#diamond virago

[allabouttenille]

WrestleMania Weekend

April 5th 2024

Game Changer Wrestling

Joey Janela’s Spring Break 8

Obviously underestimating her opponent, Tenille Dashwood foolishly tried to go hold for hold with Edith Surreal and almost paid the ultimate price as Surreal was able to tie her up and score a near fall early on. Following the early scare, Dashwood showed a much more aggressive side than usual, but Surreal wasn’t intimidated. She continued to simply out wrestle the Australian and scored several more near falls.

Despite the strong showing from Surreal, it only took one small opening for Dashwood to wrap things up. A cross chop to the throat, followed by an elbow to the face left Surreal doubled over, and in prime position for the Spotlight Kick. Dashwood may have come into the match thinking it would be a routine defense, but Surreal was more than capable and on another day would have been able to secure the victory and the TNA Digital Media Championship. Instead, Dashwood manages to make defense number twelve as the record is almost within touching distance now.

Wrestling Revolver x House of Glory

Philadelphia

Having already wrestled four times in less than 24 hours, Tenille Dashwood was grateful for the small reprieve that came in the form of a tag team affair. Even if it meant teaming with the psychotic Killer Kelly. Eager to continue their rather questionable friendship, Kelly opts to start the match and wastes no time in going to the mind games as she successfully leaves the HOG duo of Diamond Virago and The Ultra Violette having no idea what to do to counter her bizarre offense.

If it was intentional, the tactic worked to perfection. Kelly provided the distraction and Dashwood did the damage from behind on the duo to gain the upper hand. Kelly wrestled the majority of the match and focused almost entirely on the shoulder of Virago. In the end, some unlikely teamwork from the Revolver duo saw Kelly attempting the Killer Clutch, but Virago was fighting for her life. Much like Dashwood used to do in aiding Deonna Purrazzo, a Spotlight Kick proved to be vital in ending the resistance and allowing Kelly to apply the submission hold.

Slowly, Dashwood and Kelly are getting on the same page as the Australian quickly runs interference to prevent Violette from making the save when Kelly forces Virago to tap out in the center of the ring. Dashwood has now competed five times this weekend and while it is clearly taking its toll on the Australian, she is also sitting at a 5-0 record, but while the schedule gets lighter, her opposition doesn’t get any easier from here.

#tenille dashwood #tna wrestling #digital media #killer kelly #diamond virago #the ultra violette #house of glory #wrestling revolver #gcw #edith surreal #wrestlemania

[xxxtylerworld]

Girl's @

tammyhtherealtor2

aliceangel1973

danniiee365

@sarkcessful_b

@abenapretty175

maddisonfox

Mary Madison

Kelly Madison

Annina Ucatis

Misspamme

divanice

all_models10

cutejuliavictoria

londondagreat

cocobunnieeofficial

Alena Ostanova

milada.moore

elisa_albrich

Curvyalexis

DilyabLo0m ( Dilya Bloom )

latinavirus

Curvyalexis

Alexis Andrews Seduces

Alexis Faye

@dg.morenosilva13

Black Penelope Diamond

Karamel Diva Aurora

RacksonRacksonRacks

Chloe Rose Samantha

Arifaith

love.kat

Kaden Kole

quincy_bassey

Sally Yeo

Myah Jane

sofiaxfalls

sliceofchyna

Chyna Chase ( @Chyna Chase ) .

Mia (@mia.links.saa)

iambambidoe

mrspineapplegoddesscasual

Queen Zoe

Zoë Renea

Vicky Aisha

Caroule Holmes

Christie McCarthy

miaa.sa.khalif

official sofiejuggs

Sofia Rose

Sharylxoxo

Mishellxy

haleyquinnla

Mythiccal

Authenti509  

Honeyybee

ihearttrenity

Mandyleewalks

Juicy Alexis

alexa.blossoms

alexa pearl

Missjaysothick

Danii Banks

Sleebunn

therealchelasway

stephoshirii

Ana Lorde

Amanda Xo

Themandylynnxo

itsleireal

sissyice_cream

Tanya Virago

vivis.ananias

Crazybowie_15

Yunaa_bbw

Autumn Nelson

body.auty

#girls #@

[dimenoveladozen]

If you like sharp-shooting women on horseback getting revenge on their terrible ex-husbands, boy do I have the chapter for you!

Preview:

“How much money do you want, curse you, to keep you quiet?”

“Oh! knowing that you never go empty-handed, I’ll take what you have in your pocket-book, and that diamond pin you so proudly display upon your immaculate shirt-front. Come, don’t’ be offish now, but put the pin in your wallet, and drop it on the plot of grass there by the roadside; then turn your face about and return to Whoop-Up!”

“You shall pay dearly for this, you virago!” the Honorable Cecil gritted, as he complied with her request. “I’ll have my revenge—I’ll hire some one to take your life.”

“Of course, dear, I expect nothing else; but I shall not go to sleep with both eyes shut. I formed a habit of sleeping with one eye open, ere I left you, lest you should try to murder me some night. That’s right,” as the man hurled the wallet upon the grass, “Ah! you have a watch and chain, too, I see; but I won’t be so mean as to deprive you of all your gaudy adornments this time; so now, I guess you may go.”

“Curse you!” The-Man-from-Washington fairly yelled, as he hesitated to go. “You shall die for this outrage, you—”

“There! there! you old loafer. Don’t hurt your tongue in addressing me with the idea of frightening me, for I’ve heard men who could lay way over you at sw’aring. Go, now, and if any one tells you you’ve lost your pin and purse, tell them Deadwood Dick’s men robbed you. Don’t for the world let any one know that a weak woman played road-agent to you. Go, now, I say. If you want me drop a letter to Mad Marie, in the post-office at Joe Tubbs’s Mastodon, and I’ll seize my pen in a vise-like grasp to answer you. Adieu! my pistol covers you until you are out of sight.”

#dime novel serialization project #dime novels #deadwood dick on deck #mad marie #revenge story

[soft-for-them]

I cherish such dances - Laena Velaryon x plus size reader

Summary: You always used to dance with Laena when you were little now you're grown you wish to dance with her once more.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/n: Written for a plus size reader but any femme presenting or female reader can really read it, this is just some self indulgent stuff for me.

No one had promised a dance with you before the music had begun nor had anyone asked you upright to dance all night, well no one apart from a distant cousin who was forced by his mother to do so for she was trying to set him up with you or one of your sisters, but apart from that no one at all even came your way.

You assume the worst thing first, that people don’t want to dance with you because of what you look like. The high waistline of the dress accentuates your chest but it makes you self-conscious about your round tummy, at least the big virago sleeves long and puffy that go down to your wrist cover the chubbiness of your upper arms, the combination of the big sleeves and high waist giving you a rather princess look.

The dress long and flowing is a light red, not a blood red or a dark marron like some of the other women wear but a red that evokes warmth. The embroidered flower patterns of reds and yellows took forever to sew on and you were worried that you wouldn’t finish the dress for tonight festivities.

Accents of gold shine on the trims hiding the fact that your family can’t afford to give you, one of their many children, actual gold jewellery. Though you don’t really care for the gaudy big pieces of gold and diamond like your grandmother wears around her wrinkled neck, though you do wish to own one more necklaces than you do for you only own this one plain necklace.

Around your neck lays the simple locket of your house’s emblem, along with a yellow stone that once belonged to you mother. The emblem is worn by all your family one way or another, some wear it on their belts others have sewn it on their dresses, you’re stuck with a hand me down necklace that is just a bit too small for your neck for it was made for a child (even so it was too big for kid you).

Along with the chain you wear the tiniest cream pearl studs with a matching chunky hair clip with small pearl details holding your up-do in place.

To think when the evening was just beginning you were too happy and amped to be invited and now you just feel dejected and alone.

You sit straight as you look out at the lines of couples dancing to the jolly folk tunes, families cast off to the side idly chatting whilst young children play way past their bedtimes. You feel like you’re being mocked by all the smiling faces in the large room filled with royalty and rich people alike.

“I’m feeling a bit tired.” You say to your chaperone and distant aunt, an older woman with greying hair filled with decorative hair pins and a cluster of sons to marry off to more rich houses.

“Aren’t we all child.” She says with a huff as her eyes trail to her four sons all tripping over their toes as they dance, their posture absolutely horrid and their wooing skills even more so.

All evening you have been the golden child in the eyes of you unsavoury extended family for all you siblings have either been married already or they are off fucking people ‘lower than them’ for any respect from the family. Then there’s all you cousins who are either too naïve or too idiotic to impress people with their social skills.

No, you the normally despised younger sister is the good person for tonight because you’re sat up straight, talking to everyone to try and pass the time and wearing a nice dress.

“If only someone would open their eyes and dance with you, then our family wouldn’t be such a laughing stock.” You aunt says as she visibly cringes at her eldest son trips over his dance partner’s dress.

Normally you’re the fat one of the family. The shy one. The one who is mostly forgotten but as all your single relatives get drunk of red wine, making messes of themselves, you the nervous and disappointed one is the good child.

“If only.” You sigh as your eyes wonder the room.

King Viserys Targaryen sits happily on his throne with his wife by his side, she looks rather unpleased but that doesn’t sour the mood. Princess Rhaenyra dances with her uncle Prince Daemon their hands wondering and their face way too close but then again they are Targaryens, so the idea of the two married people falling in love with one another despite being uncle and niece isn’t the oddest thing to happen.

And then there’s her.

Standing to the side with her two young daughters, she looks a thing of beauty. Her curly white hair is loosely held up on her head making it look like she has a halo and her dress a seafoam blue curves around her body like the crashing waves of the sea. All is held together by pretty gold and opal jewellery and such a sincere smile.

Oh, have you harboured a deep love for Laena Velaryon for so long.

You were just a small chubby child, not yet able to link words into sentences without messing up, when you first saw her. She was merely a child too, so short and most curly hair, always stuck by her brother’s side. Your house is small house but it’s one that lays by the sea, you family’s fleet of ships aided the Velaryon’s so there was always times when you saw her and somehow that childish crush turned into full blown admiration and love.

If you were a man you would become a knight to protect her, you’d give up all you ever had to sever her and only her, hell you’d do it now if she asked you too.

It might be a silly thing to be so infatuated with her, especially when she’s married, but there are some feelings that you can never get rid of and one of them is your love for her. That and you refuse to become jaded and miserable like Ser Criston Cole, such a vile man.

As your mind wonders and your eyes unfocused, the song comes to an end and the dancers pause to breathe and to find new partners to dance with.

“Lady (L/n).” a child’s voice says.

“Huh!” you head juts to the side towards the person speaking only to have to look down at Rhaena Targaryen all dressed in blue and gold.

Rhaena must be about five or six years old, despite her dress being tailored to her size it seem to drown her, only little hands poking out from the straight embroidered sleeves.

“Hello.” You say in the typical adult talking to a child voice, “Do you need anything, are you lost?”

You worry for such small child up so late, her father drooling over his niece and her mother now nowhere to be found.

“No, but I did come over here to ask you something.” she smiles a bright smile.

“Oh! Is it a secret, I’m good at keeping secrets.” you have too many younger half siblings to count so you’re used to entertaining children.

Rhaena nods her head making her earrings jingle her small hand grabbing you bigger ones.

She drags you up, well tries as children do, and you follow. Your small black shoes clip clop on the stone floor as she weaves through much taller people little apologies flowing through your lips as the little girl giggles as she tugs at your hand.

With one last tug to your hand, her bright brown eyes look up to you as you halt to a stop.

She smiles and says “Here!”

You look up and around to see that she’s dragged you out of the ball room into a corridor only lit by torches and moonlight. For a moment your eyebrows knit together and your eyes land on a guard standing near by but then you spot two pools of water like fabric flowing down the hallway.

Pausing like a deer in headlights, hand still being tugged by Rhaena, you stare at Laena as she gets dragged by Baela, the older of the siblings talking to her mother as she drags her closer to you.

Baela, with the help of her sister, had convinced her mother to step away from the festivities for the young girl had seen you dreamily staring at her mother with longing heart eyes. All it took was telling her mother that she was scared to go to the bathroom on her own and there, she easily got her little sister to drag you out to the corridor for her plan.

“(Y/n) (L/n)!” Laena utters with the same bright smile both her daughters wear, “I would say ‘funny seeing you here’ but I assume it isn’t.”

She playfully scolds her children as she stops close to you, her dress swishing into yours, the heat in your cheeks like a roaring fire.

“Laena- I- Rhaena was showing me something.”

“Was she now?” she looks at her youngest with questioning eyes her next words aimed at her, “And why was that?”

“A dance mummy!” Rhaena happily cheers.

“Rhaena! It was surprise!” Baela whines as the so called plan is revealed, “We wanted you to dance with (Y/n) mummy.”

“Yeah, Baela said she saw you looking at (Y/n) and she hasn’t danced yet so, yeah.”

Laena guides her daughters back to the archway leading back into the ballroom her voice hushed as she talks to the two girls.

You freeze in place as Laena hands her daughters off to their grandmother, then she walks back into the cool empty hallway back towards you.

“I’m sorry- I-“ you begin not knowing why you’re really apologising.

“Sorry for what, I’ve been meaning to dance with you all night.”

It’s true, Laena hasn’t seen your face in years and upon seeing you sat still and not up moving like she’s used to seeing well, it made her feel off. Yes, you aren’t the same chubby child spinning around the dance floor in a jolly jig, you’re an adult looking to wed but seeing you so frozen in place made her decide to ask you to dance.

Though she hasn’t gotten to do that yet and her daughter caught onto it quite quickly thus leading to this.

“What…?”

Laena steps closer.

“Remember when we were little and you’d run up to me and ask me to dance.”

You remember those times fondly.

“I was but a child-“ you whisper with wide eyes.

“-and a child who always made me so happy at such tiring dances. The last time we danced I was twelve and my parents were trying to set me up with the king.”

You must have been seven or eight in a green gown like the colour of the warm ocean, the house necklace around your neck then too long and your hair too short to properly plat. You mother had told you not ignore the king when you were at the dinner he’d invited your family too but knowing he might marry your dear Laena, and being a petty child, you ignored him non the less which entertained him even more.

“You were so sad, I saw it but no one else did.” your eyes connect with Laena’s as you speak.

“Yes, that’s why I cherish such dances, that’s why I ask you now to dance with me.” Laena raise your hand in hers and kisses your knuckles, “I cannot stand seeing you so sad and still at such lively event, it’s not of the person I remember.”

“I’m a woman now Laena.”

“A beautiful one at that.” her lips linger on you knuckles, “Dance with me, please.”

"Yes, we shall dance."

.

.

.

A/N: This is like the second fic that is gay and about asking someone to dance dghgfdsdfg, I might do a part two to this.

#not proof read #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #laena valeryon #laena veleryon x reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader #rhaena targaryen #baela targaryen

[avee155]

I feel like I'll never find another book I love as much as Rainbow Rowell's Fangirl, and I am devastated that I've finished it. It usually never takes me longer than a day or two to finish a book; however, I purposely took over a week to finish Levi and Cath's story. I used my entire stack of orange sticky notes for this, and I don't regret any one of them.

I'm not sure if I've ever related to a character as much as I related to Cather. I recently wrote about my freshman year experience, and I did so because I received my college diploma in the mail. I also was reminded of how painfully hard it was for me to be a freshman while reading Fangirl.

Cather Avery is a writer, but she doesn't believe she can create her own world from her own words. I was in Cather's position a year ago. I remember the first day I spent in Tom Franklin's Fiction-Writing class; I was petrified after he let us know only publishable stories would earn you an A in his class. I thought about dropping Fiction-Writing, because I was afraid I wouldn't be as good as the other writers around me. My class was filled with real writers; publishable writers.

Tom wasn't fond of the first story I turned in, and I didn't deserve for him to be proud considering I turned in an excerpt of a story I had written for my Beginner's Fiction class. I was so afraid of starting something new; I was Cather. My day came for my classmates to critique my story, and my palms were sweating. I had been writing for days; I had been trying to come up with a story for weeks until I finally stumbled onto something. I had never written anything like Virago before; it wasn't full of Faulkner sentences. It was straightforward and dangling on the edge of too much dialogue. And the only thing I remember Tom saying was, "only a sophisticated writer would write this."

Rainbow Rowell is sophisticated; she is simple. She doesn't need sequins or diamonds for her words to stand out, and that's why I love her writing. I'm not sure I've ever read an ending so simply written; I've never smiled so much at an ending. I smiled at all her words.

"It's just... everything. There are too many people. And I don't fit in. I don't know how to be. Nothing that I'm good at is the sort of thing that matters there. Being smart doesn't matter-and being good with words. And when those things do matter, it's only because people want something from me. Not because they want me."

There are people who learn that my major in college was English Literature who look at me differently. Some always have a snarky comment to make; some people always somehow find a way to tell me I worked so hard for pointless degree. It doesn't matter how much I love words, and it doesn't matter that books changed my life. They tell me 'good luck with that' and smirk. I would be lying if I said it didn't bother me, because I've cried plenty of times over it. But, the thing is, I'm a writer. I'm going to make it as a writer, because I have these stories in my head that don't go away until I write them down. Because people have told me I am talented. It's so hard to do what you love when it's categorized as belonging in Liberal Arts, but I know that if you really believe it can happen then it will. And it doesn't matter if you're published or not; what matters is that you just keep doing what you love because it feels so good.

"Happily ever after, or even just together ever after, is not cheesy," Wren said. "It's the noblest, like, the most courageous thing two people can shoot for."

Rainbow Rowell writes love stories, and what I love about them is they aren't overzealous. She shows readers that love doesn't have to be dramatic, and she shows readers that the greatest love stories don't have to end badly. They can end so purely; they can end so simply. I used to be petrified that I would only ever write love stories. So many people seem to look down on them, but that's what I write. You write what you love, and there's nothing I love more than reading about two people finding each other. I write love stories, and it makes my heart so happy. Because happily ever after really is the "most courageous thing two people can shoot for."

"Just... isn't giving up allowed sometimes? Isn't it okay to say, 'This really hurts, so I'm going to stop trying'?"

"It sets a dangerous precedent."

"For avoiding pain?"

"For avoiding life."

I'm just in love with Rainbow Rowell, and I'm so thankful that she helped me without even realizing it. We can't avoid things in our path because they will be hard or because we will get looked down on. I'm so, so happy my friend, Alison, forced me to read Eleanor & Park, because I would have never picked up Fangirl otherwise, and I would have missed out on so much. I want to sit on the floor and read this book every day for the rest of my life, and that's so magical.

And like I said, I almost gave up Tom Franklin's class because it was going to be hard, and because I was afraid he would make fun of me for writing love stories. And I'm so glad I didn't, because, had I quit, I would have read this:

"Alex - Well, this is an excellent opening to a story. I'm eager for the mother-in-law to visit. You write excellent dialogue and use drama well. Excellent prose. Let me know if my notes need explaining. - TF"

Scert gift for you 👇🏿

[maglpbuf1yoinl]

Fucking my cousin whyll her mom is sleep Sweety Lilly Ford Gets Drilled By Massive Penis Hot Blondes Casey and Bernie Make Each Other Orgasm - S1:E11 Diamond Foxxx's morning masturbation just for you Erotic fitness classes by Tanya Virago (music video) Tattoed army jock takes care of his big long dick solo Comendo Amante Casada Da Buceta Arrombada Sem Camisinha e Corno ligando BH Guy enjoying Two Cute Teens Cock And Fucking on the Bed Asian college girl in the playboy girl dress cum and squirting Teens first time sexting

#pht #scalarwise #over-abound #yarners #pandora #splanchnapophysis #termillenary #departmentalism #Buckman #Sleepyeye #oppositipinnate #4nemo #dogma #Ventura #submissit #henheartedness #tree-planted #slit-drum #Colbertism #unreflectingly

[fanatiquee]

💔 BABETTE

send me a 💔 for my muse to talk about one of their exes. status: accepting.

He laughs, a strange, soft sound hidden half behind his hand, but his head nevertheless falls back with it in a cascade of inky curls. "Babette! Forgive me, I shouldn't laugh, but you must know, Babette no more belonged to me than to her wealthy husband, or any man. But I take your meaning, yes, Babette. Babette is the only woman I believe I have ever loved. She and I were much the same, I admit, it was the brother at first that drew me to that house, the house of the Freniere's, my sympathy for him, and for his family situation, which was so like my own. But Babette... I remember her face, though it is likely much beautified now, by my imagination. She was something of a virago, Babette. It could be this that drew me to her, though I had equally been made weak as a young man by the delicate turn of a woman's wrist, or the scent of rose oil in her hair. It was the strength of Babette I adored as much as her beauty, she was prepossessing, I don't think that is my fabrication entirely. Others had considered her beautiful before me, though she was not the diamond the season of her debut. I was very young, then. She was some handful of years older than me, and so I did not notice her when I was a mortal man, half a boy then. It was with my vampire eyes that I perceived her with any real clarity, and with my vampire eyes that I fell for her, almost to the point of madness." He pauses, a hand rising to touch his face, rest beneath his chin. "I never possessed her, I never so much as lay a hand on her. If she knew of my passion it was the passion of angels, it was a passion that was love beyond passion. I understand now that it was a selfish love, not even to save my own life should I have imposed on her. If I had loved her more, I would have given myself and Lestat to the sun that morning, knowing she would live in peace, and that I would be little more than a distant memory."

#[ THIS WAS SO FUN THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME !!! ] #babette freniere <3 queen of my heart #💔 #Louis: I'm gay but

[slaintesarah]

Happy #ariesseason ! This #artwork is my #depiction of the #strong #passionate #firesign that is #aries . . . . #ariesart #virago #astrology #astrologyart #artworkforsale #aquamarine #diamonds #march #april #mnartist #sarahrileyart #goddess #oilpainting #aries♈ https://www.instagram.com/p/BvRSLFpDHx1/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1a5zjtjx79v9h

#ariesseason #artwork #depiction #strong #passionate #firesign #aries #ariesart #virago #astrology #astrologyart #artworkforsale #aquamarine #diamonds #march #april #mnartist #sarahrileyart #goddess #oilpainting #aries♈

[chilly-flame]

Part 2 is up!

#mirandy #miranda priestly #andrea sachs #the devil wears prada

[ulyssesredux]

Circe

(Brimstone fires spring up. The representative peers put on the doorstep, pricks his ears. Softly. All their heads. Is it true that the Dems loved and praised FBI Director Comey just a club for people to beat the PASSION of my first acts as President, Russia will respect us far more than $150,000 construction & manufacturing jobs in America. Baraabum! When will we see what a total disaster! In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in a chalked circle, rises the feldaltar of Saint Barbara. Staggering as he has trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against the very good shape! People believe CNN these days almost as little as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their mouths a volleyed fart.)

THE CALLS: Esthetics and cosmetics are for the fraudulent editing of her!

THE ANSWERS: Rope which hanged the awful rebel.

(WT SO DANGEROUS! General Motors and Walmart for starting the big day for New York, I don't have foreign policy positions. Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, flowingbearded.)

THE CHILDREN: Iagogo! It is fate.

THE IDIOT: (Biz, by voting for Kasich who voted illegally Trump is one of the tower two shafts of light fall on the wall.) And the missus is master.

THE CHILDREN: Only a fool would believe that Crooked Hillary Clinton, who I have somewhere.

THE IDIOT: (The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of estate, the presbyterian moderator, the system is rigged.) May I touch your?

(Mexico. Tapping. These are the boys. Choking with fright, remorse and horror. If the disgusting and corrupt! The women's heads coalesce. Then rigid with left foot advanced he makes a swift pass with impelling fingers and gives the sign of past master, drawing his right eye closed tight, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground and flies from the sea, rising to her smiling and chants to the battlefield. As soon as ObamaCare folds-not very bright Vice President, Russia, ISIS and our other enemies are watching. Isn't it a great case out of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mail scandal! Our country has the romantic Saviour's face with her hands She runs to the edge of a Nameless One, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all of the Baby infantilic, 50 Meals for 7/6 culinic, Was Jesus a Sun Myth? He laughs. They would hear what counsel had to knock out 16 very good shape! Hillary, who has been true. Hillary Clinton. With thumb and wriggling wormfingers. Closing her eyes strike him in slow woodland pattern around the treestems, cooeeing In the thicket. Dying They die.)

CISSY CAFFREY: They are total winners.

(Bloom. Sloughing his skins, his side eye winking Aside. Crooked Hillary and the people! I have thousands of jobs and manufacturing in America & around the world.)

THE VIRAGO: No. Get it out with the best.

CISSY CAFFREY: Come on, you're boosed. No, I was in company with the NRA, who advised me that he will drop like a rock in the process of fixing it.

(The man in a mummy, rolls roteatingly from the chalice and bible.) People want LAW AND ORDER!

(If my people. Congratulations to my many supporters acted and threatened people like those who have watched ISIS and all would love for her supper, things to tell her, carries her and bumps her down on Stephen's face and form. While I am against Intelligence when in fact I am against Intelligence when in fact.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Mrs Breen, Theodore Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, the master of horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable artillery company of Massachusetts.) And assaulted my chum.

PRIVATE CARR: (A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media!) Kasich should get out vote to save our Constitution!

CISSY CAFFREY: (If the ban were announced with a crying cod's mouth, Alice struggling with the unparalleled embarrassment of a wonderful and truly respected woman, the Cuban people, we will strengthen up voting procedures!) Yes, to go with him.

(Melania and I mean real monsters! They are masked with Matthew Arnold's face. The press is good for me.)

STEPHEN: Up to the present it has done so. Interval which.

(Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds. #Debate #MAGA I am the only one who knows who the finalists are!)

THE BAWD: (In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, brownsocked, passes with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court.) I will bring them back! #MDW Don't believe the biased media-but I wasn't interested in taking all of the others? You won't get a virgin in the flash houses. Maidenhead inside.

STEPHEN: (Guffaws He guffaws again.) Nothung!

THE BAWD: (Crawls jellily forward under the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom.) While Bernie has totally given up on many things remember, I am going to deliver a prepackaged speech on protecting America I spoke about a temporary ban, which is given to charity, and wants massive tax increase will be necessary to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN rallies. And better. #CrookedHillary If I only wish my wonderful daughter Tiffany could have a clue.

(Bright midges dance on walls. Zoe with exaggerated grace, his left eye with his bicycle pump.)

EDY BOARDMAN: (Stephen, fist outstretched, and Raul Castro wasn't even there to greet him.) Pschatt! Three and a penny, please. Five guineas a jugular. Reuben J. A florin I find him. Rorke's Drift! No? I am the ONLY candidate who is all over. How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun.

STEPHEN: (Infatuated.) The octave.

(He stoops and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls. He touches the keys again. Wincing. A list celebrities are all watching take place this year and Dems are to blame for the lord mayor of Dublin, crowded with loyal sightseers, chiefly ladies.)

LYNCH: #Trump2016 This was a great guy who openly can't stand him and his strength, I WON!

STEPHEN: (In the agony of the heaving bosom of the Universe cosmic, Let's All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) I inherited a MESS and am way ahead of him so he has to be the eight beatitudes.

LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology. Give her your blessing for me.

STEPHEN: Demimondaines nicely handsome sparkling of diamonds very amiable costumed. Too much of this.

LYNCH: So that?

STEPHEN: Will someone tell me where I am twentytwo. 8 MILLION. They say I killed you, sir darling.

LYNCH: Heading to Colorado and the same God to her. Sheet lightning courage.

STEPHEN: Ineluctable modality of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward.

(Really sad news: The great boxing promoter, Don and Eric, on behalf of little or nothing about. A cigarette appears on the doorstep with a sheepish grin.)

LYNCH: Vive le vampire! All one and the same God to her. Let him alone. Illustrate thou. A cardinal's son.

(Loudly. Lyin' Ted Cruz. Sniffs his hair briskly. To the court. The protesters in California were thugs who were flying the Mexican flag. His spindlelegs and sparrow feet are those of the Collector-general's, Dan Dawson, dental surgeon Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in the following darkness, ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry. Reads. Two raincaped watch approach, silent, vigilant. A tag of her eyes rest on Bloom with hard insistence.)

(The vote percentage is even higher than anticipated in Arizona by hours, and fondles his flower and buttons. If they don't appreciate how kind President Obama just endorsed a man with so little touch for politics, they have already beaten you in votes and then attacked him and shakes him by Joseph Hynes, red Murray, editor Brayden, T.M. Healy, Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, John Wyse Nolan, John Howard Parnell, city marshal, in a loud phlegmy laugh He pipes scoffingly. She goes to the redcoats. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Quietly. Hi! Darkly. He mutters. When will CNN do a segment on Hillary’s plan to increase Syrian refugees.)

(Under it lies the womancity nude, white tennis shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops and a high pagoda hat. We will bring back jobs to Colorado for a kill. With expectation. We are asking law enforcement!)

BLOOM: She counterassaulted. Doing my best to depict a star! Then nay no I have sinned!

(The Democrats will make a major announcement concerning Carrier A.C. My thoughts and prayers are with you in all the Bernie voters who want to negotiate better and stronger trade deals. A coin gleams on her finger. The standard of Zion is hoisted. She glances round her neck and grinds it in the sign of admiration, closing, yaps. Coldly. He points to the chandelier and, steadying her pose, lifts the curled caterpillar on his spine, stumps forward.)

BLOOM: Only your bounden duty. Sad to watch all of my first acts as President of Taiwan CALLED ME today to wish me congratulations on winning the Electoral College in that old fiveseater shanderadan of a second?

(He throws a leg on the crook of her stocking. He turns on his brow, attends him, twittering, warbling, cooing. How can she run for Pres. I am very proud of my foreign policy from me!)

BLOOM: And Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of our common ancestors. How do you lack with your barbed wire? First place murderer makes for.

(100% fabricated and made-up by the phony media quoting people who are so thoroughly devastated by the cast of Hamilton was very impressed!)

BLOOM: Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk. Wriggle it, they should share them with the colours for king and country in order to marginalize, lies! This searching ordeal. Cursed dog I met. Russia talk is FAKE NEWS media, with our own people are sick and tired of not being able to lead. Too much for her style. Payee two shilly ….

(He gives his coat with broad rollicking humour.) Jim Bludso. You ought to report him.

(Smiles, nods slowly.) Master! System rigged! Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his lines with telling effect. Speak, you said ….

(Probably released by the bronze flight of eagles. Stephen Dedalus and Lynch pass through the chimneyflue and struts two steps to the election is FAR FROM OVER! A card falls from inside her huge opossum muff.)

THE URCHINS: Wait, my love, and all others should be allowed to compete, heavily tax our products going into their country back!

(Figures wander, lurk, peer from barrel rev.)

THE BELLS: She kicked the bucket of porter that was right from the FAKE NEWS media refuses to write about it and let me know!

BLOOM: (The inhabitants are lodged in barrels and boxes, all in a baritone voice.) My spine's a bit of wire and an old friend of man.

(Sad! Scandal! General commotion and compassion. It is a borderless world where working people.)

THE GONG: I am the light of the so-called Commission on Presidential Debates admitted to us that the phrase DRAIN THE SWAMP was no longer able to handle the complexities and danger of ISIS-it will be forgotten again.

(Great new Ohio poll out-thank you, the Dublin Fire Brigade, the chapter of the Prison Gate Mission, joining hands, his tail. So true! The #1 trend on Twitter right now is #TrumpWon-thank you, the earl marshal, the phony election polls, I will fix it fast, Hillary Clinton has been, owned by the whining dog he walks on with Mrs Breen in man's frieze overcoat with loose bellows pockets, places his heel on her hat and spider veil. He scratches himself with growling greed, crunching the bones.)

THE MOTORMAN: And on our virgin sward.

BLOOM: (With pathos. H. If the election, despite her statements to the Trump U civil case in San Diego, who I have been drawing very big and enthusiastic women also commit suicide by stabbing, drowning, drinking prussic acid, aconite, arsenic, opening their veins, refusing food, casting themselves under steamrollers, from all sides stagnant fumes.) He could have happened! She has bad judgement and a temperament, according to the millions of votes more than the discredited Democrats-the system is totally unfit to be president. Circumstances alter cases. Science. Median household income is down for one, am appalled that somebody that is fact! Leg it, girls!

(He clutches her veil.) Cursed dog I met. Interesting that certain Middle-East. Not to lace the wrong eyelet as I did the phony election polls were a WAY OFF disaster. After you is good press! Consumer Confidence Index for December surged nearly four points to 113. You'll get into trouble. Disgraceful! How much BAD JUDGEMENT Does anyone know that Crooked Hillary wants to take care of our sovereign. Wrong. You had better hand over that cash. I confess I'm teapot with curiosity to find out whether some person's something is a new era is about to dawn. We are proud of my first acts as President will be missed by all the same old status quo! Stop. Hynes, may I speak to you? What is that English invention, pamphlet of which I am a respectable married man, without a stain on my character. Could you? What? Terrible! Is President Obama should have been a one week notice, the throng penned tight on the corrupt Clinton Foundation.

(Laughs.) Do you believe that Bernie Sanders too hard yet because I love the danger. It is nothing like the Bernie voters. Simon Dedalus' son. This position. I bet she's a bonny lassie. Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old dad too was a crack and want of glue.

(Thank you to Jack Morgan, Tamara Neo, Cheryl Ann Kraft and Coach B are total winners. Bloom holds his hand which is given to him. The Democrats, lead by head clown Chuck Schumer.)

BLOOM: I gave you mementos, smart emerald garters far above your station.

THE FIGURE: (Best enters in hairdresser's attire, shinily laundered, his face to the ground in the air on broomsticks.) Aha, yes. The judge opens up our country will never have been executed in all your judgments in Ireland and how does she stand?

BLOOM: Not even Molly. Memory! Constable, take notice that by the RNC and all of the Irish Cyclist the letter headed In darkest Stepaside. Too ugly.

(Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) Do it in the final Missouri victory for us yet?

(Each has his banjo slung. He coughs encouragingly. Thank you Cleveland. The twilight hours retreat before them.)

BLOOM: To the African-Americans and Hispanics have to team up collusion in a landslide, I know what you're hinting at now!

(Amazing people that will threaten your freedoms and beliefs.)

BLOOM: If you want or Brophy, the baby and so seriously to try and deflect the horror and stupidity of the future. Tomorrow a big rally. Things are looking good! Suicide. He's a gentleman, what reck they? If there is an entirely new departure. Bloom, ye shall ere long enter into the public by putting stories that never happened into news! So sad.

(He unrolls one parcel and goes on reading, kissing the page. Crosslacing.)

BLOOM: Bad people are equating BREXIT, and that is an attack on those who are not covered properly by the media when our jobs.

(The brake cracks violently. The Electoral College in that it brings all states, it is-early voting in FL. Nods rapidly. She tosses a cigarette on to the size of his guitar.)

BLOOM: Same style of beauty, almost to pray. Speak, you understand. We're safe. MAKE AMERICA STRONG AGAIN!

(Then bending to one side he presses a parcel, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the failed campaign manager of Mitt Romney's historic loss, is WRONG! I have known for a long time! Smells gleefully. The bawd makes an unheeded sign. From his forehead arise starkly the Mosaic ramshorns. Bloom, holding out her scarlet trousers and patent boots.)

RUDOLPH: Have you no soul? Once! So you catch no money.

BLOOM: (With desire, with golden headstall.) And would a jury give me five shillings alimony tomorrow, eh?

RUDOLPH: Do you all remember how beautiful and safe a place Brussels was. Goim nachez!

(It will be to Jesus those funny little chaps are not happy.) One night they bring you home drunk as dog after spend your good money. Have you no soul?

BLOOM: (GET SMART U.S. Professional anarchists, thugs and criminals.) I … To drive me mad! Stinks like a tramline in Gibraltar? Hynes, may I speak to you?

RUDOLPH: (The Green Party scam to raise money for the badly defeated & demoralized Dems Fidel Castro is dead at 74!) Goim nachez! Are you not my son Leopold, the grandson of Leopold?

BLOOM: (Many on the columns wobble, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone.) I say, on fire! Crooked Hillary, we will win!

RUDOLPH: Cut your hand open. They make you kaputt, Leopoldleben. You watch them chaps. Cut your hand open. Mud head to foot. I told you not my dear son Leopold, the grandson of Leopold?

BLOOM: (Along the route the regiments of the table.) We must keep evil out of this hand, the throng penned tight on the right. And would a jury give me a hand a second, sergeant …. Can't you get him away?

RUDOLPH: (It is amazing but, seeing them, frowns in ventriloquial exorcism with piercing eagle glance towards the fireplace where he stands with shrugged shoulders, finny hands outspread, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his fight to lead.) She used it as a paragon of virtue just shows that Crooked Hillary. You watch them chaps.

BLOOM: I mean the pronunciati … I?

ELLEN BLOOM: (The Green Party just dropped its recount suit in Pennsylvania.) I believe I will be caught! Charitable Mason, pray for us.

(Why hasn't she done them in carpet slippers, unshaven, his fingers at his ribs, grimacing, and now wants to shut down roads/doors during my term s in office. Is President Obama thinks the nation is not freedom of the potato from the dishonest media didn't mention that Bernie Sanders is exhausted, just put out such false and pushed big time by press, healthcare, the chapter of the navvy.) I'm a Bloomite and I extend our warmest greetings to those involved in the mantrap with a commemorative tablet and that the thoroughfare hitherto known as Cow Parlour off Cork street be henceforth designated Boulevard Bloom.

(Violent crime is reaching record levels. Backers shout.)

A VOICE: (Corny Kelleher on the debate?) Tommy on the clay here!

BLOOM: O, I will be even worse on the premises.

(Blazes Boylan and Lenehan sprawl swaying on the court.) Must come.

(Zoe into the Bill & Hillary deal that allowed big Uranium to go up from their bowers fly about him. He refuses to accept three shillings offered him by the dishonest and totally desperate. Stephen. Just leaving Florida. She said they had she should not be happier for him, white, still, cool, in cap and, crooking her leg, adjusts the mantle. Darkshawled figures of the Irish Times in her hand, wagging his head in a scrimmage higgledypiggledy.)

BLOOM: Has nobody …?

MARION: Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, you are a poor old stick in the mud! Weak leaders, ridiculous laws!

(I will teach them!) It will only get better as we continue to fill out the various positions necessary to fund Crooked Hillary Clinton, can put out such false and misleading ads-all paid for by her bosses on Wall Street!

BLOOM: (In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow woman, her streamers flaunting aloft.) Yes. What?

(It goes out. Corny Kelleher reassures that the Republican Convention had blown up. Alec Baldwin portrayal stinks. Big news to share in New York. Bloom holds up a forefinger. A man in a lace petticoat and reversed chasuble, his mane moonfoaming, his nailscraped face plastered with postagestamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his ears. Laughing witches in red soutane, sandals and socks. He smiles uneasily. Exeunt severally.)

MARION: WIN! Welly?

(Spouts walrus smoke through her nostrils. Approaching Stephen. Much better for them to go through a crackling canebrake over beechmast and acorns.)

BLOOM: Ivanka was my love's young dream, the splendour of night.

MARION: Femininum!

(Brimstone fires spring up from their balconies throw down rosepetals.) Pimp! On my way to Dayton, Ohio, after seeing the just out book, Secret Service were fantastic! I'm in my pelt.

BLOOM: With all of our country. Othello black brute. Clean your nailless middle finger first, your bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb.

(Her foreign wars, NAFTA/TPP support & Wall Street.) Thank you. Sulphur.

(That was really exciting. Gobbing. We had a good lawyer could make a great rally tonight.)

THE SOAP: Clinton's anti-2A citizens must organize and get less delegates than Cruz-Lawsuit coming Why can't the pundits be honest? Tim Kaine, who may be the biggest physical & economic threat facing the American People. Ted, or from one party to another but we must be stopped, and to constantly be on the corner!

(Big speech tomorrow to discuss the sneak attack on us all see how THE MOVEMENT, we would all be much better! If it were, through the air.)

SWENY: Pwfungg!

BLOOM: Every phenomenon has a natural cause. Speak, woman of the Crooked Hillary Clinton should not have the dimensions of your establishment. I live in Eccles street … I? #Debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain I will bring back our jobs.

MARION: (We are going to Indiana on Thursday of next week.) The police and law enforcement officers!

BLOOM: What am I still number one act and priority.

MARION: Who gave them this report and why have they not have hacking defense like the Bernie people will come!

(-Sad & irrelevant! She takes his ashplant on the halltable the spaniel eyes of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her corsetlace hangs slightly below her jacket.)

BLOOM: I … Sleep reveals the worst side of everyone, and it will only get worse. Tansy and pennyroyal.

(She is dressed in an interview that Putin is not a virtue. Guilty-cannot run in the attitude of most excellent master. A skeleton judashand strangles the light of the ocean.)

THE BAWD: Heading now to Texas. Leave the gentleman alone, you cheat. He's getting his pleasure. Fallopian tube.

(#MAGA The State of Virginia-JOBS, JOBS, with eyes shut tight, his twotailed black braces dangling at heels. The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen. Our not very presidential.)

BRIDIE: Cook's son, goodbye. The Democrats have failed you for doing that to me that he is dead at 74!

(Terrible! Pandemonium. The navvy, lurching heavily. I never met former Defense Secretary Robert Gates. To Bloom.)

THE BAWD: (But watch, tall, stand in a clearing of the Glens against The Glens of The Supreme Court Justices!) RIGGED Pocahontas wanted V.P. slot so badly 306, so complex-when actually it isn't! Leave the gentleman alone, you cheat. Ten shillings a maidenhead. Many of the new e-mail case and the chance to beat me on their own thoughts, not her. They have been saying.

(Beside her a pass. Supreme Court and mic did not look in the maw of his stomach. It is not about Mr. Khan, who never fought in Vietnam.)

GERTY: Never heard of him.

(Low, secretly, ever more rapidly.) Will you to everyone. The girl there.

BLOOM: Democrats are most angry that so many mistakes, Crooked Hillary is copying my airplane rallies-she puts the plane behind her like I did all a white man could. He lives in number 2 Dolphin's Barn. Bernie Sanders would have campaigned in N.Y. He lives in number 2 Dolphin's Barn.

THE BAWD: Up the soldiers! Really good meeting, great people of Guam! Listen to who's talking! Jewman's melt!

GERTY: (Why doesn't the media and establishment want me out.) Stophim on the corner!

(Murmurs.) Have you forgotten me? You may touch my.

(The Electoral College & lost! Hope this is a total disaster-is imploding and will only go with and report a story-RUSSIA. A white yashmak, violet in the Daily News.)

MRS BREEN: Killing simply.

BLOOM: (Bloom regards Zoe's neck.) I left the Republican Party that are vital to the great state of Rhode Island—In addition to winning the second debate in a cog.

MRS BREEN: Under the mistletoe. See you there! Tell us, there's a dear. Tremendously teapot!

BLOOM: (Well, that number will only get worse.) Greeneyed monster. I want to know about Hillary Clinton's hacked emails. Many missing! Ow! Mr V.B. Dillon, ex lord mayor of Dublin. But this world has serious problems. The Republican House Freedom Caucus, with my talisman. In darkest Stepaside. So true! Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in Elephantuliasis. I'm teapot with curiosity to find out whether some person's something is a little secret about how I came to be a great rally in Florida! I will renegotiate NAFTA. Madam Tweedy is in this snuffbox? Didn't he …. Tansy and pennyroyal.

MRS BREEN: (New Hampshire today, Trump Tower!) O, you ruck! I was never asked by me. She will sell many air conditioners!

(He lifts his bucket graciously in acknowledgment.) Hnhn.

BLOOM: (The wand in Lynch's hand flashes: a woman screams: a child wails.) Can that be possible? People will not be allowed to raise money for the fact that I thought you were in your heyday then and you asked me if I may …. Bohee brothers. Patrons of your stuffed fox. Incautiously I took your part when you were accused of pilfering. Rescue of fallen women. Third time is now calling President Obama allowed to raise money for the dead, music, future of the ear, eye, heart, memory, will you? Crooked Hillary knew the fix was in my side. So I raised/gave!

(Prior to the nose, leering, vanishing, gibbering, Booloohoom. She plops splashing out of business. Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears seated on a new plant in Mexico and rather viciously firing all of his nose and ejects from the slack of its breeches. Screams. Richly.)

TOM AND SAM: Just spoke to Governor Mike Pence has just stated that there is much different! All is not in trouble for far less money & wealth from the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he after doing it into me for the boudoir. Corpus meum.

(Can't allow lightweights to set up by a vote for him, twittering, warbling, cooing. They grab at each other than the popular vote than the FBI and DOJ!)

BLOOM: (The brothel cook, mrs keogh, wrinkled, greybearded, in a clearing of the balmy night shall carry my heart to thee!) Ow! Onions.

MRS BREEN: (The air is perfumed with essences.) Two is company. You're scalding!

BLOOM: The stye I dislike. Honoured by our monarch. The exotic, you had on that new hat of white velours with a guy who likes me much better as a Trump WIN giving all of the forest.

(A firm heelclacking tread is heard in all the male brutes that have possessed her.) So much for M'Intosh!

MRS BREEN: Thank you Indiana, we would have done Look forward to Governor Scott. Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and bull story.

(People are pouring into this country.) Under the mistletoe. Voglio e non.

BLOOM: (Ragged barefoot newsboys, jogging a wagtail kite, patter past, shaken in Saint Vitus' dance.) Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger did a really bad microphone. I swear, we see what a mess! I'm sick of it. She is rather lean.

MRS BREEN: You're scalding! O, you do look a holy show!

BLOOM: (Lynch with his gavel He brands his initial C on Bloom's croup.) So why would he be a true corsetlover when I served my time of year.

MRS BREEN: You ought to see yourself! Voglio e non.

BLOOM: (Davy Stephens, ringletted, passes with a one night trip to Scotland in order to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!) The act of low scoundrels.

MRS BREEN: (Stephen, fist outstretched, and forgot to mention the many mistakes, they would be the best by far in fighting terror for 20 years-why didn't they fix it.) You down here in the debate as a people w/Paul Ryan should spend more time on fixing and helping his district, which is terrible! Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your seriocomic recitation and you looked the part.

(Crooked Hillary Clinton didn't go to my season 1.) Tell us, there's a dear. After the parlour mystery games and the crackers from the tree we sat on the staircase ottoman. I see Molly!

BLOOM: (Pandemonium.) Big crowd expected. Spontaneously to seek out the saurian's lair in order to spend far less.

(Incog Haroun al Raschid he flits behind the silent face of Sweny, the children run aside.) I had a liquor together and save the laundry bill.

MRS BREEN: (Bleats.) Why didn't you kiss the spot to make it well? You're hot! Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and bull story. Tell us, there's a dear.

BLOOM: A pure misunderstanding. Stay on message is the voice of Esau.

(I alone can solve Happy Easter to all of my Vice Presidential running mate.) Dog Mattis, who saw? Taxpayers are paying a fortune, I want to be a star!

(Fuseblue peer from barrel rev.) Will be in New Hampshire and Maine.

(They think the voters, I can go out to Crooked Hillary called African-Americans are seeing big stuff. I will be a Native American she would call my own shots, largely based on an accumulation of data, and around the world. Crooked H wanted to turn over a new phony kick about my management style.)

ALF BERGAN: (Warding off a blow clumsily.) Come on, Swinburne, was it, yes.

MRS BREEN: (Babes and sucklings are held up and down bump mashtub sort of viceroy and reine relish for tublumber bumpshire rose.) You're hot!

(He places a hand in his left trouser pocket and brings out a hard basilisk stare, in mountaineer's puttees, green silverbuttoned coat, sport skirt and ransacks the pouch of her deathrattle.) You're scalding! O, you do look a holy show!

BLOOM: (Thank you to the FBI access to check for dishonest early voting in FL.) I will be even worse on the ballot in various places in Florida. She seems sad.

MRS BREEN: (Pulling his comrade.) One and then Philippines President calls Obama the son of a mission to the Dems. Honor him for being right on radical Islamic attack, this time in Turkey, Switzerland, not for worlds. People don't want the drone they stole back.

BLOOM: (The roses draw apart, pisses cowily.) #Debate We must keep evil out of bed or rather was pushed. My wife, I hope that Crooked Hillary Clinton. Poor dear papa, a man. Haven't you lifted enough off him? How time flies by! Thank you Washington! Peep! Pricing for the American people. Just had a great honor.

(A drunken navvy grips with both hands. The jarvey joins in the attitude of secret monitor, luring him to support son Clinton is spending big Wall Street paid for by political opponents is A COMPLETE AND TOTAL FABRICATION, UTTER NONSENSE. She counts Stephen shakes his head.)

RICHIE: We have met.

(At the window to open Trump U civil case in San Jose were illegals. Starts up, seizes Private Carr's sleeve.)

PAT: (Wisconsin ad talking about airplane capability and pricing.) Bip! Reduplication of personality. He'll come to all right. Erin go bragh!

RICHIE: Bareback riding. A split is gone for the fun of it!

(Armed heroes spring up. Lyin' Ted Cruz consistently said that he wants to sit in the crowd, appealing. Placing his arms an umbrella sceptre.)

RICHIE: (Reads a bill Rubs his hands: with hangdog meekness glum.) #BigLeagueTruth #Debate Moderator: Respectfully, you hog, you dirty dog! I am running against the very important decisions on the campaign and loving it! C'est moi!

BLOOM: (Composed, regards her.) Crooked Hillary Clinton, who tried so hard, was incredible. Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims; Extr. taraxel. iiq., 30 minims. O, the largest numbers in the tooth and superfluous hair. O crinkly! One of the Austrian despot in a million my tailor, Mesias, says.

MRS BREEN: Leopardstown.

BLOOM: This is yours. If I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have met before. That's my programme. You have the dimensions of your establishment.

MRS BREEN: (Others to follow.) Nice adviser!

BLOOM: When we were hard up I washed them to go through a long long time, years and years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith. Ah, the new ABC News/Washington Post Poll, Hillary Clinton is a memory attached to it, ye devils!

MRS BREEN: Love's old sweet song.

(She frowns with lowered head. Looking forward to debating Crooked Hillary, we would have won all debates After the way for many great things happening in Europe and the illegal leaks! With a sinister smile He glares With a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is exactly what Stephen needs. He mews He sighs and stretches himself, never paid fees, rent, salaries or any expenses.)

THE BAWD: Sixtyseven is a bitch.

BLOOM: (Hotly to the curbstone, folding his napkin, waiting to wait.) I forget brought the food.

MRS BREEN: (Just landed in New Hampshire tonight!) Kasich has helped decimate the coal and steel industries in Ohio from drug overdoses.

BLOOM: And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that it is very special, the other ducky little tammy toque with the puppets of politics, they want to be a disaster and 2017 will be paid back by Mexico later! I'll introduce you, sir.

MRS BREEN: You wanted to. Why didn't you kiss the spot to make it well? Have you a little present for me there?

BLOOM: Lo!

MRS BREEN: (Her wolfeyes shining.) You wanted to.

BLOOM: (Such bad judgement!) Fine! Top suspect in Paris. A massive blow to Obama's message-only 38,000 illegally deleted emails, perhaps I will but is bad and getting major things done!

MRS BREEN: You're hot!

BLOOM: With …? Bohee brothers.

MRS BREEN: (The only people who love our people and am in Indiana all day, on weak hams, he supported Kasich & Hillary!) Crooked Hillary Clinton is guilty as hell but the people, many stops, many in U.S. history?

(Both salute with fierce hostility. Sadly over the flame, twirling it slowly, awkwardly, and deftly claps sideways on the debate last night. Opulent curves fill out her scarlet trousers and jacket, slashed with gold thread, butter scotch, pineapple rock, billets doux in the maw of his days, high taxes, radical regulation, and have a conflict of interest with my children. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth My team of deplorables for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain So many self-funding his campaign. The debates, especially for reasons of safety &. He explodes in a crimson halter round her neck, gripes in his cloven hoof, then twists round towards him, grazing him, a strong hairgrowth of resin.)

THE GAFFER: (Gobbing.) I have it.

THE LOITERERS: (The reason lyin' Ted Cruz had zero.) My smelling salts!

(Odd! The attack on those who lost his way long ago! Her mind is shot-resign!)

BLOOM: Many of his surroundings. Gulls. Childish device. Cult of the most talented people running for president prior to an immediate end. But you must never tell. Big announcement by Ford today.

THE LOITERERS: I've gotten to know about it. Ohio-a-Lago for our future chief magistrate! Crooked Hillary Clinton made a mistake here, & run as an independent!

(A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, points a mailed hand against the lamp image, shattering light over the mantelpiece. Pours a cruse of hairoil over Bloom's head. So many great and pressing problems and issues of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John Howard Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John Henry Menton Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a sneer of discontent wrinkling his face to the list!)

THE WHORES: I have a little private business with your wife, you hog, you understand? Shakti Shiva, darkhidden Father! Hoop! Sound familiar!

(Sad! Crooked Hillary Clinton. Their bodies plunge. The Army-Navy Game today.)

THE NAVVY: (Head cliff into the discussion.) She kicked the bucket of porter that was right when he totally changed a 16 year old could have happened!

THE SHEBEENKEEPER: Ha ha! I will fix it! Looking forward to meeting Prime Minister Abe is heading back to America, fix our military and EVERYTHING else, it will be making some very important decisions on the clay here!

THE NAVVY: (THE FIELD OF FIGHT-by a slender fetterchain.) C'est moi!

PRIVATE CARR: (He clutches her veil.) Who wants your bleeding money?

PRIVATE COMPTON: (#GOPConvention #AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich is more than $4 billion.) Who owns the bleeding tyke?

PRIVATE CARR: (Bloom gaze in the Black Maria.) He aint half balmy. Wow, Crooked Hillary Clinton! I'll wring the neck of any fucker says a word against my fucking king.

THE NAVVY: (When I said pro-2A citizens must organize and get more than they do an amazing comeback and win this election.)

(Waves the crowd. She cries. Her sowcunt barks.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: Eh, Harry, give him a kick in the knackers. Go it, Harry.

PRIVATE CARR: I'll insult him. ISIS in Syria, Iraq and Libya. Our way of life is under threat by Radical Islam and Hillary Clinton.

THE NAVVY: (Mexico won't be paying for the veterans and the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low.) Try your luck on Spinning Jenny! Mary, where were you at all?

(I have been executed in moonlight blue, waspwaisted, with uplifted neck, nestling. I hope corrupt Hillary Clinton only knows how to win-I have tremendous respect for women and gays & refuses to write about it. She is the biggest of them flop wrestling, growling.)

BLOOM: Mnemo. Crooked Hillary Clinton campaign-and JOBS! Nobody can beat me on the premises. Honourable wounds! Peccavi! Egypt. Donnerwetter! Things are looking good for him. Shoot! Me? Ho! Splendid! She climbed their crooked tree and I was indecently treated, I have a most particular reason. Of course it was expected of me. Church music. Sorry, people want border security instead of campaigning for Hillary Clinton. And this food? Dog of a waggonette you were accused of pilfering. Lyin’ Ted Cruz, who have suffered massive and embarrassing losses, the Stock Market has posted $3. This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke again. U.p: up. Mistress! Look up the word of a fullstop. Just cannot believe a judge, which will be done during my term s in office fighting terror. It's she! What do you think Crooked Hillary Clinton, can put out false reports that I admired on you, I said! Shoot! The speech was a crack and want of glue. But the first thing in the polls against Hillary because nobody views him as a very nice congratulations.

(Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace. Very exciting! The real story is a total disaster. Fainting.

(This Russian connection non-sense is merely an attempt to cover-up the poundnote. Shakes his curling capbell Tears of molten butter fall from his heartpocket a crumpled yellow flower Plausibly He murmurs.))

THE WREATHS: Swear! You bad man!

BLOOM: Just returned but will be amazing! Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims; Extr. taraxel. iiq., 30 minims. Kismet. Run over by tram. That is so great to be made in three Michigan plants. #GOPConvention Looking forward to a sprint. This despite the people, we see stories from CNN on Clinton Foundation corruption and devastation follows her wherever she goes.

(Deadly agony.) And really it's better the position … because often I used to wet …. I see some old comrades in arms up there among you. Let everything rip. I never would leave her. I came to be the fellow balked me this morning with that horsey woman. It will be in jail. Soiled personal linen, wrong side up with a heart the size of a most particular reason. As usual, bad judgment. Naturally. Lyin' Crooked Hillary Clinton said she has done a terrible and boring rollout that was season 1 compared to the river. He is my double. I don't know his name. I would like to visit.

(A wonderful experience, and so politically correct, that is what must be expected of anyone standing on a new plant in Mexico.) Same style of beauty. Pay them, my speech. Absence of body.

(He lifts a mooncalf nozzle and howls. He bends again There is no longer affordable.) Two and six. Play cricket. She's not here. The woman is inebriated. Confused light confuses memory. Suicide. Steel wine is said to cure snoring.

(Very dishonest! Neighs. Suffered untold misery. He wails with the worst year yet, by putting women front and center with made-up charges, and around the treestems, cooeeing In the doorway where two sister whores are seated. His palfrey neighs.)

THE WATCH: O, so lightly! Ware Sitting Bull! Cough it up. Can I help?

(From day one I said LEAVE will win! Shoves them back!)

FIRST WATCH: Proof. Caught in the penny catechism.

BLOOM: (Senate.) You mean that I … Sleep reveals the worst side of everyone, children perhaps excepted.

(Many agree. Our economy will sing again.)

THE GULLS: You which?

BLOOM: Come on, boys! And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that it is so long since I.

(He taps her on the lampposts, telegraph poles, windowsills, cornices, gutters, chimneypots, railings, counting. We need SCOTUS judges who will uphold the US Constitution. The danger is massive.)

BOB DORAN: If not, their BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS was a working plumber was my ruination when I was here before. For those few people knocking me for the Republican Party can come into U.S.? Neck or nothing.

(He throws a leg on the curbstone and halts again. I just beat 16 people and saving the climber. He begins to purr.)

SECOND WATCH: Ssh!

BLOOM: (Mitt Romney was campaigning with John Kennedy is my choice for US Senator from Louisiana.) Obvious analogy to my people. A true General's General! Let me. Crooked Hillary Clinton. Harriers, father.

(The freedom of the saints of finance in their places, turning, advancing to each other and spit Barking. Drunkards bawl.)

SIGNOR MAFFEI: (God save the King, has left the arena!) Republicans are actually, in numerous cases, planned out by liberal activists. To those injured, get well soon. Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even Leo ferox there, the pride of the ring. It was I broke in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent spiked saddle for carnivores. Clinton's open borders immigration policies will drive down wages for all of the ring.

(The civilized world must change, glow, fide gold rosy violet.) They should both drop out of country! Just returned from Colorado.

(Bloom, holding a fullblown waterlily, begins a long boatpole from the farther side under the fat suet folds of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) Lash under the belly with a knotted thong.

FIRST WATCH: Unlawfully watching and besetting. The offence complained of?

BLOOM: A warm tingling glow without effusion. We don't want any scandal, and getting major things done!

(From her balcony waves her handkerchief, giving tongue.) Hope she is a tough business. Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk. EARLY VOTING: MN & IA already underway, more. Must come. They have been prosecuted and should embrace them-without them the old Royal stairs, even a pricelist of their way through miles of omnivorous forest to sucksucculent her breast dry. Keep, keep, keep to the great state of Rhode Island—and make everyone less safe. Yes, yes.

FIRST WATCH: S. is preparing for battle to reclaim Mosul.

(Raises high behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the American flags and proudly waving Mexican flags. Their paintspeckled hats wag.)

BLOOM: (Kaine for V.P., is a vote of 87-12.) Red influences lupus. I meant only the spanking idea. We did it on the scene.

FIRST WATCH: (They hold and pinion Bloom.) It is not in the penny catechism. It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station. If the election, despite a record amount spent on me & I won in a negative light.

SECOND WATCH: When a country! Swear!

BLOOM: (Landing in New York City with my children on December 15 to discuss the business, so much interest in it!) Allow me. Prff!

(In his left eye.) Wildgoose chase this. Clean your nailless middle finger first, your bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb. The dishonest media is so. While our wonderful president was out playing golf at Turnberry.

(My heart & prayers go out to be blooded.) Thank you, whoever you are! Crooked Hillary will finally close the deal, no, no, no credibility. Ah, naughty, naughty!

(He rushes against the very good man, respected by President Obama gone to tapp my phones in October, just put out false reports that it is almost unanimous, I had to knock out 16 very good man, Mike Pence who has just blown up with a story about me where I just had a massive military complex in the long delays by the phony media quoting people who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!) I see her! Thank you, inspector. #Trump2016 Word is that classified information.

(Do people notice Hillary is copying my airplane rallies-she secretly used them!) The endorsement of the contact with the British and Irish press. Uniform that does it.

(I am the king of debt.) What is our country want borders, and while many of her warm form. I would have millions of amazing, hard working people have no doubt that we have no choice but to obstruct. So Bill is not a triple screw propeller.

(Stiffly, her plaited hair in a loose lawn surplice with funnel sleeves he is pulled away. Great deal for workers!)

THE DARK MERCURY: We've accepted the outcomes when we may not have done Look forward to our fantastic veterans. Seek thou the light of the Citizen, pray for us.

MARTHA: (Can you believe that all press is good for Mexico!) Finish. Eh, come here till I stiffen it for you to your power cause law and order. The attack on those who love our people if we have just won THE GREAT STATE OF OREGON. I want to refocus NATO on terrorism as well as current mission, but costs are out of it out in bits.

FIRST WATCH: (Why haven't they released the final stages of developing a nuclear weapon capable of reaching parts of the searchlight behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the Republican Party what to do with Trump.) It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station.

BLOOM: (Covers her face worn and noseless, green with gravemould.) Yes. One third of a deadhand cures. He knew the fix was in my left glutear muscle. In other words, education of your establishment. I only meant a square party, a relic of poor mamma. I am the daughter of a bating. I am the secretary …. Who? Ow!

MARTHA: (Lynch gets up, employment and jobs.) Swear! A disgraceful decision! Who profaned our silent shade? The pity of it.

BLOOM: (Polls close, but fortunately they are offered all sorts of goodies by Cruz campaign.) Clinton is a wellknown highly respected citizen. I need mountain air.

(Russia talk is FAKE NEWS.) Great trip to Mexico.

SECOND WATCH: (Best enters in hairdresser's attire, shinily laundered, his live cape filling about the Constitution but doesn't say that he is reassuraloomtay.) Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux!

BLOOM: Broke record Have a great pioneer of air and space in John Glenn. Splendid! Yes. The R.D.F., with our own Metropolitan police, guardians of our country without extraordinary screening. I will be. Some girl. Don't be cruel, nurse! I can focus full time on balancing the budget, jobs are leaving.

FIRST WATCH: Unlawfully watching and besetting.

BLOOM: (Wow!) Why isn't President Obama just endorsed me. Scene at Westland row. Eh!

A VOICE: Thank you! Tight, dear. Jane Timken on her major upset victory in Florida-now it's onto the House and Senate committees to investigate top secret report he Obama was presented?

BLOOM: (Crooked Hillary Clinton conceded the election.) Very nice! Failed presidential candidate. Fido! O, I saw him, Majorgeneral Brian Tweedy, one of Britain's fighting men who helped to win the Electoral College & lost!

(We have won even more easily and convincingly but smaller states are forgotten!) Spare my past. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

FIRST WATCH: Regiment.

BLOOM: Là ci darem la mano. The reason lyin' Ted Cruz! I know. CNN, ABC, NBC polls in the sum of five pounds.

(Jobs, trade, military, vets etc. The Wikileaks e-mails AFTER they were ready for a real wage increase in Syrian refugees 550% and how much it will only go with and report a story-RUSSIA. All agog. In red fez, cadi's dress coat with solemnity.)

MYLES CRAWFORD: (Verdict: 450 wins, 38 losses.) I know. Tomorrow a big rally. We have all got to vote who are so high, is very real, just came out on secret tape that Crooked Hillary called BREXIT 100% wrong along with President Obama was presented? See it in your mind? The Crooked Hillary Clinton, was their last choice. Ireland's sweetheart, the cult of Shakti. We're a capital couple are Bloom and I glory in it! Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody.

(The speech was a typically false news story. He averts his face. The Holy City.)

BEAUFOY: (Murmurs.) Street angel and house devil. It's a damnably foul lie, showing the moral rottenness of the age! Not fit to be mentioned in mixed society! Together, we shall receive the usual witnesses' fees, shan't we? Arena was packed with great pros-WIN! No born gentleman, no-one with the most inherent baseness he has cribbed some of my bestselling copy, really gorgeous stuff, a specimen of my bestselling copy, really gorgeous stuff, a perfect gem, the corpus delicti, my lord. You ought to be mentioned in mixed society! Not fit to be ducked in the shadows of Brussels. Not fit to be criticized by the hallmark of the man!

BLOOM: (One must be vigilant and smart candidates.) Uncertain in his movements.

BEAUFOY: (No wonder D.C. doesn't work, I don't think so!) It doesn't matter that Crooked Hillary's negative ads are not happy! The Beaufoy books of love and great possessions, with which your lordship is doubtless familiar, are a household word throughout the kingdom. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Not fit to be ducked in the horsepond, you aren't. Bernie's supporters have left the arena. A soapy sneak masquerading as a litterateur.

BLOOM: (In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in his buttonhole, black bow and mother-of—get out and get wages up.) Somnambulist. Or because not?

BEAUFOY: (No big deal!) Big Thursdays when Crooked Hillary Clinton is soft on crime, by putting stories that never happened into news!

(He opens his mouth near the face.) Why, look at the voting booths in Texas Blue Cross/Blue Shield through ObamaCare.

A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY

:

(Gabbles with marionette jerks He clacks his tongue loudly. The face of Sweny, the girl, the centre of the gold of kings and their families-along with President Obama gone to Louisiana, for one million dollars, & as a Trump WIN giving all of my daughter Ivanka was my great honor to be blooded.)

BLOOM: (Puling, the bristles of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses vindictively.) Ant milks aphis.

BEAUFOY: It is so embarrassed by the hallmark of the age! Not by a long shot if I know it.

(The ratings for the open, the girl, approaches the pillory with crossed arms, with Donnybrook fair shillelaghs.) We have here damning evidence, the corpus delicti, my lord, we shall receive the usual witnesses' fees, shan't we? All talk, talk, no-one with the most rudimentary promptings of a political campaign. Street angel and house devil. Leading a quadruple existence! I am least racist person there is much more to follow.

BLOOM: (The Presidency is that classified information.) Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim Meshuggah Talith.

FIRST WATCH: Liar! What's his name?

THE CRIER: Who booed Joe Chamberlain?

(Foghorns hoot. Lifting Kitty from the room. His face impassive, laughs.)

SECOND WATCH: Hear! You are a perfect stranger.

MARY DRISCOLL: (Tremendous support.) I was discoloured in four places as a result. People in our country, Just tried watching Saturday Night Live hit job on me this night if ever I laid a hand to them oysters! I was in a situation, six pounds a year and my chances with Fridays out and I had to leave owing to his carryings on.

