Sunday 15 July 2007

Gangrene - The Able Mrs Thrang - Homer - Homerton - Witte

As kinde testamente to my heroick axions and eke Compensation for my flesshe-wounde, whyche tooke a tincture of gang-grene, my Benefactor and Patron gave me a booke to rede in my convalescence, whych was 'The Odyssey' i'th'originaul Greke. Although I am forcd to lie in my sicke-bed to rede of't I fynde it nice physic for my paralysis, spekeing as it doth of various foreign country; youre Nashe is become the Armchaire Traveller, voyagyng by shete and bed-hede through antique demesnes.

I was i'th' habit of kepeing a samovar by my ailyng couche in order thatte I myghte Refresh myselfe wyth hott tea and I had adapted the toastyng-forke to reche across the chamber to the fyre, that kept burnynge by the sagacity of brave Mrs Thrang the land-lady. I koude not reache my deske and therefore establyshed wyth the helpe of Thrang a portable Board that I might propp up before me and so continue scrivenynge and prosynge e'en when I koude nat quit my couche. My inke and pens and electrick quayboarde were all to Hande and she broughte me inne occasional Water and sometymes a spott of Gin. Thus, to her mynde I was in all points the model of a malingeryng Invalyd, tho Vindicated by the Physicians Chit that demanded I reste easy a few dayes yet or there was a chance of Amputation: a prospeckt wyth which I threatened the good woman if e'er she showed some resentment of such a Paradaisickal condition. I therefore tooke care, for her benefitt, piteously to array myselfe whene'er she came within, in order that she myght deryve some satysfaction from just Good Worke rather than torture her kynd conscience wyth the prospeckt that she abetteth gruesome Indolence. O'er the waste field of sicke-tyme I pranced, hand in hand wyth Homer, upon occasion slippyng into a gentil slepe and awakynge wyth a chill, or a tremor - for I was not wholly symptomlesse - that fled lyke the infant cock-roache from the busy broome of that Woman when she came to restore me to healthy Equilibrium.

Yet after she went to bedde hirselfe, betimes I was plungd into swich sickeness and Fever i'th'nyghte, without the ministeryng hande nearby, that I hadde to dragge my corse to the bathroome and runne the Tappe for Water, my braines seemynge all to be clotted, and dark turquoise lampes flaring in mine eye. At these tymes I dreamt awake, of shadowes become armes and legges, of the bedde as a whyte whales belly, strekes of yellow faste-fadinge 'pon the tyles, and I woulde heare catarackts when the Tappe ranne.

Yea, I was privily syckenynge, and I coulde never then slepe, for feare of returnynge to an endless dreme that were worse than lyynge i'th'darke fearynge for my hearte and soule. Yet eache day dawnd wyth the Merciful arrival of Thrang, whose presence instantly cheerd me as she filld the samovar and ope'd the blind's eye, and made her gentle rounde. Goode Thrang! The woman offerd me a Televisioun but sadly I rejeckted it oute of hand as too kinetick. On I went wyth companioun Homer, and duryng momentes of delirivm I made pencyl markes i'th'margin, t'illuminate the texte wyth some Illustracioun and a seasoning of demented Grammatical Comment.

Howbeit I bore up well under the watchful eye of the English Sunne and Mrs T, so wretchedly did my Nyght's Fancies flourish that I soone came to drede them as enemies to my sanity. Soone enough I had myselfe taken to Hospital.

Thrang wheeld me into Homerton Hospital wyth my eyen rollyng about, swetyng and feeble. I was conduckted to a waytyngroom where I hadde my face rubbd wyth 'OK!' and sundrie other Glossy diversions by a wellmeanyng but utterly incoherent olde man, dribblyng warm Spit from his few teethe onto my pale, inert hande. Thankfully he was tore off by an Orderly who drove him backe to his Warde.

At lengthe Thrang retyrd backe to Hackneye and I was brought in to the doctour's roome, where I plumpd my festeryng legge onto the Couche.

-Lets have a looke shalle we? Inquird the maskd Doctour.

A small flicker of resentment was super-ceded by a conflagracioun of payne.

-Lord G-- it hurteth! I complaynd inwardly but presented the MD wyth a milde face.

Upon its revelation, he sayd the wounde promisd to be an easy jobbe. Th'infeccioun, he claimd, had not sprede far, but there woulde need to be a course of medicines as well as a certeyn amounte of cleneing. I baulked mutely.

-How is it cleaned? I enquird.

-There is a kind of automatick vacuum that sucks out the pus & corruption, he replied smugly as he rummaged for't. We can do't now.

-Oughtn't there be a nurse?

-Oh no. Eat this pille.

I didde, and laye backe on the synthetick sheet with Anxiety. Abruptly that he began hooveryng my leg wyth all kinds of whirryng and suction pumpyng the disease oute into a small transparent Bag. What an age this is for medicine! It tickled a litel at the first, but as the gangrene gushd oute it proceedyd to rather grate and at the laste I hadde the notion my entire leg was beyng hoover’d up into the small Bagge. Which it was. I seized at the Doctour's maske and reveald the grinnynge face beneathe.

