(Nighttown. Rows of grimy houses with gaping doors. Rare smoky lamps. |3Little Stunted3| men and women squabble for ices round a halted gondola. They grab wafers between which are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow. The stunted men and women scatter slowly, sucking up the melting coloured snow. They are children. The highreared |3swan3| comb of the gondola forges on through the dark, passing under a lighthouse, d white and blue. Whistles are heard from afar, calling, answering)
Wait my love and I'll be with you.
Round behind the stable.
Where is the great light?
(gurgles) |bGhah Ghahest! Ghahghahest!b|
(They release him. He slops on.)a|3|
On a step a |3ragpicker gnome3| crouches to shoulder a sack |3of rags & bones3|. A crone, standing by with a guttering oillamp rams her last bottle in the maw of his sack. He shoulders his booty and hobbles off mutely, tugging a peaked cap askew on his eyes. The crone makes back for her lair, swaying her lamp. A bandy child, asquat on the doorstep with a paper shuttlecock crawls sidling after her in jerks and, clutching at her skirt, scrambles up. |3A pigmy woman swings on a rope slung between two railings3| A drunken navvy grips with both hands the railings ofº an area, swaying heavily to and fro. At a corner two night patrols in shouldercapes, their hands upon their staff holsters, stand (loom) tall and silent. A plate is heard to crash: a woman's scream follows: a child is heard wailing. Heads are thrust out of their cells, listening. Oaths of a man are roared out indistinctly. They cease. Figures, male, female, wander through the murk, round turnings, into warrens. |3|aThe head |b(muffled by its arm & hat)b| ofa| A form sprawled o against a dustbuck dustbin snores ——ly |xHayfoot and strawfootx| |xdeafdumbx| |xIdiot gobbles Salutex|3| In an openwindowed room lit by a candle, stuck in a bottleneck, a slut combs out the tatts of another slut's hair. A girl's voice, still young, sings out from a lane.)
|3The Girl Cissy Caffrey3|
I gave it to Molly
Because she was jolly
The leg of the duck
The leg of the duck.
(Twoº redcoats |3marching3|, swaggersticks tight in their oxters, face about towards the voice and, without halting, emit in chorus from their mouths a volleyed fart. Laughter of men from the lane. A hoarse hag retorts.)
Signs on you, dirty arse. More power the Cavan girl.
|3The Girl Cissy Caffrey3|
(screams) More luck to me. Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet.
(The |3redcoats blank3| turn as before and counterretort, marching on. Near the lamp their tunics are bloodbright, their blond skulls close cropped. Biscuitcaps set on the side lobes look like empty ballsockets. The girl's voice |3rises soars3| higher)
I gave it to Nelly
To stick in her belly
The leg of the duck
The leg of the duck.
(The redcoats halt with the patrol in talk. |3A girl |aCissy Caffrey blanka|3| with hair on the wind rushes across the street, her batshawl wingflapping from her arms. She shrieks, laughing, rustling and is engulfed in a doorway. A burly porter pursues her with booted strides. He stumbles on the steps but recovers and plunges into gloom after her. Weaker shrieks of laughter are heard. They are suffocated. A young man in black with a wide hat passes through the figures, talking animatedly, pointing ahead with |3his blank3| stick |3in his left hand3| |3chanting the paschal introit Vidi aquam egredientem de templo a latere dextro3|. |3A dog terrier slinks after him |agrowlinga|. He scares it off with a flourish of his ashplant.3| Aº broader young man wearing a jockey cap walks beside him, a sneer of discontent on his beaked face. |3her famished snaggletusks protruding)3| An elderly procuress lolled against a doorframe looks out and calls in a husky whisper)
Sst! Come here till I tell you. Maidenhead inside. Sst! (They pass unheeding. She calls |3scornfully3|)
In the darkmans clip and kiss3|
Trinity medicals. Fallopian tube. All prick and no money.
(She spits |3her a jet of3| venom. |3A redhaired girl Edy Boardman sniffling3|, |3seated crouched3| with a friend on a step, draws her shawl quickly across her nostrils as she relates)
|3The Redhaired Girl Edy3|
|3(bickering)3| And says the one: I seen you in Faithful Placeº with your squarepusher in the come-to-bed hat. Did you? says I. That's not for you to say, says I. You never seen me |3nightwalking3| in the mantrap with a highlander, says I. Stag that one is. Stubborn as a mule. And her walking with two fellows the one time. Kilbride, the enginedriver, and lance corporal Oliphant.
Et omnes ad quos pervenit acqua ista. Salvi facti sunt.3|
|3(looks behind)3| So that?
So that the art of gesture is to render visible not the lay
sense but the first structural rhythm. Who wants
two gestures to illustrate a loaf and a jug? This movement illustrates then the
loaf and jug of bread, or wine I mean, in Omar. Here, hold myº stick.
Damn your yellow stick.
(Stephen gives the stick quickly and slowly holds out his hands, his head going back till both hands are a span or so from his breast, downturned, in planes intersecting, the fingers about to part, the left being higher)
Which is the jug of bread? It skills not. Illustrate thou. Here, take your crutch |3& walk straight3|.
(They pass out of sight. |3An urchin Tommy Caffrey |astarts toa|3| scrambles to a streetlamp and, clasping, climbs it in spasms. From the spur at the top he slides down |3to his ring of urchin friends3|. |3|xJackyx| another urchin climbs.3| The navvy, leaving hold of the railings, lurches against the lamp. The urchin slides down. All scuttle off in the darkness. The navvy, swaying, presses a forefinger against a wing of his nose. Swaying, he ejects from the farther nostril a long liquid jet of snot. Then, shouldering the lamp, he staggers away through the crowd, with his flaring cresset. |3Feelers of riverfog creep.3| Bloom |3emerges from the crowd and stands by the curbstone3| |3in the distance3| comes round a corner hastily and stops, out of breath. In each hand he holds a paper parcel, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen and a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper, the other two slices of quarten loaf and a cake of Fry's chocolate. He frowns, hesitates.
|3Grooves Lanes Tramstracks |aA leaping glow.a| A tramsliding, uncobbled, with skeleton tracks set with red & green |alamps pennonsa|.
Bl. blunders forward.
Aurora borealis? Or a steel foundry glow? Ah, the brigade. South side anyway. (he hums cheerfully) London's burning, London's burning. On fire. On fire.3|
|3Bloom. He darts suddenly across the road. A |aHowthgoing tram dragon sandstrewera| with large |areda| eye and red rooflights slews heavily down upon him, its gong banging.
Bang Bla Bloo Blud Bak Bugg
It slews grazes him behind. He pauses, looks round, darts to the left.º
|aUrchins shout to him
Hey! Mister? Mind out!a|
He see hears, sees, darts to the right and reaches the further side of the street.
Are you doing the hatrick hattrick, mister?
He darts suddenly across the road to the right. Urchins shout.
|aHey. mister! Mind out! Mind out, mister!a|
(Two cyclists with lighted paper lanterns swaying, swerve & swim by him, grazing, their bells rattling.
x x x x x x x x
He pauses, looks around, darts suddenly to the left. Through the rising fog a dragon sandstrewer with a huge red |aeye headlighta| slews heavily down upon him, |aits trollysnake hissing on the wire,a| its gong banging.
Bang Bla Bloo Blud Bak Bugg
The brake cracks violently. The motorman jerked forward, yells.
Hey, blank, are you doing the hat trick?
Bloom leaps to the curbstone, halts, |abends sidewaysa| pressing one parcel to his right |aside ribsa|.
Stitch in my side. Close shave that. Time Day the mudboard wheel of the Black Maria peeled off my |aboot shoea| at Ty Noblett's corner. Lightness in the head. The monthly course or effect of the other.3|
|3(A dark sinister figure|a, |bdarkfaced darkvisagedb| from infected mena| regards him.
Buenas noches, señorita. Que calle es esta?
|aMabbot street. Sraid Mabbot.a|
Haha. Slan leath.3|
|3Bloom perceives a figure in the distance. He starts off suddenly to the right. A vagrant bars his path. They move leap to the left together.
(They both leap to the right.
He |aswerves &a| nips by.
|xLB signposts for tourists Keep to Rx|3|
|3|xA |apestering |brunning snatchpurseb|a| child runs full tilt against towards him |a& collidesa|
The child disappears between the legs of others.
(feels his parcels watch & pockets) |apickpocket's dodgea|x|3|
(|3the terrier approaches him, sniffing3| Rudolph, a stooped bearded figure, appears beside him, garbed in a long caftan embroidered with dog's heads, a smokingcap with magenta tassels and wearing horned spectacles)
|3|xYellow poison streaksx|3| Second half crown wasted today. I told you not go with drunken goy ever.
|3(|ain a youth's |bsmartb| serge |bOxfordb| suit, narrow shouldered and Alpine hat, |xgent's stg silverx| |bkeyless Waterbury |cdouble curb Albert with seal attachedc|b| one side of him mudcoateda| hiding the crubeen parcel behind his back) Ja, ich weiss, papachi.3| I know.
(He looks down, shamefaced, feeling through the paper a warm crubeen, a cold trotter)
What are you doing? |3(fingers on face)3| Are you not my son Leopold.
|3Yes, I suppose so,3| father. |3What's left of him.3|
(severely) One night they bring you home drunk as dog after spend your good money. What you call them running chaps?
