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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 298/821
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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
:
I
hope
Edmund
is
going
to
catch
it
.
I
don
’
t
want
Richard
,
my
name
.
.
.
(
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
,
honorificabilitudinitatibus
,
dearer
than
his
glory
of
greatest
shakescene
in
the
country
.
What
’
s
in
a
name
?
That
is
what
we
ask
ourselves
in
childhood
when
we
write
the
name
that
we
are
told
is
ours
.
A
star
,
a
daystar
,
a
firedrake
,
rose
at
his
birth
.
It
shone
by
day
in
the
heavens
alone
,
brighter
than
Venus
in
the
night
,
and
by
night
it
shone
over
delta
in
Cassiopeia
,
the
recumbent
constellation
which
is
the
signature
of
his
initial
among
the
stars
.
His
eyes
watched
it
,
lowlying
on
the
horizon
,
eastward
of
the
bear
,
as
he
walked
by
the
slumberous
summer
fields
at
midnight
returning
from
Shottery
and
from
her
arms
.
Both
satisfied
.
I
too
.
Don
’
t
tell
them
he
was
nine
years
old
when
it
was
quenched
.
And
from
her
arms
.
Wait
to
be
wooed
and
won
.
Ay
,
meacock
.
Who
will
woo
you
?
