horn strumper! what does this fellow want? get out, oaf, before i pluck both your eyes, cut off your head and make corkscrews out of your legs. he's gone already. but he left this letter. you read it. i don't know whether i'm going out of my mind or whether i forgot how to read. read it, clownish female. it's probably from manure. exactly. he says that he has escaped from prison, but the czar has welcomed him most warmly, that he is going invade your territories and reinstate boggerlas on the throne, and that you will most certainly end up swinging on the end of a rope. oh, i'm scared. oh, oh, oh, i'm frightened. oh, i'm a dead stalk. what's to become of me, poor wretch that i am? this nasty man is going to kill me. saint anthony and all the saints preserve me. i'll shell out bags of phynance and even burn candles to you. oh, god, what's to become of me? there's only one course for you to adopt, pa ubu. - what's that, my love? - war. may god defend the right. well and nobly spoken. oh, yes, and i get knocked about all over aga