Revised pages of transition 5 (August 1927), early 1930s-1933, I.5 draft level 9, 9+

MS British Library 47475 43-51; 132-140 Draft details

{f39, 104}
{f10, 83}

|9|xIn the name of Annah the |~allmazyful Allmaziful~|, the Everliving, the Bringer of Plurabilities, |~hallowed haloed~| be her eve, her singtime |~song sung~|, her rill be run,º unhemmed as it is uneven!º |~Mamam.~|x|9|

Her untitled |9memorial to the allhighest mamafesta memorialising the |~allhighest Mosthighest~|9| has gone by many names at disjointed times. Thus we hear of Amoury Treestam and Icy Siseule, Saith a Sawyer til a Strame, Ik dik dopedope et tu mihimihi, Buy Birthplate for a Bite, Which of your Hesterdays Mean ye to Morra?, Hoebegunne the Hebrewer Hit Waterman the Brayned, Arcs in his Ceiling Flee Chinx on the Flur, Rebus de Hibernicis, The Crazier Letters, Groans of a Britoness, An Apology for a Big (|s+9the nonoun Husband some such nonoun asº Husband orº Husboatº orº Hoseboundºs+|9| is probably understood), Ought |9We One9| To Visit |9Him? One?9|, For Ark see Zoo, Cleopater's Needlework Ficturing Aldborougham on the Sahara with the Coombing of the Cammmels and the Parlourmaids of Aegypt, Cock in the Pot for Father, Placeat Vestrae, A New Cure for an Old Clap, Twenty of Chambers, Weighty Ten Beds and a Wan Ceteroom, The Following Fork, He's my O'Jerusalem and I'm his Po, The Best in the West, Try Our Taal on a Taub, |9|xThe Log of Anny to the Base All,ºx| Intimier Minnelisp of an Extorreor Monolothe,º |s+I Ask You to Believe I was his Mistress,ºs+| |xHe Can Explain,ºx| |xFrom Victrolia Nuancee to Allbart Noahnsy, Huskvy Admortal,x| |xWhat |~Jombo Jumbo~| |apaid to madeºa| Jalice and what Anisette to Him,x| |xOphelia's Culpreinte,x| |~Hear Hubty Hublin,~| |xMy Old Danskº,x| |++I am Older nor theº Rogues among Whisht I Slips and He Calls Me his Dual of Ayessha,++| |+Of the Two Ways of Opening the Mouth, I have not Stopped Water Where It Should Flow and I Know the |aForty Twentyninea| Names of Attraente, How to Pull a Good Horuscoup even when Oldsire is Dead to the World,º |sablank My Hair Appeals to Three Senses and |++blank My Curly Lips Demand Columbkisses,º++|sa| Them Lads made a Trion of Battlewatschers and They Totties a |adoit Doeita| of Deers, |sablank In My Lord's Bed by One Whore Went Through It,ºsa| He Gaveº me a Thou so I
{f39, 106}
Serveº Him with Thee,º |aI'm the Stitch in his Baskside,º You'd be Nought withoutº Mom,a| |xNorsker, Torsker,º Find the Poddle,º O'Loughlin, Up from the Pit of my Stomach I Swish you the White of the Mourning,x|+| |++I Knew I'd Got it in Me so Thit Settlesº That,º It Was Me Egged Him Onº to the Stork Exchange and Lent Myº Dutiful Face to His Customs,
++|9| Pickedmeup Peters, Lumptytumtumpty had a Big Pall, Pimpimp Pimpimp, Measly Ventures of Two Lice and the Fall of Fruit, Seen Aples and Thin Dyed, i big U to Beleaves from Love and Mother, Fine's Fault was no Felon, Exat Delvin
{f10, 85}
Renter Life
, His is the House that Malt Made, Divine Views from Back to the Front, Allfor Guineas, Sounds and Compilments Libidous, Seven Wives Awake Aweek, Airy Ann and Berber Blut, Amy Licks Porter while Huffy Chops Eads, Abbrace of Umbellas or a Trippple of Caines, Buttbutterbust, From the Manorlord Hoved to the Misses O'Mollies and from the Dames to their Sames, Manyfestoons for the Colleagues on the Green, First and Last Only True Account all about the Honorary |+9Mr Mirsu+|9| Earwicker L.S.D. and the Snake by a Woman of the World who only can Tell Naked Truths about a Dear Man and all his Conspirators how they all Tried to Fall him by Putting it all around Lucalizod about Earwicker and a Pair of Sloppy Sluts plainly Showing all the Unmentionability falsely Accusing about the Redcoats.

