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Chinese Language s by Maria Kurpaska - - pages. Chinese Reflexives by W. Xian-Fu Yu - - pages. Giles - - pages. Chinese Speaker 1. Michael Schlesier - Yes, sirrah, I heard you. Ask my fellow if I be a thief. Well, you will not tell us? Yes, sir, I will tell you: yet, if you were not dunces, you would never ask me such a question; for is not he corpus naturale?
But that I am by nature phlegmatic, slow to wrath, and prone to lechery to love, I would say , it were not for you to come within forty foot of the place of execution, although I do not doubt to see you both hanged the next sessions. Christopher Marlowe 13 worships: and so, the Lord bless you, preserve you, and keep you, my dear brethren, my dear brethren! Nay, then, I fear he is fallen into that damned art for which they two are infamous through the world. Were he a stranger, and not allied to me, yet should I grieve for him.
But, come, let us go and inform the Rector, and see if he by his grave counsel can reclaim him. O, but I fear me nothing can reclaim him! Yet let us try what we can do. Now that the gloomy shadow of the earth, Longing to view Orion's drizzling look, Leaps from th' antartic world unto the sky, And dims the welkin with her pitchy breath, Faustus, begin thine incantations, And try if devils will obey thy hest, Seeing thou hast pray'd and sacrific'd to them. Valeat numen triplex Jehovoe! Ignei, aerii, aquatani spiritus, salvete!
Orientis princeps Belzebub, inferni ardentis monarcha, et Demogorgon, propitiamus vos, ut appareat et surgat Mephistophilis, quod tumeraris: per Jehovam, Gehennam, et consecratam aquam quam nunc spargo, signumque crucis quod nunc facio, et per vota nostra, ipse nunc surgat nobis dicatus Mephistophilis! How pliant is this Mephistophilis, Full of obedience and humility! Such is the force of magic and my spells: No, Faustus, thou art conjuror laureat, That canst command great Mephistophilis: Quin regis Mephistophilis fratris imagine.
Now, Faustus, what wouldst thou have me do? I charge thee wait upon me whilst I live, To do whatever Faustus shall command, Be it to make the moon drop from her sphere, Or the ocean to overwhelm the world. I am a servant to great Lucifer, And may not follow thee without his leave: No more than he commands must we perform. Did not he charge thee to appear to me? No, I came hither of mine own accord. Did not my conjuring speeches raise thee? That was the cause, but yet per accidens; For, when we hear one rack the name of God, Abjure the Scriptures and his Saviour Christ, We fly, in hope to get his glorious soul; Nor will we come, unless he use such means Whereby he is in danger to be damn'd.
Therefore the shortest cut for conjuring Is stoutly to abjure the Trinity, And pray devoutly to the prince of hell. So Faustus hath Already done; and holds this principle, There is no chief but only Belzebub; To whom Faustus doth dedicate himself. This word "damnation" terrifies not him, For he confounds hell in Elysium: His ghost be with the old philosophers! But, leaving these vain trifles of men's souls, Tell me what is that Lucifer thy lord? French abjure: abjurer, abjurez, abjure, abjurent, abjures, abjurons, abroger, annuler, supprimer, retirer.
Arch-regent and commander of all spirits. Was not that Lucifer an angel once? Yes, Faustus, and most dearly lov'd of God. How comes it, then, that he is prince of devils? O, by aspiring pride and insolence; For which God threw him from the face of heaven. And what are you that live with Lucifer? Where are you damn'd? In hell. How comes it, then, that thou art out of hell? Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it: Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God, And tasted the eternal joys of heaven, Am not tormented with ten thousand hells, In being depriv'd of everlasting bliss?
French angel: ange. What, is great Mephistophilis so passionate For being deprived of the joys of heaven? Learn thou of Faustus manly fortitude, And scorn those joys thou never shalt possess. Go bear these tidings to great Lucifer: Seeing Faustus hath incurr'd eternal death By desperate thoughts against Jove's deity, Say, he surrenders up to him his soul, So he will spare him four and twenty years, Letting him live in all voluptuousness; Having thee ever to attend on me, To give me whatsoever I shall ask, To tell me whatsoever I demand, To slay mine enemies, and aid my friends, And always be obedient to my will.
