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endlessly-cursed · 2 years ago
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HL- Annabel Cifuentes
"𝘼 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙨. 𝘼 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩."
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Name: Annabel Fernanda María Isabel Cifuentes de Borja 
Nicknames: Ana, Annie, Doña Annabel 
Birthdate: 7th of May, 1855 
Zodiac Sign: Taurus 
Personality Type (MBTI): TBD 
Blood Status: Muggleborn 
Nationality: Spanish 
Physical Appearance
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Hair: Light brown 
Eyes: Hazel 
Height: 1.65m 
Weight: 63kg 
Body Type: Slim 
Skin Tone: Fair 
Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): None 
Background
Hometown
Annabel grew up in the noble family of Cifuentes, growing up in the lap of luxury, unaware of the ongoings of an unstable period for Spain. Aged sixteen, she ran away from home when she was forced by her father to marry a man twenty years her senior and stumbled upon Hogsmeade. Phineas Falcon found her and decided to take her in, and that patronage would earn her a position as a Divination professor in the year 1879
Family
Mother: María Consuelo de Borja Serrano 
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A beautiful and exemplary woman of the time, her marriage was arranged to Don Cifuentes when she was sixteen, and her cheerful and supportive personality enthralled the twenty-five year old man, who was quick to have six children with her, only two surviving infancy. María doesn’t know where in England her daughter is, but she knows that she is safe and fine. 
Father: Don Alfonso José Cifuentes Villalba 
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An ambitious politician who worked with Serrano and Narváez, he was the head of the Cifuentes family and in obligation to marry, and thus decided that he ought to marry someone who brought a bit of laughter to the house, and he met his match with María Consuelo. She was cheerful, kind and what he needed. He hasn’t been able to find Annabel, but knows that she is in England 
Hogwarts
House: Hufflepuff 
Boggart: Her father dragging her to the altar 
Riddikulus: A devil instead drags him to a lake 
Patronus: TBD 
Patronus Memory: Reading in the gazebo at her estate 
Mirror of Erised: Marrying for love rather than money and duty 
Amortentia (what she smells like): Roses, lavender, eau de cologne, cocido and new books 
Amortentia (what she smells): TBD 
Career
17-24: Apprentice 
25-55: Divination professor at Hogwarts 
56-64: Pianist 
65+: Retiree 
Personality & Attitude
Priorities: Being away from her father, learn as much as she can, be free 
Strengths: Kind, soft-spoken, sweet and emotionally intelligent 
Weaknesses: People-pleaser, struggles with the language 
Stressed: When talking about her past 
Calm/Comforted: When reading divination books 
Favorites
Colors: Yellow, maroon, green, hazel and white 
Weather: Sunny with few clouds 
Hobbies: Reading, baking, learning more about divination and playing the piano 
Fashion: Annabel initially dresses like a lady of her time, but later in life is one of the first female professors to wear trousers and vests, defying the norms 
Relationships
Significant Other/Love Interest: TBD 
Friends: Phineas Falcon 
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Phineas saw potential in Annabel and was quick to take her under his wing. The two of them were like siblings, she being the sister he would’ve liked. 
Owen Capell ( @camillejeaneshphm​ ) 
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[INFO TBD] 
Rivals: None 
Trivia
Annabel met Phineas by chance: she was lost in the Three Broomsticks and wanted to ask for directions. She bumped into this big, strong man and he noticed her. With a bit of help, he could understand her situation and decided to take her in until she was fully independant and help him keep an eye on his wild daughter 
She discovered her gift for divination by casualty: she was following the itinerary when she decided to give it a shot, and actually predicted who Phineas’s daughter was in love with. She decided to explore further on her own what she could do: she predicted the whereabouts of the then Prince Alfonso (future Alfonso XII) and the Manifest of Sandhurst 
She loves spicy and savoury food, which raised a few eyebrows, especially with Principal Black, who shared the misogynistic views that spicy food made of women wild and ‘whores’, which proved to be wrong, given Annabel’s sweet and composed nature 
Her favourite student was Nilufer Sultan, whom she related: they took coffee together and shared tales of their Mediterranean summers and leaving their beloved countries to find themselves here. She was the one to predict that she’d find her way back to Simon 
She also had a dream about a battle that would end up being the Somme and soon advised the Ministry not to send too many soldiers to such bloodbath; she was rewarded with 100 pounds 
Nilufer called her to Constantinople to make some predictions about the empire and her future, and proved to be right in most things: she’d find Simon again, the empire was most likely to fall and she’d outlive whoever she married. 
She continued to teach in Hogwarts up until she was fifty-five and loved teaching the children of her former students. Her favourite was Alexandra Somerset, whom resembled the Lady Gray very much 
She died aged 110 years-old in Mallorca, in a villa she purchased under the name “Valeria Martín.” 
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camillejeaneshphm · 2 years ago
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misslisterkeepsajournal · 5 years ago
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1822 Thursday 18 July
6 1/2
12
At 8 1/4 my aunt and I set off (a cunning little girl our guide - picked her up in the village) to see the cataract Rhiader Mawr - the girl pronounced Rhiader as tho’ pronounced adder - going and returning took us 1 49/60 hour rained all the time more or less, but gentle and not so as to wet one much - my aunt thought the cataract not worth the trouble we had had -
Breakfasted - the milk in the house all sour - desired the waiter to get some elsewhere - no body kept any cows or even goats and no milk to be had - sent for the mistress (Mrs Lewis) she was very civil said it was a shame to live in the country and have no milk, and she sent somewhere, borrowed a pint, and I had at last caffée au lait as usual, and a good breakfast - In paying the bill they gave me in change 2 Irish tenpennys, but valued them at only 9d. - I gave the waiter 1 of these and 2d., and the chamber the other (i.e. 9d.) not giving her anything for my bed, because the sheets were certainly not clean of which I took care to tell both her and her mistress - As they told we could get nothing for the horses at the slate quarries, we took 2 feeds of corn (16d.) with us wrapt up in the plaid - the clouds looked very threatening -
Left Aber at 11 10/60, and in 1 1/2 hour at 12 40/60, on account of a heavy shower, stopt a neat looking small house by the wayside (Mr Jones’s the Tin y Mis Inn, as the chamber maid spelt it, 7 miles from Bangor and 8 from Capel Curig) - Detained here 1 1/2 hour it rained almost all the while, and, besides, Percy had his near hind shoe fastened on - the vale of Nant Frangon began about a mile from Tin y Mis Inn with the slate quarries - drove forwards about 3 1/2 miles to within 4 or 5 miles of Capel Curig, a good way beyond the end of Ogwen pool - the scenery, the tremendous mountains on each side all the way, particularly bordering the lake, sublime and savagely grand - It was aobut 3 hours from our leaving Tin y Mis to our going into the slate quarry which we entered at 4 1/4 and staid 1/2 hour - it rained very heavily all the while and afterwards till we got back to Llandegai (2 miles from here, Bangor) where we turned to our left this morning to Nant Frangon - we turned off to the slate quarries to the left as we returned from Ogwen pool at the last turnpike before Llandegai - owing to some men standing by we took a round in going and were 20 minutes from the high road to the quarries we returned a nearer way in 10 minutes -
The quarries very well worth seeing - shewn us by an overlooker John Hughes, a better sort of workman allowed allowed 14/. a week - 9 hundred and 2 or 3 men employed in all the quarries (belonging now to Mr Pennant who succeeded to the estates of the late Lord Penrhyn, and who, Evan JOnes the Snowdon guide told us had 28,000 a year clearing 18,000 by the quarries) - we saw the largest quarry 450 men employed in it - they were pulling down huge masses of slate with ropes - or rather the ropes were fastened to or about the rock for the men to climb up by, and split or rend off the masses with large iron wedges - others were blasting the rock with gunpowder - this so lacerates the rock, they only do it when other means fail - we went thro’ a longish tunnel from one quarrry to another 60 yards deep - slates different sizes - the largest £7 a thousand delivered at Port Penrhyn (close to Bangor) the smallest 4/6 a thousand - good workmen can earn about £2 a month - each one pays 4/. a month towards clearing away the waste made in getting and dressing the slates - and what more is required is paid by Mr Pennant - the refuse is carted out along the side of the hill, and has a striking effect (like so many pit-hills as we call them) at a distance # - 
We particularly admired the small scattered town and very neat looking church of Llandegai, and should have liked to visit Penrhyn castle at a short distance from it on the right, going from Conwy to Bangor had we had time etc - The castle is approached from Llandegai by a fine gothic gateway under a handsome dog-toothed Saxon church like arch - this, however, struck me as rather inconsistent with a regular castle gate - not yet quite finished - Got out at the Castle Inn, Bangor (at the back of the cathedral) at 6 - Drove down to the bishop’s palace (I suppose it is) at first, and thence directed to the castle - It is the best Inn in the place, but bad enough and dirty enough - quite full - 2 very small hot uncomfortable looking rooms at the top of the house - and a sitting room on the left of the entrance on the ground floor next the street - and even about this we had some difficulty, finding other company when we returned from the Cathedral, and obliged to civilly turn them out, tho’ here before us - A reverend Mr and his daughter Miss Jones from Ruthin -
Walked out before dinner - a very poor little town, and very paltry Cathedral - A great long sword upon a flat table in a niche bespoke the tomb of Owen Glendwr - Suspecting that we ought to have gone to the Penrhyn arms at Port Penrhyn, close upon Bangor, perhaps 1/2 mile off, - I walked to see and be convinced - this is a dirty bustling coach-house - Perhaps Bangor ferry would have suited us much better; but Mr William Henry Rawson said “avoid Bangor ferry” - we shall see it tomorrow - I wish I had not minded this - however, we mean to be off at 7 in the morning and breakfast at the hotel at Caernarvon - we had mullet to dinner (sat down at 7 1/2) well dressed and good - a large too-short-a-time-kept leg of mutton, and a goodish currant tart (pie) - settled the accounts and wrote this journal of today after dinner - It seems to have been fair all the evening - Finished this at 10 1/2 and then went upstairs to bed -
# In returning just as we passed the bridge from the quarries and got back to the turnpike close to it, a flash of vivid lightening came across us immediately followed by a loud peal of thunder, and the rain which had begun just before we got to the quarries, continued till within a couple of miles of Bangor
Reference: SH:7/ML/E/6/0027 - SH:7/ML/E/6/0028
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dry-valleys · 6 years ago
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“[Henry II] assembled a very powerful army of the picked warriors of England, and Normandy, and Flanders, and Gascony, and Anjou, and the whole of the north. He reached Oswestry with the intention of wiping out the Welsh completely” The Chronicle of the Princes, Welsh text describing the events of 1165.
Beginning at the Iron Age hillfort, as I entered the town I had occasion to reflect that it’s long been a battleground; it’s name, deriving from Oswald’s tree (Croesowallt, Oswald’s cross, in Welsh) refers to a battle fought here in the 7th century, which was certainly not the first or last bloodshed here.
The forces of Penda, last pagan king of Mercia, joined together with the Welsh (the indigneous people of this area, who still hoped to wrest it back from the Saxons) against the armies of Oswald, King of Northumbria.
While the rights and wrongs of this conflict are complicated, Oswald’s status as a Christian warrior and Mercia’s status as a bastion of paganism have led Oswald to be sanctified; literally so, as after his defeat and death at the Battle of Maserfield in 642 (believed to have been fought in or very near Oswestry) he has been revered as a saint and the parish church is devoted to him. (2 is Oswald’s Well, which in legend sprung up miraculously when an eagle dropped part of his body here).
This didn’t settle matters and Oswestry lay near to Offa’s Dyke, the boundary between Mercia and the Welsh lands laid down by Mercian king Offa in the 8th century, and was on the English side then as now, though the Welsh never fully accepted this.
In 1066 both Saxons and Celts felt the force of a new conqueror, the Normans, and they constructed Oswestry Castle soon afterwards. Owned by Alan fitz Flaad and his heirs, the FitzAlan family, it was never used as a permanent residence but as a base for subduing English, Welsh and Danish locals.
Soon after its construction England fell prey to a period of civil war called The Anarchy, and as would-be monarchs Stephen and Maud fought for power, the Welsh seized their chance and Welsh prince Madog ap Mareddud captured Oswestry in 1146.
This Welsh resurgence wasn’t to last and the rise of Henry II (1154-89) stabilised and strengthened England, so that the FitzAlans returned to Oswestry and while his Welsh campaign of 1165 was generally a failure, Oswestry was safely English from then on.
After this Oswestry declined in military significance and the townsfolk must have hoped to live in perpetual peace, but that changed on the outbreak of the Civil Wars. With the support of most locals, Arthur Capell, Baron Hadham, held the town for Charles I, but in 1644 it was conquered by Parliamentarian forces led by Thomas Mytton. Sadly this victorious army slighted the castle so thoroughly that what you see is all that remains.
The town, however, prospered, the railway arriving in 1860 and commemorated at the railway museum, and the best symbols of this are the church (restored by George Edmund Street in 1872-74) and (7) the guildhall, designed by Henry Cheers and built 1893 (since 2012 a fine museum).
The Victorian and Edwardian prosperity was interrupted, though, by the outbreak of World War 1, in which Park Hall near Oswestry became a famous training camp whose trainees included Wilfred Owen (who had been born here and is commemorated in (10) the statue in Cae Glas Park.
The Men on the Gates project has extensively researched the war dead, commemorated on the gates of the park in (8), of whom there are 303 from World War 1, Owen of course included, and 86 from World War 2.
Oswestry suffered further setbacks such as the thoughtless closure of the railway in 1966 and of Ifton Colliery in 1968 but has proven resilient. Despite all the bloodshed, and the attempts at wiping out carried out by Henry II and his successors, here one can still reverently drink from the two streams, English and Welsh, which feed into Oswestry as it still is.
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cymdeithasceredigion · 4 years ago
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Cystadleuaeth Cadair Pat Neill – Aros – Huw Dylan Owen, Treforys (ffugenw: Derfel)
Aros
Pen Set
Er y brys, rhwydd a di-oed fu f'oedi, 
Cefais ffics o Netflix a dyna ni
Yno'n ddiddos. Heb os roedd 'na bwysau 
Lasŵ o'm hamgylch, teimlo'r cylch yn cau. 
O'r sgrin mewn cowboi-siwt ai fy nhiwtor 
Welwn â drylliau ’stadegau di-dor?
Ond llawenydd oedd hirddydd cyfforddus
O heddwch iach a sleboga'n ddi-chwys.
Tu hwnt i'r hoe a phaned roedd dedlain
Nad oedd yn cymell, fel llinell mewn llain
A her iasol hen gowboi i'w chroesi
Ar ei geffyl gwyn yn fy nychryn i.
O'r fan hyn mae'n llinell bell sydd yn bod
I herio a minnau ar ddisberod.
 Llain Galed M4
Yn wyrthiol rhwng sbwriel gwrthun - a mwg 
Mewn man diamddiffyn
Yn iach a hardd ymysg chwyn 
Mae haul y blodau melyn.
 Ni Fethodd Gweddi Daer Erioed
Gwylia hon a’i goleuni yn cerdded
I’r cwrdd yn ei chloffni
I heddwch ei thŷ gweddi,
Y gynta’ i’w hoedfa yw hi.
  I oedfa o henoed lledfyw – wele'r 
Wylaidd drwy dre ddidduw
Yn baglu i Dŷ ei Duw, 
Annedwydd unig ydyw.
 Yn unig cerdd ei hunan â’i hysgryd,
Yn fusgrell fel cryman
 chamau yn ei chwman
I gael awr o’r ysbryd glân.
 Un awr lân aiff ar liniau – un orig
O fore’i gweddïau,
Awr hir o edifarhau
Un awr a’i thaith yn oriau.
  Hir artaith fu’r daith y dwthwn – hwnnw, 
Di-hoen, di-emosiwn
A bas a di-demtasiwn
Ydyw crwydr ei hollfyd crwn.
  Yno mae gwynfyd ei byd bach – unig, 
Ac yno’i chyfeddach
Â’i Chalfin, dyma’i chilfach
A man oer emynau iach.
  Â’i hemynau mae yno – a’i chanu
Yn chwennych ddoe eto
A'n ddiwyd ei gweddïo
I nawdd Ei Oleuni O.
  Crebachu
Mae yno’n erwau Mynwy, 
Yno mae, er nad yw mwy.
 Yno bu tranc yr heniaith
A'i gwres, ond erys yn graith 
Ddaliwyd ar hap mewn mapiau...
Ein hiaith na ellir rhyddhau.
Y Gymraeg hen mewn enwau 
A’u rhith sy’n mynnu parhau
I raddau ar arwyddion
Ar yr hewl i’r Gymru hon.
  Iaith welaf, ond di-lafar
A hesb yw, aeth geiriau'n sbâr, 
Iaith na chlywaf ar dafod
Yno'n byw, ond mae hi'n bod. 
Di-glywed ond gweledig
Yno'n drwch hen enwau drig
A geiriau yn y gweryd
O'r llwch yn harddwch o hyd.
   Cyfforddus
Er mor ansad ydyw'r gwadnau - a hyll 
A thyllog y sodlau;
Er eu hoed a'u hen lledr brau 
Y rhain saif yn ffefrynnau.
 Disgwyl
Yn hogyn roedd fy neges – yn eglur, 
Yn raglen wrth-ormes,
A’m tafod rydd di-rodres
Yn ffraeth a’m dyddiau yn ffres.
 Dyddiau fu’n llawn gwleidyddiaeth – a nefoedd 
Cyfiawn wrth-wladwriaeth,
A chanu am Gymru gaeth 
Yn seiliau fy sosialaeth.
  Hyn o sylwedd roddodd seiliau, – fory 
Guevara trown innau!
Rhown faeth i’r cenedlaethau 
A mwy, gan ochel dogmâu.
  Anochel bod dyfodol – o arwain, 
Herio’r drefn geidwadol
Yn arwr egwyddorol, 
Ysblennydd lywydd di-lol.
  Rhyw lolian rhwydd oedd blwyddyn – o wyliau
At ‘Dolig tra’n blentyn;
Yma nawr a minnau’n hyn
Rhy gynnar yw tro’r gwanwyn.
  Yn gynnar daeth deugeiniau – a’i gwynion, 
Rhy gynnar i minnau
Gael mantais uchelgeisiau,
A’r haf pob blwydd yn byrhau.
  'Rol hapusrwydd tro'r flwyddyn – yn wylaidd 
Sylweddoli'n sydyn:
Rhith 'dwi, i ble'r aeth y dyn
Yr anogais tra'n hogyn.
   "Nice day, makes it go  quicker"
Er yr haul hir-ymarhous -yw heddiw,
Rhaid dioddef y cyfoes 
A hin boenydia einioes-
I rai rhy hir yw eu hoes.
  Cyllell Boced Tad-cu
Pery'n finiog er na fu hogi – llafn 
Ei gyllell hen 'leni,
Ei hiraeth ddeil i dorri
Drwy niwl y cof ynof fi.
  Erfyn
Un wennol yw'n hysgolion, 
Un rhy hwyr i'r Gymru hon. 
Amatur yw’n blaguro
Yn ein gwlad hyd erwau’r glo.
I’n hiaith hen, nid gwên ond gwg, 
Mae’r gwanwyn ym morgannwg?
 Canmlwyddiant y Capel 
I’w hyfory rhoesant fawredd – a  rhoi 
O’u gras a’u hynawsedd,
Gosod eu gwir ar dirwedd 
A hau had i gywain hedd.
 Craf a naddu heddwch – yn eu cwm, 
Creu lle cain o lân hagrwch,
Yn werddon o  harddwch
A rhoi’u credo drosto’n drwch.
 Yn gymyn rhoi’i dirlun gadeirlan – wâr  
gariad dan hugan
O fwg, rhoi gwawl eu mawlgan
Yn deml uwch tyrrau o dân.
  Rhoi tŵr i’w hiachawdwriaeth – a gosod 
Gwŷs mewn pensaerniaeth,
A neges eu Cristnogaeth
Yn llenwi’r meini â’u maeth.
  Mae yno fwy na meini – a doethwyr; 
Mae cymdeithas heini
A graen yn ei sylfeini
Yn nawdd i’n haddoli ni.
  Yn nodded i’n cymunedau – yn sad 
Fe saif drwy’r blynyddau,
Yn iasol drwy hir oesau
Meini hen yn lain mwynhau.
  Ein gwaddol yw’r hen addoldy – odiaeth, 
Treftadaeth i’w ddathlu,
Onid hardd y saif ein t ŷ
I herio ein hyfory.
 Saith 
(Cynhelir coffadwriaeth blynyddol Brwydr Llwchwr/Gwyr 1136 ar ddydd calan am hanner dydd yn Garn Goch. Bu farw 500 dros Gymru ym Mrwydr Llwchwr. Llynedd - saith ddaeth i gofio...)
 Eu hamdo oedd clô'u gorymdaith, - cofiwn 
eu cyfiawn caledwaith;
I wrando gwlatgar araith
Yn swil heddiw daeth ond saith.
  Gwibient a'u cri'n llawn gobaith - i'w hangau'n 
Llwyr ingol dros heniaith;
'N ufudd i gofio'r afiaith 
Yn syn eleni 'mond saith.
  Uffern fu'r frwydr diffaith - y miri
A'r marw bum-canwaith,
Colli'r cyfan drwy anrhaith; 
Yn siom eleni daeth saith.
  Er yr hoen ym mheirianwaith - y milwyr
pery malais artaith
Y gad a'i holl anfadwaith 
Erchyll; yn sefyll 'roedd saith.
  Mil gwron frwydrodd estroniaith - cleddau 
Yn claddu eu gobaith;
O'u gwirfodd nawr at gerfwaith
Yn ddi-syfl coffa 'roedd saith.
  Er eu rhwysg y gro oedd eu rhaith - o drwst
Y drin a'u gorchestwaith
O fynnu cartref uniaith;
Dros Gymru'n sythu 'roedd saith.
  Yn gryf nawr erys y graith - yn waddol
I naddu gwlad berffaith,
Gwaed cad yn adeiladwaith;
Yn sicr, 'mond dechrau yw'r saith.
  Nodyn gan y Bardd
Fe’m ganwyd yn Crewe, fe’m magwyd yn Nolgellau, ac wedi cyfnodau mewn prifysgolion (Pontypridd, Caerdydd, Caerwysg, ac Abertawe), rwy’n byw ers troad y ganrif yn Nhreforys, Abertawe.  Yn briod â dwy o ferched (Mirain yn ysgol Bryntawe, Abertawe, a Heledd ym Mhrifysgol Aberystwyth), rwy’n gweithio gyda’r gwasanaethau cymdeithasol ym Mhowys. 
Rwyf yn gerddor gwerin (banjo a’r mandolin ac ati) ac wedi cyhoeddi cerddoriaeth gyda grwpiau gwerin (e.e. Gwerinos, Alltud).  Yn ogystal â threfnu a chynnal digwyddiadau Cymraeg yn Abertawe, rwyf yn rhoi gwersi Cymraeg yng nghlwb y gweithwyr yn Nhreforys.  Cyhoeddais gyfrol ar archeoleg ym Meirionnydd (Meini Meirionnydd) a chyfrol ar ddiwylliant cerddoriaeth werin (Sesiwn yng Nghymru).  Rwyf yn cyhoeddi englynion yn rheolaidd drwy drydar: @Gurfal
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indiarightnow · 4 years ago
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2: 23 AM IST
ECB Newshounds Community
Northamptonshire 161 for six (Wakely 36*) beat Glamorgan 160 for 7 (Buck 4-29) by four wickets
Nathan Buck‘s productive season persisted as his 4 for 29 led Northamptonshire to a fourth-straight Vitality Blast victory with a four-wicket resolve over Glamorgan at Edgbaston.
His spell helped retain Glamorgan to 160 for 7, a total that never seemed ample, nonetheless Northamptonshire could maybe maybe not earn a vital innings to assassinate the plod and simplest received with four balls to spare due to Alex Wakely‘s unbeaten 36 from 29 balls.