Harriers. Only that once.
Once! |3Nice spectacles for your poor mother.3| All mud head |3to and3| foot. Cut your hand open. Lockjaw.
(weakly |3crestfallen3|) They challenged me to race them. It was muddy. I slipped.
(with contempt) Goim nachez! Nice spectacles for your poor mother.
(Ellen Bloom, a dame in stringed bonnet, wide skirt and bustle, |3buttoned blouse with muttonleg sleeves, buttoned behind |amobcapa|3| pushes aside a curtain)
(in shrill alarm) O, blessed Redeemer!º Where were you at all? |3My smelling salts3|
(Bloom looks down at his clothes and bestows the bread and chocolate in a side pocket. |3With her mirage of datepalms3| A handsome woman in Turkish costume stands before him. Opulent curves fill her scarlet trousers and jacket. A white yashmak, violet in the night, covers her face and |3raven3| hair, leaving free only her large dark eyes)
Mrs Marion, please, from this out |amy dear man |bwhen you address meb|a|.3|
(He breathes in deep agitation, wavering. Questions rise to his lips. He swallows them down. He wishes to sink to the ground near her slippers to tell her that he bought the crubeen and trotter, the bread and chocolate for her supper. He wishes, unwishes, is cold, warm, knows, knows not, stands helpless, spellbound by her eyes and dress. Beneath her turreted turban a coin gleams on her forehead. Her anklets are linked together by a fetterchain. Beside her a camel waits with hood and |3palanquin bobbing howdah3|, aº |3silk3| ladder of innumerable steps, leading to his hump. |3He ambles near. She slaps his flank fiercely |auttering a curse scolding him in Moorisha|. The animal hangs his head.3| A slow friendly mockery steals into her eyes)
(with forced speed) I was just going back for that lotion, whitewax, orangeflower water. Shop closes early on Thursdays. But the first thing in the morning …
|3(He points to the east. A cake of |anew, cleana| lemon soap rises diffusing light, and perfume|a, cleana|
I am again. Here we
We're a capital couple are Bloom and I
He brightens the earth I polish the sky
(The face of Sweny the druggist appears in the lemonsoap sun)
(Oilily) One and nine, please.3|
Ti trema un poco il cuore?
(In disdain she saunters away |3|xpoulter pamperedx|3|. He follows, followed by a sniffing |3dog terrier3|. She is gone. The elderly procuress seizes his sleeve. Instinctively he tightens the grip his crubeen and trotter)
bristles of her
into his ear a foetid message) Ten shillings a maidenhead. Fresh thing that was
never touched. Fifteen. (Her mouldy sweat promises secret obscenities. She points to
the doorway. In |3the her3| dark |3aperture den3|, furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands. She calls to him)
Hatch street. Any good in your mind.
|3|xbatshawl |aflappinga| burly porter pursues with booted stridesx|3|
(He thinks of giving the crubeen and trotter to the procuress. Gertyº MacDowell limps to his side. Leering, she draws from behind her something and shows it coyly. It is her bloodied clout)
With all my worldly goods I thee and thou (in a long lingering whisper) You did that.
I? Mistaken identity. I never saw you. When?
(paws his coatsleeve, slobbering) |3You saw |aalla| the secrets of my bottom drawer.3| Dirty married man! I love you for doing that.
|3Ten shillings. |a(to Gerty) Leave the gentleman alone. Streetwalking and soliciting. Better for your mother to take the strap to you|b, hussy like youb|. (|bGerty glides away.b| to B—)a|3| (hurriedly |3her wolfeyes shining3|) Come. Don't be all night. You won't get a virgin in the flash houses. Come before the polis |3in plain clothes3| sees us. Sixtyseven is a bitch.
(Mrs Breen |3in spider's veil,3| stands in the middle of the street |3in a |alargea| frieze gentleman's overcoat with large bellows pockets3|. She throws open her mouth, eyes and arms, astonished)
(astonished) |3Mr Bloom!3| You down here! O, wait till I see Molly. |3(She looks at him roguishly, smiling with large |acarnivorous herbivorousa| buck teeth)3|
(Confused) |3Not so loud. Walls have ears.3| O, how do you do? |3It's ages since I saw you.3| |3Close kind of Seasonable3| weather |3for this time of year3|. |3Black reflects, refracts.3| Short cut home here. Interesting quarter. Molly often (he looks round him) She said once in Thornton's at supper she would prefer a negro servant. |3Othello, a black brute3| Exotic, you see. Livermore minstrels. Haigh's |3Moore Players3|. The Bohee Brothers. |3|xEugene Strattonx|3| Sweep even.
(Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white duck suits, |3scarlet socks, |xlarge scarlet astersx|3| leapº out. Each has a |3Swanee ribber3| banjo slung |3to play3|. |3Their paler smaller |anegroida| hands jangle the |atwingtwanglinga| wires.3| Flashing |3the whites of their eyes their whiteyekaffir eyes3| and teeth they rattle through a breakdown in their clumsy clogs and singing |3back to back3| with smackfatclacking nigger lips)
Tom and Sam
There's someone in the house with Dina.
There's someone in the house, I know.
There's someone in the house with Dina
Playing on the old banjo.
(|3They snatch |athea| black masks from their raw babby faces3| Chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they diddlediddle dance away)
(to Mrs Breen) I was just buying a little snack for supper after the theatre. Leah, Mrs Bandman Palmer. |3Unfortunately threw away the programme3| Rattling good place round there for pigs' feet. Feel how hot.
(with a sour tenderish smile) Would you perhaps like me to embrace you a little? |aLet us have a frivola| |xWe sat on |aTighe's thea| staircase the night of the |aGeorginaa| Simpson's ball |awhile they were playing that Irving Bishop blank about finding the pin blindfolda| |awhen you were Josie Powella|
You didn't find the pin
(screams gaily) O you ruck! You ought just see yourself.
|b(in dinner jacket with watered silk lapels)b| |bYou have I had a soft corner for you.b| |xFor old sake' sake.x| I |bmean only meantb| a mixed mingling of |byour conjugial our different little conjugialsb|, extraconjugially.
(sighs)º The left hand. Nearest the heart.a|3|
|aCarefully, slowly,a| I took the splinter out of your hand. |aCarefully, slowly.a| And when you made your present choice everyone said it was beauty and the beast
|aDenis Breen shuffles past them |bin carpet slippersb|, his dull beard thrust out, muttering |bto himself to right & leftb|. Alf Bergan concealed under the pall of the ace of the spades dogs him to left and right, doubled |bwith inb| laughter.
|aAnd Did youa| kiss the |aplace spota| to make it well.
Molly's best friend! Could you?
(her tongue between her lips) Hnhn. |aThe answer is a lemon.a|
O, I wanted to.3|
(Richie Goulding appears weighted to one side by the black legal bag of Colles and Ward on which a skull and crossbones are painted in white limewash. He opens it and shows it full of polonies, kippered herrings and tightpacked pills)
(stolidly) Best value in Dublin. Eh?
(shouts with laughter) Glory Alice! You do look a holy show. Killing, simply. |3You should just see yourself. O, you ruck!3|
|3(Bald Pat |awho is bothered, bothered beetle,a| answers the question |a|bstands on the curbstone, folding his napkinb| waiting to waita|
|a(murmurs)a| Steak and kidney, bottle of Lager. Hee hee hee. Twopence for me. Wait till I wait.
(emphatically) Goodgod Inev erate inall mylife
(with a shriek of pain, his hand to his back) Ah! Bright's! lights!3|
(cautiously) Don't attract the attention of the public. |3I hate stupid crowds.3| I want to tell you a little secret about how I came to be here. |3It is a very grave predicament3| You must never tell. Not even Molly. I have a most particular reason. |3I am not on pleasure bent3|
(all agog) O, not for worlds.
Let's walk on
(|3Bloom3| Shaking himself free of the procuress walks on with Mrs Breen. The dog slinks at their heels |3|xThe terrier whines piteously, wagging his tailx|3|)
|3(in an oatmeal sporting suit |abuff shirta| |afawn spatsa| |afawn dustcoata| |xtawny red blankx| |xfieldglassesx| grey billycock hat, shepherd's plaid tie, and |acarnation a sprig of woodbinea| in his buttonhole3| (low, mysteriously, with increasing rapidity) Do you remember a long long time ago |3years & years3| just after Milly was weaned when we all went together to Fairyhouse races |3and was it?3|
Of course3| Molly won seven shillings on a horse named Nevertell and coming home |3along by Foxrock3| in the |3old shandaradan ofº a3| wagonette. you were sitting beside me |3You were in your heyday3| and you |3wore had on3| that new hat |3of white velours with a surround of molefur |athat was more in keeping with your complexiona|3| |3Denis bought for you Mrs Galbraith recommended did it on purpose3| that didn't become you |3half ¼3| as well as the |3other the other ducky little tammy3| toque with the |3snipe in it bird of paradise feathers in it |athat was more in keeping with your complexiona| |xI never liked the other stylex| |awith tenderly) though it was a pity to kill it, |byou cruel naughty blankb| little thing with a heart the size of a fullstopa|3| and Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of Mrs Joe Gallaher's lunchbasket and laughing because Rogers and Maggot O'Reilly were mimicking a cock as we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses, the tea merchant, drove past us in a gig with his daughter, Dancer Moses was her name, and the unread poodle in her lap bridled up and you asked me if Iº ever heard or read or came across …
(eagerly) Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.
