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ponnippers! Halt there sob story to your lambdad's tale! Are
you roman cawthrick 432?
— Quadrigue my yoke.
Triple my tryst.
Tandem my sire.
— 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?
— I see a blackfrinch pliestrycook . . . who is carrying on
his brainpan . . . a cathedral of lovejelly for his . . . Tiens, how
he is like somebodies!
— 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!
— 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?
— I ahear of a hopper behidin the door slappin his feet in a
pool of bran.
— 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, qua you, prior to this, by a stretch of