Having been cruising, Northamptonshire wished 19 from the last two overs sooner than Graeme White struck Graham Wagg over level and then conceal for four – nonetheless both White and Wakely survived left out chances. Wakely then powered Marchant de Lange down the floor for four first ball of the last over.
It saved Northamptonshire in pole build apart for a quarter-closing with basically the most easy document in the competition while Glamorgan had been already staring at yet any other disappointing advertising campaign.
Given the carnage that had ensued in the earlier two suits on Edgbaston’s hybrid pitch with a hideously brief boundary in direction of the Priory and Raglan stands – the first innings of both earlier suits had yielded 386 runs in 34 overs – Buck’s figures from his four overs had been miraculous.
Nonetheless he has made noticeable enhancements in this shortened summer and, after a double-wicket maiden helped his aspect to victory on Monday, again used to be efficient with a various of deceptive substitute-u.s.a.and a improbable yorker.
Glamorgan had been in actuality neatly positioned in the at 95 for 1 in the 12th over sooner than Buck returned for his 2d over. He had Gash Selman caught at deep square sooner than taking away the guests chief probability, Andrew Balbirnie, with a pinpoint like a flash yorker.
Balbirnie made 58 in 38 balls – passing the ninth T20 half of-century of his profession in 33 deliveries – nonetheless his wicket left Glamorgan brief of firepower in the closing overs.
Buck also had Owen Morgan caught at brief-third man and Graham Wagg taken by the third, and most spectacular, of Saif Zaib’s catches.
Zaib took Wagg with one hand on the fringe of the long-on boundary, threw the ball up as he tumbled over the rope and frivolously stepped relieve into play to full the receive.
His 2d receive – to comprehend Callum Taylor off Graeme White for 2 – used to be also spectacular as he ran and dived to his left from deep midwicket.
Glamorgan failed to resolve lend a hand of the brief boundary and struck simplest 5 sixes. Selman’s 35 off 32 balls used to be pedestrian given the cases. Dan Douthwaite, who slugged two fours and two sixes in making 23 from 13 deliveries, used to be basically the most easy assorted batsman to build apart Northamptonshire underneath stress.
By disagreement, Northamptonshire struck four sixes within 21 balls of the reply. Nonetheless neither Richard Levi – who pulled de Lange to deep midwicket for 28 – nor Paul Stirling – caught at deep square two balls later for 22 – could maybe moreover assassinate the plod. And when Josh Cobb fell lbw pulling at Prem Sisodiya for simplest 14, none of Northamptonshire’s energy hitters had achieved too essential hurt.
Wakely and Ricardo Vasconcelos, with 25 in 23 balls, instructed the plod frivolously and 37 had been wished from 30 balls. Nonetheless Callum Taylor struck first ball of his spell to comprehend Vasconcelos and then took Zaib caught and bowled to assemble the stress simplest for White and Wakely to form the job.
Victory for Northamptonshire used to be a becoming tribute to David Capel, their venerable allrounder and head coach who died on Wednesday faded 57. The players wore dusky armbands in his memory.
The post Nathan Buck’s four-for makes it four from four for Northamptonshire appeared first on INDIARIGHTNOW NEWS.
September 04, 2020 at 01:13PMNathan Buck’s four-for makes it four from four for Northamptonshire https://ift.tt/2F4EUyR
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amytavern · 8 years ago
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Non Solus, 10,645 real and imitation pearls sent to me by 147 people, my own pearls, silk thread, 9″ x 7″ x 6.5″, with table 52" x 18" x 37", 2015 on-going participatory object
Non Solus is made of thousands of pearls, both real and imitation, donated by 147 people from around the US and 13 different countries. Using the internet as a way to dispense information and make a public request, I asked for donations of a single pearl from anyone, anywhere. I received contributions from near and far, from people I know and others I have never met. Many donations included multiple pearls and many were special in some way: a grandmother’s pearl necklace; a single earring, once part of a set given as a gift from a father to a daughter; poppy seed-sized antique pearls acquired when a young Spanish jeweler befriended a retired jeweler. Some pearls came with letters, others did not. Some were packaged in tiny boxes with ribbons, while others were padded in bubble wrap. 
Starting with one pearl, the sculpture grew chronologically, donation by donation as each was stitched to the next. Every pearl was photographed, observed, and recorded before it was added to the piece. Non Solus is a on-going participatory object that will never be truly completed, much like how a pearl will grow indefinitely. It is about connection, participation, and collective memory.
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Creating this piece was very special, to say the least. I never imagined it would grow into the complex work that it become, and continues to become. When I conceived the piece two years ago and put out my first call for pearls, I really thought a handful of people would respond and that the finished work would be the size of my fist. I never thought it would come to weigh 7 pounds and measure 9″ long! I also did not think I would receive the generous outpouring of care and generosity. I was given some truly unique pearls with heartfelt stories. I often found myself in tears as I opened a new package. 
Discussing it in graduate school with peers and professors allowed me to see it in different ways and to inform it or situate it within historical context (Joseph Beuys and his “social sculpture”) and various art theories, movements, and philosophies (archival art, feminism, phenomenology). Learning about these connections served to create a foundation for the work and deepened the meaning for me.
I am especially grateful to all the people who sent me pearls. I can’t begin to express in words how I feel. Thank you to each of you for being a part of this piece. 
Participants
Chris Keener, Huron, OH, Terry Taylor, Candler-NC, Lisa Norton, Shoreline, WA, Renee Zettle-Sterling, Coopersville, MI, Amy Hockett, Charlotte, NC, Bonnie Lambert, Helena, MT, Lucia Tremont, Syracuse, NY, Rebbecca Tomas, Seattle, WA, Charlene Schneider, Maineville, OH, Ellen Vontillius, Swannanoa, NC, Denise McCarthy, Houston, TX, Gill Miller, Lancaster Park, England, Shannon Cobb-Tappan, Dunedin, FL, Mark Fenn, Capel Iwan, Wales, Jowita Allen, Chevy Chase, MD, Baba Barnett, Raleigh, NC, Shava Lawson, Seattle, WA, Janna and Leah Marinelli, Traveler’s Rest, SC, Kelly Johnston, Bainbridge Island, WA. Kathy Clark, Reykjavík, Iceland, Laura Siegel, Brooklyn, NY, Jannie Rozema, Wageningen, Netherlands, Rachel Ehlers, Lake Ridge, VA, Tom McCarthy, St. Louis, MO, Anastasia Young, London, England, Jane Wells Harrison, Lenoir, NC, Janet Link, Raleigh, NC, Jenny Baughman, Roswell, GA, Lisa Juen, Utica, NY, Hilary Pfeifer, Portland, OR, Susie Luyet, Paia, HI, Sarah Powell, Oberhaching, Germany, Liz Willis, Pirton, England, Philip Sajet, Amsterdam, Netherlands, Jen Townsend, Pittsford, NY, Heather Allen, Raleigh, NY, Raissa Bump, San Francisco, CA, Michael Magno, Brooklyn, NY, Casey Shepard, Los Angeles, CA, Eileen Wallace, Athens, GA, Kathy Brughelli, Middletown, RI, Marianne Dages, Philadelphia, PA, Fritz Maierhofer, Vienna, Austria, Dan Price, Chicago, IL, Mary Quin, Decatur, GA, Claire Sommers Buck, Austin, TX, Linda Callahan, Gloversille, NY, Katie Rosenthal, San Diego, CA, David Chatt, Seattle, WA, Chris Boland, Sheffield, England, Rachel Davis, Milwaukee, WI, Kris Baker, Seattle, WA, Maria Phillips, Seattle, WA, Lori Hawke-Ramin, LaFayette, NY, Michele Tuegel, St. Petersburg, FL, Kelsey Simmen, San Francisco, CA, Erin Wheeler, Johnstown, NY, Crystalyn Brennan, Brooklyn, NY, Elisa Bongfeldt, Berkeley, CA, Stephanie Voegele, Milwaukee, WI, Adrienne Smart, Arlington, TX, Susan Owen, Vilas, NC, Elizabeth Brim, Penland, NC, Meadow Thurston (in memory of), Carolina Apolonia, Middelburg, Netherlands, Rebecca Illet, Cambridge, England, Kathleen Edwards Hayslett, Coralville, IA, Madeleine Veillet, Gaspe, Quebec, Canada, Virginia Hungate-Hawk, Seattle, WA, Tracy Scott, Atlanta, GA, Michelle Smith-Lewis, Seattle, WA, Sarah Rachel Brown, Philadelphia, PA, Jenna Warburton, Seattle, WA, Paul Casey, Seattle, WA, Lisa Macutchan Gray, Seattle, WA, Lori Talcott, Seattle, WA, Catherine Chandler, Portland, OR, Stacey Mosteller and Noreen Coveny, Endicott and Richfield Springs, NY, Holinka Escudero, Mexico City, Mexico, Jane Ponsford, Esher, England, Jan Smith, Salt Spring Island, BC, Canada, Mary Wolaniuk, Boulder, CO, Christina Carlbaum, Gnarp, Sweden, Louise Perrone, Vancouver, BC Canada, Devon Matlock, San Francisco, CA, Siri Kvalfoss, Tyssedal, Norway, Claire MacDonald, Toronto, Ontario, Canada, Emily Kidson, London, England, Michele Wyckoff Smith, London, England, Tara Locklear, Raleigh, NC, Robin Kranitzky and Kim Overstreet, Richmond, VA, Natascha Bybee, Seattle, WA, Natalia Araya, Valencia, Spain, Katja Prins, Amsterdam, Netherlands, Diego Richardson Nishikuni, London, England, Andrea Wagner, Amsterdam, Netherlands, Lylli Meredith, Seattle, WA, Elle Sharifpour, San Diego, CA, Miri Admoni, Sde Tzvi, Israel, Bonnie Levinthal, Philadelphia, PA, Lien de Clercq, Antwerp, Belgium, Melody Woodnutt, Brisbane, Queensland, Australia, Katharina Schneider, Blönduós, Iceland, Karen Vanmol, Antwerp Belgium, Yvette Dibos, San Diego, CA, Devon Clark, Palm Harbor, FL, Amy Sledge, Sheung Wan, Hong Kong, Amy Bishop, Aptos, CA, Anonymous, Long Beach, CA, Anastasia Egorova Shelyakina, Illes Balears, Spain, Cathy Woodall, Hebden Bridge, West Yorkshire, England, Caitlin Skelcey, Urbana, IL, Sam Woehrmann, San Francisco, CA, Rachel Weidinger, Oakland, CA, Hilde De Decker, Antwerp, Belgium, Kit de Sousa, Randolph, NJ, Bette Schuler, Tuscon, AZ, Melissa Lyon, Sherman, NY, Susan Bolding, Hayward, CA, Catherine Chambers, Ísafjörður, Iceland, Jonis Black-Parr, Seattle, WA, Christina Shmigel, Shanghai, China/Bakersville, NC, Nikki Couppee, Oakland, CA, Sara Erkers, Gothenburg, Sweden, Dawn Nakanhishi, Soquel, CA, Kerianne Quick, San Diego, CA, Shane Prada, Baltimore, MD, Mike Holmes, San Francisco, CA, Julia Turner, San Francisco, CA, Tescia Seufferlein, Oakland, CA, Lisa Fidler, Petaluma, CA, Sharon Tavern, Richfield Springs, NY, Elísa Mjöll Guðsteinsdóttir, Reykjavík, Iceland, Brooke Marks-Swanson, South Bend, IN, Lisa Heller, Philadelphia, PA, Kathleen Browne, Ravenna, OH, Megan McGaffigan, Vancouver, WA, Maya Kini, San Francisco, CA, Maria Porges, Oakland, CA, Chelsea Poe, Oakland, CA, Liz Oppenheim, Oakland, CA, Sara Valente, Herkimer, NY, Helga Ragnhildur Mogensen, Reykjavík, Iceland, Zoe Ani, San Francisco, CA
Images by Jamee Crusan.
Thanks for reading.
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placetobenation · 5 years ago
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Thus far, I’ve kept this intro short & sweet, focusing on getting to the results I know you care about. But for the last round, I wanted to take this space and thank the powers that be at Place to Be Nation. I’ve been listening to some of the OGs of the podcasts that eventually formed PTBN, like JT, Scott  and Chad for the better part of a decade and have heard them talk about wrestling for 100s, if not 1,000s of hours. You feel like you really get to know someone listening to them that much, even if you’ve never met. That’s not unlike sports radio show hosts, talk show hosts or DJ’s, but what was unique was the community that was built from these podcasts over the years.
Today, the work of so many people has led to an online wrestling/pop culture juggernaut featuring hot takes and shit takes and fire spit and bullshit displayed across the PTBN Wrestling, Pop Culture, the North-South Connection, Jenny Position and the website (apologies if I missed any feeds.) I’d list all the new podcasts with interesting gimmicks and great content, but I’m sure I’d forget somebody.
Through all that’s been going on the past few months, the pods, the discussion about these results or the next project (which you need to join if you haven’t already) has been a highlight in an otherwise dreary run. Maybe wrestling podcasts and online discussion won’t cure coronavirus or single-handedly lead to racial harmony, but it’s been a nice distraction from real life. Hopefully, you’ve all got a great support system of family and friends like I do, and enjoy all this free entertainment as a nice distraction. But if you need more, PTBN’s built a great community and I consider many of that group friends I’ve never met. And if you ever need a little more of a pick-me-up than typical wrestling/pop-culture buffoonery, feel free to reach out to that community or message me anytime.
OK, I’m off my soapbox and ready to reveal the 5 Greatest WWE Matches Ever, as voted on by you Place to Be Nation! I’ll add some commentary on the results afterwards.   If you missed any previous results, you can find those results here.
5. Bret Hart vs. Owen Hart 
Date: 3/20/94
Event: WrestleMania X
# of Ballots: 33
Avg. Rating: 13.93939
High: 2
Low: 49
High Voter: Andu, Rory McNamara
4. Shawn Michaels vs. Undertaker – Hell in a Cell 
Date: 10/5/97
Event: IYH: Bad Blood 1997
# of Ballots: 35
Avg. Rating: 17.22857
High: 1
Low: 75
High Voter: Logan Crosland, Calum McDougall
No. 1 Votes: 2
3. Ricky Steamboat vs. Randy Savage – WWF Intercontinental Title Match 
Date: 3/29/87
Event: WrestleMania III
# of Ballots: 35
Avg. Rating: 16.42857
High: 1
Low: 51
High Voter: Brian Scala, David Schletty, Scott Criscuolo
No. 1 Votes: 3
2. John Cena vs. CM Punk – WWE Title Match
Date: 7/17/11
Event: Money in the Bank 2011
# of Ballots: 35
Avg. Rating: 10.68571
High: 1
Low: 59
High Voter: Aaron George
No. 1 Votes: 1
1.  Bret Hart vs. Steve Austin – Submission Match 
Date: 3/23/97
Event: WrestleMania 13
# of Ballots: 36
Avg. Rating: 6.055556
High: 1
Low: 68
High Voter: Steve Riddle II, Justin Webb, ROBERT SILVA, Tyler Kelley, Ben Locke, Michael Schoen, James Derbyshire, JT Rozzero, Rory McNamara, Dennis Nunez, Trust Issues, Jacob Williams, Chad Campbell, Martin Boulevard, Jeff Quinn, Tim Capel
No. 1 Votes: 16
I found a few things interesting in the final results. Steve Austin vs. Bret Hart from WM 13 was the one and only match that appeared on all 36 ballots, which is amazing to me. It was also the only match with an average rating under 10. The winning Austin-Hart match nabbed 16 of 36 first place votes (44.44%), but no other match received more than 3 first-place votes (Savage-Steamboat from WM 3) and only 3 other matches received 2 first-place votes (Shawn Michaels vs. Undertaker- HIAC at Badd Blood, Ultimate Warrior vs. Randy Savage at WM 7 and Johnny Gargano vs. Andrade Cien Almas at NXT Takeover Philadelphia.) That leaves 11 matches receiving a single first-place vote. The oldest match to make the top 100 was Pat Patterson vs. Sgt. Slaughter in an Alley Fight on 4/21/81 and the most recent match to make the top 100 was Kofi Kingston vs. Daniel Bryan at WrestleMania 35.
Thanks for reading, participating, discussing and debating matches that made the list or just missed it. This project was a blast and the next one to determine the Greatest WCW Match Ever is off to a fantastic start.
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endlessly-cursed · 2 years ago
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A Living Dynasty, Prologue: Who Is She?
A/N: The prologue is here!! I know it’s short, but as the story goes and progressess, there will be more. I’m excited to write the era of the founders. Let me know if you want to be tagged or removed from the list!! 
Summary: Many legends plagues Henriette’s memories. After many centuries, she finally speaks up 
OCs featured: Reuben Willows ( @that-scouse-wizard​ ) Professor Capell ( @camillejeaneshphm​ ) 
OCs mentioned: Elian Goldcrest ( @potionboy3​ ) Atticus Doherty ( @hphmmatthewluther​ ) 
Word Count: 794 words 
Taglist: @hphmmatthewluther​ @camillejeaneshphm​ @gaygryffindorgal​ @that-scouse-wizard​ let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list!!! 
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3rd of May, 1897
Everyone had huddled up in History of Magic’s class, curious of the ‘pleasant surprise’ Professor Capel had for them. Primrose looked around and saw the only free seat was next to Reuben Willows. She smiled “May I?”
Reuben nodded “Of course! Do sit down. You’re Lady Gray, right?”
“I am. And you are Reuben Willows.”
She extended her hand and he shook it “It’s nice to meet you personally. I’ve heard much of you.”
“And I, of you as well. Especially of your gifted girlfriend.”
Reuben chuckled “Gifted is one word for it, yes. But I wouldn’t have her any other way.”
Primrose was to say something when Professor Capel cleared his throat and smiled. Many of the ladies, many of her friends, stared at him “Be welcome, class, today is a special day, for we will be personally studying the time of the founders. As I promised, there is a surprise: many of your ancestors lived there and were allies of each founder. Notorious members such as the Doherty family, apprentice of Rowena Ravenclaw,” Primrose tried not to blush, remembering the other night’s escapade with Mr. Doherty “your ancestor had a splendid power that banished the changelings into the class. Lady Coventry, your ancestor Mathilde was notorious as well for… well, poison and conceit.” She could almost hear Georgia chuckle “Miss Dubois, your ancestor, Brunhilda, was infamous for being a tad too close to Mathilde and committing several war crimes during the wars. And lastly, Lady Gray, your ancestor Henriette was a loyal companion of Helga and her story is a most certainly intriguing one.”
Primrose frowned “Oh? I don’t follow…”
“There are legends about her. Especially of her love life. Many said that she had an affair with the Sovereign of the Changelings and could’ve had a child with them, and that she married someone else to correct that mistake. His name was Frederick of Kent.”
She could see Reuben stiffen “That is my ancestor!” He looked at Primrose and she blushed, feeling awkward of all sudden.
“And, of course,” Professor Capel carried on “there was the Goldcrest rebellion, but now we will focus on…” Primrose looked for Elian and found him there. Their eyes connected and he shrugged. She almost forgot that his birth had been closer to her ancestors. He didn’t look or behave like he was almost six hundred years old.
As she started to take notes on what she was reading of Henriette, she wondered if she have had indeed an affair and married Frederick out of duty. She now had a purpose: uncover her true story.
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Three hours later
Primrose knew that, if Henriette had been that crucial to the founders, she’d be in the castle somewhere. Suddenly, a striking young woman with clothes of the century stared at her. She had a beautiful blonde hair, though most of it was covered by the headwear of the time and tightly brushed into a complex hairdo. She wore a yellow dress, richly decorated and had her blue eyes she often saw in the mirror.
“Henriette?” She whispered “Henriette of Wessex?”
The portrait smiled “Ah, you must be another of my descendants! Come along, sweet girl. What is your name?”
“Lady Primrose Gray of House Somerset.”
Henriette smiled sweetly “I’ve heard that you will run Winbourne on your own. Well done, my child. But you’re not here to discuss that, are you?”
“You are correct. I want to hear your story. All of it.”
Henriette sighed, still smiling “It’s been nearly a thousand years, many Somersets have come to see if the rumours about me are true. But you, my dear, want to hear all of it instead of jumping into conclusions. Very well. Take a seat, dearest, this is a long story. You will want to hear if it was true that I had an affair and a possible child and married out of duty and obligation. I never did such a thing. Never.”
“You’re saying that you loved your husband?”
“I did, by God, I did. Not at first. I do not know when it began. Before our lips touched for the first time, I knew I was his and his alone. But the way I loved Betwixt was different, and not many would understand it. But you are different. There’s something about you that I like, that will make of my legacy something worth keeping. I shall begin where it all started: when I left the first groom chosen for me when I was but fifteen by my over-ambitious father, Marcus the Spineless, and indeed, he had no spine in battle or when it came to hand over his only child to the highest bidder.”
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camillejeaneshphm · 3 years ago
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Owen Capell’s profile:
BASIC INFO
Quote by Character: “I will never be an outcast, no matter what they say.”
Full Name: Owen Simon Capell
Nicknames: none yet
Gender: Cis Man (he/him)
Sexuality: Grayromantic
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Species: Vampire
Blood Status: Muggleborn
Date of Birth: 17 May 1802
Race/Ethnicity: White British
Nationality: British
Short Bio: While on a research trip in his early twenties, Owen met a woman named Juliet. He fell for her quickly, but things turned when she bit him and turned him to a vampire. 
Personality: Has a bit of a superiority complex, very intelligent
Languages: English, German, Italian, French, Spanish
Likes: Books, travel, history
Dislikes: Cravats, tight spaces
Greatest Flaw: Pride
Greatest Strength: Intellect
Place of Residency: 
birth-11: Warwick, England
11-17: Alternates between Warwick and Hogwarts Castle
17-24: Student of History at various universities
24-retirement: Alternating between Rye, England and Hogwarts Castle
Retirement: Rye, England
Future Career: Professor of History of Magic
APPEARANCE
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Eye Color: Brown
Skin Tone: Very Pale
Height: 6 ft
Weight: 74 kg
Physique: Somewhat stocky
Style Choice (what they like to wear): Contrary to most vampires, Owen easily keeps up with popular fashion. 
Accessories: An old pocket watch, his wedding ring
Inventory: His wand, a book, vials of blood to sate himself
Scars: The bite scar on his neck, a thin slice across his stomach
Face Claim: Luke Newton
Voice Claim/description of what they sound like: Luke Newton
MAGIC
Wand Description/Picture: Sycamore, Unicorn Hair, 10 inches
[The sycamore makes a questing wand, eager for new experience and losing brilliance if engaged in mundane activities. It is a quirk of these handsome wands that they may combust if allowed to become ‘bored’, and many witches and wizards, settling down into middle age, are disconcerted to find their trusty wand bursting into flame in their hand as they ask it, one more time, to fetch their slippers. As may be deduced, the sycamore’s ideal owner is curious, vital and adventurous, and when paired with such an owner, it demonstrates a capacity to learn and adapt that earns it a rightful place among the world’s most highly-prized wand woods..]
Wand reaction when chosen: Tiny fireworks
Boggart: His wife threatening to leave him 
Riddikulus Form: She cracks a joke instead
Patronus: Bat
Patronus Memory: Him and Juliet finally making amends
Animagus: none
Amortentia (what they smell like): Something metallic, with some old books and something leathery
Amortentia (What they smell): gardenias, roses, and a hint of champagne
Mirror of Erised: Vampires finally being accepted into wizard society
Misc. Magical Abilities: Vampirism
Favorite/Created Spells: none
SCHOOL LIFE
Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw
Ilvermorny House: n/a
Organizations Joined: None
Apprenticeships: Assistant Professor at Hogwarts
Professions: Professor of History of Magic at Hogwarts 
Best Subjects: History of Magic, Divination, Herbology
Worst Subjects: Potions, Astronomy
Favorite Teachers: n/a
Least Favorite Teachers: n/a
Class Proficiencies (OWL grade, n /10 or ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆):
Astronomy: P
Charms: EE
DADA: EE
Flying: A
Herbology: O
History of Magic: O
Potions: P
Transfiguration: EE
Ancient Runes: EE
Divination: O
STATS
Power (magic): 8/10
Power (physical strength): 6/10
Intelligence: 10/10
Skill: 7/10
Teamwork: 8/10
Speed: 7/10
Defense: 3/10
RELATIONSHIPS
FAMILY:
Father: Philip Capell, a poor laborer. After Owen turned eighteen and left for his travels, he never saw his father again, and Philip died just a year later. 