(She fades from his side. Displeased, mistrustful, he walks on
alone, towards hell's gates. In an archway a standing woman, her feet
planted far apart, pisses cowily. Outside a shuttered pub a group of loiterers
listen to the end of a story which a brokensnouted
relates with rasping humour. To show them he crouches and raucously laughs)
The |3Man Gaffer3|
And |3when the gaffer came along3| what was heº after doing it into only into the bucket of porter that was there for Derwan's plasterers.
(guffawing) O, jays! Jays, that's a good one. Glauber salts. O, jays, into the men's porter.
(They laugh in all voices, indifferent to the scene about them. |3limesplattered with lime and size, their hats paintspeckled. They frisk wearily about their gaffer, bedappled beavers,3| Cheap whores, bold, dishevelled, singly, coupled, call from hallways, doorways, laneways)
— Come here, queer fellow.
— How's your middle leg?
— Got a match on you?
— Eh? Come here till I |3feel stiffen3| it for you.
(Bloom passes through the swamp into the lower street. |3|aA gramophone protrudes from a curtained window From a bulk of bulged windowcurtains a gramophone protrudes upwards a battered brazen trunk.a|3| The housedoors are open. Gaudy dollwomen loll in the lighted halls, about the doors, in the window embrasures, smoking birdseye cigarettes. The odour of the sicksweet weed floats towards and around Bloom in pearly wreaths)
Sweet sweet. Embrace. Of air.
(Ashamed, flattened, he tries to hide his parcel |3The dog sprawls |aobscenelya| on his back |awriggling obscenelya| with begging paws. The dog holds out a long limp black tongue.3|)
can't go back.
have they gone? I could ask. Or let it slide.
crown gone and my back feels rather weak.
with 3rd class
I had not met Mrs
Breenx|3| But this
parcel. Shall I eat it? Where? Get myself all sticky then. Waste.
of the by his
biz here for
Soon got soon
how dogs like me.
Even that brute today.
better to speak to this animal
perceives a dog The dog shoves a cold
snivelling muzzle against his hand
Witha| encouraging words
with a furtive
tread,a| and retreats a few
yards to a dark corner followed by the tracking
holds back the trotter) It feels a
Then I have it in my
left hand of course.
for more effort.b|
perhaps from want of
use or unaccustomed,
which?a| Let it go (he
throws it down
opens the parcel and dumps the crubeen softly in the corner. He would like to
eat the trotter but after an instant lets it fall regretfully. The terrier
the bundle &3|
gluts himself greedily, crunching the bones)º
(Two raincaped watch approach. Eachº lays a hand on Bloom's shoulder)
|3Caught in the act.3| Commit no nuisance.
(Stammers) I am doing good to others. Training by kindness. |3The friend of man.3| (He points. Bob Doran, toppling from a high barstool, sways over the famished dog)
Here, Towser. Give us the paw. Give the paw, doggy.
(The dog |3his scruff standing, a gobbet of pig's knuckle between his |ateeth molarsa|3| growls. Bob Doran falls sideways slowly silently into an area)
|3(A covey of gulls, storm petrels, rises, hungry, famished, from Liffey slime with Banbury cakes in their beaks.
Caw! MawCaw! Caw!3|
I once scolded |aa floatman that trammana| on Rialto bridge for illusing his |apoora| horse |aill with harness scabsa| and got bad language for my pains. Of course it was a frosty night & the last tram. |x(Signor Maffei, |adiamond studsa| deadly, passionpale, in liontamer's costume with curling carriagewhip |aand. He covers the dog with a loadeda| revolver) |aI possess the Indian sign. The glint of my eye does it with these breastsparklers.a| |aMya| Educated greyhounds. I h I broke in the bucking broncho with my patent spiked saddle. |aLash under the belly with a knotted thong.a| Block tackle and strangling pulleys will bring your lion to heel |ano matter how fractiousa|. |aA redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing produced Fritz, the thinking leopard hyena.a| |a(withº a sinister smile)a| I introduce Mademoiselle Ruby, the pride of the ringx|3|
Name and address.
(takes off his |3high grade3| hat, saluting) Bloom, Leopold. |3You have heard of Bloom Pascha. Owns half Austria. Egypt too. |aCousin.a|3| (A card falls from |3inside the leather headband of3| his hat)
(hastily picking up the card) and offering it) Allow me.
(reads) Henry Flower, no fixed abode.
(produces from his heartpocket a faded yellow flower: |3Lady in the case3| he murmurs privately and confidentially his name on watch's shoulder) This is the flower in question. We are engaged, you see. Bloom the flower. The change of name. Virag. |3Way we have in the navy.3|
(thickveiled, |3crimson halter3| in tone of reproach, pointing) Henry! Leopold! Lionel, thou lost one! |3Clear my name3|
(sternly) Come to the station.
(|3in alarm scared3|) No, no. Let me explain, sergeant. Appearances are against me. Wrongfully accused. |3Lesurques & Dubosc of the Lyons Mail. Mistaken identity.3| You remember the Childs murder case. By striking him dead with a hatchet. Fratricide. Better one escape than ninetynine condemned.
(to Bloom) |3|aDisgraceful!a|3| You ought to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself.
|3But Gentlemen of the jury …3| let me explain. |3A pure mare's nest.3| |3|xa man misunderstoodx| |xI am being made a scapegoat of.x|3| My wife, the daughter of |3one of our most distinguished commanders a most distinguished commander3|. |3|aI'm a good Britisher who helped to fight & win our battlesa| I fought at Bloemfontein for king & country; mentioned in dispatches.3| I am a respectable married man |3without a stain on my character3|. I live in Eccles street. I |3am a journalist |aam a journalist from Ringsend follow a literary occupationa|3|. I write for the British and Irish press. |3In fact we are just bringing out a collection of prize stories |aof which I am the author |bsomething entirely new unreadb|a|3| If you ring up ….
(Myles Crawford strides out jerkily. His scarlet face, a homerule sun, blazes within the aureole of his straw hat. He holds a telephone receiver |3|xhank of Span. onionsx|3| to his ear)
Hello! Sevenseven eightfour. Hello! Freeman's Urinal and Weekly Arsewiper here. |3Paralyse Europe3| You which? Who wrote? Bluebags? Is it Bloom?
(Mrº Philip Beaufoy stands in the witnessbox, in accurate morning dress, silk hat|3|x, outbreast pocket with tip of handkerchiefx|3| |3creased3| lavender trousers |3and |xin |atonya| patent bootsx|3|. He carries a large portfolio labelled Matcham's Masterstrokes)
(curtly) |3No, you aren't. |aNot if I know it.a| I don't quite see |athat ita|, that's all. |aNo born gentleman, no-one with the first |brudimentaryb| instincts |xrudimentary promptingsx| of a gentleman would stoop to such perfectly loathsome conducta|3| A |3delinquent plagiarist3|, my lord. |3One of those. It is perfectly obvious that3| He |3has3| cribbed some of my bestselling |3stuff copy, really gorgeous stuff3|, my lord. The Beaufoy books, with which your lordship is doubtless familiar, are a household word throughout the kingdom.
(bravely) It is |3not true to life bad art3|. |3I can prove it.3| |3part about the laughing witch hand in hand I take exception3| |3That passage about the laughing witch I take exception
(clears his throat bravely) It is bad art, not true to life
(|aexclaims shoutsa|) That's a damnably foul lie.
(superciliously |3smiling on court3|) |3You funny ass, you |xI don't think you need |aover excessivelya| to |atrouble yourself too incommodate yourself |btoo muchb| in that regarda|x|3| My literary agent, Mr JB Pinker, is in attendance. I presume we |3are entitled to our shall receive the usual3| witnesses' fees, |3my lord shan't we3|. Time is money. We |3came here at considerable personal inconvenience are considerably out of money |aowing to this |bdelinquent bally pressman |cBloom johnnyc|b|a|3|.
(|3in barrister's grey wig and stiff gown, speaking in a faint voice |aholds appliesa| his handkerchief to his mouth3|) |3My client wishes to make a statement.3| |3His face lengthens, grows pale and bearded, |awith blotches of phthisisa| like that of John X Taylor)3| (he coughs into his handkerchief and examines |3the phlegm a galloping tide of rosepink blood3|) Excuse me, I am suffering from a severe chill. |3|aA few wellchosen words which the pensive bosom has inaugurateda| |aI hold a watching brief for Michelangeoa| |xhe holds solemnly the lapel of his coatx| |a(assuming the avine head, foxy moustaches and nasal voice of Seymour Bushe |bHe steps on to a low plinthb|)a| |aWhen the angel's book comes to be openeda| If aught of soultransfigured & of soultransfiguring deserves to live3|
Can give best references. Messrs Callan, Coleman. Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. Mr V.B. Dillon, ex lord mayor of Dublin. |3I move in the the |abest highesta| circles. The élite.3|
Call the woman Driscoll.
