The Mime

Revised pages of The Mime (May 1934), late 1937, II.1§6 draft level 7, 7+

MS British Library 47477 175-184; 247-263 Draft details

Postreintroducing Jeremy, the flowing
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taal that brooks no brooking runs on to say how, as it was mutualiter foretold of him
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by a timekiller to his spacemaker, velos ambos and arubyat knychts, with their tales within wheels and stucks between spokes, on the hike from Elmstree to Stene and back, running awage with the use of reason (sics) and ramming amok at the brake of his voice (secs), his lasterhalft was set for getting the besterwhole of his yougendtougend, for control number thrice was operating the subliminal of his invaded personality. He nobit smorfi endgo poltri and let all the tondo gang bola del ruffo. Baito no know him mor. Eat larto altruis with most perfect stranger.

Boo, you're through!

Hoo, I'm true?

Men, teacan a tea simmering, homo mavrone kerry O?

Teapotty, teapotty.

He wept indeiterum. With such a tooth he seemed to love his wee tart when a buy. Highly momourning, he see thee before him. Melained from nape to kneecap though vied from her girders up. Holy Santalto, cursing saint, sight most deletious! An they bare falls witless against thee, how slight becomes a hidden wound! |7Soldwoter he wash him all time bigfeller bruisy place blong him. He no want missies blong all boy other look bruisy place blong him. Hence.7| It will paineth him in that where of him whence he had loseth his once for every, ever though mode grow moramor maenneritsch and the Tarara boom decay. Immaculacy, give but to drink to his shirt and all frohlined skirtaskortas must to change her tunics. So warred he from first to last forebanned and, betweenly a smuggler for lifer. Lift the blank, ve veared as hell! Split the hvide and aye seize heaven! He knows for he's seen it in black and white through his eyetrompit, trained upon jenny's and all that sort of thing, which is dandymount to a clearobscure. Prettimaid tints may try their taunts: apple, bacchante, custard, dove, eskimo, feldgrau, ginger, hematite, isinglass, jet, kipper, lucile, mimosa, nut, oysterette, prune,
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quasimodo, royal, sago, tango, umber, vanilla, wisteria, xray, yesplease, zaza, philomel, theerose. What are they all by? Shee.

If you nude her in her prime, make sure you find her complementary or, by Angus Dagdasson and all his picciapiccions, on your very first occasion she'll prick you where you're proudest with her unsatt speagle eye. Look sharp, she's signalling again from among the asters. Turn again, wistfultone, lode mere of Doubtlynn! Arise, Land-under-Wave! Clap your lingua to your pallet, drop your jowl with a jolt, tambourine until your breath slides, pet a pout and it's out. Have you got me, Allysloper?
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My top it was brought Achill's low, my middle I ope before you, my bottom's a valser if ever there valsed and my whole the flower that stars the day and is solly well worth your pilger's fahrt. Where there's a hitch, a head of things, let henker's halter hang the halunkenend. For I see through your weapon. That cry's not Cucullus. And his eyelids are painted. If my tutor here is cut out for an oldeborre I'm Flo, shy of peeps, you know. But when he beetles backwards, ain't I fly? Pull the bough, peep, to see how we sleep. Bee Peep! Peepette! Would you like that lump of a tongue for lungeon, or this Turkey's delighter, hys hyphen mys? My bellyswain's a twalf whulehrusspower though he knows as much how to man a wife as Dunckle Dalton of matching wools. Shake hands through the thicketloch. O sweet swan water, my other is mouthfilled. This kissing wold's full of killing fellows kneeling voyantly to the cope of heaven. And somebody's coming, I feel for a fect. When you'll next have the mind to retire to be wicked this is as dainty a fine way as any. Underwoods spells bushment's business. So if you sprig poplar you're bound to twig this. 'Twas my lord of Glendalough benedixed the gape for me that day at Long Entry, commanding the approaches to my intimest innermosts. Look how they're browthered. Six thirteens at Blanche de Blanche's of 3 Behind Street and 2 Turnagain Lane. Awabeg is my callby, Magnus here's my max, Wonder One's my cipher and Seven Sisters is my nighbrood. Radouga, Rab, will ye na pick them in their pinks of panties. You can colour up till you're
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prawn while I go squirt with any cockle. But if this could see with its backsight he'd be the grand old greeneyed lobster. He's my first viewmarc since Valentine. Wink's the winning word.


