Nashes New Veture - the Law Broken - Interview with a Victim of Crime - Another Merrie Execution - The Worke Goeth On

Like a ghastly teen-ager simperynge at hys owne capturd reflexion in an pier-glass, the contents of the rede boxe offerd little more than a self-serving catalogue of fecklesse and forgettable brayinge about its authors shortcominges. I desird to purify the situation in order that I mighte better slepe at night (and when I list, being in the habit recently of taking on deaths counterfeit at whatever hours and at bus-stations, cupboards, shipyards &c.), and decided to RUBBE OUT Lady Mawde as soon as I coulde. The methode I hit uponn was simple. Duryng her absence from the publick eye in her trysts with Harvey, I woulde substitute her Ladyshippe with a brilliant doppelganger who behavd every way like her - and when the Lady found her reputation in rags and tatters after Nashes spurious Maude had disgracd herselfe in the most awfulle ways imaginable, she woulde surely be driven to suicide or worse. Thus removing her from th'equation and leaving Doctor Harvey so love-lorne that he woulde surely knockke hymselfe dede over, and if possible with, her inert bodie.

Firste I needed a patsy, and this was furnishd easily by a tripp downe to the Houses of Parliament where I kidnappd a besuited lady I founde smackd out on a park-benche. She came to in Nashes rooms, stackd in a papier-mache gibbet made from olde pamphlets and pages of invective that I had idly writ againste Harvey and Maude, and wyth a sylver spoon stukke in her mouthe that she streightway spatte oute and berated your humble kidnapper & vigilante proser with the followynge, and in an intolerably excruciating voixe:

-You brazen crimynal y'll hang for thys, I have more than one father and they are Q.C.s all. People lyke you dont deserve to see the lovely birrds nor breathe this sweet air that G-d has gi'en us for nothynge but this (witnesse this) starry entry-stampe that I WEAR upon my SOULE while I see yours is as blanke as a perfickt egge... nor, clystermonger, am I beholden to you to allow myself to be so ridiculously coopd up in the servyce of whatever higgledypiggeldy scheme you mighte be cookynge up in that o'ersizd hede of yours.
-Whye madame, if you wyll lie as if a great human Pen on the universall inkestande of the parke-benche you muste expect to be usd like one.
-Damn youre eyes and please explaine what revoltynge procedures you have shord up against my retaining even the loosest grip on my life or dignity. Ile wager you're to sette me to ransome or on fire or make me into a piece of clip-art or some other devilry, I can see by youre inky hand youre a man of the Pen, I cannot trust those of that colour and certeinly not wyth an eye lyke youres it looketh like a comett smashynge into an eighteen-wheeler.

I approachd her with my pen at fulle cocke and, havynge chargd it with rede inke, drewe a vein-lyne on her tremblynge hande. I swore as her captor that nexte tyme it woulde be reel. She laughd at me.

-You are a pitiful captor. Whats youre name?

A brilliant thoughte strukke me.

-I am Doctor Gabriel Harvey, I proclaimd massively, and th'art an errant...
I was about to storm but founde myselfe utterly loste for thunder. Whats youre name I askd.
-Jereboam she said wyth a twinkle.
-Not Jereboam Manx-Granville, incumbent M.P. for Manchester and bible-eatyng puritan?
-The same.
-Damnd lucke

We continud in this grimm, funcktional manner for some tyme, while I filld her in regardyng the details of my corageous planne. She was to be releasd only upon condition of her takyng on all mannerisms and defeckts of dear old Maud and wearynge the speciall desguise I had procurd for her. Like gods proofreader, I explaind, she would write out Lady Maude's character and in the place of the bumbling ladyshippe would interpolate a new one. We appropriated Mauds mail by brybynge her milk-man, who quyckly putte the poste-man in his pockett and extorted from hym all we needed. Streightaway, we began to worke. She attended the openynge of a garden centre, and Nashe tooke up a guerrilla position behinde the arras, from which I applauded the oeconomical clockworke of my design.

Jereboam steppd to the fronte in her rotting apparatus and in a luxurious, silken tone spoke her speche.