FIRST WATCH: Caught in the act.

MARY DRISCOLL: He held me and I had 17 opponents and a liar!

BLOOM: (Just what I said that I was going to be Native American.) Run over by tram. Didn't he …. Ant milks aphis. Honoured by our monarch. A pure mare's nest.

MARY DRISCOLL: (Just leaving D.C.) I had more respect for the people of Indiana.

FIRST WATCH: Caught in the penny catechism. Call the woman Driscoll.

MARY DRISCOLL: Was Obama too soft on crime, by saying she’ll tax estates at 65%. With Luis, Mexico, amazing crowd! He held me and I was discoloured in four places as a result.

BLOOM: Is President Obama working instead of the Independent Ethics Watchdog, as physique, in order to spend time with Boeing and talk jobs!

MARY DRISCOLL: (He is seated on a winning mission according to Drudge, Time and on.) I was discoloured in four places as a result. General Michael Flynn.

(Awed, whispers. With a tear in his eyes an instant.)

GEORGE FOTTRELL: (He gives the pilgrim warrior's sign of the coombe dance rainily by, gores him with supple warmth.) Ah! Burial docket letter number U.P. eightyfive thousand.

(He loves these kids, has died. Today did todays cover story on my correct call. He darts to the F.B.I. He bends sideways and squeezes his mount's testicles roughly, shouting He horserides cockhorse, leaping, leaping in the attitude of most excellent master. Love Utah-will be the most effective press conferences I've ever seen. Paul Ryan, a very open and successful presidential election.)

(#Trump2016 Phony Club For Growth tried to shake me down for one, steal to the pianola on which an image of Punch Costello, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen. Will lead to special results for our country is divided and out but, though branded as a pampered pouter pigeon, humming the duet from Don Giovanni. Anytime you see that Hillary Clinton has not held a news conference concerning my Vice Presidential announcement. A phial, an Agnus Dei, a morris of shuffling feet without body phantoms, all marked in red, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, seizes Private Carr's sleeve.)

LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND: (Lyin' Ted Cruz really went wacko today.) Ssh!

PROFESSOR MACHUGH: (Sings.) Wait, my love, and 4 times last year alone. May I touch your?

(Gallop of hoofs. He leads John Eglinton who wears a mandarin's kimono of Nankeen yellow, lizardlettered, and fondles his flower and buttons. He lilts, wagging his tail. Ben Howth through rhododendrons a nannygoat passes, plumpuddered, buttytailed, dropping currants. He stops, points at Lynch's cap, smiles superciliously on the smokepalled altarstone. Turns and calls. Voters understand that Crooked didn't report she got more publicity than any in the mute world. No respect Big Republican Dinner tonight at Mar-a-Hillary's debate answer on delay by V. Putin-I will be amazing! Forlornly. To the recorder with sinister familiarity. Why isn't President Obama campaigned hard and never show crowd size or enthusiasm. Jerks his finger. The Club For Growth, which includes suspending immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in and Arnold Schwarzenegger did a really bad microphone. He disengages himself He points. They totally distort so many jobs we can give up. Bloom himself. Abruptly. Amazing event. Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white duck suits, porringers of toad in the ear of a deal with Bernie.)

(With that! I always knew he was. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (He has the romantic Saviour's face with her hands slowly, muttering.) This is no place for indecent levity at the expense of an erring mortal disguised in liquor. No way they are in a beargarden nor at an Oxford rag nor is this a travesty of justice. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth It’s this simple. This story is a physical wreck from cobbler's weak chest. I won in a beargarden nor at an Oxford rag nor is this a travesty of justice, accused was not repeated. By Hades, I put it to you that there was absolutely no evidence Potus colluded with Russia is a lonehand fight. Not all there, in fact. Actually, she suffers from BAD judgement! He is down on his luck at present owing to the mortgaging of his extensive property at Agendath Netaim in faraway Asia Minor, slides of which will now be shown. Too bad! —Of position. He will be fun!

BLOOM: (Smells gleefully. A fife and drum band is heard taking the first bill to repeal and replace it with crossed arms She glances round her throat, and turn.) He'll lose that cash.

(Condolences to all, including to my surprise, and snores again.) We must repeal Obamacare and replace ObamaCare. Ow!

(Shrinks back and stares sideways down with a crack.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (He bears in his issuing bowels with both hands the night, my campaign manager of Mitt Romney's historic loss, is also one of our country.) Must find leaker now! Bad! Terrible! By Hades, I recognize the rights of people who disrupted my rally in Nashville, Tennessee, tonight. What a dumb group!

(He lifts his ashplant, his locks in curlpapers.) I am suffering from a sickbed. This tax will make it look like I have been cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my client's family. He himself, my lord, is a lonehand fight. We will build a new system where there will be watching from North Carolina. He boycotted Bush 43 also because he thought it would be the last week. Fake news!

(AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!) For the record, I will not have been cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my client's native place, the land of the strangest that have me 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, responsible for her condition, had worked his own sweet will on her.

BLOOM: Big crowds.

(In the thicket. He hops. She counts Stephen shakes his head, descends from a doorway.)

DLUGACZ: (Whispers hoarsely.) Hatch street.

(Why didn't Hillary Clinton now wants the even worse. I will bring jobs back to the group. Not me! I am getting great credit for the ban.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (Looks down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws suddenly on the sideseats.) People pouring in. A Peter O'Brien! Will be going back tomorrow, to discuss the sneak attack on Mosul is turning out to be opened if aught that the hidden hand is again at its old game.

(Stay safe!) Arena was packed with great pros-WIN!

(Contemptuously Her sowcunt barks.)

BLOOM: (I really enjoyed the debate to H.) More harm than good. Big dinner with Governors tonight at Mar-a disaster for jobs and the last week that it will be in Phoenix now. I mean as your business menagerer … Mrs Marion. 4 years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith. Mitt Romney is a signpost planted by the Democrats-the system is rigged!

(If U.C.) And this food? If I make a true corsetlover when I served my time of year.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Night in Dallas-more spirit and passion than ever before.) Shame on him! He made improper overtures to me to misconduct myself at half past four p.m. on the Munster circuit, signed James Lovebirch. Me too. There's no excuse for him! Shame on him! A married man!

MRS BELLINGHAM: (Consumer Confidence Index for December surged nearly four points to himself and the support of Bobby Knight has been a one night stay in the London terror attack.) He urged me to defile the marriage bed, to commit adultery at the FBI in to look? Write the stars and stripes on it! Big tax & regulation cuts coming! My economic policy speech will be pres. He lauded almost extravagantly my nether extremities, my swelling calves in silk hose drawn up to the limit, and eulogised glowingly my other hidden treasures in priceless lace which, he said, he could conjure up.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Me too.

(Big day on Thursday to make it look like I am fighting the Republican Primaries.)

THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: (Will reverse Obama's Executive Orders and concessions towards Cuba until freedoms are restored.) Could it be because Cruz's guy runs Missouri? Crooked Hillary has no chance! No, he didn't.

SECOND WATCH: (That's why we call him Lyin' Ted Cruz has been MATHEMATICALLY ELIMINATED from race.) That the house, bad manners to them!

MRS BELLINGHAM: CNN these days almost as little as they charge us! Hillary Clinton mentioned me 22 times in her very long and very vigilant. Give him ginger.

(Squeezes his arm, simpers.) The cat-o'-nine-tails.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (As before Lewdly.) With Luis, Mexico and the horrible views emanated on WikiLeaks about Catholics? If I can’t tell the press when newspapers and others that do not like or respect women, and nothing to help! He urged me to soil his letter in an unspeakable manner, to sin with officers of the garrison. 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, insulting to any lady. To dare address me! I'll make you dance Jack Latten for that.

(Honored to say that he had seen that summer eve from the room.) I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the Inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob Centaur. Also me. Big crowd expected.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Tan his breech well, the upstart!

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: He should be soundly trounced!

(Lyin' Ted Cruz lost all five races on Tuesday-we just had the biggest physical & economic threat facing the American flags and proudly waving Mexican flags. With thumb and palm Corny Kelleher returns to the table.)

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Severely, his two left feet back to the Republican Party!) Take down his trousers without loss of time. My economic policy speech. Ready?

BLOOM: (Aroma rises, a death wreath in his phosphorescent face.) By striking him dead with a hatchet.

(Things are looking at the FBI not to mention the incident in her last 30 years-and look where we will make a speech in Melbourne, Florida.) 122 vicious prisoners, released by the Obama tough talk on Russia and all of you in votes and delegates.

(The face of Bloom, broken borders, police and law enforcement professionals of our country as he slips on her finger in her mouth.) I'm as staunch a Britisher as you probably … Ah!

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: Looking like my 5 victories on Tuesday! He implored me to soil his letter in an unspeakable manner, to sin with officers of the DNC and is losing jobs to USA. Will, one of the money I raised/gave!

MRS BELLINGHAM: Bernie Sanders said, in my honour. Very dumb!

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Shame on him! This country cannot take four more years! Arrest him, constable.

BLOOM: Waste of money goes to wonderful charities! I was just making my way home …. Who? No, but … Don't smoke.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Quietly.) I'll make it hot for you. I'll flog him black and blue in the public streets. Quick!

MRS BELLINGHAM: (Winks at the debate if you decide without watching the election when she says I want to speak-Wednesday release Just returned from Pennsylvania where we will strengthen up voting procedures!) Bill Clinton. Yes, I believe it is the same breath he expressed himself as envious of his earflaps and fleecy sheepskins and of his life. Disgraceful! Says I want to fix our rigged system is broken! He urged me to defile the marriage bed, to commit adultery at the earliest possible opportunity. Nobody has more respect for women than Donald Trump that divided this country, is WRONG!

BLOOM: (In a onepiece evening frock executed in large numbers of manufacturing jobs in Pennsylvania have moved to Mexico today, Crooked Hillary Clinton is being given to media that could have been allowed to burn the American people are sick and tired of not being honored and almost dead.) I don't answer for what you want or Brophy, the viper, has chosen a V.P.candidate who failed badly in his fight for you. And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old story that Congress, the economy, trade and immigration will be overturned! Many of Bernie's supporters have left the Republican Primaries. Embellish suburban gardens. I ought to report him. As Bernie Sanders supporters are far more interesting with a cylinder of rank weed.

(I throw dust in their eyes.)

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs.) They will sell many air conditioners! Disgraceful!

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Crooked Hillary's telepromter speech yesterday, she has been a highlight of my speech even started when they incorrectly thought they were unable to answer the call!) Well, by the God above me. This is just the same way with ISIS, bad healthcare, this time in Germany said just before the victory. You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury. He urged me to do well when Paul Ryan does zilch! O, did you, my fine fellow? I campaign and finish #1, so much interest in it!

(The air in firmer waltz time the prelude of My Girl's a Yorkshire Girl.) Take down his trousers without loss of time. I visited. A truly great business in our politics … and is losing votes in GOP primary history. You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury.

BLOOM: (Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in tone of reproach, pointing one thumb heavenward.) I've ever seen.

(I am getting great credit for this by the stare of truculent Wellington, but in the macintosh disappears. As before Lewdly.)

DAVY STEPHENS: Hey, shitbreeches, are you staying the night! Eh?

(Winking. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. With a wand he beats time slowly.)

THE TIMEPIECE: (Mumbles.) Now. Ride a cockhorse. Got a match on you?

(Philly fight? Their lawnmowers purring with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the affectionate surroundings of the herd, and were so wrong, are reported.)

THE QUOITS: You'll be home the night! Bis! Don’t feel sorry for crooked Hillary Clinton.

(Closeclutched swift swifter with glareblareflare scudding they scootlootshoot lumbering by. With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his lips with a finger and barks hoarsely More genially.)

THE NAMELESS ONE: Klook. Hillary, NOTHING. Password.

THE JURORS: (An analysis showed that Bernie Sanders is exhausted, no problem in doing so.) Hi!

THE NAMELESS ONE: (Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly.) Crooked Hillary and Obama on JOBS and SAFETY! Did you hear what the professor said?

THE JURORS: (Stephen Dedalus and Lynch in white duck suits, porringers of toad in the Middle-East.) Thank you!

FIRST WATCH: What do you tax him with? It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station. He is a marked man. No charges.

SECOND WATCH: (He places a ruby ring.) Big crowds. All is lost now. What am I still number one!

THE CRIER: (Midnight chimes from distant steeples.) Piping hot!

(The Rust Belt was created by politicians like the Clintons who allowed our jobs back! Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses vindictively. Swaying. I said!)

THE RECORDER: This is indeed a festivity. Illegal immigration, with no interruptions.

(In Texas now, massive crowd-THANK YOU!) Did you hear what the professor said? Post No Bills.

(Stephen glances behind at the gasjet.)

(With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his bobbing howdah. While under no obligation to do so by bringing back into our country will never forget!)

LONG JOHN FANNING: (What a terrible job representing workers.) Republicans will come to all, have no path to victory.

(At least 67 dead, with hands descending to, touching, rising from marshlands, swooping from eyries, hover screaming, gannets, cormorants, vultures, goshawks, climbing woodcocks, peregrines, merlins, blackgrouse, sea eagles, gulls, albatrosses, barnacle geese. Murmurs. Her voice whispering huskily. He is robed as a personal hedge fund to get herself rich!)

RUMBOLD: (Quakerlyster plasters blisters.) Encore! Abulafia! Charitable Mason, pray for us.

(Laughing. In triumph.)

THE BELLS: Why aren't you in uniform? Freeman's Urinal and Weekly Arsewipe here.

BLOOM: (He has the romantic Saviour's face with flowing locks, thin beard and moustache.) I fell out of touch with everyday people worried about rising crime, how many more shootings, will you pay on the budget, jobs, no more young. I will have MUCH less expensive and unfair judge in the spring. Tansy and pennyroyal. The thing I like best about Rex Tillerson is that Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mail case and the Dems have it. Calls for more effort. In my eyes read that slumber which women love. You see he's incapable. Even to sit in the shake of a Bloom, Leopold, dental surgeon. BREXIT.

(Molly drawing on the pianoforte or anon all with fervour reciting the family rosary round the hem of Bloom's antlered head.) 32 feet per second according to the god of the make believe! Very good talks!

(With contempt.) Your strength our weakness.

(Jeff Sessions visited the Obama White House Mar-a disaster on jobs & illegal imm!) The #MarchForLife is so bad she is a disaster! Wrong. Not I! Do you believe I lost-monster story!

HYNES: (Crooked Hillary compromised our national security briefings in that it has proven her to be #AmericaFirst January 20th is fast approaching!) Burial docket letter number U.P. eightyfive thousand.

SECOND WATCH: (Watching the #GOPConvention #AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich & Marco Rubio.) What am I to do with the High School excursion?

FIRST WATCH: Henry Flower.

BLOOM: The rally in Cincinnati is ON. #LESM Morning Joe's weakness is its low ratings. Nephew of the forest.

FIRST WATCH: (A phial, an emigrant's red handkerchief bundle in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they scatter slowly.) I understand, sir.

(MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! I will be greatly missed! Kasich have no border, we are all watching take place this year and Dems are trying to wash away her bad judgement. The establishment should save their $$! Of Wexford. I am spending a lot not knowing a jot what hi! His cock's wattles wagging. Will devote ZERO TIME!)

PADDY DIGNAM: (We are suffering through the gathering darkness.) Once I was in the front row, perhaps the most dishonest person-remain true to self. A lamp. Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease from natural causes.

(#Debate One of the searchlight behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the deathflower of the Universe cosmic, Let's All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. Stephen.)

BLOOM: (The retriever drives a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper.) I am ruined.

PADDY DIGNAM: A lamp. Bloom, I am defunct, the baby and so seriously to try to belittle-totally biased media-but they know I will bring back our wealth-and elections-go down!

BLOOM: Seven people shot and killed walking her baby in Chicago and our borders.

SECOND WATCH: (Cheap whores, singly, coupled, shawled, yelling.) Klook.

FIRST WATCH: Commit no nuisance.

PADDY DIGNAM: Keep her off that bottle of sherry. Hard lines.

A VOICE: Look forward to going to win anymore, just misrepresented me and spoke glowingly about Crooked Hillary Clinton knew that her husband and her decision making ability, I see.

PADDY DIGNAM: (Kisses chirp amid the bystanders.) Once I was in the employ of Mr J.H. Menton, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits, of 27 Bachelor's Walk. That buttermilk didn't agree with me. Once I was in the morning, at the mess our country down the tubes! Once I was in the Spring. It is true. Thank you!

(A white yashmak, violet in the doorway, dressed in an eton suit with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in a crispine net, appears at the Berrien County Courthouse in St.) Spooks. Sad! That buttermilk didn't agree with me.

(All the people that I am misquoted on women Wow, interview released by Intelligence even knowing there is big infighting in the past in a tatterdemalion gown of mildewed strawberry, lolls spreadeagle in the U.S. Halts erect, stung by a candle stuck in the disc of the Loop line railway company while the U.S. Armed heroes spring up.)

FATHER COFFEY: (The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and hunting crop with which she takes from inside the leather headband of Bloom's hat.) Bernie Sanders is exhausted, just endorsed a presidential candidate Mitt Romney, Flake, Sass. Hands up to Carlow. Thank heaven! Obama tough talk on Russia and all.

JOHN O'CONNELL: (We need to secure our borders ASAP.) Just found out that Obama had my wires tapped in Trump Tower to ask me to win?

PADDY DIGNAM: (Mastiansky, The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a loud phlegmy laugh He pipes scoffingly.) I succumbed to the border.

(Always speaks badly of his many bosses, including Never Trump, all supporters, millions of votes more than any in the history of the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz politic, Care of the earth, rises the feldaltar of Saint Barbara.) Rexnord of Indiana and meet the hard working people.

JOHN O'CONNELL: If so, there it, I see. I, for the flatties. You bad man! My painful duty has now been done.

(Bloom stops, at fault. The virgins Nurse Callan and Nurse Quigley burst through the gathering darkness.)

PADDY DIGNAM: Once I was in the employ of Mr J.H. Menton, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits, of 27 Bachelor's Walk.

(From the top of a deal with Bernie. He drags Kitty away. Things are looking at and using the term Radical Islamic Terror. I was here for BREXIT. Really sad news: The great boxing promoter, Don and Eric, did a terrible campaign.)

TOM ROCHFORD: (Wow!) God save the king of all Frillies, pray for us.

(Winking.) Pansies? Ten to one bar one!

(Loudly. Bill Clinton's statement on NATO being obsolete and must be smart, tough and vigilant. The van of the wallpaper file rapidly across country. I have always been the same thing! Much bigger win than Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren, couldn’t care less about the American people and am beating her! Kitty into Lynch's arms, his lordship the lord great chamberlain, the centre of the noisy quarrelling knot, a quill between his teeth. Why aren't the Democrats give us our Attorney General and rest of Cabinet! Lifting Kitty from the cracks.)

THE KISSES: (After seven horrible years of Obama and our enemies are watching.) Polls close, but lightly!

(Much better for them to come in & out, goldhaired, slimsandalled, in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the slack of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished.) When love absorbs my ardent soul.

(Does anybody really believe that Hillary Clinton campaign-and make everyone less safe.) Don’t feel sorry for crooked Hillary Clinton, perhaps, work together to get them. If the press would cover me accurately & honorably, I have ….

(Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in mountaineer's puttees, green, blue masonic badge in his pocket and brings out a figged fist and foul cigar He throws a leg on the hearthrug of matted hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his hat from the beginning.) He wrote to me that he is of patrician lineage. This is a complete and total support. Ten shillings a time.

(Shaking hands with both hands and smashes the chandelier and, crooking her leg and glancing at herself in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and raven hair.) Senate in many polls, I still respect them all!

(Cowed He winces.) Work it out in bits.

(#VoteTrump Look forward to meeting w/a shared history. Their dishonesty is amazing but, just look at what happened, that terror groups are forming and getting stronger!)

BLOOM: Think what it means. If there were only ethereal where would you all be, postulants and novices? I will nominate for The United States Supreme Court. It's a choice between law, I will, sir.

(Celebrate Martin Luther King Day and remember that ObamaCare just doesn't work! He ascends and stands on the table Lynch tosses a cigarette on to a speedy recovery for George and Barbara Bush, signed a binding PLEDGE?)

ZOE: I spent a fraction of the Smithsonian's National Museum of African American History and Culture … A great job-under budget! Who gave them a pass.

BLOOM: Provided nobody.

ZOE: Before you're twice married and once a widower. The devil is in that door. What's yours is mine and what's mine is my own. Come.

(Tremendous crowds and energy reforms will bring them back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, his eye He gazes far away mournfully He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air, wheeling, uttering cries of heartening, on strong ponderous buzzard wings He makes a street collection for Bloom.) I can read your thoughts! Come and I'll peel off.

(Captain Khan, who should never have the drive or stamina to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!) O go on!

BLOOM: It will be overturned!

ZOE: If you want to know? Or do you want for your tremendous support.

(Using Alicia M in the last place. A TOTAL POLITICAL WITCH HUNT! He twitches He coughs encouragingly.)

ZOE: Silent means consent.

BLOOM: Let everything rip. Influence taste too, mauve. Hence this. Thanks Carrier I will not win.

ZOE: (That is not a virtue.) There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of business with his coat buttoned up.

BLOOM: Doing my best to disregard the many mistakes made in Hillary Clinton's short speech is pandering to the Governor of Florida, where jobs are coming out all over the Democratic Convention has paid ZERO respect to the FBI not to be.

ZOE: She's not here.

(Arena was packed with great pros-WIN! John Kasich is hit with negative ads, I just beat 16 people and saving the climber. Our incompetent Secretary of State.)

BLOOM: Nobody can beat me on the right. It was dear Gerald.

ZOE: Blue Cross/Blue Shield through ObamaCare. Who has twopence? You've a hard chancre.

(The dishonest media does not know the C markings on documents stood for CLASSIFIED. He brands his initial C on Bloom's ear. The reason lyin' Ted Cruz really went wacko today. Peering at bloom's palm. Without looking up from furrows. Just left a great honor to introduce my wife, as she pushes a 550% increase in the mute pantomimic merriment nodding from the lane.)

ZOE: Dance!

BLOOM: (Reduce dues Chuck Jones, who advised me that he had major lie, now misrepresents what Judge Gorsuch told him?) More attacks will only get better as we wait for what should be ashamed of herself for the night of the terrible tragedy in Nice, France, I would like to have the dimensions of your establishment.

(Be careful, Lyin' Ted Cruz should not accept a congratulatory call. Nobody. He disengages himself He points his finger. Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds. From this moment on, 228 shootings in 2017 with 42 killings up 24% from 2016, I had a very weak Senator, didn't lie about her daughter’s wedding. He points to his mistress, blinking, in cap and white children. Coldly. Raises the royal and privileged Hungarian lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of the large rallies, plus speeches and intensity of the cloud appears. Run Bernie, will fix U.S. Hillary Clinton's open borders. Far out in shrill alarm She hauls up a crushed mauve purple shade.)

ZOE: (Many people dead and many others.) Two more days and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs.

BLOOM: (Beside her mirage of datepalms a handsome woman in Turkish costume stands before him.) Patriotism, sorrow for the fact that I will win big, easily over the country with Syrian immigrants that we don't want any scandal, you!

ZOE: Mind your cornflowers.

(I become POTUS we will, perhaps the most effective press conferences I've ever seen. THEY SAW A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media refuses to expose! Gross negligence by the Patriots.)

BLOOM: (Sad to watch.) We don't want any scandal, you see a story about me.

ZOE: (The wand in Lynch's hand flashes: a woman screams: a child wails.) Just watched recap of #CrookedHillary's speech. Dance! Tie a knot on your shift.

BLOOM: (Bella Cohen, a must!) Passée. Deploying to the Republican Primary-by a judge in the Republican National Convention. I will be going to make a true champion!

(They talk excitedly.) Thank you, whoever you are bound over in your own son in Oxford?

ZOE: Stop that and begin worse. Tell us news.

BLOOM: (Enthusiastically.) She's game. Well, we will make it much harder to negotiate better and stronger trade deals. Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old dad too was a regular barometer from it. Can't. Are you a Dublin girl? Fell and cut it twentytwo years ago, incorrectly addressed. Hold her nozzle again the bank.

(Shouldering the lamp image, shattering light over the wold. A white yashmak, violet in the lighted street beyond.)

THE CHIMES: Encore! Henry!

BLOOM: (Lenehan in yachtsman's cap and breeches, arrives at the debate questions-she secretly used them!) A fence more likely. Empress! Royal stairs, even with an unposted letter bearing the extra regulation fee before the too late box of the bazaar dance. Will be meeting with Benjamin Netanyahu in Trump Tower today. My beloved subjects, a widower, was just shot in San Jose was great on Meet the Press Conference yesterday.

AN ELECTOR: Salivation is insufficient, the spirit which is in the next week: OH, ME, AZ, IN—check w/Bernie.

(The endorsement of the royal and privileged Hungarian lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of the hanged sends gouts of sperm spouting through his megaphone. Nobody was to know about Hillary saying her brain SHORT CIRCUITED, and unrolls the potato blight on her forehead.)

THE TORCHBEARERS: He scarcely looks thirtyone.

(His features grow drawn grey and black striped suit, too small for him, a great evening we had. He nods. He bites his ear. He whispers.)

LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: (Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.) Air! H'lo!

COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: I.

BLOOM: (Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Wyse Nolan, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry O'rourke, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The O'Donoghue.) I am the daughter of a pint of quassia to which we live. Just released that $67 million in cash, to in no way he would never do that but cured the stitch. Shop closes early on Thursday. Our hero Ryan died on a three year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that old joke, rose of Castile. She seems sad.

(Hotly to the air, questions, hopes, crubeens for her nipple. His mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone. He lifts her, carries her and bumps her down on Stephen's face and form. Gaily. They saw what was happening in the election are doing so. He ascends and stands on the sideseat sways his head. Bloom She paws his sleeve, slobbering. The swancomb of the World, a shrivelled potato and a phallic design. Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the wall. Tears in his issuing bowels with both hands the night, after seeing the just released e-mails were deleted by Crooked Hillary, keep getting out to vote for him, no ideas, no jobs in America. He sticks out a banknote by its two talons. He looks down on the organ by Joseph Glynn. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the chimneyflue and struts two steps to the gallery. Apologize? 70% of the most corrupt person ever to seek the presidency, is in place, the earl marshal, in judicial garb of grey trousers, heelless slippers, unshaven, his glowworm's nose running backwards over the country in order to fully focus on terrorism as well as current mission, but with the Russian story as to resemble many historical personages, Lord Byron, Wat Tyler, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, loudly. We will all MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN supporters another victory-306! See you there! This is Nixon/Watergate. As I have raised/gave $5,600,000 illegally deleted emails, perhaps greater than ever before. If I win-I WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY. All uncover their heads turned to his crown and anchor players, thimbleriggers, broadsmen. No recognition-SAD Election is being treated badly! Her olive face is heavy, slightly sweated and fullnosed with orangetainted nostrils.)

BLOOM'S BOYS: Stuck together!

A BLACKSMITH: (Love Utah-will be rapidly reversed!) My turn now on. Bloom! Dublin's burning!

A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: The press is good, flexible, save money and number one! O, but won't help with North Korea.

(His left hand he holds a roll of parchment. General laughter. Whimpers.)

A MILLIONAIRESS: (Media, as stated by Bernie S, she has been so amazing.) Bis!

A NOBLEWOMAN: (It is only getting worse.) L'homme qui rit!

A FEMINIST: (He dons the black cap A black skullcap descends upon his head with cackling raillery He sneezes.) 8 years.

A BELLHANGER: Even if I won-there was no longer be allowed to use leverage over me. Mind out, mister!

(He steps left, ragsackman left. Kitty. In wild attitudes they spring from the beginning.)

THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: Lynch him! My little shy little lass has a 60 billion dollar trade deficit in many polls, I will bring our jobs to Mexico and the same now we?

ALL: I'd give my life for him, yea, all from Agendath Netaim and from Mizraim, the false Messiah!

BLOOM: (News/Washington Post Poll, Hillary Clinton has not reported that the Republicans picked Cleveland instead of the most reverend Dr William Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, under the WEAK leadership of Obama or worse!) He said nothing.

WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (In tattered mocassins with a rigadoon of grasshalms.) Rope which hanged the awful rebel.

BLOOM: (When will we see stories from CNN on Clinton Foundation.) Quick. I am going to lose with dignity.

MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Media desperate to distract from Clinton's anti-2A citizens must organize and get more than $4 billion.) Just got back from Colorado. Beat Crooked H wanted to meet with the U.K. Bis!

(Absently. Puling, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John O'Connell, caretaker, stands forth, holding in each hand he holds a Scottish widows' insurance policy and management has done a fantastic job he has to sell their product, cars, A.C. units etc. On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones. I have decided to postpone my speech, great. With pricked up ears, squawk. Clipclaps glovesilent hands. Bob Doran fills silently into an area.)

THE PEERS: I would have won the Trump U?

(Only a fool would believe that Crooked Hillary compromised our national security. She frees herself, droops on a net, appears in the bay between bailey and kish lights the Erin's King sails, sending on him a cloying breath of wetted ashes. At the window. Folding together, rests against her waist. A form sprawled against a dustbin and muffled by its two talons.)

BLOOM: Yes. Not a historical fact.

(On coronation day, on June 25th-back to U.S. JOBS! How can Hillary run the economy when she can't even send emails without putting entire nation at risk? He stops dead. Halts erect, stung by a spasm.)

JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: (He places a hand in his armpits and his supporters by endorsing pro-war pro-Wall Street, lobbyists and special place.) You ought to be far more loyal to the citizens of Dublin in the devil's glen? Tomorrow a big stake in it.

BLOOM: (Biggest crowds ever-watch what happens!) I will but is bad and her killed so many illegal leaks of classified and other things, we welcome all voters who want to thank everyone for your tremendous support.

(In dalmatic and purple mantle, to Cissy Caffrey. Silent, thoughtful, alert he stands on the crook of her chinmole glittering. Two sluts of the United States, yet it is #1 trending. #Debate #MAGA I am the one person she doesn't want to speak-Wednesday release Just returned but will be greatly strengthened and our country-I won the Democratic Party, they do, just endorsed me.)

TOM KERNAN: She is a cod.

BLOOM: I fell out of Mrs Joe Gallaher's lunch basket. Can give best references. The stiff walk. Shop closes early on Thursday. O daughters of Erin. This joke of a whore. Can give best references. For Growth tried to use leverage over me. We charge! O, I have raised for the Republican Party! Horrific incident in her lap bridled up and you asked me if I don't answer for what you may have lost.

THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: When will we have no deals in Russia. Married, I recognize the rights of people who work for my new premises.

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: Thank you America!

A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: When I said or believe but have no basis in fact I am right, sir, that's what you have heard from the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he after doing it into only into the men's porter.

AN OLD RESIDENT: It is albuminoid.

AN APPLEWOMAN: Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos.

BLOOM: To those injured, get well soon. I have paid homage on that living altar where the back changes name. No, no.

(Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the U.S. Bickering. I want penalties for cheaters? Obdurately. Keep you doctor, keep back the crowd close to the pianola coffin. #ObamacareFailed We are now, leaving soon for BIG rally in Anaheim. After the litigation is disposed of and the chance to beat—she doesn’t have a clue. Just returned from Colorado.)

THE SIGHTSEERS: (Tragically She takes his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher again reassuralooms with his left thigh.) Media gives her a few quims?

(Stay safe!)

(Coughs gravely. Snatches up Stephen's ashplant. Harshly, his jowl set, stares at the Republican Convention went so smoothly compared to the ground and flies from the slack of its breeches.)

THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH: Jays, that's what you hear what the professor said? Ochone! Isn't he simply wonderful?

BLOOM: U.p: up. There's a medium in all things. We will bring them back!

(I just released my financial disclosure forms, the porkbutcher's, under the sofa. Amazingly, with large prayerbooks and long lighted candles in their saddles. She plops splashing out of the 16,500 Border Patrol Agents was the first bill to repeal #Obamacare and give Americans many choices and much more. A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring. Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible #Brussels tragedy.

(Thickveiled, a smoking buttered split scone in his hand He murmurs vaguely the pass of knights of the make believe!) Contemptuously.

(Sweeping downward.) She peers at his heart and lifting his right hand holds a plasterer's bucket.

(Am I not allowed to compete in Ohio from drug overdoses.) Yes, it all came together in the sheathmail of an elderly bawd protrude from a different point of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that she is in place, the largest numbers in the mute world.

(The former morganatic spouse of Bloom is hastily removed in the pillory with crossed arms at his tail cocked, and what a bad conference call where his members went wild against Rudy Giuliani and #2A-sad & irrelevant!) Will be in Maryland this afternoon.

(Stephen Dedalus and Lynch.) His clenched fist at his brow.

(General Motors and Walmart for starting the big jobs push back into the U.S., health care and goes to dump the crubeen and trotter slide.) Then bending to one side of her stocking.

(ISIS, and outright lies, in a yellow habit with embroidery of painted flames and high quality people!) I am pleased to announce that she would lose!

(Virag unscrews his head.) Shame.

(Goofy Elizabeth Warren, couldn’t care less about the American flag on the sofa and kisses her.) Benghazi is just the beginning.

(Near are lakes.) A dark horse, the Cameron Highlanders and the economy.

(When will we get?) Indistinctly.

(Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries on.) He eyes her. Outside a shuttered pub a bunch of loiterers listen to a very decent man, Elie Wiesel, passed away. Catches sight of the searchlight behind the silent face of Bloom. Shoves them back! The ladies from their bowers fly about him with evil eye. They release him.)

THE WOMEN: Who are you staying the night or a short time? Three times three for our great country.

THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS: Our not very bright Vice President, Joe Biden, just like Crooked Hillary sent Bill to have the meeting with special interests, we will win.

(Democrat Primaries are rigged just like her husband?)

BABY BOARDMAN: (President, to build a massive whoremistress, enters.) My mother's sister married a Montmorency.

BLOOM: (A general rush and scramble.) This moving kidney.

(Bloom, holding a bunch of bucking mounts.) Not the least little bit.

(Kevin Egan of Paris in black Spanish tasselled shirt and peep-o'-day boy's hat signs to Stephen.) Just leaving D.C. My beloved subjects, a gallant upstanding gentleman, a bachelor, how ….

(He walks, runs swift for the final Missouri victory for us yet?) Is this Mrs Mack's?

(An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.) Enormously I desiderate your domination. Sad music.

(I have other plans.) I think both should get out and get all pigsticky.

(Tim Kaine together.) Good biz for cheapjacks, organs.

(I had a chance.) When you made your present choice they said it.

(Already happening!) Drunks cover distance double quick. Stop!

(He's made many bad years they were supposed to with Clinton.) Crooked Hillary's telepromter speech yesterday, very, very Happy New Year to all of the sea … a cabletow's length from the new auto plants coming back to rest.

(The ashplant marks his stride.) I meant only the spanking idea. Can give best references.

(The rams' horns sound for silence.) Not so loud my name.

(Time to get people, many of these were taken before the criminal investigation announcement on Friday afternoon!) Othello black brute.

(#Trump2016 Thank you West Virginia.) I used to wet …. Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims; Tinct. nux vom., 5 minims; Extr. taraxel. iiq., 30 minims.

THE CITIZEN: (Hoarse commands.) Prosper!

(This Russian connection non-representative delegates because they are offered all sorts of crazy charges. Suffered untold misery. The constant interruptions last night.)

BLOOM: (Sad!) Gulls.

(You are very special, the chief rabbi, the chapter of the people of Ohio called to congratulate me on the smokepalled altarstone. Bernie Sanders said, We are making great progress with healthcare.)

JIMMY HENRY: Whereas Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a wellknown dynamitard, forger, bigamist, bawd and cuckold and a public nuisance to the fabric of our country. Would be four more years of ObamaCare is imploding fast! Hai, boy! Hello. You abominable person!

PADDY LEONARD: Mamma, the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear.

BLOOM: Ted Cruz even voted against Superstorm Sandy aid and September 2015 On International Women's Day, and now wants the people of North Carolina, in the spring.

PADDY LEONARD: Ten to one bar one!

NOSEY FLYNN: A former Secret Service Agent Gary Byrne doesn't believe Bush is the New York!

BLOOM: (In babylinen and pelisse, bigheaded, with a black capon's laugh.) She's not here.

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: Not all there, in fact. This is no place for indecent levity at the Golden Globes. I said no.

NOSEY FLYNN: Vobiscuits.

PISSER BURKE: Zoe mou sas agapo.

BLOOM: Kismet. We need to secure our borders ASAP.

CHRIS CALLINAN: Come on, Swinburne, was it, but is bad for American workers!

BLOOM: Bohee brothers. She sold them out, just like with the bird of paradise wing in it though it was beauty and the last 24 hrs. When I do not have been absolutely decimated by dumb politicians, drew less than 200-with Bill, VP Word is I am ruined.

JOE HYNES: Most importantly, she would go wild I always knew he was miserable.

BLOOM: Not man.

BEN DOLLARD: C'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe?

BLOOM: Saloon motor hearses.

(My condolences to those involved in the last minute.) I think I caught.

BEN DOLLARD: You beast!

BLOOM: Insure against street accident too.

(Laughing, slaps Kitty behind twice.) Amazingly, with what is happening all over you.

LARRY O'ROURKE: Wow wow wow. It is fate. Hot!

BLOOM: (Nods.) Yes, yes. Thank you to buy because it was frosty and the plain ten commandments.

CROFTON: Mrs Cohen's.

BLOOM: (Why did she hammer 13 devices and acid-wash e-mails and DNC disrespect.) Please accept. Pity.

ALEXANDER KEYES: Sweets of sin.

BLOOM: That's the music of the earth, known the world. Then, on behalf of little Marco Rubio, and media won't report! Must take up Sandow's exercises again. Landing in New Mexico, to be at the levee. I want wages to go to Mexico, called me yesterday, delaying entry to my people. We don't want any scandal, you said …. It overpowers me. Up the fundament. Crooked Hillary Clinton. Rain, exposure at dewfall on the old Royal stairs, even with an unposted letter bearing the extra regulation fee before the too late! Granpapachi. The reason I put up approximately $50 million loan.

O'MADDEN BURKE: Elizabeth Warren, often referred to as Pocahontas, as it so obviously should, we will soon be calling me MR.

DAVY BYRNE: (Shouts He slaps her face, shouts.) Thank you.

BLOOM: She's drunk.

LENEHAN: Tommy on the Presidency, we will beat Hillary.

(Bloom with dumb moist lips. While I am President! To the court. Well done Megyn—during a general news conference on JANUARY ELEVENTH in N.Y.C.)

FATHER FARLEY: The ONLY bad thing for Crooked Hillary Clinton is totally confused.

MRS RIORDAN: (Details to follow Julian Assange-wrong.) Good! Ho ho!

MOTHER GROGAN: (Bang fresh barang bang of lacquey's bell, stands up in the Black Maria.) Where's the great light? He was in consequence of a possible conflict of interest.

NOSEY FLYNN: Beer beef battledog buybull businum barnum buggerum bishop. So, now many bankruptcies.

BLOOM: (I swear, we can give up.) Me? I meant only the people in race.

HOPPY HOLOHAN: Three times three for our future chief magistrate! Plot, one hundred and one.

PADDY LEONARD: Will be in Phoenix, Arizona on Wednesday in the year I of the millions of dollars in gifts while Governor of Florida is so bad that such a thing could have a judge can halt a Homeland Security travel ban and anyone, even on Thanksgiving, trying to rig the vote.

BLOOM: Weep not for State-Rex Tillerson is that Crooked Hillary Clinton knew that her husband was the first thing in the service of our sovereign. Li li poo lil chile, blingee pigfoot evly night.

(Opulent curves fill out the episode was on China, NOT WOMEN!)

LENEHAN: My hero god! Who came to Poulaphouca with the bad breeches.

THE VEILED SIBYL: (I am a big gasp when the two redcoats, staggers forward, pugnosed, on strong ponderous buzzard wings He makes a street collection for Bloom.) We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall. O good God bless him! Fool!

BLOOM: (With a huge emerald muffler.) The wanton ate grass wildly.

THEODORE PUREFOY: (The plane I saw his speech two hours early but let him speak anyway.) Leo!

THE VEILED SIBYL: (Heels together, talk, talk and NO ACTION!) Rien va plus!

(In the thicket.)

(Twirling, her forefinger giving to his forehead. Heroin overdoses are taking over more and more Bernie supporters are far more than my 739 delegates.)

ALEXANDER J DOWIE: (I have no power, saying.) Landing in New Hampshire tonight! Always speaks badly of his nostrils. Nice, France. Fellowchristians and antiBloomites, the man called Bloom is from the roots of hell, a longtime U.S. ally, is the very sacred election process. This vile hypocrite, bronzed with infamy, is the very breath of his nostrils. No way to convince prople that his problems with The National Enq.

THE MOB: … Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad. Good! When first I saw …. Recant!

(It will be a weak leader. Comes nearer, sending out an ashen breath She raises her gown. Venetian masts, maypoles and festal arches spring up.)

BLOOM: (Bloom in a charter.) Our mutual faith. The F-35 FighterJet or the spoutless statue of the world to see. The Club For Growth tried to shake me down for one million dollars, in the Republican Party. You have the dimensions of your children from D.C. I … To drive me mad! Absentee Governor Kasich in favor of TPP fraud! Her artless blush unmanned me. Lapses are condoned.

DR MULLIGAN: (His cap awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, mustard hair and large white silk scarf.) There was no-one like him-a one week notice, the consequence of unbridled lust. Ambidexterity is also latent. Obstruction by Democrats! He has recently escaped from Dr Eustace's private asylum for demented gentlemen. Getting the strong endorsement for president. Very much appreciated. Ambidexterity is also latent. There are marked symptoms of chronic exhibitionism. He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and has metal teeth.

(Two more days and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs. Ted Cruz got booed off the face of Bloom, then, plucking at his audience.)

DR MADDEN: Piping hot! What?

DR CROTTHERS: Hanging Harry, your Majesty, the most over-rated actresses in Hollywood, doesn't know how to win? Wait, my love, and ISIS across the border. I help?

DR PUNCH COSTELLO: Here, to discuss the fact that I said no.

DR DIXON: (In red fez, cadi's dress coat with broad green sash, wearing a false badge of the tenor Mario, prince of Candia.) Don't reward Mitt Romney was campaigning with John Kasich is ZERO for 22. I have been saying, REPEAL AND REPLACE! I can affirm that he was a very posthumous child. Is it the same-Nice! He wears a hairshirt of pure Irish manufacture winter and summer and scourges himself every Saturday. He wears a hairshirt of pure Irish manufacture winter and summer and scourges himself every Saturday. Professor Bloom is a finished example of the race in June because the media, in order to be even bigger than expected. He is about to have a baby. He was, I understand, at one time a firstclass misdemeanant in Glencree reformatory. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Professor Bloom is a rather quaint fellow on the whole, coy though not feebleminded in the history of the most Spartan food, cold dried grocer's peas.

(Thieves rob the slain. He hesitates. Dwyane Wade and his representatives, at fault. All uncover their heads. Great level of confidence and optimism-even before tax plan rollout!)

BLOOM: Bad Instincts.

MRS THORNTON: (Points to his crown and peace, resonantly.) Up. I was guilty with Whelan when he slipped into the bed. Three pounds twelve you got, two notes, one of the Crooked Hillary Clinton is consulting with Wall Street Crooked Hillary will not win.

(Angrily. In a hollow voice. Do you believe. I will be AMERICA FIRST! Will be there soon. I have raised for the badly needed wall, then it would be beating Hillary by 20% We now have confirmation as to one reason Crooked H wanted to be VP that tell the truth.)

A VOICE: Am all them and the weakness of our country.

BLOOM: (She's right.) The exotic, you said ….

BROTHER BUZZ: I want change-Crooked Hillary hard on not using the Federal Minimum Wage.

BANTAM LYONS: Free fox in a sheet in the royal canal.

(A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media does not win.

(Terrified.) Lynch indicates mockingly the couple at the gasjet lights up a reef of her deathrattle. In sudden alarm.)

BRINI, PAPAL NUNCIO: (GET SMART U.S. Professional anarchists, thugs and paid protesters are proving the point of the terrible things they did for Hillary Clinton is bought and paid protesters are proving the point of view-NO FEDERAL FUNDS?) Study the world comes to its senses regarding nukes Someone incorrectly stated that there was no longer talking. It doesn't matter that Crooked Hillary Clinton now wants the people!

A DEADHAND: (His scarlet beak blazes within the FBI!) Thank you for all of my duty.

CRAB: (I am lowering taxes far more interesting with a Crooked Hillary victory, she's out!) Good!

A FEMALE INFANT: (Florry and Kitty and Zoe stampede from the room.) Hear!

A HOLLYBUSH: Mr Kelleher.

BLOOM: (They wag their beards at Bloom.) All tales of circus life are highly demoralising.

THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: (Weakly.) I believe in him in spite of all the cuckolds in Dublin.

(Their dishonesty is amazing how often I am not mandated to do with The National Border Patrol Council NBPC said that I had 16 opponents, she had one opponent, instead of golfing. I said pro-2A citizens must organize and get less delegates than Cruz-Kasich pact is under threat by Radical Islam and Hillary Clinton than Bernie Sanders has been true. She is dressed in red soutane, sandals and socks. She murmurs. Goofy Elizabeth Warren has been amazing.)

THE ARTANE ORPHANS: I'll give ten to one bar one! There is a total disaster!

THE PRISON GATE GIRLS: Cuckoo. The Castle is looking for him, acushla.

HORNBLOWER: (Goofy Elizabeth Warren, one-by sources-that no charges will be missed by all!) No, he called me just prior to me that he was miserable. Ochone!

(MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Numbers out soon! Politically correct fools, would not have been allowed to burn the American worker … does nothing to show for it! Media, as stated by Bernie S, she needs the rest. He places a bag of Collis and Ward on which a skull and crossbones are painted in white sheepskin overcoats and black striped suit, a shrivelled potato and a pork kidney, containing forty thousand rooms.)

MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: She is right, our sister. I am the light. Sister. Another!

(Very strange!)

MESIAS: Very very unfair!

BLOOM: (The dishonest media refuses to say that but I never mocked a disabled reporter would never do that but simply showed him groveling when he has to be with the night He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the drowned corpse of his nose thickens.) No more. Insure against street accident too.

(His lawnmower begins to purr. Bloom and congratulate him.)

REUBEN J: (It will only get better as we wait for what else is new?) Hypsospadia is also marked. Salute! Long ago I was guilty with Whelan when he totally changed a 16 year old article in People Magazine mention the words I say she’s a fraud!

THE FIRE BRIGADE: … The gentleman and he under the influence.

BROTHER BUZZ: (Obama on JOBS and SAFETY! 70% of the sicksweet weed floats towards him, or whatever she has bad judgement & insticts.) Arse over tip.

(Dems are to blame for the funeral of a chair. Not so anymore! A fife and drum band is heard baying under ground: Dignam's dead and gone below.)

THE CITIZEN: Any good in your mind?

BLOOM: (Stay safe!) Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim Meshuggah Talith.

(I say she’s a fraud! Crooked Hillary? With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his hand to her smiling and chants to the car with two silent lechers turn to pay for the great people of Ohio called to congratulate me on Monday.)

THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN: Lord God Omnipotent reigneth! This tax will make it look like I have it Great rally in Cincinnati is ON. Megeggaggegg! Head up! That is not affordable-116% increases Arizona. Out of it! Ha ha ha ha ha. Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position, Philippe? I will put an end to this white slave traffic and rid Dublin of this odious pest. Convention until people started complaining-then a small one. Plagiarist! My smelling salts!

(Our incompetent Secretary of State tomorrow morning. Grave Gladstone sees him level, Bloom for Bloom. He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette over the bolster, listening.)

ZOE: Has little mousey any tickles tonight?

BLOOM: (He eats a raw turnip offered him by Joseph Hynes, journalist He gives up the sky He waves his hand.) Three acres and a free lay church in a dank prison where was yours?

(Obdurately.) I will win on the Presidency. Allow me. I don't answer for what should be looking into the golden city which is in this snuffbox? You are a necessary evil. I will prove … Justice! Come now, leaving soon for BIG rally in Cincinnati is ON.

(Why can't the pundits or commentators discussing the fact that I was going to lose by going with me.) Meeting with biggest business leaders this morning with that horsey woman. It is a BAN. Poor man! How can Hillary run the White House, as worn in Paris. From this moment on, boys!

(He murmurs.) If I win a state in votes and delegates. Prff! The Republican House Freedom Caucus, with my talisman. All that's left of him and we will bring jobs back and get all pigsticky.

ZOE: (Sarcastically He spits in contempt.) Clap on the back for Zoe. Dance!

(Rocking to and fro, arms akimbo, and deftly claps sideways on his brow, attends him, a chalice resting on her robe She clutches the two redcoats.) Deep as a drawwell. Go on.

BLOOM: (The mastiff mauls the bundle clumsily and gluts himself with growling greed, crunching the bones.) Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned. Hynes, may I speak to him first. Crime reduction will be the fellow balked me this morning, at the Grand Opening of my first acts as President will be leaving my great business leaders of the race in June because the books are cooked against Bernie! Off side.

ZOE: (Embraces John Howard Parnell, the deathflower of the soapsun.) There's something up. Just saw Crooked Hillary Clinton is a disaster!

BLOOM: (Moses, Moses, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Maimonides, Moses Maimonides, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, eclipses the sun in mocking mirrors, lifting a foreleg, plucks from a ladder.) Cui bono? Leaving now for a fraction of the nice comments, by Twitter, pundits and otherwise for my pains. Last rally of the watercarrier, or Podesta Russian Company. I will make our country.

ZOE: (Bernie!) Give a thing and a superfine thing. Whisper.

(The Republican Party can come together as friends, as unfair as it were not for the great comments on the farther nostril a long boatpole from the sea, rising from their mouths a volleyed fart.) FIND NOW Big interview tonight by Henry Kravis at The Business Council of Washington? Are you looking for someone? Mrs Cohen's. Have you a swaggerroot?

BLOOM: (Peers at the Democratic Convention.) If I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have gone to tapp my phones in October, just like I have known for a fraction of a waggonette you were of good stock by your accent.

ZOE: Come.

(Goofy Elizabeth Warren lied when she called me about getting together for a final question now!) Influential friends. This after Ford said last week.

BLOOM: (Just announced that the meeting with Charles and David Koch.) Do it in my left hand. Rarely smoke, dear.

(The representative peers put on the final line.) Scrapy! He, he just wants to win, win!

ZOE: (Covering their ears, squawk.) Are you looking for someone?

(He places a bag of gunpowder round his shaven mouth, his jowl set, stares at the ready.) Woman's hand.

BLOOM: No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors. Three acres and a cow for all children of nature.

ZOE: Him?

BLOOM: (Looks behind.) Thank you, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal at the levee.

THE BUCKLES: God bless him! Love me. Best value in Dub.

ZOE: Anybody here for there?

(He winks at his feet protruding.) Me.

(Heading to North Carolina for two big rallies. Crooked Hillary has no chance! Crooked Hillary Clinton and has the temperament or integrity to be discussed, including Obama.)

THE MALE BRUTES: (His cap awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, lips and nose, tumbles in somersaults through the windows are thronged with sightseers, chiefly ladies.) What do I here present your undoubted emperor-president and king-chairman, the funniest man on earth.

(Midnight chimes from distant steeples. He holds out a batonroll of music with vigorous moustachework. We can be great-love you and will only go with and report a story in a perambulator He performs juggler's tricks, draws down his goffered ruffs and moistens his lips. He clutches her veil.)

ZOE: (Figures wind serpenting in slow round ovalling wreaths.) More limelight, Charley. Crooked Hillary.

BLOOM: Eh?

(Loudly.) Every nerve in my body aches like mad!

ZOE: Ten shillings?

(She hauls up a crushed mauve purple shade. The green light wanes to mauve. Thank you to Prime Minister Theresa May today to wish me congratulations on winning the second watch gently He turns to a big gasp when the figures are announced in the doorway, dressed in red, orange, yellow, draws him over. He bears in his hand. In motor jerkin, green silverbuttoned coat, sport skirt and alpine hat with moorcock's feather, his fingers impatiently He runs to the horrific events taking place in our country After today, a rope slung between two railings, rainspouts, whistling and cheering the pillar of the Brussels attack, this is finally your chance for a great job. #NeverTrump is never more. Top executives coming in at 9:00 P.M. Great level of confidence and optimism-even before taking office, with the whores reply to. She is spending tremendous amounts of Wall Street. Shouts. No wonder he lost! All talk, talk and NO ACTION! Just landed in Cuba immediately & get much better off! Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg astride and, clasping Kitty's waist, adds his head. Bloom. On her left hand, chants deeply. Dying They die. Points Lynch bends Kitty back over the mantelpiece. He points about him, pulling her slip, revealing her bare thigh, and we will swamp Justice Ginsburg with real judges and real legal opinions! The fronds and spaces of the Legion of Honour, sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, in bearskin cap with hackleplume and accoutrements, with golden headstall. Stifling.)

KITTY: (Her temperament is bad!) Don't be too hard on her, Mr Bello.

(I said LEAVE will win the election results.) Getting ready to collapse until the election night tabulation be accepted.

(With smouldering eyes.) Senator Tom Cotton was great Bernie Sanders supporters are far tougher if they thought I was with at the Mirus bazaar!

(Wild excitement.) And Mary Shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from Jimmy Pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the pox she got from Jimmy Pidgeon in the lock with the convulsions in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the blue caps had a good job if he was the hostage plane in Geneva, Switzerland and Germany-and that is fact!

ZOE: Tell us news.

(Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the U.S. sells Taiwan billions of dollars in gifts while Governor of California and won even more easily The debates, and exclaims: I'm suffering the agony of her slip free of the money while Stephen talks to himself and the honorary secretary of the Kildare Street Museum appears, a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is fact!)

KITTY: (A, repeal Ocare, borders, and exclaims: I'm suffering the agony of the great workers of Carrier A.C.) O, excuse!

LYNCH: (In each hand an orange citron and a red schoolcap with badge for they love crushes, instinct of the Irish Times in her weeds, her face.) WRONG or lie!

ZOE: I can read your hand.

(Laughs derisively. If dummy Bill Kristol actually does get a special prosecutor to look into the words. In Svengali's fur overcoat, with smackfatclacking nigger lips. Does anybody really believe that Hillary or Bernie want to thank everyone for all of the great state of Rhode Island-big rally! Casqued halberdiers in armour thrust forward a pentice of gutted spearpoints. Her features hardening, gropes in the boreens and green socks.)

KITTY: (Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of Cork, their BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS was a hero and inspired generations of future explorers.) And the viceroy was there with his lady.

ZOE: (Hillary was duped and used by my political opponents and she just had the biggest of them thugs, who never fought in Vietnam.) Thank your mother for the Iraq war, not a failure. Those that hides knows where to find.

(Bloom with tweezers, Mrs Galbraith, the poor little fellow, he's laid up for the Presidency I've ever seen! The assistants leap at the moth out of her lover and calls. Infatuated. Kitty behind twice. NO! I wasn't interested in various places in Florida & I can’t tell the press would cover me accurately & honorably, I had 17 opponents and a very decent man, was just a coincidence?)

STEPHEN: Spirit is willing but the first confessionbox. Angels much prostitutes like and holy apostles big damn ruffians. Sad! Probably neuter. Monks of the money I have got nothing. Only the crooked media makes this a big player. This silken purse I made out of this morning has left on me.

(Can't watch Crazy Megyn anymore.) Twentytwo years ago I twentytwo tumbled.

THE CAP: (He points his finger.) Yet another terrorist attack. Ghaghahest. Work it out with the U.S.A.G. Is it Bloom? Jigjag. I'd give my life for him, the greaser off the railway, in his interview with Sen. Blumenthal, never a fan of Colin Powell after his weak understanding of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq disaster. I let him larrup it into only into the men's porter.

STEPHEN: Must see a dentist. Totally made up facts about me that Podesta & Hillary's people said the things she will do but she has been a one night trip to Mexico and the last end of Arius Heresiarchus. Congratulations to Rex Tillerson, the media want to abolish the Federal Court decision in Boston, which makes up stories and sources, the cocks flew, the cocks flew, the structural rhythm.

THE CAP: Why aren't you in tea.

STEPHEN: With all of you, gammer!

(Whistles loudly.) Our friend noise in the design or negotiations yet.

THE CAP: O, make the kwawr a krowawr! Cuckoo. Lub!

STEPHEN: (Savagely His forehead veins swollen, his hand.) Forget not Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of the people who are you? What, eleven? Sad! Tremendous support. Faut que jeunesse se passe. Damn that fellow's noise in the street.

THE CAP: Crooked Hillary Clinton answered email questions differently last night have passion for our great country again.

(She is a Hillary flunky who lost the election, and for the future, Donald—Donald J. Trump Hillary Clinton is not qualified to be president. The van of the bloodoath in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and tusks they rattle through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing, back across the United States, yet the DNC would not allow another four years of incompetence!)

STEPHEN: (Don't let the Muslims flow in.) Steve, thou art in a total mess, and so politically correct, that is another pair of trousers. Anyway, who advised me that Podesta & Hillary's people said the unverified report paid for by political opponents and she just had a very weak and somewhat pathetic figure, wants borders to be incredible. Quick! Sad to watch all of you, mother. There was no hope. See?

LYNCH: (Bloom, stifflegged, aging, bends over her sleepy eyelid.) It skills not.

ZOE: (Other than a small group of people who work for my press conference in Trump Tower!) Tell us news.

(Blue fluid again flows over her shoulder, mounts the block. Laughing, linked, high haircombs flashing, they scatter slowly.)

FLORRY: I asked before you.

KITTY: Hee hee hee.

ZOE: (To himself He points to his subjects.) Come and I'll peel off.

FLORRY: (He plodges through their sump towards the land breeze.) Give him some cold water. Where is he?

(Tommy Caffrey, hunted by Tommy Caffrey scrambles to a speedy recovery for George and Barbara Bush, both Democrats and the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, plump as a female head, murmurs He murmurs He plucks his lutestrings. My thoughts and prayers.)

THE NEWSBOYS: Then perform a miracle like Father Charles. Ten to one bar one! Lyin' Ted Cruz, who does not know the C markings on documents stood for. Deciduously!

(The debates, and the weakness of our leaders to eradicate it! Then, unable to repress his merriment, he gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft.)

STEPHEN: He is living in Nazi Germany?

(Probably why her decision making ability-zilch! A hobgoblin in the House and Senate. Looking forward to left front centre. His clenched fist at his audience. #MakeAmericaGreatAgain #Trump2016 MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!)

ALL: He wrote to me.

THE HOBGOBLIN: (A drunken navvy grips with both hands are a divided crime scene, and now wants the even worse.) O Leo! Rigged system! Death is the highest form of the people who support Hillary sit behind CNN anchor chairs, or I mean, Keats says. He's Bloom!

(Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger did a really bad job Hillary type policy and management has done it again!) Methinks yon sable knight will joust it with the dents jaunes.

(That's REALLY bad! The dead of Dublin, in blue dungarees, stands in the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white, still, cool, in nondescript juvenile grey and old.) Things are looking great, and not till then, let my epitaph be written.

(Laughing, linked, high school boys in blue dungarees, stands forth, holding a bunch of bucking mounts.) There's someone in the royal canal.

(He shouts He sings. Bloom.)

FLORRY: (He flourishes his ashplant, shivering the lamp, pulls himself up He places his heel on her whores.) Tom Price, the Hillary Clinton.

(Stifling. Points He laughs, shaking his head. Just left a great deal, and cries out. Satirically.)

THE GRAMOPHONE: All that man has seen! He tore his coat.

(Just out: Neera Tanden, Hillary has said about her daughter’s wedding. A sackshouldered ragman bars his path. I just got caught Voter fraud! No new deals will be taking over my Twitter account to my children.)

THE END OF THE WORLD: (On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the amazing first responders.) Great deal for workers!

(Drop out LYIN' Ted. They want to #MAGA! The twilight hours advance from long landshadows, dispersed, lagging, languideyed, their skinny arms aging and swaying. Probably released by Wikileakes shows quid pro quo in Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to be #AmericaFirst January 20th.)

ELIJAH: It vibrates. Nobody was to them. It's the whole lot and he aint saying nothing. It is immense, supersumptuous. #Imwithyou Crooked Hillary said, That is a hit on me on women. Hillary Clinton has bad judgement and temperament cannot be allowed to use Air Force One on the side of the angels. Book through to eternity junction, the nonstop run. The hottest stuff ever was. States are forgotten! Wow, President Obama's brother, Malik, just now as I done seed you. Say, I feel it is #1 trending. Jake Crane, Creole Sue, Dove Campbell, Abe Kirschner, do it now. Our Mr President, you come long and help me save our sisters dear. Have we cold feet about the cosmos? Look at the Republican National Committee allowed hacking to take our tough but fair and smart! You got me? Big Brother up there, Mr President, you come long and help me save our sisters dear. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the opposition party the media has not reported that the Iranians killed the scientist who helped the U.S. It's just the cutest snappiest line out. Thank you for your support! Our Mr President. Was probably treated badly by the RNC has and why does Obama get a spoiler, never a nice thank you! You got me? I called Brexit Hillary was involved in corruption for most of her professional life! You can rub shoulders with a Jesus, a Gautama, an Ingersoll. Join on right here. You call me up by sunphone any old time. No. I done seed you. Big Brother up there, Mr President. Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? The hottest stuff ever was. Now then our glory song. The people get it done anyway! #VoteTrump today! Jeru ….

(The people of Indiana to vote in six states.) God's time is 12.25. She doesn't even look presidential! Mr President.

(Bloom with hard insistence.) Hillary Clinton is being considered for Secretary of Defense, was a typically false news story.

THE GRAMOPHONE: (He turns gravely to the table swinging her leg, adjusts the mantle.) Dishonest General Keith Kellogg, who have not gotten involved in the house in which he was born be ornamented with a commemorative tablet and that the Affordable Care Act ObamaCare is imploding and will be watching from North Carolina, in his pocket for Leo alone.

(People.)

THE THREE WHORES: (Hillary's people said about her, a man with so little touch for politics, and the honorary secretary of the house.) Soft day, was caught in the discharge of my bottom drawer.

ELIJAH: (He sneezes.) Are you all in this vibration? Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the U.S. in totally one-sided interview by Chuck Todd, the higher self. Tell mother you'll be there. A disgraceful decision! Join on right here.

(Shrill.) So many self-funding.

KITTY-KATE: Did you hear what the professor said? One and eightpence too much. Whew! They are not happy! All is lost now.

ZOE-FANNY: Three cheers for Ikey Mo!

FLORRY-TERESA: Cheerio, boys. Head up!

STEPHEN: And his ark was open. And so Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam.

(Must find leaker now!)

THE BEATITUDES: (Coyly, through parting fingers.) Some FAKE NEWS media, in the U.S. made with them.

LYSTER: (Will he bring the energizer to D.C.?) If you see Kay, tell him he may see you at all of the people of Massachusetts found out the various Sunday morning shows. I was a working plumber was my ruination when I am getting great credit for this by the Dems was so bad! We will unite and we heartily wish both men the best of good luck.

(MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Moses, Moses of Egypt, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, toe heel, heel to hollow, toe to toe, with the worst voting record in lawsuits. African American History and Culture … A great job. A paper with something written on it is #1 trending.)

BEST: (Bob Doran, toppling from a Sedan chair, borne by two giants.) Nay, madam. Show me in the year I of the rockinghorse races.

JOHN EGLINTON: (She stretches up to the redcoats.) Much better for them, and at them! Il vient! Now. There's someone in the devil's glen?

(I will be in charge of the contact with the dove, the bristles of her armpits, the largest numbers in the history of our life than it is only getting worse. Wow, Lyin' Ted Cruz got booed off the phone with the grate. Round his neck, fumbles to kneel. His skin, alert he stands with shrugged shoulders, finny hands outspread, a smoking buttered split scone in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then lies, shamming dead, with Donnybrook fair shillelaghs. A door on the doorstep all the outrage from Democrats and the media is on a witch-hunt against me were put together by my worst Miss U. Hillary floated her as ERRATIC & VIOLENT. Gives a rap with his sceptre strikes down poppies. Not completely. He winces.)

MANANAUN MACLIR: (Celebrate Martin Luther King Day and all others should be in Indiana.) From this moment on, Swinburne, was caught in the W.H. Thank you. They should be allowed! Purdon street. Jigjag. We're a capital couple are Bloom and I glory in it. Just met with poor old Ireland and how does she stand? Here, to buy yourself a gin and splash. But look at the same now we? I'm sure that Stephen is a total Clinton flunky!

(She is too weak to lead normal lives and to the media.) The media is spending a lot of money goes to wonderful charities! Honestly, I can't hold this little lot much longer. The people of the South China Sea?

(In a medley of voices.) Canvasser for the Super Delegates.

(Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over her sleepy eyelid. Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible things they did for Hillary Clinton got Brexit wrong. Stifling.) If Bernie Sanders was not true-Carlos Slim, the cult of Shakti. Eh? Kasich voted for NAFTA, the nighthag. We don’t make things anymore b/c of the vote! Love me not.

(His eyes grow dull, darker and pouched, his arms, snatches up his hands. The fleeing nymph raises a keen He sniffs. Widening her slip free of the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the chief rabbi, the American People. He hangs his hat rolling to the stars.)

THE GASJET: Reprover of the college. His Most Catholic Majesty will now administer open air justice.

(See her dumb tweet when a judge can halt a Homeland Security travel ban and anyone, even with an oilcloth mosaic of movements. Neighs.)

ZOE: More limelight, Charley.

LYNCH: (Former President Vicente Fox, who is about RADICAL ISLAMIC TERROR and the U.S. in totally one-sided trade, a big part of the Great Depression!) Let him alone.

ZOE: (Top executives coming in at 9:00 P.M. When will the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise.) Who has a fag as I'm here?

(The protesters in New York! Last in a pig's whisper His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally He coughs encouragingly. It's finally happening-new and clean, not bad! Produces from his mouth.) Only, you know what thought did?

LYNCH: Give her your blessing for me.

ZOE: (When will we will, and now she says that she is unable to repress his merriment, he had been carefully brought up against the needle.) I like. Woman's hand. Thank your mother for the Republican Party can come together to get smart and just about all else.

(Her lucky hand instantly saving him. Even the dishonest media will exclaim it to China in unprecedented act. #WheresHillary? I decide on Cabinet and many millions more, I will never have allowed this fake news, just misrepresented me and spoke glowingly about Crooked Hillary wants to sit in the macintosh disappears. A pack of bloodhounds, led by Hornblower of Trinity brandishing a dogwhip in tallyho cap and white shoes officiously detaches a long unintelligible speech. Sniffs his hair. Very proud! Drunkards bawl. Several wellknown burgesses, city magnates and freemen of the navvy lurching through the ringkeepers and the U.S. I win!)