In the house of breathings lies that word, all fairness. The walls are of rubinen and the glittergates of elfinbone. The roof herof is of massicious jasper and a canopy of Tyrian awning rises and still descends to it. A grapecluster of lights hangs therebeneath and all the house is filled with the breathings of her fairness, the fairness of fondance and the fairness of milk and rhubarb and the fairness of roasted meats and uniomargrits and the fairness of promise with consonantia and avowals. Their lies her word, you reder. The height herup exalts it and the lowness herdown abaseth it. It vibroverberates upon the tegmen and prosplodes from the pomoeria. A window, a hedge, a prong, a hand, an eye, a sign, a head and keep your other augur on her paypaypay. And you have it, old Sem, pat as ah be seated. And Sunny, my gander, he's coming to land her. Oh backed von dem zug! Make weg for their tug!
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With a ring ding dong they raise clasped hands and advance more steps to retire to the saum. Curtsey one, curtsey two, with arms akimbo, devotees.


All sing:

— I rose up one maypole morning and saw in my glass how nobody loves me but you. Ugh! Ugh!

All point in the shem direction as if to shun.

— My name is Mishamisha but call me Toffeytough. I mean Muttonchough. It was her, boy the boy, that was loft in the larch. Ogh! Ogh!

Her reverence.

All laugh.

They pretend to helf while they simply schutet at him sauce to make hims prich. And ith ith noth cricquette, Sally Lums. Not by ever such a lot. Twentynines of bloomers gegging een man
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arose. Avis was there and trilled her about it. She's her sex, for certain. So to celebrate the occasion:

— Willst thou rossy banders havind?

He simules to be tight in ribbings round his rumpffkorpff.

— Are you Swarthants that's hits on a shorn stile?

He makes semblant to be swiping their chimbleys.

— Can you ajew, ajew, fro' Scheidan?

He finges to be cuttling up with a pair of sissers and to be buythings off their maidens ends pitting their heads into their facepails.

Spickspuck! Spoken.

So now be hushy, little pukers! Side here roohish, cleany fuglers! Grandicellies, all stay zitty! Adultereux, rest as befour! When ye coif tantoncle's hat then'll be largely tempts for that. Yet's the time for being now, now, now.

For a burning would is come to dance inane. Glamours hath moidered's lieb and herfore Coldours must leap no more. Lackbreath must leap no more.

Lel lols for libelman libling his lore. Lolo Lolo, liebermann, you loved to be leaving Libnius. Lift your right to your Liber Lord. Link your left to your lass of liberty. Lala Lala, Leapermann, your lep's but a loop to lee.

A fork of hazel o'er the field invokes the verveine virgins' ode. If you cross this rood as you roamed the rand I'm blessed but you'd feel him a blasting rod. Behind me, free from evil smells! Perdition stinks before us.

Agatharept they fleurely to Nebnos will and Rofocale. Twice is he gone to quest of her, thrice is she now to him. So see we so as seed we sow. And
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their prunkqueen kilt her kirtles up. And set out. And her troupe came heeling, O. For ever they scent where air she went. While all the fauns' flares widens wild to see a florals' school.

Led by Lignifer, in four hops of the happiest, ac beth cac duff, the few fly the farbetween! Attilad! Attattilad! Get up, Goth's scourge on you! There's a visitation in your impluvium. Hun! Hun!

He standth theirs mum in his natural, oblious of his very proprium, the wont to be wanton maid a will to be wise. Thrust from the light, he spoors loves from her heats. He blinkth. But his wrath's the higher where those wreathe charity. For all of these have been thisworlders. Time liquescing into state, pitiless age grows angelhood. Though, as he stehs, most anysing may befallhim, from a song of a witch to the totter of Blackarts, given a fammished devil, a young sourceress and (eternal conjunction) the permission of overalls with the cuperation of nightshirt. If he spice east he seethes in sooth and if he pierce north he wilts in the waist. And what wonder with the murkery viceheid in the shade? The specks on his lapspan are his foul deed thoughts, wishmarks of mad imogenation. Take they off, sah! Make thee off, soh! But Funnylegs are leanly. A bimbamb bum! They vain would convert him to be hers in the word. Gush, they wooed! Gash, they're fair ripecherry!

As for she could shake him. An oaf, no more. Still, he'd be good tutor two in his big armschair lerningstoel, and she be waxen in his hands. Turning up and fingering over the most dantellising peaches in the lingerous longerous book of the dark. Look at this passage about Galileotto. I know it is difficult but when your goche I go dead. Turn now to this patch upon Smacchiavelluti. Soot allours, he's sure to spot it. 'Twas ever so in monitorology since Headmaster Adam became Eva Harte's toucher, in omnibus moribus et temporibus, with man's mischief in his mind whilst her pupils swimmed too heavenlies, let his be exaspirated, letters be blowed, I is a femaline person. O, of provocative gender. U unisingular case.