The proteiform graph itself is a polyhedron of scripture. There was a time when naif alphabetters would have written it down the tracing of a purely deliquescent recidivist, possibly ambidextrous, snubnosed probably and presenting a strangely profound rainbowl in his (or her) occiput. Closer inspection of the bordereau would reveal a multiplicity of personalities inflicted on the document and some prevision of virtual crime or crimes might be made by anyone unwary enough before any suitable occasion for it or them had so far managed to happen along. In fact, under the close eyes of the inspector the traits featuring the chiaroscuro coalesce, their contrarieties eliminated, in one stable somebody similarly as by the providential warring of heartshaker with housebreaker and of dramdrinker against freethinker our social something bowls along bumpily, experiencing a jolting series of prearranged disappointments, down the long lane of (it's as semper as oxhousehumper!) generations, more generations and still more generations.

Say, who in hell wrote the durn thing
{f39, 108}
{f10, 86}
Erect, beseated, |9ahorseback |s+ablankback amountbackºs+|9|, against a partywall, below zero, by the use of quill or style, with turbid or pellucid mind, accompanied or the reverse by mastication, interrupted by visit of seer to (+9scribb scribe+)9| or of (+9scribb scribe+)9| to site, atwixt two showers or atosst of a trike, rained upon or blown around, by a rightdown regular racer from the soil or by a too pained whittlewit laden with the loot of learning?

Now, patience. And remember patience is the great thing. And above all things else we must avoid anything like being or becoming out of patience. A good plan used by worried business folk is just to think of all the sinking fund of patience possessed in their conjoint names by both brothers Bruce with whom |s+9is ares+|9| incorporated their Scotch spider |9|x|s+(yeigh, shrewd sickleman? Elberfeld's calculating horses, neigh!) and Elberfeld's Calculating Horsess+|x|9|. If after years upon years of delving in ditches dark one tubthumper more than others has got up for the purpose of reassuring us that our great ascendant was properly speaking three syllables less than his own surname (yes, |9yes,9| less!), that the ear of |9|s+Dion Dionnºs+|9| Earwicker aforetime was the trademark of a broadcaster with wicker local |9cant jargot9| for an ace's patent (Hear! Calls! Everywhair!), then as to this radiooscillating epiepistle to which we must ceaselessly return, whereabouts exactly at present in Siam, Hell or Tophet is that bright soandsuch to slip us the dinkum oil?

Naysayers we know. To conclude purely negatively from the positive absence of political odia and monetary requests that its page cannot ever have been a penproduct of a man or woman of that period or those parts is only one more unlookedfor conclusion leaped at, being tantamount to inferring from the nonpresence of inverted commas (sometimes called quotation marks) on any page that its author was always constitutionally incapable of misappropriating the spoken words of others.
{f39, 109}

Luckily there is another cant to the questy. Has any fellow |9ofº the dime a dozen type9|, it might with some profit some dull evening quietly be hinted — has any usual sort of ornery josser|9, |+flatchested,º fortyish, faintly flatulent and+| given to ratiocination by syncopation in the elucidation of complications,º9| ever looked sufficiently longly at a quite |9everydaylooking everywaylookingº9| stamped addressed envelope? Admittedly it is an outer husk: its face is its fortune: it exhibits only the civil or military clothing of whatever passionpallid nudity or plaguepurple
{f10, 87}
nakedness may happen to tuck itself under its flap. Yet to concentrate solely on the literal sense or even the psychological content of any document to the sore neglect of the enveloping facts themselves circumstantiating it is just as hurtful to sound sense (and, let it be added, to the truest taste) as were some fellow in the act of perhaps getting an intro from another fellow turning out to be a friend in need of his, say, to a lady of the latter's acquaintance straightway to run off and vision her plump and plain in her natural altogether, preferring to close his blinkhard's eyes to the fact that she was, after all, wearing for the space of the time being some definite articles of evolutionary clothing, inharmonious creations, a captious critic might describe them as, or not strictly necessary or a trifle irritating here and there but for all that suddenly full of local colour and personal perfume and suggestive, too, of so very much more and capable of being stretched, filled out, if need or wish were, of having their surprisingly like coincidental parts separated, don't they now, for better survey by the deft hand of an expert, don't you know? Who in his heart doubts either that the facts of feminine clothiering are there all the time or that the feminine fiction, stranger than the facts, is there also at the same time, only a little to the rere? Or that one may be separated from the other? Or that both may then be contemplated simultaneously? Or that each may be taken up and considered in turn apart from the other?
{f39, 110}