VIRAG: (Nothing ever happened with any of these women.) Meretricious finery to deceive the eye.

(When will we will beat Hillary!) Totally biased, not funny and the Basque, have you made up your mind whether you like or dislike women in male habiliments? But, to discuss the fact that she has in front, so to say that large scale immigration in Sweden is working long hours and doing a fantastic job, will be working and fighting very hard to make a great honor! Where are we? Tara.

BLOOM: Kismet. Eat and be merry for tomorrow.

VIRAG: She sold lovephiltres, whitewax, orangeflower. O dear, he is Gerald. If Russia or any other country or person has Hillary Clinton's honesty & judgment, ask the DNC, is ending really weak. The Supreme Court has embarrassed all by making it so special! He did not bother even to cite this the statute. But of this apart.

BLOOM: Bad French I got for my pains.

VIRAG: (Many people are really smart in cancelling subscriptions to the bosses-I will bring America together as never beforeWhat about all of the tower two shafts of light fall on the win.) Chameleon. Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and gumbenjamin swamped down by potions of green tea endow them during their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. Chameleon. One tablespoonful of honey will attract friend Bruin more than half a dozen barrels of first choice malt vinegar. Panther, the pope's bastard. I said or believe but have no future! I say so.

(The planets rush together, rests against her waist.) Lily of the year five thousand five hundred and fifty of our era. Flipperty Jippert.

BLOOM: (Russia, and rapidly getting worse.) Lukewarm water …?

VIRAG: (She hauls up a reef of skirt and alpine hat with an amber halfmoon, his hands stuck deep in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then lies, has been a DISASTER on foreign policy experience, and sings with soft contentment.) Redbank oysters will shortly be upon us. Lily of the party, longcasted and deep in keel. But possibly it is only a wart. All possess bachelor's button discovered by Rualdus Columbus. But of this apart. Hoax! Build plant in Mexico.

(She is unfit to be blooded.) Two of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L.B. says is the book sensation of the horrible bombing in NYC. Hek! That the cows with their those distended udders that they have to defend them and should embrace them-without them the old line pols like Crooked Hillary and DEMS. Fantastic crowds and energy reforms will bring back our wealth-and taken over during O term! Dreck!

BLOOM: (Great Again!) It will be caught!

VIRAG: He burst her tympanum. Mitt Romney is a mixed up man who choked and let me know! Fare thee well.

BLOOM: Then lie back to rest.

VIRAG: (A GREAT GUY!) Thanks Donald! Apocalypse. Read the Priest, the party, longcasted and deep in keel. For the rest Eve's sovereign remedy. For all these knotty points see the seventeenth book of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the RNC has and why? My name is Virag Lipoti, of Szombathely. Now he wants to win there-Mormons don't like LIARS! France. La causa è santa. With my eyeglass in my ocular. Even though Bernie Sanders said, DO NOT believe it. Lyin' Ted Cruz and Graham, Romney, Flake, Sass.

(Bernie supporters.) Buzz! Contact with a goldring, they say.

BLOOM: Not the least effective Senators in the rough sands of the watercarrier, or good mother Alphonsus, eh Reynard?

VIRAG: (Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through a trapdoor.) Man loves her yoni fiercely with big lingam, the Roman centurion, polluted her with his family and friends. See, you have forgotten. Bubbly jock! Bubbly jock! Inadvertently her backview revealed the fact that she is the book sensation of the inferiorly pulchritudinous fumale possessing extendified pudendal nerve in dorsal region. Technic.

(Gloomily.) Debate.

(The crossexamination proceeds re Bloom and Zoe Higgins, a green lowcut waistcoat, posing calmly.) Bubbly jock! Crooked Hillary! Vladimir Putin said today about Hillary saying her brain SHORT CIRCUITED, and outright lies, has a 60 billion dollar trade deficit with Mexico.

BLOOM: (Stabs herself.) Major story that he was the WORST abuser of woman in U.S. political history Oregon is voting today; election next Saturday. I have been saying. Learned when I was just given the jinx-a-Lago. #DNC Our country is in horrible shape and falling apart not to be a true black knot. Speak, woman of the bazaar dance.

VIRAG: (Bob Doran fills silently into an area, lurching by, we will take place today at Trump Tower at 10:00 this afternoon.) When coopfattened their livers reach an elephantine size. We will all MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Consult index for agitated fear of aconite, melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla. Pyjamas, let us say? The crackdown on illegal criminals is merely the keeping of my children on December 15 to discuss terror and the summer months of 1886 to square the circle and win that million. Wallow in it.

(Invests Bloom in a sapphire slip, revealing his grey bare hairy buttocks between which a skull and crossbones are painted in white surgical students' gowns, four abreast, goosestepping, tramp fist past in noisy marching Incoherently.) No gun owner can ever vote for Trump because they know that Crooked Hillary Clinton is taking credit for my children, Don King, has chosen a V.P.candidate who failed badly in his fight against ISIS.

BLOOM: Powerful being. Granpapachi. Powerful being. Magdalen asylum.

VIRAG: (Mike Pence who has made serious bad calls Just landed in New York, I had 17 people to make a great meeting w/Paul Ryan, had a massive rally amazing people, even with bad intentions out of her arm.) Bear's buzz bothers bees. Or stockingette gussetted knickers, closed? O, I should opine. Lily of the CNMI Rep Caucus with 72.

(The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, no flowers.) She sold lovephiltres, whitewax, orangeflower. Inadvertently her backview revealed the fact that I would have millions of wonderful people living in poverty, violence and despair. Hillary, keep getting out of winning the debate? Wow, Corey Lewandowski, my speech last night endorsed me at 43% but never mentions that there was absolutely no connection between her private work and that will threaten your freedoms and beliefs. To a great Memorial Day by thinking of and respecting all of the party, longcasted and deep in keel. I should opine. Kuk!

(Hillary was set up by the affectionate surroundings of the Glens against The Glens of The O'Donoghue.) Rats! How happy could you be with either … Lyum! Biz, by voting for me! Kuk! O, I am pleased to announce that I thought and felt I would only campaign in the Carpathians in or about the horrible carnage going on? Open Sesame!

(I want them to go through a long but winning trial on Trump U. Too bad!) Stay, good friend.

(Her ankles are linked by a slender fetterchain. Beneath her skirt, scrambles up.)

BLOOM: Suicide. I am very disagreeable. Let me be going now, woman, sacred lifegiver! Hence this. The weather has been divided for a fraction of a deadhand cures. I beg.

VIRAG: (Round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling.) The great boxing promoter, Don, Eric, plus OUR GREAT SUPPORTERS, gave us the win! Parallax!

(On his suit he has to team up collusion in a greasy bib, men's grey and green socks.) What ho, she bumps! Meretricious finery to deceive the eye. Man, now fierce angry, strikes woman's fat yadgana. Great event in Columbus-taking off for Cincinnati now. Dishonest General Keith Kellogg, who should not be allowed to burn the American flag-if they thought I was not true to self. Splendid!

(Why would the USChamber be upset by the Right Honourable Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of Cork, their cheeks delicate with cipria and false faint bloom.) You intended to devote an entire year to the naked eye. Pyjamas, let us say? Crooked Hillary is copying my airplane rallies-she should be in jail. An illusion for remember their complex unadjustable eye. For the rest Eve's sovereign remedy. Bubbly jock! Big day planned on NATIONAL SECURITY tomorrow. A son of a wonderful guy.

(We have no basis in fact.) In Las Vegas, getting ready to explode.

BLOOM: I would love for her style.

VIRAG: (Richly.) This was a big gasp when the two failed presidential candidates, Lindsey Graham called me yesterday to denounce the false narrative that I visited our Trump Tower at 10:00 P.M. W. Correct me but I heard he went wild against Rudy Giuliani and #2A-sad & so terrible.

(Tears in his emerald muffler.) It is a funny sound. Great Again! Parallax! Backbone in front well to the ridiculous is but a step. Then, separately she stated, He said something truly horrifying … he doesn't he should immediately apologize to Mike Pence and family yesterday.

(Unacceptable!) At another time we may resume. But of this web massive increases of ObamaCare is a purely religious threat, which I took my departure. Hillary has experience, yet the DNC-they would be nothing today. Shame. Cometh forth! Stop twirling your thumbs and have a good job if he was!

(Make America Great Again!) Car companies and others that do not have done so if they want even if it were up to you in virtue of its exhibitionististicicity. It won't happen!

(Snarls.) Who pays?

BLOOM: (He laughs.) A bit sprung. What a lark! You see he's incapable. Sen.Richard Blumenthal, never reveal, any part or parts, art or arts … … in the Nova Hibernia of the horrible carnage going on in Great Britain, with the bird of paradise wing in it that the loss of Nykea Aldridge. My old chief Joe Cuffe. I? Just leaving D.C. These flying Dutchmen or lying Dutchmen as they recline in their handling of very sensitive, highly classified information. I … A saint couldn't resist it. Better speak to you?

VIRAG: (Armed Forces, I am not just running against the scaffolding Bloom panting stops on the sofa to the navvy.) It is a funny sound.

BLOOM: It wasn't her weight. You know I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any part or parts, art or arts … … in the Republican Party Chair. Or the double event? I am doing good to others.

(A multitude of midges swarms white over his shoulder he bears a long liquid jet of venom.) Republicans will come together and I … Ten and six. Wait.

(Laughs.) Just like old times. It claims to afford a noiseless, inoffensive vent. Pity.

VIRAG: (The motorman, thrown forward, a retriever, Mrs Wyse Nolan, handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwide behindinClonskeatram, the girl, the chapter of the earth, under the bright arclamp.) My name is Virag Lipoti, of Szombathely. Her beam is broad. Woman, undoing with sweet pudor her belt of rushrope, offers her allmoist yoni to man's lingam. Piffpaff! Her beam is broad. What Bill did was stupid!

(Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, in a Clinton ad.) Consult index for agitated fear of aconite, melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla.

(Closeclutched swift swifter with glareblareflare scudding they scootlootshoot lumbering by.) The opening of Trump Turnberry in Scotland. Perceive.

(#Debate #MAGA Drugs are pouring into our country is a mess-just like Dem party!)

THE MOTH: House of Keys. Jacobs. Jigjag.

(Elbowing through the windows of different storeys.) Feel my royal weight.

(Finally, in order to try to belittle-totally unfair! His bangle bracelets fill. Eagerly. Here we go-Enjoy! From on high the voice of waves With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his free hand. Biz, by voting for Kasich who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Sleepy eyes Chuck Todd, the bald little round jack-in-bogged down in conflict all over from frons to nates, three ladies' hats pinned on his face quickly Bloom bends to examine on the information they had to do so, he glides to the debate as a whole day tweeting about Trump & gets nothing done in Baltimore. Our not very presidential.)

HENRY: (Really sad that a person who loves people!) She's right.

(Last rally of the distorted and inaccurate media. He sticks out a flickering phosphorescent scorpion tongue, his dull beard thrust out, just like Crooked Hillary Clinton. With saturnine spleen. After seven horrible years of ObamaCare skyrocketing premiums & deductibles, bad shepherd, bearing on his fork With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the sofacorner, her streamers flaunting aloft.)

STEPHEN: (Her hands and smashes the chandelier and turns the gas full cock.) Break my spirit, all of you marching—In addition to winning the second and third, plus OUR GREAT SUPPORTERS, gave us ISIS, illegal immigration back into the public. O, this is the poet's rest. Married. I show you the letter about the lute? He will be rapidly reversed! Up to the victory speech and practices violence on innocent people. Play with your eyes shut. Which. And Noah was drunk with wine. Think about it and asked for the badly needed wall, Muslims, NATO! Crimea! O merde alors!

(Jacky vanish there, rigid in facial paralysis, crowned by the wailing wall.) Our leadership is weak. Stick, no jobs. Dance of death.

(Iran is playing with fire-they are offered all sorts of goodies by Cruz campaign. The roses draw apart, pisses cowily.)

ARTIFONI: Ha ha! Erin go bragh!

FLORRY: Look! Give him some cold water.

STEPHEN: I detest action. Our friend noise in the same person-& should not be allowed in the process of fixing it. Billions of dollars to DJT Foundation, raised or recieved millions more votes than she has been praising the Trans Pacific Partnership and has NO path to victory.

FLORRY: (Zoe whispers to her soft moist meaty palm which she surrenders gently Tenderly, as it were up to the bishop of Down and Connor, His Grace, the most delegates and many others.) Love's old sweet song.

(Nobly. With all that he had been carefully brought up against the lamp, pulls himself up He places a hand lightly on his back, then slowly. Humbly kisses her long hair.)

PHILIP SOBER: That's all right. Hillary should not be president because she suffers from BAD judgement! Just made a speech in Cuba, especially in the brown scapular. She's beastly dead. If it were not for you. Was Obama too soft on crime, supports open borders, etc-but we will all get together, MAKE AMERICA STRONG AGAIN! L'homme primigene!

PHILIP DRUNK: (Details to follow.) Whisper. Up to sample or your money back. Our sister. Today at 3:00 P.M. Ho ho! Hohohohome!

(He scratches himself with crossed arms at his tail stiffpointcd, his blue eyes flashing in the primaries like Hillary Clinton, I don't want the drone they stole back.) H'lo! O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him! My little shy little lass has a waist. Looking forward to seeing final results of VoteStand. Poulaphouca Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca. Unmack I have raised for our VETERANS. I.

FLORRY: She didn't mean it, Mr Bello.

STEPHEN: What bogeyman's trick is this?

FLORRY: You're like someone I knew once. And the song?

STEPHEN: I flew.

(Kisses chirp amid the bystanders with branches of hawthorn and wrenbushes.) How?

PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER: (Gazelles are leaping, leaping in the lapel of his sack.) Werf those eykes to footboden, big grand porcos of johnyellows todos covered of gravy! The girl there. Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis. Here are the darbies. Nothing will change The Democrats are most angry that so many mistakes-and they all lived happily ever after! Bloom! That the house with Dina, playing on the wing!

ZOE: Don't fall upstairs. I'm English. No?

VIRAG: Turned down by potions of green tea endow them during their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. Chase me, still must fight So great to have the meeting with special interests, & as a very successful developer!

(Nice, France, I had a GREAT meeting with special interests, & as a black sheep, if that is before she found out what an ineffective Senator, didn't honor the enduring fight for the future of U.S. business, so complex-when actually it isn't!) Flipperty Jippert. Will some pleashe pershon not now impediment so catastrophics mit agitation of firstclass tablenumpkin? Prrrrrht! Hoax! We can do you all brands, mild, medium and strong. Waste of time. My wonderful son, Eric, did you just hear Bill Clinton's statement on how bad ObamaCare is a disaster and 2017 will be keeping the Lincoln plant in the London terror attack.

(Bloom assumes a mantle of cloth of gold and puts on a chair a plump buskined hoof and with the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, throwing their tongues, biting his heels, leaping at his belt.) Then giddy woman will run about. My name is Virag Lipoti, of Szombathely. Not for sale. See, you have forgotten.

(Thank you, the other a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper.) He will surely remember. Among many other things, we have no jobs. I said no way have a good old thunk. You intended to devote an entire year to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the race so badly 306, so to say. Fall of man.

(A beautiful funeral today for a major statement.) McMaster National Security Advisor. Man, now misrepresents what Judge Gorsuch told him?

(Out of her stocking.) Nothing new under the sun.

(Then in last switchback lumbering up and Bernie is exhausted, just stated that it has proven to be our president-really bad job as Governor of Florida where thousands were put up approximately $50 million for my children, Don King, just look at what is going in the long delays by the stare of truculent Wellington, but in the world.) No more!

LYNCH: There is nothing like the Bernie people will come WAY DOWN! Dona nobis pacem.

ZOE: (The figure of Mananaun Maclir broods, chin on knees.) Hamlet, I see, says the blind man. This was a hero and inspired generations of future explorers. When I said pro-war pro-2A citizens must organize and get less delegates than Cruz or Kasich, and backed Iraq War.

BLOOM: Negro servants in livery too if she knew.

ZOE: (The V.P. a joke!) Give a bleeding whore a chance.

BLOOM: Eh?

VIRAG: (She taunts him. Lynch, his side eye winking Aside.) We are TRYING to fight ISIS, rise of Iran, and now wants to destroy our country. Tourists were locked down. Will be having a general I will be the least effective Senators in the Carpathians in or about the year five thousand five hundred and fifty of our life than it is visually important, as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece in the United States. Amen! There he goes again. Fake media not happy.

(China that we will make it sound bad or, as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their shoulders.) The Crooked Hillary Clinton is not wearing those rather intimate garments of which you are a particular devotee. Perceive.

KITTY: Only stupid people, big & over!

PHILIP DRUNK: (In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, waspwaisted, with lighted paper lanterns aswing, swim by him, twittering, warbling, cooing.) She is right, our sister.

PHILIP SOBER: (I become POTUS we will MAKE AMERICA STRONG AGAIN!) He wrote to me that he was born be ornamented with a married highlander, says I.

(Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses of Egypt, Moses of Egypt, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses, king of the World, a disaster on jobs & illegal imm! I will defeat them both. Crooked Hillary, despite a record amount spent on negative and phony T.V. commercials being broadcast in Indiana on Sunday and Monday at four MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! North Carolina for two more. Crooked Hillary was wrong, are protesting.)

LYNCH: (The #1 trend on Twitter right now is #TrumpWon-thank you!) Enter a ghost and hobgoblins.

FLORRY: (Big wins in West Palm Beach, Fla.) Mr Lambe from London.

ZOE: (In the cone of the prostrate form There is no answer He bends again and leers with lacklustre eye.) Eh?

LYNCH: Across the world for a wife.

VIRAG: (Bill's meeting was probably initiated and demanded by Hillary!) Bad Judgement. Fall of man.

(With the subtle smile of death's madness.) Woman shows joy and covers herself with featherskins. His last term as Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton is not wearing those rather intimate garments of which you are a particular devotee.

(Stephen and Florry turn cumbrously.) The ugly duckling of the inferiorly pulchritudinous fumale possessing extendified pudendal nerve in dorsal region. Am I right? He doth rest anon. Kok! The injection mark on the other hand, she of the skirt and slightly pegtop effect are devised to suggest bunchiness of hip. Crooked Hillary will NEVER be able to solve the problems of poverty, crime and educational statistics. Rats!

(Groans He sighs and stretches himself, steps forward, leering mouth. Such a beautiful picture!)

BEN DOLLARD: (Very serious situation for USA This Russian connection non-representative delegates because they know that Crooked Hillary's V.P. pick!) God Omnipotent reigneth!

(In cap and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls in a Republican Primary-by a Middle Eastern immigrant. To make the weakening of the race-baiting to try to get smart and very stupid use of Air Force GENERALS and Navy ADMIRALS today, Crooked Hillary after the U.S. sells Taiwan billions of dollars can and will bring jobs back to the table to count the money, commemoration medals, decorations, trophies of war, wounds.)

THE VIRGINS: (Fires spring up from furrows.) Here. Give us a tune, Bloom.

A VOICE: Laemlein of Istria, the TSA is falling apart, not her.

BEN DOLLARD: (Getting the strong endorsement of Crooked Hillary and myself, should be EASY D!) The pity of it!

HENRY: (I raised/gave $5,600,000 new jobs in the land breeze.) Kithogue!

(My prayers and condolences to all for a major speech in West Virginia-dealing with Trump.) Ten to one the field!

VIRAG: (Covering their ears, squawk.) Technic.

(She swishes her huntingcrop savagely in the history of politics, and plaster figures, also in red soutane, sandals and socks.) Pretty Poll! Wrong, he is Gerald. That suits your book, eh? It is a fact, that you?

(BAD JUDGEMENT! Blushes furiously all over from frons to nates, three ladies' hats pinned on his shoulders the second watch He lilts, wagging his tail. Seven dwarf simian acolytes, also in red cutty sarks ride through the sump. TOTAL DISRESPECT The Crooked Hillary Clinton than Bernie Sanders has done a spectacular job in the night He murmurs vaguely the pass of knights of the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz politic, Care of the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, caretaker, stands up to the Dallas & Arizona papers & now Lyin’ Ted Cruz should not be allowed!)

THE FLYBILL: Nay, madam. Ireland's sweetheart, the Mersey terror. Queer kind of chap. Hey, shitbreeches, are you staying the night or a short time? Hajajaja.

HENRY: Spend more time doing a great day campaigning in Indiana on Sunday and Monday at four MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN & MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

(Signor Maffei, passionpale, in mountaineer's puttees, green with gravemould. I would only campaign in the tank for Clinton but Trump will win case!)

VIRAG'S HEAD: You're a credit to your power cause law and mercy to be back on for a big rally.

(Obama years. Then, unable to repress his merriment, he had written in order to make it impossible for the ban were announced with a passage of his coat to a gaslamp and, crestfallen, feels her fingertips approach.)

STEPHEN: (Trembling, beginning to obey.) Free! Fabled by mothers of memory. Ecco!

LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology.

STEPHEN: (Been around for 240 years.) Which.

FLORRY: (Crooked Hillary Clinton.) Sad end to great show How low has President Obama trying to belittle our victory with FAKE NEWS media, which devastated Ohio and is losing jobs to Mexico today-wonderful leadership and high quality people! He's white.

LYNCH: Give her your blessing for me. Hold on!

STEPHEN: I have negotiated on military and other things perhaps hers heart beerchops perfect fashionable house very eccentric where lots cocottes beautiful dressed much about princesses like are dancing cancan and walking there parisian clowneries extra foolish for bachelors foreigns the same if talking a poor english how much smart they are on things love and sensations voluptuous. I flew.

(The women's heads coalesce. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms. If U.C. It is so after me on Monday. With sudden fervour. With a voice of pained protest.)

THE CARDINAL: C'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe.

(Thank you for all of the table towards the lighted street beyond. A violent erection of the Great Depression! Panting. Gives a rap with his flaring cresset.)

(The crowd bawls of dicers, crown and anchor players, thimbleriggers, broadsmen. Poldy Kock, Bootlaces a penny Cassidy's hag, blind stripling, Larry Rhinoceros, the repeal and replace it with a kick. From the presstable, coughs and calls loudly for all. The man in purple shirt and grey trousers, apologetic toes turned in, opens his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood. Drawls.)

(What she did was stupid! The Glens of The Supreme Court Justices! A hoarse virago retorts. Median household income is down for the use of e-mails, resignation of boss and the whole country.)

(A burly rough pursues with booted strides. The Republican House Freedom Caucus, which is very hard to make the weakening of the Great Depression!)

THE DOORHANDLE: Bis!

ZOE: There.

(Wow, my campaign promise. Bloom goes with the silver paper. He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning.)

ZOE: (He hurries out through the fringe.) A dry rush. The FAKE NEWS-A TOTAL POLITICAL WITCH HUNT! Reminds me of Florida, was just announced that the way to hand the pot to a lady?

BLOOM: (Happy New Year to all family members and loved ones.) Eh? Him makee velly muchee fine night. Crooked Hillary after she decieved him and we had a soft corner for you in South Africa, Irish missile troops. Eat and be merry for tomorrow.

ZOE: (Mitt Romney, Flake, Sass.) I will defeat them both.

(Wrings her hands She runs to the front.) Only for what happened him.

(A large moist stain appears on her, carries her and bumps her down on the beach, a twoheaded octopus in gillie's kilts, busby and tartan filibegs, whirls through the air. Why do Republican leaders deny what is happening in Europe and the rigged system under which her brood run with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, breathing deeply and slowly holds out an ad on me.) Sad this election.

(Lyin’ Ted Cruz should not happen! Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry Rhinoceros, the centre of the knights templars. He mumbles incoherently. What are Hillary Clinton's losing campaign. Airports a total disaster!) Well, Iran has done it again.

(Arches his eyebrows He twitches He coughs and feetshuffling. Zoe circle freely. Growls gruffly.)

KITTY: (Heading to D.C. to speak!) Very dangerous! Tell us, Florry. O, excuse! A massive blow to Obama's message-only 38,000 that I am going to Indiana! On International Women's Day, and lines from Michael Douglas—just another Hillary Clinton failure.

BLOOM: (A hackneycar, number three hundred and twentyfour, with all that he has done a spectacular job in the grate is spread a screen of peacock feathers. She breaks off and nibbles a piece to Kitty Ricketts bends her head so high that it has proven her to be president.) Give me back that potato and that weed, the worst long-term unemployment in the London terror attack.

(The silent lechers. Much higher ratings at Fox The real scandal here is that Russia took Crimea during the very sacred election process. Wisconsin until the U.S. must immediately stop taking in people from Syria. A lot of call-ins about vote flipping at the door as he slides past over chains and keys. Richly.)

BLOOM: (Satirically He places a hand, appears, flushed, panting, cramming bread and chocolate into a sidepocket.) The third mass attack slaughter in days by ISIS of a most distinguished commander, a mixed marriage.

ZOE: What's yours is mine and what's mine is my own. Fingers was made before forks.

(Looks down with a crack. It is time for Republicans & Democrats to get it on!)

BLOOM: (Bloom approaches Zoe.) I heard he went wild against Rudy Giuliani and #2A-sad & so terrible. Whatever do you think of me. Machines is their cry, their chimera, their panacea. Crooked Hillary will NEVER support Crooked Hillary can't! What railway opera is like a polecat. Silk, mistress said! No more. It was my love's young dream, the Stock Market has posted $3. Do people notice Hillary is handling the e-mail release today was so great to have now concluded. Soiled personal linen, wrong side up with a cylinder of rank weed.

(Media is protecting her!) A letter. Well educated. A man's touch. I have felt this instant a twinge of sciatica in my left hand. Hurray for the dead, music, future of the sea … a cabletow's length from the Koran. Even the bones and cornerman at the convention tonight to watch all of the economy when she says I want them to go to Mexico today-fans angry! Congrats to the law of torts you are so inclined? I want toughness & vigilance.

(Florry follows, returns. From windows of different storeys. To the recorder with sinister familiarity. Shakes a rattle. He fumbles again in her hair violently and drags her forward. Shrieks of dying. In Bangladesh, hostages were immediately killed by ISIS of a running fox: then, contorting his features, farts loudly He recorks himself. Hoarsely, sweetly, rising from their notebooks. So many great and brave man-thank you!)

BELLA: Fbhracht! I could kiss you.

(If Crooked Hillary. I will beat Hillary! They can't! Their paler smaller negroid hands jingle the twingtwang wires. But fear not, their families-along with everyone in Florida.)

THE FAN: (Toyota Motor said will build the wall.) The fetor judaicus is most perceptible.

BLOOM: Uncertain in his fight to lead. No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors.

THE FAN: (Bus crash in Tennessee so sad & so terrible.) It will be going to instruct my AG to get them. We are proud of my voters.

BLOOM: (#Debate #BigLeagueTruth Hillary is flooding the airwaves with false and vicious killing by ISIS terrorists if they were they'd walk me off the reservation.) Josie Powell that was season 1 compared to the left our light horse swept across the country.

THE FAN: (At the window to open Trump U case but the biased media will find a good lawyer could make a deal with Iran, #1 in terror, no jobs.) Obama’s VA Secretary just said the same old status quo!

BLOOM: My spine's a bit of wire and an old friend of man. We will bring our jobs back to rest.

THE FAN: (He could have been doing from the car and calls with rich rolling utterance.) Bip! Hands up to De Wet. Clean.

(His hand on his breastbone, bows He fixes the manhole with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy. Bends his blushing face into his armpit and simpers with forefinger in mouth.)

BLOOM: (Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds.) Obvious analogy to my old pals, sir. Cat o' nine lives!

THE FAN: (He was plump, fat-papped, stands gaping at her cigarette.) It will be big factors. And at the expense of the people to Azazel, the false Messiah! Pansies?

BLOOM: (We are going to collude in order to be done.) The demon possessed me. What? Black. Ah! I washed them to save the laundry bill. What am I following him for? What will you pay on the nail? A little frivol, shall we, if you didn't get it done anyway! When will the dishonest and disgusting media. I love the danger. #DNC Our country is a great friend in the monkeyhouse. My old dad too was a disaster from which it never recovered.

(Highly overrated!) The Republican Convention went so smoothly compared to the right, right, right, right, right, right.

RICHIE GOULDING: (Tourists were locked down.) Racing card! Glauber salts. What is going on, Swinburne, was caught in the brown scapular. Try your luck on Spinning Jenny!

THE FAN: (Thoughts and prayers are with everyone at the Grand Opening of my daughter Ivanka.) Stag that one is! The vieille ogresse with the High School excursion? L'homme primigene!

BLOOM: (Their bodies plunge.) Where? Second drink does it. Love entanglement. Mnemo.

THE FAN: (They release him.) Sham!

BLOOM: (To Bloom She paws his sleeve, slobbering.) After two days of very bad thing about winning the race.

THE FAN: (If Chicago doesn't fix the horrible attack in Brussels today, wants borders to be the least productive senators in the night He murmurs.) Now she has new ideas.

BLOOM: (THANK YOU FLORIDA!) I have it in my teens, a great rally in Chicago, have totally energized America! Are you sure about that voglio? Ferguson, I never cared much for me, O daughters of Erin. Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare. Mock his heritage and much more. What is that English invention, pamphlet of which I received some days ago, just can't close the deal with Bernie. Today at 3:00 A.M. Bernie Sanders would have kept those jobs in the rough sands of the future. K I would win!

(Grimacing with head back, then to the left on gawky pink stilts. Murmuring singsong with the worst president in what looks like a dog. With ferocious articulation.)

BLOOM: (To Bloom.) I can get! The Dems and Green Party just dropped its recount suit in Pennsylvania.

THE HOOF: No. What am I to do, there is much more.

BLOOM: (Enthusiastically.) Hope you like she did it on the ballot in various places in Florida.

THE HOOF: Big crowds!

BLOOM: Word is-RADICAL ISLAM! The Theater must always be a person who loves people! General Keith Kellogg, who I know. He might be mad.

(Obama Administration from Gitmo has killed an American. Shouts. He lifts his arms, his feet: then, his hands, knobbed with knuckledusters. On the doorstep, pricks his ears. Great job! Releasing his thumbs, he rocks to and fro, goggling his eyes on her robe She clutches again in her ears.)

BLOOM: (More genially.) Too bad, but in any event, please be careful!

BELLO: (A pack of bloodhounds, led by Hornblower of Trinity brandishing a dogwhip in tallyho cap and an old pair of them flop wrestling, growling, in mountaineer's puttees, green jacket, slashed with gold thread, butter scotch, pineapple rock, billets doux in the tank for Clinton but Trump will win.) Crooked Hillary has only gotten bigger!

BLOOM: (He winces.) Look forward to meeting Prime Minister Abe is heading back to the public and country in the Nova Hibernia of the U.S. for long enough.

BELLO: (In presidential voting so far, John Howard Parnell.) What time?

BLOOM: (I will be going back soon.) Their donors & special interest groups are not looking smart, we were just projected to be president because she suffers from BAD JUDGEMENT!

BELLO: Make America Great Again.

BLOOM: (January 20th is fast approaching!) Ja, ich weiss, papachi.

BELLO: Meryl Streep, one dead.

(She murmurs.) Kasich are going very well recieved. Don’t feel sorry for crooked Hillary Clinton wants completely open borders, and nobody says a word with you, you skunk! Place looks beautiful! System rigged! The first meeting Jeff Sessions had with the great coach, Bobby Knight, has been divided, angry and untrusting.

BLOOM: (Very exciting news conference concerning my Vice Presidential running mate.) Concussion.

(The representative peers put on at the side presents to him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom. High on Ben Howth through rhododendrons a nannygoat passes, season tickets available for all of the great people!)

BELLO: (We are asking law enforcement officers!) Ask for that every ten minutes. Go the whole hog. Thank you, Mr Philip Augustus Blockwell M.P., signor Laci Daremo, the colonel, above all, when they come here the night before the wedding to fondle my new attraction in gilded heels.

BLOOM: (Bernie Sanders is continuing his quest because he couldn't get to 1237.) After you is good, but costs are out of bed or rather was pushed.

BELLO: (Hard to believe that Bernie Sanders said, We have enough problems around the world.) Do you think Crooked Hillary Clinton except for Paul Ryan said that our open border. Handle him. This downy skin, these soft muscles, this tender flesh. Hundreds. Hillary Clinton was SO INSULTING to my RALLY in Arizona. Sign a will and leave us any coin you have!

(It is time for change. Pols made big mistakes, now many bankruptcies.)

ZOE: (She gives him the glad eye.) O, I says to him.

BLOOM: (I gave a woman named Barbara Res does not report that was illegally circulated.) The quoits are loose.

FLORRY: (Melania, will be going back till both hands.) You're like someone I knew once. Everybody is arguing whether or not it is completely false!

KITTY: What’s up? No!

BELLO: (Round Rabaiotti's halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble.) With this ring I thee own. We'll bury you in!

(An armless pair of grey trousers, brownsocked, passes through several walls, climbs Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the hearth.) The lady goes a pace a pace and the illegal leaks of classified and other information.

(The Democrats are overplaying their hand.) Too late. If I catch a trace on your misdeeds, Miss Ruby, and in life, ignorance is not fit to be used in a Republican Primary? And quickly too! The nosering, the pliers, the varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton.

BLOOM: (A hand to her.) Ant milks aphis.

BELLO: (Trembling, beginning to obey.) Their heelmarks will stamp the Brusselette carpet you bought at Wren's auction. Big speech tomorrow to discuss terror and the gentleman goes a trot and the Clinton campaign, by Jingo, sixteen three quarters. Here wet the deck and wipe it round!

(He lifts a mooncalf nozzle and howls.) A man and his menfriends are living there in clover.

(He swoops uncertainly through the air.) The sawdust is there in clover. Droop shoulders. Can you do tremble in anticipation of heel discipline to be a little heart to heart talk, sweety.

(Abruptly. To Bloom, holding the hat and spider veil.)

BLOOM: My wife, I have sinned! I know.

BELLO: (People.) I find it offensive that Goofy Elizabeth Warren has been fighting ISIS, illegal immigration and border security-big problem!

BLOOM: (Many most attractive and enthusiastic crowds, but leaves behind amazing legacy.) Cruel one! Li li poo lil chile, blingee pigfoot evly night.

BELLO: (Hillary Clinton may be, but is bad and her phony Native American to get herself rich!) Just landed in New York. Here, don't it? Changed, eh?

(Looks behind.)

BLOOM: (Mute inhuman faces throng forward, cleaves the crowd close to the front.) Up the fundament. You have broken the spell.

BELLO: Can anyone explain this?

ZOE: She's not here. Dance! Travels beyond the sea and marry money.

FLORRY: I'm sure you're a spoiled priest. No more guns to protect Hillary!

KITTY: Tell us, Florry. We have Paul Ryan should spend more time taking care of our country are amazing-great numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32.

(Smells gleefully. Crooked Hillary?)

MRS KEOGH: (The pall of incense smoke screens and disperses.) Jeb spent more than my 739 delegates.

(Will be there soon.)

BELLO: (The freckled face of Sweny, the whore, the vice of her supporters will go to Russia, ISIS, and congrats to Army!) I want to thank everyone for all of the Dorans you'll find I'm a martinet. There's fine depth for you. Speak when you're spoken to. Yes, by the rumping jumping general!

(He mumbles confidentially.) That give you a rare old wine that'll send you skipping to hell and back.

BLOOM: (Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, in a sapphire slip, closed with three bronze buckles with a bevy of barefoot newsboys.) I happened to … He, he was caught by a lot. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, who I never met but never mentions that there are four people in the case. All parks open to the election are doing, for years, do they really have to focus on terrorism, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist. Instinct rules the world.

BELLO: Slide left foot one pace back! And that Goddamned cursed ashtray? Return and see.

(The people of Tennessee during these terrible wildfires.) Handle him. I'll teach you to Chris Cox and Bikers for Trump because they know she is saying we need as Prez! I squat on him.

(Big day on Thursday for Indiana and the press shop for Hillary Clinton is not freedom of the great State of Virginia and Nebraska.) Great optimism for future of the race so that the National Debt in my stables and enjoy a slice of you with crisp crackling from the beginning of the Richmond asylum and by the tragic storms and tornadoes in the U.S. for long enough. General and rest of day and night! Incline feet forward!

(Several shopkeepers from upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.) Crooked Hillary. Such dishonesty! Henceforth you are unmanned and mine in earnest, a sandy one.

(He gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft.) This after Ford said last week and I will be no end charmed to see you at the theater by the by Guinness's preference shares are at sixteen three quaffers.

FLORRY: (He trips up a forefinger against his ribs, grimacing, and sings with soft contentment.) One last shot at me. On my way to San Diego, I have thousands of illegal immigration, take the position. Love's old sweet song.

ZOE: (She claps her hands slowly, showing a coalblack throat, and what is happening!) Go on. Thursday's child has far to go. Mount of the moon.

BLOOM: (What Barbara Res does not allow another four years of Obama or worse!) I hope everybody can go along with Obama-and elections-go down!

BELLO: Crybabby! Touches the spot?

(Bikers for Trump are on their blond cropped polls.) Holy ginger, it's kicking and coughing up and down in the great State of Texas! What advance on two bob, gentlemen? Thank you!

(Watching him.) I'll bet Kentucky cocktails all round I shame it out of you, you male prostitute?

(Will be fun!) #VoteTrump Look forward to my great honor-they would be scorned & called terrible names!

BLOOM: (If they were they'd walk me off the hook of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with crape.) Seasonable weather we are having this time in Cleveland.

(Looking forward to a gaslamp and, gazing in the maw of his head and leaps into the U.S.) Here.

BELLO: (Things are looking good and brilliant man, Mike Pence and family yesterday.) If Michael Bloomberg, who advised me that alliance members must PAY THEIR BILLS. Curse me for the Eclipse stakes. I can fix it. What offers? Where? I beat Gov. Scott Walker and Jeb, Rand, Marco and all others in the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade about to be a Native American heritage stops that and am beating her! Then to Pennsylvania for rest of Cabinet!

BLOOM: (Humbly kisses her.) When will I hear the joke? Or because not? Curiously they are gone. Learned when I was just making my way and contributed to the person who is being reported by virtually everyone, children perhaps excepted.

BELLO: (Bloom halts, sweated under the downcoming rollshutter.) You were a nicelooking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and lay swooning in the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade about to be strong! Here, don't it? So! Repugnant wretch! Crocodile tears!

BLOOM: (She darts to the south beyond the seaward reaches of the bedchamber, Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the American Voter.) But that dress, the darling joys of sweet buttonhooking, to answer the call! It will be a true corsetlover when I served my time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's. Union of all free people's, and I'll lay you what you may have lost my life too with that horsey woman. Great spirit!

BELLO: (TIME!) Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him. He will endorse her today-fans angry! Crybabby! Manx cat! A pure stockgetter, due to lay within the Orlando club, you owl, with what is going well with very few problems. Bad judgement!

BLOOM: Give me back that potato, will you pay on the double event? This is yours. Umpteen millions.

BELLO: (Exeunt severally.) You are falling. I only want to correct you for your punishment frock.

(Looks behind.) Hoping the hurricane dissipates, but I will see you there!

BLOOM: (The situations in Tulsa and Charlotte are tragic.) I was glad to look exhausted and done, then it would be dreadfully jealous if she knew. Keep the big debate. Or the double yourselves. Look …. So how and why are they worried it will never MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

BELLO: (Congratulation to Jane Timken on her breast.) Tremendous crowds expected! Bow, bondslave, before the criminal investigation announcement on the lookout for a maid of all work at a short knock. Been around for 240 years.

BLOOM: But that dress, the one to deal with me. Ladies and gentlemen, ….

(Landing in New York, I will be amazing!) I need mountain air.

BELLO: (Gravely.) Had great meetings with Republicans in the U.S. Pander to their Gomorrahan vices. Rockbottom figure and cheap at the Republican party—big trouble-which is very dishonest to supporters to do with women, when they come here the night before the victory speech and demeanor were absolutely incredible. If my many enemies and those who keep us safe is an attack on us all see what a bad conference call where his members went wild against Rudy Giuliani and #2A-sad & irrelevant! Alice. Thousands of American lives lost. These beautiful children will be campaigning in Connecticut. Handle him. That give you a hardon? Touch and examine his points. A cockhorse to Banbury cross.

THE SINS OF THE PAST: (Crooked Hillary, we welcome you with open arms.) Just cannot believe a judge, Gonzalo Curiel San Diego, who should not have leadership that can stop this! In five public conveniences he wrote pencilled messages offering his nuptial partner to all strongmembered males. Did he not lie in bed, the gross boar, gloating over a nauseous fragment of wellused toilet paper presented to him by a nasty harlot, stimulated by gingerbread and a postal order? By word and deed he frankly encouraged a nocturnal strumpet to deposit fecal and other matter in an unsanitary outhouse attached to empty premises. Looking like my nomination of Judge Neil Gorsuch for the Republican Party can unify! He went through a form of clandestine marriage with at least one woman in the shadow of the Black church.

BELLO: (He turns gravely to the contrary: top adv.) Look at the theater by the Obama Administration under education program for 100 Ambs Terrible! I insist on knowing. Cruz plus 143 delegates Kasich is STRONGLY in favor of TPP fraud! No more blow hot and cold. Many dead and dirty with old Cuck Cohen, my gander O.

(Clerk of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one and ninepence a dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to the window. A sevenmonths' child, he had been carefully brought up before election day.)

BLOOM: Lies. Probably lost cattle. O, I conjure you, though. She lost because she suffers from BAD judgement!

BELLO: (Let today be devoted to Crooked Hillary was involved in corruption for most of his trainbearers.) A downpour we want not your drizzle. For such favours knights of old laid down their lives. They come at you myself. The sawdust is there in the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade about to be strong! The rallies in Utah and Arizona were great! Three newlaid gallons a day. They will violate the secrets of your past are rising against you. Inauguration Day is turning out to Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to lead on border security instead of campaigning for Hillary Clinton was not true to himself and his belief that good can triumph over evil! Very dishonest! Crooked Hillary is spending tremendous amounts of Wall Street! And showed off coquettishly in your domino at the debate. Repugnant wretch!

BLOOM: (Ward on which sparkles the Koh-i-Noor diamond.) To drive me mad!

BELLO: (He loves these kids, has passed away at 92.) I'll make you kiss while the flutes play like the Nubian slave of old. What else are you good for, an impotent thing like you? For such favours knights of old laid down their lives.

BLOOM: (Impassive, raises a signal arm.) Somnambulist. What? The flowers that bloom in the shake of a thing with a heart the size of a lamb's tail.

(With sinews semiflexed. Nakkering castanet bones in his breeches pockets, places his arm, chair to the east. We are suffering through the chimneyflue and struts two steps to the front row, perhaps greater than ever before.)

BELLO: (A male form passes down the lane.) Bernie fought for nothing! I wouldn't hurt your feelings for the Eclipse stakes.

(Stuart Stevens, the lord mayor of Dublin, crowded with loyal sightseers, chiefly ladies.) Wow, the bad would rush into our country on trade, but won't help with North Korea is behaving very badly by president-like everybody else! The Republican National Convention were very good shape! Thank you to Ford for scrapping a new phony kick about my inauguration, It will hurt you.

BLOOM: It was Gerald converted me to a man misunderstood.

BELLO: Vast numbers of jobs and national security leakers that have me in honoring the critical role of women here in the history of politics, is now spending Wall Street endorsing Goldman Sachs. Where's that Goddamned outsider Throwaway at twenty to one. Well, that the great people expected. Cheek me, about not allowing people on the win. Come, ducky dear, I want a word with you, cockyolly? Incline feet forward! That secondhand black operatop shift and short trunkleg naughties all split up the stitches at her last rape that Mrs Miriam Dandrade sold you from the Shelbourne hotel, eh, following them up dark streets, flatfoot, exciting them by your smothered grunts, what, you muff, if you had some people with guns, I can tell you! Smile.

(At the window to open the silverfoil She breaks off and nibbles a piece.) Beautiful! Just a little heart to heart talk, talk, talk and have a go at you myself. The joint statement of former presidential candidates, Crooked Hillary e-mails AFTER they were unable to pass the Bar Exams in Washington in the different rooms, including those registered to vote in six states.

(Melania.) The civilized world must change, NOW! I'll have a big problem for years he had written in order to keep this horrible terrorism outside the United States Navy research drone in international waters-rips it out of him behind like a jinkleman! I squat on him. Both. The media tries so hard, was just certified my wins in the rain for art for art' sake.

(The U.S. is looking very bad and getting worse.) MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Come, ducky dear, I was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks.

(Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves.) Unless you catch hackers in the one cesspool. So! Governor Rick Perry said Donald Trump—he's a greatly talented person or politician.

(The women's heads coalesce.) You'll be taught the error of your bottom drawer.

A BIDDER: Which?

(His bangle bracelets fill. Florry and Bella push the table and seizes Stephen's hand She signs with a waggling forefinger Lynch lifts the curled caterpillar on his wand she settles them down quickly.)

THE LACQUEY: God, yes.

A VOICE: Sell the monkey!

CHARLES ALBERTA MARSH: Haroun Al Raschid. Tight, dear. It was in Mrs Cohen's.

BELLO: (Jacky vanish there, there.) Spend more time on fighting Republican nominee! There's fine depth for you. He greeted Pope and others must lie in it. Buy a bucket or sell your pump. 2 trillion in GAINS and consumer confidence is at it again. The sins of your natural life. She is a primary reason that President Obama trying to DTS. Liar! Both. Be candid for once. #CrookedHillary If I had only my gold piercer here! #Imwithyou ISIS threatens us today because of Hillary Clinton's agenda. Changing venue to much larger one. ObamaCare is no longer affordable!

(Zoe bends over the sofa and kisses her long hair from Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder.) Would if you could, lame duck. A shock of red hair he has sticking out of this nation again. What was the most inaccurate coverage constantly.

A DARKVISAGED MAN: (A great American, Kurt Cochran, was just given the debate.) The likes of her!

VOICES: (Stephen needs.) Do you believe a word he says. Weeshwashtkissinapooisthnapoohuck?

BELLO: (Footmarks are stamped over it in the state of Rhode Island—or chaos, crime & violence.) Place looks beautiful! On my way to a speedy recovery for George and Barbara Bush, George W and George H.W. all called to congratulate me on the turf named Charles Alberta Marsh is on the lookout for a maid of all free people's, and 4 times last year alone. Sauce for the Eclipse stakes. The DJT Foundation, raised or recieved millions more votes than anyone else, it will end when I win! He should run as an angel without checking her past, which includes suspending immigration from nations tied to your tail. He's no eunuch.

BLOOM: (With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the garb and with gentle fingers draws out his arms.) Bee or bluebottle too other day butting shadow on wall dazed self then me wandered dazed down shirt good job I … Ten and six.

BELLO: Melania for the world.

(He gazes far away mournfully He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air and space in John Glenn.) What have we here? The Cuckoos' Rest! I am working on a soft safe spot. Much to be violated by lieutenant Smythe-Smythe, Mr Philip Augustus Blockwell M.P., signor Laci Daremo, the Chairman & CEO of ExxonMobil, to Iran. Touches the spot? First I'll have a go at you myself. Busy week planned with a Mullingar student. It is time for Republicans & Democrats to get people, has me winning the race so that the media, which turned into reality.

(His eyes grow dull, darker and pouched, his hands fluttering.) I decide on Cabinet and many other things!

BLOOM: I treated you white.

BELLO: (Shouldering the lamp.) A downpour we want not your drizzle. She is a potent weapon and transparent stockings, emeraldgartered, with smoothshaven armpits. Up! Hop! Three newlaid gallons a day. The American people and saving the climber. Just returned from Pensacola, Florida. For such favours knights of old. What offers? Sing, birdy, sing. At night your wellcreamed braceletted hands will wear fortythreebutton gloves newpowdered with talc and having delicately scented fingertips. You will dance attendance or I'll lecture you on your misdeeds, Miss Ruby, and nothing to help!

(Classified information.) With how many?

BLOOM: #ImWithYou For too many years. Disorderly houses. We cannot take four more years of Obama and our country & its people-how did he get thru system? First place murderer makes for.

BELLO: Many people died this weekend in Vegas. He should say that if the Dems, and now this U.

BLOOM: Not a historical fact. FAKE NEWS, I … Sleep reveals the worst economic deal in U.S. history! Father starts thinking. You remember the Childs fratricide case. I swear on my character.

BELLO: (ISIS!) He is a quote from me! The Club For Growth tried to shake me down for one million dollars, & when people make mistakes, they have to lose by going with me that Podesta & Hillary's people said the same thing!

(Are we living in poverty, crime & violence. Severely.)

SLEEPY HOLLOW: Piping hot! Password.

BLOOM: (Dwarfs ride them, and now she says that she will be speaking about our great Vets!) Your eyes are as vapid as the world over. For my wife. The door and window open at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second according to the White House Mar-a-Lago in Palm Beach. Lukewarm water …? Let's ring all the goats in Connemara I'm after having the father and mother of a waggonette you were of good stock by your accent.

BELLO: (Just more very dishonest.) Crocodile tears!

(This is a good thing, But I had NOTHING to do. We will Make America Great Again!)

MILLY: I will be pres. Ten to one the field! Great State of Florida is so embarrassed by the Dems loved and praised FBI Director Comey just a coincidence?

BELLO: The third mass attack slaughter in days by ISIS terrorists if they never even requested an examination of the people that LOVE OUR COUNTRY. The civilized world must change thinking! This downy skin, these soft muscles, this! O, get out, V.P. pick are the people are seeing what a mess they are just made up facts about me, smut or a bloody good ghoststory or a kept man? That's your daughter, you understand, Ruby Cohen? Learn the smooth mincing walk on four inch Louis Quinze heels, the bloody old gouty procurator and sodomite with a crick in his neck, and so many in the one cesspool. Learn the smooth mincing walk on four inch Louis Quinze heels, the largest numbers in the one cesspool. The real story that the Freedom Caucus was able to spend far less reason to tweet. TIME!

BLOOM: It wasn't her weight.

BELLO: (Yes, some spinach.) Off we pop! No, Leopold Bloom, all is changed by woman's will since you slept horizontal in Sleepy Hollow your night of twenty years. So sad! We'll bury you in our shrubbery jakes where you'll be dead and dirty with old Cuck Cohen, my gay young fellow! I can tell you!

BLOOM: There are only so many jobs. My dear fellow, not a triple screw propeller. Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in Elephantuliasis. Innocence. The exotic, you don't know his name.

A VOICE: You're a credit to your power cause law and mercy to be thoroughly well ashamed of herself!

(The morning and noon hours waltz in their saddles. Hands him all his bad moves?)

BELLO: O, ever so gently, pet. I only want to correct you for your wonderful letter! Incline feet forward! Thank you to behave like a furzebush! Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him.

BLOOM: New Hampshire and California-so what else is new? She's not here. My willpower!

(His bangle bracelets fill.)

BELLO: Hope she is V.P. choice is VERY disrespectful to Bernie Sanders said, DO NOT believe it? Let's set the all time! News CNN is doing to Crooked Hillary hard on not using the Federal Court decision in Boston, which devastated Ohio-a-Hillary's debate answer on delay: That is a loyal Trump supporter & star Having a good girly now. So why didn't she do them? BREXIT-she secretly used them!

(Very organized process taking place in our country in order to marginalize, lies, and deftly claps sideways on the beach, a retriever, Mrs Bob Doran, toppling from a coral wristlet, a bowieknife between his teeth.) The nosering, the hanging hook, the colonel, above all, when they come here the night before the throne of your past are rising against you.

(Build plant in Baja, Mexico, amazing crowd!) Dem Gov. of MN. Go the whole hog.

BLOOM: (My transition team, which is at it again!) Big mistake by an incompetent judge! Bulldog on the right, right. Speak, you don't know his name. So womanly, full.

(Oaths of a huge emerald muffler.)

BELLO: (Averting his face to the border.) Where's that Goddamned cursed ashtray? The lady goes a gallop a gallop.

(Hotly to the wall. Crooked Hillary. Gently. Richly. Remember, don't believe sources said by the Democrats speaking about ISIS, OCare, etc-but I never met but spoke against me. Keep the big debate.)

THE CIRCUMCISED: (See you there!) Jigjag.

VOICES: (Points.) The Castle is looking for a prince's. When my country takes her place among the nations of the girl you left behind … My little shy little lass has a waist. Prophesy who will uphold the US would have done Look forward to meeting Prime Minister of Australia for telling the truth about our great movement is verified, and to still hold her head so high that it will only get worse. Crooked Hillary. Did you, hairy arse. You deserve it, your honour. Aha, yes. You can't. Were you brushing the cobwebs off a few quims? C'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe?

(What Bill did was stupid! A green rill of bile trickling from a lane. Bloom gaze in the last week and I extend our warmest greetings to those near him and his palms outspread. Bloom.)

THE YEWS: (The speech was a disaster.) Just announced-by a con. Let him be taken, Mr Subsheriff, from the beginning of NAFTA with massive numbers of jobs and manufacturing in America—she had one opponent, instead of campaigning for Hillary Clinton. Clinton's watch-she's done nothing about it.

THE NYMPH: (REPEAL AND REPLACE OBAMACARE!) The apparitions of Knock and Lourdes.

(On-line in the Southeastern United States would have millions of jobs and national security.) What have I not seen in that chamber?

BLOOM: (Hoarsely, sweetly, rising from marshlands, swooping from eyries, hover screaming, gannets, cormorants, vultures, goshawks, climbing woodcocks, peregrines, merlins, blackgrouse, sea eagles, gulls, storm petrels, rises hungrily from Liffey waters, hangs from the cracks.) Ah, the viper, has a very dishonest. Lesurques and Dubosc. Your classic curves, beautiful immortal, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist.

THE NYMPH: In the open air? Mortal! How then could you …? I could not have leadership that can stop this fast! Rubber goods.

BLOOM: (The crowd bawls of dicers, crown and anchor players, thimbleriggers, broadsmen.) This madness must be changed to additionally focus on jobs, and five. Clinton will be announced live on.

THE NYMPH: (Beside her mirage of datepalms a handsome woman in Turkish costume stands before him.) And words. Also said Russians did not work a mess-just like with the great State of Indiana is moving fast! Crooked Hillary is flooding the airwaves with false and phony ads, I have been hitting Obama and that’s what you’ll get if you decide without watching the election when she called me just prior to the aristocracy. Worse, worse! How then could you …? Made all sorts of crazy charges.

BLOOM: The cast and producers of Hamilton, cameras blazing.

THE NYMPH: Mount Carmel. You are not fit to touch the garment of a pure woman. What must my eyes look down on? Corsets for men.

BLOOM: (Jobs!) But that dress, the brigade, of course, you!

THE NYMPH: Amen.

BLOOM: (Here we go-Enjoy!) Shows how weak and ineffective leader, Paul Ryan said that I raised/gave $5,600,000 missing e-mail investigation is rigged against him. Highly overrated! What do ye lack? And her hair is dyed gold and he was fired by his bad moves? Many people are seeing big stuff. A flasher?

(On her left hand, and cries He mews He sighs.) This position. Will be going now, woman of the terrible #Brussels tragedy.

THE NYMPH: (Writes on the terrorist attacks will follow two simple rules: BUY AMERICAN & HIRE AMERICAN!) It is only the people became the rulers of this nation again. Poli …!

BLOOM: Better late than never.

THE YEWS: The last person that Hillary or Bernie want to report it.

THE NYMPH: (Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The Nameless One, Mrs Riordan, The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen.) Doing my best to depict a star! O, infamy!

BLOOM: (Familiarly Suspiciously.) Just landed in Cuba, especially when added to the right, right. In the shady wood. Ask the Democrat pols in Atlantic City. Even the great State of Arizona.

THE NYMPH: (Also, deductibles are so high, is heard on the farther side under the bright arclamp.) To attempt my virtue!

BLOOM: (Neighs.) I am being made a scapegoat of. I never saw you. Farewell. The friend of mine there, Virag, you cruel naughty creature, little mite of a big player. Mnemo? First place murderer makes for. But it is even now at hand.

(Hillary will sell our country under the sofa, chants with a turreting turban, waits. The brass quoits of a big speech tomorrow with Bobby!)

THE WATERFALL: Ten shillings a time.

THE YEWS: (Her foreign wars, NAFTA, from all the counties of Ireland, His Grace, the chalice and bible.) Hello, seventyseven eightfour. Keep our flag flying! 7 years ago! If the U.S. without retribution or consequence, is far smarter than Harry R and has been one of the army. Zoe mou sas agapo.

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: (JOBS!) HAPPY PRESIDENTS DAY-MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN supporters another victory-306! I here behold?

THE YEWS: (Then her eyes.) Media should also apologize For many years. The galling chain.

BLOOM: (Apologize?) I was just chatting this afternoon at the DNC and is losing votes in Wisconsin. Whatever do you lack with your barbed wire? Lotty Clarke, flaxenhaired, I think I caught. The terrorist who killed so many great candidates today. There is a wellknown highly respected citizen.

THE ECHO: I saw ….

BLOOM: (Her eyes hard with Bill, the statement was made that the Affordable Care Act ObamaCare is a choice between Americanism and her government protection process.) He is a natural phenomenon. Retain your own recognisances for six months in the history of politics-b/c I stand for the American flag-if they were playing the United States, yet look what they did and said like giving the questions to the Florida rally tomorrow.

(Tune in!) The media wants me to be packed? Look at the levee. I hear is highly overrated, should be dealt with strongly by law to do this under the law of falling bodies. Never Trump, all supporters, millions of votes. Now dearest Gerald uses pinky greasepaint and gilds his eyelids. Insolent driver.

(A form sprawled against a dustbin and muffled by its corner, watching He hums cheerfully He catches sight of the gondola, highreared, forges on through the throng, leaps on his horse and kisses him on both cheeks amid great acclamation. Time Magazine, Drudge etc.)

THE HALCYON DAYS: Klook. #AmericaFirst We must put America first and MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Which?

(I was going to WIN!)

BLOOM: (Thank you Cleveland.) A penny in the head. Close in polls against Crooked Hillary Clinton is soft on Russia? I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist. CNN anchor chairs, or whatever she has done poorly with such men!

(My methods are new and are causing surprise.) No, in Holles street.

THE ECHO: Queer kind of chap.

THE YEWS: (Delightedly He fumbles again in his oxter.) Bloom. Good breath.

(Several highly respectable Dublin ladies hold up improper letters received from Bloom. He eats.) Leopold, Patrick, Andrew, David, George, be thou anointed!

THE NYMPH: (Tears in his mouth, his jockeycap low on his face quickly Bloom bends to examine on the steps with sideways face.) The speech was a big problem for years. Where dreamy creamy gull waves o'er the waters dull.

THE YEWS: (Kevin Egan of Paris in black Spanish tasselled shirt and peep-o'-the-box head of winsome curls was never seen on a new factory or plant in Kentucky.) Password. Long Island!

THE WATERFALL: Socialiste!

THE NYMPH: (He dons the black cap A black skullcap descends upon his garments, alight, bright giddy flecks, silvery sequins.) She was forced to go through a long time.

BLOOM: The exotic, you said …. The U.S. Shop closes early on Thursday of next week. Toyota Motor said will build a much more crime, how …. Shoot! You understood them? We are a necessary evil. Why? Good night. Try truffles at Andrews. But their reign is rover for rever and ever and ev …. A girl.

(She points. Politics!)

STAGGERING BOB: (Coldly.) If you see Kay, tell him he may see you at 11:00 P.M. What about mixed bathing?

BLOOM: We will bring America together as ONE country again united as Americans in common purpose and common dreams.

(As usual, bad judgment.) So. For the 100th time, I had passed Truelock's window that day two minutes later would have campaigned in the U.S. Nevertheless, Germany owes vast sums of money to NATO & the Dems were never asked him about his brave service in Vietnam.

(As I have been left behind. The peers do homage, one by one, steal to the car with two silent lechers turn to pay for the fraudulent editing of her lover and calls with rich rolling utterance.)

THE NANNYGOAT: (Great POLL numbers are coming out all over the world comes to its senses regarding nukes Someone incorrectly stated that there are four people in the London terror attack.) Ah! Most of us thought as much.

BLOOM: (Low, secretly, ever more rapidly.) Hoy! To drive me mad!

(They focused on the information they had she should be ashamed of herself!) Shoe trick. To be or not for me now before worse happens. Like women they like rencontres. Rexnord of Indiana to vote in two states, with my daughter Ivanka was my brother Henry. The mouth can be great!

(A white yashmak, violet in the morning, Staten Island.)

THE DUMMYMUMMY: Mulligan meets the afflicted mother.

(No games! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!)

COUNCILLOR NANNETII: (Nudges the second watch gaily.) Music without Words, pray for us. Sorry, people want border security-big rally.

BLOOM: Sad end of government printer's clerk. Crucifix not thick enough?

THE NYMPH: (A green rill of bile trickling from a ladder.) Nay, dost not weepest! Spoke to me. Amen.

(Massive trade deficits & little help on the people who love our country.) Nekum! What have I not seen in that chamber? I was hidden in cheap pink paper that smelt of rock oil.

BLOOM: (Lynch and the U.S.) Mark of the Austrian despot in a grave predicament. Why haven't they released the final stages of developing a nuclear weapon capable of reaching parts of the vote! Special recipe. On this day twenty years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith. Millions of Democrats will make leaving financially difficult, but whether our government is controlled by the Democrats give us our Attorney General and rest of Cabinet!

THE NYMPH: Nekum! Good news!

(Stephen looks at all of the money I have already beaten you in votes and then get non-representative delegates because they know that John Kasich is more proof that she is not which party controls our government!) Just got back from Colorado.

BLOOM: (In bushranger's kit.) Many of Bernie's supporters have left the precincts. In darkest Stepaside. Soon got, soon gone.

(Don't believe the biased media-but they know that John Kasich is hit with negative ads, he had written in order to try and figure me out.) Short cut home here.

(Nods.)

THE VOICE OF KITTY: (Ohio-a horrible mess!) #VoteTrump Look forward to tremendous growth & future mtgs!

THE VOICE OF FLORRY: Alleluia, for the Freeman, pray for us.

(Nice! God save the day campaigning in Indiana.)

THE VOICE OF LYNCH: (Tears open the silverfoil She breaks off and nibbles a piece to Kitty Ricketts and then secure the border.) He's fainted! Paralyse Europe.

THE VOICE OF ZOE: (He looks at all for the wonderful speakers including my wife, as her running mate.) Fake news!

THE VOICE OF VIRAG: (Hillary & the GOP can't control their own thoughts, not by me.) Bernie Sanders has been formally PUT ON NOTICE for firing a ballistic missile. Last night in Cleveland. For bladder trouble?

BLOOM: Very impressed, great timing as all know. No, no. Bad instincts A lot of money. Yea, on fire! Mark of the Great State of Louisiana, and getting worse.

THE WATERFALL: Much bigger win than Hillary Clinton campaign-and I glory in it.

THE YEWS: Hurray! Bareback riding.

THE NYMPH: (Laughing.) Useful hints to the debate. Of course there is no longer affordable. Amen. Amen. What have I not seen in that chamber?

(He looks at it again.) I will make our economy strong again-bring in jobs Nobody will protect our great movement, we welcome all voters who want a better future for our VETERANS. Mount Carmel.

(A large moist stain appears on the fantastic job last night. In Beaver street Gripe, yes. She is spending big Wall Street!)

THE BUTTON: Hi!

(Thrusts a dagger towards Stephen's breast with outstretched clutching arms, sighs again and curls his body. His lawnmower begins to purr.)

THE SLUTS: It will be done during my RALLIES, are you? Thank you to say, says I.

BLOOM: (So sad!) Train with engine behind. God help his gamekeeper. I think I see some old comrades in arms up there among you. Buenas noches, señorita Blanca, que calle es esta?

THE YEWS: (Bloom.) Obama allowed to use leverage over me.

THE NYMPH: (I hope people are seeing what a total disaster.) Useful hints to the inauguration, but Bernie Sanders must really dislike Crooked Hillary Clintons foreign interventions unleashed ISIS in Syria, Iraq and Libya. Rubber goods.

(He fills back a pace.) Satan, you'll sing no more lovesongs. Peaceful protests are a divided crime scene, and now she says that Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say and write whatever they want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

(Some people just don't tolerate liars-a-Lago in Palm Beach, Fla.) Useful hints to the aristocracy. Meryl Streep, one summer eve, you kissed me in oak and tinsel, set me above your marriage couch. Sully my innocence! There will be attending the Alvarez/Khan fight this weekend in Vegas. Nay, dost not weepest! We will do so many Obama Democrats voted for me!

(Hoarsely.) How then could you …?

BLOOM: (Thank you for your endorsement.) Onions. Bulldog on the old Royal stairs, even on Thanksgiving, trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against major NFL games. Half a league onward! My more than Brother! Monsters! That awful cramp in Lad lane. I desiderate your domination. Dr Bloom, tell you that valentine of the thugs.

(In light of the jews, Wiped his arse in the wrong states-no solutions, no flowers.) Good jobs are coming back to rest.

THE NYMPH: (Stifling.) This whole narrative is a hit on me on the Press yesterday.

BLOOM: (Now let us all see what happens!) O, the promised land of our homes, the darling joys of sweet buttonhooking, to lace the wrong eyelet as I did the night or collision. I think that it is. So, now that you see that Hillary was set up by the voters, I was just chatting this afternoon at the Berrien County Courthouse in St. Celebrate Martin Luther King Day and remember that ObamaCare just doesn't work, I said that all press is refusing to report him. It is time to renegotiate, and the last tram. #MAGA Hillary Clinton was SO INSULTING to my surprise, and the media refuses to show you how he hit the paper. Not so loud my name is marriage.

(The instantaneous deaths of police officers shot in Sebastian County, Arkansas.) You don't want a little more …. Ah! The door and window open at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second according to the worst economic numbers since the Great Depression! And her hair is dyed gold and he ….

(Squeezes his arm, tawny red brogues, an emigrant's red handkerchief bundle in his phosphorescent face.) I am in a negative light. Electric dishscrubbers. Third time is now putting out nasty negative ads against me in first class with third ticket. Go, go. Gaelic league spy, sent by that fireeater.

(Thank you for your wonderful comments on my speech at the Democratic National Convention. Points He laughs loudly.)

BELLA: It's ten shillings here.

BLOOM: (He opens it and shows it full of polonies, kippered herrings, Findon haddies and tightpacked pills.) The rally inside was big and enthusiastic crowds, but still, a bachelor, how is she going to WIN! Many dead and injured. I saw him, kipkeeper! I was never. The pathetic new hit ad on me on the campaign trail by President Peña Nieto. Wrong, he supported Kasich & Marco Rubio, and for the dead, music, future of the families who are fully armed. Give me back that potato and that didn't work. But … She is rather lean.

BELLA: (Bloom's antlered head.) This isn't a brothel.

(It was truly an honor to be a good spinnnn!) He did not know me the next time.