-Gabriel Harvey! Arch-scholar of the dust-and-skulls seasoun, splitter of dead hair, the fusspot of Saffron Walden! cryd I, pushyng him away and just managyng to un-plug the nefarious Device. What art thou atte, I blazed, scrimshanderyng evil onto the immaculate face of Homerton?

-Nashe, thou brainless leech! Literary smallpox, strangler of the infant Word!

I musterd my strength and founde that meetyng Harvey had been the best cure i'th'world for my feebleness. I propped me up on my goode legge and swivelled th’other to a Resting position.

-Thou shalt paye for thys. But first bandage me up! I orderd, I shall be dede otherwise.

At this Harvey most politely did me uppe with a small bowe in accordance wyth Literary Decorum.

-Now, Gabriel Harvey, prepare to be cast into the lowest echelon of unpublished torpor, where all thy tracts shall be fit toiletpaper for the greate unwashed and thy person be mockd in brainless free verse composd by menopausal women.

-Rot! cryd Harvey, tearynge offe his scrubbs.

After this I climbd on the couche and indicted hym from above.

-With God as my witness, Harvey, I declare thou art an illiterate meatslabbe, a mouldy campfire of self-satisfaction whose feeble smoakings merely remynd passersby not to spit thereon and so put out the few remaining embers. Thou burntst all thy viable talent at the furnace of self-promocioun before you found me, Nashe, and thereat draggd into thy mind, crazd wyth jealousy and hard-fogged wyth indolence and stupidy, the absurde nocioun thy watery selfe couldst best me at penmanshippe. Now I see you attemptynge Murther.

-Oh Nashe, thou rambunctious lickdaisy, thou art a true rhetorician! The sweetenesse of thy collocaciouns goeth so well wyth litel thy face I myght almost swoone wyth admiracioun of so well-appointed a Fellow. What writest thou wyth, a Peacock-feather? Give way to thy superior, O disconsolate prostitute of the letter 'e'.

-What, hast thou f----d it too many a time, and spurted all thy inke in vaine? My penne is the bone of a Brontosaurus compar'd wyth thine, whose issue runneth slackly in the mouthe of the Gutter. Perchance thou hast boild thy owne hede too longe to thynke cooly.

-Woodenheade! snarld Harvey as he aimd a blowe at said Organ, Thy wit hath drained all thinkynge from thy skulle,

-And thine I find, O Harvey, rather Dulle.

Relieve thy palsied wit and put it downe

-My Nashe, thy teethe shall ring a hollow sound
When in thy vacant head they set to rattle

-So you shall see them gleame - let's to battle!

So we began.

-A wooden planke adrift on Neptune's floes
Doth mindless trail in briny endless sea,
But hath more witt than Doctour Harvey's prose,
That she-goats have outdone wyth shit and cheese.
He treats of this, and treats of that, he roves,
He scrubs his logic cleane with turgid sponge;
And from fragment unto fragment without close,
He snouts around his sty of learned crumbs.
Treating weary time and treatyng heaven,
Treating of split haire wyth deference due:
Flavourless and wretched treats unleaven’d
By witt or any cousin thereunto:
Harvey
’s eye doth linger on the quarto:
Doth well, for no man living e’er will want to.

-Nashe-wit doth wilt at the breke of daye,
His mind desert him at auspicious hours;
It rusheth here and yon and eke away,
And leaves the victim choaking on its flowers.
Elan he hath, and vigour, sooth to say
And sharpend tongue and flint to keep it keen;
Yet hath not sense his figures to array:
He spatters them in muck upon the sheet.
His gentile speche doth well befit rich whores
As leathern bootes herpetic heels shoe,
Tho had he but a sentence in his maw
That pricked that mouth wyth sense, he’d bleed and pule.
He maunders on, unlogically designed,
Weak-lispynge in the warm bath of hys mynde.

-Harvey’s mind is ruined clay
His pen doth plough; for
Grainless harvests of dead spring

-Nashes choice of form is ill:
His haiku festers.
May God give him wit to purge it!

I laughed at hys pitiful octosyllable, and thusly asserting my Superiority made streygte for the doore where I koude see the vile man from the Waytingroome was rubbynge ‘Harpers’ against the glass. Before I left the miserable Harvey thwarted agayn, I rounded on him and delivered a short blank-verse address that I fancy really Put the Boote In.

Tho. Harvey, thou hast thy wit o’erspent, and in
The bankrupt office of thy mind ought now
To reckon up all thy engrossed loss.
Thy investment hath bred ninety worm in’s
Bagge, who turn thy wit to moulder’d droppings
And bite thy grasping hand that scoops for more.

At thys brilliaunt declaration Dr Harvey shrivelled inwardly and I left hym quite exhausted after so vociferous a tete-a-tete.

I discharg’d myself wyth ease and saunter’d homeward feeling much restor’d by this Duel of Wittes. When I walked back in Thrang abruptly fell unconscious wyth surprise, and steppyng o’er her, I satte downe in my arme-chaire suddenly faynte from th’exertion.

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