00 |
PARUrbane, to comfort them, the quaker librarian purred:
PARAnd we have, have we not, those priceless pages of Wilhelm Meister.
A
great poet on a great brother poet. A hesitating soul taking arms against
a
sea of troubles, torn by conflicting doubts, as one sees in real life.
PARHe came a step a sinkapace forward on neatsleather creaking and a
step backward a sinkapace on the solemn floor.
PARA noiseless attendant setting open the door but slightly made him a
noiseless beck.
PARDirectly, said he, creaking to go, albeit lingering. The beautiful
10 |
PARTwicreakingly analysis he corantoed off. Bald, most zealous by the
door he gave his large ear all to the attendant's words: heard them: and
was
gone.
PARTwo left. PAR
his death.
PARHave you found those six brave medicals, John Eglinton asked with
elder's gall, to write Paradise Lost at your dictation? The Sorrows
of Satan
he calls it. 20
PARSmile. Smile Cranly's smile.
First he tickled her
Then he patted her
Then he passed the female catheter
For he was a medical
Jolly old medi .....
PARI feel you would need one more for Hamlet. Seven is dear to
the mystic
mind. The shining seven WB calls them.
PARGlittereyed his rufous skull close to his greencapped desklamp sought
the face bearded amid darkgreener shadow, an ollav, holyeyed. He laughed 30
low: a sizar's laugh of Trinity: unanswered.
PARHe holds my follies hostage.
PARCranly's eleven true Wicklowmen to free their sireland. Gaptoothed
Kathleen, her four beautiful green fields, the stranger in her house. And
one
more to hail him: ave, rabbi: the Tinahely twelve. In the shadow
of the glen
40 |
PARMulligan has my telegram.
PARFolly. Persist.
PAROur young Irish bards, John Eglinton censured, have yet to create a
figure which the world will set beside Saxon Shakespeare's Hamlet though
I admire him, as old Ben did, on this side idolatry.
PARAll these questions are purely academic, Russell oracled out of his
shadow. I mean, whether Hamlet is Shakespeare or James I or Essex.
Clergymen's discussions of the historicity of Jesus. Art has to reveal
to us
50 |
PARA. E. has been telling some yankee interviewer. Wall, tarnation strike PAR
me!
Aristotle was once Plato's schoolboy.
PARAnd has remained so, one should hope, John Eglinton sedately said. One
60 |
PARHe laughed again at the now smiling bearded face.
PARFormless spiritual. Father, Word and Holy Breath. Allfather, the PARDunlop, Judge, the noblest Roman of them all, A. E., Arval, the Name PARO, fie! Out on't! Pfuiteufel! You naughtn't to look, missus, so
you PAR
heavenly man. Hiesos Kristos, magician of the beautiful, the Logos who
suffers in us at every moment. This verily is that. I am the fire upon
the
altar. I am the sacrificial butter.
Ineffable, in heaven hight: K. H., their master, whose identity is no secret
to
adepts. Brothers of the great white lodge always watching to see if they
can
help. The Christ with the bridesister, moisture of light, born of an ensouled
virgin, repentant sophia, departed to the plane of buddhi. The life esoteric
is 70
not for ordinary person. O. P. must work off bad karma first. Mrs Cooper
Oakley once glimpsed our very illustrious sister H. P. B.'s elemental.
naughtn't when a lady's ashowing of her elemental.
grace a notebook, new, large, clean, bright.
PARThat model schoolboy, Stephen said, would find Hamlet's musings about
the afterlife of his princely soul, the improbable, insignificant and
undramatic monologue, as shallow as Plato's.
80 |
PARJohn Eglinton, frowning, said, waxing wroth:
PARUpon my word it makes my blood boil to hear anyone compare Aristotle
with Plato.
PARWhich of the two, Stephen asked, would have banished me from his
commonwealth?
PARUnsheathe your dagger definitions. Horseness is the whatness of PAR
allhorse. Streams of tendency and eons they worship. God: noise in the
street: very peripatetic. Space: what you damn well have to see. Through
spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after
Blake's buttocks into eternity of which this vegetable world is but a shadow.
Hold to the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past. 90
PARHaines is gone, he said.
PARIs he?
PARI was showing him Jubainville's book. He's quite enthusiastic, don't
you
know, about Hyde's Lovesongs of Connacht. I couldn't bring him in
to
hear the discussion. He's gone to Gill's to buy it.
PARThe peatsmoke is going to his head, John Eglinton opined.
PARWe feel in England. Penitent thief. Gone. I smoked his baccy. Green PAR
twinkling stone. An emerald set in the ring of the sea.
Russell warned occultly. The movements which work revolutions in the
world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the
hillside. For them the earth is not an exploitable ground but the living
mother. The rarefied air of the academy and the arena produce the
sixshilling novel, the musichall song. France produces the finest flower
of
110 |
PARFrom these words Mr Best turned an unoffending face to Stephen.
PARMallarm, don't you know, he said, has written those wonderful prose
poems Stephen MacKenna used to read to me in Paris. The one about
Hamlet. He says: il se promne, lisant au livre de lui-meme,
don't you
know, reading the book of himself. He describes Hamlet given in a French
town, don't you know, a provincial town. They advertised it.
PARHis free hand graciously wrote tiny signs in air.
PARHe repeated to John Eglinton's newgathered frown:
PARPice de Shakespeare, don't you know. It's so French. The French
point
of view. Hamlet ou...
PARThe absentminded beggar, Stephen ended.
PARJohn Eglinton laughed.
PARYes, I suppose it would be, he said. Excellent people, no doubt, but
distressingly shortsighted in some matters.
130 |
PARSumptuous and stagnant exaggeration of murder. PAR
nothing was he a butcher's son, wielding the sledded poleaxe and spitting
in
his palms. Nine lives are taken off for his father's one. Our Father who
art
in purgatory. Khaki Hamlets don't hesitate to shoot. The bloodboltered
shambles in act five is a forecast of the concentration camp sung by Mr
Swinburne.
PARCranly, I his mute orderly, following battles from afar.
Whelps and dams of murderous foes whom none
But we had spared ....
140 |
PARBetween the Saxon smile and yankee yawp. The devil and the deep
sea.
PARHe will have it that Hamlet is a ghoststory, John Eglinton said
for Mr
Best's behoof. Like the fat boy in Pickwick he wants to make our flesh
creep.
List! List! O list!
PARMy flesh hears him: creeping, hears.
