lynch
Three wise virgins.
virag
(Agueschaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his bony epileptic lips.) She sold lovephiltres, whitewax, orange flower. Panther, the Roman centurion, polluted her with his genitories. (He sticks out a flickering phosphorescent scorpion tongue, his hand on his fork.) Messiah! He burst her tympanum. (With gibbering baboon’s cries he jerks his hips in the cynical spasm.) Hik! Hek! Hak! Hok! Huk! Kok! Kuk!
ben dollard
(Nakkering castanet bones in his huge padded paws, yodels jovially in base barreltone.) When love absorbs my ardent soul.
the virgins
(Gushingly.) Big Ben! Ben Mac Chree!
a voice
Hold that fellow with the bad breeches.
ben dollard
(Smites his thigh in abundant laughter.) Hold him now.
henry
(Caressing on his breast a severed female head, murmurs.) Thine heart, mine love. (He pluks his lutestrings.) When first I saw…
virag
(Sloughing his skins, his multitudinous plumage moulting.) Rats! (He yawns, showing a coalblack throat and closes his jaws by an upward push of his parchment
