The Restored Finnegans Wake

by James Joyce

  Fig. 1. Bass.

  Coss? Cossist? Your parn! You, you make what name? (And in truth, as a poor soul is between shift and shift ere the death he has lived through becomes the life he is to die into, he or he had albut—he was rickets as to reasons but the balance of his minds was stables—lost himself or himself some somnione sciupiones, so swhitchoverswetch had he or he gazed, Why my as likewise whis his.

  Uteralterance or the Interplay of Bones in the Womb. murphy come, murphy go, murphy plant, murphy grow, a maryamyriameliamurphies, in the lazily eye of his lapis, Vieus Von DVbLIn—’twas one of doze deams darkies ding in dewood—the Turnpike under the Great Elm with Mearingstone in Foreground.)3 Given now ann linch you take enn all. Allow me! And, heaving alljawbreakical expressions out of old Sare Isaac’s4 universal of specious aristmystic unsaide, A is for Anna like L is for

  The Vortex. Spring of Sprung Verse. The Vertex. liv. Ahahahah, Ante Ann, you’re apt to ape aunty annalive! Dawn gives rise. Lo, lo, lives love! Eve takes fall. La, la, laugh leaves alass! Aiaiaiai, Antiann, we’re last to the lost, Loulou! ’Tis perfect. Now (lens your dappled eye here, mine’s presbyoperian, shill und wall), we see the copyink strayed line AL (in Fig., the forest), from being continued, stops ait Lambday.1 Modder ilond there too. Allow me anchore! I bring down noth and carry awe.

  Sarga, or the path of outgoing. Now then, take this in! One of the most murmurable loose carollaries ever Ellis threw his cookingclass. With Olaf as centrum and Olaf ’s lambtail for his spokesman circumscript a cyclone. Allow ter! Hoop! As round as the calf of an egg! O, dear me! O, dear me now! Another grand discobely! After Makefearsome’s Ocean! You’ve actuary entducked one! Quok! Why, you haven’t a passer! Fantastic! Early clever, surely doomed,

  Docetism and Didicism, Maya-Thaya, Tamas-RajasSattvas. to Swift’s, alas, the galehus! Match of a matchness, like your Bigdud Dadder in the bouedeville song, Gorotsky Gollovar’s Troubles, raucking his flavourite turvku in the smukking precincts of lydias,2 with Mary Owens and Dolly Monks seesidling to edge his cropulence and Blake-Roche, Kingston and Dockrell auriscenting him from afurz. Doweth knoweth him, our papacocopotl,3 Abraham Bradley King (tingting! tingting!)? By his magmasine fall. Lumps, lavas and all.4 Bene! But, thunder and turf, it’s not alover yet! One recalls Byzantium. The mystery repeats itself todate as our callback mothar Gaudyanna, that was daughter to a tanner,5 used to sing, as I think, now and then consinuously over her possetpot in her quer homolocous humminbass hesterdie and istherdie and forivor6 and for a night of thoughtsendyures and a day. As Great Shapesphere puns it.

  The Vegetable Cell and its Private Properties. Vanissas Vanistatums! In effect. I remumble, from the yules gone by, purr lil murrer of myhind, so she used indeed. When she give me the Sundaclouths she hung up for Tate and Comyng and snuffed out the ghost in the candle at his old game of haunt the sleepper. Faithful departed. When I’m dreaming back like that I begins to see we’re only all telescopes. Or the comeallyoum of sands. Like when I dromed I was in Dairy and was wuckened up with thump in thudderdown. Rest in peace! But to return.7 What a wonderful memory you have too! Twonderful morrowy! Straorbinaire! Bene! I bring town eau and curry nothung up my sleeve. Now, springing quickenly from the mudland Loosh from Luccan with Allhim as her Elder tetraturn a somersault. All’s fair on all fours, as my instructor unstrict me. Watch! And you’ll have the whole inkle. Allow, allow! Gyre O, gyre O, gyrotundo! Hop lala! As umpty herum as your seat! O, dear me, that was very nesse! Very nace indeed! And makes us a daintical pair of accomplasses!

