^RM1 As we there are where are we are we here haltagain. By recourse, of course, recoursing from Tomtittot to Teetootomtotalitarian. Tea tea too oo.

^{RM2 LM1} Whomtil comes over. Who to caps ever. And howelse do we hook our hike to find that pint of porter place? Am shot, says the bigguard.^F1

^RM3 Whence. Quick lunch, buy our lefts, wheel, to where. ^LM2 Long Livius Lane, mid Mezzofanti Mall, diagonising Lavatery Square, up Tycho Brahe Crescent,^F2 shouldering Berkeley's Alley, querfixing Gainsborough Carfax, ^LM3 under Guido d'Arezzo's Gadeway, by New Livius Lane till where we whiled while we whithered. Old Vico Roundpoint. But fahr, be fear. And natural, simple, slavish, filial. The marriage of Montan wetting his moll, we know, like any enthewsyass cuckling a hoyden, ^F3 in her rougey
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gipsylike chinkaminx' pulshandjupeyjade and her petsybluse indecked o' voylets.^F4 When who was wist was wan. En elv, et fjaell. And the whirr of the whins humming us howe. His hume. Hencetaking tides we haply return, trumpeted by prawns and ensigned with seakale, to befinding ourself when old is said in one and maker mates with made (O my!), having conned the cones and meditated the mured and pondered the pensils and ogled the olymp and delighted in her dianaphous and cacchinated behind his culosses, afore a mosoleum, ^LM4 Length Withought Breath, of him, a chump of the evums, upshoot of picnic or stupor out of sopor, Cave of Kids or Hymanian Glattstonebury, denary, danery, donnery, domm,^F5 who, entiringly as he continues highlyfictional, ^LM5 tumulous
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under his chthonic exterior but plain Mr Tumulty ^LM6 in muftilife, in his antesipiences as in his recognisances, is (Dominic Directus) a manyfeast munificent more mob than man.

^RM4 Ain soph,^F6 this upright one, with that noughty besighedhim zeroine? To see in his horrorscup he is mehrkurios than saltz of sulphur. Terror of the noonstruck by day, cryptogam of each nightly bridable. But, to speak broken heaventalk, is he? Who is he? Whose is he? Why is he? Howmuch is he? Which is he? When is he? Where is he?^F7 How is he? And what the decans is there about him
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anyway, the decemt man? Easy, calm your haste! Approach to lead our passage!

^RM5 This bridge is upper.

Cross.

Thus come to castle.

Knock.

A password, thanks.

Yes, pearse.

Well, all be dumbed!

O really?^F9

Hoo cavedin earthwight

At furscht krach of thunder.

^LM8 When Shoo, his flutterby,

Was netted and named.^F11

Erdnacrusha, requiestress, wake em!

And let luck's puresplutterall lucy at ease!^F12

To house as wise fool ages builded.

Sow byg eat.^F13

^RM6 Staplering to tether to, steppingstone to mount by; and coach house entrance as the Boote's at Pickardstown. ^LM9 Or be these wingsets leaned to the outwalls, beastskin trophies, of booth of Baws the balsamboards?^F14 Burials be ballyhouraised! So let Bacchus e'en call! Inn inn! Inn inn! Where. The babbers
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^LM10 ply the pen. The bibbers drang the den. The papplicom, the pubblicam, he's turning tin for ten. From
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seldomers that most frequent him. That same erst crafty hakemouth which of foggy old, under the assumed name of Ignotus Loquor, harangued bellyhooting fishdrunks on their favourite stamping ground from a fathertheobalder brake.^{F15 LM11} Rolf the Ganger, Rough the Gangster, not a feature alike and the face the same. And Egyptus, the spicerobed, as Cyrus heard of him? ^LM12 And Major A. Shaw after he got the miner smellpex? And old Whiteman self, the blighty blotchy, beyond the bays, hope of Ostrogothic and Ottomanic father converters, despair of Pandemia's postwartem plastic surgeons, Hispano-Cathayan-Euxine, Castilian-Emeratic-Hebridian, Espanol-Cymric-Helleniky? But it was all so long ago. Pastimes are past times. Now let bygones be bei Gunne's. Saa, leddies, er it in this warken werden, minne boerne, and it vild need olderwise^F17 since primal made alter in garden of Idem. The tasks above are as the flasks below, saith the Emerald Canticle of Hermes. ^LM13 And all's loth and pleasestir, are we told, on excellent inkbottle authority, solarsystemised, seriol-cosmically, in a more and more almightily expanding universe under one, there is rhymeless reason to believe, original sun. Securely judges orb terrestrial.^F18 Haud certo ergo. But ^LM14 O felicitous culpability, sweet bad cess to you for an archetypt!