If thou didst ever ....
PARWhat is a ghost? Stephen said with tingling energy. One who has faded
into impalpability through death, through absence, through change of
150 |
PARJohn Eglinton shifted his spare body, leaning back to judge.
PARLifted. PAR
glance their hearing. The flag is up on the playhouse by the bankside.
The
bear Sackerson growls in the pit near it, Paris garden. Canvasclimbers
who
sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the groundlings.
PARLocal colour. Work in all you know. Make them accomplices. PAR
160
the swanmews along the riverbank. But he does not stay to feed the pen
chivying her game of cygnets towards the rushes. The swan of Avon has
other thoughts.
PARComposition of place. Ignatius Loyola, make haste to help me! PAR
castoff mail of a court buck, a wellset man with a bass voice. It is the
ghost,
the king, a king and no king, and the player is Shakespeare who has studied
Hamlet all the years of his life which were not vanity in order
to play the
part of the spectre. He speaks the words to Burbage, the young player who
170 |
Hamlet, I am thy father's spirit,
bidding him list. To a son he speaks, the son of his soul, the prince,
young
Hamlet and to the son of his body, Hamnet Shakespeare, who has died in
Stratford that his namesake may live for ever.
PARIs it possible that that player Shakespeare, a ghost by absence, and in
the
vesture of buried Denmark, a ghost by death, speaking his own words to
his own son's name (had Hamnet Shakespeare lived he would have been
prince Hamlet's twin), is it possible, I want to know, or probable that
he
did not draw or foresee the logical conclusion of those premises: you are
180 |
PARBut this prying into the family life of a great man, Russell began
impatiently.
PARArt thou there, truepenny? PAR
when we read the poetry of King Lear what is it to us how the poet
lived?
As for living our servants can do that for us, Villiers de l'Isle has said.
Peeping and prying into greenroom gossip of the day, the poet's drinking,
the poet's debts. We have King Lear: and it is immortal.
190 |
PARMr Best's face, appealed to, agreed.
Flow over them with your waves and with your waters, Mananaan,
Mananaan MacLir ....
PARHow now, sirrah, that pound he lent you when you were hungry?
PARMarry, I wanted it.
PARTake thou this noble.
PARGo to! You spent most of it in Georgina Johnson's bed, clergyman's
daughter. Agenbite of inwit.
PARDo you intend to pay it back?
200 |
PARWhen? Now?
PARWell....No.
PARWhen, then?
PARI paid my way. I paid my way.
PARSteady on. He's from beyant Boyne water. The northeast corner. You
owe it.
PARWait. Five months. Molecules all change. I am other I now. Other I
got pound.
PARBuzz. Buzz.
PARBut I, entelechy, form of forms, am I by memory because under
210 |
PARI that sinned and prayed and fasted.
PARA child Conmee saved from pandies.
PARI, I and I. I.
PARA.E.I.O.U.
PARDo you mean to fly in the face of the tradition of three centuries? John
Eglinton's carping voice asked. Her ghost at least has been laid for ever.
She died, for literature at least, before she was born.
PARShe died, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she was born. She
saw
him into and out of the world. She took his first embraces. She bore his
220 |
PARMother's deathbed. Candle. The sheeted mirror. Who brought me PARI wept alone. PAR
into this world lies there, bronzelidded, under few cheap flowers. Liliata
rutilantium.
PARThe world believes that Shakespeare made a mistake, he said, and got
out
of it as quickly and as best he could.
PARBosh! Stephen said rudely. A man of genius makes no mistakes. His
230 |
PARPortals of discovery opened to let in the quaker librarian,
softcreakfooted, bald, eared and assiduous.
PARA shrew, John Eglinton said shrewdly, is not a useful portal of discovery,
one should imagine. What useful discovery did Socrates learn from
Xanthippe?
PARDialectic, Stephen answered: and from his mother how to bring thoughts
into the world. What he learnt from his other wife Myrto (absit nomen!),
Socratididion's Epipsychidion, no man, not a woman, will ever know. But
neither the midwife's lore nor the caudlelectures saved him from the
240 |
PARBut Ann Hathaway? Mr Best's quiet voice said forgetfully. Yes, we seem
to be forgetting her as Shakespeare himself forgot her.
PARHis look went from brooder's beard to carper's skull, to remind, to
chide them not unkindly, then to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless
though maligned.
PARHe had a good groatsworth of wit, Stephen said, and no truant memory.
He carried a memory in his wallet as he trudged to Romeville whistling
The
Girl I left behind me. If the earthquake did not time it we should
know
where to place poor Wat, sitting in his form, the cry of hounds, the studded
250 |
260 |
PARAnd my turn? When? PARCome! PAR
brightly.
PARHe murmured then with blond delight for all:
Between the acres of the rye
These pretty countryfolk would lie.
PARParis: the wellpleased pleaser. PAR
270
cooperative watch.
PARI am afraid I am due at the Homestead.
PARWhither away? Exploitable ground. PAR
at Moore's tonight? Piper is coming.
PARPiper! Mr Best piped. Is Piper back?
PARPeter Piper pecked a peck of pick of peck of pickled pepper. PAR
in time.
280 |
PARYogibogeybox in Dawson chambers. Isis Unveiled. Their Pali book
we tried to pawn. Crosslegged under an umbrel umbershoot he thrones an
Aztec logos, functioning on astral levels, their oversoul, mahamahatma.
The
faithful hermetists await the light, ripe for chelaship, ringroundabout
him.
Louis H. Victory. T. Caulfield Irwin. Lotus ladies tend them i'the eyes,
their
pineal glands aglow. Filled with his god, he thrones, Buddh under plantain.
Gulfer of souls, engulfer. Hesouls, shesouls, shoals of souls. Engulfed
with
wailing creecries, whirled, whirling, they bewail.
In quintessential triviality
For years in this fleshcase a shesoul dwelt.
290 |
PARThey say we are to have a literary surprise, the quaker librarian
said,
friendly and earnest. Mr Russell, rumour has it, is gathering together
a
sheaf of our younger poets' verses. We are all looking forward anxiously.
PARAnxiously he glanced in the cone of lamplight where three faces,
lighted, shone.