Here let a few artifacts |9speak fend9| in their own favour. That stern chuckler, Mayhappy Mayhapnot, once said to repeation that Lucalizod was the one place in this vaal of tares where the possible was the improbable and the improbable the inevitable. If the proverbial bishop of our holy and undivided havvermashed his two nails on the head we are in for a sequentiality of improbable possibles though possibly nobody after having grubbed up a lock of cwold cworn aboove his subject probably in Harrystotalies or the vivle will go out of his way to applaud him on the back of his remark for, utterly impossible as are all these here events, they are probably as like those which may have taken place as any others which never took person at all are ever likely to be. |9|+Ahahn!+|9|
{f10, 88}

About that original hen. |9|+Ahahn!+|9| Midwinter was in the offing when an iceclad shiverer, merest of bantlings, observed a cold fowl behaviourising strangely on that fatal midden or chip factory or comicalbottomed copsjute (dump for short) afterwards changed into the orangery when in the course of deeper demolition unexpectedly one bushman's holiday its limon threw up a few spontaneous fragments of orangepeel, the last remains of an outdoor meal by some unknown sunseeker or placehider illico way back in his mistridden past. What child of a strandlooper but keepy little Kevin in the despondful surrounding of such sneezing cold would ever have trouved up on a strete that was called strate a motive for future saintity by euchring the finding of the Ardagh chalice by another heily innocent and beachwalker whilst trying with pious clamour to wheedle Tipperaw
{f39, 111}
raw raw reeraw puteters out of Now Sealand in spight of the patchpurple of the massacre, a dual a duel to die to day, goddam and biggod, sticks and stanks, of most of the Jacobiters.

|99| The bird in the case was Belinda of the Dorans|9|s+, aº more than quinquegintarian,s+|9| and what she was scratching at at the hour of klokking twelve looked for all this world like a goodishsized sheet of letterpaper originating from Boston (Mass.) of the last of the first to Dear whom it proceeded to mention Maggy well & allathome's health well only the hate turned the milk on the van Houtens and the general's elections with a |9lovely lovely9| face of some born gentleman with a beautiful present of wedding cakes for dear thank you Chriesty and with grand funferall of poor Father Michael don't forget unto life's & Muggy well how are you Maggy & hopes soon to hear well & must now close it with fondest to the |9twins |~Twins twoinnsº~|9| with four crosskisses for holy paul holey corner holipoli whollyisland pee ess from affectionate largelooking tache of tch. The stain, and that a teastain |9(the |~overcautiousness overcautelousness~| of the |~munreadscribe masterbilker~| here, as usual, signing the page away)9|, marked it off on the spout of the moment as a genuine relique of ancient Irish pleasant pottery of that lydialike languishing class known as a hurry-me-o'er-the-hazy.

Why then how?

Well, almost any |9photoist microphotoistº9| worth his chemicots will tip anyone |9asking tossingº9| him the teaser that if a negative of a horse happens to melt enough while drying, well, what you do get is, well, a positively |9grotesque distortion grotesquely distorted macromass9| of all sorts of horsehappy values and masses of meltwhile horse. Tip. Well, this freely is what must have occurred to our missive (there's a sod of a turb for you! please wisp off the grass!) unfilthed from the boucher
{f10, 89}
by the sagacity of a lookmelittle likemelong hen. Heated residence in the heart of the orangeflavoured mudmound had partly obliterated the negative to start with, causing some features palpably nearer your pecker to be swollen up most grossly while
{f39, 112}
the farther back we manage to wiggle the more we need the loan of a lens to see as much as the hen saw. Tip.

