse nobily, for par the unicum of Elelijiacks, Us am
in Our stabulary and that is what Ruby and Roby fall for, blissim.
     The Pills, the Nasal Wash (Yardly's),  the Army  Man Cut, as british as
bondstrict  and  as  straightcut  as when that brokenarched  traveller  from
Nuzuland . . .
     -- Wee,  cumfused the Gripes limply,  shall not even be the last of the
first,  wee hope,  when  oust are visitated  by  the Veiled  Horror. And, he
added: Mee are relying entirely,  see the fortethurd  of  Elissabed, on  the
weightiness of mear's breath. Puffut!
     Unsightbared embouscher, relentless foe to social  and business succes!
(Hourihaleine) It might have been a happy evening but . . .
     And  they  viterberated each other, canis et  coluber  with the wildest
ever wielded since Tarriestinus lashed Pissasphaltium.
     -- Unuchorn!
     -- Ungulant!
     -- Uvuloid !
     -- Uskybeak!
     And bullfolly answered volleyball.
     Nuvoletta  in  her lightdress,  spunn of  sisteen shimmers, was looking
down on them, leaning over the bannistars and listening  all  she childishly
could.  How  she was brightened when Shouldrups in  his glaubering hochskied
his  welkinstuck  and how she was overclused when Kneesknobs  on his zwivvel
was  makeacting  such a paulse  of  himshelp! She was alone. All  her nubied
companions were asleeping with the squirrels. Their mivver, Mrs Moonan,  was
off in the Fuerst quarter scrubbing the backsteps of Number 28. Fuvver, that
Skand,  he  was up  in  Norwood's  sokaparlour, eating  oceans  of  Voking's
Blemish. Nuvoletta listened as she  reflected  herself, though the  heavenly
one with his constellatria  and his emanations  stood between, and she tried
all  she tried to make the  Mookse  look  up  at  her (but  he was fore  too
adiaptotously  farseeing) and  to make the Gripes hear how coy  she could be
(though he was  much  too  schystimatically auricular about his  ens to heed
her) but  it was all  mild's vapour  moist.  Not even her feignt reflection,
Nuvoluccia,  could  they  toke  their  gnoses  off  for  their  minds   with
intrepifide fate and bungless  curiasity,  were conclaved with Heliogobbleus
and Commodus and Enobarbarus and  whatever the coordinal dickens they did as
their  damprauch of  papyrs  and  buchstubs  said.  As  if  that  was  their
spiration! As if  theirs could duiparate her queendim!  As if she  would  be
third perty  to  search  on search  proceedings! She tried  all  the winsome
wonsome  ways   her   four   winds   had   taught   her.  She   tossed   her
sfumastelliacinous hair like le princesse  de  la  Petite  Bretagne and  she
rounded  her mignons  arms like  Mrs  Cornwallis-West  and  she  smiled over
herself like  the beauty of the image of  the pose of  the  daughter  of the
queen of the Emperour of Irelande and she sighed  after herself as  were she
born to bride with Tristis Tristior Tristissimus.  But, sweet madonine,  she
might  fair  as  well  have  carried  her daisy's worth to  Florida. For the
Mookse, a dogmad Accanite,  were not  amoosed and  the Gripes, a dubliboused
Catalick, wis pinefully obliviscent.
     I see, she sighed. There are menner.
     The siss of the  whisp of  the sigh of the  softzing at the stir of the
ver grose  O arundo  of  a  long  one in  midias reeds: and  shades began to
glidder along the banks, greepsing, greepsing, duusk unto duusk,  and it was
as  glooming  as gloaming  could be in  the waste  of  all  peacable worlds.
Metamnisia was allsoonome  coloroform brune;  citherior  spiane an eaulande,
innemorous  and unnumerose.  The Mookse had a sound  eyes right but he could
not all hear. The Gripes had light  ears left yet he  could  but ill see. He
ceased. And he ceased, tung and trit, and it was neversoever so dusk of both
of  them. But  still  Moo  thought  on  the  deeps of  the undths  he  would
profoundth  come the morrokse and still  Gri feeled of  the scripes he would
escipe if by grice he had luck enoupes.
     Oh, how it was  duusk! From  Vallee Maraia  to  Grasyaplaina, dormimust
echo! Ah dew! Ah dew! It was so duusk that the tears of night began to fall,
first by ones and twos, then by threes and fours, at last by fives and sixes
of sevens,  for the tired ones were wecking, as we weep now with them. O! O!
O! Par la pluie!
     Then there came  down  to the  thither bank a woman of no appearance (I
believe  she was a Black with chills at her feet)  and she  gathered  up his
hoariness the Mookse motamourfully where he was spread and carried him  away
to  her invisible dwelling, thats hights,  Aquila Rapax, for he was the holy
sacred solem and poshup spit of her boshop's apron. So you see the Mookse he
had reason as I knew and you knew and he knew all along. And there came down
to  the hither  bank a woman to all important (though they say  that she was
comely, spite the cold in her heed) and, for he was as like it as blow it to
a hawker's  hank,  she plucked  down the  Gripes, torn panicky autotone,  in
angeu from his limb and  cariad away its  beotitubes with  her to her unseen
shieling, it is, De Rore Coeli.  And so the poor Gripes  got wrong; for that
is always how a Gripes is,  always was and always  will.be. And it was never
so thoughtful of either of them. And there were left now an only elmtree and
but a stone. Polled with pietrous, Sierre but saule. O!  Yes! And Nuvoletta,
a lass.
     Then Nuvoletta reflected for the last time in her  little long life and
she made up all her myriads of drifting minds  in one. She cancelled all her
engauzements. She climbed over the bannistars; she gave a childy cloudy cry:
Nu'e!  Nu'e! A lightdress  fluttered. She was gone. And into  the river that
had been a stream (for a  thousand of tears had gone eon her and come on her
and  she  was  stout  and  struck  on  dancing  and  her  muddied  name  was
Missisliffi) there fell  a tear, a singult tear, the  loveliest of all tears
(I mean for  those crylove fables  fans  who are  'keen' on the prettypretty
commonface sort of thing you meet by hopeharrods) for it was a leaptear. But
the river tripped on her  by and by, lapping as  though her heart was brook:
Why, why, why! Weh, O weh I'se so silly to be flowing but I no canna stay!
     No applause, please! Bast! The romescot nattleshaker will go round your
circulation in diu dursus.
     Allaboy, Major, I'll take your reactions in another place after themes.
Nolan Browne, you may now leave the classroom. Joe Peters, Fox.
     As I have now successfully explained to you my  own naturalborn rations
which  are  even in  excise of my vaultybrain insure me that  I am a mouth's
more deserving  case  by  genius. I  feel  in symbathos for  my ever devoted
friend  and  halfaloafonwashed,  Gnaccus  Gnoccovitch. Darling gem!  Darling
smallfox! Horoseshoew! I could love that  man like my own ambo for  being so
baileycliaver  though   he's  a  nawful  curillass  and  I   must  slav   to
methodiousness. I want him to go and live like  a theabild  in charge of the
night brigade  on Tristan da Cunha, isle of  manoverboard,  where he'll make
Number  106  and be  near Inaccessible. (The meeting of  mahoganies, be  the
waves, rementious me that this exposed sight though it pines for an umbrella
of  its  own  and needs a shelter belt of the true service sort  to keep its
boles clean, -- the weeping beeches, Picea and Tillia, are  in a wild  state
about  it --  ought  to  be classified, as Cricketbutt Willowm  and  his two
nurserymen advisers  suggested,  under genus  Inexhaustible when  we refloat
upon  all  the  butternat,  sweet gum and  manna ash  redcedera which  is so
purvulent there  as if there was howthorns in  Curraghchasa  which  ought to
look as  plane as  a lodgepole to  anybody until we are introduced  to  that
pinetacotta of Verney  Rubeus where the deodarty is pinctured  for  us in  a
pure stand, which we  do not  doubt ha has  a habitat of doing,  but without
those  selfsownseedlings  which are a  species  of  proof  that  the largest
individual can occur at or in an olivetion such  as East Conna Hillock where
it  mixes  with  foolth  accacians  and common sallies  and  is  tender) Vux
Populus, as we say in hickoryhockery and I wish we had  some more glasses of
arbor  vitae. Why  roat  by  the  roadside or  awn over  alum pot?  Alderman
Whitebeaver is dakyo. He ought  to go away for  a change of ideas  and  he'd
have  a  world  of things to  look  back on. Do,sweet Daniel! If I weren't a
jones in  myself I'd  elect  myself to be  his  dolphin in  the  wildsbillow
because he is  such  a barefooted rubber with my supersocks  pulled over his
face  which  I publicked in  my  bestback  garden  for  the laetification of
siderodromites and  to the  irony of  the stars.  You will  say  it is  most
unenglish and I shall hope to hear that you  will not be wrong about it. But
I further, feeling a bit husky in my truths.