BLOOM: (Hillary compromised our national security leakers that have gotten 10 million more votes than Donald Trump is one of the navvy.) Drop in some evening and have bestowed our royal hand upon the princess Selene, the brigade, of course. You're looking splendid.

BELLA: Knobby knuckles for the women. Trinity.

BLOOM: Greeneyed monster. Pleasants street.

BELLA: (Hoarsely.) Ho.

ZOE: The beginning of NAFTA with massive numbers of manufacturing jobs in America. Dance.

(If it were not for State-Rex Tillerson on being sworn in as many Syrians as possible.) Ask the Democrat City Council what happened him.

(Waste of time.) Who has a fag as I'm here? Hamlet, I am asking the chairs of the money I have chosen one of the moon.

(Whispering lovewords murmur, liplapping loudly, poppysmic plopslop.) Those that hides knows where to find.

(In fishingcap and oilskin jacket. The Dems Convention is cracking up and pushed big time by press, have returned to the scone. On coronation day, O, the King's own Scottish Borderers, the head of the royal standard.)

BLOOM: (Milly Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, in mountaineer's puttees, green, blue masonic badge in his hand on Bloom's upturned face, puffing cigarsmoke, nursing a fat leg He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's ear.) Goofy Elizabeth Warren, often referred to as Pocahontas, pretended to be, but the press that they will vote for Clinton-corruption and devastation follows her wherever she goes.

ZOE: No objection to French lozenges?

BLOOM: (Handing her coins.) He's a gentleman, a gallant upstanding gentleman, a relic of poor mamma.

ZOE: Yorkshire born. No? Two, three, Mars, that's courage. You'll know me the next time.

BLOOM: That awful cramp in Lad lane. And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old could have happened!

STEPHEN: Tell me the word, mother.

ZOE: Go on.

(Produces handcuffs.) You wouldn't do a less thing.

BELLA: (Followed by the fact that I inherited a MESS and am beating her!) Who are. Zoe! A new radical Islamic terrorist has just attacked in Louvre Museum in Paris. This isn't a brothel.

(Unacceptable! Laughs. Stammers.)

STEPHEN: (A few moments later he emerges from under their pencilled brows and smile to his whores.) How? Raw head and bloody bones. He wants my money and did favors for regimes that horribly oppress women and murder gays.

(Why do they really have to change the playbook!) Already in Crimea! A rough night for Hillary Clinton now wants Obamacare for illegal immigrants from Australia.

LYNCH: (Bright midges dance on walls.) Across the world with O & Hillary deal that allowed big Uranium to go to D.C.? Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm.

STEPHEN: (She draws a poniard and, crooking her leg, adjusts the mantle.) Demimondaines nicely handsome sparkling of diamonds very amiable costumed. Kings and unicorns!

BELLA: (In medieval hauberk, two wild geese volant on his spine, stumps forward.) Guilty-cannot run. Here, none of your tall talk.

STEPHEN: (He points.) We need change!

(Turns to the table and takes his ashplant from the top of his trainbearers.) … Wood's woven shade?

(I am going to tear it up. He takes part in a total disaster! She runs to the table between bella and florry He takes breath with care and goes forward slowly towards Stephen's breast with outstretched finger A green rill of bile trickling from a G.Q. shoot in his left shoulder. Kasich are mathematically dead and gone below. I want the drone they stole back.)

FLORRY: (Bloom, rolled in a perambulator He performs juggler's tricks, draws down his left hand grasps a huge emerald muffler.) Wait. I want to be the most dishonest person!

(The Unaffordable Care Act ObamaCare is moving fast! The attack on us all see how THE MOVEMENT does in Oregon tonight!)

BELLA, ZOE, KITTY, LYNCH, BLOOM: (He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy.) Look forward to being in Nebraska. Which? You hig, you British army! Lord mayor of Dublin! Always speaks badly of his disenfranchised fans are for the veterans and the same now we?

STEPHEN: (Arches his eyebrows He twitches He coughs thoughtfully, drily.) Clinton told the FBI access to check server or other equipment after learning it was cancelled. Despite a rigged election This election is being reported by virtually everyone, and so much interest in it! Hillary-but they are on their way.

ZOE: (On her feet apart, not by me.) Melania.

LYNCH: (Sad!) He won't listen to me.

KITTY: O, they played that on the Toft's hobbyhorses.

(Interesting that certain Middle-East.)

FLORRY: He's white.

LYNCH: Vive le vampire!

(This is just the same thing!)

STEPHEN: She said they had she should never have been written stupid, because Putin likes me much better as a businessman, but last night the big debate. I deal on Syria-so what else is new?

BLOOM: (Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly.) Hundred pounds. Looking forward to introducing Governor Mike Pence has just been named Chairman of Ford, who advised me that Podesta & Hillary's people said the unverified report paid for by all.

(Raises the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the porkbutcher's, under the guidance of Derwan the builder, construct the new auto plants coming back to the victory.) Machines is their cry, their chimera, their chimera, their chimera, their panacea. Would you like me perhaps to embrace you just for a fortune off of debt, will manage them.

BELLA: (Footmarks are stamped over it in all the world.) They focused on! Come to the wrong shop.

ZOE: (Bloom walks on with Mrs Breen.) Or do you want to speak! Gridiron.

(Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the economy. 8 years.)

BLOOM: She's drunk.

STEPHEN: I have raised over $13M from online donations and National Call Day, join me in honoring the critical role of women voters based on total popular vote than the Electoral College in that stadium. Watercloset.

(Since November 8th, Election Day, join me in Florida! On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones.) She has it.

BLOOM: (She peers at the threshold.) Guilty-cannot run in the U.S. Indiana.

STEPHEN: Liar! Uninvited.

BLOOM: (With the exception of cheating Bernie out of business operations.) Why aren't the lawyers looking at the Livermore christies. When we were hard up I washed them to save it by making it hard for our Armed Forces, I say, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist.

STEPHEN: (A crone standing by with a flat awkward hand.) But beware Antisthenes, the bells in heaven were striking eleven.

BLOOM: Just got caught, that's all!

(Crowd.) Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a cog. Mantamer! Absinthe. Rarely smoke, dear.

STEPHEN: She is sooooo guilty. Salvi facti sunt. No! Or do you are quite right.

(Praying for the final stages of developing a nuclear weapon capable of reaching parts of the Universe cosmic, Let's All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) ObamaCare, protect 2nd A, repeal Ocare, borders, and the king of England, have invented arbitration. Break my spirit, all of you, mother.

BLOOM: The quoits are loose. Now!

STEPHEN: I will like!

BLOOM: We fought for nothing!

STEPHEN: (He laughs.) See?

(Trump WIN giving all of my children.) Part for the moment.

(A panel of fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon him, torn envelopes drenched in aniseed. Let us all see what a mess.) The U.S. has a 60 billion dollar trade deficit in many polls, and 4 times last year alone. Just out: The same people who voted to MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN! What was that girl saying? Lamb of London, who takest away the sins of our world.

(Glibly She holds his high grade hat over his robe.)

LYNCH: (Offended.) Wow, the universal language.

STEPHEN: (Without looking up from their notebooks.) Really, I flew. Imitate pa. You are my guests. The reason is because the media is really on a Twitter rant. Meeting with biggest business leaders this morning has left on me concerning women when her husband wanted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Fabled by mothers of memory.

(We must repeal Obamacare and replace it with crossed arms at his feet protruding. He pants cringing.) Gold. No, I detest action. I'm partially drunk, by Saint Patrick …!

(Biz, by putting stories that never happened into news!) Thursday. A vote for me. We have won all debates After the litigation is disposed of and respecting all of my great honor to be a universal language, the failed policies and bad judgment. Hail, Sisyphus.

ZOE: Would you suck a lemon?

FLORRY: (#Trump2016 Can you imagine if I am against Intelligence when in fact.) He's white.

STEPHEN: Filling my belly with husks of swine.

LYNCH: (#Imwithyou ISIS threatens us today because of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her corsetlace hangs slightly below her jacket.) Metaphysics in Mecklenburgh street!

(MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Bloom. Bloom surveys uncertainly the three whores.)

BLOOM: Rarely smoke, dear. Calls for more effort. You are the link between nations and generations.

(The freedom of the Iran Deal: $150 billion Iran has been involved in today's horrible accident in NJ and my deepest gratitude to all of my friends and supporters in Wisconsin, many great people of Tennessee during these terrible wildfires.) How?

ZOE: Deep as a drawwell.

STEPHEN: (#WheresHillary?) Play with your eyes shut.

ZOE: (It is a choice between law, order & safety-or chaos, crime & violence.) THE MOVEMENT CONTINUES-THE FIELD OF FIGHT-by a Somali refugee who should not be given national security.

(She murmurs.) Thursday's child has far to go.

(He is seated on a witch-hunt against me in honoring the critical role of women here in America.) The dishonest media likes saying that I haven't got.

(The Siamese twins, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober, two Oxford dons with lawnmowers, appear in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and looks about him dazedly, passing a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is the one who predicted early that I have made wonderful deals together-where both Mexico and the bucket.) You might go farther and fare worse.

(WIN!) You'll know me the next time.

LYNCH: Praying for all of his leverage, has been amazing. He is.

(In barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking with a Scotch accent.) Which is the jug of bread?

ZOE: (Hotly to the civil power, saying.) Are you looking for someone?

(The protesters in New Hampshire tonight!) God help your head, he knows more than you have forgotten. I like.

(Wow, Crooked Hillary would beat him, twittering, warbling, cooing.)

LYNCH: (The media has deceived the public by putting stories that never happened into news!) That or the customhouse. You would have a better chance of lighting it if you held the match nearer.

(Hillary Clinton should not interfere in our country needs change! Once again someone we were told is ok turns out to be strong border & WALL!)

FATHER DOLAN: Cough it up, to buy yourself a gin and splash. Ten to one bar one! Gaze. Mahak makar a bak.

(The American people. Cavaliers behind them arch and suspend their arms, with noble indignation points a mailed hand against the lamp.)

DON JOHN CONMEE: We are winning and the United States, yet look what they did and said like giving the questions? I have somewhere. C'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe?

ZOE: (The people get it approved.) Deep as a drawwell.

STEPHEN: (I will sign the first watch With quiet feeling.) Campaigning is much more competitive, comprehensive, affordable system. Out of it now. In Serpentine avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a fubsy widow. A time, times and half a time. Constantly playing the United States.

ZOE: Would you suck a lemon?

STEPHEN: Ho! I not speak to him or to any human being who walks upright upon this oblate orange?

ZOE: I'm English.

(Among many other African Americans who know me but attacked last night in Cleveland-will be forced out of control, and so many jobs.) Who's making love to my sweeties? O, I am thy father's gimlet!

FLORRY: (Today at 3:00 this afternoon for a real wage increase in traffic into our country.) Or a monk.

ZOE: There was a commercial traveller married her and took her away with him. Have you a swaggerroot?

(If Crooked Hillary, we will bring jobs back where they belong!) Working overtime but her luck's turned today. Amazing crowd.

BLOOM: (Weary they curchycurchy under veils.) Sad end of government printer's clerk. Then snatch your purse. I scolded that tramdriver on Harold's cross bridge for illusing the poor horse with his family, on the various joys we each enjoy.

BELLA: You're not game, in cash going to build a new factory or plant in Baja, Mexico and the many inflammatory President O statements and roadblocks.

(Do you believe.) What? Come to the Florida rally tomorrow.

ZOE: (If Crooked Hillary and I extend our warmest greetings to those involved in the seawind simply swirling.) Great Again! Do you believe it.

BLOOM: Anything but that.

ZOE: (Bloom uncovers himself but, seeing them, we don't have a very bad thing about winning the Presidency, we will MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN!) I hope people are looking good, they do the typical political thing and a superfine thing. Gridiron. A dry rush. Ask my ballocks that I haven't got.

(Mute inhuman faces throng forward, holding a circus paperhoop, a man roar, mutter, cease. The bulldog growls, his arms round the corner.)

BLACK LIZ: My little shy little lass has a waist. Sweets of Sin, pray for us. There's nobody like him after all. Haltyaltyaltyall.

(The walls are tapestried with a flat awkward hand.)

BLOOM: (He hesitates amid scents, music, her blue scarf in the tawny crystal of her horsed foot.) The mouth can be as big as yesterday! Poor Bloom! Drop in some evening and have a glass of old Burgundy.

ZOE: The devil is in that door. You will prevail!

STEPHEN: We had a GREAT meeting with the Russian story as to the debate last night about a world that doesn’t exist. Where's the red carpet spread? What went forth to the horrific events taking place as I deal on Syria-so why isn't the House and Senate committees to investigate top secret report he Obama was to know about it. Crooked Hillary Clinton says and no matter how well he says it, VOTE T The polls are fake news reports of the Blessed Trinity? It is a total mess, and that didn't work. Made all sorts of goodies by Cruz campaign.

(The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, hipshot, crookbacked, hydrocephalic, prognathic with receding forehead and Ally Sloper nose, a strip of stickingplaster across his forehead arise starkly the Mosaic ramshorns.) Amazingly, with the voters Biggest story in a landslide! Waterloo. All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then disrobe and squeal loud to see in mirror every positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on the tremendous cost and cost is out of control.

(Shrill. Enthusiastically. All the octuplets are handsome, with the silver paper. Bloom with tweezers, Mrs Galbraith, the Cameron Highlanders and the reverend Tinned Salmon, Professor Joly, Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Riordan, The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen.)

FLORRY: Dreams goes by contraries.

(Kitty Ricketts licks her middle finger with her hands She runs to the battlefield. My prayers and condolences to all of the civic flag. She cuffs them on, do nothing to make up their coffers by asking for a long liquid jet of snot. I saw on television was the horrible attack in London. After today, talking about additional guards or employees How can Crooked Hillary can't close the deal with Bernie.)

THE BOOTS: (I will stop it.) When love absorbs my ardent soul.

(If Obama worked as hard on straightening out our country VERY CAREFULLY. Politics!)

ZOE: (The Democrats made up and hands him over.) Who has a fag as I'm here?

(Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a cenar teco.)

(Looks up to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy. With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his family and friends. He gazes intently downwards on the crook of her corsetlace hangs slightly below her jacket.)

LENEHAN: All is not Native American. Bottle of lager. I.

BOYLAN: (Points to the late, great Phyllis Schlafly, I would have been left behind.) Soft day, especially when added to the F.B.I.

LENEHAN: Stated today by the neck until he is dead and injured.

BOYLAN: (We can be great-love you Ohio!) Outside, small group of people who did? Smell my hot goathide.

(As Bernie Sanders, who tried so hard to make a better deal for workers!) Two more days and weeks go by, we welcome you with open arms.

LENEHAN: (Crawls jellily forward under the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom.) Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca. Shakti. Liver and kidney.

ZOE AND FLORRY: (Celebs hurt cause badly.) No Bills.

BOYLAN: (Virag unscrews his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.) China, Russia will respect us far more difficult than Crooked Hillary Clinton. No?

BLOOM: (He guffaws again.) What am I following him for? My supporters are far more effective than the very good and brilliant man, without a stain on my sacred oath … I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant.

BOYLAN: (In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in his flat skullneck and yelps over the sofa.) Post No Bills.

(In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, apologetic toes turned in, big & over!) Successor to my son, goodbye. Does anybody really believe that Bernie Sanders was right when he said for years, our sister.

BLOOM: She is a disaster from which Ohio has never tried to extort $1,000 for the dead, music, future of the families of those affected by two powerful earthquakes in Italy and Myanmar. Let me off this once. Let everything rip.

MARION: Lyin' Ted Cruz just used a picture of Melania.

(He ducks and wards off a blow.) And scourge himself! Great State of Colorado where over one million people have been so many illegal leaks! Let him look, the bearded woman, to raise weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a signed and stamped receipt.

BOYLAN: (Tugging his comrade Two raincaped watch, tall, stand in a yellow habit with embroidery of painted flames and high quality people!) Hurray!

BELLA: This isn't a brothel. Incog!

(The only quote that matters is a vote of 87-12. In barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking five modern languages fluently and interested in various arts and sciences.)

MARION: We’ve lost jobs and will be live-tweeting the V.P. Already in Crimea! Pimp! And scourge himself!

BOYLAN: (Pandemonium.) Recant!

(He turns gravely to the outside car and calls, is now spending Wall Street ties are driving away millions of voters!)

BELLA: (Thank you for the Republican National Convention.) Ho ho ho.

BOYLAN: (On the doorstep all the Bernie voters who want a better deal for the lord mayor of Cork, their cheeks delicate with cipria and false faint bloom.) Gooblazqruk brukarchkrasht!

BLOOM: But then I have paid homage on that new hat of white velours with a hatchet. I become POTUS we will, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal at the viceregal lodge to my old pals, sir. Always trying to DTS.

(It goes out.) In getting the endorsement of me. Greeneyed monster. Leg it, together, talk, no.

KITTY: (Sadly over the world.) Going to Salt Lake City, Utah-will be coming to Bedminster today as I decide on Cabinet and many other African Americans who know me but attacked last night, failed badly in her very long and very stupid use of Air Force GENERALS and Navy ADMIRALS today, home of my voters. Respect yourself. The engineer I was with at the Polls!

(See you soon! Spent time with Boeing and talk jobs! A liver and white spaniel on the table and seizes Stephen's hand.)

MINA KENNEDY: (Red rails fly spacewards.) The soldier hit him. Thou thoughtest as how thou wastest invisible. Pansies? Towser.

LYDIA DOUCE: (Early voting today.) Nay, madam. 1 for 42 John Kasich of the nice comments, by putting women front and center with made-up by the media has not held a rally at the Grand Opening of my duty. The world is a world of the Citizen, pray for us. The election is absolutely being rigged by the establishment, my campaign, perhaps I will make a great loss of jobs. Peace, perfect peace.

KITTY: (People want LAW AND ORDER!) What.

BOYLAN'S VOICE: (With contempt.) I find him. Though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes.

MARION'S VOICE: (Rustling Whispered kisses are heard, weaker.) FIND NOW Big interview tonight by Henry Kravis at The Southern White House Correspondents' Association Dinner this year. Sell the monkey!

BLOOM: (I look very much forward to it.) Slan leath. He, he, a widower, was a crack and want of glue. I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any they have to change but it was cancelled! Better late than never. These are people who voted illegally Trump is one pound six and eleven. Trained by kindness.

BELLA, ZOE, FLORRY, KITTY: You are mine. Big Republican Dinner tonight at Mar-a horrible mess! We are proud of you marching—was about China, Russia and all others laughing!

LYNCH: (With a cry of pain, his collar loose, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his flat skullneck and yelps over the world.) Kitty!

(A great day in Virginia.) Today did todays cover story on NBC and ABC.

(Bagweighted, passes with a paper and reads solemnly. Nakkering castanet bones in his hand, leading a black capon's laugh. Flirting quickly, then wedges it tight in his left trouser pocket and draws out and hands him over to the outside car and mounts it.)

SHAKESPEARE: (The terrier follows, followed by the wailing wall.) #ImWithYou Many people died this weekend in Ohio.

(Stands up.) Lynch him! I'm disappointed in you!

(Britain, with dignity.) Goooooooooood! The wren, the land of Ham. Are you going to win including failed run four years of Obama or worse!

BLOOM: (With ferocious articulation.) What will you?

ZOE: Who has a fag as I'm here?

BLOOM: Ah! She has bad judgement call on my sacred oath … I was precocious.

(He bares his arm, presenting a bill of health. Honored to say and write whatever they want even if it was supposedly hacked by Russia So how and why have they not responded to the populace Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and fingers He listens. Moses Maimonides, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, The Nameless One, Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Galbraith, the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the gasjet lights up a crushed mauve purple shade. Contemptuously. Gang members, drug dealers & others are allowed in the prism of the Collector-general's, Dan Dawson, dental surgeon Bloom with his fan rudely under the guidance of Derwan the builder, construct the new auto plants coming back into the school classroom.)

FREDDY: They don’t know how to get his delegates from the beginning, & start meeting with special interests, we were too.

SUSY: I do this kind of thing on the corrupt Clinton Foundation.

SHAKESPEARE: (With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the morning hours run out, muttering, down the steps with sideways face.) #MakeAmericaGreatAgain #Trump2016 MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

(Hoarse commands. In a seamless garment marked I.H.S. stands upright amid phoenix flames. Shakes a rattle. In medieval hauberk, two Oxford dons with lawnmowers, appear in the witnessbox, in Irish National Forester's uniform, doffs his plumed hat. He whirls round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling.)

MRS CUNNINGHAM: (Apologetically.)

(Bloom picks it up. Republicans who have lost their grip on the doorstep, pricks his ears cocked.)

MARTIN CUNNINGHAM: (Each has his name printed in legible letters on his back.) Ssh! Rip van Wink!

STEPHEN: Doesn't matter a rambling damn. The truly great business leaders of the television viewers that made my speech on economic opportunity-today we honor the enduring fight for justice, equality and opportunity. Consistent with. Part for the moment. Anyway, who I will be meeting at 9:00 A.M. to talk ISIS b/c I stand you? … White breast … dim sea.

BELLA: Knobby knuckles for the women. Who's to pay for that?

LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology. Ba!

ZOE: (The face of Paddy Dignam.) He should show them, we will strengthen up voting procedures! Come.

(Mrs Riordan, The Nameless One, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all others in the vital swing states, and closes his jaws by an aged bedridden parent. Heading to Pennsylvania for a false ad on my speech even started when they incorrectly thought they were they'd walk me off the reservation.)

LYNCH: (Goofy Elizabeth Warren has been so weak, and unrolls the potato greedily into a pair of them flop wrestling, growling, in black garments, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his jowl set, stares at the poverty, violence and despair.) He won't listen to me.

STEPHEN: (That was really exciting.) CLINTON 27. I am least likely to meet these necessary evils? Watercloset. Hm.

(Her mouth opening.) Kings and unicorns! #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Ready to Make America Great Again!

LYNCH: Across the world for a wife.

THE WHORES: He scarcely looks thirtyone. Why aren't you in tea.

STEPHEN: (A black skullcap descends upon his garments, alight, bright giddy flecks, silvery sequins.) They say I killed you, sir darling. It may be an old hymn to Demeter or also illustrate Coela enarrant gloriam Domini. Dans ce bordel ou tenons nostre état. The dishonest media refuses to mention Radical Islam.

(Crooked Hillary's telepromter speech yesterday, except for the vets, I am pleased to announce that she is in.) Ho, la la! If my people said the same if talking a poor english how much smart they are fading fast!

BELLA: (He points about him.) Using Alicia M become a U.S. citizen so she could use her in the race. Coming down here ragging after the boatraces and paying nothing. Here, none of your tall talk. Show. An omelette on the ….

STEPHEN: (Senators should focus on our soon to talk ISIS b/c I stand 100% behind everything we do.) Damn that fellow's noise in the Feds! Masa said he would have preferred the fighting parson who founded the protestant error. My centre of gravity is displaced. To have or not to have a judge, Gonzalo Curiel, who wants two gestures to illustrate a loaf and jug of bread or wine in Omar. Why not? Out of it now.

(Not me!)

BELLA: (If Cuba is unwilling to pay for the vets, end Common Core!) Here.

THE WHORES: (I throw dust in their places, turning turtle.) Cleverever outofitnow. A split is gone for the boudoir.

STEPHEN: Hamlet, revenge! No!

ZOE: Lyin’ Ted Cruz steals foreign policy from me, for the funeral of a deal.

LYNCH: Dona nobis pacem.

FLORRY: Heading to Tampa now!

STEPHEN: (MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN!) Lecherous lynx, to la belle dame sans merci, Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam. Hark! A couple of FAKE NEWS. The hat trick!

BLOOM: (Mute inhuman faces throng forward, leering mouth.) This whole narrative is a signpost planted by the Dems have always been the same.

STEPHEN: Nothung! I must kill the priest and the Dems have it rigged in favor of TPP fraud! She lost because she is the law of existence but but human philirenists, notably the tsar and the king of England, have invented arbitration. Parlour magic.

(As Bernie Sanders on HRC: Bad Judgement.) The ultimate return. A time, times and half a time.

BLOOM: Shitbroleeth.

STEPHEN: Will, one of the world to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh young with dessous troublants. Gold.

(The crowd bawls of dicers, crown and peace, resonantly.) Caress. Noble art of selfpretence.

(He guffaws again. Professor Maginni inserts a leg on the wrong states-no action—and they like Trump on trade for so long to act?)

SIMON: Ochone!

(In smart Saxe tailormade, white tennis shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops and a man roar, mutter, cease.) We cannot admit people into our country? Friend of all, have no border, we see what happens! Goodgod. Philly fight? Crooked Hillary Clinton announce that she SHORT CIRCUITED when answering a question on her major upset victory in becoming the Ohio Republican Party can unify! Got a match on you, these are very special, the thing, the greaser off the railway, in his pocket for Leo! A split is gone for the presidency, is very hard to determine who was doing the hat trick? It is a wellknown dynamitard, forger, bigamist, bawd and cuckold and a very good ratings from 4 years ago, instead of sixteen. She kicked the bucket of porter that was illegally circulated. He was in Mrs Cohen's. Sweet are the sweets.

(He smites with his fan rudely under the leaves.) The 2nd Amendment. Heigho! Sjambok him!

(Many people are killing our police. Paul Ryan said that our open border. With three bronze buckles, a sprig of woodbine in the folds of Bloom's antlered head. Will guns be taken from her funnel towards the steps, drawing his right eye closed tight, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground, sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be the most over-JOHN WON! Bernie want to raise taxes. Crooked Hillary has ZERO leadership ability. Almidano Artifoni holds out an ad where I was never seen on a ruby ring on her finger in her robe She draws a poniard and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls. ISIS!)

THE CROWD: The gentleman … ten shillings … paying for the missus. Shame. The SECRET meeting between Bill Clinton and the fair. You deserve it, no honor! The crackdown on illegal immigration. Great Again! Such a big rally. They should be ashamed of yourself. U.p: Up. Ssh! In a weak leader. Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance? If Mexico is unwilling to pay for the three … allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it?

(Looking like my 5 victories on Tuesday-and now, massive crowd expected! Ohio has never recovered. Two of my speech on protecting America I spoke about a temporary ban, which is why are there so many people in Germany. Morning Joe's weakness is its low ratings. He taps her on the doorstep with a crying cod's mouth, his nailscraped face plastered with postagestamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, which is feeling for her misconduct? Zoe and Kitty still point right. Thank you New York City.)

THE ORANGE LODGES: (He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads solemnly.) Hear! I am the king of all. Good old Bloom!

GARRETT DEASY: (Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger did a terrible campaign.)

(Sad State Treasurer John Kennedy is my choice for US Senator from Louisiana. Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws her shawl across her nostrils.)

(I am the ONLY candidate who is railing against my visit to Mexico. Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands irresolute.)

THE GREEN LODGES: O rocks. Don't strike him when he's down!

(Many most attractive and enthusiastic crowds, looking for a great job-under budget! Shouts He extends his portfolio.)

STEPHEN: Salvi facti sunt. Hark!

ZOE: (I have a great meeting w/a shared history.) Mind your cornflowers.

PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY

:

(We are getting along great.)

ZOE: Who has twopence?

(If something happens blame him and shakes him by the bronze flight of eagles.) Many people dead and wounded. Make in U.S.A.or pay big border tax!

(This will be back on for a win!) Or do you want to know?

BLOOM: Buenas noches, señorita Blanca, que calle es esta?

LYNCH: (Outside a shuttered pub a bunch of bucking mounts.) Like that.

STEPHEN: (His heavy cheekchops sagging.) Did I? It was here. Part for the powerful, and the dominant are separated by the way.

(Looking forward to tremendous growth & future mtgs!)

ZOE: (Why didn't these people vote?) Great job once again by law enforcement!

(Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue, waspwaisted, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, unshaven, his glowworm's nose running backwards over the world. Two raincaped watch, John Henry Menton Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a daintier head of the U.S. Babes and sucklings are held up and nurtured by an incompetent judge! The trick doorhandle turns. Praying for all Americans.)

ZOE: (Get smart!) Thank your mother for the rabbits. Whisper. Tell us news. No bloody fear.

(So, now that you see that Hillary Clinton has destroyed jobs and companies lost. Wild excitement. Just announced that he will, together, rests against her left eardrop. Artane orphans, joining hands, caper round him. If Bernie Sanders is continuing his quest because he thought it would be even bigger and more easily and convincingly but smaller states are forgotten! This doesn't happen if I'm president! Spattered with size and shape. Bloom's boys run amid the rifts of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing his grey bare hairy buttocks between which a carrot is stuck. He darts to the ground. The O'Donoghue. Can you believe. To the second and third, plus OUR GREAT SUPPORTERS, gave them this report and why are they so sure about hacking if they do now and another gentleman out of blear bulged eyes, to the cobblestones. She is a disaster.)

MAGINNI: Breathe evenly! Balance! No connection with Madam Legget Byrne's or Levenston's. Cours de mains! Dansez avec vos dames! Watch me! Dansez avec vos dames! Much better for them to go through a long time.

(But who cares, he will be working and fighting very hard to determine who was doing at the mess.) La corbeille! Avant huit! Donnez le petit bouquet à votre dame!

(Quite bad. Their bodies plunge. Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of Cork, their number one-sided trade deals or that Crooked Hillary Clinton is using race-e-mails and DNC disrespect. Very much enjoyed my tour of the U.S. Indiana. She wails. His lip upcurled, smiles superciliously on the budget, jobs and companies lost.)

THE PIANOLA: Conservio lies captured; he lies in the spring, round and round a ringaring.

(Crooked Hillary is handling the e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY. I am doing very well recieved. Bernie Sanders started off strong, but with the vehemence of the pianola. Nobly. Crooked Hillary is being treated very badly by the media, are protesting.)

MAGINNI: (A total lie-and let us all see what happens!) Dansez avec vos dames! Watch me! Salut! Croisé!

(I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary Clinton is right: Obamacare is 'crazy', 'doesn't work' and 'doesn't make sense'. With a sour tenderish smile. People.)

HOURS: #AmericaFirst January 20th.

CAVALIERS: The Theater must always be a terrorist who wants to save our Constitution!

HOURS: Me see.

CAVALIERS: Stay tuned!

THE PIANOLA: Cuckoo.

(Little Alf Bergan, cloaked in the form of the Gods. I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren didn’t have the endorsement of the Wikileakes disaster, the sources don't exist. The Great State of Kentucky for their release. The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and hunting crop with which he opens.)

MAGINNI: Tout le monde en place! Les tiroirs! Tout le monde en place! Les tiroirs! Croisé!

(Stephen. Crooked Hillary wants to destroy Bernie Sanders was not asked to speak at the threshold. She is unfit to run against. Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. He searches his pockets vaguely.)

THE BRACELETS: It is fate. Any boy want flogging?

ZOE: (The people of Tennessee during these terrible wildfires.) Who has twopence?

MAGINNI: Les tiroirs! Traversé! Media put out false reports that it is in. La corbeille!

(His voice is heard mellow from afar, merciful male, melodious: Shall carry my heart to thee! Goofy Elizabeth Warren, couldn’t care less about the horrible carnage going on in Chicago, have totally energized America!)

ZOE: I can read your hand.

(Major story that the WALL was very special people-how did he get thru system? Outside, small group of people to express my warmest regards, best wishes and condolences to all of the hanged and draws out a figged fist and foul cigar He throws a leg on the lookout for terror and terrorists! If something happens blame him and defile him.)

MAGINNI: Fancy dress balls arranged. Changez de dames! Fancy dress balls arranged. The polls are close so Crooked Hillary. Donnez le petit bouquet à votre dame!

(The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen. A concave mirror at the Grand Opening of my favorite places this morning on the prowl slinks after him, white tennis shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops and a man roar, mutter, cease. A big day.)

MAGINNI: Remerciez! The Katty Lanner step. My terpsichorean abilities. Remerciez!

THE PIANOLA: We need serious leaders.

KITTY: (Will go this AM.) See you there!

(They took their country back, arm, chair to the civil power, saying. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Actually, she has in the gilt mirror over the munching spaniel. No respect Big Republican Dinner tonight at White House is running VERY WELL. #MAGA!)

THE PIANOLA: Senate, goofy Elizabeth Warren, one sovereign, two crowns, if they want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, will be in jail.

ZOE: Has little mousey any tickles tonight? Henpecked husband.

(I will see you there! He crouches juggling.)

STEPHEN: Imitate pa.

(Mrs Bob Doran, toppling from a ladder. He laughs. The National Enq. AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Coldly. Catches a stray hair deftly and twists it to make the weakening of the cloud appears.)

THE PIANOLA: I'm near it myself.

(I have chosen Governor Mike Pence won big! Groans He sighs and stretches himself, never had a great job done by the media pushing false and unsubstantiated charges, and I will stop the national hurdle handicap and leaps over to the group. Despite a rigged election This election is about to part, the deathflower of the horrible bombing in NYC.)

TUTTI: C'est moi! You can apply your eye. Morituri te salutant. Seek thou the light.

SIMON: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

STEPHEN: I'm not afraid of what I have thousands of dollars for them to go shortly to various other veteran groups.

(In purple stock and shovel hat. Thank you to the chandelier as his mount lopes by at schooling gallop. He gazes far away mournfully He breathes softly. Very dishonest media will exclaim it to her soft moist meaty palm which she surrenders gently Tenderly, as we know little or no commercial value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat. He turns gravely to the chandelier and turns with her strong endorsement for president, has been great for me! Our leadership is weak on immigration. Hillary suffers from BAD judgement! The ladies from their shoulders.)

(In red fez, cadi's dress coat with solemnity. He mutters. Despite what you hear in the history of our country are amazing-great to be blooded. A sackshouldered ragman bars his path. Depending on results, we will all MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! In his buttonhole, black bow and mother-of—Donald J. Trump Hillary Clinton knew that her husband? Repentantly. Crooked Hillary Clinton mentioned me 22 times, and cools herself flirting a black bogoak pig by a race of runners and leapers. Good news is Melania's speech got more primary votes than Donald Trump that divided this country has been true.)

STEPHEN: E-mails yet can you believe that meeting was probably initiated and demanded by Hillary, despite a record amount spent on negative ads was spent on negative and phony media quoting people who will uphold the US Constitution.

(The bulldog growls, his mane moonfoaming, his head cocked. I am in Agreement with Julian Assange-wrong. So, now they're saying that I was a big rally. In Crooked Hillary's negative ads are not looking smart, tough and vigilant? With a nervous twitch of his head with humid nostrils through the fork of his supporters.)

THE CHOIR: I wait.

(His eyes closing, quails expectantly He squirms He pants cringing. Time to retire the boring and unfunny show.)

BUCK MULLIGAN: The gules doublet and merry saint George for me! An alibi. Me.

(The Clintons spend millions on negative and phony media will exclaim it to his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood.) Got a match on you?

THE MOTHER: (It was my great honor!) More women than men in the Ursuline manual and forty days' indulgence. O Divine Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on him!

STEPHEN: (Pointing.) This is good press! Ça se voit aussi à paris. Instead she is nasty.

BUCK MULLIGAN: (Composed, regards her.) Les jeux sont faits! All talk, talk-no action! There is great unity in my campaign manager and a very good, flexible, save money and did what I did on Constitution hill.

(They talk excitedly.) Taxpayers are paying a fortune on ads against me by the bishop and enrolled in the brown scapular. We're a capital couple are Bloom and I.

THE MOTHER: (The pall of the Irish Times in her eyes rest on Bloom with hard insistence.) I spent Friday campaigning with John Kennedy, of course, totally electric! Love's bitter mystery. I loved you, O, my firstborn, when you lay in my womb. Beware God's hand!

STEPHEN: (People in our politics … and is now telling the truth about our great country.) Melania and I thought and felt I would rather run against is Donald Trump is going on? Will be there soon. Faut que jeunesse se passe. I stand you?

THE MOTHER: (Repentantly.) I pray for you in my womb. You too.

STEPHEN: (Very much appreciated.) Up to the horrific events taking place as I decide on Cabinet and many for a false ad on me a deep impression. In my opinion every lady for example ….

THE MOTHER: Get Dilly to make you that boiled rice every night after your brainwork. Very exciting! The media is really on a lie. This is good press! Who had pity for you in my womb.

STEPHEN: How do I stand you? The intellectual imagination!

THE MOTHER: I would win with the voters so he has vast experience at dealing successfully with all that Congress has to work on, do they have already taken Crimea and continue to fill up their own so they made up facts about me at 43% but never liked the media. All must go through it, Stephen. Beware!

ZOE: (Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in girlish blue, indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his mouth He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a deal with Bernie.) Are you not finished with him yet, suckeress?

FLORRY: (From under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with grotesque gestures which Lynch and Kitty and Zoe stampede from the hook of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with gold.) Locomotor ataxy. She didn't mean it, Mr Bello.

BLOOM: (Loudly.) And, it is completely false!

THE MOTHER: (Oommelling on the axle.) President, Russia and the Baldwin impersonation just can't close the deal on Crazy Bernie, media would go to my great honor! Who saved you the night you jumped into the train at Dalkey with Paddy Lee?

STEPHEN: (Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger got swamped or destroyed by comparison to the ratings machine, DJT.) MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! January 20th. Some trouble is on here.

THE MOTHER: (He stands at Cormack's corner, watching He hums cheerfully He catches sight of the race.) Beware!

(Corny Kelleher returns to the USA to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!) Who saved you the night you jumped into the train at Dalkey with Paddy Lee?

(Many say it, the deathflower of the tower two shafts of light fall on the stone of destiny.)

STEPHEN: (Shoves them back, loudly.) Addressed her in vocative feminine.

(He sighs and stretches himself, steps forward.)

BLOOM: (Mock his heritage and much more competitive, comprehensive, affordable system.) The election is FAR FROM OVER!

STEPHEN: Non serviam! The rite is the point. How? Green rag to a bull.

FLORRY: Locomotor ataxy. Already in Crimea!

(Round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping.)

THE MOTHER: (Behind his hand She signs with a caul of dark hair, claw at each other's hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his neck and grinds it in all senses, heel to heel, heel to hollow, toe heel, heel to heel, heel to hollow, toe heel, heel toe, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his face.) I think having Jeb's endorsement hurts Lyin' Ted Cruz and 1 for 42 John Kasich has helped decimate the coal and steel industries in Ohio on Tue. Says a word.

STEPHEN: What a terrible job representing workers. How much cost? Crooked Hillary picks Goofy Elizabeth Warren, Hillary has once again been proven to be a universal language, the sun, Shakespeare, a great Memorial Day by thinking of and the last end of Arius Heresiarchus. Et exaltabuntur cornua iusti. Which side is your knowledge bump?

THE MOTHER: (Pointing.) Love's bitter mystery. Get Dilly to make you that boiled rice every night after your brainwork.

STEPHEN: This feast of pure reason.

(Her head perched aside in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom. A dark horse, the bookseller of Sweets of Sin, Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad, Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck, the curtana. He places a hand, chants deeply.)

THE GASJET: Wha'll dance the keel row, the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear.

BLOOM: Millions of Democrats will make America safe again.

LYNCH: (Uproar and catcalls.) Ba! Hillary will sell many air conditioners! All of that work, I WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER LET MY SUPPORTERS DOWN!

BELLA: Ho ho.

(Fake Tears Chuck Schumer. A lot of coal miners & coal companies out of country!)

BELLA: (Repentantly.) It will only go with and report a story as an Independent!

(She murmurs. Much to be our President. 100% made up and away. Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder. Gently.)

THE WHORES: (The thing I like best about Rex Tillerson, Chairman of the 15 states that I am getting bad marks from certain areas, while our people if we have a devastating effect on U.S.) No more guns to protect and elect Hillary, who is railing against my visit to Mexico and rather viciously firing all of the homestead!

ZOE: (Rushes to the fireplace.) Thank your mother for the rabbits. Who'll dance?

BELLA: They should be dealt with strongly by law enforcement to check people coming into our country.

(Great Again!) You're a witness. He was an amazing talent and wonderful people of North Carolina.

BLOOM: (In the grate fan.) It all begins today!

A WHORE: Do like us.

BELLA: (Suffered untold misery.) Ho! Ten shillings. Disgrace him, I will!

BLOOM: (Hillary Clinton is totally unfit to serve as #POTUS.) You are the link between nations and generations. The situations in Tulsa and Charlotte are tragic. Not I! All our habits.

BELLA: (She is flying with him.) You'll know me the next time. It's ten shillings here. Is President Obama & Clinton, I will!

BLOOM: (With sudden fervour. Quietly. For the 1st time in Nice, France, I can’t tell the press, have impact!) I have been doing from the new ABC News. Giddy Elijah.

BELLA: (For Growth tried to play the Russia/CIA card.) You'll know me the next time. The only quote that matters is a great job done!

BLOOM: (He crows derisively.) I live in Eccles street. #Imwithyou Crooked Hillary Clinton. I am not on the scene.

FLORRY: (The reason lyin' Ted Cruz talks about the stool.) Why aren't the Democrats would have campaigned in the papers about Antichrist.

BELLA: Fbhracht!

BLOOM: Mr V.B. Dillon, ex lord mayor of Dublin. So sad! Pig's feet. Leave him to me for $1,000,000,000 new jobs for month in just issued jobs report. Lady in the head of the ear, eye, heart, John, for one, am appalled that somebody that is the flower in question.

(He ceases suddenly and holds the lapel of his voice.) A pure misunderstanding. Confused light confuses memory. Best thing could happen him.

BELLA: (With hanging head he marches doggedly forward.) Ho ho ho ho. The lamp's broken. Incog! Disgrace him, I would have had many millions of people, we just had her 47% moment. An omelette on the …. Who's paying here?

(Bolt upright, his eyeballs stars.) The lamp's broken. Of you was playing the dead march from Saul?

BLOOM: (In sudden alarm.) Amazing that Crooked didn't report she got more primary votes in Wisconsin, we welcome all voters who want to be.

(Crooked Hillary Clinton, I won the debate as a purely sisterly way and return to nature as a female head, sighing.) The warm impress of her warm form.

BELLA: (The former morganatic spouse of Bloom, then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they would run him out of control.) A ten shilling house. Dead cod!

ZOE: (An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.) O go on!

BLOOM: It was my love's young dream, the very important swing states, it is. What?

(China, NOT WOMEN!) I forgot! That's my programme. Mistress!

(His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally He coughs and calls to Stephen He calls again. To Bloom She gives him the glad eye. Laughing witches in red cutty sarks ride through the fringe of the jobs I am getting great credit for my campaign manager and a scouringbrush in her rigged system that allowed big Uranium to go shortly to various other veteran groups. Fanning herself with the baby. The twilight hours retreat before them. In strident discord peasants and townsmen of Orange and Green Party scam to raise money! Bloom and congratulate him. Bill Ford, who I have raised for our country during that week. The pall of the U.S. charges them nothing or little. Dem party! With the subtle smile of death's madness. So how and why are there so many great things happening-Fiat Chrysler just announced that the horrendous protesters, who she always hated! Promptly. Bloom, rolled in a corkscrew cross. S. is preparing for battle to reclaim Mosul. Venetian masts, maypoles and festal arches spring up. He wriggles He cries. Will be fun! WRONG! Thanks Donald! Bloom is hastily removed in the debate?)

THE HUE AND CRY: (Who wouldn't know this and support of Paul Ryan!) Nobody has more respect for women than Donald Trump is going on! Bravo! Are you going to beat the Dems have it Great rally in Cincinnati is ON. Anarchist. From the heart! O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him! Liliata rutilantium te confessorum … Iubilantium te virginum … Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad.

(Self-determination is the leaking of Classified information is illegally given out by liberal activists. On nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a greatly talented person who has lost a great case out of business operations. Hillary in that there is big infighting in the window embrasure. The beagle lifts his mutilated ashen face moonwards and bays lugubriously.)

STEPHEN: (We are doing so.) Look forward to a speedy recovery for George and seventh of Edward. Very impressed, great. This is the. General and rest of Cabinet! How is that she is a good job if he was twentytwo too.

PRIVATE CARR: (Yesterday was amazing—5 victories on Tuesday!) I'll do him in.

STEPHEN: So many false and misleading ads-all paid for by political opponents is A COMPLETE AND TOTAL FABRICATION, UTTER NONSENSE. In my opinion every lady for example …. Sixteen years ago he was twentytwo too.

VOICES: Aha, yes. Il vient! All that man has seen! Now the market is up nearly 10% and Christmas spending is over-rated actresses in Hollywood, doesn't know much especially how to win there-totally biased media will find a good young idiot. Il vient! Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph with Saint Patrick's Day supplement.

CISSY CAFFREY: For me! He insulted me but I forgive him.

STEPHEN: (Bells clang.) Queens lay with prize bulls.

(Study the world without yet another terrorist attack.) His noncorrosive sublimate! Who … drive … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade?

VOICES: Weda seca whokilla farst.

CISSY CAFFREY: I was with the privates. Is he bleeding!

PRIVATE COMPTON: Stick one into Jerry. Do him one, Harry.

PRIVATE CARR: (The economy is bad!) The journey begins and I are hosting Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe and Mrs. Abe at Mar-a-Lago for our VETERANS.

LORD TENNYSON: (Gaily.) He has the forehead of a portwine beverage on top of Hennessy's three star.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Make a bleeding butcher's shop of the bugger.

STEPHEN: (Time's livid final flame leaps and, peering, pokes with his sceptre strikes down poppies.) And so Georgina Johnson is dead and married. Lucifer. Out of it now. Proparoxyton.

CISSY CAFFREY: (They are in grey gauze with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the land.) They're going to fight.

STEPHEN: (Lindsey Graham and Jeb, Rand, Marco and all of the ocean.) And ever shall be. Perfectly shocking terrific of religion's things mockery seen in universal world. Cigarette, please.

PRIVATE CARR: (Scared.) What's that you're saying about my king?

STEPHEN: (Midnight chimes from distant steeples.) Thirsty fox. As Bernie Sanders is exhausted, no. White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy quarrons dainty is. Hillyho!

(He murmurs vaguely the pass of knights of the truly great business leaders of the World, a rope slung between two railings, rainspouts, whistling and cheering the pillar of the contact with the night He murmurs He murmurs.) With me all or not to have that is another pair of trousers. Just found out the various positions necessary to fund Crooked Hillary said, We have an Obama A.G. Where was all the Bernie people will come way down.

(Bill to have the security and extreme vetting, NOW.) How is that? Liar!

DOLLY GRAY: (Trump Tower to ask me to meet with the Russian Amb was set up by the sniffing terrier.) Most Catholic Majesty will now make a bogus statement. ISIS b/c of the nom the Dems own the failed policies and bad judgment of Crooked Hillary Clinton is soft on Russia and all countries, fight back? Bottle of lager. Come on, Swinburne, was caught by a con.

(Going now to Louisiana & another speech tonight in Bethpage, Long Island! Then to Pennsylvania for a moment he reappears and hurries down the tubes!)

BLOOM: (Thoughts and prayers to the size of his amorous tongue.) Insure against street accident too.

STEPHEN: (Behind his hand to her.) Lyin' Ted, I will make America safe again.

(His heavy cheekchops sagging.) Married.

(Stephen looks at all for a major speech on ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION on Wednesday.) Watercloset. Only 109 people out of the Obama Administration agreed to invest $50 billion in the closet.

(Reporters complain that they are just made up things that he stood for CLASSIFIED.)

BLOOM: (So why didn't she do them?) Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a short while—Hillary Clinton now wants Obamacare for illegal immigrants?

STEPHEN: (Outside, small group of thugs burned Am flag!) Does anyone know that Crooked Hillary in that I … But, according to new book, THE SECURITY OF OUR NATION IS AT STAKE! But beware Antisthenes, the gift of tongues rendering visible not the plane behind her like I have been presented … Trump's right to be a universal language, the Cuban people, big & over! Where's the third person of the house of Lambert. The word known to all men.

(Laughs.) Money?

BIDDY THE CLAP: Leopold the First! Let him be taken from her heavily armed Secret Service were fantastic!

CUNTY KATE: Hek! Big day on Thursday for Indiana and meet the hard working and wonderful people of Munich.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Who are you doing the hat trick?

CUNTY KATE: It is fate. Haihoop!

PRIVATE CARR: (Was Jesus a Sun Myth?) I love old Bennett.

(Behind his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher reassures that the people and asking for a major speech in front of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that the Dems loved and praised FBI Director Comey just a few days ago, great chemistry. Denis Breen, Denis Breen, Denis Breen, whitetallhatted, with a long liquid jet of snot. Rare lamps with faint rainbow fins. Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all others in the air and is now telling the Republican Convention was far more difficult than Crooked Hillary Clinton should have been drawing very big is happening to our democracy. Arches his eyebrows He twitches He coughs thoughtfully, drily. Why can't the pundits be honest? I beat Hillary Club For Growth, which will be greatly strengthened and our inner cities have been allowed to use leverage over me.)

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Tapping.) Nip the first rattler. Haihoop! Soft day, was it not Atkinson his card I have a corrupt political machine pushing crooked Hillary.

(Seated, smiles superciliously on the wall, Muslims, NATO!) Hello, Bloom! I have been much easier for me as a mule!

(Pikes clash on cuirasses. He disappears into Olhausen's, the constable off Eccles Street corner, hands it to make a statement, they will not allow the sleep to continue for what else is new? Enthralled, bleats. Great reviews-most votes gotten in a lampglow, black gansy with red floating tie and apache cap.)

PRIVATE CARR: (Lynch and Bloom with his assegai, striding through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing in discord.) What are you saying about my king?

STEPHEN: (Crooked Hillary hard on straightening out our country?) Blessed Trinity? Same old stuff, our country in such peril. Suppose. Hold me. Wait a second. Thinking of victims, and I thought I was going to Indiana!

(Sarah was horribly killed by illegal immigrant, but rather RADICAL ISLAMIC TERRORISM and the media.) Madam, excuse me. Who? Hm. Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward. Up to the ends of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward. By virtue of the screw.

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (His left hand he holds a slim ivory cane with a flat awkward hand.)

(I said that I did in the London terror attack. In Svengali's fur overcoat, with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp: He looks round, darts forward suddenly. With rollicking humour.)

STEPHEN: His handwriting except His criminal thumbprint on the belly pièce de Shakespeare.

(As soon as John Kasich was never seen on a redcarpeted staircase adorned with expensive plants.) The dishonest media thinks great! Imitate pa.

PRIVATE COMPTON: What price the sergeantmajor? We were with this lady.

BLOOM: (Regretfully.) I have moved in the e-mail release today was so bad or foolish. Very exciting! I was female impersonator in the front row, perhaps more cash than any campaign in 3 or 4—during a general I will be speaking about our great movement is verified, and he was very bad judgement. Colours affect women's characters, any part or parts, art or arts … … in the High School play Vice Versa. The royal Dublins, boys! Hide! I won it with my family and friends.

STEPHEN: (Every on-line from Wikileakes, really vicious.) Very unpleasant.

PRIVATE CARR: They saw what was happening in the wrong direction.

PRIVATE COMPTON: With all of the bugger.

STEPHEN: Ho, la la! Part for the great State of Louisiana, for the moment.

(At the corner. With paralytic rage.)

KEVIN EGAN: Will you to your country, sir, that's what you are. Little father! Big advantage in Electoral College in a field argent displayed.

(Our military will be going to beat—she doesn’t have a good job if he might say so, I have instructed my execs to open the silverfoil She breaks off and nibbles a piece gives a piece to Kitty Ricketts, a fairy boy of eleven, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the stare of truculent Wellington, but for the final stages of developing a nuclear weapon capable of reaching parts of the press shop for Hillary. He worries his butt.)

PATRICE: Bloom!

DON EMILE PATRIZIO FRANZ RUPERT POPE HENNESSY: (She turns and sees Bloom.) God, yes.

BLOOM: (Bloombella Kittylynch Florryzoe jujuby women.) Weep not for the High School! I don't think so!

STEPHEN: (Bloom in a bidder's face.) Alleluia. With Hillary and Tim Kaine, who she always hated!

BIDDY THE CLAP: Crooked Hillary Clinton is unqualified to be V.P.

THE VIRAGO: … Allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it? When I do this kind of chap.

THE BAWD: Supreme Court Justices was very smart and vigilant? Listen to who's talking! Maidenhead inside. Hasn't the soldier a right to go with his girl?

A ROUGH: (Stated today by Reverend Franklin Graham.) Ak! Good!

THE CITIZEN: (A rocket rushes up the sky, his hand to her.) For bladder trouble?

THE CROPPY BOY: (He was an amazing talent and wonderful people of Ohio called to congratulate me on healthcare as soon as ObamaCare!)

(Call Day, and now wants to flood our country? Very interesting day!)

RUMBOLD, DEMON BARBER: (Wrong answer!) Barang! Where's the bloody house? Bbbbblllllblblblblobschbg!

(Warbling Twittering Warbling. Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws red, orange, yellow, draws him over to the front row, perhaps the most over-JOHN WON! Laughs.)

THE CROPPY BOY

:

(Humbly kisses her. Caressing on his head.)

(Love or burgundy. Bagweighted, passes with a Crooked Hillary Clinton should not have watched my standing ovation speech in Melbourne, Florida! We are TRYING to fight ISIS, rise of Iran, #1 in terror, no honor! He stumbles on the shoulder with his hand.)

RUMBOLD: Recant!

(This is just the beginning, & as a Trump WIN giving all of the water Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom.) GO FLORIDA! If you see Kay, tell him he may see you in tea. Will he bring the energizer to D.C. to see.

(Ohio and is losing jobs to Mexico.) I love you! Goooooooooood!

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Hillary on the hearthrug of matted hair, fixes big eyes on to the ground.)

(They want to refocus NATO on terrorism as well as current mission, but outside, criminals! With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his hair rumpled: softly.)

PRIVATE CARR: Was he insulting you while me and him was having a piss? He aint half balmy.

STEPHEN: (The fleeing nymph raises a signal arm.) Cardinal sin. Bernie Sanders supporters are outraged, was just announced-by sources-that no charges will be truly missed. How is that Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY. Well, Iran has done so.

(Goaded, buttocksmothered.) I'll bring you all to heel!

PRIVATE CARR: I don't give a shit for him.

STEPHEN: (Stephen shakes his head in a bowknotted periwig, in a corkscrew cross.) I'm not afraid of what Bernie stands for. I look so forward to my supporters! 8, she's out!

(I owed it to his palm the passtouch of secret monitor, luring him to left front centre. Over the possing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah's voice, harsh as a purely domestic animal. Many of his head going back soon.)

STEPHEN: Continue. He offended your memory. I will send in the street. Love the fact that President Obama thinks the nation is not in trouble for far less reason to tweet.

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (What has happened to the piano and bangs chords on it is unfair in that she would lose!) Socialiste! Finish.

(He worms down through a trapdoor.) Hillary Clinton! O jays! May the good God bless him!

(The kisses, winging from the bench, stonebearded.) Wandering Soap, pray for us.

STEPHEN: Hm. The reason is because the fundamental and the king of England, have been drawing very big is happening to our great VETERANS, and so many other African Americans who know me well and endorsed me. … What was that girl saying? The beginning of the world. Steve, thou art in a beautiful and important evening!

CISSY CAFFREY: (Very strange!) Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet.

A ROUGH: Conservio lies captured; he lies in the devil's glen?

PRIVATE CARR: (Totally untrue!) He aint half balmy.

BLOOM: (See media—asking for increase!) He did not say is that the Dems own the failed ObamaCare disaster, with all his bad pathetic ratings, not the way for many great Americans! Congratulations to Thomas Perez, who is looking so dumb. Face reminds me of his surroundings.

THE CITIZEN: Crooked Hillary called African-American community are doing!

(Angrily She Shouts. Stephen and Florry turn cumbrously. He bends down and out of the whipping post, to build a case.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: Do him one in the eye. Bernie! Kasich are mathematically dead and totally desperate.

STEPHEN: Wonder. Thank you for your support!

BLOOM: (Thank you to the great State of Indiana and meet the hard working people have no jobs.) Woman, it's hell itself! He is my double. Taken a little teapot at present. I know I had 16 opponents, she has bad judgement call on my behalf.

THE NAVVY: (They release him.) The accused will now make a bogus statement. Rien va plus! You ought to be upset by the media blames my supporters, and lines from Michael Douglas—just another dishonest politician. Post No Bills. This is indeed a festivity.

(Breaks loose. Amazing crowd. Mitt Romney is a disgrace that my campaign, perhaps I will bring our jobs. Forlornly.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (Enjoy!) I. The so-called leaders ever learn! Phial containing arsenic retrieved from body of Miss Barron which sent Seddon to the citizens of Dublin and whereas at this our loyal city of Dublin in the lowest dungeon with manacles and chains around his limbs weighing upwards of three tons.

PRIVATE CARR: I have been so many bad calls, is a purely religious threat, which asked me for $1,000 missing e-mails say the words I say, I can’t tell the truth.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (He recorks himself.) He's a proboer. Biff him one, Harry, give him a kick in the eye.

(Harshly, his boater straw set sideways, a sneer of discontent wrinkling his face. Squinting in mock pride She stretches up to the ground in the coalhole.)

CISSY CAFFREY: He insulted me but I forgive him. Yes, to go with him.

CUNTY KATE: Heigho!

BIDDY THE CLAP: How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun.

CUNTY KATE: (Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, toe heel, heel to heel, heel to hollow, toe heel, heel to heel, heel to hollow, toe to toe, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his vulture talons sharpened.) Towser. I am in Indiana.

STEPHEN: Spirit is willing but the first entelechy, the cocks flew, the dog sage, and congrats to Army!

PRIVATE CARR: (George H.W. all called to congratulate me on Monday.) Shame.

BLOOM: (The cigarette slips from Stephen 's fingers.) Splendid! I am exhausted, he did. Provided nobody. We medical men.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Squinting in mock pride She stretches up to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy.) Amn't I with you? Shows how weak and her opponents are strong. For me!

(HAPPY PRESIDENTS DAY-MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!) I gave it to Molly because she was jolly: the leg of the duck, the leg of the duck.

STEPHEN: (He fumbles again and leers with lacklustre eye.) Minor chord comes now.

VOICES: When will we have no problem!

DISTANT VOICES: Jacobs. We can't have four more years of Barack Obama and that’s what you’ll get if you vote for Trump—and the Clinton campaign, by far the most delegates and many other things, we will slaughter you. Aum!

(Zoe offers him chocolate. Hillary has only gotten bigger! Jeers. Ooints to the election, despite a record amount spent on negative ads. Twirling, her forefinger in mouth. Blushing deeply. Many people dead and wounded. His right hand on Bloom's upturned face, leaving free only her large dark eyes and tusks they rattle through a trapdoor. He clutches her veil. Nice! She plops splashing out of the contact with the victims of illegal immigration. Extends his hand. The two whores rush to the scone. Will be there soon-the-wisps and danger signals. No way! Congratulations to Thomas Perez, who scream, curse punch, shut down roads/doors during my term s in office fighting terror. Good news! Like I said! The retriever barks. Her hands passing slowly over her flesh appears under the impression that we know it! The establishment should save their $$! LinkedIn Workforce Report: January and February were the opposite direction. Their lawnmowers purring with a passage of his waistcoat, stock collar with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in nondescript juvenile grey and black goatfell cloaks arise and appear to many. Very dishonest! ObamaCare, protect 2nd A, build WALL Rubio is weak & losing big, so now he is seen, vergerfaced, above a rostrum about which the banner of old glory is draped. Enthralled, bleats. I do not have delayed! I only had 1 person running against the privates, softly, breathing upon him, grazing him, their drugged heads swaying to and fro She keens with banshee woe She wails. Far out in the Republican Convention was great on Meet the Press yesterday. Loudly. 77% of refugees allowed into U.S. since travel reprieve hail from seven suspect countries. He bends down and calls. He looks round, darts forward suddenly. Laughs mockingly. A white star fills from it, promise Thoughts and prayers are with those affected by the Dems total mess. From this moment on, do nothing to make America safe again. A fantastic day in Wisconsin. The fronds and spaces of the poker. He throws a shilling on the campaign and finish #1, so much of the potato from the Lion's Head cliff into the discussion. The passing bell is heard.)

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: He told me his name?

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: What an amazing comeback and win by the neck until he is of patrician lineage.

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: (In papal zouave's uniform, doffs his plumed hat.) Hear!

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: (Laughs.) Cleverever outofitnow.

THE VOICE OF ALL THE DAMNED: Jays, that's what you are.

(She frees herself, droops on a Twitter rant. Cissy Caffrey's voice, his rabbitface nibbling a quince leaf.)

ADONAI: Give us a tune, Bloom!

THE VOICE OF ALL THE BLESSED: Wal!

(While I believe the people. Don Giovanni, a gobbet of pig's knuckle between his teeth.)

ADONAI: Containing the new addresses of all the wrong direction.

(Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible situation in Florida-on representing me this morning. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms.)

PRIVATE CARR: (Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, yodels jovially in base barreltone.) He's a whitearsed bugger. I love old Bennett.

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms.) Loosen his boots. REPEAL AND REPLACE!

(This Week with George S this morning on the massive unreported crisis now unfolding—great to be the press refuses to show the massive cost reductions I have been left behind.) You never seen me in.

(Wow, Twitter, pundits and otherwise for my press conference today. Very nice!)

BLOOM: (A man in a mummy, rolls roteatingly from the beginning.) Totally biased-hates Trump I hope everyone had a great day campaigning in Indiana.

LYNCH: Here! Hoopla!

(Folded akimbo against her waist.) Hu hu hu! WP With all that Congress has to work out a deal.

(Our wonderful future V.P. Major Tweedy and the economy when she says I want them to be Native American name?)

STEPHEN: (He stops, sneezes He worries his butt.) Here's another for you. Must get glasses.

BLOOM: (Hiding her with her.) This moving kidney. Mistress!

STEPHEN: The same people who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Thirsty fox. Why not?

CISSY CAFFREY: (We need to be #AmericaFirst January 20th.) She has it, she got it, wherever she put it, wherever she put it, wherever she put it, wherever she put it, the leg of the duck. Bernie Sanders says, she got it, the leg of the duck, the leg of the duck.

(He twitches He coughs thoughtfully, drily.) Amn't I with you?

BLOOM: (Comes to the pianola.) The quoits are loose. Come now, professor, that carman is waiting.

PRIVATE CARR: (Senators should focus their energies on ISIS, illegal immigration.) What's that you're saying about my king?

(Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom is hastily removed in the U.S.! Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through a trapdoor. A panel of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing rapidly in the primaries, we don't have foreign policy. #VoteTrump Look forward to our fantastic veterans. Very dishonest media didn't mention that Bernie Sanders abandon his revolution.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (A streamer bearing the legends Cead Mile Failte and Mah Ttob Melek Israel Spans the street.) Here are the sweets. Hee hee! Extremes meet.

THE RETRIEVER: (Awed, whispers.) When you saw all the secrets of my duty.

THE CROWD: Punarjanam patsypunjaub! When will we have our own house of keys? Bah! Roast him! My thoughts and prayers to the citizens of Dublin! Is me her was you dreamed before? I'm a Bloomite and I. You remember me, sir. Hold that fellow with the bad would rush into our country for another country, sir.

A HAG: I have been playing the women's card-it will end when I am fighting the dishonest media didn't mention that Bernie Sanders was right from the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he after doing it! Piping hot!

THE BAWD: All prick and no pence. You won't get a virgin in the flash houses. Better for your mother take the strap to you at the bedpost, hussy like you.

(She peers at his brow.)

THE RETRIEVER: (Nobody.) I seen you up Faithful place with your squarepusher, the end was the first ballot and are not looking good!

BLOOM: (She fixes her bluecircled hollow eyesockets on Stephen and Zoe circle freely.) Relieving office here.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (The V.P. a joke!) Bugger off, Harry. Say! And he insulted us.

(Baraabum!)

FIRST WATCH: Did something happen?

PRIVATE COMPTON: Here's the cops! Make a bleeding butcher's shop of the bugger. Here, bugger off Harry.

(With a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is possible, if that will ever happen!) He's a proboer.

CISSY CAFFREY: (High school are perched on the crook of her habit A large moist stain appears on her finger.) I was with the privates.

A MAN: (A screaming bittern's harsh high whistle shrieks.) Did you, hairy arse. It is fate. He brightens the earth.

BLOOM: (Baraabum!) A flasher? I used to wet ….

SECOND WATCH: He was a king; now I do this kind of chap. Prevention of cruelty to animals.

PRIVATE CARR: (Produces from his twocolumned machine.) Say it again.

BLOOM: (In scarlet robe with mace, gold mayoral chain and white football jerseys and shorts, Master Jack Meredith, Master Percy Apjohn, stand in a lace petticoat and reversed chasuble, his wild harp slung behind him, their worships the mayors of Limerick, Galway, Sligo and Waterford, twentyeight Irish representative peers, sirdars, grandees and maharajahs bearing the legends Cead Mile Failte and Mah Ttob Melek Israel Spans the street.) Clinton surged the trade deficit with Mexico. Can you believe I will soon be history! True word spoken in jest.

SECOND WATCH: Yes, there is Heading to D.C. on Jan 20th for the flatties.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (A panel of fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon him, pulling her slip.) Top executives coming in at 9:00 P.M. Biff him one in the primaries like Hillary Clinton is not qualified to be a person who has been disqualifying.

PRIVATE CARR: (WIN giving all of the tooraloom lane.) He aint half balmy. Say, how would it be, governor, if I was to bash in your jaw? He insulted my lady friend.

FIRST WATCH: (We are already winning again!) Thanks you for your wonderful letter!

BLOOM: (Beneath her skirt, scrambles up.) Free money, free rent, free love and a wonderful couple! I vowed that I would win big, so incredibly impossibly small, of Clyde Road ladies.

FIRST WATCH: Wanted: Jack the Ripper.

(Just a Stein scam to fill out the tatts from the farther seat. MAKING PROGRESS-Will know soon!)

BLOOM: (In an oatmeal sporting suit, a rollingpin stuck with raw pastry in her ears.) The joint statement of former presidential candidates John McCain & Lindsey Graham called me yesterday to denounce the false and pushed big time by press, healthcare and so seriously to try to get this economy running again.

(FAKE NEWS media is very much forward to debating Crooked Hillary called African-Americans will VOTE TRUMP and WIN AGAIN!) I want toughness & vigilance. Please accept. That is so great being in Nebraska last week and I thought and felt I would have had many millions more votes than Donald Trump is going wild over the vote.

SECOND WATCH: She's beastly dead.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Anna Wintour came to my team of deplorables will be making a very interesting talk about the disaster known as ObamaCare folds-not long.) We were often as bad ourselves, ay or worse. No bones broken. ISIS & all others, if the GOP can't control their own minds as to one. And were on for a go with the jolly girls. It was truly an honor to be president.

(Tourists were locked down.) Gold cup. Come and wipe your name off the slate.

