James Joyce

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Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned: —Introibo ad altare Dei. Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely: —Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit! Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and the awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and 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.

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—Back to barracks! he said sternly. He added in a preacher’s tone: —For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns. Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One moment. A little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silence, all. He peered sideways up and gave a long slow whistle of call, then paused awhile in rapt attention, his even white teeth glistening here and there with gold points. Chrysostomos. Two strong shrill whistles answered through the calm. —Thanks, old chap, he cried briskly. That will do nicely. Switch off the current, will 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 prelate, patron of arts in the middle ages. A pleasant smile broke quietly over his lips. —The mockery of it! he said gaily. Your absurd name, an ancient Greek! He pointed his finger in friendly jest and went over to the parapet, laughing to himself. Stephen Dedalus stepped up, followed him wearily halfway and sat down on the edge of the gunrest, watching him still as he propped his 3 of 1305


mirror on the parapet, dipped the brush in the bowl and lathered cheeks and neck. Buck Mulligan’s gay voice went on. —My name is absurd too: Malachi Mulligan, two dactyls. But it has a Hellenic ring, hasn’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 and, laughing with delight, cried: —Will he come? The jejune jesuit! Ceasing, he began to shave with care. —Tell me, Mulligan, Stephen said quietly. —Yes, my love? —How long is Haines going to stay in this tower? Buck Mulligan showed a shaven cheek over his right shoulder. —God, isn’t he dreadful? he said frankly. A ponderous Saxon. He thinks you’re not a gentleman. God, these bloody English! Bursting with money and indigestion. Because he comes from Oxford. You know, Dedalus, you have the real Oxford manner. He can’t make you out. O, my name for you is the best: Kinch, the knife-blade. He shaved warily over his chin.

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—He was raving all night about a black panther, Stephen said. Where is his guncase? —A woful lunatic! Mulligan said. Were you in a funk? —I was, Stephen 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 hero, however. 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 and, thrusting a hand into Stephen’s upper pocket, said: —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. Then, gazing over the handkerchief, he said: —The bard’s noserag! A new art colour for our Irish poets: snotgreen. You can almost taste it, can’t you? He mounted to the parapet again and gazed out over Dublin bay, his fair oakpale hair stirring slightly.

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—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. Ah, Dedalus, the 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 mother, he said. That’s why she won’t let me have anything to do with you. —Someone killed her, Stephen said gloomily. —You could have knelt down, damn it, Kinch, when your dying mother asked you, Buck 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. 6 of 1305


—But a lovely mummer! he murmured to himself. Kinch, the loveliest mummer of them all! He shaved evenly and with care, in silence, seriously. Stephen, an elbow rested on the jagged granite, leaned his palm against his brow and gazed at the fraying edge of his shiny black coat-sleeve. Pain, that was not yet the pain of love, fretted his heart. Silently, in a dream she had come to him after her death, her wasted body within its loose brown graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her breath, that had bent upon him, mute, reproachful, a 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. —Ah, poor 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 enough, Stephen answered. Buck Mulligan attacked the hollow beneath his underlip. 7 of 1305


—The mockery of it, he said contentedly. Secondleg they should be. God knows what poxy bowsy left them off. I have a lovely pair with a hair stripe, grey. You’ll look spiffing in them. I’m not joking, Kinch. You look damn well when you’re dressed. —Thanks, Stephen said. I can’t wear them if they are grey. —He can’t wear them, Buck 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 night, said Buck Mulligan, says 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 yourself, he said, you dreadful bard!

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Stephen bent forward and peered at the mirror held out to him, cleft 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 room, Buck 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 again, he brought the mirror away from Stephen’s peering eyes. —The rage of Caliban at not seeing his face in a mirror, he said. If Wilde were only alive to see you! Drawing back and pointing, Stephen 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 tower, his razor and mirror clacking in the pocket where he had thrust them. —It’s not fair to tease you like that, Kinch, is 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. 9 of 1305


—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. God, Kinch, if 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 laughter, one clasping another. O, I shall expire! Break the news to her gently, Aubrey! I shall die! With slit ribbons of his shirt whipping the air he hops and hobbles round the table, with trousers down at heels, chased 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!

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Shouts from the open window startling evening in the quadrangle. A deaf gardener, aproned, masked with Matthew Arnold’s face, pushes his mower on the sombre lawn watching narrowly the dancing motes of grasshalms. To ourselves ... new paganism ... omphalos. —Let him stay, Stephen 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 halted, looking 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. —Yes, what is it? Buck Mulligan answered. I don’t remember anything. He looked in Stephen’s face as he spoke. A light wind passed his brow, fanning softly his fair uncombed hair and stirring silver points of anxiety in his eyes. Stephen, depressed by his own voice, said: —Do you remember the first day I went to your house after my mother’s death? Buck Mulligan frowned quickly and said:

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—What? Where? I can’t remember anything. I remember only ideas and sensations. Why? What happened in the name of God? —You were making tea, Stephen said, and 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 said, Stephen answered, O, it’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 death, he asked, your 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 you, only 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 12 of 1305


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. Stephen, shielding the gaping wounds which the words had left in his heart, said very coldly: —I am not thinking of the offence to my mother. —Of what then? Buck Mulligan asked. —Of the offence to me, Stephen answered. Buck Mulligan swung round on his heel. —O, an 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 eyes, veiling their sight, and he felt the fever of his cheeks. A voice within the tower called loudly: —Are you up there, Mulligan? —I’m coming, Buck Mulligan answered. He turned towards Stephen and said:

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—Look at the sea. What does it care about offences? Chuck Loyola, Kinch, and come on down. The Sassenach wants his morning rashers. His head halted again for a moment at the top of the staircase, level with the roof: —Don’t mope over it all day, he 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 whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet. White breast of the dim sea. The twining stresses, two by two. A hand plucking the harpstrings, merging their twining chords. Wavewhite wedded words shimmering on the dim tide. A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly, shadowing the bay in deeper green. It lay beneath him, a bowl of bitter waters. Fergus’ song: I sang it alone in the house, holding down the long dark chords. Her door was 14 of 1305


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 words, Stephen: love’s bitter mystery. Where now? Her secrets: old featherfans, tasselled dancecards, powdered with musk, a 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 mirth, folded 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 apple, filled with brown sugar, roasting for her at the hob on a dark autumn evening. Her shapely

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fingernails reddened by the blood of squashed lice from the children’s shirts. In a dream, silently, she had come to him, her wasted body within its loose graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her breath, bent over him with mute secret words, a faint odour of wetted ashes. Her glazing eyes, staring out of death, to 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 horror, while 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! No, mother! Let me be and let me live. —Kinch ahoy! Buck Mulligan’s voice sang from within the tower. It came nearer up the staircase, calling again. Stephen, still trembling at his soul’s cry, heard warm running sunlight and in the air behind him friendly words. —Dedalus, come down, like a good mosey. Breakfast is ready. Haines is apologising for waking us last night. It’s all right. —I’m coming, Stephen said, turning. 16 of 1305


—Do, for Jesus’ sake, Buck 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 quid, will you? A guinea, I mean. —I get paid this morning, Stephen said. —The school kip? Buck Mulligan said. How much? Four quid? Lend us one. —If you want it, Stephen said. —Four shining sovereigns, Buck 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 stairs, singing out of tune with a Cockney accent: O, won’t we have a merry time, Drinking whisky, beer and wine! On coronation, Coronation day! O, won’t we have a merry time On coronation day! Warm sunshine merrying over the sea. The nickel shavingbowl shone, forgotten, on the parapet. Why should

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I bring it down? Or leave it there all day, forgotten friendship? He went over to it, held it in his hands awhile, feeling 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 hearth, hiding 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 floated, turning. —We’ll be choked, Buck Mulligan said. Haines, open that door, will you? Stephen laid the shavingbowl on the locker. A tall figure rose from the hammock where it had been sitting, went to the doorway and pulled open the inner doors. —Have you the key? a voice asked. —Dedalus has it, Buck Mulligan said. Janey Mack, I’m choked! He howled, without looking up from the fire: —Kinch! —It’s in the lock, Stephen said, coming forward. 18 of 1305


The key scraped round harshly twice and, when the heavy door had been set ajar, welcome light and bright air entered. Haines stood at the doorway, looking 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 table, set them down heavily and sighed with relief. —I’m melting, he said, as the candle remarked when ... But, hush! Not a word more on that subject! Kinch, wake up! Bread, butter, honey. Haines, come in. The grub is ready. Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts. Where’s the sugar? O, jay, there’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 black, Stephen said thirstily. There’s a lemon in the locker. —O, damn 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.

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—The blessings of God on you! Buck Mulligan cried, jumping up from his chair. Sit down. Pour out the tea there. The sugar is in the bag. Here, I can’t go fumbling at the damned eggs. He hacked through the fry on the dish and slapped it out on three plates, saying: —In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Haines sat down to pour out the tea. —I’m giving you two lumps each, he said. But, I say, Mulligan, you do make strong tea, don’t you? Buck Mulligan, hewing thick slices from the loaf, said in an old woman’s wheedling voice: —When I makes tea I makes tea, as old mother Grogan said. And when I makes water I makes water. —By Jove, it is tea, Haines said. Buck Mulligan went on hewing and wheedling: —So I do, Mrs Cahill, says she. Begob, ma’am, says Mrs Cahill, God 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 folk, he said very earnestly, for your book, Haines. 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. 20 of 1305


He turned to Stephen and asked in a fine puzzled voice, lifting his brows: —Can you recall, brother, is mother Grogan’s tea and water pot spoken of in the Mabinogion or is it in the Upanishads? —I doubt it, said Stephen gravely. —Do you now? Buck Mulligan said in the same tone. Your reasons, pray? —I fancy, Stephen said as he ate, it did not exist in or out of the Mabinogion. Mother Grogan was, one imagines, a kinswoman of Mary Ann. Buck Mulligan’s face smiled with delight. —Charming! he said in a finical sweet voice, showing his white teeth and blinking his eyes pleasantly. Do you think she was? Quite charming! Then, suddenly overclouding all his features, he growled in a hoarsened rasping voice as he hewed again vigorously at the loaf: —For old Mary Ann She doesn’t care a damn. But, hising up her petticoats ... He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned. 21 of 1305


The doorway was darkened by an entering form. —The milk, sir! —Come in, ma’am, Mulligan said. Kinch, get the jug. An old woman came forward and stood by Stephen’s elbow. —That’s a lovely morning, sir, she said. Glory be to God. —To whom? Mulligan said, glancing at her. Ah, to be sure! Stephen reached back and took the milkjug from the locker. —The islanders, Mulligan said to Haines casually, speak frequently of the collector of prepuces. —How much, sir? asked the old woman. —A quart, Stephen said. He watched her pour into the measure and thence into the jug rich white milk, not hers. Old shrunken paps. She poured again a measureful and a tilly. Old and secret she had entered from a morning world, maybe a messenger. She praised the goodness of the milk, pouring it out. Crouching by a patient cow at daybreak in the lush field, a witch on her toadstool, her wrinkled fingers quick at the squirting dugs. They lowed about her whom they knew, dewsilky cattle. Silk of the kine and poor old woman, 22 of 1305


names given her in old times. A wandering crone, lowly form of an immortal serving her conqueror and her gay betrayer, their common cuckquean, a messenger from the secret morning. To serve or to upbraid, whether he could not tell: but scorned to beg her favour. —It is indeed, ma’am, Buck Mulligan said, pouring milk into their cups. —Taste it, sir, she said. He drank at her bidding. —If we could live on good food like that, he said to her somewhat loudly, we wouldn’t have the country full of rotten teeth and rotten guts. Living in a bogswamp, eating cheap food and the streets paved with dust, horsedung and consumptives’ spits. —Are you a medical student, sir? the old woman asked. —I am, ma’am, Buck Mulligan answered. —Look at that now, she said. Stephen listened in scornful silence. She bows her old head to a voice that speaks to her loudly, her bonesetter, her 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 loins, of man’s flesh made not in God’s likeness, the serpent’s prey. And to the loud voice that now bids her be silent with wondering unsteady eyes. 23 of 1305


—Do you understand what he says? Stephen asked her. —Is it French you are talking, sir? the old woman said to Haines. Haines spoke to her again a longer speech, confidently. —Irish, Buck Mulligan said. Is there Gaelic on you? —I thought it was Irish, she said, by the sound of it. Are you from the west, sir? —I am an Englishman, Haines answered. —He’s English, Buck Mulligan said, and he thinks we ought to speak Irish in Ireland. —Sure we ought to, the old woman said, and 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 it, said Buck Mulligan. Wonderful entirely. Fill us out some more tea, Kinch. Would you like a cup, ma’am? —No, thank you, sir, the old woman said, slipping the ring of the milkcan on her forearm and about to go. Haines said to her: —Have you your bill? We had better pay her, Mulligan, hadn’t we? Stephen filled again the three cups. —Bill, sir? she said, halting. Well, it’s seven mornings a pint at twopence is seven twos is a shilling and twopence 24 of 1305


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 two, sir. Buck Mulligan sighed and, having filled his mouth with a crust thickly buttered on both sides, stretched forth his legs and began to search his trouser pockets. —Pay up and look pleasant, Haines said to him, smiling. Stephen filled a third cup, a spoonful of tea colouring faintly the thick rich milk. Buck Mulligan brought up a florin, twisted it round in his fingers and cried: —A miracle! He passed it along the table towards the old woman, saying: —Ask nothing more of me, sweet. All I can give you I give. Stephen laid the coin in her uneager hand. —We’ll owe twopence, he said. —Time enough, sir, she said, taking the coin. Time enough. Good morning, sir. She curtseyed and went out, followed by Buck Mulligan’s tender chant:

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—Heart of my heart, were it more, More would be laid at your feet. He turned to Stephen and said: —Seriously, Dedalus. 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 me, Haines said, rising, that I have to visit your national library today. —Our swim first, Buck Mulligan said. He turned to Stephen and asked blandly: —Is this the day for your monthly wash, Kinch? Then he said to Haines: —The unclean bard makes a point of washing once a month. —All Ireland is washed by the gulfstream, Stephen 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.

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Haines. I think. Haines laughed and. as he took his soft grey hat from the holdfast of the hammock. Buck Mulligan said. Buck Mulligan kicked Stephen’s foot under the table and said with warmth of tone: —Wait till you hear him on Hamlet. said: —I don’t know. Buck Mulligan bent across to Stephen and said with coarse vigour: —You put your hoof in it now. still speaking to Stephen.Ulysses —That one about the cracked lookingglass of a servant being the symbol of Irish art is deuced good. and then you come along with your lousy leer and your gloomy jesuit jibes. 27 of 1305 . —Would I make any money by it? Stephen asked. What did you say that for? —Well? Stephen said. From whom? From the milkwoman or from him. I’m sure. —Well. It’s a toss up. from her or from him. He strolled out to the doorway. I mean it. —I blow him out about you. Stephen said. I was just thinking of it when that poor old creature came in. Haines said. —I see little hope. The problem is to get money.

A limp black missile flew out of his talking hands. Mercurial Malachi. and to his dangling watchchain. Stephen picked it up and put it on. He stood up. His hands plunged and rummaged in his trunk while he called for a clean handkerchief. Contradiction.Ulysses Buck Mulligan sighed tragically and laid his hand on Stephen’s arm. Do I contradict myself? Very well then. gravely ungirdled and disrobed himself of his gown. Haines called to them from the doorway: —Are you coming. I contradict myself. chiding them. you fellows? 28 of 1305 . we’ll simply have to dress the character. God. In a suddenly changed tone he added: —To tell you the God’s truth I think you’re right. Kinch. —And there’s your Latin quarter hat. he said. he said. —There’s your snotrag. I want puce gloves and green boots. saying resignedly: —Mulligan is stripped of his garments. He emptied his pockets on to the table. And putting on his stiff collar and rebellious tie he spoke to them. Damn all else they are good for. Why don’t you play them as I do? To hell with them all. —From me. he said. Let us get out of the kip.

At the foot of the ladder Buck Mulligan asked: —Did you bring the key? —I have it. Buck Mulligan answered. Buck Mulligan said. I suppose. wellnigh with sorrow: —And going forth he met Butterly. preceding them. taking his ashplant from its leaningplace. going towards the door. Kinch. You have eaten all we left. They halted while Haines surveyed the tower and said at last: 29 of 1305 . followed them out and. He put the huge key in his inner pocket. pulled to the slow iron door and locked it. Stephen said. sir! Haines asked: —Do you pay rent for this tower? —Twelve quid. —Down. as they went down the ladder. Stephen added over his shoulder.Ulysses —I’m ready. —To the secretary of state for war. Stephen. saying. He walked on. Behind him he heard Buck Mulligan club with his heavy bathtowel the leader shoots of ferns or grasses. Resigned he passed out with grave words and gait. Come out. sir! How dare you.

But ours is the omphalos. He proves by algebra that Hamlet’s grandson is Shakespeare’s grandfather and that he himself is the ghost of his own father. Haines said amiably. Kinch. We have grown out of Wilde and paradoxes. saying. Buck Mulligan said. He himself? 30 of 1305 . —What? Haines said. Buck Mulligan shouted in pain. beginning to point at Stephen. Is it some paradox? —Pooh! Buck Mulligan said. —You pique my curiosity. He turned to Stephen. it can wait longer. —What is your idea of Hamlet? Haines asked Stephen. Stephen said listlessly. when the French were on the sea. Martello you call it? —Billy Pitt had them built. —No.Ulysses —Rather bleak in wintertime. It’s quite simple. I should say. Wait till I have a few pints in me first. could you? —It has waited so long. as he pulled down neatly the peaks of his primrose waistcoat: —You couldn’t manage it under three pints. I’m not equal to Thomas Aquinas and the fiftyfive reasons he has made out to prop it up. no.

empty save for the smokeplume of the mailboat vague on the bright skyline and a sail tacking by the Muglins. pale as the sea the wind had freshened. shade of Kinch the elder! Japhet in search of a father! —We’re always tired in the morning. walking forward again. Haines said. That beetles o’er his base into the sea. Haines explained to Stephen as they followed. Eyes. for an instant towards Stephen but did not speak. this tower and these cliffs here remind me somehow of Elsinore. The seas’ ruler. —I mean to say. isn’t it? Buck Mulligan turned suddenly. Stephen said to Haines. bending in loose laughter. —The sacred pint alone can unbind the tongue of Dedalus.Ulysses Buck Mulligan slung his towel stolewise round his neck and. raised his hands. he said. he gazed southward over the bay. bringing them to halt again. And it is rather long to tell. said to Stephen’s ear: —O. 31 of 1305 . paler. —It’s a wonderful tale. firm and prudent. Buck Mulligan. In the bright silent instant Stephen saw his own image in cheap dusty mourning between their gay attires.

his eyes. from which he had suddenly withdrawn all shrewd sense. and began to chant in a quiet happy foolish voice: —I’m the queerest young fellow that ever you heard. Buck Mulligan at once put on a blithe broadly smiling face. He moved a doll’s head to and fro. he said bemused. his wellshaped mouth open happily. With Joseph the joiner I cannot agree. He held up a forefinger of warning. So here’s to disciples and Calvary. my father’s a bird. The Father and the Son idea. blinking with mad gaiety. 32 of 1305 . the brims of his Panama hat quivering. —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.Ulysses —I read a theological interpretation of it somewhere. The Son striving to be atoned with the Father. My mother’s a jew. He looked at them.

fluttering his winglike hands. fluttered his hands at his sides like fins or wings of one about to rise in the air. —O.Ulysses He tugged swiftly at Stephen’s ashplant in farewell and.. now. walked on beside Stephen and said: —We oughtn’t to laugh. goodbye! Write down all I said And tell Tom. I suppose. Mercury’s hat quivering in the fresh wind that bore back to them his brief birdsweet cries. What’s bred in the bone cannot fail me to fly And Olivet’s breezy . He’s rather blasphemous. leaping nimbly. running forward to a brow of the cliff. you have heard it before? 33 of 1305 . Haines said. Still his gaiety takes the harm out of it somehow. Stephen answered. doesn’t it? What did he call it? Joseph the Joiner? —The ballad of joking Jesus. Haines. and chanted: —Goodbye. I’m not a believer myself. goodbye! He capered before them down towards the fortyfoot hole. that is to say. Dick and Harry I rose from the dead.. who had been laughing guardedly. Goodbye. now.

after me. of course. after meals. Creation from nothing and miracles and a personal God. isn’t it? Personally I couldn’t stomach that idea of a personal God. I suppose? —You behold in me. —Yes. waiting to be spoken to. a horrible example of free thought. held the flaming spunk towards Stephen in the shell of his hands. 34 of 1305 . taking a cigarette. a believer in the narrow sense of the word. Either you believe or you don’t. having lit his cigarette. squealing at his heels. Haines stopped to take out a smooth silver case in which twinkled a green stone. are you? Haines asked. and. —Thank you. He sprang it open with his thumb and offered it. You don’t stand for that. calling. I mean. My familiar. Stephen said with grim displeasure. as they went on again. Its ferrule followed lightly on the path. sprang it open too. He put it back in his sidepocket and took from his waistcoatpocket a nickel tinderbox. he said.Ulysses —Three times a day. trailing his ashplant by his side. —You’re not a believer. Stephen said. Haines helped himself and snapped the case to. —There’s only one sense of the word. Stephen said drily. Stephen said. it seems to me. He walked on.

We feel in 35 of 1305 . A crazy queen. Haines detached from his underlip some fibres of tobacco before he spoke. I daresay.. his colour rising. there is who wants me for odd jobs. What do you mean? —The imperial British state.. —I am a servant of two masters. Give him the key too. Stephen turned and saw that the cold gaze which had measured him was not all unkind.Ulysses Steeeeeeeeeeeephen! A wavering line along the path. Kneel down before me. You are your own master. All. coming here in the dark. I paid the rent. he said calmly. —I can quite understand that. An Irishman must think like that. Stephen answered. —Italian? Haines said. —Italian? Haines said again. It is mine. Now I eat his salt bread. old and jealous. —And a third. Haines began . Stephen said. Stephen said. They will walk on it tonight. —After all. That was in his eyes. I should think you are able to free yourself. it seems to me. —After all. He will ask for it. and the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church. an English and an Italian. He wants that key.

warring his life long upon the consubstantiality of the Son with the Father. Zut! Nom de Dieu! 36 of 1305 . and Valentine. and Arius. a chemistry of stars. Hear.Ulysses England that we have treated you rather unfairly. The void awaits surely all them that weave the wind: a menace. Symbol of the apostles in the mass for pope Marcellus. A horde of heresies fleeing with mitres awry: Photius and the brood of mockers of whom Mulligan was one. 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 thoughts. a disarming and a worsting from those embattled angels of the church. hear! Prolonged applause. the voices blended. and the subtle African heresiarch Sabellius who held that the Father was Himself His own Son. It seems history is to blame. spurning Christ’s terrene body. who defend her ever in the hour of conflict with their lances and their shields. singing alone loud in affirmation: and behind their chant the vigilant angel of the church militant disarmed and menaced her heresiarchs. Words Mulligan had spoken a moment since in mockery to the stranger. Michael’s host. Idle mockery.

—She’s making for Bullock harbour. Malachi? —Down in Westmeath. just now. 37 of 1305 . The boatman nodded towards the north of the bay with some disdain. watching: businessman. Buck Mulligan stood on a stone. he said. It’ll be swept up that way when the tide comes in about one. —Is the brother with you. A young man clinging to a spur of rock near him. Two men stood at the verge of the cliff. They followed the winding path down to the creek. With the Bannons. moved slowly frogwise his green legs in the deep jelly of the water. and I feel as one. Photo girl he calls her. It’s nine days today. roll over to the sun a puffy face. boatman. —Still there? I got a card from Bannon. The man that was drowned. Here I am. I’m afraid.Ulysses —Of course I’m a Britisher. That’s our national problem. his unclipped tie rippling over his shoulder. —There’s five fathoms out there. saltwhite. Haines’s voice said. I don’t want to see my country fall into the hands of German jews either. Says he found a sweet young thing down there. A sail veering about the blank bay waiting for a swollen bundle to bob up. in shirtsleeves.

He scrambled up by the stones. —Is she up the pole? —Better ask Seymour that. Buck Mulligan made way for him to scramble past and. Lily? —Yes. —Going over next week to stew.Ulysses —Snapshot. An elderly man shot up near the spur of rock a blowing red face. —Spooning with him last night on the pier. The father is rotto with money. grasping again his spur of rock. water rilling over his chest and paunch and spilling jets out of his black sagging loincloth. eh? Brief exposure. saying tritely: 38 of 1305 . —Seymour a bleeding officer! Buck Mulligan said. go to God! Buck Mulligan said. Chucked medicine and going in for the army. crossed himself piously with his thumbnail at brow and lips and breastbone. —Seymour’s back in town. glancing at Haines and Stephen. water glistening on his pate and on its garland of grey hair. He nodded to himself as he drew off his trousers and stood up. Buck Mulligan sat down to unlace his boots. the young man said. You know that red Carlisle girl. —Ah.

Stephen turned away. undressing. Not on my breakfast. —My twelfth rib is gone. Toothless Kinch and I. Stephen threw two pennies on the soft heap. said solemnly: 39 of 1305 . Haines sat down on a stone. Throw it there. —Are you not coming in? Buck Mulligan asked. Kinch. —Are you going in here. I’m the Uebermensch. He broke off in alarm. Mulligan. Buck Mulligan erect.Ulysses —Redheaded women buck like goats. Buck Mulligan laid it across his heaped clothes. feeling his side under his flapping shirt. for a pint. The young man shoved himself backward through the water and reached the middle of the creek in two long clean strokes. Stephen handed him the key. the supermen. Haines said. —Later on. he said. —Give us that key. smoking. he said. He struggled out of his shirt and flung it behind him to where his clothes lay. —I’m going. with joined hands before him. Make room in the bed. Buck Mulligan said. he cried. Malachi? —Yes. —And twopence. to keep my chemise flat. Dressing.

Turning the curve he waved his hand. Haines said. It called again. —We’ll see you again. turning as Stephen walked up the path and smiling at wild Irish. Liliata rutilantium. a seal’s. far out on the water. Iubilantium te virginum. called to him from the sea. Horn of a bull. Turma circumdet. I will not sleep here tonight. Usurper. hoof of a horse. —The Ship. smile of a Saxon. Buck Mulligan cried. A sleek brown head. sweettoned and sustained.Ulysses —He who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord. ***** 40 of 1305 . round. He walked along the upwardcurving path. Stephen said. —Good. Half twelve. His plump body plunged. Thus spake Zarathustra. The priest’s grey nimbus in a niche where he dressed discreetly. A voice. Home also I cannot go.

sir. —Yes. shattered glass and toppling masonry. sir? —I know. C. and time one livid final flame. And he said: Another victory like that and we are done for. —You. 41 of 1305 . —Very good. Comyn said. then. sir. thud of Blake’s wings of excess. What’s left us then? —I forget the place. —Asculum. —Very good. A dull ease of the mind. From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his officers. Any general to any officers. I hear the ruin of all space. of impatience. sir. Fabled by the daughters of memory. leaned upon his spear. Where? The boy’s blank face asked the blank window. glancing at the name and date in the gorescarred book. Cochrane. sir.Ulysses —You. Stephen said. And yet it was in some way if not as memory fabled it. They lend ear. A phrase. That phrase the world had remembered. Well? —There was a battle. sir. Stephen said. 279 B. Ask me. Armstrong. what city sent for him? —Tarentum. What was the end of Pyrrhus? —End of Pyrrhus. sir.

In a moment they will laugh more loudly. Stephen said. A kind of a bridge. sweetened with tea and jam. Crumbs adhered to the tissue of his lips.Ulysses —Wait. Two in the back bench whispered. Some laughed again: mirthless but with meaning. Dalkey. aware of my lack of rule and of the fees their papas pay. sir? Pyrrhus. Mirthless high malicious laughter. too. You. sir. With envy he watched their faces: Edith. Vico road. 42 of 1305 . Armstrong looked round at his classmates. —Kingstown pier. They knew: had never learned nor ever been innocent. Ethel. Stephen said. All. sir. —A pier. Welloff people. Kingstown pier. a pier. All laughed. He curled them between his palms at whiles and swallowed them softly. A thing out in the water. proud that their eldest son was in the navy. Armstrong. silly glee in profile. Armstrong said. a disappointed bridge. Yes. what is a pier. Their likes: their breaths. —Pyrrhus. poking the boy’s shoulder with the book. Do you know anything about Pyrrhus? A bag of figrolls lay snugly in Armstrong’s satchel. their bracelets tittering in the struggle. Lily. —Tell me now. Gerty. A sweetened boy’s breath. Yes.

do. --Weep no more. winning a clement master’s praise. weaver of the wind. Had Pyrrhus not fallen by a beldam’s hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not been knifed to death. Comyn said. their land a pawnshop. indulged and disesteemed. 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 heard. Go on. sir? —After. —Where do you begin in this? Stephen asked. Talbot. —Go on then. —Tell us a story.Ulysses The words troubled their gaze. to pierce the polished mail of his mind. A bridge is across a river. What then? A jester at the court of his master. Tonight deftly amid wild drink and talk. But can those have been possible seeing that they never were? Or was that only possible which came to pass? Weave. —How. Stephen said. sir. They are not to be thought away. sir. —And the story. For Haines’s chapbook. Time has branded them and fettered they are lodged in the room of the infinite possibilities they have ousted. opening another book. Talbot. No-one here to hear. A ghoststory. —O. sir? Comyn asked. 43 of 1305 .

your sorrow. Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor . is not dead. woful shepherds. vast. reluctant.. an actuality of the possible as possible. candescent: form of forms. 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 read. night by night. shy of brightness. It must be a movement then. with faintly beating feelers: and in my mind’s darkness a sloth of the underworld. sheltered from the sin of Paris. weep no more For Lycidas. Tranquil brightness.. He recited jerks of verse with odd glances at the text: —Weep no more. The soul is in a manner all that is: the soul is the form of forms. Tranquility sudden. shifting her dragon scaly folds. Fed and feeding brains about me: under glowlamps.Ulysses A swarthy boy opened a book and propped it nimbly under the breastwork of his satchel. Thought is the thought of thought. Talbot repeated: 44 of 1305 . impaled. By his elbow a delicate Siamese conned a handbook of strategy.

a riddling sentence to be woven and woven on the church’s looms. To Caesar what is Caesar’s. —Turn over. —Have I heard all? Stephen asked. —Yes. Thursday. Riddle me. Talbot slid his closed book into his satchel. My father gave me seeds to sow. 45 of 1305 . —Half day. sir. Of him that walked the waves. He leaned back and went on again. to God what is God’s. randy ro. I don’t see anything. Through the dear might .. A long look from dark eyes.. sir. having just remembered. sir. sir? Talbot asked simply. Hockey at ten. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a coin of the tribute.Ulysses —Through the dear might 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. Ay. —Who can answer a riddle? Stephen asked. His hand turned the page over. —What. bending forward. riddle me. Stephen said quietly.

After a silence Cochrane said: —What is it. —This is the riddle. sir. sir? Ask me. Stephen said: The cock crew. sir. sir. ‘Tis time for this poor soul To go to heaven. sir. his throat itching. sir? —Again. all gabbling gaily: —A riddle. —A hard one. Stephen. The sky was blue: The bells in heaven Were striking eleven. sir? We give it up. answered: —The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush.Ulysses They bundled their books away. 46 of 1305 . Crowding together they strapped and buckled their satchels. ask me. What is that? —What. He stood up and gave a shout of nervous laughter to which their cries echoed dismay. pencils clacking. —O. pages rustling. We didn’t hear. Their eyes grew bigger as the lines were repeated.

Futility. —Do you understand how to do them now? he asked. 47 of 1305 . On his cheek.Ulysses A stick struck the door and a voice in the corridor called: —Hockey! They broke asunder. Stephen touched the edges of the book. dull and bloodless. Quickly they were gone and from the lumberroom came the rattle of sticks and clamour of their boots and tongues. showing an open copybook. Beneath were sloping figures and at the foot a crooked signature with blind loops and a blot. yourself? Stephen asked. Cyril Sargent: his name and seal. He held out his copybook. sir. recent and damp as a snail’s bed. His thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness and through his misty glasses weak eyes looked up pleading. a soft stain of ink lay. dateshaped. and show them to you. —Mr Deasy told me to write them out all again. leaping them. sir. The word Sums was written on the headline. Sargent who alone had lingered came forward slowly. —Numbers eleven to fifteen. sidling out of their benches. Mr Deasy said I was to copy them off the board. Sargent answered. —Can you do them. he said.

Hockeysticks rattled in the lumberroom: the hollow knock of a ball and calls from the field. He proves by algebra that Shakespeare’s ghost is Hamlet’s grandfather. with merciless bright eyes scraped in the earth. listened. But for her the race of the world would have trampled him underfoot. She had loved his weak watery blood drained from her own. Across the page the symbols moved in grave morrice. sir. She was no more: the trembling skeleton of a twig burnt in the fire. a squashed boneless snail. wearing quaint caps of squares and cubes. Give hands.Ulysses —No. Sargent peered askance through his slanted glasses. Yet someone had loved him. scraped and scraped. borne him in her arms and in her heart. an odour of rosewood and wetted ashes. scraped up the earth. listened. A poor soul gone to heaven: and on a heath beneath winking stars a fox. Ugly and futile: lean neck and thick hair and a stain of ink. bow to partner: 48 of 1305 . She had saved him from being trampled underfoot and had gone. scarcely having been. Was that then real? The only true thing in life? His mother’s prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode. red reek of rapine in his fur. a snail’s bed. Sitting at his side Stephen solved out the problem. in the mummery of their letters. traverse.

With her weak blood and wheysour milk she had fed him and hid from sight of others his swaddling bands. a faint hue of shame flickering behind his dull skin. In long shaky strokes Sargent copied the data. Sargent answered. flashing in their mocking mirrors the obscure soul of the world. Averroes and Moses Maimonides. stony sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants. Like him was I. Thanks. —It is very simple. sir. Too far for me to lay a hand there once or lightly. Amor matris: subjective and objective genitive. silent. —Yes. —Do you understand now? Can you work the second for yourself? —Yes. 49 of 1305 . Mine is far and his secret as our eyes. My childhood bends beside me. dark men in mien and movement. The sum was done. Stephen said as he stood up. sir. willing to be dethroned. a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not comprehend. Secrets. Waiting always for a word of help his hand moved faithfully the unsteady symbols. these sloping shoulders.Ulysses so: imps of fancy of the Moors. this gracelessness. Gone too from the world.

They were sorted in teams and Mr Deasy came away stepping over wisps of grass with gaitered feet.Ulysses He dried the page with a sheet of thin blottingpaper and carried his copybook back to his bench. Stephen said as he followed towards the door the boy’s graceless form. He turned his angry white moustache. —Sargent! —Run on. Mr Deasy said. Stephen said. —Yes. called from the playfield. Stephen said. —Will you wait in my study for a moment. —You had better get your stick and go out to the others. When he had reached the schoolhouse voices again contending called to him. till I restore order here. sir. And as he stepped fussily back across the field his old man’s voice cried sternly: 50 of 1305 . He stood in the porch and watched the laggard hurry towards the scrappy field where sharp voices were in strife. —Cochrane and Halliday are on the same side. Mr Deasy is calling you. In the corridor his name was heard. sir. —What is it now? he cried continually without listening.

Stale smoky air hung in the study with the smell of drab abraded leather of its chairs. He brought out of his coat a pocketbook bound by a leather thong. our little financial settlement. As it was in the beginning. Stephen’s embarrassed hand moved over the shells heaped in the cold stone mortar: whelks and money cowries and leopard 51 of 1305 . one of joined halves. And snug in their spooncase of purple plush. Blowing out his rare moustache Mr Deasy halted at the table. he said. And now his strongroom for the gold. and laid them carefully on the table. It slapped open and he took from it two notes. —First. —Two. faded. As on the first day he bargained with me here. is now.Ulysses —What is the matter? What is it now? Their sharp voices cried about him on all sides: their many forms closed round him. strapping and stowing his pocketbook away. A hasty step over the stone porch and in the corridor. he said. the garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his illdyed head. On the sideboard the tray of Stuart coins. the twelve apostles having preached to all the gentiles: world without end. base treasure of a bog: and ever shall be.

—Mine would be often empty. —Three twelve. Stephen said. bright and new. —No thanks at all. went back to the hollow shells. he said. See. Stephen’s hand. —Don’t carry it like that. —Three. dead treasure. You’ll pull it out somewhere and lose it. Mr Deasy said. sir. 52 of 1305 . whorled as an emir’s turban. turning his little savingsbox about in his hand. This is for shillings. You’ll find them very handy. This is for sovereigns. free again. and this. Mr Deasy said. the scallop of saint James. gathering the money together with shy haste and putting it all in a pocket of his trousers. halfcrowns. A lump in my pocket: symbols soiled by greed and misery.Ulysses shells: and this. —Thank you. See. These are handy things to have. hollow shells. Mr Deasy said. Answer something. And here crowns. He shot from it two crowns and two shillings. Sixpences. I think you’ll find that’s right. on the soft pile of the tablecloth. You just buy one of these machines. Symbols too of beauty and of power. You have earned it. A sovereign fell. An old pilgrim’s hoard. Stephen said.

He made money. His seacold eyes looked on the empty bay: it seems history is to blame: on me and on my words. unhating. He tapped his savingsbox against his thumbnail. —He knew what money was. but an Englishman too. He lifted his gaze from the idle shells to the old man’s stare. That’s not English. —That on his empire. the sun never sets. Stephen murmured. Stephen said. Mr Deasy said. Three times now. 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. Money is power. —Iago. If youth but knew. —Ba! Mr Deasy cried. Three nooses round me here. But what does Shakespeare say? Put but money in thy purse. 53 of 1305 . Mr Deasy said. You don’t know yet what money is. A French Celt said that. the same wisdom: and I the same. I know.Ulysses The same room and hour. yes. Well? I can break them in this instant if I will. pointing his finger. I know. When you have lived as long as I have. A poet. —Because you don’t save.

—I fear those big words. three guineas. he said solemnly. one pair brogues. Mrs MacKernan. he said joyously. But one day you must feel it. Bob Reynolds. one guinea. Temple. ten guineas. Can you? Mulligan. his thoughtful voice said. Can you feel that? I owe nothing. ten shillings.Ulysses —I will tell you. Good man. We are a generous people but we must also be just. —I paid my way. McCann. no. Curran. The lump I have is useless. Mr Deasy stared sternly for some moments over the mantelpiece at the shapely bulk of a man in tartan filibegs: Albert Edward. which make us so unhappy. two shillings. —I knew you couldn’t. two lunches. half a guinea. three pairs of socks. one guinea. Stephen said. I paid my way. prince of Wales. ties. I saw three generations since 54 of 1305 . —For the moment. Fred Ryan. good man. —You think me an old fogey and an old tory. nine pounds. I never borrowed a shilling in my life. Stephen answered. five weeks’ board. Cousins. what is his proudest boast. Mr Deasy laughed with rich delight. Koehler. putting back his savingsbox. Russell.

was his motto. Glorious. 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.. Lal the ral the ra The rocky road to Dublin.. Soft day. your honour! . But I am descended from sir John Blackwood who voted for the union. masked and armed. Hoarse.. On the spindle side. —Alas. 55 of 1305 . —Per vias rectas. all kings’ sons. We are all Irish. the planters’ covenant.Ulysses O’Connell’s time.. The lodge of Diamond in Armagh the splendid behung with corpses of papishes. Day! . Mr Deasy said firmly. A gruff squire on horseback with shiny topboots. —I have rebel blood in me too. sir John! Soft day. Day! . Stephen sketched a brief gesture. Croppies lie down. The black north and true blue bible.. He voted for it and put on his topboots to ride to Dublin from the Ards of Down to do so. Stephen said. Mr Deasy said.. pious and immortal memory.

with some of your literary friends. He saw their speeds. backing king’s colours. You can do me a favour.Ulysses Two topboots jog dangling on to Dublin. the duke of Beaufort’s Ceylon. sometimes blowing as he screwed up the drum to erase an error. I have a letter here for the press. Framed around the walls images of vanished horses stood in homage. Mr Deasy said. Just a moment. Lal the ral the ra. watchful of a sign. Mr Dedalus. Sit down a moment. muttering. Excuse me. 1866. He went to the desk near the window. began to prod the stiff buttons of the keyboard slowly. their meek heads poised in air: lord Hastings’ Repulse. pulled in his chair twice and read off some words from the sheet on the drum of his typewriter. the duke of Westminster’s Shotover. Stephen seated himself noiselessly before the princely presence. He peered from under his shaggy brows at the manuscript by his elbow and. Lal the ral the raddy. 56 of 1305 . Elfin riders sat them. prix de Paris. the dictates of common sense. —Sit down. he said over his shoulder. I have just to copy the end. —That reminds me. and shouted with the shouts of vanished crowds.

But prompt ventilation of this allimportant question . a butcher’s dame. Fair Rebel! Fair Rebel! Even money the favourite: ten to one the field. —Now then. amid the bawls of bookies on their pitches and reek of the canteen. He came to the table. a shout of spearspikes baited with men’s bloodied guts. Shouts rang shrill from the boys’ playfield and a whirring whistle.. I am among them. slush and uproar of battles. Jousts. Time shocked rebounds. Again: a goal.Ulysses —Full stop. the joust of life. over the motley slush. 57 of 1305 . the vying caps and jackets and past the meatfaced woman. pinning together his sheets. among their battling bodies in a medley. hunting his winners among the mudsplashed brakes. rising.. the frozen deathspew of the slain. You mean that knockkneed mother’s darling who seems to be slightly crawsick? Jousts. shock by shock. Dicers and thimbleriggers we hurried by after the hoofs. Where Cranly led me to get rich quick. Stephen stood up. Mr Deasy bade his keys. Mr Deasy said. nuzzling thirstily her clove of orange.

The pluterperfect imperturbability of the department of agriculture. Percentage of salted horses. Just look through it. Serum and virus. May I trespass on your valuable space. European conflagration.Ulysses —I have put the matter into a nutshell. Allimportant question. In every sense of the word take the bull by the horns. Pardoned a classical allusion. —I don’t mince words. Mr Henry Blackwood Price. The way of all our old industries. lower Austria. Courteous offer a fair trial. Veterinary surgeons. There can be no two opinions on the matter. Rinderpest. Thanking you for the hospitality of your columns. That doctrine of laissez faire which so often in our history. Our cattle trade. 58 of 1305 . Emperor’s horses at Murzsteg. Known as Koch’s preparation. By a woman who was no better than she should be. Cassandra. Liverpool ring which jockeyed the Galway harbour scheme. It is cured. Foot and mouth disease. To come to the point at issue. Dictates of common sense. Mr Deasy said. And it can be cured. Grain supplies through the narrow waters of the channel. do I? Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on. Mr Deasy said. You will see at the next outbreak they will put an embargo on Irish cattle. —I want that to be printed and read. It’s about the foot and mouth disease.

if not dead by now. I am trying to work up influence with the department. by . Now I’m going to try publicity. The harlot’s cry from street to street Shall weave old England’s windingsheet. her press. As sure as we are standing here the jew merchants are already at their work of destruction. In all the highest places: her finance. intrigues by . They offer to come over here. —Dying. He stepped swiftly off. writes to me it is regularly treated and cured in Austria by cattledoctors there.... Blackwood Price.. He raised his forefinger and beat the air oldly before his voice spoke. he said again. he said. Wherever they gather they eat up the nation’s vital strength. I have seen it coming these years. Mr Dedalus... I am surrounded by difficulties. His eyes open wide in vision stared sternly across the sunbeam in which he halted.Ulysses My cousin. backstairs influence by . —Mark my words. Old England is dying. 59 of 1305 . He faced about and back again. And they are the signs of a nation’s decay. his eyes coming to blue life as they passed a broad sunbeam. England is in the hands of the jews.

On the steps of the Paris stock exchange the goldskinned men quoting prices on their gemmed fingers. is one who buys cheap and sells dear. the gestures eager and unoffending. this speech. knew the dishonours of their flesh. uncouth about the temple. is he not? —They sinned against the light.Ulysses —A merchant. Time surely would scatter all. He came forward a pace and stood by the table. Not theirs: these clothes. but knew the rancours massed about them and knew their zeal was vain. patient. His underjaw fell sideways open uncertainly. And you can see the darkness in their eyes. —Who has not? Stephen said. Their eyes knew their years of wandering and. jew or gentile. Stephen said. 60 of 1305 . Gabble of geese. Vain patience to heap and hoard. —History. Stephen said. their heads thickplotting under maladroit silk hats. is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake. And that is why they are wanderers on the earth to this day. Mr Deasy said gravely. A hoard heaped by the roadside: plundered and passing on. They swarmed loud. Is this old wisdom? He waits to hear from me. these gestures. —What do you mean? Mr Deasy asked. Their full slow eyes belied the words.

prince of Breffni. MacMurrough’s wife and her leman. Many errors.Ulysses From the playfield the boys raised a shout. A whirring whistle: goal. —A shout in the street. he said. ten years the Greeks made war on Troy. A woman brought sin into the world. A faithless wife first brought the strangers to our shore here. Mr Deasy said. saying: —That is God. For a woman who was no better than she should be. the runaway wife of Menelaus. Looking up again he set them free. —I am happier than you are. Stephen answered. Stephen jerked his thumb towards the window. Hooray! Ay! Whrrwhee! —What? Mr Deasy asked. Mr Deasy looked down and held for awhile the wings of his nose tweaked between his fingers. Helen. the manifestation of God. many 61 of 1305 . What if that nightmare gave you a back kick? —The ways of the Creator are not our ways. We have committed many errors and many sins. A woman too brought Parnell low. All human history moves towards one great goal. O’Rourke. shrugging his shoulders.

I know two editors slightly. But life is the great teacher. and let you know tomorrow. I am a struggler now at the end of my days. —I will try. There is a meeting of the 62 of 1305 . For Ulster will fight And Ulster will be right. Mr Deasy said. Perhaps I am wrong. —That will do. You have two copies there. —As regards these. he began.Ulysses failures but not the one sin. Irish Homestead. Stephen said. But I will fight for the right till the end. M. To learn one must be humble. he began .. —A learner rather. I think. —Yes. sir.P. Telegraph. Stephen said. Stephen rustled the sheets again. You were not born to be a teacher. that you will not remain here very long at this work. —I foresee. —Who knows? he said. Mr Deasy said. Stephen raised the sheets in his hand. And here what will you learn more? Mr Deasy shook his head. Mr Deasy said briskly.. If you can have them published at once. I wrote last night to Mr Field. —Well.

old as I am. Thank you. Mulligan will dub me a new name: the bullockbefriending bard. Mr Deasy halted. turning back at the gate. Stephen said. putting the sheets in his pocket. sir. breathing hard and swallowing his breath. Still I will help him in his fight. I asked him to lay my letter before the meeting. Stephen said again.Ulysses cattletraders’ association today at the City Arms hotel. He went out by the open porch and down the gravel path under the trees.. You see if you can get it into your two papers. —Mr Dedalus! Running after me. There is no time to lose. Now I have to answer that letter from my cousin. What are they? —The Evening Telegraph . bowing to his bent back. —Yes. hearing the cries of voices and crack of sticks from the playfield. —Good morning. Mr Deasy said as he searched the papers on his desk. sir. 63 of 1305 . Stephen said. Mr Deasy said. —That will do. sir.. I hope. I like to break a lance with you. —Good morning. —Not at all. —Just one moment. No more letters. The lions couchant on the pillars as he passed out through the gate: toothless terrors.

coughing. bluesilver. And do you know why? He frowned sternly on the bright air. sir? Stephen asked. That’s why. Ireland. —Because she never let them in. Snotgreen. Then he 64 of 1305 . On his wise shoulders through the checkerwork of leaves the sun flung spangles.Ulysses —I just wanted to say. he said. Signatures of all things I am here to read. But he adds: in bodies. He turned back quickly. —Why. Mr Deasy said solemnly. laughing. he cried again through his laughter as he stamped on gaitered feet over the gravel of the path. seaspawn and seawrack. thought through my eyes. his lifted arms waving to the air. Limits of the diaphane. —She never let them in. beginning to smile. that rusty boot. rust: coloured signs. has the honour of being the only country which never persecuted the jews. dancing coins. Do you know that? No. ***** Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more. the nearing tide. they say. A coughball of laughter leaped from his throat dragging after it a rattling chain of phlegm.

Shut your eyes and see. Tap with it: they do. Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? Crush. Limit of the diaphane in. Madeline the mare? 65 of 1305 . Wild sea money. Jesus! If I fell over a cliff that beetles o’er his base. My ash sword hangs at my side. How? By knocking his sconce against them. nebeneinander. Bald he was and a millionaire. crick. maestro di color che sanno. six: the nacheinander. crick. if not a door. A very short space of time through very short times of space. fell through the nebeneinander ineluctably! I am getting on nicely in the dark. Open your eyes. Why in? Diaphane.Ulysses was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. Go easy. a stride at a time. Five. Stephen closed his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and shells. Exactly: and that is the ineluctable modality of the audible. sure. If you can put your five fingers through it it is a gate. crack. Sounds solid: made by the mallet of Los Demiurgos. I am. adiaphane. Dominie Deasy kens them a’. Won’t you come to Sandymount. No. My two feet in his boots are at the ends of his legs. You are walking through it howsomever.

out for the day. From the liberties. one. Aleph. Belly without blemish. There all the time without you: and ever shall be. coming down to our mighty mother. Open your eyes now. 66 of 1305 . One of her sisterhood lugged me squealing into life. you see. world without end. Put me on to Edenville. Creation from nothing. Will you be as gods? Gaze in your omphalos. Number one swung lourdily her midwife’s bag. hushed in ruddy wool. of Bride Street. like Algy. their splayed feet sinking in the silted sand. The cords of all link back. They came down the steps from Leahy’s terrace prudently. I will. alpha: nought. deeply lamented. Hello! Kinch here. Gaze. Basta! I will see if I can see. I hear. strandentwining cable of all flesh. She had no navel. agallop: deline the mare. relict of the late Patk MacCabe. Spouse and helpmate of Adam Kadmon: Heva. See now. the other’s gamp poked in the beach. naked Eve. What has she in the bag? A misbirth with a trailing navelcord. nought. One moment. No. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. Mrs Florence MacCabe. Has all vanished since? If I open and am for ever in the black adiaphane. Frauenzimmer: and down the shelving shore flabbily.Ulysses Rhythm begins. That is why mystic monks. Like me.

the steeds of Mananaan. I must. A lex eterna stays about Him. the man with my voice and my eyes and a ghostwoman with ashes on her breath. Yes. 67 of 1305 . made not begotten. nipping and eager airs. And after? The Ship. no. Illstarred heresiarch’ In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last: euthanasia. a buckler of taut vellum. They clasped and sundered. with upstiffed omophorion. From before the ages He willed me and now may not will me away or ever. brightwindbridled. 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. with clotted hinderparts. With beaded mitre and with crozier. half twelve. orient and immortal. champing. By them. I mustn’t forget his letter for the press.Ulysses bulging big. Wombed in sin darkness I was too. whiteheaped corn. standing from everlasting to everlasting. widower of a widowed see. stalled upon his throne. did the coupler’s will. Airs romped round him. Womb of sin. waves. By the way go easy with that money like a good young imbecile. They are coming. The whitemaned seahorses.

—It’s Stephen. Stephen. In his broad bed nuncle Richie. Let Stephen in. The drunken little costdrawer and his brother. —Let him in. sir. He has washed the upper moiety. by Christ! I pull the wheezy bell of their shuttered cottage: and wait. eh? And and and and tell us. how is uncle Si? O. They take me for a dun. Here. 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 that. sir. He lays aside the lapboard whereon he drafts his bills of costs for the eyes of master Goff and master Shapland 68 of 1305 . Am I going to aunt Sara’s or not? My consubstantial father’s voice. Jesus wept: and no wonder. weeping God. No. —Morrow. Cleanchested. the things I married into! De boys up in de hayloft.Ulysses His pace slackened. extends over the hillock of his knees a sturdy forearm. A bolt drawn back and Walter welcomes me. Yes. pillowed and blanketed. nephew. —We thought you were someone else. Highly respectable gondoliers! And skeweyed Walter sirring his father. the cornet player. no less! Sir. sir. peer out from a coign of vantage.

Lump of love. you mug. Whusky! —Uncle Richie. The rich of a rasher fried with a herring? Sure? So much the better. filing consents and common searches and a writ of Duces Tecum. Listen. —Call me Richie.Ulysses Tandy. A bogoak frame over his bald head: Wilde’s Requiescat. Would you like a bite of something? None of your damned lawdeedaw airs here. Bring in our chippendale chair. really . The grandest number. Papa’s little bedpal. sir. —Sit down or by the law Harry I’ll knock you down.. The drone of his misleading whistle brings Walter back. sir. —He has nothing to sit down on. Damn your lithia water. —No. Walter squints vainly for a chair. in the whole opera.. 69 of 1305 . Stephen. —Yes.. Where is she? —Bathing Crissie. It lowers. All’erta! He drones bars of Ferrando’s aria di sortita. tell mother. uncle Richie . We have nothing in the house but backache pills. sir? —Malt for Richie and Stephen.. —He has nowhere to put it.

Buck Mulligan. You told the Clongowes gentry you had an uncle a judge and an uncle a general in the army. Temple. Nor in the stagnant bay of Marsh’s library where you read the fading prophecies of Joachim Abbas. Abbas father. Beauty is not there. Houyhnhnm. For whom? The hundredheaded rabble of the cathedral close. the snorted Latin of jackpriests moving burly in their albs. fat with the fat of kidneys of wheat. assisting about the altar’s horns. his eyeballs stars.— furious dean. his and all. ut ne amplius decalveris. tonsured and oiled and gelded. The oval equine faces. This wind is sweeter. calve. Stephen. what offence laid fire to their brains? Paff! Descende. with rushes of the air. A garland of grey hair on his comminated head see him me clambering down to the footpace (descende!). Foxy Campbell. Houses of decay. finely shaded. horsenostrilled.Ulysses His tuneful whistle sounds again. baldpoll! A choir gives back menace and echo. Come out of them. clutching a monstrance. mine. his fists bigdrumming on his padded knees. 70 of 1305 . his mane foaming in the moon. Get down. Lanternjaws. A hater of his kind ran from them to the wood of madness. basiliskeyed.

certo! Sell your soul for that. Isle of saints. Dringadring! And in a ladychapel another taking housel all to his own cheek. You were awfully holy. forward. stepping forward to applause earnestly. eh? I was young. Dringdring! And two streets off another locking it into a pyx. Dringdring! Down. invincible doctor. 71 of 1305 .Ulysses And at the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it. heard (now I am lifting) their two bells (he is kneeling) twang in diphthong. A misty English morning the imp hypostasis tickled his brain. weren’t you? You prayed to the Blessed Virgin that you might not have a red nose. more still!! On the top of the Howth tram alone crying to the rain: Naked women! naked women! What about that. More tell me. dyed rags pinned round a squaw. Dan Occam thought of that. You bowed to yourself in the mirror. Bringing his host down and kneeling he heard twine with his second bell the first bell in the transept (he is lifting his) and. You prayed to the devil in Serpentine avenue that the fubsy widow in front might lift her clothes still more from the wet street. eh? What about what? What else were they invented for? Reading two pages apiece of seven books every night. rising. you will never be a saint. do. Cousin Stephen. back. up. O si. striking face.

Broken hoops on the shore. His boots trod again a damp crackling mast. very like a whale. including Alexandria? Someone was to read them there after a few thousand years. A porterbottle stood up.. Have you read his F? O yes. in the cakey sand dough. He coasted them. lost Armada.Ulysses Hurray for the Goddamned idiot! Hray! No-one saw: tell no-one. Books you were going to write with letters for titles. a mahamanvantara. W. Pico della Mirandola like. at the land a maze of dark cunning nets. O yes. but I prefer Q. a pocket of seaweed smouldered in seafire under a midden of man’s ashes. Yes. wood sieved by the shipworm. When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels that one is at one with one who once . razorshells. Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves. breathing upward sewage breath. copies to be sent if you died to all the great libraries of the world. but W is wonderful. farther away chalkscrawled backdoors and on the higher beach a 72 of 1305 . deeply deep. Ay. The grainy sand had gone from under his feet. walking warily. that on the unnumbered pebbles beats. squeaking pebbles. Unwholesome sandflats waited to suck his treading soles. stogged to its waist. A sentinel: isle of dreadful thirst..

Moi. Patrice. je suis socialiste. plump bunny’s face. chimiques et 73 of 1305 . About the nature of women he read in Michelet. lapin. No-one about. He turned northeast and crossed the firmer sand towards the Pigeonhouse. He halted. —Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position? —c’est le pigeon. But he must send me La Vie de Jesus by M. Human shells. I have passed the way to aunt Sara’s. You were a student.. —C’est tordant. oui. Ringsend: wigwams of brown steersmen and master mariners. Lent it to his friend. home on furlough. My father’s a bird. I want puce gloves. C. N. Schluss. Kevin Egan of Paris. Son of the wild goose. Lap. Je ne crois pas en l’existence de Dieu. —Il croit? —Mon pere. weren’t you? Of what in the other devil’s name? Paysayenn. Faut pas le dire a mon p-re. He laps. Joseph. we simply must dress the character. My Latin quarter hat. God. He hopes to win in the gros lots. lapped warm milk with me in the bar MacMahon. Am I not going there? Seems not. P.Ulysses dryingline with two crucified shirts. Leo Taxil. you know: physiques. he lapped the sweet lait chaud with pink young tongue. vous savez.

Not hurt? O. Shake a shake. see? O. O. Shake hands. Bits all khrrrrklak in place clack back. what? Missionary to Europe after fiery Columbanus. loudlatinlaughing: Euge! Euge! Pretending to speak broken English as you dragged your valise. You seem to have enjoyed yourself. Whom were you trying to walk like? Forget: a dispossessed. eight shillings. porter threepence. nose. Eating your groatsworth of mou en civet. 74 of 1305 . Hunger toothache. Must get. You were going to do wonders. With mother’s money order. Aha. that’s all only all right. that’s all right. On the night of the seventeenth of February 1904 the prisoner was seen by two witnesses. elbowed by belching cabmen. Just say in the most natural tone: when I was in Paris. Fiacre and Scotus on their creepystools in heaven spilt from their pintpots. used to carry punched tickets to prove an alibi if they arrested you for murder somewhere. Proudly walking. I used to. Other fellow did it: other me.Ulysses naturelles. fleshpots of Egypt. bits man spattered walls all brass buttons. that’s all right. Lui. boul’ Mich’. Justice. Hired dog! Shoot him to bloody bits with a bang shotgun. Look clock. Ferme. c’est moi. Hat. Yes. the banging door of the post office slammed in your face by the usher. tie. Encore deux minutes. See what I meant. overcoat.

along by the boulders of the south wall. In Rodot’s Yvonne and Madeleine newmake their tumbled beauties. curiosity to show: —Mother dying come home father. the froggreen wormwood. Comment? Rich booty you brought back. He stared at them proudly. the lemon houses. 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.Ulysses across the slimy pier at Newhaven. Paris rawly waking. Moist pith of farls of bread. the slender trees. Gold light on sea. The sun is there. Belluomo rises from the bed of his wife’s lover’s wife. her matin incense. five tattered numbers of Pantalon Blanc et Culotte Rouge. 75 of 1305 . on boulders. The aunt thinks you killed your mother. Le Tutu. court the air. shattering with gold teeth chaussons of pastry. That’s why she won’t. a blue French telegram. crude sunlight on her lemon streets. the kerchiefed housewife is astir. a saucer of acetic acid in her hand. piled stone mammoth skulls. His feet marched in sudden proud rhythm over the sand furrows. on sand.

conspiracies. of Arthur Griffith now.Ulysses their mouths yellowed with the pus of flan breton. their wellpleased pleasers. His fustian shirt. About us gobblers fork spiced beans down their gullets. sipping his green fairy as Patrice his white. Il est irlandais. To yoke me as his yokefellow. 76 of 1305 . You’re your father’s son. Of Ireland. She serves me at his beck. Well: slainte! Around the slabbed tables the tangle of wined breaths and grumbling gorges. curled conquistadores. the Dalcassians. Drumont. know what he called queen Victoria? Old hag with the yellow teeth. oui! She thought you wanted a cheese hollandais. queer fellow. Noon slumbers. Irlande. There was a fellow I knew once in Barcelona. sanguineflowered. nous. used to call it his postprandial. do you know that word? Postprandial. vous savez ah. good shepherd of men. Hollandais? Non fromage. pimander. Drumont. I know the voice. Your postprandial. Faces of Paris men go by. our crimes our common cause. His breath hangs over our saucestained plates. famous journalist. of hopes. Un demi setier! A jet of coffee steam from the burnished caldron. Deux irlandais. M. Kevin Egan rolls gunpowder cigarettes through fingers smeared with printer’s ink. A E. trembles its Spanish tassels at his secrets. the green fairy’s fang thrusting between his lips.

Ulysses Vieille ogresse with the dents jaunes. bonne a tout faire. Loose tobaccoshreds catch fire: a flame and acrid smoke light our corner. faith. know how he died? Licentious men. for her love he prowled with colonel Richard Burke. I wouldn’t let my brother. crouching. beautiful woman. I feel. unsought by any save 77 of 1305 . I tell you. Egan of Paris. gone. Moi faire. The blue fuse burns deadly between hands and burns clear. Lover. Disguises. saw a flame of vengeance hurl them upward in the fog. orangeblossoms. tanist of his sept. Millevoye. not here. Of lost leaders. I’ll show you my likeness one day. M. La Patrie. The froeken. not even my own brother. authentic version. Fang. I was a strapping young gossoon at that time. she said. I see you. In gay Paree he hides. Got up as a young bride. How the head centre got away. drove out the road to Malahide. I said. Not this Monsieur. clutched at. under the walls of Clerkenwell and. veil. I was. faith. Shattered glass and toppling masonry. Green eyes. man. most lascivious thing. Bath a most private thing. Spurned lover. who rubs male nakedness in the bath at Upsala. Lascivious people. Most licentious custom. wild escapes. Did. Tous les messieurs. Raw facebones under his peep of day boy’s hat. the betrayed. Maud Gonne. Felix Faure.

Ulysses by me. canary and two buck lodgers. Spurned and undespairing. not he them. She is quite nicey comfy without her outcast man. O THE BOYS OF KILKENNY .. O. He takes me. Old Kilkenny: saint Canice. They have forgotten Kevin Egan. madame in rue Git-leCoeur. his three taverns. The new air greeted him. the dingy printingcase. Napper Tandy. Weak wasting hand on mine. landless. soldier of France. the Montmartre lair he sleeps short night in. Peachy cheeks. a zebra skirt. won’t you? I wanted to get poor Pat a job one time. Mon fils. wind of wild air of seeds of brightness. Goes like this. am I? He stood 78 of 1305 . Strongbow’s castle on the Nore. O. He had come nearer the edge of the sea and wet sand slapped his boots. wifeless. Tell Pat you saw me. Loveless. I am not walking out to the Kish lightship. by the hand. rue de la Goutte-d’Or. Remembering thee. frisky as a young thing’s. O. O Sion. harping in wild nerves. damascened with flyblown faces of the gone.. I taught him to sing The boys of Kilkenny are stout roaring blades. Making his day’s stations. Here. Know that old lay? I taught Patrice that.

Take all. A bloated carcass of a dog lay lolled on bladderwrack. keep all. So in the moon’s midwatches I pace the path above the rocks. The flood is following me. A shut door of a silent tower. creeping duskward over the dial floor. around a board of abandoned platters. Before him the gunwale of a boat. Blue dusk. the panthersahib and his pointer. Un coche 79 of 1305 . Call: no answer. in sable silvered. In the darkness of the dome they wait. form of forms. entombing their—blind bodies. I can watch it flow past from here. his feet beginning to sink slowly in the quaking soil. My soul walks with me. he scanned the shore south. my obelisk valise. Through the barbacans the shafts of light are moving ever. resting his ashplant in a grike. sunk in sand. his feet sinking again slowly in new sockets. Who to clear it? He has the key. their pushedback chairs. Turning. He climbed over the sedge and eely oarweeds and sat on a stool of rock. Get back then by the Poolbeg road to the strand there.Ulysses suddenly. He lifted his feet up from the suck and turned back by the mole of boulders. hearing Elsinore’s tempting flood. nightfall. deep blue night. The cold domed room of the tower waits. slowly ever as my feet are sinking. I will not sleep there when this night comes. Turn back.

I’m the bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well boulders. their bloodbeaked prows riding low on a molten pewter surf. I zmellz de bloodz odz an Iridzman. figures. I have my stick. The two maries. in quest of prey. a warren of weasel rats. Hide gold there. is he going to attack me? Respect his liberty. grew into sight running across the sweep of sand. These heavy sands are language tide and wind have silted here. Who? Galleys of the Lochlanns ran here to beach. And these. From farther away. A school of turlehide whales stranded in hot noon. Feefawfum. two. Dane vikings. with 80 of 1305 . the stoneheaps of dead builders. No. hobbling in the shallows. Sands and stones. bones for my steppingstones. I see you. spouting.Ulysses ensablé Louis Veuillot called Gautier’s prose. Heavy of the past. Peekaboo. You will not be master of others or their slave. Lord. live dog. Mind you don’t get one bang on the ear. He is running back to them. Try it. A point. my people. Sit tight. Then from the starving cagework city a horde of jerkined dwarfs. the dog. They have tucked it safe mong the bulrushes. torcs of tomahawks aglitter on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold. You have some. walking shoreward across from the crested tide. Sir Lout’s toys.

I would want to. Their blood is in me. He saved men from drowning and you shake at a cur’s yelping. with a tail of nans and sutlers. I spoke to no-one: none to me. Perkin Warbeck.. The Bruce’s brother. running. The dog’s bark ran towards him. hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. Thomas Fitzgerald. smiled on my fear. I would try. Paradise of pretenders then and now. scaling. ran back. a lifebuoy. their lusts my waves. Dog of my enemy. Natürlich. and Lambert Simnel. We don’t want any of your medieval abstrusiosities.. stopped. For that are you pining. silent. The truth. fortune’s knave. I moved among them on the frozen Liffey. I am not a strong swimmer. Famine. spit it out. Would you or would you not? The man that was drowned nine days ago off Maiden’s rock. Would you do what he did? A boat would be near. Water cold 81 of 1305 . House of . in breeches of silk of whiterose ivory. put there for you. wonder of a day.Ulysses flayers’ knives. A primrose doublet. a changeling. bayed about. the bark of their applause? Pretenders: live their lives. silken knight. among the spluttering resin fires. plague and slaughters. They are waiting for him now. All kings’ sons. But the courtiers who mocked Guido in Or san Michele were in their own house. that I. Terribilia meditans. York’s false scion. I just simply stood pale. a scullion crowned.

plashing. from farther out. breaking.. seawardpointed ears. I bet. trotting.Ulysses soft. A woman and a man. came nearer. unattired.. quickly! Do you see the tide flowing quickly in on all sides. Waters: bitter death: lost. Their dog ambled about a bank of dwindling sand. mine to be mine. from far. I want his life still to be his. shellcocoacoloured? If I had land under my feet. sniffing on all sides. His snout lifted barked at the wavenoise. 82 of 1305 . On a field tenney a buck. When I put my face into it in the basin at Clongowes. sheeting the lows of sand quickly. They serpented towards his feet. curling. He turned. trotted on twinkling shanks. I could not save her. With him together down .. herds of seamorse. His human eyes scream to me out of horror of his death. I . waves and waves. every ninth. I see her skirties. ears flung back. Suddenly he made off like a bounding hare. proper. unfurling many crests. The man’s shrieked whistle struck his limp ears. Can’t see! Who’s behind me? Out quickly. bounded back. Pinned up. trippant. chasing the shadow of a lowskimming gull. At the lacefringe of the tide he halted with stiff forehoofs. A drowning man. Looking for something lost in a past life..

nosing closer. stooping. Ah. Along by the edge of the mole he lolloped. poor dogsbody! Here lies poor dogsbody’s body. His hindpaws then scattered the sand: then his forepaws dabbled and delved. sniffling rapidly like a dog all over the dead dog’s bedraggled fell. reared up and pawed them. He trotted forward and. you mongrel! The cry brought him skulking back to his master and a blunt bootless kick sent him unscathed across a spit of sand. crouched in flight. His speckled body ambled ahead of them and then loped off at a calf’s gallop. —Tatters! Out of that. He slunk back in a curve. He stopped. dogsniff. a rag of wolf’s tongue redpanting from his jaws. brother. They waded a little way in the water and. lifting again his hindleg. smelt a rock. Dogskull. and from under a cocked hindleg pissed against it. went round it. waded out. pissed quick short at an unsmelt rock. sniffed. dropping on all fours.Ulysses Cocklepickers. The carcass lay on his path. lifting them again. The dog yelped running to them. 83 of 1305 . soused their bags and. again reared up at them with mute bearish fawning. The simple pleasures of the poor. Unheeded he kept by them as they came towards the drier sand. moves to one great goal. dawdled. eyes on the ground. stalked round it. Doesn’t see me.

a pard. his helpmate. Spoils slung at her back. That man led me. His blued feet out of turnedup trousers slapped the clammy sand. The melon he had he held against my face. I am almosting it. Haroun al Raschid. Remember. He rooted in the sand. That was the rule. Her fancyman is treating two Royal Dublins in O’Loughlin’s of Blackpitts. spoke. for. soon ceasing. Loose sand and shellgrit crusted her bare feet. a panther. You will see who. got in spousebreach. bing awast to Romeville. O. Open hallway. his grandmother. Come. a dull brick muffler strangling his unshaven neck. the red Egyptians. Red carpet spread. Street of harlots. After he woke me last night same dream or was it? Wait. Buss her. scraped up the sand again with a fury of his claws. wap in rogues’ rum lingo. In. When night hides her body’s flaws calling under her brown shawl from an archway where dogs have mired. my dimber wapping dell! A shefiend’s 84 of 1305 . dabbling. vulturing the dead. said. delving and stopped to listen to the air. I was not afraid. Behind her lord.Ulysses Something he buried there. With woman steps she followed: the ruffian and his strolling mort. Shouldering their bags they trudged. About her windraw face hair trailed. Smiled: creamfruit smell.

bed of death. Monkwords. He comes. red thy gan And thy quarrons dainty is. Across the sands of all the world. If I were suddenly naked here as I sit? I am not. In sleep the wet sign calls her hour. drags. Tides. White thy fambles. Call away let him: thy quarrons dainty is. She trudges. A side eye at my Hamlet hat. to the west.Ulysses whiteness under her rancid rags. trekking to evening lands. myriadislanded. childbed. followed by the sun’s flaming sword. a winedark sea. Unfallen Adam rode and not rutted. blood not mine. ghostcandled. Fumbally’s lane that night: the tanyard smells. within her. Behold the handmaid of the moon. trascines her load. schlepps. oinopa ponton. Passing now. frate porcospino. in her wake. Language no whit worse than his. Omnis caro ad te veniet. moondrawn. Bridebed. A tide westering. Morose delectation Aquinas tunbelly calls this. bids her rise. marybeads jabber on their girdles: roguewords. trains. Couch a hogshead with me then. through storm his 85 of 1305 . pale vampire. In the darkmans clip and kiss. tough nuggets patter in their pockets.

Mouth to her mouth’s kiss. roaring wayawayawayawayaway. call it back. His shadow lay over the rocks as he bent. I throw this ended shadow from me. Why not endless till the farthest star? Darkly they are there behind this light. darkness shining in the brightness. unbeheld. That’s twice I forgot to take slips from the library counter. The banknotes. Endless. No. Put a pin in that chap. will you? My tablets. Me sits there with his augur’s rod of ash. His lips lipped and mouthed fleshless lips of air: mouth to her moomb. Old Deasy’s letter. his bat sails bloodying the sea. worlds. Here. Oomb. Must be two of em. manshape ineluctable. ending. His mouth moulded issuing breath. blazing. globed. form of my form? Who watches me here? Who 86 of 1305 . Thanking you for the hospitality tear the blank end off. unspeeched: ooeeehah: roar of cataractic planets. delta of Cassiopeia. mouth to her mouth’s kiss. by day beside a livid sea.Ulysses eyes. Glue em well. Here. would it be mine. Mouth to her kiss. allwombing tomb. in borrowed sandals. in violet night walking beneath a reign of uncouth stars. blast them. Paper. Turning his back to the sun he bent over far to a table of rock and scribbled words.

Ah. She. Where are your wits? 87 of 1305 . darned with lumpy wool. Flat I see. Somewhere to someone in your flutiest voice. a lady of letters. Bet she wears those curse of God stays suspenders and yellow stockings.Ulysses ever anywhere will read these written words? Signs on a white field. piuttosto. Darkness is in our souls do you not think? Flutier. She trusts me. east. Keen glance you gave her. 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. frozen in stereoscope. the more the more. then think distance. far. Coloured on a flat: yes. see now! Falls back suddenly. You find my words dark. Hold hard. Wrist through the braided jesse of her sunshade. near. she. Talk that to someone else. flat I see. shamewounded by our sins. back. she. She lives in Leeson park with a grief and kickshaws. her hand gentle. Click does the trick. cling to us yet more. Stevie: a pickmeup. that’s right. a woman to her lover clinging. What she? The virgin at Hodges Figgis’ window on Monday looking in for one of the alphabet books you were going to write. the longlashed eyes. Our souls. Talk about apple dumplings. Now where the blue hell am I bringing her beyond the veil? Into the ineluctable modality of the ineluctable visuality.

a brother soul: Wilde’s love that dare not speak its name. Et erant valde bona. I am caught in this burning scene. And no more turn aside and brood. He counted the creases of rucked leather wherein another’s foot had nested warm. His gaze brooded on his broadtoed boots. I am lonely here. Pan’s hour. quel petit pied! Staunch friend. His hat down on his eyes. What is that word known to all men? I am quiet here alone. That is Kevin Egan’s movement I made. He lay back at full stretch over the sharp rocks. cramming the scribbled note and pencil into a pock his hat. sabbath sleep. Alo! Bonjour. touch me soon. Soft soft soft hand. nodding for his nap. a buck’s castoffs. Sad too. milkoozing fruits. The foot that beat the ground in tripudium. Under its leaf he watched through peacocktwittering lashes the southing sun. 88 of 1305 . But you were delighted when Esther Osvalt’s shoe went on you: girl I knew in Paris. the faunal noon. O. Et vidit Deus. Tiens. now. Soft eyes. Among gumheavy serpentplants. foot I dislove. Touch. nebeneinander. Welcome as the flowers in May.Ulysses Touch me. Pain is far. where on the tawny waters leaves lie wide. touch me.

waiting. chafing against the low rocks. To no end gathered. she draws a toil of waters. No. Saint Ambrose heard it. rocks. forthflowing. And the blame? As I am. and. they sigh. flower unfurling. He now will leave me. Vehement breath of waters amid seasnakes. In cups of rocks it slops: flop. My ashplant will float away. awaiting the fullness of their times. hrss. slap: bounded in barrels. ooos. It flows purling. swirling. I shall wait. diebus ac noctibus iniurias patiens ingemiscit. rearing horses. In long lassoes from the Cock lake the water flowed full. widely flowing. covering greengoldenly lagoons of sand. slop. And. lascivious men. floating foampool. hising up their petticoats. in whispering water swaying and upturning coy silver fronds. wending back: loom of the moon. spent. its speech ceases. Day by day: night by night: lifted. they will pass on. a naked woman shining in her courts. sigh of leaves and waves. flowing. As I am. rising. whispered to. rsseeiss. passing. 89 of 1305 . passing. flooded and let fall. vainly then released. Lord. Weary too in sight of lovers. Listen: a fourworded wavespeech: seesoo. they are weary.Ulysses His arm: Cranly’s arm. All or not at all. Better get this job over quick. Under the upswelling tide he saw the writhing weeds lift languidly and sway reluctant arms.

Ulysses Five fathoms out there. his leprous nosehole snoring to the sun. A corpse rising saltwhite from the undertow. fanshoals of fishes. We have him. brown eyes saltblue. fat of a spongy titbit. No black clouds anywhere. mildest of all deaths known to man. Pull. We enjoyed ourselves immensely. Clouding over. flash through the slits of his buttoned trouserfly. Allbright he falls. I thirst. 90 of 1305 . Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine. Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. Just you give it a fair trial. qui nescit occasum. dico. Dead breaths I living breathe. A seachange this. are there? Thunderstorm. There he is. At one. Prix de paris: beware of imitations. proud lightning of the intellect. Old Father Ocean. Evening will find itself. Where? To evening lands. Driving before it a loose drift of rubble. God becomes man becomes fish becomes barnacle goose becomes featherbed mountain. Found drowned. Easy now. he said. Come. My cockle hat and staff and hismy sandal shoon. Hauled stark over the gunwale he breathes upward the stench of his green grave. bobbing a pace a pace a porpoise landward. devour a urinous offal from all dead. No. Hook it quick. silly shells. A quiver of minnows. Lucifer. tread dead dust. Full fathom five thy father lies. High water at Dublin bar. Seadeath.

or does it mean something perhaps? My handkerchief. without me. I wonder. gentleman journalist. No. a silent ship. For the old hag with the yellow teeth. I remember. upstream. carefully. Shells. the rum tum tiddledy tum. He threw it. Yes. He laid the dry snot picked from his nostril on a ledge of rock. Why is that. My teeth are very bad. Già. And Monsieur Drumont. All days make their end. dallying still. Better buy one. her sails brailed up on the crosstrees. Of all the glad new year. I didn’t. the superman. silently moving. lunging with it softly. evening will find itself in me. 91 of 1305 .Ulysses He took the hilt of his ashplant. with that money? That one. Lawn Tennyson. mother. rere regardant. That one is going too. Ought I go to a dentist. Behind. Già. Did I not take it up? His hand groped vainly in his pockets. Why. Perhaps there is someone. I wonder. homing. By the way next when is it Tuesday will be the longest day. I wonder. For the rest let look who will. Toothless Kinch. Feel. Moving through the air high spars of a threemaster. This. gentleman poet. He turned his face over a shoulder.

four: right. Right. its spout stuck out. —Mkgnao! —O. She didn’t like her plate full. 92 of 1305 . He liked thick giblet soup. a stuffed roast heart. righting her breakfast things on the humpy tray. Kidneys were in his mind as he moved about the kitchen softly. Mouth dry. nutty gizzards. fried hencods’ roes. It sat there. Made him feel a bit peckish. The coals were reddening. Cup of tea soon. Mr Bloom said. He turned from the tray. The cat walked stiffly round a leg of the table with tail on high. turning from the fire. Good. Another slice of bread and butter: three.Ulysses II Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. liverslices fried with crustcrumbs. dull and squat. there you are. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine. Gelid light and air were in the kitchen but out of doors gentle summer morning everywhere. lifted the kettle off the hob and set it sideways on the fire.

Ulysses The cat mewed in answer and stalked again stiffly round a leg of the table. I never saw such a stupid pussens as the pussens. Afraid of the chookchooks. —Milk for the pussens. He bent down to her. Just how she stalks over my writingtable. he said mockingly. She blinked up out of her avid shameclosing eyes. kindly the lithe black form. she can jump me. he said. Her nature. Then he went to the 93 of 1305 . Vindictive too. Prr. They call them stupid. —Mrkrgnao! the cat said loudly. Seem to like it. Curious mice never squeal. —Mrkgnao! the cat cried. mewing plaintively and long. Cruel. Wonder what I look like to her. Scratch my head. Height of a tower? No. the green flashing eyes. —Afraid of the chickens she is. Seem to like it. He watched the dark eyeslits narrowing with greed till her eyes were green stones. Her nature. Mr Bloom watched curiously. Cruel. They understand what we say better than we understand them. Curious mice never squeal. the white button under the butt of her tail. Prr. mewing. She understands all she wants to. showing him her milkwhite teeth. Clean to see: the gloss of her sleek hide. his hands on his knees.

Thursday: not a good day either for a mutton kidney at Buckley’s. Why? They shine in the dark. a shake of pepper. 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. the tips. He said softly in the bare hall: —I’m going round the corner. Want pure fresh water. then licking the saucer clean. Fried with butter. poured warmbubbled milk on a saucer and set it slowly on the floor. Better a pork kidney at Dlugacz’s. Nothing she can eat? He glanced round him. On quietly creaky boots he went up the staircase to the hall. Ham and eggs. paused by the bedroom door. No. She lapped slower. Be back in a minute. Why are their tongues so rough? To lap better. No good eggs with this drouth. perhaps. And when he had heard his voice say it he added: 94 of 1305 . While the kettle is boiling. She might like something tasty. Thin bread and butter she likes in the morning. —Gurrhr! she cried.Ulysses dresser. took the jug Hanlon’s milkman had just filled for him. all porous holes. Or kind of feelers in the dark. He listened to her licking lap. running to lap. Still perhaps: once in a way. no. perhaps.

and I’m proud of it. At Plevna that was. Daresay lots of officers are in the swim too. All the way from Gibraltar. No use disturbing her. He pulled the halldoor 95 of 1305 . sir. Old style. Now that was farseeing. His hand took his hat from the peg over his initialled heavy overcoat and his lost property office secondhand waterproof. I rose from the ranks. old Tweedy. Hard as nails at a bargain. Must get those settled really. Still he had brains enough to make that corner in stamps. Course they do. On the doorstep he felt in his hip pocket for the latchkey. sir. softer. No.Ulysses —You don’t want anything for breakfast? A sleepy soft grunt answered: —Mn. Creaky wardrobe. Must get it. She turned over sleepily that time. Forgotten any little Spanish she knew. The sweated legend in the crown of his hat told him mutely: Plasto’s high grade ha. Wonder what her father gave for it. She didn’t want anything. Not there. Potato I have. Bought it at the governor’s auction. as she turned over and the loose brass quoits of the bedstead jingled. In the trousers I left off. Pity. He heard then a warm heavy sigh. White slip of paper. Stamps: stickyback pictures. Yes. He peeped quickly inside the leather headband. Quite safe. Got a short knock. Ah yes! of course.

Cries of sellers in the streets. smoking a coiled pipe. He crossed to the bright side. leaning on a long kind of a spear. Be a warm day I fancy. The shadows of the 96 of 1305 . Specially in these black clothes feel it more. the heat. steal a day’s march on him. His eyelids sank quietly often as he walked in happy warmth. a limp lid. old ranker too. Well. reflects. strange land. All right till I come back anyhow. Might meet a robber or two. But I couldn’t go in that light suit. more. avoiding the loose cellarflap of number seventyfive. Make a picnic of it. big man. old Tweedy’s big moustaches. Dark caves of carpet shops. (refracts is it?). till the footleaf dropped gently over the threshold. Wander through awned streets.Ulysses to after him very quietly. Dander along all day. Boland’s breadvan delivering with trays our daily but she prefers yesterday’s loaves turnovers crisp crowns hot. Makes you feel young. seated crosslegged. meet him. Drink water scented with fennel. Looked shut. Travel round in front of the sun. The sun was nearing the steeple of George’s church. Getting on to sundown. Keep it up for ever never grow a day older technically. Walk along a strand. sentry there. Turbaned faces going by. come to a city gate. Black conducts. sherbet. Turko the terrible. Somewhere in the east: early morning: set off at dawn.

teadust. He prolonged his pleased smile. Listen. Good house. 97 of 1305 . He approached Larry O’Rourke’s.Ulysses mosques among the pillars: priest with a scroll rolled up. g. moon. Ikey touch that: homerule sun rising up in the north-west. colour of Molly’s new garters. Strings. as position. Night sky. violet. He smiled. Sunburst on the titlepage. I pass on. Fading gold sky. Probably not a bit like it really. biscuitmush. I pass. A girl playing one of those instruments what do you call them: dulcimers. She calls her children home in their dark language. however: just the end of the city traffic. Kind of stuff you read: in the track of the sun. Of course if they ran a tramline along the North Circular from the cattlemarket to the quays value would go up like a shot. Through the open doorway the bar squirted out whiffs of ginger. the evening wind. 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. High wall: beyond strings twanged. For instance M’Auley’s down there: n. From the cellar grating floated up the flabby gush of porter. signal. A shiver of the trees. A mother watches me from her doorway. pleasing himself.

sure enough. Save it they can’t. —Lovely weather. Still he knows his own business best. they’d only be an eight o’clock breakfast for the Japanese. No use canvassing him for an ad. sir. —’Tis all that. Mr O’Rourke? Do you know what? The Russians. Where do they get the money? Coming up redheaded curates from the county Leitrim. There he is.Ulysses Baldhead over the blind. leaning against the sugarbin in his shirtsleeves watching the aproned curate swab up with mop and bucket. Mr O’Rourke. Cute old codger. Simon Dedalus takes him off to a tee with his eyes screwed up. Stop and say a word: about the funeral perhaps. Mr O’Rourke. What is 98 of 1305 . lo and behold. —Good day to you. Put down three and carry five. Good puzzle would be cross Dublin without passing a pub. Off the drunks perhaps. my bold Larry. Sad thing about poor Dignam. rinsing empties and old man in the cellar. they blossom out as Adam Findlaters or Dan Tallons. Do you know what I’m going to tell you? What’s that. Then thin of the competition. General thirst. Then. Turning into Dorset street he said freshly in greeting through the doorway: —Good day.

fed his gaze and he breathed in tranquilly the lukewarm breath of cooked spicy pigs’ blood. He halted before Dlugacz’s window. Inishturk. see? How much would that tot to off the porter in the month? Say ten barrels of stuff. Mine. The figures whitened in his mind. Inishboffin. Ahbeesee defeegee kelomen opeecue rustyouvee doubleyou. Say he got ten per cent off. Fresh air helps memory. packed with forcemeat. Doing a double shuffle with the town travellers. Fifteen. O more. Boys are they? Yes. Would she buy it too. And a pound and a half of Denny’s sausages. dribs and drabs. black and white. He passed Saint Joseph’s National school. a bob here and there. He stood by the nextdoor girl at the counter. On the wholesale orders perhaps. Brats’ clamour. unsolved: displeased. Fifteen multiplied by. he let them fade. staring at the hanks of sausages. At their joggerfry. 99 of 1305 . Slieve Bloom.Ulysses that. calling the items from a slip in her hand? Chapped: washingsoda. Or a lilt. Windows open. A kidney oozed bloodgouts on the willowpatterned dish: the last. Inishark. Square it you with the boss and we’ll split the job. polonies. His eyes rested on her vigorous hips. The shiny links.

the blurred cropping cattle. No followers allowed. New blood. wall round it. Moses Montefiore. A young white heifer. the breeders in hobnailed boots trudging through the litter. The way her crooked skirt swings at each whack. sausagepink. the title. bending his senses and his will. He held the page aslant patiently. unpeeled switches in their hands. Wife is oldish. I thought he was. The crooked skirt swinging. Strong pair of arms. by George. branded sheep. Wonder what he does. She does whack it. flop and fall of dung. the beasts lowing in their pens. Sound meat there: like a stallfed heifer. his soft subject gaze at rest. 100 of 1305 . Those mornings in the cattlemarket. The porkbutcher snapped two sheets from the pile. Farmhouse. Can become ideal winter sanatorium. wrapped up her prime sausages and made a red grimace.Ulysses Woods his name is. slapping a palm on a ripemeated hindquarter. there’s a prime one. He held the page from him: interesting: read it nearer. blurred cattle cropping. the page rustling. The ferreteyed porkbutcher folded the sausages he had snipped off with blotchy fingers. He took a page up from the pile of cut sheets: the model farm at Kinnereth on the lakeshore of Tiberias. whack by whack by whack. Whacking a carpet on the clothesline.

Prime sausage. Brown scapulars in tatters. please? Mr Bloom pointed quickly. For another: a constable off duty cuddling her in Eccles lane. Another time. —Thank you. damn it.Ulysses —Now. The sting of disregard glowed to weak pleasure within his breast. Make hay while the sun shines. Crusted toenails too. To catch up and walk behind her if she went slowly. His hand accepted the moist tender gland and slid it into a sidepocket. I’m lost in the wood. —Threepence. She stood outside the shop in sunlight and sauntered lazily to the right. disc by disc. She tendered a coin. Sodachapped hands. smiling boldly. 101 of 1305 . my miss. Pleasant to see first thing in the morning. He sighed down his nose: they never understand. he said. my miss. And one shilling threepence change. behind her moving hams. Hurry up. sir. They lay. please. holding her thick wrist out. Then it fetched up three coins from his trousers’ pocket and laid them on the rubber prickles. —Thank you. For you. defending her both ways. Mr Policeman. into the till. O please. were read quickly and quickly slid. They like them sizeable.

What matter? He walked back along Dorset street. Can pay ten down and the balance in yearly instalments. Nothing doing. almonds or citrons. 102 of 1305 . You pay eighty marks and they plant a dunam of land for you with olives. fuel and construction. eh? I have a few left from Andrews. Silverpowdered olivetrees. oranges. No sign. Still an idea behind it. he said. Agendath Netaim: planters’ company. blurred in silver heat. To purchase waste sandy tracts from Turkish government and plant with eucalyptus trees. —Good morning. Orangegroves and immense melonfields north of Jaffa. Gone. Every year you get a sending of the crop. Bleibtreustrasse 34. Oranges in tissue paper packed in crates. moving away. No: better not: another time. He withdrew his gaze after an instant. ripening. Molly spitting them out. Berlin. Your name entered for life as owner in the book of the union. W. Olives are packed in jars. —Good morning. sir. Knows the taste of them now. He looked at the cattle. 15. reading gravely.Ulysses A speck of eager fire from foxeyes thanked him. Quiet long days: pruning. Olives cheaper: oranges need artificial irrigation. Excellent for shade.

Grey. the dead sea: no fish. Watering cart. he said. the Levant. They fetched high prices too. Wonder if I’ll meet him today. Must be without a flaw. Vulcanic lake. Always the same. sunk deep in the earth. Nice to hold. wholly. Chap you know just to salute bit of a bore. 103 of 1305 . To provoke the rain. chap ticking them off in a book. Gomorrah. Crates lined up on the quayside at Jaffa. Far. His back is like that Norwegian captain’s. lift it to the nostrils and smell the perfume. There’s whatdoyoucallhim out of. not like that. Brimstone they called it raining down: the cities of the plain: Sodom. Gibraltar. heavy. navvies handling them barefoot in soiled dungarees. Moisel told me. How do you? Doesn’t see. weedless. Molly in Citron’s basketchair. bare waste. poisonous foggy waters. Wonder is poor Citron still in Saint Kevin’s parade. year after year. grey metal. Pleasant evenings we had then. Like that. No. Arbutus place: Pleasants street: pleasant old times. sweet. Mediterranean. cool waxen fruit. No wind could lift those waves. Coming all that way: Spain. A barren land. A cloud began to cover the sun slowly. On earth as it is in heaven. hold in the hand.Ulysses Citrons too. Edom. And Mastiansky with the old cither. wild perfume.

Blotchy brown brick houses. Folding the page into his pocket he turned into Eccles street. A dead sea in a dead land. in slim sandals. being born everywhere. captivity to captivity. Old now. Cold oils slid along his veins. Why is that? Valuation is only twenty-eight. A bent hag crossed from Cassidy’s. Got up wrong side of the bed. along the brightening 104 of 1305 . sizzling butter. Yes. Number eighty still unlet. It bore the oldest.Ulysses All dead names. North. grey and old. swiftly. hurrying homeward. I am here now. dying. Must begin again those Sandow’s exercises. Now it could bear no more. yes. The oldest people. Battersby. Be near her ample bedwarmed flesh. Well. Towers. Morning mouth bad images. To smell the gentle smoke of tea. On the hands down. It lay there now. Wandered far away over all the earth. multiplying. Plasters on a sore eye. MacArthur: parlour windows plastered with bills. fume of the pan. Yes. clutching a naggin bottle by the neck. chilling his blood: age crusting him with a salt cloak. Quick warm sunlight came running from Berkeley road. Desolation. I am here now. Dead: an old woman’s: the grey sunken cunt of the world. Grey horror seared his flesh. the first race.

Bold hand. He laid her card and letter on the twill bedspread near the curve of her knees. he said carefully. she said. —Who are the letters for? He looked at them. And a letter for you. His quickened heart slowed at once. she runs to meet me. Mrs Marion Bloom. He stooped and gathered them. He waited till she had laid the card aside and curled herself back slowly with a snug sigh. —That do? he asked. Milly. She was reading the card. —She got the things.Ulysses footpath. Two letters and a card lay on the hallfloor. —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. Mullingar. and a card to you. propped on her elbow. turning. Mrs Marion. a girl with gold hair on the wind. —Poldy! Entering the bedroom he halfclosed his eyes and walked through warm yellow twilight towards her tousled head. Runs. 105 of 1305 . —A letter for me from Milly.

Ulysses —Hurry up with that tea. Pepper. she said. But he delayed to clear the chair: her striped petticoat. 106 of 1305 . He scalded and rinsed out the teapot and put in four full spoons of tea. As he went down the kitchen stairs she called: —Poldy! —What? —Scald the teapot. While he unwrapped the kidney the cat mewed hungrily against him. tossed soiled linen: and lifted all in an armful on to the foot of the bed. —The kettle is boiling. tilting the kettle then to let the water flow in. he said. Give her too much meat she won’t mouse. He let the bloodsmeared paper fall to her and dropped the kidney amid the sizzling butter sauce. Then he slit open his letter. On the boil sure enough: a plume of steam from the spout. Having set it to draw he took off the kettle. Thanks: new tam: Mr Coghlan: lough Owel picnic: young student: Blazes Boylan’s seaside girls. Here. glancing down the page and over. Say they won’t eat pork. crushed the pan flat on the live coals and watched the lump of butter slide and melt. Kosher. I’m parched. He sprinkled it through his fingers ringwise from the chipped eggcup.

his thumb hooked in the teapot handle. Oldfashioned way he used to bow Molly off the platform. Putting pieces of folded brown paper in the letterbox for her. No. you are my darling. The night Milly brought it into the parlour. O. Pert little piece she was. spoon. Silly Milly’s birthday gift. look what I found in professor Goodwin’s hat! All we laughed. Dreadful old case. Poor old professor Goodwin. He filled his own moustachecup. sugar. He smiled. her cream. Everything on it? Bread and butter. Sex breaking out even then. He carried it upstairs. wait: four. Yes. I’d rather have you without a farthing Than Katey Keogh with her ass and garden. He prodded a fork into the kidney and slapped it over: then fitted the teapot on the tray. Only five she was then. You are my lookingglass from night to morning. smiling. I gave her the amberoid necklace she broke. four. Milly Bloom. sham crown Derby. O. pouring. 107 of 1305 . Still he was a courteous old chap. And the little mirror in his silk hat. Its hump bumped as he took it up.Ulysses The tea was drawn.

Marion. He’s bringing the programme. sloping within her nightdress like a shegoat’s udder. smiled. —What a time you were! she said. she said. mingling with the fragrance of the tea she poured. an elbow on the pillow. —Who was the letter from? he asked. He looked calmly down on her bulk and between her large soft bubs. I think. she said. drinking. asking: —What time is the funeral? —Eleven. In the act of going he stayed to straighten the bedspread. he answered. Her full lips. She set the brasses jingling as she raised herself briskly.Ulysses Nudging the door open with his knee he carried the tray in and set it on the chair by the bedhead. C. and Love’s Old Sweet Song. A strip of torn envelope peeped from under the dimpled pillow. Rather stale smell that incense leaves next day. —Would you like the window open a little? She doubled a slice of bread into her mouth. —O. Bold hand. Doyle. I didn’t see the paper. Like foul flowerwater. Boylan. The warmth of her couched body rose on the air. —What are you singing? —La ci darem with J. 108 of 1305 .

