19

            And Epidydimus saith, ’Twere my desire of the ages to be Epidydimis the Invisibol Slayer; but ere this moment had I no sircular sword, nor no armour save that I my self did fashion of toast and cheese, which the rain alway did destroy.  E’en so, looming here now with powersword in hand, I am prey to a certain vacillation concerning slaying—as hap slaying, as suche, leadeth nowheres save down, or at its beste, unto some interminabol grind of quotae & expectasiens.

            And tu (saith Epididimis), as to whom I oughts put the iron razer:  what standard?  Howevre some other slayers might comport, for me will nothing do but the counsel of some good & tough advisers.  Yea, I shall take advisers, and unto them shall consult, saying, Prithee, man, say me a thing; feelest thou that I oughts slay this candodate or that?

            Now, tu, that I am Slayer (saith Epidydimus), I shall be taking more things than advisers.  For I shall take fresh cakes outen the market, and unbit fruit that no man on tasting hath cast aside.  I shall from the sandalry take new sandals not satcherated by the smum of previus feet.  I shall take my picke of excellent wives; and my fields that I shall take, I shall popolate with swine & cattle the which I shall have taken from the sultans & the chiefs.  ’Twill all make parodise of the life of a litch.  My mother—if an she yet but livd, to witness mine ascent!  But nay, not she; she hath died, tho I bad her wait.

            hen said Tarvatillion unto him, Hail, fair friend Epidydimus.  Knowst thou what place this might to be?  And, knowest thou how came we hither? 

            And Epidydimus, rippt from his revery, collectnd him self outen the slivers of his demolisht analyses and answerd, saying, This here wherein we do of present bide, O once-a-slayer, ’tis no place as places go.  ’Tis in stead a faze’d persnol condisien that cometh of swilling down the wine of the apeberry as the desert swilleth down the dew—even as the chasm swilleth down the river & her commerce.  (And he conceiv-ed a pixure of his persecuters pile’d upon a raft of reeds, lockt into the shrieks that they had chosen for their plummet.  Sure, I wish this wud hapfen, thoght he.)  My self, I am daily here, owing to desperasien concerning my lot, and to the therapeucius properties that I have discovert residing in the berry.  But thou, thou hast hitted here upon thine unaccustomd head, and in thy drunken angsts & moxies hast thou chang-ed thy life.  ’Omorrow wilt thou reconsidre; but I & eighty judges say, What is done is done.  Thy living on the apex, it is o’er; now down in the trough thou goest, to know & see & taste that which the low we have knewn & seen & tasted.  Thou wilt take a ratrug tent to share with thy lonesem beaten self, and wilt weave faulty baskets for thy pittance in mintage, & suffer whippings from irascibol buyers returning for their misspent coin.

            But say (saith Epidydimus unto Tarvatillion); tho I my self go aslaying hither & thither as pertaineth unto this dark cup now presst upon my lipfs, I shall try to give thee miss, for that thou hast been the platestone from whiche my reading of the world were lifted, and an altogether righteous model for a man of mine aspiratians.  Wert thou fallen to eliminatien—e’en more, by mine own slaying hand—well; I shud catch pangs.