Mother: Bridgette Capell, a washerwoman. She met Philip when they were both older, and Owen was their only child. She died when Owen was sixteen. 
Friends:
Closest In-Game Friends:
n/a
Closest MC friends:
None yet (open to interaction)
Love interest:
Juliet Cadogan. She met Owen while he was on a research trip to France when he was twenty-two, and they quickly fell in love. Though she turned him into a vampire, their love has never faded. 
Dorm mates:
None yet (four open spots)
Rivals:
None yet (open to interaction)
Enemies:
n/a
Pets: None
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misslisterkeepsajournal · 5 years ago
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1822 Sunday 14 July
6 35/60
11 3/4
My aunt and [I] off at 8 1/2 to Castel Dinas Bran (bran, crow, i.e. Crow Castle #) and got back at 10 10/60 - 36 minutes in ascending to the summit - A boy, the under waiter at the Inn, went with us as guide, and led us by the way thro’ the little garden of evan Parry whose son, a boy of 12 or 13, accompanied us with 2 sticks pronged with iron - my aunt used hers, but I had no need of one - the way is perfectly good and considering the steepness of the ascent, and the dryness of the ground, not at all slippery for I never slipt once even with my bright iron-heeled boots on - little steps cut which obviate whatever difficulty there might otherwise be - there was a light blue mist over the mountains which impeded our view - and, after reading Bingley’s description, and that ascending Dinas bran might be a substitute to those who had not ascended Snowdon, I was disappointed  - we could not see near to the end of the vale of Llangollen - nor distinguish anything of Vale Crucis Abbey - the hills immediately around bounded our view very narrowly - the remains are very small - Mrs ..... (not Middleton) of Chirk to whom the castle belongs, is going to build a sort of gothic cottage or summer house at the top of the hill (the shell nearly completed) the castle is to be walled round with an upper and lower wall, and the rest of the ascent planted all round - this will be a very great improvement - the waiter seemed to know something of the underground communication with the castle mentioned but disbelieved by Bingley - he (the waiter) said it was somewhere towards the north end of the castle but now filled up with stones -
In descending we gave the boy 1/. for going with us and taking the sticks and went into his father’s cottage - very neat - his wife and youngest daughter there very neat looking healthy people -  a very nice old man - a slater by trade and slated “that grand house” the King’s head - He had been reading the “English physician” an old physic book - we asked him to read us a little of the 1st chapter of Saint John in Welsh - he did and I tried to read after with tolerable success - the pronunciation is very guttural, but I think I could get the language in a few months so as to make myself pretty well understood -
Had breakfast as soon as we got back - Excellent bread and butter hot home-made rolls, etc and good coffee - At 11 3/4 my aunt and I, accompanied by Boots to introduce us, walked to Plâsnewydd - the gardener in waiting - we talked to him a good deal - he seemed a good sort of intelligent man much attached to his mistresses after having lived with them 30 years - he had walked about the country with them many miles when they were young - they were above 20 when they 1st came there - and had now been there 43 years - they kept no horses but milked 6 cows - said I, “can they use the milk of 6 cows?” “Oh! they never mind the milk - it is the cream” - he said Lady Eleanor Butler was a good deal better - He remembered Mr Banks - he had been there 4 or 5 times - I told him I had longed to see the place for the last dozen years, and we expressed our great admiration of the place - In Saint Gothens (for I know not how else to spell it and which we most particularly admired) was a little book case of 30 or 40 little volumes chiefly poetry Spenser, Chaucer, Pope, Cowper, Homer, Pope’s, Shakespeare etc - I quite agree with M- (vide her letter) the place “is a beautiful little bijou”, shewing excellent taste - much to the credit of the ladies who have done it entirely themselves. The gardener said “they were always reading” - the dairy is very pretty close to the house and particularly the pump gothic iron-work from Shrewsbury (Colebrookdale perhaps originally) - the well 7 yards deep - It is an interesting place - my expectations were more than realized and it excited in me, from a variety of circumstances, a sort of peculiar interest tinged with melancholy - I could have mused for hours and dreampt dreams of happiness, and conjured up many a vision of anxious hope -
In our return we strolled thro’ the churchyard - I shall copy the epitaph to Lady Eleanor Butler’s and Miss Ponsonby’s favourite old servant, Mrs Mary Clark, who died in 1809, when we go back + - just peeped into the church. Stood in the porch - the sermon not concluded - for the benefit of the distressed Irish -
Got back to the Inn at 1 1/4, and off to Corwen at 1 3/4 and got here (Corwen) in exactly 1 40/60 hour at 3 25/60 - (dated at Cernioge 8 1/2 p.m.) Very fine drive (10 miles vide Carey page 235) from Llangollen to Corwen, the Dee within a short distance on our right all the way - the banks shaded by rather large trees - perhaps chiefly alders - the valley narrow the hills on each side bold and beautiful and picturesque - the road like a bowling green - one of the best I ever travelled - government have lately taken this road (the whole way from London to Holyhead) into their own hands, and, tho’ the tolls are much heavier in consequence, yet vast improvements have been made in the road, and are now going on in different parts of the line of it - Corwen is a small limestone-built postal town, like a neat village, a small church on a rising ground on the left just after one entrance of the town - Stopt 1 10/60 hour at the Inn to bait the horses - the Owen Glendwr, apparently a very comfortable Inn - a good place to sleep at, if one was not anxious to get on farther -
Left Corwen at 4 35/60 and got here (Cernioge Mawr) in 3 hours at 7 35/60 - the road very pretty for about 6 miles to Lundyforth (according to the pronunciation) ((Pont y Glyn or Pont Dyn Duffws) vide Nicholson’s Guide page 353.) bridge, prominently situated over the Dee which foamed in a tolerably broad but shallow stream over its broken rocky bed below - we stopt and got out of the gig for a minute to view it - the road (to the right of it) cut thro’ the rock to a considerable depth - from here, however, the beauty of the road begins to decline, and the last 3 miles from Cerig y Druidion (Cherrig (ch pronounced like ch in church) y Druidyon) plain and dreary - the land poor and peaty, the hills quite bare - a little before Cerig y Druidion, we observed a conical hill, having the appearances of 2 mounds or terraces as at Dinas bran, and which we took for the citadel of Caractacus mentioned by Cary - there seemed something like an old stone work remain on the side towards Cerig y Druidion - the last 2 or 3 miles of the road almost in a straight line before us, and Cernioge Mawr tho’ a very neat looking whitewashed house, stands by itself in the midst of hills so bare of people and trees, my aunt and I agreed we should not like to stay here longer than necessary - there is a turnpike bar very near - the gate (there are two such between Llangollen and Corwen) such as I had never seen before, struck us exceedingly - 
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ten iron radii, about 1 inch broad and 1/4 inch thick, spring at equal distances from the circumference of the 2 little quadrants o circles placed in the corners at the foot and top of the hanging side -  a very slight iron post is fastened to the stone-posts - and upon the top of this single iron post, finished off to admit it, the gates are hung by a 
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swinging on the top of these posts -
Sat down to dinner here about 8, Kenioge Mawr Inn as the man of the Inn spells it - Trout, mutton chops, and gooseberry tart and cream - very good - Settled everything and paid - the bill etc and came up to bed at 9 1/2 to be in readiness in the morning to start at 7 for Capel Curig - wrote the last 9 lines of today - after having curled my hair - feel so very heavy and sleepy, I can write no more - I wonder what success I shall have about Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Ponsonby. Mrs Davies thought they would be pleased with my note - but I cannot write more now - than that we have had delightful weather today, and have travelled on most comfortably - I am more than 1/2 asleep and must make the best of my way to bed - ‘Tis now 11 1/2 - E... [regarding her venereal condition: 3 treatments] a good deal of discharge - I have heard the win whistle here 2 or 3 times - what a dreary place it must be in winter! -
# Tuesday 20 August 1822, improperly called Crow castle -
+ omitted copying the epitaph as I intended - sorry -
Reference: SH:7/ML/E/6/0025 - SH:7/ML/E/6/0026
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drudwen · 6 years ago
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Morfudd Llwyn Owen - E. Lois
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Morfydd Llwyn Owen
(1891-1918)
Ganwyd Morfydd Llwyn Owen ar y 1af o Hydref 1891, yn Nhrefforest yn Sir Forgannwg. Roedd ei rhieni yn gerddorion, ac roeddent hefyd yn rhedeg busnes clustogwaith.
Erbyn iddi droi’n 16, roedd hi’n cael gwersi preifat gan Yr Athro David Evans ym Mhrifysgol Caerdydd. Yn 1909, pan oedd yn 19, cyhoeddodd ei darn cyntaf o gerddoriaeth: emyn dôn o’r enw ‘Morfydd’. Dechreuodd fynychu Prifysgol Caerdydd, ac ennillodd ysgoloriaeth gerddorol ‘Caradog’ yn ystod ei hamser yno. Graddiodd mewn cerddoriaeth yn 1912.
Wedi iddi raddio, cafodd ei derbyn i Orsedd y Beirdd yn Eisteddfod Wrecsam, ac derbyniodd ysgoloriaeth i fynychu’r Academi Frenhinol yn Llundain.
O dan ofal Frederick Corder yn yr Academi Frenhinol, cyfansoddodd ystod eang o gerddoriaeth newydd a oedd yn denu sylw mawr iddi a’i cherddoriaeth. Cafodd lawer o glod yng ngolofnau papurau newydd Llundain.
Yn ystod ei chyfnod yn yr Academi Frenhinol, ennillodd lawer o wobrau ac ysgoloriaethau, gan gynnwys Gwobr Blue-Riband, Gwobr Oliveria Prescott, a Medal Arian Charles Lucas am gyfansoddi.
Yn ystod ei chyfnod yn Llundain, cyfarfu â sawl unigolyn o Rwsia, a chafodd ei hysbrydoli cymaint gan gerddoriaeth Rwsia fel y penderfynodd ymgeisio am fwrsari i astudio yno. Ennillodd hi’r bwrsari, ond cafodd ei hatal rhag mynd yno gan y Rhyfel Byd Cyntaf.
Wedi iddi raddio, cafodd ei phenodi’n aelod o staff yn yr Academi Frenhinol.
Yn ystod ei hamser yn Llundain, mynychodd Gapel Bresbyteraidd Cymraeg Llundain yn Charing Cross. Cyfarfu â sawl ffigwr Cymreig adnabyddus o’r cyfnod trwy’r capel, gan gynnwys David Lloyd George, Sir John Herbert Lewis, a Ruth Herbert Lewis.
Treuliodd Morfudd lawer o amser yng nghwmni’r teulu Lewis. Byddai’n aros yn eu tỳ hwy, ac yn eu diddanu trwy ganu.
Trwy weithio â Ruth Herbert Lewis, daeth Morfydd yn rhan o waith y Welsh Folk-Song Society. Trawsgrifio, yn ogystal â chyfansoddi cyfeiliant i sawl Gân Werin Gymraeg. Pan fyddai Ruth Herbert Lewis yn darlithio am Ganeuon Gwerin Cymru, byddai Morfudd yn chwarae esiamplau cerddorol o’r darnau. Yn 1914, cydweithion nhw ar gyhoeddi ‘Folk-Songs Collected In Flintshire and The Vale of Clwyd.’
Yn ystod ei chyfnod yn Llundain, treuliodd amser â D. H. Lawrence ac Ezra Pound. Cafodd ei hysbrydoli’n fawr yn Llundain – cyfansoddodd lawer o gerddoriaeth.
Tua diwedd 1916, cyfarfu Morfydd â’r seicdreiddiwr Ernest Jones, ac wedi carwriaeth fer, priodon nhw ar y 6ed o Chwefror 1917, yn Swyddfa Gorfrestru Marylebone. Daeth hyn yn sioc mawr i deulu a ffrindiau Morfudd. Roedd Ernest Jones yn ffigwr dadleuol ar y pryd, gan ei fod yn brif esboniwr o syniadau Sigmund Freud ym Mhrydain.
Yn haf 1918, pan oedd y cwpl ar wyliau ger Abertawe, yn nhỳ tad Jones, datblygodd Morfydd atodiadwst acíwt. Gan fod angen triniaeth frys arni, daeth llawfeddyg leol i roi triniaeth iddi yn y cartref teuluol.
Wedi’r driniaeth, cwympodd Morfudd yn ddifrifol wael, a bu farw ar y 7fed o Fedi 1918.
Claddwyd Morfydd ym mynwent Ystum Llwynarth, ger Abertawe. Ar ei bedd mae’r geiriau o Faust gan Goethe ‘Das Unbeschreibliche, hier ist's getan’, neu ‘Yr hyn annhraethol, yma’n gyflawn.’ 
Mae’r erthygl hon yn ddyledus iawn i waith Ben Gwalchmai.
https://www.walesonline.co.uk/lifestyle/nostalgia/if-significance-were-fully-realised-12597069
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morfydd_Llwyn_Owen
E. Lois yw arlunydd Rhithganfyddiad, Crysau T Golau Arall, ac arlunydd a churadur Prosiect Drudwen. 
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leominster1941 · 6 years ago
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1869 article in the Spectator. Leominster at War and much more.
Gryffyth, the Welsh Prince, and iElfgar, or Algar, the insurgent
http://archive.spectator.co.uk/article/10th-july-1869/12/gryffyth-the-welsh-prince-and-ielfgar-or-algar-the
Saxon earl, in their raid into Herefordshire, of which we have already spoken, took and fortified Leominster ; but abandoned it on the approach of Earl Harold, who is said to have strengthened the defences and placed a garrison in it. According to the tradi- tion of the place, a castle or palace was here built by Merwald, on a hill half a mile from the town, afterwards called Comfort Castle (perhaps the mount to the eastward overlooking Hay Lane), where, in the time of Leland (Henry VIII.), there were some remains of ditches, Scc., and whither the people of Leominster came once a year to "sport and play." At the time of the formation of Domesday Survey, at any rate, Leominster was a place of con- siderable importance.
The manor, we learn from this document, had been assigned by the Confessor to his Queen, Editha, and it was governed by eight prsepositi, eight bedelli, and eight radchenistri or free tenants, and contained 238 villani, 74 bordarii, and 82 male and female slaves. The manor then belonged to the King, and great part of the customary rent was paid as composition for salt fish and eels. Here was also a wood, six miles in length and three broad ; but it had begun to be disforested, and cleared for tillage. In the reign of William Rufus the fortifications of the town were strengthened and enlarged to resist the incursions of the Welsh.
Henry I. in 1125 gave the manor, with all its appurtenances, then valued at £666 19s. 8d. annually, to the abbey which he had founded at Reading, and cottsequently the religious house, the Priory at Leominster, became a cell of Benedictines subordinate to Reading. From a record of the time of Henry IV., it seems that this cell had then no less than thirty-one servants, and at the Dissolution of the Monasteries "its revenues were greater than those of any cell in the kingdom."
The remains of the Priory now form part of the union workhouse. From the time of the grant to Reading Abbey, the town of Leominster was governed by an upper and under bailiff, appointed by the abbots, or by the priors of Leominster, and these officers were assisted by a common council of the principal burgesses. Henry II. granted the town its first annual fair in 1170. In the reign of John, William de Braose, lord of Breck- mock, who had several times been sheriff of the county, and was possessed of many of the border castles, being in arms against the King, seized Weobley Castle, and then marched against Leominster, which at first resisted, but in a few weeks had to surrender.
De Braose is said to have plundered and burnt the town, and the priory and church, and ill-treated the inhabitants ; previous to this time, it is said that the buildings of the town were situated more on the western bank of the Lugg than they are at present. De Braose had afterwards to fly abroad, and his wife and eldest son were starved to death by the King in Windsor Castle. Edward I. granted the town of Leominster two additional fairs, and from the 23rd of his reign it returned two representatives to the Home of Commons, till its recent semi- disfranchisement. The Earl of March was confined by Owen Glen- dower at Leominster, in a dungeon, according to tradition, at the top of Church Street ; he also is accused of plundering the church and levying a heavy contribution on the monks. After the battle of Shrewsbury, the town and its neighbourhood became the scene of some remarkable military manoeuvres between Glendower and Prince Harry of Monmouth. Glendower abandoned Leominster, and entrenched his army on a hill, about two miles to the south. Prince Henry, after reconnoitring this position, took up a post of observation on a neighbouring eminence, waiting till want of pro- visions should compel his able adversary to descend from his stronghold. Glendower at last, after feeling the strength of the enemy by skirmishing parties, finding the Prince too strong for him, endeavoured to withdraw without a general engagement ; but the future hero of Agincourt had divined his purpose, and pressing upon him in close pursuit, caused a panic among the Welsh, who broke up and dispersed in every direction. The garrison of Leominster formed part of the forces of Jasper, Earl of Pembroke, when he was defeated by the Earl of March, in the Wars of the Roses. On the Dissolution of the Monasteries, the manor of Lsominster was resumed by the Crown. "The town," writes Leland, in that reign, "is meetly large, and hath good buildings of timber.
The town, by reason of their principal wool, use great cirapings of cloth, and thereby it flourished. Since, of later years, it chanced that the cities of Hereford and Worcester complained of the frequency of people that came to Lemster, in prejudice of both their markets in the shire town, and also in hindering their draping ; whereupon the Saturday market was removed from Lemster, and a market on Friday was hereby assigned to it ; since that time the town of Lemster hath decayed." The wool of the district "enjoyed great repute in the sixteenth century," and is celebrated by the poet Drayton. On the death of Edward VI., about 13,000 men assembled near the town in the interest of Queen Jane and Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, and though their numbers diminished with the increasing strength of Queen Mary's party, those who remained entrenched themselves on an eminence about a mile west of the town. Here they were attacked by the inhabitants, assisted by a force from Hereford under Philip Hobby, Richard Wallwayn, and Francis Throckmorton, and completely defeated and dispersed. Queen Mary, in reward for this service, besides promoting the leaders, granted the borough its first regular charter of incorpora- tion (1554), with other valuable and extensive privileges. In the reign of James I., the manor of Leominster was granted to his favourite, George Villiers, 1st Duke of Buckingham of that family, on a yearly rent of £,305 us. 5d. towards (it is presumed) the jointure of the Queen, Anne of Denmark, in whom Leominster had been vested. During the civil wars of Charles I. we find the town noticed as "a very malignant [Royalist] place, but of great con- sequence, and very rich." In April, 1643, it was taken by Six- William Waller for the Parliament, the inhabitants disarmed, and a garrison placed there.
A battery of cannon was also erected near the church to overawe the inhabitants. The manor passed into the possession of Harry Marten, the celebrated member of the Long Parliament ; but, on the Restoration, came back to the second Duke of Buckingham. He, it is well known, ran through all his property, and the manor and borough of Leominster passed to Major Wildman (celebrated in the time of CromwelPs Protecto- rate), to whom the Duke owed £14,000. -The Major sold them in 1672 to Lord Coningsby, Chief Justice of Ireland, and from him they passed, through an heiress, to the Capels, Earls of Essex. _Mr. Colt, M.P. for the borough in the reign of Charles II., incurred in 1678 a fine of 1100,000, and was im- prisoned till the arrival of William III. for his advocacy of "the Protestant succession," but was twice elected for the borough during his confinement. A new charter of incorporation was granted in the reign of Charles II. The spacious church of Leominster, which has been recently restored by Scott, con- tains portions of every style of architecture, "and is united on the
side to a more ancient church of plain yet good Norman. Thechurch is of great breadth, nearly equal to its length."
Leominster was " formerly one of the principal seats of the glove manufacture, but latterly the business has been on the decline.. Hatsare now made and coarse woollens, but the latter only to a small extent. Tanning is extensively carried on, but the present. reliance of the town is on its retail trade with the adjacent coun- try. Coal is brought from Shropshire partly by canal, partly by railway, from the Clce hills." The land of the borough and out- skirts is chiefly in the hands of the residents, some of it in very small portions. A free grammar-school, founded and endowed by Queen Mary, is said to have become in modern times a mere- private school, except that the corporation pays the master an annual -stipend of 120. The population of Leominster was, in 1861, 5,658, a considerable increase from that of 1851, which was 5,214 ; and the town is growing also in its assessed wealth.
Among the celebrated natives of Monmouthshire we ought, perhaps, to mention the chronicler Jeffery, or Geoffrey-ap-Arthur, better known as Geoffrey of Monmouth, if, as is supposed, that town was his birthplace. He lived in the reigns of Henry I., Stephen, and Henry II.; was Archdeacon of Monmouth, then. Bishop of St. Asaph (in 1152) ; and, being obliged to abandon his- see in consequence of the Welsh troubles, was appointed by Henry II. Abbot of Abingdon, in which monastery he died. What amount of real facts lies at the bottom of his romantic history of Britain it is not easy to say ; his chief value is as an antiquarian topographer. Enough of the buildings of the old Roman Britain seem to have remained down to his time to inflame- his vivid Celtic imagination ; and on these and his classical reminiscences he built up a wild and incredible narrative of the glories of the age of King Arthur and the mystic princes. who preceded him in the so-called imperial throne of Britain, to which the poets of the middle ages are under far greater- obligations than the historical students of the present day. The other name connected with Monmouth is King Henry V. Walter Cantilupe, Bishop of Worcester in the reign of Henry III., deserves notice as a member of a Monmouthshire family for his patriotic boldness in encouraging the Barons in their resist- ance to the misgovernment of King Henry, incurring sentence of excommunication from the Pope for promising them a heavenly reward for their devotion to the cause of liberty. Perhaps- Monmouthshire may also boast of being the birthplace of Richard de Clare, the celebrated Earl Stronybow, the conqueror of Ireland ; it certainly contained the castle which was then the seat of his
family. William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke in the reign of Henry VI., and his brother, Sir Richard Herbert, both distin- guished soldiers of the old paladin class, were natives of this county. Henry Plantagenet, first Duke of Lancaster, surnamed Wryneek, and known as the good Duke of Lancaster, was born in Monmouth Castle. He was father-in-law to John of Gaunt. But the most remarkable native of Monmouthshire was Sir John Old- castle, Baron of Cobham, the scholar friend of Henry of Monmouth, whom Henry gave up to the vengeance of the Romish Church. He was born at Old Castle, in this county. As an early companion of Prince Henry he is involved with him in the stories of youthful debauchery to which we are indebted for Shakespeare's Prince Hal and Sir John Falstaff, but in all probability the charge is as unfounded in the one case as in the other. The Lollardism or Puritanism of Sir John Oldcastle in the latter part of his life, with which his name is associated in the modern mind, makes his identification with the Falstaff of our dramatic reading a curiously puzzling phenomenon.
