DRAFT SIX: Will it make of one a good milker this having been bread and buttered up in Porterstown on superlatives and under duress of sternanders? (Say, gipsy augur or weird wise woman?) Or will this alter, thick of his thigh, go to outlands in a peajacket as a roaming catharick and just not be silly or, caring dumb all toppings for the birthrate or the public his health, sit on another's seat gleeful as any girlsweller, and lean to loungily on his lentils? Wrong! Antruist animal will live dangerously like Daredevil Donnelly and, mickleless as never a wight was, find somehow no matter how [moreover] and evermore the petty cash to crack diurnally a box of lucifers luciferts. Or if she seeks and mates an earth of heaven, the sweet one, will she lilt with convuslions that Barney take her home again? For so long as shes in dimity underalls even if one piece ensembled with her lapbitch companion read Storycarrier's holy marrimony series of love thanks to upholstery and in applepie bed, such as Irish Destiny in four reels, in a bummeltrain with a lot of unintersting duck trousers hanging around, as it is wholly probable as a holy parable that the worst at long leash may hope to happen, such as go to meet Mary, miss Mamie and marry Meg. Were she the light lamp of the lighthouse herself simpletenuously on of her natural, she's a merbaby so _____. Why the devilkins ask any Tossy Madden in Yesland or Nervous Nelly of Holy God, whatever be her hoydenname, sense in proper words from any posycard that shred scenting as how every annual has its actual aroma. Even recollecting of a tree is far too lovely a spellbinder for her to listen. / Small blame be hers therefore that she shook her simply shoe off at geography giggle, doing provinces of Persia, and Alpennines and all that stuff, when Pa let me go too's tonic sulphur was outsung with a whispered wilfulness heard fore you could whistle an Ave from Hazelizod round this giddying globe! Remember she speaks Cashmir and you, allbeyon her intended, cannot her industand. Bewise of Fanciulla's heart, the heart of Fanciulla, fluff, and her hand that's as gloveless as a peer's in the presence, la pura è pia bella of those hazelblue eyes of woodside beauty and that linefree face. What painter would do them justice? [Yet. Add to these that musicalsneeze of hers [and those little pagars].] All four will be readymaid marrying and disengaged for real palship with all or any hellsent lovethieves or beauty burglars who have scraped her acquaintance when Jollycomes out for it mashing home. And if one has no abjection one may go to the length of saying: a very good thing too. Groomsman, bridegame, spouseman, prey. Though her loinstones be of jade and her moon increscent, she will swoon over Percy Busshe so as, in the Askimwhose, to get a crush on the cornerman and only learn from a Dalcroze teachment the how to drop her gift umbrella. See! See! / But her truest foible, as the little grey nuns with feline ingenuity will school her without fuss or muss either, with Brother Agnus in their background, since today is well thine but whose will tomorrow's be, is to beg two makes in change for one wing. But when there's no more tay for sugar the cosey arrives that divinity showshapes their ends backview them how we will. For singleness on purpose is all their gender's bugbear especially when old which they all soon get to look. / Pendent this time there he who for his priority will be either crowned as hanged scans the errors of history from a parrotbook of Datas traduced into jinglish janglage and ligatured in halfcalf for the usages of dolphons born. If the santimeter of Hairyoddities, that dull emitter, or Noah's misbelieving missus was to velivole back all the ways by long acres of sea from Wallhollow and through their macroscope telluspeep of whatswhatness, just boyjones upon these obscolene pages, she would laugh that flat that after that she had sanked down on her fat arks they would shake all to sheeks. Hot work does us no harm and pending this time he who (bless his cowly head!) is going to be a pope but first an acolryte, suckled at the breast of a peasant fosteress, because he nought would wet his weapon, will be a coward's castle pulpiticianer and apostle walker from the ball of his footup when he is not shuttling the sacred rattle, oriented actually though he be, sees not her signings nor the long multiplyings of her shadow when that Irish Thebaid [with its three saints' orders [drawers of souls] ... ] comes to stay but is ating, as he thinks at present, for his private salivation of the petrified knuts of knowledge and reckoning runes (On MS p. 297 Joyce substituted for "reckoning runes" the word "margaritomancymaking," from which the paragraph "Margaritomancy! . . . or" grew. To the ink fair copy he added a new opening for this paragraph, one which is suggestive of things to come: "Margaritomancymaking. [The green ray of even it waves to us yonder.] And may this sybilette prove our shiboleth for us to syllble it well.") off a blackthorn messagestick, so as to befit him for the massacre, by pitchcap prob and triangle tripos, of the blissbrigade of the innocents and the holy murder of the hydrodux, while still preserving that stained glass face effect (you would surely swear butter would not melt in his breeches) (On MS p. 298 Joyce substituted "sugarly swear but" for "surely swear" and "probreeches" for "breeches.") and piling up sapience, an omnitude of jadg and daktar (These words were added to fill a space left expressly by the typist, who could not read Joyce's hand.) as sagely as Anisocrates. / And. / But rather.