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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 534/821
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The
air
without
is
impregnated
with
raindew
moisture
,
life
essence
celestial
,
glistening
on
Dublin
stone
there
under
starshiny
coelum
.
God
’
s
air
,
the
Allfather
’
s
air
,
scintillant
circumambient
cessile
air
.
Breathe
it
deep
into
thee
.
By
heaven
,
Theodore
Purefoy
,
thou
hast
done
a
doughty
deed
and
no
botch
!
Thou
art
,
I
vow
,
the
remarkablest
progenitor
barring
none
in
this
chaffering
allincluding
most
farraginous
chronicle
.
Astounding
!
In
her
lay
a
Godframed
Godgiven
preformed
possibility
which
thou
hast
fructified
with
thy
modicum
of
man
’
s
work
.
Cleave
to
her
!
Serve
!
Toil
on
,
labour
like
a
very
bandog
and
let
scholarment
and
all
Malthusiasts
go
hang
.
Thou
art
all
their
daddies
,
Theodore
.
Art
drooping
under
thy
load
,
bemoiled
with
butcher
’
s
bills
at
home
and
ingots
(
not
thine
!
)
in
the
countinghouse
?
Head
up
!
For
every
newbegotten
thou
shalt
gather
thy
homer
of
ripe
wheat
.
See
,
thy
fleece
is
drenched
.
Dost
envy
Darby
Dullman
there
with
his
Joan
?
A
canting
jay
and
a
rheumeyed
curdog
is
all
their
progeny
.
Pshaw
,
I
tell
thee
!
He
is
a
mule
,
a
dead
gasteropod
,
without
vim
or
stamina
,
not
worth
a
cracked
kreutzer
.
Copulation
without
population
!
No
,
say
I
!
Herod
’
s
slaughter
of
the
innocents
were
the
truer
name
.
Vegetables
,
forsooth
,
and
sterile
cohabitation
!
Give
her
beefsteaks
,
red
,
raw
,
bleeding
!
She
is
a
hoary
pandemonium
of
ills
,
enlarged
glands
,
mumps
,
quinsy
,
bunions
,
hayfever
,
bedsores
,
ringworm
,
floating
kidney
,
Derbyshire
neck
,
warts
,
bilious
attacks
,
gallstones
,
cold
feet
,
varicose
veins
.
A
truce
to
threnes
and
trentals
and
jeremies
and
all
such
congenital
defunctive
music
!
Twenty
years
of
it
,
regret
them
not
.
With
thee
it
was
not
as
with
many
that
will
and
would
and
wait
and
never
—
do
.
Thou
sawest
thy
America
,
thy
lifetask
,
and
didst
charge
to
cover
like
the
transpontine
bison
.
How
saith
Zarathustra
?
Deine
Kuh
Trübsal
melkest
Du
.
Nun
Trinkst
Du
die
süsse
Milch
des
Euters
.
See
!
it
displodes
for
thee
in
abundance
.
Drink
,
man
,
an
udderful
!
Mother
’
s
milk
,
Purefoy
,
the
milk
of
human
kin
,
milk
too
of
those
burgeoning
stars
overhead
rutilant
in
thin
rainvapour
,
punch
milk
,
such
as
those
rioters
will
quaff
in
their
guzzling
den
,
milk
of
madness
,
the
honeymilk
of
Canaan
’
s
land
.
Thy
cow
’
s
dug
was
tough
,
what
?
Ay
,
but
her
milk
is
hot
and
sweet
and
fattening
.
No
dollop
this
but
thick
rich
bonnyclaber
.
To
her
,
old
patriarch
!
Pap
!
Per
deam
Partulam
et
Pertundam
nunc
est
bibendum
!
All
off
for
a
buster
,
armstrong
,
hollering
down
the
street
.
Bonafides
.
Where
you
slep
las
nigh
?
Timothy
of
the
battered
naggin
.
Like
ole
Billyo
.
Any
brollies
or
gumboots
in
the
fambly
?
Where
the
Henry
Nevil
’
s
sawbones
and
ole
clo
?
Sorra
one
o
’
me
knows
.
Hurrah
there
,
Dix
!
Forward
to
the
ribbon
counter
.
Where
’
s
Punch
?
All
serene
.
Jay
,
look
at
the
drunken
minister
coming
out
of
the
maternity
hospal
!
