English

An Angel came to me and said: "O pitiable foolish young man! O horrible! O dreadful state! consider the hot burning dungeon thou art preparing for thyself to all eternity, to which thou art going to such career."
I said: "perhaps you will be willing to shew me my eternal lot & we will contemplate together upon it and see whether your lot or mine is most desirable."

A more humane Mikado never
Did in Japan exist;
To nobody second,
I'm certainly reckoned
A true philanthropist.
It is my very humane endeavour
To make, to some extent,
Each evil liver
A running river
Of harmless merriment.

My object all sublime
I shall achieve in time —
To let the punishment fit the crime —
The punishment fit the crime;
And make each prisoner pent
Unwillingly represent
A source of innocent merriment —
Of innocent merriment!

All prosy dull society sinners,

Rintrah roars and shakes his fires in the burdened air;
Hungry clouds swag on the deep.

Once meek, and in a perilous path,
The just man kept his course along
The vale of death;
Roses are planted where thorns grow,
And on the barren heath
Sing the honey bees.

Then the perilous path was planted;
And a river, and a spring
On every cliff and tomb;
And on the bleached bones
Red clay brought forth.

Till the villain left the paths of ease
To walk in perilous paths, and drive

Persons
King Edward
The Black Prince
Queen Philippa
Duke of Clarence
Sir John Chandos
Sir Thomas Dagworth
Sir Walter Manny
Lord Audley
Lord Percy
Bishop
William, Dagworth's Man
Peter Blunt, a common Soldier

Scene [I]

The Coast of France, King Edward and Nobles.
The Army.

King: O thou, to whose fury the nations are
But as dust! maintain thy servant's right.
Without thine aid, the twisted mail, and spear,

The emanation of the Giant Albion

[Frontispiece]

[Above the archway:]

There is a Void, outside of Existence, which if enterd into
Englobes itself & becomes a Womb, such was Albions Couch
A pleasant Shadow of Repose calld Albions lovely Land
His Sublime & Pathos become Two Rocks fixd in the Earth

His Reason, his Spectrous Power, covers them above[.]
Jerusalem his Emanation is a Stone laying beneath[.]
O [Albion behold Pitying] behold the Vision of Albion
[On right side of archway:]

From Chap 3d
In the Moon as Phebus stood over his Oriental Gardening O ay come Ill sing you a song said the Cynic. the trumpeter shit in his hat said the Epicurean & clapt it on his head said the Pythagorean
Ill begin again said the Cynic
Little Phebus came strutting in
With his fat belly & his round chin
What is it you would please to have
Ho Ho
I wont let it go at only so & so

From Chap 6
Ah said Sipsop, I only wish Jack [Hunter ] Tearguts had had the cutting of Plutarch he understands anatomy better than any of the Ancients hell plunge his knife up to the hilt in a single drive and thrust his fist in, and all in the space of a Quarter of an hour. he does not mind their crying — tho they cry ever so hell Swear at them & keep them down with his fist & tell them that hell scrape their bones if they dont lay still & be quiet — What the devil should the people in the hospital that have it done for nothing, make such a piece of work for

1
When old corruption first begun,
Adorn'd in yellow vest,
He committed on flesh a whoredom--
O, what a wicked beast!
2

From them a callow babe did spring,
And old corruption smil'd
To think his race should never end,
For now he had a child.
3

He call'd him surgery, & fed
The babe with his own milk,
For flesh & he could n'er agree,
She would not let him suck.
4

And this he always kept in mind,
And form'd a crooked knife,
And ran about with bloody hands

Obtuse Angle, Scopprell, Aradodo, & Tilly Lally are all met in Obtuse Angle's study.
"Pray,' said Aradobo, "is Chatterton a Mathematician?'
"No,' said Obtuse Angle, "How can you be so foolish as to think he was?'
"Oh, I did not think he was--I only ask'd,' said Aradobo.
"How could you think he was not, & ask if he was?' said Obtuse Angle.
"Oh no, Sir. I did think he was, before you told me, but afterwards I thought he was not.'

Truly, my Satan, thou art but a dunce,
And dost not know the garment from the man;
Every harlot was a virgin once,
Nor canst thou ever change Kate into Nan.

Tho' thou art worshiped by the names divine
Of Jesus and Jehovah, thou art still
The Son of Morn in weary Night's decline,
The lost traveller's dream under the hill.