Whileº in Pacata Hibernia, one word burrowing on another, Standfest, our topical hero, signs is on his big bastile back & his white patch the
towelturbaned, and Flower, silvering for her jubilee with eve's birch leaves for her jointure our lady in waving, girt with a wraparound, visage
full of flesh and fat as hen's in forehead, Airyanna and Blowybart, that royal pair, in their house of the hundred bottles, a palace of quicken boughs, hight, the Goat and Compasses (phone number 17·69 if you want to know), discusst the past, his sea arms round her, her eyne ashipwracked, the angerache of their love and the
hungerbrood it bore em, scribbledehobbles, in whose veins runs a mixture of, are head bent hard upon their pensums.
It is turned of seven with eight chimes all tolled. Dogs' vespers are at end. Yet wind will be ere fruminy time be come and asterisks answer the most devouted of us. Flying too are the evenbirds. And, for one superstationer at least, the hearse of the kine shall pass at last. What a terrible piece of business surely (forº such as keep his peace and follow his war, that old king must be killed off withsamt his dam and embalmed in honey for dynastic continuity, rivers breaking forth for joy at his funeral!
But trifid tongue, others woo will and work for, becaused of his cleverism, and dove without gall, that backslapping gladhander, and his
singing likeness who lives more in the florid future than in a past of bloody altars with her whose mind's a jilldaw's nest since she tears up letters she ne'er posed a pen upon when bother her goldfashioned's in such a queer of a mood that she simply can't stand it, a couple and an odd one they strive and in earnest.º