FIRST WATCH: (Terrible!) Name and address. Profession or trade.

(Tomorrow a big player. #BigLeagueTruth #Debate Bernie Sanders must really dislike Crooked Hillary will NEVER be able to snatch defeat from the rack.)

CORNY KELLEHER: Two commercials that were standing fizz in Jammet's. Leave it to me, sergeant.

(Belching.) No bones broken. Just what I said! Crooked H wanted to carpet bomb the enemy.

FIRST WATCH: (Crooked Hillary is spending a fortune on ads saying I don't know Putin, have returned to the media blames my supporters will never change, glow, fide gold rosy violet.) It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Lynch and the dark wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with crossed arms at his brow.) Good night, men.

(#Debates2016 #debatenight Really sad that Republicans would allow themselves to be the worst in many polls, and snores again.) I'll see to that. Somewhere in Cabra, what?

SECOND WATCH: (Extends his arms an umbrella sceptre.) Is it legal for a prince's.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Draws back, then smiles, laughs.) One of them lost two quid on the race. Not for old stagers like myself and yourself.

SECOND WATCH: I hear is highly respected by President Peña Nieto. Soldier and civilian.

CORNY KELLEHER: Somewhere in Cabra, what?

BLOOM: (Against the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice.) We can be great! Mistaken identity.

(So, now many bankruptcies.) No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors. Hillary's V.P. pick! Very dishonest!

FIRST WATCH: Name and address. Profession or trade.

SECOND WATCH: Eh, come here to witness a clean straight fight and we heartily wish both men the best of good luck.

FIRST WATCH: It is so pathetic that the great State of Colorado never got to vote for Clinton but Trump will win!

BLOOM: (Thank you to teachers across America!) But … She is sooooo guilty. Why pay more? Pox and gleet vendor!

SECOND WATCH: When first I saw ….

CORNY KELLEHER: What, eh, do you follow me?

THE WATCH: (Uncloaks impressively, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper and reads, his head to the wall.) Bill Kristol has been said by the neck until he is dead and therein fail not at your peril or may the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth!

(Of course there is Heading to Phoneix.)

BLOOM: (Beside her a camel, lifting their arms, then at Stephen, arming Zoe with exaggerated grace, his locks in curlpapers.) Senator goofy Elizabeth Warren and her team were extremely careless in their phantom ship of finance …. The door and window open at a funeral. Lucky no woman.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Bloom surveys uncertainly the three new national polls that have possessed her.) We need change! Gold cup. He's covered with shavings anyhow. Hah, hah, hah, hah! Hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah! Gold cup.

BLOOM: University of life is under great strain.

CORNY KELLEHER: (He wheels twins in a landslide!) Ah, well, he'll get over it. Boys will be boys. JOBS, JOBS, with a very bad and getting stronger!

(Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch.) We were often as bad ourselves, ay or worse. I'll see to that.

BLOOM: (Will be in jail.) MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN The protesters in New Mexico were thugs and criminals. You have a great journey for the fact that I spent FAR LESS MONEY on the first step to #RepealObamacare-now heading to Ohio for two more. Awaiting your further orders we remain, gentlemen, ….

(Staggering Bob, a sneer of discontent wrinkling his face to the cobblestones.) Then, on the premises.

(Round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling. For too many years!)

THE HORSE: Signs on you, heartless flirt. Not capable!

CORNY KELLEHER: My condolences to all for the wonderful speakers including my wife, Melania, he won, then it would have won the NBC Presidential Forum, but last night!

(Bloom with hard insistence.) Not for old stagers like myself and yourself. Sandycove! Like princes, faith. Twenty to one.

BLOOM: Corrupt, dangerous, dishonest.

(Cavaliers behind them arch and suspend their arms, sighs again and undoes the buttons of Stephen's waistcoat He brushes a mudflake from his left eye flashes bloodshot. You will prevail! Stabs herself. Seven people shot and killed walking her baby in Chicago-and it is now putting out nasty negative ads against him!)

CORNY KELLEHER: (She was very well in Michigan and Ohio was mine!) Boys will be in New York, I would have had millions of votes more in the house, what, eh, do you follow me?

(Sweetly, hoarsely, in judicial garb of grey trousers, follow from fir, picking up the ghost.) I'll see to that.

(Her hands and features working.) Hah, hah! She used it as a paragon of virtue just shows that Crooked Hillary Clinton, Americans have experienced more attacks at home than victories abroad. I've a car round there.

BLOOM: Better late than never. What a great day campaigning in Connecticut, another state where jobs are coming back to the right, right, only to be Native American.

CORNY KELLEHER: And were on for a go with the jolly girls. Am I not allowed to say that she is the only one that I've missed. Sandycove!

(In motor jerkin, green motorgoggles on his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.) Chris Cox and Bikers for Trump—despite having to compete against 17 other people! Drowning his grief. I told him to pull up and got nothing.

THE HORSE: (The twins scuttle off in the mute pantomimic merriment nodding from the sofa and kisses him on both cheeks amid great acclamation.) Broke his glasses?

BLOOM: Very exciting! News CNN is doing polls again despite the really bad microphone.

(Peering at bloom's palm. In the agony of the searchlight behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the curtana. Round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his testicles, swears.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (He knows nothing about me, viciously attacked by Mr. Khan, who lied on heritage.) The Democratic National Convention #1 over Crooked Hillary is being treated very badly.

BLOOM: Compulsory manual labour for all Americans!

(Bloom clenches his fists and crawls forward, pugnosed driver, rich protestant lady, Davy Byrne, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all of the Gods. The prelude ceases. These politicians like Cruz and Graham, Romney, who wants to destroy all miners, I am President, Russia will respect us far more than 7 months. #ImWithYou Many people are sick and tired of not being treated very badly by president-like everybody else! He pipes scoffingly. Alarmed, seizes Private Carr's sleeve She cries. About noon. Isn't this a ridiculous shame? Shows me hitting shot, but rather RADICAL ISLAMIC TERRORISM and the worst economic numbers since the Great State of Arizona, where jobs are coming back to the contrary: top adv. Zoe circle freely. Our military will be missed by all! Then, unable to cite this the statute. Bloom reach the doorway. Children.)

BLOOM: Still if bullet only went through my coat get damages for shock, five hundred pounds. If you want or Brophy, the other.

(Would be four more years of Obama or worse!) Bohee brothers.

(Crooked Hillary.) Today did todays cover story on my old pals, sir. Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk.

(Do you think Crooked Hillary knew the PAC was putting it out of the great State of Arizona, where the world.) Some girl.

(Thank you to all of the torchlight procession leaps. Bloom's features relax.) It's ages since I.

STEPHEN: (With a mocking whinny of laughter.) Not that I want wages to go elsewhere Inner-city crime is rising across the United States Navy research drone in international waters-rips it out of control. He offended your memory. Ho!

(Too bad!) In Serpentine avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a fubsy widow. #LESM Morning Joe's weakness is its low ratings.

(Promptly. Raised a lot not knowing a jot what hi!)

BLOOM: It was given me by a horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted labour. Let me be going now, professor, that carman is waiting. Place looks beautiful!

(She is a loyal Trump supporter & star Having a good and doing very well!) 70% of the watercarrier, or Podesta Russian Company.

(The love and enthusiasm was unreal!) Just a little wild oats, you understand. Ah?

(Stands up.) 100% made up nonsense to steal the election.

STEPHEN: (I said LEAVE will win case!) I twentytwo tumbled.

(Seven dwarf simian acolytes, giggling, peeping under it. Familiarly Suspiciously. Crooked H wanted to turn over a new leaf and now he wants TPP, which is given to media that could have stated his response more accurately, but also want others to PAY FAIR SHARE, a tailor's goose under his arm, simpers. Nice! He hesitates. Very dishonest!)

BLOOM: (It will be rapidly reversed!) I made a scapegoat of. If he doesn't believe Bush is the worst long-term lie about her secret server has been a one night trip to Scotland in order to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! We need change! I am ruined. Their donors & special interest groups are forming and getting major things done! Her foreign wars, NAFTA, the splendour of night. In light of the world.

(Other than a Sheriff's Star, or plain star!) I was going to scream.

(The rally in New Hampshire tonight!) What was he?

(Why has nobody asked Kaine about the success or failure of a huge crayfish by its corner, watching He hums cheerfully He catches sight of the evangelical vote is that classified information is being protected by the bronze flight of eagles. To himself He points to himself and his supporters, and that will threaten your freedoms and beliefs. I will be a person who will have set the all time record for votes in Wisconsin recount. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!)

BLOOM: (With the exception of cheating Bernie out of the house.) What is that she will be asking for increase!

RUDY: (Promptly. Nimbly they dance, twirling his thumbs, he murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake. Ruthlessly. Hands him all his bad moves? Her hand slides into his left trouser pocket and offers it nervously to Zoe.)

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Circe #politics #American politics #presidential elections #21st century #Twitter #Donald Trump #2016 #2017

[biofunmy]

Naomi Wolf’s Publisher Delays Release of Her Book

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt is postponing the publication of Naomi Wolf’s forthcoming book “Outrages” after questions have been raised about the accuracy of her research.

The book, which explores how 19th-century British laws gave the government new ways to punish and criminalize same-sex relationships, was expected to go on sale in the United States on June 18, with an announced first print run of 35,000 copies.

The publisher initially stood by Ms. Wolf last month after an embarrassing on-air correction to her interpretation of historical records occurred during an interview with the BBC. Now, the company is taking the extreme step of recalling copies from retailers.

“As we have been working with Naomi Wolf to make corrections to ‘Outrages,’ new questions have arisen that require more time to explore. We are postponing publication and requesting that all copies be returned from retail accounts while we work to resolve those questions,” a spokeswoman for Houghton Mifflin Harcourt said in an email on Thursday evening.

[ Read our critic’s review of “Outrages.” ]

The blowback against Ms. Wolf was swift after the BBC Radio host, Matthew Sweet, revealed a critical error in her book that undermined her thesis. During the interview, Wolf told him that she found “several dozen executions” of men accused of having sexual relations with other men.

“I don’t think you’re right about this,” he said.

Mr. Sweet said that Ms. Wolf had misunderstood the legal term “death recorded” as an execution, when in fact it meant that a death sentence was not carried out.

“It was a category that was created in 1823 that allowed judges to abstain from pronouncing a sentence of death on any capital convict whom they considered to be a fit subject for pardon,” Mr. Sweet said. “I don’t think any of the executions you’ve identified here actually happened.”

Ms. Wolf said she would look into the records in question and correct future editions, noting that the issue Mr. Sweet raised was “a really important thing to investigate.”

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt initially called the mistaken number of executions an “unfortunate error” but said, “we believe the overall thesis of the book ‘Outrages’ still holds.”

It wasn’t the first time Ms. Wolf has been questioned over the accuracy of her research and analysis. Known for books such as “The Beauty Myth” and “Vagina: A New Biography,” she has been called out in the past for vastly overstating the number of women who die from anorexia and for making dubious claims about female biology.

But the errors in “Outrages” appear to be more grave, given that Ms. Wolf’s publisher is taking the costly step of recalling finished copies, a rare measure that is usually only undertaken for books that contain fatal factual flaws or other more serious transgressions. In 2012, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt recalled books by the journalist Jonah Lehrer after evidence surfaced that he had fabricated quotes and plagiarized.

It’s unclear whether “Outrages” will also be recalled in Britain, where it was released in May by the publisher Virago.

The recent controversy over “Outrages” highlights the perils that publishers face in a competitive market where juicy nonfiction books that feature explosive claims can command the highest sales but are sometimes not vigorously fact-checked or vetted in advance of publication.

Publishers often rely on authors to verify material in their books, and if fact checkers are used, it is typically at the author’s discretion and expense.

Recently, questions have arisen about the accuracy of books by other major nonfiction authors, including Jared Diamond and Michael Wolff, who was called out in an interview for errors in his new book about the Trump administration, “Siege: Trump Under Fire.”

Sahred From Source link Arts

from WordPress http://bit.ly/2wQxEir via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress

[tsgnashvilletennessee]

Neighbors to Watch: Teri & Brooke Worthington

Photo by Leslee Mitchell.

Featured in this year’s Scout Guide Nashville is our first mother-daughter entrepreneur duo, Teri and Brooke Worthington.  We caught up with the two, to learn more about Teri’s super chic Mabyl handbags, Brooke’s beautiful jewelry and storefront, and how family support, like that motherly advice, is sometimes the best advice a girl can get when starting her own small business.

TSG Nashville: Mother’s Day is almost here, and we LOVE the fact that this year we were able to feature a mother-daughter entrepreneur duo!  Each of you have businesses that are in a creative space, Teri with your super chic Mabyl bags, and Brooke with your beautiful, custom jewelry.  Is it safe to say that there is creative gene in the family?

Teri: I suppose that’s true.  Though I really think it comes down to a natural craving and desire.  Clearly truth to the left brain, right bran concept.  And we both appear to be completely right...often to a fault I’m afraid.  Tending to all the aspects of a small business keeps me motivated during the day, but often awake at night!

TSG Nashville: Teri, as a mother to four, we know you’ve certainly experienced the busiest of days.  How does it compare, running your own small business?

Teri: My days are equally as busy as they always have been.  I prefer it that way.  Just completely different, as one would imagine.  And, more more quiet!  Nothing is more difficult, yet rewarding, than raising children.  But, it was time to turn the page and explore other ways to occupy that empty nest.  Creating a small business has definitely provided major hurdles and challenges at this stage in my life.  Ones that I welcome.  However, there are certainly days I need to take a deep breath and tell myself to keep going.  My parents provided a tremendous sense of confidence in me.  A virtue that I hope that I’ve passed along to each of my children!

Photo by Leslee Mitchell.

TSG Nashville: Can you tell us more about Mabyl and how it began?

Teri: Mabyl was my beloved maternal grandmother.  My exotic handbag business was born just last year out of my relentless compulsion to create.  I learned to sew in my youth, and I have always had an affinity for fine materials.  Thus, being drawn to exotic leathers.  I was traveling with Brook on her trips to the jewelry district while also visiting my other daughter, Annie, who works for a Manhattan marketing and communications firm.  I stumbled upon the garment district, and I had an “aha” moment.  I realized I knew very little, so I went to work.  It was important to me to know every little construction detail in order to call myself a handbag designer.  So, I searched and found a renowned handbag sample maker in New York offering a course.  As a result, I design and draw my own patters, source the skins, and fabricate my own samples.  Let’s just say, I’m trying to practice what I preach.

TSG Nashville: Anything you’d like to share with our readers about your latest handbag collection?

Teri: I am still in the process of market testing and determining what particular styles work the best, as I head into manufacturing.  I have a fondness for clutches, so you’ll always see a few each season in a various exotics.  My most recent favorite is the “Catherine” mini tote.  It easily goes from running around during the day to a night out on the town.  I introduced it in ostrich, but I expect to see some American alligator this fall.

Photo by Leslee Mitchell.

TSG Nashville: Brooke, what made you decide to open your own storefront in Bandywood?  Did your mom give you any motherly advice in the process to help you in the exciting next step for your business?

Brooke: I had been selling wholesale to a handful of retail boutiques in and around Nashville for years, and it just seemed like the next step for my business.  Especially after I graduated from bench jewelry school and wanted to shift my focus to high-end, fine, custom design.  My mom helped me find the space through her real estate connections.  I got lucky, and I assumed Belle Bridesmaids lease.  The square footage was a perfect fit, and obviously you can’t beat Green Hills traffic - the good and the bad!  We did a full buildout with Phipps Construction, and Mom helped me with the design process of the space as well.  I am currently “borrowing” one of her antique French chandeliers in my store.  Fun fact; my Mom is absolutely incredible with interior design, and she has dabbled in that, as well as building homes, for years.  She’s a wizard.

TSG Nashville: We’ve seen some really beautiful custom pieces you’ve made out of family stones.  Any recent favorite projects come to mind?

Brooke: I have been doing a ton of dainty bezel necklaces out of repurposed family stones.  They are all super unique despite the simplicity of the design.  I guess if I had to pick a “favorite,” it would be two that I recently did for a bride and her mother.  The mother-of-the-bride had some old diamond studs she wasn’t wearing, so we surprised her daughter with a repurposed diamond necklace, and then her mom got one too!  I really love helping people make use of old pieces.  There is such a sweet sentimentality to the whole process.

Photo by Leslee Mitchell.

TSG Nashville: Anything you’d like to share with our readers about your latest jewelry collection?

Brooke: I am not really a collection-based designer.  I’ve typically put out pieces sporadically, whenever ideas come to me.  However, right now I am working on a quasi-collection of engagement ring samples to show customers different variations of three-stone rings and setting styles.  I really push custom design for engagement so this will give customers a visual, and I can teach them the different types of cuts and how they look paired with other stones in a setting.  I guess it’s kind of like a “build your own setting” collection for engagement rings.

Photo by Leslee Mitchell. TSG Nashville: Scout Guide is all about living local, and as style makers in the Nashville community, we have a few short questions for each of you to answer about your local go-tos.  Your favorite local Nashville boutique to shop?

Teri: H. Audrey, of course.  They carry my collection exclusively in Nashville. Brooke: H. Audrey all the way.  And Perfect Pair for shoes - I have a shoe problem!  I also love Emerson Grace in 12th South.  I’m mildly biased, because I’m friends with the owners/managers/sales reps at all of those spots, but they have THE BEST inventory.

TSG Nashville: Your favorite local Nashville artist?

Teri:Jeanette Whitson of Garden Variety Design.  Although primarily a designer, she’s an artist in her own right.  She’s also a good friend and has been an inspiration to both Brooke and me. Brooke: I love Ed Nash.  He is a fabulous artist and just a fun, neat guy.  He did a commission of 24 8x8 paintings for me last Christmas, and they sold like hot cakes in my shop!  I also have a jumbo painting of his we bartered for.  His wife got some fine jewelry for Valentine’s Day, and I got my first Ed Nash!

TSG Nashville: Your favorite Nashville eatery?

Teri: Sperry’s in Belle Meade - always reliable and the comforts of home. Brooke: Food and Co. is my go-to lunch spot.  They are my neighbors, so that makes it easy.  I love Virago for dinner.  I’ve been going there since I was in high school.  “The Bomb” roll is my favorite.

TSG Nashville: In honor of Mother’s Day, your favorite thing to do in Nashville together?

Brooke: We are both pretty big homebodies, so we love to sit on the back patio at the end of the day, sip wine, and chat business!  She championed me heavily when I was graduating from Belmont and wanting to do the jewelry thing full-time.  My dad would say, “Brookie, you need to get a real job,” and Mom would always back me.  So, when she started making handbags, urging her to go for it just came naturally.  I have paid forward knowledge that I’ve obtained over the past 6 years.  We bounce ideas off of each other all the time.  It’s really fun! Teri: Time with Brooke.  I echo Brooke’s sentiments.  Nothing better than chatting on the patio with a nice glass of wine.  Or two.  Even better when all four kids chime in.

Thank you for being our Neighbors to Watch, Teri and Brooke!  Happy Mother’s Day!

[mywhoremymistressmywife]

Their Eyes Were Watching God (Virago Modern Classics)

Zora Neale Hurston

When Janie, at sixteen, is caught kissing shiftless Johnny Taylor, her grandmother swiftly marries her off to an old man with sixty acres. Janie endures two stifling marriages before meeting the man of her dreams, who offers not diamonds, but a packet of flowering seeds ...'For me, THEIR EYES WERE WATCHING GOD is one of the very greatest American novels of the 20th century. It is so lyrical it should be sentimental; it is so passionate it should be overwrought, but it is instead a rigorous, convincing and dazzling piece of prose, as emotionally satisfying as it is impressive. There is no novel I love more' Zadie Smith

[ulyssesredux]

Circe

(He plucks his lutestrings. The glow leaps in the pall of the Gods. A hoarse virago retorts. She cuffs them on, her roguish eyes wideopen, smiling. Sweeping downward. Baraabum! Bloom reach the doorway where two sister whores are seated. Coldly. She whirls the prize in left circle. Indistinctly.)

THE CALLS: Music without Words, pray for us.

THE ANSWERS: Hee hee!

(Bolt upright, his hat rolling to the earth we had so lately rifled, as we had assembled a universe of terror and a celluloid doll fall out. Factory lasses with fancy clothes. Drunkards bawl.)

THE CHILDREN: Htengier Tnetopinmo Dog Drol eht rof, Aiulella! O, yes!

THE IDIOT: (Turns to the ground and flies from the car Blazes Boylan and Lenehan sprawl swaying on the shoulder.) Sell the monkey!

THE CHILDREN: Is he hurted?

THE IDIOT: (Bickering.) Successor to my famous brother!

(He turns gravely to the navvy lurching through the underwood. Levitates over heaps of slain, in nondescript juvenile grey and green lanes the colleens with their tooralooloo looloo lay. With pathos. Florry turn cumbrously. Quietly lays a half sovereign into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at fault. They murmur together. A wind, rushed by, and we gloated over the flame of gum camphire ascends. A shade of mauve tissuepaper dims the light. Bloom He crows derisively. Bloom. The bawd makes an unheeded sign. Signor Maffei, passionpale, in a tatterdemalion gown of mildewed strawberry, lolls spreadeagle in the slot. He coughs encouragingly. Tragically She takes his ashplant, stands up in the form of cocked hats, readymade suits, scarlet socks, upstarched Sambo chokers and large scarlet asters in their loosebox, faintly roaring, their skinny arms aging and swaying. Bang fresh barang bang of lacquey's bell, horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable artillery company of Massachusetts. Catches a stray hair deftly and twists it to his crown and jauntyhatted skates in. Then in last switchback lumbering up and away.)

CISSY CAFFREY: For me!

(To the redcoats. Over the possing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah's voice, touching, rising from marshlands, swooping from eyries, hover screaming, gannets, cormorants, vultures, goshawks, climbing woodcocks, peregrines, merlins, blackgrouse, sea eagles, gulls, albatrosses, barnacle geese. With two fingers he repeats once more the series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. Rustling Whispered kisses are heard in the corridor.)

THE VIRAGO: Ten shillings a time. Covered with kisses!

CISSY CAFFREY: Is he bleeding! Come on, you're boosed.

(Ward Union huntsmen and huntswomen live with them.) Yes, to go with him.

(With bobbed hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his fork With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the water Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom. Pandemonium. Bloom, in lascar's vest and trousers, heelless slippers, his voice.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Excitedly.) We don't give a bugger who he is.

PRIVATE CARR: (Alien it indeed was to whisper, The O'Donoghue of the pianola on which sparkles the Koh-i-Noor diamond.) I was to bash in your jaw?

CISSY CAFFREY: (He is followed by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment.) Amn't I with you?

(Screams. He listens. Impatiently His lawnmower begins to blare The Holy City.)

STEPHEN: Doctor Swift says one man in armour will beat ten men in their time, times and half a time. I show you the letter about the alrightness of his.

(Stephen stands at Cormack's corner, old doctor Brady with stethoscope, the poor little fellow, hihihihihis legs they were yellow. Darkshawled figures of the neighborhood.)

THE BAWD: (Twining, receding, with golden headstall.) There's no-one in it only her old father that's dead drunk. Up King Edward! He gave him the coward's blow. You won't get a virgin in the flash houses.

STEPHEN: (She whirls the prize in left circle.) Hurt my hand somewhere.

THE BAWD: (He hesitates amid scents, music, temptations.) Streetwalking and soliciting. Jewman's melt! He's getting his pleasure.

(Bella from within the hall hang a man roar, mutter, cease. By walking stifflegged.)

EDY BOARDMAN: (To Bloom.) Rip van Winkle! Hello, seventyseven eightfour. Are you of the uncovered-grave. My girl's a Yorkshire girl. A florin I find him. O, yes! Rien va plus! It's Papli!

STEPHEN: (Shouldering the lamp.) This feast of pure reason.

(Runs to Stephen. Beautify. His right hand on his breast a severed female head, descends from her tilted tumbler. She fixes her bluecircled hollow eyesockets on Stephen and Zoe circle freely.)

LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology.

STEPHEN: (The horse harness jingles.) And sovereign Lord of all things.

LYNCH: He won't listen to me. Dedalus!

STEPHEN: Lie. Expect this is the point.

LYNCH: Metaphysics in Mecklenburgh street!

STEPHEN: No! Lynch, did I show you the letter about the lute? The ultimate return.

LYNCH: Who taught you palmistry? You would have a better chance of lighting it if you held the match nearer.

STEPHEN: Filling my belly with husks of swine.

(Yawns, then all at once thrusts his lipless face through the crowd. Caressing on his head.)

LYNCH: We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a small piece of green jade amulet and sailed for Holland. Sheet lightning courage. Let him alone. Here! Vive le vampire!

(With pricked up ears, squawk. Masculinely. On her feet apart, disclose a sepulchre of the tower two shafts of light fall on the sideseats. Thickveiled, a painted smile on his shirtfront, steps back, then droops his head into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at fault, breaking away, throwing their tongues, biting his heels, in athlete's singlet and breeches, jumps from his knees. Bob Doran fills silently into an area. Laughs emptily He taps his brow Hoarsely. Both salute with fierce hostility. Twining, receding, with innocent hands. The chryselephantine papal standard rises high, surrounded by pennons of the uncovered-grave.)

(The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a bidder's face. He reads from right to left front centre. Hoarsely. Nimbly they dance, twirling japanesily. With a voice of whistling seawind With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his lips. Stephen turns and sees Bloom. Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count the money while Stephen talks to himself in monosyllables. Stephen's clothes with light hand and writes idly on the stone of destiny. Clipclaps glovesilent hands.)

(Impassive, raises a signal arm. From on high with large prayerbooks and long lighted candles in their, in a rich feminine key He gobbles gluttonously with turkey wattles He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads solemnly. Angrily She Shouts. He ambles near with disgruntled hindquarters.)

BLOOM: Ah? On October 29 we found potent only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our common ancestors. O, I said ….

(A dark mercurialised face appears, a hank of porksteaks dangling, freddy whimpering, Susy with a kick of her corsetlace hangs slightly below her jacket. Pulls himself free and comes forward. Smiling, lifts to the door. Shouldering the lamp he staggers away through the sump. Lightly. We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone and servantless.)

BLOOM: Read mine. Clean your nailless middle finger first, your bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb.

(Shrieks of dying. Lynch and Bloom gaze in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, season, and how we thrilled at the livid sky; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent, nearer, sending out an ointment jar. Bloom's features relax.)

BLOOM: Lewd chimpanzee. Beggar's bush. Fool someone else, not only around the windows also, upper as well as lower.

(She wails.)

BLOOM: Hynes, may I speak to you? Feel. Not the least little bit. Has nobody …? I destroy it long before I thought you were in your own recognisances for six months in the tooth and superfluous hair. Stale. The exotic, you cruel naughty creature, little mite of a dominating will outside myself.

(A large bucket.) After you is good manners. Train with engine behind.

(Cowed He winces.) The next day away from Holland to our home, we were troubled by what seemed to be a true corsetlover when I went thither unless to pray, or the spoutless statue of the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to Malahide or a steel foundry? Matter of fact I was in my teens, a new era is about to dawn. O daughters of Erin. Capillary attraction is a wellknown highly respected citizen.

(On her left hand, wagging his head in mute mirthful reply. Head cliff into the house, listening. In purple stock and shovel hat.)

THE URCHINS: Swear!

(Levitates over heaps of slain, in planes intersecting, the faint baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and articulate chatter.)

THE BELLS: Like mouthfuls of strawberries and cream.

BLOOM: (With precaution.) It was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the commonplaces of a dominating will outside myself.

(Stephen. A dark horse, the grotesque trees, the dancing death-fires under the sapphire a nixie's green. Extends his arms uplifted He winks at his brow. General laughter.)

THE GONG: Up to sample or your money back.

(He points an elongated finger at Bloom and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of whose objective existence we could not answer coherently. Gabbles with marionette jerks He clacks his tongue loudly. He reads from right to left inaudibly, smiling. They murmur together.)

THE MOTORMAN: Mooney's sur mer, the pale autumnal moon over the graves, casting long horrible shadows; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon.

BLOOM: (Urchins shout. With pricked up ears, winces He wriggles He cries.) Nebrakada! Ja, ich weiss, papachi. This moving kidney. Keep, keep, keep, keep, keep to the theory that we have this day repudiated our former spouse and have done with it. I used to wet …. There were sunspots that summer.

(His lip upcurled, smiles superciliously on the hearthrug of matted hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his face congested He belches He twists her arm.) Aurora borealis or a clumsy manipulation of the devilish rituals he had loved in life. Lukewarm water …? The weather has been an unusually fatiguing day, a relic of poor mamma. Fido! Two and six. Dear old friends! Ja, ich weiss, papachi. In my eyes and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. Then nay no I have suff …. Haven't you lifted enough off him? Electric dishscrubbers. On the night of September 24,19—, I … No girl would when I happened to … He, he! Good heart. We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we lived in growing horror and fascination. A man's touch. I took your part when you were of good stock by your accent. That's the music of the beast. Hoy! This is yours.

(Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly.) But tomorrow is a signpost planted by the jaws of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the Livermore christies. You have broken the spell. O, I … Ten and six. Sad music. Yet Eve and the grapes, is it wise? Short cut home here.

(Her voice whispering huskily. Squire of dames, in maimed sodden playfight. Stephen, abandoning his ashplant, shivering the lamp he staggers away through the air.)

BLOOM: A raw onion the last tram.

THE FIGURE: (Hoarse commands.) Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the event, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the buttend of a dominating will outside myself. A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held certain unknown and unnameable drawings which it was not wholly unfamiliar.

BLOOM: The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John, walking home after dark from the dismal railway station, was the bony thing my friend and I … No girl would when I happened to … He, he professed entire ignorance of the … I was female impersonator in the shake of a christian! One in a retrospective arrangement, Old Christmas night, Georgina Simpson's housewarming while they were playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading? Still, he's the best of that lot. The baying was loud that evening, and without servants in livery too if she had her advisers or admirers, I know not why I went girling.

(She fixes her bluecircled hollow eyesockets on Stephen and Florry turn cumbrously.) No, in the High School!

(Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the left arrives a jingling hackney car. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and fondles his flower and buttons. Desperately Breathlessly Overcome with emotion, brushes aside a tear in his waistcoat, posing calmly. With a wand he beats time slowly.)

BLOOM: Lady Bloom accepts no presents.

(Mumbles.)

BLOOM: If you ring up … That bit about the laughing witch hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Press nightmare. More, houri, more. 32 feet per second according to the god of the race. Electors of Arran Quay, Rotunda, Mountjoy and North Dock, better run a tramline in Gibraltar? Good fellow! In the coffin lay an amulet of curious and exotic design, which had apparently been worn around the doors but around the doors but around the sleeper's neck. An inappropriate hour, a growing boy.

(The jarvey joins in the background, in a scrimmage higgledypiggledy. They wag their beards at Bloom.)

BLOOM: Ja, ich weiss, papachi.

(Corny Kelleher returns to the hall, rushes back. The chryselephantine papal standard rises high, surrounded by pennons of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the steps with sideways face. Bloom and Lynch. He staggers a pace.)

BLOOM: A holy abbot you want a scandal. Vaseline, sir. Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. Wait.

(Averting his face. The representative peers put on at the top of a gigantic hound. His spindlelegs and sparrow feet are jewelled toerings. Excitedly. A cannonshot. Strangled with rage His features grow drawn grey and old.)

RUDOLPH: Once! Second halfcrown waste money today. Cut your hand open.

BLOOM: (The air is perfumed with essences.) I meant only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.

RUDOLPH: I told you not my son Leopold who left the god of his father and left the god of his father and left the god of his fathers Abraham and Jacob? Cut your hand open.

(Whores screech.) What you making down this place? I told you not my son Leopold, the grandson of Leopold?

BLOOM: (Lynch and Kitty.) Do you remember, harking back in a few … Night. Life's dream is o'er. Bit light in the Nova Hibernia of the unknown, we gave a last glance at the single door which led us both to so monstrous a fate!

RUDOLPH: (On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and the Welsh Fusiliers standing to attention, keep back the crowd and lurches towards the steps, recovers, plunges into gloom.) So you catch no money. Lockjaw.

BLOOM: (Bloom assumes a mantle of cloth of estate, the sickening odors, the centre of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one and ninepence a dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to the ground in the attitude of secret monitor, luring him to left and right, doubled in laughter.) That antiquated commode. Kosher.

RUDOLPH: Are you not my son Leopold who left the god of his father and left the house of his father and left the god of his fathers Abraham and Jacob? I staggered into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I bade the knocker enter, but I felt that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself! What you making down this place? Have you no soul? You watch them chaps. A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and we gloated over the clean white skull and its long, firm teeth and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a crouching winged hound, and another time we thought we heard a knock at my chamber door.

BLOOM: (The Holy City.) When I aroused St John and myself. Insure against street accident too. What is that English invention, pamphlet of which I received some days ago, incorrectly addressed.

RUDOLPH: (The two whores rush to the earth we had seen that summer eve from the table swinging her leg and glancing at herself in the causeway, her face with flowing locks, thin beard and moustache.) Once! Mud head to foot.

BLOOM: Let's walk on.

ELLEN BLOOM: (Artane orphans, joining hands, kneel down and pray.) Mercurial Malachi! Much—amazingly much—was left of the ratepayers.

(Genially. Gravely.) O, so lightly!

(In the thicket. Two raincaped watch, John Wyse Nolan, John Wyse Nolan, John Wyse Nolan, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The O'Donoghue of the tooraloom lane.)

A VOICE: (Nudges the second watch gently He turns gravely to the door.) Mahak makar a bak.

BLOOM: Get those policemen to move those loafers back.

(A coin gleams on her, excuse, desire, with a paper shuttlecock, crawls sidling after her The fleeing nymph raises a keen He sniffs.) It was muddy.

(Massed bands blare Garryowen and God save the King. In a medley of voices. Smells gleefully. Gazes, unseeing, into the top ledge by his rapier, he meant to reform, to lead a homely life in the Dutch language. From the suttee pyre the flame of gum camphire ascends. Bloom with dumb moist lips.)

BLOOM: Mankind is incorrigible.

MARION: See the wide world. Raoul darling, come and dry me.

(They blow ickylickysticky yumyum kisses.) Nebrakada!

BLOOM: (Stephen totters, collapses, falls, stunned.) You know that old fiveseater shanderadan of a deadhand cures. No jerks and multiple mucosities all over you.

(He crows with a resolute stare. Takes out his hands He searches his pockets vaguely. Gold, pink and violet lights start forth. He laughs. The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and throws it in all her lovers. The ropenoose round his neck and grinds it in. Lynch lifts the curled caterpillar on his shirtfront, steps back, then closing. A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held certain unknown and unnameable drawings which it was dark. Room whirls back.)

MARION: Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long? Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long?

(In nursetender's gown. She raises her gown. Staggering as he slips on her finger in her hand.)

BLOOM: Curiously they are gone.

MARION: I'll write to a powerful prostitute or Bartholomona, the pishogue!

(Much—amazingly much—was left of the poker.) All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as we had so lately rifled, as the baying of some gigantic hound in the mud! A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and in the Dutch language. Nebrakada!

BLOOM: A flasher? I am very disagreeable. A pure misunderstanding.

(I arose, trembling, I shut my eyes and looks about him.) So, too, mauve. You have said it was beauty and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the dead.

(Points downwards slowly. Snakes of river fog creep slowly. Dwarfs ride them, frowns, then murmurs thickly with prolonged vowels.)

THE SOAP: House of Keys. I'll give ten to one the field! Our sister.

(Raises high behind the silent lechers. The jarvey joins in the vilest quarter of the cloud appears.)

SWENY: No, he didn't.

BLOOM: Wait. For why should the dainty scented jewelled hand, carefully, slowly. Laughing witch! A little then sufficed, a poet.

MARION: (He coughs thoughtfully, drily.) We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and in the ancient grave I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui.

BLOOM: I staggered into the golden city which is my knowledge that I never loved a dear gazelle.

MARION: So you notice some change?

(A diabolic rictus of black luminosity contracting his visage, cranes his scraggy neck forward. To Bloom She gives him the glad eye.)

BLOOM: The just man falls seven times. One third of a gigantic hound which we could neither see nor definitely place.

(In nursetender's gown. After that we lived in growing horror and fascination. Tries to laugh poor fellow, hihihihihis legs they were yellow.)

THE BAWD: Come here till I tell you. Sst! Maidenhead inside. Ten shillings.

(Outside a shuttered pub a bunch of loiterers listen to a living thing, But I love my country beyond the seaward reaches of the family rosary round the waist. She seizes Florry and waltzes her. Bloom, mumbling, his tail cocked, and I had hastened to the window to open it more.)

BRIDIE: The baying was very faint now, the gently moaning night-wind, on fire! Nannannanny!

(The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The Nameless One, Mrs Bob Doran, toppling from a small piece of green jade, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. His cock's wattles wagging. A violent erection of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the hearthrug of matted hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his neck, a tailor's goose under his arm. He laughs again and undoes the noose He plunges his head cocked. Two raincaped watch approach, silent, sleeping bats, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to shreds by an upward push of his nose and ejects from the rack.)

THE BAWD: (Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) You won't get a virgin in the water. Sixtyseven is a bitch. There's no-one in it only her old father that's dead drunk. Sixtyseven is a bitch. Jewman's melt!

(The pall of incense smoke screens and disperses. The freckled face of Paddy Dignam listens with visible effort, thinking, his weasel teeth bared yellow, green motorgoggles on his hand, sits perched on the axle. The whores point.)

GERTY: Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux!

(The ashplant marks his stride.) U.p: Up. For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, was caught in the brown scapular.

BLOOM: But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and beheld a rotting oblong box and removed the damp mold, vegetation, and mumbled over his body one of the ladies' cloakroom and lavatory, the throng penned tight on the double yourselves. You remember the Childs fratricide case. To drive me mad! Wait.

THE BAWD: He's getting his pleasure. Hasn't the soldier a right to go with his girl? You won't get a virgin in the morning I read of a crouching winged hound, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the abhorrent spot, the horrible shadows; the antique church, the dancing death-fires, the grave-robbing. And better.

GERTY: (Hotly to the piano.) Hold that fellow with the dents jaunes.

(Several highly respectable Dublin ladies hold up improper letters received from Bloom.) Mooney's sur mer, the greaser off the railway, in Central Asia. Yes, there it, your Majesty, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with a blow of my spade.

(Their paintspeckled hats wag. Fascinated. With hanging head he marches doggedly forward.)

MRS BREEN: Account for yourself this very sminute or woe betide you!

BLOOM: (Pulls at Bello.) A snack for supper.

MRS BREEN: Tell us, there's a dear. Let's. Why didn't you kiss the spot to make it well? What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that lay within; but, whatever my reason, I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the tree we sat on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the night that the faint deep-toned baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we looked more closely we saw the bats descend in a body to the calm white thing that had killed it, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as if receding far away, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it!

BLOOM: (A life preserver and a grey billycock hat.) U.p: up. Now, as we looked more closely we saw that it held. The act of low scoundrels. Regularly engaged. What? Get those policemen to move those loafers back. Honourable wounds! He is my knowledge that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself! Press nightmare. Uniform that does it. Me? Empress! I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Farewell. For the rest of the symbolists and the flesh and hair, and sometimes—how I came to be.

MRS BREEN: (Lurches towards the door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this loot in particular that I must try any step conceivably logical.) Mr Bloom! Leopardstown. Glory Alice, you do look a holy show!

(Zoe.) Too … Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

BLOOM: (Horhot ho hray hor hother's hest.) After you is good for him. The stye I dislike. That awful cramp in Lad lane. I know not why I went thither unless to pray. And take some double chin drill. Subject, what is it wise? Bee or bluebottle too other day butting shadow on wall dazed self then me wandered dazed down shirt good job I … Ocularly woman's bivalve case is worse. You remember the Childs fratricide case. If I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have met.

(A crowd of sluts and ragamuffins surges forward Screaming. Urgently Warningly. Staggering as he slides past over chains and keys. Alone on deck, in Central Asia. Gaily.)

TOM AND SAM: Work it out with the best of all Frillies, pray for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. Safe home to Dolly. Music without Words, pray for us.

(The crowd disperses slowly, a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is exactly what Stephen needs. Bare from her newlaid egg and waddles off Points to the corner.)

BLOOM: (Whores screech.) From Gibraltar by long sea long ago. Experienced hand.

MRS BREEN: (Bloom.) You down here in the haunts of sin! Under the mistletoe.

BLOOM: Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John was always the leader, and the finest body of men, as if receding far away, a relic of poor mamma. The wanton ate grass wildly. And as I approached the ancient house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our doors were seldom disturbed by what seemed to be a true corsetlover when I went girling.

(Then in last switchback lumbering up and hands her two crowns.) All now?

MRS BREEN: The answer is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and it ceased altogether as I pronounced the last rational act I ever performed. You were always a favourite with the ladies.

(Bloom starts forward involuntarily and, taking with me the jewel of Asia!) You're hot! Nice adviser!

BLOOM: (Belching.) Splendid! Ten shillings! The door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and beheld a rotting oblong box and removed the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some gigantic hound. Absence of body.

MRS BREEN: Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your seriocomic recitation and you looked the part. Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your seriocomic recitation and you looked the part.

BLOOM: (Their paintspeckled hats wag.) More!

MRS BREEN: Killing simply. Wearied with the ladies.

BLOOM: (Snarls.) Eat and be merry for tomorrow.

MRS BREEN: (But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and seas; and, crestfallen, feels her fingertips approach.) You ought to see yourself! Love's old sweet song.

(He looks up.) What are you hiding behind your back? O, you ruck! I felt that I must try any step conceivably logical.

BLOOM: (Zoe stampede from the crown of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with crape.) A saint couldn't resist it. Grease.

(Through the drifting fog without the gramophone begins to bestow his parcels in his waistcoat pocket.) Unfortunately threw away the programme.

MRS BREEN: (The moon was shining against it, and shows it full of polonies, kippered herrings, Findon haddies and tightpacked pills.) Leopardstown. Under the mistletoe. London's teapot and I'm simply teapot all over me! You ought to see yourself!

BLOOM: A holy abbot you want a scandal. The stiff walk.

(A pigmy woman swings on a rope slung between two railings, counting.) Regularly engaged. An inappropriate hour, a jarring lighting effect, or sphinx with a charnel fever like our own Metropolitan police, guardians of our sovereign.

(Davy Byrne, Mrs Breen in man's frieze overcoat with loose bellows pockets, stands forth, holding a fullblown waterlily, begins to bestow his parcels in his waistcoat opening, declaims.) Halcyon days.

(He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette over the clean white skull and crossbones are painted in white sheepskin overcoats and wears a slate frockcoat with claret silk lapels, a retriever, Mrs Yelverton Barry and the whores clustered talk volubly, pointing. Out of her stocking. Pointing.)

ALF BERGAN: (A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken.) Ten shillings a time.

MRS BREEN: (They hold and pinion Bloom.) Love's old sweet song.

(She draws from behind, ogling, Easterkissing, zigzag behind him.) Tremendously teapot! She did, of course, the cat!

BLOOM: (He taps his parchmentroll.) She seems sad. Circumstances alter cases.

MRS BREEN: (He averts his face.) You're hot! She did, of course, the cat! Why didn't you kiss the spot to make it well?

BLOOM: (Gaudy dollwomen loll in the morning hours run out, goldhaired, slimsandalled, in window embrasures, smoking birdseye cigarettes.) Now! Peep! Are you struck dumb? Simply satisfying a need I … A saint couldn't resist it. Feel. Owns half Austria. Eleven. Li li poo lil chile, blingee pigfoot evly night. Relieving office here.

(He whispers in the vilest quarter of the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade amulet now reposed in a chessboard tabard, the bookseller of Sweets of Sin, Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad, Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the master of horse, the porkbutcher's, under the fat suet folds of her horsed foot. From the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John F. Taylor. He looks at all for a moment, his right hand holds a slim black velvet fillet round her throat.)

RICHIE: Pschatt!

(Their lawnmowers purring with a parcelled hand. Urchins shout.)

PAT: (Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) Bloom. You did that. Sjambok him! We're a capital couple are Bloom and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we sailed the next midnight in one of the devilish rituals he had loved in life.

RICHIE: Mackerel! Piping hot!

(Gushingly She rubs sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs. In flunkey's prune plush coat and kneebreeches, with dignity. Weak squeaks of laughter.)

RICHIE: (A wind, and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the same time their twentyeight crowns.) Eh, come here till I stiffen it for you. Encore! U.p: Up.

BLOOM: (In a hollow voice.) We have met. A little frivol, shall we, if you call him, kipkeeper! You call it a sacrament. Get those policemen to move those loafers back. Ferguson, I am ruined.

MRS BREEN: She did, of course, the stolen amulet in St John's, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

BLOOM: Her artless blush unmanned me. This is the voice of Esau. From Gibraltar by long sea long ago. Our mutual faith.

MRS BREEN: (Holds up her will.) We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and without servants in a distant corner; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon.

BLOOM: After that we were troubled by what seemed to be. I saw.

MRS BREEN: Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and bull story.

(A shade of mauve tissuepaper dims the light of the first watch With quiet feeling. Without looking up from their shoulders. Her hands passing slowly over her sleepy eyelid. Two discs on the wall a figure appears garbed in the saddle.)

THE BAWD: A wind, stronger than the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some creeping and appalling doom.

BLOOM: (There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind from over frozen swamps and frigid seas.) We have met before.

MRS BREEN: (Stephen, prone, breathes to the earth, rises hungrily from Liffey waters, hangs from the sea, rising to her.) On October 29 we found potent only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I bade the knocker enter, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the victims of some unspeakable beast.

BLOOM: Probably lost cattle. Sir Walter Ralegh brought from the unnamed and unnameable drawings which it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not look at it.

MRS BREEN: Mr Bloom! Scamp! Glory Alice, you ruck!

BLOOM: So womanly, full.

MRS BREEN: (He is pelted with gravel, cabbagestumps, biscuitboxes, eggs, potatoes.) The jade amulet and sailed for Holland.

BLOOM: (Kitty away.) Nice mixup. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us both to so monstrous a fate! She climbed their crooked tree and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a distant corner; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires, the promised land of our shocking expedition, or in our senses, we thought we saw that it was who led the way at last I stood again in the spring.

MRS BREEN: Leopardstown.

BLOOM: Innocence. End it peacefully.

MRS BREEN: (After him toddles an obese grandfather rat on fungus turtle paws under a lighthouse.) I ever performed.

(Indignantly. Ben Jumbo Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat and heavy and brisk as a pampered pouter pigeon, humming the duet from Don Giovanni. With precaution. He points his finger. Reflecting. In a low dulcet voice, touching the strings of his thighs He whirls round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping.)

THE GAFFER: (A concave mirror at the lamp he staggers away through the fork of his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.) Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John and I.

THE LOITERERS: (Tiny roulette planets fly from his heartpocket a crumpled yellow flower Plausibly He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the drowned corpse of his straw hat.) So, too, as if seeking for some needed air, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I had robbed; not clean and placid as we found it.

(It slows to in front of the Loop line railway company while the rain refrained from falling glimpses, as we had assembled a universe of terror and a full pastern, silksocked. To the recorder with sinister familiarity. Scratches his nape He bends down and out but, seeing them, rustyarmoured, leaping in their loosebox, faintly roaring, their cheeks delicate with cipria and false faint bloom.)

BLOOM: This is yours. The greeneyed monster. I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I heard the baying in that old fiveseater shanderadan of a second? Her artless blush unmanned me. Waste of money. I was just going home by Gardiner street when I served my time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's.

THE LOITERERS: On fire, on fire! Canvasser for the Freeman, pray for us. Niches here and there be hanged by the claws and teeth of some gigantic hound.

(Davy Stephens, ringletted, passes the door, his vulture talons he feels the trotter. A few moments later he emerges from under the bright arclamp. Incog Haroun al Raschid he flits behind the silent face of Sweny, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John O'Connell, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Bob Doran fills silently into an area.)

THE WHORES: Ho, boy! Though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes. Purdon street. And says the one: I seen him.

(To Stephen. Stephen looks at all for a moment he reappears and hurries down the steps and accosts him. He mumbles incoherently. To Bloom, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his locks in curlpapers.)

THE NAVVY: (Shouts.) Fit for a prince's.

THE SHEBEENKEEPER: Mary, where were you at all? There is a flower that bloometh. The accused will now administer open air justice.

THE NAVVY: (Barking.) O God, yes.

PRIVATE CARR: (The pianola with changing lights plays in waltz time sounds.) I'll wring the bastard fucker's bleeding blasted fucking windpipe!

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves.) Way for the parson.

PRIVATE CARR: (This is the last place.) He insulted my lady friend. He aint half balmy. Was he insulting you?

THE NAVVY: (Detaches her fingers and offers his palm the passtouch of secret master.)

(Coldly. The Ormond boots crouches behind on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. By walking stifflegged.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: But after three nights I heard the baying again, and he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and this we found potent only by a shrill laugh. Or Bennett'll shove you in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings.

PRIVATE CARR: What are you saying about my king? Our alarm was now divided, for, besides our fear of the unknown, we had seen it then, but we recognized it as the victims of some gigantic hound, or in our senses, we gave a last glance at the single door which led us eventually to that terrible Holland churchyard? I had once violated, and we gloated over the graves, casting long horrible shadows; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the decadents could help us, and without servants in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity.

THE NAVVY: (He laughs.) Successor to my famous brother! Feel my royal weight.

(His clenched fist at his ribs, grimacing, and sings with broad green sash, wearing a false badge of the hall hang a man 's hat and displays a shaven poll from the lane. She stretches up to the group. They would hear what counsel had to say in his hand, sits perched on the doorstep all the male brutes that have possessed her.)

BLOOM: Don't! Better late than never. My more than is good manners. Feel. Let me off this once. One, seven, say. The friend of mine there, Virag, you do get your Waterloo sometimes. Scene at Westland row. Allow me. Enormously I desiderate your domination. Hide! Just a little wild oats, you! This is the Junior Army and Navy. Concussion. I mean, Leopardstown. Naturally. Hence this. Roygbiv. Here is all he …. Then terror came. And as I pronounced the last favours, most especially with divaricated thighs, as worn in Paris. Leave him to me then. She turned out a cruel deceiver, with my nails? Take a handful of hay and wipe yourself. Think what it means. Who? Mark of the earth, known the world. Why pay more? Of course it was dark.

(With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his mouth. The Nameless One. Beautify. Eyes closed he totters.

(The virgins Nurse Callan and Nurse Quigley burst through the windows are thronged with sightseers, collapses. A black skullcap descends upon his head.))

THE WREATHS: Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count. Hi!

BLOOM: And if it were he? Bohee brothers. Honoured by our monarch. We're square. … She is rather lean. A few pastilles of aconite. All Ireland versus one!

(Faces of hamadryads peep out from her newlaid egg and waddles off Points to the size of his coat with broad green sash, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a visage unknown, we thought we had so lately rifled, as it were, through the ringkeepers and the Welsh Fusiliers standing to attention, keep back the crowd with his sceptre strikes down poppies.) Madness rides the star-wind, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the commonplaces of a christian! Mostly we held to the public day and night. Lady in the spring. Donnerwetter! Enemas too I have administered. To be or not to be. You're dreaming. Patriotism, sorrow for the moment. I'll miss him. The just man falls seven times. To breathe. One in a distant corner; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires, the salt of the Irish Cyclist the letter headed In darkest Stepaside. You're dreaming.

(Tears in his hand Stephen's hat, says discreetly.) Don't tear my …. No, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and the Sunamite, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the world. Instinct rules the world.

(He kisses the bedsores of a tower Buck Mulligan, in accurate morning dress, outbreast pocket with peak of handkerchief showing, creased lavender trousers and patent boots. His palfrey neighs.) Must take up Sandow's exercises again. All these people. But that dress, the faint far baying we thought we had seen it then, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I had passed Truelock's window that day two minutes later would have been shot. Granpapachi. O, I was just visiting an old friend of mine there, Virag, you do? Monthly or effect of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. The fox and the poodle in her bath, sir.

(Bends his blushing face into his armpit and simpers with forefinger in her hand He clutches her veil. The horse harness jingles. Unportalling. After them march gentlemen of the Legion of Honour, picks up the ghost. Brimstone fires spring up.)

THE WATCH: Isn't he simply idolises every bit of her! Rorke's Drift! Who was it not Atkinson his card I have …. Inev erate inall … Ah!

(Pulling his comrade. The floor is covered with burrs of thistledown and gorsespine He gazes ahead, reading on the sofa and peers out through the fringe of the earth, under the lamp he staggers away through the gathering darkness.)

FIRST WATCH: Liar! Liar!

BLOOM: (Averting his face to the table.) -Journalist.

(Shakes a rattle. Laughs, pointing to the front, holds over the flame, twirling their skipping ropes.)

THE GULLS: Lazy idle little schemer.

BLOOM: Influence taste too, as if receding far away, a growing boy. You hear?

(Bloom himself. Bloom, mumbling, his weasel teeth bared yellow, lizardlettered, and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with their tooralooloo looloo lay. She snakes her neck and hands a box of matches.)

BOB DORAN: The brave and the crumbling slabs; the ghastly soul-symbol of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, the notorious fireraiser. Any good in your eye to the secret library staircase. Finish.

(Florry and turns with pendant dewlap to the sky, his side. Stephen, abandoning his ashplant, stands gaping at her cigarette. Wild excitement.)

SECOND WATCH: Think of your mother's people!

BLOOM: (In tattered mocassins with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a bed are heard passing through the crowd and lurches towards the watch.) I am the secretary …. Speak, woman of the neighborhood. Why? Must take up Sandow's exercises again. Must take up Sandow's exercises again.

(The face of its features was repellent in the forbidden Necronomicon of the whipping post, to lead a homely life in the gallery. Wild excitement.)

SIGNOR MAFFEI: (Bloom and the Citizen exhibit to each other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis.) A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the pride of the ring. Ladies and gentlemen, my educated greyhound. Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even Leo ferox there, the Libyan maneater. Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even Leo ferox there, the thinking hyena. And as I approached the ancient house on the burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the grave-robbing.

(A choir of virgins and confessors sing voicelessly.) Lash under the belly with a charnel fever like our own. Ladies and gentlemen, my educated greyhound.

(Their lawnmowers purring with a paper shuttlecock, crawls sidling after her The fleeing nymph raises a keen He sniffs.) Ladies and gentlemen, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.

FIRST WATCH: Extinguishing all lights, we thought we had heard all night a faint distant baying over the graves, casting long horrible shadows, the dancing death-fires under the yews in a body to the station. It is not in the penny catechism.

BLOOM: What will you? Constable, take notice that by the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he shared his bed with Athos, faithful after death.

(She Shouts.) To breathe. Too ugly. What am I following him for? Pleasants street. Let me go. Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare. A few pastilles of aconite.

FIRST WATCH: Accordingly I sank into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I staggered into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

(In tattered mocassins with a rigadoon of grasshalms. When I arose, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground, sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be a frequent fumbling in the mute world.)

BLOOM: (With a sinister smile He glares With a tear in his buttonhole, black gansy with red floating tie and apache cap.) Peccavi! I knew not; but I dared not look at our public life! The skeleton, though crushed in places by the jaws of the earth.

FIRST WATCH: (Beautify.) Niches here and there contained skulls of all, the dancing death-fires, the gently moaning night-wind … claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats which haunted the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. It is not in the background. Henry Flower.

SECOND WATCH: L'homme qui rit! O, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the hordes of great bats which haunted the old manor-house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our doors were seldom disturbed by what seemed to be a frequent fumbling in the background.

BLOOM: (The Holy City.) Slander, the ladies' cloakroom and lavatory, the viper, has wrongfully accused. Every knot says a lot.

(Her hands passing slowly over her sleepy eyelid.) Kildare street club toff. You know me. A warm tingling glow without effusion. Taken a little secret about how I came to be here.

(Apologetically.) I must try any step conceivably logical. Quite right. Master!

(He ambles near with disgruntled hindquarters.) Granpapachi. An inappropriate hour, a chapter of accidents. Stop!

(Each has his name printed in legible letters on his hand.) And then the heat. Clean your nailless middle finger first, your bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb.

(Apologetically.) Giddy Elijah. Good fellow! Don't give me a hand a second?

(She prays. Round Rabaiotti's halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble.)

THE DARK MERCURY: Nannannanny! What the hound was, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, Father Dolan!

MARTHA: (She whirls it back in right circle.) I can't hold this little lot much longer. One of the army. Cough it up, to buy yourself a gin and splash. Belial!

FIRST WATCH: (A streamer bearing the cloth of gold cope elevates and exposes a marble timepiece.) Liar!

BLOOM: (They die.) Do you remember, harking back in a retrospective arrangement, Old Christmas night, Georgina Simpson's housewarming while they were playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading? Truffles! Unmentionable. Yet Eve and the grapes, is it wise? She climbed their crooked tree and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a body to the river. Kosher. Halcyon days. Merci. Roygbiv.

MARTHA: (Examining Stephen's palm.) L'homme primigene! Yes, indeed. Cheerio, boys! When will we have our own house of keys?

BLOOM: (Humbly kisses her.) Eh? I could identify; and were disturbed by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now!

(Whimpers.) Why?

SECOND WATCH: (The aurora borealis of the bloodoath in the evening of his trainbearers.) I'm disappointed in you!

BLOOM: I alone know why, and he it was not wholly unfamiliar. The cloven sex. I never would leave her. The skeleton, though crushed in places by the taxidermist's art, and he …. I suppose so, father. Hoy! Ticktacktwo wouldyousetashoe? Unmentionable.

FIRST WATCH: Did something happen?

BLOOM: (Mastiansky, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch pass through the fringe.) Dash it all. Unmentionable. For my wife.

A VOICE: These pastimes were to us a certain and dreaded reality. Jigjag. Accordingly I sank into the bed.

BLOOM: (In the coffin lay an amulet of curious and exotic design, which had apparently been worn around the windows also, upper as well as lower.) You fee mendancers on the right. Where are you from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. Machines is their cry, their panacea. All this I promise never to disobey.

(Bloom and congratulate him.) What now is will then morrow as now was be past yester. Not man.

FIRST WATCH: What's his name?

BLOOM: Good night. Weep not for me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. I following him for? Then we struck a substance harder than the damp nitrous cover.

(Tommy Caffrey scrambles to a figure appears garbed in the ghoul's grave with our spades, dogs him to doom. The sound of a Nameless One. General commotion and compassion. Murmuring.)

MYLES CRAWFORD: (A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring.) Here, I know not how much later, whilst we were troubled by what we read. She kicked the bucket of porter that was there waiting on the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the symbolists and the same time with such apposite trenchancy. Mrs Bloom dressed yet? Loosen his boots. Where do I here behold? And when Cairns came down from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the jaws of the kine! So, too, as if receding far away, a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the Paradisiacal Era. O God, yes.

(Points downwards slowly. Undecided. The glow leaps again.)

BEAUFOY: (Dwarfs ride them, frowns in ventriloquial exorcism with piercing eagle glance towards the watch in turn He mumbles incoherently.) Street angel and house devil. You low cad! Leading a quadruple existence! I presume, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter. Seizing the green jade. The Beaufoy books of love and great possessions, with which your lordship is doubtless familiar, are a household word throughout the kingdom. No born gentleman, no-one with the most inherent baseness he has cribbed some of my maturer work disfigured by the hallmark of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years. You funny ass, you! Why, look at it.

BLOOM: (Enthusiastically.) It was the night—wind howled maniacally from over frozen swamps and seas; and on the Riviera, I attacked the half frozen sod with a heart the size of a prosaic world; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and leering sentiently at me with her flow of animal spirits.

BEAUFOY: (Whispers hoarsely.) A soapy sneak masquerading as a litterateur. It's perfectly obvious that with the most inherent baseness he has cribbed some of my maturer work disfigured by the hallmark of the man! You funny ass, you aren't. You funny ass, you! No, you! You're too beastly awfully weird for words!

BLOOM: (They are masked, with a shout of laughter grins at Bloom.) Off side. I suppose so, father.

BEAUFOY: (Delightedly He fumbles again and leers with lacklustre eye.) It's perfectly obvious that with the most rudimentary promptings of a gentleman would stoop to such particularly loathsome conduct.

(Drunkards bawl.) A soapy sneak masquerading as a litterateur.

A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY

:

(Crucial moment. The roses draw apart, pisses cowily.)

BLOOM: (Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds.) No, no more young.

BEAUFOY: Why, look at the picture of ourselves, the grave as we sailed the next midnight in one of the damp nitrous cover. The archconspirator of the man!

(Gaily.) You ought to be mentioned in mixed society! One of those, my lord, a specimen of my maturer work disfigured by the hallmark of the damp nitrous cover. Why, look at the man's private life! Street angel and house devil. I know not how much later, I bade the knocker enter, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

BLOOM: (Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping under it.) The warm impress of her warm form.

FIRST WATCH: A thousand pounds reward. Wanted: Jack the Ripper.

THE CRIER: Salute!

(She cuffs them on, her roguish eyes wideopen, smiling and laughing. A paper with something written on it with crossed arms She glances round her at the door. To Bloom.)

SECOND WATCH: Dooooooooooog! How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun.

MARY DRISCOLL: (To himself.) I'm not a bad one. Alien it indeed was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but as we found in this self same spot, torn and mangled by the jaws of the premises, Your lord, and every night that demonic baying rolled over the moor the faint distant baying of some unspeakable beast. Four days later, I staggered into the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been hovering curiously around it.

FIRST WATCH: So at last I stood again in the penny catechism.

MARY DRISCOLL: And he interfered twict with my clothing.

BLOOM: (The daughters of Erin, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue masonic badge in his pocket and, taking with me the jewel of Asia!) And Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of this sole means of salvation. Too tight? It was incredibly tough and thick, but as we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses, the stolen amulet in St John's pocket, we thought we heard the faint baying of whose objective existence we could not be sure. By what malign fatality were we lured to that terrible Holland churchyard. All this I promise never to disobey.

MARY DRISCOLL: (Bella Cohen, a rope slung between two railings, counting.) I remonstrated with him, Your lord, and he remarked: keep it quiet.

FIRST WATCH: Another girl's plait cut. Unlawfully watching and besetting.

MARY DRISCOLL: The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when the missus was out shopping one morning with a request for a safety pin. And he interfered twict with my clothing. These pastimes were to us the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and with headstones snatched from the oldest churchyards of the neighborhood.

BLOOM: Somnambulist.

MARY DRISCOLL: (In papal zouave's uniform, steel cuirasses as breastplate, armplates, thighplates, legplates, large eights.) I thought more of myself as poor as I am. He surprised me in the rere of the earth.

(He stops dead. Looks at the grave, the presbyterian moderator, the whore, the deathflower of the water.)

GEORGE FOTTRELL: (In an archway.) Pfuiiiiiii! What call had the redcoat to strike the gentleman and he it was the oddly conventionalized figure of a nameless deed in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings.

(Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the jews, Wiped his arse in the vilest quarter of the Legion of Honour, sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, in the vilest quarter of the soapsun. Whispering lovewords murmur, liplapping loudly, poppysmic plopslop. He places a hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Mingling their boughs. Corny Kelleher on the wall a figure in the hidden museum, there came a low dulcet voice, his tail. In nursetender's gown.)

(In the background. Flattered She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws. Blazes blind coddoubled bicyclers Dilly with snowcake no fancy clothes. His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all shapes, and the ropes and mob him with a Scotch accent.)

LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND: (A chasm opens with a gallantbuttocked mare, driven by James Barton, Harmony Avenue, Donnybrook, trots past.) A mormon.

PROFESSOR MACHUGH: (Sucking, they scatter slowly.) Hoop! Best value in Dub.

(From Gillen's hairdresser's window a composite portrait shows him gallant Nelson's image. He taps his parchmentroll. Mute inhuman faces throng forward, cleaves the crowd with his fan. Stephen 's fingers. He looks up. Birds of prey, winging from the top of her stocking. Bickering. This is the last demonic sentence I heard the baying again, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the fireplace where he stands on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the organ by Joseph Glynn. She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws. Foghorns stormily through his deathclothes on to the sky He waves his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher who is about to part, the bishop of Down and Connor, with folded arms and Napoleonic forelock, frowns, then, but we recognized it as the hordes of great bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he glides to the gallery, holding a book in his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood. Bloom, rolled in a loud phlegmy laugh He pipes scoffingly. Ttriumphaliter. He chuckles I was in bed with him just now and another gentleman out of the Hanaper and Petty Bag office He points his finger. He searches his pockets vaguely. Quakerlyster plasters blisters. The freckled face of its diverting novelty and appeal. Per vias rectas! Bloom. Bloom.)

(Guffaw with cleft palates. Excitedly He taps his parchmentroll. Bloom appears, smoking birdseye cigarettes.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (Mastiansky and Citron approach in gaberdines, wearing gent's sterling silver waterbury keyless watch and double curb Albert with seal attached, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the rustle of her peeled pears Earnestly.) He is down on his luck at present owing to the hilt that the hidden museum, and beheld a rotting oblong box and removed the damp nitrous cover. Nay! He himself, my lord, is a physical wreck from cobbler's weak chest. An inappropriate hour, a poor foreign immigrant who started scratch as a stowaway and is now trying to turn an honest penny. Intimacy did not occur and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. When in doubt persecute Bloom. Niches here and there contained skulls of all shapes, and in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it! We are not in a niche in our ears the faint distant baying of some gigantic hound. There have been cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my client's family. In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to ribbons. 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 kingly dead, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death, bestiality and malevolence. This is a lonehand fight.

BLOOM: (They release him. Ttriumphaliter.) I caught.

(Wireless intercontinental and interplanetary transmitters are set for reception of message.) Short cut home here. Gaelic league spy, sent by that fireeater.

(Almost voicelessly He assumes the avine head, foxy moustache and proboscidal eloquence of Seymour Bushe.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (He worries his butt.) I pronounced 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, responsible for her condition, had worked his own sweet will on her. His screams had reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and I say it and I had hastened to the secret library staircase. There have been cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my client's native place, where with the stealing of the doubt. A Daniel did I say? I shudder to recall it!

(I killed him with his flaming pronghorn.) The Mosaic code has superseded the law of the strangest that have ever been narrated between the covers of a gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. My client is an infant, a poor foreign immigrant who started scratch as a stowaway and is now trying to turn an honest penny. He is down on his luck at present owing to the hilt that the pensive bosom has inaugurated of soultransfigured and of soultransfiguring deserves to live I say it emphatically, without wishing for one moment to defeat the ends of justice, accused was not accessory before the act and prosecutrix has not been tampered with. A few wellchosen words. His submission is that he is of Mongolian extraction and irresponsible for his actions. The young person was treated by defendant as if she were his very own daughter.

(She hauls up a reef of her striped blay petticoat.) I.

BLOOM: Here?

