Text FW 020

under the ban of our infrarational senses fore the last milch-1
camel, the heartvein throbbing between his eyebrowns, has still to2
moor before the tomb of his cousin charmian where his date is3
tethered by the palm that's hers. But the horn, the drinking, the4
day of dread are not now. A bone, a pebble, a ramskin; chip them,5
chap them, cut them up allways; leave them to terracook in the6
muttheringpot: and Gutenmorg with his cromagnom charter,7
tintingfast and great primer must once for omniboss step rub-8
rickredd out of the wordpress else is there no virtue more in al-9
cohoran. For that (the rapt one warns) is what papyr is meed10
of, made of, hides and hints and misses in prints. Till ye finally11
(though not yet endlike) meet with the acquaintance of Mister12
Typus, Mistress Tope and all the little typtopies. Fillstup. So you13
need hardly spell me how every word will be bound over to carry14
three score and ten toptypsical readings throughout the book of15
Doublends Jined (may his forehead be darkened with mud who16
would sunder!) till Daleth, mahomahouma, who oped it closeth17
thereof the. Dor.18
     Cry not yet! There's many a smile to Nondum, with sytty 19
maids per man, sir, and the park's so dark by kindlelight. But20
look what you have in your handself! The movibles are scrawl-21
ing in motions, marching, all of them ago, in pitpat and zingzang22
for every busy eerie whig's a bit of a torytale to tell. One's upon23
a thyme and two's behind their lettice leap and three's among the24
strubbely beds. And the chicks picked their teeths and the domb-25
key he begay began. You can ask your ass if he believes it. And26
so cuddy me only wallops have heels. That one of a wife with27
folty barnets. For then was the age when hoops ran high. Of a28
noarch and a chopwife; of a pomme full grave and a fammy of29
levity; or of golden youths that wanted gelding; or of what the30
mischievmiss made a man do. Malmarriedad he was reverso-31
gassed by the frisque of her frasques and her prytty pyrrhique.32
Maye faye, she's la gaye this snaky woman! From that trippiery33
toe expectungpelick! Veil, volantine, valentine eyes. She's the34
very besch Winnie blows Nay on good. Flou inn, flow ann.35
Hohore! So it's sure it was her not we! But lay it easy, gentle36

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