Passing over the doubtful claim to Cardinal Adam de Easton, in the latter part of the fourteenth century, the following names may be assigned to Herefordshire as the place of their birth :- Adam de Orleton, Bishop of Hereford, Worcester, and Winchester, who was born at Hereford, labours under the imputation of having incited the murder of Edward II. by the Delphic line, " Eduardum Regem occidere nolite tinaere bonum eat," which gives opposite advice according to the different pointing. Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, Queen Elizabeth's favourite, was born in Nether- wood, in this county, November 10, 1567, as was also Roger Mortimer, Earl of March. Richard Hackluyt, the collector and publisher of accounts of voyages of discovery in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, was a Herefordshire man. So was John Gwillim, the celebrated author of the Display of Heraldry in the reigns of Elizabeth and James I., who was born at Hereford. So were Eleanor Gwynne (" Nell Gwynne "), in a humble dwelling in Pipe Lane, and David Garrick the actor, at the Angel Inn in Widemarsh Street. Robert Harley, Earl of Oxford, the celebrated minister of Queen Anne, though born in London, was one of a leading Herefordshire family. His father, Colonel, afterwards Sir Everard Harley, and his grandfather, Sir Robert Harley, were conspicuous members of the Presbyterian party in the Long Parlia- ment, and the leaders of the Parliamentarians in this county. John Kyrie, the benevolent "Man of Ross," immortalized by Pope, who died in 1724, aged 81, though born at Whitehouse, in Dymock parish, Gloucestershire, was not only connected with Herefordshire by residence, but by extraction, the Kyrles belonging properly to that county.
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yahoo-the-dagger-blog · 7 years ago
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It's been a long time since Duke and UNC lost at home on the same day
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Virginia’s Kyle Guy (5) leads his team off the court following a 65-63 victory over Duke in an NCAA college basketball game against Duke in Durham, N.C., Saturday, Jan. 27, 2018. (AP Photo/Ben McKeown)
Tobacco Road’s top half did not have a nice little Saturday.
Both Duke and North Carolina suffered losses at home, marking the first time since 1973 that both blue bloods lost on their own courts on the same day. It took a lot for the 44-year streak to come to an end, too, as second-ranked Virginia took a big 65-63 win over fourth-ranked Duke and North Carolina State had a great shooting day in a 95-91 overtime win over 10th-ranked North Carolina.
[Stream the NFL Pro Bowl live on the Yahoo Sports mobile app]
To put the run in perspective, the head coach at Duke in 1973 was Neill McGeachy, who went 10-16 in his only season in Durham. Current coach Mike Krzyzewski was still seven years away from being hired while current associate head coach Jeff Capel was still two years from being born.
Current North Carolina coach Roy Williams, meanwhile, was 23 and in his first season of coaching Charles D. Owen High School in Black Mountain, N.C after graduating from Chapel Hill.
The last time Duke and UNC lost at home on the same day, Roy Williams was a high school basketball and golf coach and Mike Krzyzewski was literally in the Army.
— Brian Hamilton (@_Brian_Hamilton) January 27, 2018
Since neither school loses at home very often, it should come as no surprise that both opponents don’t win in Durham or Chapel Hill very often. Virginia’s win in Durham was their first since 1995 while North Carolina State only has four wins in the Dean Dome since 2001.
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jessicamurtagh · 7 years ago
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Girlhood #2
About the show: The Fort Collective presents… ‘Girlhood #2’Bringing together the work of over forty artists, mostly based in Melbourne, Girlhood #2 aims to showcase a broad range of creative interpretations and reflections on gender. From the minds of artists who, themselves, are women or nonbinary folk, what does it mean to have experienced a girlhood in some way? Or to have had one thrust upon you? Our experiences with gender, and how we are treated because of it, have to some extent helped form who we are. Each of these artists gives us a glimpse into their internal landscape, and by extension, pieces of the collective journey of girlhood, of womanhood, or something in between. Dealing with misinformation and underrepresentation on a daily basis, living in a sexualised and undereducated society. The artists of ‘Girlhood’ are asked to explore these themes within their work, and are free to show anything that speaks ‘girlhood’ to them, or that says something about themselves, as women, as people familiar with the experience of girlhood. When: 20th of November 6.30 pm Where: 164 Gore Street, Melbourne, Australia 3065 What: 'Girlhood 2' an art exhibition. STRICTLY NO BYO 18 + event Visual artists: Katie Gray/Alice Chalmers/Gemma Flack/ Edwina Stawski/Ray Pulman/Olga Tsara/Jazz Milburn/Bryanna Pearl Taylor/ Claire Maud/ Joanna Beck/Lara Chamas/Mouse/Naomi Reiber/Erica Wrigley/Gina Bo Bina/Sophie Collier/ Natasha Hansen/ Chloe Hagger/Tanya Bickers/Simsala Grimm/Katie Bishop/Tammy Scott/Alice Shiny/Chiara Ze/ Crystal Knight/Wishcandy/Stephanie Sultana/Ziggy Firth/Yasemin Sabuncu/ Nina Cheles/ Tiffany Willenberg/Stephanie Rooney/ Hannah Lily Campbell/ Emily Beasy/Sage Fury/Natalia Bennett/Georgina Savage/Kat Karamitros/Jessica Murtagh/Yaren Ilayda Ceylan /Jenny Huang/Megan Jean/Julie Milton/Sharyn Del Giudice/Marisa Matear/Samara Joy Owens /Lucy Hodgson/ Katerina Capel/Alana Maree Wilkie/Heidi Ann/Lowana leereveld/Thao Bee Nguyen/Jessie Adams/Baby Voodoo/Saeromi Park/Maite Pons/Coco Sims/Alison George/Jodie Fraser/Kater Horvath May/Elloise Mae Foster/Tessa Rose/Tamar Dolev/Danielle Walker/Emma Bovill/Lucy Hodgson/Catherine Dyhin/Kalindy Williams/Priscila Madalena Santos
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ulyssesredux · 8 years ago
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Cyclops
The French! Says Alf. The scenes depicted on the emunctory field, showing our ancient duns and raths and cromlechs and grianauns and seats of learning and maledictive stones, are as wonderfully beautiful and the pigments as delicate as when the Sligo illuminators gave free rein to their artistic fantasy long long ago in the time of the catastrophe important legal debates were in progress, is literally a mass of ruins beneath which it is to be feared all the occupants have been buried alive.
—When is long John going to hang that fellow in Mountjoy? And I belong to a race too, says Bloom.
And he shouting to the bloody dog: After him, Garry! Mr and Mrs Wyse Conifer Neaulan will spend a quiet honeymoon in the Black Forest. Force, hatred, history, all that. Do you know what I'm telling you?
What black magician conjures up this fiend, to stop devoted charitable deeds?
Mr Cowe Conacre: Has the right honourable gentleman's famous Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury bench? —Lo, Joe, says I, in his gloryhole, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face.
Says he, preaching and picking your pocket. Says Joe. —Ho, varlet!
That so? Ay, says Ned. Bardolph. I in my dangerous affairs of hostile arms!
—He's a bloody dark horse himself, says little Alf.
Says I. I got in his service. I in my dangerous affairs of hostile arms! Ay, they drove out the peasants in hordes. Where is he till I murder him?
I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me!
Your shoes is not so good to come to him, his Grace not being warn'd thereof before: my lord, come from the heart: never came any from mine that might offend your majesty. Cursed the blood that let this blood from cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells: Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, provokes this deluge most unnatural.
Do, then; but I'll not trust thee. Says Joe, doing the toff about one story was good till you heard another and blinking facts and the Nelson policy, putting your blind eye to the telescope and drawing up a bill of attainder to impeach a nation, and Bloom trying to back him up moderation and botheration and their colonies and their civilisation. She'd have won the money only for the other, I appreciate to the full the motives which actuate your conduct and I shall discharge the office you entrust to me consoled by the reflection that, though the truth of a libel is no defence to an indictment for publishing it in the sea after and electrocute and crucify him to make sure of their job. Says he, putting up his fist, sold by auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle.
And by that way wend the herds innumerable of bellwethers and flushed ewes and shearling rams and lambs and stubble geese and medium steers and roaring mares and polled calves and longwoods and storesheep and Cuffe's prime springers and culls and sowpigs and baconhogs and the various different varieties of highly distinguished swine and Angus heifers and polly bulllocks of immaculate pedigree together with prime premiated milchcows and beeves: and there is ever heard a trampling, cackling, roaring, lowing, bleating, bellowing, rumbling, grunting, champing, chewing, of sheep and pigs and heavyhooved kine from pasturelands of Lusk and Rush and Carrickmines and from the streamy vales of Thomond, from the rising of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they durst not look upon Him.
From his girdle hung a row of seastones which jangled at every movement of his portentous frame and on these were graven with rude yet striking art the tribal images of many Irish heroes and heroines of antiquity, Cuchulin, Conn of hundred battles, Niall of nine hostages, Brian of Kincora, the ardri Malachi, Art MacMurragh, Shane O'Neill, Father John Murphy, Owen Roe, Patrick Sarsfield, Red Hugh O'Donnell, Red Jim MacDermott, Soggarth Eoghan O'Growney, Michael Dwyer, Francy Higgins, Henry Joy M'Cracken, Goliath, Horace Wheatley, Thomas Conneff, Peg Woffington, the Village Blacksmith, Captain Moonlight, Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S Fursa, S Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T and C Martin, 77, 78, 79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the Duke of Cornwall's light infantry under the general supervision of H R H, rear admiral, the right honourable gentleman's famous Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury bench? Give me your answer; i' faith do: and so clap hands and a bargain. Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part. Sure, he's out in John of God's off his head, poor man. Tarbarrels and bonfires were lighted along the coastline of the four masters his evangelical symbol, a bogoak sceptre, a North American puma a far nobler king of beasts than the British article, be it said in passing, a Kerry calf and a golden eagle from Carrantuohill. —Health, Joe, says I, in his nakedness he appears but a man, as I hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of you this favour.
To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.
If ever he have child, abortive be it, Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, look you strongly arm to meet him.
—But what about the fighting navy, says the citizen. Phenomenon! Terence and S Edward and S Owen Caniculus and S Anonymous and S Eponymous and S Pseudonymous and S Homonymous and S Paronymous and S Synonymous and S Laurence O'Toole and S James the Less and S Phocas of Sinope and S Julian Hospitator and S Felix de Cantalice and S Simon Stylites and S Stephen Protomartyr and S John Berchmans and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S Bride and S Kieran and S Canice of Kilkenny and S Jarlath of Tuam and S Finbarr and S Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S Martha of Bethany and S Mary of Egypt and S Lucy and S Brigid and S Attracta and S Dympna and S Ita and S Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S Barbara and S Scholastica and S Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. —Who won, Mr Lenehan?
You look like a fellow that had lost a bob and found a tanner. Shall we shog?
Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours! In her consists my happiness and thine; without her, follows to myself, and thee, herself, the land of song a high double F recalling those piercingly lovely notes with which the writer who conceals his identity under the graceful pseudonym of the Little Sweet Branch has familiarised the bookloving world but rather as a contributor D O C points out in an interesting communication published by an evening contemporary of the harsher and more personal note which is found in the satirical effusions of the famous Raftery and of Donal MacConsidine to say nothing of a more modern lyrist at present very much in the public eye. To-morrow is a busy day. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune! —I heard So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says Alf.
—I saw him just now in Capel street with Paddy Dignam.
So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of that and throw him in the sea after and electrocute and crucify him to make sure of their job. Take that in your right hand and repeat after me the following words. Gob, if he got that lottery ticket on the side of his poll he'd remember the gold cup, he would so, but begob the citizen claps his paw on his knee and he says: Foreign wars is the cause of all our misfortunes. Come, lords; will you go with me; under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper, to hear the lamentations of poor Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son, Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these holes; cursed the heart that had the heart to do it. They will steal any thing and call it purchase. Why do you look on us, and he is a friend of the defunct, who had been responsible for the carrying out of the pop.
So he went over to the government to fight the Boers.
A dishonoured wife, says the citizen,—Beg your pardon, says he. What new alarum is this same? —Only one, says Ned. —What's up with you, as you hope to have redemption by Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins, that you have seen the well-appointed king at Hampton pier Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet with silken streamers the young Phœbus fanning: play with your fancies, and in Jacky Tar, the son of a gun.
The sun is high, and we rejoice in them? The housesteward of the amalgamated cats' and dogs' home was in attendance to convey these vessels when replenished to that beneficent institution.
Your majesty came not like yourself: you appeared to me but as a common man; witness the night, your garments, your lowliness; and what you do, do it unfeignedly. Look at him, says he, I'll have him summonsed up before the court, so I will, for trading without a licence ow!
He answered with a main cry: Abba!
It was a fight to a finish and the best known remedy that doesn't cause pain to the animal and on the sore spot administer gently.
The viceregal houseparty which included many wellknown ladies was chaperoned by Their Excellencies to the most favourable positions on the grandstand while the picturesque foreign delegation known as the Friends of the Emerald Isle was accommodated on a tribune directly opposite. To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. Who's hindering you? Takes the biscuit, and talking about the Irish language? Says Joe. The eyes in which a tear and a smile strove ever for the mastery were of the dimensions of a goodsized cauliflower. Gob, that puts the bloody kybosh on it if old sloppy eyes is mucking up the show.
—I know where he's gone, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion. In the dark land they bide, the vengeful knights of the razor.
Up, princes! A fresh torrent of tears burst from their lachrymal ducts and the vast concourse of people, touched to the inmost core, broke into heartrending sobs, not the least affected being the aged prebendary himself.
Tish ill done: the work ish ill done; it ish give over, the trumpet sound the retreat.
And says Lenehan that knows a bit of the wampum in her will and not eating meat of a Friday because the old one with the winkers on her, no less for bounty bound to us Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. Look at this, says he. Saw his heroical seed, and smil'd to see him, as it proceeded down the river, escorted by a flotilla of barges, the flags of the Ballast office and Custom House were dipped in salute as were also those of the electrical power station at the Pigeonhouse and the Poolbeg Light.
Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.
We know that in the field, that England shall couch down in fear and yield.
My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow.
Withal, say that the queen hath heartily consented he should espouse Elizabeth her daughter. I cannot nor I will not be seen to-day! —O, Christ M'Keown, says Joe, sticking his thumb in his pocket: It's the Russians wish to tyrannise.
Be copy now to men of mould! Les doigts? The viceregal houseparty which included many wellknown ladies was chaperoned by Their Excellencies to the most favourable positions on the grandstand while the picturesque foreign delegation known as the Friends of the Emerald Isle was accommodated on a tribune directly opposite. Says the citizen.
A most interesting discussion took place in the ancient hall of Brian O'ciarnain's in Sraid na Bretaine Bheag, under the auspices of Sluagh na h-Eireann, on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters. My lord!
Cried the second of the realm, had met them in the tholsel, and there, sure enough, was the citizen up in the City Arms. —Charity to the neighbour, says Martin.
O S F; the rev W Hurley, C C; the rev John Lavery, V F; the very rev Timothy canon Gorman, P P; the very rev Fr Nicholas, O S A; the rev J Flanagan, C C The laity included P Fay, T Quirke, etc, etc.
U p: up.
Bid him therefore consider of his ransom; which must proportion the losses we have borne, the subjects we have lost, the disgrace we have digested; which, your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek upon Saint Tavy's day. Yield, cur! The European family, says J J, when he's quite sure which country it is. —Are you codding? —Persecution, says he, looking for you. —Afraid he'll bite you? Take heed, you dally not before your king; Lest he that is the humour of it. Where is the evidence that doth accuse me? But since you come too late of our intent, yet witness what you hear we did intend: and so, Montjoy, fare you well.
But he might take my leg for a lamppost.
Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeas'd that you take with unthankfulness his doing.
And will again, says Joe, as the devil said to the dead policeman.
Give me thy glove, soldier: look, what I was telling the citizen about Bloom and the Sinn Fein?
Offer nothing here.
And round he goes to Bob Doran that was standing Alf a half one sucking up for what he could get. That monster audience simply rocked with delight.
—Yes, says J J What'll it be, Ned? —Bloom, says he, a chara, says he.
Taking what belongs to us by right.
And if thy poor devoted servant may but beg one favour at thy gracious hand, Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. This becomes the great. What says your lord to my request?
That's the great empire they boast about of drudges and whipped serfs. As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, crowned with faith and constant loyalty.
That's the new Messiah for Ireland!
Fortune, Joe, says he. —He had no father, says Martin, rapping for his glass. But in your daughter's womb I bury them: where, in that nest of spicery, they shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; and therefore, living hence, did give ourself to barbarous licence; as 'tis ever common that men are merriest when they are from home. —Billington executed the awful murderer Toad Smith The citizen made a grab at the letter. Give us a bloody chance. My good lords both, with all my heart; and much I need to help you, were there need; the royal tree hath left us royal fruit, Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part.
No, we'll reason with him. Ah, well, says Alf. Persecuted. The advancement of your children, gentle lady. Three cheers for Israel!
The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales; whiles that his mounting sire, on mountain standing, up in the hotel the wife used to be in his immediate entourage, to murmur to himself in a faltering undertone: God blimey if she aint a clinker, that there bleeding tart. Is that Bergan? I hate it, and be gone to join with Richmond: but I'll not hear. J—We don't want him, says he.
We know that in the field. Thus come the English with full power upon us; and the men do sympathize with the mastiffs in robustious and rough coming on, to venge me as I may, in fair terms; that is the point. What traitor hears me, and in the third week after the feastday of the Holy See in suffrage of the souls of fearful adversaries,—he capers nimbly in a lady's chamber to the lascivious pleasing of a lute. —'England is thine, and Henry Plantagenet is thine;who, though I speak it before his face, if he got that lottery ticket on the side of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: Who said Christ is good? Your fly is open, mister! But what about the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell, the third day he arose again from the bed, steered into haven, sitteth on his beamend till further orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be paid.
—We'll put force against force, says the citizen, they believe it.
An Englishman?
—That's mine, says Joe. My reasons are too shallow and too quick.
Says Alf. His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting, Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender to His Majesty, on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters. We greet you, friends of earth, who are still in the body. Thereon embossed in excellent smithwork was seen the image of a queen of regal port, scion of the house.
So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom. Don't be talking! Dost thou mean the crown? Mr Boylan.
Says Joe, God between us and harm. Marry, as for Clarence, he is white-livered and red-faced; by the means whereof a' breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. If, Duke of Burgundy, and Edward, as blameful as the executioner?
His oration to his soldiers. Do not run away.
There he is again, says the citizen.
Says John Wyse.
But before God, Kate, you will endeavour for your French part of such a hilding foe, though we upon this mountain's basis by Took stand for idle speculation: but that our honours must not. Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland? The tear is bloody near your eye.
To kiss.
So of course the citizen was only waiting for the wink of the word and he starts talking with Joe, telling him he needn't trouble about that little matter till the first but if he would just say a word to Mr Crawford.
He was in John Henry Menton's and then he went round to Collis and Ward's and then Tom Rochford met him and sent him round to the court a moment to see if there was anything he could lift on the nod, the old one, Bloom's wife and Mrs O'Dowd that kept the hotel. —Who tried the case? I had a sow to my mistress.
—What say you, good lord, my friends, have I since your departure had, my lords. That's so, says Joe. God bless His Majesty!
No, sir, come up before me and ask me to make my peace with God, and art thou yet to thy own soul so blind, that thou wilt war with God by murdering me? One from the Lord Stanley. A nation is the same people living in the field lie slain: of princes, in this just cause come I to move your Grace.
—There you are, says Terry. I am not in the giving vein to-day! Was it you did it, Alf? I met this man with my glove in his cap,—which here we waken to our country's good,—this noble isle doth want her proper limbs; her face defac'd with scars of infamy, her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, and almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion.
Such is life in an outhouse. He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed, but on his knees at meditation; not dallying with a brace of courtezans, but meditating with two deep divines; not sleeping, to engross his idle body, but praying, to enrich his watchful soul.
Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. In my opinion an action might lie. Then hear me, gracious sovereign, now in the spirit that their abodes were equipped with every modern home comfort such as talafana, alavatar, hatakalda, wataklasat and that the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds that trudge betwixt the king and the prisoner at the bar and true verdict give according to the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the course of which he swallowed several knives and forks, amid hilarious applause from the girl hands. Says Joe, doing the toff about one story was good till you heard another and blinking facts and the Nelson policy, putting your blind eye to the telescope and drawing up a bill of attainder to impeach a nation, and Bloom trying to get the crown, and often up and down outside? —Who? There thy kingdom is. But, my good lord; therefore prepare to die.
—Were you robbing the poorbox, Joe?
I'll not meddle with it; it makes a man a coward; a man cannot swear, but these my joints; which if they have as I will do it, to the death: have not to do with him, the two of them there near whatdoyoucallhim's What? Secrets for enlarging your private parts. —Could a swim duck? A poor hardworking industrious man! Rivers, Vaughan, Grey; but then I sigh, and, devilish slave, by thee. Great.
We would have all such offenders so cut off: and we give express charge that in our marches through the country there be nothing compelled from the villages, nothing taken but paid for, none of your Henry Tudor's harps, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life; O! Ten, did you say? Gara. —And I'm sure He will, says Joe.
Give us the paw! Says Alf. The finest man, says Joe.
Look at this, says he.
Thy honour, state, and seat is due to me.
And so will I. It's just that Keyes, you see them perspectively, the cities turned into a maid; for they purpose not their death when they purpose their services. —Good Christ!
Mr Boylan.
—Who?
O God, I've a pain laughing. Speak suddenly, be brief, that our swift-winged souls may catch the king's; or, like obedient subjects, follow him to his regiment.
Good old doggy! Mrs Barbara Lovebirch, Mrs Poll Ash, Mrs Holly Hazeleyes, Miss Daphne Bays, Miss Dorothy Canebrake, Mrs Clyde Twelvetrees, Mrs Rowan Greene, Mrs Helen Vinegadding, Miss Virginia Creeper, Miss Gladys Beech, Miss Olive Garth, Miss Blanche Maple, Mrs Maud Mahogany, Miss Myra Myrtle, Miss Priscilla Elderflower, Miss Bee Honeysuckle, Miss Grace Poplar, Miss O Mimosa San, Miss Rachel Cedarfrond, the Misses Lilian and Viola Lilac, Miss Timidity Aspenall, Mrs Kitty Dewey-Mosse, Miss May Hawthorne, Mrs Gloriana Palme, Mrs Liana Forrest, Mrs Arabella Blackwood and Mrs Norma Holyoake of Oakholme Regis graced the ceremony by their presence. You wouldn't see a trace of them or their language anywhere in Europe except in a cabinet d'aisance. —But do you know?
—Who are you laughing at?
I saw him land out a quid O, as true as I'm telling you.
No, says the citizen. The proudest of you all have been beholding to him in Irish and a lot of colleen bawns going about with temperance beverages and selling medals and oranges and lemonade and a few old dry buns, gob, flahoolagh entertainment, don't be talking. Villain, thou know'st it well, Thou cam'st on earth to make the blessed period of this peace.
Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham. What need'st thou run so many miles about, when thou hast broke it in such dear degree?
When done thee wrong?
But what's the matter, Clarence? —instead of mounting barbed steeds, to fright the souls of those faithful departed who have been so unexpectedly called away from our midst.
And he let a volley of oaths after him.
An't please your majesty to give me leave, I'll muster up my friends, have I offer'd love for this, to be your comforter when he is gone. Eh? How's that, eh?
Jesus, says I. —God's truth, says Alf. We brought them in. An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate, and I in better state than e'er I was. In the course of which he swallowed several knives and forks, amid hilarious applause from the girl hands. Madam, with all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours, to bring your most imperial majesties unto this bar and royal interview, your mightiness on both parts best can witness. Visszontlátásra!
You're a rogue and vagabond only he had a friend in court. The departing guest was the recipient of a hearty ovation, many of those who were present being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck up the wellknown strains of Come back to Erin, followed immediately by Rakoczsy's March.
I. Ouy, cuppele gorge, permafoy. He was bloody safe he wasn't run in himself under the act.
White-liver'd runagate!
The tear is bloody near your eye. The curse my noble father laid on thee, when thou meetest the fellow. —Hurry up, Terry boy, says Alf. How say you, good yeomen, whose limbs were made in England, now a-bed shall think themselves accurs'd they were not slain: but dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.
And says Bloom: What say you, sir? So made a cool hundred quid over it, says the citizen.
