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Ulysses by James Joyce

-- I --

Statelyplump Buck Mulligan came from the stairheadbearing a bowl of
lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown
ungirdledwas sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He
held the bowl aloft and intoned:


--INTROIBO AD ALTARE DEI.


Haltedhe peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely:


--Come upKinch! Come upyou fearful jesuit!


Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced
about and blessed gravely thrice the towerthe surrounding land and the
awaking mountains. Thencatching sight of Stephen Dedalushe bent
towards him and made rapid crosses in the airgurgling in his throat and
shaking his head. Stephen Dedalusdispleased and sleepyleaned his arms
on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face
that blessed himequine in its lengthand at the light untonsured hair
grained and hued like pale oak.


Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered
the bowl smartly.


--Back to barracks! he said sternly.


He added in a preacher's tone:


--For thisO dearly belovedis the genuine Christine: body and soul and
blood and ouns. Slow musicplease. Shut your eyesgents. One moment. A
little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silenceall.


He peered sideways up and gave a long slow whistle of callthen
paused awhile in rapt attentionhis even white teeth glistening here and
there with gold points. Chrysostomos. Two strong shrill whistles answered
through the calm.


--Thanksold chaphe cried briskly. That will do nicely. Switch off the
currentwill you?


He skipped off the gunrest and looked gravely at his watcher
gathering about his legs the loose folds of his gown. The plump shadowed
face and sullen oval jowl recalled a prelatepatron of arts in the middle
ages. A pleasant smile broke quietly over his lips.


--The mockery of it! he said gaily. Your absurd namean ancient Greek!


He pointed his finger in friendly jest and went over to the parapet
laughing to himself. Stephen Dedalus stepped upfollowed him wearily
halfway and sat down on the edge of the gunrestwatching him still as he
propped his mirror on the parapetdipped the brush in the bowl and
lathered cheeks and neck.



Buck Mulligan's gay voice went on.

--My name is absurd too: Malachi Mulligantwo dactyls. But it has a
Hellenic ringhasn't it? Tripping and sunny like the buck himself. We
must go to Athens. Will you come if I can get the aunt to fork out twenty
quid?

He laid the brush aside andlaughing with delightcried:

--Will he come? The jejune jesuit!

Ceasinghe began to shave with care.

--Tell meMulliganStephen said quietly.

--Yesmy love?

--How long is Haines going to stay in this tower?

Buck Mulligan showed a shaven cheek over his right shoulder.

--Godisn't he dreadful? he said frankly. A ponderous Saxon. He thinks
you're not a gentleman. Godthese bloody English! Bursting with money
and indigestion. Because he comes from Oxford. You knowDedalusyou
have the real Oxford manner. He can't make you out. Omy name for you
is the best: Kinchthe knife-blade.

He shaved warily over his chin.

--He was raving all night about a black pantherStephen said. Where is
his guncase?

--A woful lunatic! Mulligan said. Were you in a funk?

--I wasStephen said with energy and growing fear. Out here in the dark
with a man I don't know raving and moaning to himself about shooting a
black panther. You saved men from drowning. I'm not a herohowever. If
he stays on here I am off.

Buck Mulligan frowned at the lather on his razorblade. He hopped
down from his perch and began to search his trouser pockets hastily.

--Scutter! he cried thickly.

He came over to the gunrest andthrusting a hand into Stephen's
upper pocketsaid:

--Lend us a loan of your noserag to wipe my razor.

Stephen suffered him to pull out and hold up on show by its corner a
dirty crumpled handkerchief. Buck Mulligan wiped the razorblade neatly.
Thengazing over the handkerchiefhe said:

--The bard's noserag! A new art colour for our Irish poets: snotgreen.
You can almost taste itcan't you?

He mounted to the parapet again and gazed out over Dublin bayhis
fair oakpale hair stirring slightly.

--God! he said quietly. Isn't the sea what Algy calls it: a great sweet
mother? The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea. EPI OINOPA PONTON.
AhDedalusthe Greeks! I must teach you. You must read them in the
original. THALATTA! THALATTA! She is our great sweet mother. Come and
look.


Stephen stood up and went over to the parapet. Leaning on it he
looked down on the water and on the mailboat clearing the harbourmouth
of Kingstown.

--Our mighty mother! Buck Mulligan said.

He turned abruptly his grey searching eyes from the sea to Stephen's
face.

--The aunt thinks you killed your motherhe said. That's why she won't
let me have anything to do with you.

--Someone killed herStephen said gloomily.

--You could have knelt downdamn itKinchwhen your dying mother
asked youBuck Mulligan said. I'm hyperborean as much as you. But to
think of your mother begging you with her last breath to kneel down and
pray for her. And you refused. There is something sinister in you ...

He broke off and lathered again lightly his farther cheek. A tolerant
smile curled his lips.

--But a lovely mummer! he murmured to himself. Kinchthe loveliest
mummer of them all!

He shaved evenly and with carein silenceseriously.

Stephenan elbow rested on the jagged graniteleaned his palm
against his brow and gazed at the fraying edge of his shiny black
coat-sleeve. Painthat was not yet the pain of lovefretted his heart.
Silentlyin a dream she had come to him after her deathher wasted body
within its loose brown graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and
rosewoodher breaththat had bent upon himmutereproachfula faint
odour of wetted ashes. Across the threadbare cuffedge he saw the sea
hailed as a great sweet mother by the wellfed voice beside him. The ring
of bay and skyline held a dull green mass of liquid. A bowl of white china
had stood beside her deathbed holding the green sluggish bile which she
had torn up from her rotting liver by fits of loud groaning vomiting.

Buck Mulligan wiped again his razorblade.

--Ahpoor dogsbody! he said in a kind voice. I must give you a shirt and
a few noserags. How are the secondhand breeks?

--They fit well enoughStephen answered.

Buck Mulligan attacked the hollow beneath his underlip.

--The mockery of ithe said contentedly. Secondleg they should be. God
knows what poxy bowsy left them off. I have a lovely pair with a hair
stripegrey. You'll look spiffing in them. I'm not jokingKinch. You
look damn well when you're dressed.

--ThanksStephen said. I can't wear them if they are grey.

--He can't wear themBuck Mulligan told his face in the mirror.
Etiquette is etiquette. He kills his mother but he can't wear grey
trousers.

He folded his razor neatly and with stroking palps of fingers felt the
smooth skin.

Stephen turned his gaze from the sea and to the plump face with its


smokeblue mobile eyes.

--That fellow I was with in the Ship last nightsaid Buck Mulligansays
you have g.p.i. He's up in Dottyville with Connolly Norman. General
paralysis of the insane!

He swept the mirror a half circle in the air to flash the tidings abroad
in sunlight now radiant on the sea. His curling shaven lips laughed and
the edges of his white glittering teeth. Laughter seized all his strong
wellknit trunk.

--Look at yourselfhe saidyou dreadful bard!

Stephen bent forward and peered at the mirror held out to himcleft
by a crooked crack. Hair on end. As he and others see me. Who chose this
face for me? This dogsbody to rid of vermin. It asks me too.

--I pinched it out of the skivvy's roomBuck Mulligan said. It does her
all right. The aunt always keeps plainlooking servants for Malachi. Lead
him not into temptation. And her name is Ursula.

Laughing againhe brought the mirror away from Stephen's peering
eyes.

--The rage of Caliban at not seeing his face in a mirrorhe said. If
Wilde were only alive to see you!

Drawing back and pointingStephen said with bitterness:

--It is a symbol of Irish art. The cracked looking-glass of a servant.

Buck Mulligan suddenly linked his arm in Stephen's and walked with
him round the towerhis razor and mirror clacking in the pocket where he
had thrust them.

--It's not fair to tease you like thatKinchis it? he said kindly. God
knows you have more spirit than any of them.

Parried again. He fears the lancet of my art as I fear that of his. The
cold steelpen.

--Cracked lookingglass of a servant! Tell that to the oxy chap downstairs
and touch him for a guinea. He's stinking with money and thinks you're
not a gentleman. His old fellow made his tin by selling jalap to Zulus or
some bloody swindle or other. GodKinchif you and I could only work
together we might do something for the island. Hellenise it.

Cranly's arm. His arm.

--And to think of your having to beg from these swine. I'm the only one
that knows what you are. Why don't you trust me more? What have you up
your nose against me? Is it Haines? If he makes any noise here I'll bring
down Seymour and we'll give him a ragging worse than they gave Clive
Kempthorpe.

Young shouts of moneyed voices in Clive Kempthorpe's rooms. Palefaces:
they hold their ribs with laughterone clasping another. OI
shall expire! Break the news to her gentlyAubrey! I shall die! With slit
ribbons of his shirt whipping the air he hops and hobbles round the table
with trousers down at heelschased by Ades of Magdalen with the tailor's
shears. A scared calf's face gilded with marmalade. I don't want to be
debagged! Don't you play the giddy ox with me!

Shouts from the open window startling evening in the quadrangle. A


deaf gardenerapronedmasked with Matthew Arnold's facepushes his
mower on the sombre lawn watching narrowly the dancing motes of
grasshalms.

To ourselves ... new paganism ... omphalos.

--Let him stayStephen said. There's nothing wrong with him except at
night.

--Then what is it? Buck Mulligan asked impatiently. Cough it up. I'm
quite frank with you. What have you against me now?

They haltedlooking towards the blunt cape of Bray Head that lay on
the water like the snout of a sleeping whale. Stephen freed his arm
quietly.

--Do you wish me to tell you? he asked.

--Yeswhat is it? Buck Mulligan answered. I don't remember anything.

He looked in Stephen's face as he spoke. A light wind passed his
browfanning softly his fair uncombed hair and stirring silver points of
anxiety in his eyes.

Stephendepressed by his own voicesaid:

--Do you remember the first day I went to your house after my mother's
death?

Buck Mulligan frowned quickly and said:

--What? Where? I can't remember anything. I remember only ideas and
sensations. Why? What happened in the name of God?

--You were making teaStephen saidand went across the landing to get
more hot water. Your mother and some visitor came out of the
drawingroom. She asked you who was in your room.

--Yes? Buck Mulligan said. What did I say? I forget.

--You saidStephen answeredOIT'S ONLY DEDALUS WHOSE MOTHER IS
BEASTLY DEAD.

A flush which made him seem younger and more engaging rose to
Buck Mulligan's cheek.

--Did I say that? he asked. Well? What harm is that?

He shook his constraint from him nervously.

--And what is deathhe askedyour mother's or yours or my own? You
saw only your mother die. I see them pop off every day in the Mater and
Richmond and cut up into tripes in the dissectingroom. It's a beastly
thing and nothing else. It simply doesn't matter. You wouldn't kneel down
to pray for your mother on her deathbed when she asked you. Why? Because
you have the cursed jesuit strain in youonly it's injected the wrong
way. To me it's all a mockery and beastly. Her cerebral lobes are not
functioning. She calls the doctor sir Peter Teazle and picks buttercups
off the quilt. Humour her till it's over. You crossed her last wish in
death and yet you sulk with me because I don't whinge like some hired mute
from Lalouette's. Absurd! I suppose I did say it. I didn't mean to offend
the memory of your mother.

He had spoken himself into boldness. Stephenshielding the gaping


wounds which the words had left in his heartsaid very coldly:

--I am not thinking of the offence to my mother.

--Of what then? Buck Mulligan asked.

--Of the offence to meStephen answered.

Buck Mulligan swung round on his heel.

--Oan impossible person! he exclaimed.

He walked off quickly round the parapet. Stephen stood at his post
gazing over the calm sea towards the headland. Sea and headland now
grew dim. Pulses were beating in his eyesveiling their sightand he
felt the fever of his cheeks.

A voice within the tower called loudly:

--Are you up thereMulligan?

--I'm comingBuck Mulligan answered.

He turned towards Stephen and said:

--Look at the sea. What does it care about offences? Chuck LoyolaKinch
and come on down. The Sassenach wants his morning rashers.

His head halted again for a moment at the top of the staircaselevel
with the roof:

--Don't mope over it all dayhe said. I'm inconsequent. Give up the
moody brooding.

His head vanished but the drone of his descending voice boomed out
of the stairhead:

AND NO MORE TURN ASIDE AND BROOD
UPON LOVE'S BITTER MYSTERY
FOR FERGUS RULES THE BRAZEN CARS.


Woodshadows floated silently by through the morning peace from the
stairhead seaward where he gazed. Inshore and farther out the mirror of
water whitenedspurned by lightshod hurrying feet. White breast of the
dim sea. The twining stressestwo by two. A hand plucking the
harpstringsmerging their twining chords. Wavewhite wedded words
shimmering on the dim tide.

A cloud began to cover the sun slowlywhollyshadowing the bay in
deeper green. It lay beneath hima bowl of bitter waters. Fergus' song: I
sang it alone in the householding down the long dark chords. Her door
was open: she wanted to hear my music. Silent with awe and pity I went to
her bedside. She was crying in her wretched bed. For those wordsStephen:
love's bitter mystery.

Where now?

Her secrets: old featherfanstasselled dancecardspowdered with
muska gaud of amber beads in her locked drawer. A birdcage hung in the
sunny window of her house when she was a girl. She heard old Royce sing
in the pantomime of Turko the Terrible and laughed with others when he
sang:


I AM THE BOY
THAT CAN ENJOY
INVISIBILITY.


Phantasmal mirthfolded away: muskperfumed.

AND NO MORE TURN ASIDE AND BROOD.

Folded away in the memory of nature with her toys. Memories beset
his brooding brain. Her glass of water from the kitchen tap when she had
approached the sacrament. A cored applefilled with brown sugarroasting
for her at the hob on a dark autumn evening. Her shapely fingernails
reddened by the blood of squashed lice from the children's shirts.

In a dreamsilentlyshe had come to himher wasted body within its
loose graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewoodher breath
bent over him with mute secret wordsa faint odour of wetted ashes.

Her glazing eyesstaring out of deathto shake and bend my soul. On
me alone. The ghostcandle to light her agony. Ghostly light on the
tortured face. Her hoarse loud breath rattling in horrorwhile all prayed
on their knees. Her eyes on me to strike me down. LILIATA RUTILANTIUM TE
CONFESSORUM TURMA CIRCUMDET: IUBILANTIUM TE VIRGINUM CHORUS EXCIPIAT.

Ghoul! Chewer of corpses!

Nomother! Let me be and let me live.

--Kinch ahoy!

Buck Mulligan's voice sang from within the tower. It came nearer up
the staircasecalling again. Stephenstill trembling at his soul's cry
heard warm running sunlight and in the air behind him friendly words.

--Dedaluscome downlike a good mosey. Breakfast is ready. Haines is
apologising for waking us last night. It's all right.

--I'm comingStephen saidturning.

--Dofor Jesus' sakeBuck Mulligan said. For my sake and for all our
sakes.

His head disappeared and reappeared.

--I told him your symbol of Irish art. He says it's very clever. Touch
him for a quidwill you? A guineaI mean.

--I get paid this morningStephen said.

--The school kip? Buck Mulligan said. How much? Four quid? Lend us
one.

--If you want itStephen said.

--Four shining sovereignsBuck Mulligan cried with delight. We'll have a
glorious drunk to astonish the druidy druids. Four omnipotent sovereigns.

He flung up his hands and tramped down the stone stairssinging out
of tune with a Cockney accent:


OWON'T WE HAVE A MERRY TIME

DRINKING WHISKYBEER AND WINE!

ON CORONATION

CORONATION DAY!

OWON'T WE HAVE A MERRY TIME

ON CORONATION DAY!

Warm sunshine merrying over the sea. The nickel shavingbowl shone
forgottenon the parapet. Why should I bring it down? Or leave it there
all dayforgotten friendship?

He went over to itheld it in his hands awhilefeeling its coolness
smelling the clammy slaver of the lather in which the brush was stuck. So
I carried the boat of incense then at Clongowes. I am another now and yet
the same. A servant too. A server of a servant.

In the gloomy domed livingroom of the tower Buck Mulligan's
gowned form moved briskly to and fro about the hearthhiding and
revealing its yellow glow. Two shafts of soft daylight fell across the
flagged floor from the high barbacans: and at the meeting of their rays a
cloud of coalsmoke and fumes of fried grease floatedturning.

--We'll be chokedBuck Mulligan said. Hainesopen that doorwill you?

Stephen laid the shavingbowl on the locker. A tall figure rose from the
hammock where it had been sittingwent to the doorway and pulled open
the inner doors.

--Have you the key? a voice asked.

--Dedalus has itBuck Mulligan said. Janey MackI'm choked!

He howledwithout looking up from the fire:

--Kinch!

--It's in the lockStephen saidcoming forward.

The key scraped round harshly twice andwhen the heavy door had
been set ajarwelcome light and bright air entered. Haines stood at the
doorwaylooking out. Stephen haled his upended valise to the table and
sat down to wait. Buck Mulligan tossed the fry on to the dish beside him.
Then he carried the dish and a large teapot over to the tableset them
down heavily and sighed with relief.

--I'm meltinghe saidas the candle remarked when ... Buthush! Not a
word more on that subject! Kinchwake up! Breadbutterhoney. Haines
come in. The grub is ready. Bless usO Lordand these thy gifts. Where's
the sugar? Ojaythere's no milk.

Stephen fetched the loaf and the pot of honey and the buttercooler
from the locker. Buck Mulligan sat down in a sudden pet.

--What sort of a kip is this? he said. I told her to come after eight.

--We can drink it blackStephen said thirstily. There's a lemon in the
locker.

--Odamn you and your Paris fads! Buck Mulligan said. I want Sandycove
milk.


Haines came in from the doorway and said quietly:

--That woman is coming up with the milk.

--The blessings of God on you! Buck Mulligan criedjumping up from his
chair. Sit down. Pour out the tea there. The sugar is in the bag. HereI
can't go fumbling at the damned eggs.

He hacked through the fry on the dish and slapped it out on three
platessaying:

--IN NOMINE PATRIS ET FILII ET SPIRITUS SANCTI.

Haines sat down to pour out the tea.

--I'm giving you two lumps eachhe said. ButI sayMulliganyou do
make strong teadon't you?

Buck Mulliganhewing thick slices from the loafsaid in an old
woman's wheedling voice:

--When I makes tea I makes teaas old mother Grogan said. And when I
makes water I makes water.

--By Joveit is teaHaines said.

Buck Mulligan went on hewing and wheedling:

--SO I DOMRS CAHILLsays she. BEGOBMA'AMsays Mrs CahillGOD SEND
YOU DON'T MAKE THEM IN THE ONE POT.

He lunged towards his messmates in turn a thick slice of bread
impaled on his knife.

--That's folkhe said very earnestlyfor your bookHaines. Five lines
of text and ten pages of notes about the folk and the fishgods of Dundrum.
Printed by the weird sisters in the year of the big wind.

He turned to Stephen and asked in a fine puzzled voicelifting his
brows:

--Can you recallbrotheris mother Grogan's tea and water pot spoken of
in the Mabinogion or is it in the Upanishads?

--I doubt itsaid Stephen gravely.

--Do you now? Buck Mulligan said in the same tone. Your reasonspray?

--I fancyStephen said as he ateit did not exist in or out of the
Mabinogion. Mother Grogan wasone imaginesa kinswoman of Mary
Ann.

Buck Mulligan's face smiled with delight.

--Charming! he said in a finical sweet voiceshowing his white teeth and
blinking his eyes pleasantly. Do you think she was? Quite charming!

Thensuddenly overclouding all his featureshe growled in a
hoarsened rasping voice as he hewed again vigorously at the loaf:

--FOR OLD MARY ANN
SHE DOESN'T CARE A DAMN.
BUTHISING UP HER PETTICOATS ...



He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned.

The doorway was darkened by an entering form.

--The milksir!

--Come inma'amMulligan said. Kinchget the jug.

An old woman came forward and stood by Stephen's elbow.

--That's a lovely morningsirshe said. Glory be to God.

--To whom? Mulligan saidglancing at her. Ahto be sure!

Stephen reached back and took the milkjug from the locker.

--The islandersMulligan said to Haines casuallyspeak frequently of
the collector of prepuces.

--How muchsir? asked the old woman.

--A quartStephen said.

He watched her pour into the measure and thence into the jug rich
white milknot hers. Old shrunken paps. She poured again a measureful
and a tilly. Old and secret she had entered from a morning worldmaybe a
messenger. She praised the goodness of the milkpouring it out. Crouching
by a patient cow at daybreak in the lush fielda witch on her toadstool
her wrinkled fingers quick at the squirting dugs. They lowed about her
whom they knewdewsilky cattle. Silk of the kine and poor old woman
names given her in old times. A wandering cronelowly form of an immortal
serving her conqueror and her gay betrayertheir common cuckqueana
messenger from the secret morning. To serve or to upbraidwhether he
could not tell: but scorned to beg her favour.

--It is indeedma'amBuck Mulligan saidpouring milk into their cups.

--Taste itsirshe said.

He drank at her bidding.

--If we could live on good food like thathe said to her somewhat
loudlywe wouldn't have the country full of rotten teeth and rotten guts.
Living in a bogswampeating cheap food and the streets paved with dust
horsedung and consumptives' spits.

--Are you a medical studentsir? the old woman asked.

--I amma'amBuck Mulligan answered.

--Look at that nowshe said.

Stephen listened in scornful silence. She bows her old head to a voice
that speaks to her loudlyher bonesetterher medicineman: me she
slights. To the voice that will shrive and oil for the grave all there is
of her but her woman's unclean loinsof man's flesh made not in God's
likenessthe serpent's prey. And to the loud voice that now bids her be
silent with wondering unsteady eyes.

--Do you understand what he says? Stephen asked her.

--Is it French you are talkingsir? the old woman said to Haines.


Haines spoke to her again a longer speechconfidently.

--IrishBuck Mulligan said. Is there Gaelic on you?

--I thought it was Irishshe saidby the sound of it. Are you from the
westsir?

--I am an EnglishmanHaines answered.

--He's EnglishBuck Mulligan saidand he thinks we ought to speak Irish
in Ireland.

--Sure we ought tothe old woman saidand I'm ashamed I don't speak the
language myself. I'm told it's a grand language by them that knows.

--Grand is no name for itsaid Buck Mulligan. Wonderful entirely. Fill
us out some more teaKinch. Would you like a cupma'am?

--Nothank yousirthe old woman saidslipping the ring of the
milkcan on her forearm and about to go.

Haines said to her:

--Have you your bill? We had better pay herMulliganhadn't we?

Stephen filled again the three cups.

--Billsir? she saidhalting. Wellit's seven mornings a pint at
twopence is seven twos is a shilling and twopence over and these three
mornings a quart at fourpence is three quarts is a shilling. That's a
shilling and one and two is two and twosir.

Buck Mulligan sighed andhaving filled his mouth with a crust
thickly buttered on both sidesstretched forth his legs and began to
search his trouser pockets.

--Pay up and look pleasantHaines said to himsmiling.

Stephen filled a third cupa spoonful of tea colouring faintly the thick
rich milk. Buck Mulligan brought up a florintwisted it round in his
fingers and cried:

--A miracle!

He passed it along the table towards the old womansaying:

--Ask nothing more of mesweet. All I can give you I give.

Stephen laid the coin in her uneager hand.

--We'll owe twopencehe said.

--Time enoughsirshe saidtaking the coin. Time enough. Good morning
sir.

She curtseyed and went outfollowed by Buck Mulligan's tender
chant:

--HEART OF MY HEARTWERE IT MORE
MORE WOULD BE LAID AT YOUR FEET.



He turned to Stephen and said:

--SeriouslyDedalus. I'm stony. Hurry out to your school kip and bring
us back some money. Today the bards must drink and junket. Ireland expects
that every man this day will do his duty.

--That reminds meHaines saidrisingthat I have to visit your
national library today.

--Our swim firstBuck Mulligan said.
He turned to Stephen and asked blandly:

--Is this the day for your monthly washKinch?
Then he said to Haines:

--The unclean bard makes a point of washing once a month.

--All Ireland is washed by the gulfstreamStephen said as he let honey
trickle over a slice of the loaf.

Haines from the corner where he was knotting easily a scarf about
the loose collar of his tennis shirt spoke:

--I intend to make a collection of your sayings if you will let me.

Speaking to me. They wash and tub and scrub. Agenbite of inwit.
Conscience. Yet here's a spot.

--That one about the cracked lookingglass of a servant being the symbol
of Irish art is deuced good.

Buck Mulligan kicked Stephen's foot under the table and said with
warmth of tone:

--Wait till you hear him on HamletHaines.

--WellI mean itHaines saidstill speaking to Stephen. I was just
thinking of it when that poor old creature came in.

--Would I make any money by it? Stephen asked.

Haines laughed andas he took his soft grey hat from the holdfast of
the hammocksaid:
--I don't knowI'm sure.


He strolled out to the doorway. Buck Mulligan bent across to Stephen
and said with coarse vigour:

--You put your hoof in it now. What did you say that for?

--Well? Stephen said. The problem is to get money. From whom? From the
milkwoman or from him. It's a toss upI think.

--I blow him out about youBuck Mulligan saidand then you come along
with your lousy leer and your gloomy jesuit jibes.

--I see little hopeStephen saidfrom her or from him.

Buck Mulligan sighed tragically and laid his hand on Stephen's arm.
--From meKinchhe said.


In a suddenly changed tone he added:

--To tell you the God's truth I think you're right. Damn all else they
are good for. Why don't you play them as I do? To hell with them all. Let
us get out of the kip.

He stood upgravely ungirdled and disrobed himself of his gown
saying resignedly:

--Mulligan is stripped of his garments.

He emptied his pockets on to the table.

--There's your snotraghe said.

And putting on his stiff collar and rebellious tie he spoke to them
chiding themand to his dangling watchchain. His hands plunged and
rummaged in his trunk while he called for a clean handkerchief. Godwe'll
simply have to dress the character. I want puce gloves and green boots.
Contradiction. Do I contradict myself? Very well thenI contradict
myself. Mercurial Malachi. A limp black missile flew out of his talking
hands.

--And there's your Latin quarter hathe said.

Stephen picked it up and put it on. Haines called to them from the
doorway:

--Are you comingyou fellows?

--I'm readyBuck Mulligan answeredgoing towards the door. Come out
Kinch. You have eaten all we leftI suppose. Resigned he passed out with
grave words and gaitsayingwellnigh with sorrow:

--And going forth he met Butterly.

Stephentaking his ashplant from its leaningplacefollowed them out
andas they went down the ladderpulled to the slow iron door and locked
it. He put the huge key in his inner pocket.

At the foot of the ladder Buck Mulligan asked:

--Did you bring the key?

--I have itStephen saidpreceding them.

He walked on. Behind him he heard Buck Mulligan club with his heavy
bathtowel the leader shoots of ferns or grasses.

--Downsir! How dare yousir!

Haines asked:

--Do you pay rent for this tower?

--Twelve quidBuck Mulligan said.

--To the secretary of state for warStephen added over his shoulder.

They halted while Haines surveyed the tower and said at last:

--Rather bleak in wintertimeI should say. Martello you call it?


--Billy Pitt had them builtBuck Mulligan saidwhen the French were on
the sea. But ours is the omphalos.

--What is your idea of Hamlet? Haines asked Stephen.

--NonoBuck Mulligan shouted in pain. I'm not equal to Thomas
Aquinas and the fiftyfive reasons he has made out to prop it up. Wait till
I have a few pints in me first.

He turned to Stephensayingas he pulled down neatly the peaks of
his primrose waistcoat:

--You couldn't manage it under three pintsKinchcould you?

--It has waited so longStephen said listlesslyit can wait longer.

--You pique my curiosityHaines said amiably. Is it some paradox?

--Pooh! Buck Mulligan said. We have grown out of Wilde and paradoxes.
It's quite simple. He proves by algebra that Hamlet's grandson is
Shakespeare's grandfather and that he himself is the ghost of his own
father.

--What? Haines saidbeginning to point at Stephen. He himself?

Buck Mulligan slung his towel stolewise round his neck andbending
in loose laughtersaid to Stephen's ear:

--Oshade of Kinch the elder! Japhet in search of a father!

--We're always tired in the morningStephen said to Haines. And it is
rather long to tell.

Buck Mulliganwalking forward againraised his hands.

--The sacred pint alone can unbind the tongue of Dedalushe said.

--I mean to sayHaines explained to Stephen as they followedthis tower
and these cliffs here remind me somehow of Elsinore. THAT BEETLES O'ER HIS
BASE INTO THE SEAISN'T IT?

Buck Mulligan turned suddenly. for an instant towards Stephen but
did not speak. In the bright silent instant Stephen saw his own image in
cheap dusty mourning between their gay attires.

--It's a wonderful taleHaines saidbringing them to halt again.

Eyespale as the sea the wind had freshenedpalerfirm and prudent.
The seas' rulerhe gazed southward over the bayempty save for the
smokeplume of the mailboat vague on the bright skyline and a sail tacking
by the Muglins.

--I read a theological interpretation of it somewherehe said bemused.
The Father and the Son idea. The Son striving to be atoned with the
Father.

Buck Mulligan at once put on a blithe broadly smiling face. He
looked at themhis wellshaped mouth open happilyhis eyesfrom which he
had suddenly withdrawn all shrewd senseblinking with mad gaiety. He
moved a doll's head to and frothe brims of his Panama hat quiveringand
began to chant in a quiet happy foolish voice:

--I'M THE QUEEREST YOUNG FELLOW THAT EVER YOU HEARD.


MY MOTHER'S A JEWMY FATHER'S A BIRD.
WITH JOSEPH THE JOINER I CANNOT AGREE.
SO HERE'S TO DISCIPLES AND CALVARY.


He held up a forefinger of warning.

--IF ANYONE THINKS THAT I AMN'T DIVINE
HE'LL GET NO FREE DRINKS WHEN I'M MAKING THE WINE
BUT HAVE TO DRINK WATER AND WISH IT WERE PLAIN
THAT I MAKE WHEN THE WINE BECOMES WATER AGAIN.


He tugged swiftly at Stephen's ashplant in farewell andrunning
forward to a brow of the clifffluttered his hands at his sides like fins
or wings of one about to rise in the airand chanted:

--GOODBYENOWGOODBYE! WRITE DOWN ALL I SAID
AND TELL TOMDIEK AND HARRY I ROSE FROM THE DEAD.
WHAT'S BRED IN THE BONE CANNOT FAIL ME TO FLY
AND OLIVET'S BREEZY ... GOODBYENOWGOODBYE!


He capered before them down towards the fortyfoot holefluttering
his winglike handsleaping nimblyMercury's hat quivering in the fresh
wind that bore back to them his brief birdsweet cries.

Haineswho had been laughing guardedlywalked on beside Stephen
and said:

--We oughtn't to laughI suppose. He's rather blasphemous. I'm not a
believer myselfthat is to say. Still his gaiety takes the harm out of it
somehowdoesn't it? What did he call it? Joseph the Joiner?

--The ballad of joking JesusStephen answered.

--OHaines saidyou have heard it before?

--Three times a dayafter mealsStephen said drily.

--You're not a believerare you? Haines asked. I meana believer in the
narrow sense of the word. Creation from nothing and miracles and a
personal God.

--There's only one sense of the wordit seems to meStephen said.

Haines stopped to take out a smooth silver case in which twinkled a
green stone. He sprang it open with his thumb and offered it.

--Thank youStephen saidtaking a cigarette.

Haines helped himself and snapped the case to. He put it back in his
sidepocket and took from his waistcoatpocket a nickel tinderboxsprang it
open tooandhaving lit his cigaretteheld the flaming spunk towards
Stephen in the shell of his hands.

--Yesof coursehe saidas they went on again. Either you believe or
you don'tisn't it? Personally I couldn't stomach that idea of a personal
God. You don't stand for thatI suppose?

--You behold in meStephen said with grim displeasurea horrible
example of free thought.


He walked onwaiting to be spoken totrailing his ashplant by his
side. Its ferrule followed lightly on the pathsquealing at his heels. My
familiarafter mecallingSteeeeeeeeeeeephen! A wavering line along the
path. They will walk on it tonightcoming here in the dark. He wants that
key. It is mine. I paid the rent. Now I eat his salt bread. Give him the
key too. All. He will ask for it. That was in his eyes.

--After allHaines began ...

Stephen turned and saw that the cold gaze which had measured him
was not all unkind.

--After allI should think you are able to free yourself. You are your
own masterit seems to me.

--I am a servant of two mastersStephen saidan English and an Italian.

--Italian? Haines said.

A crazy queenold and jealous. Kneel down before me.

--And a thirdStephen saidthere is who wants me for odd jobs.

--Italian? Haines said again. What do you mean?

--The imperial British stateStephen answeredhis colour risingand
the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church.

Haines detached from his underlip some fibres of tobacco before he
spoke.

--I can quite understand thathe said calmly. An Irishman must think
like thatI daresay. We feel in England that we have treated you rather
unfairly. It seems history is to blame.

The proud potent titles clanged over Stephen's memory the triumph
of their brazen bells: ET UNAM SANCTAM CATHOLICAM ET APOSTOLICAM
ECCLESIAM: the slow growth and change of rite and dogma like his own rare
thoughtsa chemistry of stars. Symbol of the apostles in the mass for
pope Marcellusthe voices blendedsinging alone loud in affirmation: and
behind their chant the vigilant angel of the church militant disarmed and
menaced her heresiarchs. A horde of heresies fleeing with mitres awry:
Photius and the brood of mockers of whom Mulligan was oneand Arius
warring his life long upon the consubstantiality of the Son with the
Fatherand Valentinespurning Christ's terrene bodyand the subtle
African heresiarch Sabellius who held that the Father was Himself His own
Son. Words Mulligan had spoken a moment since in mockery to the stranger.
Idle mockery. The void awaits surely all them that weave the wind: a
menacea disarming and a worsting from those embattled angels of the
churchMichael's hostwho defend her ever in the hour of conflict with
their lances and their shields.

Hearhear! Prolonged applause. ZUT! NOM DE DIEU!

--Of course I'm a BritisherHaines's voice saidand I feel as one. I
don't want to see my country fall into the hands of German jews either.
That's our national problemI'm afraidjust now.

Two men stood at the verge of the cliffwatching: businessman
boatman.

--She's making for Bullock harbour.


The boatman nodded towards the north of the bay with some disdain.


--There's five fathoms out therehe said. It'll be swept up that way
when the tide comes in about one. It's nine days today.


The man that was drowned. A sail veering about the blank bay
waiting for a swollen bundle to bob uproll over to the sun a puffy face
saltwhite. Here I am.


They followed the winding path down to the creek. Buck Mulligan
stood on a stonein shirtsleeveshis unclipped tie rippling over his
shoulder. A young man clinging to a spur of rock near himmoved slowly
frogwise his green legs in the deep jelly of the water.


--Is the brother with youMalachi?


--Down in Westmeath. With the Bannons.


--Still there? I got a card from Bannon. Says he found a sweet young
thing down there. Photo girl he calls her.


--Snapshoteh? Brief exposure.


Buck Mulligan sat down to unlace his boots. An elderly man shot up
near the spur of rock a blowing red face. He scrambled up by the stones
water glistening on his pate and on its garland of grey hairwater
rilling over his chest and paunch and spilling jets out of his black
sagging loincloth.


Buck Mulligan made way for him to scramble past andglancing at
Haines and Stephencrossed himself piously with his thumbnail at brow
and lips and breastbone.


--Seymour's back in townthe young man saidgrasping again his spur of
rock. Chucked medicine and going in for the army.


--Ahgo to God! Buck Mulligan said.


--Going over next week to stew. You know that red Carlisle girlLily?


--Yes.


--Spooning with him last night on the pier. The father is rotto with
money.


--Is she up the pole?


--Better ask Seymour that.


--Seymour a bleeding officer! Buck Mulligan said.


He nodded to himself as he drew off his trousers and stood upsaying
tritely:


--Redheaded women buck like goats.


He broke off in alarmfeeling his side under his flapping shirt.


--My twelfth rib is gonehe cried. I'm the UBERMENCH. Toothless Kinch
and Ithe supermen.


He struggled out of his shirt and flung it behind him to where his
clothes lay.



--Are you going in hereMalachi?

--Yes. Make room in the bed.

The young man shoved himself backward through the water and
reached the middle of the creek in two long clean strokes. Haines sat down
on a stonesmoking.

--Are you not coming in? Buck Mulligan asked.

--Later onHaines said. Not on my breakfast.

Stephen turned away.

--I'm goingMulliganhe said.

--Give us that keyKinchBuck Mulligan saidto keep my chemise flat.

Stephen handed him the key. Buck Mulligan laid it across his heaped
clothes.

--And twopencehe saidfor a pint. Throw it there.

Stephen threw two pennies on the soft heap. Dressingundressing.
Buck Mulligan erectwith joined hands before himsaid solemnly:

--He who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord. Thus spake
Zarathustra.

His plump body plunged.

--We'll see you againHaines saidturning as Stephen walked up the path
and smiling at wild Irish.

Horn of a bullhoof of a horsesmile of a Saxon.

--The ShipBuck Mulligan cried. Half twelve.

--GoodStephen said.

He walked along the upwardcurving path.

LILIATA RUTILANTIUM.
TURMA CIRCUMDET.
IUBILANTIUM TE VIRGINUM.


The priest's grey nimbus in a niche where he dressed discreetly. I will
not sleep here tonight. Home also I cannot go.


A voicesweettoned and sustainedcalled to him from the sea.
Turning the curve he waved his hand. It called again. A sleek brown head
a seal'sfar out on the waterround.


Usurper.


* * * * * * *

--YouCochranewhat city sent for him?


--Tarentumsir.

--Very good. Well?

--There was a battlesir.

--Very good. Where?

The boy's blank face asked the blank window.

Fabled by the daughters of memory. And yet it was in some way if not
as memory fabled it. A phrasethenof impatiencethud of Blake's wings
of excess. I hear the ruin of all spaceshattered glass and toppling
masonryand time one livid final flame. What's left us then?


--I forget the placesir. 279 B. C.


--AsculumStephen saidglancing at the name and date in the gorescarred
book.


--Yessir. And he said: ANOTHER VICTORY LIKE THAT AND WE ARE DONE FOR.


That phrase the world had remembered. A dull ease of the mind.
From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his officers
leaned upon his spear. Any general to any officers. They lend ear.


--YouArmstrongStephen said. What was the end of Pyrrhus?


--End of Pyrrhussir?


--I knowsir. Ask mesirComyn said.


--Wait. YouArmstrong. Do you know anything about Pyrrhus?


A bag of figrolls lay snugly in Armstrong's satchel. He curled them
between his palms at whiles and swallowed them softly. Crumbs adhered to
the tissue of his lips. A sweetened boy's breath. Welloff peopleproud
that their eldest son was in the navy. Vico roadDalkey.


--Pyrrhussir? Pyrrhusa pier.


All laughed. Mirthless high malicious laughter. Armstrong looked
round at his classmatessilly glee in profile. In a moment they will
laugh more loudlyaware of my lack of rule and of the fees their papas
pay.


--Tell me nowStephen saidpoking the boy's shoulder with the book
what is a pier.


--A piersirArmstrong said. A thing out in the water. A kind of a
bridge. Kingstown piersir.


Some laughed again: mirthless but with meaning. Two in the back
bench whispered. Yes. They knew: had never learned nor ever been
innocent. All. With envy he watched their faces: EdithEthelGerty
Lily. Their likes: their breathstoosweetened with tea and jamtheir
bracelets tittering in the struggle.


--Kingstown pierStephen said. Yesa disappointed bridge.


The words troubled their gaze.


--Howsir? Comyn asked. A bridge is across a river.



For Haines's chapbook. No-one here to hear. Tonight deftly amid
wild drink and talkto pierce the polished mail of his mind. What then? A
jester at the court of his masterindulged and disesteemedwinning a
clement master's praise. Why had they chosen all that part? Not wholly for
the smooth caress. For them too history was a tale like any other too
often heardtheir land a pawnshop.

Had Pyrrhus not fallen by a beldam's hand in Argos or Julius Caesar
not been knifed to death. They are not to be thought away. Time has
branded them and fettered they are lodged in the room of the infinite
possibilities they have ousted. But can those have been possible seeing
that they never were? Or was that only possible which came to pass? Weave
weaver of the wind.

--Tell us a storysir.

--Odosir. A ghoststory.

--Where do you begin in this? Stephen askedopening another book.

--WEEP NO MOREComyn said.

--Go on thenTalbot.

--And the storysir?

--AfterStephen said. Go onTalbot.

A swarthy boy opened a book and propped it nimbly under the
breastwork of his satchel. He recited jerks of verse with odd glances at
the text:

--WEEP NO MOREWOFUL SHEPHERDSWEEP NO MORE
FOR LYCIDASYOUR SORROWIS NOT DEAD
SUNK THOUGH HE BE BENEATH THE WATERY FLOOR ...


It must be a movement thenan actuality of the possible as possible.
Aristotle's phrase formed itself within the gabbled verses and floated out
into the studious silence of the library of Saint Genevieve where he had
readsheltered from the sin of Parisnight by night. By his elbow a
delicate Siamese conned a handbook of strategy. Fed and feeding brains
about me: under glowlampsimpaledwith faintly beating feelers: and in
my mind's darkness a sloth of the underworldreluctantshy of
brightnessshifting her dragon scaly folds. Thought is the thought of
thought. Tranquil brightness. The soul is in a manner all that is: the
soul is the form of forms. Tranquility suddenvastcandescent: form of
forms.

Talbot repeated:

--THROUGH THE DEAR MIGHT OF HIM THAT WALKED THE WAVES
THROUGH THE DEAR MIGHT ...


--Turn overStephen said quietly. I don't see anything.

--Whatsir? Talbot asked simplybending forward.

His hand turned the page over. He leaned back and went on again
having just remembered. Of him that walked the waves. Here also over


these craven hearts his shadow lies and on the scoffer's heart and lips
and on mine. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a coin of the
tribute. To Caesar what is Caesar'sto God what is God's. A long look
from dark eyesa riddling sentence to be woven and woven on the church's
looms. Ay.

RIDDLE MERIDDLE MERANDY RO.

MY FATHER GAVE ME SEEDS TO SOW.

Talbot slid his closed book into his satchel.

--Have I heard all? Stephen asked.

--Yessir. Hockey at tensir.

--Half daysir. Thursday.

--Who can answer a riddle? Stephen asked.

They bundled their books awaypencils clackingpages rustling.
Crowding together they strapped and buckled their satchelsall gabbling
gaily:

--A riddlesir? Ask mesir.

--Oask mesir.

--A hard onesir.

--This is the riddleStephen said:

THE COCK CREW

THE SKY WAS BLUE:

THE BELLS IN HEAVEN

WERE STRIKING ELEVEN.

'TIS TIME FOR THIS POOR SOUL

TO GO TO HEAVEN.

What is that?

--Whatsir?

--Againsir. We didn't hear.

Their eyes grew bigger as the lines were repeated. After a silence
Cochrane said:

--What is itsir? We give it up.

Stephenhis throat itchinganswered:

--The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush.

He stood up and gave a shout of nervous laughter to which their cries
echoed dismay.

A stick struck the door and a voice in the corridor called:

--Hockey!


They broke asundersidling out of their benchesleaping them.
Quickly they were gone and from the lumberroom came the rattle of sticks
and clamour of their boots and tongues.


Sargent who alone had lingered came forward slowlyshowing an
open copybook. His thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of
unreadiness and through his misty glasses weak eyes looked up pleading.
On his cheekdull and bloodlessa soft stain of ink laydateshaped
recent and damp as a snail's bed.


He held out his copybook. The word SUMS was written on the
headline. Beneath were sloping figures and at the foot a crooked signature
with blind loops and a blot. Cyril Sargent: his name and seal.


--Mr Deasy told me to write them out all againhe saidand show them to
yousir.


Stephen touched the edges of the book. Futility.


--Do you understand how to do them now? he asked.


--Numbers eleven to fifteenSargent answered. Mr Deasy said I was to
copy them off the boardsir.


--Can you do them. yourself? Stephen asked.


--Nosir.


Ugly and futile: lean neck and thick hair and a stain of inka snail's
bed. Yet someone had loved himborne him in her arms and in her heart.
But for her the race of the world would have trampled him underfoota
squashed boneless snail. She had loved his weak watery blood drained from
her own. Was that then real? The only true thing in life? His mother's
prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode. She was no
more: the trembling skeleton of a twig burnt in the firean odour of
rosewood and wetted ashes. She had saved him from being trampled
underfoot and had gonescarcely having been. A poor soul gone to heaven:
and on a heath beneath winking stars a foxred reek of rapine in his fur
with merciless bright eyes scraped in the earthlistenedscraped up the
earthlistenedscraped and scraped.


Sitting at his side Stephen solved out the problem. He proves by
algebra that Shakespeare's ghost is Hamlet's grandfather. Sargent peered
askance through his slanted glasses. Hockeysticks rattled in the
lumberroom: the hollow knock of a ball and calls from the field.


Across the page the symbols moved in grave morricein the mummery
of their letterswearing quaint caps of squares and cubes. Give hands
traversebow to partner: so: imps of fancy of the Moors. Gone too from
the worldAverroes and Moses Maimonidesdark men in mien and
movementflashing in their mocking mirrors the obscure soul of the
worlda darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not
comprehend.


--Do you understand now? Can you work the second for yourself?


--Yessir.


In long shaky strokes Sargent copied the data. Waiting always for a
word of help his hand moved faithfully the unsteady symbolsa faint hue
of shame flickering behind his dull skin. AMOR MATRIS: subjective and
objective genitive. With her weak blood and wheysour milk she had fed him
and hid from sight of others his swaddling bands.



Like him was Ithese sloping shouldersthis gracelessness. My
childhood bends beside me. Too far for me to lay a hand there once or
lightly. Mine is far and his secret as our eyes. Secretssilentstony
sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their
tyranny: tyrantswilling to be dethroned.

The sum was done.

--It is very simpleStephen said as he stood up.

--Yessir. ThanksSargent answered.

He dried the page with a sheet of thin blottingpaper and carried his
copybook back to his bench.

--You had better get your stick and go out to the othersStephen said as
he followed towards the door the boy's graceless form.

--Yessir.

In the corridor his name was heardcalled from the playfield.

--Sargent!

--Run onStephen said. Mr Deasy is calling you.

He stood in the porch and watched the laggard hurry towards the
scrappy field where sharp voices were in strife. They were sorted in teams
and Mr Deasy came away stepping over wisps of grass with gaitered feet.
When he had reached the schoolhouse voices again contending called to
him. He turned his angry white moustache.

--What is it now? he cried continually without listening.

--Cochrane and Halliday are on the same sidesirStephen said.

--Will you wait in my study for a momentMr Deasy saidtill I restore
order here.

And as he stepped fussily back across the field his old man's voice
cried sternly:

--What is the matter? What is it now?

Their sharp voices cried about him on all sides: their many forms
closed round himthe garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his illdyed
head.

Stale smoky air hung in the study with the smell of drab abraded
leather of its chairs. As on the first day he bargained with me here. As
it was in the beginningis now. On the sideboard the tray of Stuart
coinsbase treasure of a bog: and ever shall be. And snug in their
spooncase of purple plushfadedthe twelve apostles having preached to
all the gentiles: world without end.

A hasty step over the stone porch and in the corridor. Blowing out his
rare moustache Mr Deasy halted at the table.

--Firstour little financial settlementhe said.

He brought out of his coat a pocketbook bound by a leather thong. It
slapped open and he took from it two notesone of joined halvesand laid
them carefully on the table.


--Twohe saidstrapping and stowing his pocketbook away.

And now his strongroom for the gold. Stephen's embarrassed hand
moved over the shells heaped in the cold stone mortar: whelks and money
cowries and leopard shells: and thiswhorled as an emir's turbanand
thisthe scallop of saint James. An old pilgrim's hoarddead treasure
hollow shells.

A sovereign fellbright and newon the soft pile of the tablecloth.

--ThreeMr Deasy saidturning his little savingsbox about in his hand.
These are handy things to have. See. This is for sovereigns. This is for
shillings. Sixpenceshalfcrowns. And here crowns. See.

He shot from it two crowns and two shillings.

--Three twelvehe said. I think you'll find that's right.

--Thank yousirStephen saidgathering the money together with shy
haste and putting it all in a pocket of his trousers.

--No thanks at allMr Deasy said. You have earned it.

Stephen's handfree againwent back to the hollow shells. Symbols
too of beauty and of power. A lump in my pocket: symbols soiled by greed
and misery.

--Don't carry it like thatMr Deasy said. You'll pull it out somewhere
and lose it. You just buy one of these machines. You'll find them very
handy.

Answer something.

--Mine would be often emptyStephen said.

The same room and hourthe same wisdom: and I the same. Three
times now. Three nooses round me here. Well? I can break them in this
instant if I will.

--Because you don't saveMr Deasy saidpointing his finger. You don't
know yet what money is. Money is power. When you have lived as long as I
have. I knowI know. If youth but knew. But what does Shakespeare say?
PUT BUT MONEY IN THY PURSE.

--IagoStephen murmured.

He lifted his gaze from the idle shells to the old man's stare.

--He knew what money wasMr Deasy said. He made money. A poetyes
but an Englishman too. Do you know what is the pride of the English? Do
you know what is the proudest word you will ever hear from an
Englishman's mouth?

The seas' ruler. His seacold eyes looked on the empty bay: it seems
history is to blame: on me and on my wordsunhating.

--That on his empireStephen saidthe sun never sets.

--Ba! Mr Deasy cried. That's not English. A French Celt said that. He
tapped his savingsbox against his thumbnail.

--I will tell youhe said solemnlywhat is his proudest boast. I PAID
MY WAY.


Good mangood man.


--I PAID MY WAY. I NEVER BORROWED A SHILLING IN MY LIFE. Can you feel
that? I OWE NOTHING. Can you?


Mulligannine poundsthree pairs of socksone pair broguesties.
Curranten guineas. McCannone guinea. Fred Ryantwo shillings.
Templetwo lunches. Russellone guineaCousinsten shillingsBob
Reynoldshalf a guineaKoehlerthree guineasMrs MacKernanfive
weeks' board. The lump I have is useless.


--For the momentnoStephen answered.


Mr Deasy laughed with rich delightputting back his savingsbox.


--I knew you couldn'the said joyously. But one day you must feel it. We
are a generous people but we must also be just.


--I fear those big wordsStephen saidwhich make us so unhappy.


Mr Deasy stared sternly for some moments over the mantelpiece at
the shapely bulk of a man in tartan filibegs: Albert Edwardprince of
Wales.


--You think me an old fogey and an old toryhis thoughtful voice said. I
saw three generations since O'Connell's time. I remember the famine
in '46. Do you know that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the
union twenty years before O'Connell did or before the prelates of your
communion denounced him as a demagogue? You fenians forget some things.


Gloriouspious and immortal memory. The lodge of Diamond in
Armagh the splendid behung with corpses of papishes. Hoarsemasked and
armedthe planters' covenant. The black north and true blue bible.
Croppies lie down.


Stephen sketched a brief gesture.


--I have rebel blood in me tooMr Deasy said. On the spindle side. But I
am descended from sir John Blackwood who voted for the union. We are all
Irishall kings' sons.


--AlasStephen said.


--PER VIAS RECTASMr Deasy said firmlywas his motto. He voted for it
and put on his topboots to ride to Dublin from the Ards of Down to do so.


LAL THE RAL THE RA
THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN.


A gruff squire on horseback with shiny topboots. Soft daysir John!
Soft dayyour honour! ... Day! ... Day! ... Two topboots jog dangling
on to Dublin. Lal the ral the ra. Lal the ral the raddy.

--That reminds meMr Deasy said. You can do me a favourMr Dedalus
with some of your literary friends. I have a letter here for the press.
Sit down a moment. I have just to copy the end.

He went to the desk near the windowpulled in his chair twice and
read off some words from the sheet on the drum of his typewriter.

--Sit down. Excuse mehe said over his shoulderTHE DICTATES OF COMMON
SENSE. Just a moment.


He peered from under his shaggy brows at the manuscript by his
elbow andmutteringbegan to prod the stiff buttons of the keyboard
slowlysometimes blowing as he screwed up the drum to erase an error.


Stephen seated himself noiselessly before the princely presence.
Framed around the walls images of vanished horses stood in homagetheir
meek heads poised in air: lord Hastings' Repulsethe duke of
Westminster's Shotoverthe duke of Beaufort's CeylonPRIX DE PARIS
1866. Elfin riders sat themwatchful of a sign. He saw their speeds
backing king's coloursand shouted with the shouts of vanished crowds.


--Full stopMr Deasy bade his keys. But prompt ventilation of this
allimportant question ...


Where Cranly led me to get rich quickhunting his winners among
the mudsplashed brakesamid the bawls of bookies on their pitches and
reek of the canteenover the motley slush. Fair Rebel! Fair Rebel! Even
money the favourite: ten to one the field. Dicers and thimbleriggers we
hurried by after the hoofsthe vying caps and jackets and past the
meatfaced womana butcher's damenuzzling thirstily her clove of orange.


Shouts rang shrill from the boys' playfield and a whirring whistle.


Again: a goal. I am among themamong their battling bodies in a
medleythe joust of life. You mean that knockkneed mother's darling who
seems to be slightly crawsick? Jousts. Time shocked reboundsshock by
shock. Joustsslush and uproar of battlesthe frozen deathspew of the
slaina shout of spearspikes baited with men's bloodied guts.


--Now thenMr Deasy saidrising.


He came to the tablepinning together his sheets. Stephen stood up.


--I have put the matter into a nutshellMr Deasy said. It's about the
foot and mouth disease. Just look through it. There can be no two opinions
on the matter.


May I trespass on your valuable space. That doctrine of LAISSEZ FAIRE
which so often in our history. Our cattle trade. The way of all our old
industries. Liverpool ring which jockeyed the Galway harbour scheme.
European conflagration. Grain supplies through the narrow waters of the
channel. The pluterperfect imperturbability of the department of
agriculture. Pardoned a classical allusion. Cassandra. By a woman who
was no better than she should be. To come to the point at issue.


--I don't mince wordsdo I? Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on.


Foot and mouth disease. Known as Koch's preparation. Serum and
virus. Percentage of salted horses. Rinderpest. Emperor's horses at
Murzsteglower Austria. Veterinary surgeons. Mr Henry Blackwood Price.
Courteous offer a fair trial. Dictates of common sense. Allimportant
question. In every sense of the word take the bull by the horns. Thanking
you for the hospitality of your columns.


--I want that to be printed and readMr Deasy said. You will see at the
next outbreak they will put an embargo on Irish cattle. And it can be
cured. It is cured. My cousinBlackwood Pricewrites to me it is
regularly treated and cured in Austria by cattledoctors there. They offer
to come over here. I am trying to work up influence with the department.
Now I'm going to try publicity. I am surrounded by difficulties
by ... intrigues by ... backstairs influence by ...


He raised his forefinger and beat the air oldly before his voice spoke.



--Mark my wordsMr Dedalushe said. England is in the hands of the
jews. In all the highest places: her financeher press. And they are the
signs of a nation's decay. Wherever they gather they eat up the nation's
vital strength. I have seen it coming these years. As sure as we are
standing here the jew merchants are already at their work of destruction.
Old England is dying.

He stepped swiftly offhis eyes coming to blue life as they passed a
broad sunbeam. He faced about and back again.

--Dyinghe said againif not dead by now.

THE HARLOT'S CRY FROM STREET TO STREET
SHALL WEAVE OLD ENGLAND'S WINDINGSHEET.


His eyes open wide in vision stared sternly across the sunbeam in
which he halted.

--A merchantStephen saidis one who buys cheap and sells dearjew or
gentileis he not?

--They sinned against the lightMr Deasy said gravely. And you can see
the darkness in their eyes. And that is why they are wanderers on the
earth to this day.

On the steps of the Paris stock exchange the goldskinned men quoting
prices on their gemmed fingers. Gabble of geese. They swarmed loud
uncouth about the templetheir heads thickplotting under maladroit silk
hats. Not theirs: these clothesthis speechthese gestures. Their full
slow eyes belied the wordsthe gestures eager and unoffendingbut knew
the rancours massed about them and knew their zeal was vain. Vain patience
to heap and hoard. Time surely would scatter all. A hoard heaped by the
roadside: plundered and passing on. Their eyes knew their years of
wandering andpatientknew the dishonours of their flesh.

--Who has not? Stephen said.

--What do you mean? Mr Deasy asked.

He came forward a pace and stood by the table. His underjaw fell
sideways open uncertainly. Is this old wisdom? He waits to hear from me.

--HistoryStephen saidis a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.

From the playfield the boys raised a shout. A whirring whistle: goal.
What if that nightmare gave you a back kick?

--The ways of the Creator are not our waysMr Deasy said. All human
history moves towards one great goalthe manifestation of God.

Stephen jerked his thumb towards the windowsaying:

--That is God.

Hooray! Ay! Whrrwhee!

--What? Mr Deasy asked.

--A shout in the streetStephen answeredshrugging his shoulders.

Mr Deasy looked down and held for awhile the wings of his nose


tweaked between his fingers. Looking up again he set them free.

--I am happier than you arehe said. We have committed many errors and
many sins. A woman brought sin into the world. For a woman who was no
better than she should beHelenthe runaway wife of Menelausten years
the Greeks made war on Troy. A faithless wife first brought the strangers
to our shore hereMacMurrough's wife and her lemanO'Rourkeprince of
Breffni. A woman too brought Parnell low. Many errorsmany failures but
not the one sin. I am a struggler now at the end of my days. But I will
fight for the right till the end.

FOR ULSTER WILL FIGHT
AND ULSTER WILL BE RIGHT.


Stephen raised the sheets in his hand.

--Wellsirhe began ...

--I foreseeMr Deasy saidthat you will not remain here very long at
this work. You were not born to be a teacherI think. Perhaps I am wrong.

--A learner ratherStephen said.

And here what will you learn more?

Mr Deasy shook his head.

--Who knows? he said. To learn one must be humble. But life is the great
teacher.

Stephen rustled the sheets again.

--As regards thesehe began.

--YesMr Deasy said. You have two copies there. If you can have them
published at once.

TELEGRAPH. IRISH HOMESTEAD.

--I will tryStephen saidand let you know tomorrow. I know two editors
slightly.

--That will doMr Deasy said briskly. I wrote last night to Mr Field

M.P. There is a meeting of the cattletraders' association today at the
City Arms hotel. I asked him to lay my letter before the meeting. You see
if you can get it into your two papers. What are they?
--THE EVENING TELEGRAPH ...

--That will doMr Deasy said. There is no time to lose. Now I have to
answer that letter from my cousin.

--Good morningsirStephen saidputting the sheets in his pocket.
Thank you.

--Not at allMr Deasy said as he searched the papers on his desk. I like
to break a lance with youold as I am.

--Good morningsirStephen said againbowing to his bent back.

He went out by the open porch and down the gravel path under the
treeshearing the cries of voices and crack of sticks from the playfield.


The lions couchant on the pillars as he passed out through the gate:
toothless terrors. Still I will help him in his fight. Mulligan will dub
me a new name: the bullockbefriending bard.

--Mr Dedalus!

Running after me. No more lettersI hope.

--Just one moment.

--YessirStephen saidturning back at the gate.

Mr Deasy haltedbreathing hard and swallowing his breath.

--I just wanted to sayhe said. Irelandthey sayhas the honour of
being the only country which never persecuted the jews. Do you know that?
No. And do you know why?

He frowned sternly on the bright air.

--Whysir? Stephen askedbeginning to smile.

--Because she never let them inMr Deasy said solemnly.

A coughball of laughter leaped from his throat dragging after it a
rattling chain of phlegm. He turned back quicklycoughinglaughinghis
lifted arms waving to the air.

--She never let them inhe cried again through his laughter as he
stamped on gaitered feet over the gravel of the path. That's why.

On his wise shoulders through the checkerwork of leaves the sun flung
spanglesdancing coins.

* * * * * * *

Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no morethought
through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to readseaspawn and
seawrackthe nearing tidethat rusty boot. Snotgreenbluesilverrust:
coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Then he
was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By knocking his
sconce against themsure. Go easy. Bald he was and a millionaireMAESTRO
DI COLOR CHE SANNO. Limit of the diaphane in. Why in? Diaphane
adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it it is a gateif
not a door. Shut your eyes and see.

Stephen closed his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and
shells. You are walking through it howsomever. I ama stride at a time. A
very short space of time through very short times of space. Fivesix: the
NACHEINANDER. Exactly: and that is the ineluctable modality of the
audible. Open your eyes. No. Jesus! If I fell over a cliff that beetles
o'er his basefell through the NEBENEINANDER ineluctably! I am getting on
nicely in the dark. My ash sword hangs at my side. Tap with it: they do.
My two feet in his boots are at the ends of his legsNEBENEINANDER.
Sounds solid: made by the mallet of LOS DEMIURGOS. Am I walking into
eternity along Sandymount strand? Crushcrackcrickcrick. Wild sea
money. Dominie Deasy kens them a'.

WON'T YOU COME TO SANDYMOUNT
MADELINE THE MARE?



Rhythm beginsyou see. I hear. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs
marching. Noagallop: DELINE THE MARE.

Open your eyes now. I will. One moment. Has all vanished since? If I
open and am for ever in the black adiaphane. BASTA! I will see if I can
see.

See now. There all the time without you: and ever shall beworld
without end.

They came down the steps from Leahy's terrace prudently
FRAUENZIMMER: and down the shelving shore flabbilytheir splayed feet
sinking in the silted sand. Like melike Algycoming down to our mighty
mother. Number one swung lourdily her midwife's bagthe other's gamp
poked in the beach. From the libertiesout for the day. Mrs Florence
MacCaberelict of the late Patk MacCabedeeply lamentedof Bride
Street. One of her sisterhood lugged me squealing into life. Creation from
nothing. What has she in the bag? A misbirth with a trailing navelcord
hushed in ruddy wool. The cords of all link backstrandentwining cable of
all flesh. That is why mystic monks. Will you be as gods? Gaze in your
omphalos. Hello! Kinch here. Put me on to Edenville. Alephalpha: nought
noughtone.

Spouse and helpmate of Adam Kadmon: Hevanaked Eve. She had
no navel. Gaze. Belly without blemishbulging biga buckler of taut
vellumnowhiteheaped cornorient and immortalstanding from
everlasting to everlasting. Womb of sin.

Wombed in sin darkness I was toomade not begotten. By themthe
man with my voice and my eyes and a ghostwoman with ashes on her
breath. They clasped and sundereddid the coupler's will. From before the
ages He willed me and now may not will me away or ever. A LEX ETERNA
stays about Him. Is that then the divine substance wherein Father and Son
are consubstantial? Where is poor dear Arius to try conclusions? Warring
his life long upon the contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality. Illstarred
heresiarch' In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last: euthanasia. With
beaded mitre and with crozierstalled upon his thronewidower of a
widowed seewith upstiffed omophorionwith clotted hinderparts.

Airs romped round himnipping and eager airs. They are coming
waves. The whitemaned seahorseschampingbrightwindbridledthe steeds
of Mananaan.

I mustn't forget his letter for the press. And after? The Shiphalf
twelve. By the way go easy with that money like a good young imbecile.

YesI must.

His pace slackened. Here. Am I going to aunt Sara's or not? My
consubstantial father's voice. Did you see anything of your artist brother
Stephen lately? No? Sure he's not down in Strasburg terrace with his aunt

Sally? Couldn't he fly a bit higher than thateh? And and and and tell
usStephenhow is uncle Si? Oweeping Godthe things I married into!
De boys up in de hayloft. The drunken little costdrawer and his brother
the cornet player. Highly respectable gondoliers! And skeweyed Walter
sirring his fatherno less! Sir. Yessir. Nosir. Jesus wept: and no
wonderby Christ!

I pull the wheezy bell of their shuttered cottage: and wait. They take
me for a dunpeer out from a coign of vantage.

--It's Stephensir.


--Let him in. Let Stephen in.

A bolt drawn back and Walter welcomes me.

--We thought you were someone else.

In his broad bed nuncle Richiepillowed and blanketedextends over
the hillock of his knees a sturdy forearm. Cleanchested. He has washed the
upper moiety.

--Morrownephew.

He lays aside the lapboard whereon he drafts his bills of costs for the
eyes of master Goff and master Shapland Tandyfiling consents and
common searches and a writ of DUCES TECUM. A bogoak frame over his bald
head: Wilde's REQUIESCAT. The drone of his misleading whistle brings
Walter back.

--Yessir?

--Malt for Richie and Stephentell mother. Where is she?

--Bathing Crissiesir.

Papa's little bedpal. Lump of love.

--Nouncle Richie ...

--Call me Richie. Damn your lithia water. It lowers. Whusky!

--Uncle Richiereally ...

--Sit down or by the law Harry I'll knock you down.

Walter squints vainly for a chair.

--He has nothing to sit down onsir.

--He has nowhere to put ityou mug. Bring in our chippendale chair.
Would you like a bite of something? None of your damned lawdeedaw airs
here. The rich of a rasher fried with a herring? Sure? So much the better.
We have nothing in the house but backache pills.

ALL'ERTA!

He drones bars of Ferrando's ARIA DI SORTITA. The grandest number
Stephenin the whole opera. Listen.

His tuneful whistle sounds againfinely shadedwith rushes of the air
his fists bigdrumming on his padded knees.

This wind is sweeter.

Houses of decayminehis and all. You told the Clongowes gentry
you had an uncle a judge and an uncle a general in the army. Come out of
themStephen. Beauty is not there. Nor in the stagnant bay of Marsh's
library where you read the fading prophecies of Joachim Abbas. For
whom? The hundredheaded rabble of the cathedral close. A hater of his
kind ran from them to the wood of madnesshis mane foaming in the
moonhis eyeballs stars. Houyhnhnmhorsenostrilled. The oval equine
facesTempleBuck MulliganFoxy CampbellLanternjaws. Abbas father-furious
deanwhat offence laid fire to their brains? Paff! DESCENDE
CALVEUT NE AMPLIUS DECALVERIS. A garland of grey hair on his comminated


head see him me clambering down to the footpace (DESCENDE!)clutching a
monstrancebasiliskeyed. Get downbaldpoll! A choir gives back menace
and echoassisting about the altar's hornsthe snorted Latin of
jackpriests moving burly in their albstonsured and oiled and geldedfat
with the fat of kidneys of wheat.


And at the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it.
Dringdring! And two streets off another locking it into a pyx.
Dringadring! And in a ladychapel another taking housel all to his own
cheek. Dringdring! Downupforwardback. Dan Occam thought of that
invincible doctor. A misty English morning the imp hypostasis tickled his
brain. Bringing his host down and kneeling he heard twine with his second
bell the first bell in the transept (he is lifting his) andrisingheard
(now I am lifting) their two bells (he is kneeling) twang in diphthong.


Cousin Stephenyou will never be a saint. Isle of saints. You were
awfully holyweren't you? You prayed to the Blessed Virgin that you might
not have a red nose. You prayed to the devil in Serpentine avenue that the
fubsy widow in front might lift her clothes still more from the wet
street. O SICERTO! Sell your soul for thatdodyed rags pinned round a
squaw. More tell memore still!! On the top of the Howth tram alone
crying to the rain: Naked women! NAKED WOMEN! What about thateh?


What about what? What else were they invented for?


Reading two pages apiece of seven books every nighteh? I was
young. You bowed to yourself in the mirrorstepping forward to applause
earnestlystriking face. Hurray for the Goddamned idiot! Hray! No-one
saw: tell no-one. Books you were going to write with letters for titles.
Have you read his F? O yesbut I prefer Q. Yesbut W is wonderful.
O yesW. Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leavesdeeply
deepcopies to be sent if you died to all the great libraries of the
worldincluding Alexandria? Someone was to read them there after a few
thousand yearsa mahamanvantara. Pico della Mirandola like. Ayvery like
a whale. When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels
that one is at one with one who once ...


The grainy sand had gone from under his feet. His boots trod again a
damp crackling mastrazorshellssqueaking pebblesthat on the
unnumbered pebbles beatswood sieved by the shipwormlost Armada.
Unwholesome sandflats waited to suck his treading solesbreathing upward
sewage breatha pocket of seaweed smouldered in seafire under a midden
of man's ashes. He coasted themwalking warily. A porterbottle stood up
stogged to its waistin the cakey sand dough. A sentinel: isle of
dreadful thirst. Broken hoops on the shore; at the land a maze of dark
cunning nets; farther away chalkscrawled backdoors and on the higher beach
a dryingline with two crucified shirts. Ringsend: wigwams of brown
steersmen and master mariners. Human shells.


He halted. I have passed the way to aunt Sara's. Am I not going
there? Seems not. No-one about. He turned northeast and crossed the
firmer sand towards the Pigeonhouse.


--QUI VOUS A MIS DANS CETTE FICHUE POSITION?


--C'EST LE PIGEONJOSEPH.


Patricehome on furloughlapped warm milk with me in the bar
MacMahon. Son of the wild gooseKevin Egan of Paris. My father's a bird
he lapped the sweet LAIT CHAUD with pink young tongueplump bunny's face.
LapLAPIN. He hopes to win in the GROS LOTS. About the nature of women he
read in Michelet. But he must send me LA VIE DE JESUS by M. Leo Taxil.
Lent it to his friend.



--C'EST TORDANTVOUS SAVEZ. MOIJE SUIS SOCIALISTE. JE NE CROIS PAS EN
L'EXISTENCE DE DIEU. FAUT PAS LE DIRE A MON P-RE.

--IL CROIT?

--MON PEREOUI.

SCHLUSS. He laps.

My Latin quarter hat. Godwe simply must dress the character. I
want puce gloves. You were a studentweren't you? Of what in the other
devil's name? Paysayenn. P. C. N.you know: PHYSIQUESCHIMIQUES ET
NATURELLES. Aha. Eating your groatsworth of MOU EN CIVETfleshpots of
Egyptelbowed by belching cabmen. Just say in the most natural tone:
when I was in Paris; BOUL' MICH'I used to. Yesused to carry punched
tickets to prove an alibi if they arrested you for murder somewhere.
Justice. On the night of the seventeenth of February 1904 the prisoner was
seen by two witnesses. Other fellow did it: other me. Hattieovercoat
nose. LUIC'EST MOI. You seem to have enjoyed yourself.

Proudly walking. Whom were you trying to walk like? Forget: a
dispossessed. With mother's money ordereight shillingsthe banging door
of the post office slammed in your face by the usher. Hunger toothache.
ENCORE DEUX MINUTES. Look clock. Must get. FERME. Hired dog! Shoot him
to bloody bits with a bang shotgunbits man spattered walls all brass
buttons. Bits all khrrrrklak in place clack back. Not hurt? Othat's all
right. Shake hands. See what I meantsee? Othat's all right. Shake a
shake. Othat's all only all right.

You were going to do wonderswhat? Missionary to Europe after
fiery Columbanus. Fiacre and Scotus on their creepystools in heaven spilt
from their pintpotsloudlatinlaughing: EUGE! EUGE! Pretending to speak
broken English as you dragged your valiseporter threepenceacross the
slimy pier at Newhaven. COMMENT? Rich booty you brought back; LE TUTU
five tattered numbers of PANTALON BLANC ET CULOTTE ROUGE; a blue
French telegramcuriosity to show:

--Mother dying come home father.

The aunt thinks you killed your mother. That's why she won't.

THEN HERE'S A HEALTH TO MULLIGAN'S AUNT
AND I'LL TELL YOU THE REASON WHY.
SHE ALWAYS KEPT THINGS DECENT IN
THE HANNIGAN FAMILEYE.


His feet marched in sudden proud rhythm over the sand furrows
along by the boulders of the south wall. He stared at them proudlypiled
stone mammoth skulls. Gold light on seaon sandon boulders. The sun is
therethe slender treesthe lemon houses.


Paris rawly wakingcrude sunlight on her lemon streets. Moist pith of
farls of breadthe froggreen wormwoodher matin incensecourt the air.
Belluomo rises from the bed of his wife's lover's wifethe kerchiefed
housewife is astira saucer of acetic acid in her hand. In Rodot's Yvonne
and Madeleine newmake their tumbled beautiesshattering with gold teeth
CHAUSSONS of pastrytheir mouths yellowed with the PUS of FLAN BRETON.
Faces of Paris men go bytheir wellpleased pleaserscurled
conquistadores.


Noon slumbers. Kevin Egan rolls gunpowder cigarettes through
fingers smeared with printer's inksipping his green fairy as Patrice his



white. About us gobblers fork spiced beans down their gullets. UN DEMI
SETIER! A jet of coffee steam from the burnished caldron. She serves me at
his beck. IL EST IRLANDAIS. HOLLANDAIS? NON FROMAGE. DEUX IRLANDAISNOUS
IRLANDEVOUS SAVEZ AHOUI! She thought you wanted a cheese HOLLANDAIS.
Your postprandialdo you know that word? Postprandial. There was a
fellow I knew once in Barcelonaqueer fellowused to call it his
postprandial. Well: SLAINTE! Around the slabbed tables the tangle of wined
breaths and grumbling gorges. His breath hangs over our saucestained
platesthe green fairy's fang thrusting between his lips. Of Irelandthe
Dalcassiansof hopesconspiraciesof Arthur Griffith nowA E
pimandergood shepherd of men. To yoke me as his yokefellowour crimes
our common cause. You're your father's son. I know the voice. His fustian
shirtsanguinefloweredtrembles its Spanish tassels at his secrets. M.
Drumontfamous journalistDrumontknow what he called queen
Victoria? Old hag with the yellow teeth. VIEILLE OGRESSE with the DENTS
JAUNES. Maud Gonnebeautiful womanLA PATRIEM. MillevoyeFelix
Faureknow how he died? Licentious men. The froekenBONNE A TOUT FAIRE
who rubs male nakedness in the bath at Upsala. MOI FAIREshe saidTOUS
LES MESSIEURS. Not this MONSIEURI said. Most licentious custom. Bath a
most private thing. I wouldn't let my brothernot even my own brother
most lascivious thing. Green eyesI see you. FangI feel. Lascivious
people.

The blue fuse burns deadly between hands and burns clear. Loose
tobaccoshreds catch fire: a flame and acrid smoke light our corner. Raw
facebones under his peep of day boy's hat. How the head centre got away
authentic version. Got up as a young bridemanveilorangeblossoms
drove out the road to Malahide. Didfaith. Of lost leadersthe betrayed
wild escapes. Disguisesclutched atgonenot here.

Spurned lover. I was a strapping young gossoon at that timeI tell
you. I'll show you my likeness one day. I wasfaith. Loverfor her love
he prowled with colonel Richard Burketanist of his septunder the walls
of Clerkenwell andcrouchingsaw a flame of vengeance hurl them upward
in the fog. Shattered glass and toppling masonry. In gay Paree he hides
Egan of Parisunsought by any save by me. Making his day's stationsthe
dingy printingcasehis three tavernsthe Montmartre lair he sleeps short
night inrue de la Goutte-d'Ordamascened with flyblown faces of the
gone. Lovelesslandlesswifeless. She is quite nicey comfy without her
outcast manmadame in rue Git-le-Coeurcanary and two buck lodgers.
Peachy cheeksa zebra skirtfrisky as a young thing's. Spurned and
undespairing. Tell Pat you saw mewon't you? I wanted to get poor Pat a
job one time. MON FILSsoldier of France. I taught him to sing THE BOYS
OF KILKENNY ARE STOUT ROARING BLADES. Know that old lay? I taught Patrice
that. Old Kilkenny: saint CaniceStrongbow's castle on the Nore. Goes
like this. OO. He takes meNapper Tandyby the hand.

OO THE BOYS OF

KILKENNY ...

Weak wasting hand on mine. They have forgotten Kevin Egannot he
them. Remembering theeO Sion.

He had come nearer the edge of the sea and wet sand slapped his
boots. The new air greeted himharping in wild nerveswind of wild air
of seeds of brightness. HereI am not walking out to the Kish lightship
am I? He stood suddenlyhis feet beginning to sink slowly in the quaking
soil. Turn back.

Turninghe scanned the shore southhis feet sinking again slowly in
new sockets. The cold domed room of the tower waits. Through the
barbacans the shafts of light are moving everslowly ever as my feet are


sinkingcreeping duskward over the dial floor. Blue dusknightfalldeep
blue night. In the darkness of the dome they waittheir pushedback
chairsmy obelisk valisearound a board of abandoned platters. Who to
clear it? He has the key. I will not sleep there when this night comes.
A shut door of a silent towerentombing their--blind bodiesthe
panthersahib and his pointer. Call: no answer. He lifted his feet up from
the suck and turned back by the mole of boulders. Take allkeep all. My
soul walks with meform of forms. So in the moon's midwatches I pace the
path above the rocksin sable silveredhearing Elsinore's tempting
flood.

The flood is following me. I can watch it flow past from here. Get
back then by the Poolbeg road to the strand there. He climbed over the
sedge and eely oarweeds and sat on a stool of rockresting his ashplant
in a grike.

A bloated carcass of a dog lay lolled on bladderwrack. Before him the
gunwale of a boatsunk in sand. UN COCHE ENSABLE Louis Veuillot called
Gautier's prose. These heavy sands are language tide and wind have silted
here. And thesethe stoneheaps of dead buildersa warren of weasel rats.
Hide gold there. Try it. You have some. Sands and stones. Heavy of the
past. Sir Lout's toys. Mind you don't get one bang on the ear. I'm the
bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well bouldersbones for my
steppingstones. Feefawfum. I zmellz de bloodz odz an Iridzman.

A pointlive doggrew into sight running across the sweep of sand.
Lordis he going to attack me? Respect his liberty. You will not be
master of others or their slave. I have my stick. Sit tight. From farther
awaywalking shoreward across from the crested tidefigurestwo. The
two maries. They have tucked it safe mong the bulrushes. Peekaboo. I see
you. Nothe dog. He is running back to them. Who?

Galleys of the Lochlanns ran here to beachin quest of preytheir
bloodbeaked prows riding low on a molten pewter surf. Dane vikingstorcs
of tomahawks aglitter on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of
gold. A school of turlehide whales stranded in hot noonspouting
hobbling in the shallows. Then from the starving cagework city a horde of
jerkined dwarfsmy peoplewith flayers' knivesrunningscaling
hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. Famineplague and slaughters. Their
blood is in metheir lusts my waves. I moved among them on the frozen
Liffeythat Ia changelingamong the spluttering resin fires. I spoke
to no-one: none to me.

The dog's bark ran towards himstoppedran back. Dog of my
enemy. I just simply stood palesilentbayed about. TERRIBILIA MEDITANS.
A primrose doubletfortune's knavesmiled on my fear. For that are you
piningthe bark of their applause? Pretenders: live their lives. The
Bruce's brotherThomas Fitzgeraldsilken knightPerkin WarbeckYork's
false scionin breeches of silk of whiterose ivorywonder of a dayand
Lambert Simnelwith a tail of nans and sutlersa scullion crowned. All
kings' sons. Paradise of pretenders then and now. He saved men from
drowning and you shake at a cur's yelping. But the courtiers who mocked
Guido in Or san Michele were in their own house. House of ... We don't
want any of your medieval abstrusiosities. Would you do what he did? A
boat would be neara lifebuoy. NATURLICHput there for you. Would you or
would you not? The man that was drowned nine days ago off Maiden's rock.
They are waiting for him now. The truthspit it out. I would want to.
I would try. I am not a strong swimmer. Water cold soft. When I put my
face into it in the basin at Clongowes. Can't see! Who's behind me? Out
quicklyquickly! Do you see the tide flowing quickly in on all sides
sheeting the lows of sand quicklyshellcocoacoloured? If I had land under
my feet. I want his life still to be hismine to be mine. A drowning man.
His human eyes scream to me out of horror of his death. I ... With him
together down ... I could not save her. Waters: bitter death: lost.


A woman and a man. I see her skirties. Pinned upI bet.

Their dog ambled about a bank of dwindling sandtrottingsniffing
on all sides. Looking for something lost in a past life. Suddenly he made
off like a bounding hareears flung backchasing the shadow of a
lowskimming gull. The man's shrieked whistle struck his limp ears. He
turnedbounded backcame nearertrotted on twinkling shanks. On a field
tenney a bucktrippantproperunattired. At the lacefringe of the tide
he halted with stiff forehoofsseawardpointed ears. His snout lifted
barked at the wavenoiseherds of seamorse. They serpented towards his
feetcurlingunfurling many crestsevery ninthbreakingplashing
from farfrom farther outwaves and waves.

Cocklepickers. They waded a little way in the water andstooping
soused their bags andlifting them againwaded out. The dog yelped
running to themreared up and pawed themdropping on all foursagain
reared up at them with mute bearish fawning. Unheeded he kept by them as
they came towards the drier sanda rag of wolf's tongue redpanting from
his jaws. His speckled body ambled ahead of them and then loped off at a
calf's gallop. The carcass lay on his path. He stoppedsniffedstalked
round itbrothernosing closerwent round itsniffling rapidly like a
dog all over the dead dog's bedraggled fell. Dogskulldogsniffeyes on
the groundmoves to one great goal. Ahpoor dogsbody! Here lies poor
dogsbody's body.

--Tatters! Out of thatyou mongrel!

The cry brought him skulking back to his master and a blunt bootless
kick sent him unscathed across a spit of sandcrouched in flight. He
slunk back in a curve. Doesn't see me. Along by the edge of the mole he
lollopeddawdledsmelt a rock. and from under a cocked hindleg pissed
against it. He trotted forward andlifting again his hindlegpissed
quick short at an unsmelt rock. The simple pleasures of the poor. His
hindpaws then scattered the sand: then his forepaws dabbled and delved.
Something he buried therehis grandmother. He rooted in the sand
dabblingdelving and stopped to listen to the airscraped up the sand
again with a fury of his clawssoon ceasinga parda panthergot in
spousebreachvulturing the dead.

After he woke me last night same dream or was it? Wait. Open
hallway. Street of harlots. Remember. Haroun al Raschid. I am almosting
it. That man led mespoke. I was not afraid. The melon he had he held
against my face. Smiled: creamfruit smell. That was the rulesaid. In.
Come. Red carpet spread. You will see who.

Shouldering their bags they trudgedthe red Egyptians. His blued
feet out of turnedup trousers slapped the clammy sanda dull brick
muffler strangling his unshaven neck. With woman steps she followed: the
ruffian and his strolling mort. Spoils slung at her back. Loose sand and
shellgrit crusted her bare feet. About her windraw face hair trailed.
Behind her lordhis helpmatebing awast to Romeville. When night hides
her body's flaws calling under her brown shawl from an archway where dogs
have mired. Her fancyman is treating two Royal Dublins in O'Loughlin's of
Blackpitts. Buss herwap in rogues' rum lingoforOmy dimber wapping
dell! A shefiend's whiteness under her rancid rags. Fumbally's lane that
night: the tanyard smells.

WHITE THY FAMBLESRED THY GAN

AND THY QUARRONS DAINTY IS.

COUCH A HOGSHEAD WITH ME THEN.

IN THE DARKMANS CLIP AND KISS.


Morose delectation Aquinas tunbelly calls thisFRATE PORCOSPINO.
Unfallen Adam rode and not rutted. Call away let him: THY QUARRONS DAINTY
IS. Language no whit worse than his. Monkwordsmarybeads jabber on
their girdles: roguewordstough nuggets patter in their pockets.

Passing now.

A side eye at my Hamlet hat. If I were suddenly naked here as I sit? I
am not. Across the sands of all the worldfollowed by the sun's flaming
swordto the westtrekking to evening lands. She trudgesschlepps
trainsdragstrascines her load. A tide westeringmoondrawnin her
wake. Tidesmyriadislandedwithin herblood not mineOINOPA PONTON
a winedark sea. Behold the handmaid of the moon. In sleep the wet sign
calls her hourbids her rise. Bridebedchildbedbed of death
ghostcandled. OMNIS CARO AD TE VENIET. He comespale vampirethrough
storm his eyeshis bat sails bloodying the seamouth to her mouth's
kiss.

Here. Put a pin in that chapwill you? My tablets. Mouth to her kiss.

No. Must be two of em. Glue em well. Mouth to her mouth's kiss.

His lips lipped and mouthed fleshless lips of air: mouth to her
moomb. Oomballwombing tomb. His mouth moulded issuing breath
unspeeched: ooeeehah: roar of cataractic planetsglobedblazingroaring
wayawayawayawayaway. Paper. The banknotesblast them. Old Deasy's
letter. Here. Thanking you for the hospitality tear the blank end off.
Turning his back to the sun he bent over far to a table of rock and
scribbled words. That's twice I forgot to take slips from the library
counter.

His shadow lay over the rocks as he bentending. Why not endless till
the farthest star? Darkly they are there behind this lightdarkness
shining in the brightnessdelta of Cassiopeiaworlds. Me sits there with
his augur's rod of ashin borrowed sandalsby day beside a livid sea
unbeheldin violet night walking beneath a reign of uncouth stars.
I throw this ended shadow from memanshape ineluctablecall it back.
Endlesswould it be mineform of my form? Who watches me here? Who ever
anywhere will read these written words? Signs on a white field. Somewhere
to someone in your flutiest voice. The good bishop of Cloyne took the veil
of the temple out of his shovel hat: veil of space with coloured emblems
hatched on its field. Hold hard. Coloured on a flat: yesthat's right.
Flat I seethen think distancenearfarflat I seeeastback. Ah
see now! Falls back suddenlyfrozen in stereoscope. Click does the trick.
You find my words dark. Darkness is in our souls do you not think?
Flutier. Our soulsshamewounded by our sinscling to us yet more
a woman to her lover clingingthe more the more.

She trusts meher hand gentlethe longlashed eyes. Now where the blue
hell am I bringing her beyond the veil? Into the ineluctable modality
of the ineluctable visuality. Shesheshe. What she? The virgin
at Hodges Figgis' window on Monday looking in for one of the alphabet
books you were going to write. Keen glance you gave her. Wrist through
the braided jesse of her sunshade. She lives in Leeson park with
a grief and kickshawsa lady of letters. Talk that to someone else
Stevie: a pickmeup. Bet she wears those curse of God stays suspenders
and yellow stockingsdarned with lumpy wool. Talk about apple dumplings
PIUTTOSTO. Where are your wits?

Touch me. Soft eyes. Soft soft soft hand. I am lonely here. Otouch
me soonnow. What is that word known to all men? I am quiet here alone.
Sad too. Touchtouch me.


He lay back at full stretch over the sharp rockscramming the
scribbled note and pencil into a pock his hat. His hat down on his eyes.
That is Kevin Egan's movement I madenodding for his napsabbath sleep.
ET VIDIT DEUS. ET ERANT VALDE BONA. Alo! BONJOUR. Welcome as the flowers
in May. Under its leaf he watched through peacocktwittering lashes the
southing sun. I am caught in this burning scene. Pan's hourthe faunal
noon. Among gumheavy serpentplantsmilkoozing fruitswhere on the
tawny waters leaves lie wide. Pain is far.

AND NO MORE TURN ASIDE AND BROOD.

His gaze brooded on his broadtoed bootsa buck's castoffs
NEBENEINANDER. He counted the creases of rucked leather wherein another's
foot had nested warm. The foot that beat the ground in tripudiumfoot I
dislove. But you were delighted when Esther Osvalt's shoe went on you:
girl I knew in Paris. TIENSQUEL PETIT PIED! Staunch frienda brother
soul: Wilde's love that dare not speak its name. His arm: Cranly's arm. He
now will leave me. And the blame? As I am. As I am. All or not at all.

In long lassoes from the Cock lake the water flowed fullcovering
greengoldenly lagoons of sandrisingflowing. My ashplant will float
away. I shall wait. Nothey will pass onpassingchafing against the
low rocksswirlingpassing. Better get this job over quick. Listen: a
fourworded wavespeech: seesoohrssrsseeissooos. Vehement breath of
waters amid seasnakesrearing horsesrocks. In cups of rocks it slops:
flopslopslap: bounded in barrels. Andspentits speech ceases. It
flows purlingwidely flowingfloating foampoolflower unfurling.

Under the upswelling tide he saw the writhing weeds lift languidly
and sway reluctant armshising up their petticoatsin whispering water
swaying and upturning coy silver fronds. Day by day: night by night:
liftedflooded and let fall. Lordthey are weary; andwhispered to
they sigh. Saint Ambrose heard itsigh of leaves and waveswaiting
awaiting the fullness of their timesDIEBUS AC NOCTIBUS INIURIAS PATIENS
INGEMISCIT. To no end gathered; vainly then releasedforthflowing
wending back: loom of the moon. Weary too in sight of loverslascivious
mena naked woman shining in her courtsshe draws a toil of waters.

Five fathoms out there. Full fathom five thy father lies. At onehe
said. Found drowned. High water at Dublin bar. Driving before it a loose
drift of rubblefanshoals of fishessilly shells. A corpse rising
saltwhite from the undertowbobbing a pace a pace a porpoise landward.
There he is. Hook it quick. Pull. Sunk though he be beneath the watery
floor. We have him. Easy now.

Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine. A quiver of minnowsfat of a
spongy titbitflash through the slits of his buttoned trouserfly. God
becomes man becomes fish becomes barnacle goose becomes featherbed
mountain. Dead breaths I living breathetread dead dustdevour a urinous
offal from all dead. Hauled stark over the gunwale he breathes upward the
stench of his green gravehis leprous nosehole snoring to the sun.

A seachange thisbrown eyes saltblue. Seadeathmildest of all deaths
known to man. Old Father Ocean. PRIX DE PARIS: beware of imitations. Just
you give it a fair trial. We enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Come. I thirst. Clouding over. No black clouds anywhereare there?
Thunderstorm. Allbright he fallsproud lightning of the intellect
LUCIFERDICOQUI NESCIT OCCASUM. No. My cockle hat and staff and hismy
sandal shoon. Where? To evening lands. Evening will find itself.

He took the hilt of his ashplantlunging with it softlydallying still.
Yesevening will find itself in mewithout me. All days make their end.
By the way next when is it Tuesday will be the longest day. Of all the


glad new yearmotherthe rum tum tiddledy tum. Lawn Tennysongentleman
poet. GIA. For the old hag with the yellow teeth. And Monsieur Drumont
gentleman journalist. GIA. My teeth are very bad. WhyI wonder. Feel.
That one is going too. Shells. Ought I go to a dentistI wonderwith
that money? That one. This. Toothless Kinchthe superman. Why is thatI
wonderor does it mean something perhaps?

My handkerchief. He threw it. I remember. Did I not take it up?

His hand groped vainly in his pockets. NoI didn't. Better buy one.

He laid the dry snot picked from his nostril on a ledge of rock
carefully. For the rest let look who will.

Behind. Perhaps there is someone.

He turned his face over a shoulderrere regardant. Moving through
the air high spars of a threemasterher sails brailed up on the
crosstreeshomingupstreamsilently movinga silent ship.
+

-- II -


Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and
fowls. He liked thick giblet soupnutty gizzardsa stuffed roast heart
liverslices fried with crustcrumbsfried hencods' roes. Most of all he
liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of
faintly scented urine.

Kidneys were in his mind as he moved about the kitchen softly
righting her breakfast things on the humpy tray. Gelid light and air
were in the kitchen but out of doors gentle summer morning everywhere.
Made him feel a bit peckish.

The coals were reddening.

Another slice of bread and butter: threefour: right. She didn't like
her plate full. Right. He turned from the traylifted the kettle off the
hob and set it sideways on the fire. It sat theredull and squatits
spout stuck out. Cup of tea soon. Good. Mouth dry. The cat walked stiffly
round a leg of the table with tail on high.

--Mkgnao!

--Othere you areMr Bloom saidturning from the fire.

The cat mewed in answer and stalked again stiffly round a leg of the
tablemewing. Just how she stalks over my writingtable. Prr. Scratch my
head. Prr.

Mr Bloom watched curiouslykindly the lithe black form. Clean to
see: the gloss of her sleek hidethe white button under the butt of her
tailthe green flashing eyes. He bent down to herhis hands on his
knees.

--Milk for the pussenshe said.

--Mrkgnao! the cat cried.

They call them stupid. They understand what we say better than we
understand them. She understands all she wants to. Vindictive too. Cruel.
Her nature. Curious mice never squeal. Seem to like it. Wonder what I look
like to her. Height of a tower? Noshe can jump me.


--Afraid of the chickens she ishe said mockingly. Afraid of the
chookchooks. I never saw such a stupid pussens as the pussens.


Cruel. Her nature. Curious mice never squeal. Seem to like it.


--Mrkrgnao! the cat said loudly.


She blinked up out of her avid shameclosing eyesmewing plaintively
and longshowing him her milkwhite teeth. He watched the dark eyeslits
narrowing with greed till her eyes were green stones. Then he went to the
dressertook the jug Hanlon's milkman had just filled for himpoured
warmbubbled milk on a saucer and set it slowly on the floor.


--Gurrhr! she criedrunning to lap.


He watched the bristles shining wirily in the weak light as she tipped
three times and licked lightly. Wonder is it true if you clip them they
can't mouse after. Why? They shine in the darkperhapsthe tips. Or kind
of feelers in the darkperhaps.


He listened to her licking lap. Ham and eggsno. No good eggs with
this drouth. Want pure fresh water. Thursday: not a good day either for a
mutton kidney at Buckley's. Fried with buttera shake of pepper. Better a
pork kidney at Dlugacz's. While the kettle is boiling. She lapped slower
then licking the saucer clean. Why are their tongues so rough? To lap
betterall porous holes. Nothing she can eat? He glanced round him. No.


On quietly creaky boots he went up the staircase to the hallpaused
by the bedroom door. She might like something tasty. Thin bread and
butter she likes in the morning. Still perhaps: once in a way.


He said softly in the bare hall:


--I'm going round the corner. Be back in a minute.


And when he had heard his voice say it he added:


--You don't want anything for breakfast?


A sleepy soft grunt answered:


--Mn.


No. She didn't want anything. He heard then a warm heavy sigh
softeras she turned over and the loose brass quoits of the bedstead
jingled. Must get those settled really. Pity. All the way from Gibraltar.
Forgotten any little Spanish she knew. Wonder what her father gave for it.
Old style. Ah yes! of course. Bought it at the governor's auction. Got a
short knock. Hard as nails at a bargainold Tweedy. Yessir. At Plevna
that was. I rose from the rankssirand I'm proud of it. Still he had
brains enough to make that corner in stamps. Now that was farseeing.


His hand took his hat from the peg over his initialled heavy overcoat
and his lost property office secondhand waterproof. Stamps: stickyback
pictures. Daresay lots of officers are in the swim too. Course they do.
The sweated legend in the crown of his hat told him mutely: Plasto's high
grade ha. He peeped quickly inside the leather headband. White slip of
paper. Quite safe.


On the doorstep he felt in his hip pocket for the latchkey. Not there.
In the trousers I left off. Must get it. Potato I have. Creaky wardrobe.
No use disturbing her. She turned over sleepily that time. He pulled the
halldoor to after him very quietlymoretill the footleaf dropped gently



over the thresholda limp lid. Looked shut. All right till I come back
anyhow.

He crossed to the bright sideavoiding the loose cellarflap of number
seventyfive. The sun was nearing the steeple of George's church. Be a warm
day I fancy. Specially in these black clothes feel it more. Black
conductsreflects(refracts is it?)the heat. But I couldn't go in that
light suit. Make a picnic of it. His eyelids sank quietly often as he
walked in happy warmth. Boland's breadvan delivering with trays our daily
but she prefers yesterday's loaves turnovers crisp crowns hot. Makes you
feel young. Somewhere in the east: early morning: set off at dawn. Travel
round in front of the sunsteal a day's march on him. Keep it up for ever
never grow a day older technically. Walk along a strandstrange land
come to a city gatesentry thereold ranker tooold Tweedy's big
moustachesleaning on a long kind of a spear. Wander through awned
streets. Turbaned faces going by. Dark caves of carpet shopsbig man
Turko the terribleseated crossleggedsmoking a coiled pipe. Cries of
sellers in the streets. Drink water scented with fennelsherbet. Dander
along all day. Might meet a robber or two. Wellmeet him. Getting on to
sundown. The shadows of the mosques among the pillars: priest with a
scroll rolled up. A shiver of the treessignalthe evening wind. I pass
on. Fading gold sky. A mother watches me from her doorway. She calls her
children home in their dark language. High wall: beyond strings twanged.
Night skymoonvioletcolour of Molly's new garters. Strings. Listen.
A girl playing one of those instruments what do you call them: dulcimers.
I pass.

Probably not a bit like it really. Kind of stuff you read: in the track of
the sun. Sunburst on the titlepage. He smiledpleasing himself. What
Arthur Griffith said about the headpiece over the FREEMAN leader: a
homerule sun rising up in the northwest from the laneway behind the bank
of Ireland. He prolonged his pleased smile. Ikey touch that: homerule sun
rising up in the north-west.

He approached Larry O'Rourke's. From the cellar grating floated up
the flabby gush of porter. Through the open doorway the bar squirted out
whiffs of gingerteadustbiscuitmush. Good househowever: just the end
of the city traffic. For instance M'Auley's down there: n. g. as position.
Of course if they ran a tramline along the North Circular from the
cattlemarket to the quays value would go up like a shot.

Baldhead over the blind. Cute old codger. No use canvassing him for
an ad. Still he knows his own business best. There he issure enoughmy
bold Larryleaning against the sugarbin in his shirtsleeves watching the
aproned curate swab up with mop and bucket. Simon Dedalus takes him
off to a tee with his eyes screwed up. Do you know what I'm going to tell
you? What's thatMr O'Rourke? Do you know what? The Russians
they'd only be an eight o'clock breakfast for the Japanese.

Stop and say a word: about the funeral perhaps. Sad thing about
poor DignamMr O'Rourke.

Turning into Dorset street he said freshly in greeting through the
doorway:

--Good dayMr O'Rourke.

--Good day to you.

--Lovely weathersir.

--'Tis all that.

Where do they get the money? Coming up redheaded curates from


the county Leitrimrinsing empties and old man in the cellar. Thenlo
and beholdthey blossom out as Adam Findlaters or Dan Tallons. Then thin
of the competition. General thirst. Good puzzle would be cross Dublin
without passing a pub. Save it they can't. Off the drunks perhaps. Put
down three and carry five. What is thata bob here and theredribs and
drabs. On the wholesale orders perhaps. Doing a double shuffle with the
town travellers. Square it you with the boss and we'll split the jobsee?

How much would that tot to off the porter in the month? Say ten
barrels of stuff. Say he got ten per cent off. O more. Fifteen. He passed
Saint Joseph's National school. Brats' clamour. Windows open. Fresh air
helps memory. Or a lilt. Ahbeesee defeegee kelomen opeecue rustyouvee
doubleyou. Boys are they? Yes. Inishturk. Inishark. Inishboffin. At their
joggerfry. Mine. Slieve Bloom.

He halted before Dlugacz's windowstaring at the hanks of sausages
poloniesblack and white. Fifteen multiplied by. The figures whitened in
his mindunsolved: displeasedhe let them fade. The shiny linkspacked
with forcemeatfed his gaze and he breathed in tranquilly the lukewarm
breath of cooked spicy pigs' blood.

A kidney oozed bloodgouts on the willowpatterned dish: the last. He
stood by the nextdoor girl at the counter. Would she buy it toocalling
the items from a slip in her hand? Chapped: washingsoda. And a pound and a
half of Denny's sausages. His eyes rested on her vigorous hips. Woods his
name is. Wonder what he does. Wife is oldish. New blood. No followers
allowed. Strong pair of arms. Whacking a carpet on the clothesline. She
does whack itby George. The way her crooked skirt swings at each whack.

The ferreteyed porkbutcher folded the sausages he had snipped off
with blotchy fingerssausagepink. Sound meat there: like a stallfed
heifer.

He took a page up from the pile of cut sheets: the model farm at
Kinnereth on the lakeshore of Tiberias. Can become ideal winter
sanatorium. Moses Montefiore. I thought he was. Farmhousewall round it
blurred cattle cropping. He held the page from him: interesting: read it
nearerthe titlethe blurred cropping cattlethe page rustling. A young
white heifer. Those mornings in the cattlemarketthe beasts lowing in
their pensbranded sheepflop and fall of dungthe breeders in
hobnailed boots trudging through the litterslapping a palm on a
ripemeated hindquarterthere's a prime oneunpeeled switches in their
hands. He held the page aslant patientlybending his senses and his will
his soft subject gaze at rest. The crooked skirt swingingwhack by whack
by whack.

The porkbutcher snapped two sheets from the pilewrapped up her
prime sausages and made a red grimace.

--Nowmy misshe said.

She tendered a coinsmiling boldlyholding her thick wrist out.

--Thank youmy miss. And one shilling threepence change. For you
please?

Mr Bloom pointed quickly. To catch up and walk behind her if she
went slowlybehind her moving hams. Pleasant to see first thing in the
morning. Hurry updamn it. Make hay while the sun shines. She stood
outside the shop in sunlight and sauntered lazily to the right. He sighed
down his nose: they never understand. Sodachapped hands. Crusted
toenails too. Brown scapulars in tattersdefending her both ways. The
sting of disregard glowed to weak pleasure within his breast. For another:
a constable off duty cuddling her in Eccles lane. They like them sizeable.


Prime sausage. O pleaseMr PolicemanI'm lost in the wood.

--Threepenceplease.

His hand accepted the moist tender gland and slid it into a sidepocket.
Then it fetched up three coins from his trousers' pocket and laid them on
the rubber prickles. They laywere read quickly and quickly sliddisc by
discinto the till.

--Thank yousir. Another time.

A speck of eager fire from foxeyes thanked him. He withdrew his
gaze after an instant. No: better not: another time.

--Good morninghe saidmoving away.

--Good morningsir.

No sign. Gone. What matter?

He walked back along Dorset streetreading gravely. Agendath
Netaim: planters' company. To purchase waste sandy tracts from Turkish
government and plant with eucalyptus trees. Excellent for shadefuel and
construction. Orangegroves and immense melonfields north of Jaffa. You
pay eighty marks and they plant a dunam of land for you with olives
orangesalmonds or citrons. Olives cheaper: oranges need artificial
irrigation. Every year you get a sending of the crop. Your name entered
for life as owner in the book of the union. Can pay ten down and the
balance in yearly instalments. Bleibtreustrasse 34BerlinW. 15.

Nothing doing. Still an idea behind it.

He looked at the cattleblurred in silver heat. Silverpowdered
olivetrees. Quiet long days: pruningripening. Olives are packed in jars
eh? I have a few left from Andrews. Molly spitting them out. Knows the
taste of them now. Oranges in tissue paper packed in crates. Citrons too.
Wonder is poor Citron still in Saint Kevin's parade. And Mastiansky with
the old cither. Pleasant evenings we had then. Molly in Citron's
basketchair. Nice to holdcool waxen fruithold in the handlift it to
the nostrils and smell the perfume. Like thatheavysweetwild perfume.
Always the sameyear after year. They fetched high prices tooMoisel
told me. Arbutus place: Pleasants street: pleasant old times. Must be
without a flawhe said. Coming all that way: SpainGibraltar
Mediterraneanthe Levant. Crates lined up on the quayside at Jaffachap
ticking them off in a booknavvies handling them barefoot in soiled
dungarees. There's whatdoyoucallhim out of. How do you? Doesn't see. Chap
you know just to salute bit of a bore. His back is like that Norwegian
captain's. Wonder if I'll meet him today. Watering cart. To provoke the
rain. On earth as it is in heaven.

A cloud began to cover the sun slowlywholly. Grey. Far.

Nonot like that. A barren landbare waste. Vulcanic lakethe dead
sea: no fishweedlesssunk deep in the earth. No wind could lift those
wavesgrey metalpoisonous foggy waters. Brimstone they called it
raining down: the cities of the plain: SodomGomorrahEdom. All dead
names. A dead sea in a dead landgrey and old. Old now. It bore the
oldestthe first race. A bent hag crossed from Cassidy'sclutching a
naggin bottle by the neck. The oldest people. Wandered far away over all
the earthcaptivity to captivitymultiplyingdyingbeing born
everywhere. It lay there now. Now it could bear no more. Dead: an old
woman's: the grey sunken cunt of the world.

Desolation.


Grey horror seared his flesh. Folding the page into his pocket he
turned into Eccles streethurrying homeward. Cold oils slid along his
veinschilling his blood: age crusting him with a salt cloak. WellI am
here now. YesI am here now. Morning mouth bad images. Got up wrong side
of the bed. Must begin again those Sandow's exercises. On the hands down.
Blotchy brown brick houses. Number eighty still unlet. Why is that?
Valuation is only twenty-eight. TowersBattersbyNorthMacArthur:
parlour windows plastered with bills. Plasters on a sore eye. To smell the
gentle smoke of teafume of the pansizzling butter. Be near her ample
bedwarmed flesh. Yesyes.

Quick warm sunlight came running from Berkeley roadswiftlyin
slim sandalsalong the brightening footpath. Runsshe runs to meet mea
girl with gold hair on the wind.

Two letters and a card lay on the hallfloor. He stooped and gathered
them. Mrs Marion Bloom. His quickened heart slowed at once. Bold hand.
Mrs Marion.

--Poldy!

Entering the bedroom he halfclosed his eyes and walked through
warm yellow twilight towards her tousled head.

--Who are the letters for?

He looked at them. Mullingar. Milly.

--A letter for me from Millyhe said carefullyand a card to you. And a
letter for you.

He laid her card and letter on the twill bedspread near the curve of
her knees.

--Do you want the blind up?

Letting the blind up by gentle tugs halfway his backward eye saw her
glance at the letter and tuck it under her pillow.

--That do? he askedturning.

She was reading the cardpropped on her elbow.

--She got the thingsshe said.

He waited till she had laid the card aside and curled herself back
slowly with a snug sigh.

--Hurry up with that teashe said. I'm parched.

--The kettle is boilinghe said.

But he delayed to clear the chair: her striped petticoattossed soiled
linen: and lifted all in an armful on to the foot of the bed.

As he went down the kitchen stairs she called:

--Poldy!

--What?

--Scald the teapot.


On the boil sure enough: a plume of steam from the spout. He
scalded and rinsed out the teapot and put in four full spoons of tea
tilting the kettle then to let the water flow in. Having set it to draw he
took off the kettlecrushed the pan flat on the live coals and watched
the lump of butter slide and melt. While he unwrapped the kidney the cat
mewed hungrily against him. Give her too much meat she won't mouse. Say
they won't eat pork. Kosher. Here. He let the bloodsmeared paper fall to
her and dropped the kidney amid the sizzling butter sauce. Pepper. He
sprinkled it through his fingers ringwise from the chipped eggcup.

Then he slit open his letterglancing down the page and over.
Thanks: new tam: Mr Coghlan: lough Owel picnic: young student: Blazes
Boylan's seaside girls.

The tea was drawn. He filled his own moustachecupsham crown

Derbysmiling. Silly Milly's birthday gift. Only five she was then. No
wait: four. I gave her the amberoid necklace she broke. Putting pieces of
folded brown paper in the letterbox for her. He smiledpouring.

OMILLY BLOOMYOU ARE MY DARLING.

YOU ARE MY LOOKINGGLASS FROM NIGHT TO MORNING.

I'D RATHER HAVE YOU WITHOUT A FARTHING

THAN KATEY KEOGH WITH HER ASS AND GARDEN.

Poor old professor Goodwin. Dreadful old case. Still he was a
courteous old chap. Oldfashioned way he used to bow Molly off the
platform. And the little mirror in his silk hat. The night Milly brought
it into the parlour. Olook what I found in professor Goodwin's hat! All
we laughed. Sex breaking out even then. Pert little piece she was.

He prodded a fork into the kidney and slapped it over: then fitted the
teapot on the tray. Its hump bumped as he took it up. Everything on it?
Bread and butterfoursugarspoonher cream. Yes. He carried it
upstairshis thumb hooked in the teapot handle.

Nudging the door open with his knee he carried the tray in and set it
on the chair by the bedhead.

--What a time you were! she said.

She set the brasses jingling as she raised herself brisklyan elbow on
the pillow. He looked calmly down on her bulk and between her large soft
bubssloping within her nightdress like a shegoat's udder. The warmth of
her couched body rose on the airmingling with the fragrance of the tea
she poured.

A strip of torn envelope peeped from under the dimpled pillow. In the
act of going he stayed to straighten the bedspread.

--Who was the letter from? he asked.

Bold hand. Marion.

--OBoylanshe said. He's bringing the programme.

--What are you singing?

--LA CI DAREM with J. C. Doyleshe saidand LOVE'S OLD SWEET SONG.

Her full lipsdrinkingsmiled. Rather stale smell that incense leaves


next day. Like foul flowerwater.

--Would you like the window open a little?

She doubled a slice of bread into her mouthasking:

--What time is the funeral?

--ElevenI thinkhe answered. I didn't see the paper.

Following the pointing of her finger he took up a leg of her soiled
drawers from the bed. No? Thena twisted grey garter looped round a
stocking: rumpledshiny sole.

--No: that book.

Other stocking. Her petticoat.

--It must have fell downshe said.

He felt here and there. VOGLIO E NON VORREI. Wonder if she pronounces
that right: VOGLIO. Not in the bed. Must have slid down. He stooped and
lifted the valance. The bookfallensprawled against the bulge of the
orangekeyed chamberpot.

--Show hereshe said. I put a mark in it. There's a word I wanted to ask
you.

She swallowed a draught of tea from her cup held by nothandle and
having wiped her fingertips smartly on the blanketbegan to search the
text with the hairpin till she reached the word.

--Met him what? he asked.

--Hereshe said. What does that mean?

He leaned downward and read near her polished thumbnail.

--Metempsychosis?

--Yes. Who's he when he's at home?

--Metempsychosishe saidfrowning. It's Greek: from the Greek. That
means the transmigration of souls.

--Orocks! she said. Tell us in plain words.

He smiledglancing askance at her mocking eyes. The same young
eyes. The first night after the charades. Dolphin's Barn. He turned over
the smudged pages. RUBY: THE PRIDE OF THE RING. Hello. Illustration.
Fierce Italian with carriagewhip. Must be Ruby pride of the on the floor
naked. Sheet kindly lent. THE MONSTER MAFFEI DESISTED AND FLUNG HIS
VICTIM FROM HIM WITH AN OATH. Cruelty behind it all. Doped animals.
Trapeze at Hengler's. Had to look the other way. Mob gaping. Break your
neck and we'll break our sides. Families of them. Bone them young so they
metamspychosis. That we live after death. Our souls. That a man's soul
after he dies. Dignam's soul ...

--Did you finish it? he asked.

--Yesshe said. There's nothing smutty in it. Is she in love with the
first fellow all the time?

--Never read it. Do you want another?


--Yes. Get another of Paul de Kock's. Nice name he has.

She poured more tea into her cupwatching it flow sideways.

Must get that Capel street library book renewed or they'll write to
Kearneymy guarantor. Reincarnation: that's the word.

--Some people believehe saidthat we go on living in another body
after deaththat we lived before. They call it reincarnation. That we all
lived before on the earth thousands of years ago or some other planet.
They say we have forgotten it. Some say they remember their past lives.

The sluggish cream wound curdling spirals through her tea. Bette
remind her of the word: metempsychosis. An example would be better. An
example?

The BATH OF THE NYMPH over the bed. Given away with the Easter
number of PHOTO BITS: Splendid masterpiece in art colours. Tea before you
put milk in. Not unlike her with her hair down: slimmer. Three and six I
gave for the frame. She said it would look nice over the bed. Naked
nymphs: Greece: and for instance all the people that lived then.

He turned the pages back.

--Metempsychosishe saidis what the ancient Greeks called it. They
used to believe you could be changed into an animal or a treefor
instance. What they called nymphsfor example.

Her spoon ceased to stir up the sugar. She gazed straight before her
inhaling through her arched nostrils.

--There's a smell of burnshe said. Did you leave anything on the fire?

--The kidney! he cried suddenly.

He fitted the book roughly into his inner pocket andstubbing his toes
against the broken commodehurried out towards the smellstepping
hastily down the stairs with a flurried stork's legs. Pungent smoke shot
up in an angry jet from a side of the pan. By prodding a prong of the fork
under the kidney he detached it and turned it turtle on its back. Only a
little burnt. He tossed it off the pan on to a plate and let the scanty
brown gravy trickle over it.

Cup of tea now. He sat downcut and buttered a slice of the loaf. He
shore away the burnt flesh and flung it to the cat. Then he put a forkful
into his mouthchewing with discernment the toothsome pliant meat. Done
to a turn. A mouthful of tea. Then he cut away dies of breadsopped one
in the gravy and put it in his mouth. What was that about some young
student and a picnic? He creased out the letter at his sidereading it
slowly as he chewedsopping another die of bread in the gravy and raising
it to his mouth.

Dearest Papli

Thanks ever so much for the lovely birthday present. It suits me
splendid. Everyone says I am quite the belle in my new tam. I got mummy's
Iovely box of creams and am writing. They are lovely. I am getting on
swimming in the photo business now. Mr Coghlan took one of me and Mrs.
Will send when developed. We did great biz yesterday. Fair day and all the
beef to the heels were in. We are going to lough Owel on Monday with a
few friends to make a scrap picnic. Give my love to mummy and to yourself
a big kiss and thanks. I hear them at the piano downstairs. There is to be


a concert in the Greville Arms on Saturday. There is a young student comes
here some evenings named Bannon his cousins or something are big swells
and he sings Boylan's (I was on the pop of writing Blazes Boylan's) song
about those seaside girls. Tell him silly Milly sends my best respects. I
must now close with fondest love

Your fond daughterMILLY.

P. S. Excuse bad writing am in hurry. Byby. M.
Fifteen yesterday. Curiousfifteenth of the month too. Her first
birthday away from home. Separation. Remember the summer morning she
was bornrunning to knock up Mrs Thornton in Denzille street. Jolly old
woman. Lot of babies she must have helped into the world. She knew from
the first poor little Rudy wouldn't live. WellGod is goodsir. She knew
at once. He would be eleven now if he had lived.

His vacant face stared pityingly at the postscript. Excuse bad writing.
Hurry. Piano downstairs. Coming out of her shell. Row with her in the XL
Cafe about the bracelet. Wouldn't eat her cakes or speak or look.
Saucebox. He sopped other dies of bread in the gravy and ate piece after
piece of kidney. Twelve and six a week. Not much. Stillshe might do
worse. Music hall stage. Young student. He drank a draught of cooler tea
to wash down his meal. Then he read the letter again: twice.

Owell: she knows how to mind herself. But if not? Nonothing has
happened. Of course it might. Wait in any case till it does. A wild piece
of goods. Her slim legs running up the staircase. Destiny. Ripening now.

Vain: very.

He smiled with troubled affection at the kitchen window. Day I
caught her in the street pinching her cheeks to make them red. Anemic a
little. Was given milk too long. On the ERIN'S KING that day round the
Kish. Damned old tub pitching about. Not a bit funky. Her pale blue scarf
loose in the wind with her hair.

ALL DIMPLED CHEEKS AND CURLS

YOUR HEAD IT SIMPLY SWIRLS.

Seaside girls. Torn envelope. Hands stuck in his trousers' pocketsjarvey
off for the daysinging. Friend of the family. Swurlshe says. Pier with
lampssummer eveningband

THOSE GIRLSTHOSE GIRLS

THOSE LOVELY SEASIDE GIRLS.

Milly too. Young kisses: the first. Far away now past. Mrs Marion.
Readinglying back nowcounting the strands of her hairsmiling
braiding.

A soft qualmregretflowed down his backboneincreasing. Will
happenyes. Prevent. Useless: can't move. Girl's sweet light lips. Will
happen too. He felt the flowing qualm spread over him. Useless to move
now. Lips kissedkissingkissed. Full gluey woman's lips.