     Will you  please come over and let  us mooremoore  murgessly  to each's
other down below our vices. I am underheerd by old  billfaust. Wilsh is full
of curks. The coolskittle  is philip deblinite. Mr Wist is thereover beyeind
the wantnot. Wilsh  and wist are as thick  of thins  udder  as  faust on the
deblinite.  Sgunoshooto estas preter la  tapizo malgranda. Lilegas  al si en
sia chambro. Kelkefoje funcktas, kelkefoje srumpas Shultroj. Houdian Kiel vi
fartas, mia nigra sinjoro? And from the poignt  of fun where I am crying  to
arrive you at they are  on allfore  as foibleminded as you can feel they are
fablebodied.
     My heeders will recoil with  a great leisure how at the outbreak before
trespassing on the space question where even  michelangelines have fooled to
dread  I  proved to mindself  as  to your  sotisfiction how  his abject  all
through (the quickquid of Professor Ciondolone's too frequently hypothecated
Bettlermensch) is  nothing so much more than a mere cashdime however genteel
he may want ours, if  we  please (I am speaking to us in the second person),
for to this graded intellecktuals dime is cash and the cash system (you must
not be allowed to forget that this is all contained, I  mean the system,  in
the dogmarks of origen on spurios) means that I cannot now have or nothave a
piece of cheeps in your pocket at the same time and with the same manners as
you can now  nothalf or half the cheek apiece I've in mind unless Burrus and
Caseous  have  not or  not have  seemaultaneously  sysentangled  themselves,
selldear to soldthere, once in the dairy days of buy and buy.
     Burrus, let us  like to  imagine, is a genuine prime,  the real choice,
full of natural greace, the mildest of milkstoffs yet unbeaten as a risicide
and, of course,  obsoletely  unadulterous whereat  Caseous is obversely  the
revise of him and in  fact  not  an ideal  choose by any  meals,  though the
betterman of  the  two is meltingly addicted to the more casual side of  the
arrivaliste  case  and,  let me say it at  once, as  zealous over him  as is
passably  he. The seemsame home and histry seeks and hidepence which we used
to be reading for our prepurgatory, hot, Schott? till Duddy shut the shopper
op and Mutti, poor  Mutti! brought us our poor  suppy, (ah who!  eh how!) in
Acetius and Oleosus and Sellius Volatilis and Petrus Papricus! Our Old Party
quite united  round  the Slatbowel at Commons: Pfarrer Salamoss himself  and
that  sprog  of  a Pedersill  and his Sprig  of  Thyme and a  dozen  of  the
Murphybuds and a  score and more of the hot young Capels and Lettucia in her
greensleeves and  you too and me three, twinsome bibs but hansome ates, like
shakespill and  eggs! But there's  many a  split pretext bowl and  jowl; and
(snob screwing that  cork, Schott!)  to understand this as  well as you can,
feeling  how backward  you  are in your  down-to-the-ground benches, I  have
completed the  following arrangement for the coarse use  of stools and  if I
don't make away with you I'm beyond Caesar outnullused
     The older  sisars  (Tyrants,  regicide  is  too good  for you!)  become
unbeurrable from age, (the compositor of the farce of  dustiny however makes
a thunpledrum mistake by letting off this pienofarte effect as his furst act
as  that  is  where the  juke comes in)  having  been sort-of-nineknived and
chewly removed (this soldier --  author -- batman for  all his commontoryism
is  just  another  of  those  souftsiezed  bubbles  who  never quite got the
sandhurst out of his  eyes so that  the champaign he draws for us is as flop
as a plankrieg) the  twinfreer types are billed  to make their reupprearance
as the knew kneck  and knife knickknots on the deserted champ de bouteilles.
(A  most  cursery  reading into the  Persic-Uraliens hostery  shows  us  how
Fonnumagula picked up  that propper numen  out of a  colluction of  prifixes
though to the permienting cannasure the Coucousien oafsprung of this  sun of
a  kuk is as sattin as there's a tub in Tobolosk) Ostiak della Vogul Marina!
But  that  I dannoy  the fact of wanton to weste  point I could paint you to
that  butter  (cheese it!) if  you had some  wash.  Mordvealive! Oh  me none
onsens!  Why the  case  is  as inessive and impossive as  kezom hands! Their
interlocative  is  conprovocative  just  as  every  hazzy  hates to having a
hazbane in her noze. Caseous may bethink himself a thought of a caviller but
Burrus  has  the reachly roundered  head that  goes best  with  thofthinking
defensive fideism. He  has the lac  of wisdom under every dent in his lofter
while the other  follow's onni  vesy milky  indeedmymy.  Laughing  over  the
linnuts and weeping off  the  uniun. He hisn't the hey og he lisn't the lug,
poohoo. And each night sim  misses mand he  winks he had the semagen. It was
aptly and corrigidly stated (and, it is  royally needless for one  ex  ungue
Leonem to  say by whom) that his seeingscraft was  that clarety  as were the
wholeborough of Poutresbourg to be averlaunched over him pitchbatch he could
still make out with  his augstritch the green  moat in Ireland's Eye. Let me
sell you the fulltroth of Burrus when he  wore a younker. Here  it  is,  and
chorming too, in six by sevens! A cleanly line, by the gods! A king off duty
and  a jaw  for ever!  And what a  cheery ripe outlook, good help  me Deus v
Deus!  If I were  to speak my  ohole mouthful to arinam about it you  should
call me the ormuzd aliment in your  midst  of faime. Eat ye up, heat  ye up!
sings the somun in the salm. Butyrum et mel comedet ut sciat reprobare malum
et eligere bonum.  This, of course, also explains why we were taught to play
in the childhood: Der Haensli ist ern Butterbrot, mein Butterbrot! Und Koebi
iss dein Schtinkenkot! Ja! Ja! Ja!
     This in fact, just  to show you, is Caseous, the  brutherscutch or puir
tyron:  a  hole  or two, the highstinks aforefelt and anygo  prigging wurms.
Cheesugh! you complain. And Hi Hi High must say you are not Hoa  Hoa  Hoally
in the wrong!
     Thus we  cannot  escape our  likes  and mislikes, exiles or ambusheers,
beggar and  neighbour and  -- this is where the dimeshow advertisers advance
the temporal relief plea --  let us be tolerant  of antipathies. Nex  quovis
burro num fit mercaseus? I  am not hereby giving my final endorsement to the
learned ignorants  of the Cusanus philosophism in which old Nicholas pegs it
down that the smarter the spin of the top the sounder the span of the buttom
(what the worthy old auberginiste ought to have meant was: the more stolidly
immobile in space appears to me the bottom which is presented to use in time
by the top primomobilisk &c.). And I shall be misunderstord if understood to
give  an unconditional sinequam to  the heroicised furibouts  of the Nolanus
theory, or, at any rate, of that substrate of apart from hissheory where the
Theophil swoors that on principial he was the pointing  start of his  odiose
by  comparison and that whiles eggs will fall cheapened all over  the walled
the Bure will be dear on the Brie.