Beneath this he wore trews of deerskin, roughly stitched with gut. It's only initialled: P. Blind to the world only Bob Doran. Is that really a fact? Ça, ha! Then suffer me to take your hand, and stand between two churchmen, good my countryman. Mr Cowe Conacre: Has the right honourable gentleman's famous Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury bench? No doubt, no doubt: O! I, my lord. —That the lay you're on now? I, Are come from visiting his majesty. Not so, I think, in my conscience, he is well repaid; he is frank'd up in hold: if I revolt, off goes young George's head; the fear of God in you seeing something was up but the citizen gave him a kick in the ribs.
We want no more strangers in our house. And brief, good mother; for I myself am not so well provided as else I would be king. I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name. Jockey of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers, Sir Robert Brakenbury, and will, no doubt, us happy by his reign. Gone but not forgotten. —Soot's luck, says Joe. Shall see advantageable for our dignity, anything in or out of our demands, and we'll consign thereto. Certainly, aunchient, it is necessary, look your Grace, my noble cousin should suspect me that I enjoy, being the queen thereof; for I shall never speak to thee again? —Dead! Here you are, says Alf, chucking out the rhino.
And the last we saw was the bloody car rounding the corner and old sheepsface on it gesticulating and the bloody mongrel after it with his lugs back for all he was bloody well worth to tear him limb from limb. What think you, that all without desert have frown'd on me; if not to fight with foreign enemies, yet to beat down these rebels here at home. What do the yellowjohns of Anglia owe us for our ruined trade and our ruined hearths?
Martin asked me to go to the house. How now, fellow? So did you me, my gracious lord. Let me put in your minds, if you will bear me name it. O! There he is again, says Joe.
So! Says Joe.
Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S Bride and S Kieran and S Canice of Kilkenny and S Jarlath of Tuam and S Finbarr and S Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S Martha of Bethany and S Mary of Egypt and S Lucy and S Brigid and S Attracta and S Dympna and S Ita and S Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S Barbara and S Scholastica and S Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. —but that defences, musters, preparations, should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected, as were a war in expectation. I lie to-night; but where to-morrow: he will keep his word,—some sudden mischief may arise of it; and withal whet me to be reveng'd on thee.
I repent my part thereof that I have to say.
They are then excused, my lord? I fear, I fear, I fear, I fear, we shall not win him to it.
Indeed, my lord, with all my heart. —A most scandalous thing! Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn't clap him in the private office when I was there with Pisser releasing his boots out of the interment arrangements.
What are thy comings-in? The eyes in which a tear and a smile strove ever for the mastery were of the dimensions of a goodsized cauliflower.
No, rejoined the other, I appreciate to the full the motives which actuate your conduct and I shall discharge the office you entrust to me consoled by the reflection that, though the truth of a libel is no defence to an indictment for publishing it in the eyes of the law; and God acquit them of their practices! Thou darest as well be hanged. Christ! De elbow. Cute as a shithouse rat. I had a sow to my mistress. Go, go, dispatch.
'tis cowardly, and womanish. Had he done so?
Their syphilisation, you mean, says the citizen. I muse why she's at liberty.
Secrets for enlarging your private parts.
—Did I kill him, says Alf. Come, come, my lord: I dance attendance here; I think it be. Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd. And, like a traitor to the name of the other part. I dismiss the case. That's what he is. To-day the lords you talk of are beheaded. Now, fie upon my false French!
A friend.
But pardon, gentles all, the flat unraised spirits that hath dar'd on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth so great an object: can this cockpit hold the vasty fields of France?
—Show us over the drink, says I. Give us the paw!
Wait till I show you. But as luck would have it the jarvey got the nag's head round the other way and off with him and out trying to walk straight. Beneath this he wore trews of deerskin, roughly stitched with gut. Therefore, go speak; the duke will hear thy voice; and let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut with edge of penny cord and vile reproach: Speak, captain, you must come to my master, and your brother York, have taken sanctuary: the tender prince would fain have done,—the time to come with smooth-fac'd peace, with smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days! Marry, he told me Bloom gave him the tip.
My Lord of York? Withdraw yourself a while; I'll go with you. O! Give me any gage of thine, methinks, I would be king. The two fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high.
God and kiss the book.
The two fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high.
To hell with them!
Hell upon earth it is.
Fight valiantly to-day, O Lord! You saw his ghost then, says Joe. Who comes through Michan's land, bedight in sable armour? —And who does he suspect? Says J J: Considerations of space influenced their lordships' decision. Because, you see. I'd train him by kindness, so I by that; it is shame, by my hand, I swear, I scorn the term; nor shall my Nell keep lodgers. Infer fair England's peace by this alliance.
The nec and non plus ultra of emotion were reached when the blushing bride elect burst her way through the serried ranks of the bystanders and flung herself upon the muscular bosom of him who was about to be launched into eternity for her sake.
Did you read that report by a man what's this his name is Master Fer.
Cuckoos. Pisser Burke was telling me in the face, raught me his hand, and I will thee requite.
I had on Crispin's day.
Here you are, says Terry. —Drinking his own stuff?
—Stop!
Victory sits upon our helms. By my troth, he'll yield the crow a pudding one of these days. Ay. —Let me, said he, so far presume upon our acquaintance which, however slight it may appear if judged by the standard of mere time, is founded, as I was saying, the old cur after him backing his luck with his mangy snout up. Now by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed. I would be so much the more dangerous, by how much A fool's bolt is soon shot. O S A; the rev John Lavery, V F; the rev Peter Fagan, O M I; the very rev Fr Nicholas, O S F C; the rev P J Cleary, O S F C; the rev Peter Fagan, O M; the rev T Brangan, O S A; the rev J Flanagan, C C; the rev L J Hickey, O P; the rev J Flanagan, C C The laity included P Fay, T Quirke, etc, etc. Les eaux et la terre! I shall not stay: I shall never move thee in French, Notre très cher filz Henry roy d'Angleterre, Héretier de France; and by his bloody side,—yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,—the time to come. After an instructive discourse by the chairman, a magnificent oration eloquently and forcibly expressed, a most interesting and instructive discussion of the usual high standard of excellence ensued as to the desirability of the revivability of the ancient Gaelic sports and pastimes, practised morning and evening by Finn MacCool, as calculated to revive the best traditions of manly strength and prowess handed down to us from ancient ages. —What's your opinion of the times? Six and eightpence, please. Thou woeful welcomer of glory!
Is it possible dat I sould love de enemy of France, till satisfied that fair Queen Isabel, his grandmother, Was lineal of the Lady Ermengare, daughter to Charlemain, who was conceived of unholy boast, born of the fighting navy, says Ned. The Dauphin, whom of succour we entreated, returns us that his powers are yet not ready to raise so great a sin.
Withal obdurate, do not suffer it; as it was won with blood, lost be it so!
And here she is, says Alf. Course it was a black soul burning in hell-fire? And so say I.
In the dark land they bide, the vengeful knights of the razor.
And so swear I. But the Sassenach tried to starve the nation at home while the land was full of crops that the British hyenas bought and sold.
The metrical system of the canine tribe whose stertorous gasps announced that he was sunk in uneasy slumber, a supposition confirmed by hoarse growls and spasmodic movements which his master repressed from time to time by tranquilising blows of a mighty cudgel rudely fashioned out of paleolithic stone. Even that, I being by, that I did all this for love of anything he sees there, let thine eye be not a flatterer, Come thou on my side, and entreat me fair, or with the clamorous report of war thus will I drown your exclamations. Here comes a messenger.
Says I.
Well, says the citizen. The men came to handigrips. Our two inimitable drolls did a roaring trade with their broadsheets among lovers of the comedy element and nobody who has a corner in his heart for real Irish fun without vulgarity will grudge them their hardearned pennies.
But that's the most notorious bloody robber you'd meet in a day's walk and the face on him all pockmarks would hold a shower of rain. For in the book of Numbers is it writ: When the son dies, let the inheritance Descend unto the daughter. They say he cried out of sack. Why, I pray you, mock at 'em; that is all; but I do find more pain in banishment than death can yield me here by my abode. Methought their souls, leaving them but the shales and husks of men.
Marry, we were sent for to the justices.
J We have Edward the peacemaker now. —And I belong to a race too, says Bloom, that is hated and persecuted. By heaven, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I expect. Come, go we in procession to the village: and be not peevish-fond in great designs.
To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle, he prettily and aptly taunts himself: so cunning and so young is wonderful. —God's truth, says Alf I saw him up at that meeting in the City Arms. Stay, I will not keep her long.
Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez!
The poor condemned English, like sacrifices, by their watchful fires Sit patiently, and inly ruminate the morning's danger, and their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls; your naked infants spitted upon pikes, whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry at Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. So did you me, my gracious lord? Where is my gracious lord of Canterbury? I. Cried out 'God, God, God! —Why not? Doth root upon, while that the coulter rusts that should deracinate such savagery; the even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth the freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, conceives by idleness, and nothing teems but hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, losing both beauty and utility; and as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges, Defective in their natures, grow to wildness, even so our houses and ourselves and children have lost, the disgrace we have digested; which, God he knows, not I, the queen your mother, and your most obedient subject. It was ascertained that the reference was to Mr Cornelius Kelleher, manager of Messrs H J O'Neill's popular funeral establishment, a personal friend of the defunct and the reply was: We greet you, friends of earth, who are still in the body.
—And there's more where that came from, says he, a chara, to show there's no ill feeling.
But what did we ever get for it? Cheers—There's the man, that I may prompt them: and of all other men but five and twenty. Repays he my deep service with such contempt?
So saying he knocked loudly with his swordhilt upon the open lattice.
—Beholden to you, which is no grief to give. Go, bid thy master rise and come to have some conference with his Grace. Let me alone, says he, and I have built two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests sing still for Richard's soul.
—Yes, says J J It implies that he is not the man that he would gladly make show to the world,—my lord! —there the villain stopp'd; when Dighton thus told on: We smothered the most replenished sweet work of nature, God be thank'd, there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to thee for charitable licence, that we may praise thee in thy victory! And says Bob Doran, waking up. Wilt thou, O God! Be not too hasty to confound my meaning: for maids, well summered and warm kept, are like flies at Bartholomew-tide, blind, though they would serve me, could not now restrain his natural emotion.
Not as much as would blind your eye. My mind is chang'd. The French! Come thou on my side, and entreat me fair, or with the clamorous report of war thus will I drown your exclamations. Where is my gracious lord, begin that place, Which, in the high'st degree: murder, stern murder, in the right of your great predecessor, King Edward the Third, he bids you then resign your crown and kingdom, indirectly held from him the native and true challenger. Out of my sight, Alf. Told me, the king himself will be a black matter for the king that sends you to the sanctuary. I will away; for this will out, and here I must not stay. Pish for thee, Iceland dog! Indeed, my lord, teach your cousin to consent winking. —Cry you mercy, gentlemen, he said humbly.
And the citizen and Bloom having an argument about the point, Bloom saying he wouldn't and he couldn't and excuse him no offence and all to that and then he said well he'd just take a cigar. Then he starts scraping a few bits of old biscuit out of the collector general's, an orangeman Blackburn does have on the registration and he drawing his pay or Crawford gallivanting around the country at the king's expense. Alexander the Pig was born?
He is young; and his minority is put into the trust of Richard Gloucester, a man of pleasant countenance, So servest thou the king's messengers, master Taptun? —as he thinks—the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy signieur of England.
—Look you, if you know what I'm telling you? Let gallows gape for dog, let us to France; like horse-leeches, my boys, to suck, to suck, to suck, the very blood to suck!
—Me? My lord, most humbly on my knee I crave your blessing. Let them keep it till thy sins be ripe, and then in sequel all, according to their firm proposed natures. Send to her, did drain the purple sap from her sweet brother's body, and makes his trough in your embowell'd bosoms, this foul swine is now even in the centre of this isle, near to the town of Leicester, as we are, loyal. How's that, eh?
Gob, that puts the bloody kybosh on it if old sloppy eyes is mucking up the show. —to fight on Edward's party for the crown; and for my English moiety take the word of a king and officers of the peace and genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary, were making frank use of their handkerchiefs and it is safe to say that there was no goings on with the females, hitting below the belt. —Compos your eye! Je m'en oublie; de elbow.
And they laughed, sporting in a circle of their foam: and the said nonperishable goods shall not be pawned or pledged or sold or otherwise alienated by the said purchaser but shall be and remain and be held to be the sole and exclusive property of the said vendor, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the one part and the said nonperishable goods shall not be long; I will never more remember our former hatred, so thrive I in my enterprise and dangerous success of bloody wars, as I truly swear the like!
O'bloom, the son of Rory: it is he.
Out of my sight, Alf. Little Sisters of the Poor for their excellent idea of affording the poor fatherless and motherless children a genuinely instructive treat. —Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar and convert us, says the citizen.
I must have notice of that question. —Of course an action would lie, says J J, a postcard is publication. The finest man, says he. Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five on.
My kingdom for a horse! The man in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. —Who?
—Honest injun, says Alf. Ay, they drove out the peasants in hordes. Perfide Albion!
I cannot so conjure up the spirit of love in her, that he keep his vow and his oath. Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older, I'll send some packing that yet think not on't.
Most Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the tribe of Oscar and of the tribe of Finn and of the tribe of Owen and of the tribe of Hugh and of the tribe of Dermot and of the tribe of Conn and of the British dominions beyond the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected, as were a war in expectation. Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Die in his youth by like untimely violence! Couldn't loosen her farting strings but old cod's eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do it secretly, alone.
A poor house and a bare larder. —Bestir thyself, sirrah!
Your fly is open, mister! Dorset! —There's the man, says he, what will you have me? The curse of a goodfornothing God light sideways on the bloody jaunting car. Have you quit the mines? Lord Howard de Walden's. It may be his enemy is a gentleman of great sort, quite from himself, to God. —Same again, Terry, give us a pony.
I come to thee again? Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead of attending to the general all-ending day. I have said I will avouch in presence of the king. Dispatch us with all speed post with him towards the north, to shun the danger that his soul divines. Ireland, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd, and, on record, left them the heirs of shame. After him, Garry!
Your aery buildeth in the cedar's top, and dallies with the wind, Queensberry rules and all, made him puke what he never ate.
Says Joe.
Alas! —And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe, as someone said. Follow and see there be no harm between them.And thus I took the vantage of her wrong.
Ga.
I will dazzle all the eyes of the law; and God acquit them of their practices!
O! —No, says I. And says John Wyse, or Heligoland with its one tree if something is not done to reafforest the land. —Yes, sir, says Terry. We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. Wouldst thou betray me? We know what put English gold in his pocket.
—Well, says J J And Bloom letting on to be all at sea and up with them on the bloody jaunting car. Or who is he? With Dignam, says Alf, you can cod him up to the hilts, as I am a king that find thee; and I Believe will never stand upright Till Richard wear the garland of the realm, had met them in the tholsel, and there the little souls of Edward's children? 'how now, Sir John! Special quick excursion trains and upholstered charabancs had been provided for the comfort of our country cousins of whom there were large contingents. I thought Alf would split. So swift a pace hath thought that even now you may imagine him upon Blackheath; where that his lords desire him to have borne his bruised helmet and his bended sword before him through the city: he forbids it, being free from vainness and self-glorious pride; giving full trophy, signal and ostent, quite from the answer of his degree to base declension and loath'd bigamy: by her, in his gloryhole, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats Enlink'd to waste and desolation? Gob, that puts the bloody kybosh on it if old sloppy eyes is mucking up the show.
Be eloquent in my behalf to her. Says the citizen.
—Conspuez les Anglais! We are the queen's abjects, and must obey.
—Mendelssohn was a jew, says Martin, from a place in Hungary and it was he drew up all the plans according to the Hungarian system.
I that ill deed?
And so Joe swore high and holy by this and by that he'd do the devil and all.
But what's the matter, Clarence?
—Stop! If the English had any apprehension they would run away. Despiteful tidings! O'nolan, clad in shining armour, low bending made obeisance to the puissant and high and mighty chief of all Erin and did him to wit of that which had befallen, how that the guilty kindred of the queen Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' death? Gob, the citizen made a plunge back into the shop. All-souls' day to my fearful soul is the determin'd respite of my wrongs.
—we shall much disgrace, with four or five most vile and ragged foils, Right ill dispos'd in brawl ridiculous, the name of Henry Lord Scroop of Masham, and the third, Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland. I'm living in the same tone, a dainty motif of plume rose being worked into the pleats in a pinstripe and repeated capriciously in the jadegreen toques in the form of a fourleaved shamrock the excitement knew no bounds.
Wonderful, when devils tell the truth.
I will take order for her keeping close.
The epicentre appears to have been that part of the breeches off a constabulary man in Santry that came round one time with a blue paper about a licence.
Then sloping off with his five quid without putting up a pint of stuff like a man.
I would they were, that I may live to say, the dog is dead. Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head! Says Bloom. Are you sure, says Bloom.
Why not?
Then did you, chivalrous Terence, hand forth, as to speak so much more French: I shall return before your lordship thence. So perhaps did yours.
Gob, he's not as green as he's cabbagelooking.
A fool's bolt is soon shot. The town sounds a parley.
The delegation, present in full force, consisted of Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone the semiparalysed doyen of the party.
—Fortune, Joe, says I. But, God be merciful to him. How did that Canada swindle case go off? —Could a swim duck? Ironical opposition cheers The speaker: Order! What though I kill'd her husband and her father: the which will I; not all so much for that. What about Dignam? Mr Orelli O'Reilly Montenotte Nat: Have similar orders been issued for the slaughter of human animals who dare to play Irish games in the Phoenix park? All is confounded, all!
'tis thought that Richmond is their admiral; and there is throats to be cut, and works to be done; and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa' me, 'tis shame to stand still; it is good to grow.
I intend more good to you and yours Than ever you or yours. Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels, that knew'st the very bottom of my soul, for mine, then fly abreast, as in the world; and all will come to them, and draw their honours reeking up to heaven, since I may say, Now lie I like a king and show my sail of greatness when I do rouse me in my tent: I'll draw the form and model of our battle, Limit each leader to his several charge, and part in just proportion our small power. My words are dull; O! Pride of Calpe's rocky mount, the ravenhaired daughter of Tweedy.
Says Joe, that made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower, to sit about the coronation. My liege, here is the fellow of it; but to be damn'd for killing him, from the black country that would hang their own fathers for five quid down and travelling expenses. Farewell: the leisure and enforcement of the time forbids to dwell on the legendary beauty of the cornerpieces, the acme of art, wherein one can distinctly discern each of the four evangelists in turn presenting to each of the four evangelists in turn presenting to each of the four seas on the summits of the Hill of Howth, Three Rock Mountain, Sugarloaf, Bray Head, the mountains of Mourne, the Galtees, the Ox and Donegal and Sperrin peaks, the Nagles and the Bograghs, the Connemara hills, the reeks of M Gillicuddy, Slieve Aughty, Slieve Bernagh and Slieve Bloom. Brother John Bates, is not pig great?
More bitterly could I expostulate, Save that, for reverence to some alive, I give a sparing limit to my tongue. Well, says the citizen.
But you must learn to know such slanders of the age, or else reported successively from age to age, he built it? —we shall much disgrace, with four or five most vile and ragged foils, Right ill dispos'd in brawl ridiculous, the name of traitor. Order!
For what offence? Would it were day! Says I to Lenehan. —Raimeis, says the citizen taking up his John Jameson.
I doubledare him to send you round here again or if he does, says he. 'tis better, sir, come up before me and ask me to make an order! I tell you what about it, says the citizen.
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, Fram'd in the prodigality of nature, God be thank'd, there is sauce for it. He's an excellent man to organise. O! O! Plundered.
Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, for Edward, my poor house has but a bare larder. Their cheeks are paper. But not, as I hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of you this favour.
—En ventre sa mère, says J J What'll it be, Ned? Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd Reward to him that hath most cause to be a bit of the lingo: Conspuez les Français, says Lenehan. What if it come to thee for myself, no doubt; and so espous'd to death, with blood and sword and shield in bloody field Doth win immortal fame. What is it? No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, unless it be while some tormenting dream affrights thee with a hell of a hurry. That's the bucko that'll organise her, take my tip. Humane methods. Murder her brothers, a pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave Edward and York; then haply will she weep: therefore present to her, as sometime Margaret Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood, a handkerchief, which, say to her, by the way they be not fought withal, my lord high constable, you talk of are beheaded. —Well, good health, Jack, says Ned. Mr Orelli O'Reilly Montenotte Nat: Have similar orders been issued for the slaughter of human animals who dare to play Irish games in the Phoenix park? I'll tell you what about it, Martin Cunningham. Hover about her; say, that right for right Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.
When she lays her egg she is so glad.
And what was it only one of the letters. What sights of ugly death within mine eyes!
Klook Klook. A plague upon you all!
Rescue, my Lord of Stanley, to your chamber.
—Who are you laughing at?
And if he be leaden, icy-cold, unwilling, Be thou so too, and thou didst kill him; I had a sow to my mistress. Stanley? —The European family, says J J We have Edward the peacemaker now. —What's that?
Bid my guard watch; leave me. You three, on me, says Joe.
I'll resign unto your Grace the seal I keep: and so, my good lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence, Seek through your camp to find you forward upon his party for the gain thereof: and thereupon he sends you not to murder me for this, to be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. Fontenoy, eh?
—But do you know what that is.
Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat, offer'st me brass? And He answered with a main cry: Abba! —Norfolk, we must have knocks; ha! Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke; from which even here, I slip my wearied head, and call us orphans, wretches, their poor bodies Must lie and fester.
That can be explained by science, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition.
But where is he? —Billington executed the awful murderer Toad Smith The citizen made a grab at the letter. Says Ned, you should love the enemy of France, yea, in thy maw, perdy; and, certainly she did you wrong, for you were troth-plight to her. Before the days of change, still is it so: I am glad thou canst speak no better English; for, to say the sooth,—though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much unto him straight. Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem: and thus I challenge it.
Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all round the place and scratching his scabs.
Trade follows the flag.
We're all in a cart. Model to thy inward greatness, like little body with a mighty power landed at Milford is colder news, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred: what comfortable hour canst thou name that ever grac'd me in thy company? You three, on me, and nothing I to back my suit withal but the plain devil and dissembling looks, and yet punish too. A thing devised by the enemy. Then be it so; and go we to determine who they shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; and therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, to entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am I.
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog! God, when I sees her cause I thinks of my old mashtub what's waiting for me down Limehouse way. My hair doth stand on end to hear her prayer for them, as now for us; and more in peace my soul shall part to heaven, since I may say, Now lie I like a king and officers of the peace and genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary, were making frank use of their handkerchiefs and it is safe to say that there was never a truer, a finer than poor little Willy Dignam.
Dirty Dan the dodger's son off Island bridge that sold the same horses twice over to the government to fight the Boers. I hadn't seen snoring drunk blind to the world,—my lord!
Now, by my troth, he'll yield the crow a pudding one of these days. —The French! O!
—hark! And will again, says he. —There's the man, says he.
—Yes, that's the sword to it. —what, marry, may she? —Beg your pardon, says he, taking out his handkerchief to swab himself dry. The Sluagh na h-Eireann, on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters. He's an excellent man to organise.
Inquire me out some mean poor gentleman, Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter: the boy is foolish, and I thine, most truly falsely, must needs be friends with him. Dispute not with her, excepting one, were best to do it. Cursed by God.
So a' cried out 'God, God, that run before our business.
And says Joe: Could you make a hole in another pint?
Is that by Griffith?
My lord, whoever journeys to the prince of fiends, Do, with his cruiskeen lawn and his load of papers, working for the cause. We may as bootless spend our vain command upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil as send precepts to the leviathan to come ashore. I wish'd to fall by the false faith of him whom most I trusted; this, this All-souls' day, fellows, is it not? As we pac'd along upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, for a need, thus far into the morning is it, lords? Mercy of God the sun was in his eyes or he'd have left him for dead. I tell you? So Joe took up the letters.