-Speaking on behalf of the board of managers, the investors and the delightful Mrs Tenenbaum, I'd just like to say a few words about how important it is that we continue to invest in Gardens, plants and personal Agriculture. I believe - you know I do! - there was a reason Adam and Eve were only too happy to spend their days gardening [a ripple of knowynge laughter passd through the thronge here as only biblicall humour is wont to provoke in thys daye and age]. It appeals to the most essential parts of what we are. Gardening is more than a pastime or a diversion.

[she begann to waive her hands about dementedly]

Gardening is about slowing down. Keeping ourselves steady. Today, it's difficult even to keep an eye on what's really human.

At this pointe she rushed forward and began to saw offe her owne hede.

General chaos flourishd from th'ensuinge silence like milk bloomyng in liquor. Crowds runninge for safety were pickd off by a gigantick Venus flytrappe that towerd arounde the gate. Already Lady Mauds reputation was seriously damagd and all wede done was dresse up and holde forthe. I was just beginnynge to humm a favourite plainchante when I noticd Jereboam was being strightjacketed and smartly carried off to the local Bedlamme.

I worried, I grit my teeth aboute my tongue backe in my rooms. Who had putte her up to't, they'd aske. But it hitte me like an expresse. All theyde gette woulde be the trouthe.

Doctor Gabriel Harvey.

Nashe Speaketh Oute - A Message of Benediction - A Walke in NATURE - The Document - Nashes Furie - Nashes Continued Furie

I settld my rumpe this morning t'unpacke the boxe that sat athwart my deske. But before fallyng on't, I took my sharpest op'ner to th'inboxe of my E-MAIL and read some kinde and glowynge testimonies. I am moste touchd that a remote pamphleteer of youre Nashes mediocre intellect might penetrate so deeply into th'interstices of youre braines and prattle there. Therefore I craue youre indulgence and your rapt attention as I collect aside this flesshy veil of Tyme and encourage you to peer upon the exquisite stage behind, whereon Nashe shall shew you sightes to which oure cleverest ficktioners never yet aspir'd.

I have beene musing much of late 'pon the nature of my relationshippe with Doctor Harvey, and it was inne this blacke disposition that I walked the parke with some of Lady Mauds documents in hand. Iffe the good Doctor saw fit to RUBBE OUTE Nashe then surely his behaviour would be much the more violente. E'en Harueys miscreated genius might summon more invencioun than a flimsy attacke on the level of ingenuity more imaginable in a wooden parsnippe. A man does notte climbe a mountaine of iddiocy with no means to spit downe it, or perhaps Doctor Harvey is cleverere than I thought and is yet at base campe plottying some superingenious ascent to the peke of his imbecility.

As my comprehension whizzd these thoughts about th'interior of my skulle, I oped the first document and was enforc'd to stoppe dede. My tongue witherd lanklie in my mouthe. Infinitizemally, a beed of sweat trickld slowly from my temple down to't, upon which sudden bitterness my tongue reclaimed controul of itself and bawled out volubly a huge and mutilated crye, that shook my eyes to spasms and made them drenche my worthlesse chekes with water. What horror was writ in the letter - for a lettere it was, make no mistake - to confounde Nashes wits and emociouns so? I reproduce it here, all spellynge left untouchd, to communicate the very precise tragedie of th'experience.

My Dere Lady Maude C. de M.-C.

I muste not speke so openly to you in publick - this is why I ranne from you in the bathe-house for my oiling-boy was awaityng me in the slip-room and I wanted a minute or two att his mercye before I coulde fixx a tyme with you privily. Laste tyme we spoke it was so lyke a rhapture I wishd instantly to repeet it and to write an epick poem aboute your wriste which I have done the beginninge of (see below). Whatt I mene to say lady Morte-Croix is thatt I am youre humbleste and moste urgent of admirers and I encourage you to admit me too youre privacy in order we can be together in that happy prelapsarian worlde of whiche we spoke and at the very firste convenience. Yours unrestrain'dly and cak'd in longing Gabirel Harvey PhD.

Here followeth Harveys revolting poesy writ in stile paltry and vulgar.