Better where she is down there: away. Occupy her. Wanted a dog to
pass the time. Might take a trip down there. August bank holidayonly two
and six return. Six weeks offhowever. Might work a press pass. Or
through M'Coy.


The cathaving cleaned all her furreturned to the meatstained paper
nosed at it and stalked to the door. She looked back at himmewing. Wants
to go out. Wait before a door sometime it will open. Let her wait. Has the
fidgets. Electric. Thunder in the air. Was washing at her ear with her
back to the fire too.


He felt heavyfull: then a gentle loosening of his bowels. He stood up
undoing the waistband of his trousers. The cat mewed to him.


--Miaow! he said in answer. Wait till I'm ready.


Heaviness: hot day coming. Too much trouble to fag up the stairs to
the landing.


A paper. He liked to read at stool. Hope no ape comes knocking just
as I'm.


In the tabledrawer he found an old number of TITBITS. He folded it
under his armpitwent to the door and opened it. The cat went up in soft
bounds. Ahwanted to go upstairscurl up in a ball on the bed.


Listeninghe heard her voice:


--Comecomepussy. Come.


He went out through the backdoor into the garden: stood to listen
towards the next garden. No sound. Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry.
The maid was in the garden. Fine morning.


He bent down to regard a lean file of spearmint growing by the wall.
Make a summerhouse here. Scarlet runners. Virginia creepers. Want to
manure the whole place overscabby soil. A coat of liver of sulphur. All
soil like that without dung. Household slops. Loamwhat is this that is?
The hens in the next garden: their droppings are very good top dressing.
Best of all though are the cattleespecially when they are fed on those
oilcakes. Mulch of dung. Best thing to clean ladies' kid gloves.
Dirty cleans. Ashes too. Reclaim the whole place. Grow peas in that corner
there. Lettuce. Always have fresh greens then. Still gardens have their
drawbacks. That bee or bluebottle here Whitmonday.


He walked on. Where is my hatby the way? Must have put it back
on the peg. Or hanging up on the floor. Funny I don't remember that.
Hallstand too full. Four umbrellasher raincloak. Picking up the letters.
Drago's shopbell ringing. Queer I was just thinking that moment. Brown
brillantined hair over his collar. Just had a wash and brushup. Wonder
have I time for a bath this morning. Tara street. Chap in the paybox there
got away James Stephensthey say. O'Brien.


Deep voice that fellow Dlugacz has. Agendath what is it? Nowmy
miss. Enthusiast.


He kicked open the crazy door of the jakes. Better be careful not to get
these trousers dirty for the funeral. He went inbowing his head under
the low lintel. Leaving the door ajaramid the stench of mouldy limewash
and stale cobwebs he undid his braces. Before sitting down he peered
through a chink up at the nextdoor windows. The king was in his
countinghouse. Nobody.


Asquat on the cuckstool he folded out his paperturning its pages



over on his bared knees. Something new and easy. No great hurry. Keep it
a bit. Our prize titbit: MATCHAM'S MASTERSTROKE. Written by Mr Philip
BeaufoyPlaygoers' ClubLondon. Payment at the rate of one guinea a
column has been made to the writer. Three and a half. Three pounds three.
Three poundsthirteen and six.

Quietly he readrestraining himselfthe first column andyielding but
resistingbegan the second. Midwayhis last resistance yieldinghe
allowed his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he readreading still
patiently that slight constipation of yesterday quite gone. Hope it's not
too big bring on piles again. Nojust right. So. Ah! Costive. One tabloid
of cascara sagrada. Life might be so. It did not move or touch him but it
was something quick and neat. Print anything now. Silly season. He read
onseated calm above his own rising smell. Neat certainly. MATCHAM OFTEN
THINKS OF THE MASTERSTROKE BY WHICH HE WON THE LAUGHING WITCH WHO NOW.
Begins and ends morally. HAND IN HAND. Smart. He glanced back through what
he had read andwhile feeling his water flow quietlyhe envied kindly
Mr Beaufoy who had written it and received payment of three pounds
thirteen and six.

Might manage a sketch. By Mr and Mrs L. M. Bloom. Invent a story
for some proverb. Which? Time I used to try jotting down on my cuff what
she said dressing. Dislike dressing together. Nicked myself shaving.
Biting her nether liphooking the placket of her skirt. Timing her. 9.l5.
Did Roberts pay you yet? 9.20. What had Gretta Conroy on? 9.23. What
possessed me to buy this comb? 9.24. I'm swelled after that cabbage. A
speck of dust on the patent leather of her boot.

Rubbing smartly in turn each welt against her stockinged calf. Morning
after the bazaar dance when May's band played Ponchielli's dance of
the hours. Explain that: morning hoursnoonthen evening coming on
then night hours. Washing her teeth. That was the first night. Her head
dancing. Her fansticks clicking. Is that Boylan well off? He has money.
Why? I noticed he had a good rich smell off his breath dancing. No use
humming then. Allude to it. Strange kind of music that last night.
The mirror was in shadow. She rubbed her handglass briskly on her
woollen vest against her full wagging bub. Peering into it. Lines in
her eyes. It wouldn't pan out somehow.

Evening hoursgirls in grey gauze. Night hours then: black with
daggers and eyemasks. Poetical idea: pinkthen goldenthen greythen
black. Stilltrue to life also. Day: then the night.

He tore away half the prize story sharply and wiped himself with it.
Then he girded up his trousersbraced and buttoned himself. He pulled
back the jerky shaky door of the jakes and came forth from the gloom into
the air.

In the bright lightlightened and cooled in limbhe eyed carefully his
black trousers: the endsthe kneesthe houghs of the knees. What time is
the funeral? Better find out in the paper.

A creak and a dark whirr in the air high up. The bells of George's
church. They tolled the hour: loud dark iron.

HEIGHO! HEIGHO!
HEIGHO! HEIGHO!
HEIGHO! HEIGHO!


Quarter to. There again: the overtone following through the airthird.

Poor Dignam!


* * * * * * *

By lorries along sir John Rogerson's quay Mr Bloom walked soberly
past Windmill laneLeask's the linseed crusherthe postal telegraph
office. Could have given that address too. And past the sailors' home.
He turned from the morning noises of the quayside and walked through Lime
street. By Brady's cottages a boy for the skins lolledhis bucket of
offal linkedsmoking a chewed fagbutt. A smaller girl with scars of
eczema on her forehead eyed himlistlessly holding her battered caskhoop.
Tell him if he smokes he won't grow. O let him! His life isn't such a bed
of roses. Waiting outside pubs to bring da home. Come home to mada.
Slack hour: won't be many there. He crossed Townsend streetpassed the
frowning face of Bethel. Elyes: house of: AlephBeth. And past Nichols'
the undertaker. At eleven it is. Time enough. Daresay Corny Kelleher
bagged the job for O'Neill's. Singing with his eyes shut. Corny. Met her
once in the park. In the dark. What a lark. Police tout. Her name and
address she then told with my tooraloom tooraloom tay. Osurely he bagged
it. Bury him cheap in a whatyoumaycall. With my tooraloomtooraloom
tooraloomtooraloom.

In Westland row he halted before the window of the Belfast and
Oriental Tea Company and read the legends of leadpapered packets: choice
blendfinest qualityfamily tea. Rather warm. Tea. Must get some from
Tom Kernan. Couldn't ask him at a funeralthough. While his eyes still
read blandly he took off his hat quietly inhaling his hairoil and sent his
right hand with slow grace over his brow and hair. Very warm morning.
Under their dropped lids his eyes found the tiny bow of the leather
headband inside his high grade ha. Just there. His right hand came down
into the bowl of his hat. His fingers found quickly a card behind the
headband and transferred it to his waistcoat pocket.

So warm. His right hand once more more slowly went over his brow
and hair. Then he put on his hat againrelieved: and read again: choice
blendmade of the finest Ceylon brands. The far east. Lovely spot it must
be: the garden of the worldbig lazy leaves to float about oncactuses
flowery meadssnaky lianas they call them. Wonder is it like that. Those
Cinghalese lobbing about in the sun in DOLCE FAR NIENTEnot doing a
hand's turn all day. Sleep six months out of twelve. Too hot to quarrel.
Influence of the climate. Lethargy. Flowers of idleness. The air feeds
most. Azotes. Hothouse in Botanic gardens. Sensitive plants. Waterlilies.
Petals too tired to. Sleeping sickness in the air. Walk on roseleaves.
Imagine trying to eat tripe and cowheel. Where was the chap I saw in that
picture somewhere? Ah yesin the dead sea floating on his backreading a
book with a parasol open. Couldn't sink if you tried: so thick with salt.
Because the weight of the waternothe weight of the body in the water
is equal to the weight of the what? Or is it the volume is equal to the
weight? It's a law something like that. Vance in High school cracking his
fingerjointsteaching. The college curriculum. Cracking curriculum. What
is weight really when you say the weight? Thirtytwo feet per second per
second. Law of falling bodies: per second per second. They all fall to the
ground. The earth. It's the force of gravity of the earth is the weight.

He turned away and sauntered across the road. How did she walk
with her sausages? Like that something. As he walked he took the folded
FREEMAN from his sidepocketunfolded itrolled it lengthwise in a baton
and tapped it at each sauntering step against his trouserleg. Careless
air: just drop in to see. Per second per second. Per second for every
second it means. From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the
door of the postoffice. Too late box. Post here. No-one. In.

He handed the card through the brass grill.


--Are there any letters for me? he asked.

While the postmistress searched a pigeonhole he gazed at the
recruiting poster with soldiers of all arms on parade: and held the tip of
his baton against his nostrilssmelling freshprinted rag paper. No answer
probably. Went too far last time.

The postmistress handed him back through the grill his card with a
letter. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the typed envelope.

Henry Flower Esq
c/o P. O. Westland Row
City.

Answered anyhow. He slipped card and letter into his sidepocket
reviewing again the soldiers on parade. Where's old Tweedy's regiment?
Castoff soldier. There: bearskin cap and hackle plume. Nohe's a
grenadier. Pointed cuffs. There he is: royal Dublin fusiliers. Redcoats.
Too showy. That must be why the women go after them. Uniform. Easier to
enlist and drill. Maud Gonne's letter about taking them off O'Connell
street at night: disgrace to our Irish capital. Griffith's paper is on the
same tack now: an army rotten with venereal disease: overseas or
halfseasover empire. Half baked they look: hypnotised like. Eyes front.
Mark time. Table: able. Bed: ed. The King's own. Never see him dressed up
as a fireman or a bobby. A masonyes.

He strolled out of the postoffice and turned to the right. Talk: as if
that would mend matters. His hand went into his pocket and a forefinger
felt its way under the flap of the enveloperipping it open in jerks.
Women will pay a lot of heedI don't think. His fingers drew forth the
letter the letter and crumpled the envelope in his pocket. Something
pinned on: photo perhaps. Hair? No.

M'Coy. Get rid of him quickly. Take me out of my way. Hate company
when you.

--HelloBloom. Where are you off to?

--HelloM'Coy. Nowhere in particular.

--How's the body?

--Fine. How are you?

--Just keeping aliveM'Coy said.

His eyes on the black tie and clothes he asked with low respect:

--Is there any ... no trouble I hope? I see you're ...

--OnoMr Bloom said. Poor Dignamyou know. The funeral is today.

--To be surepoor fellow. So it is. What time?

A photo it isn't. A badge maybe.

--E ... elevenMr Bloom answered.

--I must try to get out thereM'Coy said. Elevenis it? I only heard it
last night. Who was telling me? Holohan. You know Hoppy?


--I know.

Mr Bloom gazed across the road at the outsider drawn up before the
door of the Grosvenor. The porter hoisted the valise up on the well. She
stood stillwaitingwhile the manhusbandbrotherlike hersearched
his pockets for change. Stylish kind of coat with that roll collarwarm
for a day like thislooks like blanketcloth. Careless stand of her with
her hands in those patch pockets. Like that haughty creature at the polo
match. Women all for caste till you touch the spot. Handsome is and
handsome does. Reserved about to yield. The honourable Mrs and Brutus is
an honourable man. Possess her once take the starch out of her.

--I was with Bob Doranhe's on one of his periodical bendsand what do
you call him Bantam Lyons. Just down there in Conway's we were.

Doran Lyons in Conway's. She raised a gloved hand to her hair. In
came Hoppy. Having a wet. Drawing back his head and gazing far from
beneath his vailed eyelids he saw the bright fawn skin shine in the glare
the braided drums. Clearly I can see today. Moisture about gives long
sight perhaps. Talking of one thing or another. Lady's hand. Which side
will she get up?

--And he said: SAD THING ABOUT OUR POOR FRIEND PADDY! WHAT PADDY? I said.
POOR LITTLE PADDY DIGNAMhe said.

Off to the country: Broadstone probably. High brown boots with
laces dangling. Wellturned foot. What is he foostering over that change
for? Sees me looking. Eye out for other fellow always. Good fallback. Two
strings to her bow.

--WHY? I said. WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM? I said.

Proud: rich: silk stockings.

--YesMr Bloom said.

He moved a little to the side of M'Coy's talking head. Getting up in a
minute.

--WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM? He said. HE'S DEADhe said. Andfaithhe
filled up. IS IT PADDY DIGNAM? I said. I couldn't believe it when I heard
it. I was with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it in the
Arch. YEShe said. HE'S GONE. HE DIED ON MONDAYPOOR FELLOW. Watch!
Watch! Silk flash rich stockings white. Watch!

A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between.

Lost it. Curse your noisy pugnose. Feels locked out of it. Paradise and
the peri. Always happening like that. The very moment. Girl in Eustace
street hallway Monday was it settling her garter. Her friend covering the
display of. ESPRIT DE CORPS. Wellwhat are you gaping at?

--YesyesMr Bloom said after a dull sigh. Another gone.

--One of the bestM'Coy said.

The tram passed. They drove off towards the Loop Line bridgeher
rich gloved hand on the steel grip. Flickerflicker: the laceflare of her
hat in the sun: flickerflick.

--Wife wellI suppose? M'Coy's changed voice said.

--OyesMr Bloom said. Tiptopthanks.


He unrolled the newspaper baton idly and read idly:

WHAT IS HOME WITHOUT
PLUMTREE'S POTTED MEAT?
INCOMPLETE
WITH IT AN ABODE OF BLISS.


--My missus has just got an engagement. At least it's not settled yet.


Valise tack again. By the way no harm. I'm off thatthanks.


Mr Bloom turned his largelidded eyes with unhasty friendliness.


--My wife toohe said. She's going to sing at a swagger affair in the
Ulster HallBelfaston the twenty-fifth.


--That so? M'Coy said. Glad to hear thatold man. Who's getting it up?


Mrs Marion Bloom. Not up yet. Queen was in her bedroom eating
bread and. No book. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens.
Dark lady and fair man. Letter. Cat furry black ball. Torn strip of
envelope.


LOVE'S
OLD
SWEET
SONG
COMES LO-OVE'S OLD ...


--It's a kind of a tourdon't you seeMr Bloom said thoughtfully.
SWEEEET SONG. There's a committee formed. Part shares and part profits.

M'Coy noddedpicking at his moustache stubble.

--Owellhe said. That's good news.

He moved to go.

--Wellglad to see you looking fithe said. Meet you knocking around.

--YesMr Bloom said.

--Tell you whatM'Coy said. You might put down my name at the funeral
will you? I'd like to go but I mightn't be ableyou see. There's a
drowning case at Sandycove may turn up and then the coroner and myself
would have to go down if the body is found. You just shove in my name if
I'm not therewill you?

--I'll do thatMr Bloom saidmoving to get off. That'll be all right.

--RightM'Coy said brightly. Thanksold man. I'd go if I possibly
could. Welltolloll. Just C. P. M'Coy will do.

--That will be doneMr Bloom answered firmly.

Didn't catch me napping that wheeze. The quick touch. Soft mark.
I'd like my job. Valise I have a particular fancy for. Leather. Capped
cornersrivetted edgesdouble action lever lock. Bob Cowley lent him his
for the Wicklow regatta concert last year and never heard tidings of it
from that good day to this.

Mr Bloomstrolling towards Brunswick streetsmiled. My missus has


just got an. Reedy freckled soprano. Cheeseparing nose. Nice enough in its
way: for a little ballad. No guts in it. You and medon't you know: in
the same boat. Softsoaping. Give you the needle that would. Can't he hear
the difference? Think he's that way inclined a bit. Against my grain
somehow. Thought that Belfast would fetch him. I hope that smallpox up
there doesn't get worse. Suppose she wouldn't let herself be vaccinated
again. Your wife and my wife.

Wonder is he pimping after me?

Mr Bloom stood at the cornerhis eyes wandering over the
multicoloured hoardings. Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale (Aromatic).
Clery's Summer Sale. Nohe's going on straight. Hello. LEAH tonight. Mrs
Bandmann Palmer. Like to see her again in that. HAMLET she played last
night. Male impersonator. Perhaps he was a woman. Why Ophelia
committed suicide. Poor papa! How he used to talk of Kate Bateman in
that. Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the afternoon to get in.
Year before I was born that was: sixtyfive. And Ristori in Vienna. What is
this the right name is? By Mosenthal it is. Rachelis it? No. The scene
he was always talking about where the old blind Abraham recognises the
voice and puts his fingers on his face.

Nathan's voice! His son's voice! I hear the voice of Nathan who left
his father to die of grief and misery in my armswho left the house of
his father and left the God of his father.

Every word is so deepLeopold.

Poor papa! Poor man! I'm glad I didn't go into the room to look at
his face. That day! Odear! Odear! Ffoo! Wellperhaps it was best for
him.

Mr Bloom went round the corner and passed the drooping nags of the
hazard. No use thinking of it any more. Nosebag time. Wish I hadn't met
that M'Coy fellow.

He came nearer and heard a crunching of gilded oatsthe gently
champing teeth. Their full buck eyes regarded him as he went byamid the
sweet oaten reek of horsepiss. Their Eldorado. Poor jugginses! Damn all
they know or care about anything with their long noses stuck in nosebags.
Too full for words. Still they get their feed all right and their doss.
Gelded too: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their
haunches. Might be happy all the same that way. Good poor brutes they
look. Still their neigh can be very irritating.

He drew the letter from his pocket and folded it into the newspaper he
carried. Might just walk into her here. The lane is safer.

He passed the cabman's shelter. Curious the life of drifting cabbies.
All weathersall placestime or setdownno will of their own.
VOGLIO E NON. Like to give them an odd cigarette. Sociable. Shout a few
flying syllables as they pass. He hummed:

LA CI DAREM LA MANO
LA LA LALA LA LA.


He turned into Cumberland street andgoing on some paceshalted
in the lee of the station wall. No-one. Meade's timberyard. Piled balks.
Ruins and tenements. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court
with its forgotten pickeystone. Not a sinner. Near the timberyard a
squatted child at marblesaloneshooting the taw with a cunnythumb. A
wise tabbya blinking sphinxwatched from her warm sill. Pity to disturb


them. Mohammed cut a piece out of his mantle not to wake her. Open it.
And once I played marbles when I went to that old dame's school. She liked
mignonette. Mrs Ellis's. And Mr? He opened the letter within the
newspaper.

A flower. I think it's a. A yellow flower with flattened petals. Not
annoyed then? What does she say?

Dear Henry

I got your last letter to me and thank you very much for it. I am sorry
you did not like my last letter. Why did you enclose the stamps? I am
awfully angry with you. I do wish I could punish you for that. I called
you naughty boy because I do not like that other world. Please tell me
what is the real meaning of that word? Are you not happy in your home you
poor little naughty boy? I do wish I could do something for you. Please
tell me what you think of poor me. I often think of the beautiful name you
have. Dear Henrywhen will we meet? I think of you so often you have no
idea. I have never felt myself so much drawn to a man as you. I feel so
bad about. Please write me a long letter and tell me more. Remember if you
do not I will punish you. So now you know what I will do to youyou
naughty boyif you do not wrote. O how I long to meet you. Henry deardo
not deny my request before my patience are exhausted. Then I will tell you
all. Goodbye nownaughty darlingI have such a bad headache. today. and
write BY RETURN to your longing

Martha

P. S. Do tell me what kind of perfume does your wife use. I want to know.
He tore the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell
and placed it in his heart pocket. Language of flowers. They like it
because no-one can hear. Or a poison bouquet to strike him down. Then
walking slowly forward he read the letter againmurmuring here and there
a word. Angry tulips with you darling manflower punish your cactus if you
don't please poor forgetmenot how I long violets to dear roses when we
soon anemone meet all naughty nightstalk wife Martha's perfume. Having
read it all he took it from the newspaper and put it back in his
sidepocket.

Weak joy opened his lips. Changed since the first letter. Wonder
did she wrote it herself. Doing the indignant: a girl of good
family like merespectable character. Could meet one Sunday after the
rosary. Thank you: not having any. Usual love scrimmage. Then running
round corners. Bad as a row with Molly. Cigar has a cooling effect.
Narcotic. Go further next time. Naughty boy: punish: afraid of wordsof
course. Brutalwhy not? Try it anyhow. A bit at a time.

Fingering still the letter in his pocket he drew the pin out of it.
Common pineh? He threw it on the road. Out of her clothes somewhere:
pinned together. Queer the number of pins they always have. No roses
without thorns.

Flat Dublin voices bawled in his head. Those two sluts that night in
the Coombelinked together in the rain.

OMARY LOST THE PIN OF HER DRAWERS.

SHE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO

TO KEEP IT UP

TO KEEP IT UP.


It? Them. Such a bad headache. Has her roses probably. Or sitting all day
typing. Eyefocus bad for stomach nerves. What perfume does your wife
use. Now could you make out a thing like that?

TO KEEP IT UP.

MarthaMary. I saw that picture somewhere I forget now old master or
faked for money. He is sitting in their housetalking. Mysterious. Also
the two sluts in the Coombe would listen.

TO KEEP IT UP.

Nice kind of evening feeling. No more wandering about. Just loll there:
quiet dusk: let everything rip. Forget. Tell about places you have been
strange customs. The other onejar on her headwas getting the supper:
fruitoliveslovely cool water out of a wellstonecold like the hole in
the wall at Ashtown. Must carry a paper goblet next time I go to the
trottingmatches. She listens with big dark soft eyes. Tell her: more and
more: all. Then a sigh: silence. Long long long rest.

Going under the railway arch he took out the envelopetore it swiftly
in shreds and scattered them towards the road. The shreds fluttered away
sank in the dank air: a white flutterthen all sank.

Henry Flower. You could tear up a cheque for a hundred pounds in
the same way. Simple bit of paper. Lord Iveagh once cashed a sevenfigure
cheque for a million in the bank of Ireland. Shows you the money to be
made out of porter. Still the other brother lord Ardilaun has to change
his shirt four times a daythey say. Skin breeds lice or vermin. A
million poundswait a moment. Twopence a pintfourpence a quart
eightpence a gallon of porternoone and fourpence a gallon of porter.
One and four into twenty: fifteen about. Yesexactly. Fifteen millions of
barrels of porter.

What am I saying barrels? Gallons. About a million barrels all the same.

An incoming train clanked heavily above his headcoach after coach.
Barrels bumped in his head: dull porter slopped and churned inside. The
bungholes sprang open and a huge dull flood leaked outflowing together
winding through mudflats all over the level landa lazy pooling swirl of
liquor bearing along wideleaved flowers of its froth.

He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows. Stepping into the
porch he doffed his hattook the card from his pocket and tucked it again
behind the leather headband. Damn it. I might have tried to work M'Coy
for a pass to Mullingar.

Same notice on the door. Sermon by the very reverend John Conmee

S.J. on saint Peter Claver S.J. and the African Mission. Prayers for the
conversion of Gladstone they had too when he was almost unconscious.
The protestants are the same. Convert Dr William J. Walsh D.D. to the
true religion. Save China's millions. Wonder how they explain it to the
heathen Chinee. Prefer an ounce of opium. Celestials. Rank heresy for
them. Buddha their god lying on his side in the museum. Taking it easy
with hand under his cheek. Josssticks burning. Not like Ecce Homo. Crown
of thorns and cross. Clever idea Saint Patrick the shamrock. Chopsticks?
Conmee: Martin Cunningham knows him: distinguishedlooking. Sorry I
didn't work him about getting Molly into the choir instead of that Father
Farley who looked a fool but wasn't. They're taught that. He's not going
out in bluey specs with the sweat rolling off him to baptise blacksis
he? The glasses would take their fancyflashing. Like to see them sitting
round in a ring with blub lipsentrancedlistening. Still life. Lap it

up like milkI suppose.

The cold smell of sacred stone called him. He trod the worn steps
pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the rere.

Something going on: some sodality. Pity so empty. Nice discreet place
to be next some girl. Who is my neighbour? Jammed by the hour to slow
music. That woman at midnight mass. Seventh heaven. Women knelt in the
benches with crimson halters round their necksheads bowed. A batch knelt
at the altarrails. The priest went along by themmurmuringholding the
thing in his hands. He stopped at eachtook out a communionshook a
drop or two (are they in water?) off it and put it neatly into her mouth.
Her hat and head sank. Then the next one. Her hat sank at once. Then the
next one: a small old woman. The priest bent down to put it into her
mouthmurmuring all the time. Latin. The next one. Shut your eyes and
open your mouth. What? CORPUS: body. Corpse. Good idea the Latin.
Stupefies them first. Hospice for the dying. They don't seem to chew it:
only swallow it down. Rum idea: eating bits of a corpse. Why the cannibals
cotton to it.

He stood aside watching their blind masks pass down the aisleone by
oneand seek their places. He approached a bench and seated himself in
its cornernursing his hat and newspaper. These pots we have to wear. We
ought to have hats modelled on our heads. They were about him here and
therewith heads still bowed in their crimson halterswaiting for it to
melt in their stomachs. Something like those mazzoth: it's that sort of
bread: unleavened shewbread. Look at them. Now I bet it makes them feel
happy. Lollipop. It does. Yesbread of angels it's called. There's a big
idea behind itkind of kingdom of God is within you feel. First
communicants. Hokypoky penny a lump. Then feel all like one family party
same in the theatreall in the same swim. They do. I'm sure of that. Not
so lonely. In our confraternity. Then come out a bit spreeish. Let off
steam. Thing is if you really believe in it. Lourdes curewaters of
oblivionand the Knock apparitionstatues bleeding. Old fellow asleep
near that confessionbox. Hence those snores. Blind faith. Safe in the arms
of kingdom come. Lulls all pain. Wake this time next year.

He saw the priest stow the communion cup awaywell inand kneel
an instant before itshowing a large grey bootsole from under the lace
affair he had on. Suppose he lost the pin of his. He wouldn't know what to
do to. Bald spot behind. Letters on his back: I.N.R.I? No: I.H.S.
Molly told me one time I asked her. I have sinned: or no: I have suffered
it is. And the other one? Iron nails ran in.

Meet one Sunday after the rosary. Do not deny my request. Turn up
with a veil and black bag. Dusk and the light behind her. She might be
here with a ribbon round her neck and do the other thing all the same on
the sly. Their character. That fellow that turned queen's evidence on the
invincibles he used to receive theCarey was his namethe communion
every morning. This very church. Peter Careyyes. NoPeter Claver I am
thinking of. Denis Carey. And just imagine that. Wife and six children
at home. And plotting that murder all the time. Those crawthumpers
now that's a good name for themthere's always something shiftylooking
about them. They're not straight men of business either. Onoshe's
not here: the flower: nono. By the waydid I tear up that envelope?
Yes: under the bridge.

The priest was rinsing out the chalice: then he tossed off the dregs
smartly. Wine. Makes it more aristocratic than for example if he drank
what they are used to Guinness's porter or some temperance beverage
Wheatley's Dublin hop bitters or Cantrell and Cochrane's ginger ale
(aromatic). Doesn't give them any of it: shew wine: only the other. Cold
comfort. Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they'd have one old booser


worse than another coming alongcadging for a drink. Queer the whole
atmosphere of the. Quite right. Perfectly right that is.


Mr Bloom looked back towards the choir. Not going to be any music.
Pity. Who has the organ here I wonder? Old Glynn he knew how to make
that instrument talkthe VIBRATO: fifty pounds a year they say he had in
Gardiner street. Molly was in fine voice that daythe STABAT MATER of
Rossini. Father Bernard Vaughan's sermon first. Christ or Pilate? Christ
but don't keep us all night over it. Music they wanted. Footdrill stopped.
Could hear a pin drop. I told her to pitch her voice against that corner.
I could feel the thrill in the airthe fullthe people looking up:


QUIS EST HOMO.


Some of that old sacred music splendid. Mercadante: seven last
words. Mozart's twelfth mass: GLORIA in that. Those old popes keen on
musicon art and statues and pictures of all kinds. Palestrina for
example too. They had a gay old time while it lasted. Healthy too
chantingregular hoursthen brew liqueurs. Benedictine. Green
Chartreuse. Stillhaving eunuchs in their choir that was coming it a bit
thick. What kind of voice is it? Must be curious to hear after their own
strong basses. Connoisseurs. Suppose they wouldn't feel anything after.
Kind of a placid. No worry. Fall into fleshdon't they? Gluttonstall
long legs. Who knows? Eunuch. One way out of it.


He saw the priest bend down and kiss the altar and then face about
and bless all the people. All crossed themselves and stood up. Mr Bloom
glanced about him and then stood uplooking over the risen hats. Stand up
at the gospel of course. Then all settled down on their knees again and he
sat back quietly in his bench. The priest came down from the altar
holding the thing out from himand he and the massboy answered each other
in Latin. Then the priest knelt down and began to read off a card:


--O Godour refuge and our strength ...


Mr Bloom put his face forward to catch the words. English. Throw
them the bone. I remember slightly. How long since your last mass?
Glorious and immaculate virgin. Josephher spouse. Peter and Paul. More
interesting if you understood what it was all about. Wonderful
organisation certainlygoes like clockwork. Confession. Everyone wants
to. Then I will tell you all. Penance. Punish meplease. Great weapon in
their hands. More than doctor or solicitor. Woman dying to. And I
schschschschschsch. And did you chachachachacha? And why did you? Look
down at her ring to find an excuse. Whispering gallery walls have ears.
Husband learn to his surprise. God's little joke. Then out she comes.
Repentance skindeep. Lovely shame. Pray at an altar. Hail Mary and
Holy Mary. Flowersincensecandles melting. Hide her blushes.
Salvation army blatant imitation. Reformed prostitute will address
the meeting. How I found the Lord. Squareheaded chaps those must be
in Rome: they work the whole show. And don't they rake in the money too?
Bequests also: to the P.P. for the time being in his absolute discretion.
Masses for the repose of my soul to be said publicly with open doors.
Monasteries and convents. The priest in that Fermanagh will case in
the witnessbox. No browbeating him. He had his answer pat for everything.
Liberty and exaltation of our holy mother the church. The doctors of the
church: they mapped out the whole theology of it.


The priest prayed:


--Blessed Michaelarchangeldefend us in the hour of conflict. Be our
safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil (may God restrain
himwe humbly pray!): and do thouO prince of the heavenly hostby the
power of God thrust Satan down to hell and with him those other wicked
spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls.



The priest and the massboy stood up and walked off. All over. The
women remained behind: thanksgiving.

Better be shoving along. Brother Buzz. Come around with the plate
perhaps. Pay your Easter duty.

He stood up. Hello. Were those two buttons of my waistcoat open all
the time? Women enjoy it. Never tell you. But we. Excusemissthere's a
(whh!) just a (whh!) fluff. Or their skirt behindplacket unhooked.
Glimpses of the moon. Annoyed if you don't. Why didn't you tell me
before. Still like you better untidy. Good job it wasn't farther south. He
passeddiscreetly buttoningdown the aisle and out through the main door
into the light. He stood a moment unseeing by the cold black marble bowl
while before him and behind two worshippers dipped furtive hands in the
low tide of holy water. Trams: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a widow in
her weeds. Notice because I'm in mourning myself. He covered himself. How
goes the time? Quarter past. Time enough yet. Better get that lotion made
up. Where is this? Ah yesthe last time. Sweny's in Lincoln place.
Chemists rarely move. Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir.
Hamilton Long'sfounded in the year of the flood. Huguenot churchyard
near there. Visit some day.

He walked southward along Westland row. But the recipe is in the
other trousers. Oand I forgot that latchkey too. Bore this funeral
affair. O wellpoor fellowit's not his fault. When was it I got it made
up last? Wait. I changed a sovereign I remember. First of the month it
must have been or the second. Ohe can look it up in the prescriptions
book.

The chemist turned back page after page. Sandy shrivelled smell he
seems to have. Shrunken skull. And old. Quest for the philosopher's stone.
The alchemists. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Lethargy then.
Why? Reaction. A lifetime in a night. Gradually changes your character.
Living all the day among herbsointmentsdisinfectants. All his
alabaster lilypots. Mortar and pestle. Aq. Dist. Fol. Laur. Te Virid.
Smell almost cure you like the dentist's doorbell. Doctor Whack. He ought
to physic himself a bit. Electuary or emulsion. The first fellow that
picked an herb to cure himself had a bit of pluck. Simples. Want to be
careful. Enough stuff here to chloroform you. Test: turns blue litmus
paper red. Chloroform. Overdose of laudanum. Sleeping draughts.
Lovephiltres. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for cough. Clogs the pores or the
phlegm. Poisons the only cures. Remedy where you least expect it. Clever
of nature.

--About a fortnight agosir?

--YesMr Bloom said.

He waited by the counterinhaling slowly the keen reek of drugsthe
dusty dry smell of sponges and loofahs. Lot of time taken up telling your
aches and pains.

--Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoinMr Bloom saidand then
orangeflower water ...

It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax.

--And white wax alsohe said.

Brings out the darkness of her eyes. Looking at methe sheet up to
her eyesSpanishsmelling herselfwhen I was fixing the links in my
cuffs. Those homely recipes are often the best: strawberries for the
teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say steeped in buttermilk.


Skinfood. One of the old queen's sonsduke of Albany was it? had only one
skin. Leopoldyes. Three we have. Wartsbunions and pimples to make it
worse. But you want a perfume too. What perfume does your? PEAU D'ESPAGNE.
That orangeflower water is so fresh. Nice smell these soaps have. Pure
curd soap. Time to get a bath round the corner. Hammam. Turkish. Massage.
Dirt gets rolled up in your navel. Nicer if a nice girl did it. Also I
think I. Yes I. Do it in the bath. Curious longing I. Water to water.
Combine business with pleasure. Pity no time for massage. Feel fresh then
all the day. Funeral be rather glum.

--Yessirthe chemist said. That was two and nine. Have you brought a
bottle?

--NoMr Bloom said. Make it upplease. I'll call later in the day and
I'll take one of these soaps. How much are they?

--Fourpencesir.

Mr Bloom raised a cake to his nostrils. Sweet lemony wax.

--I'll take this onehe said. That makes three and a penny.

--Yessirthe chemist said. You can pay all togethersirwhen you
come back.

--GoodMr Bloom said.

He strolled out of the shopthe newspaper baton under his armpit
the coolwrappered soap in his left hand.

At his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and hand said:

--HelloBloom. What's the best news? Is that today's? Show us a minute.

Shaved off his moustache againby Jove! Long cold upper lip. To
look younger. He does look balmy. Younger than I am.

Bantam Lyons's yellow blacknailed fingers unrolled the baton. Wants
a wash too. Take off the rough dirt. Good morninghave you used Pears'
soap? Dandruff on his shoulders. Scalp wants oiling.

--I want to see about that French horse that's running todayBantam
Lyons said. Where the bugger is it?

He rustled the pleated pagesjerking his chin on his high collar.
Barber's itch. Tight collar he'll lose his hair. Better leave him the
paper and get shut of him.

--You can keep itMr Bloom said.

--Ascot. Gold cup. WaitBantam Lyons muttered. Half a mo. Maximum
the second.

--I was just going to throw it awayMr Bloom said.

Bantam Lyons raised his eyes suddenly and leered weakly.

--What's that? his sharp voice said.

--I say you can keep itMr Bloom answered. I was going to throw it away
that moment.

Bantam Lyons doubted an instantleering: then thrust the outspread
sheets back on Mr Bloom's arms.


--I'll risk ithe said. Herethanks.

He sped off towards Conway's corner. God speed scut.

Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a neat square and lodged the
soap in itsmiling. Silly lips of that chap. Betting. Regular hotbed of
it lately. Messenger boys stealing to put on sixpence. Raffle for large
tender turkey. Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Jack Fleming
embezzling to gamble then smuggled off to America. Keeps a hotel now. They
never come back. Fleshpots of Egypt.


He walked cheerfully towards the mosque of the baths. Remind you
of a mosqueredbaked bricksthe minarets. College sports today I see. He
eyed the horseshoe poster over the gate of college park: cyclist doubled
up like a cod in a pot. Damn bad ad. Now if they had made it round like a
wheel. Then the spokes: sportssportssports: and the hub big: college.
Something to catch the eye.


There's Hornblower standing at the porter's lodge. Keep him on
hands: might take a turn in there on the nod. How do you doMr
Hornblower? How do you dosir?


Heavenly weather really. If life was always like that. Cricket weather.
Sit around under sunshades. Over after over. Out. They can't play it here.
Duck for six wickets. Still Captain Culler broke a window in the Kildare
street club with a slog to square leg. Donnybrook fair more in their line.
And the skulls we were acracking when M'Carthy took the floor.
Heatwave. Won't last. Always passingthe stream of lifewhich in the
stream of life we trace is dearer than them all.


Enjoy a bath now: clean trough of watercool enamelthe gentle
tepid stream. This is my body.


He foresaw his pale body reclined in it at fullnakedin a womb of
warmthoiled by scented melting soapsoftly laved. He saw his trunk and
limbs riprippled over and sustainedbuoyed lightly upwardlemonyellow:
his navelbud of flesh: and saw the dark tangled curls of his bush
floatingfloating hair of the stream around the limp father of thousands
a languid floating flower.


* * * * * * *

Martin Cunninghamfirstpoked his silkhatted head into the creaking
carriage andentering deftlyseated himself. Mr Power stepped in after
himcurving his height with care.

--Come onSimon.

--After youMr Bloom said.

Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got insaying:

Yesyes.

--Are we all here now? Martin Cunningham asked. Come alongBloom.

Mr Bloom entered and sat in the vacant place. He pulled the door to
after him and slammed it twice till it shut tight. He passed an arm
through the armstrap and looked seriously from the open carriagewindow at
the lowered blinds of the avenue. One dragged aside: an old woman peeping.
Nose whiteflattened against the pane. Thanking her stars she was passed


over. Extraordinary the interest they take in a corpse. Glad to see us go
we give them such trouble coming. Job seems to suit them. Huggermugger in
corners. Slop about in slipperslappers for fear he'd wake. Then getting it
ready. Laying it out. Molly and Mrs Fleming making the bed. Pull it more
to your side. Our windingsheet. Never know who will touch you dead.
Wash and shampoo. I believe they clip the nails and the hair. Keep a bit
in an envelope. Grows all the same after. Unclean job.

All waited. Nothing was said. Stowing in the wreaths probably. I am
sitting on something hard. Ahthat soap: in my hip pocket. Better shift
it out of that. Wait for an opportunity.

All waited. Then wheels were heard from in frontturning: then
nearer: then horses' hoofs. A jolt. Their carriage began to movecreaking
and swaying. Other hoofs and creaking wheels started behind. The blinds
of the avenue passed and number nine with its craped knockerdoor ajar.
At walking pace.

They waited stilltheir knees joggingtill they had turned and were
passing along the tramtracks. Tritonville road. Quicker. The wheels
rattled rolling over the cobbled causeway and the crazy glasses shook
rattling in the doorframes.

--What way is he taking us? Mr Power asked through both windows.

--IrishtownMartin Cunningham said. Ringsend. Brunswick street.

Mr Dedalus noddedlooking out.

--That's a fine old customhe said. I am glad to see it has not died out.

All watched awhile through their windows caps and hats lifted by
passers. Respect. The carriage swerved from the tramtrack to the smoother
road past Watery lane. Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young manclad in
mourninga wide hat.

--There's a friend of yours gone byDedalushe said.

--Who is that?

--Your son and heir.

--Where is he? Mr Dedalus saidstretching over across.

The carriagepassing the open drains and mounds of rippedup
roadway before the tenement houseslurched round the corner and
swerving back to the tramtrackrolled on noisily with chattering wheels.
Mr Dedalus fell backsaying:

--Was that Mulligan cad with him? His FIDUS ACHATES!

--NoMr Bloom said. He was alone.

--Down with his aunt SallyI supposeMr Dedalus saidthe Goulding
factionthe drunken little costdrawer and Crissiepapa's little lump of
dungthe wise child that knows her own father.

Mr Bloom smiled joylessly on Ringsend road. Wallace Bros: the
bottleworks: Dodder bridge.

Richie Goulding and the legal bag. GouldingCollis and Ward he
calls the firm. His jokes are getting a bit damp. Great card he was.
Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a Sunday morningthe
landlady's two hats pinned on his head. Out on the rampage all night.


Beginning to tell on him now: that backache of hisI fear. Wife ironing
his back. Thinks he'll cure it with pills. All breadcrumbs they are.
About six hundred per cent profit.

--He's in with a lowdown crowdMr Dedalus snarled. That Mulligan is a
contaminated bloody doubledyed ruffian by all accounts. His name stinks
all over Dublin. But with the help of God and His blessed mother I'll make
it my business to write a letter one of those days to his mother or his
aunt or whatever she is that will open her eye as wide as a gate. I'll
tickle his catastrophebelieve you me.

He cried above the clatter of the wheels:

--I won't have her bastard of a nephew ruin my son. A counterjumper's
son. Selling tapes in my cousinPeter Paul M'Swiney's. Not likely.

He ceased. Mr Bloom glanced from his angry moustache to Mr Power's
mild face and Martin Cunningham's eyes and beardgravely shaking.
Noisy selfwilled man. Full of his son. He is right. Something to
hand on. If little Rudy had lived. See him grow up. Hear his voice in the
house. Walking beside Molly in an Eton suit. My son. Me in his eyes.
Strange feeling it would be. From me. Just a chance. Must have been that
morning in Raymond terrace she was at the window watching the two dogs
at it by the wall of the cease to do evil. And the sergeant grinning up.
She had that cream gown on with the rip she never stitched. Give us a
touchPoldy. GodI'm dying for it. How life begins.

Got big then. Had to refuse the Greystones concert. My son inside
her. I could have helped him on in life. I could. Make him independent.
Learn German too.

--Are we late? Mr Power asked.

--Ten minutesMartin Cunningham saidlooking at his watch.

Molly. Milly. Same thing watered down. Her tomboy oaths. O jumping
Jupiter! Ye gods and little fishes! Stillshe's a dear girl. Soon
be a woman. Mullingar. Dearest Papli. Young student. Yesyes: a woman
too. Lifelife.

The carriage heeled over and backtheir four trunks swaying.

--Corny might have given us a more commodious yokeMr Power said.

--He mightMr Dedalus saidif he hadn't that squint troubling him. Do
you follow me?

He closed his left eye. Martin Cunningham began to brush away
crustcrumbs from under his thighs.

--What is thishe saidin the name of God? Crumbs?

--Someone seems to have been making a picnic party here latelyMr Power
said.

All raised their thighs and eyed with disfavour the mildewed
buttonless leather of the seats. Mr Dedalustwisting his nosefrowned
downward and said:

--Unless I'm greatly mistaken. What do you thinkMartin?

--It struck me tooMartin Cunningham said.

Mr Bloom set his thigh down. Glad I took that bath. Feel my feet


quite clean. But I wish Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better.

Mr Dedalus sighed resignedly.

--After allhe saidit's the most natural thing in the world.

--Did Tom Kernan turn up? Martin Cunningham askedtwirling the peak
of his beard gently.

--YesMr Bloom answered. He's behind with Ned Lambert and Hynes.

--And Corny Kelleher himself? Mr Power asked.

--At the cemeteryMartin Cunningham said.

--I met M'Coy this morningMr Bloom said. He said he'd try to come.

The carriage halted short.

--What's wrong?

--We're stopped.

--Where are we?

Mr Bloom put his head out of the window.

--The grand canalhe said.

Gasworks. Whooping cough they say it cures. Good job Milly never
got it. Poor children! Doubles them up black and blue in convulsions.
Shame really. Got off lightly with illnesses compared. Only measles.
Flaxseed tea. Scarlatinainfluenza epidemics. Canvassing for death. Don't
miss this chance. Dogs' home over there. Poor old Athos! Be good to Athos
Leopoldis my last wish. Thy will be done. We obey them in the grave. A
dying scrawl. He took it to heartpined away. Quiet brute. Old men's dogs
usually are.

A raindrop spat on his hat. He drew back and saw an instant of
shower spray dots over the grey flags. Apart. Curious. Like through a
colander. I thought it would. My boots were creaking I remember now.

--The weather is changinghe said quietly.

--A pity it did not keep up fineMartin Cunningham said.

--Wanted for the countryMr Power said. There's the sun again coming out.

Mr Dedaluspeering through his glasses towards the veiled sun
hurled a mute curse at the sky.

--It's as uncertain as a child's bottomhe said.

--We're off again.

The carriage turned again its stiff wheels and their trunks swayed
gently. Martin Cunningham twirled more quickly the peak of his beard.

--Tom Kernan was immense last nighthe said. And Paddy Leonard taking
him off to his face.

--Odraw him outMartinMr Power said eagerly. Wait till you hear him
Simonon Ben Dollard's singing of THE CROPPY BOY.


--ImmenseMartin Cunningham said pompously. HIS SINGING OF THAT SIMPLE
BALLADMARTINIS THE MOST TRENCHANT RENDERING I EVER HEARD IN THE WHOLE
COURSE OF MY EXPERIENCE.

--TrenchantMr Power said laughing. He's dead nuts on that. And the
retrospective arrangement.

--Did you read Dan Dawson's speech? Martin Cunningham asked.

--I did not thenMr Dedalus said. Where is it?

--In the paper this morning.

Mr Bloom took the paper from his inside pocket. That book I must
change for her.

--NonoMr Dedalus said quickly. Later on please.

Mr Bloom's glance travelled down the edge of the paperscanning the
deaths: CallanColemanDignamFawcettLowryNaumannPeakewhat
Peake is that? is it the chap was in Crosbie and Alleyne's? noSexton
Urbright. Inked characters fast fading on the frayed breaking paper.
Thanks to the Little Flower. Sadly missed. To the inexpressible grief of
his. Aged 88 after a long and tedious illness. Month's mind: Quinlan.
On whose soul Sweet Jesus have mercy.

IT IS NOW A MONTH SINCE DEAR HENRY FLED
TO HIS HOME UP ABOVE IN THE SKY
WHILE HIS FAMILY WEEPS AND MOURNS HIS LOSS
HOPING SOME DAY TO MEET HIM ON HIGH.


I tore up the envelope? Yes. Where did I put her letter after I read it in
the bath? He patted his waistcoatpocket. There all right. Dear Henry fled.
Before my patience are exhausted.


National school. Meade's yard. The hazard. Only two there now.
Nodding. Full as a tick. Too much bone in their skulls. The other trotting
round with a fare. An hour ago I was passing there. The jarvies raised
their hats.


A pointsman's back straightened itself upright suddenly against a
tramway standard by Mr Bloom's window. Couldn't they invent something
automatic so that the wheel itself much handier? Well but that fellow
would lose his job then? Well but then another fellow would get a job
making the new invention?


Antient concert rooms. Nothing on there. A man in a buff suit with a
crape armlet. Not much grief there. Quarter mourning. People in law
perhaps.


They went past the bleak pulpit of saint Mark'sunder the railway
bridgepast the Queen's theatre: in silence. Hoardings: Eugene Stratton
Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Could I go to see LEAH tonightI wonder. I said I.
Or the LILY OF KILLARNEY? Elster Grimes Opera Company. Big powerful
change. Wet bright bills for next week. FUN ON THE BRISTOL. Martin
Cunningham could work a pass for the Gaiety. Have to stand a drink or
two. As broad as it's long.


He's coming in the afternoon. Her songs.


Plasto's. Sir Philip Crampton's memorial fountain bust. Who was he?



--How do you do? Martin Cunningham saidraising his palm to his brow
in salute.

--He doesn't see usMr Power said. Yeshe does. How do you do?

--Who? Mr Dedalus asked.

--Blazes BoylanMr Power said. There he is airing his quiff.

Just that moment I was thinking.

Mr Dedalus bent across to salute. From the door of the Red Bank the
white disc of a straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed.

Mr Bloom reviewed the nails of his left handthen those of his right
hand. The nailsyes. Is there anything more in him that they she sees?
Fascination. Worst man in Dublin. That keeps him alive. They sometimes
feel what a person is. Instinct. But a type like that. My nails. I am just
looking at them: well pared. And after: thinking alone. Body getting a bit
softy. I would notice that: from remembering. What causes that? I suppose
the skin can't contract quickly enough when the flesh falls off. But the
shape is there. The shape is there still. Shoulders. Hips. Plump. Night of
the dance dressing. Shift stuck between the cheeks behind.

He clasped his hands between his knees andsatisfiedsent his vacant
glance over their faces.

Mr Power asked:

--How is the concert tour getting onBloom?

--Overy wellMr Bloom said. I hear great accounts of it. It's a good
ideayou see ...

--Are you going yourself?

--Well noMr Bloom said. In point of fact I have to go down to the
county Clare on some private business. You see the idea is to tour the
chief towns. What you lose on one you can make up on the other.

--Quite soMartin Cunningham said. Mary Anderson is up there now.

Have you good artists?

--Louis Werner is touring herMr Bloom said. O yeswe'll have all
topnobbers. J. C. Doyle and John MacCormack I hope and. The bestin
fact.

--And MADAMEMr Power said smiling. Last but not least.

Mr Bloom unclasped his hands in a gesture of soft politeness and
clasped them. Smith O'Brien. Someone has laid a bunch of flowers there.
Woman. Must be his deathday. For many happy returns. The carriage
wheeling by Farrell's statue united noiselessly their unresisting knees.

Oot: a dullgarbed old man from the curbstone tendered his wareshis
mouth opening: oot.

--Four bootlaces for a penny.

Wonder why he was struck off the rolls. Had his office in Hume
street. Same house as Molly's namesakeTweedycrown solicitor for
Waterford. Has that silk hat ever since. Relics of old decency. Mourning
too. Terrible comedownpoor wretch! Kicked about like snuff at a wake.


O'Callaghan on his last legs.


And MADAME. Twenty past eleven. Up. Mrs Fleming is in to clean.
Doing her hairhumming. VOGLIO E NON VORREI. No. VORREI E NON. Looking
at the tips of her hairs to see if they are split. MI TREMA UN POCO IL.
Beautiful on that TRE her voice is: weeping tone. A thrush. A throstle.
There is a word throstle that expresses that.


His eyes passed lightly over Mr Power's goodlooking face. Greyish
over the ears. MADAME: smiling. I smiled back. A smile goes a long way.
Only politeness perhaps. Nice fellow. Who knows is that true about the
woman he keeps? Not pleasant for the wife. Yet they saywho was it told
methere is no carnal. You would imagine that would get played out pretty
quick. Yesit was Crofton met him one evening bringing her a pound of
rumpsteak. What is this she was? Barmaid in Jury's. Or the Moirawas it?


They passed under the hugecloaked Liberator's form.


Martin Cunningham nudged Mr Power.


--Of the tribe of Reubenhe said.


A tall blackbearded figurebent on a stickstumping round the corner
of Elvery's Elephant houseshowed them a curved hand open on his spine.


--In all his pristine beautyMr Power said.


Mr Dedalus looked after the stumping figure and said mildly:


--The devil break the hasp of your back!


Mr Powercollapsing in laughtershaded his face from the window as
the carriage passed Gray's statue.


--We have all been thereMartin Cunningham said broadly.


His eyes met Mr Bloom's eyes. He caressed his beardadding:


--Wellnearly all of us.


Mr Bloom began to speak with sudden eagerness to his companions' faces.


--That's an awfully good one that's going the rounds about Reuben J and
the son.


--About the boatman? Mr Power asked.


--Yes. Isn't it awfully good?


--What is that? Mr Dedalus asked. I didn't hear it.


--There was a girl in the caseMr Bloom beganand he determined to send
him to the Isle of Man out of harm's way but when they were both ...


--What? Mr Dedalus asked. That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it?


--YesMr Bloom said. They were both on the way to the boat and he tried
to drown ...


--Drown Barabbas! Mr Dedalus cried. I wish to Christ he did!


Mr Power sent a long laugh down his shaded nostrils.


--NoMr Bloom saidthe son himself ...



Martin Cunningham thwarted his speech rudely:

--Reuben and the son were piking it down the quay next the river on their
way to the Isle of Man boat and the young chiseller suddenly got loose and
over the wall with him into the Liffey.

--For God's sake! Mr Dedalus exclaimed in fright. Is he dead?

--Dead! Martin Cunningham cried. Not he! A boatman got a pole and
fished him out by the slack of the breeches and he was landed up to the
father on the quay more dead than alive. Half the town was there.

--YesMr Bloom said. But the funny part is ...

--And Reuben JMartin Cunningham saidgave the boatman a florin for
saving his son's life.
A stifled sigh came from under Mr Power's hand.


--Ohe didMartin Cunningham affirmed. Like a hero. A silver florin.
--Isn't it awfully good? Mr Bloom said eagerly.


--One and eightpence too muchMr Dedalus said drily.
Mr Power's choked laugh burst quietly in the carriage.


Nelson's pillar.
--Eight plums a penny! Eight for a penny!


--We had better look a little seriousMartin Cunningham said.
Mr Dedalus sighed.


--Ah then indeedhe saidpoor little Paddy wouldn't grudge us a laugh.
Many a good one he told himself.

--The Lord forgive me! Mr Power saidwiping his wet eyes with his
fingers. Poor Paddy! I little thought a week ago when I saw him last and
he was in his usual health that I'd be driving after him like this. He's
gone from us.

--As decent a little man as ever wore a hatMr Dedalus said. He went
very suddenly.

--BreakdownMartin Cunningham said. Heart.

He tapped his chest sadly.

Blazing face: redhot. Too much John Barleycorn. Cure for a red
nose. Drink like the devil till it turns adelite. A lot of money he spent
colouring it.

Mr Power gazed at the passing houses with rueful apprehension.

--He had a sudden deathpoor fellowhe said.
--The best deathMr Bloom said.


Their wide open eyes looked at him.
--No sufferinghe said. A moment and all is over. Like dying in sleep.



No-one spoke.

Dead side of the street this. Dull business by dayland agents
temperance hotelFalconer's railway guidecivil service collegeGill's
catholic clubthe industrious blind. Why? Some reason. Sun or wind. At
night too. Chummies and slaveys. Under the patronage of the late Father
Mathew. Foundation stone for Parnell. Breakdown. Heart.

White horses with white frontlet plumes came round the Rotunda
cornergalloping. A tiny coffin flashed by. In a hurry to bury. A
mourning coach. Unmarried. Black for the married. Piebald for bachelors.
Dun for a nun.

--SadMartin Cunningham said. A child.

A dwarf's facemauve and wrinkled like little Rudy's was. Dwarf's
bodyweak as puttyin a whitelined deal box. Burial friendly society
pays. Penny a week for a sod of turf. Our. Little. Beggar. Baby.
Meant nothing. Mistake of nature. If it's healthy it's from the mother.
If not from the man. Better luck next time.

--Poor little thingMr Dedalus said. It's well out of it.

The carriage climbed more slowly the hill of Rutland square. Rattle
his bones. Over the stones. Only a pauper. Nobody owns.

--In the midst of lifeMartin Cunningham said.

--But the worst of allMr Power saidis the man who takes his own life.

Martin Cunningham drew out his watch brisklycoughed and put it back.

--The greatest disgrace to have in the familyMr Power added.

--Temporary insanityof courseMartin Cunningham said decisively. We
must take a charitable view of it.

--They say a man who does it is a cowardMr Dedalus said.

--It is not for us to judgeMartin Cunningham said.

Mr Bloomabout to speakclosed his lips again. Martin Cunningham's
large eyes. Looking away now. Sympathetic human man he is. Intelligent.
Like Shakespeare's face. Always a good word to say. They have no
mercy on that here or infanticide. Refuse christian burial. They
used to drive a stake of wood through his heart in the grave. As if it
wasn't broken already. Yet sometimes they repent too late. Found in the
riverbed clutching rushes. He looked at me. And that awful drunkard of a
wife of his. Setting up house for her time after time and then pawning the
furniture on him every Saturday almost. Leading him the life of the
damned. Wear the heart out of a stonethat. Monday morning. Start afresh.
Shoulder to the wheel. Lordshe must have looked a sight that night
Dedalus told me he was in there. Drunk about the place and capering with
Martin's umbrella.

AND THEY CALL ME THE JEWEL OF ASIA

OF ASIA

THE GEISHA.

He looked away from me. He knows. Rattle his bones.


That afternoon of the inquest. The redlabelled bottle on the table. The
room in the hotel with hunting pictures. Stuffy it was. Sunlight through
the slats of the Venetian blind. The coroner's sunlit earsbig and hairy.
Boots giving evidence. Thought he was asleep first. Then saw like yellow
streaks on his face. Had slipped down to the foot of the bed. Verdict:
overdose. Death by misadventure. The letter. For my son Leopold.


No more pain. Wake no more. Nobody owns.


The carriage rattled swiftly along Blessington street. Over the stones.


--We are going the paceI thinkMartin Cunningham said.


--God grant he doesn't upset us on the roadMr Power said.


--I hope notMartin Cunningham said. That will be a great race tomorrow
in Germany. The Gordon Bennett.


--Yesby JoveMr Dedalus said. That will be worth seeingfaith.


As they turned into Berkeley street a streetorgan near the Basin sent
over and after them a rollicking rattling song of the halls. Has anybody
here seen Kelly? Kay ee double ell wy. Dead March from SAUL. He's as bad
as old Antonio. He left me on my ownio. Pirouette! The MATER
MISERICORDIAE. Eccles street. My house down there. Big place. Ward for
incurables there. Very encouraging. Our Lady's Hospice for the dying.
Deadhouse handy underneath. Where old Mrs Riordan died. They look
terrible the women. Her feeding cup and rubbing her mouth with the
spoon. Then the screen round her bed for her to die. Nice young student
that was dressed that bite the bee gave me. He's gone over to the lying-in
hospital they told me. From one extreme to the other. The carriage
galloped round a corner: stopped.


--What's wrong now?


A divided drove of branded cattle passed the windowslowing
slouching by on padded hoofswhisking their tails slowly on their clotted
bony croups. Outside them and through them ran raddled sheep bleating
their fear.


--EmigrantsMr Power said.


--Huuuh! the drover's voice criedhis switch sounding on their flanks.


Huuuh! out of that!


Thursdayof course. Tomorrow is killing day. Springers. Cuffe sold
them about twentyseven quid each. For Liverpool probably. Roastbeef for
old England. They buy up all the juicy ones. And then the fifth quarter
lost: all that raw stuffhidehairhorns. Comes to a big thing in a
year. Dead meat trade. Byproducts of the slaughterhouses for tanneries
soapmargarine. Wonder if that dodge works now getting dicky meat off the
train at Clonsilla.


The carriage moved on through the drove.


--I can't make out why the corporation doesn't run a tramline from the
parkgate to the quaysMr Bloom said. All those animals could be taken in
trucks down to the boats.


--Instead of blocking up the thoroughfareMartin Cunningham said. Quite
right. They ought to.


--YesMr Bloom saidand another thing I often thoughtis to have



municipal funeral trams like they have in Milanyou know. Run the line
out to the cemetery gates and have special tramshearse and carriage and
all. Don't you see what I mean?


--Othat be damned for a storyMr Dedalus said. Pullman car and saloon
diningroom.


--A poor lookout for CornyMr Power added.


--Why? Mr Bloom askedturning to Mr Dedalus. Wouldn't it be more
decent than galloping two abreast?


--Wellthere's something in thatMr Dedalus granted.


--AndMartin Cunningham saidwe wouldn't have scenes like that when
the hearse capsized round Dunphy's and upset the coffin on to the road.


--That was terribleMr Power's shocked face saidand the corpse fell
about the road. Terrible!


--First round Dunphy'sMr Dedalus saidnodding. Gordon Bennett cup.


--Praises be to God! Martin Cunningham said piously.


Bom! Upset. A coffin bumped out on to the road. Burst open. Paddy
Dignam shot out and rolling over stiff in the dust in a brown habit too
large for him. Red face: grey now. Mouth fallen open. Asking what's up
now. Quite right to close it. Looks horrid open. Then the insides
decompose quickly. Much better to close up all the orifices. Yesalso.
With wax. The sphincter loose. Seal up all.


--Dunphy'sMr Power announced as the carriage turned right.


Dunphy's corner. Mourning coaches drawn updrowning their grief.
A pause by the wayside. Tiptop position for a pub. Expect we'll pull up
here on the way back to drink his health. Pass round the consolation.
Elixir of life.


But suppose now it did happen. Would he bleed if a nail say cut him in
the knocking about? He would and he wouldn'tI suppose. Depends on
where. The circulation stops. Still some might ooze out of an artery. It
would be better to bury them in red: a dark red.


In silence they drove along Phibsborough road. An empty hearse
trotted bycoming from the cemetery: looks relieved.


Crossguns bridge: the royal canal.


Water rushed roaring through the sluices. A man stood on his
dropping bargebetween clamps of turf. On the towpath by the lock a
slacktethered horse. Aboard of the BUGABU.


Their eyes watched him. On the slow weedy waterway he had floated
on his raft coastward over Ireland drawn by a haulage rope past beds of
reedsover slimemudchoked bottlescarrion dogs. AthloneMullingar
MoyvalleyI could make a walking tour to see Milly by the canal. Or cycle
down. Hire some old crocksafety. Wren had one the other day at the
auction but a lady's. Developing waterways. James M'Cann's hobby to row
me o'er the ferry. Cheaper transit. By easy stages. Houseboats. Camping
out. Also hearses. To heaven by water. Perhaps I will without writing.
Come as a surpriseLeixlipClonsilla. Dropping down lock by lock to
Dublin. With turf from the midland bogs. Salute. He lifted his brown straw
hatsaluting Paddy Dignam.



They drove on past Brian Boroimhe house. Near it now.

--I wonder how is our friend Fogarty getting onMr Power said.

--Better ask Tom KernanMr Dedalus said.

--How is that? Martin Cunningham said. Left him weepingI suppose?

--Though lost to sightMr Dedalus saidto memory dear.

The carriage steered left for Finglas road.

The stonecutter's yard on the right. Last lap. Crowded on the spit of
land silent shapes appearedwhitesorrowfulholding out calm hands
knelt in griefpointing. Fragments of shapeshewn. In white silence:
appealing. The best obtainable. Thos. H. Dennanymonumental builder and
sculptor.

Passed.

On the curbstone before Jimmy Gearythe sexton'san old tramp sat
grumblingemptying the dirt and stones out of his huge dustbrown
yawning boot. After life's journey.

Gloomy gardens then went by: one by one: gloomy houses.

Mr Power pointed.

--That is where Childs was murderedhe said. The last house.

--So it isMr Dedalus said. A gruesome case. Seymour Bushe got him off.
Murdered his brother. Or so they said.

--The crown had no evidenceMr Power said.

--Only circumstantialMartin Cunningham added. That's the maxim of
the law. Better for ninetynine guilty to escape than for one innocent
person to be wrongfully condemned.

They looked. Murderer's ground. It passed darkly. Shuttered
tenantlessunweeded garden. Whole place gone to hell. Wrongfully
condemned. Murder. The murderer's image in the eye of the murdered.
They love reading about it. Man's head found in a garden. Her clothing
consisted of. How she met her death. Recent outrage. The weapon used.
Murderer is still at large. Clues. A shoelace. The body to be exhumed.
Murder will out.

Cramped in this carriage. She mightn't like me to come that way
without letting her know. Must be careful about women. Catch them once
with their pants down. Never forgive you after. Fifteen.

The high railings of Prospect rippled past their gaze. Dark poplars
rare white forms. Forms more frequentwhite shapes thronged amid the
treeswhite forms and fragments streaming by mutelysustaining vain
gestures on the air.

The felly harshed against the curbstone: stopped. Martin
Cunningham put out his arm andwrenching back the handleshoved the
door open with his knee. He stepped out. Mr Power and Mr Dedalus
followed.

Change that soap now. Mr Bloom's hand unbuttoned his hip pocket
swiftly and transferred the paperstuck soap to his inner handkerchief
pocket. He stepped out of the carriagereplacing the newspaper his other


hand still held.


Paltry funeral: coach and three carriages. It's all the same.
Pallbearersgold reinsrequiem massfiring a volley. Pomp of death.
Beyond the hind carriage a hawker stood by his barrow of cakes and fruit.
Simnel cakes those arestuck together: cakes for the dead. Dogbiscuits.
Who ate them? Mourners coming out.


He followed his companions. Mr Kernan and Ned Lambert followed
Hynes walking after them. Corny Kelleher stood by the opened hearse and
took out the two wreaths. He handed one to the boy.


Where is that child's funeral disappeared to?


A team of horses passed from Finglas with toiling plodding tread
dragging through the funereal silence a creaking waggon on which lay a
granite block. The waggoner marching at their head saluted.


Coffin now. Got here before usdead as he is. Horse looking round at it
with his plume skeowways. Dull eye: collar tight on his neckpressing on
a bloodvessel or something. Do they know what they cart out here every
day? Must be twenty or thirty funerals every day. Then Mount Jerome for
the protestants. Funerals all over the world everywhere every minute.
Shovelling them under by the cartload doublequick. Thousands every hour.
Too many in the world.


Mourners came out through the gates: woman and a girl. Leanjawed
harpyhard woman at a bargainher bonnet awry. Girl's face stained with
dirt and tearsholding the woman's armlooking up at her for a sign to
cry. Fish's facebloodless and livid.


The mutes shouldered the coffin and bore it in through the gates. So
much dead weight. Felt heavier myself stepping out of that bath. First the
stiff: then the friends of the stiff. Corny Kelleher and the boy followed
with their wreaths. Who is that beside them? Ahthe brother-in-law.


All walked after.


Martin Cunningham whispered:


--I was in mortal agony with you talking of suicide before Bloom.


--What? Mr Power whispered. How so?


--His father poisoned himselfMartin Cunningham whispered. Had the
Queen's hotel in Ennis. You heard him say he was going to Clare.
Anniversary.


--O God! Mr Power whispered. First I heard of it. Poisoned himself?


He glanced behind him to where a face with dark thinking eyes
followed towards the cardinal's mausoleum. Speaking.


--Was he insured? Mr Bloom asked.


--I believe soMr Kernan answered. But the policy was heavily mortgaged.
Martin is trying to get the youngster into Artane.


--How many children did he leave?


--Five. Ned Lambert says he'll try to get one of the girls into Todd's.


--A sad caseMr Bloom said gently. Five young children.



--A great blow to the poor wifeMr Kernan added.

--Indeed yesMr Bloom agreed.

Has the laugh at him now.

He looked down at the boots he had blacked and polished. She had
outlived him. Lost her husband. More dead for her than for me. One must
outlive the other. Wise men say. There are more women than men in the
world. Condole with her. Your terrible loss. I hope you'll soon follow
him. For Hindu widows only. She would marry another. Him? No. Yet who
knows after. Widowhood not the thing since the old queen died. Drawn on
a guncarriage. Victoria and Albert. Frogmore memorial mourning. But in
the end she put a few violets in her bonnet. Vain in her heart of hearts.
All for a shadow. Consort not even a king. Her son was the substance.
Something new to hope for not like the past she wanted backwaiting. It
never comes. One must go first: aloneunder the ground: and lie no more
in her warm bed.

--How are youSimon? Ned Lambert said softlyclasping hands. Haven't
seen you for a month of Sundays.

--Never better. How are all in Cork's own town?

--I was down there for the Cork park races on Easter MondayNed
Lambert said. Same old six and eightpence. Stopped with Dick Tivy.

--And how is Dickthe solid man?

--Nothing between himself and heavenNed Lambert answered.

--By the holy Paul! Mr Dedalus said in subdued wonder. Dick Tivy bald?

--Martin is going to get up a whip for the youngstersNed Lambert said
pointing ahead. A few bob a skull. Just to keep them going till the
insurance is cleared up.

--YesyesMr Dedalus said dubiously. Is that the eldest boy in front?

--YesNed Lambert saidwith the wife's brother. John Henry Menton is
behind. He put down his name for a quid.

--I'll engage he didMr Dedalus said. I often told poor Paddy he ought
to mind that job. John Henry is not the worst in the world.

--How did he lose it? Ned Lambert asked. Liquorwhat?

--Many a good man's faultMr Dedalus said with a sigh.

They halted about the door of the mortuary chapel. Mr Bloom stood
behind the boy with the wreath looking down at his sleekcombed hair and
at the slender furrowed neck inside his brandnew collar. Poor boy! Was he
there when the father? Both unconscious. Lighten up at the last moment
and recognise for the last time. All he might have done. I owe three
shillings to O'Grady. Would he understand? The mutes bore the coffin into
the chapel. Which end is his head?

After a moment he followed the others inblinking in the screened
light. The coffin lay on its bier before the chancelfour tall yellow
candles at its corners. Always in front of us. Corny Kelleherlaying a
wreath at each fore cornerbeckoned to the boy to kneel. The mourners
knelt here and there in prayingdesks. Mr Bloom stood behind near the font
andwhen all had kneltdropped carefully his unfolded newspaper from his
pocket and knelt his right knee upon it. He fitted his black hat gently on


his left knee andholding its brimbent over piously.

A server bearing a brass bucket with something in it came out through
a door. The whitesmocked priest came after himtidying his stole with one
handbalancing with the other a little book against his toad's belly.
Who'll read the book? Isaid the rook.

They halted by the bier and the priest began to read out of his book
with a fluent croak.

Father Coffey. I knew his name was like a coffin. DOMINE-NAMINE.
Bully about the muzzle he looks. Bosses the show. Muscular christian. Woe
betide anyone that looks crooked at him: priest. Thou art Peter. Burst
sideways like a sheep in clover Dedalus says he will. With a belly on him
like a poisoned pup. Most amusing expressions that man finds. Hhhn: burst
sideways.

--NON INTRES IN JUDICIUM CUM SERVO TUODOMINE.

Makes them feel more important to be prayed over in Latin. Requiem
mass. Crape weepers. Blackedged notepaper. Your name on the altarlist.
Chilly place this. Want to feed wellsitting in there all the morning in
the gloom kicking his heels waiting for the next please. Eyes of a toad
too. What swells him up that way? Molly gets swelled after cabbage. Air of
the place maybe. Looks full up of bad gas. Must be an infernal lot of bad
gas round the place. Butchersfor instance: they get like raw beefsteaks.
Who was telling me? Mervyn Browne. Down in the vaults of saint Werburgh's
lovely old organ hundred and fifty they have to bore a hole in the coffins
sometimes to let out the bad gas and burn it. Out it rushes: blue. One
whiff of that and you're a goner.

My kneecap is hurting me. Ow. That's better.

The priest took a stick with a knob at the end of it out of the boy's
bucket and shook it over the coffin. Then he walked to the other end and
shook it again. Then he came back and put it back in the bucket. As you
were before you rested. It's all written down: he has to do it.

--ET NE NOS INDUCAS IN TENTATIONEM.

The server piped the answers in the treble. I often thought it would be
better to have boy servants. Up to fifteen or so. After thatof
course ...

Holy water that wasI expect. Shaking sleep out of it. He must be fed
up with that jobshaking that thing over all the corpses they trot up.
What harm if he could see what he was shaking it over. Every mortal day a
fresh batch: middleaged menold womenchildrenwomen dead in
childbirthmen with beardsbaldheaded businessmenconsumptive girls
with little sparrows' breasts. All the year round he prayed the same thing
over them all and shook water on top of them: sleep. On Dignam now.

--IN PARADISUM.

Said he was going to paradise or is in paradise. Says that over everybody.
Tiresome kind of a job. But he has to say something.

The priest closed his book and went offfollowed by the server.
Corny Kelleher opened the sidedoors and the gravediggers came inhoisted
the coffin againcarried it out and shoved it on their cart. Corny
Kelleher gave one wreath to the boy and one to the brother-in-law. All
followed them out of the sidedoors into the mild grey air. Mr Bloom came
last folding his paper again into his pocket. He gazed gravely at the
ground till the coffincart wheeled off to the left. The metal wheels


ground the gravel with a sharp grating cry and the pack of blunt boots
followed the trundled barrow along a lane of sepulchres.

The ree the ra the ree the ra the roo. LordI mustn't lilt here.

--The O'Connell circleMr Dedalus said about him.

Mr Power's soft eyes went up to the apex of the lofty cone.

--He's at resthe saidin the middle of his peopleold Dan O'. But his
heart is buried in Rome. How many broken hearts are buried hereSimon!

--Her grave is over thereJackMr Dedalus said. I'll soon be stretched
beside her. Let Him take me whenever He likes.

Breaking downhe began to weep to himself quietlystumbling a little
in his walk. Mr Power took his arm.

--She's better where she ishe said kindly.

--I suppose soMr Dedalus said with a weak gasp. I suppose she is in
heaven if there is a heaven.

Corny Kelleher stepped aside from his rank and allowed the mourners to
plod by.

--Sad occasionsMr Kernan began politely.

Mr Bloom closed his eyes and sadly twice bowed his head.

--The others are putting on their hatsMr Kernan said. I suppose we can
do so too. We are the last. This cemetery is a treacherous place.

They covered their heads.

--The reverend gentleman read the service too quicklydon't you think?
Mr Kernan said with reproof.

Mr Bloom nodded gravely looking in the quick bloodshot eyes. Secret
eyessecretsearching. MasonI think: not sure. Beside him again. We are
the last. In the same boat. Hope he'll say something else.

Mr Kernan added:

--The service of the Irish church used in Mount Jerome is simplermore
impressive I must say.

Mr Bloom gave prudent assent. The language of course was another thing.

Mr Kernan said with solemnity:

--I AM THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE. That touches a man's inmost heart.

--It doesMr Bloom said.

Your heart perhaps but what price the fellow in the six feet by two
with his toes to the daisies? No touching that. Seat of the affections.
Broken heart. A pump after allpumping thousands of gallons of blood
every day. One fine day it gets bunged up: and there you are. Lots of
them lying around here: lungsheartslivers. Old rusty pumps: damn the
thing else. The resurrection and the life. Once you are dead you are dead.
That last day idea. Knocking them all up out of their graves. Come forth
Lazarus! And he came fifth and lost the job. Get up! Last day! Then every
fellow mousing around for his liver and his lights and the rest of his


traps. Find damn all of himself that morning. Pennyweight of powder in
a skull. Twelve grammes one pennyweight. Troy measure.

Corny Kelleher fell into step at their side.

--Everything went off A1he said. What?

He looked on them from his drawling eye. Policeman's shoulders. With
your tooraloom tooraloom.
--As it should beMr Kernan said.


--What? Eh? Corny Kelleher said.
Mr Kernan assured him.

--Who is that chap behind with Tom Kernan? John Henry Menton asked. I
know his face.

Ned Lambert glanced back.

--Bloomhe saidMadame Marion Tweedy that wasisI meanthe
soprano. She's his wife.

--Oto be sureJohn Henry Menton said. I haven't seen her for some time.
he was a finelooking woman. I danced with herwaitfifteen seventeen
golden years agoat Mat Dillon's in Roundtown. And a good armful she
was.

He looked behind through the others.

--What is he? he asked. What does he do? Wasn't he in the stationery line?
I fell foul of him one eveningI rememberat bowls.
Ned Lambert smiled.


--Yeshe washe saidin Wisdom Hely's. A traveller for blottingpaper.


--In God's nameJohn Henry Menton saidwhat did she marry a coon like
that for? She had plenty of game in her then.

--Has stillNed Lambert said. He does some canvassing for ads.
John Henry Menton's large eyes stared ahead.

The barrow turned into a side lane. A portly manambushed among
the grassesraised his hat in homage. The gravediggers touched their
caps.

--John O'ConnellMr Power said pleased. He never forgets a friend.
Mr O'Connell shook all their hands in silence. Mr Dedalus said:

--I am come to pay you another visit.

--My dear Simonthe caretaker answered in a low voice. I don't want your
custom at all.

Saluting Ned Lambert and John Henry Menton he walked on at Martin
Cunningham's side puzzling two long keys at his back.

--Did you hear that onehe asked themabout Mulcahy from the Coombe?
--I did notMartin Cunningham said.


They bent their silk hats in concert and Hynes inclined his ear. The
caretaker hung his thumbs in the loops of his gold watchchain and spoke in
a discreet tone to their vacant smiles.

--They tell the storyhe saidthat two drunks came out here one foggy
evening to look for the grave of a friend of theirs. They asked for
Mulcahy from the Coombe and were told where he was buried. After traipsing
about in the fog they found the grave sure enough. One of the drunks spelt
out the name: Terence Mulcahy. The other drunk was blinking up at a statue
of Our Saviour the widow had got put up.

The caretaker blinked up at one of the sepulchres they passed. He
resumed:

--Andafter blinking up at the sacred figureNOT A BLOODY BIT LIKE THE
MANsays he. THAT'S NOT MULCAHYsays heWHOEVER DONE IT.

Rewarded by smiles he fell back and spoke with Corny Kelleheraccepting
the dockets given himturning them over and scanning them as he walked.

--That's all done with a purposeMartin Cunningham explained to Hynes.

--I knowHynes said. I know that.

--To cheer a fellow upMartin Cunningham said. It's pure goodheartedness:
damn the thing else.

Mr Bloom admired the caretaker's prosperous bulk. All want to be on
good terms with him. Decent fellowJohn O'Connellreal good sort. Keys:
like Keyes's ad: no fear of anyone getting out. No passout checks. HABEAS
CORPUS. I must see about that ad after the funeral. Did I write
Ballsbridge on the envelope I took to cover when she disturbed me writing
to Martha? Hope it's not chucked in the dead letter office. Be the better
of a shave. Grey sprouting beard. That's the first sign when the hairs
come out grey. And temper getting cross. Silver threads among the grey.
Fancy being his wife. Wonder he had the gumption to propose to any girl.
Come out and live in the graveyard. Dangle that before her. It might
thrill her first. Courting death ... Shades of night hovering here with
all the dead stretched about. The shadows of the tombs when churchyards
yawn and Daniel O'Connell must be a descendant I suppose who is this used
to say he was a queer breedy man great catholic all the same like a big
giant in the dark. Will o' the wisp. Gas of graves. Want to keep her mind
off it to conceive at all. Women especially are so touchy. Tell her a
ghost story in bed to make her sleep. Have you ever seen a ghost? WellI
have. It was a pitchdark night. The clock was on the stroke of twelve.
Still they'd kiss all right if properly keyed up. Whores in Turkish
graveyards. Learn anything if taken young. You might pick up a young
widow here. Men like that. Love among the tombstones. Romeo. Spice of
pleasure. In the midst of death we are in life. Both ends meet.
Tantalising for the poor dead. Smell of grilled beefsteaks to the
starving. Gnawing their vitals. Desire to grig people. Molly wanting to
do it at the window. Eight children he has anyway.

He has seen a fair share go under in his timelying around him field
after field. Holy fields. More room if they buried them standing. Sitting
or kneeling you couldn't. Standing? His head might come up some day above
ground in a landslip with his hand pointing. All honeycombed the ground
must be: oblong cells. And very neat he keeps it too: trim grass and
edgings. His garden Major Gamble calls Mount Jerome. Wellso it is.
Ought to be flowers of sleep. Chinese cemeteries with giant poppies
growing produce the best opium Mastiansky told me. The Botanic Gardens
are just over there. It's the blood sinking in the earth gives new life.
Same idea those jews they said killed the christian boy. Every man


his price. Well preserved fat corpsegentlemanepicureinvaluable
for fruit garden. A bargain. By carcass of William Wilkinsonauditor
and accountantlately deceasedthree pounds thirteen and six.
With thanks.


I daresay the soil would be quite fat with corpsemanurebonesflesh
nails. Charnelhouses. Dreadful. Turning green and pink decomposing. Rot
quick in damp earth. The lean old ones tougher. Then a kind of a tallowy
kind of a cheesy. Then begin to get blackblack treacle oozing out of
them. Then dried up. Deathmoths. Of course the cells or whatever they are
go on living. Changing about. Live for ever practically. Nothing to feed
on feed on themselves.


But they must breed a devil of a lot of maggots. Soil must be simply
swirling with them. Your head it simply swurls. Those pretty little
seaside gurls. He looks cheerful enough over it. Gives him a sense of
power seeing all the others go under first. Wonder how he looks at life.
Cracking his jokes too: warms the cockles of his heart. The one about the
bulletin. Spurgeon went to heaven 4 a.m. this morning. 11 p.m.
(closing time). Not arrived yet. Peter. The dead themselves the men
anyhow would like to hear an odd joke or the women to know what's in
fashion. A juicy pear or ladies' punchhotstrong and sweet. Keep out
the damp. You must laugh sometimes so better do it that way. Gravediggers
in HAMLET. Shows the profound knowledge of the human heart. Daren't joke
about the dead for two years at least. DE MORTUIS NIL NISI PRIUS. Go out
of mourning first. Hard to imagine his funeral. Seems a sort of a joke.
Read your own obituary notice they say you live longer. Gives you second
wind. New lease of life.


--How many have-you for tomorrow? the caretaker asked.


--TwoCorny Kelleher said. Half ten and eleven.


The caretaker put the papers in his pocket. The barrow had ceased to
trundle. The mourners split and moved to each side of the holestepping
with care round the graves. The gravediggers bore the coffin and set its
nose on the brinklooping the bands round it.


Burying him. We come to bury Caesar. His ides of March or June.
He doesn't know who is here nor care.
Now who is that lankylooking galoot over there in the macintosh?
Now who is he I'd like to know? Now I'd give a trifle to know who he is.
Always someone turns up you never dreamt of. A fellow could live on his
lonesome all his life. Yeshe could. Still he'd have to get someone to
sod him after he died though he could dig his own grave. We all do. Only
man buries. Noants too. First thing strikes anybody. Bury the dead. Say
Robinson Crusoe was true to life. Well then Friday buried him. Every
Friday buries a Thursday if you come to look at it.


OPOOR ROBINSON CRUSOE!

HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY DO SO?

Poor Dignam! His last lie on the earth in his box. When you think of
them all it does seem a waste of wood. All gnawed through. They could
invent a handsome bier with a kind of panel slidinglet it down that way.
Ay but they might object to be buried out of another fellow's. They're so
particular. Lay me in my native earth. Bit of clay from the holy land.
Only a mother and deadborn child ever buried in the one coffin. I see what
it means. I see. To protect him as long as possible even in the earth. The
Irishman's house is his coffin. Embalming in catacombsmummies the same
idea.


Mr Bloom stood far backhis hat in his handcounting the bared
heads. Twelve. I'm thirteen. No. The chap in the macintosh is thirteen.
Death's number. Where the deuce did he pop out of? He wasn't in the
chapelthat I'll swear. Silly superstition that about thirteen.

Nice soft tweed Ned Lambert has in that suit. Tinge of purple. I had
one like that when we lived in Lombard street west. Dressy fellow he was
once. Used to change three suits in the day. Must get that grey suit of
mine turned by Mesias. Hello. It's dyed. His wife I forgot he's not
married or his landlady ought to have picked out those threads for him.

The coffin dived out of sighteased down by the men straddled on the
gravetrestles. They struggled up and out: and all uncovered. Twenty.

Pause.

If we were all suddenly somebody else.

Far away a donkey brayed. Rain. No such ass. Never see a dead one
they say. Shame of death. They hide. Also poor papa went away.

Gentle sweet air blew round the bared heads in a whisper. Whisper.
The boy by the gravehead held his wreath with both hands staring quietly
in the black open space. Mr Bloom moved behind the portly kindly
caretaker. Wellcut frockcoat. Weighing them up perhaps to see which will
go next. Wellit is a long rest. Feel no more. It's the moment you feel.
Must be damned unpleasant. Can't believe it at first. Mistake must be:
someone else. Try the house opposite. WaitI wanted to. I haven't yet.
Then darkened deathchamber. Light they want. Whispering around you. Would
you like to see a priest? Then rambling and wandering. Delirium all you
hid all your life. The death struggle. His sleep is not natural. Press his
lower eyelid. Watching is his nose pointed is his jaw sinking are the
soles of his feet yellow. Pull the pillow away and finish it off on the
floor since he's doomed. Devil in that picture of sinner's death showing
him a woman. Dying to embrace her in his shirt. Last act of LUCIA.
SHALL I NEVERMORE BEHOLD THEE? Bam! He expires. Gone at last. People
talk about you a bit: forget you. Don't forget to pray for him.
Remember him in your prayers. Even Parnell. Ivy day dying out. Then
they follow: dropping into a holeone after the other.

We are praying now for the repose of his soul. Hoping you're well
and not in hell. Nice change of air. Out of the fryingpan of life into the
fire of purgatory.

Does he ever think of the hole waiting for himself? They say you do
when you shiver in the sun. Someone walking over it. Callboy's warning.
Near you. Mine over there towards Finglasthe plot I bought. Mamma
poor mammaand little Rudy.

The gravediggers took up their spades and flung heavy clods of clay
in on the coffin. Mr Bloom turned away his face. And if he was alive all
the time? Whew! By jingothat would be awful! Nono: he is deadof
course. Of course he is dead. Monday he died. They ought to have
some law to pierce the heart and make sure or an electric clock or
a telephone in the coffin and some kind of a canvas airhole. Flag of
distress. Three days. Rather long to keep them in summer. Just as well
to get shut of them as soon as you are sure there's no.

The clay fell softer. Begin to be forgotten. Out of sightout of mind.

The caretaker moved away a few paces and put on his hat. Had
enough of it. The mourners took heart of graceone by onecovering
themselves without show. Mr Bloom put on his hat and saw the portly
figure make its way deftly through the maze of graves. Quietlysure of


his groundhe traversed the dismal fields.


Hynes jotting down something in his notebook. Ahthe names. But he
knows them all. No: coming to me.


--I am just taking the namesHynes said below his breath. What is your
christian name? I'm not sure.


--LMr Bloom said. Leopold. And you might put down M'Coy's name too.
He asked me to.


--CharleyHynes said writing. I know. He was on the FREEMAN once.


So he was before he got the job in the morgue under Louis Byrne.
Good idea a postmortem for doctors. Find out what they imagine they
know. He died of a Tuesday. Got the run. Levanted with the cash of a few
ads. Charleyyou're my darling. That was why he asked me to. O well
does no harm. I saw to thatM'Coy. Thanksold chap: much obliged.
Leave him under an obligation: costs nothing.


--And tell usHynes saiddo you know that fellow in thefellow was
over there in the ...


He looked around.


--Macintosh. YesI saw himMr Bloom said. Where is he now?


--M'IntoshHynes said scribbling. I don't know who he is. Is that
his name?


He moved awaylooking about him.


--NoMr Bloom beganturning and stopping. I sayHynes!


Didn't hear. What? Where has he disappeared to? Not a sign. Well of
all the. Has anybody here seen? Kay ee double ell. Become invisible. Good
Lordwhat became of him?


A seventh gravedigger came beside Mr Bloom to take up an idle spade.


--Oexcuse me!


He stepped aside nimbly.


Claybrowndampbegan to be seen in the hole. It rose. Nearly over.
A mound of damp clods rose moreroseand the gravediggers rested their
spades. All uncovered again for a few instants. The boy propped his wreath
against a corner: the brother-in-law his on a lump. The gravediggers put
on their caps and carried their earthy spades towards the barrow. Then
knocked the blades lightly on the turf: clean. One bent to pluck from the
haft a long tuft of grass. Oneleaving his mateswalked slowly on with
shouldered weaponits blade blueglancing. Silently at the gravehead
another coiled the coffinband. His navelcord. The brother-in-lawturning
awayplaced something in his free hand. Thanks in silence. Sorrysir:
trouble. Headshake. I know that. For yourselves just.


The mourners moved away slowly without aimby devious paths
staying at whiles to read a name on a tomb.


--Let us go round by the chief's graveHynes said. We have time.


--Let usMr Power said.


They turned to the rightfollowing their slow thoughts. With awe Mr



Power's blank voice spoke:

--Some say he is not in that grave at all. That the coffin was filled
with stones. That one day he will come again.

Hynes shook his head.

--Parnell will never come againhe said. He's thereall that was mortal
of him. Peace to his ashes.

Mr Bloom walked unheeded along his grove by saddened angels
crossesbroken pillarsfamily vaultsstone hopes praying with upcast
eyesold Ireland's hearts and hands. More sensible to spend the money on
some charity for the living. Pray for the repose of the soul of. Does
anybody really? Plant him and have done with him. Like down a coalshoot.
Then lump them together to save time. All souls' day. Twentyseventh I'll
be at his grave. Ten shillings for the gardener. He keeps it free of
weeds. Old man himself. Bent down double with his shears clipping. Near
death's door. Who passed away. Who departed this life. As if they did it
of their own accord. Got the shoveall of them. Who kicked the bucket.
More interesting if they told you what they were. So and Sowheelwright.
I travelled for cork lino. I paid five shillings in the pound. Or a
woman's with her saucepan. I cooked good Irish stew. Eulogy in a country
churchyard it ought to be that poem of whose is it Wordsworth or Thomas
Campbell. Entered into rest the protestants put it. Old Dr Murren's.
The great physician called him home. Well it's God's acre for them.
Nice country residence. Newly plastered and painted. Ideal spot to
have a quiet smoke and read the CHURCH TIMES. Marriage ads they never
try to beautify. Rusty wreaths hung on knobsgarlands of bronzefoil.
Better value that for the money. Stillthe flowers are more poetical.
The other gets rather tiresomenever withering. Expresses nothing.
Immortelles.

A bird sat tamely perched on a poplar branch. Like stuffed. Like the
wedding present alderman Hooper gave us. Hoo! Not a budge out of him.
Knows there are no catapults to let fly at him. Dead animal even sadder.
Silly-Milly burying the little dead bird in the kitchen matchboxa
daisychain and bits of broken chainies on the grave.

The Sacred Heart that is: showing it. Heart on his sleeve. Ought to be
sideways and red it should be painted like a real heart. Ireland was
dedicated to it or whatever that. Seems anything but pleased. Why this
infliction? Would birds come then and peck like the boy with the basket of
fruit but he said no because they ought to have been afraid of the boy.
Apollo that was.

How many! All these here once walked round Dublin. Faithful departed.
As you are now so once were we.

Besides how could you remember everybody? Eyeswalkvoice. Well
the voiceyes: gramophone. Have a gramophone in every grave or keep it
in the house. After dinner on a Sunday. Put on poor old greatgrandfather.
Kraahraark! Hellohellohello amawfullyglad kraark awfullygladaseeagain
hellohello amawf krpthsth. Remind you of the voice like the photograph
reminds you of the face. Otherwise you couldn't remember the face after
fifteen yearssay. For instance who? For instance some fellow that died
when I was in Wisdom Hely's.

Rtststr! A rattle of pebbles. Wait. Stop!

He looked down intently into a stone crypt. Some animal. Wait.
There he goes.

An obese grey rat toddled along the side of the cryptmoving the


pebbles. An old stager: greatgrandfather: he knows the ropes. The grey
alive crushed itself in under the plinthwriggled itself in under it.
Good hidingplace for treasure.

Who lives there? Are laid the remains of Robert Emery. Robert
Emmet was buried here by torchlightwasn't he? Making his rounds.

Tail gone now.

One of those chaps would make short work of a fellow. Pick the
bones clean no matter who it was. Ordinary meat for them. A corpse is
meat gone bad. Well and what's cheese? Corpse of milk. I read in that
VOYAGES IN CHINA that the Chinese say a white man smells like a corpse.
Cremation better. Priests dead against it. Devilling for the other firm.
Wholesale burners and Dutch oven dealers. Time of the plague. Quicklime
feverpits to eat them. Lethal chamber. Ashes to ashes. Or bury at sea.
Where is that Parsee tower of silence? Eaten by birds. Earthfirewater.
Drowning they say is the pleasantest. See your whole life in a flash. But
being brought back to life no. Can't bury in the air however. Out of a
flying machine. Wonder does the news go about whenever a fresh one is let
down. Underground communication. We learned that from them. Wouldn't be
surprised. Regular square feed for them. Flies come before he's well dead.
Got wind of Dignam. They wouldn't care about the smell of it. Saltwhite
crumbling mush of corpse: smelltaste like raw white turnips.

The gates glimmered in front: still open. Back to the world again.
Enough of this place. Brings you a bit nearer every time. Last time I was
here was Mrs Sinico's funeral. Poor papa too. The love that kills. And
even scraping up the earth at night with a lantern like that case I read
of to get at fresh buried females or even putrefied with running
gravesores. Give you the creeps after a bit. I will appear to you after
death. You will see my ghost after death. My ghost will haunt you after
death. There is another world after death named hell. I do not like that
other world she wrote. No more do I. Plenty to see and hear and feel yet.
Feel live warm beings near you. Let them sleep in their maggoty beds. They
are not going to get me this innings. Warm beds: warm fullblooded life.

Martin Cunningham emerged from a sidepathtalking gravely.

SolicitorI think. I know his face. MentonJohn Henrysolicitor
commissioner for oaths and affidavits. Dignam used to be in his office.
Mat Dillon's long ago. Jolly Mat. Convivial evenings. Cold fowlcigars
the Tantalus glasses. Heart of gold really. YesMenton. Got his rag out
that evening on the bowlinggreen because I sailed inside him. Pure fluke
of mine: the bias. Why he took such a rooted dislike to me. Hate at first
sight. Molly and Floey Dillon linked under the lilactreelaughing.
Fellow always like thatmortified if women are by.

Got a dinge in the side of his hat. Carriage probably.

--Excuse mesirMr Bloom said beside them.

They stopped.

--Your hat is a little crushedMr Bloom said pointing.

John Henry Menton stared at him for an instant without moving.

--ThereMartin Cunningham helpedpointing also. John Henry Menton took
off his hatbulged out the dinge and smoothed the nap with care on his
coatsleeve. He clapped the hat on his head again.

--It's all right nowMartin Cunningham said.


John Henry Menton jerked his head down in acknowledgment.

--Thank youhe said shortly.

They walked on towards the gates. Mr Bloomchapfallendrew
behind a few paces so as not to overhear. Martin laying down the law.
Martin could wind a sappyhead like that round his little fingerwithout
his seeing it.


Oyster eyes. Never mind. Be sorry after perhaps when it dawns on him.
Get the pull over him that way.


Thank you. How grand we are this morning!


* * * * * * *

IN THE HEART OF THE HIBERNIAN METROPOLIS

Before Nelson's pillar trams slowedshuntedchanged trolleystarted
for BlackrockKingstown and DalkeyClonskeaRathgar and Terenure
Palmerston Park and upper RathminesSandymount GreenRathmines
Ringsend and Sandymount TowerHarold's Cross. The hoarse Dublin
United Tramway Company's timekeeper bawled them off:

--Rathgar and Terenure!

--Come onSandymount Green!

Right and left parallel clanging ringing a doubledecker and a
singledeck moved from their railheadsswerved to the down lineglided
parallel.

--StartPalmerston Park!

THE WEARER OF THE CROWN

Under the porch of the general post office shoeblacks called and
polished. Parked in North Prince's street His Majesty's vermilion
mailcarsbearing on their sides the royal initialsE. R.received
loudly flung sacks of letterspostcardslettercardsparcelsinsured
and paidfor localprovincialBritish and overseas delivery.

GENTLEMEN OF THE PRESS

Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince's
stores and bumped them up on the brewery float. On the brewery float
bumped dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of
Prince's stores.

--There it isRed Murray said. Alexander Keyes.

--Just cut it outwill you? Mr Bloom saidand I'll take it round to the
TELEGRAPH office.

The door of Ruttledge's office creaked again. Davy Stephensminute
in a large capecoata small felt hat crowning his ringletspassed out
with a roll of papers under his capea king's courier.


Red Murray's long shears sliced out the advertisement from the
newspaper in four clean strokes. Scissors and paste.

--I'll go through the printingworksMr Bloom saidtaking the cut square.

--Of courseif he wants a parRed Murray said earnestlya pen behind
his earwe can do him one.

--RightMr Bloom said with a nod. I'll rub that in.

We.

WILLIAM BRAYDEN

ESQUIREOF OAKLANDSSANDYMOUNT

Red Murray touched Mr Bloom's arm with the shears and whispered:


--Brayden.


Mr Bloom turned and saw the liveried porter raise his lettered cap as a
stately figure entered between the newsboards of the WEEKLY FREEMAN AND
NATIONAL PRESS and the FREEMAN'S JOURNAL AND NATIONAL PRESS. Dullthudding
Guinness's barrels. It passed statelily up the staircasesteered by an
umbrellaa solemn beardframed face. The broadcloth back ascended each
step: back. All his brains are in the nape of his neckSimon Dedalus
says. Welts of flesh behind on him. Fat folds of neckfatneckfat
neck.


--Don't you think his face is like Our Saviour? Red Murray whispered.


The door of Ruttledge's office whispered: ee: cree. They always build
one door opposite another for the wind to. Way in. Way out.


Our Saviour: beardframed oval face: talking in the dusk. Mary
Martha. Steered by an umbrella sword to the footlights: Mario the tenor.


--Or like MarioMr Bloom said.


--YesRed Murray agreed. But Mario was said to be the picture of Our
Saviour.


Jesusmario with rougy cheeksdoublet and spindle legs. Hand on his
heart. In MARTHA.


CO-OME THOU LOST ONE
CO-OME THOU DEAR ONE!


THE CROZIER AND THE PEN

--His grace phoned down twice this morningRed Murray said gravely.

They watched the kneeslegsboots vanish. Neck.

A telegram boy stepped in nimblythrew an envelope on the counter
and stepped off posthaste with a word:

--FREEMAN!


Mr Bloom said slowly:

--Wellhe is one of our saviours also.

A meek smile accompanied him as he lifted the counterflapas he
passed in through a sidedoor and along the warm dark stairs and passage
along the now reverberating boards. But will he save the circulation?
Thumping. Thumping.

He pushed in the glass swingdoor and enteredstepping over strewn
packing paper. Through a lane of clanking drums he made his way towards
Nannetti's reading closet.

WITH UNFEIGNED REGRET IT IS WE ANNOUNCE THE DISSOLUTION
OF A MOST RESPECTED DUBLIN BURGESS


Hynes here too: account of the funeral probably. Thumping. Thump.
This morning the remains of the late Mr Patrick Dignam. Machines.
Smash a man to atoms if they got him caught. Rule the world today. His
machineries are pegging away too. Like thesegot out of hand: fermenting.
Working awaytearing away. And that old grey rat tearing to get in.


HOW A GREAT DAILY ORGAN IS TURNED OUT

Mr Bloom halted behind the foreman's spare bodyadmiring a glossy crown.


Strange he never saw his real country. Ireland my country. Member
for College green. He boomed that workaday worker tack for all it was
worth. It's the ads and side features sell a weeklynot the stale news in
the official gazette. Queen Anne is dead. Published by authority in the
year one thousand and. Demesne situate in the townland of Rosenallis
barony of Tinnahinch. To all whom it may concern schedule pursuant to
statute showing return of number of mules and jennets exported from
Ballina. Nature notes. Cartoons. Phil Blake's weekly Pat and Bull story.
Uncle Toby's page for tiny tots. Country bumpkin's queries. Dear Mr
Editorwhat is a good cure for flatulence? I'd like that part. Learn a
lot teaching others. The personal note. M. A. P. Mainly all pictures.
Shapely bathers on golden strand. World's biggest balloon. Double marriage
of sisters celebrated. Two bridegrooms laughing heartily at each other.
Cuprani tooprinter. More Irish than the Irish.


The machines clanked in threefour time. Thumpthumpthump.
Now if he got paralysed there and no-one knew how to stop them they'd
clank on and on the sameprint it over and over and up and back.
Monkeydoodle the whole thing. Want a cool head.


--Wellget it into the evening editioncouncillorHynes said.


Soon be calling him my lord mayor. Long John is backing himthey say.


The foremanwithout answeringscribbled press on a corner of the
sheet and made a sign to a typesetter. He handed the sheet silently over
the dirty glass screen.


--Right: thanksHynes said moving off.


Mr Bloom stood in his way.


--If you want to draw the cashier is just going to lunchhe said
pointing backward with his thumb.



--Did you? Hynes asked.

--MmMr Bloom said. Look sharp and you'll catch him.

--Thanksold manHynes said. I'll tap him too.

He hurried on eagerly towards the FREEMAN'S JOURNAL.

Three bob I lent him in Meagher's. Three weeks. Third hint.

WE SEE THE CANVASSER AT WORK

Mr Bloom laid his cutting on Mr Nannetti's desk.

--Excuse mecouncillorhe said. This adyou see. Keyesyou remember?

Mr Nannetti considered the cutting awhile and nodded.

--He wants it in for JulyMr Bloom said.

The foreman moved his pencil towards it.

--But waitMr Bloom said. He wants it changed. Keyesyou see. He wants
two keys at the top.

Hell of a racket they make. He doesn't hear it. Nannan. Iron nerves.
Maybe he understands what I.

The foreman turned round to hear patiently andlifting an elbow
began to scratch slowly in the armpit of his alpaca jacket.

--Like thatMr Bloom saidcrossing his forefingers at the top.

Let him take that in first.

Mr Bloomglancing sideways up from the cross he had madesaw the
foreman's sallow facethink he has a touch of jaundiceand beyond the
obedient reels feeding in huge webs of paper. Clank it. Clank it. Miles of
it unreeled. What becomes of it after? Owrap up meatparcels: various
usesthousand and one things.

Slipping his words deftly into the pauses of the clanking he drew
swiftly on the scarred woodwork.

HOUSE OF KEY(E)S

--Like thatsee. Two crossed keys here. A circle. Then here the name.
Alexander Keyesteawine and spirit merchant. So on.

Better not teach him his own business.

--You know yourselfcouncillorjust what he wants. Then round the top
in leaded: the house of keys. You see? Do you think that's a good idea?

The foreman moved his scratching hand to his lower ribs and scratched
there quietly.

--The ideaMr Bloom saidis the house of keys. You knowcouncillor
the Manx parliament. Innuendo of home rule. Touristsyou knowfrom the
isle of Man. Catches the eyeyou see. Can you do that?


I could ask him perhaps about how to pronounce that VOGLIO. But
then if he didn't know only make it awkward for him. Better not.

--We can do thatthe foreman said. Have you the design?

--I can get itMr Bloom said. It was in a Kilkenny paper. He has a house
there too. I'll just run out and ask him. Wellyou can do that and just a
little par calling attention. You know the usual. Highclass licensed
premises. Longfelt want. So on.

The foreman thought for an instant.

--We can do thathe said. Let him give us a three months' renewal.

A typesetter brought him a limp galleypage. He began to check it
silently. Mr Bloom stood byhearing the loud throbs of crankswatching
the silent typesetters at their cases.

ORTHOGRAPHICAL

Want to be sure of his spelling. Proof fever. Martin Cunningham
forgot to give us his spellingbee conundrum this morning. It is amusing to
view the unpar one ar alleled embarra two ars is it? double ess ment of a
harassed pedlar while gauging au the symmetry with a y of a peeled pear
under a cemetery wall. Sillyisn't it? Cemetery put in of course on
account of the symmetry.

I should have said when he clapped on his topper. Thank you. I ought
to have said something about an old hat or something. No. I could have
said. Looks as good as new now. See his phiz then.

Sllt. The nethermost deck of the first machine jogged forward its
flyboard with sllt the first batch of quirefolded papers. Sllt. Almost
human the way it sllt to call attention. Doing its level best to speak.
That door too sllt creakingasking to be shut. Everything speaks in its
own way. Sllt.

NOTED CHURCHMAN AN OCCASIONAL CONTRIBUTOR

The foreman handed back the galleypage suddenlysaying:

--Wait. Where's the archbishop's letter? It's to be repeated in the
TELEGRAPH. Where's what's his name?

He looked about him round his loud unanswering machines.

--Monkssir? a voice asked from the castingbox.

--Ay. Where's Monks?

--Monks!

Mr Bloom took up his cutting. Time to get out.

--Then I'll get the designMr Nannettihe saidand you'll give it a
good place I know.

--Monks!


--Yessir.

Three months' renewal. Want to get some wind off my chest first. Try
it anyhow. Rub in August: good idea: horseshow month. Ballsbridge.
Tourists over for the show.

A DAYFATHER

He walked on through the caseroom passing an old manbowed
spectacledaproned. Old Monksthe dayfather. Queer lot of stuff he must
have put through his hands in his time: obituary noticespubs' ads
speechesdivorce suitsfound drowned. Nearing the end of his tether now.
Sober serious man with a bit in the savingsbank I'd say. Wife a good cook
and washer. Daughter working the machine in the parlour. Plain Janeno
damn nonsense.


AND IT WAS THE FEAST OF THE PASSOVER

He stayed in his walk to watch a typesetter neatly distributing type.
Reads it backwards first. Quickly he does it. Must require some practice
that. mangiD kcirtaP. Poor papa with his hagadah bookreading
backwards with his finger to me. Pessach. Next year in Jerusalem. DearO
dear! All that long business about that brought us out of the land of
Egypt and into the house of bondage ALLELUIA. SHEMA ISRAEL ADONAI ELOHENU.
Nothat's the other. Then the twelve brothersJacob's sons. And then the
lamb and the cat and the dog and the stick and the water and the butcher.
And then the angel of death kills the butcher and he kills the ox and the
dog kills the cat. Sounds a bit silly till you come to look into it well.
Justice it means but it's everybody eating everyone else. That's what life
is after all. How quickly he does that job. Practice makes perfect. Seems
to see with his fingers.

Mr Bloom passed on out of the clanking noises through the gallery on
to the landing. Now am I going to tram it out all the way and then catch
him out perhaps. Better phone him up first. Number? Yes. Same as Citron's
house. Twentyeight. Twentyeight double four.

ONLY ONCE MORE THAT SOAP

He went down the house staircase. Who the deuce scrawled all over
those walls with matches? Looks as if they did it for a bet. Heavy greasy
smell there always is in those works. Lukewarm glue in Thom's next door
when I was there.

He took out his handkerchief to dab his nose. Citronlemon? Ahthe
soap I put there. Lose it out of that pocket. Putting back his
handkerchief he took out the soap and stowed it awaybuttonedinto the
hip pocket of his trousers.

What perfume does your wife use? I could go home still: tram:
something I forgot. Just to see: before: dressing. No. Here. No.

A sudden screech of laughter came from the EVENING TELEGRAPH office. Know
who that is. What's up? Pop in a minute to phone. Ned Lambert it is.

He entered softly.


ERINGREEN GEM OF THE SILVER SEA

--The ghost walksprofessor MacHugh murmured softlybiscuitfully to
the dusty windowpane.

Mr Dedalusstaring from the empty fireplace at Ned Lambert's
quizzing faceasked of it sourly:

--Agonising Christwouldn't it give you a heartburn on your arse?

Ned Lambertseated on the tableread on:

--OR AGAINNOTE THE MEANDERINGS OF SOME PURLING RILL AS IT BABBLES ON
ITS WAYTHO' QUARRELLING WITH THE STONY OBSTACLESTO THE TUMBLING WATERS
OF NEPTUNE'S BLUE DOMAIN'MID MOSSY BANKSFANNED BY GENTLEST ZEPHYRS
PLAYED ON BY THE GLORIOUS SUNLIGHT OR 'NEATH THE SHADOWS CAST O'ER ITS
PENSIVE BOSOM BY THE OVERARCHING LEAFAGE OF THE GIANTS OF THE FOREST. What
about thatSimon? he asked over the fringe of his newspaper. How's that
for high?

--Changing his drinkMr Dedalus said.

Ned Lambertlaughingstruck the newspaper on his kneesrepeating:

--THE PENSIVE BOSOM AND THE OVERARSING LEAFAGE. O boys! O boys!

--And Xenophon looked upon MarathonMr Dedalus saidlooking again
on the fireplace and to the windowand Marathon looked on the sea.

--That will doprofessor MacHugh cried from the window. I don't want to
hear any more of the stuff.

He ate off the crescent of water biscuit he had been nibbling and
hungeredmade ready to nibble the biscuit in his other hand.

High falutin stuff. Bladderbags. Ned Lambert is taking a day off I
see. Rather upsets a man's daya funeral does. He has influence they say.
Old Chattertonthe vicechancelloris his granduncle or his
greatgranduncle. Close on ninety they say. Subleader for his death written
this long time perhaps. Living to spite them. Might go first himself.
Johnnymake room for your uncle. The right honourable Hedges Eyre
Chatterton. Daresay he writes him an odd shaky cheque or two on gale days.
Windfall when he kicks out. Alleluia.

--Just another spasmNed Lambert said.

--What is it? Mr Bloom asked.

--A recently discovered fragment of Ciceroprofessor MacHugh answered
with pomp of tone. OUR LOVELY LAND.

SHORT BUT TO THE POINT

--Whose land? Mr Bloom said simply.

--Most pertinent questionthe professor said between his chews. With an
accent on the whose.

--Dan Dawson's land Mr Dedalus said.

--Is it his speech last night? Mr Bloom asked.


Ned Lambert nodded.

--But listen to thishe said.

The doorknob hit Mr Bloom in the small of the back as the door was
pushed in.

--Excuse meJ. J. O'Molloy saidentering.

Mr Bloom moved nimbly aside.

--I beg yourshe said.

--Good dayJack.

--Come in. Come in.

--Good day.

--How are youDedalus?

--Well. And yourself?

J. J. O'Molloy shook his head.
SAD

Cleverest fellow at the junior bar he used to be. Declinepoor chap.
That hectic flush spells finis for a man. Touch and go with him. What's in
the windI wonder. Money worry.

--OR AGAIN IF WE BUT CLIMB THE SERRIED MOUNTAIN PEAKS.

--You're looking extra.

--Is the editor to be seen? J. J. O'Molloy askedlooking towards the
inner door.

--Very much soprofessor MacHugh said. To be seen and heard. He's in
his sanctum with Lenehan.

J. J. O'Molloy strolled to the sloping desk and began to turn back the
pink pages of the file.
Practice dwindling. A mighthavebeen. Losing heart. Gambling. Debts
of honour. Reaping the whirlwind. Used to get good retainers from D. and

T. Fitzgerald. Their wigs to show the grey matter. Brains on their sleeve
like the statue in Glasnevin. Believe he does some literary work for the
EXPRESS with Gabriel Conroy. Wellread fellow. Myles Crawford began on
the INDEPENDENT. Funny the way those newspaper men veer about when
they get wind of a new opening. Weathercocks. Hot and cold in the same
breath. Wouldn't know which to believe. One story good till you hear the
next. Go for one another baldheaded in the papers and then all blows over.
Hail fellow well met the next moment.
--Ahlisten to this for God' sakeNed Lambert pleaded. OR AGAIN IF WE
BUT CLIMB THE SERRIED MOUNTAIN PEAKS ...

--Bombast! the professor broke in testily. Enough of the inflated
windbag!


--PEAKSNed Lambert went onTOWERING HIGH ON HIGHTO BATHE OUR SOULS
AS IT WERE ...

--Bathe his lipsMr Dedalus said. Blessed and eternal God! Yes? Is he
taking anything for it?

--AS 'TWEREIN THE PEERLESS PANORAMA OF IRELAND'S PORTFOLIOUNMATCHED
DESPITE THEIR WELLPRAISED PROTOTYPES IN OTHER VAUNTED PRIZE REGIONSFOR
VERY BEAUTYOF BOSKY GROVE AND UNDULATING PLAIN AND LUSCIOUS PASTURELAND
OF VERNAL GREENSTEEPED IN THE TRANSCENDENT TRANSLUCENT GLOW OF OUR MILD
MYSTERIOUS IRISH TWILIGHT ...

HIS NATIVE DORIC

--The moonprofessor MacHugh said. He forgot Hamlet.

--THAT MANTLES THE VISTA FAR AND WIDE AND WAIT TILL THE GLOWING ORB OF
THE MOON SHINE FORTH TO IRRADIATE HER SILVER EFFULGENCE ...

--O! Mr Dedalus criedgiving vent to a hopeless groan. Shite and onions!
That'll doNed. Life is too short.

He took off his silk hat andblowing out impatiently his bushy
moustachewelshcombed his hair with raking fingers.

Ned Lambert tossed the newspaper asidechuckling with delight. An
instant after a hoarse bark of laughter burst over professor MacHugh's
unshaven blackspectacled face.

--Doughy Daw! he cried.

WHAT WETHERUP SAID

All very fine to jeer at it now in cold print but it goes down like hot
cake that stuff. He was in the bakery line toowasn't he? Why they call
him Doughy Daw. Feathered his nest well anyhow. Daughter engaged to that
chap in the inland revenue office with the motor. Hooked that nicely.
Entertainments. Open house. Big blowout. Wetherup always said that. Get
a grip of them by the stomach.

The inner door was opened violently and a scarlet beaked face
crested by a comb of feathery hairthrust itself in. The bold blue eyes
stared about them and the harsh voice asked:

--What is it?

--And here comes the sham squire himself! professor MacHugh said grandly.

--Getonouthatyou bloody old pedagogue! the editor said in recognition.

--ComeNedMr Dedalus saidputting on his hat. I must get a drink
after that.

--Drink! the editor cried. No drinks served before mass.

--Quite right tooMr Dedalus saidgoing out. Come onNed.

Ned Lambert sidled down from the table. The editor's blue eyes roved
towards Mr Bloom's faceshadowed by a smile.


--Will you join usMyles? Ned Lambert asked.

MEMORABLE BATTLES RECALLED

--North Cork militia! the editor criedstriding to the mantelpiece. We

won every time! North Cork and Spanish officers!
--Where was thatMyles? Ned Lambert asked with a reflective glance at
his toecaps.


--In Ohio! the editor shouted.
--So it wasbegadNed Lambert agreed.
Passing out he whispered to J. J. O'Molloy:
--Incipient jigs. Sad case.
--Ohio! the editor crowed in high treble from his uplifted scarlet face.


My Ohio!
--A perfect cretic! the professor said. Longshort and long.


OHARP EOLIAN!

He took a reel of dental floss from his waistcoat pocket andbreaking
off a piecetwanged it smartly between two and two of his resonant
unwashed teeth.

--Bingbangbangbang.
Mr Bloomseeing the coast clearmade for the inner door.
--Just a momentMr Crawfordhe said. I just want to phone about an ad.
He went in.
--What about that leader this evening? professor MacHugh askedcoming


to the editor and laying a firm hand on his shoulder.


--That'll be all rightMyles Crawford said more calmly. Never you fret.
HelloJack. That's all right.
--Good dayMylesJ. J. O'Molloy saidletting the pages he held slip


limply back on the file. Is that Canada swindle case on today?
The telephone whirred inside.
--Twentyeight ... Notwenty ... Double four ... Yes.


SPOT THE WINNER

Lenehan came out of the inner office with SPORT'S tissues.

--Who wants a dead cert for the Gold cup? he asked. Sceptre with O.
Madden up.
He tossed the tissues on to the table.



Screams of newsboys barefoot in the hall rushed near and the door
was flung open.

--HushLenehan said. I hear feetstoops.

Professor MacHugh strode across the room and seized the cringing
urchin by the collar as the others scampered out of the hall and down the
steps. The tissues rustled up in the draughtfloated softly in the air
blue scrawls and under the table came to earth.

--It wasn't mesir. It was the big fellow shoved mesir.

--Throw him out and shut the doorthe editor said. There's a hurricane
blowing.

Lenehan began to paw the tissues up from the floorgrunting as he
stooped twice.

