Page 256 (11.410-447) "Bending, she... bottle of cider."

editions: [1922] [html] [archv]
notes: [Th] [G&S] [Dent] [∞] [wbks] [rw] [images] [hyper]
Delaney: [0] Useen: [] [cp] maps: [other] [*]

<



Bending, she nipped a peak of skirt above her knee. Delayed. Taunted them still, bending, suspending, with wilful eyes.



— Sonnez!



Smack. She let free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter smackwarm against her smackable woman's warmhosed thigh.

elastic:


— La cloche! cried gleeful Lenehan. Trained by owner. No sawdust there.



She smilesmirked supercilious (wept! aren't men?), but, lightward gliding, mild she smiled on Boylan.



— You're the essence of vulgarity, she in gliding said.



Boylan, eyed, eyed. Tossed to fat lips his chalice, drankoff his chalice tiny, sucking the last fat violet syrupy drops. He spellbound eyes went after, after her gliding head as it went down the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmering, a spiky shell, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze with sunnier bronze.



Yes, bronze from anearby.



— ...sweetheart, goodbye!







— I'm off, said Boylan with impatience.



He slid his chalice brisk away, grasped his change.



— Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, drinking quickly. I wanted to tell you. Tom Rochford...



— Come on to blazes, said Blazes Boylan, going.



Lenehan gulped to go.



— Got the horn or what? he said. Wait. I'm coming.



He followed the hasty creaking shoes but stood by nimbly by the threshold, saluting forms, a bulky with a slender.



— How do you do, Mr Dollard?



— Eh? How do? How do? Ben Dollard's vague bass answered, turning an instant from Father Cowley's woe. He won't give you any trouble, Bob. Alf Bergan will speak to the long fellow. We'll put a barleystraw in that Judas Iscariot's ear this time.



Sighing, Mr Dedalus came through the saloon, a finger soothing an eyelid.



— Hoho, we will, Ben Dollard yodled jollily. Come on, Simon, give us a ditty. We heard the piano.



Bald Pat, bothered waiter, waited for drink orders. Power for Richie. And Bloom? Let me see. Not make him walk twice. His corns. Four now. How warm this black is. Course nerves a bit. Refracts (is it?) heat. Let me see. Cider. Yes, bottle of cider.

Power or Power's became Powers

>

mysteries:


[DD]
[IM]
[LV1]
[LV2]


sirens: 245246247248249250251252253254255256257258259260261262263264265266267268269270271272273274275276277278279

Page 255 (11.373-409) "Fortune... Do! Sonnez!"

editions: [1922] [html] [archv]
notes: [Th] [G&S] [Dent] [∞] [wbks] [rw] [images] [hyper]
Delaney: [0] Useen: [] [cp] maps: [other] [*]

<



— Fortune, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale.

sloegin is neither bubbly nor ale


— Sceptre will win in a canter, he said.



— I plunged a bit, said Boylan winking and drinking. Not on my own, you know. Fancy of a friend of mine.



Lenehan still drank and grinned at his tilted ale and at Miss Douce's lips that all but hummed, not shut, the oceansong her lips had trilled. Idolores. The eastern seas.



Clock whirred. Miss Kennedy passed their way (flower, wonder who gave), bearing away teatray. Clock clacked.



Miss Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister. It clanged. Clock clacked. Fair one of Egypt teased and sorted in the till and hummed and handed coins in change. Look to the west. A clack. For me.



— What time is that? asked Blazes Boylan. Four?



O'clock.



Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her humming, bust ahumming, tugged Blazes Boylan's elbowsleeve.



— Let's hear the time, he said.



The bag of Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables. Aimless he chose with agitated aim, bald Pat attending, a table near the door. Be near. At four. Has he forgotten? Perhaps a trick. Not come: whet appetite. I couldn't do. Wait, wait. Pat, waiter, waited.

ryeblooms?


Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes.



— Go on, pressed Lenehan. There's no-one. He never heard.



— ...to Flora's lips did hie.



High, a high note, pealed in the treble, clear.



Bronzedouce, communing with her rose that sank and rose, sought Blazes Boylan's flower and eyes.



— Please, please.



He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal.



— I could not leave thee...



— Afterwits, Miss Douce promised coyly.



— No, now, urged Lenehan. Sonnez la cloche! O do! There's no-one.

'sound the bell'


She looked. Quick. Miss Kenn out of earshot. Sudden bent. Two kindling faces watched her bend.



Quavering the chords strayed from the air, found it again, lost chord, and lost and found it, faltering.