Not in the bed. —Met him what? he asked. Other stocking. She swallowed a draught of tea from her cup held by nothandle and. began to search the text with the hairpin till she reached the word. The book. a twisted grey garter looped round a stocking: rumpled. He felt here and there. He stooped and lifted the valance. —Here. shiny sole. sprawled against the bulge of the orangekeyed chamberpot. —Metempsychosis? —Yes.Ulysses Following the pointing of her finger he took up a leg of her soiled drawers from the bed. No? Then. —It must have fell down. There’s a word I wanted to ask you. Who’s he when he’s at home? 109 of 1305 . having wiped her fingertips smartly on the blanket. she said. I put a mark in it. Her petticoat. Voglio e non vorrei. —Show here. she said. fallen. Must have slid down. she said. —No: that book. What does that mean? He leaned downward and read near her polished thumbnail. Wonder if she pronounces that right: voglio.

rocks! she said. The same young eyes. Dolphin’s Barn. He smiled. Families of them. The monster Maffei desisted and flung his victim from him with an oath. Break your neck and we’ll break our sides. Fierce Italian with carriagewhip. That we live after death. Our souls. Must be Ruby pride of the on the floor naked. glancing askance at her mocking eyes.. The first night after the charades. Sheet kindly lent. Trapeze at Hengler’s. —O. Dignam’s soul . Tell us in plain words. That a man’s soul after he dies.. 110 of 1305 . she said. —Yes. watching it flow sideways. Had to look the other way. Illustration. Doped animals. It’s Greek: from the Greek. Is she in love with the first fellow all the time? —Never read it. Hello.Ulysses —Metempsychosis. Cruelty behind it all. Bone them young so they metamspychosis. He turned over the smudged pages. Get another of Paul de Kock’s. That means the transmigration of souls. frowning. Ruby: the Pride of the Ring. Nice name he has. There’s nothing smutty in it. Do you want another? —Yes. —Did you finish it? he asked. he said. She poured more tea into her cup. Mob gaping.

that we go on living in another body after death. Naked nymphs: Greece: and for instance all the people that lived then. Three and six I gave for the frame. for instance. he said. for example. Tea before you put milk in. my guarantor. They used to believe you could be changed into an animal or a tree. Given away with the Easter number of Photo Bits: Splendid masterpiece in art colours. he said. That we all lived before on the earth thousands of years ago or some other planet. Reincarnation: that’s the word. An example would be better. 111 of 1305 . Bette remind her of the word: metempsychosis. They call it reincarnation.Ulysses Must get that Capel street library book renewed or they’ll write to Kearney. The sluggish cream wound curdling spirals through her tea. She said it would look nice over the bed. —Some people believe. Not unlike her with her hair down: slimmer. Some say they remember their past lives. They say we have forgotten it. that we lived before. He turned the pages back. —Metempsychosis. is what the ancient Greeks called it. What they called nymphs. An example? The Bath of the Nymph over the bed.

Then he cut away dies of bread. inhaling through her arched nostrils. reading it slowly as he chewed. chewing with discernment the toothsome pliant meat. A mouthful of tea. sopped one in the gravy and put it in his mouth. she said. He tossed it off the pan on to a plate and let the scanty brown gravy trickle over it. —There’s a smell of burn. Done to a turn. sopping another die of bread in the gravy and raising it to his mouth. Only a little burnt. Did you leave anything on the fire? —The kidney! he cried suddenly. She gazed straight before her. Pungent smoke shot up in an angry jet from a side of the pan. 112 of 1305 . stepping hastily down the stairs with a flurried stork’s legs. stubbing his toes against the broken commode. What was that about some young student and a picnic? He creased out the letter at his side. He sat down. cut and buttered a slice of the loaf.Ulysses Her spoon ceased to stir up the sugar. Then he put a forkful into his mouth. By prodding a prong of the fork under the kidney he detached it and turned it turtle on its back. He fitted the book roughly into his inner pocket and. He shore away the burnt flesh and flung it to the cat. Cup of tea now. hurried out towards the smell.

Mr Coghlan took one of me and Mrs. 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. They are lovely. M. Fifteen yesterday. P. I hear them at the piano downstairs. S. I got mummy’s Iovely box of creams and am writing. Her first birthday away from home. MILLY. Will send when developed. Fair day and all the beef to the heels were in. fifteenth of the month too. running to 113 of 1305 . We did great biz yesterday. It suits me splendid.Ulysses Dearest Papli Thanks ever so much for the lovely birthday present. Remember the summer morning she was born. Curious. I must now close with fondest love Your fond daughter. Everyone says I am quite the belle in my new tam. Excuse bad writing am in hurry. Tell him silly Milly sends my best respects. There is to be a concert in the Greville Arms on Saturday. Separation. I am getting on swimming in the photo business now. 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. Byby.

Then he read the letter again: twice. He smiled with troubled affection at the kitchen window. He drank a draught of cooler tea to wash down his meal. Was given milk too long. He would be eleven now if he had lived. Lot of babies she must have helped into the world. Twelve and six a week. Row with her in the XL Cafe about the bracelet. Of course it might. She knew at once. Anemic a little. Jolly old woman. O. Her slim legs running up the staircase. sir. Not much. Music hall stage. Still. Ripening now. Excuse bad writing. Hurry. nothing has happened. Saucebox. well: she knows how to mind herself. Well. His vacant face stared pityingly at the postscript. On the ERIN’S KING that day round the Kish.Ulysses knock up Mrs Thornton in Denzille street. Young student. Day I caught her in the street pinching her cheeks to make them red. Wouldn’t eat her cakes or speak or look. God is good. Vain: very. Coming out of her shell. 114 of 1305 . But if not? No. Destiny. Wait in any case till it does. He sopped other dies of bread in the gravy and ate piece after piece of kidney. She knew from the first poor little Rudy wouldn’t live. Piano downstairs. A wild piece of goods. she might do worse.

yes. kissed. Useless: can’t move. Might take a trip down there. those girls. braiding. lying back now. August bank holiday. Friend of the family. All dimpled cheeks and curls.Ulysses Damned old tub pitching about. flowed down his backbone. kissing. regret. Useless to move now. summer evening. Full gluey woman’s lips. Her pale blue scarf loose in the wind with her hair. Not a bit funky. Will happen too. Six 115 of 1305 . only two and six return. Torn envelope. Milly too. band. Pier with lamps. Hands stuck in his trousers’ pockets. Those lovely seaside girls. Your head it simply swirls. Young kisses: the first. Girl’s sweet light lips. Better where she is down there: away. He felt the flowing qualm spread over him. counting the strands of her hair. Reading. Mrs Marion. Lips kissed. Will happen. Occupy her. Wanted a dog to pass the time. A soft qualm. smiling. Far away now past. Prevent. he says. increasing. singing. Those girls. jarvey off for the day. Swurls. Seaside girls.

returned to the meatstained paper. He liked to read at stool. Let her wait. Hope no ape comes knocking just as I’m. In the tabledrawer he found an old number of Titbits. having cleaned all her fur. went to the door and opened it. 116 of 1305 . pussy. Was washing at her ear with her back to the fire too. however. Wait before a door sometime it will open. full: then a gentle loosening of his bowels. A paper. The cat. He folded it under his armpit. Too much trouble to fag up the stairs to the landing. The cat went up in soft bounds. He stood up. Listening. Has the fidgets. Wait till I’m ready. come. Ah. he heard her voice: —Come. Come. He felt heavy. Electric. wanted to go upstairs. mewing. —Miaow! he said in answer. She looked back at him. Wants to go out. Might work a press pass. Thunder in the air. The cat mewed to him. curl up in a ball on the bed. He went out through the backdoor into the garden: stood to listen towards the next garden.Ulysses weeks off. undoing the waistband of his trousers. No sound. Or through M’Coy. Heaviness: hot day coming. nosed at it and stalked to the door.

Loam. Reclaim the whole place. what is this that is? The hens in the next garden: their droppings are very good top dressing. 117 of 1305 .Ulysses Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry. Four umbrellas. Want to manure the whole place over. Tara street. Brown brillantined hair over his collar. Household slops. Picking up the letters. O’Brien. That bee or bluebottle here Whitmonday. Queer I was just thinking that moment. Best thing to clean ladies’ kid gloves. Chap in the paybox there got away James Stephens. Funny I don’t remember that. they say. Or hanging up on the floor. scabby soil. her raincloak. Still gardens have their drawbacks. Mulch of dung. Virginia creepers. Hallstand too full. Wonder have I time for a bath this morning. Grow peas in that corner there. All soil like that without dung. Ashes too. Drago’s shopbell ringing. He walked on. Just had a wash and brushup. He bent down to regard a lean file of spearmint growing by the wall. Fine morning. Scarlet runners. Always have fresh greens then. Make a summerhouse here. Dirty cleans. by the way? Must have put it back on the peg. A coat of liver of sulphur. Best of all though are the cattle. Where is my hat. especially when they are fed on those oilcakes. Lettuce. The maid was in the garden.

So. Our prize titbit: Matcham’s Masterstroke. Three pounds three. Enthusiast. the first column and. restraining himself. Better be careful not to get these trousers dirty for the funeral. Ah! Costive. turning its pages over on his bared knees. Nobody. Leaving the door ajar. Life might be so. He went in. Midway. Payment at the rate of one guinea a column has been made to the writer. my miss. No great hurry. thirteen and six. amid the stench of mouldy limewash and stale cobwebs he undid his braces. Something new and easy. One tabloid of cascara sagrada. He kicked open the crazy door of the jakes. London. just right. No. Agendath what is it? Now. yielding but resisting. It did not move or touch him but it was something quick 118 of 1305 . Asquat on the cuckstool he folded out his paper. Quietly he read. began the second. Before sitting down he peered through a chink up at the nextdoor windows. Hope it’s not too big bring on piles again. he allowed his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he read. Playgoers’ Club. Written by Mr Philip Beaufoy. Three pounds. reading still patiently that slight constipation of yesterday quite gone. his last resistance yielding. The king was in his countinghouse. bowing his head under the low lintel.Ulysses Deep voice that fellow Dlugacz has. Keep it a bit. Three and a half.

Did Roberts pay you yet? 9. Begins and ends morally. Morning after the bazaar dance when May’s band played Ponchielli’s dance of the hours. noon. Hand in hand. Silly season. What had Gretta Conroy on? 9. M.Ulysses and neat. Might manage a sketch. Her head dancing. He read on. That was the first night. What possessed me to buy this comb? 9. hooking the placket of her skirt. Print anything now.24. 9. A speck of dust on the patent leather of her boot. Her fansticks clicking. Invent a story for some proverb. Dislike dressing together. Why? I noticed he had a good 119 of 1305 . Explain that: morning hours. Neat certainly. Bloom. while feeling his water flow quietly. Biting her nether lip. he envied kindly Mr Beaufoy who had written it and received payment of three pounds.23. seated calm above his own rising smell. thirteen and six. Washing her teeth. He glanced back through what he had read and. Rubbing smartly in turn each welt against her stockinged calf. Matcham often thinks of the masterstroke by which he won the laughing witch who now.l5. Timing her.20. Smart. Which? Time I used to try jotting down on my cuff what she said dressing. Nicked myself shaving. then night hours. Is that Boylan well off? He has money. then evening coming on. By Mr and Mrs L. I’m swelled after that cabbage.

braced and buttoned himself. true to life also. then grey. Lines in her eyes.Ulysses rich smell off his breath dancing. he eyed carefully his black trousers: the ends. What time is the funeral? Better find out in the paper. Poetical idea: pink. The bells of George’s church. Still. the houghs of the knees. Night hours then: black with daggers and eyemasks. Peering into it. A creak and a dark whirr in the air high up. They tolled the hour: loud dark iron. He pulled back the jerky shaky door of the jakes and came forth from the gloom into the air. It wouldn’t pan out somehow. Allude to it. then black. Then he girded up his trousers. Day: then the night. the knees. Strange kind of music that last night. then golden. Evening hours. girls in grey gauze. No use humming then. He tore away half the prize story sharply and wiped himself with it. Heigho! Heigho! Heigho! Heigho! Heigho! Heigho! 120 of 1305 . In the bright light. The mirror was in shadow. lightened and cooled in limb. She rubbed her handglass briskly on her woollen vest against her full wagging bub.

What a lark. Could have given that address too. the postal telegraph office. In the dark. past Windmill lane. El. Police tout. There again: the overtone following through the air. Met her once in the park. Beth. Waiting outside pubs to bring da home. Daresay Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O’Neill’s. his bucket of offal linked. And past the sailors’ home. O let him! His life isn’t such a bed of roses. By Brady’s cottages a boy for the skins lolled. Come home to ma. Leask’s the linseed crusher.Ulysses Quarter to. yes: house of: Aleph. smoking a chewed fagbutt. And past Nichols’ the undertaker. da. Corny. Tell him if he smokes he won’t grow. passed the frowning face of Bethel. Slack hour: won’t be many there. At eleven it is. listlessly holding her battered caskhoop. third. A smaller girl with scars of eczema on her forehead eyed him. Singing with his eyes shut. Time enough. Poor Dignam! ***** By lorries along sir John Rogerson’s quay Mr Bloom walked soberly. Her name and address she 121 of 1305 . He turned from the morning noises of the quayside and walked through Lime street. He crossed Townsend street.

tooraloom. O. Wonder is it like that. Lovely spot it must be: the garden of the world. family tea. 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. His right hand came down into the bowl of his hat. Rather warm. though. made of the finest Ceylon brands. Tea. In Westland row he halted before the window of the Belfast and Oriental Tea Company and read the legends of leadpapered packets: choice blend. finest quality. snaky lianas they call them. Couldn’t ask him at a funeral. Just there. Very warm morning. His right hand once more more slowly went over his brow and hair. Under their dropped lids his eyes found the tiny bow of the leather headband inside his high grade ha. relieved: and read again: choice blend. Must get some from Tom Kernan. surely he bagged it. big lazy leaves to float about on. tooraloom. tooraloom.Ulysses then told with my tooraloom tooraloom tay. Then he put on his hat again. The far east. 122 of 1305 . Those Cinghalese lobbing about in the sun in dolce far niente. Bury him cheap in a whatyoumaycall. cactuses. So warm. not doing a hand’s turn all day. With my tooraloom. His fingers found quickly a card behind the headband and transferred it to his waistcoat pocket. flowery meads.

Where was the chap I saw in that picture somewhere? Ah yes. The earth. Flowers of idleness. Sensitive plants. unfolded it. in the dead sea floating on his back. As he walked he took the folded Freeman from his sidepocket. What is weight really when you say the weight? Thirtytwo feet per second per second. no. Vance in High school cracking his fingerjoints. reading a book with a parasol open. Law of falling bodies: per second per second. Per second per second. Cracking curriculum. Azotes.Ulysses Sleep six months out of twelve. Petals too tired to. Sleeping sickness in the air. It’s the force of gravity of the earth is the weight. Lethargy. teaching. Because the weight of the water. Influence of the climate. He turned away and sauntered across the road. Too hot to quarrel. The college curriculum. rolled it lengthwise in a baton and tapped it at each sauntering step against his trouserleg. Waterlilies. Walk on roseleaves. They all fall to the ground. Per second for 123 of 1305 . Hothouse in Botanic gardens. Couldn’t sink if you tried: so thick with salt. Imagine trying to eat tripe and cowheel. How did she walk with her sausages? Like that something. The air feeds most. the 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. Careless air: just drop in to see.

In. There: bearskin cap and hackle plume. he’s a grenadier. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the typed envelope. Went too far last time. The postmistress handed him back through the grill his card with a letter. Redcoats. No-one. Pointed cuffs.Ulysses every second it means. Westland Row. Uniform. Too late box. c/o P. He slipped card and letter into his sidepocket. There he is: royal Dublin fusiliers. He handed the card through the brass grill. No answer probably. Too showy. That must be why the women go after them. City. 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 nostrils. reviewing again the soldiers on parade. Answered anyhow. —Are there any letters for me? he asked. Easier to enlist and drill. Maud 124 of 1305 . From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the door of the postoffice. O. smelling freshprinted rag paper. No. Post here. Where’s old Tweedy’s regiment? Castoff soldier. Henry Flower Esq.

ripping it open in jerks. Hate company when you. Never see him dressed up as a fireman or a bobby. Bed: ed. yes. M’Coy said. M’Coy. Get rid of him quickly. Women will pay a lot of heed. His fingers drew forth the letter the letter and crumpled the envelope in his pocket. How are you? —Just keeping alive. He strolled out of the postoffice and turned to the right. Griffith’s paper is on the same tack now: an army rotten with venereal disease: overseas or halfseasover empire. The King’s own. Where are you off to? —Hello.. A mason. Mark time. M’Coy. —How’s the body? —Fine. Take me out of my way. Eyes front. I don’t think... Nowhere in particular. His eyes on the black tie and clothes he asked with low respect: —Is there any . His hand went into his pocket and a forefinger felt its way under the flap of the envelope. no trouble I hope? I see you’re .Ulysses Gonne’s letter about taking them off O’Connell street at night: disgrace to our Irish capital. Table: able. Talk: as if that would mend matters.. Bloom. —Hello. 125 of 1305 . Hair? No. Something pinned on: photo perhaps. Half baked they look: hypnotised like.

Just down there in Conway’s we were. and what do you call him Bantam Lyons. Mr Bloom gazed across the road at the outsider drawn up before the door of the Grosvenor. What time? A photo it isn’t. The porter hoisted the valise up on the well. looks like blanketcloth. The honourable Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man. Stylish kind of coat with that roll collar. husband. Possess her once take the starch out of her. Handsome is and handsome does. waiting. A badge maybe. Eleven. no. Who was telling me? Holohan. You know Hoppy? —I know. poor fellow. Mr Bloom said.. eleven. is it? I only heard it last night. Reserved about to yield. he’s on one of his periodical bends. So it is. brother. Careless stand of her with her hands in those patch pockets. Women all for caste till you touch the spot. you know. warm for a day like this. 126 of 1305 . —To be sure. like her. while the man. Like that haughty creature at the polo match. The funeral is today. —I must try to get out there. She stood still. Mr Bloom answered.Ulysses —O. —E .. M’Coy said. Poor Dignam. —I was with Bob Doran. searched his pockets for change.

faith. Two strings to her bow. Clearly I can see today. Poor little Paddy Dignam. I was with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it in the Arch. Good fallback. She raised a gloved hand to her hair. Lady’s hand. he said. And. He moved a little to the side of M’Coy’s talking head. —Yes. Eye out for other fellow always. Proud: rich: silk stockings. —Why? I said. What’s wrong with him? I said. 127 of 1305 . What is he foostering over that change for? Sees me looking. he filled up. —What’s wrong with him? He said. the braided drums. Talking of one thing or another. High brown boots with laces dangling. he said. He’s dead. In came Hoppy. Wellturned foot.Ulysses Doran Lyons in Conway’s. Yes. Off to the country: Broadstone probably. Mr Bloom said. I couldn’t believe it when I heard it. Is it Paddy Dignam? I said. Getting up in a minute. Which side will she get up? —And he said: Sad thing about our poor friend Paddy! What Paddy? I said. Drawing back his head and gazing far from beneath his vailed eyelids he saw the bright fawn skin shine in the glare. Moisture about gives long sight perhaps. Having a wet.

—One of the best. The tram passed. her rich gloved hand on the steel grip. —My missus has just got an engagement. —O. esprit de corps. what are you gaping at? —Yes. —Wife well. Watch! Watch! Silk flash rich stockings white. Tiptop. Always happening like that. M’Coy said. The very moment. Another gone. He unrolled the newspaper baton idly and read idly: What is home without Plumtree’s Potted Meat? Incomplete With it an abode of bliss. At least it’s not settled yet. Her friend covering the display of. Paradise and the peri. Flicker. yes. yes. I suppose? M’Coy’s changed voice said.Ulysses he said. poor fellow. Feels locked out of it. He’s gone. They drove off towards the Loop Line bridge. Mr Bloom said. thanks. He died on Monday. flicker: the laceflare of her hat in the sun: flicker. Well. Girl in Eustace street hallway Monday was it settling her garter. Lost it. Mr Bloom said after a dull sigh. Curse your noisy pugnose. flick. 128 of 1305 . Watch! A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between.

well. No book. Mr Bloom turned his largelidded eyes with unhasty friendliness. She’s going to sing at a swagger affair in the Ulster Hall. don’t you see. picking at his moustache stubble. —That so? M’Coy said. M’Coy nodded. Part shares and part profits. Torn strip of envelope. That’s good news. Who’s getting it up? Mrs Marion Bloom. —O. —It’s a kind of a tour. There’s a committee formed. Queen was in her bedroom eating bread and. He moved to go.. on the twentyfifth. Love’s Old Sweet Song Comes lo-ove’s old . Letter.. Cat furry black ball. he said. Dark lady and fair man. old man. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens. he said. Glad to hear that. Not up yet. Mr Bloom said thoughtfully. 129 of 1305 . By the way no harm. I’m off that. thanks. Sweeeet song. Belfast.Ulysses Valise tack again. —My wife too.

M’Coy said. Valise I have a particular fancy for. old man. Nice enough in its way: for a little ballad. strolling towards Brunswick street. Thanks. he said. Mr Bloom said. Leather. don’t you know: in the 130 of 1305 . you see. Soft mark. —That will be done. You and me. Meet you knocking around.Ulysses —Well. Didn’t catch me napping that wheeze. Mr Bloom. I’d like my job. will you? —I’ll do that. glad to see you looking fit. Mr Bloom said. Mr Bloom answered firmly. That’ll be all right. M’Coy said brightly. —Right. Cheeseparing nose. I’d go if I possibly could. The quick touch. P. —Tell you what. Bob Cowley lent him his for the Wicklow regatta concert last year and never heard tidings of it from that good day to this. double action lever lock. You might put down my name at the funeral. Capped corners. moving to get off. My missus has just got an. No guts in it. smiled. rivetted edges. Reedy freckled soprano. 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. —Yes. M’Coy will do. tolloll. Just C. will you? I’d like to go but I mightn’t be able. You just shove in my name if I’m not there. Well.

his eyes wandering over the multicoloured hoardings. Year before I was born that was: sixtyfive.Ulysses same boat. Suppose she wouldn’t let herself be vaccinated again. Hello. Your wife and my wife. What is this the right name is? By Mosenthal it is. Against my grain somehow. I hope that smallpox up there doesn’t get worse. Clery’s Summer Sale. Like to see her again in that. Perhaps he was a woman. 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 131 of 1305 . Poor papa! How he used to talk of Kate Bateman in that. Give you the needle that would. Softsoaping. And Ristori in Vienna. Can’t he hear the difference? Think he’s that way inclined a bit. Thought that Belfast would fetch him. is it? No. Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the afternoon to get in. Why Ophelia committed suicide. Wonder is he pimping after me? Mr Bloom stood at the corner. No. Cantrell and Cochrane’s Ginger Ale (Aromatic). Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Male impersonator. Leah tonight. Rachel. he’s going on straight. Hamlet she played last night.

132 of 1305 . who left the house of his father and left the God of his father. Might just walk into her here. Their full buck eyes regarded him as he went by. Leopold. Still they get their feed all right and their doss. Good poor brutes they look. amid the sweet oaten reek of horsepiss. perhaps it was best for him. The lane is safer. Poor jugginses! Damn all they know or care about anything with their long noses stuck in nosebags. Nosebag time. Their Eldorado. Poor papa! Poor man! I’m glad I didn’t go into the room to look at his face.Ulysses arms. Still their neigh can be very irritating. Too full for words. Every word is so deep. the gently champing teeth. dear! Ffoo! Well. Might be happy all the same that way. Mr Bloom went round the corner and passed the drooping nags of the hazard. That day! O. No use thinking of it any more. dear! O. He drew the letter from his pocket and folded it into the newspaper he carried. He came nearer and heard a crunching of gilded oats. Wish I hadn’t met that M’Coy fellow. Gelded too: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their haunches.

Not a sinner. A wise tabby. Meade’s timberyard. And once I played marbles when I went to that old dame’s school. halted in the lee of the station wall. I think it’s a. no will of their own. He hummed: La ci darem la mano La la lala la la. watched from her warm sill. Mrs Ellis’s. She liked mignonette. Sociable. Open it. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone. shooting the taw with a cunnythumb. Near the timberyard a squatted child at marbles. Shout a few flying syllables as they pass. A flower. A yellow flower with flattened petals. Like to give them an odd cigarette. All weathers. a blinking sphinx. all places. And Mr? He opened the letter within the newspaper. Curious the life of drifting cabbies. Voglio e non. time or setdown. Pity to disturb them. Not annoyed then? What does she say? Dear Henry 133 of 1305 . He turned into Cumberland street and. Mohammed cut a piece out of his mantle not to wake her.Ulysses He passed the cabman’s shelter. going on some paces. Piled balks. Ruins and tenements. alone. No-one.

S. you naughty boy. 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. O how I long to meet you. today. I have never felt myself so much drawn to a man as you. do not deny my request before my patience are exhausted. I do wish I could punish you for that. Remember if you do not I will punish you. Goodbye now. I have such a bad headache. Henry dear. and write by return to your longing Martha P.Ulysses I got your last letter to me and thank you very much for it. Then I will tell you all. if you do not wrote. I called you naughty boy because I do not like that other world. 134 of 1305 . Please write me a long letter and tell me more. I often think of the beautiful name you have. Do tell me what kind of perfume does your wife use. naughty darling. I am sorry you did not like my last letter. So now you know what I will do to you. I want to know. when will we meet? I think of you so often you have no idea. I feel so bad about. Please tell me what you think of poor me. Why did you enclose the stamps? I am awfully angry with you. Dear Henry.

Having read it all he took it from the newspaper and put it back in his sidepocket. of course. Changed since the first letter. Bad as a row with Molly. 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. Fingering still the letter in his pocket he drew the pin out of it. Thank you: not having any. Doing the indignant: a girl of good family like me. Then running round corners. why not? Try it anyhow. Or a poison bouquet to strike him down. Wonder did she wrote it herself. Common pin. Usual love scrimmage. Narcotic. A bit at a time.Ulysses He tore the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell and placed it in his heart pocket. Then walking slowly forward he read the letter again. Weak joy opened his lips. Go further next time. Out of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. They like it because no-one can hear. murmuring here and there a word. Naughty boy: punish: afraid of words. eh? He threw it on the road. Could meet one Sunday after the rosary. Language of flowers. Queer the 135 of 1305 . Cigar has a cooling effect. respectable character. Brutal.

Such a bad headache. Flat Dublin voices bawled in his head. I saw that picture somewhere I forget now old master or faked for money. The other one. Just loll there: quiet dusk: let everything rip. lovely cool water out of a well. Mary. No roses without thorns. It? Them. was getting the supper: fruit. Now could you make out a thing like that? To keep it up. Mysterious. Those two sluts that night in the Coombe. O. jar on her head. linked together in the rain. talking. To keep it up. Has her roses probably. Forget. Nice kind of evening feeling. Must carry a paper goblet 136 of 1305 . Tell about places you have been. stonecold like the hole in the wall at Ashtown. Martha. Eyefocus bad for stomach nerves. What perfume does your wife use. No more wandering about. Or sitting all day typing. olives. Mary lost the pin of her drawers. He is sitting in their house. Also the two sluts in the Coombe would listen. She didn’t know what to do To keep it up To keep it up. strange customs.Ulysses number of pins they always have.

Yes. then all sank. eightpence a gallon of porter. A million pounds. Tell her: more and more: all. You could tear up a cheque for a hundred pounds in the same way. Long long long rest. One and four into twenty: fifteen about. tore it swiftly in shreds and scattered them towards the road. Twopence a pint. Then a sigh: silence. flowing together. What am I saying barrels? Gallons. She listens with big dark soft eyes. they say. exactly. Fifteen millions of barrels of porter. The bungholes sprang open and a huge dull flood leaked out. Skin breeds lice or vermin. fourpence a quart.Ulysses next time I go to the trottingmatches. sank in the dank air: a white flutter. Henry Flower. Lord Iveagh once cashed a sevenfigure cheque for a million in the bank of Ireland. Barrels bumped in his head: dull porter slopped and churned inside. no. The shreds fluttered away. Simple bit of paper. 137 of 1305 . coach after coach. Still the other brother lord Ardilaun has to change his shirt four times a day. Shows you the money to be made out of porter. one and fourpence a gallon of porter. About a million barrels all the same. Going under the railway arch he took out the envelope. An incoming train clanked heavily above his head. wait a moment.

Wonder how they explain it to the heathen Chinee. Prefer an ounce of opium. He’s not going out in bluey specs 138 of 1305 .J. Not like Ecce Homo. Prayers for the conversion of Gladstone they had too when he was almost unconscious.J. Walsh D. took the card from his pocket and tucked it again behind the leather headband. Convert Dr William J. a lazy pooling swirl of liquor bearing along wideleaved flowers of its froth. They’re taught that. Clever idea Saint Patrick the shamrock. Rank heresy for them. Buddha their god lying on his side in the museum. Save China’s millions. He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows. Taking it easy with hand under his cheek. Crown of thorns and cross. to the true religion. Chopsticks? Conmee: Martin Cunningham knows him: distinguishedlooking. Stepping into the porch he doffed his hat. Same notice on the door. and the African Mission. The protestants are the same. I might have tried to work M’Coy for a pass to Mullingar. Damn it. on saint Peter Claver S. Sermon by the very reverend John Conmee S. Celestials. Sorry I didn’t work him about getting Molly into the choir instead of that Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn’t.D.Ulysses winding through mudflats all over the level land. Josssticks burning.

Corpse. took out a communion. Then the next one. I suppose. Still life. Something going on: some sodality. heads bowed. flashing. Who is my neighbour? Jammed by the hour to slow music. That woman at midnight mass. Like to see them sitting round in a ring with blub lips. listening. murmuring all the time. Hospice for the dying. Shut your eyes and open your mouth. The priest went along by them. pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the rere. Women knelt in the benches with crimson halters round their necks. Latin. Then the next one: a small old woman. Lap it up like milk. They don’t seem to chew it: only swallow it down. holding the thing in his hands. Seventh heaven. 139 of 1305 . murmuring. He stopped at each. Pity so empty.Ulysses with the sweat rolling off him to baptise blacks. What? Corpus: body. The priest bent down to put it into her mouth. The cold smell of sacred stone called him. is he? The glasses would take their fancy. He trod the worn steps. Her hat and head sank. entranced. A batch knelt at the altarrails. Stupefies them first. Nice discreet place to be next some girl. Her hat sank at once. The next one. Good idea the Latin. shook a drop or two (are they in water?) off it and put it neatly into her mouth.

These pots we have to wear. and seek their places. bread of angels it’s called. all in the same swim. Then feel all like one family party. It does. Yes. Safe in the arms of kingdom come. Hence those snores. Thing is if you really believe in it. waiting for it to melt in their stomachs. Let off steam.Ulysses Rum idea: eating bits of a corpse. Lollipop. statues bleeding. They were about him here and there. Blind faith. one by one. Look at them. He approached a bench and seated himself in its corner. In our confraternity. Hokypoky penny a lump. First communicants. same in the theatre. Now I bet it makes them feel happy. with heads still bowed in their crimson halters. Wake this time next year. Lourdes cure. Old fellow asleep near that confessionbox. Then come out a bit spreeish. We ought to have hats modelled on our heads. Not so lonely. He stood aside watching their blind masks pass down the aisle. I’m sure of that. kind of kingdom of God is within you feel. and the Knock apparition. waters of oblivion. Lulls all pain. Why the cannibals cotton to it. 140 of 1305 . nursing his hat and newspaper. They do. There’s a big idea behind it. Something like those mazzoth: it’s that sort of bread: unleavened shewbread.

it is.H. That fellow that turned queen’s evidence on the invincibles he used to receive the. They’re not straight men of business either. now that’s a good name for them. Those crawthumpers. O. no.N. Dusk and the light behind her. This very church. there’s always something shiftylooking about them. did I tear up that envelope? Yes: under the bridge. no. Meet one Sunday after the rosary.Ulysses He saw the priest stow the communion cup away. the communion every morning.S. she’s not here: the flower: no. And plotting that murder all the time. Bald spot behind. The priest was rinsing out the chalice: then he tossed off the dregs smartly. Suppose he lost the pin of his. well in. He wouldn’t know what to do to. showing a large grey bootsole from under the lace affair he had on. Denis Carey. Makes it more aristocratic 141 of 1305 .R. Peter Claver I am thinking of. yes. By the way. Carey was his name. Letters on his back: I.I? No: I. Turn up with a veil and black bag. I have sinned: or no: I have suffered. and kneel an instant before it. Wife and six children at home. She might be here with a ribbon round her neck and do the other thing all the same on the sly. And the other one? Iron nails ran in. Their character. Wine. And just imagine that. Do not deny my request. No. Molly told me one time I asked her. Peter Carey.

Cold comfort. Some of that old sacred music splendid. Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they’d have one old booser worse than another coming along. Perfectly right that is. Palestrina for example too. They had 142 of 1305 . Pity. the people looking up: Quis est homo. Doesn’t give them any of it: shew wine: only the other. Those old popes keen on music. Father Bernard Vaughan’s sermon first. Could hear a pin drop. Christ or Pilate? Christ. Footdrill stopped. Who has the organ here I wonder? Old Glynn he knew how to make that instrument talk. Molly was in fine voice that day. Queer the whole atmosphere of the. but don’t keep us all night over it. I could feel the thrill in the air. I told her to pitch her voice against that corner. Music they wanted. the Stabat Mater of Rossini. Not going to be any music. cadging for a drink. on art and statues and pictures of all kinds. Quite right. Mozart’s twelfth mass: Gloria in that.Ulysses 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). Mr Bloom looked back towards the choir. the vibrato: fifty pounds a year they say he had in Gardiner street. Mercadante: seven last words. the full.

. The priest came down from the altar. I remember slightly. her spouse. One way out of it.. chanting. regular hours. don’t they? Gluttons. Fall into flesh. Connoisseurs. More interesting if you understood what it was all about. Joseph. long legs. having eunuchs in their choir that was coming it a bit thick. our refuge and our strength . All crossed themselves and stood up.Ulysses a gay old time while it lasted. How long since your last mass? Glorious and immaculate virgin. No worry. Healthy too. looking over the risen hats. He saw the priest bend down and kiss the altar and then face about and bless all the people. and he and the massboy answered each other in Latin. tall. Stand up at the gospel of course. Suppose they wouldn’t feel anything after. holding the thing out from him. Throw them the bone. Mr Bloom glanced about him and then stood up. Then the priest knelt down and began to read off a card: —O God. Mr Bloom put his face forward to catch the words. Kind of a placid. Peter and Paul. Wonderful organisation 143 of 1305 . then brew liqueurs. Green Chartreuse. Who knows? Eunuch. Still. Then all settled down on their knees again and he sat back quietly in his bench. What kind of voice is it? Must be curious to hear after their own strong basses. English. Benedictine.

Penance. goes like clockwork. The priest in that Fermanagh will case in the witnessbox.Ulysses certainly. incense. How I found the Lord. Punish me. archangel. please. Everyone wants to. Squareheaded chaps those must be in Rome: they work the whole show. The priest prayed: —Blessed Michael. Then I will tell you all. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and 144 of 1305 . Great weapon in their hands. No browbeating him. Liberty and exaltation of our holy mother the church. for the time being in his absolute discretion. And did you chachachachacha? And why did you? Look down at her ring to find an excuse. God’s little joke. Masses for the repose of my soul to be said publicly with open doors. candles melting. Repentance skindeep. Reformed prostitute will address the meeting. Monasteries and convents. Pray at an altar. Then out she comes. Husband learn to his surprise. Salvation army blatant imitation. Flowers. Whispering gallery walls have ears. Lovely shame. And don’t they rake in the money too? Bequests also: to the P. And I schschschschschsch. Woman dying to. He had his answer pat for everything.P. The doctors of the church: they mapped out the whole theology of it. defend us in the hour of conflict. More than doctor or solicitor. Confession. Hide her blushes. Hail Mary and Holy Mary.

Trams: a car of Prescott’s dyeworks: a widow in her weeds. we humbly pray!): and do thou. Time enough yet. the 145 of 1305 . How goes the time? Quarter past. Why didn’t you tell me before.Ulysses snares of the devil (may God restrain him. He passed. there’s a (whh!) just a (whh!) fluff. All over. Better get that lotion made up. down the aisle and out through the main door into the light. Excuse. placket unhooked. discreetly buttoning. Where is this? Ah yes. The priest and the massboy stood up and walked off. by 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. Brother Buzz. O prince of the heavenly host. Pay your Easter duty. The women remained behind: thanksgiving. 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. Good job it wasn’t farther south. Notice because I’m in mourning myself. He covered himself. Or their skirt behind. But we. Glimpses of the moon. He stood up. Still like you better untidy. Come around with the plate perhaps. Hello. Better be shoving along. miss. Never tell you. Were those two buttons of my waistcoat open all the time? Women enjoy it. Annoyed if you don’t.

Simples. ointments. The chemist turned back page after page. A lifetime in a night. O well. But the recipe is in the other trousers. disinfectants. Huguenot churchyard near there. Why? Reaction. Aq. Shrunken skull. The alchemists. He walked southward along Westland row. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Sandy shrivelled smell he seems to have. All his alabaster lilypots. Fol. Te Virid. I changed a sovereign I remember. founded in the year of the flood. Chloroform.Ulysses last time. poor fellow. Laur. Sweny’s in Lincoln place. Doctor Whack. He ought to physic himself a bit. Living all the day among herbs. Dist. Visit some day. When was it I got it made up last? Wait. O. Hamilton Long’s. The first fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a bit of pluck. Overdose 146 of 1305 . Want to be careful. he can look it up in the prescriptions book. Smell almost cure you like the dentist’s doorbell. First of the month it must have been or the second. Bore this funeral affair. Lethargy then. Gradually changes your character. Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir. Mortar and pestle. O. it’s not his fault. Chemists rarely move. Enough stuff here to chloroform you. Test: turns blue litmus paper red. And old. Quest for the philosopher’s stone. and I forgot that latchkey too. Electuary or emulsion.

He waited by the counter. Clever of nature. —Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin. sir? —Yes. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for cough. Those homely recipes are often the best: strawberries for the teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say steeped in buttermilk. One of the old queen’s sons.. the dusty dry smell of sponges and loofahs. Mr Bloom said. duke of Albany was it? had only one skin. Spanish. It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. —About a fortnight ago. he said. Nice smell 147 of 1305 .Ulysses of laudanum. inhaling slowly the keen reek of drugs. Lot of time taken up telling your aches and pains. Three we have. Remedy where you least expect it. Mr Bloom said. Poisons the only cures. yes. Brings out the darkness of her eyes. What perfume does your? Peau d’Espagne. Sleeping draughts. the sheet up to her eyes. smelling herself.. Skinfood. bunions and pimples to make it worse. Looking at me. That orangeflower water is so fresh. when I was fixing the links in my cuffs. Lovephiltres. Clogs the pores or the phlegm. Warts. and then orangeflower water . But you want a perfume too. —And white wax also. Leopold.

At his armpit Bantam Lyons’ voice and hand said: 148 of 1305 . Mr Bloom said. Do it in the bath. the newspaper baton under his armpit. the chemist said. That was two and nine. he said. sir. Yes I. Water to water. Massage. please. Funeral be rather glum. Curious longing I. Combine business with pleasure. —Yes. Hammam. sir. when you come back. Also I think I. How much are they? —Fourpence. —I’ll take this one. —Good. sir.Ulysses these soaps have. You can pay all together. Dirt gets rolled up in your navel. Mr Bloom raised a cake to his nostrils. Pure curd soap. the chemist said. Make it up. That makes three and a penny. Time to get a bath round the corner. Feel fresh then all the day. sir. the coolwrappered soap in his left hand. Turkish. He strolled out of the shop. Sweet lemony wax. Mr Bloom said. I’ll call later in the day and I’ll take one of these soaps. —Yes. Nicer if a nice girl did it. Pity no time for massage. Have you brought a bottle? —No.

Take off the rough dirt. —I was just going to throw it away. Wait. Wants a wash too. Where the bugger is it? He rustled the pleated pages. Mr Bloom answered. Barber’s itch.Ulysses —Hello. jerking his chin on his high collar. —What’s that? his sharp voice said. —I say you can keep it. Bloom. —You can keep it. —I want to see about that French horse that’s running today. Gold cup. Bantam Lyons muttered. Bantam Lyons said. 149 of 1305 . by Jove! Long cold upper lip. have you used Pears’ soap? Dandruff on his shoulders. Maximum the second. Bantam Lyons’s yellow blacknailed fingers unrolled the baton. —Ascot. Shaved off his moustache again. Good morning. I was going to throw it away that moment. Scalp wants oiling. Tight collar he’ll lose his hair. Younger than I am. Bantam Lyons raised his eyes suddenly and leered weakly. Mr Bloom said. Better leave him the paper and get shut of him. What’s the best news? Is that today’s? Show us a minute. Half a mo. He does look balmy. Mr Bloom said. To look younger.

Fleshpots of Egypt. They never come back. Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a neat square and lodged the soap in it. Mr Hornblower? How do you do. Keeps a hotel now. Raffle for large tender turkey. Betting. He sped off towards Conway’s corner. redbaked bricks. smiling. Then the spokes: sports. leering: then thrust the outspread sheets back on Mr Bloom’s arms. the minarets.Ulysses Bantam Lyons doubted an instant. Messenger boys stealing to put on sixpence. He eyed the horseshoe poster over the gate of college park: cyclist doubled up like a cod in a pot. God speed scut. Silly lips of that chap. How do you do. Your Christmas dinner for threepence. There’s Hornblower standing at the porter’s lodge. Here. Jack Fleming embezzling to gamble then smuggled off to America. he said. Keep him on hands: might take a turn in there on the nod. Remind you of a mosque. sports. Now if they had made it round like a wheel. Damn bad ad. sports: and the hub big: college. Regular hotbed of it lately. College sports today I see. sir? 150 of 1305 . He walked cheerfully towards the mosque of the baths. —I’ll risk it. Something to catch the eye. thanks.

Over after over. first. the stream of life. Won’t last. And the skulls we were acracking when M’Carthy took the floor. buoyed lightly upward. Heatwave. Donnybrook fair more in their line. entering deftly. He foresaw his pale body reclined in it at full. softly laved. Out. Cricket weather. If life was always like that. poked his silkhatted head into the creaking carriage and. Still Captain Culler broke a window in the Kildare street club with a slog to square leg. lemonyellow: his navel. This is my body. the gentle tepid stream.Ulysses Heavenly weather really. floating hair of the stream around the limp father of thousands. cool enamel. bud of flesh: and saw the dark tangled curls of his bush floating. Always passing. seated 151 of 1305 . Duck for six wickets. oiled by scented melting soap. in a womb of warmth. which in the stream of life we trace is dearer than them all. a languid floating flower. Sit around under sunshades. naked. They can’t play it here. He saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained. Enjoy a bath now: clean trough of water. ***** Martin Cunningham.

yes.Ulysses himself. Come along. Then getting it ready. He pulled the door to after him and slammed it twice till it shut tight. Mr Bloom said. —Come on. Unclean job. I believe they clip the nails and the hair. Wash and shampoo. Mr Power stepped in after him. Extraordinary the interest they take in a corpse. Molly and Mrs Fleming making the bed. Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in. Thanking her stars she was passed over. curving his height with care. Glad to see us go we give them such trouble coming. Mr Bloom entered and sat in the vacant place. Laying it out. Keep a bit in an envelope. One dragged aside: an old woman peeping. Simon. Job seems to suit them. Grows all the same after. Never know who will touch you dead. He passed an arm through the armstrap and looked seriously from the open carriagewindow at the lowered blinds of the avenue. —After you. —Are we all here now? Martin Cunningham asked. Huggermugger in corners. Slop about in slipperslappers for fear he’d wake. saying: Yes. Our windingsheet. 152 of 1305 . Pull it more to your side. Bloom. Nose whiteflattened against the pane.

Ah. —Irishtown. Respect. The wheels rattled rolling over the cobbled causeway and the crazy glasses shook rattling in the doorframes. their knees jogging.Ulysses All waited. Brunswick street. looking out. Tritonville road. Ringsend. Better shift it out of that. —That’s a fine old custom. The blinds of the avenue passed and number nine with its craped knocker. The carriage swerved from 153 of 1305 . —What way is he taking us? Mr Power asked through both windows. At walking pace. that soap: in my hip pocket. A jolt. All watched awhile through their windows caps and hats lifted by passers. he said. They waited still. turning: then nearer: then horses’ hoofs. door ajar. till they had turned and were passing along the tramtracks. Stowing in the wreaths probably. I am glad to see it has not died out. Mr Dedalus nodded. Other hoofs and creaking wheels started behind. Quicker. Nothing was said. Their carriage began to move. Martin Cunningham said. I am sitting on something hard. Wait for an opportunity. All waited. creaking and swaying. Then wheels were heard from in front.

He was alone. Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man. Wallace Bros: the bottleworks: Dodder bridge. Dedalus. Mr Dedalus fell back.Ulysses the tramtrack to the smoother road past Watery lane. Mr Bloom smiled joylessly on Ringsend road. The carriage. —Who is that? —Your son and heir. Mr Bloom said. he said. —There’s a friend of yours gone by. Collis and Ward he calls the firm. Great card he was. the drunken little costdrawer and Crissie. I suppose. saying: —Was that Mulligan cad with him? His fidus Achates! —No. Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a Sunday morning. rolled on noisily with chattering wheels. clad in mourning. Richie Goulding and the legal bag. stretching over across. papa’s little lump of dung. His jokes are getting a bit damp. Mr Dedalus said. —Down with his aunt Sally. the Goulding faction. —Where is he? Mr Dedalus said. passing the open drains and mounds of rippedup roadway before the tenement houses. the landlady’s two 154 of 1305 . lurched round the corner and. Goulding. a wide hat. the wise child that knows her own father. swerving back to the tramtrack.

Strange feeling it would be. Just a chance. All breadcrumbs they are. If little Rudy had lived. 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. Me in his eyes. Out on the rampage all night. Hear his voice in the house. His name stinks all over Dublin. Thinks he’ll cure it with pills. Selling tapes in my cousin. About six hundred per cent profit.Ulysses hats pinned on his head. From me. I fear. I’ll tickle his catastrophe. He cried above the clatter of the wheels: —I won’t have her bastard of a nephew ruin my son. —He’s in with a lowdown crowd. Not likely. gravely shaking. See him grow up. Noisy selfwilled man. My son. Must have been that morning in 155 of 1305 . Beginning to tell on him now: that backache of his. Something to hand on. Wife ironing his back. Full of his son. Peter Paul M’Swiney’s. Mr Dedalus snarled. A counterjumper’s son. Mr Bloom glanced from his angry moustache to Mr Power’s mild face and Martin Cunningham’s eyes and beard. believe you me. He is right. He ceased. That Mulligan is a contaminated bloody doubledyed ruffian by all accounts. Walking beside Molly in an Eton suit.

—What is this. I could have helped him on in life. Life. Her tomboy oaths.Ulysses Raymond terrace she was at the window watching the two dogs at it by the wall of the cease to do evil. —Corny might have given us a more commodious yoke. Milly. —He might. Make him independent. Molly. he said. Soon be a woman. yes: a woman too. How life begins. Martin Cunningham began to brush away crustcrumbs from under his thighs. Do you follow me? He closed his left eye. looking at his watch. I’m dying for it. Young student. —Ten minutes. in the name of God? Crumbs? 156 of 1305 . I could. And the sergeant grinning up. Dearest Papli. Poldy. My son inside her. their four trunks swaying. Mr Power said. she’s a dear girl. She had that cream gown on with the rip she never stitched. God. Had to refuse the Greystones concert. Martin Cunningham said. if he hadn’t that squint troubling him. Same thing watered down. Give us a touch. Got big then. The carriage heeled over and back. Mr Dedalus said. Yes. O jumping Jupiter! Ye gods and little fishes! Still. Mullingar. —Are we late? Mr Power asked. life. Learn German too.

What do you think. Mr Dedalus sighed resignedly. Martin? —It struck me too. it’s the most natural thing in the world. Glad I took that bath. Mr Dedalus. —Yes. —And Corny Kelleher himself? Mr Power asked. —After all. —What’s wrong? 157 of 1305 . Mr Power said. —At the cemetery. Martin Cunningham said. He said he’d try to come. frowned downward and said: —Unless I’m greatly mistaken.Ulysses —Someone seems to have been making a picnic party here lately. —Did Tom Kernan turn up? Martin Cunningham asked. twisting his nose. twirling the peak of his beard gently. Mr Bloom answered. Martin Cunningham said. But I wish Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better. Mr Bloom set his thigh down. Feel my feet quite clean. Mr Bloom said. —I met M’Coy this morning. All raised their thighs and eyed with disfavour the mildewed buttonless leather of the seats. he said. He’s behind with Ned Lambert and Hynes. The carriage halted short.

Got off lightly with illnesses compared. Canvassing for death. Whooping cough they say it cures. pined away. Mr Power said. He took it to heart.Ulysses —We’re stopped. he said. Martin Cunningham said. Like through a colander. —The weather is changing. Scarlatina. Poor children! Doubles them up black and blue in convulsions. Poor old Athos! Be good to Athos. I thought it would. We obey them in the grave. My boots were creaking I remember now. —The grand canal. Old men’s dogs usually are. Flaxseed tea. Thy will be done. Curious. Shame really. he said quietly. 158 of 1305 . Leopold. Only measles. —Where are we? Mr Bloom put his head out of the window. influenza epidemics. —Wanted for the country. There’s the sun again coming out. is my last wish. Dogs’ home over there. —A pity it did not keep up fine. A raindrop spat on his hat. Good job Milly never got it. Apart. A dying scrawl. Gasworks. Don’t miss this chance. Quiet brute. He drew back and saw an instant of shower spray dots over the grey flags.

—Immense. Martin Cunningham said pompously. His singing of that simple ballad. Wait till you hear him. The carriage turned again its stiff wheels and their trunks swayed gently. —O. He’s dead nuts on that. Mr Bloom took the paper from his inside pocket. draw him out. Where is it? —In the paper this morning. Mr Dedalus said quickly. —No. —We’re off again. Simon. no. —Trenchant.Ulysses Mr Dedalus. Mr Dedalus said. —Did you read Dan Dawson’s speech? Martin Cunningham asked. he said. Mr Power said eagerly. And the retrospective arrangement. Later on please. Martin Cunningham twirled more quickly the peak of his beard. peering through his glasses towards the veiled sun. Martin. Martin. —I did not then. hurled a mute curse at the sky. Mr Power said laughing. on Ben Dollard’s singing of The Croppy Boy. he said. is the most trenchant rendering I ever heard in the whole course of my experience. That book I must change for her. —It’s as uncertain as a child’s bottom. —Tom Kernan was immense last night. 159 of 1305 . And Paddy Leonard taking him off to his face.

Aged 88 after a long and tedious illness. Dear Henry fled. Dignam. 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. Only two there now. Inked characters fast fading on the frayed breaking paper. The other trotting round with a fare. Peake. scanning the deaths: Callan. To the inexpressible grief of his. Fawcett. There all right. I tore up the envelope? Yes. Too much bone in their skulls. Urbright. The jarvies raised their hats. Thanks to the Little Flower. Sadly missed. Meade’s yard. Before my patience are exhausted.Ulysses Mr Bloom’s glance travelled down the edge of the paper. Naumann. Lowry. Sexton. The hazard. Where did I put her letter after I read it in the bath? He patted his waistcoatpocket. Full as a tick. Couldn’t they invent something automatic so that the 160 of 1305 . Month’s mind: Quinlan. An hour ago I was passing there. Coleman. On whose soul Sweet Jesus have mercy. National school. Nodding. A pointsman’s back straightened itself upright suddenly against a tramway standard by Mr Bloom’s window. what Peake is that? is it the chap was in Crosbie and Alleyne’s? no.

under the railway bridge. Nothing on there. Could I go to see LEAH tonight. Wet bright bills for next week. Have to stand a drink or two. Mr Power said. Big powerful change.Ulysses 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. Mr Power said. 161 of 1305 . There he is airing his quiff. People in law perhaps. Sir Philip Crampton’s memorial fountain bust. he does. Not much grief there. Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Who was he? —How do you do? Martin Cunningham said. Plasto’s. He’s coming in the afternoon. raising his palm to his brow in salute. Quarter mourning. —He doesn’t see us. Yes. How do you do? —Who? Mr Dedalus asked. past the Queen’s theatre: in silence. —Blazes Boylan. As broad as it’s long. I said I. A man in a buff suit with a crape armlet. Or the Lily of Killarney? Elster Grimes Opera Company. Martin Cunningham could work a pass for the Gaiety. Her songs. They went past the bleak pulpit of saint Mark’s. Fun on the Bristol. I wonder. Hoardings: Eugene Stratton.

Shoulders. —Are you going yourself? 162 of 1305 . Hips. The nails. Night of the dance dressing.Ulysses Just that moment I was thinking. yes. What causes that? I suppose the skin can’t contract quickly enough when the flesh falls off. Shift stuck between the cheeks behind. Mr Bloom reviewed the nails of his left hand. I am just looking at them: well pared. He clasped his hands between his knees and. I would notice that: from remembering. very well.. satisfied. And after: thinking alone. But the shape is there. Mr Bloom said. My nails. Mr Dedalus bent across to salute. The shape is there still. That keeps him alive. Mr Power asked: —How is the concert tour getting on. you see . Plump. Instinct. Bloom? —O. But a type like that. They sometimes feel what a person is. Worst man in Dublin. I hear great accounts of it. Is there anything more in him that they she sees? Fascination.. From the door of the Red Bank the white disc of a straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed. then those of his right hand. It’s a good idea. Body getting a bit softy. sent his vacant glance over their faces.

Doyle and John MacCormack I hope and. Tweedy. Wonder why he was struck off the rolls. Same house as Molly’s namesake. his mouth opening: oot. crown solicitor for Waterford. The carriage wheeling by Farrell’s statue united noiselessly their unresisting knees. Oot: a dullgarbed old man from the curbstone tendered his wares. Had his office in Hume street. Martin Cunningham said. The best. In point of fact I have to go down to the county Clare on some private business. Mr Bloom unclasped his hands in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped them. —Quite so. Relics of old decency. J. Someone has laid a bunch of flowers there. For many happy returns. Must be his deathday. Terrible 163 of 1305 . in fact. You see the idea is to tour the chief towns. Have you good artists? —Louis Werner is touring her. Woman. Last but not least. Smith O’Brien. Has that silk hat ever since. we’ll have all topnobbers. O yes. Mr Bloom said. Mourning too. —Four bootlaces for a penny. Mr Bloom said. —And Madame.Ulysses —Well no. Mr Power said smiling. What you lose on one you can make up on the other. C. Mary Anderson is up there now.

there is no carnal. Nice fellow. stumping round the corner of Elvery’s Elephant house. Beautiful on that tre her voice is: weeping tone. was it? They passed under the hugecloaked Liberator’s form. His eyes passed lightly over Mr Power’s goodlooking face. You would imagine that would get played out pretty quick. Who knows is that true about the woman he keeps? Not pleasant for the wife. There is a word throstle that expresses that. Up. voglio e non vorrei. A smile goes a long way. A tall blackbearded figure. who was it told me. Yet they say. he said. Looking at the tips of her hairs to see if they are split. poor wretch! Kicked about like snuff at a wake. Mi trema un poco il. vorrei e non. O’Callaghan on his last legs. bent on a stick. No. showed them a curved hand open on his spine. What is this she was? Barmaid in Jury’s. A throstle.Ulysses comedown. I smiled back. Or the Moira. 164 of 1305 . Mrs Fleming is in to clean. A thrush. And Madame. Madame: smiling. —Of the tribe of Reuben. Yes. it was Crofton met him one evening bringing her a pound of rumpsteak. Martin Cunningham nudged Mr Power. Doing her hair. Greyish over the ears. humming. Twenty past eleven. Only politeness perhaps.

Isn’t it awfully good? —What is that? Mr Dedalus asked. He caressed his beard. Mr Dedalus looked after the stumping figure and said mildly: —The devil break the hasp of your back! Mr Power. That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it? 165 of 1305 ... —About the boatman? Mr Power asked. collapsing in laughter. Mr Power said. —What? Mr Dedalus asked. —Yes. Martin Cunningham said broadly. —There was a girl in the case. nearly all of us. adding: —Well. 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. —We have all been there.Ulysses —In all his pristine beauty. Mr Bloom began. His eyes met Mr Bloom’s eyes. I didn’t hear it. and he determined to send him to the Isle of Man out of harm’s way but when they were both . shaded his face from the window as the carriage passed Gray’s statue.

Martin Cunningham said. Mr Bloom said. Martin Cunningham affirmed. I wish to Christ he did! Mr Power sent a long laugh down his shaded nostrils. gave the boatman a florin for saving his son’s life. —No. But the funny part is . —And Reuben J. Mr Bloom said. A stifled sigh came from under Mr Power’s hand. Like a hero. 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. the son himself .Ulysses —Yes... 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... They were both on the way to the boat and he tried to drown . —For God’s sake! Mr Dedalus exclaimed in fright. he did. A silver florin. 166 of 1305 . —Isn’t it awfully good? Mr Bloom said eagerly. —Yes. Half the town was there. Mr Bloom said. —O... —Drown Barabbas! Mr Dedalus cried. Is he dead? —Dead! Martin Cunningham cried.

Blazing face: redhot. Mr Dedalus said drily. He went very suddenly. 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 tapped his chest sadly. Too much John Barleycorn. A lot of money he spent colouring it. poor little Paddy wouldn’t grudge us a laugh. poor fellow. Mr Dedalus sighed.Ulysses —One and eightpence too much. Cure for a red nose. Heart. Mr Dedalus said. he said. he said. He’s gone from us. Drink like the devil till it turns adelite. —Eight plums a penny! Eight for a penny! —We had better look a little serious. —As decent a little man as ever wore a hat. Martin Cunningham said. wiping his wet eyes with his fingers. —He had a sudden death. —Breakdown. —The Lord forgive me! Mr Power said. Mr Power gazed at the passing houses with rueful apprehension. Nelson’s pillar. Mr Power’s choked laugh burst quietly in the carriage. 167 of 1305 . Many a good one he told himself. Martin Cunningham said. —Ah then indeed.

Martin Cunningham said. Their wide open eyes looked at him. Our. temperance hotel. Dwarf’s body. Foundation stone for Parnell. Like dying in sleep. Unmarried. A child. weak as putty. Mr Dedalus said. Little. Gill’s. A moment and all is over. land agents. Why? Some reason. Under the patronage of the late Father Mathew. 168 of 1305 . Penny a week for a sod of turf. Dull business by day. Mr Bloom said. civil service college. in a whitelined deal box. —Poor little thing. Burial friendly society pays. Dun for a nun. Breakdown. mauve and wrinkled like little Rudy’s was. Better luck next time. catholic club. If not from the man. galloping. Sun or wind. Baby. Piebald for bachelors. White horses with white frontlet plumes came round the Rotunda corner. Dead side of the street this. he said. Beggar. Black for the married. Chummies and slaveys. —Sad. A tiny coffin flashed by. A mourning coach. the industrious blind. —No suffering. A dwarf’s face. No-one spoke. Heart. Mistake of nature. In a hurry to bury. If it’s healthy it’s from the mother. Falconer’s railway guide. It’s well out of it.Ulysses —The best death. At night too. Meant nothing.

—It is not for us to judge. —In the midst of life. Rattle his bones. And that awful 169 of 1305 . Mr Bloom. Martin Cunningham said. They used to drive a stake of wood through his heart in the grave. They have no mercy on that here or infanticide. Looking away now. of course. is the man who takes his own life. Only a pauper. Mr Dedalus said. —But the worst of all. closed his lips again. —Temporary insanity. Mr Power said. Nobody owns. Found in the riverbed clutching rushes. Intelligent. Martin Cunningham said. Martin Cunningham’s large eyes. about to speak. He looked at me. Over the stones. Always a good word to say. —They say a man who does it is a coward. —The greatest disgrace to have in the family. Yet sometimes they repent too late. Mr Power added. As if it wasn’t broken already. We must take a charitable view of it. coughed and put it back. Like Shakespeare’s face. Sympathetic human man he is. Martin Cunningham said decisively. Martin Cunningham drew out his watch briskly. Refuse christian burial.Ulysses The carriage climbed more slowly the hill of Rutland square.

Wake no more. Drunk about the place and capering with Martin’s umbrella. Start afresh. 170 of 1305 . Then saw like yellow streaks on his face. Boots giving evidence. The coroner’s sunlit ears. Wear the heart out of a stone. Monday morning. For my son Leopold. The carriage rattled swiftly along Blessington street. Shoulder to the wheel. That afternoon of the inquest.Ulysses drunkard of a wife of his. He looked away from me. Verdict: overdose. Over the stones. The Geisha. that. Setting up house for her time after time and then pawning the furniture on him every Saturday almost. Thought he was asleep first. Sunlight through the slats of the Venetian blind. Lord. The room in the hotel with hunting pictures. Had slipped down to the foot of the bed. The redlabelled bottle on the table. No more pain. The letter. Death by misadventure. she must have looked a sight that night Dedalus told me he was in there. Stuffy it was. Nobody owns. Leading him the life of the damned. Rattle his bones. And they call me the jewel of Asia. Of Asia. big and hairy. He knows.

Nice young student that was dressed that bite the bee gave me. Eccles street. They look terrible the women. My house down there. That will be worth seeing. He left me on my ownio. The Gordon Bennett. Dead March from Saul. Mr Power said.Ulysses —We are going the pace. He’s as bad as old Antonio. As they turned into Berkeley street a streetorgan near the Basin sent over and after them a rollicking rattling song of the halls. Where old Mrs Riordan died. faith. That will be a great race tomorrow in Germany. —What’s wrong now? 171 of 1305 . Ward for incurables there. Her feeding cup and rubbing her mouth with the spoon. Then the screen round her bed for her to die. Has anybody here seen Kelly? Kay ee double ell wy. Martin Cunningham said. Pirouette! The Mater Misericordiae. Mr Dedalus said. I think. by Jove. Deadhouse handy underneath. From one extreme to the other. The carriage galloped round a corner: stopped. Big place. —Yes. Very encouraging. He’s gone over to the lying-in hospital they told me. Our Lady’s Hospice for the dying. Martin Cunningham said. —I hope not. —God grant he doesn’t upset us on the road.

horns. soap. Outside them and through them ran raddled sheep bleating their fear. Huuuh! out of that! Thursday. Tomorrow is killing day. margarine. hair. —Emigrants. 172 of 1305 . of course. And then the fifth quarter lost: all that raw stuff. Cuffe sold them about twentyseven quid each. All those animals could be taken in trucks down to the boats. Wonder if that dodge works now getting dicky meat off the train at Clonsilla.Ulysses A divided drove of branded cattle passed the windows. They ought to. —Huuuh! the drover’s voice cried. Dead meat trade. lowing. —Instead of blocking up the thoroughfare. Roastbeef for old England. Mr Bloom said. They buy up all the juicy ones. his switch sounding on their flanks. Comes to a big thing in a year. Byproducts of the slaughterhouses for tanneries. Quite right. slouching by on padded hoofs. —I can’t make out why the corporation doesn’t run a tramline from the parkgate to the quays. Martin Cunningham said. Springers. hide. For Liverpool probably. The carriage moved on through the drove. Mr Power said. whisking their tails slowly on their clotted bony croups.

Asking what’s up now. Pullman car and saloon diningroom. Mr Bloom said. Paddy Dignam shot out and rolling over stiff in the dust in a brown habit too large for him. Quite right to close it. Gordon Bennett cup. that be damned for a story. Burst open. Red face: grey now. Wouldn’t it be more decent than galloping two abreast? —Well. —And. Mr Dedalus said. Terrible! —First round Dunphy’s. we wouldn’t have scenes like that when the hearse capsized round Dunphy’s and upset the coffin on to the road. Martin Cunningham said. you know. —Praises be to God! Martin Cunningham said piously. Run the line out to the cemetery gates and have special trams. Mr Dedalus said. Mr Dedalus granted. —Why? Mr Bloom asked. Looks horrid open. —A poor lookout for Corny. nodding. and the corpse fell about the road. Don’t you see what I mean? —O. Bom! Upset. Then the 173 of 1305 . there’s something in that. Mouth fallen open. Mr Power added. Mr Power’s shocked face said. —That was terrible. and another thing I often thought. turning to Mr Dedalus.Ulysses —Yes. is to have municipal funeral trams like they have in Milan. hearse and carriage and all. A coffin bumped out on to the road.

Aboard of the Bugabu. A pause by the wayside. Seal up all. Would he bleed if a nail say cut him in the knocking about? He would and he wouldn’t. Tiptop position for a pub. In silence they drove along Phibsborough road. also. 174 of 1305 . Expect we’ll pull up here on the way back to drink his health. The circulation stops. coming from the cemetery: looks relieved. A man stood on his dropping barge. Yes. Elixir of life. Much better to close up all the orifices. With wax. Mr Power announced as the carriage turned right.Ulysses insides decompose quickly. Pass round the consolation. Crossguns bridge: the royal canal. On the towpath by the lock a slacktethered horse. An empty hearse trotted by. between clamps of turf. Depends on where. drowning their grief. —Dunphy’s. But suppose now it did happen. Dunphy’s corner. It would be better to bury them in red: a dark red. The sphincter loose. Still some might ooze out of an artery. Water rushed roaring through the sluices. Mourning coaches drawn up. I suppose.

saluting Paddy Dignam. He lifted his brown straw hat. Wren had one the other day at the auction but a lady’s. James M’Cann’s hobby to row me o’er the ferry. —I wonder how is our friend Fogarty getting on. Hire some old crock. Leixlip. safety. Mr Dedalus said. Left him weeping. to memory dear. Also hearses.Ulysses Their eyes watched him. Clonsilla. Or cycle down. Near it now. Mullingar. over slime. I suppose? —Though lost to sight. Salute. I could make a walking tour to see Milly by the canal. —How is that? Martin Cunningham said. 175 of 1305 . Mr Dedalus said. Camping out. They drove on past Brian Boroimhe house. By easy stages. Houseboats. carrion dogs. Moyvalley. On the slow weedy waterway he had floated on his raft coastward over Ireland drawn by a haulage rope past beds of reeds. Perhaps I will without writing. With turf from the midland bogs. Mr Power said. mudchoked bottles. Athlone. Come as a surprise. Dropping down lock by lock to Dublin. To heaven by water. —Better ask Tom Kernan. The carriage steered left for Finglas road. Cheaper transit. Developing waterways.

pointing. holding out calm hands. Martin Cunningham added. Whole place 176 of 1305 . H. Crowded on the spit of land silent shapes appeared. Mr Power said. —The crown had no evidence. knelt in grief. sorrowful. Mr Dedalus said. Murdered his brother. white. —That is where Childs was murdered. grumbling. an old tramp sat. Seymour Bushe got him off. It passed darkly. the sexton’s. Gloomy gardens then went by: one by one: gloomy houses. Mr Power pointed. The best obtainable. he said. Murderer’s ground. —So it is. Passed. unweeded garden. Dennany. After life’s journey. tenantless.Ulysses The stonecutter’s yard on the right. Shuttered. emptying the dirt and stones out of his huge dustbrown yawning boot. The last house. That’s the maxim of the law. Thos. Or so they said. Last lap. A gruesome case. In white silence: appealing. On the curbstone before Jimmy Geary. hewn. —Only circumstantial. Fragments of shapes. They looked. monumental builder and sculptor. Better for ninetynine guilty to escape than for one innocent person to be wrongfully condemned.

Mr Power and Mr Dedalus followed. Never forgive you after.Ulysses gone to hell. Murderer is still at large. He stepped out of the carriage. The felly harshed against the curbstone: stopped. Must be careful about women. Martin Cunningham put out his arm and. The murderer’s image in the eye of the murdered. Dark poplars. Mr Bloom’s hand unbuttoned his hip pocket swiftly and transferred the paperstuck soap to his inner handkerchief pocket. Recent outrage. wrenching back the handle. Man’s head found in a garden. Murder will out. Wrongfully condemned. Change that soap now. The body to be exhumed. rare white forms. She mightn’t like me to come that way without letting her know. Forms more frequent. replacing the newspaper his other hand still held. Catch them once with their pants down. white forms and fragments streaming by mutely. white shapes thronged amid the trees. A shoelace. Fifteen. He stepped out. They love reading about it. The high railings of Prospect rippled past their gaze. How she met her death. sustaining vain gestures on the air. shoved the door open with his knee. Clues. 177 of 1305 . Her clothing consisted of. The weapon used. Cramped in this carriage. Murder.

Coffin now. Where is that child’s funeral disappeared to? A team of horses passed from Finglas with toiling plodding tread. firing a volley. gold reins. Pallbearers. Funerals all over the world everywhere every minute. Simnel cakes those are. Who ate them? Mourners coming out. Shovelling them under by the cartload doublequick. dragging through the funereal silence a creaking waggon on which lay a granite block. dead as he is. The waggoner marching at their head saluted. Corny Kelleher stood by the opened hearse and took out the two wreaths. stuck together: cakes for the dead. Mr Kernan and Ned Lambert followed. Do they know what they cart out here every day? Must be twenty or thirty funerals every day. It’s all the same. requiem mass. pressing on a bloodvessel or something. Hynes walking after them. Horse looking round at it with his plume skeowways. Then Mount Jerome for the protestants.Ulysses Paltry funeral: coach and three carriages. 178 of 1305 . Dogbiscuits. He followed his companions. He handed one to the boy. Pomp of death. Too many in the world. Got here before us. Thousands every hour. Beyond the hind carriage a hawker stood by his barrow of cakes and fruit. Dull eye: collar tight on his neck.

Corny Kelleher and the boy followed with their wreaths. Had the Queen’s hotel in Ennis. holding the woman’s arm. her bonnet awry. Martin Cunningham whispered. Speaking. Felt heavier myself stepping out of that bath. —O God! Mr Power whispered. Anniversary. The mutes shouldered the coffin and bore it in through the gates. —Was he insured? Mr Bloom asked. —What? Mr Power whispered. 179 of 1305 .Ulysses Mourners came out through the gates: woman and a girl. Girl’s face stained with dirt and tears. So much dead weight. looking up at her for a sign to cry. Who is that beside them? Ah. bloodless and livid. Martin Cunningham whispered: —I was in mortal agony with you talking of suicide before Bloom. How so? —His father poisoned himself. First the stiff: then the friends of the stiff. You heard him say he was going to Clare. the brother-in-law. hard woman at a bargain. Fish’s face. All walked after. Poisoned himself? He glanced behind him to where a face with dark thinking eyes followed towards the cardinal’s mausoleum. First I heard of it. Leanjawed harpy.

Yet who knows after. Martin is trying to get the youngster into Artane. Victoria and Albert. Five young children. He looked down at the boots he had blacked and polished. Consort not even a king. Drawn on a guncarriage. —How many children did he leave? —Five. She would marry another. Has the laugh at him now. —A great blow to the poor wife. Mr Bloom said gently. Mr Kernan answered. I hope you’ll soon follow him. Her son was the substance. There are more women than men in the world. Mr Kernan added. She had outlived him. —Indeed yes. Frogmore memorial mourning. For Hindu widows only. All for a shadow. Ned Lambert says he’ll try to get one of the girls into Todd’s. But the policy was heavily mortgaged. —A sad case. Him? No. Widowhood not the thing since the old queen died. Your terrible loss. Condole with her. Lost her husband. Mr Bloom agreed.Ulysses —I believe so. One must outlive the other. Something new to hope for not like the past 180 of 1305 . Wise men say. Vain in her heart of hearts. More dead for her than for me. But in the end she put a few violets in her bonnet.

Stopped with Dick Tivy. How are all in Cork’s own town? —I was down there for the Cork park races on Easter Monday. Same old six and eightpence. yes. —Never better. Simon? Ned Lambert said softly. —Yes. Dick Tivy bald? —Martin is going to get up a whip for the youngsters. He put down his name for a quid. —How are you. pointing ahead. It never comes.Ulysses she wanted back. —And how is Dick. Ned Lambert answered. Ned Lambert said. Ned Lambert said. with the wife’s brother. the solid man? —Nothing between himself and heaven. Is that the eldest boy in front? —Yes. Ned Lambert said. Just to keep them going till the insurance is cleared up. Mr Dedalus said dubiously. John Henry Menton is behind. clasping hands. waiting. A few bob a skull. Haven’t seen you for a month of Sundays. under the ground: and lie no more in her warm bed. 181 of 1305 . One must go first: alone. —By the holy Paul! Mr Dedalus said in subdued wonder.

All he might have done. four tall yellow candles at its corners. laying a wreath at each fore corner. Mr Dedalus said. John Henry is not the worst in the world. I owe three shillings to O’Grady.Ulysses —I’ll engage he did. dropped carefully his unfolded newspaper from his pocket and knelt his right 182 of 1305 . blinking in the screened light. 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. what? —Many a good man’s fault. Liquor. Mr Dedalus said with a sigh. Would he understand? The mutes bore the coffin into the chapel. The mourners knelt here and there in prayingdesks. when all had knelt. Mr Bloom stood behind near the font and. I often told poor Paddy he ought to mind that job. Which end is his head? After a moment he followed the others in. They halted about the door of the mortuary chapel. The coffin lay on its bier before the chancel. —How did he lose it? Ned Lambert asked. beckoned to the boy to kneel. Corny Kelleher. Poor boy! Was he there when the father? Both unconscious. Always in front of us. Lighten up at the last moment and recognise for the last time.

With a belly on him like a poisoned pup. They halted by the bier and the priest began to read out of his book with a fluent croak. Burst sideways like a sheep in clover Dedalus says he will. Hhhn: burst sideways. Your name on the altarlist. bent over piously. He fitted his black hat gently on his left knee and. —Non intres in judicium cum servo tuo. Want to feed well. Most amusing expressions that man finds. Father Coffey. said the rook. Makes them feel more important to be prayed over in Latin. Eyes of a toad too. The whitesmocked priest came after him. Bully about the muzzle he looks. Chilly place this. Requiem mass. Bosses the show. Woe betide anyone that looks crooked at him: priest. Thou art Peter. Looks full 183 of 1305 . A server bearing a brass bucket with something in it came out through a door. Domine-namine. tidying his stole with one hand. Crape weepers. Muscular christian. balancing with the other a little book against his toad’s belly. Air of the place maybe. Domine. holding its brim.Ulysses knee upon it. What swells him up that way? Molly gets swelled after cabbage. Blackedged notepaper. Who’ll read the book? I. I knew his name was like a coffin. sitting in there all the morning in the gloom kicking his heels waiting for the next please.

Who was telling me? Mervyn Browne. The server piped the answers in the treble. As you were before you rested. Every mortal day a fresh batch: middleaged men. Holy water that was. men with beards. 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. Then he walked to the other end and shook it again.Ulysses up of bad gas. What harm if he could see what he was shaking it over. Ow. old women. I often thought it would be better to have boy servants. baldheaded businessmen. Shaking sleep out of it. My kneecap is hurting me. Up to fifteen or so. consumptive girls with little sparrows’ 184 of 1305 . Butchers. One whiff of that and you’re a goner. women dead in childbirth. Must be an infernal lot of bad gas round the place. That’s better. of course . for instance: they get like raw beefsteaks. He must be fed up with that job. It’s all written down: he has to do it.. —Et ne nos inducas in tentationem. children. shaking that thing over all the corpses they trot up. After that.. 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. Out it rushes: blue. Then he came back and put it back in the bucket. I expect.

185 of 1305 .Ulysses breasts. 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. On Dignam now. Mr Dedalus said about him. —The O’Connell circle. Mr Bloom came last folding his paper again into his pocket. Said he was going to paradise or is in paradise. The priest closed his book and went off. Lord. —In paradisum. Mr Power’s soft eyes went up to the apex of the lofty cone. followed by the server. But he has to say something. All the year round he prayed the same thing over them all and shook water on top of them: sleep. Corny Kelleher gave one wreath to the boy and one to the brother-in-law. The ree the ra the ree the ra the roo. He gazed gravely at the ground till the coffincart wheeled off to the left. All followed them out of the sidedoors into the mild grey air. carried it out and shoved it on their cart. Corny Kelleher opened the sidedoors and the gravediggers came in. Says that over everybody. I mustn’t lilt here. Tiresome kind of a job. hoisted the coffin again.

Mr Kernan began politely. How many broken hearts are buried here. old Dan O’. Mr Bloom closed his eyes and sadly twice bowed his head. in the middle of his people. Mr Dedalus said. don’t you think? Mr Kernan said with reproof. Jack. he began to weep to himself quietly. Corny Kelleher stepped aside from his rank and allowed the mourners to plod by. —Sad occasions. he said kindly.Ulysses —He’s at rest. stumbling a little in his walk. he said. Mr Bloom nodded gravely looking in the quick bloodshot eyes. Mason. Mr Kernan said. I suppose we can do so too. Mr Dedalus said with a weak gasp. Let Him take me whenever He likes. I suppose she is in heaven if there is a heaven. I 186 of 1305 . This cemetery is a treacherous place. Breaking down. —The others are putting on their hats. Mr Power took his arm. —She’s better where she is. They covered their heads. I’ll soon be stretched beside her. secretsearching. —I suppose so. Secret eyes. Simon! —Her grave is over there. —The reverend gentleman read the service too quickly. We are the last. But his heart is buried in Rome.

Mr Bloom said. That last day idea. The language of course was another thing. Lazarus! And he came fifth and lost the job. One fine day it gets bunged up: and there you are. Mr Kernan added: —The service of the Irish church used in Mount Jerome is simpler. Mr Bloom gave prudent assent.Ulysses think: not sure. A pump after all. livers. Get up! Last day! Then every fellow mousing around for his liver and his lights and the rest of his traps. In the same boat. Find damn all of himself that 187 of 1305 . more impressive I must say. Seat of the affections. pumping thousands of gallons of blood every day. Hope he’ll say something else. Lots of them lying around here: lungs. hearts. Knocking them all up out of their graves. —It does. Once you are dead you are dead. Broken heart. The resurrection and the life. Come forth. Mr Kernan said with solemnity: —I am the resurrection and the life. Beside him again. Old rusty pumps: damn the thing else. That touches a man’s inmost heart. Your heart perhaps but what price the fellow in the six feet by two with his toes to the daisies? No touching that. We are the last.

—What? Eh? Corny Kelleher said. I haven’t seen her for some time. at bowls. He looked behind through the others. —O. at Mat Dillon’s in Roundtown. Troy measure. he was a finelooking woman. John Henry Menton said. Pennyweight of powder in a skull. I remember. is. —What is he? he asked. And a good armful she was. to be sure. he said. Ned Lambert glanced back. I danced with her. he said. the soprano. What does he do? Wasn’t he in the stationery line? I fell foul of him one evening. —Who is that chap behind with Tom Kernan? John Henry Menton asked. I know his face. Policeman’s shoulders. 188 of 1305 . —As it should be. Corny Kelleher fell into step at their side. Madame Marion Tweedy that was. Ned Lambert smiled. —Everything went off A1. fifteen seventeen golden years ago. wait. What? He looked on them from his drawling eye. She’s his wife. I mean. With your tooraloom tooraloom. —Bloom.Ulysses morning. Mr Kernan assured him. Twelve grammes one pennyweight. Mr Kernan said.

in Wisdom Hely’s. what did she marry a coon like that for? She had plenty of game in her then. he said. A traveller for blottingpaper. John Henry Menton said. A portly man. —In God’s name. 189 of 1305 . John Henry Menton’s large eyes stared ahead.Ulysses —Yes. Mr Dedalus said: —I am come to pay you another visit. he was. —Did you hear that one. Mr Power said pleased. about Mulcahy from the Coombe? —I did not. He never forgets a friend. —My dear Simon. He does some canvassing for ads. I don’t want your custom at all. Mr O’Connell shook all their hands in silence. ambushed among the grasses. The gravediggers touched their caps. Saluting Ned Lambert and John Henry Menton he walked on at Martin Cunningham’s side puzzling two long keys at his back. —John O’Connell. he asked them. the caretaker answered in a low voice. Martin Cunningham said. —Has still. Ned Lambert said. The barrow turned into a side lane. raised his hat in homage.

One of the drunks spelt out the name: Terence Mulcahy. turning them over and scanning them as he walked. He resumed: —And. I know that. The other drunk was blinking up at a statue of Our Saviour the widow had got put up. accepting the dockets given him. he said. that two drunks came out here one foggy evening to look for the grave of a friend of theirs. says he. Hynes said. That’s not Mulcahy.Ulysses They bent their silk hats in concert and Hynes inclined his ear. Not a bloody bit like the man. —That’s all done with a purpose. Martin Cunningham explained to Hynes. 190 of 1305 . after blinking up at the sacred figure. Rewarded by smiles he fell back and spoke with Corny Kelleher. says he. After traipsing about in the fog they found the grave sure enough. whoever done it. —They tell the story. —I know. The caretaker hung his thumbs in the loops of his gold watchchain and spoke in a discreet tone to their vacant smiles. They asked for Mulcahy from the Coombe and were told where he was buried. The caretaker blinked up at one of the sepulchres they passed.

Be the better of a shave. John O’Connell. Habeas corpus. Come out and live in the graveyard. It might thrill her first. Tell her a ghost story in bed to make her sleep. Want to keep her mind off it to conceive at all. Mr Bloom admired the caretaker’s prosperous bulk. Gas of graves.. Decent fellow. And temper getting cross. Have you ever seen a ghost? Well. Dangle that before her. I must see about that ad after the funeral. That’s the first sign when the hairs come out grey. Silver threads among the grey. It’s pure goodheartedness: damn the thing else. Fancy being his wife. Women especially are so touchy. Martin Cunningham said. Shades of night hovering here with all the dead stretched about.Ulysses —To cheer a fellow up. Will o’ the wisp. real good sort. Courting death .. I have. All want to be on good terms with him. Wonder he had the gumption to propose to any girl. It was a 191 of 1305 . Grey sprouting beard. 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. Keys: like Keyes’s ad: no fear of anyone getting out. No passout checks. 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.

Love among the tombstones. In the midst of death we are in life. He has seen a fair share go under in his time. Molly wanting to do it at the window. And very neat he keeps it too: trim grass and edgings. Learn anything if taken young. epicure. Men like that. Still they’d kiss all right if properly keyed up. lying around him field after field. Well preserved fat corpse. gentleman. The clock was on the stroke of twelve. Chinese cemeteries with giant poppies growing produce the best opium Mastiansky told me. Romeo. All honeycombed the ground must be: oblong cells. Same idea those jews they said killed the christian boy. It’s the blood sinking in the earth gives new life. Desire to grig people. His garden Major Gamble calls Mount Jerome. The Botanic Gardens are just over there. Sitting or kneeling you couldn’t. Standing? His head might come up some day above ground in a landslip with his hand pointing. Whores in Turkish graveyards. Spice of pleasure. Both ends meet. Tantalising for the poor dead. 192 of 1305 . Smell of grilled beefsteaks to the starving.Ulysses pitchdark night. Eight children he has anyway. Every man his price. so it is. Well. Gnawing their vitals. You might pick up a young widow here. Ought to be flowers of sleep. Holy fields. More room if they buried them standing.

m. Then begin to get black. Cracking his jokes too: warms the cockles of his heart. A juicy pear or ladies’ punch. I daresay the soil would be quite fat with corpsemanure. Turning green and pink decomposing. Not arrived yet. three pounds thirteen and six. nails. Charnelhouses. Keep out the damp. lately deceased. Deathmoths. Peter. Those pretty little seaside gurls. black treacle oozing out of them. Nothing to feed on feed on themselves. auditor and accountant. bones. With thanks.Ulysses invaluable for fruit garden. Rot quick in damp earth. (closing time). By carcass of William Wilkinson. strong and sweet. A bargain. But they must breed a devil of a lot of maggots. Your head it simply swurls. Gives him a sense of power seeing all the others go under first.m. He looks cheerful enough over it. hot. The dead themselves the men anyhow would like to hear an odd joke or the women to know what’s in fashion. Live for ever practically. Then dried up. 11 p. this morning. Then a kind of a tallowy kind of a cheesy. Wonder how he looks at life. Changing about. Of course the cells or whatever they are go on living. The lean old ones tougher. flesh. Spurgeon went to heaven 4 a. The one about the bulletin. Dreadful. You must laugh sometimes so 193 of 1305 . Soil must be simply swirling with them.

The barrow had ceased to trundle. ants too. —Two. The gravediggers bore the coffin and set its nose on the brink. stepping with care round the graves. We all do. Burying him. —How many have-you for tomorrow? the caretaker asked. A fellow could live on his lonesome all his life. The caretaker put the papers in his pocket.Ulysses better do it that way. he could. Gravediggers in Hamlet. looping the bands round it. Read your own obituary notice they say you live longer. We come to bury Caesar. Go out of mourning first. Yes. Corny Kelleher said. Hard to imagine his funeral. Gives you second wind. Daren’t joke about the dead for two years at least. New lease of life. 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. No. De mortuis nil nisi prius. Only man buries. Always someone turns up you never dreamt of. First thing 194 of 1305 . The mourners split and moved to each side of the hole. Seems a sort of a joke. He doesn’t know who is here nor care. Still he’d have to get someone to sod him after he died though he could dig his own grave. Half ten and eleven. Shows the profound knowledge of the human heart. His ides of March or June.

Silly superstition that about thirteen. his hat in his hand. I see what it means. Dressy fellow he was once. All gnawed through. I had one like that when we lived in Lombard street west. Nice soft tweed Ned Lambert has in that suit. Tinge of purple. Used to change 195 of 1305 . The Irishman’s house is his coffin. Say Robinson Crusoe was true to life. They’re so particular. To protect him as long as possible even in the earth. Only a mother and deadborn child ever buried in the one coffin. poor Robinson Crusoe! How could you possibly do so? Poor Dignam! His last lie on the earth in his box. that I’ll swear. Death’s number. mummies the same idea. I see. Lay me in my native earth. Bury the dead. When you think of them all it does seem a waste of wood. Well then Friday buried him. Bit of clay from the holy land.Ulysses strikes anybody. counting the bared heads. No. Every Friday buries a Thursday if you come to look at it. I’m thirteen. Ay but they might object to be buried out of another fellow’s. The chap in the macintosh is thirteen. Mr Bloom stood far back. Where the deuce did he pop out of? He wasn’t in the chapel. O. let it down that way. Twelve. Embalming in catacombs. They could invent a handsome bier with a kind of panel sliding.

Whispering around you. they say. They hide. It’s dyed. Well. Far away a donkey brayed. Feel no more. Twenty. Try the house opposite. Mr Bloom moved behind the portly kindly caretaker. They struggled up and out: and all uncovered. Must be damned unpleasant. I haven’t yet. Hello. Pause. No such ass. I wanted to. Rain. Delirium all you 196 of 1305 . it is a long rest. Must get that grey suit of mine turned by Mesias. eased down by the men straddled on the gravetrestles. Wait. Would you like to see a priest? Then rambling and wandering. Never see a dead one. Light they want. Whisper. Gentle sweet air blew round the bared heads in a whisper. Shame of death. The coffin dived out of sight. Then darkened deathchamber.Ulysses three suits in the day. His wife I forgot he’s not married or his landlady ought to have picked out those threads for him. Mistake must be: someone else. If we were all suddenly somebody else. Weighing them up perhaps to see which will go next. Can’t believe it at first. Also poor papa went away. Wellcut frockcoat. It’s the moment you feel. The boy by the gravehead held his wreath with both hands staring quietly in the black open space.

Then they follow: dropping into a hole. The death struggle. that would be awful! No. Don’t forget to pray for him. People talk about you a bit: forget you. Someone walking over it. We are praying now for the repose of his soul. Near you. And if he was alive all the time? Whew! By jingo. Gone at last. Watching is his nose pointed is his jaw sinking are the soles of his feet yellow. the plot I bought. Does he ever think of the hole waiting for himself? They say you do when you shiver in the sun. Out of the fryingpan of life into the fire of purgatory.Ulysses hid all your life. Mr Bloom turned away his face. one after the other. His sleep is not natural. Of course he is dead. no: he is dead. Monday he died. They ought to have 197 of 1305 . Last act of Lucia. Mamma. and little Rudy. Hoping you’re well and not in hell. Shall i nevermore behold thee? Bam! He expires. of course. Devil in that picture of sinner’s death showing him a woman. Remember him in your prayers. Ivy day dying out. The gravediggers took up their spades and flung heavy clods of clay in on the coffin. Press his lower eyelid. Dying to embrace her in his shirt. Callboy’s warning. poor mamma. Pull the pillow away and finish it off on the floor since he’s doomed. Even Parnell. Mine over there towards Finglas. Nice change of air.

The mourners took heart of grace. Hynes said writing. The caretaker moved away a few paces and put on his hat. And you might put down M’Coy’s name too. No: coming to me. the names. He was on the Freeman once.Ulysses 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. he traversed the dismal fields. Three days. I know. one by one. Mr Bloom said. —I am just taking the names. Good idea a postmortem for doctors. Mr Bloom put on his hat and saw the portly figure make its way deftly through the maze of graves. So he was before he got the job in the morgue under Louis Byrne. Out of sight. Just as well to get shut of them as soon as you are sure there’s no. Leopold. What is your christian name? I’m not sure. Rather long to keep them in summer. Begin to be forgotten. out of mind. Hynes jotting down something in his notebook. sure of his ground. But he knows them all. Had enough of it. Quietly. Ah. Hynes said below his breath. covering themselves without show. The clay fell softer. He died of a Tuesday. 198 of 1305 . —L. He asked me to. Find out what they imagine they know. —Charley.

fellow was over there in the . what became of him? A seventh gravedigger came beside Mr Bloom to take up an idle spade. Hynes! Didn’t hear. I say. Become invisible. He looked around.. O well. —Macintosh. Hynes said scribbling. turning and stopping. Yes. I don’t know who he is.Ulysses Got the run. looking about him. I saw him. Good Lord. Mr Bloom said. Mr Bloom began. old chap: much obliged.. Thanks. What? Where has he disappeared to? Not a sign. Is that his name? He moved away. you’re my darling. —O. Leave him under an obligation: costs nothing. That was why he asked me to. —No. excuse me! He stepped aside nimbly. 199 of 1305 . I saw to that. Hynes said. does no harm. M’Coy. do you know that fellow in the. Where is he now? —M’Intosh. —And tell us. Charley. Has anybody here seen? Kay ee double ell. Well of all the. Levanted with the cash of a few ads.

walked slowly on with shouldered weapon. I know that. Headshake. following their slow thoughts. staying at whiles to read a name on a tomb. placed something in his free hand. —Let us go round by the chief’s grave.Ulysses Clay. rose. With awe Mr Power’s blank voice spoke: —Some say he is not in that grave at all. His navelcord. They turned to the right. Nearly over. The gravediggers put on their caps and carried their earthy spades towards the barrow. brown. its blade blueglancing. began to be seen in the hole. That the coffin was filled with stones. Sorry. damp. The mourners moved away slowly without aim. The brother-in-law. The boy propped his wreath against a corner: the brother-in-law his on a lump. A mound of damp clods rose more. 200 of 1305 . —Let us. Mr Power said. Then knocked the blades lightly on the turf: clean. leaving his mates. We have time. Hynes said. One bent to pluck from the haft a long tuft of grass. It rose. and the gravediggers rested their spades. All uncovered again for a few instants. For yourselves just. sir: trouble. by devious paths. That one day he will come again. One. Silently at the gravehead another coiled the coffinband. Thanks in silence. turning away.

More interesting if they told you what they were. Pray for the repose of the soul of. Near death’s door. Like down a coalshoot. —Parnell will never come again. Well it’s God’s acre for them. Old man himself. wheelwright. Who kicked the bucket. Eulogy in a country churchyard it ought to be that poem of whose is it Wordsworth or Thomas Campbell. So and So. Mr Bloom walked unheeded along his grove by saddened angels. More sensible to spend the money on some charity for the living. crosses. all that was mortal of him. Nice country residence. family vaults. Old Dr Murren’s. Twentyseventh I’ll be at his grave. Bent down double with his shears clipping. I travelled for cork lino. Or a woman’s with her saucepan. stone hopes praying with upcast eyes. old Ireland’s hearts and hands. He’s there. Does anybody really? Plant him and have done with him. Got the shove. all of them. Peace to his ashes. I paid five shillings in the pound. Who passed away. Entered into rest the protestants put it. All souls’ day.Ulysses Hynes shook his head. Newly plastered and 201 of 1305 . Ten shillings for the gardener. The great physician called him home. Who departed this life. broken pillars. he said. As if they did it of their own accord. I cooked good Irish stew. Then lump them together to save time. He keeps it free of weeds.

Like the wedding present alderman Hooper gave us. walk. Have a gramophone in every grave or keep it in the house. Ought to be sideways and red it should be painted like a real heart. Like stuffed. SillyMilly burying the little dead bird in the kitchen matchbox. As you are now so once were we. Faithful departed. Ireland was dedicated to it or whatever that. Besides how could you remember everybody? Eyes. Still. How many! All these here once walked round Dublin. garlands of bronzefoil. the flowers are more poetical. the voice. a daisychain and bits of broken chainies on the grave. The other gets rather tiresome. Seems anything but pleased. A bird sat tamely perched on a poplar branch. Heart on his sleeve. never withering. Ideal spot to have a quiet smoke and read the Church Times. Immortelles. Better value that for the money. The Sacred Heart that is: showing it. Marriage ads they never try to beautify. Knows there are no catapults to let fly at him. Expresses nothing. Rusty wreaths hung on knobs. Well. voice. yes: gramophone. Hoo! Not a budge out of him. Apollo that was. After 202 of 1305 .Ulysses painted. 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. Dead animal even sadder.

Ulysses dinner on a Sunday. say. A corpse is meat gone bad. Stop! He looked down intently into a stone crypt. Put on poor old greatgrandfather. Wait. I read in that Voyages in China that the Chinese say a white man smells like a corpse. Rtststr! A rattle of pebbles. One of those chaps would make short work of a fellow. For instance who? For instance some fellow that died when I was in Wisdom Hely’s. Some animal. Pick the bones clean no matter who it was. Good hidingplace for treasure. Robert Emmet was buried here by torchlight. moving the pebbles. Well and what’s cheese? Corpse of milk. wasn’t he? Making his rounds. Ordinary meat for them. Tail gone now. Remind you of the voice like the photograph reminds you of the face. An old stager: greatgrandfather: he knows the ropes. 203 of 1305 . The grey alive crushed itself in under the plinth. wriggled itself in under it. An obese grey rat toddled along the side of the crypt. There he goes. Kraahraark! Hellohellohello amawfullyglad kraark awfullygladaseeagain hellohello amawf krpthsth. Who lives there? Are laid the remains of Robert Emery. Otherwise you couldn’t remember the face after fifteen years. Wait.

Out of a flying machine. You will see my ghost after death. The love that kills. There is another world 204 of 1305 . Enough of this place. Priests dead against it.Ulysses Cremation better. My ghost will haunt you after death. Drowning they say is the pleasantest. Devilling for the other firm. Time of the plague. Give you the creeps after a bit. Brings you a bit nearer every time. I will appear to you after death. The gates glimmered in front: still open. Can’t bury in the air however. Wouldn’t be surprised. fire. We learned that from them. Got wind of Dignam. 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. See your whole life in a flash. But being brought back to life no. Saltwhite crumbling mush of corpse: smell. Poor papa too. Quicklime feverpits to eat them. water. Flies come before he’s well dead. Regular square feed for them. Or bury at sea. Wonder does the news go about whenever a fresh one is let down. Back to the world again. Where is that Parsee tower of silence? Eaten by birds. taste like raw white turnips. They wouldn’t care about the smell of it. Wholesale burners and Dutch oven dealers. Underground communication. Earth. Lethal chamber. Last time I was here was Mrs Sinico’s funeral. Ashes to ashes.