--Waiting for the racing specialsirthe newsboy said. It was Pat
Farrell shoved mesir.

He pointed to two faces peering in round the doorframe.

--Himsir.

--Out of this with youprofessor MacHugh said gruffly.

He hustled the boy out and banged the door to.

J. J. O'Molloy turned the files crackingly overmurmuringseeking:
--Continued on page sixcolumn four.

--YesEVENING TELEGRAPH hereMr Bloom phoned from the inner office. Is
the boss ...? YesTELEGRAPH ... To where? Aha! Which auction rooms ?...
Aha! I see ... Right. I'll catch him.

A COLLISION ENSUES

The bell whirred again as he rang off. He came in quickly and
bumped against Lenehan who was struggling up with the second tissue.

--PARDONMONSIEURLenehan saidclutching him for an instant and making
a grimace.

--My faultMr Bloom saidsuffering his grip. Are you hurt? I'm in a
hurry.

--KneeLenehan said.

He made a comic face and whinedrubbing his knee:

--The accumulation of the ANNO DOMINI.

--SorryMr Bloom said.

He went to the door andholding it ajarpaused. J. J. O'Molloy
slapped the heavy pages over. The noise of two shrill voicesa
mouthorganechoed in the bare hallway from the newsboys squatted on the
doorsteps:


--WE ARE THE BOYS OF WEXFORD
WHO FOUGHT WITH HEART AND HAND.


EXIT BLOOM

--I'm just running round to Bachelor's walkMr Bloom saidabout this ad
of Keyes's. Want to fix it up. They tell me he's round there in Dillon's.

He looked indecisively for a moment at their faces. The editor who
leaning against the mantelshelfhad propped his head on his hand
suddenly stretched forth an arm amply.

--Begone! he said. The world is before you.

--Back in no timeMr Bloom saidhurrying out.

J. J. O'Molloy took the tissues from Lenehan's hand and read them
blowing them apart gentlywithout comment.
--He'll get that advertisementthe professor saidstaring through his
blackrimmed spectacles over the crossblind. Look at the young scamps after
him.

--Show. Where? Lenehan criedrunning to the window.

A STREET CORTEGE

Both smiled over the crossblind at the file of capering newsboys in Mr
Bloom's wakethe last zigzagging white on the breeze a mocking kitea
tail of white bowknots.

--Look at the young guttersnipe behind him hue and cryLenehan saidand
you'll kick. Omy rib risible! Taking off his flat spaugs and the walk.
Small nines. Steal upon larks.

He began to mazurka in swift caricature across the floor on sliding
feet past the fireplace to J. J. O'Molloy who placed the tissues in his
receiving hands.

--What's that? Myles Crawford said with a start. Where are the other two
gone?

--Who? the professor saidturning. They're gone round to the Oval for a
drink. Paddy Hooper is there with Jack Hall. Came over last night.

--Come on thenMyles Crawford said. Where's my hat?

He walked jerkily into the office behindparting the vent of his jacket
jingling his keys in his back pocket. They jingled then in the air and
against the wood as he locked his desk drawer.

--He's pretty well onprofessor MacHugh said in a low voice.

--Seems to beJ. J. O'Molloy saidtaking out a cigarettecase in
murmuring meditationbut it is not always as it seems. Who has the most
matches?

THE CALUMET OF PEACE


He offered a cigarette to the professor and took one himself. Lenehan
promptly struck a match for them and lit their cigarettes in turn. J. J.
O'Molloy opened his case again and offered it.

--THANKY VOUSLenehan saidhelping himself.

The editor came from the inner officea straw hat awry on his brow.
He declaimed in songpointing sternly at professor MacHugh:

--'TWAS RANK AND FAME THAT TEMPTED THEE
'TWAS EMPIRE CHARMED THY HEART.


The professor grinnedlocking his long lips.

--Eh? You bloody old Roman empire? Myles Crawford said.

He took a cigarette from the open case. Lenehanlighting it for him
with quick gracesaid:

--Silence for my brandnew riddle!

--IMPERIUM ROMANUMJ. J. O'Molloy said gently. It sounds nobler than
British or Brixton. The word reminds one somehow of fat in the fire.

Myles Crawford blew his first puff violently towards the ceiling.

--That's ithe said. We are the fat. You and I are the fat in the fire.
We haven't got the chance of a snowball in hell.

THE GRANDEUR THAT WAS ROME

--Wait a momentprofessor MacHugh saidraising two quiet claws. We
mustn't be led away by wordsby sounds of words. We think of Rome
imperialimperiousimperative.


He extended elocutionary arms from frayed stained shirtcuffspausing:


--What was their civilisation? VastI allow: but vile. Cloacae: sewers.
The Jews in the wilderness and on the mountaintop said: IT IS MEET TO BE
HERE. LET US BUILD AN ALTAR TO JEHOVAH. The Romanlike the Englishman who
follows in his footstepsbrought to every new shore on which he set his
foot (on our shore he never set it) only his cloacal obsession. He gazed
about him in his toga and he said: IT IS MEET TO BE HERE. LET US CONSTRUCT
A WATERCLOSET.


--Which they accordingly did doLenehan said. Our old ancient ancestors
as we read in the first chapter of Guinness'swere partial to the running
stream.


--They were nature's gentlemenJ. J. O'Molloy murmured. But we have
also Roman law.


--And Pontius Pilate is its prophetprofessor MacHugh responded.


--Do you know that story about chief baron Palles? J. J. O'Molloy asked.
It was at the royal university dinner. Everything was going
swimmingly ...



--First my riddleLenehan said. Are you ready?

Mr O'Madden Burketall in copious grey of Donegal tweedcame in
from the hallway. Stephen Dedalusbehind himuncovered as he entered.

--ENTREZMES ENFANTS! Lenehan cried.

--I escort a suppliantMr O'Madden Burke said melodiously. Youth led by
Experience visits Notoriety.

--How do you do? the editor saidholding out a hand. Come in. Your
governor is just gone.

? ? ?

Lenehan said to all:

--Silence! What opera resembles a railwayline? Reflectponder
excogitatereply.

Stephen handed over the typed sheetspointing to the title and signature.

--Who? the editor asked.

Bit torn off.

--Mr Garrett DeasyStephen said.

--That old peltersthe editor said. Who tore it? Was he short taken?

ON SWIFT SAIL FLAMING
FROM STORM AND SOUTH
HE COMESPALE VAMPIRE
MOUTH TO MY MOUTH.


--Good dayStephenthe professor saidcoming to peer over their
shoulders. Foot and mouth? Are you turned ...?

Bullockbefriending bard.

SHINDY IN WELLKNOWN RESTAURANT

--Good daysirStephen answered blushing. The letter is not mine. Mr
Garrett Deasy asked me to ...

--OI know himMyles Crawford saidand I knew his wife too. The
bloodiest old tartar God ever made. By Jesusshe had the foot and mouth
disease and no mistake! The night she threw the soup in the waiter's face
in the Star and Garter. Oho!

A woman brought sin into the world. For Helenthe runaway wife of
Menelausten years the Greeks. O'Rourkeprince of Breffni.

--Is he a widower? Stephen asked.

--Aya grass oneMyles Crawford saidhis eye running down the
typescript. Emperor's horses. Habsburg. An Irishman saved his life on the
ramparts of Vienna. Don't you forget! Maximilian Karl O'Donnellgraf


von Tirconnell in Ireland. Sent his heir over to make the king an Austrian
fieldmarshal now. Going to be trouble there one day. Wild geese. O yes
every time. Don't you forget that!

--The moot point is did he forget itJ. J. O'Molloy said quietly
turning a horseshoe paperweight. Saving princes is a thank you job.

Professor MacHugh turned on him.

--And if not? he said.

--I'll tell you how it wasMyles Crawford began. A Hungarian it was one
day ...

LOST CAUSES

NOBLE MARQUESS MENTIONED

--We were always loyal to lost causesthe professor said. Success for us
is the death of the intellect and of the imagination. We were never loyal
to the successful. We serve them. I teach the blatant Latin language. I
speak the tongue of a race the acme of whose mentality is the maxim: time
is money. Material domination. DOMINUS! Lord! Where is the spirituality?
Lord Jesus? Lord Salisbury? A sofa in a westend club. But the Greek!

KYRIE ELEISON!

A smile of light brightened his darkrimmed eyeslengthened his long
lips.

--The Greek! he said again. KYRIOS! Shining word! The vowels the Semite
and the Saxon know not. KYRIE! The radiance of the intellect. I ought to
profess Greekthe language of the mind. KYRIE ELEISON! The closetmaker
and the cloacamaker will never be lords of our spirit. We are liege
subjects of the catholic chivalry of Europe that foundered at Trafalgar
and of the empire of the spiritnot an IMPERIUMthat went under with the
Athenian fleets at Aegospotami. Yesyes. They went under. Pyrrhusmisled
by an oraclemade a last attempt to retrieve the fortunes of Greece.
Loyal to a lost cause.

He strode away from them towards the window.

--They went forth to battleMr O'Madden Burke said greylybut they
always fell.

--Boohoo! Lenehan wept with a little noise. Owing to a brick received in
the latter half of the MATINEE. Poorpoorpoor Pyrrhus!

He whispered then near Stephen's ear:

LENEHAN'S LIMERICK

--THERE'S A PONDEROUS PUNDIT MACHUGH
WHO WEARS GOGGLES OF EBONY HUE.
AS HE MOSTLY SEES DOUBLE
TO WEAR THEM WHY TROUBLE?
I CAN'T SEE THE JOE MILLER. CAN YOU?



In mourning for SallustMulligan says. Whose mother is beastly dead.
Myles Crawford crammed the sheets into a sidepocket.

--That'll be all righthe said. I'll read the rest after. That'll be all
right.

Lenehan extended his hands in protest.
--But my riddle! he said. What opera is like a railwayline?


--Opera? Mr O'Madden Burke's sphinx face reriddled.
Lenehan announced gladly:


--THE ROSE OF CASTILE. See the wheeze? Rows of cast steel. Gee!


He poked Mr O'Madden Burke mildly in the spleen. Mr O'Madden Burke
fell back with grace on his umbrellafeigning a gasp.
--Help! he sighed. I feel a strong weakness.


Lenehanrising to tiptoefanned his face rapidly with the rustling
tissues.

The professorreturning by way of the filesswept his hand across
Stephen's and Mr O'Madden Burke's loose ties.

--Parispast and presenthe said. You look like communards.

--Like fellows who had blown up the BastileJ. J. O'Molloy said in quiet
mockery. Or was it you shot the lord lieutenant of Finland between you?
You look as though you had done the deed. General Bobrikoff.

OMNIUM GATHERUM

--We were only thinking about itStephen said.
--All the talentsMyles Crawford said. Lawthe classics ...


--The turfLenehan put in.
--Literaturethe press.


--If Bloom were herethe professor said. The gentle art of advertisement.


--And Madam BloomMr O'Madden Burke added. The vocal muse. Dublin's
prime favourite.

Lenehan gave a loud cough.

--Ahem! he said very softly. Ofor a fresh of breath air! I caught a
cold in the park. The gate was open.

YOU CAN DO IT!

The editor laid a nervous hand on Stephen's shoulder.


--I want you to write something for mehe said. Something with a bite in
it. You can do it. I see it in your face. IN THE LEXICON OF YOUTH ...

See it in your face. See it in your eye. Lazy idle little schemer.

--Foot and mouth disease! the editor cried in scornful invective. Great
nationalist meeting in Borris-in-Ossory. All balls! Bulldosing the public!
Give them something with a bite in it. Put us all into itdamn its soul.
FatherSon and Holy Ghost and Jakes M'Carthy.

--We can all supply mental pabulumMr O'Madden Burke said.

Stephen raised his eyes to the bold unheeding stare.

--He wants you for the pressgangJ. J. O'Molloy said.

THE GREAT GALLAHER

--You can do itMyles Crawford repeatedclenching his hand in emphasis.
Wait a minute. We'll paralyse Europe as Ignatius Gallaher used to say when
he was on the shaughraundoing billiardmarking in the Clarence. Gallaher
that was a pressman for you. That was a pen. You know how he made his
mark? I'll tell you. That was the smartest piece of journalism ever known.
That was in eightyonesixth of Maytime of the invinciblesmurder in
the Phoenix parkbefore you were bornI suppose. I'll show you.

He pushed past them to the files.

--Look at herehe said turning. The NEW YORK WORLD cabled for a special.
Remember that time?

Professor MacHugh nodded.

--NEW YORK WORLDthe editor saidexcitedly pushing back his straw hat.
Where it took place. Tim Kellyor Kavanagh I mean. Joe Brady and the
rest of them. Where Skin-the-Goat drove the car. Whole routesee?

--Skin-the-GoatMr O'Madden Burke said. Fitzharris. He has that
cabman's shelterthey saydown there at Butt bridge. Holohan told me.
You know Holohan?

--Hop and carry oneis it? Myles Crawford said.

--And poor Gumley is down there tooso he told meminding stones for
the corporation. A night watchman.

Stephen turned in surprise.

--Gumley? he said. You don't say so? A friend of my father'sis it?

--Never mind GumleyMyles Crawford cried angrily. Let Gumley mind
the stonessee they don't run away. Look at here. What did Ignatius
Gallaher do? I'll tell you. Inspiration of genius. Cabled right away. Have
you WEEKLY FREEMAN of 17 March? Right. Have you got that?

He flung back pages of the files and stuck his finger on a point.

--Take page fouradvertisement for Bransome's coffeelet us say. Have
you got that? Right.

The telephone whirred.


A DISTANT VOICE

--I'll answer itthe professor saidgoing.

--B is parkgate. Good.

His finger leaped and struck point after pointvibrating.

--T is viceregal lodge. C is where murder took place. K is Knockmaroon
gate.


The loose flesh of his neck shook like a cock's wattles. An illstarched
dicky jutted up and with a rude gesture he thrust it back into his
waistcoat.


--Hello? EVENING TELEGRAPH here ... Hello?... Who's there? ...
Yes ... Yes ... Yes.


--F to P is the route Skin-the-Goat drove the car for an alibiInchicore
RoundtownWindy ArbourPalmerston ParkRanelagh. F.A.B.P. Got that?
X is Davy's publichouse in upper Leeson street.


The professor came to the inner door.


--Bloom is at the telephonehe said.


--Tell him go to hellthe editor said promptly. X is Davy's publichouse
see?


CLEVERVERY

--CleverLenehan said. Very.

--Gave it to them on a hot plateMyles Crawford saidthe whole bloody
history.

Nightmare from which you will never awake.

--I saw itthe editor said proudly. I was present. Dick Adamsthe
besthearted bloody Corkman the Lord ever put the breath of life inand
myself.

Lenehan bowed to a shape of airannouncing:

--MadamI'm Adam. And Able was I ere I saw Elba.

--History! Myles Crawford cried. The Old Woman of Prince's street was
there first. There was weeping and gnashing of teeth over that. Out of an
advertisement. Gregor Grey made the design for it. That gave him the leg
up. Then Paddy Hooper worked Tay Pay who took him on to the STAR.
Now he's got in with Blumenfeld. That's press. That's talent. Pyatt! He
was all their daddies!

--The father of scare journalismLenehan confirmedand the
brother-in-law of Chris Callinan.

--Hello? ... Are you there? ... Yeshe's here still. Come across
yourself.

--Where do you find a pressman like that noweh? the editor cried.


He flung the pages down.

--Clamn deverLenehan said to Mr O'Madden Burke.

--Very smartMr O'Madden Burke said.

Professor MacHugh came from the inner office.

--Talking about the invincibleshe saiddid you see that some hawkers
were up before the recorder

--O yesJ. J. O'Molloy said eagerly. Lady Dudley was walking home
through the park to see all the trees that were blown down by that cyclone
last year and thought she'd buy a view of Dublin. And it turned out to be
a commemoration postcard of Joe Brady or Number One or Skin-the-Goat.
Right outside the viceregal lodgeimagine!

--They're only in the hook and eye departmentMyles Crawford said.
Psha! Press and the bar! Where have you a man now at the bar like those
fellowslike Whitesidelike Isaac Buttlike silvertongued O'Hagan. Eh?
Ahbloody nonsense. Psha! Only in the halfpenny place.

His mouth continued to twitch unspeaking in nervous curls of disdain.

Would anyone wish that mouth for her kiss? How do you know? Why did
you write it then?

RHYMES AND REASONS

Mouthsouth. Is the mouth south someway? Or the south a mouth?
Must be some. Southpoutoutshoutdrouth. Rhymes: two men dressed
the samelooking the sametwo by two.


. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .LA TUA PACE
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .CHE PARLAR TI PIACE
. . . . .MENTREM CHE IL VENTOCOME FASI TACE.


He saw them three by threeapproaching girlsin greenin rosein
russetentwiningPER L'AER PERSOin mauvein purpleQUELLA PACIFICA
ORIAFIAMMAgold of oriflammeDI RIMIRAR FE PIU ARDENTI. But I old men
penitentleadenfootedunderdarkneath the night: mouth south: tomb womb.

--Speak up for yourselfMr O'Madden Burke said.

SUFFICIENT FOR THE DAY ...

J. J. O'Molloysmiling palelytook up the gage.
--My dear Myleshe saidflinging his cigarette asideyou put a false
construction on my words. I hold no briefas at present advisedfor the
third profession qua profession but your Cork legs are running away with
you. Why not bring in Henry Grattan and Flood and Demosthenes and
Edmund Burke? Ignatius Gallaher we all know and his Chapelizod boss
Harmsworth of the farthing pressand his American cousin of the Bowery
guttersheet not to mention PADDY KELLY'S BUDGETPUE'S OCCURRENCES and our
watchful friend THE SKIBBEREEN EAGLE. Why bring in a master of forensic
eloquence like Whiteside? Sufficient for the day is the newspaper thereof.


LINKS WITH BYGONE DAYS OF YORE

--Grattan and Flood wrote for this very paperthe editor cried in his
face. Irish volunteers. Where are you now? Established 1763. Dr Lucas.
Who have you now like John Philpot Curran? Psha!

--WellJ. J. O'Molloy saidBushe K.C.for example.

--Bushe? the editor said. Wellyes: Busheyes. He has a strain of it in
his blood. Kendal Bushe or I mean Seymour Bushe.

--He would have been on the bench long agothe professor saidonly
for ... But no matter.

J. J. O'Molloy turned to Stephen and said quietly and slowly:
--One of the most polished periods I think I ever listened to in my life
fell from the lips of Seymour Bushe. It was in that case of fratricide
the Childs murder case. Bushe defended him.

AND IN THE PORCHES OF MINE EAR DID POUR.

By the way how did he find that out? He died in his sleep. Or the
other storybeast with two backs?

--What was that? the professor asked.

ITALIAMAGISTRA ARTIUM

--He spoke on the law of evidenceJ. J. O'Molloy saidof Roman justice
as contrasted with the earlier Mosaic codethe LEX TALIONIS. And he cited
the Moses of Michelangelo in the vatican.

--Ha.

--A few wellchosen wordsLenehan prefaced. Silence!

Pause. J. J. O'Molloy took out his cigarettecase.

False lull. Something quite ordinary.

Messenger took out his matchbox thoughtfully and lit his cigar.

I have often thought since on looking back over that strange time that
it was that small acttrivial in itselfthat striking of that match
that determined the whole aftercourse of both our lives.

A POLISHED PERIOD

J. J. O'Molloy resumedmoulding his words:
--He said of it: THAT STONY EFFIGY IN FROZEN MUSICHORNED AND TERRIBLE
OF THE HUMAN FORM DIVINETHAT ETERNAL SYMBOL OF WISDOM AND OF PROPHECY
WHICHIF AUGHT THAT THE IMAGINATION OR THE HAND OF SCULPTOR HAS WROUGHT
IN MARBLE OF SOULTRANSFIGURED AND OF SOULTRANSFIGURING DESERVES TO LIVE
DESERVES TO LIVE.


His slim hand with a wave graced echo and fall.

--Fine! Myles Crawford said at once.

--The divine afflatusMr O'Madden Burke said.

--You like it? J. J. O'Molloy asked Stephen.

Stephenhis blood wooed by grace of language and gestureblushed.
He took a cigarette from the case. J. J. O'Molloy offered his case to
Myles Crawford. Lenehan lit their cigarettes as before and took his
trophysaying:

--Muchibus thankibus.

A MAN OF HIGH MORALE

--Professor Magennis was speaking to me about youJ. J. O'Molloy said to
Stephen. What do you think really of that hermetic crowdthe opal hush
poets: A. E. the mastermystic? That Blavatsky woman started it. She was a
nice old bag of tricks. A. E. has been telling some yankee interviewer
that you came to him in the small hours of the morning to ask him about
planes of consciousness. Magennis thinks you must have been pulling

A. E.'s leg. He is a man of the very highest moraleMagennis.
Speaking about me. What did he say? What did he say? What did he
say about me? Don't ask.

--Nothanksprofessor MacHugh saidwaving the cigarettecase aside.
Wait a moment. Let me say one thing. The finest display of oratory I ever
heard was a speech made by John F Taylor at the college historical
society. Mr Justice Fitzgibbonthe present lord justice of appealhad
spoken and the paper under debate was an essay (new for those days)
advocating the revival of the Irish tongue.

He turned towards Myles Crawford and said:

--You know Gerald Fitzgibbon. Then you can imagine the style of his
discourse.

--He is sitting with Tim HealyJ. J. O'Molloy saidrumour has iton
the Trinity college estates commission.

--He is sitting with a sweet thingMyles Crawford saidin a child's
frock. Go on. Well?

--It was the speechmark youthe professor saidof a finished orator
full of courteous haughtiness and pouring in chastened diction I will not
say the vials of his wrath but pouring the proud man's contumely upon the
new movement. It was then a new movement. We were weaktherefore
worthless.

He closed his long thin lips an instant buteager to be onraised an
outspanned hand to his spectacles andwith trembling thumb and
ringfinger touching lightly the black rimssteadied them to a new focus.

IMPROMPTU

In ferial tone he addressed J. J. O'Molloy:


--Taylor had come thereyou must knowfrom a sickbed. That he had
prepared his speech I do not believe for there was not even one
shorthandwriter in the hall. His dark lean face had a growth of shaggy
beard round it. He wore a loose white silk neckcloth and altogether he
looked (though he was not) a dying man.

His gaze turned at once but slowly from J. J. O'Molloy's towards
Stephen's face and then bent at once to the groundseeking. His unglazed
linen collar appeared behind his bent headsoiled by his withering hair.
Still seekinghe said:

--When Fitzgibbon's speech had ended John F Taylor rose to reply.
Brieflyas well as I can bring them to mindhis words were these.

He raised his head firmly. His eyes bethought themselves once more.
Witless shellfish swam in the gross lenses to and froseeking outlet.

He began:

--MR CHAIRMANLADIES AND GENTLEMEN: GREAT WAS MY ADMIRATION IN LISTENING
TO THE REMARKS ADDRESSED TO THE YOUTH OF IRELAND A MOMENT SINCE BY MY
LEARNED FRIEND. IT SEEMED TO ME THAT I HAD BEEN TRANSPORTED INTO A COUNTRY
FAR AWAY FROM THIS COUNTRYINTO AN AGE REMOTE FROM THIS AGETHAT I STOOD
IN ANCIENT EGYPT AND THAT I WAS LISTENING TO THE SPEECH OF SOME HIGHPRIEST
OF THAT LAND ADDRESSED TO THE YOUTHFUL MOSES.

His listeners held their cigarettes poised to heartheir smokes
ascending in frail stalks that flowered with his speech. And let our
crooked smokes. Noble words coming. Look out. Could you try your hand at
it yourself?

--AND IT SEEMED TO ME THAT I HEARD THE VOICE OF THAT EGYPTIAN HIGHPRIEST
RAISED IN A TONE OF LIKE HAUGHTINESS AND LIKE PRIDE. I HEARD HIS WORDS AND
THEIR MEANING WAS REVEALED TO ME.

FROM THE FATHERS

It was revealed to me that those things are good which yet are
corrupted which neither if they were supremely good nor unless they were
good could be corrupted. Ahcurse you! That's saint Augustine.

--WHY WILL YOU JEWS NOT ACCEPT OUR CULTUREOUR RELIGION AND OUR
LANGUAGE? YOU ARE A TRIBE OF NOMAD HERDSMEN: WE ARE A MIGHTY PEOPLE. YOU
HAVE NO CITIES NOR NO WEALTH: OUR CITIES ARE HIVES OF HUMANITY AND OUR
GALLEYSTRIREME AND QUADRIREMELADEN WITH ALL MANNER MERCHANDISE FURROW
THE WATERS OF THE KNOWN GLOBE. YOU HAVE BUT EMERGED FROM PRIMITIVE
CONDITIONS: WE HAVE A LITERATUREA PRIESTHOODAN AGELONG HISTORY AND A
POLITY.

Nile.

Childmaneffigy.

By the Nilebank the babemaries kneelcradle of bulrushes: a man
supple in combat: stonehornedstonebeardedheart of stone.

--YOU PRAY TO A LOCAL AND OBSCURE IDOL: OUR TEMPLESMAJESTIC AND
MYSTERIOUSARE THE ABODES OF ISIS AND OSIRISOF HORUS AND AMMON RA.
YOURS SERFDOMAWE AND HUMBLENESS: OURS THUNDER AND THE SEAS. ISRAEL IS
WEAK AND FEW ARE HER CHILDREN: EGYPT IS AN HOST AND TERRIBLE ARE HER ARMS.

VAGRANTS AND DAYLABOURERS ARE YOU CALLED: THE WORLD TREMBLES AT OUR NAME.


A dumb belch of hunger cleft his speech. He lifted his voice above it
boldly:

--BUTLADIES AND GENTLEMENHAD THE YOUTHFUL MOSES LISTENED TO AND
ACCEPTED THAT VIEW OF LIFEHAD HE BOWED HIS HEAD AND BOWED HIS WILL AND
BOWED HIS SPIRIT BEFORE THAT ARROGANT ADMONITION HE WOULD NEVER HAVE
BROUGHT THE CHOSEN PEOPLE OUT OF THEIR HOUSE OF BONDAGENOR FOLLOWED THE
PILLAR OF THE CLOUD BY DAY. HE WOULD NEVER HAVE SPOKEN WITH THE ETERNAL
AMID LIGHTNINGS ON SINAI'S MOUNTAINTOP NOR EVER HAVE COME DOWN WITH THE
LIGHT OF INSPIRATION SHINING IN HIS COUNTENANCE AND BEARING IN HIS ARMS
THE TABLES OF THE LAWGRAVEN IN THE LANGUAGE OF THE OUTLAW.

He ceased and looked at themenjoying a silence.

OMINOUS--FOR HIM!

J. J. O'Molloy said not without regret:
--And yet he died without having entered the land of promise.

--A sudden--at--the--moment--though--from--lingering--illness-often--
previously--expectorated--demiseLenehan added. And with a
great future behind him.

The troop of bare feet was heard rushing along the hallway and
pattering up the staircase.

--That is oratorythe professor said uncontradicted. Gone with the wind.
Hosts at Mullaghmast and Tara of the kings. Miles of ears of porches.
The tribune's wordshowled and scattered to the four winds. A people
sheltered within his voice. Dead noise. Akasic records of all that ever
anywhere wherever was. Love and laud him: me no more.

I have money.

--GentlemenStephen said. As the next motion on the agenda paper may I
suggest that the house do now adjourn?

--You take my breath away. It is not perchance a French compliment? Mr
O'Madden Burke asked. 'Tis the hourmethinkswhen the winejug
metaphorically speakingis most grateful in Ye ancient hostelry.

--That it be and hereby is resolutely resolved. All that are in favour
say ayLenehan announced. The contrary no. I declare it carried. To which
particular boosing shed? ... My casting vote is: Mooney's!

He led the wayadmonishing:

--We will sternly refuse to partake of strong waterswill we not? Yes
we will not. By no manner of means.

Mr O'Madden Burkefollowing closesaid with an ally's lunge of his
umbrella:

--Lay onMacduff!

--Chip of the old block! the editor criedclapping Stephen on the
shoulder. Let us go. Where are those blasted keys?

He fumbled in his pocket pulling out the crushed typesheets.


--Foot and mouth. I know. That'll be all right. That'll go in. Where are
they? That's all right.

He thrust the sheets back and went into the inner office.

LET US HOPE

J. J. O'Molloyabout to follow him insaid quietly to Stephen:
--I hope you will live to see it published. Mylesone moment.
He went into the inner officeclosing the door behind him.

--Come alongStephenthe professor said. That is fineisn't it? It has
the prophetic vision. FUIT ILIUM! The sack of windy Troy. Kingdoms of this
world. The masters of the Mediterranean are fellaheen today.

The first newsboy came pattering down the stairs at their heels and
rushed out into the streetyelling:

--Racing special!

Dublin. I have muchmuch to learn.
They turned to the left along Abbey street.


--I have a vision tooStephen said.


--Yes? the professor saidskipping to get into step. Crawford will
follow.

Another newsboy shot past themyelling as he ran:
--Racing special!

DEAR DIRTY DUBLIN

Dubliners.

--Two Dublin vestalsStephen saidelderly and pioushave lived fifty
and fiftythree years in Fumbally's lane.
--Where is that? the professor asked.


--Off BlackpittsStephen said.


Damp night reeking of hungry dough. Against the wall. Face
glistering tallow under her fustian shawl. Frantic hearts. Akasic records.
Quickerdarlint!


On now. Dare it. Let there be life.


--They want to see the views of Dublin from the top of Nelson's pillar.
They save up three and tenpence in a red tin letterbox moneybox. They
shake out the threepenny bits and sixpences and coax out the pennies with
the blade of a knife. Two and three in silver and one and seven in
coppers. They put on their bonnets and best clothes and take their
umbrellas for fear it may come on to rain.


--Wise virginsprofessor MacHugh said.



LIFE ON THE RAW

--They buy one and fourpenceworth of brawn and four slices of panloaf at
the north city diningrooms in Marlborough street from Miss Kate Collins
proprietress ... They purchase four and twenty ripe plums from a girl at
the foot of Nelson's pillar to take off the thirst of the brawn. They give
two threepenny bits to the gentleman at the turnstile and begin to waddle
slowly up the winding staircasegruntingencouraging each otherafraid
of the darkpantingone asking the other have you the brawnpraising
God and the Blessed Virginthreatening to come downpeeping at the
airslits. Glory be to God. They had no idea it was that high.

Their names are Anne Kearns and Florence MacCabe. Anne Kearns
has the lumbago for which she rubs on Lourdes watergiven her by a lady
who got a bottleful from a passionist father. Florence MacCabe takes a
crubeen and a bottle of double X for supper every Saturday.

--Antithesisthe professor said nodding twice. Vestal virgins. I can see
them. What's keeping our friend?

He turned.

A bevy of scampering newsboys rushed down the stepsscattering in
all directionsyellingtheir white papers fluttering. Hard after them
Myles Crawford appeared on the stepshis hat aureoling his scarlet face
talking with J. J. O'Molloy.

--Come alongthe professor criedwaving his arm.

He set off again to walk by Stephen's side.

RETURN OF BLOOM

--Yeshe said. I see them.

Mr Bloombreathlesscaught in a whirl of wild newsboys near the
offices of the IRISH CATHOLIC AND DUBLIN PENNY JOURNALcalled:

--Mr Crawford! A moment!

--TELEGRAPH! Racing special!

--What is it? Myles Crawford saidfalling back a pace.

A newsboy cried in Mr Bloom's face:

--Terrible tragedy in Rathmines! A child bit by a bellows!

INTERVIEW WITH THE EDITOR

--Just this adMr Bloom saidpushing through towards the steps
puffingand taking the cutting from his pocket. I spoke with Mr Keyes
just now. He'll give a renewal for two monthshe says. After he'll see.
But he wants a par to call attention in the TELEGRAPH toothe Saturday
pink. And he wants it copied if it's not too late I told councillor
Nannetti from the KILKENNY PEOPLE. I can have access to it in the national


library. House of keysdon't you see? His name is Keyes. It's a play on
the name. But he practically promised he'd give the renewal. But he wants
just a little puff. What will I tell himMr Crawford?

K.M.A.
--Will you tell him he can kiss my arse? Myles Crawford said throwing out
his arm for emphasis. Tell him that straight from the stable.

A bit nervy. Look out for squalls. All off for a drink. Arm in arm.
Lenehan's yachting cap on the cadge beyond. Usual blarney. Wonder is
that young Dedalus the moving spirit. Has a good pair of boots on him
today. Last time I saw him he had his heels on view. Been walking in muck
somewhere. Careless chap. What was he doing in Irishtown?

--WellMr Bloom saidhis eyes returningif I can get the design I
suppose it's worth a short par. He'd give the adI think. I'll tell
him ...

K.M.R.I.A.
--He can kiss my royal Irish arseMyles Crawford cried loudly over his
shoulder. Any time he likestell him.

While Mr Bloom stood weighing the point and about to smile he strode
on jerkily.

RAISING THE WIND

--NULLA BONAJackhe saidraising his hand to his chin. I'm up to
here. I've been through the hoop myself. I was looking for a fellow to
back a bill for me no later than last week. SorryJack. You must take the
will for the deed. With a heart and a half if I could raise the wind
anyhow.

J. J. O'Molloy pulled a long face and walked on silently. They caught
up on the others and walked abreast.
--When they have eaten the brawn and the bread and wiped their twenty
fingers in the paper the bread was wrapped in they go nearer to the
railings.

--Something for youthe professor explained to Myles Crawford. Two old
Dublin women on the top of Nelson's pillar.

SOME COLUMN!--
THAT'S WHAT WADDLER ONE SAID


--That's newMyles Crawford said. That's copy. Out for the waxies
Dargle. Two old trickieswhat?

--But they are afraid the pillar will fallStephen went on. They see the
roofs and argue about where the different churches are: Rathmines' blue
domeAdam and Eve'ssaint Laurence O'Toole's. But it makes them giddy to
look so they pull up their skirts ...


THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES

--Easy allMyles Crawford said. No poetic licence. We're in the
archdiocese here.

--And settle down on their striped petticoatspeering up at the statue
of the onehandled adulterer.

--Onehandled adulterer! the professor cried. I like that. I see the idea.
I see what you mean.

DAMES DONATE DUBLIN'S CITS SPEEDPILLS
VELOCITOUS AEROLITHSBELIEF


--It gives them a crick in their necksStephen saidand they are too
tired to look up or down or to speak. They put the bag of plums between
them and eat the plums out of itone after anotherwiping off with their
handkerchiefs the plumjuice that dribbles out of their mouths and spitting
the plumstones slowly out between the railings.

He gave a sudden loud young laugh as a close. Lenehan and Mr O'Madden
Burkehearingturnedbeckoned and led on across towards Mooney's.

--Finished? Myles Crawford said. So long as they do no worse.

SOPHIST WALLOPS HAUGHTY HELEN SQUARE ON

PROBOSCIS. SPARTANS GNASH MOLARS. ITHACANS

VOW PEN IS CHAMP.

--You remind me of Antisthenesthe professor saida disciple of
Gorgiasthe sophist. It is said of him that none could tell if he were
bitterer against others or against himself. He was the son of a noble and
a bondwoman. And he wrote a book in which he took away the palm of beauty
from Argive Helen and handed it to poor Penelope.

Poor Penelope. Penelope Rich.

They made ready to cross O'Connell street.

HELLO THERECENTRAL!

At various points along the eight lines tramcars with motionless
trolleys stood in their tracksbound for or from RathminesRathfarnham
BlackrockKingstown and DalkeySandymount GreenRingsend and
Sandymount TowerDonnybrookPalmerston Park and Upper Rathmines
all stillbecalmed in short circuit. Hackney carscabsdelivery
waggonsmailvansprivate broughamsaerated mineral water floats with
rattling crates of bottlesrattledrolledhorsedrawnrapidly.

WHAT?--AND LIKEWISE--WHERE?

--But what do you call it? Myles Crawford asked. Where did they get the


plums?

VIRGILIANSAYS PEDAGOGUE.
SOPHOMORE PLUMPS FOR OLD MAN MOSES.


--Call itwaitthe professor saidopening his long lips wide to
reflect. Call itlet me see. Call it: DEUS NOBIS HAEC OTIA FECIT.

--NoStephen said. I call it A PISGAH SIGHT OF PALESTINE OR THE PARABLE
OF THE PLUMS.

--I seethe professor said.

He laughed richly.

--I seehe said again with new pleasure. Moses and the promised land. We
gave him that ideahe added to J. J. O'Molloy.

HORATIO IS CYNOSURE THIS FAIR JUNE DAY

J. J. O'Molloy sent a weary sidelong glance towards the statue and
held his peace.
--I seethe professor said.

He halted on sir John Gray's pavement island and peered aloft at Nelson
through the meshes of his wry smile.

DIMINISHED DIGITS PROVE TOO TITILLATING
FOR FRISKY FRUMPS. ANNE WIMBLESFLO
WANGLES--YET CAN YOU BLAME THEM?


--Onehandled adultererhe said smiling grimly. That tickles meI must
say.

--Tickled the old ones tooMyles Crawford saidif the God Almighty's
truth was known.

* * * * * * *

Pineapple rocklemon plattbutter scotch. A sugarsticky girl
shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a christian brother. Some school treat.
Bad for their tummies. Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty
the King. God. Save. Our. Sitting on his throne sucking red jujubes white.


A sombre Y.M.C.A. young manwatchful among the warm sweet
fumes of Graham Lemon'splaced a throwaway in a hand of Mr Bloom.


Heart to heart talks.


Bloo ... Me? No.


Blood of the Lamb.


His slow feet walked him riverwardreading. Are you saved? All are
washed in the blood of the lamb. God wants blood victim. Birthhymen



martyrwarfoundation of a buildingsacrificekidney burntoffering
druids' altars. Elijah is coming. Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the
church in Zion is coming.

IS COMING! IS COMING!! IS COMING!!!
ALL HEARTILY WELCOME.


Paying game. Torry and Alexander last year. Polygamy. His wife will
put the stopper on that. Where was that ad some Birmingham firm the
luminous crucifix. Our Saviour. Wake up in the dead of night and see him
on the wallhanging. Pepper's ghost idea. Iron nails ran in.

Phosphorus it must be done with. If you leave a bit of codfish for
instance. I could see the bluey silver over it. Night I went down to the
pantry in the kitchen. Don't like all the smells in it waiting to rush
out. What was it she wanted? The Malaga raisins. Thinking of Spain. Before
Rudy was born. The phosphorescencethat bluey greeny. Very good for the
brain.

From Butler's monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor's
walk. Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms. Must be
selling off some old furniture. Knew her eyes at once from the father.
Lobbing about waiting for him. Home always breaks up when the mother
goes. Fifteen children he had. Birth every year almost. That's in their
theology or the priest won't give the poor woman the confessionthe
absolution. Increase and multiply. Did you ever hear such an idea? Eat you
out of house and home. No families themselves to feed. Living on the fat
of the land. Their butteries and larders. I'd like to see them do the
black fast Yom Kippur. Crossbuns. One meal and a collation for fear he'd
collapse on the altar. A housekeeper of one of those fellows if you could
pick it out of her. Never pick it out of her. Like getting l.s.d. out of
him. Does himself well. No guests. All for number one. Watching his water.
Bring your own bread and butter. His reverence: mum's the word.

Good Lordthat poor child's dress is in flitters. Underfed she looks
too. Potatoes and margemarge and potatoes. It's after they feel it.
Proof of the pudding. Undermines the constitution.

As he set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up
from the parapet. Brewery barge with export stout. England. Sea air sours
itI heard. Be interesting some day get a pass through Hancock to see the
brewery. Regular world in itself. Vats of porter wonderful. Rats get in
too. Drink themselves bloated as big as a collie floating. Dead drunk on
the porter. Drink till they puke again like christians. Imagine drinking
that! Rats: vats. Wellof courseif we knew all the things.

Looking down he saw flapping stronglywheeling between the gaunt
quaywallsgulls. Rough weather outside. If I threw myself down?
Reuben J's son must have swallowed a good bellyful of that sewage. One and
eightpence too much. Hhhhm. It's the droll way he comes out with the
things. Knows how to tell a story too.

They wheeled lower. Looking for grub. Wait.

He threw down among them a crumpled paper ball. Elijah thirtytwo
feet per sec is com. Not a bit. The ball bobbed unheeded on the wake of
swellsfloated under by the bridgepiers. Not such damn fools. Also the
day I threw that stale cake out of the Erin's King picked it up in the
wake fifty yards astern. Live by their wits. They wheeledflapping.

THE HUNGRY FAMISHED GULL
FLAPS O'ER THE WATERS DULL.



That is how poets writethe similar sounds. But then Shakespeare has
no rhymes: blank verse. The flow of the language it is. The thoughts.
Solemn.

HAMLETI AM THY FATHER'S SPIRIT

DOOMED FOR A CERTAIN TIME TO WALK THE EARTH.

--Two apples a penny! Two for a penny!


His gaze passed over the glazed apples serried on her stand.
Australians they must be this time of year. Shiny peels: polishes them up
with a rag or a handkerchief.


Wait. Those poor birds.


He halted again and bought from the old applewoman two Banbury
cakes for a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw its fragments down
into the Liffey. See that? The gulls swooped silentlytwothen all from
their heightspouncing on prey. Gone. Every morsel.


Aware of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his
hands. They never expected that. Manna. Live on fishfishy flesh
they haveall seabirdsgullsseagoose. Swans from Anna Liffey swim
down here sometimes to preen themselves. No accounting for tastes.
Wonder what kind is swanmeat. Robinson Crusoe had to live on them.


They wheeled flapping weakly. I'm not going to throw any more.
Penny quite enough. Lot of thanks I get. Not even a caw. They spread foot
and mouth disease too. If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes
like that. Eat pig like pig. But then why is it that saltwater fish are
not salty? How is that?


His eyes sought answer from the river and saw a rowboat rock at anchor
on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board.


KINO'S
11/-
TROUSERS


Good idea that. Wonder if he pays rent to the corporation. How can
you own water really? It's always flowing in a streamnever the same
which in the stream of life we trace. Because life is a stream. All kinds
of places are good for ads. That quack doctor for the clap used to be
stuck up in all the greenhouses. Never see it now. Strictly confidential.
Dr Hy Franks. Didn't cost him a red like Maginni the dancing master self
advertisement. Got fellows to stick them up or stick them up himself for
that matter on the q. t. running in to loosen a button. Flybynight. Just
the place too. POST NO BILLS. POST 110 PILLS. Some chap with a dose
burning him.


If he ...?


O!


Eh?


No ... No.


Nono. I don't believe it. He wouldn't surely?



Nono.

Mr Bloom moved forwardraising his troubled eyes. Think no more about
that. After one. Timeball on the ballastoffice is down. Dunsink time.
Fascinating little book that is of sir Robert Ball's. Parallax. I never
exactly understood. There's a priest. Could ask him. Par it's Greek:
parallelparallax. Met him pike hoses she called it till I told her about
the transmigration. O rocks!

Mr Bloom smiled O rocks at two windows of the ballastoffice. She's
right after all. Only big words for ordinary things on account of the
sound. She's not exactly witty. Can be rude too. Blurt out what I was
thinking. StillI don't know. She used to say Ben Dollard had a base
barreltone voice. He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was singing
into a barrel. Nowisn't that wit. They used to call him big Ben. Not
half as witty as calling him base barreltone. Appetite like an albatross.
Get outside of a baron of beef. Powerful man he was at stowing away number
one Bass. Barrel of Bass. See? It all works out.

A procession of whitesmocked sandwichmen marched slowly towards
him along the gutterscarlet sashes across their boards. Bargains. Like
that priest they are this morning: we have sinned: we have suffered. He
read the scarlet letters on their five tall white hats: H. E. L. Y. S.
Wisdom Hely's. Y lagging behind drew a chunk of bread from under his
foreboardcrammed it into his mouth and munched as he walked. Our staple
food. Three bob a daywalking along the guttersstreet after street.
Just keep skin and bone togetherbread and skilly. They are not Boyl:
noM Glade's men. Doesn't bring in any business either. I suggested
to him about a transparent showcart with two smart girls sitting
inside writing letterscopybooksenvelopesblottingpaper. I bet that
would have caught on. Smart girls writing something catch the eye at once.
Everyone dying to know what she's writing. Get twenty of them round you
if you stare at nothing. Have a finger in the pie. Women too. Curiosity.
Pillar of salt. Wouldn't have it of course because he didn't think
of it himself first. Or the inkbottle I suggested with a false stain
of black celluloid. His ideas for ads like Plumtree's potted under
the obituariescold meat department. You can't lick 'em. What? Our
envelopes. HelloJoneswhere are you going? Can't stopRobinson
I am hastening to purchase the only reliable inkeraser KANSELL
sold by Hely's Ltd85 Dame street. Well out of that ruck I am.
Devil of a job it was collecting accounts of those convents. Tranquilla
convent. That was a nice nun therereally sweet face. Wimple suited her
small head. Sister? Sister? I am sure she was crossed in love by her eyes.
Very hard to bargain with that sort of a woman. I disturbed her at her
devotions that morning. But glad to communicate with the outside world.
Our great dayshe said. Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Sweet name
too: caramel. She knew II think she knew by the way she. If she had
married she would have changed. I suppose they really were short of
money. Fried everything in the best butter all the same. No lard for them.
My heart's broke eating dripping. They like buttering themselves in and
out. Molly tasting ither veil up. Sister? Pat Claffeythe pawnbroker's
daughter. It was a nun they say invented barbed wire.

He crossed Westmoreland street when apostrophe S had plodded by.
Rover cycleshop. Those races are on today. How long ago is that? Year
Phil Gilligan died. We were in Lombard street west. Wait: was in Thom's.
Got the job in Wisdom Hely's year we married. Six years. Ten years ago:
ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's. Val Dillon
was lord mayor. The Glencree dinner. Alderman Robert O'Reilly emptying the
port into his soup before the flag fell. Bobbob lapping it for the inner
alderman. Couldn't hear what the band played. For what we have already
received may the Lord make us. Milly was a kiddy then. Molly had that
elephantgrey dress with the braided frogs. Mantailored with selfcovered


buttons. She didn't like it because I sprained my ankle first day she wore
choir picnic at the Sugarloaf. As if that. Old Goodwin's tall hat done up
with some sticky stuff. Flies' picnic too. Never put a dress on her back
like it. Fitted her like a gloveshoulders and hips. Just beginning to
plump it out well. Rabbitpie we had that day. People looking after her.

Happy. Happier then. Snug little room that was with the red
wallpaper. Dockrell'sone and ninepence a dozen. Milly's tubbing night.
American soap I bought: elderflower. Cosy smell of her bathwater. Funny
she looked soaped all over. Shapely too. Now photography. Poor papa's
daguerreotype atelier he told me of. Hereditary taste.

He walked along the curbstone.

Stream of life. What was the name of that priestylooking chap was
always squinting in when he passed? Weak eyeswoman. Stopped in
Citron's saint Kevin's parade. Pen something. Pendennis? My memory is
getting. Pen ...? Of course it's years ago. Noise of the trams probably.
Wellif he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he sees every day.

Bartell d'Arcy was the tenorjust coming out then. Seeing her home
after practice. Conceited fellow with his waxedup moustache. Gave her that
song WINDS THAT BLOW FROM THE SOUTH.

Windy night that was I went to fetch her there was that lodge meeting
on about those lottery tickets after Goodwin's concert in the supperroom
or oakroom of the Mansion house. He and I behind. Sheet of her music blew
out of my hand against the High school railings. Lucky it didn't. Thing
like that spoils the effect of a night for her. Professor Goodwin linking
her in front. Shaky on his pinspoor old sot. His farewell concerts.
Positively last appearance on any stage. May be for months and may be for
never. Remember her laughing at the windher blizzard collar up. Corner
of Harcourt road remember that gust. Brrfoo! Blew up all her skirts and
her boa nearly smothered old Goodwin. She did get flushed in the wind.
Remember when we got home raking up the fire and frying up those pieces
of lap of mutton for her supper with the Chutney sauce she liked. And the
mulled rum. Could see her in the bedroom from the hearth unclamping the
busk of her stays: white.

Swish and soft flop her stays made on the bed. Always warm from
her. Always liked to let her self out. Sitting there after till near two
taking out her hairpins. Milly tucked up in beddyhouse. Happy. Happy.
That was the night ...

--OMr Bloomhow do you do?

--Ohow do you doMrs Breen?

--No use complaining. How is Molly those times? Haven't seen her for ages.

--In the pinkMr Bloom said gaily. Milly has a position down in
Mullingaryou know.

--Go away! Isn't that grand for her?

--Yes. In a photographer's there. Getting on like a house on fire. How are
all your charges?

--All on the baker's listMrs Breen said.

How many has she? No other in sight.

--You're in blackI see. You have no ...


--NoMr Bloom said. I have just come from a funeral.

Going to crop up all dayI foresee. Who's deadwhen and what did
he die of? Turn up like a bad penny.

--Odear meMrs Breen said. I hope it wasn't any near relation.

May as well get her sympathy.

--DignamMr Bloom said. An old friend of mine. He died quite suddenly
poor fellow. Heart troubleI believe. Funeral was this morning.

YOUR FUNERAL'S TOMORROW
WHILE YOU'RE COMING THROUGH THE RYE.
DIDDLEDIDDLE DUMDUM
DIDDLEDIDDLE ...


--Sad to lose the old friendsMrs Breen's womaneyes said melancholily.


Now that's quite enough about that. Just: quietly: husband.


--And your lord and master?


Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. Hasn't lost them anyhow.


--Odon't be talking! she said. He's a caution to rattlesnakes. He's in
there now with his lawbooks finding out the law of libel. He has me
heartscalded. Wait till I show you.


Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly
poured out from Harrison's. The heavy noonreek tickled the top of Mr
Bloom's gullet. Want to make good pastrybutterbest flourDemerara
sugaror they'd taste it with the hot tea. Or is it from her? A barefoot
arab stood over the gratingbreathing in the fumes. Deaden the gnaw of
hunger that way. Pleasure or pain is it? Penny dinner. Knife and fork
chained to the table.


Opening her handbagchipped leather. Hatpin: ought to have a
guard on those things. Stick it in a chap's eye in the tram. Rummaging.
Open. Money. Please take one. Devils if they lose sixpence. Raise Cain.
Husband barging. Where's the ten shillings I gave you on Monday? Are
you feeding your little brother's family? Soiled handkerchief:
medicinebottle. Pastille that was fell. What is she? ...


--There must be a new moon outshe said. He's always bad then. Do you
know what he did last night?


Her hand ceased to rummage. Her eyes fixed themselves on himwide
in alarmyet smiling.


--What? Mr Bloom asked.


Let her speak. Look straight in her eyes. I believe you. Trust me.


--Woke me up in the nightshe said. Dream he hada nightmare.


Indiges.


--Said the ace of spades was walking up the stairs.


--The ace of spades! Mr Bloom said.



She took a folded postcard from her handbag.

--Read thatshe said. He got it this morning.

--What is it? Mr Bloom askedtaking the card. U.P.?

--U.P.: upshe said. Someone taking a rise out of him. It's a great shame
for them whoever he is.

--Indeed it isMr Bloom said.

She took back the cardsighing.

--And now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. He's going to take an
action for ten thousand poundshe says.

She folded the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch.

Same blue serge dress she had two years agothe nap bleaching. Seen
its best days. Wispish hair over her ears. And that dowdy toque: three old
grapes to take the harm out of it. Shabby genteel. She used to be a tasty
dresser. Lines round her mouth. Only a year or so older than Molly.

See the eye that woman gave herpassing. Cruel. The unfair sex.

He looked still at herholding back behind his look his discontent.
Pungent mockturtle oxtail mulligatawny. I'm hungry too. Flakes of pastry
on the gusset of her dress: daub of sugary flour stuck to her cheek.
Rhubarb tart with liberal fillingsrich fruit interior. Josie Powell that
was. In Luke Doyle's long ago. Dolphin's Barnthe charades. U.P.: up.

Change the subject.

--Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy? Mr Bloom asked.

--Mina Purefoy? she said.

Philip Beaufoy I was thinking. Playgoers' Club. Matcham often
thinks of the masterstroke. Did I pull the chain? Yes. The last act.

--Yes.

--I just called to ask on the way in is she over it. She's in the lying-in
hospital in Holles street. Dr Horne got her in. She's three days bad now.

--OMr Bloom said. I'm sorry to hear that.

--YesMrs Breen said. And a houseful of kids at home. It's a very stiff
birththe nurse told me.

---OMr Bloom said.

His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. His tongue clacked in
compassion. Dth! Dth!

--I'm sorry to hear thathe said. Poor thing! Three days! That's terrible
for her.

Mrs Breen nodded.

--She was taken bad on the Tuesday ...

Mr Bloom touched her funnybone gentlywarning her:


--Mind! Let this man pass.


A bony form strode along the curbstone from the river staring with a
rapt gaze into the sunlight through a heavystringed glass. Tight as a
skullpiece a tiny hat gripped his head. From his arm a folded dustcoata
stick and an umbrella dangled to his stride.


--Watch himMr Bloom said. He always walks outside the lampposts. Watch!


--Who is he if it's a fair question? Mrs Breen asked. Is he dotty?


--His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall FarrellMr
Bloom said smiling. Watch!


--He has enough of themshe said. Denis will be like that one of these
days.


She broke off suddenly.


--There he isshe said. I must go after him. Goodbye. Remember me to
Mollywon't you?


--I willMr Bloom said.


He watched her dodge through passers towards the shopfronts. Denis
Breen in skimpy frockcoat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of Harrison's
hugging two heavy tomes to his ribs. Blown in from the bay. Like old
times. He suffered her to overtake him without surprise and thrust his
dull grey beard towards herhis loose jaw wagging as he spoke earnestly.


Meshuggah. Off his chump.


Mr Bloom walked on again easilyseeing ahead of him in sunlight the
tight skullpiecethe dangling stickumbrelladustcoat. Going the two days.
Watch him! Out he goes again. One way of getting on in the world. And
that other old mosey lunatic in those duds. Hard time she must have with
him.


U.P.: up. I'll take my oath that's Alf Bergan or Richie Goulding.
Wrote it for a lark in the Scotch house I bet anything. Round to Menton's
office. His oyster eyes staring at the postcard. Be a feast for the gods.


He passed the IRISH TIMES. There might be other answers Iying there.
Like to answer them all. Good system for criminals. Code. At their lunch
now. Clerk with the glasses there doesn't know me. Oleave them there to
simmer. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them. Wantedsmart
lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work. I called you naughty
darling because I do not like that other world. Please tell me what is the
meaning. Please tell me what perfume does your wife. Tell me who made the
world. The way they spring those questions on you. And the other one
Lizzie Twigg. My literary efforts have had the good fortune to meet with
the approval of the eminent poet A. E. (Mr Geo. Russell). No time to do
her hair drinking sloppy tea with a book of poetry.


Best paper by long chalks for a small ad. Got the provinces now.
Cook and generalexc. cuisinehousemaid kept. Wanted live man for spirit
counter. Resp. girl (R.C.) wishes to hear of post in fruit or pork shop.
James Carlisle made that. Six and a half per cent dividend. Made a big
deal on Coates's shares. Ca' canny. Cunning old Scotch hunks. All the
toady news. Our gracious and popular vicereine. Bought the IRISH FIELD
now. Lady Mountcashel has quite recovered after her confinement and rode
out with the Ward Union staghounds at the enlargement yesterday at
Rathoath. Uneatable fox. Pothunters too. Fear injects juices make it
tender enough for them. Riding astride. Sit her horse like a man.



Weightcarrying huntress. No sidesaddle or pillion for hernot for Joe.
First to the meet and in at the death. Strong as a brood mare some of
those horsey women. Swagger around livery stables. Toss off a glass of
brandy neat while you'd say knife. That one at the Grosvenor this morning.
Up with her on the car: wishswish. Stonewall or fivebarred gate
put her mount to it. Think that pugnosed driver did it out of spite.
Who is this she was like? O yes! Mrs Miriam Dandrade that sold me
her old wraps and black underclothes in the Shelbourne hotel.
Divorced Spanish American. Didn't take a feather out of her
my handling them. As if I was her clotheshorse. Saw her in the
viceregal party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in with Whelan of the
EXPRESS. Scavenging what the quality left. High tea. Mayonnaise I poured
on the plums thinking it was custard. Her ears ought to have tingled for a
few weeks after. Want to be a bull for her. Born courtesan. No nursery
work for herthanks.

Poor Mrs Purefoy! Methodist husband. Method in his madness.
Saffron bun and milk and soda lunch in the educational dairy. Y. M. C. A.
Eating with a stopwatchthirtytwo chews to the minute. And still his
muttonchop whiskers grew. Supposed to be well connected. Theodore's
cousin in Dublin Castle. One tony relative in every family. Hardy annuals
he presents her with. Saw him out at the Three Jolly Topers marching along
bareheaded and his eldest boy carrying one in a marketnet. The squallers.
Poor thing! Then having to give the breast year after year all hours of
the night. Selfish those t.t's are. Dog in the manger. Only one lump of
sugar in my teaif you please.

He stood at Fleet street crossing. Luncheon interval. A sixpenny at
Rowe's? Must look up that ad in the national library. An eightpenny in the
Burton. Better. On my way.

He walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house. Tea. Tea. Tea. I forgot
to tap Tom Kernan.

Sss. Dthdthdth! Three days imagine groaning on a bed with a
vinegared handkerchief round her foreheadher belly swollen out. Phew!
Dreadful simply! Child's head too big: forceps. Doubled up inside her
trying to butt its way out blindlygroping for the way out. Kill me that
would. Lucky Molly got over hers lightly. They ought to invent something
to stop that. Life with hard labour. Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria
was given that. Nine she had. A good layer. Old woman that lived in a shoe
she had so many children. Suppose he was consumptive. Time someone thought
about it instead of gassing about the what was it the pensive bosom of the
silver effulgence. Flapdoodle to feed fools on. They could easily have big
establishments whole thing quite painless out of all the taxes give every
child born five quid at compound interest up to twentyone five per cent is
a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal
system encourage people to put by money save hundred and ten and a bit
twentyone years want to work it out on paper come to a tidy sum more than
you think.

Not stillborn of course. They are not even registered. Trouble for
nothing.

Funny sight two of them togethertheir bellies out. Molly and Mrs
Moisel. Mothers' meeting. Phthisis retires for the time beingthen
returns. How flat they look all of a sudden after. Peaceful eyes.
Weight off their mind. Old Mrs Thornton was a jolly old soul. All
my babiesshe said. The spoon of pap in her mouth before she fed
them. Othat's nyumnyum. Got her hand crushed by old Tom Wall's son.
His first bow to the public. Head like a prize pumpkin. Snuffy Dr Murren.
People knocking them up at all hours. For God' sakedoctor. Wife in
her throes. Then keep them waiting months for their fee. To attendance
on your wife. No gratitude in people. Humane doctorsmost of them.


Before the huge high door of the Irish house of parliament a flock of
pigeons flew. Their little frolic after meals. Who will we do it on? I
pick the fellow in black. Here goes. Here's good luck. Must be thrilling
from the air. Apjohnmyself and Owen Goldberg up in the trees near Goose
green playing the monkeys. Mackerel they called me.

A squad of constables debouched from College streetmarching in
Indian file. Goosestep. Foodheated facessweating helmetspatting their
truncheons. After their feed with a good load of fat soup under their
belts. Policeman's lot is oft a happy one. They split up in groups and
scatteredsalutingtowards their beats. Let out to graze. Best moment to
attack one in pudding time. A punch in his dinner. A squad of others
marching irregularlyrounded Trinity railings making for the station.
Bound for their troughs. Prepare to receive cavalry. Prepare to receive
soup.

He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger. They did right to
put him up over a urinal: meeting of the waters. Ought to be places for
women. Running into cakeshops. Settle my hat straight. THERE IS NOT IN
THIS WIDE WORLD A VALLEE. Great song of Julia Morkan's. Kept her voice up
to the very last. Pupil of Michael Balfe'swasn't she?

He gazed after the last broad tunic. Nasty customers to tackle. Jack
Power could a tale unfold: father a G man. If a fellow gave them trouble
being lagged they let him have it hot and heavy in the bridewell. Can't
blame them after all with the job they have especially the young hornies.
That horsepoliceman the day Joe Chamberlain was given his degree in
Trinity he got a run for his money. My word he did! His horse's hoofs
clattering after us down Abbey street. Lucky I had the presence of mind to
dive into Manning's or I was souped. He did come a wallopby George.
Must have cracked his skull on the cobblestones. I oughtn't to have got
myself swept along with those medicals. And the Trinity jibs in their
mortarboards. Looking for trouble. Still I got to know that young Dixon
who dressed that sting for me in the Mater and now he's in Holles street
where Mrs Purefoy. Wheels within wheels. Police whistle in my ears still.
All skedaddled. Why he fixed on me. Give me in charge. Right here it
began.

--Up the Boers!

--Three cheers for De Wet!

--We'll hang Joe Chamberlain on a sourapple tree.

Silly billies: mob of young cubs yelling their guts out. Vinegar hill.
The Butter exchange band. Few years' time half of them magistrates and
civil servants. War comes on: into the army helterskelter: same fellows
used to. Whether on the scaffold high.

Never know who you're talking to. Corny Kelleher he has Harvey
Duff in his eye. Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the
gaff on the invincibles. Member of the corporation too. Egging raw youths
on to get in the know all the time drawing secret service pay from the
castle. Drop him like a hot potato. Why those plainclothes men are always
courting slaveys. Easily twig a man used to uniform. Squarepushing up
against a backdoor. Maul her a bit. Then the next thing on the menu. And
who is the gentleman does be visiting there? Was the young master saying
anything? Peeping Tom through the keyhole. Decoy duck. Hotblooded young
student fooling round her fat arms ironing.

--Are those yoursMary?

--I don't wear such things ... Stop or I'll tell the missus on you.


Out half the night.

--There are great times comingMary. Wait till you see.

--Ahgelong with your great times coming.

Barmaids too. Tobaccoshopgirls.

James Stephens' idea was the best. He knew them. Circles of ten so
that a fellow couldn't round on more than his own ring. Sinn Fein. Back
out you get the knife. Hidden hand. Stay in. The firing squad. Turnkey's
daughter got him out of Richmondoff from Lusk. Putting up in the
Buckingham Palace hotel under their very noses. Garibaldi.

You must have a certain fascination: Parnell. Arthur Griffith is a
squareheaded fellow but he has no go in him for the mob. Or gas about our
lovely land. Gammon and spinach. Dublin Bakery Company's tearoom.
Debating societies. That republicanism is the best form of government.
That the language question should take precedence of the economic
question. Have your daughters inveigling them to your house. Stuff them
up with meat and drink. Michaelmas goose. Here's a good lump of thyme
seasoning under the apron for you. Have another quart of goosegrease
before it gets too cold. Halffed enthusiasts. Penny roll and a walk with
the band. No grace for the carver. The thought that the other chap pays
best sauce in the world. Make themselves thoroughly at home. Show us over
those apricotsmeaning peaches. The not far distant day. Homerule sun
rising up in the northwest.

His smile faded as he walkeda heavy cloud hiding the sun slowly
shadowing Trinity's surly front. Trams passed one anotheringoing
outgoingclanging. Useless words. Things go on sameday after day:
squads of police marching outback: trams inout. Those two loonies
mooching about. Dignam carted off. Mina Purefoy swollen belly on a bed
groaning to have a child tugged out of her. One born every second
somewhere. Other dying every second. Since I fed the birds five minutes.
Three hundred kicked the bucket. Other three hundred bornwashing the
blood offall are washed in the blood of the lambbawling maaaaaa.

Cityful passing awayother cityful comingpassing away too: other
coming onpassing on. Houseslines of housesstreetsmiles of
pavementspiledup bricksstones. Changing hands. This ownerthat.
Landlord never dies they say. Other steps into his shoes when he gets
his notice to quit. They buy the place up with gold and still they
have all the gold. Swindle in it somewhere. Piled up in citiesworn
away age after age. Pyramids in sand. Built on bread and onions.
Slaves Chinese wall. Babylon. Big stones left. Round towers. Rest rubble
sprawling suburbsjerrybuilt. Kerwan's mushroom houses built of breeze.
Shelterfor the night.

No-one is anything.

This is the very worst hour of the day. Vitality. Dullgloomy: hate
this hour. Feel as if I had been eaten and spewed.

Provost's house. The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Well
tinned in there. Like a mortuary chapel. Wouldn't live in it if they paid
me. Hope they have liver and bacon today. Nature abhors a vacuum.

The sun freed itself slowly and lit glints of light among the silverware
opposite in Walter Sexton's window by which John Howard Parnell passed
unseeing.

There he is: the brother. Image of him. Haunting face. Now that's a
coincidence. Course hundreds of times you think of a person and don't


meet him. Like a man walking in his sleep. No-one knows him. Must be a
corporation meeting today. They say he never put on the city marshal's
uniform since he got the job. Charley Kavanagh used to come out on his
high horsecocked hatpuffedpowdered and shaved. Look at the
woebegone walk of him. Eaten a bad egg. Poached eyes on ghost. I have a
pain. Great man's brother: his brother's brother. He'd look nice on the
city charger. Drop into the D.B.C. probably for his coffeeplay chess
there. His brother used men as pawns. Let them all go to pot. Afraid to
pass a remark on him. Freeze them up with that eye of his. That's the
fascination: the name. All a bit touched. Mad Fanny and his other sister
Mrs Dickinson driving about with scarlet harness. Bolt upright lik

surgeon M'Ardle. Still David Sheehy beat him for south Meath.
Apply for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life. The patriot's
banquet. Eating orangepeels in the park. Simon Dedalus said when they put
him in parliament that Parnell would come back from the grave and lead
him out of the house of commons by the arm.

--Of the twoheaded octopusone of whose heads is the head upon which
the ends of the world have forgotten to come while the other speaks with a
Scotch accent. The tentacles ...


They passed from behind Mr Bloom along the curbstone. Beard and
bicycle. Young woman.


And there he is too. Now that's really a coincidence: second time.
Coming events cast their shadows before. With the approval of the eminent
poetMr Geo. Russell. That might be Lizzie Twigg with him. A. E.: what
does that mean? Initials perhaps. Albert EdwardArthur Edmund
Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire. What was he saying? The ends of the world
with a Scotch accent. Tentacles: octopus. Something occult: symbolism.
Holding forth. She's taking it all in. Not saying a word. To aid gentleman
in literary work.


His eyes followed the high figure in homespunbeard and bicyclea
listening woman at his side. Coming from the vegetarian. Only
weggebobbles and fruit. Don't eat a beefsteak. If you do the eyes of that
cow will pursue you through all eternity. They say it's healthier.
Windandwatery though. Tried it. Keep you on the run all day. Bad as a
bloater. Dreams all night. Why do they call that thing they gave me
nutsteak? Nutarians. Fruitarians. To give you the idea you are eating
rumpsteak. Absurd. Salty too. They cook in soda. Keep you sitting by the
tap all night.


Her stockings are loose over her ankles. I detest that: so tasteless.
Those literary etherial people they are all. Dreamycloudysymbolistic.
Esthetes they are. I wouldn't be surprised if it was that kind of food you
see produces the like waves of the brain the poetical. For example one of
those policemen sweating Irish stew into their shirts you couldn't squeeze
a line of poetry out of him. Don't know what poetry is even. Must be in a
certain mood.


THE DREAMY CLOUDY GULL
WAVES O'ER THE WATERS DULL.


He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the window of
Yeates and Sonpricing the fieldglasses. Or will I drop into old Harris's
and have a chat with young Sinclair? Wellmannered fellow. Probably at his
lunch. Must get those old glasses of mine set right. Goerz lenses six
guineas. Germans making their way everywhere. Sell on easy terms to
capture trade. Undercutting. Might chance on a pair in the railway lost
property office. Astonishing the things people leave behind them in trains
and cloakrooms. What do they be thinking about? Women too. Incredible.


Last year travelling to Ennis had to pick up that farmer's daughter's ba
and hand it to her at Limerick junction. Unclaimed money too. There's a
little watch up there on the roof of the bank to test those glasses by.

His lids came down on the lower rims of his irides. Can't see it. If you
imagine it's there you can almost see it. Can't see it.

He faced about andstanding between the awningsheld out his right
hand at arm's length towards the sun. Wanted to try that often. Yes:
completely. The tip of his little finger blotted out the sun's disk. Must
be the focus where the rays cross. If I had black glasses. Interesting.
There was a lot of talk about those sunspots when we were in Lombard
street west. Looking up from the back garden. Terrific explosions they
are. There will be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time.

Now that I come to think of it that ball falls at Greenwich time. It's
the clock is worked by an electric wire from Dunsink. Must go out there
some first Saturday of the month. If I could get an introduction to
professor Joly or learn up something about his family. That would do to:
man always feels complimented. Flattery where least expected. Nobleman
proud to be descended from some king's mistress. His foremother. Lay it on
with a trowel. Cap in hand goes through the land. Not go in and blurt out
what you know you're not to: what's parallax? Show this gentleman the
door.

Ah.

His hand fell to his side again.

Never know anything about it. Waste of time. Gasballs spinning
aboutcrossing each otherpassing. Same old dingdong always. Gas: then
solid: then world: then cold: then dead shell drifting aroundfrozen
rocklike that pineapple rock. The moon. Must be a new moon outshe
said. I believe there is.

He went on by la maison Claire.

Wait. The full moon was the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly
there is a new moon. Walking down by the Tolka. Not bad for a Fairview
moon. She was humming. The young May moon she's beaminglove. He
other side of her. Elbowarm. He. Glowworm's la-amp is gleaminglove.
Touch. Fingers. Asking. Answer. Yes.

Stop. Stop. If it was it was. Must.

Mr Bloomquickbreathingslowlier walking passed Adam court.

With a keep quiet relief his eyes took note this is the street here
middle of the day of Bob Doran's bottle shoulders. On his annual bend
M Coy said. They drink in order to say or do something or CHERCHEZ LA
FEMME. Up in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then the
rest of the year sober as a judge.

Yes. Thought so. Sloping into the Empire. Gone. Plain soda would do
him good. Where Pat Kinsella had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran
the Queen's. Broth of a boy. Dion Boucicault business with his
harvestmoon face in a poky bonnet. Three Purty Maids from School. How
time flieseh? Showing long red pantaloons under his skirts. Drinkers
drinkinglaughed splutteringtheir drink against their breath. More
powerPat. Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke. Take off that
white hat. His parboiled eyes. Where is he now? Beggar somewhere. The harp
that once did starve us all.

I was happier then. Or was that I? Or am I now I? Twentyeight I was.


She twentythree. When we left Lombard street west something changed.
Could never like it again after Rudy. Can't bring back time. Like holding
water in your hand. Would you go back to then? Just beginning then.
Would you? Are you not happy in your home you poor little naughty boy?
Wants to sew on buttons for me. I must answer. Write it in the library.


Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses. Muslin
printssilkdames and dowagersjingle of harnesseshoofthuds lowringing
in the baking causeway. Thick feet that woman has in the white stockings.
Hope the rain mucks them up on her. Countrybred chawbacon. All the beef
to the heels were in. Always gives a woman clumsy feet. Molly looks out of
plumb.


He passeddallyingthe windows of Brown Thomassilk mercers.
Cascades of ribbons. Flimsy China silks. A tilted urn poured from its
mouth a flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood. The huguenots brought
that here. LA CAUSA E SANTA! Tara Tara. Great chorus that. Taree tara.
Must be washed in rainwater. Meyerbeer. Tara: bom bom bom.


Pincushions. I'm a long time threatening to buy one. Sticking them all
over the place. Needles in window curtains.


He bared slightly his left forearm. Scrape: nearly gone. Not today
anyhow. Must go back for that lotion. For her birthday perhaps.
Junejulyaugseptember eighth. Nearly three months off. Then she mightn't
like it. Women won't pick up pins. Say it cuts lo.


Gleaming silkspetticoats on slim brass railsrays of flat silk
stockings.


Useless to go back. Had to be. Tell me all.


High voices. Sunwarm silk. Jingling harnesses. All for a woman
home and housessilkwebssilverrich fruits spicy from Jaffa. Agendath
Netaim. Wealth of the world.


A warm human plumpness settled down on his brain. His brain
yielded. Perfume of embraces all him assailed. With hungered flesh
obscurelyhe mutely craved to adore.


Duke street. Here we are. Must eat. The Burton. Feel better then.


He turned Combridge's cornerstill pursued. Jinglinghoofthuds.
Perfumed bodieswarmfull. All kissedyielded: in deep summer fields
tangled pressed grassin trickling hallways of tenementsalong sofas
creaking beds.


--Jacklove!


--Darling!


--Kiss meReggy!


--My boy!


--Love!


His heart astir he pushed in the door of the Burton restaurant. Stink
gripped his trembling breath: pungent meatjuiceslush of greens. See the
animals feed.


Menmenmen.


Perched on high stools by the barhats shoved backat the tables



calling for more bread no chargeswillingwolfing gobfuls of sloppy
foodtheir eyes bulgingwiping wetted moustaches. A pallid suetfaced
young man polished his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his napkin. New
set of microbes. A man with an infant's saucestained napkin tucked round
him shovelled gurgling soup down his gullet. A man spitting back on his
plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no teeth to chewchewchew it. Chump
chop from the grill. Bolting to get it over. Sad booser's eyes. Bitten off
more than he can chew. Am I like that? See ourselves as others see us.
Hungry man is an angry man. Working tooth and jaw. Don't! O! A bone! That
last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the schoolpoem choked himself at
Sletty southward of the Boyne. Wonder what he was eating. Something
galoptious. Saint Patrick converted him to Christianity. Couldn't swallow
it all however.

--Roast beef and cabbage.

--One stew.

Smells of men. His gorge rose. Spaton sawdustsweetish warmish
cigarette smokereek of plugspilt beermen's beery pissthe stale of
ferment.

Couldn't eat a morsel here. Fellow sharpening knife and fork to eat
all before himold chap picking his tootles. Slight spasmfullchewing
the cud. Before and after. Grace after meals. Look on this picture then on
that. Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread. Lick it off the
plateman! Get out of this.

He gazed round the stooled and tabled eaterstightening the wings of
his nose.

--Two stouts here.

--One corned and cabbage.

That fellow ramming a knifeful of cabbage down as if his life
depended on it. Good stroke. Give me the fidgets to look. Safer to eat
from his three hands. Tear it limb from limb. Second nature to him. Born
with a silver knife in his mouth. That's wittyI think. Or no. Silver
means born rich. Born with a knife. But then the allusion is lost.

An illgirt server gathered sticky clattering plates. Rockthe head
bailiffstanding at the bar blew the foamy crown from his tankard. Well
up: it splashed yellow near his boot. A dinerknife and fork upright
elbows on tableready for a second helping stared towards the foodlift
across his stained square of newspaper. Other chap telling him something
with his mouth full. Sympathetic listener. Table talk. I munched hum un
thu Unchster Bunk un Munchday. Ha? Did youfaith?

Mr Bloom raised two fingers doubtfully to his lips. His eyes said:

--Not here. Don't see him.

Out. I hate dirty eaters.

He backed towards the door. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's. Stopgap.
Keep me going. Had a good breakfast.

--Roast and mashed here.

--Pint of stout.

Every fellow for his owntooth and nail. Gulp. Grub. Gulp. Gobstuff.


He came out into clearer air and turned back towards Grafton street.
Eat or be eaten. Kill! Kill!

Suppose that communal kitchen years to come perhaps. All trotting
down with porringers and tommycans to be filled. Devour contents in the
street. John Howard Parnell example the provost of Trinity every mother's
son don't talk of your provosts and provost of Trinity women and children
cabmen priests parsons fieldmarshals archbishops. From Ailesbury road
Clyde roadartisans' dwellingsnorth Dublin unionlord mayor in his
gingerbread coachold queen in a bathchair. My plate's empty. After you
with our incorporated drinkingcup. Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain.
Rub off the microbes with your handkerchief. Next chap rubs on a new
batch with his. Father O'Flynn would make hares of them all. Have rows
all the same. All for number one. Children fighting for the scrapings of
the pot. Want a souppot as big as the Phoenix park. Harpooning flitches
and hindquarters out of it. Hate people all round you. City Arms hotel
TABLE D'HOTE she called it. Soupjoint and sweet. Never know whose
thoughts you're chewing. Then who'd wash up all the plates and forks?
Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. Teeth getting worse and worse.

After all there's a lot in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from the
earth garlic of course it stinks after Italian organgrinders crisp of
onions mushrooms truffles. Pain to the animal too. Pluck and draw fowl.
Wretched brutes there at the cattlemarket waiting for the poleaxe to split
their skulls open. Moo. Poor trembling calves. Meh. Staggering bob. Bubble
and squeak. Butchers' buckets wobbly lights. Give us that brisket off the
hook. Plup. Rawhead and bloody bones. Flayed glasseyed sheep hung from
their haunchessheepsnouts bloodypapered snivelling nosejam on sawdust.
Top and lashers going out. Don't maul them piecesyoung one.

Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. Blood always needed.
Insidious. Lick it up smokinghotthick sugary. Famished ghosts.

AhI'm hungry.

He entered Davy Byrne's. Moral pub. He doesn't chat. Stands a
drink now and then. But in leapyear once in four. Cashed a cheque for me
once.

What will I take now? He drew his watch. Let me see now. Shandygaff?

--HelloBloomNosey Flynn said from his nook.

--HelloFlynn.

--How's things?

--Tiptop ... Let me see. I'll take a glass of burgundy and ... let
me see.

Sardines on the shelves. Almost taste them by looking. Sandwich?
Ham and his descendants musterred and bred there. Potted meats. What is
home without Plumtree's potted meat? Incomplete. What a stupid ad!
Under the obituary notices they stuck it. All up a plumtree. Dignam's
potted meat. Cannibals would with lemon and rice. White missionary too
salty. Like pickled pork. Expect the chief consumes the parts of honour.
Ought to be tough from exercise. His wives in a row to watch the effect.
THERE WAS A RIGHT ROYAL OLD NIGGER. WHO ATE OR SOMETHING THE SOMETHINGS OF
THE REVEREND MR MACTRIGGER. With it an abode of bliss. Lord knows what
concoction. Cauls mouldy tripes windpipes faked and minced up. Puzzle
find the meat. Kosher. No meat and milk together. Hygiene that was what
they call now. Yom Kippur fast spring cleaning of inside. Peace and war
depend on some fellow's digestion. Religions. Christmas turkeys and geese.
Slaughter of innocents. Eat drink and be merry. Then casual wards full


after. Heads bandaged. Cheese digests all but itself. Mity cheese.

--Have you a cheese sandwich?

--Yessir.

Like a few olives too if they had them. Italian I prefer. Good glass of
burgundy take away that. Lubricate. A nice saladcool as a cucumberTom
Kernan can dress. Puts gusto into it. Pure olive oil. Milly served me that
cutlet with a sprig of parsley. Take one Spanish onion. God made foodthe
devil the cooks. Devilled crab.


--Wife well?


--Quite wellthanks ... A cheese sandwichthen. Gorgonzolahave you?


--Yessir.


Nosey Flynn sipped his grog.


--Doing any singing those times?


Look at his mouth. Could whistle in his own ear. Flap ears to match.
Music. Knows as much about it as my coachman. Still better tell him. Does
no harm. Free ad.


--She's engaged for a big tour end of this month. You may have heard
perhaps.


--No. Othat's the style. Who's getting it up?


The curate served.


--How much is that?


--Seven d.sir ... Thank yousir.


Mr Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips. MR MACTRIGGER. Easier
than the dreamy creamy stuff. HIS FIVE HUNDRED WIVES. HAD THE TIME OF
THEIR LIVES.


--Mustardsir?


--Thank you.


He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs. THEIR LIVES. I have it.
IT GREW BIGGER AND BIGGER AND BIGGER.


--Getting it up? he said. Wellit's like a company ideayou see. Part
shares and part profits.


--Aynow I rememberNosey Flynn saidputting his hand in his pocket to
scratch his groin. Who is this was telling me? Isn't Blazes Boylan mixed
up in it?


A warm shock of air heat of mustard hanched on Mr Bloom's heart.
He raised his eyes and met the stare of a bilious clock. Two. Pub clock
five minutes fast. Time going on. Hands moving. Two. Not yet.


His midriff yearned then upwardsank within himyearned more longly
longingly.


Wine.



He smellsipped the cordial juice andbidding his throat strongly to
speed itset his wineglass delicately down.


--Yeshe said. He's the organiser in point of fact.


No fear: no brains.


Nosey Flynn snuffled and scratched. Flea having a good square meal.


--He had a good slice of luckJack Mooney was telling meover that
boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the Portobello
barracks. By Godhe had the little kipper down in the county Carlow he
was telling me ...


Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into his glass. Nosnuffled it
up.


--For near a monthmanbefore it came off. Sucking duck eggs by God till
further orders. Keep him off the boosesee? Oby GodBlazes is a hairy
chap.


Davy Byrne came forward from the hindbar in tuckstitched
shirtsleevescleaning his lips with two wipes of his napkin. Herring's
blush. Whose smile upon each feature plays with such and such replete.
Too much fat on the parsnips.


--And here's himself and pepper on himNosey Flynn said. Can you give
us a good one for the Gold cup?


--I'm off thatMr FlynnDavy Byrne answered. I never put anything on a
horse.


--You're right thereNosey Flynn said.


Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwichfresh clean breadwith relish of
disgust pungent mustardthe feety savour of green cheese. Sips of his
wine soothed his palate. Not logwood that. Tastes fuller this weather with
the chill off.


Nice quiet bar. Nice piece of wood in that counter. Nicely planed.
Like the way it curves there.


--I wouldn't do anything at all in that lineDavy Byrne said. It ruined
many a manthe same horses.


Vintners' sweepstake. Licensed for the sale of beerwine and spirits
for consumption on the premises. Heads I win tails you lose.


--True for youNosey Flynn said. Unless you're in the know. There's no
straight sport going now. Lenehan gets some good ones. He's giving
Sceptre today. Zinfandel's the favouritelord Howard de Walden'swon at
Epsom. Morny Cannon is riding him. I could have got seven to one against
Saint Amant a fortnight before.


--That so? Davy Byrne said ...


He went towards the window andtaking up the pettycash bookscanned
its pages.


--I couldfaithNosey Flynn saidsnuffling. That was a rare bit of
horseflesh. Saint Frusquin was her sire. She won in a thunderstorm
Rothschild's fillywith wadding in her ears. Blue jacket and yellow cap.
Bad luck to big Ben Dollard and his John O'Gaunt. He put me off it. Ay.



He drank resignedly from his tumblerrunning his fingers down the flutes.

--Ayhe saidsighing.

Mr Bloomchampingstandinglooked upon his sigh. Nosey
numbskull. Will I tell him that horse Lenehan? He knows already. Better
let him forget. Go and lose more. Fool and his money. Dewdrop coming down
again. Cold nose he'd have kissing a woman. Still they might like. Prickly
beards they like. Dogs' cold noses. Old Mrs Riordan with the rumbling
stomach's Skye terrier in the City Arms hotel. Molly fondling him in her
lap. Othe big doggybowwowsywowsy!

Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread mustard a moment
mawkish cheese. Nice wine it is. Taste it better because I'm not thirsty.
Bath of course does that. Just a bite or two. Then about six o'clock I can.
Six. Six. Time will be gone then. She ...

Mild fire of wine kindled his veins. I wanted that badly. Felt so off
colour. His eyes unhungrily saw shelves of tins: sardinesgaudy lobsters'
claws. All the odd things people pick up for food. Out of shellsperiwinkles
with a pinoff treessnails out of the ground the French eatout of the sea
with bait on a hook. Silly fish learn nothing in a thousand years. If you
didn't know risky putting anything into your mouth. Poisonous berries.
Johnny Magories. Roundness you think good. Gaudy colour warns you
off. One fellow told another and so on. Try it on the dog first. Led on by the
smell or the look. Tempting fruit. Ice cones. Cream. Instinct. Orangegroves
for instance. Need artificial irrigation. Bleibtreustrasse. Yes but what about
oysters. Unsightly like a clot of phlegm. Filthy shells. Devil to open them
too. Who found them out? Garbagesewage they feed on. Fizz and Red
bank oysters. Effect on the sexual. Aphrodis. He was in the Red Bank this
morning. Was he oysters old fish at table perhaps he young flesh in bed no
June has no ar no oysters. But there are people like things high. Tainted
game. Jugged hare. First catch your hare. Chinese eating eggs fifty years
oldblue and green again. Dinner of thirty courses. Each dish harmless
might mix inside. Idea for a poison mystery. That archduke Leopold was it
no yes or was it Otto one of those Habsburgs? Or who was it used to eat
the scruff off his own head? Cheapest lunch in town. Of course aristocrats
then the others copy to be in the fashion. Milly too rock oil and flour. Raw
pastry I like myself. Half the catch of oysters they throw back in the sea to
keep up the price. Cheap no-one would buy. Caviare. Do the grand. Hock
in green glasses. Swell blowout. Lady this. Powdered bosom pearls. The
ELITE. CREME DE LA CREME. They want special dishes to pretend they're.
Hermit with a platter of pulse keep down the stings of the flesh. Know me
come eat with me. Royal sturgeon high sheriffCoffeythe butcherright to
venisons of the forest from his ex. Send him back the half of a cow. Spread
I saw down in the Master of the Rolls' kitchen area. Whitehatted CHEF like a
rabbi. Combustible duck. Curly cabbage A LA DUCHESSE DE PARME. Just as
well to write it on the bill of fare so you can know what you've eaten. Too
many drugs spoil the broth. I know it myself. Dosing it with Edwards'
desiccated soup. Geese stuffed silly for them. Lobsters boiled alive. Do
ptake some ptarmigan. Wouldn't mind being a waiter in a swell hotel. Tips
evening dresshalfnaked ladies. May I tempt you to a little more filleted
lemon solemiss Dubedat? Yesdo bedad. And she did bedad. Huguenot
name I expect that. A miss Dubedat lived in KillineyI remember.
DUDE LA French. Still it's the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of
Moore street ripped the guts out of making money hand over fist finger in
fishes' gills can't write his name on a cheque think he was painting the
landscape with his mouth twisted. Moooikill A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a kish
of broguesworth fifty thousand pounds.

Stuck on the pane two flies buzzedstuck.

Glowing wine on his palate lingered swallowed. Crushing in the
winepress grapes of Burgundy. Sun's heat it is. Seems to a secret touch


telling me memory. Touched his sense moistened remembered. Hidden
under wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. No sound. The sky.
The bay purple by the Lion's head. Green by Drumleck. Yellowgreen
towards Sutton. Fields of underseathe lines faint brown in grassburied
cities. Pillowed on my coat she had her hairearwigs in the heather scrub
my hand under her napeyou'll toss me all. O wonder! Coolsoft with
ointments her hand touched mecaressed: her eyes upon me did not turn
away. Ravished over her I layfull lips full openkissed her mouth. Yum.
Softly she gave me in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. Mawkish
pulp her mouth had mumbled sweetsour of her spittle. Joy: I ate it: joy.
Young lifeher lips that gave me pouting. Soft warm sticky gumjelly lips.
Flowers her eyes weretake mewilling eyes. Pebbles fell. She lay still. A
goat. No-one. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a nannygoat walking
surefooteddropping currants. Screened under ferns she laughed
warmfolded. Wildly I lay on herkissed her: eyesher lipsher stretched
neck beatingwoman's breasts full in her blouse of nun's veilingfat nipples
upright. Hot I tongued her. She kissed me. I was kissed. All yielding she
tossed my hair. Kissedshe kissed me.


Me. And me now.


Stuckthe flies buzzed.


His downcast eyes followed the silent veining of the oaken slab.
Beauty: it curves: curves are beauty. Shapely goddessesVenusJuno:
curves the world admires. Can see them library museum standing in the
round hallnaked goddesses. Aids to digestion. They don't care what man
looks. All to see. Never speaking. I mean to say to fellows like Flynn.
Suppose she did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first? Mortal!
Put you in your proper place. Quaffing nectar at mess with gods golden
dishesall ambrosial. Not like a tanner lunch we haveboiled mutton
carrots and turnipsbottle of Allsop. Nectar imagine it drinking electricity:
gods' food. Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian. Immortal lovely.
And we stuffing food in one hole and out behind: foodchyleblooddung
earthfood: have to feed it like stoking an engine. They have no. Never
looked. I'll look today. Keeper won't see. Bend down let something drop
see if she.


Dribbling a quiet message from his bladder came to go to do not to do
there to do. A man and ready he drained his glass to the lees and walkedto
men too they gave themselvesmanly consciouslay with men loversa
youth enjoyed herto the yard.


When the sound of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne said from his book:


--What is this he is? Isn't he in the insurance line?


--He's out of that long agoNosey Flynn said. He does canvassing for the
FREEMAN.


--I know him well to seeDavy Byrne said. Is he in trouble?


--Trouble? Nosey Flynn said. Not that I heard of. Why?


--I noticed he was in mourning.


--Was he? Nosey Flynn said. So he wasfaith. I asked him how was all at
home. You're rightby God. So he was.


--I never broach the subjectDavy Byrne said humanelyif I see a
gentleman is in trouble that way. It only brings it up fresh in their minds.


--It's not the wife anyhowNosey Flynn said. I met him the day before
yesterday and he coming out of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's



wife has in Henry street with a jar of cream in his hand taking it home to
his better half. She's well nourishedI tell you. Plovers on toast.

--And is he doing for the FREEMAN? Davy Byrne said.

Nosey Flynn pursed his lips.

---He doesn't buy cream on the ads he picks up. You can make bacon of
that.

--How so? Davy Byrne askedcoming from his book.

Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the air with juggling fingers. He
winked.

--He's in the crafthe said.

---Do you tell me so? Davy Byrne said.

--Very much soNosey Flynn said. Ancient free and accepted order. He's
an excellent brother. Lightlife and loveby God. They give him a leg up. I
was told that by a--wellI won't say who.

--Is that a fact?

--Oit's a fine orderNosey Flynn said. They stick to you when you're
down. I know a fellow was trying to get into it. But they're as close as damn
it. By God they did right to keep the women out of it.

Davy Byrne smiledyawnednodded all in one:

--Iiiiiichaaaaaaach!

--There was one womanNosey Flynn saidhid herself in a clock to find
out what they do be doing. But be damned but they smelt her out and swore
her in on the spot a master mason. That was one of the saint Legers of
Doneraile.

Davy Byrnesated after his yawnsaid with tearwashed eyes:

--And is that a fact? Decent quiet man he is. I often saw him in here and I
never once saw him--you knowover the line.

--God Almighty couldn't make him drunkNosey Flynn said firmly. Slips
off when the fun gets too hot. Didn't you see him look at his watch? Ah
you weren't there. If you ask him to have a drink first thing he does he outs
with the watch to see what he ought to imbibe. Declare to God he does.

--There are some like thatDavy Byrne said. He's a safe manI'd say.

--He's not too badNosey Flynn saidsnuffling it up. He's been known to
put his hand down too to help a fellow. Give the devil his due. OBloom has
his good points. But there's one thing he'll never do.

His hand scrawled a dry pen signature beside his grog.

--I knowDavy Byrne said.

--Nothing in black and whiteNosey Flynn said.

Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons came in. Tom Rochford followed frowning
a plaining hand on his claret waistcoat.

--DayMr Byrne.


--Daygentlemen.
They paused at the counter.


--Who's standing? Paddy Leonard asked.
--I'm sitting anyhowNosey Flynn answered.


--Wellwhat'll it be? Paddy Leonard asked.
--I'll take a stone gingerBantam Lyons said.


--How much? Paddy Leonard cried. Since whenfor God' sake? What's
yoursTom?

--How is the main drainage? Nosey Flynn askedsipping.
For answer Tom Rochford pressed his hand to his breastbone and hiccupped.


--Would I trouble you for a glass of fresh waterMr Byrne? he said.
--Certainlysir.


Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates.


--Lord love a duckhe said. Look at what I'm standing drinks to! Cold
water and gingerpop! Two fellows that would suck whisky off a sore leg.
He has some bloody horse up his sleeve for the Gold cup. A dead snip.

--Zinfandel is it? Nosey Flynn asked.

Tom Rochford spilt powder from a twisted paper into the water set
before him.

--That cursed dyspepsiahe said before drinking.

--Breadsoda is very goodDavy Byrne said.
Tom Rochford nodded and drank.

--Is it Zinfandel?

--Say nothing! Bantam Lyons winked. I'm going to plunge five bob on my
own.

--Tell us if you're worth your salt and be damned to youPaddy Leonard
said. Who gave it to you?

Mr Bloom on his way out raised three fingers in greeting.
--So long! Nosey Flynn said.


The others turned.
--That's the man now that gave it to meBantam Lyons whispered.


--Prrwht! Paddy Leonard said with scorn. Mr Byrnesirwe'll take two of
your small Jamesons after that and a ...

--Stone gingerDavy Byrne added civilly.
--AyPaddy Leonard said. A suckingbottle for the baby.



Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson streethis tongue brushing his
teeth smooth. Something green it would have to be: spinachsay. Then with
those Rontgen rays searchlight you could.

At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a sick knuckly cud on the
cobblestones and lapped it with new zest. Surfeit. Returned with thanks
having fully digested the contents. First sweet then savoury. Mr Bloom
coasted warily. Ruminants. His second course. Their upper jaw they move.
Wonder if Tom Rochford will do anything with that invention of his?
Wasting time explaining it to Flynn's mouth. Lean people long mouths.
Ought to be a hall or a place where inventors could go in and invent free.
Course then you'd have all the cranks pestering.

He hummedprolonging in solemn echo the closes of the bars:

DON GIOVANNIA CENAR TECO

M'INVITASTI.

Feel better. Burgundy. Good pick me up. Who distilled first? Some
chap in the blues. Dutch courage. That KILKENNY PEOPLE in the national
library now I must.

Bare clean closestools waiting in the window of William Miller
plumberturned back his thoughts. They could: and watch it all the way
downswallow a pin sometimes come out of the ribs years aftertour round
the body changing biliary duct spleen squirting liver gastric juice coils of
intestines like pipes. But the poor buffer would have to stand all the time
with his insides entrails on show. Science.

--A CENAR TECO.

What does that TECO mean? Tonight perhaps.

DON GIOVANNITHOU HAST ME INVITED

TO COME TO SUPPER TONIGHT

THE RUM THE RUMDUM.

Doesn't go properly.

Keyes: two months if I get Nannetti to. That'll be two pounds ten
about two pounds eight. Three Hynes owes me. Two eleven. Prescott's
dyeworks van over there. If I get Billy Prescott's ad: two fifteen. Five
guineas about. On the pig's back.

Could buy one of those silk petticoats for Mollycolour of her new
garters.

Today. Today. Not think.

Tour the south then. What about English wateringplaces? Brighton
Margate. Piers by moonlight. Her voice floating out. Those lovely seaside
girls. Against John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought
gnawing a crusted knuckle. Handy man wants job. Small wages. Will eat
anything.

Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of unbought tarts
and passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. WHY I LEFT THE
CHURCH OF ROME? BIRDS' NEST. Women run him. They say they used to give
pauper children soup to change to protestants in the time of the potato
blight. Society over the way papa went to for the conversion of poor jews.


Same bait. Why we left the church of Rome.

A blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone with his slender cane.
No tram in sight. Wants to cross.

--Do you want to cross? Mr Bloom asked.

The blind stripling did not answer. His wallface frowned weakly. He
moved his head uncertainly.

--You're in Dawson streetMr Bloom said. Molesworth street is opposite.
Do you want to cross? There's nothing in the way.

The cane moved out trembling to the left. Mr Bloom's eye followed its
line and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's. Where I
saw his brillantined hair just when I was. Horse drooping. Driver in John
Long's. Slaking his drouth.

--There's a van thereMr Bloom saidbut it's not moving. I'll see you
across. Do you want to go to Molesworth street?

--Yesthe stripling answered. South Frederick street.

--ComeMr Bloom said.

He touched the thin elbow gently: then took the limp seeing hand to
guide it forward.

Say something to him. Better not do the condescending. They mistrust
what you tell them. Pass a common remark.

--The rain kept off.

No answer.

Stains on his coat. Slobbers his foodI suppose. Tastes all different for
him. Have to be spoonfed first. Like a child's handhis hand. Like Milly's
was. Sensitive. Sizing me up I daresay from my hand. Wonder if he has a
name. Van. Keep his cane clear of the horse's legs: tired drudge get his
doze. That's right. Clear. Behind a bull: in front of a horse.

--Thankssir.

Knows I'm a man. Voice.

--Right now? First turn to the left.

The blind stripling tapped the curbstone and went on his waydrawing
his cane backfeeling again.

Mr Bloom walked behind the eyeless feeta flatcut suit of herringbone
tweed. Poor young fellow! How on earth did he know that van was there?
Must have felt it. See things in their forehead perhaps: kind of sense of
volume. Weight or size of itsomething blacker than the dark. Wonder
would he feel it if something was removed. Feel a gap. Queer idea of
Dublin he must havetapping his way round by the stones. Could he walk
in a beeline if he hadn't that cane? Bloodless pious face like a fellow
going in to be a priest.

Penrose! That was that chap's name.

Look at all the things they can learn to do. Read with their fingers.
Tune pianos. Or we are surprised they have any brains. Why we think a
deformed person or a hunchback clever if he says something we might say.


Of course the other senses are more. Embroider. Plait baskets. People
ought to help. Workbasket I could buy for Molly's birthday. Hates sewing.
Might take an objection. Dark men they call them.


Sense of smell must be stronger too. Smells on all sidesbunched
together. Each street different smell. Each person too. Then the springthe
summer: smells. Tastes? They say you can't taste wines with your eyes shut
or a cold in the head. Also smoke in the dark they say get no pleasure.


And with a womanfor instance. More shameless not seeing. That girl
passing the Stewart institutionhead in the air. Look at me. I have them all
on. Must be strange not to see her. Kind of a form in his mind's eye. The
voicetemperatures: when he touches her with his fingers must almost see
the linesthe curves. His hands on her hairfor instance. Say it was black
for instance. Good. We call it black. Then passing over her white skin.
Different feel perhaps. Feeling of white.


Postoffice. Must answer. Fag today. Send her a postal order two
shillingshalf a crown. Accept my little present. Stationer's just here too.
Wait. Think over it.


With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above
his ears. Again. Fibres of fine fine straw. Then gently his finger felt the
skin of his right cheek. Downy hair there too. Not smooth enough. The belly is
the smoothest. No-one about. There he goes into Frederick street. Perhaps
to Levenston's dancing academy piano. Might be settling my braces.


Walking by Doran's publichouse he slid his hand between his
waistcoat and trousers andpulling aside his shirt gentlyfelt a slack
fold of his belly. But I know it's whitey yellow. Want to try in the dark
to see.


He withdrew his hand and pulled his dress to.


Poor fellow! Quite a boy. Terrible. Really terrible. What dreams
would he havenot seeing? Life a dream for him. Where is the justice being
born that way? All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned
and drowned in New York. Holocaust. Karma they call that transmigration
for sins you did in a past life the reincarnation met him pike hoses.
Deardeardear. Pityof course: but somehow you can't cotton on to
them someway.


Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the freemasons' hall. Solemn as
Troy. After his good lunch in Earlsfort terrace. Old legal cronies
cracking a magnum. Tales of the bench and assizes and annals of the
bluecoat school. I sentenced him to ten years. I suppose he'd turn up
his nose at that stuff I drank. Vintage wine for themthe year
marked on a dusty bottle. Has his own ideas of justice in the recorder's
court. Wellmeaning old man. Police chargesheets crammed with cases
get their percentage manufacturing crime. Sends them to the rightabout.
The devil on moneylenders. Gave Reuben J. a great strawcalling. Now he's
really what they call a dirty jew. Power those judges have. Crusty
old topers in wigs. Bear with a sore paw. And may the Lord have mercy
on your soul.


Helloplacard. Mirus bazaar. His Excellency the lord lieutenant.
Sixteenth. Today it is. In aid of funds for Mercer's hospital. THE MESSIAH
was first given for that. Yes. Handel. What about going out there:
Ballsbridge. Drop in on Keyes. No use sticking to him like a leech. Wear
out my welcome. Sure to know someone on the gate.


Mr Bloom came to Kildare street. First I must. Library.


Straw hat in sunlight. Tan shoes. Turnedup trousers. It is. It is.



His heart quopped softly. To the right. Museum. Goddesses. He swerved
to the right.

Is it? Almost certain. Won't look. Wine in my face. Why did I? Too heady.
Yesit is. The walk. Not see. Get on.

Making for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes.
Handsome building. Sir Thomas Deane designed. Not following me?

Didn't see me perhaps. Light in his eyes.

The flutter of his breath came forth in short sighs. Quick. Cold
statues: quiet there. Safe in a minute.

No. Didn't see me. After two. Just at the gate.

My heart!

His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of stone. Sir
Thomas Deane was the Greek architecture.

Look for something I.

His hasty hand went quick into a pockettook outread unfolded
Agendath Netaim. Where did I?

Busy looking.

He thrust back quick Agendath.

Afternoon she said.

I am looking for that. Yesthat. Try all pockets. Handker. FREEMAN.
Where did I? Ahyes. Trousers. Potato. Purse. Where?

Hurry. Walk quietly. Moment more. My heart.

His hand looking for the where did I put found in his hip pocket soap
lotion have to call tepid paper stuck. Ah soap there I yes. Gate.

Safe!

* * * * * * *

Urbaneto comfort themthe quaker librarian purred:

--And we havehave we notthose priceless pages of WILHELM MEISTER. A
great poet on a great brother poet. A hesitating soul taking arms against a
sea of troublestorn by conflicting doubtsas one sees in real life.

He came a step a sinkapace forward on neatsleather creaking and a
step backward a sinkapace on the solemn floor.

A noiseless attendant setting open the door but slightly made him a
noiseless beck.

--Directlysaid hecreaking to goalbeit lingering. The beautiful
ineffectual dreamer who comes to grief against hard facts. One always feels
that Goethe's judgments are so true. True in the larger analysis.

Twicreakingly analysis he corantoed off. Baldmost zealous by the


door he gave his large ear all to the attendant's words: heard them: and was
gone.

Two left.

--Monsieur de la PaliceStephen sneeredwas alive fifteen minutes before
his death.

--Have you found those six brave medicalsJohn Eglinton asked with
elder's gallto write PARADISE LOST at your dictation? THE SORROWS
OF SATAN he calls it.

Smile. Smile Cranly's smile.

FIRST HE TICKLED HER
THEN HE PATTED HER
THEN HE PASSED THE FEMALE CATHETER.
FOR HE WAS A MEDICAL
JOLLY OLD MEDI ...


--I feel you would need one more for HAMLET. Seven is dear to the mystic
mind. The shining seven W.B. calls them.

Glittereyed his rufous skull close to his greencapped desklamp sought
the face bearded amid darkgreener shadowan ollavholyeyed. He laughed
low: a sizar's laugh of Trinity: unanswered.

ORCHESTRAL SATANWEEPING MANY A ROOD

TEARS SUCH AS ANGELS WEEP.

ED EGLI AVEA DEL CUL FATTO TROMBETTA.

He holds my follies hostage.

Cranly's eleven true Wicklowmen to free their sireland. Gaptoothed
Kathleenher four beautiful green fieldsthe stranger in her house. And one
more to hail him: AVERABBI: the Tinahely twelve. In the shadow of the glen
he cooees for them. My soul's youth I gave himnight by night. God speed.
Good hunting.

Mulligan has my telegram.

Folly. Persist.

--Our young Irish bardsJohn Eglinton censuredhave yet to create a
figure which the world will set beside Saxon Shakespeare's Hamlet though
I admire himas old Ben didon this side idolatry.

--All these questions are purely academicRussell oracled out of his
shadow. I meanwhether Hamlet is Shakespeare or James I or Essex.
Clergymen's discussions of the historicity of Jesus. Art has to reveal to us
ideasformless spiritual essences. The supreme question about a work of art
is out of how deep a life does it spring. The painting of Gustave Moreau is
the painting of ideas. The deepest poetry of Shelleythe words of Hamlet
bring our minds into contact with the eternal wisdomPlato's world of
ideas. All the rest is the speculation of schoolboys for schoolboys.

A. E. has been telling some yankee interviewer. Walltarnation strike me!
--The schoolmen were schoolboys firstStephen said superpolitely.
Aristotle was once Plato's schoolboy.


--And has remained soone should hopeJohn Eglinton sedately said. One
can see hima model schoolboy with his diploma under his arm.

He laughed again at the now smiling bearded face.

Formless spiritual. FatherWord and Holy Breath. Allfatherthe
heavenly man. Hiesos Kristosmagician of the beautifulthe Logos who
suffers in us at every moment. This verily is that. I am the fire upon the
altar. I am the sacrificial butter.

DunlopJudgethe noblest Roman of them allA.E.Arvalthe Name
Ineffablein heaven hight: K.H.their masterwhose identity is no
secret to adepts. Brothers of the great white lodge always watching to
see if they can help. The Christ with the bridesistermoisture of light
born of an ensouled virginrepentant sophiadeparted to the plane of
buddhi. The life esoteric is not for ordinary person. O.P. must work off
bad karma first. Mrs Cooper Oakley once glimpsed our very illustrious
sister H.P.B.'s elemental.

Ofie! Out on't! PFUITEUFEL! You naughtn't to lookmissusso you
naughtn't when a lady's ashowing of her elemental.

Mr Best enteredtallyoungmildlight. He bore in his hand with
grace a notebooknewlargecleanbright.

--That model schoolboyStephen saidwould find Hamlet's musings about
the afterlife of his princely soulthe improbableinsignificant and
undramatic monologueas shallow as Plato's.

John Eglintonfrowningsaidwaxing wroth:

--Upon my word it makes my blood boil to hear anyone compare Aristotle
with Plato.

--Which of the twoStephen askedwould have banished me from his
commonwealth?

Unsheathe your dagger definitions. Horseness is the whatness of
allhorse. Streams of tendency and eons they worship. God: noise in the
street: very peripatetic. Space: what you damn well have to see. Through
spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after
Blake's buttocks into eternity of which this vegetable world is but a shadow.
Hold to the nowthe herethrough which all future plunges to the past.

Mr Best came forwardamiabletowards his colleague.

--Haines is gonehe said.

--Is he?

--I was showing him Jubainville's book. He's quite enthusiasticdon't you
knowabout Hyde's LOVESONGS OF CONNACHT. I couldn't bring him in to
hear the discussion. He's gone to Gill's to buy it.

BOUND THEE FORTHMY BOOKLETQUICK

TO GREET THE CALLOUS PUBLIC.

WRITI WEEN'TWAS NOT MY WISH

IN LEAN UNLOVELY ENGLISH.

--The peatsmoke is going to his headJohn Eglinton opined.


We feel in England. Penitent thief. Gone. I smoked his baccy. Green
twinkling stone. An emerald set in the ring of the sea.

--People do not know how dangerous lovesongs can bethe auric egg of
Russell warned occultly. The movements which work revolutions in the
world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the
hillside. For them the earth is not an exploitable ground but the living
mother. The rarefied air of the academy and the arena produce the
sixshilling novelthe musichall song. France produces the finest flower
of corruption in Mallarme but the desirable life is revealed only to the
poor of heartthe life of Homer's Phaeacians.

From these words Mr Best turned an unoffending face to Stephen.

--Mallarmedon't you knowhe saidhas written those wonderful prose
poems Stephen MacKenna used to read to me in Paris. The one about
HAMLET. He says: IL SE PROMENELISANT AU LIVRE DE LUI-MEMEdon't you
knowREADING THE BOOK OF HIMSELF. He describes HAMLET given in a French
towndon't you knowa provincial town. They advertised it.

His free hand graciously wrote tiny signs in air.

HAMLET

OU

LE DISTRAIT

PIECE DE SHAKESPEARE

He repeated to John Eglinton's newgathered frown:

--PIECE DE SHAKESPEAREdon't you know. It's so French. The French point
of view. HAMLET OU ...

--The absentminded beggarStephen ended.

John Eglinton laughed.

--YesI suppose it would behe said. Excellent peopleno doubtbut
distressingly shortsighted in some matters.

Sumptuous and stagnant exaggeration of murder.

--A deathsman of the soul Robert Greene called himStephen said. Not for
nothing was he a butcher's sonwielding the sledded poleaxe and spitting
in his palms. Nine lives are taken off for his father's one. Our Father
who art in purgatory. Khaki Hamlets don't hesitate to shoot. The
bloodboltered shambles in act five is a forecast of the concentration camp
sung by Mr Swinburne.

CranlyI his mute orderlyfollowing battles from afar.

WHELPS AND DAMS OF MURDEROUS FOES WHOM NONE

BUT WE HAD SPARED ...

Between the Saxon smile and yankee yawp. The devil and the deep sea.

--He will have it that HAMLET is a ghoststoryJohn Eglinton said for Mr
Best's behoof. Like the fat boy in Pickwick he wants to make our flesh
creep.

LIST! LIST! O LIST!


My flesh hears him: creepinghears.

IF THOU DIDST EVER ...

--What is a ghost? Stephen said with tingling energy. One who has faded
into impalpability through deaththrough absencethrough change of
manners. Elizabethan London lay as far from Stratford as corrupt Paris
lies from virgin Dublin. Who is the ghost from LIMBO PATRUMreturning to
the world that has forgotten him? Who is King Hamlet?

John Eglinton shifted his spare bodyleaning back to judge.

Lifted.

--It is this hour of a day in mid JuneStephen saidbegging with a swift
glance their hearing. The flag is up on the playhouse by the bankside. The
bear Sackerson growls in the pit near itParis garden. Canvasclimbers who
sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the groundlings.

Local colour. Work in all you know. Make them accomplices.

--Shakespeare has left the huguenot's house in Silver street and walks by
the swanmews along the riverbank. But he does not stay to feed the pen
chivying her game of cygnets towards the rushes. The swan of Avon has
other thoughts.

Composition of place. Ignatius Loyolamake haste to help me!

--The play begins. A player comes on under the shadowmade up in the
castoff mail of a court bucka wellset man with a bass voice. It is the
ghostthe kinga king and no kingand the player is Shakespeare who has
studied HAMLET all the years of his life which were not vanity in order to
play the part of the spectre. He speaks the words to Burbagethe young player
who stands before him beyond the rack of cereclothcalling him by a name:

HAMLETI AM THY FATHER'S SPIRIT

bidding him list. To a son he speaksthe son of his soulthe princeyoung
Hamlet and to the son of his bodyHamnet Shakespearewho has died in
Stratford that his namesake may live for ever.

Is it possible that that player Shakespearea ghost by absenceand in the
vesture of buried Denmarka ghost by deathspeaking his own words to
his own son's name (had Hamnet Shakespeare lived he would have been
prince Hamlet's twin)is it possibleI want to knowor probable that he
did not draw or foresee the logical conclusion of those premises: you are
the dispossessed son: I am the murdered father: your mother is the
guilty queenAnn Shakespeareborn Hathaway?

--But this prying into the family life of a great manRussell began
impatiently.

Art thou theretruepenny?

--Interesting only to the parish clerk. I meanwe have the plays. I mean
when we read the poetry of KING LEAR what is it to us how the poet lived?
As for living our servants can do that for usVilliers de l'Isle has said.
Peeping and prying into greenroom gossip of the daythe poet's drinking
the poet's debts. We have KING LEAR: and it is immortal.


Mr Best's faceappealed toagreed.

FLOW OVER THEM WITH YOUR WAVES AND WITH YOUR WATERSMANANAAN
MANANAAN MACLIR ...


How nowsirrahthat pound he lent you when you were hungry?

MarryI wanted it.
Take thou this noble.

Go to! You spent most of it in Georgina Johnson's bedclergyman's
daughter. Agenbite of inwit.

Do you intend to pay it back?
Oyes.


When? Now?
Well ... No.


Whenthen?
I paid my way. I paid my way.


Steady on. He's from beyant Boyne water. The northeast corner. You owe it.


Wait. Five months. Molecules all change. I am other I now. Other I got
pound.

Buzz. Buzz.

But Ientelechyform of formsam I by memory because under
everchanging forms.
I that sinned and prayed and fasted.


A child Conmee saved from pandies.
II and I. I.

A.E.I.O.U.
--Do you mean to fly in the face of the tradition of three centuries? John
Eglinton's carping voice asked. Her ghost at least has been laid for ever.
She diedfor literature at leastbefore she was born.

--She diedStephen retortedsixtyseven years after she was born. She saw
him into and out of the world. She took his first embraces. She bore his
children and she laid pennies on his eyes to keep his eyelids closed when he
lay on his deathbed.

Mother's deathbed. Candle. The sheeted mirror. Who brought me
into this world lies therebronzeliddedunder few cheap flowers. LILIATA
RUTILANTIUM.

I wept alone.

John Eglinton looked in the tangled glowworm of his lamp.
--The world believes that Shakespeare made a mistakehe saidand got out



of it as quickly and as best he could.

--Bosh! Stephen said rudely. A man of genius makes no mistakes. His
errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery.

Portals of discovery opened to let in the quaker librarian
softcreakfootedbaldeared and assiduous.

--A shrewJohn Eglinton said shrewdlyis not a useful portal of discovery
one should imagine. What useful discovery did Socrates learn from
Xanthippe?

--DialecticStephen answered: and from his mother how to bring thoughts
into the world. What he learnt from his other wife Myrto (ABSIT NOMEN!)
Socratididion's Epipsychidionno mannot a womanwill ever know. But
neither the midwife's lore nor the caudlelectures saved him from the
archons of Sinn Fein and their naggin of hemlock.

--But Ann Hathaway? Mr Best's quiet voice said forgetfully. Yeswe seem
to be forgetting her as Shakespeare himself forgot her.

His look went from brooder's beard to carper's skullto remindto
chide them not unkindlythen to the baldpink lollard costardguiltless
though maligned.

--He had a good groatsworth of witStephen saidand no truant memory.
He carried a memory in his wallet as he trudged to Romeville whistling THE
GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME. If the earthquake did not time it we should know
where to place poor Watsitting in his formthe cry of houndsthe studded
bridle and her blue windows. That memoryVENUS AND ADONISlay in the
bedchamber of every light-of-love in London. Is Katharine the shrew
illfavoured? Hortensio calls her young and beautiful. Do you think the
writer of ANTONY AND CLEOPATRAa passionate pilgrimhad his eyes in the
back of his head that he chose the ugliest doxy in all Warwickshire to lie
withal? Good: he left her and gained the world of men. But his boywomen
are the women of a boy. Their lifethoughtspeech are lent them by males.
He chose badly? He was chosenit seems to me. If others have their will
Ann hath a way. By cockshe was to blame. She put the comether on him
sweet and twentysix. The greyeyed goddess who bends over the boy Adonis
stooping to conqueras prologue to the swelling actis a boldfaced
Stratford wench who tumbles in a cornfield a lover younger than herself.

And my turn? When?

Come!

--RyefieldMr Best said brightlygladlyraising his new bookgladly
brightly.

He murmured then with blond delight for all:

BETWEEN THE ACRES OF THE RYE
THESE PRETTY COUNTRYFOLK WOULD LIE.


Paris: the wellpleased pleaser.

A tall figure in bearded homespun rose from shadow and unveiled its
cooperative watch.

--I am afraid I am due at the HOMESTEAD.

Whither away? Exploitable ground.


--Are you going? John Eglinton's active eyebrows asked. Shall we see you
at Moore's tonight? Piper is coming.

--Piper! Mr Best piped. Is Piper back?

Peter Piper pecked a peck of pick of peck of pickled pepper.

--I don't know if I can. Thursday. We have our meeting. If I can get away
in time.

Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers. ISIS UNVEILED. Their Pali book
we tried to pawn. Crosslegged under an umbrel umbershoot he thrones an
Aztec logosfunctioning on astral levelstheir oversoulmahamahatma. The
faithful hermetists await the lightripe for chelashipringroundabout him.
Louis H. Victory. T. Caulfield Irwin. Lotus ladies tend them i'the eyestheir
pineal glands aglow. Filled with his godhe thronesBuddh under plantain.
Gulfer of soulsengulfer. Hesoulsshesoulsshoals of souls. Engulfed with
wailing creecrieswhirledwhirlingthey bewail.

IN QUINTESSENTIAL TRIVIALITY

FOR YEARS IN THIS FLESHCASE A SHESOUL DWELT.

--They say we are to have a literary surprisethe quaker librarian said
friendly and earnest. Mr Russellrumour has itis gathering together a
sheaf of our younger poets' verses. We are all looking forward anxiously.

Anxiously he glanced in the cone of lamplight where three faces
lightedshone.

See this. Remember.

Stephen looked down on a wide headless caubeenhung on his
ashplanthandle over his knee. My casque and sword. Touch lightly with
two index fingers. Aristotle's experiment. One or two? Necessity is that in
virtue of which it is impossible that one can be otherwise. Argalone hat is
one hat.

Listen.

Young Colum and Starkey. George Roberts is doing the commercial part.
Longworth will give it a good puff in the EXPRESS. Owill he? I liked
Colum's DROVER. YesI think he has that queer thing genius. Do you think
he has genius really? Yeats admired his line: AS IN WILD EARTH A GRECIAN
VASE. Did he? I hope you'll be able to come tonight. Malachi Mulligan is
coming too. Moore asked him to bring Haines. Did you hear Miss
Mitchell's joke about Moore and Martyn? That Moore is Martyn's wild
oats? Awfully cleverisn't it? They remind one of Don Quixote and Sancho
Panza. Our national epic has yet to be writtenDr Sigerson says. Moore is
the man for it. A knight of the rueful countenance here in Dublin. With a
saffron kilt? O'Neill Russell? Oyeshe must speak the grand old tongue.
And his Dulcinea? James Stephens is doing some clever sketches. We are
becoming importantit seems.

Cordelia. CORDOGLIO. Lir's loneliest daughter.

Nookshotten. Now your best French polish.

--Thank you very muchMr RussellStephen saidrising. If you will be so
kind as to give the letter to Mr Norman ...

--Oyes. If he considers it important it will go in. We have so much


correspondence.

--I understandStephen said. Thanks.

God ild you. The pigs' paper. Bullockbefriending.

Synge has promised me an article for DANA too. Are we going to be
read? I feel we are. The Gaelic league wants something in Irish. I hope you
will come round tonight. Bring Starkey.

Stephen sat down.

The quaker librarian came from the leavetakers. Blushinghis mask
said:

--Mr Dedalusyour views are most illuminating.

He creaked to and frotiptoing up nearer heaven by the altitude of a
chopineandcovered by the noise of outgoingsaid low:

--Is it your viewthenthat she was not faithful to the poet?

Alarmed face asks me. Why did he come? Courtesy or an inward
light?

--Where there is a reconciliationStephen saidthere must have been first a
sundering.

--Yes.

Christfox in leather trewshidinga runaway in blighted treeforks
from hue and cry. Knowing no vixenwalking lonely in the chase. Women
he won to himtender peoplea whore of Babylonladies of justicesbully
tapsters' wives. Fox and geese. And in New Place a slack dishonoured body
that once was comelyonce as sweetas fresh as cinnamonnow her leaves
fallingallbarefrighted of the narrow grave and unforgiven.

--Yes. So you think ...

The door closed behind the outgoer.

Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cellrest of warm and
brooding air.

A vestal's lamp.

Here he ponders things that were not: what Caesar would have lived
to do had he believed the soothsayer: what might have been: possibilities of
the possible as possible: things not known: what name Achilles bore when
he lived among women.

Coffined thoughts around mein mummycasesembalmed in spice of
words. Thothgod of librariesa birdgodmoonycrowned. And I heard the
voice of that Egyptian highpriest. IN PAINTED CHAMBERS LOADED WITH
TILEBOOKS.

They are still. Once quick in the brains of men. Still: but an itch of
death is in themto tell me in my ear a maudlin taleurge me to wreak their
will.

--CertainlyJohn Eglinton musedof all great men he is the most enigmatic.
We know nothing but that he lived and suffered. Not even so much. Others
abide our question. A shadow hangs over all the rest.


--But HAMLET is so personalisn't it? Mr Best pleaded. I meana kind of
private paperdon't you knowof his private life. I meanI don't care a
buttondon't you knowwho is killed or who is guilty ...

He rested an innocent book on the edge of the desksmiling his
defiance. His private papers in the original. TA AN BAD AR AN TIR. TAIM IN MO
SHAGART. Put beurla on itlittlejohn.

Quoth littlejohn Eglinton:

--I was prepared for paradoxes from what Malachi Mulligan told us but I
may as well warn you that if you want to shake my belief that Shakespeare
is Hamlet you have a stern task before you.

Bear with me.

Stephen withstood the bane of miscreant eyes glinting stern under
wrinkled brows. A basilisk. E QUANDO VEDE L'UOMO L'ATTOSCA. Messer
BrunettoI thank thee for the word.

--As weor mother Danaweave and unweave our bodiesStephen said
from day to daytheir molecules shuttled to and froso does the artist
weave and unweave his image. And as the mole on my right breast is where
it was when I was bornthough all my body has been woven of new stuff
time after timeso through the ghost of the unquiet father the image of the
unliving son looks forth. In the intense instant of imaginationwhen the
mindShelley saysis a fading coalthat which I was is that which I am and
that which in possibility I may come to be. So in the futurethe sister of
the pastI may see myself as I sit here now but by reflection from that which
then I shall be.

Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at that stile.

--YesMr Best said youngly. I feel Hamlet quite young. The bitterness
might be from the father but the passages with Ophelia are surely from the
son.

Has the wrong sow by the lug. He is in my father. I am in his son.

--That mole is the last to goStephen saidlaughing.

John Eglinton made a nothing pleasing mow.

--If that were the birthmark of geniushe saidgenius would be a drug in
the market. The plays of Shakespeare's later years which Renan admired so
much breathe another spirit.

--The spirit of reconciliationthe quaker librarian breathed.

--There can be no reconciliationStephen saidif there has not been a
sundering.

Said that.

--If you want to know what are the events which cast their shadow over the
hell of time of KING LEAROTHELLOHAMLETTROILUS AND CRESSIDAlook to
see when and how the shadow lifts. What softens the heart of a man
shipwrecked in storms direTriedlike another UlyssesPericlesprince of
Tyre?

Headredconecappedbuffetedbrineblinded.

--A childa girlplaced in his armsMarina.


--The leaning of sophists towards the bypaths of apocrypha is a constant
quantityJohn Eglinton detected. The highroads are dreary but they lead to
the town.


Good Bacon: gone musty. Shakespeare Bacon's wild oats.
Cypherjugglers going the highroads. Seekers on the great quest. What
towngood masters? Mummed in names: A. E.eon: MageeJohn Eglinton.
East of the sunwest of the moon: TIR NA N-OG. Booted the twain and
staved.


HOW MANY MILES TO DUBLIN?
THREE SCORE AND TENSIR.
WILL WE BE THERE BY CANDLELIGHT?


--Mr Brandes accepts itStephen saidas the first play of the closing
period.

--Does he? What does Mr Sidney Leeor Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver
his name issay of it?

--MarinaStephen saida child of stormMirandaa wonderPerditathat
which was lost. What was lost is given back to him: his daughter's child.
MY DEAREST WIFEPericles saysWAS LIKE THIS MAID. Will any man love the
daughter if he has not loved the mother?

--The art of being a grandfatherMr Best gan murmur. L'ART D'ETRE
GRAND ...

--Will he not see reborn in herwith the memory of his own youth added
another image?

Do you know what you are talking about? Loveyes. Word known to
all men. Amor vero aliquid alicui bonum vult unde et ea quae
concupiscimus ...

--His own image to a man with that queer thing genius is the standard of
all experiencematerial and moral. Such an appeal will touch him. The
images of other males of his blood will repel him. He will see in them
grotesque attempts of nature to foretell or to repeat himself.

The benign forehead of the quaker librarian enkindled rosily with hope.

--I hope Mr Dedalus will work out his theory for the enlightenment of the
public. And we ought to mention another Irish commentatorMr George
Bernard Shaw. Nor should we forget Mr Frank Harris. His articles on
Shakespeare in the SATURDAY REVIEW were surely brilliant. Oddly enough
he too draws for us an unhappy relation with the dark lady of the sonnets.
The favoured rival is William Herbertearl of Pembroke. I own that if the
poet must be rejected such a rejection would seem more in harmony
with--what shall I say?--our notions of what ought not to have been.

Felicitously he ceased and held a meek head among themauk's egg
prize of their fray.

He thous and thees her with grave husbandwords. Dost loveMiriam?
Dost love thy man?

--That may be tooStephen said. There's a saying of Goethe's which Mr
Magee likes to quote. Beware of what you wish for in youth because you
will get it in middle life. Why does he send to one who is a BUONAROBAa
bay where all men ridea maid of honour with a scandalous girlhooda
lordling to woo for him? He was himself a lord of language and had made


himself a coistrel gentleman and he had written ROMEO AND JULIET. Why?
Belief in himself has been untimely killed. He was overborne in a
cornfield first (ryefieldI should say) and he will never be a victor
in his own eyes after nor play victoriously the game of laugh and lie
down. Assumed dongiovannism will not save him. No later undoing will undo
the first undoing. The tusk of the boar has wounded him there where love
lies ableeding. If the shrew is worsted yet there remains to her woman's
invisible weapon. There isI feel in the wordssome goad of the flesh
driving him into a new passiona darker shadow of the firstdarkening
even his own understanding of himself. A like fate awaits him and the two
rages commingle in a whirlpool.

They list. And in the porches of their ears I pour.

--The soul has been before stricken mortallya poison poured in the porch
of a sleeping ear. But those who are done to death in sleep cannot know
the manner of their quell unless their Creator endow their souls with that
knowledge in the life to come. The poisoning and the beast with two backs
that urged it King Hamlet's ghost could not know of were he not endowed
with knowledge by his creator. That is why the speech (his lean unlovely
English) is always turned elsewherebackward. Ravisher and ravished
what he would but would notgo with him from Lucrece's bluecircled ivory
globes to Imogen's breastbarewith its mole cinquespotted. He goes
backweary of the creation he has piled up to hide him from himselfan
old dog licking an old sore. Butbecause loss is his gainhe passes on
towards eternity in undiminished personalityuntaught by the wisdom he
has written or by the laws he has revealed. His beaver is up. He is a
ghosta shadow nowthe wind by Elsinore's rocks or what you willthe
sea's voicea voice heard only in the heart of him who is the substance
of his shadowthe son consubstantial with the father.

--Amen! was responded from the doorway.

Hast thou found meO mine enemy?

ENTR'ACTE.

A ribald facesullen as a dean'sBuck Mulligan came forwardthen
blithe in motleytowards the greeting of their smiles. My telegram.

--You were speaking of the gaseous vertebrateif I mistake not? he asked
of Stephen.

Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his doffed Panama as with a bauble.

They make him welcome. WAS DU VERLACHST WIRST DU NOCH DIENEN.

Brood of mockers: PhotiuspseudomalachiJohann Most.

He Who Himself begot middler the Holy Ghost and Himself sent
HimselfAgenbuyerbetween Himself and othersWhoput upon by His
fiendsstripped and whippedwas nailed like bat to barndoorstarved on
crosstreeWho let Him burystood upharrowed hellfared into heaven
and there these nineteen hundred years sitteth on the right hand of His
Own Self but yet shall come in the latter day to doom the quick and dead
when all the quick shall be dead already.

Glo--o--ri--a in ex--cel--sis De--o.

He lifts his hands. Veils fall. Oflowers! Bells with bells with bells
aquiring.

--Yesindeedthe quaker librarian said. A most instructive discussion.
Mr MulliganI'll be boundhas his theory too of the play and of


Shakespeare. All sides of life should be represented.

He smiled on all sides equally.

Buck Mulligan thoughtpuzzled:

--Shakespeare? he said. I seem to know the name.

A flying sunny smile rayed in his loose features.

--To be surehe saidremembering brightly. The chap that writes like
Synge.

Mr Best turned to him.

--Haines missed youhe said. Did you meet him? He'll see you after at the

D. B. C. He's gone to Gill's to buy Hyde's LOVESONGS OF CONNACHT.
--I came through the museumBuck Mulligan said. Was he here?

--The bard's fellowcountrymenJohn Eglinton answeredare rather tired
perhaps of our brilliancies of theorising. I hear that an actress played
Hamlet for the fourhundredandeighth time last night in Dublin. Vining
held that the prince was a woman. Has no-one made him out to be an
Irishman? Judge BartonI believeis searching for some clues. He swears
(His Highness not His Lordship) by saint Patrick.

--The most brilliant of all is that story of Wilde'sMr Best said
lifting his brilliant notebook. That PORTRAIT OF MR W. H. where he proves
that the sonnets were written by a Willie Hughesa man all hues.

--For Willie Hughesis it not? the quaker librarian asked.

Or Hughie Wills? Mr William Himself. W. H.: who am I?

--I meanfor Willie HughesMr Best saidamending his gloss easily. Of
course it's all paradoxdon't you knowHughes and hews and huesthe
colourbut it's so typical the way he works it out. It's the very essence
of Wildedon't you know. The light touch.

His glance touched their faces lightly as he smileda blond ephebe.
Tame essence of Wilde.

You're darned witty. Three drams of usquebaugh you drank with Dan Deasy's
ducats.

How much did I spend? Oa few shillings.

For a plump of pressmen. Humour wet and dry.

Wit. You would give your five wits for youth's proud livery he pranks
in. Lineaments of gratified desire.

There be many mo. Take her for me. In pairing time. Jovea cool
ruttime send them. Yeaturtledove her.

Eve. Naked wheatbellied sin. A snake coils herfang in's kiss.

--Do you think it is only a paradox? the quaker librarian was asking. The
mocker is never taken seriously when he is most serious.

They talked seriously of mocker's seriousness.

Buck Mulligan's again heavy face eyed Stephen awhile. Thenhis


head wagginghe came neardrew a folded telegram from his pocket. His
mobile lips readsmiling with new delight.

--Telegram! he said. Wonderful inspiration! Telegram! A papal bull!

He sat on a corner of the unlit deskreading aloud joyfully:

--THE SENTIMENTALIST IS HE WHO WOULD ENJOY WITHOUT INCURRING THE IMMENSE
DEBTORSHIP FOR A THING DONE. Signed: Dedalus. Where did you launch it
from? The kips? No. College Green. Have you drunk the four quid? The
aunt is going to call on your unsubstantial father. Telegram! Malachi
MulliganThe Shiplower Abbey street. Oyou peerless mummer! Oyou
priestified Kinchite!

Joyfully he thrust message and envelope into a pocket but keened in a
querulous brogue:

--It's what I'm telling youmister honeyit's queer and sick we were
Haines and myselfthe time himself brought it in. 'Twas murmur we did for
a gallus potion would rouse a friarI'm thinkingand he limp with
leching. And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery's
sitting civil waiting for pints apiece.

He wailed:

--And we to be theremavroneand you to be unbeknownst sending us
your conglomerations the way we to have our tongues out a yard long like
the drouthy clerics do be fainting for a pussful.

Stephen laughed.

Quicklywarningfully Buck Mulligan bent down.

--The tramper Synge is looking for youhe saidto murder you. He heard
you pissed on his halldoor in Glasthule. He's out in pampooties to murder
you.

--Me! Stephen exclaimed. That was your contribution to literature.

Buck Mulligan gleefully bent backlaughing to the dark eavesdropping
ceiling.

--Murder you! he laughed.

Harsh gargoyle face that warred against me over our mess of hash of
lights in rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts. In words of words for wordspalabras.
Oisin with Patrick. Faunman he met in Clamart woodsbrandishing a
winebottle. C'EST VENDREDI SAINT! Murthering Irish. His imagewandering
he met. I mine. I met a fool i'the forest.

--Mr Lysteran attendant said from the door ajar.

-- ... in which everyone can find his own. So Mr Justice Madden in his
DIARY OF MASTER WILLIAM SILENCE has found the hunting terms ... Yes? What
is it?

--There's a gentleman heresirthe attendant saidcoming forward and
offering a card. From the FREEMAN. He wants to see the files of the
KILKENNY PEOPLE for last year.

--Certainlycertainlycertainly. Is the gentleman? ...

He took the eager cardglancednot sawlaid down unglanced
lookedaskedcreakedasked:


--Is he? ... Othere!

Brisk in a galliard he was offout. In the daylit corridor he talked
with voluble pains of zealin duty boundmost fairmost kindmost
honest broadbrim.

--This gentleman? FREEMAN'S JOURNAL? KILKENNY PEOPLE? To be sure. Good
daysir. KILKENNY ... We have certainly ...

A patient silhouette waitedlistening.

--All the leading provincial ... NORTHERN WHIGCORK EXAMINER
ENNISCORTHY GUARDIAN1903 ... Will you please? ... Evans
conduct this gentleman ... If you just follow the atten ... Orplease
allow me ... This way ... Pleasesir ...

Volubledutifulhe led the way to all the provincial papersa bowing
dark figure following his hasty heels.

The door closed.

--The sheeny! Buck Mulligan cried.

He jumped up and snatched the card.

--What's his name? Ikey Moses? Bloom.

He rattled on:

--Jehovahcollector of prepucesis no more. I found him over in the
museum where I went to hail the foamborn Aphrodite. The Greek mouth
that has never been twisted in prayer. Every day we must do homage to her.
LIFE OF LIFETHY LIPS ENKINDLE.

Suddenly he turned to Stephen:

--He knows you. He knows your old fellow. OI fear mehe is Greeker
than the Greeks. His pale Galilean eyes were upon her mesial groove.
Venus Kallipyge. Othe thunder of those loins! THE GOD PURSUING THE
MAIDEN HID.

--We want to hear moreJohn Eglinton decided with Mr Best's approval.
We begin to be interested in Mrs S. Till now we had thought of herif at
allas a patient Griseldaa Penelope stayathome.

--Antisthenespupil of GorgiasStephen saidtook the palm of beauty
from Kyrios Menelaus' brooddamArgive Helenthe wooden mare of Troy in
whom a score of heroes sleptand handed it to poor Penelope. Twenty years
he lived in London andduring part of that timehe drew a salary equal
to that of the lord chancellor of Ireland. His life was rich. His art
more than the art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called itis the art of
surfeit. Hot herringpiesgreen mugs of sackhoneysaucessugar of roses
marchpanegooseberried pigeonsringocandies. Sir Walter Raleighwhen
they arrested himhad half a million francs on his back including a pair
of fancy stays. The gombeenwoman Eliza Tudor had underlinen enough to vie
with her of Sheba. Twenty years he dallied there between conjugial love
and its chaste delights and scortatory love and its foul pleasures.
You know Manningham's story of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage
to her bed after she had seen him in RICHARD III and how Shakespeare
overhearingwithout more ado about nothingtook the cow by the horns
andwhen Burbage came knocking at the gateanswered from the capon's
blankets: WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR CAME BEFORE RICHARD III. And the gay
lakinmistress Fittonmount and cry Oand his dainty birdsnieslady


Penelope Richa clean quality woman is suited for a playerand the punks
of the banksidea penny a time.


Cours la Reine. ENCORE VINGT SOUS. NOUS FERONS DE PETITES COCHONNERIES.
MINETTE? TU VEUX?


--The height of fine society. And sir William Davenant of oxford's mother
with her cup of canary for any cockcanary.


Buck Mulliganhis pious eyes upturnedprayed:


--Blessed Margaret Mary Anycock!


--And Harry of six wives' daughter. And other lady friends from
neighbour seats as Lawn Tennysongentleman poetsings. But all those
twenty years what do you suppose poor Penelope in Stratford was doing
behind the diamond panes?


Do and do. Thing done. In a rosery of Fetter lane of Gerard
herbalisthe walksgreyedauburn. An azured harebell like her veins. Lids
of Juno's eyesviolets. He walks. One life is all. One body. Do. But do.
Afarin a reek of lust and squalorhands are laid on whiteness.


Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's desk sharply.


--Whom do you suspect? he challenged.


--Say that he is the spurned lover in the sonnets. Once spurned twice
spurned. But the court wanton spurned him for a lordhis dearmylove.


Love that dare not speak its name.


--As an Englishmanyou meanJohn sturdy Eglinton put inhe loved
a lord.


Old wall where sudden lizards flash. At Charenton I watched them.


--It seems soStephen saidwhen he wants to do for himand for all
other and singular uneared wombsthe holy office an ostler does for the
stallion. Maybelike Socrateshe had a midwife to mother as he had a
shrew to wife. But shethe giglot wantondid not break a bedvow. Two
deeds are rank in that ghost's mind: a broken vow and the dullbrained
yokel on whom her favour has declineddeceased husband's brother. Sweet
AnnI take itwas hot in the blood. Once a wooertwice a wooer.


Stephen turned boldly in his chair.


--The burden of proof is with you not with mehe said frowning. If you
deny that in the fifth scene of HAMLET he has branded her with infamy tell
me why there is no mention of her during the thirtyfour years between the
day she married him and the day she buried him. All those women saw their
men down and under: Maryher goodman JohnAnnher poor dear
Willunwhen he went and died on herraging that he was the first to go
Joanher four brothersJudithher husband and all her sonsSusanher
husband toowhile Susan's daughterElizabethto use granddaddy's
wordswed her secondhaving killed her first.


Oyesmention there is. In the years when he was living richly in royal
London to pay a debt she had to borrow forty shillings from her father's
shepherd. Explain you then. Explain the swansong too wherein he has
commended her to posterity.


He faced their silence.



To whom thus Eglinton:

You mean the will.
But that has been explainedI believeby jurists.
She was entitled to her widow's dower
At common law. His legal knowledge was great
Our judges tell us.


Him Satan fleers
Mocker:


And therefore he left out her name
From the first draft but he did not leave out
The presents for his granddaughterfor his daughters
For his sisterfor his old cronies in Stratford
And in London. And therefore when he was urged
As I believeto name her
He left her his
Secondbest
Bed.


PUNKT.
Leftherhis
Secondbest
Leftherhis
Bestabed
Secabest
Leftabed.


Woa!

--Pretty countryfolk had few chattels thenJohn Eglinton observedas
they have still if our peasant plays are true to type.

--He was a rich country gentlemanStephen saidwith a coat of arms and
landed estate at Stratford and a house in Ireland yarda capitalist
shareholdera bill promotera tithefarmer. Why did he not leave her his
best bed if he wished her to snore away the rest of her nights in peace?

--It is clear that there were two bedsa best and a secondbest
Mr Secondbest Best said finely.

--SEPARATIO A MENSA ET A THALAMObettered Buck Mulligan and was
smiled on.

--Antiquity mentions famous bedsSecond Eglinton puckeredbedsmiling.
Let me think.

--Antiquity mentions that Stagyrite schoolurchin and bald heathen sage
Stephen saidwho when dying in exile frees and endows his slavespays
tribute to his elderswills to be laid in earth near the bones of his
dead wife and bids his friends be kind to an old mistress (don't forget
Nell Gwynn Herpyllis) and let her live in his villa.

--Do you mean he died so? Mr Best asked with slight concern. I mean ...

--He died dead drunkBuck Mulligan capped. A quart of ale is a dish for a
king. OI must tell you what Dowden said!

--What? asked Besteglinton.

William Shakespeare and companylimited. The people's William.
For terms apply: E. DowdenHighfield house ...

--Lovely! Buck Mulligan suspired amorously. I asked him what he thought


of the charge of pederasty brought against the bard. He lifted his hands
and said: ALL WE CAN SAY IS THAT LIFE RAN VERY HIGH IN THOSE DAYS. Lovely!

Catamite.

--The sense of beauty leads us astraysaid beautifulinsadness Best to
ugling Eglinton.

Steadfast John replied severe:

--The doctor can tell us what those words mean. You cannot eat your cake
and have it.

Sayest thou so? Will they wrest from usfrom methe palm of beauty?

--And the sense of propertyStephen said. He drew Shylock out of his own
long pocket. The son of a maltjobber and moneylender he was himself a
cornjobber and moneylenderwith ten tods of corn hoarded in the famine
riots. His borrowers are no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by
Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. He sued a
fellowplayer for the price of a few bags of malt and exacted his pound of
flesh in interest for every money lent. How else could Aubrey's ostler and
callboy get rich quick? All events brought grist to his mill. Shylock
chimes with the jewbaiting that followed the hanging and quartering of the
queen's leech Lopezhis jew's heart being plucked forth while the sheeny
was yet alive: HAMLET and MACBETH with the coming to the throne of a
Scotch philosophaster with a turn for witchroasting. The lost armada is
his jeer in LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. His pageantsthe historiessail
fullbellied on a tide of Mafeking enthusiasm. Warwickshire jesuits are
tried and we have a porter's theory of equivocation. The SEA VENTURE comes
home from Bermudas and the play Renan admired is written with Patsy
Calibanour American cousin. The sugared sonnets follow Sidney's. As for
fay Elizabethotherwise carrotty Bessthe gross virgin who inspired THE
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSORlet some meinherr from Almany grope his life long
for deephid meanings in the depths of the buckbasket.

I think you're getting on very nicely. Just mix up a mixture of
theolologicophilolological. MINGOMINXIMICTUMMINGERE.

--Prove that he was a jewJohn Eglinton dared'expectantly. Your dean of
studies holds he was a holy Roman.

SUFFLAMINANDUS SUM.

--He was made in GermanyStephen repliedas the champion French
polisher of Italian scandals.

--A myriadminded manMr Best reminded. Coleridge called him myriadminded.

AMPLIUS. IN SOCIETATE HUMANA HOC EST MAXIME NECESSARIUM UT SIT AMICITIA
INTER MULTOS.

--Saint ThomasStephen began ...

--ORA PRO NOBISMonk Mulligan groanedsinking to a chair.

There he keened a wailing rune.

--POGUE MAHONE! ACUSHLA MACHREE! It's destroyed we are from this day! It's
destroyed we are surely!

All smiled their smiles.


--Saint ThomasStephen smiling saidwhose gorbellied works I enjoy
reading in the originalwriting of incest from a standpoint different
from that of the new Viennese school Mr Magee spoke oflikens it in his
wise and curious way to an avarice of the emotions. He means that the love
so given to one near in blood is covetously withheld from some
stranger whoit may behungers for it. Jewswhom christians tax
with avariceare of all races the most given to intermarriage.
Accusations are made in anger. The christian laws which built up
the hoards of the jews (for whomas for the lollardsstorm was shelter)
bound their affections too with hoops of steel. Whether these be sins
or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us at doomsday leet. But a man who
holds so tightly to what he calls his rights over what he calls his debts
will hold tightly also to what he calls his rights over her whom he calls
his wife. No sir smile neighbour shall covet his ox or his wife or his
manservant or his maidservant or his jackass.

--Or his jennyassBuck Mulligan antiphoned.

--Gentle Will is being roughly handledgentle Mr Best said gently.

--Which will? gagged sweetly Buck Mulligan. We are getting mixed.

--The will to liveJohn Eglinton philosophisedfor poor AnnWill's
widowis the will to die.

--REQUIESCAT! Stephen prayed.

WHAT OF ALL THE WILL TO DO?
IT HAS VANISHED LONG AGO ...


--She lies laid out in stark stiffness in that secondbest bedthe mobled
queeneven though you prove that a bed in those days was as rare as a
motorcar is now and that its carvings were the wonder of seven parishes.
In old age she takes up with gospellers (one stayed with her at New Place
and drank a quart of sack the town council paid for but in which bed he
slept it skills not to ask) and heard she had a soul. She read or had read
to her his chapbooks preferring them to the MERRY WIVES andloosing her
nightly waters on the jordanshe thought over HOOKS AND EYES FOR
BELIEVERS' BREECHES and THE MOST SPIRITUAL SNUFFBOX TO MAKE THE MOST
DEVOUT SOULS SNEEZE. Venus has twisted her lips in prayer. Agenbite of
inwit: remorse of conscience. It is an age of exhausted whoredom groping
for its god.

--History shows that to be trueINQUIT EGLINTONUS CHRONOLOLOGOS. The ages
succeed one another. But we have it on high authority that a man's worst
enemies shall be those of his own house and family. I feel that Russell is
right. What do we care for his wife or father? I should say that only
family poets have family lives. Falstaff was not a family man. I feel that
the fat knight is his supreme creation.

Leanhe lay back. Shydeny thy kindredthe unco guid. Shysupping
with the godlesshe sneaks the cup. A sire in Ultonian Antrim bade it
him. Visits him here on quarter days. Mr Mageesirthere's a gentleman
to see you. Me? Says he's your fathersir. Give me my Wordsworth. Enter
Magee Mor Matthewa rugged rough rugheaded kernin strossers with a
buttoned codpiecehis nether stocks bemired with clauber of ten forests
a wand of wilding in his hand.

Your own? He knows your old fellow. The widower.

Hurrying to her squalid deathlair from gay Paris on the quayside I
touched his hand. The voicenew warmthspeaking. Dr Bob Kenny is


attending her. The eyes that wish me well. But do not know me.

--A fatherStephen saidbattling against hopelessnessis a necessary
evil. He wrote the play in the months that followed his father's death. If
you hold that hea greying man with two marriageable daughterswith
thirtyfive years of lifeNEL MEZZO DEL CAMMIN DI NOSTRA VITAwith fifty
of experienceis the beardless undergraduate from Wittenberg then you
must hold that his seventyyear old mother is the lustful queen. No. The
corpse of John Shakespeare does not walk the night. From hour to hour it
rots and rots. He restsdisarmed of fatherhoodhaving devised that
mystical estate upon his son. Boccaccio's Calandrino was the first and
last man who felt himself with child. Fatherhoodin the sense of
conscious begettingis unknown to man. It is a mystical estatean
apostolic successionfrom only begetter to only begotten. On that mystery
and not on the madonna which the cunning Italian intellect flung
to the mob of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably
because foundedlike the worldmacro and microcosmupon the void. Upon
incertitudeupon unlikelihood. AMOR MATRISsubjective and objective
genitivemay be the only true thing in life. Paternity may be a legal
fiction. Who is the father of any son that any son should love him or he
any son?

What the hell are you driving at?

I know. Shut up. Blast you. I have reasons.

AMPLIUS. ADHUC. ITERUM. POSTEA.

Are you condemned to do this?

--They are sundered by a bodily shame so steadfast that the criminal
annals of the worldstained with all other incests and bestialities
hardly record its breach. Sons with motherssires with daughterslesbic
sistersloves that dare not speak their namenephews with grandmothers
jailbirds with keyholesqueens with prize bulls. The son unborn mars
beauty: bornhe brings paindivides affectionincreases care. He is a
new male: his growth is his father's declinehis youth his father's envy
his friend his father's enemy.

In rue Monsieur-le-Prince I thought it.

--What links them in nature? An instant of blind rut.

Am I a father? If I were?

Shrunken uncertain hand.

--Sabelliusthe Africansubtlest heresiarch of all the beasts of the
fieldheld that the Father was Himself His Own Son. The bulldog of Aquin
with whom no word shall be impossiblerefutes him. Well: if the father
who has not a son be not a father can the son who has not a father be a
son? When Rutlandbaconsouthamptonshakespeare or another poet of the same
name in the comedy of errors wrote HAMLET he was not the father of his own
son merely butbeing no more a sonhe was and felt himself the father of
all his racethe father of his own grandfatherthe father of his unborn
grandson whoby the same tokennever was bornfor natureas Mr Magee
understands herabhors perfection.

Eglintoneyesquick with pleasurelooked up shybrightly. Gladly
glancinga merry puritanthrough the twisted eglantine.

Flatter. Rarely. But flatter.

--Himself his own fatherSonmulligan told himself. Wait. I am big with


child. I have an unborn child in my brain. Pallas Athena! A play! The
play's the thing! Let me parturiate!

He clasped his paunchbrow with both birthaiding hands.

--As for his familyStephen saidhis mother's name lives in the forest
of Arden. Her death brought from him the scene with Volumnia in
CORIOLANUS. His boyson's death is the deathscene of young Arthur in KING
JOHN. Hamletthe black princeis Hamnet Shakespeare. Who the girls in
THE TEMPESTin PERICLESin WINTER'S TALE are we know. Who Cleopatra
fleshpot of Egyptand Cressid and Venus are we may guess. But there is
another member of his family who is recorded.

--The plot thickensJohn Eglinton said.

The quaker librarianquakingtiptoed inquakehis maskquake
with hastequakequack.

Door closed. Cell. Day.

They list. Three. They.

I you he they.

Comemess.

STEPHEN: He had three brothersGilbertEdmundRichard. Gilbert in his
old age told some cavaliers he got a pass for nowt from Maister Gatherer
one time mass he did and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up
in Lunnon in a wrastling play wud a man on's back. The playhouse sausage
filled Gilbert's soul. He is nowhere: but an Edmund and a Richard are
recorded in the works of sweet William.

MAGEEGLINJOHN: Names! What's in a name?

BEST: That is my nameRicharddon't you know. I hope you are going to
say a good word for Richarddon't you knowfor my sake.

(Laughter)

BUCKMULLIGAN: (PIANODIMINUENDO)

Then outspoke medical Dick

To his comrade medical Davy ...

STEPHEN: In his trinity of black Willsthe villain shakebagsIago
Richard CrookbackEdmund in KING LEARtwo bear the wicked uncles' names.
Naythat last play was written or being written while his brother Edmund
lay dying in Southwark.

BEST: I hope Edmund is going to catch it. I don't want Richard
my name ...

(Laughter)

QUAKERLYSTER: (A TEMPO) But he that filches from me my good name ...

STEPHEN: (STRINGENDO) He has hidden his own namea fair nameWilliam
in the playsa super herea clown thereas a painter of old Italy set
his face in a dark corner of his canvas. He has revealed it in the sonnets
where there is Will in overplus. Like John o'Gaunt his name is dear to him
as dear as the coat and crest he toadied foron a bend sable a spear or
steeled argenthonorificabilitudinitatibusdearer than his glory of
greatest shakescene in the country. What's in a name? That is what we ask


ourselves in childhood when we write the name that we are told is ours. A
stara daystara firedrakerose at his birth. It shone by day in the
heavens alonebrighter than Venus in the nightand by night it shone
over delta in Cassiopeiathe recumbent constellation which is the
signature of his initial among the stars. His eyes watched itlowlying on
the horizoneastward of the bearas he walked by the slumberous summer
fields at midnight returning from Shottery and from her arms.

Both satisfied. I too.

Don't tell them he was nine years old when it was quenched.

And from her arms.

Wait to be wooed and won. Aymeacock. Who will woo you?

Read the skies. AUTONTIMORUMENOS. BOUS STEPHANOUMENOS. Where's
your configuration? StephenStephencut the bread even. S. D: SUA DONNA.
GIA: DI LUI. GELINDO RISOLVE DI NON AMARE S. D.

--What is thatMr Dedalus? the quaker librarian asked. Was it a celestial
phenomenon?

--A star by nightStephen said. A pillar of the cloud by day.

What more's to speak?

Stephen looked on his hathis stickhis boots.

STEPHANOSmy crown. My sword. His boots are spoiling the shape of
my feet. Buy a pair. Holes in my socks. Handkerchief too.

--You make good use of the nameJohn Eglinton allowed. Your own name
is strange enough. I suppose it explains your fantastical humour.

MeMagee and Mulligan.

Fabulous artificer. The hawklike man. You flew. Whereto?
Newhaven-Dieppesteerage passenger. Paris and back. Lapwing. Icarus.
PATERAIT. Seabedabbledfallenweltering. Lapwing you are. Lapwing be.

Mr Best eagerquietly lifted his book to say:

--That's very interesting because that brother motivedon't you knowwe
find also in the old Irish myths. Just what you say. The three brothers
Shakespeare. In Grimm toodon't you knowthe fairytales. The third
brother that always marries the sleeping beauty and wins the best prize.

Best of Best brothers. Goodbetterbest.

The quaker librarian springhalted near.

--I should like to knowhe saidwhich brother you ... I understand you
to suggest there was misconduct with one of the brothers ... But
perhaps I am anticipating?

He caught himself in the act: looked at all: refrained.

An attendant from the doorway called:

--Mr Lyster! Father Dineen wants ...

--OFather Dineen! Directly.


Swiftly rectly creaking rectly rectly he was rectly gone.

John Eglinton touched the foil.

--Comehe said. Let us hear what you have to say of Richard and
Edmund. You kept them for the lastdidn't you?


--In asking you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie and
nuncle EdmundStephen answeredI feel I am asking too much perhaps. A
brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.


Lapwing.


Where is your brother? Apothecaries' hall. My whetstone. Himthen
CranlyMulligan: now these. Speechspeech. But act. Act speech. They
mock to try you. Act. Be acted on.


Lapwing.


I am tired of my voicethe voice of Esau. My kingdom for a drink.


On.


--You will say those names were already in the chronicles from which he
took the stuff of his plays. Why did he take them rather than others?
Richarda whoreson crookbackmisbegottenmakes love to a widowed
Ann (what's in a name?)woos and wins hera whoreson merry widow.
Richard the conquerorthird brothercame after William the conquered.
The other four acts of that play hang limply from that first. Of all his
kings Richard is the only king unshielded by Shakespeare's reverence
the angel of the world. Why is the underplot of KING LEAR in which Edmund
figures lifted out of Sidney's ARCADIA and spatchcocked on to a Celtic
legend older than history?


--That was Will's wayJohn Eglinton defended. We should not now
combine a Norse saga with an excerpt from a novel by George Meredith.
QUE VOULEZ-VOUS? Moore would say. He puts Bohemia on the seacoast and
makes Ulysses quote Aristotle.


--Why? Stephen answered himself. Because the theme of the false or the
usurping or the adulterous brother or all three in one is to Shakespeare
what the poor are notalways with him. The note of banishment
banishment from the heartbanishment from homesounds uninterruptedly
from THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA onward till Prospero breaks his staff
buries it certain fathoms in the earth and drowns his book. It doubles
itself in the middle of his lifereflects itself in anotherrepeats
itselfprotasisepitasiscatastasiscatastrophe. It repeats
itself again when he is near the gravewhen his married daughter
Susanchip of the old blockis accused of adultery. But it was
the original sin that darkened his understandingweakened his
will and left in him a strong inclination to evil. The words are
those of my lords bishops of Maynooth. An original sin andlike original
sincommitted by another in whose sin he too has sinned. It is between
the lines of his last written wordsit is petrified on his tombstone
under which her four bones are not to be laid. Age has not withered it.
Beauty and peace have not done it away. It is in infinite variety
everywhere in the world he has createdin MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHINGtwice
in AS YOU LIKE ITin THE TEMPESTin HAMLETin MEASURE FOR MEASURE--and
in all the other plays which I have not read.


He laughed to free his mind from his mind's bondage.


Judge Eglinton summed up.



--The truth is midwayhe affirmed. He is the ghost and the prince. He is
all in all.

--He isStephen said. The boy of act one is the mature man of act five.
All in all. In CYMBELINEin OTHELLO he is bawd and cuckold. He acts and
is acted on. Lover of an ideal or a perversionlike Jose he kills the
real Carmen. His unremitting intellect is the hornmad Iago ceaselessly
willing that the moor in him shall suffer.

--Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuck Mulligan clucked lewdly. O word of fear!

Dark dome receivedreverbed.

--And what a character is Iago! undaunted John Eglinton exclaimed.
When all is said Dumas FILS (or is it Dumas PERE?) is right. After God
Shakespeare has created most.

--Man delights him not nor woman neitherStephen said. He returns after
a life of absence to that spot of earth where he was bornwhere he has
always beenman and boya silent witness and therehis journey of life
endedhe plants his mulberrytree in the earth. Then dies. The motion is
ended. Gravediggers bury Hamlet PERE and Hamlet FILS. A king and a
prince at last in deathwith incidental music. Andwhat though murdered
and betrayedbewept by all frail tender hearts forDane or Dubliner
sorrow for the dead is the only husband from whom they refuse to be
divorced. If you like the epilogue look long on it: prosperous Prospero
the good man rewardedLizziegrandpa's lump of loveand nuncle Richie
the bad man taken off by poetic justice to the place where the bad niggers
go. Strong curtain. He found in the world without as actual what was in his
world within as possible. Maeterlinck says: IF SOCRATES LEAVE HIS HOUSE
TODAY HE WILL FIND THE SAGE SEATED ON HIS DOORSTEP. IF JUDAS GO FORTH
TONIGHT IT IS TO JUDAS HIS STEPS WILL TEND. Every life is many days
day after day. We walk through ourselvesmeeting robbersghostsgiants
old menyoung menwiveswidowsbrothers-in-lovebut always meeting
ourselves. The playwright who wrote the folio of this world and wrote it
badly (He gave us light first and the sun two days later)the lord of
things as they are whom the most Roman of catholics call DIO BOIA
hangman godis doubtless all in all in all of usostler and butcher
and would be bawd and cuckold too but that in the economy of heaven
foretold by Hamletthere are no more marriagesglorified manan
androgynous angelbeing a wife unto himself.

--EUREKA! Buck Mulligan cried. EUREKA!

Suddenly happied he jumped up and reached in a stride John Eglinton's
desk.

--May I? he said. The Lord has spoken to Malachi.

He began to scribble on a slip of paper.

Take some slips from the counter going out.

--Those who are marriedMr Bestdouce heraldsaidall save oneshall
live. The rest shall keep as they are.

He laughedunmarriedat Eglinton Johannesof arts a bachelor.

Unwedunfanciedware of wilesthey fingerponder nightly each his
variorum edition of THE TAMING OF THE SHREW.

--You are a delusionsaid roundly John Eglinton to Stephen. You have
brought us all this way to show us a French triangle. Do you believe your


own theory?

--NoStephen said promptly.

--Are you going to write it? Mr Best asked. You ought to make it a
dialoguedon't you knowlike the Platonic dialogues Wilde wrote.

John Eclecticon doubly smiled.

--Wellin that casehe saidI don't see why you should expect payment
for it since you don't believe it yourself. Dowden believes there is some
mystery in HAMLET but will say no more. Herr Bleibtreuthe man Piper met
in Berlinwho is working up that Rutland theorybelieves that the secret
is hidden in the Stratford monument. He is going to visit the present
dukePiper saysand prove to him that his ancestor wrote the plays.
It will come as a surprise to his grace. But he believes his theory.

I believeO Lordhelp my unbelief. That ishelp me to believe or help
me to unbelieve? Who helps to believe? EGOMEN. Who to unbelieve? Other
chap.

--You are the only contributor to DANA who asks for pieces of silver. Then
I don't know about the next number. Fred Ryan wants space for an article
on economics.

Fraidrine. Two pieces of silver he lent me. Tide you over. Economics.

--For a guineaStephen saidyou can publish this interview.

Buck Mulligan stood up from his laughing scribblinglaughing: and
then gravely saidhoneying malice:

--I called upon the bard Kinch at his summer residence in upper
Mecklenburgh street and found him deep in the study of the SUMMA CONTRA
GENTILES in the company of two gonorrheal ladiesFresh Nelly and Rosalie
the coalquay whore.

He broke away.

--ComeKinch. Comewandering Aengus of the birds.

ComeKinch. You have eaten all we left. Ay. I will serve you your orts
and offals.

Stephen rose.

Life is many days. This will end.

--We shall see you tonightJohn Eglinton said. NOTRE AMI Moore says
Malachi Mulligan must be there.

Buck Mulligan flaunted his slip and panama.

--Monsieur Moorehe saidlecturer on French letters to the youth of
Ireland. I'll be there. ComeKinchthe bards must drink. Can you walk
straight?

Laughinghe ...

Swill till eleven. Irish nights entertainment.

Lubber ...

Stephen followed a lubber ...


One day in the national library we had a discussion. Shakes. After.
His lub back: I followed. I gall his kibe.

Stephengreetingthen all amortfollowed a lubber jestera
wellkempt headnewbarberedout of the vaulted cell into a shattering
daylight of no thought.

What have I learned? Of them? Of me?

Walk like Haines now.

The constant readers' room. In the readers' book Cashel Boyle
O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell parafes his polysyllables. Item: was
Hamlet mad? The quaker's pate godlily with a priesteen in booktalk.

--O please dosir ... I shall be most pleased ...

Amused Buck Mulligan mused in pleasant murmur with himselfselfnodding:

--A pleased bottom.

The turnstile.

Is that? ... Blueribboned hat ... Idly writing ... What? Looked? ...

The curving balustrade: smoothsliding Mincius.

Puck Mulliganpanamahelmetedwent step by stepiambingtrolling:

JOHN EGLINTONMY JOJOHN
WHY WON'T YOU WED A WIFE?


He spluttered to the air:


--Othe chinless Chinaman! Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton. We went over to their
playboxHaines and Ithe plumbers' hall. Our players are creating a new
art for Europe like the Greeks or M. Maeterlinck. Abbey Theatre! I smell
the pubic sweat of monks.


He spat blank.


Forgot: any more than he forgot the whipping lousy Lucy gave him.
And left the FEMME DE TRENTE ANS. And why no other children born? And his
first child a girl?


Afterwit. Go back.


The dour recluse still there (he has his cake) and the douce youngling
minion of pleasurePhedo's toyable fair hair.


Eh ... I just eh ... wanted ... I forgot ... he ...


--Longworth and M'Curdy Atkinson were there ...


Puck Mulligan footed featlytrilling:


I HARDLY HEAR THE PURLIEU CRY
OR A TOMMY TALK AS I PASS ONE BY
BEFORE MY THOUGHTS BEGIN TO RUN
ON F. M'CURDY ATKINSON
THE SAME THAT HAD THE WOODEN LEG



AND THAT FILIBUSTERING FILIBEG
THAT NEVER DARED TO SLAKE HIS DROUTH
MAGEE THAT HAD THE CHINLESS MOUTH.
BEING AFRAID TO MARRY ON EARTH
THEY MASTURBATED FOR ALL THEY WERE WORTH.


Jest on. Know thyself.

Haltedbelow mea quizzer looks at me. I halt.

--Mournful mummerBuck Mulligan moaned. Synge has left off wearing
black to be like nature. Only crowspriests and English coal are black.

A laugh tripped over his lips.

--Longworth is awfully sickhe saidafter what you wrote about that old
hake Gregory. O you inquisitional drunken jewjesuit! She gets you a job on
the paper and then you go and slate her drivel to Jaysus. Couldn't you do
the Yeats touch?

He went on and downmoppingchanting with waving graceful arms:

--The most beautiful book that has come out of our country in my time.
One thinks of Homer.

He stopped at the stairfoot.

--I have conceived a play for the mummershe said solemnly.

The pillared Moorish hallshadows entwined. Gone the nine men's
morrice with caps of indices.

In sweetly varying voices Buck Mulligan read his tablet:

EVERYMAN HIS OWN WIFE
OR
A HONEYMOON IN THE HAND
(A NATIONAL IMMORALITY IN THREE ORGASMS)
BY
BALLOCKY MULLIGAN


He turned a happy patch's smirk to Stephensaying:

--The disguiseI fearis thin. But listen.

He readMARCATO:

--Characters:

TODY TOSTOFF (a ruined Pole)
CRAB (a bushranger)
MEDICAL DICK )


and ) (two birds with one stone)
MEDICAL DAVY )
MOTHER GROGAN (a watercarrier)
FRESH NELLY


and
ROSALIE (the coalquay whore).


He laughedlolling a to and fro headwalking onfollowed by Stephen:


and mirthfully he told the shadowssouls of men:

--Othe night in the Camden hall when the daughters of Erin had to lift
their skirts to step over you as you lay in your mulberrycoloured
multicolouredmultitudinous vomit!

--The most innocent son of ErinStephen saidfor whom they ever lifted
them.

About to pass through the doorwayfeeling one behindhe stood aside.

Part. The moment is now. Where then? If Socrates leave his house
todayif Judas go forth tonight. Why? That lies in space which I in time
must come toineluctably.

My will: his will that fronts me. Seas between.

A man passed out between thembowinggreeting.

--Good day againBuck Mulligan said.

The portico.

Here I watched the birds for augury. Aengus of the birds. They go
they come. Last night I flew. Easily flew. Men wondered. Street of harlots
after. A creamfruit melon he held to me. In. You will see.

--The wandering jewBuck Mulligan whispered with clown's awe. Did you
see his eye? He looked upon you to lust after you. I fear theeancient
mariner. OKinchthou art in peril. Get thee a breechpad.

Manner of Oxenford.

Day. Wheelbarrow sun over arch of bridge.

A dark back went before themstep of a parddownout by the
gatewayunder portcullis barbs.

They followed.

Offend me still. Speak on.

Kind air defined the coigns of houses in Kildare street. No birds. Frail
from the housetops two plumes of smoke ascendedplumingand in a flaw
of softness softly were blown.

Cease to strive. Peace of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic:
from wide earth an altar.

LAUD WE THE GODS
AND LET OUR CROOKED SMOKES CLIMB TO THEIR NOSTRILS
FROM OUR BLESS'D ALTARS.


* * * * * * *

The superiorthe very reverend John Conmee S.J. reset his smooth
watch in his interior pocket as he came down the presbytery steps. Five to
three. Just nice time to walk to Artane. What was that boy's name again?
Dignam. Yes. VERE DIGNUM ET IUSTUM EST. Brother Swan was the person to
see. Mr Cunningham's letter. Yes. Oblige himif possible. Good practical
catholic: useful at mission time.


A onelegged sailorswinging himself onward by lazy jerks of his
crutchesgrowled some notes. He jerked short before the convent of the
sisters of charity and held out a peaked cap for alms towards the very
reverend John Conmee S. J. Father Conmee blessed him in the sun for his
purse heldhe knewone silver crown.

Father Conmee crossed to Mountjoy square. He thoughtbut not for
longof soldiers and sailorswhose legs had been shot off by
cannonballsending their days in some pauper wardand of cardinal
Wolsey's words: IF I HAD SERVED MY GOD AS I HAVE SERVED MY KING HE WOULD
NOT HAVE ABANDONED ME IN MY OLD DAYS. He walked by the treeshade of
sunnywinking leaves: and towards him came the wife of Mr David Sheehy

M.P.
--Very wellindeedfather. And youfather?

Father Conmee was wonderfully well indeed. He would go to Buxton
probably for the waters. And her boyswere they getting on well at
Belvedere? Was that so? Father Conmee was very glad indeed to hear that.
And Mr Sheehy himself? Still in London. The house was still sittingto be
sure it was. Beautiful weather it wasdelightful indeed. Yesit was very
probable that Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to preach. O
yes: a very great success. A wonderful man really.

Father Conmee was very glad to see the wife of Mr David Sheehy

M.P. Iooking so well and he begged to be remembered to Mr David Sheehy
M.P. Yeshe would certainly call.
--Good afternoonMrs Sheehy.

Father Conmee doffed his silk hat and smiledas he took leaveat the
jet beads of her mantilla inkshining in the sun. And smiled yet againin
going. He had cleaned his teethhe knewwith arecanut paste.

Father Conmee walked andwalkingsmiled for he thought on Father
Bernard Vaughan's droll eyes and cockney voice.

--Pilate! Wy don't you old back that owlin mob?

A zealous manhowever. Really he was. And really did great good in.
his way. Beyond a doubt. He loved Irelandhe saidand he loved the
Irish. Of good family too would one think it? Welshwere they not?

Olest he forget. That letter to father provincial.

Father Conmee stopped three little schoolboys at the corner of
Mountjoy square. Yes: they were from Belvedere. The little house. Aha.
And were they good boys at school? O. That was very good now. And what
was his name? Jack Sohan. And his name? Ger. Gallaher. And the other
little man? His name was Brunny Lynam. Othat was a very nice name to
have.

Father Conmee gave a letter from his breast to Master Brunny Lynam
and pointed to the red pillarbox at the corner of Fitzgibbon street.

--But mind you don't post yourself into the boxlittle manhe said.

The boys sixeyed Father Conmee and laughed:

--Osir.

--Welllet me see if you can post a letterFather Conmee said.


Master Brunny Lynam ran across the road and put Father Conmee's
letter to father provincial into the mouth of the bright red letterbox.
Father Conmee smiled and nodded and smiled and walked along Mountjoy
square east.

Mr Denis J Maginniprofessor of dancing &cin silk hatslate
frockcoat with silk facingswhite kerchief tietight lavender trousers
canary gloves and pointed patent bootswalking with grave deportment
most respectfully took the curbstone as he passed lady Maxwell at the
corner of Dignam's court.

Was that not Mrs M'Guinness?

Mrs M'Guinnessstatelysilverhairedbowed to Father Conmee from
the farther footpath along which she sailed. And Father Conmee smiled and
saluted. How did she do?

A fine carriage she had. Like Maryqueen of Scotssomething. And to
think that she was a pawnbroker! Wellnow! Such a ... what should he
say? ... such a queenly mien.

Father Conmee walked down Great Charles street and glanced at the
shutup free church on his left. The reverend T. R. Greene B.A. will(D.V.)
speak. The incumbent they called him. He felt it incumbent on him to say a
few words. But one should be charitable. Invincible ignorance. They acted
according to their lights.

Father Conmee turned the corner and walked along the North
Circular road. It was a wonder that there was not a tramline in such an
important thoroughfare. Surelythere ought to be.

A band of satchelled schoolboys crossed from Richmond street. All
raised untidy caps. Father Conmee greeted them more than once benignly.
Christian brother boys.

Father Conmee smelt incense on his right hand as he walked. Saint
Joseph's churchPortland row. For aged and virtuous females. Father
Conmee raised his hat to the Blessed Sacrament. Virtuous: but occasionally
they were also badtempered.

Near Aldborough house Father Conmee thought of that spendthrift
nobleman. And now it was an office or something.

Father Conmee began to walk along the North Strand road and was
saluted by Mr William Gallagher who stood in the doorway of his shop.
Father Conmee saluted Mr William Gallagher and perceived the odours
that came from baconflitches and ample cools of butter. He passed
Grogan's the Tobacconist against which newsboards leaned and told of a
dreadful catastrophe in New York. In America those things were
continually happening. Unfortunate people to die like thatunprepared.
Stillan act of perfect contrition.

Father Conmee went by Daniel Bergin's publichouse against the
window of which two unlabouring men lounged. They saluted him and
were saluted.

Father Conmee passed H. J. O'Neill's funeral establishment where
Corny Kelleher totted figures in the daybook while he chewed a blade of
hay. A constable on his beat saluted Father Conmee and Father Conmee
saluted the constable. In Youkstetter'sthe porkbutcher'sFather Conmee
observed pig's puddingswhite and black and redlie neatly curled in
tubes.

Moored under the trees of Charleville Mall Father Conmee saw a


turfbargea towhorse with pendent heada bargeman with a hat of dirty
straw seated amidshipssmoking and staring at a branch of poplar above
him. It was idyllic: and Father Conmee reflected on the providence of the
Creator who had made turf to be in bogs whence men might dig it out and
bring it to town and hamlet to make fires in the houses of poor people.

On Newcomen bridge the very reverend John Conmee S.J. of saint
Francis Xavier's churchupper Gardiner streetstepped on to an outward
bound tram.

Off an inward bound tram stepped the reverend Nicholas Dudley

C. C. of saint Agatha's churchnorth William streeton to Newcomen
bridge.
At Newcomen bridge Father Conmee stepped into an outward bound
tram for he disliked to traverse on foot the dingy way past Mud Island.


Father Conmee sat in a corner of the tramcara blue ticket tucked
with care in the eye of one plump kid glovewhile four shillingsa
sixpence and five pennies chuted from his other plump glovepalm into his
purse. Passing the ivy church he reflected that the ticket inspector
usually made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket.
The solemnity of the occupants of the car seemed to Father Conmee
excessive for a journey so short and cheap. Father Conmee liked cheerful
decorum.


It was a peaceful day. The gentleman with the glasses opposite Father
Conmee had finished explaining and looked down. His wifeFather
Conmee supposed. A tiny yawn opened the mouth of the wife of the gentleman
with the glasses. She raised her small gloved fistyawned ever so gently
tiptapping her small gloved fist on her opening mouth and smiled tinily
sweetly.


Father Conmee perceived her perfume in the car. He perceived also
that the awkward man at the other side of her was sitting on the edge of
the seat.


Father Conmee at the altarrails placed the host with difficulty in the
mouth of the awkward old man who had the shaky head.


At Annesley bridge the tram halted andwhen it was about to goan
old woman rose suddenly from her place to alight. The conductor pulled
the bellstrap to stay the car for her. She passed out with her basket and
a marketnet: and Father Conmee saw the conductor help her and net and
basket down: and Father Conmee thought thatas she had nearly passed
the end of the penny fareshe was one of those good souls who had always
to be told twice BLESS YOUMY CHILDthat they have been absolvedPRAY
FOR ME. But they had so many worries in lifeso many carespoor
creatures.


From the hoardings Mr Eugene Stratton grimaced with thick niggerlips at
Father Conmee.


Father Conmee thought of the souls of black and brown and yellow
men and of his sermon on saint Peter Claver S.J. and the African mission
and of the propagation of the faith and of the millions of black and brown
and yellow souls that had not received the baptism of water when their last
hour came like a thief in the night. That book by the Belgian jesuitLE
NOMBRE DES ELUSseemed to Father Conmee a reasonable plea. Those were
millions of human souls created by God in His Own likeness to whom the
faith had not (D.V.) been brought. But they were God's soulscreated by
God. It seemed to Father Conmee a pity that they should all be losta
wasteif one might say.



At the Howth road stop Father Conmee alightedwas saluted by the
conductor and saluted in his turn.

The Malahide road was quiet. It pleased Father Conmeeroad and
name. The joybells were ringing in gay Malahide. Lord Talbot de Malahide
immediate hereditary lord admiral of Malahide and the seas adjoining.
Then came the call to arms and she was maidwife and widow in one day.
Those were old worldish daysloyal times in joyous townlandsold times
in the barony.

Father Conmeewalkingthought of his little book OLD TIMES IN THE
BARONY and of the book that might be written about jesuit houses and of
Mary Rochfortdaughter of lord Molesworthfirst countess of Belvedere.

A listless ladyno more youngwalked alone the shore of lough
EnnelMaryfirst countess of Belvederelistlessly walking in the
eveningnot startled when an otter plunged. Who could know the truth?
Not the jealous lord Belvedere and not her confessor if she had not
committed adultery fullyEIACULATIO SEMINIS INTER VAS NATURALE MULIERIS
with her husband's brother? She would half confess if she had not all
sinned as women did. Only God knew and she and heher husband's brother.

Father Conmee thought of that tyrannous incontinenceneeded
however for man's race on earthand of the ways of God which were not
our ways.

Don John Conmee walked and moved in times of yore. He was
humane and honoured there. He bore in mind secrets confessed and he
smiled at smiling noble faces in a beeswaxed drawingroomceiled with full
fruit clusters. And the hands of a bride and of a bridegroomnoble to
noblewere impalmed by Don John Conmee.

It was a charming day.

The lychgate of a field showed Father Conmee breadths of cabbages
curtseying to him with ample underleaves. The sky showed him a flock of
small white clouds going slowly down the wind. MOUTONNERthe French
said. A just and homely word.

Father Conmeereading his officewatched a flock of muttoning
clouds over Rathcoffey. His thinsocked ankles were tickled by the stubble
of Clongowes field. He walked therereading in the eveningand heard the
cries of the boys' lines at their playyoung cries in the quiet evening.
He was their rector: his reign was mild.

Father Conmee drew off his gloves and took his rededged breviary out.
An ivory bookmark told him the page.

Nones. He should have read that before lunch. But lady Maxwell had come.

Father Conmee read in secret PATER and AVE and crossed his breast.
DEUS IN ADIUTORIUM.

He walked calmly and read mutely the noneswalking and reading till
he came to RES in BEATI IMMACULATI: PRINCIPIUM VERBORUM TUORUM VERITAS:
IN ETERNUM OMNIA INDICIA IUSTITIAE TUAE.

A flushed young man came from a gap of a hedge and after him came
a young woman with wild nodding daisies in her hand. The young man
raised his cap abruptly: the young woman abruptly bent and with slow care
detached from her light skirt a clinging twig.

Father Conmee blessed both gravely and turned a thin page of his
breviary. SIN: PRINCIPES PERSECUTI SUNT ME GRATIS: ET A VERBIS TUIS


FORMIDAVIT COR MEUM.

* * * * *

Corny Kelleher closed his long daybook and glanced with his
drooping eye at a pine coffinlid sentried in a corner. He pulled himself
erectwent to it andspinning it on its axleviewed its shape and brass
furnishings. Chewing his blade of hay he laid the coffinlid by and came to
the doorway. There he tilted his hatbrim to give shade to his eyes and
leaned against the doorcaselooking idly out.

Father John Conmee stepped into the Dollymount tram on
Newcomen bridge.

Corny Kelleher locked his largefooted boots and gazedhis hat
downtiltedchewing his blade of hay.

Constable 57Con his beatstood to pass the time of day.

--That's a fine dayMr Kelleher.

--AyCorny Kelleher said.

--It's very closethe constable said.

Corny Kelleher sped a silent jet of hayjuice arching from his mouth
while a generous white arm from a window in Eccles street flung forth a
coin.

--What's the best news? he asked.

--I seen that particular party last eveningthe constable said with bated
breath.

* * * * *

A onelegged sailor crutched himself round MacConnell's corner
skirting Rabaiotti's icecream carand jerked himself up Eccles street.
Towards Larry O'Rourkein shirtsleeves in his doorwayhe growled
unamiably:

--FOR ENGLAND ...

He swung himself violently forward past Katey and Boody Dedalus
halted and growled:

--HOME AND BEAUTY.

J. J. O'Molloy's white careworn face was told that Mr Lambert was
in the warehouse with a visitor.
A stout lady stoppedtook a copper coin from her purse and dropped
it into the cap held out to her. The sailor grumbled thanksglanced
sourly at the unheeding windowssank his head and swung himself forward
four strides.

He halted and growled angrily:

--FOR ENGLAND ...


Two barefoot urchinssucking long liquorice laceshalted near him
gaping at his stump with their yellowslobbered mouths.


He swung himself forward in vigorous jerkshaltedlifted his head
towards a window and bayed deeply:


--HOME AND BEAUTY.


The gay sweet chirping whistling within went on a bar or twoceased.
The blind of the window was drawn aside. A card UNFURNISHED APARTMENTS
slipped from the sash and fell. A plump bare generous arm shonewas seen
held forth from a white petticoatbodice and taut shiftstraps. A woman's
hand flung forth a coin over the area railings. It fell on the path.


One of the urchins ran to itpicked it up and dropped it into the
minstrel's capsaying:


--Theresir.


* * * * *

Katey and Boody Dedalus shoved in the door of the closesteaming
kitchen.

--Did you put in the books? Boody asked.

Maggy at the range rammed down a greyish mass beneath bubbling
suds twice with her potstick and wiped her brow.

--They wouldn't give anything on themshe said.

Father Conmee walked through Clongowes fieldshis thinsocked
ankles tickled by stubble.

--Where did you try? Boody asked.
--M'Guinness's.


Boody stamped her foot and threw her satchel on the table.
--Bad cess to her big face! she cried.


Katey went to the range and peered with squinting eyes.
--What's in the pot? she asked.


--ShirtsMaggy said.
Boody cried angrily:


--Crickeyis there nothing for us to eat?
Kateylifting the kettlelid in a pad of her stained skirtasked:


--And what's in this?
A heavy fume gushed in answer.


--PeasoupMaggy said.
--Where did you get it? Katey asked.



--Sister Mary PatrickMaggy said.
The lacquey rang his bell.


--Barang!
Boody sat down at the table and said hungrily:


--Give us it here.


Maggy poured yellow thick soup from the kettle into a bowl. Katey
sitting opposite Boodysaid quietlyas her fingertip lifted to her mouth
random crumbs:

--A good job we have that much. Where's Dilly?

--Gone to meet fatherMaggy said.
Boodybreaking big chunks of bread into the yellow soupadded:


--Our father who art not in heaven.
Maggypouring yellow soup in Katey's bowlexclaimed:


--Boody! For shame!


A skiffa crumpled throwawayElijah is comingrode lightly down
the Liffeyunder Loopline bridgeshooting the rapids where water chafed
around the bridgepierssailing eastward past hulls and anchorchains
between the Customhouse old dock and George's quay.

* * * * *

The blond girl in Thornton's bedded the wicker basket with rustling
fibre. Blazes Boylan handed her the bottle swathed in pink tissue paper
and a small jar.

--Put these in firstwill you? he said.

--Yessirthe blond girl said. And the fruit on top.
--That'll dogame ballBlazes Boylan said.

She bestowed fat pears neatlyhead by tailand among them ripe
shamefaced peaches.

Blazes Boylan walked here and there in new tan shoes about the
fruitsmelling shoplifting fruitsyoung juicy crinkled and plump red
tomatoessniffing smells.

H. E. L. Y.'S filed before himtallwhitehattedpast Tangier lane
plodding towards their goal.
He turned suddenly from a chip of strawberriesdrew a gold watch
from his fob and held it at its chain's length.

--Can you send them by tram? Now?

A darkbacked figure under Merchants' arch scanned books on the
hawker's cart.
--Certainlysir. Is it in the city?



--OyesBlazes Boylan said. Ten minutes.

The blond girl handed him a docket and pencil.

--Will you write the addresssir?

Blazes Boylan at the counter wrote and pushed the docket to her.

--Send it at oncewill you? he said. It's for an invalid.

--Yessir. I willsir.

Blazes Boylan rattled merry money in his trousers' pocket.

--What's the damage? he asked.

The blond girl's slim fingers reckoned the fruits.

Blazes Boylan looked into the cut of her blouse. A young pullet. He
took a red carnation from the tall stemglass.

--This for me? he asked gallantly.

The blond girl glanced sideways at himgot up regardlesswith his tie
a bit crookedblushing.

--Yessirshe said.

Bending archly she reckoned again fat pears and blushing peaches.

Blazes Boylan looked in her blouse with more favourthe stalk of the
red flower between his smiling teeth.

--May I say a word to your telephonemissy? he asked roguishly.

* * * * *

--MA! Almidano Artifoni said.

He gazed over Stephen's shoulder at Goldsmith's knobby poll.

Two carfuls of tourists passed slowlytheir women sitting fore
gripping the handrests. Palefaces. Men's arms frankly round their stunted
forms. They looked from Trinity to the blind columned porch of the bank
of Ireland where pigeons roocoocooed.

--ANCH'IO HO AVUTO DI QUESTE IDEEAlmidano Artifoni saidQUAND' ERO
GIOVINE COME LEI. EPPOI MI SONO CONVINTO CHE IL MONDO E UNA BESTIA.
PECCATO. PERCHE LA SUA VOCE ... SAREBBE UN CESPITE DI RENDITAVIA.
INVECELEI SI SACRIFICA.

--SACRIFIZIO INCRUENTOStephen said smilingswaying his ashplant in slow
swingswong from its midpointlightly.

--SPERIAMOthe round mustachioed face said pleasantly. MADIA RETTA A
ME. CI RIFLETTA.

By the stern stone hand of Grattanbidding haltan Inchicore tram
unloaded straggling Highland soldiers of a band.

--CI RIFLETTEROStephen saidglancing down the solid trouserleg.


--MASUL SERIOEH? Almidano Artifoni said.

His heavy hand took Stephen's firmly. Human eyes. They gazed
curiously an instant and turned quickly towards a Dalkey tram.

--ECCOLOAlmidano Artifoni said in friendly haste. VENGA A TROVARMI E CI
PENSI. ADDIOCARO.

--ARRIVEDERLAMAESTROStephen saidraising his hat when his hand was
freed. E GRAZIE.

--DI CHE? Almidano Artifoni said. SCUSIEH? TANTE BELLE COSE!

Almidano Artifoniholding up a baton of rolled music as a signal
trotted on stout trousers after the Dalkey tram. In vain he trotted
signalling in vain among the rout of barekneed gillies smuggling
implements of music through Trinity gates.

* * * * *

Miss Dunne hid the Capel street library copy of THE WOMAN IN WHITE
far back in her drawer and rolled a sheet of gaudy notepaper into her
typewriter.

Too much mystery business in it. Is he in love with that oneMarion?
Change it and get another by Mary Cecil Haye.

The disk shot down the groovewobbled a whileceased and ogled
them: six.

Miss Dunne clicked on the keyboard:

--16 June 1904.

Five tallwhitehatted sandwichmen between Monypeny's corner and
the slab where Wolfe Tone's statue was noteeled themselves turning

H. E. L. Y.'S and plodded back as they had come.
Then she stared at the large poster of Marie Kendallcharming soubrette
andlistlessly lollingscribbled on the jotter sixteens and capital
esses. Mustard hair and dauby cheeks. She's not nicelookingis she? The
way she's holding up her bit of a skirt. Wonder will that fellow be at the
band tonight. If I could get that dressmaker to make a concertina skirt
like Susy Nagle's. They kick out grand. Shannon and all the boatclub
swells never took his eyes off her. Hope to goodness he won't keep me here
till seven.

The telephone rang rudely by her ear.

--Hello. Yessir. Nosir. Yessir. I'll ring them up after five. Only
those twosirfor Belfast and Liverpool. All rightsir. Then I can go
after six if you're not back. A quarter after. Yessir. Twentyseven and
six. I'll tell him. Yes: onesevensix.

She scribbled three figures on an envelope.

--Mr Boylan! Hello! That gentleman from SPORT was in looking for you.
Mr Lenehanyes. He said he'll be in the Ormond at four. Nosir. Yes
sir. I'll ring them up after five.


* * * * *

Two pink faces turned in the flare of the tiny torch.

--Who's that? Ned Lambert asked. Is that Crotty?

--Ringabella and Crosshavena voice replied groping for foothold.

--HelloJackis that yourself? Ned Lambert saidraising in salute his
pliant lath among the flickering arches. Come on. Mind your steps there.

The vesta in the clergyman's uplifted hand consumed itself in a long soft
flame and was let fall. At their feet its red speck died: and mouldy air
closed round them.

--How interesting! a refined accent said in the gloom.

--YessirNed Lambert said heartily. We are standing in the historic
council chamber of saint Mary's abbey where silken Thomas proclaimed
himself a rebel in 1534. This is the most historic spot in all Dublin.
O'Madden Burke is going to write something about it one of these days. The
old bank of Ireland was over the way till the time of the union and the
original jews' temple was here too before they built their synagogue over
in Adelaide road. You were never here beforeJackwere you?

--NoNed.

--He rode down through Dame walkthe refined accent saidif my
memory serves me. The mansion of the Kildares was in Thomas court.

--That's rightNed Lambert said. That's quite rightsir.

--If you will be so kind thenthe clergyman saidthe next time to allow
me perhaps ...

--CertainlyNed Lambert said. Bring the camera whenever you like. I'll
get those bags cleared away from the windows. You can take it from here or
from here.

In the still faint light he moved abouttapping with his lath the piled
seedbags and points of vantage on the floor.

From a long face a beard and gaze hung on a chessboard.

--I'm deeply obligedMr Lambertthe clergyman said. I won't trespass on
your valuable time ...

--You're welcomesirNed Lambert said. Drop in whenever you like. Next
weeksay. Can you see?

--Yesyes. Good afternoonMr Lambert. Very pleased to have met you.

--Pleasure is minesirNed Lambert answered.

He followed his guest to the outlet and then whirled his lath away
among the pillars. With J. J. O'Molloy he came forth slowly into Mary's
abbey where draymen were loading floats with sacks of carob and palmnut
mealO'ConnorWexford.

He stood to read the card in his hand.

--The reverend Hugh C. LoveRathcoffey. Present address: Saint
Michael'sSallins. Nice young chap he is. He's writing a book about the


Fitzgeralds he told me. He's well up in historyfaith.

The young woman with slow care detached from her light skirt a
clinging twig.

--I thought you were at a new gunpowder plotJ. J. O'Molloy said.

Ned Lambert cracked his fingers in the air.

--God! he cried. I forgot to tell him that one about the earl of Kildare
after he set fire to Cashel cathedral. You know that one? I'M BLOODY SORRY
I DID ITsays heBUT I DECLARE TO GOD I THOUGHT THE ARCHBISHOP WAS
INSIDE. He mightn't like itthough. What? GodI'll tell him anyhow.
That was the great earlthe Fitzgerald Mor. Hot members they were all of
themthe Geraldines.

The horses he passed started nervously under their slack harness. He
slapped a piebald haunch quivering near him and cried:

--Woasonny!

He turned to J. J. O'Molloy and asked:

--WellJack. What is it? What's the trouble? Wait awhile. Hold hard.

With gaping mouth and head far back he stood still andafter an
instantsneezed loudly.

--Chow! he said. Blast you!

--The dust from those sacksJ. J. O'Molloy said politely.

--NoNed Lambert gaspedI caught a ... cold night before ... blast
your soul ... night before last ... and there was a hell of a lot of
draught ...

He held his handkerchief ready for the coming ...

--I was ... Glasnevin this morning ... poor little ... what do you call
him ... Chow! ... Mother of Moses!

* * * * *

Tom Rochford took the top disk from the pile he clasped against his
claret waistcoat.

--See? he said. Say it's turn six. In heresee. Turn Now On.

He slid it into the left slot for them. It shot down the groovewobbled
a whileceasedogling them: six.

Lawyers of the pasthaughtypleadingbeheld pass from the
consolidated taxing office to Nisi Prius court Richie Goulding carrying
the costbag of GouldingCollis and Ward and heard rustling from the
admiralty division of king's bench to the court of appeal an elderly
female with false teeth smiling incredulously and a black silk skirt of
great amplitude.

--See? he said. See now the last one I put in is over here: Turns Over.
The impact. Leveragesee?

He showed them the rising column of disks on the right.


--Smart ideaNosey Flynn saidsnuffling. So a fellow coming in late can
see what turn is on and what turns are over.

--See? Tom Rochford said.

He slid in a disk for himself: and watched it shootwobbleoglestop:
four. Turn Now On.

--I'll see him now in the OrmondLenehan saidand sound him. One good
turn deserves another.

--DoTom Rochford said. Tell him I'm Boylan with impatience.

--GoodnightM'Coy said abruptly. When you two begin

Nosey Flynn stooped towards the leversnuffling at it.

--But how does it work hereTommy? he asked.

--TooralooLenehan said. See you later.

He followed M'Coy out across the tiny square of Crampton court.

--He's a herohe said simply.

--I knowM'Coy said. The drainyou mean.

--Drain? Lenehan said. It was down a manhole.

They passed Dan Lowry's musichall where Marie Kendallcharming
soubrettesmiled on them from a poster a dauby smile.

Going down the path of Sycamore street beside the Empire musichall
Lenehan showed M'Coy how the whole thing was. One of those manholes
like a bloody gaspipe and there was the poor devil stuck down in ithalf
choked with sewer gas. Down went Tom Rochford anyhowbooky's vest
and allwith the rope round him. And be damned but he got the rope round
the poor devil and the two were hauled up.

--The act of a herohe said.

At the Dolphin they halted to allow the ambulance car to gallop past
them for Jervis street.

--This wayhe saidwalking to the right. I want to pop into Lynam's to
see Sceptre's starting price. What's the time by your gold watch and
chain?

M'Coy peered into Marcus Tertius Moses' sombre officethen at
O'Neill's clock.

--After threehe said. Who's riding her?

--O. MaddenLenehan said. And a game filly she is.

While he waited in Temple bar M'Coy dodged a banana peel with
gentle pushes of his toe from the path to the gutter. Fellow might damn
easy get a nasty fall there coming along tight in the dark.

The gates of the drive opened wide to give egress to the viceregal
cavalcade.

--Even moneyLenehan said returning. I knocked against Bantam Lyons in


there going to back a bloody horse someone gave him that hasn't an
earthly. Through here.

They went up the steps and under Merchants' arch. A darkbacked
figure scanned books on the hawker's cart.

--There he isLenehan said.

--Wonder what he's buyingM'Coy saidglancing behind.

--LEOPOLDO OR THE BLOOM IS ON THE RYELenehan said.

--He's dead nuts on salesM'Coy said. I was with him one day and he
bought a book from an old one in Liffey street for two bob. There were
fine plates in it worth double the moneythe stars and the moon and
comets with long tails. Astronomy it was about.

Lenehan laughed.

--I'll tell you a damn good one about comets' tailshe said. Come over in
the sun.

They crossed to the metal bridge and went along Wellington quay by
the riverwall.

Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam came out of Mangan'slate
Fehrenbach'scarrying a pound and a half of porksteaks.

--There was a long spread out at Glencree reformatoryLenehan said
eagerly. The annual dinneryou know. Boiled shirt affair. The lord mayor
was thereVal Dillon it wasand sir Charles Cameron and Dan Dawson
spoke and there was music. Bartell d'Arcy sang and Benjamin Dollard ...

--I knowM'Coy broke in. My missus sang there once.

--Did she? Lenehan said.

A card UNFURNISHED APARTMENTS reappeared on the windowsash of
number 7 Eccles street.

He checked his tale a moment but broke out in a wheezy laugh.

--But wait till I tell youhe said. Delahunt of Camden street had the
catering and yours truly was chief bottlewasher. Bloom and the wife were
there. Lashings of stuff we put up: port wine and sherry and curacao to
which we did ample justice. Fast and furious it was. After liquids came
solids. Cold joints galore and mince pies ...

--I knowM'Coy said. The year the missus was there ...

Lenehan linked his arm warmly.

--But wait till I tell youhe said. We had a midnight lunch too after all
the jollification and when we sallied forth it was blue o'clock the
morning after the night before. Coming home it was a gorgeous winter's
night on the Featherbed Mountain. Bloom and Chris Callinan were on one
side of the car and I was with the wife on the other. We started singing
glees and duets: LOTHE EARLY BEAM OF MORNING. She was well primed with a
good load of Delahunt's port under her bellyband. Every jolt the bloody
car gave I had her bumping up against me. Hell's delights! She has a fine
pairGod bless her. Like that.

He held his caved hands a cubit from himfrowning:


--I was tucking the rug under her and settling her boa all the time. Know
what I mean?

His hands moulded ample curves of air. He shut his eyes tight in
delighthis body shrinkingand blew a sweet chirp from his lips.

--The lad stood to attention anyhowhe said with a sigh. She's a gamey
mare and no mistake. Bloom was pointing out all the stars and the comets
in the heavens to Chris Callinan and the jarvey: the great bear and
Hercules and the dragonand the whole jingbang lot. Butby GodI was
lostso to speakin the milky way. He knows them allfaith. At last she
spotted a weeny weeshy one miles away. AND WHAT STAR IS THATPOLDY? says
she. By Godshe had Bloom cornered. THAT ONEIS IT? says Chris Callinan
SURE THAT'S ONLY WHAT YOU MIGHT CALL A PINPRICK. By Godhe wasn't far
wide of the mark.

Lenehan stopped and leaned on the riverwallpanting with soft
laughter.

--I'm weakhe gasped.

M'Coy's white face smiled about it at instants and grew grave.
Lenehan walked on again. He lifted his yachtingcap and scratched his
hindhead rapidly. He glanced sideways in the sunlight at M'Coy.

--He's a cultured allroundmanBloom ishe said seriously. He's not one
of your common or garden ... you know ... There's a touch of the artist
about old Bloom.

* * * * *

Mr Bloom turned over idly pages of THE AWFUL DISCLOSURES OF MARIA
MONKthen of Aristotle's MASTERPIECE. Crooked botched print. Plates:
infants cuddled in a ball in bloodred wombs like livers of slaughtered
cows. Lots of them like that at this moment all over the world. All
butting with their skulls to get out of it. Child born every minute
somewhere. Mrs Purefoy.

He laid both books aside and glanced at the third: TALES OF THE GHETTO
by Leopold von Sacher Masoch.

--That I hadhe saidpushing it by.

The shopman let two volumes fall on the counter.

--Them are two good oneshe said.

Onions of his breath came across the counter out of his ruined
mouth. He bent to make a bundle of the other bookshugged them against
his unbuttoned waistcoat and bore them off behind the dingy curtain.

On O'Connell bridge many persons observed the grave deportment
and gay apparel of Mr Denis J Maginniprofessor of dancing &c.

Mr Bloomalonelooked at the titles. FAIR TYRANTS by James Lovebirch.
Know the kind that is. Had it? Yes.

He opened it. Thought so.

A woman's voice behind the dingy curtain. Listen: the man.


No: she wouldn't like that much. Got her it once.

He read the other title: SWEETS OF SIN. More in her line. Let us see.

He read where his finger opened.

--ALL THE DOLLARBILLS HER HUSBAND GAVE HER WERE SPENT IN THE STORES ON
WONDROUS GOWNS AND COSTLIEST FRILLIES. FOR HIM! FOR RAOUL!

Yes. This. Here. Try.

--HER MOUTH GLUED ON HIS IN A LUSCIOUS VOLUPTUOUS KISS WHILE HIS HANDS
FELT FOR THE OPULENT CURVES INSIDE HER DESHABILLE.

Yes. Take this. The end.

--YOU ARE LATEHE SPOKE HOARSELYEYING HER WITH A SUSPICIOUS GLARE.
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN THREW OFF HER SABLETRIMMED WRAPDISPLAYING HER
QUEENLY SHOULDERS AND HEAVING EMBONPOINT. AN IMPERCEPTIBLE SMILE PLAYED
ROUND HER PERFECT LIPS AS SHE TURNED TO HIM CALMLY.

Mr Bloom read again: THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN.

Warmth showered gently over himcowing his flesh. Flesh yielded
amply amid rumpled clothes: whites of eyes swooning up. His nostrils
arched themselves for prey. Melting breast ointments (FOR HIM! FOR
RAOUL!). Armpits' oniony sweat. Fishgluey slime (HER HEAVING EMBONPOINT!).
Feel! Press! Crushed! Sulphur dung of lions!

Young! Young!

An elderly femaleno more youngleft the building of the courts of
chanceryking's benchexchequer and common pleashaving heard in the
lord chancellor's court the case in lunacy of Pottertonin the admiralty
division the summonsexparte motionof the owners of the Lady Cairns
versus the owners of the barque Monain the court of appeal reservation
of judgment in the case of Harvey versus the Ocean Accident and Guarantee
Corporation.

Phlegmy coughs shook the air of the bookshopbulging out the dingy
curtains. The shopman's uncombed grey head came out and his unshaven
reddened facecoughing. He raked his throat rudelypuked phlegm on the
floor. He put his boot on what he had spatwiping his sole along itand
bentshowing a rawskinned crownscantily haired.

Mr Bloom beheld it.

Mastering his troubled breathhe said:

--I'll take this one.

The shopman lifted eyes bleared with old rheum.

--SWEETS OF SINhe saidtapping on it. That's a good one.

* * * * *

The lacquey by the door of Dillon's auctionrooms shook his handbell
twice again and viewed himself in the chalked mirror of the cabinet.

Dilly Dedalusloitering by the curbstoneheard the beats of the bell
the cries of the auctioneer within. Four and nine. Those lovely curtains.


Five shillings. Cosy curtains. Selling new at two guineas. Any advance on
five shillings? Going for five shillings.

The lacquey lifted his handbell and shook it:

--Barang!

Bang of the lastlap bell spurred the halfmile wheelmen to their sprint.

J. A. JacksonW. E. WylieA. Munro and H. T. Gahantheir stretched
necks waggingnegotiated the curve by the College library.
Mr Dedalustugging a long moustachecame round from Williams's
row. He halted near his daughter.

--It's time for youshe said.

--Stand up straight for the love of the lord JesusMr Dedalus said. Are you
trying to imitate your uncle Johnthe cornetplayerhead upon shoulder?
Melancholy God!

Dilly shrugged her shoulders. Mr Dedalus placed his hands on them
and held them back.

--Stand up straightgirlhe said. You'll get curvature of the spine.
Do you know what you look like?

He let his head sink suddenly down and forwardhunching his
shoulders and dropping his underjaw.

--Give it upfatherDilly said. All the people are looking at you.

Mr Dedalus drew himself upright and tugged again at his moustache.

--Did you get any money? Dilly asked.

--Where would I get money? Mr Dedalus said. There is no-one in Dublin
would lend me fourpence.

--You got someDilly saidlooking in his eyes.

--How do you know that? Mr Dedalus askedhis tongue in his cheek.

Mr Kernanpleased with the order he had bookedwalked boldly
along James's street.

--I know you didDilly answered. Were you in the Scotch house now?

--I was notthenMr Dedalus saidsmiling. Was it the little nuns taught
you to be so saucy? Here.

He handed her a shilling.

--See if you can do anything with thathe said.

--I suppose you got fiveDilly said. Give me more than that.

--Wait awhileMr Dedalus said threateningly. You're like the rest of
themare you? An insolent pack of little bitches since your poor mother
died. But wait awhile. You'll all get a short shrift and a long day from
me. Low blackguardism! I'm going to get rid of you. Wouldn't care if I was
stretched out stiff. He's dead. The man upstairs is dead.

He left her and walked on. Dilly followed quickly and pulled his coat.


--Wellwhat is it? he saidstopping.

The lacquey rang his bell behind their backs.

--Barang!

--Curse your bloody blatant soulMr Dedalus criedturning on him.

The lacqueyaware of commentshook the lolling clapper of his bell
but feebly:

--Bang!

Mr Dedalus stared at him.

--Watch himhe said. It's instructive. I wonder will he allow us to talk.

--You got more than thatfatherDilly said.

--I'm going to show you a little trickMr Dedalus said. I'll leave you
all where Jesus left the jews. Lookthere's all I have. I got two
shillings from Jack Power and I spent twopence for a shave for the
funeral.

He drew forth a handful of copper coinsnervously.

--Can't you look for some money somewhere? Dilly said.

Mr Dedalus thought and nodded.

--I willhe said gravely. I looked all along the gutter in O'Connell
street. I'll try this one now.

--You're very funnyDilly saidgrinning.

--HereMr Dedalus saidhanding her two pennies. Get a glass of milk for
yourself and a bun or a something. I'll be home shortly.

He put the other coins in his pocket and started to walk on.

The viceregal cavalcade passedgreeted by obsequious policemenout
of Parkgate.

--I'm sure you have another shillingDilly said.

The lacquey banged loudly.

Mr Dedalus amid the din walked offmurmuring to himself with a
pursing mincing mouth gently:

--The little nuns! Nice little things! Osure they wouldn't do anything!
Osure they wouldn't really! Is it little sister Monica!

* * * * *

From the sundial towards James's gate walked Mr Kernanpleased
with the order he had booked for Pulbrook Robertsonboldly along
James's streetpast Shackleton's offices. Got round him all right. How do
you doMr Crimmins? First ratesir. I was afraid you might be up in your
other establishment in Pimlico. How are things going? Just keeping alive.
Lovely weather we're having. Yesindeed. Good for the country. Those
farmers are always grumbling. I'll just take a thimbleful of your best


ginMr Crimmins. A small ginsir. Yessir. Terrible affair that General
Slocum explosion. Terribleterrible! A thousand casualties. And
heartrending scenes. Men trampling down women and children. Most brutal
thing. What do they say was the cause? Spontaneous combustion. Most
scandalous revelation. Not a single lifeboat would float and the firehose
all burst. What I can't understand is how the inspectors ever allowed a
boat like that ... Nowyou're talking straightMr Crimmins. You know
why? Palm oil. Is that a fact? Without a doubt. Well nowlook at that.
And America they say is the land of the free. I thought we were bad here.


I smiled at him. AMERICAI said quietlyjust like that. WHAT IS IT? THE
SWEEPINGS OF EVERY COUNTRY INCLUDING OUR OWN. ISN'T THAT TRUE? That's
a fact.


Graftmy dear sir. Wellof coursewhere there's money going there's
always someone to pick it up.


Saw him looking at my frockcoat. Dress does it. Nothing like a
dressy appearance. Bowls them over.


--HelloSimonFather Cowley said. How are things?


--HelloBobold manMr Dedalus answeredstopping.


Mr Kernan halted and preened himself before the sloping mirror of Peter
Kennedyhairdresser. Stylish coatbeyond a doubt. Scott of Dawson
street. Well worth the half sovereign I gave Neary for it. Never built
under three guineas. Fits me down to the ground. Some Kildare street club
toff had it probably. John Mulliganthe manager of the Hibernian bank
gave me a very sharp eye yesterday on Carlisle bridge as if he remembered
me.


Aham! Must dress the character for those fellows. Knight of the road.
Gentleman. And nowMr Crimminsmay we have the honour of your
custom againsir. The cup that cheers but not inebriatesas the old
saying has it.


North wall and sir John Rogerson's quaywith hulls and
anchorchainssailing westwardsailed by a skiffa crumpled throwaway
rocked on the ferrywashElijah is coming.


Mr Kernan glanced in farewell at his image. High colourof course.
Grizzled moustache. Returned Indian officer. Bravely he bore his stumpy
body forward on spatted feetsquaring his shoulders. Is that Ned
Lambert's brother over the waySam? What? Yes. He's as like it as damn
it. No. The windscreen of that motorcar in the sun there. Just a flash
like that. Damn like him.


Aham! Hot spirit of juniper juice warmed his vitals and his breath. Good
drop of ginthat was. His frocktails winked in bright sunshine to his
fat strut.


Down there Emmet was hangeddrawn and quartered. Greasy black
rope. Dogs licking the blood off the street when the lord lieutenant's
wife drove by in her noddy.


Bad times those were. Wellwell. Over and done with. Great topers
too. Fourbottle men.


Let me see. Is he buried in saint Michan's? Or nothere was a
midnight burial in Glasnevin. Corpse brought in through a secret door in
the wall. Dignam is there now. Went out in a puff. Wellwell. Better turn
down here. Make a detour.



Mr Kernan turned and walked down the slope of Watling street by
the corner of Guinness's visitors' waitingroom. Outside the Dublin
Distillers Company's stores an outside car without fare or jarvey stood
the reins knotted to the wheel. Damn dangerous thing. Some Tipperary
bosthoon endangering the lives of the citizens. Runaway horse.

Denis Breen with his tomesweary of having waited an hour in John
Henry Menton's officeled his wife over O'Connell bridgebound for the
office of Messrs Collis and Ward.

Mr Kernan approached Island street.

Times of the troubles. Must ask Ned Lambert to lend me those reminiscences
of sir Jonah Barrington. When you look back on it all now in a kind of
retrospective arrangement. Gaming at Daly's. No cardsharping then.
One of those fellows got his hand nailed to the table by a dagger.
Somewhere here lord Edward Fitzgerald escaped from major Sirr. Stables
behind Moira house.

Damn good gin that was.

Fine dashing young nobleman. Good stockof course. That ruffianthat
sham squirewith his violet gloves gave him away. Course they were on
the wrong side. They rose in dark and evil days. Fine poem that is:
Ingram. They were gentlemen. Ben Dollard does sing that ballad touchingly.
Masterly rendition.

AT THE SIEGE OF ROSS DID MY FATHER FALL.

A cavalcade in easy trot along Pembroke quay passedoutriders
leapingleaping in theirin their saddles. Frockcoats. Cream sunshades.


Mr Kernan hurried forwardblowing pursily.


His Excellency! Too bad! Just missed that by a hair. Damn it! What a pity!


* * * * *

Stephen Dedalus watched through the webbed window the lapidary's
fingers prove a timedulled chain. Dust webbed the window and the
showtrays. Dust darkened the toiling fingers with their vulture nails.
Dust slept on dull coils of bronze and silverlozenges of cinnabar
on rubiesleprous and winedark stones.

Born all in the dark wormy earthcold specks of fireevillights
shining in the darkness. Where fallen archangels flung the stars of their
brows. Muddy swinesnoutshandsroot and rootgripe and wrest them.

She dances in a foul gloom where gum bums with garlic. A
sailormanrustbeardedsips from a beaker rum and eyes her. A long and
seafed silent rut. She dancescaperswagging her sowish haunches and her
hipson her gross belly flapping a ruby egg.

Old Russell with a smeared shammy rag burnished again his gem
turned it and held it at the point of his Moses' beard. Grandfather ape
gloating on a stolen hoard.

And you who wrest old images from the burial earth? The brainsick
words of sophists: Antisthenes. A lore of drugs. Orient and immortal wheat
standing from everlasting to everlasting.


Two old women fresh from their whiff of the briny trudged through
Irishtown along London bridge roadone with a sanded tired umbrellaone
with a midwife's bag in which eleven cockles rolled.


The whirr of flapping leathern bands and hum of dynamos from the
powerhouse urged Stephen to be on. Beingless beings. Stop! Throb always
without you and the throb always within. Your heart you sing of. I between
them. Where? Between two roaring worlds where they swirlI. Shatter
themone and both. But stun myself too in the blow. Shatter me you who
can. Bawd and butcher were the words. I say! Not yet awhile. A look
around.


Yesquite true. Very large and wonderful and keeps famous time. You
say rightsir. A Monday morning'twas soindeed.


Stephen went down Bedford rowthe handle of the ash clacking
against his shoulderblade. In Clohissey's window a faded 186O print of
Heenan boxing Sayers held his eye. Staring backers with square hats stood
round the roped prizering. The heavyweights in tight loincloths proposed
gently each to other his bulbous fists. And they are throbbing: heroes'
hearts.


He turned and halted by the slanted bookcart.


--Twopence eachthe huckster said. Four for sixpence.


Tattered pages. THE IRISH BEEKEEPER. LIFE AND MIRACLES OF THE CURE' OF
ARS. POCKET GUIDE TO KILLARNEY.


I might find here one of my pawned schoolprizes. STEPHANO DEDALO
ALUMNO OPTIMOPALMAM FERENTI.


Father Conmeehaving read his little hourswalked through the
hamlet of Donnycarneymurmuring vespers.


Binding too good probably. What is this? Eighth and ninth book of
Moses. Secret of all secrets. Seal of King David. Thumbed pages: read and
read. Who has passed here before me? How to soften chapped hands.
Recipe for white wine vinegar. How to win a woman's love. For me this.
Say the following talisman three times with hands folded:


--SE EL YILO NEBRAKADA FEMININUM! AMOR ME SOLO! SANKTUS! AMEN.


Who wrote this? Charms and invocations of the most blessed abbot
Peter Salanka to all true believers divulged. As good as any other abbot's
charmsas mumbling Joachim's. Downbaldynoddleor we'll wool your wool.


--What are you doing hereStephen?


Dilly's high shoulders and shabby dress.


Shut the book quick. Don't let see.


--What are you doing? Stephen said.


A Stuart face of nonesuch Charleslank locks falling at its sides. It
glowed as she crouched feeding the fire with broken boots. I told her of
Paris. Late lieabed under a quilt of old overcoatsfingering a pinchbeck
braceletDan Kelly's token. NEBRAKADA FEMININUM.


--What have you there? Stephen asked.


--I bought it from the other cart for a pennyDilly saidlaughing



nervously. Is it any good?

My eyes they say she has. Do others see me so? Quickfar and
daring. Shadow of my mind.

He took the coverless book from her hand. Chardenal's French primer.
--What did you buy that for? he asked. To learn French?

She noddedreddening and closing tight her lips.
Show no surprise. Quite natural.

--HereStephen said. It's all right. Mind Maggy doesn't pawn it on you. I
suppose all my books are gone.

--SomeDilly said. We had to.

She is drowning. Agenbite. Save her. Agenbite. All against us. She will
drown me with hereyes and hair. Lank coils of seaweed hair around me
my heartmy soul. Salt green death.

We.

Agenbite of inwit. Inwit's agenbite.
Misery! Misery!

* * * * *

--HelloSimonFather Cowley said. How are things?
--HelloBobold manMr Dedalus answeredstopping.

They clasped hands loudly outside Reddy and Daughter's. Father
Cowley brushed his moustache often downward with a scooping hand.

--What's the best news? Mr Dedalus said.

--Why then not muchFather Cowley said. I'm barricaded upSimonwith
two men prowling around the house trying to effect an entrance.

--JollyMr Dedalus said. Who is it?
--OFather Cowley said. A certain gombeen man of our acquaintance.


--With a broken backis it? Mr Dedalus asked.


--The sameSimonFather Cowley answered. Reuben of that ilk. I'm just
waiting for Ben Dollard. He's going to say a word to long John to get him
to take those two men off. All I want is a little time.

He looked with vague hope up and down the quaya big apple bulging
in his neck.

--I knowMr Dedalus saidnodding. Poor old bockedy Ben! He's always
doing a good turn for someone. Hold hard!

He put on his glasses and gazed towards the metal bridge an instant.
--There he isby Godhe saidarse and pockets.


Ben Dollard's loose blue cutaway and square hat above large slops
crossed the quay in full gait from the metal bridge. He came towards them
at an amblescratching actively behind his coattails.

As he came near Mr Dedalus greeted:

--Hold that fellow with the bad trousers.

--Hold him nowBen Dollard said.

Mr Dedalus eyed with cold wandering scorn various points of Ben
Dollard's figure. Thenturning to Father Cowley with a nodhe muttered
sneeringly:

--That's a pretty garmentisn't itfor a summer's day?

--WhyGod eternally curse your soulBen Dollard growled furiouslyI
threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw.

He stood beside them beamingon them first and on his roomy
clothes from points of which Mr Dedalus flicked fluffsaying:

--They were made for a man in his healthBenanyhow.

--Bad luck to the jewman that made themBen Dollard said. Thanks be to
God he's not paid yet.

--And how is that BASSO PROFONDOBenjamin? Father Cowley asked.

Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrellmurmuring
glassyeyedstrode past the Kildare street club.

Ben Dollard frowned andmaking suddenly a chanter's mouthgave
forth a deep note.

--Aw! he said.

--That's the styleMr Dedalus saidnodding to its drone.

--What about that? Ben Dollard said. Not too dusty? What?

He turned to both.

--That'll doFather Cowley saidnodding also.

The reverend Hugh C. Love walked from the old chapterhouse of
saint Mary's abbey past James and Charles Kennedy'srectifiersattended
by Geraldines tall and personabletowards the Tholsel beyond the ford of
hurdles.

Ben Dollard with a heavy list towards the shopfronts led them forward
his joyful fingers in the air.

--Come along with me to the subsheriff's officehe said. I want to show
you the new beauty Rock has for a bailiff. He's a cross between Lobengula
and Lynchehaun. He's well worth seeingmind you. Come along. I saw John
Henry Menton casually in the Bodega just now and it will cost me a fall if
I don't ... Wait awhile ... We're on the right layBobbelieve you me.

--For a few days tell himFather Cowley said anxiously.

Ben Dollard halted and staredhis loud orifice opena dangling
button of his coat wagging brightbacked from its thread as he wiped away
the heavy shraums that clogged his eyes to hear aright.


--What few days? he boomed. Hasn't your landlord distrained for rent?

--He hasFather Cowley said.

--Then our friend's writ is not worth the paper it's printed onBen Dollard
said. The landlord has the prior claim. I gave him all the particulars. 29
Windsor avenue. Love is the name?

--That's rightFather Cowley said. The reverend Mr Love. He's a minister
in the country somewhere. But are you sure of that?

--You can tell Barabbas from meBen Dollard saidthat he can put that
writ where Jacko put the nuts.

He led Father Cowley boldly forwardlinked to his bulk.

--Filberts I believe they wereMr Dedalus saidas he dropped his glasses
on his coatfrontfollowing them.

* * * * *

--The youngster will be all rightMartin Cunningham saidas they passed
out of the Castleyard gate.

The policeman touched his forehead.

--God bless youMartin Cunningham saidcheerily.

He signed to the waiting jarvey who chucked at the reins and set on
towards Lord Edward street.

Bronze by goldMiss Kennedy's head by Miss Douce's head
appeared above the crossblind of the Ormond hotel.

--YesMartin Cunningham saidfingering his beard. I wrote to Father
Conmee and laid the whole case before him.

--You could try our friendMr Power suggested backward.

--Boyd? Martin Cunningham said shortly. Touch me not.

John Wyse Nolanlagging behindreading the listcame after them
quickly down Cork hill.

On the steps of the City hall Councillor Nannettidescendinghailed
Alderman Cowley and Councillor Abraham Lyon ascending.

The castle car wheeled empty into upper Exchange street.

--Look hereMartinJohn Wyse Nolan saidovertaking them at the MAIL
office. I see Bloom put his name down for five shillings.

--Quite rightMartin Cunningham saidtaking the list. And put down the
five shillings too.

--Without a second word eitherMr Power said.

--Strange but trueMartin Cunningham added.

John Wyse Nolan opened wide eyes.


--I'll say there is much kindness in the jewhe quotedelegantly.

They went down Parliament street.

--There's Jimmy HenryMr Power saidjust heading for Kavanagh's.

--RightoMartin Cunningham said. Here goes.

Outside LA MAISON CLAIRE Blazes Boylan waylaid Jack Mooney's
brother-in-lawhumpytightmaking for the liberties.


John Wyse Nolan fell back with Mr Powerwhile Martin
Cunningham took the elbow of a dapper little man in a shower of hail suit
who walked uncertainlywith hasty steps past Micky Anderson's watches.


--The assistant town clerk's corns are giving him some troubleJohn Wyse
Nolan told Mr Power.


They followed round the corner towards James Kavanagh's
winerooms. The empty castle car fronted them at rest in Essex gate. Martin
Cunninghamspeaking alwaysshowed often the list at which Jimmy Henry
did not glance.


--And long John Fanning is here tooJohn Wyse Nolan saidas large as
life.


The tall form of long John Fanning filled the doorway where he
stood.


--Good dayMr SubsheriffMartin Cunningham saidas all halted and
greeted.


Long John Fanning made no way for them. He removed his large Henry Clay
decisively and his large fierce eyes scowled intelligently over all
their faces.


--Are the conscript fathers pursuing their peaceful deliberations? he said
with rich acrid utterance to the assistant town clerk.


Hell open to christians they were havingJimmy Henry said pettishly
about their damned Irish language. Where was the marshalhe wanted to
knowto keep order in the council chamber. And old Barlow the
macebearer laid up with asthmano mace on the tablenothing in orderno
quorum evenand Hutchinsonthe lord mayorin Llandudno and little
Lorcan Sherlock doing LOCUM TENENS for him. Damned Irish language
language of our forefathers.


Long John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his lips.


Martin Cunningham spoke by turnstwirling the peak of his beardto
the assistant town clerk and the subsheriffwhile John Wyse Nolan held
his peace.


--What Dignam was that? long John Fanning asked.


Jimmy Henry made a grimace and lifted his left foot.


--Omy corns! he said plaintively. Come upstairs for goodness' sake till
I sit down somewhere. Uff! Ooo! Mind!


Testily he made room for himself beside long John Fanning's flank
and passed in and up the stairs.


--Come on upMartin Cunningham said to the subsheriff. I don't think



you knew him or perhaps you didthough.

With John Wyse Nolan Mr Power followed them in.

--Decent little soul he wasMr Power said to the stalwart back of long
John Fanning ascending towards long John Fanning in the mirror.

--Rather lowsized. Dignam of Menton's office that wasMartin
Cunningham said.

Long John Fanning could not remember him.

Clatter of horsehoofs sounded from the air.

--What's that? Martin Cunningham said.

All turned where they stood. John Wyse Nolan came down again.
From the cool shadow of the doorway he saw the horses pass Parliament
streetharness and glossy pasterns in sunlight shimmering. Gaily they
went past before his cool unfriendly eyesnot quickly. In saddles of the
leadersleaping leadersrode outriders.

--What was it? Martin Cunningham askedas they went on up the
staircase.

--The lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of IrelandJohn Wyse
Nolan answered from the stairfoot.

* * * * *

As they trod across the thick carpet Buck Mulligan whispered behind
his Panama to Haines:

--Parnell's brother. There in the corner.

They chose a small table near the windowopposite a longfaced man
whose beard and gaze hung intently down on a chessboard.

--Is that he? Haines askedtwisting round in his seat.

--YesMulligan said. That's John Howardhis brotherour city marshal.

John Howard Parnell translated a white bishop quietly and his grey
claw went up again to his forehead whereat it rested. An instant after
under its screenhis eyes looked quicklyghostbrightat his foe and
fell once more upon a working corner.

--I'll take a MELANGEHaines said to the waitress.

--Two MELANGESBuck Mulligan said. And bring us some scones and butter
and some cakes as well.

When she had gone he saidlaughing:

--We call it D.B.C. because they have damn bad cakes. Obut you missed
Dedalus on HAMLET.

Haines opened his newbought book.

--I'm sorryhe said. Shakespeare is the happy huntingground of all minds
that have lost their balance.


The onelegged sailor growled at the area of 14 Nelson street:

--ENGLAND EXPECTS ...

Buck Mulligan's primrose waistcoat shook gaily to his laughter.

--You should see himhe saidwhen his body loses its balance. Wandering
Aengus I call him.

--I am sure he has an IDEE FIXEHaines saidpinching his chin
thoughtfully with thumb and forefinger. Now I am speculating what it would
be likely to be. Such persons always have.

Buck Mulligan bent across the table gravely.

--They drove his wits astrayhe saidby visions of hell. He will never
capture the Attic note. The note of Swinburneof all poetsthe white
death and the ruddy birth. That is his tragedy. He can never be a poet.
The joy of creation ...

--Eternal punishmentHaines saidnodding curtly. I see. I tackled him
this morning on belief. There was something on his mindI saw. It's
rather interesting because professor Pokorny of Vienna makes an
interesting point out of that.

Buck Mulligan's watchful eyes saw the waitress come. He helped her
to unload her tray.

--He can find no trace of hell in ancient Irish mythHaines saidamid
the cheerful cups. The moral idea seems lackingthe sense of destinyof
retribution. Rather strange he should have just that fixed idea. Does he
write anything for your movement?

He sank two lumps of sugar deftly longwise through the whipped
cream. Buck Mulligan slit a steaming scone in two and plastered butter
over its smoking pith. He bit off a soft piece hungrily.

--Ten yearshe saidchewing and laughing. He is going to write something
in ten years.

--Seems a long way offHaines saidthoughtfully lifting his spoon.
StillI shouldn't wonder if he did after all.

He tasted a spoonful from the creamy cone of his cup.

--This is real Irish cream I take ithe said with forbearance.
I don't want to be imposed on.

Elijahskifflight crumpled throwawaysailed eastward by flanks of
ships and trawlersamid an archipelago of corksbeyond new Wapping
street past Benson's ferryand by the threemasted schooner ROSEVEAN from
Bridgwater with bricks.

* * * * *

Almidano Artifoni walked past Holles streetpast Sewell's yard.
Behind him Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrellwith
stickumbrelladustcoat danglingshunned the lamp before Mr Law Smith's
house andcrossingwalked along Merrion square. Distantly behind him a
blind stripling tapped his way by the wall of College park.

Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell walked as far as


Mr Lewis Werner's cheerful windowsthen turned and strode back along
Merrion squarehis stickumbrelladustcoat dangling.

At the corner of Wilde's house he haltedfrowned at Elijah's name
announced on the Metropolitan hallfrowned at the distant pleasance of
duke's lawn. His eyeglass flashed frowning in the sun. With ratsteeth
bared he muttered:

--COACTUS VOLUI.

He strode on for Clare streetgrinding his fierce word.

As he strode past Mr Bloom's dental windows the sway of his
dustcoat brushed rudely from its angle a slender tapping cane and swept
onwardshaving buffeted a thewless body. The blind stripling turned his
sickly face after the striding form.

--God's curse on youhe said sourlywhoever you are! You're blinder nor
I amyou bitch's bastard!

* * * * *

Opposite Ruggy O'Donohoe's Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam
pawing the pound and a half of Mangan'slate Fehrenbach'sporksteaks he
had been sent forwent along warm Wicklow street dawdling. It was too
blooming dull sitting in the parlour with Mrs Stoer and Mrs Quigley and
Mrs MacDowell and the blind down and they all at their sniffles and
sipping sups of the superior tawny sherry uncle Barney brought from
Tunney's. And they eating crumbs of the cottage fruitcakejawing the
whole blooming time and sighing.

After Wicklow lane the window of Madame Doylecourtdress
millinerstopped him. He stood looking in at the two puckers stripped to
their pelts and putting up their props. From the sidemirrors two mourning
Masters Dignam gaped silently. Myler KeoghDublin's pet lambwill meet
sergeantmajor Bennettthe Portobello bruiserfor a purse of fifty
sovereigns. Gobthat'd be a good pucking match to see. Myler Keogh
that's the chap sparring out to him with the green sash. Two bar entrance
soldiers half price. I could easy do a bunk on ma. Master Dignam on his
left turned as he turned. That's me in mourning. When is it? May the
twentysecond. Surethe blooming thing is all over. He turned to the right
and on his right Master Dignam turnedhis cap awryhis collar sticking
up. Buttoning it downhis chin liftedhe saw the image of Marie Kendall
charming soubrettebeside the two puckers. One of them mots that do be in
the packets of fags Stoer smokes that his old fellow welted hell out of
him for one time he found out.

Master Dignam got his collar down and dawdled on. The best pucker
going for strength was Fitzsimons. One puck in the wind from that fellow
would knock you into the middle of next weekman. But the best pucker
for science was Jem Corbet before Fitzsimons knocked the stuffings out of
himdodging and all.

In Grafton street Master Dignam saw a red flower in a toff's mouth
and a swell pair of kicks on him and he listening to what the drunk was
telling him and grinning all the time.

No Sandymount tram.

Master Dignam walked along Nassau streetshifted the porksteaks to
his other hand. His collar sprang up again and he tugged it down. The
blooming stud was too small for the buttonhole of the shirtblooming end


to it. He met schoolboys with satchels. I'm not going tomorrow either
stay away till Monday. He met other schoolboys. Do they notice I'm in
mourning? Uncle Barney said he'd get it into the paper tonight. Then
they'll all see it in the paper and read my name printed and pa's name.

His face got all grey instead of being red like it was and there was a
fly walking over it up to his eye. The scrunch that was when they were
screwing the screws into the coffin: and the bumps when they were bringing
it downstairs.

Pa was inside it and ma crying in the parlour and uncle Barney telling
the men how to get it round the bend. A big coffin it wasand high and
heavylooking. How was that? The last night pa was boosed he was standing
on the landing there bawling out for his boots to go out to Tunney's for
to boose more and he looked butty and short in his shirt. Never see him
again. Deaththat is. Pa is dead. My father is dead. He told me to be a
good son to ma. I couldn't hear the other things he said but I saw his
tongue and his teeth trying to say it better. Poor pa. That was Mr Dignam
my father. I hope he's in purgatory now because he went to confession to
Father Conroy on Saturday night.

* * * * *

William Humbleearl of Dudleyand lady Dudleyaccompanied by
lieutenantcolonel Heseltinedrove out after luncheon from the viceregal
lodge. In the following carriage were the honourable Mrs PagetMiss de
Courcy and the honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C. in attendance.

The cavalcade passed out by the lower gate of Phoenix park saluted
by obsequious policemen and proceeded past Kingsbridge along the
northern quays. The viceroy was most cordially greeted on his way through
the metropolis. At Bloody bridge Mr Thomas Kernan beyond the river
greeted him vainly from afar Between Queen's and Whitworth bridges lord
Dudley's viceregal carriages passed and were unsaluted by Mr Dudley
WhiteB. L.M. A.who stood on Arran quay outside Mrs M. E. White's
the pawnbroker'sat the corner of Arran street west stroking his nose
with his forefingerundecided whether he should arrive at Phibsborough
more quickly by a triple change of tram or by hailing a car or on foot
through SmithfieldConstitution hill and Broadstone terminus. In the
porch of Four Courts Richie Goulding with the costbag of Goulding
Collis and Ward saw him with surprise. Past Richmond bridge at the
doorstep of the office of Reuben J Doddsolicitoragent for the
Patriotic Insurance Companyan elderly female about to enter changed
her plan and retracing her steps by King's windows smiled credulously
on the representative of His Majesty. From its sluice in Wood quay
wall under Tom Devan's office Poddle river hung out in fealty a tongue
of liquid sewage. Above the crossblind of the Ormond hotelgold by
bronzeMiss Kennedy's head by Miss Douce's head watched and admired.
On Ormond quay Mr Simon Dedalussteering his way from the greenhouse
for the subsheriff's officestood still in midstreet and brought his
hat low. His Excellency graciously returned Mr Dedalus' greeting. From
Cahill's corner the reverend Hugh C. LoveM.A.made obeisance
unperceivedmindful of lords deputies whose hands benignant
had held of yore rich advowsons. On Grattan bridge Lenehan and M'Coy
taking leave of each otherwatched the carriages go by. Passing by Roger
Greene's office and Dollard's big red printinghouse Gerty MacDowell
carrying the Catesby's cork lino letters for her father who was laid up
knew by the style it was the lord and lady lieutenant but she couldn't see
what Her Excellency had on because the tram and Spring's big yellow
furniture van had to stop in front of her on account of its being the lord
lieutenant. Beyond Lundy Foot's from the shaded door of Kavanagh's
winerooms John Wyse Nolan smiled with unseen coldness towards the lord


lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland. The Right Honourable
William Humbleearl of DudleyG. C. V. O.passed Micky Anderson's
all times ticking watches and Henry and James's wax smartsuited
freshcheeked modelsthe gentleman HenryDERNIER CRI James. Over against
Dame gate Tom Rochford and Nosey Flynn watched the approach of the
cavalcade. Tom Rochfordseeing the eyes of lady Dudley fixed on him
took his thumbs quickly out of the pockets of his claret waistcoat and
doffed his cap to her. A charming SOUBRETTEgreat Marie Kendallwith
dauby cheeks and lifted skirt smiled daubily from her poster upon William
Humbleearl of Dudleyand upon lieutenantcolonel H. G. Heseltineand
also upon the honourable Gerald Ward A. D. C. From the window of the

D. B. C. Buck Mulligan gailyand Haines gravelygazed down on the
viceregal equipage over the shoulders of eager guestswhose mass of forms
darkened the chessboard whereon John Howard Parnell looked intently. In
Fownes's street Dilly Dedalusstraining her sight upward from
Chardenal's first French primersaw sunshades spanned and wheelspokes
spinning in the glare. John Henry Mentonfilling the doorway of
Commercial Buildingsstared from winebig oyster eyesholding a fat gold
hunter watch not looked at in his fat left hand not feeling it. Where the
foreleg of King Billy's horse pawed the air Mrs Breen plucked her
hastening husband back from under the hoofs of the outriders. She shouted
in his ear the tidings. Understandinghe shifted his tomes to his left
breast and saluted the second carriage. The honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C.
agreeably surprisedmade haste to reply. At Ponsonby's corner a jaded
white flagon H. halted and four tallhatted white flagons halted behind
himE.L.Y'Swhile outriders pranced past and carriages. Opposite
Pigott's music warerooms Mr Denis J Maginniprofessor of dancing &c
gaily apparelledgravely walkedoutpassed by a viceroy and unobserved.
By the provost's wall came jauntily Blazes Boylanstepping in tan shoes
and socks with skyblue clocks to the refrain of MY GIRL'S A YORKSHIRE
GIRL.
Blazes Boylan presented to the leaders' skyblue frontlets and high
action a skyblue tiea widebrimmed straw hat at a rakish angle and a suit
of indigo serge. His hands in his jacket pockets forgot to salute but he
offered to the three ladies the bold admiration of his eyes and the red
flower between his lips. As they drove along Nassau street His Excellency
drew the attention of his bowing consort to the programme of music which
was being discoursed in College park. Unseen brazen highland laddies
blared and drumthumped after the CORTEGE:

BUT THOUGH SHE'S A FACTORY LASS
AND WEARS NO FANCY CLOTHES.
BARAABUM.
YET I'VE A SORT OF A
YORKSHIRE RELISH FOR
MY LITTLE YORKSHIRE ROSE.
BARAABUM.


