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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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- Стр. 535/821
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Madden
back
Madden
’
s
a
maddening
back
.
O
lust
our
refuge
and
our
strength
.
Decamping
.
Must
you
go
?
Off
to
mammy
.
Stand
by
.
Hide
my
blushes
someone
.
All
in
if
he
spots
me
.
Come
ahome
,
our
Bantam
.
Horryvar
,
mong
vioo
.
Dinna
forget
the
cowslips
for
hersel
.
Cornfide
.
Wha
gev
ye
thon
colt
?
Pal
to
pal
.
Jannock
.
Of
John
Thomas
,
her
spouse
.
No
fake
,
old
man
Leo
.
S
’
elp
me
,
honest
injun
.
Shiver
my
timbers
if
I
had
.
There
’
s
a
great
big
holy
friar
.
Vyfor
you
no
me
tell
?
Vel
,
I
ses
,
if
that
aint
a
sheeny
nachez
,
vel
,
I
vil
get
misha
mishinnah
.
Through
yerd
our
lord
,
Amen
.
You
move
a
motion
?
Steve
boy
,
you
’
re
going
it
some
.
More
bluggy
drunkables
?
Will
immensely
splendiferous
stander
permit
one
stooder
of
most
extreme
poverty
and
one
largesize
grandacious
thirst
to
terminate
one
expensive
inaugurated
libation
?
Give
’
s
a
breather
.
Landlord
,
landlord
,
have
you
good
wine
,
staboo
?
Hoots
,
mon
,
a
wee
drap
to
pree
.
Cut
and
come
again
.
Right
.
Boniface
!
Absinthe
the
lot
.
Nos
omnes
biberimus
viridum
toxicum
diabolus
capiat
posterioria
nostria
.
Closingtime
,
gents
.
Eh
?
Rome
boose
for
the
Bloom
toff
.
I
hear
you
say
onions
?
Bloo
?
Cadges
ads
.
Photo
’
s
papli
,
by
all
that
’
s
gorgeous
.
Play
low
,
pardner
.
Slide
.
Bonsoir
la
compagnie
.
And
snares
of
the
poxfiend
.
Where
’
s
the
buck
and
Namby
Amby
?
Skunked
?
Leg
bail
.
Aweel
,
ye
maun
e
’
en
gang
yer
gates
.
Checkmate
.
King
to
tower
.
Kind
Kristyann
wil
yu
help
yung
man
hoose
frend
tuk
bungellow
kee
tu
find
plais
whear
tu
lay
crown
of
his
hed
2
night
.
Crickey
,
I
’
m
about
sprung
.
Tarnally
dog
gone
my
shins
if
this
beent
the
bestest
puttiest
longbreak
yet
.
Item
,
curate
,
couple
of
cookies
for
this
child
.
Cot
’
s
plood
and
prandypalls
,
none
!
Not
a
pite
of
sheeses
?
Thrust
syphilis
down
to
hell
and
with
him
those
other
licensed
spirits
.
Time
,
gents
!
Who
wander
through
the
world
.
Health
all
!
À
la
vôtre
!
Golly
,
whatten
tunket
’
s
yon
guy
in
the
mackintosh
?
Dusty
Rhodes
.
Peep
at
his
wearables
.
By
mighty
!
What
’
s
he
got
?
Jubilee
mutton
.
Bovril
,
by
James
.
Wants
it
real
bad
.
D
’
ye
ken
bare
socks
?
Seedy
cuss
in
the
Richmond
?
Rawthere
!
Thought
he
had
a
deposit
of
lead
in
his
penis
.
Trumpery
insanity
.
Bartle
the
Bread
we
calls
him
.
That
,
sir
,
was
once
a
prosperous
cit
.
Man
all
tattered
and
torn
that
married
a
maiden
all
forlorn
.
Slung
her
hook
,
she
did
.
Here
see
lost
love
.
Walking
Mackintosh
of
lonely
canyon
.
Tuck
and
turn
in
.
Schedule
time
.
Nix
for
the
hornies
.
Pardon
?
Seen
him
today
at
a
runefal
?
Chum
o
’
yourn
passed
in
his
checks
?
Ludamassy
!
Pore
piccaninnies
!
Thou
’
ll
no
be
telling
me
thot
,
Pold
veg
!
Did
ums
blubble
bigsplash
crytears
cos
fren
Padney
was
took
off
in
black
bag
?
Of
all
de
darkies
Massa
Pat
was
verra
best
.
