Complete Works of James Joyce (211 page)

And they pled him beheighten the firing. Dope.

Maltomeetim, alltomatetam, when a tale tarries shome shunter shove on. Fore auld they wauld to pree.

Pray.

Of this Mr A (tillalaric) and these wasch woman (dapple-hued), fhronehflord and feeofeeds, who had insue keen and able and a spindlesong aside, nothing more is told until now, his awebrume hour, her sere Sahara of sad oakleaves. And then. Be old. The next thing is. We are once amore as babes awondering in a wold made fresh where with the hen in the storyaboot we start from scratch.

So the truce, the old truce and nattonbuff the truce, boys. Drouth is stronger than faction. Slant. Shinshin. Shinshin.

 
— It was of The Grant, old gartener, qua golden meddlist, Publius Manlius, fuderal private, (his place is his poster, sure, they said, and we’re going to mark it, sore, they said, with a carbon caustick manner) bequother the liberaloider at his petty corpore-lezzo that hung caughtnapping from his baited breath, it was of him, my wife and I thinks, to feel to every of the younging fruits, tenderosed like an atalantic’s breastswells or, on a second wreathing, a bright tauth bight shimmeryshaking for the welt of his plow. And wher-o the peckadillies at his wristsends meetings be loving so lightly dovessoild the candidacy, me wipin eye sinks, of his softboiled bosom should be apparient even to our illicterate of nullatinenties.

All to which not a lot snapped The Nolan of the Calabashes at his whilom eweheart photognomist who by this sum taken was as much incensed by Saint Bruno as that what he had consummed was his own panegoric, and wot a lout about it if it was only a pippappoff pigeon shoot that gracesold getrunner, the man of centuries, was bowled out by judge, jury and umpire at batman’s biff like a witchbefooled legate. Dupe.

His almonence being alaterelly in dispensation with his three oldher patrons’ aid, providencer’s divine cow to milkfeeding mleckman, bonafacies to solafides, what matter what all his freudzay or who holds his hat to harm him, let hutch just keep on under at being a vanished consinent and let annapal livibel prettily prattle a lude all her own. And be that semeliminal salmon solemonly angled, ingate and outgate. A truce to lovecalls, dulled in warclothes, maleybags, things and bleakhusen. Leave the letter that never begins to go find the latter that ever comes to end, written in smoke and blurred by mist and signed of solitude, sealed at night.

Simply. As says the mug in the middle, nay brian nay noel, ney billy ney boney. Imagine twee cweamy wosen. Suppwose you get a beautiful thought and cull them sylvias sub silence. Then inmaggin a stotterer. Suppoutre him to been one bigger-master Omnibil. Then lustily (tutu the font and tritt on the boks — woods like gay feeters’s dance) immengine up to three longly lurking lobstarts. Fair instents the Will Woolsley Wellaslayers. Pet her, pink him, play pranks with them. She will nod ampro-perly smile. He may seem to appraisiate it. They are as piractical jukersmen sure to paltipsypote. Feel the wollies drippeling out of your fingathumbs. Says to youssilves (floweers have ears, heahear!) solowly: So these ease Budlim! How do, dainty dau-limbs? So peached to pick on you in this way, prue and simple, pritt and spry! Heyday too, Malster Faunagon, and hopes your hahititahiti licks the mankey nuts! And oodlum hoodlum dood-lum to yes, Donn, Teague and Hurleg, who the bullocks brought you here and how the hillocks are ye?

We want Bud. We want Bud Budderly. We want Bud Budderly boddily. There he is in his Borrisalooner. The man that shunned the rucks on Gereland. The man thut won the bettlle of the bawll. Order, order, order, order! And tough. We call on Tan-cred Artaxerxes Flavin to compeer with Barnabas Ulick Dunne. Order, order, order! Milster Malster in the chair. We’ve heard it sinse sung thousandtimes. How Burghley shuck the rackushant Germanon. For Ehren, boys, gobrawl!

A public plouse. Citizen soldiers.

TAFF (a smart boy, of the peat freers, thirty two eleven, looking through the roof towards a relevution of the karmalife order privious to his hoisting of an emergency umberolum in byway of paraguastical solation to the rhyttel in his hedd). All was flashing and krashning blurty moriartsky blutcherudd? What see, buttywalch? Tell ever so often?

BUTT (mottledged youth, clergical appealance, who, as his pied friar, is supposing to motto the sorry dejester in tifftaff toffiness or to be digarced from ever and a daye in his accounts). But da. But dada, mwilshsuni. Till even so aften. Sea vaast a pool !