Thither of the wall the quartermile flat handicappersM. C. GreenH.
ShriftT. M. PateyC. ScaifeJ. B. JeffsG. N. MorphyF. Stevenson

C. Adderly and W. C. Huggardstarted in pursuit. Striding past Finn's
hotel Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell stared through a
fierce eyeglass across the carriages at the head of Mr M. E. Solomons in
the window of the Austro-Hungarian viceconsulate. Deep in Leinster street
by Trinity's postern a loyal king's manHornblowertouched his tallyho
cap. As the glossy horses pranced by Merrion square Master Patrick
Aloysius Dignamwaitingsaw salutes being given to the gent with the
topper and raised also his new black cap with fingers greased by
porksteak paper. His collar too sprang up. The viceroyon his way to
inaugurate the Mirus bazaar in aid of funds for Mercer's hospital
drove with his following towards Lower Mount street. He passed a blind

stripling opposite Broadbent's. In Lower Mount street a pedestrian in a
brown macintosheating dry breadpassed swiftly and unscathed across the
viceroy's path. At the Royal Canal bridgefrom his hoardingMr Eugene
Strattonhis blub lips agrinbade all comers welcome to Pembroke
township. At Haddington road corner two sanded women halted themselves
an umbrella and a bag in which eleven cockles rolled to view with wonder
the lord mayor and lady mayoress without his golden chain. On
Northumberland and Lansdowne roads His Excellency acknowledged punctually
salutes from rare male walkersthe salute of two small schoolboys at the
garden gate of the house said to have been admired by the late queen when
visiting the Irish capital with her husbandthe prince consortin 1849
and the salute of Almidano Artifoni's sturdy trousers swallowed by a
closing door.

* * * * * * *

Bronze by gold heard the hoofironssteelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn.

Chipspicking chips off rocky thumbnailchips.

Horrid! And gold flushed more.

A husky fifenote blew.

Blew. Blue bloom is on the.

Goldpinnacled hair.

A jumping rose on satiny breast of satinrose of Castile.

Trillingtrilling: Idolores.

Peep! Who's in the ... peepofgold?

Tink cried to bronze in pity.

And a callpurelong and throbbing. Longindying call.

Decoy. Soft word. But look: the bright stars fade. Notes chirruping
answer.

O rose! Castile. The morn is breaking.

Jingle jingle jaunted jingling.

Coin rang. Clock clacked.

Avowal. SONNEZ. I could. Rebound of garter. Not leave thee. Smack. LA
CLOCHE! Thigh smack. Avowal. Warm. Sweetheartgoodbye!

Jingle. Bloo.

Boomed crashing chords. When love absorbs. War! War! The tympanum.

A sail! A veil awave upon the waves.

Lost. Throstle fluted. All is lost now.

Horn. Hawhorn.

When first he saw. Alas!


Full tup. Full throb.
Warbling. Ahlure! Alluring.
Martha! Come!
Clapclap. Clipclap. Clappyclap.
Goodgod henev erheard inall.
Deaf bald Pat brought pad knife took up.
A moonlit nightcall: farfar.
I feel so sad. P. S. So lonely blooming.
Listen!
The spiked and winding cold seahorn. Have you the? Eachand for other


plash and silent roar.
Pearls: when she. Liszt's rhapsodies. Hissss.
You don't?
Did not: nono: believe: Lidlyd. With a cock with a carra.
Black. Deepsounding. DoBendo.
Wait while you wait. Hee hee. Wait while you hee.
But wait!
Low in dark middle earth. Embedded ore.
Naminedamine. Preacher is he:
All gone. All fallen.
Tinyher tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair.
Amen! He gnashed in fury.
Fro. Tofro. A baton cool protruding.
Bronzelydia by Minagold.
By bronzeby goldin oceangreen of shadow. Bloom. Old Bloom.
One rappedone tappedwith a carrawith a cock.
Pray for him! Praygood people!
His gouty fingers nakkering.
Big Benaben. Big Benben.
Last rose Castile of summer left bloom I feel so sad alone.
Pwee! Little wind piped wee.
True men. Lid Ker Cow De and Doll. Ayay. Like you men. Will lift your


tschink with tschunk.



Fff! Oo!
Where bronze from anear? Where gold from afar? Where hoofs?
Rrrpr. Kraa. Kraandl.
Then not till then. My eppripfftaph. Be pfrwritt.
Done.
Begin!
Bronze by goldmiss Douce's head by miss Kennedy's headover the


crossblind of the Ormond bar heard the viceregal hoofs go byringing
steel.
--Is that her? asked miss Kennedy.
Miss Douce said yessitting with his expearl grey and EAU DE NIL.
--Exquisite contrastmiss Kennedy said.


When all agog miss Douce said eagerly:
--Look at the fellow in the tall silk.
--Who? Where? gold asked more eagerly.
--In the second carriagemiss Douce's wet lips saidlaughing in the sun.
He's looking. Mind till I see.
She dartedbronzeto the backmost cornerflattening her face


against the pane in a halo of hurried breath.
Her wet lips tittered:
--He's killed looking back.
She laughed:
--O wept! Aren't men frightful idiots?
With sadness.
Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright lighttwining a loose hair


behind an ear. Sauntering sadlygold no moreshe twisted twined a hair.
Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a curving ear.
--It's them has the fine timessadly then she said.
A man.
Bloowho went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his breast the sweets


of sinby Wine's antiquesin memory bearing sweet sinful wordsby


Carroll's dusky battered platefor Raoul.
The boots to themthem in the barthem barmaids came. For them
unheeding him he banged on the counter his tray of chattering china. And

--There's your teashe said.


Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray down to an
upturned lithia cratesafe from eyeslow.
--What is it? loud boots unmannerly asked.
--Find outmiss Douce retortedleaving her spyingpoint.
--Your BEAUis it?


A haughty bronze replied:
--I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I hear any more of your
impertinent insolence.


--Imperthnthn thnthnthnbootssnout sniffed rudelyas he retreated as she
threatened as he had come.
Bloom.


On her flower frowning miss Douce said:
--Most aggravating that young brat is. If he doesn't conduct himself I'll
wring his ear for him a yard long.


Ladylike in exquisite contrast.
--Take no noticemiss Kennedy rejoined.
She poured in a teacup teathen back in the teapot tea. They cowered


under their reef of counterwaiting on footstoolscrates upturned
waiting for their teas to draw. They pawed their blousesboth of black
satintwo and nine a yardwaiting for their teas to drawand two and
seven.

Yesbronze from anearby gold from afarheard steel from anear
hoofs ring from afarand heard steelhoofs ringhoof ringsteel.
--Am I awfully sunburnt?


Miss bronze unbloused her neck.
--Nosaid miss Kennedy. It gets brown after. Did you try the borax with
the cherry laurel water?


Miss Douce halfstood to see her skin askance in the barmirror
gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in their midst
a shell.

--And leave it to my handsshe said.
--Try it with the glycerinemiss Kennedy advised.
Bidding her neck and hands adieu miss Douce
--Those things only bring out a rashrepliedreseated. I asked that old


fogey in Boyd's for something for my skin.
Miss Kennedypouring now a fulldrawn teagrimaced and prayed:
--Odon't remind me of him for mercy' sake!
--But wait till I tell youmiss Douce entreated.
Sweet tea miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two



ears with little fingers.

--Nodon'tshe cried.

--I won't listenshe cried.

But Bloom?

Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone:

--For your what? says he.

Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hearto speak: but saidbut
prayed again:


--Don't let me think of him or I'll expire. The hideous old wretch! That
night in the Antient Concert Rooms.


She sipped distastefully her brewhot teaa sipsippedsweet tea.


--Here he wasmiss Douce saidcocking her bronze head three quarters
ruffling her nosewings. Hufa! Hufa!


Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from miss Kennedy's throat. Miss
Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like
a snout in quest.


--O! shriekingmiss Kennedy cried. Will you ever forget his goggle eye?


Miss Douce chimed in in deep bronze laughtershouting:


--And your other eye!


Bloowhose dark eye read Aaron Figatner's name. Why do I always
think Figather? Gathering figsI think. And Prosper Lore's huguenot name.
By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went by. Bluerobedwhite
undercome to me. God they believe she is: or goddess. Those today. I
could not see. That fellow spoke. A student. After with Dedalus' son. He
might be Mulligan. All comely virgins. That brings those rakes of fellows
in: her white.


By went his eyes. The sweets of sin. Sweet are the sweets.


Of sin.


In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blendedDouce with
Kennedy your other eye. They threw young heads backbronze gigglegold
to let freefly their laughterscreamingyour othersignals to each
otherhigh piercing notes.


Ahpantingsighingsighingahfordonetheir mirth died down.


Miss Kennedy lipped her cup againraiseddrank a sip and
gigglegiggled. Miss Doucebending over the teatrayruffled again her
nose and rolled droll fattened eyes. Again Kennygigglesstoopingher
fair pinnacles of hairstoopingher tortoise napecomb showedspluttered
out of her mouth her teachoking in tea and laughtercoughing with
chokingcrying:


--O greasy eyes! Imagine being married to a man like that! she cried. With
his bit of beard!


Douce gave full vent to a splendid yella full yell of full woman
delightjoyindignation.



--Married to the greasy nose! she yelled.

Shrillwith deep laughteraftergold after bronzethey urged each
each to peal after pealringing in changesbronzegoldgoldbronze
shrilldeepto laughter after laughter. And then laughed more. Greasy I
knows. Exhaustedbreathlesstheir shaken heads they laidbraided and
pinnacled by glossycombedagainst the counterledge. All flushed (O!)
pantingsweating (O!)all breathless.

Married to Bloomto greaseabloom.

--O saints above! miss Douce saidsighed above her jumping rose. I wished

I hadn't laughed so much. I feel all wet.

--Omiss Douce! miss Kennedy protested. You horrid thing!

And flushed yet more (you horrid!)more goldenly.

By Cantwell's offices roved Greaseabloomby Ceppi's virginsbright
of their oils. Nannetti's father hawked those things aboutwheedling at
doors as I. Religion pays. Must see him for that par. Eat first. I want.
Not yet. At fourshe said. Time ever passing. Clockhands turning. On.
Where eat? The ClarenceDolphin. On. For Raoul. Eat. If I net five
guineas with those ads. The violet silk petticoats. Not yet. The sweets
of sin.

Flushed lessstill lessgoldenly paled.

Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus. Chipspicking chips off one of his
rocky thumbnails. Chips. He strolled.

--Owelcome backmiss Douce.

He held her hand. Enjoyed her holidays?

--Tiptop.

He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor.

--Gorgeousshe said. Look at the holy show I am. Lying out on the strand
all day.

Bronze whiteness.

--That was exceedingly naughty of youMr Dedalus told her and pressed
her hand indulgently. Tempting poor simple males.

Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away.

--O go away! she said. You're very simpleI don't think.

He was.

--Well now I amhe mused. I looked so simple in the cradle they christened
me simple Simon.

--You must have been a doatymiss Douce made answer. And what did the
doctor order today?

--Well nowhe musedwhatever you say yourself. I think I'll trouble you
for some fresh water and a half glass of whisky.


Jingle.

--With the greatest alacritymiss Douce agreed.

With grace of alacrity towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and
Cochrane's she turned herself. With grace she tapped a measure of gold
whisky from her crystal keg. Forth from the skirt of his coat Mr Dedalus
brought pouch and pipe. Alacrity she served. He blew through the flue two
husky fifenotes.

--By Jovehe musedI often wanted to see the Mourne mountains. Must be
a great tonic in the air down there. But a long threatening comes at last
they say. Yes. Yes.

Yes. He fingered shreds of hairher maidenhairher mermaid'sinto
the bowl. Chips. Shreds. Musing. Mute.

None nought said nothing. Yes.

Gaily miss Douce polished a tumblertrilling:

--OIDOLORESQUEEN OF THE EASTERN SEAS!

--Was Mr Lidwell in today?

In came Lenehan. Round him peered Lenehan. Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge.
YesMr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. To Martha I must write. Buy paper.
Daly's. Girl there civil. Bloom. Old Bloom. Blue bloom is on the rye.

--He was in at lunchtimemiss Douce said.

Lenehan came forward.

--Was Mr Boylan looking for me?

He asked. She answered:

--Miss Kennedywas Mr Boylan in while I was upstairs?

She asked. Miss voice of Kennedy answereda second teacup poised
her gaze upon a page:

--No. He was not.

Miss gaze of Kennedyheardnot seenread on. Lenehan round the
sandwichbell wound his round body round.

--Peep! Who's in the corner?

No glance of Kennedy rewarding him he yet made overtures. To mind
her stops. To read only the black ones: round o and crooked ess.

Jingle jaunty jingle.

Girlgold she read and did not glance. Take no notice. She took no
notice while he read by rote a solfa fable for herplappering flatly:

--Ah fox met ah stork. Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you put your
bill down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone?

He droned in vain. Miss Douce turned to her tea aside.

He sighed aside:


--Ah me! O my!
He greeted Mr Dedalus and got a nod.
--Greetings from the famous son of a famous father.
--Who may he be? Mr Dedalus asked.
Lenehan opened most genial arms. Who?
--Who may he be? he asked. Can you ask? Stephenthe youthful bard.
Dry.
Mr Dedalusfamous fatherlaid by his dry filled pipe.
--I seehe said. I didn't recognise him for the moment. I hear he is


keeping very select company. Have you seen him lately?
He had.
--I quaffed the nectarbowl with him this very daysaid Lenehan. In


Mooney's EN VILLE and in Mooney's SUR MER. He had received the rhino for
the labour of his muse.
He smiled at bronze's teabathed lipsat listening lips and eyes:


--The ELITE of Erin hung upon his lips. The ponderous punditHugh
MacHughDublin's most brilliant scribe and editor and that minstrel boy
of the wild wet west who is known by the euphonious appellation of the
O'Madden Burke.


After an interval Mr Dedalus raised his grog and


--That must have been highly divertingsaid he. I see.


He see. He drank. With faraway mourning mountain eye. Set down


his glass.
He looked towards the saloon door.
--I see you have moved the piano.
--The tuner was in todaymiss Douce repliedtuning it for the smoking


concert and I never heard such an exquisite player.
--Is that a fact?
--Didn't hemiss Kennedy? The real classicalyou know. And blind too


poor fellow. Not twenty I'm sure he was.
--Is that a fact? Mr Dedalus said.
He drank and strayed away.
--So sad to look at his facemiss Douce condoled.
God's curse on bitch's bastard.
Tink to her pity cried a diner's bell. To the door of the bar and


diningroom came bald Patcame bothered Patcame Patwaiter of


Ormond. Lager for diner. Lager without alacrity she served.


With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan with impatiencefor
jinglejaunty blazes boy.

Upholding the lid he (who?) gazed in the coffin (coffin?) at the
oblique triple (piano!) wires. He pressed (the same who pressed
indulgently her hand)soft pedallinga triple of keys to see the
thicknesses of felt advancingto hear the muffled hammerfall in action.

Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I was
in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower bought. Are you not
happy in your home? Flower to console me and a pin cuts lo. Means
somethinglanguage of flow. Was it a daisy? Innocence that is.
Respectable girl meet after mass. Thanks awfully muchly. Wise Bloom eyed
on the door a postera swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. Smoke
mermaidscoolest whiff of all. Hair streaming: lovelorn. For some man.
For Raoul. He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a
jaunting car. It is. Again. Third time. Coincidence.

Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the bridge to Ormond
quay. Follow. Risk it. Go quick. At four. Near now. Out.

--Twopencesirthe shopgirl dared to say.

--Aha ... I was forgetting ... Excuse ...

--And four.

At four she. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. Bloo smi qui
go. Ternoon. Think you're the only pebble on the beach? Does that to all.

For men.

In drowsy silence gold bent on her page.

From the saloon a call camelong in dying. That was a tuningfork the
tuner had that he forgot that he now struck. A call again. That he now
poised that it now throbbed. You hear? It throbbedpurepurersoftly
and softlierits buzzing prongs. Longer in dying call.

Pat paid for diner's popcorked bottle: and over tumblertray and
popcorked bottle ere he went he whisperedbald and botheredwith miss

Douce.

--THE BRIGHT STARS FADE ...

A voiceless song sang from withinsinging:

-- ... THE MORN IS BREAKING.

A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive
hands. Brightly the keysall twinklinglinkedall harpsichording
called to a voice to sing the strain of dewy mornof youthof love's
leavetakinglife'slove's morn.

--THE DEWDROPS PEARL ...

Lenehan's lips over the counter lisped a low whistle of decoy.

--But look this wayhe saidrose of Castile.

Jingle jaunted by the curb and stopped.

She rose and closed her readingrose of Castile: frettedforlorn


dreamily rose.
--Did she fall or was she pushed? he asked her.


She answeredslighting:
--Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies.


Like ladyladylike.


Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloor where he
strode. Yesgold from anear by bronze from afar. Lenehan heard and knew
and hailed him:


--See the conquering hero comes.


Between the car and windowwarily walkingwent Bloom
unconquered hero. See me he might. The seat he sat on: warm. Black wary
hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal baglifted aloftsaluting.


--AND I FROM THEE ...
--I heard you were roundsaid Blazes Boylan.


He touched to fair miss Kennedy a rim of his slanted straw. She
smiled on him. But sister bronze outsmiled herpreening for him her
richer haira bosom and a rose.

Smart Boylan bespoke potions.

--What's your cry? Glass of bitter? Glass of bitterpleaseand a sloegin
for me. Wire in yet?

Not yet. At four she. Who said four?
Cowley's red lugs and bulging apple in the door of the sheriff's office.


Avoid. Goulding a chance. What is he doing in the Ormond? Car waiting.
Wait.


Hello. Where off to? Something to eat? I too was just. In here. What
Ormond? Best value in Dublin. Is that so? Diningroom. Sit tight there.
Seenot be seen. I think I'll join you. Come on. Richie led on. Bloom
followed bag. Dinner fit for a prince.

Miss Douce reached high to take a flagonstretching her satin arm
her bustthat all but burstso high.

--O! O! jerked Lenehangasping at each stretch. O!
But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph.


--Why don't you grow? asked Blazes Boylan.


Shebronzedealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his
lipslooked as it flowed (flower in his coat: who gave him?)and
syrupped with her voice:

--Fine goods in small parcels.

That is to say she. Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe.
--Here's fortuneBlazes said.


He pitched a broad coin down. Coin rang.
--Hold onsaid Lenehantill I ...
--Fortunehe wishedlifting his bubbled ale.
--Sceptre will win in a canterhe said.
--I plunged a bitsaid Boylan winking and drinking. Not on my ownyou


know. Fancy of a friend of mine.


Lenehan still drank and grinned at his tilted ale and at miss Douce's
lips that all but hummednot shutthe oceansong her lips had trilled.
Idolores. The eastern seas.
Clock whirred. Miss Kennedy passed their way (flowerwonder who


gave)bearing away teatray. Clock clacked.
Miss Douce took Boylan's coinstruck boldly the cashregister. It


clanged. Clock clacked. Fair one of Egypt teased and sorted in the till
and hummed and handed coins in change. Look to the west. A clack. For me.
--What time is that? asked Blazes Boylan. Four?
O'clock.
Lenehansmall eyes ahunger on her hummingbust ahumming


tugged Blazes Boylan's elbowsleeve.
--Let's hear the timehe said.


The bag of GouldingCollisWard led Bloom by ryebloom flowered
tables. Aimless he chose with agitated aimbald Pat attendinga table
near the door. Be near. At four. Has he forgotten? Perhaps a trick. Not
come: whet appetite. I couldn't do. Waitwait. Patwaiterwaited.

Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes.
--Go onpressed Lenehan. There's no-one. He never heard.
-- ... TO FLORA'S LIPS DID HIE.
Higha high note pealed in the treble clear.
Bronzedouce communing with her rose that sank and rose sought
Blazes Boylan's flower and eyes.
--Pleaseplease.
He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal.
--I COULD NOT LEAVE THEE ...
--Afterwitsmiss Douce promised coyly.
--Nonowurged Lenehan. SONNEZLACLOCHE! O do! There's no-one.
She looked. Quick. Miss Kenn out of earshot. Sudden bent. Two


kindling faces watched her bend.



Quavering the chords strayed from the airfound it againlost chord
and lost and found itfaltering.

--Go on! Do! SONNEZ!

Bendingshe nipped a peak of skirt above her knee. Delayed. Taunted
them stillbendingsuspendingwith wilful eyes.

--SONNEZ!

Smack. She set free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter
smackwarm against her smackable a woman's warmhosed thigh.

--LA CLOCHE! cried gleeful Lenehan. Trained by owner. No sawdust there.

She smilesmirked supercilious (wept! aren't men?)butlightward
glidingmild she smiled on Boylan.

--You're the essence of vulgarityshe in gliding said.

Boylaneyedeyed. Tossed to fat lips his chalicedrank off his chalice
tinysucking the last fat violet syrupy drops. His spellbound eyes went
afterafter her gliding head as it went down the bar by mirrorsgilded
arch for ginger alehock and claret glasses shimmeringa spiky shell
where it concertedmirroredbronze with sunnier bronze.

Yesbronze from anearby.

-- ... SWEETHEARTGOODBYE!

--I'm offsaid Boylan with impatience.

He slid his chalice brisk awaygrasped his change.

--Wait a shakebegged Lenehandrinking quickly. I wanted to tell you.

Tom Rochford ...

--Come on to blazessaid Blazes Boylangoing.

Lenehan gulped to go.

--Got the horn or what? he said. Wait. I'm coming.

He followed the hasty creaking shoes but stood by nimbly by the
thresholdsaluting formsa bulky with a slender.

--How do you doMr Dollard?

--Eh? How do? How do? Ben Dollard's vague bass answeredturning an
instant from Father Cowley's woe. He won't give you any troubleBob. Alf
Bergan will speak to the long fellow. We'll put a barleystraw in that
Judas Iscariot's ear this time.

Sighing Mr Dedalus came through the saloona finger soothing an
eyelid.

--Hohowe willBen Dollard yodled jollily. Come onSimon. Give us a
ditty. We heard the piano.

Bald Patbothered waiterwaited for drink orders. Power for Richie.
And Bloom? Let me see. Not make him walk twice. His corns. Four now.
How warm this black is. Course nerves a bit. Refracts (is it?) heat. Let
me see. Cider. Yesbottle of cider.


--What's that? Mr Dedalus said. I was only vampingman.

--Come oncome onBen Dollard called. Begone dull care. ComeBob.

He ambled Dollardbulky slopsbefore them (hold that fellow with
the: hold him now) into the saloon. He plumped him Dollard on the stool.
His gouty paws plumped chords. Plumpedstopped abrupt.

Bald Pat in the doorway met tealess gold returning. Botheredhe
wanted Power and cider. Bronze by the windowwatchedbronze from
afar.

Jingle a tinkle jaunted.

Bloom heard a jinga little sound. He's off. Light sob of breath Bloom
sighed on the silent bluehued flowers. Jingling. He's gone. Jingle. Hear.

--Love and WarBenMr Dedalus said. God be with old times.

Miss Douce's brave eyesunregardedturned from the crossblind
smitten by sunlight. Gone. Pensive (who knows?)smitten (the smiting
light)she lowered the dropblind with a sliding cord. She drew down
pensive (why did he go so quick when I?) about her bronzeover the bar
where bald stood by sister goldinexquisite contrastcontrast
inexquisite nonexquisiteslow cool dim seagreen sliding depth of shadow
EAU DE NIL.

--Poor old Goodwin was the pianist that nightFather Cowley reminded
them. There was a slight difference of opinion between himself and the
Collard grand.

There was.

--A symposium all his ownMr Dedalus said. The devil wouldn't stop him.
He was a crotchety old fellow in the primary stage of drink.

--Goddo you remember? Ben bulky Dollard saidturning from the
punished keyboard. And by Japers I had no wedding garment.

They laughed all three. He had no wed. All trio laughed. No wedding
garment.

--Our friend Bloom turned in handy that nightMr Dedalus said. Where's
my pipeby the way?

He wandered back to the bar to the lost chord pipe. Bald Pat carried
two diners' drinksRichie and Poldy. And Father Cowley laughed again.

--I saved the situationBenI think.

--You didaverred Ben Dollard. I remember those tight trousers too. That
was a brilliant ideaBob.

Father Cowley blushed to his brilliant purply lobes. He saved the
situa. Tight trou. Brilliant ide.

--I knew he was on the rockshe said. The wife was playing the piano in
the coffee palace on Saturdays for a very trifling consideration and who
was it gave me the wheeze she was doing the other business? Do you
remember? We had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap in
Keogh's gave us the number. Remember? Ben rememberedhis broad visage
wondering.


--By Godshe had some luxurious operacloaks and things there.

Mr Dedalus wandered backpipe in hand.

--Merrion square style. Balldressesby Godand court dresses. He
wouldn't take any money either. What? Any God's quantity of cocked hats
and boleros and trunkhose. What?

--AyayMr Dedalus nodded. Mrs Marion Bloom has left off clothes of all
descriptions.

Jingle jaunted down the quays. Blazes sprawled on bounding tyres.

Liver and bacon. Steak and kidney pie. Rightsir. RightPat.

Mrs Marion. Met him pike hoses. Smell of burn. Of Paul de Kock. Nice
name he.

--What's this her name was? A buxom lassy. Marion ...

--Tweedy.

--Yes. Is she alive?

--And kicking.

--She was a daughter of ...

--Daughter of the regiment.

--Yesbegad. I remember the old drummajor.

Mr Dedalus struckwhizzedlitpuffed savoury puff after

--Irish? I don't knowfaith. Is sheSimon?

Puff after stiffa puffstrongsavourycrackling.

--Buccinator muscle is ... What? ... Bit rusty ... Oshe is ... My
Irish MollyO.

He puffed a pungent plumy blast.

--From the rock of Gibraltar... all the way.

They pined in depth of ocean shadowgold by the beerpullbronze by
maraschinothoughtful all two. Mina Kennedy4 Lismore terrace
Drumcondra with Idoloresa queenDoloressilent.

Pat serveduncovered dishes. Leopold cut liverslices. As said before he
ate with relish the inner organsnutty gizzardsfried cods' roes while
Richie GouldingCollisWard ate steak and kidneysteak then kidney
bite by bite of pie he ate Bloom ate they ate.

Bloom with Gouldingmarried in silenceate. Dinners fit for princes.

By Bachelor's walk jogjaunty jingled Blazes Boylanbachelorin sun
in heatmare's glossy rump atrotwith flick of whipon bounding tyres:
sprawledwarmseatedBoylan impatienceardentbold. Horn. Have you
the? Horn. Have you the? Haw haw horn.

Over their voices Dollard bassooned attackbooming over bombarding
chords:


--WHEN LOVE ABSORBS MY ARDENT SOUL ...

Roll of Bensoulbenjamin rolled to the quivery loveshivery roofpanes.

--War! War! cried Father Cowley. You're the warrior.

--So I amBen Warrior laughed. I was thinking of your landlord. Love or
money.

He stopped. He wagged huge beardhuge face over his blunder huge.

--Sureyou'd burst the tympanum of her earmanMr Dedalus said
through smoke aromawith an organ like yours.

In bearded abundant laughter Dollard shook upon the keyboard. He
would.

--Not to mention another membraneFather Cowley added. Half time
Ben. AMOROSO MA NON TROPPO. Let me there.

Miss Kennedy served two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout. She
passed a remark. It was indeedfirst gentleman saidbeautiful weather.
They drank cool stout. Did she know where the lord lieutenant was going?
And heard steelhoofs ringhoof ring. Noshe couldn't say. But it would be
in the paper. Oshe need not trouble. No trouble. She waved about her
outspread INDEPENDENTsearchingthe lord lieutenanther pinnacles of
hair slowmovinglord lieuten. Too much troublefirst gentleman said. O
not in the least. Way he looked that. Lord lieutenant. Gold by bronze
heard iron steel.

-- ............ MY ARDENT SOUL
I CARE NOT FOROR THE MORROW.

In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. Love and War
someone is. Ben Dollard's famous. Night he ran round to us to borrow a
dress suit for that concert. Trousers tight as a drum on him. Musical
porkers. Molly did laugh when he went out. Threw herself back across the
bedscreamingkicking. With all his belongings on show. O saints above
I'm drenched! Othe women in the front row! OI never laughed so many!
Wellof course that's what gives him the base barreltone. For instance
eunuchs. Wonder who's playing. Nice touch. Must be Cowley. Musical.
Knows whatever note you play. Bad breath he haspoor chap. Stopped.

Miss DouceengagingLydia Doucebowed to suave solicitorGeorge
Lidwellgentlemanentering. Good afternoon. She gave her moist
(a lady's) hand to his firm clasp. Afternoon. Yesshe was back. To the
old dingdong again.

--Your friends are insideMr Lidwell.

George Lidwellsuavesolicitedheld a lydiahand.

Bloom ate liv as said before. Clean here at least. That chap in the
Burtongummy with gristle. No-one here: Goulding and I. Clean tables
flowersmitres of napkins. Pat to and fro. Bald Pat. Nothing to do. Best
value in Dub.

Piano again. Cowley it is. Way he sits in to itlike one together
mutual understanding. Tiresome shapers scraping fiddleseye on the
bowendsawing the celloremind you of toothache. Her high long snore.
Night we were in the box. Trombone under blowing like a grampus
between the actsother brass chap unscrewingemptying spittle.
Conductor's legs toobagstrousersjiggedy jiggedy. Do right to hide
them.


Jiggedy jingle jaunty jaunty.


Only the harp. Lovely. Gold glowering light. Girl touched it. Poop of
a lovely. Gravy's rather good fit for a. Golden ship. Erin. The harp that
once or twice. Cool hands. Ben Howththe rhododendrons. We are their
harps. I. He. Old. Young.


--AhI couldn'tmanMr Dedalus saidshylistless.


Strongly.


--Go onblast you! Ben Dollard growled. Get it out in bits.


--M'APPARISimonFather Cowley said.


Down stage he strode some pacesgravetall in afflictionhis long
arms outheld. Hoarsely the apple of his throat hoarsed softly. Softly he
sang to a dusty seascape there: A LAST FAREWELL. A headlanda shipa
sail upon the billows. Farewell. A lovely girlher veil awave upon the
wind upon the headlandwind around her.


Cowley sang:


--M'APPARI TUTT'AMOR:
IL MIO SGUARDO L'INCONTR ...


She wavedunhearing Cowleyher veilto one departingdear oneto
windlovespeeding sailreturn.


--Go onSimon.


--Ahsuremy dancing days are doneBen ... Well ...


Mr Dedalus laid his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork andsitting
touched the obedient keys.


--NoSimonFather Cowley turned. Play it in the original. One flat.


The keysobedientrose highertoldfalteredconfessedconfused.


Up stage strode Father Cowley.


--HereSimonI'll accompany youhe said. Get up.


By Graham Lemon's pineapple rockby Elvery's elephant jingly
jogged. Steakkidneylivermashedat meat fit for princes sat princes
Bloom and Goulding. Princes at meat they raised and drankPower and
cider.


Most beautiful tenor air ever writtenRichie said: SONNAMBULA. He
heard Joe Maas sing that one night. Ahwhat M'Guckin! Yes. In his way.
Choirboy style. Maas was the boy. Massboy. A lyrical tenor if you like.
Never forget it. Never.


Tenderly Bloom over liverless bacon saw the tightened features strain.
Backache he. Bright's bright eye. Next item on the programme. Paying the
piper. Pillspounded breadworth a guinea a box. Stave it off awhile.
Sings too: DOWN AMONG THE DEAD MEN. Appropriate. Kidney pie. Sweets to
the. Not making much hand of it. Best value in. Characteristic of him.
Power. Particular about his drink. Flaw in the glassfresh Vartry water.
Fecking matches from counters to save. Then squander a sovereign in dribs



and drabs. And when he's wanted not a farthing. Screwed refusing to pay
his fare. Curious types.

Never would Richie forget that night. As long as he lived: never. In
the gods of the old Royal with little Peake. And when the first note.

Speech paused on Richie's lips.

Coming out with a whopper now. Rhapsodies about damn all.

Believes his own lies. Does really. Wonderful liar. But want a good
memory.

--Which air is that? asked Leopold Bloom.

--ALL IS LOST NOW.

Richie cocked his lips apout. A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured:
all. A thrush. A throstle. His breathbirdsweetgood teeth he's
proud offluted with plaintive woe. Is lost. Rich sound. Two notes in one
there. Blackbird I heard in the hawthorn valley. Taking my motives he
twined and turned them. All most too new call is lost in all. Echo. How
sweet the answer. How is that done? All lost now. Mournful he whistled.
Fallsurrenderlost.

Bloom bent leopold earturning a fringe of doyley down under the
vase. Order. YesI remember. Lovely air. In sleep she went to him.
Innocence in the moon. Brave. Don't know their danger. Still hold her
back. Call name. Touch water. Jingle jaunty. Too late. She longed to go.
That's why. Woman. As easy stop the sea. Yes: all is lost.

--A beautiful airsaid Bloom lost Leopold. I know it well.

Never in all his life had Richie Goulding.

He knows it well too. Or he feels. Still harping on his daughter. Wise
child that knows her fatherDedalus said. Me?

Bloom askance over liverless saw. Face of the all is lost. Rollicking
Richie once. Jokes old stale now. Wagging his ear. Napkinring in his eye.
Now begging letters he sends his son with. Crosseyed Walter sir I did sir.
Wouldn't trouble only I was expecting some money. Apologise.

Piano again. Sounds better than last time I heard. Tuned probably.
Stopped again.

Dollard and Cowley still urged the lingering singer out with it.

--With itSimon.

--ItSimon.

--Ladies and gentlemenI am most deeply obliged by your kind
solicitations.

--ItSimon.

--I have no money but if you will lend me your attention I shall endeavour
to sing to you of a heart bowed down.

By the sandwichbell in screening shadow Lydiaher bronze and rose
a lady's gracegave and withheld: as in cool glaucous EAU DE NIL Mina
to tankards two her pinnacles of gold.


The harping chords of prelude closed. A chordlongdrawnexpectant
drew a voice away.

--WHEN FIRST I SAW THAT FORM ENDEARING ...

Richie turned.

--Si Dedalus' voicehe said.

Braintippedcheek touched with flamethey listened feeling that flow
endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. Bloom signed to
Patbald Pat is a waiter hard of hearingto set ajar the door of the
bar. The door of the bar. So. That will do. Patwaiterwaitedwaiting
to hearfor he was hard of hear by the door.

--SORROW FROM ME SEEMED TO DEPART.

Through the hush of air a voice sang to themlownot rainnot leaves
in murmurlike no voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem
dulcimers touching their still ears with wordsstill hearts of their each
his remembered lives. Goodgood to hear: sorrow from them each seemed to
from both depart when first they heard. When first they sawlost Richie
Poldymercy of beautyheard from a person wouldn't expect it in the
leasther first merciful lovesoft oftloved word.

Love that is singing: love's old sweet song. Bloom unwound slowly
the elastic band of his packet. Love's old sweet SONNEZ LA gold. Bloom
wound a skein round four forkfingersstretched itrelaxedand wound it
round his troubled doublefourfoldin octavegyved them fast.

--FULL OF HOPE AND ALL DELIGHTED ...

Tenors get women by the score. Increase their flow. Throw flower at
his feet. When will we meet? My head it simply. Jingle all delighted. He
can't sing for tall hats. Your head it simply swurls. Perfumed for him.
What perfume does your wife? I want to know. Jing. Stop. Knock. Last look
at mirror always before she answers the door. The hall. There? How do you?
I do well. There? What? Or? Phial of cachouskissing comfitsin her
satchel. Yes? Hands felt for the opulent.

Alas the voice rosesighingchanged: loudfullshiningproud.

--BUT ALAS'TWAS IDLE DREAMING ...

Glorious tone he has still. Cork air softer also their brogue. Silly man!
Could have made oceans of money. Singing wrong words. Wore out his
wife: now sings. But hard to tell. Only the two themselves. If he doesn't
break down. Keep a trot for the avenue. His hands and feet sing too.
Drink. Nerves overstrung. Must be abstemious to sing. Jenny Lind soup:
stocksageraw eggshalf pint of cream. For creamy dreamy.

Tenderness it welled: slowswellingfull it throbbed. That's the chat.
Hagive! Take! Throba throba pulsing proud erect.

Words? Music? No: it's what's behind.

Bloom loopedunloopednodeddisnoded.

Bloom. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in
music outin desiredark to lick flow invading. Tipping her tepping her
tapping her topping her. Tup. Pores to dilate dilating. Tup. The joy the
feel the warm the. Tup. To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes. Floodgush
flowjoygushtupthrob. Now! Language of love.


-- ... RAY OF HOPE IS ...

Beaming. Lydia for Lidwell squeak scarcely hear so ladylike the muse
unsqueaked a ray of hopk.

MARTHA it is. Coincidence. Just going to write. Lionel's song. Lovely
name you have. Can't write. Accept my little pres. Play on her
heartstrings pursestrings too. She's a. I called you naughty boy. Still
the name: Martha. How strange! Today.

The voice of Lionel returnedweaker but unwearied. It sang again to
Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to Pat open mouth ear waiting to
wait. How first he saw that form endearinghow sorrow seemed to part
how lookformword charmed him Gould Lidwellwon Pat Bloom's heart.

Wish I could see his facethough. Explain better. Why the barber in
Drago's always looked my face when I spoke his face in the glass. Still
hear it better here than in the bar though farther.

--EACH GRACEFUL LOOK ...

First night when first I saw her at Mat Dillon's in Terenure. Yellow
black lace she wore. Musical chairs. We two the last. Fate. After her.
Fate.

Round and round slow. Quick round. We two. All looked. Halt. Down she
sat. All ousted looked. Lips laughing. Yellow knees.

--CHARMED MY EYE ...

Singing. WAITING she sang. I turned her music. Full voice of perfume
of what perfume does your lilactrees. Bosom I sawboth fullthroat
warbling. First I saw. She thanked me. Why did she me? Fate. Spanishy
eyes. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in
shadow Dolores shedolores. At me. Luring. Ahalluring.

--MARTHA! AHMARTHA!

Quitting all languor Lionel cried in griefin cry of passion dominant
to love to return with deepening yet with rising chords of harmony. In cry
of lionel loneliness that she should knowmust martha feel. For only her
he waited. Where? Here there try there here all try where. Somewhere.

--CO-OMETHOU LOST ONE!
CO-OMETHOU DEAR ONE!

Alone. One love. One hope. One comfort me. Marthachestnotereturn!

--COME!

It soareda birdit held its flighta swift pure crysoar silver orb
it leaped serenespeedingsustainedto comedon't spin it out too long
long breath he breath long lifesoaring highhigh resplendentaflame
crownedhigh in the effulgence symbolistichighof the etherial bosom
highof the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about
the allthe endlessnessnessness ...

--TO ME!

Siopold!

Consumed.

Come. Well sung. All clapped. She ought to. Come. To meto himto


heryou toomeus.


--Bravo! Clapclap. Good manSimon. Clappyclapclap. Encore!
Clapclipclap clap. Sound as a bell. BravoSimon! Clapclopclap. Encore
enclapsaidcriedclapped allBen DollardLydia DouceGeorge
LidwellPatMina Kennedytwo gentlemen with two tankardsCowley
first gent with tank and bronze miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina.


Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloorsaid before.
Jingle by monuments of sir John GrayHoratio onehandled Nelson
reverend father Theobald Mathewjauntedas said before just now. Atrot
in heatheatseated. CLOCHE. SONNEZ LA. CLOCHE. SONNEZ LA. Slower the mare
went up the hill by the RotundaRutland square. Too slow for Boylan
blazes Boylanimpatience Boylanjoggled the mare.


An afterclang of Cowley's chords closeddied on the air made richer.


And Richie Goulding drank his Power and Leopold Bloom his cider
drankLidwell his Guinnesssecond gentleman said they would partake of
two more tankards if she did not mind. Miss Kennedy smirkeddisserving
coral lipsat firstat second. She did not mind.


--Seven days in jailBen Dollard saidon bread and water. Then you'd
singSimonlike a garden thrush.


Lionel Simonsingerlaughed. Father Bob Cowley played. Mina
Kennedy served. Second gentleman paid. Tom Kernan strutted in. Lydia
admiredadmired. But Bloom sang dumb.


Admiring.


Richieadmiringdescanted on that man's glorious voice. He
remembered one night long ago. Never forget that night. Si sang 'TWAS
RANK AND FAME: in Ned Lambert's 'twas. Good God he never heard in all his
life a note like that he never did THEN FALSE ONE WE HAD BETTER PART so
clear so God he never heard SINCE LOVE LIVES NOT a clinking voice lives
not ask Lambert he can tell you too.


Gouldinga flush struggling in his paletold Mr Bloomface of the
nightSi in Ned Lambert'sDedalus housesang 'TWAS RANK AND FAME.


HeMr Bloomlistened while heRichie Gouldingtold himMr
Bloomof the night heRichieheard himSi Dedalussing 'TWAS RANK AND
FAME in hisNed Lambert'shouse.


Brothers-in-law: relations. We never speak as we pass by. Rift in the
lute I think. Treats him with scorn. See. He admires him all the more. The
night Si sang. The human voicetwo tiny silky chordswonderfulmore
than all others.


That voice was a lamentation. Calmer now. It's in the silence after
you feel you hear. Vibrations. Now silent air.


Bloom ungyved his crisscrossed hands and with slack fingers plucked
the slender catgut thong. He drew and plucked. It buzzit twanged. While
Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice productionwhile Tom Kernan
harking back in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening
Father Cowleywho played a voluntarywho nodded as he played. While
big Ben Dollard talked with Simon Dedaluslightingwho nodded as he
smokedwho smoked.


Thou lost one. All songs on that theme. Yet more Bloom stretched his
string. Cruel it seems. Let people get fond of each other: lure them on.
Then tear asunder. Death. Explos. Knock on the head. Outtohelloutofthat.



Human life. Dignam. Ughthat rat's tail wriggling! Five bob I gave.
CORPUS PARADISUM. Corncrake croaker: belly like a poisoned pup. Gone.
They sing. Forgotten. I too; And one day she with. Leave her: get tired.
Suffer then. Snivel. Big spanishy eyes goggling at nothing. Her
wavyavyeavyheavyeavyevyevyhair un comb:'d.

Yet too much happy bores. He stretched moremore. Are you not
happy in your? Twang. It snapped.

Jingle into Dorset street.

Miss Douce withdrew her satiny armreproachfulpleased.

--Don't make half so freesaid shetill we are better acquainted.

George Lidwell told her really and truly: but she did not believe.

First gentleman told Mina that was so. She asked him was that so.
And second tankard told her so. That that was so.

Miss Doucemiss Lydiadid not believe: miss KennedyMinadid not
believe: George Lidwellno: miss Dou did not: the firstthe first: gent
with the tank: believenono: did notmiss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the
tank.

Better write it here. Quills in the postoffice chewed and twisted.

Bald Pat at a sign drew nigh. A pen and ink. He went. A pad. He
went. A pad to blot. He hearddeaf Pat.

--YesMr Bloom saidteasing the curling catgut line. It certainly is.
Few lines will do. My present. All that Italian florid music is. Who is
this wrote? Know the name you know better. Take out sheet notepaper
envelope: unconcerned. It's so characteristic.

--Grandest number in the whole operaGoulding said.

--It isBloom said.

Numbers it is. All music when you come to think. Two multiplied by two
divided by half is twice one. Vibrations: chords those are. One plus two
plus six is seven. Do anything you like with figures juggling. Always find
out this equal to that. Symmetry under a cemetery wall. He doesn't see my
mourning. Callous: all for his own gut. Musemathematics. And you think
you're listening to the etherial. But suppose you said it like: Martha
seven times nine minus x is thirtyfive thousand. Fall quite flat. It's on
account of the sounds it is.

Instance he's playing now. Improvising. Might be what you liketill
you hear the words. Want to listen sharp. Hard. Begin all right: then hear
chords a bit off: feel lost a bit. In and out of sacksover barrels
through wirefencesobstacle race. Time makes the tune. Question of mood
you're in. Still always nice to hear. Except scales up and downgirls
learning. Two together nextdoor neighbours. Ought to invent dummy pianos
for that. BLUMENLIED I bought for her. The name. Playing it slowa girl
night I came homethe girl. Door of the stables near Cecilia street.
Milly no taste. Queer because we bothI mean.

Bald deaf Pat brought quite flat pad ink. Pat set with ink pen quite
flat pad. Pat took plate dish knife fork. Pat went.

It was the only language Mr Dedalus said to Ben. He heard them as a
boy in RingabellaCrosshavenRingabellasinging their barcaroles.
Queenstown harbour full of Italian ships. Walkingyou knowBenin the


moonlight with those earthquake hats. Blending their voices. Godsuch
musicBen. Heard as a boy. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole.

Sour pipe removed he held a shield of hand beside his lips that cooed
a moonlight nightcallclear from aneara call from afarreplying.

Down the edge of his FREEMAN baton ranged Bloom'syour other eye
scanning for where did I see that. CallanColemanDignam Patrick.
Heigho! Heigho! Fawcett. Aha! Just I was looking ...

Hope he's not lookingcute as a rat. He held unfurled his FREEMAN.
Can't see now. Remember write Greek ees. Bloom dippedBloo mur: dear
sir. Dear Henry wrote: dear Mady. Got your lett and flow. Hell did I put?
Some pock or oth. It is utterl imposs. Underline IMPOSS. To write today.

Bore this. Bored Bloom tambourined gently with I am just reflecting
fingers on flat pad Pat brought.

On. Know what I mean. Nochange that ee. Accep my poor litt pres
enclos. Ask her no answ. Hold on. Five Dig. Two about here. Penny the
gulls. Elijah is com. Seven Davy Byrne's. Is eight about. Say half a
crown. My poor little pres: p. o. two and six. Write me a long. Do you
despise? Jinglehave you the? So excited. Why do you call me naught?
You naughty too? OMairy lost the string of her. Bye for today. Yesyes
will tell you. Want to. To keep it up. Call me that other. Other world she
wrote. My patience are exhaust. To keep it up. You must believe. Believe.
The tank. It. Is. True.

Folly am I writing? Husbands don't. That's marriage doestheir
wives. Because I'm away from. Suppose. But how? She must. Keep young.
If she found out. Card in my high grade ha. Nonot tell all. Useless
pain. If they don't see. Woman. Sauce for the gander.

A hackney carnumber three hundred and twentyfourdriver Barton James of
number one Harmony avenueDonnybrookon which sat a farea young
gentlemanstylishly dressed in an indigoblue serge suit made by
George Robert Mesiastailor and cutterof number five Eden quayand
wearing a straw hat very dressybought of John Plasto of number one
Great Brunswick streethatter. Eh? This is the jingle that joggled and
jingled. By Dlugacz' porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a
gallantbuttocked mare.

--Answering an ad? keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom.

--YesMr Bloom said. Town traveller. Nothing doingI expect.

Bloom mur: best references. But Henry wrote: it will excite me. You
know how. In haste. Henry. Greek ee. Better add postscript. What is he
playing now? Improvising. Intermezzo. P. S. The rum tum tum. How will
you pun? You punish me? Crooked skirt swingingwhack by. Tell me I want
to. Know. O. Course if I didn't I wouldn't ask. La la la ree. Trails off
there sad in minor. Why minor sad? Sign H. They like sad tail at end.

P. P. S. La la la ree. I feel so sad today. La ree. So lonely. Dee.
He blotted quick on pad of Pat. Envel. Address. Just copy out of
paper. Murmured: Messrs CallanColeman and Colimited. Henry wrote:

Miss Martha Clifford
c/o P. O.
Dolphin's Barn Lane
Dublin



Blot over the other so he can't read. There. Right. Idea prize titbit.
Something detective read off blottingpad. Payment at the rate of guinea
per col. Matcham often thinks the laughing witch. Poor Mrs Purefoy. U. P:
up.


Too poetical that about the sad. Music did that. Music hath charms.
Shakespeare said. Quotations every day in the year. To be or not to be.
Wisdom while you wait.


In Gerard's rosery of Fetter lane he walksgreyedauburn. One life is
all. One body. Do. But do.


Done anyhow. Postal orderstamp. Postoffice lower down. Walk
now. Enough. Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet them. Dislike that job.


House of mourning. Walk. Pat! Doesn't hear. Deaf beetle he is.


Car near there now. Talk. Talk. Pat! Doesn't. Settling those napkins.
Lot of ground he must cover in the day. Paint face behind on him then he'd
be two. Wish they'd sing more. Keep my mind off.


Bald Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins. Pat is a waiter hard of
his hearing. Pat is a waiter who waits while you wait. Hee hee hee hee. He
waits while you wait. Hee hee. A waiter is he. Hee hee hee hee. He waits
while you wait. While you wait if you wait he will wait while you wait.
Hee hee hee hee. Hoh. Wait while you wait.


Douce now. Douce Lydia. Bronze and rose.


She had a gorgeoussimply gorgeoustime. And look at the lovely
shell she brought.


To the end of the bar to him she bore lightly the spiked and winding
seahorn that heGeorge Lidwellsolicitormight hear.


--Listen! she bade him.


Under Tom Kernan's ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow.
Authentic fact. How Walter Bapty lost his voice. Wellsirthe husband
took him by the throat. SCOUNDRELsaid heYOU'LL SING NO MORE LOVESONGS.
He didfaithsir Tom. Bob Cowley wove. Tenors get wom. Cowley lay back.


Ahnow he heardshe holding it to his ear. Hear! He heard.


Wonderful. She held it to her own. And through the sifted light pale gold
in contrast glided. To hear.


Tap.


Bloom through the bardoor saw a shell held at their ears. He heard
more faintly that that they heardeach for herself alonethen each for
otherhearing the plash of wavesloudlya silent roar.


Bronze by a weary goldanearafarthey listened.


Her ear too is a shellthe peeping lobe there. Been to the seaside.
Lovely seaside girls. Skin tanned raw. Should have put on coldcream first
make it brown. Buttered toast. O and that lotion mustn't forget. Fever
near her mouth. Your head it simply. Hair braided over: shell with
seaweed. Why do they hide their ears with seaweed hair? And Turks the
mouthwhy? Her eyes over the sheet. Yashmak. Find the way in. A cave. No
admittance except on business.


The sea they think they hear. Singing. A roar. The blood it is. Souse



in the ear sometimes. Wellit's a sea. Corpuscle islands.


Wonderful really. So distinct. Again. George Lidwell held its murmur
hearing: then laid it bygently.


--What are the wild waves saying? he asked hersmiled.


Charmingseasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled.


Tap.


By Larry O'Rourke'sby Larrybold Larry O'Boylan swayed and
Boylan turned.


From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her tankards waiting.
Noshe was not so lonely archly miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell know.
Walks in the moonlight by the sea. Nonot alone. With whom? She nobly
answered: with a gentleman friend.


Bob Cowley's twinkling fingers in the treble played again. The
landlord has the prior. A little time. Long John. Big Ben. Lightly he
played a light bright tinkling measure for tripping ladiesarch and
smilingand for their gallantsgentlemen friends. One: oneoneone
oneone: twoonethreefour.


Seawindleavesthunderwaterscows lowingthe cattlemarket
cockshens don't crowsnakes hissss. There's music everywhere.
Ruttledge's door: ee creaking. Nothat's noise. Minuet of DON GIOVANNI
he's playing now. Court dresses of all descriptions in castle chambers
dancing. Misery. Peasants outside. Green starving faces eating
dockleaves. Nice that is. Look: looklooklooklooklook: you
look at us.


That's joyful I can feel. Never have written it. Why? My joy is other
joy. But both are joys. Yesjoy it must be. Mere fact of music shows you
are. Often thought she was in the dumps till she began to lilt. Then
know.


M'Coy valise. My wife and your wife. Squealing cat. Like tearing silk.
Tongue when she talks like the clapper of a bellows. They can't manage
men's intervals. Gap in their voices too. Fill me. I'm warmdarkopen.
Molly in QUIS EST HOMO: Mercadante. My ear against the wall to hear. Want
a woman who can deliver the goods.


Jog jig jogged stopped. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks
skyblue clocks came light to earth.


Olook we are so! Chamber music. Could make a kind of pun on
that. It is a kind of music I often thought when she. Acoustics that is.
Tinkling. Empty vessels make most noise. Because the acousticsthe
resonance changes according as the weight of the water is equal to the law
of falling water. Like those rhapsodies of Liszt'sHungariangipsyeyed.
Pearls. Drops. Rain. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Hissss. Now.
Maybe now. Before.


One rapped on a doorone tapped with a knockdid he knock Paul
de Kock with a loud proud knocker with a cock carracarracarra cock.
Cockcock.


Tap.


--QUI SDEGNOBensaid Father Cowley.


--NoBenTom Kernan interfered. THE CROPPY BOY. Our native Doric.



--Ay doBenMr Dedalus said. Good men and true.

--Dodothey begged in one.

I'll go. HerePatreturn. Come. He camehe camehe did not stay.
To me. How much?


--What key? Six sharps?


--F sharp majorBen Dollard said.


Bob Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords.


Must go prince Bloom told Richie prince. NoRichie said. Yesmust.
Got money somewhere. He's on for a razzle backache spree. Much? He
seehears lipspeech. One and nine. Penny for yourself. Here. Give him
twopence tip. Deafbothered. But perhaps he has wife and family waiting
waiting Patty come home. Hee hee hee hee. Deaf wait while they wait.


But wait. But hear. Chords dark. Lugugugubrious. Low. In a cave of
the dark middle earth. Embedded ore. Lumpmusic.


The voice of dark ageof unloveearth's fatigue made grave approach
and painfulcome from afarfrom hoary mountainscalled on good men
and true. The priest he sought. With him would he speak a word.


Tap.


Ben Dollard's voice. Base barreltone. Doing his level best to say it.
Croak of vast manless moonless womoonless marsh. Other comedown. Big
ships' chandler's business he did once. Remember: rosiny ropesships'
lanterns. Failed to the tune of ten thousand pounds. Now in the Iveagh
home. Cubicle number so and so. Number one Bass did that for him.


The priest's at home. A false priest's servant bade him welcome. Step
in. The holy father. With bows a traitor servant. Curlycues of chords.


Ruin them. Wreck their lives. Then build them cubicles to end their
days in. Hushaby. Lullaby. Diedog. Little dogdie.


The voice of warningsolemn warningtold them the youth had
entered a lonely halltold them how solemn fell his footsteps theretold
them the gloomy chamberthe vested priest sitting to shrive.


Decent soul. Bit addled now. Thinks he'll win in ANSWERSpoets'
picture puzzle. We hand you crisp five pound note. Bird sitting hatching
in a nest. Lay of the last minstrel he thought it was. See blank tee what
domestic animal? Tee dash ar most courageous mariner. Good voice he has
still. No eunuch yet with all his belongings.


Listen. Bloom listened. Richie Goulding listened. And by the door
deaf Patbald Pattipped Patlistened. The chords harped slower.


The voice of penance and of grief came slowembellishedtremulous.
Ben's contrite beard confessed. IN NOMINE DOMINIin God's name he knelt.
He beat his hand upon his breastconfessing: MEA CULPA.


Latin again. That holds them like birdlime. Priest with the
communion corpus for those women. Chap in the mortuarycoffin or
coffeyCORPUSNOMINE. Wonder where that rat is by now. Scrape.


Tap.



They listened. Tankards and miss Kennedy. George Lidwelleyelid
well expressivefullbusted satin. Kernan. Si.

The sighing voice of sorrow sang. His sins. Since Easter he had
cursed three times. You bitch's bast. And once at masstime he had gone to
play. Once by the churchyard he had passed and for his mother's rest he
had not prayed. A boy. A croppy boy.

Bronzelisteningby the beerpull gazed far away. Soulfully. Doesn't
half know I'm. Molly great dab at seeing anyone looking.

Bronze gazed far sideways. Mirror there. Is that best side of her face?
They always know. Knock at the door. Last tip to titivate.

Cockcarracarra.

What do they think when they hear music? Way to catch rattlesnakes.
Night Michael Gunn gave us the box. Tuning up. Shah of Persia liked that
best. Remind him of home sweet home. Wiped his nose in curtain too.
Custom his country perhaps. That's music too. Not as bad as it sounds.
Tootling. Brasses braying asses through uptrunks. Doublebasses helpless
gashes in their sides. Woodwinds mooing cows. Semigrand open crocodile
music hath jaws. Woodwind like Goodwin's name.

She looked fine. Her crocus dress she wore lowcutbelongings on
show. Clove her breath was always in theatre when she bent to ask a
question. Told her what Spinoza says in that book of poor papa's.
Hypnotisedlistening. Eyes like that. She bent. Chap in dresscircle
staring down into her with his operaglass for all he was worth. Beauty
of music you must hear twice. Nature woman half a look. God made the
country man the tune. Met him pike hoses. Philosophy. O rocks!

All gone. All fallen. At the siege of Ross his fatherat Gorey all his
brothers fell. To Wexfordwe are the boys of Wexfordhe would. Last of
his name and race.

I too. Last of my race. Milly young student. Wellmy fault perhaps.
No son. Rudy. Too late now. Or if not? If not? If still?

He bore no hate.

Hate. Love. Those are names. Rudy. Soon I am old. Big Ben his voice
unfolded. Great voice Richie Goulding saida flush struggling in his
paleto Bloom soon old. But when was young?

Ireland comes now. My country above the king. She listens. Who
fears to speak of nineteen four? Time to be shoving. Looked enough.

--BLESS MEFATHERDollard the croppy cried. BLESS ME AND LET ME GO.

Tap.

Bloom lookedunblessed to go. Got up to kill: on eighteen bob a
week. Fellows shell out the dibs. Want to keep your weathereye open. Those
girlsthose lovely. By the sad sea waves. Chorusgirl's romance. Letters
read out for breach of promise. From Chickabiddy's owny Mumpsypum.
Laughter in court. Henry. I never signed it. The lovely name you.

Low sank the musicair and words. Then hastened. The false priest
rustling soldier from his cassock. A yeoman captain. They know it all by
heart. The thrill they itch for. Yeoman cap.

Tap. Tap.


Thrilled she listenedbending in sympathy to hear.


Blank face. Virgin should say: or fingered only. Write something on
it: page. If not what becomes of them? Declinedespair. Keeps them young.
Even admire themselves. See. Play on her. Lip blow. Body of white woman
a flute alive. Blow gentle. Loud. Three holesall women. Goddess I didn't
see. They want it. Not too much polite. That's why he gets them. Gold in
your pocketbrass in your face. Say something. Make her hear. With look
to look. Songs without words. Mollythat hurdygurdy boy. She knew he
meant the monkey was sick. Or because so like the Spanish. Understand
animals too that way. Solomon did. Gift of nature.


Ventriloquise. My lips closed. Think in my stom. What?


Will? You? I. Want. You. To.


With hoarse rude fury the yeoman cursedswelling in apoplectic
bitch's bastard. A good thoughtboyto come. One hour's your time to
liveyour last.


Tap. Tap.


Thrill now. Pity they feel. To wipe away a tear for martyrs that want
todying todie. For all things dyingfor all things born. Poor Mrs
Purefoy. Hope she's over. Because their wombs.


A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a fence of lashes
calmlyhearing. See real beauty of the eye when she not speaks. On yonder
river. At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave (her heaving embon) red
rose rose slowly sank red rose. Heartbeats: her breath: breath that is
life. And all the tiny tiny fernfoils trembled of maidenhair.


But look. The bright stars fade. O rose! Castile. The morn. Ha.
Lidwell. For him then not for. Infatuated. I like that? See her
from here though. Popped corkssplashes of beerfrothstacks of empties.


On the smooth jutting beerpull laid Lydia handlightlyplumplyleave
it to my hands. All lost in pity for croppy. Froto: tofro: over the
polished knob (she knows his eyesmy eyesher eyes) her thumb and finger
passed in pity: passedreposed andgently touchingthen slid so
smoothlyslowly downa cool firm white enamel baton protruding through
their sliding ring.


With a cock with a carra.


Tap. Tap. Tap.


I hold this house. Amen. He gnashed in fury. Traitors swing.


The chords consented. Very sad thing. But had to be. Get out before
the end. Thanksthat was heavenly. Where's my hat. Pass by her. Can
leave that Freeman. Letter I have. Suppose she were the? No. Walk
walkwalk. Like Cashel Boylo Connoro Coylo Tisdall Maurice Tisntdall
Farrell. Waaaaaaalk.


WellI must be. Are you off? Yrfmstbyes. Blmstup. O'er ryehigh blue.
Ow. Bloom stood up. Soap feeling rather sticky behind. Must have
sweated: music. That lotionremember. Wellso long. High grade. Card
inside. Yes.


By deaf Pat in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed.


At Geneva barrack that young man died. At Passage was his body
laid. Dolor! Ohe dolores! The voice of the mournful chanter called to



dolorous prayer.

By roseby satiny bosomby the fondling handby slopsby empties
by popped corksgreeting in goingpast eyes and maidenhairbronze and
faint gold in deepseashadowwent Bloomsoft BloomI feel so lonely
Bloom.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Pray for himprayed the bass of Dollard. You who hear in peace. Breathe
a prayerdrop a teargood mengood people. He was the croppy boy.

Scaring eavesdropping boots croppy bootsboy Bloom in the Ormond
hallway heard the growls and roars of bravofat backslappingtheir boots
all treadingboots not the boots the boy. General chorus off for a swill
to wash it down. Glad I avoided.

--Come onBenSimon Dedalus cried. By Godyou're as good as ever you
were.

--Bettersaid Tomgin Kernan. Most trenchant rendition of that ballad
upon my soul and honour It is.

--Lablachesaid Father Cowley.

Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the barmightily praisefed and all
big roseateon heavyfooted feethis gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes
in the air.

Big Benaben Dollard. Big Benben. Big Benben.

Rrr.

And deepmoved allSimon trumping compassion from foghorn nose
all laughing they brought him forthBen Dollardin right good cheer.

--You're looking rubicundGeorge Lidwell said.

Miss Douce composed her rose to wait.

--Ben machreesaid Mr Dedalusclapping Ben's fat back shoulderblade.
Fit as a fiddle only he has a lot of adipose tissue concealed about his
person.

Rrrrrrrsss.

--Fat of deathSimonBen Dollard growled.

Richie rift in the lute alone sat: GouldingCollisWard. Uncertainly
he waited. Unpaid Pat too.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Miss Mina Kennedy brought near her lips to ear of tankard one.

--Mr Dollardthey murmured low.

--Dollardmurmured tankard.

Tank one believed: miss Kenn when she: that doll he was: she doll:
the tank.

He murmured that he knew the name. The name was familiar to him
that is to say. That was to say he had heard the name of. Dollardwas it?


Dollardyes.

Yesher lips said more loudlyMr Dollard. He sang that song lovely
murmured Mina. Mr Dollard. And THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER was a lovely
song. Mina loved that song. Tankard loved the song that Mina.

'Tis the last rose of summer dollard left bloom felt wind wound round
inside.

Gassy thing that cider: binding too. Wait. Postoffice near Reuben J's
one and eightpence too. Get shut of it. Dodge round by Greek street. Wish
I hadn't promised to meet. Freer in air. Music. Gets on your nerves.
Beerpull. Her hand that rocks the cradle rules the. Ben Howth. That rules
the world.

Far. Far. Far. Far.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Up the quay went Lionelleopoldnaughty Henry with letter for
Madywith sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul with met him pike hoses
went Poldy on.

Tap blind walked tapping by the tap the curbstone tappingtap by tap.

Cowleyhe stuns himself with it: kind of drunkenness. Better give
way only half way the way of a man with a maid. Instance enthusiasts. All
ears. Not lose a demisemiquaver. Eyes shut. Head nodding in time. Dotty.
You daren't budge. Thinking strictly prohibited. Always talking shop.
Fiddlefaddle about notes.

All a kind of attempt to talk. Unpleasant when it stops because you
never know exac. Organ in Gardiner street. Old Glynn fifty quid a year.
Queer up there in the cockloftalonewith stops and locks and keys.
Seated all day at the organ. Maunder on for hourstalking to himself or
the other fellow blowing the bellows. Growl angrythen shriek cursing
(want to have wadding or something in his no don't she cried)then all of
a soft sudden wee little wee little pipy wind.

Pwee! A wee little wind piped eeee. In Bloom's little wee.

--Was he? Mr Dedalus saidreturning with fetched pipe. I was with him
this morning at poor little Paddy Dignam's ...

--Aythe Lord have mercy on him.

--By the bye there's a tuningfork in there on the ...

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

--The wife has a fine voice. Or had. What? Lidwell asked.

--Othat must be the tunerLydia said to Simonlionel first I sawforgot
it when he was here.

Blind he was she told George Lidwell second I saw. And played so
exquisitelytreat to hear. Exquisite contrast: bronzelidminagold.

--Shout! Ben Dollard shoutedpouring. Sing out!

--'lldo! cried Father Cowley.

Rrrrrr.


I feel I want ...

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap

--VeryMr Dedalus saidstaring hard at a headless sardine.

Under the sandwichbell lay on a bier of bread one lastone lonelylast
sardine of summer. Bloom alone.

--Veryhe stared. The lower registerfor choice.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Bloom went by Barry's. Wish I could. Wait. That wonderworker if I
had. Twentyfour solicitors in that one house. Counted them. Litigation.
Love one another. Piles of parchment. Messrs Pick and Pocket have power
of attorney. GouldingCollisWard.

But for example the chap that wallops the big drum. His vocation:
Mickey Rooney's band. Wonder how it first struck him. Sitting at home
after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the armchair. Rehearsing his
band part. Pom. Pompedy. Jolly for the wife. Asses' skins. Welt them
through lifethen wallop after death. Pom. Wallop. Seems to be what you
call yashmak or I mean kismet. Fate.

Tap. Tap. A striplingblindwith a tapping cane came taptaptapping
by Daly's window where a mermaid hair all streaming (but he couldn't see)
blew whiffs of a mermaid (blind couldn't)mermaidcoolest whiff of all.

Instruments. A blade of grassshell of her handsthen blow. Even
comb and tissuepaper you can knock a tune out of. Molly in her shift in
Lombard street westhair down. I suppose each kind of trade made its own
don't you see? Hunter with a horn. Haw. Have you the? CLOCHE. SONNEZ LA.
Shepherd his pipe. Pwee little wee. Policeman a whistle. Locks and keys!
Sweep! Four o'clock's all's well! Sleep! All is lost now. Drum? Pompedy.
Wait. I know. Towncrierbumbailiff. Long John. Waken the dead. Pom.
Dignam. Poor little NOMINEDOMINE. Pom. It is music. I mean of course it's
all pom pom pom very much what they call DA CAPO. Still you can hear. As
we marchwe march alongmarch along. Pom.

I must really. Fff. Now if I did that at a banquet. Just a question of
custom shah of Persia. Breathe a prayerdrop a tear. All the same he must
have been a bit of a natural not to see it was a yeoman cap. Muffled up.
Wonder who was that chap at the grave in the brown macin. Othe whore
of the lane!

A frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the
day along the quay towards Mr Bloom. When first he saw that form
endearing? Yesit is. I feel so lonely. Wet night in the lane. Horn. Who
had the? Heehaw shesaw. Off her beat here. What is she? Hope she. Psst!
Any chance of your wash. Knew Molly. Had me decked. Stout lady does be
with you in the brown costume. Put you off your strokethat. Appointment
we made knowing we'd neverwell hardly ever. Too dear too near to home
sweet home. Sees medoes she? Looks a fright in the day. Face like dip.
Damn her. Owellshe has to live like the rest. Look in here.

In Lionel Marks's antique saleshop window haughty Henry Lionel
Leopold dear Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged
battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Bargain: six bob.
Might learn to play. Cheap. Let her pass. Course everything is dear if
you don't want it. That's what good salesman is. Make you buy what he
wants to sell. Chap sold me the Swedish razor he shaved me with. Wanted
to charge me for the edge he gave it. She's passing now. Six bob.


Must be the cider or perhaps the burgund.

Near bronze from anear near gold from afar they chinked their clinking
glasses allbrighteyed and gallantbefore bronze Lydia's tempting
last rose of summerrose of Castile. First LidDeCowKerDolla
fifth: LidwellSi DedalusBob CowleyKernan and big Ben Dollard.

Tap. A youth entered a lonely Ormond hall.

Bloom viewed a gallant pictured hero in Lionel Marks's window. Robert
Emmet's last words. Seven last words. Of Meyerbeer that is.

--True men like you men.

--AyayBen.

--Will lift your glass with us.

They lifted.

Tschink. Tschunk.

Tip. An unseeing stripling stood in the door. He saw not bronze. He
saw not gold. Nor Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor
Richie nor Pat. Hee hee hee hee. He did not see.

Seabloomgreaseabloom viewed last words. Softly. WHEN MY COUNTRY
TAKES HER PLACE AMONG.

Prrprr.

Must be the bur.

Fff! Oo. Rrpr.

NATIONS OF THE EARTH. No-one behind. She's passed. THEN AND NOT TILL
THEN. Tram kran kran kran. Good oppor. Coming. Krandlkrankran. I'm
sure it's the burgund. Yes. Onetwo. LET MY EPITAPH BE. Kraaaaaa.
WRITTEN. I HAVE.

Pprrpffrrppffff.

DONE.

* * * * * * *

I was just passing the time of day with old Troy of the D. M. P. at the
corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but a bloody sweep came along
and he near drove his gear into my eye. I turned around to let him have
the weight of my tongue when who should I see dodging along Stony Batter
only Joe Hynes.

--LoJoesays I. How are you blowing? Did you see that bloody
chimneysweep near shove my eye out with his brush?

--Soot's lucksays Joe. Who's the old ballocks you were talking to?

--Old Troysays Iwas in the force. I'm on two minds not to give that
fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and
ladders.

--What are you doing round those parts? says Joe.


--Devil a muchsays I. There's a bloody big foxy thief beyond by the
garrison church at the corner of Chicken lane--old Troy was just giving
me a wrinkle about him--lifted any God's quantity of tea and sugar to pay
three bob a week said he had a farm in the county Down off a
hop-of-my-thumb by the name of Moses Herzog over there near Heytesbury
street.

--Circumcised? says Joe.

--Aysays I. A bit off the top. An old plumber named Geraghty. I'm
hanging on to his taw now for the past fortnight and I can't get a penny
out of him.

--That the lay you're on now? says Joe.

--Aysays I. How are the mighty fallen! Collector of bad and doubtful
debts. But that's the most notorious bloody robber you'd meet in a day's
walk and the face on him all pockmarks would hold a shower of rain. TELL
HIMsays heI DARE HIMsays heAND I DOUBLEDARE HIM TO SEND YOU ROUND
HERE AGAIN OR IF HE DOESsays heI'LL HAVE HIM SUMMONSED UP BEFORE THE
COURTSO I WILLFOR TRADING WITHOUT A LICENCE. And he after stuffing
himself till he's fit to burst. JesusI had to laugh at the little jewy
getting his shirt out. HE DRINK ME MY TEAS. HE EAT ME MY SUGARS. BECAUSE
HE NO PAY ME MY MONEYS?

For nonperishable goods bought of Moses Herzogof 13 Saint
Kevin's parade in the city of DublinWood quay wardmerchant
hereinafter called the vendorand sold and delivered to Michael E.
Geraghtyesquireof 29 Arbour hill in the city of DublinArran quay
wardgentlemanhereinafter called the purchaservidelicetfive pounds
avoirdupois of first choice tea at three shillings and no pence per pound
avoirdupois and three stone avoirdupois of sugarcrushed crystalat
threepence per pound avoirdupoisthe said purchaser debtor to the said
vendor of one pound five shillings and sixpence sterling for value
received which amount shall be paid by said purchaser to said vendor in
weekly instalments every seven calendar days of three shillings and no
pence sterling: and the said nonperishable goods shall not be pawned or
pledged or sold or otherwise alienated by the said purchaser but shall be
and remain and be held to be the sole and exclusive property of the said
vendor to be disposed of at his good will and pleasure until the said
amount shall have been duly paid by the said purchaser to the said vendor
in the manner herein set forth as this day hereby agreed between the said
vendorhis heirssuccessorstrustees and assigns of the one part and
the said purchaserhis heirssuccessorstrustees and assigns of the
other part.

--Are you a strict t.t.? says Joe.

--Not taking anything between drinkssays I.

--What about paying our respects to our friend? says Joe.

--Who? says I. Surehe's out in John of God's off his headpoor man.

--Drinking his own stuff? says Joe.

--Aysays I. Whisky and water on the brain.

--Come around to Barney Kiernan'ssays Joe. I want to see the citizen.

--Barney mavourneen's be itsays I. Anything strange or wonderfulJoe?

--Not a wordsays Joe. I was up at that meeting in the City Arms.


---What was thatJoe? says I.

--Cattle traderssays Joeabout the foot and mouth disease. I want to
give the citizen the hard word about it.

So we went around by the Linenhall barracks and the back of the
courthouse talking of one thing or another. Decent fellow Joe when he has
it but sure like that he never has it. JesusI couldn't get over that
bloody foxy Geraghtythe daylight robber. For trading without a licence
says he.

In Inisfail the fair there lies a landthe land of holy Michan. There
rises a watchtower beheld of men afar. There sleep the mighty dead as in
life they sleptwarriors and princes of high renown. A pleasant land it
is in sooth of murmuring watersfishful streams where sport the gurnard
the plaicethe roachthe halibutthe gibbed haddockthe grilse
the dabthe brillthe flounderthe pollockthe mixed coarse fish
generally and other denizens of the aqueous kingdom too numerous to be
enumerated. In the mild breezes of the west and of the east the lofty
trees wave in different directions their firstclass foliagethe wafty
sycamorethe Lebanonian cedarthe exalted planetreethe eugenic
eucalyptus and other ornaments of the arboreal world with which that
region is thoroughly well supplied. Lovely maidens sit in close proximity
to the roots of the lovely trees singing the most lovely songs while they
play with all kinds of lovely objects as for example golden ingots
silvery fishescrans of herringsdrafts of eelscodlingscreels of
fingerlingspurple seagems and playful insects. And heroes voyage from
afar to woo themfrom Eblana to Slievemargythe peerless princes of
unfettered Munster and of Connacht the just and of smooth sleek Leinster
and of Cruahan's land and of Armagh the splendid and of the noble district
of Boyleprincesthe sons of kings.

And there rises a shining palace whose crystal glittering roof is seen by
mariners who traverse the extensive sea in barks built expressly for that
purposeand thither come all herds and fatlings and firstfruits of that
land for O'Connell Fitzsimon takes toll of thema chieftain descended
from chieftains. Thither the extremely large wains bring foison of the
fieldsflaskets of cauliflowersfloats of spinachpineapple chunks
Rangoon beansstrikes of tomatoesdrums of figsdrills of Swedes
spherical potatoes and tallies of iridescent kaleYork and Savoyand
trays of onionspearls of the earthand punnets of mushrooms and
custard marrows and fat vetches and bere and rape and red green yellow
brown russet sweet big bitter ripe pomellated apples and chips of
strawberries and sieves of gooseberriespulpy and peluriousand
strawberries fit for princes and raspberries from their canes.

I dare himsays heand I doubledare him. Come out hereGeraghty
you notorious bloody hill and dale robber!

And by that way wend the herds innumerable of bellwethers and
flushed ewes and shearling rams and lambs and stubble geese and medium
steers and roaring mares and polled calves and longwoods and storesheep
and Cuffe's prime springers and culls and sowpigs and baconhogs and the
various different varieties of highly distinguished swine and Angus
heifers and polly bulllocks of immaculate pedigree together with prime
premiated milchcows and beeves: and there is ever heard a trampling
cacklingroaringlowingbleatingbellowingrumblinggrunting
champingchewingof sheep and pigs and heavyhooved kine from
pasturelands of Lusk and Rush and Carrickmines and from the streamy vales
of Thomondfrom the M'Gillicuddy's reeks the inaccessible and lordly
Shannon the unfathomableand from the gentle declivities of the place of
the race of Kiartheir udders distended with superabundance of milk and
butts of butter and rennets of cheese and farmer's firkins and targets of


lamb and crannocks of corn and oblong eggs in great hundredsvarious in
sizethe agate with this dun.

So we turned into Barney Kiernan's and theresure enoughwas the citizen
up in the corner having a great confab with himself and that bloody
mangy mongrelGarryowenand he waiting for what the sky would drop
in the way of drink.

--There he issays Iin his gloryholewith his cruiskeen lawn and his
load of papersworking for the cause.

The bloody mongrel let a grouse out of him would give you the creeps. Be
a corporal work of mercy if someone would take the life of that
bloody dog. I'm told for a fact he ate a good part of the breeches off a
constabulary man in Santry that came round one time with a blue paper
about a licence.

--Stand and deliversays he.

--That's all rightcitizensays Joe. Friends here.

--Passfriendssays he.

Then he rubs his hand in his eye and says he:

--What's your opinion of the times?

Doing the rapparee and Rory of the hill. ButbegobJoe was equal to
the occasion.

--I think the markets are on a risesays hesliding his hand down his
fork.

So begob the citizen claps his paw on his knee and he says:

--Foreign wars is the cause of it.

And says Joesticking his thumb in his pocket:

--It's the Russians wish to tyrannise.

--Arrahgive over your bloody coddingJoesays I. I've a thirst on me I
wouldn't sell for half a crown.

--Give it a namecitizensays Joe.

--Wine of the countrysays he.

--What's yours? says Joe.

--Ditto MacAnaspeysays I.

--Three pintsTerrysays Joe. And how's the old heartcitizen? says he.

--Never betterA CHARAsays he. What Garry? Are we going to win? Eh?

And with that he took the bloody old towser by the scruff of the neck
andby Jesushe near throttled him.

The figure seated on a large boulder at the foot of a round tower
was that of a broadshouldered deepchested stronglimbed frankeyed
redhaired freelyfreckled shaggybearded widemouthed largenosed
longheaded deepvoiced barekneed brawnyhanded hairylegged ruddyfaced
sinewyarmed hero. From shoulder to shoulder he measured several ells and


his rocklike mountainous knees were coveredas was likewise the rest of
his body wherever visiblewith a strong growth of tawny prickly hair in
hue and toughness similar to the mountain gorse (ULEX EUROPEUS). The
widewinged nostrilsfrom which bristles of the same tawny hue projected
were of such capaciousness that within their cavernous obscurity the
fieldlark might easily have lodged her nest. The eyes in which a tear and
a smile strove ever for the mastery were of the dimensions of a goodsized
cauliflower. A powerful current of warm breath issued at regular intervals
from the profound cavity of his mouth while in rhythmic resonance the
loud strong hale reverberations of his formidable heart thundered
rumblingly causing the groundthe summit of the lofty tower and the still
loftier walls of the cave to vibrate and tremble.

He wore a long unsleeved garment of recently flayed oxhide reaching to the
knees in a loose kilt and this was bound about his middle by a girdle of
plaited straw and rushes. Beneath this he wore trews of deerskinroughly
stitched with gut. His nether extremities were encased in high Balbriggan
buskins dyed in lichen purplethe feet being shod with brogues of salted
cowhide laced with the windpipe of the same beast. From his girdle hung a
row of seastones which jangled at every movement of his portentous frame
and on these were graven with rude yet striking art the tribal images of
many Irish heroes and heroines of antiquityCuchulinConn of hundred
battlesNiall of nine hostagesBrian of Kincorathe ardri MalachiArt
MacMurraghShane O'NeillFather John MurphyOwen RoePatrick
SarsfieldRed Hugh O'DonnellRed Jim MacDermottSoggarth Eoghan
O'GrowneyMichael DwyerFrancy HigginsHenry Joy M'Cracken
GoliathHorace WheatleyThomas ConneffPeg Woffingtonthe Village
BlacksmithCaptain MoonlightCaptain BoycottDante Alighieri
Christopher ColumbusS. FursaS. BrendanMarshal MacMahon
CharlemagneTheobald Wolfe Tonethe Mother of the Maccabeesthe Last
of the Mohicansthe Rose of Castilethe Man for GalwayThe Man that
Broke the Bank at Monte CarloThe Man in the GapThe Woman Who
Didn'tBenjamin FranklinNapoleon BonaparteJohn L. Sullivan
CleopatraSavourneen DeelishJulius CaesarParacelsussir Thomas
LiptonWilliam TellMichelangelo HayesMuhammadthe Bride of
LammermoorPeter the HermitPeter the PackerDark RosaleenPatrick

W. ShakespeareBrian ConfuciusMurtagh GutenbergPatricio
VelasquezCaptain NemoTristan and Isoldethe first Prince of Wales
Thomas Cook and Sonthe Bold Soldier BoyArrah na PogueDick
TurpinLudwig Beethoventhe Colleen BawnWaddler HealyAngus the
CuldeeDolly MountSidney ParadeBen HowthValentine Greatrakes
Adam and EveArthur WellesleyBoss CrokerHerodotusJack the
GiantkillerGautama BuddhaLady GodivaThe Lily of KillarneyBalor
of the Evil Eyethe Queen of ShebaAcky NagleJoe NagleAlessandro
VoltaJeremiah O'Donovan RossaDon Philip O'Sullivan Beare. A
couched spear of acuminated granite rested by him while at his feet
reposed a savage animal of the canine tribe whose stertorous gasps
announced that he was sunk in uneasy slumbera supposition confirmed by
hoarse growls and spasmodic movements which his master repressed from time
to time by tranquilising blows of a mighty cudgel rudely fashioned out of
paleolithic stone.
So anyhow Terry brought the three pints Joe was standing and begob
the sight nearly left my eyes when I saw him land out a quid Oas true as
I'm telling you. A goodlooking sovereign.

--And there's more where that came fromsays he.

--Were you robbing the poorboxJoe? says I.

--Sweat of my browsays Joe. 'Twas the prudent member gave me the wheeze.

--I saw him before I met yousays Isloping around by Pill lane and
Greek street with his cod's eye counting up all the guts of the fish.


Who comes through Michan's landbedight in sable armour? O'Bloom
the son of Rory: it is he. Impervious to fear is Rory's son: he
of the prudent soul.

--For the old woman of Prince's streetsays the citizenthe subsidised
organ. The pledgebound party on the floor of the house. And look at this
blasted ragsays he. Look at thissays he. THE IRISH INDEPENDENTif you
pleasefounded by Parnell to be the workingman's friend. Listen to the
births and deaths in the IRISH ALL FOR IRELAND INDEPENDENTand I'll thank
you and the marriages.

And he starts reading them out:

--GordonBarnfield crescentExeter; Redmayne of IffleySaint Anne's on
Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son. How's thateh? Wright and
FlintVincent and Gillett to Rotha Marion daughter of Rosa and the late
George Alfred Gillett179 Clapham roadStockwellPlaywood and
Ridsdale at Saint Jude'sKensington by the very reverend Dr Forrestdean
of Worcester. Eh? Deaths. Bristowat Whitehall laneLondon: CarrStoke
Newingtonof gastritis and heart disease: Cockburnat the Moat house
Chepstow ...

--I know that fellowsays Joefrom bitter experience.

--Cockburn. Dimseywife of David Dimseylate of the admiralty: Miller
Tottenhamaged eightyfive: WelshJune 12at 35 Canning street
LiverpoolIsabella Helen. How's that for a national pressehmy brown
son! How's that for Martin Murphythe Bantry jobber?

--Ahwellsays Joehanding round the boose. Thanks be to God they had
the start of us. Drink thatcitizen.

--I willsays hehonourable person.

--HealthJoesays I. And all down the form.

Ah! Ow! Don't be talking! I was blue mouldy for the want of that
pint. Declare to God I could hear it hit the pit of my stomach with a
click.

And loas they quaffed their cup of joya godlike messenger came
swiftly inradiant as the eye of heavena comely youth and behind him
there passed an elder of noble gait and countenancebearing the sacred
scrolls of law and with him his lady wife a dame of peerless lineage
fairest of her race.

Little Alf Bergan popped in round the door and hid behind Barney's
snugsqueezed up with the laughing. And who was sitting up there in the
corner that I hadn't seen snoring drunk blind to the world only Bob Doran.
I didn't know what was up and Alf kept making signs out of the door. And
begob what was it only that bloody old pantaloon Denis Breen in his
bathslippers with two bloody big books tucked under his oxter and the wife
hotfoot after himunfortunate wretched womantrotting like a poodle. I
thought Alf would split.

--Look at himsays he. Breen. He's traipsing all round Dublin with a
postcard someone sent him with U. p: up on it to take a li ...

And he doubled up.

--Take a what? says I.

--Libel actionsays hefor ten thousand pounds.


--O hell! says I.

The bloody mongrel began to growl that'd put the fear of God in you
seeing something was up but the citizen gave him a kick in the ribs.

--BI I DHO HUSHTsays he.

--Who? says Joe.

--Breensays Alf. He was in John Henry Menton's and then he went round
to Collis and Ward's and then Tom Rochford met him and sent him round
to the subsheriff's for a lark. O GodI've a pain laughing. U. p: up. The
long fellow gave him an eye as good as a process and now the bloody old
lunatic is gone round to Green street to look for a G man.

--When is long John going to hang that fellow in Mountjoy? says Joe.

--Bergansays Bob Doranwaking up. Is that Alf Bergan?

--Yessays Alf. Hanging? Wait till I show you. HereTerrygive us a
pony. That bloody old fool! Ten thousand pounds. You should have seen long
John's eye. U. p ...

And he started laughing.

--Who are you laughing at? says Bob Doran. Is that Bergan?

--Hurry upTerry boysays Alf.

Terence O'Ryan heard him and straightway brought him a crystal
cup full of the foamy ebon ale which the noble twin brothers Bungiveagh
and Bungardilaun brew ever in their divine alevatscunning as the sons of
deathless Leda. For they garner the succulent berries of the hop and mass
and sift and bruise and brew them and they mix therewith sour juices and
bring the must to the sacred fire and cease not night or day from their
toilthose cunning brotherslords of the vat.

Then did youchivalrous Terencehand forthas to the manner born
that nectarous beverage and you offered the crystal cup to him that
thirstedthe soul of chivalryin beauty akin to the immortals.

But hethe young chief of the O'Bergan'scould ill brook to be outdone
in generous deeds but gave therefor with gracious gesture a testoon
of costliest bronze. Thereon embossed in excellent smithwork was seen the
image of a queen of regal portscion of the house of BrunswickVictoria
her nameHer Most Excellent Majestyby grace of God of the United
Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the British dominions beyond
the seaqueendefender of the faithEmpress of Indiaeven shewho
bore rulea victress over many peoplesthe wellbelovedfor they knew
and loved her from the rising of the sun to the going down thereofthe
palethe darkthe ruddy and the ethiop.

--What's that bloody freemason doingsays the citizenprowling up and
down outside?

--What's that? says Joe.

--Here you aresays Alfchucking out the rhino. Talking about hanging
I'll show you something you never saw. Hangmen's letters. Look at here.

So he took a bundle of wisps of letters and envelopes out of his pocket.


--Are you codding? says I.
--Honest injunsays Alf. Read them.
So Joe took up the letters.
--Who are you laughing at? says Bob Doran.
So I saw there was going to be a bit of a dust Bob's a queer chap


when the porter's up in him so says I just to make talk:
--How's Willy Murray those timesAlf?
--I don't knowsays Alf I saw him just now in Capel street with Paddy


Dignam. Only I was running after that ...
--You what? says Joethrowing down the letters. With who?
--With Dignamsays Alf.
--Is it Paddy? says Joe.
--Yessays Alf. Why?
--Don't you know he's dead? says Joe.
--Paddy Dignam dead! says Alf.
--Aysays Joe.
--Sure I'm after seeing him not five minutes agosays Alfas plain as a


pikestaff.
--Who's dead? says Bob Doran.
--You saw his ghost thensays JoeGod between us and harm.
--What? says Alf. Good Christonly five ... What? ... And Willy Murray


with himthe two of them there near whatdoyoucallhim's ... What?
Dignam dead?
--What about Dignam? says Bob Doran. Who's talking about ...?


--Dead! says Alf. He's no more dead than you are.
--Maybe sosays Joe. They took the liberty of burying him this morning
anyhow.


--Paddy? says Alf.
--Aysays Joe. He paid the debt of natureGod be merciful to him.
--Good Christ! says Alf.
Begob he was what you might call flabbergasted.
In the darkness spirit hands were felt to flutter and when prayer by


tantras had been directed to the proper quarter a faint but increasing
luminosity of ruby light became gradually visiblethe apparition of the
etheric double being particularly lifelike owing to the discharge of jivic
rays from the crown of the head and face. Communication was effected
through the pituitary body and also by means of the orangefiery and
scarlet rays emanating from the sacral region and solar plexus. Questioned
by his earthname as to his whereabouts in the heavenworld he stated that


he was now on the path of pr l ya or return but was still submitted to
trial at the hands of certain bloodthirsty entities on the lower astral
levels. In reply to a question as to his first sensations in the great
divide beyond he stated that previously he had seen as in a glass darkly
but that those who had passed over had summit possibilities of atmic
development opened up to them. Interrogated as to whether life there
resembled our experience in the flesh he stated that he had heard from
more favoured beings now in the spirit that their abodes were equipped
with every modern home comfort such as talafanaalavatarhatakalda
wataklasat and that the highest adepts were steeped in waves of volupcy
of the very purest nature. Having requested a quart of buttermilk this was
brought and evidently afforded relief. Asked if he had any message
for the living he exhorted all who were still at the wrong side of Maya
to acknowledge the true path for it was reported in devanic circles that
Mars and Jupiter were out for mischief on the eastern angle where the
ram has power. It was then queried whether there were any special
desires on the part of the defunct and the reply was: WE GREET YOU
FRIENDS OF EARTHWHO ARE STILL IN THE BODY. MIND C. K. DOESN'T PILE IT
ON. It was ascertained that the reference was to Mr Cornelius Kelleher
manager of Messrs H. J. O'Neill's popular funeral establishmenta
personal friend of the defunctwho had been responsible for the carrying
out of the interment arrangements. Before departing he requested that it
should be told to his dear son Patsy that the other boot which he had been
looking for was at present under the commode in the return room and that
the pair should be sent to Cullen's to be soled only as the heels were
still good. He stated that this had greatly perturbed his peace of mind in
the other region and earnestly requested that his desire should be made
known.

Assurances were given that the matter would be attended to and it was
intimated that this had given satisfaction.

He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignamsun of our morning. Fleet
was his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. WailBanbawith
your wind: and wailO oceanwith your whirlwind.

--There he is againsays the citizenstaring out.

--Who? says I.

--Bloomsays he. He's on point duty up and down there for the last ten
minutes.

AndbegobI saw his physog do a peep in and then slidder off again.

Little Alf was knocked bawways. Faithhe was.

--Good Christ! says he. I could have sworn it was him.

And says Bob Doranwith the hat on the back of his polllowest
blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence:

--Who said Christ is good?

--I beg your parsnipssays Alf.

--Is that a good Christsays Bob Doranto take away poor little Willy
Dignam?

--Ahwellsays Alftrying to pass it off. He's over all his troubles.

But Bob Doran shouts out of him.

--He's a bloody ruffianI sayto take away poor little Willy Dignam.


Terry came down and tipped him the wink to keep quietthat they
didn't want that kind of talk in a respectable licensed premises. And Bob
Doran starts doing the weeps about Paddy Dignamtrue as you're there.


--The finest mansays hesnivellingthe finest purest character.


The tear is bloody near your eye. Talking through his bloody hat.
Fitter for him go home to the little sleepwalking bitch he married
Mooneythe bumbailiff's daughtermother kept a kip in Hardwicke street
that used to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told me that
was stopping there at two in the morning without a stitch on herexposing
her personopen to all comersfair field and no favour.


--The noblestthe truestsays he. And he's gonepoor little Willypoor
little Paddy Dignam.


And mournful and with a heavy heart he bewept the extinction of that
beam of heaven.


Old Garryowen started growling again at Bloom that was skeezing
round the door.


--Come income onhe won't eat yousays the citizen.


So Bloom slopes in with his cod's eye on the dog and he asks Terry
was Martin Cunningham there.


--OChrist M'Keownsays Joereading one of the letters. Listen to this
will you?


And he starts reading out one.


7 HUNTER STREETLIVERPOOL.
TO THE HIGH SHERIFF OF DUBLINDUBLIN.


HONOURED SIR I BEG TO OFFER MY SERVICES IN THE ABOVEMENTIONED PAINFUL
CASE I HANGED JOE GANN IN BOOTLE JAIL ON THE 12 OF FEBUARY 1900 AND I
HANGED ...

--Show usJoesays I.

-- ... PRIVATE ARTHUR CHACE FOR FOWL MURDER OF JESSIE TILSIT IN
PENTONVILLE PRISON AND I WAS ASSISTANT WHEN ...

--Jesussays I.

-- ... BILLINGTON EXECUTED THE AWFUL MURDERER TOAD SMITH ...

The citizen made a grab at the letter.

--Hold hardsays JoeI HAVE A SPECIAL NACK OF PUTTING THE NOOSE ONCE IN
HE CAN'T GET OUT HOPING TO BE FAVOURED I REMAINHONOURED SIRMY TERMS IS
FIVE GINNEES.

H. RUMBOLD
MASTER BARBER.
--And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is toosays the citizen.

--And the dirty scrawl of the wretchsays Joe. Heresays hetake them
to hell out of my sightAlf. HelloBloomsays hewhat will you have?


So they started arguing about the pointBloom saying he wouldn't
and he couldn't and excuse him no offence and all to that and then he said
well he'd just take a cigar. Gobhe's a prudent member and no mistake.

--Give us one of your prime stinkersTerrysays Joe.

And Alf was telling us there was one chap sent in a mourning card
with a black border round it.

--They're all barberssays hefrom the black country that would hang
their own fathers for five quid down and travelling expenses.

And he was telling us there's two fellows waiting below to pull his
heels down when he gets the drop and choke him properly and then they
chop up the rope after and sell the bits for a few bob a skull.

In the dark land they bidethe vengeful knights of the razor. Their
deadly coil they grasp: yeaand therein they lead to Erebus whatsoever
wight hath done a deed of blood for I will on nowise suffer it even so
saith the Lord.

So they started talking about capital punishment and of course Bloom
comes out with the why and the wherefore and all the codology of the
business and the old dog smelling him all the time I'm told those jewies
does have a sort of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about I don't
know what all deterrent effect and so forth and so on.

--There's one thing it hasn't a deterrent effect onsays Alf.

--What's that? says Joe.

--The poor bugger's tool that's being hangedsays Alf.

--That so? says Joe.

--God's truthsays Alf. I heard that from the head warder that was in

Kilmainham when they hanged Joe Bradythe invincible. He told me when
they cut him down after the drop it was standing up in their faces like a
poker.

--Ruling passion strong in deathsays Joeas someone said.

--That can be explained by sciencesays Bloom. It's only a natural
phenomenondon't you seebecause on account of the ...

And then he starts with his jawbreakers about phenomenon and
science and this phenomenon and the other phenomenon.

The distinguished scientist Herr Professor Luitpold Blumenduft
tendered medical evidence to the effect that the instantaneous fracture of
the cervical vertebrae and consequent scission of the spinal cord would
according to the best approved tradition of medical sciencebe calculated
to inevitably produce in the human subject a violent ganglionic stimulus
of the nerve centres of the genital apparatusthereby causing the elastic
pores of the CORPORA CAVERNOSA to rapidly dilate in such a way as to
instantaneously facilitate the flow of blood to that part of the human
anatomy known as the penis or male organ resulting in the phenomenon which
has been denominated by the faculty a morbid upwards and outwards
philoprogenitive erection IN ARTICULO MORTIS PER DIMINUTIONEM CAPITIS.

So of course the citizen was only waiting for the wink of the word and
he starts gassing out of him about the invincibles and the old guard and


the men of sixtyseven and who fears to speak of ninetyeight and Joe with
him about all the fellows that were hangeddrawn and transported for the
cause by drumhead courtmartial and a new Ireland and new thisthat and
the other. Talking about new Ireland he ought to go and get a new dog so
he ought. Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all round the place
and scratching his scabs. And round he goes to Bob Doran that was
standing Alf a half one sucking up for what he could get. So of course Bob
Doran starts doing the bloody fool with him:

--Give us the paw! Give the pawdoggy! Good old doggy! Give the paw
here! Give us the paw!

Arrahbloody end to the paw he'd paw and Alf trying to keep him
from tumbling off the bloody stool atop of the bloody old dog and he
talking all kinds of drivel about training by kindness and thoroughbred
dog and intelligent dog: give you the bloody pip. Then he starts scraping
a few bits of old biscuit out of the bottom of a Jacobs' tin he told Terry
to bring. Gobhe golloped it down like old boots and his tongue hanging
out of him a yard long for more. Near ate the tin and allhungry bloody
mongrel.

And the citizen and Bloom having an argument about the pointthe
brothers Sheares and Wolfe Tone beyond on Arbour Hill and Robert
Emmet and die for your countrythe Tommy Moore touch about Sara
Curran and she's far from the land. And Bloomof coursewith his
knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face. Phenomenon!
The fat heap he married is a nice old phenomenon with a back on her like a
ballalley. Time they were stopping up in the CITY ARMS pisser Burke told
me there was an old one there with a cracked loodheramaun of a nephew and
Bloom trying to get the soft side of her doing the mollycoddle playing
bezique to come in for a bit of the wampum in her will and not eating meat
of a Friday because the old one was always thumping her craw and taking
the lout out for a walk. And one time he led him the rounds of Dublin and
by the holy farmerhe never cried crack till he brought him home as drunk
as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of alcohol
and by herringsif the three women didn't near roast himit's a queer
storythe old oneBloom's wife and Mrs O'Dowd that kept the hotel.
JesusI had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat.
And Bloom with his BUT DON'T YOU SEE? and BUT ON THE OTHER HAND. And sure
more be tokenthe lout I'm told was in Power's afterthe blender's
round in Cope street going home footless in a cab five times in the week
after drinking his way through all the samples in the bloody
establishment. Phenomenon!

--The memory of the deadsays the citizen taking up his pintglass and
glaring at Bloom.

--Ayaysays Joe.

--You don't grasp my pointsays Bloom. What I mean is ...

--SINN FEIN! says the citizen. SINN FEIN AMHAIN! The friends we love are
by our side and the foes we hate before us.

The last farewell was affecting in the extreme. From the belfries far
and near the funereal deathbell tolled unceasingly while all around the
gloomy precincts rolled the ominous warning of a hundred muffled drums
punctuated by the hollow booming of pieces of ordnance. The deafening
claps of thunder and the dazzling flashes of lightning which lit up the
ghastly scene testified that the artillery of heaven had lent its
supernatural pomp to the already gruesome spectacle. A torrential rain
poured down from the floodgates of the angry heavens upon the bared heads
of the assembled multitude which numbered at the lowest computation five
hundred thousand persons. A posse of Dublin Metropolitan police


superintended by the Chief Commissioner in person maintained order in
the vast throng for whom the York street brass and reed band whiled away
the intervening time by admirably rendering on their blackdraped
instruments the matchless melody endeared to us from the cradle by
Speranza's plaintive muse. Special quick excursion trains and upholstered
charabancs had been provided for the comfort of our country cousins of
whom there were large contingents. Considerable amusement was caused
by the favourite Dublin streetsingers L-n-h-n and M-ll-g-n who sang THE
NIGHT BEFORE LARRY WAS STRETCHED in their usual mirth-provoking fashion.
Our two inimitable drolls did a roaring trade with their broadsheets among
lovers of the comedy element and nobody who has a corner in his heart for
real Irish fun without vulgarity will grudge them their hardearned
pennies. The children of the Male and Female Foundling Hospital who
thronged the windows overlooking the scene were delighted with this
unexpected addition to the day's entertainment and a word of praise is due
to the Little Sisters of the Poor for their excellent idea of affording
the poor fatherless and motherless children a genuinely instructive treat.
The viceregal houseparty which included many wellknown ladies was
chaperoned by Their Excellencies to the most favourable positions on the
grandstand while the picturesque foreign delegation known as the Friends
of the Emerald Isle was accommodated on a tribune directly opposite.
The delegationpresent in full forceconsisted of Commendatore
Bacibaci Beninobenone (the semiparalysed DOYEN of the party who had
to be assisted to his seat by the aid of a powerful steam crane)
Monsieur Pierrepaul Petitepatantthe Grandjoker Vladinmire
Pokethankertscheffthe Archjoker Leopold Rudolph von
Schwanzenbad-HodenthalerCountess Marha Viraga Kisaszony Putrapesthi
Hiram Y. BomboostCount Athanatos KaramelopulosAli Baba Backsheesh
Rahat Lokum EffendiSenor Hidalgo Caballero Don Pecadillo y
Palabras y Paternoster de la Malora de la MalariaHokopoko Harakiri
Hi Hung ChangOlaf KobberkeddelsenMynheer Trik van Trumps
Pan Poleaxe PaddyriskyGoosepond Prhklstr Kratchinabritchisitch
Borus HupinkoffHerr Hurhausdirektorpresident Hans Chuechli-Steuerli
Nationalgymnasiummuseumsanatoriumandsuspensoriumsordinaryprivatdocentgeneralhistoryspecialprofessordoctor
Kriegfried Ueberallgemein.
All the delegates without exception expressed themselves in the
strongest possible heterogeneous terms concerning the nameless
barbarity which they had been called upon to witness. An animated
altercation (in which all took part) ensued among the F. O. T. E. I.
as to whether the eighth or the ninth of March was the correct
date of the birth of Ireland's patron saint. In the course of the
argument cannonballsscimitarsboomerangsblunderbussesstinkpots
meatchoppersumbrellascatapultsknuckledusterssandbagslumps of pig
iron were resorted to and blows were freely exchanged. The baby
policemanConstable MacFaddensummoned by special courier from
Booterstownquickly restored order and with lightning promptitude
proposed the seventeenth of the month as a solution equally honourable for
both contending parties. The readywitted ninefooter's suggestion at once
appealed to all and was unanimously accepted. Constable MacFadden was
heartily congratulated by all the F.O.T.E.I.several of whom were
bleeding profusely. Commendatore Beninobenone having been extricated
from underneath the presidential armchairit was explained by his legal
adviser Avvocato Pagamimi that the various articles secreted in his
thirtytwo pockets had been abstracted by him during the affray from the
pockets of his junior colleagues in the hope of bringing them to their
senses. The objects (which included several hundred ladies' and
gentlemen's gold and silver watches) were promptly restored to their
rightful owners and general harmony reigned supreme.

Quietlyunassumingly Rumbold stepped on to the scaffold in faultless
morning dress and wearing his favourite flowerthe GLADIOLUS CRUENTUS.
He announced his presence by that gentle Rumboldian cough which so
many have tried (unsuccessfully) to imitate--shortpainstaking yet withal
so characteristic of the man. The arrival of the worldrenowned headsman


was greeted by a roar of acclamation from the huge concoursethe
viceregal ladies waving their handkerchiefs in their excitement while the
even more excitable foreign delegates cheered vociferously in a medley of
criesHOCHBANZAIELJENZIVIOCHINCHINPOLLA KRONIAHIPHIPVIVE
ALLAHamid which the ringing EVVIVA of the delegate of the land of song
(a high double F recalling those piercingly lovely notes with which the
eunuch Catalani beglamoured our greatgreatgrandmothers) was easily
distinguishable. It was exactly seventeen o'clock. The signal for prayer
was then promptly given by megaphone and in an instant all heads were
baredthe commendatore's patriarchal sombrerowhich has been in the
possession of his family since the revolution of Rienzibeing removed by
his medical adviser in attendanceDr Pippi. The learned prelate who
administered the last comforts of holy religion to the hero martyr when
about to pay the death penalty knelt in a most christian spirit in a pool
of rainwaterhis cassock above his hoary headand offered up to the
throne of grace fervent prayers of supplication. Hand by the block stood
the grim figure of the executionerhis visage being concealed in a
tengallon pot with two circular perforated apertures through which
his eyes glowered furiously. As he awaited the fatal signal he
tested the edge of his horrible weapon by honing it upon his
brawny forearm or decapitated in rapid succession a flock of
sheep which had been provided by the admirers of his fell but necessary
office. On a handsome mahogany table near him were neatly arranged the
quartering knifethe various finely tempered disembowelling appliances
(specially supplied by the worldfamous firm of cutlersMessrs John Round
and SonsSheffield)a terra cotta saucepan for the reception of the
duodenumcolonblind intestine and appendix etc when successfully
extracted and two commodious milkjugs destined to receive the most
precious blood of the most precious victim. The housesteward of the
amalgamated cats' and dogs' home was in attendance to convey these
vessels when replenished to that beneficent institution. Quite an
excellent repast consisting of rashers and eggsfried steak and onions
done to a nicetydelicious hot breakfast rolls and invigorating tea had
been considerately provided by the authorities for the consumption
of the central figure of the tragedy who was in capital spirits
when prepared for death and evinced the keenest interest in the
proceedings from beginning to end but hewith an abnegation rare
in these our timesrose nobly to the occasion and expressed the
dying wish (immediately acceded to) that the meal should be
divided in aliquot parts among the members of the sick and indigent
roomkeepers' association as a token of his regard and esteem. The NEC and
NON PLUS ULTRA of emotion were reached when the blushing bride elect burst
her way through the serried ranks of the bystanders and flung herself upon
the muscular bosom of him who was about to be launched into eternity for
her sake. The hero folded her willowy form in a loving embrace murmuring
fondly SHEILAMY OWN. Encouraged by this use of her christian name she
kissed passionately all the various suitable areas of his person which the
decencies of prison garb permitted her ardour to reach. She swore to him
as they mingled the salt streams of their tears that she would ever
cherish his memorythat she would never forget her hero boy who went to
his death with a song on his lips as if he were but going to a hurling
match in Clonturk park. She brought back to his recollection the happy
days of blissful childhood together on the banks of Anna Liffey when they
had indulged in the innocent pastimes of the young andoblivious of the
dreadful presentthey both laughed heartilyall the spectators
including the venerable pastorjoining in the general merriment. That
monster audience simply rocked with delight. But anon they were overcome
with grief and clasped their hands for the last time. A fresh torrent of
tears burst from their lachrymal ducts and the vast concourse of people
touched to the inmost corebroke into heartrending sobsnot the least
affected being the aged prebendary himself. Big strong menofficers of
the peace and genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary
were making frank use of their handkerchiefs and it is safe to say
that there was not a dry eye in that record assemblage. A most


romantic incident occurred when a handsome young Oxford graduate
noted for his chivalry towards the fair sexstepped forward and
presenting his visiting cardbankbook and genealogical tree
solicited the hand of the hapless young ladyrequesting her to
name the dayand was accepted on the spot. Every lady in the
audience was presented with a tasteful souvenir of the occasion
in the shape of a skull and crossbones broocha timely and generous
act which evoked a fresh outburst of emotion: and when the gallant
young Oxonian (the bearerby the wayof one of the most timehonoured
names in Albion's history) placed on the finger of his blushing FIANCEE
an expensive engagement ring with emeralds set in the form of a
fourleaved shamrock the excitement knew no bounds. Nayeven the ster

provostmarshallieutenantcolonel Tomkin-Maxwell ffrenchmullan Tomlinson
who presided on the sad occasionhe who had blown a considerable number
of sepoys from the cannonmouth without flinchingcould not now restrain
his natural emotion. With his mailed gauntlet he brushed away a furtive
tear and was overheardby those privileged burghers who happened to be
in his immediate ENTOURAGEto murmur to himself in a faltering undertone:

--God blimey if she aint a clinkerthat there bleeding tart. Blimey it
makes me kind of bleeding crystraightit doeswhen I sees her cause I
thinks of my old mashtub what's waiting for me down Limehouse way.

So then the citizen begins talking about the Irish language and the
corporation meeting and all to that and the shoneens that can't speak
their own language and Joe chipping in because he stuck someone for
a quid and Bloom putting in his old goo with his twopenny stump that
he cadged off of Joe and talking about the Gaelic league and the
antitreating league and drinkthe curse of Ireland. Antitreating
is about the size of it. Gobhe'd let you pour all manner of drink
down his throat till the Lord would call him before you'd ever
see the froth of his pint. And one night I went in with a fellow
into one of their musical eveningssong and dance about she could
get up on a truss of hay she could my Maureen Lay and there was a fellow
with a Ballyhooly blue ribbon badge spiffing out of him in Irish and a lot
of colleen bawns going about with temperance beverages and selling medals
and oranges and lemonade and a few old dry bunsgobflahoolagh
entertainmentdon't be talking. Ireland sober is Ireland free. And then
an old fellow starts blowing into his bagpipes and all the gougers
shuffling their feet to the tune the old cow died of. And one or two sky
pilots having an eye around that there was no goings on with the females
hitting below the belt.

So howandeveras I was sayingthe old dog seeing the tin was empty
starts mousing around by Joe and me. I'd train him by kindnessso I
wouldif he was my dog. Give him a rousing fine kick now and again where
it wouldn't blind him.

--Afraid he'll bite you? says the citizenjeering.

--Nosays I. But he might take my leg for a lamppost.

So he calls the old dog over.

--What's on youGarry? says he.

Then he starts hauling and mauling and talking to him in Irish and
the old towser growlingletting on to answerlike a duet in the opera.
Such growling you never heard as they let off between them. Someone that
has nothing better to do ought to write a letter PRO BONO PUBLICO to the
papers about the muzzling order for a dog the like of that. Growling and
grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the
hydrophobia dropping out of his jaws.


All those who are interested in the spread of human culture among
the lower animals (and their name is legion) should make a point of not
missing the really marvellous exhibition of cynanthropy given by the
famous old Irish red setter wolfdog formerly known by the SOBRIQUET of
Garryowen and recently rechristened by his large circle of friends and
acquaintances Owen Garry. The exhibitionwhich is the result of years of
training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary systemcomprises
among other achievementsthe recitation of verse. Our greatest living
phonetic expert (wild horses shall not drag it from us!) has left no stone
unturned in his efforts to delucidate and compare the verse recited and has
found it bears a STRIKING resemblance (the italics are ours) to the ranns
of ancient Celtic bards. We are not speaking so much of those delightful
lovesongs with which the writer who conceals his identity under the
graceful pseudonym of the Little Sweet Branch has familiarised the
bookloving world but rather (as a contributor D. O. C. points out in an
interesting communication published by an evening contemporary) of the
harsher and more personal note which is found in the satirical effusions
of the famous Raftery and of Donal MacConsidine to say nothing of a more
modern lyrist at present very much in the public eye. We subjoin a
specimen which has been rendered into English by an eminent scholar
whose name for the moment we are not at liberty to disclose though
we believe that our readers will find the topical allusion rather
more than an indication. The metrical system of the canine original
which recalls the intricate alliterative and isosyllabic rules of
the Welsh englynis infinitely more complicated but we believe our
readers will agree that the spirit has been well caught. Perhaps
it should be added that the effect is greatly increased if Owen's
verse be spoken somewhat slowly and indistinctly in a tone suggestive
of suppressed rancour.

THE CURSE OF MY CURSES
SEVEN DAYS EVERY DAY
AND SEVEN DRY THURSDAYS
ON YOUBARNEY KIERNAN
HAS NO SUP OF WATER
TO COOL MY COURAGE
AND MY GUTS RED ROARING
AFTER LOWRY'S LIGHTS.


So he told Terry to bring some water for the dog andgobyou could
hear him lapping it up a mile off. And Joe asked him would he have
another.

--I willsays heA CHARAto show there's no ill feeling.

Gobhe's not as green as he's cabbagelooking. Arsing around from
one pub to anotherleaving it to your own honourwith old Giltrap's dog
and getting fed up by the ratepayers and corporators. Entertainment for
man and beast. And says Joe:

--Could you make a hole in another pint?

--Could a swim duck? says I.

--Same againTerrysays Joe. Are you sure you won't have anything in the
way of liquid refreshment? says he.

--Thank younosays Bloom. As a matter of fact I just wanted to meet
Martin Cunninghamdon't you seeabout this insurance of poor Dignam's.
Martin asked me to go to the house. You seeheDignamI meandidn't
serve any notice of the assignment on the company at the time and
nominally under the act the mortgagee can't recover on the policy.


--Holy Warssays Joelaughingthat's a good one if old Shylock is
landed. So the wife comes out top dogwhat?

--Wellthat's a pointsays Bloomfor the wife's admirers.

--Whose admirers? says Joe.

--The wife's advisersI meansays Bloom.

Then he starts all confused mucking it up about mortgagor under the act
like the lord chancellor giving it out on the bench and for the benefit of
the wife and that a trust is created but on the other hand that Dignam
owed Bridgeman the money and if now the wife or the widow contested the
mortgagee's right till he near had the head of me addled with his
mortgagor under the act. He was bloody safe he wasn't run in himself under
the act that time as a rogue and vagabond only he had a friend in court.
Selling bazaar tickets or what do you call it royal Hungarian privileged
lottery. True as you're there. Ocommend me to an israelite! Royal and
privileged Hungarian robbery.

So Bob Doran comes lurching around asking Bloom to tell Mrs
Dignam he was sorry for her trouble and he was very sorry about the
funeral and to tell her that he said and everyone who knew him said that
there was never a truera finer than poor little Willy that's dead to tell
her. Choking with bloody foolery. And shaking Bloom's hand doing the
tragic to tell her that. Shake handsbrother. You're a rogue and I'm
another.

--Let mesaid heso far presume upon our acquaintance whichhowever
slight it may appear if judged by the standard of mere timeis founded
as I hope and believeon a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of
you this favour. Butshould I have overstepped the limits of reserve
let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness.

--Norejoined the otherI appreciate to the full the motives which
actuate your conduct and I shall discharge the office you entrust
to me consoled by the reflection thatthough the errand be one of
sorrowthis proof of your confidence sweetens in some measure the
bitterness of the cup.

--Then suffer me to take your handsaid he. The goodness of your heartI
feel surewill dictate to you better than my inadequate words the
expressions which are most suitable to convey an emotion whose
poignancywere I to give vent to my feelingswould deprive me even of
speech.

And off with him and out trying to walk straight. Boosed at five
o'clock. Night he was near being lagged only Paddy Leonard knew the bobby
14A. Blind to the world up in a shebeen in Bride street after closing
timefornicating with two shawls and a bully on guarddrinking porter
out of teacups. And calling himself a Frenchy for the shawlsJoseph
Manuoand talking against the Catholic religionand he serving mass in
Adam and Eve's when he was young with his eyes shutwho wrote the new
testamentand the old testamentand hugging and smugging. And the two
shawls killed with the laughingpicking his pocketsthe bloody
fool and he spilling the porter all over the bed and the two shawls
screeching laughing at one another. HOW IS YOUR TESTAMENT? HAVE YOU
GOT AN OLD TESTAMENT? Only Paddy was passing thereI tell you what.
Then see him of a Sunday with his little concubine of a wifeand
she wagging her tail up the aisle of the chapel with her patent boots
on herno lessand her violetsnice as piedoing the little lady.
Jack Mooney's sister. And the old prostitute of a mother
procuring rooms to street couples. GobJack made him toe the line. Told


him if he didn't patch up the potJesushe'd kick the shite out of him.

So Terry brought the three pints.

--Heresays Joedoing the honours. Herecitizen.

--SLAN LEATsays he.

--FortuneJoesays I. Good healthcitizen.

Gobhe had his mouth half way down the tumbler already. Want a
small fortune to keep him in drinks.

--Who is the long fellow running for the mayoraltyAlf? says Joe.

--Friend of yourssays Alf.

--Nannan? says Joe. The mimber?

--I won't mention any namessays Alf.