  The haves and the havenots: a distinction. You allus for the kunst and me for omething with a handel to it. Bene! Now, as will pressantly be felt, there’s tew tricklesome poinds where our twain of doubling bicirculars, mating approxemetely in their suite poi and poi, dunloop into eath the ocher. Lucihere! I fee where you mea. The doubleviewed seeds. Nun, lemmas quatsch, vide pervoys akstiom, and I think as I’m squeezing the limon stickme punktum but I’d likelong, by

  Zweispaltung as Fundemaintalish of Wiederherstellung. Araxes, to mack a capital Pee for Pride down there on the batom1 and let you go, Airmienious, and orrange your modest mock Pie out of Humbles up your end. Where your apexojesus will be a point of order. With a geign groan grunt and a croak click cluck.2 And my faceage kink and kurkle trying to make keek peep.3 Are you right there, Michael, are you right? Do you think you can hold on by sitting tight? Well, of course, it’s awful angelous. Still I don’t feel it’s so dangelous. Ay, I’m right here, Nickel, and I’ll write. Singing the top line why it suits me mikey fine. But, yaghags hogwarts and arrahquinouthiance, it’s the muddest thick that was ever heard dump since Eggsmather got smothered in the plap of the pfan. Now, to compleat anglers, beloved birouthiarn and hushtokan hishtakatsch, for semenal rations join alfa pea and pull loose by dotties and, to be more sparematically logoical, eelpie and paleale by trunkles. Allow me align while I encloud especious! The nike done it. Like pah.4 I peh. Innate little

  Destiny, Influence of Design upon. bondery. And as plane as a pokestiff.5 Now, aqua in buccat, I’ll make you to see figuratleavely the whome of your eternal geomater. Where Hoddum and Heave, our monsterbilker, bauked his bawd of parodies. And if you fiung her headdress on her from under her highlows you’d wheeze whyse Salmonson set his seel on a hexengown.6 Hissss! Arrah, go on! Fin for fun? You’ve spat your shower, syphsyph like a son of Sibernia. But let’s have at it! Subtend to me now! Pisk! Outer serpumstances being ekewilled, we carefully, if she pleats, lift up by her seam, hem and jabote at the spidsiest of her trickkikant (like thousands done before since fillies calpered. Ocone! Ocone!) the maidsapron of our A.L.P., fearfully!, till its nether nadir is vortically where (allow me aright to two cute winkles) its naval’s

  Prometheus or the Promise of Provision. napex will have to beandbe. You must proach nearmear for at is dark. Lob. And fight your match. Jeldy! And this is what you’ll say.1 For addn’t we to gayatsee with Puhll the Punkah’s bell? Waaaaaa. Tch! Sluice! Pla! And there, redneck (your sow to the duble!), mygh and thy, the living spit of dead waters,2 fastness firm of Hurdlebury Fenn, discinct and isopleural in its sixuous parts, flument, fluvey and fluteous, middenwedge of its stream’s your muddy old triagonal delta, fiho miho, plain for you now, appia lippia pluvaville (hop the hula, girls!), the no niggard spot of her safety vulve, our first of all usquiluteral threeingles (and why wouldn’t she sit cresslogged like the lass that lured a tailor?), the constant of fluxion, Mahamewetma, pride of the province,3 and, when that tidled boare rutches

  Ambages and Their Rôle. up from the Afrantic, Allaph Quaran’s his bett und bier!4 Paa lickam laa, all lickam pal! This it is an her. You see her it. Which it whom you see it is her her. And if you could go a neggbetter we’d soon see some raff and some scrumble riffa. Quicks herit fossyending. Quef! So post that to your pape and smarket! And you can haul up that languil pennant, mate. I’ve read your tunc’s dimissage. For, let it be taken that her littlenist is of no magnetude or, again, let it be granted that Doll the laziest can be dissimulant with all respects from Doll the fiercst, thence must any whatyoulike

  Ecclesiastical and Celestial Hierarchies. The Ascending. The Descending. in the power of empthood be either greater THAN or less THAN the unitate we have in one or hence shall the vectorious readyeyes of evertwo circumflickerent searclhers never film in the elipsities of their gyribouts those fickers which are returnally reprodictive of themselves.5 Which is unpassible. Quarrellary. The logos of somewome to that base anything, when most characteristically mantissaminus, comes to nullum in the endth:6 orso, here is nowet badder than the sin of Aha with his cosin Lil, verswaysed on coverswised, and all that’s consecants and cotangincies till Perpperp stops repippinghim, since her redtangles are all abscissans, for limitsing

  The peripatetic periphery. It’s Allothesis. this tendency of our paradismic perimutter, Frivulteeny Sexuagesima,7 to expense herselfs as sphere as possible in all directions on the bend of the unbridalled, the infinisissismalls of her facets becoming
manier and manier as the calicolum of her umdescribables (one has thoughts of that eternal Rome) shrinks from schurtiness to scherts.1 Scholium: there are trist sigheds to everysing but ichs on the freed brings euchs to the feared. Qued? Mother of us all! O, dear me, look at that now! I don’t know is it your spictre or my omination but I’m glad you dimentioned it! My Lourde! My Lourde! If that aint just the beatenest lay I ever see! And a superpbosition!