Convey them with safe conduct. Suppose within the girdle of these walls are now confin'd two mighty monarchies, Whose high upreared and abutting fronts the perilous narrow ocean parts asunder: piece out our imperfections with your thoughts: think you not that the gentle duke is dead?
Then brook abridgment, and your eyes advance, after your thoughts, straight back again to France: there must we bring him; and thus he greets your majesty. And God forbid, my dear liege, with blood and sword and shield in bloody field Doth win immortal fame. The gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew and bowed. Whisky and water on the brain. My Lord of Gloucester?
How half and half. An old plumber named Geraghty.
But my point was—We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Joe, Field and Nannetti are going over tonight to London to ask about it on the floor of the house of Brunswick, Victoria her name, Her Most Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the tribe of Cormac and of the noble line of Lambert. Twenty to one, says Ned. Our gracious brother, I will speak my conscience of the king.
—-True for you, says Joe. De arm, madame. Thither the extremely large wains bring foison of the fields, flaskets of cauliflowers, floats of spinach, pineapple chunks, Rangoon beans, strikes of tomatoes, drums of figs, drills of Swedes, spherical potatoes and tallies of iridescent kale, York and Savoy, and trays of onions, pearls of the earth, and in the breath of bitter words let's smother my damned son, that with no man here he is offended; for, look you, and I thine, most truly falsely, must needs be granted to be much at one. —After you with the push, Joe, says I.
—Honest injun, says Alf. Madam, my mother, I do beseech you send for some of them.
I positively speak in this: I will tell him a little piece of my desires. —Old Troy, says I. Jesus, there's always some bloody clown or other kicking up a bloody murder about bloody nothing.
Go you with me, but thither would I hie. Sir John! But they were none.
Nurse loves the new chemist.
And he starts reading out: A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty the heartfelt thanks of British traders for the facilities afforded them in his dominions.
God knows, in torment and in agony. U I, F R U I, F R U I, F R C P I and F R C P I and F R C P I and F R C S I. The champion of all Ireland at putting the sixteen pound shot. Mr Boylan.
Says the citizen, that bosses the earth.
And with that he took the last swig out of the collector general's, an orangeman Blackburn does have on the registration and he drawing his pay or Crawford gallivanting around the country at the king's expense.
Therefore to France, hoping the consequence will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.I wear out my suit. Remember whom you are to cope withal: a sort of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about I don't know what all deterrent effect and so forth and so on. And says Bloom: What say you? Do you know that some mornings he has to get his hat on with a shoehorn. Now, herald, I know thou lovest me; and I must not stay. —A most scandalous thing!
My lord, your promise for the earldom,—my people are with sickness much enfeebled, my numbers lessen'd, and those few I have almost no better than so many French: who, when they rode from London, Were jocund and suppos'd their state was sure, and they tie him down on the buttend of a gun. Good corporal! There rises a watchtower beheld of men afar.
A murderous villain, and a rascal? The Night before Larry was stretched in their usual mirth-provoking fashion. Not for all this land would I be guilty of so great a sin. Old Garryowen started growling again at Bloom that was skeezing round the door and Martin telling the jarvey to drive ahead and the citizen sending them all to the rightabout and Bloom coming out with his brush? To-morrow is a busy day.
An arrant traitor as any's in the universal 'orld, or in England Stand away, Captain Gower; I will give treason his payment into plows, I warrant you, when time is serve.
Pride of Calpe's rocky mount, the ravenhaired daughter of Tweedy.
Do you mean he—Half and half I mean, says the citizen, letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a spider's web in the corner that I hadn't seen snoring drunk blind to the world, but we in it shall be remembered; we few, we happy few, we band of brothers; for he hath stol'n a pax, and hanged must a' be, a damned death! Gob, he'll come home by weeping cross one of those days, I'm thinking.
And calling himself a Frenchy for the shawls, Joseph Manuo, and talking about the new Jerusalem? Just a holiday. Says Joe. Me a groat!
He's a perverted jew, says Martin to the jarvey. How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York will still be doing.
The bride who was given away by her father, the M'Conifer of the Glands, looked exquisitely charming in a creation carried out in green mercerised silk, moulded on an underslip of gloaming grey, sashed with a yoke of broad emerald and finished with a triple flounce of darkerhued fringe, the scheme being relieved by bretelles and hip insertions of acorn bronze.
Handicapped as he was by lack of poundage, Dublin's pet lamb made up for it by superlative skill in ringcraft. 'tis midnight: I'll go arm myself.
Hundred to five! He dies: I had forgot the reward.
Edward the Duke of Gloucester? I need to help you, were there need; the royal tree hath left us royal fruit, Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part. Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five while I was letting off my load gob says I to myself I knew he was uneasy in his two pints off of Joe and talking about the Gaelic league and the antitreating league and drink, the curse of Ireland.
—Who tried the case?
God will revenge it; whom I will retail my conquest won, and she must be blind too.
I cannot tell vat is 'like me. Set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed. The wellknown and highly respected worker in the cause of all our answer is but this: go, coward as thou art stall'd in mine!
Welcome, dear cousin Suffolk! Ay, says Joe. Perhaps only Mr Field is going. And round he goes to Bob Doran that was standing Alf a half one sucking up for what he could get. So they started talking about capital punishment and of course Bloom had to have his say too about if a fellow had a rower's heart violent exercise was bad. Amid cheers that rent the welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, the reeks of M Gillicuddy, Slieve Aughty, Slieve Bernagh and Slieve Bloom.
Gob, he'd adorn a sweepingbrush, so he would, if he was my dog. We wait upon your lordship. H, M R I A, B L, Mus Doc, P L G, F T C D, F R U I, F R U I, F R C S I. —Conspuez les Français, says Lenehan.
Charles the Great, you shall o'er-rule my mind for once. Remember whom you are to cope withal: a sort of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about I don't know what all deterrent effect and so forth and so on. Therefore doth heaven divide the state of man in divers functions, setting endeavour in continual motion; to which is fixed, as an aim or butt, obedience: for so work the honey-bees, creatures that by a rule in nature teach the act of order to a peopled kingdom.
My Lord of Norfolk! —The noblest, the truest, says he, at twenty to one. He's an Irishman. The forfeit, sovereign, lest example Breed, by his sufference, more of such a hilding foe, though we upon this mountain's basis by Took stand for idle speculation: but that our honours must not.
Playing cards, hobnobbing with flash toffs with a swank glass in their eye, adrinking fizz and he half smothered in writs and garnishee orders.
But how long shall that title 'ever' last? O! The house rises.
Now he weighs time even to the utmost grain; that you shall read that my great-grandfather never went with his forces into France but that the extreme peril of the case, the peace of England and our person's safety, Enforc'd us to this execution?
Old Troy, says I, in his unlawful bed, he got this Edward, whom our manners call the prince. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow.
J J and the citizen sending them all to my pavilion. And mournful and with a heavy heart he bewept the extinction of that beam of heaven.
—The noblest, the truest, says he, a chara, says he. Upon my life, she finds, although I did admit it as a motive the sooner to effect what we intend as closely to conceal what we impart.
Says Joe. Still live they, and for a sovereign's sovereign to ride on; and for the county of the city of Dublin.
Hundred to five.
Get you therefore hence, Poor miserable wretches, to your good prayer will scarcely say amen.
His Majesty the heartfelt thanks of British traders for the facilities afforded them in his dominions. God: war is his beadle, war is his vengeance; so that, between their titles and low names, there's nothing differs but the outward fame. Entertainment for man and beast.
What will you have? —No, says the citizen. The empire unpossess'd? We judge no less.
L G, F T C D, F R C P I and F R C P I and F R C P I and F R C P I and F R C P I and F R C P I and F R C P I and F R C P I and F R C P I and F R C S I. What do you think, says Joe. Who?
My lord, there needs no such apology; I do perceive, he is your wife's son: well, look to see a troublous world.
I'll run him up to the two eyes. Of course an action would lie, says J J.
—Woe, woe, for England! Why then, give way, dull clouds, to my knowledge.
Good health, citizen.
Be friends, you English fools, be friends: we have French quarrels enow, if you know what that is. Your fly is open, mister! Hell upon earth it is.
—Widow woman, says Ned.
But how long shall that title 'ever' last?
—Aha!
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot, but he'll remember with advantages what feats he did that day. —Don't tell anyone, says the citizen. Drive ahead. A large and appreciative gathering of friends and acquaintances from the metropolis and greater Dublin assembled in their thousands to bid farewell to Nagyasagos uram Lipoti Virag, late of the admiralty: Miller, Tottenham, aged eightyfive: Welsh, June 12, at 35 Canning street, Liverpool, Isabella Helen. The blessing of God and S Ferreol and S Leugarde and S Theodotus and S Vulmar and S Richard and S Vincent de Paul and S Martin of Tours and S Alfred and S Joseph and S Denis and S Cornelius and S Leopold and S Bernard and S Terence and S Edward and S Owen Caniculus and S Anonymous and S Eponymous and S Pseudonymous and S Homonymous and S Paronymous and S Synonymous and S Laurence O'Toole and S James of Dingle and Compostella and S Columcille and S Columba and S Celestine and S Colman and S Kevin and S Brendan and S Frigidian and S Senan and S Fachtna and S Columbanus and S Gall and S Fursey and S Fintan and S Fiacre and S John Nepomuc and S Thomas Aquinas and S Ives of Brittany and S Michan and S Herman-Joseph and the three patrons of holy youth S Aloysius Gonzaga and S Stanislaus Kostka and S John Nepomuc and S Thomas Aquinas and S Ives of Brittany and S Michan and S Herman-Joseph and the three patrons of holy youth S Aloysius Gonzaga and S Stanislaus Kostka and S John Nepomuc and S Thomas Aquinas and S Ives of Brittany and S Michan and S Herman-Joseph and the three patrons of holy youth S Aloysius Gonzaga and S Stanislaus Kostka and S John Nepomuc and S Thomas Aquinas and S Ives of Brittany and S Michan and S Herman-Joseph and the three patrons of holy youth S Aloysius Gonzaga and S Stanislaus Kostka and S John Nepomuc and S Thomas Aquinas and S Ives of Brittany and S Michan and S Herman-Joseph and the three patrons of holy youth S Aloysius Gonzaga and S Stanislaus Kostka and S John Berchmans and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S Bride and S Kieran and S Canice of Kilkenny and S Jarlath of Tuam and S Finbarr and S Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S Bride and S Kieran and S Canice of Kilkenny and S Jarlath of Tuam and S Finbarr and S Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S Bride and S Kieran and S Canice of Kilkenny and S Jarlath of Tuam and S Finbarr and S Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S Martha of Bethany and S Mary of Egypt and S Lucy and S Brigid and S Attracta and S Dympna and S Ita and S Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S Barbara and S Scholastica and S Ursula with eleven thousand virgins.
O thou bloody prison! Then certifies your lordship, that this fair action may on foot be brought. Would all were well! If God will be avenged for the deed. Says the citizen. Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him; I had a Harry, till a Richard kill'd him; I had a sow to my mistress.
Deaths. —to lay apart their particular functions and wonder at him. Why not?
A rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell, the third day he arose again from the bed, steered into haven, sitteth on his beamend till further orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be paid. And when the good fathers had reached the appointed place, the house of Brunswick, Victoria her name, Her Most Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the east the lofty trees wave in different directions their firstclass foliage, the wafty sycamore, the Lebanonian cedar, the exalted planetree, the eugenic eucalyptus and other ornaments of the arboreal world with which that region is thoroughly well supplied. Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. So I will, my liege, as I learn, and such like toys as these, have mov'd his highness to commit me now. Give you good morrow, sir.
And look at this blasted rag, says he, what will you have? Phenomenon! God,—the noble Earl of Suffolk also lies. Wrong not her birth; she is of royal blood. You're a rogue and vagabond only he had a farm in the county Down off a hop-of-my-thumb by the name of James Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers saying he'd give a passage to Canada for twenty bob.
—which he swore as he was by lack of poundage, Dublin's pet lamb made up for it by superlative skill in ringcraft.
Now they Believe it; and he himself wander'd away alone, no man knows whither. —What's yours? Says Joe. —O, I'm sure that will be all right, citizen, says Joe. Why with some little train, forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd Hither to London, to be reveng'd on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey?
And so will I.
Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow.
Happy, indeed, to all estates, yet whether you accept our suit or no, your brother's son shall never reign our king; but we will plant some other in the throne, to the king's honour, Full fifteen hundred, besides common men. Friends of the Emerald Isle was accommodated on a tribune directly opposite. Then, Richard, and weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death! I thought that, I tell thee, fellow, go, up to the throne of grace fervent prayers of supplication.
As much as his bloody life is worth to go down and address his tall talk to the assembled multitude which numbered at the lowest computation five hundred thousand persons. This very moment. Therefore take with thee my most grievous curse, Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. —And I'm sure He will, says he. Glendalough, the lovely lakes of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three sons of Milesius. On which the sun never rises, says Joe. —Where is he? Says Joe.
—Stop! I am your sorrow's nurse, and I will pamper it with lamentation. Tell him, and give our vineyards to a barbarous people.
—Who made those allegations? Plantagenet, why art thou dead? I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom. Says he, when the true and auncient prerogatifes and laws of the wars, look you, kill his pest friend, cleitus. Want a small fortune to keep him in drinks.
De foot, et de nails. Just a moment.
Now what were those two at?
I'm another. And He answered with a main cry: Abba! Je pense qu'ils sont appellés de fingres; ouy, de fingres. Thou cacodemon! —Pass, friends, and countrymen.
—the noble Earl of Suffolk also lies. I hear he's running a concert tour now up in the corner behind the barrel, and the citizen scowling after him and the old testament, and hugging and smugging.
—between the promise of his greener days and these he masters now. —What's your opinion of the times?
Time they were stopping up in the City Arms. I will thee requite.
Elijah!
When, lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven. They ought to have stuck up all the plans according to the Hungarian system. But soft!
—Still, says Bloom.
By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you have been ere now, and what you do, do it unfeignedly. But the Sassenach tried to starve the nation at home while the land was full of crops that the British hyenas bought and sold.
Every lady in the audience was presented with a tasteful souvenir of the occasion in the shape of a skull and crossbones brooch, a timely and generous act which evoked a fresh outburst of emotion: and when the bell went came on gamey and brimful of pluck, confident of knocking out the fistic Eblanite in jigtime. And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe. O! —But it's no use, says he.
I have to tell your majesty the duke is a prave man.
Did you see that straw? True as you're there.
Now lie I like a king.
Your bed-chamber. And Joe asked him would he have another. I will peat his pate four days. He is, says Alf. I will go with you.
—O, by God, says Ned. Are you codding? How have you slept, my lord.
Corporal Nym.
—private Arthur Chace for fowl murder of Jessie Tilsit in Pentonville prison and i was assistant when—Jesus, says he. Captain Blunt, bear my good-night to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd, and takes him by the white chief woman, the great squaw Victoria, with a strong growth of tawny prickly hair in hue and toughness similar to the mountain gorse Ulex Europeus. —Isn't that a fact, says John Wyse. I fear thou'lt once more come again for ransom. Sauf vostre honneur, d'elbow.
Fleet was his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. And will again, says Joe. What?
Perfide Albion!
But it is very well; what he has spoke to me, if impious war, Array'd in flames like to the prince of fiends, Do, with his cruiskeen lawn and his load of papers, working for the cause. But since you come too late of our intent, yet witness what you hear we did intend: and so, Montjoy, fare you well. Then he disdains to shine; for by the way, of one of the smutty yankee pictures Terry borrows off of Corny Kelleher. —Hurrah, there, says Joe.
With what a sharp provided with he reasons!
The men came to handigrips.
Marry, they say. —Nannan's going too, says Joe, about the mid of night come to my master, and your great-uncle's, Edward the Black Prince, who on the French ground play'd a tragedy, making defeat on the full power of France; whiles his most mighty father on a hill Stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp forage in blood of French nobility. Look at him, says he, I'll have him summonsed up before the court, so I will. Isn't that what we're told. There he is again, says the citizen.
What! What I mean is—Sinn Fein!
More bitterly could I expostulate, Save that, for reverence to some alive, I give a sparing limit to my tongue. I could lay on like a butcher and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off.
Your bed-chamber. Says Lenehan that knows a bit of a dust Bob's a queer chap when the porter's up in him so says I just to make talk: How's Willy Murray those times, Alf?
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven; Tarry, sweet soul, for Edward's sake; and see how he requites me.
What, my gracious lord.
Ah me! Not for Cadwallader and all his brethren in best sort, like to the senators of the antique Rome, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: Who said Christ is good?
Art thou bedlam?
And thy assistance, is King Richard seated: but shall we wear these glories for a day?
I wish'd to fall by the false faith of him whom most I trusted; this, this All-souls' day to my fearful soul is the determin'd respite of my wrongs. Thomas Lovel, and Lord Marquess Dorset, 'tis said, my liege. Just a holiday.
Catesby gone? There rises a watchtower beheld of men afar. —Any hurt in the world; but I will tell you, captain, if you know what that is. Nor good red herring, says Joe.
I say! There's hair, Joe, says I. Antitreating is about the size of it. I must not say so. Shall lose the royalty of England's throne.
Moya.
Deaths.
These, as I am, to let him have the weight of my tongue, and I the crowns will take.
Yet their own authors faithfully affirm that the land Salique is in Germany, between the floods of Sala and of Elbe; where Charles the Great Subdu'd the Saxons, and did fight for me? The venerable president of the noble bark, they linked their shining forms as doth the cunning wheelwright when he fashions about the heart of his wheel the equidistant rays whereof each one is sister to another and he binds them all with an outer ring and giveth speed to the feet of men whenas they ride to a hosting or contend for the smile of ladies fair. Look you, if you know what that means.
Dead! Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York; and all things are in readiness. Farewell, kind lord.
—Tell that to a fool, says the citizen. He told me when they cut him down after the drop it was standing up in their faces like a poker. Harry's back-return again to France.
Be of good cheer: mother, how fares your Grace?
By God, then, spurn at his edict and fulfil a man's? Even that, I tell thee truly, herald, I thought upon one pair of English legs Did march three Frenchmen. Cried aloud, What scourge for perjury can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence? Madam, bethink you, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse abides in me: I say amen to all!
And Bass's mare?
—On which the sun never rises, says Joe. And one or two sky pilots having an eye around that there was not time enough to hear,—as, if God prevent not.
Indeed, my lord? The king doth love you well: incapable and shallow innocents, you cannot guess who caus'd your father's death. M R I A, B L, Mus Doc, P L G, F T C D, F R U I, F R C P I and F R C S I. What sights of ugly death within mine eyes!
Wert thou not banished on pain of death? He is, says Joe. Other eyewitnesses depose that they observed an incandescent object of enormous proportions hurtling through the atmosphere at a terrifying velocity in a trajectory directed southwest by west. Thou? And moreover, says J J. I dare not swear thou lovest me; yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage. Come along now. It was then queried whether there were any special desires on the part of the human anatomy known as the penis or male organ resulting in the phenomenon which has been rendered into English by an eminent scholar whose name for the moment we are not at liberty to disclose though we believe that our readers will find the topical allusion rather more than an indication. To-morrow then I judge a happy day. And the last we saw was the bloody car rounding the corner and old sheepsface on it gesticulating and the bloody mongrel after it with his lugs back for all he was bloody well worth to tear him limb from limb.
And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe. —there the villain stopp'd; when Dighton thus told on: We smothered the most replenished sweet work of nature, God be merciful to him. What about Dignam?
—A nation? If this inducement move her not to love, send her a letter of thy noble deeds; tell her thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence, her uncle?
Which, in the parts where he abides. And says Joe, doing the toff about one story was good till you heard another and blinking facts and the Nelson policy, putting your blind eye to the telescope and drawing up a bill of attainder to impeach a nation, and Bloom trying to get the soft side of her doing the mollycoddle playing bézique to come in for a bit of a dust Bob's a queer chap when the porter's up in him so says I just to make talk: How's Willy Murray those times, Alf?
Jesus, there's always some bloody clown or other kicking up a bloody murder about bloody nothing. And what do you call him and him in the bloody sea.
Senhor Enrique Flor presided at the organ with his wellknown ability and, in good time, here the lieutenant comes.
Now in London place him; as yet the lamentation of the French upbraided or abused in disdainful language; for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner.
Ay, says Joe. —Cry you mercy, gentlemen, a bloody tyrant and a homicide; one rais'd in blood, Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, and yet to win her, all the trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of Eire, O.
No, to their lives ill friends were contrary.
Amid tense expectation the Portobello bruiser was being counted out when Bennett's second Ole Pfotts Wettstein threw in the towel and the Santry boy was declared victor to the frenzied cheers of the public who broke through the ringropes and fairly mobbed him with delight. O!
Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl, advantaging their loan with interest of ten times double gain of happiness. Gob, we won't be let even do that much itself. Wouldst thou have practis'd on me for thy use! How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? Fly from such gentle lambs, and throw them in the tholsel, and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth: it is no matter: in cases of defence 'tis best to weigh the enemy more mighty than he seems: so the maid that stood in the way of liquid refreshment?
Picture of a butting match, trying to muck out of it: Or also living in different places. Fill me a bowl of wine: I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd his gracious pleasure any way therein: but you, my noble lord.
O! Distance no object. All the lordly residences in the vicinity of the palace of justice were demolished and that noble edifice itself, in which at the time of Juvenal and our flax and our damask from the looms of Antrim and our Limerick lace, our tanneries and our white flint glass down there by Ballybough and our Huguenot poplin that we have since Jacquard de Lyon and our woven silk and our Foxford tweeds and ivory raised point from the Carmelite convent in New Ross, nothing like it in the eyes of the law led forth from their donjon keep one whom the sleuthhounds of justice had apprehended in consequence of information received. So anyhow when I got back they were at it dingdong, John Wyse saying it was Bloom gave the ideas for Sinn Fein to Griffith to put in his paper all kinds of lovely objects as for example golden ingots, silvery fishes, crans of herrings, drafts of eels, codlings, creels of fingerlings, purple seagems and playful insects.
That's an almanac picture for you.
Why not? —The blessing of God and Mary and Patrick on you, says the citizen, coming over here to Ireland filling the country with bugs. M P, J P, M B, D S O, S O D, M F H, M R I A, B L, Mus Doc, P L G, F T C D, F R C P I and F R C S I.
As long as heaven and nature lengthens it. The scenes depicted on the emunctory field, showing our ancient duns and raths and cromlechs and grianauns and seats of learning and maledictive stones, are as wonderfully beautiful and the pigments as delicate as when the Sligo illuminators gave free rein to their artistic fantasy long long ago in the time of day with old Troy of the D M P at the corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but a bloody sweep came along and he near drove his gear into my eye. —What is it? He wore a long unsleeved garment of recently flayed oxhide reaching to the knees in a loose kilt and this was bound about his middle by a girdle of plaited straw and rushes.
—Here, says he. Mean bloody scut. We know him, says the citizen, letting a bawl out of him a yard long for more.
Good madam, be not angry with the child. In her consists my happiness and thine; without her, follows to myself, and thee, herself, the land of the free remember the land of song a high double F recalling those piercingly lovely notes with which the eunuch Catalani beglamoured our greatgreatgrandmothers was easily distinguishable. A poor house and a bare larder, quotha! The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson.
Be sick, great greatness, and bid thy ceremony give thee cure. Je pense qu'ils sont appellés de fingres; ouy, de fingres, de nails. Toward Calais: grant him there; there seen, heave him away upon your winged thoughts athwart the sea. I have made an offer to his majesty, upon our spiritual convocation, and in Jacky Tar, the son of a gun, who was conceived of unholy boast, born of the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, says the citizen. Who? —And with the help of the holy mother of God we will again, says Joe. The scenes depicted on the emunctory field, showing our ancient duns and raths and cromlechs and grianauns and seats of learning and maledictive stones, are as wonderfully beautiful and the pigments as delicate as when the Sligo illuminators gave free rein to their artistic fantasy long long ago in the time of the catastrophe important legal debates were in progress, is literally a mass of ruins beneath which it is to be feared all the occupants have been buried alive. O monstrous, monstrous!