PARSee this. Remember. PAR PARListen. PARYoung Colum and Starkey. George Roberts is doing the commercial PARCordelia. Cordoglio. Lir's loneliest daughter. PARNookshotten. Now your best French polish. PAR
ashplanthandle over his knee. My casque and sword. Touch lightly with
two index fingers. Aristotle's experiment. One or two? Necessity is that
in
virtue of which it is impossible that one can be otherwise. Argal, one
hat is 300
one hat.
part. Longworth will give it a good puff in the Express. O, will
he? I liked
Colum's Drover. Yes, I think he has that queer thing genius. Do
you think
he has genius really? Yeats admired his line: As in wild earth a Grecian
vase. Did he? I hope you'll be able to come tonight. Malachi Mulligan
is
coming too. Moore asked him to bring Haines. Did you hear Miss
Mitchell's joke about Moore and Martyn? That Moore is Martyn's wild
oats? Awfully clever, isn't it? They remind one of Don Quixote and Sancho 310
Panza. Our national epic has yet to be written, Dr Sigerson says. Moore
is
the man for it. A knight of the rueful countenance here in Dublin. With
a
saffron kilt? O'Neill Russell? O, yes, he must speak the grand old tongue.
And his Dulcinea? James Stephens is doing some clever sketches. We are
becoming important, it seems.
kind as to give the letter to Mr Norman ...
320 |
PARO, yes. If he considers it important it will go in. We have so much
correspondence.
PARI understand, Stephen said. Thanks.
PARGod ild you. The pigs' paper. Bullockbefriending. PARSynge has promised me an article for Dana too. Are we going to be PAR
read? I feel we are. The Gaelic league wants something in Irish. I hope
you
will come round tonight. Bring Starkey.
PARThe quaker librarian came from the leavetakers. Blushing, his mask
said:
330 |
PARMr Dedalus, your views are most illuminating.
PARHe creaked to and fro, tiptoing up nearer heaven by the altitude of a
chopine, and, covered by the noise of outgoing, said low:
PARIs it your view, then, that she was not faithful to the poet?
PARAlarmed face asks me. Why did he come? Courtesy or an inward PAR
light?
sundering.
PARYes.
PARChristfox in leather trews, hiding, a runaway in blighted treeforks, PAR
from hue and cry. Knowing no vixen, walking lonely in the chase. Women 340
he won to him, tender people, a whore of Babylon, ladies of justices, bully
tapsters' wives. Fox and geese. And in New Place a slack dishonoured body
that once was comely, once as sweet, as fresh as cinnamon, now her leaves
falling, all, bare, frighted of the narrow grave and unforgiven.
PARThe door closed behind the outgoer.
PARRest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell, rest of warm and
brooding air.
PARA vestal's lamp. PARHere he ponders things that were not: what Caesar would have lived PARCoffined thoughts around me, in mummycases, embalmed in spice of PARThey are still. Once quick in the brains of men. Still: but an itch
of PAR
350
to do had he believed the soothsayer: what might have been: possibilities
of
the possible as possible: things not known: what name Achilles bore when
he lived among women.
words. Thoth, god of libraries, a birdgod, moonycrowned. And I heard the
voice of that Egyptian highpriest. In painted chambers loaded with
tilebooks.
death is in them, to tell me in my ear a maudlin tale, urge me to wreak
their
will. 360
We know nothing but that he lived and suffered. Not even so much. Others
abide our question. A shadow hangs over all the rest.
PARBut Hamlet is so personal, isn't it? Mr Best pleaded. I mean,
a kind of
private paper, don't you know, of his private life. I mean, I don't care
a
button, don't you know, who is killed or who is guilty ...
PARHe rested an innocent book on the edge of the desk, smiling his PAR
defiance. His private papers in the original. Ta an bad ar an tir. Taim
in mo
shagart. Put beurla on it, littlejohn.
370
PARI was prepared for paradoxes from what Malachi Mulligan told us but I
may as well warn you that if you want to shake my belief that Shakespeare
is Hamlet you have a stern task before you.
PARBear with me. PAR PAR
wrinkled brows. A basilisk. E quando vede l'uomo l'attosca. Messer
Brunetto, I thank thee for the word.
from day to day, their molecules shuttled to and fro, so does the artist
380 |
it was when I was born, though all my body has been woven of new stuff
time after time, so through the ghost of the unquiet father the image of
the
unliving son looks forth. In the intense instant of imagination, when the
mind, Shelley says, is a fading coal, that which I was is that which I
am and
that which in possibility I may come to be. So in the future, the sister
of the
past, I may see myself as I sit here now but by reflection from that which
then I shall be.
PARDrummond of Hawthornden helped you at that stile. PAR
390 |
PARHas the wrong sow by the lug. He is in my father. I am in his son. PAR
PARJohn Eglinton made a nothing pleasing mow.
PARIf that were the birthmark of genius, he said, genius would be a drug
in
the market. The plays of Shakespeare's later years which Renan admired
so
much breathe another spirit.
PARThe spirit of reconciliation, the quaker librarian breathed.
PARThere can be no reconciliation, Stephen said, if there has not been a
400 |
PARSaid that. PAR
hell of time of King Lear, Othello, Hamlet, Troilus and Cressida,
look to
see when and how the shadow lifts. What softens the heart of a man,
shipwrecked in storms dire, tried, like another Ulysses, Pericles, prince
of
Tyre?
PARHead, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded. PAR
PARThe leaning of sophists towards the bypaths of apocrypha is a constant
410 |
PARGood Bacon: gone musty. Shakespeare Bacon's wild oats.
Cypherjugglers going the highroads. Seekers on the great quest. What
town, good masters? Mummed in names: A. E., eon: Magee, John Eglinton.
East of the sun, west of the moon: Tir na n-og. Booted the twain
and
staved.
How many miles to Dublin?
Three score and ten, sir.
Will we be there by candlelight?
420 |
PARMr Brandes accepts it, Stephen said, as the first play of the closing
period.
PARDoes he? What does Mr Sidney Lee, or Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver
his name is, say of it?
PARMarina, Stephen said, a child of storm, Miranda, a wonder, Perdita, that
which was lost. What was lost is given back to him: his daughter's child.
My dearest wife, Pericles says, was like this maid. Will
any man love the
daughter if he has not loved the mother?
PARThe art of being a grandfather, Mr Best gan murmur. L'art d'tre
grandp .....
PARWill he not see reborn in her, with the memory of his own youth added,
430 |
PARDo you know what you are talking about? Love, yes. Word known to PAR
all men. Amor vero aliquid alicui bonum vult unde et ea quae
concupiscimus ...
all experience, material and moral. Such an appeal will touch him. The
images of other males of his blood will repel him. He will see in them
grotesque attempts of nature to foretell or to repeat himself.