Mary Driscoll, scullery maid.3|
(Mary Driscoll, a slipshod servantgirl approaches with a scouringbrush and bucket)
Another! |3|xunfortunate classx|3| What do you tax him with? |3What is the offence complained of?3|
|3He made a certain suggestion but I thought more of myself, so I did |aas poor as I ama|.3| |3(indignantly) I'm not a bad one. I was in a situation |a£6 a year and |band my chances withb| Fridays outa|. I had to leave owing to his attentions. I am a good character.3| He surprised me from behind in the |3scullery rere of the premises3|, your honour, when the missus was out shopping with a request for the use of a safetypin.
|arepentantly (softly)a| I gave you mementos. Smart garters far above your station. How can you be so unjust. |aThere's a limit to all things.a| I befriended took your part incautiously when you |astayed out late were accused of pilfering part of a cold pork piea|.
(excitedly stands) As God is my judge, if ever I laid a hand on |ait them oylstersa|!3|
He held me and I was discoloured as a
interfered with my clothing, so he did, your honour, till I
took the scouringbrush to him.
You |aassaulted counterassaulteda| me
I had more respect for the scouringbrush I remonstrated with him, your lord, and he remarked: keep it quiet.3|
(Clerk of the Crown and Peace, resonantly) Order in court.
(Bloom begins|3, pleading not guilty,3| a long unintelligible speech |3but is howled down3| |3They would hear what counsel had to say in his stirring address.3| The reporters at the press table murmur that they cannot hear)
|3(in barrister's grey wig and stiff gown, speaking in a faint voice)3| My client is of |3foreign alien3| descent |3& a poor foreign immigrant |aof Mongolian ancestrya|3|. |3|xHis submission isx| |aand such Sucha| familiarities are quite permitted in his native place. |aThe act was due to a momentary aberration of heredity.a| |aThe offence |bcomplained ofb| was not repeateda| It is not alleged that |athe girl had been tampered with ora| intimacy |aoccured took placea| |xI can produce rebutting evidence in the witnessbox to show that the hidden hand is again at its old game. When in doubt persecute Bloom.x|3| No-one regrets more than he that |3the a3| girl |3who |ahas taken tooka| the wrong turning3| is in trouble |3and he would be the last man in the world to cast a stone at a poor girlº who took &c3| and |3|x& I say it emphaticallyx|3| he is willing to |3go straight3| do the right thing. He is down on his luck at present. His extensive property at Agendath Netaim, Asia Minor, |3the land of the Pharaoh3| is in the market. He can produce vouchers from the district, rentrolls photographic views. He tenders |3five shillings a penny in the pound3|. |3My client wishes to make a statement.3|
|xI des |aPity me. Have pity on me.a| |aI intend to reforma| I am a seven months' child. |aaged parenta| |aI am down & outa| I want to lead a simple life, homely, pure, affectionate surroundings.x| |xloveful |ahouseholds homesteadsa| youthful scholars grappling with their pensums |areciting the family rosarya|x| |xin boreens & green lanesx| |xthe organtoned melodeonx|3|
|3|xThis is not a place for levityx| |xbeargardenx| |xtravesty of justicex| |xSonambulex|3|
(hoarsely) Bleibtreustrasse, Berlin. W. 13.
Mrs Brereton Barry
(in a |3lowcut low corsage3| opal balldress |3elbowlength ivory gloves |awith brick dolmana|3|) Arrest him, constable. He wrote me |3in disguised handwriti backhand3| an anonymous letter when my husband was on |3the Leinster3| circuit, signed James Lovebirch. He said he saw me |3from theº gods3| at La Cigale in a box of the theatre Royal, that |3I my peerless globes3| deeply inflamed him. He made improper overtures to me |3to misconduct myself3|. He offered to send me a work ofº fiction by Paul de Kock entitled The Girl with the Three Pairs of Stays.
(in a |3sealskin seal3| mantle |3wrapped to nose3| and cap steps out of her brougham |3and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses3|) Also to me |3I believe it is the same person3| because he closed my carriage door one rainy day outside sir Thornley Stoker's. He enclosed a sprig of edelweiss, culled he said |3on the heights3| in my honour. I had it examined by a student of botany and |3it turned out to be a elicited the information that it was |athe aa| common or garden3| blossom of the potato plant purloined from the model farm.
|3A crowd of ragamuffins and sluts surges forward
The Sluts and Ragamuffins
(scream) |aHurrah there, duckstool!a| Three cheers for Ikey Mo! Stop thief!3|
(produces handcuffs) Here are the darbies.
He addressed me with fulsome compliments as a Venus in furs though his allusions |3to of3| my |3cockaded3| coachman |3in Joseph's3| |3the fleecy3| sheepskins seemed |3to me beside the point objectionable to me3|. He praised almost extravagantly my nether extremities and, my swelling calves |3in silk hose drawn up to the limit |aand other hidden treasures |bpriceless lace he could imagineb|a|3|. He urged me to |3defile the marriage bed,3| commit adultery at the earliest possible opportunity.
Theº Honourable Mrs Paget Butler
(in riding costume, |3|xAmazon costume, spurs, fawn musketeer glovesx|3| |3and |afoounread fura| |acockspurreda| |xjeanx| top boots |awith spursa| |avermilion hunting jacket,a|3| hard hat, long train and huntingcrop with which she strikes her welt constantly) Also me. |3That is the person.3| |3He This plebian3| saw me on the polo |3ground blank3| in the Phoenix park |3at the match All Ireland versus the Rest of Ireland. My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain |aSloggera| Dennehy of the 11th Inniskillings Hussars win the final chukka3|. He sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph insulting to any lady. I have it still. He urged me to |3misbehave3| sin with officers of the garrison. He implored me to chastise him as he |3richly3| deserves |3|xmost vicious whippingx|3|.
Mrs Brereton Barry
(joins his hands) It was your beauty |abrought me up to high pitch of tensiona|.
(|ahis eyes closing,a| quailing |ain expectationa|) Not here. |aAll these people.a| Another time. It's the idea. It was unread spanking without effusion.x| |xto bring out the dormant tigress in your naturex|3|
The Honourable Mrs Paget Butler
|3O, did you, my fine fellow Well you'll get |aa the most unmercifula| hiding now |afrom me believe me,a| you never bargained for. I'll lash him.3| (in sudden fury |3stamping her jingling spurs3|) I will, by the God above me. |3I'll scourge the pigeonlivered cur.3| I will flay him alive. |3A dog. |aPig. Pigdog to |bassume tob| address mea|3| I will thrash him black and blue in the public streets. |3|xshuddersx| I will dig myº spurs |asavagelya| into him up to the rowel.3| He is a wellknown cuckold (she swishes her huntingcrop |3wickedly3| in the air) Take down his trousers without loss of time. Quick!
(The brass quoits of a bed are heard to jingle)
— Jigjag. Jigajiga. Jigjag.
(A panel of the mist rolls back rapidly revealing rapidly in the jury box the faces of Martin Cunningham, |3foreman, silkhatted,3| Jack Power, Simon Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Henry Menton, Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and a Nameless One)
The Nameless One
(snarls) Bareback riding. |3Weight for age.3| Gob, he organised her. |3Arse over tip. Hundred to five.3|
(|atheir heads all inclined all their heads turneda| to his voice) Really
The Nameless One
(snarls) Arse over tip. Hundred shillings to five.3|
The |3Others Jury3|
(|3all3| bow in grave assent) Most of us thought as much.
It is Jack the Ripper. |aA marked man:a| £1000 reward.3|
(awed, whispers). He is in black. |3A mormon.3| An anarchist incog. That is his infernal machine |3with a time fuse3|. A bomb.
(desperately) No, no. Pig's feet. I was at a funeral.
(draws his truncheon) Liar!
(Theº dog lifts his snout. He has |3devoured gnawed3| all. He grows to human size and shape. His terrier coat becomes a brown mortuary habit. His red eyes flash bloodshot. He has the |3grey scorbutic3| face of Paddy Dignam |3with half of one ear, |aboth thumba| and all the nose |aeaten away ghouleatena|3|)
(in a hollow voice) It is true. It was my funeral. Doctor
Finucane pronounced life extinct
on the instanta| I
succumbeda| to the
(He lifts an ashen |3mutilated3| face and bays lugubriously)
(triumphantly) You see! |3A mare's nest.3|
How is that possible?
It is not in the |3penny3| catechism.
By metempsychosis. |3Spooks.3|
(in musical derision) O rocks!
(earnestly) |3Hard lines.3| Once I was in the employ of Mr John Henry Menton, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits. |3Bachelor's Walk.3| Two pounds fifteen a week |3|aHard lines on the poor wife. How is the poor wife taking it?a| She was awfully cut up. But keep her |aoff away froma| the bottle.3| (he looks round him). A lamp. I want to micturate. That buttermilk |3didn't agree with me3|. |3He stops. He places his ear to the ground.3|
(The portly figure of the caretaker, John O'Connell, stands forth with a bunch of keys and a gramophone trumpet |3veiled in crape3|. Beside him is Father Coffey, chaplain, |3toadbellied, wrynecked,3| in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, holding limply a butterfly net |3then with a rook's beak hoarsely croaks3|)
(yawning |3toadbellied3|:) Naminedamine. |3Vobiscum. Vobiscuits.3| Amen.
