FINNEGANS WAKE

Proofs

Galleys, 2 copies, April 1937-December 1938, §1A draft level 13, 13+

MS British Library 47487 2-9; 139-146 Draft details

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Hark!

Tolv two elf kater ten (it can't be) sax.

Hork!

Pedwar pemp foify tray (it must be) twelve!

And low stole o'er the stillness the heartbeats of sleep.

White fogbow spans. The arch embattled. Mark has capsules. The nose of the man who was nought like the nasoes. It is selftinted, wrinkling, ruddled. His kep is a gorsecone. He am Gascon Titubante of Tegmine-sub-Fagi whose fixtures are mobiling so wobiling befear my remembrandts. She, exhibit next, his Anastashie. She has prayings in lowdelph. Zeehere green eggbrooms. What named blautoothdmand is you who stares? Gugurtha! Gugurtha! He has becco of wild hindigan. Ho, he hath hornhide! And hvis now is for you. Pensée! The most beautiful of woman of the veilch veilchen veilde. She would kidds to my voult of my palace with obscidian lupas, her aal in her dhove's suckling. Apagemonite! Come not nere! Black! |13Switch out!º13|

Methought as I was dropping asleep somepart in nonland of where's please |13(+(and it was when you and they were we)+)13| I heard at zero hour as 'twere the peal of vixen's laughter among midnight's chimes from out the belfry of the cute old speckled church tolling so faint a goodmantrue as nighthood's unseen violet rendered all animated greatbritish and Irish objects nonviewable to human watchers save 'twere perchance anon some glistery
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gleam darkling adown surface of affluvial flowandflow as again might seem garments of laundry reposing a leasward close at hand in full expectation. And as I was jogging along in a dream as dozing I was dawdling, arrah, methought broadtone was heard and the creepers and the gliders and the flivvers of the earthbreath and the dancetongues of the woodfires and the hummers in their ground all vociferated, echoating: Shaun! Shaun! Post the post! with a high voice and, O, the higher on high the deeper and low. I
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heard him so. And lo, meseemed somewhat came of the noise and somewho might amove among allmurk. Now 'twas as clump, now mayhap. When look was light and now 'twas as flasher, now (+13more moren+)13| as the (+13glow glaow+)13|. Ah, in unlitness 'twas in very similitude, bless me, 'twas his belted lamp! |13Whom we dreamt was a shaddo, sureº he's lightseyes, the laddo! Blessed momence, O romence, he's growing to stay!13| Ay, he who so swayed a will of a wisp before me, |13handº prop to hand, prompt side to the pros,13| dressed like an earl in just the correct wear, in a classy mac Frieze o'coat of far suparior ruggedness, indigo braw, tracked and tramped, freeswinging from his shoulthern, and an Irish ferrier collar, and thick welted brogues on him with mereswine lacers hammered to suit the scotsmost public and climate, iron heels and sparable soles, and his jacket of providence wellprovided woollies with a softrolling lisp of a lapel to it and great sealingwax buttons, a good helping bigger than the slots for them, of twentytwo carrot krasnapoppsky's red, and his invulnerable burlap whiskcoat and his popular choker, Tamagnum sette-and-forte, and his loudboheem toy and the damasker's overshirt he sported inside, a starspangled zephyr with a decidedly surpliced crinklydoodle front with his motto through dear life embrothered over it in peas, rice and |s+13yeggyolk yeggyyolks+|13|, |13R Or13| for royal, |13M Am13| for Mail, R.M.D. hard cash on the nail, and the most successfully carried gigot turnups now you ever |13(|shwhat a pairfact crease! how amsolookly kersse!sh|)13| breaking over the ankle and hugging the shoeheel, everything the best, was none other from (Ah, then, may the turtle's blessings of God and Mary and Haggispatrick and Huggisbrigid be souptumbling all over him!) other than (and may his hundred thousand welcome stewed
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letters relayed and postchased multiply, ay, faith, and plultiply!) Shaun himself.

What a picture primitive!