     Now,  while  I  am  not out  now to  be  taken  up  as  unintentionally
recommending  the  Silkebjorg tyrondynamon machine  for the more  economical
helixtrolysis of these amboadipates  until I  can find space to look into it
myself  a  little more  closely first I shall go on  with my decisions after
having shown  to you in good time  how both products of  our social  stomach
(the  excellent  Dr  Burroman,  I noticed by the way from  his  emended food
theory, has been carefully digesting  the very wholesome criticism I  helped
him  to  in  my  princeps  edition which is  all so  munch to  the  cud) are
mutuearly  polarised  the  incompatabilily  of  any  delusional   acting  as
ambivalent to the  fixation of his  pivotism. Positing, as above,  too males
pooles, the one the pictor of the other and the omber the Skotia of the one,
and looking wantingly around our undistributed  middle between males we feel
we  must  waistfully  woent  a  female  to  focus  and  on  this stage there
pleasantly  appears the  cowrymaid  M.  whom we shall  often meet below  who
introduces herself upon us at  some  precise hour which we shall again agree
to call  absolute zero or the babbling pumpt of  platinism. And so like that
former son of a kish who went up and out to found his farmer's ashes we come
down home gently on our own turnedabout asses to meet Margareen.
     We now  romp  through  a  period of pure lyricism  of  shamebred  music
(technologically, let me say, the appetising entry of this subject on a fool
chest of vialds is plumply pudding the carp before doevre hors) evidenced by
such  words  in distress as I cream for  thee, Sweet Margareen, and the more
hopeful O Margareena! O Margareena! Still in the  bowl  is  left  a lump  of
gold!  (Correspondents, by  the  way, will  keep on  asking  me  what is the
correct  garnish  to  serve  drisheens   with.  Tansy  Sauce.  Enough).  The
pawnbreaking  pathos  of the first of  these shoddy pieces reveals  it  as a
Caseous effort. Burrus's  bit is  often  used for a toast.  Criniculture can
tell us very precisely indeed how and  why this particular  streak of yellow
silver first appeared on (not in) the bowel, that is to see, the human head,
bald,  black, bronze, brown, brindled, betteraved or  blanchemanged where it
might be usefully compared with an  earwig on a  fullbottom.  I  am offering
this to Signorina Cuticura and I intend to take it up and bring it under the
nosetice of Herr Harlene by way  of diverting his attentions. Of  course the
unskilled  singer continues to  pervert  our wiser ears by subordinating the
space-element, that is to sing, the aria, to the time-factor, which ought to
be killed, ill tempor. I should  advise any  unborn singer  who may still be
among my heeders  to forget her  temporal diaphragm at home (the best  thing
that could  happen to  it!)  and  attack the roulade  with a swift colpo  di
glottide to the lug (though Maace I  will insist was reclined from overdoing
this, his recovery often being slow) and then, O ! on the third dead beat, O
! to cluse  her eyes and aiopen her oath and  see what spice I may send her.
How? Cease thee, cantatrickee! I fain would be solo. Arouse thee, my valour!
And save for e'er my true Bdur!
     I  shall  have a  word to  say  in a  few yards  about the acoustic and
orchidectural management of the tonehall but, as  ours  is a vivarious where
one plant's breaf  is  a lunger planner's byscent and you  may  not care for
argon, it will be very convenient for me for the emolument to  pursue Burrus
and  Caseous for a rung or two up  their  isocelating biangle. Every admirer
has seen my goulache of Marge (she  is so  like the sister, you don't  know,
and  they both  dress  A  L I  K E !) which I  titled The  Very Picture of a
Needlesswoman which in  the  presence ornates our national  cruetstand. This
genre of  portraiture of changes of mind in order to  be truly torse  should
evoke the bush soul of females  so I am leaving it to the experienced victim
to complete the general suggestion by the mental addition of a wallopy bound
or, should the zulugical zealot  prefer  it, a congorool teal. The  hatboxes
which  composed  Rhomba,  lady  Trabezond  (Marge  in  her  excelsis),  also
comprised the climactogram up which B and C may fondly be imagined ascending
and are suggestive of gentlemen's spring modes, these modes carrying us back
to the  superimposed claylayers of  eocene and pleastoseen formation and the
gradual   morphological   changes  in  our  body  politic  which   Professor
Ebahi-Ahuri  of  Philadespoinis (Ill)  -- whose bluebutterbust  I  have just
given  his  coupe de  grass  to -- neatly  names a bo?te  ... surprises. The
boxes, if I may break the subject gently, are worth about fourpence  pourbox
but I am inventing a more patent process, foolproof and pryperfect (I should
like to ask that Shedlock Homes person  who is out for removing the roofs of
our criminal classics by  what deductio  ad  domunum  he hopes  de tacto  to
detect anything  unless  he happens of himself,  movibile tectu,  to have  a
slade off) after which they can be reduced to a fragment of their true crust
by  even the  youngest  of Margees if she  will take plase to  be seated and
smile if I please.
     Now there  can be no  question  about it either that I having  done  as
much,  have quite  got the size  of that  demilitery young  female  (we will
continue  to  call her Marge) whose  types  may  be  met with in any  public
garden, wearing a very "dressy" affair, known as an "ethel" of instep length
and  with a  real fur,  reduced  to 3/9,  and  muffin cap to tone  (they are
"angelskin"  this  fall),  ostentatiously  hemming  apologetically over  the
shirtness of some  "sweet" garment, when she is not sitting on all the  free
benches avidously reading about "it" but ovidently on the look out for "him"
or  so  "thrilled" about  the best dressed  dolly pram  and beautiful  elbow
competition or at the movies swallowing sobs and blowing bixed mixcuits over
"childe"  chaplain's  "latest"  or  on  the  verge  of the gutter  with some
bobbedhair brieffrocked  babyma's toddler  (the Smythe-Smythes  now keep TWO
domestics and  aspire  to  THREE male ones,  a  shover,  a  butlegger and  a
sectary) held hostage at armslength, teaching His Infant Majesty how to make
waters worse.
     (I am closely watching Master Pules, as I  have regions to suspect from
my post that her "litde man" is a secondary  schoolteacher under  the boards
of education,  a  voted disciple  of Infantulus  who is  being utilised thus
publicly  by  the  seducente  infanta  to  conceal  her  own  more  mascular
personality by flaunting frivolish finery over men's inside clothes, for the
femininny of that totamulier will always lack the musculink of a verumvirum.
My  solotions  for the proper  parturience  of matres and the  education  of
micturious mites must stand over from the moment till I tackle  this tickler
hussy for occupying my uttentions.)
     Margareena  she's very  fond of Burrus but, alick and alack! she  velly
fond  of  chee. (The important influence exercised  on  everything  by  this
eastasian  import  has  not  been  till  now fully  flavoured though  we can
comfortably taste it in this case.  I shall  come back for a little more say
farther on.)  A cleopatrician in her own right  she at once complicates  the
position  while  Burrus  and  Caseous  are contending  for  her  misstery by
implicating herself  with an elusive Antonius, a wop who would appear to hug
a  personal  interest in refined  chees of all chades at the same time as he
wags   an   antomine    art   of   being    rude   like   the   boor.   This
Antonius-Burrus-Caseous  grouptriad  may  be  said  to  equate  the   qualis
equivalent with the older socalled  talis on talis one just as quantly as in
the hyperchemical economantarchy  the tantum ergons irruminate  the  quantum
urge so that eggs  is to whey as whay is to zeed like  your  golfchild's abe
boob caddy.  And  this is why any simple philadolphus of  a fool you like to
dress,  an  athemisthued  lowtownian, exlegged  phatrisight, may be  awfully
green to one side of him and  fruitfully blue  on the other which  will  not
screen  him  however  from appealing  to my gropesarching  eyes, through the
strongholes of my acropoll, as a boosted  blasted  bleating blatant  bloaten
blasphorus blesphorous idiot who kennot tail a bomb from a painapple when he
steals  one  and wannot psing  his psalmen with the  cong in our gregational
pompoms with the canting crew.
     No! Topsman to your Tarpeia! This thing, Mister Abby,  is nefand. (And,
taking off soutstuffs and alkalike matters, I hope we can kill time to reach
the salt because  there's some  forceglass  neutric assets  bittering in the
soldpewter for  you  to plump  your  pottage in). The thundering  legion has
stormed Olymp that it end. Twelve tabular  times till now have I edicted it.