I know his face. John Henry. I do not like that other world she wrote. Molly and Floey Dillon linked under the lilactree. Solicitor. Heart of gold really. Martin Cunningham emerged from a sidepath. Menton. Convivial evenings. Dignam used to be in his office. No more do I. the Tantalus glasses. Hate at first sight. Feel live warm beings near you. 205 of 1305 . Yes. Jolly Mat. commissioner for oaths and affidavits.Ulysses after death named hell. Got his rag out that evening on the bowlinggreen because I sailed inside him. talking gravely. Cold fowl. I think. Why he took such a rooted dislike to me. —Your hat is a little crushed. Menton. Fellow always like that. Warm beds: warm fullblooded life. mortified if women are by. solicitor. —Excuse me. Plenty to see and hear and feel yet. Got a dinge in the side of his hat. Mat Dillon’s long ago. Let them sleep in their maggoty beds. John Henry Menton stared at him for an instant without moving. Carriage probably. cigars. They are not going to get me this innings. Mr Bloom said beside them. Pure fluke of mine: the bias. Mr Bloom said pointing. sir. laughing. They stopped.

drew behind a few paces so as not to overhear. Martin laying down the law. How grand we are this morning! ***** IN THE HEART OF THE HIBERNIAN METROPOLIS Before Nelson’s pillar trams slowed. he said shortly. Get the pull over him that way. John Henry Menton took off his hat. Mr Bloom. Be sorry after perhaps when it dawns on him. Martin could wind a sappyhead like that round his little finger. —It’s all right now. Thank you. started for Blackrock. shunted.Ulysses —There. without his seeing it. pointing also. —Thank you. Never mind. bulged out the dinge and smoothed the nap with care on his coatsleeve. 206 of 1305 . chapfallen. Kingstown and Dalkey. Martin Cunningham said. He clapped the hat on his head again. John Henry Menton jerked his head down in acknowledgment. changed trolley. They walked on towards the gates. Martin Cunningham helped. Oyster eyes.

Palmerston Park and upper Rathmines. Rathgar and Terenure. lettercards. glided parallel. Palmerston Park! THE WEARER OF THE CROWN Under the porch of the general post office shoeblacks called and polished. Sandymount Green! Right and left parallel clanging ringing a doubledecker and a singledeck moved from their railheads. Parked in North Prince’s street His Majesty’s vermilion mailcars. Sandymount Green. insured and paid. received loudly flung sacks of letters. for local. parcels. British 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. 207 of 1305 . postcards. The hoarse Dublin United Tramway Company’s timekeeper bawled them off: —Rathgar and Terenure! —Come on. provincial.Ulysses Clonskea. bearing on their sides the royal initials. E.. —Start. Ringsend and Sandymount Tower. Rathmines. Harold’s Cross. R. swerved to the down line.

Ulysses On the brewery float bumped dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of Prince’s stores. OF OAKLANDS. Mr Bloom said. We. Red Murray’s long shears sliced out the advertisement from the newspaper in four clean strokes. I’ll rub that in. —Just cut it out. Alexander Keyes. 208 of 1305 . —I’ll go through the printingworks. a king’s courier. WILLIAM BRAYDEN. a small felt hat crowning his ringlets. SANDYMOUNT Red Murray touched Mr Bloom’s arm with the shears and whispered: —Brayden. —Of course. Scissors and paste. —Right. a pen behind his ear. taking the cut square. ESQUIRE. we can do him one. and I’ll take it round to the Telegraph office. —There it is. Red Murray said. Mr Bloom said with a nod. The door of Ruttledge’s office creaked again. passed out with a roll of papers under his cape. minute in a large capecoat. Red Murray said earnestly. will you? Mr Bloom said. Davy Stephens. if he wants a par.

—Or like Mario. Fat folds of neck. —Don’t you think his face is like Our Saviour? Red Murray whispered. neck. Co-ome thou lost one. In Martha. doublet and spindle legs. It passed statelily up the staircase. Hand on his heart. Our Saviour: beardframed oval face: talking in the dusk. Way out. Red Murray agreed. —Yes. The broadcloth back ascended each step: back. Way in. Mary. All his brains are in the nape of his neck.Ulysses 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. a solemn beardframed face. Simon Dedalus says. fat. Dullthudding Guinness’s barrels. They always build one door opposite another for the wind to. But Mario was said to be the picture of Our Saviour. steered by an umbrella. The door of Ruttledge’s office whispered: ee: cree. Jesusmario with rougy cheeks. Welts of flesh behind on him. Martha. Mr Bloom said. neck. Co-ome thou dear one! 209 of 1305 . Steered by an umbrella sword to the footlights: Mario the tenor. fat.

boots vanish. along the now reverberating boards. as he passed in through a sidedoor and along the warm dark stairs and passage. he is one of our saviours also. They watched the knees. Neck.Ulysses THE CROZIER AND THE PEN —His grace phoned down twice this morning. Red Murray said gravely. WITH UNFEIGNED REGRET IT IS WE ANNOUNCE THE DISSOLUTION OF A MOST RESPECTED DUBLIN BURGESS 210 of 1305 . A meek smile accompanied him as he lifted the counterflap. Thumping. threw an envelope on the counter and stepped off posthaste with a word: —Freeman! Mr Bloom said slowly: —Well. But will he save the circulation? Thumping. legs. Through a lane of clanking drums he made his way towards Nannetti’s reading closet. He pushed in the glass swingdoor and entered. A telegram boy stepped in nimbly. stepping over strewn packing paper.

Uncle Toby’s page for tiny tots. Thumping. admiring a glossy crown. His machineries are pegging away too. Thump. got out of hand: fermenting. It’s the ads and side features sell a weekly. barony of Tinnahinch. Machines. This morning the remains of the late Mr Patrick Dignam. Rule the world today. Like these. Member for College green. Dear Mr Editor. Queen Anne is dead. He boomed that workaday worker tack for all it was worth. Published by authority in the year one thousand and. Smash a man to atoms if they got him caught. not the stale news in the official gazette. tearing away. HOW A GREAT DAILY ORGAN IS TURNED OUT Mr Bloom halted behind the foreman’s spare body. what is a 211 of 1305 . Strange he never saw his real country. Phil Blake’s weekly Pat and Bull story. And that old grey rat tearing to get in. Country bumpkin’s queries. To all whom it may concern schedule pursuant to statute showing return of number of mules and jennets exported from Ballina. Demesne situate in the townland of Rosenallis.Ulysses Hynes here too: account of the funeral probably. Ireland my country. Cartoons. Working away. Nature notes.

Monkeydoodle the whole thing. He handed the sheet silently over the dirty glass screen. A. thump. The personal note. Mainly all pictures. Mr Bloom stood in his way. M. print it over and over and up and back. —Did you? Hynes asked. Thump. Soon be calling him my lord mayor. More Irish than the Irish. pointing backward with his thumb. —Well. Now if he got paralysed there and no-one knew how to stop them they’d clank on and on the same. P. Cuprani too. they say. get it into the evening edition. World’s biggest balloon. —Right: thanks. printer. The foreman. Learn a lot teaching others. Hynes said. Hynes said moving off. Want a cool head. councillor. without answering.Ulysses good cure for flatulence? I’d like that part. scribbled press on a corner of the sheet and made a sign to a typesetter. Two bridegrooms laughing heartily at each other. 212 of 1305 . thump. Double marriage of sisters celebrated. The machines clanked in threefour time. Long John is backing him. he said. —If you want to draw the cashier is just going to lunch. Shapely bathers on golden strand.

old man. Hell of a racket they make. —Thanks.Ulysses —Mm. —But wait. Mr Bloom said. Look sharp and you’ll catch him. Keyes. councillor. Third hint. He wants two keys at the top. Hynes said. —Excuse me. Mr Bloom said. Three bob I lent him in Meagher’s. Maybe he understands what I. —He wants it in for July. Keyes. Three weeks. He doesn’t hear it. you see. he said. The foreman turned round to hear patiently and. The foreman moved his pencil towards it. I’ll tap him too. This ad. you remember? Mr Nannetti considered the cutting awhile and nodded. WE SEE THE CANVASSER AT WORK Mr Bloom laid his cutting on Mr Nannetti’s desk. you see. lifting an elbow. He hurried on eagerly towards the Freeman’s Journal. Mr Bloom said. 213 of 1305 . Iron nerves. Nannan. He wants it changed. began to scratch slowly in the armpit of his alpaca jacket.

214 of 1305 . glancing sideways up from the cross he had made. saw the foreman’s sallow face. tea. crossing his forefingers at the top. just what he wants. thousand and one things. Clank it. Clank it. see. Alexander Keyes. Two crossed keys here. Mr Bloom said. So on. HOUSE OF KEY(E)S —Like that. Miles of it unreeled. Better not teach him his own business. think he has a touch of jaundice. Then round the top in leaded: the house of keys. Slipping his words deftly into the pauses of the clanking he drew swiftly on the scarred woodwork. What becomes of it after? O. and beyond the obedient reels feeding in huge webs of paper. A circle. Then here the name. Mr Bloom. parcels: various uses. —You know yourself. You see? Do you think that’s a good idea? The foreman moved his scratching hand to his lower ribs and scratched there quietly.Ulysses —Like that. Let him take that in first. councillor. wrap up meat. wine and spirit merchant.

—We can do that. I’ll just run out and ask him. Better not. hearing the loud throbs of cranks. he said. It was in a Kilkenny paper. you can do that and just a little par calling attention. Innuendo of home rule. Highclass licensed premises. the Manx parliament. —We can do that. watching the silent typesetters at their cases. is the house of keys. A typesetter brought him a limp galleypage. But then if he didn’t know only make it awkward for him. So on. Mr Bloom stood by. You know the usual. ORTHOGRAPHICAL 215 of 1305 . He began to check it silently. you see. from the isle of Man. Mr Bloom said. Tourists. Catches the eye. the foreman said. Well. Let him give us a three months’ renewal. Can you do that? I could ask him perhaps about how to pronounce that voglio. He has a house there too. you know. Mr Bloom said. Longfelt want.Ulysses —The idea. councillor. You know. The foreman thought for an instant. Have you the design? —I can get it.

Sllt. Almost human the way it sllt to call attention. asking to be shut. Proof fever. Sllt. Looks as good as new now. isn’t it? Cemetery put in of course on account of the symmetry. I could have said. Martin Cunningham forgot to give us his spellingbee conundrum this morning. See his phiz then. NOTED CHURCHMAN AN OCCASIONAL CONTRIBUTOR The foreman handed back the galleypage suddenly. 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. Where’s the archbishop’s letter? It’s to be repeated in the Telegraph. I should have said when he clapped on his topper.Ulysses Want to be sure of his spelling. Doing its level best to speak. saying: —Wait. Everything speaks in its own way. Sllt. Silly. That door too sllt creaking. The nethermost deck of the first machine jogged forward its flyboard with sllt the first batch of quirefolded papers. Thank you. Where’s what’s his name? 216 of 1305 . I ought to have said something about an old hat or something. No.

Wife a good cook and washer. A DAYFATHER He walked on through the caseroom passing an old man. Mr Nannetti. Where’s Monks? —Monks! Mr Bloom took up his cutting.Ulysses He looked about him round his loud unanswering machines. sir. aproned. Time to get out. Try it anyhow. Three months’ renewal. Rub in August: good idea: horseshow month. Want to get some wind off my chest first. divorce suits. Old Monks. he said. —Monks! —Yes. speeches. Queer lot of stuff he must have put through his hands in his time: obituary notices. Sober serious man with a bit in the savingsbank I’d say. —Monks. Tourists over for the show. Nearing the end of his tether now. sir? a voice asked from the castingbox. pubs’ ads. and you’ll give it a good place I know. found drowned. —Then I’ll get the design. 217 of 1305 . spectacled. bowed. —Ay. Ballsbridge. the dayfather.

That’s what life is after all. Practice makes perfect. no damn nonsense. Reads it backwards first. Better 218 of 1305 . And then the lamb and the cat and the dog and the stick and the water and the butcher. mangiD kcirtaP. No. 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. Sounds a bit silly till you come to look into it well. Then the twelve brothers. Quickly he does it. that’s the other. Dear. Jacob’s sons. Seems to see with his fingers. reading backwards with his finger to me. AND IT WAS THE FEAST OF THE PASSOVER He stayed in his walk to watch a typesetter neatly distributing type. Justice it means but it’s everybody eating everyone else. And then the angel of death kills the butcher and he kills the ox and the dog kills the cat. Pessach. Poor papa with his hagadah book. Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu. Plain Jane. Next year in Jerusalem. Must require some practice that. How quickly he does that job.Ulysses Daughter working the machine in the parlour. O dear! All that long business about that brought us out of the land of Egypt and into the house of bondage Alleluia.

No. ERIN. Lose it out of that pocket. ONLY ONCE MORE THAT SOAP He went down the house staircase. GREEN GEM OF THE SILVER SEA 219 of 1305 . A sudden screech of laughter came from the Evening Telegraph office. Just to see: before: dressing. Putting back his handkerchief he took out the soap and stowed it away. Heavy greasy smell there always is in those works. into the hip pocket of his trousers. Twentyeight. the soap I put there. Twentyeight double four. Lukewarm glue in Thom’s next door when I was there. No. Know who that is. What perfume does your wife use? I could go home still: tram: something I forgot. Number? Yes. What’s up? Pop in a minute to phone. He took out his handkerchief to dab his nose.Ulysses phone him up first. Who the deuce scrawled all over those walls with matches? Looks as if they did it for a bet. Here. He entered softly. Same as Citron’s house. buttoned. Ned Lambert it is. Citronlemon? Ah.

staring from the empty fireplace at Ned Lambert’s quizzing face. O boys! O boys! —And Xenophon looked upon Marathon. professor MacHugh murmured softly. laughing. struck the newspaper on his knees. asked of it sourly: —Agonising Christ. read on: —Or again. ‘mid mossy banks. seated on the table. Ned Lambert. 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. repeating: —The pensive bosom and the overarsing leafage.Ulysses —The ghost walks. Simon? he asked over the fringe of his newspaper. Mr Dedalus said. How’s that for high? —Changing his drink. looking again on the fireplace and to the window. wouldn’t it give you a heartburn on your arse? Ned Lambert. What about that. 220 of 1305 . note the meanderings of some purling rill as it babbles on its way. biscuitfully to the dusty windowpane. Mr Dedalus. tho’ quarrelling with the stony obstacles. to the tumbling waters of Neptune’s blue domain. and Marathon looked on the sea. fanned by gentlest zephyrs. Mr Dedalus said.

Ulysses —That will do. Daresay he writes him an odd shaky cheque or two on gale days. hungered. Our lovely land. Bladderbags. made ready to nibble the biscuit in his other hand. a funeral does. —A recently discovered fragment of Cicero. make room for your uncle. The right honourable Hedges Eyre Chatterton. Alleluia. professor MacHugh cried from the window. He has influence they say. professor MacHugh answered with pomp of tone. I don’t want to hear any more of the stuff. He ate off the crescent of water biscuit he had been nibbling and. 221 of 1305 . Close on ninety they say. Johnny. High falutin stuff. Ned Lambert said. Old Chatterton. Rather upsets a man’s day. Windfall when he kicks out. Might go first himself. —What is it? Mr Bloom asked. SHORT BUT TO THE POINT —Whose land? Mr Bloom said simply. the vicechancellor. is his granduncle or his greatgranduncle. Living to spite them. Ned Lambert is taking a day off I see. —Just another spasm. Subleader for his death written this long time perhaps.

J. —Dan Dawson’s land Mr Dedalus said. poor chap. I wonder. —I beg yours. Come in. SAD Cleverest fellow at the junior bar he used to be. And yourself? J. Touch and go with him. What’s in the wind. J. —But listen to this. Dedalus? —Well. O’Molloy shook his head. With an accent on the whose. Ned Lambert nodded. —Is it his speech last night? Mr Bloom asked. Decline. The doorknob hit Mr Bloom in the small of the back as the door was pushed in. That hectic flush spells finis for a man. —Excuse me.Ulysses —Most pertinent question. —Come in. J. the professor said between his chews. 222 of 1305 . Money worry. —Good day. —Good day. he said. Jack. entering. O’Molloy said. he said. —How are you. Mr Bloom moved nimbly aside.

Hail fellow well met the next moment. To be seen and heard. Wellread fellow. O’Molloy asked. He’s in his sanctum with Lenehan. Practice dwindling. professor MacHugh said. Used to get good retainers from D. Gambling.. looking towards the inner door.Ulysses —Or again if we but climb the serried mountain peaks. —You’re looking extra. Ned Lambert pleaded. Reaping the whirlwind. listen to this for God’ sake. Debts of honour. One story good till you hear the next. Myles Crawford began on the Independent.. Their wigs to show the grey matter. —Ah. Weathercocks. O’Molloy strolled to the sloping desk and began to turn back the pink pages of the file. Hot and cold in the same breath. Or again if we but climb the serried mountain peaks . J. Losing heart. and T. —Is the editor to be seen? J. 223 of 1305 . A mighthavebeen. Believe he does some literary work for the Express with Gabriel Conroy. J. Brains on their sleeve like the statue in Glasnevin. Funny the way those newspaper men veer about when they get wind of a new opening. Wouldn’t know which to believe. —Very much so. J. Fitzgerald. Go for one another baldheaded in the papers and then all blows over.

Ned. Life is too short... to bathe our souls. Mr Dedalus said.... giving vent to a hopeless groan. of bosky grove and undulating plain and luscious pastureland of vernal green. despite their wellpraised prototypes in other vaunted prize regions. professor MacHugh said. —O! Mr Dedalus cried. HIS NATIVE DORIC —The moon. in the peerless panorama of Ireland’s portfolio. Blessed and eternal God! Yes? Is he taking anything for it? —As ‘twere.Ulysses —Bombast! the professor broke in testily. Enough of the inflated windbag! —Peaks. Ned Lambert went on. for very beauty. unmatched. —Bathe his lips.. towering high on high. as it were . —That mantles the vista far and wide and wait till the glowing orb of the moon shine forth to irradiate her silver effulgence . steeped in the transcendent translucent glow of our mild mysterious Irish twilight . 224 of 1305 . Shite and onions! That’ll do. He forgot Hamlet.

Get a grip of them by the stomach. WHAT WETHERUP SAID All very fine to jeer at it now in cold print but it goes down like hot cake that stuff. Entertainments. wasn’t he? Why they call him Doughy Daw. He was in the bakery line too. Open house. The bold blue eyes stared about them and the harsh voice asked: —What is it? 225 of 1305 . An instant after a hoarse bark of laughter burst over professor MacHugh’s unshaven blackspectacled face. Big blowout. Daughter engaged to that chap in the inland revenue office with the motor. chuckling with delight.Ulysses He took off his silk hat and. Ned Lambert tossed the newspaper aside. Hooked that nicely. The inner door was opened violently and a scarlet beaked face. Feathered his nest well anyhow. —Doughy Daw! he cried. blowing out impatiently his bushy moustache. crested by a comb of feathery hair. thrust itself in. welshcombed his hair with raking fingers. Wetherup always said that.

No drinks served before mass. you bloody old pedagogue! the editor said in recognition. —So it was. Ned. begad. putting on his hat. Myles? Ned Lambert asked with a reflective glance at his toecaps. We won every time! North Cork and Spanish officers! —Where was that.Ulysses —And here comes the sham squire himself! professor MacHugh said grandly. going out. Ned. —Will you join us. —Getonouthat. Come on. I must get a drink after that. The editor’s blue eyes roved towards Mr Bloom’s face. 226 of 1305 . shadowed by a smile. —Quite right too. —In Ohio! the editor shouted. Myles? Ned Lambert asked. MEMORABLE BATTLES RECALLED —North Cork militia! the editor cried. Ned Lambert agreed. —Come. —Drink! the editor cried. striding to the mantelpiece. Mr Dedalus said. Ned Lambert sidled down from the table. Mr Dedalus said.

he said. I just want to phone about an ad. —Ohio! the editor crowed in high treble from his uplifted scarlet face. Mr Bloom. —What about that leader this evening? professor MacHugh asked. My Ohio! —A perfect cretic! the professor said. 227 of 1305 . breaking off a piece. Jack. seeing the coast clear.Ulysses Passing out he whispered to J. short and long. Mr Crawford. Myles Crawford said more calmly. twanged it smartly between two and two of his resonant unwashed teeth. —Bingbang. He went in. made for the inner door. J. bangbang. —Just a moment. Hello. Long. Never you fret. That’s all right. coming to the editor and laying a firm hand on his shoulder. HARP EOLIAN! He took a reel of dental floss from his waistcoat pocket and. O. —That’ll be all right. O’Molloy: —Incipient jigs. Sad case.

SPOT THE WINNER Lenehan came out of the inner office with SPORT’S tissues. Madden up.. O’Molloy said. twenty . Yes. The tissues rustled up in the draught. Lenehan said. It was the big fellow shoved me. floated softly in the air blue scrawls and under the table came to earth. Is that Canada swindle case on today? The telephone whirred inside. —Who wants a dead cert for the Gold cup? he asked.. 228 of 1305 . —Twentyeight .. J... He tossed the tissues on to the table. Myles. No. letting the pages he held slip limply back on the file..Ulysses —Good day. Screams of newsboys barefoot in the hall rushed near and the door was flung open. sir. Double four . sir. 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. I hear feetstoops. —Hush. —It wasn’t me. Sceptre with O. J.

Evening Telegraph here. —Waiting for the racing special. the editor said. I’ll catch him.Ulysses —Throw him out and shut the door. —Him. It was Pat Farrell shoved me. There’s a hurricane blowing. Right..? Yes.. He pointed to two faces peering in round the doorframe. Mr Bloom phoned from the inner office. seeking: —Continued on page six. —Yes.. sir. sir. He hustled the boy out and banged the door to. sir.. professor MacHugh said gruffly. A COLLISION ENSUES 229 of 1305 ... To where? Aha! Which auction rooms ?. murmuring. Telegraph . Is the boss . J. Lenehan began to paw the tissues up from the floor. Aha! I see . column four. —Out of this with you. the newsboy said.. O’Molloy turned the files crackingly over. J.. grunting as he stooped twice.

Mr Bloom said. —My fault. They tell me he’s round there in Dillon’s. Mr Bloom said. O’Molloy slapped the heavy pages over. paused. clutching him for an instant and making a grimace. EXIT BLOOM —I’m just running round to Bachelor’s walk. Lenehan said. rubbing his knee: —The accumulation of the anno Domini. The noise of two shrill voices. Want to fix it up. —Knee. 230 of 1305 . J.Ulysses The bell whirred again as he rang off. —Pardon. —Sorry. Mr Bloom said. monsieur. He went to the door and. suffering his grip. echoed in the bare hallway from the newsboys squatted on the doorsteps: —We are the boys of Wexford Who fought with heart and hand. He made a comic face and whined. about this ad of Keyes’s. holding it ajar. Lenehan said. J. He came in quickly and bumped against Lenehan who was struggling up with the second tissue. a mouthorgan. Are you hurt? I’m in a hurry.

suddenly stretched forth an arm amply. A STREET CORTEGE Both smiled over the crossblind at the file of capering newsboys in Mr Bloom’s wake. —Look at the young guttersnipe behind him hue and cry. had propped his head on his hand. running to the window. and you’ll kick. —Back in no time. leaning against the mantelshelf.Ulysses He looked indecisively for a moment at their faces. Lenehan said. O’Molloy took the tissues from Lenehan’s hand and read them. hurrying out. blowing them apart gently. Look at the young scamps after him. The editor who. —Show. Steal upon larks. Small nines. J. staring through his blackrimmed spectacles over the crossblind. Mr Bloom said. the last zigzagging white on the breeze a mocking kite. without comment. my rib risible! Taking off his flat spaugs and the walk. 231 of 1305 . a tail of white bowknots. —Begone! he said. O. The world is before you. the professor said. J. Where? Lenehan cried. —He’ll get that advertisement.

O’Molloy said. They’re gone round to the Oval for a drink. Where are the other two gone? —Who? the professor said. but it is not always as it seems. They jingled then in the air and against the wood as he locked his desk drawer. Lenehan promptly struck a match for them and lit 232 of 1305 .Ulysses He began to mazurka in swift caricature across the floor on sliding feet past the fireplace to J. J. Who has the most matches? THE CALUMET OF PEACE He offered a cigarette to the professor and took one himself. Paddy Hooper is there with Jack Hall. turning. taking out a cigarettecase in murmuring meditation. professor MacHugh said in a low voice. J. —He’s pretty well on. —Seems to be. —Come on then. parting the vent of his jacket. Came over last night. jingling his keys in his back pocket. O’Molloy who placed the tissues in his receiving hands. Myles Crawford said. Where’s my hat? He walked jerkily into the office behind. J. —What’s that? Myles Crawford said with a start.

We haven’t got the chance of a snowball in hell. ‘Twas empire charmed thy heart. Myles Crawford blew his first puff violently towards the ceiling. a straw hat awry on his brow. he said. He took a cigarette from the open case. —That’s it. You and I are the fat in the fire. THE GRANDEUR THAT WAS ROME 233 of 1305 .Ulysses their cigarettes in turn. —Thanky vous. locking his long lips. The word reminds one somehow of fat in the fire. pointing sternly at professor MacHugh: —’Twas rank and fame that tempted thee. —Eh? You bloody old Roman empire? Myles Crawford said. We are the fat. He declaimed in song. said: —Silence for my brandnew riddle! —Imperium romanum. O’Molloy opened his case again and offered it. J. Lenehan. Lenehan said. It sounds nobler than British or Brixton. lighting it for him with quick grace. The editor came from the inner office. O’Molloy said gently. The professor grinned. J. J. helping himself. J.

. Our old ancient ancestors. imperative. J. by sounds of words. like the Englishman who follows in his footsteps. —They were nature’s gentlemen. I allow: but vile. professor MacHugh responded. He gazed about him in his toga and he said: It is meet to be here. The Jews in the wilderness and on the mountaintop said: It is meet to be here. J. —Do you know that story about chief baron Palles? J. Cloacae: sewers. as we read in the first chapter of Guinness’s. But we have also Roman law. raising two quiet claws. O’Molloy asked. brought to every new shore on which he set his foot (on our shore he never set it) only his cloacal obsession. professor MacHugh said. The Roman. Let us build an altar to Jehovah. Everything was going swimmingly . were partial to the running stream. Lenehan said. We mustn’t be led away by words. It was at the royal university dinner. J. imperial. Let us construct a watercloset. —Which they accordingly did do. —And Pontius Pilate is its prophet.. imperious. We think of Rome. pausing: —What was their civilisation? Vast.Ulysses —Wait a moment. O’Molloy murmured. He extended elocutionary arms from frayed stained shirtcuffs. 234 of 1305 .

??? Lenehan said to all: —Silence! What opera resembles a railwayline? Reflect.Ulysses —First my riddle. —Entrez. Bit torn off. —Mr Garrett Deasy. —That old pelters. Mr O’Madden Burke said melodiously. behind him. excogitate. reply. uncovered as he entered. —How do you do? the editor said. came in from the hallway. Stephen said. the editor said. Your governor is just gone. Are you ready? Mr O’Madden Burke. Come in. —I escort a suppliant. Youth led by Experience visits Notoriety. pointing to the title and signature. Stephen Dedalus. tall in copious grey of Donegal tweed. holding out a hand. ponder. Stephen handed over the typed sheets. mes enfants! Lenehan cried. —Who? the editor asked. Who tore it? Was he short taken? On swift sail flaming From storm and south 235 of 1305 . Lenehan said.

. The letter is not mine. Stephen answered blushing. Mouth to my mouth. Emperor’s horses. The bloodiest old tartar God ever made.? Bullockbefriending bard. she 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. pale vampire. the runaway wife of Menelaus. a grass one. his eye running down the typescript. —O. Stephen. Mr Garrett Deasy asked me to . Don’t you forget! Maximilian Karl O’Donnell. By Jesus. —Is he a widower? Stephen asked. graf von 236 of 1305 . I know him. Foot and mouth? Are you turned . —Ay.Ulysses He comes. Myles Crawford said. ten years the Greeks. Myles Crawford said. —Good day. An Irishman saved his life on the ramparts of Vienna.. Oho! A woman brought sin into the world. sir. SHINDY IN WELLKNOWN RESTAURANT —Good day.. and I knew his wife too. prince of Breffni. For Helen. O’Rourke. coming to peer over their shoulders. Habsburg. the professor said..

O yes.Ulysses Tirconnell in Ireland. Myles Crawford began. J. Material domination. Success for us is the death of the intellect and of the imagination. turning a horseshoe paperweight. the professor said. Professor MacHugh turned on him. Saving princes is a thank you job.. I speak the tongue of a race the acme of whose mentality is the maxim: time is money. We were never loyal to the successful. O’Molloy said quietly. LOST CAUSES NOBLE MARQUESS MENTIONED —We were always loyal to lost causes. every time. We serve them. Wild geese. —I’ll tell you how it was. A Hungarian it was one day .. Sent his heir over to make the king an Austrian fieldmarshal now. Going to be trouble there one day. Don’t you forget that! —The moot point is did he forget it. But the Greek! 237 of 1305 . I teach the blatant Latin language. J. —And if not? he said. Dominus! Lord! Where is the spirituality? Lord Jesus? Lord Salisbury? A sofa in a westend club.

Kyrios! Shining word! The vowels the Semite and the Saxon know not. not an imperium. the language of the mind. Loyal to a lost cause. that went under with the Athenian fleets at Aegospotami. —Boohoo! Lenehan wept with a little noise. yes. lengthened his long lips. made a last attempt to retrieve the fortunes of Greece. Poor. They went under. —They went forth to battle. Mr O’Madden Burke said greyly. Yes. Pyrrhus. poor. misled by an oracle. —The Greek! he said again. He strode away from them towards the window. Owing to a brick received in the latter half of the matinée. Kyrie! The radiance of the intellect. We are liege subjects of the catholic chivalry of Europe that foundered at Trafalgar and of the empire of the spirit.Ulysses KYRIE ELEISON! A smile of light brightened his darkrimmed eyes. I ought to profess Greek. but they always fell. Kyrie eleison! The closetmaker and the cloacamaker will never be lords of our spirit. poor Pyrrhus! He whispered then near Stephen’s ear: LENEHAN’S LIMERICK 238 of 1305 .

Mr O’Madden Burke fell back with grace on his umbrella. rising to tiptoe.Ulysses There’s a ponderous pundit MacHugh Who wears goggles of ebony hue. Lenehan extended his hands in protest. —Help! he sighed. feigning a gasp. fanned his face rapidly with the rustling tissues. That’ll be all right. Gee! He poked Mr O’Madden Burke mildly in the spleen. What opera is like a railwayline? —Opera? Mr O’Madden Burke’s sphinx face reriddled. he said. I feel a strong weakness. —But my riddle! he said. Whose mother is beastly dead. I’ll read the rest after. Myles Crawford crammed the sheets into a sidepocket. As he mostly sees double To wear them why trouble? I can’t see the Joe Miller. Lenehan announced gladly: —The Rose of Castile. 239 of 1305 . —That’ll be all right. Can you? In mourning for Sallust. Lenehan. See the wheeze? Rows of cast steel. Mulligan says.

O’Molloy said in quiet mockery. —The turf. —All the talents. —And Madam Bloom. 240 of 1305 . The gate was open. Lenehan gave a loud cough. Dublin’s prime favourite. OMNIUM GATHERUM —We were only thinking about it. J. returning by way of the files. the classics . —Ahem! he said very softly. swept his hand across Stephen’s and Mr O’Madden Burke’s loose ties.Ulysses The professor. past and present. O. J. the professor said. General Bobrikoff. Myles Crawford said. The gentle art of advertisement. The vocal muse. —Literature. Lenehan put in. Or was it you shot the lord lieutenant of Finland between you? You look as though you had done the deed. —Like fellows who had blown up the Bastile. You look like communards. Mr O’Madden Burke added. for a fresh of breath air! I caught a cold in the park.. he said. —Paris. —If Bloom were here. Stephen said. the press. Law..

In the lexicon of youth . Lazy idle little schemer. —We can all supply mental pabulum. he said. O’Molloy said. Myles Crawford repeated. J. All balls! Bulldosing the public! Give them something with a bite in it. J. See it in your eye. Great nationalist meeting in Borris-in-Ossory.Ulysses YOU CAN DO IT ! The editor laid a nervous hand on Stephen’s shoulder. Mr O’Madden Burke said. Put us all into it. Stephen raised his eyes to the bold unheeding stare. 241 of 1305 . We’ll paralyse Europe as Ignatius Gallaher used to say when he was on the shaughraun.. damn its soul. —Foot and mouth disease! the editor cried in scornful invective. clenching his hand in emphasis. Wait a minute. —He wants you for the pressgang. doing billiardmarking in the Clarence. You can do it.. Father. I see it in your face. See it in your face. Something with a bite in it. —I want you to write something for me. THE GREAT GALLAHER —You can do it. Son and Holy Ghost and Jakes M’Carthy.

—Gumley? he said. the editor said. I’ll show you. Stephen turned in surprise. down there at Butt bridge. Holohan told me. Whole route. That was a pen. Remember that time? Professor MacHugh nodded. is it? 242 of 1305 . Where Skin-the-Goat drove the car. You don’t say so? A friend of my father’s. Where it took place. minding stones for the corporation. Fitzharris.Ulysses Gallaher. see? —Skin-the-Goat. he said turning. murder in the Phoenix park. sixth of May. That was in eightyone. —Look at here. they say. or Kavanagh I mean. Tim Kelly. Joe Brady and the rest of them. You know Holohan? —Hop and carry one. excitedly pushing back his straw hat. That was the smartest piece of journalism ever known. A night watchman. I suppose. so he told me. Mr O’Madden Burke said. is it? Myles Crawford said. He has that cabman’s shelter. time of the invincibles. —New York World. before you were born. You know how he made his mark? I’ll tell you. —And poor Gumley is down there too. He pushed past them to the files. The New York World cabled for a special. that was a pressman for you.

An illstarched dicky jutted up and with a rude gesture he thrust it back into his waistcoat.. going. K is Knockmaroon gate. His finger leaped and struck point after point.. Yes .. the professor said. What did Ignatius Gallaher do? I’ll tell you.. The telephone whirred. Let Gumley mind the stones. let us say. vibrating. Who’s there? . Myles Crawford cried angrily. —T is viceregal lodge. 243 of 1305 . Have you got that? He flung back pages of the files and stuck his finger on a point.. —Take page four. Have you got that? Right. Have you Weekly Freeman of 17 March? Right. Hello?. —Hello? Evening Telegraph here . see they don’t run away. A DISTANT VOICE —I’ll answer it. —B is parkgate. C is where murder took place. Good. Inspiration of genius. Cabled right away. Yes .. Look at here. Yes.Ulysses —Never mind Gumley. The loose flesh of his neck shook like a cock’s wattles..... advertisement for Bransome’s coffee.

Ranelagh. —Bloom is at the telephone. the editor said promptly. —I saw it. Lenehan bowed to a shape of air. Got that? X is Davy’s publichouse in upper Leeson street. Out of an advertisement. That gave him the leg 244 of 1305 . the besthearted bloody Corkman the Lord ever put the breath of life in. announcing: —Madam. —Tell him go to hell. The professor came to the inner door. —Gave it to them on a hot plate. and myself. Inchicore. Nightmare from which you will never awake. There was weeping and gnashing of teeth over that. X is Davy’s publichouse. I was present. VERY —Clever.Ulysses —F to P is the route Skin-the-Goat drove the car for an alibi. And Able was I ere I saw Elba. Myles Crawford said. F. the editor said proudly. Roundtown. see? CLEVER. Windy Arbour.B. Very. he said. Palmerston Park. Dick Adams. I’m Adam.P. —History! Myles Crawford cried. Lenehan said.A. Gregor Grey made the design for it. The Old Woman of Prince’s street was there first. the whole bloody history.

That’s press. like 245 of 1305 . O’Molloy said eagerly.. —Hello? . he’s here still. Yes. Now he’s got in with Blumenfeld. That’s talent.Ulysses up. did you see that some hawkers were up before the recorder —O yes. —Where do you find a pressman like that now. Right outside the viceregal lodge. Mr O’Madden Burke said. J. —Talking about the invincibles. Then Paddy Hooper worked Tay Pay who took him on to the Star. And it turned out to be a commemoration postcard of Joe Brady or Number One or Skin-the-Goat. Myles Crawford said. like Whiteside. Are you there? . Professor MacHugh came from the inner office. he said. imagine! —They’re only in the hook and eye department.. —Very smart. He flung the pages down. Lenehan said to Mr O’Madden Burke. J. Pyatt! He was all their daddies! —The father of scare journalism. Psha! Press and the bar! Where have you a man now at the bar like those fellows.. Come across yourself. —Clamn dever. Lenehan confirmed. and the brother-in-law of Chris Callinan.. 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. eh? the editor cried.

mentreché il vento. entwining. Is the mouth south someway? Or the south a mouth? Must be some. approaching girls. shout. leadenfooted. gold of oriflamme. drouth. in russet. Psha! Only in the halfpenny place.Ulysses Isaac Butt. two by two. like silvertongued O’Hagan. di rimirar fe piu ardenti. Would anyone wish that mouth for her kiss? How do you know? Why did you write it then? RHYMES AND REASONS Mouth. si tace. bloody nonsense. … … … … … … … … la tua pace … … … … … … che parlar ti piace …. pout. He saw them three by three. Rhymes: two men dressed the same. quella pacifica oriafiamma. in green. South. out. in rose. south. in mauve. looking the same. Mr O’Madden Burke said. penitent. come fa. Eh? Ah. SUFFICIENT FOR THE DAY 246 of 1305 . per l’aer perso. —Speak up for yourself. in purple. But I old men. His mouth continued to twitch unspeaking in nervous curls of disdain. underdarkneath the night: mouth south: tomb womb.

LINKS WITH BYGONE DAYS OF YORE —Grattan and Flood wrote for this very paper. O’Molloy said.. —My dear Myles.Ulysses . you put a false construction on my words. took up the gage. Why bring in a master of forensic eloquence like Whiteside? Sufficient for the day is the newspaper thereof. and his American cousin of the Bowery guttersheet not to mention Paddy Kelly’s Budget. for example. 247 of 1305 . Who have you now like John Philpot Curran? Psha! —Well. Harmsworth of the farthing press. Bushe K. he said. I hold no brief. J. J. as at present advised. the editor cried in his face. flinging his cigarette aside. Why not bring in Henry Grattan and Flood and Demosthenes and Edmund Burke? Ignatius Gallaher we all know and his Chapelizod boss. J. Where are you now? Established 1763. O’Molloy. Irish volunteers.. Pue’s Occurrences and our watchful friend The Skibbereen Eagle. J. for the third profession qua profession but your Cork legs are running away with you.. Dr Lucas. smiling palely.C.

And he cited the Moses of Michelangelo in the vatican. MAGISTRA ARTIUM —He spoke on the law of evidence. the Childs murder case. J. J. 248 of 1305 . yes: Bushe. Or the other story.Ulysses —Bushe? the editor said. —He would have been on the bench long ago. Bushe defended him. ITALIA. Kendal Bushe or I mean Seymour Bushe. J.. beast with two backs? —What was that? the professor asked. yes. Well.. —Ha. J. only for . O’Molloy said. And in the porches of mine ear did pour. He has a strain of it in his blood. 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. the lex talionis. By the way how did he find that out? He died in his sleep. But no matter. of Roman justice as contrasted with the earlier Mosaic code. It was in that case of fratricide. the professor said.

O’Molloy took out his cigarettecase. Lenehan prefaced. J. Messenger took out his matchbox thoughtfully and lit his cigar. J. if aught that the imagination or the hand of sculptor has wrought in marble of soultransfigured and of soultransfiguring deserves to live. He took a cigarette from the case. moulding his words: —He said of it: that stony effigy in frozen music. I have often thought since on looking back over that strange time that it was that small act. Mr O’Madden Burke said. O’Molloy resumed. of the human form divine. that eternal symbol of wisdom and of prophecy which. trivial in itself.Ulysses —A few wellchosen words. His slim hand with a wave graced echo and fall. O’Molloy asked Stephen. J. —You like it? J. —Fine! Myles Crawford said at once. deserves to live. blushed. False lull. that determined the whole aftercourse of both our lives. J. 249 of 1305 . J. Silence! Pause. Something quite ordinary. horned and terrible. A POLISHED PERIOD J. —The divine afflatus. that striking of that match. Stephen. his blood wooed by grace of language and gesture. J.

Lenehan lit their cigarettes as before and took his trophy. Speaking about me. O’Molloy said to Stephen. —No. E. Let me say one thing. J.’s leg. waving the cigarettecase aside.Ulysses O’Molloy offered his case to Myles Crawford. saying: —Muchibus thankibus. A. the mastermystic? That Blavatsky woman started it. professor MacHugh said. 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. Mr Justice Fitzgibbon. E. the present lord justice of appeal. E. the opal hush poets: A. What do you think really of that hermetic crowd. What did he say? What did he say? What did he say about me? Don’t ask. Wait a moment. J. Magennis. thanks. A MAN OF HIGH MORALE —Professor Magennis was speaking to me about you. advocating the revival of the Irish tongue. Magennis thinks you must have been pulling A. The finest display of oratory I ever heard was a speech made by John F Taylor at the college historical society. She was a nice old bag of tricks. He is a man of the very highest morale. 250 of 1305 . had spoken and the paper under debate was an essay (new for those days).

That he had prepared his speech I do not believe for there was not even one shorthandwriter in the hall. rumour has it. J. 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. O’Molloy said. from a sickbed. therefore worthless. on the Trinity college estates commission. IMPROMPTU In ferial tone he addressed J. the professor said. in a child’s frock.Ulysses He turned towards Myles Crawford and said: —You know Gerald Fitzgibbon. —He is sitting with a sweet thing. We were weak. you must know. steadied them to a new focus. of a finished orator. Then you can imagine the style of his discourse. 251 of 1305 . —He is sitting with Tim Healy. with trembling thumb and ringfinger touching lightly the black rims. It was then a new movement. J. Myles Crawford said. eager to be on. O’Molloy: —Taylor had come there. mark you. He closed his long thin lips an instant but. Go on. Well? —It was the speech. J. raised an outspanned hand to his spectacles and.

He began: —Mr Chairman. Still seeking. He wore a loose white silk neckcloth and altogether he looked (though he was not) a dying man. Briefly. His eyes bethought themselves once more. as well as I can bring them to mind.Ulysses His dark lean face had a growth of shaggy beard round it. ladies and gentlemen: Great was my admiration in listening to the remarks addressed to the youth of Ireland a moment since by my learned friend. that I stood in ancient Egypt and that I was listening to the speech of some highpriest of that land addressed to the youthful Moses. he said: —When Fitzgibbon’s speech had ended John F Taylor rose to reply. his words were these. O’Molloy’s towards Stephen’s face and then bent at once to the ground. into an age remote from this age. seeking outlet. J. He raised his head firmly. seeking. their smokes ascending in frail stalks that flowered with his 252 of 1305 . His listeners held their cigarettes poised to hear. His unglazed linen collar appeared behind his bent head. It seemed to me that I had been transported into a country far away from this country. His gaze turned at once but slowly from J. soiled by his withering hair. Witless shellfish swam in the gross lenses to and fro.

curse you! That’s saint Augustine. laden with all manner merchandise furrow the waters of the known globe. You have no cities nor no wealth: our cities are hives of humanity and our galleys.Ulysses speech. cradle of bulrushes: a man supple in combat: stonehorned. an agelong history and a polity. effigy. And let our crooked smokes. stonebearded. —Why will you jews not accept our culture. trireme and quadrireme. a priesthood. our religion and our language? You are a tribe of nomad herdsmen: we are a mighty people. You have but emerged from primitive conditions: we have a literature. 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. heart of stone. 253 of 1305 . man. Noble words coming. Nile. I heard his words and their meaning was revealed to me. Look out. By the Nilebank the babemaries kneel. 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. Child. Ah.

Ulysses —You pray to a local and obscure idol: our temples. enjoying a silence. are the abodes of Isis and Osiris. of Horus and Ammon Ra. awe and humbleness: ours thunder and the seas. majestic and mysterious. ladies and gentlemen. graven in the language of the outlaw. He ceased and looked at them. OMINOUS—FOR HIM! J. Yours serfdom. Vagrants and daylabourers are you called: the world trembles at our name. had 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 bondage. 254 of 1305 . 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 law. had the youthful Moses listened to and accepted that view of life. Israel is weak and few are her children: Egypt is an host and terrible are her arms. J. nor followed the pillar of the cloud by day. A dumb belch of hunger cleft his speech. O’Molloy said not without regret: —And yet he died without having entered the land of promise. He lifted his voice above it boldly: —But.

methinks. ‘Tis the hour. Dead noise. As the next motion on the agenda paper may I suggest that the house do now adjourn? —You take my breath away. —Gentlemen. —That it be and hereby is resolutely resolved. Lenehan announced. I have money. The tribune’s words. All that are in favour say ay. And with a great future behind him.Ulysses —A sudden—at—the—moment—though—from— lingering—illness— often—previously—expectorated— demise. Hosts at Mullaghmast and Tara of the kings. A people sheltered within his voice. Love and laud him: me no more. howled and scattered to the four winds. is most grateful in Ye ancient hostelry. —That is oratory. Lenehan added. It is not perchance a French compliment? Mr O’Madden Burke asked. the professor said uncontradicted. Gone with the wind. metaphorically speaking. The troop of bare feet was heard rushing along the hallway and pattering up the staircase. Akasic records of all that ever anywhere wherever was. when the winejug. Miles of ears of porches. Stephen said. The contrary 255 of 1305 .

said quietly to Stephen: —I hope you will live to see it published. admonishing: —We will sternly refuse to partake of strong waters. J. My casting vote is: Mooney’s! He led the way. one moment. said with an ally’s lunge of his umbrella: —Lay on. Where are those blasted keys? He fumbled in his pocket pulling out the crushed typesheets. 256 of 1305 .. Mr O’Madden Burke. Let us go. By no manner of means.Ulysses no. Macduff! —Chip of the old block! the editor cried. That’ll be all right. Myles. I know. LET US HOPE J. will we not? Yes. He thrust the sheets back and went into the inner office. clapping Stephen on the shoulder. To which particular boosing shed? . we will not. following close. I declare it carried. O’Molloy.. Where are they? That’s all right. —Foot and mouth. That’ll go in. about to follow him in.

—Yes? the professor said.Ulysses He went into the inner office. Stephen said. Fuit Ilium! The sack of windy Troy. elderly and pious. The masters of the Mediterranean are fellaheen today. —Come along. closing the door behind him. Stephen. —I have a vision too. the professor said. have lived fifty and fiftythree years in Fumbally’s lane. Kingdoms of this world. skipping to get into step. That is fine. Stephen said. 257 of 1305 . They turned to the left along Abbey street. I have much. much to learn. Crawford will follow. —Two Dublin vestals. yelling: —Racing special! Dublin. —Where is that? the professor asked. —Off Blackpitts. The first newsboy came pattering down the stairs at their heels and rushed out into the street. yelling as he ran: —Racing special! DEAR DIRTY DUBLIN Dubliners. Stephen said. Another newsboy shot past them. isn’t it? It has the prophetic vision.

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. They save up three and tenpence in a red tin letterbox moneybox. —They want to see the views of Dublin from the top of Nelson’s pillar. Dare it.Ulysses Damp night reeking of hungry dough. Against the wall. darlint! On now. proprietress .. afraid of the 258 of 1305 .. They shake out the threepenny bits and sixpences and coax out the pennies with the blade of a knife. professor MacHugh said. Let there be life. encouraging each other. Frantic hearts. grunting. Akasic records. Two and three in silver and one and seven in coppers. 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 put on their bonnets and best clothes and take their umbrellas for fear it may come on to rain. Face glistering tallow under her fustian shawl. Quicker. —Wise virgins. They give two threepenny bits to the gentleman at the turnstile and begin to waddle slowly up the winding staircase.

peeping at the airslits. praising God and the Blessed Virgin. Hard after them Myles Crawford appeared on the steps. the professor said nodding twice. given her by a lady who got a bottleful from a passionist father. the professor cried. Glory be to God. threatening to come down. panting. —Come along. I see them. his hat aureoling his scarlet face. Their names are Anne Kearns and Florence MacCabe. A bevy of scampering newsboys rushed down the steps. Anne Kearns has the lumbago for which she rubs on Lourdes water. one asking the other have you the brawn. I can see them. he said. —Antithesis. scattering in all directions. yelling. J. They had no idea it was that high. Vestal virgins. He set off again to walk by Stephen’s side. RETURN OF BLOOM —Yes.Ulysses dark. their white papers fluttering. What’s keeping our friend? He turned. talking with J. 259 of 1305 . Florence MacCabe takes a crubeen and a bottle of double X for supper every Saturday. waving his arm. O’Molloy.

I can have access to it in the national library. And he wants it copied if it’s not too late I told councillor Nannetti from the Kilkenny People. A newsboy cried in Mr Bloom’s face: —Terrible tragedy in Rathmines! A child bit by a bellows! INTERVIEW WITH THE EDITOR —Just this ad.A. He’ll give a renewal for two months. falling back a pace. I spoke with Mr Keyes just now. 260 of 1305 . caught in a whirl of wild newsboys near the offices of the Irish Catholic and Dublin Penny Journal. After he’ll see. the Saturday pink. and taking the cutting from his pocket. puffing. called: —Mr Crawford! A moment! —Telegraph! Racing special! —What is it? Myles Crawford said. Mr Crawford? K. But he wants just a little puff. But he practically promised he’d give the renewal. It’s a play on the name.M. he says. What will I tell him.Ulysses Mr Bloom. House of keys. Mr Bloom said. pushing through towards the steps. breathless. But he wants a par to call attention in the Telegraph too. don’t you see? His name is Keyes.

I’m up to here.. Any time he likes.M. Jack. I was 261 of 1305 . I think. if I can get the design I suppose it’s worth a short par. raising his hand to his chin.I. Myles Crawford cried loudly over his shoulder. All off for a drink. Look out for squalls. Lenehan’s yachting cap on the cadge beyond. Been walking in muck somewhere. Tell him that straight from the stable. I’ve been through the hoop myself.R. While Mr Bloom stood weighing the point and about to smile he strode on jerkily. K. Arm in arm. Wonder is that young Dedalus the moving spirit. RAISING THE WIND —Nulla bona.Ulysses —Will you tell him he can kiss my arse? Myles Crawford said throwing out his arm for emphasis. Mr Bloom said. A bit nervy. Last time I saw him he had his heels on view. Usual blarney. Careless chap. Has a good pair of boots on him today. he said.. —He can kiss my royal Irish arse. What was he doing in Irishtown? —Well. tell him. his eyes returning. He’d give the ad.A. I’ll tell him .

They see the roofs and argue about where the different churches are: Rathmines’ blue dome. Adam and Eve’s.Ulysses looking for a fellow to back a bill for me no later than last week. —Something for you. They caught up on the others and walked abreast. what? —But they are afraid the pillar will fall. You must take the will for the deed. —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. Jack. With a heart and a half if I could raise the wind anyhow. Myles Crawford said. O’Molloy pulled a long face and walked on silently. Out for the waxies Dargle. J. J. Stephen went on.. SOME COLUMN!—THAT’S WHAT WADDLER ONE SAID —That’s new. Two old Dublin women on the top of Nelson’s pillar. saint Laurence O’Toole’s. Sorry. THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES 262 of 1305 . That’s copy.. the professor explained to Myles Crawford. But it makes them giddy to look so they pull up their skirts . Two old trickies.

I see what you mean. peering up at the statue of the onehandled adulterer. Myles Crawford said.Ulysses —Easy all. Lenehan and Mr O’Madden Burke. —Finished? Myles Crawford said. No poetic licence. —Onehandled adulterer! the professor cried. beckoned and led on across towards Mooney’s. So long as they do no worse. BELIEF —It gives them a crick in their necks. 263 of 1305 . turned. Stephen said. They put the bag of plums between them and eat the plums out of it. —And settle down on their striped petticoats. DAMES DONATE DUBLIN’S CITS SPEEDPILLS VELOCITOUS AEROLITHS. I like that. We’re in the archdiocese here. I see the idea. wiping off with their handkerchiefs the plumjuice that dribbles out of their mouths and spitting the plumstones slowly out between the railings. one after another. hearing. and they are too tired to look up or down or to speak. He gave a sudden loud young laugh as a close.

Donnybrook. cabs. private broughams. Penelope Rich.Ulysses SOPHIST WALLOPS HAUGHTY HELEN SQUARE ON PROBOSCIS. —You remind me of Antisthenes. HELLO THERE. the professor said. delivery waggons. Sandymount Green. CENTRAL! At various points along the eight lines tramcars with motionless trolleys stood in their tracks. a disciple of Gorgias. all still. Kingstown and Dalkey. ITHACANS VOW PEN IS CHAMP. Palmerston Park and Upper Rathmines. They made ready to cross O’Connell street. Blackrock. becalmed in short circuit. 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. 264 of 1305 . mailvans. It is said of him that none could tell if he were bitterer against others or against himself. the sophist. Rathfarnham. Hackney cars. Ringsend and Sandymount Tower. bound for or from Rathmines. SPARTANS GNASH MOLARS.

265 of 1305 . SOPHOMORE PLUMPS FOR OLD MAN MOSES.Ulysses aerated mineral water floats with rattling crates of bottles. —No. Where did they get the plums? VIRGILIAN. t —I see. I call it A Pisgah Sight of Palestine or the Parable of The Plums. J. the professor said. —Call it. Call it. WHAT?—AND LIKEWISE—WHERE? —But what do you call it? Myles Crawford asked. he said again with new pleasure. he added to J. the professor said. SAYS PEDAGOGUE. let me see. opening his long lips wide to reflect. horsedrawn. We gave him that idea. rolled. Call it: deus nobis haec otia fecit. He laughed richly. rapidly. Moses and the promised land. Stephen said. wait. O’Molloy. rattled. —I see.

—I see. the professor said. He halted on sir John Gray’s pavement island and peered aloft at Nelson through the meshes of his wry smile. —Tickled the old ones too. if the God Almighty’s truth was known. FLO WANGLES— YET CAN YOU BLAME THEM? —Onehandled adulterer. he said smiling grimly. Bad for their 266 of 1305 . ANNE WIMBLES.Ulysses HORATIO IS CYNOSURE THIS FAIR JUNE DAY J. Myles Crawford said. O’Molloy sent a weary sidelong glance towards the statue and held his peace. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a christian brother. Some school treat. I must say. ***** Pineapple rock. lemon platt. DIMINISHED DIGITS PROVE TOO TITILLATING FOR FRISKY FRUMPS. butter scotch. That tickles me. J.

Paying game. kidney burntoffering. Iron nails ran in. Save. Wake up in the dead of night and see him on the wall.M. watchful among the warm sweet fumes of Graham Lemon’s. Bloo . I could see the bluey silver over it. Where was that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix. Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the church in Zion is coming. If you leave a bit of codfish for instance.Ulysses tummies. Pepper’s ghost idea. reading. young man.C. druids’ altars. Torry and Alexander last year. God. Is coming! Is coming!! Is coming!!! All heartily welcome.. martyr. A sombre Y. placed a throwaway in a hand of Mr Bloom. Elijah is coming. Our Saviour. foundation of a building. war. 267 of 1305 .. Phosphorus it must be done with. Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty the King. Our. Blood of the Lamb. hymen. God wants blood victim. Are you saved? All are washed in the blood of the lamb. hanging. His wife will put the stopper on that. Polygamy. His slow feet walked him riverward. Birth.A. sacrifice. Heart to heart talks. Sitting on his throne sucking red jujubes white. Me? No.

Birth every year almost. Never pick it out of her. Home always breaks up when the mother goes. A housekeeper of one of those fellows if you could pick it out of her. Bring your own bread and butter. out of him. Lobbing about waiting for him. That’s in their theology or the priest won’t give the poor woman the confession. No families themselves to feed. Like getting l. Crossbuns. Fifteen children he had. I’d like to see them do the black fast Yom Kippur. Watching his water. The phosphorescence. From Butler’s monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor’s walk.s. Did you ever hear such an idea? Eat you out of house and home. One meal and a collation for fear he’d collapse on the altar. Very good for the brain. that bluey greeny.Ulysses Night I went down to the pantry in the kitchen. Before Rudy was born. Does himself well. His reverence: mum’s the word. Living on the fat of the land. Dedalus’ daughter there still outside Dillon’s auctionrooms. Increase and multiply. Knew her eyes at once from the father. 268 of 1305 . Don’t like all the smells in it waiting to rush out. No guests. All for number one. Their butteries and larders.d. What was it she wanted? The Malaga raisins. the absolution. Must be selling off some old furniture. Thinking of Spain.

Be interesting some day get a pass through Hancock to see the brewery. Also the day I threw 269 of 1305 . Vats of porter wonderful. England. Hhhhm. Well. wheeling between the gaunt quaywalls. Rough weather outside. Wait. It’s after they feel it. Not such damn fools. Rats get in too. floated under by the bridgepiers. that poor child’s dress is in flitters. Potatoes and marge.Ulysses Good Lord. Drink till they puke again like christians. The ball bobbed unheeded on the wake of swells. Proof of the pudding. Underfed she looks too. It’s the droll way he comes out with the things. Undermines the constitution. Imagine drinking that! Rats: vats. Regular world in itself. They wheeled lower. Sea air sours it. Looking for grub. One and eightpence too much. He threw down among them a crumpled paper ball. Brewery barge with export stout. As he set foot on O’Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from the parapet. marge and potatoes. Drink themselves bloated as big as a collie floating. of course. Elijah thirtytwo feet per sec is com. If I threw myself down? Reuben J’s son must have swallowed a good bellyful of that sewage. if we knew all the things. Looking down he saw flapping strongly. Knows how to tell a story too. gulls. Not a bit. I heard. Dead drunk on the porter.

Shiny peels: polishes them up with a rag or a handkerchief. Those poor birds. Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here 270 of 1305 . Australians they must be this time of year. Live by their wits. then all from their heights. Wait.Ulysses that stale cake out of the Erin’s King picked it up in the wake fifty yards astern. Every morsel. But then Shakespeare has no rhymes: blank verse. Manna. The flow of the language it is. the similar sounds. The hungry famished gull Flaps o’er the waters dull. two. gulls. fishy flesh they have. Hamlet. 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. They wheeled. Gone. seagoose. —Two apples a penny! Two for a penny! His gaze passed over the glazed apples serried on her stand. The thoughts. pouncing on prey. flapping. See that? The gulls swooped silently. That is how poets write. I am thy father’s spirit Doomed for a certain time to walk the earth. Live on fish. They never expected that. all seabirds. Aware of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his hands. Solemn.

How can you own water really? It’s always flowing in a stream. If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes like that. Penny quite enough. Because life is a stream. Dr Hy Franks. Never see it now. Lot of thanks I get. Not even a caw. Got fellows to stick them up or stick them up himself for that matter on the q. I’m not going to throw any more. No accounting for tastes.Ulysses sometimes to preen themselves. 271 of 1305 . which in the stream of life we trace. Wonder if he pays rent to the corporation. All kinds of places are good for ads. Strictly confidential. That quack doctor for the clap used to be stuck up in all the greenhouses. running in to loosen a button.Trousers Good idea that. Didn’t cost him a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement. Kino’s 11/. never the same. Wonder what kind is swanmeat. 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. Robinson Crusoe had to live on them. They wheeled flapping weakly. They spread foot and mouth disease too. t.

I don’t believe it. O rocks! Mr Bloom smiled O rocks at two windows of the ballastoffice. POST 110 PILLS. Appetite like an albatross. Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone.. Only big words for ordinary things on account of the sound.. Now. Fascinating little book that is of sir Robert Ball’s. Mr Bloom moved forward. Still. isn’t that wit. raising his troubled eyes. There’s a priest.Ulysses Flybynight. POST NO BILLS. no. Blurt out what I was thinking. I never exactly understood. I don’t know. Dunsink time. No. She’s right after all.. If he . She’s not exactly witty. Think no more about that. He wouldn’t surely? No.? O! Eh? No . Just the place too. Par it’s Greek: parallel. Some chap with a dose burning him. No.. no. Get outside of a 272 of 1305 . She used to say Ben Dollard had a base barreltone voice. Timeball on the ballastoffice is down. After one. They used to call him big Ben. Met him pike hoses she called it till I told her about the transmigration. Can be rude too. parallax. Parallax. Could ask him. He has legs like barrels and you’d think he was singing into a barrel.

street after street. Curiosity. I suggested to him about a transparent showcart with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters. Just keep skin and bone together. You can’t lick ‘em. walking along the gutters. Y. Doesn’t bring in any business either. They are not Boyl: no.Ulysses baron of beef. Like that priest they are this morning: we have sinned: we have suffered. envelopes. M Glade’s men. scarlet sashes across their boards. S. Three bob a day. Barrel of Bass. Wisdom Hely’s. He read the scarlet letters on their five tall white hats: H. Women too. Y lagging behind drew a chunk of bread from under his foreboard. cold meat department. bread and skilly. Everyone dying to know what she’s writing. Bargains. Get twenty of them round you if you stare at nothing. 273 of 1305 . crammed it into his mouth and munched as he walked. I bet that would have caught on. L. His ideas for ads like Plumtree’s potted under the obituaries. copybooks. See? It all works out. Powerful man he was at stowing away number one Bass. Wouldn’t have it of course because he didn’t think of it himself first. Pillar of salt. Smart girls writing something catch the eye at once. A procession of whitesmocked sandwichmen marched slowly towards him along the gutter. blottingpaper. Or the inkbottle I suggested with a false stain of black celluloid. Our staple food. Have a finger in the pie. E.

It was a nun they say invented barbed wire. That was a nice nun there. I am hastening to purchase the only reliable inkeraser Kansell. Got the job in Wisdom Hely’s year we married. Wait: was in Thom’s. He crossed Westmoreland street when apostrophe S had plodded by. Wimple suited her small head. My heart’s broke eating dripping. Robinson. No lard for them. Sister? Pat Claffey. the pawnbroker’s daughter. Ten 274 of 1305 . Six years. We were in Lombard street west.Ulysses What? Our envelopes. sold by Hely’s Ltd. Tranquilla convent. Very hard to bargain with that sort of a woman. 85 Dame street. where are you going? Can’t stop. Hello. Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Our great day. She knew I. How long ago is that? Year Phil Gilligan died. really sweet face. I suppose they really were short of money. They like buttering themselves in and out. If she had married she would have changed. Those races are on today. Well out of that ruck I am. I disturbed her at her devotions that morning. Rover cycleshop. Fried everything in the best butter all the same. Sister? Sister? I am sure she was crossed in love by her eyes. But glad to communicate with the outside world. I think she knew by the way she. Sweet name too: caramel. she said. Devil of a job it was collecting accounts of those convents. Molly tasting it. Jones. her veil up.

Ulysses years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that’s right the big fire at Arnott’s. Dockrell’s. Never put a dress on her back like it. The Glencree dinner. Old Goodwin’s tall hat done up with some sticky stuff. Flies’ picnic too. Happier then. Shapely too. For what we have already received may the Lord make us. Cosy smell of her bathwater. Molly had that elephantgrey dress with the braided frogs. Funny she looked soaped all over. Now photography. Happy. Fitted her like a glove. one and ninepence a dozen. Milly’s tubbing night. shoulders and hips. Poor papa’s daguerreotype atelier he told me of. Rabbitpie we had that day. American soap I bought: elderflower. Mantailored with selfcovered buttons. Snug little room that was with the red wallpaper. He walked along the curbstone. Bobbob lapping it for the inner alderman. 275 of 1305 . Val Dillon was lord mayor. Alderman Robert O’Reilly emptying the port into his soup before the flag fell. She didn’t like it because I sprained my ankle first day she wore choir picnic at the Sugarloaf. As if that. Hereditary taste. Just beginning to plump it out well. Milly was a kiddy then. Couldn’t hear what the band played. People looking after her.

woman. just coming out then. 276 of 1305 . Remember her laughing at the wind. Stopped in Citron’s saint Kevin’s parade. Thing like that spoils the effect of a night for her.. She did get flushed in the wind..Ulysses Stream of life. What was the name of that priestylooking chap was always squinting in when he passed? Weak eyes. Well. Lucky it didn’t. Brrfoo! Blew up all her skirts and her boa nearly smothered old Goodwin. His farewell concerts. poor old sot. Pendennis? My memory is getting.? Of course it’s years ago. Corner of Harcourt road remember that gust. if he couldn’t remember the dayfather’s name that he sees every day. Conceited fellow with his waxedup moustache. May be for months and may be for never. Seeing her home after practice. Professor Goodwin linking her in front. Sheet of her music blew out of my hand against the High school railings. 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. Bartell d’Arcy was the tenor. Positively last appearance on any stage. her blizzard collar up. Shaky on his pins. Pen something. He and I behind. Gave her that song Winds that blow from the south. Noise of the trams probably. Pen .

Happy. Swish and soft flop her stays made on the bed. Milly tucked up in beddyhouse.Ulysses 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. Milly has a position down in Mullingar. 277 of 1305 . How many has she? No other in sight. Mr Bloom.. —In the pink.. you know. —You’re in black. —Go away! Isn’t that grand for her? —Yes. You have no . And the mulled rum. how do you do? —O. I have just come from a funeral. How are all your charges? —All on the baker’s list.. Getting on like a house on fire. Mrs Breen said.. Mr Bloom said. I see. Always warm from her. Mr Bloom said gaily. how do you do. Could see her in the bedroom from the hearth unclamping the busk of her stays: white. How is Molly those times? Haven’t seen her for ages. —No. Sitting there after till near two taking out her hairpins. Always liked to let her self out. Mrs Breen? —No use complaining. That was the night . Happy. —O. In a photographer’s there.

poor fellow. I hope it wasn’t any near relation. Heart trouble. He died quite suddenly. Now that’s quite enough about that. Funeral was this morning. Diddlediddle dumdum Diddlediddle . I foresee. May as well get her sympathy. 278 of 1305 . when and what did he die of? Turn up like a bad penny. Who’s dead. Mr Bloom said. —Dignam. Wait till I show you. An old friend of mine. don’t be talking! she said. dear me. —O. He has me heartscalded. Just: quietly: husband. He’s a caution to rattlesnakes. —And your lord and master? Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. I believe. Your funeral’s tomorrow While you’re coming through the rye. —Sad to lose the old friends.. Mrs Breen’s womaneyes said melancholily. Hasn’t lost them anyhow. He’s in there now with his lawbooks finding out the law of libel. —O.Ulysses Going to crop up all day. Mrs Breen said..

Want to make good pastry. Pastille that was fell. breathing in the fumes. Do you know what he did last night? Her hand ceased to rummage. Or is it from her? A barefoot arab stood over the grating. Rummaging. The heavy noonreek tickled the top of Mr Bloom’s gullet. 279 of 1305 . she said. Opening her handbag. Knife and fork chained to the table. I believe you. Deaden the gnaw of hunger that way. Where’s the ten shillings I gave you on Monday? Are you feeding your little brother’s family? Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle.. He’s always bad then. Trust me. Husband barging. Raise Cain.. Her eyes fixed themselves on him. or they’d taste it with the hot tea. yet smiling. Let her speak. Devils if they lose sixpence. What is she? . Demerara sugar. Please take one. —There must be a new moon out. Look straight in her eyes. best flour. chipped leather. Money. Hatpin: ought to have a guard on those things. Pleasure or pain is it? Penny dinner. butter. —What? Mr Bloom asked.Ulysses Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured out from Harrison’s. Open. Stick it in a chap’s eye in the tram. wide in alarm.

She took a folded postcard from her handbag. Seen its best days. He’s going to take an action for ten thousand pounds. sighing. he says. She folded the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch.: up. Lines round her mouth. Wispish hair over her ears.? —U. she said. Someone taking a rise out of him. Only a year or so older than Molly. taking the card. —And now he’s going round to Mr Menton’s office. —Said the ace of spades was walking up the stairs.P. Dream he had. —The ace of spades! Mr Bloom said. —Indeed it is. —Read that. she said. She took back the card.Ulysses —Woke me up in the night. 280 of 1305 . a nightmare. Same blue serge dress she had two years ago. Mr Bloom said. She used to be a tasty dresser. It’s a great shame for them whoever he is. He got it this morning. And that dowdy toque: three old grapes to take the harm out of it. —What is it? Mr Bloom asked. the nap bleaching. U. she said. Indiges.P. Shabby genteel.

It’s a very stiff birth. the nurse told me. Playgoers’ Club. The last act. —I just called to ask on the way in is she over it. Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings.: up. rich fruit interior. Pungent mockturtle oxtail mulligatawny.Ulysses See the eye that woman gave her. passing. He looked still at her. —Mina Purefoy? she said. Josie Powell that was. Matcham often thinks of the masterstroke. Mr Bloom said. I’m hungry too. Dolphin’s Barn. 281 of 1305 . In Luke Doyle’s long ago. She’s in the lying-in hospital in Holles street. Mrs Breen said. —Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy? Mr Bloom asked. Cruel. Mr Bloom said. holding back behind his look his discontent. Did I pull the chain? Yes.P. Dr Horne got her in. the charades. I’m sorry to hear that. —-O. —Yes. Flakes of pastry on the gusset of her dress: daub of sugary flour stuck to her cheek. The unfair sex. —Yes. U. And a houseful of kids at home. Philip Beaufoy I was thinking. Change the subject. She’s three days bad now. —O.

He always walks outside the lampposts. Goodbye.. From his arm a folded dustcoat. she said. Mr Bloom touched her funnybone gently. Tight as a skullpiece a tiny hat gripped his head. Mr Bloom said smiling. His tongue clacked in compassion. a stick and an umbrella dangled to his stride. won’t you? 282 of 1305 . —She was taken bad on the Tuesday . —Watch him. She broke off suddenly. Poor thing! Three days! That’s terrible for her. A bony form strode along the curbstone from the river staring with a rapt gaze into the sunlight through a heavystringed glass. I must go after him. Watch! —He has enough of them. she said. Denis will be like that one of these days. Is he dotty? —His name is Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell. Mr Bloom said.Ulysses His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. Dth! Dth! —I’m sorry to hear that.. Remember me to Molly. Mrs Breen nodded. —There he is. he said. warning her: —Mind! Let this man pass. Watch! —Who is he if it’s a fair question? Mrs Breen asked.

Code. His oyster eyes staring at the postcard. One way of getting on in the world. Meshuggah. Watch him! Out he goes again. Denis Breen in skimpy frockcoat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of Harrison’s hugging two heavy tomes to his ribs. Mr Bloom said. Round to Menton’s office. Blown in from the bay. Be a feast for the gods. Mr Bloom walked on again easily. Like old times. He passed the Irish Times. seeing ahead of him in sunlight the tight skullpiece. Wrote it for a lark in the Scotch house I bet anything.: up. Like to answer them all. There might be other answers Iying there. He watched her dodge through passers towards the shopfronts. the dangling stickumbrelladustcoat. O. Off his chump. his loose jaw wagging as he spoke earnestly. Clerk with the glasses there doesn’t know me. I’ll take my oath that’s Alf Bergan or Richie Goulding. leave them there to simmer. Hard time she must have with him. And that other old mosey lunatic in those duds. He suffered her to overtake him without surprise and thrust his dull grey beard towards her. At their lunch now.P. U. Going the two days. Good system for criminals. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of 283 of 1305 .Ulysses —I will.

exc. Our gracious and popular vicereine. No sidesaddle or pillion 284 of 1305 . Wanted live man for spirit counter. Made a big deal on Coates’s shares. All the toady news. Please tell me what is the meaning. Cook and general. Bought the Irish Field now. smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work. Sit her horse like a man. cuisine. E. Tell me who made the world. Uneatable fox.Ulysses them. Got the provinces now. Riding astride. James Carlisle made that. My literary efforts have had the good fortune to meet with the approval of the eminent poet A. Wanted. Ca’ canny. (Mr Geo. No time to do her hair drinking sloppy tea with a book of poetry. Resp. Fear injects juices make it tender enough for them. Six and a half per cent dividend.) wishes to hear of post in fruit or pork shop. Pothunters too. I called you naughty darling because I do not like that other world. girl (R. And the other one Lizzie Twigg.C. Please tell me what perfume does your wife. Cunning old Scotch hunks. Lady Mountcashel has quite recovered after her confinement and rode out with the Ward Union staghounds at the enlargement yesterday at Rathoath. The way they spring those questions on you. housemaid kept. Weightcarrying huntress. Best paper by long chalks for a small ad. Russell).

High tea. As if I was her clotheshorse. Y. Scavenging what the quality left. thanks. Saffron bun and milk and soda lunch in the educational dairy. Didn’t take a feather out of her my handling them. Theodore’s cousin in Dublin Castle. Born courtesan. First to the meet and in at the death. Poor Mrs Purefoy! Methodist husband. A. Swagger around livery stables. Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it. Hardy annuals he presents her with. Toss off a glass of brandy neat while you’d say knife. And still his muttonchop whiskers grew. One tony relative in every family. Think that pugnosed driver did it out of spite. Saw him 285 of 1305 . not for Joe. That one at the Grosvenor this morning. Up with her on the car: wishswish. Saw her in the viceregal party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in with Whelan of the Express. Who is this she was like? O yes! Mrs Miriam Dandrade that sold me her old wraps and black underclothes in the Shelbourne hotel.Ulysses for her. Her ears ought to have tingled for a few weeks after. M. No nursery work for her. Mayonnaise I poured on the plums thinking it was custard. Want to be a bull for her. Method in his madness. C. Eating with a stopwatch. Supposed to be well connected. Strong as a brood mare some of those horsey women. Divorced Spanish American. thirtytwo chews to the minute.

On my way. Time someone thought about it instead of gassing about the what was it the pensive bosom of the silver effulgence. Dth. Doubled up inside her trying to butt its way out blindly. Only one lump of sugar in my tea. Nine she had. Selfish those t. An eightpenny in the Burton.Ulysses out at the Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his eldest boy carrying one in a marketnet. He walked on past Bolton’s Westmoreland house. Lucky Molly got over hers lightly. He stood at Fleet street crossing. dth! Three days imagine groaning on a bed with a vinegared handkerchief round her forehead. Sss.t’s are. Tea. her belly swollen out. They could easily have big 286 of 1305 . Dog in the manger. I forgot to tap Tom Kernan. dth. if you please. Poor thing! Then having to give the breast year after year all hours of the night. The squallers. They ought to invent something to stop that. Tea. Phew! Dreadful simply! Child’s head too big: forceps. Tea. Old woman that lived in a shoe she had so many children. A good layer. Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria was given that. groping for the way out. Better. Life with hard labour. Flapdoodle to feed fools on. Luncheon interval. A sixpenny at Rowe’s? Must look up that ad in the national library. Kill me that would. Suppose he was consumptive.

Snuffy Dr Murren. then returns. How flat they look all of a sudden after. Funny sight two of them together. To attendance on your wife. she said. His first bow to the public. The spoon of pap in her mouth before she fed them. O. Their little frolic after 287 of 1305 . Humane doctors. Peaceful eyes. that’s nyumnyum.Ulysses 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. Old Mrs Thornton was a jolly old soul. Before the huge high door of the Irish house of parliament a flock of pigeons flew. They are not even registered. Not stillborn of course. Then keep them waiting months for their fee. All my babies. their bellies out. Trouble for nothing. Phthisis retires for the time being. most of them. Weight off their mind. For God’ sake. Mothers’ meeting. Head like a prize pumpkin. No gratitude in people. Got her hand crushed by old Tom Wall’s son. Molly and Mrs Moisel. doctor. Wife in her throes. People knocking them up at all hours.

Mackerel they called me. Best moment to attack one in pudding time.Ulysses meals. Prepare to receive cavalry. patting their truncheons. A squad of constables debouched from College street. marching in Indian file. towards their beats. If a 288 of 1305 . Here’s good luck. They did right to put him up over a urinal: meeting of the waters. He crossed under Tommy Moore’s roguish finger. saluting. Jack Power could a tale unfold: father a G man. Foodheated faces. Let out to graze. Bound for their troughs. Kept her voice up to the very last. After their feed with a good load of fat soup under their belts. Must be thrilling from the air. A punch in his dinner. Who will we do it on? I pick the fellow in black. Policeman’s lot is oft a happy one. Ought to be places for women. marching irregularly. Great song of Julia Morkan’s. Goosestep. Prepare to receive soup. Apjohn. Pupil of Michael Balfe’s. Running into cakeshops. wasn’t she? He gazed after the last broad tunic. A squad of others. There is not in this wide world a vallee. Here goes. Settle my hat straight. sweating helmets. myself and Owen Goldberg up in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys. rounded Trinity railings making for the station. They split up in groups and scattered. Nasty customers to tackle.

Wheels within wheels. Few years’ time half of them magistrates and civil servants. Vinegar hill.Ulysses fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him have it hot and heavy in the bridewell. I oughtn’t to have got myself swept along with those medicals. He did come a wallop. War comes on: 289 of 1305 . My word he did! His horse’s hoofs clattering after us down Abbey street. Looking for trouble. —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. 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. The Butter exchange band. Can’t blame them after all with the job they have especially the young hornies. Give me in charge. by George. All skedaddled. Must have cracked his skull on the cobblestones. Lucky I had the presence of mind to dive into Manning’s or I was souped. Why he fixed on me. And the Trinity jibs in their mortarboards. Right here it began. Police whistle in my ears still. That horsepoliceman the day Joe Chamberlain was given his degree in Trinity he got a run for his money.

Tobaccoshopgirls. Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on the invincibles. gelong with your great times coming.Ulysses into the army helterskelter: same fellows used to. —There are great times coming. Corny Kelleher he has Harvey Duff in his eye. —Ah. He knew them. Egging raw youths on to get in the know all the time drawing secret service pay from the castle. Member of the corporation too. Drop him like a hot potato. Hotblooded young student fooling round her fat arms ironing.. Never know who you’re talking to. And who is the gentleman does be visiting there? Was the young master saying anything? Peeping Tom through the keyhole. Wait till you see. Decoy duck. Mary? —I don’t wear such things . James Stephens’ idea was the best. Stop or I’ll tell the missus on you. Out half the night. Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys. Maul her a bit. Squarepushing up against a backdoor. —Are those yours. Whether on the scaffold high.. Then the next thing on the menu. Barmaids too. Mary. Easily twig a man used to uniform. Circles of ten so that a fellow couldn’t round on more 290 of 1305 .

Debating societies. You must have a certain fascination: Parnell. shadowing Trinity’s surly front. off from Lusk. Have another quart of goosegrease before it gets too cold. Gammon and spinach. Turnkey’s daughter got him out of Richmond. The not far distant day. Putting up in the Buckingham Palace hotel under their very noses.Ulysses than his own ring. meaning peaches. Or gas about our lovely land. Sinn Fein. Michaelmas goose. Penny roll and a walk with the band. Stuff them up with meat and drink. Have your daughters inveigling them to your house. Halffed enthusiasts. Hidden hand. Back out you get the knife. Stay in. Show us over those apricots. Homerule sun rising up in the northwest. Garibaldi. Here’s a good lump of thyme seasoning under the apron for you. No grace for the carver. The thought that the other chap pays best sauce in the world. Arthur Griffith is a squareheaded fellow but he has no go in him for the mob. a heavy cloud hiding the sun slowly. Dublin Bakery Company’s tearoom. That the language question should take precedence of the economic question. That republicanism is the best form of government. His smile faded as he walked. Trams passed 291 of 1305 . The firing squad. Make themselves thoroughly at home.

Since I fed the birds five minutes. They buy the place up with gold and still they have all the gold. Changing hands. Cityful passing away. Pyramids in sand. passing on. piledup bricks. Three hundred kicked the bucket. all are washed in the blood of the lamb. One born every second somewhere. clanging. Landlord never dies they say. streets. Houses. stones. Other three hundred born. Things go on same. This owner. No-one is anything. Other steps into his shoes when he gets his notice to quit. Other dying every second. Round towers. bawling maaaaaa. passing away too: other coming on. ingoing. jerrybuilt. out. washing the blood off. Built on bread and onions. Those two loonies mooching about. Big stones left. lines of houses. back: trams in. outgoing. other cityful coming. 292 of 1305 . Dignam carted off. day after day: squads of police marching out. miles of pavements. Kerwan’s mushroom houses built of breeze. Babylon. Mina Purefoy swollen belly on a bed groaning to have a child tugged out of her. sprawling suburbs. worn away age after age. Rest rubble. Slaves Chinese wall. Swindle in it somewhere.Ulysses one another. Useless words. Shelter. for the night. Piled up in cities. that.

Now that’s a coincidence. Like a man walking in his sleep.C. puffed. probably for his coffee. Look at the woebegone walk of him. Provost’s house. Image of him. They say he never put on the city marshal’s uniform since he got the job. Freeze them up with that eye of his. play chess there. Great man’s brother: his brother’s brother. Charley Kavanagh used to come out on his high horse. gloomy: hate this hour. cocked hat. powdered and shaved. He’d look nice on the city charger. Course hundreds of times you think of a person and don’t meet him. unseeing.Ulysses This is the very worst hour of the day. There he is: the brother. I have a pain. Drop into the D. Let them all go to pot. That’s the 293 of 1305 . Vitality.B. Eaten a bad egg. Feel as if I had been eaten and spewed. Nature abhors a vacuum. Must be a corporation meeting today. His brother used men as pawns. Afraid to pass a remark on him. Dull. Wouldn’t live in it if they paid me. Well tinned in there. The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Haunting face. Poached eyes on ghost. 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. No-one knows him. Like a mortuary chapel. Hope they have liver and bacon today.

—Of the twoheaded octopus. Now that’s really a coincidence: second time. Tentacles: octopus. All a bit touched. That might be Lizzie Twigg with him. 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. Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire.Ulysses fascination: the name. E. Still David Sheehy beat him for south Meath. Arthur Edmund. Russell. And there he is too. Mad Fanny and his other sister Mrs Dickinson driving about with scarlet harness.. What was he saying? The ends of the world with a Scotch accent. A. The tentacles . Apply for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life.. Bolt upright lik surgeon M’Ardle. Albert Edward. 294 of 1305 . Young woman. one 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. Eating orangepeels in the park. Mr Geo. Beard and bicycle. They passed from behind Mr Bloom along the curbstone. Something occult: symbolism.: what does that mean? Initials perhaps. Coming events cast their shadows before. With the approval of the eminent poet. The patriot’s banquet.

Coming from the vegetarian. 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. Not saying a word. I detest that: so tasteless. If you do the eyes of that cow will pursue you through all eternity. Esthetes they are. To give you the idea you are eating rumpsteak.Ulysses Holding forth. Salty too. symbolistic. Windandwatery though. Her stockings are loose over her ankles. Keep you on the run all day. Dreamy. His eyes followed the high figure in homespun. Fruitarians. Don’t eat a beefsteak. The dreamy cloudy gull Waves o’er the waters dull. beard and bicycle. Tried it. To aid gentleman in literary work. cloudy. They cook in soda. Keep you sitting by the tap all night. 295 of 1305 . Those literary etherial people they are all. Why do they call that thing they gave me nutsteak? Nutarians. a listening woman at his side. They say it’s healthier. Dreams all night. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was that kind of food you see produces the like waves of the brain the poetical. Bad as a bloater. She’s taking it all in. Absurd. Only weggebobbles and fruit. Must be in a certain mood.

He faced about and. standing between the awnings. Astonishing the things people leave behind them in trains and cloakrooms. If I had black glasses. Wanted to try that often. His lids came down on the lower rims of his irides. What do they be thinking about? Women too. pricing the fieldglasses. There was a lot of talk about those sunspots when we were in Lombard street west. The tip of his little finger blotted out the sun’s disk. Looking up from the back 296 of 1305 . Must get those old glasses of mine set right. Unclaimed money too. held out his right hand at arm’s length towards the sun. Undercutting. Incredible. Interesting.Ulysses He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the window of Yeates and Son. Can’t see it. Last year travelling to Ennis had to pick up that farmer’s daughter’s ba and hand it to her at Limerick junction. Can’t see it. Yes: completely. If you imagine it’s there you can almost see it. Germans making their way everywhere. Sell on easy terms to capture trade. Or will I drop into old Harris’s and have a chat with young Sinclair? Wellmannered fellow. There’s a little watch up there on the roof of the bank to test those glasses by. Might chance on a pair in the railway lost property office. Goerz lenses six guineas. Probably at his lunch. Must be the focus where the rays cross.

Terrific explosions they are. passing. crossing each other. I believe there is. The full moon was the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is a new moon. Must be a new moon out. Walking down by 297 of 1305 . There will be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time. It’s the clock is worked by an electric wire from Dunsink. Cap in hand goes through the land. The moon. Waste of time. she said. Lay it on with a trowel. Gasballs spinning about. Now that I come to think of it that ball falls at Greenwich time. Not go in and blurt out what you know you’re not to: what’s parallax? Show this gentleman the door. like that pineapple rock. That would do to: man always feels complimented. Gas: then solid: then world: then cold: then dead shell drifting around. His hand fell to his side again. frozen rock. His foremother. Nobleman proud to be descended from some king’s mistress.Ulysses garden. He went on by la maison Claire. If I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his family. Flattery where least expected. Never know anything about it. Same old dingdong always. Ah. Must go out there some first Saturday of the month. Wait.

Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke. M Coy said. eh? Showing long red pantaloons under his skirts. Stop. Yes. 298 of 1305 . Broth of a boy. He other side of her. quickbreathing. Gone. drinking. Not bad for a Fairview moon. laughed spluttering. Mr Bloom. The young May moon she’s beaming. His parboiled eyes. If it was it was. Take off that white hat. love. Drinkers. Up in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then the rest of the year sober as a judge. Thought so. Three Purty Maids from School. Dion Boucicault business with his harvestmoon face in a poky bonnet. Elbow. Yes. They drink in order to say or do something or cherchez la femme. The harp that once did starve us all. Pat. Where is he now? Beggar somewhere. Stop. Must. How time flies. More power. With a keep quiet relief his eyes took note this is the street here middle of the day of Bob Doran’s bottle shoulders. Touch. love. arm. He.Ulysses the Tolka. Glowworm’s la-amp is gleaming. Answer. their drink against their breath. On his annual bend. Plain soda would do him good. Where Pat Kinsella had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the Queen’s. She was humming. Fingers. slowlier walking passed Adam court. Sloping into the Empire. Asking.

Flimsy China silks. Meyerbeer. Thick feet that woman has in the white stockings. Taree tara. She twentythree. Always gives a woman clumsy feet. Muslin prints. dallying. Could never like it again after Rudy. silkdames and dowagers. the windows of Brown Thomas. Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses. Or was that I? Or am I now I? Twentyeight I was. A tilted urn poured from its mouth a flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood. Would you? Are you not happy in your home you poor little naughty boy? Wants to sew on buttons for me. Hope the rain mucks them up on her. Cascades of ribbons. He passed. Countrybred chawbacon. Molly looks out of plumb. 299 of 1305 . The huguenots brought that here.Ulysses I was happier then. I must answer. hoofthuds lowringing in the baking causeway. silk mercers. jingle of harnesses. Write it in the library. Can’t bring back time. Tara: bom bom bom. Must be washed in rainwater. La causa è santa! Tara tara. When we left Lombard street west something changed. Would you go back to then? Just beginning then. Like holding water in your hand. All the beef to the heels were in. Great chorus that.

creaking beds. Needles in window curtains. Nearly three months off. Sticking them all over the place. Must go back for that lotion. Useless to go back. Tell me all. Women won’t pick up pins. Feel better then. Gleaming silks. He turned Combridge’s corner. Wealth of the world. For her birthday perhaps. home and houses. Here we are. rays of flat silk stockings. The Burton. Sunwarm silk. silver. still pursued. along sofas. Had to be. A warm human plumpness settled down on his brain. Jingling harnesses. rich fruits spicy from Jaffa. With hungered flesh obscurely. Then she mightn’t like it. All kissed. All for a woman. tangled pressed grass. —Jack. yielded: in deep summer fields. full.Ulysses Pincushions. silkwebs. High voices. His brain yielded. petticoats on slim brass rails. he mutely craved to adore. hoofthuds. Jingling. Scrape: nearly gone. in trickling hallways of tenements. love! 300 of 1305 . Perfumed bodies. Not today anyhow. Junejulyaugseptember eighth. Say it cuts lo. Duke street. Agendath Netaim. Perfume of embraces all him assailed. warm. Must eat. He bared slightly his left forearm. I’m a long time threatening to buy one.

Men. Sad booser’s eyes. swilling. Stink gripped his trembling breath: pungent meatjuice. Bolting to get it over. Reggy! —My boy! —Love! His heart astir he pushed in the door of the Burton restaurant. A man spitting back on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no teeth to chewchewchew it. Don’t! O! A bone! That last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the schoolpoem choked himself at Sletty southward of the Boyne. Saint Patrick 301 of 1305 . men. slush of greens. New set of microbes. Perched on high stools by the bar. wiping wetted moustaches. See the animals feed. Hungry man is an angry man. Chump chop from the grill.Ulysses —Darling! —Kiss me. Am I like that? See ourselves as others see us. their eyes bulging. men. A man with an infant’s saucestained napkin tucked round him shovelled gurgling soup down his gullet. hats shoved back. Working tooth and jaw. A pallid suetfaced young man polished his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his napkin. Bitten off more than he can chew. wolfing gobfuls of sloppy food. Wonder what he was eating. at the tables calling for more bread no charge. Something galoptious.

Or no. But then the allusion is lost. Grace after meals. Born with a knife. His gorge rose. Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread. —One corned and cabbage. men’s beery piss. Good stroke. old chap picking his tootles. He gazed round the stooled and tabled eaters. That fellow ramming a knifeful of cabbage down as if his life depended on it. sweetish warmish cigarette smoke. That’s witty. —One stew. Couldn’t swallow it all however. Smells of men. Slight spasm. Couldn’t eat a morsel here. man! Get out of this. Tear it limb from limb. Before and after. Fellow sharpening knife and fork to eat all before him. Lick it off the plate. —Roast beef and cabbage. Look on this picture then on that. chewing the cud. reek of plug. I think. 302 of 1305 . Born with a silver knife in his mouth. Spaton sawdust. —Two stouts here. tightening the wings of his nose.Ulysses converted him to Christianity. Second nature to him. Give me the fidgets to look. spilt beer. Safer to eat from his three hands. Silver means born rich. full. the stale of ferment.

—Pint of stout. Stopgap. Had a good breakfast. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne’s. Out. A diner. Table talk. Other chap telling him something with his mouth full. Every fellow for his own. tooth and nail. Gulp. He backed towards the door. —Roast and mashed here. Eat or be eaten. Keep me going. Grub. All trotting down with porringers and tommycans to be filled. Gobstuff. I hate dirty eaters. He came out into clearer air and turned back towards Grafton street. knife and fork upright. ready for a second helping stared towards the foodlift across his stained square of newspaper. Rock. Don’t see him. Ha? Did you. John Howard Parnell 303 of 1305 . Devour contents in the street. Well up: it splashed yellow near his boot. faith? Mr Bloom raised two fingers doubtfully to his lips. Gulp. His eyes said: —Not here.Ulysses An illgirt server gathered sticky clattering plates. Sympathetic listener. the head bailiff. elbows on table. Kill! Kill! Suppose that communal kitchen years to come perhaps. I munched hum un thu Unchster Bunk un Munchday. standing at the bar blew the foamy crown from his tankard.

Then who’d wash up all the plates and forks? Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. 304 of 1305 . lord mayor in his gingerbread coach. Have rows all the same.Ulysses 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. My plate’s empty. Hate people all round you. Father O’Flynn would make hares of them all. 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. Meh. Clyde road. After you with our incorporated drinkingcup. Rub off the microbes with your handkerchief. Pain to the animal too. Next chap rubs on a new batch with his. Soup. north Dublin union. From Ailesbury road. Like sir Philip Crampton’s fountain. joint and sweet. Pluck and draw fowl. Wretched brutes there at the cattlemarket waiting for the poleaxe to split their skulls open. All for number one. Moo. Harpooning flitches and hindquarters out of it. Children fighting for the scrapings of the pot. Never know whose thoughts you’re chewing. old queen in a bathchair. Poor trembling calves. artisans’ dwellings. Want a souppot as big as the Phoenix park. City Arms hotel table d’hôte she called it. Teeth getting worse and worse.

I’m hungry. I’ll take a glass of burgundy and . thick sugary. Famished ghosts.. young one. —How’s things? —Tiptop . Let me see now. He doesn’t chat. What is home without Plumtree’s potted meat? Incomplete.. Sandwich? Ham and his descendants musterred and bred there. let me see.Ulysses Staggering bob. Insidious. Rawhead and bloody bones. Let me see.. Shandygaff? —Hello. Give us that brisket off the hook. Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. Plup. Flynn. Stands a drink now and then. What will I take now? He drew his watch. Top and lashers going out. sheepsnouts bloodypapered snivelling nosejam on sawdust. But in leapyear once in four. Lick it up smokinghot. —Hello. Cashed a cheque for me once. Butchers’ buckets wobbly lights. Don’t maul them pieces. What a stupid ad! Under the 305 of 1305 . Nosey Flynn said from his nook. Flayed glasseyed sheep hung from their haunches. He entered Davy Byrne’s. Almost taste them by looking. Potted meats. Ah. Sardines on the shelves. Moral pub. Blood always needed.. Bloom. Bubble and squeak.

Religions. Eat drink and be merry. Ought to be tough from exercise. Puzzle find the meat. Slaughter of innocents. Lubricate. Cannibals would with lemon and rice.Ulysses obituary notices they stuck it. the devil the cooks. Cheese digests all but itself. Yom Kippur fast spring cleaning of inside. Lord knows what concoction. Good glass of burgundy take away that. Italian I prefer. Hygiene that was what they call now. Pure olive oil. Like a few olives too if they had them. With it an abode of bliss. Who ate or something the somethings of the reverend Mr MacTrigger. Devilled crab. Heads bandaged. —Have you a cheese sandwich? —Yes. His wives in a row to watch the effect. sir. Take one Spanish onion. Christmas turkeys and geese. —Wife well? 306 of 1305 . cool as a cucumber. A nice salad. White missionary too salty. Puts gusto into it. Peace and war depend on some fellow’s digestion. Mity cheese. All up a plumtree. Dignam’s potted meat. Cauls mouldy tripes windpipes faked and minced up. Expect the chief consumes the parts of honour. Tom Kernan can dress. Then casual wards full after. Like pickled pork. Milly served me that cutlet with a sprig of parsley. God made food. No meat and milk together. There was a right royal old nigger. Kosher.

sir . Gorgonzola. 307 of 1305 .Ulysses —Quite well.. —Mustard. You may have heard perhaps. —How much is that? —Seven d. Easier than the dreamy creamy stuff. Who’s getting it up? The curate served.. Nosey Flynn sipped his grog. —Getting it up? he said. Mr MacTrigger. it’s like a company idea. I have it. He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs. It grew bigger and bigger and bigger. Well.. Free ad. —She’s engaged for a big tour end of this month. Their lives. O. —No. sir? —Thank you. then. Still better tell him. Had the time of their lives. thanks . A cheese sandwich.. Thank you. sir. Part shares and part profits.. Does no harm. —Doing any singing those times? Look at his mouth. sir. Mr Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips. you see. Music. Could whistle in his own ear. that’s the style. Flap ears to match. His five hundred wives. Knows as much about it as my coachman. have you? —Yes.

