"Toborrow and toburrow and tobarrow!"

(453.29-455.29)  "Lo, improving ages wait ye!" says Shaun at the beginning of today's reading, letting them know that better times are on the way.  He adds that "when yon clouds are dissipated after their forty years shower, the odds are, we shall all be hooked and happy, communionistically, among the fieldnights eliceam, élite of the elect, in the land of lost time."  The Lenten season is over, and it's time to live.  With these optimistic words, Shaun begins to take his leave.  "So for e'er fare the welt!" he says.  "Parting's fun.  Take though, the wringle's thine, love.  This dime doth trost thee from mine alms.  Goodbye, swisstart, goodbye!"

But Shaun isn't quite finished with the girls yet.  As he walks away, the narrator says that something "of a sidesplitting nature must have occurred to westminstrel Jaunathaun," for he began to laugh as he was walking away.  Hearing Shaun laugh, the girls begin to laugh as well.  Hearing this, Shaun turns around to see what's happening.  "So they stood still and wondered," the narrator says.  "Till first he sighed (and how ill soufered!) and they nearly cried (the salt of the earth!) after which he pondered and finally he replied[.]"

"There is some thing more," Shaun says in that reply.  "A word apparting and shall the heart's tone be silent."  Once again, he says, "Fare thee well, fairy well!"  But he does add that it will be necessary for them to pray while he's gone:  "It's prayers in layers all the thumping time."  This sets Shaun down a path of thought concerning heaven and earth.  "No petty family squabbles Up There nor homemade hurricanes in our Cohortyard, no cupahurling nor apuckalips nor no puncheon jodelling nor no nothing," he says.  "Postmartem is the goods," he goes on to explain, noting that heaven is much better than "our crass, hairy and evergrim life."  We can't live forever, he explains, but part of us must surely do that:  "We may come, touch and go, from atoms and ifs but we're presurely destined to be odd's without ends."  Shaun ends today's passage with a rather lyrical flourish, noting that the miseries of our earthly life pale in comparison to "the Hereweareagain Gaieties of the Afterpiece" that we will encounter when "the Royal Revolver of these real globoes lets regally fire of his mio colpo for the chrisman's pandemon to give over."  After the Judgment Day, Shaun says finally, we will experience "Mark Time's Finist Joke":  "Allspace in a Notshall" (putting all of space into a nutshell, or nothing).