(317.22-319.15) Today's reading begins with the three soldier-patrons merging with three tailors from the tale of the Norwegian Captain (thus making them soldier-patron-tailors, I guess). They comment on the captain (and HCE), calling him "Humpsea dumpsea" and promising "[a] ninth for a ninth."
As his feast continues, the captain seems to become lost in thought, "obbliffious of the headth of hosth that rosed before him" (oblivious that he sits before Howth hill). He ponders the "precious memory" of his wife ("Him her first lap, her his fast pal, for ditcher for plower, till deltas twoport.") and takes stock of his life. He's getting up in years -- "this glowworld's lump is gloaming off" -- and he hopes that his wandering has ended and that his golden years (his "wondernest") have arrived. But while he has "performed the law in truth for the lord of the law," he is not a perfect man. His rainbow -- his "spectrem onlymergeant" -- is not one of colors, but of the seven deadly sins: "calvitousness, loss, nngnr, gliddinyss, unwill and snorth." Still, he says, "[T]here's the chance of a night for my lifting."
Here, the tailor-patrons interrupt the captain's musings. The first comments that "it's a suirsite's stircus haunting hesteries round old volcanoes" as he downs three swallows of ale at once. Tomorrow, we'll resume with the others' interjections.
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