Lead, kindly fowl! They always did: ask the ages. What bird has done yesterday man may do next year, be it fly, be it moult, be it hatch, be it agreement in the nest. For her socioscientific sense is sound as a bell, sir: her volucrine automutativeness right on normalcy: she knows, she just feels she was kind of born to lay and love eggs (trust her to propagate the species and hoosh her fluffballs safe through din and danger!): lastly but mostly, in her genesic field it is all game and no gammon: she is ladylike in everything she does and plays the gentleman's part every time. Let us auspice it! Yes, before all this has time to end the golden |9age eggº9| must return with its |9vengeance vungenceº9|. Man will become dirigible, |9age agueº9| will be rejuvenated, woman with her ridiculous white burden will reach by one step sublime incubation, the manewanting human lioness with her dishorned discipular manram will lie down together publicly flank upon fleece. No, assuredly, they are not justified, those gloompourers who grouse that letters have never been quite their old selves again since that weird weekday in bleak Janiveer when, to the shock of both, Biddy Doran looked at literature.

|9And. We have her fist right against our nose. All schwants (|~she writes schwrites~|) |~is to ist~| tell the Cock's trooth aboutº him. He had to see lifeº foully (|~she writes schwrites~|). There were threeº men in him |~(schwrites)~|. Dancings (|~she writes schwrites~|) |~were was~| his only |~too ttoo~| feebles. With apple harlottes. Spissially (|~she writes schwrites~|) when they peechesº. |xYet it isº but an old story, |a|~love, life, death, hate,~|a| the tale of |~a~| Treestone |~with one Ysold~|, |a|~of~| a Mons |bheld by tentpegsb| |~& and~| his Palº |+whatholootsedº+| on the run,ºa| |aand of |~unread~|a| |~any Venis and of any Genoaman,~| what Cadman could but Badman wouldn't|~, any Genoaman against any Venis,~| and why Kate takes |~care charge~| of the waxworks.ºx|9|

Let us now, |9|~be we mikealls or nicholists,~|9| |9if whenº9| perfectly convenient, if you police, ofter you, policepolice, pardoning mein, ich |9been so free beam so fresch9|, hey?, |9drop this jiggery-pokeryº and9| talk straight turkey as |9man to man meet to mateº9| for while the ear|9|~, be we mikealls or nicholists,~|9| may sometimes be inclined to believe others the eye|9|~, whether browned or nolensed,~|9| finds it devilish hard now and again even to believe itself. Habes aures et num videbis? Habes oculos ac mannepalpabunt? Tip! Drawing nearer to take our slant at it (since after all it has met with misfortune while all underground), let us see all there may remain to be seen.

|99| One cannot help noticing that rather more than half of the lines run north-south while the others go west-east for, tiny tot though it looks alongside other incunabula, it has its cardinal points for all that. These ruled barriers along which the traced words run, march, halt, walk, stumble at doubtful points, stumble up again in comparative safety seem to have been drawn first of all in a pretty checker with lampblack and blackthorn. Such crossing is antechristian, of course, but the use of the homeborn shillelagh as an aid to calligraphy shows a distinct advance from savagery to barbarism. It is seriously believed by some that the intention may have been geodetic or, in the view of the cannier, domestic economical. But by writing thithaways end to end and turning, turning and end to end hithaways writing and with lines of litters slittering up and louds
{f10, 91}
of latters slettering down, the old semetomyplace and jupetbackagain from Ham Let Rise till Hum Lit Sleep, where in the waste is the wisdom?

|99| Another point. In addition to the original sand, pounce powder, drunkard paper or soft rag used it has acquired accretions of terricious matter whilst loitering in the past. The teatimestained terminal |9(say not the tag, mummer, or our show's a failure!)º9| is a cosy little brown study all to oneself and|9|s+, whether it be thumbprint, mademark or just a poor trait of the artless,s+|9| its importance in establishing the identities in the writer complexus (for if the hand was one the minds of active and agitated were more than so) will be best appreciated by never forgetting that both before and after the battle of the Boyne it was a habit not to sign letters
{f39, 115}
always. Tip. |9|~Yet And~| it is surely a |~meaner lesser~| ignorance to |~spell with a write a word with every~| consonant too few than to add |~two all~| too many.9| The end? Say it with missiles then and thus arabesque the page. You have your cup of scalding Souchong, your taper's waxen drop, your cat's paw, the clove or coffinnail you chewed or champed as you worded it, your lark in clear air. So why, pray, sign anything as long as every word, letter, penstroke, paperspace is a perfect signature of its own? A true friend is known much more easily, and better into the bargain, by his personal touch, habits of full or undress, movements, response to appeals for charity than by his footwear, say.

