GR translation: wheeling his bicycle

[alice wellintown]

>
> P81.36-38 ..., reeking of the sea (which he obtains once a week from the same fat fishmonger's son wheeling his bicycle, puffing, up the chalkwhite cliff)...
>
> I assume "wheeling" means pushing his bicycle and not riding it, is that correct?
> And it's the fishmonger's son who is wheeling his bicycle up the cliff, right?

At this point, young Pynchon is showing off, so he has his fingers in
so many books, pulling threads, twisting yarn, spinning and wheeling.
Shakespeare's book is far more important than Pavlov's book here. Of
course, this is a general theme, the two cultures, and young P is keen
to weave them together herem making romantic knights of his
scientists. But these knights of science are not chivalrous. Chivalry,
however, is not dead. Fathers and suitors, like mothers who fancy
themselves a Mary to a Christ, and dream of stars to hang as emblems
of their sons sacraficed to the War, exchange their daughters for
words, words, words.

 Two Allusions to Shakespeare here, both deal with daughters and the
double dealing fathers who pretend to protect them, like Juliet's old
man or the father who sells his daughter, the latest Dutchess, to the
Duke in Browning's poem: Othello & Hamlet.

Rod.  Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you,
If’t be your pleasure and most wise consent,—
As partly, I find, it is,—that your fair daughter,
At this odd-even and dull-watch o’ the night,
Transported with no worse nor better guard
But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier,
To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor,—
If this be known to you, and your allowance,
We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs;
But if you know not this, my manners tell me
We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe,
That, from the sense of all civility,
I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:
Your daughter, if you have not given her leave,
I say again, hath made a gross revolt;
Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes
In an extravagant and wheeling stranger
Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself:
If she be in her chamber or your house,
Let loose on me the justice of the state
For thus deluding you.

HAMLET
Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.

      POLONIUS
 Not I, my lord.

      HAMLET
 Then I would you were so honest a man.

      POLONIUS
 Honest, my lord!

      HAMLET
  Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be
  one man picked out of ten thousand.

      POLONIUS
  That's very true, my lord.

      HAMLET
  For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a
  good kissing carrion—Have you a daughter?

      POLONIUS
  I have, my lord.

      HAMLET
  Let her not walk i' th' sun. Conception is a
  blessing: but not as your daughter may conceive.
  Friend, look to 't.

      POLONIUS [Aside.]
   How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter:
  yet he knew me not at first; 'a said I was a fishmonger.
  'A is far gone, far gone: and truly in my youth I
  suffered much extremity for love—very near this. I'll
  speak to him again.—What do you read, my lord?

      HAMLET
  Words, words, words.