  Canine Venus Sublimated to Aulidic Aphrodite. Quoint a quincidence! O.K. Omnius Kollidimus. As Ollover Krumwall sayed when he slepped über his grannyamather. Kangaroose feathers. Who in the name of thunder’d ever belevin you were that bolt? But you’re holy mooxed and gaping up the wrong palce2 as if you was seeheeing the gheist that stays forenenst, you blessed simpletop domefool! Where’s your belested loiternan’s lamp? You must lap wandret down the bluishing refluction below. Her trunk’s not her braindbox. Hear where the bolgylines.

  Exclusivism: The Ors, Sors and Fors, Which? Yseen here the puncture. See her good. Luck! So he done it. Well, well, well, well, well! O Dee, O Dee, that’s very lovely! We like Simperspreach Hammeltones to fellow Selvertunes O’Haggans.3 When he rolls over his ars and shows the hise of his heels. Vely lovely entilely! Like a yangsheepstang with the tsifengtse. So analytical plausible! And, be the powers of Moll Kelly, neighbour topsowyer, it will be a lozenge to me all my lauffe.4 More better twofeller we been speak copperads. Ever thought about Guinness’s? And the regrettable Parson Rome’s advice? Want to join the police?5 You know, you were alwise one of the bright ones, since a foot made you an unmentionable, fakes! You know, you’re the divver’s own smart gossoon, aequal to yoursell and anigel to anglyother, so you are, hoax! You know, you’ll be dampned, so you will, one of these invernal days, but you will be, carrotty!6

  Primanouriture and Ultimogeniture. Whereapool, gayed that when he stop look time he stop long ground who here hurry he would have ever the lothst word, with a sweet me ah err eye ear marie to reat from the jacob’s7 and a slypull for toothsake of his armjaws at the slidepage of de Vere Foster, would, would and could, candydissing P. Kevin, to fress up the rinnerung and to ate by hart (leo, I read, such is spanish, escribibis, all your mycoscoups), wont to nibbleh ravenostonnoriously ihs mum to me in bewonderment of his chipper chuthor (for, while that Other by the halp of his creactive mind offered to deleberate the mass from the booty of fight, our Same with the holp of the bounty of food sought to delubberate the mess from his corructive mund) with his muffetee cuffs ownconsciously grafficking with his sinister cyclopes after trigamies and spirals’ wobbles pursuiting their rovinghamilton selves and godolphing in fairlove to see around the waste of noland’s Sick us a sock with some sediment in it for the sake of our darning wives.

  No Sturm. No Drang. Illustration. browne jesus1 (thur him no quartos!) till that on him so poorin sweat the juggaleer’s veins (quench his quill!) in his napier scrag stud out bursthright tamquam taughtropes. (Spry him! Call a bloodlekar! Where’s Dr Brassenaarse?) Es war itwas in his priesterrite. O He Must Suffer! From this misbelieving feacemaker to his noncredible fancyflame.2 Ask for Bosthoon, late for Mass, pray for the blaablaablack sheep. (Sure, you could wright anny pippap passage, Eye bet, as foyne as that moultylousy Erewhig yerself, mick! Nock the muddy nickers!3 Christ’s Church varses Bellial!) Dear and

  Ascription of the Active. he went on to scripple gentlemine born, milady bread, he would pen for her, he would pine for her,4 how he would patpun fun for all5 with his frolicky frowner so and his glumsome grinner otherso. And how are you, waggy?6 My animal is sorrafool! And trieste, ah trieste ate I my liver! Se non è vero son trovatore. O jerry! He was soso, harriot all! He was sadfellow, steifel! He was mistermysterion. Like a pyrate out of pensionce with a gouvernament job. All moanday, tearsday, wailsday, thumpsday, frightday, shatterday till the fear of the Law. Look at his twitchers! He was quisquis,

  Proscription of the Passive. floored on his plankraft of shittim wood. Look at him! Sink deep or touch not the Cartesian spring! Want more ashes, griper? Now diesmal he was lying low on his rawside laying siege to goblin castle. And, bezouts that, now hyenasmeal he was laying him long on his laughside lying sack to croakpartridge. (Be thou wars of Rolaf ’s intestions! quoths the Bhagavat biskop Leech.) Ann opes tipoo soon ear. If you could me lendtill my pascol’s kondyl, sahib, and the price of a plate of poultice. Punked. With best apolojigs and merry money thanks to self for all the clericals and again

  Ensouling Female Sustains Agonising Overman. begs guerdon for bistrispissing on your bunificence. Well, wiggywiggy-wagtail, and how are you, yaggy? With a capital Tea for Thirst. From here Buvard to dear Picuchet. Blott.