Go and return to mighty Lucifer, And meet me in my study at midnight, And then resolve me of thy master's mind. I will, Faustus. Had I as many souls as there be stars, I'd give them all for Mephistophilis. By him I'll be great emperor of the world, And make a bridge thorough the moving air, To pass the ocean with a band of men; I'll join the hills that bind the Afric shore, French band: bande, orchestre, bandelette, tranche, zone, fanfare, ruban.
Faustus And make that country continent to Spain, And both contributory to my crown: The Emperor shall not live but by my leave, Nor any potentate of Germany. Now that I have obtain'd what I desir'd, I'll live in speculation of this art, Till Mephistophilis return again. Sirrah boy, come hither. How, boy! I hope you have seen many boys with such pickadevaunts as I have: boy, quotha! Tell me, sirrah, hast thou any comings in? Ay, and goings out too; you may see else.
Alas, poor slave! Well, wilt thou serve me, and I'll make thee go like Qui mihi discipulus? How, in verse? No, sirrah; in beaten silk and staves-acre. How, how, knaves-acre! Do you hear? I would be sorry to rob you of your living. Sirrah, I say in staves-acre. Oho, oho, staves-acre! So thou shalt, whether thou beest with me or no. But, sirrah, leave your jesting, and bind yourself presently unto me for seven years, or I'll turn all the lice about thee into familiars, and they shall tear thee in pieces. Do you hear, sir?
Well, do you hear, sirrah? Why, French crowns. French beaten: battu, abattue, abattues, battue. Mass, but for the name of French crowns, a man were as good have as many English counters. And what should I do with these? Why, now, sirrah, thou art at an hour's warning, whensoever or wheresoever the devil shall fetch thee. No, no; here, take your gridirons again. Truly, I'll none of them. Truly, but you shall. Bear witness I gave them him. Bear witness I give them you again.
Well, I will cause two devils presently to fetch thee away. Let your Baliol and your Belcher come here, and I'll knock them, they were never so knocked since they were devils: say I should kill one of them, what would folks say? Baliol and Belcher,--spirits, away! What, are they gone? There was a he-devil and a she-devil: I'll tell you how you shall know them; all hedevils has horns, and all she-devils has clifts and cloven feet. Well, sirrah, follow me.
But, do you hear? I will teach thee to turn thyself to any thing, to a dog, or a cat, or a mouse, or a rat, or any thing. I'll be amongst them, i'faith. Well, sirrah, come. But, do you hear, Wagner? O Lord! I pray, sir, let Banio and Belcher go sleep. Villain, call me Master Wagner, and let thy left eye be diametarily fixed upon my right heel, with quasi vestigiis nostris insistere.
Well, I'll follow him; I'll serve him, that's flat. Now, Faustus, must Thou needs be damn'd, and canst thou not be sav'd: What boots it, then, to think of God or heaven? Away with such vain fancies, and despair; Despair in God, and trust in Belzebub: Now go not backward; no, Faustus, be resolute: Why waver'st thou? O, something soundeth in mine ears, "Abjure this magic, turn to God again!
To God? Sweet Faustus, leave that execrable art. Contrition, prayer, repentance--what of them? O, they are means to bring thee unto heaven! Rather illusions, fruits of lunacy, That make men foolish that do trust them most. French altar: autel. Sweet Faustus, think of heaven and heavenly things. No, Faustus; think of honour and of wealth.
Of wealth! Why, the signiory of Embden shall be mine. When Mephistophilis shall stand by me, What god can hurt thee, Faustus? That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives, So he will buy my service with his soul. Already Faustus hath hazarded that for thee.
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But, Faustus, thou must bequeath it solemnly, And write a deed of gift with thine own blood; For that security craves great Lucifer. If thou deny it, I will back to hell. Stay, Mephistophilis, and tell me, what good will my soul do thy lord? Enlarge his kingdom. French art: art. Is that the reason why he tempts us thus? Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris. Why, have you any pain that torture others! As great as have the human souls of men.