Merus Genius to Careous Caseous!  Moriture,  te salutat!  My phemous  themis
race  is run, so let  Demoncracy  take the highmost! (Abraham Tripier. Those
old  diligences are quite  out of date. Read next  answer). I'll beat you so
lon.  (Bigtempered.  Why not take direct  action.  See  previous reply).  My
unchanging Word is sacred. The word  is my Wife, to exponse and  expound, to
vend and to velnerate, and may the curlews crown our nuptias! Till Breath us
depart!  Wamen. Beware would  you change with my years. Be as  young as your
grandmother!  The ring man in  the rong  shop but the rite words by the rote
order! Ubi lingua nuncupassit, ibi fas! Adversus hostem semper sac! She that
will  not  feel my  fulmoon  let  her peel  to  thee as the hoyden  and  the
impudent! That mon  that  hoth  no  moses in his sole  nor  is  not  awed by
conquists of word's law, who never with humself was fed and leaves  his soil
to lave his  head, when his hope's in his highlows from whisking his woe, if
he came to  my preach, a  proud  pursebroken ranger, when  the  heavens were
welling the spite of their spout, to beg for a bite in our  bark Noisdanger,
would meself  and Mac Jeffet, four-in-hand, foot him out?  -- ay! -- were he
my own breastbrother, my doubled withd love and my  singlebiassed hate, were
we bread by the  same fire and signed with the same salt, had we tapped from
the same master and robbed the same till, were we tucked in the one bed  and
bit by  the one flea, homogallant  and hemycapnoise, bum and dingo, jack  by
churl, though it broke my heart to pray it, still I'd fear I'd hate to say!
     12. Sacer esto?
     Answer: Semus sumus!

        Chapter 7

     Shem is as short for Shemus as Jem is joky for  Jacob. A few toughnecks
are  still getatable  who  pretend that  aboriginally he was of  respectable
stemming (he was an outlex between the lines of Ragonar Blaubarb ant Horrild
Hairwire and an inlaw to  Capt. the Hon. and Rev. Mr Bbyrdwood de Trop Blogg
was among his most distant connections)  but every honest to goodness man in
the land of the space of today knows that his back life will not stand being
written about in black and white. Putting  truth and untruth together a shot
may be made at what this hybrid actually was like to look at.
     Shem's bodily getup, it seems, included an adze of a skull, an eight of
a larkseye,  the whoel of a nose,  one numb arm up a sleeve,  fortytwo hairs
off  his  uncrown,  eighteen  to  his mock lip,  a  trio of barbels from his
megageg chin (sowman's son),  the wrong shoulder higher than the right,  all
ears, an artificial  tongue with  a natural curl, not  a foot to stand on, a
handful of thumbs, a blind stomach, a deaf heart, a loose liver, two  fifths
of two  buttocks, one gleetsteen avoirdupoider  for  him, a manroot  of  all
evil,  a  salmonkelt's  thinskin, eelsblood  in  his-cold  toes,  a  bladder
tristended, so much so that young Master Shemmy on his very first debouch at
the very  dawn of protohistory seeing  himself such  and such, when  playing
with thistlewords in their garden nursery,  Griefotrofio, at Phig Streat III
Shuvlin, Old Hoeland, (would we  go back there now for sounds, pillings  and
sense? would we now for annas and annas? would we for fullscore eight  and a
liretta? for twelve blocks one bob? for four testers one groat?  not  for  a
dinar! not for jo!) dictited to of all his little brothron  and sweestureens
the first riddle of the universe: asking,  when is a man not a man?: telling
them take their time, yungfries,  and wait till the tide stops (for from the
first his day was a fortnight) and offering the prize of a bittersweet crab,
a little present from  the  past, for their copper  age was yet unminted, to
the  winner.  One said  when the  heavens are quakers, a  second  said  when
Bohemeand lips, a third said when he, no, when hold hard a jiffy, when he is
a gnawstick and  detarmined to, the  next one said when the  angel  of death
kicks the  bucket of life, still another  said when the wine's at  witsends,
and still  another  when lovely  wooman  stoops to  conk  him,  one  of  the
littliest said  me,  me, Sem, when pappa  papared  the harbour, one  of  the
wittiest said, when he yeat ye abblokooken and  he zmear hezelf  zo zhooken,
still  one  said  when you are  old I'm grey fall full wi  sleep, and  still
another  when wee deader  walkner, and  another  when he is  just only after
having being semisized, another when yea, he hath  no mananas, and one  when
dose pigs they begin now  that they will flies up intil  the looft. All were
wrong,  so  Shem himself, the doctator, took  the cake, the correct solution
being -- all give it up? -- ; when he is a -- yours till the rending of  the
rocks, -- Sham.
     Shem was a sham and a low sham and his  lowness  creeped out first  via
foodstuffs. So low was he that he  preferred Gibsen's teatime salmon tinned,
as inexpensive  as pleasing,  to  the plumpest roeheavy lax or the friskiest
parr or  smolt  troutlet  that ever was  gaffed between  Leixlip  and Island
Bridge and many was the time he repeated in his botulism that no junglegrown
pineapple  ever smacked like  the whoppers you shook  out  of Ananias' cans,
Findlater and  Gladstone's,  Corner House,  Englend.  None of your inchthick
blueblooded Balaclava  fried-at-belief-stakes  or  juicejelly  legs  of  the
Grex's molten mutton or greasilygristly grunters' goupons or slice upon slab
of  luscious goosebosom with  lump after  load of  plumpudding  stuffing all
aswim in a swamp of bogoakgravy for that greekenhearted yude! Rosbif  of Old
Zealand! he  could not attouch it. See  what  happens  when your somatophage
merman  takes  his  fancy to  our virgitarian swan?  He  even ran  away with
hunself and became a farsoonerite, saying he would far sooner muddle through
the  hash of lentils in  Europe than meddle with Irrland's split little pea.
Once when among those  rebels in a state of hopelessly helpless intoxication
the piscivore strove to lift a czitround peel to either nostril, hiccupping,
apparently impromptued by the  hibat he had with his glottal stop,  that  he
kukkakould  flowrish for ever by the  smell,  as  the czitr, as the kcedron,
like a scedar,  of the founts, on mountains,  with limon  on, of Lebanon. O!
the  lowness of him was  beneath all  up  to  that  sunk to!  No likedbylike
firewater or firstserved  firstshot or  gulletburn gin or honest brewbarrett
beer  either.   O  dear  no!  Instead  the  tragic  jester   sobbed  himself
wheywhingingly  sick  of  life  on  some  sort of  a  rhubarbarous maundarin
yellagreen  funkleblue   windigut  diodying  applejack  squeezed  from  sour
grapefruice and,  to  hear  him  twixt his sedimental  cupslips when  he had
gulfed down mmmmuch too mmmmany gourds of it  retching off to almost as  low
withswillers, who always knew  notwithstanding when they had had  enough and
were rightly indignant at  the wretch's hospitality when they found to their
horror  they could not carry  another drop, it came straight from the  noble
white  fat, jo,  openwide sat, jo, jo, her why hide  that,  jo  jo  jo,  the
winevat, of  the most  serene magyansty az archdiochesse, if  she is a duck,
she's a douches, and when  she  has a feherbour snot her fault,  now  is it?
artstouchups,  funny  you're  grinning at, fancy  you're in  her  yet, Fanny
Urinia.
     Aint that swell, hey? Peamengro! Talk about lowness! Any dog's quantity
of it visibly oozed out  thickly from this dirty little  blacking beetle for
the  very  fourth snap the  Tulloch-Turnbull  girl with her  coldblood kodak
shotted  the as yet unremuneranded  national apostate,  who was cowardly gun
and camera shy,  taking what he fondly thought was a short cut to Caer Fere,
Soak Amerigas, vias the shipsteam Pridewin,  after  having  buried a hatchet
not so  long before,  by the wrong goods exeunt, nummer  desh  to tren, into
Patatapapaveri's, fruiterers and musical  florists, with  his  Ciaho, chavi!
Sat shin, shillipen? she knew the vice out  of bridewell was a  bad fast man
by his walk on the spot.
     [Johns is a different butcher's.  Next place you are up town pay  him a
visit. Or  better still, come tobuy. You will enjoy cattlemen's spring meat.
