Complete Works of James Joyce (231 page)

 
— Tris tris a ni ma mea.! Prisoner of Love! Bleating Hart! Lowlaid Herd! Aubain Hand! Wonted Foot! Usque! Usque! Usque! Lignum in . . .

 
— Rawth of Gar and Donnerbruck Fire? Is the strays world moving mound or what static babel is this, tell us?

 
— Whoishe whoishe whoishe whoishe linking in? Whoishe whoishe whoishe?

 
— The snare drum! Lay yer lug till the groun. The dead giant manalive! They’re playing thimbles and bodkins. Clan of the Gael! Hop! Whu’s within?

 
— Dovegall and finshark, they are ring to the rescune !

 
— Zinzin. Zinzin.

 
— Crum abu! Cromwell to victory!

 
— We’ll gore them and gash them and gun them and gloat on them.

 
— Zinzin.

 
— O, widows and orphans, it’s the yeomen! Redshanks for ever! Up Lancs!

 
— The cry of the roedeer it is! The white hind. Their slots, linklink, the hound hunthorning ! Send us and peace ! Title ! Title !

 
— Christ in our irish times! Christ on the airs independence! Christ hold the freedman’s chareman! Christ light the dully expressed!

 
— Slog slagt and sluaghter! Rape the daughter! Choke the pope!

 
— Aure ! Cloudy father ! Unsure ! Nongood !

 
— Zinzin. — Sold! I am sold! Brinabride! My ersther! My sidster! Brinabride, goodbye! Brinabride! I sold!

 
— Pipette dear! Us! Us! Me! Me!

 
— Fort! Fort! Bayroyt! March!

 
— Me! I’m true. True! Isolde. Pipette. My precious!

 
— Zinzin.

 
— Brinabride, bet my price ! Brinabride !

 
— My price, my precious?

 
— Zin.

 
— Brinabride, my price! When you sell get my price!

 
— Zin.

 
— Pipette ! Pipette, my priceless one !

 
— O ! Mother of my tears ! Believe for me ! Fold thy son !

 
— Zinzin. Zinzin.

 
— Now we’re gettin it. Tune in and pick up the forain counties ! Hello !

 
— Zinzin.

 
— Hello! Tittit! Tell your title?

 
— Abride !

 
— Hellohello! Ballymacarett! Am I thru’ Iss? Miss? True?

 
— Tit! What is the ti . . ?

SILENCE.

Act drop. Stand by! Blinders! Curtain up. Juice, please! Foots!

 
— Hello! Are you Cigar shank and Wheat?

 
— I gotye. Gobble Ann’s Carrot Cans.

 
— Parfey. Now, after that justajiff siesta, just permit me a moment. Challenger’s Deep is childsplay to this but, by our soundings in the swish channels, land is due. A truce to demobbed swarwords. Clear the line, priority call! Sybil! Better that or this? Sybil Head this end ! Better that way? Follow the baby spot. Yes. Very good now. We are again in the magnetic field. Do you remember on a particular lukesummer night, following a crying fair day? Moisten your lips for a lightning strike and begin again. Mind the flickers and dimmers! Better?

 
— Well. The isles is Thymes. The ales is Penzance. Vehement Genral. Delhi expulsed.

 
— Still calling of somewhave from its specific? Not more? Lesscontinuous. There were fires on every bald hill in holy Ireland that night. Better so?

 
— You may say they were, son of a cove!

 
— Were they bonfires? That clear?

 
— No other name would at all befit them unless that. Bona-fieries! With their blue beards streaming to the heavens.

 
— Was it a high white night now?

 
— Whitest night mortal ever saw.

 
— Was our lord of the heights nigh our lady of the valley?

 
— He was hosting himself up and flosting himself around and ghosting himself to merry her murmur like an andeanupper balkan.

 
— Lewd’s carol! Was there rain by any chance, mistandew?

 
— Plenty. If you wend farranoch.

 
— There fell some fall of littlewinter snow, holy-as-ivory, I gather, jesse?

 
— By snaachtha clocka. The nicest at all. In hilly-and-even zimalayars.

 
— Did it not blow some gales, westnass or ostscent, rather strongly to less, allin humours out of turn, jusse as they rose and sprungen?

 
— Out of all jokes it did. Pipep! Icecold. Brr na brr, ny prr! Lieto galumphantes ! — Stll cllng! Nmr! Peace, Pacific! Do you happen to recollect whether Muna, that highlucky-nackt, was shining at all?

 
— Sure she was, my midday darling ! And not one but a pair of pritty geallachers.

 
— Quando? Quonda? Go datey!

 
— Latearly!
Latearly! Latearly! Latearly!

 
— That was latterlig certainly. And was there frostwork about and thick weather and hice, soon calid, soon frozen, cold on warm but moistly dry, and a boatshaped blanket of bruma air-sighs and hellstohns and flammballs and vodashouts and every — thing to please everybody?

 
— Hail many fell of greats! Horey morey smother of fog! There was, so plays your ahrtides. Absolutely boiled. Obsoletely cowled. Julie and Lulie at their parkiest.

 
— The amenities, the amenities of the amenities with all their amenities. And the firmness of the formous of the famous of the fumous of the first fog in Maidanvale?

 
— Catchecatche and couchamed!