--I thought sosays Joe. I saw him up at that meeting now with William
FieldM. P.the cattle traders.

--Hairy Iopassays the citizenthat exploded volcanothe darling of all
countries and the idol of his own.

So Joe starts telling the citizen about the foot and mouth disease and
the cattle traders and taking action in the matter and the citizen sending
them all to the rightabout and Bloom coming out with his sheepdip for the
scab and a hoose drench for coughing calves and the guaranteed remedy
for timber tongue. Because he was up one time in a knacker's yard.
Walking about with his book and pencil here's my head and my heels are
coming till Joe Cuffe gave him the order of the boot for giving lip to a
grazier. Mister Knowall. Teach your grandmother how to milk ducks.
Pisser Burke was telling me in the hotel the wife used to be in rivers of
tears some times with Mrs O'Dowd crying her eyes out with her eight inches
of fat all over her. Couldn't loosen her farting strings but old cod's eye
was waltzing around her showing her how to do it. What's your programme
today? Ay. Humane methods. Because the poor animals suffer and experts
say and the best known remedy that doesn't cause pain to the animal and
on the sore spot administer gently. Gobhe'd have a soft hand under a
hen.

Ga Ga Gara. Klook Klook Klook. Black Liz is our hen. She lays eggs
for us. When she lays her egg she is so glad. Gara. Klook Klook Klook.
Then comes good uncle Leo. He puts his hand under black Liz and takes
her fresh egg. Ga ga ga ga Gara. Klook Klook Klook.

--Anyhowsays JoeField and Nannetti are going over tonight to London
to ask about it on the floor of the house of commons.

--Are you suresays Bloomthe councillor is going? I wanted to see him
as it happens.

--Wellhe's going off by the mailboatsays Joetonight.

--That's too badsays Bloom. I wanted particularly. Perhaps only Mr Field
is going. I couldn't phone. No. You're sure?

--Nannan's going toosays Joe. The league told him to ask a question
tomorrow about the commissioner of police forbidding Irish games in the
park. What do you think of thatcitizen? THE SLUAGH NA H-EIREANN.


Mr Cowe Conacre (Multifarnham. Nat.): Arising out of the question of my
honourable friendthe member for Shillelaghmay I ask the right
honourable gentleman whether the government has issued orders that these
animals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is forthcoming as
to their pathological condition?

Mr Allfours (Tamoshant. Con.): Honourable members are already in
possession of the evidence produced before a committee of the whole house.
I feel I cannot usefully add anything to that. The answer to the
honourable member's question is in the affirmative.

Mr Orelli O'Reilly (Montenotte. Nat.): Have similar orders been issued for
the slaughter of human animals who dare to play Irish games in the
Phoenix park?

Mr Allfours: The answer is in the negative.

Mr Cowe Conacre: Has the right honourable gentleman's famous
Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury
bench? (O! O!)

Mr Allfours: I must have notice of that question.

Mr Staylewit (Buncombe. Ind.): Don't hesitate to shoot.

(Ironical opposition cheers.)

The speaker: Order! Order!

(The house rises. Cheers.)

--There's the mansays Joethat made the Gaelic sports revival. There he
is sitting there. The man that got away James Stephens. The champion of
all Ireland at putting the sixteen pound shot. What was your best throw
citizen?

--NA BACLEISsays the citizenletting on to be modest. There was a time
I was as good as the next fellow anyhow.

--Put it therecitizensays Joe. You were and a bloody sight better.

--Is that really a fact? says Alf.

--Yessays Bloom. That's well known. Did you not know that?

So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of lawn
tennis and about hurley and putting the stone and racy of the soil and
building up a nation once again and all to that. And of course Bloom had
to have his say too about if a fellow had a rower's heart violent
exercise was bad. I declare to my antimacassar if you took up a
straw from the bloody floor and if you said to Bloom: LOOK ATBLOOM.
DO YOU SEE THAT STRAW? THAT'S A STRAW. Declare to my aunt he'd talk
about it for an hour so he would and talk steady.

A most interesting discussion took place in the ancient hall of BRIAN
O'CIARNAIN'S in SRAID NA BRETAINE BHEAGunder the auspices of SLUAGH NA
H-EIREANNon the revival of ancient Gaelic sports and the importance of
physical cultureas understood in ancient Greece and ancient Rome and
ancient Irelandfor the development of the race. The venerable president
of the noble order was in the chair and the attendance was of large
dimensions. After an instructive discourse by the chairmana magnificent
oration eloquently and forcibly expresseda most interesting and
instructive discussion of the usual high standard of excellence
ensued as to the desirability of the revivability of the ancient


games and sports of our ancient Panceltic forefathers. The
wellknown and highly respected worker in the cause of our old
tongueMr Joseph M'Carthy Hynesmade an eloquent appeal for
the resuscitation of the ancient Gaelic sports and pastimes
practised morning and evening by Finn MacCoolas calculated to revive the
best traditions of manly strength and prowess handed down to us from
ancient ages. L. Bloomwho met with a mixed reception of applause and
hisseshaving espoused the negative the vocalist chairman brought the
discussion to a closein response to repeated requests and hearty
plaudits from all parts of a bumper houseby a remarkably noteworthy
rendering of the immortal Thomas Osborne Davis' evergreen verses (happily
too familiar to need recalling here) A NATION ONCE AGAIN in the execution
of which the veteran patriot champion may be said without fear of
contradiction to have fairly excelled himself. The Irish Caruso-Garibaldi
was in superlative form and his stentorian notes were heard to the
greatest advantage in the timehonoured anthem sung as only our citizen
can sing it. His superb highclass vocalismwhich by its superquality
greatly enhanced his already international reputationwas vociferously
applauded by the large audience among which were to be noticed many
prominent members of the clergy as well as representatives of the press
and the bar and the other learned professions. The proceedings then
terminated.

Amongst the clergy present were the very rev. William DelanyS. J.

L. L. D.; the rt rev. Gerald MolloyD. D.; the rev. P. J. Kavanagh
C. S. Sp.; the rev. T. WatersC. C.; the rev. John M. IversP. P.; the
rev. P. J. ClearyO. S. F.; the rev. L. J. HickeyO. P.; the very rev.
Fr. NicholasO. S. F. C.; the very rev. B. GormanO. D. C.; the rev. T.
MaherS. J.; the very rev. James MurphyS. J.; the rev. John Lavery
V. F.; the very rev. William DohertyD. D.; the rev. Peter FaganO. M.;
the rev. T. BranganO. S. A.; the rev. J. FlavinC. C.; the rev. M. A.
HackettC. C.; the rev. W. HurleyC. C.; the rt rev. Mgr M'Manus
V. G.; the rev. B. R. SlatteryO. M. I.; the very rev. M. D. ScallyP.
P.; the rev. F. T. PurcellO. P.; the very rev. Timothy canon Gorman
P. P.; the rev. J. FlanaganC. C. The laity included P. FayT. Quirke
etc.etc.
--Talking about violent exercisesays Alfwere you at that Keogh-Bennett
match?

--Nosays Joe.

--I heard So and So made a cool hundred quid over itsays Alf.

--Who? Blazes? says Joe.

And says Bloom:

--What I meant about tennisfor exampleis the agility and training the
eye.

--AyBlazessays Alf. He let out that Myler was on the beer to run up
the odds and he swatting all the time.

--We know himsays the citizen. The traitor's son. We know what put
English gold in his pocket.

---True for yousays Joe.

And Bloom cuts in again about lawn tennis and the circulation of the
bloodasking Alf:

--Nowdon't you thinkBergan?


--Myler dusted the floor with himsays Alf. Heenan and Sayers was only a
bloody fool to it. Handed him the father and mother of a beating. See the
little kipper not up to his navel and the big fellow swiping. Godhe gave
him one last puck in the windQueensberry rules and allmade him puke
what he never ate.


It was a historic and a hefty battle when Myler and Percy were
scheduled to don the gloves for the purse of fifty sovereigns. Handicapped
as he was by lack of poundageDublin's pet lamb made up for it by
superlative skill in ringcraft. The final bout of fireworks was a
gruelling for both champions. The welterweight sergeantmajor had
tapped some lively claret in the previous mixup during which Keogh
had been receivergeneral of rights and leftsthe artilleryman
putting in some neat work on the pet's noseand Myler came on
looking groggy. The soldier got to businessleading off with a
powerful left jab to which the Irish gladiator retaliated by shooting
out a stiff one flush to the point of Bennett's jaw. The redcoat
ducked but the Dubliner lifted him with a left hookthe body punch being
a fine one. The men came to handigrips. Myler quickly became busy and got
his man underthe bout ending with the bulkier man on the ropesMyler
punishing him. The Englishmanwhose right eye was nearly closedtook
his corner where he was liberally drenched with water and when the bell
went came on gamey and brimful of pluckconfident of knocking out the
fistic Eblanite in jigtime. It was a fight to a finish and the best man
for it. The two fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high. The
referee twice cautioned Pucking Percy for holding but the pet was tricky
and his footwork a treat to watch. After a brisk exchange of courtesies
during which a smart upper cut of the military man brought blood freely
from his opponent's mouth the lamb suddenly waded in all over his man and
landed a terrific left to Battling Bennett's stomachflooring him flat.
It was a knockout clean and clever. Amid tense expectation the Portobello
bruiser was being counted out when Bennett's second Ole Pfotts Wettstein
threw in the towel and the Santry boy was declared victor to the frenzied
cheers of the public who broke through the ringropes and fairly mobbed him
with delight.


--He knows which side his bread is butteredsays Alf. I hear he's running
a concert tour now up in the north.


--He issays Joe. Isn't he?


--Who? says Bloom. Ahyes. That's quite true. Yesa kind of summer tour
you see. Just a holiday.


--Mrs B. is the bright particular starisn't she? says Joe.


--My wife? says Bloom. She's singingyes. I think it will be a success
too.


He's an excellent man to organise. Excellent.


Hoho begob says I to myself says I. That explains the milk in the cocoanut
and absence of hair on the animal's chest. Blazes doing the tootle on the
flute. Concert tour. Dirty Dan the dodger's son off Island bridge that
sold the same horses twice over to the government to fight the Boers. Old
Whatwhat. I called about the poor and water rateMr Boylan. You what?
The water rateMr Boylan. You whatwhat? That's the bucko that'll
organise hertake my tip. 'Twixt me and you Caddareesh.


Pride of Calpe's rocky mountthe ravenhaired daughter of Tweedy.
There grew she to peerless beauty where loquat and almond scent the air.
The gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew and
bowed. The chaste spouse of Leopold is she: Marion of the bountiful
bosoms.



And lothere entered one of the clan of the O'Molloy'sa comely hero
of white face yet withal somewhat ruddyhis majesty's counsel learned in
the lawand with him the prince and heir of the noble line of Lambert.


--HelloNed.


--HelloAlf.


--HelloJack.


--HelloJoe.


--God save yousays the citizen.


--Save you kindlysays J. J. What'll it beNed?


--Half onesays Ned.


So J. J. ordered the drinks.


--Were you round at the court? says Joe.


--Yessays J. J. He'll square thatNedsays he.


--Hope sosays Ned.


Now what were those two at? J. J. getting him off the grand jury list
and the other give him a leg over the stile. With his name in Stubbs's.
Playing cardshobnobbing with flash toffs with a swank glass in their
eyeadrinking fizz and he half smothered in writs and garnishee orders.
Pawning his gold watch in Cummins of Francis street where no-one would
know him in the private office when I was there with Pisser releasing his
boots out of the pop. What's your namesir? Dunnesays he. Ayand done
says I. Gobhe'll come home by weeping cross one of those daysI'm
thinking.


--Did you see that bloody lunatic Breen round there? says Alf. U. p: up.


--Yessays J. J. Looking for a private detective.


--Aysays Ned. And he wanted right go wrong to address the court only
Corny Kelleher got round him telling him to get the handwriting examined
first.


--Ten thousand poundssays Alflaughing. GodI'd give anything to hear
him before a judge and jury.


--Was it you did itAlf? says Joe. The truththe whole truth and nothing
but the truthso help you Jimmy Johnson.


--Me? says Alf. Don't cast your nasturtiums on my character.


--Whatever statement you makesays Joewill be taken down in evidence
against you.


--Of course an action would liesays J. J. It implies that he is not
COMPOS MENTIS. U. p: up.


--COMPOS your eye! says Alflaughing. Do you know that he's balmy?
Look at his head. Do you know that some mornings he has to get his hat on
with a shoehorn.


--Yessays J. J.but the truth of a libel is no defence to an indictment



for publishing it in the eyes of the law.

--Ha haAlfsays Joe.

--Stillsays Bloomon account of the poor womanI mean his wife.

--Pity about hersays the citizen. Or any other woman marries a half and
half.

--How half and half? says Bloom. Do you mean he ...

--Half and half I meansays the citizen. A fellow that's neither fish nor
flesh.

--Nor good red herringsays Joe.

--That what's I meansays the citizen. A pishogueif you know what that
is.

Begob I saw there was trouble coming. And Bloom explaining he meant on
account of it being cruel for the wife having to go round after the
old stuttering fool. Cruelty to animals so it is to let that bloody
povertystricken Breen out on grass with his beard out tripping him
bringing down the rain. And she with her nose cockahoop after she married
him because a cousin of his old fellow's was pewopener to the pope.
Picture of him on the wall with his Smashall Sweeney's moustachesthe
signior Brini from Summerhillthe eyetallyanopapal Zouave to the Holy
Fatherhas left the quay and gone to Moss street. And who was hetell
us? A nobodytwo pair back and passagesat seven shillings a weekand
he covered with all kinds of breastplates bidding defiance to the world.

--And moreoversays J. J.a postcard is publication. It was held to be
sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v. Hole. In my
opinion an action might lie.

Six and eightpenceplease. Who wants your opinion? Let us drink
our pints in peace. Gobwe won't be let even do that much itself.

--Wellgood healthJacksays Ned.

--Good healthNedsays J. J.

---There he is againsays Joe.

--Where? says Alf.

And begob there he was passing the door with his books under his
oxter and the wife beside him and Corny Kelleher with his wall eye looking
in as they went pasttalking to him like a fathertrying to sell him a
secondhand coffin.

--How did that Canada swindle case go off? says Joe.

--Remandedsays J. J.

One of the bottlenosed fraternity it was went by the name of James
Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiroput an ad in the papers saying
he'd give a passage to Canada for twenty bob. What? Do you see any green
in the white of my eye? Course it was a bloody barney. What? Swindled
them allskivvies and badhachs from the county Meathayand his own
kidney too. J. J. was telling us there was an ancient Hebrew Zaretsky or
something weeping in the witnessbox with his hat on himswearing by the
holy Moses he was stuck for two quid.


--Who tried the case? says Joe.

--Recordersays Ned.

--Poor old sir Fredericksays Alfyou can cod him up to the two eyes.

--Heart as big as a lionsays Ned. Tell him a tale of woe about arrears
of rent and a sick wife and a squad of kids andfaithhe'll dissolve in
tears on the bench.

--Aysays Alf. Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn't clap him in the dock
the other day for suing poor little Gumley that's minding stonesfor the
corporation there near Butt bridge.

And he starts taking off the old recorder letting on to cry:

--A most scandalous thing! This poor hardworking man! How many
children? Tendid you say?

--Yesyour worship. And my wife has the typhoid.

--And the wife with typhoid fever! Scandalous! Leave the court
immediatelysir. NosirI'll make no order for payment. How dare you
sircome up before me and ask me to make an order! A poor hardworking
industrious man! I dismiss the case.

And whereas on the sixteenth day of the month of the oxeyed goddess and in
the third week after the feastday of the Holy and Undivided Trinity
the daughter of the skiesthe virgin moon being then in her first
quarterit came to pass that those learned judges repaired them to the
halls of law. There master Courtenaysitting in his own chamber
gave his rede and master Justice Andrewssitting without a jury
in the probate courtweighed well and pondered the claim of the
first chargeant upon the property in the matter of the will
propounded and final testamentary disposition IN RE the real and
personal estate of the late lamented Jacob Hallidayvintnerdeceased
versus Livingstonean infantof unsound mindand another. And to the
solemn court of Green street there came sir Frederick the Falconer. And he
sat him there about the hour of five o'clock to administer the law of the
brehons at the commission for all that and those parts to be holden in
and for the county of the city of Dublin. And there sat with him the high
sinhedrim of the twelve tribes of Iarfor every tribe one manof the
tribe of Patrick and of the tribe of Hugh and of the tribe of Owen and of
the tribe of Conn and of the tribe of Oscar and of the tribe of
Fergus and of the tribe of Finn and of the tribe of Dermot and of
the tribe of Cormac and of the tribe of Kevin and of the tribe of
Caolte and of the tribe of Ossianthere being in all twelve good
men and true. And he conjured them by Him who died on rood that
they should well and truly try and true deliverance make in the
issue joined between their sovereign lord the king and the prisoner at
the bar and true verdict give according to the evidence so help them God
and kiss the book. And they rose in their seatsthose twelve of Iarand
they swore by the name of Him Who is from everlasting that they would do
His rightwiseness. And straightway the minions of the law led forth from
their donjon keep one whom the sleuthhounds of justice had apprehended in
consequence of information received. And they shackled him hand and foot
and would take of him ne bail ne mainprise but preferred a charge against
him for he was a malefactor.

--Those are nice thingssays the citizencoming over here to Ireland
filling the country with bugs.

So Bloom lets on he heard nothing and he starts talking with Joetelling
him he needn't trouble about that little matter till the first but if he


would just say a word to Mr Crawford. And so Joe swore high and holy by
this and by that he'd do the devil and all.

--Becauseyou seesays Bloomfor an advertisement you must have
repetition. That's the whole secret.

--Rely on mesays Joe.

--Swindling the peasantssays the citizenand the poor of Ireland. We
want no more strangers in our house.

--OI'm sure that will be all rightHynessays Bloom. It's just that
Keyesyou see.

--Consider that donesays Joe.

--Very kind of yousays Bloom.

--The strangerssays the citizen. Our own fault. We let them come in. We
brought them in. The adulteress and her paramour brought the Saxon
robbers here.

--Decree NISIsays J. J.

And Bloom letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothinga
spider's web in the corner behind the barreland the citizen scowling
after him and the old dog at his feet looking up to know who to bite and
when.

--A dishonoured wifesays the citizenthat's what's the cause of all our
misfortunes.

--And here she issays Alfthat was giggling over the POLICE GAZETTE
with Terry on the counterin all her warpaint.

--Give us a squint at hersays I.

And what was it only one of the smutty yankee pictures Terry
borrows off of Corny Kelleher. Secrets for enlarging your private parts.
Misconduct of society belle. Norman W. Tupperwealthy Chicago
contractorfinds pretty but faithless wife in lap of officer Taylor.
Belle in her bloomers misconducting herselfand her fancyman feeling for
her tickles and Norman W. Tupper bouncing in with his peashooter just in
time to be late after she doing the trick of the loop with officer Taylor.

--O jakersJennysays Joehow short your shirt is!

--There's hairJoesays I. Get a queer old tailend of corned beef off of
that onewhat?

So anyhow in came John Wyse Nolan and Lenehan with him with a
face on him as long as a late breakfast.

--Wellsays the citizenwhat's the latest from the scene of action? What
did those tinkers in the city hall at their caucus meeting decide about
the Irish language?

O'Nolanclad in shining armourlow bending made obeisance to the
puissant and high and mighty chief of all Erin and did him to wit of that
which had befallenhow that the grave elders of the most obedient city
second of the realmhad met them in the tholseland thereafter due
prayers to the gods who dwell in ether supernalhad taken solemn counsel
whereby they mightif so be it might bebring once more into honour
among mortal men the winged speech of the seadivided Gael.


--It's on the marchsays the citizen. To hell with the bloody brutal
Sassenachs and their PATOIS.

So J. J. puts in a worddoing the toff about one story was good till
you heard another and blinking facts and the Nelson policyputting your
blind eye to the telescope and drawing up a bill of attainder to impeach a
nationand Bloom trying to back him up moderation and botheration and
their colonies and their civilisation.

--Their syphilisationyou meansays the citizen. To hell with them! The
curse of a goodfornothing God light sideways on the bloody thicklugged
sons of whores' gets! No music and no art and no literature worthy of the
name. Any civilisation they have they stole from us. Tonguetied sons of
bastards' ghosts.

--The European familysays J. J. ...

--They're not Europeansays the citizen. I was in Europe with Kevin Egan
of Paris. You wouldn't see a trace of them or their language anywhere in
Europe except in a CABINET D'AISANCE.

And says John Wyse:

--Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.

And says Lenehan that knows a bit of the lingo:

--CONSPUEZ LES ANGLAIS! PERFIDE ALBION!

He said and then lifted he in his rude great brawny strengthy hands
the medher of dark strong foamy ale anduttering his tribal slogan LAMH
DEARG ABUhe drank to the undoing of his foesa race of mighty valorous
heroesrulers of the waveswho sit on thrones of alabaster silent as the
deathless gods.

--What's up with yousays I to Lenehan. You look like a fellow that had
lost a bob and found a tanner.

--Gold cupsays he.

--Who wonMr Lenehan? says Terry.

--THROWAWAYsays heat twenty to one. A rank outsider. And the rest
nowhere.

--And Bass's mare? says Terry.

--Still runningsays he. We're all in a cart. Boylan plunged two quid on
my tip SCEPTRE for himself and a lady friend.

--I had half a crown myselfsays Terryon ZINFANDEL that Mr Flynn gave
me. Lord Howard de Walden's.

--Twenty to onesays Lenehan. Such is life in an outhouse. THROWAWAY
says he. Takes the biscuitand talking about bunions. Frailtythy name
is SCEPTRE.

So he went over to the biscuit tin Bob Doran left to see if there was
anything he could lift on the nodthe old cur after him backing his luck
with his mangy snout up. Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard.

--Not theremy childsays he.


--Keep your pecker upsays Joe. She'd have won the money only for the
other dog.

And J. J. and the citizen arguing about law and history with Bloom
sticking in an odd word.

--Some peoplesays Bloomcan see the mote in others' eyes but they can't
see the beam in their own.

--RAIMEISsays the citizen. There's no-one as blind as the fellow that
won't seeif you know what that means. Where are our missing
twenty millions of Irish should be here today instead of four
our lost tribes? And our potteries and textilesthe finest in
the whole world! And our wool that was sold in Rome in the time
of Juvenal and our flax and our damask from the looms of Antrim
and our Limerick laceour tanneries and our white flint glass
down there by Ballybough and our Huguenot poplin that we have since
Jacquard de Lyon and our woven silk and our Foxford tweeds and ivory
raised point from the Carmelite convent in New Rossnothing like it in
the whole wide world. Where are the Greek merchants that came through the
pillars of Herculesthe Gibraltar now grabbed by the foe of mankindwith
gold and Tyrian purple to sell in Wexford at the fair of Carmen? Read
Tacitus and Ptolemyeven Giraldus Cambrensis. Winepeltries
Connemara marblesilver from Tipperarysecond to noneour farfamed
horses even todaythe Irish hobbieswith king Philip of Spain offering
to pay customs duties for the right to fish in our waters. What do the
yellowjohns of Anglia owe us for our ruined trade and our ruined hearths?
And the beds of the Barrow and Shannon they won't deepen with millions
of acres of marsh and bog to make us all die of consumption?

--As treeless as Portugal we'll be soonsays John Wyseor Heligoland
with its one tree if something is not done to reafforest the land.
Larchesfirsall the trees of the conifer family are going fast. I was
reading a report of lord Castletown's ...

--Save themsays the citizenthe giant ash of Galway and the chieftain
elm of Kildare with a fortyfoot bole and an acre of foliage. Save the
trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of
EireO.

--Europe has its eyes on yousays Lenehan.

The fashionable international world attended EN MASSE this afternoon
at the wedding of the chevalier Jean Wyse de Neaulangrand high chief
ranger of the Irish National Foresterswith Miss Fir Conifer of Pine
Valley. Lady Sylvester ElmshadeMrs Barbara LovebirchMrs Poll Ash
Mrs Holly HazeleyesMiss Daphne BaysMiss Dorothy CanebrakeMrs
Clyde TwelvetreesMrs Rowan GreeneMrs Helen VinegaddingMiss
Virginia CreeperMiss Gladys BeechMiss Olive GarthMiss Blanche
MapleMrs Maud MahoganyMiss Myra MyrtleMiss Priscilla
ElderflowerMiss Bee HoneysuckleMiss Grace PoplarMiss O Mimosa
SanMiss Rachel Cedarfrondthe Misses Lilian and Viola LilacMiss
Timidity AspenallMrs Kitty Dewey-MosseMiss May HawthorneMrs
Gloriana PalmeMrs Liana ForrestMrs Arabella Blackwood and Mrs
Norma Holyoake of Oakholme Regis graced the ceremony by their
presence. The bride who was given away by her fatherthe M'Conifer of
the Glandslooked exquisitely charming in a creation carried out in green
mercerised silkmoulded on an underslip of gloaming greysashed with a
yoke of broad emerald and finished with a triple flounce of darkerhued
fringethe scheme being relieved by bretelles and hip insertions of acorn
bronze. The maids of honourMiss Larch Conifer and Miss Spruce Conifer
sisters of the bridewore very becoming costumes in the same tonea
dainty MOTIF of plume rose being worked into the pleats in a pinstripe and
repeated capriciously in the jadegreen toques in the form of heron


feathers of paletinted coral. Senhor Enrique Flor presided at the
organ with his wellknown ability andin addition to the prescribed
numbers of the nuptial massplayed a new and striking arrangement
of WOODMANSPARE THAT TREE at the conclusion of the service. On
leaving the church of Saint Fiacre IN HORTO after the papal
blessing the happy pair were subjected to a playful crossfire
of hazelnutsbeechmastbayleavescatkins of willowivytod
hollyberriesmistletoe sprigs and quicken shoots. Mr and Mrs Wyse
Conifer Neaulan will spend a quiet honeymoon in the Black Forest.

--And our eyes are on Europesays the citizen. We had our trade with
Spain and the French and with the Flemings before those mongrels were
puppedSpanish ale in Galwaythe winebark on the winedark waterway.

--And will againsays Joe.

--And with the help of the holy mother of God we will againsays the
citizenclapping his thigh. our harbours that are empty will be full
againQueenstownKinsaleGalwayBlacksod BayVentry in the kingdom of
KerryKillybegsthe third largest harbour in the wide world with a fleet
of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O'Reillys and the
O'Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with
the emperor Charles the Fifth himself. And will againsays hewhen the
first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to
the forenone of your Henry Tudor's harpsnothe oldest flag afloat
the flag of the province of Desmond and Thomondthree crowns on a blue
fieldthe three sons of Milesius.

And he took the last swig out of the pint. Moya. All wind and piss like
a tanyard cat. Cows in Connacht have long horns. As much as his bloody
life is worth to go down and address his tall talk to the assembled
multitude in Shanagolden where he daren't show his nose with the Molly
Maguires looking for him to let daylight through him for grabbing the
holding of an evicted tenant.

--Hearhear to thatsays John Wyse. What will you have?

--An imperial yeomanrysays Lenehanto celebrate the occasion.

--Half oneTerrysays John Wyseand a hands up. Terry! Are you asleep?

--Yessirsays Terry. Small whisky and bottle of Allsop. Rightsir.

Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead
of attending to the general public. Picture of a butting matchtrying to
crack their bloody skullsone chap going for the other with his head down
like a bull at a gate. And another one: BLACK BEAST BURNED IN OMAHAGA.
A lot of Deadwood Dicks in slouch hats and they firing at a Sambo strung
up in a tree with his tongue out and a bonfire under him. Gobthey ought
to drown him in the sea after and electrocute and crucify him to make sure
of their job.

--But what about the fighting navysays Nedthat keeps our foes at bay?

--I'll tell you what about itsays the citizen. Hell upon earth it is.
Read the revelations that's going on in the papers about flogging on the
training ships at Portsmouth. A fellow writes that calls himself DISGUSTED
ONE.

So he starts telling us about corporal punishment and about the crew
of tars and officers and rearadmirals drawn up in cocked hats and the
parson with his protestant bible to witness punishment and a young lad
brought outhowling for his maand they tie him down on the buttend of a
gun.


--A rump and dozensays the citizenwas what that old ruffian sir John
Beresford called it but the modern God's Englishman calls it caning on the
breech.

And says John Wyse:

--'Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance.

Then he was telling us the master at arms comes along with a long
cane and he draws out and he flogs the bloody backside off of the poor lad
till he yells meila murder.

--That's your glorious British navysays the citizenthat bosses the
earth.

The fellows that never will be slaveswith the only hereditary chamber on
the face of God's earth and their land in the hands of a dozen gamehogs
and cottonball barons. That's the great empire they boast about of drudges
and whipped serfs.

--On which the sun never risessays Joe.

--And the tragedy of it issays the citizenthey believe it. The
unfortunate yahoos believe it.

They believe in rodthe scourger almightycreator of hell upon earth
and in Jacky Tarthe son of a gunwho was conceived of unholy boast
born of the fighting navysuffered under rump and dozenwas scarified
flayed and curriedyelled like bloody hellthe third day he arose again
from the bedsteered into havensitteth on his beamend till further
orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be paid.

--Butsays Bloomisn't discipline the same everywhere. I mean wouldn't
it be the same here if you put force against force?

Didn't I tell you? As true as I'm drinking this porter if he was at his
last gasp he'd try to downface you that dying was living.

--We'll put force against forcesays the citizen. We have our greater
Ireland beyond the sea. They were driven out of house and home in the
black 47. Their mudcabins and their shielings by the roadside were laid
low by the batteringram and the TIMES rubbed its hands and told the
whitelivered Saxons there would soon be as few Irish in Ireland as
redskins in America. Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres. But the
Sassenach tried to starve the nation at home while the land was full of
crops that the British hyenas bought and sold in Rio de Janeiro. Aythey
drove out the peasants in hordes. Twenty thousand of them died in the
coffinships. But those that came to the land of the free remember the land
of bondage. And they will come again and with a vengeanceno cravensthe
sons of Granuailethe champions of Kathleen ni Houlihan.

--Perfectly truesays Bloom. But my point was ...

--We are a long time waiting for that daycitizensays Ned. Since the
poor old woman told us that the French were on the sea and landed at
Killala.

--Aysays John Wyse. We fought for the royal Stuarts that reneged us
against the Williamites and they betrayed us. Remember Limerick and the
broken treatystone. We gave our best blood to France and Spainthe wild
geese. Fontenoyeh? And Sarsfield and O'Donnellduke of Tetuan in
Spainand Ulysses Browne of Camus that was fieldmarshal to Maria
Teresa. But what did we ever get for it?


--The French! says the citizen. Set of dancing masters! Do you know what
it is? They were never worth a roasted fart to Ireland. Aren't they trying
to make an ENTENTE CORDIALE now at Tay Pay's dinnerparty with perfidious
Albion? Firebrands of Europe and they always were.

--CONSPUEZ LES FRANCAISsays Lenehannobbling his beer.

--And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverianssays Joehaven't we had
enough of those sausageeating bastards on the throne from George the
elector down to the German lad and the flatulent old bitch that's dead?

JesusI had to laugh at the way he came out with that about the old one
with the winkers on herblind drunk in her royal palace every night of
Godold Vicwith her jorum of mountain dew and her coachman carting
her up body and bones to roll into bed and she pulling him by the whiskers
and singing him old bits of songs about EHREN ON THE RHINE and come
where the boose is cheaper.

--Wellsays J. J. We have Edward the peacemaker now.

--Tell that to a foolsays the citizen. There's a bloody sight more pox
than pax about that boyo. Edward Guelph-Wettin!

--And what do you thinksays Joeof the holy boysthe priests and
bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's
racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the horses his jockeys
rode. The earl of Dublinno less.

--They ought to have stuck up all the women he rode himselfsays little Alf.

And says J. J.:

--Considerations of space influenced their lordships' decision.

--Will you try anothercitizen? says Joe.

--Yessirsays he. I will.

--You? says Joe.

--Beholden to youJoesays I. May your shadow never grow less.

--Repeat that dosesays Joe.

Bloom was talking and talking with John Wyse and he quite excited
with his dunducketymudcoloured mug on him and his old plumeyes rolling
about.

--Persecutionsays heall the history of the world is full of it.
Perpetuating national hatred among nations.

--But do you know what a nation means? says John Wyse.

--Yessays Bloom.

--What is it? says John Wyse.

--A nation? says Bloom. A nation is the same people living in the same
place.

--By Godthensays Nedlaughingif that's so I'm a nation for I'm
living in the same place for the past five years.


So of course everyone had the laugh at Bloom and says hetrying to
muck out of it:

--Or also living in different places.

--That covers my casesays Joe.

--What is your nation if I may ask? says the citizen.

--Irelandsays Bloom. I was born here. Ireland.

The citizen said nothing only cleared the spit out of his gullet and
gobhe spat a Red bank oyster out of him right in the corner.

--After you with the pushJoesays hetaking out his handkerchief to
swab himself dry.

--Here you arecitizensays Joe. Take that in your right hand and repeat
after me the following words.

The muchtreasured and intricately embroidered ancient Irish
facecloth attributed to Solomon of Droma and Manus Tomaltach og
MacDonoghauthors of the Book of Ballymotewas then carefully
produced and called forth prolonged admiration. No need to dwell on the
legendary beauty of the cornerpiecesthe acme of artwherein one can
distinctly discern each of the four evangelists in turn presenting to each
of the four masters his evangelical symbola bogoak sceptrea North
American puma (a far nobler king of beasts than the British articlebe it
said in passing)a Kerry calf and a golden eagle from Carrantuohill. The
scenes depicted on the emunctory fieldshowing our ancient duns and raths
and cromlechs and grianauns and seats of learning and maledictive stones
are as wonderfully beautiful and the pigments as delicate as when the
Sligo illuminators gave free rein to their artistic fantasy long long ago
in the time of the Barmecides. Glendaloughthe lovely lakes of Killarney
the ruins of ClonmacnoisCong AbbeyGlen Inagh and the Twelve Pins
Ireland's Eyethe Green Hills of TallaghtCroagh Patrickthe brewery of
Messrs Arthur GuinnessSon and Company (Limited)Lough Neagh's banks
the vale of OvocaIsolde's towerthe Mapas obeliskSir Patrick Dun's
hospitalCape Clearthe glen of AherlowLynch's castlethe Scotch
houseRathdown Union Workhouse at LoughlinstownTullamore jail
Castleconnel rapidsKilballymacshonakillthe cross at Monasterboice
Jury's HotelS. Patrick's Purgatorythe Salmon LeapMaynooth college
refectoryCurley's holethe three birthplaces of the first duke of
Wellingtonthe rock of Cashelthe bog of Allenthe Henry Street
WarehouseFingal's Cave--all these moving scenes are still there for us
today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have
passed over them and by the rich incrustations of time.

--Show us over the drinksays I. Which is which?

--That's minesays Joeas the devil said to the dead policeman.

--And I belong to a race toosays Bloomthat is hated and persecuted.
Also now. This very moment. This very instant.

Gobhe near burnt his fingers with the butt of his old cigar.

--Robbedsays he. Plundered. Insulted. Persecuted. Taking what belongs
to us by right. At this very momentsays heputting up his fistsold by
auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle.

--Are you talking about the new Jerusalem? says the citizen.

--I'm talking about injusticesays Bloom.


--Rightsays John Wyse. Stand up to it then with force like men.

That's an almanac picture for you. Mark for a softnosed bullet. Old
lardyface standing up to the business end of a gun. Gobhe'd adorn a
sweepingbrushso he wouldif he only had a nurse's apron on him. And
then he collapses all of a suddentwisting around all the oppositeas
limp as a wet rag.

--But it's no usesays he. Forcehatredhistoryall that. That's not
life for men and womeninsult and hatred. And everybody knows that it's
the very opposite of that that is really life.

--What? says Alf.

--Lovesays Bloom. I mean the opposite of hatred. I must go nowsays he
to John Wyse. Just round to the court a moment to see if Martin is there.
If he comes just say I'll be back in a second. Just a moment.

Who's hindering you? And off he pops like greased lightning.

--A new apostle to the gentilessays the citizen. Universal love.

--Wellsays John Wyse. Isn't that what we're told. Love your neighbour.

--That chap? says the citizen. Beggar my neighbour is his motto. Love
moya! He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet.

Love loves to love love. Nurse loves the new chemist. Constable 14A
loves Mary Kelly. Gerty MacDowell loves the boy that has the bicycle.

M. B. loves a fair gentleman. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow.
Jumbothe elephantloves Alicethe elephant. Old Mr Verschoyle with the
ear trumpet loves old Mrs Verschoyle with the turnedin eye. The man in the
brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. His Majesty the King loves Her
Majesty the Queen. Mrs Norman W. Tupper loves officer Taylor. You love
a certain person. And this person loves that other person because
everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody.
--WellJoesays Iyour very good health and song. More powercitizen.

--Hurrahtheresays Joe.

--The blessing of God and Mary and Patrick on yousays the citizen.

And he ups with his pint to wet his whistle.

--We know those canterssays hepreaching and picking your pocket.
What about sanctimonious Cromwell and his ironsides that put the women
and children of Drogheda to the sword with the bible text GOD IS LOVE
pasted round the mouth of his cannon? The bible! Did you read that skit in
the UNITED IRISHMAN today about that Zulu chief that's visiting England?

--What's that? says Joe.

So the citizen takes up one of his paraphernalia papers and he starts
reading out:

--A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented
yesterday to His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting
Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggsto tender to His Majesty the heartfelt
thanks of British traders for the facilities afforded them in his
dominions. The delegation partook of luncheon at the conclusion
of which the dusky potentatein the course of a happy speech
freely translated by the British chaplainthe reverend Ananias


Praisegod Barebonestendered his best thanks to Massa Walkup and
emphasised the cordial relations existing between Abeakuta and the
British empirestating that he treasured as one of his dearest
possessions an illuminated biblethe volume of the word of God
and the secret of England's greatnessgraciously presented to him by
the white chief womanthe great squaw Victoriawith a personal
dedication from the august hand of the Royal Donor. The Alaki then drank a
lovingcup of firstshot usquebaugh to the toast BLACK AND WHITE from the
skull of his immediate predecessor in the dynasty Kakachakachak
surnamed Forty Wartsafter which he visited the chief factory of
Cottonopolis and signed his mark in the visitors' booksubsequently
executing a charming old Abeakutic wardancein the course of which he
swallowed several knives and forksamid hilarious applause from the girl
hands.

--Widow womansays Ned. I wouldn't doubt her. Wonder did he put that
bible to the same use as I would.

--Same only more sosays Lenehan. And thereafter in that fruitful land
the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly.

--Is that by Griffith? says John Wyse.

--Nosays the citizen. It's not signed Shanganagh. It's only
initialled: P.

--And a very good initial toosays Joe.

--That's how it's workedsays the citizen. Trade follows the flag.

--Wellsays J. J.if they're any worse than those Belgians in the Congo
Free State they must be bad. Did you read that report by a man what's this
his name is?

--Casementsays the citizen. He's an Irishman.

--Yesthat's the mansays J. J. Raping the women and girls and flogging
the natives on the belly to squeeze all the red rubber they can out of
them.

--I know where he's gonesays Lenehancracking his fingers.

--Who? says I.

--Bloomsays he. The courthouse is a blind. He had a few bob on
THROWAWAY and he's gone to gather in the shekels.

--Is it that whiteeyed kaffir? says the citizenthat never backed a horse
in anger in his life?

--That's where he's gonesays Lenehan. I met Bantam Lyons going to back
that horse only I put him off it and he told me Bloom gave him the tip.
Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five on. He's the only
man in Dublin has it. A dark horse.

--He's a bloody dark horse himselfsays Joe.

--MindJoesays I. Show us the entrance out.

--There you aresays Terry.

Goodbye Ireland I'm going to Gort. So I just went round the back of
the yard to pumpship and begob (hundred shillings to five) while I was
letting off my (THROWAWAY twenty to) letting off my load gob says I to


myself I knew he was uneasy in his (two pints off of Joe and one in
Slattery's off) in his mind to get off the mark to (hundred shillings is
five quid) and when they were in the (dark horse) pisser Burke
was telling me card party and letting on the child was sick (gobmust
have done about a gallon) flabbyarse of a wife speaking down the tube
SHE'S BETTER or SHE'S (ow!) all a plan so he could vamoose with the
pool if he won or (Jesusfull up I was) trading without a licence (ow!)
Ireland my nation says he (hoik! phthook!) never be up to those
bloody (there's the last of it) Jerusalem (ah!) cuckoos.

So anyhow when I got back they were at it dingdongJohn Wyse
saying it was Bloom gave the ideas for Sinn Fein to Griffith to put in his
paper all kinds of jerrymanderingpacked juries and swindling the taxes
off of the government and appointing consuls all over the world to walk
about selling Irish industries. Robbing Peter to pay Paul. Gobthat puts
the bloody kybosh on it if old sloppy eyes is mucking up the show. Give us
a bloody chance. God save Ireland from the likes of that bloody
mouseabout. Mr Bloom with his argol bargol. And his old fellow before him
perpetrating fraudsold Methusalem Bloomthe robbing bagmanthat
poisoned himself with the prussic acid after he swamping the country with
his baubles and his penny diamonds. Loans by post on easy terms. Any
amount of money advanced on note of hand. Distance no object. No security.
Gobhe's like Lanty MacHale's goat that'd go a piece of the road with
every one.

--Wellit's a factsays John Wyse. And there's the man now that'll tell
you all about itMartin Cunningham.

Sure enough the castle car drove up with Martin on it and Jack Power
with him and a fellow named Crofter or Croftonpensioner out of the
collector general'san orangeman Blackburn does have on the registration
and he drawing his pay or Crawford gallivanting around the country at the
king's expense.

Our travellers reached the rustic hostelry and alighted from their
palfreys.

--Hovarlet! cried hewho by his mien seemed the leader of the party.
Saucy knave! To us!

So saying he knocked loudly with his swordhilt upon the open lattice.

Mine host came forth at the summonsgirding him with his tabard.

--Give you good denmy masterssaid he with an obsequious bow.

--Bestir thyselfsirrah! cried he who had knocked. Look to our steeds.
And for ourselves give us of your best for ifaith we need it.

--Lackadaygood masterssaid the hostmy poor house has but a bare
larder. I know not what to offer your lordships.

--How nowfellow? cried the second of the partya man of pleasant
countenanceSo servest thou the king's messengersmaster Taptun?

An instantaneous change overspread the landlord's visage.

--Cry you mercygentlemenhe said humbly. An you be the king's
messengers (God shield His Majesty!) you shall not want for aught. The
king's friends (God bless His Majesty!) shall not go afasting in my house
I warrant me.

--Then about! cried the traveller who had not spokena lusty trencherman
by his aspect. Hast aught to give us?


Mine host bowed again as he made answer:

--What say yougood mastersto a squab pigeon pastysome collops of
venisona saddle of vealwidgeon with crisp hog's bacona boar's head
with pistachiosa bason of jolly custarda medlar tansy and a flagon of
old Rhenish?

--Gadzooks! cried the last speaker. That likes me well. Pistachios!

--Aha! cried he of the pleasant countenance. A poor house and a bare
larderquotha! 'Tis a merry rogue.

So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom.

--Where is he? says Lenehan. Defrauding widows and orphans.

--Isn't that a factsays John Wysewhat I was telling the citizen about
Bloom and the Sinn Fein?

--That's sosays Martin. Or so they allege.

--Who made those allegations? says Alf.

--Isays Joe. I'm the alligator.

--And after allsays John Wysewhy can't a jew love his country like the
next fellow?

--Why not? says J. J.when he's quite sure which country it is.

--Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the hell
is he? says Ned. Or who is he? No offenceCrofton.

--Who is Junius? says J. J.

--We don't want himsays Crofter the Orangeman or presbyterian.

--He's a perverted jewsays Martinfrom a place in Hungary and it was he
drew up all the plans according to the Hungarian system. We know that in
the castle.

--Isn't he a cousin of Bloom the dentist? says Jack Power.

--Not at allsays Martin. Only namesakes. His name was Viragthe
father's name that poisoned himself. He changed it by deedpollthe father
did.

--That's the new Messiah for Ireland! says the citizen. Island of saints
and sages!

--Wellthey're still waiting for their redeemersays Martin. For that
matter so are we.

--Yessays J. J.and every male that's born they think it may be their
Messiah. And every jew is in a tall state of excitementI believetill
he knows if he's a father or a mother.

--Expecting every moment will be his nextsays Lenehan.

--Oby Godsays Nedyou should have seen Bloom before that son of his
that died was born. I met him one day in the south city markets buying a
tin of Neave's food six weeks before the wife was delivered.


--EN VENTRE SA MEREsays J. J.

--Do you call that a man? says the citizen.

--I wonder did he ever put it out of sightsays Joe.

--Wellthere were two children born anyhowsays Jack Power.

--And who does he suspect? says the citizen.

Gobthere's many a true word spoken in jest. One of those mixed
middlings he is. Lying up in the hotel Pisser was telling me once a month
with headache like a totty with her courses. Do you know what I'm telling
you? It'd be an act of God to take a hold of a fellow the like of that and
throw him in the bloody sea. Justifiable homicideso it would. Then
sloping off with his five quid without putting up a pint of stuff like a
man. Give us your blessing. Not as much as would blind your eye.

--Charity to the neighboursays Martin. But where is he? We can't wait.

--A wolf in sheep's clothingsays the citizen. That's what he is. Virag
from Hungary! Ahasuerus I call him. Cursed by God.

--Have you time for a brief libationMartin? says Ned.

--Only onesays Martin. We must be quick. J. J. and S.

--YouJack? Crofton? Three half onesTerry.

--Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar and convert us
says the citizenafter allowing things like that to contaminate our
shores.

--Wellsays Martinrapping for his glass. God bless all here is my
prayer.

--Amensays the citizen.

--And I'm sure He willsays Joe.

And at the sound of the sacring bellheaded by a crucifer with acolytes
thurifersboatbearersreadersostiariideacons and subdeacons
the blessed company drew nigh of mitred abbots and priors and guardians
and monks and friars: the monks of Benedict of SpoletoCarthusians and
CamaldolesiCistercians and OlivetansOratorians and Vallombrosans
and the friars of AugustineBrigittinesPremonstratensiansServi
Trinitariansand the children of Peter Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel
mount the children of Elijah prophet led by Albert bishop and by Teresa of
Avilacalced and other: and friarsbrown and greysons of poor Francis
capuchinscordeliersminimes and observants and the daughters of Clara:
and the sons of Dominicthe friars preachersand the sons of Vincent:
and the monks of S. Wolstan: and Ignatius his children: and the
confraternity of the christian brothers led by the reverend brother
Edmund Ignatius Rice. And after came all saints and martyrs
virgins and confessors: S. Cyr and S. Isidore Arator and S. James the
Less and S. Phocas of Sinope and S. Julian Hospitator and S. Felix
de Cantalice and S. Simon Stylites and S. Stephen Protomartyr and

S. John of God and S. Ferreol and S. Leugarde and S. Theodotus and S.
Vulmar and S. Richard and S. Vincent de Paul and S. Martin of Todi
and S. Martin of Tours and S. Alfred and S. Joseph and S.
Denis and S. Cornelius and S. Leopold and S. Bernard and S. Terence and
S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous
and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S.
Synonymous and S. Laurence O'Toole and S. James of Dingle and

Compostella and S. Columcille and S. Columba and S. Celestine and S.
Colman and S. Kevin and S. Brendan and S. Frigidian and S. Senan and S.
Fachtna and S. Columbanus and S. Gall and S. Fursey and S. Fintan and S.
Fiacre and S. John Nepomuc and S. Thomas Aquinas and S. Ives of
Brittany and S. Michan and S. Herman-Joseph and the three patrons of
holy youth S. Aloysius Gonzaga and S. Stanislaus Kostka and S. John
Berchmans and the saints GervasiusServasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride
and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S.
Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and
Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S.
Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and S.
Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and the
Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica
and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. And all came with nimbi and
aureoles and gloriaebearing palms and harps and swords and olive
crownsin robes whereon were woven the blessed symbols of their
efficaciesinkhornsarrowsloavescrusesfettersaxestrees
bridgesbabes in a bathtubshellswalletsshearskeysdragons
liliesbuckshotbeardshogslampsbellowsbeehivessoupladles
starssnakesanvilsboxes of vaselinebellscrutchesforceps
stags' hornswatertight bootshawksmillstoneseyes on a dishwax
candlesaspergillsunicorns. And as they wended their way by Nelson's
PillarHenry streetMary streetCapel streetLittle Britain street
chanting the introit in EPIPHANIA DOMINI which beginneth SURGE
ILLUMINARE and thereafter most sweetly the gradual OMNES which saith
DE SABA VENIENT they did divers wonders such as casting out devils
raising the dead to lifemultiplying fisheshealing the halt and the
blinddiscovering various articles which had been mislaidinterpreting
and fulfilling the scripturesblessing and prophesying. And lastbeneath
a canopy of cloth of gold came the reverend Father O'Flynn attended by
Malachi and Patrick. And when the good fathers had reached the appointed
placethe house of Bernard Kiernan and Colimited89 and 10 little
Britain streetwholesale grocerswine and brandy shipperslicensed fo
the sale of beerwine and spirits for consumption on the premisesthe
celebrant blessed the house and censed the mullioned windows and the
groynes and the vaults and the arrises and the capitals and the pediments
and the cornices and the engrailed arches and the spires and the cupolas
and sprinkled the lintels thereof with blessed water and prayed that God
might bless that house as he had blessed the house of Abraham and Isaac
and Jacob and make the angels of His light to inhabit therein. And
entering he blessed the viands and the beverages and the company of all
the blessed answered his prayers.

--ADIUTORIUM NOSTRUM IN NOMINE DOMINI.

--QUI FECIT COELUM ET TERRAM.

--DOMINUS VOBISCUM.

--ET CUM SPIRITU TUO.

And he laid his hands upon that he blessed and gave thanks and he
prayed and they all with him prayed:

--DEUSCUIUS VERBO SANCTIFICANTUR OMNIABENEDICTIONEM TUAM EFFUNDE SUPER
CREATURAS ISTAS: ET PRAESTA UT QUISQUIS EIS SECUNDUM LEGEM ET VOLUNTATEM
TUAM CUM GRATIARUM ACTIONE USUS FUERIT PER INVOCATIONEM SANCTISSIMI
NOMINIS TUI CORPORIS SANITATEM ET ANIMAE TUTELAM TE AUCTORE PERCIPIAT PER
CHRISTUM DOMINUM NOSTRUM.

--And so say all of ussays Jack.

--Thousand a yearLambertsays Crofton or Crawford.


--Rightsays Nedtaking up his John Jameson. And butter for fish.

I was just looking around to see who the happy thought would strike
when be damned but in he comes again letting on to be in a hell of a
hurry.

--I was just round at the courthousesays helooking for you. I hope I'm
not ...

--Nosays Martinwe're ready.

Courthouse my eye and your pockets hanging down with gold and silver.
Mean bloody scut. Stand us a drink itself. Devil a sweet fear! There's
a jew for you! All for number one. Cute as a shithouse rat. Hundred to
five.

--Don't tell anyonesays the citizen

--Beg your pardonsays he.

--Come on boyssays Martinseeing it was looking blue. Come along now.

--Don't tell anyonesays the citizenletting a bawl out of him. It's a
secret.

And the bloody dog woke up and let a growl.

--Bye bye allsays Martin.

And he got them out as quick as he couldJack Power and Crofton or
whatever you call him and him in the middle of them letting on to be all
at sea and up with them on the bloody jaunting car.

---Off with yousays

Martin to the jarvey.

The milkwhite dolphin tossed his mane andrising in the golden poop
the helmsman spread the bellying sail upon the wind and stood off forward
with all sail setthe spinnaker to larboard. A many comely nymphs drew
nigh to starboard and to larboard andclinging to the sides of the noble
barkthey linked their shining forms as doth the cunning wheelwright when
he fashions about the heart of his wheel the equidistant rays whereof each
one is sister to another and he binds them all with an outer ring and
giveth speed to the feet of men whenas they ride to a hosting or contend
for the smile of ladies fair. Even so did they come and set themthose
willing nymphsthe undying sisters. And they laughedsporting in a
circle of their foam: and the bark clave the waves.

But begob I was just lowering the heel of the pint when I saw the
citizen getting up to waddle to the doorpuffing and blowing with the
dropsyand he cursing the curse of Cromwell on himbellbook and candle
in Irishspitting and spatting out of him and Joe and little Alf round
him like a leprechaun trying to peacify him.

--Let me alonesays he.

And begob he got as far as the door and they holding him and he
bawls out of him:

--Three cheers for Israel!

Arrahsit down on the parliamentary side of your arse for Christ'


sake and don't be making a public exhibition of yourself. Jesusthere's
always some bloody clown or other kicking up a bloody murder about
bloody nothing. Gobit'd turn the porter sour in your gutsso it would.

And all the ragamuffins and sluts of the nation round the door and Martin
telling the jarvey to drive ahead and the citizen bawling and Alf and
Joe at him to whisht and he on his high horse about the jews and the
loafers calling for a speech and Jack Power trying to get him to sit down
on the car and hold his bloody jaw and a loafer with a patch over his eye
starts singing IF THE MAN IN THE MOON WAS A JEWJEWJEW and a slut
shouts out of her:

--Ehmister! Your fly is openmister!

And says he:

--Mendelssohn was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza.
And the Saviour was a jew and his father was a jew. Your God.

--He had no fathersays Martin. That'll do now. Drive ahead.

--Whose God? says the citizen.

--Wellhis uncle was a jewsays he. Your God was a jew. Christ was a jew
like me.

Gobthe citizen made a plunge back into the shop.

--By Jesussays heI'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy
name.

By JesusI'll crucify him so I will. Give us that biscuitbox here.

--Stop! Stop! says Joe.

A large and appreciative gathering of friends and acquaintances from
the metropolis and greater Dublin assembled in their thousands to bid
farewell to Nagyasagos uram Lipoti Viraglate of Messrs Alexander
Thom'sprinters to His Majestyon the occasion of his departure for the
distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas (Meadow of
Murmuring Waters). The ceremony which went off with great ECLAT was
characterised by the most affecting cordiality. An illuminated scroll of
ancient Irish vellumthe work of Irish artistswas presented to the
distinguished phenomenologist on behalf of a large section of the
community and was accompanied by the gift of a silver caskettastefully
executed in the style of ancient Celtic ornamenta work which reflects
every credit on the makersMessrs Jacob AGUS Jacob. The departing guest
was the recipient of a hearty ovationmany of those who were present
being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck up the
wellknown strains of COME BACK TO ERINfollowed immediately by RAKOCZSY'S
MARCH. Tarbarrels and bonfires were lighted along the coastline of the four
seas on the summits of the Hill of HowthThree Rock MountainSugarloaf
Bray Headthe mountains of Mournethe Galteesthe Ox and Donegal and
Sperrin peaksthe Nagles and the Bograghsthe Connemara hillsthe reeks
of M GillicuddySlieve AughtySlieve Bernagh and Slieve Bloom. Amid
cheers that rent the welkinresponded to by answering cheers from a big
muster of henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hillsthe
mastodontic pleasureship slowly moved away saluted by a final floral
tribute from the representatives of the fair sex who were present in large
numbers whileas it proceeded down the riverescorted by a flotilla of
bargesthe flags of the Ballast office and Custom House were dipped in
salute as were also those of the electrical power station at the
Pigeonhouse and the Poolbeg Light. VISSZONTLATASRAKEDVES BARATON!
VISSZONTLATASRA! Gone but not forgotten.


Gobthe devil wouldn't stop him till he got hold of the bloody tin
anyhow and out with him and little Alf hanging on to his elbow and he
shouting like a stuck pigas good as any bloody play in the Queen's royal
theatre:

--Where is he till I murder him?

And Ned and J. J. paralysed with the laughing.

--Bloody warssays II'll be in for the last gospel.

But as luck would have it the jarvey got the nag's head round the
other way and off with him.

--Hold oncitizensays Joe. Stop!

Begob he drew his hand and made a swipe and let fly. Mercy of God the sun
was in his eyes or he'd have left him for dead. Gobhe near sent it
into the county Longford. The bloody nag took fright and the old mongrel
after the car like bloody hell and all the populace shouting and laughing
and the old tinbox clattering along the street.

The catastrophe was terrific and instantaneous in its effect. The
observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocksall of the fifth
grade of Mercalli's scaleand there is no record extant of a similar
seismic disturbance in our island since the earthquake of 1534the
year of the rebellion of Silken Thomas. The epicentre appears to have
been that part of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn's Quay
ward and parish of Saint Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres
two roods and one square pole or perch. All the lordly residences in
the vicinity of the palace of justice were demolished and that noble
edifice itselfin which at the time of the catastrophe important
legal debates were in progressis literally a mass of ruins beneath
which it is to be feared all the occupants have been buried alive.
From the reports of eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves
were accompanied by a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic
character. An article of headgear since ascertained to belong to the much
respected clerk of the crown and peace Mr George Fottrell and a silk
umbrella with gold handle with the engraved initialscrestcoat of arms
and house number of the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter
sessions sir Frederick Falkinerrecorder of Dublinhave been discovered
by search parties in remote parts of the island respectivelythe former
on the third basaltic ridge of the giant's causewaythe latter embedded
to the extent of one foot three inches in the sandy beach of Holeopen
bay near the old head of Kinsale. Other eyewitnesses depose that they
observed an incandescent object of enormous proportions hurtling through
the atmosphere at a terrifying velocity in a trajectory directed
southwest by west. Messages of condolence and sympathy are being
hourly received from all parts of the different continents and the
sovereign pontiff has been graciously pleased to decree that a
special MISSA PRO DEFUNCTIS shall be celebrated simultaneously by
the ordinaries of each and every cathedral church of all the episcopal
dioceses subject to the spiritual authority of the Holy See in suffrage of
the souls of those faithful departed who have been so unexpectedly called
away from our midst. The work of salvageremoval of DEBRIShuman remains
etc has been entrusted to Messrs Michael Meade and Son159 Great
Brunswick streetand Messrs T. and C. Martin777879 and 80 North
Wallassisted by the men and officers of the Duke of Cornwall's light
infantry under the general supervision of H. R. H.rear admiralthe
right honourable sir Hercules Hannibal Habeas Corpus AndersonK. G.

K. P.K. T.P. C.K. C. B.M. PJ. P.M. B.D. S. O.S. O. D.
M. F. H.M. R. I. A.B. L.Mus. Doc.P. L. G.F. T. C. D.
F. R. U. I.F. R. C. P. I. and F. R. C. S. I.

You never saw the like of it in all your born puff. Gobif he got that
lottery ticket on the side of his poll he'd remember the gold cup
he would sobut begob the citizen would have been lagged for assault
and battery and Joe for aiding and abetting. The jarvey saved his life
by furious driving as sure as God made Moses. What? OJesushe did.
And he let a volley of oaths after him.

--Did I kill himsays heor what?

And he shouting to the bloody dog:

--After himGarry! After himboy!

And the last we saw was the bloody car rounding the corner and old
sheepsface on it gesticulating and the bloody mongrel after it with his
lugs back for all he was bloody well worth to tear him limb from limb.
Hundred to five! Jesushe took the value of it out of himI promise you.

Whenlothere came about them all a great brightness and they
beheld the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven. And they beheld
Him in the chariotclothed upon in the glory of the brightnesshaving
raiment as of the sunfair as the moon and terrible that for awe they
durst not look upon Him. And there came a voice out of heavencalling:
ELIJAH! ELIJAH! And He answered with a main cry: ABBA! ADONAI! And they
beheld Him even Himben Bloom Elijahamid clouds of angels ascend
to the glory of the brightness at an angle of fortyfive degrees over
Donohoe's in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel.

* * * * * * *

The summer evening had begun to fold the world in its mysterious
embrace. Far away in the west the sun was setting and the last glow of all
too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and strandon the proud
promontory of dear old Howth guarding as ever the waters of the bayon
the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore andlast but not leaston the
quiet church whence there streamed forth at times upon the stillness the
voice of prayer to her who is in her pure radiance a beacon ever to the
stormtossed heart of manMarystar of the sea.

The three girl friends were seated on the rocksenjoying the evening
scene and the air which was fresh but not too chilly. Many a time and oft
were they wont to come there to that favourite nook to have a cosy chat
beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminineCissy Caffrey and
Edy Boardman with the baby in the pushcar and Tommy and Jacky
Caffreytwo little curlyheaded boysdressed in sailor suits with caps to
match and the name H.M.S. Belleisle printed on both. For Tommy and
Jacky Caffrey were twinsscarce four years old and very noisy and spoiled
twins sometimes but for all that darling little fellows with bright merry
faces and endearing ways about them. They were dabbling in the sand with
their spades and bucketsbuilding castles as children door playing with
their big coloured ballhappy as the day was long. And Edy Boardman was
rocking the chubby baby to and fro in the pushcar while that young
gentleman fairly chuckled with delight. He was but eleven months and nine
days old andthough still a tiny toddlerwas just beginning to lisp his
first babyish words. Cissy Caffrey bent over to him to tease his fat
little plucks and the dainty dimple in his chin.

--NowbabyCissy Caffrey said. Say out bigbig. I want a drink of
water.

And baby prattled after her:


--A jink a jink a jawbo.

Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she was awfully fond of children
so patient with little sufferers and Tommy Caffrey could never be got to
take his castor oil unless it was Cissy Caffrey that held his nose and
promised him the scatty heel of the loaf or brown bread with golden syrup
on. What a persuasive power that girl had! But to be sure baby Boardman
was as good as golda perfect little dote in his new fancy bib. None of
your spoilt beautiesFlora MacFlimsy sortwas Cissy Caffrey.
A truerhearted lass never drew the breath of lifealways with a laugh in
her gipsylike eyes and a frolicsome word on her cherryripe red lipsa
girl lovable in the extreme. And Edy Boardman laughed too at the quaint
language of little brother.

But just then there was a slight altercation between Master Tommy
and Master Jacky. Boys will be boys and our two twins were no exception
to this golden rule. The apple of discord was a certain castle of sand
which Master Jacky had built and Master Tommy would have it right go wrong
that it was to be architecturally improved by a frontdoor like the
Martello tower had. But if Master Tommy was headstrong Master Jacky was
selfwilled too andtrue to the maxim that every little Irishman's house
is his castlehe fell upon his hated rival and to such purpose that the
wouldbe assailant came to grief and (alas to relate!) the coveted castle
too. Needless to say the cries of discomfited Master Tommy drew the
attention of the girl friends.

--Come hereTommyhis sister called imperatively. At once! And you
Jackyfor shame to throw poor Tommy in the dirty sand. Wait till I catch
you for that.

His eyes misty with unshed tears Master Tommy came at her call for
their big sister's word was law with the twins. And in a sad plight he was
too after his misadventure. His little man-o'-war top and unmentionables
were full of sand but Cissy was a past mistress in the art of smoothing
over life's tiny troubles and very quickly not one speck of sand was
to be seen on his smart little suit. Still the blue eyes were glistening
with hot tears that would well up so she kissed away the hurtness and
shook her hand at Master Jacky the culprit and said if she was near
him she wouldn't be far from himher eyes dancing in admonition.

--Nasty bold Jacky! she cried.

She put an arm round the little mariner and coaxed winningly:

--What's your name? Butter and cream?

--Tell us who is your sweetheartspoke Edy Boardman. Is Cissy your
sweetheart?

--Naotearful Tommy said.

--Is Edy Boardman your sweetheart? Cissy queried.

--NaoTommy said.

--I knowEdy Boardman said none too amiably with an arch glance from
her shortsighted eyes. I know who is Tommy's sweetheart. Gerty is
Tommy's sweetheart.

--NaoTommy said on the verge of tears.

Cissy's quick motherwit guessed what was amiss and she whispered
to Edy Boardman to take him there behind the pushcar where the


gentleman couldn't see and to mind he didn't wet his new tan shoes.

But who was Gerty?

Gerty MacDowell who was seated near her companionslost in
thoughtgazing far away into the distance wasin very truthas fair a
specimen of winsome Irish girlhood as one could wish to see. She was
pronounced beautiful by all who knew her thoughas folks often saidshe
was more a Giltrap than a MacDowell. Her figure was slight and graceful
inclining even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had been taking of
late had done her a world of good much better than the Widow Welch's
female pills and she was much better of those discharges she used to get
and that tired feeling. The waxen pallor of her face was almost spiritual
in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a genuine Cupid's
bowGreekly perfect. Her hands were of finely veined alabaster
with tapering fingers and as white as lemonjuice and queen of ointments
could make them though it was not true that she used to wear kid gloves
in bed or take a milk footbath either. Bertha Supple told that once
to Edy Boardmana deliberate liewhen she was black out at daggers
drawn with Gerty (the girl chums had of course their little tiffs
from time to time like the rest of mortals) and she told her not to
let on whatever she did that it was her that told her or she'd never
speak to her again. No. Honour where honour is due. There was an
innate refinementa languid queenly HAUTEUR about Gerty which
was unmistakably evidenced in her delicate hands and higharched instep.
Had kind fate but willed her to be born a gentlewoman of high degree in
her own right and had she only received the benefit of a good education
Gerty MacDowell might easily have held her own beside any lady in the
land and have seen herself exquisitely gowned with jewels on her brow and
patrician suitors at her feet vying with one another to pay their devoirs
to her. Mayhap it was thisthe love that might have beenthat lent to
her softlyfeatured face at whiles a looktense with suppressed meaning
that imparted a strange yearning tendency to the beautiful eyesa charm
few could resist. Why have women such eyes of witchery? Gerty's were of
the bluest Irish blueset off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive
brows. Time was when those brows were not so silkily seductive. It was
Madame Vera Veritydirectress of the Woman Beautiful page of the Princess
Novelettewho had first advised her to try eyebrowleine which gave that
haunting expression to the eyesso becoming in leaders of fashionand
she had never regretted it. Then there was blushing scientifically cured
and how to be tall increase your height and you have a beautiful face but
your nose? That would suit Mrs Dignam because she had a button one. But
Gerty's crowning glory was her wealth of wonderful hair. It was dark brown
with a natural wave in it. She had cut it that very morning on account
of the new moon and it nestled about her pretty head in a profusion of
luxuriant clusters and pared her nails tooThursday for wealth. And just
now at Edy's words as a telltale flushdelicate as the faintest
rosebloomcrept into her cheeks she looked so lovely in her sweet girlish
shyness that of a surety God's fair land of Ireland did not hold
her equal.

For an instant she was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. She was
about to retort but something checked the words on her tongue. Inclination
prompted her to speak out: dignity told her to be silent. The pretty lips
pouted awhile but then she glanced up and broke out into a joyous little
laugh which had in it all the freshness of a young May morning. She knew
right wellno-one betterwhat made squinty Edy say that because of him
cooling in his attentions when it was simply a lovers' quarrel. As per
usual somebody's nose was out of joint about the boy that had the bicycle
off the London bridge road always riding up and down in front of her
window. Only now his father kept him in in the evenings studying
hard to get an exhibition in the intermediate that was on and he was
going to go to Trinity college to study for a doctor when he left
the high school like his brother W. E. Wylie who was racing in the


bicycle races in Trinity college university. Little recked he perhaps
for what she feltthat dull aching void in her heart sometimes
piercing to the core. Yet he was young and perchance he might
learn to love her in time. They were protestants in his family
and of course Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the Blessed
Virgin and then Saint Joseph. But he was undeniably handsome with an
exquisite nose and he was what he lookedevery inch a gentlemanthe
shape of his head too at the back without his cap on that she would know
anywhere something off the common and the way he turned the bicycle at
the lamp with his hands off the bars and also the nice perfume of those
good cigarettes and besides they were both of a size too he and she and
that was why Edy Boardman thought she was so frightfully clever because
he didn't go and ride up and down in front of her bit of a garden.

Gerty was dressed simply but with the instinctive taste of a votary of
Dame Fashion for she felt that there was just a might that he might be
out. A neat blouse of electric blue selftinted by dolly dyes (because it
was expected in the LADY'S PICTORIAL that electric blue would be worn)
with a smart vee opening down to the division and kerchief pocket
(in which she always kept a piece of cottonwool scented with her
favourite perfume because the handkerchief spoiled the sit) and a
navy threequarter skirt cut to the stride showed off her slim graceful
figure to perfection. She wore a coquettish little love of a hat of
wideleaved nigger straw contrast trimmed with an underbrim of eggblue
chenille and at the side a butterfly bow of silk to tone. All Tuesday
week afternoon she was hunting to match that chenille but at last
she found what she wanted at Clery's summer salesthe very itslightly
shopsoiled but you would never noticeseven fingers two and a penny. She
did it up all by herself and what joy was hers when she tried it on then
smiling at the lovely reflection which the mirror gave back to her!
And when she put it on the waterjug to keep the shape she knew that that
would take the shine out of some people she knew. Her shoes were the
newest thing in footwear (Edy Boardman prided herself that she was very
PETITE but she never had a foot like Gerty MacDowella fiveand never
would ashoak or elm) with patent toecaps and just one smart buckle over
her higharched instep. Her wellturned ankle displayed its perfect
proportions beneath her skirt and just the proper amount and no more of
her shapely limbs encased in finespun hose with highspliced heels and wide
garter tops. As for undies they were Gerty's chief care and who that knows
the fluttering hopes and fears of sweet seventeen (though Gerty would
never see seventeen again) can find it in his heart to blame her? She had
four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitcherythree garments and
nighties extraand each set slotted with different coloured ribbons
rosepinkpale bluemauve and peagreenand she aired them herself
and blued them when they came home from the wash and ironed them
and she had a brickbat to keep the iron on because she wouldn't trust
those washerwomen as far as she'd see them scorching the things.
She was wearing the blue for luckhoping against hopeher own
colour and lucky too for a bride to have a bit of blue somewhere
on her because the green she wore that day week brought grief because
his father brought him in to study for the intermediate exhibition
and because she thought perhaps he might be out because when she was
dressing that morning she nearly slipped up the old pair on her inside out
and that was for luck and lovers' meeting if you put those things on
inside out or if they got untied that he was thinking about you so long
as it wasn't of a Friday.

And yet and yet! That strained look on her face! A gnawing sorrow is
there all the time. Her very soul is in her eyes and she would give worlds
to be in the privacy of her own familiar chamber wheregiving way to
tearsshe could have a good cry and relieve her pentup feelingsthough not
too much because she knew how to cry nicely before the mirror. You are
lovelyGertyit said. The paly light of evening falls upon a face
infinitely sad and wistful. Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. Yesshe had


known from the very first that her daydream of a marriage has been
arranged and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs Reggy Wylie T. C. D.
(because the one who married the elder brother would be Mrs Wylie) and in
the fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was wearing a sumptuous
confection of grey trimmed with expensive blue fox was not to be. He was
too young to understand. He would not believe in lovea woman's
birthright. The night of the party long ago in Stoer's (he was still in
short trousers) when they were alone and he stole an arm round her waist
she went white to the very lips. He called her little one in a strangely
husky voice and snatched a half kiss (the first!) but it was only the end
of her nose and then he hastened from the room with a remark about
refreshments. Impetuous fellow! Strength of character had never been Reggy
Wylie's strong point and he who would woo and win Gerty MacDowell must be
a man among men. But waitingalways waiting to be asked and it was leap
year too and would soon be over. No prince charming is her beau ideal to
lay a rare and wondrous love at her feet but rather a manly man with a
strong quiet face who had not found his idealperhaps his hair slightly
flecked with greyand who would understandtake her in his sheltering
armsstrain her to him in all the strength of his deep passionate nature
and comfort her with a long long kiss. It would be like heaven. For such
a one she yearns this balmy summer eve. With all the heart of her she
longs to be his onlyhis affianced bride for riches for poorin sickness
in healthtill death us two partfrom this to this day forward.

And while Edy Boardman was with little Tommy behind the pushcar she was
just thinking would the day ever come when she could call herself his
little wife to be. Then they could talk about her till they went blue in
the faceBertha Supple tooand Edylittle spitfirebecause she would
be twentytwo in November. She would care for him with creature comforts
too for Gerty was womanly wise and knew that a mere man liked that
feeling of hominess. Her griddlecakes done to a goldenbrown hue and
queen Ann's pudding of delightful creaminess had won golden opinions from
all because she had a lucky hand also for lighting a firedredge in the
fine selfraising flour and always stir in the same directionthen cream
the milk and sugar and whisk well the white of eggs though she didn't like
the eating part when there were any people that made her shy and often she
wondered why you couldn't eat something poetical like violets or roses and
they would have a beautifully appointed drawingroom with pictures and
engravings and the photograph of grandpapa Giltrap's lovely dog
Garryowen that almost talked it was so human and chintz covers for the
chairs and that silver toastrack in Clery's summer jumble sales like they
have in rich houses. He would be tall with broad shoulders (she had always
admired tall men for a husband) with glistening white teeth under his
carefully trimmed sweeping moustache and they would go on the continent
for their honeymoon (three wonderful weeks!) and thenwhen they settled
down in a nice snug and cosy little homely houseevery morning they
would both have brekkysimple but perfectly servedfor their own two
selves and before he went out to business he would give his dear little
wifey a good hearty hug and gaze for a moment deep down into her eyes.

Edy Boardman asked Tommy Caffrey was he done and he said yes so
then she buttoned up his little knickerbockers for him and told him to run
off and play with Jacky and to be good now and not to fight. But Tommy
said he wanted the ball and Edy told him no that baby was playing with the
ball and if he took it there'd be wigs on the green but Tommy said it was
his ball and he wanted his ball and he pranced on the groundif you
please. The temper of him! Ohe was a man already was little Tommy
Caffrey since he was out of pinnies. Edy told him nono and to be off now
with him and she told Cissy Caffrey not to give in to him.

--You're not my sisternaughty Tommy said. It's my ball.

But Cissy Caffrey told baby Boardman to look uplook up high at her
finger and she snatched the ball quickly and threw it along the sand and


Tommy after it in full careerhaving won the day.

--Anything for a quiet lifelaughed Ciss.

And she tickled tiny tot's two cheeks to make him forget and played here's
the lord mayorhere's his two horseshere's his gingerbread carriage
and here he walks inchinchopperchinchopperchinchopper chin. But Edy
got as cross as two sticks about him getting his own way like that from
everyone always petting him.

--I'd like to give him somethingshe saidso I wouldwhere I won't say.

--On the beeoteetomlaughed Cissy merrily.

Gerty MacDowell bent down her head and crimsoned at the idea of Cissy
saying an unladylike thing like that out loud she'd be ashamed of her
life to sayflushing a deep rosy redand Edy Boardman said she was sure
the gentleman opposite heard what she said. But not a pin cared Ciss.

--Let him! she said with a pert toss of her head and a piquant tilt of her
nose. Give it to him too on the same place as quick as I'd look at him.

Madcap Ciss with her golliwog curls. You had to laugh at her
sometimes. For instance when she asked you would you have some more
Chinese tea and jaspberry ram and when she drew the jugs too and the men's
faces on her nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she
wanted to go where you know she said she wanted to run and pay a visit to
the Miss White. That was just like Cissycums. Oand will you ever forget
her the evening she dressed up in her father's suit and hat and the burned
cork moustache and walked down Tritonville roadsmoking a cigarette.
There was none to come up to her for fun. But she was sincerity itself
one of the bravest and truest hearts heaven ever madenot one of your
twofaced thingstoo sweet to be wholesome.

And then there came out upon the air the sound of voices and the
pealing anthem of the organ. It was the men's temperance retreat conducted
by the missionerthe reverend John Hughes S. J.rosarysermon and
benediction of the Most Blessed Sacrament. They were there gathered
together without distinction of social class (and a most edifying
spectacle it was to see) in that simple fane beside the waves
after the storms of this weary worldkneeling before the feet of
the immaculatereciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto
beseeching her to intercede for themthe old familiar words
holy Maryholy virgin of virgins. How sad to poor Gerty's ears!
Had her father only avoided the clutches of the demon drinkby
taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's
Weeklyshe might now be rolling in her carriagesecond to none. Over and
over had she told herself that as she mused by the dying embers in a brown
study without the lamp because she hated two lights or oftentimes gazing
out of the window dreamily by the hour at the rain falling on the rusty
bucketthinking. But that vile decoction which has ruined so many hearths
and homes had cist its shadow over her childhood days. Nayshe had even
witnessed in the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and
had seen her own fathera prey to the fumes of intoxicationforget
himself completely for if there was one thing of all things that Gerty
knew it was that the man who lifts his hand to a woman save in the way of
kindnessdeserves to be branded as the lowest of the low.

And still the voices sang in supplication to the Virgin most powerful
Virgin most merciful. And Gertyrapt in thoughtscarce saw or heard her
companions or the twins at their boyish gambols or the gentleman off
Sandymount green that Cissy Caffrey called the man that was so like
himself passing along the strand taking a short walk. You never saw him
any way screwed but still and for all that she would not like him for a


father because he was too old or something or on account of his face (it
was a palpable case of Doctor Fell) or his carbuncly nose with the pimples
on it and his sandy moustache a bit white under his nose. Poor father!
With all his faults she loved him still when he sang TELL MEMARYHOW TO
WOO THEE or MY LOVE AND COTTAGE NEAR ROCHELLE and they had stewed cockles
and lettuce with Lazenby's salad dressing for supper and when he sang THE
MOON HATH RAISED with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buriedGod
have mercy on himfrom a stroke. Her mother's birthday that was and
Charley was home on his holidays and Tom and Mr Dignam and Mrs and
Patsy and Freddy Dignam and they were to have had a group taken.
No-one would have thought the end was so near. Now he was laid to rest.
And her mother said to him to let that be a warning to him for the rest of
his days and he couldn't even go to the funeral on account of the gout and
she had to go into town to bring him the letters and samples from his
office about Catesby's cork linoartisticstandard designsfit for a
palacegives tiptop wear and always bright and cheery in the home.

A sterling good daughter was Gerty just like a second mother in the house
a ministering angel too with a little heart worth its weight in gold.
And when her mother had those raging splitting headaches who was it
rubbed the menthol cone on her forehead but Gerty though she didn't like
her mother's taking pinches of snuff and that was the only single thing
they ever had words abouttaking snuff. Everyone thought the world of her
for her gentle ways. It was Gerty who turned off the gas at the main every
night and it was Gerty who tacked up on the wall of that place where she
never forgot every fortnight the chlorate of lime Mr Tunney the grocer's
christmas almanacthe picture of halcyon days where a young gentleman in
the costume they used to wear then with a threecornered hat was offering a
bunch of flowers to his ladylove with oldtime chivalry through her lattice
window. You could see there was a story behind it. The colours were done
something lovely. She was in a soft clinging white in a studied attitude
and the gentleman was in chocolate and he looked a thorough aristocrat.
She often looked at them dreamily when she went there for a certain
purpose and felt her own arms that were white and soft just like hers with
the sleeves back and thought about those times because she had found out
in Walker's pronouncing dictionary that belonged to grandpapa Giltrap
about the halcyon days what they meant.

The twins were now playing in the most approved brotherly fashion till at
last Master Jacky who was really as bold as brass there was no getting
behind that deliberately kicked the ball as hard as ever he could down
towards the seaweedy rocks. Needless to say poor Tommy was not slow to
voice his dismay but luckily the gentleman in black who was sitting there
by himself came gallantly to the rescue and intercepted the ball. Our two
champions claimed their plaything with lusty cries and to avoid trouble
Cissy Caffrey called to the gentleman to throw it to her please. The
gentleman aimed the ball once or twice and then threw it up the strand
towards Cissy Caffrey but it rolled down the slope and stopped right under
Gerty's skirt near the little pool by the rock. The twins clamoured again
for it and Cissy told her to kick it away and let them fight for it so
Gerty drew back her foot but she wished their stupid ball hadn't come
rolling down to her and she gave a kick but she missed and Edy and Cissy
laughed.

--If you fail try againEdy Boardman said.

Gerty smiled assent and bit her lip. A delicate pink crept into her
pretty cheek but she was determined to let them see so she just lifted her
skirt a little but just enough and took good aim and gave the ball a jolly
good kick and it went ever so far and the two twins after it down towards
the shingle. Pure jealousy of course it was nothing else to draw attention
on account of the gentleman opposite looking. She felt the warm flusha
danger signal always with Gerty MacDowellsurging and flaming into her
cheeks. Till then they had only exchanged glances of the most casual but


now under the brim of her new hat she ventured a look at him and the face
that met her gaze there in the twilightwan and strangely drawnseemed
to her the saddest she had ever seen.

Through the open window of the church the fragrant incense was wafted and
with it the fragrant names of her who was conceived without stain of
original sinspiritual vesselpray for ushonourable vesselpray for
usvessel of singular devotionpray for usmystical rose. And careworn
hearts were there and toilers for their daily bread and many who had erred
and wanderedtheir eyes wet with contrition but for all that bright with
hope for the reverend father Father Hughes had told them what the great
saint Bernard said in his famous prayer of Marythe most pious Virgin's
intercessory power that it was not recorded in any age that those who
implored her powerful protection were ever abandoned by her.

The twins were now playing again right merrily for the troubles of
childhood are but as fleeting summer showers. Cissy Caffrey played with
baby Boardman till he crowed with gleeclapping baby hands in air. Peep
she cried behind the hood of the pushcar and Edy asked where was Cissy
gone and then Cissy popped up her head and cried ah! andmy word
didn't the little chap enjoy that! And then she told him to say papa.

--Say papababy. Say pa pa pa pa pa pa pa.

And baby did his level best to say it for he was very intelligent for
eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the picture of health
a perfect little bunch of loveand he would certainly turn out to be
something greatthey said.

--Haja ja ja haja.

Cissy wiped his little mouth with the dribbling bib and wanted him to sit
up properly and say pa pa pa but when she undid the strap she cried out
holy saint Denisthat he was possing wet and to double the half blanket
the other way under him. Of course his infant majesty was most
obstreperous at such toilet formalities and he let everyone know it:

--Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa.

And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. It was all no
use soothering him with nononobabyno and telling him about the
geegee and where was the puffpuff but Cissalways readywittedgave him
in his mouth the teat of the suckingbottle and the young heathen was
quickly appeased.

Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out of
that and not get on her nervesno hour to be outand the little brats
of twins. She gazed out towards the distant sea. It was like the paintings
that man used to do on the pavement with all the coloured chalks and such
a pity too leaving them there to be all blotted outthe evening and the
clouds coming out and the Bailey light on Howth and to hear the music like
that and the perfume of those incense they burned in the church like a
kind of waft. And while she gazed her heart went pitapat. Yesit was her
he was looking atand there was meaning in his look. His eyes burned into
her as though they would search her through and throughread her very
soul. Wonderful eyes they weresuperbly expressivebut could you trust
them? People were so queer. She could see at once by his dark eyes and his
pale intellectual face that he was a foreignerthe image of the photo she
had of Martin Harveythe matinee idolonly for the moustache which she
preferred because she wasn't stagestruck like Winny Rippingham that
wanted they two to always dress the same on account of a play but she
could not see whether he had an aquiline nose or a slightly RETROUSSE from
where he was sitting. He was in deep mourningshe could see thatand the
story of a haunting sorrow was written on his face. She would have given


worlds to know what it was. He was looking up so intentlyso stilland
he saw her kick the ball and perhaps he could see the bright steel buckles
of her shoes if she swung them like that thoughtfully with the toes down.
She was glad that something told her to put on the transparent stockings
thinking Reggy Wylie might be out but that was far away. Here was that of
which she had so often dreamed. It was he who mattered and there was joy
on her face because she wanted him because she felt instinctively that he
was like no-one else. The very heart of the girlwoman went out to himher
dreamhusbandbecause she knew on the instant it was him. If he had
sufferedmore sinned against than sinningor evenevenif he had been
himself a sinnera wicked manshe cared not. Even if he was a protestant
or methodist she could convert him easily if he truly loved her. There
were wounds that wanted healing with heartbalm. She was a womanly woman
not like other flighty girls unfeminine he had knownthose cyclists
showing off what they hadn't got and she just yearned to know allto
forgive all if she could make him fall in love with hermake him forget
the memory of the past. Then mayhap he would embrace her gentlylike a
real mancrushing her soft body to himand love herhis ownest girlie
for herself alone.

Refuge of sinners. Comfortress of the afflicted. ORA PRO NOBIS. Well
has it been said that whosoever prays to her with faith and constancy can
never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge for the
afflicted because of the seven dolours which transpierced her own heart.
Gerty could picture the whole scene in the churchthe stained glass
windows lighted upthe candlesthe flowers and the blue banners of the
blessed Virgin's sodality and Father Conroy was helping Canon O'Hanlon at
the altarcarrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. He looked
almost a saint and his confessionbox was so quiet and clean and dark and
his hands were just like white wax and if ever she became a Dominican nun
in their white habit perhaps he might come to the convent for the novena
of Saint Dominic. He told her that time when she told him about that in
confessioncrimsoning up to the roots of her hair for fear he could see
not to be troubled because that was only the voice of nature and we were
all subject to nature's lawshe saidin this life and that that was no
sin because that came from the nature of woman instituted by Godhe said
and that Our Blessed Lady herself said to the archangel Gabriel be it done
unto me according to Thy Word. He was so kind and holy and often and often
she thought and thought could she work a ruched teacosy with embroidered
floral design for him as a present or a clock but they had a clock she
noticed on the mantelpiece white and gold with a canarybird that came out
of a little house to tell the time the day she went there about the
flowers for the forty hours' adoration because it was hard to know what
sort of a present to give or perhaps an album of illuminated views of
Dublin or some place.

The exasperating little brats of twins began to quarrel again and Jacky
threw the ball out towards the sea and they both ran after it. Little
monkeys common as ditchwater. Someone ought to take them and give them
a good hiding for themselves to keep them in their placesthe both of
them. And Cissy and Edy shouted after them to come back because they
were afraid the tide might come in on them and be drowned.

--Jacky! Tommy!

Not they! What a great notion they had! So Cissy said it was the very
last time she'd ever bring them out. She jumped up and called them and she
ran down the slope past himtossing her hair behind her which had a good
enough colour if there had been more of it but with all the thingamerry
she was always rubbing into it she couldn't get it to grow long because it
wasn't natural so she could just go and throw her hat at it. She ran
with long gandery strides it was a wonder she didn't rip up her skirt at
the side that was too tight on her because there was a lot of the tomboy
about Cissy Caffrey and she was a forward piece whenever she thought


she had a good opportunity to show and just because she was a good runner
she ran like that so that he could see all the end of her petticoat
running and her skinny shanks up as far as possible. It would have
served her just right if she had tripped up over something accidentally
on purpose with her high crooked French heels on her to make her look
tall and got a fine tumble. TABLEAU! That would have been a very charming
expose for a gentleman like that to witness.

Queen of angelsqueen of patriarchsqueen of prophetsof all saints
they prayedqueen of the most holy rosary and then Father Conroy handed
the thurible to Canon O'Hanlon and he put in the incense and censed the
Blessed Sacrament and Cissy Caffrey caught the two twins and she was
itching to give them a ringing good clip on the ear but she didn't because
she thought he might be watching but she never made a bigger mistake in
all her life because Gerty could see without looking that he never
took his eyes off of her and then Canon O'Hanlon handed the thurible
back to Father Conroy and knelt down looking up at the Blessed Sacrament
and the choir began to sing the TANTUM ERGO and she just swung her foot
in and out in time as the music rose and fell to the TANTUMER GOSA
CRAMEN TUM. Three and eleven she paid for those stockings in Sparrow's
of George's street on the Tuesdayno the Monday before Easter and there
wasn't a brack on them and that was what he was looking attransparent
and not at her insignificant ones that had neither shape nor form
(the cheek of her!) because he had eyes in his head to see the difference
for himself.

Cissy came up along the strand with the two twins and their ball with
her hat anyhow on her to one side after her run and she did look a streel
tugging the two kids along with the flimsy blouse she bought only a
fortnight before like a rag on her back and a bit of her petticoat hanging
like a caricature. Gerty just took off her hat for a moment to settle her
hair and a prettiera daintier head of nutbrown tresses was never seen on
a girl's shoulders--a radiant little visionin soothalmost maddening in
its sweetness. You would have to travel many a long mile before you found
a head of hair the like of that. She could almost see the swift answering
flash of admiration in his eyes that set her tingling in every nerve.
She put on her hat so that she could see from underneath the brim and
swung her buckled shoe faster for her breath caught as she caught the
expression in his eyes. He was eying her as a snake eyes its prey. Her
woman's instinct told her that she had raised the devil in him and at the
thought a burning scarlet swept from throat to brow till the lovely colour
of her face became a glorious rose.

Edy Boardman was noticing it too because she was squinting at Gerty
half smilingwith her specs like an old maidpretending to nurse the
baby. Irritable little gnat she was and always would be and that was why
no-one could get on with her poking her nose into what was no concern of
hers. And she said to Gerty:

--A penny for your thoughts.

--What? replied Gerty with a smile reinforced by the whitest of teeth.
I was only wondering was it late.

Because she wished to goodness they'd take the snottynosed twins and their
babby home to the mischief out of that so that was why she just gave a
gentle hint about its being late. And when Cissy came up Edy asked her the
time and Miss Cissyas glib as you likesaid it was half past kissing
timetime to kiss again. But Edy wanted to know because they were told to
be in early.

--Waitsaid CissyI'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time
by his conundrum.


So over she went and when he saw her coming she could see him take his
hand out of his pocketgetting nervousand beginning to play with his
watchchainlooking up at the church. Passionate nature though he was
Gerty could see that he had enormous control over himself. One moment he
had been therefascinated by a loveliness that made him gazeand the
next moment it was the quiet gravefaced gentlemanselfcontrol expressed
in every line of his distinguishedlooking figure.

Cissy said to excuse her would he mind please telling her what was the
right time and Gerty could see him taking out his watchlistening to it
and looking up and clearing his throat and he said he was very sorry his
watch was stopped but he thought it must be after eight because the sun
was set. His voice had a cultured ring in it and though he spoke in
measured accents there was a suspicion of a quiver in the mellow tones.
Cissy said thanks and came back with her tongue out and said uncle said
his waterworks were out of order.

Then they sang the second verse of the TANTUM ERGO and Canon
O'Hanlon got up again and censed the Blessed Sacrament and knelt down and
he told Father Conroy that one of the candles was just going to set fire
to the flowers and Father Conroy got up and settled it all right and she
could see the gentleman winding his watch and listening to the works and
she swung her leg more in and out in time. It was getting darker but he
could see and he was looking all the time that he was winding the watch or
whatever he was doing to it and then he put it back and put his hands back
into his pockets. She felt a kind of a sensation rushing all over her and
she knew by the feel of her scalp and that irritation against her stays
that that thing must be coming on because the last time too was when she
clipped her hair on account of the moon. His dark eyes fixed themselves
on her again drinking in her every contourliterally worshipping at her
shrine. If ever there was undisguised admiration in a man's passionate
gaze it was there plain to be seen on that man's face. It is for you
Gertrude MacDowelland you know it.

Edy began to get ready to go and it was high time for her and Gerty
noticed that that little hint she gave had had the desired effect because
it was a long way along the strand to where there was the place to push up
the pushcar and Cissy took off the twins' caps and tidied their hair to
make herself attractive of course and Canon O'Hanlon stood up with his
cope poking up at his neck and Father Conroy handed him the card to read
off and he read out PANEM DE COELO PRAESTITISTI EIS and Edy and Cissy were
talking about the time all the time and asking her but Gerty could pay
them back in their own coin and she just answered with scathing politeness
when Edy asked her was she heartbroken about her best boy throwing her
over. Gerty winced sharply. A brief cold blaze shone from her eyes that
spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. It hurt--O yesit cut deep because
Edy had her own quiet way of saying things like that she knew would wound
like the confounded little cat she was. Gerty's lips parted swiftly to
frame the word but she fought back the sob that rose to her throat
so slimso flawlessso beautifully moulded it seemed one an artist
might have dreamed of. She had loved him better than he knew.
Lighthearted deceiver and fickle like all his sex he would never
understand what he had meant to her and for an instant there was
in the blue eyes a quick stinging of tears. Their eyes were
probing her mercilessly but with a brave effort she sparkled back in
sympathy as she glanced at her new conquest for them to see.

--Oresponded Gertyquick as lightninglaughingand the proud head
flashed up. I can throw my cap at who I like because it's leap year.

Her words rang out crystalclearmore musical than the cooing of the
ringdovebut they cut the silence icily. There was that in her young
voice that told that she was not a one to be lightly trifled with.
As for Mr Reggy with his swank and his bit of money she could just


chuck him aside as if he was so much filth and never again would she
cast as much as a second thought on him and tear his silly postcard
into a dozen pieces. And if ever after he dared to presume she
could give him one look of measured scorn that would make him
shrivel up on the spot. Miss puny little Edy's countenance fell to
no slight extent and Gerty could see by her looking as black as
thunder that she was simply in a towering rage though she hid itthe
little kinnattbecause that shaft had struck home for her petty jealousy
and they both knew that she was something aloofapartin another sphere
that she was not of them and never would be and there was somebody else
too that knew it and saw it so they could put that in their pipe
and smoke it.

Edy straightened up baby Boardman to get ready to go and Cissy
tucked in the ball and the spades and buckets and it was high time too
because the sandman was on his way for Master Boardman junior. And
Cissy told him too that billy winks was coming and that baby was to go
deedaw and baby looked just too duckylaughing up out of his gleeful
eyesand Cissy poked him like that out of fun in his wee fat tummy and
babywithout as much as by your leavesent up his compliments to all
and sundry on to his brandnew dribbling bib.

--O my! Puddeny pie! protested Ciss. He has his bib destroyed.

The slight CONTRETEMPS claimed her attention but in two twos she set
that little matter to rights.

Gerty stifled a smothered exclamation and gave a nervous cough and
Edy asked what and she was just going to tell her to catch it while it was
flying but she was ever ladylike in her deportment so she simply passed it
off with consummate tact by saying that that was the benediction because
just then the bell rang out from the steeple over the quiet seashore
because Canon O'Hanlon was up on the altar with the veil that Father
Conroy put round his shoulders giving the benediction with the Blessed
Sacrament in his hands.

How moving the scene there in the gathering twilightthe last glimpse of
Erinthe touching chime of those evening bells and at the same time a bat
flew forth from the ivied belfry through the duskhitherthitherwith a
tiny lost cry. And she could see far away the lights of the lighthouses so
picturesque she would have loved to do with a box of paints because it was
easier than to make a man and soon the lamplighter would be going his
rounds past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady
Tritonville avenue where the couples walked and lighting the lamp near her
window where Reggy Wylie used to turn his freewheel like she read in that
book THE LAMPLIGHTER by Miss Cumminsauthor of MABEL VAUGHAN and
other tales. For Gerty had her dreams that no-one knew of. She loved to
read poetry and when she got a keepsake from Bertha Supple of that lovely
confession album with the coralpink cover to write her thoughts in she
laid it in the drawer of her toilettable whichthough it did not err
on the side of luxurywas scrupulously neat and clean. It was there
she kept her girlish treasure trovethe tortoiseshell combsher
child of Mary badgethe whiterose scentthe eyebrowleineher
alabaster pouncetbox and the ribbons to change when her things came
home from the wash and there were some beautiful thoughts written
in it in violet ink that she bought in Hely's of Dame Street for
she felt that she too could write poetry if she could only express
herself like that poem that appealed to her so deeply that she had
copied out of the newspaper she found one evening round the potherbs. ART
THOU REALMY IDEAL? it was called by Louis J WalshMagherafeltand
after there was something about TWILIGHTWILT THOU EVER? and ofttimes
the beauty of poetryso sad in its transient lovelinesshad misted
her eyes with silent tears for she felt that the years were slipping
by for herone by oneand but for that one shortcoming she knew she


need fear no competition and that was an accident coming down Dalkey
hill and she always tried to conceal it. But it must endshe felt.
If she saw that magic lure in his eyes there would be no holding
back for her. Love laughs at locksmiths. She would make the great
sacrifice. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. Dearer than
the whole world would she be to him and gild his days with happiness.
There was the allimportant question and she was dying to know was he a
married man or a widower who had lost his wife or some tragedy like the
nobleman with the foreign name from the land of song had to have her put
into a madhousecruel only to be kind. But even if--what then? Would it
make a very great difference? From everything in the least indelicate her
finebred nature instinctively recoiled. She loathed that sort of person
the fallen women off the accommodation walk beside the Dodder that went
with the soldiers and coarse men with no respect for a girl's honour
degrading the sex and being taken up to the police station. Nono: not
that. They would be just good friends like a big brother and sister
without all that other in spite of the conventions of Society with a big
ess. Perhaps it was an old flame he was in mourning for from the days
beyond recall. She thought she understood. She would try to understand
him because men were so different. The old love was waitingwaiting
with little white hands stretched outwith blue appealing eyes. Heart
of mine! She would followher dream of lovethe dictates of her heart
that told her he was her all in allthe only man in all the world
for her for love was the master guide. Nothing else mattered. Come what
might she would be wilduntrammelledfree.

Canon O'Hanlon put the Blessed Sacrament back into the tabernacle
and genuflected and the choir sang LAUDATE DOMINUM OMNES GENTES and
then he locked the tabernacle door because the benediction was over and
Father Conroy handed him his hat to put on and crosscat Edy asked wasn't
she coming but Jacky Caffrey called out:

--OlookCissy!

And they all looked was it sheet lightning but Tommy saw it too over
the trees beside the churchblue and then green and purple.

--It's fireworksCissy Caffrey said.

And they all ran down the strand to see over the houses and the
churchhelterskelterEdy with the pushcar with baby Boardman in it and
Cissy holding Tommy and Jacky by the hand so they wouldn't fall running.

--Come onGertyCissy called. It's the bazaar fireworks.

But Gerty was adamant. She had no intention of being at their beck and
call. If they could run like rossies she could sit so she said she could
see from where she was. The eyes that were fastened upon her set
her pulses tingling. She looked at him a momentmeeting his glance
and a light broke in upon her. Whitehot passion was in that facepassion
silent as the graveand it had made her his. At last they were left
alone without the others to pry and pass remarks and she knew he
could be trusted to the deathsteadfasta sterling mana man of
inflexible honour to his fingertips. His hands and face were working
and a tremour went over her. She leaned back far to look up where
the fireworks were and she caught her knee in her hands so as not
to fall back looking up and there was no-one to see only him and
her when she revealed all her graceful beautifully shaped legs like that
supply soft and delicately roundedand she seemed to hear the panting
of his hearthis hoarse breathingbecause she knew too about the passion
of men like thathotbloodedbecause Bertha Supple told her once in dead
secret and made her swear she'd never about the gentleman lodger that was
staying with them out of the Congested Districts Board that had pictures
cut out of papers of those skirtdancers and highkickers and she said he


used to do something not very nice that you could imagine sometimes in
the bed. But this was altogether different from a thing like that
because there was all the difference because she could almost feel
him draw her face to his and the first quick hot touch of his
handsome lips. Besides there was absolution so long as you didn't
do the other thing before being married and there ought to be
women priests that would understand without your telling out and
Cissy Caffrey too sometimes had that dreamy kind of dreamy look
in her eyes so that she toomy dearand Winny Rippingham so mad
about actors' photographs and besides it was on account of that other
thing coming on the way it did.

And Jacky Caffrey shouted to lookthere was another and she leaned back
and the garters were blue to match on account of the transparent and they
all saw it and they all shouted to looklookthere it was and she leaned
back ever so far to see the fireworks and something queer was flying
through the aira soft thingto and frodark. And she saw a long Roman
candle going up over the treesupupandin the tense hush
they were all breathless with excitement as it went higher and higher
and she had to lean back more and more to look up after ithigh
highalmost out of sightand her face was suffused with a divine
an entrancing blush from straining back and he could see her other
things toonainsook knickersthe fabric that caresses the skin
better than those other pettiwidththe greenfour and eleven
on account of being white and she let him and she saw that he saw and then
it went so high it went out of sight a moment and she was trembling in
every limb from being bent so far back that he had a full view
high up above her knee where no-one ever not even on the swing or wading
and she wasn't ashamed and he wasn't either to look in that immodest way
like that because he couldn't resist the sight of the wondrous revealment
half offered like those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen
looking and he kept on lookinglooking. She would fain have cried to him
chokinglyheld out her snowy slender arms to him to cometo feel his
lips laid on her white browthe cry of a young girl's lovea little
strangled crywrung from herthat cry that has rung through the ages.
And then a rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and O! then the Roman
candle burst and it was like a sigh of O! and everyone cried O! O! in
raptures and it gushed out of it a stream of rain gold hair threads and
they shed and ah! they were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden
O so lovelyOsoftsweetsoft!

Then all melted away dewily in the grey air: all was silent. Ah! She
glanced at him as she bent forward quicklya pathetic little glance of
piteous protestof shy reproach under which he coloured like a girl
He was leaning back against the rock behind. Leopold Bloom (for it is he)
stands silentwith bowed head before those young guileless eyes. What a
brute he had been! At it again? A fair unsullied soul had called to him
andwretch that he washow had he answered? An utter cad he had been!
He of all men! But there was an infinite store of mercy in those eyes
for him too a word of pardon even though he had erred and sinned and
wandered. Should a girl tell? Noa thousand times no. That was their
secretonly theirsalone in the hiding twilight and there was none to
know or tell save the little bat that flew so softly through the evening
to and fro and little bats don't tell.

Cissy Caffrey whistledimitating the boys in the football field to show
what a great person she was: and then she cried:

--Gerty! Gerty! We're going. Come on. We can see from farther up.

Gerty had an ideaone of love's little ruses. She slipped a hand into
her kerchief pocket and took out the wadding and waved in reply of course
without letting him and then slipped it back. Wonder if he's too far to.
She rose. Was it goodbye? No. She had to go but they would meet again


thereand she would dream of that till thentomorrowof her dream of
yester eve. She drew herself up to her full height. Their souls met in a
last lingering glance and the eyes that reached her heartfull of a
strange shininghung enraptured on her sweet flowerlike face. She half
smiled at him wanlya sweet forgiving smilea smile that verged on
tearsand then they parted.

Slowlywithout looking back she went down the uneven strand to
Cissyto Edy to Jacky and Tommy Caffreyto little baby Boardman. It was
darker now and there were stones and bits of wood on the strand and slippy
seaweed. She walked with a certain quiet dignity characteristic of her but
with care and very slowly because--because Gerty MacDowell was ...

Tight boots? No. She's lame! O!

Mr Bloom watched her as she limped away. Poor girl! That's why she's left
on the shelf and the others did a sprint. Thought something was wrong by
the cut of her jib. Jilted beauty. A defect is ten times worse in a woman.
But makes them polite. Glad I didn't know it when she was on show. Hot
little devil all the same. I wouldn't mind. Curiosity like a nun or a
negress or a girl with glasses. That squinty one is delicate. Near her
monthliesI expectmakes them feel ticklish. I have such a bad headache
today. Where did I put the letter? Yesall right. All kinds of crazy
longings. Licking pennies. Girl in Tranquilla convent that nun told
me liked to smell rock oil. Virgins go mad in the end I suppose.
Sister? How many women in Dublin have it today? Marthashe. Something
in the air. That's the moon. But then why don't all women menstruate
at the same time with the same moonI mean? Depends on the time
they were born I suppose. Or all start scratch then get out of step.
Sometimes Molly and Milly together. Anyhow I got the best of that.
Damned glad I didn't do it in the bath this morning over her silly
I will punish you letter. Made up for that tramdriver this morning.
That gouger M'Coy stopping me to say nothing. And his wife
engagement in the country valisevoice like a pickaxe. Thankful for small
mercies. Cheap too. Yours for the asking. Because they want it themselves.
Their natural craving. Shoals of them every evening poured out of offices.
Reserve better. Don't want it they throw it at you. Catch em aliveO.
Pity they can't see themselves. A dream of wellfilled hose. Where was
that? Ahyes. Mutoscope pictures in Capel street: for men only. Peeping
Tom. Willy's hat and what the girls did with it. Do they snapshot
those girls or is it all a fake? LINGERIE does it. Felt for the
curves inside her DESHABILLE. Excites them also when they're. I'm all
clean come and dirty me. And they like dressing one another for the
sacrifice. Milly delighted with Molly's new blouse. At first.
Put them all on to take them all off. Molly. Why I bought her the violet
garters. Us too: the tie he worehis lovely socks and turnedup trousers.
He wore a pair of gaiters the night that first we met. His lovely
shirt was shining beneath his what? of jet. Say a woman loses a charm with
every pin she takes out. Pinned together. OMairy lost the pin of her.
Dressed up to the nines for somebody. Fashion part of their charm. Just
changes when you're on the track of the secret. Except the east: Mary
Martha: now as then. No reasonable offer refused. She wasn't in a hurry
either. Always off to a fellow when they are. They never forget an
appointment. Out on spec probably. They believe in chance because like
themselves. And the others inclined to give her an odd dig. Girl friends
at schoolarms round each other's necks or with ten fingers locked
kissing and whispering secrets about nothing in the convent garden. Nuns
with whitewashed facescool coifs and their rosaries going up and down
vindictive too for what they can't get. Barbed wire. Be sure now and write
to me. And I'll write to you. Now won't you? Molly and Josie Powell. Till
Mr Right comes alongthen meet once in a blue moon. TABLEAU! Olook
who it is for the love of God! How are you at all? What have you been
doing with yourself? Kiss and delighted tokissto see you. Picking
holes in each other's appearance. You're looking splendid. Sister souls.


Showing their teeth at one another. How many have you left? Wouldn't lend
each other a pinch of salt.

Ah!

Devils they are when that's coming on them. Dark devilish appearance.
Molly often told me feel things a ton weight. Scratch the sole of
my foot. O that way! Othat's exquisite! Feel it myself too. Good to rest
once in a way. Wonder if it's bad to go with them then. Safe in one way.
Turns milkmakes fiddlestrings snap. Something about withering plants I
read in a garden. Besides they say if the flower withers she wears she's a
flirt. All are. Daresay she felt 1. When you feel like that you often meet
what you feel. Liked me or what? Dress they look at. Always know a fellow
courting: collars and cuffs. Well cocks and lions do the same and stags.
Same time might prefer a tie undone or something. Trousers? Suppose I
when I was? No. Gently does it. Dislike rough and tumble. Kiss in the dark
and never tell. Saw something in me. Wonder what. Sooner have me as I am
than some poet chap with bearsgrease plastery hairlovelock over his
dexter optic. To aid gentleman in literary. Ought to attend to my
appearance my age. Didn't let her see me in profile. Stillyou
never know. Pretty girls and ugly men marrying. Beauty and the
beast. Besides I can't be so if Molly. Took off her hat to show
her hair. Wide brim. Bought to hide her facemeeting someone might
know herbend down or carry a bunch of flowers to smell. Hair
strong in rut. Ten bob I got for Molly's combings when we were on
the rocks in Holles street. Why not? Suppose he gave her money.
Why not? All a prejudice. She's worth tenfifteenmorea pound. What? I
think so. All that for nothing. Bold hand: Mrs Marion. Did I forget to
write address on that letter like the postcard I sent to Flynn? And the
day I went to Drimmie's without a necktie. Wrangle with Molly it was put
me off. NoI remember. Richie Goulding: he's another. Weighs on his mind.
Funny my watch stopped at half past four. Dust. Shark liver oil they use
to clean. Could do it myself. Save. Was that just when heshe?

Ohe did. Into her. She did. Done.

Ah!

Mr Bloom with careful hand recomposed his wet shirt. O Lordthat little
limping devil. Begins to feel cold and clammy. Aftereffect not pleasant.
Still you have to get rid of it someway. They don't care. Complimented
perhaps. Go home to nicey bread and milky and say night prayers with the
kiddies. Wellaren't they? See her as she is spoil all. Must have the
stage settingthe rougecostumepositionmusic. The name too. AMOURS
of actresses. Nell GwynnMrs BracegirdleMaud Branscombe. Curtain up.
Moonlight silver effulgence. Maiden discovered with pensive bosom. Little
sweetheart come and kiss me. StillI feel. The strength it gives a man.
That's the secret of it. Good job I let off there behind the wall coming
out of Dignam's. Cider that was. Otherwise I couldn't have. Makes you want
to sing after. LACAUS ESANT TARATARA. Suppose I spoke to her. What about?
Bad plan however if you don't know how to end the conversation. Ask them a
question they ask you another. Good idea if you're stuck. Gain time. But
then you're in a cart. Wonderful of course if you say: good eveningand
you see she's on for it: good evening. O but the dark evening in the
Appian way I nearly spoke to Mrs Clinch O thinking she was. Whew! Girl in
Meath street that night. All the dirty things I made her say. All wrong of
course. My arks she called it. It's so hard to find one who. Aho! If you
don't answer when they solicit must be horrible for them till they harden.
And kissed my hand when I gave her the extra two shillings. Parrots. Press
the button and the bird will squeak. Wish she hadn't called me sir. Oher
mouth in the dark! And you a married man with a single girl! That's what
they enjoy. Taking a man from another woman. Or even hear of it.
Different with me. Glad to get away from other chap's wife. Eating off his
cold plate. Chap in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle.


French letter still in my pocketbook. Cause of half the trouble. But might
happen sometimeI don't think. Come inall is prepared. I dreamt. What?
Worst is beginning. How they change the venue when it's not what they
like. Ask you do you like mushrooms because she once knew a gentleman
who. Or ask you what someone was going to say when he changed his
mind and stopped. Yet if I went the whole hogsay: I want tosomething
like that. Because I did. She too. Offend her. Then make it up. Pretend to
want something awfullythen cry off for her sake. Flatters them. She must
have been thinking of someone else all the time. What harm? Must since she
came to the use of reasonhehe and he. First kiss does the trick. The
propitious moment. Something inside them goes pop. Mushy liketell by
their eyeon the sly. First thoughts are best. Remember that till their
dying day. Mollylieutenant Mulvey that kissed her under the Moorish wall
beside the gardens. Fifteen she told me. But her breasts were developed.
Fell asleep then. After Glencree dinner that was when we drove home.
Featherbed mountain. Gnashing her teeth in sleep. Lord mayor had his eye
on her too. Val Dillon. Apoplectic.

There she is with them down there for the fireworks. My fireworks.
Up like a rocketdown like a stick. And the childrentwins they must be
waiting for something to happen. Want to be grownups. Dressing in
mother's clothes. Time enoughunderstand all the ways of the world. And
the dark one with the mop head and the nigger mouth. I knew she could
whistle. Mouth made for that. Like Molly. Why that highclass whore in
Jammet's wore her veil only to her nose. Would you mindpleasetelling
me the right time? I'll tell you the right time up a dark lane. Say prunes
and prisms forty times every morningcure for fat lips. Caressing the
little boy too. Onlookers see most of the game. Of course they understand
birdsanimalsbabies. In their line.

Didn't look back when she was going down the strand. Wouldn't give that
satisfaction. Those girlsthose girlsthose lovely seaside girls. Fine
eyes she hadclear. It's the white of the eye brings that out not so much
the pupil. Did she know what I? Course. Like a cat sitting beyond a dog's
jump. Women never meet one like that Wilkins in the high school drawing a
picture of Venus with all his belongings on show. Call that innocence?
Poor idiot! His wife has her work cut out for her. Never see them sit
on a bench marked WET PAINT. Eyes all over them. Look under the bed
for what's not there. Longing to get the fright of their lives.
Sharp as needles they are. When I said to Molly the man at the corner
of Cuffe street was goodlookingthought she might liketwigged at
once he had a false arm. Hadtoo. Where do they get that? Typist
going up Roger Greene's stairs two at a time to show her understandings.
Handed down from father tomother to daughterI mean. Bred in the
bone. Milly for example drying her handkerchief on the mirror to
save the ironing. Best place for an ad to catch a woman's eye on a
mirror. And when I sent her for Molly's Paisley shawl to Prescott's

by the way that ad I mustcarrying home the change in her stocking!
Clever little minx. I never told her. Neat way she carries parcels
too. Attract mensmall thing like that. Holding up her handshaking it
to let the blood flow back when it was red. Who did you learn that from?
Nobody. Something the nurse taught me. Odon't they know! Three years
old she was in front of Molly's dressingtablejust before we left Lombard
street west. Me have a nice pace. Mullingar. Who knows? Ways of the
world. Young student. Straight on her pins anyway not like the other.
Still she was game. LordI am wet. Devil you are. Swell of her calf.
Transparent stockingsstretched to breaking point. Not like that frump
today. A. E. Rumpled stockings. Or the one in Grafton street. White. Wow!
Beef to the heel.

A monkey puzzle rocket burstspluttering in darting crackles. Zrads
and zradszradszrads. And Cissy and Tommy and Jacky ran out to see
and Edy after with the pushcar and then Gerty beyond the curve of the
rocks. Will she? Watch! Watch! See! Looked round. She smelt an onion.


DarlingI sawyour. I saw all.

Lord!

Did me good all the same. Off colour after Kiernan'sDignam's. For
this relief much thanks. In HAMLETthat is. Lord! It was all things
combined. Excitement. When she leaned backfelt an ache at the butt of my
tongue. Your head it simply swirls. He's right. Might have made a worse
fool of myself however. Instead of talking about nothing. Then I will tell
you all. Still it was a kind of language between us. It couldn't be? No
Gerty they called her. Might be false name however like my name and the
address Dolphin's barn a blind.

HER MAIDEN NAME WAS JEMINA BROWN
AND SHE LIVED WITH HER MOTHER IN IRISHTOWN.


Place made me think of that I suppose. All tarred with the same brush

Wiping pens in their stockings. But the ball rolled down to her as if it
understood. Every bullet has its billet. Course I never could throw
anything straight at school. Crooked as a ram's horn. Sad however because
it lasts only a few years till they settle down to potwalloping and papa's
pants will soon fit Willy and fuller's earth for the baby when they hold
him out to do ah ah. No soft job. Saves them. Keeps them out of harm's
way. Nature. Washing childwashing corpse. Dignam. Children's hands
always round them. Cocoanut skullsmonkeysnot even closed at first
sour milk in their swaddles and tainted curds. Oughtn't to have given
that child an empty teat to suck. Fill it up with wind. Mrs Beaufoy
Purefoy. Must call to the hospital. Wonder is nurse Callan there still.
She used to look over some nights when Molly was in the Coffee Palace.
That young doctor O'Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. And Mrs Breen
and Mrs Dignam once like that toomarriageable. Worst of all at night
Mrs Duggan told me in the City Arms. Husband rolling in drunkstink of
pub off him like a polecat. Have that in your nose in the dark
whiff of stale boose. Then ask in the morning: was I drunk last
night? Bad policy however to fault the husband. Chickens come
home to roost. They stick by one another like glue. Maybe the
women's fault also. That's where Molly can knock spots off them. It's the
blood of the south. Moorish. Also the formthe figure. Hands felt for the
opulent. Just compare for instance those others. Wife locked up at home
skeleton in the cupboard. Allow me to introduce my. Then they trot you out
some kind of a nondescriptwouldn't know what to call her. Always see a
fellow's weak point in his wife. Still there's destiny in itfalling in
love. Have their own secrets between them. Chaps that would go to the dogs
if some woman didn't take them in hand. Then little chits of girls
height of a shilling in copperswith little hubbies. As God made them he
matched them. Sometimes children turn out well enough. Twice nought makes
one. Or old rich chap of seventy and blushing bride. Marry in May and
repent in December. This wet is very unpleasant. Stuck. Well the foreskin
is not back. Better detach.

Ow!