PARThe benign forehead of the quaker librarian enkindled rosily with
hope.
440
PARI hope Mr Dedalus will work out his theory for the enlightenment of the
public. And we ought to mention another Irish commentator, Mr George
Bernard Shaw. Nor should we forget Mr Frank Harris. His articles on
Shakespeare in the Saturday Review were surely brilliant. Oddly
enough
he too draws for us an unhappy relation with the dark lady of the sonnets.
The favoured rival is William Herbert, earl of Pembroke. I own that if
the
poet must be rejected such a rejection would seem more in harmony with
-
what shall I say? - our notions of what ought not to have been.
PARFelicitously he ceased and held a meek head among them, auk's egg,
prize of their fray.
450
PARHe thous and thees her with grave husbandwords. Dost love, PAR
Miriam? Dost love thy man?
Magee likes to quote. Beware of what you wish for in youth because you
will get it in middle life. Why does he send to one who is a buonaroba,
a bay
where all men ride, a maid of honour with a scandalous girlhood, a lordling
to woo for him? He was himself a lord of language and had made himself
a
coistrel gentleman and he had written Romeo and Juliet. Why? Belief
in
himself has been untimely killed. He was overborne in a cornfield first
(a
ryefield, I should say) and he will never be a victor in his own eyes after
nor
460 |
PARThey list. And in the porches of their ears I pour. PAR
of a sleeping ear. But those who are done to death in sleep cannot know
the
470 |
manner of their quell unless their Creator endow their souls with that
knowledge in the life to come. The poisoning and the beast with two backs
that urged it King Hamlet's ghost could not know of were he not endowed
with knowledge by his creator. That is why the speech (his lean unlovely
English) is always turned elsewhere, backward. Ravisher and ravished,
what he would but would not, go with him from Lucrece's bluecircled ivory
globes to Imogen's breast, bare, with its mole cinquespotted. He goes back,
weary of the creation he has piled up to hide him from himself, an old
dog
licking an old sore. But, because loss is his gain, he passes on towards
eternity in undiminished personality, untaught by the wisdom he has
480 |
PARAmen! was responded from the doorway.
PARHast thou found me, O mine enemy? PAREntr'acte. PAR PAR
blithe in motley, towards the greeting of their smiles. My telegram.
Stephen. 490
PARPrimrosevested he greeted gaily with his doffed Panama as with a
bauble.
PARThey make him welcome. Was Du verlachst wirst Du noch dienen. PARBrood of mockers: Photius, pseudo Malachi, Johann Most. PARHe Who Himself begot middler the Holy Ghost and Himself sent PAR PARHe lifts his hands. Veils fall. O, flowers! Bells with bells with bells PAR PAR
Himself, Agenbuyer, between Himself and others, Who, put upon by His
fiends, stripped and whipped, was nailed like bat to barndoor, starved
on crosstree, Who let Him bury, stood up, harrowed hell, fared into heaven
and there these nineteen hundred years sitteth on the right hand of His
Own Self but yet shall come in the latter day to doom the quick and dead 500
when all the quick shall be dead already.
Glo
o--ri--a in ex--cel--sis De--o.
aquiring.
Mulligan, I'll be bound, has his theory too of the play and of Shakespeare.
All sides of life should be represented.
PARBuck Mulligan thought, puzzled.
510 |
PARShakespeare? he said. I seem to know the name.
PARA flying sunny smile rayed in his loose features.
PARTo be sure, he said, remembering brightly. The chap that writes like
Synge.
PARMr Best turned to him.
PARHaines missed you, he said. Did you meet him? He'll see you after at
the
D. B. C. He's gone to Gill's to buy Hyde's Lovesongs of Connacht.
PARI came through the museum, Buck Mulligan said. Was he here?
PARThe bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton answered, are rather tired
perhaps of our brilliancies of theorising. I hear that an actress played
520 |
PARThe most brilliant of all is that story of Wilde's, Mr Best said, lifting
his
brilliant notebook. That Portrait of Mr W. H. where he proves that
the
sonnets were written by a Willie Hughes, a man all hues.
PARFor Willie Hughes, is it not? the quaker librarian asked.
PAROr Hughie Wills? Mr William Himself. W. H.: who am I? PAR
530 |
PARHis glance touched their faces lightly as he smiled, a blond ephebe. PARYou're darned witty. Three drams of usquebaugh you drank with PARHow much did I spend? O, a few shillings. PARFor a plump of pressmen. Humour wet and dry. PARWit. You would give your five wits for youth's proud livery he pranks PARThere be many mo. Take her for me. In pairing time. Jove, a cool PAREve. Naked wheatbellied sin. A snake coils her, fang in's kiss. PAR
Tame essence of Wilde.
Dan Deasy's ducats.
in. Lineaments of gratified desire. 540
ruttime send them. Yea, turtledove her.
mocker is never taken seriously when he is most serious.
PARThey talked seriously of mocker's seriousness.
PARBuck Mulligan's again heavy face eyed Stephen awhile. Then, his
head wagging, he came near, drew a folded telegram from his pocket. His
mobile lips read, smiling with new delight.
550 |
PARTelegram! he said. Wonderful inspiration! Telegram! A papal bull!
PARHe sat on a corner of the unlit desk, reading aloud joyfully:
PARThe sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the
immense
debtorship for a thing done. Signed: Dedalus. Where did you launch
it
from? The kips? No. College Green. Have you drunk the four quid? The
aunt is going to call on your unsubstantial father. Telegram! Malachi
Mulligan, The Ship, lower Abbey street. O, you peerless mummer! O, you
priestified Kinchite!
PARJoyfully he thrust message and envelope into a pocket but keened in a
querulous brogue:
560
PARIt's what I'm telling you, mister honey, it's queer and sick we were,
Haines and myself, the time himself brought it in. 'Twas murmur we did
for
a gallus potion would rouse a friar, I'm thinking, and he limp with leching.
And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery's sitting civil
waiting for pints apiece.
PARHe wailed:
PARAnd we to be there, mavrone, and you to be unbeknownst sending us
your conglomerations the way we to have our tongues out a yard long like
the drouthy clerics do be fainting for a pussful.
PARStephen laughed.
570
PARQuickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan bent down.
PARThe tramper Synge is looking for you, he said, to murder you. He heard
you pissed on his halldoor in Glasthule. He's out in pampooties to murder
you.