TAFF (porumptly helping himself out by the cesspull with a yellup yurrup, puts up his furry furzed hare). Butly bitly ! Humme to our mounthings. Conscribe him tillusk, unt, in his jubalant tubalence, the groundsapper, with his soilday site out on his moulday side in. The gubernier-gerenal in laut-lievtonant of Baltiskeeamore, amaltheouse for leporty hole! Endues paramilintary langdwage. The saillils of the yellavs nocadont palignol urdlesh. Shelltoss and welltass and telltuss aghom! Sling Stranaslang, how Malo-razzias spikes her, coining a speak a spake! Not the Setanik stuff that slimed soft Siranouche! The goot old gunshop monowards for manosymples. Tincurs tammit! They did oak hay doe fou Chang-il-meng when that man d’airain was big top tom saw tip side bum boss pageantfiller. Ajaculate! All lea light! Rassamble the glowrings of Bruyant the Bref when the Mollies Makehal-pence took his leg for his thumb. And may he be too an intrepida — tion of our dreams which we foregot at wiking when the mom hath razed out limpalove and the bleakfrost chilled our ravery! Pook. Sing ching lew mang! Upgo, bobbycop! Lets hear in remember the braise of Hold!

BUTT (drawling forth from his blousom whereis meditabound of his minkerstary, switches on his gorsecopper’s fling weitoheito lang-thorn, fed up the grain oils of Aerin, while his laugh neighs banck as that flashermind’s rays and his lipponease longuewedge wambles). Ullahbluh ! Sehyoh narar, pokehole sann ! Manhead very dirty by am anoyato. Like old Dolldy Icon when he cooked up his iggs in bicon. He gatovit and me gotafit and Oalgoak’s Cheloven gut a fudden. Povar old pitschobed! Molodeztious of metchennacht belaburt that pentschmyaso! Bog carsse and dam neat, sar, gam cant! Limbers affront of him, lumbers behund. While the bucks bite his dos his hart bides the ros till the bounds of his bays bell the warning. Sobaiter sobarkar. He was enmivallupped. Chro-mean fastion. With all his cannoball wappents. In his raglanrock and his malakoiffed bulbsbyg and his varnashed roscians and his cardigans blousejagged and his scarlett manchokuffs and his tree-coloured camiflag and his perikopendolous gaelstorms. Here weeks hire pulchers! Obriania’s beromst! From Karrs and Polikoff’s, the men’s confessioners. Seval shimars pleasant time payings. Mousoumeselles buckwoulds look. Tenter and likelings.

TAFF (all Perssiasterssias shookatnaratatattar at his waggon-horchers, his bulgeglarying stargapers razzledazzlingly full of eyes, full of balls, full of holes, full of buttons, full of stains, full of medals, full of blickblackblobs). Grozarktic! Toadlebens! Some garment-guy! Insects appalling, low hum clang sin! A cheap decoy! Too deep destroy! Say mangraphique, may say nay por daguerre!

BUTT (if that he hids foregodden has nate of glozery farused ameet the florahs of the follest, his spent fish’s livid smile giving allasundery the bumfit of the doped). Come alleyou jupes of Wymmingtown that graze the calves of Man ! A bear raigning in his heavenspawn consomation robes. Rent, outraged, yewleaved, grained, bal-looned, hindergored and voluant! Erminia’s capecloaked hoo — doodman! First he s s st steppes. Then he st stoo stoopt. Lookt.

TAFF (strick struck strangling like aleal lusky Lubliner to merum-ber by the cycl of the cruize who strungled Attahilloupa with what empoisoned El Monte de Zuma and failing wilnaynilnay that he was pallups barn in the minkst of the Krumlin befodt he was pop-soused into the monkst of the vatercan, makes the holypolygon of the emt on the greaseshaper, a little farther, a little soon, a lettera- cettera, oukraydoubray). Scutterer of guld, he is retourious on every roudery! The lyewdsky so so sewn of a fitchid! With his walshbrushup. And his boney bogey braggs.

BUTT (after his tongues in his cheeks, with pinkpoker pointing out in rutene to impassible abjects beyond the mistomist towards Lissnaluhy such as the Djublian Alps and the Hoofd Ribeiro as where he and his trulock may ever make a game). The field of karhags and that bloasted tree. Forget not the felled! For the lomondations of Oghrem! Warful doon’s bothem. Here furry glunn. Nye? Their feery pass. Tak! With guerillaman aspear aspoor to prink the pranks of primkissies. And the buddies be-hide in the byre. Allahblah !