'Lost Chord'

Simon's limited piano skills


— Go on! Do! Sonnez!

>

mysteries:


[DD]
[IM]
[LV1]
[LV2]


sirens: 245246247248249250251252253254255256257258259260261262263264265266267268269270271272273274275276277278279

Page 254 (11.335-372) "Ask no questions... till I..."

editions: [1922] [html] [archv]
notes: [Th] [G&S] [Dent] [∞] [wbks] [rw] [images] [hyper]
Delaney: [0] Useen: [] [cp] maps: [other] [*]

<

— Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies.



Like lady, ladylike.

(somehow is this musical rather than Eolus-rhetorical? or both?)


Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloor where he strode. Yes, gold from anear by bronze from afar. Lenehan heard and knew and hailed him:



— See the conquering hero comes.

Handel


Between the car and window, warily walking, went Bloom, unconquered hero. See me he might. The seat he sat on: warm. Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting.

(Bloom as panther)


— And I from thee...



— I heard you were round, said Blazes Boylan.

p220


He touched to fair Miss Kennedy a rim of his slanted straw. She smiled on him. But sister bronze outsmiled her, preening for him her richer hair, a bosom and a rose.



Smart Boylan bespoke potions.


he offers Lenehan a freebie:

— What's your cry? Glass of bitter? Glass of bitter, please, and a sloegin for me. Wire in yet?

gin flavored with sloe berries [wiki]

Not yet. At four he. All said four.

"All"?


Cowley's red lugs and Adam's apple in the door of the sheriff's office. Avoid. Goulding a chance. What is he doing in the Ormond? Car waiting. Wait.

ears or earlobes

Dollard led 'Father' Cowley to the subsheriff's to see the new bailiff

what "chance"?


Hello. Where off to? Something to eat? I too was just. In here. What, Ormond? Best value in Dublin. Is that so? Diningroom. Sit tight there. See, not be seen. I think I'll join you. Come on. Richie led on. Bloom followed bag. Dinner fit for a prince.

did RG invite LB or not?


Miss Douce reached high to take a flagon, stretching her satin arm, her bust, that all but burst, so high.



— O! O! jerked Lenehan, gasping at each stretch. O!



But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph.



— Why don't you grow? asked Blazes Boylan.



Shebronze, dealing from her jar thick syrupy liquor for his lips, looked as it flowed (flower in his coat: who gave him?), and syrupped with her voice:

Lydia admires BB


— Fine goods in small parcels.



That is to say she. Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe.



— Here's fortune, Blazes said.



He pitched a broad coin down. Coin rang.



— Hold on, said Lenehan, till I...

>

mysteries:


[DD]
[IM]
[LV1]
[LV2]



sirens: 245246247248249250251252253254255256257258259260261262263264265266267268269270271272273274275276277278279

Page 253 (11.295-334) "Two sheets... slighting:"

editions: [1922] [html] [archv]
notes: [Th] [G&S] [Dent] [∞] [wbks] [rw] [images] [hyper]
Delaney: [0] Useen: [] [cp] maps: [other] [*]

<

Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I was in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower bought. Are you not happy in your home? Flower to console me and a pin cuts lo. Means something, language of flow. Was it a daisy? Innocence that is. Respectable girl meet after mass. Tanks awfully muchly. Wise Bloom eyed on the door a poster, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all. Hair streaming: lovelorn. For some man. For Raoul. He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a jauntingcar. It is. Third time. Coincidence.

c1868

(cigarettes, cigars, or pipe tobacco?)


Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the bridge to Ormond quay. Follow. Risk it. Go quick. At four. Near now. Out.

the cavalcade passed Boylan "By the provost’s wall" some minutes after it passed the Ormond, yet he's managed to hire a jauntingcar and reach the Ormond already?


— Twopence, sir, the shopgirl dared to say.



— Aha... I was forgetting... Excuse...

(seriously discombobulated)


— And four.

he gives her 6p and gets 4p change


At four she. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. Bloo smi qui go. Ternoon. Think you're the only pebble on the beach? Does that to all. For men.

he knows her: "Daly's. Girl there civil."


In drowsy silence gold bent on her page.

(cf Dilly w/Chardenal?)


From the saloon a call came, long in dying. That was a tuningfork the tuner had that he forgot that he now struck. A call again. That he now poised that it now throbbed. You hear? It throbbed, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs. Longer in dying call.

tuning fork:


Pat paid for diner's popcorked bottle: and over tumbler, tray and popcorked bottle ere he went he whispered, bald and bothered, with Miss Douce.