But, tell me, Faustus, shall I have thy soul? And I will be thy slave, and wait on thee, And give thee more than thou hast wit to ask. Ay, Mephistophilis, I give it thee. Then, Faustus, stab thine arm courageously, And bind thy soul, that at some certain day Great Lucifer may claim it as his own; And then be thou as great as Lucifer. View here the blood that trickles from mine arm, And let it be propitious for my wish. But, Faustus, thou must Write it in manner of a deed of gift.
French arm: bras, armer, accoudoir, branche, accotoir, arme. Ay, so I will [Writes]. But, Mephistophilis, My blood congeals, and I can write no more. I'll fetch thee fire to dissolve it straight. What might the staying of my blood portend? Is it unwilling I should write this bill? Why streams it not, that I may write afresh?
Why shouldst thou not? Here's fire; come, Faustus, set it on. So, now the blood begins to clear again; Now will I make an end immediately. O, what will not I do to obtain his soul? Consummatum est; this bill is ended, And Faustus hath bequeath'd his soul to Lucifer. But what is this inscription on mine arm?
Homo, fuge: whither should I fly? If unto God, he'll throw me down to hell. My senses are deceiv'd; here's nothing writ French ah: ah. Faustus I see it plain; here in this place is writ, Homo, fuge: yet shall not Faustus fly. I'll fetch him somewhat to delight his mind. Speak, Mephistophilis, what means this show? Nothing, Faustus, but to delight thy mind withal, And to shew thee what magic can perform. But may I raise up spirits when I please? Ay, Faustus, and do greater things than these. Then there's enough for a thousand souls.
Here, Mephistophilis, receive this scroll, A deed of gift of body and of soul: But yet conditionally that thou perform All articles prescrib'd between us both. Faustus, I swear by hell and Lucifer To effect all promises between us made! Then hear me read them. First, that Faustus may be a spirit in form and substance. Secondly, that Mephistophilis shall be his servant, and at his command. Thirdly, that Mephistophilis shall do for him, and bring him whatsoever he desires.
Fourthly, that he shall be in his chamber or French apparel: habillement. Christopher Marlowe 27 house invisible. Lastly, that he shall appear to the said John Faustus, at all times, in what form or shape soever he please. I, John Faustus, of Wertenberg, doctor, by these presents, do give both body and soul to Lucifer Prince of the East, and his minister Mephistophilis; and furthermore grant unto them, that, twenty-four years being expired, the articles above-written inviolate, full power to fetch or carry the said John Faustus, body and soul, flesh, blood, or goods, into their habitation wheresoever.
Speak, Faustus, do you deliver this as your deed? Ay, take it, and the devil give thee good on't! Now, Faustus, ask what thou wilt. First will I question with thee about hell. Tell me, where is the place that men call hell? Under the heavens. Ay, but whereabout? Within the bowels of these elements, Where we are tortur'd and remain for ever: Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd In one self place; for where we are is hell, And where hell is, there must we ever be: And, to conclude, when all the world dissolves, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be hell that are not heaven.
Come, I think hell's a fable. Ay, think so still, till experience change thy mind. Why, think'st thou, then, that Faustus shall be damn'd? Ay, of necessity, for here's the scroll Wherein thou hast given thy soul to Lucifer. Ay, and body too: but what of that? Think'st thou that Faustus is so fond to imagine That, after this life, there is any pain? Tush, these are trifles and mere old wives' tales. But, Faustus, I am an instance to prove the contrary, For I am damn'd, and am now in hell. Nay, an this be hell, I'll willingly be damn'd here: What!
But, leaving off this, let me have a wife, The fairest maid in Germany; For I am wanton and lascivious, And cannot live without a wife. I prithee, Faustus, talk not of a wife. Nay, sweet Mephistophilis, fetch me one, for I will have one. French disputing: disputant. Well, thou wilt have one? Tell me, Faustus, how dost thou like thy wife?
A plague on her for a hot whore! Tut, Faustus, Marriage is but a ceremonial toy; If thou lovest me, think no more of it. I'll cull thee out the fairest courtezans, And bring them every morning to thy bed: She whom thine eye shall like, thy heart shall have, Be she as chaste as was Penelope, As wise as Saba, or as beautiful As was bright Lucifer before his fall.