Benedicat
vos
omnipotens
Deus
,
Pater
et
Filius
.
A
make
,
mister
.
The
Denzille
lane
boys
.
Hell
,
blast
ye
!
Scoot
.
Righto
,
Isaacs
,
shove
em
out
of
the
bleeding
limelight
.
Yous
join
uz
,
dear
sir
?
No
hentrusion
in
life
.
Lou
heap
good
man
.
Allee
samee
dis
bunch
.
En
avant
,
mes
enfants
!
Fire
away
number
one
on
the
gun
.
Burke
’
s
!
Burke
’
s
!
Thence
they
advanced
five
parasangs
.
Slattery
’
s
mounted
foot
.
Where
’
s
that
bleeding
awfur
?
Parson
Steve
,
apostates
’
creed
!
No
,
no
,
Mulligan
!
Abaft
there
!
Shove
ahead
.
Keep
a
watch
on
the
clock
.
Chuckingout
time
.
Mullee
!
What
’
s
on
you
?
Ma
mère
m
’
a
mariée
.
British
Beatitudes
!
Retamplatan
digidi
boumboum
.
Ayes
have
it
.
To
be
printed
and
bound
at
the
Druiddrum
press
by
two
designing
females
.
Calf
covers
of
pissedon
green
.
Last
word
in
art
shades
.
Most
beautiful
book
come
out
of
Ireland
my
time
.
Silentium
!
Get
a
spurt
on
.
Tention
.
Proceed
to
nearest
canteen
and
there
annex
liquor
stores
.
March
!
Tramp
,
tramp
,
tramp
,
the
boys
are
(
attitudes
!
)
parching
.
Beer
,
beef
,
business
,
bibles
,
bulldogs
battleships
,
buggery
and
bishops
.
Whether
on
the
scaffold
high
.
Beer
,
beef
,
trample
the
bibles
.
When
for
Irelandear
.
Trample
the
trampellers
.
Thunderation
!
Keep
the
durned
millingtary
step
.
We
fall
.
Bishops
boosebox
.
Halt
!
Heave
to
.
Rugger
.
Scrum
in
.
No
touch
kicking
.
Wow
,
my
tootsies
!
You
hurt
?
Most
amazingly
sorry
!
Query
.
Who
’
s
astanding
this
here
do
?
Proud
possessor
of
damnall
.
Declare
misery
.
Bet
to
the
ropes
.
Me
nantee
saltee
.
Not
a
red
at
me
this
week
gone
.
Yours
?
Mead
of
our
fathers
for
the
Übermensch
.
Dittoh
.
Five
number
ones
.
You
,
sir
?
Ginger
cordial
.
Chase
me
,
the
cabby
’
s
caudle
.
Stimulate
the
caloric
.
Winding
of
his
ticker
.
Stopped
short
never
to
go
again
when
the
old
.
Absinthe
for
me
,
savvy
?
Caramba
!
Have
an
eggnog
or
a
prairie
oyster
.
Enemy
?
Avuncular
’
s
got
my
timepiece
.
Ten
to
.
Obligated
awful
.
Don
’
t
mention
it
.
Got
a
pectoral
trauma
,
eh
,
Dix
?
Pos
fact
.
Got
bet
be
a
boomblebee
whenever
he
wus
settin
sleepin
in
hes
bit
garten
.
Digs
up
near
the
Mater
.
Buckled
he
is
.
Know
his
dona
?
Yup
,
sartin
I
do
.
Full
of
a
dure
.
See
her
in
her
dishybilly
.
Peels
off
a
credit
.
Lovey
lovekin
.
None
of
your
lean
kine
,
not
much
.
Pull
down
the
blind
,
love
.
Two
Ardilauns
.
Same
here
.
Look
slippery
.
If
you
fall
don
’
t
wait
to
get
up
.
Five
,
seven
,
nine
.
Fine
!
Got
a
prime
pair
of
mincepies
,
no
kid
.
And
her
take
me
to
rests
and
her
anker
of
rum
.
Must
be
seen
to
be
believed
.
Your
starving
eyes
and
allbeplastered
neck
you
stole
my
heart
,
O
gluepot
.
Sir
?
Spud
again
the
rheumatiz
?
All
poppycock
,
you
’
ll
scuse
me
saying
.
For
the
hoi
polloi
.