— The bright stars fade...



A voiceless song sang from within, singing:

"voiceless" = without vibrating vocal cords??
or just the piano without a singer yet?


— ...the morn is breaking.



A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. Brightly the keys, all twinkling, linked, all harpsichording, called to a voice to sing the strain of dewy morn, of youth, of love's leavetaking, life's, love's morn.

twelve notes [more]


— The dewdrops pearl...



Lenehan's lips over the counter lisped a low whistle of decoy.

p245 above had "Decoy. Soft word. But look! The bright stars fade..." but this is the only recurrence of 'decoy'
distracting her from the piano?

cf BM on p3: "He peered sideways up and gave a long low whistle of call"


— But look this way, he said, rose of Castile.

(does he call her that?)


Jingle jaunted by the curb and stopped.



She rose and closed her reading, rose of Castile. Fretted forlorn, dreamily rose.

is it the book that made her forlorn, or having to close it?


— Did she fall or was she pushed? he asked her.

a catchphrase, it needn't refer to the particular book


She answered, slighting:

>

mysteries:


[DD]
[IM]
[LV1]
[LV2]


sirens: 245246247248249250251252253254255256257258259260261262263264265266267268269270271272273274275276277278279

Page 252 (11.255-294) "Who may... hammerfall in action."

editions: [1922] [html] [archv]
notes: [Th] [G&S] [Dent] [∞] [wbks] [rw] [images] [hyper]
Delaney: [0] Useen: [] [cp] maps: [other] [*]

<



— Who may he be? he asked. Can you ask? Stephen, the youthful bard.



Dry.



Mr Dedalus, famous fighter, laid by his dry filled pipe.



— I see, he said. I didn't recognize him for the moment. I hear he is keeping very select company. Have you seen him lately?



He had.



— I quaffed the nectarbowl with him this very day, said Lenehan. In Mooney's en ville and in Mooney's sur mer. He had received the rhino for the labour of his muse.

has SD lied about where he got the money?


He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, at listening lips and eyes.



— The élite of Erin hung upon his lips. The ponderous pundit, Hugh MacHugh, Dublin's most brilliant scribe and editor, and that minstrel boy of the wild wet west who is known by the euphonious appellation of the O'Madden Burke.

Minstrel Boy


After an interval Mr Dedalus raised his grog and



— That must have been highly diverting, said he. I see.



He see. He drank. With faraway mourning mountain eye. Set down his glass.

Mountains of Mourne


He looked towards the saloon door.

Gifford: 'The saloon is a large room in a one-story wing at the back
of the hotel. In 1904 it was off the bar, which was then along the western side of the hotel (today it is off the dining room). The saloon's ceiling, a large mullioned window under a skylight, combines with the floor-to-ceiling paneling of the walls to make a resonant interior. In 1904 it was used for small, relatively informal concerts, song-fests, etc.'


— I see you have moved the piano.



— The tuner was in today, Miss Douce replied, tuning it for the smoking concert and I never heard such an exquisite player.



— Is that a fact?



— Didn't he, Miss Kennedy? The real classical, you know. And blind too, poor fellow. Not twenty I'm sure he was.



— Is that a fact? Mr Dedalus said.



He drank and strayed away.



— So sad to look at his face, Miss Douce condoled.



God's curse on bitch's bastard.



Tink to her pity cried a diner's bell. To the door of the diningroom came bald Pat, came bothered Pat, came Pat, waiter of Ormond. Lager for diner. Lager without alacrity she served.



With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan with impatience, for jingle jaunty blazes boy.



Upholding the lid he (who?) gazed in the coffin (coffin?) at the oblique triple (piano!) wires. He pressed (the same who pressed indulgently her hand) soft pedalling a triple of keys to see the thicknesses of felt advancing, to hear the muffled hammerfall in action.

Simon

(was 'coffin' ever used to describe piano shapes?)
how "oblique"?

treble clef uses triple wires for volume

"muffled hammerfall" is splendid

>

mysteries:


[DD]
[IM]
[LV1]
[LV2]



sirens: 245246247248249250251252253254255256257258259260261262263264265266267268269270271272273274275276277278279

Page 251 (11.219-254) "By Jove... arms. Who?"

editions: [1922] [html] [archv]
notes: [Th] [G&S] [Dent] [∞] [wbks] [rw] [images] [hyper]
Delaney: [0] Useen: [] [cp] maps: [other] [*]

<



— By Jove, he mused, I often wanted to see the Mourne mountains. Must be a great tonic in the air down there. But a long threatening comes at last, they say. Yes, yes.