No fear: no brains.. Hope that dewdrop doesn’t come down into his glass. Jack Mooney was telling me. Flea having a good square meal. yearned more longly. Two. he said. sank within him. —Yes. bidding his throat strongly to speed it. By God. snuffled it up. Time going on.. Two. now I remember.Ulysses —Ay. Nosey Flynn said. He’s the organiser in point of fact. He raised his eyes and met the stare of a bilious clock. over that boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the Portobello barracks. 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. No. His midriff yearned then upward. set his wineglass delicately down. Wine. —He had a good slice of luck. longingly. He smellsipped the cordial juice and. Not yet. putting his hand in his pocket to scratch his groin. Pub clock five minutes fast. Hands moving. 308 of 1305 . Nosey Flynn snuffled and scratched. he had the little kipper down in the county Carlow he was telling me .

man. —You’re right there. Nosey Flynn said. Nosey Flynn said. Tastes fuller this weather with the chill off. the same horses. wine and spirits for consumption on the premises. fresh clean bread. It ruined many a man. before it came off. 309 of 1305 . cleaning his lips with two wipes of his napkin. Sips of his wine soothed his palate. Sucking duck eggs by God till further orders. Nicely planed. Like the way it curves there. Mr Flynn. the feety savour of green cheese. Blazes is a hairy chap. Davy Byrne answered. by God. —I wouldn’t do anything at all in that line. Not logwood that. Davy Byrne said. —And here’s himself and pepper on him. Keep him off the boose. Can you give us a good one for the Gold cup? —I’m off that. I never put anything on a horse. see? O. Too much fat on the parsnips. Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwich. Licensed for the sale of beer. with relish of disgust pungent mustard. Nice piece of wood in that counter. Herring’s blush. Whose smile upon each feature plays with such and such replete. Davy Byrne came forward from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves. Nice quiet bar. Heads I win tails you lose. Vintners’ sweepstake.Ulysses —For near a month.

won at Epsom. Dogs’ cold noses.Ulysses —True for you. That was a rare bit of horseflesh. Cold nose he’d have kissing a woman. Ay. He put me off it. —That so? Davy Byrne said . Bad luck to big Ben Dollard and his John O’Gaunt. He went towards the window and. Lenehan gets some good ones.. She won in a thunderstorm. I could have got seven to one against Saint Amant a fortnight before. lord Howard de Walden’s. Rothschild’s filly. standing. Still they might like. sighing. Old Mrs Riordan with the rumbling stomach’s Skye terrier in the 310 of 1305 . Will I tell him that horse Lenehan? He knows already. Mr Bloom. —I could. He drank resignedly from his tumbler. —Ay. Saint Frusquin was her sire. snuffling. Better let him forget. scanned its pages. faith. Morny Cannon is riding him. Nosey Flynn said. There’s no straight sport going now. Fool and his money.. Prickly beards they like. running his fingers down the flutes. Blue jacket and yellow cap. Zinfandel’s the favourite. Nosey numbskull. Dewdrop coming down again. taking up the pettycash book. with wadding in her ears. Go and lose more. Unless you’re in the know. He’s giving Sceptre today. Nosey Flynn said. he said. looked upon his sigh. champing.

Cream. Ice cones.Ulysses City Arms hotel. She . out of the sea with bait on a hook. Try it on the dog first. Silly fish learn nothing in a thousand years. All the odd things people pick up for food. Who found them out? Garbage. Devil to open them too. Poisonous berries. One fellow told another and so on. Instinct. the big doggybowwowsywowsy! Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread mustard a moment mawkish cheese. If you didn’t know risky putting anything into your mouth. off trees. Orangegroves for instance. Tempting fruit. Fizz and Red bank oysters. Then about six o’clock I can. Need artificial irrigation. Bleibtreustrasse. His eyes unhungrily saw shelves of tins: sardines. Johnny Magories. Felt so off colour... Unsightly like a clot of phlegm. Taste it better because I’m not thirsty. Aphrodis. Molly fondling him in her lap. Gaudy colour warns you off. Yes but what about oysters. periwinkles with a pin. Out of shells. Filthy shells. snails out of the ground the French eat. Mild fire of wine kindled his veins. Time will be gone then. O. Six. Six. gaudy lobsters’ claws. Roundness you think good. Bath of course does that. I wanted that badly. Led on by the smell or the look. Just a bite or two. sewage they feed on. Effect on the sexual. Nice wine it is. He was in the Red Bank this 311 of 1305 .

Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme. Tainted game. Of course aristocrats. Combustible duck. right to venisons of the forest from his ex. First catch your hare. Hermit with a platter of pulse keep down the stings of the flesh. Was he oysters old fish at table perhaps he young flesh in bed no June has no ar no oysters. Chinese eating eggs fifty years old. Half the catch of oysters they throw back in the sea to keep up the price. The élite. Swell blowout. Dinner of thirty courses. 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. Too 312 of 1305 . Jugged hare. Idea for a poison mystery. Crème de la crème. Send him back the half of a cow. Each dish harmless might mix inside. Raw pastry I like myself. Just as well to write it on the bill of fare so you can know what you’ve eaten. Royal sturgeon high sheriff. Know me come eat with me. Powdered bosom pearls. Spread I saw down in the Master of the Rolls’ kitchen area. Milly too rock oil and flour. But there are people like things high. Whitehatted chef like a rabbi.Ulysses morning. Cheap no-one would buy. Lady this. then the others copy to be in the fashion. They want special dishes to pretend they’re. the butcher. blue and green again. Hock in green glasses. Coffey. Caviare. Do the grand.

the lines faint brown in grass. The bay purple by the Lion’s head.Ulysses many drugs spoil the broth. Huguenot name I expect that. halfnaked ladies. Yellowgreen towards Sutton. Seems to a secret touch telling me memory. Fields of undersea. Du. miss Dubedat? Yes. I know it myself. Stuck on the pane two flies buzzed. Moooikill A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a kish of brogues. And she did bedad. Wouldn’t mind being a waiter in a swell hotel. worth fifty thousand pounds. A miss Dubedat lived in Killiney. Dosing it with Edwards’ desiccated soup. earwigs in the heather scrub my hand 313 of 1305 . Tips. stuck. Sun’s heat it is. Hidden under wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. Glowing wine on his palate lingered swallowed. The sky. Geese stuffed silly for them. Green by Drumleck. Do ptake some ptarmigan. evening dress. May I tempt you to a little more filleted lemon sole. I remember. Lobsters boiled alive. Pillowed on my coat she had her hair. Touched his sense moistened remembered. de la French. No sound. 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. Crushing in the winepress grapes of Burgundy. do bedad. buried cities.

Joy: I ate it: joy. Can see them library museum standing in the round hall. She lay still. dropping currants. Softly she gave me in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. Hot I tongued her. I was kissed. Soft warm sticky gumjelly lips. fat nipples upright. kissed her mouth. Kissed. They don’t care what man 314 of 1305 . Young life. her stretched neck beating. kissed her: eyes. She kissed me. No-one. Juno: curves the world admires. All yielding she tossed my hair. Mawkish pulp her mouth had mumbled sweetsour of her spittle. Me. And me now. full lips full open. willing eyes. Yum. Flowers her eyes were. O wonder! Coolsoft with ointments her hand touched me. Aids to digestion. Ravished over her I lay. take me. Venus. Beauty: it curves: curves are beauty.Ulysses under her nape. she kissed me. Wildly I lay on her. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a nannygoat walking surefooted. woman’s breasts full in her blouse of nun’s veiling. Shapely goddesses. His downcast eyes followed the silent veining of the oaken slab. A goat. her lips. her lips that gave me pouting. caressed: her eyes upon me did not turn away. Stuck. the flies buzzed. you’ll toss me all. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. naked goddesses. Pebbles fell.

Never speaking. A man and ready he drained his glass to the lees and walked. All to see. carrots and turnips. dung. blood. He does canvassing for the Freeman. They have no. 315 of 1305 . Nosey Flynn said. Suppose she did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first? Mortal! Put you in your proper place. I mean to say to fellows like Flynn. Dribbling a quiet message from his bladder came to go to do not to do there to do. chyle. food: have to feed it like stoking an engine. Never looked. Keeper won’t see. lay with men lovers. Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian. Immortal lovely. I’ll look today. all ambrosial.Ulysses looks. Bend down let something drop see if she. Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods’ food. to 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 ago. Not like a tanner lunch we have. earth. Quaffing nectar at mess with gods golden dishes. manly conscious. to men too they gave themselves. boiled mutton. bottle of Allsop. a youth enjoyed her. And we stuffing food in one hole and out behind: food.

coming from his book. Davy Byrne 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. Not that I heard of.Ulysses —I know him well to see. Why? —I noticed he was in mourning. —And is he doing for the Freeman? Davy Byrne said. if I see a gentleman is in trouble that way. —I never broach the subject. It only brings it up fresh in their minds. I tell you. by God. —-He doesn’t buy cream on the ads he picks up. Nosey Flynn pursed his lips. —How so? Davy Byrne asked. Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the air with juggling fingers. So he was. So he was. Nosey Flynn said. He winked. 316 of 1305 . faith. You’re right. Davy Byrne said humanely. I asked him how was all at home. Is he in trouble? —Trouble? Nosey Flynn said. She’s well nourished. —It’s not the wife anyhow. You can make bacon of that. —Was he? Nosey Flynn said. Plovers on toast.

I won’t say who. he said. Nosey Flynn said. —Very much so. They give him a leg up.Ulysses —He’s in the craft. 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. —Is that a fact? —O. —-Do you tell me so? Davy Byrne said. But they’re as close as damn it. Nosey Flynn said. I often saw him in here and I never once saw him—you know. sated after his yawn. by God. over the line. By God they did right to keep the women out of it. said with tearwashed eyes: —And is that a fact? Decent quiet man he is. I was told that by a—well. I know a fellow was trying to get into it. Davy Byrne. it’s a fine order. life and love. 317 of 1305 . Nosey Flynn said. They stick to you when you’re down. Ancient free and accepted order. He’s an excellent brother. hid herself in a clock to find out what they do be doing. Light. Davy Byrne smiledyawnednodded all in one: —Iiiiiichaaaaaaach! —There was one woman.

—Who’s standing? Paddy Leonard asked. Give the devil his due. Davy Byrne said. —Well. you weren’t there. But there’s one thing he’ll never do. I’d say. Slips off when the fun gets too hot. Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons came in. Didn’t you see him look at his watch? Ah. They paused at the counter. Nosey Flynn said. O. snuffling it up. Nosey Flynn said firmly. 318 of 1305 .Ulysses —God Almighty couldn’t make him drunk. Nosey Flynn answered. what’ll it be? Paddy Leonard asked. Declare to God he does. —He’s not too bad. His hand scrawled a dry pen signature beside his grog. —Day. Nosey Flynn said. Tom Rochford followed frowning. gentlemen. Davy Byrne said. If you ask him to have a drink first thing he does he outs with the watch to see what he ought to imbibe. a plaining hand on his claret waistcoat. —I’m sitting anyhow. —Nothing in black and white. Mr Byrne. He’s a safe man. Bloom has his good points. —There are some like that. —Day. He’s been known to put his hand down too to help a fellow. —I know.

Davy Byrne said. —Certainly. —Zinfandel is it? Nosey Flynn asked. I’m going to plunge five bob on my own. Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates. Tom Rochford spilt powder from a twisted paper into the water set before him. Tom? —How is the main drainage? Nosey Flynn asked. A dead snip. Look at what I’m standing drinks to! Cold water and gingerpop! Two fellows that would suck whisky off a sore leg. —That cursed dyspepsia. —Is it Zinfandel? —Say nothing! Bantam Lyons winked. for God’ sake? What’s yours. sipping. He has some bloody horse up his sleeve for the Gold cup. he said. Tom Rochford nodded and drank. —Lord love a duck. —Breadsoda is very good. For answer Tom Rochford pressed his hand to his breastbone and hiccupped. sir. Mr Byrne? he said. —Would I trouble you for a glass of fresh water. 319 of 1305 . Since when. Bantam Lyons said. he said before drinking.Ulysses —I’ll take a stone ginger. —How much? Paddy Leonard cried.

At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a sick knuckly cud on the cobblestones and lapped it with new zest. his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. Who gave it to you? Mr Bloom on his way out raised three fingers in greeting. —Ay. Wonder if Tom Rochford will do anything 320 of 1305 . Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents. Mr Byrne. Bantam Lyons whispered. Davy Byrne added civilly. —That’s the man now that gave it to me. say. Something green it would have to be: spinach. First sweet then savoury. Surfeit. we’ll take two of your small Jamesons after that and a . Paddy Leonard said. Their upper jaw they move. —Prrwht! Paddy Leonard said with scorn. —So long! Nosey Flynn said.Ulysses —Tell us if you’re worth your salt and be damned to you. A suckingbottle for the baby. Ruminants.. The others turned. His second course. Paddy Leonard said. sir. Mr Bloom coasted warily. Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street. Then with those Rontgen rays searchlight you could. —Stone ginger..

That Kilkenny People in the national library now I must. —A cenar teco. Good pick me up.Ulysses with that invention of his? Wasting time explaining it to Flynn’s mouth. tour 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. Dutch courage. Burgundy. They could: and watch it all the way down. Don Giovanni. Science. thou hast me invited To come to supper tonight. He hummed. Feel better. Course then you’d have all the cranks pestering. What does that teco mean? Tonight perhaps. The rum the rumdum. Bare clean closestools waiting in the window of William Miller. swallow a pin sometimes come out of the ribs years after. 321 of 1305 . Who distilled first? Some chap in the blues. a cenar teco M’invitasti. plumber. prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the bars: Don Giovanni. Lean people long mouths. turned back his thoughts. Ought to be a hall or a place where inventors could go in and invent free.

Two eleven. They say they used to give pauper children soup to change to protestants in the time of the potato blight. Small wages. Margate. Piers by moonlight. Why I left the church of Rome? Birds’ Nest. Not think. Five guineas about. On the pig’s back. Society over the way papa went to for the conversion of poor jews. colour of her new garters. Will eat anything. Mr Bloom turned at Gray’s confectioner’s window of unbought tarts and passed the reverend Thomas Connellan’s bookstore. Today. Prescott’s dyeworks van over there. Same bait. Why we left the church of Rome. Handy man wants job. Today. Three Hynes owes me. gnawing a crusted knuckle.Ulysses Doesn’t go properly. Women run him. Those lovely seaside girls. Tour the south then. Against John Long’s a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought. 322 of 1305 . What about English wateringplaces? Brighton. Her voice floating out. If I get Billy Prescott’s ad: two fifteen. That’ll be two pounds ten about two pounds eight. Could buy one of those silk petticoats for Molly. Keyes: two months if I get Nannetti to.

323 of 1305 . Say something to him. —You’re in Dawson street. The blind stripling did not answer. —The rain kept off. Do you want to cross? There’s nothing in the way. The cane moved out trembling to the left. —There’s a van there. the stripling answered. South Frederick street. They mistrust what you tell them. but it’s not moving. Wants to cross. —Come. Mr Bloom said. Horse drooping. Where I saw his brillantined hair just when I was. He touched the thin elbow gently: then took the limp seeing hand to guide it forward. Better not do the condescending. Do you want to go to Molesworth street? —Yes. Driver in John Long’s. Molesworth street is opposite. No tram in sight. Mr Bloom said. Slaking his drouth. Mr Bloom’s eye followed its line and saw again the dyeworks’ van drawn up before Drago’s. Mr Bloom said.Ulysses A blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone with his slender cane. He moved his head uncertainly. I’ll see you across. His wallface frowned weakly. Pass a common remark. —Do you want to cross? Mr Bloom asked.

Have to be spoonfed first. Weight or size of it. Keep his cane clear of the horse’s legs: tired drudge get his doze. The blind stripling tapped the curbstone and went on his way. Behind a bull: in front of a horse. sir. his hand.Ulysses No answer. Penrose! That was that chap’s name. Tastes all different for him. —Thanks. Like Milly’s was. Stains on his coat. Queer idea of Dublin he must have. Slobbers his food. Could he walk in a beeline if he hadn’t that cane? Bloodless pious face like a fellow going in to be a priest. Poor young fellow! How on earth did he know that van was there? Must have felt it. Feel a gap. That’s right. Wonder if he has a name. Clear. feeling again. 324 of 1305 . drawing his cane back. See things in their forehead perhaps: kind of sense of volume. Like a child’s hand. Voice. Van. something blacker than the dark. Knows I’m a man. Mr Bloom walked behind the eyeless feet. I suppose. Sensitive. Wonder would he feel it if something was removed. tapping his way round by the stones. a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed. —Right now? First turn to the left. Sizing me up I daresay from my hand.

Plait baskets. Of course the other senses are more. Then passing over her white skin. Must be strange not to see her. Hates sewing. for instance. Or we are surprised they have any brains. Embroider. Good. Tune pianos. Also smoke in the dark they say get no pleasure. Tastes? They say you can’t taste wines with your eyes shut or a cold in the head. We call it black. More shameless not seeing. the curves. Say it was black. Smells on all sides. bunched together. the summer: smells. Workbasket I could buy for Molly’s birthday. Each person too. Then the spring. I have them all on. for instance. Look at me. That girl passing the Stewart institution. The voice. Might take an objection. Why we think a deformed person or a hunchback clever if he says something we might say. Read with their fingers. head in the air. 325 of 1305 . Dark men they call them. Kind of a form in his mind’s eye. People ought to help.Ulysses Look at all the things they can learn to do. Feeling of white. And with a woman. temperatures: when he touches her with his fingers must almost see the lines. His hands on her hair. Different feel perhaps. for instance. Sense of smell must be stronger too. Each street different smell.

Poor fellow! Quite a boy. Fag today.Ulysses Postoffice. Might be settling my braces. Want to try in the dark to see. half a crown. Wait. pulling aside his shirt gently. 326 of 1305 . Where is the justice being born that way? All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York. Terrible. What dreams would he have. The belly is the smoothest. He withdrew his hand and pulled his dress to. Accept my little present. dear. Send her a postal order two shillings. Not smooth enough. There he goes into Frederick street. Downy hair there too. Stationer’s just here too. Holocaust. No-one about. Then gently his finger felt the skin of his right cheek. felt a slack fold of his belly. Fibres of fine fine straw. Walking by Doran’s publichouse he slid his hand between his waistcoat and trousers and. With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears. Again. Karma they call that transmigration for sins you did in a past life the reincarnation met him pike hoses. Dear. Think over it. Must answer. But I know it’s whitey yellow. dear. Really terrible. of course: but somehow you can’t cotton on to them someway. not seeing? Life a dream for him. Perhaps to Levenston’s dancing academy piano. Pity.

It is. Old legal cronies cracking a magnum. Crusty old topers in wigs. The Messiah was first given for that. Now he’s really what they call a dirty jew. Today it is. And may the Lord have mercy on your soul. Wear out my welcome. After his good lunch in Earlsfort terrace. Bear with a sore paw. Drop in on Keyes. Vintage wine for them. Handel. 327 of 1305 . Mirus bazaar. the year marked on a dusty bottle. I sentenced him to ten years. I suppose he’d turn up his nose at that stuff I drank. His Excellency the lord lieutenant. Sends them to the rightabout. Wellmeaning old man. No use sticking to him like a leech. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime. Straw hat in sunlight. It is. Power those judges have.Ulysses Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the freemasons’ hall. a great strawcalling. placard. The devil on moneylenders. First I must. Mr Bloom came to Kildare street. Yes. Tales of the bench and assizes and annals of the bluecoat school. Gave Reuben J. In aid of funds for Mercer’s hospital. Hello. Has his own ideas of justice in the recorder’s court. Library. Sure to know someone on the gate. Tan shoes. Sixteenth. Turnedup trousers. What about going out there: Ballsbridge. Solemn as Troy.

Trousers. The walk. He swerved to the right. Not see. Goddesses. Is it? Almost certain. Just at the gate. Didn’t see me. Look for something I. Sir Thomas Deane was the Greek architecture. Wine in my face. Freeman. Purse. Won’t look. Try all pockets. Why did I? Too heady. Not following me? Didn’t see me perhaps. Afternoon she said. Where? 328 of 1305 . He thrust back quick Agendath. My heart! His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of stone. I am looking for that.Ulysses His heart quopped softly. The flutter of his breath came forth in short sighs. Quick. His hasty hand went quick into a pocket. To the right. Making for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes. Handsome building. Cold statues: quiet there. took out. Get on. After two. yes. read unfolded Agendath Netaim. Light in his eyes. Safe in a minute. Handker. No. Where did I? Busy looking. Museum. Sir Thomas Deane designed. Potato. it is. Where did I? Ah. Yes. Yes. that.

as one sees in real life. His hand looking for the where did I put found in his hip pocket soap lotion have to call tepid paper stuck.Ulysses Hurry. He came a step a sinkapace forward on neatsleather creaking and a step backward a sinkapace on the solemn floor. One always feels that Goethe’s judgments are so true. Moment more. Safe! ***** Urbane. those priceless pages of Wilhelm Meister. to comfort them. True in the larger analysis. the quaker librarian purred: —And we have. —Directly. 329 of 1305 . A noiseless attendant setting open the door but slightly made him a noiseless beck. torn by conflicting doubts. Walk quietly. said he. The beautiful ineffectual dreamer who comes to grief against hard facts. creaking to go. A great poet on a great brother poet. have we not. albeit lingering. A hesitating soul taking arms against a sea of troubles. My heart. Ah soap there I yes. Gate.

John Eglinton asked with elder’s gall. Glittereyed his rufous skull close to his greencapped desklamp sought the face bearded amid darkgreener shadow... He laughed low: a sizar’s laugh of Trinity: unanswered. 330 of 1305 . Bald. For he was a medical Jolly old medi . Smile. holyeyed. —Monsieur de la Palice. —I feel you would need one more for Hamlet.B. most zealous by the door he gave his large ear all to the attendant’s words: heard them: and was gone. Smile Cranly’s smile. to write Paradise Lost at your dictation? The Sorrows of Satan he calls it. Two left.Ulysses Twicreakingly analysis he corantoed off. The shining seven W. an ollav. Seven is dear to the mystic mind. was alive fifteen minutes before his death. First he tickled her Then he patted her Then he passed the female catheter. calls them. —Have you found those six brave medicals. Stephen sneered.

God speed. whether Hamlet is Shakespeare or James I or Essex. Art has to reveal to us ideas. The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring. And one more to hail him: ave. John Eglinton censured. Cranly’s eleven true Wicklowmen to free their sireland. Persist. The deepest poetry of Shelley. —All these questions are purely academic. Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta. The painting of Gustave Moreau is the painting of ideas. In the shadow of the glen he cooees for them. —Our young Irish bards. I mean. Good hunting. Mulligan has my telegram. Folly.Ulysses Orchestral Satan. Russell oracled out of his shadow. Gaptoothed Kathleen. He holds my follies hostage. as old Ben did. night by night. on this side idolatry. the words of Hamlet bring our 331 of 1305 . rabbi: the Tinahely twelve. formless spiritual essences. weeping many a rood Tears such as angels weep. have yet to create a figure which the world will set beside Saxon Shakespeare’s Hamlet though I admire him. Clergymen’s discussions of the historicity of Jesus. the stranger in her house. her four beautiful green fields. My soul’s youth I gave him.

The life esoteric is not for ordinary person. Hiesos Kristos. magician of the beautiful. Father. whose identity is no secret to adepts. I am the fire upon the altar. one should hope.. I am the sacrificial butter. The Christ with the bridesister. must work off bad karma first. Formless spiritual. Aristotle was once Plato’s schoolboy. All the rest is the speculation of schoolboys for schoolboys. E. has been telling some yankee interviewer. Allfather. moisture of light.E. the heavenly man. Mrs Cooper 332 of 1305 .. Plato’s world of ideas. Word and Holy Breath. Stephen said superpolitely. O. Brothers of the great white lodge always watching to see if they can help. A. born of an ensouled virgin. A. in heaven hight: K. tarnation strike me! —The schoolmen were schoolboys first. One can see him. Dunlop. John Eglinton sedately said. their master.H. Wall.P. repentant sophia. the noblest Roman of them all. a model schoolboy with his diploma under his arm. This verily is that. —And has remained so. Judge. the Name Ineffable. departed to the plane of buddhi. Arval. the Logos who suffers in us at every moment. He laughed again at the now smiling bearded face.Ulysses minds into contact with the eternal wisdom.

Ulysses Oakley once glimpsed our very illustrious sister H. 333 of 1305 . the here. waxing wroth: —Upon my word it makes my blood boil to hear anyone compare Aristotle with Plato. Streams of tendency and eons they worship. Mr Best entered. 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. through which all future plunges to the past. John Eglinton. —That model schoolboy. He bore in his hand with grace a notebook. would have banished me from his commonwealth? Unsheathe your dagger definitions. bright. young. missus. insignificant and undramatic monologue. large. new. God: noise in the street: very peripatetic. fie! Out on’t! Pfuiteufel! You naughtn’t to look.P. would find Hamlet’s musings about the afterlife of his princely soul.B. clean. Horseness is the whatness of allhorse. Stephen asked. mild. O. so you naughtn’t when a lady’s ashowing of her elemental. Stephen said. the improbable. Hold to the now. tall. light. said. —Which of the two. frowning. Space: what you damn well have to see. as shallow as Plato’s.’s elemental.

Penitent thief.Ulysses Mr Best came forward. ‘twas not my wish In lean unlovely English. the musichall song. —People do not know how dangerous lovesongs can be. For them the earth is not an exploitable ground but the living mother. —Haines is gone. my booklet. Gone. We feel in England. Green twinkling stone. —Is he? —I was showing him Jubainville’s book. He’s quite enthusiastic. I couldn’t bring him in to hear the discussion. Writ. I smoked his baccy. he said. —The peatsmoke is going to his head. amiable. The movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant’s heart on the hillside. An emerald set in the ring of the sea. quick To greet the callous public. about Hyde’s Lovesongs of Connacht. don’t you know. He’s gone to Gill’s to buy it. the auric egg of Russell warned occultly. France produces the finest flower of corruption in 334 of 1305 . Bound thee forth. towards his colleague. The rarefied air of the academy and the arena produce the sixshilling novel. I ween. John Eglinton opined.

His free hand graciously wrote tiny signs in air. don’t you know. Sumptuous and stagnant exaggeration of murder. the life of Homer’s Phaeacians. From these words Mr Best turned an unoffending face to Stephen. a provincial town. he said. Stephen ended. he said. —Mallarme. I suppose it would be. John Eglinton laughed. lisant au livre de lui-même. It’s so French. They advertised it. don’t you know. The one about Hamlet.. has written those wonderful prose poems Stephen MacKenna used to read to me in Paris. no doubt. but distressingly shortsighted in some matters. HAMLET ou LE DISTRAIT Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton’s newgathered frown: —Pièce de Shakespeare. The French point of view. He says: il se promène. He describes Hamlet given in a French town. Hamlet ou.Ulysses Mallarme but the desirable life is revealed only to the poor of heart. reading the book of himself. don’t you know.. don’t you know. Excellent people. 335 of 1305 . —Yes. —The absentminded beggar.

Ulysses —A deathsman of the soul Robert Greene called him.. following battles from afar.. 336 of 1305 . I his mute orderly. through absence. The bloodboltered shambles in act five is a forecast of the concentration camp sung by Mr Swinburne. One who has faded into impalpability through death. Our Father who art in purgatory. Cranly. If thou didst ever . Khaki Hamlets don’t hesitate to shoot. Elizabethan London lay as far from Stratford as corrupt Paris lies from virgin Dublin. wielding the sledded poleaxe and spitting in his palms. John Eglinton said for Mr Best’s behoof. Stephen said.. Between the Saxon smile and yankee yawp. —What is a ghost? Stephen said with tingling energy. Not for nothing was he a butcher’s son. Nine lives are taken off for his father’s one. Whelps and dams of murderous foes whom none But we had spared . through change of manners. hears. Who is the ghost from limbo patrum. —He will have it that Hamlet is a ghoststory. The devil and the deep sea.. List! List! O List! My flesh hears him: creeping. Like the fat boy in Pickwick he wants to make our flesh creep.

Local colour. Work in all you know. Ignatius Loyola.Ulysses returning to the world that has forgotten him? Who is King Hamlet? John Eglinton shifted his spare body. A player comes on under the shadow. Lifted. the king. The flag is up on the playhouse by the bankside. and the player is Shakespeare who has 337 of 1305 . —Shakespeare has left the huguenot’s house in Silver street and walks by the swanmews along the riverbank. It is the ghost. begging with a swift glance their hearing. make haste to help me! —The play begins. Stephen said. Canvasclimbers who sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the groundlings. But he does not stay to feed the pen chivying her game of cygnets towards the rushes. leaning back to judge. Composition of place. —It is this hour of a day in mid June. Make them accomplices. The bear Sackerson growls in the pit near it. a king and no king. The swan of Avon has other thoughts. a wellset man with a bass voice. made up in the castoff mail of a court buck. Paris garden.

Ulysses studied Hamlet all the years of his life which were not vanity in order to play the part of the spectre. and in the vesture of buried Denmark. born Hathaway? —But this prying into the family life of a great man. Hamnet Shakespeare. I mean. young Hamlet and to the son of his body. a ghost by death. Ann Shakespeare. the prince. the son of his soul. I want to know. Art thou there. we have the plays. speaking his own words to his own son’s name (had Hamnet Shakespeare lived he would have been prince Hamlet’s twin). I mean when we read the poetry of King Lear what is it to us how the poet lived? As for living our 338 of 1305 . Is it possible that that player Shakespeare. a ghost by absence. who has died in Stratford that his namesake may live for ever. calling him by a name: Hamlet. He speaks the words to Burbage. bidding him list. truepenny? —Interesting only to the parish clerk. or 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 queen. I am thy father’s spirit. To a son he speaks. the young player who stands before him beyond the rack of cerecloth. Russell began impatiently. is it possible.

I wanted it.. The northeast corner. that pound he lent you when you were hungry? Marry. We have King Lear: and it is immortal.. Villiers de l’Isle has said. Go to! You spent most of it in Georgina Johnson’s bed. Agenbite of inwit. You owe it. Steady on. then? I paid my way. How now. Do you intend to pay it back? O. He’s from beyant Boyne water.. agreed. Five months. I paid my way. Buzz. yes. 339 of 1305 . No.Ulysses servants can do that for us. Mananaan. Peeping and prying into greenroom gossip of the day.. appealed to. Mr Best’s face. When? Now? Well . Other I got pound. Take thou this noble. sirrah. Molecules all change. Flow over them with your waves and with your waters. I am other I now. the poet’s debts. the poet’s drinking. clergyman’s daughter. Buzz. Mananaan MacLir . When. Wait.

Stephen retorted. Who brought me into this world lies there. and got out of it as quickly and as best he could. under few cheap flowers. entelechy. John Eglinton looked in the tangled glowworm of his lamp.U. A. 340 of 1305 . form of forms.I. sixtyseven years after she was born.Ulysses But I. I wept alone. I and I. She took his first embraces. am I by memory because under everchanging forms. I. before she was born. —Do you mean to fly in the face of the tradition of three centuries? John Eglinton’s carping voice asked. She bore his children and she laid pennies on his eyes to keep his eyelids closed when he lay on his deathbed. I that sinned and prayed and fasted. A child Conmee saved from pandies. he said. —The world believes that Shakespeare made a mistake. —She died. bronzelidded. Liliata rutilantium.E. for literature at least. Her ghost at least has been laid for ever. She died. I. The sheeted mirror.O. Candle. She saw him into and out of the world. Mother’s deathbed.

to remind. will ever know. —But Ann Hathaway? Mr Best’s quiet voice said forgetfully. guiltless though maligned. —He had a good groatsworth of wit. —A shrew. and no truant memory. But neither the midwife’s lore nor the caudlelectures saved him from the archons of Sinn Fein and their naggin of hemlock. A man of genius makes no mistakes. softcreakfooted. What useful discovery did Socrates learn from Xanthippe? —Dialectic. John Eglinton said shrewdly. no man.Ulysses —Bosh! Stephen said rudely. one should imagine. Yes. is not a useful portal of discovery. we seem to be forgetting her as Shakespeare himself forgot her. His look went from brooder’s beard to carper’s skull. 341 of 1305 . to chide them not unkindly. Portals of discovery opened to let in the quaker librarian. eared and assiduous. What he learnt from his other wife Myrto (absit nomen!). not a woman. bald. Socratididion’s Epipsychidion. Stephen said. He carried a memory in his wallet as he trudged to Romeville whistling The girl I left behind me. then to the baldpink lollard costard. Stephen answered: and from his mother how to bring thoughts into the world. His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery.

had 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. He chose badly? He was chosen. Do you think the writer of Antony and Cleopatra. a passionate pilgrim. stooping to conquer.Ulysses If the earthquake did not time it we should know where to place poor Wat. Their life. the cry of hounds. gladly. She put the comether on him. is a boldfaced Stratford wench who tumbles in a cornfield a lover younger than herself. By cock. sitting in his form. Is Katharine the shrew illfavoured? Hortensio calls her young and beautiful. That memory. the studded bridle and her blue windows. He murmured then with blond delight for all: 342 of 1305 . The greyeyed goddess who bends over the boy Adonis. But his boywomen are the women of a boy. If others have their will Ann hath a way. raising his new book. Venus and Adonis. she was to blame. Mr Best said brightly. thought. sweet and twentysix. gladly. as prologue to the swelling act. it seems to me. speech are lent them by males. lay in the bedchamber of every light-oflove in London. brightly. And my turn? When? Come! —Ryefield.

their oversoul.Ulysses Between the acres of the rye These pretty countryfolk would lie. T. Caulfield Irwin. —I am afraid I am due at the Homestead. Shall we see you at Moore’s tonight? Piper is coming. Gulfer of souls. Crosslegged under an umbrel umbershoot he thrones an Aztec logos. shesouls. ripe for chelaship. Paris: the wellpleased pleaser. —I don’t know if I can. shoals 343 of 1305 . Lotus ladies tend them i’the eyes. Isis Unveiled. Their Pali book we tried to pawn. Filled with his god. A tall figure in bearded homespun rose from shadow and unveiled its cooperative watch. mahamahatma. Louis H. he thrones. Whither away? Exploitable ground. Is Piper back? Peter Piper pecked a peck of pick of peck of pickled pepper. ringroundabout him. If I can get away in time. The faithful hermetists await the light. engulfer. Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers. Hesouls. We have our meeting. Victory. —Piper! Mr Best piped. Buddh under plantain. —Are you going? John Eglinton’s active eyebrows asked. their pineal glands aglow. functioning on astral levels. Thursday.

One or two? Necessity is that in virtue of which it is impossible that one can be otherwise. shone. —They say we are to have a literary surprise. whirled. Argal. hung on his ashplanthandle over his knee.Ulysses of souls. will he? I liked Colum’s Drover. George Roberts is doing the commercial part. rumour has it. Do you think he has genius really? Yeats admired his line: As in wild earth a Grecian vase. I think he has that queer thing genius. whirling. is gathering together a sheaf of our younger poets’ verses. Listen. Longworth will give it a good puff in the Express. friendly and earnest. they bewail. Engulfed with wailing creecries. In quintessential triviality For years in this fleshcase a shesoul dwelt. Yes. Touch lightly with two index fingers. lighted. See this. Aristotle’s experiment. Stephen looked down on a wide headless caubeen. O. Young Colum and Starkey. We are all looking forward anxiously. Did he? I hope you’ll be able to come 344 of 1305 . one hat is one hat. My casque and sword. the quaker librarian said. Mr Russell. Anxiously he glanced in the cone of lamplight where three faces. Remember.

Malachi Mulligan is coming too. Are we going to be read? I feel we are. And his Dulcinea? James Stephens is doing some clever sketches. Cordoglio. We are becoming important. —Thank you very much. —O. The pigs’ paper. Our national epic has yet to be written. he must speak the grand old tongue. Bullockbefriending. Lir’s loneliest daughter. isn’t it? They remind one of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. God ild you. Mr Russell. The Gaelic league wants something in Irish. Did you hear Miss Mitchell’s joke about Moore and Martyn? That Moore is Martyn’s wild oats? Awfully clever. With a saffron kilt? O’Neill Russell? O. Moore asked him to bring Haines. Nookshotten. Bring Starkey. yes. Stephen said. Cordelia... yes. Synge has promised me an article for Dana too. A knight of the rueful countenance here in Dublin. If he considers it important it will go in. rising. We have so much correspondence. it seems. If you will be so kind as to give the letter to Mr Norman . Now your best French polish.Ulysses tonight. 345 of 1305 . Thanks. Moore is the man for it. I hope you will come round tonight. —I understand. Dr Sigerson says. Stephen said.

hiding. Stephen said. So you think . walking lonely in the chase. all. frighted of the narrow grave and unforgiven. He creaked to and fro. 346 of 1305 . Blushing. Fox and geese. his mask said: —Mr Dedalus. there must have been first a sundering. a whore of Babylon. ladies of justices. said low: —Is it your view. Christfox in leather trews. The door closed behind the outgoer. —Yes. from hue and cry. —Yes. Women he won to him. Why did he come? Courtesy or an inward light? —Where there is a reconciliation. And in New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely. tiptoing up nearer heaven by the altitude of a chopine. The quaker librarian came from the leavetakers. your views are most illuminating.Ulysses Stephen sat down.. bare. as fresh as cinnamon. Knowing no vixen. covered by the noise of outgoing.. and. now her leaves falling. a runaway in blighted treeforks. bully tapsters’ wives. tender people. that she was not faithful to the poet? Alarmed face asks me. once as sweet. then.

Others abide our question. to tell me in my ear a maudlin tale. We know nothing but that he lived and suffered. of all great men he is the most enigmatic. moonycrowned. Still: but an itch of death is in them. A shadow hangs over all the rest. A vestal’s lamp.Ulysses Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell. embalmed in spice of words. —Certainly. —But Hamlet is so personal. a birdgod. in mummycases.. And I heard the voice of that Egyptian highpriest. I mean. rest of warm and brooding air. 347 of 1305 . don’t you know. isn’t it? Mr Best pleaded.. god of libraries. who is killed or who is guilty . of his private life. Not even so much. They are still. Thoth. don’t you know. I mean. In painted chambers loaded with tilebooks. a kind of private paper. Once quick in the brains of men. I don’t care a button. urge me to wreak their will. Coffined thoughts around me. John Eglinton mused. 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.

His private papers in the original. Ta an bad ar an tir. smiling his defiance. Messer Brunetto. Taim in mo shagart. their molecules shuttled to and fro. so through the ghost of the unquiet father the image of the unliving son looks forth. Put beurla on it. so does the artist weave and unweave his image. 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. Stephen withstood the bane of miscreant eyes glinting stern under wrinkled brows. I thank thee for the word. And as the mole on my right breast is where it was when I was born. littlejohn. Bear with me. though all my body has been woven of new stuff time after time. E quando vede l’uomo l’attosca. Stephen said. Shelley says.Ulysses He rested an innocent book on the edge of the desk. In the intense instant of imagination. from day to day. is a fading coal. when the mind. or mother Dana. that which I was is that which I am and that which in possibility I may come to 348 of 1305 . weave and unweave our bodies. —As we. A basilisk.

shipwrecked 349 of 1305 . I am in his son. Stephen said. The bitterness might be from the father but the passages with Ophelia are surely from the son. What softens the heart of a man.Ulysses be. —That mole is the last to go. The plays of Shakespeare’s later years which Renan admired so much breathe another spirit. if there has not been a sundering. —If that were the birthmark of genius. laughing. —If you want to know what are the events which cast their shadow over the hell of time of King Lear. Othello. the quaker librarian breathed. Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at that stile. —Yes. I feel Hamlet quite young. Mr Best said youngly. genius would be a drug in the market. look to see when and how the shadow lifts. the sister of the past. He is in my father. Troilus and Cressida. I may see myself as I sit here now but by reflection from that which then I shall be. Hamlet. Stephen said. So in the future. —The spirit of reconciliation. —There can be no reconciliation. John Eglinton made a nothing pleasing mow. Has the wrong sow by the lug. he said. Said that.

that which was lost. a child of storm. Perdita. The highroads are dreary but they lead to the town. Marina. sir. like another Ulysses. John Eglinton detected. How many miles to Dublin? Three score and ten. My dearest wife. buffeted. Booted the twain and staved. as the first play of the closing period. Will we be there by candlelight? —Mr Brandes accepts it. What was lost is given back to him: his daughter’s child. redconecapped. —A child. a wonder. Pericles. say of it? —Marina. Tried. Good Bacon: gone musty.. eon: Magee. Stephen said. good masters? Mummed in names: A. brineblinded. —The leaning of sophists towards the bypaths of apocrypha is a constant quantity. a girl. 350 of 1305 . Seekers on the great quest. prince of Tyre? Head. or Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name is. East of the sun. Cypherjugglers going the highroads. Shakespeare Bacon’s wild oats. What town. Stephen said. placed in his arms. west of the moon: Tir na n-og. E.Ulysses in storms dire. John Eglinton. —Does he? What does Mr Sidney Lee. Miranda.

Mr George Bernard Shaw. with the memory of his own youth added. was like this maid. I own that if the poet 351 of 1305 . Mr Best gan murmur.Ulysses Pericles says.. —Will he not see reborn in her. Amor vero aliquid alicui bonum vult unde et ea quae concupiscimus . Such an appeal will touch him. His articles on Shakespeare in the Saturday Review were surely brilliant.. —I hope Mr Dedalus will work out his theory for the enlightenment of the public. l’art d’être grand . Oddly enough he too draws for us an unhappy relation with the dark lady of the sonnets. The benign forehead of the quaker librarian enkindled rosily with hope. another image? Do you know what you are talking about? Love. 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. earl of Pembroke. yes.. —His own image to a man with that queer thing genius is the standard of all experience. material and moral. Will any man love the daughter if he has not loved the mother? —The art of being a grandfather. And we ought to mention another Irish commentator.. Nor should we forget Mr Frank Harris. Word known to all men. The favoured rival is William Herbert.

Stephen said. Why? Belief in himself has been untimely killed. a 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. I feel in the words. Miriam? Dost love thy man? —That may be too. He was overborne in a cornfield first (ryefield. There is. I should say) and he will never be a victor in his own eyes after nor play victoriously the game of laugh and lie down. prize of their fray.Ulysses 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. a maid of honour with a scandalous girlhood. If the shrew is worsted yet there remains to her woman’s invisible weapon. a bay where all men ride. Beware of what you wish for in youth because you will get it in middle life. Dost love. He thous and thees her with grave husbandwords. Why does he send to one who is a buonaroba. Felicitously he ceased and held a meek head among them. some goad of the flesh driving him into a new passion. Assumed dongiovannism will not save him. a 352 of 1305 . auk’s egg. There’s a saying of Goethe’s which Mr Magee likes to quote. The tusk of the boar has wounded him there where love lies ableeding. No later undoing will undo the first undoing.

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. darkening even his own understanding of himself. the sea’s voice. with its mole cinquespotted. go with him from Lucrece’s bluecircled ivory globes to Imogen’s breast. backward. untaught by the wisdom he has written or by the laws he has revealed. an old dog licking an old sore. He is a ghost. —The soul has been before stricken mortally. weary of the creation he has piled up to hide him from himself. That is why the speech (his lean unlovely English) is always turned elsewhere. 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. He goes back. They list. Ravisher and ravished. he passes on towards eternity in undiminished personality. a poison poured in the porch of a sleeping ear. And in the porches of their ears I pour. His beaver is up. bare. But. because loss is his gain. a voice heard only in the heart of him who is 353 of 1305 . a shadow now. A like fate awaits him and the two rages commingle in a whirlpool. what he would but would not. the wind by Elsinore’s rocks or what you will.Ulysses darker shadow of the first.

He Who Himself begot middler the Holy Ghost and Himself sent Himself. starved on crosstree. fared into heaven and there these nineteen hundred years sitteth on the right hand of His Own Self but yet shall 354 of 1305 . if I mistake not? he asked of Stephen.Ulysses the substance of his shadow. Who. Who let Him bury. Brood of mockers: Photius. the son consubstantial with the father. Buck Mulligan came forward. between Himself and others. Hast thou found me. —Amen! was responded from the doorway. stripped and whipped. towards the greeting of their smiles. Johann Most. sullen as a dean’s. Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his doffed Panama as with a bauble. A ribald face. pseudomalachi. Was Du verlachst wirst Du noch dienen. O mine enemy? Entr’acte. harrowed hell. They make him welcome. put upon by His fiends. stood up. then blithe in motley. was nailed like bat to barndoor. Agenbuyer. —You were speaking of the gaseous vertebrate. My telegram.

The chap that writes like Synge. John Eglinton answered. C. Was he here? —The bard’s fellowcountrymen. the quaker librarian said. indeed. —To be sure. I’ll be bound. are rather tired perhaps of our brilliancies of theorising. puzzled: —Shakespeare? he said. has his theory too of the play and of Shakespeare. All sides of life should be represented. remembering brightly.Ulysses come in the latter day to doom the quick and dead when all the quick shall be dead already. Mr Best turned to him. he said. I hear that an actress played Hamlet for the 355 of 1305 . Buck Mulligan said. A flying sunny smile rayed in his loose features. Did you meet him? He’ll see you after at the D. O. he said. B. I seem to know the name. He’s gone to Gill’s to buy Hyde’s Lovesongs of Connacht. Buck Mulligan thought. —Yes. flowers! Bells with bells with bells aquiring. He smiled on all sides equally. A most instructive discussion. Mr Mulligan. —Haines missed you. Veils fall. Glo—o—ri—a in ex—cel—sis De—o. —I came through the museum. He lifts his hands.

: who am I? —I mean. Three drams of usquebaugh you drank with Dan Deasy’s ducats. He swears (His Highness not His Lordship) by saint Patrick. Hughes and hews and hues. That Portrait of Mr W. but it’s so typical the way he works it out. is searching for some clues. I believe. —The most brilliant of all is that story of Wilde’s. a blond ephebe. a man all hues. Tame essence of Wilde. H. —For Willie Hughes. The light touch. Has no-one made him out to be an Irishman? Judge Barton. where he proves that the sonnets were written by a Willie Hughes.Ulysses fourhundredandeighth time last night in Dublin. for Willie Hughes. is it not? the quaker librarian asked. His glance touched their faces lightly as he smiled. 356 of 1305 . don’t you know. How much did I spend? O. You’re darned witty. It’s the very essence of Wilde. amending his gloss easily. For a plump of pressmen. Mr Best said. the colour. W. lifting his brilliant notebook. Or Hughie Wills? Mr William Himself. don’t you know. Of course it’s all paradox. H. Vining held that the prince was a woman. Mr Best said. Humour wet and dry. a few shillings.

In pairing time. he came near. Where did you launch it from? The kips? No. Naked wheatbellied sin. You would give your five wits for youth’s proud livery he pranks in. Yea. —Telegram! he said. College Green. reading aloud joyfully: —The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a thing done. The mocker is never taken seriously when he is most serious. turtledove her. Buck Mulligan’s again heavy face eyed Stephen awhile. There be many mo. smiling with new delight. They talked seriously of mocker’s seriousness. his head wagging. Wonderful inspiration! Telegram! A papal bull! He sat on a corner of the unlit desk.Ulysses Wit. Take her for me. Eve. —Do you think it is only a paradox? the quaker librarian was asking. His mobile lips read. Lineaments of gratified desire. Have you drunk the four quid? The aunt is going to call on your unsubstantial father. fang in’s kiss. drew a folded telegram from his pocket. Jove. Telegram! Malachi 357 of 1305 . a cool ruttime send them. Signed: Dedalus. Then. A snake coils her.

Quickly. That was your contribution to literature. Stephen laughed. 358 of 1305 . And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery’s sitting civil waiting for pints apiece. Buck Mulligan gleefully bent back. —Me! Stephen exclaimed. you peerless mummer! O. warningfully Buck Mulligan bent down. I’m thinking. —The tramper Synge is looking for you. to murder you. mavrone. ‘Twas murmur we did for a gallus potion would rouse a friar. laughing to the dark eavesdropping ceiling. mister honey. He wailed: —And we to be there. Haines and myself. and 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. He heard you pissed on his halldoor in Glasthule. it’s queer and sick we were. the time himself brought it in. The Ship. He’s out in pampooties to murder you. you priestified Kinchite! Joyfully he thrust message and envelope into a pocket but keened in a querulous brogue: —It’s what I’m telling you. he said. and he limp with leching. lower Abbey street. O.Ulysses Mulligan.

creaked.. the attendant said. wandering. Harsh gargoyle face that warred against me over our mess of hash of lights in rue Saint-André-des-Arts. 359 of 1305 . — . He wants to see the files of the Kilkenny People for last year. C’est vendredi saint! Murthering Irish. Faunman he met in Clamart woods. in which everyone can find his own. glanced. palabras. most fair. out. Yes? What is it? —There’s a gentleman here. From the Freeman. Oisin with Patrick. an attendant said from the door ajar. O. He took the eager card. —Certainly. In words of words for words. asked: —Is he? . Is the gentleman? ... So Mr Justice Madden in his Diary of Master William Silence has found the hunting terms . not saw. I met a fool i’the forest. he met. laid down unglanced. sir. certainly. I mine. looked... brandishing a winebottle.. there! Brisk in a galliard he was off.. —Mr Lyster. most kind.Ulysses —Murder you! he laughed.. in duty bound. coming forward and offering a card. In the daylit corridor he talked with voluble pains of zeal. certainly. His image. most honest broadbrim. asked.

Enniscorthy Guardian.... is no more. Good day. dutiful. listening.. The Greek mouth that has never been twisted in prayer. O. Voluble.. A patient silhouette waited. he led the way to all the provincial papers.... He rattled on: —Jehovah. sir .. conduct this gentleman . I fear me. Northern Whig. If you just follow the atten .Ulysses —This gentleman? Freeman’s Journal? Kilkenny People? To be sure. Every day we must do homage to her. thy lips enkindle... please allow me . 1903 . collector of prepuces. We have certainly . He jumped up and snatched the card... I found him over in the museum where I went to hail the foamborn Aphrodite.. The door closed. This way . His pale Galilean eyes 360 of 1305 . He knows your old fellow. Kilkenny .. Suddenly he turned to Stephen: —He knows you. —What’s his name? Ikey Moses? Bloom. Please.. Life of life. —All the leading provincial ..... —The sheeny! Buck Mulligan cried. Will you please? . sir. he is Greeker than the Greeks. Cork Examiner. a bowing dark figure following his hasty heels. Evans. Or.

during part of that time. O. The gombeenwoman Eliza Tudor had underlinen enough to vie with her of Sheba. His art. Twenty years he dallied there between conjugial love and its chaste delights and scortatory love and its foul pleasures. His life was rich. Venus Kallipyge. took the palm of beauty from Kyrios Menelaus’ brooddam. Hot herringpies. the thunder of those loins! The god pursuing the maiden hid. Twenty years he lived in London and. if at all. honeysauces. is the art of surfeit. —Antisthenes. —We want to hear more. had half a million francs on his back including a pair of fancy stays. 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 361 of 1305 . as a patient Griselda. and handed it to poor Penelope. ringocandies. the wooden mare of Troy in whom a score of heroes slept. a Penelope stayathome. pupil of Gorgias. John Eglinton decided with Mr Best’s approval. sugar of roses. We begin to be interested in Mrs S. Argive Helen. gooseberried pigeons. green mugs of sack. more than the art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it. Till now we had thought of her. Sir Walter Raleigh. Stephen said. marchpane.Ulysses were upon her mesial groove. he drew a salary equal to that of the lord chancellor of Ireland. when they arrested him.

But all those twenty years what do you suppose poor Penelope in Stratford was doing behind the diamond panes? Do and do. Nous ferons de petites cochonneries. mount and cry O. In a rosery of Fetter lane of Gerard. mistress Fitton. And other lady friends from neighbour seats as Lawn Tennyson. violets. answered from the capon’s blankets: William the conqueror came before Richard III. his pious eyes upturned. Thing done. overhearing. And the gay lakin. gentleman poet. greyedauburn. Encore vingt sous. when Burbage came knocking at the gate. and his dainty birdsnies. He 362 of 1305 . Buck Mulligan. sings. a clean quality woman is suited for a player. he walks. took the cow by the horns and. Minette? Tu veux? —The height of fine society. lady Penelope Rich. prayed: —Blessed Margaret Mary Anycock! —And Harry of six wives’ daughter. herbalist. and the punks of the bankside. without more ado about nothing. Lids of Juno’s eyes. a penny a time. And sir William Davenant of oxford’s mother with her cup of canary for any cockcanary. An azured harebell like her veins.Ulysses and how Shakespeare. Cours la Reine.

—The burden of proof is with you not with me. he had a midwife to mother as he had a shrew to wife. I take it. —It seems so. —Say that he is the spurned lover in the sonnets. Afar. Maybe. Sweet Ann. But the court wanton spurned him for a lord. he loved a lord. he said frowning. and for all other and singular uneared wombs. Do. like Socrates. his dearmylove. deceased husband’s brother. One life is all. Once a wooer. the holy office an ostler does for the stallion. you mean. the giglot wanton. John sturdy Eglinton put in. —Whom do you suspect? he challenged. At Charenton I watched them. Old wall where sudden lizards flash. in a reek of lust and squalor. Once spurned twice spurned. did not break a bedvow. twice a wooer. One body. when he wants to do for him. But she. Stephen said. But do. was hot in the blood. Two deeds are rank in that ghost’s mind: a broken vow and the dullbrained yokel on whom her favour has declined. If you deny that in the fifth scene of Hamlet 363 of 1305 . Love that dare not speak its name. hands are laid on whiteness. Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton’s desk sharply. —As an Englishman. Stephen turned boldly in his chair.Ulysses walks.

her four brothers. She was entitled to her widow’s dower At common law. when he went and died on her. Susan. her poor dear Willun. All those women saw their men down and under: Mary. yes. by jurists. O. His legal knowledge was 364 of 1305 . Ann. while Susan’s daughter. 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. I believe. to use granddaddy’s words. He faced their silence. Joan. Explain the swansong too wherein he has commended her to posterity. her husband too. her goodman John. wed her second. mention there is. To whom thus Eglinton: You mean the will. Judith.Ulysses 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. Elizabeth. But that has been explained. having killed her first. raging that he was the first to go. her husband and all her sons.

for his daughters. As I believe. for his old cronies in Stratford And in London.Ulysses great Our judges tell us. Mocker: And therefore he left out her name From the first draft but he did not leave out The presents for his granddaughter. Punkt. Woa! 365 of 1305 . For his sister. Leftherhis Secondbest Leftherhis Bestabed Secabest Leftabed. to name her He left her his Secondbest Bed. Him Satan fleers. And therefore when he was urged.

bettered Buck Mulligan and was smiled on. bedsmiling. Stephen said. Mr Secondbest Best said finely... Let me think. Second Eglinton puckered. pays tribute to his elders. —Antiquity mentions famous beds. —Do you mean he died so? Mr Best asked with slight concern. a bill promoter. 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 beds. with a coat of arms and landed estate at Stratford and a house in Ireland yard.Ulysses —Pretty countryfolk had few chattels then. who when dying in exile frees and endows his slaves. wills 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. 366 of 1305 . a best and a secondbest. —Separatio a mensa et a thalamo. —Antiquity mentions that Stagyrite schoolurchin and bald heathen sage. Stephen said. John Eglinton observed. I mean . a tithefarmer. as they have still if our peasant plays are true to type. a capitalist shareholder. —He was a rich country gentleman.

. —Lovely! Buck Mulligan suspired amorously.Ulysses —He died dead drunk. He drew Shylock out of his own long pocket. For terms apply: E. Highfield house . The son of a maltjobber and moneylender he was himself a cornjobber and moneylender. limited. the palm of beauty? —And the sense of property. William Shakespeare and company. Dowden. O. from me. The people’s William. Buck Mulligan capped. —The sense of beauty leads us astray. I must tell you what Dowden said! —What? asked Besteglinton. said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton. Sayest thou so? Will they wrest from us. with ten tods of corn hoarded in the famine riots. Steadfast John replied severe: —The doctor can tell us what those words mean. Stephen said. I asked him what he thought of the charge of pederasty brought against the bard.. A quart of ale is a dish for a king. Lovely! Catamite. You cannot eat your cake and have it. His borrowers are no doubt those divers of 367 of 1305 . He lifted his hands and said: All we can say is that life ran very high in those days.

How else could Aubrey’s ostler and callboy get rich quick? All events brought grist to his mill. minxi. The sugared sonnets follow Sidney’s. His pageants. mingere. let some meinherr from Almany grope his life long for deephid meanings in the depths of the buckbasket. his 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. Mingo. The Sea Venture comes home from Bermudas and the play Renan admired is written with Patsy Caliban. As for fay Elizabeth. otherwise carrotty Bess. mictum. Warwickshire jesuits are tried and we have a porter’s theory of equivocation. 368 of 1305 . the histories. Just mix up a mixture of theolologicophilolological. our American cousin. I think you’re getting on very nicely. the gross virgin who inspired The Merry Wives of Windsor. The lost armada is his jeer in Love’s Labour Lost. sail fullbellied on a tide of Mafeking enthusiasm. Shylock chimes with the jewbaiting that followed the hanging and quartering of the queen’s leech Lopez.Ulysses 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.

—Saint Thomas. Stephen replied. John Eglinton dared. as the champion French polisher of Italian scandals. —A myriadminded man. Stephen began . sinking to a chair. In societate humana hoc est maxime necessarium ut sit amicitia inter multos.’expectantly. Sufflaminandus sum. Stephen smiling said. Monk Mulligan groaned. —Ora pro nobis. Mr Best reminded. —Pogue mahone! Acushla machree! It’s destroyed we are from this day! It’s destroyed we are surely! All smiled their smiles. whose gorbellied works I enjoy reading in the original. writing of incest from a standpoint different from that of the new Viennese school Mr Magee spoke of. —He was made in Germany.Ulysses —Prove that he was a jew. it may be.. There he keened a wailing rune.. He means that the love so given to one near in blood is covetously withheld from some stranger who. —Saint Thomas. Amplius. Your dean of studies holds he was a holy Roman. Coleridge called him myriadminded. hungers for 369 of 1305 . likens it in his wise and curious way to an avarice of the emotions.

are of all races the most given to intermarriage. —Gentle Will is being roughly handled. —The will to live. Jews. 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. Accusations are made in anger. We are getting mixed. —Or his jennyass. —Requiescat! Stephen prayed. gentle Mr Best said gently. What of all the will to do? It has vanished long ago . for poor Ann. is the will to die. The christian laws which built up the hoards of the jews (for whom. as for the lollards. whom christians tax with avarice. Whether these be sins or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us at doomsday leet. Buck Mulligan antiphoned.. Will’s widow. —She lies laid out in stark stiffness in that secondbest bed. John Eglinton philosophised.Ulysses it. the mobled queen.. —Which will? gagged sweetly Buck Mulligan. storm was shelter) bound their affections too with hoops of steel. No sir smile neighbour shall covet his ox or his wife or his manservant or his maidservant or his jackass. even though you prove that a bed in those days was as rare as a motorcar is now and that its 370 of 1305 .

What do we care for his wife or father? I should say that only family poets have family lives.Ulysses carvings were the wonder of seven parishes. deny thy kindred. sir. Venus has twisted her lips in prayer. She read or had read to her his chapbooks preferring them to the Merry Wives and. he lay back. 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. A sire in Ultonian Antrim bade it him. Shy. But we have it on high authority that a man’s worst enemies shall be those of his own house and family. inquit Eglintonus Chronolologos. loosing her nightly waters on the jordan. he sneaks the cup. Mr Magee. Agenbite of inwit: remorse of conscience. the unco guid. Lean. —History shows that to be true. there’s a gentleman to see you. I feel that Russell is right. Visits him here on quarter days. The ages succeed one another. Falstaff was not a family man. Give me my 371 of 1305 . she thought over Hooks and Eyes for Believers’ Breeches and The most Spiritual Snuffbox to Make the Most Devout Souls Sneeze. Me? Says he’s your father. I feel that the fat knight is his supreme creation. Shy. It is an age of exhausted whoredom groping for its god. supping with the godless. sir.

disarmed of fatherhood. is the beardless undergraduate from Wittenberg then you must hold that his seventyyear old mother is the lustful queen. is unknown to man. a greying man with two marriageable daughters. in strossers with a buttoned codpiece. From hour to hour it rots and rots. is a necessary evil. Your own? He knows your old fellow. nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita. It is a mystical estate. If you hold that he. his nether stocks bemired with clauber of ten forests. in the sense of conscious begetting. Hurrying to her squalid deathlair from gay Paris on the quayside I touched his hand. He rests. having devised that mystical estate upon his son. Stephen said. a wand of wilding in his hand. Enter Magee Mor Matthew.Ulysses Wordsworth. Fatherhood. He wrote the play in the months that followed his father’s death. The widower. with thirtyfive years of life. an apostolic succession. Boccaccio’s Calandrino was the first and last man who felt himself with child. new warmth. The eyes that wish me well. a rugged rough rugheaded kern. —A father. But do not know me. speaking. The corpse of John Shakespeare does not walk the night. with fifty of experience. The voice. Dr Bob Kenny is attending her. from only begetter to only begotten. battling against hopelessness. No. On that 372 of 1305 .

hardly record its breach. Adhuc. Amplius. jailbirds with keyholes. —What links them in nature? An instant of blind rut. upon the void. Blast you. increases care. Are you condemned to do this? —They are sundered by a bodily shame so steadfast that the criminal annals of the world. like the world. macro and microcosm. Paternity may be a legal fiction. queens with prize bulls. nephews with grandmothers. Upon incertitude. I have reasons. his youth his father’s envy. Amor matris. Iterum. upon unlikelihood. Shut up. Postea. He is a new male: his growth is his father’s decline. sires with daughters. lesbic sisters. he brings pain. In rue Monsieur-le-Prince I thought it. loves that dare not speak their name. The son unborn mars beauty: born. subjective and objective genitive. 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. may be the only true thing in life. stained with all other incests and bestialities. 373 of 1305 .Ulysses 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 founded. his friend his father’s enemy. Sons with mothers. divides affection.

by the same token. Sonmulligan told himself. with whom no word shall be impossible. Flatter. Wait. for nature. being no more a son. the father of his own grandfather. Gladly glancing. The bulldog of Aquin. Rarely. Pallas Athena! A play! The play’s the thing! Let me parturiate! 374 of 1305 . —Sabellius. I am big with child. Eglintoneyes. quick with pleasure. held that the Father was Himself His Own Son. the father of his unborn grandson who. through the twisted eglantine. subtlest heresiarch of all the beasts of the field. But flatter. a merry puritan. I have an unborn child in my brain.Ulysses Am I a father? If I were? Shrunken uncertain hand. —Himself his own father. as Mr Magee understands her. looked up shybrightly. 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 but. never was born. the African. abhors perfection. he was and felt himself the father of all his race. refutes him.

I you he they. They. Stephen said. 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. fleshpot of Egypt. is Hamnet Shakespeare.Ulysses He clasped his paunchbrow with both birthaiding hands. quaking. tiptoed in. Gilbert. in Winter’s Tale are we know. The quaker librarian. His boyson’s death is the deathscene of young Arthur in King John. and Cressid and Venus are we may guess. Cell. Who Cleopatra. Three. Her death brought from him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus. —The plot thickens. quake. Hamlet. They list. STEPHEN: He had three brothers. quake. —As for his family. But there is another member of his family who is recorded. quake. mess. the black prince. John Eglinton said. Come. his mask. in Pericles. his mother’s name lives in the forest of Arden. Who the girls in The Tempest. He is nowhere: but 375 of 1305 . Richard. Door closed. The playhouse sausage filled Gilbert’s soul. quack. Day. Edmund. with haste.

a clown 376 of 1305 . that last play was written or being written while his brother Edmund lay dying in Southwark.... William. two bear the wicked uncles’ names. in the plays.. (Laughter) QUAKERLYSTER: (A tempo) But he that filches from me my good name .Ulysses an Edmund and a Richard are recorded in the works of sweet William. I don’t want Richard. the villain shakebags. diminuendo) Then outspoke medical Dick To his comrade medical Davy . don’t you know. Iago. Richard. for my sake. STEPHEN: (Stringendo) He has hidden his own name. Edmund in King Lear.. my name . BEST: I hope Edmund is going to catch it. (Laughter) BUCKMULLIGAN: (Piano. MAGEEGLINJOHN: Names! What’s in a name? BEST: That is my name. don’t you know. a super here. STEPHEN: In his trinity of black Wills.. Richard Crookback. a fair name. I hope you are going to say a good word for Richard. Nay.

as a painter of old Italy set his face in a dark corner of his canvas.Ulysses there. as he walked by the slumberous summer fields at midnight returning from Shottery and from her arms. Ay. on a bend sable a spear or steeled argent. a daystar. cut the 377 of 1305 . Don’t tell them he was nine years old when it was quenched. honorificabilitudinitatibus. Stephen. And from her arms. and by night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia. dearer than his glory of greatest shakescene in the country. Wait to be wooed and won. Both satisfied. the recumbent constellation which is the signature of his initial among the stars. lowlying on the horizon. Bous Stephanoumenos. brighter than Venus in the night. eastward of the bear. a firedrake. I too. as dear as the coat and crest he toadied for. Where’s your configuration? Stephen. It shone by day in the heavens alone. A star. meacock. Who will woo you? Read the skies. Like John o’Gaunt his name is dear to him. Autontimorumenos. His eyes watched it. What’s in a name? That is what we ask ourselves in childhood when we write the name that we are told is ours. He has revealed it in the sonnets where there is Will in overplus. rose at his birth.

his stick. My sword. his boots. Pater. The hawklike man. The three brothers Shakespeare. A pillar of the cloud by day. Your own name is strange enough. Lapwing. Magee and Mulligan. Just what you say. S. Paris and back. ait. Mr Best eagerquietly lifted his book to say: —That’s very interesting because that brother motive. Stephanos. Icarus. John Eglinton allowed. Stephen said. Handkerchief too. You flew. Whereto? Newhaven-Dieppe. Lapwing be. don’t you know. Mr Dedalus? the quaker librarian asked. Fabulous artificer. weltering. D. steerage passenger. I suppose it explains your fantastical humour. In Grimm 378 of 1305 . —What is that. Già: di lui. Seabedabbled. Buy a pair. Me. we find also in the old Irish myths.Ulysses bread even. His boots are spoiling the shape of my feet. Holes in my socks. D: sua donna. What more’s to speak? Stephen looked on his hat. Was it a celestial phenomenon? —A star by night. gelindo risolve di non amare S. my crown. fallen. —You make good use of the name. Lapwing you are.

Best of Best brothers. Lapwing. which brother you . 379 of 1305 . Let us hear what you have to say of Richard and Edmund. The quaker librarian springhalted near. he said. A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.Ulysses too. —O.. Swiftly rectly creaking rectly rectly he was rectly gone. Mulligan: now these. My whetstone. Him. The third brother that always marries the sleeping beauty and wins the best prize. An attendant from the doorway called: —Mr Lyster! Father Dineen wants .. didn’t you? —In asking you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie and nuncle Edmund. best. John Eglinton touched the foil... —I should like to know. Where is your brother? Apothecaries’ hall. then Cranly. But perhaps I am anticipating? He caught himself in the act: looked at all: refrained. better.. —Come. don’t you know. I understand you to suggest there was misconduct with one of the brothers . the fairytales. I feel I am asking too much perhaps. he said. Stephen answered. Good. Father Dineen! Directly.. You kept them for the last.

He puts Bohemia on the seacoast and makes Ulysses quote Aristotle. Why did he take them rather than others? Richard. —You will say those names were already in the chronicles from which he took the stuff of his plays. 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 way. the angel of the world. the voice of Esau. Lapwing. a whoreson crookback. makes love to a widowed Ann (what’s in a name?). Act speech. a whoreson merry widow. Be acted on. Que voulez-vous? Moore would say. The other four acts of that play hang limply from that first. I am tired of my voice. My kingdom for a drink. John Eglinton defended. 380 of 1305 . came after William the conquered. speech. Act. woos and wins her. Of all his kings Richard is the only king unshielded by Shakespeare’s reverence. On.Ulysses Speech. third brother. They mock to try you. But act. misbegotten. Richard the conqueror. We should not now combine a Norse saga with an excerpt from a novel by George Meredith.

An original sin and. The note of banishment. repeats itself. buries it certain fathoms in the earth and drowns his book. in The Tempest.Ulysses —Why? Stephen answered himself. reflects itself in another. The words are those of my lords bishops of Maynooth. it is petrified on his tombstone under which her four bones are not to be laid. in Much Ado about Nothing. twice in As you like It. 381 of 1305 . sounds uninterruptedly from The Two Gentlemen of Verona onward till Prospero breaks his staff. weakened his will and left in him a strong inclination to evil. in Measure for Measure—and in all the other plays which I have not read. catastrophe. But it was the original sin that darkened his understanding. banishment from the heart. in Hamlet. protasis. It repeats itself again when he is near the grave. It is in infinite variety everywhere in the world he has created. banishment from home. Age has not withered it. when his married daughter Susan. epitasis. It doubles itself in the middle of his life. always with him. like original sin. chip of the old block. It is between the lines of his last written words. is accused of adultery. committed by another in whose sin he too has sinned. what the poor are not. catastasis. Beauty and peace have not done it away. Because the theme of the false or the usurping or the adulterous brother or all three in one is to Shakespeare.

Stephen said. All in all. his journey of life ended. When all is said Dumas fils (or is it Dumas père?) is right. He returns after a life of absence to that spot of earth where he was born. with 382 of 1305 . Lover of an ideal or a perversion. He is all in all. In Cymbeline. —He is. —The truth is midway. he affirmed. The motion is ended. He acts and is acted on. —And what a character is Iago! undaunted John Eglinton exclaimed. a silent witness and there. After God Shakespeare has created most. —Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuck Mulligan clucked lewdly.Ulysses He laughed to free his mind from his mind’s bondage. —Man delights him not nor woman neither. man and boy. Gravediggers bury Hamlet père?) and Hamlet fils. O word of fear! Dark dome received. like Jose he kills the real Carmen. Judge Eglinton summed up. in Othello he is bawd and cuckold. A king and a prince at last in death. Stephen said. where he has always been. The boy of act one is the mature man of act five. he plants his mulberrytree in the earth. Then dies. reverbed. His unremitting intellect is the hornmad Iago ceaselessly willing that the moor in him shall suffer. He is the ghost and the prince.

widows. an androgynous angel. but 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). Maeterlinck says: If Socrates leave his house today he will find the sage seated on his doorstep. being a wife unto himself. ghosts. Strong curtain. hangman god. what though murdered and betrayed. 383 of 1305 . bewept by all frail tender hearts for. the lord of things as they are whom the most Roman of catholics call dio boia. giants. meeting robbers. young men. And. old men. the good man rewarded. is doubtless all in all in all of us. He found in the world without as actual what was in his world within as possible. wives. Dane or Dubliner. Lizzie. We walk through ourselves. grandpa’s lump of love. sorrow for the dead is the only husband from whom they refuse to be divorced. and would be bawd and cuckold too but that in the economy of heaven. day after day.Ulysses incidental music. If you like the epilogue look long on it: prosperous Prospero. and nuncle Richie. Every life is many days. If Judas go forth tonight it is to Judas his steps will tend. brothers-in-love. glorified man. the bad man taken off by poetic justice to the place where the bad niggers go. there are no more marriages. ostler and butcher. foretold by Hamlet.

—Are you going to write it? Mr Best asked. Take some slips from the counter going out. Dowden believes there is some mystery in Hamlet 384 of 1305 . of arts a bachelor. —May I? he said. Unwed. all save one. He began to scribble on a slip of paper. Mr Best. Eureka! Suddenly happied he jumped up and reached in a stride John Eglinton’s desk. —Well. The rest shall keep as they are. —Those who are married. He laughed. at Eglinton Johannes. Stephen said promptly. in that case. like the Platonic dialogues Wilde wrote. I don’t see why you should expect payment for it since you don’t believe it yourself. he said. they fingerponder nightly each his variorum edition of The Taming of the Shrew. shall live. unfancied. don’t you know. You ought to make it a dialogue. Do you believe your own theory? —No. unmarried. —You are a delusion.Ulysses —Eureka! Buck Mulligan cried. The Lord has spoken to Malachi. douce herald. John Eclecticon doubly smiled. said roundly John Eglinton to Stephen. ware of wiles. said. You have brought us all this way to show us a French triangle.

the coalquay whore. you can publish this interview. Piper says. laughing: and then gravely said. He is going to visit the present duke. Fred Ryan wants space for an article on economics. But he believes his theory. Buck Mulligan stood up from his laughing scribbling. Fresh Nelly and Rosalie. Stephen said. It will come as a surprise to his grace. I believe. 385 of 1305 . That is. Fraidrine. —You are the only contributor to Dana who asks for pieces of silver. O Lord. Herr Bleibtreu. the man Piper met in Berlin. help me to believe or help me to unbelieve? Who helps to believe? Egomen. and prove to him that his ancestor wrote the plays. —For a guinea.Ulysses but will say no more. help my unbelief. Two pieces of silver he lent me. Then I don’t know about the next number. believes that the secret is hidden in the Stratford monument. Tide you over. Who to unbelieve? Other chap. honeying 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 ladies. who is working up that Rutland theory. Economics.


He broke away. —Come, Kinch. Come, wandering Aengus of the birds. Come, Kinch. 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 tonight, John Eglinton said. Notre ami Moore says Malachi Mulligan must be there. Buck Mulligan flaunted his slip and panama. —Monsieur Moore, he said, lecturer on French letters to the youth of Ireland. I’ll be there. Come, Kinch, the bards must drink. Can you walk straight? Laughing, he ... 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. Stephen, greeting, then all amort, followed a lubber jester, a wellkempt head, newbarbered, out of the vaulted cell into a shattering daylight of no thought. What have I learned? Of them? Of me? Walk like Haines now. 386 of 1305


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 do, sir ... I shall be most pleased ... Amused Buck Mulligan mused in pleasant murmur with himself, selfnodding: —A pleased bottom. The turnstile. Is that? ... Blueribboned hat ... Idly writing ... What? Looked? ... The curving balustrade: smoothsliding Mincius. Puck Mulligan, panamahelmeted, went step by step, iambing, trolling: John Eglinton, my jo, John, Why won’t you wed a wife? He spluttered to the air: —O, the chinless Chinaman! Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton. We went over to their playbox, Haines and I, the 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.

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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 pleasure, Phedo’s toyable fair hair. Eh ... I just eh ... wanted ... I forgot ... he ... —Longworth and M’Curdy Atkinson were there ... Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: 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. Halted, below me, a quizzer looks at me. I halt.

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—Mournful mummer, Buck Mulligan moaned. Synge has left off wearing black to be like nature. Only crows, priests and English coal are black. A laugh tripped over his lips. —Longworth is awfully sick, he said, after 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 down, mopping, chanting 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 mummers, he said solemnly. The pillared Moorish hall, shadows 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)

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by Ballocky Mulligan He turned a happy patch’s smirk to Stephen, saying: —The disguise, I fear, is thin. But listen. He read, marcato: —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 laughed, lolling a to and fro head, walking on, followed by Stephen: and mirthfully he told the shadows, souls of men: —O, the 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, multicoloured, multitudinous vomit!

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—The most innocent son of Erin, Stephen said, for whom they ever lifted them. About to pass through the doorway, feeling one behind, he stood aside. Part. The moment is now. Where then? If Socrates leave his house today, if Judas go forth tonight. Why? That lies in space which I in time must come to, ineluctably. My will: his will that fronts me. Seas between. A man passed out between them, bowing, greeting. —Good day again, Buck 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 jew, Buck Mulligan whispered with clown’s awe. Did you see his eye? He looked upon you to lust after you. I fear thee, ancient mariner. O, Kinch, thou art in peril. Get thee a breechpad. Manner of Oxenford. Day. Wheelbarrow sun over arch of bridge. A dark back went before them, step of a pard, down, out by the gateway, under portcullis barbs. 391 of 1305


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 ascended, pluming, and 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 superior, the 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 him, if possible. Good practical catholic: useful at mission time. A onelegged sailor, swinging himself onward by lazy jerks of his crutches, growled some notes. He jerked short before the convent of the sisters of charity and held out a 392 of 1305


peaked cap for alms towards the very reverend John Conmee S. J. Father Conmee blessed him in the sun for his purse held, he knew, one silver crown. Father Conmee crossed to Mountjoy square. He thought, but not for long, of soldiers and sailors, whose legs had been shot off by cannonballs, ending their days in some pauper ward, and 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 well, indeed, father. And you, father? Father Conmee was wonderfully well indeed. He would go to Buxton probably for the waters. And her boys, were 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 sitting, to be sure it was. Beautiful weather it was, delightful indeed. Yes, it 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

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remembered to Mr David Sheehy M.P. Yes, he would certainly call. —Good afternoon, Mrs Sheehy. Father Conmee doffed his silk hat and smiled, as he took leave, at the jet beads of her mantilla inkshining in the sun. And smiled yet again, in going. He had cleaned his teeth, he knew, with arecanut paste. Father Conmee walked and, walking, smiled 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 man, however. Really he was. And really did great good in. his way. Beyond a doubt. He loved Ireland, he said, and he loved the Irish. Of good family too would one think it? Welsh, were they not? O, lest 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. O, that was a very nice name to have.

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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 box, little man, he said. The boys sixeyed Father Conmee and laughed: —O, sir. —Well, let me see if you can post a letter, Father 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 Maginni, professor of dancing &c, in silk hat, slate frockcoat with silk facings, white kerchief tie, tight lavender trousers, canary gloves and pointed patent boots, walking 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’Guinness, stately, silverhaired, bowed to Father Conmee from the farther footpath along which she sailed. And Father Conmee smiled and saluted. How did she do? 395 of 1305


A fine carriage she had. Like Mary, queen of Scots, something. And to think that she was a pawnbroker! Well, now! 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. Surely, there 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 church, Portland row. For aged and virtuous females. Father Conmee raised his hat to the Blessed Sacrament. Virtuous: but occasionally they were also badtempered.

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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 that, unprepared. Still, an 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’s, the porkbutcher’s, Father Conmee observed pig’s puddings, white and black and red, lie neatly curled in tubes.

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Moored under the trees of Charleville Mall Father Conmee saw a turfbarge, a towhorse with pendent head, a bargeman with a hat of dirty straw seated amidships, smoking 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 church, upper Gardiner street, stepped on to an outward bound tram. Off an inward bound tram stepped the reverend Nicholas Dudley C. C. of saint Agatha’s church, north William street, on 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 tramcar, a blue ticket tucked with care in the eye of one plump kid glove, while four shillings, a 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 398 of 1305


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 wife, Father Conmee supposed. A tiny yawn opened the mouth of the wife of the gentleman with the glasses. She raised her small gloved fist, yawned 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 and, when it was about to go, an 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 that, as she had nearly passed the end of the penny fare, she was one of those good souls who had always to be told twice bless you, my child, that they have been absolved, pray for me. 399 of 1305


But they had so many worries in life, so many cares, poor 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 jesuit, Le Nombre des Élus, seemed 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 souls, created by God. It seemed to Father Conmee a pity that they should all be lost, a waste, if one might say. At the Howth road stop Father Conmee alighted, was saluted by the conductor and saluted in his turn. The Malahide road was quiet. It pleased Father Conmee, road 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 maid, wife and widow 400 of 1305


in one day. Those were old worldish days, loyal times in joyous townlands, old times in the barony. Father Conmee, walking, thought of his little book Old Times in the Barony and of the book that might be written about jesuit houses and of Mary Rochfort, daughter of lord Molesworth, first countess of Belvedere. A listless lady, no more young, walked alone the shore of lough Ennel, Mary, first countess of Belvedere, listlessly walking in the evening, not 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 fully, eiaculatio 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 he, her husband’s brother. Father Conmee thought of that tyrannous incontinence, needed however for man’s race on earth, and 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 drawingroom, ceiled with full fruit clusters. And the hands of a bride and of a bridegroom, noble to noble, were impalmed by Don John Conmee. 401 of 1305


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. Moutonner, the French said. A just and homely word. Father Conmee, reading his office, watched a flock of muttoning clouds over Rathcoffey. His thinsocked ankles were tickled by the stubble of Clongowes field. He walked there, reading in the evening, and heard the cries of the boys’ lines at their play, young 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 nones, walking and reading till he came to Res in Beati immaculati: Principium verborum tuorum veritas: in eternum omnia indicia iustitiae tuae.

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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 erect, went to it and, spinning it on its axle, viewed 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 doorcase, looking idly out. Father John Conmee stepped into the Dollymount tram on Newcomen bridge. Corny Kelleher locked his largefooted boots and gazed, his hat downtilted, chewing his blade of hay.

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Constable 57C, on his beat, stood to pass the time of day. —That’s a fine day, Mr Kelleher. —Ay, Corny Kelleher said. —It’s very close, the 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 evening, the constable said with bated breath.

***** A onelegged sailor crutched himself round MacConnell’s corner, skirting Rabaiotti’s icecream car, and jerked himself up Eccles street. Towards Larry O’Rourke, in shirtsleeves in his doorway, he growled unamiably: —For England ... He swung himself violently forward past Katey and Boody Dedalus, halted and growled: —home and beauty.

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J. J. O’Molloy’s white careworn face was told that Mr Lambert was in the warehouse with a visitor. A stout lady stopped, took a copper coin from her purse and dropped it into the cap held out to her. The sailor grumbled thanks, glanced sourly at the unheeding windows, sank his head and swung himself forward four strides. He halted and growled angrily: —For England ... Two barefoot urchins, sucking long liquorice laces, halted near him, gaping at his stump with their yellowslobbered mouths. He swung himself forward in vigorous jerks, halted, lifted his head towards a window and bayed deeply: —home and beauty. The gay sweet chirping whistling within went on a bar or two, ceased. The blind of the window was drawn aside. A card Unfurnished Apartments slipped from the sash and fell. A plump bare generous arm shone, was 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 it, picked it up and dropped it into the minstrel’s cap, saying: 405 of 1305


—There, sir.

***** 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 them, she said. Father Conmee walked through Clongowes fields, his 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. —Shirts, Maggy said. Boody cried angrily: —Crickey, is there nothing for us to eat? 406 of 1305


Katey, lifting the kettlelid in a pad of her stained skirt, asked: —And what’s in this? A heavy fume gushed in answer. —Peasoup, Maggy said. —Where did you get it? Katey asked. —Sister Mary Patrick, Maggy 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 Boody, said quietly, as her fingertip lifted to her mouth random crumbs: —A good job we have that much. Where’s Dilly? —Gone to meet father, Maggy said. Boody, breaking big chunks of bread into the yellow soup, added: —Our father who art not in heaven. Maggy, pouring yellow soup in Katey’s bowl, exclaimed: —Boody! For shame! A skiff, a crumpled throwaway, Elijah is coming, rode lightly down the Liffey, under Loopline bridge, shooting 407 of 1305


the rapids where water chafed around the bridgepiers, sailing 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 first, will you? he said. —Yes, sir, the blond girl said. And the fruit on top. —That’ll do, game ball, Blazes Boylan said. She bestowed fat pears neatly, head by tail, and among them ripe shamefaced peaches. Blazes Boylan walked here and there in new tan shoes about the fruitsmelling shop, lifting fruits, young juicy crinkled and plump red tomatoes, sniffing smells. H. E. L. Y.’S filed before him, tallwhitehatted, past Tangier lane, plodding towards their goal. He turned suddenly from a chip of strawberries, drew 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. 408 of 1305


—Certainly, sir. Is it in the city? —O, yes, Blazes Boylan said. Ten minutes. The blond girl handed him a docket and pencil. —Will you write the address, sir? Blazes Boylan at the counter wrote and pushed the docket to her. —Send it at once, will you? he said. It’s for an invalid. —Yes, sir. I will, sir. 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 him, got up regardless, with his tie a bit crooked, blushing. —Yes, sir, she said. Bending archly she reckoned again fat pears and blushing peaches. Blazes Boylan looked in her blouse with more favour, the stalk of the red flower between his smiling teeth.

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—May I say a word to your telephone, missy? he asked roguishly.

***** —Ma! Almidano Artifoni said. He gazed over Stephen’s shoulder at Goldsmith’s knobby poll. Two carfuls of tourists passed slowly, their 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 idee, ALMIDANO ARTIFONI SAID, quand’ ero giovine come Lei. Eppoi mi sono convinto che il mondo è una bestia. É peccato. Perchè la sua voce ... sarebbe un cespite di rendita, via. Invece, Lei si sacrifica. —Sacrifizio incruento, Stephen said smiling, swaying his ashplant in slow swingswong from its midpoint, lightly. —Speriamo, the round mustachioed face said pleasantly. Ma, dia retta a me. Ci rifletta. By the stern stone hand of Grattan, bidding halt, an Inchicore tram unloaded straggling Highland soldiers of a band. 410 of 1305


—Ci rifletterò, Stephen said, glancing down the solid trouserleg. —Ma, sul serio, eh? Almidano Artifoni said. His heavy hand took Stephen’s firmly. Human eyes. They gazed curiously an instant and turned quickly towards a Dalkey tram. —Eccolo, Almidano Artifoni said in friendly haste. Venga a trovarmi e ci pensi. Addio, caro. —Arrivederla, maestro, Stephen said, raising his hat when his hand was freed. E grazie. —Di che? Almidano Artifoni said. Scusi, eh? Tante belle cose! Almidano Artifoni, holding 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.

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I’ll ring them up after five. sir. Only those two. Hope to goodness he won’t keep me here till seven. scribbled on the jotter sixteens and capital esses. No.Ulysses Too much mystery business in it. Wonder will that fellow be at the band tonight. They kick out grand. Yes. Marion? Change it and get another by Mary Cecil Haye. sir. All right. sir. The disk shot down the groove. sir. E. L. and. listlessly lolling. —Hello. Miss Dunne clicked on the keyboard: —16 June 1904.’S and plodded back as they had come. Mustard hair and dauby cheeks. If I could get that dressmaker to make a concertina skirt like Susy Nagle’s. Then I can go after six if you’re not back. Is he in love with that one. Shannon and all the boatclub swells never took his eyes off her. sir. A 412 of 1305 . Then she stared at the large poster of Marie Kendall. The telephone rang rudely by her ear. Yes. She’s not nicelooking. ceased and ogled them: six. charming soubrette. for Belfast and Liverpool. eeled themselves turning H. is she? The way she’s holding up her bit of a skirt. Five tallwhitehatted sandwichmen between Monypeny’s corner and the slab where Wolfe Tone’s statue was not. Y. wobbled a while.

Jack. Yes: one. Ned Lambert said heartily. Come on. sir. She scribbled three figures on an envelope. —Hello. is that yourself? Ned Lambert said. —Mr Boylan! Hello! That gentleman from SPORT was in looking for you. yes. sir. 413 of 1305 . —How interesting! a refined accent said in the gloom. Twentyseven and six. a voice replied groping for foothold. sir. No. I’ll ring them up after five. —Who’s that? Ned Lambert asked. Yes. seven.Ulysses quarter after. Mr Lenehan. raising in salute his pliant lath among the flickering arches. Is that Crotty? —Ringabella and Crosshaven. Mind your steps there. six. We are standing in the historic council chamber of saint Mary’s abbey where silken Thomas proclaimed himself a rebel in 1534. ***** Two pink faces turned in the flare of the tiny torch. He said he’ll be in the Ormond at four. sir. 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. Yes. I’ll tell him. —Yes.

the refined accent said.. —Certainly. the clergyman said. tapping with his lath the piled seedbags and points of vantage on the floor. the next time to allow me perhaps .. 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. Ned Lambert said. —He rode down through Dame walk. 414 of 1305 . You were never here before. —That’s right. Mr Lambert. were you? —No. the clergyman said. Ned Lambert said. You can take it from here or from here. —If you will be so kind then. —I’m deeply obliged. I’ll get those bags cleared away from the windows. sir.Ulysses This is the most historic spot in all Dublin. That’s quite right. if my memory serves me.. The mansion of the Kildares was in Thomas court.. Jack. Ned. In the still faint light he moved about. O’Madden Burke is going to write something about it one of these days. I won’t trespass on your valuable time . From a long face a beard and gaze hung on a chessboard. Bring the camera whenever you like.

He followed his guest to the outlet and then whirled his lath away among the pillars. J. Ned Lambert said. —I thought you were at a new gunpowder plot. Present address: Saint Michael’s. The young woman with slow care detached from her light skirt a clinging twig. You know that one? I’m bloody sorry I did it. —God! he cried. Rathcoffey. Nice young chap he is. He’s writing a book about the Fitzgeralds he told me. Next week. —The reverend Hugh C. says he. Ned Lambert cracked his fingers in the air. Love. O’Connor. Ned Lambert answered.Ulysses —You’re welcome. Sallins. Drop in whenever you like. Good afternoon. J. With J. sir. He mightn’t like 415 of 1305 . —Pleasure is mine. J. yes. but I declare to God I thought the archbishop was inside. He stood to read the card in his hand. Can you see? —Yes. O’Molloy he came forth slowly into Mary’s abbey where draymen were loading floats with sacks of carob and palmnut meal. sir. say. He’s well up in history. Wexford. faith. O’Molloy said. Very pleased to have met you. I forgot to tell him that one about the earl of Kildare after he set fire to Cashel cathedral. Mr Lambert.

J..... Chow! .. Mother of Moses! ***** 416 of 1305 . blast your soul . Hold hard. Ned Lambert gasped. —No... He held his handkerchief ready for the coming . I caught a . though... poor little . Glasnevin this morning ... and there was a hell of a lot of draught . O’Molloy said politely. What is it? What’s the trouble? Wait awhile.. after an instant.. night before last . sneezed loudly. The horses he passed started nervously under their slack harness. Blast you! —The dust from those sacks. He slapped a piebald haunch quivering near him and cried: —Woa.. I’ll tell him anyhow.. the Geraldines.. what do you call him .. What? God. That was the great earl... With gaping mouth and head far back he stood still and. Jack. Hot members they were all of them. sonny! He turned to J. —I was . —Chow! he said.. the Fitzgerald Mor. O’Molloy and asked: —Well... J. J.Ulysses it. cold night before .

—See? he said. Turn Now On. haughty. He slid in a disk for himself: and watched it shoot. Leverage. ceased. Turn Now On. ogle. stop: four.Ulysses Tom Rochford took the top disk from the pile he clasped against his claret waistcoat. —Smart idea. wobbled a while. Say it’s turn six. snuffling. He slid it into the left slot for them. In here. wobble. Nosey Flynn said. 417 of 1305 . pleading. beheld pass from the consolidated taxing office to Nisi Prius court Richie Goulding carrying the costbag of Goulding. Collis 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. So a fellow coming in late can see what turn is on and what turns are over. —See? Tom Rochford said. —See? he said. It shot down the groove. Lawyers of the past. See now the last one I put in is over here: Turns Over. see. The impact. ogling them: six. see? He showed them the rising column of disks on the right.

When you two begin Nosey Flynn stooped towards the lever. And be 418 of 1305 . smiled on them from a poster a dauby smile. —I know. Lenehan said. snuffling at it. charming soubrette. —He’s a hero.Ulysses —I’ll see him now in the Ormond. Lenehan said. Going down the path of Sycamore street beside the Empire musichall Lenehan showed M’Coy how the whole thing was. with the rope round him. —But how does it work here. Down went Tom Rochford anyhow. Tom Rochford said. He followed M’Coy out across the tiny square of Crampton court. half choked with sewer gas. M’Coy said. and sound him. Tell him I’m Boylan with impatience. —Tooraloo. you mean. One of those manholes like a bloody gaspipe and there was the poor devil stuck down in it. —Goodnight. It was down a manhole. he said simply. M’Coy said abruptly. One good turn deserves another. —Do. —Drain? Lenehan said. Tommy? he asked. They passed Dan Lowry’s musichall where Marie Kendall. See you later. booky’s vest and all. The drain.

—Even money. Lenehan said. At the Dolphin they halted to allow the ambulance car to gallop past them for Jervis street. What’s the time by your gold watch and chain? M’Coy peered into Marcus Tertius Moses’ sombre office. The gates of the drive opened wide to give egress to the viceregal cavalcade. then at O’Neill’s clock. I knocked against Bantam Lyons in there going to back a bloody horse someone gave him that hasn’t an earthly. Lenehan said returning. Through here. While he waited in Temple bar M’Coy dodged a banana peel with gentle pushes of his toe from the path to the gutter. I want to pop into Lynam’s to see Sceptre’s starting price. And a game filly she is. he said. —After three. Fellow might damn easy get a nasty fall there coming along tight in the dark. —The act of a hero. walking to the right. Who’s riding her? —O. They went up the steps and under Merchants’ arch. he said. he said. —This way. 419 of 1305 . Madden.Ulysses damned but he got the rope round the poor devil and the two were hauled up. A darkbacked figure scanned books on the hawker’s cart.

I was with him one day and he bought a book from an old one in Liffey street for two bob. you know. They crossed to the metal bridge and went along Wellington quay by the riverwall. Boiled shirt affair. —There was a long spread out at Glencree reformatory. carrying a pound and a half of porksteaks. glancing behind. the stars and the moon and comets with long tails. Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam came out of Mangan’s. There were fine plates in it worth double the money. Lenehan said. —Wonder what he’s buying. M’Coy said. —I’ll tell you a damn good one about comets’ tails. and sir Charles Cameron and Dan Dawson spoke and there was music. Lenehan said. Astronomy it was about. The annual dinner. Lenehan said eagerly.. 420 of 1305 . late Fehrenbach’s.Ulysses —There he is. The lord mayor was there.. Val Dillon it was. M’Coy said. —He’s dead nuts on sales. he said. Lenehan laughed. Come over in the sun. —Leopoldo or the Bloom is on the Rye. Bartell d’Arcy sang and Benjamin Dollard .

Coming home it was a gorgeous winter’s night on the Featherbed Mountain... —But wait till I tell you. Bloom and the wife were there. 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. —But wait till I tell you. A card Unfurnished Apartments reappeared on the windowsash of number 7 Eccles street. The year the missus was there . M’Coy said.. M’Coy broke in. he said. —I know. We started singing glees and duets: Lo. Lenehan linked his arm warmly. My missus sang there once. He checked his tale a moment but broke out in a wheezy laugh. Bloom and Chris Callinan were on one side of the car and I was with the wife on the other. —Did she? Lenehan said. After liquids came solids. Delahunt of Camden street had the catering and yours truly was chief bottlewasher.. Cold joints galore and mince pies . the early beam of morning. Fast and furious it was.Ulysses —I know. he said. She was well primed with a good load of 421 of 1305 . Lashings of stuff we put up: port wine and sherry and curacao to which we did ample justice.

He held his caved hands a cubit from him. panting with soft laughter. Every jolt the bloody car gave I had her bumping up against me. And what star is that. —I’m weak. so to speak. By God. By God. God bless her. he wasn’t far wide of the mark. That one. But.Ulysses Delahunt’s port under her bellyband. At last she spotted a weeny weeshy one miles away. frowning: —I was tucking the rug under her and settling her boa all the time. he said with a sigh. She’s a gamey mare and no mistake. is it? says Chris Callinan. Know what I mean? His hands moulded ample curves of air. He shut his eyes tight in delight. he gasped. 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 dragon. sure that’s only what you might call a pinprick. Poldy? says she. in the milky way. his body shrinking. I was lost. —The lad stood to attention anyhow. by God. and blew a sweet chirp from his lips. Like that. faith. Lenehan stopped and leaned on the riverwall. Hell’s delights! She has a fine pair. 422 of 1305 . He knows them all. and the whole jingbang lot. she had Bloom cornered.

then of Aristotle’s Masterpiece..Ulysses M’Coy’s white face smiled about it at instants and grew grave. The shopman let two volumes fall on the counter. Bloom is.. Lots of them like that at this moment all over the world. He bent to make a bundle of the other 423 of 1305 . Child born every minute somewhere.. —He’s a cultured allroundman. he said seriously. He glanced sideways in the sunlight at M’Coy. you know . All butting with their skulls to get out of it. he said. Plates: infants cuddled in a ball in bloodred wombs like livers of slaughtered cows. ***** Mr Bloom turned over idly pages of The Awful Disclosures of Maria Monk. He’s not one of your common or garden . —Them are two good ones. Mrs Purefoy. he said. pushing it by. He laid both books aside and glanced at the third: Tales of the Ghetto by Leopold von Sacher Masoch.. He lifted his yachtingcap and scratched his hindhead rapidly. Crooked botched print. Onions of his breath came across the counter out of his ruined mouth. There’s a touch of the artist about old Bloom. Lenehan walked on again. —That I had.

