’(…) we bend fro’ the embosom ne’er too long — they draw nigh out of the auditorium-like audience — and stare in the eyne o’ mine as into a speculum — I suspire ’cry you mercy?’ — lo, the fate unobvious so! — spaeing the malum-pendulum I only hark to applause — passeth me he the goblet nou to laetificate — e’er doth he me so as everso as oeillade — ’verily, ’tis potable, my dearmost’, and we swirl and swirl — the swan song na to thwart — ne’er lonesome furthermore…’