  Now (peel your eyes, muggins, and brush your saton hat, me elementator joyclid, son of a Butt! She’s mine, Jow low jure,1 be Skibbering’s eagles, sweet tart of Whiteknees Archway) watch him, having caught at the bifurking calamum in his bolsillos, the onelike underworp he had ever funnet in without difficultads, the aboleshqvick, signing away in happinext When the answerer is a leman.

  Sesame to the Rescue. The Key Signature. complete. (Exquisite. Game of inspiration! I always adored your hand. So could I too and without the scrape of a pen. Ohr for oral, key for crib, olchedolche and a lunge ad lib. Can you write us a last line? From Smith-Jones-Orbison?) Intricatedly in years, jirryalimpaloop. And i Romain to fallthere at bare feet, hurryaswormarose. Hp u bn gd grl.2 Und alws my thts. Two dies of one rafflement. Eche bennyache. Outstamp and distribute him at the expanse of his society. To be continued. Anon.

  Force Centres of the Fire Serpentine: heart, throat, navel, spleen, sacral, fontanelle, intertemporal eye. And ook, ook, ook, fanky! All the charictures3 in the drame! This is how San Holypolypools. And this, pardonsky!, is the way Romeopullupaleaps.4 Pose the pen, man, way me does. Way Ole Missa Yellatooth fust show me how. Fourth power to her illpogue! Bould strokes for your life! Tip! This is Steal, this is Barke, this is Starn, this is Swhipt, this is Wiles, this is Pshaw, this are Dibbllinnbbayyates.5 This is brave Danny weeping his spache for the popers. This is cool Connolly wiping his hearth with brave Danny. And this, regard!, is how Chawleses Skewered paraparnelligoes between brave All square and according to cocker.

  Conception of the Compromise and Finding of a Formula. Danny boy and the Connolly. Upanishadem! Top. Spoken hath L’Arty Magory. Ergobragh! Prouf!6

  And Kev was wreathed with his pother. Frothblowers.

  But (that Jacoby feeling again for forebitten fruit! and, my Georgeous, Kevvy too he just loves his puppadums, I judge!) after all his autocratic writings of paraboles of famellicurbs and meddlied muddlingisms, thee Fig and thistle plot a pig and whistle.

  Ideal Present Alone Produces Real Future. faroots hof cullchaw end ate citrawn, woodint wun able rep of the triperforator awlrite blast through his pergaman hit him where he lived and do for the blessted selfchuruls, what I think, smarter like it done for a manny another unpious of the hairydary quare quandary firstlings till at length, you one bladdy bragger, by mercystroke he measured his earth anyway? could not but reckon in his adder’s badder cadder way our frankson who, to be plain, he fight him all time twofeller longa kill dead finish bloody face blong you, was misocain. Wince wan’s won! Rip!1 And his countinghands rose.

  Formalisa. Loves deathhow simple! With eboniser.

  Slutningsbane.2 In pix.

  Service superseding self. Thanks eversore much, Pointcarried! I can’t say if it’s the weight you strike me to the quick or that red mass I was looking at but at the present momentum, potential as I am, I’m seeing raying bogeys rings round me. Honours to you and may you be commended for your exhibitiveness! I’d love to take you for a bugaboo ride and play funfer all if you’d only sit and be the ballasted bottle in the porker barrel. You well deserve a rolypoly as long as from here to tomorrow. And to heel with them drift bobs and bottom trailers! By Saxon Chromaticus, you done that lovely for me! Didn’t he now, Nubilina? Tiny Mite, shie studiert whas?3 With her listening-in coiffure, her dream of Endsland’s daylast and the
glorifires of being pre-sainted maid to majesty. And less is the pity. For she isn’t the lollypops she easily might be if she had for a sample Virginia’s air of achievement. That Euchre risk, merci buckup, and mind who you’re pucking, flabby.

  Catastrophe and Anabasis. might keep her from throwing delph.4 As I was saying, while retorting thanks, you make me a reborn of the cards. We’re offals boys ambows.5