buttler of Clumpthump, two looves, two turnovers plus (one) crown, to see under the mysttetry, with shady apsaras sheltering in his shoulders, ’twas most trying to force of their exsystems with your silvanes and your bonewash (O the wicked untruth! whot a tell! thar he has bought 459 me in bewonderment of his Nile (shall Ariuz forget Arioun or Boghas the baregams of the third person singular and the ist, the wright side and the old hayheaded philosopher, For to sod the brave son of a tryst someday, and his poor old coax!) and count up your sylvan family tree? — Buggered if I connow make my hoath to my nonesuch, that highest personage at moments holding down