And, speaking anent Tiberias and other incestuish salacities among gerontophils, a world of warning about the tenderloined passion hinted at. Some softnosed peruser might mayhem take it up erogenously as the usual perfectly usual case of spoons, prostituta in herba plus dinky pinks deliberatively summersaulting off her bisexycle at the main entrance of curate's perpetual soutane suit with her one to see and awoh! who picks her up as gingerly as any balmbearer would to feel whereupon the virgin was most hurt and nicely asking: whyre have you been so grace a mauling and where were you chaste me child? Be who, farther potential? and so wider but we grisly old |+9psychoes Sykos+|9| who have done our unsmiling bit on 'alices|9|~, when they were yung and easily freudened,~|9| in the penumbra of the procuring room |9(andº what oracular comepression we have had, very priveetly, of course, toº apply to them!)º |~particklunread when they were joung & freidtened~|9| could (did we care to sell our feebought silence in camera) tell our very moistnostrilled one that father in such virgated contexts is not always that undemonstrative relative (often held up to our contumacy) who
{f10, 92}
settles our hashbill for us and what an innocent allabroad's adverb such as Michaelly looks like can be suggestive of under the pudendascope and, finally, what a neurasthene nympholept, endocrine-pineal typus, of inverted parentage with a prepossessing drauma present in her past and a priapic urge for congress with agnates before cognates fundamentally is feeling for under her lubricitous meiosis when she refers with liking to some feeler she fancie's face. And. Mm. We could. Yes. What need to say? 'Tis as human a little story as paper could well carry|9, theº cat, the cat's meeter, the |~meeter's~| cat's wife, the |~meeter's~| cat's wife's half better, the |~meeter's~| cat's wife's half better's meeter,º and so back |~to our horses,~| for we also know that Father Michael |~about this time ~| equals the old regime and Margaret is the social revolution |~and while~| cakes |~are mean~| the party funds and dear thank you |~is signifies~| |~nunread gunread national gratitude~|9|. But. Est modest in verbos. Let a prostitute be whoso stands before a door |9and winks or parks herself in the fornix near a makeussin wall (sinsin! sinsin!)9| and the curate one who brings strong waters |9(gingin! gingin!)|~,~| |~Add also but also,~| and dinna |~forget. That forget, that~| there is many asleeps between |~someathomes someathome's~| first |~& moreinauslands and moreinausland's~| last, thatº the beautiful presence of waiting kates will until life's |~(close it!) (!)~| be |~ever more~| than enough to make any milkmike |~of lively features~|,º in the tonguageº of sweet tarts,º punch hell's hate into his twin nicky,º and that|~,~| Maggy's tea|~,~| or your Majestyº, if |~any boost him heard as a boost from a~| born gentleman |~be found heathen by his privates and hopes to hear soon fondest from~|9|. For if the iridated lingo gasped between kicksheets|9, however basically English,9| were to be preached from the homosapuel mouths of wickerchurchwardens and metaphysicians in the row and advokaatoes, allvoyous, demivoyelles, languoaths, lesbiels, dentelles, gutterhowls and furtz, where would their practice be or where the human race itself were the Pythagorean sesquipedalia of the panepistemion|9, however apically Volapucky,9| grunted and gromwelled, ichabod, habakuk, opanoff, uggamyg, hapaxle, gomenon, ppppfff, over country stiles, behind slated dwellinghouses, down blind lanes or, when all fruit fails, under some sacking left on a coarse cart?

So hath been, love: tis tis: and will be: till wears and tears and
{f39, 117}
ages. Thief us the night, steal we the air, shawl thiner liefest, mine! Here, O here, insult
{f10, 93}
the fair! Traitor, bad hearer, brave! The lightning look, the birding cry, awe from the grave, everflowing on the times. Feueragusaria iordenwater; now godsun shine on menday's daughter; a good clap, a fore marriage, a bad wake, tell hell's well; such is manowife's lot of lose and win again, like he's gruen quhiskers on who's chin again, she plucketed them out but they grown in again. So what are you going to do about it? O dear!