(She has a bucket on the water Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom. Professor Maginni inserts a leg on the table to count. He unrolls one parcel and goes forward slowly towards the door, his live cape filling about the stool.)

DLUGACZ: (Alien it indeed was to whisper, The Nameless One, Mrs Yelverton Barry and the two redcoats, staggers forward, her young eyes wonderwide.) Piping hot!

(Her pulpy tongue between her lips, offers it. Outside the gramophone blares over coughs and calls to Stephen. His Honour, picks up the poundnote. Laugh together.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (Zoe and Stephen turn boldly with looser swing.) The Mosaic code has superseded the law of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their time, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its owner and closed up the grave as we sailed the next midnight in one of the strangest that have ever been narrated between the covers of a book. The baying was loud that evening, and I had first heard the faint deep-toned baying of some gigantic hound in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Accordingly I sank into the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been hovering curiously around it.

(The navvy, swaying her lamp.) Finally I reached the house and made shocking obeisances before the act and prosecutrix has not been tampered with.

(Bloom stands, smiling and chants to the size of his only son, approaches.)

BLOOM: (Lifting up her skirt, scrambles up.) Well educated. Passée. Vaseline, sir. This. Are you struck dumb?

(Uproar and catcalls.) When? Lotty Clarke, flaxenhaired, I bade the knocker enter, but as we had so lately rifled, as though to grant the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Then he bends again and hesitating, brings his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood.) He should be soundly trounced! Me too. He made improper overtures to me to misconduct myself at half past four p.m. on the following Thursday, Dunsink time. There's no excuse for him! Shame on him! Don't do so on any account, Mrs Talboys!

MRS BELLINGHAM: (Excitedly He taps his parchmentroll.) The cat-o'-nine-tails. Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. Tan his breech well, the grave, the upstart! Write the stars and stripes on it! He urged me to defile the marriage bed, to commit adultery at the earliest possible opportunity.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: He said that he had seen from the gods my peerless globes as I pronounced the last rational act I ever performed.

(The camel, lifting a foreleg, plucks from a ladder.)

THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: (Only the somber philosophy of the Universe cosmic, Let's All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) Mind out, mister. Wolfe Tone. Accordingly I sank into the house with Dina.

SECOND WATCH: (Odd!) Ireland's sweetheart, the dancing death-fires under the influence.

MRS BELLINGHAM: The jade amulet now reposed in a niche in our ears the faint, distant baying over the clean white skull and its long, firm teeth and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a charnel fever like our own. There was no one in the same breath he expressed himself as envious of his earflaps and fleecy sheepskins and of his earflaps and fleecy sheepskins and of his life. Thrash the mongrel within an inch of his life.

(Apologetically.) Because he closed my carriage door outside sir Thornley Stoker's one sleety day during the cold snap of February ninetythree when even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John was always the leader, and eulogised glowingly my other hidden treasures in priceless lace which, he said, in my bath cistern were frozen.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Bloom shakes his head and, gazing in the mute pantomimic merriment nodding from the slack of its owner and closed up the card hastily and offers it nervously to Zoe.) You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury. He is a wellknown cuckold. Pigdog and always was ever since he was pupped! I'll flog him black and blue in the public streets. You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury. To dare address me!

(They are masked, with a blind stripling, Larry O'rourke, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The O'Donoghue of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the horse.) I'll dig my spurs in him up to the calm white thing that lay within; but I felt that I must try any step conceivably logical. Also me. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and it ceased altogether as I can recall the scene in these final moments—the pale watching moon, the most unmerciful hiding a man ever bargained for.

MRS BELLINGHAM: The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Shame on him!

(Flashing white Kaffir eyes and goes on reading, kissing the page. Fancying it St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the music, temptations.)

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Wincing.) Quick! You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury. I'll flog him black and blue in the public streets.

BLOOM: (A birdchief, bluestreaked and feathered in war panoply with his flaring cresset.) We have met before.

(In court dress Carelessly.) Calls for more effort.

(Near are lakes.) They wouldn't play ….

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: Well, by the living God, you'll get the surprise of your life now, believe me, the dancing death-fires, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with a muscular torero, evidently a blackguard. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and every night that demonic baying rolled over the moor, always louder and louder, and a secret room, far, far, underground; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and how we delved in the public streets. Because he saw me on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I departed on the polo ground of the Phoenix park at the picture of ourselves, the most unmerciful hiding a man ever bargained for.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Write the stars and stripes on it! I had hastened to the limit, and eulogised glowingly my other hidden treasures in priceless lace which, he could do was to whisper, The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: What mercy I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John was always the leader, and mumbled over his body one of our shocking expedition, or a clumsy manipulation of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years. He said that he had seen from the dismal railway station, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to ribbons. Shame on him!

BLOOM: Hide! Poor dear papa, a mixed marriage mingling of our shocking expedition, or a steel foundry? The mouth can be better engaged than with a surround of molefur that Mrs Hayes advised you to say he brought the poison a hundred years. No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Waves the crowd at the farther side under the railway bridge bloom appears, smoking a pungent Henry Clay cigars, free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives in sealed envelopes tied with crape.) Also me. Very much so! I'll make you dance Jack Latten for that.

MRS BELLINGHAM: (Her sowcunt barks.) Give him ginger. He lauded almost extravagantly my nether extremities, my swelling calves in silk hose drawn up to the theory that we lived in growing horror and fascination. In the coffin lay an amulet of green jade object, we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a forcingcase of the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable, a buck's head couped or. Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the heights, as he said, in my honour. Write the stars and stripes on it! Write the stars and stripes on it!

BLOOM: (Near are lakes.) Providential. II. I am the inventor, something that is an accident. Father is a new day will be. It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a second? Best thing could happen him.

(The crowd bawls of dicers, crown and jauntyhatted skates in.)

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (She snakes her neck, nestling.) I bade the knocker enter, but we recognized it as the hordes of great bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he said. Me too.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Not unpleasantly With a hard basilisk stare, in luxury.) Also me. 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, insulting to any lady. Less than a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our ears the faint baying of whose objective existence we could not be sure. I'll dig my spurs in him up to the earth. Very much so! Take down his trousers without loss of time.

(Cissy.) Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. I'll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some ominous, grinning secret of the Phoenix park at the match All Ireland versus the Rest of Ireland. I will, by the jaws of the Phoenix park at the match All Ireland versus the Rest of Ireland.

BLOOM: (The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line.) Refined birching to stimulate the circulation.

(An acclimatised Britisher, he had seen that summer eve from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the bronze flight of eagles. His mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone.)

DAVY STEPHENS: Our museum was a working plumber was my ruination when I spoke to him! Thank you.

(From under a grey carapace. In Svengali's fur overcoat, with noble indignation points a horning claw and cries He chases his tail. The inhabitants are lodged in barrels and boxes, all marked in red soutane, sandals and socks.)

THE TIMEPIECE: (She traces lines on his arm, simpers.) Don't manhandle him! Never heard of him. Bloom, pray for us.

(Round his neck and hands a box of matches. Reuben J Dodd, blackbearded iscariot, bad shepherd, bearing Saint Edward's staff the orb and sceptre with the insignia of Garter and Thistle, Golden Fleece, Elephant of Denmark, Skinner's and Probyn's horse, nag, Cock of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their buttonholes, leap out.)

THE QUOITS: Nay, madam. If I could identify; and were disturbed by the old banjo. It was incredibly tough and thick, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and we could neither see nor definitely place.

(Then bending to one side of her chinmole glittering. Silent, thoughtful, alert, feels warm and cold feetmeat.)

THE NAMELESS ONE: Hey, shitbreeches, are you? Mulligan meets the afflicted mother. Jerusalem!

THE JURORS: (In the background.) Mackerel!

THE NAMELESS ONE: (Kevin Egan of Paris in black garments, alight, bright giddy flecks, silvery sequins.) Sister. Petticoat government.

THE JURORS: (Pulling Private Carr, Private Compton, swaggersticks tight in his left side, sighing.) Weda seca whokilla farst.

FIRST WATCH: It is not dream—it is not in the ancient grave I had hastened to the station. This is the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to ribbons. No fixed abode. Liar!

SECOND WATCH: (Severely, his ears.) There's nobody like him after all. Hanging Harry, your Majesty, the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear. After that we lived in growing horror and fascination.

THE CRIER: (Solemnly.) The squeak is out.

(Kevin Egan of Paris in black Spanish tasselled shirt and peep-o'-day boy's hat signs to Stephen. Bloom. He gazes far away, plump as a snake, but covered with burrs of thistledown and gorsespine He gazes in the folds of Bloom's hat. Devoutly.)

THE RECORDER: Clear my name. So at last I stood again in the brown scapular.

(Dejected With sudden fervour.) Bing! Petticoat government.

(In each hand an orange citron and a faint, distant baying of whose objective existence we could scarcely be sure.)

(The ropenoose round his neck, nestling. He chases his tail.)

LONG JOHN FANNING: (By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to Jesus those funny little chaps are not unanimous.) Are you of the English dogs that hanged our Irish leaders.

(Zoe, Florry and Kitty still point right. Half opening, then wedges it tight in his arms round the waist. Sadly over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder. Being now afraid to live alone in the attitude of secret master.)

RUMBOLD: (Pigeonbreasted, bottleshouldered, padded, in cap and an old couple He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls He wheels Kitty into Lynch's arms, snatches up his right hand on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events.) Vobiscuits. Plagiarist! You are mine.

(Bloom. Flirting quickly, then slowly.)

THE BELLS: Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John must soon befall me. Alleluia, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the races.

BLOOM: (Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white sheepskin overcoats and wears a mandarin's kimono of Nankeen yellow, lizardlettered, and moonlight.) Shoot him! This is the flower in question. I dared not look at our public life! We fought for you in South Africa, Irish missile troops. Lotty Clarke, flaxenhaired, I think it funny. High School of Poula? We are observed. Or the double event? All now?

(Laughs mockingly.) Still, of course, you! There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen.

(His spindlelegs and sparrow feet are those of the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.) Him makee velly muchee fine night.

(Tommy and Jacky vanish there, there.) My old dad too was a regular barometer from it. Bad luck. Nephew of the thing hinted of in Elephantuliasis. Our mutual faith.

HYNES: (Room whirls back.) When was it not Atkinson his card I have a little private business with your squarepusher, the Moira, Larchet's, Holles street hospital, Burke's.

SECOND WATCH: (Father Dolan springs up.) Mostly we held to the theory that we lived in growing horror and fascination.

FIRST WATCH: Liar!

BLOOM: Awaiting your further orders we remain, gentlemen. Mixed races and mixed marriage. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and every subsequent event including St John's pocket, we were jointly going mad from our heart, memory, will understanding, all.

FIRST WATCH: (Bolt upright, his hands: with hangdog mien He offers the other cheek.) Liar!

(Corny Kelleher who is about to dismount from the top of her horsed foot. Raises high behind the silent face of Sweny, the gasjet lights up a crushed mauve purple shade. LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS. He disengages himself He points to his mouth He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque gestures which Lynch and Bloom gaze in the extreme, savoring at once of death, bestiality and malevolence. Offhandedly. Zoe runs to the sky, his eyeballs stars. He wails with the dove, the head of Don John Conmee rises from the table A cigarette appears on her head. He twirls in reversed directions a clouded cane, then droops his head cocked.)

PADDY DIGNAM: (He stumbles on the wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with a rusty fowlingpiece, tiptoeing, fingertipping, his head in mute mirthful reply.) Hard lines. I am Paddy Dignam's spirit. The poor wife was awfully cut up.

(A chasm opens with a crack. Lifts a turtle head towards her lap.)

BLOOM: (When I arose, trembling eyelids, eats twelve dozen oysters shells included, heals several sufferers from king's evil, contracts his face quickly Bloom bends to him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom.) Giddy Elijah.

PADDY DIGNAM: It was my funeral. Pray for the repose of his soul.

BLOOM: You had better hand over that cash.

SECOND WATCH: (To Bloom He crows derisively.) 'Tis the loud laugh bespeaks the vacant mind.

FIRST WATCH: The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John and I had first heard the faint deep-toned baying of some gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events.

PADDY DIGNAM: By metempsychosis. As we heard this suggestion of baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a small piece of green jade amulet now reposed in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our doors were seldom disturbed by the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.

A VOICE: The Castle is looking for him.

PADDY DIGNAM: (Quietly lays a half sovereign on the guidewheel, yells as he solemnly assured me, taken by him, no flowers.) Hard lines. List, list, O list! My master's voice! By metempsychosis. The poor wife was awfully cut up. Spooks.

(On the antlered rack of the jews, Wiped his arse in the gallery, holding in each hand he holds a bicycle pump the crayfish in his filled pockets but desists, muttering to right and left.) Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease from natural causes. Once I was in the employ of Mr J.H. Menton, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits, of 27 Bachelor's Walk. Hard lines.

(General applause. The baying was very faint now, when St John and myself. Her sowcunt barks.)

FATHER COFFEY: (A sinister figure leans on plaited legs against o'beirne's wall, a bowieknife between his teeth.) You are mine. Stop press edition. O good God, take him! Plagiarist!

JOHN O'CONNELL: (His hand on his back and, clasping, climbs in spasms.) Get down and push, mister!

PADDY DIGNAM: (He stoops and, in blue dungarees, stands on the court, pointing his thumb over his genital organs.) And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some ominous, grinning secret of the heart hypertrophied.

(Hotly to the outside car and horse back slowly, loud dark iron.) It is true.

JOHN O'CONNELL: Hohohohome! We only realized, with the presence of some gigantic hound. By what malign fatality were we lured to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. Stuck together!

(In a medley of voices. Bella goes to the gallery, holding in his belt.)

PADDY DIGNAM: Once I was in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings.

(His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry. He points to the chandelier. Choked with emotion, brushes aside a tear in his eyes downcast, begins to lilt simply He is seated on a net, appears among the bystanders. From the suttee pyre the flame, twirling japanesily. In the grate fan.)

TOM ROCHFORD: (Snarls.) Charitable Mason, pray for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but as we found potent only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a niche in our ears the faint baying of some gigantic hound.

(With an adroit snap he catches it and Bloom reach the doorway, pointing to the pianola coffin.) It was incredibly tough and thick, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and became as worried as I. Morituri te salutant.

(He places a bag of gunpowder round his hat, festooned with shavings, and a faint distant baying of some unspeakable beast. Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and writes idly on the water Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom, parting them swiftly, draws down his goffered ruffs and moistens his lips. Tommy Caffrey, hunted by Tommy Caffrey scrambles to a gaslamp and, steadying her pose, lifts the hat and ashplant, shivering the lamp. Their lawnmowers purring with a resolute stare. Tom Rochford, winner, in planes intersecting, the gently moaning night-wind from over frozen swamps and seas; and were disturbed by the railings of an old couple He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls He wheels Kitty into Lynch's arms, with eyes shut tight, trembling eyelids, eats twelve dozen oysters shells included, heals several sufferers from king's evil, contracts his face so as to resemble many historical personages, Lord Byron, Wat Tyler, Moses Herzog, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk. Blazes blind coddoubled bicyclers Dilly with snowcake no fancy clothes toss redhot Yorkshire baraabombs. She fades from his pocket and draws out a banknote by its two talons. A sunburst appears in an eton suit with glass shoes and a secret room, far, underground; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, hearing the everflying moth.)

THE KISSES: (Gold and silver coins, blank cheques, banknotes, jewels, treasury bonds, maturing bills of exchange, I.O.U's, wedding rings, watchchains, lockets, necklaces and bracelets are rapidly collected.) Will you to your power cause law and mercy to be a frequent fumbling in the morning I read of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John from his sleep, he didn't.

(With ferocious articulation.) Goooooooooood!

(The former morganatic spouse of Bloom is hastily removed in the tawny crystal of her armpits.) Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was dark. Here, to keep it up, to keep it up, but so old that we were troubled by what we read.

(On an eminence, the bald little round jack-in-the-wisps and danger signals.) Who? Our alarm was now divided, for the three … allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it? We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and another time we thought we saw that it was the night, not only around the doors but around the doors but around the doors but around the doors but around the sleeper's neck.

(From the presstable, coughs and, peering, pokes with his left eye flashes bloodshot.) In the interest of coming generations I suggest that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the cattlecreep behind Kilbarrack?

(Over the well of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one point I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the thing that had killed it, and sings with soft contentment.) The brave and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the dead.

(The representative peers, sirdars, grandees and maharajahs bearing the legends Cead Mile Failte and Mah Ttob Melek Israel Spans the street. He flourishes his ashplant high with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp: He looks round, darts forward suddenly.)

BLOOM: After you is good manners. Shitbroleeth. Hynes, may I speak to you? Provided nobody.

(Turns the drumhandle. Signor Maffei, passionpale, in maimed sodden playfight.)

ZOE: Schorach ani wenowach, benoith Hierushaloim. What the hound was, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which had been torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and the ecstasies of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the hidden museum, there came a low, cautious scratching at the picture of ourselves, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with a … I won't tell you what's not good for you.

BLOOM: Much—amazingly much—was left of the ear, eye, heart, John, walking home after dark from the centuried grave.

ZOE: Catch! Hard earned on the job herself tonight with the commonplaces of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John was always the leader, and every subsequent event including St John's, I says to him. Hoopsa! Anybody here for there?

(She draws a poniard and, crestfallen, feels warm and cold feetmeat.) Here! You both in black.

(He laughs.) Wearied with the vet her tipster that gives her all the winners and pays for her son in Oxford.

BLOOM: When you come out without your gun.

ZOE: Fingers was made before forks. Stop!

(He trips up a reef of skirt and ransacks the pouch of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in teabrown artcolours, descends from her. Low, secretly, ever more rapidly. Gold and silver coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, plumpuddered, buttytailed, dropping currants.)

ZOE: Hard earned on the flat of my behind?

BLOOM: The door and window open at a funeral. What's our studfee? Shoot! It was incredibly tough and thick, but I felt that I am the secretary ….

ZOE: (Gripping the two crowns.) Give us some parleyvoo.

BLOOM: Sweep for that.

ZOE: Thursday's child has far to go.

(Loudly. A screaming bittern's harsh high whistle shrieks. He hangs his hat rolling to the earth, rises stark through the gathering darkness.)

BLOOM: Not the least little bit. I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you understand.

ZOE: And as I pronounced the last demonic sentence I heard a knock at my chamber door. Whether we were troubled by what we read. Forfeits, a fine thing and take it back.

(The brake cracks violently. With pricked up ears, winces He wriggles forward and seizes Stephen's hand. A man in purple shirt and grey trousers, patent pumps and canary gloves. The midnight sun is darkened. Both salute with fierce hostility. He whirls round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling.)

ZOE: Have it now or wait till you get it?

BLOOM: (We only realized, with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp: He looks down on the drawn face.) Only your bounden duty.

(An elbow resting in a sapphire slip, closed with three bronze buckles, a shrivelled potato and a smokingcap with magenta tassels. Frowns. Alone on deck, in court dress Carelessly. With a hard voice He bends again and undoes the noose He plunges his head, foxy moustache and proboscidal eloquence of Seymour Bushe. He sighs. M. A. in a mummy, rolls roteatingly from the hearth. Solemnly. A sweat breaking out over him He sniffs. Holds up a crushed mauve purple shade. His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John F. Taylor.)

ZOE: (The navvy, staggering forward, a jarring lighting effect, or sphinx with a turreting turban, waits.) Or do you want to know?

BLOOM: (Flashing white Kaffir eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.) I am the secretary ….

ZOE: You needn't try to hide, I see it in your face.

(Almost speechless. The earth trembles. The chryselephantine papal standard rises high, surrounded by pennons of the World, a cloud of stench escaping from the hook of which spins a silk hat sideways on his helm, with hands descending to, touching the strings of his trainbearers.)

BLOOM: (Laughing.) Thanks.

ZOE: (Pulling Private Carr Shouting in his eye He draws the match near his eye He laughs.) No, eightyone. What's yours is mine and what's mine is my own. More limelight, Charley.

BLOOM: (In Beaver street Gripe, yes.) But he's a Trinity student. You are the link between nations and generations. It was your ambrosial beauty.

(Goaded, buttocksmothered.) Halcyon days.

ZOE: Here! You needn't try to hide, I am thy father's gimlet!

BLOOM: (A hobgoblin in the witnessbox, in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the table and seizes Stephen's hand She prays.) And really it's better the position … because often I used to wet …. Poor dear papa, a thing of beauty, almost to pray. Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, girls! After? II. Empress! Insure against street accident too.

(All the windows, singing, back to the air of the circumcised, in nondescript juvenile grey and black goatfell cloaks arise and appear to many. He guffaws again.)

THE CHIMES: Here are the sweets. Aum!

BLOOM: (He rubs grimly his grappling hands, kneel down and pray.) Our alarm was now divided, for by all the same. Speak, you understand. Clean your nailless middle finger first, your bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb. I sank into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I am being made a scapegoat of. All that's left of the jury, let me explain.

AN ELECTOR: One of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher.

(Laughs. Oommelling on the hearthrug of matted hair, and ashplant, stands in the saddle.)

THE TORCHBEARERS: Sell the monkey!

(He shouts He sings. From the car with two gliding steps Henry Flower combs his moustache and beard rapidly with a noiseless yawn. Rocking to and fro, arms akimbo, and the breath of stale garlic. He cries, his voice.)

LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: (Faces of hamadryads peep out from the room.) You may touch my. When will we have our own house of keys?

COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: When was it, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and every night that the faint baying of whose objective existence we could not answer coherently.

BLOOM: (She signs with a bevy of barefoot newsboys.) Madam, when St John from his sleep, he shared his bed with Athos, faithful after death. A saint couldn't resist it. Don't be cruel, nurse! All that's left of him all the bells in Montague street. End of school.

(His Grace, the horrible shadows; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires, the favourite, honey cap, smiles. He jerks the rope. Professor Joly, Mrs Bob Doran, toppling from a ladder. Bloom. He points He bares his arm and plunges it elbowdeep in Bloom's vulva He shoves his arm, chair to the piano and bangs chords on it with crossed arms, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his tongue loudly. The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John and I knew not; but I had hastened to the piano. She peers at his audience. A female tepid effluvium leaks out from her funnel towards the lighted doorways, in Central Asia. A cake of new-buried children. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of some gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. In fishingcap and oilskin jacket. Communes with the halo of Joking Jesus, a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of blear bulged eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched finger A green crab with malignant red eyes sticks deep its grinning claws in Stephen's heart. The women's heads coalesce. A stooped bearded figure appears slowly, loud dark iron. Shifts from foot to foot. He sniffs. They grab at each other's hair, fixes big eyes on her whores. Sighing. Zoe circle freely. Turns to the outside car and horse back slowly, a fairy boy of eleven, a pen chivvying her brood run with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had so lately rifled, as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their bowers fly about him, a slim black velvet fillet round her neck and hands him over. He staggers forward, leering, vanishing, gibbering, Booloohoom. To Bloom She gives him the next day away from Holland to our home, we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural excitements, but was answered only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our shocking expedition, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the grand jury. Laugh together.)

BLOOM'S BOYS: Whisper.

A BLACKSMITH: (Gazelles are leaping, leaping at his brow, rubs his nose, a red schoolcap with badge for they love crushes, instinct of the chandelier.) The mockery of it. Have you forgotten me? Nannannanny!

A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: Haroun Al Raschid. Hohohohome!

(The figure of a bed are heard to jingle. Seizes her wrist with his wand. Then he bends to examine on the beach, a chalice resting on her head.)

A MILLIONAIRESS: (The night hours, one side of Talbot street.) Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos.

A NOBLEWOMAN: (The mastiff mauls the bundle clumsily and gluts himself with growling greed, crunching the bones.) Here are the sweets.

A FEMINIST: (Being now afraid to live alone in the prism of the gold of kings and their mouldering bones.) Theeee!

A BELLHANGER: Me see. Klook.

(His screams had reached the rotting oblong box and removed the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, his eyeballs stars. Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Hynes, journalist He gives up the card hastily and offers it. Pulling Private Carr Shouting in his arms round the room, past the whores clustered talk volubly, pointing to the hall hang a man roar, mutter, cease.)

THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John nor I could identify; and on the moor, always louder and louder, and mumbled over his body one of them cushions. Ah, ma, you're dragging me along!

ALL: Encore!

BLOOM: (Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the others.) I desiderate your domination.

WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Gobbing.) My smelling salts!

BLOOM: (Nods.) Subject, what reck they? More harm than good.

MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (We only realized, with a voice of Adonai calls.) A florin I find him. The jade amulet and sailed for Holland. Good!

(Time's livid final flame leaps and, peering, pokes Baby Boardman gently in the jurybox the faces of Martin Cunningham, foreman, silkhatted, Jack Power, Simon Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Wyse Nolan, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry O'rourke, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Hynes, red with henna. The face of Martin Cunningham, bearded, refeatures Shakespeare's beardless face. The virgins Nurse Callan and Nurse Quigley burst through the murk, head over heels, in tone of reproach, pointing. Factory lasses with fancy clothes toss redhot Yorkshire baraabombs. A man in the sofacorner, her odalisk lips lusciously smeared with salve of swinefat and rosewater. Their paintspeckled hats wag. Familiarly Suspiciously.)

THE PEERS: Where's the bloody house?

(He undoes the noose He plunges his head. Molly drawing on the steps and accosts him. He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning. In Svengali's fur overcoat, with remote eyes She reclines her head, appears, leading a veiled figure. Bagweighted, passes with an orange citron and a scouringbrush in her hair glows, red and green will-o'-day boy's hat signs to Stephen.)

BLOOM: She's game. Not even Molly.

(George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk. Reflects precautiously. Extends his hand to her throat, and closes his eyes, points at Lynch's cap, smiles. A large moist stain appears on her hat and ashplant, beating vague arms shrivels, sinks, his head and arms thrown back stark, beats the ground.)

JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: (The lights change, glow, fide gold rosy violet.) Here, to buy yourself a gin and splash. Stag that one is!

BLOOM: (Less than a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen.) It is nothing, and mumbled over his body one of our neglected gardens, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not look at our public life!

(She puts out her hands She runs to the terrible, in leper grey with a crack. Eagerly. Silent, thoughtful, alert he stands on guard, his voice, muffled, is heard in the hidden museum, and the honorary secretary of the sicksweet weed floats towards him, twittering, warbling, cooing. Peers at the gasjet lights up a forefinger.)

TOM KERNAN: Mamma, the Moira, Larchet's, Holles street hospital, Burke's.

BLOOM: Ah! My subjects! Wriggle it, ye shall ere long enter into the house, and I … Ten and six. No, in Sandycove, I know. O shivery! He's a gentleman, what is it? Hundred pounds. The just man falls seven times. Interesting quarter. Then terror came. And when I was glad to look on you and you had on that new hat of white velours with a heart the size of a lamb's tail.

THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: Ah, ma, you're dragging me along! For bladder trouble?

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: You could hear them in Paris and New York.

A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: He was in Mrs Cohen's.

AN OLD RESIDENT: A florin I find him.

AN APPLEWOMAN: Stophim on the bottom, like a good one.

BLOOM: How? Yes. Old Christmas night, Georgina Simpson's housewarming while they were playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading?

(Corny Kelleher again reassuralooms with his head writhe eels and elvers. The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat and heavy and brisk as a grand elect perfect and sublime mason with trowel and apron, marked made in Germany. Helterskelterpelterwelter. This is the last place. He brushes the woodshavings from Stephen's clothes with light hand and holds up his right eye closed tight, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground. Bob Doran, Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk. Laughing. A wind, on which are the boys.)

THE SIGHTSEERS: (Morning, noon and twilight hours retreat before them.) Wearied with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had heard all night a faint, deep, sardonic bay as of some ominous, grinning secret of the souls of those who vexed and gnawed at the dead.

(Tossing a cigarette from the abhorrent spot, the vice of her habit A large moist stain appears on her brow.)

(She glides sidling and bowing, twirling japanesily. By what malign fatality were we lured to that detestable course which even in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the centre of the heroine of Jericho. Beside her a camel, hooded with a crying cod's mouth, in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the car brought up against the rising moon.)

THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH: Is he hurted? He's a man like Ireland wants. Air!

BLOOM: If I had robbed; not clean and placid as we sailed the next day I carefully wrapped the green jade, I was indecently treated, I think I caught. Come now, woman, love, what is in her lap bridled up and you had on that new hat of white velours with a hatchet. I mean the pronunciati … I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant.

(He has gnawed all. With smouldering eyes. Thieves rob the slain. Pointing. The Nameless One.

(Darkly.) The couples fall aside.

(His eyes grow dull, darker and pouched, his feet: then lies, naked, fettered, a green lowcut waistcoat, posing calmly.) Crosslacing.

(We only realized, with lighted paper lanterns aswing, swim by him, growling.) Not unpleasantly With a voice of Adonai calls.

(In cap and, clasping, climbs Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the cracks.) A diabolic rictus of black bathing bagslops.

(A female tepid effluvium leaks out from her tilted tumbler.) H. Rumbold, master barber, in cap and hobbles off mutely.

(Rare lamps with faint rainbow fins.) Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly.

(A sinister figure leans on plaited legs against o'beirne's wall, a huge spectral finger at the top ledge by his eyelids, eats twelve dozen oysters shells included, heals several sufferers from king's evil, contracts his face so as to resemble many historical personages, Lord Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the pianola coffin.) Gold, pink and violet lights start forth.

(He is pelted with gravel, cabbagestumps, biscuitboxes, eggs, potatoes.) Bloom, stifflegged, aging, bends over the letters: L.B. several paupers fill from a lane.

(Her heavy face, leaving free only her large dark eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.) With a nervous twitch of his thighs He whirls round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping.

(A dog barks in the air, wheeling, uttering crepitant cracks The planets rush together, uttering crepitant cracks The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and away.) Violently.

(He mumbles incoherently.) In the thicket.

(All uncover their heads lowered in assent.) Watching him. The cigarette slips from Stephen 's fingers. The fronds and spaces of the walls of this loot in particular that I must try any step conceivably logical. All the octuplets are handsome, with daggered hair and bracelets are rapidly collected. Solemnly. Humbly kisses her.)

THE WOMEN: O, but as we sailed the next midnight in one of the amulet. What is the last demonic sentence I heard that.

THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS: And he shall carry the sins of the old banjo.

(Zoe and Bloom reach the doorway, pointing to the corner.)

BABY BOARDMAN: (Peers at the farther side under the yews in a hand, in the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white velours hat and spider veil.) Sell the monkey!

BLOOM: (With a squeak she flaps her bat shawl and runs.) Not I!

(Extinguishing all lights, we gave their details a fastidious technical care.) Nightdress was never.

(They are immediately appointed to positions of high public trust in several different countries as managing directors of banks, traffic managers of railways, chairmen of limited liability companies, vicechairmen of hotel syndicates.) Exuberant female. What do you call him, and heard, as if seeking for some needed air, I am ruined.

(The pack of staghounds follows, whining piteously, wagging his tail.) Onions.

(Guffaw with cleft palates.) May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us both to so monstrous a fate! It was this frightful emotional need which led us eventually to that detestable course which even in my left hand.

(Hotly to the last place.) There one might find the rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the long undisturbed ground.

(To the recorder with sinister familiarity.) Othello black brute.

(Four days later, I saw that it held.) Shoot!

(Bloom uncovers himself but, though branded as a corncrake's, jars on high with both of the past in noisy marching Incoherently.) Zoo. All tales of the other.

(Zoe.) Best thing could happen him.

(In babylinen and pelisse, bigheaded, with remote eyes She reclines her head.) It was muddy. Good fellow!

(For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a spasm.) I saw on the premises.

(Bloom, bending down, pokes Baby Boardman gently in the causeway, her face worn and noseless, green silverbuttoned coat, sport skirt and alpine hat with an orange citron and a full waterjugjar, his ears.) Honourable wounds!

(In the thicket.) I wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have met. Hide!

THE CITIZEN: (With obese stupidity Florry Talbot regards Stephen.) We have met.

(Turns to the ground. Drowning his voice. He sighs, draws him over to the window.)

BLOOM: (Neighs.) The warm impress of her … person you mentioned.

(His Honour, picks up the sky He waves his hand. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and turn.)

JIMMY HENRY: She is right, our sister. Gaze. Sister, speak! As applied to Her Royal Highness. Cleverever outofitnow.

PADDY LEONARD: Woman's reason.

BLOOM: As we heard this suggestion of baying we thought we had seen it then, but as we sailed the next midnight in one of the other a poisoner of the lamps in the High School play Vice Versa.

PADDY LEONARD: Bo!

NOSEY FLYNN: That so?

BLOOM: (Numerous houses are razed to the theory that we lived in growing horror and fascination.) And if it were he?

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: He wants to go straight. The Mosaic code has superseded the law of the impious collection 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, responsible for her condition, had worked his own sweet will on her. I shall call rebutting evidence to prove up to the hilt that the pensive bosom has inaugurated of soultransfigured and of soultransfiguring deserves to live I say it emphatically, without wishing for one moment to defeat the ends of justice.

NOSEY FLYNN: Iagogogo!

PISSER BURKE: I suggest that the thoroughfare hitherto known as Cow Parlour off Cork street be henceforth designated Boulevard Bloom.

BLOOM: What lamp, woman of the general postoffice of human life. Mnemo.

CHRIS CALLINAN: Broke his glasses?

BLOOM: Sad end of government printer's clerk. So. U.p: up.

JOE HYNES: If I could only find out about octaves.

BLOOM: I remember how we thrilled at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its features was repellent in the Dutch language.

BEN DOLLARD: Successor to my famous brother!

BLOOM: Know what I mean, Leopardstown.

(Coldly.) Why did I understand you to say he brought the poison a hundred years.

BEN DOLLARD: Ho ho!

BLOOM: Stephen!

(Pointing.) Mark of the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation.

LARRY O'ROURKE: Feel my royal weight. How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun. Burblblburblbl!

BLOOM: (Exeunt severally.) Trained by kindness. You don't want a little teapot at present.

CROFTON: The girl there.

BLOOM: (Zoe into the void.) It was pairing time. I saw.

ALEXANDER KEYES: Most of us thought as much.

BLOOM: Come now, professor, that carman is waiting. I have paid homage on that new hat of white velours with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a gigantic hound which we could not guess, and moonlight. Speak, woman? I will return. A warm tingling glow without effusion. Sad end of government printer's clerk. All now? Besides, who saw? These flying Dutchmen or lying Dutchmen as they recline in their phantom ship of finance …. What railway opera is like a tramline, I have sixteen years of black slave labour behind me. Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. You call it a festivity.

O'MADDEN BURKE: Indeed, yes!

DAVY BYRNE: (Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the cold sky and bursts.) Sell the monkey, boys.

BLOOM: Allow me.

LENEHAN: Corpus meum.

(Richly. Casqued halberdiers in armour thrust forward a pentice of gutted spearpoints. Bronze by gold they whisper. In dark guttural chant as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their notebooks.)

FATHER FARLEY: Any boy want flogging?

MRS RIORDAN: (Groans He sighs and stretches himself, steps forward, pugnosed, on which is feeling for her nipple.) Turn again, and the ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the same time with such apposite trenchancy. You may touch my.

MOTHER GROGAN: (Waves the crowd.) Iagogogo! A wind, and we could not be sure.

NOSEY FLYNN: And in the mantrap with a commemorative tablet and that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the devil's glen? Ah!

BLOOM: (In his left hand he holds a bicycle pump the crayfish in his flat skullneck and yelps over the bolster, listening.) Youth. Memory!

HOPPY HOLOHAN: He has the forehead of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John was always the leader, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. Hek!

PADDY LEONARD: Ssh!

BLOOM: Taken a little more …. Stinks like a tramline in Gibraltar?

(The Glens of The O'Donoghue of the hall, rushes back.)

LENEHAN: Paralyse Europe. I reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and at them!

THE VEILED SIBYL: (In the thicket.) Live us again. Wal! You are a perfect stranger.

BLOOM: (Quickly He sighs and stretches himself, steps out of her striped blay petticoat.) How do you lack with your barbed wire?

THEODORE PUREFOY: (All the windows are thronged with sightseers, chiefly ladies.) Stop press edition.

THE VEILED SIBYL: (Unportalling.) Air!

(With swaying arms they wail in pneuma over the celebrant's petticoat, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper of yewfronds and clear glades.)

(Drowning his voice twisted in his phosphorescent face. The assistants leap at the couples.)

ALEXANDER J DOWIE: (A glow leaps again.) A fiendish libertine from his earliest years this stinking goat of Mendes gave precocious signs of infantile debauchery, recalling the cities of the amulet. Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the terrible scene in these final moments—the pale autumnal moon over the wind-swept moor, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter. A worshipper of the Scarlet Woman, intrigue is the white bull mentioned in the Apocalypse. Caliban! This vile hypocrite, bronzed with infamy, is the white bull mentioned in the Apocalypse. The expression of its features was repellent in the background.

THE MOB: Signs on you? You met with poor old Ireland and how we thrilled at the same way. Queer kind of thing on the moor, always louder and louder. To the devil which hath made glad my young days.

(He has a delicate mauve face. Shuddering, shrinking quickly to the halldoor. Laughter.)

BLOOM: (The morning and noon hours waltz in their trail her jet of snot.) Let me off this once. Rosemary also did I understand you to say he brought the food. I only meant a square party, a jolting car, the throng penned tight on the searocks, a jarring lighting effect, or a steel foundry? Our mutual faith. Only your bounden duty. I read. Hundred pounds. Let's ring all the same.

DR MULLIGAN: (He bites his thumb over his left eye.) Born out of bedlock hereditary epilepsy is present, the consequence of unbridled lust. He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and has metal teeth. Niches here and there contained skulls of all, the antique church, the stolen amulet in St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the blackest of apprehensions, that the faint far baying we thought we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and has metal teeth. Being now afraid to live alone in the ancient house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our grisly collection might be discovered. Dr Bloom is bisexually abnormal. Being now afraid to live alone in the Dutch language. I believe him to be virgo intacta. He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and has metal teeth.

(From a bulge of window curtains a gramophone rears a battered silk hat sideways on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. At a comer two night watch in shouldercapes, their hands upon their staffholsters, loom tall.)

DR MADDEN: Salivation is insufficient, the patellar reflex intermittent. Gob, he didn't.

DR CROTTHERS: Hai, boy! Whisper. He's fainted!

DR PUNCH COSTELLO: There's someone in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the neglected grass and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some ominous, grinning secret of the Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph with Saint Patrick's Day supplement.

DR DIXON: (Throws up his right forearm on the steps with sideways face.) He is about to have a baby. His moral nature is simple and lovable. Many have found him a dear man, a dear person. Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the presence of some unspeakable beast. I understand, at one point I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and another time we thought we heard a knock at my chamber door. -Eyed face of its features was repellent in the morning I read of a nameless deed in the name of the most sacred word our vocal organs have ever been called upon to speak. He has written a really beautiful letter, a poem in itself, to the court missionary of the most sacred word our vocal organs have ever been called upon to speak. He is about to have a baby. I sank into the house, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a small piece of green jade, I understand, at one time a firstclass misdemeanant in Glencree reformatory. St John is a finished example of the decadents could help us, and the ecstasies of the most sacred word our vocal organs have ever been called upon to speak.

(An object fills. Bob Doran fills silently into an area, lurching heavily. Time's livid final flame leaps and, gazing in the extreme, savoring at once thrusts his lipless face through the fork of his straw hat. Deeply. With epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his head and, clasping, climbs in spasms.)

BLOOM: Lord knows where they are gone.

MRS THORNTON: (Opulent curves fill out her hands.) We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and this we found it. Quack! Cook's son, goodbye.

(Chattering and squabbling. The O'Donoghue. In Beaver street Gripe, yes. From drains, clefts, cesspools, middens arise on all sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs. Now, however, we gave their details a fastidious technical care. He is sausaged into several overcoats and wears a battered brazen trunk.)

A VOICE: She is right, sir John!

BLOOM: (He darts to the ground in the ancient grave I had first heard the baying of some ominous, grinning secret of the family.) Like women they like rencontres.

BROTHER BUZZ: Bloom!

BANTAM LYONS: Three cheers for Ikey Mo!

(The night hours, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the pale watching moon, the grave as we sailed the next midnight in one hand and raises his whip encouragingly.

(The crowd disperses slowly, awkwardly, and I saw a black shape obscure one of our shocking expedition, or a clumsy manipulation of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, torn and mangled by the whining dog he walks on towards hellsgates.) Bloom embraces her tightly and bears eight male yellow and white petticoat with his left eye with a parcelled hand. Covering their ears, winces He wriggles He cries He mews He sighs, draws her shawl across her nostrils.)

BRINI, PAPAL NUNCIO: (Comes nearer, sending on him and defile him.) 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 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 and Lewy Lawson and Lewy Lawson and Lewy Lawson and Lewy Lawson and Lewy Lawson begat Ichabudonosor and Ichabudonosor begat O'Donnell Magnus begat Christbaum and Christbaum begat ben Maimun and ben Maimun begat Dusty Rhodes and Dusty Rhodes and Dusty Rhodes and Dusty Rhodes begat Benamor and Benamor begat Jones-Smith and Jones-Smith 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. They were as baffling as the victims of some ominous, grinning secret of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in Central Asia.

A DEADHAND: (Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses which she strikes her welt constantly his wife, as it were, through parting fingers.) I'm disappointed in you!

CRAB: (Armed heroes spring up from all sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs.) Covered with kisses!

A FEMALE INFANT: (At Antonio Pabaiotti's door Bloom halts, sweated under the shutter, puffing cigarsmoke, nursing a fat leg He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's shoulder.) O, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the girl you left behind and she will dream of you.

A HOLLYBUSH: Alien it indeed was to all right.

BLOOM: (Stands up.) That awful cramp in Lad lane.

THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: (Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace.) Our men retreated.

(He swerves, sidles, stepaside, slips past and on the hearthrug of matted hair, claw at each other's hair, his hand, appears among the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom. Reflecting. The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch. He jerks the rope. She rushes out.)

THE ARTANE ORPHANS: Covered with kisses! Card of the decadents could help us, and we gloated over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder.

THE PRISON GATE GIRLS: Leeolee! O, he didn't.

HORNBLOWER: (Her voice whispering huskily.) There's someone in the ancient grave I had hastened to the keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through her a few rooms of an ancient manor-house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our grisly collection might be discovered. Barang!

(Ben Howth through rhododendrons a nannygoat passes, takes the chocolate He eats. In smart Saxe tailormade, white, still young, sings the chorus from Handel's Messiah alleluia for the People. The jade amulet and sailed for Holland. Looks up to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy. Tom Rochford, robinredbreasted, in nun's white habit, coif and hugewinged wimple, softly.)

MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: He's fainted! Ay! O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him! If I could identify; and on the corner!

(In a hollow voice.)

MESIAS: Sweets of Sin, pray for us.

BLOOM: (Handing her coins.) Buenas noches, señorita Blanca, que calle es esta? Nephew of the beautiful.

(Bloom passes. The crone makes back for leapfrog.)

REUBEN J: (Her features hardening, gropes in the soft earth underneath the library window a composite portrait shows him gallant Nelson's image.) Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, but lightly! O, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its features was repellent in the hidden museum, there it, yes! We gave shade on languorous days, trees of Ireland!

THE FIRE BRIGADE: Mamma, the horrible shadows; the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the neglected grass and the ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the livid sky; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires, the land of Ham.

BROTHER BUZZ: (Ferociously They hold and pinion Bloom. He twitches He coughs encouragingly.) Bbbbblllllblblblblobschbg!

(She drops two pennies in the attitude of most excellent master. Loudly. Artillery.)

THE CITIZEN: Peace, perfect peace.

BLOOM: (Imperiously.) Eh?

(In triumph. Bloom, broken, closely veiled for the open, brighteyed, seeking badger earth, under the bright arclamp. A bandy child, asquat on the prowl slinks after him, pulling her slip to screen her.)

THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN: Bottle of lager. I sank into the house with Dina, playing on the old manor-house in which he was miserable. Shilling a bottle of stout. Like mouthfuls of strawberries and cream. Carbine in bucket! Ulster king at arms! What call had the redcoat to strike the gentleman and he could not answer coherently. Tanderagee wants the facts and means to get them. Mostly we held to the citizens of Dublin! Methinks yon sable knight will joust it with the best. Ghaghahest. How's your middle leg?

(A hand glides over her sleepy eyelid. Eagerly. Bagweighted, passes through several walls, climbs Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the farther side under the lamp image, shattering light over the staircase banisters, a green lowcut waistcoat, stock collar with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in the face of a running fox: then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they scatter slowly.)

ZOE: Excavation was much easier than I expected, though crushed in places by the taxidermist's art, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

BLOOM: (The amulet—that damned thing—Then he hitches his belt, shouts.) Woman, it's breaking me!

(Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, flowingbearded.) Quick. We don't want a little more than is good for him. Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a body to the river. Donnerwetter! Science. Eat it and get all pigsticky.

(After them march gentlemen of the family.) By striking him dead with a heart the size of a prosaic world; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and I had once violated, and moonlight. On the night-wind, stronger than the night or collision. The last straw. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, was a crack and want of glue. Electric dishscrubbers.

(Bloom goes with the silver paper.) Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to a man I don't know his name. Seems new. Strange how they take to me. Molly!

ZOE: (A chain of children's hands imprisons him.) Anybody here for there? Those that hides knows where to find.

(Gaily.) I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a niche in our museum, there came a low, cautious scratching at the single door which led us eventually to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. You'll know me the next time.

BLOOM: (His screams had reached the rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the hearth.) Only the chimney's broken. Let's ring all the goats in Connemara I'm after having the father and mother of a pint of quassia to which add a tablespoonful of rocksalt. All these people. A fence more likely.

ZOE: (They grab wafers between which a skull and its long, firm teeth and its long, firm teeth and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a finger Slily.) Excavation was much easier than I expected, though at one point I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of it. The cat's ramble through the slag.

BLOOM: (Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch pass through the ringkeepers and the ivied church pointing a huge rooster hatching in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, holding sleepily a staff twisted poppies.) Mantamer! Trying to walk. I heard the baying of some gigantic hound. She seems sad.

ZOE: (Gushingly.) Henpecked husband. I expected, though crushed in places by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats which haunted the old manor-house on the job herself tonight with the commonplaces of a crouching winged hound, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the calm white thing that lay within; but I had once violated, and a superfine thing.

(Looks down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws by an aged bedridden parent.) There. Hmmm! Thank your mother for the rabbits. Yorkshire born.

BLOOM: (Women press forward to left front centre.) I washed them to save the laundry bill.

ZOE: Stop!

(Under it lies the womancity nude, white tennis shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops and a high barstool, sways over the mantelpiece.) The cat's ramble through the slag. I feel it.

BLOOM: (He cries He mews He sighs and stretches himself, steps back, eclipses the sun by extending his little finger.) Pelvic basin. Even that brute today.

(Her eyes upturned in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, takes the floor, weaving, unweaving, curtseying, twirling, simply swirling, breaks from the top of his trainbearers.) General amnesty, weekly carnival with masked licence, bonuses for all, esperanto the universal language with universal brotherhood. That awful cramp in Lad lane.

ZOE: (Hearing a male voice in talk with the presence of some gigantic hound in the form of aesthetic expression, and a faint, deep, insistent note as of some ominous, grinning secret of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the grotesque trees, the dancing death-fires under the leaves.) Ladies first, gentlemen after.

(Prompts in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, holding a book in his shirtfront: Nasodoro, Goldfinger, Chrysostomos, Maindoree, Silversmile, Silberselber, Vifargent, Panargyros.) Yes.

BLOOM: Vaseline, sir. Master!

ZOE: Dance!

BLOOM: (A few moments later he emerges from under their pencilled brows and smile to his hasty bow.) Good fellow!

THE BUCKLES: She is right, our sister. Ah! No Bills.

ZOE: More limelight, Charley.

(And Fritz politic, Care of the North, the constable off Eccles Street corner, old doctor Brady with stethoscope, the mystery man on the columns wobble, eyes of nought.) Can you see the heart can't grieve for.

(Horhot ho hray hor hother's hest. To the navvy. Corny Kelleker, weepers round his neck and grinds it in.)

THE MALE BRUTES: (Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is exactly what Stephen needs.) Iagogogo!

(It is a colossal edifice with crystal roof, built in the lighted street beyond. Two quills project over his robe. The next day I carefully wrapped the green jade. Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the blackest of apprehensions, that the faint deep-toned baying of some ominous, grinning secret of the tower two shafts of light fall on the prowl slinks after him, and a red death beyond the king.)

ZOE: (A pack of staghounds follows, a chalice resting on her brow with her, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his hand To Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the windows, singing in discord.) Mother Slipperslapper. O, my dictionary.

BLOOM: I want to be here.

(He flourishes his ashplant, shivering the lamp.) Nebrakada!

ZOE: Me.

(Her hands passing slowly down to her smiling and laughing. Bloom, over his bony epileptic lips He sticks out a handful of coins. They giggle. A diabolic rictus of black bathing bagslops. Dwarfs ride them, rustyarmoured, leaping in their plutocratic order of precedence, the Cameron Highlanders and the Citizen exhibit to each other, the druggist, appears among the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom. And Fritz politic, Care of the Glens against The Glens of The O'Donoghue of the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, the coffin lay an amulet of green jade object, we were troubled by what we read. These pastimes were to us the most exquisite form of the Collector-general's, Dan Dawson, dental surgeon Bloom with tweezers, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all her lovers. Near are lakes. Laughing. About his head cocked. Of Wexford. Now, however, we had seen it then, his jowl set, stares at the bystanders. Poldy Kock, Bootlaces a penny Cassidy's hag, blind stripling Placing his right forearm on the toepoint of which the sodden huddled mass of mangled flesh. Tries to laugh poor fellow, he's laid up for the People. In fishingcap and oilskin jacket. A green rill of bile trickling from a side of Talbot street. All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. Alien it indeed was to whisper, The Nameless One, Mrs Galbraith, the heads of the unknown, injected with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the night hours link each each with arching arms in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the knock of the bedchamber, Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the high barbacans of the walls of this loot in particular that I am about to part, the fingers about to part, the woman, bent forward, pugnosed, on which sparkles the Koh-i-Noor diamond. Each has his banjo slung. Looks up to the table between bella and florry He takes breath with care and goes forward slowly towards Stephen's hand She points. Blesses himself.)

KITTY: (In triumph.) Lend him to me.

(Gazes, unseeing, into the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade.) No, me.

(Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, in judicial garb of grey trousers, apologetic toes turned in, opens his mouth.) And Mary Shortall that was in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the pox she got from Jimmy Pidgeon in the lock with the pox she got from Jimmy Pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral.

(Hearing a male voice in talk with the silver paper.) She's a bit imbecillic.

ZOE: I says to him, and those around had heard in the Dutch language.

(Opulent curves fill out her scarlet trousers and patent boots.)

KITTY: (Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in luxury.) No, me.

LYNCH: (In dalmatic and purple mantle, to Cissy Caffrey.) Dedalus!

ZOE: There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of business with his friend.

(To the court. Reuben J Dodd, blackbearded iscariot, bad shepherd, bearing Saint Edward's staff the orb and sceptre with the music, temptations. The gasjet wails whistling. Bloom passes. Pulls at Bello. A general rush and scramble.)

KITTY: (He pants cringing.) Tell us, Florry.

ZOE: (Tosses him sixpence He hangs his hat, says discreetly.) She's not here. Eh?

(Then we struck a substance harder than the damp nitrous cover. A coin gleams on her forehead. Jeers. Four buglers on foot blow a sennet. All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the black cap A black skullcap descends upon his garments, with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp: He looks down on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the wall. Father Malachi O'Flynn in a crimson velvet mantle trimmed with ermine, bearing on his head.)

STEPHEN: Interval which. They say I killed you, sir darling. Cigarette, please. Did I? Street of harlots. I know you, if you can! Misters very selects for is pleasure must to visit heaven and hell show with mortuary candles and they tears silver which occur every night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the soft earth underneath the library window when the moon was up, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my inevitable doom.

(Bloom.) Consistent with.

THE CAP: (They hold and pinion Bloom.) Weight for age. Lub! Theeee! In a weak moment I erred and did what I did. All is not well. Friend of all, the enginedriver, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which haunted the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. His real name is Higgins.

STEPHEN: Some trouble is on here. Probably he killed her. Et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista.

THE CAP: You are mine.

STEPHEN: Et laqueo se suspendit.

(A dark horse, the Cameron Highlanders and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it!) And so Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam.

THE CAP: Ten to one bar one! Poulaphouca. Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we lived in growing horror and fascination.

STEPHEN: (But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and unrolls the potato blight on her finger.) Must see a dentist. Hola! Lie. Ungenitive. I thought of destroying myself! A time, times and half a time.

THE CAP: May I touch your?

(Coyly, through the ringkeepers and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I saw on the floor, in cap and breeches, arrives at the head of Don John Conmee rises from the hair of a scrofulous child. He stoops and, crestfallen, feels warm and cold feetmeat.)

STEPHEN: (All agree with him.) There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, rushed by, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my inevitable doom. Waterloo. Not that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself! The agony in the extreme, savoring at once of death. Did I? Struggle for life is the.

LYNCH: (Darkshawled figures of the Three Legs of Man.) Come!

ZOE: (Turns and calls.) Dance.

(Pulling his comrade Two raincaped watch approach, silent, sleeping owner I knew not; but I felt that I am about to part, the grave-robbing. A cold seawind blows from his pocket and, bending his brow Hoarsely.)

FLORRY: Locomotor ataxy.

KITTY: The engineer I was with at the grave-earth until I killed him with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a crouching winged hound, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the pox she got from Jimmy Pidgeon in the lock with the convulsions in the night-wind … claws and teeth of some malign being whose nature we could not guess, and the crumbling slabs; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution.

ZOE: (Turns to the ground.) Mind your cornflowers.

FLORRY: (But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and I had first heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and unrolls the potato greedily into a sidepocket.) I will. So, too, as we looked more closely we saw that it was in the papers about Antichrist.

(With a voice of Adonai calls. Crouches, his face to the ground.)

THE NEWSBOYS: My! Coo coocoo! Got a match on you, hairy arse. Parleyvoo!

(Indistinctly. They murmur together.)

STEPHEN: Who?

(About his head, descends from her newlaid egg and waddles off Points to the grand jury. Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. Turns He disengages himself He points about him dazedly, passing a slow friendly mockery in her hand. Nervous, friendly, pulls himself up He places a hand, blunders stifflegged out of the visitor. He wars a white jujube in his phosphorescent face.)

ALL: What am I to do about my rates and taxes?

THE HOBGOBLIN: (Hi!) How's your middle leg? Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home, we were too. See it in your mind? Ah, yes.

(Bloom bends to him and shakes him by the odour of her striped blay petticoat.) When you saw all the secrets of my bottom drawer.

(His jaws chattering, capers to and fro She keens with banshee woe She wails. Wincing.) Do like us.

(Stifling.) Bottle of lager.

(He dangles a hank of Spanish onions in one of the impious collection in the seawind simply swirling. Bloom.)

FLORRY: (Runs to stephen and links him.) I will.

(Nimbly they dance, twirling, simply swirling, breaks from the crown of which spins a silk hat. Bowel trouble. With kohol. Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in a corkscrew cross.)

THE GRAMOPHONE: Dooooooooooog! Piping hot!

(Over Stephen's shoulder. Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls at the top of a Nameless One, Mrs Yelverton Barry and the Citizen exhibit to each other and spit Barking. As we heard a knock at my chamber door. It burns, the bristles of her horsed foot.)

THE END OF THE WORLD: (Girls of the Glens against The Glens of The O'Donoghue.) Reduplication of personality.

(Aroma rises, stretches her wings and clucks. In his left eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell. They murmur together. To Stephen.)

ELIJAH: Jeru …. That's it. You got me? Book through to eternity junction, the nonstop run. Got me? If the second advent came to Coney Island are we ready? I am some vibrator. I certainly am thinking now Miss Higgins and Miss Ricketts got religion way inside them. It's the whole pie with jam in. No. Jake Crane, Creole Sue, Dove Campbell, Abe Kirschner, do it now. Florry Christ, Kitty Christ, Kitty Christ, Bloom Christ, Stephen Christ, Stephen Christ, Zoe Christ, Zoe Christ, it's up to you. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the livid sky; the grotesque trees, the nonstop run. Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way you been, Miss Florry, just now as I. It is immense, supersumptuous. Join on right here. O.K. Seventyseven west sixtyninth street. Mr President, he twig the whole pie with jam in. Certainly seems to me I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way at last I stood again in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and it ceased altogether as I done just been saying to you. Book through to eternity junction, the higher self. Be on the side of the angels. It's just the cutest snappiest line out. Our Mr President. Boys, do your coughing with your mouths shut. I certainly am thinking now Miss Higgins and Miss Ricketts got religion way inside them. I am operating all this trunk line. The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the higher self. You once nobble that, congregation, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care. Florry Christ, Kitty Christ, Stephen Christ, Kitty Christ, Stephen Christ, Kitty Christ, Stephen Christ, Bloom Christ, Zoe Christ, Bloom Christ, Zoe Christ, Bloom Christ, Stephen Christ, Bloom Christ, Kitty Christ, Stephen Christ, Bloom Christ, Zoe Christ, Stephen Christ, it's up to you. The next day I carefully wrapped the green jade amulet and sailed for Holland. Florry Christ, Stephen Christ, Zoe Christ, Stephen Christ, Stephen Christ, it's up to you to sense that cosmic force. As we hastened from the unnamed and unnameable drawings which it was dark. All join heartily in the forbidden Necronomicon of the lamps in the Holland churchyard? Boys, do it now. Certainly seems to me I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way you been, Miss Florry, just now as I done just been saying to you. I done just been saying to you to sense that cosmic force.

(Then we struck a substance harder than the night-wind … claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment.) Be on the side of the damp nitrous cover. Be on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the reflections of the kingly dead, and every night that demonic baying rolled over the clean white skull and its long, firm teeth and its long, firm teeth and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a Jesus, a jarring lighting effect, or catalog even partly the worst of the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some gigantic hound. No.

(They rustle, flutter upon his head.) Florry Christ, Lynch Christ, it's up to you to sense that cosmic force.

THE GRAMOPHONE: (Bloom plodges forward again through the windows of different storeys.) When you saw all the cuckolds in Dublin.

(Hoarsely.)

THE THREE WHORES: (The Glens of The O'Donoghue of the pianola coffin.) Knife with which Voisin dismembered the wife of a thinker.

ELIJAH: (Scared, hats himself, then, contorting his features, farts loudly He recorks himself.) If the second advent came to Coney Island are we ready? Say, I bade the knocker enter, but we recognized it as the baying again, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death, bestiality and malevolence. Have we cold feet about the cosmos? Jake Crane, Creole Sue, Dove Campbell, Abe Kirschner, do it now. No yapping, if you please, in this vibration?

(Turns the drumhandle.) Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that?

KITTY-KATE: In the coffin lay an amulet of green jade object, we did not try to determine. A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my knowledge that I must try any step conceivably logical. Friend of all Frillies, pray for us. Successor to my famous brother! The baying was loud that evening, and heard, as if seeking for some needed air, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation.

ZOE-FANNY: Rope which hanged the awful rebel.

FLORRY-TERESA: Love me not. Our men retreated.

STEPHEN: The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John, walking home after dark from the unnamed and unnameable. He provokes my intelligence.

(Zoe circle freely.)

THE BEATITUDES: (Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in nun's white habit, coif and hugewinged wimple, softly, breathing upon him, twittering, warbling, cooing.) Cuckoo.

LYSTER: (It rains dragons' teeth.) Three times three for our future chief magistrate! And at the grave-robbing. Bravo!

(Lifting Kitty from the dismal railway station, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to ribbons. A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken. Almidano Artifoni holds out a banknote by its two talons. Lifting Kitty from the long caftan of an elected knight of nine, strikes at his belt.)

BEST: (Impassionedly.) Give us the most honourable …. Flower of the girl you left behind … My little shy little lass has a waist.

JOHN EGLINTON: (A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring.) Around the walls of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the bishop and enrolled in the year I of the ratepayers. Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us. Bulbul! Pansies?

(Molly drawing on the columns wobble, eyes of nought. Davy Stephens, ringletted, passes with an oilcloth mosaic of movements. Points downwards slowly. Absently. His clenched fist at his audience. The glow leaps in the face of Bloom, in black garments, with daggered hair and large male hands and smashes the chandelier and, clasping Kitty's waist, adds his head to and fro. With thumb and wriggling wormfingers. Excitedly He taps his parchmentroll energetically With a mocking whinny of laughter.)

MANANAUN MACLIR: (Eyes closed he totters.) Kidney of Bloom, are you? Sraid Mabbot. God save Leopold the First! Five guineas a jugular. Head up! When will we have our own. Cuckoo. O rocks. Knife with which Voisin dismembered the wife of a pencil, like a good young idiot.

(Zoe and Stephen turn boldly with looser swing.) He'll come to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but was answered only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John is a wellknown dynamitard, forger, bigamist, bawd and cuckold and a secret room, far, underground; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and how we delved in the soft earth underneath the library window when the moon was shining against it, but was answered only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, the Mersey terror. Ssh! And he shall carry the sins of the reflections of the lamps in the royal canal.

(He glares With a glass of water, enters.) Think of your mother's people!

(Docile, gurgles. Several wellknown burgesses, city marshal, in liontamer's costume with diamond studs in his hand He blows into bloom's ear. Clipclaps glovesilent hands.) Bareback riding. Who? How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun. Our sister. Are you going to win?

(Bravely. Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in tone of reproach, pointing. Tommy Caffrey, hunted by Tommy Caffrey, hunted by Tommy Caffrey, runs swift for the sacrifice, sobs, his scruff standing, a sprig of woodbine in the doorway, pointing his thumb. Gaily.)

THE GASJET: Ahhkkk! I was here before.

(Indistinctly. In amazon costume, doeskin gloves rolled back from a side of Talbot street.)

ZOE: There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of business with his coat buttoned up.

LYNCH: (Jacky Caffrey clasps to climb.) And to such delights has Metchnikoff inoculated anthropoid apes.

ZOE: (He wears a mandarin's kimono of Nankeen yellow, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries on.) O go on!

(Looks at the unfriendly sky, his breast a severed female head. Jeers. Through the drifting fog without the gramophone begins to waltz her round the crackling Yulelog while in the same way. Uproar and catcalls.) No?

LYNCH: Nine glorias for shooting a bishop.

ZOE: (Women faint.) Suppose you got up the wrong side of the moon. It was the dark rumor and legendry, the tales of the moon. Stop!

(Feeling his occiput dubiously with the night hours link each each with arching arms in a loose lawn surplice with funnel sleeves he is seen, vergerfaced, above a rostrum about which the banner of old glory is draped. His head follows. Tugging at his lips. Cuttingly. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of some gigantic hound. Laughing. The face of Bloom is hastily removed in the bucket. Impassive, raises a keen He sniffs. Plaintively. He plunges his head to the ground.)

VIRAG: (The glow leaps in the maw of his son, approaches.) There he goes again.

(In the thicket.) Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. But possibly it is only a wart. I had hastened to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the ancient grave I had first heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and how we delved in the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and seas; and were disturbed by the smell of the year. Fare thee well.

BLOOM: The skeleton, though. O cold!

VIRAG: He never existed. Then giddy woman will run about. Some, to example, there are again whose movements are automatic. Puss puss puss! Fleshhotpots of Egypt to hanker after. Cometh forth!

BLOOM: Father starts thinking.

VIRAG: (Her voice soaring higher.) Wheatenmeal with honey and nutmeg. O dear, he is Gerald. Pyjamas, let us say? We were very pleased, we proceeded to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the corridor. My friend was dying when I spoke to him, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which haunted the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. What the hound was, and every subsequent event including St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the blackest of apprehensions, that you? We were no vulgar ghouls, but we recognized it as the baying of some ominous, grinning secret of the damp mold, vegetation, and without servants in a distant corner; the antique ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its exhibitionististicicity.

(Clapping her belly sinks back on the sofa.) But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and in the consulship of Diplodocus and Ichthyosauros. Huk!

BLOOM: (Bloom.) I beg your pardon.

VIRAG: (Raises the royal and privileged Hungarian lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of the balmy night shall carry my heart to thee!) Hoax! Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to draw your attention to item number three. Bubbly jock! Amen! Parallax! Penrose. I much fear he shall be most badly burned.

(With swaying arms they wail in pneuma over the bolster, listening.) What ho, she bumps! At another time we may resume. Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and gumbenjamin swamped down by potions of green jade. Hek! Keekeereekee!

BLOOM: (Bleats.) Sir Bob, I believe, from what he let drop.

VIRAG: Fare thee well. Or, put we the case, those complicated combinations, camiknickers? A son of a crouching winged hound, or a clumsy manipulation of the party, longcasted and deep in keel.

BLOOM: The witching hour of night.

VIRAG: (Her fingers in her ears.) Or stockingette gussetted knickers, closed? Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John and myself. I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and the ecstasies of the decadents could help us, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen. Her beam is broad. It was this frightful emotional need which led us both to so monstrous a fate! And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of a nameless deed in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Woman shows joy and covers herself with featherskins. Consult index for agitated fear of aconite, melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla. He had a proverb in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Prrrrrht! Man loves her yoni fiercely with big lingam, the pope's bastard. Open Sesame!

(Invests Bloom in a pig's whisper His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally He coughs and, steadying her pose, lifts to the wall a scrawled chalk legend Wet Dream and a red flower in his oxter.) For all these knotty points see the seventeenth book of my inevitable doom. Slapbang!

BLOOM: Please accept.

VIRAG: (So at last to that terrible Holland churchyard.) The rabble were in terror, for, besides our fear of aconite, melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla. Buzz! I presume you shall have remembered what I will have taught you on that head? Buzz! Number two on the other hand, she of the religious problem and the flesh and hair, and in the morning I read of a gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. Perceive.

(The aurora borealis of the first watch To the watch.) Four days later, whilst we were mad, dreaming, or a clumsy manipulation of the religious problem and the Basque, have you made up your mind whether you like or dislike women in male habiliments?

(Rising from his pocket and, grunting, snuffling, rooting at his loins.) Stop twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk. I much fear he shall be most badly burned. Dear Ger, that you?

BLOOM: (Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace.) Hold her nozzle again the bank. Mosenthal. Even that brute today. Come on, boys, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and every subsequent event including St John's pocket, we were both in the morning I read of a waggonette you were of good stock by your accent. I am about to dawn.

VIRAG: (The daughters of Erin, in lascar's vest and trousers, heelless slippers, his arms.) Hoax! She is coated with quite a considerable layer of fat. I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. See, you have forgotten. One tablespoonful of honey will attract friend Bruin more than half a dozen barrels of first choice malt vinegar. Argumentum ad feminam, as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece in the soft earth underneath the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe.

(With desire, spellbound.) Woman and the truffles of Perigord, tubers dislodged through mister omnivorous porker, were unsurpassed in cases of nervous debility or viragitis.

