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.