Nine Characters in Search of a Wake
Scene II
Marriage and the Family

The Panel Play
Panel & Characters
The Claybill
The Text - introduction
  Scene I
  Scene II
  Scene III
  Scene IV
  Scene V
  Scene VI

[actors stick their heads through the Panel when they speak]

[dramatically, pointing to the mummified Joyce] 
Oh, James Joyce, you were excruciated, in honour bound to the cross of your own cruelfiction! But fame would come to you twixt a sleep and a wake. [192.17-20]  Open the book; let us begin!

Anna Livia Plurabelle:
riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.[3.1-3]


[telling a story]
The unfacts, did we possess them, are too imprecisely few to warrant our certitude [57.16-17], but sometime in this meanderthalltale [19.25] in Chapelizod, on the river Liffey, in the west of Dublin, we find stuttering, humpback, Humphrey Chimpden Earwicker [pointing to HCE]. 

Humphrey Chimpden Earwicker:
There I kept a pub.  The house was Toot and Come-Inn. [512.34-35]
[enunciated clearly]

Humpty Dumpty:
[interrupting, shouts]

And he wooed Anna Livia Plurabelle [pointing], and she, casting her perils before her swains, [202.8-9] remembers. . .  

You said how you'd give me the keys of me heart. And we'd be married till delth to uspart [626.30-31]. I was just a whisk brisk sly spry spink spank sprint of a thing [627.4-5].  

He was spa mad but inn sane [129.15]; with an eatupus complex and a drinkthe dregs kink [128.36-129.1].

Distinctly dirty but rather a dear [131.144-15].

He speared the rod and spoiled the lightning; married with cakes and repunked with pleasure [131.14-15] and the lounge lizards of the pumproom had their nine days' jeer.  [101.25-26]

[to the tune of the wedding march from Loehingrin]
Don Dom Dombdomb and his wee follyo! [197.17-18]

In this book of Doublends Jined [20.15-16], two sons at an hour were born [14.11] [pointing at Shaun]

I, Shaun, the carrier of the word, and my twin brother, Shem, the cutter of the reed [385.4-6]

The twin sons, scribbledehobbles, in whose veins runs a mixture . . .  [275.22-24]

I'm Shaun the Post with my shammy mail sack [206.  ]; he's Shem.  Shem is a sham and a low sham. [170.25] my own breastbrother, my doubled withd love and my singlebiassed hate, bread by the same fire and signed with the same salt, tucked in the one bed and bit by the one flea. [168.6-10]

Daughter, Issy, a bewitching blonde who dimples delightfully and is approached in loveliness only by her grateful sister reflection in a mirror  [220.7-9]

My linkingclass girl, she's a fright, poor old dutch. Simply killing how she tidies her hair! I call her Sosy because she's sosiety for me and she's nice for enticing my friends and breaksin me shoes for me when I've arch trouble and she would kiss my white arms for me so gratefully but apart from that she's terribly nice really, my sister. [459.4-18]

But even married life and motherhood could not keep Anna Livia settled.  She was always restless, running, rushing . . . He knew all about it before he married her and loved her for it.

O tell me all about Anna Livia!  I want to hear all about Anna Livia.

 You'll die when you hear. Well, you know Anna Livia . . . [voice trailing off]  [196.1-6]

  Puzzly, puzzly, I smell a cat. [275.lm1-2]  Irish eyes were smiling daggers down their backs. [176.22-23]

Old maps of Dublin call its river Anna Liffey, and "liv" is the Danish word for life; Anna Livia is the Liffey. [Tindell p.140]

First she let her hair fal and down it flussed to her feet its teviots winding coils. Then, motheraked, she sampood herself with galawater from crown to sole.  And after that she wove a garland for her hair. She pleated it. She plaited it. Of meadowgrass and riverflags, the bulrush and waterweed, and of fallen griefs of weeping willow.  [206.29-207.20]

[lights begin to dim midway through this speech and fade to black at end]
Ann alive, the lisp of her, if I's plane she's purty, if I's fane, she's flirty, with her auburnt streams, and her coy cajoleries, and her dabblin drolleries, for to rouse my rudderup, or to drench my dreams. If hot Hammurabi, or cowld Clesiastes, could espy her pranklings, they'd burst bounds agin, and renounce their ruings, and denounce their doings, for river and iver, and a night. Amin!  [139.16-28]

[end of Scene II]

<<<<<<<<<to Scene I --------------- to Scene III>>>>>>>>>

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