ALL FOOLS DAY

类别:文学名著 作者:查尔斯·兰姆 本章:ALL FOOLS DAY

    ts of to my ers, and a merry first of April to us all!

    Many urns of to you -- and you --and you, Sir -- nay, never fro a long face upon tter. Do not  need of ceremony among friends? and me -- a speck of tley. Besival, s to stand aloof. I am none of tion, and care not s me in t to-day, s ell ultus sum. translate me t, and take t to yourself for your pains. , man,  t computation.

    Fill us a cup of t sparkling gooseberry --  on t us troll tc?

    here shall he see

    Gross fools as he.

    Norifle to knoically,  fool t ever lived. I ainly give  breed, I t mucy name you ty.

    Remove your cap a little furt ride  aune ,

    _______the crazy old church clock,

    And the bewildered chimes.

    Good master Empedocles, you are  is long since you  a salamander gatna. orse tis a mercy your achios.

    us! and  upon at ttom of terranean? You ake it, of terested sect of turists.

    Gebir, my old free-mason, and prince of plasterers at Babel, bring in your tro Ancient Grand! You o a seat at my rigron of tammerers. You left your ly, at eigoises, or t, above t a long bell you must o call your top o t? I am a rogue if I am not aso s on Fisreet er your altitudes. Yet  somew.

    , tears ? -- cry, baby, put its finger in its eye, it sty moppet!

    Mister Adams -- odso, I  -- pray do us to read to us t sermon, o Mistress Slipslop -- ty and second in your portmanteau tinence -- t  irrelevantly and impertinently seasonable to time of the day.

    Go Master Raymund Lully, you look  t error. -

    Duns, spare your definitions. I must fine you a bumper, or a paradox. e er, t no gentleman break tender sumbling across them.

    Master Stepe. --  you ? -- Ague-c, let me pay my devoir to you. -- Master S to command. -- Master Silence, I  s you in someo-day. -- I kno, I kno.

    R--, my fine old Librarian of Ludgate, time out of mind, art t, it is not over-neories --  tting about t te ? -- tomers are extinct, defunct, bed-rid, o read long ago. -- t still among ture, t  patron, is flown.

    King Pandion, he is dead,

    All t in lead. -

    Nevertake your seat rue courtesy, in gravity, in fantastic smiling to teous smiling upon oture of ences, t noto t of c t  be uated bet spinsters -- able formal love urning noo to t Malvolian smile -- as if Cervantes, not Gay, ten it for  revolve, before tesy could ied and meritorious-equal damsels. . . . . .

    to descend from titudes, and not to protract our Fools Banquet beyond its appropriate day, -- for I fear t many ant -- in sober verity I ruto turally, as if I o  dived not beloter, I read t guessing at to simple arcect, t built ertained for ious neig t soul t kept alent; and -- prizing ty beyond t, and, to my appre unfeminine itors -- I felt a kindliness, t almost amounted to a tendre, for tless virgins. -- I ance since, t lasted; or a friends ans  some tincture of ters. I venerate an  obliquity of understanding. t in your company, tests   betray or overreacy, s; ty, ifies. And take my old it you, if you please, t  a dram of folly in ure, ter in ion. It is observed, t quot;tterels, -- cods-; and  suc   patterns of our species, but so many darlings of absurdity, minions of te boys? -- Reader, if you  my ruction, it is you, and not I, t are the April Fool.


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