PARMe! Stephen exclaimed. That was your contribution to literature.
PARBuck Mulligan gleefully bent back, laughing to the dark
eavesdropping ceiling.
PARMurder you! he laughed.
PARHarsh gargoyle face that warred against me over our mess of hash of PAR
lights in rue Saint Andre des Arts. In words of words for words, palabras.
Oisin with Patrick. Faunman he met in Clamart woods, brandishing a 580
winebottle. C'est vendredi saint! Murthering Irish. His image, wandering,
he met. I mine. I met a fool i'the forest.
PAR.....in which everyone can find his own. So Mr Justice Madden in his
Diary of Master William Silence has found the hunting terms....
Yes? What
is it?
PARThere's a gentleman here, sir, the attendant said, coming forward and
offering a card. From the Freeman. He wants to see the files of
the Kilkenny
People for last year.
590 |
PARCertainly, certainly, certainly. Is the gentleman......?
PARHe took the eager card, glanced, not saw, laid down unglanced,
looked, asked, creaked, asked:
PARIs he......? O, there!
PARBrisk in a galliard he was off, out. In the daylit corridor he talked
with voluble pains of zeal, in duty bound, most fair, most kind, most honest
broadbrim.
PARThis gentleman? Freeman's Journal? Kilkenny People? To be
sure. Good
day, sir. Kilkenny.... We have certainly....
PARA patient silhouette waited, listening.
600
PARAll the leading provincial.... Northern Whig, Cork Examiner,
Enniscorthy Guardian. Last year. 1903.... Will you please... Evans,
conduct this gentleman... If you just follow the atten.... Or, please allow
me.... This way... Please, sir....
PARVoluble, dutiful, he led the way to all the provincial papers, a bowing
dark figure following his hasty heels.
PARThe door closed.
PARThe sheeny! Buck Mulligan cried.
PARHe jumped up and snatched the card.
PARWhat's his name? Ikey Moses? Bloom.
610 |
PARHe rattled on:
PARJehovah, collector of prepuces, is no more. I found him over in the
museum where I went to hail the foamborn Aphrodite. The Greek mouth
that has never been twisted in prayer. Every day we must do homage to her.
Life of life, thy lips enkindle.
PARSuddenly he turned to Stephen:
PARHe knows you. He knows your old fellow. O, I fear me, he is Greeker
than the Greeks. His pale Galilean eyes were upon her mesial groove.
Venus Kallipyge. O, the thunder of those loins! The god pursuing the
maiden hid.
620
PARWe want to hear more, John Eglinton decided with Mr Best's approval.
We begin to be interested in Mrs S. Till now we had thought of her, if
at all,
as a patient Griselda, a Penelope stay-at-home.
PARAntisthenes, pupil of Gorgias, Stephen said, took the palm of beauty
from
Kyrios Menelaus' brooddam, Argive Helen, the wooden mare of Troy in
whom a score of heroes slept, and handed it to poor Penelope. Twenty years
he lived in London and, during part of that time, he drew a salary equal
to
that of the lord chancellor of Ireland. His life was rich. His art, more
than
the art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, is the art of surfeit.
Hot
herringpies, green mugs of sack, honeysauces, sugar of roses, marchpane,
630 |
640 |
Penelope Rich, a clean quality woman is suited for a player, and the
punks
of the bankside, a penny a time.
PARCours la Reine. Encore vingt sous. Nous ferons de petites cochonneries. PAR
Minette? Tu veux?
with her cup of canary for any cockcanary.
PARBuck Mulligan, his pious eyes upturned, prayed:
PARBlessed Margaret Mary Anycock!
PARAnd Harry of six wives' daughter. And other lady friends from
650 |
PARDo and do. Thing done. In a rosery of Fetter lane of Gerard, PAR
herbalist, he walks, greyedauburn. An azured harebell like her veins. Lids
of Juno's eyes, violets. He walks. One life is all. One body. Do. But do.
Afar, in a reek of lust and squalor, hands are laid on whiteness.
PARWhom do you suspect? he challenged.
PARSay that he is the spurned lover in the sonnets. Once spurned twice
660 |
PARLove that dare not speak its name. PAR
lord.
PAROld wall where sudden lizards flash. At Charenton I watched them. PAR
and singular uneared wombs, the holy office an ostler does for the stallion.
Maybe, like Socrates, he had a midwife to mother as he had a shrew to wife.
But she, the giglot wanton, did not break a bedvow. Two deeds are rank
in
that ghost's mind: a broken vow and the dullbrained yokel on whom her
670 |
PARStephen turned boldly in his chair.
PARThe burden of proof is with you not with me, he said frowning. If you
deny that in the fifth scene of Hamlet he has branded her with infamy
tell
me why there is no mention of her during the thirtyfour years between the
day she married him and the day she buried him. All those women saw their
men down and under: Mary, her goodman John, Ann, her poor dear
Willun, when he went and died on her, raging that he was the first to go,
Joan, her four brothers, Judith, her husband and all her sons, Susan, her
680 |
PARHe faced their silence.
To whom thus Eglinton: You mean the will.
But that has been explained, I believe, by jurists.
She was entitled to her widow's dower
690 |
700 |
PARPunkt.
710 |
PARWoa! PAR
have still if our peasant plays are true to type.
PARHe was a rich country gentleman, Stephen said, with a coat of arms and
landed estate at Stratford and a house in Ireland yard, a capitalist
shareholder, a bill promoter, a tithefarmer. Why did he not leave her his
best bed if he wished her to snore away the rest of her nights in peace?
PARIt is clear that there were two beds, a best and a secondbest, Mr
Secondbest Best said finely.
PARSeparatio a mensa et a thalamo, bettered Buck Mulligan and was
smiled
on. 720
PARAntiquity mentions famous beds, Second Eglinton puckered, bedsmiling.
Let me think.
PARAntiquity mentions that Stagyrite schoolurchin and bald heathen sage,
Stephen said, who when dying in exile frees and endows his slaves, pays
tribute to his elders, wills to be laid in earth near the bones of his
dead wife
and bids his friends be kind to an old mistress (don't forget Nell Gwynn
Herpyllis) and let her live in his villa.
PARDo you mean he died so? Mr Best asked with slight concern. I mean
....
PARHe died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan capped. A quart of ale is a dish
for a
king. O, I must tell you what Dowden said! 730
PARWhat? asked Besteglinton.