Johns  is now  quite divorced from  baking.  Fattens, kills,  flays,  hangs,
draws, quarters and pieces. Feel his lambs  ! Ex ! Feel how sheap! Exex! His
liver too is great value, a spatiality! Exexexl COMMUNICATED.]
     Around that time, moravar, one generally, for luvvomony hoped or at any
rate suspected among morticians that he would  early tum out badly,  develop
hereditary  pulmonary T.B.,  and  do for himself one  dandy time,  nay, of a
pelting night blanketed creditors, hearing a coarse song and splash off Eden
Quay  sighed and rolled over, sure  all  was up, but, though he fell heavily
and locally into  debit, not even then could such an  antinomian be true  to
type. He would  not put  fire to his cerebrum; he would not throw himself in
Liffey;  he  would  not  explaud  himself with pneumantics;  he  refused  to
saffrocake himself with a  sod. With the foreign devil's leave the fraid bom
fraud diddled even death. Anzi,  cabled  (but shaking the worth  out of  his
maulth: Guardacosta leporello? Szasas Kraicz!) from his Nearapoblican asylum
to  his jonathan for a brother: Here tokay, gone tomory,  we're spluched, do
something, Fireless. And had answer: Inconvenient, David.
     You see,  chaps, it will trickle  out, freaksily of course, but the tom
and the shorty of it is: he  was in his bardic  memory low. All the time  he
kept  on  treasuring with condign  satisfaction  each  and  every  crumb  of
trektalk,  covetous of  his  neighbour's word, and if  ever,  during a Munda
conversazione  commoted in  the  nation's interest,  delicate  tippits  were
thrown out  to  him touching  his evil courses by  some  wellwishers, vainly
pleading by scriptural arguments with the opprobrious papist about trying to
brace  up for the kidos of the thing, Scally wag, and be a men instead of  a
dem  scrounger, dish it all,  such as: Pray, what is the  meaning, sousy, of
that continental  expression,  if  you ever  came acrux it, we think it is a
word transpiciously  like canaille?: or:  Did you anywhere, kennel,  on your
gullible's  travels  or  during  your rural troubadouring, happen to stumble
upon a  certain gay young nobleman whimpering to the  name of Low Swine  who
always addresses women out of the one comer of his mouth, lives on loans and
is furtivefree yours of age? without one sigh of haste like the supreme prig
he was, and not a bit sorry, he would  pull a vacant landlubber's face, root
with earwaker's pensile in the outer of his lauscher and then, lisping,  the
prattlepate parnella, to kill  time, and swatting his deadbest to think what
under  the  canopies  of  Jansens  Chrest  would  any  decent  son   of   an
Albiogenselman who had bin to an university think, let a lent hit a hint and
begin to tell all the  intelligentsia admitted  to that tamileasy samtalaisy
conclamazzione (since, still and before physicians, lawyers merchant, belfry
pollititians,  agricolous  manufraudurers,  sacrestanes  of  the  Pure River
Society, philanthropicks lodging on as  many boards round the panesthetic at
the same time as possible) the whole lifelong swrine story of his entire low
cornaille  existence, abusing his deceased ancestors wherever the  sods were
and  one moment tarabooming great blunderguns (poh!) about his farfamed fine
Poppamore, Mr Humhum, whom history, climate and entertainment made the first
of his sept  and always up to  debt,  though  Eavens ears  ow many fines  he
faces, and another moment visanvrerssas,cruaching three jeers (pah!) for his
rotten  little ghost of a Peppybeg, Mr Himmyshimmy, a  blighty,  a  reeky, a
lighty, a scrapy,  a babbly, a ninny, dirty seventh among thieves and always
bottom  sawyer,  till  nowan  knowed  how  howmely  howme  could be,  giving
unsolicited testimony on  behalf  of the absent, as  glib as  eaveswater  to
those present  (who  meanwhile,  with  increasing  lack of  interest  in his
semantics,  allowed various  subconscious smickers to drivel  slowly  across
their fichers), unconsciously explaining, for inkstands, with a meticulosity
bordering on the insane, the various  meanings of all the different  foreign
parts of speech  he misused and  cuttlefishing every lie  unshrinkable about
all the other people  in the story, leaving out, of course, foreconsciously,
the  simple worf  and plague and  poison  they  had cornered him about until
there was not a snoozer among them but was utterly undeceived in the heel of
the reel by the recital of the rigmarole.
     He  went  without  saying  that  the  cull   disliked  anything  anyway
approaching a plain straightforward standup  or knockdown row and, as  often
as he  was called  in to umpire any octagonal argument  among slangwhangers,
the accomplished  washout always used to rub shoulders with the last speaker
and clasp shakers (the handtouch which is speech without words) and agree to
every word as  soon as  half  uttered, command  me!, your servant,  good,  I
revere you, how, my seer? be drinking that! quite truth, gratias, I'm yoush,
see  wha'm hearing?, also  goods, please  it, me  sure?,  be filling  this!,
quiso, you said it, apasafello, muchas grassyass, is there firing-on-me?, is
their  girlic-on-you?,  to  your good  self, your sulphur,  and then at once
focuss his whole unbalanced  attention upon the next octagonist  who managed
to  catch a  listener's  eye, asking  and imploring him  out  of his piteous
onewinker, (hemoptysia  diadumenos) whether  there was anything in the world
he could do  to please him and to overflow  his tumbletantaliser for him yet
once more.
     One  hailcannon  night (for  his  departure  was attended  by  a  heavy
downpour) as very recently  as  some  thousand rains  ago he  was  therefore
treated  with  what closely resembled parsonal  violence, being  soggert all
unsuspectingly through the deserted  village of Tumblin-on-the-Leafy from Mr
Vanhomrigh's house at 81 bis Mabbot's Mall as far as Green  Patch beyond the
brickfields of Salmon  Pool by rival teams of slowspiers counter quicklimers
who finally, as rahilly they had been deteened out rawther laetich, thought,
busnis  hits  busnis,  they  had  better be  streaking for  home after their
Auborne-to-Auborne,with  thanks  for  the  pleasant  evening,  one  and  all
disgustedly, instead of ruggering him  back, and  awake, reconciled  (though
they  were as jealous as could be  cullions  about all the truffles they had
brought on him) to a friendship, fast and furious, which merely arose out of
the noxious pervert's  perfect lowness. Again there was a  hope that people,
looking on him with the contemp of the contempibles, after first  gaving him
a roll in  the dirt, might pity and forgive him,  if properly  deloused, but
the pleb was born a Quicklow and sank alowing till he stank out of sight.
     All  Saints beat Belial! Mickil  Goals to Nichil! Notpossible! Already?
In Nowhere has yet the Whole World taken part of himself for his
     Wife; By Nowhere have Poorparents been sentenced to Worms, Blood and
     Thunder  for Life Not yet has the Emp from Corpsica forced the Arth out
of Engleterre; Not yet have  the  Sachsen and Judder on  the Mound of a Word
made
     Warre; Not yet Witchywithcy of Wench struck Fire of his Heath from on
     Hoath;  Not  yet  his  Arcobaleine  forespoken  Peacepeace  upon  Oath;
Cleftfoot from Hempal must tumpel, Blamefool Gardener's bound to
     fall; Broken Eggs will poursuive bitten Apples for where theirs is Will
     there's his  Wall; But the Mountstill  frowns  on the Millstream  while
their Madsons
     leap his Bier And her  Rillstrill liffs to  His  Murkesty all her  daft
Daughters laff
     in her Ear. Till the four Shores of deff Tory Island let the douze dumm
Eire
     whiggs raille! Hirp!  Hirp! for their Missed Understandings! chirps the
Ballat of
     Perce-Oreille.