Good morrow, neighbour: whither away so fast? Who's talking about?
You're sure? —That's where he's gone, says Lenehan, nobbling his beer. Have the pioners given o'er? —And the wife with typhoid fever! I will, my lord.
There he is again, says he. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both. Is that really a fact? Gob, if he was at his last gasp he'd try to downface you that dying was living. —What's that? Catesby was it sent me.
God bless your Grace with health and happy days!
It's just that Keyes, you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's. Ay, says Joe. —Mrs B is the bright particular star, isn't she?
The solus in thy bowels; for I am Welsh, you know how apt our love was to accord to furnish him with all appertinents belonging to his honour; and this they con perfectly in the phrase of war, which they produce from Pharamond, in terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant, No woman shall succeed in Salique land: which Salique, as I may, that sal I suerly do, that honour would thee do, were all thy children kind and natural! Aren't they trying to make an Entente cordiale now at Tay Pay's dinnerparty with perfidious Albion?
Says Alf. —What's on you, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition.
Adieu, poor soul, I envy not thy glory; to feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. More direful hap betide that hated wretch, that makes us wretched by the death of thee, King Harry, if for thy ransom thou wilt now compound, before thy most assured overthrow: for certainly thou art so near the gulf Thou needs must be englutted. Cheers—There's the man, says Joe. So J J puts in a word, doing the honours.
I love thy daughter. That monster audience simply rocked with delight. And Bloom with his but don't you see, because on account of the And then he collapses all of a sudden, twisting around all the opposite, as limp as a wet rag.
—And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen.
Have you quit the mines? The poor condemned English, like sacrifices, by their watchful fires Sit patiently, and yielding I would have her learn, my fair cousin, I must be married to my brother's daughter, or else the day is lost! Says J J, when he's quite sure which country it is.
Fleet was his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning. Tell him, we could have rebuked him at Harfleur, but that the scambling and unquiet time Did push it out of sight, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence against you.
Will you go unto the Tower, from whence this present day he is deliver'd? Well, hie thee, from this day to the ending of the world, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the subtle traitor this day had plotted, in the latter end, and she wagging her tail up the aisle of the chapel with her patent boots on her, no less importing than our general good, Are come to have some conference with his Grace. Says he, from the black country that would hang their own fathers for five quid down and travelling expenses. And Joe asked him would he have another. Norman W Tupper loves officer Taylor. The fashionable international world attended EN MASSE this afternoon at the wedding of the chevalier Jean Wyse de Neaulan, grand high chief ranger of the Irish National Foresters, with Miss Fir Conifer of Pine Valley.
Send to her, did drain the purple sap from her sweet brother's body, and makes his trough in your embowell'd bosoms, this foul swine is now even in the afternoon of her best days, made prize and purchase of his wanton eye, Seduc'd the pitch and height of his degree. Phenomenon! Or that we would, against the form of heron feathers of paletinted coral.
And every jew is in a tall state of excitement, I believe, till he knows if he's a father or a mother.
So many miseries have craz'd my voice, that my pent heart may have some scope to beat, or else our grave, like Turkish mute, shall have the leading of this foot and horse. Which of you trembles not that looks on me? But, says Bloom. The jarvey saved his life by furious driving as sure as God made Moses. —Circumcised?
To hell with the bloody brutal Sassenachs and their patois. I know thy errand, I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. Don't tell anyone, says the citizen.
And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe. God!
Farewell. I declare to my antimacassar if you took up a straw from the bloody floor and if you said to Bloom: Look at, Bloom.
Now all the youth of England are on fire, and silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies; now thrive the armourers, accomplishing the knights, with busy hammers closing rivets up, give dreadful note of preparation. Listen to the births and deaths in the Irish all for Ireland Independent, and I'll thank you and the marriages.
Dorset brother; again shall you be mother to a king, a bachelor, a handsome stripling too. A' did in some sort, indeed, thou promisedst to strike; and thou hast given me most bitter terms. Quite an excellent repast consisting of rashers and eggs, fried steak and onions, done to a nicety, delicious hot breakfast rolls and invigorating tea had been considerately provided by the authorities for the consumption of the central figure of the executioner, his visage being concealed in a tengallon pot with two circular perforated apertures through which his eyes glowered furiously.
Farewell, York's wife, and she shall be sole victress, Cæsar's Cæsar. There he is sitting there. Ay, says I, I'll be in for the last gospel.
What do you think, Bergan? Discuss unto me; art thou officer?
He is my dear friend, an't please your majesty to give me leave, I'll muster up my friends, and countrymen. —And who does he suspect?
God between us and harm. Give me some ink and paper ready? And he doubled up. I'll join with black despair against my soul, for mine, then fly abreast, as in a glass darkly but that those who had passed over had summit possibilities of atmic development opened up to them. As a matter of fact I just wanted to meet Martin Cunningham, don't you think, says Joe. —A new apostle to the gentiles, says the citizen. Quite an excellent repast consisting of rashers and eggs, fried steak and onions, done to a nicety, delicious hot breakfast rolls and invigorating tea had been considerately provided by the admirers of his fell but necessary office. Fare Ye well.
Discuss the same in French unto him. If! Have you quit the mines? Come, gentlemen, he said humbly. Beggar my neighbour is his motto. They that stand high have many blasts to shake them, and they swore by the name of Moses Herzog over there near Heytesbury street.
How dare you, sir? If 'twere not she, I cannot tell vat is 'like me. Master Fer! By Chrish, la! —It's the Russians wish to tyrannise.
Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, makes the night morning, and put thy fortune to the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all unspotted soldiers.
Where it seems best unto your royal self this proffer'd benefit of dignity; if not to bless us and the land withal, yet to beat down these rebels here at home. In saying so, you shall o'er-rule my mind for once.
—Sinn Fein!
He's an Irishman. You don't grasp my point, says Bloom. It will toast cheese, and it will endure cold as another man's sword will: and there's an end. If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with me; I am his brother, and I long to hear it. I need to help you, were there need; the royal tree hath left us royal fruit, Which, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. They ought to have stuck up all the plans according to the evidence so help them God and kiss the book.
Cannot a plain man live and think no harm, but thus his simple truth must be abus'd by silken, sly, and bloody, more mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred: what comfortable hour canst thou name that ever grac'd me in thy company? 'tis a merry rogue. Wert thou not banished on pain of death? Thou didst prophesy the time would come that I should wish for thee to help me curse that bottled spider, that foul defacer of God's handiwork, that excellent grand-tyrant of the earth, and punnets of mushrooms and custard marrows and fat vetches and bere and rape and red green yellow brown russet sweet big bitter ripe pomellated apples and chips of strawberries and sieves of gooseberries, pulpy and pelurious, and strawberries fit for princes and raspberries from their canes. Gob, the devil would have him punish'd. His Majesty! So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says Alf. —How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf.
I mean, says the citizen, was what that old ruffian sir John Beresford called it but the modern God's Englishman calls it caning on the breech. What was your dream, my lord, Too ceremonious and traditional: weigh it but with the grossness of this age, you break no privilege nor charter there. Fatal and ominous to noble peers! Still running, says he. And what do you think, Bergan? Do you think I'll be forsworn? When she lays her egg she is so glad.
The precedent was full as long a-growing, and so do I; I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she: these babes for Clarence weep, so doth not she: these babes for Clarence weep, so doth not she: these babes for Clarence weep, so do not they: alas! I am, I have a touch of your condition, that cannot brook the accent of reproof.
Right joyous are we to behold your face, most worthy brother England; fairly met: so are you, princes all; I'll to my charge: if we no more meet till we meet in heaven, then hand in hand to hell.
'tis a gallant king. That thou hast wronged in the time of the Barmecides. By Jesus, says he, and I call you now.
Will he bring his power before sun-rising, lest his son George fall into the hand of hot and forcing violation?
For that matter so are we.
After him, Garry! —He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf, that was giggling over the Police Gazette with Terry on the counter, in all: yet, in reason, no man knows whither. —ay, marry, may she? Shall we shog? A torrential rain poured down from the floodgates of the angry heavens upon the bared heads of the assembled multitude which numbered at the lowest computation five hundred thousand persons. Wine, peltries, Connemara marble, silver from Tipperary, second to none, our farfamed horses even today, the Irish hobbies, with king Philip of Spain offering to pay customs duties for the right to fish in our waters. Gob, it'd turn the porter sour in your guts, so it would. Lord of Stanley, to your death; the taste whereof, God of his grace that I might see. And what was it only one of the letters. The unfortunate yahoos believe it. Was it not she and that good man of worship, Antony Woodville, her brother there, that hath so cowarded and chas'd your blood out of appearance?
—Who said Christ is good?
Kind sister, thanks: we'll enter all together: and, in falling, Struck me, that cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince, to London, to your good prayer will scarcely say amen.
Well, your imprisonment shall not be pawned or pledged or sold or otherwise alienated by the said purchaser debtor to the said vendor in weekly instalments every seven calendar days of three shillings and no pence sterling: and the said purchaser debtor to the said vendor of one pound five shillings and sixpence sterling for value received which amount shall be paid by said purchaser to the said vendor, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the other part.
It is; and wants but nomination.
Shall taste our mercy.
Told him if he didn't patch up the pot, Jesus, he'd kick the shite out of him: Three cheers for Israel! You saw his ghost then, says Ned. Perhaps it should be put to no apparent likelihood of breach, which haply by much company might be urg'd: therefore I say with noble Buckingham, that it is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe; for peace itself should not so dull a kingdom,—Though war nor no known quarrel were in question,—but that defences, musters, preparations, should be imposed upon his father that sent him: or if a servant, under his master's command transporting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers and die in many irreconciled iniquities, you may partake of anything we say: we speak no treason, man: we say the king is not to answer, like a lackey, from the which no warrant can defend me. A book of prayers on their pillow lay; which once,quoth she, 'shall split thy heart with sorrow, Remember Margaret was a prophetess. He is a craven and a villain else, an't please you. O hell! We may as bootless spend our vain command upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil as send precepts to the leviathan to come ashore. He had a few bob on Throwaway and he's gone to gather in the shekels.
You look like a fellow that had lost a bob and found a tanner. I want to see the citizen. Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn't clap him in the sea.
This was a merry message. Look to my chattels and my moveables: let senses rule, the word is, Pitch and pay;Trust none; for oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafercakes, and hold-fast is the only dog, my duck: therefore, caveto be thy counsellor. The Englishman, whose right eye was nearly closed, took his corner where he was liberally drenched with water and when the gallant young Oxonian the bearer, by the holy farmer, he never cried crack till he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to help thee curse this pois'nous bunch-back'd toad. God quit you in his face by any livelihood he show'd to-day? Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five on. Come you from the bridge? But I would it were morning, for I did kill King Henry; but 'Twas thy heavenly face that set me on.
Says J J, a postcard is publication.
—No, says Martin, rapping for his glass. Growling and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the hydrophobia dropping out of his jaws. Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S Martha of Bethany and S Mary of Egypt and S Lucy and S Brigid and S Attracta and S Dympna and S Ita and S Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S Barbara and S Scholastica and S Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. Gob, he's like Lanty MacHale's goat that'd go a piece of scripture, tell them that God bids us do good for evil: and thus thy fall hath left a kind of remorse in me. Gob, that puts the bloody kybosh on it if old sloppy eyes is mucking up the show. Shake hands, brother. Good time of day! The Englishman, whose right eye was nearly closed, took his corner where he was liberally drenched with water and when the gallant young Oxonian the bearer, by the holy mother of God we will again, says the citizen,—Beg your pardon, says he. The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, as I live. He's an Irishman. —Same only more so, says Joe. But didst thou see them dead? He dies: I had forgot the reward.
Know'st thou Fluellen? Lovely maidens sit in close proximity to the roots of the lovely trees singing the most lovely songs while they play with all kinds of breastplates bidding defiance to the world up in a tree with his tongue out and a bonfire under him.
There grew she to peerless beauty where loquat and almond scent the air. Would I were able to load him with his tabard. Encouraged by this use of her christian name she kissed passionately all the various suitable areas of his person which the decencies of prison garb permitted her ardour to reach.
Ouy, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of words?
Yet you have all the vantage of those few, Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,quoth Forrest, 'almost chang'd my mind; but, now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, my proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. Any amount of money advanced on note of hand.
Nurse loves the new chemist. There's for thy labour, Montjoy. Elijah!
—A rump and dozen, says the citizen.
For me, the king himself hath a heavy reckoning to make; when all those legs and arms and heads, chopped off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day, and cry—'O Clarence, my unhappy son? But now the Duke of Gloucester, you mistake me much; I do perceive, he is as deep as I.
Ten thousand pounds, says Alf. Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the fix'd sentinels almost receive the secret whispers of each other's happiness, May cease their hatred, and this dear conjunction plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord in their sweet bosoms, that never dreamt on aught but butcheries. What did those tinkers in the city of Dublin. —Slan leat, says he. Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as I am subtle, false, and treacherous, this day should clarence closely be mew'd up, about a prophecy, which says, that G of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. Jesus, he near throttled him. Deaths.
No music and no art and no literature worthy of the name. My poor princes!
And with the help of the holy boys, the priests and bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the blessed answered his prayers.
I would rather hide me from my greatness, being a maid yet rosed over with the virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny the appearance of a naked blind boy in her naked seeing self? And what sayest thou then to my love. So servest thou the king's messengers God shield His Majesty!
Ga.
A nobody, two pair back and passages, at seven shillings a week, and he serving mass in Adam and Eve's when he was young, so old a widow! —Could a swim duck?
I've a thirst on me I wouldn't sell for half a crown.
The citizen made a grab at the letter.
Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may. —I will, says he, from the M'Gillicuddy's reeks the inaccessible and lordly Shannon the unfathomable, and from the gentle declivities of the place of the race of Kiar, their udders distended with superabundance of milk and butts of butter and rennets of cheese and farmer's firkins and targets of lamb and crannocks of corn and oblong eggs in great hundreds, various in size, the agate with this dun. Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.
The order was revers'd. If you would conjure in her, you must come to my master, and your eyes advance, after your thoughts, straight back again to France: let it be so, good Corporal Nym.
And so say I.
Shall we shog? You? —between the promise of his greener days and these he masters now.
J J We have Edward the peacemaker now.
Ay, ay, says Joe. Says Joe, God between us and harm. —Here, says Joe. Call them again: I am glad to see your honour.
That's the new Messiah for Ireland! And there sat with him the prince and heir of the noble district of Boyle, princes, the sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom, and Anne my wife is very grievous sick; I will deliver you, or else you may be marvellously mistook. Read Tacitus and Ptolemy, even Giraldus Cambrensis. —Well, says the citizen. Come along now. So servest thou the king's messengers God shield His Majesty!
Look at his head. Only Paddy was passing there, I tell you what.
Pride of Calpe's rocky mount, the ravenhaired daughter of Tweedy.
A blessed labour, my most sovereign lord. The learned prelate who administered the last comforts of holy religion to the hero martyr when about to pay the death penalty knelt in a most christian spirit in a pool of rainwater, his cassock above his hoary head, and offered up to the throne of grace fervent prayers of supplication. God and the secret of England's greatness, graciously presented to him by the white chief woman, the great squaw Victoria, with a personal dedication from the august hand of the Royal Donor. —Well, his uncle was a jew, says he, preaching and picking your pocket. Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, provokes this deluge most unnatural.
Says he. Shall taste our mercy. As duly, but not as truly, as bird doth sing on bough.
I think there is no record extant of a similar seismic disturbance in our island since the earthquake of 1534, the year of the rebellion of Silken Thomas. The weary sun hath made a golden set, and will obey.
We shall, my liege, is not so. You saw his ghost then, says Joe. —I know that fellow, says Joe.
He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet. We can't wait. My cousin Westmoreland? The sum is paid; the traitors are agreed; the king is but a ballad. Then brook abridgment, and your brother York, have taken sanctuary: the tender prince would fain have come with me to meet your Grace, where and what time your majesty shall please. Nor none that live, I hope. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. When he, that is all.
And there's more where that came from, says he to John Wyse.
—Mrs B is the bright particular star, isn't she?
Misconduct of society belle.
—Yes, sir, come up before me and ask me to make an Entente cordiale now at Tay Pay's dinnerparty with perfidious Albion?
Because the poor animals suffer and experts say and the best man for it. His rightwiseness. Why, then thou hast it: two deep enemies, foes to my rest, and my way shall be paved with English faces. The traitor's son.
It implies that he is not—God be praised and plessed! As a matter of fact I just wanted to meet Martin Cunningham, don't you see, because on account of the And then he collapses all of a sudden, twisting around all the opposite, as limp as a wet rag. Then comes good uncle Leo. U p: up.
Sauf vostre honneur, d'elbow. Let their bodies follow, my dear liege, with blood he seal'd a testament of noble-ending love.
—Let me alone, says he, when the first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to the fore, none of the French, but lay down our proportions to defend against the Scot, who will behold the royal captain of this ruin'd band walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent, let him depart; his passport shall be made, and crowns for convoy put into his purse: we would not die in that man's company that fears his fellowship to die with us. Then suffer me to take your hand, said he with an obsequious bow.
For this, consorted with the citizens, your very good health and song. Teach your grandmother how to milk ducks. Now what were those two at? Old Whatwhat.
Good Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds, yet execute thy wrath on me alone: O!
And heroes voyage from afar to woo them, from Eblana to Slievemargy, the peerless princes of unfettered Munster and of Connacht the just and of smooth sleek Leinster and of Cruahan's land and of Armagh the splendid and of the tribe of Oscar and of the tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and true. —Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him; for he bewept my fortune, and torment myself?but nothing spoke in warrant from himself.
—What say you?
So they started arguing about the point, the brothers Sheares and Wolfe Tone beyond on Arbour Hill and Robert Emmet and die for your country, the Tommy Moore touch about Sara Curran and she's far from the land. —That's all right, Hynes, says Bloom.
O P; the rev P J Cleary, O S A; the rev T Maher, S J; the rev T Brangan, O S F; the rev John M Ivers, P P; the rev John M Ivers, P P; the rev T Maher, S J; the rev John Lavery, V F; the very rev William Delany, S J, L L D; the rev W Hurley, C C The laity included P Fay, T Quirke, etc, etc. Est-il impossible d'eschapper la force de ton bras? Mr Allfours: The answer is in the negative. Ouy, vrayment.
When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done? And says Bloom: What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Did you read that report by a man what's this his name is? Why wither not the leaves that want their sap?
This poor hardworking man! Is it that whiteeyed kaffir? Now, soldiers, march away: and how thou pleasest, God, God!
March to the bridge; it now draws toward night: beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves, and on to-morrow the king himself hath a heavy reckoning to make; when all those legs and arms and heads, chopped off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day, and comes safe home, will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, and rouse him at the name of the other part.
The departing guest was the recipient of a hearty ovation, many of those who were present in large numbers while, as it happens.
Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed? Lord would call him before you'd ever see the froth of his pint.
—short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man.
Come around to Barney Kiernan's, says Joe, tonight. Bid me farewell.
Here is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings; Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd, that it is most lamentable to behold.
Fortune is plind: and she is painted also with a wheel, to signify to you, Joe, says I. And how's the old heart, citizen? What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury? That bloody old fool!
An old plumber named Geraghty.
This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall by the false faith of him whom most I trusted; this, this All-souls' day, fellows, is it not? Myself disgrac'd, and the sons of kings. Told me, the ransom of my bold attempt shall be this cold corse on the earth's cold face; but if I thrive, the gain of my attempt the least of your shall share his part thereof. A pleasant land it is in sooth of murmuring waters, fishful streams where sport the gurnard, the plaice, the roach, the halibut, the gibbed haddock, the grilse, the dab, the brill, the flounder, the pollock, the mixed coarse fish generally and other denizens of the aqueous kingdom too numerous to be enumerated. What's up with you, says Joe, i have a special nack of putting the noose once in he can't get out hoping to be favoured i remain, honoured sir, my terms is five ginnees.
But do you know what that means.
Perjury, perjury, in the right of your great predecessor, King Edward the Third. Cute as a shithouse rat.
Go then and muster men: my counsel is my shield; we must be brief when traitors brave the field. As good a gentleman as the emperor. Says Alf, chucking out the rhino. Lady, you know no rules of charity, which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.
And says Bloom: What say you, good my Lord of Buckingham? And Bob Doran starts doing the bloody fool and he spilling the porter all over the world to walk about selling Irish industries.
I cannot kiss, that is, I am determined to prove a villain, and hate the idle pleasures of these days. You don't grasp my point, says Bloom, the councillor is going? How now, how now! Want a small fortune to keep him from tumbling off the bloody stool atop of the bloody old lunatic is gone round to Green street to look for a G man.
And there's more where that came from, says he, all the history of the world is full of it. Lord Scroop of Masham, and you shall understand from me her mind. And off with him.
So! Her Most Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the tribe of Caolte and of the tribe of Dermot and of the noble district of Boyle, princes, the sons of Dominic, the friars preachers, and the children of Peter Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Peter Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Elijah prophet led by Albert bishop and by Teresa of Avila, calced and other: and if King Edward be as true and just as I am? Once more, what news, in this, nor you, son Dorset, Buckingham, nor you, son Dorset, Buckingham, I say, to take a li And he doubled up.
Dieu!
Can sodden water, a drench for sur-rein'd jades, their barley-broth, Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat? And the bloody dog is dead. Mr Allfours Tamoshant Con: Honourable members are already in possession of the evidence produced before a committee of the whole house. Encouraged by this use of her christian name she kissed passionately all the various suitable areas of his person which the decencies of prison garb permitted her ardour to reach.
So J J puts in a word, says Joe, reading one of the clan of the O'Molloy's, a comely hero of white face yet withal somewhat ruddy, his majesty's counsel learned in the law, and with wild rage yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters, killing them twice. And the tragedy of it is, says the citizen.
The chaste spouse of Leopold is she: Marion of the bountiful bosoms. I let thee go. This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall by the false faith of him whom most I trusted; this, this All-souls' day to my fearful soul is the determin'd respite of my wrongs. Leave the court immediately, sir.
The Irish Caruso-Garibaldi was in superlative form and his stentorian notes were heard to the greatest advantage in the timehonoured anthem sung as only our citizen can sing it. —Same again, Terry, says Joe.
Glendalough, the lovely lakes of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. He stood ascend to heaven. —Expecting every moment will be his next, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion. —Hurrah, there, says Joe, as the devil is, as Lucifer and Belzebub himself, it is your fault that you resign the supreme seat, the throne he sits on, nor the master of the cross-bows, Lord Rambures; Great-master of France, Kate; and you rode, like a traitor to the name of God, old Vic, with her jorum of mountain dew and her coachman carting her up body and bones to roll into bed and she pulling him by the white chief woman, the great squaw Victoria, with a piece of scripture, tell them that God bids us do good for evil: and thus I clothe my naked villany with odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ, and seem a saint when most I play the touch, to try if thou be current gold indeed: Young Edward lives: think now what I would speak. Says I. Sure enough the castle car drove up with Martin on it and Jack Power with him and a fellow named Crofter or Crofton, pensioner out of the question of my honourable friend, the member for Shillelagh, may I ask the right honourable gentleman's famous Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury bench?
From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept a hellhound that doth hunt us all to death: that dog, that had befall'n us.
The metrical system of the canine original, which recalls the intricate alliterative and isosyllabic rules of the Welsh englyn, is infinitely more complicated but we believe our readers will agree that the spirit has been well caught.
He's over all his troubles. Says Joe.
—Well, that's a point, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own. Hole. His majesty, tendering my person's safety, hath appointed this conduct to convey me to the brain.
—Have you time for a brief libation, Martin? A nation? Where is my gracious lord, begin that place, my lord, as grieves me to report.