PARWilliam Shakespeare and company, limited. The people's William. PAR
For terms apply: E. Dowden, Highfield house ....
of the charge of pederasty brought against the bard. He lifted his hands
and
said: All we can say is that life ran very high in those days. Lovely!
PARCatamite. PAR
Eglinton.
740
PARSteadfast John replied severe:
PARThe doctor can tell us what those words mean. You cannot eat your cake
and have it.
PARSayest thou so? Will they wrest from us, from me, the palm of beauty? PAR
long pocket. The son of a maltjobber and moneylender he was himself a
cornjobber and moneylender, with ten tods of corn hoarded in the famine
riots. His borrowers are no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by
Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. He sued a
fellowplayer for the price of a few bags of malt and exacted his pound
of
750 |
760 |
PARI think you're getting on very nicely. Just mix up a mixture of PAR
theolologicophilolological. Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere.
studies holds he was a holy Roman.
PARSufflaminandus sum. PAR
770 |
PARA myriadminded man, Mr Best reminded. Coleridge called him
myriadminded.
PARAmplius. In societate humana hoe est maxime necessarium ut sit PAR
amicitia inter multos.
PAROra pro nobis, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a chair.
PARThere he keened a wailing rune:
PARPogue mahone! Acushla machree! It's destroyed we are from this
day! It's
destroyed we are surely!
780 |
PARAll smiled their smiles.
PARSaint Thomas, Stephen smiling said, whose gorbellied works I enjoy
reading in the original, writing of incest from a standpoint different
from
that of the new Viennese school Mr Magee spoke of, likens it in his wise
and
curious way to an avarice of the emotions. He means that the love so given
to one near in blood is covetously withheld from some stranger who, it
may
be, hungers for it. Jews, whom christians tax with avarice, are of all
races
the most given to intermarriage. Accusations are made in anger. The
christian laws which built up the hoards of the jews (for whom, as for
the
lollards, storm was shelter) bound their affections too with hoops of steel.
790 |
PAROr his jennyass, Buck Mulligan antiphoned.
PARGentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best said gently.
PARWhich will? gagged sweetly Buck Mulligan. We are getting mixed.
PARThe will to live, John Eglinton philosophised, for poor Ann, Will's
widow, is the will to die.
800 |
PARRequiescat! Stephen prayed.
What of all the will to do?
It has vanished long ago ...
PARShe lies laid out in stark stiffness in that secondbest bed, the mobled
queen, even though you prove that a bed in those days was as rare as a
motorcar is now and that its carvings were the wonder of seven parishes.
In
old age she takes up with gospellers (one stayed with her at New Place
and
drank a quart of sack the town council paid for but in which bed he slept
it
skills not to ask) and heard she had a soul. She read or had read to her
his
chapbooks preferring them to the Merry Wives and, loosing her nightly
810 |
PARHistory shows that to be true, inquit Eglintonus Chronolologos.
The ages
succeed one another. But we have it on high authority that a man's worst
enemies shall be those of his own house and family. I feel that Russell
is
right. What do we care for his wife or father? I should say that only
family
poets have family lives. Falstaff was not a family man. I feel that the
fat
knight is his supreme creation.
820 |
PARLean, he lay back. Shy, deny thy kindred, the unco guid. Shy, supping PARYour own? He knows your old fellow. The widower. PARHurrying to her squalid deathlair from gay Paris on the quayside I PAR
with the godless, he sneaks the cup. A sire in Ultonian Antrim bade it
him.
Visits him here on quarter days. Mr Magee, sir, there's a gentleman to
see
you. Me? Says he's your father, sir. Give me my Wordsworth. Enter Magee
Mor Matthew, a rugged rough rugheaded kern, in strossers with a buttoned
codpiece, his nether stocks bemired with clauber of ten forests, a wand
of
wilding in his hand.
touched his hand. The voice, new warmth, speaking. Dr Bob Kenny is
attending her. The eyes that wish me well. But do not know me. 830
He wrote the play in the months that followed his father's death. If you
hold that he, a greying man with two marriageable daughters, with
thirtyfive years of life, nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, with
fifty of
experience, is the beardless undergraduate from Wittenberg then you must
hold that his seventyyear old mother is the lustful queen. No. The corpse
of
John Shakespeare does not walk the night. From hour to hour it rots and
rots. He rests, disarmed of fatherhood, having devised that mystical estate
upon his son. Boccaccio's Calandrino was the first and last man who felt
840 |
PARWhat the hell are you driving at? PARI know. Shut up. Blast you. I have reasons. PARAmplius. Adhuc. Iterum. Postea. PARAre you condemned to do this? PAR
850
of the world, stained with all other incests and bestialities, hardly record
its
breach. Sons with mothers, sires with daughters, lesbic sisters, loves
that
dare not speak their name, nephews with grandmothers, jailbirds with
keyholes, queens with prize bulls. The son unborn mars beauty: born, he
brings pain, divides affection, increases care. He is a new male: his growth
is his father's decline, his youth his father's envy, his friend his father's
860 |
PARIn rue Monsieur le Prince I thought it. PAR
PARAm I a father? If I were? PARShrunken uncertain hand. PAR
that the Father was Himself His Own Son. The bulldog of Aquin, with
whom no word shall be impossible, refutes him. Well: if the father who
has
not a son be not a father can the son who has not a father be a son? When
Rutlandbaconsouthamptonshakespeare or another poet of the same name
870 |
PAREglintoneyes, quick with pleasure, looked up shybrightly. Gladly
glancing, a merry puritan, through the twisted eglantine.
PARFlatter. Rarely. But flatter. PAR
child. I have an unborn child in my brain. Pallas Athena! A play! The
880 |
PARHe clasped his paunchbrow with both birthaiding hands.
PARAs for his family, Stephen said, his mother's name lives in the forest
of
Arden. Her death brought from him the scene with Volumnia in
Coriolanus. His boyson's death is the deathscene of young Arthur
in King
John. Hamlet, the black prince, is Hamnet Shakespeare. Who the girls
in
The Tempest, in Pericles, in Winter's Tale are we
know. Who Cleopatra,
fleshpot of Egypt, and Cressid and Venus are we may guess. But there is
another member of his family who is recorded.
PARThe plot thickens, John Eglinton said.
890
PARThe quaker librarian, quaking, tiptoed in, quake, his mask, quake,
with haste, quake, quack.
