Dane, Roman or Norman ever conquered this
for the E
that is for England
that eats usa| which you
still occupy in virtue of the
M George or the
Edward.1| It seems
you1| is to blame.
by daughters of
memoryx|1| In the
alive opinion of Dr
Swift one man in
armour will beat ten men in their shirts. You are at present my uninvited
this the commonwoe of
Ireland1|. You may
not be aware of it but you were sent to burgle on the premises. That is the
wisdom of the State.
Guilt is not brought
home to the individual. In a
each man believes his neighbour killed the
victim. You are hired to assassinate. |1Enfin, ce sont vos oignons.1|
(|1Lord Ten |agentleman poet with |bbrandnewb| tennis racketa|1| in Union Jack Blazer, flannels. He is bareheaded, flowing bearded and has a silver postboy's horn slung round his neck)
There's not to reason why. |1Kind hearts & coronets |a(He shakes hands with both soldiers vigorously)a|1|
|aBiff him one, George.a| He doesn't half want a thick ear.1|
(tugs Stephen's sleeve) Come
|1(to the soldiers) I'm not afraid of what I can talk to1| (shoving away his hand) Struggle is the law of life.
(|bwaving her handkerchiefb| from her balcony) Goodbye, cook's soon. |bSafe home to Dollyb| Will always Dre Think of you, Dolly Gray |b|cThink Dreamc| of the girl you left behind & she she'll dream of youb| & she'll dream of you
(The soldiers turn their swimming eyes)
(in |bundress,b| forage cap, with blank) Eyes front.a|
(|aholding proppinga| him) |aMind Retaina| your own |acentre of gravitya|.
(laughs emptily) & |aMy centre of gravity is displaced. I have forgotten the tricka|1| But human beings |1who walk upright on this orange retaining the perpendicular1| have invented arbitration. Your king, for instance.
(pushing forward) What's that you're saying. What about my king.
(|1a red jujube in his mouth1| solemnly |1& slowly but indistinctly1|) Peace, perfect peace! |1Cheerio|a, boysa|!1|
|1(Hornblower, a loyal kingsman in tallyho cap, calls)
A stag, your Majesty.
(Edward the Seventh raises his gun & fires. The quarry falls)
(sucking a yellow jujube) Grassed that one.1|
(nervously |1friendly1|) I understand your feeling though I have no king myself. I say, he is travelling about with a new patent medicine
(King Edward, assuming the garb, |1|xphosphorescent face,x|1| voice and halo of |1Jesus Christ Joking Jesus1|)
Edward the Seventh
white jujube in his mouth)1|
My methods are new & are causing surprise
To make the blind see I throw dust in their eyes.
one into Jerry.1| Give him
a kick in the knockers.
(to the soldiers |1softly1|) He doesn't know what he's saying. He's a student who has taken |1a little1| more than is good for him. |1|xupset his mental balancex|1| I know him. He's a gentleman.
I don't give a bugger who he is.
We don't give a bugger who he is.
|1Kevin Egan of Paris, in black Spanish tasselled shirt & peep o'day boy's hat stands & |asigns signalsa| to Stephen
Hlo! bonjour. (he laughs vacantly) |aOld hag Vieille ogressea| with the dents jaunes.1|
(swaying) Allow me. I know what I'm saying.
Here. What are you saying about my king.
Nothing. He wants |1some of1| my money |1and my life1|. |1But as I have none want must be his master.1|
Who wants your bleeding money?
He's no worse than the rest
(violently |1tugging at his belt1|) I'll wring the neck of any fucker says a word against my fucking king.
(terrified) He said nothing. Not a word. A misunderstanding.
Did I? |1|aI seem to annoy him like a green rag to a bull.a| (tries to move off) Will someone inform me |aina| what part of the world I am least likely to meet these people. ça se voit à Paris aussi. |aNo On the contrary. The Irish missile troops, isn't that so?a|1|
|1(Major Tweedy, in uniform of Dublin Fusiliers, his breast bright with orders, |agood conduct, epaulettes|b, sabretacheb| and gilt chevrons |bputtees army breeches forage capb|a| calls gruffly under large moustache)
Go it, Harry. |aDo him one in the eye.a| Make a bleeding butcher's shop of the bugger1|
Private Carr (his belt?)
(shouts) I'll wring the bleeding
neck of any fucking bastard says a word against my bleeding fucking king. I'll wring his fucking neck, I will. I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ. |1(with ferocious articulation)1| I'll wring the |1bastard1| fucker's |1bleeding bastard1| fucking windpipe.