Page 351 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

in storms dire, Tried, like another Ulysses, Pericles, prince
of Tyre?
Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded.
—A child, a girl, placed in his arms, Marina.

—The leaning of sophists towards the bypaths of
apocrypha is a constant quantity, John Eglinton detected.
The highroads are dreary but they lead to the town.
Good Bacon: gone musty. Shakespeare Bacon’s wild
oats. Cypherjugglers going the highroads. Seekers on the
great quest. What town, good masters? Mummed in
names: A. E., eon: Magee, John Eglinton. East of the sun,
west of the moon: Tir na n-og. Booted the twain and
staved.
How many miles to Dublin?
Three score and ten, sir.
Will we be there by candlelight?
—Mr Brandes accepts it, Stephen said, as the first play
of the closing period.
—Does he? What does Mr Sidney Lee, or Mr Simon
Lazarus as some aver his name is, say of it?
—Marina, Stephen said, a child of storm, Miranda, a
wonder, Perdita, that which was lost. What was lost is
given back to him: his daughter’s child. My dearest wife,

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