Had I the concordant wiseheads of Messrs Gregory and Lyons alongside of Dr Tarpey's and, I dorsay, the reverend Mr MacDougall's, but I, poor ass, am but as their fourpart tinckler's dunkey. Yet methought Shaun (holy messenger angels be uninterruptedly nudging him among and along the winding ways of random ever!) Shaun in proper person (now may all the bluebacksliding constellations continue to shape his changeable timetable!) stood before me. And I pledge you my agricultural word, by the hundred and sixty odds rods and cones of this even's vision, that young fellow looked the stuff, the Bel of Beaus' Walk, a prime card if ever was! Pep? Now without deceit it is hardly too much to say he was looking grand, so fired smart, in much more than his usual health. No mistaking that beamish brow, those jehovial oyeglances! The heart of the roll! And hit the hencoop. There was one for you that ne'er would nunch with good Duke Humphrey but would
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(13ate aight13) through the months without a sign of an err in hem and then, otherwise rounding, fourale to the lees of Traroe. He was immense, topping swell, for he was after having a great time of it, a twentyfour hours every moment matters maltsight, in a porterhouse, scutfrank, if you want to know, Saint Lawzenge of Toole's, the Wheel of Fortune, leave your clubs in the hall and wait on yourself, no chucks for walnut ketchups, Lazenby's and Chutney graspis (the house the once queen of Bristol and Balrothery twice admired because her frumped door looked up Dacent Street), where in the sighed of lovely eyes, while |13|+, (the Jaonnik!),+|13| his knives of hearts made havoc, he had recruited his strength by meals of spadefuls of mounded food|13|+, in anticipation of the faste of tablenapkins,+|13| constituting his threepartite |13pranzipal13| eatings plus a collation, his breakfast of, first, a bless us O blood and thirsthy orange, next, the half of a pint of bacon with newled googs and a segment of a rice plummy padding, met of sunder suigar, and some cold forsoaken steak peatrefired from the batblack night o'erflown, then|13, |shwithout prejuicesh| to evectuals,13|
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came along merendally his stockpot dinner of a half a pound of round steak very rare, Blong's best from Portarlington's Butchery with a side of riceypeasy and Corkshire alla mellonge and bacon with |13|+(a little mar pliche?!)+|13| a pair of chops and thrown in from the silver grid by the proprietoress of the roastery who lives on a hill and gaulusch gravy and pumpernickel to wolp up and a gorger's bulby onion (Margareatar, Margareatar, Margarasticandeatar) and as well with second course and then finally, after his |+13lunch avalunch+|13| o'clock snack |13|+|aat Appelredt'sa| at Kitzy Broten'sº+|13| of saddlebag steak and a Botherhim with |13|+her+|13| old phoenix porter|13|+|a, jistr toa| to |agwenn gwena| his gwistell,+|13| and praties sweet and Irish too and mock gurgle |13to whistle his way through13| for the swallying|13, swp by swp, and he getting his tongue aroundº it13| and Boland's broth broken into the bargain, to his regret his soupay avic nightcap, vitellusit, a carusal consistent with second course and |13eiers eyers13| and bacon (the rich of) with broad beans |+13and, hig,+|13| steak |+13and, hag,+|13| pepper, the diamond bone, hotted up |13|+timmtomm+|13| and while 'twas after that he scoffed a drakeling snuggily stuffed following cold loin of veal more cabbage and, in their green free state, a clister of peas, suppositorily petty, last. P.S. But a fingerhot of rhein genever to give the Pax cum Spiritututu. Drily thankful. |+13Bread Burud+|13| and dulse and typureely jam, all free of charge|13|+, aman,+|13| and. And the best of wine avec. |13For his heart was as big as himself, so it was, ay, and bigger.13| While the loaves are aflowering and the nachtingale jugs. All St Jilian's of Berry, hurrah there for tobies! Mavrodaphne, brown pride of our custard house quay, amiable with repastful, cheer us, graciously cheer us! Ever of Thee, Anne Lynch, he's deeply draiming! Houseanna. Tea is the Highest! For auld lang Ayternitay! Thus thicker will he grow now, grew
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new. And better and better on butter and butter. At the sign of Mesthress Vanhungrig. |13|+However!+|13| Mind you, nuckling down to nourritures, were they menuly some ham and jaffas, and I don't mean to |13say |shmake the ingestionsh|13| for the moment that he was guilbey of gulpable gluttony as regards chewable boltaballs, but, biestings be biestings, and upon the whole, when not off his oats, given prelove appetite and postlove pricing, goodcoup, goodcheap, were it thermidor oogst or floreal may
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while the whistling prairial roysters play, between gormandising and gourmeteering he grubbed his tuck all right, deah smorregos, every time he was for doing dirt to a meal or felt like a bottle of ardilaun alongwith a smag of a lecker biss of a welldressed taart or. Though his net intrants wight weighed nought but a flyblow to his gross and ganz exit's afterduepoise. And he was so jarvey jaunty with a romp of a schoolgirl's completion sitting pretty over his Oyster Monday printface and he was plainly out on the ramp and mash, as you might say, for he sproke.

