2.
Quandary of the Fifth Head

ow Scog—for of Scog in the main this chronicol doth relate, neither of the crowd & crewe of jollie Varostril—he went by day, so to be not shadowd by vampyres, and by

           In Citrigonk neither sweet nor fair there livd the king Ellemon Slondregonk, the very same who hath five heads.  But four heads were massacred by assassins, and the last liveth in fear.  And from the each of the four wilted necks there hangd a pot of annointnd aromatique soil nestling its sepulcher’d head; for the head upon each neck, after her shrinking and mummifaxien, repos-ed in a little pagoda sepulchre, wherein it hath been interr-ed with some beads and fragrant oils, and with its wife’s shrinkt head and the shrinkt heads of its mistresses.  Yea, saith Ellemon, Ought a man expire, and leave loose these womans unto claims against his brother’s inheritage?  It seemeth not so, saith he; It seemeth not so.

            And the King spake unto Scog, saying, Gra!  Thou wudst to be our curser of buzzards, ugly man?  (But the King mendeth his own feeling with threads rippt outen Scog’s feeling, in saying, Ugly man; for natcherly, the King him self were very ugily indeed.)

            And Omazimpsin went aside with Scog and fell to whispers, that the King be not incenst.  And he said, The King here, lo, he is something, eh?  But, he is not enogh.  Some there be who plot him murder, and I am their leader.  Nought yet hath been set.  We might in stead to pronounce him a god, and worshipf him, rather than to do him merder.  So.  There then the stickle.  To slay or to magnify:  this is the brutal-magoo that hath us mired, the popparocker we do ponder.  I needs must say, it hath me plenty jamm’d.

            And Omazimpsin drew close unto Scog and whisperd, saying, This city needeth a nova, bra—a new beacon & beam; for hell’ards in the dark hath it spiral’d of late.  And of this beacon I say, Let it be me.  I know what needeth fixt, and I know what needeth additionel decay.  Thou wudst marvel at the weakness of the city, notwithstanding the cast of fat acters & plump mummers which we swaddle in the soldier’s girdle and send marching about with carvd thrusters punching the bloody ev’nin’ sky, that they be observd in silhouettsie agaynst the horizon.  Why, bra, the north wall crumbleth, and a taggle of fishwifes with brooms could take it.

            But say (quoth Omazimpsin); ’tis but wise of me to entreat silence of thee in these crucial confidences.  Elophant of wisdom that I am, I say unto thee, ’tis not without some risq unto my self, unto my cronies, unto this city and kingdem, so to visit thee—whom never have I previous seen—with deep & vital knowings that e’en my very King knoweth not.  Yet ’twere necessary, that thou shudst gaze upon me with quicken’d awe; and that when I am turnd apart from thee,

thou shudst envy upon the backe of mine head with a star-eyed urgency to dwell in my grace & compny, considring my terrific reach in the works here.  If’n Risq be mine expense for admiratien, then I say, Let me risk.  An an dram of glory cost the world its self, then let it cost.  The world, ’tis not mine any way.