Yes. He fingered shreds of hair, her maidenhair, her mermaid's, into the bowl. Chips. Shreds. Musing. Mute.

tobacco into pipe


None nought said nothing. Yes.



Gaily Miss Douce polished a tumbler, trilling:



— O, Idolores, queen of the eastern seas!



— Was Mr Lidwell in today?



In came Lenehan. Round him peered Lenehan. Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge. Yes, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. To Martha I must write. Buy paper. Daly's. Girl there civil. Bloom. Old Bloom. Blue Bloom is on the rye.






— He was in at lunchtime, Miss Douce said.



Lenehan came forward.



— Was Mr Boylan looking for me?



He asked. She answered:



— Miss Kennedy, was Mr Boylan in while I was upstairs?



She asked. Miss voice of Kennedy answered, a second teacup poised, her gaze upon a page:



— No. He was not.



Miss gaze of Kennedy, heard not seen, read on. Lenehan round the sandwichbell wound his round body round.

— Peep! Who's in the corner?



No glance of Kennedy rewarding him he yet made overtures. To mind her stops. To read only the black ones: round o and crooked ess.

stops on organ???
black vs hollow?

rest = crooked ess?

Jingle jaunty jingle.



Girlgold she read and did not glance. Take no notice. She took no notice while he read by rote a solfa fable for her, plappering flatly:



— Ah fox met ah stork. Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you put your bill down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone?

[wiki]


He droned in vain. Miss Douce turned to her tea aside.



He sighed, aside:



— Ah me! O my!



He greeted Mr Dedalus and got a nod.



— Greetings from the famous son of a famous father.



— Who may he be? Mr Dedalus asked.



Lenehan opened most genial arms. Who?

>

mysteries:


[DD]
[IM]
[LV1]
[LV2]



sirens: 245246247248249250251252253254255256257258259260261262263264265266267268269270271272273274275276277278279

Page 250 (11.181-218) "O saints... husky fifenotes."

editions: [1922] [html] [archv]
notes: [Th] [G&S] [Dent] [∞] [wbks] [rw] [images] [hyper]
Delaney: [0] Useen: [] [cp] maps: [other] [*]

<


— O saints above! Miss Douce said, sighed above her jumping rose. I wished I hadn't laughed so much. I feel all wet.

sweaty


— O, Miss Douce! Miss Kennedy protested. You horrid thing!

(again, could they be joking about genitals??)


And flushed yet more (you horrid!), more goldenly.



By Cantwell's offices roved Greaseabloom, by Ceppi's virgins, bright of their oils. Nannetti's father hawked those things about, wheedling at doors as I. Religion pays. Must see him for that par. Eat first. I want. Not yet. At four, she said. Time ever passing. Clockhands turning. On. Where eat? The Clarence, Dolphin. On. For Raoul. Eat. If I net five guineas with those ads. The violet silk petticoats. Not yet. The sweets of sin.

oils?

Nanetti's father

the cheese sandwich was two or three hours ago


Flushed less, still less, goldenly paled.

'golden pale ale' was not yet a common phrase


Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus. Chips, picking chips off one of his rocky thumbnails. Chips. He strolled.



— O welcome back, Miss Douce.

he's a regular


He held her hand. Enjoyed her holidays?.

(not a greasy old fogey)


— Tiptop.



He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor.

100 miles north, on coast


— Gorgeous, she said. Look at the holy show I am. Lying out on the strand all day.



Bronze whiteness.



— That was exceedingly naughty of you, Mr Dedalus told her and pressed her hand indulgently. Tempting poor simple males.

she's indulgent not him?


Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away.

silky sweet slide


— O go away, she said. You're very simple, I don't think.



He was.



— Well now I am, he mused. I looked so simple in the cradle they christened me simple Simon.



— You must have been a doaty, Miss Douce made answer. And what did the doctor order today?



— Well now, he mused, whatever you say yourself. I think I'll trouble you for some fresh water and a half glass of whisky.



Jingle.

(price?)

anticipating Boylan


— With the greatest alacrity, Miss Douce agreed.



With grace of alacrity towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself. With grace she tapped a measure of gold whisky from her crystal keg. Forth from the skirt of his coat Mr Dedalus brought pouch and pipe. Alacrity she served. He blew through the flue two husky fifenotes.

(stylistic parody anticipates episode 12)

>

mysteries:


[DD]
[IM]
[LV1]
[LV2]



sirens: 245246247248249250251252253254255256257258259260261262263264265266267268269270271272273274275276277278279