| all the morning since your last wetbed confession? I advise you | 1 |
| to conceal yourself, my little friend, as I have said a moment | 2 |
| ago and put your hands in my hands and have a nightslong | 3 |
| homely little confiteor about things. Let me see. It is looking | 4 |
| pretty black against you, we suggest, Sheem avick. You will | 5 |
| need all the elements in the river to clean you over it all and a | 6 |
| fortifine popespriestpower bull of attender to booth. | 7 |
| Let us pry. We thought, would and did. Cur, quicquid, ubi, | 8 |
| quando, quomodo, quoties, quibus auxiliis? You were bred, fed, | 9 |
| fostered and fattened from holy childhood up in this two easter | 10 |
| island on the piejaw of hilarious heaven and roaring the other | 11 |
| place (plunders to night of you, blunders what's left of you, flash | 12 |
| as flash can!) and now, forsooth, a nogger among the blankards | 13 |
| of this dastard century, you have become of twosome twiminds | 14 |
| forenenst gods, hidden and discovered, nay, condemned fool, | 15 |
| anarch, egoarch, hiresiarch, you have reared your disunited king- | 16 |
| dom on the vacuum of your own most intensely doubtful soul. | 17 |
| Do you hold yourself then for some god in the manger, Sheho- | 18 |
| hem, that you will neither serve not let serve, pray nor let pray? | 19 |
| And here, pay the piety, must I too nerve myself to pray for the | 20 |
| loss of selfrespect to equip me for the horrible necessity of scan- | 21 |
| dalisang (my dear sisters, are you ready?) by sloughing off my | 22 |
| hope and tremors while we all swin together in the pool of So- | 23 |
| dom? I shall shiver for my purity while they will weepbig for | 24 |
| your sins. Away with covered words, new Solemonities for old | 25 |
| Badsheetbaths! That inharmonious detail, did you name it? Cold | 26 |
| caldor! Gee! Victory! Now, opprobro of underslung pipes, | 27 |
| johnjacobs, while yet an adolescent (what do I say?), while | 28 |
| still puerile in your tubsuit with buttonlegs,you got a hand- | 29 |
| some present of a selfraising syringe and twin feeders (you know, | 30 |
| Monsieur Abgott, in your art of arts, to your cost as well as I do | 31 |
| (and don't try to hide it) the penals lots I am now poking at) and | 32 |
| the wheeze sort of was you should (if you were as bould a stroke | 33 |
| now as the curate that christened you, sonny douth-the-candle!) | 34 |
| repopulate the land of your birth and count up your progeny by | 35 |
| the hungered head and the angered thousand but you thwarted | 36 |