     O fortunous casualitas! Lefty takes the cherubcake while  Rights cloves
his  hoof  Darkies  never  done tug that  coon  out to  play  non-excretory,
anti-sexuous, misoxenetic, gaasy  pure, flesh  and blood games, written  and
composed and sung  and danced by Niscemus  Nemon, same as piccaninnies  play
all  day,  those old  (none of your honeys and rubbers !) games for fun  and
element we used to play with Dina and  old Joe kicking her behind and before
and  the yellow  girl kicking  him behind old Joe, games  like Thom Thom the
Thonderman,  Put  the  Wind  up the Peeler,  Hat  in the Ring, Prisson  your
Pritchards and Play Withers Team, Mikel on the Luckypig, Nickel in the Slot,
Sheila Harnett  and  her Cow,  Adam and  Ell, Humble Bumble, Moggie's on the
Wall, Twos  and  Threes, American Jump, Fox  Come  out  of  your Den, Broken
Bottles,  Writing a  Letter to Punch, Tiptop is a Sweetstore, Henressy Crump
Expolled,  Postman's  Knock,  Are  We Fairlys  Represented?, Solomon  Silent
reading,  Appletree  Bearstone,  I know a Washerwoman, Hospitals, As  I  was
Walking,  There  is  Oneyone's  House in Dreamcolohour,  Battle of Waterloo,
Colours,  Eggs  in the Bush,  Habberdasherisher, Telling your Dreams, What's
the Time, Nap, Ducking Mammy, Last  Man Standing, Heali Baboon and the Forky
Theagues, Fickleyes and Futilears, Handmarried but  once in my Life and I'll
never commit such a Sin agin, Zip Cooney Candy, Turkey in the Straw, This is
the  Way  we sow the  Seed  of a  long  and lusty Morning,  Hops  of Fun  at
Miliken's  Make,  I seen  the Toothbrush with Pat Farrel,  Here's the Fat to
graze the  Priest's Boots, When his Steam was  like  a Raimbrandt round  Mac
Garvey.
     Now it is notoriously  known how  on that surprisingly bludgeony  Unity
Sunday  when the grand  germogall allstar  bout was harrily the rage between
our weltingtoms extraordinary and our pettythicks the  marshalaisy and Irish
eyes of welcome were smiling daggers down  their backs, when the  roth, vice
and blause met the noyr blank and rogues and the grim white and cold bet the
black fighting tans, categorically unimperatived  by the maxims, a rank funk
getting  the  better  of him, the scut  in a bad fit  of pyjamas fled like a
leveret  for his  bare lives,  to Talviland,  ahone  ahaza, pursued  by  the
scented  curses of  all the  village  belles and,  without having struck one
blow, (pig stole on  him was lust he lagging it was becaused  dust he shook)
kuskykorked himself up tight  in his inkbattle house,  badly the  worse  for
boosegas, there  to  stay in afar for the  life, where, as there  was  not a
moment to be lost, after he had boxed around with his fortepiano till he was
whole  bach bamp  him  and  bump him blues, he collapsed  carefully under  a
bedtick from Schwitzer's,  his face enveloped into a dead warrior's telemac,
with a lullobaw's somnbomnet and a whotwaterwottle at  his feet to stoke his
energy of waiting, moaning feebly, in monkmarian monotheme, but  tarned long
and then a nation louder, while engaged in swallowing from a large ampullar,
that  his  pawdry's  purgatory was  more than  a  nigger  bloke could  bear,
hemiparalysed  by  the tong  warfare and  all the shemozzle,  (Daily  Maily,
fullup  Lace! Holy Maly,  Mothelup Joss!) his  cheeks and trousers  changing
colour every time a gat croaked.
     How  is  that  for  low,  laities  and  gentlenuns?  Why,  dog  of  the
Crostiguns, whole continents  rang with this  Kairokorran lowness! Sheols of
houris in chems upon divans,  (revolted stellas vespertine vesamong them) at
a bare (O!) mention of the scaly rybald exclaimed: Poisse!
     But  would anyone,  short  of a madhouse, believe  it? Neither of those
clean  little cherubum, Nero or Nobookisonester himself, ever  nursed such a
spoiled opinion of his  monstrous marvellosity as did this mental and  moral
defective (here perhaps at the  vanessance of his  lownest) who was known to
grognt rather  than  gunnard  upon one  occasion, while  drinking heavily of
spirits to that  interlocutor a latere and private privysuckatary he used to
pal around  with,  in the kavehazs,  one Davy Browne-Nowlan,  his heavenlaid
twin,  (this hambone  dogpoet pseudoed himself under  the  hangname  he gave
himself of Bethgelert)  in  the  porchway  of  a  gipsy's bar  (Shem  always
blaspheming, so holy writ, Billy, he would try, old Belly, and  pay this one
manjack  congregant of his four soups every lass of nexmouth, Bolly, so sure
as thair's a tail on  a commet, as a taste  for storik's fortytooth, that is
to  stay,  to  listen  out,  ony  twenny  minnies  moe, Bully,  his  Ballade
Imaginaire which was to be  dubbed Wine, Woman and Waterclocks, or How a Guy
Finks  and  Fawkes When He  Is Going Batty, by Maistre Sheames de  la Plume,
some most dreadful stuff in a murderous mirrorhand) that he was avoopf (parn
me!) aware of  no other  shaggspick, other  Shakhisbeard,  either  prexactly
unlike his polar andthisishis or procisely the seem as woops (parn!) as what
he fancied  or guessed the  sames  as he was  himself and that, greet scoot,
duckings and thuggery, though he was foxed fux to fux like a bunnyboy rodger
with all the teashop lionses of Lumdrum hivanhoesed up gagainst him, being a
lapsis linquo  with a  ruvidubb shortartempa,  bad  cad dad fad  sad mad nad
vanhaty bear,  the consciquenchers  of  casuality  prepestered crusswords in
postposition,  scruff,  scruffer, scrufferumurraimost andallthatsortofthing,
if  reams stood to  reason and  his lankalivline lasted he  would wipe alley
english spooker, multaphoniaksically spuking, off the face of the erse.
     After  the  thorough fright he  got that bloody, Swithun's day,  though
every doorpost in muchtried Lucalizod  was  smeared  with  generous erstborn
gore  and every free  for all cobbleway  slippery with the bloods of heroes,
crying  to Welkins for others, and noahs  and cul verts agush with tears  of
joy, our  low waster  never  had the common baalamb's  pluck to stir out and
about the compound while everyone else of the torchlit throng, slashers  and
sliced alike,  mobbu on massa,  waaded and  baaded around, yampyam  pampyam,
chanting the Gillooly chorus, from the Monster Book of  Paltryattic Puetrie,
O pura e pia bella! in junk et sampam or in secular sinkalarum, heads up, on
his  bonafide avocation  (the little  folk creeping on  all  fours to  their
natural  school treat  but childishly gleeful  when a stray whizzer sang out
intermediately)  and happy belongers to the fairer sex on their usual  quest
for  higher things, but  vying with  Lady  Smythe  to avenge MacJobber, went
stonestepping  with their bickerrstaffs  on  educated feet,  plinkity plonk,
across  the sevenspan  ponte dei  colori  set  up  over  the slop after  the
war-to-end war by Messrs a charitable government for the only once (dia dose
Finnados!) he  did take a tompip peepestrella  throug  a threedraw  eighteen
hawkspower durdicky telescope, luminous to larbourd only like  the lamps  in
Nassaustrass, out of his westernmost keyhole, spitting at  the impenetrablum
wetter,  (and it was porcoghastly that outumn) with an  eachway hope in  his
shivering  soul, as he prayed  to the cloud Incertitude, of finding  out for
himself, on  akkount  of all the kules  in Kroukaparka or  oving to all  the
kodseoggs in  Kalatavala, whether true  conciliation  was  forging ahead  or
falling back  after the  celestious intemperance and, for Duvvelsache,  why,
with his see me see and his my see a corves and his frokerfoskerfuskar layen
loves in  meeingseeing, he got the charm of  his optical  life when he found
himself (hic sunt lennones!) at pointblank range blinking down the barrel of
an irregular  revolver of the bulldog with a  purpose pattern, handled by an
unknown quarreler who, supposedly, had been told off  to shade and shoot shy
Shem should the shit show his shiny shnout out awhile to look facts in their
face before being hosed and creased (uprip and jack him !) by six or a dozen
of the gayboys.