TAFF (a blackseer, he stroves to regulect all the straggles for wife in the rut of the past through the widnows in effigies keening after the blank sheets in their faminy to the relix of oll decency from over draught). Oh day of rath! Ah, murther of mines! Eh, selo moy! Uh, zulu luy! Bernesson Mac Mahahon from Osro bearing nose easger for sweeth prolettas on his swooth prowl!

BUTT (back to his peatrol and paump: swee Gee’s wee rest: no more applehooley: dodewodedook). Bruinoboroff, the hooney-moonger, and the grizzliest manmichal in Meideveide! Whose annal livves the hoiest! For he devoused the lelias on the fined and he conforted samp, tramp and marchint out of the drumbume of a narse. Guards, serf Finnland, serve we all !

TAFF (whatwidth the psychophannies at the front and whetwadth the psuckofumbers beholden the fair, illcertain, between his bulchri-chudes and the roshashanaral, where he sees Bishop Ribboncake plus his pollex prized going forth on his visitations of mirrage or Miss Horizon, justso all our fannacies daintied her, on the curve of the camber, unsheathing a showlaced limbaloft to the great consternations). Divulge! Hyededye, kittyls, and howdeddoh, pan! Poshbott and pulbuties. See that we soll or let dargman be luna as strait a way as your ant’s folly me line while ye post is goang from Piping Pubwirth to Haunted Hillborough on his Mujiksy’s Zaravence, the Riss, the Ross, the sur of all Russers, as my farst is near to hear and my sackend is meet to sedon while my whole’s a peer’s aureolies. We should say you dones the polecad. Bang on the booche, gurg in the gorge, rap on the roof and your flup is unbu...

BUTT (at the signal of his act which seems to sharpnel his innermals menody, playing the spool of the little brown jog round the wheel of her whang goes the millner). Buckily buckily, blodestained boyne! Bimbambombumb. His snapper was shot in the Rumjar Journaral. Why the gigls he lubbed beeyed him.

TAFF (obliges with a two stop yogacoga sumphoty on the bones or ivory girl and ebony boy). The balacleivka! Trovatarovitch! I trumble!

BUTT (with the sickle of a scygthe but the humour of a hummer, O, howorodies through his cholaroguled, fumfing to a fullfrength with this wallowing olfact). Mortar martar tartar wartar! May his boules grow wider so his skittles gets worse! The aged monad making a venture out of the murder of investment. I seen him acting surgent what betwinks the scimitar star and the ashen moon. By their lights shalthow throw him! Piff paff for puffpuff and my pife for his cgar ! The mlachy way for gambling.

[Up to this curkscraw bind an admirable verbivocovisual pre-sentment of the worldrenownced Caerholme Event has been being

given by The Irish Race and World. The huddled and aliven stable-crashers have shared fleetfooted enthusiasm with the paddocks

dare and ditches tare while the mews was combing ground. Hippo-hopparray helioscope flashed winsor places as the gates might see.

Meusdeus! That was (with burning briar) Mr Twomass Noho-holan for their common contribe satisfunction in the purports of

amusedment telling the Verily Roverend Father Epiphanes

shrineshriver of Saint Dhorough’s (in browne bomler) how

(assuary as there’s a bonum in your osstheology!) Backlegs

shirked the racing kenneldar. The saintly scholarist’s roastering

guffalawd of nupersaturals holler at this metanoic excomologosis

tells of the chestnut’s (once again, Wittyngtom!) absolutionally

romptyhompty successfulness. A lot of lasses and lads without

damas or dads, but fresh and blued with collecting boxes. One

aught spare ores triflets, to be shut: it is Coppingers for the

children. Slippery Sam hard by them, physically present how-

somedever morally absent, was slooching about in his knavish

diamonds asking Gmax, Knox and the Dmuggies (a pinnance for

your toughts, turffers!) to deck the ace of duds. Tomtinker Tim,

howbeit, his unremitting retainer, (the seers are the seers of

Samael but the heers are the heers of Timoth) is in Boozer’s

Gloom, soalken steady in his sulken tents. Baldawl the curse,

baledale the day! And the frocks of shick sheeples in their shum-mering insamples! You see: a chiefsmith, semperal scandal

stinkmakers, a middinest from the Casabianca and, of course,

Mr Fry. Barass! Pardon the inquisition, causas es quostas?

It is Da Valorem’s Dominical Brayers. Why coif that weird