Other hand a sixfooter with a wifey up to his watchpocket. Long and
the short of it. Big he and little she. Very strange about my watch.
Wristwatches are always going wrong. Wonder is there any magnetic
influence between the person because that was about the time he. YesI
supposeat once. Cat's awaythe mice will play. I remember looking in
Pill lane. Also that now is magnetism. Back of everything magnetism. Earth
for instance pulling this and being pulled. That causes movement. And
timewell that's the time the movement takes. Then if one thing stopped
the whole ghesabo would stop bit by bit. Because it's all arranged.
Magnetic needle tells you what's going on in the sunthe stars. Little


piece of steel iron. When you hold out the fork. Come. Come. Tip. Woman
and man that is. Fork and steel. Mollyhe. Dress up and look and suggest
and let you see and see more and defy you if you're a man to see that and
like a sneeze cominglegslooklook and if you have any guts in you.
Tip. Have to let fly.

Wonder how is she feeling in that region. Shame all put on before
third person. More put out about a hole in her stocking. Mollyher
underjaw stuck outhead backabout the farmer in the ridingboots and
spurs at the horse show. And when the painters were in Lombard street
west. Fine voice that fellow had. How Giuglini began. Smell that I did.
Like flowers. It was too. Violets. Came from the turpentine probably in
the paint. Make their own use of everything. Same time doing it scraped
her slipper on the floor so they wouldn't hear. But lots of them can't
kick the beamI think. Keep that thing up for hours. Kind of a general
all round over me and half down my back.

Wait. Hm. Hm. Yes. That's her perfume. Why she waved her hand. I
leave you this to think of me when I'm far away on the pillow. What is it?
Heliotrope? No. Hyacinth? Hm. RosesI think. She'd like scent of that
kind. Sweet and cheap: soon sour. Why Molly likes opoponax. Suits her
with a little jessamine mixed. Her high notes and her low notes. At the
dance night she met himdance of the hours. Heat brought it out. She was
wearing her black and it had the perfume of the time before. Good
conductoris it? Or bad? Light too. Suppose there's some connection. For
instance if you go into a cellar where it's dark. Mysterious thing too.
Why did I smell it only now? Took its time in coming like herselfslow
but sure. Suppose it's ever so many millions of tiny grains blown across.
Yesit is. Because those spice islandsCinghalese this morningsmell
them leagues off. Tell you what it is. It's like a fine fine veil or web
they have all over the skinfine like what do you call it gossamerand
they're always spinning it out of themfine as anythinglike rainbow
colours without knowing it. Clings to everything she takes off. Vamp of
her stockings. Warm shoe. Stays. Drawers: little kicktaking them off.
Byby till next time. Also the cat likes to sniff in her shift on
the bed. Know her smell in a thousand. Bathwater too. Reminds me of
strawberries and cream. Wonder where it is really. There or the armpits
or under the neck. Because you get it out of all holes and corners.
Hyacinth perfume made of oil of ether or something. Muskrat.
Bag under their tails. One grain pour off odour for years. Dogs at
each other behind. Good evening. Evening. How do you sniff? Hm. Hm.
Very wellthank you. Animals go by that. Yes nowlook at it that way.
We're the same. Some womeninstancewarn you off when they have their
period. Come near. Then get a hogo you could hang your hat on. Like
what? Potted herrings gone stale or. Boof! Please keep off the grass.

Perhaps they get a man smell off us. What though? Cigary gloves long
John had on his desk the other day. Breath? What you eat and drink gives
that. No. MansmellI mean. Must be connected with that because priests
that are supposed to be are different. Women buzz round it like flies
round treacle. Railed off the altar get on to it at any cost. The tree
of forbidden priest. Ofatherwill you? Let me be the first to.
That diffuses itself all through the bodypermeates. Source of life.
And it's extremely curious the smell. Celery sauce. Let me.

Mr Bloom inserted his nose. Hm. Into the. Hm. Opening of his
waistcoat. Almonds or. No. Lemons it is. Ah nothat's the soap.

O by the by that lotion. I knew there was something on my mind.
Never went back and the soap not paid. Dislike carrying bottles like that
hag this morning. Hynes might have paid me that three shillings. I could
mention Meagher's just to remind him. Still if he works that paragraph.
Two and nine. Bad opinion of me he'll have. Call tomorrow. How much do
I owe you? Three and nine? Two and ninesir. Ah. Might stop him giving


credit another time. Lose your customers that way. Pubs do. Fellows run up
a bill on the slate and then slinking around the back streets into
somewhere else.

Here's this nobleman passed before. Blown in from the bay. Just went
as far as turn back. Always at home at dinnertime. Looks mangled out: had
a good tuck in. Enjoying nature now. Grace after meals. After supper walk
a mile. Sure he has a small bank balance somewheregovernment sit. Walk
after him now make him awkward like those newsboys me today. Still you
learn something. See ourselves as others see us. So long as women don't
mock what matter? That's the way to find out. Ask yourself who is he now.
THE MYSTERY MAN ON THE BEACHprize titbit story by Mr Leopold Bloom.
Payment at the rate of one guinea per column. And that fellow today at the
graveside in the brown macintosh. Corns on his kismet however. Healthy
perhaps absorb all the. Whistle brings rain they say. Must be some
somewhere. Salt in the Ormond damp. The body feels the atmosphere. Old
Betty's joints are on the rack. Mother Shipton's prophecy that is about
ships around they fly in the twinkling. No. Signs of rain it is. The royal
reader. And distant hills seem coming nigh.

Howth. Bailey light. Twofoursixeightnine. See. Has to change or
they might think it a house. Wreckers. Grace Darling. People afraid of the
dark. Also glowwormscyclists: lightingup time. Jewels diamonds flash
better. Women. Light is a kind of reassuring. Not going to hurt you.
Better now of course than long ago. Country roads. Run you through the
small guts for nothing. Still two types there are you bob against.
Scowl or smile. Pardon! Not at all. Best time to spray plants too in the
shade after the sun. Some light still. Red rays are longest. Roygbiv
Vance taught us: redorangeyellowgreenblueindigoviolet.
A star I see. Venus? Can't tell yet. Two. When three it's night. Were
those nightclouds there all the time? Looks like a phantom ship. No.
Wait. Trees are they? An optical illusion. Mirage. Land of the setting
sun this. Homerule sun setting in the southeast. My native land
goodnight.

Dew falling. Bad for youdearto sit on that stone. Brings on white
fluxions. Never have little baby then less he was big strong fight his way
up through. Might get piles myself. Sticks too like a summer coldsore on
the mouth. Cut with grass or paper worst. Friction of the position.
Like to be that rock she sat on. O sweet littleyou don't know how nice
you looked. I begin to like them at that age. Green apples. Grab at all
that offer. Suppose it's the only time we cross legsseated. Also the
library today: those girl graduates. Happy chairs under them. But it's
the evening influence. They feel all that. Open like flowersknow
their hourssunflowersJerusalem artichokesin ballroomschandeliers
avenues under the lamps. Nightstock in Mat Dillon's garden where I kissed
her shoulder. Wish I had a full length oilpainting of her then. June
that was too I wooed. The year returns. History repeats itself.
Ye crags and peaks I'm with you once again. Lifelovevoyage round
your own little world. And now? Sad about her lame of course but must
be on your guard not to feel too much pity. They take advantage.

All quiet on Howth now. The distant hills seem. Where we. The
rhododendrons. I am a fool perhaps. He gets the plumsand I the
plumstones. Where I come in. All that old hill has seen. Names change:
that's all. Lovers: yum yum.

Tired I feel now. Will I get up? O wait. Drained all the manhood out
of melittle wretch. She kissed me. Never again. My youth. Only once it
comes. Or hers. Take the train there tomorrow. No. Returning not the
same. Like kids your second visit to a house. The new I want. Nothing new
under the sun. Care of P. O. Dolphin's Barn. Are you not happy in your?
Naughty darling. At Dolphin's barn charades in Luke Doyle's house. Mat
Dillon and his bevy of daughters: TinyAttyFloeyMaimyLouyHetty.


Molly too. Eightyseven that was. Year before we. And the old major
partial to his drop of spirits. Curious she an only childI an only
child. So it returns. Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest
way round is the shortest way home. And just when he and she. Circus horse
walking in a ring. Rip van Winkle we played. Rip: tear in Henny Doyle's
overcoat. Van: breadvan delivering. Winkle: cockles and periwinkles. Then
I did Rip van Winkle coming back. She leaned on the sideboard watching.
Moorish eyes. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. All changed.
Forgotten. The young are old. His gun rusty from the dew.

Ba. What is that flying about? Swallow? Bat probably. Thinks I'm a tree
so blind. Have birds no smell? Metempsychosis. They believed you could be
changed into a tree from grief. Weeping willow. Ba. There he goes.
Funny little beggar. Wonder where he lives. Belfry up there. Very likely.
Hanging by his heels in the odour of sanctity. Bell scared him outI
suppose. Mass seems to be over. Could hear them all at it. Pray for us.
And pray for us. And pray for us. Good idea the repetition. Same
thing with ads. Buy from us. And buy from us. Yesthere's the light
in the priest's house. Their frugal meal. Remember about the mistake
in the valuation when I was in Thom's. Twentyeight it is. Two houses
they have. Gabriel Conroy's brother is curate. Ba. Again. Wonder why
they come out at night like mice. They're a mixed breed. Birds are
like hopping mice. What frightens themlight or noise? Better sit still.
All instinct like the bird in drouth got water out of the end of a
jar by throwing in pebbles. Like a little man in a cloak he is with tiny
hands. Weeny bones. Almost see them shimmeringkind of a bluey white.
Colours depend on the light you see. Stare the sun for example
like the eagle then look at a shoe see a blotch blob yellowish. Wants to
stamp his trademark on everything. Instancethat cat this morning on the
staircase. Colour of brown turf. Say you never see them with three
colours. Not true. That half tabbywhite tortoiseshell in the CITY ARMS
with the letter em on her forehead. Body fifty different colours. Howth
a while ago amethyst. Glass flashing. That's how that wise man what's his
name with the burning glass. Then the heather goes on fire. It can't be
tourists' matches. What? Perhaps the sticks dry rub together in the wind
and light. Or broken bottles in the furze act as a burning glass in the
sun. Archimedes. I have it! My memory's not so bad.

Ba. Who knows what they're always flying for. Insects? That bee last week
got into the room playing with his shadow on the ceiling. Might be the
one bit mecome back to see. Birds too. Never find out. Or what they say.
Like our small talk. And says she and says he. Nerve they have to fly over
the ocean and back. Lots must be killed in stormstelegraph wires.
Dreadful life sailors have too. Big brutes of oceangoing steamers
floundering along in the darklowing out like seacows. FAUGH A BALLAGH!
Out of thatbloody curse to you! Others in vesselsbit of a handkerchief
sailpitched about like snuff at a wake when the stormy winds do blow.
Married too. Sometimes away for years at the ends of the earth somewhere.
No ends really because it's round. Wife in every port they say. She has a
good job if she minds it till Johnny comes marching home again. If ever he
does. Smelling the tail end of ports. How can they like the sea? Yet they
do. The anchor's weighed. Off he sails with a scapular or a medal
on him for luck. Well. And the tephilim no what's this they call it poor
papa's father had on his door to touch. That brought us out of the land
of Egypt and into the house of bondage. Something in all those
superstitions because when you go out never know what dangers. Hanging
on to a plank or astride of a beam for grim lifelifebelt round him
gulping salt waterand that's the last of his nibs till the sharks
catch hold of him. Do fish ever get seasick?

Then you have a beautiful calm without a cloudsmooth seaplacid
crew and cargo in smithereensDavy Jones' lockermoon looking down so
peaceful. Not my faultold cockalorum.


A last lonely candle wandered up the sky from Mirus bazaar in search
of funds for Mercer's hospital and brokedroopingand shed a cluster of
violet but one white stars. They floatedfell: they faded. The shepherd's
hour: the hour of folding: hour of tryst. From house to housegiving his
everwelcome double knockwent the nine o'clock postmanthe
glowworm's lamp at his belt gleaming here and there through the laurel
hedges. And among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp at
Leahy's terrace. By screens of lighted windowsby equal gardens a shrill
voice went cryingwailing: EVENING TELEGRAPHSTOP PRESS EDITION! RESULT
OF THE GOLD CUP RACE! and from the door of Dignam's house a boy ran out
and called. Twittering the bat flew hereflew there. Far out over the
sands the coming surf creptgrey. Howth settled for slumbertired of
long daysof yumyum rhododendrons (he was old) and felt gladly the night
breeze liftruffle his fell of ferns. He lay but opened a red eye
unsleepingdeep and slowly breathingslumberous but awake. And far on
Kish bank the anchored lightship twinkledwinked at Mr Bloom.

Life those chaps out there must havestuck in the same spot. Irish
Lights board. Penance for their sins. Coastguards too. Rocket and breeches
buoy and lifeboat. Day we went out for the pleasure cruise in the Erin's
Kingthrowing them the sack of old papers. Bears in the zoo. Filthy trip.
Drunkards out to shake up their livers. Puking overboard to feed the
herrings. Nausea. And the womenfear of God in their faces. Milly
no sign of funk. Her blue scarf looselaughing. Don't know what death
is at that age. And then their stomachs clean. But being lost they fear.
When we hid behind the tree at Crumlin. I didn't want to. Mamma! Mamma!
Babes in the wood. Frightening them with masks too. Throwing them up
in the air to catch them. I'll murder you. Is it only half fun?
Or children playing battle. Whole earnest. How can people aim guns at
each other. Sometimes they go off. Poor kids! Only troubles wildfire
and nettlerash. Calomel purge I got her for that. After getting better
asleep with Molly. Very same teeth she has. What do they love?
Another themselves? But the morning she chased her with the umbrella.
Perhaps so as not to hurt. I felt her pulse. Ticking. Little hand
it was: now big. Dearest Papli. All that the hand says when you
touch. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. Her first stays I
remember. Made me laugh to see. Little paps to begin with. Left one
is more sensitiveI think. Mine too. Nearer the heart? Padding
themselves out if fat is in fashion. Her growing pains at nightcalling
wakening me. Frightened she was when her nature came on her first.
Poor child! Strange moment for the mother too. Brings back her girlhood.
Gibraltar. Looking from Buena Vista. O'Hara's tower. The seabirds
screaming. Old Barbary ape that gobbled all his family. Sundown
gunfire for the men to cross the lines. Looking out over the sea she
told me. Evening like thisbut clearno clouds. I always thought I'd
marry a lord or a rich gentleman coming with a private yacht. BUENAS
NOCHESSENORITA. EL HOMBRE AMA LA MUCHACHA HERMOSA. Why me? Because
you were so foreign from the others.

Better not stick here all night like a limpet. This weather makes you
dull. Must be getting on for nine by the light. Go home. Too late for LEAH
LILY OF KILLARNEY. No. Might be still up. Call to the hospital to see.
Hope she's over. Long day I've had. Marthathe bathfuneralhouse of
Keyesmuseum with those goddessesDedalus' song. Then that bawler in
Barney Kiernan's. Got my own back there. Drunken ranters what I said about
his God made him wince. Mistake to hit back. Or? No. Ought to go home and
laugh at themselves. Always want to be swilling in company. Afraid to be
alone like a child of two. Suppose he hit me. Look at it other way round.
Not so bad then. Perhaps not to hurt he meant. Three cheers for Israel.
Three cheers for the sister-in-law he hawked aboutthree fangs in her
mouth. Same style of beauty. Particularly nice old party for a cup of tea.
The sister of the wife of the wild man of Borneo has just come to town.
Imagine that in the early morning at close range. Everyone to his taste as
Morris said when he kissed the cow. But Dignam's put the boots on it.


Houses of mourning so depressing because you never know. Anyhow she
wants the money. Must call to those Scottish Widows as I promised. Strange
name. Takes it for granted we're going to pop off first. That widow
on Monday was it outside Cramer's that looked at me. Buried the poor
husband but progressing favourably on the premium. Her widow's mite.
Well? What do you expect her to do? Must wheedle her way along.
Widower I hate to see. Looks so forlorn. Poor man O'Connor wife and five
children poisoned by mussels here. The sewage. Hopeless. Some good
matronly woman in a porkpie hat to mother him. Take him in towplatter
face and a large apron. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomersthree shillings
a pairastonishing bargain. Plain and lovedloved for everthey say.
Ugly: no woman thinks she is. Lovelie and be handsome for tomorrow we
die. See him sometimes walking about trying to find out who played the
trick. U. p: up. Fate that is. Henot me. Also a shop often noticed.
Curse seems to dog it. Dreamt last night? Wait. Something confused. She
had red slippers on. Turkish. Wore the breeches. Suppose she does? Would
I like her in pyjamas? Damned hard to answer. Nannetti's gone. Mailboat.
Near Holyhead by now. Must nail that ad of Keyes's. Work Hynes and
Crawford. Petticoats for Molly. She has something to put in them. What's
that? Might be money.

Mr Bloom stooped and turned over a piece of paper on the strand. He
brought it near his eyes and peered. Letter? No. Can't read. Better go.
Better. I'm tired to move. Page of an old copybook. All those holes and
pebbles. Who could count them? Never know what you find. Bottle with
story of a treasure in itthrown from a wreck. Parcels post. Children
always want to throw things in the sea. Trust? Bread cast on the waters.
What's this? Bit of stick.

O! Exhausted that female has me. Not so young now. Will she come
here tomorrow? Wait for her somewhere for ever. Must come back.
Murderers do. Will I?

Mr Bloom with his stick gently vexed the thick sand at his foot. Write
a message for her. Might remain. What?

I.
Some flatfoot tramp on it in the morning. Useless. Washed away. Tide comes
here. Saw a pool near her foot. Bendsee my face theredark mirror
breathe on itstirs. All these rocks with lines and scars and letters. O
those transparent! Besides they don't know. What is the meaning of that
other world. I called you naughty boy because I do not like.


AM. A.


No room. Let it go.


Mr Bloom effaced the letters with his slow boot. Hopeless thing sand.
Nothing grows in it. All fades. No fear of big vessels coming up here.
Except Guinness's barges. Round the Kish in eighty days. Done half by
design.


He flung his wooden pen away. The stick fell in silted sandstuck.
Now if you were trying to do that for a week on end you couldn't. Chance.
We'll never meet again. But it was lovely. Goodbyedear. Thanks. Made me
feel so young.


Short snooze now if I had. Must be near nine. Liverpool boat long
gone.. Not even the smoke. And she can do the other. Did too. And Belfast.
I won't go. Race thererace back to Ennis. Let him. Just close my eyes a
moment. Won't sleepthough. Half dream. It never comes the same. Bat
again. No harm in him. Just a few.



O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw dirty bracegirdle made me
do love sticky we two naughty Grace darling she him half past the bed met
him pike hoses frillies for Raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave
under embon SENORITA young eyes Mulvey plump bubs me breadvan Winkle
red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end
Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in
her next her next.

A bat flew. Here. There. Here. Far in the grey a bell chimed. Mr
Bloom with open mouthhis left boot sanded sidewaysleanedbreathed.
Just for a few

CUCKOO
CUCKOO
CUCKOO.


The clock on the mantelpiece in the priest's house cooed where Canon
O'Hanlon and Father Conroy and the reverend John Hughes S. J. were
taking tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup
and talking about

CUCKOO
CUCKOO
CUCKOO.


Because it was a little canarybird that came out of its little house to
tell the time that Gerty MacDowell noticed the time she was there because
she was as quick as anything about a thing like thatwas Gerty MacDowell
and she noticed at once that that foreign gentleman that was sitting on
the rocks looking was

CUCKOO
CUCKOO
CUCKOO.


* * * * * * *

Deshil Holles Eamus. Deshil Holles Eamus. Deshil Holles Eamus.

Send us bright onelight oneHorhornquickening and wombfruit. Send
us bright onelight oneHorhornquickening and wombfruit. Send us
bright onelight oneHorhornquickening and wombfruit.

Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa!

Universally that person's acumen is esteemed very little perceptive
concerning whatsoever matters are being held as most profitably by mortals
with sapience endowed to be studied who is ignorant of that which the most
in doctrine erudite and certainly by reason of that in them high mind's
ornament deserving of veneration constantly maintain when by general
consent they affirm that other circumstances being equal by no exterior
splendour is the prosperity of a nation more efficaciously asserted than
by the measure of how far forward may have progressed the tribute of its
solicitude for that proliferent continuance which of evils the original if
it be absent when fortunately present constitutes the certain sign of
omnipotent nature's incorrupted benefaction. For who is there who anything
of some significance has apprehended but is conscious that that exterior


splendour may be the surface of a downwardtending lutulent reality or on
the contrary anyone so is there unilluminated as not to perceive that as
no nature's boon can contend against the bounty of increase so it behoves
every most just citizen to become the exhortator and admonisher of his
semblables and to tremble lest what had in the past been by the nation
excellently commenced might be in the future not with similar excellence
accomplished if an inverecund habit shall have gradually traduced the
honourable by ancestors transmitted customs to that thither of profundity
that that one was audacious excessively who would have the hardihood to
rise affirming that no more odious offence can for anyone be than to
oblivious neglect to consign that evangel simultaneously command and
promise which on all mortals with prophecy of abundance or with
diminution's menace that exalted of reiteratedly procreating function ever
irrevocably enjoined?

It is not why therefore we shall wonder ifas the best historians relate
among the Celtswho nothing that was not in its nature admirable admired
the art of medicine shall have been highly honoured. Not to speak of
hostelsleperyardssweating chambersplaguegravestheir greatest
doctorsthe O'Shielsthe O'Hickeysthe O'Leeshave sedulously set down
the divers methods by which the sick and the relapsed found again health
whether the malady had been the trembling withering or loose boyconnell
flux. Certainly in every public work which in it anything of gravity
contains preparation should be with importance commensurate and therefore
a plan was by them adopted (whether by having preconsidered or as the
maturation of experience it is difficult in being said which the
discrepant opinions of subsequent inquirers are not up to the present
congrued to render manifest) whereby maternity was so far from all
accident possibility removed that whatever care the patient in that
all hardest of woman hour chiefly required and not solely for the
copiously opulent but also for her who not being sufficiently moneyed
scarcely and often not even scarcely could subsist valiantly and for an
inconsiderable emolument was provided.

To her nothing already then and thenceforward was anyway able to be
molestful for this chiefly felt all citizens except with proliferent
mothers prosperity at all not to can be and as they had received eternity
gods mortals generation to befit them her beholdingwhen the case was so
hoving itselfparturient in vehicle thereward carrying desire immense
among all one another was impelling on of her to be received into that
domicile. O thing of prudent nation not merely in being seen but also
even in being related worthy of being praised that they her by
anticipation went seeing motherthat she by them suddenly to be about to
be cherished had been begun she felt!

Before born bliss babe had. Within womb won he worship. Whatever
in that one case done commodiously done was. A couch by midwives
attended with wholesome food reposefulcleanest swaddles as though
forthbringing were now done and by wise foresight set: but to this no less
of what drugs there is need and surgical implements which are pertaining
to her case not omitting aspect of all very distracting spectacles in
various latitudes by our terrestrial orb offered together with images
divine and humanthe cogitation of which by sejunct females is to
tumescence conducive or eases issue in the high sunbright wellbuilt fair
home of mothers whenostensibly far gone and reproductitiveit is come
by her thereto to lie inher term up.

Some man that wayfaring was stood by housedoor at night's
oncoming. Of Israel's folk was that man that on earth wandering far had
fared. Stark ruth of man his errand that him lone led till that house.

Of that house A. Horne is lord. Seventy beds keeps he there teeming
mothers are wont that they lie for to thole and bring forth bairns hale so
God's angel to Mary quoth. Watchers tway there walkwhite sisters in


ward sleepless. Smarts they stillsickness soothing: in twelve moons
thrice an hundred. Truest bedthanes they twain arefor Horne holding
wariest ward.

In ward wary the watcher hearing come that man mildhearted eft
rising with swire ywimpled to him her gate wide undid. Lolevin leaping
lightens in eyeblink Ireland's westward welkin. Full she drad that God the
Wreaker all mankind would fordo with water for his evil sins. Christ's
rood made she on breastbone and him drew that he would rathe infare under
her thatch. That man her will wotting worthful went in Horne's house.

Loth to irk in Horne's hall hat holding the seeker stood. On her stow
he ere was living with dear wife and lovesome daughter that then over land
and seafloor nine years had long outwandered. Once her in townhithe
meeting he to her bow had not doffed. Her to forgive now he craved with
good ground of her allowed that that of him swiftseen facehersso young
then had looked. Light swift her eyes kindledbloom of blushes his word
winning.

As her eyes then ongot his weeds swart therefor sorrow she feared.
Glad after she was that ere adread was. Her he asked if O'Hare Doctor
tidings sent from far coast and she with grameful sigh him answered that
O'Hare Doctor in heaven was. Sad was the man that word to hear that him
so heavied in bowels ruthful. All she there told himruing death for
friend so youngalgate sore unwilling God's rightwiseness to withsay. She
said that he had a fair sweet death through God His goodness with
masspriest to be shrivenholy housel and sick men's oil to his limbs. The
man then right earnest asked the nun of which death the dead man was died
and the nun answered him and said that he was died in Mona Island through
bellycrab three year agone come Childermas and she prayed to God the
Allruthful to have his dear soul in his undeathliness. He heard her sad
wordsin held hat sad staring. So stood they there both awhile in wanhope
sorrowing one with other.

Thereforeeverymanlook to that last end that is thy death and the
dust that gripeth on every man that is born of woman for as he came naked
forth from his mother's womb so naked shall he wend him at the last for to
go as he came.

The man that was come in to the house then spoke to the
nursingwoman and he asked her how it fared with the woman that lay there
in childbed. The nursingwoman answered him and said that that woman
was in throes now full three days and that it would be a hard birth unneth
to bear but that now in a little it would be. She said thereto that she
had seen many births of women but never was none so hard as was that
woman's birth. Then she set it all forth to him for because she knew the
man that time was had lived nigh that house. The man hearkened to her
words for he felt with wonder women's woe in the travail that they have of
motherhood and he wondered to look on her face that was a fair face for
any man to see but yet was she left after long years a handmaid. Nine
twelve bloodflows chiding her childless.

And whiles they spake the door of the castle was opened and there
nighed them a mickle noise as of many that sat there at meat. And there
came against the place as they stood a young learningknight yclept Dixon.
And the traveller Leopold was couth to him sithen it had happed that they
had had ado each with other in the house of misericord where this
learningknight lay by cause the traveller Leopold came there to be healed
for he was sore wounded in his breast by a spear wherewith a horrible and
dreadful dragon was smitten him for which he did do make a salve of
volatile salt and chrism as much as he might suffice. And he said now that
he should go in to that castle for to make merry with them that were
there. And the traveller Leopold said that he should go otherwhither for
he was a man of cautels and a subtile. Also the lady was of his avis and


repreved the learningknight though she trowed well that the traveller had
said thing that was false for his subtility. But the learningknight would
not hear say nay nor do her mandement ne have him in aught contrarious to
his list and he said how it was a marvellous castle. And the traveller
Leopold went into the castle for to rest him for a space being sore of
limb after many marches environing in divers lands and sometime venery.

And in the castle was set a board that was of the birchwood of
Finlandy and it was upheld by four dwarfmen of that country but they
durst not move more for enchantment. And on this board were frightful
swords and knives that are made in a great cavern by swinking demons out
of white flames that they fix then in the horns of buffalos and stags that
there abound marvellously. And there were vessels that are wrought by
magic of Mahound out of seasand and the air by a warlock with his breath
that he blases in to them like to bubbles. And full fair cheer and rich
was on the board that no wight could devise a fuller ne richer. And there
was a vat of silver that was moved by craft to open in the which lay
strange fishes withouten heads though misbelieving men nie that this
be possible thing without they see it natheless they are so. And these
fishes lie in an oily water brought there from Portugal land because
of the fatness that therein is like to the juices of the olivepress.
And also it was a marvel to see in that castle how by magic they make
a compost out of fecund wheatkidneys out of Chaldee that by aid of
certain angry spirits that they do in to it swells up wondrously like
to a vast mountain. And they teach the serpents there to entwine
themselves up on long sticks out of the ground and of the scales of
these serpents they brew out a brewage like to mead.

And the learning knight let pour for childe Leopold a draught and halp
thereto the while all they that were there drank every each. And childe
Leopold did up his beaver for to pleasure him and took apertly somewhat in
amity for he never drank no manner of mead which he then put by and
anon full privily he voided the more part in his neighbour glass and his
neighbour nist not of this wile. And he sat down in that castle with them
for to rest him there awhile. Thanked be Almighty God.

This meanwhile this good sister stood by the door and begged them at
the reverence of Jesu our alther liege Lord to leave their wassailing for
there was above one quick with childa gentle damewhose time hied fast.
Sir Leopold heard on the upfloor cry on high and he wondered what cry that
it was whether of child or woman and I marvelsaid hethat it be not
come or now. Meseems it dureth overlong. And he was ware and saw a
franklin that hight Lenehan on that side the table that was older than any
of the tother and for that they both were knights virtuous in the one
emprise and eke by cause that he was elder he spoke to him full gently.
Butsaid heor it be long too she will bring forth by God His bounty and
have joy of her childing for she hath waited marvellous long. And the
franklin that had drunken saidExpecting each moment to be her next.
Also he took the cup that stood tofore him for him needed never none
asking nor desiring of him to drink andNow drinksaid hefully
delectablyand he quaffed as far as he might to their both's health
for he was a passing good man of his lustiness. And sir Leopold
that was the goodliest guest that ever sat in scholars' hall and
that was the meekest man and the kindest that ever laid husbandly
hand under hen and that was the very truest knight of the world
one that ever did minion service to lady gentle pledged him courtly in
the cup. Woman's woe with wonder pondering.

Now let us speak of that fellowship that was there to the intent to be
drunken an they might. There was a sort of scholars along either side the
boardthat is to witDixon yclept junior of saint Mary Merciable's with
other his fellows Lynch and Maddenscholars of medicineand the franklin
that hight Lenehan and one from Alba Longaone Crotthersand young
Stephen that had mien of a frere that was at head of the board and


Costello that men clepen Punch Costello all long of a mastery of him
erewhile gested (and of all themreserved young Stephenhe was the most
drunken that demanded still of more mead) and beside the meek sir
Leopold. But on young Malachi they waited for that he promised to
have come and such as intended to no goodness said how he had broke
his avow. And sir Leopold sat with them for he bore fast friendship
to sir Simon and to this his son young Stephen and for that his languor
becalmed him there after longest wanderings insomuch as they feasted
him for that time in the honourablest manner. Ruth red himlove led
on with will to wanderloth to leave.

For they were right witty scholars. And he heard their aresouns each
gen other as touching birth and righteousnessyoung Madden maintaining
that put such case it were hard the wife to die (for so it had fallen out
a matter of some year agone with a woman of Eblana in Horne's house that
now was trespassed out of this world and the self night next before her
death all leeches and pothecaries had taken counsel of her case). And they
said farther she should live because in the beginningthey saidthe
woman should bring forth in pain and wherefore they that were of this
imagination affirmed how young Madden had said truth for he had conscience
to let her die. And not few and of these was young Lynch were in doubt
that the world was now right evil governed as it was never other howbeit
the mean people believed it otherwise but the law nor his judges did
provide no remedy. A redress God grant. This was scant said but all cried
with one acclaim nayby our Virgin Motherthe wife should live and the
babe to die. In colour whereof they waxed hot upon that head what with
argument and what for their drinking but the franklin Lenehan was prompt
each when to pour them ale so that at the least way mirth might not lack.
Then young Madden showed all the whole affair and said how that she was
dead and how for holy religion sake by rede of palmer and bedesman and for
a vow he had made to Saint Ultan of Arbraccan her goodman husband would
not let her death whereby they were all wondrous grieved. To whom young
Stephen had these words following: Murmursirsis eke oft among lay
folk. Both babe and parent now glorify their Makerthe one in limbo
gloomthe other in purgefire. Butgramercywhat of those Godpossibled
souls that we nightly impossibilisewhich is the sin against the Holy
GhostVery GodLord and Giver of Life? Forsirshe saidour lust
is brief. We are means to those small creatures within us and nature
has other ends than we. Then said Dixon junior to Punch Costello wist
he what ends. But he had overmuch drunken and the best word he could
have of him was that he would ever dishonest a woman whoso she were
or wife or maid or leman if it so fortuned him to be delivered of his
spleen of lustihead. Whereat Crotthers of Alba Longa sang young
Malachi's praise of that beast the unicorn how once in the millennium
he cometh by his hornthe other all this whilepricked forward with
their jibes wherewith they did malice himwitnessing all and several
by saint Foutinus his engines that he was able to do any manner
of thing that lay in man to do. Thereat laughed they all right
jocundly only young Stephen and sir Leopold which never durst laugh
too open by reason of a strange humour which he would not bewray and
also for that he rued for her that bare whoso she might be or wheresoever.
Then spake young Stephen orgulous of mother Church that would cast him
out of her bosomof law of canonsof Lilithpatron of abortionsof bigness
wrought by wind of seeds of brightness or by potency of vampires mouth to
mouth oras Virgilius saithby the influence of the occident or by the reek
of moonflower or an she lie with a woman which her man has but lain with
EFFECTU SECUTOor peradventure in her bath according to the opinions of
Averroes and Moses Maimonides. He said also how at the end of the second
month a human soul was infused and how in all our holy mother foldeth
ever souls for God's greater glory whereas that earthly mother which was
but a dam to bear beastly should die by canon for so saith he that holdeth
the fisherman's sealeven that blessed Peter on which rock was holy church
for all ages founded. All they bachelors then asked of sir Leopold would he
in like case so jeopard her person as risk life to save life. A wariness of


mind he would answer as fitted all andlaying hand to jawhe said
dissemblingas his wont wasthat as it was informed himwho had ever
loved the art of physic as might a laymanand agreeing also with his
experience of so seldomseen an accident it was good for that mother Church
belike at one blow had birth and death pence and in such sort deliverly he
scaped their questions. That is truthpardysaid Dixonandor I err
a pregnant word. Which hearing young Stephen was a marvellous glad man and
he averred that he who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord for he
was of a wild manner when he was drunken and that he was now in that
taking it appeared eftsoons.

But sir Leopold was passing grave maugre his word by cause he still
had pity of the terrorcausing shrieking of shrill women in their labour
and as he was minded of his good lady Marion that had borne him an only
manchild which on his eleventh day on live had died and no man of art
could save so dark is destiny. And she was wondrous stricken of heart for
that evil hap and for his burial did him on a fair corselet of lamb's
woolthe flower of the flocklest he might perish utterly and lie
akeled (for it was then about the midst of the winter) and now Sir
Leopold that had of his body no manchild for an heir looked upon him his
friend's son and was shut up in sorrow for his forepassed happiness and
as sad as he was that him failed a son of such gentle courage (for all
accounted him of real parts) so grieved he also in no less measure for
young Stephen for that he lived riotously with those wastrels and
murdered his goods with whores.

About that present time young Stephen filled all cups that stood empty
so as there remained but little mo if the prudenter had not shadowed their
approach from him that still plied it very busily whopraying for the
intentions of the sovereign pontiffhe gave them for a pledge the vicar
of Christ which also as he said is vicar of Bray. Now drink wequod he
of this mazer and quaff ye this mead which is not indeed parcel of my body
but my soul's bodiment. Leave ye fraction of bread to them that live by
bread alone. Be not afeard neither for any want for this will comfort more
than the other will dismay. See ye here. And he showed them glistering
coins of the tribute and goldsmith notes the worth of two pound nineteen
shilling that he hadhe saidfor a song which he writ. They all admired
to see the foresaid riches in such dearth of money as was herebefore. His
words were then these as followeth: Know all menhe saidtime's ruins
build eternity's mansions. What means this? Desire's wind blasts the
thorntree but after it becomes from a bramblebush to be a rose upon the
rood of time. Mark me now. In woman's womb word is made flesh but in the
spirit of the maker all flesh that passes becomes the word that shall not
pass away. This is the postcreation. OMNIS CARO AD TE VENIET. No question
but her name is puissant who aventried the dear corse of our Agenbuyer
Healer and Herdour mighty mother and mother most venerable and
Bernardus saith aptly that She hath an OMNIPOTENTIAM DEIPARAE SUPPLICEM
that is to witan almightiness of petition because she is the second Eve
and she won ussaith Augustine toowhereas that otherour grandam
which we are linked up with by successive anastomosis of navelcords
sold us allseedbreed and generationfor a penny pippin. But here
is the matter now. Or she knew himthat second I sayand was but
creature of her creatureVERGINE MADREFIGLIA DI TUO FIGLIOor she
knew him not and then stands she in the one denial or ignorancy with
Peter Piscator who lives in the house that Jack built and with Joseph
the joiner patron of the happy demise of all unhappy marriagesPARCEQUE

M. LEO TAXIL NOUS A DIT QUE QUI L'AVAIT MISE DANS CETTE FICHUE POSITION
C'ETAIT LE SACRE PIGEONVENTRE DE DIEU! ENTWEDER transubstantiality ODER
consubstantiality but in no case subsubstantiality. And all cried out
upon it for a very scurvy word. A pregnancy without joyhe said
a birth without pangsa body without blemisha belly without bigness.
Let the lewd with faith and fervour worship. With will will we withstand
withsay.

Hereupon Punch Costello dinged with his fist upon the board and
would sing a bawdy catch STABOO STABELLA about a wench that was put in
pod of a jolly swashbuckler in Almany which he did straightways now
attack: THE FIRST THREE MONTHS SHE WAS NOT WELLSTABOOwhen
here nurse Quigley from the door angerly bid them hist ye should
shame you nor was it not meet as she remembered them being her mind was
to have all orderly against lord Andrew came for because she was jealous
that no gasteful turmoil might shorten the honour of her guard. It was an
ancient and a sad matron of a sedate look and christian walkingin habit
dun beseeming her megrims and wrinkled visagenor did her hortative want
of it effect for incontinently Punch Costello was of them all embraided
and they reclaimed the churl with civil rudeness some and shaked him with
menace of blandishments others whiles they all chode with hima murrain
seize the doltwhat a devil he would be atthou chuffthou punythou
got in peasestrawthou loselthou chitterlingthou spawn of a rebel
thou dykedroptthou abortion thouto shut up his drunken drool out
of that like a curse of God apethe good sir Leopold that had for his
cognisance the flower of quietmargerain gentleadvising also the
time's occasion as most sacred and most worthy to be most sacred.
In Horne's house rest should reign.

To be short this passage was scarce by when Master Dixon of Mary in
Ecclesgoodly grinningasked young Stephen what was the reason why he
had not cided to take friar's vows and he answered him obedience in the
wombchastity in the tomb but involuntary poverty all his days. Master
Lenehan at this made return that he had heard of those nefarious deeds and
howas he heard hereof countedhe had besmirched the lily virtue of a
confiding female which was corruption of minors and they all intershowed
it toowaxing merry and toasting to his fathership. But he said very
entirely it was clean contrary to their suppose for he was the eternal
son and ever virgin. Thereat mirth grew in them the more and they
rehearsed to him his curious rite of wedlock for the disrobing and
deflowering of spousesas the priests use in Madagascar islandshe
to be in guise of white and saffronher groom in white and grainwith
burning of nard and taperson a bridebed while clerks sung kyries
and the anthem UT NOVETUR SEXUS OMNIS CORPORIS MYSTERIUM till she was
there unmaided. He gave them then a much admirable hymen minim by those
delicate poets Master John Fletcher and Master Francis Beaumont that is
in their MAID'S TRAGEDY that was writ for a like twining of lovers: TO
BEDTO BED was the burden of it to be played with accompanable
concent upon the virginals. An exquisite dulcet epithalame of
most mollificative suadency for juveniles amatory whom the odoriferous
flambeaus of the paranymphs have escorted to the quadrupedal proscenium
of connubial communion. Well met they weresaid Master Dixonjoyed
butharkeeyoung sirbetter were they named Beau Mount and Lecher for
by my trothof such a mingling much might come. Young Stephen said
indeed to his best remembrance they had but the one doxy between them and
she of the stews to make shift with in delights amorous for life ran very
high in those days and the custom of the country approved with it. Greater
love than thishe saidno man hath that a man lay down his wife for his
friend. Go thou and do likewise. Thusor words to that effectsaith
Zarathustrasometime regius professor of French letters to the university
of Oxtail nor breathed there ever that man to whom mankind was more
beholden. Bring a stranger within thy tower it will go hard but thou wilt
have the secondbest bed. ORATEFRATRESPRO MEMETIPSO. And all the people
shall sayAmen. RememberErinthy generations and thy days of oldhow
thou settedst little by me and by my word and broughtedst in a stranger to
my gates to commit fornication in my sight and to wax fat and kick like
Jeshurum. Therefore hast thou sinned against my light and hast made me
thy lordto be the slave of servants. ReturnreturnClan Milly: forget
me notO Milesian. Why hast thou done this abomination before me that
thou didst spurn me for a merchant of jalaps and didst deny me to the
Roman and to the Indian of dark speech with whom thy daughters did lie
luxuriously? Look forth nowmy peopleupon the land of behesteven


from Horeb and from Nebo and from Pisgah and from the Horns of
Hatten unto a land flowing with milk and money. But thou hast suckled me
with a bitter milk: my moon and my sun thou hast quenched for ever. And
thou hast left me alone for ever in the dark ways of my bitterness: and
with a kiss of ashes hast thou kissed my mouth. This tenebrosity of
the interiorhe proceeded to sayhath not been illumined by the
wit of the septuagint nor so much as mentioned for the Orient from
on high Which brake hell's gates visited a darkness that was foraneous.
Assuefaction minorates atrocities (as Tully saith of his darling Stoics)
and Hamlet his father showeth the prince no blister of combustion.
The adiaphane in the noon of life is an Egypt's plague which in the
nights of prenativity and postmortemity is their most proper UBI and
QUOMODO. And as the ends and ultimates of all things accord in some
mean and measure with their inceptions and originalsthat same
multiplicit concordance which leads forth growth from birth accomplishing
by a retrogressive metamorphosis that minishing and ablation towards
the final which is agreeable unto nature so is it with our subsolar
being. The aged sisters draw us into life: we wailbattensportclip
claspsunderdwindledie: over us dead they bend. Firstsaved from
waters of old Nileamong bulrushesa bed of fasciated wattles: at last
the cavity of a mountainan occulted sepulchre amid the conclamation
of the hillcat and the ossifrage. And as no man knows the ubicity
of his tumulus nor to what processes we shall thereby be ushered nor
whether to Tophet or to Edenville in the like way is all hidden when we
would backward see from what region of remoteness the whatness of our
whoness hath fetched his whenceness.

Thereto Punch Costello roared out mainly ETIENNE CHANSON but he
loudly bid themlowisdom hath built herself a housethis vast majestic
longstablished vaultthe crystal palace of the Creatorall in applepie
ordera penny for him who finds the pea.

BEHOLD THE MANSION REARED BY DEDAL JACK
SEE THE MALT STORED IN MANY A REFLUENT SACK
IN THE PROUD CIRQUE OF JACKJOHN'S BIVOUAC.


A black crack of noise in the street herealackbawled back. Loud on
left Thor thundered: in anger awful the hammerhurler. Came now the
storm that hist his heart. And Master Lynch bade him have a care to flout
and witwanton as the god self was angered for his hellprate and paganry.
And he that had erst challenged to be so doughty waxed wan as they might
all mark and shrank together and his pitch that was before so haught
uplift was now of a sudden quite plucked down and his heart shook within
the cage of his breast as he tasted the rumour of that storm. Then did
some mock and some jeer and Punch Costello fell hard again to his yale
which Master Lenehan vowed he would do after and he was indeed but a word
and a blow on any the least colour. But the braggart boaster cried that an
old Nobodaddy was in his cups it was muchwhat indifferent and he would
not lag behind his lead. But this was only to dye his desperation as cowed
he crouched in Horne's hall. He drank indeed at one draught to pluck up a
heart of any grace for it thundered long rumblingly over all the heavens
so that Master Maddenbeing godly certain whilesknocked him on his ribs
upon that crack of doom and Master Bloomat the braggart's sidespoke to
him calming words to slumber his great fearadvertising how it was no
other thing but a hubbub noise that he heardthe discharge of fluid from
the thunderheadlook youhaving taken placeand all of the order of a
natural phenomenon.

But was young Boasthard's fear vanquished by Calmer's words? No
for he had in his bosom a spike named Bitterness which could not by words
be done away. And was he then neither calm like the one nor godly like the
other? He was neither as much as he would have liked to be either. But


could he not have endeavoured to have found again as in his youth the
bottle Holiness that then he lived withal? Indeed no for Grace was not
there to find that bottle. Heard he then in that clap the voice of the god
Bringforth orwhat Calmer saida hubbub of Phenomenon? Heard? Why
he could not but hear unless he had plugged him up the tube Understanding
(which he had not done). For through that tube he saw that he was in the
land of Phenomenon where he must for a certain one day die as he was like
the rest too a passing show. And would he not accept to die like the rest
and pass away? By no means would he though he must nor would he make
more shows according as men do with wives which Phenomenon has
commanded them to do by the book Law. Then wotted he nought of that other
land which is called Believe-on-Methat is the land of promise which
behoves to the king Delightful and shall be for ever where there is no
death and no birth neither wiving nor mothering at which all shall come as
many as believe on it? YesPious had told him of that land and Chaste had
pointed him to the way but the reason was that in the way he fell in with
a certain whore of an eyepleasing exterior whose nameshe saidis
Bird-in-the-Hand and she beguiled him wrongways from the true path by
her flatteries that she said to him asHoyou pretty manturn aside
hither and I will show you a brave placeand she lay at him so
flatteringly that she had him in her grot which is named Two-in-the-Bush
orby some learnedCarnal Concupiscence.

This was it what all that company that sat there at commons in Manse
of Mothers the most lusted after and if they met with this whore
Bird-in-the-Hand (which was within all foul plaguesmonsters and a
wicked devil) they would strain the last but they would make at her and
know her. For regarding Believe-on-Me they said it was nought else but
notion and they could conceive no thought of it forfirst
Two-in-the-Bush whither she ticed them was the very goodliest grot and
in it were four pillows on which were four tickets with these words
printed on themPickaback and Topsyturvy and Shameface and Cheek
by Jowl andsecondfor that foul plague Allpox and the monsters
they cared not for them for Preservative had given them a stout
shield of oxengut andthirdthat they might take no hurt neither
from Offspring that was that wicked devil by virtue of this same
shield which was named Killchild. So were they all in their blind
fancyMr Cavil and Mr Sometimes GodlyMr Ape SwillaleMr False
FranklinMr Dainty DixonYoung Boasthard and Mr Cautious Calmer.
WhereinO wretched companywere ye all deceived for that was the voice
of the god that was in a very grievous rage that he would presently lift
his arm up and spill their souls for their abuses and their spillings done
by them contrariwise to his word which forth to bring brenningly biddeth.

So Thursday sixteenth June Patk. Dignam laid in clay of an apoplexy
and after hard droughtplease Godraineda bargeman coming in by water
a fifty mile or thereabout with turf saying the seed won't sproutfields
athirstvery sadcoloured and stunk mightilythe quags and tofts too.
Hard to breathe and all the young quicks clean consumed without sprinkle
this long while back as no man remembered to be without. The rosy buds all
gone brown and spread out blobs and on the hills nought but dry flag and
faggots that would catch at first fire. All the world sayingfor aught
they knewthe big wind of last February a year that did havoc the land so
pitifully a small thing beside this barrenness. But by and byas said
this evening after sundownthe wind sitting in the westbiggish swollen
clouds to be seen as the night increased and the weatherwise poring
up at them and some sheet lightnings at first and afterpast ten of
the clockone great stroke with a long thunder and in a brace of shakes
all scamper pellmell within door for the smoking showerthe men making
shelter for their straws with a clout or kerchiefwomenfolk
skipping off with kirtles catched up soon as the pour came. In Ely place
Baggot streetDuke's lawnthence through Merrion green up to Holles
street a swash of water flowing that was before bonedry and not one
chair or coach or fiacre seen about but no more crack after that first.


Over against the Rt. Hon. Mr Justice Fitzgibbon's door (that is
to sit with Mr Healy the lawyer upon the college lands) Mal. Mulligan
a gentleman's gentleman that had but come from Mr Moore's the
writer's (that was a papish but is nowfolk saya good Williamite)
chanced against Alec. Bannon in a cut bob (which are now in with dance
cloaks of Kendal green) that was new got to town from Mullingar with
the stage where his coz and Mal M's brother will stay a month yet till
Saint Swithin and asks what in the earth he does therehe bound home and
he to Andrew Horne's being stayed for to crush a cup of wineso he said
but would tell him of a skittish heiferbig of her age and beef to the
heeland all this while poured with rain and so both together on to
Horne's. There Leop. Bloom of Crawford's journal sitting snug with a covey
of wagslikely brangling fellowsDixon jun.scholar of my lady of
Mercy'sVin. Lyncha Scots fellowWill. MaddenT. Lenehanvery sad
about a racer he fancied and Stephen D. Leop. Bloom there for a languor he
had but was now betterbe having dreamed tonight a strange fancy of his
dame Mrs Moll with red slippers on in a pair of Turkey trunks which is
thought by those in ken to be for a change and Mistress Purefoy there
that got in through pleading her bellyand now on the stoolspoor body
two days past her termthe midwives sore put to it and can't deliver
she queasy for a bowl of riceslop that is a shrewd drier up of the
insides and her breath very heavy more than good and should be a
bullyboy from the knocksthey saybut God give her soon issue.
'Tis her ninth chick to liveI hearand Lady day bit off her last
chick's nails that was then a twelvemonth and with other three
all breastfed that died written out in a fair hand in the king's
bible. Her hub fifty odd and a methodist but takes the sacrament and is to
be seen any fair sabbath with a pair of his boys off Bullock harbour
dapping on the sound with a heavybraked reel or in a punt he has trailing
for flounder and pollock and catches a fine bagI hear. In sum an
infinite great fall of rain and all refreshed and will much increase the
harvest yet those in ken say after wind and water fire shall come for a
prognostication of Malachi's almanac (and I hear that Mr Russell has done
a prophetical charm of the same gist out of the Hindustanish for his
farmer's gazette) to have three things in all but this a mere fetch
without bottom of reason for old crones and bairns yet sometimes they are
found in the right guess with their queerities no telling how.

With this came up Lenehan to the feet of the table to say how the
letter was in that night's gazette and he made a show to find it about him
(for he swore with an oath that he had been at pains about it) but on
Stephen's persuasion he gave over the search and was bidden to sit near by
which he did mighty brisk. He was a kind of sport gentleman that went for
a merryandrew or honest pickle and what belonged of womenhorseflesh or
hot scandal he had it pat. To tell the truth he was mean in fortunes and
for the most part hankered about the coffeehouses and low taverns with
crimpsostlersbookiesPaul's menrunnersflatcapswaistcoateers
ladies of the bagnio and other rogues of the game or with a chanceable
catchpole or a tipstaff often at nights till broad day of whom he picked
up between his sackpossets much loose gossip. He took his ordinary at a
boilingcook's and if he had but gotten into him a mess of broken victuals
or a platter of tripes with a bare tester in his purse he could always
bring himself off with his tonguesome randy quip he had from a punk or
whatnot that every mother's son of them would burst their sides.
The otherCostello that ishearing this talk asked was it poetry
or a tale. Faithnohe saysFrank (that was his name)'tis all
about Kerry cows that are to be butchered along of the plague.
But they can go hangsays he with a winkfor me with their bully beef
a pox on it. There's as good fish in this tin as ever came out of it and
very friendly he offered to take of some salty sprats that stood by which
he had eyed wishly in the meantime and found the place which was indeed
the chief design of his embassy as he was sharpset. MORT AUX VACHESsays
Frank then in the French language that had been indentured to a
brandyshipper that has a winelodge in Bordeaux and he spoke French like a


gentleman too. From a child this Frank had been a donought that his
fathera headboroughwho could ill keep him to school to learn his
letters and the use of the globesmatriculated at the university to study
the mechanics but he took the bit between his teeth like a raw colt and
was more familiar with the justiciary and the parish beadle than with his
volumes. One time he would be a playactorthen a sutler or a welsher
then nought would keep him from the bearpit and the cocking mainthen he
was for the ocean sea or to hoof it on the roads with the romany folk
kidnapping a squire's heir by favour of moonlight or fecking maids' linen
or choking chicken behind a hedge. He had been off as many times as a cat
has lives and back again with naked pockets as many more to his father the
headborough who shed a pint of tears as often as he saw him. Whatsays
Mr Leopold with his hands acrossthat was earnest to know the drift of
itwill they slaughter all? I protest I saw them but this day morning
going to the Liverpool boatssays he. I can scarce believe 'tis so bad
says he. And he had experience of the like brood beasts and of springers
greasy hoggets and wether woolhaving been some years before actuary for
Mr Joseph Cuffea worthy salesmaster that drove his trade for live stock
and meadow auctions hard by Mr Gavin Low's yard in Prussia street.
I question with you theresays he. More like 'tis the hoose or
the timber tongue. Mr Stephena little moved but very handsomely
told him no such matter and that he had dispatches from the emperor's
chief tailtickler thanking him for the hospitalitythat was
sending over Doctor Rinderpestthe bestquoted cowcatcher in all
Muscovywith a bolus or two of physic to take the bull by
the horns. Comecomesays Mr Vincentplain dealing. He'll find himself
on the horns of a dilemma if he meddles with a bull that's Irishsays he.
Irish by name and irish by naturesays Mr Stephenand he sent the ale
purling aboutan Irish bull in an English chinashop. I conceive yousays
Mr Dixon. It is that same bull that was sent to our island by farmer
Nicholasthe bravest cattlebreeder of them allwith an emerald
ring in his nose. True for yousays Mr Vincent cross the table
and a bullseye into the bargainsays heand a plumper and a portlier
bullsays henever shit on shamrock. He had horns galorea coat of
cloth of gold and a sweet smoky breath coming out of his nostrils so
that the women of our islandleaving doughballs and rollingpins
followed after him hanging his bulliness in daisychains.
What for thatsays Mr Dixonbut before he came over farmer
Nicholas that was a eunuch had him properly gelded by a college of doctors
who were no better off than himself. So be off nowsays heand do all my
cousin german the lord Harry tells you and take a farmer's blessingand
with that he slapped his posteriors very soundly. But the slap and the
blessing stood him friendsays Mr Vincentfor to make up he taught him a
trick worth two of the other so that maidwifeabbess and widow to this
day affirm that they would rather any time of the month whisper in his ear
in the dark of a cowhouse or get a lick on the nape from his long holy
tongue than lie with the finest strapping young ravisher in the four
fields of all Ireland. Another then put in his word: And they dressed him
says hein a point shift and petticoat with a tippet and girdle and
ruffles on his wrists and clipped his forelock and rubbed him all over
with spermacetic oil and built stables for him at every turn of the
road with a gold manger in each full of the best hay in the market
so that he could doss and dung to his heart's content. By this time
the father of the faithful (for so they called him) was grown so
heavy that he could scarce walk to pasture. To remedy which our
cozening dames and damsels brought him his fodder in their apronlaps
and as soon as his belly was full he would rear up on his hind uarters
to show their ladyships a mystery and roar and bellow out of him in bulls'
language and they all after him. Aysays anotherand so pampered was he
that he would suffer nought to grow in all the land but green grass for
himself (for that was the only colour to his mind) and there was a board
put up on a hillock in the middle of the island with a printed notice
saying: By the Lord HarryGreen is the grass that grows on the ground.
Andsays Mr Dixonif ever he got scent of a cattleraider in Roscommon


or the wilds of Connemara or a husbandman in Sligo that was sowing
as much as a handful of mustard or a bag of rapeseed out he'd run
amok over half the countryside rooting up with his horns whatever
was planted and all by lord Harry's orders. There was bad blood between
them at firstsays Mr Vincentand the lord Harry called farmer
Nicholas all the old Nicks in the world and an old whoremaster that
kept seven trulls in his house and I'll meddle in his matters
says he. I'll make that animal smell hellsays hewith the help
of that good pizzle my father left me. But one eveningsays Mr
Dixonwhen the lord Harry was cleaning his royal pelt to go to dinner
after winning a boatrace (he had spade oars for himself but the first rule
of the course was that the others were to row with pitchforks)
he discovered in himself a wonderful likeness to a bull and on picking
up a blackthumbed chapbook that he kept in the pantry he found sure
enough that he was a lefthanded descendant of the famous champion bull
of the RomansBOS BOVUMwhich is good bog Latin for boss of the
show. After thatsays Mr Vincentthe lord Harry put his head into
a cow's drinkingtrough in the presence of all his courtiers and
pulling it out again told them all his new name. Thenwith the water
running off himhe got into an old smock and skirt that had
belonged to his grandmother and bought a grammar of the bulls'
language to study but he could never learn a word of it except the first
personal pronoun which he copied out big and got off by heart and if ever
he went out for a walk he filled his pockets with chalk to write it upon
what took his fancythe side of a rock or a teahouse table or a bale of
cotton or a corkfloat. In shorthe and the bull of Ireland were soon as
fast friends as an arse and a shirt. They weresays Mr Stephenand the
end was that the men of the island seeing no help was towardas the
ungrate women were all of one mindmade a wherry raftloaded themselves
and their bundles of chattels on shipboardset all masts erectmanned
the yardssprang their luffheaved tospread three sheets in the wind
put her head between wind and waterweighed anchorported her helmran
up the jolly Rogergave three times threelet the bullgine runpushed
off in their bumboat and put to sea to recover the main of America.
Which was the occasionsays Mr Vincentof the composing by a boatswain
of that rollicking chanty:

--POPE PETER'S BUT A PISSABED.
A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT.


Our worthy acquaintance Mr Malachi Mulligan now appeared in the doorway
as the students were finishing their apologue accompanied with a friend
whom he had just rencountereda young gentlemanhis name Alec Bannon
who had late come to townit being his intention to buy a colour or a
cornetcy in the fencibles and list for the wars. Mr Mulligan was civil
enough to express some relish of it all the more as it jumped with a
project of his own for the cure of the very evil that had been touched on.
Whereat he handed round to the company a set of pasteboard cards which he
had had printed that day at Mr Quinnell's bearing a legend printed in fair
italics: MR MALACHI MULLIGAN. FERTILISER AND INCUBATOR. LAMBAY ISLAND. His
projectas he went on to expoundwas to withdraw from the round of idle
pleasures such as form the chief business of sir Fopling Popinjay and sir
Milksop Quidnunc in town and to devote himself to the noblest task for
which our bodily organism has been framed. Welllet us hear of itgood
my friendsaid Mr Dixon. I make no doubt it smacks of wenching. Comebe
seatedboth. 'Tis as cheap sitting as standing. Mr Mulligan accepted of
the invitation andexpatiating upon his designtold his hearers that he
had been led into this thought by a consideration of the causes of
sterilityboth the inhibitory and the prohibitorywhether the inhibition
in its turn were due to conjugal vexations or to a parsimony of the
balance as well as whether the prohibition proceeded from defects
congenital or from proclivities acquired. It grieved him plaguilyhe


saidto see the nuptial couch defrauded of its dearest pledges: and to
reflect upon so many agreeable females with rich jointuresa prey to the
vilest bonzeswho hide their flambeau under a bushel in an uncongenial
cloister or lose their womanly bloom in the embraces of some unaccountable
muskin when they might multiply the inlets of happinesssacrificing the
inestimable jewel of their sex when a hundred pretty fellows were
at hand to caressthishe assured themmade his heart weep.
To curb this inconvenient (which he concluded due to a suppression
of latent heat)having advised with certain counsellors of worth
and inspected into this matterhe had resolved to purchase in fee
simple for ever the freehold of Lambay island from its holder
lord Talbot de Malahidea Tory gentleman of note much in favour with our
ascendancy party. He proposed to set up there a national fertilising farm
to be named OMPHALOS with an obelisk hewn and erected after the fashion of
Egypt and to offer his dutiful yeoman services for the fecundation of any
female of what grade of life soever who should there direct to him with
the desire of fulfilling the functions of her natural. Money was no
objecthe saidnor would he take a penny for his pains. The poorest
kitchenwench no less than the opulent lady of fashionif so be their
constructions and their tempers were warm persuaders for their petitions
would find in him their man. For his nutriment he shewed how he would
feed himself exclusively upon a diet of savoury tubercles and fish and
coneys therethe flesh of these latter prolific rodents being highly
recommended for his purposeboth broiled and stewed with a blade of
mace and a pod or two of capsicum chillies. After this homily which he
delivered with much warmth of asseveration Mr Mulligan in a trice put off
from his hat a kerchief with which he had shielded it. They bothit
seemshad been overtaken by the rain and for all their mending their pace
had taken wateras might be observed by Mr Mulligan's smallclothes of a
hodden grey which was now somewhat piebald. His project meanwhile was
very favourably entertained by his auditors and won hearty eulogies from
all though Mr Dixon of Mary's excepted to itasking with a finicking air
did he purpose also to carry coals to Newcastle. Mr Mulligan however made
court to the scholarly by an apt quotation from the classics whichas
it dwelt upon his memoryseemed to him a sound and tasteful support of
his contention: TALIS AC TANTA DEPRAVATIO HUJUS SECULIO QUIRITESUT
MATRESFAMILIARUM NOSTRAE LASCIVAS CUJUSLIBET SEMIVIRI LIBICI TITILLATIONES
TESTIBUS PONDEROSIS ATQUE EXCELSIS ERECTIONIBUS CENTURIONUM ROMANORUM
MAGNOPERE ANTEPONUNTwhile for those of ruder wit he drove home his
point by analogies of the animal kingdom more suitable to their stomach
the buck and doe of the forest gladethe farmyard drake and duck.

Valuing himself not a little upon his elegancebeing indeed a proper
man of personthis talkative now applied himself to his dress with
animadversions of some heat upon the sudden whimsy of the atmospherics
while the company lavished their encomiums upon the project he had
advanced. The young gentlemanhis friendoverjoyed as he was at a
passage that had late befallen himcould not forbear to tell it
his nearest neighbour. Mr Mulligannow perceiving the tableasked for
whom were those loaves and fishes andseeing the strangerhe made him
a civil bow and saidPraysirwas you in need of any professional
assistance we could give? Whoupon his offerthanked him very heartily
though preserving his proper distanceand replied that he was come
there about a ladynow an inmate of Horne's housethat was in an
interesting conditionpoor bodyfrom woman's woe (and here he fetched
a deep sigh) to know if her happiness had yet taken place. Mr Dixon
to turn the tabletook on to ask of Mr Mulligan himself whether his
incipient ventripotenceupon which he rallied himbetokened an
ovoblastic gestation in the prostatic utricle or male womb or was due
as with the noted physicianMr Austin Meldonto a wolf in the stomach.
For answer Mr Mulliganin a gale of laughter at his smalls
smote himself bravely below the diaphragmexclaiming with an
admirable droll mimic of Mother Grogan (the most excellent creature of her
sex though 'tis pity she's a trollop): There's a belly that never bore a


bastard. This was so happy a conceit that it renewed the storm of mirth
and threw the whole room into the most violent agitations of delight. The
spry rattle had run on in the same vein of mimicry but for some larum
in the antechamber.

Here the listener who was none other than the Scotch studenta little
fume of a fellowblond as towcongratulated in the liveliest fashion with
the young gentleman andinterrupting the narrative at a salient point
having desired his visavis with a polite beck to have the obligingness to pass
him a flagon of cordial waters at the same time by a questioning poise of the
head (a whole century of polite breeding had not achieved so nice a gesture)
to which was united an equivalent but contrary balance of the bottle asked
the narrator as plainly as was ever done in words if he might treat him with
a cup of it. MAIS BIEN SURnoble strangersaid he cheerilyET MILLE
COMPLIMENTS. That you may and very opportunely. There wanted nothing
but this cup to crown my felicity. Butgracious heavenwas I left with but a
crust in my wallet and a cupful of water from the wellmy GodI would
accept of them and find it in my heart to kneel down upon the ground and
give thanks to the powers above for the happiness vouchsafed me by the
Giver of good things. With these words he approached the goblet to his lips
took a complacent draught of the cordialslicked his hair andopening his
bosomout popped a locket that hung from a silk ribandthat very picture
which he had cherished ever since her hand had wrote therein. Gazing
upon those features with a world of tendernessAhMonsieurhe saidhad
you but beheld her as I did with these eyes at that affecting instant with her
dainty tucker and her new coquette cap (a gift for her feastday as she told
me prettily) in such an artless disorderof so melting a tenderness'pon my
conscienceeven youMonsieurhad been impelled by generous nature to
deliver yourself wholly into the hands of such an enemy or to quit the field
for ever. I declareI was never so touched in all my life. GodI thank thee
as the Author of my days! Thrice happy will he be whom so amiable a
creature will bless with her favours. A sigh of affection gave eloquence to
these words andhaving replaced the locket in his bosomhe wiped his eye
and sighed again. Beneficent Disseminator of blessings to all Thy creatures
how great and universal must be that sweetest of Thy tyrannies which can
hold in thrall the free and the bondthe simple swain and the polished
coxcombthe lover in the heyday of reckless passion and the husband of
maturer years. But indeedsirI wander from the point. How mingled and
imperfect are all our sublunary joys. Maledicity! he exclaimed in anguish.
Would to God that foresight had but remembered me to take my cloak
along! I could weep to think of it. Thenthough it had poured seven
showerswe were neither of us a penny the worse. But beshrew mehe
criedclapping hand to his foreheadtomorrow will be a new day and
thousand thundersI know of a MARCHAND DE CAPOTESMonsieur Poyntz
from whom I can have for a livre as snug a cloak of the French fashion as
ever kept a lady from wetting. Tuttut! cries Le Fecondateurtripping in
my friend Monsieur Moorethat most accomplished traveller (I have just
cracked a half bottle AVEC LUI in a circle of the best wits of the town)
is my authority that in Cape HornVENTRE BICHEthey have a rain that will
wet through anyeven the stoutest cloak. A drenching of that violencehe
tells meSANS BLAGUEhas sent more than one luckless fellow in good earnest
posthaste to another world. Pooh! A LIVRE! cries Monsieur Lynch. The
clumsy things are dear at a sou. One umbrellawere it no bigger than a
fairy mushroomis worth ten such stopgaps. No woman of any wit would
wear one. My dear Kitty told me today that she would dance in a deluge
before ever she would starve in such an ark of salvation foras she
reminded me (blushing piquantly and whispering in my ear though there
was none to snap her words but giddy butterflies)dame Natureby the
divine blessinghas implanted it in our hearts and it has become a
household word that IL Y A DEUX CHOSES for which the innocence of our
original garbin other circumstances a breach of the proprietiesis the
fittestnaythe only garment. The firstsaid she (and here my pretty
philosopheras I handed her to her tilburyto fix my attentiongently
tipped with her tongue the outer chamber of my ear)the first is a


bath ... But at this point a bell tinkling in the hall cut short a
discourse which promised so bravely for the enrichment of our store of
knowledge.

Amid the general vacant hilarity of the assembly a bell rang and
while all were conjecturing what might be the causeMiss Callan entered
andhaving spoken a few words in a low tone to young Mr Dixonretired
with a profound bow to the company. The presence even for a moment
among a party of debauchees of a woman endued with every quality of
modesty and not less severe than beautiful refrained the humourous sallies
even of the most licentious but her departure was the signal for an outbreak
of ribaldry. Strike me sillysaid Costelloa low fellow who was fuddled. A
monstrous fine bit of cowflesh! I'll be sworn she has rendezvoused you.
Whatyou dog? Have you a way with them? Gad's budimmensely sosaid
Mr Lynch. The bedside manner it is that they use in the Mater hospice.
Demmedoes not Doctor O'Gargle chuck the nuns there under the chin. As
I look to be saved I had it from my Kitty who has been wardmaid there any
time these seven months. Lawksamercydoctorcried the young blood in
the primrose vestfeigning a womanish simper and with immodest
squirmings of his bodyhow you do tease a body! Drat the man! Bless me
I'm all of a wibbly wobbly. Whyyou're as bad as dear little Father
Cantekissemthat you are! May this pot of four half choke mecried
Costelloif she aint in the family way. I knows a lady what's got a white
swelling quick as I claps eyes on her. The young surgeonhoweverrose
and begged the company to excuse his retreat as the nurse had just then
informed him that he was needed in the ward. Merciful providence had
been pleased to put a period to the sufferings of the lady who was ENCEINTE
which she had borne with a laudable fortitude and she had given birth to a
bouncing boy. I want patiencesaid hewith those whowithout wit to
enliven or learning to instructrevile an ennobling profession whichsaving
the reverence due to the Deityis the greatest power for happiness upon the
earth. I am positive when I say that if need were I could produce a cloud of
witnesses to the excellence of her noble exercitations whichso far from
being a bywordshould be a glorious incentive in the human breast. I
cannot away with them. What? Malign such an onethe amiable Miss
Callanwho is the lustre of her own sex and the astonishment of ours? And
at an instant the most momentous that can befall a puny child of clay?
Perish the thought! I shudder to think of the future of a race where the
seeds of such malice have been sown and where no right reverence is
rendered to mother and maid in house of Horne. Having delivered himself
of this rebuke he saluted those present on the by and repaired to the door.
A murmur of approval arose from all and some were for ejecting the low
soaker without more adoa design which would have been effected nor
would he have received more than his bare deserts had he not abridged his
transgression by affirming with a horrid imprecation (for he swore a round
hand) that he was as good a son of the true fold as ever drew breath. Stap
my vitalssaid hethem was always the sentiments of honest Frank Costello
which I was bred up most particular to honour thy father and thy mother
that had the best hand to a rolypoly or a hasty pudding as you ever see what
I always looks back on with a loving heart.

To revert to Mr Bloom whoafter his first entryhad been conscious
of some impudent mocks which he however had borne with as being the
fruits of that age upon which it is commonly charged that it knows not pity.
The young sparksit is truewere as full of extravagancies as overgrown
children: the words of their tumultuary discussions were difficultly
understood and not often nice: their testiness and outrageous MOTS were
such that his intellects resiled from: nor were they scrupulously sensible of
the proprieties though their fund of strong animal spirits spoke in their
behalf. But the word of Mr Costello was an unwelcome language for him
for he nauseated the wretch that seemed to him a cropeared creature of a
misshapen gibbosityborn out of wedlock and thrust like a crookback
toothed and feet first into the worldwhich the dint of the surgeon's pliers
in his skull lent indeed a colour toso as to put him in thought of that


missing link of creation's chain desiderated by the late ingenious Mr
Darwin. It was now for more than the middle span of our allotted years
that he had passed through the thousand vicissitudes of existence andbeing
of a wary ascendancy and self a man of rare forecasthe had enjoined his
heart to repress all motions of a rising choler andby intercepting them with
the readiest precautionfoster within his breast that plenitude of sufferance
which base minds jeer atrash judgers scorn and all find tolerable and but
tolerable. To those who create themselves wits at the cost of feminine
delicacy (a habit of mind which he never did hold with) to them he would
concede neither to bear the name nor to herit the tradition of a proper
breeding: while for such thathaving lost all forbearancecan lose no more
there remained the sharp antidote of experience to cause their insolency to
beat a precipitate and inglorious retreat. Not but what he could feel with
mettlesome youth whichcaring nought for the mows of dotards or the
gruntlings of the severeis ever (as the chaste fancy of the Holy Writer
expresses it) for eating of the tree forbid it yet not so far forth as to
pretermit humanity upon any condition soever towards a gentlewoman
when she was about her lawful occasions. To concludewhile from the
sister's words he had reckoned upon a speedy delivery he washoweverit
must be ownednot a little alleviated by the intelligence that the issue so
auspicated after an ordeal of such duress now testified once more to the
mercy as well as to the bounty of the Supreme Being.

Accordingly he broke his mind to his neighboursaying thatto
express his notion of the thinghis opinion (who ought not perchance to
express one) was that one must have a cold constitution and a frigid genius
not to be rejoiced by this freshest news of the fruition of her confinement
since she had been in such pain through no fault of hers. The dressy young
blade said it was her husband's that put her in that expectation or at least
it ought to be unless she were another Ephesian matron. I must acquaint you
said Mr Crotthersclapping on the table so as to evoke a resonant comment
of emphasisold Glory Allelujurum was round again todayan elderly man
with dundreariespreferring through his nose a request to have word of
Wilhelminamy lifeas he calls her. I bade him hold himself in readiness for
that the event would burst anon. 'SlifeI'll be round with you. I cannot but
extol the virile potency of the old bucko that could still knock another child
out of her. All fell to praising of iteach after his own fashionthough the
same young blade held with his former view that another than her conjugial
had been the man in the gapa clerk in ordersa linkboy (virtuous) or an
itinerant vendor of articles needed in every household. Singularcommuned
the guest with himselfthe wonderfully unequal faculty of metempsychosis
possessed by themthat the puerperal dormitory and the dissecting theatre
should be the seminaries of such frivolitythat the mere acquisition of
academic titles should suffice to transform in a pinch of time these votaries
of levity into exemplary practitioners of an art which most men anywise
eminent have esteemed the noblest. Buthe further addedit is mayhap to
relieve the pentup feelings that in common oppress them for I have more
than once observed that birds of a feather laugh together.

But with what fitnesslet it be asked of the noble lordhis patronhas
this alienwhom the concession of a gracious prince has admitted to civic
rightsconstituted himself the lord paramount of our internal polity? Where
is now that gratitude which loyalty should have counselled? During the
recent war whenever the enemy had a temporary advantage with his
granados did this traitor to his kind not seize that moment to discharge his
piece against the empire of which he is a tenant at will while he trembled for
the security of his four per cents? Has he forgotten this as he forgets all
benefits received? Or is it that from being a deluder of others he has become
at last his own dupe as he isif report belie him nothis own and his only
enjoyer? Far be it from candour to violate the bedchamber of a respectable
ladythe daughter of a gallant majoror to cast the most distant reflections
upon her virtue but if he challenges attention there (as it was indeed highly
his interest not to have done) then be it so. Unhappy womanshe has been
too long and too persistently denied her legitimate prerogative to listen to


his objurgations with any other feeling than the derision of the desperate.
He says thisa censor of moralsa very pelican in his pietywho did not
scrupleoblivious of the ties of natureto attempt illicit intercourse with
a female domestic drawn from the lowest strata of society! Nayhad the
hussy's scouringbrush not been her tutelary angelit had gone with her as
hard as with Hagarthe Egyptian! In the question of the grazing lands his
peevish asperity is notorious and in Mr Cuffe's hearing brought upon him
from an indignant rancher a scathing retort couched in terms as
straightforward as they were bucolic. It ill becomes him to preach that
gospel. Has he not nearer home a seedfield that lies fallow for the want of
the ploughshare? A habit reprehensible at puberty is second nature and an
opprobrium in middle life. If he must dispense his balm of Gilead in
nostrums and apothegms of dubious taste to restore to health a generation
of unfledged profligates let his practice consist better with the doctrines
that now engross him. His marital breast is the repository of secrets which
decorum is reluctant to adduce. The lewd suggestions of some faded beauty
may console him for a consort neglected and debauched but this new
exponent of morals and healer of ills is at his best an exotic tree which
when rooted in its native orientthrove and flourished and was abundant in
balm buttransplanted to a clime more temperateits roots have lost their
quondam vigour while the stuff that comes away from it is stagnantacid
and inoperative.

The news was imparted with a circumspection recalling the
ceremonial usage of the Sublime Porte by the second female infirmarian to
the junior medical officer in residencewho in his turn announced to the
delegation that an heir had been bornWhen he had betaken himself to the
women's apartment to assist at the prescribed ceremony of the afterbirth in
the presence of the secretary of state for domestic affairs and the members
of the privy councilsilent in unanimous exhaustion and approbation the
delegateschafing under the length and solemnity of their vigil and hoping
that the joyful occurrence would palliate a licence which the simultaneous
absence of abigail and obstetrician rendered the easierbroke out at once
into a strife of tongues. In vain the voice of Mr Canvasser Bloom was heard
endeavouring to urgeto mollifyto refrain. The moment was too propitious
for the display of that discursiveness which seemed the only bond of union
among tempers so divergent. Every phase of the situation was successively
eviscerated: the prenatal repugnance of uterine brothersthe Caesarean
sectionposthumity with respect to the father andthat rarer formwith
respect to the motherthe fratricidal case known as the Childs Murder and
rendered memorable by the impassioned plea of Mr Advocate Bushe which
secured the acquittal of the wrongfully accusedthe rights of primogeniture
and king's bounty touching twins and tripletsmiscarriages and
infanticidessimulated or dissimulatedthe acardiac FOETUS IN FOETU and
aprosopia due to a congestionthe agnathia of certain chinless Chinamen
(cited by Mr Candidate Mulligan) in consequence of defective reunion of
the maxillary knobs along the medial line so that (as he said) one ear could
hear what the other spokethe benefits of anesthesia or twilight sleepthe
prolongation of labour pains in advanced gravidancy by reason of pressure
on the veinthe premature relentment of the amniotic fluid (as exemplified
in the actual case) with consequent peril of sepsis to the matrixartificial
insemination by means of syringesinvolution of the womb consequent
upon the menopausethe problem of the perpetration of the species in the
case of females impregnated by delinquent rapethat distressing manner of
delivery called by the Brandenburghers STURZGEBURTthe recorded instances
of multiseminaltwikindled and monstrous births conceived during the
catamenic period or of consanguineous parents--in a word all the cases of
human nativity which Aristotle has classified in his masterpiece with
chromolithographic illustrations. The gravest problems of obstetrics and
forensic medicine were examined with as much animation as the most
popular beliefs on the state of pregnancy such as the forbidding to a gravid
woman to step over a countrystile lestby her movementthe navelcord
should strangle her creature and the injunction upon her in the event of a
yearningardently and ineffectually entertainedto place her hand against


that part of her person which long usage has consecrated as the seat of
castigation. The abnormalities of harelipbreastmolesupernumerary digits
negro's inklestrawberry mark and portwine stain were alleged by one as a
PRIMA FACIE and natural hypothetical explanation of those swineheaded (the
case of Madame Grissel Steevens was not forgotten) or doghaired infants
occasionally born. The hypothesis of a plasmic memoryadvanced by the
Caledonian envoy and worthy of the metaphysical traditions of the land he
stood forenvisaged in such cases an arrest of embryonic development at
some stage antecedent to the human. An outlandish delegate sustained
against both these viewswith such heat as almost carried convictionthe
theory of copulation between women and the males of bruteshis authority
being his own avouchment in support of fables such as that of the Minotaur
which the genius of the elegant Latin poet has handed down to us in the
pages of his Metamorphoses. The impression made by his words was
immediate but shortlived. It was effaced as easily as it had been evoked by
an allocution from Mr Candidate Mulligan in that vein of pleasantry which
none better than he knew how to affectpostulating as the supremest object
of desire a nice clean old man. Contemporaneouslya heated argument
having arisen between Mr Delegate Madden and Mr Candidate Lynch
regarding the juridical and theological dilemma created in the event of one
Siamese twin predeceasing the otherthe difficulty by mutual consent was
referred to Mr Canvasser Bloom for instant submittal to Mr Coadjutor
Deacon Dedalus. Hitherto silentwhether the better to show by
preternatural gravity that curious dignity of the garb with which he was
invested or in obedience to an inward voicehe delivered briefly andas
some thoughtperfunctorily the ecclesiastical ordinance forbidding man to
put asunder what God has joined.

But Malachias' tale began to freeze them with horror. He conjured up the
scene before them. The secret panel beside the chimney slid back and in
the recess appeared ... Haines! Which of us did not feel his flesh creep!
He had a portfolio full of Celtic literature in one handin the other a
phial marked POISON. Surprisehorrorloathing were depicted on
all faces while he eyed them with a ghostly grin. I anticipated
some such receptionhe began with an eldritch laughfor which
it seemshistory is to blame. Yesit is true. I am the murderer of
Samuel Childs. And how I am punished! The inferno has no terrors
for me. This is the appearance is on me. Tare and ageswhat way would
I be resting at allhe muttered thicklyand I tramping Dublin this
while back with my share of songs and himself after me the like of
a soulth or a bullawurrus? My helland Ireland'sis in this life.
It is what I tried to obliterate my crime. Distractionsrookshooting
the Erse language (he recited some)laudanum (he raised the phial to his
lips)camping out. In vain! His spectre stalks me. Dope is my only
hope ... Ah! Destruction! The black panther! With a cry he suddenly
vanished and the panel slid back. An instant later his head appeared
in the door opposite and said: Meet me at Westland Row station at
ten past eleven. He was gone. Tears gushed from the eyes of the
dissipated host. The seer raised his hand to heavenmurmuring:
The vendetta of Mananaun! The sage repeated: LEX TALIONIS. The
sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense
debtorship for a thing done. Malachiasovercome by emotionceased.
The mystery was unveiled. Haines was the third brother. His real
name was Childs. The black panther was himself the ghost of his own
father. He drank drugs to obliterate. For this relief much thanks. The
lonely house by the graveyard is uninhabited. No soul will live there. The
spider pitches her web in the solitude. The nocturnal rat peers from his
hole. A curse is on it. It is haunted. Murderer's ground.

What is the age of the soul of man? As she hath the virtue of the
chameleon to change her hue at every new approachto be gay with the
merry and mournful with the downcastso too is her age changeable as her
mood. No longer is Leopoldas he sits thereruminatingchewing the cud
of reminiscencethat staid agent of publicity and holder of a modest


substance in the funds. A score of years are blown away. He is young
Leopold. Thereas in a retrospective arrangementa mirror within a mirror
(heypresto!)he beholdeth himself. That young figure of then is seen
precociously manlywalking on a nipping morning from the old house in
Clanbrassil street to the high schoolhis booksatchel on him bandolierwise
and in it a goodly hunk of wheaten loafa mother's thought. Or it is the
same figurea year or so gone overin his first hard hat (ahthat was a
day!)already on the roada fullfledged traveller for the family firm
equipped with an orderbooka scented handkerchief (not for show only)
his case of bright trinketware (alas! a thing now of the past!) and a
quiverful of compliant smiles for this or that halfwon housewife reckoning
it out upon her fingertips or for a budding virginshyly acknowledging (but
the heart? tell me!) his studied baisemoins. The scentthe smilebutmore
than thesethe dark eyes and oleaginous addressbrought home at duskfall
many a commission to the head of the firmseated with Jacob's pipe after
like labours in the paternal ingle (a meal of noodlesyou may be sureis
aheating)reading through round horned spectacles some paper from the
Europe of a month before. But heyprestothe mirror is breathed on and
the young knighterrant recedesshrivelsdwindles to a tiny speck within the
mist. Now he is himself paternal and these about him might be his sons.
Who can say? The wise father knows his own child. He thinks of a
drizzling night in Hatch streethard by the bonded stores therethe first.
Together (she is a poor waifa child of shameyours and mine and of all for
a bare shilling and her luckpenny)together they hear the heavy tread of the
watch as two raincaped shadows pass the new royal university. Bridie!
Bridie Kelly! He will never forget the nameever remember the night: first
nightthe bridenight. They are entwined in nethermost darknessthe willer
with the willedand in an instant (FIAT!) light shall flood the world. Did
heart leap to heart? Nayfair reader. In a breath 'twas done but--hold!
Back! It must not be! In terror the poor girl flees away through the murk.
She is the bride of darknessa daughter of night. She dare not bear the
sunnygolden babe of day. NoLeopold. Name and memory solace thee not.
That youthful illusion of thy strength was taken from thee--and in vain.
No son of thy loins is by thee. There is none now to be for Leopoldwhat
Leopold was for Rudolph.

The voices blend and fuse in clouded silence: silence that is the
infinite of space: and swiftlysilently the soul is wafted over regions of
cycles of generations that have lived. A region where grey twilight ever
descendsnever falls on wide sagegreen pasturefieldsshedding her dusk
scattering a perennial dew of stars. She follows her mother with ungainly
stepsa mare leading her fillyfoal. Twilight phantoms are theyyet moulded
in prophetic grace of structureslim shapely haunchesa supple tendonous
neckthe meek apprehensive skull. They fadesad phantoms: all is gone.
Agendath is a waste landa home of screechowls and the sandblind upupa.
Netaimthe goldenis no more. And on the highway of the clouds they
comemuttering thunder of rebellionthe ghosts of beasts. Huuh! Hark!
Huuh! Parallax stalks behind and goads themthe lancinating lightnings of
whose brow are scorpions. Elk and yakthe bulls of Bashan and of
Babylonmammoth and mastodonthey come trooping to the sunken sea
LACUS MORTIS. Ominous revengeful zodiacal host! They moanpassing upon
the cloudshorned and capricornedthe trumpeted with the tuskedthe
lionmanedthe giantantleredsnouter and crawlerrodentruminant and
pachydermall their moving moaning multitudemurderers of the sun.

Onward to the dead sea they tramp to drinkunslaked and with horrible
gulpingsthe salt somnolent inexhaustible flood. And the equine portent
grows againmagnified in the deserted heavensnay to heaven's own
magnitudetill it loomsvastover the house of Virgo. And lowonder
of metempsychosisit is shethe everlasting brideharbinger of the
daystarthe brideever virgin. It is sheMarthathou lost one
Millicentthe youngthe dearthe radiant. How serene does she now
arisea queen among the Pleiadesin the penultimate antelucan hour
shod in sandals of bright goldcoifed with a veil of what do you


call it gossamer. It floatsit flows about her starborn flesh and
loose it streamsemeraldsapphiremauve and heliotropesustained
on currents of the cold interstellar windwindingcoilingsimply
swirlingwrithing in the skies a mysterious writing tillafter
a myriad metamorphoses of symbolit blazesAlphaa ruby and triangled
sign upon the forehead of Taurus.

Francis was reminding Stephen of years before when they had been at
school together in Conmee's time. He asked about GlauconAlcibiades
Pisistratus. Where were they now? Neither knew. You have spoken of the
past and its phantomsStephen said. Why think of them? If I call them
into life across the waters of Lethe will not the poor ghosts troop to
my call? Who supposes it? IBous Stephanoumenosbullockbefriending
bardam lord and giver of their life. He encircled his gadding hair
with a coronal of vineleavessmiling at Vincent. That answer and those
leavesVincent said to himwill adorn you more fitly when something
moreand greatly morethan a capful of light odes can call your
genius father. All who wish you well hope this for you. All desire
to see you bring forth the work you meditateto acclaim you
Stephaneforos. I heartily wish you may not fail them. O noVincent

Lenehan saidlaying a hand on the shoulder near him. Have no fear.
He could not leave his mother an orphan. The young man's face
grew dark. All could see how hard it was for him to be reminded of his
promise and of his recent loss. He would have withdrawn from the feast
had not the noise of voices allayed the smart. Madden had lost five
drachmas on Sceptre for a whim of the rider's name: Lenehan as much
more. He told them of the race. The flag fell andhuuh! offscamperthe
mare ran out freshly with 0. Madden up. She was leading the field. All
hearts were beating. Even Phyllis could not contain herself. She waved her
scarf and cried: Huzzah! Sceptre wins! But in the straight on the run home
when all were in close order the dark horse Throwaway drew levelreached
outstripped her. All was lost now. Phyllis was silent: her eyes were
sad anemones. Junoshe criedI am undone. But her lover consoled her and
brought her a bright casket of gold in which lay some oval sugarplums
which she partook. A tear fell: one only. A whacking fine whipsaid
Lenehanis W. Lane. Four winners yesterday and three today. What rider is
like him? Mount him on the camel or the boisterous buffalo the victory in
a hack canter is still his. But let us bear it as was the ancient wont.
Mercy on the luckless! Poor Sceptre! he said with a light sigh.
She is not the filly that she was. Neverby this handshall we
behold such another. By gadsira queen of them. Do you remember
herVincent? I wish you could have seen my queen todayVincent
said. How young she was and radiant (Lalage were scarce fair
beside her) in her yellow shoes and frock of muslinI do not know the
right name of it. The chestnuts that shaded us were in bloom: the air
drooped with their persuasive odour and with pollen floating by us. In the
sunny patches one might easily have cooked on a stone a batch of those
buns with Corinth fruit in them that Periplipomenes sells in his booth
near the bridge. But she had nought for her teeth but the arm with which I
held her and in that she nibbled mischievously when I pressed too close. A
week ago she lay illfour days on the couchbut today she was free
blithemocked at peril. She is more taking then. Her posies tool Mad
romp that she isshe had pulled her fill as we reclined together. And in
your earmy friendyou will not think who met us as we left the field.
Conmee himself! He was walking by the hedgereadingI think a brevier
book withI doubt nota witty letter in it from Glycera or Chloe to
keep the page. The sweet creature turned all colours in her confusion
feigning to reprove a slight disorder in her dress: a slip of underwood
clung there for the very trees adore her. When Conmee had passed she
glanced at her lovely echo in that little mirror she carries. But he had
been kind. In going by he had blessed us. The gods too are ever kind
Lenehan said. If I had poor luck with Bass's mare perhaps this draught
of his may serve me more propensely. He was laying his hand upon
a winejar: Malachi saw it and withheld his actpointing to the


stranger and to the scarlet label. WarilyMalachi whisperedpreserve
a druid silence. His soul is far away. It is as painful perhaps to be
awakened from a vision as to be born. Any objectintensely regardedmay
be a gate of access to the incorruptible eon of the gods. Do you not think
itStephen? Theosophos told me soStephen answeredwhom in a previous
existence Egyptian priests initiated into the mysteries of karmic law. The
lords of the moonTheosophos told mean orangefiery shipload from
planet Alpha of the lunar chain would not assume the etheric doubles and
these were therefore incarnated by the rubycoloured egos from the second
constellation.

Howeveras a matter of fact thoughthe preposterous surmise about him
being in some description of a doldrums or other or mesmerised which was.
entirely due to a misconception of the shallowest characterwas not the
case at all. The individual whose visual organs while the above was going
on were at this juncture commencing to exhibit symptoms of animation was
as astute if not astuter than any man living and anybody that conjectured
the contrary would have found themselves pretty speedily in the wrong
shop. During the past four minutes or thereabouts he had been staring hard
at a certain amount of number one Bass bottled by Messrs Bass and Co at
Burton-on-Trent which happened to be situated amongst a lot of others
right opposite to where he was and which was certainly calculated to
attract anyone's remark on account of its scarlet appearance. He was
simply and solelyas it subsequently transpired for reasons best known
to himselfwhich put quite an altogether different complexion on
the proceedingsafter the moment before's observations about boyhood
days and the turfrecollecting two or three private transactions of
his own which the other two were as mutually innocent of as the babe
unborn. Eventuallyhoweverboth their eyes met and as soon as
it began to dawn on him that the other was endeavouring to help
himself to the thing he involuntarily determined to help him himself
and so he accordingly took hold of the neck of the mediumsized glass
recipient which contained the fluid sought after and made a capacious
hole in it by pouring a lot of it out withalso at the same time
howevera considerable degree of attentiveness in order not to upset
any of the beer that was in it about the place.

The debate which ensued was in its scope and progress an epitome of
the course of life. Neither place nor council was lacking in dignity. The
debaters were the keenest in the landthe theme they were engaged on the
loftiest and most vital. The high hall of Horne's house had never beheld an
assembly so representative and so varied nor had the old rafters of that
establishment ever listened to a language so encyclopaedic. A gallant scene
in truth it made. Crotthers was there at the foot of the table in his
striking Highland garbhis face glowing from the briny airs of the Mull
of Galloway. There tooopposite to himwas Lynch whose countenance bore
already the stigmata of early depravity and premature wisdom. Next the
Scotchman was the place assigned to Costellothe eccentricwhile at his
side was seated in stolid repose the squat form of Madden. The chair of the
resident indeed stood vacant before the hearth but on either flank of it
the figure of Bannon in explorer's kit of tweed shorts and salted cowhide
brogues contrasted sharply with the primrose elegance and townbred
manners of Malachi Roland St John Mulligan. Lastly at the head of the
board was the young poet who found a refuge from his labours of
pedagogy and metaphysical inquisition in the convivial atmosphere of
Socratic discussionwhile to right and left of him were accommodated the
flippant prognosticatorfresh from the hippodromeand that vigilant
wanderersoiled by the dust of travel and combat and stained by the mire of
an indelible dishonourbut from whose steadfast and constant heart no lure
or peril or threat or degradation could ever efface the image of that
voluptuous loveliness which the inspired pencil of Lafayette has limned for
ages yet to come.

It had better be stated here and now at the outset that the perverted


transcendentalism to which Mr S. Dedalus' (Div. Scep.) contentions would
appear to prove him pretty badly addicted runs directly counter to accepted
scientific methods. Scienceit cannot be too often repeateddeals with
tangible phenomena. The man of science like the man in the street has to
face hardheaded facts that cannot be blinked and explain them as best he
can. There may beit is truesome questions which science cannot
answer--at present--such as the first problem submitted by Mr L. Bloom (Pubb.
Canv.) regarding the future determination of sex. Must we accept the view
of Empedocles of Trinacria that the right ovary (the postmenstrual period
assert others) is responsible for the birth of males or are the too long
neglected spermatozoa or nemasperms the differentiating factors or is itas
most embryologists incline to opinesuch as CulpepperSpallanzani
BlumenbachLuskHertwigLeopold and Valentia mixture of both? This
would be tantamount to a cooperation (one of nature's favourite devices)
between the NISUS FORMATIVUS of the nemasperm on the one hand and on the
other a happily chosen positionSUCCUBITUS FELIX of the passive element. The
other problem raised by the same inquirer is scarcely less vital: infant
mortality. It is interesting becauseas he pertinently remarkswe are all
born in the same way but we all die in different ways. Mr M. Mulligan
(Hyg. et Eug. Doc.) blames the sanitary conditions in which our
greylunged citizens contract adenoidspulmonary complaints etc. by
inhaling the bacteria which lurk in dust. These factorshe allegedand the
revolting spectacles offered by our streetshideous publicity posters
religious ministers of all denominationsmutilated soldiers and sailors
exposed scorbutic cardriversthe suspended carcases of dead animals
paranoic bachelors and unfructified duennas--thesehe saidwere
accountable for any and every fallingoff in the calibre of the race.
Kalipediahe prophesiedwould soon be generally adopted and all the
graces of lifegenuinely good musicagreeable literaturelight philosophy
instructive picturesplastercast reproductions of the classical statues such
as Venus and Apolloartistic coloured photographs of prize babiesall these
little attentions would enable ladies who were in a particular condition to
pass the intervening months in a most enjoyable manner. Mr J. Crotthers
(Disc. Bacc.) attributes some of these demises to abdominal trauma in the
case of women workers subjected to heavy labours in the workshop and to
marital discipline in the home but by far the vast majority to neglect
private or officialculminating in the exposure of newborn infants
the practice of criminal abortion or in the atrocious crime of
infanticide. Although the former (we are thinking of neglect) is
undoubtedly only too true the case he cites of nurses forgetting to
count the sponges in the peritoneal cavity is too rare to be
normative. In fact when one comes to look into it the wonder is
that so many pregnancies and deliveries go off so well as they doall things
considered and in spite of our human shortcomings which often baulk
nature in her intentions. An ingenious suggestion is that thrown out by Mr

V. Lynch (Bacc. Arith.) that both natality and mortalityas well as all other
phenomena of evolutiontidal movementslunar phasesblood
temperaturesdiseases in generaleverythingin finein nature's vast
workshop from the extinction of some remote sun to the blossoming of one
of the countless flowers which beautify our public parks is subject to a law
of numeration as yet unascertained. Still the plain straightforward question
why a child of normally healthy parents and seemingly a healthy child and
properly looked after succumbs unaccountably in early childhood (though
other children of the same marriage do not) must certainlyin the poet's
wordsgive us pause. Naturewe may rest assuredhas her own good and
cogent reasons for whatever she does and in all probability such deaths are
due to some law of anticipation by which organisms in which morbous
germs have taken up their residence (modern science has conclusively
shown that only the plasmic substance can be said to be immortal) tend to
disappear at an increasingly earlier stage of developmentan arrangement
whichthough productive of pain to some of our feelings (notably the
maternal)is neverthelesssome of us thinkin the long run beneficial to
the race in general in securing thereby the survival of the fittest.
Mr S. Dedalus' (Div. Scep.) remark (or should it be called an interruption?)

that an omnivorous being which can masticatedeglutedigest and apparently
pass through the ordinary channel with pluterperfect imperturbability such
multifarious aliments as cancrenous females emaciated by parturition
corpulent professional gentlemennot to speak of jaundiced politicians and
chlorotic nunsmight possibly find gastric relief in an innocent collation of
staggering bobreveals as nought else could and in a very unsavoury light
the tendency above alluded to. For the enlightenment of those who are not
so intimately acquainted with the minutiae of the municipal abattoir as this
morbidminded esthete and embryo philosopher who for all his overweening
bumptiousness in things scientific can scarcely distinguish an acid from an
alkali prides himself on beingit should perhaps be stated that staggering
bob in the vile parlance of our lowerclass licensed victuallers signifies the
cookable and eatable flesh of a calf newly dropped from its mother. In a
recent public controversy with Mr L. Bloom (Pubb. Canv.) which took
place in the commons' hall of the National Maternity Hospital2930 and
31 Holles streetof whichas is well knownDr A. Horne (Lic. in Midw.

F. K. Q. C. P. I.) is the able and popular masterhe is reported by
eyewitnesses as having stated that once a woman has let the cat into the bag
(an esthete's allusionpresumablyto one of the most complicated and
marvellous of all nature's processes--the act of sexual congress) she must
let it out again or give it lifeas he phrased itto save her own. At the
risk of her ownwas the telling rejoinder of his interlocutornone the less
effective for the moderate and measured tone in which it was delivered.
Meanwhile the skill and patience of the physician had brought about
a happy ACCOUCHEMENT. It had been a weary weary while both for patient
and doctor. All that surgical skill could do was done and the brave woman
had manfully helped. She had. She had fought the good fight and now she
was very very happy. Those who have passed onwho have gone beforeare
happy too as they gaze down and smile upon the touching scene. Reverently
look at her as she reclines there with the motherlight in her eyesthat
longing hunger for baby fingers (a pretty sight it is to see)in the first
bloom of her new motherhoodbreathing a silent prayer of thanksgiving to One
abovethe Universal Husband. And as her loving eyes behold her babe she
wishes only one blessing moreto have her dear Doady there with her to
share her joyto lay in his arms that mite of God's claythe fruit of their
lawful embraces. He is older now (you and I may whisper it) and a trifle
stooped in the shoulders yet in the whirligig of years a grave dignity has
come to the conscientious second accountant of the Ulster bankCollege
Green branch. O Doadyloved one of oldfaithful lifemate nowit may
never be againthat faroff time of the roses! With the old shake of her
pretty head she recalls those days. God! How beautiful now across the mist
of years! But their children are grouped in her imagination about the
bedsidehers and hisCharleyMary AliceFrederick Albert (if he had
lived)MamyBudgy (Victoria Frances)TomViolet Constance Louisa
darling little Bobsy (called after our famous hero of the South African war
lord Bobs of Waterford and Candahar) and now this last pledge of their
uniona Purefoy if ever there was onewith the true Purefoy nose. Young
hopeful will be christened Mortimer Edward after the influential third
cousin of Mr Purefoy in the Treasury Remembrancer's officeDublin
Castle. And so time wags on: but father Cronion has dealt lightly here. No
let no sigh break from that bosomdear gentle Mina. And Doadyknock
the ashes from your pipethe seasoned briar you still fancy when the curfew
rings for you (may it be the distant day!) and dout the light whereby you
read in the Sacred Book for the oil too has run lowand so with a tranquil
heart to bedto rest. He knows and will call in His own good time. You too
have fought the good fight and played loyally your man's part. Sirto you
my hand. Well donethou good and faithful servant!

There are sins or (let us call them as the world calls them) evil
memories which are hidden away by man in the darkest places of the heart
but they abide there and wait. He may suffer their memory to grow dimlet
them be as though they had not been and all but persuade himself that they
were not or at least were otherwise. Yet a chance word will call them forth


suddenly and they will rise up to confront him in the most various
circumstancesa vision or a dreamor while timbrel and harp soothe his
senses or amid the cool silver tranquility of the evening or at the feastat
midnightwhen he is now filled with wine. Not to insult over him will the
vision come as over one that lies under her wrathnot for vengeance to cut
him off from the living but shrouded in the piteous vesture of the past
silentremotereproachful.

The stranger still regarded on the face before him a slow recession of
that false calm thereimposedas it seemedby habit or some studied trick
upon words so embittered as to accuse in their speaker an unhealthinessa
FLAIRfor the cruder things of life. A scene disengages itself in the
observer's memoryevokedit would seemby a word of so natural a
homeliness as if those days were really present there (as some thought)
with their immediate pleasures. A shaven space of lawn one soft May
eveningthe wellremembered grove of lilacs at Roundtownpurple and
whitefragrant slender spectators of the game but with much real interest
in the pellets as they run slowly forward over the sward or collide and stop
one by its fellowwith a brief alert shock. And yonder about that grey urn
where the water moves at times in thoughtful irrigation you saw another as
fragrant sisterhoodFloeyAttyTiny and their darker friend with I know not
what of arresting in her pose thenOur Lady of the Cherriesa comely brace
of them pendent from an earbringing out the foreign warmth of the skin so
daintily against the cool ardent fruit. A lad of four or five in linseywoolsey
(blossomtime but there will be cheer in the kindly hearth when ere long the
bowls are gathered and hutched) is standing on the urn secured by that
circle of girlish fond hands. He frowns a little just as this young man does
now with a perhaps too conscious enjoyment of the danger but must needs
glance at whiles towards where his mother watches from the PIAZZETTA
giving upon the flowerclose with a faint shadow of remoteness or of
reproach (ALLES VERGANGLICHE) in her glad look.

Mark this farther and remember. The end comes suddenly. Enter that
antechamber of birth where the studious are assembled and note their faces.
Nothingas it seemsthere of rash or violent. Quietude of custodyrather
befitting their station in that housethe vigilant watch of shepherds and of
angels about a crib in Bethlehem of Juda long ago. But as before the
lightning the serried stormcloudsheavy with preponderant excess of
moisturein swollen masses turgidly distendedcompass earth and sky in
one vast slumberimpending above parched field and drowsy oxen and
blighted growth of shrub and verdure till in an instant a flash rives their
centres and with the reverberation of the thunder the cloudburst pours its
torrentso and not otherwise was the transformationviolent and
instantaneousupon the utterance of the word.

Burke's! outflings my lord Stephengiving the cryand a tag and
bobtail of all them aftercockereljackanapeswelsherpilldoctorpunctual
Bloom at heels with a universal grabbing at headgearashplantsbilbos
Panama hats and scabbardsZermatt alpenstocks and what not. A dedale of
lusty youthnoble every student there. Nurse Callan taken aback in the
hallway cannot stay them nor smiling surgeon coming downstairs with
news of placentation endeda full pound if a milligramme. They hark him
on. The door! It is open? Ha! They are outtumultuouslyoff for a
minute's raceall bravely legging itBurke's of Denzille and Holles their
ulterior goal. Dixon follows giving them sharp language but raps out an
oathhe tooand on. Bloom stays with nurse a thought to send a kind word
to happy mother and nurseling up there. Doctor Diet and Doctor Quiet.
Looks she too not other now? Ward of watching in Horne's house has told
its tale in that washedout pallor. Then all being gonea glance of motherwit
helpinghe whispers close in going: Madamwhen comes the storkbird for
thee?

The air without is impregnated with raindew moisturelife essence
celestialglistening on Dublin stone there under starshiny COELUM. God's


airthe Allfather's airscintillant circumambient cessile air. Breathe it
deep into thee. By heavenTheodore Purefoythou hast done a doughty deed
and no botch! Thou artI vowthe remarkablest progenitor barring none in
this chaffering allincluding most farraginous chronicle. Astounding! In her
lay a Godframed Godgiven preformed possibility which thou hast fructified
with thy modicum of man's work. Cleave to her! Serve! Toil onlabour like
a very bandog and let scholarment and all Malthusiasts go hang. Thou art
all their daddiesTheodore. Art drooping under thy loadbemoiled with
butcher's bills at home and ingots (not thine!) in the countinghouse? Head
up! For every newbegotten thou shalt gather thy homer of ripe wheat. See
thy fleece is drenched. Dost envy Darby Dullman there with his Joan? A
canting jay and a rheumeyed curdog is all their progeny. PshawI tell thee!
He is a mulea dead gasteropodwithout vim or staminanot worth a
cracked kreutzer. Copulation without population! Nosay I! Herod's
slaughter of the innocents were the truer name. Vegetablesforsoothand
sterile cohabitation! Give her beefsteaksredrawbleeding! She is a hoary
pandemonium of illsenlarged glandsmumpsquinsybunionshayfever
bedsoresringwormfloating kidneyDerbyshire neckwartsbilious attacks
gallstonescold feetvaricose veins. A truce to threnes and trentals
and jeremies and all such congenital defunctive music! Twenty years of it
regret them not. With thee it was not as with many that will and would and
wait and never--do. Thou sawest thy Americathy lifetaskand didst
charge to cover like the transpontine bison. How saith Zarathustra? DEINE
KUH TRUBSAL MELKEST DU. NUN TRINKST DU DIE SUSSE MILCH DES EUTERS. See! it
displodes for thee in abundance. Drinkmanan udderful! Mother's milk
Purefoythe milk of human kinmilk too of those burgeoning stars
overhead rutilant in thin rainvapourpunch milksuch as those rioters will
quaff in their guzzling denmilk of madnessthe honeymilk of Canaan's
land. Thy cow's dug was toughwhat? Aybut her milk is hot and sweet
and fattening. No dollop this but thick rich bonnyclaber. To herold
patriarch! Pap! PER DEAM PARTULAM ET PERTUNDAM NUNC EST BIBENDUM!

All off for a busterarmstronghollering down the street. Bonafides.
Where you slep las nigh? Timothy of the battered naggin. Like ole Billyo.
Any brollies or gumboots in the fambly? Where the Henry Nevil's
sawbones and ole clo? Sorra one o' me knows. Hurrah thereDix! Forward
to the ribbon counter. Where's Punch? All serene. Jaylook at the drunken
minister coming out of the maternity hospal! BENEDICAT VOS OMNIPOTENS
DEUSPATER ET FILIUS. A makemister. The Denzille lane boys. Hellblast ye!
Scoot. RightoIsaacsshove em out of the bleeding limelight. Yous join uz
dear sir? No hentrusion in life. Lou heap good man. Allee samee dis bunch.
EN AVANTMES ENFANTS! Fire away number one on the gun. Burke's!
Burke's! Thence they advanced five parasangs. Slattery's mounted foot.
Where's that bleeding awfur? Parson Steveapostates' creed! Nono
Mulligan! Abaft there! Shove ahead. Keep a watch on the clock.
Chuckingout time. Mullee! What's on you? MA MERE M'A MARIEE. British
Beatitudes! RETAMPLATAN DIGIDI BOUMBOUM. Ayes have it. To be printed and
bound at the Druiddrum press by two designing females. Calf covers of
pissedon green. Last word in art shades. Most beautiful book come out of
Ireland my time. SILENTIUM! Get a spurt on. Tention. Proceed to nearest
canteen and there annex liquor stores. March! Tramptramptrampthe
boys are (atitudes!) parching. Beerbeefbusinessbiblesbulldogs
battleshipsbuggery and bishops. Whether on the scaffold high. Beerbeef
trample the bibles. When for Irelandear. Trample the trampellers.
Thunderation! Keep the durned millingtary step. We fall. Bishops
boosebox. Halt! Heave to. Rugger. Scrum in. No touch kicking. Wowmy
tootsies! You hurt? Most amazingly sorry!

Query. Who's astanding this here do? Proud possessor of damnall.
Declare misery. Bet to the ropes. Me nantee saltee. Not a red at me this
week gone. Yours? Mead of our fathers for the UBERMENSCH. Dittoh. Five
number ones. Yousir? Ginger cordial. Chase methe cabby's caudle.
Stimulate the caloric. Winding of his ticker. Stopped short never to go
again when the old. Absinthe for mesavvy? CARAMBA! Have an eggnog or


a prairie oyster. Enemy? Avuncular's got my timepiece. Ten to. Obligated
awful. Don't mention it. Got a pectoral traumaehDix? Pos fact. Got bet
be a boomblebee whenever he wus settin sleepin in hes bit garten. Digs up
near the Mater. Buckled he is. Know his dona? Yupsartin I do. Full of a
dure. See her in her dishybilly. Peels off a credit. Lovey lovekin. None of
your lean kinenot much. Pull down the blindlove. Two Ardilauns. Same here.
Look slippery. If you fall don't wait to get up. Fivesevennine. Fine!
Got a prime pair of mincepiesno kid. And her take me to rests and her
anker of rum. Must be seen to be believed. Your starving eyes and
allbeplastered neck you stole my heartO gluepot. Sir? Spud again the
rheumatiz? All poppycockyou'll scuse me saying. For the hoi polloi. I vear
thee beest a gert vool. Welldoc? Back fro Lapland? Your corporosity
sagaciating O K? How's the squaws and papooses? Womanbody after
going on the straw? Stand and deliver. Password. There's hair. Ours the
white death and the ruddy birth. Hi! Spit in your own eyeboss!
Mummer's wire. Cribbed out of Meredith. Jesifiedorchidisedpolycimical
jesuit! Aunty mine's writing Pa Kinch. Baddybad Stephen lead astray
goodygood Malachi.

Hurroo! Collar the leatheryoungun. Roun wi the nappy. HereJock
braw Hielentman's your barleybree. Lang may your lum reek and your
kailpot boil! My tipple. MERCI. Here's to us. How's that? Leg before wicket.
Don't stain my brandnew sitinems. Give's a shake of peppeyou there.
Catch aholt. Caraway seed to carry away. Twig? Shrieks of silence. Every
cove to his gentry mort. Venus Pandemos. LES PETITES FEMMES. Bold bad girl
from the town of Mullingar. Tell her I was axing at her. Hauding Sara by
the wame. On the road to Malahide. Me? If she who seduced me had left
but the name. What do you want for ninepence? Machreemacruiskeen.
Smutty Moll for a mattress jig. And a pull all together. EX!

Waitingguvnor? Most deciduously. Bet your boots on. Stunned like
seeing as how no shiners is acoming. Underconstumble? He've got the
chink AD LIB. Seed near free poun on un a spell ago a said war hisn. Us
come right in on your invitesee? Up to youmatey. Out with the oof. Two
bar and a wing. You larn that go off of they there Frenchy bilks? Won't
wash here for nuts nohow. Lil chile velly solly. Ise de cutest colour coon
down our side. Gawds teruthChawley. We are nae fou. We're nae tha fou.
Au reservoirmossoo. Tanks you.

'Tissure. What say? In the speakeasy. Tight. I shee youshir.
Bantamtwo days teetee. Bowsing nowt but claretwine. Garn! Have a glint
do. GumI'm jiggered. And been to barber he have. Too full for words.
With a railway bloke. How come you so? Opera he'd like? Rose of Castile.
Rows of cast. Police! Some H2O for a gent fainted. Look at Bantam's
flowers. Gemini. He's going to holler. The colleen bawn. My colleen bawn.
Ocheese it! Shut his blurry Dutch oven with a firm hand. Had the winner
today till I tipped him a dead cert. The ruffin cly the nab of Stephen Hand
as give me the jady coppaleen. He strike a telegramboy paddock wire big
bug Bass to the depot. Shove him a joey and grahamise. Mare on form hot
order. Guinea to a goosegog. Tell a cramthat. Gospeltrue. Criminal
diversion? I think that yes. Sure thing. Land him in chokeechokee if the
harman beck copped the game. Madden back Madden's a maddening back.
O lust our refuge and our strength. Decamping. Must you go? Off to
mammy. Stand by. Hide my blushes someone. All in if he spots me. Come
ahomeour Bantam. Horryvarmong vioo. Dinna forget the cowslips for
hersel. Cornfide. Wha gev ye thon colt? Pal to pal. Jannock. Of John
Thomasher spouse. No fakeold man Leo. S'elp mehonest injun. Shiver
my timbers if I had. There's a great big holy friar. Vyfor you no me tell?
VelI sesif that aint a sheeny nachezvelI vil get misha mishinnah.
Through yerd our lordAmen.

You move a motion? Steve boyyou're going it some. More bluggy
drunkables? Will immensely splendiferous stander permit one stooder of
most extreme poverty and one largesize grandacious thirst to terminate one


expensive inaugurated libation? Give's a breather. Landlordlandlordhave
you good winestaboo? Hootsmona wee drap to pree. Cut and come
again. Right. Boniface! Absinthe the lot. NOS OMNES BIBERIMUS VIRIDUM
TOXICUM DIABOLUS CAPIAT POSTERIORIA NOSTRIA. Closingtimegents. Eh? Rome
boose for the Bloom toff. I hear you say onions? Bloo? Cadges ads. Photo's
papliby all that's gorgeous. Play lowpardner. Slide. BONSOIR LA COMPAGNIE.
And snares of the poxfiend. Where's the buck and Namby Amby?
Skunked? Leg bail. Aweelye maun e'en gang yer gates. Checkmate. King
to tower. Kind Kristyann wil yu help yung man hoose frend tuk bungellow
kee tu find plais whear tu lay crown of his hed 2 night. CrickeyI'm about
sprung. Tarnally dog gone my shins if this beent the bestest puttiest
longbreak yet. Itemcuratecouple of cookies for this child. Cot's plood
and prandypallsnone! Not a pite of sheeses? Thrust syphilis down to hell
and with him those other licensed spirits. Timegents! Who wander
through the world. Health all! A LA VOTRE!

Gollywhatten tunket's yon guy in the mackintosh? Dusty Rhodes.
Peep at his wearables. By mighty! What's he got? Jubilee mutton. Bovrilby
James. Wants it real bad. D'ye ken bare socks? Seedy cuss in the
Richmond? Rawthere! Thought he had a deposit of lead in his penis.
Trumpery insanity. Bartle the Bread we calls him. Thatsirwas once a
prosperous cit. Man all tattered and torn that married a maiden all forlorn.
Slung her hookshe did. Here see lost love. Walking Mackintosh of lonely
canyon. Tuck and turn in. Schedule time. Nix for the hornies. Pardon?
Seen him today at a runefal? Chum o' yourn passed in his checks?
Ludamassy! Pore piccaninnies! Thou'll no be telling me thotPold veg! Did
ums blubble bigsplash crytears cos fren Padney was took off in black bag?
Of all de darkies Massa Pat was verra best. I never see the like since I was
born. TIENSTIENSbut it is well sadthatmy faithyes. Ogetrev on a
gradient one in nine. Live axle drives are souped. Lay you two to one
Jenatzy licks him ruddy well hollow. Jappies? High angle fireinyah! Sunk
by war specials. Be worse for himsays henor any Rooshian. Time all.
There's eleven of them. Get ye gone. Forwardwoozy wobblers! Night.
Night. May Allah the Excellent One your soul this night ever tremendously
conserve.

Your attention! We're nae tha fou. The Leith police dismisseth us. The
least tholice. Ware hawks for the chap puking. Unwell in his abominable
regions. Yooka. Night. Monamy true love. Yook. Monamy own love.
Ook.

Hark! Shut your obstropolos. Pflaap! Pflaap! Blaze on. There she
goes. Brigade! Bout ship. Mount street way. Cut up! Pflaap! Tally ho. You
not come? Runskelterrace. Pflaaaap!

