transition proofs, 4th set, June 1928, §2B draft level 9, 9'
MS British Library 47483 218-219), Buffalo VI.F.7 1-2; NLI.15/12 15-16, BL 47483 210v-211r Draft details
— MEN! Jaun responded fullchantedly to her sororal sonority, with his chalished drink now well in hand. Ever gloriously kind! And I truly am
|9'obligated eucherised to yous9'| to sacré père and maître d'autel. Well, ladies upon gentlermen and toastmaster general, health to song for Erin go dry! To stir up love's young fizz I tilt with this bridle's cup champagne, dimming douce from her peepair of hideseeks, tightsqueezed on my snowybreasted, and while my pearlies in their sparkling wiseheight are nippling her bubblets I swear (and let you swear!) by the bumper round of my poor old snaggletooth's solidbowl I ne'er will prove I'm untrue to your liking (theare!) so long as my hole |9'looks down looks. Down9'|.
So gullaby, me poor Isley! But I'm not for forgetting me innerman monophone for I'm leaving my darling proxy behind for your consolering, lost Dave the Dancekerl, a squamous runaway and a dear old man pal of mine too. |9'He will arrive incessantly in
the fraction of a |~blank loaf.~|9'| He's the mightiest penumbrella I ever flourished on
behond the shadow of a post!
Be sure and link him, me O treasauro, as often as you learn, provided there's nothing between you but a plain deal table only don't encourage him to cry lessontimes over Leperstown. Talk of wolf in a stomach, by all that's verminous! Eccolo me! Isn't Jaunstown, Ousterrike, the small place after all? I knew I smelt the garlic league! Why, bless me swits, here he its, darling Dave, like the catoninelives just in time as if he fell out of space, all draped in mufti, coming home to mourn mountains from his old continence |9'and not on one foot either or on |~2 two~| feet aether but9'| on quinquisecular cycles after his French evolution and a blindfold passage by the 4.32 with the pork's pate in his suicide paw and the gulls laughing lime on his natural skunk,
blushing like Pat's pig, begob! He's not too tom well ashamed to carry out onaglibtograbakelly in his showman's sinister the testymonicals he gave his twenty annis for, showing the three white feathers, as a home cured emigrant in Paddyouare far below on our sealevel. Bearer may leave the church, signed, Figura Porca, Lictor Magnaffica. He's the sneaking likeness of us, faith, me altar's ego in miniature and every Auxonian aimer's ace as nasal a Romeo as I am, for ever cracking quips on himself, that merry, the jeenjakes, he'd soon arise mother's roses mid bedewing tears under those wild wet lashes onto anny living girl's laftercheeks. That's his little flailing. And his impeppeppediment. He has novel ideas, I know, and he's a jarry queer fish betimes, I grant you, and cantanberous, the poisoner of his word, but, lice and all and semicoloured stainedglasses, I'm enormously full of that foreigner, I'll say I am! Got by the one goat, suckled by the same nanna, one twitch, one nature makes us oldworld kin. We're as thick and thin now as two tubular jawballs. I hate him about his patent henesy, blasph it, but I love him. I love his |9'old9'| portugal's nose. There's the nasturtium for ye now that saved manny a poor sinker from water on the grave. Isn't he after borrowing all before him, touching every distinguished Irishman he could ever distinguish before or behind from a Yourishman for the customary halp of a crown and peace? He is looking aged with his pebbled eyes, but I pass no remark. Hope he hasn't the cholera. Brayvo, senior chief! Famose! Sure there's nobody else in
touch anysides to hold a chef's candle to the darling at all for sheer dare with that prisonpotstill of Spanish breans on him like the knave of trifles! A jollytan fine demented brick and the prince of goodfilips! Dave
knows I have the highest of respect and sympathrick of annyone in my oweand smooth way for that intellectual debtor David R. Crozier. Canwyll y Cymry, the marmade's flamme! The most important man! Shervos! Ho, be the holy, someone has shaved his rough diamond skull for him as clean as Nuntius' piedish! Thunderweather, khyber schinker, escapa sansa pagar. He's the spatton spit, so he is, with his blackguarded eye and the goatsbeard in his buttinghole, of Shemuel Tulliver, me grandsourd, the old crusader, when he off with his paudeen! That was to let the crowd of Flu Flux Fans behind him see me proper. Ah, he's very thoughtful and sympatrico that way when he's not absintheminded, with his Paris adresse! He is, really. Hold hard till you'll ear him clicking his bull's bones! Some toad klakkin! You're welcome back, Wilkins, to red berries in the frost! I'm tired hairing of you. Hat yourself! Give us your dyed hand here, frother, where's your watchkeeper? I'm better pleased than ten guidneys! Faith, I'm proud of you, french davit!