(calls stormily through his |3craped3| trumpet).º Dignam, Patrick T. Burial docket |3letter3| number U.P. eightyfivethousand and four. Field seventeen. |3House of Keyes3| Plot. One hundred and nine.
(Paddy Dignam listens intently, with visible effort, thinking, his hears ears cocked |3his tail stiffpointed3|)
My master's voice. Pray for the repose of my soul.
(He worms down through a coalhole |3his brown mortuary habit trailing after him3|. His voice is heard baying muffled in the hole. Dignam's dead and gone below. |3His brown mortuary habit |a& dragropesa| trails after him |ain a long tethera|. After him toddles |aover rattling pebblesa| an obese grandfather rat on fungous turtle legs under a deathgrey carapace3| Tom Rochford, in cap, |3redbreasted3| scarlet waistcoat and breeches, jumps out from his twocolumned machine. With a hand on his breast he bows)
|3He fixes the manhole with a resolute stare3| My turn now |3on3|. |3Follow me3| Up to Carlow. |3Reuben J. A florin I find him!3|
(He executes a |3bold daredevil3| salmon leap in the air and disappears down a coalhole. At the top of each column of the machine two discs, marked with the figure nought, wobble their eyes.
All recedes. Bloom goes forward again. Kisses are chirped to him. A piano sounds. He stands before a house listening. The kisses|3, winging from their bower,3| fly about him twittering, warbling, cooing)
(warbling) Leo! (twittering) Icky licky micky sticky for Leo! (cooing) Coo coocoo! Yummyum womwom! (warbling) Big, come big! Pirouette! |3Leopopold!3| (twittering) Leeolee! (warbling) O, Leo!
|3(they warble, flutter upon his garments in |alighta| flecks of light, silver sequins)3|
A man's touch that is. Perhaps they are here. Sad music. Church music.º Yes, it is here.
(Zoe Higgins, a young whore in a sapphire slip, closed with |3two three3| bronze buckles, nods, trips down the steps and accosts him.)
Are you looking for someone? He's inside with his friend.
Is this Mrs Mack's?
No, Mrs Cohen's. |3813| You might go farther and fare worse. |3(familiarly)3| Mother Slipperslapper. She's on the job tonight with her |3swellmobsman3| auctioneer working overtime. |3(suspiciously)3| You're not his father, are you?
|3(|aHis skin, alert, feels her fingertips approach.a| Her hand slides on over his |alefta| thighs)
How's |byour theb| nuts?
(smiling) Not there, my child(?). Curiously they are on the right. One in a |bthousand millionb|, my tailor says. Messias.a|
(in sudden alarm) You've a hard chancre!
(indignantly) Not likely.
I feel it.
(Her hand slides into his left trouserpocket and brings out a hard black shrivelled potato. She regards it and Bloom with dumb moist lips)
It is |aa an heirloom, aa| talisman.
(She |3takes links3| his arm, cuddling him |3suppley3|. Strange oriental music is played, note by note, slowly. He |3looks gazes3| |3into her brown in the tawny crystal of her |aospreya| eyes3| eyes, ringed with kohol. Gazelles are leaping, feeding on the mountains. Near are lakes. Black shadows of cedarforests file around them. Aroma rises, a strong hairgrowth of resin. It burns, the orient, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the bronze flight of eagles. Under it the womancity lies, nude, white, cool in luxury. A fountain murmurs among purple |3damask3| roses. Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes. A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring)
I never loved a dear gazelle But was sure to ….3|
|3You'll know me the next time3| (murmuring, her lips lusciously smeared with |3pomade salve3| of swinefat and rosewater, in singsong with the music) Schorach ani wenowach, benoith Hierushaloim.
|3(fascinated)3| I |3knew thought so3|.
And you know what thought did?3|
You know what thought did3|
(|3|xZ bites LB's earx|3| She smiles, showing her goldstopped teeth, sending out a cloying breath. The roses draw apart, disclose a sepulchre where lie the gold of kings, their mouldering bones)
(mechanically caressing her left bub) Are you a Dublin girl?
(catches a stray hair deftly and twists it to her coil) Not bloody much. I'm English. Have you a swaggerroot?
(as before) I rarely smoke, dear, I'm sorry. Cigar now and then. |3It's a childish device (lewdly) The mouth is better occupied than with a cylinder of rank grass.3| |3(Suddenly in despair) Mankind is incorrigible. America, you know, |aSir Walter Raleigh broughta| gave us the potato and tobacco, |aonea| a food and |athe othera| a poison |afor the ear, the eye, the heart, the memory, the |xvirile potencyx| all.a| The latter came a hundred years before the famine. Suicide. All our habits. |aMachines, laboursaving, they called them once, to murder one another. Better invent a platewasher. Manufacturing |bmonsters juggernautsb|.a| Our lies. For instance romance about woman & man. Love. What is it. A cork and a bottle. It doesn't interest me.
|a(sneers)a| |aHonest?a| Till the next time. |a(sneers)a| I suppose you came too soon with |asomeone your |bbestb| girla|. I hate people that are not sincere. |a(distantly) (in sudden sulks)a| If you don't want who's forcing you. Give a bleeding whore a chance
(penitently) I am very disagreeable.3| Where are you from? London?
Hog's Norton. Where the pigs play the organs. |3(she holds his hand which is feeling for her nipple)3| I say, Tommy Tittlemouse. Stop that |3(she holds his hand which is feeling for her nipple)3| and begin worse. Have you cash for a short time? Ten shillings?
(smiles, nods slowly) More, more.
(|afeels |bdoubtfully the dubiously hisb| occipital lobesa| with unparalleled embarrassment of a harassed pedlar gauging her symmetry (her peeled pears) if I did somebody would be dreadfully jealous if she knew
|a(flattered)a| What the eye |adoesn't can'ta| see the heart can't grieve for.
Little laughing witch |ahand in handa|3|
(He stands awhile listening to the music, inhaling scents, seeing colours, feeling |3temptation |alured the lurea| to doom3|) Silent means consent.
|3|aHe eyes the fluid slipa| He counts her bronze buckles.
(|3He hesitates, unwilling to be seen.3| |3|xShe places her left handx| With little |aparteda| fingers talons she captures his hand3| She leads him to the steps, drawing him by the odour of her armpits, the vice of her painted eyes, the rustle of her slip in |3which whose sinuous folds3| lurks the lion reek of all male brutes that have possessed her)
Theº Male Brutes
(|3roaring faintly |aramping in their looseboxa| faintly roaring3|) Good!
(Zoe and Bloom reach the doorway where two sister whores are seated. They examine him curiously, lazily from under their pencilled brows and at last smile to his hasty bow)
(at the threshold stands aside) After you is good manners.
Ladies first, gentlemen after.
(She goes into the house. He still hesitates. She turns and, holding out her hands, draws him over the threshold. |3He trips. |aShe Her adroit hold blanka| saves him instantly.
3| On the antlered hatrack |3dragon stick3| in the hall hangs a man's strawhat. |3Parrot perched in hall.3| |3On a gueridon a running fox with blank displays his coat and brush and mild spaniel eyes.3| A door on the return landing is flung open. A man in shirt and trousers passes. His braces, dangling, give him the gait of a twotailed ape. Bloom, averting his face, follows Zoe into the parlour. |3He lays his hat on a chair and stands, smiling awkwardly, sometimes preoccupied.3| A shade of mauve tissuepaper dims the light. Round and round a moth flies collding against the shade. |3The floor is |acovered stampeda| with a linoleum mosaic of jade and ver azure and cinnabar geometries. Footmarks are stamped upon it in all senses, heel to heel, heel to hollow, toe to toe, |aheels feeta| locked, a morris of shuffling |afeet phantomsa|, diversing, setting to, all in a scrimmage, higgledypiggledy.3| On the mantelshelf lie two large China dogs. On the flanks of each is painted a woodland glade. Between them stands a vase of peacock feathers. In the grate is spread a Japanese parasol screen. Lynch sits crosslegged before the hearth on a rug of matted hair. His cap is back to the front. With a wand he beats time slowly to the music. Kitty Ricketts, a bony pallid whore in street costume, |3sued doeskin gloves rolled back & coral wristlet with a chain purse,3| sits on the edge of a table, swinging her leg. Lynch indicates mockingly the couple at the piano)
(behind her hand) She's a little imbecillic (Lynch tilts up her skirt and white petticoat with his wand.) She settles her skirt down quickly) Respect yourself. (She hiccups, bending quickly her sailor hat under which her hair glows, red with henna) O, excuse!
More limelight, Charley (she goes to the chandelier and turns the gas fullº cock) Clap on the back for Zoe.
(The wand in Lynch's hand flashes: it is a brass poker. Stephen Dedalus stands by the piano on which lie his ashplant and stick. He repeats once more the series of empty fifths. Florrie Talbot, a blond feeble goosefat whore in a tatterdemalion gown of mildewed strawberry, lolls spreadeagle in a sofacorner, |3her limp forearm pendent over the bolster,3| listening, a heavy stye drooping over her sleepyº eyelid)
(hiccups again) O, excuse.