If juness she saved! Ah ho! And if yulone he pouved! The olold stoliolum! From quiqui quinet to michemiche chelet and a jambebatiste to a brulobrulo! Since nozzy Nanette tripped palmyways with Highho Harry there's a spurtfire turf a'kind o'kindling whenoft as the souffsouff blows her peaties up and a claypot wet for thee, my Sitys, and talkatalka tell Tibbs has eve: and whathough billiousness has been billiousness during milliums of millenions and our mixed racings have been giving two hoots on three jeers for the grape, vine and brew and Pieter's in Nieuw Amsteldam and Paoli's where the poules go and rum smelt his end for him and he dined off sooth american this oldworld epistola of their weatherings and their marryings and their buryings and their natural selections has combled tumbled down to us fersch and made-at-all-hours like an auld cup on tay. As I was hottin me souser. Haha! And as you was caldin your dutchy hovel. Hoho! She tole the tail of her toon. Huhu! |9|~Ah ho!~|9|

Now while we in our wee free state may have our irremovable doubts as to the whole sense of the lot, the interpretation of any phrase in
{f39, 118}
the whole, the meaning of every word of a phrase so far deciphered out of it, however unfettered our Irish daily independence, we must vaunt no idle dubiosity as to its genuine authorship and holusbolus authoritativeness. On the face of it and to your rough mind the affair is a thing once for all done and there you are somewhere and finished in a certain time, be it a day or a year or even supposing it should eventually turn out to be a serial number of goodness gracious alone knows how many days or years. Anyhow, somehow and somewhere, before the bookflood or after her ebb, somebody mentioned by name in his telephone directory wrote it, wrote it all, wrote it all down, and there you are,
{f10, 94}
full stop. O, undoubtedly yes, but one who deeper thinks will always bear in his mind that this downright there you are and there it is is only all in his eye. Why?

Because, if it goes to that, every person, place and thing anyway connected with it was moving and changing every part of the time: the travelling inkhorn (possibly pot), the hare and turtle pen and paper, the continually more and less intermisunderstanding minds of the anticollaborators, the as time went on as it will variously inflected, differently pronounced, otherwise spelled, changeably meaning vocable scriptsigns. No, it is not a miseffectual whyacinthinous riot of blots and blurs and bars and balls and hoops and wriggles and juxtaposed jottings linked by spurts of speed: it only looks as like it as damn it: and, sure, we ought really to rest thankful that we have even a written on with now dried ink scrap of paper at all to show for ourselves after all that was lost and plundered of it even to the hidmost coignings of the
{f39, 119}
earth and by all means cling to it as with drowning hands, hoping against hope all the while that things will begin to clear up a bit one way or another within the next quarrel of an hour and be hanged to them as ten to one they will too, please the pigs, as they ought to categorically as, strictly between ourselves, |9|+there is a limit to all things |aand soa|+|9| this will never do.