Slick wriste, slow wriste, see them floppynge in opennesse:
Compete, my tongue, in most earnestest hopelessness!

My ladys wristes are the ripest for show-businesse
Her eyes that're fractal like paralysd rosebushes
Reflect on a sickle to breake me wyth closelessness
So close beyond focus it bombs me with focusslessness
What a wriste what a bangle what sulph'rous verbosity
Could rise to the copying of Patroclus' [?ness ?fuss ?bagpuss?]

[the documente goeth on in numbers yet fouler and wyth a plethora of crossynges-oute but I weep for its transcribing and muste leave off here]

I hadde to stoppe redeing so that i coude be sicke on the grasse. Harvey's poesy was not only nonsensical, incongruous, and in some wayes extremely profane, but it hadde clearly swam in the moste horrid soupe of his braine for muche too longe. I plannd directly to staple a bombe to his catt but i restrain'd myselfe sayeing Nashe that backchattering viper has notte the witte to do youre Lady Maud she is roughe anywey and I do thinke you coulde do bettere but if you were to inflickt some terrible ignominy on Doctor Gabriel Harvey as soone as possible it might be beste.

I realised it was not I was talking but a small boye behind me.

-Away, childe! I bellowed.

The smalle boye remain'd. I decided to take him onne as a kind of helpfull servaunt to my cause and thenne thought bettere of it and threw him to the duckes. My moode was blackere than evere. Both Harvey and Lady Maud hadde bettere watche it. I will discovere them to the publick eye and thenne I shall write the most magnificent poesy yet conceivd about it make no mistake, and thenne my fame wille spredde its mighty winges. No personne shalle ever attempte to subjugate Nashe to the vicissitudes of their hearts without suffering his owne apallynge flavour of renumeration.

Nashe receiveth a Letter - The Contents Reproduc'd - A Visit From her Ladyshippe - The Commision

It was already six o'clock in th'evenynge when eye noted that I was holdinge a letter. It was a creas'd pale envelope with a great smackere of a Stampe, emboss'd with the gigantic crimsom seal of My Lady Maud Cockaigne de Morte-Croix. Lady Maud hadde seen fitt to enclose a locke of her pubick hair, which I discarded. Here follow the contents:

'My dearest NASHE,

It has been my plesure to speke recently with youre agent who has recommended I come to speke with your at youre neareste connvenience my dearest NASHE. However my lumbago has been playynge uppe. It is regardynge your future employmente forre you know as youre patrone Eye must keepe you upp to speeed wyth all flucktyouashuns in the markett and my owne quite horrendous state of health. Youres hole-heartedly and respecktfully,

Ay remaine ever youre student and admiring and awe-paralys'd

Lady Maude Cockaigne de Morte-Croix'

As you can imagyne, I instantly swallowed my tongue. When was she to comme? And Howe? Watt would she bryng? I fidgeted bravely wyth my buckle, before setting out a table, two chairs, a songbird, a pott of tea, a deuce cups and a cushion for my lady's bakkes sake. No sooner hadde I finish'd the assembly of my litel tea-time than I was smash'd o'er the hede by a huge blakk bible which I took for my conscience. I then removed the songbirde, and replac'd it with a crucificks of Oure Lorde in his Passion, which hadde an electronick voice that sange tolerable well of his LAST DAYS and other such verses as Puritans are fond of.

Lady Maud arriv'd with all due ceremony in a smalle greye helicopter at seven o'clock. I shewed her to her seat and switch'd on the Electrick Saviour, which delighted her no small bit. Indeed, she seem'd so happy that she caste herselfe into the fire-place where almost the length of her right arme was consum'd in the flame. Neverthelesse, she sate down again and sipp'd at her tee with some poise.

-Now Nashe to speke of business.
-Yes Lady Maud.
-Whattt have you beene doinge with your selfe Nashe.
I corrected herr spellynge before replyynge:
-Well Madam I have stuffd a man into a postbox, commemorated the birth of my aunte, been viciously undone by that wretch Docktor Harvey and have revenged the Slight with no less than Epick thoroughness.
-Oh Nashe.