Lynch! Hey? Sign on long o' me. Denzille lane this way. Change here
for Bawdyhouse. We twoshe saidwill seek the kips where shady Mary is.
Rightoany old time. LAETABUNTUR IN CUBILIBUS SUIS. You coming long?
Whisperwho the sooty hell's the johnny in the black duds? Hush! Sinned
against the light and even now that day is at hand when he shall come to
judge the world by fire. Pflaap! UT IMPLERENTUR SCRIPTURAE. Strike up a
ballad. Then outspake medical Dick to his comrade medical Davy.
Christiclewho's this excrement yellow gospeller on the Merrion hall?
Elijah is coming! Washed in the blood of the Lamb. Come on you
winefizzlingginsizzlingbooseguzzling existences! Come onyou
dog-gonebullneckedbeetlebrowedhogjowledpeanutbrainedweaseleyed
fourflushersfalse alarms and excess baggage! Come onyou triple extract
of infamy! Alexander J Christ Dowiethat's my namethat's yanked to
glory most half this planet from Frisco beach to Vladivostok. The Deity
aint no nickel dime bumshow. I put it to you that He's on the square and a
corking fine business proposition. He's the grandest thing yet and don't
you forget it. Shout salvation in King Jesus. You'll need to rise precious
early you sinner thereif you want to diddle the Almighty God. Pflaaaap!
Not half. He's got a coughmixture with a punch in it for youmy friend


in his back pocket. Just you try it on.

* * * * * * *

THE MABBOT STREET ENTRANCE OF NIGHTTOWNBEFORE WHICH STRETCHES
AN UNCOBBLED TRAMSIDING SET WITH SKELETON TRACKSRED AND GREEN
WILL-O'-THE-WISPS AND DANGER SIGNALS. ROWS OF GRIMY HOUSES WITH
GAPING DOORS. RARE LAMPS WITH FAINT RAINBOW FINS. ROUND
RABAIOTTI'S HALTED ICE GONDOLA STUNTED MEN AND WOMEN SQUABBLE.
THEY GRAB WAFERS BETWEEN WHICH ARE WEDGED LUMPS OF CORAL AND
COPPER SNOW. SUCKINGTHEY SCATTER SLOWLY. CHILDREN. THE SWANCOMB
OF THE GONDOLAHIGHREAREDFORGES ON THROUGH THE MURKWHITE AND
BLUE UNDER A LIGHTHOUSE. WHISTLES CALL AND ANSWER.

THE CALLS: Waitmy loveand I'll be with you.

THE ANSWERS: Round behind the stable.

(A DEAFMUTE IDIOT WITH GOGGLE EYESHIS SHAPELESS MOUTH DRIBBLING
JERKS PASTSHAKEN IN SAINT VITUS' DANCE. A CHAIN OF CHILDREN 'S HANDS
IMPRISONS HIM.)

THE CHILDREN: Kithogue! Salute!

THE IDIOT: (LIFTS A PALSIED LEFT ARM AND GURGLES) Grhahute!

THE CHILDREN: Where's the great light?

THE IDIOT: (GOBBING) Ghaghahest.

(THEY RELEASE HIM. HE JERKS ON. A PIGMY WOMAN SWINGS ON A ROPE
SLUNG BETWEEN TWO RAILINGSCOUNTING. A FORM SPRAWLED AGAINST A
DUSTBIN AND MUFFLED BY ITS ARM AND HAT SNORESGROANSGRINDING
GROWLING TEETHAND SNORES AGAIN. ON A STEP A GNOME TOTTING AMONG
A RUBBISHTIP CROUCHES TO SHOULDER A SACK OF RAGS AND BONES. A CRONE
STANDING BY WITH A SMOKY OILLAMP RAMS HER LAST BOTTLE IN THE MAW OF
HIS SACK. HE HEAVES HIS BOOTYTUGS ASKEW HIS PEAKED CAP AND
HOBBLES OFF MUTELY. THE CRONE MAKES BACK FOR HER LAIRSWAYING HER
LAMP. A BANDY CHILDASQUAT ON THE DOORSTEP WITH A PAPER
SHUTTLECOCKCRAWLS SIDLING AFTER HER IN SPURTSCLUTCHES HER SKIRT
SCRAMBLES UP. A DRUNKEN NAVVY GRIPS WITH BOTH HANDS THE RAILINGS
OF AN AREALURCHING HEAVILY. AT A COMER TWO NIGHT WATCH IN
SHOULDERCAPESTHEIR HANDS UPON THEIR STAFFHOLSTERSLOOM TALL. A
PLATE CRASHES: A WOMAN SCREAMS: A CHILD WAILS. OATHS OF A MAN
ROARMUTTERCEASE. FIGURES WANDERLURKPEER FROM WARRENS. IN A
ROOM LIT BY A CANDLE STUCK IN A BOTTLENECK A SLUT COMBS OUT THE TATTS
FROM THE HAIR OF A SCROFULOUS CHILD. CISSY CAFFREY'S VOICESTILL
YOUNGSINGS SHRILL FROM A LANE.)

CISSY CAFFREY:

I GAVE IT TO MOLLY
BECAUSE SHE WAS JOLLY
THE LEG OF THE DUCK
THE LEG OF THE DUCK.


(PRIVATE CARR AND PRIVATE COMPTONSWAGGERSTICKS TIGHT IN THEIR
OXTERSAS THEY MARCH UNSTEADILY RIGHTABOUTFACE AND BURST TOGETHER
FROM THEIR MOUTHS A VOLLEYED FART. LAUGHTER OF MEN FROM THE LANE. A
HOARSE VIRAGO RETORTS.)


THE VIRAGO: Signs on youhairy arse. More power the Cavan girl.

CISSY CAFFREY: More luck to me. CavanCootehill and Belturbet.
(SHE SINGS)

I GAVE IT TO NELLY
TO STICK IN HER BELLY
THE LEG OF THE DUCK
THE LEG OF THE DUCK.


(PRIVATE CARR AND PRIVATE COMPTON TURN AND COUNTERRETORTTHEIR
TUNICS BLOODBRIGHT IN A LAMPGLOWBLACK SOCKETS OF CAPS ON THEIR
BLOND CROPPED POLLS. STEPHEN DEDALUS AND LYNCH PASS THROUGH THE
CROWD CLOSE TO THE REDCOATS.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: (JERKS HIS FINGER) Way for the parson.

PRIVATE CARR: (TURNS AND CALLS) What hoparson!

CISSY CAFFREY: (HER VOICE SOARING HIGHER)

SHE HAS ITSHE GOT IT
WHEREVER SHE PUT IT
THE LEG OF THE DUCK.


(STEPHENFLOURISHING THE ASHPLANT IN HIS LEFT HANDCHANTS WITH JOY
THE INTROIT FOR PASCHAL TIME. LYNCHHIS JOCKEYCAP LOW ON HIS BROW
ATTENDS HIMA SNEER OF DISCONTENT WRINKLING HIS FACE.)

STEPHEN: VIDI AQUAM EGREDIENTEM DE TEMPLO A LATERE DEXTRO. ALLELUIA.

(THE FAMISHED SNAGGLETUSKS OF AN ELDERLY BAWD PROTRUDE FROM A DOORWAY.)

THE BAWD: (HER VOICE WHISPERING HUSKILY) Sst! Come here till I tell you.
Maidenhead inside. Sst!

STEPHEN: (ALTIUS ALIQUANTULUM) ET OMNES AD QUOS PERVENIT AQUA ISTA.

THE BAWD: (SPITS IN THEIR TRAIL HER JET OF VENOM) Trinity medicals.
Fallopian tube. All prick and no pence.

(EDY BOARDMANSNIFFLINGCROUCHED WITH BERTHA SUPPLEDRAWS HER
SHAWL ACROSS HER NOSTRILS.)

EDY BOARDMAN: (BICKERING) And says the one: I seen you up Faithful place
with your squarepusherthe greaser off the railwayin his cometobed
hat. Did yousays I. That's not for you to saysays I. You never
seen me in the mantrap with a married highlandersays I. The likes
of her! Stag that one is! Stubborn as a mule! And her walking with two
fellows the one timeKilbridethe enginedriverand lancecorporal
Oliphant.

STEPHEN: (TRIUMPHALITER) SALVI FACTI SUNT.

(HE FLOURISHES HIS ASHPLANTSHIVERING THE LAMP IMAGESHATTERING
LIGHT OVER THE WORLD. A LIVER AND WHITE SPANIEL ON THE PROWL SLINKS
AFTER HIMGROWLING. LYNCH SCARES IT WITH A KICK.)

LYNCH: So that?


STEPHEN: (LOOKS BEHIND) So that gesturenot music not odourwould be a
universal languagethe gift of tongues rendering visible not the lay
sense but the first entelechythe structural rhythm.

LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology. Metaphysics in Mecklenburgh street!

STEPHEN: We have shrewridden Shakespeare and henpecked Socrates. Even the
allwisest Stagyrite was bittedbridled and mounted by a light of love.

LYNCH: Ba!

STEPHEN: Anywaywho wants two gestures to illustrate a loaf and a jug?
This movement illustrates the loaf and jug of bread or wine in Omar.
Hold my stick.

LYNCH: Damn your yellow stick. Where are we going?

STEPHEN: Lecherous lynxTO LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCIGeorgina Johnson
AD DEAM QUI LAETIFICAT IUVENTUTEM MEAM.

(STEPHEN THRUSTS THE ASHPLANT ON HIM AND SLOWLY HOLDS OUT HIS
HANDSHIS HEAD GOING BACK TILL BOTH HANDS ARE A SPAN FROM HIS
BREASTDOWN TURNEDIN PLANES INTERSECTINGTHE FINGERS ABOUT TO
PARTTHE LEFT BEING HIGHER.)

LYNCH: Which is the jug of bread? It skills not. That or the customhouse.
Illustrate thou. Here take your crutch and walk.

(THEY PASS. TOMMY CAFFREY SCRAMBLES TO A GASLAMP ANDCLASPING
CLIMBS IN SPASMS. FROM THE TOP SPUR HE SLIDES DOWN. JACKY CAFFREY
CLASPS TO CLIMB. THE NAVVY LURCHES AGAINST THE LAMP. THE TWINS
SCUTTLE OFF IN THE DARK. THE NAVVYSWAYINGPRESSES A FOREFINGER
AGAINST A WING OF HIS NOSE AND EJECTS FROM THE FARTHER NOSTRIL A LONG
LIQUID JET OF SNOT. SHOULDERING THE LAMP HE STAGGERS AWAY THROUGH
THE CROWD WITH HIS FLARING CRESSET.

SNAKES OF RIVER FOG CREEP SLOWLY. FROM DRAINSCLEFTSCESSPOOLS
MIDDENS ARISE ON ALL SIDES STAGNANT FUMES. A GLOW LEAPS IN THE SOUTH
BEYOND THE SEAWARD REACHES OF THE RIVER. THE NAVVYSTAGGERING
FORWARDCLEAVES THE CROWD AND LURCHES TOWARDS THE TRAMSIDING ON
THE FARTHER SIDE UNDER THE RAILWAY BRIDGE BLOOM APPEARSFLUSHED
PANTINGCRAMMING BREAD AND CHOCOLATE INTO A SIDEPOCKET. FROM
GILLEN'S HAIRDRESSER'S WINDOW A COMPOSITE PORTRAIT SHOWS HIM
GALLANT NELSON'S IMAGE. A CONCAVE MIRROR AT THE SIDE PRESENTS TO HIM
LOVELORN LONGLOST LUGUBRU BOOLOOHOOM. GRAVE GLADSTONE SEES HIM
LEVELBLOOM FOR BLOOM. HE PASSESSTRUCK BY THE STARE OF TRUCULENT
WELLINGTONBUT IN THE CONVEX MIRROR GRIN UNSTRUCK THE BONHAM EYES
AND FATCHUCK CHEEKCHOPS OF JOLLYPOLDY THE RIXDIX DOLDY.

AT ANTONIO PABAIOTTI'S DOOR BLOOM HALTSSWEATED UNDER THE BRIGHT
ARCLAMP. HE DISAPPEARS. IN A MOMENT HE REAPPEARS AND HURRIES
ON.)

BLOOM: Fish and taters. N. g. Ah!

(HE DISAPPEARS INTO OLHAUSEN'STHE PORKBUTCHER'SUNDER THE
DOWNCOMING ROLLSHUTTER. A FEW MOMENTS LATER HE EMERGES FROM
UNDER THE SHUTTERPUFFING POLDYBLOWING BLOOHOOM. IN EACH HAND
HE HOLDS A PARCELONE CONTAINING A LUKEWARM PIG'S CRUBEENTHE
OTHER A COLD SHEEP'S TROTTERSPRINKLED WITH WHOLEPEPPER. HE GASPS
STANDING UPRIGHT. THEN BENDING TO ONE SIDE HE PRESSES A PARCEL
AGAINST HIS RIBS AND GROANS.)


BLOOM: Stitch in my side. Why did I run?


(HE TAKES BREATH WITH CARE AND GOES FORWARD SLOWLY TOWARDS THE
LAMPSET SIDING. THE GLOW LEAPS AGAIN.)


BLOOM: What is that? A flasher? Searchlight.


(HE STANDS AT CORMACK'S CORNERWATCHING)


BLOOM: AURORA BOREALIS or a steel foundry? Ahthe brigadeof course. South
side anyhow. Big blaze. Might be his house. Beggar's bush. We're safe. (HE
HUMS CHEERFULLY) London's burningLondon's burning! On fireon fire!
(HE CATCHES SIGHT OF THE NAVVY LURCHING THROUGH THE CROWD AT THE FARTHER
SIDE OF TALBOT STREET) I'll miss him. Run. Quick. Better cross here.


(HE DARTS TO CROSS THE ROAD. URCHINS SHOUT.)


THE URCHINS: Mind outmister! (TWO CYCLISTSWITH LIGHTED PAPER LANTERNS
ASWINGSWIM BY HIMGRAZING HIMTHEIR BELLS RATTLING)


THE BELLS: Haltyaltyaltyall.


BLOOM: (HALTS ERECTSTUNG BY A SPASM) Ow!


(HE LOOKS ROUNDDARTS FORWARD SUDDENLY. THROUGH RISING FOG A
DRAGON SANDSTREWERTRAVELLING AT CAUTIONSLEWS HEAVILY DOWN UPON
HIMITS HUGE RED HEADLIGHT WINKINGITS TROLLEY HISSING ON THE WIRE.
THE MOTORMAN BANGS HIS FOOTGONG.)


THE GONG: Bang Bang Bla Bak Blud Bugg Bloo.


(THE BRAKE CRACKS VIOLENTLY. BLOOMRAISING A POLICEMAN'S
WHITEGLOVED HANDBLUNDERS STIFFLEGGED OUT OF THE TRACK. THE
MOTORMANTHROWN FORWARDPUGNOSEDON THE GUIDEWHEELYELLS AS
HE SLIDES PAST OVER CHAINS AND KEYS.)


THE MOTORMAN: Heyshitbreechesare you doing the hat trick?


BLOOM: (BLOOM TRICKLEAPS TO THE CURBSTONE AND HALTS AGAIN. HE BRUSHES A
MUDFLAKE FROM HIS CHEEK WITH A PARCELLED HAND.) No thoroughfare. Close
shave that but cured the stitch. Must take up Sandow's exercises
again. On the hands down. Insure against street accident too.
The Providential. (HE FEELS HIS TROUSER POCKET) Poor mamma's
panacea. Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a cog. Day the
wheel of the black Maria peeled off my shoe at Leonard's corner. Third
time is the charm. Shoe trick. Insolent driver. I ought to report him.
Tension makes them nervous. Might be the fellow balked me this morning
with that horsey woman. Same style of beauty. Quick of him all the same.
The stiff walk. True word spoken in jest. That awful cramp in Lad lane.
Something poisonous I ate. Emblem of luck. Why? Probably lost cattle.
Mark of the beast. (HE CLOSES HIS EYES AN INSTANT) Bit light in the head.
Monthly or effect of the other. Brainfogfag. That tired feeling. Too much
for me now. Ow!


(A SINISTER FIGURE LEANS ON PLAITED LEGS AGAINST O'BEIRNE'S WALLA
VISAGE UNKNOWNINJECTED WITH DARK MERCURY. FROM UNDER A
WIDELEAVED SOMBRERO THE FIGURE REGARDS HIM WITH EVIL EYE.)


BLOOM: BUENAS NOCHESSENORITA BLANCA. QUE CALLE ES ESTA?


THE FIGURE: (IMPASSIVERAISES A SIGNAL ARM) Password. SRAID MABBOT.


BLOOM: Haha. MERCI. Esperanto. SLAN LEATH. (HE MUTTERS) Gaelic league spy
sent by that fireeater.



(HE STEPS FORWARD. A SACKSHOULDERED RAGMAN BARS HIS PATH. HE STEPS LEFT
RAGSACKMAN LEFT.)

BLOOM: I beg. (HE SWERVESSIDLESSTEPASIDESLIPS PAST AND ON.)

BLOOM: Keep to the rightrightright. If there is a signpost planted by the
Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon? I who lost my way
and contributed to the columns of the IRISH CYCLIST the letter headed IN
DARKEST STEPASIDE. Keepkeepkeep to the right. Rags and bones at
midnight. A fence more likely. First place murderer makes for. Wash off
his sins of the world.

(JACKY CAFFREYHUNTED BY TOMMY CAFFREYRUNS FULL TILT AGAINST BLOOM.)

BLOOM: O

(SHOCKEDON WEAK HAMSHE HALTS. TOMMY AND JACKY VANISH THERE
THERE. BLOOM PATS WITH PARCELLED HANDS WATCH FOBPOCKETBOOKPOCKET
PURSEPOKETSWEETS OF SINPOTATO SOAP.)

BLOOM: Beware of pickpockets. Old thieves' dodge. Collide. Then snatch your
purse.

(THE RETRIEVER APPROACHES SNIFFINGNOSE TO THE GROUND. A SPRAWLED
FORM SNEEZES. A STOOPED BEARDED FIGURE APPEARS GARBED IN THE LONG
CAFTAN OF AN ELDER IN ZION AND A SMOKINGCAP WITH MAGENTA TASSELS.
HORNED SPECTACLES HANG DOWN AT THE WINGS OF THE NOSE. YELLOW
POISON STREAKS ARE ON THE DRAWN FACE.)

RUDOLPH: Second halfcrown waste money today. I told you not go with drunken
goy ever. So you catch no money.

BLOOM: (HIDES THE CRUBEEN AND TROTTER BEHIND HIS BACK ANDCRESTFALLENFEELS
WARM AND COLD FEETMEAT) JAICH WEISSPAPACHI.

RUDOLPH: What you making down this place? Have you no soul? (WITH FEEBLE
VULTURE TALONS HE FEELS THE SILENT FACE OF BLOOM) Are you not my son Leopold
the grandson of Leopold? Are you not my dear son Leopold who left the house
of his father and left the god of his fathers Abraham and Jacob?

BLOOM: (WITH PRECAUTION) I suppose sofather. Mosenthal. All that's left of
him.

RUDOLPH: (SEVERELY) One night they bring you home drunk as dog after spend
your good money. What you call them running chaps?

BLOOM: (IN YOUTH'S SMART BLUE OXFORD SUIT WITH WHITE VESTSLIPS
NARROWSHOULDEREDIN BROWN ALPINE HATWEARING GENT'S STERLING SILVER
WATERBURY KEYLESS WATCH AND DOUBLE CURB ALBERT WITH SEAL ATTACHEDONE
SIDE OF HIM COATED WITH STIFFENING MUD) Harriersfather. Only that once.

RUDOLPH: Once! Mud head to foot. Cut your hand open. Lockjaw. They make you
kaputtLeopoldleben. You watch them chaps.

BLOOM: (WEAKLY) They challenged me to a sprint. It was muddy. I slipped.

RUDOLPH: (WITH CONTEMPT) GOIM NACHEZ! Nice spectacles for your poor mother!

BLOOM: Mamma!

ELLEN BLOOM: (IN PANTOMIME DAME'S STRINGED MOBCAPWIDOW TWANKEY'S CRINOLINE
AND BUSTLEBLOUSE WITH MUTTONLEG SLEEVES BUTTONED BEHINDGREY MITTENS AND
CAMEO BROOCHHER PLAITED HAIR IN A CRISPINE NETAPPEARS OVER THE


STAIRCASE BANISTERSA SLANTED CANDLESTICK IN HER HANDAND CRIES OUT IN
SHRILL ALARM) O blessed Redeemerwhat have they done to him! My smelling
salts! (SHE HAULS UP A REEF OF SKIRT AND RANSACKS THE POUCH OF HER STRIPED
BLAY PETTICOAT. A PHIALAN AGNUS DEIA SHRIVELLED POTATO AND A CELLULOID
DOLL FALL OUT) Sacred Heart of Marywhere were you at all at all?


(BLOOMMUMBLINGHIS EYES DOWNCASTBEGINS TO BESTOW HIS PARCELS
IN HIS FILLED POCKETS BUT DESISTSMUTTERING.)


A VOICE: (SHARPLY) Poldy!


BLOOM: Who? (HE DUCKS AND WARDS OFF A BLOW CLUMSILY) At your service.


(HE LOOKS UP. BESIDE HER MIRAGE OF DATEPALMS A HANDSOME WOMAN
IN TURKISH COSTUME STANDS BEFORE HIM. OPULENT CURVES FILL OUT HER
SCARLET TROUSERS AND JACKETSLASHED WITH GOLD. A WIDE YELLOW
CUMMERBUND GIRDLES HER. A WHITE YASHMAKVIOLET IN THE NIGHT
COVERS HER FACELEAVING FREE ONLY HER LARGE DARK EYES AND RAVEN
HAIR.)


BLOOM: Molly!


MARION: Welly? Mrs Marion from this outmy dear manwhen you speak to me.
(SATIRICALLY) Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long?


BLOOM: (SHIFTS FROM FOOT TO FOOT) Nono. Not the least little bit.


(HE BREATHES IN DEEP AGITATIONSWALLOWING GULPS OF AIRQUESTIONS
HOPESCRUBEENS FOR HER SUPPERTHINGS TO TELL HEREXCUSEDESIRE
SPELLBOUND. A COIN GLEAMS ON HER FOREHEAD. ON HER FEET ARE JEWELLED
TOERINGS. HER ANKLES ARE LINKED BY A SLENDER FETTERCHAIN. BESIDE HER A
CAMELHOODED WITH A TURRETING TURBANWAITS. A SILK LADDER OF
INNUMERABLE RUNGS CLIMBS TO HIS BOBBING HOWDAH. HE AMBLES NEAR
WITH DISGRUNTLED HINDQUARTERS. FIERCELY SHE SLAPS HIS HAUNCHHER
GOLDCURB WRISTBANGLES ANGRILINGSCOLDING HIM IN MOORISH.)


MARION: Nebrakada! Femininum!


(THE CAMELLIFTING A FORELEGPLUCKS FROM A TREE A LARGE MANGO FRUIT
OFFERS IT TO HIS MISTRESSBLINKINGIN HIS CLOVEN HOOFTHEN DROOPS HIS
HEAD ANDGRUNTINGWITH UPLIFTED NECKFUMBLES TO KNEEL. BLOOM
STOOPS HIS BACK FOR LEAPFROG.)


BLOOM: I can give you ... I mean as your business menagerer ... Mrs
Marion ... if you ...


MARION: So you notice some change? (HER HANDS PASSING SLOWLY OVER HER
TRINKETED STOMACHERA SLOW FRIENDLY MOCKERY IN HER EYES) O PoldyPoldy
you are a poor old stick in the mud! Go and see life. See the wide world.


BLOOM: I was just going back for that lotion whitewaxorangeflower water.
Shop closes early on Thursday. But the first thing in the morning. (HE PATS
DIVERS POCKETS) This moving kidney. Ah!


(HE POINTS TO THE SOUTHTHEN TO THE EAST. A CAKE OF NEW CLEAN LEMON
SOAP ARISESDIFFUSING LIGHT AND PERFUME.)


THE SOAP:


We're a capital couple are Bloom and I.
He brightens the earth. I polish the sky.



(THE FRECKLED FACE OF SWENYTHE DRUGGISTAPPEARS IN THE DISC OF THE
SOAPSUN.)


SWENY: Three and a pennyplease.


BLOOM: Yes. For my wife. Mrs Marion. Special recipe.


MARION: (SOFTLY) Poldy!


BLOOM: Yesma'am?


MARION: TI TREMA UN POCO IL CUORE?


(IN DISDAIN SHE SAUNTERS AWAYPLUMP AS A PAMPERED POUTER PIGEON
HUMMING THE DUET FROM Don Giovanni.)


BLOOM: Are you sure about that VOGLIO? I mean the pronunciati ...


(HE FOLLOWSFOLLOWED BY THE SNIFFING TERRIER. THE ELDERLY BAWD
SEIZES HIS SLEEVETHE BRISTLES OF HER CHINMOLE GLITTERING.)


THE BAWD: Ten shillings a maidenhead. Fresh thing was never touched.
Fifteen. There's no-one in it only her old father that's dead drunk.


(SHE POINTS. IN THE GAP OF HER DARK DEN FURTIVERAINBEDRAGGLED
BRIDIE KELLY STANDS.)


BRIDIE: Hatch street. Any good in your mind?


(WITH A SQUEAK SHE FLAPS HER BAT SHAWL AND RUNS. A BURLY ROUGH
PURSUES WITH BOOTED STRIDES. HE STUMBLES ON THE STEPSRECOVERS
PLUNGES INTO GLOOM. WEAK SQUEAKS OF LAUGHTER ARE HEARDWEAKER.)


THE BAWD: (HER WOLFEYES SHINING) He's getting his pleasure. You won't get
a virgin in the flash houses. Ten shillings. Don't be all night before the
polis in plain clothes sees us. Sixtyseven is a bitch.


(LEERINGGERTY MACDOWELL LIMPS FORWARD. SHE DRAWS FROM BEHIND
OGLINGAND SHOWS COYLY HER BLOODIED CLOUT.)


GERTY: With all my worldly goods I thee and thou. (SHE MURMURS) You did
that. I hate you.


BLOOM: I? When? You're dreaming. I never saw you.


THE BAWD: Leave the gentleman aloneyou cheat. Writing the gentleman
false letters. Streetwalking and soliciting. Better for your mother take
the strap to you at the bedposthussy like you.


GERTY: (TO BLOOM) When you saw all the secrets of my bottom drawer.
(SHE PAWS HIS SLEEVESLOBBERING) Dirty married man! I love you for doing
that to me.


(SHE GLIDES AWAY CROOKEDLY. MRS BREEN IN MAN'S FRIEZE OVERCOAT
WITH LOOSE BELLOWS POCKETSSTANDS IN THE CAUSEWAYHER ROGUISH EYES
WIDEOPENSMILING IN ALL HER HERBIVOROUS BUCKTEETH.)


MRS BREEN: Mr ...


BLOOM: (COUGHS GRAVELY) Madamwhen we last had this pleasure by letter
dated the sixteenth instant ...


MRS BREEN: Mr Bloom! You down here in the haunts of sin! I caught you
nicely! Scamp!



BLOOM: (HURRIEDLY) Not so loud my name. Whatever do you think of me? Don't
give me away. Walls have ears. How do you do? It's ages since I. You're
looking splendid. Absolutely it. Seasonable weather we are having this
time of year. Black refracts heat. Short cut home here. Interesting
quarter. Rescue of fallen women. Magdalen asylum. I am the secretary ...


MRS BREEN: (HOLDS UP A FINGER) Nowdon't tell a big fib! I know somebody
won't like that. O just wait till I see Molly! (SLILY) Account for
yourself this very sminute or woe betide you!


BLOOM: (LOOKS BEHIND) She often said she'd like to visit. Slumming.
The exoticyou see. Negro servants in livery too if she had money.
Othello black brute. Eugene Stratton. Even the bones and cornerman at the
Livermore christies. Bohee brothers. Sweep for that matter.


(TOM AND SAM BOHEECOLOURED COONS IN WHITE DUCK SUITSSCARLET
SOCKSUPSTARCHED SAMBO CHOKERS AND LARGE SCARLET ASTERS IN THEIR
BUTTONHOLESLEAP OUT. EACH HAS HIS BANJO SLUNG. THEIR PALER SMALLER
NEGROID HANDS JINGLE THE TWINGTWANG WIRES. FLASHING WHITE KAFFIR
EYES AND TUSKS THEY RATTLE THROUGH A BREAKDOWN IN CLUMSY CLOGS
TWINGINGSINGINGBACK TO BACKTOE HEELHEEL TOEWITH
SMACKFATCLACKING NIGGER LIPS.)


TOM AND SAM:


There's someone in the house with Dina
There's someone in the houseI know
There's someone in the house with Dina
Playing on the old banjo.


(THEY WHISK BLACK MASKS FROM RAW BABBY FACES: THENCHUCKLING
CHORTLINGTRUMMINGTWANGINGTHEY DIDDLE DIDDLE CAKEWALK DANCE
AWAY.)


BLOOM: (WITH A SOUR TENDERISH SMILE) A little frivolshall weif you are so
inclined? Would you like me perhaps to embrace you just for a fraction
of a second?


MRS BREEN: (SCREAMS GAILY) Oyou ruck! You ought to see yourself!


BLOOM: For old sake' sake. I only meant a square partya mixed marriage
mingling of our different little conjugials. You know I had a soft corner
for you. (GLOOMILY) 'Twas I sent you that valentine of the dear gazelle.


MRS BREEN: Glory Aliceyou do look a holy show! Killing simply.
(SHE PUTS OUT HER HAND INQUISITIVELY) What are you hiding behind your
back? Tell usthere's a dear.


BLOOM: (SEIZES HER WRIST WITH HIS FREE HAND) Josie Powell that was
prettiest deb in Dublin. How time flies by! Do you rememberharking back
in a retrospective arrangementOld Christmas nightGeorgina Simpson's
housewarming while they were playing the Irving Bishop gamefinding the
pin blindfold and thoughtreading? Subjectwhat is in this snuffbox?


MRS BREEN: You were the lion of the night with your seriocomic recitation
and you looked the part. You were always a favourite with the ladies.


BLOOM: (SQUIRE OF DAMESIN DINNER JACKET WITH WATEREDSILK FACINGSBLUE
MASONIC BADGE IN HIS BUTTONHOLEBLACK BOW AND MOTHER-OF-PEARL STUDS
A PRISMATIC CHAMPAGNE GLASS TILTED IN HIS HAND) Ladies and gentlemen
I give you Irelandhome and beauty.



MRS BREEN: The dear dead days beyond recall. Love's old sweet song.

BLOOM: (MEANINGFULLY DROPPING HIS VOICE) I confess I'm teapot with
curiosity to find out whether some person's something is a little teapot
at present.

MRS BREEN: (GUSHINGLY) Tremendously teapot! London's teapot and I'm simply
teapot all over me! (SHE RUBS SIDES WITH HIM) After the parlour mystery
games and the crackers from the tree we sat on the staircase ottoman.
Under the mistletoe. Two is company.

BLOOM: (WEARING A PURPLE NAPOLEON HAT WITH AN AMBER HALFMOONHIS FINGERS
AND THUMB PASSING SLOWLY DOWN TO HER SOFT MOIST MEATY PALM WHICH SHE
SURRENDERS GENTLY) The witching hour of night. I took the splinter out of
this handcarefullyslowly. (TENDERLYAS HE SLIPS ON HER FINGER A RUBY
RING) LA CI DAREM LA MANO.

MRS BREEN: (IN A ONEPIECE EVENING FROCK EXECUTED IN MOONLIGHT BLUEA
TINSEL SYLPH'S DIADEM ON HER BROW WITH HER DANCECARD FALLEN BESIDE HER
MOONBLUE SATIN SLIPPERCURVES HER PALM SOFTLYBREATHING QUICKLY) VOGLIO
E NON. You're hot! You're scalding! The left hand nearest the heart.

BLOOM: When you made your present choice they said it was beauty and the
beast. I can never forgive you for that. (HIS CLENCHED FIST AT HIS BROW)
Think what it means. All you meant to me then. (HOARSELY) Womanit's
breaking me!

(DENIS BREENWHITETALLHATTEDWITH WISDOM HELY'S SANDWICHBOARDS
SHUFFLES PAST THEM IN CARPET SLIPPERSHIS DULL BEARD
THRUST OUTMUTTERING TO RIGHT AND LEFT. LITTLE ALF BERGANCLOAKED IN
THE PALL OF THE ACE OF SPADESDOGS HIM TO LEFT AND RIGHTDOUBLED IN
LAUGHTER.)

ALF BERGAN: (POINTS JEERING AT THE SANDWICHBOARDS) U. p: Up.

MRS BREEN: (TO BLOOM) High jinks below stairs. (SHE GIVES HIM THE GLAD EYE)
Why didn't you kiss the spot to make it well? You wanted to.

BLOOM: (SHOCKED) Molly's best friend! Could you?

MRS BREEN: (HER PULPY TONGUE BETWEEN HER LIPSOFFERS A PIGEON KISS) Hnhn.
The answer is a lemon. Have you a little present for me there?

BLOOM: (OFFHANDEDLY) Kosher. A snack for supper. The home without potted
meat is incomplete. I was at LEAH. Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Trenchant exponent
of Shakespeare. Unfortunately threw away the programme. Rattling good
place round there for pigs' feet. Feel.

(RICHIE GOULDINGTHREE LADIES' HATS PINNED ON HIS HEADAPPEARS
WEIGHTED TO ONE SIDE BY THE BLACK LEGAL BAG OF COLLIS AND WARD ON
WHICH A SKULL AND CROSSBONES ARE PAINTED IN WHITE LIMEWASH. HE
OPENS IT AND SHOWS IT FULL OF POLONIESKIPPERED HERRINGSFINDON
HADDIES AND TIGHTPACKED PILLS.)

RICHIE: Best value in Dub.

(BALD PATBOTHERED BEETLESTANDS ON THE CURBSTONEFOLDING HIS
NAPKINWAITING TO WAIT.)

PAT: (ADVANCES WITH A TILTED DISH OF SPILLSPILLING GRAVY) Steak and
kidney. Bottle of lager. Hee hee hee. Wait till I wait.

RICHIE: Goodgod. Inev erate inall ...


(WITH HANGING HEAD HE MARCHES DOGGEDLY FORWARD. THE NAVVY
LURCHING BYGORES HIM WITH HIS FLAMING PRONGHORN.)


RICHIE: (WITH A CRY OF PAINHIS HAND TO HIS BACK) Ah! Bright's! Lights!


BLOOM: (POINTS TO THE NAVVY) A spy. Don't attract attention. I hate stupid
crowds. I am not on pleasure bent. I am in a grave predicament.


MRS BREEN: Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and
bull story.


BLOOM: I want to tell you a little secret about how I came to be here.
But you must never tell. Not even Molly. I have a most particular reason.


MRS BREEN: (ALL AGOG) Onot for worlds.


BLOOM: Let's walk on. Shall us?


MRS BREEN: Let's.


(THE BAWD MAKES AN UNHEEDED SIGN. BLOOM WALKS ON WITH MRS
BREEN. THE TERRIER FOLLOWSWHINING PITEOUSLYWAGGING HIS TAIL.)


THE BAWD: Jewman's melt!


BLOOM: (IN AN OATMEAL SPORTING SUITA SPRIG OF WOODBINE IN THE LAPEL
TONY BUFF SHIRTSHEPHERD'S PLAID SAINT ANDREW'S CROSS SCARFTIEWHITE
SPATSFAWN DUSTCOAT ON HIS ARMTAWNY RED BROGUESFIELDGLASSES IN
BANDOLIER AND A GREY BILLYCOCK HAT) Do you remember a long long time
years and years agojust after MillyMarionette we called herwas
weaned when we all went together to Fairyhouse raceswas it?


MRS BREEN: (IN SMART SAXE TAILORMADEWHITE VELOURS HAT AND SPIDER VEIL)
Leopardstown.


BLOOM: I meanLeopardstown. And Molly won seven shillings on a three year
old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that old
fiveseater shanderadan of a waggonette you were in your heyday then and
you had on that new hat of white velours with a surround of molefur that
Mrs Hayes advised you to buy because it was marked down to nineteen and
elevena bit of wire and an old rag of velveteenand I'll lay you what
you like she did it on purpose ...


MRS BREEN: She didof coursethe cat! Don't tell me! Nice adviser!


BLOOM: Because it didn't suit you one quarter as well as the other ducky
little tammy toque with the bird of paradise wing in it that I admired on
you and you honestly looked just too fetching in it though it was a pity
to kill ityou cruel naughty creaturelittle mite of a thing with a
heart the size of a fullstop.


MRS BREEN: (SQUEEZES HIS ARMSIMPERS) Naughty cruel I was!


BLOOM: (LOWSECRETLYEVER MORE RAPIDLY) And Molly was eating a sandwich of
spiced beef out of Mrs Joe Gallaher's lunch basket. Franklythough she
had her advisers or admirersI never cared much for her style.
She was ...


MRS BREEN: Too ...


BLOOM: Yes. And Molly was laughing because Rogers and Maggot O'Reilly were
mimicking a cock as we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Mosesthe
tea merchantdrove past us in a gig with his daughterDancer Moses was



her nameand the poodle in her lap bridled up and you asked me if I ever
heard or read or knew or came across ...

MRS BREEN: (EAGERLY) Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes.

(SHE FADES FROM HIS SIDE. FOLLOWED BY THE WHINING DOG HE WALKS ON
TOWARDS HELLSGATES. IN AN ARCHWAY A STANDING WOMANBENT FORWARD
HER FEET APARTPISSES COWILY. OUTSIDE A SHUTTERED PUB A BUNCH OF
LOITERERS LISTEN TO A TALE WHICH THEIR BROKENSNOUTED GAFFER RASPS OUT
WITH RAUCOUS HUMOUR. AN ARMLESS PAIR OF THEM FLOP WRESTLING
GROWLINGIN MAIMED SODDEN PLAYFIGHT.)

THE GAFFER: (CROUCHESHIS VOICE TWISTED IN HIS SNOUT) And when Cairns
came down from the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he after doing
it into only into the bucket of porter that was there waiting on the
shavings for Derwan's plasterers.

THE LOITERERS: (GUFFAW WITH CLEFT PALATES) O jays!

(THEIR PAINTSPECKLED HATS WAG. SPATTERED WITH SIZE AND LIME OF THEIR
LODGES THEY FRISK LIMBLESSLY ABOUT HIM.)

BLOOM: Coincidence too. They think it funny. Anything but that. Broad
daylight. Trying to walk. Lucky no woman.

THE LOITERERS: Jaysthat's a good one. Glauber salts. O jaysinto the
men's porter.

(BLOOM PASSES. CHEAP WHORESSINGLYCOUPLEDSHAWLEDDISHEVELLED
CALL FROM LANESDOORSCORNERS.)

THE WHORES:

Are you going farqueer fellow?

How's your middle leg?

Got a match on you?

Ehcome here till I stiffen it for you.

(HE PLODGES THROUGH THEIR SUMP TOWARDS THE LIGHTED STREET BEYOND.
FROM A BULGE OF WINDOW CURTAINS A GRAMOPHONE REARS A BATTERED
BRAZEN TRUNK. IN THE SHADOW A SHEBEENKEEPER HAGGLES WITH THE
NAVVY AND THE TWO REDCOATS.)

THE NAVVY: (BELCHING) Where's the bloody house?

THE SHEBEENKEEPER: Purdon street. Shilling a bottle of stout. Respectable
woman.

THE NAVVY: (GRIPPING THE TWO REDCOATSSTAGGERS FORWARD WITH THEM)
Come onyou British army!

PRIVATE CARR: (BEHIND HIS BACK) He aint half balmy.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (LAUGHS) What ho!

PRIVATE CARR: (TO THE NAVVY) Portobello barracks canteen. You ask for
Carr. Just Carr.

THE NAVVY: (SHOUTS)

We are the boys. Of Wexford.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Say! What price the sergeantmajor?


PRIVATE CARR: Bennett? He's my pal. I love old Bennett.

THE NAVVY: (SHOUTS)

The galling chain.

And free our native land.

(HE STAGGERS FORWARDDRAGGING THEM WITH HIM. BLOOM STOPSAT
FAULT. THE DOG APPROACHESHIS TONGUE OUTLOLLINGPANTING)

BLOOM: Wildgoose chase this. Disorderly houses. Lord knows where they are
gone. Drunks cover distance double quick. Nice mixup. Scene at Westland
row. Then jump in first class with third ticket. Then too far. Train with
engine behind. Might have taken me to Malahide or a siding for the night
or collision. Second drink does it. Once is a dose. What am I following
him for? Stillhe's the best of that lot. If I hadn't heard about
Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have met. Kismet.
He'll lose that cash. Relieving office here. Good biz for cheapjacks
organs. What do ye lack? Soon gotsoon gone. Might have lost my
life too with that mangongwheeltracktrolleyglarejuggernaut only
for presence of mind. Can't always save youthough. If I had passed
Truelock's window that day two minutes later would have been shot.
Absence of body. Still if bullet only went through my coat get
damages for shockfive hundred pounds. What was he? Kildare street
club toff. God help his gamekeeper.

(HE GAZES AHEADREADING ON THE WALL A SCRAWLED CHALK LEGEND Wet Dream
AND A PHALLIC DESIGN.) Odd! Molly drawing on the frosted carriagepane at
Kingstown. What's that like? (GAUDY DOLLWOMEN LOLL IN THE LIGHTED
DOORWAYSIN WINDOW EMBRASURESSMOKING BIRDSEYE CIGARETTES. THE ODOUR
OF THE SICKSWEET WEED FLOATS TOWARDS HIM IN SLOW ROUND OVALLING WREATHS.)

THE WREATHS: Sweet are the sweets. Sweets of sin.

BLOOM: My spine's a bit limp. Go or turn? And this food? Eat it and get
all pigsticky. Absurd I am. Waste of money. One and eightpence too much.
(THE RETRIEVER DRIVES A COLD SNIVELLING MUZZLE AGAINST HIS HANDWAGGING
HIS TAIL.) Strange how they take to me. Even that brute today. Better
speak to him first. Like women they like RENCONTRES. Stinks like a
polecat. CHACUN SON GOUT. He might be mad. Dogdays. Uncertain in his
movements. Good fellow! Fido! Good fellow! Garryowen! (THE WOLFDOG SPRAWLS
ON HIS BACKWRIGGLING OBSCENELY WITH BEGGING PAWSHIS LONG BLACK TONGUE
LOLLING OUT.) Influence of his surroundings. Give and have done with it.
Provided nobody. (CALLING ENCOURAGING WORDS HE SHAMBLES BACK WITH A
FURTIVE POACHER'S TREADDOGGED BY THE SETTER INTO A DARK STALESTUNK
CORNER. HE UNROLLS ONE PARCEL AND GOES TO DUMP THE CRUBEEN SOFTLY BUT
HOLDS BACK AND FEELS THE TROTTER.) Sizeable for threepence. But then I
have it in my left hand. Calls for more effort. Why? Smaller from want
of use. Olet it slide. Two and six.

(WITH REGRET HE LETS THE UNROLLED CRUBEEN AND TROTTER SLIDE. THE
MASTIFF MAULS THE BUNDLE CLUMSILY AND GLUTS HIMSELF WITH GROWLING
GREEDCRUNCHING THE BONES. TWO RAINCAPED WATCH APPROACHSILENT
VIGILANT. THEY MURMUR TOGETHER.)

THE WATCH: Bloom. Of Bloom. For Bloom. Bloom.

(EACH LAYS HAND ON BLOOM'S SHOULDER.)

FIRST WATCH: Caught in the act. Commit no nuisance.

BLOOM: (STAMMERS) I am doing good to others.

(A COVEY OF GULLSSTORM PETRELSRISES HUNGRILY FROM LIFFEY SLIME


WITH BANBURY CAKES IN THEIR BEAKS.)

THE GULLS: Kaw kave kankury kake.

BLOOM: The friend of man. Trained by kindness.

(HE POINTS. BOB DORANTOPPLING FROM A HIGH BARSTOOLSWAYS OVER
THE MUNCHING SPANIEL.)

BOB DORAN: Towser. Give us the paw. Give the paw.

(THE BULLDOG GROWLSHIS SCRUFF STANDINGA GOBBET OF PIG'S KNUCKLE
BETWEEN HIS MOLARS THROUGH WHICH RABID SCUMSPITTLE DRIBBLES. BOB
DORAN FILLS SILENTLY INTO AN AREA.)

SECOND WATCH: Prevention of cruelty to animals.

BLOOM: (ENTHUSIASTICALLY) A noble work! I scolded that tramdriver on
Harold's cross bridge for illusing the poor horse with his harness scab.
Bad French I got for my pains. Of course it was frosty and the last tram.
All tales of circus life are highly demoralising.

(SIGNOR MAFFEIPASSIONPALEIN LIONTAMER'S COSTUME WITH DIAMOND
STUDS IN HIS SHIRTFRONTSTEPS FORWARDHOLDING A CIRCUS PAPERHOOPA
CURLING CARRIAGEWHIP AND A REVOLVER WITH WHICH HE COVERS THE
GORGING BOARHOUND.)

SIGNOR MAFFEI: (WITH A SINISTER SMILE) Ladies and gentlemenmy educated
greyhound. It was I broke in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent
spiked saddle for carnivores. Lash under the belly with a knotted thong.
Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your lion to heelno
matter how fractiouseven LEO FEROX therethe Libyan maneater. A redhot
crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the burning part produced Fritz of
Amsterdamthe thinking hyena. (HE GLARES) I possess the Indian sign.
The glint of my eye does it with these breastsparklers. (WITH A BEWITCHING
SMILE) I now introduce Mademoiselle Rubythe pride of the ring.

FIRST WATCH: Come. Name and address.

BLOOM: I have forgotten for the moment. Ahyes! (HE TAKES OFF HIS HIGH
GRADE HATSALUTING) Dr BloomLeopolddental surgeon. You have heard of
von Blum Pasha. Umpteen millions. DONNERWETTER! Owns half Austria. Egypt.
Cousin.

FIRST WATCH: Proof.

(A CARD FALLS FROM INSIDE THE LEATHER HEADBAND OF BLOOM'S HAT.)

BLOOM: (IN RED FEZCADI'S DRESS COAT WITH BROAD GREEN SASHWEARING A
FALSE BADGE OF THE LEGION OF HONOURPICKS UP THE CARD HASTILY AND OFFERS
IT) Allow me. My club is the Junior Army and Navy. Solicitors: Messrs John
Henry Menton27 Bachelor's Walk.

FIRST WATCH: (READS) Henry Flower. No fixed abode. Unlawfully watching and
besetting.

SECOND WATCH: An alibi. You are cautioned.

BLOOM: (PRODUCES FROM HIS HEARTPOCKET A CRUMPLED YELLOW FLOWER) This is the
flower in question. It was given me by a man I don't know his name.
(PLAUSIBLY) You know that old jokerose of Castile. Bloom. The change of
name. Virag. (HE MURMURS PRIVATELY AND CONFIDENTIALLY) We are engaged
you seesergeant. Lady in the case. Love entanglement. (HE SHOULDERS THE
SECOND WATCH GENTLY) Dash it all. It's a way we gallants have in the navy.


Uniform that does it. (HE TURNS GRAVELY TO THE FIRST WATCH) Stillof
courseyou do get your Waterloo sometimes. Drop in some evening and have
a glass of old Burgundy. (TO THE SECOND WATCH GAILY) I'll introduce you
inspector. She's game. Do it in the shake of a lamb's tail.

(A DARK MERCURIALISED FACE APPEARSLEADING A VEILED FIGURE.)

THE DARK MERCURY: The Castle is looking for him. He was drummed out of
the army.

MARTHA: (THICKVEILEDA CRIMSON HALTER ROUND HER NECKA COPY OF THE
Irish Times IN HER HANDIN TONE OF REPROACHPOINTING) Henry! Leopold!
Lionelthou lost one! Clear my name.

FIRST WATCH: (STERNLY) Come to the station.

BLOOM: (SCAREDHATS HIMSELFSTEPS BACKTHENPLUCKING AT HIS HEART AND
LIFTING HIS RIGHT FOREARM ON THE SQUAREHE GIVES THE SIGN AND DUEGUARD OF
FELLOWCRAFT) Nonoworshipful masterlight of love. Mistaken identity.
The Lyons mail. Lesurques and Dubosc. You remember the Childs fratricide
case. We medical men. By striking him dead with a hatchet. I am wrongfully
accused. Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned.

MARTHA: (SOBBING BEHIND HER VEIL) Breach of promise. My real name is Peggy
Griffin. He wrote to me that he was miserable. I'll tell my brotherthe
Bective rugger fullbackon youheartless flirt.

BLOOM: (BEHIND HIS HAND) She's drunk. The woman is inebriated. (HE MURMURS
VAGUELY THE PASS OF EPHRAIM) Shitbroleeth.

SECOND WATCH: (TEARS IN HIS EYESTO BLOOM) You ought to be thoroughly
well ashamed of yourself.

BLOOM: Gentlemen of the jurylet me explain. A pure mare's nest. I am a
man misunderstood. I am being made a scapegoat of. I am a respectable
married manwithout a stain on my character. I live in Eccles street.
My wifeI am the daughter of a most distinguished commandera gallant
upstanding gentlemanwhat do you call himMajorgeneral Brian Tweedy
one of Britain's fighting men who helped to win our battles. Got his
majority for the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift.

FIRST WATCH: Regiment.

BLOOM: (TURNS TO THE GALLERY) The royal Dublinsboysthe salt of the
earthknown the world over. I think I see some old comrades in arms up
there among you. The R. D. F.with our own Metropolitan policeguardians
of our homesthe pluckiest lads and the finest body of menas physique
in the service of our sovereign.

A VOICE: Turncoat! Up the Boers! Who booed Joe Chamberlain?

BLOOM: (HIS HAND ON THE SHOULDER OF THE FIRST WATCH) My old dad too was a

J. P. I'm as staunch a Britisher as you aresir. I fought with the
colours for king and country in the absentminded war under general Gough
in the park and was disabled at Spion Kop and Bloemfonteinwas mentioned
in dispatches. I did all a white man could. (WITH QUIET FEELING) Jim
Bludso. Hold her nozzle again the bank.
FIRST WATCH: Profession or trade.

BLOOM: WellI follow a literary occupationauthor-journalist. In fact we
are just bringing out a collection of prize stories of which I am the
inventorsomething that is an entirely new departure. I am connected
with the British and Irish press. If you ring up ...


(MYLES CRAWFORD STRIDES OUT JERKILYA QUILL BETWEEN HIS TEETH. HIS
SCARLET BEAK BLAZES WITHIN THE AUREOLE OF HIS STRAW HAT. HE DANGLES A
HANK OF SPANISH ONIONS IN ONE HAND AND HOLDS WITH THE OTHER HAND
A TELEPHONE RECEIVER NOZZLE TO HIS EAR.)

MYLES CRAWFORD: (HIS COCK'S WATTLES WAGGING) Helloseventyseven
eightfour. Hello. FREEMAN'S URINAL and WEEKLY ARSEWIPE here. Paralyse
Europe. You which? Bluebags? Who writes? Is it Bloom?

(MR PHILIP BEAUFOYPALEFACEDSTANDS IN THE WITNESSBOXIN ACCURATE
MORNING DRESSOUTBREAST POCKET WITH PEAK OF HANDKERCHIEF
SHOWINGCREASED LAVENDER TROUSERS AND PATENT BOOTS. HE CARRIES A
LARGE PORTFOLIO LABELLED Matcham's Masterstrokes.)

BEAUFOY: (DRAWLS) Noyou aren't. Not by a long shot if I know it. I don't
see it that's all. No born gentlemanno-one with the most rudimentary
promptings of a gentleman would stoop to such particularly loathsome
conduct. One of thosemy lord. A plagiarist. A soapy sneak masquerading
as a litterateur. It's perfectly obvious that with the most inherent
baseness he has cribbed some of my bestselling copyreally gorgeous
stuffa perfect gemthe love passages in which are beneath suspicion.
The Beaufoy books of love and great possessionswith which your lordship
is doubtless familiarare a household word throughout the kingdom.

BLOOM: (MURMURS WITH HANGDOG MEEKNESS GLUM) That bit about the laughing
witch hand in hand I take exception toif I may ...

BEAUFOY: (HIS LIP UPCURLEDSMILES SUPERCILIOUSLY ON THE COURT) You funny
assyou! You're too beastly awfully weird for words! I don't think you
need over excessively disincommodate yourself in that regard. My literary
agent Mr J. B. Pinker is in attendance. I presumemy lordwe shall
receive the usual witnesses' feesshan't we? We are considerably out of
pocket over this bally pressman johnnythis jackdaw of Rheimswho has
not even been to a university.

BLOOM: (INDISTINCTLY) University of life. Bad art.

BEAUFOY: (SHOUTS) It's a damnably foul lieshowing the moral rottenness
of the man! (HE EXTENDS HIS PORTFOLIO) We have here damning evidencethe
CORPUS DELICTImy lorda specimen of my maturer work disfigured by the
hallmark of the beast.

A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY:

MosesMosesking of the jews

Wiped his arse in the Daily News.

BLOOM: (BRAVELY) Overdrawn.

BEAUFOY: You low cad! You ought to be ducked in the horsepondyou rotter!
(TO THE COURT) Whylook at the man's private life! Leading a quadruple
existence! Street angel and house devil. Not fit to be mentioned in mixed
society! The archconspirator of the age!

BLOOM: (TO THE COURT) And hea bachelorhow ...

FIRST WATCH: The King versus Bloom. Call the woman Driscoll.

THE CRIER: Mary Driscollscullerymaid!

(MARY DRISCOLLA SLIPSHOD SERVANT GIRLAPPROACHES. SHE HAS A
BUCKET ON THE CROOK OF HER ARM AND A SCOURINGBRUSH IN HER HAND.)


SECOND WATCH: Another! Are you of the unfortunate class?

MARY DRISCOLL: (INDIGNANTLY) I'm not a bad one. I bear a respectable
character and was four months in my last place. I was in a situation
six pounds a year and my chances with Fridays out and I had to leave owing
to his carryings on.

FIRST WATCH: What do you tax him with?

MARY DRISCOLL: He made a certain suggestion but I thought more of myself
as poor as I am.

BLOOM: (IN HOUSEJACKET OF RIPPLECLOTHFLANNEL TROUSERSHEELLESS SLIPPERS
UNSHAVENHIS HAIR RUMPLED: SOFTLY) I treated you white. I gave you
mementossmart emerald garters far above your station. Incautiously I
took your part when you were accused of pilfering. There's a medium in all
things. Play cricket.

MARY DRISCOLL: (EXCITEDLY) As God is looking down on me this night if ever
I laid a hand to them oysters!

FIRST WATCH: The offence complained of? Did something happen?

MARY DRISCOLL: He surprised me in the rere of the premisesYour honour
when the missus was out shopping one morning with a request for a safety pin.
He held me and I was discoloured in four places as a result. And he
interfered twict with my clothing.

BLOOM: She counterassaulted.

MARY DRISCOLL: (SCORNFULLY) I had more respect for the scouringbrushso I
had. I remonstrated with himYour lordand he remarked: keep it quiet.

(GENERAL LAUGHTER.)

GEORGE FOTTRELL: (CLERK OF THE CROWN AND PEACERESONANTLY) Order in
court! The accused will now make a bogus statement.

(BLOOMPLEADING NOT GUILTY AND HOLDING A FULLBLOWN WATERLILY
BEGINS A LONG UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH. THEY WOULD HEAR WHAT COUNSEL
HAD TO SAY IN HIS STIRRING ADDRESS TO THE GRAND JURY. HE WAS DOWN
AND OUT BUTTHOUGH BRANDED AS A BLACK SHEEPIF HE MIGHT SAY SOHE
MEANT TO REFORMTO RETRIEVE THE MEMORY OF THE PAST IN A PURELY
SISTERLY WAY AND RETURN TO NATURE AS A PURELY DOMESTIC ANIMAL. A
SEVENMONTHS' CHILDHE HAD BEEN CAREFULLY BROUGHT UP AND NURTURED
BY AN AGED BEDRIDDEN PARENT. THERE MIGHT HAVE BEEN LAPSES OF AN
ERRING FATHER BUT HE WANTED TO TURN OVER A NEW LEAF AND NOWWHEN
AT LONG LAST IN SIGHT OF THE WHIPPING POSTTO LEAD A HOMELY LIFE IN THE
EVENING OF HIS DAYSPERMEATED BY THE AFFECTIONATE SURROUNDINGS OF
THE HEAVING BOSOM OF THE FAMILY. AN ACCLIMATISED BRITISHERHE HAD
SEEN THAT SUMMER EVE FROM THE FOOTPLATE OF AN ENGINE CAB OF THE
LOOP LINE RAILWAY COMPANY WHILE THE RAIN REFRAINED FROM FALLING
GLIMPSESAS IT WERETHROUGH THE WINDOWS OF LOVEFUL HOUSEHOLDS IN
DUBLIN CITY AND URBAN DISTRICT OF SCENES TRULY RURAL OF HAPPINESS OF
THE BETTER LAND WITH DOCKRELL'S WALLPAPER AT ONE AND NINEPENCE A
DOZENINNOCENT BRITISHBORN BAIRNS LISPING PRAYERS TO THE SACRED
INFANTYOUTHFUL SCHOLARS GRAPPLING WITH THEIR PENSUMS OR MODEL
YOUNG LADIES PLAYING ON THE PIANOFORTE OR ANON ALL WITH FERVOUR
RECITING THE FAMILY ROSARY ROUND THE CRACKLING YULELOG WHILE IN THE
BOREENS AND GREEN LANES THE COLLEENS WITH THEIR SWAINS STROLLED WHAT
TIMES THE STRAINS OF THE ORGANTONED MELODEON BRITANNIA METALBOUND
WITH FOUR ACTING STOPS AND TWELVEFOLD BELLOWSA SACRIFICEGREATEST
BARGAIN EVER ...


(RENEWED LAUGHTER. HE MUMBLES INCOHERENTLY. REPORTERS COMPLAIN
THAT THEY CANNOT HEAR.)

LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND: (WITHOUT LOOKING UP FROM THEIR NOTEBOOKS)
Loosen his boots.

PROFESSOR MACHUGH: (FROM THE PRESSTABLECOUGHS AND CALLS) Cough it up
man. Get it out in bits.

(THE CROSSEXAMINATION PROCEEDS RE BLOOM AND THE BUCKET. A LARGE
BUCKET. BLOOM HIMSELF. BOWEL TROUBLE. IN BEAVER STREET GRIPEYES.
QUITE BAD. A PLASTERER'S BUCKET. BY WALKING STIFFLEGGED. SUFFERED
UNTOLD MISERY. DEADLY AGONY. ABOUT NOON. LOVE OR BURGUNDY. YES
SOME SPINACH. CRUCIAL MOMENT. HE DID NOT LOOK IN THE BUCKET
NOBODY. RATHER A MESS. NOT COMPLETELY. A Titbits BACK NUMBER.)

(UPROAR AND CATCALLS. BLOOM IN A TORN FROCKCOAT STAINED WITH
WHITEWASHDINGED SILK HAT SIDEWAYS ON HIS HEADA STRIP OF
STICKINGPLASTER ACROSS HIS NOSETALKS INAUDIBLY.)

J. J. O'MOLLOY: (IN BARRISTER'S GREY WIG AND STUFFGOWNSPEAKING WITH A
VOICE OF PAINED PROTEST) This is no place for indecent levity at the
expense of an erring mortal disguised in liquor. We are not in a beargarden
nor at an Oxford rag nor is this a travesty of justice. My client is an
infanta poor foreign immigrant who started scratch as a stowaway and is
now trying to turn an honest penny. The trumped up misdemeanour was due to
a momentary aberration of hereditybrought on by hallucinationsuch
familiarities as the alleged guilty occurrence being quite permitted in my
client's native placethe land of the Pharaoh. PRIMA FACIEI put it to
you that there was no attempt at carnally knowing. Intimacy did not occur
and the offence complained of by Driscollthat her virtue was solicited
was not repeated. I would deal in especial with atavism. There have been
cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my client's family. If the accused
could speak he could a tale unfold--one of the strangest that have ever been
narrated between the covers of a book. He himselfmy lordis a physical
wreck from cobbler's weak chest. His submission is that he is of Mongolian
extraction and irresponsible for his actions. Not all therein fact.
BLOOM: (BAREFOOTPIGEONBREASTEDIN LASCAR'S VEST AND TROUSERSAPOLOGETIC
TOES TURNED INOPENS HIS TINY MOLE'S EYES AND LOOKS ABOUT HIM DAZEDLY
PASSING A SLOW HAND ACROSS HIS FOREHEAD. THEN HE HITCHES HIS BELT SAILOR
FASHION AND WITH A SHRUG OF ORIENTAL OBEISANCE SALUTES THE COURTPOINTING
ONE THUMB HEAVENWARD.) Him makee velly muchee fine night. (HE BEGINS TO
LILT SIMPLY)

Li li poo lil chile

Blingee pigfoot evly night

Payee two shilly ...

(HE IS HOWLED DOWN.)

J. J. O'MOLLOY: (HOTLY TO THE POPULACE) This is a lonehand fight. By Hades
I will not have any client of mine gagged and badgered in this fashion by
a pack of curs and laughing hyenas. The Mosaic code has superseded the law
of the jungle. I say it and I say it emphaticallywithout wishing for one
moment to defeat the ends of justiceaccused was not accessory before the
act and prosecutrix has not been tampered with. The young person was treated
by defendant as if she were his very own daughter. (BLOOM TAKES J. J.
O'MOLLOY'S HAND AND RAISES IT TO HIS LIPS.) I shall call rebutting evidence
to prove up to the hilt that the hidden hand is again at its old game.
When in doubt persecute Bloom. My clientan innately bashful manwould
be the last man in the world to do anything ungentlemanly which injured
modesty could object to or cast a stone at a girl who took the wrong

turning when some dastardresponsible for her conditionhad worked his
own sweet will on her. He wants to go straight. I regard him as the
whitest man I know. He is down on his luck at present owing to the
mortgaging of his extensive property at Agendath Netaim in faraway Asia
Minorslides of which will now be shown. (TO BLOOM) I suggest that you
will do the handsome thing.

BLOOM: A penny in the pound.

(THE IMAGE OF THE LAKE OF KINNERETH WITH BLURRED CATTLE CROPPING IN
SILVER HAZE IS PROJECTED ON THE WALL. MOSES DLUGACZFERRETEYED
ALBINOIN BLUE DUNGAREESSTANDS UP IN THE GALLERYHOLDING IN EACH
HAND AN ORANGE CITRON AND A PORK KIDNEY.)

DLUGACZ: (HOARSELY) BleibtreustrasseBerlinW.13.

(J. J. O'MOLLOY STEPS ON TO A LOW PLINTH AND HOLDS THE LAPEL OF HIS
COAT WITH SOLEMNITY. HIS FACE LENGTHENSGROWS PALE AND BEARDED
WITH SUNKEN EYESTHE BLOTCHES OF PHTHISIS AND HECTIC CHEEKBONES OF
JOHN F. TAYLOR. HE APPLIES HIS HANDKERCHIEF TO HIS MOUTH AND
SCRUTINISES THE GALLOPING TIDE OF ROSEPINK BLOOD.)
J.J.O'MOLLOY: (ALMOST VOICELESSLY) Excuse me. I am suffering from a severe
chillhave recently come from a sickbed. A few wellchosen words.
(HE ASSUMES THE AVINE HEADFOXY MOUSTACHE AND PROBOSCIDAL ELOQUENCE OF
SEYMOUR BUSHE.) When the angel's book comes to be opened if aught that
the pensive bosom has inaugurated of soultransfigured and of
soultransfiguring deserves to live I say accord the prisoner at the bar
the sacred benefit of the doubt. (A PAPER WITH SOMETHING WRITTEN ON IT IS
HANDED INTO COURT.)

BLOOM: (IN COURT DRESS) Can give best references. Messrs CallanColeman.
Mr Wisdom Hely J. P. My old chief Joe Cuffe. Mr V. B. Dillonex lord mayor
of Dublin. I have moved in the charmed circle of the highest ... Queens
of Dublin society. (CARELESSLY) I was just chatting this afternoon at the
viceregal lodge to my old palssir Robert and lady Ballastronomer royal
at the levee. Sir BobI said ...

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (IN LOWCORSAGED OPAL BALLDRESS AND ELBOWLENGTH IVORY
GLOVESWEARING A SABLETRIMMED BRICKQUILTED DOLMANA COMB OF BRILLIANTS
AND PANACHE OF OSPREY IN HER HAIR) Arrest himconstable. He wrote me an
anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband was in the North
Riding of Tipperary on the Munster circuitsigned James Lovebirch. He said
that he had seen from the gods my peerless globes as I sat in a box of the
THEATRE ROYAL at a command performance of LA CIGALE. I deeply inflamed him
he said. He made improper overtures to me to misconduct myself at half past
four p.m. on the following ThursdayDunsink time. He offered to send me
through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kockentitled THE
GIRL WITH THE THREE PAIRS OF STAYS.

MRS BELLINGHAM: (IN CAP AND SEAL CONEY MANTLEWRAPPED UP TO THE NOSE
STEPS OUT OF HER BROUGHAM AND SCANS THROUGH TORTOISESHELL QUIZZING-GLASSES
WHICH SHE TAKES FROM INSIDE HER HUGE OPOSSUM MUFF) Also to me. YesI
believe it is the same objectionable person. Because he closed my carriage
door outside sir Thornley Stoker's one sleety day during the cold snap of
February ninetythree when even the grid of the wastepipe and the ballstop
in my bath cistern were frozen. Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss
culled on the heightsas he saidin my honour. I had it examined
by a botanical expert and elicited the information that it was ablossom of
the homegrown potato plant purloined from a forcingcase of the model farm.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Shame on him!

(A CROWD OF SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS SURGES FORWARD)


THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: (SCREAMING) Stop thief! Hurrah there
Bluebeard! Three cheers for Ikey Mo!

SECOND WATCH: (PRODUCES HANDCUFFS) Here are the darbies.

MRS BELLINGHAM: He addressed me in several handwritings with fulsome
compliments as a Venus in furs and alleged profound pity for my frostbound
coachman Palmer while in the same breath he expressed himself as envious of
his earflaps and fleecy sheepskins and of his fortunate proximity to my
personwhen standing behind my chair wearing my livery and the armorial
bearings of the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sablea buck's head
couped or. He lauded almost extravagantly my nether extremitiesmy
swelling calves in silk hose drawn up to the limitand eulogised glowingly
my other hidden treasures in priceless lace whichhe saidhe could conjure
up. He urged me (stating that he felt it his mission in life to urge me) to
defile the marriage bedto commit adultery at the earliest possible
opportunity.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (IN AMAZON COSTUMEHARD HATJACKBOOTS
COCKSPURREDVERMILION WAISTCOATFAWN MUSKETEER GAUNTLETS WITH
BRAIDED DRUMSLONG TRAIN HELD UP AND HUNTING CROP WITH WHICH
SHE STRIKES HER WELT CONSTANTLY) Also me. Because he saw me on
the polo ground of the Phoenix park at the match All Ireland versus
the Rest of Ireland. My eyesI knowshone divinely as I watched
Captain Slogger Dennehy of the Inniskillings win the final chukkar on his
darling cob CENTAUR. This plebeian Don Juan observed me from behind a
hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photographsuch
as are sold after dark on Paris boulevardsinsulting to any lady. I have it
still. It represents a partially nude senoritafrail and lovely (his wife
as he solemnly assured metaken by him from nature)practising illicit
intercourse with a muscular toreroevidently a blackguard. He urged me to
do likewiseto misbehaveto sin with officers of the garrison. He implored
me to soil his letter in an unspeakable mannerto chastise him as he richly
deservesto bestride and ride himto give him a most vicious
horsewhipping.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Me too.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Me too.

(SEVERAL HIGHLY RESPECTABLE DUBLIN LADIES HOLD UP IMPROPER LETTERS
RECEIVED FROM BLOOM.)

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (STAMPS HER JINGLING SPURS IN A SUDDEN
PAROXYSM OF FURY) I willby the God above me. I'll scourge the
pigeonlivered cur as long as I can stand over him. I'll flay him alive.

BLOOM: (HIS EYES CLOSINGQUAILS EXPECTANTLY) Here? (HE SQUIRMS) Again!
(HE PANTS CRINGING) I love the danger.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: Very much so! I'll make it hot for you.
I'll make you dance Jack Latten for that.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Tan his breech wellthe upstart! Write the stars and
stripes on it!

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Disgraceful! There's no excuse for him! A married man!

BLOOM: All these people. I meant only the spanking idea. A warm tingling
glow without effusion. Refined birching to stimulate the circulation.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (LAUGHS DERISIVELY) Odid youmy fine
fellow? Wellby the living Godyou'll get the surprise of your life now


believe methe most unmerciful hiding a man ever bargained for. You have
lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury.

MRS BELLINGHAM: (SHAKES HER MUFF AND QUIZZING-GLASSES VINDICTIVELY) Make
him smartHanna dear. Give him ginger. Thrash the mongrel within an inch
of his life. The cat-o'-nine-tails. Geld him. Vivisect him.

BLOOM: (SHUDDERINGSHRINKINGJOINS HIS HANDS: WITH HANGDOG MIEN) O cold!
O shivery! It was your ambrosial beauty. Forgetforgive. Kismet. Let me off
this once. (HE OFFERS THE OTHER CHEEK)

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (SEVERELY) Don't do so on any accountMrs Talboys!
He should be soundly trounced!

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (UNBUTTONING HER GAUNTLET VIOLENTLY)
I'll do no such thing. Pigdog and always was ever since he was pupped!
To dare address me! I'll flog him black and blue in the public streets.
I'll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. He is a wellknown cuckold.
(SHE SWISHES HER HUNTINGCROP SAVAGELY IN THE AIR) Take down his trousers
without loss of time. Come heresir! Quick! Ready?

BLOOM: (TREMBLINGBEGINNING TO OBEY) The weather has been so warm.

(DAVY STEPHENSRINGLETTEDPASSES WITH A BEVY OF BAREFOOT NEWSBOYS.)

DAVY STEPHENS: MESSENGER OF THE SACRED HEART and EVENING TELEGRAPH with
Saint Patrick's Day supplement. Containing the new addresses of all the
cuckolds in Dublin.

(THE VERY REVEREND CANON O'HANLON IN CLOTH OF GOLD COPE ELEVATES
AND EXPOSES A MARBLE TIMEPIECE. BEFORE HIM FATHER CONROY AND THE
REVEREND JOHN HUGHES S.J. BEND LOW.)

THE TIMEPIECE: (UNPORTALLING)

Cuckoo.
Cuckoo.
Cuckoo.


(THE BRASS QUOITS OF A BED ARE HEARD TO JINGLE.)

THE QUOITS: Jigjag. Jigajiga. Jigjag.

(A PANEL OF FOG ROLLS BACK RAPIDLYREVEALING RAPIDLY IN THE JURYBOX
THE FACES OF MARTIN CUNNINGHAMFOREMANSILKHATTEDJACK POWER
SIMON DEDALUSTOM KERNANNED LAMBERTJOHN HENRY MENTON
MYLES CRAWFORDLENEHANPADDY LEONARDNOSEY FLYNNM'COY
AND THE FEATURELESS FACE OF A NAMELESS ONE.)

THE NAMELESS ONE: Bareback riding. Weight for age. Gobhe organised her.

THE JURORS: (ALL THEIR HEADS TURNED TO HIS VOICE) Really?

THE NAMELESS ONE: (SNARLS) Arse over tip. Hundred shillings to five.

THE JURORS: (ALL THEIR HEADS LOWERED IN ASSENT) Most of us thought as much.

FIRST WATCH: He is a marked man. Another girl's plait cut. Wanted:
Jack the Ripper. A thousand pounds reward.

SECOND WATCH: (AWEDWHISPERS) And in black. A mormon. Anarchist.


THE CRIER: (LOUDLY) Whereas Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a wellknown
dynamitardforgerbigamistbawd and cuckold and a public nuisance to
the citizens of Dublin and whereas at this commission of assizes the most
honourable ...

(HIS HONOURSIR FREDERICK FALKINERRECORDER OF DUBLININ JUDICIAL
GARB OF GREY STONE RISES FROM THE BENCHSTONEBEARDED. HE BEARS IN
HIS ARMS AN UMBRELLA SCEPTRE. FROM HIS FOREHEAD ARISE STARKLY THE
MOSAIC RAMSHORNS.)

THE RECORDER: I will put an end to this white slave traffic and rid Dublin
of this odious pest. Scandalous! (HE DONS THE BLACK CAP) Let him be taken
Mr Subsherifffrom the dock where he now stands and detained in custody
in Mountjoy prison during His Majesty's pleasure and there be hanged by
the neck until he is dead and therein fail not at your peril or may the
Lord have mercy on your soul. Remove him. (A BLACK SKULLCAP DESCENDS UPON
HIS HEAD.)

(THE SUBSHERIFF LONG JOHN FANNING APPEARSSMOKING A PUNGENT HENRY CLAY.)

LONG JOHN FANNING: (SCOWLS AND CALLS WITH RICH ROLLING UTTERANCE) Who'll
hang Judas Iscariot?

(H. RUMBOLDMASTER BARBERIN A BLOODCOLOURED JERKIN AND
TANNER'S APRONA ROPE COILED OVER HIS SHOULDERMOUNTS THE BLOCK. A
LIFE PRESERVER AND A NAILSTUDDED BLUDGEON ARE STUCK IN HIS BELT. HE
RUBS GRIMLY HIS GRAPPLING HANDSKNOBBED WITH KNUCKLEDUSTERS.)
RUMBOLD: (TO THE RECORDER WITH SINISTER FAMILIARITY) Hanging Harryyour
Majestythe Mersey terror. Five guineas a jugular. Neck or nothing.

(THE BELLS OF GEORGE'S CHURCH TOLL SLOWLYLOUD DARK IRON.)

THE BELLS: Heigho! Heigho!

BLOOM: (DESPERATELY) Wait. Stop. Gulls. Good heart. I saw. Innocence. Girl
in the monkeyhouse. Zoo. Lewd chimpanzee. (BREATHLESSLY) Pelvic basin. Her
artless blush unmanned me. (OVERCOME WITH EMOTION) I left the precincts.
(HE TURNS TO A FIGURE IN THE CROWDAPPEALING) Hynesmay I speak to you?
You know me. That three shillings you can keep. If you want a little
more ...

HYNES: (COLDLY) You are a perfect stranger.

SECOND WATCH: (POINTS TO THE CORNER) The bomb is here.

FIRST WATCH: Infernal machine with a time fuse.

BLOOM: Nono. Pig's feet. I was at a funeral.

FIRST WATCH: (DRAWS HIS TRUNCHEON) Liar!

(THE BEAGLE LIFTS HIS SNOUTSHOWING THE GREY SCORBUTIC FACE OF
PADDY DIGNAM. HE HAS GNAWED ALL. HE EXHALES A PUTRID CARCASEFED
BREATH. HE GROWS TO HUMAN SIZE AND SHAPE. HIS DACHSHUND COAT
BECOMES A BROWN MORTUARY HABIT. HIS GREEN EYE FLASHES BLOODSHOT.
HALF OF ONE EARALL THE NOSE AND BOTH THUMBS ARE GHOULEATEN.)

PADDY DIGNAM: (IN A HOLLOW VOICE) It is true. It was my funeral. Doctor
Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease from
natural causes.

(HE LIFTS HIS MUTILATED ASHEN FACE MOONWARDS AND BAYS LUGUBRIOUSLY.)


BLOOM: (IN TRIUMPH) You hear?

PADDY DIGNAM: BloomI am Paddy Dignam's spirit. ListlistO list!

BLOOM: The voice is the voice of Esau.

SECOND WATCH: (BLESSES HIMSELF) How is that possible?

FIRST WATCH: It is not in the penny catechism.

PADDY DIGNAM: By metempsychosis. Spooks.

A VOICE: O rocks.

PADDY DIGNAM: (EARNESTLY) Once I was in the employ of Mr J. H. Menton
solicitorcommissioner for oaths and affidavitsof 27 Bachelor's Walk.
Now I am defunctthe wall of the heart hypertrophied. Hard lines. The
poor wife was awfully cut up. How is she bearing it? Keep her off that
bottle of sherry. (HE LOOKS ROUND HIM) A lamp. I must satisfy an animal
need. That buttermilk didn't agree with me.

(THE PORTLY FIGURE OF JOHN O'CONNELLCARETAKERSTANDS FORTH
HOLDING A BUNCH OF KEYS TIED WITH CRAPE. BESIDE HIM STANDS FATHER
COFFEYCHAPLAINTOADBELLIEDWRYNECKEDIN A SURPLICE AND
BANDANNA NIGHTCAPHOLDING SLEEPILY A STAFF TWISTED POPPIES.)

FATHER COFFEY: (YAWNSTHEN CHANTS WITH A HOARSE CROAK) Namine. Jacobs.
Vobiscuits. Amen.

JOHN O'CONNELL: (FOGHORNS STORMILY THROUGH HIS MEGAPHONE) Dignam
Patrick Tdeceased.

PADDY DIGNAM: (WITH PRICKED UP EARSWINCES) Overtones. (HE WRIGGLES
FORWARD AND PLACES AN EAR TO THE GROUND) My master's voice!

JOHN O'CONNELL: Burial docket letter number U. P. eightyfive thousand.
Field seventeen. House of Keys. Plotone hundred and one.

(PADDY DIGNAM LISTENS WITH VISIBLE EFFORTTHINKINGHIS TAIL
STIFFPOINTCDHIS EARS COCKED.)

PADDY DIGNAM: Pray for the repose of his soul.

(HE WORMS DOWN THROUGH A COALHOLEHIS BROWN HABIT TRAILING ITS
TETHER OVER RATTLING PEBBLES. AFTER HIM TODDLES AN OBESE GRANDFATHER
RAT ON FUNGUS TURTLE PAWS UNDER A GREY CARAPACE. DIGNAM'S VOICE
MUFFLEDIS HEARD BAYING UNDER GROUND: Dignam's dead and gone
below. TOM ROCHFORDROBINREDBREASTEDIN CAP AND BREECHES
JUMPS FROM HIS TWOCOLUMNED MACHINE.)

TOM ROCHFORD: (A HAND TO HIS BREASTBONEBOWS) Reuben J. A florin I find
him. (HE FIXES THE MANHOLE WITH A RESOLUTE STARE) My turn now on. Follow
me up to Carlow.

(HE EXECUTES A DAREDEVIL SALMON LEAP IN THE AIR AND IS ENGULFED IN
THE COALHOLE. TWO DISCS ON THE COLUMNS WOBBLEEYES OF NOUGHT. ALL
RECEDES. BLOOM PLODGES FORWARD AGAIN THROUGH THE SUMP. KISSES
CHIRP AMID THE RIFTS OF FOG A PIANO SOUNDS. HE STANDS BEFORE A
LIGHTED HOUSELISTENING. THE KISSESWINGING FROM THEIR BOWERS FLY
ABOUT HIMTWITTERINGWARBLINGCOOING.)

THE KISSES: (WARBLING) Leo! (TWITTERING) Icky licky micky sticky for Leo!
(COOING) Coo coocoo! YummyyumWomwom! (WARBLING) Big comebig! Pirouette!
Leopopold! (TWITTERING) Leeolee! (WARBLING) O Leo!


(THEY RUSTLEFLUTTER UPON HIS GARMENTSALIGHTBRIGHT GIDDY FLECKS
SILVERY SEQUINS.)


BLOOM: A man's touch. Sad music. Church music. Perhaps here.


(ZOE HIGGINSA YOUNG WHORE IN A SAPPHIRE SLIPCLOSED WITH THREE
BRONZE BUCKLESA SLIM BLACK VELVET FILLET ROUND HER THROATNODS
TRIPS DOWN THE STEPS AND ACCOSTS HIM.)


ZOE: Are you looking for someone? He's inside with his friend.


BLOOM: Is this Mrs Mack's?


ZOE: Noeightyone. Mrs Cohen's. You might go farther and fare worse. Mother
Slipperslapper. (FAMILIARLY) She's on the job herself tonight with the vet
her tipster that gives her all the winners and pays for her son in Oxford.
Working overtime but her luck's turned today. (SUSPICIOUSLY) You're not
his fatherare you?


BLOOM: Not I!


ZOE: You both in black. Has little mousey any tickles tonight?


(HIS SKINALERTFEELS HER FINGERTIPS APPROACH. A HAND GLIDES OVER
HIS LEFT THIGH.)


ZOE: How's the nuts?


BLOOM: Off side. Curiously they are on the right. HeavierI suppose.
One in a million my tailorMesiassays.


ZOE: (IN SUDDEN ALARM) You've a hard chancre.


BLOOM: Not likely.


ZOE: I feel it.


(HER HAND SLIDES INTO HIS LEFT TROUSER POCKET AND BRINGS OUT A HARD
BLACK SHRIVELLED POTATO. SHE REGARDS IT AND BLOOM WITH DUMB MOIST
LIPS.)


BLOOM: A talisman. Heirloom.


ZOE: For Zoe? For keeps? For being so niceeh?


(SHE PUTS THE POTATO GREEDILY INTO A POCKET THEN LINKS HIS ARM
CUDDLING HIM WITH SUPPLE WARMTH. HE SMILES UNEASILY. SLOWLYNOTE
BY NOTEORIENTAL MUSIC IS PLAYED. HE GAZES IN THE TAWNY CRYSTAL OF
HER EYESRINGED WITH KOHOL. HIS SMILE SOFTENS.)


ZOE: You'll know me the next time.


BLOOM: (FORLORNLY) I never loved a dear gazelle but it was sure to ...


(GAZELLES ARE LEAPINGFEEDING ON THE MOUNTAINS. NEAR ARE LAKES.
ROUND THEIR SHORES FILE SHADOWS BLACK OF CEDARGROVES. AROMA RISES
A STRONG HAIRGROWTH OF RESIN. IT BURNSTHE ORIENTA SKY OF SAPPHIRE
CLEFT BY THE BRONZE FLIGHT OF EAGLES. UNDER IT LIES THE WOMANCITY
NUDEWHITESTILLCOOLIN LUXURY. A FOUNTAIN MURMURS AMONG
DAMASK ROSES. MAMMOTH ROSES MURMUR OF SCARLET WINEGRAPES. A
WINE OF SHAMELUSTBLOOD EXUDESSTRANGELY MURMURING.)


ZOE: (MURMURING SINGSONG WITH THE MUSICHER ODALISK LIPS LUSCIOUSLY



SMEARED WITH SALVE OF SWINEFAT AND ROSEWATER) SCHORACH ANI WENOWACH
BENOITH HIERUSHALOIM.

BLOOM: (FASCINATED) I thought you were of good stock by your accent.

ZOE: And you know what thought did?

(SHE BITES HIS EAR GENTLY WITH LITTLE GOLDSTOPPED TEETHSENDING ON
HIM A CLOYING BREATH OF STALE GARLIC. THE ROSES DRAW APARTDISCLOSE A
SEPULCHRE OF THE GOLD OF KINGS AND THEIR MOULDERING BONES.)

BLOOM: (DRAWS BACKMECHANICALLY CARESSING HER RIGHT BUB WITH A FLAT
AWKWARD HAND) Are you a Dublin girl?

ZOE: (CATCHES A STRAY HAIR DEFTLY AND TWISTS IT TO HER COIL)
No bloody fear. I'm English. Have you a swaggerroot?

BLOOM: (AS BEFORE) Rarely smokedear. Cigar now and then. Childish
device. (LEWDLY) The mouth can be better engaged than with a cylinder of
rank weed.

ZOE: Go on. Make a stump speech out of it.

BLOOM: (IN WORKMAN'S CORDUROY OVERALLSBLACK GANSY WITH RED FLOATING TIE
AND APACHE CAP) Mankind is incorrigible. Sir Walter Ralegh brought from the
new world that potato and that weedthe one a killer of pestilence by
absorptionthe other a poisoner of the eareyeheartmemorywill
understandingall. That is to say he brought the poison a hundred years
before another person whose name I forget brought the food. Suicide. Lies.
All our habits. Whylook at our public life!

(MIDNIGHT CHIMES FROM DISTANT STEEPLES.)

THE CHIMES: Turn againLeopold! Lord mayor of Dublin!

BLOOM: (IN ALDERMAN'S GOWN AND CHAIN) Electors of Arran QuayInns Quay
RotundaMountjoy and North Dockbetter run a tramlineI sayfrom the
cattlemarket to the river. That's the music of the future. That's my
programme. CUI BONO? But our bucaneering Vanderdeckens in their
phantom ship of finance ...

AN ELECTOR: Three times three for our future chief magistrate!

(THE AURORA BOREALIS OF THE TORCHLIGHT PROCESSION LEAPS.)

THE TORCHBEARERS: Hooray!

(SEVERAL WELLKNOWN BURGESSESCITY MAGNATES AND FREEMEN OF THE
CITY SHAKE HANDS WITH BLOOM AND CONGRATULATE HIM. TIMOTHY
HARRINGTONLATE THRICE LORD MAYOR OF DUBLINIMPOSING IN MAYORAL
SCARLETGOLD CHAIN AND WHITE SILK TIECONFERS WITH COUNCILLOR LORCAN
SHERLOCKLOCUM TENENS. THEY NOD VIGOROUSLY IN AGREEMENT.)

LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: (IN SCARLET ROBE WITH MACEGOLD MAYORAL CHAIN
AND LARGE WHITE SILK SCARF) That alderman sir Leo Bloom's speech be
printed at the expense of the ratepayers. That the house in which he was
born be ornamented with a commemorative tablet and that the thoroughfare
hitherto known as Cow Parlour off Cork street be henceforth designated
Boulevard Bloom.

COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: Carried unanimously.

BLOOM: (IMPASSIONEDLY) These flying Dutchmen or lying Dutchmen as they
recline in their upholstered poopcasting dicewhat reck they? Machines


is their crytheir chimeratheir panacea. Laboursaving apparatuses
supplantersbugbearsmanufactured monsters for mutual murderhideous
hobgoblins produced by a horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted
labour. The poor man starves while they are grassing their royal mountain
stags or shooting peasants and phartridges in their purblind pomp of pelf
and power. But their reign is rover for rever and ever and ev ...

(PROLONGED APPLAUSE. VENETIAN MASTSMAYPOLES AND FESTAL ARCHES
SPRING UP. A STREAMER BEARING THE LEGENDS Cead Mile Failte AND
Mah Ttob Melek Israel SPANS THE STREET. ALL THE WINDOWS ARE
THRONGED WITH SIGHTSEERSCHIEFLY LADIES. ALONG THE ROUTE THE
REGIMENTS OF THE ROYAL DUBLIN FUSILIERSTHE KING'S OWN SCOTTISH
BORDERERSTHE CAMERON HIGHLANDERS AND THE WELSH FUSILIERS
STANDING TO ATTENTIONKEEP BACK THE CROWD. BOYS FROM HIGH SCHOOL
ARE PERCHED ON THE LAMPPOSTSTELEGRAPH POLESWINDOWSILLS
CORNICESGUTTERSCHIMNEYPOTSRAILINGSRAINSPOUTSWHISTLING AND
CHEERING THE PILLAR OF THE CLOUD APPEARS. A FIFE AND DRUM BAND IS
HEARD IN THE DISTANCE PLAYING THE KOL NIDRE. THE BEATERS APPROACH
WITH IMPERIAL EAGLES HOISTEDTRAILING BANNERS AND WAVING ORIENTAL
PALMS. THE CHRYSELEPHANTINE PAPAL STANDARD RISES HIGHSURROUNDED
BY PENNONS OF THE CIVIC FLAG. THE VAN OF THE PROCESSION APPEARS
HEADED BY JOHN HOWARD PARNELLCITY MARSHALIN A CHESSBOARD
TABARDTHE ATHLONE POURSUIVANT AND ULSTER KING OF ARMS. THEY ARE
FOLLOWED BY THE RIGHT HONOURABLE JOSEPH HUTCHINSONLORD MAYOR
OF DUBLINHIS LORDSHIP THE LORD MAYOR OF CORKTHEIR WORSHIPS THE
MAYORS OF LIMERICKGALWAYSLIGO AND WATERFORDTWENTYEIGHT
IRISH REPRESENTATIVE PEERSSIRDARSGRANDEES AND MAHARAJAHS BEARING
THE CLOTH OF ESTATETHE DUBLIN METROPOLITAN FIRE BRIGADETHE
CHAPTER OF THE SAINTS OF FINANCE IN THEIR PLUTOCRATIC ORDER OF
PRECEDENCETHE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNORHIS EMINENCE
MICHAEL CARDINAL LOGUEARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGHPRIMATE OF ALL
IRELANDHIS GRACETHE MOST REVEREND DR WILLIAM ALEXANDER
ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGHPRIMATE OF ALL IRELANDTHE CHIEF RABBITHE
PRESBYTERIAN MODERATORTHE HEADS OF THE BAPTISTANABAPTIST
METHODIST AND MORAVIAN CHAPELS AND THE HONORARY SECRETARY OF THE
SOCIETY OF FRIENDS. AFTER THEM MARCH THE GUILDS AND TRADES AND
TRAINBANDS WITH FLYING COLOURS: COOPERSBIRD FANCIERSMILLWRIGHTS
NEWSPAPER CANVASSERSLAW SCRIVENERSMASSEURSVINTNERS
TRUSSMAKERSCHIMNEYSWEEPSLARD REFINERSTABINET AND POPLIN
WEAVERSFARRIERSITALIAN WAREHOUSEMENCHURCH DECORATORS
BOOTJACK MANUFACTURERSUNDERTAKERSSILK MERCERSLAPIDARIES
SALESMASTERSCORKCUTTERSASSESSORS OF FIRE LOSSESDYERS AND CLEANERS
EXPORT BOTTLERSFELLMONGERSTICKETWRITERSHERALDIC SEAL ENGRAVERS
HORSE REPOSITORY HANDSBULLION BROKERSCRICKET AND ARCHERY
OUTFITTERSRIDDLEMAKERSEGG AND POTATO FACTORSHOSIERS AND GLOVERS
PLUMBING CONTRACTORS. AFTER THEM MARCH GENTLEMEN OF THE
BEDCHAMBERBLACK RODDEPUTY GARTERGOLD STICKTHE MASTER OF
HORSETHE LORD GREAT CHAMBERLAINTHE EARL MARSHALTHE HIGH
CONSTABLE CARRYING THE SWORD OF STATESAINT STEPHEN'S IRON CROWN
THE CHALICE AND BIBLE. FOUR BUGLERS ON FOOT BLOW A SENNET. BEEFEATERS
REPLYWINDING CLARIONS OF WELCOME. UNDER AN ARCH OF TRIUMPH
BLOOM APPEARSBAREHEADEDIN A CRIMSON VELVET MANTLE TRIMMED
WITH ERMINEBEARING SAINT EDWARD'S STAFF THE ORB AND SCEPTRE WITH
THE DOVETHE CURTANA. HE IS SEATED ON A MILKWHITE HORSE WITH LONG
FLOWING CRIMSON TAILRICHLY CAPARISONEDWITH GOLDEN HEADSTALL. WILD
EXCITEMENT. THE LADIES FROM THEIR BALCONIES THROW DOWN ROSEPETALS.
THE AIR IS PERFUMED WITH ESSENCES. THE MEN CHEER. BLOOM'S BOYS
RUN AMID THE BYSTANDERS WITH BRANCHES OF HAWTHORN AND WRENBUSHES.)

BLOOM'S BOYS:

The wrenthe wren
The king of all birds



Saint Stephen's his day

Was caught in the furze.

A BLACKSMITH: (MURMURS) For the honour of God! And is that Bloom? He
scarcely looks thirtyone.

A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: That's the famous Bloom nowthe world's greatest
reformer. Hats off!

(ALL UNCOVER THEIR HEADS. WOMEN WHISPER EAGERLY.)

A MILLIONAIRESS: (RICHLY) Isn't he simply wonderful?

A NOBLEWOMAN: (NOBLY) All that man has seen!

A FEMINIST: (MASCULINELY) And done!

A BELLHANGER: A classic face! He has the forehead of a thinker.

(BLOOM'S WEATHER. A SUNBURST APPEARS IN THE NORTHWEST.)

THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: I here present your undoubted
emperor-president and king-chairmanthe most serene and potent and very
puissant ruler of this realm. God save Leopold the First!

ALL: God save Leopold the First!

BLOOM: (IN DALMATIC AND PURPLE MANTLETO THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR
WITH DIGNITY) Thankssomewhat eminent sir.

WILLIAMARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (IN PURPLE STOCK AND SHOVEL HAT) Will you
to your power cause law and mercy to be executed in all your judgments in
Ireland and territories thereunto belonging?

BLOOM: (PLACING HIS RIGHT HAND ON HIS TESTICLESSWEARS) So may the
Creator deal with me. All this I promise to do.

MICHAELARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (POURS A CRUSE OF HAIROIL OVER BLOOM'S
HEAD) GAUDIUM MAGNUM ANNUNTIO VOBIS. HABEMUS CARNEFICEM. LeopoldPatrick
AndrewDavidGeorgebe thou anointed!

(BLOOM ASSUMES A MANTLE OF CLOTH OF GOLD AND PUTS ON A RUBY RING.
HE ASCENDS AND STANDS ON THE STONE OF DESTINY. THE REPRESENTATIVE
PEERS PUT ON AT THE SAME TIME THEIR TWENTYEIGHT CROWNS. JOYBELLS RING
IN CHRIST CHURCHSAINT PATRICK'SGEORGE'S AND GAY MALAHIDE. MIRUS
BAZAAR FIREWORKS GO UP FROM ALL SIDES WITH SYMBOLICAL PHALLOPYROTECHNIC
DESIGNS. THE PEERS DO HOMAGEONE BY ONEAPPROACHING AND GENUFLECTING.)

THE PEERS: I do become your liege man of life and limb to earthly worship.

(BLOOM HOLDS UP HIS RIGHT HAND ON WHICH SPARKLES THE KOH-I-NOOR
DIAMOND. HIS PALFREY NEIGHS. IMMEDIATE SILENCE. WIRELESS
INTERCONTINENTAL AND INTERPLANETARY TRANSMITTERS ARE SET FOR RECEPTION
OF MESSAGE.)

BLOOM: My subjects! We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix
hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we have this day repudiated
our former spouse and have bestowed our royal hand upon the princess
Selenethe splendour of night.

(THE FORMER MORGANATIC SPOUSE OF BLOOM IS HASTILY REMOVED IN THE
BLACK MARIA. THE PRINCESS SELENEIN MOONBLUE ROBESA SILVER
CRESCENT ON HER HEADDESCENDS FROM A SEDAN CHAIRBORNE BY TWO


GIANTS. AN OUTBURST OF CHEERING.)

JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: (RAISES THE ROYAL STANDARD) Illustrious Bloom!
Successor to my famous brother!

BLOOM: (EMBRACES JOHN HOWARD PARNELL) We thank you from our heartJohn
for this right royal welcome to green Erinthe promised land of our common
ancestors.

(THE FREEDOM OF THE CITY IS PRESENTED TO HIM EMBODIED IN A CHARTER.
THE KEYS OF DUBLINCROSSED ON A CRIMSON CUSHIONARE GIVEN TO HIM.
HE SHOWS ALL THAT HE IS WEARING GREEN SOCKS.)

TOM KERNAN: You deserve ityour honour.

BLOOM: On this day twenty years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at
Ladysmith. Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his lines with
telling effect. Half a league onward! They charge! All is lost now! Do we
yield? No! We drive them headlong! Lo! We charge! Deploying to the left
our light horse swept across the heights of Plevna anduttering their
warcry BONAFIDE SABAOTHsabred the Saracen gunners to a man.

THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: Hear! Hear!

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: There's the man that got away James Stephens.

A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: Bravo!

AN OLD RESIDENT: You're a credit to your countrysirthat's what you are.

AN APPLEWOMAN: He's a man like Ireland wants.

BLOOM: My beloved subjectsa new era is about to dawn. IBloomtell you
verily it is even now at hand. Yeaon the word of a Bloomye shall ere long
enter into the golden city which is to bethe new Bloomusalem in the Nova
Hibernia of the future.

(THIRTYTWO WORKMENWEARING ROSETTESFROM ALL THE COUNTIES OF
IRELANDUNDER THE GUIDANCE OF DERWAN THE BUILDERCONSTRUCT THE
NEW BLOOMUSALEM. IT IS A COLOSSAL EDIFICE WITH CRYSTAL ROOFBUILT IN
THE SHAPE OF A HUGE PORK KIDNEYCONTAINING FORTY THOUSAND ROOMS.
IN THE COURSE OF ITS EXTENSION SEVERAL BUILDINGS AND MONUMENTS ARE
DEMOLISHED. GOVERNMENT OFFICES ARE TEMPORARILY TRANSFERRED TO
RAILWAY SHEDS. NUMEROUS HOUSES ARE RAZED TO THE GROUND. THE
INHABITANTS ARE LODGED IN BARRELS AND BOXESALL MARKED IN RED WITH
THE LETTERS: L. B. SEVERAL PAUPERS FILL FROM A LADDER. A PART OF THE
WALLS OF DUBLINCROWDED WITH LOYAL SIGHTSEERSCOLLAPSES.)

THE SIGHTSEERS: (DYING) MORITURI TE SALUTANT. (THEY DIE)

(A MAN IN A BROWN MACINTOSH SPRINGS UP THROUGH A TRAPDOOR. HE
POINTS AN ELONGATED FINGER AT BLOOM.)

THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH: Don't you believe a word he says. That man is
Leopold M'Intoshthe notorious fireraiser. His real name is Higgins.

BLOOM: Shoot him! Dog of a christian! So much for M'Intosh!

(A CANNONSHOT. THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH DISAPPEARS. BLOOM WITH
HIS SCEPTRE STRIKES DOWN POPPIES. THE INSTANTANEOUS DEATHS OF MANY
POWERFUL ENEMIESGRAZIERSMEMBERS OF PARLIAMENTMEMBERS OF
STANDING COMMITTEESARE REPORTED. BLOOM'S BODYGUARD DISTRIBUTE
MAUNDY MONEYCOMMEMORATION MEDALSLOAVES AND FISHES
TEMPERANCE BADGESEXPENSIVE HENRY CLAY CIGARSFREE COWBONES FOR


SOUPRUBBER PRESERVATIVES IN SEALED ENVELOPES TIED WITH GOLD THREAD
BUTTER SCOTCHPINEAPPLE ROCKbillets doux IN THE FORM OF COCKED
HATSREADYMADE SUITSPORRINGERS OF TOAD IN THE HOLEBOTTLES OF
JEYES' FLUIDPURCHASE STAMPS40 DAYS' INDULGENCESSPURIOUS COINS
DAIRYFED PORK SAUSAGESTHEATRE PASSESSEASON TICKETS AVAILABLE FOR
ALL TRAMLINESCOUPONS OF THE ROYAL AND PRIVILEGED HUNGARIAN
LOTTERYPENNY DINNER COUNTERSCHEAP REPRINTS OF THE WORLD'S TWELVE
WORST BOOKS: FROGGY AND FRITZ (POLITIC)CARE OF THE BABY
(INFANTILIC)50 MEALS FOR 7/6 (CULINIC)WAS JESUS A SUN MYTH?
(HISTORIC)EXPEL THAT PAIN (MEDIC)INFANT'S COMPENDIUM OF THE
UNIVERSE (COSMIC)LET'S ALL CHORTLE (HILARIC)CANVASSER'S VADE
MECUM (JOURNALIC)LOVELETTERS OF MOTHER ASSISTANT (EROTIC)WHO'S
WHO IN SPACE (ASTRIC)SONGS THAT REACHED OUR HEART (MELODIC)
PENNYWISE'S WAY TO WEALTH (PARSIMONIC). A GENERAL RUSH AND
SCRAMBLE. WOMEN PRESS FORWARD TO TOUCH THE HEM OF BLOOM'S ROBE.
THE LADY GWENDOLEN DUBEDAT BURSTS THROUGH THE THRONGLEAPS ON
HIS HORSE AND KISSES HIM ON BOTH CHEEKS AMID GREAT ACCLAMATION. A
MAGNESIUM FLASHLIGHT PHOTOGRAPH IS TAKEN. BABES AND SUCKLINGS ARE
HELD UP.)

THE WOMEN: Little father! Little father!

THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS:

Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home

Cakes in his pocket for Leo alone.

(BLOOMBENDING DOWNPOKES BABY BOARDMAN GENTLY IN THE STOMACH.)

BABY BOARDMAN: (HICCUPSCURDLED MILK FLOWING FROM HIS MOUTH) Hajajaja.

BLOOM: (SHAKING HANDS WITH A BLIND STRIPLING) My more than Brother!
(PLACING HIS ARMS ROUND THE SHOULDERS OF AN OLD COUPLE) Dear old friends!
(HE PLAYS PUSSY FOURCORNERS WITH RAGGED BOYS AND GIRLS) Peep! Bopeep! (HE
WHEELS TWINS IN A PERAMBULATOR) Ticktacktwo wouldyousetashoe? (HE PERFORMS
JUGGLER'S TRICKSDRAWS REDORANGEYELLOWGREENBLUEINDIGO AND
VIOLET SILK HANDKERCHIEFS FROM HIS MOUTH) Roygbiv. 32 feet per second. (HE
CONSOLES A WIDOW) Absence makes the heart grow younger. (HE DANCES THE
HIGHLAND FLING WITH GROTESQUE ANTICS) Leg itye devils! (HE KISSES THE
BEDSORES OF A PALSIED VETERAN) Honourable wounds! (HE TRIPS UP A FIT
POLICEMAN) U. p: up. U. p: up. (HE WHISPERS IN THE EAR OF A BLUSHING
WAITRESS AND LAUGHS KINDLY) Ahnaughtynaughty! (HE EATS A RAW TURNIP
OFFERED HIM BY MAURICE BUTTERLYFARMER) Fine! Splendid! (HE REFUSES TO
ACCEPT THREE SHILLINGS OFFERED HIM BY JOSEPH HYNESJOURNALIST) My dear
fellownot at all! (HE GIVES HIS COAT TO A BEGGAR) Please accept.
(HE TAKES PART IN A STOMACH RACE WITH ELDERLY MALE AND FEMALE CRIPPLES)
Come onboys! Wriggle itgirls!

THE CITIZEN: (CHOKED WITH EMOTIONBRUSHES ASIDE A TEAR IN HIS EMERALD
MUFFLER) May the good God bless him!

(THE RAMS' HORNS SOUND FOR SILENCE. THE STANDARD OF ZION IS HOISTED.)

BLOOM: (UNCLOAKS IMPRESSIVELYREVEALING OBESITYUNROLLS A PAPER AND
READS SOLEMNLY) Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom
Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth
Askenazim Meshuggah Talith.

(AN OFFICIAL TRANSLATION IS READ BY JIMMY HENRYASSISTANT TOWN CLERK.)

JIMMY HENRY: The Court of Conscience is now open. His Most Catholic
Majesty will now administer open air justice. Free medical and legal


advicesolution of doubles and other problems. All cordially invited.
Given at this our loyal city of Dublin in the year I of the Paradisiacal
Era.

PADDY LEONARD: What am I to do about my rates and taxes?

BLOOM: Pay themmy friend.

PADDY LEONARD: Thank you.

NOSEY FLYNN: Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance?

BLOOM: (OBDURATELY) Sirstake notice that by the law of torts you are
bound over in your own recognisances for six months in the sum of five
pounds.

J. J. O'MOLLOY: A Daniel did I say? Nay! A Peter O'Brien!
NOSEY FLYNN: Where do I draw the five pounds?

PISSER BURKE: For bladder trouble?

BLOOM:

ACID. NIT. HYDROCHLOR. DIL.20 minims

TINCT. NUX VOM.5 minims

EXTR. TARAXEL. IIQ.30 minims.

AQ. DIS. TER IN DIE.

CHRIS CALLINAN: What is the parallax of the subsolar ecliptic of Aldebaran?

BLOOM: Pleased to hear from youChris. K. II.

JOE HYNES: Why aren't you in uniform?

BLOOM: When my progenitor of sainted memory wore the uniform of the
Austrian despot in a dank prison where was yours?

BEN DOLLARD: Pansies?

BLOOM: Embellish (beautify) suburban gardens.

BEN DOLLARD: When twins arrive?

BLOOM: Father (paterdad) starts thinking.

LARRY O'ROURKE: An eightday licence for my new premises. You remember me
sir Leowhen you were in number seven. I'm sending around a dozen of
stout for the missus.

BLOOM: (COLDLY) You have the advantage of me. Lady Bloom accepts no
presents.

CROFTON: This is indeed a festivity.

BLOOM: (SOLEMNLY) You call it a festivity. I call it a sacrament.

ALEXANDER KEYES: When will we have our own house of keys?

BLOOM: I stand for the reform of municipal morals and the plain ten
commandments. New worlds for old. Union of alljewmoslem and gentile.
Three acres and a cow for all children of nature. Saloon motor hearses.
Compulsory manual labour for all. All parks open to the public day and


night. Electric dishscrubbers. Tuberculosislunacywar and mendicancy
must now cease. General amnestyweekly carnival with masked licence
bonuses for allesperanto the universal language with universal
brotherhood. No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors.
Free moneyfree rentfree love and a free lay church in a free
lay state.

O'MADDEN BURKE: Free fox in a free henroost.

DAVY BYRNE: (YAWNING) Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach!

BLOOM: Mixed races and mixed marriage.

LENEHAN: What about mixed bathing?

(BLOOM EXPLAINS TO THOSE NEAR HIM HIS SCHEMES FOR SOCIAL
REGENERATION. ALL AGREE WITH HIM. THE KEEPER OF THE KILDARE STREET
MUSEUM APPEARSDRAGGING A LORRY ON WHICH ARE THE SHAKING STATUES
OF SEVERAL NAKED GODDESSESVENUS CALLIPYGEVENUS PANDEMOS
VENUS METEMPSYCHOSISAND PLASTER FIGURESALSO NAKEDREPRESENTING
THE NEW NINE MUSESCOMMERCEOPERATIC MUSICAMORPUBLICITY
MANUFACTURELIBERTY OF SPEECHPLURAL VOTINGGASTRONOMY
PRIVATE HYGIENESEASIDE CONCERT ENTERTAINMENTSPAINLESS
OBSTETRICS AND ASTRONOMY FOR THE PEOPLE.)

FATHER FARLEY: He is an episcopalianan agnostican anythingarian
seeking to overthrow our holy faith.

MRS RIORDAN: (TEARS UP HER WILL) I'm disappointed in you! You bad man!

MOTHER GROGAN: (REMOVES HER BOOT TO THROW IT AT BLOOM) You beast!
You abominable person!

NOSEY FLYNN: Give us a tuneBloom. One of the old sweet songs.

BLOOM: (WITH ROLLICKING HUMOUR)

I vowed that I never would leave her

She turned out a cruel deceiver.

With my tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom.

HOPPY HOLOHAN: Good old Bloom! There's nobody like him after all.

PADDY LEONARD: Stage Irishman!

BLOOM: What railway opera is like a tramline in Gibraltar? The Rows of
Casteele. (LAUGHTER.)

LENEHAN: Plagiarist! Down with Bloom!

THE VEILED SIBYL: (ENTHUSIASTICALLY) I'm a Bloomite and I glory in it.
I believe in him in spite of all. I'd give my life for himthe funniest
man on earth.

BLOOM: (WINKS AT THE BYSTANDERS) I bet she's a bonny lassie.

THEODORE PUREFOY: (IN FISHINGCAP AND OILSKIN JACKET) He employs a
mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of nature.

THE VEILED SIBYL: (STABS HERSELF) My hero god! (SHE DIES)

(MANY MOST ATTRACTIVE AND ENTHUSIASTIC WOMEN ALSO COMMIT SUICIDE


BY STABBINGDROWNINGDRINKING PRUSSIC ACIDACONITEARSENIC
OPENING THEIR VEINSREFUSING FOODCASTING THEMSELVES UNDER
STEAMROLLERSFROM THE TOP OF NELSON'S PILLARINTO THE GREAT VAT OF
GUINNESS'S BREWERYASPHYXIATING THEMSELVES BY PLACING THEIR HEADS
IN GASOVENSHANGING THEMSELVES IN STYLISH GARTERSLEAPING FROM
WINDOWS OF DIFFERENT STOREYS.)

ALEXANDER J DOWIE: (VIOLENTLY) Fellowchristians and antiBloomitesthe man
called Bloom is from the roots of hella disgrace to christian men.
A fiendish libertine from his earliest years this stinking goat of Mendes
gave precocious signs of infantile debaucheryrecalling the cities of the
plainwith a dissolute granddam. This vile hypocritebronzed with infamy
is the white bull mentioned in the Apocalypse. A worshipper of the Scarlet
Womanintrigue is the very breath of his nostrils. The stake faggots and
the caldron of boiling oil are for him. Caliban!

THE MOB: Lynch him! Roast him! He's as bad as Parnell was. Mr Fox!

(MOTHER GROGAN THROWS HER BOOT AT BLOOM. SEVERAL SHOPKEEPERS
FROM UPPER AND LOWER DORSET STREET THROW OBJECTS OF LITTLE OR NO
COMMERCIAL VALUEHAMBONESCONDENSED MILK TINSUNSALEABLE
CABBAGESTALE BREADSHEEP'S TAILSODD PIECES OF FAT.)

BLOOM: (EXCITEDLY) This is midsummer madnesssome ghastly joke again. By
heavenI am guiltless as the unsunned snow! It was my brother Henry. He
is my double. He lives in number 2 Dolphin's Barn. Slanderthe viperhas
wrongfully accused me. FellowcountrymenSGENL INN BAN BATA COISDE GAN
CAPALL. I call on my old friendDr Malachi Mulligansex specialistto
give medical testimony on my behalf.

DR MULLIGAN: (IN MOTOR JERKINGREEN MOTORGOGGLES ON HIS BROW) Dr Bloom is
bisexually abnormal. He has recently escaped from Dr Eustace's private
asylum for demented gentlemen. Born out of bedlock hereditary epilepsy is
presentthe consequence of unbridled lust. Traces of elephantiasis have been
discovered among his ascendants. There are marked symptoms of chronic
exhibitionism. Ambidexterity is also latent. He is prematurely bald from
selfabuseperversely idealistic in consequencea reformed rakeand has
metal teeth. In consequence of a family complex he has temporarily lost
his memory and I believe him to be more sinned against than sinning. I
have made a pervaginal examination andafter application of the acid test
to 5427 analaxillarypectoral and pubic hairsI declare him to be
VIRGO INTACTA.

(BLOOM HOLDS HIS HIGH GRADE HAT OVER HIS GENITAL ORGANS.)

DR MADDEN: Hypsospadia is also marked. In the interest of coming
generations I suggest that the parts affected should be preserved in
spirits of wine in the national teratological museum.

DR CROTTHERS: I have examined the patient's urine. It is albuminoid.
Salivation is insufficientthe patellar reflex intermittent.

DR PUNCH COSTELLO: The FETOR JUDAICUS is most perceptible.

DR DIXON: (READS A BILL OF HEALTH) Professor Bloom is a finished example of
the new womanly man. His moral nature is simple and lovable. Many have found
him a dear mana dear person. He is a rather quaint fellow on the whole
coy though not feebleminded in the medical sense. He has written a really
beautiful lettera poem in itselfto the court missionary of the
Reformed Priests' Protection Society which clears up everything. He is
practically a total abstainer and I can affirm that he sleeps on a straw
litter and eats the most Spartan foodcold dried grocer's peas. He wears
a hairshirt of pure Irish manufacture winter and summer and scourges
himself every Saturday. He wasI understandat one time a firstclass


misdemeanant in Glencree reformatory. Another report states that he was a
very posthumous child. I appeal for clemency in the name of the most
sacred word our vocal organs have ever been called upon to speak. He is
about to have a baby.

(GENERAL COMMOTION AND COMPASSION. WOMEN FAINT. A WEALTHY
AMERICAN MAKES A STREET COLLECTION FOR BLOOM. GOLD AND SILVER
COINSBLANK CHEQUESBANKNOTESJEWELSTREASURY BONDSMATURING
BILLS OF EXCHANGEI. O. U'SWEDDING RINGSWATCHCHAINSLOCKETS
NECKLACES AND BRACELETS ARE RAPIDLY COLLECTED.)

BLOOM: OI so want to be a mother.

MRS THORNTON: (IN NURSETENDER'S GOWN) Embrace me tightdear.
You'll be soon over it. Tightdear.

(BLOOM EMBRACES HER TIGHTLY AND BEARS EIGHT MALE YELLOW AND WHITE
CHILDREN. THEY APPEAR ON A REDCARPETED STAIRCASE ADORNED WITH
EXPENSIVE PLANTS. ALL THE OCTUPLETS ARE HANDSOMEWITH VALUABLE
METALLIC FACESWELLMADERESPECTABLY DRESSED AND WELLCONDUCTED
SPEAKING FIVE MODERN LANGUAGES FLUENTLY AND INTERESTED IN VARIOUS
ARTS AND SCIENCES. EACH HAS HIS NAME PRINTED IN LEGIBLE LETTERS ON HIS
SHIRTFRONT: NASODOROGOLDFINGERCHRYSOSTOMOSMAINDOREE
SILVERSMILESILBERSELBERVIFARGENTPANARGYROS. THEY ARE
IMMEDIATELY APPOINTED TO POSITIONS OF HIGH PUBLIC TRUST IN SEVERAL
DIFFERENT COUNTRIES AS MANAGING DIRECTORS OF BANKSTRAFFIC MANAGERS
OF RAILWAYSCHAIRMEN OF LIMITED LIABILITY COMPANIESVICECHAIRMEN
OF HOTEL SYNDICATES.)

A VOICE: Bloomare you the Messiah ben Joseph or ben David?

BLOOM: (DARKLY) You have said it.

BROTHER BUZZ: Then perform a miracle like Father Charles.

BANTAM LYONS: Prophesy who will win the Saint Leger.

(BLOOM WALKS ON A NETCOVERS HIS LEFT EYE WITH HIS LEFT EARPASSES
THROUGH SEVERAL WALLSCLIMBS NELSON'S PILLARHANGS FROM THE TOP
LEDGE BY HIS EYELIDSEATS TWELVE DOZEN OYSTERS (SHELLS INCLUDED)
HEALS SEVERAL SUFFERERS FROM KING'S EVILCONTRACTS HIS FACE SO AS TO
RESEMBLE MANY HISTORICAL PERSONAGESLORD BEACONSFIELDLORD
BYRONWAT TYLERMOSES OF EGYPTMOSES MAIMONIDESMOSES
MENDELSSOHNHENRY IRVINGRIP VAN WINKLEKOSSUTHJEAN JACQUES
ROUSSEAUBARON LEOPOLD ROTHSCHILDROBINSON CRUSOESHERLOCK
HOLMESPASTEURTURNS EACH FOOT SIMULTANEOUSLY IN DIFFERENT
DIRECTIONSBIDS THE TIDE TURN BACKECLIPSES THE SUN BY EXTENDING HIS
LITTLE FINGER.)

BRINIPAPAL NUNCIO: (IN PAPAL ZOUAVE'S UNIFORMSTEEL CUIRASSES AS
BREASTPLATEARMPLATESTHIGHPLATESLEGPLATESLARGE PROFANE MOUSTACHES
AND BROWN PAPER MITRE) LEOPOLDI AUTEM GENERATIO. Moses begat Noah and Noah
begat Eunuch and Eunuch begat O'Halloran and O'Halloran begat Guggenheim
and Guggenheim begat Agendath and Agendath begat Netaim and Netaim
begat Le Hirsch and Le Hirsch begat Jesurum and Jesurum begat MacKay
and MacKay begat Ostrolopsky and Ostrolopsky begat Smerdoz and
Smerdoz begat Weiss and Weiss begat Schwarz and Schwarz begat
Adrianopoli and Adrianopoli begat Aranjuez and Aranjuez begat Lewy
Lawson and Lewy Lawson begat Ichabudonosor and