|13Overture and beginners!º13|

When lo (whish, O whish!) mesaw mestreamed|13, as the green to the gridº was flew, was flown,13| through deafths of durkness |13greengrown deeper13| I heard a voice, the voce of Shaun, vote of the Irish, voice from afar (and, cert, no purer puer palestrine e'er chanted Panis Angelicus mid the clouds of Tu es Petrus, not Michaeleen Kelly, not Mara O'Mario, and, sure, what more numerose Italicuss ever rawsucked frish uov in urinal?)|13|+, a brieze |aof toa| Yverzone o'er the brozaozaozing sea,+|13| from Inchigeela call the way how it suspired (morepork! morepork!) to scented nightlife as softly as the loftly marconimasts from Clifden sough open tireless secrets (mauveport! mauveport!) to Nova Scotia's listing sisterwands. Tubetube!

His handpalm lifted, his handshell cupped, his handsign pointed, his handheart mated, his handaxe risen, his handleaf fallen. Helpsome hand that halemost heals! What is het holy! It gested.

And it said:

— Alo, alass, aladdin, amobus! Does she lag soft fall means rest down? Shaun yawned|13, as his general |aaddressa| rehearsal13| (that was antepropreviousday's pigeons-in-a-pie with rough dough for the carrier and the hash-say-ugh of overgestern pluzz the 'stuesday's shampain in his head |13|shwithº the memories of the past and the hicnuncs of the present embelliching the musics of the futures from Miccheruni's bandsh|13|), addressing himself ex alto and complaining with vocal discontent it was so close as of the fact |13the rag was up and of the briefs and billpasses, a houseful of deadheads,13| of him to dye his paddycoats to morn his hesternmost,
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earning his board in the swealth of his fate as, having moistened his |s+13mandibles manducatorss+|13| upon the quiet and scooping
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molars and grinders clean with his two forefingers, he sank |+13down his hunk, dowanouet,º+|13| to reszk at once, exhaust as winded hare, utterly spent, it was all he could do (disgusted with himself that the combined weight |13of his tons of iosals13| was |13a hundred men's massed13| too much for him), upon the native heath he loved, covered kneehigh with virgin bush, for who who e'er trod sod of Erin could ever sleep off the turf. Well, I'm literally dished seeing myself in this trim! How all too unwordy am I, a mere mailman of peace, a poor |13|+loust+|13| hastehater of the first degree, the principot of Candia, no legs and a title, for such eminence, or unpro promenade rather, to be much more exact, as to be the bearer extraordinary of these postoomany missive on his majesty's |+13service. |aservice! service,ºa| while me and yous and them we're extending us after the pattern of reposiveness! Weh is me, yeh is ye!+|13| I, the mightif beam maircanny, which bit his mirth too early or met his birth too late! It should of been my other with his leickname for he's the head and I'm an everdevoting fiend of his. |13I can seeze tomirror in tosdays of yer when we lofobsed os so ker. Those sembal simon pumpkel pieman |adays yersa|!13| We shared the twin chamber and we winked on the one wench and what Sim sobs todie I'll reeve tomorry, for 'twill be, I have hopes of, Sam Dizzier's feedst. Tune in, tune on, old Tighe, high, high, high, I'm thine owelglass. Be old! He looks rather thin, imitating me. I'm very fond of that other of mine. Fish hands, Macsorley! |13Elien! Obsequies! Bonzeye! Isaac Egan'sº Ass!13| We're the musichall pair |13that won the swimmyease bladdhers at the Guinness gala in |aIveagh Badeniveagha|13|. I ought not to laugh with him on this stage. But he's such a game loser! I lift my disk to him. |13Brass and reeds, brace and ready!13| How is your napper, Handy, and hownow does she stand? |13First he was living to feel what the eldest daughter she was panseying and last he was dying to know what old Madre Patriack does be up to.13| Take this John's Lane in your toastingfourch. Shaunti and shaunti and shaunti again! And twelve (13colander coolinder13) moons! |13I am no |+helotwashupper helotwashipper+| but13| I revere her! |13|+For my own aº coant!+|13| She has studied! Piscisvendolor! |13|+You're grace! Futs droukº of
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Wouldndom!
+|13| But, Gemini, he's looking frightfully thin! I heard the |+13banshee singing man Sheeº shinging+|13| in the pantry bay. Down among the dustbins let him lie! Ear! Ear! Not aye! Eye! Eye! For I'm at the heart of it. Yet I cannot on my solemn merits as a recitativer recollect ever having done of anything of the kind to deserve of such. Not the phost of a nation. Nor by a long trollop. I just didn't have the time to. Saint Anthony Guide!

