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[[Link title]][[Link title]][[TOC]] [[Page 485]] [[Page 487]] ponnippers! Halt there sob story to your lambdad's tale! Are you roman cawthrick 432? &mdash;<I> Quadrigue my yoke.</I> <I> Triple my tryst. </I> <I> Tandem my sire</I>. &mdash; History as her is harped. Too the toone your owldfrow lied of. Tantris, [[hattrick]], tryst and parting, by vowelglide! I feel your thrilljoy mouths overtspeaking, O dragoman, hands under- studium. [[Plunger words what paddle verbed]]. [[Mere man]]'s mime: God has jest. The [[old order changeth]] and lasts like the first. Every [[third man has a chink in his conscience]] and every other [[woman has a jape]] in her mind. Now, fix on the little fellow in my eye, [[Minucius Mandrake]], and follow my little psychosinology, poor armer in slingslang. Now I, the lord of Tuttu, am placing that inital T square of burial jade upright to your temple a moment. Do you see anything, templar? &mdash; I see a blackfrinch pliestrycook . . . who is carrying on his brainpan . . . a cathedral of lovejelly for his . . . <I>Tiens,</I> how he is like somebodies! &mdash; Pious, a pious person. What sound of tistress isoles my ear? I horizont the same, this serpe with ramshead, and lay it lightly to your lip a little. What do you feel, liplove? isisglass . . . with gold hair to the bed . . . and white arms to the twinklers . . . O la la! &mdash; Purely, in a pure manner. O, sey but [[swift]] and still a vain essaying! Trothed today, trenned tomorrow. I invert the initial of your tripartite and sign it [[sternly]], and adze to girdle. on your breast. What do you hear, breastplate? &mdash; I ahear of a hopper behidin the door slappin his feet in a pool of bran. &mdash; Bellax, acting like a bellax. And so the triptych vision passes. Out of a hillside into a hillside. Fairshee fading. Again am I deliciated by the picaresqueness of your irmages. Now, the oneir urge iterimpellant, I feel called upon to ask did it ever occur to you, <I>qua </I>you, prior to this, by a stretch of

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