—Her mouth glued on his in a luscious voluptuous kiss while his hands felt for the opulent curves inside her deshabillé.Ulysses books. The end. Had it? Yes. alone. A woman’s voice behind the dingy curtain. Yes. Got her it once. More in her line. Take this. He read where his finger opened. Know the kind that is. looked at the titles. The beautiful woman threw off her sabletrimmed wrap. Listen: the man. Here. For him! For raoul! Yes. An 424 of 1305 . Try. displaying her queenly shoulders and heaving embonpoint. Mr Bloom. Fair Tyrants by James Lovebirch. professor of dancing &c. he spoke hoarsely. On O’Connell bridge many persons observed the grave deportment and gay apparel of Mr Denis J Maginni. Let us see. hugged them against his unbuttoned waistcoat and bore them off behind the dingy curtain. eying her with a suspicious glare. No: she wouldn’t like that much. —You are late. He read the other title: Sweets of Sin. Thought so. He opened it. —All the dollarbills her husband gave her were spent in the stores on wondrous gowns and costliest frillies. This.

Feel! Press! Crushed! Sulphur dung of lions! Young! Young! An elderly female. cowing his flesh. Mr Bloom read again: The beautiful woman. wiping his 425 of 1305 . Melting breast ointments (for Him! For Raoul!). The shopman’s uncombed grey head came out and his unshaven reddened face. puked phlegm on the floor. no more young. in the court of appeal reservation of judgment in the case of Harvey versus the Ocean Accident and Guarantee Corporation. of the owners of the Lady Cairns versus the owners of the barque Mona. His nostrils arched themselves for prey. exchequer and common pleas. Warmth showered gently over him. Phlegmy coughs shook the air of the bookshop. exparte motion. left the building of the courts of chancery. Armpits’ oniony sweat. king’s bench.Ulysses imperceptible smile played round her perfect lips as she turned to him calmly. bulging out the dingy curtains. He raked his throat rudely. having heard in the lord chancellor’s court the case in lunacy of Potterton. He put his boot on what he had spat. coughing. in the admiralty division the summons. Flesh yielded amply amid rumpled clothes: whites of eyes swooning up. Fishgluey slime (her heaving embonpoint!).

Cosy curtains. E. A. Those lovely curtains. he said. That’s a good one.Ulysses sole along it. Selling new at two guineas. ***** The lacquey by the door of Dillon’s auctionrooms shook his handbell twice again and viewed himself in the chalked mirror of the cabinet. he said: —I’ll take this one. The lacquey lifted his handbell and shook it: —Barang! Bang of the lastlap bell spurred the halfmile wheelmen to their sprint. and bent. Four and nine. heard the beats of the bell. the cries of the auctioneer within. Jackson. Five shillings. scantily haired. J. Any advance on five shillings? Going for five shillings. Mastering his troubled breath. Mr Bloom beheld it. loitering by the curbstone. A. The shopman lifted eyes bleared with old rheum. W. showing a rawskinned crown. tapping on it. —Sweets of Sin. Dilly Dedalus. Wylie. Munro and 426 of 1305 .

he said. —Stand up straight. Mr Dedalus.Ulysses H. —Give it up. 427 of 1305 . father. she said. Dilly said. looking in his eyes. girl. his tongue in his cheek. the cornetplayer. —Stand up straight for the love of the lord Jesus. —Where would I get money? Mr Dedalus said. Are you trying to imitate your uncle John. —How do you know that? Mr Dedalus asked. head upon shoulder? Melancholy God! Dilly shrugged her shoulders. came round from Williams’s row. He halted near his daughter. There is no-one in Dublin would lend me fourpence. —Did you get any money? Dilly asked. Dilly said. negotiated the curve by the College library. hunching his shoulders and dropping his underjaw. Do you know what you look like? He let his head sink suddenly down and forward. All the people are looking at you. Mr Dedalus said. —You got some. Gahan. You’ll get curvature of the spine. Mr Dedalus placed his hands on them and held them back. —It’s time for you. T. Mr Dedalus drew himself upright and tugged again at his moustache. their stretched necks wagging. tugging a long moustache.

—Well. Low blackguardism! I’m going to get rid of you.Ulysses Mr Kernan. 428 of 1305 . Mr Dedalus said threateningly. pleased with the order he had booked. He left her and walked on. The lacquey rang his bell behind their backs. Was it the little nuns taught you to be so saucy? Here. he said. He handed her a shilling. Dilly followed quickly and pulled his coat. You’re like the rest of them. He’s dead. Dilly answered. Dilly said. are you? An insolent pack of little bitches since your poor mother died. —I know you did. —Wait awhile. walked boldly along James’s street. —I suppose you got five. Mr Dedalus cried. —Barang! —Curse your bloody blatant soul. Mr Dedalus said. what is it? he said. Were you in the Scotch house now? —I was not. smiling. The man upstairs is dead. You’ll all get a short shrift and a long day from me. But wait awhile. stopping. Wouldn’t care if I was stretched out stiff. turning on him. —See if you can do anything with that. then. Give me more than that.

handing her two pennies. I got two shillings from Jack Power and I spent twopence for a shave for the funeral. I’ll try this one now. Dilly said. shook the lolling clapper of his bell but feebly: —Bang! Mr Dedalus stared at him. He drew forth a handful of copper coins. —I will. nervously. Dilly said. I’ll leave you all where Jesus left the jews. —You’re very funny. He put the other coins in his pocket and started to walk on. It’s instructive. father. I’ll be home shortly.Ulysses The lacquey. aware of comment. I looked all along the gutter in O’Connell street. Mr Dedalus thought and nodded. —Watch him. he said. —I’m going to show you a little trick. he said gravely. —Can’t you look for some money somewhere? Dilly said. Mr Dedalus said. I wonder will he allow us to talk. Mr Dedalus said. —Here. 429 of 1305 . —You got more than that. Get a glass of milk for yourself and a bun or a something. grinning. Look. there’s all I have.

The lacquey banged loudly. Lovely weather we’re having. Yes. greeted by obsequious policemen. I’ll just take a thimbleful of your best gin. terrible! A thousand casualties. A small gin. Terrible affair that General Slocum explosion. And heartrending scenes. Yes. sir. Those farmers are always grumbling. Mr Crimmins. Terrible. Mr Crimmins? First rate. pleased with the order he had booked for Pulbrook Robertson. I was afraid you might be up in your other establishment in Pimlico. sure they wouldn’t do anything! O. How do you do.Ulysses The viceregal cavalcade passed. sir. —I’m sure you have another shilling. past Shackleton’s offices. out of Parkgate. Dilly said. sure they wouldn’t really! Is it little sister Monica! ***** From the sundial towards James’s gate walked Mr Kernan. Men 430 of 1305 . sir. Good for the country. How are things going? Just keeping alive. murmuring to himself with a pursing mincing mouth gently: —The little nuns! Nice little things! O. boldly along James’s street. Got round him all right. indeed. Mr Dedalus amid the din walked off.

Fits me down to the ground. Saw him looking at my frockcoat. Stylish coat. And America they say is the land of the free. Well. America. I thought we were bad here. where there’s money going there’s always someone to pick it up. You know why? Palm oil. of course. old man. What is it? The sweepings of every country including our own. you’re talking straight. Dress does it.. Nothing like a dressy appearance. Never built under three guineas. just like that. my dear sir.Ulysses trampling down women and children. Mr Crimmins. Well now. Most brutal thing. Simon. Bob. I said quietly. look at that. What do they say was the cause? Spontaneous combustion. stopping. hairdresser. Not a single lifeboat would float and the firehose all burst. Mr Kernan halted and preened himself before the sloping mirror of Peter Kennedy. Now. Graft. Well worth the half sovereign I gave Neary for it. Father Cowley said. Is that a fact? Without a doubt. —Hello. Scott of Dawson street. Most scandalous revelation. I smiled at him. What I can’t understand is how the inspectors ever allowed a boat like that . beyond a doubt. Bowls them over. Some Kildare street 431 of 1305 . How are things? —Hello. Isn’t that true? That’s a fact.. Mr Dedalus answered.

Grizzled moustache. Just a flash like that. Damn like him. a crumpled throwaway. Aham! Must dress the character for those fellows. Bravely he bore his stumpy body forward on spatted feet. gave me a very sharp eye yesterday on Carlisle bridge as if he remembered me. North wall and sir John Rogerson’s quay. His frocktails winked in bright sunshine to his fat strut. Greasy black rope. of course. sir. 432 of 1305 . High colour.Ulysses club toff had it probably. that was. Aham! Hot spirit of juniper juice warmed his vitals and his breath. The windscreen of that motorcar in the sun there. the manager of the Hibernian bank. with hulls and anchorchains. And now. No. Knight of the road. Mr Kernan glanced in farewell at his image. Down there Emmet was hanged. Is that Ned Lambert’s brother over the way. as the old saying has it. drawn and quartered. Elijah is coming. Gentleman. rocked on the ferrywash. squaring his shoulders. Good drop of gin. John Mulligan. Dogs licking the blood off the street when the lord lieutenant’s wife drove by in her noddy. Returned Indian officer. Sam? What? Yes. sailed by a skiff. sailing westward. He’s as like it as damn it. may we have the honour of your custom again. The cup that cheers but not inebriates. Mr Crimmins.

Went out in a puff. Mr Kernan turned and walked down the slope of Watling street by the corner of Guinness’s visitors’ waitingroom. When you look back on it all now in a kind of retrospective arrangement. Corpse brought in through a secret door in the wall. there was a midnight burial in Glasnevin. Denis Breen with his tomes. Damn dangerous thing. Well.Ulysses Bad times those were. Fourbottle men. Mr Kernan approached Island street. led his wife over O’Connell bridge. Runaway horse. Better turn down here. Gaming at Daly’s. Make a detour. well. Outside the Dublin Distillers Company’s stores an outside car without fare or jarvey stood. Some Tipperary bosthoon endangering the lives of the citizens. Dignam is there now. Over and done with. the reins knotted to the wheel. Must ask Ned Lambert to lend me those reminiscences of sir Jonah Barrington. Is he buried in saint Michan’s? Or no. Well. No cardsharping then. well. One of those fellows got his hand nailed to the table by a 433 of 1305 . Great topers too. Times of the troubles. Let me see. weary of having waited an hour in John Henry Menton’s office. bound for the office of Messrs Collis and Ward.

with his violet gloves gave him away. Dust darkened the toiling fingers with their vulture nails. leaping in their. Fine poem that is: Ingram. Ben Dollard does sing that ballad touchingly. Damn it! What a pity! ***** Stephen Dedalus watched through the webbed window the lapidary’s fingers prove a timedulled chain. Stables behind Moira house. of course. outriders leaping. Course they were on the wrong side. Somewhere here lord Edward Fitzgerald escaped from major Sirr. in their saddles. Frockcoats.Ulysses dagger. Mr Kernan hurried forward. Damn good gin that was. They rose in dark and evil days. They were gentlemen. That ruffian. blowing pursily. Good stock. Cream sunshades. A cavalcade in easy trot along Pembroke quay passed. Fine dashing young nobleman. that sham squire. Dust slept on 434 of 1305 . At the siege of Ross did my father fall. His Excellency! Too bad! Just missed that by a hair. Dust webbed the window and the showtrays. Masterly rendition.

capers. A lore of drugs. Grandfather ape gloating on a stolen hoard. Born all in the dark wormy earth. sips from a beaker rum and eyes her.Ulysses dull coils of bronze and silver. And you who wrest old images from the burial earth? The brainsick words of sophists: Antisthenes. rustbearded. evil. lozenges of cinnabar. on rubies. one with a sanded tired umbrella. leprous and winedark stones. She dances. hands. Two old women fresh from their whiff of the briny trudged through Irishtown along London bridge road. She dances in a foul gloom where gum bums with garlic. on her gross belly flapping a ruby egg. turned it and held it at the point of his Moses’ beard. one with a midwife’s bag in which eleven cockles rolled. Orient and immortal wheat standing from everlasting to everlasting. Old Russell with a smeared shammy rag burnished again his gem. cold specks of fire. 435 of 1305 . lights shining in the darkness. A long and seafed silent rut. Muddy swinesnouts. Where fallen archangels flung the stars of their brows. The whirr of flapping leathern bands and hum of dynamos from the powerhouse urged Stephen to be on. A sailorman. gripe and wrest them. root and root. wagging her sowish haunches and her hips.

Where? Between two roaring worlds where they swirl. In Clohissey’s window a faded 186O print of Heenan boxing Sayers held his eye. The Irish Beekeeper. You say right. Four for sixpence. Shatter me you who can. palmam ferenti. Tattered pages. the handle of the ash clacking against his shoulderblade. Stop! Throb always without you and the throb always within. I say! Not yet awhile. indeed. Staring backers with square hats stood round the roped prizering. quite true. Very large and wonderful and keeps famous time. A look around. Stephen went down Bedford row. the huckster said. I might find here one of my pawned schoolprizes. Bawd and butcher were the words. Stephano Dedalo. Pocket Guide to Killarney.Ulysses Beingless beings. And they are throbbing: heroes’ hearts. Yes. 436 of 1305 . ‘twas so. A Monday morning. I. Your heart you sing of. Life and Miracles of the Curé of Ars. —Twopence each. He turned and halted by the slanted bookcart. But stun myself too in the blow. I between them. sir. one and both. alumno optimo. The heavyweights in tight loincloths proposed gently each to other his bulbous fists. Shatter them.

437 of 1305 . walked through the hamlet of Donnycarney. Seal of King David. having read his little hours. Who has passed here before me? How to soften chapped hands. Secret of all secrets.Ulysses Father Conmee. fingering a pinchbeck bracelet. How to win a woman’s love. baldynoddle. lank locks falling at its sides. As good as any other abbot’s charms. Who wrote this? Charms and invocations of the most blessed abbot Peter Salanka to all true believers divulged. It glowed as she crouched feeding the fire with broken boots. For me this. —What are you doing? Stephen said. Nebrakada femininum. Late lieabed under a quilt of old overcoats. Stephen? Dilly’s high shoulders and shabby dress. as mumbling Joachim’s. Recipe for white wine vinegar. murmuring vespers. Shut the book quick. Binding too good probably. A Stuart face of nonesuch Charles. Don’t let see. What is this? Eighth and ninth book of Moses. or we’ll wool your wool. Say the following talisman three times with hands folded: —Se el yilo nebrakada femininum! Amor me solo! Sanktus! Amen. I told her of Paris. —What are you doing here. Down. Thumbed pages: read and read. Dan Kelly’s token.

laughing nervously. To learn French? She nodded. All against us. It’s all right. I suppose all my books are gone. She will drown me with her. Agenbite. Is it any good? My eyes they say she has. We. He took the coverless book from her hand. reddening and closing tight her lips. —Here. Agenbite. Agenbite of inwit. Dilly said. far and daring. Save her. eyes and hair. my soul. Salt green death. We had to. Quite natural. my heart. —Some. Chardenal’s French primer. Show no surprise. Dilly said. —I bought it from the other cart for a penny. Mind Maggy doesn’t pawn it on you. Shadow of my mind. She is drowning. —What did you buy that for? he asked. Misery! Misery! ***** 438 of 1305 . Lank coils of seaweed hair around me.Ulysses —What have you there? Stephen asked. Inwit’s agenbite. Stephen said. Do others see me so? Quick.

All I want is a little time. with two men prowling around the house trying to effect an entrance. Mr Dedalus said. Simon. Father Cowley brushed his moustache often downward with a scooping hand. Father Cowley answered. Bob. a big apple bulging in his neck.Ulysses —Hello. is it? Mr Dedalus asked. Simon. —With a broken back. Father Cowley said. Who is it? —O. —I know. Hold hard! 439 of 1305 . A certain gombeen man of our acquaintance. They clasped hands loudly outside Reddy and Daughter’s. Mr Dedalus said. Father Cowley said. He looked with vague hope up and down the quay. Poor old bockedy Ben! He’s always doing a good turn for someone. stopping. —Why then not much. —The same. How are things? —Hello. Simon. He’s going to say a word to long John to get him to take those two men off. Reuben of that ilk. Father Cowley said. I’m barricaded up. nodding. —Jolly. I’m just waiting for Ben Dollard. —What’s the best news? Mr Dedalus said. Mr Dedalus answered. old man.

arse and pockets. —Bad luck to the jewman that made them. for a summer’s day? —Why. by God. Ben Dollard growled furiously. —Hold him now. Ben. he muttered sneeringly: —That’s a pretty garment. turning to Father Cowley with a nod. I threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw. Then. Ben Dollard said. 440 of 1305 . Ben Dollard said. He stood beside them beaming. Ben Dollard’s loose blue cutaway and square hat above large slops crossed the quay in full gait from the metal bridge. Mr Dedalus eyed with cold wandering scorn various points of Ben Dollard’s figure. He came towards them at an amble. saying: —They were made for a man in his health. on them first and on his roomy clothes from points of which Mr Dedalus flicked fluff. scratching actively behind his coattails. he said. anyhow. isn’t it. Thanks be to God he’s not paid yet. God eternally curse your soul. As he came near Mr Dedalus greeted: —Hold that fellow with the bad trousers. —There he is.Ulysses He put on his glasses and gazed towards the metal bridge an instant.

rectifiers. —That’ll do. Mr Dedalus said. towards the Tholsel beyond the ford of hurdles. Ben Dollard with a heavy list towards the shopfronts led them forward. I saw 441 of 1305 . making suddenly a chanter’s mouth. he said. I want to show you the new beauty Rock has for a bailiff. —What about that? Ben Dollard said. —Come along with me to the subsheriff’s office. nodding also. —That’s the style. Father Cowley said. strode past the Kildare street club. He’s well worth seeing. The reverend Hugh C. Love walked from the old chapterhouse of saint Mary’s abbey past James and Charles Kennedy’s. He’s a cross between Lobengula and Lynchehaun. Not too dusty? What? He turned to both. mind you. —Aw! he said. his joyful fingers in the air. attended by Geraldines tall and personable. Ben Dollard frowned and. Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell.Ulysses —And how is that basso profondo. gave forth a deep note. nodding to its drone. Benjamin? Father Cowley asked. glassyeyed. murmuring. Come along.

Love is the name? —That’s right. Hasn’t your landlord distrained for rent? —He has.Ulysses John Henry Menton casually in the Bodega just now and it will cost me a fall if I don’t .. Ben Dollard halted and stared. 29 Windsor avenue. Bob. 442 of 1305 . The reverend Mr Love. linked to his bulk.. —What few days? he boomed. that he can put that writ where Jacko put the nuts. Father Cowley said. He led Father Cowley boldly forward. The landlord has the prior claim. Wait awhile . We’re on the right lay. —Then our friend’s writ is not worth the paper it’s printed on. believe you me. Father Cowley said. Father Cowley said anxiously. a dangling button of his coat wagging brightbacked from its thread as he wiped away the heavy shraums that clogged his eyes to hear aright. He’s a minister in the country somewhere. I gave him all the particulars. his loud orifice open. Ben Dollard said.. —For a few days tell him.. But are you sure of that? —You can tell Barabbas from me. Ben Dollard said.

appeared above the crossblind of the Ormond hotel.Ulysses —Filberts I believe they were. ***** —The youngster will be all right. —You could try our friend. 443 of 1305 . Mr Power suggested backward. Touch me not. Miss Kennedy’s head by Miss Douce’s head. cheerily. Mr Dedalus said. as he dropped his glasses on his coatfront. Martin Cunningham said. following them. lagging behind. The policeman touched his forehead. reading the list. John Wyse Nolan. —Boyd? Martin Cunningham said shortly. Bronze by gold. —Yes. fingering his beard. —God bless you. I wrote to Father Conmee and laid the whole case before him. came after them quickly down Cork hill. as they passed out of the Castleyard gate. Martin Cunningham said. Martin Cunningham said. He signed to the waiting jarvey who chucked at the reins and set on towards Lord Edward street.

John Wyse Nolan said. John Wyse Nolan opened wide eyes. —Righto. taking the list. humpy. Martin Cunningham said. Mr Power said. Martin Cunningham said. They went down Parliament street. overtaking them at the Mail office. And put down the five shillings too. —Look here. Mr Power said. The castle car wheeled empty into upper Exchange street. —Strange but true. —There’s Jimmy Henry. while Martin Cunningham took the elbow of a dapper little man 444 of 1305 . Martin Cunningham added. John Wyse Nolan fell back with Mr Power. Martin. Outside la Maison Claire Blazes Boylan waylaid Jack Mooney’s brother-in-law. —Without a second word either. just heading for Kavanagh’s. I see Bloom put his name down for five shillings. making for the liberties. —I’ll say there is much kindness in the jew. hailed Alderman Cowley and Councillor Abraham Lyon ascending.Ulysses On the steps of the City hall Councillor Nannetti. descending. he quoted. elegantly. —Quite right. Here goes. tight.

—The assistant town clerk’s corns are giving him some trouble. as all halted and greeted. The tall form of long John Fanning filled the doorway where he stood. They followed round the corner towards James Kavanagh’s winerooms. showed often the list at which Jimmy Henry did not glance. —And long John Fanning is here too.Ulysses in a shower of hail suit. He removed his large Henry Clay decisively and his large fierce eyes scowled intelligently over all their faces. Mr Subsheriff. as large as life. —Are the conscript fathers pursuing their peaceful deliberations? he said with rich acrid utterance to the assistant town clerk. The empty castle car fronted them at rest in Essex gate. Martin Cunningham said. with hasty steps past Micky Anderson’s watches. Martin Cunningham. about their damned Irish language. he wanted to know. Hell open to christians they were having. Jimmy Henry said pettishly. John Wyse Nolan said. who walked uncertainly. John Wyse Nolan told Mr Power. —Good day. to keep order in the 445 of 1305 . Where was the marshal. speaking always. Long John Fanning made no way for them.

446 of 1305 . Damned Irish language. —What Dignam was that? long John Fanning asked. no quorum even. I don’t think you knew him or perhaps you did. language of our forefathers. though. the lord mayor. And old Barlow the macebearer laid up with asthma. With John Wyse Nolan Mr Power followed them in. nothing in order. in Llandudno and little Lorcan Sherlock doing locum tenens for him. no mace on the table. Long John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his lips. my corns! he said plaintively. Come upstairs for goodness’ sake till I sit down somewhere.Ulysses council chamber. Jimmy Henry made a grimace and lifted his left foot. Martin Cunningham said to the subsheriff. Uff! Ooo! Mind! Testily he made room for himself beside long John Fanning’s flank and passed in and up the stairs. and Hutchinson. while John Wyse Nolan held his peace. to the assistant town clerk and the subsheriff. —Come on up. twirling the peak of his beard. —O. Martin Cunningham spoke by turns.

John Wyse Nolan answered from the stairfoot. —What’s that? Martin Cunningham said. not quickly. Mr Power said to the stalwart back of long John Fanning ascending towards long John Fanning in the mirror. —The lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland. Clatter of horsehoofs sounded from the air. There in the corner. All turned where they stood. From the cool shadow of the doorway he saw the horses pass Parliament street. Long John Fanning could not remember him. 447 of 1305 . —Rather lowsized. as they went on up the staircase.Ulysses —Decent little soul he was. ***** As they trod across the thick carpet Buck Mulligan whispered behind his Panama to Haines: —Parnell’s brother. rode outriders. Martin Cunningham said. In saddles of the leaders. Dignam of Menton’s office that was. harness and glossy pasterns in sunlight shimmering. John Wyse Nolan came down again. leaping leaders. Gaily they went past before his cool unfriendly eyes. —What was it? Martin Cunningham asked.

his brother. Haines opened his newbought book. 448 of 1305 . The onelegged sailor growled at the area of 14 Nelson street: —England expects . That’s John Howard. at his foe and fell once more upon a working corner.Ulysses They chose a small table near the window.. under its screen. John Howard Parnell translated a white bishop quietly and his grey claw went up again to his forehead whereat it rested. Buck Mulligan said. —I’m sorry.C. but you missed Dedalus on Hamlet. twisting round in his seat. he said. Mulligan said.B. because they have damn bad cakes. our city marshal. ghostbright. —Two mélanges. his eyes looked quickly. An instant after.. —Yes. Haines said to the waitress. When she had gone he said. —I’ll take a mélange. —Is that he? Haines asked. And bring us some scones and butter and some cakes as well. opposite a longfaced man whose beard and gaze hung intently down on a chessboard. laughing: —We call it D. O. Shakespeare is the happy huntingground of all minds that have lost their balance.

amid the cheerful cups. He will never capture the Attic note. Wandering Aengus I call him. Now I am speculating what it would be likely to be.Ulysses Buck Mulligan’s primrose waistcoat shook gaily to his laughter. pinching his chin thoughtfully with thumb and forefinger. He helped her to unload her tray. Haines said. when his body loses its balance. I tackled him this morning on belief. —He can find no trace of hell in ancient Irish myth. Buck Mulligan bent across the table gravely. —I am sure he has an idée fixe. Buck Mulligan’s watchful eyes saw the waitress come. The joy of creation . Haines said. The note of Swinburne. The moral idea seems lacking. nodding curtly. the sense of destiny. the white death and the ruddy birth. He can never be a poet. he said. I see. Such persons always have. —They drove his wits astray. —You should see him. It’s rather interesting because professor Pokorny of Vienna makes an interesting point out of that. —Eternal punishment. I saw. of retribution.. by visions of hell. That is his tragedy.. he said. There was something on his mind. Haines said. Rather strange 449 of 1305 . of all poets.

beyond new Wapping street past Benson’s ferry. He is going to write something in ten years. he said with forbearance. He bit off a soft piece hungrily. —Seems a long way off.Ulysses he should have just that fixed idea. Elijah. ***** Almidano Artifoni walked past Holles street. chewing and laughing. thoughtfully lifting his spoon. —Ten years. amid an archipelago of corks. Haines said. —This is real Irish cream I take it. Does he write anything for your movement? He sank two lumps of sugar deftly longwise through the whipped cream. Still. and by the threemasted schooner Rosevean from Bridgwater with bricks. Buck Mulligan slit a steaming scone in two and plastered butter over its smoking pith. He tasted a spoonful from the creamy cone of his cup. skiff. light crumpled throwaway. I don’t want to be imposed on. past Sewell’s yard. sailed eastward by flanks of ships and trawlers. I shouldn’t wonder if he did after all. Behind him Cashel Boyle O’Connor 450 of 1305 . he said.

With ratsteeth bared he muttered: —Coactus volui. crossing. walked along Merrion square. At the corner of Wilde’s house he halted. whoever you are! You’re blinder nor I am. his stickumbrelladustcoat dangling. Distantly behind him a blind stripling tapped his way by the wall of College park. frowned at Elijah’s name announced on the Metropolitan hall. —God’s curse on you. He strode on for Clare street. you bitch’s bastard! 451 of 1305 . he said sourly. The blind stripling turned his sickly face after the striding form. His eyeglass flashed frowning in the sun. then turned and strode back along Merrion square. shunned the lamp before Mr Law Smith’s house and. with stickumbrelladustcoat dangling. having buffeted a thewless body.Ulysses Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell. 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 onwards. Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell walked as far as Mr Lewis Werner’s cheerful windows. frowned at the distant pleasance of duke’s lawn. grinding his fierce word.

From the sidemirrors two mourning Masters Dignam gaped silently. Myler Keogh. stopped him. That’s me 452 of 1305 . 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. Two bar entrance. for a purse of fifty sovereigns. Master Dignam on his left turned as he turned. I could easy do a bunk on ma. went along warm Wicklow street dawdling. jawing the whole blooming time and sighing. And they eating crumbs of the cottage fruitcake. He stood looking in at the two puckers stripped to their pelts and putting up their props. porksteaks he had been sent for. the Portobello bruiser. Gob. that’s the chap sparring out to him with the green sash.Ulysses ***** Opposite Ruggy O’Donohoe’s Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam. courtdress milliner. that’d be a good pucking match to see. late Fehrenbach’s. will meet sergeantmajor Bennett. Dublin’s pet lamb. pawing the pound and a half of Mangan’s. soldiers half price. Myler Keogh. After Wicklow lane the window of Madame Doyle.

When is it? May the twentysecond. The best pucker going for strength was Fitzsimons. The blooming stud was too small for the buttonhole of the shirt. One puck in the wind from that fellow would knock you into the middle of next week. his chin lifted. blooming end to it.Ulysses in mourning. Master Dignam got his collar down and dawdled on. shifted the porksteaks to his other hand. 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. the blooming thing is all over. I’m not going tomorrow 453 of 1305 . dodging and all. No Sandymount tram. But the best pucker for science was Jem Corbet before Fitzsimons knocked the stuffings out of him. man. beside the two puckers. his cap awry. Sure. His collar sprang up again and he tugged it down. his collar sticking up. Master Dignam walked along Nassau street. he saw the image of Marie Kendall. charming soubrette. Buttoning it down. He met schoolboys with satchels. 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. He turned to the right and on his right Master Dignam turned.

stay away till Monday. Then they’ll all see it in the paper and read my name printed and pa’s name. Never see him again. That was Mr Dignam. Pa is dead. His face got all grey instead of being red like it was and there was a fly walking over it up to his eye. He met other schoolboys. that is. and high and heavylooking. He told me to be a good son to ma. Do they notice I’m in mourning? Uncle Barney said he’d get it into the paper tonight. My father is dead. Poor pa. Pa was inside it and ma crying in the parlour and uncle Barney telling the men how to get it round the bend. 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. 454 of 1305 .Ulysses either. I couldn’t hear the other things he said but I saw his tongue and his teeth trying to say it better. my father. The scrunch that was when they were screwing the screws into the coffin: and the bumps when they were bringing it downstairs. I hope he’s in purgatory now because he went to confession to Father Conroy on Saturday night. Death. A big coffin it was.

The cavalcade passed out by the lower gate of Phoenix park saluted by obsequious policemen and proceeded past Kingsbridge along the northern quays. in attendance. White’s. L. Miss de Courcy and the honourable Gerald Ward A. Constitution hill and Broadstone terminus.C. earl of Dudley. at the corner of Arran street west stroking his nose with his forefinger.. Collis and Ward saw him with surprise. In the following carriage were the honourable Mrs Paget. A. the pawnbroker’s. accompanied by lieutenantcolonel Heseltine. M. undecided whether he should arrive at Phibsborough more quickly by a triple change of tram or by hailing a car or on foot through Smithfield. E. 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 White.Ulysses ***** William Humble. B. who stood on Arran quay outside Mrs M. Past 455 of 1305 . In the porch of Four Courts Richie Goulding with the costbag of Goulding. drove out after luncheon from the viceregal lodge.D. and lady Dudley. The viceroy was most cordially greeted on his way through the metropolis..

. agent for the Patriotic Insurance Company. watched the carriages go by.A.Ulysses Richmond bridge at the doorstep of the office of Reuben J Dodd. Above the crossblind of the Ormond hotel. carrying the Catesby’s cork lino letters for her father who was laid up. gold by bronze. From Cahill’s corner the reverend Hugh C. mindful of lords deputies whose hands benignant had held of yore rich advowsons. M. steering his way from the greenhouse for the subsheriff’s office. His Excellency graciously returned Mr Dedalus’ greeting. On Ormond quay Mr Simon Dedalus. 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 456 of 1305 . taking leave of each other. Love. stood still in midstreet and brought his hat low. made obeisance unperceived. Passing by Roger Greene’s office and Dollard’s big red printinghouse Gerty MacDowell. On Grattan bridge Lenehan and M’Coy. solicitor. Miss Kennedy’s head by Miss Douce’s head watched and admired. an 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.

great Marie Kendall. B. saw sunshades spanned and wheelspokes spinning 457 of 1305 . G. Buck Mulligan gaily. C. gazed down on the viceregal equipage over the shoulders of eager guests. whose mass of forms darkened the chessboard whereon John Howard Parnell looked intently. D. G. and Haines gravely. In Fownes’s street Dilly Dedalus. took his thumbs quickly out of the pockets of his claret waistcoat and doffed his cap to her. the gentleman Henry. A charming soubrette. and also upon the honourable Gerald Ward A. and upon lieutenantcolonel H. Heseltine. with dauby cheeks and lifted skirt smiled daubily from her poster upon William Humble. Over against Dame gate Tom Rochford and Nosey Flynn watched the approach of the cavalcade. straining her sight upward from Chardenal’s first French primer. dernier cri James. Tom Rochford.. passed Micky Anderson’s all times ticking watches and Henry and James’s wax smartsuited freshcheeked models. The Right Honourable William Humble.Ulysses of her on account of its being the lord lieutenant. C. O. earl of Dudley. C. V. 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. seeing the eyes of lady Dudley fixed on him. earl of Dudley. From the window of the D.

he shifted his tomes to his left breast and saluted the second carriage. stepping in tan shoes and socks with skyblue clocks to the refrain of My girl’s a Yorkshire girl. gaily apparelled.. halted and four tallhatted white flagons halted behind him.L. filling the doorway of Commercial Buildings. a widebrimmed straw hat at a rakish angle and a suit of indigo serge. agreeably surprised. Understanding. 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.D. As they drove along Nassau street His 458 of 1305 . professor of dancing &c.Ulysses in the glare.C. stared from winebig oyster eyes.Y’S. By the provost’s wall came jauntily Blazes Boylan. made haste to reply. Opposite Pigott’s music warerooms Mr Denis J Maginni. The honourable Gerald Ward A. 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. while outriders pranced past and carriages. She shouted in his ear the tidings. outpassed by a viceroy and unobserved. Blazes Boylan presented to the leaders’ skyblue frontlets and high action a skyblue tie. E. gravely walked. John Henry Menton. At Ponsonby’s corner a jaded white flagon H. holding a fat gold hunter watch not looked at in his fat left hand not feeling it.

Thither of the wall the quartermile flat handicappers. Stevenson. touched his tallyho cap. M. Baraabum. Baraabum. Hornblower.Ulysses Excellency drew the attention of his bowing consort to the programme of music which was being discoursed in College park. Morphy. Yet I’ve a sort of a Yorkshire relish for My little Yorkshire rose. started in pursuit. Unseen brazen highland laddies blared and drumthumped after the cortège: But though she’s a factory lass And wears no fancy clothes. As the glossy horses pranced by Merrion square Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam. C. F. H. Huggard. B. G. M. Deep in Leinster street by Trinity’s postern a loyal king’s man. E. waiting. T. 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. Shrift. Jeffs. C. C. saw salutes being given to the gent with the topper and raised also his new black cap with fingers greased by porksteak 459 of 1305 . Scaife. C. Adderly and W. N. Solomons in the window of the AustroHungarian viceconsulate. Green. J. Patey.

eating dry bread. the prince consort. ***** 460 of 1305 . In Lower Mount street a pedestrian in a brown macintosh. on his way to inaugurate the Mirus bazaar in aid of funds for Mercer’s hospital. The viceroy. His collar too sprang up. At Haddington road corner two sanded women halted themselves. passed swiftly and unscathed across the viceroy’s path. At the Royal Canal bridge. the 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 husband. On Northumberland and Lansdowne roads His Excellency acknowledged punctually salutes from rare male walkers. in 1849 and the salute of Almidano Artifoni’s sturdy trousers swallowed by a closing door.Ulysses paper. He passed a blind stripling opposite Broadbent’s. drove with his following towards Lower Mount street. Mr Eugene Stratton. bade all comers welcome to Pembroke township. his blub lips agrin. an umbrella and a bag in which eleven cockles rolled to view with wonder the lord mayor and lady mayoress without his golden chain. from his hoarding.

Trilling. Soft word. steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn. Blew. War! War! The tympanum. Peep! Who’s in the . picking chips off rocky thumbnail. Longindying call. Avowal. The morn is breaking. Bloo. When love absorbs. goodbye! Jingle. Horrid! And gold flushed more. Avowal. Sonnez. Rebound of garter. Boomed crashing chords. Blue bloom is on the. And a call. Clock clacked. trilling: Idolores. peepofgold? Tink cried to bronze in pity. rose of Castile. 461 of 1305 .. pure. A husky fifenote blew. long and throbbing.. Smack. But look: the bright stars fade. A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin. Goldpinnacled hair. La cloche! Thigh smack. A sail! A veil awave upon the waves. O rose! Castile. Coin rang. Warm. Notes chirruping answer. Decoy. Chips. I could. Jingle jingle jaunted jingling.Ulysses Bronze by gold heard the hoofirons. Sweetheart. chips. Not leave thee.

Hissss. Deepsounding. But wait! Low in dark middle earth. Goodgod henev erheard inall. Black. far. and for other. Horn. Embedded ore. Have you the? Each. Warbling. plash and silent roar. Wait while you hee. Preacher is he: All gone. Naminedamine. Liszt’s rhapsodies. So lonely blooming. Hawhorn. All fallen. Wait while you wait. Clipclap. When first he saw. Martha! Come! Clapclap. A moonlit nightcall: far.Ulysses Lost. Ben. Pearls: when she. With a cock with a carra. Full throb. Deaf bald Pat brought pad knife took up. You don’t? Did not: no. I feel so sad. S. Ah. Alas! Full tup. Listen! The spiked and winding cold seahorn. Hee hee. lure! Alluring. Clappyclap. no: believe: Lidlyd. Throstle fluted. 462 of 1305 . do. Do. P. All is lost now.

Old Bloom. To. Bronzelydia by Minagold. One rapped. Done. her tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair. good people! His gouty fingers nakkering. Amen! He gnashed in fury. Like you men. Lid Ker Cow De and Doll. By bronze. with a cock. Kraa. one tapped. Big Benben. Begin! 463 of 1305 . Will lift your tschink with tschunk. Fff! Oo! Where bronze from anear? Where gold from afar? Where hoofs? Rrrpr. Kraandl. My eppripfftaph. in oceangreen of shadow. Then not till then. A baton cool protruding. Be pfrwritt. True men. ay. Bloom. Ay. Big Benaben.Ulysses Tiny. fro. by gold. Pwee! Little wind piped wee. with a carra. Last rose Castile of summer left bloom I feel so sad alone. Pray for him! Pray. Fro.

flattening her face against the pane in a halo of hurried breath. Miss Douce said yes. Her wet lips tittered: —He’s killed looking back. Mind till I see. —Who? Where? gold asked more eagerly.Ulysses Bronze by gold. 464 of 1305 . laughing in the sun. sitting with his ex. Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light. to the backmost corner. bronze. Sauntering sadly. pearl grey and eau de Nil. ringing steel. She darted. He’s looking. miss Douce’s wet lips said. She laughed: —O wept! Aren’t men frightful idiots? With sadness. miss Kennedy said. over the crossblind of the Ormond bar heard the viceregal hoofs go by. When all agog miss Douce said eagerly: —Look at the fellow in the tall silk. —Is that her? asked miss Kennedy. gold no more. miss Douce’s head by miss Kennedy’s head. —In the second carriage. twining a loose hair behind an ear. she twisted twined a hair. —Exquisite contrast.

The boots to them. in memory bearing sweet sinful words. as he retreated as she threatened as he had come. low. bootssnout sniffed rudely. —Find out. Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray down to an upturned lithia crate. A man. is it? A haughty bronze replied: —I’ll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I hear any more of your impertinent insolence. them in the bar. Bloom. —What is it? loud boots unmannerly asked. miss Douce retorted. sadly then she said. —Your beau. For them unheeding him he banged on the counter his tray of chattering china. Bloowho went by by Moulang’s pipes bearing in his breast the sweets of sin. —It’s them has the fine times.Ulysses Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a curving ear. —Imperthnthn thnthnthn. he said. for Raoul. 465 of 1305 . And —There’s your teas. by Carroll’s dusky battered plate. them barmaids came. safe from eyes. leaving her spyingpoint. by Wine’s antiques.

heard steel from anear. miss Kennedy rejoined. bronze from anear. both of black satin. If he doesn’t conduct himself I’ll wring his ear for him a yard long. two and nine a yard.Ulysses On her flower frowning miss Douce said: —Most aggravating that young brat is. —No. —Am I awfully sunburnt? Miss bronze unbloused her neck. waiting for their teas to draw. then back in the teapot tea. crates upturned. waiting on footstools. and two and seven. and heard steelhoofs ringhoof ringsteel. Bidding her neck and hands adieu miss Douce 466 of 1305 . said miss Kennedy. It gets brown after. Ladylike in exquisite contrast. hoofs ring from afar. miss Kennedy advised. Yes. —Take no notice. They cowered under their reef of counter. she said. —And leave it to my hands. by gold from afar. waiting for their teas to draw. She poured in a teacup tea. They pawed their blouses. 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. —Try it with the glycerine.

a sip. cocking her bronze head three quarters. —Here he was. Sweet tea miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears with little fingers. —No. sweet tea. to speak: but said. replied. she cried. 467 of 1305 . hot tea. but prayed again: —Don’t let me think of him or I’ll expire. miss Douce entreated. Hufa! Hufa! Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from miss Kennedy’s throat. don’t. reseated. Miss Kennedy. Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear. I asked that old fogey in Boyd’s for something for my skin. Miss Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a snout in quest. ruffling her nosewings.Ulysses —Those things only bring out a rash. pouring now a fulldrawn tea. The hideous old wretch! That night in the Antient Concert Rooms. don’t remind me of him for mercy’ sake! —But wait till I tell you. —I won’t listen. But Bloom? Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey’s tone: —For your what? says he. grimaced and prayed: —O. miss Douce said. sipped. She sipped distastefully her brew. she cried.

sighing. 468 of 1305 . Will you ever forget his goggle eye? Miss Douce chimed in in deep bronze laughter. high piercing notes. I think. Why do I always think Figather? Gathering figs. Bluerobed. sighing. shouting: —And your other eye! Bloowhose dark eye read Aaron Figatner’s name. A student. That brings those rakes of fellows in: her white. miss Kennedy cried. By went his eyes. ah.Ulysses —O! shrieking. All comely virgins. By Bassi’s blessed virgins Bloom’s dark eyes went by. their mirth died down. Ah. God they believe she is: or goddess. I could not see. come to me. Of sin. And Prosper Lore’s huguenot name. In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended. They threw young heads back. bronze gigglegold. fordone. Douce with Kennedy your other eye. panting. That fellow spoke. Sweet are the sweets. The sweets of sin. Those today. After with Dedalus’ son. signals to each other. He might be Mulligan. screaming. your other. white under. to let freefly their laughter.

drank a sip and gigglegiggled. Again Kennygiggles.Ulysses Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again. panting. joy. crying: —O greasy eyes! Imagine being married to a man like that! she cried. stooping. spluttered out of her mouth her tea. to greaseabloom. Exhausted. their shaken heads they laid. bending over the teatray. a full yell of full woman. shrilldeep. bronzegold. Shrill. I feel all wet. Married to Bloom. sweating (O!). all breathless. choking in tea and laughter. braided and pinnacled by glossycombed. raised. delight. they urged each each to peal after peal. sighed above her jumping rose. stooping. coughing with choking. All flushed (O!). I wished I hadn’t laughed so much. 469 of 1305 . indignation. her tortoise napecomb showed. —O saints above! miss Douce said. with deep laughter. against the counterledge. breathless. And then laughed more. her fair pinnacles of hair. goldbronze. With his bit of beard! Douce gave full vent to a splendid yell. ruffled again her nose and rolled droll fattened eyes. gold after bronze. Miss Douce. ringing in changes. after. Greasy I knows. —Married to the greasy nose! she yelled. to laughter after laughter.

bright of their oils. Mr Dedalus told her and pressed her hand indulgently. miss Douce. Eat first. He held her hand. Not yet. On. On. she said. 470 of 1305 . Dolphin. At four. she said. goldenly paled. more goldenly. The violet silk petticoats. by Ceppi’s virgins. —Gorgeous.Ulysses —O. Eat. miss Douce! miss Kennedy protested. Lying out on the strand all day. If I net five guineas with those ads. Time ever passing. Bronze whiteness. picking chips off one of his rocky thumbnails. By Cantwell’s offices roved Greaseabloom. Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus. He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor. Enjoyed her holidays? —Tiptop. welcome back. still less. The sweets of sin. Tempting poor simple males. For Raoul. Not yet. —O. Flushed less. I want. Nannetti’s father hawked those things about. Chips. He strolled. Look at the holy show I am. Clockhands turning. Where eat? The Clarence. —That was exceedingly naughty of you. Religion pays. You horrid thing! And flushed yet more (you horrid!). Must see him for that par. wheedling at doors as I. Chips.

With grace of alacrity towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane’s she turned herself. I think I’ll trouble you for some fresh water and a half glass of whisky. You’re very simple. Must be a great tonic in the air down there. I often wanted to see the Mourne mountains. —You must have been a doaty. he mused. —With the greatest alacrity. —By Jove. he mused. Yes. Yes. miss Douce agreed. whatever you say yourself. they say. He was. Forth from the skirt of his coat Mr Dedalus brought pouch and pipe. I looked so simple in the cradle they christened me simple Simon. Alacrity she served. Jingle. He blew through the flue two husky fifenotes. With grace she tapped a measure of gold whisky from her crystal keg. —O go away! she said. he mused. miss Douce made answer. But a long threatening comes at last. And what did the doctor order today? —Well now. I don’t think. 471 of 1305 . —Well now I am.Ulysses Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away.

Daly’s. Buy paper. Gaily miss Douce polished a tumbler. Lenehan round the sandwichbell wound his round body round. Bloom. Chips. was Mr Boylan in while I was upstairs? She asked. —Was Mr Boylan looking for me? He asked. her maidenhair. Blue bloom is on the rye. Lenehan came forward. read on. —He was in at lunchtime. her mermaid’s. She answered: —Miss Kennedy. Yes. He was not. into the bowl. —Peep! Who’s in the corner? 472 of 1305 . Round him peered Lenehan. Shreds.Ulysses Yes. not seen. Idolores. miss Douce said. Miss voice of Kennedy answered. None nought said nothing. Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge. Girl there civil. queen of the eastern seas! —Was Mr Lidwell in today? In came Lenehan. Miss gaze of Kennedy. trilling: —O. Musing. Mute. Yes. He fingered shreds of hair. To Martha I must write. heard. Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. a second teacup poised. her gaze upon a page: —No. Old Bloom.

To mind her stops. To read only the black ones: round o and crooked ess.Ulysses No glance of Kennedy rewarding him he yet made overtures. —Greetings from the famous son of a famous father. Jingle jaunty jingle. famous father. Take no notice. I hear he is keeping very select company. Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you put your bill down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone? He droned in vain. Can you ask? Stephen. I didn’t recognise him for the moment. Girlgold she read and did not glance. —I see. Mr Dedalus. Miss Douce turned to her tea aside. He sighed aside: —Ah me! O my! He greeted Mr Dedalus and got a nod. She took no notice while he read by rote a solfa fable for her. he said. the youthful bard. —Who may he be? Mr Dedalus asked. plappering flatly: —Ah fox met ah stork. Lenehan opened most genial arms. laid by his dry filled pipe. Have you seen him lately? 473 of 1305 . Dry. Who? —Who may he be? he asked.

Not twenty I’m sure he was. said Lenehan. He drank. —The tuner was in today. miss Kennedy? The real classical. —I see you have moved the piano. poor fellow. —I quaffed the nectarbowl with him this very day. He smiled at bronze’s teabathed lips. at listening lips and eyes: —The élite of Erin hung upon his lips. Dublin’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. He see. The ponderous pundit.Ulysses He had. Set down his glass. miss Douce replied. —Is that a fact? —Didn’t he. He had received the rhino for the labour of his muse. And blind too. After an interval Mr Dedalus raised his grog and —That must have been highly diverting. you know. I see. tuning it for the smoking concert and I never heard such an exquisite player. said he. With faraway mourning mountain eye. In Mooney’s en ville and in Mooney’s sur mer. 474 of 1305 . He looked towards the saloon door. Hugh MacHugh.

Thanks awfully muchly. a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. Wise Bloom eyed on the door a poster. Respectable girl meet after mass. coolest whiff of all. Smoke mermaids. He drank and strayed away. soft pedalling. Hair streaming: lovelorn. Lager without alacrity she served. With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan with impatience. Tink to her pity cried a diner’s bell. —So sad to look at his face.Ulysses —Is that a fact? Mr Dedalus said. Upholding the lid he (who?) gazed in the coffin (coffin?) at the oblique triple (piano!) wires. for jinglejaunty blazes boy. God’s curse on bitch’s bastard. Was it a daisy? Innocence that is. came bothered Pat. To the door of the bar and diningroom came bald Pat. came Pat. a triple of keys to see the thicknesses of felt advancing. to 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. language of flow. waiter of Ormond. Lager for diner. Means something. miss Douce condoled. He pressed (the same who pressed indulgently her hand). For some 475 of 1305 .

. Near now. purer. sir. Go quick.Ulysses man. Ternoon.. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. From the saloon a call came.. Coincidence. Pat paid for diner’s popcorked bottle: and over tumbler.. —And four. the shopgirl dared to say. It is. Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the bridge to Ormond quay. pure. Risk it. softly and softlier. For Raoul. Bloo smi qui go. At four she. Longer in dying call.. Follow. That was a tuningfork the tuner had that he forgot that he now struck. Out. its buzzing prongs. He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a jaunting car. 476 of 1305 . Excuse . That he now poised that it now throbbed. For men.. —Aha . I was forgetting . long in dying. with miss Douce. You hear? It throbbed. In drowsy silence gold bent on her page.. tray and popcorked bottle ere he went he whispered. Think you’re the only pebble on the beach? Does that to all. A call again. Again. —The bright stars fade . bald and bothered. —Twopence. Third time. At four..

unconquered hero. linked.. The seat he 477 of 1305 .. Between the car and window. singing: — . gold from anear by bronze from afar. —The dewdrops pearl . he said. Brightly the keys. Blazes Boylan’s smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloor where he strode. all harpsichording. —But look this way. See me he might.. dreamily rose.Ulysses A voiceless song sang from within. She rose and closed her reading. —Did she fall or was she pushed? he asked her.. forlorn. life’s. of love’s leavetaking. called to a voice to sing the strain of dewy morn. warily walking. the morn is breaking. Jingle jaunted by the curb and stopped. Like lady. Lenehan’s lips over the counter lisped a low whistle of decoy. Yes. of youth. all twinkling. A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. rose of Castile: fretted. Lenehan heard and knew and hailed him: —See the conquering hero comes. love’s morn. went Bloom. rose of Castile. She answered. ladylike. slighting: —Ask no questions and you’ll hear no lies.

See. Miss Douce reached high to take a flagon. Sit tight there. not be seen. —What’s your cry? Glass of bitter? Glass of bitter. Avoid. He touched to fair miss Kennedy a rim of his slanted straw. Ormond? Best value in Dublin. please. Smart Boylan bespoke potions. Hello.. stretching her satin arm. Dinner fit for a prince. preening for him her richer hair. I think I’ll join you. Come on. saluting. —I heard you were round. In here. lifted aloft. What. Richie led on. Wire in yet? Not yet. —And I from thee . —O! O! jerked Lenehan. She smiled on him. Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding’s legal bag.. Wait. Bloom followed bag. gasping at each stretch. Where off to? Something to eat? I too was just. that all but burst. her bust. What is he doing in the Ormond? Car waiting. so high. Is that so? Diningroom. said Blazes Boylan. At four she.Ulysses sat on: warm. and a sloegin for me. O! 478 of 1305 . Who said four? Cowley’s red lugs and bulging apple in the door of the sheriff’s office. But sister bronze outsmiled her. Goulding a chance. a bosom and a rose.

Lenehan still drank and grinned at his tilted ale and at miss Douce’s lips that all but hummed. wonder who gave). Shebronze. —Here’s fortune. —Hold on. The eastern seas. A clack. —I plunged a bit. not shut. the oceansong her lips had trilled. He pitched a broad coin down. For me. Look to the west. Fair one of Egypt teased and sorted in the till and hummed and handed coins in change. Blazes said. dealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his lips. and syrupped with her voice: —Fine goods in small parcels. you know. —Why don’t you grow? asked Blazes Boylan. 479 of 1305 . Idolores. Not on my own. Coin rang. he said. looked as it flowed (flower in his coat: who gave him?). he wished.Ulysses But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph. —Sceptre will win in a canter.. Fancy of a friend of mine. lifting his bubbled ale. bearing away teatray. It clanged. Clock whirred. Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe. —Fortune. That is to say she. Miss Douce took Boylan’s coin. said Lenehan. said Boylan winking and drinking.. till I . struck boldly the cashregister. Miss Kennedy passed their way (flower. Clock clacked. Clock clacked.

waited. There’s no-one. The bag of Goulding. Has he forgotten? Perhaps a trick. —Let’s hear the time. Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure’s skyblue bow and eyes. Be near. At four. Wait. Collis. miss Douce promised coyly. Four? O’clock.. Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables. —I could not leave thee . High. bust ahumming. to Flora’s lips did hie.Ulysses —What time is that? asked Blazes Boylan. —Afterwits. — .. 480 of 1305 .. wait. He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. waiter. bald Pat attending. small eyes ahunger on her humming. He never heard. Pat. pressed Lenehan. a table near the door. he said. —Go on. —Please. Aimless he chose with agitated aim. tugged Blazes Boylan’s elbowsleeve. a high note pealed in the treble clear.. Lenehan. I couldn’t do. please. Bronzedouce communing with her rose that sank and rose sought Blazes Boylan’s flower and eyes. Not come: whet appetite.

—You’re the essence of vulgarity. but. Sonnezlacloche! O do! There’s no-one. after her gliding head as it went down the bar by mirrors. —Go on! Do! Sonnez! Bending.Ulysses —No. She smilesmirked supercilious (wept! aren’t men?). Trained by owner. found it again. Boylan. Miss Kenn out of earshot. His spellbound eyes went after. 481 of 1305 . now. Sudden bent. Quavering the chords strayed from the air. she nipped a peak of skirt above her knee. suspending. sucking the last fat violet syrupy drops. urged Lenehan. faltering. lost chord. mild she smiled on Boylan. and lost and found it. Two kindling faces watched her bend. —Sonnez! Smack. She set free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter smackwarm against her smackable a woman’s warmhosed thigh. bending. No sawdust there. She looked. Delayed. drank off his chalice tiny. Tossed to fat lips his chalice. eyed. with wilful eyes. eyed. Quick. she in gliding said. Taunted them still. gilded arch for ginger ale. lightward gliding. —La Cloche! cried gleeful Lenehan.

—Got the horn or what? he said. Yes. turning an instant from Father Cowley’s woe. Lenehan gulped to go. grasped his change. Bob. said Blazes Boylan. drinking quickly. Mr Dollard? —Eh? How do? How do? Ben Dollard’s vague bass answered. Sweetheart. I’m coming.Ulysses hock and claret glasses shimmering. —Come on to blazes. Sighing Mr Dedalus came through the saloon. Tom Rochford . —Wait a shake.. I wanted to tell you. Wait. begged Lenehan. saluting forms. where it concerted.. a bulky with a slender. a spiky shell. —How do you do. We’ll put a barleystraw in that Judas Iscariot’s ear this time. bronze with sunnier bronze. a finger soothing an eyelid. He followed the hasty creaking shoes but stood by nimbly by the threshold. — . bronze from anearby. mirrored. 482 of 1305 . He won’t give you any trouble. going.. goodbye! —I’m off. Alf Bergan will speak to the long fellow. He slid his chalice brisk away. said Boylan with impatience..

Course nerves a bit. And Bloom? Let me see. Bronze by the window. bronze from afar. Not make him walk twice. Begone dull care. Ben Dollard called. Jingle. Simon. I was only vamping. come on. Let me see. —Come on. a little sound. Bothered. Ben. he wanted Power and cider. —What’s that? Mr Dedalus said. He ambled Dollard. He’s gone. Bloom heard a jing. Jingle a tinkle jaunted. before them (hold that fellow with the: hold him now) into the saloon. Yes. Come on.Ulysses —Hoho. Come. Bald Pat in the doorway met tealess gold returning. Jingling. He’s off. God be with old times. Cider. waited for drink orders. Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the silent bluehued flowers. Power for Richie. bottle of cider. Four now. Bald Pat. man. bulky slops. Bob. How warm this black is. stopped abrupt. His corns. bothered waiter. Hear. His gouty paws plumped chords. Mr Dedalus said. Refracts (is it?) heat. Give us a ditty. He plumped him Dollard on the stool. —Love and War. watched. we will. We heard the piano. Ben Dollard yodled jollily. 483 of 1305 . Plumped.

over the bar where bald stood by sister gold. unregarded. do you remember? Ben bulky Dollard said. Father Cowley reminded them. smitten (the smiting light). turned from the crossblind. Mr Dedalus said. There was a slight difference of opinion between himself and the Collard grand. turning from the punished keyboard. No wedding garment. All trio laughed. by the way? 484 of 1305 . she lowered the dropblind with a sliding cord. Mr Dedalus said. They laughed all three. —God. slow cool dim seagreen sliding depth of shadow. smitten by sunlight. Pensive (who knows?). And by Japers I had no wedding garment. Where’s my pipe. —Poor old Goodwin was the pianist that night. —Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night. She drew down pensive (why did he go so quick when I?) about her bronze. inexquisite contrast. —A symposium all his own.Ulysses Miss Douce’s brave eyes. He was a crotchety old fellow in the primary stage of drink. Gone. There was. He had no wed. eau de Nil. The devil wouldn’t stop him. contrast inexquisite nonexquisite.

ay. That was a brilliant idea. Richie and Poldy. his broad visage wondering. What? —Ay. Mr Dedalus nodded. 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. I remember those tight trousers too. Brilliant ide. Ben. And Father Cowley laughed again. I think.Ulysses He wandered back to the bar to the lost chord pipe. Remember? Ben remembered. —I knew he was on the rocks. —Merrion square style. Bald Pat carried two diners’ drinks. Balldresses. by God. What? Any God’s quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. 485 of 1305 . Tight trou. averred Ben Dollard. —You did. —I saved the situation. Bob. He saved the situa. Father Cowley blushed to his brilliant purply lobes. Mr Dedalus wandered back. —By God. he said. pipe in hand. Mrs Marion Bloom has left off clothes of all descriptions. and court dresses. He wouldn’t take any money either. she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there.

all the way. Smell of burn. —Yes. bronze by maraschino. lit. gold by the beerpull. crackling. —Yes. I remember the old drummajor.. What? . begad. He puffed a pungent plumy blast.. Simon? Puff after stiff. —Buccinator muscle is .. Nice name he.. puffed savoury puff after —Irish? I don’t know.. Right.. Is she alive? —And kicking. savoury. O. Of Paul de Kock. Mrs Marion. a puff. strong. whizzed. Bit rusty . Mr Dedalus struck. —She was a daughter of . Is she. Met him pike hoses..Ulysses Jingle jaunted down the quays. They pined in depth of ocean shadow. —Tweedy... Pat. she is . Blazes sprawled on bounding tyres. Mina 486 of 1305 . —Daughter of the regiment.. Liver and bacon. Steak and kidney pie. faith. Right. thoughtful all two. —What’s this her name was? A buxom lassy. O. sir.... Marion . My Irish Molly.. —From the rock of Gibraltar.

Ulysses Kennedy. Leopold cut liverslices. Boylan impatience. Over their voices Dollard bassooned attack. Roll of Bensoulbenjamin rolled to the quivery loveshivery roofpanes. He wagged huge beard. Dinners fit for princes. married in silence. He stopped. ardentbold. Pat served. huge face over his blunder huge. Ben Warrior laughed. 487 of 1305 . As said before he ate with relish the inner organs. Drumcondra with Idolores. warmseated. booming over bombarding chords: —When love absorbs my ardent soul . a queen.. Have you the? Haw haw horn. uncovered dishes. in sun in heat. bite by bite of pie he ate Bloom ate they ate. mare’s glossy rump atrot. Collis.. —So I am. You’re the warrior. I was thinking of your landlord. steak then kidney. silent. bachelor. Ward ate steak and kidney. —War! War! cried Father Cowley. Bloom with Goulding. By Bachelor’s walk jogjaunty jingled Blazes Boylan. 4 Lismore terrace. Love or money. Dolores. fried cods’ roes while Richie Goulding. Horn. ate. nutty gizzards. Have you the? Horn. on bounding tyres: sprawled. with flick of whip.

But it would be in the paper. Amoroso ma non troppo. first gentleman said. — .. with an organ like yours. No trouble.. Too much trouble.. Did she know where the lord lieutenant was going? And heard steelhoofs ringhoof ring. her pinnacles of hair slowmoving. Half time.. Father Cowley added. my ardent soul I care not foror the morrow. Ben Dollard’s famous.. searching. No. Gold by bronze heard iron steel.. Way he looked that. beautiful weather.. She passed a remark. In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. the lord lieutenant. not in the least. She waved about her outspread Independent. you’d burst the tympanum of her ear. Lord lieutenant. she couldn’t say. In bearded abundant laughter Dollard shook upon the keyboard. He would.Ulysses —Sure. first gentleman said. O. Let me there. It was indeed. O. Night he ran 488 of 1305 . Mr Dedalus said through smoke aroma. she need not trouble... They drank cool stout. man. Love and War someone is... Miss Kennedy served two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout. Ben. lord lieuten. —Not to mention another membrane.

Musical porkers. O saints above. Bald Pat. Tiresome shapers scraping 489 of 1305 . Bloom ate liv as said before. Bad breath he has. Miss Douce. suave. engaging. Pat to and fro. of course that’s what gives him the base barreltone. flowers. Afternoon. kicking. like one together. solicited.Ulysses round to us to borrow a dress suit for that concert. Must be Cowley. the women in the front row! O. That chap in the Burton. Good afternoon. I never laughed so many! Well. gentleman. George Lidwell. mutual understanding. Wonder who’s playing. mitres of napkins. For instance eunuchs. bowed to suave solicitor. Threw herself back across the bed. She gave her moist (a lady’s) hand to his firm clasp. Nice touch. Mr Lidwell. Cowley it is. No-one here: Goulding and I. screaming. poor chap. George Lidwell. held a lydiahand. Molly did laugh when he went out. Best value in Dub. I’m drenched! O. Piano again. Trousers tight as a drum on him. Clean here at least. Knows whatever note you play. Musical. —Your friends are inside. With all his belongings on show. gummy with gristle. Yes. entering. To the old dingdong again. Nothing to do. Stopped. Way he sits in to it. she was back. Lydia Douce. Clean tables.

a ship. Old. Softly he sang to a dusty seascape there: A Last Farewell. —M’appari. Father Cowley said. remind you of toothache. bagstrousers. Jiggedy jingle jaunty jaunty. Cool hands. Farewell. listless. We are their harps. —Ah. The harp that once or twice. man. blast you! Ben Dollard growled. Cowley sang: 490 of 1305 . Strongly. shy. eye on the bowend. wind around her. Ben Howth. Her high long snore. I couldn’t. A headland. Girl touched it. grave. a sail upon the billows. other brass chap unscrewing. Down stage he strode some paces. Erin. Young. Simon. Gold glowering light. Night we were in the box. sawing the cello. Poop of a lovely. between the acts. Do right to hide them. his long arms outheld. the rhododendrons. Golden ship. Conductor’s legs too. Only the harp. Mr Dedalus said.Ulysses fiddles. I. —Go on. Hoarsely the apple of his throat hoarsed softly. emptying spittle. Get it out in bits. Lovely. jiggedy jiggedy. tall in affliction. He. Gravy’s rather good fit for a. her veil awave upon the wind upon the headland. Trombone under blowing like a grampus. A lovely girl.

my dancing days are done. rose higher. —Here. Up stage strode Father Cowley. He heard Joe Maas sing that one night. Richie said: Sonnambula. Play it in the original. obedient. I’ll accompany you. speeding sail. Massboy. to wind. Princes at meat they raised and drank. Simon. Simon. —Go on. sitting. Simon. —Ah. Never forget it. Choirboy style. Maas was the boy. to one departing.. Power and cider. Ben . Most beautiful tenor air ever written. She waved. faltered. 491 of 1305 . In his way.. Steak. touched the obedient keys. return. Well . mashed. confused. dear one. her veil. sure. By Graham Lemon’s pineapple rock. A lyrical tenor if you like. at meat fit for princes sat princes Bloom and Goulding.. kidney. liver. Mr Dedalus laid his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and. unhearing Cowley. Never...Ulysses —M’appari tutt’amor: Il mio sguardo l’incontr . —No. Ah.. The keys. love. what M’Guckin! Yes. Get up. he said. confessed. One flat. by Elvery’s elephant jingly jogged. Father Cowley turned. told.

Appropriate. But want a good memory. Never would Richie forget that night. A throstle. Curious types. Paying the piper. Sings too: Down among the dead men. worth a guinea a box. Next item on the programme. Coming out with a whopper now. Flaw in the glass. Particular about his drink. Fecking matches from counters to save. —All is lost now. Screwed refusing to pay his fare. Kidney pie.Ulysses Tenderly Bloom over liverless bacon saw the tightened features strain. pounded bread. Backache he. Best value in. birdsweet. good teeth he’s proud of. Power. Bright’s bright eye. As long as he lived: never. Pills. Speech paused on Richie’s lips. In the gods of the old Royal with little Peake. A thrush. Not making much hand of it. Wonderful liar. His breath. Characteristic of him. Then squander a sovereign in dribs and drabs. Stave it off awhile. A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all. Does really. fresh Vartry water. Rhapsodies about damn all. fluted with 492 of 1305 . And when the first note. Richie cocked his lips apout. —Which air is that? asked Leopold Bloom. And when he’s wanted not a farthing. Sweets to the. Believes his own lies.

Rich sound. As easy stop the sea. Brave. Echo. Now begging letters he sends his son with. Rollicking Richie once. Jokes old stale now. Bloom bent leopold ear. I know it well.Ulysses plaintive woe. said Bloom lost Leopold. Face of the all is lost. Mournful he whistled. lost. 493 of 1305 . Or he feels. Too late. She longed to go. Touch water. Apologise. Lovely air. Crosseyed Walter sir I did sir. Me? Bloom askance over liverless saw. Never in all his life had Richie Goulding. Dedalus said. Fall. Innocence in the moon. Is lost. Jingle jaunty. How is that done? All lost now. —A beautiful air. surrender. Wouldn’t trouble only I was expecting some money. Woman. Taking my motives he twined and turned them. Two notes in one there. Call name. Order. He knows it well too. Don’t know their danger. That’s why. Still hold her back. Blackbird I heard in the hawthorn valley. In sleep she went to him. turning a fringe of doyley down under the vase. Wise child that knows her father. Wagging his ear. How sweet the answer. Yes: all is lost. Napkinring in his eye. Still harping on his daughter. I remember. Yes. All most too new call is lost in all.

bald Pat is a waiter 494 of 1305 . expectant. —With it. Richie turned. her bronze and rose.. —Si Dedalus’ voice. A chord. I am most deeply obliged by your kind solicitations. Simon. Bloom signed to Pat. a lady’s grace. Dollard and Cowley still urged the lingering singer out with it. Sounds better than last time I heard. they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. —Ladies and gentlemen. Tuned probably. —When first I saw that form endearing . —I have no money but if you will lend me your attention I shall endeavour to sing to you of a heart bowed down. Braintipped. drew a voice away. longdrawn. gave and withheld: as in cool glaucous eau de Nil Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of gold.Ulysses Piano again. —It. By the sandwichbell in screening shadow Lydia. Stopped again. The harping chords of prelude closed. Simon. Simon. —It.. he said. cheek touched with flame.

for he was hard of hear by the door. relaxed. Stop. mercy of beauty. Through the hush of air a voice sang to them. When will we meet? My head it simply. low. That will do. to set ajar the door of the bar. The door of the bar. Bloom unwound slowly the elastic band of his packet. What perfume does your wife? I want to know. Pat. Perfumed for him. Love that is singing: love’s old sweet song. 495 of 1305 . Love’s old sweet sonnez la gold. Jingle all delighted. not leaves in murmur. Tenors get women by the score. gyved them fast. He can’t sing for tall hats.. heard from a person wouldn’t expect it in the least. Jing. Your head it simply swurls. and wound it round his troubled double.. Good. When first they saw. Throw flower at his feet. lost Richie Poldy. in octave. —Sorrow from me seemed to depart. waited. like no voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem dulcimers touching their still ears with words. good to hear: sorrow from them each seemed to from both depart when first they heard.Ulysses hard of hearing. her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. So. stretched it. Bloom wound a skein round four forkfingers. still hearts of their each his remembered lives. —Full of hope and all delighted . waiter. Increase their flow. not rain. waiting to hear. fourfold.

Alas the voice rose. ‘twas idle dreaming . swelling. in her satchel. give! Take! Throb. Bloom. unlooped. shining.. noded.. Wore out his wife: now sings.Ulysses Knock. There? How do you? I do well. Yes? Hands felt for the opulent. sighing. in desire. proud. That’s the chat. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out. changed: loud. a pulsing proud erect. kissing comfits. Silly man! Could have made oceans of money. Tup. Cork air softer also their brogue. There? What? Or? Phial of cachous. The hall. disnoded. Must be abstemious to sing. Tipping her tepping her tapping her topping her. Drink. Tenderness it welled: slow. a throb. raw eggs. His hands and feet sing too. Singing wrong words. full. If he doesn’t break down. But hard to tell. Last look at mirror always before she answers the door. The joy the feel 496 of 1305 . Nerves overstrung. dark to lick flow invading. half pint of cream. Bloom looped. Words? Music? No: it’s what’s behind. sage. Pores to dilate dilating. For creamy dreamy. —But alas. Glorious tone he has still. Ha. Keep a trot for the avenue. Tup. Only the two themselves. Jenny Lind soup: stock. full it throbbed.

Wish I could see his face. To pour o’er sluices pouring gushes. Lovely name you have. how sorrow seemed to part.. ray of hope is . Still hear it better here than in the bar though farther. joygush. flow. Accept my little pres. form. Can’t write. Play on her heartstrings pursestrings too. 497 of 1305 . She’s a.. Just going to write. weaker but unwearied. word charmed him Gould Lidwell.. Coincidence. Martha it is. Tup. gush. though. how look. Explain better. — .. It sang again to Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to Pat open mouth ear waiting to wait.. How strange! Today.Ulysses the warm the. Beaming. Still the name: Martha. won Pat Bloom’s heart. Lionel’s song.. How first he saw that form endearing. tupthrob. Why the barber in Drago’s always looked my face when I spoke his face in the glass. Lydia for Lidwell squeak scarcely hear so ladylike the muse unsqueaked a ray of hopk. Now! Language of love. I called you naughty boy. Flood. The voice of Lionel returned. —Each graceful look .

In cry of lionel loneliness that she should know. One love. Spanishy eyes. I turned her music. both full. Somewhere. in cry of passion dominant to love to return with deepening yet with rising chords of harmony. return! 498 of 1305 . First I saw. After her. Martha. Halt. Full voice of perfume of what perfume does your lilactrees. —Co-ome. Down she sat. Round and round slow. black lace she wore. thou lost one! Co-ome. At me. One hope.. Ah. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow Dolores shedolores.Ulysses First night when first I saw her at Mat Dillon’s in Terenure.. Yellow knees. Martha! Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief. She thanked me. We two the last. We two. thou dear one! Alone. throat warbling. Singing. must martha feel. Fate. Quick round. Bosom I saw. alluring. Yellow. For only her he waited. Waiting she sang. All looked. Luring. —Martha! Ah. chestnote. Lips laughing. —Charmed my eye . Fate. Musical chairs. Where? Here there try there here all try where. One comfort me. All ousted looked. Why did she me? Fate.

George Lidwell.. it held its flight. Lydia Douce. high. said before. soaring high. to her. Bravo. in heat.. Encore! Clapclipclap clap. to him. me. Well sung. —Bravo! Clapclap. as said before just now. Jingle by monuments of sir John Gray. speeding. Come. of the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the all. Ben Dollard. Clappyclapclap. don’t spin it out too long long breath he breath long life. us. Mina Kennedy. Pat.Ulysses —Come! It soared. Blazes Boylan’s smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloor. Good man. clapped all. Cowley. cried. two gentlemen with two tankards. aflame. enclap. 499 of 1305 . high resplendent. She ought to. Horatio onehandled Nelson. crowned. Come. soar silver orb it leaped serene. to come. said. Sound as a bell. —To me! Siopold! Consumed. you too. Simon! Clapclopclap. Simon. high. Atrot. the endlessnessnessness . To me. a bird. All clapped. reverend father Theobald Mathew. a swift pure cry. of the etherial bosom. jaunted. first gent with tank and bronze miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina. high in the effulgence symbolistic. Encore. sustained.

Ulysses heatseated. Si sang ’Twas rank and fame: in Ned Lambert’s ‘twas. laughed. blazes Boylan. Lionel Simon. on bread and water. at second. Sonnez la. descanted on that man’s glorious voice. An afterclang of Cowley’s chords closed. Sonnez la. 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 500 of 1305 . Rutland square. at first. Cloche. Never forget that night. Richie. Then you’d sing. coral lips. Slower the mare went up the hill by the Rotunda. —Seven days in jail. impatience Boylan. disserving. Lidwell his Guinness. Miss Kennedy smirked. Too slow for Boylan. Simon. singer. Father Bob Cowley played. Admiring. Lydia. But Bloom sang dumb. admired. like a garden thrush. died on the air made richer. admiring. admired. Cloche. He remembered one night long ago. Tom Kernan strutted in. second gentleman said they would partake of two more tankards if she did not mind. Mina Kennedy served. joggled the mare. Ben Dollard said. She did not mind. And Richie Goulding drank his Power and Leopold Bloom his cider drank. Second gentleman paid.

Ulysses God he never heard since love lives not a clinking voice lives not ask Lambert he can tell you too. more than all others. Vibrations. That voice was a lamentation. harking back in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening Father Cowley. We never speak as we pass by. It buzz. Now silent air. told Mr Bloom. it twanged. Brothers-in-law: relations. sing ‘TWAS RANK AND FAME in his. He drew and plucked. Richie Goulding. who nodded as he played. told him. two tiny silky chords. Ned Lambert’s. The night Si sang. Goulding. Mr Bloom. Si in Ned Lambert’s. Calmer now. While Goulding talked of Barraclough’s voice production. While big Ben Dollard talked with 501 of 1305 . face of the night. The human voice. He admires him all the more. sang ’Twas rank and fame. Rift in the lute I think. a flush struggling in his pale. Bloom ungyved his crisscrossed hands and with slack fingers plucked the slender catgut thong. Mr Bloom. wonderful. See. of the night he. He. Dedalus house. Si Dedalus. heard him. Treats him with scorn. while Tom Kernan. who played a voluntary. Richie. house. listened while he. It’s in the silence after you feel you hear.

Snivel. Corncrake croaker: belly like a poisoned pup. till we are better acquainted. more. 502 of 1305 . Forgotten. pleased. —Don’t make half so free. First gentleman told Mina that was so. He stretched more. It snapped. They sing. said she. George Lidwell told her really and truly: but she did not believe. Dignam. That that was so. Her wavyavyeavyheavyeavyevyevyhair un comb:’d. Leave her: get tired. Are you not happy in your? Twang. Let people get fond of each other: lure them on. who nodded as he smoked. Yet more Bloom stretched his string. reproachful. All songs on that theme. Yet too much happy bores. Outtohelloutofthat. who smoked. Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm. Suffer then. lighting. I too. Thou lost one. Death. that rat’s tail wriggling! Five bob I gave. Then tear asunder. And one day she with. Corpus paradisum. Explos. Big spanishy eyes goggling at nothing. Knock on the head. Jingle into Dorset street. Gone.Ulysses Simon Dedalus. Ugh. And second tankard told her so. Human life. Cruel it seems. She asked him was that so.

miss Lydia. Few lines will do. Numbers it is. But suppose you said it like: 503 of 1305 . no.Ulysses Miss Douce. A pad. Bald Pat at a sign drew nigh. Do anything you like with figures juggling. Who is this wrote? Know the name you know better. My present. —Yes. Goulding said. the first: gent with the tank: believe. —Grandest number in the whole opera. He went. Vibrations: chords those are. —It is. And you think you’re listening to the etherial. All music when you come to think. It’s so characteristic. It certainly is. Mr Bloom said. no: did not. did not believe: George Lidwell. deaf Pat. Bloom said. Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one. Musemathematics. A pen and ink. He heard. envelope: unconcerned. Always find out this equal to that. Mina. teasing the curling catgut line. Quills in the postoffice chewed and twisted. miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the tank. Callous: all for his own gut. He went. Better write it here. no: miss Dou did not: the first. All that Italian florid music is. Take out sheet notepaper. One plus two plus six is seven. did not believe: miss Kennedy. He doesn’t see my mourning. Symmetry under a cemetery wall. A pad to blot.

night I came home. Still always nice to hear. Time makes the tune. Walking. Crosshaven. Except scales up and down. obstacle race. the girl. seven times nine minus x is thirtyfive thousand. Blumenlied I bought for her. Might be what you like. Pat took plate dish knife fork. Queer because we both. Improvising. Ben. in the moonlight with those earthquake hats. Question of mood you’re in. 504 of 1305 . singing their barcaroles. over barrels. Milly no taste. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole. He heard them as a boy in Ringabella. Heard as a boy. I mean. Ben. Want to listen sharp. God. Instance he’s playing now. It’s on account of the sounds it is. through wirefences. Queenstown harbour full of Italian ships. It was the only language Mr Dedalus said to Ben. Door of the stables near Cecilia street. till you hear the words. you know. Two together nextdoor neighbours.Ulysses Martha. Ringabella. Hard. Blending their voices. Fall quite flat. The name. Playing it slow. Ought to invent dummy pianos for that. a girl. In and out of sacks. Pat set with ink pen quite flat pad. Begin all right: then hear chords a bit off: feel lost a bit. girls learning. such music. Pat went. Bald deaf Pat brought quite flat pad ink.

have you the? So excited. Can’t see now. Other world she 505 of 1305 . Elijah is com. No. your other eye.. Dear Henry wrote: dear Mady. two and six. yes. Two about here. replying. Yes. To keep it up. Do you despise? Jingle. a call from afar. To write today. Hold on. He held unfurled his Freeman. It is utterl imposs. Penny the gulls. Down the edge of his Freeman baton ranged Bloom’s. Hope he’s not looking. On. Callan. Mairy lost the string of her. clear from anear. Bored Bloom tambourined gently with I am just reflecting fingers on flat pad Pat brought. Bloo mur: dear sir. Want to. My poor little pres: p. o. Coleman. Why do you call me naught? You naughty too? O.Ulysses Sour pipe removed he held a shield of hand beside his lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall. Know what I mean. Remember write Greek ees. Bore this. Is eight about. Aha! Just I was looking . change that ee. Ask her no answ. cute as a rat. Underline imposs. Accep my poor litt pres enclos. will tell you. Dignam Patrick. scanning for where did I see that. Got your lett and flow. Call me that other. Bloom dipped.. Seven Davy Byrne’s. Five Dig. Bye for today. Hell did I put? Some pock or oth. Say half a crown. Write me a long. Heigho! Heigho! Fawcett.

You know how. The tank. That’s marriage does. My patience are exhaust. tailor and cutter. Henry. By Dlugacz’ porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a gallantbuttocked mare. and wearing a straw hat very dressy.Ulysses wrote. Keep young. their wives. I expect. It. Card in my high grade ha. —Yes. —Answering an ad? keen Richie’s eyes asked Bloom. Intermezzo. No. Bloom mur: best references. Folly am I writing? Husbands don’t. P. hatter. Town traveller. In haste. What is he playing now? Improvising. A hackney car. stylishly dressed in an indigoblue serge suit made by George Robert Mesias. driver Barton James of number one Harmony avenue. True. Useless pain. Better add postscript. Believe. Woman. number three hundred and twentyfour. S. Sauce for the gander. a young gentleman. Because I’m away from. bought of John Plasto of number one Great Brunswick street. To keep it up. of number five Eden quay. The rum tum tum. on which sat a fare. Mr Bloom said. If they don’t see. Is. Donnybrook. Eh? This is the jingle that joggled and jingled. How 506 of 1305 . Nothing doing. But Henry wrote: it will excite me. But how? She must. Greek ee. Suppose. You must believe. If she found out. not tell all.

U. P. Payment at the rate of guinea per col. Shakespeare said. Dolphin’s Barn Lane Dublin Blot over the other so he can’t read. S. Idea prize titbit. So lonely. Poor Mrs Purefoy. La la la ree. One life is all. Address. There. Wisdom while you wait. limited. Music did that. But do. Music hath charms. Henry wrote: Miss Martha Clifford c/o P. Course if I didn’t I wouldn’t ask.Ulysses will you pun? You punish me? Crooked skirt swinging. Just copy out of paper. Tell me I want to. 507 of 1305 . Murmured: Messrs Callan. He blotted quick on pad of Pat. Why minor sad? Sign H. O. P. Coleman and Co. I feel so sad today. In Gerard’s rosery of Fetter lane he walks. whack by. Know. O. Envel. Dee. La ree. Too poetical that about the sad. La la la ree. Something detective read off blottingpad. They like sad tail at end. One body. greyedauburn. Matcham often thinks the laughing witch. Trails off there sad in minor. Quotations every day in the year. P: up. Right. Do. To be or not to be.

Pat is a waiter hard of his hearing. —Listen! she bade him. Postal order. Dislike that job. Hee hee hee hee. Car near there now. time. Pat is a waiter who waits while you wait. Authentic fact. He waits while you wait. Wish they’d sing more. might hear. Talk. She had a gorgeous. Douce Lydia. George Lidwell. Douce now. Pat! Doesn’t hear. Enough. Walk. Hee hee hee hee. To the end of the bar to him she bore lightly the spiked and winding seahorn that he. Wait while you wait. simply gorgeous. Settling those napkins. Hoh.Ulysses Done anyhow. Hee hee. While you wait if you wait he will wait while you wait. Walk now. How Walter Bapty lost 508 of 1305 . Bronze and rose. He waits while you wait. Keep my mind off. Deaf beetle he is. Barney Kiernan’s I promised to meet them. Under Tom Kernan’s ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow. Hee hee hee hee. Postoffice lower down. Paint face behind on him then he’d be two. Talk. House of mourning. And look at the lovely shell she brought. Lot of ground he must cover in the day. Pat! Doesn’t. solicitor. stamp. Bald Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins. A waiter is he.

why? Her eyes over the sheet. He did. Lovely seaside girls. faith. Cowley lay back. Should have put on coldcream first make it brown. Wonderful. the peeping lobe there. Her ear too is a shell. Bronze by a weary gold. Been to the seaside. She held it to her own.Ulysses his voice. hearing the plash of waves. You’ll sing no more lovesongs. now he heard. Bob Cowley wove. Bloom through the bardoor saw a shell held at their ears. To hear. Buttered toast. And through the sifted light pale gold in contrast glided. Your head it simply. Skin tanned raw. Scoundrel. Hear! He heard. Yashmak. 509 of 1305 . said he. Hair braided over: shell with seaweed. sir Tom. the husband took him by the throat. Tenors get wom. He heard more faintly that that they heard. Ah. Find the way in. Well. No admittance except on business. then each for other. loudly. Tap. each for herself alone. sir. Why do they hide their ears with seaweed hair? And Turks the mouth. a silent roar. she holding it to his ear. O and that lotion mustn’t forget. they listened. A cave. Fever near her mouth. afar. anear.

four. Boylan swayed and Boylan turned. No. Well. Tap. Souse in the ear sometimes. A roar. Long John. arch and smiling. No. George Lidwell held its murmur. With whom? She nobly answered: with a gentleman friend. Walks in the moonlight by the sea. 510 of 1305 . So distinct.Ulysses The sea they think they hear. Big Ben. by Larry. gentlemen friends. The landlord has the prior. Bob Cowley’s twinkling fingers in the treble played again. she was not so lonely archly miss Douce’s head let Mr Lidwell know. The blood it is. one: two. From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her tankards waiting. seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled. it’s a sea. Corpuscle islands. gently. one. Wonderful really. By Larry O’Rourke’s. not alone. Again. and for their gallants. Charming. hearing: then laid it by. three. —What are the wild waves saying? he asked her. one. one. Singing. A little time. bold Larry O’. smiled. Lightly he played a light bright tinkling measure for tripping ladies. One: one. one.

Never have written it. But both are joys. I’m warm. look. Peasants outside. Acoustics that is. My wife and your wife. the cattlemarket. O. Misery. Look: look. Fill me. That’s joyful I can feel. There’s music everywhere. look we are so! Chamber music. wind. It is a kind of music I often thought when she. Tongue when she talks like the clapper of a bellows. Tinkling. snakes hissss. Like tearing silk. look. Could make a kind of pun on that. Mere fact of music shows you are. the resonance changes 511 of 1305 . dark. Minuet of Don Giovanni he’s playing now. joy it must be. No. look: you look at us. Empty vessels make most noise. Gap in their voices too. open. Why? My joy is other joy. that’s noise. Molly in quis est homo: Mercadante. Yes. waters. Often thought she was in the dumps till she began to lilt. M’Coy valise. Ruttledge’s door: ee creaking. Want a woman who can deliver the goods. Nice that is. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. look. thunder. cocks. Court dresses of all descriptions in castle chambers dancing. hens don’t crow. Green starving faces eating dockleaves. Because the acoustics. cows lowing. Jog jig jogged stopped. They can’t manage men’s intervals. Squealing cat.Ulysses Sea. My ear against the wall to hear. leaves. Then know.

—Qui sdegno. He’s on for a razzle backache spree. He came. do. I’ll go. Good men and true. Here. Deaf. —Ay do. Tom Kernan interfered. Got money somewhere. —No. Come. Yes. How much? —What key? Six sharps? —F sharp major. Penny for yourself. Here. One rapped on a door. One and nine. Our native Doric. Hungarian. Ben Dollard said. bothered. The Croppy Boy. Pearls. Much? He seehears lipspeech. Richie said. Tap. Give him twopence tip. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Ben. But perhaps he has wife and family 512 of 1305 . No. said Father Cowley. gipsyeyed. Must go prince Bloom told Richie prince. Bob Cowley’s outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords. he did not stay. one tapped with a knock. Ben. return. Ben. he came. Mr Dedalus said. Maybe now. Pat. must. did he knock Paul de Kock with a loud proud knocker with a cock carracarracarra cock. Cockcock. Now. Drops.Ulysses according as the weight of the water is equal to the law of falling water. To me. Before. Rain. Like those rhapsodies of Liszt’s. they begged in one. —Do. Hissss.

Tap. ships’ lanterns. Hee hee hee hee. Failed to the tune of ten thousand pounds. Then build them cubicles to end their days in. The voice of dark age. Embedded ore. of unlove. In a cave of the dark middle earth.Ulysses waiting. Base barreltone. Ruin them. A false priest’s servant bade him welcome. Little dog. Cubicle number so and so. Remember: rosiny ropes. from hoary mountains. Ben Dollard’s voice. But wait. Lumpmusic. dog. Number one Bass did that for him. die. Lugugugubrious. earth’s fatigue made grave approach and painful. Doing his level best to say it. The holy father. With bows a traitor servant. waiting Patty come home. Hushaby. 513 of 1305 . But hear. The priest he sought. With him would he speak a word. Croak of vast manless moonless womoonless marsh. Other comedown. Curlycues of chords. Lullaby. Big ships’ chandler’s business he did once. The priest’s at home. Deaf wait while they wait. Wreck their lives. Low. Chords dark. Die. come from afar. Step in. Now in the Iveagh home. called on good men and true.

in nomine Domini. Thinks he’ll win in Answers. Latin again. in God’s name he knelt. And by the door deaf Pat. Chap in the mortuary. Priest with the communion corpus for those women.Ulysses The voice of warning. Decent soul. Bit addled now. The chords harped slower. confessing: mea culpa. No eunuch yet with all his belongings. solemn warning. Ben’s contrite beard confessed. Wonder where that rat is by now. listened. We hand you crisp five pound note. embellished. Bird sitting hatching in a nest. told them the youth had entered a lonely hall. That holds them like birdlime. He beat his hand upon his breast. corpusnomine. tipped Pat. Scrape. Bloom listened. 514 of 1305 . The voice of penance and of grief came slow. poets’ picture puzzle. the vested priest sitting to shrive. told them how solemn fell his footsteps there. coffin or coffey. Tap. tremulous. Lay of the last minstrel he thought it was. Listen. Good voice he has still. bald Pat. told them the gloomy chamber. See blank tee what domestic animal? Tee dash ar most courageous mariner. Richie Goulding listened.

Cockcarracarra. listening. Mirror there. That’s music too. Custom his country perhaps. gashes in their sides. Knock at the door. Remind him of home sweet home. Bronze gazed far sideways. Si. Night Michael Gunn gave us the box. Tankards and miss Kennedy. Tootling. Doesn’t half know I’m. Soulfully. A boy. What do they think when they hear music? Way to catch rattlesnakes. Once by the churchyard he had passed and for his mother’s rest he had not prayed. Tuning up. Brasses braying asses through uptrunks. Woodwind like Goodwin’s name. by the beerpull gazed far away. Molly great dab at seeing anyone looking. Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws. Last tip to titivate. Is that best side of her face? They always know. You bitch’s bast. Bronze. Not as bad as it sounds. Woodwinds mooing cows. The sighing voice of sorrow sang. George Lidwell. eyelid well expressive. Kernan. Doublebasses helpless. 515 of 1305 . fullbusted satin. Shah of Persia liked that best. His sins. Since Easter he had cursed three times. Wiped his nose in curtain too. A croppy boy.Ulysses They listened. And once at masstime he had gone to play.

he would. Too late now. Beauty of music you must hear twice. She bent. O rocks! All gone. Hate. My country above the king. She listens. To Wexford. At the siege of Ross his father. Clove her breath was always in theatre when she bent to ask a question. Milly young student. Hypnotised. to Bloom soon old. Last of my race. Big Ben his voice unfolded. No son. Rudy. But when was young? Ireland comes now. my fault perhaps. Looked enough. at Gorey all his brothers fell. Nature woman half a look. Met him pike hoses. belongings on show. Chap in dresscircle staring down into her with his operaglass for all he was worth. Who fears to speak of nineteen four? Time to be shoving. a flush struggling in his pale. Told her what Spinoza says in that book of poor papa’s. Well. Rudy. Philosophy. we are the boys of Wexford. Those are names. Great voice Richie Goulding said. Last of his name and race. Soon I am old. I too. God made the country man the tune.Ulysses She looked fine. Eyes like that. All fallen. Or if not? If not? If still? He bore no hate. 516 of 1305 . listening. Love. Her crocus dress she wore lowcut.

517 of 1305 . Three holes. That’s why he gets them. By the sad sea waves. Fellows shell out the dibs. Dollard the croppy cried. Goddess I didn’t see. The false priest rustling soldier from his cassock. despair. They know it all by heart. Virgin should say: or fingered only. those lovely. all women. Not too much polite. If not what becomes of them? Decline.Ulysses —Bless me. Lip blow. Letters read out for breach of promise. See. From Chickabiddy’s owny Mumpsypum. Write something on it: page. Chorusgirl’s romance. Low sank the music. Blank face. Those girls. air and words. Gold in your pocket. The thrill they itch for. Yeoman cap. Laughter in court. Tap. Bless me and let me go. They want it. Blow gentle. Tap. Even admire themselves. Henry. A yeoman captain. Thrilled she listened. bending in sympathy to hear. Want to keep your weathereye open. Bloom looked. Say something. a flute alive. Play on her. Then hastened. unblessed to go. I never signed it. Keeps them young. Tap. Make her hear. Got up to kill: on eighteen bob a week. The lovely name you. father. Body of white woman. Loud. brass in your face.

At each slow satiny heaving bosom’s wave (her heaving embon) red rose rose slowly sank red rose. calmly. The morn. My lips closed. Think in my stom. And all the tiny tiny fernfoils trembled of maidenhair. Hope she’s over. Heartbeats: her breath: breath that is life. Ha. For all things dying. I like 518 of 1305 . Want. Thrill now. swelling in apoplectic bitch’s bastard. What? Will? You? I. Molly. to come. Infatuated. See real beauty of the eye when she not speaks. A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a fence of lashes. hearing. To wipe away a tear for martyrs that want to. You. Or because so like the Spanish. Tap. One hour’s your time to live. that hurdygurdy boy. To.Ulysses With look to look. Poor Mrs Purefoy. boy. Lidwell. Pity they feel. Solomon did. But look. Because their wombs. The bright stars fade. She knew he meant the monkey was sick. Tap. With hoarse rude fury the yeoman cursed. Gift of nature. Understand animals too that way. Ventriloquise. A good thought. For him then not for. die. dying to. your last. O rose! Castile. for all things born. On yonder river. Songs without words.

Popped corks. a cool firm white enamel baton protruding through their sliding ring. Get out before the end. her eyes) her thumb and finger passed in pity: passed. 519 of 1305 . Bloom stood up. Amen. Fro. The chords consented. Are you off? Yrfmstbyes. Must have sweated: music. walk. All lost in pity for croppy. Suppose she were the? No. O’er ryehigh blue. Walk. He gnashed in fury. Can leave that Freeman.Ulysses that? See her from here though. Blmstup. remember. reposed and. Tap. On the smooth jutting beerpull laid Lydia hand. plumply. lightly. Like Cashel Boylo Connoro Coylo Tisdall Maurice Tisntdall Farrell. to: to. Where’s my hat. Soap feeling rather sticky behind. Waaaaaaalk. That lotion. then slid so smoothly. Very sad thing. High grade. fro: over the polished knob (she knows his eyes. walk. gently touching. so long. slowly down. With a cock with a carra. my eyes. Yes. Letter I have. Tap. leave it to my hands. Card inside. But had to be. I must be. stacks of empties. splashes of beerfroth. Traitors swing. Ow. Thanks. Well. Well. Tap. Pass by her. that was heavenly. I hold this house.

520 of 1305 . General chorus off for a swill to wash it down. —Lablache. —Come on.Ulysses By deaf Pat in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed. By God. Tap. by the fondling hand. you’re as good as ever you were. greeting in going. boots not the boots the boy. Dolor! O. fat backslapping. said Tomgin Kernan. said Father Cowley. good people. You who hear in peace. Glad I avoided. At Geneva barrack that young man died. upon my soul and honour It is. soft Bloom. by satiny bosom. He was the croppy boy. he dolores! The voice of the mournful chanter called to dolorous prayer. by slops. Scaring eavesdropping boots croppy bootsboy Bloom in the Ormond hallway heard the growls and roars of bravo. Most trenchant rendition of that ballad. good men. Pray for him. I feel so lonely Bloom. At Passage was his body laid. —Better. Tap. by empties. bronze and faint gold in deepseashadow. Simon Dedalus cried. their boots all treading. Tap. Ben. past eyes and maidenhair. By rose. prayed the bass of Dollard. by popped corks. drop a tear. Breathe a prayer. went Bloom.

521 of 1305 . Ward. And deepmoved all. Ben Dollard growled. Big Benben. Tank one believed: miss Kenn when she: that doll he was: she doll: the tank. Simon trumping compassion from foghorn nose. Rrr. —Mr Dollard. Rrrrrrrsss. —Ben machree. his gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes in the air. Big Benaben Dollard. Big Benben. —Dollard. —Fat of death. they murmured low. Tap. murmured tankard. Ben Dollard. Tap. Tap. Miss Mina Kennedy brought near her lips to ear of tankard one. on heavyfooted feet. all laughing they brought him forth. Simon. said Mr Dedalus. Richie rift in the lute alone sat: Goulding. in right good cheer. clapping Ben’s fat back shoulderblade. Uncertainly he waited. Miss Douce composed her rose to wait. Fit as a fiddle only he has a lot of adipose tissue concealed about his person. George Lidwell said. mightily praisefed and all big roseate. —You’re looking rubicund.Ulysses Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the bar. Unpaid Pat too. Collis. Tap.