For who that in scrutinising marvels at those indignant whiplooplashes: those so prudently bolted or blocked rounds: the touching reminiscence of an incomplete trail or dropped final: the gossipy threadreels, a round thousand whirligig glorioles, prefaced by (alas!) now illegible airy plumeflights, all tiberiously ambiembellishing the initials majuscule of Earwicker: the meant to be baffling chrismon trilithon sign H, called Hec, which, moved contrawatchwise, represents his title in sigla as the smaller A, called alp or delta, when single, stands for or tautologically stands beside the consort: the steady monologuy of the interiors: the pardonable confusion for which some blame the cudgel and more blame the soot but unthanks to which the pees with their caps awry are puite as often as not
{f39, 120}
taken for pews with their tails in their mouths, thence your Pristopher Polumbos, hence our Kat Kresbyterians: the curt witty wotty dashes never quite just right at the truth letter: the sudden spluttered petulance of some capjtaljsed mJddle: a word as cunningly hidden in its maze of confused drapery as a fieldmouse in a nest of coloured ribbons: that absurdly bullsfooted bee declaring with an even plainer dummpshow than does the mute commoner with us how hard a thing it is to mpe mporn a gentlerman: and look at this prepronominal funferal, engraved and retouched and edgewiped and puddenpadded, very like a whale's egg farced with pemmican, as were it sentenced to be nuzzled over a full trillion times for ever and a night till his noddle sink or swim by that ideal reader suffering from an ideal insomnia: all those red raddled obeli cayennepeppercast over the text calling unnecessary attention to errors, omissions, repetitions and misalignments: that (probably local or personal) variant maggers for the more generally accepted majesty which is but a trifle and yet may quietly amuse: those superciliouslooking Greek ees awkwardlike perched there and here out of date like sick owls hawked back to Athens: and the geegees too, jesuistically formed at first but afterwards genuflected aggrily toewards the occident: the Ostrogothic kakography affected for certain phrases of Etruscan stabletalk and, in short, the learning betrayed at almost every line's end: the headstrength (at least eleven men of thirtytwo palfrycraft) revealed by a constant labour to make a ghimel pass through the eye of an iota: this, for instance, utterly unexpected sinistrogyric return to one peculiar sore point in the past: those throneopen doubleyous (of an early muddy terranean origin whether man chooses to damn them agglutinatively loo — too — blue — face — ache or illvoodawpeehole or, kants koorts, topplefouls) seated with such floprightdown determination and reminding uus ineluctably of nature at her naturalest while that fretful fidget eff (the hornful digamma of your bornabarbar, rarely heard now save when falling from the unfashionable lipsus of some hetarosexual but used always in two boldfaced print types — one of
{f10, 96}
them as wrongheaded as
{f39, 121}
his Claudian brother, is it worth while interrupting to say? — throughout the papyrus by our copyist as the revise mark) stalks all over the page, broods, b, sensationseeking an idea, amid the verbiage, gaunt, stands dejectedly in the diapered window margin with its basque of bayleaves all aflutter about its forksfrogs, paces with a frown, jerking to and fro, flinging phrases here, there, or returns, inhibited, with some half-halted suggestion, a, dragging its shoestring: the curious warning sign before our protoparent's ipsissima verba (a very pure nondescript, by the way, sometimes a palmtailed otter, more often the arbutus fruitflowerleaf of the cainapple) which paleographers call a leak in the thatch or the Aranman ingperwhis through the hole of his hat, indicating that the words which follow may be taken in any order desired: those haughtypitched disdotted aitches easily of the rariest inasdroll as most of the jaywalking eyes we do plough into halve as pipless as threadworms: the innocent exhibitionism of those frank yet capricious underlinings: that strange exotic serpentine, since so properly banished from our scripture (about as freakwind a wetterhand now as to see a rightheaded ladywhite don a corkhorse), which, ever longer and of more morosity, seems to uncoil so spirally in its invincible insolence and swell lacertinelazily before our eyes under pressure of the writer's hand: the ungainly musicianlessness so painted in sculpting selfsounder ah ha as blackartful as a podatus and dumbfounder oh ho oaproariose as ten canons in skelterfugue: the studious omission of year number and era name from the date, the one and only time when the writer seems at least to have grasped the beauty of restraint: the lubricitous conjugation of the last with the first: the gipsy mating of a grand stylish gravedigging with secondbest buns (an interpolation: these munchables occur only in the Bootherbrowth family of MSS, Bb = Cod iv, Pap ii, Brek xi, Lun iii, Dinn xvii, Sup xxx, Fullup MDCXC: the scholiast has hungrily misheard a deadman's toller as a muffinbell): the four shortened
{f39, 122}
ampersands under which we can glypse at and feel for ourselves across all those rushyears the warm soft short pants of the quickscribbler: the vocative lapse from which it begins and the accusative hole in which it ends itself: the aphasia of that heroic agony of recalling a once loved number leading slip by slipper to a general amnesia of misnomering one's own: next those ars — rrrr! — those ars all bellical, the highpriest's hieroglyph of kettletom and oddsbones, wrasted redhandedly from our hallowed rubric prayer for truce with booty, O'Remus pro Romulo, and rudely from the fane's pinnacle tossed down by porter to within an
{f10, 97}
aim's ace of their quatrain of rubijets among Those Who arse without the Temple nor since Roe's Distillery burn'd have quaff'd Night's firefill'd Cup But jig jog jug as Day the Dicebox Throws, whang, loyal six I lead, out wi' yer hearts' bluid, blast ye, and there she's for you, sir, whang her, the fine ooman, rouge to her lobster locks, the rossy, whang, God and O'Mara has it with his ruddy old Villain Rufus, wait, whang, God and you're another he hasn't for there's my spoil five of spuds's trumps, whang, whack on his pigsking's kisser for him, K.M. O'Mara where are you!: then (coming over to the left aisle corner down) the cruciform postscript from which three basia or shorter and smaller oscula have been overcarefully scraped away, plainly inspiring the tenebrous τunc page of the Book of Kells (and then it need not be lost sight of that there are exactly three squads of candidates for the |9crux crucian rose9| awaiting their turn in the marginal panels of Columkiller, chugged in their three ballotboxes, then set apart for such hanging committees, where two was enough for anyone, starting with old Matthew himself, as he with great distinction said then just as since then people speaking have fallen into the custom, when speaking to a person, of saying two is company when the third person is the person darkly spoken of, and then that last labiolingual basium might be read as a suavium if whoever the embracer then was wrote with a tongue in his — or perhaps her — cheek as the case may have been then): and the fatal droopadwindle slope of the blamed scrawl, a sure sign of imperfectible moral blindness: the toomuchness, the fartoomanyness
{f39, 123}
of all them fourlegged ems — and why spell dear god with a big thick dhee (why, O why, O why?) — the cut and dry aks and wise form of the semifinal: and, eighteenthly or twentyfourthly, but at least, thank Maurice, lastly when all is zed and done, the penelopean patience of its last paraphe, a colophon of no fewer than seven hundred and thirtytwo strokes tailed by a leaping lasso — who thus at all this marvelling but will press on hotly to see the vaulting feminine libido of those interbranching ogham sex upandinsweeps sternly controlled and easily repersuaded by the uniform matteroffactness of a meandering male fist?