(promptly) Tie a knot on the tail of your shift. |3Your boy is thinking of you.3|
(Kitty Ricketts bends her head again quickly. A feather boa uncoils, slides, glides over her shoulder, back, arms, chair to the ground. It lies, a coiled unheeded catterpillar. Stephen glances behind at the squatted figure with its cap back to the front)
As a matter of fact it is of no importance whether Benedetto Marcello found it or made it. The rite is the poet's rest. It may be an ancient Greek song to Demeter or it may illustrate the eighteenth psalm Coeli enarrant gloriam Domini. It is susceptible of nodes, I mean of modes so far apart as the hyperphrygian and the mixolydian, of texts so divergent as the haihooping of priests round David's, round Ceres', altar and David's tip from the stable to his chief bassoonist concerning God's glory: Mais, nom d'un nom, that is another pair of trousers, as they say in France. Faut que jeunesse se passe. |3Jetez votre gourme.3| (He stops, points at Lynch's cap, smiles, laughs) Which side is your knowledge bump?
Bah! It is because. It is because it is. Woman's reason. Jewgreek is greekjew. Extremes meet. Death is the highest form of life. Bah!
You remember quite accurately all my little errors, boasts, mistakes. How long more must I close my eyes to your disloyalty, to his. Whetstone!
Which? Finish if you can.
(with an effort) Interval which is. The greatest possible elipse. Consistent
with. The ultimate return. Octave. Which.
(abruptly) What went forth to traverse not itself, God, the sun, a commercial traveller, having itself traversed in reality itself becomes that self. Wait a moment. Wait a second. That self which it itself was ineluctably preconditioned to become. I mean …
(|3in with3| a mocking whinny of laughter, grins at Zoe Higgins) What a learned speech, eh?
(briskly) God help your head. He knows more than you have forgotten.
(Florrie Talbot with obese stupor regards Stephen)
But what does it all mean? Everything. What is it?
It is the system of Antisthenes the embittered and Saint Thomas Porcupine (delighted with his own politeness) He asked himself that very question. |3You are a person for me not necessarily a neuter substantive though you are a bad conductor of emotions.3|
(to her sister whores) They say the end of the world will be this summer.
(explodes in laughter) Great unjust God!
(slightly offended) Well, it was in the papers.
|3Ragged barefoot newsboys |arun pattera| past, yelling)
Stop press edition! Result of the Rockinghorse Races! Seaserpent in the royal canal! |a|bSafeb| Arrival of Antichrist.a|3|
|3(|aThe wandering jewa| Reuben J |aAntichrista|, tall, blackbearded, |aspinecurveda| |ahis aa| clutching hand open on his spine back, stumps forward. |aA wallet of Across his shoulders is slung a wallet from which protrude promissory notes & dishonoured bills.a| As a pilgrim's staff he holds up aloft over his shoulder a long boatpole from the crook ofº which the sodden huddled mass of his only son, saved from Liffey waters, sprawls from the slack of its breeches)3|
(A hobgoblin, in the form of Punch Costello |3with &un2023dAlly Sloper nose3|, hipshot, crookbacked, hydrocephalic, prognatic |3with receding brow3| tumbles through a gathering darkness with a hop, step and jump.
Who is this? A kangaroo? |3Contortionist.3|
(The hobgoblin, |3puffing3| his eyes blindfolded, |3runs |asuddenlya| capers3| to and fro, squeaking, |3rubber3| hopping with outstretched clutching arms. His lipless face grins |3wagging between the fork of his legs3|)
|3(his jaw chattering)3| Messieurs et dames, c'est moi, l'homme qui rit, l'homme primigène (He begins to whirl round with dervish howls) Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux! (tiny planets in the form of coloured roulette balls fly whizzing out of his |3juggling catching3| hands) |3La jeu est fait. Les jeux sont faits.3| (The roulette planets rush together with a series of crepitant cracks) Rien va plus. |3(The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and away)3|
(in dull stupor) The end of the world.
(A female tepid effluvium leaks out from her, obfuscating the sight of all, redolent of her oozing sex. |3The obscurity of the last day Obscurity3| occupies space). A rocket rushes up the universe and bursts, |3A white star falls from it and glides through space. Behind each stands a dark watchful young man who gives to each a throwaway —3| proclaiming the last day |3and the coming of Elijah3|. Whirring, creakily |3along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir3| the End of the World, a twoheaded octopus in highland |3gillie's3| kilts, busby and filibegs careers whirling |3head over heels3| through the murk in the form of the Three Legs of the Isle of Man)
The End Of The World
(with a marked Scotch accent) Wha'll dance the keel row, the keel row, the keel row?
Just one word more. |3|aJake Crane, Creole Sue, |bDave Campbell, Abe Kirschner,b|a| No yapping please inº this booth. |aDo your coughing with your mouths shut.a| |xHere, I am operating all |atrunka| lines. The non-stop run.x|3| Are you a god or a clod? |3|xIf the 2nd Advent come to Tyrone street are you ready?x|3| Florrie Christ, Stephen Christ, Zoe Christ, Bloom Christ, Lynch Christ, Kitty Christ, it's up to you to sense that cosmic force. |3Boys, do it now. Book through to eternity junction, |aRush your order |band |cyou'll youc| play a slick aceb|.a|3| Are you all in this vibration? |3I say you are.3| Join on right |3now here3|. |3You have that something within, the Higher Self3| Be a prism. You once nobble that, congregation, and a |3two buck3| joyride to heaven becomes a back number. It is immense. |3It is sumptious Supersumptious3|. |3|aIt's just the cutest snappiest line out.a| It's a lifebrightener, sure. |aIt is the whole pie with jam ina|3| It restores. It vibrates. I know and I am some vibrator. Joking apart |3& getting down to bedrock3|, A J Christ Dowie and theº harmonial philosophy. |3address Buildings, 777 East Sixty Ninth street,3| Have you got that? Right! |3O.K.3| You call me up by sunphone any old time.
In the beginning was the word. |3Our world's a novelette. In the end was the world |awithout enda|. Blessed be the eight |abeatitudes Beatitudesa|, who are the students Dixon, Madden.
Students in white surgical overalls tramp |agoosesteppinga| rapidly past, four abreast)
|a(incoherently)a| Beer beef |abusiness bullinessa| bibles |abulldogs battleship buggery bishopsa|3|
(appears in quaker grey with kneebreeches and broadbrimmed hat) Se He is our friend. I need not mention names. Seek the light.
(Best enters in barber's costume, shinily laundered, with |3curly3| locks |3in curlpapers3|. He leads John Eglinton |3|xchinlessx| in Chinese |amandarina| costume |aunreadlettered |bbeetlettered lizardletteredb|a| |a|bblack Am yellowb|a| kimono and |amandarin's pagodaa| hat3| who |3has a pinkstriped bib wears a Nankin yellow blank3| tucked under his chin. His face is profusely lathered. His hair bristles with brilliantine)
(smiling |3lifts the hat and reveals aº shaven poll |afrom the crown of which rises a bristling toupee tied with an orange |bbow topknotb|a|3|) I was just beautifying him, don't you know. A thing of beauty, don't you know, Yeats says, or I mean, Keats.
(produces a greencapped dark lantern from under his bib and flashes it towards a corner |3with carping accent3|) Esthetics and cosmetics are for the boudoir. I am out for truth. Plain truth for a plain man. Tanderagee wants the truth and means to get it |3too3|.
(In the cone of the |3lanternlight searchlight3| the bearded figure of Mananaun macLir rises. A cold seawind blows from his mantle. About his head eels writhe. He is encrusted with limpets, barnacles, shells and seaweed. His right grasps a bicycle pump. In his left hand he holds a huge crayfish by its two talons)
(with a voice of waves) Aum!
Wal Ak Lub Mor
yoghin of the gods! Occult Pimander of Hermes Trismegistos! (with a voice of the
seawind) Punarjanam Patsy Punjaub!
won't have my leg
been said by one3|
Beware the left, the cult of Shakti! (with a voice of stormbirds) Shakti Shiva!
(He strikes with his
bicycle pump the crayfish in its left hand. On its cooperative dial glow
the twelve signs of the zodiac. He wails with the vehemence of the ocean) Aum! Baum! Pyjaum! I am the light of the homestead! I am the creamery butter!
(The green light changes to mauve. Zoe's face emerges under the lamp)
Who has a fag? (Lynch offers her a cigarette. Sheº stretches up to light it over the gasjet. With his poker he lifts up a side of her gown boldly. Bare from her garters up her flesh appears beneath the sapphire a lizard green.)
(puffs calmly) Can you see the beauty spot of my behind?
I'm not looking. |3Seeing is believing.3|
|3(makes great eyes)3| No. You wouldn't do a less thing. Would you suck a lemon?