There followd a stiff silence in which we bothe felt for a topick.

-Nashe.
-Yes Lady Maud.
-I want you to peruse these documents and fille me in.
-Yes Lady Maud.
-Nashe here is £78,000 do not spende it on prostitutes.
-Yes Lady Maud.
-I must go Nashe I must go.
-Goodbye Lady Maud.
-Thankyou she almost screamed and threw herself at my nekke then begann breathing very harde.

After I hadde watched her to her helicopter and seen her fly off toward peckham I returned to the rede boxe she hadde left, mark'd NASHE. If I did not follow her commands I should lose my house, my livelihood, her friendship and most importantly a chance to effect my aformentioned revenge on Doctor Harvey through a loss of the Right to Publish. As I sitte here beside the unopen'd boxe it dawns on me that it is going to take me a longe time to rede it all. I shalle begin tomorrow.

Nashes indignation - Hys novel Scheme - Journey to the Alehouse - The Vehicle - The Plot put in Motion - A Memoriall Poesy

Doctor Harvey's despicable assavlte on your most incommoded and unregenerate Nashes dignity has been mark'd and remark'd upon. Nowe I shalle shew how it was that I reveng'd his abominable assailement with a scheme so diamond-sharp in its targetting, so immaculate in its simplicity, and so lustrous in its catholic brilliance that euen the whores of cheape-side wyll regarde their primitive employmente as an incomprehensible cobwebbe by comparison with the all-ingesting radiance of the elementary work that NASHE did set aboute.

Yet first I muste issve an apologia for the lakke of promised musings in my former entry. So furious was I as a smashed at the quayboarde that I quite forgote to sett any downe. But I digresse.

What ravenous boar could I unleash on the precincts of Harvey's braine? Come morning, I walk'd out with the intencioun of finding some meat for my invention. And haply, just as I stepp'd in the door of the Blakke Swann alehouse, my prayers were answer'd. From a screene that sate at the end of the barre, there issued a tremendous bawling of engines and a flickeryng streame of ymages that denoted vehicles shootyng aboute a circular and labyrinthine trakke. I fainted dede awaye and was beaten badlye in the alehouse, but betook myselfe backe to my rooms to work at my scheme. Already a hadde an Inklyng of what I should do.

I would drive myselfe directly into Doctor Gabriel Harvey's hede.

Harvesting from the surrounding streets a portion of scrap, a dede dogge, a zimmer-frame, a leather gloue, a cheste freezer, a mousetrappe and a vaste barrell of oxyacetylene, I proceeded to build my Carriage. It look'd like the dede dogge - the dede dogge was the chassis - but it roared like a beast blinde and crazed, and very muche alive. When it was finyshed, I flew it into Doctor Gabriel Harvey's hede.

Nashe does not take pity. He does nott weepe for the unfortunately crippl'd Doctor Harvey. I have writ a poesy for hys downfalle.

In hopeless booke did Harvey write:
The page that kept his life was white.
His empty braines were plateaux streight,
So Nashe he prick'd to compensate.
Yet Nashe end-stopp'd and turn'd to gain
The pique which Harvey would inflame:
In paying like for like in like
Nashe turn'd his day clock-wise to night;
Now Harvey roils in just reward
For Nashes fame is right restor'd.

Nashes Journeye to the Fronte Door - Doubts in the Night - Nashe openeth the Front Door

Another most inauspicious event has transpired, which my minute yet elite readership will find transcribed herebelow, together with some most realisticall musinges of youre Nashe vpon the meaninges and Providences at worke in the backgammon of CONJECTURE.

Lookyng up from my evenings entertainments I noted, oozing from below the doorway to my study, a distinckt and improper orange light. I directly swivelled my plastick chair diametrickally away from my deske, and threw myselfe screaminge into the door, furious that I shoulde have been so disturbed by an errour in Nature.

My house is not on fire! I bellowed enragedly.