Far. yes. was it? Dollard.Ulysses He murmured that he knew the name. Tap. ’Tis the last rose of summer dollard left bloom felt wind wound round inside. Tap. Dodge round by Greek street. Far. Ben Howth. Yes. Mr Dollard. Mina loved that song. Her hand that rocks the cradle rules the. her lips said more loudly. That was to say he had heard the name of. Get shut of it. Wait. he stuns himself with it: kind of drunkenness. Tankard loved the song that Mina. Far. Up the quay went Lionelleopold. Dollard. Wish I hadn’t promised to meet. The name was familiar to him. Better give way only half way the way of a man with a 522 of 1305 . with sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul with met him pike hoses went Poldy on. Gets on your nerves. Tap blind walked tapping by the tap the curbstone tapping. Freer in air. Tap. And The last rose of summer was a lovely song. That rules the world. Gassy thing that cider: binding too. tap by tap. Cowley. Postoffice near Reuben J’s one and eightpence too. Far. Mr Dollard. murmured Mina. He sang that song lovely. naughty Henry with letter for Mady. that is to say. Music. Tap. Beerpull.

Tap. You daren’t budge. In Bloom’s little wee. I was with him this morning at poor little Paddy Dignam’s . 523 of 1305 . Unpleasant when it stops because you never know exac. —By the bye there’s a tuningfork in there on the . returning with fetched pipe.. Fiddlefaddle about notes. —The wife has a fine voice. Dotty. Tap. alone. All a kind of attempt to talk.Ulysses maid. the Lord have mercy on him. then all of a soft sudden wee little wee little pipy wind. Always talking shop. Instance enthusiasts.. talking to himself or the other fellow blowing the bellows. —Ay. Seated all day at the organ. Not lose a demisemiquaver. Or had. —Was he? Mr Dedalus said. Queer up there in the cockloft. All ears. Thinking strictly prohibited. Maunder on for hours. Growl angry. Head nodding in time.. Old Glynn fifty quid a year. Organ in Gardiner street. then shriek cursing (want to have wadding or something in his no don’t she cried). Eyes shut. Pwee! A wee little wind piped eeee. Tap.. Tap. with stops and locks and keys. What? Lidwell asked.

Collis. Tap. Wonder how it first struck him. Exquisite contrast: bronzelid. Messrs Pick and Pocket have power of attorney. one lonely. Tap —Very. for choice. minagold. That wonderworker if I had. His vocation: Mickey Rooney’s band. staring hard at a headless sardine. Tap. Tap. —Shout! Ben Dollard shouted. Tap. he stared. Litigation. treat to hear. Tap. last sardine of summer. Sing out! —’lldo! cried Father Cowley. And played so exquisitely. Wish I could. Tap.Ulysses —O. pouring. Tap. Counted them. Tap. Rrrrrr. Ward. Goulding. Wait. that must be the tuner. Tap. Tap. Lydia said to Simonlionel first I saw. Sitting at home after pig’s cheek and cabbage 524 of 1305 . Love one another.. Bloom alone. Under the sandwichbell lay on a bier of bread one last. Twentyfour solicitors in that one house. Tap. Tap. Bloom went by Barry’s. The lower register. forgot it when he was here. But for example the chap that wallops the big drum. Piles of parchment. —Very. I feel I want .. Mr Dedalus said. Blind he was she told George Lidwell second I saw.

with 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). Towncrier. Seems to be what you call yashmak or I mean kismet. I know. march along. then blow. Just a question of custom shah of Persia. coolest whiff of all. I mean of course it’s all pom pom pom very much what they call da capo. A stripling. Pom. Wallop. hair down. Dignam. Pom. I suppose each kind of trade made its own. Haw. Asses’ skins. Waken the dead. It is music. then wallop after death. Locks and keys! Sweep! Four o’clock’s all’s well! Sleep! All is lost now. Long John. we march along. Have you the? Cloche. I must really. Instruments. drop a tear. Pom. Tap. All the same he must have been a bit of a natural not 525 of 1305 . Breathe a prayer. Welt them through life.Ulysses nursing it in the armchair. Even comb and tissuepaper you can knock a tune out of. Fate. Pompedy. As we march. bumbailiff. Tap. Rehearsing his band part. Drum? Pompedy. don’t you see? Hunter with a horn. Pom. Poor little nominedomine. Still you can hear. blind. shell of her hands. A blade of grass. Policeman a whistle. Wait. mermaid. Sonnez la. Pwee little wee. Molly in her shift in Lombard street west. Jolly for the wife. Shepherd his pipe. Fff. Now if I did that at a banquet. Pom.

Sees me. What is she? Hope she. it is. well hardly ever. Wet night in the lane. Cheap. Horn. Look in here. She’s passing now. Appointment we made knowing we’d never. that. When first he saw that form endearing? Yes. Might learn to play. Who had the? Heehaw shesaw. does she? Looks a fright in the day. Muffled up. the whore of the lane! A frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the day along the quay towards Mr Bloom. Off her beat here. Chap sold me the Swedish razor he shaved me with. O. 526 of 1305 . Damn her. Make you buy what he wants to sell. Face like dip. Knew Molly. Wanted to charge me for the edge he gave it. Wonder who was that chap at the grave in the brown macin. Had me decked. Let her pass. O. Stout lady does be with you in the brown costume. well. Psst! Any chance of your wash. Too dear too near to home sweet home. Course everything is dear if you don’t want it. That’s what good salesman is. Put you off your stroke. I feel so lonely.Ulysses to see it was a yeoman cap. she has to live like the rest. Bargain: six bob. 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. Six bob.

Kernan and big Ben Dollard. Nor Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. Prrprr. Hee hee hee hee. Ker. He saw not gold. Cow. Tschunk. De. A youth entered a lonely Ormond hall. rose of Castile. Fff! Oo. —Ay. 527 of 1305 . They lifted. He saw not bronze. Seabloom. Of Meyerbeer that is. Bob Cowley. Softly. Ben. ay. Tip. Si Dedalus. Robert Emmet’s last words. When my country takes her place among. Tap. Tschink. —True men like you men. Near bronze from anear near gold from afar they chinked their clinking glasses all. Seven last words. a fifth: Lidwell. greaseabloom viewed last words. Bloom viewed a gallant pictured hero in Lionel Marks’s window. before bronze Lydia’s tempting last rose of summer. He did not see. First Lid. Rrpr.Ulysses Must be the cider or perhaps the burgund. Must be the bur. Doll. An unseeing stripling stood in the door. brighteyed and gallant. —Will lift your glass with us.

How are you blowing? Did you see that bloody chimneysweep near shove my eye out with his brush? —Soot’s luck. Written. —Lo. —What are you doing round those parts? says Joe. Pprrpffrrppffff. Who’s the old ballocks you were talking to? —Old Troy. She’s passed.Ulysses Nations of the earth. 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. Let my epitaph be. says I. Good oppor. I’m sure it’s the burgund. was in the force. Yes. No-one behind. Done. two. Kraaaaaa. ***** I was just passing the time of day with old Troy of the D. Tram kran kran kran. I turned around to let him have the weight of my tongue when who should I see dodging along Stony Batter only Joe Hynes. Then and not till then. One. Krandlkrankran. I have. P. says I. M. says Joe. Coming. I’m on two minds not to give that fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and ladders. 528 of 1305 . Joe.

Wood quay 529 of 1305 . says he. and I doubledare him to send you round here again or if he does. I’ll have him summonsed up before the court. of 13 Saint Kevin’s parade in the city of Dublin.Ulysses —Devil a much. so I will. He eat me my sugars. —Ay. 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. —Circumcised? says Joe. Tell him. says I. And he after stuffing himself till he’s fit to burst. says he. says I. I dare him. Because he no pay me my moneys? For nonperishable goods bought of Moses Herzog. says he. for trading without a licence. —That the lay you’re on now? says Joe. 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 hopof-my-thumb by the name of Moses Herzog over there near Heytesbury street. —Ay. I had to laugh at the little jewy getting his shirt out. A bit off the top. An old plumber named Geraghty. says I. He drink me my teas. I’m hanging on to his taw now for the past fortnight and I can’t get a penny out of him. How are the mighty fallen! Collector of bad and doubtful debts. Jesus.

crushed crystal. gentleman. —Are you a strict t. of 29 Arbour hill in the city of Dublin. his heirs. esquire. hereinafter called the vendor. Arran quay ward. the 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 vendor. his heirs. 530 of 1305 .t. Geraghty. and sold and delivered to Michael E.? says Joe. successors. trustees and assigns of the one part and the said purchaser. trustees and assigns of the other part. five pounds avoirdupois of first choice tea at three shillings and no pence per pound avoirdupois and three stone avoirdupois of sugar. videlicet.Ulysses ward. at threepence per pound avoirdupois. merchant. hereinafter called the purchaser. successors.

So we went around by the Linenhall barracks and the back of the courthouse talking of one thing or another. says I. says Joe. about the foot and mouth disease. Joe? —Not a word. the land of holy Michan. —Ay. Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it. I couldn’t get over that bloody foxy Geraghty. Whisky and water on the brain. Joe? says I. I want to give the citizen the hard word about it. says I. —Barney mavourneen’s be it. —Who? says I. Jesus. says he. There rises a watchtower beheld of men afar. says Joe. he’s out in John of God’s off his head. —What about paying our respects to our friend? says Joe. —-What was that. —Cattle traders. I was up at that meeting in the City Arms. 531 of 1305 . poor man. Sure. Anything strange or wonderful. says I. In Inisfail the fair there lies a land. says Joe. the daylight robber.Ulysses —Not taking anything between drinks. I want to see the citizen. —Drinking his own stuff? says Joe. For trading without a licence. —Come around to Barney Kiernan’s.

codlings. princes. the halibut. the eugenic eucalyptus and other ornaments of the arboreal world with which that region is thoroughly well supplied. purple seagems and playful insects. drafts of eels. 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. the exalted planetree. the brill. from Eblana to Slievemargy. And heroes voyage from afar to woo them. the plaice. the mixed coarse fish generally and other denizens of the aqueous kingdom too numerous to be enumerated. the roach. the pollock. creels of fingerlings. the grilse.Ulysses There sleep the mighty dead as in life they slept. the dab. 532 of 1305 . crans of herrings. fishful streams where sport the gurnard. the flounder. the gibbed haddock. warriors and princes of high renown. silvery fishes. the sons of kings. In the mild breezes of the west and of the east the lofty trees wave in different directions their firstclass foliage. A pleasant land it is in sooth of murmuring waters. the wafty sycamore. the Lebanonian cedar. the 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 Boyle.

drums of figs. Rangoon beans. Geraghty. pineapple chunks. Come out here. Thither the extremely large wains bring foison of the fields. flaskets of cauliflowers. drills of Swedes. and I doubledare him. strikes of tomatoes. and strawberries fit for princes and raspberries from their canes. pearls of the earth.Ulysses 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 purpose. and 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 gooseberries. spherical potatoes and tallies of iridescent kale. says he. and thither come all herds and fatlings and firstfruits of that land for O’Connell Fitzsimon takes toll of them. a chieftain descended from chieftains. York and Savoy. I dare him. 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 533 of 1305 . and trays of onions. floats of spinach. pulpy and pelurious.


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, cackling, roaring, lowing, bleating, bellowing, rumbling, grunting, champing, chewing, of sheep and pigs and heavyhooved kine from pasturelands of Lusk and Rush and Carrickmines and from the streamy vales of Thomond, from the M’Gillicuddy’s reeks the inaccessible and lordly Shannon the unfathomable, and from the gentle declivities of the place of the race of Kiar, their 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 hundreds, various in size, the agate with this dun. So we turned into Barney Kiernan’s and there, sure enough, was the citizen up in the corner having a great confab with himself and that bloody mangy mongrel, Garryowen, and he waiting for what the sky would drop in the way of drink. —There he is, says I, in his gloryhole, with his cruiskeen lawn and his load of papers, working for the cause. The bloody mongrel let a grouse out of him would give you the creeps. Be a corporal work of mercy if 534 of 1305


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 deliver, says he. —That’s all right, citizen, says Joe. Friends here. —Pass, friends, says 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. But, begob, Joe was equal to the occasion. —I think the markets are on a rise, says he, sliding 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 Joe, sticking his thumb in his pocket: —It’s the Russians wish to tyrannise. —Arrah, give over your bloody codding, Joe, says I. I’ve a thirst on me I wouldn’t sell for half a crown. —Give it a name, citizen, says Joe. —Wine of the country, says he. —What’s yours? says Joe. —Ditto MacAnaspey, says I. 535 of 1305


—Three pints, Terry, says Joe. And how’s the old heart, citizen? says he. —Never better, a chara, says he. What Garry? Are we going to win? Eh? And with that he took the bloody old towser by the scruff of the neck and, by Jesus, he 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 covered, as was likewise the rest of his body wherever visible, with a strong growth of tawny prickly hair in hue and toughness similar to the mountain gorse (Ulex Europeus). The widewinged nostrils, from 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 536 of 1305


the loud strong hale reverberations of his formidable heart thundered rumblingly causing the ground, the 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 deerskin, roughly stitched with gut. His nether extremities were encased in high Balbriggan buskins dyed in lichen purple, the 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 antiquity, Cuchulin, Conn of hundred battles, Niall of nine hostages, Brian of Kincora, the ardri Malachi, Art MacMurragh, Shane O’Neill, Father John Murphy, Owen Roe, Patrick Sarsfield, Red Hugh O’Donnell, Red Jim MacDermott, Soggarth Eoghan O’Growney, Michael Dwyer, Francy Higgins, Henry Joy M’Cracken, Goliath, Horace Wheatley, Thomas Conneff, Peg Woffington, the Village Blacksmith, Captain Moonlight, Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. Fursa, S. 537 of 1305


Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn’t, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O’Donovan Rossa, Don 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 538 of 1305


was sunk in uneasy slumber, a 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 O, as true as I’m telling you. A goodlooking sovereign. —And there’s more where that came from, says he. —Were you robbing the poorbox, Joe? says I. —Sweat of my brow, says Joe. ‘Twas the prudent member gave me the wheeze. —I saw him before I met you, says I, sloping 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 land, bedight 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 street, says the citizen, the subsidised organ. The pledgebound party on the floor of the house. And look at this blasted rag, says he. Look at this, says he. The Irish Independent, if you please, founded by Parnell to be the workingman’s friend.

539 of 1305


Listen to the births and deaths in the Irish all for Ireland Independent, and I’ll thank you and the marriages. And he starts reading them out: —Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne’s on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son. How’s that, eh? Wright and Flint, Vincent and Gillett to Rotha Marion daughter of Rosa and the late George Alfred Gillett, 179 Clapham road, Stockwell, Playwood and Ridsdale at Saint Jude’s, Kensington by the very reverend Dr Forrest, dean of Worcester. Eh? Deaths. Bristow, at Whitehall lane, London: Carr, Stoke Newington, of gastritis and heart disease: Cockburn, at the Moat house, Chepstow ... —I know that fellow, says Joe, from bitter experience. —Cockburn. Dimsey, wife of David Dimsey, late of the admiralty: Miller, Tottenham, aged eightyfive: Welsh, June 12, at 35 Canning street, Liverpool, Isabella Helen. How’s that for a national press, eh, my brown son! How’s that for Martin Murphy, the Bantry jobber? —Ah, well, says Joe, handing round the boose. Thanks be to God they had the start of us. Drink that, citizen. —I will, says he, honourable person. —Health, Joe, says I. And all down the form.

540 of 1305


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 lo, as they quaffed their cup of joy, a godlike messenger came swiftly in, radiant as the eye of heaven, a comely youth and behind him there passed an elder of noble gait and countenance, bearing 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 snug, squeezed 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 him, unfortunate wretched woman, trotting like a poodle. I thought Alf would split. —Look at him, says 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. 541 of 1305


—Libel action, says he, for 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 husht, says he. —Who? says Joe. —Breen, says 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 God, I’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. —Bergan, says Bob Doran, waking up. Is that Alf Bergan? —Yes, says Alf. Hanging? Wait till I show you. Here, Terry, give 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? 542 of 1305


—Hurry up, Terry boy, says 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 alevats, cunning 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 toil, those cunning brothers, lords of the vat. Then did you, chivalrous Terence, hand forth, as to the manner born, that nectarous beverage and you offered the crystal cup to him that thirsted, the soul of chivalry, in beauty akin to the immortals. But he, the young chief of the O’Bergan’s, could 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 port, scion of the house of Brunswick, Victoria her name, Her Most Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the British dominions beyond the sea, queen, defender of the faith, Empress of India, even she, who bore rule, a victress over many peoples, the 543 of 1305


wellbeloved, for they knew and loved her from the rising of the sun to the going down thereof, the pale, the dark, the ruddy and the ethiop. —What’s that bloody freemason doing, says the citizen, prowling up and down outside? —What’s that? says Joe. —Here you are, says Alf, chucking 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 injun, says 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 times, Alf? —I don’t know, says Alf I saw him just now in Capel street with Paddy Dignam. Only I was running after that ... —You what? says Joe, throwing down the letters. With who? 544 of 1305


—With Dignam, says Alf. —Is it Paddy? says Joe. —Yes, says Alf. Why? —Don’t you know he’s dead? says Joe. —Paddy Dignam dead! says Alf. —Ay, says Joe. —Sure I’m after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf, as plain as a pikestaff. —Who’s dead? says Bob Doran. —You saw his ghost then, says Joe, God between us and harm. —What? says Alf. Good Christ, only five ... What? ... And Willy Murray with him, the 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 so, says Joe. They took the liberty of burying him this morning anyhow. —Paddy? says Alf. —Ay, says Joe. He paid the debt of nature, God be merciful to him. —Good Christ! says Alf. Begob he was what you might call flabbergasted. 545 of 1305


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 visible, the 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 talafana, alavatar, hatakalda, 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 546 of 1305


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 earth, who 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 establishment, a personal friend of the defunct, who 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.

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He is gone from mortal haunts: O’Dignam, sun of our morning. Fleet was his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. Wail, Banba, with your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your whirlwind. —There he is again, says the citizen, staring out. —Who? says I. —Bloom, says he. He’s on point duty up and down there for the last ten minutes. And, begob, I saw his physog do a peep in and then slidder off again. Little Alf was knocked bawways. Faith, he was. —Good Christ! says he. I could have sworn it was him. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he’s under the influence: —Who said Christ is good? —I beg your parsnips, says Alf. —Is that a good Christ, says Bob Doran, to take away poor little Willy Dignam? —Ah, well, says Alf, trying to pass it off. He’s over all his troubles. But Bob Doran shouts out of him. —He’s a bloody ruffian, I say, to take away poor little Willy Dignam. 548 of 1305


Terry came down and tipped him the wink to keep quiet, that they didn’t want that kind of talk in a respectable licensed premises. And Bob Doran starts doing the weeps about Paddy Dignam, true as you’re there. —The finest man, says he, snivelling, the 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, Mooney, the bumbailiff’s daughter, mother 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 her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour. —The noblest, the truest, says he. And he’s gone, poor little Willy, poor 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 in, come on, he won’t eat you, says the citizen. So Bloom slopes in with his cod’s eye on the dog and he asks Terry was Martin Cunningham there. 549 of 1305


—O, Christ M’Keown, says Joe, reading one of the letters. Listen to this, will you? And he starts reading out one. 7 Hunter Street, Liverpool. To the High Sheriff of Dublin, Dublin. 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 us, Joe, says I. — ... private Arthur Chace for fowl murder of Jessie Tilsit in Pentonville prison and i was assistant when ... —Jesus, says I. — ... Billington executed the awful murderer Toad Smith ... The citizen made a grab at the letter. —Hold hard, says Joe, i have a special nack of putting the noose once in he can’t get out hoping to be favoured i remain, honoured sir, my terms is five ginnees. H. RUMBOLD, MASTER BARBER. —And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says the citizen. —And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe. Here, says he, take them to hell out of my sight, Alf. Hello, Bloom, says he, what will you have? 550 of 1305


So they started arguing about the point, Bloom 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. Gob, he’s a prudent member and no mistake. —Give us one of your prime stinkers, Terry, says Joe. And Alf was telling us there was one chap sent in a mourning card with a black border round it. —They’re all barbers, says he, from 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 bide, the vengeful knights of the razor. Their deadly coil they grasp: yea, and 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

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don’t know what all deterrent effect and so forth and so on. —There’s one thing it hasn’t a deterrent effect on, says Alf. —What’s that? says Joe. —The poor bugger’s tool that’s being hanged, says Alf. —That so? says Joe. —God’s truth, says Alf. I heard that from the head warder that was in Kilmainham when they hanged Joe Brady, the 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 death, says Joe, as someone said. —That can be explained by science, says Bloom. It’s only a natural phenomenon, don’t you see, because 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 552 of 1305


the best approved tradition of medical science, be calculated to inevitably produce in the human subject a violent ganglionic stimulus of the nerve centres of the genital apparatus, thereby 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 hanged, drawn and transported for the cause by drumhead courtmartial and a new Ireland and new this, that 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: 553 of 1305


—Give us the paw! Give the paw, doggy! Good old doggy! Give the paw here! Give us the paw! Arrah, bloody 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. Gob, he golloped it down like old boots and his tongue hanging out of him a yard long for more. Near ate the tin and all, hungry bloody mongrel. And the citizen and Bloom having an argument about the point, the brothers Sheares and Wolfe Tone beyond on Arbour Hill and Robert Emmet and die for your country, the Tommy Moore touch about Sara Curran and she’s far from the land. And Bloom, of course, with 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 bézique to come in for a bit of the wampum in her will and not 554 of 1305


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 farmer, he 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 herrings, if the three women didn’t near roast him, it’s a queer story, the old one, Bloom’s wife and Mrs O’Dowd that kept the hotel. Jesus, I 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 token, the lout I’m told was in Power’s after, the 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 dead, says the citizen taking up his pintglass and glaring at Bloom. —Ay, ay, says Joe. —You don’t grasp my point, says 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.

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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 mirth556 of 1305


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 delegation, present in full force, consisted 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 Petitépatant, the Grandjoker Vladinmire Pokethankertscheff, the Archjoker Leopold Rudolph von Schwanzenbad-Hodenthaler, Countess Marha Virága Kisászony Putrápesthi, Hiram Y. Bomboost, Count 557 of 1305


Athanatos Karamelopulos, Ali Baba Backsheesh Rahat Lokum Effendi, Senor Hidalgo Caballero Don Pecadillo y Palabras y Paternoster de la Malora de la Malaria, Hokopoko Harakiri, Hi Hung Chang, Olaf Kobberkeddelsen, Mynheer Trik van Trumps, Pan Poleaxe Paddyrisky, Goosepond Prhklstr Kratchinabritchisitch, Borus Hupinkoff, Herr Hurhausdirektorpresident Hans Chuechli-Steuerli, Nationalgymnasiummuseumsanatoriumandsuspensoriumso rdinaryprivatdocent- generalhistoryspecialprofessordoctor 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 cannonballs, scimitars, boomerangs, blunderbusses, stinkpots, meatchoppers, umbrellas, catapults, knuckledusters, sandbags, lumps of pig iron were resorted to and blows were freely exchanged. The baby policeman, Constable MacFadden, summoned by special courier from Booterstown, quickly restored order and with lightning promptitude proposed 558 of 1305


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 armchair, it 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. Quietly, unassumingly Rumbold stepped on to the scaffold in faultless morning dress and wearing his favourite flower, the Gladiolus Cruentus. He announced his presence by that gentle Rumboldian cough which so many have tried (unsuccessfully) to imitate—short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man. The arrival of the worldrenowned headsman was greeted by a roar of acclamation from the huge concourse, the viceregal ladies waving their handkerchiefs in their excitement while the 559 of 1305

polla kronia. It was exactly seventeen o’clock. 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 rainwater. vive. zivio. hiphip. hoch. The signal for prayer was then promptly given by megaphone and in an instant all heads were bared. which has been in the possession of his family since the revolution of Rienzi. chinchin. Dr Pippi. Hand by the block stood the grim figure of the executioner. and offered up to the throne of grace fervent prayers of supplication. being removed by his medical adviser in attendance. 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 560 of 1305 . amid 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. his visage being concealed in a tengallon pot with two circular perforated apertures through which his eyes glowered furiously. banzai.Ulysses even more excitable foreign delegates cheered vociferously in a medley of cries. Allah. his cassock above his hoary head. eljen. the commendatore’s patriarchal sombrero.

Ulysses the admirers of his fell but necessary office. fried steak and onions. with an abnegation rare in these our times. the various finely tempered disembowelling appliances (specially supplied by the worldfamous firm of cutlers. a terra cotta saucepan for the reception of the duodenum. done to a nicety. Quite an excellent repast consisting of rashers and eggs. rose 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 561 of 1305 . Messrs John Round and Sons. On a handsome mahogany table near him were neatly arranged the quartering knife. colon. The housesteward of the amalgamated cats’ and dogs’ home was in attendance to convey these vessels when replenished to that beneficent institution. Sheffield). blind intestine and appendix etc when successfully extracted and two commodious milkjugs destined to receive the most precious blood of the most precious victim. delicious 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 he.

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 and. oblivious of the dreadful present. including the venerable pastor. all the spectators. that 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. 562 of 1305 . my own. The hero folded her willowy form in a loving embrace murmuring fondly Sheila. 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. they both laughed heartily. joining in the general merriment.Ulysses and esteem. A fresh torrent of tears burst from their lachrymal ducts and the vast concourse of people. 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 memory. But anon they were overcome with grief and clasped their hands for the last time. touched to the inmost core. That monster audience simply rocked with delight.

and was accepted on the spot.Ulysses broke into heartrending sobs. Nay. stepped forward and. lieutenantcolonel Tomkin-Maxwell ffrenchmullan Tomlinson. Every lady in the audience was presented with a tasteful souvenir of the occasion in the shape of a skull and crossbones brooch. who presided on the sad occasion. officers of the peace and genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary. of one of the most timehonoured names in Albion’s history) placed on the finger of his blushing fiancée an expensive engagement ring with emeralds set in the form of a fourleaved shamrock the excitement knew no bounds. not the least affected being the aged prebendary himself. presenting his visiting card. a timely and generous act which evoked a fresh outburst of emotion: and when the gallant young Oxonian (the bearer. by the way. requesting her to name the day. noted for his chivalry towards the fair sex. A most romantic incident occurred when a handsome young Oxford graduate. even the ster provostmarshal. could 563 of 1305 . bankbook and genealogical tree. solicited the hand of the hapless young lady. Big strong men. he who had blown a considerable number of sepoys from the cannonmouth without flinching. were making frank use of their handkerchiefs and it is safe to say that there was not a dry eye in that record assemblage.

With his mailed gauntlet he brushed away a furtive tear and was overheard. 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 drink. by those privileged burghers who happened to be in his immediate entourage. straight. Antitreating is about the size of it. Blimey it makes me kind of bleeding cry. it does. he’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. song 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 564 of 1305 . that there bleeding tart. to murmur to himself in a faltering undertone: —God blimey if she aint a clinker. And one night I went in with a fellow into one of their musical evenings. the curse of Ireland. when I sees her cause I thinks of my old mashtub what’s waiting for me down Limehouse way. Gob.Ulysses not now restrain his natural emotion.

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. Then he starts hauling and mauling and talking to him in Irish and the old towser growling. —No. I’d train him by kindness. —Afraid he’ll bite you? says the citizen. flahoolagh entertainment. So he calls the old dog over.Ulysses with temperance beverages and selling medals and oranges and lemonade and a few old dry buns. Garry? says he. the old dog seeing the tin was empty starts mousing around by Joe and me. Ireland sober is Ireland free. if he was my dog. hitting below the belt. Growling and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the 565 of 1305 . —What’s on you. Such growling you never heard as they let off between them. like a duet in the opera. Give him a rousing fine kick now and again where it wouldn’t blind him. But he might take my leg for a lamppost. as I was saying. 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. And one or two sky pilots having an eye around that there was no goings on with the females. letting on to answer. don’t be talking. says I. jeering. So howandever. gob. so I would.

The exhibition. comprises. 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 566 of 1305 . which is the result of years of training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary system. 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. 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. C.Ulysses drouth is in it and the hydrophobia dropping out of his jaws. O. among other achievements. 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. the recitation of verse.

The metrical system of the canine original. The curse of my curses Seven days every day And seven dry Thursdays On you. is infinitely more complicated but we believe our readers will agree that the spirit has been well caught. And my guts red roaring After Lowry’s lights. which recalls the intricate alliterative and isosyllabic rules of the Welsh englyn. Has no sup of water To cool my courage. 567 of 1305 . 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. Barney Kiernan. 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.Ulysses Raftery and of Donal MacConsidine to say nothing of a more modern lyrist at present very much in the public eye.

says Bloom. Terry. says Joe. says Joe. And Joe asked him would he have another. what? 568 of 1305 . to show there’s no ill feeling. Entertainment for man and beast. As a matter of fact I just wanted to meet Martin Cunningham. that’s a good one if old Shylock is landed. —Holy Wars. gob. So the wife comes out top dog. about this insurance of poor Dignam’s. Are you sure you won’t have anything in the way of liquid refreshment? says he. don’t you see. Arsing around from one pub to another. —Same again. Gob. with old Giltrap’s dog and getting fed up by the ratepayers and corporators. —Thank you. he. didn’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. laughing. a chara. Dignam. he’s not as green as he’s cabbagelooking. Martin asked me to go to the house.Ulysses So he told Terry to bring some water for the dog and. I mean. And says Joe: —Could you make a hole in another pint? —Could a swim duck? says I. says he. You see. you could hear him lapping it up a mile off. —I will. leaving it to your own honour. no.

Selling bazaar tickets or what do you call it royal Hungarian privileged lottery. —Whose admirers? says Joe. And shaking Bloom’s hand 569 of 1305 . O. a finer than poor little Willy that’s dead to tell her. says Bloom. 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. for the wife’s admirers. that’s a point. —The wife’s advisers.Ulysses —Well. commend me to an israelite! Royal and privileged Hungarian robbery. Choking with bloody foolery. I mean. 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 truer. 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. says Bloom. True as you’re there.

I appreciate to the full the motives which actuate your conduct and I shall discharge the office you entrust to me consoled by the reflection that. —Let me. And off with him and out trying to walk straight. on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of you this favour. is founded. —Then suffer me to take your hand. however slight it may appear if judged by the standard of mere time. so far presume upon our acquaintance which. will dictate to you better than my inadequate words the expressions which are most suitable to convey an emotion whose poignancy. rejoined the other. would deprive me even of speech. should I have overstepped the limits of reserve let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness. Boosed at five o’clock. I feel sure.Ulysses doing the tragic to tell her that. said he. The goodness of your heart. But. Night he was near being lagged only Paddy Leonard knew the bobby. You’re a rogue and I’m another. Shake hands. said he. —No. 14A. this proof of your confidence sweetens in some measure the bitterness of the cup. brother. were I to give vent to my feelings. Blind to the 570 of 1305 . as I hope and believe. though the errand be one of sorrow.

doing the little lady. and the old testament. the bloody fool and he spilling the porter all over the bed and the two shawls screeching laughing at one another. no less. says he. and talking against the Catholic religion. 571 of 1305 . And calling himself a Frenchy for the shawls. —Slan leat. Here. Good health. Jesus. says I. Joseph Manuo. Then see him of a Sunday with his little concubine of a wife. Told him if he didn’t patch up the pot. and he serving mass in Adam and Eve’s when he was young with his eyes shut. who wrote the new testament. and hugging and smugging. doing the honours. Jack made him toe the line. Jack Mooney’s sister. and her violets. —Fortune.Ulysses world up in a shebeen in Bride street after closing time. Joe. How is your testament? Have you got an old testament? Only Paddy was passing there. So Terry brought the three pints. drinking porter out of teacups. nice as pie. And the two shawls killed with the laughing. fornicating with two shawls and a bully on guard. Gob. he’d kick the shite out of him. says Joe. I tell you what. picking his pockets. citizen. —Here. citizen. And the old prostitute of a mother procuring rooms to street couples. and she wagging her tail up the aisle of the chapel with her patent boots on her.

says Alf. —Who is the long fellow running for the mayoralty.. —Nannan? says Joe. P. that exploded volcano. 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. says the citizen. says Joe. The mimber? —I won’t mention any names. Mister Knowall. —I thought so. the darling of all countries and the idol of his own. —Friend of yours. 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 572 of 1305 . Because he was up one time in a knacker’s yard. I saw him up at that meeting now with William Field. he had his mouth half way down the tumbler already. says Alf.Ulysses Gob. Teach your grandmother how to milk ducks. Want a small fortune to keep him in drinks. Alf? says Joe. —Hairy Iopas. 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. M. the cattle traders.

—That’s too bad. says Joe. I wanted particularly. says Joe. says Joe. tonight. says Bloom. Klook Klook Klook. Klook Klook Klook. She lays eggs for us. —Well. The league told him to ask a question tomorrow about the commissioner of police 573 of 1305 . says Bloom. Gob. Perhaps only Mr Field is going. You’re sure? —Nannan’s going too. Gara. No. Couldn’t loosen her farting strings but old cod’s eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do it. Black Liz is our hen. as it happens. Ga Ga Gara. Humane methods. Ga ga ga ga Gara. When she lays her egg she is so glad. he’s going off by the mailboat. Klook Klook Klook.Ulysses fat all over her. Then comes good uncle Leo. Field and Nannetti are going over tonight to London to ask about it on the floor of the house of commons. I couldn’t phone. —Anyhow. 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. What’s your programme today? Ay. He puts his hand under black Liz and takes her fresh egg. he’d have a soft hand under a hen. —Are you sure. the councillor is going? I wanted to see him.

): 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.): Arising out of the question of my honourable friend. Ind. Con. Mr Orelli O’Reilly (Montenotte. I feel I cannot usefully add anything to that. Mr Staylewit (Buncombe. 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 Cowe Conacre (Multifarnham. The answer to the honourable member’s question is in the affirmative. What do you think of that.): Honourable members are already in possession of the evidence produced before a committee of the whole house. may 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. Nat.) 574 of 1305 . the member for Shillelagh. citizen? The Sluagh na h-Eireann.Ulysses forbidding Irish games in the park.): Don’t hesitate to shoot. (Ironical opposition cheers. Nat.

citizen. 575 of 1305 . that made the Gaelic sports revival.Ulysses The speaker: Order! Order! (The house rises. Cheers. says the citizen. says Bloom. Bloom. —Put it there. You were and a bloody sight better. —Is that really a fact? says Alf. Do you see that straw? That’s a straw. The man that got away James Stephens.) —There’s the man. letting on to be modest. That’s well known. What was your best throw. says Joe. 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. There he is sitting there. citizen? —Na bacleis. And of course Bloom had to have his say too about if a fellow had a rower’s heart violent exercise was bad. says Joe. —Yes. The champion of all Ireland at putting the sixteen pound shot. I declare to my antimacassar if you took up a straw from the bloody floor and if you said to Bloom: Look at. There was a time I was as good as the next fellow anyhow.

The venerable president of the noble order was in the chair and the attendance was of large dimensions. having espoused the negative the vocalist chairman 576 of 1305 . on the revival of ancient Gaelic sports and the importance of physical culture. Bloom. a 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. Mr Joseph M’Carthy Hynes. as understood in ancient Greece and ancient Rome and ancient Ireland. After an instructive discourse by the chairman. for the development of the race. practised morning and evening by Finn MacCool. The wellknown and highly respected worker in the cause of our old tongue. a magnificent oration eloquently and forcibly expressed. made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation of the ancient Gaelic sports and pastimes. as calculated to revive the best traditions of manly strength and prowess handed down to us from ancient ages.Ulysses Declare to my aunt he’d talk about it for an hour so he would and talk steady. who met with a mixed reception of applause and hisses. under the auspices of Sluagh na h-Eireann. L. A most interesting discussion took place in the ancient hall of Brian O’ciarnain’s in Sraid na Bretaine Bheag.

Sp. S. P. S. Gerald Molloy. L. D. the very rev. 577 of 1305 .Ulysses brought the discussion to a close. O.. Waters. C.. B. the rev. L. O.. P. J.. C. L.. P. J. Ivers. the rev. C. T. S. William Delany. the very rev.. the rt rev. was 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. J. F. J. Gorman. which by its superquality greatly enhanced his already international reputation. Amongst the clergy present were the very rev.. Nicholas. S. F. the rev. O. C. D. O. Kavanagh. the rev. D. P. in response to repeated requests and hearty plaudits from all parts of a bumper house. His superb highclass vocalism. P.. D. C. 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. Hickey.. by 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. John M. Cleary. the rev.. Fr. The proceedings then terminated.

F. V. S. etc. M. is the agility and training the eye. P. The traitor’s son. J. P. M. Flanagan.. Maher. Timothy canon Gorman.. I.Ulysses the rev. says Joe. the rev. G. O. The laity included P. We know what put English gold in his pocket. the rev. says Alf. D. F. the rev. Fay. C. D. S. —Ay. for example... A.. Quirke. J. R. C. P. the rev. were you at that Keogh-Bennett match? —No. the rev. He let out that Myler was on the beer to run up the odds and he swatting all the time. M. C. Flavin. S. —I heard So and So made a cool hundred quid over it. B. the rt rev.. says Alf. O. Brangan. W. Slattery. —-True for you. —Talking about violent exercise. P.. O.. etc. John Lavery. T. says Joe. Peter Fagan. P. the very rev. D. William Doherty. Blazes. the very rev. M.. C. O. —Who? Blazes? says Joe. And says Bloom: —What I meant about tennis.. says Alf. T. T.. the very rev. the very rev. the rev. James Murphy. the rev. Scally.. Mgr M’Manus. V. Hackett. T. the rev. J. the rev. C.. Purcell. —We know him.. C. C. A. C. says the citizen. J.. 578 of 1305 . Hurley.

leading 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. It was a historic and a hefty battle when Myler and Percy were scheduled to don the gloves for the purse of fifty sovereigns. Heenan and Sayers was only a bloody fool to it. The welterweight sergeantmajor had tapped some lively claret in the previous mixup during which Keogh had been receivergeneral of rights and lefts. the artilleryman putting in some neat work on the pet’s nose. 579 of 1305 . God. says Alf. See the little kipper not up to his navel and the big fellow swiping. Queensberry rules and all. asking Alf: —Now.Ulysses And Bloom cuts in again about lawn tennis and the circulation of the blood. The final bout of fireworks was a gruelling for both champions. made him puke what he never ate. The soldier got to business. and Myler came on looking groggy. the body punch being a fine one. The redcoat ducked but the Dubliner lifted him with a left hook. Handicapped as he was by lack of poundage. he gave him one last puck in the wind. Bergan? —Myler dusted the floor with him. don’t you think. Handed him the father and mother of a beating. Dublin’s pet lamb made up for it by superlative skill in ringcraft.

I hear he’s running a concert tour now up in the north. whose right eye was nearly closed. The Englishman. The two fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high. flooring him flat. the bout ending with the bulkier man on the ropes. Myler quickly became busy and got his man under. confident of knocking out the fistic Eblanite in jigtime. —He is.Ulysses The men came to handigrips. says Alf. 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. The referee twice cautioned Pucking Percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch. says Joe. 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 stomach. It was a fight to a finish and the best man for it. It was a knockout clean and clever. —He knows which side his bread is buttered. took his corner where he was liberally drenched with water and when the bell went came on gamey and brimful of pluck. Isn’t he? 580 of 1305 . Myler punishing him.

is the bright particular star. the ravenhaired daughter of Tweedy. take my tip. isn’t she? says Joe. There grew she to peerless beauty where loquat and almond scent the air. yes. Pride of Calpe’s rocky mount. ‘Twixt me and you Caddareesh. And lo. yes. Excellent. —My wife? says Bloom. Yes. He’s an excellent man to organise. That’s quite true. a comely hero of white face yet withal somewhat ruddy. Ah. You what? The water rate. Just a holiday. there entered one of the clan of the O’Molloy’s. The chaste spouse of Leopold is she: Marion of the bountiful bosoms. I think it will be a success too. a kind of summer tour. his majesty’s counsel learned in the law. Concert tour. 581 of 1305 . She’s singing. Mr Boylan. The gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew and bowed. Hoho begob says I to myself says I. Old Whatwhat. Blazes doing the tootle on the flute. I called about the poor and water rate. You whatwhat? That’s the bucko that’ll organise her. Dirty Dan the dodger’s son off Island bridge that sold the same horses twice over to the government to fight the Boers. That explains the milk in the cocoanut and absence of hair on the animal’s chest. you see. —Mrs B.Ulysses —Who? says Bloom. Mr Boylan.

sir? Dunne. J. getting him off the grand jury list and the other give him a leg over the stile. Ned? —Half one. —Hope so. Ay. Joe. What’s your name. says the citizen. Ned. —Were you round at the court? says Joe. —Yes. J. adrinking fizz and he half smothered in writs and garnishee orders. says he. —Hello. So J. —Hello. Gob. He’ll square that. hobnobbing with flash toffs with a swank glass in their eye. 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. —Save you kindly. With his name in Stubbs’s. Now what were those two at? J. says he. says Ned. Playing cards. Alf. ordered the drinks. says J. What’ll it be. I’m thinking.Ulysses and with him the prince and heir of the noble line of Lambert. J. J. —God save you. he’ll come home by weeping cross one of those days. Jack. Ned. says J. —Hello. says Ned. and done says I. —Hello. 582 of 1305 .

—Ay. —Ten thousand pounds. says Ned. I’d give anything to hear him before a judge and jury. —Compos your eye! says Alf. The truth. —Whatever statement you make. Looking for a private detective. says Alf. but the truth of a libel is no defence to an indictment for publishing it in the eyes of the law. Alf? says Joe. U. God. laughing. —Me? says Alf. 583 of 1305 . J. —Yes. Don’t cast your nasturtiums on my character. p: up.. Do you know that some mornings he has to get his hat on with a shoehorn. J. U. And he wanted right go wrong to address the court only Corny Kelleher got round him telling him to get the handwriting examined first. says J. says J. J. Alf. It implies that he is not compos mentis.Ulysses —Did you see that bloody lunatic Breen round there? says Alf. will be taken down in evidence against you. so help you Jimmy Johnson. —Of course an action would lie. —Was it you did it. —Ha ha. laughing. says J. —Yes. Do you know that he’s balmy? Look at his head. the whole truth and nothing but the truth. p: up. says Joe. says Joe.

—Pity about her. A fellow that’s neither fish nor flesh. papal Zouave to the Holy Father. —How half and half? says Bloom. Begob I saw there was trouble coming. —Nor good red herring. says the citizen. And Bloom explaining he meant on account of it being cruel for the wife having to go round after the old stuttering fool. A pishogue. tell us? A nobody. two pair back and passages.. —That what’s I mean. Cruelty to animals so it is to let that bloody povertystricken Breen out on grass with his beard out tripping him. Do you mean he . says Joe.. at seven shillings a week. bringing down the rain. says the citizen. if you know what that is. the eyetallyano. —Half and half I mean. on account of the poor woman. says the citizen. Picture of him on the wall with his Smashall Sweeney’s moustaches. Or any other woman marries a half and half.Ulysses —Still. And who was he. and he 584 of 1305 . And she with her nose cockahoop after she married him because a cousin of his old fellow’s was pewopener to the pope. says Bloom. has left the quay and gone to Moss street. the signior Brini from Summerhill. I mean his wife.

says J.. says J. J. says Ned. J. Ned. 585 of 1305 . In my opinion an action might lie. we won’t be let even do that much itself. talking to him like a father. 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 past. please. good health. Gob. What? Do you see any green in the white of my eye? Course it was a bloody barney. —Well. One of the bottlenosed fraternity it was went by the name of James Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro. —And moreover. says J. put an ad in the papers saying he’d give a passage to Canada for twenty bob. —-There he is again. —Good health. says Joe. —Remanded. It was held to be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v. Six and eightpence. Jack. —How did that Canada swindle case go off? says Joe. —Where? says Alf. Hole. Who wants your opinion? Let us drink our pints in peace.Ulysses covered with all kinds of breastplates bidding defiance to the world. a postcard is publication. trying to sell him a secondhand coffin. J.

—Recorder. says Alf. And he starts taking off the old recorder letting on to cry: —A most scandalous thing! This poor hardworking man! How many children? Ten. J. sir. sir. sir. J. —Who tried the case? says Joe. says Alf. —Poor old sir Frederick. And my wife has the typhoid. says Ned. How dare you. says Ned. he’ll dissolve in tears on the bench. No. Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn’t clap him in the dock the other day for suing poor little Gumley that’s minding stones. faith. swearing by the holy Moses he was stuck for two quid. your worship. skivvies and badhachs from the county Meath. for the corporation there near Butt bridge. was telling us there was an ancient Hebrew Zaretsky or something weeping in the witnessbox with his hat on him.Ulysses What? Swindled them all. did you say? —Yes. Tell him a tale of woe about arrears of rent and a sick wife and a squad of kids and. —And the wife with typhoid fever! Scandalous! Leave the court immediately. and his own kidney too. —Heart as big as a lion. come up before me and ask 586 of 1305 . you can cod him up to the two eyes. ay. I’ll make no order for payment. —Ay.

vintner. There master Courtenay. 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. and another.Ulysses me to make an order! A poor hardworking industrious man! I dismiss the case. And to the solemn court of Green street there came sir Frederick the Falconer. versus Livingstone. sitting without a jury in the probate court. for every tribe one man. sitting in his own chamber. weighed 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 Halliday. an infant. And there sat with him the high sinhedrim of the twelve tribes of Iar. gave his rede and master Justice Andrews. of unsound mind. 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. deceased. the virgin moon being then in her first quarter. it came to pass that those learned judges repaired them to the halls of law. of 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 587 of 1305 . the daughter of the skies.

telling him he needn’t trouble about that little matter till the first but if he would just say a word to Mr Crawford. those twelve of Iar. 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 rose in their seats.Ulysses 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 Ossian. And so Joe swore high and holy by this and by that he’d do the devil and all. coming over here to Ireland filling the country with bugs. So Bloom lets on he heard nothing and he starts talking with Joe. says the citizen. 588 of 1305 . there being in all twelve good men and true. 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. and they swore by the name of Him Who is from everlasting that they would do His rightwiseness. —Those are nice things. 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.

—Very kind of you. —O. says Bloom. and the poor of Ireland. And Bloom letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing. says Alf. says Bloom. that was giggling over the Police Gazette with Terry on the counter. —Swindling the peasants. —Decree nisi. you see. says the citizen. for an advertisement you must have repetition. J.Ulysses —Because. —A dishonoured wife. Our own fault. says the citizen. says J. I’m sure that will be all right. says Joe. —Rely on me. —Give us a squint at her. says the citizen. that’s what’s the cause of all our misfortunes. you see. The adulteress and her paramour brought the Saxon robbers here. We let them come in. —Consider that done. says I. and the citizen scowling after him and the old dog at his feet looking up to know who to bite and when. —And here she is. That’s the whole secret. in all her warpaint. We want no more strangers in our house. —The strangers. says Joe. a spider’s web in the corner behind the barrel. says Bloom. We brought them in. It’s just that Keyes. 589 of 1305 . Hynes.

Norman W. Jenny. Tupper. and her fancyman feeling for her tickles and Norman W. wealthy Chicago contractor. Secrets for enlarging your private parts. Belle in her bloomers misconducting herself. —Well. second of the realm. had taken solemn counsel whereby they might. Tupper bouncing in with his peashooter just in time to be late after she doing the trick of the loop with officer Taylor. after due prayers to the gods who dwell in ether supernal. says Joe. Get a queer old tailend of corned beef off of that one. had met them in the tholsel. what’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’Nolan. if so be it 590 of 1305 . how short your shirt is! —There’s hair. what? So anyhow in came John Wyse Nolan and Lenehan with him with a face on him as long as a late breakfast. —O jakers. finds pretty but faithless wife in lap of officer Taylor. clad in shining armour. how that the grave elders of the most obedient city. says I. low bending made obeisance to the puissant and high and mighty chief of all Erin and did him to wit of that which had befallen. Misconduct of society belle. says the citizen.Ulysses And what was it only one of the smutty yankee pictures Terry borrows off of Corny Kelleher. and there. Joe.

To hell with the bloody brutal Sassenachs and their patois. putting your blind eye to the telescope and drawing up a bill of attainder to impeach a nation..Ulysses might be. —It’s on the march. And says Lenehan that knows a bit of the lingo: 591 of 1305 . you mean. 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. puts in a word. J. —Their syphilisation. —They’re not European. doing the toff about one story was good till you heard another and blinking facts and the Nelson policy. says J. bring once more into honour among mortal men the winged speech of the seadivided Gael. And says John Wyse: —Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. I was in Europe with Kevin Egan of Paris. says the citizen. —The European family. says the citizen.. and Bloom trying to back him up moderation and botheration and their colonies and their civilisation. Tonguetied sons of bastards’ ghosts. So J. You wouldn’t see a trace of them or their language anywhere in Europe except in a cabinet d’aisance. . J. says the citizen.

Takes the biscuit. Lord Howard de Walden’s. And the rest nowhere. at twenty to one. rulers of the waves. Throwaway. says he. Such is life in an outhouse. Mr Lenehan? says Terry. says he. on Zinfandel that Mr Flynn gave me. —Throwaway. and talking about bunions. You look like a fellow that had lost a bob and found a tanner. uttering his tribal slogan Lamh Dearg Abu. —And Bass’s mare? says Terry. —Twenty to one. —I had half a crown myself. Boylan plunged two quid on my tip Sceptre for himself and a lady friend. who sit on thrones of alabaster silent as the deathless gods. a race of mighty valorous heroes. thy name is Sceptre. the old cur 592 of 1305 . —Gold cup. —Who won. says Lenehan. says I to Lenehan. A rank outsider. says Terry. So he went over to the biscuit tin Bob Doran left to see if there was anything he could lift on the nod. —What’s up with you. he drank to the undoing of his foes. —Still running. Frailty. says he.Ulysses —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 and. says he. We’re all in a cart.

my child. J. our 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 Ross. And J. can see the mote in others’ eyes but they can’t see the beam in their own. —Not there. says he. says Joe. the 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 lace. —Keep your pecker up. Where are our missing twenty millions of Irish should be here today instead of four. and the citizen arguing about law and history with Bloom sticking in an odd word. Where are the Greek merchants that came through the pillars of Hercules. the Gibraltar now grabbed by the foe of mankind. with gold and Tyrian 593 of 1305 . nothing like it in the whole wide world.Ulysses after him backing his luck with his mangy snout up. says Bloom. if you know what that means. She’d have won the money only for the other dog. our lost tribes? And our potteries and textiles. says the citizen. —Some people. Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard. There’s no-one as blind as the fellow that won’t see. —Raimeis.

second to none. I was reading a report of lord Castletown’s . silver from Tipperary. says Lenehan. peltries. Wine. Connemara marble.Ulysses purple to sell in Wexford at the fair of Carmen? Read Tacitus and Ptolemy. says John Wyse. grand high chief ranger of the Irish National Foresters. —Save them. or Heligoland with its one tree if something is not done to reafforest the land. even Giraldus Cambrensis. says the citizen. firs. The fashionable international world attended EN MASSE this afternoon at the wedding of the chevalier Jean Wyse de Neaulan. the Irish hobbies. our farfamed horses even today.. the giant ash of Galway and the chieftain elm of Kildare with a fortyfoot bole and an acre of foliage. Larches. with king Philip of Spain offering to pay customs duties for the right to fish in our waters.. with Miss Fir Conifer of Pine Valley. 594 of 1305 . O. —Europe has its eyes on you. 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 soon. Save the trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of Eire. all the trees of the conifer family are going fast.

the Misses Lilian and Viola Lilac. sashed with a yoke of broad emerald and finished with a triple flounce of darkerhued fringe. Mrs Liana Forrest. Miss Gladys Beech. Miss Rachel Cedarfrond. sisters of the bride. The bride who was given away by her father. wore very becoming costumes in the same tone. Miss May Hawthorne. Miss Daphne Bays. Mrs Poll Ash. Miss Larch Conifer and Miss Spruce Conifer. Miss Myra Myrtle. the scheme being relieved by bretelles and hip insertions of acorn bronze. Mrs Barbara Lovebirch. Miss Bee Honeysuckle. Mrs Clyde Twelvetrees. Mrs Maud Mahogany. Miss Virginia Creeper. Miss Priscilla Elderflower. moulded on an underslip of gloaming grey. The maids of honour. Miss Timidity Aspenall. Miss O Mimosa San. a dainty motif of plume rose being worked into the pleats in a pinstripe and repeated capriciously in the jadegreen toques in the form 595 of 1305 . Miss Grace Poplar.Ulysses Lady Sylvester Elmshade. Miss Dorothy Canebrake. Mrs Kitty Dewey-Mosse. the M’Conifer of the Glands. Mrs Helen Vinegadding. Mrs Holly Hazeleyes. Mrs Arabella Blackwood and Mrs Norma Holyoake of Oakholme Regis graced the ceremony by their presence. Mrs Gloriana Palme. Miss Olive Garth. Miss Blanche Maple. looked exquisitely charming in a creation carried out in green mercerised silk. Mrs Rowan Greene.

Queenstown. our harbours that are empty will be full again. played a new and striking arrangement of Woodman. mistletoe sprigs and quicken shoots. We had our trade with Spain and the French and with the Flemings before those mongrels were pupped. Killybegs. spare that tree at the conclusion of the service. Kinsale. Galway. says the citizen. hollyberries. says Joe. clapping his thigh. Mr and Mrs Wyse Conifer Neaulan will spend a quiet honeymoon in the Black Forest. Ventry in the kingdom of Kerry. says the citizen. beechmast. Senhor Enrique Flor presided at the organ with his wellknown ability and. ivytod. bayleaves. —And our eyes are on Europe. Blacksod Bay. —And will again. the 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 596 of 1305 . the winebark on the winedark waterway. On leaving the church of Saint Fiacre in Horto after the papal blessing the happy pair were subjected to a playful crossfire of hazelnuts. —And with the help of the holy mother of God we will again. in addition to the prescribed numbers of the nuptial mass. Spanish ale in Galway. catkins of willow.Ulysses of heron feathers of paletinted coral.

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. Right. to celebrate the occasion. Terry. trying to crack their bloody 597 of 1305 . the oldest flag afloat. three crowns on a blue field. says he. Small whisky and bottle of Allsop. none of your Henry Tudor’s harps. the flag of the province of Desmond and Thomond. Picture of a butting match. Terry! Are you asleep? —Yes. sir. Moya. And will again. says John Wyse. Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead of attending to the general public. says John Wyse. —Half one. the three sons of Milesius. Cows in Connacht have long horns. no. and a hands up. hear to that. —Hear. says Lenehan. sir. And he took the last swig out of the pint. All wind and piss like a tanyard cat.Ulysses the Fifth himself. says Terry. What will you have? —An imperial yeomanry. when the first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to the fore.

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 out.Ulysses skulls. Hell upon earth it is. Ga. one chap going for the other with his head down like a bull at a gate. says the citizen. 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. they ought to drown him in the sea after and electrocute and crucify him to make sure of their job. says the citizen. Gob. And says John Wyse: 598 of 1305 . And another one: Black Beast Burned in Omaha. A fellow writes that calls himself Disgusted One. and they tie him down on the buttend of a gun. Read the revelations that’s going on in the papers about flogging on the training ships at Portsmouth. that keeps our foes at bay? —I’ll tell you what about it. —A rump and dozen. says Ned. —But what about the fighting navy. howling for his ma. was what that old ruffian sir John Beresford called it but the modern God’s Englishman calls it caning on the breech.

sitteth on his beamend till further orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be paid. with the only hereditary chamber on the face of God’s earth and their land in the hands of a dozen gamehogs and cottonball barons. They believe in rod. creator of hell upon earth. they believe it. and in Jacky Tar. who was conceived of unholy boast.Ulysses —’Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance. The unfortunate yahoos believe it. that bosses the earth. says the citizen. steered into haven. says the citizen. 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. —On which the sun never rises. yelled like bloody hell. says Joe. suffered under rump and dozen. flayed and curried. —And the tragedy of it is. The fellows that never will be slaves. That’s the great empire they boast about of drudges and whipped serfs. was scarified. —That’s your glorious British navy. 599 of 1305 . the scourger almighty. born of the fighting navy. the son of a gun. the third day he arose again from the bed.

says Bloom. But those that came to the land of the free remember the land of bondage. We have our greater Ireland beyond the sea. 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. They were driven out of house and home in the black 47. the champions of Kathleen ni Houlihan. Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres. 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. And they will come again and with a vengeance. 600 of 1305 . isn’t discipline the same everywhere. no cravens. says Bloom. the sons of Granuaile. But my point was ..Ulysses —But. they drove out the peasants in hordes. 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. —Perfectly true. Ay. —We’ll put force against force.. says the citizen. Twenty thousand of them died in the coffinships.

haven’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? Jesus. says Joe. 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. We gave our best blood to France and Spain. and Ulysses Browne of Camus that was fieldmarshal to Maria Teresa. But what did we ever get for it? —The French! says the citizen. We fought for the royal Stuarts that reneged us against the Williamites and they betrayed us. Set of dancing masters! Do you know what it is? They were never worth a roasted fart to Ireland. eh? And Sarsfield and O’Donnell. —Ay. blind drunk in 601 of 1305 . —And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians. nobbling his beer. says John Wyse. Since the poor old woman told us that the French were on the sea and landed at Killala. says Ned.Ulysses —We are a long time waiting for that day. says Lenehan. Fontenoy. I had to laugh at the way he came out with that about the old one with the winkers on her. —Conspuez les Français. duke of Tetuan in Spain. Remember Limerick and the broken treatystone. the wild geese. citizen.

citizen? says Joe. —Yes. I will. of the holy boys. And says J. says Joe. says J. with 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. —They ought to have stuck up all the women he rode himself. old Vic. There’s a bloody sight more pox than pax about that boyo. J. 602 of 1305 . Edward Guelph-Wettin! —And what do you think. We have Edward the peacemaker now. no less. says little Alf. J. —Tell that to a fool.Ulysses her royal palace every night of God. The earl of Dublin. the 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. sir.: —Considerations of space influenced their lordships’ decision. says he. —Will you try another. says the citizen. —Well. —You? says Joe.

—Ireland. May your shadow never grow less. A nation is the same people living in the same place.Ulysses —Beholden to you. says Ned. —What is it? says John Wyse. —Yes. I was born here. says Joe. —Repeat that dose. all the history of the world is full of it. says Bloom. —But do you know what a nation means? says John Wyse. says he. —That covers my case. —Persecution. Ireland. —What is your nation if I may ask? says the citizen. 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. laughing. says I. —A nation? says Bloom. says Joe. Perpetuating national hatred among nations. if that’s so I’m a nation for I’m living in the same place for the past five years. says Bloom. 603 of 1305 . then. —By God. So of course everyone had the laugh at Bloom and says he. trying to muck out of it: —Or also living in different places.

No need to dwell on the legendary beauty of the cornerpieces. The scenes depicted on the emunctory field. taking out his handkerchief to swab himself dry. citizen. a bogoak sceptre. be it said in passing). showing our ancient duns and raths and cromlechs and grianauns and seats of learning and maledictive stones. he spat a Red bank oyster out of him right in the corner. Take that in your right hand and repeat after me the following words. Joe. The muchtreasured and intricately embroidered ancient Irish facecloth attributed to Solomon of Droma and Manus Tomaltach og MacDonogh. —Here you are. says Joe. 604 of 1305 . a North American puma (a far nobler king of beasts than the British article. authors of the Book of Ballymote. wherein one can distinctly discern each of the four evangelists in turn presenting to each of the four masters his evangelical symbol. —After you with the push. the acme of art.Ulysses The citizen said nothing only cleared the spit out of his gullet and. gob. says he. was then carefully produced and called forth prolonged admiration. a Kerry calf and a golden eagle from Carrantuohill. 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.

Kilballymacshonakill. the lovely lakes of Killarney. says I. Isolde’s tower. the Salmon Leap. as the devil said to the dead policeman. Croagh Patrick. Son and Company (Limited). 605 of 1305 . S. Ireland’s Eye. the Green Hills of Tallaght. Cape Clear. Maynooth college refectory. Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins. Lough Neagh’s banks. Also now. —Show us over the drink. the Henry Street Warehouse. the Scotch house.Ulysses Glendalough. Tullamore jail. the glen of Aherlow. Castleconnel rapids. says Bloom. Curley’s hole. the vale of Ovoca. Sir Patrick Dun’s hospital. says Joe. the rock of Cashel. Jury’s Hotel. Lynch’s castle. Which is which? —That’s mine. the bog of Allen. This very instant. the ruins of Clonmacnois. —And I belong to a race too. the three birthplaces of the first duke of Wellington. Cong Abbey. Patrick’s Purgatory. that is hated and persecuted. the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness. the Mapas obelisk. This very moment. Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown. Fingal’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. the cross at Monasterboice.

insult and hatred. Taking what belongs to us by right. I must go now. if he only had a nurse’s apron on him. —Love. —Right. says John Wyse. says Bloom. all that. Force. says he to John Wyse. Stand up to it then with force like men. Insulted. sold by auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle. And then he collapses all of a sudden. says he. history. Persecuted. says he. —I’m talking about injustice.Ulysses Gob. Plundered. he’d adorn a sweepingbrush. That’s an almanac picture for you. as limp as a wet rag. hatred. At this very moment. I mean the opposite of hatred. —Robbed. That’s not life for men and women. And everybody knows that it’s the very opposite of that that is really life. —Are you talking about the new Jerusalem? says the citizen. so he would. twisting around all the opposite. says Bloom. Just round to the 606 of 1305 . Gob. Old lardyface standing up to the business end of a gun. —What? says Alf. he near burnt his fingers with the butt of his old cigar. putting up his fist. —But it’s no use. Mark for a softnosed bullet. says he.

His Majesty the King loves Her Majesty the Queen. says the citizen. —A new apostle to the gentiles. Just a moment. Beggar my neighbour is his motto. Tupper loves officer Taylor. —Well. Constable 14A loves Mary Kelly. Love. Isn’t that what we’re told.Ulysses court a moment to see if Martin is there. B. the elephant. moya! He’s a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet. —That chap? says the citizen. And this person loves that other person because everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody. Love your neighbour. Love loves to love love. the elephant. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow. Mrs Norman W. If he comes just say I’ll be back in a second. loves Alice. Nurse loves the new chemist. loves a fair gentleman. Gerty MacDowell loves the boy that has the bicycle. M. 607 of 1305 . Universal love. You love a certain person. Old Mr Verschoyle with the ear trumpet loves old Mrs Verschoyle with the turnedin eye. Who’s hindering you? And off he pops like greased lightning. Jumbo. The man in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. says John Wyse.

freely translated by the British chaplain. citizen. there. says I. your very good health and song. —The blessing of God and Mary and Patrick on you. in the course of a happy speech. Joe. —We know those canters. Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs. —Hurrah. preaching and picking your pocket. to tender to His Majesty the heartfelt thanks of British traders for the facilities afforded them in his dominions. 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. 608 of 1305 . More power. says Joe. The delegation partook of luncheon at the conclusion of which the dusky potentate. And he ups with his pint to wet his whistle. says he. 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.Ulysses —Well. says the citizen.

in the course of which he swallowed several knives and forks. the volume of the word of God and the secret of England’s greatness. amid hilarious applause from the girl hands. —Widow woman. the great squaw Victoria. says Lenehan. subsequently executing a charming old Abeakutic wardance. after which he visited the chief factory of Cottonopolis and signed his mark in the visitors’ book. surnamed Forty Warts. graciously presented to him by the white chief woman. with a personal dedication from the august hand of the Royal Donor.Ulysses the reverend Ananias Praisegod Barebones. 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. Wonder did he put that bible to the same use as I would. —Same only more so. 609 of 1305 . And thereafter in that fruitful land the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly. stating that he treasured as one of his dearest possessions an illuminated bible. says Ned. I wouldn’t doubt her. —Is that by Griffith? says John Wyse. tendered his best thanks to Massa Walkup and emphasised the cordial relations existing between Abeakuta and the British empire.

He had a few bob on Throwaway and he’s gone to gather in the shekels. I met Bantam Lyons going to back that horse only I put him off it and he told me Bloom gave him the tip. The courthouse is a blind. It’s not signed Shanganagh. says J. He’s an Irishman. Raping the women and girls and flogging the natives on the belly to squeeze all the red rubber they can out of them.. Bet you what you 610 of 1305 . says the citizen. —Well. says J. —Bloom. says the citizen. says Lenehan. cracking his fingers. It’s only initialled: P. —And a very good initial too. J. if they’re any worse than those Belgians in the Congo Free State they must be bad. —Who? says I. says Joe. Did you read that report by a man what’s this his name is? —Casement. says the citizen. says he. that never backed a horse in anger in his life? —That’s where he’s gone. —Yes. says Lenehan.Ulysses —No. J. that’s the man. —I know where he’s gone. —Is it that whiteeyed kaffir? says the citizen. Trade follows the flag. —That’s how it’s worked.

He’s the only man in Dublin has it. says Terry. Goodbye Ireland I’m going to Gort.Ulysses like he has a hundred shillings to five on. full 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 dingdong. —Mind. packed juries and swindling the taxes off 611 of 1305 . —He’s a bloody dark horse himself. John Wyse saying it was Bloom gave the ideas for Sinn Fein to Griffith to put in his paper all kinds of jerrymandering. 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 (gob. says Joe. says I. Show us the entrance out. Joe. A dark horse. —There you are. must 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 (Jesus.

Ulysses of the government and appointing consuls all over the world to walk about selling Irish industries. Gob. says John Wyse. it’s a fact. that poisoned himself with the prussic acid after he swamping the country with his baubles and his penny diamonds. Distance no object. Our travellers reached the rustic hostelry and alighted from their palfreys. 612 of 1305 . Mr Bloom with his argol bargol. old Methusalem Bloom. Any amount of money advanced on note of hand. the robbing bagman. God save Ireland from the likes of that bloody mouseabout. And his old fellow before him perpetrating frauds. —Well. Give us a bloody chance. Martin Cunningham. No security. Loans by post on easy terms. that puts the bloody kybosh on it if old sloppy eyes is mucking up the show. pensioner out of the collector general’s. he’s like Lanty MacHale’s goat that’d go a piece of the road with every one. And there’s the man now that’ll tell you all about it. Gob. an orangeman Blackburn does have on the registration and he drawing his pay or Crawford gallivanting around the country at the king’s expense. Sure enough the castle car drove up with Martin on it and Jack Power with him and a fellow named Crofter or Crofton. Robbing Peter to pay Paul.

613 of 1305 . —How now. who by his mien seemed the leader of the party. The king’s friends (God bless His Majesty!) shall not go afasting in my house I warrant me. a man of pleasant countenance. girding him with his tabard. said he with an obsequious bow. he said humbly. varlet! cried he. And for ourselves give us of your best for ifaith we need it. fellow? cried the second of the party. —Cry you mercy. —Lackaday. my poor house has but a bare larder.Ulysses —Ho. Saucy knave! To us! So saying he knocked loudly with his swordhilt upon the open lattice. —Bestir thyself. —Give you good den. master Taptun? An instantaneous change overspread the landlord’s visage. Look to our steeds. my masters. An you be the king’s messengers (God shield His Majesty!) you shall not want for aught. So servest thou the king’s messengers. Mine host came forth at the summons. good masters. gentlemen. I know not what to offer your lordships. said the host. sirrah! cried he who had knocked.

a medlar tansy and a flagon of old Rhenish? —Gadzooks! cried the last speaker. a boar’s head with pistachios. Pistachios! —Aha! cried he of the pleasant countenance. —Isn’t that a fact. what I was telling the citizen about Bloom and the Sinn Fein? —That’s so. says John Wyse. why can’t a jew love his country like the next fellow? —Why not? says J. good masters. a bason of jolly custard. says John Wyse. J. a saddle of veal.. widgeon with crisp hog’s bacon. —I. So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom. That likes me well. a lusty trencherman by his aspect. Hast aught to give us? Mine host bowed again as he made answer: —What say you. —Who made those allegations? says Alf. when he’s quite sure which country it is. 614 of 1305 .Ulysses —Then about! cried the traveller who had not spoken. —Where is he? says Lenehan. —And after all. Or so they allege. Defrauding widows and orphans. some collops of venison. I’m the alligator. A poor house and a bare larder. says Joe. quotha! ‘Tis a merry rogue. to a squab pigeon pasty. says Martin.

the father did. —Isn’t he a cousin of Bloom the dentist? says Jack Power.Ulysses —Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the hell is he? says Ned. And every jew is in a tall state of excitement. from a place in Hungary and it was he drew up all the plans according to the Hungarian system. For that matter so are we. and every male that’s born they think it may be their Messiah. J. the father’s name that poisoned himself. —He’s a perverted jew. —Expecting every moment will be his next. —Not at all. says Lenehan. says Martin. till he knows if he’s a father or a mother. —Who is Junius? says J. J. Island of saints and sages! —Well. We know that in the castle. Or who is he? No offence. says Martin. says Crofter the Orangeman or presbyterian. —That’s the new Messiah for Ireland! says the citizen. they’re still waiting for their redeemer. says Martin.. His name was Virag. Crofton. —We don’t want him. 615 of 1305 . He changed it by deedpoll. I believe. —Yes. says J. Only namesakes.

616 of 1305 . —I wonder did he ever put it out of sight. by God. there’s many a true word spoken in jest. Cursed by God. 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. says Martin. Give us your blessing. —Do you call that a man? says the citizen. so it would. Then sloping off with his five quid without putting up a pint of stuff like a man. That’s what he is. says Jack Power. Lying up in the hotel Pisser was telling me once a month with headache like a totty with her courses. —And who does he suspect? says the citizen. says J. says the citizen. I met him one day in the south city markets buying a tin of Neave’s food six weeks before the wife was delivered. J. you should have seen Bloom before that son of his that died was born. Gob.Ulysses —O. there were two children born anyhow. Justifiable homicide. One of those mixed middlings he is. But where is he? We can’t wait. —En ventre sa mère. Not as much as would blind your eye. Virag from Hungary! Ahasuerus I call him. says Ned. —Charity to the neighbour. says Joe. —A wolf in sheep’s clothing. —Well.

Martin? says Ned. sons of poor Francis. cordeliers. capuchins. Trinitarians. —Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar and convert us. boatbearers. J. says Martin. We must be quick. ostiarii. says Martin. —And I’m sure He will. rapping for his glass. the blessed company drew nigh of mitred abbots and priors and guardians and monks and friars: the monks of Benedict of Spoleto. Carthusians and Camaldolesi. deacons and subdeacons. Cistercians and Olivetans. Terry. brown and grey. readers. calced and other: and friars. Brigittines. after allowing things like that to contaminate our shores. Jack? Crofton? Three half ones. says the citizen. —You. Premonstratensians. Oratorians and Vallombrosans. and the children of Peter Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Elijah prophet led by Albert bishop and by Teresa of Avila. says the citizen. says Joe.Ulysses —Have you time for a brief libation. Servi. thurifers. And at the sound of the sacring bell. and S. God bless all here is my prayer. —Well. J. minimes and observants and the daughters of Clara: and 617 of 1305 . headed by a crucifer with acolytes. —Only one. and the friars of Augustine. —Amen.

Pseudonymous and S. Fursey and S. Richard and S. Senan and S. Gall and S. Vincent de Paul and S. Frigidian and S.Ulysses the sons of Dominic. Bernard and S. Leopold and S. Terence and S. HermanJoseph and the three patrons of holy youth S. Synonymous and S. Aloysius 618 of 1305 . Fintan and S. James of Dingle and Compostella and S. Colman and S. Laurence O’Toole and S. John of God and S. Brendan and S. Felix de Cantalice and S. Homonymous and S. Cyr and S. Julian Hospitator and S. And after came all saints and martyrs. Fachtna and S. Alfred and S. Phocas of Sinope and S. Martin of Tours and S. Ives of Brittany and S. the friars preachers. Joseph and S. Isidore Arator and S. Vulmar and S. Paronymous and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Thomas Aquinas and S. Anonymous and S. Michan and S. Fiacre and S. Simon Stylites and S. Eponymous and S. Columba and S. Columcille and S. Leugarde and S. virgins and confessors: S. Edward and S. Ferreol and S. Kevin and S. Celestine and S. Denis and S. James the Less and S. Wolstan: and Ignatius his children: and the confraternity of the christian brothers led by the reverend brother Edmund Ignatius Rice. Stephen Protomartyr and S. Theodotus and S. Cornelius and S. and the sons of Vincent: and the monks of S. Columbanus and S. Martin of Todi and S. John Nepomuc and S.

Dympna and S. keys. bellows. illuminare and thereafter most sweetly the 619 of 1305 . hawks. axes.Ulysses Gonzaga and S. And all came with nimbi and aureoles and gloriae. loaves. Barbara and S. wax candles. bearing palms and harps and swords and olive crowns. Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. babes in a bathtub. watertight boots. Capel street. lamps. snakes. aspergills. in robes whereon were woven the blessed symbols of their efficacies. Little Britain street chanting the introit in Epiphania Domini which beginneth Surge. arrows. inkhorns. stars. Martha of Bethany and S. Finbarr and S. boxes of vaseline. unicorns. stags’ horns. buckshot. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S. Brigid and S. anvils. Servasius and Bonifacius and S. wallets. Ita and S. Henry street. trees. lilies. shells. Attracta and S. millstones. cruses. beehives. dragons. forceps. crutches. shears. beards. hogs. Mary street. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Stanislaus Kostka and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Bride and S. Scholastica and S. bells. And as they wended their way by Nelson’s Pillar. bridges. soupladles. Lucy and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. Kieran and S. John Berchmans and the saints Gervasius. eyes on a dish. fetters.

wine and brandy shippers. And when the good fathers had reached the appointed place. healing the halt and the blind. wine and spirits for consumption on the premises. 8. And last. —Qui fecit coelum et terram. 9 and 10 little Britain street. discovering various articles which had been mislaid. licensed fo the sale of beer. interpreting and fulfilling the scriptures. the 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. —Adiutorium nostrum in nomine Domini. beneath a canopy of cloth of gold came the reverend Father O’Flynn attended by Malachi and Patrick. limited. multiplying fishes. And entering he blessed the viands and the beverages and the company of all the blessed answered his prayers. blessing and prophesying. 620 of 1305 .Ulysses gradual Omnes which saith de Saba venient they did divers wonders such as casting out devils. wholesale grocers. the house of Bernard Kiernan and Co. raising the dead to life.

benedictionem 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.Ulysses —Dominus vobiscum. looking for you. says Martin. Mean bloody scut.. —I was just round at the courthouse. says he. 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. Stand us a drink 621 of 1305 . says Ned. Lambert. says Jack. —And so say all of us. we’re ready.. —Right. says Crofton or Crawford. cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia. taking up his John Jameson. And he laid his hands upon that he blessed and gave thanks and he prayed and they all with him prayed: —Deus. Courthouse my eye and your pockets hanging down with gold and silver. —Et cum spiritu tuo. I hope I’m not . —Thousand a year. And butter for fish. —No.

Hundred to five. —Bye bye all. letting a bawl out of him. says he. they 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 622 of 1305 . And he got them out as quick as he could. And the bloody dog woke up and let a growl. Jack 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. seeing it was looking blue. Devil a sweet fear! There’s a jew for you! All for number one. says the citizen. says Martin. says Martin.Ulysses itself. the spinnaker to larboard. It’s a secret. —Beg your pardon. —Come on boys. clinging to the sides of the noble bark. —-Off with you. A many comely nymphs drew nigh to starboard and to larboard and. —Don’t tell anyone. says the citizen. —Don’t tell anyone. Cute as a shithouse rat. says Martin to the jarvey. rising in the golden poop the helmsman spread the bellying sail upon the wind and stood off forward with all sail set. The milkwhite dolphin tossed his mane and. Come along now.

But begob I was just lowering the heel of the pint when I saw the citizen getting up to waddle to the door. and he cursing the curse of Cromwell on him. Gob. Even so did they come and set them. the undying sisters. —Let me alone. And they laughed.Ulysses 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. says he. 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 623 of 1305 . those willing nymphs. spitting and spatting out of him and Joe and little Alf round him like a leprechaun trying to peacify him. so it would. book and candle in Irish. Jesus. sit down on the parliamentary side of your arse for Christ’ sake and don’t be making a public exhibition of yourself. it’d turn the porter sour in your guts. bell. there’s always some bloody clown or other kicking up a bloody murder about bloody nothing. puffing and blowing with the dropsy. And begob he got as far as the door and they holding him and he bawls out of him: —Three cheers for Israel! Arrah. sporting in a circle of their foam: and the bark clave the waves.

Your God was a jew. Drive ahead. I’ll crucify him so I will. mister! Your fly is open. —He had no father. By Jesus. —Well. That’ll do now. says Martin.Ulysses 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 jew. Your God. says he. his uncle was a jew. the citizen made a plunge back into the shop. —Stop! Stop! says Joe. Give us that biscuitbox here. Christ was a jew like me. jew and a slut shouts out of her: —Eh. says he. jew. And the Saviour was a jew and his father was a jew. —By Jesus. —Whose God? says the citizen. Gob. A large and appreciative gathering of friends and acquaintances from the metropolis and greater Dublin assembled in their thousands to bid farewell to Nagyasagos 624 of 1305 . mister! And says he: —Mendelssohn was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza. I’ll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name.

Bray Head. Three Rock Mountain. late of Messrs Alexander Thom’s. many of those who were present being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck up the wellknown strains of Come back to Erin. the Galtees. Sugarloaf. Slieve Bernagh and Slieve Bloom. responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of 625 of 1305 . tastefully executed in the style of ancient Celtic ornament. Slieve Aughty. An illuminated scroll of ancient Irish vellum. the Nagles and the Bograghs. the reeks of M Gillicuddy. the Ox and Donegal and Sperrin peaks. a work which reflects every credit on the makers. The ceremony which went off with great éclat was characterised by the most affecting cordiality. The departing guest was the recipient of a hearty ovation. Messrs Jacob agus Jacob. printers to His Majesty. Tarbarrels and bonfires were lighted along the coastline of the four seas on the summits of the Hill of Howth. the mountains of Mourne. the Connemara hills. Amid cheers that rent the welkin. followed immediately by Rakoczsy’s March. the work of Irish artists. on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas (Meadow of Murmuring Waters). was presented to the distinguished phenomenologist on behalf of a large section of the community and was accompanied by the gift of a silver casket.Ulysses uram Lipoti Virag.

escorted by a flotilla of barges. Mercy of God the sun was in his eyes or he’d have left him for dead. says I. J. as it proceeded down the river. Visszontlátásra. But as luck would have it the jarvey got the nag’s head round the other way and off with him. the 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 pig. —Hold on. the mastodontic pleasureship slowly moved away saluted by a final floral tribute from the representatives of the fair sex who were present in large numbers while. paralysed with the laughing. says Joe. as good as any bloody play in the Queen’s royal theatre: —Where is he till I murder him? And Ned and J. Gob. kedves baráton! Visszontlátásra! Gone but not forgotten. —Bloody wars. he near sent it into the county Longford. citizen. Stop! Begob he drew his hand and made a swipe and let fly. the 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. Gob. The bloody nag took fright and the old 626 of 1305 .Ulysses henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills. I’ll be in for the last gospel.

all of the fifth grade of Mercalli’s scale. and there is no record extant of a similar seismic disturbance in our island since the earthquake of 1534. All the lordly residences in the vicinity of the palace of justice were demolished and that noble edifice itself. From the reports of eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves were accompanied by a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic character. the year of the rebellion of Silken Thomas. The observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocks. crest. is literally a mass of ruins beneath which it is to be feared all the occupants have been buried alive. The catastrophe was terrific and instantaneous in its effect. 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. 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 initials. two roods and one square pole or perch. in which at the time of the catastrophe important legal debates were in progress. coat of arms and house number of the 627 of 1305 .Ulysses mongrel after the car like bloody hell and all the populace shouting and laughing and the old tinbox clattering along the street.

human remains etc has been entrusted to Messrs Michael Meade and Son. 159 Great Brunswick street. H.. Martin. the latter embedded to the extent of one foot three inches in the sandy beach of Holeopen bay near the old head of Kinsale. 77. have been discovered by search parties in remote parts of the island respectively. and Messrs T. 78. The work of salvage. R. removal of débris. and C. 79 and 80 North Wall. the former on the third basaltic ridge of the giant’s causeway. recorder of Dublin. 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. 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. 628 of 1305 . assisted by the men and officers of the Duke of Cornwall’s light infantry under the general supervision of H.Ulysses erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter sessions sir Frederick Falkiner.

G.. J. F.. B. but begob the citizen would have been lagged for assault and battery and Joe for aiding and abetting.. Jesus. says he. H. C. F. G. Mus. K. C. D. M. I. R. M. I... B. A. or what? And he shouting to the bloody dog: —After him.. he took the value of it out of him. M. R. R. he would so. K. L. K. O. B. And he let a volley of oaths after him. I... C. Garry! After him. boy! 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. P. C. When.Ulysses rear admiral. S. R. F.. P. O. —Did I kill him. T. What? O.. S. lo. Hundred to five! Jesus. S. D. and F.. he did.. I promise you. Doc. F. You never saw the like of it in all your born puff. clothed 629 of 1305 . The jarvey saved his life by furious driving as sure as God made Moses. P. I. And they beheld Him in the chariot. if he got that lottery ticket on the side of his poll he’d remember the gold cup. U. D. P. T.. P. P. Gob.. the right honourable sir Hercules Hannibal Habeas Corpus Anderson. M. C.. there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven.. L. K.

ben Bloom Elijah.Ulysses upon in the glory of the brightness. on the proud promontory of dear old Howth guarding as ever the waters of the bay. on the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and. ***** The summer evening had begun to fold the world in its mysterious embrace. calling: Elijah! Elijah! And He answered with a main cry: Abba! Adonai! And they beheld Him even Him. enjoying the evening scene and the air which was fresh but not too chilly. on 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 man. Far away in the west the sun was setting and the last glow of all too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and strand. The three girl friends were seated on the rocks. Many a time and oft were they wont to 630 of 1305 . And there came a voice out of heaven. amid 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. last but not least. star of the sea. Mary. having raiment as of the sun. fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they durst not look upon Him.

building castles as children do. —Now. 631 of 1305 . He was but eleven months and nine days old and. Say out big. And baby prattled after her: —A jink a jink a jawbo.S. was just beginning to lisp his first babyish words. or playing with their big coloured ball. I want a drink of water. Cissy Caffrey and Edy Boardman with the baby in the pushcar and Tommy and Jacky Caffrey. big. Cissy Caffrey said. two little curlyheaded boys. baby.M.Ulysses come there to that favourite nook to have a cosy chat beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine. happy as the day was long. dressed in sailor suits with caps to match and the name H. though still a tiny toddler. Cissy Caffrey bent over to him to tease his fat little plucks and the dainty dimple in his chin. Belleisle printed on both. scarce 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. And Edy Boardman was rocking the chubby baby to and fro in the pushcar while that young gentleman fairly chuckled with delight. They were dabbling in the sand with their spades and buckets. For Tommy and Jacky Caffrey were twins.

always with a laugh in her gipsylike eyes and a frolicsome word on her cherryripe red lips.Ulysses Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she was awfully fond of children. Boys will be boys and our two twins were no exception to this golden rule. A truerhearted lass never drew the breath of life. true to the maxim that every little Irishman’s house is his castle. What a persuasive power that girl had! But to be sure baby Boardman was as good as gold. he fell upon his hated rival and to such purpose that the wouldbe assailant came to grief and (alas to relate!) 632 of 1305 . But just then there was a slight altercation between Master Tommy and Master Jacky. Flora MacFlimsy sort. And Edy Boardman laughed too at the quaint language of little brother. 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. a perfect little dote in his new fancy bib. But if Master Tommy was headstrong Master Jacky was selfwilled too and. 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. a girl lovable in the extreme. was Cissy Caffrey. None of your spoilt beauties.

Is Cissy your sweetheart? 633 of 1305 . —Come here. His eyes misty with unshed tears Master Tommy came at her call for their big sister’s word was law with the twins.Ulysses the coveted castle too. —Nasty bold Jacky! she cried. Wait till I catch you for that. his sister called imperatively. Needless to say the cries of discomfited Master Tommy drew the attention of the girl friends. for shame to throw poor Tommy in the dirty sand. Tommy. 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 him. 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. Jacky. her eyes dancing in admonition. At once! And you. And in a sad plight he was too after his misadventure. spoke Edy Boardman. She put an arm round the little mariner and coaxed winningly: —What’s your name? Butter and cream? —Tell us who is your sweetheart.

Tommy said. She was pronounced beautiful by all who knew her though. The waxen pallor of her face was almost spiritual in its 634 of 1305 . —Nao. tearful Tommy said. But who was Gerty? Gerty MacDowell who was seated near her companions. Her figure was slight and graceful.Ulysses —Nao. Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an arch glance from her shortsighted eyes. as fair a specimen of winsome Irish girlhood as one could wish to see. as folks often said. 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. Gerty is Tommy’s sweetheart. I know who is Tommy’s sweetheart. —Nao. gazing far away into the distance was. —Is Edy Boardman your sweetheart? Cissy queried. in very truth. she was more a Giltrap than a MacDowell. Tommy said on the verge of tears. —I know. 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. lost in thought.

No. 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. There was an innate refinement. that lent to her softlyfeatured face at whiles a look. a languid queenly hauteur about Gerty which was unmistakably evidenced in her delicate hands and higharched instep. Honour where honour is due. Mayhap it was this. tense with suppressed meaning. 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. a deliberate lie. that imparted a strange yearning 635 of 1305 . when 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.Ulysses ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a genuine Cupid’s bow. the love that might have been. Bertha Supple told that once to Edy Boardman. Greekly perfect.

But Gerty’s crowning glory was her wealth of wonderful hair. 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. and she had never regretted it. Time was when those brows were not so silkily seductive. 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 too. crept 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. She was about to retort but something checked the words on her tongue. delicate as the faintest rosebloom. It was Madame Vera Verity. set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive brows. And just now at Edy’s words as a telltale flush. Inclination prompted her to speak 636 of 1305 . For an instant she was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. Thursday for wealth. so becoming in leaders of fashion. a charm few could resist. Why have women such eyes of witchery? Gerty’s were of the bluest Irish blue. who had first advised her to try eyebrowleine which gave that haunting expression to the eyes. It was dark brown with a natural wave in it.Ulysses tendency to the beautiful eyes. directress of the Woman Beautiful page of the Princess Novelette.

But he was undeniably handsome with an exquisite nose and he was what he looked. 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. what 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. Yet he was young and perchance he might learn to love her in time. E. the shape of his head too at the back without his cap on that she would know anywhere something off the common and the way 637 of 1305 . no-one better.Ulysses out: dignity told her to be silent. Little recked he perhaps for what she felt. 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. that dull aching void in her heart sometimes. every inch a gentleman. They were protestants in his family and of course Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the Blessed Virgin and then Saint Joseph. Wylie who was racing in the bicycle races in Trinity college university. She knew right well. piercing to the core.

She did it up all by herself and what joy was 638 of 1305 .Ulysses 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. All Tuesday week afternoon she was hunting to match that chenille but at last she found what she wanted at Clery’s summer sales. 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. 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. the very it. seven fingers two and a penny. slightly shopsoiled but you would never notice. 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.

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. three garments and nighties extra.Ulysses hers when she tried it on then. oak or elm) with patent toecaps and just one smart buckle over her higharched instep. and 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 luck. 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. and never would ash. mauve and peagreen. and each set slotted with different coloured ribbons. 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 stitchery. rosepink. 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 MacDowell. hoping against 639 of 1305 . a five. pale blue.

she had known from the very first that her daydream of a marriage has been arranged and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs Reggy Wylie T. The paly light of evening falls upon a face infinitely sad and wistful. Yes. it said. giving way to tears. her 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.Ulysses hope. Gerty. she could have a good cry and relieve her pentup feelingsthough not too much because she knew how to cry nicely before the mirror. And yet and yet! That strained look on her face! A gnawing sorrow is there all the time. You are lovely. Her very soul is in her eyes and she would give worlds to be in the privacy of her own familiar chamber where. C. D. Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. (because the one who married the elder brother would be Mrs Wylie) and in the fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was wearing a sumptuous 640 of 1305 .

strain her to him in all the strength of his deep passionate nature and comfort her with a long long kiss. 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. take her in his sheltering arms. and who would understand. in 641 of 1305 . For such a one she yearns this balmy summer eve. He would not believe in love. always waiting to be asked and it was leap year too and would soon be over. But waiting. It would be like heaven.Ulysses confection of grey trimmed with expensive blue fox was not to be. a woman’s birthright. With all the heart of her she longs to be his only. his affianced bride for riches for poor. He was too young to understand. 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. 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. 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 ideal. perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey.

Then they could talk about her till they went blue in the face. from this to this day forward.Ulysses sickness in health. 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. because she would be twentytwo in November. till death us two part. dredge in the fine selfraising flour and always stir in the same direction. Bertha Supple too. and Edy. 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 fire. then 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 642 of 1305 . little spitfire.

he was a man already was little Tommy Caffrey since he was out of pinnies. every morning they would both have brekky. for 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. 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 ground. The temper of him! O. 643 of 1305 .Ulysses they have in rich houses. if you please. Edy told him no. 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. no and to be off now with him and she told Cissy Caffrey not to give in to him. simple but perfectly served. when they settled down in a nice snug and cosy little homely house. 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 then.

look up high at her finger and she snatched the ball quickly and threw it along the sand and Tommy after it in full career. It’s my ball. where I won’t say. chinchopper. 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 say. —Anything for a quiet life. laughed Cissy merrily. laughed Ciss. —On the beeoteetom. But Edy got as cross as two sticks about him getting his own way like that from everyone always petting him. chinchopper. so I would. here’s his two horses. having won the day. And she tickled tiny tot’s two cheeks to make him forget and played here’s the lord mayor. But not a pin cared Ciss. chinchopper chin. But Cissy Caffrey told baby Boardman to look up. and Edy Boardman said she was sure the gentleman opposite heard what she said. naughty Tommy said. 644 of 1305 .Ulysses —You’re not my sister. flushing a deep rosy red. here’s his gingerbread carriage and here he walks in. she said. —I’d like to give him something.

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. And then there came out upon the air the sound of voices and the pealing anthem of the organ. one of the bravest and truest hearts heaven ever made. rosary. But she was sincerity itself. It was the men’s temperance retreat conducted by the missioner. There was none to come up to her for fun. Madcap Ciss with her golliwog curls. and 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 road. not one of your twofaced things. J..Ulysses —Let him! she said with a pert toss of her head and a piquant tilt of her nose. They were there gathered together without distinction of social class (and a most edifying spectacle it was to see) in that simple 645 of 1305 . smoking a cigarette. the reverend John Hughes S. You had to laugh at her sometimes. That was just like Cissycums. Give it to him too on the same place as quick as I’d look at him. too sweet to be wholesome. O. sermon and benediction of the Most Blessed Sacrament.

But that vile decoction which has ruined so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her childhood days. the old familiar words. holy Mary. How sad to poor Gerty’s ears! Had her father only avoided the clutches of the demon drink.Ulysses fane beside the waves. thinking. reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto. 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 bucket. beseeching her to intercede for them. And Gerty. deserves to be branded as the lowest of the low. kneeling before the feet of the immaculate. rapt in thought. a prey to the fumes of intoxication. second to none. holy virgin of virgins. Nay. scarce saw or heard her companions or the twins 646 of 1305 . by taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson’s Weekly. And still the voices sang in supplication to the Virgin most powerful. Virgin most merciful. forget 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 kindness. she had even witnessed in the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and had seen her own father. she might now be rolling in her carriage. after the storms of this weary world.

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 lino. 647 of 1305 . God have mercy on him. Poor father! With all his faults she loved him still when he sang Tell me. Mary.Ulysses 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. No-one would have thought the end was so near. how 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 buried. from a stroke. 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. 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. artistic. Now he was laid to rest.

Everyone thought the world of her for her gentle ways. A sterling good daughter was Gerty just like a second mother in the house.Ulysses standard designs. She was in a soft clinging white in a studied attitude and the gentleman was in chocolate and he looked a thorough aristocrat. fit for a palace. the 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. a ministering angel too with a little heart worth its weight in gold. 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 almanac. 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 about. The colours were done something lovely. You could see there was a story behind it. She often looked at them dreamily when she went there for a certain purpose and felt her own arms that were white and 648 of 1305 . taking snuff. gives tiptop wear and always bright and cheery in the home.

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 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. Edy Boardman said. 649 of 1305 . 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 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. —If you fail try again.Ulysses 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.

Pure jealousy of course it was nothing else to draw attention on account of the gentleman opposite looking. wan and strangely drawn. seemed to her the saddest she had ever seen. 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. honourable vessel. pray for us. mystical rose. pray for us. surging and flaming into her cheeks. pray for us. 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 sin. a danger signal always with Gerty MacDowell. the 650 of 1305 .Ulysses Gerty smiled assent and bit her lip. spiritual vessel. 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 twilight. vessel of singular devotion. She felt the warm flush. their 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 Mary. And careworn hearts were there and toilers for their daily bread and many who had erred and wandered.

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! and. my word. clapping baby hands in air. 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. they said. Of course his infant majesty was most 651 of 1305 . baby.Ulysses 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. and he would certainly turn out to be something great. The twins were now playing again right merrily for the troubles of childhood are but as fleeting summer showers. Say pa pa pa pa pa pa pa. that he was possing wet and to double the half blanket the other way under him. didn’t the little chap enjoy that! And then she told him to say papa. a perfect little bunch of love. —Say papa. 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. —Haja ja ja haja. holy saint Denis. Cissy Caffrey played with baby Boardman till he crowed with glee.

His eyes burned into her as though they would search her through and through. gave him in his mouth the teat of the suckingbottle and the young heathen was quickly appeased. it was her he was looking at. Wonderful eyes they were. and the little brats of twins. baby. superbly expressive. And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. the 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.Ulysses obstreperous at such toilet formalities and he let everyone know it: —Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa. She gazed out towards the distant sea. read her very soul. Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out of that and not get on her nerves. no hour to be out. And while she gazed her heart went pitapat. nono. no and telling him about the geegee and where was the puffpuff but Ciss. 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 out. Yes. but could you trust them? People were so 652 of 1305 . It was all no use soothering him with no. and there was meaning in his look. always readywitted.

and the story of a haunting sorrow was written on his face. The very heart of the girlwoman went out to him. because she knew on the instant it was him. If he had suffered. even. she cared 653 of 1305 . if he had been himself a sinner. she could see that. 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.Ulysses queer. She could see at once by his dark eyes and his pale intellectual face that he was a foreigner. He was looking up so intently. a wicked man. the matinee idol. so still. He was in deep mourning. more sinned against than sinning. and 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. the image of the photo she had of Martin Harvey. or even. only 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 retroussé from where he was sitting. She would have given worlds to know what it was. her dreamhusband.

Ora pro nobis. She was a womanly woman not like other flighty girls unfeminine he had known. like a real man. the stained glass windows lighted up. his ownest girlie. and love her. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church. There were wounds that wanted healing with heartbalm. to forgive all if she could make him fall in love with her. the candles. make him forget the memory of the past. 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 654 of 1305 . 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.Ulysses not. Even if he was a protestant or methodist she could convert him easily if he truly loved her. those cyclists showing off what they hadn’t got and she just yearned to know all. carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. Then mayhap he would embrace her gently. the flowers and the blue banners of the blessed Virgin’s sodality and Father Conroy was helping Canon O’Hanlon at the altar. Comfortress of the afflicted. crushing her soft body to him. for herself alone. Refuge of sinners.