(She |3glances |acloses her eyes in shame and thena| squints3| with sidelong meaning at Bloom, then twists round towards him |3pulling her gown3| clear of the poker. |3Her gown |afalls, falling, flowsa| about her flesh in fluid folds. The blue fluid of her gown glows again, covering her flesh.3| Kitty Ricketts licks her middle finger and smooths both eyebrows carefully with her spittle. |3On gawky pink stilts |x|asausageda| several coatsx| struts3| |3Litpold Lipoti3| Virag, Bloom's double, wearing Stephen's hat, Buck Mulligan's primrose vest and a brown mackintosh under which he hugs two ancient |3legal3| volumes stands somewhat to Bloom's left |3|xCashel Boyle O——x| In his right eye flashes the angry eyeglass of Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell. Two quills project over his ears.3|)
|3(heels together, bows) My name is Virag |aLipoti, basilico-grammatea|.3| (coughs |3thoughtfully3|, points to Zoe Higgins and says drily) A lot of promiscuous nakedness |3knocking about is much in evidence hereabouts3|, what? |3You perceive Inadvertently she has revealed the fact3| that she is not wearing |3what you like so much those |arather intimatea| garments |aof which you are a particular devoteea|3| Number two on the other hand |3whose hair owes not a little to our tribal elixir of gopherwood3| is in walking costume and I always understood that the act so performed |3with glimpses of lingerie3| attracted you by reason of its exhibitionistic procedure. Am I right? |3Hippogriff.3|
(looks at Kitty Ricketts) But she is lean.
(not unpleasantly). Well observed. And those pannier pockets of the skirtsº |3& slightly pegtop effect3| are intended to give the |3illusion blank3| of |3breath bunchiness3| of hip. All meretricious finery to deceive the eye. |3She has |ajust unnecessarily urgentlya| bought it. Observe her close attention to details of dustspecks. Some mug |agulla| paid was mulched for its price. Never put on you tomorrow what you can wear today. Parallax. Polysyllabax.3|
She |3is seems3| sad.
(cynically |3his weasel teeth bared yellow3|) A hoax. Beware of |3flappers and3| the |3bogus3| mournful |3languid unsophisticated3| type, lily of the alley. |3Chameleon3| (more genially) Well then, |3permit me to draw your attention3| |3the third no 3 on the list3| |3with the |amass ofa| oxygenated |ahair vegetable mattera| on her skull3|. |3There is plenty of her3| Although the ugly duckling of the party her beam is broad. She is coated with quite a considerable layer of fat. |3Obviously mammal,3| You perceive |3remark3| that she has in front |3|xwell to the forex|3| two protuberances of respectable dimensions while on her rere lower down are two other protuberances which leave nothing to be desired except compactness. Such |3fleshy parts3| women are the products of careful nurture. When coopfattened their livers attainº an elephantine size. Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and gumbenjamin swamped down by draughts of green tea endow them with natural cushions of a quite colossal blubber. |3The sensitivity is blunt but as you may discover with a pin.3| That suits your book, eh?
The stye I dislike.
(|3raises arches3| his eyebrows) Contact with a goldring, they say. For the rest woman's sovereign remedy. |3Not for sale, for hire only. Huguenot.3| (with an encouraging cough) But possibly it is only a wart. I presume you remember what I told you on that subject. Wheatenmeal with honey and nutmeg.
(reflecting) |3It This searching ordeal3| has been a fatiguing, a most unusual day. |3|xchapter of accidentsx|3| Wait. Bloodwarts, I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, youº said. |3He stands smiling desiriously, twirling his thumbs3|
(severely) Exercise your mnemotechnic. Stop twirling yr thumbs.
|3Was I?3| |3Did I understand you to say3| Rosemary also. Mnemo?
Technic (he taps his volumes energetically) |3Have a good think. I am going to talk about amputation. |aThis book tells you how to act with all descriptive particulars.a| Our old friend3| Caustic. They must be starved. Snip off with a horsehair under the denned neck. But to change the venue have you made up your mind yet whether you like or dislike women in male costume? |3Pomegranate.3| (with a dry |3sneer snigger3|) You intended one entire year to the study of the religious problem |3|x1866 1882x| square circle & win that million3|. From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step. Pyjamas, let us say, or those complicated combinations, camiknickers.
(Bloom looks uncertainly at the three whores, then at the mauveveiled light, hearing the everflying moth. Virag, turning the pages of his volumes, prompts into his ear in a pig's whisper. Bloom repeats here and there with silent lips)
|3(his yellow parrotbeak gabbling nasally |ahis glowworm's chimp nose running over the lettersa|)3| Insects of the day spend their brief existence chiefly in reiterated coition. The smell of the female lures them|3, you shall find3|. |3|aPretty Polla|3| |3One recalls the They have a proverb in the Carpathians. One tablespoonful of |a|bchoice |cfirst choicec|b|a| honey attracts more flies than half a dozen barrels of first choice malt vinegar. But this apart.3| But night insects like this one, which follow light follow an illusion. |3|xTechnicx|3| |3Remember too their complex unajustable eye.3| |3|xSome there are whosex|3| Their movements are automatic. They no longer pursue, seize and fecundate the female. |3Pretty Poll.3| |3What ho, she bumps!3| |3See. Perceive.3| That is his sun, a midnight sun. It suits him. Nightbird nightsun. |3Chase me, Charley. Jimmy sitting knitting in her chinashop. Jimmy shitting knitting knittinshitten in her chinashop. Garn!3| (Still turning the pages he whispers more loudly and rapidly) |3Metempsychosation!3|
(repeats). Yes. That bee too the other day was butting
against his shadow on the wall. Finally he dazed himself and drowsed me. Then in
a dazed condition he wandered down into my shirt and reached my belly. Yes, it was well I awoke.
(his face impassive laughs in a rich feminine key) |3Spanish fly in his fly.3| Put some life in it. |3Red bank oysters will |asoon shortlya| be upon us. These succulent bivalves and the truffle are excellent for general debility. Though they stink yet they sting.3| |3(with mali |acacklinga| raillery) Jocular. With my eyeglass in my ocular.3|
Naturally a woman's case is worse. That is why they fear all vermin, all creeping things. They feel themselves always open. Yet we have Eve and the serpent. One of those contradictions. Well, first of all, it is not a historical fact. Also the reason is obvious. Those serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. Wind their way through miles of forest to suck her breast dry. Just like a baby.
(|3cranes his neck forward3| his finger pointed on a page) Cows with distended udders have been known.
I beg your pardon? Ah. So. Spontaneously to seek out the saurian's lair in order to entrust their teats to his avid suction. (profoundly) Instinct leads us all. In life. Death too. That moth there.
I'm a tiny tiny thing
Ever flying in the spring
Round and round a ringaring.
Long ago I was a king
Now I do this sort of thing
On the wing, on the wing.
(He rushes against the red mauve tissuepaper, flapping noisily)
Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty petticoats.
(|3From left upper entrance with two gliding steps3| Henry Flower |3stands |aglides forward comesa| noiselessly to left front centre3| on Bloom's right. He unread wears a drooping black sombrero and a black velvet cloak under which he holds a dulcimer. He wears black velvet hose, stockings and shoes with silver buckles. He has the romantic saviourlike facial expression, trimmed beardº and moustache, spindle legs and pointed feet of the tenor Mario, prince of Candia. He touches softly seven notes of his instrument)
(in a low voice)
is lost now
There is a flower that bloometh.
When autumn leaves are shed.3|
(gratingly) See Se el yilo nebrakada femininum amor me solo, sanktus Amen3|
(Virag stares at the lamp. Bloom regards Zoe's neck. Henry turns to the piano)
(to himself) |3Imitate pa.3| Play the piano with your eyes shut. |3Imitate pa.3| |3|aFilling my belly with the husks of swine. I will arise & go to my father'sa|3| Steve, thou art in a parlous way. I am partially drunk (he touchesº the keys again) |3Minor chord comes now, yes.3| Not much however. |3Sing.3|
(Almidano Artifoni holds up a roll of music with vigorous black moustachework)
Sing us |aa song somethinga|. Love's old sweet song.3|
Ci rifletta. Lei rovina tutto.
No voice. Lynch, who was it did I show you the letter about the lute?
(smirking) The bird that can sing and won't sing.
(|3Two Oxford Dons |xBack to back,x| the Siamese Twins3|, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober, |3Oxford dons,3| each masked with Matthew Arnold's face, each with a lawnmower, appear at the window)
(severely) Take a fool's advice. Work it out with the buttend of a pencil. Three pounds twelve you got. Mooney's en Ville, Mooney's sur Mer, the Moira, Larchet's, Holles street hospital, Burke's. Eh? I am watching you.
(impatiently) Ah, |3nonsense bosh3|, man. Go to hell. If I could find out about octaves. Who was it told me his name? (his lawnmower begins to hum) Aha! Yes. Zoe, mou sas agapo. Have a notion I was here before. |3I expect this is the.3| Decidedly. When was it, not Atkinson, his card I have somewhere, Mac Somebody, Unmock, I have it, he told me about, hold on, Swinburne, was it, no.
And the song.
Are you out of Maynooth?
Out of it now. (to himself) Clever. By the way, have you the clock, the watch, the stick? (he sees it). Yes.
(dazedly) You're like someone I knew once.a|
Philips Drunk and Sober
(their mowers purring |awith rigadoon grasshalmsa|) |aKeep in condition. Do like us.a| Clever |aevera|. Out of it out of it. By the way have you the clock, the watch, the stick? Yes, there it, yes.3|
There was a priest down here on Monday to do his bit of business with his coat buttoned up. You needn't try to hide, I says to him, I know you've a Roman collar.