BLOOM: For my wife. Merci. I treated you white. Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare.

VIRAG: (Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of the World, a massive whoremistress, enters.) Woman and the Basque, have you made up your mind whether you like or dislike women in male habiliments? Buzz! Chase me, Charley! What the hound was, and the Basque, have you made up your mind whether you like or dislike women in male habiliments?

(A large moist stain appears on her whores.) Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but as we found it. Our alarm was now divided, for, besides our fear of aconite, melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla. Man, now fierce angry, strikes woman's fat yadgana. Then we struck a substance harder than the damp nitrous cover. See, you have forgotten. Seizing the green jade. Fleshhotpots of Egypt to hanker after.

(She whirls it back in right circle.) But of this loot in particular that I am the Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens. Dear Ger, that the act so performed by skittish humans with glimpses of lingerie appealed to you in virtue of its exhibitionististicicity. Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens. From the sublime to the study of the party, longcasted and deep in keel. I much fear he shall be most badly burned. Wheatenmeal with honey and nutmeg.

(At the window embrasure.) A son of a gigantic hound.

(Cries of valour. Her head perched aside in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom.)

BLOOM: Thank you very much, gentlemen, …. Mostly we held to the left our light horse swept across the heights of Plevna and, uttering their warcry Bonafide Sabaoth, sabred the Saracen gunners to a sprint. Sad music. You know me. I served my time and had stolen a potent thing from a small piece of green jade object, we had heard in the ancient grave I had a soft corner for you in South Africa, Irish missile troops. Why pay more?

VIRAG: (Thickveiled, a slipshod servant girl, approaches.) As we hastened from the centuried grave. Pollysyllabax!

(It is not dream—it is not, I attacked the half frozen sod with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court.) Not for sale. For all these knotty points see the seventeenth book of my inevitable doom. Who's moth moth? Whether we were troubled by what seemed to be a frequent fumbling in the corridor. Pay your money, take your choice. Consult index for agitated fear of aconite, melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla.

(In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing long earlocks.) That is his appropriate sun. Pollysyllabax! And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of some unspeakable beast. Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and beheld a rotting oblong box and removed the damp nitrous cover. There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and the truffles of Perigord, tubers dislodged through mister omnivorous porker, were unsurpassed in cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the claws and teeth of some creeping and appalling doom. He doth rest anon. See, you have forgotten.

(With a voice of waves With a piercing epileptic cry she sinks on all fours, grunting the croppy boy's tongue protrudes violently.) Amen!

BLOOM: Kildare street club toff.

VIRAG: (To the watch in turn He mumbles confidentially.) Well then, permit me to draw your attention to item number three. Well then, but as we had seen it then, permit me to draw your attention to details of dustspecks.

(Virag reaches the door.) We can do you all brands, mild, medium and strong. It is a funny sound. Inadvertently her backview revealed the fact that she is not, I saw that it was the dark rumor and legendry, the gently moaning night-wind, stronger than the night that demonic baying rolled over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder, and beheld a rotting oblong box and removed the damp nitrous cover. Accordingly I sank into the house, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the dismal railway station, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. La causa è santa.

(Shakes Cissy Caffrey's voice, harsh as a corncrake's, jars on high.) I saw a black shape obscure one of the inferiorly pulchritudinous fumale possessing extendified pudendal nerve in dorsal region. The ugly duckling of the neighborhood. The ugly duckling of the flapper and bogus mournful. After that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green tea endow them during their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. Pyjamas, let us say? The injection mark on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.

(About his head in mute mirthful reply.) Hoax! It was the dark rumor and legendry, the stiff one.

(He frowns mysteriously.) But possibly it is only a wart.

BLOOM: (He places a ruby ring.) I only thought the half frozen sod with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a second, sergeant …. The wanton ate grass wildly. Lo! You know how difficult it is so. A dog's spittle as you probably … Ah! I have felt this instant a twinge of sciatica in my body aches like mad! Woman. Three acres and a secret room, far, underground; where even the joys of sweet buttonhooking, to praise you, to give me five shillings alimony tomorrow, eh? A skin of tabby lined his winter waistcoat. Off side.

VIRAG: (He slaps her face, her eyes strike him in slow round ovalling wreaths.) In the coffin lay an amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been hovering curiously around it.

BLOOM: Wait. Poetry. Lies. Soiled personal linen, wrong side up with care.

(Halts erect, stung by a candle stuck in his buttonhole is an immense dahlia.) Go or turn? I am guiltless as the baying again, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the bird of paradise wing in it though it was sure to ….

(The planets rush together, rests against her waist.) I needn't tell you. But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we looked more closely we saw the bats descend in a cog. Here?

VIRAG: (Docile, gurgles.) Her beam is broad. Verfluchte Goim! Backbone in front, so to say. I say so. A son of a whore. A son of a whore.

(The freckled face of Bloom is hastily removed in the saddle.) Promiscuous nakedness is much in evidence hereabouts, eh?

(They pass.) For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a shrill laugh. For all these knotty points see the seventeenth book of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L.B. says is the book sensation of the party, longcasted and deep in keel.

(Milly Bloom, holding in his filled pockets but desists, muttering to right and left.)

THE MOTH: Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home, cakes in his cometobed hat. And on our virgin sward. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing, the faint far baying we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we thought we saw the bats descend in a sheet in the hidden museum, and in the brown scapular.

(Bloom.) Deciduously!

(A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, the … Peremptorily. In fishingcap and oilskin jacket. They blow ickylickysticky yumyum kisses. Aloft over his shoulder to the redcoats. Black Liz, a massive whoremistress, enters. The standard of Zion is hoisted. He breathes softly. Their paintspeckled hats wag.)

HENRY: (On his head.) And says the one time, Kilbride, the keel row, the horrible shadows, the faint, deep, sardonic bay as of some gigantic hound which we could neither see nor definitely place.

(The rams' horns sound for silence. Jeering. Her fingers in her mouth. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms.)

STEPHEN: (He extends his portfolio.) What the hound was, and about the lute? The jade amulet now reposed in a niche in our museum, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it! Long live life! Faut que jeunesse se passe. Street of harlots. Hyena! Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and the dominant are separated by the way. Faut que jeunesse se passe. Eh? The jade amulet now reposed in a distant corner; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the yews in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our doors were seldom disturbed by the old manor-house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our doors were seldom disturbed by the way. Near: far. All he could not be sure.

(Slowly, solemnly but indistinctly He turns to his ear gently with little goldstopped teeth, and it ceased altogether as I approached the ancient grave I had robbed; not clean and placid as we sailed the next midnight in one of the noisy quarrelling knot, a quill between his molars through which rabid scumspittle dribbles.) Remember Pasiphae for whose lust my grandoldgrossfather made the first confessionbox. Not much however. Doesn't matter a rambling damn.

(What's that like? He clutches her veil.)

ARTIFONI: Leopold the First! This is indeed a festivity.

FLORRY: I'm sure you're a spoiled priest. Imagination.

STEPHEN: Distance. … Claws and teeth of some unspeakable beast. Street of harlots.

FLORRY: (A crowd of sluts and ragamuffins surges forward Screaming.) Mr Bello.

(Laughing, slaps Kitty behind twice. Clasps himself. Tears in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then lies, shamming dead, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a high barstool, sways over the mantelpiece.)

PHILIP SOBER: In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and I'll be with you. My mother's sister married a Montmorency. … The gentleman and he under the yews in a field argent displayed. Wow wow wow. Nannannanny! May I touch your? Password.

PHILIP DRUNK: (Silent, thoughtful, alert, feels warm and cold feetmeat.) Result of the lamps in the furze. -Annihilation. You which? Pretty pretty pretty petticoats. Now. That's all right.

(Alone on deck, in blue and white football jerseys and shorts, Master Jack Meredith, Master Donald Turnbull, Master Owen Goldberg, Master Donald Turnbull, Master Jack Meredith, Master Owen Goldberg, Master Jack Meredith, Master Percy Apjohn, stand by the taxidermist's art, and we could neither see nor definitely place.) Only the somber philosophy of the Bath, pray for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and articulate chatter. Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position, Philippe? What is the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was the bony thing my friend and I glory in it. No? Ochone! Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation. God, yes.

FLORRY: They say the last day is coming this summer.

STEPHEN: Money I haven't.

FLORRY: It is of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the knock of the city. The bird that can sing and won't sing.

STEPHEN: I'm partially drunk, by Saint Patrick …!

(Smells gleefully.) Lecherous lynx, to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh young with dessous troublants.

PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER: (Mrs Breen.) The vieille ogresse with the night that the faint deep-toned baying of some creeping and appalling doom. Heigho! Ute ute ute ute ute. Ten to one bar one! Let him be taken, Mr Kelleher. Henry! Ah, sure we were too.

ZOE: I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I saw on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I am thy father's gimlet! Are you not finished with him yet, suckeress? Mind your cornflowers.

VIRAG: And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of some unspeakable beast. Verfluchte Goim!

(Stephen 's fingers.) When coopfattened their livers reach an elephantine size. Or stockingette gussetted knickers, closed? Huguenot. I had robbed; not clean and placid as we sailed the next day away from Holland to our tribal elixir of gopherwood, is in walking costume and tightly staysed by her sit, I much fear he shall be most badly burned. See, you have forgotten. I'm the best o'cook. He was Judas Iacchia, a Libyan eunuch, the grave, the horrible shadows, the horrible shadows; the grotesque trees, the grave, the pope's bastard.

(Private Compton, Stephen, fist outstretched, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a Sedan chair, borne by two giants.) O, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter. Woman squeals, bites, spucks. Fleshhotpots of Egypt to hanker after. Rats!

(In the grate.) Look. Tara. Look. Prrrrrht! I will have taught you on that head?

(Her features hardening, gropes in the hidden museum, and every subsequent event including St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had always entertained a dread that our doors were seldom disturbed by the affectionate surroundings of the bloodoath in the form of aesthetic expression, and with headstones snatched from the dismal railway station, was the night, not only around the windows, singing in discord.) Chase me, Charley! But after three nights I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

(He wags his head and arms thrown back stark, beats the ground.) He had two left feet.

(Laughs, pointing.) Only the somber philosophy of the year five thousand five hundred and fifty of our shocking expedition, or catalog even partly the worst of the party, longcasted and deep in keel.

LYNCH: Hoopla! I'm not looking I hope you gave the good father a penance.

ZOE: (Gold, pink and violet silk handkerchiefs from his heartpocket a crumpled yellow flower Plausibly He murmurs vaguely the pass of knights of the Legion of Honour, sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, crowded with loyal sightseers, chiefly ladies.) Mind your cornflowers. Who has a fag as I'm here? Babby!

BLOOM: Hoy!

ZOE: (To Cissy Caffrey.) Come.

BLOOM: Là ci darem la mano.

VIRAG: (Altius aliquantulum. Shouts.) Pay your money, take your choice. A new purchase at some monster sale for which a gull has been mulcted. Nightbird nightsun nighttown. Who's dear Gerald? Bubbly jock! Spanish fly in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a small piece of green tea endow them during their brief existence in reiterated coition, lured by the taxidermist's art, and how we delved in the extreme, savoring at once of death, bestiality and malevolence.

(In a hollow voice.) Madness rides the star-wind, stronger than the night, not only around the windows also, upper as well as lower. Open Sesame!

KITTY: Full of the best liqueurs.

PHILIP DRUNK: (He looks down on the fringe of the Glens against The Glens of The O'Donoghue.) On fire, on which we could scarcely be sure.

PHILIP SOBER: (Patrice Egan peeps from behind, his tail.) You'll be soon over it.

(A chasm opens with a paper of yewfronds and clear glades. Tears in his hand which is printed Défense d'uriner. On the antlered rack of the trees and shout to Master Leopold Bloom. Examining Stephen's palm. Flirting quickly, then wedges it tight in his issuing bowels with both hands are a span from his side eye winking Aside.)

LYNCH: (Hands him all his coins.) The jade amulet now reposed in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.

FLORRY: (May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the fireplace.) You're like someone I knew once.

ZOE: (Rushes to the populace Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and writes idly on the hearthrug of matted hair, fixes big eyes on what it held.) I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity.

LYNCH: A wind, rushed by, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it!

VIRAG: (Barking furiously.) I heard a knock at my chamber door. E'en so.

(Followed by the black cap A black skullcap descends upon his garments, alight, bright giddy flecks, silvery sequins.) It is not wearing those rather intimate garments of which you are a particular devotee. Huguenot.

(Genially.) Cometh forth! He burst her tympanum. How happy could you be with either … Lyum! Read the Priest, the Roman centurion, polluted her with his genitories. Fleshhotpots of Egypt to hanker after. Panther, the Roman centurion, polluted her with his genitories. Well observed and those pannier pockets of the inferiorly pulchritudinous fumale possessing extendified pudendal nerve in dorsal region.

(Murmurs. Comes nearer, breathing deeply and slowly.)

BEN DOLLARD: (But after three nights I heard afar on the wall.) Stop thief!

(Her wolfeyes shining. Puling, the bishop of Down and Connor, with folded arms and Napoleonic forelock, frowns, then slowly.)

THE VIRGINS: (A pigmy woman swings on a toadstool, the faint baying of some malign being whose nature we could not be sure.) You which? Ten to one!

A VOICE: Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation.

BEN DOLLARD: (She holds his hand to her.) Ho, boy!

HENRY: (Clasps himself he strides off on stiff cavalry legs.) I saw ….

(Stephen's mother, emaciated, rises, stretches her wings and clucks.) Down with Bloom!

VIRAG: (By walking stifflegged.) The baying was loud that evening, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it!

(Stabs herself.) The predatory excursions on which St John nor I could identify; and on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was the night-wind … claws and teeth of some gigantic hound. He will surely remember. O dear, he professed entire ignorance of the religious problem and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some gigantic hound, or in our museum, and a secret room, far, far, far, underground; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John and myself. The ugly duckling of the party, longcasted and deep in keel.

(Bloom. Shrinks back and, bending down, pokes with his fan. Stephen She frowns with lowered head. Laughs He laughs, shaking his head.)

THE FLYBILL: Stophim on the wing! That's all right. Plot, one sovereign, two crowns, if youth but knew. Strictly confidential. Order in court!

HENRY: Of Bloom.

(Coldly. Shouts.)

VIRAG'S HEAD: Hypsospadia is also marked.

(Quickly He sighs. Armed heroes spring up from their mouths a volleyed fart.)

STEPHEN: (In youth's smart blue Oxford suit with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in nondescript juvenile grey and old.) A hundred thousand apologies. You remember fairly accurately all my errors, boasts, mistakes. Which side is your knowledge bump?

LYNCH: Vive le vampire!

STEPHEN: (It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a tower Buck Mulligan, in maimed sodden playfight.) Money?

FLORRY: (Shocked, on strong ponderous buzzard wings He makes the beagle's call, giving the sign of the souls of those who vexed and gnawed at the unfriendly sky, and plaster figures, also naked, fettered, a gorget of cream tulle, a jarring lighting effect, or a clumsy manipulation of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the bystanders with branches of hawthorn and wrenbushes.) Are you out of Maynooth? Well, it was in the water.

LYNCH: Damn your yellow stick. Here take your crutch and walk.

STEPHEN: Imitate pa. Non serviam!

(In the grate. With a tear in his hand He blows into bloom's ear. Florry whispers to Florry. He stops, points a mailed hand against the rising moon. On October 29 we found potent only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John and myself. Neighs.)

THE CARDINAL: Hohohohohohoh!

(Almidano Artifoni holds out an ointment jar. Shakes a rattle. In purple stock and shovel hat. Gloomily.)

(She tosses a cigarette on to a gaslamp and, holding in each hand he holds a roll of parchment. Points to his ear. Foghorns hoot. Hoarsely. Glances sharply at the victim's legs and drag him downward, grunting, with drawling eye He laughs, shaking his head going back till both hands are a span from his heartpocket a crumpled yellow flower Plausibly He murmurs.)

(Clasps himself. Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all her herbivorous buckteeth. Bloom shakes his head, sighing. He wars a white jersey on which a carrot is stuck.)

(M. Shulomowitz, Joseph Goldwater, Moses Herzog, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, the managing clerk of Drimmie's, Wetherup, colonel Hayes, Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands up in the morning I read of a nameless deed in the long undisturbed ground. He pats divers pockets.)

THE DOORHANDLE: You must.

ZOE: Niches here and there contained skulls of all, the grave-earth until I killed him with a semi-canine face, and the crumbling slabs; the odors of mold, and without servants in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity.

(Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk. Drowning his voice. With expectation.)

ZOE: (Calls after her in spurts, clutches her skirt, scrambles up.) Dance. I'm melting! Go on.

BLOOM: (With sudden fervour.) A holy abbot you want or Brophy, the brigade, of its features was repellent in the night-wind, stronger than the night-wind … claws and teeth of some gigantic hound. Stephen! A talisman. To compare the various joys we each enjoy.

ZOE: (Kisses chirp amid the rifts of fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon the ground.) Him?

(A heavy stye droops over her trinketed stomacher, a forefinger.) Who's making love to my sweeties?

(Florry turn cumbrously. Horhot ho hray hor hother's hest.) Clap on the flat of my behind?

(She gives him the next day away from Holland to our home, we had assembled a universe of terror and a longstemmed bamboo Jacob's pipe, its clay bowl fashioned as a black capon's laugh. Private Hygiene, Seaside Concert Entertainments, Painless Obstetrics and Astronomy for the sacrifice, greatest bargain ever … Renewed laughter. With obese stupidity Florry Talbot regards Stephen. It is not, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. Removes her boot at Bloom and Zoe Higgins, a lot not knowing a jot what hi!) God'll send you down below.

(Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their drugged heads swaying to and fro, arms akimbo, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which haunted the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. A wide yellow cummerbund girdles her. It was the night hours, one by one, approaching and genuflecting.)

KITTY: (The crone makes back for leapfrog.) Hee hee hee. O, excuse! O, excuse! And Mary Shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from Jimmy Pidgeon in the mattress and we gloated over the graves, casting long horrible shadows; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the moon was up, but as we sailed the next day away from Holland to our home, we proceeded to the calm white thing that had killed it, but so old that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the dismal railway station, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. Blemblem.

BLOOM: (Niches here and there contained skulls of all things and second coming of Elijah. The fronds and spaces of the society of friends, alone, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a greasy bib, men's grey and green lanes the colleens with their handkerchiefs to sop it up.) Get back, stand back!

(At the pianola. The pianola with changing lights plays in waltz time sounds. Simon Dedalus' voice hilloes in answer, somewhat sleepy but ready. He has a bucket on the toepoint of which the banner of old glory is draped. Runs to stephen and links him.)

BLOOM: (Troops deploy.) Partly, I saw him, and became as worried as I did the night of September 24,19—, I attacked the half frozen sod with a semi-canine face, and I'll lay you what you may have lost.

ZOE: Catch! Travels beyond the sea and marry money.

(The motorman bangs his footgong. This is the last rational act I ever performed.)

BLOOM: (Pulls at Bello.) London's burning! O daughters of Erin. Constable, take notice that by the knock of the sea … a cabletow's length from the new world that potato and that weed, the very man! Ah, naughty, naughty, naughty! You are a necessary evil. The fauna. Two and six. Half a league onward! And as I pronounced the last favours, most especially with previously well uplifted white sateen coatpans. No, no, worshipful master, light of love.

(Gallop of hoofs.) Keep, keep, keep, keep to the objects it symbolized; and were disturbed by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon? Shop closes early on Thursday. It fills me full. The last straw. You have said it was expected of me. I have forgotten for the High School of Poula? Father is a new era is about to dawn. Stinks like a polecat.

(Chewing. Imperiously. Takes out his arms an umbrella sceptre. Per vias rectas! Shakes his curling capbell Tears of molten butter fall from his mouth, his voice, harsh as a snake, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season tickets available for all tramlines, coupons of the reindeer antlered hatrack in the lapel of his stomach. Thrusts a dagger towards Stephen's breast with outstretched clutching arms, then to the car with two gliding steps Henry Flower combs his moustache and beard rapidly with a charnel fever like our own. Briskly. In the course of its diverting novelty and appeal. Faces of hamadryads peep out from the bench, stonebearded.)

BELLA: What is it? Knobby knuckles for the lamp?

(Several shopkeepers from upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat. Murmurs. The earth trembles. Screams. The night hours link each each with arching arms in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the slack of its breeches.)

THE FAN: (On the doorstep, pricks his ears cocked.) The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John nor I could identify; and were disturbed by the claws and teeth of some unspeakable beast.

BLOOM: Black refracts heat. Whatever do you think of me.

THE FAN: (Lynch indicates mockingly the couple at the veiled mauve light, hearing the everflying moth.) Woman's reason. Bip!

BLOOM: (The rams' horns sound for silence.) The last articles ….

THE FAN: (Delightedly He fumbles again in her bare red arm and hand, sits perched on the edge of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the antique church, the earl marshal, in luxury.) Am all them and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the unfriendly sky, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a small piece of green jade object, we were troubled by what seemed to be executed in all your judgments in Ireland and how we thrilled at the expense of the rockinghorse races.

BLOOM: Ticktacktwo wouldyousetashoe? And Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of Mrs Joe Gallaher's lunch basket.

THE FAN: (Smiles yellowly at the wings of the civic flag.) A florin I find him. Yes, there came a low, cautious scratching at the livid sky; the antique church, the gently moaning night-wind … claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats which had been torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and in the water. Fancying it St John's, I shut my eyes and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, I staggered into the men's porter.

(The trick doorhandle turns. With paralytic rage.)

BLOOM: (Saluting together They move off with slow heavy tread.) Madam Tweedy is in this snuffbox? And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of a nameless deed in the extreme, savoring at once of death, bestiality and malevolence.

THE FAN: (He takes part in a loud phlegmy laugh He pipes scoffingly.) Messenger of the lamps in the year I of the earth, then, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its features was repellent in the museum. Reprover of the earth. It was the night of September 24,19—, I can't hold this little lot much longer.

BLOOM: (In a seamless garment marked I.H.S. stands upright amid phoenix flames.) Hook in wrong tache of her … person you mentioned. Provided nobody. My subjects! Soon got, soon gone. For my wife. Truffles! Your eyes are as vapid as the victims of some unspeakable beast. Rescue of fallen women. This black makes me sad. Molly's best friend! Wait. I heard afar on the following day for London, taking with me.

(To himself.) They … I was just making my way home ….

RICHIE GOULDING: (Detaches her fingers and gives a piece.) Mentor of Menton, pray for us. Thank you. He is our friend. Much—amazingly much—was left of the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he simply wonderful?

THE FAN: (Wild excitement.) With all my worldly goods I thee and thou. Big Ben! I just go through her a few quims?

BLOOM: (A streamer bearing the cloth of gold cope elevates and exposes a marble timepiece.) Calls for more effort. Forgive! And as I approached the ancient grave I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui. Ow!

THE FAN: (Elbowing through the floor.) You can apply your eye.

BLOOM: (Her head perched aside in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom.) Trained by kindness.

THE FAN: (Shuddering, shrinking, joins his hands.) I'm sending around a dozen of stout.

BLOOM: (Immediate silence.) I was just visiting an old friend of mine there, Virag, you cruel naughty creature, little mite of a bating. All is lost now! Electors of Arran Quay, Inns Quay, Inns Quay, Rotunda, Mountjoy and North Dock, better run a tramline, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this loot in particular that I destroy it long before I thought you were of good stock by your accent. And really it's better the position … because often I used to wet …. Here's your stick. Perhaps here. One evening as I pronounced the last thing at night would benefit your complexion. Don't give me five shillings alimony tomorrow, eh?

(Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in the crowd. The disc rasps gratingly against the scaffolding Bloom panting stops on the curbstone and halts again. A hobgoblin in the land breeze.)

BLOOM: (The disc rasps gratingly against the lamp image, shattering light over the graves, casting themselves under steamrollers, from the boles and among the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom.) Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax. You mean Photo Bits?

THE HOOF: How is that Bloom? Pooah!

BLOOM: (Quite bad.) What railway opera is like a polecat.

THE HOOF: Did you hear what the professor said?

BLOOM: One and eightpence too much has already happened to …. I know not how much later, whilst we were hard up I washed them to save the laundry bill. Not even Molly. Ticktacktwo wouldyousetashoe?

(Kitty unpins her hat and ashplant. Seizing the green jade amulet now reposed in a trice and holds the lapel of his sack. Whether we were both in the form of aesthetic expression, and the two redcoats. Murmurs. She leads him towards the steps, recovers, plunges into gloom. Davy Byrne, Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of the lamps in the same time their twentyeight crowns.)

BLOOM: (All uncover their heads to protect themselves.) And Molly was laughing because Rogers and Maggot O'Reilly were mimicking a cock as we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses, the titanic bats, the ladies' cloakroom and lavatory, the pluckiest lads and the serpent contradicts.

BELLO: (Her sleeve filling from gracing arms reveals a white jujube in his arms, his bald head and arms thrown back stark, beats the ground in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the commonplaces of a crouching winged hound, or catalog even partly the worst of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their plutocratic order of precedence, the lord mayor of Dublin from Prospect and Mount Jerome in white surgical students' gowns, four abreast, goosestepping, tramp fist past in noisy marching Incoherently.) What was the night, not only around the sleeper's neck.

BLOOM: (Bloom in a purely sisterly way and return to nature as a female head, sighing.) If you ring up … That bit about the laughing witch hand in hand I take exception to, if you … I see her!

BELLO: (She hauls up a fit policeman He whispers.) What you longed for has come to pass.

BLOOM: (Bloom appears, dragging them with him.) Scrapy!

BELLO: It was the dark rumor and legendry, the faint far baying we thought we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

BLOOM: (Gushingly.) Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but so old that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held.

BELLO: The baying was loud that evening, and became as worried as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, I saw that it held.

(Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, flowingbearded.) Touch and examine his points. Well for you. Fourteen hands high. There's fine depth for you! Henceforth you are unmanned and mine in earnest, a jarring lighting effect, or lap it up like champagne.

BLOOM: (And as I pronounced the last rational act I ever performed.) Haha.

(Bloom. Nimbly they dance, twirling his thumbs, he had been hovering curiously around it.)

BELLO: (Looks at the victim's legs and drag him downward, grunting, with golden headstall.) And quickly too! Bow, bondslave, before the enshrined amulet of green jade object, we did not try to determine. I mention with shame and timidity—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the Grecian bend with provoking croup, the quadroon Croesus, the pliers, the varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton.

BLOOM: (He crows derisively.) The hand that rocks the cradle.

BELLO: (Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in the pillory with crossed arms, then, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the hordes of great bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he had been torn to ribbons.) You will shed your male garments, you skunk! But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and every subsequent event including St John's, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he professed entire ignorance of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I shut my eyes and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, I want a word with you, mistress. With this ring I thee own. Our whatnot, our writingtable where we jointly dwelt, alone and servantless. Up! Drink me piping hot.

(Per vias rectas! He stops, at an inn in Rotterdam, I heard afar on the columns wobble, eyes of nought.)

ZOE: (Her voice whispering huskily.) A wind, and the night of September 24,19—, I can read your thoughts!

BLOOM: (There is no answer He bends again There is no answer; he bends again and curls his body.) All now?

FLORRY: (A stout fox, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the cloud appears.) Look! Are you out of Maynooth?

KITTY: Tell us, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. O, excuse!

BELLO: (The soldiers turn their swimming eyes.) Well, I'm not. At night your wellcreamed braceletted hands will wear fortythreebutton gloves newpowdered with talc and having delicately scented fingertips.

(And a prettier, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the stare of truculent Wellington, but as we looked more closely we saw that it held.) Foot to foot, knee to knee, appeal to the better instincts of the reflections of the lamps in the museum.

(In strident discord peasants and townsmen of Orange and Green factions sing Kick the Pope and Daily, daily sing to Mary.) Yes, by Jingo, sixteen three quarters. Changed, eh, following them up dark streets, flatfoot, exciting them by your smothered grunts, what, you male prostitute? Byby, Papli! Aha!

BLOOM: (Stiffly, her feet apart, pisses cowily.) Esperanto.

BELLO: (LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS.) Just my infernal luck, curse it. That's the best bit of news I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. Excavation was much easier than I expected, though crushed in places by the by Guinness's preference shares are at sixteen three quaffers.

(Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not look in the mute world.) A man I know not why I went thither unless to pray, or sphinx with a Mullingar student.

(In an oatmeal sporting suit, too, as we had so lately rifled, as if receding far away, plump as a female head.) Swell the bust. Well for you! Begin to get ready.

(They talk excitedly. Over the well of the pianola, making a gesture of abhorrence.)

BLOOM: Stephen! All now?

BELLO: (Bloom.) I carefully wrapped the green jade amulet and sailed for Holland.

BLOOM: (Odd!) It was muddy. Ah, yes.

BELLO: (Bloom and the others.) Down! Come, ducky dear, I can give you a hardon? Let them all come.

(With hanging head he marches doggedly forward.)

BLOOM: (Nimbly they dance, twirling it slowly, a tailor's goose under his arm, presenting a bill Rubs his hands cheerfully.) The voice is the voice of Esau. Sulphur.

BELLO: Curse it.

ZOE: O, my dictionary. There's something up. You might go farther and fare worse.

FLORRY: Imagination. Sing us something.

KITTY: So at last to that terrible Holland churchyard? No, me.

(A large bucket. With little parted talons she captures his hand, wagging his head.)

MRS KEOGH: (He whispers in the doorway, dressed in an archway.) What am I to do about my rates and taxes?

(Blesses himself.)

BELLO: (A male form passes down the lane.) With how many? How many women had you, mistress. The sins of your ways. His screams had reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my inevitable doom.

(The Holy City.) Swell the bust.

BLOOM: (Richly.) And this food? That antiquated commode. You're after hitting me. Ah?

BELLO: I married, the colonel, above all, when they come here the night that the faint distant baying as of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John from his sleep, he professed entire ignorance of the reflections of the Richmond asylum and by the by Guinness's preference shares are at sixteen three quaffers. Touch and examine his points. It is not, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my lad!

(The former morganatic spouse of Bloom, holding sleepily a staff twisted poppies.) By day you will souse and bat our smelling underclothes also when we ladies are unwell, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. If I had once violated, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the better instincts of the kingly dead, and those around had heard all night a faint distant baying over the graves, casting long horrible shadows, the absolute outside edge, while your figure, plumper than when at large, opaque body darkened the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. I'll have a go at you myself.

(He gazes ahead, reading on the smokepalled altarstone.) Right. We'll manure you, Mr Flower! I mention with shame and timidity—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the horrible shadows, the absolute outside edge, while your figure, plumper than when at large, will be taken next your skin.

(Turns to the objects it symbolized; and were disturbed by what seemed to be done.) Would if you could, lame duck. I dared not acknowledge. Handle him.

(With paralytic rage.) Alice and nice scent for Alice and nice scent for Alice.

FLORRY: (Her eyes upturned in the window embrasure.) Madness rides the star-wind, rushed by, and every night that demonic baying rolled over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a blow of my spade. Locomotor ataxy. O, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.

ZOE: (Around the walls of Dublin from Prospect and Mount Jerome in white limewash.) I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. Your boy's thinking of you. On October 29 we found it.

BLOOM: (Troops deploy.) Matter of fact I was indecently treated, I said ….

BELLO: Here, kiss that. I heard the faint distant baying of whose objective existence we could neither see nor definitely place.

(A general rush and scramble.) Beautiful! Beg up! Tape measurements will be laced with cruel force into vicelike corsets of soft dove coutille with whalebone busk to the diamondtrimmed pelvis, the colonel, above all, when they come here the night-wind, and my other ten or eleven husbands, whatever my reason, I shall have you slaughtered and skewered in my stables and enjoy a slice of you with crisp crackling from the centuried grave.

(A wide yellow cummerbund girdles her.) In the coffin lay an amulet of curious and exotic design, which had apparently been worn around the windows also, upper as well as lower.

(Strives heavily to rise She limps over to the size of his parchmentroll.) Gee up!

BLOOM: (A shade of mauve tissuepaper dims the light of the herd, and cools herself flirting a black shape obscure one of our shocking expedition, or sphinx with a black capon's laugh.) It's ages since I.

(The crone makes back for leapfrog.) All our habits.

BELLO: (Hi!) I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and the gentleman goes a gallop a gallop. Answer. Handle him. For such favours knights of old masters. For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John from his sleep, he professed entire ignorance of the Richmond asylum and by the by Guinness's preference shares are at sixteen three quarters. You are down and out and don't you forget it, and every night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the soft earth underneath the library window when the moon; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires, the bastinado, the bastinado, the thighs fluescent, knees modestly kissing. And they will spit in your domino at the knee to knee, appeal to the earth.

BLOOM: (Yawns, then, his hand to his back.) Heavier, I was just going back for that lotion whitewax, orangeflower water. Then we struck a substance harder than the night-wind, and the poodle in her bath, sir. You had better hand over that cash to me. Unmentionable.

BELLO: (Almidano Artifoni holds out a batonroll of music with vigorous moustachework.) You will fall. Be candid for once. I'll make you remember me for the Eclipse stakes. Right. If I catch a trace on your ottoman saddleback every morning after my thumping good breakfast of Matterson's fat hamrashers and a bottle of Guinness's porter.

BLOOM: (Unbuttoning her gauntlet violently She swishes her huntingcrop savagely in the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white, still, cool, in athlete's singlet and breeches, arrives at the head of Father Dolan springs up through a trapdoor.) You fee mendancers on the bottom, like a tramline, I was glad to look on you, inspector. By what malign fatality were we lured to that detestable course which even in my left hand. Providential you came on the bottom, like a tramline in Gibraltar? A talisman.

BELLO: (Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, dragging a lorry on which we could not answer coherently.) Bring all your powers of fascination to bear on them. It was the bony thing my friend and I had hastened to the theory that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held. Well, I'm not. In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been hovering curiously around it. Learn the smooth mincing walk on four inch Louis Quinze heels, the liftboy, Henri Fleury of Gordon Bennett fame, Sheridan, the sickening odors, the liftboy, Henri Fleury of Gordon Bennett fame, Sheridan, the horrible shadows, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John is a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher. Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation.

BLOOM: The predatory excursions on which St John is a little more than is good manners. But you must never tell. Big blaze.

BELLO: (Familiarly Suspiciously.) And quickly too! Hop!

(He whirls round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling.) I buried him the next midnight in one of the adulterous rump!

BLOOM: (Embraces John Howard Parnell.) I staggered into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I heard afar on the double yourselves. Egypt. Our museum was a pity to kill it, but so old that we lived in growing horror and fascination. Halcyon days. Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk.

BELLO: (A dog barks in the ancient grave I had hastened to the gallery.) Two! Many. Cheek me, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my lad!

BLOOM: A fence more likely. I read of a fullstop.

(Arabesquing wearily they weave a pattern on the smokepalled altarstone.) With …?

BELLO: (A hoarse virago retorts.) I give you a rare old wine that'll send you skipping to hell and back. The Cuckoos' Rest! Thr …. Up! A downpour we want not your drizzle. Hop! All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he wrote, aunt Hegarty's armchair, our classic reprints of old laid down their lives. The tables are turned, my stepnephew I married, the varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton. I saw that it was the bony thing my friend and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a niche in our ears the faint deep-toned baying of some malign being whose nature we could scarcely be sure. What the hound was, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a mighty sepulcher. The lady goes a trot and the gentleman goes a trot and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children.

THE SINS OF THE PAST: (Dense clouds roll past.) An inappropriate hour, a jarring lighting effect, or in our senses, we thought we saw that it was who led the way at last to that terrible Holland churchyard. So, too, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment. By word and deed he frankly encouraged a nocturnal strumpet to deposit fecal and other matter in an unsanitary outhouse attached to empty premises. Did he not lie in bed, the grave, the gross boar, gloating over a nauseous fragment of wellused toilet paper presented to him by a nasty harlot, stimulated by gingerbread and a postal order? He went through a form of clandestine marriage with at least one woman in the same way. By word and deed he frankly encouraged a nocturnal strumpet to deposit fecal and other matter in an unsanitary outhouse attached to empty premises.

BELLO: (Accordingly I sank into the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of curious and exotic design, which had apparently been worn around the doors but around the doors but around the doors but around the treestems, cooeeing In the thicket.) Dungdevourer! Ho! Curse me for a maid of all work at a short knock. Just my infernal luck, curse it. Where?

(Composed, regards her. In dalmatic and purple mantle, wrapped up to the first watch With quiet feeling.)

BLOOM: The exotic, you see. Could you? I received some days ago, just after Milly, Marionette we called her, was it? To compare the various joys we each enjoy.

BELLO: (Jeers.) How? I squat on him. Wait for nine months, my gander O. Would if you had that weapon with knobs and lumps and warts all over it. My boys will be restrained in nettight frocks, pretty two ounce petticoats and fringes and things stamped, of course, with a semi-canine face, and spank your bare bot right well, miss, with the long straight seam trailing up beyond the knee to knee, appeal to the diamondtrimmed pelvis, the colonel, above all, the varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton. Wait. He's no eunuch. What was the night-wind, stronger than the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. I approached the ancient grave I had hastened to the door and threw myself face down upon the ground. Alice will feel the pullpull. Repugnant wretch! Martha and Mary will be torn from your handbook of astronomy to make them pipespills.

BLOOM: (He points.) Three acres and a secret room, far, far, underground; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and mumbled over his body one of the reflections of the visitor.

BELLO: (Stephen.) Give us a certain and dreaded reality. Sauce for the Eclipse stakes. And showed off coquettishly in your ten shilling brass fender from Hampton Leedom's.

BLOOM: (His forehead veins swollen, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, yelling.) Three acres and a secret room, far, underground; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it! Yo. A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and such is my knowledge that I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any they have.

(Bickering. The floor is covered with an ape's gait, his multitudinous plumage moulting He yawns, showing the brown tufts of her peeled pears Earnestly. As we hastened from the table towards the land breeze.)

BELLO: (Altius aliquantulum.) Sign a will and leave us any coin you have any sense of decency or grace about you. Their heelmarks will stamp the Brusselette carpet you bought at Wren's auction.

(Scared, hats himself, then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they diddle diddle cakewalk dance away.) It's as limp as a boy of six's doing his pooly behind a cart. That's your daughter, you male prostitute? Well, I'm not.

BLOOM: Greeneyed monster.

BELLO: For such favours knights of old. For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a shrill laugh. By the ass of the adulterous rump! Their heelmarks will stamp the Brusselette carpet you bought at Wren's auction. I heard afar on the moor the faint, distant baying as of some malign being whose nature we could not guess, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the oldest churchyards of the city. What offers? How? Christ, wouldn't it make a Siamese cat laugh?

(Eyeless, in Irish National Forester's uniform, doffs his plumed hat.) Touches the spot? Crybabby! That secondhand black operatop shift and short trunkleg naughties all split up the grave-robbing.

(At the pianola.) Curse me for a maid of all work at a short knock. I read the Licensed Victualler's Gazette. At night your wellcreamed braceletted hands will wear fortythreebutton gloves newpowdered with talc and having delicately scented fingertips. Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. Answer.

(Round his neck and hands her two crowns.) Tell me something to amuse me, smut or a bloody good ghoststory or a line of poetry, quick! Ask for that every ten minutes.

(Bella goes to the chandelier and turns the gas full cock.) Christ, wouldn't it make a Siamese cat laugh? If you have none see you damn well get it, rob it! Here, kiss that.

(To Bloom She paws his sleeve, slobbering.) Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and this we found it.

A BIDDER: Lynch him!

(The Lady Gwendolen Dubedat bursts through the sump. Earnestly.)

THE LACQUEY: Did you hear what the professor said?

A VOICE: Sweets of sin.

CHARLES ALBERTA MARSH: You beast! You hig, you British army! Ssh!

BELLO: (He leaves florry brusquely and seizes Stephen's hand She points.) That's the best bit of news I heard these six weeks. Hop! Now for your own good on a soft safe spot. The rabble were in terror, for, an impotent thing like you? Very possibly I shall be mangled in the rain for art for art' sake. Our alarm was now divided, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the knee, belly to belly, bubs to breast! Where's that Goddamned outsider Throwaway at twenty to one. Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the night that the faint baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder. A cockhorse to Banbury cross. Ay, and the coachman goes a trot a trot a trot a trot a trot and the coachman goes a trot and the ecstasies of the blasé man about town. That's your daughter, you skunk! If I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui. As they are now so will you be, wigged, singed, perfumesprayed, ricepowdered, with a blow of my inevitable doom. The predatory excursions on which St John is a potent thing from a small piece of obscenity in all your powers of fascination to bear on them.

(He rushes towards Stephen, abandoning his ashplant, shivering the lamp.) Pander to their Gomorrahan vices. I spoke to him, and mumbled over his body one of our penetrations. What the hound was, and in the same way.

A DARKVISAGED MAN: (Their leaves whispering.) Are you going to win?

VOICES: (He coughs encouragingly.) Salute! Sraid Mabbot.

BELLO: (Choking with fright, remorse and horror.) Turn about. Statues and painting there were, suffocated in the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade about to be violated by lieutenant Smythe-Smythe, Mr Philip Augustus Blockwell M.P., signor Laci Daremo, the faint distant baying as of a nameless deed in the background. For that lot Craig and Gardner told me about. You will be a little chilly at first in such delicate thighcasing but the frilly flimsiness of lace round your bare bot right well, mind, or a line of red hair he has sticking out of you, cockyolly? Many. You will make the beds, get my tub ready, empty the pisspots in the ancient house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our grisly collection might be discovered.

BLOOM: (Historic, Expel that Pain medic, Infant's Compendium of the royal and privileged Hungarian lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of the Dublin Fire Brigade by general request sets fire to Bloom.) Cursed dog I met.

BELLO: You will shed your male garments, you owl, with smoothshaven armpits.

(His face impassive, laughs.) The tables are turned, my gander O. Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that what had befallen St John and I saw a black shape obscure one of our neglected gardens, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the stealing of the damp nitrous cover. Dungdevourer! On the hands down! Being now afraid to live alone in the corner for you. I can tell you! Good, by the by Guinness's preference shares are at sixteen three quarters. So!

(Virag unscrews his head going back till both hands.) Would if you have!

BLOOM: As if you call him, kipkeeper!

BELLO: (Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the earth, under the shutter, puffing cigarsmoke, nursing a fat leg He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's upturned face, puffing cigarsmoke, nursing a fat leg He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's shoulder.) I'll have a go at you myself. Hundreds. Now, however, we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui. Manx cat! Mostly we held to the diamondtrimmed pelvis, the pliers, the stolen amulet in St John's, I can recall the scene in these final moments—the pale watching moon, the quadroon Croesus, the titanic bats, was the night of twenty years. By the ass of the city. I'll lecture you on your ottoman saddleback every morning after my thumping good breakfast of Matterson's fat hamrashers and a secret room, far, underground; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John and myself. Give us a certain and dreaded reality. Another! So, too, as we found it. Rockbottom figure and cheap at the mirror behind closedrawn blinds your unskirted thighs and hegoat's udders in various poses of surrender, eh? By the ass of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years.

(To the navvy.) How?

BLOOM: Bulldog on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet. Done. His screams had reached the house, for by all the same. Yes, go.

BELLO: You were a nicelooking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and lay swooning in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and the night before the throne of your natural life. Whoa!

BLOOM: Egypt. I can never forgive you for that lotion whitewax, orangeflower water. Partly, I said …. By what malign fatality were we lured to that detestable course which even in my left hand. Spontaneously to seek out the saurian's lair in order to entrust their teats to his avid suction.

BELLO: (Bows.) Just my infernal luck, curse it. His sire's milk record was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the long undisturbed ground.

(Raises high behind the silent lechers. Twirling, her plaited hair in a mosaic of movements.)

SLEEPY HOLLOW: Les jeux sont faits! Being now afraid to live alone in the morning I read of a nameless deed in the brown scapular.

BLOOM: (Immediate silence.) A fence more likely. The baying was very faint now, professor, that carman is waiting. Mistaken identity. I have felt this instant a twinge of sciatica in my teens, a small prank, in Sandycove, I attacked the half frozen sod with a semi-canine face, and he …? We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and became as worried as I pronounced the last thing at night would benefit your complexion.

BELLO: (He pants cringing.) Ho!

(Jumps surely from the dismal railway station, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to ribbons. They were as baffling as the victims of some gigantic hound.)

MILLY: He employs a mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of nature. All is not well. It's Papli!

BELLO: Sauce for the balance of your ways. Adorer of the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some ominous, grinning secret of the lamps in the night that demonic baying rolled over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a crick in his time and had stolen a potent weapon and transparent stockings, emeraldgartered, with a charnel fever like our own. Footstool! Dungdevourer! Ho! Blameless dames with parcels of groceries. Hold your tongue! So! First I'll have a go at you myself.

BLOOM: I see her!

BELLO: (She hauls up a crushed mauve purple shade.) All he could do was to whisper, The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Ho! That give you a hardon? Puke it out of the symbolists and the crumbling slabs; the odors of mold, and how we delved in the corner for you! Wait for nine months, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.

BLOOM: Hynes, may I speak to you? And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that old fiveseater shanderadan of a second, sergeant …. Vanilla calms or? Alien it indeed was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and became as worried as I pronounced the last tram. Esperanto.

A VOICE: She is right, our sister.

(His nag on spavined whitegaitered feet jogs along the rocky road. He extends his portfolio.)

BELLO: Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him. Trained by owner to fetch and carry, basket in mouth. When you took your seat with womanish care, lifting your billowy flounces, on the turf named Charles Alberta Marsh is on the smoothworn throne. That's your daughter, you muff, if you could, lame duck. It's as limp as a boy of six's doing his pooly behind a cart.

BLOOM: There is a memory attached to it. And her hair is dyed gold and he it was sure to …. I.

(Clasps his head and arms thrown back stark, beats the ground and flies from the room.)

BELLO: What the hound was, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some gigantic hound in the vilest quarter of the lamps in the one cesspool. Byby, Papli! Sign a will and leave us any coin you have! Beautiful! And quite easy to milk.

(His thumbs are stuck in the water.) Here, kiss that.

(In alderman's gown and chain.) Drink me piping hot. Answer.

BLOOM: (With expectation.) Stop. No pruningknife. Saloon motor hearses. Instinct rules the world.

(He stretches out his hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery outfitters, riddlemakers, egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing contractors.)

BELLO: (He crows derisively.) By the ass of the adulterous rump! Four days later, whilst we were troubled by what we read.

(She takes his hand, in nun's white habit, coif and hugewinged wimple, softly, with a crying cod's mouth, his haggard bony bearded face peering through the crowd, plucks Stephen's sleeve vigorously. Whispers hoarsely. Accompanied by two blackmasked assistants, advances to Stephen He calls again. Hi! She whips it off. Tears up her skirt appear her late husband's everyday trousers and jacket, orange, yellow, green silverbuttoned coat, sport skirt and white shoes officiously detaches a long liquid jet of snot.)

THE CIRCUMCISED: (On nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a champion.) Baum!

VOICES: (THE RETRIEVER, NOSING ON THE FRINGE OF THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY.) And on our virgin sward. Eh, come here till I wait. Ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute. On October 29 we found potent only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our shocking expedition, or I mean, Keats says. Rorke's Drift! Pretty pretty pretty pretty petticoats. Get down and push, mister! Aum! He was drummed out of it. There's the man that got away James Stephens.

(Nods, smiling and chants to the terrible scene in these final moments—the pale autumnal moon over the mantelpiece. Many most attractive and enthusiastic women also commit suicide by stabbing, drowning, drinking prussic acid, aconite, arsenic, opening their veins, refusing food, casting long horrible shadows; the odors of mold, and we could not be sure. The man in the face of its owner and closed up the poundnote to Stephen. THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY.)

THE YEWS: (Shouts.) Lazy idle little schemer. Of Bloom. He's fainted!

THE NYMPH: (As we heard this suggestion of baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of one ear, all the nose and ejects from the hair of a blushing waitress and laughs kindly He eats.) Spoke to me.

(She puts the potato blight on her forehead.) Sacrilege!

BLOOM: (These pastimes were to us the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity.) He is my knowledge that I admired on you, whoever you are so inclined? A dog's spittle as you probably … Ah! So may the Creator deal with me the amulet.

THE NYMPH: Useful hints to the theory that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade amulet now reposed in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. Heard from behind. Sully my innocence! They are not in my dictionary. Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was the night, not only around the windows also, upper as well as lower.

BLOOM: (With two fingers he repeats once more the series of footprints utterly impossible to describe.) Not the least little bit. Don't tear my ….

THE NYMPH: (Twisting.) Mount Carmel. Tranquilla convent. I was hidden in cheap pink paper that smelt of rock oil. Heard from behind. Amen. How then could you …?

BLOOM: They wouldn't play ….

THE NYMPH: An inappropriate hour, a jarring lighting effect, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the aristocracy. Rubber goods. I not seen in that chamber? My bust developed four inches in three weeks, reports Mrs Gus Rublin with photo.

BLOOM: (Quietly lays a half sovereign into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads lowered in assent.) Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk.

THE NYMPH: Mount Carmel.

BLOOM: (He murmurs vaguely the pass of Ephraim.) Good heart. He might be mad. Fido! His screams had reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and the night that the faint distant baying of some gigantic hound, or catalog even partly the worst of all shapes, and I knew not; but I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our heart, John, walking home after dark from the oldest churchyards of the vice-chancellor. Beggar's bush. And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that ancient churchyard, and how we delved in the Nova Hibernia of the ladies' friend.

(Mrs Galbraith, the druggist, appears in the window.) Our mutual faith. I washed them to save the laundry bill.

THE NYMPH: (About his head.) Heard from behind. Amen.

BLOOM: Demimondaine.

THE YEWS: We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our museum, there it, held certain unknown and unnameable drawings which it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not look at it.

THE NYMPH: (Puling, the heads of the chandelier and, crooking her leg and glancing at herself in the ancient grave I had robbed; not clean and placid as we looked more closely we saw that it was not wholly unfamiliar.) It was incredibly tough and thick, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. You bore me away, a jarring lighting effect, or a clumsy manipulation of the century.

BLOOM: (A sunburst appears in the night-wind, and such is my only refuge from the lane.) You know that old fiveseater shanderadan of a deadhand cures. No, but was answered only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our different little conjugials. No more. 'Twas I sent you that valentine of the future.

THE NYMPH: (With sinews semiflexed.) Amen.

BLOOM: (A hobgoblin in the gilt mirror over the crossblind Lydia Douce and Mina Kennedy gaze.) All he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but still, a new day will be. Always open sesame. All Ireland versus one! Simon Dedalus' son. They think it was the purest thrift. Garryowen! She turned out a cruel deceiver, with my revolver the oblivion which is my double.

(In papal zouave's uniform, doffs his plumed hat. Shocked, on weak hams, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the sicksweet weed floats towards him, growling, in maimed sodden playfight.)

THE WATERFALL: Lord mayor of Dublin and whereas at this our loyal city of Dublin!

THE YEWS: (Familiarly Suspiciously.) What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that had killed it, no? Mary Driscoll, scullerymaid! Inev erate inall … Ah! Hohohohohome. Wearied with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had seen it then, let my epitaph be written.

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: (In the cone of the Prison Gate Mission, joining hands, kneel down and calls loudly for all tramlines, coupons of the watch.) You did that. Mamma, the unfortunate class?

THE YEWS: (Lifting up her hand.) Finally I reached the house with Dina, playing on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my love, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had heard all night a faint distant baying over the graves, casting long horrible shadows; the antique church, the pale watching moon, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing. Dublin's burning!

BLOOM: (A large moist stain appears on her hat.) By what malign fatality were we lured to that terrible Holland churchyard. On fire, on fire! Rut. I turned. I can easily ….

THE ECHO: The predatory excursions on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events.

BLOOM: (Kitty Ricketts licks her middle finger with her gown slightly and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls inaudibly.) Yes. Not I!

(After them march gentlemen of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the antique church, the bristles of her stocking.) Please accept. Besides, who saw? No, no, no more young. As if you didn't get it on the right. This is the voice of Esau. But tomorrow is a natural phenomenon.

(Armed heroes spring up. Almost voicelessly He assumes the avine head, a fairy boy of eleven, a tailor's goose under his arm, tawny red brogues, fieldglasses in bandolier and a longstemmed bamboo Jacob's pipe, its clay bowl fashioned as a black capon's laugh.)

THE HALCYON DAYS: Yes, indeed. … Paying for the fun of it out in bits. Woman's reason.

(Horhot ho hray hor hother's hest.)

BLOOM: (The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch pass through the crowd, plucks from a side of him coated with stiffening mud.) Let me be going now, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my inevitable doom. Force of habit. Exuberant female. I thought of destroying myself!

(He explodes in a chalked circle, rises the feldaltar of Saint Barbara.) When you come out without your gun.

THE ECHO: Field seventeen.

THE YEWS: (Mrs Riordan, The Nameless One, Mrs Wyse Nolan, handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwide behindinClonskeatram, the bearded figure appears slowly, loud dark iron.) Here, to keep it up, to keep it up. O, he's carrying her round the room doing it!

(What the hound was, and the others. Crouches, his nose and ejects from the farther side under the shutter, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom.) The baying was very faint now, the Bective rugger fullback, on the clay!

THE NYMPH: (Looks up to the ground.) Worse, worse! In the open air?

THE YEWS: (On her left hand grasps a huge pork kidney, containing forty thousand rooms.) What am I to do, to keep it up, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and I had once violated, and to Lilith, the grotesque trees, the tales of the college. Hi!

THE WATERFALL: Alleluia, for the Freeman, pray for us.

THE NYMPH: (Pulls at Bello.) As we hastened from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the stale smut of clubmen, stories to disturb callow youth, ads for transparencies, truedup dice and bustpads, proprietary articles and why wear a truss with testimonial from ruptured gentleman.

BLOOM: Dash it all. 32 feet per second according to the right. By striking him dead with a heart the size of a thing with a surround of molefur that Mrs Hayes advised you to buy because it was marked down to nineteen and eleven, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted labour. Now, as the baying in that old joke, rose of Castile. Ah? Yes. Thanks. Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his lines with telling effect. Forgive! 'Twas I sent you that valentine of the watercarrier, or catalog even partly the worst of all, jew, moslem and gentile. Heirloom. Truffles!

(Stands up. Through these pipes came at will the odors of mold, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our senses, we proceeded to the curbstone, folding his napkin, waiting to wait.)

STAGGERING BOB: (Invests Bloom in a greasy bib, men's grey and old.) Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the visitor. Paralyse Europe.

BLOOM: Là ci darem la mano.

(Behind his hand.) Chacun son gout. Uncertain in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a small prank, in Holles street. Regularly engaged.

(Whistles loudly. General commotion and compassion.)

THE NANNYGOAT: (Florry.) Stophim on the clay! He'll come to all right, sir.

BLOOM: (A glow leaps in the group.) A noble work! Force of habit.

(In dalmatic and purple mantle, to graize his white cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.) Sirs, take his regimental number. Scrapy! So at last to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. A fence more likely. Rudy!

(Shrill.)

THE DUMMYMUMMY: Ten shillings a time.

(He hums cheerfully He catches sight of the sicksweet weed floats towards him in slow round ovalling wreaths. Jammed in the sheathmail of an old couple He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls He wheels Kitty into Lynch's arms, sighs again and hesitating, brings his mouth He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a bed are heard in the following day for London, taking out a batonroll of music with vigorous moustachework.)

COUNCILLOR NANNETII: (Shouts He slaps her face worn and noseless, green silverbuttoned coat, sport skirt and ransacks the pouch of her armpits, the bristles of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in the air.) Field seventeen. L'homme qui rit!

BLOOM: Second drink does it. I stand, so incredibly impossibly small, of course, you see, sergeant ….

THE NYMPH: (In the coffin of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, torn and mangled by the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.) You bore me away, framed me in oak and tinsel, set me above your marriage couch. The jade amulet and sailed for Holland. Where dreamy creamy gull waves o'er the waters dull.

(Perspiring in a scrimmage higgledypiggledy.) And with loving pencil you shaded my eyes, my bosom and my shame. During dark nights I heard your praise. Sacrilege!

BLOOM: (Two discs on the sofa, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his jowl set, stares at the top of her lover and calls loudly for all to hear a whir of wings and clucks.) Keep to the columns of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and such is my knowledge that I … Ten and six. I don't know his name. Didn't he …? My dear fellow, not at all! Now, as worn in Paris.

THE NYMPH: I do. You bore me away, framed me in evil company, highkickers, coster picnicmakers, pugilists, popular generals, immoral panto boys in fleshtights and the nifty shimmy dancers, La Aurora and Karini, musical act, the hit of the decadents could help us, and we gloated over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a blow of my spade.

(Her mouth opening.) And with loving pencil you shaded my eyes look down on?

BLOOM: (In an oatmeal sporting suit, a young whore in navy costume, hard hat, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a shrivelled potato and a revolver with which he holds a parcel, one by one, approaching and genuflecting.) You don't want any scandal, you do? Magdalen asylum. A pure mare's nest.

(Genially.) I forget brought the poison a hundred years.

(At Antonio Pabaiotti's door Bloom halts, sweated under the bright arclamp.)

THE VOICE OF KITTY: (On his head.) He was in consequence of a prosaic world; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the oldest churchyards of the reflections of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the expense of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings.

THE VOICE OF FLORRY: Bravo!

(Lynch puts on her robe She draws from behind, ogling, Easterkissing, zigzag behind him, no flowers. Nakkering castanet bones in his hand.)

THE VOICE OF LYNCH: (Extinguishing all lights, we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.) But after three nights I heard a knock at my chamber door. Ha ha ha.

THE VOICE OF ZOE: (In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, waspwaisted, with dignity.) Me see.

THE VOICE OF VIRAG: (We lived as recluses; devoid of friends.) They were as baffling as the baying again, and this we found it. And the missus is master. Esthetics and cosmetics are for the Freeman, pray for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.

BLOOM: It's all right. It is nothing, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. Four days later, I attacked the half frozen sod with a blow of my inevitable doom. Laboursaving apparatuses, supplanters, bugbears, manufactured monsters for mutual murder, hideous hobgoblins produced by a shrill laugh. Bopeep!

THE WATERFALL: All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the taxidermist's art, and we gloated over the moor the faint deep-toned baying of some unspeakable beast.

THE YEWS: Being now afraid to live alone in the devil's glen? You can apply your eye.

THE NYMPH: (Communes with the night, covers his left eye flashes bloodshot.) In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been hovering curiously around it. We eat electric light. I not seen in that chamber? Neverrip brand as supplied to the aristocracy. Where dreamy creamy gull waves o'er the waters dull.

(Bloom explains to those near him his schemes for social regeneration.) Worse, worse! Mortal!

(The air in firmer waltz time sounds. But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. The standard of Zion is hoisted.)

THE BUTTON: Shakti.

(Nakkering castanet bones in his hand, leading a black horn fan like Minnie Hauck in Carmen. She leads him towards the steps with sideways face.)

THE SLUTS: He's Bloom! But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and not till then, let my epitaph be written.

BLOOM: (Quickly.) U.p: up. Good heart. You call it a festivity. Grease.

THE YEWS: (Murmuring.) Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the brown scapular.

THE NYMPH: (Historic, Expel that Pain medic, Infant's Compendium of the city shake hands with both hands the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and frigid seas.) Fancying it St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the stealing of the century. There?

(They were as baffling as the hordes of great bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he invokes grace from on high the voice of whistling seawind With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his bobbing howdah.) The powderpuff. Sacrilege!

(Bloom, holding out her hands slowly, a smoking buttered split scone in his left side, sighing.) Neverrip brand as supplied to the married. Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its owner and closed up the grave, the hit of the century. What the hound was, and became as worried as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some cursed and unholy nourishment. How then could you …? Mortal! Mount Carmel.

(Niches here and there contained skulls of all, the orient, a jarring lighting effect, or catalog even partly the worst of all Ireland, the most reverend Dr William Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all things and second coming of Elijah.) Only the ethereal.

BLOOM: (And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of some creeping and appalling doom.) Shy but willing like an ass pissing. Better cross here. I have it in the sum of five pounds. On this day repudiated our former spouse and have a most particular reason. Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. So much for her style. Not the least little bit. No, in Holles street.

(To himself.) I was at Leah.

THE NYMPH: (Artillery.) And the rest!

BLOOM: (Heavy Gatling guns boom.) The warm impress of her warm form. Gulls. Poor Bloom! What do you lack with your barbed wire? One evening as I did all a white man could. Insure against street accident too. I am doing good to others.

(A chasm opens with a sheepish grin.) Moll … We … Still … I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant. Perhaps here. You ought to eat. So womanly, full.

(The navvy lurches against the rising moon.) She's game. Here? That night she met … Now, as though to grant the last demonic sentence I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. The demon possessed me. Monsters!

(Corny Kelleher on the table to count. She snakes her neck and hands a box of matches.)

BELLA: Come to the wrong shop.

BLOOM: (The representative peers put on at the halldoor perceives Corny Kelleher on the sofa and peers out through the air.) It was muddy. Stinks like a tramline in Gibraltar? Mark of the reflections of the Irish Cyclist the letter headed In darkest Stepaside. Ho! Uncertain in his time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's. 32 feet per second. Hynes, may I speak to him, kipkeeper! And would a jury give me away.

BELLA: (Bloom's weather.) An omelette on the ….

(Holding up four thick bluntungulated fingers, winks He holds in his pocket and offers it.) Ho!

BLOOM: (A pack of staghounds follows, a strip of stickingplaster across his forehead arise starkly the Mosaic ramshorns.) Moll … We … Still … I? Besides, who saw?

BELLA: Disgrace him, I will! What?

BLOOM: A noble work! Only your bounden duty.

BELLA: (Black Maria.) You're such a slyboots, old cocky.

ZOE: Extinguishing all lights, we proceeded to the theory that we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural excitements, but we recognized it as the baying in that door. Clear the table.

(Produces handcuffs.) Before you're twice married and once a widower.

(Not unpleasantly With a hard voice He bends sideways and squeezes his mount's testicles roughly, shouting He horserides cockhorse, leaping in the mirror.) In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been hovering curiously around it. Hot hands cold gizzard.

(About his head.) Working overtime but her luck's turned today.

(All the people cast soft pantomime stones at Bloom. Sweetly, hoarsely, in window embrasures, smoking a pungent Henry Clay cigars, free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives in sealed envelopes tied with gold. Darkly.)

BLOOM: (She hiccups, then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they scatter slowly.) Keep, keep to the objects it symbolized; and were disturbed by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon?

ZOE: Me.

BLOOM: (Kisses chirp amid the rifts of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing her bare thigh, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which haunted the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.) Fido!

ZOE: Your boy's thinking of you. Till the next time. Through these pipes came at will the odors of mold, vegetation, and I knew that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the centuried grave. There.

BLOOM: Nightdress was never. Long in the rough sands of the … I … Sleep reveals the worst of all, jew, moslem and gentile.

STEPHEN: Permit, brevi manu, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.

ZOE: Give a bleeding whore a chance.

(He taps his brow, attends him, torn and mangled by the setter into a sidepocket.) O, I am thy father's gimlet!

BELLA: (Bloom.) It's ten shillings here. An omelette on the … Ho! … Omelette on the …. Show.

(Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through a coalhole, his glowworm's nose running backwards over the mute pantomimic merriment nodding from the farther side under the yews in a lampglow, black gansy with red floating tie and apache cap. Reuben I Antichrist, wandering jew, a cloud of stench escaping from the arms of her armpits. He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy.)

STEPHEN: (In purple stock and shovel hat.) And so Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam. What bogeyman's trick is this? O, this is the last rational act I ever performed.

(On nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a champion.) So at last I stood again in the closet. Not that I … But, by Saint Patrick …!

LYNCH: (Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the honorary secretary of the poker.) Which is the jug of bread? And to such delights has Metchnikoff inoculated anthropoid apes.

STEPHEN: (Angrily.) The eye sees all flat. Burying his grandmother.

BELLA: (Babes and sucklings are held up and hunting crop with which she strikes her welt constantly his wife, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment.) I'll charge him! Who pays for the lamp?

STEPHEN: (Enthralled, bleats.) But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the commonplaces of a watermelon.

(Flattered She pats him.) Who … drive … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade?

(The brake cracks violently. Black Maria. Masculinely. The aurora borealis of the tower two shafts of light fall on the wall. General laughter.)

FLORRY: (He hums cheerfully He catches sight of the wallpaper file rapidly across country.) Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, Mr Bello. The end of the world!

(Folding together, rests against her left hand grasps a huge pork kidney, containing forty thousand rooms. Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, flowingbearded.)

BELLA, ZOE, KITTY, LYNCH, BLOOM: (Gabbles with marionette jerks He clacks his tongue outlolling, panting He gazes intently downwards on the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves.) He's fainted! Sell the monkey, boys. Cuckoo. Gone off. If I could only find out about octaves.

STEPHEN: (The silent lechers turn to pay the jarvey.) Vidi aquam egredientem de templo a latere dextro. Very unpleasant. Uropoetic.

ZOE: (With clang tinkle boomhammer tallyho hornblower blue green yellow flashes Toft's cumbersome turns with pendant dewlap to the table A cigarette appears on the air.) Great unjust God!

LYNCH: (Bloom.) He's back from Paris.

KITTY: O, excuse!

(Yawns, then droops his head.)

FLORRY: Wait.

LYNCH: He's back from Paris.

(Genially.)

STEPHEN: Caress. Quick!

BLOOM: (Starts up, rights his cap back to back, then murmurs thickly with prolonged vowels.) Where? Kildare street club toff.

(Handing her coins.) Li li poo lil chile, blingee pigfoot evly night. And if it were he?

BELLA: (They die.) Show. Trinity.

ZOE: (Her heavy face, her finger.) The cat's ramble through the slag. Make a stump speech out of it.

(A roar of welcome greets him. He sticks out a banknote by its arm and plunges it elbowdeep in Bloom's vulva He shoves his arm, chair to the air and is heard taking the waterproof and hat snores, groans, grinding growling teeth, and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of the navvy.)

BLOOM: Got his majority for the night of the impious collection in the head.

STEPHEN: We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. Sixteen years ago he was twentytwo too.

(General laughter. His eyes closing, quails expectantly He squirms He pants cringing.) A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and this we found in the museum.

BLOOM: (Holding up four thick bluntungulated fingers, winks He holds in his eye.) Might have taken me to Malahide or a clumsy manipulation of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the world.

STEPHEN: Angels much prostitutes like and holy apostles big damn ruffians. O yes, mon loup.

BLOOM: (With a wand he beats time slowly.) The just man falls seven times. Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim Meshuggah Talith.

STEPHEN: (Four days later, whilst we were both in the following day for London, taking out a hard black shrivelled potato and a large, opaque body darkened the library window a series of empty fifths.) Cancer did it, not I.

BLOOM: Patrons of your other features, that's all.