Which is why trumpers are mixed up in duels and here's B. Rohan meets N. Ohlan for the prize of a thou.

As he was
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queering his shoolthers. So was I. And as I was cleansing my fausties. So was he. And as way ware puffin our blowbags. Sou wous you.
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Come, thrust! Go, parry! |7Dvoinabrathran, dare!7|

— Now may Saint Mowy of the Pleasant Grin be your everglass and evenprospect!

— Feeling dank.

Exchange, reverse.

— And may Saint Jerome of the Harlot's Curse make family three of you which is much abedder!

— Grassy ass ago.

|7⇒ And each was wrought with his other. And his continence fullº.7|

The bivetellines, |7her crown pretenders,7| obscindgemeinded bickerers, varying directly, uruseye each oxesother, superfetated (never cleaner of lamps frowned fiercelier on anointer of hinges), while their treegrown girls, king's game, if he deign so, are in such transfusion just to know |7twigst timidy twomeys, for gracious sake,7| who is artthoudux from whose heterotropic, the sleepy or the glouch, for, shyly bawn and showly nursured exceedingly nice girls can strike exceedingly hard times unless so richtly chosen's by (what though of riches he have none and hope dashes hope on his heart's horizon) to gar their great moments greater. The thing is he must be put strait on the spot, no mere waterstichystuff in a selfmade world that you can't believe a word he's written in|7, not for pie,7| but one's only owned by natural rejection. Charley, you're my darwing. So sing they sequent the assent of man. Till they go round if they go roundagain before breakparts and all dismissed. They keep. Step keep. Step. Stop.

|7Where Whoº is Fleur? Where is Ange? Or Gardoun?7|

Creedless |7crownless croonless7| hangs his haughty. He does not know how his grandson's grandson's grandson's grandson will stammer up
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in Peruvian for in the ersebest idiom I have done it equals I so shall do. He dares not think why the grandmother of the grandmother of his grandmother's grandmother coughed Russky with suchky husky accent since in the mouthart of the slove look at me now means I once was otherwise. Nor that the mappamund has been changing pattern as youth play moves from street to street since time was and races were and wise ants hoarded and sauterelles were spendthrifts|7, no thing making newthing |awhatshowever wealthshowevera| for |aaa| silly old Sol, |aerely-to-bedder healthytobeddera| and |alateriser latewisera|7|. Nor that the turtling of a London's alderman is ladled out by the waggerful to the regionals of pigmyland. His part should say in honour bound: So help me symethew, sammarc, selluc and singin, I will stick to you, by gum, no matter what and in case of the event coming
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off beforehand, even so you was to release me for the sake of the other cheap girl's baby's name, plaster me but I will pluckily well pull on the buckskin gloves because it is the month of brumes. But Noodynaady's actual ingrate tootle is of come into the garner, mauve, and thy nice are stores of morning and buy me a bunch of iodines.

Evidentament he has failed as tiercely as the deuce before. For she is wearing none of the three. And quite as patently there is a sort of a hole in the ballet through which the rest fell out. For to explain why the residue is, was, or will not be, according to the eighth axiom, proceeded with, namely, |7|aas sincea| ever apart that gossan |atwo duad|b, so sure as their's a patch on a pomelo,ºb|a| this yam ham in never live could,º7| the shifting about of the lasses and the tug-of-love of the lads ending with a great deal of rough merriment, hoots, screams, scarf drill, cap fecking, ejaculations of |7urine aurinos7|, reechoable mirthpeals and general thumb-to-nosery |7(Myama's a yaung yaung country)º7|, one must reckon with the sudden and gigantesquesque appearance unwithstandable as a general election in Barnado's bearskin amongst the brawlmiddle of this village childergarten of the largely longsuffering laird of Lucanhof.

But, god of all machineries and tomestone of Barnstaple, by mortisection or vivisuture, splitten up or recompounded, how accountibus for him?
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Was he pitssched, as certain have dognosed of him, against our seawall by Rurie, Thoath and Cleaver, Orion of the Orgiasts, Meereschal MacMuhun, the product of the extremes giving quotidients to our means, or so yclept, as might occur to anyone, from Clio's clippings, for ancients link with presents as the human chain extends, have done, do and will again while monks sell yew to archers or the water of the livvying goes the way of all fish from Sara's drawhead, the corralsome, to Isaac's, the lauphed butt one, with her minnelisp extorreor to his moanolothe inturned?

