Difference between revisions of "Page 255"

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  [[shader of our leaves]].
 
  [[shader of our leaves]].
 
     Attach him! Hold!  
 
     Attach him! Hold!  
     Yet stir thee, to clay, Tamor!  
+
     [[Yet stir thee, to clay, Tamor!]]
 
     Why wilt thou erewaken him from his earth, O summonor-  
 
     Why wilt thou erewaken him from his earth, O summonor-  
 
  other: he is weatherbitten from the dusts of ages? The hour of his
 
  other: he is weatherbitten from the dusts of ages? The hour of his

Revision as of 07:11, 20 April 2013

TOC

Page 254 Page 256

name is on the hero, Capellisato, shoehanded slaughterer of the
shader of our leaves.
    Attach him! Hold! 
    Yet stir thee, to clay, Tamor! 
    Why wilt thou erewaken him from his earth, O summonor- 
other: he is weatherbitten from the dusts of ages? The hour of his
closing hies to hand; the tocsin that shall claxonise his ware-
abouts. If one who remembered his webgoods and tealofts were
to ask of a hooper for whose it was the storks were quitting
Aquileyria, this trundler would not wot; if other who joined faith
when his depth charge bombed our barrel spillway were to     !
    Jehosophat, what doom is here! Rain ruth on them, sire! The 
wing of Moykill cover him! The Bulljon Bossbrute quarantee
him! Calavera, caution! Slaves to Virtue, save his Veritotem!
Bearara Tolearis, procul abeat! The Ivorbonegorer of Danamara-
ca be, his Hector Protector! Woldomar with Vasa, peel your
peeps! And try to saviourise the nights of labour to the order of
our blooding worold! While Pliny the Younger writes to Pliny
the Elder his calamolumen of contumellas, what Aulus Gellius
picked on Micmacrobius and what Vitruvius pocketed from
Cassiodorus. Like we larnt from that Buke of Lukan in Dublin's
capital, Kongdam Coombe. Even if you are the kooper of the
winkel over measure never lost a licence. Nor a duckindonche
divulse from bath and breakfast. 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, at a side
issue, pluterpromptly brought on the scene the cutletsized con-
sort, foundling filly of fortyshilling fostertailor and shipman's
shopahoyden, 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 hap-
piness and nicely nine round her shoed for slender.