— But have we until now ever besought you, dear Shaun, we remembered, who it was, good boy, out of symphony to begin with, who gave you the permit?
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— Goodbye |13|+now+|13|, Shaun replied with a voice pure as a churchmode, in echo rightdainty, with a good catlick tug at his cocomoss candylock, a foretaste in time of his cabbageous brain's curlyflower. Athiacaro! Comb his tar odd gee sing your mower O meeow? Greet thee Good! How are them columbuses? Lard have mustard on them! Fatiguing, very fatiguing. Hobos hornknees and the corveeture of my spine. |13|+Poumeerme!+|13| My heaviest crux and dairy lot it is|13, |shwith a bed as hard as the thinkamuddles of the Greeks and a board as bare as a Roman altarsh|13|. I'm off rabbited kitchens and relief porridgers. No later than a very few fortnichts since I was meeting on the Thinker's Dam with a pair of men out of glasshouse whom I shuffled hands with named MacBlacks — I think their names is MacBlakes from the Headfire Clump — and they were informing me |13and making me beliek13| no five hour factory life with insufficient emollient and industrial diseases for them that day o'gratises. |13|shI have the highest gratification by anuncingsh| how13| I have it from whowho but Hagios Colleenkiller's prophecies. After suns and moons, dews and wettings, thunders and fires, comes sabotag. Solvitur palumballando! |13Tilvido! Adie!13|

— Then, we explained, salve a tour, ambly andy, you possibly might be so by order?

— Forgive me, Shaun repeated from his liquid lipes, not what I wants to do a strike of work but it was condemned on me premitially by Hireark Books and Chiefoverseer Cooks in their Eusebian Concordant Homilies, and there does be a power coming
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over me that is put upon me from on high out of the book of breedings and so as it is becoming hairydittary I have of coerce nothing in view to look forward at unless it is Swann and beating the blindquarters out of my oldfellow's orologium oloss olorium. A bad attack of maggot it feels like. 'Tis trope, custodian said. Almost might I say of myself, while keeping out of crime, I am now becoming about fed up be going circulating about |13them new k |shhikler's highwayssh|13| like them nameless souls|13|+, ercked and skorned and grizzild all over,+|13| till it's rusty October in this bleak forest and that is why I was veribally complussed by thinking of the crater of some noted volcano or the Dublin river or the catchalot trouth subsidity as a way out or to isolate i from my multiple Mes on the spits of Lumbage Island or bury meself, clogs, |13|shcanteensh| coolcellar13| and all, deep in my wineupon |13pontoon ponteen13|, unless Morrissey's colt could help me or the gander maybe at 49, as it is a tithe fish so it is, this pig's stomach business, and where on dearth or in the miraculous meddle of this expending umniverse to turn since it came into my hands I am hopeless off course to be doing anything concerning.

