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 I helped him to in my [[princeps edition]] which is all so munch
 to the cud) are mutuearly polarised the incompatabilily of any
 delusional acting as ambivalent to the fixation of his pivotism.
 Positing, as above, too males pooles, the one the [[pictor]] of the
 other and the [[omber]] the <i>[[Skotia]] </i>of the one, and looking want-
 ingly around our undistributed middle between males we feel
 we must waistfully woent a female to focus and on this stage
 there pleasantly appears the cowrymaid M. whom we shall
 often meet below who introduces herself upon us at some precise
 hour which we shall again agree to call [[absolute zero]] or the
 babbling pumpt of platinism. And so like that former son
 of a kish who went up and out to found his farmer's ashes we
 come down home gently on our own turnedabout asses to meet
 Margareen.
      We now romp through a period of pure lyricism of [[shamebred|shame]]- 
 [[shamebred|bred]] music (technologically, let me say, the appetising entry of
 this subject on a fool chest of vialds is plumply pudding the carp
 before doevre hors) evidenced by such [[words in distress]] as <I>I</I>
 <I>cream for thee, Sweet Margareen,</I> and the more hopeful <I>O Mar-</I>
 <I>gareena! O Margareena! Still in the bowl is left a lump of gold!</I>
 (Correspondents, by the way, will keep on asking me what is the
 correct garnish to serve drisheens with. Tansy Sauce. Enough).
 The pawnbreaking pathos of the first of these shoddy pieces
 reveals it as a [[Caseous]] effort. [[Burrus]]'s bit is often used for a toast.
 Criniculture can tell us very precisely indeed how and why this
 particular streak of yellow silver first appeared on (not in) the
 bowel, that is to see, the human head, bald, black, bronze, brown,
 [[brindled]], [[betteraved]] or [[blanchemanged]] where it might be use-
 fully compared with an [[earwig on a fullbottom]]. I am offering
 this to Signorina Cuticura and I intend to take it up and bring it
 under the nosetice of Herr Harlene by way of diverting his
 attentions. Of course the unskilled singer continues to pervert
 our wiser ears by subordinating the space-element, that is to
 sing, the <i>aria</I>, to the time-factor, which ought to be killed, <I>ill</I>
 <I>tempor.</I> I should advise any unborn singer who may still be
 among my heeders to forget her temporal diaphragm at home