Someone ought to take them and give them a good hiding for themselves to keep them in their places. He told her that time when she told him about that in confession. 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. And Cissy and Edy shouted after them 655 of 1305 . and that Our Blessed Lady herself said to the archangel Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word. he said.Ulysses for the novena of Saint Dominic. he said. in this life and that that was no sin because that came from the nature of woman instituted by God. crimsoning up to the roots of her hair for fear he could see. Little monkeys common as ditchwater. the both of them. not to be troubled because that was only the voice of nature and we were all subject to nature’s laws.

tossing 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. 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. She jumped up and called them and she ran down the slope past him. 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. Tableau! That would have been a very charming expose for a gentleman like that to witness. 656 of 1305 .Ulysses 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.

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 657 of 1305 . 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. no the Monday before Easter and there wasn’t a brack on them and that was what he was looking at. they prayed. queen of prophets.Ulysses Queen of angels. queen of patriarchs. queen 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 Tuesday. transparent. of all saints.

She could almost see the swift answering flash of admiration in his eyes that set her tingling in every nerve. Gerty just took off her hat for a moment to settle her hair and a prettier.Ulysses 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. pretending to nurse the baby. almost maddening in its sweetness. You would have to travel many a long mile before you found a head of hair the like of that. in sooth. 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. And she said to Gerty: —A penny for your thoughts. half smiling. Edy Boardman was noticing it too because she was squinting at Gerty. He was eying her as a snake eyes its prey. 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. with her specs like an old maid. 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. 658 of 1305 . a daintier head of nutbrown tresses was never seen on a girl’s shoulders—a radiant little vision.

and the next moment it was the quiet gravefaced gentleman. selfcontrol expressed in every line of his distinguishedlooking figure. But Edy wanted to know because they were told to be in early. fascinated by a loveliness that made him gaze.Ulysses —What? replied Gerty with a smile reinforced by the whitest of teeth. listening to it and looking up and clearing his throat and he said he was very sorry his watch 659 of 1305 . looking up at the church. So over she went and when he saw her coming she could see him take his hand out of his pocket. 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. I’ll run ask my uncle Peter over there what’s the time by his conundrum. said it was half past kissing time. and beginning to play with his watchchain. time to kiss again. One moment he had been there. Passionate nature though he was Gerty could see that he had enormous control over himself. And when Cissy came up Edy asked her the time and Miss Cissy. —Wait. said Cissy. I was only wondering was it late. Cissy said to excuse her would he mind please telling her what was the right time and Gerty could see him taking out his watch. as glib as you like. getting nervous.

Ulysses was stopped but he thought it must be after eight because the sun was set. 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. 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. If ever there was undisguised admiration in a man’s passionate gaze it 660 of 1305 . Cissy said thanks and came back with her tongue out and said uncle said his waterworks were out of order. His dark eyes fixed themselves on her again drinking in her every contour. literally worshipping at her shrine. 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.

so slim. and you know it.Ulysses was there plain to be seen on that man’s face. Lighthearted deceiver and 661 of 1305 . 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. A brief cold blaze shone from her eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. so flawless. Gerty winced sharply. It is for you. Gerty’s lips parted swiftly to frame the word but she fought back the sob that rose to her throat. She had loved him better than he knew. so beautifully moulded it seemed one an artist might have dreamed of. Gertrude MacDowell. It hurt—O yes. it 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.

and the proud head flashed up. responded Gerty. 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. —O.Ulysses 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. I can throw my cap at who I like because it’s leap year. Her words rang out crystalclear. There was that in her young voice that told that she was not a one to be lightly trifled with. but they cut the silence icily. more musical than the cooing of the ringdove. the little kinnatt. 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 it. quick as lightning. because that shaft had struck home for her petty jealousy and they both knew that she was something aloof. laughing. 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. 662 of 1305 . 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.

sent up his compliments to all and sundry on to his brandnew dribbling bib. He has his bib destroyed. The slight contretemps claimed her attention but in two twos she set that little matter to rights. 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. 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.Ulysses apart. 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 663 of 1305 . laughing up out of his gleeful eyes. without as much as by your leave. and Cissy poked him like that out of fun in his wee fat tummy and baby. in another sphere. —O my! Puddeny pie! protested Ciss. And Cissy told him too that billy winks was coming and that baby was to go deedaw and baby looked just too ducky.

the last glimpse of Erin. 664 of 1305 .Ulysses 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. the touching chime of those evening bells and at the same time a bat flew forth from the ivied belfry through the dusk. author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales. was scrupulously neat and clean. How moving the scene there in the gathering twilight. It was there she kept her girlish treasure trove. 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 Cummins. thither. hither. 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 which. with a tiny lost cry. though it did not err on the side of luxury.

Art thou real. she felt. There was the allimportant question and she was dying to know was he a married man or a widower 665 of 1305 . and after there was something about twilight. wilt thou ever? and ofttimes the beauty of poetry. one by one. my ideal? it was called by Louis J Walsh. so sad in its transient loveliness. the eyebrowleine. She would make the great sacrifice. and 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. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. Magherafelt. If she saw that magic lure in his eyes there would be no holding back for her. Dearer than the whole world would she be to him and gild his days with happiness. But it must end. the whiterose scent. her child of Mary badge.Ulysses the tortoiseshell combs. Love laughs at locksmiths. her 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. had misted her eyes with silent tears for she felt that the years were slipping by for her.

free. The old love was waiting.Ulysses 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 madhouse. the only man in all the world for her for love was the master guide. waiting with little white hands stretched out. 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. 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. with blue appealing eyes. Come what might she would be wild. She would try to understand him because men were so different. Heart of mine! She would follow. her dream of love. Nothing else mattered. No. She loathed that sort of person. untrammelled. cruel only to be kind. Perhaps it was an old flame he was in mourning for from the days beyond recall. no: not that. She thought she understood. But even if—what then? Would it make a very great difference? From everything in the least indelicate her finebred nature instinctively recoiled. Canon O’Hanlon put the Blessed Sacrament back into the tabernacle and genuflected and the choir sang Laudate 666 of 1305 . the dictates of her heart that told her he was her all in all.

And they all ran down the strand to see over the houses and the church. It’s the bazaar fireworks. and it had made her his. —It’s fireworks. But Gerty was adamant. If they could run like rossies she could sit so she said she could see from where she was. Cissy! And they all looked was it sheet lightning but Tommy saw it too over the trees beside the church. blue and then green and purple. At last they were left alone without the others to pry and pass remarks and she knew he could be trusted to the 667 of 1305 . Cissy called. and a light broke in upon her. passion silent as the grave. She looked at him a moment. Edy with the pushcar with baby Boardman in it and Cissy holding Tommy and Jacky by the hand so they wouldn’t fall running. look. Cissy Caffrey said. —Come on. She had no intention of being at their beck and call. meeting his glance. helterskelter. Whitehot passion was in that face. Gerty. The eyes that were fastened upon her set her pulses tingling.Ulysses 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: —O.

His hands and face were working and a tremour went over her. a man of inflexible honour to his fingertips. his hoarse breathing. steadfast. because 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. supply soft and delicately rounded.Ulysses death. because she knew too about the passion of men like that. a sterling man. and she seemed to hear the panting of his heart. 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 668 of 1305 . hotblooded. 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 noone to see only him and her when she revealed all her graceful beautifully shaped legs like that. 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.

there it was and she leaned back ever so far to see the fireworks and something queer was flying through the air.Ulysses eyes so that she too. my dear. 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 it. four and eleven. the green. a soft thing. up. almost out of sight. and. an entrancing blush from straining back and he could see her other things too. and Winny Rippingham so mad about actors’ photographs and besides it was on account of that other thing coming on the way it did. to and fro. there 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 look. up. And Jacky Caffrey shouted to look. better than those other pettiwidth. look. dark. high. and her face was suffused with a divine. in the tense hush. nainsook knickers. high. the fabric that caresses the skin. And she saw a long Roman candle going up over the trees. 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 669 of 1305 .

O so lovely.Ulysses 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 looking. Ah! She glanced at him as she bent forward quickly. looking. the cry of a young girl’s love. soft! Then all melted away dewily in the grey air: all was silent. She would fain have cried to him chokingly. that cry that has rung through the ages. O. of shy reproach under which he coloured like a girl He was leaning back against the rock behind. a pathetic little glance of piteous protest. sweet. held out her snowy slender arms to him to come. 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. a little strangled cry. to feel his lips laid on her white brow. soft. Leopold Bloom (for it is he) stands silent. What a brute he had been! At it again? A fair unsullied soul had called to him and. wrung from her. how had he answered? An utter cad he had been! He of all men! But there was an infinite store of mercy in 670 of 1305 . with bowed head before those young guileless eyes. wretch that he was.

hung enraptured on her sweet flowerlike face. tomorrow. of her dream of yester eve. Come on. She half smiled at him wanly. for him too a word of pardon even though he had erred and sinned and wandered. and then they parted. Was it goodbye? No. and she would dream of that till then. She drew herself up to her full height. Gerty had an idea. only theirs. imitating the boys in the football field to show what a great person she was: and then she cried: —Gerty! Gerty! We’re going. Their souls met in a last lingering glance and the eyes that reached her heart. one of love’s little ruses.Ulysses those eyes. She had to go but they would meet again. Should a girl tell? No. 671 of 1305 . 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. She rose. full of a strange shining. alone 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. Wonder if he’s too far to. a sweet forgiving smile. Cissy Caffrey whistled. a smile that verged on tears. a thousand times no. We can see from farther up. there. That was their secret.

without looking back she went down the uneven strand to Cissy. all right. Licking pennies.. she. makes them feel ticklish. Virgins go mad in the end I suppose. Something in the air. Tight boots? No. A defect is ten times worse in a woman. It was darker now and there were stones and bits of wood on the strand and slippy seaweed. Jilted beauty.Ulysses Slowly. to Edy to Jacky and Tommy Caffrey. That’s the moon. Curiosity like a nun or a negress or a girl with glasses. But then why don’t all women menstruate at the same time with the 672 of 1305 . I expect. She’s lame! O! Mr Bloom watched her as she limped away. Sister? How many women in Dublin have it today? Martha. But makes them polite. All kinds of crazy longings. Poor girl! That’s why she’s left on the shelf and the others did a sprint. Near her monthlies. to little baby Boardman. Girl in Tranquilla convent that nun told me liked to smell rock oil. That squinty one is delicate. Where did I put the letter? Yes. I wouldn’t mind. Glad I didn’t know it when she was on show. I have such a bad headache today. She walked with a certain quiet dignity characteristic of her but with care and very slowly because—because Gerty MacDowell was . Thought something was wrong by the cut of her jib.. Hot little devil all the same.

Excites them also when they’re. I’m all clean come and dirty me. Don’t want it they throw it at you. He wore a pair of gaiters the night that first we met.Ulysses same moon. Because they want it themselves. Made up for that tramdriver this morning. yes. Peeping Tom. Pity they can’t see themselves. Their natural craving. At first. his lovely socks and turnedup trousers. Put them all on to take them all off. Willy’s hat and what the girls did with it. O. Sometimes Molly and Milly together. Yours for the asking. Milly delighted with Molly’s new blouse. Anyhow I got the best of that. Shoals of them every evening poured out of offices. Reserve better. And his wife engagement in the country valise. His lovely shirt was shining 673 of 1305 . Felt for the curves inside her deshabillé. That gouger M’Coy stopping me to say nothing. Catch em alive. And they like dressing one another for the sacrifice. Or all start scratch then get out of step. Us too: the tie he wore. Mutoscope pictures in Capel street: for men only. voice like a pickaxe. Cheap too. Where was that? Ah. I mean? Depends on the time they were born I suppose. Molly. A dream of wellfilled hose. Do they snapshot those girls or is it all a fake? Lingerie does it. Thankful for small mercies. Why I bought her the violet garters. Damned glad I didn’t do it in the bath this morning over her silly I will punish you letter.

No reasonable offer refused. Girl friends at school. Fashion part of their charm. kissing and whispering secrets about nothing in the convent garden. And the others inclined to give her an odd dig. Till Mr Right comes along. look who it is for the love of God! How are you at all? What have you been doing with yourself? Kiss and delighted to. Out on spec probably. Dressed up to the nines for somebody. Now won’t you? Molly and Josie Powell. Pinned together.Ulysses beneath his what? of jet. She wasn’t in a hurry either. to see you. vindictive too for what they can’t get. Tableau! O. Picking holes in each other’s appearance. Always off to a fellow when they are. arms round each other’s necks or with ten fingers locked. Just changes when you’re on the track of the secret. And I’ll write to you. Showing their teeth at one another. They never forget an appointment. Sister souls. 674 of 1305 . Barbed wire. Say a woman loses a charm with every pin she takes out. Be sure now and write to me. kiss. You’re looking splendid. How many have you left? Wouldn’t lend each other a pinch of salt. then meet once in a blue moon. They believe in chance because like themselves. Martha: now as then. cool coifs and their rosaries going up and down. Mairy lost the pin of her. Nuns with whitewashed faces. Except the east: Mary. O.

Wonder what. Took off her hat to show her hair. you never know. Molly often told me feel things a ton weight. Daresay she felt 1. Wonder if it’s bad to go with them then. Gently does it. Besides they say if the flower withers she wears she’s a flirt. makes fiddlestrings snap. Bought to hide her face. lovelock over his dexter optic. Good to rest once in a way. Wide brim. Besides I can’t be so if Molly. Beauty and the beast. Pretty girls and ugly men marrying. Always know a fellow courting: collars and cuffs. Kiss in the dark and never tell. that’s exquisite! Feel it myself too. Liked me or what? Dress they look at. Still. O that way! O. Something about withering plants I read in a garden. Dark devilish appearance. Safe in one way. Same time might prefer a tie undone or something. bend down 675 of 1305 . Trousers? Suppose I when I was? No. Didn’t let her see me in profile. To aid gentleman in literary. When you feel like that you often meet what you feel. Sooner have me as I am than some poet chap with bearsgrease plastery hair. Scratch the sole of my foot. meeting someone might know her. Well cocks and lions do the same and stags. Ought to attend to my appearance my age.Ulysses Ah! Devils they are when that’s coming on them. All are. Saw something in me. Turns milk. Dislike rough and tumble.

Curtain up. Bold hand: Mrs Marion. Done. Mrs Bracegirdle. that little limping devil. Complimented perhaps. Begins to feel cold and clammy. Amours of actresses. fifteen. Wrangle with Molly it was put me off. Nell Gwynn. 676 of 1305 . Save. Hair strong in rut. The name too. Was that just when he. What? I think so. They don’t care. she? O. Go home to nicey bread and milky and say night prayers with the kiddies. aren’t they? See her as she is spoil all. a pound. Ah! Mr Bloom with careful hand recomposed his wet shirt. music. Could do it myself. Dust. Must have the stage setting. Shark liver oil they use to clean. Well.Ulysses or carry a bunch of flowers to smell. O Lord. She did. Ten bob I got for Molly’s combings when we were on the rocks in Holles street. Funny my watch stopped at half past four. No. She’s worth ten. Why not? Suppose he gave her money. Richie Goulding: he’s another. Aftereffect not pleasant. Into her. Weighs on his mind. All that for nothing. Maud Branscombe. he did. I remember. costume. Why not? All a prejudice. position. the rouge. 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. Still you have to get rid of it someway. more.

All the dirty things I made her say. That’s the secret of it. It’s so hard to find one who. Good job I let off there behind the wall coming out of Dignam’s. Good idea if you’re stuck. Wish she hadn’t called me sir. All wrong of course. Glad to get away from other chap’s wife. Eating off his cold plate. Taking a man from another woman. O but the dark evening in the Appian way I nearly spoke to Mrs Clinch O thinking she was. Suppose I spoke to her. What about? Bad plan however if you don’t know how to end the conversation. Cider that was. And kissed my hand when I gave her the extra two shillings. Gain time. Little sweetheart come and kiss me. Still. Whew! Girl in Meath street that night. But then you’re in a cart. I feel. and you see she’s on for it: good evening.Ulysses Moonlight silver effulgence. Chap in the Burton 677 of 1305 . Wonderful of course if you say: good evening. Different with me. Parrots. The strength it gives a man. Aho! If you don’t answer when they solicit must be horrible for them till they harden. Maiden discovered with pensive bosom. O. My arks she called it. Lacaus esant taratara. her mouth in the dark! And you a married man with a single girl! That’s what they enjoy. Press the button and the bird will squeak. Or even hear of it. Makes you want to sing after. Otherwise I couldn’t have. Ask them a question they ask you another.

he. Come in. The propitious moment.Ulysses today spitting back gumchewed gristle. Lord mayor had his eye on her too. I dreamt. French letter still in my pocketbook. Pretend to want something awfully. Val Dillon. Ask you do you like mushrooms because she once knew a gentleman who. How they change the venue when it’s not what they like. First thoughts are best. She must have been thinking of someone else all the time. What harm? Must since she came to the use of reason. Molly. Offend her. Featherbed mountain. Or ask you what someone was going to say when he changed his mind and stopped. then cry off for her sake. Mushy like. After Glencree dinner that was when we drove home. But her breasts were developed. But might happen sometime. Then make it up. something like that. Cause of half the trouble. Flatters them. First kiss does the trick. Apoplectic. all is prepared. I don’t think. on the sly. 678 of 1305 . he and he. tell by their eye. say: I want to. She too. Fell asleep then. Remember that till their dying day. Because I did. Fifteen she told me. Gnashing her teeth in sleep. What? Worst is beginning. Yet if I went the whole hog. Something inside them goes pop. lieutenant Mulvey that kissed her under the Moorish wall beside the gardens.

Dressing in mother’s clothes. babies. waiting for something to happen. Up like a rocket. Look under 679 of 1305 . down like a stick. understand all the ways of the world. Would you mind. those lovely seaside girls. In their line. I knew she could whistle. Women never meet one like that Wilkins in the high school drawing a picture of Venus with all his belongings on show. And the children. telling me the right time? I’ll tell you the right time up a dark lane. Like a cat sitting beyond a dog’s jump. It’s the white of the eye brings that out not so much the pupil.Ulysses There she is with them down there for the fireworks. And the dark one with the mop head and the nigger mouth. Say prunes and prisms forty times every morning. Of course they understand birds. Caressing the little boy too. Time enough. Wouldn’t give that satisfaction. animals. clear. Onlookers see most of the game. twins they must be. Call that innocence? Poor idiot! His wife has her work cut out for her. Never see them sit on a bench marked Wet Paint. Want to be grownups. Fine eyes she had. Didn’t look back when she was going down the strand. please. Eyes all over them. Like Molly. Those girls. Did she know what I? Course. Mouth made for that. cure for fat lips. My fireworks. Why that highclass whore in Jammet’s wore her veil only to her nose. those girls.

Ulysses the bed for what’s not there. Me have a nice pace. Sharp as needles they are. Best place for an ad to catch a woman’s eye on a mirror. When I said to Molly the man at the corner of Cuffe street was goodlooking. stretched to breaking point. Had. 680 of 1305 . too. thought she might like. Straight on her pins anyway not like the other. Longing to get the fright of their lives. carrying home the change in her stocking! Clever little minx. mother to daughter. Not like that frump today. Still she was game. Lord. don’t they know! Three years old she was in front of Molly’s dressingtable. Young student. Handed down from father to. O. A. Who did you learn that from? Nobody. E. Mullingar. Something the nurse taught me. I am wet. Neat way she carries parcels too. Transparent stockings. just before we left Lombard street west. And when I sent her for Molly’s Paisley shawl to Prescott’s by the way that ad I must. Where do they get that? Typist going up Roger Greene’s stairs two at a time to show her understandings. I never told her. twigged at once he had a false arm. shaking it. Attract men. Bred in the bone. Holding up her hand. Milly for example drying her handkerchief on the mirror to save the ironing. Who knows? Ways of the world. to let the blood flow back when it was red. I mean. small thing like that. Devil you are. Swell of her calf.

In Hamlet. Your head it simply swirls. Lord! Did me good all the same. Lord! It was all things combined. For this relief much thanks. zrads. Gerty they called her. Instead of talking about nothing. that is. I saw. But the ball rolled down to her as if it understood. Excitement. Off colour after Kiernan’s. White. Her maiden name was Jemina Brown And she lived with her mother in Irishtown. 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. Darling. Might have made a worse fool of myself however. Zrads and zrads.Ulysses Rumpled stockings. Wow! Beef to the heel. She smelt an onion. Dignam’s. I saw all. Still it was a kind of language between us. spluttering in darting crackles. your. Will she? Watch! Watch! See! Looked round. Then I will tell you all. zrads. It couldn’t be? No. A monkey puzzle rocket burst. All tarred with the same brush Wiping pens in their stockings. Place made me think of that I suppose. felt an ache at the butt of my tongue. Or the one in Grafton street. Might be false name however like my name and the address Dolphin’s barn a blind. Every bullet has 681 of 1305 . He’s right. When she leaned back.

Crooked as a ram’s horn. Course I never could throw anything straight at school. Chickens come home to roost.Ulysses its billet. 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. Moorish. monkeys. Then ask in the morning: was I drunk last night? Bad policy however to fault the husband. not even closed at first. Fill it up with wind. whiff of stale boose. Also the form. Husband rolling in drunk. Mrs Beaufoy. They stick by one another like glue. Oughtn’t to have given that child an empty teat to suck. stink of pub off him like a polecat. That young doctor O’Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. No soft job. Worst of all at night Mrs Duggan told me in the City Arms. Purefoy. She used to look over some nights when Molly was in the Coffee Palace. Wonder is nurse Callan there still. marriageable. 682 of 1305 . Children’s hands always round them. Saves them. Must call to the hospital. It’s the blood of the south. That’s where Molly can knock spots off them. And Mrs Breen and Mrs Dignam once like that too. Nature. the figure. Keeps them out of harm’s way. Have that in your nose in the dark. sour milk in their swaddles and tainted curds. Maybe the women’s fault also. Washing child. washing corpse. Dignam. Cocoanut skulls.

Well the foreskin is not back. This wet is very unpleasant. with little hubbies. Chaps that would go to the dogs if some woman didn’t take them in hand. Back of everything magnetism. height of a shilling in coppers. That causes 683 of 1305 .Ulysses Hands felt for the opulent. I remember looking in Pill lane. wouldn’t know what to call her. Then they trot you out some kind of a nondescript. Always see a fellow’s weak point in his wife. Twice nought makes one. Better detach. Long and the short of it. skeleton in the cupboard. Then little chits of girls. Wonder is there any magnetic influence between the person because that was about the time he. Cat’s away. Also that now is magnetism. Just compare for instance those others. at once. falling in love. Marry in May and repent in December. As God made them he matched them. I suppose. Wristwatches are always going wrong. Sometimes children turn out well enough. Very strange about my watch. Still there’s destiny in it. Or old rich chap of seventy and blushing bride. Earth for instance pulling this and being pulled. Wife locked up at home. Yes. Allow me to introduce my. the mice will play. Big he and little she. Stuck. Have their own secrets between them. Ow! Other hand a sixfooter with a wifey up to his watchpocket.

Fine voice that fellow had. Then if one thing stopped the whole ghesabo would stop bit by bit. Keep that thing up for hours. I leave you this to think of me when I’m 684 of 1305 . But lots of them can’t kick the beam. Hm. Fork and steel. Little piece of steel iron. Wonder how is she feeling in that region. legs. When you hold out the fork. look and if you have any guts in you. Same time doing it scraped her slipper on the floor so they wouldn’t hear. Came from the turpentine probably in the paint. Woman and man that is. Smell that I did. well that’s the time the movement takes. And time. Shame all put on before third person. about the farmer in the ridingboots and spurs at the horse show. How Giuglini began. Hm. Come. Molly. her underjaw stuck out. Because it’s all arranged. head back. Molly. look. 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. Make their own use of everything. Why she waved her hand. More put out about a hole in her stocking. Kind of a general all round over me and half down my back. like a sneeze coming. That’s her perfume. Yes. Have to let fly.Ulysses movement. Magnetic needle tells you what’s going on in the sun. I think. Tip. Wait. Tip. And when the painters were in Lombard street west. It was too. he. the stars. Like flowers. Come. Violets.

smell them leagues off. fine like what do you call it gossamer. There or the armpits or under the neck. taking them off. Good conductor. Sweet and cheap: soon sour. Hyacinth? Hm. Her high notes and her low notes. She was wearing her black and it had the perfume of the time before. dance of the hours. Suppose there’s some connection. Wonder where it is really. Tell you what it is. Heat brought it out. Because you get it out 685 of 1305 . Stays. It’s like a fine fine veil or web they have all over the skin. is it? Or bad? Light too. Roses. Bathwater too. What is it? Heliotrope? No. Suits her. For instance if you go into a cellar where it’s dark. I think. Byby till next time. Clings to everything she takes off. Also the cat likes to sniff in her shift on the bed. and they’re always spinning it out of them. Drawers: little kick. Reminds me of strawberries and cream. At the dance night she met him. Vamp of her stockings.Ulysses far away on the pillow. slow but sure. She’d like scent of that kind. fine as anything. Cinghalese this morning. Mysterious thing too. Why Molly likes opoponax. Why did I smell it only now? Took its time in coming like herself. Warm shoe. it is. Know her smell in a thousand. Yes. Because those spice islands. Suppose it’s ever so many millions of tiny grains blown across. like rainbow colours without knowing it. with a little jessamine mixed.

Like what? Potted herrings gone stale or. that’s the soap. Ah no. Hyacinth perfume made of oil of ether or something. O. The tree of forbidden priest. Almonds or. Very well. Some women. thank you. Come near. Women buzz round it like flies round treacle. Dogs at each other behind. Then get a hogo you could hang your hat on. permeates. And it’s extremely curious the smell. Hm. Perhaps they get a man smell off us. Boof! Please keep off the grass. instance. Hm. Evening. That diffuses itself all through the body. Source of life. warn you off when they have their period. I mean. Mr Bloom inserted his nose. will you? Let me be the first to. No. father. Lemons it is. We’re the same. Mansmell. Animals go by that. Let me. Must be connected with that because priests that are supposed to be are different. Good evening. Yes now. One grain pour off odour for years. Opening of his waistcoat. How do you sniff? Hm. Breath? What you eat and drink gives that. Into the. look at it that way. Bag under their tails. Celery sauce. 686 of 1305 .Ulysses of all holes and corners. No. Hm. What though? Cigary gloves long John had on his desk the other day. Muskrat. Railed off the altar get on to it at any cost.

How much do I owe you? Three and nine? Two and nine. Might stop him giving credit another time. So long as women don’t mock what matter? That’s the way to find out. sir. See ourselves as others see us. I knew there was something on my mind. prize titbit story by Mr Leopold Bloom. Pubs do. Still you learn something. Corns on his 687 of 1305 . Walk after him now make him awkward like those newsboys me today. Bad opinion of me he’ll have. Blown in from the bay. Fellows run up a bill on the slate and then slinking around the back streets into somewhere else. Never went back and the soap not paid. I could mention Meagher’s just to remind him.Ulysses O by the by that lotion. Here’s this nobleman passed before. Two and nine. Sure he has a small bank balance somewhere. Looks mangled out: had a good tuck in. And that fellow today at the graveside in the brown macintosh. The Mystery Man on the Beach. Still if he works that paragraph. Always at home at dinnertime. Payment at the rate of one guinea per column. Dislike carrying bottles like that hag this morning. government sit. Call tomorrow. After supper walk a mile. Just went as far as turn back. Enjoying nature now. Ah. Ask yourself who is he now. Grace after meals. Hynes might have paid me that three shillings. Lose your customers that way.

688 of 1305 . Still two types there are you bob against. Also glowworms. Old Betty’s joints are on the rack. Were those nightclouds there all the time? Looks like a phantom ship. cyclists: lightingup time. violet. A star I see. Better now of course than long ago. And distant hills seem coming nigh. Howth. Must be some somewhere. Wait. nine. The body feels the atmosphere. No. My native land. blue. Signs of rain it is. goodnight. When three it’s night. Best time to spray plants too in the shade after the sun. People afraid of the dark. Mother Shipton’s prophecy that is about ships around they fly in the twinkling. No. Some light still. eight. orange. Two. Bailey light. Women. Grace Darling. Has to change or they might think it a house. Light is a kind of reassuring. See. Run you through the small guts for nothing. Salt in the Ormond damp. indigo. Venus? Can’t tell yet. Healthy perhaps absorb all the. Whistle brings rain they say. The royal reader. Jewels diamonds flash better. Wreckers. Not going to hurt you. Two. Scowl or smile. Roygbiv Vance taught us: red. Mirage. Trees are they? An optical illusion. yellow.Ulysses kismet however. Land of the setting sun this. Pardon! Not at all. four. Homerule sun setting in the southeast. six. Red rays are longest. Country roads. green.

I begin to like them at that age. sore on the mouth. Brings on white fluxions. Happy chairs under them. Jerusalem artichokes. Grab at all that offer. Ye crags and peaks I’m with you once again. And now? Sad about her lame of course but must be on your guard not to feel too much pity. They take advantage. avenues under the lamps. The rhododendrons. They feel all that. Might get piles myself. Green apples. Wish I had a full length oilpainting of her then. in ballrooms. Open like flowers. and I the plumstones. The distant hills seem. Nightstock in Mat Dillon’s garden where I kissed her shoulder. Cut with grass or paper worst. Never have little baby then less he was big strong fight his way up through. But it’s the evening influence. dear. sunflowers. Also the library today: those girl graduates. He gets the plums. to sit on that stone.Ulysses Dew falling. Suppose it’s the only time we cross legs. The year returns. All quiet on Howth now. voyage round your own little world. I am a fool perhaps. seated. Where I come in. you don’t know how nice you looked. History repeats itself. Where we. know their hours. Sticks too like a summer cold. Bad for you. love. O sweet little. June that was too I wooed. 689 of 1305 . Friction of the position. Like to be that rock she sat on. Life. chandeliers.

Never again. So it returns. Only once it comes. Eightyseven that was. Louy. Mat Dillon and his bevy of daughters: Tiny. Are you not happy in your? Naughty darling. little wretch. Winkle: cockles and periwinkles. Returning not the same. And the old major. Maimy. Then I did Rip van Winkle coming back. Or hers. All changed. The young are old. His gun rusty from the dew. Hetty. My youth. Longest way round is the shortest way home. She kissed me. Forgotten. Like kids your second visit to a house. partial to his drop of spirits. And just when he and she. Floey. No. Think you’re escaping and run into yourself. Nothing new under the sun. Moorish eyes. Curious she an only child. I an only child. Circus horse walking in a ring. Care of P. Molly too. The new I want. Dolphin’s Barn. Rip: tear in Henny Doyle’s overcoat. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. Lovers: yum yum. Drained all the manhood out of me. Will I get up? O wait. Tired I feel now. Van: breadvan delivering. 690 of 1305 . Names change: that’s all. O. At Dolphin’s barn charades in Luke Doyle’s house. Atty.Ulysses All that old hill has seen. Year before we. Take the train there tomorrow. Rip van Winkle we played. She leaned on the sideboard watching.

They believed you could be changed into a tree from grief. Thinks I’m a tree. Weeping willow. Belfry up there. light or noise? Better sit still. Remember about the mistake in the valuation when I was in Thom’s. Two houses they have. Instance. There he goes. Buy from us. All instinct like the bird in drouth got water out of the end of a jar by throwing in pebbles. Could hear them all at it. Gabriel Conroy’s brother is curate. 691 of 1305 . Again. What frightens them. Mass seems to be over. Ba. Colours depend on the light you see. Funny little beggar. What is that flying about? Swallow? Bat probably. And pray for us. Almost see them shimmering. Hanging by his heels in the odour of sanctity. They’re a mixed breed. I suppose. And buy from us. Ba. Wonder why they come out at night like mice.Ulysses Ba. Stare the sun for example like the eagle then look at a shoe see a blotch blob yellowish. Their frugal meal. Like a little man in a cloak he is with tiny hands. Pray for us. And pray for us. Birds are like hopping mice. Same thing with ads. so blind. Wonder where he lives. Very likely. kind of a bluey white. Weeny bones. Good idea the repetition. Bell scared him out. Twentyeight it is. Wants to stamp his trademark on everything. that cat this morning on the staircase. Have birds no smell? Metempsychosis. Yes. there’s the light in the priest’s house.

That’s how that wise man what’s his name with the burning glass. Who knows what they’re always flying for. Say you never see them with three colours. And says she and says he. pitched about like snuff at a wake when the stormy winds do blow. It can’t be tourists’ matches. Wife in every port they say. bloody curse to you! Others in vessels. Ba. Howth a while ago amethyst. Lots must be killed in storms. Birds too. Sometimes away for years at the ends of the earth somewhere. Or broken bottles in the furze act as a burning glass in the sun. What? Perhaps the sticks dry rub together in the wind and light.Ulysses Colour of brown turf. Archimedes. Might be the one bit me. Like our small talk. come back to see. I have it! My memory’s not so bad. Or what they say. Glass flashing. Dreadful life sailors have too. Nerve they have to fly over the ocean and back. No ends really because it’s round. Married too. Faugh a Ballagh! Out of that. Never find out. Then the heather goes on fire. Not true. She 692 of 1305 . bit of a handkerchief sail. Body fifty different colours. That half tabbywhite tortoiseshell in the City Arms with the letter em on her forehead. Insects? That bee last week got into the room playing with his shadow on the ceiling. lowing out like seacows. Big brutes of oceangoing steamers floundering along in the dark. telegraph wires.

Davy Jones’ locker. old cockalorum. drooping. And the tephilim no what’s this they call it poor papa’s father had on his door to touch. went the nine o’clock postman. moon looking down so peaceful. If ever he does. Do fish ever get seasick? Then you have a beautiful calm without a cloud. crew and cargo in smithereens. Hanging on to a plank or astride of a beam for grim life. Well. From house to house. How can they like the sea? Yet they do. Something in all those superstitions because when you go out never know what dangers. They floated. Not my fault. placid. And 693 of 1305 . fell: they faded. Smelling the tail end of ports. smooth sea. and shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. A last lonely candle wandered up the sky from Mirus bazaar in search of funds for Mercer’s hospital and broke. gulping salt water. giving his everwelcome double knock. Off he sails with a scapular or a medal on him for luck. the glowworm’s lamp at his belt gleaming here and there through the laurel hedges. and that’s the last of his nibs till the sharks catch hold of him. That brought us out of the land of Egypt and into the house of bondage.Ulysses has a good job if she minds it till Johnny comes marching home again. The anchor’s weighed. lifebelt round him. The shepherd’s hour: the hour of folding: hour of tryst.

Howth settled for slumber. And far on Kish bank the anchored lightship twinkled. deep and slowly breathing. wailing: Evening Telegraph. Irish Lights board. stop press edition! Result of the Gold Cup race! and from the door of Dignam’s house a boy ran out and called. By screens of lighted windows. ruffle his fell of ferns. Filthy trip. fear of God in their faces. grey. winked at Mr Bloom. Far out over the sands the coming surf crept. I 694 of 1305 . stuck in the same spot. When we hid behind the tree at Crumlin. Day we went out for the pleasure cruise in the Erin’s King. by equal gardens a shrill voice went crying. Coastguards too. Rocket and breeches buoy and lifeboat. Drunkards out to shake up their livers. slumberous but awake. Her blue scarf loose. Nausea. throwing them the sack of old papers. of yumyum rhododendrons (he was old) and felt gladly the night breeze lift. And the women. And then their stomachs clean. Bears in the zoo. Milly. laughing. Life those chaps out there must have. Puking overboard to feed the herrings.Ulysses among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp at Leahy’s terrace. Penance for their sins. He lay but opened a red eye unsleeping. tired of long days. flew there. no sign of funk. But being lost they fear. Don’t know what death is at that age. Twittering the bat flew here.

What do they love? Another themselves? But the morning she chased her with the umbrella. I think. I’ll murder you. I always thought I’d marry a lord or a rich 695 of 1305 . Made me laugh to see. Calomel purge I got her for that. Ticking. Poor child! Strange moment for the mother too. Nearer the heart? Padding themselves out if fat is in fashion. Evening like this. Her growing pains at night. Old Barbary ape that gobbled all his family. Left one is more sensitive. gunfire for the men to cross the lines. Sundown. Her first stays I remember. Whole earnest. Little hand it was: now big. Poor kids! Only troubles wildfire and nettlerash. Perhaps so as not to hurt. All that the hand says when you touch. Mine too. Brings back her girlhood. Dearest Papli. I felt her pulse. How can people aim guns at each other. wakening me. After getting better asleep with Molly. The seabirds screaming. Little paps to begin with. Mamma! Mamma! Babes in the wood. Is it only half fun? Or children playing battle. no clouds. but clear. Looking out over the sea she told me. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. Sometimes they go off. Very same teeth she has. calling. Throwing them up in the air to catch them. Frightened she was when her nature came on her first. Frightening them with masks too. Looking from Buena Vista. Gibraltar. O’Hara’s tower.Ulysses didn’t want to.

Go home. house of Keyes. Must be getting on for nine by the light. funeral. No. Buenas noches. Might be still up. Particularly nice old party for a cup of tea. 696 of 1305 . Drunken ranters what I said about his God made him wince. señorita. Everyone to his taste as Morris said when he kissed the cow. Not so bad then. Martha. Better not stick here all night like a limpet. three fangs in her mouth. Imagine that in the early morning at close range. The sister of the wife of the wild man of Borneo has just come to town. Why me? Because you were so foreign from the others. Look at it other way round. El hombre ama la muchacha hermosa. Got my own back there. Or? No. Three cheers for Israel. But Dignam’s put the boots on it. Hope she’s over. Lily of Killarney. Too late for Leah. Dedalus’ song. Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. This weather makes you dull. Long day I’ve had. Perhaps not to hurt he meant. Afraid to be alone like a child of two. Houses of mourning so depressing because you never know. Mistake to hit back. Same style of beauty. museum with those goddesses. Suppose he hit me. Then that bawler in Barney Kiernan’s. Three cheers for the sister-in-law he hawked about. Always want to be swilling in company. the bath. Call to the hospital to see.Ulysses gentleman coming with a private yacht.

That widow on Monday was it outside Cramer’s that looked at me. Work Hynes and Crawford. The sewage. Something confused. Dreamt last night? Wait. Takes it for granted we’re going to pop off first. Her widow’s mite. loved for ever. She has something to put in them. Turkish. Widower I hate to see. Also a shop often noticed. 697 of 1305 . Poor man O’Connor wife and five children poisoned by mussels here. three shillings a pair. Mailboat. Suppose she does? Would I like her in pyjamas? Damned hard to answer. not me. Ladies’ grey flannelette bloomers. platter face and a large apron. Curse seems to dog it. She had red slippers on.Ulysses Anyhow she wants the money. Wore the breeches. Take him in tow. Hopeless. See him sometimes walking about trying to find out who played the trick. Love. Plain and loved. astonishing bargain. Well? What do you expect her to do? Must wheedle her way along. lie and be handsome for tomorrow we die. Buried the poor husband but progressing favourably on the premium. He. Must call to those Scottish Widows as I promised. Nannetti’s gone. p: up. U. Near Holyhead by now. What’s that? Might be money. Fate that is. they say. Petticoats for Molly. Looks so forlorn. Ugly: no woman thinks she is. Must nail that ad of Keyes’s. Some good matronly woman in a porkpie hat to mother him. Strange name.

Better go. Tide comes here. dark mirror. Might remain. Who could count them? Never know what you find. I’m tired to move. Not so young now. see my face there. Better. I called you naughty boy because I do not like. What? I Some flatfoot tramp on it in the morning. breathe on it. A. No room. Will she come here tomorrow? Wait for her somewhere for ever. Letter? No.Ulysses Mr Bloom stooped and turned over a piece of paper on the strand. those transparent! Besides they don’t know. O. Washed away. thrown from a wreck. Parcels post. Saw a pool near her foot. Let it go. Useless. Children always want to throw things in the sea. Can’t read. Bottle with story of a treasure in it. What’s this? Bit of stick. Will I? Mr Bloom with his stick gently vexed the thick sand at his foot. O! Exhausted that female has me. AM. Murderers do. Must come back. Trust? Bread cast on the waters. 698 of 1305 . Write a message for her. Page of an old copybook. Bend. All these rocks with lines and scars and letters. stirs. What is the meaning of that other world. All those holes and pebbles. He brought it near his eyes and peered.

I won’t go.Ulysses Mr Bloom effaced the letters with his slow boot. He flung his wooden pen away. Now if you were trying to do that for a week on end you couldn’t. 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 señorita young eyes Mulvey plump bubs me breadvan Winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed 699 of 1305 . All fades. It never comes the same. Made me feel so young. Bat again. No fear of big vessels coming up here. stuck. Half dream. Thanks. Must be near nine. Just close my eyes a moment. Short snooze now if I had. We’ll never meet again. Round the Kish in eighty days. Hopeless thing sand. Let him. Race there. But it was lovely. Chance. Nothing grows in it. Won’t sleep. Did too. race back to Ennis. Liverpool boat long gone. The stick fell in silted sand. No harm in him. And she can do the other. Just a few. though. Done half by design. dear. And Belfast. Goodbye. Except Guinness’s barges.. Not even the smoke.

Just for a few Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo. leaned. A bat flew. Mr Bloom with open mouth. 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 that. his left boot sanded sideways. was Gerty MacDowell. Here. Far in the grey a bell chimed. 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. and she noticed at once that that foreign gentleman that was sitting on the rocks looking was 700 of 1305 . There. Here. were taking tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup and talking about Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo.Ulysses me her next year in drawers return next in her next her next. breathed.

light one. Deshil Holles Eamus. Send us bright one. quickening and wombfruit. Horhorn. Horhorn. 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 701 of 1305 . Send us bright one. Deshil Holles Eamus. Horhorn. light one. quickening and wombfruit.Ulysses Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo. light one. ***** Deshil Holles Eamus. quickening and wombfruit. Send us bright one.

Ulysses 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? 702 of 1305 .

sweating chambers. 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. as the best historians relate. their greatest doctors. To her nothing already then and thenceforward was anyway able to be molestful for this chiefly felt all citizens 703 of 1305 . the art of medicine shall have been highly honoured. who nothing that was not in its nature admirable admired. leperyards. have 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. plaguegraves. the O’Lees. the O’Hickeys. Not to speak of hostels.Ulysses It is not why therefore we shall wonder if. the O’Shiels. among the Celts.

divine and human. parturient in vehicle thereward carrying desire immense among all one another was impelling on of her to be received into that domicile. cleanest 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. when the case was so hoving itself. Whatever in that one case done commodiously done was. ostensibly 704 of 1305 .Ulysses except with proliferent mothers prosperity at all not to can be and as they had received eternity gods mortals generation to befit them her beholding. A couch by midwives attended with wholesome food reposeful. Within womb won he worship. the cogitation of which by sejunct females is to tumescence conducive or eases issue in the high sunbright wellbuilt fair home of mothers when. that she by them suddenly to be about to be cherished had been begun she felt! Before born bliss babe had. 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 mother.

Smarts they still. Truest bedthanes they twain are. On her stow he ere was living with dear wife and lovesome daughter that then over land and seafloor nine 705 of 1305 . Of that house A. Stark ruth of man his errand that him lone led till that house. white sisters in ward sleepless. That man her will wotting worthful went in Horne’s house. Christ’s rood made she on breastbone and him drew that he would rathe infare under her thatch. sickness soothing: in twelve moons thrice an hundred. 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. Of Israel’s folk was that man that on earth wandering far had fared. Some man that wayfaring was stood by housedoor at night’s oncoming.Ulysses far gone and reproductitive. In ward wary the watcher hearing come that man mildhearted eft rising with swire ywimpled to him her gate wide undid. Watchers tway there walk. her term up. it is come by her thereto to lie in. Horne is lord. for Horne holding wariest ward. Lo. Full she drad that God the Wreaker all mankind would fordo with water for his evil sins. levin leaping lightens in eyeblink Ireland’s westward welkin. Loth to irk in Horne’s hall hat holding the seeker stood.

All she there told him. Sad was the man that word to hear that him so heavied in bowels ruthful. She said that he had a fair sweet death through God His goodness with masspriest to be shriven. So stood they there both awhile in wanhope sorrowing one with other. ruing death for friend so young. 706 of 1305 . Her to forgive now he craved with good ground of her allowed that that of him swiftseen face. 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. As her eyes then ongot his weeds swart therefor sorrow she feared. bloom of blushes his word winning. Once her in townhithe meeting he to her bow had not doffed. 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. Glad after she was that ere adread was. algate sore unwilling God’s rightwiseness to withsay. hers. holy housel and sick men’s oil to his limbs. Light swift her eyes kindled. in held hat sad staring. He heard her sad words.Ulysses years had long outwandered. so young then had looked.

She said thereto that she had seen many births of women but never was none so hard as was that woman’s birth.Ulysses Therefore. Then she set it all forth to him for because she knew the man that time was had lived nigh that house. 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. 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. And there came against the place as they stood a young learningknight yclept Dixon. everyman. And the 707 of 1305 . look 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 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. 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. Nine twelve bloodflows chiding her childless.

And the traveller Leopold said that he should go otherwhither for he was a man of cautels and a subtile. And he said now that he should go in to that castle for to make merry with them that were there. 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 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 on this board were frightful swords 708 of 1305 .Ulysses 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. 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. 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.

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 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 the learning knight let pour for childe Leopold a draught and halp thereto the while all they that were there drank every each. 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.Ulysses 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 childe Leopold did up his beaver 709 of 1305 . And full fair cheer and rich was on the board that no wight could devise a fuller ne richer. 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.

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 child. said he. 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. that it be not come or now. Now drink. whose time hied fast. fully 710 of 1305 . But. Thanked be Almighty God. Also he took the cup that stood tofore him for him needed never none asking nor desiring of him to drink and. Expecting each moment to be her next. Meseems it dureth overlong. a gentle dame. Sir Leopold heard on the upfloor cry on high and he wondered what cry that it was whether of child or woman and I marvel. said he. And the franklin that had drunken said. And he sat down in that castle with them for to rest him there awhile. or it be long too she will bring forth by God His bounty and have joy of her childing for she hath waited marvellous long.Ulysses 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. said he.

Now let us speak of that fellowship that was there to the intent to be drunken an they might. Dixon yclept junior of saint Mary Merciable’s with other his fellows Lynch and Madden. scholars of medicine. and 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 them. There was a sort of scholars along either side the board. and the franklin that hight Lenehan and one from Alba Longa. And sir Leopold sat with them for he bore fast friendship to sir Simon and to this his son young Stephen and for 711 of 1305 . one Crotthers. 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.Ulysses delectably. he was the most drunken that demanded still of more mead) and beside the meek sir Leopold. and he quaffed as far as he might to their both’s health for he was a passing good man of his lustiness. that is to wit. 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. reserved young Stephen. Woman’s woe with wonder pondering.

This was scant said but all cried with one acclaim nay. young 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). In colour whereof they waxed hot upon that head what with argument and what for their 712 of 1305 . And he heard their aresouns each gen other as touching birth and righteousness. And they said farther she should live because in the beginning. 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. For they were right witty scholars. loth to leave.Ulysses that his languor becalmed him there after longest wanderings insomuch as they feasted him for that time in the honourablest manner. the wife should live and the babe to die. by our Virgin Mother. they said. Ruth red him. love led on with will to wander. the 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.

is eke oft among lay folk. To whom young Stephen had these words following: Murmur. But. which is the sin against the Holy Ghost. 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. gramercy. Both babe and parent now glorify their Maker. pricked forward with their jibes wherewith 713 of 1305 . sirs. our lust is brief. sirs. the other in purgefire. Lord and Giver of Life? For. the other all this while.Ulysses drinking but the franklin Lenehan was prompt each when to pour them ale so that at the least way mirth might not lack. 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. Very God. the one in limbo gloom. what of those Godpossibled souls that we nightly impossibilise. he said. 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 horn.

A wariness of mind he 714 of 1305 . as Virgilius saith. witnessing all and several by saint Foutinus his engines that he was able to do any manner of thing that lay in man to do. patron of abortions. by 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.Ulysses they did malice him. Then spake young Stephen orgulous of mother Church that would cast him out of her bosom. 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 seal. All they bachelors then asked of sir Leopold would he in like case so jeopard her person as risk life to save life. effectu secuto. or peradventure in her bath according to the opinions of Averroes and Moses Maimonides. 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. of Lilith. of bigness wrought by wind of seeds of brightness or by potency of vampires mouth to mouth or. even that blessed Peter on which rock was holy church for all ages founded. of law of canons.

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. lest 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 715 of 1305 . who had ever loved the art of physic as might a layman.Ulysses would answer as fitted all and. And she was wondrous stricken of heart for that evil hap and for his burial did him on a fair corselet of lamb’s wool. and 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. the flower of the flock. that as it was informed him. 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. laying hand to jaw. as his wont was. pardy. a pregnant word. and. said Dixon. That is truth. he said dissembling. or I err.

quod he.Ulysses 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. His words were then these as followeth: Know all men. 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 who. he said. They all admired to see the foresaid riches in such dearth of money as was herebefore. Be not afeard neither for any want for this will comfort more than the other will dismay. he gave them for a pledge the vicar of Christ which also as he said is vicar of Bray. time’s ruins build eternity’s mansions. of this mazer and quaff ye this mead which is not indeed parcel of my body but my soul’s bodiment. praying for the intentions of the sovereign pontiff. Leave ye fraction of bread to them that live by bread alone. he said. See ye here. Now drink we. for a song which he writ. And he showed them glistering coins of the tribute and goldsmith notes the worth of two pound nineteen shilling that he had. What means this? Desire’s wind blasts the thorntree but after it becomes from a bramblebush to be a 716 of 1305 .

that second I say. a body 717 of 1305 . parceque M. an almightiness of petition because she is the second Eve and she won us. that is to wit. No question but her name is puissant who aventried the dear corse of our Agenbuyer. or 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 marriages. figlia di tuo figlio. Healer and Herd. our mighty mother and mother most venerable and Bernardus saith aptly that She hath an omnipotentiam deiparae supplicem. which we are linked up with by successive anastomosis of navelcords sold us all. a birth without pangs. Or she knew him. Mark me now. and was but creature of her creature. And all cried out upon it for a very scurvy word. Omnis caro ad te veniet. vergine madre.Ulysses rose upon the rood of time. Léo Taxil nous a dit que qui l’avait mise dans cette fichue position c’était le sacre pigeon. 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. for a penny pippin. our grandam. But here is the matter now. saith Augustine too. he said. This is the postcreation. A pregnancy without joy. breed and generation. ventre de Dieu! Entweder transubstantiality ODER consubstantiality but in no case subsubstantiality. seed. whereas that other.

thou abortion thou. withsay. nor 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 him.Ulysses without blemish. With will will we withstand. a murrain seize the dolt. thou puny. thou spawn of a rebel. thou dykedropt. in habit dun beseeming her megrims and wrinkled visage. when 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. the 718 of 1305 . thou chitterling. It was an ancient and a sad matron of a sedate look and christian walking. 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 well. a belly without bigness. to shut up his drunken drool out of that like a curse of God ape. thou losel. thou chuff. Staboo. thou got in peasestraw. Let the lewd with faith and fervour worship. what a devil he would be at.

as the priests use in Madagascar island. with burning of nard and tapers. He gave them then a much admirable hymen 719 of 1305 . advising also the time’s occasion as most sacred and most worthy to be most sacred. she to be in guise of white and saffron. To be short this passage was scarce by when Master Dixon of Mary in Eccles. goodly grinning. chastity in the tomb but involuntary poverty all his days.Ulysses good sir Leopold that had for his cognisance the flower of quiet. asked young Stephen what was the reason why he had not cided to take friar’s vows and he answered him obedience in the womb. waxing merry and toasting to his fathership. In Horne’s house rest should reign. on a bridebed while clerks sung kyries and the anthem Ut novetur sexus omnis corporis mysterium till she was there unmaided. Thereat mirth grew in them the more and they rehearsed to him his curious rite of wedlock for the disrobing and deflowering of spouses. he had besmirched the lily virtue of a confiding female which was corruption of minors and they all intershowed it too. as he heard hereof counted. her groom in white and grain. Master Lenehan at this made return that he had heard of those nefarious deeds and how. But he said very entirely it was clean contrary to their suppose for he was the eternal son and ever virgin. margerain gentle.

but. Amen. 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. pro memetipso. Greater love than this. fratres. 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. no man hath that a man lay down his wife for his friend. young sir. saith Zarathustra. of such a mingling much might come. Remember. Go thou and do likewise. joyed.Ulysses 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 bed. And all the people shall say. Thus. by my troth. he said. Orate. or words to that effect. better were they named Beau Mount and Lecher for. Bring a stranger within thy tower it will go hard but thou wilt have the secondbest bed. 720 of 1305 . to bed was the burden of it to be played with accompanable concent upon the virginals. said Master Dixon. harkee. Well met they were. sometime regius professor of French letters to the university of Oxtail nor breathed there ever that man to whom mankind was more beholden.

hath 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. But thou hast suckled me with a bitter milk: my moon and my sun thou hast quenched for ever. This tenebrosity of the interior.Ulysses Erin. O Milesian. how 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. Clan Milly: forget me not. even from Horeb and from Nebo and from Pisgah and from the Horns of Hatten unto a land flowing with milk and money. Assuefaction minorates atrocities (as Tully saith of his darling Stoics) and Hamlet his father showeth the prince no blister of combustion. to be the slave of servants. upon the land of behest. 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 now. he proceeded to say. 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. Return. thy generations and thy days of old. my people. Therefore hast thou sinned against my light and hast made me. thy lord. return. The 721 of 1305 .

the crystal palace of the Creator.Ulysses 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. sport. sunder. clip. that 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. And as the ends and ultimates of all things accord in some mean and measure with their inceptions and originals. lo. dwindle. an occulted sepulchre amid the conclamation of the hillcat and the ossifrage. all in applepie order. 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. a bed of fasciated wattles: at last the cavity of a mountain. batten. 722 of 1305 . among bulrushes. Thereto Punch Costello roared out mainly Etienne chanson but he loudly bid them. The aged sisters draw us into life: we wail. saved from waters of old Nile. die: over us dead they bend. a penny for him who finds the pea. this vast majestic longstablished vault. First. clasp. wisdom hath built herself a house.

Ulysses Behold the mansion reared by dedal Jack See the malt stored in many a refluent sack. 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. 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. bawled back. In the proud cirque of Jackjohn’s bivouac. And Master Lynch bade him have a care to flout and witwanton as the god self was angered for his hellprate and paganry. being godly certain whiles. alack. A black crack of noise in the street here. 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 Madden. Came now the storm that hist his heart. 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. knocked him on his ribs upon that crack of doom 723 of 1305 . But this was only to dye his desperation as cowed he crouched in Horne’s hall. Loud on left Thor thundered: in anger awful the hammerhurler.

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. But was young Boasthard’s fear vanquished by Calmer’s words? No. and all of the order of a natural phenomenon. at the braggart’s side. he could not but hear unless he had plugged him up the tube Understanding (which he had not done). 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. advertising how it was no other thing but a hubbub noise that he heard. 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 724 of 1305 . Heard he then in that clap the voice of the god Bringforth or. the discharge of fluid from the thunderhead. spoke to him calming words to slumber his great fear. a hubbub of Phenomenon? Heard? Why. 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. having taken place. what Calmer said.Ulysses and Master Bloom. look you.

is Bird-in-the-Hand and she beguiled him wrongways from the true path by her flatteries that she said to him as. Two-in-the-Bush whither she ticed them was the very goodliest grot and in it were four 725 of 1305 . Pious 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 name. that 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? Yes. 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 plagues. turn aside hither and I will show you a brave place. first.Ulysses Law. by some learned. and she lay at him so flatteringly that she had him in her grot which is named Two-in-the-Bush or. she said. you pretty man. Ho. For regarding Believe-on-Me they said it was nought else but notion and they could conceive no thought of it for. monsters and a wicked devil) they would strain the last but they would make at her and know her. Then wotted he nought of that other land which is called Believe-on-Me. Carnal Concupiscence.

So Thursday sixteenth June Patk. fields athirst. O wretched company. were 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 were they all in their blind fancy. Mr Ape Swillale. the quags and tofts too. second. The rosy buds all gone brown 726 of 1305 . Mr Cavil and Mr Sometimes Godly. that they might take no hurt neither from Offspring that was that wicked devil by virtue of this same shield which was named Killchild. for that foul plague Allpox and the monsters they cared not for them for Preservative had given them a stout shield of oxengut and.Ulysses pillows on which were four tickets with these words printed on them. very sadcoloured and stunk mightily. Dignam laid in clay of an apoplexy and after hard drought. Pickaback and Topsyturvy and Shameface and Cheek by Jowl and. Young Boasthard and Mr Cautious Calmer. Wherein. Hard to breathe and all the young quicks clean consumed without sprinkle this long while back as no man remembered to be without. Mr False Franklin. please God. Mr Dainty Dixon. third. a bargeman coming in by water a fifty mile or thereabout with turf saying the seed won’t sprout. rained.

one great stroke with a long thunder and in a brace of shakes all scamper pellmell within door for the smoking shower. But by and by. thence 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. Duke’s lawn. as said. the big wind of last February a year that did havoc the land so pitifully a small thing beside this barrenness. Baggot street. past ten of the clock. for aught they knew. the men making shelter for their straws with a clout or kerchief. In Ely place. Mr Justice Fitzgibbon’s door (that is to sit with Mr Healy the lawyer upon the college lands) Mal.Ulysses and spread out blobs and on the hills nought but dry flag and faggots that would catch at first fire. Over against the Rt. All the world saying. womenfolk skipping off with kirtles catched up soon as the pour came. biggish swollen clouds to be seen as the night increased and the weatherwise poring up at them and some sheet lightnings at first and after. the wind sitting in the west. this evening after sundown. Bannon in a cut bob (which are now in with dance cloaks of Kendal green) that 727 of 1305 . Mulligan a gentleman’s gentleman that had but come from Mr Moore’s the writer’s (that was a papish but is now. Hon. a good Williamite) chanced against Alec. folk say.

scholar of my lady of Mercy’s. but God give her soon issue. they say. Lenehan. be 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. and Lady day bit off her last chick’s nails that was then a 728 of 1305 . but would tell him of a skittish heifer. that got in through pleading her belly. T. There Leop. Madden. 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 knocks. likely brangling fellows. Lynch. Will. Bloom of Crawford’s journal sitting snug with a covey of wags. Vin.Ulysses 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 there.. two days past her term. Leop. very sad about a racer he fancied and Stephen D. he bound home and he to Andrew Horne’s being stayed for to crush a cup of wine. ‘Tis her ninth chick to live. a Scots fellow. and now on the stools. so he said. poor body. big of her age and beef to the heel. Dixon jun. Bloom there for a languor he had but was now better. the midwives sore put to it and can’t deliver. I hear. and all this while poured with rain and so both together on to Horne’s.

Ulysses twelvemonth and with other three all breastfed that died written out in a fair hand in the king’s bible. 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. I hear. 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 bag. He was a kind of sport gentleman that went for a merryandrew or honest pickle and what belonged of women. horseflesh or hot scandal he 729 of 1305 .

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 tongue. To tell the truth he was mean in fortunes and for the most part hankered about the coffeehouses and low taverns with crimps. The other. Mort aux vaches. But they can go hang. some randy quip he had from a punk or whatnot that every mother’s son of them would burst their sides. he says. Frank (that was his name). Costello that is. hearing this talk asked was it poetry or a tale. Faith. for me with their bully beef. Paul’s men. 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. runners. 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.Ulysses had it pat. waistcoateers. says he with a wink. bookies. flatcaps. no. a pox on it. ostlers. ‘tis all about Kerry cows that are to be butchered along of the plague. says Frank then in the French language that had been indentured to a brandyshipper that has a winelodge in Bordeaux and he 730 of 1305 .

And he had experience of the like brood beasts and of springers. that was earnest to know the drift of it. greasy hoggets and wether wool. I can scarce believe ‘tis so bad. From a child this Frank had been a donought that his father. says he. kidnapping a squire’s heir by favour of moonlight or fecking maids’ linen or choking chicken behind a hedge. having been some years before actuary for Mr Joseph Cuffe. says he.Ulysses spoke French like a gentleman too. will they slaughter all? I protest I saw them but this day morning going to the Liverpool boats. then he was for the ocean sea or to hoof it on the roads with the romany folk. who could ill keep him to school to learn his letters and the use of the globes. What. a headborough. says Mr Leopold with his hands across. One time he would be a playactor. then nought would keep him from the bearpit and the cocking main. 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. then a sutler or a welsher. a worthy salesmaster that drove his trade for live stock and meadow auctions hard by Mr Gavin 731 of 1305 . matriculated 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.

says he. an Irish bull in an English chinashop. What for that. says Mr Stephen. and a bullseye into the bargain. says he. Mr Stephen. says he.Ulysses Low’s yard in Prussia street. with a bolus or two of physic to take the bull by the horns. says Mr Dixon. He’ll find himself on the horns of a dilemma if he meddles with a bull that’s Irish. plain dealing. but before he came over farmer Nicholas that was a eunuch had him properly gelded by a college of 732 of 1305 . and he sent the ale purling about. that was sending over Doctor Rinderpest. followed after him hanging his bulliness in daisychains. Irish by name and irish by nature. I question with you there. says he. the bravest cattlebreeder of them all. a 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 hospitality. He had horns galore. a coat of cloth of gold and a sweet smoky breath coming out of his nostrils so that the women of our island. says Mr Vincent cross the table. More like ‘tis the hoose or the timber tongue. It is that same bull that was sent to our island by farmer Nicholas. and a plumper and a portlier bull. come. says Mr Vincent. True for you. says Mr Dixon. with an emerald ring in his nose. Come. the bestquoted cowcatcher in all Muscovy. leaving doughballs and rollingpins. never shit on shamrock. I conceive you.

and do all my cousin german the lord Harry tells you and take a farmer’s blessing. in 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.Ulysses doctors who were no better off than himself. and with that he slapped his posteriors very soundly. says he. Another then put in his word: And they dressed him. But the slap and the blessing stood him friend. for to make up he taught him a trick worth two of the other so that maid. 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. By this time the father of the faithful (for so they called him) was grown so heavy that he could scarce walk to pasture. wife. says Mr Vincent. So be off now. abbess 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. says he. 733 of 1305 .

and 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. I’ll make that animal smell hell. But one evening. says another. And. says he. when 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 734 of 1305 . saying: By the Lord Harry. says Mr Dixon. says Mr Dixon. says he. if 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. with the help of that good pizzle my father left me. There was bad blood between them at first. Green is the grass that grows on the ground. says Mr Vincent.Ulysses Ay. and 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.

After that. sprang their luff. Bos Bovum. let the bullgine run. Then. set all masts erect. the 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. gave three times three. loaded themselves and their bundles of chattels on shipboard. says Mr Stephen. heaved to. and the end was that the men of the island seeing no help was toward. as the ungrate women were all of one mind. the side of a rock or a teahouse table or a bale of cotton or a corkfloat. he 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 fancy. he and the bull of Ireland were soon as fast friends as an arse and a shirt. made a wherry raft. ran up the jolly Roger. weighed anchor. put her head between wind and water. manned the yards. spread three sheets in the wind. ported her helm. They were. with the water running off him. In short.Ulysses that he was a lefthanded descendant of the famous champion bull of the Romans. pushed off in their 735 of 1305 . says Mr Vincent. which is good bog Latin for boss of the show.

of the composing by a boatswain of that rollicking chanty: —Pope Peter’s but a pissabed. says Mr Vincent. 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. 736 of 1305 . 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. 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 rencountered. was 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. as he went on to expound. Which was the occasion. his name Alec Bannon. who had late come to town. Well.Ulysses bumboat and put to sea to recover the main of America. a young gentleman. His project. A man’s a man for a’ that. it being his intention to buy a colour or a cornetcy in the fencibles and list for the wars. Lambay Island. Fertiliser and Incubator.

‘Tis as cheap sitting as standing. both. lord Talbot de Malahide. who 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 happiness. said Mr Dixon. Come. expatiating upon his design. he had resolved to purchase in fee simple for ever the freehold of Lambay island from its holder. a prey to the vilest bonzes. It grieved him plaguily. To curb this inconvenient (which he concluded due to a suppression of latent heat). told his hearers that he had been led into this thought by a consideration of the causes of sterility. Mr Mulligan accepted of the invitation and. sacrificing the inestimable jewel of their sex when a hundred pretty fellows were at hand to caress. made his heart weep. whether 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. he assured them. having advised with certain counsellors of worth and inspected into this matter. both the inhibitory and the prohibitory. to see the nuptial couch defrauded of its dearest pledges: and to reflect upon so many agreeable females with rich jointures.Ulysses let us hear of it. he said. be seated. a 737 of 1305 . this. I make no doubt it smacks of wenching. good my friend.

both broiled and stewed with a blade of mace and a pod or two of capsicum chillies. it seems. would find in him their man. as might be observed by Mr Mulligan’s smallclothes of a hodden grey which was now somewhat piebald. The poorest kitchenwench no less than the opulent lady of fashion. They both. the flesh of these latter prolific rodents being highly recommended for his purpose. he said. nor would he take a penny for his pains. 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. For his nutriment he shewed how he would feed himself exclusively upon a diet of savoury tubercles and fish and coneys there. if so be their constructions and their tempers were warm persuaders for their petitions. His project meanwhile 738 of 1305 . 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. had been overtaken by the rain and for all their mending their pace had taken water.Ulysses Tory gentleman of note much in favour with our ascendancy party. Money was no object.

the buck and doe of the forest glade. as it dwelt upon his memory. could not forbear to tell it his nearest neighbour. now perceiving the table. Valuing himself not a little upon his elegance. asked for whom were those loaves and fishes and. while for those of ruder wit he drove home his point by analogies of the animal kingdom more suitable to their stomach. O quirites. Mr Mulligan.Ulysses was very favourably entertained by his auditors and won hearty eulogies from all though Mr Dixon of Mary’s excepted to it. this 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 gentleman. ut matresfamiliarum nostrae lascivas cujuslibet semiviri libici titillationes testibus ponderosis atque excelsis erectionibus centurionum Romanorum magnopere anteponunt. he made him a civil 739 of 1305 . seemed to him a sound and tasteful support of his contention: Talis ac tanta depravatio hujus seculi. seeing the stranger. being indeed a proper man of person. the farmyard drake and duck. asking 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 which. his friend. overjoyed as he was at a passage that had late befallen him.

Mr Dixon. as with the noted physician. that was in an interesting condition. 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. was you in need of any professional assistance we could give? Who. thanked him very heartily. and replied that he was come there about a lady. Pray. sir. poor body. though preserving his proper distance. betokened an ovoblastic gestation in the prostatic utricle or male womb or was due. from woman’s woe (and here he fetched a deep sigh) to know if her happiness had yet taken place. a little fume of a fellow. smote himself bravely below the diaphragm. For answer Mr Mulligan. now an inmate of Horne’s house. to a wolf in the stomach. blond as tow. upon his offer. Mr Austin Meldon. to turn the table. upon which he rallied him. The spry rattle had run on in the same vein of mimicry but for some larum in the antechamber. exclaiming 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. Here the listener who was none other than the Scotch student. in a gale of laughter at his smalls. 740 of 1305 . took on to ask of Mr Mulligan himself whether his incipient ventripotence.Ulysses bow and said.

noble stranger. opening his bosom. slicked his hair and. 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. said he cheerily. out popped a locket that hung from a silk riband. et mille compliments. Mais bien sûr.Ulysses congratulated in the liveliest fashion with the young gentleman and. had you but beheld her as I did with 741 of 1305 . Ah. interrupting the narrative at a salient point. With these words he approached the goblet to his lips. There wanted nothing but this cup to crown my felicity. Gazing upon those features with a world of tenderness. he said. But. was I left with but a crust in my wallet and a cupful of water from the well. That you may and very opportunely. Monsieur. my God. I 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. took a complacent draught of the cordial. gracious heaven. that very picture which he had cherished ever since her hand had wrote therein.

how great and universal must be that sweetest of Thy tyrannies which can hold in thrall the free and the bond. ‘pon my conscience. How mingled and imperfect are all our sublunary joys. the lover in the heyday of reckless passion and the husband of maturer years. Maledicity! he exclaimed in anguish. he cried. having replaced the locket in his bosom. clapping hand to his forehead.Ulysses 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 disorder. even you. But indeed. A sigh of affection gave eloquence to these words and. I thank thee. Beneficent Disseminator of blessings to all Thy creatures. Monsieur. tomorrow 742 of 1305 . the simple swain and the polished coxcomb. sir. God. Would to God that foresight had but remembered me to take my cloak along! I could weep to think of it. he wiped his eye and sighed again. though it had poured seven showers. But beshrew me. I wander from the point. I declare. I was never so touched in all my life. of so melting a tenderness. had been impelled by generous nature to deliver yourself wholly into the hands of such an enemy or to quit the field for ever. Then. as the Author of my days! Thrice happy will he be whom so amiable a creature will bless with her favours. we were neither of us a penny the worse.

dame Nature. in other circumstances a breach of the proprieties. is worth ten such stopgaps. has sent more than one luckless fellow in good earnest posthaste to another world. ventre biche. A drenching of that violence. even the stoutest cloak. is the fittest. sans blague. my friend Monsieur Moore. they have a rain that will wet through any. the only garment. Tut. tripping in. were it no bigger than a fairy mushroom. My dear Kitty told me today that she would dance in a deluge before ever she would starve in such an ark of salvation for. tut! cries Le Fecondateur. The first. nay. by the divine blessing. One umbrella. is my authority that in Cape Horn.Ulysses will be a new day and. he tells me. No woman of any wit would wear one. from whom I can have for a livre as snug a cloak of the French fashion as ever kept a lady from wetting. Monsieur Poyntz. The clumsy things are dear at a sou. I know of a marchand de capotes. that most accomplished traveller (I have just cracked a half bottle AVEC LUI in a circle of the best wits of the town). 743 of 1305 . as she reminded me (blushing piquantly and whispering in my ear though there was none to snap her words but giddy butterflies). thousand thunders. has 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 garb. Pooh! A livre! cries Monsieur Lynch.

Ulysses said she (and here my pretty philosopher. A monstrous fine bit of cowflesh! I’ll be sworn she has rendezvoused you. What. having spoken a few words in a low tone to young Mr Dixon. you dog? Have you a way with them? Gad’s bud. gently tipped with her tongue the outer chamber of my ear). immensely so. 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. said Costello. Demme. Lawksamercy. 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. to fix my attention. while all were conjecturing what might be the cause. retired with a profound bow to the company.. Strike me silly. as I handed her to her tilbury. Amid the general vacant hilarity of the assembly a bell rang and. Miss Callan entered and. doctor. said Mr Lynch. does not Doctor O’Gargle chuck the nuns there under the chin. cried the 744 of 1305 . the first is a bath . a low fellow who was fuddled. The bedside manner it is that they use in the Mater hospice. As I look to be saved I had it from my Kitty who has been wardmaid there any time these seven months..

you’re as bad as dear little Father Cantekissem. revile an ennobling profession which. feigning a womanish simper and with immodest squirmings of his body. I am positive when I say that if need were I could produce a cloud of witnesses to the excellence of her noble exercitations which. cried Costello. without wit to enliven or learning to instruct. is the greatest power for happiness upon the earth. The young surgeon. 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 cannot away with them. rose and begged the company to excuse his retreat as the nurse had just then informed him that he was needed in the ward. should be a glorious incentive in the human breast. that you are! May this pot of four half choke me. if she aint in the family way. I want patience. saving the reverence due to the Deity. however. I knows a lady what’s got a white swelling quick as I claps eyes on her. said he. Why. who is the lustre of her own sex and the astonishment of ours? And at an instant the most 745 of 1305 . how you do tease a body! Drat the man! Bless me. with those who. What? Malign such an one. so far from being a byword.Ulysses young blood in the primrose vest. the amiable Miss Callan. I’m all of a wibbly wobbly.

were as full of extravagancies as overgrown children: the words of their 746 of 1305 . Stap my vitals. it is true. a 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. Having delivered himself of this rebuke he saluted those present on the by and repaired to the door. The young sparks. said he. after his first entry. them 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. A murmur of approval arose from all and some were for ejecting the low soaker without more ado. To revert to Mr Bloom who.Ulysses 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. had 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.

he had enjoined his heart to repress all motions of a rising choler and. rash judgers scorn and all find tolerable and but tolerable. so 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 and. 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 gibbosity. which the dint of the surgeon’s pliers in his skull lent indeed a colour to.Ulysses 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. 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 747 of 1305 . by intercepting them with the readiest precaution. foster within his breast that plenitude of sufferance which base minds jeer at. born out of wedlock and thrust like a crookback toothed and feet first into the world. being of a wary ascendancy and self a man of rare forecast.

it must be owned. not 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. To conclude. while from the sister’s words he had reckoned upon a speedy delivery he was. Accordingly he broke his mind to his neighbour. caring nought for the mows of dotards or the gruntlings of the severe. to express his notion of the thing. is 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. saying that. his 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. however. can lose no more. Not but what he could feel with mettlesome youth which. having lost all forbearance. The dressy young blade said it was her husband’s that put her in that expectation or at least it 748 of 1305 .Ulysses of a proper breeding: while for such that. there remained the sharp antidote of experience to cause their insolency to beat a precipitate and inglorious retreat.

though the same young blade held with his former view that another than her conjugial had been the man in the gap. All fell to praising of it. But. as he calls her. Singular. communed the guest with himself. an elderly man with dundrearies. a linkboy (virtuous) or an itinerant vendor of articles needed in every household. I’ll be round with you. that 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. said Mr Crotthers. that the puerperal dormitory and the dissecting theatre should be the seminaries of such frivolity. each after his own fashion. I must acquaint you. old Glory Allelujurum was round again today. clapping on the table so as to evoke a resonant comment of emphasis.Ulysses ought to be unless she were another Ephesian matron. preferring through his nose a request to have word of Wilhelmina. the wonderfully unequal faculty of metempsychosis possessed by them. I bade him hold himself in readiness for that the event would burst anon. it is mayhap to relieve the pentup feelings that in common oppress them for I 749 of 1305 . I cannot but extol the virile potency of the old bucko that could still knock another child out of her. my life. he further added. a clerk in orders. ‘Slife.

Ulysses have more than once observed that birds of a feather laugh together. let it be asked of the noble lord. Unhappy woman. or 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. He says this. his patron. a censor of morals. a very 750 of 1305 . the daughter of a gallant major. she 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. has this alien. But with what fitness. whom the concession of a gracious prince has admitted to civic rights. if report belie him not. his own and his only enjoyer? Far be it from candour to violate the bedchamber of a respectable lady. constituted 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 is.

it had gone with her as hard as with Hagar. 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. transplanted to a clime more temperate. 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. the 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.Ulysses pelican in his piety. to attempt illicit intercourse with a female domestic drawn from the lowest strata of society! Nay. when rooted in its native orient. its roots have lost their quondam 751 of 1305 . who did not scruple. throve and flourished and was abundant in balm but. had the hussy’s scouringbrush not been her tutelary angel. oblivious of the ties of nature. 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.

to mollify. In vain the voice of Mr Canvasser Bloom was heard endeavouring to urge. with respect to the mother. silent in unanimous exhaustion and approbation the delegates. that rarer form. chafing 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 easier. Every phase of the situation was successively eviscerated: the prenatal repugnance of uterine brothers. who in his turn announced to the delegation that an heir had been born. the Caesarean section. acid and inoperative. The moment was too propitious for the display of that discursiveness which seemed the only bond of union among tempers so divergent. to refrain. the fratricidal case known as the Childs 752 of 1305 . When 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 council. broke out at once into a strife of tongues. 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 residence.Ulysses vigour while the stuff that comes away from it is stagnant. posthumity with respect to the father and.

involution of the womb consequent upon the menopause. artificial insemination by means of syringes. that distressing manner of delivery called by the Brandenburghers Sturzgeburt. the acardiac foetus in foetu and aprosopia due to a congestion. the problem of the perpetration of the species in the case of females impregnated by delinquent rape. miscarriages and infanticides. twikindled 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 753 of 1305 .Ulysses Murder and rendered memorable by the impassioned plea of Mr Advocate Bushe which secured the acquittal of the wrongfully accused. the prolongation of labour pains in advanced gravidancy by reason of pressure on the vein. the premature relentment of the amniotic fluid (as exemplified in the actual case) with consequent peril of sepsis to the matrix. the benefits of anesthesia or twilight sleep. the recorded instances of multiseminal. the 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 spoke. the rights of primogeniture and king’s bounty touching twins and triplets. simulated or dissimulated.

envisaged in such cases an arrest of embryonic development at some stage antecedent to the human. with such heat as almost carried conviction.Ulysses chromolithographic illustrations. supernumerary digits. his authority being his own avouchment in support of fables such as that of the Minotaur which the genius of the 754 of 1305 . The hypothesis of a plasmic memory. ardently and ineffectually entertained. breastmole. to place her hand against that part of her person which long usage has consecrated as the seat of castigation. the navelcord should strangle her creature and the injunction upon her in the event of a yearning. 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 lest. negro’s inkle. by her movement. The abnormalities of harelip. strawberry 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. An outlandish delegate sustained against both these views. the theory of copulation between women and the males of brutes. advanced by the Caledonian envoy and worthy of the metaphysical traditions of the land he stood for.

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 affect. Contemporaneously.. But Malachias’ tale began to freeze them with horror. perfunctorily the ecclesiastical ordinance forbidding man to put asunder what God has joined. Haines! Which of us did not feel his flesh creep! He had a portfolio full of Celtic literature in one hand.Ulysses elegant Latin poet has handed down to us in the pages of his Metamorphoses. in the other 755 of 1305 . he delivered briefly and. The impression made by his words was immediate but shortlived. a 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 other. Hitherto silent. whether the better to show by preternatural gravity that curious dignity of the garb with which he was invested or in obedience to an inward voice. The secret panel beside the chimney slid back and in the recess appeared . He conjured up the scene before them. the difficulty by mutual consent was referred to Mr Canvasser Bloom for instant submittal to Mr Coadjutor Deacon Dedalus. postulating as the supremest object of desire a nice clean old man.. as some thought.

ceased. In vain! His spectre stalks me. history is to blame. loathing were depicted on all faces while he eyed them with a ghostly grin. And how I am punished! The inferno has no terrors for me. he began with an eldritch laugh. the Erse language (he recited some). is in this life.Ulysses a phial marked Poison. Tears gushed from the eyes of the dissipated host. The 756 of 1305 . Malachias. I am the murderer of Samuel Childs. it seems. it is true. Surprise. An instant later his head appeared in the door opposite and said: Meet me at Westland Row station at ten past eleven. Yes. I anticipated some such reception. he muttered thickly. murmuring: The vendetta of Mananaun! The sage repeated: Lex talionis. laudanum (he raised the phial to his lips). This is the appearance is on me. The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a thing done. overcome by emotion. what way would I be resting at all.. rookshooting. It is what I tried to obliterate my crime. Distractions. camping out. Ah! Destruction! The black panther! With a cry he suddenly vanished and the panel slid back. horror.. Tare and ages. Dope is my only hope . The seer raised his hand to heaven. and Ireland’s. and I tramping Dublin this while back with my share of songs and himself after me the like of a soulth or a bullawurrus? My hell. He was gone. for which.

to be gay with the merry and mournful with the downcast. His real name was Childs. A score of years are blown away. so too is her age changeable as her mood. What is the age of the soul of man? As she hath the virtue of the chameleon to change her hue at every new approach. a year or so gone over. The spider pitches her web in the solitude. presto!). No soul will live there. For this relief much thanks. The black panther was himself the ghost of his own father. No longer is Leopold. It is haunted. The nocturnal rat peers from his hole. Haines was the third brother. That young figure of then is seen. as he sits there. He is young Leopold. The lonely house by the graveyard is uninhabited. a fullfledged traveller for the family firm. a mother’s thought. equipped with an orderbook. Murderer’s ground. chewing the cud of reminiscence. There. as in a retrospective arrangement. ruminating. He drank drugs to obliterate. that staid agent of publicity and holder of a modest substance in the funds. already on the road. A curse is on it. and in it a goodly hunk of wheaten loaf. precociously manly. his booksatchel on him bandolierwise. in his first hard hat (ah. he beholdeth himself.Ulysses mystery was unveiled. a mirror within a mirror (hey. 757 of 1305 . Or it is the same figure. walking on a nipping morning from the old house in Clanbrassil street to the high school. that was a day!).

the dark eyes and oleaginous address. reading through round horned spectacles some paper from the Europe of a month before. the smile. They are entwined in nethermost 758 of 1305 . brought home at duskfall many a commission to the head of the firm. But hey. Now he is himself paternal and these about him might be his sons. Who can say? The wise father knows his own child. the mirror is breathed on and the young knighterrant recedes. presto. the bridenight. seated with Jacob’s pipe after like labours in the paternal ingle (a meal of noodles. He thinks of a drizzling night in Hatch street. ever remember the night: first night. yours and mine and of all for a bare shilling and her luckpenny). shrivels. together they hear the heavy tread of the watch as two raincaped shadows pass the new royal university. you may be sure. a child of shame. The scent. dwindles to a tiny speck within the mist. Together (she is a poor waif. 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 virgin.Ulysses a scented handkerchief (not for show only). the first. but. Bridie! Bridie Kelly! He will never forget the name. is aheating). more than these. hard by the bonded stores there. shyly acknowledging (but the heart? tell me!) his studied baisemoins.

She follows her mother with ungainly steps. what Leopold was for Rudolph. scattering a perennial dew of stars. slim shapely haunches. No. never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields. Leopold. Netaim. shedding her dusk. a supple tendonous neck. In a breath ‘twas done but—hold! Back! It must not be! In terror the poor girl flees away through the murk.Ulysses darkness. silently the soul is wafted over regions of cycles of generations that have lived. a mare leading her fillyfoal. The voices blend and fuse in clouded silence: silence that is the infinite of space: and swiftly. Huuh! Hark! 759 of 1305 . the willer with the willed. fair reader. a home of screechowls and the sandblind upupa. the meek apprehensive skull. yet moulded in prophetic grace of structure. sad phantoms: all is gone. muttering thunder of rebellion. There is none now to be for Leopold. the ghosts of beasts. Name and memory solace thee not. No son of thy loins is by thee. the golden. and in an instant (fiat!) light shall flood the world. A region where grey twilight ever descends. She dare not bear the sunnygolden babe of day. Twilight phantoms are they. That youthful illusion of thy strength was taken from thee—and in vain. a daughter of night. They fade. is no more. And on the highway of the clouds they come. Did heart leap to heart? Nay. Agendath is a waste land. She is the bride of darkness.

And the equine portent grows again. mammoth and mastodon.Ulysses Huuh! Parallax stalks behind and goads them. Ominous revengeful zodiacal host! They moan. It floats. wonder of metempsychosis. passing upon the clouds. the everlasting bride. coifed with a veil of what do you call it gossamer. the lionmaned. the dear. Millicent. the lancinating lightnings of whose brow are scorpions. magnified in the deserted heavens. shod in sandals of bright gold. It is she. sapphire. they come trooping to the sunken sea. snouter and crawler. all their moving moaning multitude. horned and capricorned. it flows about her starborn flesh and loose it streams. Lacus Mortis. a queen among the Pleiades. the trumpeted with the tusked. unslaked and with horrible gulpings. sustained on currents of 760 of 1305 . ever virgin. mauve and heliotrope. Martha. the bulls of Bashan and of Babylon. it is she. vast. And lo. the young. till it looms. How serene does she now arise. harbinger of the daystar. Elk and yak. the radiant. the giantantlered. Onward to the dead sea they tramp to drink. emerald. nay to heaven’s own magnitude. murderers of the sun. in the penultimate antelucan hour. rodent. thou lost one. ruminant and pachyderm. the bride. the salt somnolent inexhaustible flood. over the house of Virgo.

All could see how hard it was for him to be reminded of his promise 761 of 1305 . Stephen said. it blazes. bullockbefriending bard. to acclaim you Stephaneforos. and greatly more. You have spoken of the past and its phantoms. That answer and those leaves. All who wish you well hope this for you. O no. Alcibiades. Pisistratus. All desire to see you bring forth the work you meditate. The young man’s face grew dark. am lord and giver of their life. Bous Stephanoumenos. He asked about Glaucon. coiling. writhing in the skies a mysterious writing till. Alpha. laying a hand on the shoulder near him. than a capful of light odes can call your genius father. will adorn you more fitly when something more. a ruby and triangled sign upon the forehead of Taurus. winding. I heartily wish you may not fail them. 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? I. simply swirling.Ulysses the cold interstellar wind. Vincent said to him. Vincent Lenehan said. Where were they now? Neither knew. He encircled his gadding hair with a coronal of vineleaves. He could not leave his mother an orphan. after a myriad metamorphoses of symbol. smiling at Vincent. Francis was reminding Stephen of years before when they had been at school together in Conmee’s time. Have no fear.

scamper. Madden up. 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 level. sir. A tear fell: one only. What rider is like him? Mount him on the camel or the boisterous buffalo the victory in a hack canter is still his. outstripped her. the mare ran out freshly with 0. Juno. How young she 762 of 1305 . she cried. A whacking fine whip. a queen of them. Do you remember her. By gad. shall we behold such another. Mercy on the luckless! Poor Sceptre! he said with a light sigh. He told them of the race. She was leading the field. I am undone. He would have withdrawn from the feast had not the noise of voices allayed the smart. Even Phyllis could not contain herself. Vincent? I wish you could have seen my queen today. The flag fell and. Madden had lost five drachmas on Sceptre for a whim of the rider’s name: Lenehan as much more. by this hand. said Lenehan. is W. Phyllis was silent: her eyes were sad anemones.Ulysses and of his recent loss. All hearts were beating. All was lost now. Never. Four winners yesterday and three today. huuh! off. Lane. She is not the filly that she was. But let us bear it as was the ancient wont. Vincent said. reached. But her lover consoled her and brought her a bright casket of gold in which lay some oval sugarplums which she partook.

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. reading. When Conmee had passed she glanced at her lovely echo in that little mirror she carries. The sweet creature turned all colours in her confusion. And in your ear. I doubt not. Lenehan said. blithe. I do not know the right name of it. you will not think who met us as we left the field. In going by he had blessed us. my friend. She is more taking then. A week ago she lay ill. Conmee himself! He was walking by the hedge. If I 763 of 1305 . The chestnuts that shaded us were in bloom: the air drooped with their persuasive odour and with pollen floating by us. but today she was free. four days on the couch. I think a brevier book with. she had pulled her fill as we reclined together. But he had been kind.Ulysses was and radiant (Lalage were scarce fair beside her) in her yellow shoes and frock of muslin. mocked at peril. a witty letter in it from Glycera or Chloe to keep the page. The gods too are ever kind. Her posies tool Mad romp that she is. feigning to reprove a slight disorder in her dress: a slip of underwood clung there for the very trees adore her.

intensely regarded. entirely due to a misconception of the shallowest character. Malachi whispered. Any object. The lords of the moon. Stephen answered. preserve a druid silence. as a matter of fact though.Ulysses had poor luck with Bass’s mare perhaps this draught of his may serve me more propensely. However. Warily. It is as painful perhaps to be awakened from a vision as to be born. an 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. may be a gate of access to the incorruptible eon of the gods. the preposterous surmise about him being in some description of a doldrums or other or mesmerised which was. Stephen? Theosophos told me so. His soul is far away. He was laying his hand upon a winejar: Malachi saw it and withheld his act. Theosophos told me. 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 764 of 1305 . Do you not think it. pointing to the stranger and to the scarlet label. whom in a previous existence Egyptian priests initiated into the mysteries of karmic law. was not the case at all.

Ulysses the wrong shop. after the moment before’s observations about boyhood days and the turf. as it subsequently transpired for reasons best known to himself. which put quite an altogether different complexion on the proceedings. both 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 with. He was simply and solely. also at the same time. a considerable degree of attentiveness in order not to upset any of the beer that was in it about the place. 765 of 1305 . however. 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. recollecting two or three private transactions of his own which the other two were as mutually innocent of as the babe unborn. Eventually. however.

Next the Scotchman was the place assigned to Costello. There too. 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 discussion. Crotthers was there at the foot of the table in his striking Highland garb. The debaters were the keenest in the land. while at his side was seated in stolid repose the squat form of Madden. Neither place nor council was lacking in dignity. 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. the theme they were engaged on the loftiest and most vital.Ulysses The debate which ensued was in its scope and progress an epitome of the course of life. his face glowing from the briny airs of the Mull of Galloway. opposite to him. the eccentric. was Lynch whose countenance bore already the stigmata of early depravity and premature wisdom. while to right and left 766 of 1305 . 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.

some questions which science cannot answer—at present—such as the first problem submitted by Mr L. it cannot be too often repeated. There may be. 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. and that vigilant wanderer. Canv. deals with tangible phenomena. assert others) is responsible for the birth of males or are the too long neglected spermatozoa or nemasperms the differentiating factors or is it. fresh from the hippodrome.) regarding the future determination of sex. It had better be stated here and now at the outset that the perverted transcendentalism to which Mr S. as most embryologists incline 767 of 1305 . Scep. but 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. Science.Ulysses of him were accommodated the flippant prognosticator. it is true. Bloom (Pubb.) contentions would appear to prove him pretty badly addicted runs directly counter to accepted scientific methods. Dedalus’ (Div. Must we accept the view of Empedocles of Trinacria that the right ovary (the postmenstrual period. soiled by the dust of travel and combat and stained by the mire of an indelible dishonour.

agreeable literature. pulmonary complaints etc.Ulysses to opine. by inhaling the bacteria which lurk in dust. mutilated soldiers and sailors. Hertwig. we are all born in the same way but we all die in different ways. Kalipedia. were accountable for any and every fallingoff in the calibre of the race. exposed scorbutic cardrivers. such as Culpepper. he said. religious ministers of all denominations. Doc. Spallanzani. as he pertinently remarks. a 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 position. Lusk. he alleged. would soon be generally adopted and all the graces of life. hideous publicity posters. and the revolting spectacles offered by our streets. Mulligan (Hyg. light philosophy. et Eug. It is interesting because. Leopold and Valenti. Mr M. paranoic bachelors and unfructified duennas—these. Blumenbach.) blames the sanitary conditions in which our greylunged citizens contract adenoids. instructive pictures. plastercast reproductions of the classical statues such as 768 of 1305 . the suspended carcases of dead animals. succubitus felix of the passive element. he prophesied. The other problem raised by the same inquirer is scarcely less vital: infant mortality. genuinely good music. These factors.

blood temperatures. everything. Crotthers (Disc. Bacc. the practice of criminal abortion or in the atrocious crime of infanticide. all things considered and in spite of our human shortcomings which often baulk nature in her intentions. as well as all other phenomena of evolution. 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 do. in nature’s vast workshop from the extinction of some remote sun to the blossoming 769 of 1305 .) that both natality and mortality.Ulysses Venus and Apollo. artistic coloured photographs of prize babies. An ingenious suggestion is that thrown out by Mr V. tidal movements. lunar phases. diseases in general. in fine. Lynch (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 official. Mr J. Arith. all these little attentions would enable ladies who were in a particular condition to pass the intervening months in a most enjoyable manner. culminating in the exposure of newborn infants.

in the long run beneficial to the race in general in securing thereby the survival of the fittest. though productive of pain to some of our feelings (notably the maternal).Ulysses of one of the countless flowers which beautify our public parks is subject to a law of numeration as yet unascertained. has 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 development. Dedalus’ (Div. Scep. corpulent 770 of 1305 . digest and apparently pass through the ordinary channel with pluterperfect imperturbability such multifarious aliments as cancrenous females emaciated by parturition. give us pause. an arrangement which. deglute. Mr S. in the poet’s words. 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 certainly. Nature.) remark (or should it be called an interruption?) that an omnivorous being which can masticate. some of us think. is nevertheless. we may rest assured.

might possibly find gastric relief in an innocent collation of staggering bob. 30 and 31 Holles street. Bloom (Pubb. presumably. F.) is the able and popular master. reveals as nought else could and in a very unsavoury light the tendency above alluded to. Dr A. I. Horne (Lic. Canv.Ulysses professional gentlemen.. K. in Midw. was 771 of 1305 . At the risk of her own. of which.) which took place in the commons’ hall of the National Maternity Hospital. he is reported by eyewitnesses as having stated that once a woman has let the cat into the bag (an esthete’s allusion. to 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 life. 29. C. it 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. as he phrased it. Q. P. as is well known. not to speak of jaundiced politicians and chlorotic nuns. In a recent public controversy with Mr L. to save her own. 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 being.

to lay in his arms that mite of God’s clay. All that surgical skill could do was done and the brave woman had manfully helped. the Universal Husband. 772 of 1305 . that longing hunger for baby fingers (a pretty sight it is to see). breathing a silent prayer of thanksgiving to One above. She had. to have her dear Doady there with her to share her joy. are happy too as they gaze down and smile upon the touching scene. Those who have passed on. It had been a weary weary while both for patient and doctor. loved one of old. Reverently look at her as she reclines there with the motherlight in her eyes. 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 bank. faithful lifemate now. College Green branch. none the less effective for the moderate and measured tone in which it was delivered. She had fought the good fight and now she was very very happy. And as her loving eyes behold her babe she wishes only one blessing more.Ulysses the telling rejoinder of his interlocutor. Meanwhile the skill and patience of the physician had brought about a happy accouchement. O Doady. who have gone before. the fruit of their lawful embraces. in the first bloom of her new motherhood.

a Purefoy if ever there was one. let no sigh break from that bosom. Violet Constance Louisa. Mary Alice. the 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 low. God! How beautiful now across the mist of years! But their children are grouped in her imagination about the bedside. lord Bobs of Waterford and Candahar) and now this last pledge of their union. knock the ashes from your pipe. Tom. Mamy. Frederick Albert (if he had lived). to rest. with the true Purefoy nose. He knows and will call in His own good time. Dublin Castle. darling little Bobsy (called after our famous hero of the South African war. And Doady. You too have fought the good fight and played loyally your man’s part. dear gentle Mina. Well done. Charley. to you my hand. and so with a tranquil heart to bed. No. Budgy (Victoria Frances).Ulysses it may never be again. thou good and faithful servant! 773 of 1305 . Sir. And so time wags on: but father Cronion has dealt lightly here. hers and his. Young hopeful will be christened Mortimer Edward after the influential third cousin of Mr Purefoy in the Treasury Remembrancer’s office. that faroff time of the roses! With the old shake of her pretty head she recalls those days.