— We expect you are, Honest Shaun, we agreed, but a whisper reaches us from franking machines, limricked, that in the end it may well turn
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out to be you, our belated, who will bear these open letter. |13Speak to us of Emailia.13|

— As, Shaun replied patly, with tootlepick tact too and a down of his dampers, to that I have the gumpower and, by the benison of Barbe, that |13has is13| a lock to say with everything, my beloved.

— Would you mind telling us, Shaun honey, |13|+beg little big moreboy,+|13| we proposed to such a dear youth, where mostly are you able to work? Ah, you might! Whimper and we shall.

— Here! Shaun replied while he was fondling one of his cowheel cuffs. There's no sabbath for nomads and I mostly was able to walk, being too soft for work proper, sixty odd eilish mires a week between three masses a morn and two chaplets at eve. I am always telling those pedestriasts, my answerers, |13|shTop, Sid and Huckysh|,13| how (and it is as veriest throth as the thieves' rescension)
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it was foretold for me by brevet for my |13|shvocationsh| |shvacation in lifesh|13|, while possessing stout legs, to be disbarred after huily orders from unnecessary servile work of reckless walking of all sorts for the relics of my time, for otherwise (13by my so douching13) I would get into a blame there where |13thieves sievesº13| fall out. Excelsior tips the best. |13|shWeak stop work stop walk stop whoak.sh|13| Go thou this island, one housesleep there, then go thou other island, two housesleep there, then catch one nightmaze, then home to dearies. Never back a woman you defend, never get quit of a friend on whom you depend, never make face to a foe till he's rife, and never get stuck to another man's pfife. His hungry will be done! On the continent as in Eironesia. But, believe me, in my simplicity I am awful good, I believe, so I am, at the root of me, praised be right cheek Discipline! And I can now truthfully declaret before my Geity's Pantokreator with my fleshfettered palums on the epizzles of the apossels that I do my reasonabler's best to recite my grocery beans for mummy mit dummy |13|+mot muthar mat bouzarº+|13| regular, genuflections enclosed. Hek domov muy, there thou beest on the hummock, ghee up, ye dog, for your daggily broth, etc. Happy Maria and Glorious Patrick, etc., etc. In fact, always have, I believe. Greedo! Her's me hongue! Amen, ptah!

— And it is the fullsoot of a tarabred. Yet one minute's observation, dear dogmestic Shaun, as we point out how you have while away painted our town a wearing greenridinghued.

— O murder mere, how did you hear? Shaun replied, smoiling the ily way up his lampsleeve (it just seemed the natural thing to do), so shy of light was he then. Well, so be it! The gloom hath rays, her lump is love. And I will confess to have, yes. |13Your |shdiognesessh| is anonest man's.13| Thrubedore I did. Inditty I did. All lay I did. |13|+Down with the Saozon ruze! |xFrom Pontoffbellek till the Kisslemerched our ledan striz will be.ºx|+|13| And I am afraid it wouldn't
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be my first coat's wasting after striding on the vampire and blazing on the focoal. See! Blazing on the focoal. As see! Blazing upon the foe. Like the regular redshank I am. Impregnable as the mule himself. Somebody may perhaps hint at an aughter impression of I was wrong. No such a thing! You never made a more freudful mistake, excuse yourself! What's pork to you means meat to
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me while you behold how I be eld. But it is grandiose, by my ways of thinking, from the prophecies. New worlds for all! And they were scotographically arranged for gentlemen only by a scripchewer in Whofoundland who finds he is a relative. And it was with my extravert davy. Like glue. Be through. Moyhard's daynoight, tomthumb. Phwum!

— How mielodorous is thy bel chant, O songbird, and how exqueezit thine afterdraught! Buccinate in Emenia tuba insigni volumnitatis tuae. But do you mean, O phausdheen phewn, we gathered substantively, whether furniture would or verdure varnish?

