"Stephen fetched the loaf and the pot of honey and the buttercooler from the locker. Buck Mulligan sat down in a sudden pet. |
- What sort of a kip is this? he said. I told her to come after eight.
- We can drink it black, Stephen said thirstily. There's a lemon in the locker.
- O, damn you and your Paris fads! Buck Mulligan said. I want Sandycove milk." (U1.337)
"Haines came in from the doorway and said quietly: |
- That woman is coming up with the milk.
- The blessings of God on you! Buck Mulligan cried, jumping up from his chair. Sit down. Pour out the tea there. The sugar is in the bag. Here, I can't go fumbling at the damned eggs.
He hacked through the fry on the dish and slapped it out on three plates, saying:" (U1.344)
|"He lunged towards his messmates in turn a thick slice of bread, impaled on his knife." (U1.363)|
"Printed by the weird sisters in the year of the big wind." (U1.367)|
The Dun Emer press-room, ca. 1903. Elizabeth Corbet Yeats is at the iron hand-press; Beatrice Cassidy, standing, is rolling out ink, and Esther Ryan is correcting proofs at the table. The rear wall of the press-room displays a mural in pastel by the poet and artist AE (George Russell).
"Mother Grogan was, one imagines, a kinswoman of Mary Ann. |
Buck Mulligan's face smiled with delight.
- Charming! he said in a finical sweet voice, showing his white teeth and blinking his eyes pleasantly. Do you think she was? Quite charming!" (U1.375)
"Then, suddenly overclouding all his features, he growled in a hoarsened rasping voice as he hewed again vigorously at the loaf: |
- For old Mary Ann
She doesn't care a damn
But, hising up her petticoats..." (U1.380)
"He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned. |
The doorway was darkened by an entering form.
- The milk, sir!
- Come in, ma'am, Mulligan said. Kinch, get the jug." (U1.388)
"An old woman came forward and stood by Stephen's elbow." (U1.389) |
Irish milksellers in a late 19c. SV.
|"He watched her pour into the measure and thence into the jug rich white milk, not hers. Old shrunken paps. She poured again a measureful and a tilly. Old and secret she had entered from a morning world, maybe a messenger." (U1.397)|
"A wandering crone, lowly form of an immortal serving her conqueror and her gay betrayer, their common cuckquean, a messenger from the secret morning. To serve or to upbraid, whether he could not tell: but scorned to beg her favour. |
- It is indeed, ma'am, Buck Mulligan said, pouring milk into their cups.
- Taste it, sir, she said.
He drank at her bidding." (U.1.404)
"- If we could live on good food like that, he said to her somewhat loudly, we wouldn't have the country full of rotten teeth and rotten guts. Living in a bogswamp, eating cheap food and the streets paved with dust, horsedung and consumptives' spits." (U3.411) |
"- Are you a medical student, sir? the old woman asked. |
- I am, ma'am, Buck Mulligan answered.
- Look at that now, she said." (U1.415)
"She bows her old head to a voice that speaks to her loudly, her bonesetter, her medicineman: me she slights. To the voice that will shrive and oil for the grave all there is of her but her woman's unclean loins, of man's flesh made not in God's likeness, the serpent's prey. And to the loud voice that now bids her be silent with wondering unsteady eyes. |
- Do you understand what he says? Stephen asked her.
- Is it French you are talking, sir? the old woman said to Haines." (U1.418)
"Haines spoke to her again a longer speech, confidently. |
- Irish, Buck Mulligan said. Is there Gaelic on you?
- I thought it was Irish, she said, by the sound of it. Are you from the west, sir?
- I am an Englishman, Haines answered.
- He's English, Buck Mulligan said, and he thinks we ought to speak Irish in Ireland.
- Sure we ought too, the old woman said, and I'm ashamed I don't speak the language myself. I'm told it's a grand language by them that knows." (U1.426)
"Buck Mulligan brought up a florin, twisted it round in his fingers and cried: |
- A miracle!
He passed it along the table towards the old woman, saying:
- Ask nothing more of me, sweet.
All I can give you I give.
Stephen laid the coin in her uneager hand.
- We'll owe twopence, he said.
- Time enough, sir, she said, taking the coin. Time enough. Good morning, sir.
She curtseyed and went out, followed by Buck Mulligan's tender chant:
- Heart of my heart, were it more,
More would be laid at your feet." (U1.451)