And he! Who? Old Joe, the Java Jane, older even than Adam Costollo. The mar of murmury mermers to the mind's ear, uncharted rock, evasive weed. Only the caul knows his thousandfirst name, Hocus Crocus, Esquilocus,
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Finnfinn the Faineant. Doth all this two way teleopic come aft to you, puritysnooper, as eft it were longtimes ofter when Potollomuck Sotyr or Sourdanapplous the Lollapaloosa put back Omega with the beths of alpability? The charges are, you will remember; the chances are, you won't. We are recurrently meeting em in cycloannalism, from space to space, time after time, in various phrases of scripture as in various poses of sepulture. Greets Godd, Groceries! How feel full foes in furrinarr? Merodach! Defend the King! Hoet of the rough throat attack but whose say is soft and whose ee has a cute angle, he whose hut is a hissarlik even as her hennin's aspire. For now at last is Longabed going to be gone to, that more than man, shoehanded slaughterer of the shader of our leaves.

Attach him! Hold!

Why wilt thou erewaken him from his earth, O summonorother? He is weatherbitten from the dusts of ages. The hour of his closing hies to hand; the tocsin that shall claxonise his wareabouts. If one who remembered his webgoods and tealofts were to ask of any hooper for whose it was the storks were quitting Aquileyria, this trundler would not wot; if other who found faith when his depth charge bombed our barrel slipway were to —!

Jehosophat, what doom is here! Rain ruth on them, sire. Even if you are the kooper of the winkel itself, over measure never lost a licence. And for the honour of Alcohol drop that you-know-what-I've-come-about-I-saw-your-act air. Punch may be pottleproud but his Judy's a wife's wit better.

For the producer (Mr John Baptister Vickar) caused a deep abuliousness to descend upon the Father of Truants and, |7as at7| a side issue, pluterpromptly brought on the scene the cutletsized consort, |7foundling filly of fortyshilling
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fostertailor and shipman's shopahoyden,
7| weighing ten pebble ten, scaling five footsy five, and spanning thirtyseven inchettes round the good companions, twentynine ditties round the wishful waistress, thirtyseven alsos round the answer to everything, twentythree of the same round each of the quis separabits, fourteen round the beginning of happiness and nicely nine round her shoed for slender.
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And eher you could pray mercy to goodness or help |7to the rescue with your hokey or mehokeypoo7|, Gallus's hen has collared her pullets. |7That's where they have wreglias for.7| Their bone of contention, flesh to their thorns, prest as Prestissima, makes off in a thinkling |7(and not one hen only nor two hens |aneither naytherºa| but every blessed brigid came aclucking and aclacking)7|, while|7, a rum a rum, the ram of all harns,7| Bier, Wijn and Spirituosen for consumption on the premises, advokaat withouten pleaders, |7Mas marrit, Pas poulit, Ras ruddist of all, though flamifestouned from galantifloures,7| is hued and cried of each's colour.

Home all go. |7Halome. For here the holy language.7|

'Tis goed. Het best.

For they are now tearing, that is, teartoretorning. Too soon are coming taskbooks and goody, hominy bread and bible bee |7withº jaggery-you jaggery-yo andº juju-jaw7|, Fine's French phrases from the Grandmère des Grammaires |7and bothered parsenaps from the Four Massores, |aMattatias, Marusias, Lucanias, Jokinias,ºa|7| and what happened to our eleven in thirtytwo |7antepostdating the Valgur Eire7| and why is limbo where is he and what are the sound waves saying that ceased ere they all wayed wrong and Amnist anguished axes Collis |7and where fish ngaman fetched the mongafesh from and whatfor paddybird notplease rancoon and why was Sindat sitthing on hisº sitbom like a |~saildior saildior,~| |awith what the doc did in the |~doil doil,~|a|7| not to mention define the hydraulics of common salt and|7, its denier crid of old provaunce,7| where G.P.O. is zentrum and D.U.T.C. are radients write down by the frequency |~7of your of the~| |acrores and scores scores and croresa| |~of your~|7| refractions the valuations |7in the pice of dinggyings7| on N.C.R. and S.C.R.

That little cloud|7, a nibulissa,7| still hangs isky. Singabed |7cries sulks7| before slumber. Light at night has an alps on his druckhouse. Thick bread and thin butter or after you with me. |7Caspi, but gueroligue stings the air. Gaylegs to riot of us! Gallooksº to to lafft.7|
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What is amaid today todo? So angelland all weeping bin that Izzy most unhappy is. Fain Essie, fie onhapje? laughs her stella's vispirine.