After bracing myself againste the opposite wall like to a star-fishe at the opening of a plunging crevasse, I recovered composure sufficient to advance on the door, which had not yet caught fire. Opening it a crakke I noted that nor hadde the hallway. Nothing burn'd, yet light was all about me, oranging me. What coulde I do? Orange glinted on my smoothe for'hede as I advanc'd on the front door. In a wanne side-roome, my clocke read 'three'. It was the very witchyng houre of nighte, and your humble narr. was whipp'd by his own fancy into a kinde of ecstatic phrenzy. What daemonry was this, that rous'd me from perusal of my favourites? Why did light thus derangedly pour from the furrow'd glasse of the door? The spyhole did wink at me. I rais'd a trembling hande and turned it in the lighte. Behind me, in the study, my candle burn'd horrid and dim in the faintess.

I conjectured the entire world must be ablaze. Yet heroically Nashe, trapp'd between a vision of gehenna and a false bedtime amongst unspeakable night-terrors - for returyng to my bookes was impossible by now - chose th'apocalips. My hande reached for the knobbe of the front door, as I clos'd my lungs and eyes to the awful consequence. My toes scrap'd the toppes of my schoes. I flunge the door open.

With an almightye crash, thirty-two pounds of o'er-ripe eggs, biscuit, and prostitutes felle on my hede.

I thinke Doctor Harvey is behinde this. When I have revenged this catastrophic slight I shalle publishe cross-sections of his manhood in a Limited Edition.

The womanne and the beast - the poste-office clerke - Nashes returne in misery

I telle you, it has been a murie day in my hede. Twice have I ensconced a lady, and in furtherance of her have squandered sixteen pounds on a donkey on which to place her. She lookes magnificent astride't. I sit atyping clad in veal-meat and bandages after this morning there befell me a most horrid incident that I shall forthwith relate unto you.

I had my handes open to recyve into them a packet of no small importt, it being the birtheday of my aunte in 1596, and I was standing crookedly at the bar of a post-office. I was sendynge her a Frenche litre of scotche, for my aunte is a heroine amongst the squalid of her borough through her abilities of swilling away pintes by pintes of the stuffe. Then, counfounde it, the clerke saw my handes were sullied with inke, and suspected me of my intencioun.

-You are sendinge Inke into Hakneye? (cunnynglye, I had labeled the packet 'Inke' with my broadest quill)
-Ay. There is a shortage.
-Of Inke?
-Ay. Now poste it, confounde you.
-I cannot post inke.
-Nor can I hear the wimpish maunderings of milk-bred intellect. Post the Inke or I shalle poste you.
-I cannot, it is clearly to spille in the poste-man's sacke.

I knew the packet did not containe Inke, for I had pack'd it earlier with Scotch. But I could not let on. If he were to open the packet it should spille oute.

-If you do not poste that Inke I shall stab thee, I menaced.
-Pshaw! replied he. There is a Glasse Wall between us.

I destroyed the Glasse Walle with my hede, and stuff'd the whole sorry combobulation, clerk, Inke and all, into the poste-boxe.

I awoke at my terminalle wrappd, as I saye, in veale-mete and blake bandages. My lady is still astride the donkey i'th corner of the roome. Perhaps she and I may have ourselves a little chattere over a cupp of hot milke.

Nashe cometh - Apology for Nashe - Statement for Orthography - Statement of Intencioun

Howeuer otherwise you might think it, I Thos. Nashe am liuing and well in this anno domini of 2005. This is the way the purgatorial biscuit has seen fit to dispose itself and the way your humble narr. shalle dispose hymselfe. I shall keepe my blogge well up to date with news of suche matters as infuriate me, Thomas Nashe, in this century of high-speed muttering of chickenfat and elecktrick wires. And it is you, my most magesticall readers, who shall indulge me. Isn't it? Ay.

My spellynge might seeme a little unstable, for whiche I craue youre patience as i update myselfe. My first idea in producing this modern steam-pamphlet is to unclose the great web of strings in which my brain wriggleth, and loose it yamping and bitinge amongst the infant musings of lesser intellects, and all othere concernes muste be secondarie. I shall not reste untill I have crack'd at least in six the notion of my 'Death'.

Youde better watche it.

Nashe, 8/5/05