— It is a confoundyous injective so to say, Shaun, the fiery boy, shouted, naturally incensed, as he shook the red pepper out of his auricles. And another time please confine your glaring intinuations to some other mordant body. What on the physiog of this furnaced planet would I be doing besides your verjuice? That is more than I can fix|13|+, for the teom bihan,+|13| anyway. So let I and you now kindly drop that, angryman! That's not French pastry! You can take it from me. Understand me when I tell you (and I will ask you not to whisple, cry golden or quoth mecback) that under the past purcell's office, so deeply deplored by my erstwhile elder friend, Miss Enders, poachmistress and gay receiver ever for in particular to the Scotic Poor Men's |13Thousand Gallonº13| Cow Society (I was thinking of her in sthore), allbethey blessed with twentytwo thousand sorters out of a biggest poss of twentytwo thousand, mine's won, too much privet stationery and safty quipu was ate up larchly by those nettlesome goats out of pension greed. |13Colpa di Becco,º buon apartita!13| Proceding, I will say it is also one of my avowal's intentions at some time, pease Pod pluse murthers of gout, when I am not prepaid to say, |13so apt as my pen is upt to scratch,13| to compound quite the makings of a verdigrease savingsbook in the form of a pair of scapesheep boxing gloves surrounding this matter |13of the |shWelsfusel masoteers and their sindybuck that saved a citysh|13| for my publickers, Nolaner and Browno, Nickil Hopstout, Christcross, so long as,
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thanks to force of destiny, my selary as a paykelt is propaired and there is a peg under me and there is a tum till me.

To the Very Honourable The Memory of Disgrace, the Most Noble, Sometime Sweepyard at the Service of the Writer. |13Salutem dicint.13| The just defunct Mrs Sanders who (the Loyd insure her!) I was shift and shuft too|13, with |aher shestera| Mrs
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|aSunders Shundersa|, both mudical dauctors |afrom highschoolhorsea| and aslyke as Easther's leggs
13|. She was the niceliest person of a wellteached nonparty woman that I ever acquired her letters, only too fat, used to babies and tottydean verbish, this is her entertermentdags for she shuk the bottle and tuk the medascene all times a day. She was well under ninety, poor late Mrs, and had tastes of the poetics, me having stood the pilgarlick a fresh at sea when the moon also was standing in a corner of sweet Standerson my ski. P.L.M. Mevrouw von Andersen was her who gave me a mutton brooch, stakkers, for her begfirst party. Honour thy farmer and my litters. This, my tears, is my last will intesticle wrote off in the strutforit about their absent female assauciations which I, or perhaps any other person what squat on a toffette, have the honour to have had with them upon their polite sophykussens in the real presence of devouted Mrs Grumby when her skin was exposed to the air. O, what must the grief of my mund be for two little ptpt coolies worth twenty thousand quad here witnessed with both's Maddlemass wishes to Pepette for next match from their dearly beloved Roggers, M.D.D.O.D. May doubling drop of drooght! Writing.

— Hapsoloosely kidding you are totether with your cadenus and goat along nose how we shall complete that white paper. Two venusstas! Biggerstiff! |13|+Qweer but gaouº! Be trouz and wholetrouz!+|13| Otherwise, frank Shaun, we pursued, what would be the autobiography of your softbodied fumiform?

— Hooraymost! None whomsoever, Shaun replied (he had intended and was peering now rather close to the paste of his rubiny winklering), though it ought to be more or less rawcawcaw romantical. Heavenly blank! By the wag, how is Mr Fry? All of it, I might say, |13in ex-voto,13| pay and perks and wooden halfpence
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(some rhino, rhine, O joyoust rhine!), was handled over spondaneously by me (and bundle end to my illwishers' Miss Anders! she woor her wraith of ruins the night she lost I left) in the ligname of Mr van Howten of Tredcastles, Clowntalkin, timbreman, among my prodigits nabobs and navious of every subscription, entitled the Bois in the Bosco or our evicted tenemants. What I say is (and I am noen roehorn or culkilt, permit me to tell you, if uninformed), I never spont it. Nor have I the ghuest of (13a nation innation13) on me the way to. It is my rule so. It went anyway like hot pottagebake. And this brings me to my fresh point. Quoniam I am as plain as portable enveloped, inhowmuch you will now parably receive, care of one of Mooseyears |s+13Guinness's Goonness'ss+|13| registered andouterthus barrels. Quick take um whiffat andrainit. |13|+Now!+|13|