Hold, take this book, peruse it thoroughly: [Gives book. Thanks, Mephistophilis: yet fain would I have a book wherein I might behold all spells and incantations, that I might raise up spirits when I please. French armour: armure, blinder, blindage. Here they are in this book. Now would I have a book where I might see all characters and planets of the heavens, that I might know their motions and dispositions.
Here they are too. Nay, let me have one book more,--and then I have done,-- wherein I might see all plants, herbs, and trees, that grow upon the earth. Here they be. O, thou art deceived. Tut, I warrant thee. When I behold the heavens, then I repent, And curse thee, wicked Mephistophilis, Because thou hast depriv'd me of those joys. Why, Faustus, Thinkest thou heaven is such a glorious thing? I tell thee, 'tis not half so fair as thou, Or any man that breathes on earth.
How prov'st thou that? If it were made for man, 'twas made for me: I will renounce this magic and repent. Faustus, repent; yet God will pity thee. Thou art a spirit; God cannot pity thee. Who buzzeth in mine ears I am a spirit? Ay, but Faustus never shall repent. My heart's so harden'd, I cannot repent: Scarce can I name salvation, faith, or heaven, But fearful echoes thunder in mine ears, "Faustus, thou art damn'd! Faustus Made music with my Mephistophilis? Why should I die, then, or basely despair? I am resolv'd; Faustus shall ne'er repent. Tell me, are there many heavens above the moon Are all celestial bodies but one globe, As is the substance of this centric earth?
As are the elements, such are the spheres, Mutually folded in each other's orb, And, Faustus, All jointly move upon one axletree, Whose terminine is term'd the world's wide pole; Nor are the names of Saturn, Mars, or Jupiter Feign'd, but are erring stars. But, tell me, have they all one motion, both situ et tempore?
All jointly move from east to west in twenty-four hours upon the poles of the world; but differ in their motion upon the poles of the zodiac. Tush, These slender trifles Wagner can decide: Hath Mephistophilis no greater skill? Who knows not the double motion of the planets?
The first is finish'd in a natural day; The second thus; as Saturn in thirty years; Jupiter in twelve; Mars in four; the Sun, Venus, and Mercury in a year; the Moon in twenty-eight days. Tush, these are freshmen's suppositions. But, tell me, hath every sphere a dominion or intelligentia? French argue: se disputer, arraisonner, arguer, argumenter. How many heavens or spheres are there? Nine; the seven planets, the firmament, and the empyreal heaven. Well, resolve me in this question; why have we not conjunctions, oppositions, aspects, eclipses, all at one time, but in some years we have more, in some less?
Per inoequalem motum respectu totius. Well, I am answered. Tell me who made the world? I will not. Sweet Mephistophilis, tell me. Move me not, for I will not tell thee. Villain, have I not bound thee to tell me any thing? The corridors were darkly lit and the chapel was darkly lit.
Soon all would be dark and sleeping. There was cold night air in the chapel and the marbles were the colour the sea was at night.
The sea was cold day and night: but it was colder at night. It was cold and dark under the seawall beside his father's house. But the kettle would be on the hob to make punch. The prefect of the chapel prayed above his head and his memory knew the responses:. O Lord open our lips And our mouths shall announce Thy praise. Incline unto our aid, O God! O Lord make haste to help us! There was a cold night smell in the chapel. But it was a holy smell. It was not like the smell of the old peasants who knelt at the back of the chapel at Sunday mass.
That was a smell of air and rain and turf and corduroy. But they were very holy peasants. They breathed behind him On his neck and sighed as they prayed. They lived in Clane, a fellow said: there were little cottages there and he had seen a woman standing at the half-door of a cottage with a child in her arms as the cars had come past from Sallins. It would be lovely to sleep for one night in that.
Korean corduroy: , , , , ,. But O, the road there between the trees was dark! You would be lost in the dark.
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It made him afraid to think of how it was. He prayed it too against the dark outside under the trees. Visit, we beseech Thee, o Lord, this habitation and drive away from it all the snares of the enemy. May Thy holy angels dwell herein to preserve us in peace and may Thy blessings be always upon us through Christ Our Lord.
His fingers trembled as he undressed himself in the dormitory. He told his fingers to hurry up. He had to undress and then kneel and say his own prayers and be in bed before the gas was lowered so that he might not go to hell when he died. He rolled his stockings off and put on his nightshirt quickly and knelt trembling at his bedside and repeated his prayers quickly, fearing that the gas would go down.