(harshly|3, his multicoloured plumage moulting3|) |3|xTo hell with the popex|3| Nothing new under the sun. Read |3my Sex Secrets3| The Monks and the Maidens. |3(with diabolic rictus |xluminosityx| |ablackvisaged a foam of yellow spawn on his blackening visagea|) |xA son of a whorex| |xShe sold |alove philtresa| whitewax ointments, orangeflower lotions.x| Verfluchte Goim. |aFlipperty Jippert.a| |aHe never existed. He was Judas Jacchia paid by the pope.a| He had a father, forty fathers. Panther the Roman |asoldier centuriona|, |ahaving proposed |bat the unreadellob| polluted hera| burst her tympanum
(|ayodelsa| in base barreltone |anakkering castagnette fingersa|) When love absorbs my ardent soul … (he stops and laughing smites his thigh
Hold that fellow with the bad breeches.
(in abundant laughter) Hold him now
3| Do as you please but |3face facts look facts in the face3|. |3Apocalypse.3| Good night. (He retires to the door) |3and deftly |ain goinga| claps sideways on the wall a pusyellow flybill
|aK/11a| |xPost No Billsx| Strictly Confidential. Dr Hy Franks.
(at the door, opens his flat yellow nosebeak) Quack! (he disappears)3|
(his hand on his head)
is peace in a nunnery.
Thine heart, mine love.
All is lost now.3|
(He combs his |3hair,3| beard and moustache rapidly with a pocket comb |3gives a cow's lick to his locks,3| and follows Virag quietly |3steered by his rapier3|
(to Zoe) I hope you gave his reverence |3your3| absolution.
Nine glorias for shooting a bishop.3|
(spouting her smoke) He couldn't get connection. Only, you know. Sensation. A dry rush.
(involuntarily) O! Poor man!
(lightly) Only for what happened him.
The flesh is willing but the spirit is weak.3|
And Mary Shortall that was in the Lock with the pox she got from Jimmy Pidgeon, corporal in the blue caps. And she had a bastard that couldn't swallow and died strangled.
The illustrious Metchnikoffº has just inoculated anthropoid ape
Such is life in an
(nods) That's locomotor ataxy.
(mockingly) O, my dictionary! My fellow puffed like a locomotive.
(over his shoulder) You would have preferredº the founder of the protestant error.
All one and the same God to me.
(devoutly) Sovereign Lord of all things. (to Florrie Talbot indicating Stephen) Beware of him. He's a spoiled priest.
Yes. A cardinal's son.
(His Eminence, cardinal Simon |3Stephen cardinal3| Dedalus, appears in the doorway. He is all in red, hat, soutane, shoesº and socks. Seven dwarf acolytes, the seven cardinal sins, also in red, hold up his train, peeping under it. He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. His thumbs are stuck in his armpits and the palms outspread. Round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his breast in a corkscrew cross. |3Invoking grace from on high with |aaa| large wave gesture he3| He proclaims with bloated pomp.)
Conservio lies captured
He lies in the lowest dungeons
With manacles and chains around his limbs
Weighing upwards of three tons.
(He looks at all for a moment, his right eye closed tight, his left cheek puffed out. Then, unable to repress his merriment |3|xarms akimbox|3| he rocks to and fro and sings with broad rollicking humour)
O, the poor little fellow
He he he he his legs they were yellow
He was plump, fat and heavy and brisk as a snake
But some bloody savage
To graize his white cabbage
He murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake
(He scratches himself with crossed arms at his ribs, grimacing sourly) |3By the hoky fiddle3| Thanks be to Jesus, those |3jokers funny little |afellows chapsa|3| are not unanimous. If they were they'd walk me off the face of the bloody earth.
(|3Wi Head aslant he blesses curtly with fore and middle fingers3| He |3double3| shuffles off comically, swaying his head from side to side, shrinking quickly to the size of his trainbearers. The dwarf acolytes giggling, peeping, nudging, ogling, zigzag behind him.
Bloom advances and, taking the chocolate from his pocket, offers it to Zoe Higgins)
|3(Snaps a piece)3| O, thank your mother for unread the rabbits. I'm very fond of what I like. (She tears open the silver paper) Fingers were made before forks (She breaks the cake and nibbles offering a piece to Kitty Ricketts who chews and sucks. To Lynch |3invitingly kittenishly3|) No objection to French lozenges (He nods. She taunts him |3kittenishly3|) Will you have it now or wait till you get it (He opens his mouth) Catch! (She tosses him a piece of chocolate which he catches |3deftly adroitly3| in his mouth and chews. Kitty Ricketts offers a piece to Bloom. He declines, then accepts but does not eat)
|3No, thanks (he takes it)3| What if it were aphrodisiac? |3Tansy & pennyroyal3| But no, I bought it. Vanilla too is a sedative. Mnemotechnic. Possibly confused light confuses the memory. Seems to influence the taste of this chocolate. Influence of colour. Red influences lupus, I think. Lupus, yes. Mnemo. And encourages hypocondriasis. Choice of colours is important therefore, suggestive. The character of women, any they have, is largely influenced by the line, style and texture of their clothes. My black figure here is too sad. Let me eat and rejoice (smiling, he eats the tablet) Or is it because I haven't tasted chocolate for a long time. It seems new. Aphrodisiac. Serious thing that about theº priest. Must come some day. Better late that never. Tomorrow I shall look for truffles.
(|3Firm clacking heels are heard.3| Bella Cohen, a massive whoremistress, enters the room. She is dressed in a threequarter ivoryº gown, fringed round the hem with tasselled selvedge and |3carries flaunts3| a black horn fan which she flutters like Minnie Hauck in Carmen. Her eyes are deeply carboned. She has a sprouting moustache. Her face is heavy, fullnosed |3with orangetainted nostrils3|, olivehued. She has large pendent beryl eardrops)
My word! I'm all of a mucksweat.
(She glances round her at the couples. Then her eyes rest on Bloom with hard |3evil3| insistence. Her large fan winnows wind towards her face and neck and rising bosom. Her falcon eyes glitter)
(flirting quickly, then slowly) Married, I see.
(half opening and closing) And the missus is master, I think. Petticoat government.
(looks down |3sheepishly with a sheepish grin3|) That is so.
(closing together, rests against her left eardrop) Have you forgotten me?
|3(his head against his left eardrop)3| Nes. Yo.
(folded akimbo against her waist)
|3Is this was as you thought before? |aIs was this as you dreamed before? Is me was you her dreamed before?a|3|
|3Was she then what you since here knew? |aWas then she what you since here knew? Was then she him you |busb| since |busb| knew?a|3|
|3Am all one and the same now me? Am all them and the same now me?3|
(with profound humility) Powerful being! In my eyes read that slumber which women love. Absolutely unlimited is the submission of my soul. Awe and despair possess me.
(Bella approaches silently, tapping her fan. Bloom winces at her approach.)
(as she stands beside him) |3(cowed) Exuberant female,3| Enormously I desiderate your domination. But I fear. I am alone, exhausted,º abandoned, no more young. |3I stand|a, so to speak,a| withº an unposted letter |abearing the late feea| before the Too Late Box of the General Post Office of Life.3| The door and window open in a right line cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second according to the law of falling bodies. I have felt a twinge of sciatica in my left glutear muscle. |3I should not have parted with my talisman. |aIt runs in the family. My father|b, when a widower,b| believed sometimes slept with |bhis theb| faithful Athos. |bHe told me that of King David & the Sunamiteb| Animal heat. |banimal health |cas you probably know the saliva of a dog. Ah! |dBut that you know best yrself.d| (again)c|b| He had also a catskin waistcoat.a|3| The rain. Long exposure on the rocks in the late dewy evening may have brought it on at my age. Would, O would, I were young again! Queen, marvellous commanding woman, restore to me my youth! |3(|ahe feels her heavy face, her eyes strike him in midbrowa| his eyes grow pouched, his nose thickens etc …)3| O embrace allround everywhere of universal womanlihood! I will eat my life from your royal hands. Feed me abundantly, monarch, with miracleworking truffles!
|3(He perceives that her shoelace is unfastened. She The fan rests against her left palm).
(with desire, with reluctance) In the presence of others. We are observed.
|a(mumbles)a| I can fasten it. When I worked the mail order line for Kellett's I learned to make a very effective |ablacka| knot. Let me tie it for you., may I?
(Bloom bends on one knee and busies himself with the shoelace |abefore the throne of her glorious glistening heelsa|. His fingers pass over her full pastern, silksocked |afeeling her regal weighta|, and. He inhales the heat of her hoof, the hot smell of her goathide buskin)
(bungling at the knot) A moment. |aCrosslaceda| (he glances up) Too tight?º Not to put |athe lace ita| in the wrong eyelet like I did the night of the bazaar dance with the person you mentioned. Hook in wrong tache of her. Bad luck. Now!3|
(with a hard |3basilisk3| stare |3in a baritone voice3|) Hound of dishonour!
|3(|aher hisa| heavy cheekchops sagging)3| Adorer of the adulterous rump!
(|3fascinated infatuated3|) Hugeness!
|3O, magnificence! Magmagnificence!3|
(tips |3him her3| on the shoulder with her fan) Down!
(with a piercing epileptic cry |3|ahis hera| eyes upturned, closing3|) Truffles!
Incline feet forward! Slide left foot one pace back! On the hands down.3|
(He sinks |3forward3| on all fours, grunting, snuffling, rooting at her feet. |3Then lies quiet, shamming dead |abut with trembling eyelidsa|3|)º