     What, para Saom Plaom, in the names  of Deucalion and  Pyrrha, and  the
incensed privy and the  licensed pantry gods and Stator and Victor  and Kutt
and Runn and the whole mesa redonda of Lorencao  Otulass in convocacaon, was
this  disinterestingly low human  type, this  Calumnious Column of Cloaxity,
this Bengalese  Beacon of Biloxity,  this Annamite Aper of Atroxity,  really
at, it will be precise to quarify, for he seems in a badbad case?
     The answer, to do  all  the  diddies  in  one  dedal, would sound: from
pulling himself  on his  most  flavoured  canal the huge  chesthouse  of his
elders  (the Popapreta, and  some navico, navvies!) he  had flickered up and
flinnered  down into a  drug and drunkery  addict,  growing  megalomane of a
loose past. This explains the litany of septuncial lettertrumpets honorific,
highpitched,  erudite, neoclassical,which he  so  loved  as  patricianly  to
manuscribe  after  his  name.  It  would   have  diverted,if  ever  seen,the
shuddersome spectacle of this semidemented zany  amid  the inspissated grime
of his glaucous  den making  believe  to read  his usylessly unreadable Blue
Book of Eccles, 'dition de t'n?bres, (even yet sighs the Most Different, Dr.
Poindejenk,  authorised  bowdler and censor, it can't  be repeated!) turning
over three sheets at  a  wind,  telling himself delightedly, no espellor mor
so, that every splurge on the vellum he blundered over was an aisling vision
more gorgeous than the one before t.i.t.s., a roseschelle cottage by the sea
for  nothing for ever, a ladies tryon hosiery raffle at liberty, a  sewerful
of guineagold wine with brancomongepadenopie and sickcylinder  oysters worth
a billion a bite,  an  entire operahouse (there was to be stamping room only
in  the  prompter's  box  and  everthemore  his  queque  kept  swelling)  of
enthusiastic noblewomen flinging every  coronetcrimsoned stitch they had off
at his probscenium,one after  the  others,  inamagoaded into  ajustilloosing
themselves,  in their  gaiety pantheomime, when, egad,  sir, acordant to all
acountstrick,  he  squealed  the topsquall im  Deal  Lil  Shemlockup  Yellin
(geewhiz, jew ear  that  far!  soap ewer! loutgout of sabaous! juice like  a
boyd!) for fully five minutes,infinitely better than Baraton Mc Gluckin with
a scrumptious  cocked  hat  and  three green,  cheese  and tangerine trinity
plumes on the  right handle side  of his amarellous head,  a coat macfarlane
(the  kerssest  cut,  you  understand?)  a sponiard's  digger  at  his ribs,
(Alfaiate punxit) an  azulblu  blowsheet for  his blousebosom  blossom and a
dean's  crozier  that  he  won  from  Cardinal  Lindundarri   and   Cardinal
Carchingarri and Cardinal Loriotuli and Cardinal Occidentaccia (ah  ho!)  in
the dearby darby doubled for falling first over the  hurdles, madam, in  the
odder hand, a.a.t.s.o.t.,  but what with the murky light, the botchy  print,
the  tattered   cover,  the  jigjagged  page,  the  fumbling   fingers,  the
foxtrotting fleas, the lieabed lice, the scum on his tongue, the drop in his
eye, the lump in  his throat, the drink in his pottle, the itch in his palm,
the wail of his wind, the grief from his breath, the fog of his mindfag, the
buzz in  his braintree,  the tic of his  conscience, the height up his rage,
the gush down  his fundament, the fire in his gorge, the tickle of his tail,
the bane in his bullugs, the squince in his suil, the rot in  his eater, the
ycho in his earer, the totters of his toes, the tetters on his tumtytum, the
rats in his  garret, the bats in his belfry, the budgerigars  and bumbosolom
beaubirds, the hullabaloo and the dust in his ears since it took him a month
to steal a march he was hardset to mumorise more than a word  a week. Hake's
haulin!  Hook's  fisk! Can you beat  it? Whawe! I say,  can you bait it? Was
there ever heard of such lowdown blackguardism? Positively it woolies one to
think over it.
     Yet  the bumpersprinkler used to  boast  aloud alone to  himself with a
haccent on it when Mynfadher was  a  boer  constructor and Hoy was a lexical
student, parole, and corrected with the blackboard (trying to copy the stage
Englesemen he broughts their house down on, shouting: Bravure, surr Chorles!
Letter purfect! Culossal, Loose Wallor! Spache!) how he had been toed out of
all the schicker  families of the klondykers from  Pioupioureich, Swabspays,
the  land of Nod, Shruggers' Country, Pension Danubierhome and Barbaropolis,
who had settled  and  stratified in  the capital city  after its hebdomodary
metropoliarchialisation  as  sunblistered,  moonplastered,  gory, wheedling,
joviale, litcherous and full,  ordered  off  the gorgeous  premises  in most
cases on account  of his  smell which all cookmaids eminently objected to as
ressembling the bombinubble puzzo  that welled out  of the pozzo. Instead of
chuthoring those model households plain wholesome pothooks (a thing he never
possessed of his Nigerian own)  what do you  think Vulgariano  did but study
with stolen fruit how cutely to copy  all  their various styles of signature
so as one  day to utter an epical forged  cheque  on the public for  his own
private profit  until, as just related, the Dustbin's United  Scullerymaid's
and Househelp's  Sorority,  better known  as Sluttery's Mowlted Futt, turned
him down and assisted nature by unitedly shoeing the source of annoyance out
of the  place altogether  and taytotally on the heat of the moment,  holding
one another's gonk  (for  no-one, hound or  scrublady,  not  even  the Turk,
ungreekable in purscent  of the armenable, dared  whiff the polecat at close
range)  and  making  some  pointopointing  remarks as they  done  so at  the
perfects of the Sniffey, your honour, aboon the lyow why a stunk, mister.
     [Jymes  wishes to hear  from  wearers  of  abandoned  female  costumes,
gratefully  received, wadmel  jumper,  rather  full  pair  of  culottes  and
onthergarmenteries,  to start city life together. His  jymes is  out of job,
would sit and write. He has lately commited one of the then commandments but
she will now assist. Superior built, domestic, regular  layer.  Also got the
boot. He appreciates it. Copies. ABORTISEMENT.]
     One cannot even begin to post  figure out  a statuesquo ante  as to how
slow in reality the excommunicated Drumcondriac, nate Hamis, really was. Who
can say how many  pseudostylic shamiana, how  few or how  many  of  the most
venerated  public impostures,  how  very  many  piously  forged  palimpsests
slipped in the first place by this morbid process from his pelagiarist pen?
     Be that as it may, but for that light phantastic of his gnose's glow as
it slid lucifericiously  within an  inch of its page  (he would touch at its
from time to other, the  red eye of his fear in saddishness,  to  ensign the
colours by  the beerlitz in his  mathness and  his educandees  to  outhue to
themselves  in the  cries  of girlglee:  gember !  inkware !  chonchambre  !
cinsero !  zinnzabar !  tincture and gin!) Nibs never  would  have quilled a
seriph to sheepskin. By that rosy lampoon's effluvious burning and with help
of the simulchronic flush in his pann (a ghinee a ghirk he ghets there!)  he
scrabbled and scratched and  scriobbled and skrevened nameless shamelessness
about everybody ever he met, even sharing  a precipitation under the  idlish
tarriers'  umbrella  of  a  showerproof wall, while all over up and down the
four margins  of this rancid Shem stuff  the evilsmeller (who was devoted to
Uldfadar  Sardanapalus)  used  to stipple endlessly inartistic portraits  of
himself in the act of reciting old Nichiabelli's monolook interyerear Hanno,
o  Nonanno,  acce'l  brubblemm'as,  ser Autore,  q.e.d.,  a  heartbreakingly
handsome  young  paolo  with  love  lyrics  for  the goyls in  his eyols,  a
plaintiff's  tanner  vuice, a  jucal inkome of  one  hundred  and  thirtytwo
dranchmas per  yard from Broken Hill stranded  estate,  Camebreech mannings,
cutting a great dash  in  a  brandnew  two guinea dress  suit  and a  burled
hogsford hired for a Fursday  evenin merry pawty, anna loavely long pair  of
inky Italian moostarshes glistering with boric vaseline and frangipani. Puh!