You've surpassed yourself! Be introduced to yes! This is me aunt Julia Bride, dying to have you languish to scandal in her bosky old manor. You don't reckoneyes him? That's his penals. Shervorum! You haven't seen her since she stepped into her drawoffs. Don't be shoy, husbandman! Weih, what's on you, wifewoman? Up the shamewauch! She has plenty of woom in the smallclothes for the
bothsforus, nephews push! Hatch yourself well! Come on, spinister, do your stuff! Embrace her bashfully by all means at my frank incensive and tell her in your semiological agglutinative |9'yezº9'| like boyrun to sibster how Idos be asking after her. Let us be holy and evil and let her be peace on the bough. Sure, she fell in line with our tripertight photos when we were |9'stabled stablelads9'| together like the corksagain brothers, hungry and angry, in the Black Watch, me and you, shinners true, and pinchme, our tertius quiddus, that never talked or listened. Always raving how we had the wrinkles of a snailcharmer and the slits and sniffers of a fellow that fell foul of the county de Loona, and the meattrap of the first vegetarian. Take her out of poor tuppenny luck before she goes off in pure treple licquidance. I'd give three shillings a pullet to the canon for the conjugation to shadow you kissing her liberally all over as if she was a crucifix. Enjombyourselves thurily. It's good for her |9'labials bilabials9'|, you understand. There's nothing like the mistletouch for finding a queen's earring false. Let's have a fuchu all round. And as he's boiling with water I'll light your pyre. Turn around, skeezy Sammy, out of metaphor, till we feel are you still tropeful of poetry! |9'If you doubt of his love of dare airingº his feelings you'll very much hurt,º for the label Mischmaschº |amastufactured in mastufractured ona| europe you can read off the tail of his. Rip ripper rippest and jack jag jag jag.9'| Dwell on that, my hero and lander! That's the side that appeals to em, the wring wrong way to wright woman. Shuck her! Let him! What he's good for. Shuck her more! Let him again! All she wants! Could you wheedle a staveling encore out of your imitationer's jubalharp, hey, Mr Jinglejoys? Uck! He's so sedulous to singe always if prumpted! Grunt unto us, I pray, your foreboden article in our own dear dockandoilish introducing the death of Nelson with coloraturas! Coraio, fra! And I'll string seconds |9'to hermaniseº9'|. My loaf and pottage neaheaheahear Rochelle. With your dumpsey diddeley dumpsey die, fiddeley fa. Diavoloh! Or come on and we'll scrap, rug and mat, and then be as chummy as two bashed spuds. Bitrial bay holmgang or betrayal buy jury. Attaboy! Fee gate has Heenan hoity, mind uncle Hare? What, sir? |9'Poss, myster?9'| Thou thou? Taurus periculosus, morbus pediculosus. Miserere mei in miseribilibus! There's uval lunguage for you! Begob, there's not so much green in his Ireland's eye! The
bark is still there but the molars are gone. The misery billyboots I used to lend him before we split! But I told him make your will be done and go to a general and I'd pray confessions for him. Areesh! Areesh! Did you note that worried expressionism on his megalogue? A full octavium below me! And did you hear his three browrings rattlemaking when he was preaching to himself? And (whoa!) do you twig the schamlooking leaf creeping ghastly down his blousyfrock? Areesh! He won't. He's shoy. My oldfaher's uncle that was garotted, Caius Cocoa Codinhand, used to chop that tongue of his, japlatin, with my younkle's owlseller, Woowoolfe Woodenbeard, that went stonebathered, in the Tower of Balbus, as brisk, man, as I'd scoff up muttan chepps and lobscouse. But it's all deafman's duff to me, begob. Sam knows miles bettern me how to work the miracle. And I see |9'by his diarhio diarrhio9'| he's dropping the stammer out of his silenced bladder since I bonded him off more as a friend and as a brother to try and grow a muff and canonise his dead feet down on the river airy and place the ocean between his and ours, after he was capped out of college for the sin against the past participle and earned the |9'reputation jactitationº9'| for cutting chapel and of being swift, B.A.A. Twas the quadra sent him and trinity too. He'll prisckly soon handtune your Erin's ear for you, p.p. a mimograph at a time, numan bitter, with his ancomartinns to read the road roman with false steps ad Pernicious from rhearsilvar ormolus to torquinions superbers while I'm far away from wherever thou art, serving my tallyhos and tullying
my hostilious, by going in by the most holy recitatandas ffffor my varsatile examinations. ꟼ! P? F? F! |9'Ahehihohyoum!º9'| In the beginning was the geste, he jousstly says, for the end is with woman, flesh-without-word, while the man to be is in a worse case after than before since she on the supine satisfies the verb to him. Toughtough, tootoological. Thou, the first person shingeller. Art, an imperfect subjunctive. Paltry, flappent, haud serious. Miss Smith, onamatterpoetic. Hamnisandwis axes colles waxes warmas like sodullas. So pick your stops with fondness now. And mind you twine the twos noods of your nicenames. And pull up your furbelows as farabove as you're |9'waisthigh farthingales9'|. |9'Show you shall and wontº he will!9'| His hearing is in doubting just as my seeing is on believing. So dactylise him up to blankpoint and let him blink for himself where you speak the best ticklish. Fond namer, let me never see thee blame a kiss for shame a knee!