A shaven space of lawn one soft May evening. at midnight. Yet a chance word will call them forth suddenly and they will rise up to confront him in the most various circumstances. not for vengeance to cut him off from the living but shrouded in the piteous vesture of the past. for the cruder things of life. remote. imposed. evoked. by habit or some studied trick. He may suffer their memory to grow dim. or while timbrel and harp soothe his senses or amid the cool silver tranquility of the evening or at the feast. when he is now filled with wine. by a word of so natural a homeliness as if those days were really present there (as some thought) with their immediate pleasures. A scene disengages itself in the observer’s memory.Ulysses 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. upon words so embittered as to accuse in their speaker an unhealthiness. silent. let them be as though they had not been and all but persuade himself that they were not or at least were otherwise. a vision or a dream. The stranger still regarded on the face before him a slow recession of that false calm there. 774 of 1305 . Not to insult over him will the vision come as over one that lies under her wrath. as it seemed. reproachful. a flair. it would seem.

as it 775 of 1305 . Atty. 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.Ulysses the wellremembered grove of lilacs at Roundtown. Tiny and their darker friend with I know not what of arresting in her pose then. Enter that antechamber of birth where the studious are assembled and note their faces. Our Lady of the Cherries. with a brief alert shock. one by its fellow. 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. fragrant 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. The end comes suddenly. bringing out the foreign warmth of the skin so daintily against the cool ardent fruit. Nothing. Mark this farther and remember. And yonder about that grey urn where the water moves at times in thoughtful irrigation you saw another as fragrant sisterhood. a comely brace of them pendent from an ear. purple and white. Floey.

a full pound if a milligramme. noble every student there. the vigilant watch of shepherds and of angels about a crib in Bethlehem of Juda long ago. punctual Bloom at heels with a universal grabbing at headgear. compass earth and sky in one vast slumber. Zermatt alpenstocks and what not. giving the cry.Ulysses seems. ashplants. Burke’s! outflings my lord Stephen. all bravely legging it. cockerel. jackanapes. so and not otherwise was the transformation. in swollen masses turgidly distended. befitting their station in that house. off for a minute’s race. pilldoctor. 776 of 1305 . impending 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 torrent. rather. tumultuously. welsher. there of rash or violent. upon the utterance of the word. But as before the lightning the serried stormclouds. The door! It is open? Ha! They are out. violent and instantaneous. heavy with preponderant excess of moisture. bilbos. Nurse Callan taken aback in the hallway cannot stay them nor smiling surgeon coming downstairs with news of placentation ended. Quietude of custody. and a tag and bobtail of all them after. A dedale of lusty youth. They hark him on. Panama hats and scabbards.

he whispers close in going: Madam. a glance of motherwit helping. the remarkablest progenitor barring none in this chaffering allincluding most farraginous chronicle. labour like a very bandog and let scholarment and all Malthusiasts go hang. Bloom stays with nurse a thought to send a kind word to happy mother and nurseling up there. Dixon follows giving them sharp language but raps out an oath. glistening on Dublin stone there under starshiny coelum. Theodore Purefoy. God’s air. Thou art all their daddies. thou hast done a doughty deed and no botch! Thou art. Theodore. life essence celestial. when comes the storkbird for thee? The air without is impregnated with raindew moisture. Cleave to her! Serve! Toil on. he too. and on. scintillant circumambient cessile air. Doctor Diet and Doctor Quiet. By heaven. I vow.Ulysses Burke’s of Denzille and Holles their ulterior goal. bemoiled with butcher’s bills at home and ingots (not thine!) in the countinghouse? Head up! For every 777 of 1305 . Art drooping under thy load. Looks she too not other now? Ward of watching in Horne’s house has told its tale in that washedout pallor. Then all being gone. the Allfather’s air. Breathe it deep into thee. Astounding! In her lay a Godframed Godgiven preformed possibility which thou hast fructified with thy modicum of man’s work.

and didst charge to cover like the transpontine bison. ringworm. a dead gasteropod. quinsy. mumps. raw. an udderful! Mother’s milk. milk too of those burgeoning stars overhead rutilant in thin rainvapour. without vim or stamina. bunions. bedsores. Drink. such as those rioters will quaff in their guzzling den. How saith Zarathustra? Deine Kuh Trübsal melkest Du. With thee it was not as with many that will and would and wait and never—do. thy fleece is drenched. See. say I! Herod’s slaughter of the innocents were the truer name. bleeding! She is a hoary pandemonium of ills. cold feet. I tell thee! He is a mule. enlarged glands. See! it displodes for thee in abundance. and sterile cohabitation! Give her beefsteaks. Vegetables. floating kidney. milk of madness. thy lifetask. Copulation without population! No. bilious attacks. Purefoy. Pshaw. 778 of 1305 . the milk of human kin. Nun Trinkst Du die süsse Milch des Euters. not worth a cracked kreutzer. warts.Ulysses newbegotten thou shalt gather thy homer of ripe wheat. A truce to threnes and trentals and jeremies and all such congenital defunctive music! Twenty years of it. forsooth. hayfever. red. Dost envy Darby Dullman there with his Joan? A canting jay and a rheumeyed curdog is all their progeny. Derbyshire neck. punch milk. Thou sawest thy America. man. gallstones. regret them not. varicose veins.

blast ye! Scoot. Keep a watch on the clock. Righto. Burke’s! Burke’s! Thence they advanced five parasangs. but her milk is hot and sweet and fattening. Yous join uz. Any brollies or gumboots in the fambly? Where the Henry Nevil’s sawbones and ole clo? Sorra one o’ me knows. To 779 of 1305 . apostates’ creed! No. Allee samee dis bunch. Hell. shove em out of the bleeding limelight. Jay. mister. Where’s Punch? All serene. The Denzille lane boys. look at the drunken minister coming out of the maternity hospal! Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus. what? Ay. To her. dear sir? No hentrusion in life. Ayes have it. Dix! Forward to the ribbon counter. Isaacs. old patriarch! Pap! Per deam Partulam et Pertundam nunc est bibendum! All off for a buster. Where you slep las nigh? Timothy of the battered naggin. Mullee! What’s on you? Ma mère m’a mariée. no. armstrong. Like ole Billyo. Mulligan! Abaft there! Shove ahead. Chuckingout time. Where’s that bleeding awfur? Parson Steve. Pater et Filius. hollering down the street. A make.Ulysses the honeymilk of Canaan’s land. Bonafides. Hurrah there. mes enfants! Fire away number one on the gun. No dollop this but thick rich bonnyclaber. British Beatitudes! Retamplatan Digidi Boumboum. Thy cow’s dug was tough. Slattery’s mounted foot. En avant. Lou heap good man.

Stimulate the caloric. tramp. Who’s astanding this here do? Proud possessor of damnall. Whether on the scaffold high.Ulysses be printed and bound at the Druiddrum press by two designing females. Scrum in. beef. savvy? Caramba! Have an eggnog or a prairie oyster. bibles. tramp. You. Dix? Pos fact. business. Silentium! Get a spurt on. Absinthe for me. Me nantee saltee. Not a red at me this week gone. No touch kicking. bulldogs battleships. Got bet be a boomblebee whenever he wus settin 780 of 1305 . Obligated awful. Beer. Most beautiful book come out of Ireland my time. Halt! Heave to. the boys are (atitudes!) parching. Rugger. March! Tramp. Wow. Stopped short never to go again when the old. Got a pectoral trauma. Enemy? Avuncular’s got my timepiece. Trample the trampellers. the cabby’s caudle. When for Irelandear. Don’t mention it. buggery and bishops. beef. trample the bibles. Chase me. Thunderation! Keep the durned millingtary step. Bishops boosebox. Ten to. Winding of his ticker. Declare misery. Yours? Mead of our fathers for the Übermensch. Proceed to nearest canteen and there annex liquor stores. Tention. sir? Ginger cordial. Calf covers of pissedon green. Five number ones. We fall. Bet to the ropes. Dittoh. Last word in art shades. my tootsies! You hurt? Most amazingly sorry! Query. eh. Beer.

Well. Here’s to us. I vear thee beest a gert vool. not much. Roun wi the nappy. And her take me to rests and her anker of rum. Buckled he is. Same here. Password. Know his dona? Yup. See her in her dishybilly. no kid. Peels off a credit. Pull down the blind. Baddybad Stephen lead astray goodygood Malachi. Hi! Spit in your own eye. Cribbed out of Meredith. polycimical jesuit! Aunty mine’s writing Pa Kinch. doc? Back fro Lapland? Your corporosity sagaciating O K? How’s the squaws and papooses? Womanbody after going on the straw? Stand and deliver. Five. sartin I do. Hurroo! Collar the leather. Digs up near the Mater. Here. Ours the white death and the ruddy birth. orchidised. boss! Mummer’s wire. you’ll scuse me saying. O gluepot. Jock braw Hielentman’s your barleybree. seven.Ulysses sleepin in hes bit garten. For the hoi polloi. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart. There’s hair. Look slippery. How’s that? Leg before wicket. Fine! Got a prime pair of mincepies. Jesified. love. Merci. Lovey lovekin. If you fall don’t wait to get up. Two Ardilauns. Don’t stain my brandnew sitinems. Give’s a shake of peppe. youngun. nine. Full of a dure. Sir? Spud again the rheumatiz? All poppycock. Must be seen to be believed. Lang may your lum reek and your kailpot boil! My tipple. you 781 of 1305 . None of your lean kine.

shir. Garn! Have a glint. Me? If she who seduced me had left but the name. Ise de cutest colour coon down our side. Police! Some H2O for a gent 782 of 1305 . Bold bad girl from the town of Mullingar. What say? In the speakeasy. Venus Pandemos. And a pull all together. Au reservoir. With a railway bloke. seeing as how no shiners is acoming. Bowsing nowt but claretwine. Rows of cast. do. What do you want for ninepence? Machree.Ulysses there. I’m jiggered. Stunned like. Gawds teruth. Underconstumble? He’ve got the chink ad lib. Every cove to his gentry mort. Smutty Moll for a mattress jig. Lil chile velly solly. Gum. matey. Us come right in on your invite. two days teetee. Bet your boots on. guvnor? Most deciduously. We are nae fou. You larn that go off of they there Frenchy bilks? Won’t wash here for nuts nohow. Twig? Shrieks of silence. Ex! Waiting. see? Up to you. Seed near free poun on un a spell ago a said war hisn. Tell her I was axing at her. We’re nae tha fou. macruiskeen. I shee you. Too full for words. Hauding Sara by the wame. Chawley. And been to barber he have. Catch aholt. How come you so? Opera he’d like? Rose of Castile. Les petites femmes. mossoo. sure. Out with the oof. Two bar and a wing. Tanks you. On the road to Malahide. Bantam. Tight. ’Tis. Caraway seed to carry away.

Tell a cram. Mare on form hot order. you’re going it some. Guinea to a goosegog. All in if he spots me. Come ahome. Horryvar. old man Leo.Ulysses fainted. if that aint a sheeny nachez. He’s going to holler. No fake. Sure thing. Jannock. her spouse. our Bantam. You move a motion? Steve boy. honest injun. I vil get misha mishinnah. Look at Bantam’s flowers. Decamping. More bluggy drunkables? Will immensely splendiferous stander permit one stooder of most extreme poverty and 783 of 1305 . Gospeltrue. I ses. Amen. Madden back Madden’s a maddening back. mong vioo. Wha gev ye thon colt? Pal to pal. Had the winner today till I tipped him a dead cert. He strike a telegramboy paddock wire big bug Bass to the depot. My colleen bawn. The colleen bawn. S’elp me. O. The ruffin cly the nab of Stephen Hand as give me the jady coppaleen. Land him in chokeechokee if the harman beck copped the game. Dinna forget the cowslips for hersel. There’s a great big holy friar. O lust our refuge and our strength. Shove him a joey and grahamise. Cornfide. Of John Thomas. Through yerd our lord. cheese it! Shut his blurry Dutch oven with a firm hand. vel. Shiver my timbers if I had. Criminal diversion? I think that yes. Stand by. Vyfor you no me tell? Vel. that. Must you go? Off to mammy. Gemini. Hide my blushes someone.

ye maun e’en gang yer gates. Cot’s plood and prandypalls.Ulysses one largesize grandacious thirst to terminate one expensive inaugurated libation? Give’s a breather. Bonsoir la compagnie. Bovril. Peep at his wearables. Cut and come again. pardner. by James. curate. couple of cookies for this child. Right. Closingtime. Boniface! Absinthe the lot. By mighty! What’s he got? Jubilee mutton. I’m about sprung. Eh? Rome boose for the Bloom toff. D’ye ken bare socks? Seedy cuss in the Richmond? 784 of 1305 . staboo? Hoots. Kind Kristyann wil yu help yung man hoose frend tuk bungellow kee tu find plais whear tu lay crown of his hed 2 night. mon. Health all! a la vôtre! Golly. Wants it real bad. Tarnally dog gone my shins if this beent the bestest puttiest longbreak yet. Slide. I hear you say onions? Bloo? Cadges ads. Photo’s papli. have you good wine. King to tower. gents. Time. And snares of the poxfiend. a wee drap to pree. gents! Who wander through the world. Where’s the buck and Namby Amby? Skunked? Leg bail. whatten tunket’s yon guy in the mackintosh? Dusty Rhodes. none! Not a pite of sheeses? Thrust syphilis down to hell and with him those other licensed spirits. Play low. by all that’s gorgeous. Checkmate. Aweel. Crickey. Nos omnes biberimus viridum toxicum diabolus capiat posterioria nostria. Landlord. Item. landlord.

Night. There’s eleven of them. Mona. Forward. Bartle the Bread we calls him. Mona. Trumpery insanity. May Allah the Excellent One your soul this night ever tremendously conserve. Live axle drives are souped. Lay you two to one Jenatzy licks him ruddy well hollow. Slung her hook. Be worse for him. O. my own love. tiens. but it is well sad. The least tholice. says he. was once a prosperous cit. that. Night. Here see lost love. The Leith police dismisseth us. Nix for the hornies. Time all. she did. Schedule time. 785 of 1305 . inyah! Sunk by war specials. Tuck and turn in. Your attention! We’re nae tha fou. my faith. get. Jappies? High angle fire.Ulysses Rawthere! Thought he had a deposit of lead in his penis. Pardon? Seen him today at a runefal? Chum o’ yourn passed in his checks? Ludamassy! Pore piccaninnies! Thou’ll no be telling me thot. Yook. yes. Ware hawks for the chap puking. Pold veg! Did ums blubble bigsplash crytears cos fren Padney was took off in black bag? Of all de darkies Massa Pat was verra best. my true love. Ook. Tiens. Get ye gone. Man all tattered and torn that married a maiden all forlorn. sir. rev on a gradient one in nine. I never see the like since I was born. Unwell in his abominable regions. nor any Rooshian. Walking Mackintosh of lonely canyon. Yooka. That. woozy wobblers! Night.

Then outspake medical Dick to his comrade medical Davy. bullnecked. false alarms and excess baggage! Come on. that’s my name. You not come? Run. who 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. Pflaaaap! Lynch! Hey? Sign on long o’ me. race. weaseleyed fourflushers. Mount street way. that’s yanked to glory most half this planet from Frisco beach to Vladivostok. beetlebrowed. who’s this excrement yellow gospeller on the Merrion hall? Elijah is coming! Washed in the blood of the Lamb. Strike up a ballad.Ulysses Hark! Shut your obstropolos. skelter. you dog-gone. Christicle. she said. you triple extract of infamy! Alexander J Christ Dowie. Brigade! Bout ship. Cut up! Pflaap! Tally ho. Righto. Laetabuntur in cubilibus suis. Pflaap! Ut implerentur scripturae. any old time. Pflaap! Pflaap! Blaze on. I put it to you that He’s on the square and a corking fine business proposition. ginsizzling. hogjowled. Come on you winefizzling. We two. You coming long? Whisper. There she goes. Change here for Bawdyhouse. The Deity aint no nickel dime bumshow. He’s the 786 of 1305 . peanutbrained. will seek the kips where shady Mary is. Denzille lane this way. booseguzzling existences! Come on.

***** The Mabbot street entrance of nighttown. forges on through the murk. if you want to diddle the Almighty God. THE ANSWERS: Round behind the stable. my love. (A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes. Round Rabaiotti’s halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble. they scatter slowly. Whistles call and answer. A chain of children ‘s hands imprisons him. THE CALLS: Wait. Children. jerks past. Rows of grimy houses with gaping doors. white and blue under a lighthouse. Pflaaaap! Not half. shaken in Saint Vitus’ dance. my friend. He’s got a coughmixture with a punch in it for you.Ulysses grandest thing yet and don’t you forget it. They grab wafers between which are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow. You’ll need to rise precious early you sinner there. Shout salvation in King Jesus. The swancomb of the gondola. Rare lamps with faint rainbow fins.) THE CHILDREN: Kithogue! Salute! 787 of 1305 . Just you try it on. red and green will-o’-the-wisps and danger signals. before which stretches an uncobbled tramsiding set with skeleton tracks. Sucking. his shapeless mouth dribbling. and I’ll be with you. in his back pocket. highreared.

(They release him. Cissy Caffrey’s voice. clutches her skirt. He jerks on. grinding growling teeth. lurk. swaying her lamp. Oaths of a man roar. At a comer two night watch in shouldercapes. On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones. their hands upon their staffholsters. crawls sidling after her in spurts. peer from warrens. still young. A pigmy woman swings on a rope slung between two railings. A crone standing by with a smoky oillamp rams her last bottle in the maw of his sack. and snores again. A drunken navvy grips with both hands the railings of an area. A plate crashes: a woman screams: a child wails. sings shrill from a lane. lurching heavily.Ulysses THE IDIOT: (Lifts a palsied left arm and gurgles) Grhahute! THE CHILDREN: Where’s the great light? THE IDIOT: (Gobbing) Ghaghahest. cease. The crone makes back for her lair. counting. scrambles up. A bandy child.) CISSY CAFFREY: 788 of 1305 . loom tall. In a room lit by a candle stuck in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the hair of a scrofulous child. groans. asquat on the doorstep with a paper shuttlecock. tugs askew his peaked cap and hobbles off mutely. A form sprawled against a dustbin and muffled by its arm and hat snores. He heaves his booty. Figures wander. mutter.

as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their mouths a volleyed fart. Stephen Dedalus and Lynch pass through the crowd close to the redcoats.Ulysses I gave it to Molly Because she was jolly. swaggersticks tight in their oxters. (Private Carr and Private Compton turn and counterretort. The leg of the duck.) THE VIRAGO: Signs on you. Laughter of men from the lane. More power the Cavan girl. Cootehill and Belturbet. (Private Carr and Private Compton.) PRIVATE COMPTON: (Jerks his finger) Way for the parson. (She sings) I gave it to Nelly To stick in her belly. parson! CISSY CAFFREY: (Her voice soaring higher) 789 of 1305 . The leg of the duck. A hoarse virago retorts. The leg of the duck. CISSY CAFFREY: More luck to me. hairy arse. The leg of the duck. Cavan. their tunics bloodbright in a lampglow. PRIVATE CARR: (Turns and calls) What ho. black sockets of caps on their blond cropped polls.

) EDY BOARDMAN: (Bickering) And says the one: I seen you up Faithful place with your squarepusher. (The famished snaggletusks of an elderly bawd protrude from a doorway. Wherever she put it.Ulysses She has it. chants with joy the introit for paschal time. says I. You never seen me in the mantrap with a married highlander. says I. The leg of the duck. Sst! STEPHEN: (Altius aliquantulum) Et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista. Fallopian tube. Did you. his jockeycap low on his brow. (Stephen.) STEPHEN: Vidi aquam egredientem de templo a latere dextro. sniffling. attends him. Maidenhead inside. Lynch. (Edy Boardman. All prick and no pence. the greaser off the railway. THE BAWD: (Spits in their trail her jet of venom) Trinity medicals. draws her shawl across her nostrils. crouched with bertha supple. flourishing the ashplant in his left hand. says I. in his cometobed hat. That’s not for you to say. a sneer of discontent wrinkling his face.) THE BAWD: (Her voice whispering huskily) Sst! Come here till I tell you. The likes of her! Stag that one is! Stubborn as a mule! And her 790 of 1305 . she got it. Alleluia.

A liver and white spaniel on the prowl slinks after him. growling. Kilbride. shattering light over the world. the structural rhythm. LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology. Even the allwisest Stagyrite was bitted. to la belle dame sans merci. and lancecorporal Oliphant. ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam. not music not odour.) LYNCH: So that? STEPHEN: (Looks behind) So that gesture. Hold my stick. Lynch scares it with a kick. LYNCH: Ba! STEPHEN: Anyway. who wants two gestures to illustrate a loaf and a jug? This movement illustrates the loaf and jug of bread or wine in Omar. bridled and mounted by a light of love. Metaphysics in Mecklenburgh street! STEPHEN: We have shrewridden Shakespeare and henpecked Socrates. would be a universal language. (He flourishes his ashplant. LYNCH: Damn your yellow stick. shivering the lamp image. the enginedriver. Where are we going? STEPHEN: Lecherous lynx. STEPHEN: (Ttriumphaliter) Salvi facti sunt. the gift of tongues rendering visible not the lay sense but the first entelechy.Ulysses walking with two fellows the one time. Georgina Johnson. 791 of 1305 .

flushed. 792 of 1305 . Illustrate thou. clefts. A concave mirror at the side presents to him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom. middens arise on all sides stagnant fumes. The navvy lurches against the lamp.Ulysses (Stephen thrusts the ashplant on him and slowly holds out his hands. That or the customhouse. panting. Bloom for Bloom. Jacky Caffrey clasps to climb. cramming bread and chocolate into a sidepocket. A glow leaps in the south beyond the seaward reaches of the river. The navvy. (They pass. presses a forefinger against a wing of his nose and ejects from the farther nostril a long liquid jet of snot. Here take your crutch and walk. From the top spur he slides down. cesspools. his head going back till both hands are a span from his breast. clasping. The navvy.) LYNCH: Which is the jug of bread? It skills not. The twins scuttle off in the dark. swaying. Shouldering the lamp he staggers away through the crowd with his flaring cresset. From Gillen’s hairdresser’s window a composite portrait shows him gallant Nelson’s image. Grave Gladstone sees him level. From drains. in planes intersecting. cleaves the crowd and lurches towards the tramsiding on the farther side under the railway bridge bloom appears. Tommy Caffrey scrambles to a gaslamp and. down turned. the fingers about to part. Snakes of river fog creep slowly. he passes. staggering forward. climbs in spasms. the left being higher.

on fire! (He catches sight of the navvy lurching through the crowd 793 of 1305 . one containing a lukewarm pig’s crubeen. of course. standing upright.) BLOOM: What is that? A flasher? Searchlight. the other a cold sheep’s trotter. Then bending to one side he presses a parcel against his ribs and groans. (He stands at Cormack’s corner. Ah! (He disappears into Olhausen’s. but in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy. Might be his house. South side anyhow. Beggar’s bush. sprinkled with wholepepper. London’s burning! On fire. Big blaze. (He hums cheerfully) London’s burning. In each hand he holds a parcel. In a moment he reappears and hurries on. the porkbutcher’s. Why did I run? (He takes breath with care and goes forward slowly towards the lampset siding. watching) BLOOM: Aurora borealis or a steel foundry? Ah. blowing Bloohoom. sweated under the bright arclamp. puffing Poldy. We’re safe.Ulysses struck by the stare of truculent Wellington.) BLOOM: Stitch in my side. the brigade. He gasps. N. under the downcoming rollshutter.) BLOOM: Fish and taters. He disappears. At Antonio Pabaiotti’s door Bloom halts. The glow leaps again. g. A few moments later he emerges from under the shutter.

its trolley hissing on the wire. pugnosed.) THE URCHINS: Mind out. on the guidewheel. grazing him. darts forward suddenly. travelling at caution. Better cross here. Must take up Sandow’s exercises again. thrown forward. The motorman bangs his footgong. shitbreeches. He brushes a mudflake from his cheek with a parcelled hand.) THE MOTORMAN: Hey. Quick. with lighted paper lanterns aswing. its huge red headlight winking. Urchins shout. Bloom. Through rising fog a dragon sandstrewer. On the hands down. (The brake cracks violently. BLOOM: (Halts erect.) THE GONG: Bang Bang Bla Bak Blud Bugg Bloo. are you doing the hat trick? BLOOM: (Bloom trickleaps to the curbstone and halts again. slews heavily down upon him. their bells rattling) THE BELLS: Haltyaltyaltyall.) No thoroughfare. mister! (Two cyclists. The Providential. Insure against street accident too. swim by him. blunders stifflegged out of the track. Run. The motorman. Close shave that but cured the stitch.Ulysses at the farther side of Talbot street) I’ll miss him. yells as he slides past over chains and keys. stung by a spasm) Ow! (He looks round. raising a policeman’s whitegloved hand. 794 of 1305 . (He darts to cross the road.

He steps left. I ought to report him. raises a signal arm) Password. BLOOM: Haha. A sackshouldered ragman bars his path. Why? Probably lost cattle. The stiff walk. (He closes his eyes an instant) Bit light in the head. Something poisonous I ate. sent by that fireeater. Sraid Mabbot.) BLOOM: Buenas noches. Emblem of luck. That awful cramp in Lad lane. Merci. Too much for me now. That tired feeling. Tension makes them nervous.Ulysses (He feels his trouser pocket) Poor mamma’s panacea. Mark of the beast. que calle es esta? THE FIGURE: (Impassive. From under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with evil eye. Might be the fellow balked me this morning with that horsey woman. Brainfogfag. Insolent driver. Slan leath. Esperanto. (He steps forward. a visage unknown. Day the wheel of the black Maria peeled off my shoe at Leonard’s corner. injected with dark mercury. Monthly or effect of the other. (He mutters) Gaelic league spy. ragsackman left. señorita Blanca. True word spoken in jest.) 795 of 1305 . Same style of beauty. Third time is the charm. Shoe trick. Ow! (A sinister figure leans on plaited legs against o’beirne’s wall. Quick of him all the same. Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a cog.

First place murderer makes for. sweets of sin. (Jacky Caffrey. right. potato soap. Keep. A fence more likely. bookpocket. A stooped bearded figure appears garbed in the long caftan of an elder in Zion and a smokingcap with magenta tassels. he halts. keep to the right. nose to the ground. 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.) BLOOM: Beware of pickpockets. Wash off his sins of the world. slips past and on. pursepoket. Then snatch your purse. runs full tilt against Bloom. stepaside.) 796 of 1305 . there.) BLOOM: Keep to the right. Tommy and Jacky vanish there. Rags and bones at midnight. Collide. (He swerves.) BLOOM: O (Shocked. (The retriever approaches sniffing. keep. Horned spectacles hang down at the wings of the nose. Yellow poison streaks are on the drawn face. A sprawled form sneezes. sidles. Old thieves’ dodge. Bloom pats with parcelled hands watch fobpocket. hunted by Tommy Caffrey. right. on weak hams.Ulysses BLOOM: I beg.

feels warm and cold feetmeat) Ja. All that’s left of him. 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. in brown Alpine hat. Only that once. I told you not go with drunken goy ever. wearing gent’s sterling silver waterbury keyless watch and double curb Albert with seal attached. What you call them running chaps? BLOOM: (In youth’s smart blue Oxford suit with white vestslips. 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 so.Ulysses RUDOLPH: Second halfcrown waste money today. one side of him coated with stiffening mud) Harriers. BLOOM: (Hides the crubeen and trotter behind his back and. RUDOLPH: (Severely) One night they bring you home drunk as dog after spend your good money. narrowshouldered. So you catch no money. father. ich weiss. father. 797 of 1305 . crestfallen. papachi. Mosenthal.

BLOOM: (Weakly) They challenged me to a sprint. begins to bestow his parcels in his filled pockets but desists. They make you kaputt. his eyes downcast. It was muddy. grey mittens and cameo brooch. where were you at all at all? (Bloom.) A VOICE: (Sharply) Poldy! BLOOM: Who? (He ducks and wards off a blow clumsily) At your service. and cries out in shrill alarm) O blessed Redeemer. a shrivelled potato and a celluloid doll fall out) Sacred Heart of Mary. Lockjaw. 798 of 1305 . her plaited hair in a crispine net. what have they done to him! My smelling salts! (She hauls up a reef of skirt and ransacks the pouch of her striped blay petticoat. I slipped. blouse with muttonleg sleeves buttoned behind. appears over the staircase banisters. a slanted candlestick in her hand. RUDOLPH: (With contempt) Goim nachez! Nice spectacles for your poor mother! BLOOM: Mamma! ELLEN BLOOM: (In pantomime dame’s stringed mobcap. widow Twankey’s crinoline and bustle. You watch them chaps. Leopoldleben. an Agnus Dei. mumbling. muttering. A phial.Ulysses RUDOLPH: Once! Mud head to foot. Cut your hand open.

then 799 of 1305 . things to tell her. A white yashmak. plucks from a tree a large mango fruit. Beside her mirage of datepalms a handsome woman in Turkish costume stands before him. offers it to his mistress.Ulysses (He looks up. questions. lifting a foreleg. blinking. hooded with a turreting turban. in his cloven hoof. Her ankles are linked by a slender fetterchain. violet in the night. On her feet are jewelled toerings. when you speak to me. scolding him in Moorish. spellbound. hopes. no. Fiercely she slaps his haunch. Beside her a camel. her goldcurb wristbangles angriling. waits. (Satirically) Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long? BLOOM: (Shifts from foot to foot) No. (He breathes in deep agitation.) BLOOM: Molly! MARION: Welly? Mrs Marion from this out. my dear man. crubeens for her supper. A silk ladder of innumerable rungs climbs to his bobbing howdah. leaving free only her large dark eyes and raven hair. slashed with gold. Opulent curves fill out her scarlet trousers and jacket.) MARION: Nebrakada! Femininum! (The camel. A coin gleams on her forehead. desire. swallowing gulps of air. covers her face. A wide yellow cummerbund girdles her. He ambles near with disgruntled hindquarters. excuse. Not the least little bit.

Mrs Marion.) BLOOM: I can give you . I mean as your business menagerer . A cake of new clean lemon soap arises.. Bloom stoops his back for leapfrog. But the first thing in the morning. grunting. fumbles to kneel. diffusing light and perfume. MARION: So you notice some change? (Her hands passing slowly over her trinketed stomacher. BLOOM: I was just going back for that lotion whitewax. I polish the sky.) THE SOAP: We’re a capital couple are Bloom and I. MARION: (Softly) Poldy! 800 of 1305 . Mrs Marion . Poldy.. Ah! (He points to the south. He brightens the earth.. Shop closes early on Thursday.. BLOOM: Yes. then to the east. a slow friendly mockery in her eyes) O Poldy..Ulysses droops his head and. orangeflower water. (The freckled face of Sweny. appears in the disc of the soapsun.) SWENY: Three and a penny. please. the druggist. (He pats divers pockets) This moving kidney. See the wide world. For my wife. if you . with uplifted neck. you are a poor old stick in the mud! Go and see life... Special recipe..

The elderly bawd seizes his sleeve. rainbedraggled. recovers. Fresh thing was never touched. In the gap of her dark den furtive. Gerty Macdowell limps forward. (He follows. Weak squeaks of laughter are heard.) 801 of 1305 .. ogling.) THE BAWD: (Her wolfeyes shining) He’s getting his pleasure. Fifteen. Ten shillings. humming the duet from Don Giovanni. ma’am? MARION: ti trema un poco il cuore? (In disdain she saunters away. A burly rough pursues with booted strides..) THE BAWD: Ten shillings a maidenhead. Any good in your mind? (With a squeak she flaps her bat shawl and runs. weaker. plump as a pampered pouter pigeon. and shows coyly her bloodied clout. plunges into gloom. She draws from behind. the bristles of her chinmole glittering.Ulysses BLOOM: Yes. Sixtyseven is a bitch. Bridie Kelly stands. Don’t be all night before the polis in plain clothes sees us. (She points. He stumbles on the steps. followed by the sniffing terrier. (Leering. There’s no-one in it only her old father that’s dead drunk.) BRIDIE: Hatch street. You won’t get a virgin in the flash houses.) BLOOM: Are you sure about that voglio? I mean the pronunciati .

(She paws his sleeve. Writing the gentleman false letters.. Walls have ears. when we last had this pleasure by letter dated the sixteenth instant . I hate you. Whatever do you think of me? Don’t give me away. THE BAWD: Leave the gentleman alone. (She glides away crookedly.. her roguish eyes wideopen. BLOOM: (Coughs gravely) Madam. You’re looking splendid. Black refracts heat.Ulysses GERTY: With all my worldly goods I thee and thou. BLOOM: I? When? You’re dreaming. 802 of 1305 . I never saw you.. hussy like you..) MRS BREEN: Mr . MRS BREEN: Mr Bloom! You down here in the haunts of sin! I caught you nicely! Scamp! BLOOM: (Hurriedly) Not so loud my name. Short cut home here. GERTY: (To Bloom) When you saw all the secrets of my bottom drawer. Better for your mother take the strap to you at the bedpost. (She murmurs) You did that. Seasonable weather we are having this time of year. smiling in all her herbivorous buckteeth. Streetwalking and soliciting. you cheat. stands in the causeway. How do you do? It’s ages since I. slobbering) Dirty married man! I love you for doing that to me. Mrs Breen in man’s frieze overcoat with loose bellows pockets. Absolutely it.

upstarched Sambo chokers and large scarlet asters in their buttonholes. Sweep for that matter. don’t tell a big fib! I know somebody won’t like that. Their paler smaller negroid hands jingle the twingtwang wires. Flashing white Kaffir eyes and tusks they rattle through a breakdown in clumsy clogs. The exotic. scarlet socks. back to back. Othello black brute. Slumming. singing. Eugene Stratton. I know. twinging. MRS BREEN: (Holds up a finger) Now. Each has his banjo slung. Negro servants in livery too if she had money.) TOM AND SAM: There’s someone in the house with Dina There’s someone in the house.. Magdalen asylum. (Tom and Sam Bohee. coloured coons in white duck suits. There’s someone in the house with Dina Playing on the old banjo. with smackfatclacking nigger lips. I am the secretary . Bohee brothers. leap out. Even the bones and cornerman at the Livermore christies..Ulysses Interesting quarter. you see. 803 of 1305 . Rescue of fallen women. 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. toe heel. heel toe.

you ruck! You ought to see yourself! BLOOM: For old sake’ sake. How time flies by! Do you remember. they diddle diddle cakewalk dance away. twanging. You know I had a soft corner for you. prettiest deb in Dublin. Old Christmas night.) BLOOM: (With a sour tenderish smile) A little frivol. (She puts out her hand inquisitively) What are you hiding behind your back? Tell us.Ulysses (They whisk black masks from raw babby faces: then. BLOOM: (Seizes her wrist with his free hand) Josie Powell that was. if you are so inclined? Would you like me perhaps to embrace you just for a fraction of a second? MRS BREEN: (Screams gaily) O. (Gloomily) ‘Twas I sent you that valentine of the dear gazelle. shall we. there’s a dear. I only meant a square party. Georgina Simpson’s housewarming while they were playing the Irving Bishop game. chortling. you do look a holy show! Killing simply. chuckling. trumming. finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading? Subject. MRS BREEN: Glory Alice. harking back in a retrospective arrangement. what is in this snuffbox? 804 of 1305 . a mixed marriage mingling of our different little conjugials.

blue masonic badge in his buttonhole. I took the splinter out of this hand. slowly. black bow and mother-of-pearl studs. BLOOM: (Squire of dames. 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.Ulysses MRS BREEN: You were the lion of the night with your seriocomic recitation and you looked the part. 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. You were always a favourite with the ladies. Two is company. (Tenderly. MRS BREEN: The dear dead days beyond recall. as he slips on her finger a ruby ring) Là ci darem la mano. Love’s old sweet song. in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings. his fingers and thumb passing slowly down to her soft moist meaty palm which she surrenders gently) The witching hour of night. home and beauty. 805 of 1305 . Under the mistletoe. BLOOM: (Wearing a purple Napoleon hat with an amber halfmoon. carefully. I give you Ireland. a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his hand) Ladies and gentlemen.

(His clenched fist at his brow) Think what it means. (Hoarsely) Woman.Ulysses MRS BREEN: (In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue. dogs him to left and right. Little Alf Bergan. I can never forgive you for that. a tinsel sylph’s diadem on her brow with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper. BLOOM: When you made your present choice they said it was beauty and the beast.boards. The answer is a lemon. offers a pigeon kiss) Hnhn. his dull beard thrust out. breathing quickly) Voglio e non. p: Up. You’re hot! You’re scalding! The left hand nearest the heart.) ALF BERGAN: (Points jeering at the sandwichboards) U. whitetallhatted. curves her palm softly. MRS BREEN: (To Bloom) High jinks below stairs. it’s breaking me! (Denis Breen. shuffles past them in carpet slippers. cloaked in the pall of the ace of spades. (She gives him the glad eye) Why didn’t you kiss the spot to make it well? You wanted to. muttering to right and left. BLOOM: (Shocked) Molly’s best friend! Could you? MRS BREEN: (Her pulpy tongue between her lips. with Wisdom Hely’s sandwich. doubled in laughter. Have you a little present for me there? 806 of 1305 . All you meant to me then.

his hand to his back) Ah! Bright’s! Lights! BLOOM: (Ooints to the navvy) A spy. stands on the curbstone. gores him with his flaming pronghorn. I am not on pleasure bent. (Bald Pat. Wait till I wait. Inev erate inall . appears weighted to one side by the black legal bag of Collis and Ward on which a skull and crossbones are painted in white limewash. I hate stupid crowds. A snack for supper. three ladies’ hats pinned on his head. Don’t attract attention.) RICHIE: (With a cry of pain. (Richie Goulding. kippered herrings. Rattling good place round there for pigs’ feet. (With hanging head he marches doggedly forward.. Findon haddies and tightpacked pills. Mrs Bandmann Palmer. RICHIE: Goodgod. He opens it and shows it full of polonies.) RICHIE: Best value in Dub. Unfortunately threw away the programme.Ulysses BLOOM: (Offhandedly) Kosher. bothered beetle. Feel. Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare. waiting to wait.. The navvy.) PAT: (Advances with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy) Steak and kidney. lurching by. 807 of 1305 . Hee hee hee. Bottle of lager. I was at Leah. I am in a grave predicament. folding his napkin. The home without potted meat is incomplete.

was weaned when we all went together to Fairyhouse races.Ulysses MRS BREEN: Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and bull story. I have a most particular reason. (The bawd makes an unheeded sign. was it? MRS BREEN: (In smart Saxe tailormade. not for worlds. whining piteously. Shall us? MRS BREEN: Let’s. fawn dustcoat on his arm. Not even Molly. tony buff shirt. BLOOM: I mean. wagging his tail.) THE BAWD: Jewman’s melt! BLOOM: (In an oatmeal sporting suit. BLOOM: Let’s walk on. And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that old fiveseater 808 of 1305 . The terrier follows. But you must never tell. white velours hat and spider veil) Leopardstown. years and years ago. tawny red brogues. Leopardstown. just after Milly. a sprig of woodbine in the lapel. BLOOM: I want to tell you a little secret about how I came to be here. fieldglasses in bandolier and a grey billycock hat) Do you remember a long long time. Bloom walks on with Mrs Breen. MRS BREEN: (All agog) O. Marionette we called her. shepherd’s plaid Saint Andrew’s cross scarftie. white spats.

. ever more rapidly) And Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of Mrs Joe Gallaher’s lunch basket. a bit of wire and an old rag of velveteen. of course.. MRS BREEN: She did. And Molly was laughing because Rogers and Maggot O’Reilly were mimicking a cock as 809 of 1305 .. though she had her advisers or admirers. MRS BREEN: (Squeezes his arm. little mite of a thing with a heart the size of a fullstop. She was .. secretly. you cruel naughty creature. simpers) Naughty cruel I was! BLOOM: (Low. BLOOM: Yes.. I never cared much for her style. the 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 it. and I’ll lay you what you like she did it on purpose . Frankly.Ulysses 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 eleven. MRS BREEN: Too ..

the tea merchant. and the poodle in her lap bridled up and you asked me if I ever heard or read or knew or came across . (She fades from his side. yes. THE LOITERERS: (Guffaw with cleft palates) O jays! (Their paintspeckled hats wag. drove past us in a gig with his daughter. yes. her feet apart. In an archway a standing woman. bent forward. his 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. yes. They think it funny. growling. yes. MRS BREEN: (Eagerly) Yes. Followed by the whining dog he walks on towards hellsgates. pisses cowily. Outside a shuttered pub a bunch of loiterers listen to a tale which their brokensnouted gaffer rasps out with raucous humour. Dancer Moses was her name. Anything but that.Ulysses we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses.. Spattered with size and lime of their lodges they frisk limblessly about him. yes. An armless pair of them flop wrestling. 810 of 1305 . Lucky no woman. yes. Broad daylight.) BLOOM: Coincidence too. Trying to walk.) THE GAFFER: (Crouches. in maimed sodden playfight..

811 of 1305 . you British army! PRIVATE CARR: (Behind his back) He aint half balmy. (Bloom passes. Cheap whores. PRIVATE COMPTON: (Laughs) What ho! PRIVATE CARR: (To the navvy) Portobello barracks canteen. shawled. From a bulge of window curtains a gramophone rears a battered brazen trunk. THE NAVVY: (Gripping the two redcoats. You ask for Carr. corners. Shilling a bottle of stout. (He plodges through their sump towards the lighted street beyond. Just Carr. into the men’s porter. coupled.Ulysses THE LOITERERS: Jays. 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. O jays. staggers forward with them) Come on. doors. dishevelled. Glauber salts. that’s a good one. Respectable woman. singly.) THE WHORES: Are you going far. come here till I stiffen it for you. queer fellow? How’s your middle leg? Got a match on you? Eh. call from lanes.

THE NAVVY: (Shouts) The galling chain. Once is a dose. Relieving office here. I love old Bennett. If I hadn’t heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn’t have gone and wouldn’t have met. Kismet. his tongue outlolling. Nice mixup. (He staggers forward. What am I following him for? Still. Drunks cover distance double quick.Ulysses THE NAVVY: (Shouts) We are the boys. Might have taken me to Malahide or a siding for the night or collision. Train with engine behind. Scene at Westland row. dragging them with him. Second drink does it. Of Wexford. he’s the best of that lot. PRIVATE COMPTON: Say! What price the sergeantmajor? PRIVATE CARR: Bennett? He’s my pal. panting) BLOOM: Wildgoose chase this. Bloom stops. Then jump in first class with third ticket. at fault. Good 812 of 1305 . Then too far. Lord knows where they are gone. The dog approaches. Disorderly houses. He’ll lose that cash. And free our native land.

What do ye lack? Soon got. smoking birdseye cigarettes. What was he? Kildare street club toff. wagging his tail.) THE WREATHS: Sweet are the sweets. Absence of body.) Strange how they take to me. The odour of the sicksweet weed floats towards him in slow round ovalling wreaths. Stinks like a polecat. Like women they like rencontres. Might have lost my life too with that mangongwheeltracktrolleyglarejuggernaut only for presence of mind. (He gazes ahead. Can’t always save you. five hundred pounds. One and eightpence too much. What’s that like? (Gaudy dollwomen loll in the lighted doorways. soon gone. Sweets of sin. organs. Absurd I am. in window embrasures. He might be mad. Waste of money. God help his gamekeeper. Better speak to him first. Chacun son gout. though. Still if bullet only went through my coat get damages for shock.) Odd! Molly drawing on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. Go or turn? And this food? Eat it and get all pigsticky. If I had passed Truelock’s window that day two minutes later would have been shot. (The retriever drives a cold snivelling muzzle against his hand. reading on the wall a scrawled chalk legend Wet Dream and a phallic design.Ulysses biz for cheapjacks. 813 of 1305 . Even that brute today. BLOOM: My spine’s a bit limp.

his long black tongue lolling out. He unrolls one parcel and goes to dump the crubeen softly but holds back and feels the trotter. Commit no nuisance. (With regret he lets the unrolled crubeen and trotter slide. Two raincaped watch approach. For Bloom. Of Bloom. 814 of 1305 .) THE WATCH: Bloom. (Calling encouraging words he shambles back with a furtive poacher’s tread.) Influence of his surroundings. Why? Smaller from want of use. Provided nobody. But then I have it in my left hand. rises hungrily from Liffey slime with Banbury cakes in their beaks. Give and have done with it.Ulysses Dogdays. (Each lays hand on Bloom’s shoulder.) FIRST WATCH: Caught in the act. crunching the bones. BLOOM: (Stammers) I am doing good to others.) Sizeable for threepence. Calls for more effort. Good fellow! Fido! Good fellow! Garryowen! (The wolfdog sprawls on his back. Bloom. Uncertain in his movements. dogged by the setter into a dark stalestunk corner.) THE GULLS: Kaw kave kankury kake. Two and six. (A covey of gulls. vigilant. let it slide. O. They murmur together. storm petrels. silent. The mastiff mauls the bundle clumsily and gluts himself with growling greed. wriggling obscenely with begging paws.

Bob Doran fills silently into an area. All tales of circus life are highly demoralising. Give us the paw. (Signor Maffei.Ulysses BLOOM: The friend of man. holding a circus paperhoop.) BOB DORAN: Towser. sways over the munching spaniel. even Leo ferox there. Trained by kindness. a gobbet of pig’s knuckle between his molars through which rabid scumspittle dribbles. (He points. Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your lion to heel. toppling from a high barstool. steps forward. BLOOM: (Enthusiastically) A noble work! I scolded that tramdriver on Harold’s cross bridge for illusing the poor horse with his harness scab.) SECOND WATCH: Prevention of cruelty to animals.) SIGNOR MAFFEI: (With a sinister smile) Ladies and gentlemen. a curling carriagewhip and a revolver with which he covers the gorging boarhound. passionpale. no matter how fractious. his scruff standing. Lash under the belly with a knotted thong. Bob Doran. in liontamer’s costume with diamond studs in his shirtfront. It was I broke in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent spiked saddle for carnivores. Bad French I got for my pains. (The bulldog growls. Of course it was frosty and the last tram. my educated greyhound. Give the paw. the 815 of 1305 .

FIRST WATCH: (Reads) Henry Flower. Umpteen millions. Egypt. You have heard of von Blum Pasha. SECOND WATCH: An alibi. No fixed abode. saluting) Dr Bloom. It was given me by a 816 of 1305 . the thinking hyena. My club is the Junior Army and Navy. (A card falls from inside the leather headband of Bloom’s hat. cadi’s dress coat with broad green sash. the pride of the ring.Ulysses Libyan maneater. dental surgeon. A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam. FIRST WATCH: Come. 27 Bachelor’s Walk. BLOOM: (Produces from his heartpocket a crumpled yellow flower) This is the flower in question. Unlawfully watching and besetting. BLOOM: I have forgotten for the moment. Cousin. The glint of my eye does it with these breastsparklers.) BLOOM: (In red fez. Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton. Name and address. Donnerwetter! Owns half Austria. Leopold. picks up the card hastily and offers it) Allow me. yes! (He takes off his high grade hat. (He glares) I possess the Indian sign. wearing a false badge of the Legion of Honour. FIRST WATCH: Proof. You are cautioned. Ah. (With a bewitching smile) I now introduce Mademoiselle Ruby.

plucking at his heart and lifting his right forearm on the square. You remember the Childs 817 of 1305 . (To the second watch gaily) I’ll introduce you. She’s game. you do get your Waterloo sometimes. then. thou lost one! Clear my name. Mistaken identity. Do it in the shake of a lamb’s tail. pointing) Henry! Leopold! Lionel. BLOOM: (Scared. Virag. light of love. Bloom. leading a veiled figure. sergeant. It’s a way we gallants have in the navy. Love entanglement. (He murmurs privately and confidentially) We are engaged you see. (He turns gravely to the first watch) Still. a crimson halter round her neck. Lesurques and Dubosc. Uniform that does it. The change of name. inspector. (He shoulders the second watch gently) Dash it all. (Plausibly) You know that old joke. a copy of the Irish Times in her hand. He was drummed out of the army. MARTHA: (Thickveiled. worshipful master. Lady in the case.) THE DARK MERCURY: The Castle is looking for him. (A dark mercurialised face appears. of course. in tone of reproach. no. The Lyons mail. Drop in some evening and have a glass of old Burgundy. rose of Castile. he gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft) No.Ulysses man I don’t know his name. steps back. FIRST WATCH: (Sternly) Come to the station. hats himself.

Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned. known the world over. By striking him dead with a hatchet. My real name is Peggy Griffin. let me explain. the salt of the earth. I think I see 818 of 1305 . one of Britain’s fighting men who helped to win our battles. I live in Eccles street. heartless flirt. We medical men. My wife. SECOND WATCH: (Tears in his eyes. The woman is inebriated. Majorgeneral Brian Tweedy. to Bloom) You ought to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself. boys. Got his majority for the heroic defence of Rorke’s Drift. BLOOM: Gentlemen of the jury. I am being made a scapegoat of. I’ll tell my brother. FIRST WATCH: Regiment.Ulysses fratricide case. I am wrongfully accused. I am the daughter of a most distinguished commander. I am a respectable married man. the Bective rugger fullback. (He murmurs vaguely the pass of Ephraim) Shitbroleeth. a gallant upstanding gentleman. He wrote to me that he was miserable. what do you call him. on you. BLOOM: (Behind his hand) She’s drunk. A pure mare’s nest. MARTHA: (Sobbing behind her veil) Breach of promise. BLOOM: (Turns to the gallery) The royal Dublins. I am a man misunderstood. without a stain on my character.

Ulysses some old comrades in arms up there among you. I am connected with the British and Irish press. I’m as staunch a Britisher as you are. P. F. as physique. something that is an entirely new departure. 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 Bloemfontein. I did all a white man could. in the service of our sovereign. If you ring up .. I follow a literary occupation. with our own Metropolitan police. Hold her nozzle again the bank. BLOOM: Well. FIRST WATCH: Profession or trade. The R. (Myles Crawford strides out jerkily. 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.. authorjournalist. In fact we are just bringing out a collection of prize stories of which I am the inventor. was mentioned in dispatches. His scarlet beak blazes within the aureole of his straw hat.) 819 of 1305 . a quill between his teeth. He dangles a hank of Spanish onions in one hand and holds with the other hand a telephone receiver nozzle to his ear. guardians of our homes. the pluckiest lads and the finest body of men. D. (With quiet feeling) Jim Bludso.. sir.

You which? Bluebags? Who writes? Is it Bloom? (Mr Philip Beaufoy. if I may . A soapy sneak masquerading as a litterateur. palefaced. BLOOM: (Murmurs with hangdog meekness glum) That bit about the laughing witch hand in hand I take exception to. no-one with the most rudimentary promptings of a gentleman would stoop to such particularly loathsome conduct. It’s perfectly obvious that with the most inherent baseness he has cribbed some of my bestselling copy. He carries a large portfolio labelled Matcham’s Masterstrokes. stands in the witnessbox. with which your lordship is doubtless familiar. are a household word throughout the kingdom. outbreast pocket with peak of handkerchief showing.. you aren’t. in accurate morning dress. No born gentleman. Hello. Freeman’s Urinal and Weekly Arsewipe here. really gorgeous stuff.Ulysses MYLES CRAWFORD: (His cock’s wattles wagging) Hello. my lord. One of those.) BEAUFOY: (Drawls) No. the love passages in which are beneath suspicion. The Beaufoy books of love and great possessions. I don’t see it that’s all. creased lavender trousers and patent boots. A plagiarist. Not by a long shot if I know it.. a perfect gem. Paralyse Europe. 820 of 1305 . seventyseven eightfour.

my lord. BEAUFOY: (Shouts) It’s a damnably foul lie. you! You’re too beastly awfully weird for words! I don’t think you need over excessively disincommodate yourself in that regard. look at the man’s private life! Leading a quadruple existence! Street 821 of 1305 . my lord. you rotter! (To the court) Why. Bad art. this jackdaw of Rheims. showing the moral rottenness of the man! (He extends his portfolio) We have here damning evidence. shan’t we? We are considerably out of pocket over this bally pressman johnny. Pinker is in attendance.Ulysses BEAUFOY: (His lip upcurled. we shall receive the usual witnesses’ fees. BLOOM: (Indistinctly) University of life. I presume. smiles superciliously on the court) You funny ass. who has not even been to a university. king of the jews. BLOOM: (Bravely) Overdrawn. a specimen of my maturer work disfigured by the hallmark of the beast. BEAUFOY: You low cad! You ought to be ducked in the horsepond. My literary agent Mr J. B. the corpus delicti. A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY: Moses. Moses. Wiped his arse in the Daily News.

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.) SECOND WATCH: Another! Are you of the unfortunate class? MARY DRISCOLL: (Indignantly) I’m not a bad one. heelless slippers. unshaven. how . approaches. scullerymaid! (Mary Driscoll. Play cricket. She has a bucket on the crook of her arm and a scouringbrush in her hand. flannel trousers. smart emerald garters far above your station. FIRST WATCH: The King versus Bloom. Incautiously I took your part when you were accused of pilfering.Ulysses angel and house devil. six pounds a year and my chances with Fridays out and I had to leave owing to his carryings on. Not fit to be mentioned in mixed society! The archconspirator of the age! BLOOM: (To the court) And he.. THE CRIER: Mary Driscoll.. I bear a respectable character and was four months in my last place. his hair rumpled: softly) I treated you white. 822 of 1305 . BLOOM: (In housejacket of ripplecloth. a slipshod servant girl. Call the woman Driscoll. There’s a medium in all things. a bachelor. I gave you mementos. I was in a situation.

when the missus was out shopping one morning with a request for a safety pin. to retrieve the memory of the past in a purely sisterly way and return to nature as a purely domestic animal. so I had. if he might say so. Your honour. MARY DRISCOLL: (Scornfully) I had more respect for the scouringbrush. (Bloom. BLOOM: She counterassaulted. though branded as a black sheep. A 823 of 1305 . pleading not guilty and holding a fullblown waterlily. Your lord. resonantly) Order in court! The accused will now make a bogus statement.Ulysses 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 premises. And he interfered twict with my clothing. and he remarked: keep it quiet. (General laughter. He held me and I was discoloured in four places as a result.) GEORGE FOTTRELL: (Clerk of the crown and peace. begins a long unintelligible speech. He was down and out but. They would hear what counsel had to say in his stirring address to the grand jury. I remonstrated with him. he meant to reform.

through 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 dozen... he had been carefully brought up and nurtured by an aged bedridden parent. greatest bargain ever . permeated by the affectionate surroundings of the heaving bosom of the family. a sacrifice. he had seen that summer eve from the footplate of an engine cab of the Loop line railway company while the rain refrained from falling glimpses. (Renewed laughter.) LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND: (Without looking up from their notebooks) Loosen his boots.Ulysses sevenmonths’ child. to lead a homely life in the evening of his days. youthful 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 bellows. innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to the Sacred Infant. 824 of 1305 . There might have been lapses of an erring father but he wanted to turn over a new leaf and now. He mumbles incoherently. as it were. when at long last in sight of the whipping post. An acclimatised Britisher. Reporters complain that they cannot hear.

The trumped up misdemeanour was due to a momentary aberration of heredity. Suffered untold misery. a poor foreign immigrant who started scratch as a stowaway and is now trying to turn an honest penny. (The crossexamination proceeds re Bloom and the bucket. yes. In Beaver street Gripe. Quite bad. Not completely. a strip of stickingplaster across his nose. Get it out in bits. A Titbits back number.) (Uproar and catcalls. O’MOLLOY: (In barrister’s grey wig and stuffgown. He did not look in the bucket Nobody. man.) J. speaking with a voice of pained protest) This is no place for indecent levity at the expense of an erring mortal disguised in liquor. Bloom himself. coughs and calls) Cough it up. My client is an infant. Crucial moment. some spinach. Bowel trouble. Prima facie. A plasterer&#x2019.Ulysses PROFESSOR MACHUGH: (From the presstable. I put it to you that there was no attempt at carnally 825 of 1305 . Love or burgundy. A large bucket. J. the land of the Pharaoh. We are not in a beargarden nor at an Oxford rag nor is this a travesty of justice. About noon. dinged silk hat sideways on his head. Rather a mess. Yes.s bucket. Deadly agony. talks inaudibly. such familiarities as the alleged guilty occurrence being quite permitted in my client’s native place. By walking stifflegged. Bloom in a torn frockcoat stained with whitewash. brought on by hallucination.

. O’MOLLOY: (Hotly to the populace) This is a lonehand fight. (He begins to lilt simply) Li li poo lil chile Blingee pigfoot evly night Payee two shilly . was not repeated. that her virtue was solicited. apologetic toes turned in. pigeonbreasted. opens his tiny mole’s eyes and looks about him dazedly. my lord. J. He himself. pointing one thumb heavenward. I would deal in especial with atavism.. By Hades. I will not have any client of 826 of 1305 . His submission is that he is of Mongolian extraction and irresponsible for his actions. 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. is a physical wreck from cobbler’s weak chest. (He is howled down. Then he hitches his belt sailor fashion and with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court. Not all there. BLOOM: (Barefoot. Intimacy did not occur and the offence complained of by Driscoll. in lascar’s vest and trousers.) Him makee velly muchee fine night. passing a slow hand across his forehead. There have been cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my client’s family. in fact.) J.Ulysses knowing.

without wishing for one moment to defeat the ends of justice. slides of which will now be shown. I say it and I say it emphatically.) I shall call rebutting evidence to prove up to the hilt that the hidden hand is again at its old game. accused was not accessory before the act and prosecutrix has not been tampered with.Ulysses mine gagged and badgered in this fashion by a pack of curs and laughing hyenas. O’Molloy’s hand and raises it to his lips. He is down on his luck at present owing to the mortgaging of his extensive property at Agendath Netaim in faraway Asia Minor. BLOOM: A penny in the pound. I regard him as the whitest man I know. (To Bloom) I suggest that you will do the handsome thing. J. had worked his own sweet will on her. (The image of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the wall. When in doubt persecute Bloom. The Mosaic code has superseded the law of the jungle. 827 of 1305 . Moses Dlugacz. (Bloom takes J. responsible for her condition. The young person was treated by defendant as if she were his very own daughter. an innately bashful man. He wants to go straight. would 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 dastard. My client.

W. in blue dungarees. (He assumes the avine head. stands up in the gallery. His face lengthens. sir 828 of 1305 . Mr V.O’MOLLOY: (Almost voicelessly) Excuse me. ex lord mayor of Dublin. Berlin. I am suffering from a severe chill. My old chief Joe Cuffe. (J. Messrs Callan. have recently come from a sickbed. Queens of Dublin society. Mr Wisdom Hely J. with sunken eyes. A few wellchosen words. Taylor.) BLOOM: (In court dress) Can give best references.13.Ulysses ferreteyed albino.) J.. the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John F.) DLUGACZ: (Hoarsely) Bleibtreustrasse. Dillon. O’Molloy steps on to a low plinth and holds the lapel of his coat with solemnity. (A paper with something written on it is handed into court.) 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. J. Coleman. B. (Carelessly) I was just chatting this afternoon at the viceregal lodge to my old pals. I have moved in the charmed circle of the highest .. P. foxy moustache and proboscidal eloquence of Seymour Bushe. grows pale and bearded.J. holding in each hand an orange citron and a pork kidney. He applies his handkerchief to his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood.

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. 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 829 of 1305 .. I believe it is the same objectionable person. I deeply inflamed him.Ulysses Robert and lady Ball. entitled The Girl with the Three Pairs of Stays. he said.. He wrote me an anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband was in the North Riding of Tipperary on the Munster circuit. wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman. wrapped up to the nose. I said . MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves. a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair) Arrest him. astronomer royal at the levee. constable. Dunsink time.m. steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff) Also to me. signed James Lovebirch. MRS BELLINGHAM: (In cap and seal coney mantle. Yes. He made improper overtures to me to misconduct myself at half past four p. on the following Thursday. Sir Bob. He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock.

in 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. my swelling calves in silk hose drawn up to the limit. when standing behind my chair wearing my livery and the armorial bearings of the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable. Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the heights. 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 person. a buck’s head couped or. as he said. and eulogised glowingly my other hidden 830 of 1305 .Ulysses of the wastepipe and the ballstop in my bath cistern were frozen. He lauded almost extravagantly my nether extremities.

practising illicit intercourse with a muscular torero. I have it still. He implored me to soil his letter in an unspeakable manner. jackboots cockspurred. vermilion waistcoat. It represents a partially nude señorita. taken by him from nature). hard hat. fawn musketeer gauntlets with braided drums. I know. to chastise him as he richly deserves. 831 of 1305 . as he solemnly assured me. evidently a blackguard. THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (In amazon costume. he said. This plebeian Don Juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph. such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards. to commit adultery at the earliest possible opportunity. insulting to any lady. long train held up and hunting crop with which she strikes her welt constantly) Also me. He urged me to do likewise. shone divinely as I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the Inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob Centaur. to misbehave. he could conjure up. My eyes. frail and lovely (his wife. Because he saw me on the polo ground of the Phoenix park at the match All Ireland versus the Rest of Ireland.Ulysses treasures in priceless lace which. He urged me (stating that he felt it his mission in life to urge me) to defile the marriage bed. to sin with officers of the garrison.

I’ll flay him alive. my fine fellow? Well. the 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.) THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Stamps her jingling spurs in a sudden paroxysm of fury) I will. MRS BELLINGHAM: Tan his breech well. (Several highly respectable Dublin ladies hold up improper letters received from Bloom. THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Laughs derisively) O. by the God above me. to give him a most vicious horsewhipping. THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: Very much so! I’ll make it hot for you. I’ll scourge the pigeonlivered cur as long as I can stand over him. Refined birching to stimulate the circulation. BLOOM: (His eyes closing. MRS BELLINGHAM: Me too. I’ll make you dance Jack Latten for that. by the 832 of 1305 . did you. quails expectantly) Here? (He squirms) Again! (He pants cringing) I love the danger.Ulysses to bestride and ride him. A warm tingling glow without effusion. I meant only the spanking idea. MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Me too.

You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury. Thrash the mongrel within an inch of his life. Hanna dear. Forget. (She swishes her huntingcrop savagely in the air) Take down his trousers without loss of time. believe me. joins his hands: with hangdog mien) O cold! O shivery! It was your ambrosial beauty. forgive. The cat-o’-nine-tails. shrinking. Give him ginger. Geld him.Ulysses living God. Kismet. I’ll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. Pigdog and always was ever since he was pupped! To dare address me! I’ll flog him black and blue in the public streets. Let me off this once. Mrs Talboys! He should be soundly trounced! THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Unbuttoning her gauntlet violently) I’ll do no such thing. He is a wellknown cuckold. Vivisect him. Come here. BLOOM: (Shuddering. the most unmerciful hiding a man ever bargained for. MRS BELLINGHAM: (Shakes her muff and quizzingglasses vindictively) Make him smart. sir! Quick! Ready? 833 of 1305 . you’ll get the surprise of your life now. (He offers the other cheek) MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Severely) Don’t do so on any account.

Jigjag.) DAVY STEPHENS: Messenger of the Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph with Saint Patrick’s Day supplement. (The very reverend Canon O’Hanlon in cloth of gold cope elevates and exposes a marble timepiece. Simon Dedalus. revealing rapidly in the jurybox the faces of Martin Cunningham. Containing the new addresses of all the cuckolds in Dublin. foreman. Ned Lambert. passes with a bevy of barefoot newsboys. (A panel of fog rolls back rapidly. Before him Father Conroy and the reverend John Hughes S. Jigajiga.) THE TIMEPIECE: (Unportalling) Cuckoo. silkhatted. Cuckoo. Cuckoo. bend low. beginning to obey) The weather has been so warm. (Davy Stephens. M’Coy and the featureless face of a Nameless One.Ulysses BLOOM: (Trembling. Nosey Flynn. John Henry Menton Myles Crawford. Lenehan. ringletted. Jack Power.) THE QUOITS: Jigjag. Paddy Leonard. Tom Kernan. (The brass quoits of a bed are heard to jingle.) 834 of 1305 .J.

THE JURORS: (All their heads turned to his voice) Really? THE NAMELESS ONE: (Snarls) Arse over tip. sir Frederick Falkiner. Gob.) THE RECORDER: I will put an end to this white slave traffic and rid Dublin of this odious pest. bigamist. From his forehead arise starkly the Mosaic ramshorns. THE CRIER: (Loudly) Whereas Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a wellknown dynamitard. (His Honour. THE JURORS: (All their heads lowered in assent) Most of us thought as much.Ulysses THE NAMELESS ONE: Bareback riding. Wanted: Jack the Ripper. stonebearded. Scandalous! 835 of 1305 . forger. A mormon.. whispers) And in black. bawd and cuckold and a public nuisance to the citizens of Dublin and whereas at this commission of assizes the most honourable . He bears in his arms an umbrella sceptre. Weight for age. A thousand pounds reward. SECOND WATCH: (Awed. in judicial garb of grey stone rises from the bench. FIRST WATCH: He is a marked man.. Hundred shillings to five. recorder of Dublin. he organised her. Anarchist. Another girl’s plait cut.

knobbed with knuckledusters.) (The subsheriff Long John Fanning appears. Zoo. in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner’s apron. Neck or nothing. Lewd chimpanzee. the Mersey terror. Gulls. Five guineas a jugular. (Breathlessly) Pelvic basin. (A black skullcap descends upon his head. Girl in the monkeyhouse.) RUMBOLD: (To the recorder with sinister familiarity) Hanging Harry. Rumbold.) LONG JOHN FANNING: (Scowls and calls with rich rolling utterance) Who’ll hang Judas Iscariot? (H. mounts the block. from 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. I saw. Her artless blush 836 of 1305 . a rope coiled over his shoulder. Remove him. Stop. He rubs grimly his grappling hands. smoking a pungent Henry Clay. Good heart. master barber.Ulysses (He dons the black cap) Let him be taken. Mr Subsheriff.) THE BELLS: Heigho! Heigho! BLOOM: (Desperately) Wait. your Majesty. (The bells of George’s church toll slowly. loud dark iron. Innocence. A life preserver and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in his belt.

showing the grey scorbutic face of Paddy Dignam. It was my funeral. (Overcome with emotion) I left the precincts. He has gnawed all. BLOOM: No. I am Paddy Dignam’s spirit. If you want a little more .. I was at a funeral. appealing) Hynes.) PADDY DIGNAM: (In a hollow voice) It is true. O list! 837 of 1305 . Half of one ear. (He turns to a figure in the crowd. all the nose and both thumbs are ghouleaten. may I speak to you? You know me. His green eye flashes bloodshot. SECOND WATCH: (Points to the corner) The bomb is here.. list. His dachshund coat becomes a brown mortuary habit. List. He exhales a putrid carcasefed breath. (He lifts his mutilated ashen face moonwards and bays lugubriously. Pig’s feet. FIRST WATCH: (Draws his truncheon) Liar! (The beagle lifts his snout. FIRST WATCH: Infernal machine with a time fuse. Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease from natural causes. no. That three shillings you can keep. He grows to human size and shape. HYNES: (Coldly) You are a perfect stranger.Ulysses unmanned me.) BLOOM: (In triumph) You hear? PADDY DIGNAM: Bloom.

That buttermilk didn’t agree with me. How is she bearing it? Keep her off that bottle of sherry. The poor wife was awfully cut up. PADDY DIGNAM: (Earnestly) Once I was in the employ of Mr J. I must satisfy an animal need. Spooks. of 27 Bachelor’s Walk. holding sleepily a staff twisted poppies. Patrick T. chaplain. Hard lines. SECOND WATCH: (Blesses himself) How is that possible? FIRST WATCH: It is not in the penny catechism. 838 of 1305 . Amen. then chants with a hoarse croak) Namine. (He looks round him) A lamp.) FATHER COFFEY: (Yawns. the wall of the heart hypertrophied. JOHN O’CONNELL: (Foghorns stormily through his megaphone) Dignam. H. Vobiscuits. in a surplice and bandanna nightcap. commissioner for oaths and affidavits. Beside him stands Father Coffey. holding a bunch of keys tied with crape.Ulysses BLOOM: The voice is the voice of Esau. wrynecked. Now I am defunct. Menton. A VOICE: O rocks. solicitor. caretaker. PADDY DIGNAM: By metempsychosis. (The portly figure of John O’Connell. stands forth. Jacobs. deceased. toadbellied.

bows) Reuben J. Dignam’s voice. (Paddy Dignam listens with visible effort. eightyfive thousand. his tail stiffpointcd. his brown habit trailing its tether over rattling pebbles. Plot. He stands before 839 of 1305 . (He worms down through a coalhole.Ulysses PADDY DIGNAM: (With pricked up ears. (He executes a daredevil salmon leap in the air and is engulfed in the coalhole. eyes of nought. robinredbreasted. Tom Rochford. in cap and breeches. (He wriggles forward and places an ear to the ground) My master’s voice! JOHN O’CONNELL: Burial docket letter number U. thinking. one hundred and one. A florin I find him. P. All recedes. jumps from his twocolumned machine.) PADDY DIGNAM: Pray for the repose of his soul. Bloom plodges forward again through the sump.) TOM ROCHFORD: (A hand to his breastbone. winces) Overtones. House of Keys. Kisses chirp amid the rifts of fog a piano sounds. (He fixes the manhole with a resolute stare) My turn now on. muffled. Field seventeen. After him toddles an obese grandfather rat on fungus turtle paws under a grey carapace. is heard baying under ground: Dignam’s dead and gone below. Two discs on the columns wobble. his ears cocked. Follow me up to Carlow.

are you? BLOOM: Not I! 840 of 1305 . twittering. Perhaps here. Working overtime but her luck’s turned today. eightyone. alight.Ulysses a lighted house. bright giddy flecks. flutter upon his garments. Mrs Cohen’s. silvery sequins.) THE KISSES: (Warbling) Leo! (Twittering) Icky licky micky sticky for Leo! (Cooing) Coo coocoo! Yummyyum. nods.) BLOOM: A man’s touch. Womwom! (Warbling) Big comebig! Pirouette! Leopopold! (Twittering) Leeolee! (Warbling) O Leo! (They rustle. (Suspiciously) You’re not his father. You might go farther and fare worse. (Zoe Higgins. cooing. Mother Slipperslapper. a young whore in a sapphire slip. a slim black velvet fillet round her throat. warbling. Church music.) ZOE: Are you looking for someone? He’s inside with his friend. trips down the steps and accosts him. The kisses. BLOOM: Is this Mrs Mack’s? ZOE: No. listening. Sad music. winging from their bowers fly about him. (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. closed with three bronze buckles.

ZOE: For Zoe? For keeps? For being so nice. I suppose. BLOOM: (Forlornly) I never loved a dear gazelle but it was sure to .) ZOE: You’ll know me the next time. note by note. ZOE: (In sudden alarm) You’ve a hard chancre. eh? (She puts the potato greedily into a pocket then links his arm. Heirloom. His smile softens.Ulysses ZOE: You both in black. A hand glides over his left thigh.. says. Mesias. ringed with kohol. 841 of 1305 . He gazes in the tawny crystal of her eyes. cuddling him with supple warmth. He smiles uneasily. Slowly.. alert. She regards it and Bloom with dumb moist lips. One in a million my tailor. (Her hand slides into his left trouser pocket and brings out a hard black shrivelled potato. oriental music is played.) ZOE: How’s the nuts? BLOOM: Off side. ZOE: I feel it. feels her fingertips approach. BLOOM: Not likely. Curiously they are on the right.) BLOOM: A talisman. Heavier. Has little mousey any tickles tonight? (His skin.

sending on him a cloying breath of stale garlic. lust. A wine of shame. The roses draw apart. Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves. disclose a sepulchre of the gold of kings and their mouldering bones. a strong hairgrowth of resin. in luxury.) ZOE: (Murmuring singsong with the music. still. ZOE: And you know what thought did? (She bites his ear gently with little goldstopped teeth. A fountain murmurs among damask roses. cool. strangely murmuring. It burns. blood exudes. Aroma rises. white.) BLOOM: (Draws back. Under it lies the womancity nude. Near are lakes. the orient.Ulysses (Gazelles are leaping. her odalisk lips lusciously smeared with salve of swinefat and rosewater) Schorach ani wenowach. Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes. I’m English. mechanically 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. BLOOM: (Fascinated) I thought you were of good stock by your accent. Have you a swaggerroot? 842 of 1305 . cleft by the bronze flight of eagles. feeding on the mountains. benoith Hierushaloim. a sky of sapphire.

I say. heart. the one a killer of pestilence by absorption. eye. All our habits. from the cattlemarket to the river. Lies. That’s my programme. Inns Quay. Rotunda. That’s the music of the future. BLOOM: (In workman’s corduroy overalls. Mountjoy and North Dock. Cigar now and then. all.Ulysses BLOOM: (As before) Rarely smoke. black gansy with red floating tie and apache cap) Mankind is incorrigible. dear. memory. Cui bono? But our bucaneering Vanderdeckens in their phantom ship of finance . That is to say he brought the poison a hundred years before another person whose name I forget brought the food. look at our public life! (Midnight chimes from distant steeples.. Leopold! Lord mayor of Dublin! BLOOM: (In alderman’s gown and chain) Electors of Arran Quay..) THE CHIMES: Turn again. ZOE: Go on. Why. better run a tramline. the other a poisoner of the ear. Make a stump speech out of it. (Lewdly) The mouth can be better engaged than with a cylinder of rank weed. Childish device. Sir Walter Ralegh brought from the new world that potato and that weed. will understanding. Suicide. AN ELECTOR: Three times three for our future chief magistrate! 843 of 1305 .

imposing in mayoral scarlet. their panacea. The poor 844 of 1305 . They nod vigorously in agreement. Timothy Harrington. confers with councillor Lorcan Sherlock.) THE TORCHBEARERS: Hooray! (Several wellknown burgesses. supplanters.) LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: (In scarlet robe with mace. their chimera. manufactured monsters for mutual murder. gold chain and white silk tie. hideous hobgoblins produced by a horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted labour. late thrice Lord Mayor of Dublin.Ulysses (The aurora borealis of the torchlight procession leaps. casting dice. COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: Carried unanimously. bugbears. 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. what reck they? Machines is their cry. Laboursaving apparatuses. locum tenens. city magnates and freemen of the city shake hands with Bloom and congratulate him. BLOOM: (Impassionedly) These flying Dutchmen or lying Dutchmen as they recline in their upholstered poop. gold mayoral chain and large white silk scarf) That alderman sir Leo Bloom’s speech be printed at the expense of the ratepayers.

chimneypots. their worships the mayors of Limerick. city marshal. A streamer bearing the legends Cead Mile Failte and Mah Ttob Melek Israel Spans the street. grandees 845 of 1305 . keep back the crowd. railings. Galway.. Sligo and Waterford. The van of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell. Venetian masts. whistling and cheering the pillar of the cloud appears. They are followed by the Right Honourable Joseph Hutchinson. The chryselephantine papal standard rises high. sirdars. Along the route the regiments of the royal Dublin Fusiliers. twentyeight Irish representative peers. in a chessboard tabard. trailing banners and waving oriental palms. But their reign is rover for rever and ever and ev . the King’s own Scottish Borderers. telegraph poles. (Prolonged applause. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted. gutters. A fife and drum band is heard in the distance playing the Kol Nidre. his lordship the lord mayor of Cork. surrounded by pennons of the civic flag. maypoles and festal arches spring up. rainspouts. windowsills. chiefly ladies.. cornices. lord mayor of Dublin.Ulysses man starves while they are grassing their royal mountain stags or shooting peasants and phartridges in their purblind pomp of pelf and power. the Cameron Highlanders and the Welsh Fusiliers standing to attention. Boys from High school are perched on the lampposts. the Athlone Poursuivant and Ulster King of Arms. All the windows are thronged with sightseers.

the high constable carrying the sword of state. lard refiners. egg and potato factors. the most reverend Dr William Alexander. millwrights. assessors of fire losses. the chief rabbi. His Grace. the lord great chamberlain. lapidaries. hosiers and glovers. horse repository hands. winding clarions of welcome. tabinet and poplin weavers. cricket and archery outfitters. the master of horse. newspaper canvassers. Four buglers on foot blow a sennet. the bishop of Down and Connor. bootjack manufacturers. corkcutters. After them march the guilds and trades and trainbands with flying colours: coopers. the Dublin Metropolitan Fire Brigade. the chapter of the saints of finance in their plutocratic order of precedence. farriers. church decorators. trussmakers. Under an arch of 846 of 1305 . After them march gentlemen of the bedchamber. primate of all Ireland. bullion brokers. ticketwriters. vintners. Black Rod. heraldic seal engravers. Gold Stick. bird fanciers. riddlemakers.Ulysses and maharajahs bearing the cloth of estate. plumbing contractors. masseurs. primate of all Ireland. methodist and Moravian chapels and the honorary secretary of the society of friends. chimneysweeps. anabaptist. law scriveners. Beefeaters reply. dyers and cleaners. salesmasters. archbishop of Armagh. Italian warehousemen. His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue. fellmongers. the heads of the baptist. the presbyterian moderator. the earl marshal. export bottlers. Deputy Garter. undertakers. the chalice and bible. saint Stephen’s iron crown. archbishop of Armagh. silk mercers.

the world’s greatest reformer. the curtana. Bloom’s boys run amid the bystanders with branches of hawthorn and wrenbushes. A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: That’s the famous Bloom now. bearing Saint Edward’s staff the orb and sceptre with the dove. The air is perfumed with essences. Hats off! (All uncover their heads. the wren. The king of all birds. The men cheer. The ladies from their balconies throw down rosepetals.) BLOOM’S BOYS: The wren. in a crimson velvet mantle trimmed with ermine.Ulysses triumph Bloom appears. A BLACKSMITH: (Murmurs) For the honour of God! And is that Bloom? He scarcely looks thirtyone. with golden headstall. Saint Stephen’s his day Was caught in the furze. He is seated on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail. Women whisper eagerly. Wild excitement. richly caparisoned.) A MILLIONAIRESS: (Richly) Isn’t he simply wonderful? A NOBLEWOMAN: (Nobly) All that man has seen! A FEMINIST: (Masculinely) And done! 847 of 1305 . bareheaded.

The representative peers put on at the same time their twentyeight 848 of 1305 . be thou anointed! (Bloom assumes a mantle of cloth of gold and puts on a ruby ring.) THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: I here present your undoubted emperor-president and kingchairman. the most serene and potent and very puissant ruler of this realm. swears) So may the Creator deal with me. (Bloom’s weather. Patrick. A sunburst appears in the northwest. Leopold. WILLIAM. to the bishop of Down and Connor. All this I promise to do. David. somewhat eminent sir. with dignity) Thanks. Andrew. ARCHBISHOP 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 testicles. MICHAEL. Habemus carneficem. ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Pours a cruse of hairoil over Bloom’s head) Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis.Ulysses A BELLHANGER: A classic face! He has the forehead of a thinker. God save Leopold the First! ALL: God save Leopold the First! BLOOM: (In dalmatic and purple mantle. George. He ascends and stands on the stone of destiny.

(The former morganatic spouse of Bloom is hastily removed in the Black Maria.) THE PEERS: I do become your liege man of life and limb to earthly worship. An outburst of cheering. in moonblue robes. The peers do homage. Saint Patrick’s. Immediate silence. borne by two giants. descends from a Sedan chair. a silver crescent on her head.) 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 Selene. (Bloom holds up his right hand on which sparkles the Koh-iNoor diamond. George’s and gay Malahide. approaching and genuflecting. one by one. Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from all sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs. His palfrey neighs. The princess Selene. Joybells ring in Christ church. the splendour of night.Ulysses crowns.) JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: (Raises the royal standard) Illustrious Bloom! Successor to my famous brother! 849 of 1305 . Wireless intercontinental and interplanetary transmitters are set for reception of message.

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 and. for this right royal welcome to green Erin. are given to him. John. A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: Bravo! AN OLD RESIDENT: You’re a credit to your country. Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his lines with telling effect. sir. The keys of Dublin. uttering their warcry Bonafide Sabaoth.Ulysses BLOOM: (Embraces John Howard Parnell) We thank you from our heart. BLOOM: On this day twenty years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith. your honour. THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: Hear! Hear! JOHN WYSE NOLAN: There’s the man that got away James Stephens. (The freedom of the city is presented to him embodied in a charter. He shows all that he is wearing green socks. 850 of 1305 . that’s what you are. AN APPLEWOMAN: He’s a man like Ireland wants. crossed on a crimson cushion.) TOM KERNAN: You deserve it. sabred the Saracen gunners to a man. the promised land of our common ancestors.

(They die) (A man in a brown macintosh springs up through a trapdoor. Bloom.) THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH: Don’t you believe a word he says. Yea. B. His real name is Higgins. I. He points an elongated finger at Bloom. collapses. a new era is about to dawn. The inhabitants are lodged in barrels and boxes. A part of the walls of Dublin. on the word of a Bloom. tell you verily it is even now at hand. In the course of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished. Numerous houses are razed to the ground. the new Bloomusalem in the Nova Hibernia of the future. Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds. from all the counties of Ireland. under the guidance of Derwan the builder. It is a colossal edifice with crystal roof. (Thirtytwo workmen. That man is Leopold M’Intosh. ye shall ere long enter into the golden city which is to be. wearing rosettes. crowded with loyal sightseers.) THE SIGHTSEERS: (Dying) Morituri te salutant. several paupers fill from a ladder. built in the shape of a huge pork kidney. 851 of 1305 . containing forty thousand rooms. all marked in red with the letters: L.Ulysses BLOOM: My beloved subjects. the notorious fireraiser. construct the new Bloomusalem.

Who’s Who in Space (astric). Was Jesus a Sun Myth? (historic). 40 days’ indulgences. A general rush and scramble. are reported. free cowbones for soup. temperance badges. dairyfed pork sausages. billets doux in the form of cocked hats. Bloom with his sceptre strikes down poppies. Infant’s Compendium of the Universe (cosmic). season tickets available for all tramlines. coupons of the royal and privileged Hungarian lottery. Care of the Baby (infantilic). Women press forward to touch the hem of Bloom’s robe. The instantaneous deaths of many powerful enemies. butter scotch. rubber preservatives in sealed envelopes tied with gold thread. commemoration medals. loaves and fishes.Ulysses BLOOM: Shoot him! Dog of a christian! So much for M’Intosh! (A cannonshot. Bloom’s bodyguard distribute Maundy money. Loveletters of Mother Assistant (erotic). graziers. Songs that Reached Our Heart (melodic). bottles of Jeyes’ Fluid. porringers of toad in the hole. members of parliament. Canvasser’s Vade Mecum (journalic). theatre passes. purchase stamps. The man in the macintosh disappears. Expel that Pain (medic). members of standing committees. expensive Henry Clay cigars. pineapple rock. readymade suits. Pennywise’s Way to Wealth (parsimonic). cheap reprints of the World’s Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz (politic). Let’s All Chortle (hilaric). spurious coins. penny dinner counters. 50 Meals for 7/6 (culinic). The 852 of 1305 .

pokes Baby Boardman gently in the stomach. 32 feet per second.) BABY BOARDMAN: (Hiccups. indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his mouth) Roygbiv. green. draws red. Babes and sucklings are held up.Ulysses Lady Gwendolen Dubedat bursts through the throng.) THE WOMEN: Little father! Little father! THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS: Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home. 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 tricks. (He consoles a widow) Absence makes the heart grow younger. 853 of 1305 . curdled milk flowing from his mouth) Hajajaja. Cakes in his pocket for Leo alone. A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken. yellow. orange. (He dances the Highland fling with grotesque antics) Leg it. ye devils! (He kisses the bedsores of a palsied veteran) Honourable wounds! (He trips up a fit policeman) U. bending down. blue. leaps on his horse and kisses him on both cheeks amid great acclamation. (Bloom.

Free medical and legal advice. brushes aside a tear in his emerald muffler) May the good God bless him! (The rams’ horns sound for silence.) BLOOM: (Uncloaks impressively. girls! THE CITIZEN: (Choked with emotion.Ulysses p: up. p: up. boys! Wriggle it. assistant town clerk.) JIMMY HENRY: The Court of Conscience is now open. naughty. farmer) Fine! Splendid! (He refuses to accept three shillings offered him by Joseph Hynes. The standard of Zion is hoisted. (An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry. Given at 854 of 1305 . (He whispers in the ear of a blushing waitress and laughs kindly) Ah. solution of doubles and other problems. journalist) My dear fellow. (He takes part in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples) Come on. His Most Catholic Majesty will now administer open air justice. unrolls a paper and reads solemnly) Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim Meshuggah Talith. All cordially invited. U. revealing obesity. naughty! (He eats a raw turnip offered him by Maurice Butterly. not at all! (He gives his coat to a beggar) Please accept.

Ulysses this our loyal city of Dublin in the year I of the Paradisiacal Era.. my friend. hydrochlor. 855 of 1305 . dil. 20 minims Tinct. nit. take 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. PADDY LEONARD: What am I to do about my rates and taxes? BLOOM: Pay them. NOSEY FLYNN: Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance? BLOOM: (Obdurately) Sirs. ter in die. J. dis. 30 minims.. taraxel. nux vom. iiq. Aq.. 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. PADDY LEONARD: Thank you. 5 minims Extr.

K. BLOOM: (Coldly) You have the advantage of me. 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. CROFTON: This is indeed a festivity. I call it a sacrament. BLOOM: (Solemnly) You call it a festivity. dad) starts thinking. You remember me. BEN DOLLARD: When twins arrive? BLOOM: Father (pater. Lady Bloom accepts no presents. LARRY O’ROURKE: An eightday licence for my new premises. 856 of 1305 .Ulysses CHRIS CALLINAN: What is the parallax of the subsolar ecliptic of Aldebaran? BLOOM: Pleased to hear from you. I’m sending around a dozen of stout for the missus. Chris. 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. II. when you were in number seven. sir Leo.

bonuses for all.) 857 of 1305 . lunacy. Manufacture. also naked. Saloon motor hearses. Free money. Compulsory manual labour for all. Private Hygiene. Operatic Music. No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors. free love and a free lay church in a free lay state. O’MADDEN BURKE: Free fox in a free henroost. weekly carnival with masked licence. Venus Metempsychosis. Commerce. Publicity. esperanto the universal language with universal brotherhood. Electric dishscrubbers. Painless Obstetrics and Astronomy for the People. DAVY BYRNE: (Yawning) Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach! BLOOM: Mixed races and mixed marriage. representing the new nine muses. jew. LENEHAN: What about mixed bathing? (bloom explains to those near him his schemes for social regeneration. The keeper of the Kildare Street Museum appears. Gastronomy. Liberty of Speech. Amor. Venus Callipyge.Ulysses Union of all. Tuberculosis. General amnesty. moslem and gentile. Plural Voting. dragging a lorry on which are the shaking statues of several naked goddesses. Venus Pandemos. All agree with him. free rent. and plaster figures. Three acres and a cow for all children of nature. All parks open to the public day and night. war and mendicancy must now cease. Seaside Concert Entertainments.

With my tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom.) LENEHAN: Plagiarist! Down with Bloom! THE VEILED SIBYL: (Enthusiastically) I’m a Bloomite and I glory in it. HOPPY HOLOHAN: Good old Bloom! There’s nobody like him after all.(Laughter. BLOOM: (With rollicking humour) I vowed that I never would leave her.Ulysses FATHER FARLEY: He is an episcopalian. PADDY LEONARD: Stage Irishman! BLOOM: What railway opera is like a tramline in Gibraltar? The Rows of Casteele. 858 of 1305 . She turned out a cruel deceiver. the funniest man on earth. Bloom. I’d give my life for him. 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 tune. One of the old sweet songs. an anythingarian seeking to overthrow our holy faith. an agnostic. I believe in him in spite of all.

from the top of Nelson’s Pillar. refusing food. drowning. leaping from windows of different storeys. A worshipper of the Scarlet Woman. with a dissolute granddam. intrigue is the very breath of his nostrils. THE VEILED SIBYL: (Stabs herself) My hero god! (She dies) (Many most attractive and enthusiastic women also commit suicide by stabbing. the man called Bloom is from the roots of hell. a disgrace to christian men.) ALEXANDER J DOWIE: (ViolentlY) Fellowchristians and antiBloomites. This vile hypocrite. bronzed with infamy.Ulysses BLOOM: (Winks at the bystanders) I bet she’s a bonny lassie. A fiendish libertine from his earliest years this stinking goat of Mendes gave precocious signs of infantile debauchery. is the white bull mentioned in the Apocalypse. drinking prussic acid. arsenic. recalling the cities of the plain. casting themselves under steamrollers. aconite. into the great vat of Guinness’s brewery. hanging themselves in stylish garters. asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads in gasovens. opening their veins. The 859 of 1305 . THEODORE PUREFOY: (In fishingcap and oilskin jacket) He employs a mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of nature.

Several shopkeepers from upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial value. the viper. Traces of elephantiasis have been discovered among his ascendants. I am guiltless as the unsunned snow! It was my brother Henry. Dr Malachi Mulligan. the consequence of unbridled lust. to give medical testimony on my behalf. By heaven. Ambidexterity is also latent.Ulysses stake faggots and the caldron of boiling oil are for him. green motorgoggles on his brow) Dr Bloom is bisexually abnormal.) BLOOM: (Excitedly) This is midsummer madness. odd pieces of fat. He is my double. Born out of bedlock hereditary epilepsy is present. sgenl inn ban bata coisde gan capall. I call on my old friend. some ghastly joke again. He lives in number 2 Dolphin’s Barn. stale bread. Fellowcountrymen. He is prematurely bald from 860 of 1305 . has wrongfully accused me. unsaleable cabbage. hambones. Caliban! THE MOB: Lynch him! Roast him! He’s as bad as Parnell was. Mr Fox! (Mother Grogan throws her boot at Bloom. condensed milk tins. Slander. sex specialist. DR MULLIGAN: (In motor jerkin. There are marked symptoms of chronic exhibitionism. sheep’s tails. He has recently escaped from Dr Eustace’s private asylum for demented gentlemen.

pectoral and pubic hairs. He is a rather quaint fellow on the whole. In consequence of a family complex he has temporarily lost his memory and I believe him to be more sinned against than sinning. DR PUNCH COSTELLO: The fetor judaicus is most perceptible. His moral nature is simple and lovable. axillary. Salivation is insufficient. and has metal teeth. He has written a really beautiful letter. the patellar reflex intermittent. DR DIXON: (Reads a bill of health) Professor Bloom is a finished example of the new womanly man. Many have found him a dear man. after application of the acid test to 5427 anal. I have made a pervaginal examination and. a reformed rake. It is albuminoid. (Bloom holds his high grade hat over his genital organs. coy though not feebleminded in the medical sense. I declare him to be virgo intacta. a dear person. In the interest of coming generations I suggest that the parts affected should be preserved in spirits of wine in the national teratological museum.Ulysses selfabuse. DR CROTTHERS: I have examined the patient’s urine. to the court missionary of the Reformed Priests’ Protection 861 of 1305 .) DR MADDEN: Hypsospadia is also marked. perversely idealistic in consequence. a poem in itself.

They appear on a redcarpeted staircase adorned with expensive plants. (General commotion and compassion. He is about to have a baby. I appeal for clemency in the name of the most sacred word our vocal organs have ever been called upon to speak. He is practically a total abstainer and I can affirm that he sleeps on a straw litter and eats the most Spartan food. MRS THORNTON: (In nursetender’s gown) Embrace me tight. speaking five modern languages fluently and interested in various arts and sciences.) BLOOM: O. necklaces and bracelets are rapidly collected. dear. banknotes. All the octuplets are handsome. watchchains. Women faint.Ulysses Society which clears up everything. He wears a hairshirt of pure Irish manufacture winter and summer and scourges himself every Saturday. lockets. cold dried grocer’s peas. You’ll be soon over it. at one time a firstclass misdemeanant in Glencree reformatory. (Bloom embraces her tightly and bears eight male yellow and white children. treasury bonds. U’s. A wealthy American makes a street collection for Bloom. maturing bills of exchange. wedding rings. Tight. Gold and silver coins. I understand. Another report states that he was a very posthumous child. respectably dressed and wellconducted. O. Each has his name printed 862 of 1305 . jewels. wellmade. I. with valuable metallic faces. I so want to be a mother. blank cheques. dear. He was.

Moses Maimonides. eclipses the sun by extending his little finger. hangs from the top ledge by his eyelids. Robinson Crusoe. Moses of Egypt. Lord Byron.) A VOICE: Bloom. Goldfinger. contracts his face so as to resemble many historical personages. Jean Jacques Rousseau. Silversmile. turns each foot simultaneously in different directions. Kossuth. Panargyros. Lord Beaconsfield. bids the tide turn back. climbs Nelson’s Pillar. Chrysostomos. They are immediately appointed to positions of high public trust in several different countries as managing directors of banks. passes through several walls.) 863 of 1305 . Wat Tyler. (Bloom walks on a net. chairmen of limited liability companies. vicechairmen of hotel syndicates. eats twelve dozen oysters (shells included). BROTHER BUZZ: Then perform a miracle like Father Charles. BANTAM LYONS: Prophesy who will win the Saint Leger. Silberselber. traffic managers of railways. Vifargent. Henry Irving. Maindoree. are you the Messiah ben Joseph or ben David? BLOOM: (Darkly) You have said it.Ulysses in legible letters on his shirtfront: Nasodoro. Moses Mendelssohn. heals several sufferers from king’s evil. Sherlock Holmes. Pasteur. covers his left eye with his left ear. Baron Leopold Rothschild. Rip van Winkle.

steel cuirasses as breastplate. PAPAL NUNCIO: (In papal zouave’s uniform. 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 Ichabudonosor begat O’Donnell Magnus and O’Donnell Magnus begat Christbaum and Christbaum begat ben Maimun and ben Maimun begat Dusty Rhodes and Dusty Rhodes begat Benamor and Benamor begat Jones-Smith and JonesSmith begat Savorgnanovich and Savorgnanovich begat Jasperstone and Jasperstone begat Vingtetunieme and Vingtetunieme begat Szombathely and Szombathely begat Virag and Virag begat Bloom et vocabitur nomen eius Emmanuel. thighplates.Ulysses BRINI. 864 of 1305 . armplates. large profane moustaches and brown paper mitre) Leopoldi autem generatio. legplates. A DEADHAND: (Writes on the wall) Bloom is a cod.

865 of 1305 . his feet protruding. joining hands. you hog. three tears filling from his left eye) Spare my past.Ulysses CRAB: (In bushranger’s kit) What did you do in the cattlecreep behind Kilbarrack? A FEMALE INFANT: (Shakes a rattle) And under Ballybough bridge? A HOLLYBUSH: And in the devil’s glen? BLOOM: (Blushes furiously all over from frons to nates. with Donnybrook fair shillelaghs) Sjambok him! (Bloom with asses’ ears seats himself in the pillory with crossed arms. THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: (In bodycoats.) THE ARTANE ORPHANS: You hig. caper round him. He whistles Don Giovanni. Girls of the Prison Gate Mission. a cenar teco. kneebreeches. caper round in the opposite direction. you dirty dog! You think the ladies love you! THE PRISON GATE GIRLS: If you see Kay Tell him he may See you in tea Tell him from me. Artane orphans. joining hands.

Nip the first rattler. Bloom’s tailor. and to Lilith. bad shepherd. Poor Bloom! (Reuben J Dodd. They wag their beards at Bloom. wearing long earlocks. blackbearded iscariot. appears. And they shall stone him and defile him. the spirit which is in the wilderness.) REUBEN J: (Whispers hoarsely) The squeak is out. BLOOM: (Rubs his hands cheerfully) Just like old times. A split is gone for the flatties. Many bonafide travellers and ownerless dogs come near him and defile him. (All the people cast soft pantomime stones at Bloom.Ulysses HORNBLOWER: (In ephod and huntingcap. Mastiansky and Citron approach in gaberdines. yea. bearing on his shoulders the drowned corpse of his son. announces) And he shall carry the sins of the people to Azazel. approaches the pillory. the nighthag. THE FIRE BRIGADE: Pflaap! 866 of 1305 . presenting a bill) MESIAS: To alteration one pair trousers eleven shillings.) MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: Belial! Laemlein of Istria. the land of Ham. all from Agendath Netaim and from Mizraim. a tailor’s goose under his arm. the false Messiah! Abulafia! Recant! (George R Mesias.

O daughters of Erin. kneel down and pray. He places a bag of gunpowder round his neck and hands him over to the civil power. in black garments. pray for us Reprover of the Citizen. with large prayerbooks and long lighted candles in their hands. pray for us Friend of all Frillies.) THE CITIZEN: Thank heaven! BLOOM: (In a seamless garment marked I. saying) Forgive him his trespasses. pray for us Charitable Mason. pray for us Mentor of Menton. (Lieutenant Myers of the Dublin Fire Brigade by general request sets fire to Bloom. pray for us Wandering Soap.Ulysses BROTHER BUZZ: (Invests Bloom in a yellow habit with embroidery of painted flames and high pointed hat. pray for us Sweets of Sin. The daughters of Erin. (He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning. S. Lamentations. pray for us 867 of 1305 . pray for us Flower of the Bath. pray for us Music without Words. H. pray for us Midwife Most Merciful. pray for us Canvasser for the Freeman. stands upright amid phoenix flames) Weep not for me.) THE DAU