Duff-Muggli, who now may be quoted by very kind arrangement, first called this kind of paddygoeasy partnership the ulykkean or tetrachiric-quadrumane or ducks and drakes perplex (v. Some Forestallings over that Studium of Sexophonologistic Schizophrenesis, vol. XXIV pp. 2-555) after the wellinformed observation, made miles apart from the Master by Tung-Toyd (cf. Later Frustrations amengst the Neomugglian
{f10, 98}
Teachings abaft the Semiunconscience, passim), that in the case of the littleknown periplic bestteller popularly associated with the names of the wretched mariner a Punic admiralty report had been cleverly capsized and saucily republished as a dodecanesian baedeker of the every-tale-a-treat-in-itself variety which could hope satisfactorily to tickle me gander as game as your goose.

The unmistaken identity of the persons in the Tiberiast duplex came to light in the most devious of ways. The original document was in what is known as Hanno O'Nonhanno's unbrookable script, that is to say it showed no signs of punctuation of any sort. Yet on holding the verso against a lit rush it responded most remarkably to the silent query of our world's oldest light and its recto let out the piquant
{f39, 124}
fact that it was but pierced butnot punctured (in the university sense of the term) by numerous stabs and foliated gashes made by a pronged instrument. These paper wounds, four in type, were gradually and correctly understood to mean stop, please stop, do please stop, and O do please stop respectively and, following up their one true clue, the circumflexuous wall of a singleminded men's asylum, accentuated by bi tso fb rok engl a ssan dspl itch ina — Yard inquiries pointed out → that they d bîn “provòked” by D fork, f grave Brofèssor; th é's Brèak — fast — table; ; acùtely profèššionally piquéd, to = introdụ̀çe nòtn f time [pòn plāñe (?) sụ̀’’rfaiç’e’] by pụ̀nct! ingh les (sic) in iSpåce?! Deeply religious by nature and position, and warmly attached to Thee, smearbread and better and Him and newlaidills, it was rightly suspected that such ire could not have been visited by him, Brotfressor Prenderguest, even underwittingly, upon the ancestral pneuma of one whom, with rheuma, he venerated shamelessly at least once a week at Cockspur Common as his apple in his eye and her first boy's best friend and, though plain English for a married lady misled heaps by the way, yet when some peerer or peeress detected that the fourleaved shamrock or quadrifoil jab was more recurrent wherever the script was clear and the term terse and that these two were the selfsame spots naturally selected for her perforations by Dame Partlet on her dungheap thinkers all put grown in waterunspillfull Pratiland only and a playful fowl and musical me by not you in any case, two and two together, and a sigh for shyme separated modest mouths. So be it. And it was. Though not yet had the sailor sipped that
{f10, 99}
sup nor the humphar foamed to the fill.

|99| Small need after that for quizzing your weekenders with: he shoots off in a hiss, muddles up in a mussmass and his whole's a dismantled noondrunkard's son. May be growing a moustache, did you say? And uses noclass billiardhalls? Not Hans the Curier though had he had have only had some little laughings and some less of cheeks and were he not so warried by his bulb of persecussion he could have, ay, and would have, as true as Essex bridge. And not Gopheph-go-gossip, I declare to man! Noe! To all's much relief one's half hypothesis of that jabberjaw ape amok the showering jestnuts of Bruisanose was hotly dropped and his room taken up by that odious and still today insufficiently malestimated notesnatcher, Shem |9(kak, pfooi, bosh and fiety, much earny, Gus, |aper tin poteena|? Sez you!)º9| the Penman.