He felt his shoulders shaking as he murmured:. God bless my father and my mother and spare them to me! God bless my little brothers and sisters and spare them to me! God bless Dante and Uncle Charles and spare them to me! He blessed himself and climbed quickly into bed and, tucking the end of the nightshirt under his feet, curled himself together under the cold white sheets, shaking and trembling. But he would not go to hell when he died; and the shaking would stop. A voice bade the boys in the dormitory good night. He peered out for an instant over the coverlet and saw the yellow curtains round and before his bed that shut him off on all sides.
The light was lowered quietly. The prefect's shoes went away. Down the staircase and along the corridors or to his room at the end? He saw the dark. Was it true about the black. Korean amen: , , , dwell: , , turf: , , , , ,. They said it was the ghost of a murderer. A long shiver of fear flowed over his body. He saw the dark entrance hall of the castle. Old servants in old dress were in the ironing- room above the staircase. It was long ago. The old servants were quiet. There was a fire there, but the hall was still dark.
A figure came up the staircase from the hall. He wore the white cloak of a marshal; his face was pale and strange; he held his hand pressed to his side. He looked out of strange eyes at the old servants. They looked at him and saw their master's face and cloak and knew that he had received his death-wound. But only the dark was where they looked: only dark silent air. Their master had received his death-wound on the battlefield of Prague far away over the sea.
He was standing on the field; his hand was pressed to his side; his face was pale and strange and he wore the white cloak of a marshal. All the dark was cold and strange. There were pale strange faces there, great eyes like carriage-lamps. They were the ghosts of murderers, the figures of marshals who had received their death-wound on battlefields far away over the sea. What did they wish to say that their faces were so strange? Going home for the holidays! That would be lovely: the fellows had told him.
Getting up on the cars in the early wintry morning outside the door of the castle. The cars were rolling on the gravel. Cheers for the rector! The cars drove past the chapel and all caps were raised. They drove merrily along the country roads. The drivers pointed with their whips to Bodenstown. The fellows cheered. They passed the farmhouse of the Jolly Farmer. Cheer after cheer after cheer. Through Clane they drove, cheering and cheered. The peasant women stood at the half-doors, the men stood here and there. The lovely smell.
Korean battlefield: , ,. The guards went to and fro opening, closing, locking, unlocking the doors. They were men in dark blue and silver; they had silvery whistles and their keys made a quick music: click, click: click, click. And the train raced on over the flat lands and past the Hill of Allen. The telegraph poles were passing, passing. The train went on and on. It knew. There were lanterns in the hall of his father's house and ropes of green branches. There were holly and ivy round the pierglass and holly and ivy, green and red, twined round the chandeliers.
There were red holly and green ivy round the old portraits on the walls. Holly and ivy for him and for Christmas. All the people. Welcome home, Stephen! Noises of welcome. His mother kissed him. Was that right? His father was a marshal now: higher than a magistrate. There was a noise of curtain-rings running back along the rods, of water being splashed in the basins. There was a noise of rising and dressing and washing in the dormitory: a noise of clapping of hands as the prefect went up and down telling the fellows to look sharp.
A pale sunlight showed the yellow curtains drawn back, the tossed beds. His bed was very hot and his face and body were very hot. He got up and sat on the side of his bed. He was weak. He tried to pull on his stocking. It had a horrid rough feel. The sunlight was queer and cold. Fleming said: --Are you not well? He did not know; and Fleming said: --Get back into bed. I'll tell McGlade you're not well.
Korean branches:. A fellow held his arms while he loosened the stocking clinging to his foot and climbed back into the hot bed. He crouched down between the sheets, glad of their tepid glow. He heard the fellows talk among themselves about him as they dressed for mass. It was a mean thing to do, to shoulder him into the square ditch, they were saying. A voice at his bed said: --Dedalus, don't spy on us, sure you won't? Wells's face was there.
He looked at it and saw that Wells was afraid.
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Sure you won't? His father had told him, whatever he did, never to peach on a fellow. He shook his head and answered no and felt glad. Wells said: --I didn't mean to, honour bright. It was only for cod. I'm sorry. The face and the voice went away. Sorry because he was afraid. Afraid that it was some disease.
