"Suck it yourself, sugarstick!"

(484.10-486.5)  Shaun continues his defensive reply to Mark by voicing his suspicion that Mark is trying to convince everyone that Shaun is not truly Irish.  He's had enough of the four old men -- these "laycreated cardonals" -- and he feels that they're ungrateful for everything he's done for them and the rest of the Irish people.  "I brought you from the loups of Lazary and you have remembered my lapsus langways," he says.  He should be treated with more respect, for he has a coat of arms bearing (as McHugh notes) the motto of the Prince of Wales.  What's more, his name, "Suck at" (McHugh notes that Sucat was the name St. Patrick's parents gave him), is the first name God will call on doomsday.  "Hastan the vista!" shouts Shaun at Mark, anticipating the Terminator's catch phrase by half a century.  "Or in alleman:  Suck at!"

Luke responds to Shaun's defensive outburst in kind.  "Suck it yourself, sugarstick!" he says.  Noting the rambling and cross-lingual nature of Shaun's replay, Luke soon asks, "Are we speachin d'anglas landadge or are you sprakin sea Djoytsch?"  (I like the idea of calling Wakeian language "Djoytsch," which in one sense stands for "Joyce.")  Luke goes on to joke that Shaun's language confuses his ears as much as it confuses everyone else's:  "If you hored him outerly as we harum lubberintly, from morning rice till nightmale, with his drums and bones and hums in drones your innereer'd heerdly heer he."

A perhaps fed up Shaun raises the stakes after this assault on his word usage by devolving his language even further.  "Me no angly mo, me speakee Yellman's lingas," says Shaun in an accent mocking Chinese speakers of English.  "Nice Doc Mistel Lu, please!"  In this mocking reply, he does seem to indicate that he's gotten into the mess he's in by virtue of his mother's influence, just as his father -- the falling and rising "Jackinaboss" who "belongashe" -- did.

"Hell's Confucium and the Elements!" one of the old men shouts in reply, noting the confusion stemming from Shaun's mocking of Confucius.  "Tootoo moohootch!"  This isn't the talk of a postman, he says.  He tells Shaun to give up his "sob story" and go back to his "lambdad's tale," then asks whether Shaun is the Roman Catholic Patrick who came to Ireland in 432 ("Are you roman cawthrick 432?").  Shaun responds with another bit of obscure verse that can be taken in any number of interpretive directions.  Here's one shot from me:

Quadrigue my yoke.  [I am a slave of four masters, like St. Patrick was alleged to have been, as noted by McHugh.]
Triple my tryst.  [Perhaps, I am Tristan in each of the first three of Vico's ages.]
Tandem my sire.  [Like Stephen Dedalus, I serve two lords, the King of England, and the pope of the Catholic Church.]