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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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—
And
Harry
of
six
wives
’
daughter
.
And
other
lady
friends
from
neighbour
seats
as
Lawn
Tennyson
,
gentleman
poet
,
sings
.
But
all
those
twenty
years
what
do
you
suppose
poor
Penelope
in
Stratford
was
doing
behind
the
diamond
panes
?
Do
and
do
.
Thing
done
.
In
a
rosery
of
Fetter
lane
of
Gerard
,
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
.
Buck
Mulligan
rapped
John
Eglinton
’
s
desk
sharply
.
—
Whom
do
you
suspect
?
he
challenged
.
—
Say
that
he
is
the
spurned
lover
in
the
sonnets
.
Once
spurned
twice
spurned
.
But
the
court
wanton
spurned
him
for
a
lord
,
his
dearmylove
.
Love
that
dare
not
speak
its
name
.
—
As
an
Englishman
,
you
mean
,
John
sturdy
Eglinton
put
in
,
he
loved
a
lord
.
Old
wall
where
sudden
lizards
flash
.
At
Charenton
I
watched
them
.
—
It
seems
so
,
Stephen
said
,
when
he
wants
to
do
for
him
,
and
for
all
other
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
favour
has
declined
,
deceased
husband
’
s
brother
.
Sweet
Ann
,
I
take
it
,
was
hot
in
the
blood
.
Once
a
wooer
,
twice
a
wooer
.