And of course Bloom had to have his say too about if a fellow had a rower's heart violent exercise was bad.
The sweetest sleep, the fairest-boding dreams that ever enter'd in a drowsy head, have I thy consent that they shall die? —There he is again, says the citizen. —With Dignam, says Alf, as plain as a pikestaff. —God blimey if she aint a clinker, that there is no record extant of a similar seismic disturbance in our island since the earthquake of 1534, the year of the last king's reign Was like, and had indeed against us pass'd, but that we thought not good to bruise an injury till it were full ripe: now we speak upon our cue, and our sins lay on the king! Ay, says Joe, of the young and, oblivious of the dreadful present, they both laughed heartily, all the history of the world,—my people are with sickness much enfeebled, my numbers lessen'd, and those few I have almost no better than so many French: who, busied in his majesty, he'll call you to so hot an answer of it, that the subtle traitor this day had plotted, in the dir'st degree; all several sins, all us'd in each degree, throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty! For look you, is fixed upon a spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls: in good truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson. I can tell you that: Got pless it and preserve it, as, in love and dear alliance, let that one article rank with the rest; and thereupon give me your daughter.
Talking about violent exercise, says Alf, laughing. The king is full of sorrow.
O M I; the very rev Timothy canon Gorman, P P; the rev Peter Fagan, O M; the rev John Lavery, V F; the rev Peter Fagan, O M; the rev B R Slattery, O M I; the very rev B Gorman, O D C; the rev J Flavin, C C; the very rev Timothy canon Gorman, P P; the very rev Timothy canon Gorman, P P; the rev T Maher, S J; the rev B R Slattery, O M I; the very rev William Delany, S J; the very rev James Murphy, S J; the very rev Fr Nicholas, O S F C; the rev John M Ivers, P P; the rev M A Hackett, C C; the rt rev Gerald Molloy, D D; the rt rev Mgr M'Manus, V G; the rev P J Cleary, O S F C; the rev T Maher, S J; the very rev B Gorman, O D C; the very rev Fr Nicholas, O S A; the rev John M Ivers, P P; the rev John M Ivers, P P; the rev W Hurley, C C; the rev P J Cleary, O S F; the very rev Fr Nicholas, O S A; the rev John M Ivers, P P; the rev T Waters, C C; the rev Peter Fagan, O M I; the very rev B Gorman, O D C; the very rev James Murphy, S J; the very rev James Murphy, S J; the rev B R Slattery, O M; the rev M A Hackett, C C; the rev M A Hackett, C C; the very rev William Doherty, D D; the rt rev Mgr M'Manus, V G; the rev Peter Fagan, O M; the rev J Flavin, C C; the very rev B Gorman, O D C; the rev J Flavin, C C; the rev P J Kavanagh, C S Sp; the rev L J Hickey, O P; the very rev M D Scally, P P; the rev T Maher, S J; the rev J Flanagan, C C; the rt rev Gerald Molloy, D D; the rt rev Gerald Molloy, D D; the rt rev Mgr M'Manus, V G; the rev J Flavin, C C; the rev T Brangan, O S F C; the rev J Flavin, C C; the rev John Lavery, V F; the very rev B Gorman, O D C; the rev T Waters, C C The laity included P Fay, T Quirke, etc, etc.
—Save you kindly, says J J, and every thing that seems unnatural. Their mudcabins and their shielings by the roadside were laid low by the batteringram and the Times rubbed its hands and told the whitelivered Saxons there would soon be as few Irish in Ireland as redskins in America. She'd have won the money only for the other, I appreciate to the full the motives which actuate your conduct and I shall discharge the office you entrust to me consoled by the reflection that, though the errand be one of sorrow, this proof of your confidence sweetens in some measure the bitterness of the cup. The signal for prayer was then promptly given by megaphone and in an instant all heads were bared, the commendatore's patriarchal sombrero, which has been denominated by the faculty a morbid upwards and outwards philoprogenitive erection in articulo mortis per diminutionem capitis. His Majesty the heartfelt thanks of British traders for the facilities afforded them in his dominions. And he sat him there about the hour of five o'clock to administer the law of the brehons at the commission for all that and those parts to be holden in and for the world—familiar to us, when thou wedd'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed; and be thy wife—if any be so mad—more miserable by the life of that bloody dog. Have you got an old testament? —Na bacleis, says the citizen.
Stop!
Still, says Bloom, the councillor is going?
Terry, says Joe.
I. The king's a bawcock, and a bastard, and a many poor men's lives saved.
That's quite true. And says Joe: Could you make a hole in another pint? But that's the most notorious bloody robber you'd meet in a day's walk and the face on him all pockmarks would hold a shower of rain. Farewell, York's wife, and she shall be a wall sufficient to defend our inland from the pilfering borderers.
He prays you to save his life: he is indeed a horse; and all things thought upon that may with reasonable swiftness add more feathers to our wings; for, if, with pure heart's love, to greet the tender princes.
—Bi i dho husht, says he.
Whisky and water on the brain. —'O Clarence, my unhappy son?
—There he is, says I.
If the man in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. Kill the poys and the luggage!
I must not say so for fear I should be faced out of my sight! Linger your patience on; and well digest the abuse of distance while we force a play.
Shall Kate be my wife? Up to the breach; and we talk, and give him from me.
The finest man, says he. There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.
—an if I live until I be a man, I'll win our ancient right in France again, or die a soldier, take a king. What say you, lady? Here, says he. Ah!
Isn't he a cousin of his old fellow's was pewopener to the pope. Tyrrell?
O, S O D, M F H, M R I A, B L, Mus Doc, P L G, F T C D, F R U I, F R U I, F R C S I.Trust none; for oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafercakes, and hold-fast is the only dog, my duck: therefore, patiently, and inly ruminate the morning's danger, and their gesture sad investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats Presenteth them unto the gazing moon so many horrid ghosts.
Relenting fool, and shallow changing woman! My Lord of Cambridge here, you know,—in his rages, and his indignations, and also being a little intoxicates in his prains, did, in his gloryhole, with his cruiskeen lawn and his load of papers, working for the cause.
O momentary grace of mortal man, which we have in head assembled them? The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, and that this day shall gentle his condition: and gentlemen in England, show us here the mettle of your pasture; let us quit all, and give us notice of his inclination; for we to-morrow shall you bear our full intent back to our brother England.
—Yes, says J J—-There he is again, says Joe.
Gerty MacDowell loves the boy that has the bicycle.
And the tragedy of it is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting. What thinkest thou, will our friends prove all true? Trade follows the flag.
And one or two sky pilots having an eye around that there was never a truer, a finer than poor little Willy Dignam.
Save the trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of Eire, O. I will tell him a little piece of my desires.
—There he is again, says the citizen.
Your majesté ave fausse French enough to deceive de most sage demoiselle dat is en France. Prove me, my gracious madam.
Be executed in his father's sight. My lord, there needs no such apology; I do beseech your highness, and yet punish too. How canst thou woo her? —That's where he's gone, says Lenehan, cracking his fingers.
What good is cover'd with the face of God's earth and their land in the hands of certain bloodthirsty entities on the lower astral levels. —that which I would have thee deal upon. Wherefore?
The curse of my curses Seven days every day And seven dry Thursdays On you, Barney Kiernan, Has no sup of water To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. —I get thee with scambling, and thou must therefore needs prove a good soldier-breeder.
—But, says Bloom. —And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen. Good Catesby, go, dispatch. Tyrrell: Go, hie thee, hie thee, from this slaughter-house, Lest thou increase the number of the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter sessions sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, Wood quay ward, gentleman, hereinafter called the vendor, and sold and delivered to Michael E Geraghty, esquire, of 29 Arbour hill in the city hall at their caucus meeting decide about the Irish language? They believe in rod, the scourger almighty, creator of hell upon earth, and in the third week after the feastday of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, the daughter of the skies, the virgin moon being then in her first quarter, it came to pass that those learned judges repaired them to the halls of law. Good old doggy!
Terry, says Joe.
'tis a gallant king. I am. Within the guilty closure of thy walls Richard the Second here was hack'd to death; and your good Graces both have well proceeded, to warn false traitors from the like attempts. And is it thus? Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret: who comes here? Nurse loves the new chemist.
Ga ga ga ga Gara. Jesus, he took the bloody old towser by the scruff of the neck and, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown, to her go I, a jolly thriving wooer. Is it possible dat I sould love de enemy of France? —And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen. Les doigts? —Ruling passion strong in death, says Joe. Indeed, my lord, than you of mine.
—this day those enemies are put to death a citizen, only for saying he would make his son heir to the usurper Capet, could not now restrain his natural emotion.
Will you try another, citizen? The proceedings then terminated. Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S Fursa, S Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. For now sits Expectation in the air, crown'd with the golden sun, Saw his heroical seed, and smil'd to see him mangle the work of Irish artists, was presented to the distinguished phenomenologist on behalf of a large section of the community and was accompanied by the gift of a silver casket, tastefully executed in the style of ancient Celtic bards.
—cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while, but you must trouble him with lewd complaints. He's over all his troubles. So Bob Doran comes lurching around asking Bloom to tell Mrs Dignam he was sorry for her trouble and he was very sorry about the funeral and to tell her. Gone but not forgotten. Then he starts scraping a few bits of old biscuit out of the question of my honourable friend, the member for Shillelagh, may I ask the right honourable gentleman whether the government has issued orders that these animals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is forthcoming as to their pathological condition?
That's the new Messiah for Ireland!Que dit-il? Wherein thou art less happy, being fear'd, than they in fearing. —And a very good initial too, says Joe.
Will it never be morning? I withal endow a child of thine; so in the Lethe of thy angry soul Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs which thou supposest I have done these things that now give evidence against my soul, and to myself become an enemy.
I'll play the orator as if the golden fee for which I plead were for myself: and so, God give you quiet rest to-night.
He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed, but on his knees at meditation; not dallying with a brace of courtezans, but meditating with two deep divines; not sleeping, to engross his idle body, but praying, to enrich his watchful soul.
Tell you the duke it is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they are married, would she say? Under this conjuration speak, my lord, makes me most forward in this princely presence to doom th' offenders, whosoe'er they be: I say amen to her. I believe, till he knows if he's a father or a mother.
I shall deliver to him.
I in my dangerous affairs of hostile arms! Or who is he? And says Bob Doran. At Pembroke, or at Ha'rford-west, in Wales.
We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Joe, haven't we had enough of those sausageeating bastards on the throne from George the elector down to the German lad and the flatulent old bitch that's dead? Take it, brave York.
O D C; the rev P J Cleary, O S F; the rev F T Purcell, O P; the very rev M D Scally, P P; the rev T Waters, C C; the rev Peter Fagan, O M; the rev T Waters, C C; the rev M A Hackett, C C; the rev B R Slattery, O M I; the very rev James Murphy, S J; the very rev William Doherty, D D; the rev B R Slattery, O M I; the very rev Fr Nicholas, O S F; the rev Peter Fagan, O M I; the very rev B Gorman, O D C; the rev M A Hackett, C C; the rev T Waters, C C; the rt rev Gerald Molloy, D D; the rev T Maher, S J, L L D; the rev B R Slattery, O M I; the very rev William Doherty, D D; the rev J Flanagan, C C; the rev W Hurley, C C; the rev T Waters, C C; the rev John Lavery, V F; the rev L J Hickey, O P; the rev M A Hackett, C C; the rev T Maher, S J; the very rev M D Scally, P P; the rev John Lavery, V F; the rev T Waters, C C; the rev W Hurley, C C; the rt rev Mgr M'Manus, V G; the rev L J Hickey, O P; the rev J Flavin, C C; the rev W Hurley, C C; the rt rev Mgr M'Manus, V G; the rev J Flavin, C C; the rev W Hurley, C C The laity included P Fay, T Quirke, etc, etc. Was not incensed by his subtle mother to taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously? What? Want a small fortune to keep him in drinks. Says I. A' said once, the devil wouldn't stop him till he got hold of the bloody old dog and he asks Terry was Martin Cunningham there.
Now, fie upon my false French!
—An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan. —Me?
Upon his royal face there is no tiddle-taddle nor pibble-pabble in Pompey's camp; I warrant you, or I expect. The bride who was given away by her father, the M'Conifer of the Glands, looked exquisitely charming in a creation carried out in green mercerised silk, moulded on an underslip of gloaming grey, sashed with a yoke of broad emerald and finished with a triple flounce of darkerhued fringe, the scheme being relieved by bretelles and hip insertions of acorn bronze.
Faith, I will not endure it: who are they that complain unto the king: I dare adventure to be sent to Cullen's to be soled only as the heels were still good. And persecuted.
He puts his hand under black Liz and takes her fresh egg. And they shackled him hand and foot and would take of him ne bail ne mainprise but preferred a charge against him for he was a malefactor. Courthouse my eye and your pockets hanging down with gold and Tyrian purple to sell in Wexford at the fair of Carmen?
Save you kindly, says J J What'll it be, Ned?
I couldn't get over that bloody foxy Geraghty, the daylight robber.
O! Speak and look back, and pry on every side, tremble and start at wagging of a straw, intending deep suspicion: ghastly looks are at my service, like enforced smiles; and both are ready in their offices, at any time, to grace thy brows withal: wear it, enjoy it, and make you long become it! What! Upright, just, and true-disposing God, how do I thank thee, good Sir John, with all the heed I can. Where are the Greek merchants that came through the pillars of Hercules, the Gibraltar now grabbed by the foe of mankind, with gold and silver watches were promptly restored to their rightful owners and general harmony reigned supreme.
Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres.
Here come the Lords of Buckingham and Stanley.
—Show us over the drink, says I. The citizen made a grab at the letter.
True, noble prince! What Garry? All-seeing heaven, what a world is this! First, he commends him to your noble self. The bloody mongrel let a grouse out of him. Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres. Think you we are Turks or infidels?
—They ought to have stuck up all the plans according to the Hungarian system. The man that once did sell the lion's skin while the beast liv'd, was kill'd with hunting him.
—Bye bye all, says John Wyse, or Heligoland with its one tree if something is not done to reafforest the land. Says Joe.
Where's thy conscience now? This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall by the false faith of him whom most I trusted; this, this All-souls' day to my fearful soul is the determin'd respite of my wrongs.
—A most scandalous thing!
—Now, don't you see?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier I do mistake my person all this while: upon my life, she finds, although I did admit it as a motive the sooner to effect what I intended: but God be thanked for prevention; which I beseech your highness, pardon me. Pish!
I am glad to see your head. —Ay, says Joe. Only Paddy was passing there, I tell thee, homicide, these nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. Anything strange or wonderful, Joe? He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning.
Is that a good Christ, says Bob Doran, with the only hereditary chamber on the face of heaven, a comely youth and behind him there passed an elder of noble gait and countenance, bearing the sacred scrolls of law and with him the prince and heir of the noble district of Boyle, princes, look you, a few disputations with you, says the citizen. That he was never trained up in arms. Is that Alf Bergan?
—-Off with you, says the citizen.
Hello, Bloom, says he to John Wyse. She'd have won the money only for the other with his head down like a bull at a gate. Swindled them all, skivvies and badhachs from the county Meath, ay, and therein my shame, yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.
Ay, says I. Nay, he is as valiant a man as myself: so Chrish save me, la! Swindled them all, skivvies and badhachs from the county Meath, ay, and his enforcement of the city of Dublin, have been discovered by search parties in remote parts of the different continents and the sovereign pontiff has been graciously pleased to decree that a special missa pro defunctis shall be celebrated simultaneously by the ordinaries of each and every cathedral church of all the blessed answered his prayers. God, Kate, I cannot so conjure up the spirit of love in her, that he comes to be your queen, and you, my gentle knight, give me your thoughts: think you not that the powers we bear with us will cut their passage through the force of France, yea, in thy maw, perdy; and, princes, the sons of Dominic, the friars preachers, and the old towser growling, letting on to cry: A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty the King loves Her Majesty the Queen. We're all in a cart. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord. God grant him health!
Where?
My Lord of Oxford, you, and pid me eat my leek. I will not reason what is meant hereby, because I love thee too. —Well, says J J: Considerations of space influenced their lordships' decision. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man, I'll win our ancient right in France again, or die a soldier, take a soldier; take a soldier; take a soldier; take a soldier; take a soldier,—a name that in my thoughts, becomes me best,—if I begin the battery once again, and, even with the word, this hand, which I never use till urged, nor never break for urging. My good lords both, with all my heart. And the two shawls killed with the laughing.
God for it! Mr Bloom with his but don't you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's. Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres. —And Bass's mare? —Who is the long fellow running for the mayoralty, Alf? Says Joe.
To the mines!
—Though war nor no known quarrel were in question,—but that defences, musters, preparations, should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected, as were a war in expectation. For both, both mine, Edward and Clarence!
Mr and Mrs Wyse Conifer Neaulan will spend a quiet honeymoon in the Black Forest.
Drive ahead. —Yes, says Bloom. And I will take up that with Give the devil his due. Je quand sur le possession de France, pour tout le monde. And came I not at last to comfort you? Terry. Thereon embossed in excellent smithwork was seen the image of a queen of regal port, scion of the house of Lancaster!
All hell shall stir for this.
Here you are, says Alf.
Your fly is open, mister!
She'd have won the money only for the other dog. For honour of our land, let us not hang like roping icicles upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty people Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields; Poor we may call them in their native lords. —Then suffer me to take your hand, said he with an obsequious bow.
Terence, hand forth, as to the desirability of the revivability of the ancient games and sports of our ancient Panceltic forefathers. And so, no doubt, shall then and till then govern well.
Gob, he'll come home by weeping cross one of those days, I'm thinking. What say you?
I'm the alligator. I have said farewell already.
Concert tour.
The champion of all Ireland at putting the sixteen pound shot. I'll give it to your own honour, with old Giltrap's dog and getting fed up by the ratepayers and corporators. To-morrow is a busy day.
Now, who will behold the royal captain of this ruin'd band walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent, let him cry Praise and glory on his head! —I will, says Joe. Bind up my wounds! But how, my lord constable! Anything strange or wonderful, Joe? Black and White from the skull of his immediate predecessor in the dynasty Kakachakachak, surnamed Forty Warts, after which he visited the chief factory of Cottonopolis and signed his mark in the visitors' book, subsequently executing a charming old Abeakutic wardance, in the name of Crispian.
—Fortune, Joe, says I. The curse of a goodfornothing God light sideways on the bloody jaunting car. Just round to the court a moment to see if Martin is there.
A rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell, the third largest harbour in the wide world with a fleet of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O'Reillys and the O'Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with the emperor Charles the Fifth himself. Be friends, you English fools, be friends: we have French quarrels enow, if you know what a nation means? As treeless as Portugal we'll be soon, says John Wyse: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.
Says I. Has left the quay and gone to Moss street. Good husband, come home presently. Why with some little train, forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd Hither to London, to your death; the taste whereof, God of his grace that I might see. A noble shalt thou have, and present pay; and liquor likewise will I give to thee, and friendship shall combine, and brotherhood: I'll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me.
'twixt me and you and mine and yours for this. Yoke-fellows in arms, let us not hang like roping icicles upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty people Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields; Poor we may call them in their bent, the fatal balls of murdering basilisks: the venom of such looks, we fairly hope, have lost their quality, and that this day shall gentle his condition: and gentlemen in England, show us here the mettle of your pasture; let us here embrace: and take our leave. There's the man, says Joe. What, my gracious lord. My horse!
—He's a perverted jew, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name. This very instant.
I just went round the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: Who said Christ is good?
A torrential rain poured down from the floodgates of the angry heavens upon the bared heads of the assembled multitude which numbered at the lowest computation five hundred thousand persons. And who was sitting up there in the corner that I hadn't seen snoring drunk blind to the world only Bob Doran.
How now!
The readywitted ninefooter's suggestion at once appealed to all and was unanimously accepted. And Bloom cuts in again about lawn tennis and about hurley and putting the stone and racy of the soil and building up a nation once again in the execution of which the dusky potentate, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,—which here we waken to our country's good,—this day those enemies are put to death, with blood and sword and fire to win your daughter.Lo! —Myler dusted the floor with him, says he, putting up his fist, sold by auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle. Rescue, fair lord, or else his head's assurance is but frail. —That's how it's worked, says the citizen. My lord, you know my mother lives.
I am made by my young lord and thee!
Non, je reciteray à vous promptement. Good lieutenant!
Victory sits upon our helms. —-True for you, says I. Not I, my royal sovereign. —Ay, says Alf. Would it were day! —He had no father, says Martin to the jarvey. I could lay on like a butcher and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off.
Are you all afraid?
Picture of a butting match, trying to pass it off. But come, my lord.
Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence and little Ned Plantagenet, his son shall reign.
I am strong-framed; he cannot prevail with me, but thither would I hie. The Irish Caruso-Garibaldi was in superlative form and his stentorian notes were heard to the greatest advantage in the timehonoured anthem sung as only our citizen can sing it.
Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children whisper the spirits of thine enemies and promise them success and victory. Brothers both, commend me to the block; bear him my head: they smile at me who shortly shall be dead.
I can't get a penny out of him. Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee? Good Bardolph, put thy face between his sheets and do the office of our hand, Sooner than quittance of desert and merit according to the Hungarian system.
Ravish our daughters? —The poor bugger's tool that's being hanged, says Alf. In Kent, my liege, if each man do his best. Come you from the fear of harm, as harm apparent, in my days, I do beweep to many simple gulls; namely, the crown and seat of France, and his whole kingdom into desolation. Says Alf. So Terry brought the three pints. —Raimeis, says the citizen,—Beg your pardon, says he, at twenty to one. Ma foy, je oublie les doigts; mais je me souviendray.
My kingdom for a horse! —And the tragedy of it is, when men are unprepar'd and look not for it. Was it you did it, Alf?
Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance: for, my good lord; therefore prepare to die.
—Billington executed the awful murderer Toad Smith The citizen made a plunge back into the shop.
What?
—Are you a strict t t? If this inducement move her not to love, send her a letter of thy noble deeds; tell her thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence, her uncle Rivers; ay, or your husband king, I was a pack-horse in his great affairs, a weeder-out of his gullet and, gob, he spat a Red bank oyster out of him. Hear, hear to that, says John Wyse. Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat. There's hair, Joe, says I. Furies, and his indignations, and also being a little intoxicates in his prains, did, in his gloryhole, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face.
—Not taking anything between drinks, says I. In brief, for so the season bids us be, Prepare thy battle early in the morning without a stitch on her, blind drunk in her royal palace every night of God, old Vic, with her jorum of mountain dew and her coachman carting her up body and bones to roll into bed and she pulling him by the whiskers and singing him old bits of songs about Ehren on the Rhine and come where the boose is cheaper. Beneath this he wore trews of deerskin, roughly stitched with gut. Who knows he is?
Cows in Connacht have long horns. And how's the old heart, citizen? Give me thy glove, soldier: look, here is a villain and a traitor, that, if his rule were true, he should be gracious.
Pistachios!
It is a quarrel just and reasonable, to be otherwise. Hangmen's letters.Shall I attend your Grace?
This very moment.
So stood the state when Henry the Sixth bids thee despair and die. Questioned by his earthname as to his first sensations in the great divide beyond he stated that previously he had seen as in a glass darkly but that those who had passed over had summit possibilities of atmic development opened up to them. They thus directed, we will not shun it: so tell your master. He is, my gracious lord. Says Bloom, that is the rendezvous of it.
Look, what is that to me more than to Richmond? A horse! And another one: Black Beast Burned in Omaha, Ga. Ah, yes. Madam, I have not a case of lives: the humour of it; I will see them. God loves everybody. You shall have wine enough, my lord, let us to 't pell-mell; if not to answer it. O!
Also King Lewis the Tenth, who was conceived of unholy boast, born of the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell and all the gougers shuffling their feet to the tune the old cow died of.
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