 
— From Miss Somer’s nice dream back to Winthrop’s delugium stramens. One expects that kind of rimey feeling in the sire season?

 
— One certainly does. Desire, for hire, would tire a shire, phone, phunkel, or wire. And mares.

 
— Of whitecaps any?

 
— Foamflakes flockfuyant from Foxrock to Finglas.

 
— A lambskip for the marines! Paronama! The entire hori- zon cloth! All effects in their joints caused ways. Raindrum, windmachine, snowbox. But thundersheet?

 
— No here. Under the blunkets.

 
— This common or garden is now in stilller realithy the starey sphere of an oleotorium for broken pottery and ancient vegetables?

 
— Simply awful the dirt. An evernasty ashtray.

 
— I see. Now do you know the wellknown kikkinmidden where the illassorted first couple first met with each other? The place where Ealdermann Fanagan? The time when Junkermenn Funagin?

 
— Deed then I do, W.K.

 
— In Fingal too they met at Littlepeace aneath the bidetree, Yellowhouse of Snugsborough, Westreeve–Astagob and Sluts-end with Stockins of Winning’s Folly Merryfalls, all of a two, skidoo and skephumble?

 
— Godamedy, you’re a delville of a tolkar!

 
— Is it a place fairly exspoused to the four last winds?

 
— Well, I faithly sincerely believe so indeed if all what I hope to charity is half true.

 
— This stow on the wolds, is it Woful Dane Bottom?

 
— It is woful in need whatever about anything or allselse under the grianblachk sun of gan greyne Eireann.

 
— A tricolour ribbon that spells a caution. The old flag, the cold flag.

 
— The flagstone. By tombs, deep and heavy. To the unaveiling memory of. Peacer the grave.

 
— And what sigeth Woodin Warneung thereof?

 
— Trickspissers vill be pairsecluded.

 
— There used to be a tree stuck up? An overlisting eshtree?

 
— There used, sure enough. Beside the Annar. At the ford of Slivenamond. Oakley Ashe’s elm. With a snoodrift from one beerchen bough. And the grawndest crowndest consecrated may-pole in all the reignladen history of Wilds. Browne’s Thesaurus Plantarum from Nolan’s, The Prittlewell Press, has nothing alike it. For we are fed of its forest, clad in its wood, burqued by its bark and our lecture is its leave. The cran, the cran, the king of all crans . Squiremade and damesman of plantagenets, high and holy.

 
— Now, no hiding your wren under a bushle! What was it doing there, for instance?

 
— Standing foreninst us.

 
— In Summerian sunshine?

 
— And in Cimmerian shudders.

 
— You saw it visibly from your hidingplace?

 
— No. From my invisibly lyingplace.

 
— And you then took down in stereo what took place being tunc committed?

 
— I then tuk my takenplace lying down, I thunk I told you. Solve it!

 
— Remounting aliftle towards the ouragan of spaces. Just how grand in cardinal rounders is this preeminent giant, sir Arber? Your bard’s highview, avis on valley ! I would like to hear you burble to us in strict conclave, purpurando, and without too much italiote interfairance, what you know ? in petto about our sovereign beingstalk, Tonans Tomazeus. O dite!

 
— Corcor Andy, Udi, Udite! Your Ominence, Your Immi-nence and delicted fraternitrees! There’s tuodore queensmaids and Idahore shopgirls and they woody babies growing upon her and bird flamingans sweenyswinging fuglewards on the tipmast and Orania epples playing hopptociel bommptaterre and Ty-burn fenians snoring in his quickenbole and crossbones strewing its holy floor and culprines of Erasmus Smith’s burstall boys with their underhand leadpencils climbing to her crotch for the origin of spices and charlotte darlings with silk blue askmes chattering in dissent to them, gibbonses and gobbenses, guelfing and ghiberring proferring praydews to their anatolies and blighting findblasts on their catastripes and the killmaimthem pen — sioners chucking overthrown milestones up to her to fall her cranberries and her pommes annettes for their unnatural refection and handpainted hoydens plucking husbands of him and cock robins muchmore hatching most out of his missado eggdrazzles for him, the sun and moon pegging honeysuckle and white heather down and timtits tapping resin there and tomahawks watching tar elsewhere, creatures of the wold approaching him, hollow mid ivy, for to claw and rub, hermits of the desert barking their infernal shins over her triliteral roots and his acorns and pinecorns shooting wide all sides out of him, plantitude outsends of plenty to thousands, after the truants of the utmost-fear and her downslyder in that snakedst-tu-naughsy whimmering woman’t seeleib such a fashionaping sathinous dress out of that exquisitive creation and her leaves, my darling dearest, sinsin-sinning since the night of time and each and all of their branches meeting and shaking twisty hands all over again in their new world through the germination of its gemination from Ond’s outset till Odd’s end. And encircle him circuly. Evovae!

 
— Is it so exaltated, eximious, extraoldandairy and excels-siorising?

 
— Amengst menlike trees walking or trees like angels weeping nobirdy aviar soar anywing to eagle it! But rocked of agues, cliffed for aye !

 
— Telleth that eke the treeth?

 
— Mushe, mushe of a mixness.

 
— A shrub of libertine, indeed! But that steyne of law indead what stiles its neming?