PARDoor closed. Cell. Day. PARThey list. Three. They. PARI you he they. PARCome, mess.
STEPHEN
He had three brothers, Gilbert, Edmund, Richard. Gilbert in his old
age
told some cavaliers he got a pass for nowt from Maister Gatherer one time
mass he did and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in Lunnon
900 |
MAGEEGLINJOHN
Names! What's in a name?
BEST
That is my name, Richard, don't you know. I hope you are going to say
a
good word for Richard, don't you know, for my sake.
(laughter)
910 |
(piano, diminuendo)
Then outspoke medical Dick
To his comrade medical Davy ...
STEPHEN
In his trinity of black Wills, the villain shakebags, Iago, Richard
Crookback, Edmund in King Lear, two bear the wicked uncles' names.
Nay, that last play was written or being written while his brother Edmund
lay dying in Southwark.
BEST
920 |
(laughter)
QUAKERLYSTER
(a tempo) But he that filches from me my good name .....
STEPHEN
(stringendo) He has hidden his own name, a fair name, William,
in the
plays, a super here, a clown there, as a painter of old Italy set his face
in a
dark corner of his canvas. He has revealed it in the sonnets where there
is
Will in overplus. Like John o'Gaunt his name is dear to him, as dear as
the
coat and crest he toadied for, on a bend sable a spear or steeled argent,
930 |
PARBoth satisfied. I too. PARDon't tell them he was nine years old when it was quenched. PARAnd from her arms. PARWait to be wooed and won. Ay, meacock. Who will woo you? PARRead the skies. Autontimorumenos. Bous Stephanoumenos. Where's PAR
940
your configuration? Stephen, Stephen, cut the bread even. S. D: sua
donna.
Gia: di lui. Gelindo risolve di non amare S. D.
phenomenon?
PARA star by night, Stephen said. A pillar of the cloud by day.
PAR
What more's to speak? PAR
950
PAR
Stephanos, my crown. My sword. His boots are spoiling the shape
of PAR
my feet. Buy a pair. Holes in my socks. Handkerchief too.
is strange enough. I suppose it explains your fantastical humour.
PARMe, Magee and Mulligan. PARFabulous artificer. The hawklike man. You flew. Whereto? PAR
Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger. Paris and back. Lapwing. Icarus.
Pater, ait. Seabedabbled, fallen, weltering. Lapwing you are. Lapwing
be.
960
PARThat's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know,
we
find also in the old Irish myths. Just what you say. The three brothers
Shakespeare. In Grimm too, don't you know, the fairytales. The third
brother that always marries the sleeping beauty and wins the best prize.
PARBest of Best brothers. Good, better, best. PAR
PARI should like to know, he said, which brother you I understand you to
suggest there was misconduct with one of the brothers But perhaps I am
anticipating?
PARHe caught himself in the act: looked at all: refrained.
970
PARAn attendant from the doorway called:
PARMr Lyster! Father Dineen wants ...
PARO, Father Dineen! Directly.
PARSwiftly rectly creaking rectly rectly he was rectly gone.
PARJohn Eglinton touched the foil.
PARCome, he said. Let us hear what you have to say of Richard and
Edmund. You kept them for the last, didn't you?
PARIn asking you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie and
nuncle Edmund, Stephen answered, I feel I am asking too much perhaps. A
brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.
980 |
PARLapwing. PARWhere is your brother? Apothecaries' hall. My whetstone. Him, then PARLapwing. PARI am tired of my voice, the voice of Esau. My kingdom for a drink. PAROn. PAR
Cranly, Mulligan: now these. Speech, speech. But act. Act speech. They
mock to try you. Act. Be acted on.
took the stuff of his plays. Why did he take them rather than others?
Richard, a whoreson crookback, misbegotten, makes love to a widowed
990 |
PARThat was Will's way, John Eglinton defended. We should not now
combine a Norse saga with an excerpt from a novel by George Meredith.
Que voulez-vous? Moore would say. He puts Bohemia on the seacoast
and
1000 |
PARWhy? Stephen answered himself. Because the theme of the false or the
usurping or the adulterous brother or all three in one is to Shakespeare,
what the poor are not, always with him. The note of banishment,
banishment from the heart, banishment from home, sounds uninterruptedly
from The Two Gentlemen of Verona onward till Prospero breaks his
staff,
buries it certain fathoms in the earth and drowns his book. It doubles
itself
in the middle of his life, reflects itself in another, repeats itself,
protasis,
epitasis, catastasis, catastrophe. It repeats itself again when he is near
the
grave, when his married daughter Susan, chip of the old block, is accused
1010 |
1020 |
PARHe laughed to free his mind from his mind's bondage.
PARJudge Eglinton summed up.
PARThe truth is midway, he affirmed. He is the ghost and the prince. He
is all
in all.
PARHe is, Stephen said. The boy of act one is the mature man of act five.
All
in all. In Cymbeline, in Othello he is bawd and cuckold.
He acts and is
acted on. Lover of an ideal or a perversion, like Jose he kills the real
Carmen. His unremitting intellect is the hornmad Iago ceaselessly willing
that the moor in him shall suffer.
PARCuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuck Mulligan clucked lewdly. O word of fear!
1030 |
PARDark dome received, reverbed.
PARAnd what a character is Iago! undaunted John Eglinton exclaimed.
When all is said Dumas Fils (or is it Dumas pre ?) is right.
After God
Shakespeare has created most.
PARMan delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said. He returns after
a life of absence to that spot of earth where he was born, where he has
always been, man and boy, a silent witness and there, his journey of life
ended, he plants his mulberrytree in the earth. Then dies. The motion is
ended. Gravediggers bury Hamlet pre and Hamlet fils. A king
and a
prince at last in death, with incidental music. And, what though murdered
1040 |
1050 |
PAREureka! Buck Mulligan cried. Eureka!
PARSuddenly happied he jumped up and reached in a stride John
Eglinton's desk.
1060
PARMay I? he said. The Lord has spoken to Malachi.
PARHe began to scribble on a slip of paper.
PARTake some slips from the counter going out. PAR
live. The rest shall keep as they are.
PARHe laughed, unmarried, at Eglinton Johannes, of arts a bachelor.
PARUnwed, unfancied, ware of wiles, they fingerponder nightly each his
variorum edition of The Taming of the Shrew.
PARYou are a delusion, said roundly John Eglinton to Stephen.
You have
brought us all this way to show us a French triangle. Do you believe your
1070 |
PARNo, Stephen said promptly.
