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And from her arms.
Wait to be wooed and won. Ay, meacock. Who will woo
you?
Read the skies. Autontimorumenos. Bous Stephanou-
menos. Where’s your configuration? Stephen, Stephen, cut
the bread even. S. D: sua donna. Già: di lui. gelindo risolve
di non amare S. D.
—What is that, Mr Dedalus? the quaker librarian asked.
Was it a celestial phenomenon?
—A star by night, Stephen said. A pillar of the cloud by
day.
What more’s to speak?
Stephen looked on his hat, his stick, his boots.
Stephanos, my crown. My sword. His boots are spoiling
the shape of my feet. Buy a pair. Holes in my socks. Hand-
kerchief too.
—You make good use of the name, John Eglinton al-
lowed. Your own name is strange enough. I suppose it
explains your fantastical humour.
Me, Magee and Mulligan.
Fabulous artificer. The hawklike man. You flew. Where-
to? Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger. Paris and back.
Lapwing. Icarus. Pater, ait. Seabedabbled, fallen, weltering.
Lapwing you are. Lapwing be.
Mr Best eagerquietly lifted his book to say:
—That’s very interesting because that brother motive,
don’t you know, we find also in the old Irish myths. Just
what you say. The three brothers Shakespeare. In Grimm
too, don’t you know, the fairytales. The third brother that