I
never
see
the
like
since
I
was
born
.
Tiens
,
tiens
,
but
it
is
well
sad
,
that
,
my
faith
,
yes
.
O
,
get
,
rev
on
a
gradient
one
in
nine
.
Live
axle
drives
are
souped
.
Lay
you
two
to
one
Jenatzy
licks
him
ruddy
well
hollow
.
Jappies
?
High
angle
fire
,
inyah
!
Sunk
by
war
specials
.
Be
worse
for
him
,
says
he
,
nor
any
Rooshian
.
Time
all
.
There
’
s
eleven
of
them
.
Get
ye
gone
.
Forward
,
woozy
wobblers
!
Night
.
Night
.
May
Allah
the
Excellent
One
your
soul
this
night
ever
tremendously
conserve
.
Your
attention
!
We
’
re
nae
tha
fou
.
The
Leith
police
dismisseth
us
.
The
least
tholice
.
Ware
hawks
for
the
chap
puking
.
Unwell
in
his
abominable
regions
.
Yooka
.
Night
.
Mona
,
my
true
love
.
Yook
.
Mona
,
my
own
love
.
Ook
.
Hark
!
Shut
your
obstropolos
.
Pflaap
!
Pflaap
!
Blaze
on
.
There
she
goes
.
Brigade
!
Bout
ship
.
Mount
street
way
.
Cut
up
!
Pflaap
!
Tally
ho
.
You
not
come
?
Run
,
skelter
,
race
.
Pflaaaap
!
Lynch
!
Hey
?
Sign
on
long
o
’
me
.
Denzille
lane
this
way
.
Change
here
for
Bawdyhouse
.
We
two
,
she
said
,
will
seek
the
kips
where
shady
Mary
is
.
Righto
,
any
old
time
.
Laetabuntur
in
cubilibus
suis
.
You
coming
long
?
Whisper
,
who
the
sooty
hell
’
s
the
johnny
in
the
black
duds
?
Hush
!
Sinned
against
the
light
and
even
now
that
day
is
at
hand
when
he
shall
come
to
judge
the
world
by
fire
.
Pflaap
!
Ut
implerentur
scripturae
.
Strike
up
a
ballad
.
Then
outspake
medical
Dick
to
his
comrade
medical
Davy
.
Christicle
,
who
’
s
this
excrement
yellow
gospeller
on
the
Merrion
hall
?
Elijah
is
coming
!
Washed
in
the
blood
of
the
Lamb
.
Come
on
you
winefizzling
,
ginsizzling
,
booseguzzling
existences
!
Come
on
,
you
dog
-
gone
,
bullnecked
,
beetlebrowed
,
hogjowled
,
peanutbrained
,
weaseleyed
fourflushers
,
false
alarms
and
excess
baggage
!
Come
on
,
you
triple
extract
of
infamy
!
Alexander
J
Christ
Dowie
,
that
’
s
my
name
,
that
’
s
yanked
to
glory
most
half
this
planet
from
Frisco
beach
to
Vladivostok
.
The
Deity
aint
no
nickel
dime
bumshow
.
I
put
it
to
you
that
He
’
s
on
the
square
and
a
corking
fine
business
proposition
.
He
’
s
the
grandest
thing
yet
and
don
’
t
you
forget
it
.
Shout
salvation
in
King
Jesus
.
You
’
ll
need
to
rise
precious
early
,
you
sinner
there
,
if
you
want
to
diddle
the
Almighty
God
.
Pflaaaap
!
Not
half
He
’
s
got
a
coughmixture
with
a
punch
in
it
for
you
,
my
friend
,
in
his
back
pocket
.
Just
you
try
it
on
.
(
The
Mabbot
street
entrance
of
nighttown
,
before
which
stretches
an
uncobbled
tramsiding
set
with
skeleton
tracks
,
red
and
green
will
-
o
’
-
the
-
wisps
and
danger
signals
.
Rows
of
grimy
houses
with
gaping
doors
.
Rare
lamps
with
faint
rainbow
fans
.
Round
Rabaiotti
’
s
halted
ice
gondola
stunted
men
and
women
squabble
.
They
grab
wafers
between
which
are
wedged
lumps
of
coral
and
copper
snow
.
Sucking
,
they
scatter
slowly
.
Children
.
The
swancomb
of
the
gondola
,
highreared
,
forges
on
through
the
murk
,
white
and
blue
under
a
lighthouse
.
Whistles
call
and
answer
.
)