Canker was a disease of plants and cancer one of animals: or another different. That was a long time ago then out on the playgrounds in the evening light, creeping from point to point on the fringe of his line, a heavy bird flying low through the grey light. Leicester Abbey lit up. Wolsey died there. The abbots buried him themselves. It was not Wells's face, it was the prefect's. He was not foxing.
No, no: he was sick really. And he felt the prefect's hand on his forehead; and he felt his forehead warm and damp against the prefect's cold damp hand. That was the way a rat felt, slimy and damp and cold. Every rat had two eyes to look out of. Sleek slimy coats, little little feet tucked up to jump, black slimy eyes Korean clinging: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,.
They could understand how to jump. But the minds of rats could not understand trigonometry. When they were dead they lay on their sides. Their coats dried then. They were only dead things. And while he was dressing himself as quickly as he could the prefect said: --We must pack off to Brother Michael because we have the collywobbles! He was very decent to say that. That was all to make him laugh. But he could not laugh because his cheeks and lips were all shivery: and then the prefect had to laugh by himself.
The prefect cried: --Quick march!
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They went together down the staircase and along the corridor and past the bath. As he passed the door he remembered with a vague fear the warm turf- coloured bogwater, the warm moist air, the noise of plunges, the smell of the towels, like medicine. Brother Michael was standing at the door of the infirmary and from the door of the dark cabinet on his right came a smell like medicine.
That came from the bottles on the shelves. The prefect spoke to Brother Michael and Brother Michael answered and called the prefect sir. He had reddish hair mixed with grey and a queer look. It was queer that he would always be a brother. It was queer too that you could not call him sir because he was a brother and had a different kind of look. Was he not holy enough or why could he not catch up on the others? There were two beds in the room and in one bed there was a fellow: and when they went in he called out: --Hello!
It's young Dedalus! What's up? Korean cheeks: ,. He was a fellow out of the third of grammar and, while Stephen was undressing, he asked Brother Michael to bring him a round of buttered toast. You'll get your walking papers in the morning when the doctor comes. I'm not well yet. Brother Michael repeated: --You'll get your walking papers. I tell you. He bent down to rake the fire. He had a long back like the long back of a tramhorse. He shook the poker gravely and nodded his head at the fellow out of third of grammar.
Then Brother Michael went away and after a while the fellow out of third of grammar turned in towards the wall and fell asleep. That was the infirmary. He was sick then. Had they written home to tell his mother and father? But it would be quicker for one of the priests to go himself to tell them.
Or he would write a letter for the priest to bring. Dear Mother, I am sick. I want to go home. Please come and take me home. I am in the infirmary. Your fond son, Stephen How far away they were! There was cold sunlight outside the window. He wondered if he would die. You could die just the same on a sunny day. He might die before his mother came. Then he would have a dead mass in the chapel like the way the fellows had told him it was when Little had died. All the fellows would be at the mass, dressed in black, all with sad faces.
Wells too would be there but no fellow would look at him. The rector would be there in a cope of black and gold and there would be tall yellow candles on the altar and round the catafalque. And they would carry the coffin out of the chapel slowly Korean altar: , ,. And Wells would be sorry then for what he had done. And the bell would toll slowly. He said over to himself the song that Brigid had taught him.
The castle bell! Farewell, my mother! Bury me in the old churchyard Beside my eldest brother. My coffin shall be black, Six angels at my back, Two to sing and two to pray And two to carry my soul away. How beautiful and sad that was! How beautiful the words were where they said Bury me in the old churchyard! A tremor passed over his body.
How sad and how beautiful! He wanted to cry quietly but not for himself: for the words, so beautiful and sad, like music. The bell! O farewell! The cold sunlight was weaker and Brother Michael was standing at his bedside with a bowl of beef-tea. He was glad for his mouth was hot and dry. He could hear them playing in the playgrounds. And the day was going on in the college just as if he were there.
Then Brother Michael was going away and the fellow out of the third of grammar told him to be sure and come back and tell him all the news in the paper. He told Stephen that his name was Athy and that his father kept a lot of racehorses that were spiffing jumpers and that his father would give a good tip to Brother Michael any time he wanted it because Brother Michael was very decent and always told him the news out of the paper they got every day up in the castle.
