Jute — Jute!
Mutt — Much Mutts pleasure.
Jute — Are you Jeff?
Mutt — Someward.
Jute — You are not a jeffmute?
Mutt — No, only an utterer.
Jute — What is the mutter with you?
Mutt — I became a stummer.
Jute — What a turrurrurrurrible thing to because! How?
Mutt — Aput the buttle.
Jute — Whose Poddle? Wherein?
Mutt — The Inns of Dungtarf where used ought to be.
Jute — You are almost inedible to me. Become a little more wiseable as if I were you. Let me cross your
Mutt — Up Urp Boohooros Boohooru! Boroorusurp! Booru! Usurp! I trumple with from wrath rath in my mine mines when I rememmerem.
Jute — Let me cross your qualm with gilt trinkgilt. Here is coyne, a piece of oaks.
Mutt — How I know it the livery greytecloke of Cedric Silkyshag [with his hairyside out]! It He is him. Tormentor Thormentor. He was poached on that eggtentical spot by the. Here where the liveries. There where the missers mooney: Minnikin Passe.
Jute — Simply Sumply because, as Taciturn pretells, the our wrongstory shortener, he dumptied the this wholebarrow of rubbages on to soil here?
Mutt — Just like a puddingstone at inat the brookcells of a riverpool.
Jute — Lord Loud Load a marshy marshey! With what Wid wad for a noise like?
Mutt — Somular to a bull in a Clompturf. (Joyce intended to make an addition here. In the next draft we find "Rooks roarum rex Roome!") I could snore to him [woolseley side in], with my owth by the neck I am sutton on old Brian O'Flynn O'Flinn.
Jute — Boiledoil Boiledoyl & rawhony for on me if I can forestand you your such a norse noise noise norse as you make out of it. [You tell of rutterdamrott unheardof & unscene.] Good aftermeal! [See you doomed.]
Mutt — Rest a while. Half Walk a look onward roundward you will see [how old the plain] From Inn the Bigning Bygning to Finnisthere. Punct. Thousand & one livestories have netherfellen here. They are tombed to the mound isfes to ishges to ishges, erde from erde. This earth ourth is not but brickdust. He who runes may read it. But speak siftly. Be in your whisht. Whyst? 'Tis viking viceking's soil.
The first draft proper continues with the Prankqueen piece.
David Hayman: A FIRST-DRAFT VERSION OF Finnegans Wake