"when he's not absintheminded"

(463.27-465.31)  In addition to Dave/Shem's vices, Shaun is worried about his health, for Dave is "looking aged with his pebbled eyes, and johnnythin too."  "Hope he hasn't the cholera," Shaun notes.  Still, no one can "hold a chef's cankle" to Dave, the "joyllytan fine demented brick and the prince of goodfilips!"  Shaun says that he has the "highest of respect" for him, even though he hints that he's a plagiarist (in a sequence, he calls Dave "cog," "crib," and "coppy").  While he was away, this "most omportent man" has shaved his head, and he now sports a "blackguarded eye" and "goatsbeard" (as McHugh notes, Dave looks much like Joyce, who wore a black eye patch and goatee), which are quite visible to everyone since Dave has taken off his hat.  "Ah, he's very thoughtful and sympatrico that way is Brother Intelligentius, when he's not absintheminded, with his Paris addresse!" Shaun says.

Upon his return, Dave receives a warm greeting from this brother.  "Give us the dyed dextremity here, frother, the Claddagh clasp!" says Shaun, asking for a handshake.  He goes on to ask Dave about his travels, wondering among other things how Austria and Hungary were and whether Dave met "with Peadhar the Grab at all."  "You rejoice me!" Shaun says.  "Faith, I'm proud of you, french davit!  You've surpassed yourself!"  Shaun seems to be genuine in his praise, but I wonder if there isn't something sinister lurking here.

"Be introduced to yes!" Shaun says, reacquainting Dave with his sister Isabel.  "This is me aunt Julia Bride, your honour, dying to have you languish to scandal in her bosky old delltangle" (remember, the delta and triangle are symbols of their mother, ALP).  Neither Dave nor Isabel recognizes the other, but Shaun is quick to point out that he's willing to share her with Dave:  "She has plenty of woom in the smallclothes for the bothsforus, nephews push!  Hatch yourself well!  Enjombyourselves thurily!"  As Shaun goes on, it's almost as if he's a pimp trying to push Isabel on Dave.  "Have a hug!" he says.  "Take her out of poor tuppeny luck before she goes off in pure treple licquidance.  I'd give three shillings a pullet to the canon for the conjugation to shadow you kissing her from me leberally all over as if she was a cricifix."  We'll see how things progress tomorrow . . . .