| making) you squandered among underlings the overload of | 1 |
| your extravagance and made a hottentot of dulpeners crawsick | 2 |
| with your crumbs? Am I not right? Yes? Yes? Yes? Holy wax | 3 |
| and holifer! Don't tell me, Leon of the fold, that you are not a | 4 |
| loanshark! Look up, old sooty, be advised by mux and take your | 5 |
| medicine. The Good Doctor mulled it. Mix it twice before re- | 6 |
| pastures and powder three times a day. It does marvels for your | 7 |
| gripins and it's fine for the solitary worm. | 8 |
| Let me finish! Just a little judas tonic, my ghem of all jokes, to | 9 |
| make you go green in the gazer. Do you hear what I'm seeing, | 10 |
| hammet? And remember that golden silence gives consent, Mr | 11 |
| Anklegazer! Cease to be civil, learn to say nay! Whisht! Come | 12 |
| here, Herr Studiosus, till I tell you a wig in your ear. We'll do a | 13 |
| whisper drive, for if the barishnyas got a twitter of it they'd tell | 14 |
| the housetops and then all Cadbury would go crackers. Look! | 15 |
| Do you see your dial in the rockingglass? Look well ! Bend down | 16 |
| a stigmy till I! It's secret! Iggri, I say, the booseleers! I had it | 17 |
| from Lamppost Shawe. And he had it from the Mullah. And Mull | 18 |
| took it from a Bluecoat schooler. And Gay Socks jot it from | 19 |
| Potapheu's wife. And Rantipoll tipped the wink from old Mrs | 20 |
| Tinbullet. And as for she was confussed by pro-Brother Thaco- | 21 |
| licus. And the good brother feels he would need to defecate | 22 |
| you. And the Flimsy Follettes are simply beside each other. | 23 |
| And Kelly, Kenny and Keogh are up up and in arms. That a | 24 |
| cross may crush me if I refuse to believe in it. That I may rock | 25 |
| anchor through the ages if I hope it's not true. That the host | 26 |
| may choke me if I beneighbour you without my charity! Sh! | 27 |
| Shem, you are. Sh! You are mad! | 28 |
| He points the deathbone and the quick are still. Insomnia, | 29 |
| somnia somniorum. Awmawm. | 30 |
| MERCIUS (of hisself): Domine vopiscus! My fault, his fault, | 31 |
| a kingship through a fault! Pariah, cannibal Cain, I who oathily | 32 |
| forswore the womb that bore you and the paps I sometimes | 33 |
| sucked, you who ever since have been one black mass of jigs and | 34 |
| jimjams, haunted by a convulsionary sense of not having been | 35 |
| or being all that I might have been or you meant to becoming, | 36 |