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.