Thursday, February 27, 2014

Page 14 (1.398-436) "milk... ma'am?"


editions: [1922] [html] [arch] [$2] [$4]
notes: [Th] [G&S] [Dent] [wbks] [rw] [images] [hyper]
Delaney: [33] [35] Useen: [38] [39] [40] [map] [*]
Delaney: [32]

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milk, not hers. Old shrunken paps. She poured again a measureful and a tilly. Old and secret she had entered from a morning world, maybe a messenger.


"tilly"
this archetype is an old washerwoman 'Kate' in FW, abbreviated OGG sometimes, for Old Gummy Granny

Delaney: [33]

She praised the goodness of the milk, pouring it out. Crouching by a patient cow at daybreak in the lush field, a witch on her toadstool, her wrinkled fingers quick at the squirting dugs. They lowed about her whom they knew, dewsilky cattle. Silk of the kine and poor old woman, names given her in old times. A wandering crone, lowly form of an immortal serving her conqueror and her gay betrayer, their common cuckquean, a messenger from the secret morning. To serve or to upbraid, whether he could not tell: but scorned to beg her favour.

"She praised the goodness of the milk" [why no quote?]
"lowed" = mooed (bellowed)
"poor old woman" = Shan Van Vocht

Delaney: [35]

— It is indeed, ma'am, Buck Mulligan said, pouring milk into their cups.
— Taste it, sir, she said.
He drank at her bidding.
— If we could live on good food like that, he said to her somewhat loudly, we wouldn't have the country full of rotten teeth and rotten guts. Living in a bogswamp, eating cheap food and the streets paved with dust, horsedung and consumptives' spits.


consumption/tuberculosis wasn't conquered until 1944

— Are you a medical student, sir? the old woman asked.
— I am, ma'am, Buck Mulligan answered.
— Look at that now, she said. 


She recognises medical students as a category separate from students or doctors.

Stephen listened in scornful silence. She bows her old head to a voice that speaks to her loudly, her bonesetter, her medicineman: me she slights. To the voice that will shrive and oil for the grave all there is of her but her woman's unclean loins, of man's flesh made not in God's likeness, the serpent's prey. And to the loud voice that now bids her be silent with wondering unsteady eyes.
— Do you understand what he says? Stephen asked her.


"the loud voice that now bids her be silent with wondering unsteady eyes" (BM's voice, not literally bidding, her unsteady eyes)
SD has heard Haines, but the narrator has not?

— Is it French you are talking, sir? the old woman said to Haines.
Haines spoke to her again a longer speech, confidently.
— Irish, Buck Mulligan said. Is there Gaelic on you?
— I thought it was Irish, she said, by the sound of it. Are you from the west, sir?
— I am an Englishman, Haines answered.
— He's English, Buck Mulligan said, and he thinks we ought to speak Irish in Ireland.
— Sure we ought too, the old woman said, and I'm ashamed I don't speak the language myself. I'm told it's a grand language by them that knows.
— Grand is no name for it, said Buck Mulligan. Wonderful entirely. Fill us out some more tea, Kinch. Would you like a cup, ma'am?


if SD pours her a cup he'll be serving another servant

>

mysteries:


[DD 02:43-04:40]
[DD 00:00-01:51]


[IM 31:22-34:27]

[LV1 33:15-36:04]

[LV2 00:55-03:18]


telemachus: 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23


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