PARAre you going to write it? Mr Best asked. You ought to make it a
dialogue, don't you know, like the Platonic dialogues Wilde wrote.
PARJohn Eclecticon doubly smiled.
PARWell, in that case, he said, I don't see why you should expect payment
for
it since you don't believe it yourself. Dowden believes there is some mystery
in Hamlet but will say no more. Herr Bleibtreu, the man Piper met
in
Berlin, who is working up that Rutland theory, believes that the secret
is
hidden in the Stratford monument. He is going to visit the present duke,
1080 |
PAR
I believe, O Lord, help my unbelief. That is, help me to believe or help PAR
me to unbelieve? Who helps to believe? Egomen. Who to unbelieve?
Other
chap.
I don't know about the next number. Fred Ryan wants space for an article
on economics.
PAR
Fraidrine. Two pieces of silver he lent me. Tide you over. Economics. PAR
1090 |
PARBuck Mulligan stood up from his laughing scribbling, laughing: and
then gravely said, honeying malice:
PARI called upon the bard Kinch at his summer residence in upper
Mecklenburgh street and found him deep in the study of the Summa contra
Gentiles in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie,
the coalquay whore.
PARHe broke away.
PARCome, Kinch. Come, wandering Aengus of the birds.
PAR
Come, Kinch. You have eaten all we left. Ay. I will serve you your orts PAR
and offals.
1100
PARLife is many days. This will end. PAR
Malachi Mulligan must be there.
PARBuck Mulligan flaunted his slip and panama.
PARMonsieur Moore, he said, lecturer on French letters to the youth of
Ireland. I'll be there. Come, Kinch, the bards must drink. Can you walk
straight?
PARLaughing, he....
PARSwill till eleven. Irish nights entertainment. PARLubber .... PAR
1110
PAROne day in the national library we had a discussion. Shakes. After. PAR
His lub back: I followed. I gall his kibe.
wellkempt head, newbarbered, out of the vaulted cell into a shattering
daylight of no thought.
PAR
What have I learned? Of them? Of me? PARWalk like Haines now.
PAR
O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell parafes his polysyllables. Item: was 1120
Hamlet mad? The quaker's pate godlily with a priesteen in booktalk.
PARO please do, sir...I shall be most pleased
PARAmused Buck Mulligan mused in pleasant murmur with himself,
selfnodding:
PARA pleased bottom.
PARThe turnstile.
PARIs that...? Blueribboned hat...? Idly writing...? What? .... Looked...? PAR PAR
PARHe spluttered to the air:
PARO, the chinless Chinaman! Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton. We went over to their
playbox, Haines and I, the plumbers' hall. Our players are creating a new
art for Europe like the Greeks or M. Maeterlinck. Abbey Theatre! I smell
the pubic sweat of monks.
PARHe spat blank.
PARForgot: any more than he forgot the whipping lousy Lucy gave him. PARAfterwit. Go back. PARThe dour recluse still there (he has his cake) and the douce youngling, PAREh ... I just eh .... wanted ... I forgot ... eh ... PAR
And left the femme de trente ans. And why no other children born?
And his
first child a girl? 1140
minion of pleasure, Phedo's toyable fair hair.
PARPuck Mulligan footed featly, trilling:
PARI hardly hear the purlieu cry
Or a Tommy talk as I pass one by
Before my thoughts begin to run
On F. M'Curdy Atkinson, 1150
The same that had the wooden leg
And that filibustering filibeg
That never dared to slake his drouth,
Magee that had the chinless mouth.
Being afraid to marry on earth
They masturbated for all they were worth.
PARJest on. Know thyself. PARHalted, below me, a quizzer looks at me. I halt. PAR
1160 |
PARA laugh tripped over his lips.
PARLongworth is awfully sick, he said, after what you wrote about that old
hake Gregory. O you inquisitional drunken jewjesuit! She gets you a job
on
the paper and then you go and slate her drivel to Jaysus. Couldn't
you do
the Yeats touch?
PARHe went on and down, mopping, chanting with waving graceful
arms:
PARThe most beautiful book that has come out of our country in my time.
One thinks of Homer.
1170 |
PARHe stopped at the stairfoot.
PARI have conceived a play for the mummers, he said solemnly.
PARThe pillared Moorish hall, shadows entwined. Gone the nine men's PAR
morrice with caps of indices.
PAREveryman His Own Wife
or
A Honeymoon in the Hand
(a national immorality in three orgasms)
by
1180 |
PARHe turned a happy patch's smirk to Stephen, saying:
PARThe disguise, I fear, is thin. But listen.
PARHe read, marcato:
PARCharacters:
TOBY TOSTOFF (a ruined Pole)
CRAB (a bushranger)
MEDICAL DICK
and (two birds with one stone)
MEDICAL DAVY
MOTHER GROGAN (a watercarrier) 1190
FRESH NELLY
and
ROSALIE (the coalquay whore).
PARHe laughed, lolling a to and fro head, walking on, followed by
Stephen : and mirthfully he told the shadows, souls of men:
PARO, the night in the Camden hall when the daughters of Erin had to lift
their skirts to step over you as you lay in your mulberrycoloured,
multicoloured, multitudinous vomit!
PARThe most innocent son of Erin, Stephen said, for whom they ever lifted
1200 |
PARAbout to pass through the doorway, feeling one behind, he stood
aside.
PARPart. The moment is now. Where then? If Socrates leave his house PARMy will: his will that fronts me. Seas between.
PAR
today, if Judas go forth tonight. Why? That lies in space which I in time
must come to, ineluctably.
PARGood day again, Buck Mulligan said.
1210 |
PARHere I watched the birds for augury. Aengus of the birds. They go, PAR
they come. Last night I flew. Easily flew. Men wondered. Street of harlots
after. A creamfruit melon he held to me. In. You will see.
see his eye? He looked upon you to lust after you. I fear thee, ancient
mariner. O, Kinch, thou art in peril. Get thee a breechpad.
PARManner of Oxenford. PARDay. Wheelbarrow sun over arch of bridge. PAR
gateway, under portcullis barbs.
1220
PARThey followed.
PAROffend me still. Speak on. PAR
from the housetops two plumes of smoke ascended, pluming, and in a flaw
of softness softly were blown.
PARCease to strive. Peace of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic:
from wide earth an altar.
Laud we the gods
And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils
From our bless'd altars.
1230 |