BOOK: | I | II | III | IV |
|251 | 252 |253 |

queering his shoolthers. So was I. And as I was cleansing my1
fausties. So was he. And as way ware puffiing our blowbags.2
    Come, thrust! Go, parry! Dvoinabrathran, dare. The mad 4
long ramp of manchind's parlements, the learned lacklearning,5
merciless as wonderful.6
          Now may Saint Mowy of the Pleasant Grin be your ever- 7
glass and even prospect!8
          Feeling dank. 9
    Exchange, reverse. 10
          And may Saint Jerome of the Harlots' Curse make family 11
three of you which is much abedder!12
          Grassy ass ago. 13
    And each was wrought with his other. And his continence fell. 14
The bivitellines, Metellus and Ametallikos, her crown pretenders,15
obscindgemeinded biekerers, varying directly, uruseye each oxes-16
other, superfetated (never cleaner of lamps frowned fiercelier on17
anointer of hinges), while their treegrown girls, king's game, if18
he deign so, are in such transfusion just to know twigst timidy19
twomeys, for gracious sake, who is artthoudux from whose20
heterotropic, the sleepy or the glouch, for, shyly bawn and21
showly nursured, exceedingly nice girls can strike exceedingly22
bad times unless so richtly chosen's by (what though of riches23
he have none and hope dashes hope on his heart's horizon) to gar24
their great moments greater. The thing is he must be put strait25
on the spot, no mere waterstichystuff in a selfmade world that26
you can't believe a word he's written in, not for pie, but one's27
only owned by naturel rejection. Charley, you're my darwing!28
So sing they sequent the assent of man. Till they go round if29
they go roundagain before breakparts and all dismissed. They30
keep. Step keep. Step. Stop. Who is Fleur? Where is Ange? Or31
    Creedless, croonless hangs his haughty. There end no moe red 33
devil in the white of his eye. Braglodyte him do a katadupe! A con-34
damn quondam jontom sick af a suckbut! He does not know how35
his grandson's grandson's grandson's grandson will stammer up36