[BNP/E3, 49A2 – 29-29a]

25-9-08.

Since my madness will not flit

If I weep it, not a bit,

Why not fly it hard with wit

Why not joke and laugh at it?

Ah, ah, ah! This, though half-shove 

Yet is fine, deep laughter

For I’m completely conscious of

The scope though with my sadness doth rove

†? Ah! Who says I am?

Ah, ah, ah! I may be far

Madden thou I think me now

[29v]

Come, for this you feed gives

Makes you easier in your lives

Therefore, oh my two friends, well

Drill on this toast of pure-smell

If, my friends, impulses all

That season now doth part control

† ‘tis gone you will be free

And for ever all alt me.

[29ar]

Drill, good star, drill, my fund Hate,

Rage, Lust, {…}

My season’s joy. Let us well

Drill to it †! Fun-smell!

[29av]

Conscious, unconscious, worried

This matter is quite

{…}

_______

Drink we deeply this last toast

Shifting joyful as we toast

For to-day, my friends, all, I

Bind my season a goodbye

Then I’ll cross {…} river

In madness then to be for ever

{…}