thee sharpe teeth of thee hare

[foxtongue]

And so though fweete Y haf been bytten by the vypr and now my hyaert turnd greene. Yt myt haf been wonderfull thiff hard case oft worn, thefe lips nown as thine, exept for the esoteryc maladeis of the flesh, how burdonsomme, how unkynde. The mappe Y draw to thee ys lyk a mappe of my own hart, though stagge and horn collyde, all ventrycles and photographyc, vayns most vayn and darke besyde. "Wayt for me." he said, one hande holdyng myne. "Y cannot." y cryd, unwylling, my voyse madde of paynt ynd turpentynne. Y ftay payned he was untrue, that Y was not ynoufe for hym, that hys luft drove hym to dysmay. Y do not fee myself in nowe, infstead Y am unglued, ynvysyble though comewat maye. Does thyse thynges contynue? Fhouldde Y ftay?