joyce on facts

Re all the facts and judicial processes we've been discussing, this passage from Finnegans Wake came to mind:

Thus the unfacts, did we possess them, are too imprecisely few to warrant our certitude, the evidencegivers by legpoll too untrustworthily irreperible where his adjugers are semmingly freak threes but his judicandees plainly minus two. Nevertheless Madam's Toshowus waxes largely more lifeliked (entrance, one kudos; exits, free) and our notional gullery is now completely complacent, an exegious monument, aerily perennious.

So much going on here: deed-poll becomes leg-pull, Horace's line Exegi monumentum aere perennius ('I have erected a monument more lasting than bronze') becomes a gutted shell (another crypt?). Earlier in the book we're told:

'in this scherzarade of one's thousand one nightiness that sword of certainty which would indentifide the body never falls'

notice the riff on Scheherazade: in lieu of pure fact/truth, we have endless narrative, at stake in which is a woman's life: if she stops narrating, she gets the chop!