I
vear
thee
beest
a
gert
vool
.
Well
,
doc
?
Back
fro
Lapland
?
Your
corporosity
sagaciating
O
K
?
How
’
s
the
squaws
and
papooses
?
Womanbody
after
going
on
the
straw
?
Stand
and
deliver
.
Password
.
There
’
s
hair
.
Ours
the
white
death
and
the
ruddy
birth
.
Hi
!
Spit
in
your
own
eye
,
boss
!
Mummer
’
s
wire
.
Cribbed
out
of
Meredith
.
Jesified
,
orchidised
,
polycimical
jesuit
!
Aunty
mine
’
s
writing
Pa
Kinch
.
Baddybad
Stephen
lead
astray
goodygood
Malachi
.
Hurroo
!
Collar
the
leather
,
youngun
.
Roun
wi
the
nappy
.
Here
,
Jock
braw
Hielentman
’
s
your
barleybree
.
Lang
may
your
lum
reek
and
your
kailpot
boil
!
My
tipple
.
Merci
.
Here
’
s
to
us
.
How
’
s
that
?
Leg
before
wicket
.
Don
’
t
stain
my
brandnew
sitinems
.
Give
’
s
a
shake
of
peppe
,
you
there
.
Catch
aholt
.
Caraway
seed
to
carry
away
.
Twig
?
Shrieks
of
silence
.
Every
cove
to
his
gentry
mort
.
Venus
Pandemos
.
Les
petites
femmes
.
Bold
bad
girl
from
the
town
of
Mullingar
.
Tell
her
I
was
axing
at
her
.
Hauding
Sara
by
the
wame
.
On
the
road
to
Malahide
.
Me
?
If
she
who
seduced
me
had
left
but
the
name
.
What
do
you
want
for
ninepence
?
Machree
,
macruiskeen
.
Smutty
Moll
for
a
mattress
jig
.
And
a
pull
all
together
.
Ex
!
Waiting
,
guvnor
?
Most
deciduously
.
Bet
your
boots
on
.
Stunned
like
,
seeing
as
how
no
shiners
is
acoming
.
Underconstumble
?
He
’
ve
got
the
chink
ad
lib
.
Seed
near
free
poun
on
un
a
spell
ago
a
said
war
hisn
.
Us
come
right
in
on
your
invite
,
see
?
Up
to
you
,
matey
.
Out
with
the
oof
.
Two
bar
and
a
wing
.
You
larn
that
go
off
of
they
there
Frenchy
bilks
?
Won
’
t
wash
here
for
nuts
nohow
.
Lil
chile
velly
solly
.
Ise
de
cutest
colour
coon
down
our
side
.
Gawds
teruth
,
Chawley
.
We
are
nae
fou
.
We
’
re
nae
tha
fou
.
Au
reservoir
,
mossoo
.
Tanks
you
.
’
Tis
,
sure
.
What
say
?
In
the
speakeasy
.
Tight
.
I
shee
you
,
shir
.
Bantam
,
two
days
teetee
.
Bowsing
nowt
but
claretwine
.
Garn
!
Have
a
glint
,
do
.
Gum
,
I
’
m
jiggered
.
And
been
to
barber
he
have
.
Too
full
for
words
.
With
a
railway
bloke
.
How
come
you
so
?
Opera
he
’
d
like
?
Rose
of
Castile
.
Rows
of
cast
.
Police
!
Some
H2O
for
a
gent
fainted
.
Look
at
Bantam
’
s
flowers
.
Gemini
.
He
’
s
going
to
holler
.
The
colleen
bawn
.
My
colleen
bawn
.
O
,
cheese
it
!
Shut
his
blurry
Dutch
oven
with
a
firm
hand
.
Had
the
winner
today
till
I
tipped
him
a
dead
cert
.
The
ruffin
cly
the
nab
of
Stephen
Hand
as
give
me
the
jady
coppaleen
.
He
strike
a
telegramboy
paddock
wire
big
bug
Bass
to
the
depot
.
Shove
him
a
joey
and
grahamise
.
Mare
on
form
hot
order
.
Guinea
to
a
goosegog
.
Tell
a
cram
,
that
.
Gospeltrue
.
Criminal
diversion
?
I
think
that
yes
.
Sure
thing
.
Land
him
in
chokeechokee
if
the
harman
beck
copped
the
game
.