There was every kind of news in the paper: accidents, shipwrecks, sports, and politics. Korean avenue: , , , , , , , ,. Do your people talk about that too? Then he thought for a moment and said: --You have a queer name, Dedalus, and I have a queer name too, Athy. My name is the name of a town. Your name is like Latin. Then he asked: --Are you good at riddles? Stephen answered: --Not very good. Then he said: --Can you answer me this one? Why is the county of Kildare like the leg of a fellow's breeches?
Stephen thought what could be the answer and then said: --I give it up. Do you see the joke? Athy is the town in the county Kildare and a thigh is the other thigh. After a moment he said: --I say! Do you know the other way to ask it? Then he lay back on the pillow and said: --There is another way but I won't tell you what it is. Why did he not tell it? His father, who kept the racehorses, must be a magistrate too like Saurin's father and Nasty Roche's father. He thought of his own father, of how he sang songs while his mother played and of how he always gave him a shilling when he asked for sixpence and he felt sorry for him that he was not a magistrate like the other boys' fathers.
Then why was he sent to that place with them? But his father had told him that he would be no stranger there because his granduncle had presented an address to the liberator there fifty years before. You could know the people of that time by their old dress. It seemed to him a solemn time: and he wondered if that was the time when the fellows in Clongowes wore blue coats with brass buttons and yellow waistcoats and caps of rabbitskin and drank beer like grown-up people and kept greyhounds of their own to course the hares with.
He looked at the window and saw that the daylight had grown weaker. There would be cloudy grey light over the playgrounds. There was no noise on the playgrounds. The class must be doing the themes or perhaps Father Arnall was reading out of the book. It was queer that they had not given him any medicine.
Perhaps Brother Michael would bring it back when he came. They said you got stinking stuff to drink when you were in the infirmary. But he felt better now than before.
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It would be nice getting better slowly. You could get a book then. There was a book in the library about Holland. There were lovely foreign names in it and pictures of strange looking cities and ships. It made you feel so happy. How pale the light was at the window! But that was nice. The fire rose and fell on the wall. It was like waves. Someone had put coal on and he heard voices.
They were talking. It was the noise of the waves. Or the waves were talking among themselves as they rose and fell. Korean bedclothes:. He saw the sea of waves, long dark waves rising and falling, dark under the moonless night. A tiny light twinkled at the pierhead where the ship was entering: and he saw a multitude of people gathered by the waters' edge to see the ship that was entering their harbour. A tall man stood on the deck, looking out towards the flat dark land: and by the light at the pierhead he saw his face, the sorrowful face of Brother Michael.
We saw him lying upon the catafalque. A wail of sorrow went up from the people. He is dead! They fell upon their knees, moaning in sorrow. And he saw Dante in a maroon velvet dress and with a green velvet mantle hanging from her shoulders walking proudly and silently past the people who knelt by the water's edge.
A great fire, banked high and red, flamed in the grate and under the ivy- twined branches of the chandelier the Christmas table was spread. They had come home a little late and still dinner was not ready: but it would be ready in a jiffy his mother had said. They were waiting for the door to open and for the servants to come in, holding the big dishes covered with their heavy metal covers. All were waiting: uncle Charles, who sat far away in the shadow of the window, Dante and Mr Casey, who sat in the easy-chairs at either side of the hearth, Stephen, seated on a chair between them, his feet resting on the toasted boss.
Mr Dedalus looked at himself in the pierglass above the mantelpiece,. Korean banked:. Mr Casey leaned his head to one side and, smiling, tapped the gland of his-neck with his fingers. And Stephen smiled too for he knew now that it was not true that Mr Casey had a purse of silver in his throat. He smiled to think how the silvery noise which Mr Casey used to make had deceived him. And when he had tried to open Mr Casey's hand to see if the purse of silver was hidden there he had seen that the fingers could not be straightened out: and Mr Casey had told him that he had got those three cramped fingers making a birthday present for Queen Victoria.
Mr Casey tapped the gland of his neck and smiled at Stephen with sleepy eyes: and Mr Dedalus said to him: --Yes. Well now, that's all right. O, we had a good walk, hadn't we, John? I wonder if there's any likelihood of dinner this evening. O, well now, we got a good breath of ozone round the Head today. Ay, bedad.