How unwhisperably so!
     The  house   O'Shea  or  O'Shame,  Quivapieno,  known  as  the  Haunted
Inkbottle, no  number Brimstone Walk, Asia in Ireland,  as  it  was infested
with the  raps, with his penname  SHUT sepiascraped on  the doorplate  and a
blind  of  black   sailcloth   over  its  wan  phwinshogue,  in  which   the
soulcontracted son of the secret cell groped through  life at the expense of
the taxpayers, dejected into day and night with jesuit bark and bitter bite,
calicohydrants of zolfor  and scoppialamina by  full  and forty Queasisanos,
every  day in everyone's  way more  exceeding  in violent  abuse of self and
others, was the worst, it is hoped, even in our western playboyish world for
pure mousefarm filth. You brag of your  brass castle  or your tyled house in
ballyfermont?  Niggs, niggs  and  niggs  again. For  this  was  a  stinksome
inkenstink,  quite puzzonal  to  the  wrottel. Smatterafact,  Angles aftanon
browsing there  thought  not Edam  reeked  more rare. My  wud  !  The warped
flooring of the lair and soundconducting walls  thereof, to  say nothing  of
the uprights and imposts, were persianly literatured with burst loveletters,
telltale stories, stickyback  snaps, doubtful  eggshells, bouchers,  flints,
borers,  puffers,  amygdaloid  almonds,  rindless  raisins, alphybettyformed
verbage,  vivlical viasses, ompiter dictas, visus umbique, ahems and  ahahs,
imeffible tries at  speech unasyllabled, you owe  mes,  eyoldhyms,  fluefoul
smut, fallen lucifers, vestas which had served, showered ornaments, borrowed
brogues,  reversibles  jackets,  blackeye  lenses,  family  jars,  falsehair
shirts,   Godforsaken   scapulars,  neverworn  breeches,   cutthroat   ties,
counterfeit franks, best  intentions,  curried notes, upset latten tintacks,
unused  mill   and  stumpling  stones,  twisted   quills,  painful  digests,
magnifying wineglasses, solid  objects cast  at  goblins, once current puns,
quashed  quotatoes,  messes of mottage, unquestionable issue  papers,  seedy
ejaculations,  limerick  damns, crocodile tears,  spilt  ink,  blasphematory
spits,   stale   shestnuts,   schoolgirl's,   young   ladies,    milkmaids',
washerwomen's, shopkeepers' wives, merry widows',  ex  nuns', vice abbess's,
pro   virgins',   super   whores',   silent  sisters',   Charleys'   aunts',
grandmothers', mothers'-in-laws,fostermothers',  godmothers' garters,  tress
clippings from right, lift and  cintrum, worms  of snot, toothsome pickings,
cans of Swiss condensed  bilk, highbrow lotions, kisses from  the antipodes,
presents  from pickpockets,  borrowed plumes, relaxable  handgrips, princess
promises,   lees   of   whine,  deoxodised   carbons,  convertible  collars,
diviliouker  doffers, broken wafers, unloosed  shoe latchets, crooked strait
waistcoats, fresh horrors from Hades, globules of  mercury, undeleted glete,
glass eyes  for an eye,  gloss teeth for a tooth, war moans, special  sighs,
longsufferings of  longstanding,  ahs ohs ouis sis  jas  jos gias neys thaws
sos, yeses and yeses and yeses, to which,  if one has the stomach to add the
breakages,  upheavals distortions, inversions of  all this chambermade music
one stands, given  a grain of goodwill, a fair chance of actually seeing the
whirling  dervish, Tumult,  son of Thunder, self  exiled in upon  his  ego,a
nightlong a shaking betwixtween white or reddr hawrors, noondayterrorised to
skin and bone by  an ineluctable phantom (may the Shaper have mercery on him
!) writing the mystery of himsel in furniture.
     Of course our low hero was  a self  valeter by choice of need  so up he
got   up  whatever  is   meant   by  a   stourbridge  clay  kitchenette  and
lithargogalenu fowlhouse for the sake of akes (the umpple does not fall very
far from the dumpertree) which the moromelodious  jigsmith,  in defiance  of
the  Uncontrollable Birth  Preservativation  (Game and Poultry) Act, playing
lallaryrook cookerynook, by the dodginess of his lentern, brooled and cocked
and  potched  in an  athanor, whites and  yolks and yilks and  whotes to the
frulling  fredonnance of Mas blanca que la blanca  hermana and Amarilla, muy
bien, with cinnamon and locusts and wild beeswax and liquorice and Carrageen
moss and  blaster of Barry's  and  Asther's  mess and  Huster's micture  and
Yellownan's embrocation  and  Pinkingtone's patty and  stardust and sinner's
tears, acuredent to Sharadan's Art  of Panning, chanting,  for all regale to
the like of the legs he left behind  with  Litty  fun  Letty  fan Leven, his
cantraps of fermented words, abracadabra  calubra culorum, (his oewfs ... la
Madame Gabrielle de l'Eglise, his  avgs ... la Mistress  B. de B. Meinfelde,
his eiers Usquadmala ... la pomme de ciel, his uoves, oves and  uves  ... la
Sulphate  de  Soude, his ochiuri  sowtay  sowmmonay  a  la Monseigneur,  his
soufflosion  of  oogs  with  somekat  on  toyast  ...  la  M?re  Puard,  his
Poggadovies  alla Fenella, his Frideggs ...  la Tricar?me) in what was meant
for a closet (Ah ho! If only he had listened better to the four masters that
infanted  him  Father Mathew  and Le P?re  Noble  and Pastor Lucas and Padre
Aguilar--not  forgetting Layteacher  Baudwin!  Ah  ho!) His costive  Satan's
antimonian manganese  limolitmious nature  never  needed  such an alcove so,
when Robber and Mumsell, the pulpic dictators,on the nudgment of their legal
advisers,  Messrs Codex  and Podex, and under his  own benefiction  of their
pastor Father Flammeus Falconer, boycotted him of all muttonsuet candles and
romeruled stationery for any purpose, he winged  away on  a wildgoup's chase
across  the kathartic  ocean and made synthetic ink and sensitive  paper for
his own  end out of his wit's waste. You  ask,  in Sam Hill, how? Let manner
and  matter of  this for  these our  sporting  times be  cloaked  up in  the
language of blushfed porporates that an  Anglican  ordinal,  not reading his
own rude dunsky tunga, may ever  behold the brand of scarlet on the brow  of
her of Babylon and feel not the pink one in his own damned cheek.
     Primum  opifex,  altus prosator, ad terram viviparam et  cunctipotentem
sine  ullo pudore nec venia, suscepto pluviali atque discinctis perizomatis,
natibus  nudis uti  nati fuissent, sese adpropinquans,  flens  et gemens, in
manum suam  evacuavit (highly prosy,  crap  in  his  hand, sorry!),  postea,
animale   nigro  exoneratus,  classicum  pulsans,  stercus  proprium,   quod
appellavit deiectiones suas, in vas olim honorabile tristitiae posuit, eodem
sub  invocatione fratrorum geminorum  Medardi et Godardi  laete ac melliflue
minxit,psalmum qui incipit: Lingua mea calamus scribae velociter scribentis:
magna voce  cantitans  (did  a  piss,  says he  was  dejected,  asks  to  be
exonerated),  demum  ex stercore turpi cum divi Orionis  iucunditate  mixto,
cocto, frigorique exposito, encaustum sibi fecit indelibile (faked O'Ryan's,
the indelible ink).
     Then, pious Eneas, conformant to thc fulminant firman which enjoins  on
the  tremylose  terrian  that,   when  the  call  comes,  he  shall  produce
nichthemerically from his unheavenly body a no uncertain quantity of obscene
matter not protected by copriright in the United Stars  of Ourania or bedeed
and bedood and bedang and bedung to him, with this  double  dye, brought  to
blood heat, gallic  acid  on iron  ore, through the  bowels  of his  misery,
flashly,  faithly,  nastily, appropriately,  this  Esuan Menschavik and  the
first till last alshemist wrote over every square inch  of the only foolscap
available, his own body, till  by  its  corrosive sublimation o