Dante frowned and said shortly: --No. Mr Dedalus dropped his coat-tails and went over to the sideboard. He brought forth a great stone jar of whisky from the locker and filled the decanter slowly, bending now and then to see how much he had poured in. Then replacing the jar in the locker he poured a little of the whisky into two glasses, added a little water and came back with them to the fireplace. Mr Casey took the glass, drank, and placed it near him on the mantelpiece. Then he said: --Well, I can't help thinking of our friend Christopher manufacturing. He broke into a fit of laughter and coughing and added:.
Korean ay: ,!
There's more cunning in one of those warts on his bald head than in a pack of jack foxes. He inclined his head, closed his eyes, and, licking his lips profusely, began to speak with the voice of the hotel keeper. He's very moist and watery about the dewlaps, God bless him. Mr Casey was still struggling through his fit of coughing and laughter. Stephen, seeing and hearing the hotel keeper through his father's face and voice, laughed.
Mr Dedalus put up his eyeglass and, staring down at him, said quietly and kindly: --What are you laughing at, you little puppy, you? The servants entered and placed the dishes on the table. Mrs Dedalus followed and the places were arranged. Mr Dedalus went to the end of the table and said: --Now, Mrs Riordan, sit over.
John, sit you down, my hearty. He looked round to where uncle Charles sat and said: --Now then, sir, there's a bird here waiting for you. When all had taken their seats he laid his hand on the cover and then said quickly, withdrawing it: --Now, Stephen. Stephen stood up in his place to say the grace before meals:.
All blessed themselves and Mr Dedalus with a sigh of pleasure lifted from the dish the heavy cover pearled around the edge with glistening drops. He knew that his father had paid a guinea for it in Dunn's of D'Olier Street and that the man had prodded it often at the breastbone to show how good it was: and he remembered the man's voice when he had said: --Take that one, sir. That's the real Ally Daly. Why did Mr Barrett in Clongowes call his pandybat a turkey? But Clongowes was far away: and the warm heavy smell of turkey and ham and celery rose from the plates and dishes and the great fire was banked high and red in the grate and the green ivy and red holly made you feel so happy and when dinner was ended the big plum pudding would be carried in, studded with peeled almonds and sprigs of holly, with bluish fire running around it and a little green flag flying from the top.
It was his first Christmas dinner and he thought of his little brothers and sisters who were waiting in the nursery, as he had often waited, till the pudding came. The deep low collar and the Eton jacket made him feel queer and oldish: and that morning when his mother had brought him down to the parlour, dressed for mass, his father had cried. That was because he was thinking of his own father. And uncle Charles had said so too. Mr Dedalus covered the dish and began to eat hungrily. Then he said: --Poor old Christy, he's nearly lopsided now with roguery.
Mr Dedalus seized the sauceboat. Mrs Riordan, pity the poor blind. Dante covered her plate with her hands and said: --No, thanks. Mr Dedalus turned to uncle Charles. Korean blessed: , , , oldish: ,. Go on yourself. Here, Stephen, here's something to make your hair curl. He poured sauce freely over Stephen's plate and set the boat again on the table. Then he asked uncle Charles was it tender. Uncle Charles could not speak because his mouth was full; but he nodded that it was. If they took a fool's advice they would confine their attention to religion.
They are doing their duty in warning the people. They are right. They must direct their flocks. It is a question of public morality. A priest would not be a priest if he did not tell his flock what is right and what is wrong. Mrs Dedalus laid down her knife and fork, saying: --For pity sake and for pity sake let us have no political discussion on this day of all days in the year. Korean addresses:. Now, Simon, that's quite enough now. Not another word now. He uncovered the dish boldly and said: --Now then, who's for more turkey? Nobody answered. Dante said: --Nice language for any catholic to use!
Dante turned on her and said: --And am I to sit here and listen to the pastors of my church being flouted? Too bad! Were we to desert him at the bidding of the English people? He was a public sinner. It would be better for him that a millstone were tied about his neck and that he were cast into the depths of the sea rather than that he should scandalize one of these, my least little ones.