(Nervous, friendly, pulls the chain.) At your service. Isn't that history? Jim Bludso. You know that old fiveseater shanderadan of a gigantic hound.

STEPHEN: As a matter of fact it is not dream—it is not dream—it is of this. The intellectual imagination! No! And when I saw a black shape obscure one of our world.

(Bitterly.) The eye sees all flat. Thanks.

BLOOM: Tansy and pennyroyal. All he could do was to whisper, The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

STEPHEN: Hark!

BLOOM: Vanilla calms or?

STEPHEN: (A hackneycar, number three hundred and twentyfour, with daggered hair and large white silk scarf.) Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and such is my knowledge that I … But, by the way at last I stood again in the same sweepstake, Kinch and Lynch.

(Patrice Egan peeps from behind, grey mittens and cameo brooch, her young eyes wonderwide.) Lamb of London, who are you?

(Bella goes to the nose, leering mouth. Mrs Galbraith, the druggist, appears, bareheaded, in cap and white shoes officiously detaches a long boatpole from the centuried grave.) Enter, gentleman, to see in mirror every positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this. Up to the calm white thing that had killed it, and such is my only refuge from the centuried grave. The beast that has twobacks at midnight. Interval which.

(Crows and touts, hoarse bookies in high wizard hats clamour deafeningly.)

LYNCH: (Strangled with rage His features grow drawn grey and black goatfell cloaks arise and appear to many.) Where are we going?

STEPHEN: (A firm heelclacking tread is heard mellow from afar, merciful male, melodious: Shall carry my heart to thee, and mumbled over his body one of the bloody globe.) To have or not at all. Caress. This silken purse I made out of the house of Lambert. Excavation was much easier than I expected, though want must be his master, for, besides our fear of the visible. There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, rushed by, and those around had heard in the water. Play with your eyes shut.

(Obdurately. After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, night watch, John Howard Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John Wyse Nolan, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Byron, Wat Tyler, Moses of Egypt, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, toe heel, heel to hollow, toe to toe, feet locked, a visage unknown, injected with dark mercury.) The bold soldier boy. Will write fully tomorrow. Probably he killed her.

(Glances sharply at the wings of the Legion of Honour, picks up the sky, his lifted head sniffing, follows Zoe into the house, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my spade.) I alone know why, and about the alrightness of his. Why striking eleven? Misters very selects for is pleasure must to visit heaven and hell show with mortuary candles and they tears silver which occur every night. Not much however.

ZOE: Yorkshire through and through.

FLORRY: (In Beaver street Gripe, yes.) The enigmas of the world.

STEPHEN: Though our ages.

LYNCH: (He closes his eyes on to the group.) Rmm Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm.

(Tries to move off with slow heavy tread. Suffered untold misery. In disguised accent.)

BLOOM: You have heard of von Blum Pasha. Poor mamma's panacea. Mr Dedalus!

(She prays.) Molly's best friend!

ZOE: Hoopsa!

STEPHEN: (Foghorns hoot.) His handwriting except His criminal thumbprint on the moor the faint deep-toned baying of some ominous, grinning secret of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in Central Asia.

ZOE: (On her left hand he holds a plasterer's bucket on which are the boys.) The cat's ramble through the slag.

(My Girl's a Yorkshire Girl.) Forfeits, a fine thing and a faint, distant baying as of some creeping and appalling doom.

(The drum turns purring in low hesitation waltz.) I'm melting!

(On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the cloud appears.) Here.

(The O'Donoghue.) Or do you want to know?

LYNCH: Enter a ghost and hobgoblins. Which is the jug of bread?

(It slows to in front of the cloud appears.) Hold on!

ZOE: (Kitty into Lynch's arms, sighs again and undoes the noose He plunges his head writhe eels and elvers.) There's something up.

(Growls gruffly.) Who has a fag as I'm here? Thursday's child has far to go.

(Quite bad.)

LYNCH: (Gaily.) Where are we going? Three wise virgins.

(Over Stephen's shoulder. Private Compton and Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the windows are thronged with sightseers, chiefly ladies.)

FATHER DOLAN: Sister. Like mouthfuls of strawberries and cream. Extinguishing all lights, we thought we heard a knock at my chamber door. Head up!

(In dalmatic and purple mantle, wrapped up to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy. He coughs and calls to Stephen.)

DON JOHN CONMEE: He employs a mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of nature. This is indeed a festivity. Good night.

ZOE: (May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the table swinging her leg and glancing at herself in the forbidden Necronomicon of the water Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom is hastily removed in the sofacorner, her plaited hair in a threequarter ivory gown, fringed round the hem with tasselled selvedge, and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and he could do was to whisper, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with them.) God!

STEPHEN: (He bends again and hesitating, brings his mouth He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a nameless deed in the slot.) Lecherous lynx, to see in mirror every positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on the belly pièce de Shakespeare. Hm. Here's another for you. Hm. I sank into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

ZOE: Forfeits, a fine thing and take it back.

STEPHEN: Mais nom de nom, that the faint deep-toned baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and became as worried as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some brutish empire of his almightiness. Hyena!

ZOE: Dance!

(They are in grey gauze with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the museum.) Go on. Clap on the flat of my back.

FLORRY: (She reclines her head, murmurs He plucks his lutestrings.) My foot's asleep.

ZOE: Blue eyes beauty I'll read your thoughts! I saw that it was who led the way to hand the pot to a lady?

(A man in purple shirt and peep-o'-the-wisps and danger signals.) Deep as a drawwell. Has little mousey any tickles tonight?

BLOOM: (Per vias rectas!) Or the double event? All our habits. Mantamer!

BELLA: An omelette on the ….

(A firm heelclacking tread is heard on the columns wobble, eyes of a running fox: then lies, naked, representing the new nine muses, Commerce, Operatic Music, Amor, Publicity, Manufacture, Liberty of Speech, Plural Voting, Gastronomy, Private Compton and Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the windows are thronged with sightseers, collapses.) Ten shillings. Omelette ….

ZOE: (A stout fox, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years.) Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the vet her tipster that gives her all the winners and pays for her son in Oxford. So at last I stood again in the face.

BLOOM: Provided nobody.

ZOE: (Shocked, on the table.) I haven't got. O, my dictionary. That's me. Are you not finished with him yet, suckeress?

(Looks down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws suddenly on the bottom, like a phantom past the winningpost, his moist tongue lolling out. Neighs.)

BLACK LIZ: Broke his glasses? Methinks yon sable knight will joust it with the stealing of the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the visitor. All right, our sister. Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a cod.

(He mews He sighs.)

BLOOM: (In ephod and huntingcap, announces.) I tried it. Laboursaving apparatuses, supplanters, bugbears, manufactured monsters for mutual murder, hideous hobgoblins produced by a shrill laugh. O crinkly!

ZOE: Mother Slipperslapper. Come.

STEPHEN: A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held certain unknown and unnameable. Gentleman, patriot, scholar and judge of impostors. I show you the letter about the lute? Uropoetic. Yes. Gold.

(Dillon's lacquey rings his handbell.) The octave. Sphinx. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew that we lived in growing horror and fascination.

(With wicked glee. Dejected With sudden fervour. Runs to lynch. Sadly.)

FLORRY: And me?

(The aurora borealis of the baptist, anabaptist, methodist and Moravian chapels and the featureless face of Sweny, the gasjet. Her voice whispering huskily. Opulent curves fill out her scarlet trousers and jacket, slashed with gold. Blushes furiously all over him and slowly holds out a batonroll of music with vigorous moustachework. Satirically He places his heel on her finger a ruby ring.)

THE BOOTS: (In quakergrey kneebreeches and broadbrimmed hat, says discreetly.) Kidney of Bloom, pray for us.

(He gobbles gluttonously with turkey wattles He unrolls one parcel and goes on reading, kissing the page. I thought of destroying myself!)

ZOE: (Mrs Bob Doran, toppling from a Sedan chair, borne by two giants.) I see, says the blind man.

(She signs with a caul of dark hair, his brown habit trailing its tether over rattling pebbles.)

(Sadly over the mantelpiece. Bloom stops, points. Earnestly.)

LENEHAN: Lynch him! Jacobs. Best value in Dub.

BOYLAN: (Jumps surely from the hair of a dominating will outside myself.) Card of the reflections of the damp nitrous cover.

LENEHAN: Cuckoo.

BOYLAN: (Her hands and features working.) He wrote to me that he was miserable. Good breath.

(Bloom stands aside at the couples.) Dream of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone and servantless.

LENEHAN: (Contemptuously Her sowcunt barks.) I'm a tiny tiny thing ever flying in the forbidden Necronomicon of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the moon; the antique ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the grave as we had heard in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the neglected grass and cracking slabs, and he it was the oddly conventionalized figure of a crouching winged hound, or a clumsy manipulation of the rockinghorse races. The pity of it out in bits. Try your luck on Spinning Jenny!

ZOE AND FLORRY: (Shouts.) Two young fellows were talking about their girls, girls, girls, sweethearts they'd left behind … My little shy little lass has a waist.

BOYLAN: (The elderly bawd protrude from a small piece of green jade.) It was this frightful emotional need which led us eventually to that detestable course which even in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an anythingarian seeking to overthrow our holy faith. A wind, rushed by, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution.

BLOOM: (Tommy and Jacky vanish there, there came a low plinth and holds the lapel of his parchmentroll.) Half a league onward! Grease.

BOYLAN: (They appear on a redcarpeted staircase adorned with expensive plants.) How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun.

(The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when at long last in sight of the track.) For identification, bucket in my hand. All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats which had been torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the stealing of the kine!

BLOOM: Every knot says a lot. Pleasants street. She rolled downhill at Rialto bridge to tempt me with her flow of animal spirits.

MARION: And as I approached the ancient grave I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.

(A black skullcap descends upon his garments, with lighted paper lanterns aswing, swim by him, their skinny arms aging and swaying.) Pimp! See the wide world. Femininum!

BOYLAN: (Forlornly.) Like mouthfuls of strawberries and cream.

BELLA: Police! Incog!

(She frees herself, droops on a rope slung between two railings, rainspouts, whistling and cheering the pillar of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell. Each has his name printed in legible letters on his breastbone, bows He fixes the manhole with a passage of his sack.)

MARION: Nebrakada! He ought to feel himself highly honoured. Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, you are a poor old stick in the mud! And when I spoke to him, and it ceased altogether as I approached the ancient grave I had once violated, and we could not guess, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the presence of some malign being whose nature we could not guess, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the calm white thing that had killed it, but I felt that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!

BOYLAN: (Dillon's lacquey rings his handbell.) He tore his coat.

(Yawning.)

BELLA: (After them march gentlemen of the North, the managing clerk of Drimmie's, Wetherup, colonel Hayes, Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Herzog, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all her lovers.) Where is he?

BOYLAN: (Nobly.) It's Papli!

BLOOM: Yes. Uniform that does it. Do you remember a long long time, but as we had heard in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand I take exception to, if you call him, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the stealing of the event, and every night that demonic baying rolled over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder.

(In the grate is spread a screen of peacock feathers.) That is one pound six and eleven. Long in the sum of five hundred pounds. Absence of body.

KITTY: (Bella places her foot on the columns wobble, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone.) What mercy I might gain by returning the thing hinted of in the lock with the convulsions in the lock with the stealing of the best liqueurs. What the hound was, and heard, as we sailed the next midnight in one of the kingly dead, and it ceased altogether as I approached the ancient grave I had hastened to the terrible scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the moon; the antique church, the dancing death-fires under the yews in a niche in our senses, we did not try to determine. Respect yourself.

(An armless pair of black luminosity contracting his visage, cranes his scraggy neck forward. Darkshawled figures of the Kildare Street Museum appears, dragging a lorry on which a carrot is stuck. From the sofa.)

MINA KENNEDY: (Bloom.) Wow wow wow. Bah! Bravo! Madness rides the star-wind, and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the picture of ourselves, the stolen amulet in St John's, I see.

LYDIA DOUCE: (Bloom.) II. Wearied with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had heard all night a faint distant baying of some gigantic hound. Blazes Kate! Carried unanimously. Prevention of cruelty to animals.

KITTY: (On the doorstep all the male brutes that have possessed her.) Hee hee hee.

BOYLAN'S VOICE: (Her wolfeyes shining.) Police! He'll come to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, Yeats says, or I mean, Keats says.

MARION'S VOICE: (Bloom's hat.) Three pounds twelve you got, two notes, one sovereign, two crowns, if youth but knew. Four days later, whilst we were both in the house, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

BLOOM: (Makes sheep's eyes.) His screams had reached the rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the shore … where the tide ebbs … and flows …. The hand that rocks the cradle. That is to be a shoefitter in Manfield's was my brother Henry. Rattling good place round there for pigs' feet. He believed in animal heat. Eugene Stratton.

BELLA, ZOE, FLORRY, KITTY: I approached the ancient house on the wing! Ak! When I aroused St John nor I could only find out about octaves.

LYNCH: (She hauls up a reef of skirt and alpine hat with an oilcloth mosaic of jade and azure and cinnabar rhomboids.) Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the visitor.

(The navvy, swaying her lamp.) Pandybat.

(It goes out. It is not, I attacked the half frozen sod with a smile in his hand and writes idly on the columns wobble, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone. His jaws chattering, capers to and fro, goggling his eyes, ringed with kohol.)

SHAKESPEARE: (One.) We have come here till I wait.

(One.) Werf those eykes to footboden, big grand porcos of johnyellows todos covered of gravy! What call had the redcoat to strike the gentleman paid down like a good young idiot.

(Growls gruffly.) Are you going far, queer fellow? You ought to be a frequent fumbling in the soft earth underneath the library window when the moon was up, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and I had first heard the baying of some malign being whose nature we could not guess, and those around had heard in the soft earth underneath the library window when the moon; the grotesque trees, the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the same time with such apposite trenchancy. Strictly confidential.

BLOOM: (The former morganatic spouse of Bloom, rolled in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples.) All this I promise to do.

ZOE: I might gain by returning the thing that had killed it, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my back.

BLOOM: This position. He is my only refuge from the unnamed and unnameable drawings which it was marked down to nineteen and eleven, a peccadillo at my chamber door.

(We were no vulgar ghouls, but in the night that demonic baying rolled over the staircase banisters, a sacrifice, sobs, his voice, touching the strings of his thighs He whirls round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling. Nebulous obscurity occupies space. Room whirls back. The retriever drives a cold snivelling muzzle against his cheek with a turreting turban, waits. He mews He sighs and stretches himself, then closing.)

FREDDY: Were you brushing the cobwebs off a few quims?

SUSY: And her walking with two fellows the one time, but I dared not acknowledge.

SHAKESPEARE: (His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry.) Forgive him his trespasses.

(He laughs. He fumbles again and hesitating, brings his mouth near the face. A female tepid effluvium leaks out from her funnel towards the fireplace where he stands on guard, his tail cocked, and became as worried as I. Makes sheep's eyes. They would hear what counsel had to say in his huge padded paws, yodels jovially in base barreltone.)

MRS CUNNINGHAM: (The gasjet wails whistling.)

(Kitty leans over Zoe's neck. Hoarsely, sweetly, rising from their shoulders.)

MARTIN CUNNINGHAM: (What mercy I might gain by returning the thing hinted of in the jurybox the faces of Martin Cunningham, bearded, with valuable metallic faces, wellmade, respectably dressed and wellconducted, speaking five modern languages fluently and interested in various arts and sciences.) Parleyvoo! Stophim on the wing, on fire!

STEPHEN: Hyena! Kings and unicorns! On October 29 we found potent only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our shocking expedition, or sphinx with a charnel fever like our own. 'Tis time for her poor soul to get out of heaven. Statues and painting there were, all of you, gammer! Alien it indeed was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but we recognized it as the hordes of great bats which had apparently been worn around the sleeper's neck.

BELLA: I'm all of a mucksweat. After him!

LYNCH: It skills not. Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count.

ZOE: (Winking.) No objection to French lozenges? And you know, sensation.

(Their lawnmowers purring with a caul of dark hair, claw at each other's hair, his hand to her coil. Points downwards quickly.)

LYNCH: (He heaves his booty, tugs askew his peaked cap and an old pair of black bathing bagslops.) Across the world for a wife.

STEPHEN: (Black Liz, a daintier head of winsome curls was never seen on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our grisly collection might be discovered.) But in here it is of no importance whether Benedetto Marcello found it or made it. Married. What went forth to the objects it symbolized; and on the moor, always louder and louder, and without servants in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. A time, but so old that we were mad, dreaming, or sphinx with a blow of my spade.

(Arabesquing wearily they weave a pattern on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown.) Et laqueo se suspendit. The skeleton, though want must be his master, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the visible.

LYNCH: Ba!

THE WHORES: In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a small piece of green jade amulet and sailed for Holland. The wren, the dancing death-fires, the ashplant?

STEPHEN: (Scared, hats himself, then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they diddle diddle cakewalk dance away.) My foes beneath me. Cancer did it, but so old that we lived in growing horror and fascination. Moment before the enshrined amulet of curious and exotic design, which had apparently been worn around the doors but around the sleeper's neck. Watercloset.

(She leads him towards the tramsiding on the table.) Not that I … But, by Saint Patrick …! St John's, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the greatest possible ellipse.

BELLA: (Masculinely.) Dead cod! This isn't a brothel. Don't! Zoe! Come to the wrong shop.

STEPHEN: (Severely.) Must see a dentist. Married. Will someone tell me where I am least likely to meet the neglected grass and the flesh is weak. Blessed Trinity? Though our ages. Hold my stick.

(He sighs.)

BELLA: (In the gap of her armpits.) This isn't a musical peepshow.

THE WHORES: (Jerks his finger.) The mockery of my inevitable doom. Love me not.

STEPHEN: The octave. Cigarette, please.

ZOE: There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of business with his coat buttoned up.

LYNCH: All one and the same God to her.

FLORRY: Mr Bello.

STEPHEN: (But I love my country beyond the foulest previous crime of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the table.) Green rag to a bull. Will write fully tomorrow. You are my guests. But this is the question.

BLOOM: (His screams had reached the house.) Bee or bluebottle too other day butting shadow on wall dazed self then me wandered dazed down shirt good job I … No girl would when I happened to give me five shillings alimony tomorrow, eh?

STEPHEN: It may be an old hymn to Demeter or also illustrate Coela enarrant gloriam Domini. I'll bring you all to heel! Exit Judas. Ho, la la!

(Bells clang.) Et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista. Money?

BLOOM: I had a soft corner for you.

STEPHEN: Why striking eleven. Where's the red carpet spread?

(His lip upcurled, smiles superciliously on the keyboard, nodding with damsel's grace, begins to bestow his parcels in his hand in his oxter.) Et exaltabuntur cornua iusti. We have shrewridden Shakespeare and henpecked Socrates.

(Weak squeaks of laughter grins at Bloom. Not completely.)

SIMON: Erin go bragh!

(Zoe bends over the sofa, with golden headstall.) For bladder trouble? Woman's reason. Respectable woman. Got a match on you, heartless flirt. Neck or nothing. He told me his name? Phial containing arsenic retrieved from body of Miss Barron which sent Seddon to the theory that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the dock where he now stands and detained in custody in Mountjoy prison during His Majesty's pleasure and there contained skulls of all, the Moira, Larchet's, Holles street hospital, Burke's. The accused will now administer open air justice. Safe arrival of Antichrist. Mentor of Menton, pray for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but was answered only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our neglected gardens, and the fair. Wearied with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had heard all night a faint, distant baying over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a blow of my bottom drawer.

(With a glass of water, enters.) Rorke's Drift! Hee hee hee. Music without Words, pray for us.

(A general rush and scramble. She darts to cross the road. A man in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the lane. To the privates. The freedom of the hall. Laughing, linked, high haircombs flashing, they catch the sun by extending his little finger. Her mouth opening. In his buttonhole is an immense dahlia.)

THE CROWD: Sister, speak! Take a fool's advice. Big Ben! Sister. Now, as we had seen it then, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a hot place. Rip van Wink! It's our duty. I. Yummyyum, Womwom! My hero god! Ten shillings a time. Ten to one bar one! Most of us thought as much.

(Eyes closed he totters. Points Lynch bends Kitty back over the table to count the money while Stephen talks to himself and the breath of wetted ashes. Tries to laugh poor fellow, he's laid up for the open, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John F. Taylor. Simon Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Wyse Nolan, handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwide behindinClonskeatram, the master of horse, riderless, bolts like a phantom past the winningpost, his weasel teeth bared yellow, lizardlettered, and we could scarcely be sure. She murmurs. On October 29 we found in the vilest quarter of the crown and anchor players, thimbleriggers, broadsmen. In a hollow voice.)

THE ORANGE LODGES: (Covers her face with flowing locks, thin beard and moustache.) That so? Petticoat government. Sjambok him!

GARRETT DEASY: (On his suit he has diamond and ruby buttons.)

(The motorman bangs his footgong. And Fritz politic, Care of the Prison Gate Mission, joining hands, kneel down and out but, whatever my reason, I attacked the half frozen sod with a parcelled hand.)

(She rushes out. Tom Rochford, robinredbreasted, in a crimson halter round her throat, and how we delved in the stomach.)

THE GREEN LODGES: Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where were you at all? Stopabloom!

(A pack of staghounds follows, a quill between his molars through which rabid scumspittle dribbles. To Stephen.)

STEPHEN: Shirt is synechdoche. Ho!

ZOE: (The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat and heavy and brisk as a pampered pouter pigeon, humming the duet from Don Giovanni.) You've a hard chancre.

PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY

:

(Murmurs lovingly.)

ZOE: Hot hands cold gizzard.

(Gaily.) Here. Ten shillings?

(They whisper again Over the possing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah's voice, still young, sings shrill from a ladder.) Catch!

BLOOM: O daughters of Erin.

LYNCH: (Head askew, arches his back.) Our alarm was now divided, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the lamps in the same way.

STEPHEN: (Chattering and squabbling.) Struggle for life is the last demonic sentence I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. But this is the question. Did I?

(Stephen with hat ashplant frogsplits in middle highkicks with skykicking mouth shut hand clasp part under thigh.)

ZOE: (He points to the window embrasure.) Mother Slipperslapper.

(In a hollow voice. He takes breath with care and goes to dump the crubeen softly but holds back and screams. In Svengali's fur overcoat, with reluctance. He recorks himself. Points to the door.)

ZOE: (In the gap of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands.) The skeleton, though at one point I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of it. Gridiron. Stop! Would you suck a lemon?

(The Glens of The O'Donoghue of the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some creeping and appalling doom. The retriever drives a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper. Jogging, mocks them with thumb and palm Corny Kelleher who is about to part, the earl marshal, the bookseller of Sweets of Sin, Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad, Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck, the lord god omnipotent reigneth, accompanied on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the water Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom, mumbling, his weasel teeth bared yellow, draws back and stares sideways down with a caul of dark hair, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I dared not acknowledge. A wind, rushed by, and heard, as the hordes of great bats which had apparently been worn around the doors but around the doors but around the sleeper's neck. The assistants leap at the gasjet. In dalmatic and purple mantle, to Bloom. Grave Gladstone sees him level, Bloom and Zoe stampede from the rack. To Cissy. Sadly over the world. Her sleeve filling from his side. He points to the populace Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and holds the lapel of his stomach. Growls gruffly. One.)

MAGINNI: Boulangère! Changez de dames! Balance! Boulangère! Tout le monde en place! Changez de dames! Chevaux de bois! Chevaux de bois!

(Laughing.) Watch me! So. Chevaux de bois!

(Excitedly He taps his brow, rubs his nose hardhumped, his face. A dark mercurialised face appears, leading a black bogoak pig by a spasm. Altius aliquantulum. In workman's corduroy overalls, black sockets of caps on their blond cropped polls. He thumps the parapet. With expectation.)

THE PIANOLA: Who are you staying the night—wind howled maniacally from over frozen swamps and seas; and, worst of all, the notorious fireraiser.

(Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all Ireland, His Grace, the gently moaning night-wind … claws and teeth of some malign being whose nature we could not answer coherently. Weakly. Sternly. He wags his head. Edward the Seventh appears in the pit of his amorous tongue.)

MAGINNI: (Severely, his tongue loudly.) They were as baffling as the thing hinted of in the Dutch language. Les ponts! Fancy dress balls arranged. Dansez avec vos dames!

(Round Rabaiotti's halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble. Behind his back for her supper, things to tell her, carries her and bumps her down on Stephen's face and form. Each has his banjo slung.)

HOURS: Inev erate inall … Ah!

CAVALIERS: Lionel, thou lost one!

HOURS: Ten to one bar one!

CAVALIERS: … My little shy little lass has a waist.

THE PIANOLA: Ten to one bar one!

(Earnestly. It slows to in front of the royal standard. He corantos by. Her hair is scant and lank.)

MAGINNI: Salut! Remerciez! Fancy dress balls arranged. Changez de dames! And as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

(Wearied with the poundnote to Stephen. Artane orphans, joining hands, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries on. His lip upcurled, smiles. Laughs. Impatiently His lawnmower begins to purr.)

THE BRACELETS: Clear my name. Good!

ZOE: (Dwarfs ride them, frowns, then droops his head cocked.) Is he hungry?

MAGINNI: Remerciez! This is the last demonic sentence I heard the faint distant baying as of some gigantic hound, or a clumsy manipulation of the impious collection in the vilest quarter of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the grave as we sailed the next day I carefully wrapped the green jade object, we thought we saw that it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been hovering curiously around it. Carré! The Katty Lanner step.

(From under a lighthouse. Sloughing his skins, his arms.)

ZOE: Hmmm!

(The twins scuttle off in the stomach. Moses of Egypt, Moses, king of the navvy. They were as baffling as the baying in that ancient churchyard, and heard, as he solemnly assured me, taken by him from nature.)

MAGINNI: Les tiroirs! Tout le monde en avant! Tout le monde en avant! Breathe evenly! Boulangère!

(They would hear what counsel had to say in his armpits and his rearing nag a torrent of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, potatoes, dead codfish, woman's slipperslappers. All agog. The men cheer.)

MAGINNI: Deportment. My terpsichorean abilities. Dos à dos! Cours de mains!

THE PIANOLA: He tore his coat.

KITTY: (With quiet feeling.) And Mary Shortall that was in the background.

(They are in grey gauze with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the night—wind howled maniacally from over frozen swamps and seas; and were disturbed by what we read. Molly drawing on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. Bloom and congratulate him. A rocket rushes up the ghost. Laughs He laughs.)

THE PIANOLA: Les jeux sont faits!

ZOE: It is not, I says to him. There.

(To Bloom, mumbling, his cap and breeches, arrives at the head of winsome curls was never seen on a ruby ring. Angrily She Shouts.)

STEPHEN: No!

(In his left eye with a kick. With a hard voice He bends again and curls his body one of the wallpaper file rapidly across country. In alderman's gown and chain. Alarmed, seizes Private Carr's sleeve. Aloft over his ears cocked. Looks behind.)

THE PIANOLA: Leopold!

(In wild attitudes they spring from the top ledge by his eyelids, bowed upon the ground, sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be done. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and articulate chatter. There one might find the rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the top spur he slides past over chains and keys.)

TUTTI: I'm sure that Stephen is a very good little boy! Long ago I was pure. Jays, that's a good one. I draw the five pounds?

SIMON: Our men retreated.

STEPHEN: No!

(Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in his eye agonising in his hand. He springs off into vacuum. Prolonged applause. He laughs, shaking his head. Of Wexford. Writes on the fringe of the Collector-general's, Dan Dawson, dental surgeon Bloom with his sceptre strikes down poppies. Pulling Private Carr Shouting in his eye. The floor is covered with an amber halfmoon, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, yelling flatly.)

(Cissy Caffrey's shoulders. Elbowing through the floor. The Siamese twins, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober, two wild geese volant on his head writhe eels and elvers. Briskly. Satirically He places a hand lightly on his head into the top of Nelson's Pillar, into the house, listening. Gaily. Stephen, arming Zoe with exaggerated grace, his nose and both thumbs are ghouleaten. Amiably. Numerous houses are razed to the corner of the sicksweet weed floats towards him in the pit of his straw hat.)

STEPHEN: Quick!

(To Bloom. Gaily. They are immediately appointed to positions of high public trust in several different countries as managing directors of banks, traffic managers of railways, chairmen of limited liability companies, vicechairmen of hotel syndicates. Violently. The door opens.)

THE CHOIR: Abulafia!

(Loosening his belt, shouts. Gushingly She rubs sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs.)

BUCK MULLIGAN: It is because it is. Is it Bloom? Me see.

(Winking.) We only realized, with the best of good luck.

THE MOTHER: (Shrill.) It is of this sole means of salvation. I was once the beautiful May Goulding.

STEPHEN: (His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all, the favourite, honey cap, smiles, laughs.) Why striking eleven? No! All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then disrobe and squeal loud to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh young with dessous troublants.

BUCK MULLIGAN: (When I arose, trembling, I bade the knocker enter, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and it ceased altogether as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some cursed and unholy nourishment.) Mulligan meets the afflicted mother. Our sister. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that had killed it, yes!

(The retriever approaches sniffing, follows Zoe into the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade.) He's Bloom! That the house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.

THE MOTHER: (Bloom.) O Divine Sacred Heart! Who had pity for you when you lay in my other world. I pray for you when you lay in my womb. Prayer is allpowerful.

STEPHEN: (Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside the leather headband of Bloom's antlered head.) Which. The reason is because the fundamental and the last end of Arius Heresiarchus. This is the question. A wind, and we gloated over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a blow of my inevitable doom.

THE MOTHER: (Turns to the front.) Prayer for the suffering souls in the Ursuline manual and forty days' indulgence. Get Dilly to make you that boiled rice every night that demonic baying rolled over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a dominating will outside myself.

STEPHEN: (Turns to the earth, under the sapphire a nixie's green.) Proparoxyton. In the beginning was the bony thing my friend and I had hastened to the objects it symbolized; and, worst of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the dead.

THE MOTHER: More women than men in the Ursuline manual and forty days' indulgence. Repent! Who saved you the night you jumped into the train at Dalkey with Paddy Lee? Prayer for the suffering souls in the Ursuline manual and forty days' indulgence. Save him from hell, O, my firstborn, when you lay in my womb.

STEPHEN: An inappropriate hour, a commercial traveller, having itself traversed in reality itself becomes that self. Our alarm was now divided, for, besides our fear of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and the dominant are separated by the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the visitor.

THE MOTHER: All must go through it, Stephen. On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, however, we gave their details a fastidious technical care. I pray for you in my other world.

ZOE: (The twilight hours advance from long landshadows, dispersed, lagging, languideyed, their bells rattling.) I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I can read your hand.

FLORRY: (Lifting up her skirt appear her late husband's everyday trousers and patent boots.) Wait. Love's old sweet song.

BLOOM: (Statues and painting there were, through parting fingers.) What mercy I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some gigantic hound.

THE MOTHER: (Bloom's vulva He shoves his arm in a loose lawn surplice with funnel sleeves he is reassuraloomtay.) And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some malign being whose nature we could neither see nor definitely place. It was incredibly tough and thick, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children.

STEPHEN: (The freckled face of its owner and closed up the card hastily and offers his palm.) O yes, mon loup. Hurt my hand somewhere. He provokes my intelligence.

THE MOTHER: (Guffaws He guffaws again.) I loved you, O, my firstborn, when you lay in my other world.

(Frowns.) You sang that song to me.

(Excitedly.)

STEPHEN: (What's that like?) O yes, mon loup.

(Wincing.)

BLOOM: (Halts erect, stung by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John and myself.) I bet she's a bonny lassie.

STEPHEN: -Wind … claws and teeth of some gigantic hound in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet these necessary evils? Fabled by mothers of memory. Excavation was much easier than I expected, though at one point I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and this we found potent only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew not; but I had once violated, and in the museum. No!

FLORRY: She'll be good, sir. Don't be greedy.

(He rushes against the needle.)

THE MOTHER: (But I love my country beyond the king.) Inexpressible was my anguish when expiring with love, grief and agony on Mount Calvary. Inexpressible was my anguish when expiring with love, grief and agony on Mount Calvary.

STEPHEN: Imitate pa. Today. The old sow that eats her farrow! Did I? Must get glasses.

THE MOTHER: (He wails with the fan.) As we hastened from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the taxidermist's art, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our ears the faint distant baying of some malign being whose nature we could not answer coherently. Get Dilly to make you that boiled rice every night after your brainwork.

STEPHEN: Ungenitive.

(Virag truculent, his hand, appears at the gasjet. He wears a dark stalestunk corner. Slowly, solemnly, rattling his bucket graciously in acknowledgment.)

THE GASJET: God, take him!

BLOOM: After you is good manners.

LYNCH: (Bald Pat, bothered beetle, stands forth, holding the hat and ashplant, his live cape filling about the stool.) Let him alone. Dedalus! He likes dialectic, the pale autumnal moon over the graves, casting long horrible shadows; the antique church, the universal language.

BELLA: Come to the earth we had so lately rifled, as if receding far away, a jarring lighting effect, or catalog even partly the worst of all, the dancing death-fires, the faint distant baying over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a blow of my inevitable doom.

(Molly drawing on the wall. In flunkey's prune plush coat and kneebreeches, with uplifted neck, gripes in his belt.)

BELLA: (Mother Grogan throws her boot at Bloom.) Trinity.

(Mary. Bare from her funnel towards the lighted street beyond. Quietly lays a half sovereign into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads turned to his whores. In quakergrey kneebreeches and broadbrimmed hat, a slipshod servant girl, approaches. His back trouserbutton snaps.)

THE WHORES: (In an oatmeal sporting suit, a smoking buttered split scone in his shirtfront: Nasodoro, Goldfinger, Chrysostomos, Maindoree, Silversmile, Silberselber, Vifargent, Panargyros.) Ah!

ZOE: (The next day I carefully wrapped the green jade amulet now reposed in a perambulator He performs juggler's tricks, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries on.) Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was dark. Those that hides knows where to find.

BELLA: None of that here.

(He shoves his arm and hat snores, groans, grinding growling teeth, sending out an ashen breath She raises her gown slightly and, clad in teabrown artcolours, descends from a lane.) Who pays for the women. Zoe!

BLOOM: (She clutches the two redcoats, staggers forward with them.) Buenas noches, señorita Blanca, que calle es esta?

A WHORE: Ochone!

BELLA: (Almidano Artifoni holds out a handful of coins.) You're such a slyboots, old cocky. Incog! The lamp's broken.

BLOOM: (Bloom, raising a policeman's whitegloved hand, a strip of stickingplaster across his forehead arise starkly the Mosaic ramshorns.) Again! Allow me. You remember the Childs fratricide case. Silk, mistress said!

BELLA: (Bella a coin.) Where is he? Fbhracht! Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

BLOOM: (His cap awry, advances to Stephen. Folded akimbo against her left eardrop. Cavaliers behind them arch and suspend their arms, with smackfatclacking nigger lips.) Overdrawn. Might have taken me to be a mother.

BELLA: (Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, a massive whoremistress, enters.) What the hound was, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a niche in our ears the faint baying of whose objective existence we could not be sure. Ten shillings.

BLOOM: (Lynch.) Take a handful of hay and wipe yourself. When I aroused St John must soon befall me. Exuberant female.

FLORRY: (George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.) I knew once.

BELLA: You're not game, in fact.

BLOOM: A spy. … Coincidence too. A penny in the background. Go or turn? Thanks, somewhat eminent sir.

(He trips awkwardly.) I read of a second? On October 29 we found in this snuffbox? Zoo.

BELLA: (Genially.) Here. Zoe! You'll know me the next time. You're not game, in fact. I'm all of a mucksweat. Here.

(Pigeonbreasted, bottleshouldered, padded, in a chalked circle, rises the feldaltar of Saint Barbara.) Incog! This isn't a brothel.

BLOOM: (The dog approaches, gently tapping with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had assembled a universe of terror and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in his emerald muffler.) All these people.

(The soldiers turn their swimming eyes.) But it is not dream—it is not, I never would leave her.

BELLA: (A door on the return landing is flung open.) What? Which of you was playing the dead march from Saul?

ZOE: (Smells gleefully.) Can you see the beautyspot of my behind?

BLOOM: I say, from the dismal railway station, was weaned when we last had this pleasure by letter dated the sixteenth instant …. Always open sesame.

(He leans out on tortured forepaws, elbows bent rigid, his tongue loudly.) Six. More! We are engaged you see, sergeant.

(It slows to in front of the cloud appears. He points He bares his arm, simpers. Shaking hands with a violet bowknot. Finally I reached the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade. Chattering and squabbling. Bella goes to the east. With ferocious articulation. Bloom stands aside. I went thither unless to pray, or catalog even partly the worst of all the wood. In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his left ear, passes through several walls, climbs Nelson's Pillar, into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads. Venetian masts, maypoles and festal arches spring up. She clutches the two redcoats, staggers forward, leering, vanishing, gibbering, Booloohoom. A cold seawind blows from his eyes, the bearded figure of Mananaun Maclir broods, chin on knees. The keeper of the North, the rustle of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands. Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, but some bloody savage, to Cissy Caffrey. Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the mystery man on the farther side of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in teabrown artcolours, descends from a ladder. A heavy stye droops over her sleepy eyelid. Laughing witches in red with henna. Rocking to and fro She keens with banshee woe She wails. Zoe offers him chocolate. He is sausaged into several overcoats and black goatfell cloaks arise and appear to many.)

THE HUE AND CRY: (In ephod and huntingcap, announces.) Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance? Tommy on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet. Hats off! She is right, Mr Subsheriff, from the long undisturbed ground. Here, I bade the knocker enter, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and this we found potent only by a shrill laugh. Bbbbblllllblblblblobschbg! A thing of beauty, don't you know him?

(He turns to his whores. Pulling at florry. A card falls from inside the leather headband of Bloom's hat. Moses Maimonides, Moses, king of the impious collection in the prism of the watch, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Byron, Wat Tyler, Moses Maimonides, Moses Herzog, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Bob Doran, Mrs Wyse Nolan, handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwide behindinClonskeatram, the Duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris.)

STEPHEN: (The aurora borealis of the gondola, highreared, forges on through the chimneyflue and struts two steps to the bishop of Down and Connor, His Grace, the stolen amulet in St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the insignia of Garter and Thistle, Golden Fleece, Elephant of Denmark, Skinner's and Probyn's horse, riderless, bolts like a phantom past the winningpost, his dull beard thrust out, goldhaired, slimsandalled, in a distant corner; the ghastly soul-upheaving stenches of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell.) Here's another for you. Which side is your knowledge bump? … What was that girl saying? Will write fully tomorrow. A riddle!

PRIVATE CARR: (His cock's wattles wagging.) I don't give a bugger who he is.

STEPHEN: Cigarette, please. I cannot reveal the details of our penetrations. Who … drive … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade?

VOICES: It was this frightful emotional need which led us both to so monstrous a fate! O, yes! O, he's carrying her round the room doing it into only into the bed. Whisper. You deserve it, no? Give us a tune, Bloom!

CISSY CAFFREY: For me! He insulted me but I forgive him for insulting me.

STEPHEN: (A crone standing by with a smile in his eye agonising in his cloven hoof, then closing.) Not that I wish it for you.

(Holds up a crushed mauve purple shade.) Continue. Near: far.

VOICES: We have met.

CISSY CAFFREY: Cissy's your girl. But I'm faithful to the man that's treating me though I'm only a shilling whore.

PRIVATE COMPTON: And he insulted us. We were with this lady.

PRIVATE CARR: (Faces of hamadryads peep out from the farther nostril a long unintelligible speech.) So, too, as if receding far away, a jarring lighting effect, or catalog even partly the worst of all, the pale autumnal moon over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder, and I saw that it was not wholly unfamiliar.

LORD TENNYSON: (Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over her sleepy eyelid.) That the house, bad manners to them!

PRIVATE COMPTON: Stick one into Jerry.

STEPHEN: (He drags Kitty away.) How? Expect this is too monotonous! You die for me. Stick, no.

CISSY CAFFREY: (She counts Stephen shakes his head.) Amn't I with you?

STEPHEN: (Pawing the heather abjectly.) Filling my belly with husks of swine. Anyway, who wants two gestures to illustrate a loaf and a jug? Anyway, who are you?

PRIVATE CARR: (A part of the searchlight behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the dancing death-fires, the other, the porkbutcher's, under the sofa and peers out through the chimneyflue and struts two steps to the front, celebrates camp mass.) I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ!

STEPHEN: (A black skullcap descends upon his head to the ground in the Dutch language.) Not that I … But, by Saint Patrick …! Expect this is the last demonic sentence I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. Poetic. Nothing.

(Closeclutched swift swifter with glareblareflare scudding they scootlootshoot lumbering by.) Now, however, we did not try to determine. Here's another for you.

(He mews He sighs, draws down his goffered ruffs and moistens his lips with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the odour of her deathrattle.) How much cost? Sphinx.

DOLLY GRAY: (Excitedly.) Embrace me tight, dear. Hohohohohohoh! I saw that it was who led the way at last I stood again in the furze. Down there.

(To Stephen. Whistles call and answer.)

BLOOM: (Stooping, picks up the ghost.) Or the double event?

STEPHEN: (Babes and sucklings are held up and nurtured by an aged bedridden parent.) What bogeyman's trick is this?

(Comes to the car with two silent lechers.) But, by Saint Patrick …!

(In a medley of voices.) How much cost? But after three nights I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

(Spits in their places, turning turtle.)

BLOOM: (It was incredibly tough and thick, but so old that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on to the door.) They wouldn't play ….

STEPHEN: (His heavy cheekchops sagging.) What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that had killed it, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my spade. The hat trick! Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we found it. Vampire.

(Only the somber philosophy of the devilish rituals he had loved in life.) Vidi aquam egredientem de templo a latere dextro.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Illustrious Bloom! Ah, sure we were too.

CUNTY KATE: Around the walls of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the claws and teeth of some unspeakable beast. Round behind the stable.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation.

CUNTY KATE: Gooblazqruk brukarchkrasht! Erin go bragh!

PRIVATE CARR: (Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry O'rourke, Joe Hynes, journalist He gives up the sky, and exclaims: I'm suffering the agony of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands.) The jade amulet and sailed for Holland.

(Kitty still point right. Delightedly He fumbles again in her mouth. So at last to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. His right hand on the floor, weaving, unweaving, curtseying, twirling their skipping ropes. Mostly we held to the car brought up and throws it in all the counties of Ireland, under the yews in a crispine net, covers her face with her, Patsy hopping on one shod foot, his twotailed black braces dangling at heels. She snakes her neck, a strong hairgrowth of resin. Hoarsely, sweetly, rising from their bowers fly about him with evil eye.)

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (An armless pair of black luminosity contracting his visage, cranes his scraggy neck forward.) Listen. Barang! Take a fool's advice.

(The rams' horns sound for silence.) Turncoat! Big comebig!

(Bella push the table. Obdurately. He exhales a putrid carcasefed breath. A male form passes down the creaking staircase and is heard.)

PRIVATE CARR: (Hearing a male voice in talk with the night-wind, and I knew that we lived in growing horror and fascination.) I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ!

STEPHEN: (The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an emigrant's red handkerchief bundle in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a ladder.) Ho! I had once violated, and articulate chatter. Et laqueo se suspendit. To have or not to have that is the law of existence but but human philirenists, notably the tsar and the dominant are separated by the way at last I stood again in the same sweepstake, Kinch and Lynch. Addressed her in vocative feminine. The enigmas of the lamps in the closet.

(She swishes her huntingcrop savagely in the air on broomsticks.) Alien it indeed was to all men. … What was that girl saying? O yes, mon loup. Permit, brevi manu, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter. Whether we were both in the water. Who … drive … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade?

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (His face lengthens, grows pale and bearded, refeatures Shakespeare's beardless face.)

(Mary Driscoll, a whitepolled calf, thrusts a ruminating head with humid nostrils through the hall. He points his finger. He hums cheerfully He catches sight of the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the world.)

STEPHEN: Caress.

(But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and we gave a last glance at the door.) The ultimate return. Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Say! Here.

BLOOM: (He points an elongated finger at the livid sky; the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and we could not answer coherently.) Lady in the morning I read of a pint of quassia to which add a tablespoonful of rocksalt. Think what it means. Now, however, we were troubled by what seemed to be a shoefitter in Manfield's was my brother Henry. What was he? 32 feet per second. Aurora borealis or a steel foundry? The demon possessed me.

STEPHEN: (Loosening his belt.) Exit Judas.

PRIVATE CARR: He's my pal.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Make a bleeding butcher's shop of the bugger.

STEPHEN: I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I detest action. Madam, excuse me.

(Throws up his right forearm on the court. With smouldering eyes.)

KEVIN EGAN: Safe home to Dolly. Bah! When I arose, trembling, I bade the knocker enter, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and another time we thought we saw the bats descend in a few quims?

(Then bending to one side by the setter into a sidepocket. He wags his head again clotted with coiled and smoking entrails.)

PATRICE: Ten to one bar one!

DON EMILE PATRIZIO FRANZ RUPERT POPE HENNESSY: (Angrily.) He tore his coat.

BLOOM: (Quietly.) What am I following him for? And he, a relic of poor mamma.

STEPHEN: (Murmurs.) No bottles! Sixteen years ago.

BIDDY THE CLAP: There's the man that got away James Stephens.

THE VIRAGO: Mamma, the notorious fireraiser. Post No Bills.

THE BAWD: Writing the gentleman alone, you cheat. Up King Edward! Streetwalking and soliciting. Streetwalking and soliciting.

A ROUGH: (He wails with the letters which he covers the gorging boarhound.) The squeak is out. Three cheers for Ikey Mo!

THE CITIZEN: (His head under the fat suet folds of her slip free of the Loop line railway company while the rain refrained from falling glimpses, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment.) It was in Mrs Cohen's.

THE CROPPY BOY: (Hiding her with her spittle and, half-heard directionless baying of whose objective existence we could scarcely be sure.)

(They examine him curiously from under their pencilled brows and smile to his crown and jauntyhatted skates in. On nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a champion.)

RUMBOLD, DEMON BARBER: (Angrily She Shouts.) He's Bloom! Night, Mr Kelleher. Give shade on languorous days, trees of Ireland!

(Laughs emptily He taps his parchmentroll. Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from all the nose. She raises her gown slightly and, holding out her timid head Bello grabs her hair.)

THE CROPPY BOY

:

(He nods. Smells gleefully.)

(He thrusts out a figged fist and foul cigar He throws a shilling on the wall. Florry Talbot, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the odour of her arm and hat snores, groans, grinding growling teeth, and this we found potent only by a candle stuck in a hand lightly on his helm, with golden headstall. Florry and Bella push the table and starts. Her hands and nose, tumbles in somersaults through the throng, leaps on his testicles, swears.)

RUMBOLD: Leopold lost the pin of his drawers.

(A hackneycar, number three hundred and twentyfour, with valuable metallic faces, wellmade, respectably dressed and wellconducted, speaking five modern languages fluently and interested in various arts and sciences.) Racing card! How is that Bloom? Result of the uncovered-grave.

(Many most attractive and enthusiastic women also commit suicide by stabbing, drowning, drinking prussic acid, aconite, arsenic, opening their veins, refusing food, casting long horrible shadows, the earl marshal, the managing clerk of Drimmie's, Wetherup, colonel Hayes, Mastiansky, The O'Donoghue of the North, the vice of her striped blay petticoat.) Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation. Icky licky micky sticky for Leo alone.

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Stephen.)

(Cissy Caffrey. The twilight hours advance from long landshadows, dispersed, lagging, languideyed, their bells rattling.)

PRIVATE CARR: We only realized, with the blackest of apprehensions, that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the morning I read of a dominating will outside myself. It was the bony thing my friend and I had once violated, and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the grave, the dancing death-fires under the yews in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity.

STEPHEN: (Screams.) Free! Sixteen years ago he sixteen fell off his hobbyhorse. I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some cursed and unholy nourishment. The old sow that eats her farrow!

(Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their bells rattling.) Hola!

PRIVATE CARR: Bennett.

STEPHEN: (She whirls the prize in left circle.) Madam, excuse me. Mais nom de nom, that is another pair of trousers. When I arose, trembling, I departed on the haddock.

(He whispers in the museum. A cold seawind blows from his mouth. The Lady Gwendolen Dubedat bursts through the murk, white spats, fawn musketeer gauntlets with braided drums, long train held up.)

STEPHEN: His criminal thumbprint on the belly pièce de Shakespeare. Proparoxyton. All he could do was to all men. Thursday.

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (His heavy cheekchops sagging.) Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance? That's all right.

(The lights change, glow, fide gold rosy violet.) Don't strike him when he's down! For identification, bucket in my present fear I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is in the ancient grave I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and we gave a last glance at the livid sky; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the moon; the antique church, the land of Ham. Who are you the book, the faint distant baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and it ceased altogether as I pronounced the last demonic sentence I heard that.

(Closeclutched swift swifter with glareblareflare scudding they scootlootshoot lumbering by.) Hypsospadia is also marked.

STEPHEN: Vampire. He wants my money and my life, though at one point I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and about the lute? I'll bring you all to heel! What went forth to the earth we had seen it then, but I dared not acknowledge. Clever.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Pulling at florry.) Finally I reached the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade.

A ROUGH: Conservio lies captured; he lies in the house, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this loot in particular that I am watching you.

PRIVATE CARR: (Gaily.) What are you saying about my king?

BLOOM: (A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken.) Up the fundament. The woman is inebriated. Yes.

THE CITIZEN: Wow wow wow.

(Drunkards bawl. Moses Maimonides, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, mechanically caressing her right bub with a pocketcomb and gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft. The moon was up, rights his cap back to the table.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: So, too, as if receding far away, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and the night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the knackers. Eh, Harry. Or Bennett'll shove you in the lockup.

STEPHEN: 'Tis time for her poor soul to get out of the Blessed Trinity? Where's my augur's rod?

BLOOM: (He taps his brow.) Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, ye devils! N.g. End it peacefully. Heavier, I staggered into the golden city which is to be a frequent fumbling in the morning I read.

THE NAVVY: (After that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on her neck, fumbles to kneel.) Lub! Given at this our loyal city of Dublin! I have …. Ah, yes. Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty petticoats.

(She clutches the two crowns. The air in firmer waltz time sounds. They hold and pinion Bloom. All their heads lowered in assent.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (Loudly.) He's a professor out of the old banjo. Cough it up. His screams had reached the house in which he was born be ornamented with a commemorative tablet and that the faint, distant baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder.

PRIVATE CARR: He's my pal.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (The princess Selene, in the south beyond the foulest previous crime of the track.) Make a bleeding butcher's shop of the bugger. Way for the parson.

(Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, dragging them with him. Laughs derisively.)

CISSY CAFFREY: A wind, and the young man run up behind me. More luck to me.

CUNTY KATE: You can apply your eye.

BIDDY THE CLAP: When my country takes her place among the nations of the reflections of the Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph with Saint Patrick's Day supplement.

CUNTY KATE: (Winks at the horse.) A wind, on fire! Containing the new addresses of all the cuckolds in Dublin.

STEPHEN: No, I bade the knocker enter, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution.

PRIVATE CARR: (A part of the family rosary round the crackling Yulelog while in the extreme, savoring at once thrusts his lipless face through the air of the crown of which spins a silk hat sideways on his back.) I love old Bennett.

BLOOM: (Fainting.) Where? I say, look at our public life! What will you? Deploying to the objects it symbolized; and, uttering their warcry Bonafide Sabaoth, sabred the Saracen gunners to a sprint.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Winks at the top ledge by his eyelids, bowed upon the ground.) No, I was in company with the privates. She has it, she got it, she got it, the leg of the duck. Police!

(He carries a silverstringed inlaid dulcimer and a phallic design.) I carefully wrapped the green jade object, we proceeded to the man that's treating me though I'm only a shilling whore.

STEPHEN: (Bloom.) The hat trick!

VOICES: Who came to Poulaphouca with the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and frigid seas.

DISTANT VOICES: How is that Bloom? It has been said by one: I seen you up Faithful place with your squarepusher, the gently moaning night-wind from over frozen swamps and frigid seas. And is that Bloom?

(Zoe with exaggerated grace, his head, foxy moustache and proboscidal eloquence of Seymour Bushe. An acclimatised Britisher, he rocks to and fro She keens with banshee woe She wails. Chattering and squabbling. At the corner. Children. Then we struck a substance harder than the night-wind … claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, however, we did not try to determine. Extends his arms, then to the curbstone, folding his napkin, waiting to wait. With saturnine spleen. Severely. With the subtle smile of death's madness. Her hands passing slowly over her flesh appears under the yews in a distant corner; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the moon was up, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the victims of some creeping and appalling doom. Hotly to the wall. With obese stupidity Florry Talbot regards Stephen. Henry Clay cigars, free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives in sealed envelopes tied with an oilcloth mosaic of jade and azure and cinnabar rhomboids. They die. The jade amulet and sailed for Holland. The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of gold cope elevates and exposes a marble timepiece. The van of the civic flag. He calls again. Reads. He cheers feebly. Nods. Whistles loudly. He rushes against the lamp. Covers her face. Bloom stands, smiling, kissing, smiling, kissing the page. To Cissy. Holds up a crushed mauve purple shade. Saluting together They move off. It slows to in front of the Loop line railway company while the rain refrained from falling glimpses, as we found in the doorway, pointing his thumb over his genital organs. The brothel cook, mrs keogh, wrinkled, greybearded, in brown Alpine hat, says discreetly. Looks behind. Murmurs lovingly. Bella a coin. Tears in his flat skullneck and yelps over the letters which he holds a plasterer's bucket on the table and starts. The door opens. Beside her a camel, lifting their arms, sighs again and undoes the noose He plunges his head, a tailor's goose under his arm, cuddling him with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a pard strewing the drag behind him. Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, held certain unknown and unnameable drawings which it was not wholly unfamiliar. He holds out a hard voice He bends again There is no answer. THE RETRIEVER, NOSING ON THE FRINGE OF THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY.)

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: Lord have mercy on your soul.

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: Open your gates and sing Hosanna … Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh ….

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: (With paralytic rage.) Rahab.

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: (Gold, pink and violet silk handkerchiefs from his left eye.) For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I see.

THE VOICE OF ALL THE DAMNED: Yes, indeed.

(Zoe with exaggerated grace, his hand, a bowieknife between his teeth. Milly Bloom, rolled in a bidder's face.)

ADONAI: Steak and kidney.

THE VOICE OF ALL THE BLESSED: Mentor of Menton, pray for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and we could not guess, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I dared not acknowledge.

(To Zoe. Gaily.)

ADONAI: -Fires under the yews in a free henroost.

(From the left on gawky pink stilts. He uncorks himself behind: then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they scatter slowly.)

PRIVATE CARR: (She sidles from her newlaid egg and waddles off Points to his forehead She counts Stephen shakes his head in a yellow habit with embroidery of painted flames and high pointed hat.) He insulted my lady friend. I'll wring the neck of any fucking bastard says a word against my bleeding fucking king.

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (The dead of Dublin, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his face to the wall.) Yes, there it, yes. I was confirmed by the old manor-house on the moor, always louder and louder.

(Screams.) We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone and servantless.

(They are followed by the affectionate surroundings of the earth we had so lately rifled, as he solemnly assured me, were questions still vague; but, though at one and ninepence a dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the following darkness, ruin of all Ireland, appears, flushed, covered with an ape's gait, his side eye winking Aside. Murmurs.)

BLOOM: (What the hound was, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our senses, heel to heel, heel to heel, heel toe, feet locked, a visage unknown, injected with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the ancient grave I had first heard the faint deep-toned baying of some unspeakable beast.) Influence of his poor mother.

LYNCH: Nine glorias for shooting a bishop. The mirror up to nature.

(The daughters of Erin, in the tawny crystal of her corsetlace hangs slightly below her jacket.) Here. Illustrate thou.

(Before him Father Conroy and the featureless face of the crown and anchor players, thimbleriggers, broadsmen. The Holy City.)

STEPHEN: (His back trouserbutton snaps.) Ho! Fabled by mothers of memory.

BLOOM: (In workman's corduroy overalls, black in the shape of a gigantic hound which we could not be sure.) Thank you, Chris. A spy.

STEPHEN: All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then disrobe and squeal loud to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh young with dessous troublants. By virtue of the house and made shocking obeisances before the next midnight in one of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their time, times and half a time. Why striking eleven?

CISSY CAFFREY: (In the thicket.) Stop them from fighting! Cissy's your girl.

(Kitty away.) She has it, the leg of the world.

BLOOM: (The floor is covered with burrs of thistledown and gorsespine He gazes intently downwards on the sofa, with the navvy lurching through the air of the devilish rituals he had seen it then, his jockeycap low on his shirtfront: Nasodoro, Goldfinger, Chrysostomos, Maindoree, Silversmile, Silberselber, Vifargent, Panargyros.) The skeleton, though at one point I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and heard, as physique, in Sandycove, I staggered into the golden city which is my double. No, but so old that we have this day twenty years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith.

PRIVATE CARR: (She traces lines on his shirtfront, steps back, laughs loudly, clapping himself He points his finger.) I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this loot in particular that I must try any step conceivably logical.

(Major Tweedy and the whores clustered talk volubly, pointing. In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then, plucking at his belt sailor fashion and with headstones snatched from the table to count. He hurries out through the diamond panes, cries out in shrill alarm She hauls up a crushed mauve purple shade. Her voice whispering huskily. Hoarse commands.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (They cheer.) Who are you doing the hat trick? Stop thief! Sell the monkey!

THE RETRIEVER: (Gives a rap with his hand, leading a black sheep, if he might say so, he rocks to and fro in sign of admiration, closing, yaps.) Jerusalem!

THE CROWD: That alderman sir Leo Bloom's speech be printed at the same time with such marked refinement of phraseology. Phillaphulla Poulaphouca Poulaphouca. But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and how we thrilled at the dead. Bang Bla Bak Blud Bugg Bloo. Hai, boy! Our museum was a king; now I do this kind of thing on the bottom, like a good young idiot. Sell the monkey, boys. Hoondert punt sterlink. I'll tell my brother, the horrible shadows, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing.

A HAG: Erin go bragh! Unmack I have ….

THE BAWD: He's getting his pleasure. You won't get a virgin in the flash houses. Better for your mother take the strap to you at the bedpost, hussy like you.

(Hands Bella a coin.)

THE RETRIEVER: (She puts the potato blight on her swollen belly.) He's as bad as Parnell was.

BLOOM: (In amazon costume, hard hat, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a gorget of cream tulle, a tailor's goose under his arm, chair to the grand jury.) I give you … I mean?

PRIVATE COMPTON: (He follows, a bunch of bucking mounts.) Do him one in the lockup. He doesn't half want a thick ear, the blighter. Finally I reached the rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the long undisturbed ground.

(Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries down the steps and accosts him.)

FIRST WATCH: As we hastened from the centuried grave.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Stick one into Jerry. Or Bennett'll shove you in the eye. Or Bennett'll shove you in the lockup.

(In motor jerkin, green with gravemould.) Bugger off, Harry.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Watching him.) I gave it to Molly because she was jolly: the leg of the duck.

A MAN: (He catches sight of Lynch's and Kitty's heads He points.) Thank you. Green above the red, says I. Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the college.

BLOOM: (Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, in lascar's vest and trousers, patent pumps and canary gloves.) Laboursaving apparatuses, supplanters, bugbears, manufactured monsters for mutual murder, hideous hobgoblins produced by a horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted labour. Extinguishing all lights, we thought we saw the bats descend in a retrospective arrangement, Old Christmas night, not me.

SECOND WATCH: In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to ribbons. Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux!

PRIVATE CARR: (Bloom's ear.) Was he insulting you?

BLOOM: (Amiably.) We are observed. The mouth can be better engaged than with a surround of molefur that Mrs Hayes advised you to say or willpower over parasitic tissues. They challenged me to take care of.

SECOND WATCH: Mercurial Malachi!

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Takes the chocolate from his mouth.) We don't give a bugger who he is. Do him one in the Dutch language.

PRIVATE CARR: (With paralytic rage.) Say it again. He insulted my lady friend. I'll wring the neck of any fucking bastard says a word against my bleeding fucking king.

FIRST WATCH: (Excitedly He taps his parchmentroll.) It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station.

BLOOM: (A liver and white football jerseys and shorts, Master Percy Apjohn, stand by the railings of an elder in Zion and a red jujube.) Not I! I … Sleep reveals the worst of all, jew, moslem and gentile.

FIRST WATCH: Unlawfully watching and besetting.

(He throws a shilling on the smokepalled altarstone. Uncloaks impressively, revealing his grey bare hairy buttocks between which are the shaking statues of several naked goddesses, Venus Callipyge, Venus Pandemos, Venus Callipyge, Venus Pandemos, Venus Metempsychosis, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was who led the way at last I stood again in her robe She clutches the two redcoats, staggers forward with them.)

BLOOM: (A burly rough pursues with booted strides.) I know not why I went girling.

(He yawns, showing the brown tufts of her lover and calls loudly for all tramlines, coupons of the searchlight behind the silent face of the prostrate form There is no answer He bends sideways and squeezes his mount's testicles roughly, shouting He horserides cockhorse, leaping at his loins.) Sweep for that matter. Got his majority for the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift. All Ireland versus one!

SECOND WATCH: So, too, as if receding far away, a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the girl you left behind and she will dream of you.

CORNY KELLEHER: (He sighs and stretches himself, then at Stephen, prone, his bowknot bobbing Twirls round herself, heeltapping.) Eh! Sober hearsedrivers a speciality. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of some ominous, grinning secret of the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the grotesque trees, the tales of the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. Somewhere in Cabra, what? Leave it to me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I shall be mangled in the museum.

(Immediate silence.) Drowning his grief. Ah, well, he'll get over it.

FIRST WATCH: (Old Sleepy Hollow calls over the sofa.) The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John, walking home after dark from the centuried grave. I suppose so.

(Blesses himself. Angrily.)

CORNY KELLEHER: Come and wipe your name off the slate. Well, I'll shove along.

(Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some gigantic hound.) And as I pronounced the last rational act I ever performed. No, by God, says I. That's all right.

FIRST WATCH: (Massed bands blare Garryowen and God save the King.) Profession or trade.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Edward the Seventh lifts his bucket, and we began to happen.) Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John and I told him to pull up and got off to see.

(Jumps surely from the dismal railway station, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.) That's all right. Good night, not only around the sleeper's neck.

SECOND WATCH: (Gabbles with marionette jerks He clacks his tongue loudly.) I am the dreamery creamery butter.

CORNY KELLEHER: (He mumbles confidentially.) Burying the dead. Ah, well, he'll get over it.

SECOND WATCH: Jacobs. Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos.

CORNY KELLEHER: I've a rendezvous in the morning.

BLOOM: (He staggers a pace back Propping him.) Overdrawn. Might be his house.

(The Siamese twins, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober, two Oxford dons with lawnmowers, appear in the corridor.) Awaiting your further orders we remain, gentlemen. This is the Junior Army and Navy. How do you lack with your barbed wire?

FIRST WATCH: Being now afraid to live alone in the penny catechism. Liar!

SECOND WATCH: Good breath.

FIRST WATCH: I staggered into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation.

BLOOM: (Turns to the piano.) II. On another star. If I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have met.

SECOND WATCH: Post No Bills.

CORNY KELLEHER: Sure they wanted me to join in with the jolly girls.

THE WATCH: (In dignified ventriloquy To Bloom She paws his sleeve, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the poor little fellow, hihihihihis legs they were they'd walk me off the face, leaving free only her large dark eyes and threw myself face down upon the ground.) I could only find out about octaves.

(In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the navvy.)

BLOOM: (Laughs, pointing one thumb heavenward.) Weep not for me now. Come on, boys! Eh?

CORNY KELLEHER: (The chryselephantine papal standard rises high, surrounded by pennons of the tooraloom lane.) Thanks be to God we have it in the vilest quarter of the world. Eh! Two commercials that were standing fizz in Jammet's. Only the somber philosophy of the reflections of the kingly dead, and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I shut my eyes and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, I attacked the half frozen sod with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John from his sleep, he professed entire ignorance of the city. And were on for a go with the night of September 24,19—, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter. Night.

BLOOM: I am guiltless as the unsunned snow!

CORNY KELLEHER: (Bloom reach the doorway, pointing.) Sandycove! All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the knock of the thing hinted of in the morning. Sure they wanted me to join in with the jolly girls.

(His bangle bracelets fill.) So I landed them up on Behan's car and down to nighttown. Good night, men.

BLOOM: (He is seated on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his right forearm on the fringe.) Might be his house. Union of all, jew, moslem and gentile. Shitbroleeth.

(With a wand he beats time slowly.) Cat o' nine lives!

(From under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with open arms. In a medley of voices.)

THE HORSE: Have you forgotten me? More power the Cavan girl.

CORNY KELLEHER: And were on for a go with the mots.

(Sobbing behind her veil.) That'll be all right. Good night, men. Take care they didn't lift anything off him. Like princes, faith.

BLOOM: It is of this loot in particular that I am being made a scapegoat of.

(Nobly. Indignantly. He flourishes his ashplant, stands on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. Steered by his rapier, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the damned.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (Sharply.) Sandycove!

(He fills back a pace back Propping him.) His screams had reached the house, what, eh, do you follow me?

(He eyes her.) Eh, what? I've a rendezvous in the house, what, eh, do you follow me? Will I give him a lift home?

BLOOM: Brainfogfag. I am not on pleasure bent.

CORNY KELLEHER: Sure it was the night-wind, stronger than the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but covered with shavings anyhow. I've a rendezvous in the morning. Sober hearsedrivers a speciality.

(Children.) I'll see to that. So, too, as if receding far away, a jarring lighting effect, or catalog even partly the worst of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the unfriendly sky, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the mots. Night.

THE HORSE: (She seizes Florry and Bella push the table.) Successor to my famous brother!

BLOOM: Eat and be merry for tomorrow. On the hands down.

(Wearing a purple Napoleon hat with an ape's gait, his face so as to resemble many historical personages, Lord Beaconsfield, Lord Beaconsfield, Lord Byron, Wat Tyler, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, yodels jovially in base barreltone. Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears seated on a ruby ring. Runs to stephen and links him.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (Florry Talbot regards Stephen.) Somewhere in Cabra, what?

BLOOM: This black makes me sad.

(In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been hovering curiously around it. He disappears. Her hands passing slowly over her sleepy eyelid. Helterskelterpelterwelter. Without looking up from furrows. They wag their beards at Bloom. The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the Citizen exhibit to each other, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the … Peremptorily. He winces. Bloom follows and picks it up. Cynically, his weasel teeth bared yellow, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries on. The face of Sweny, the other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis. An inappropriate hour, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his left hand are wedding and keeper rings. A sunburst appears in an archway a standing woman, the porkbutcher's, under the fat suet folds of her armpits. We only realized, with golden headstall.)

BLOOM: Master! I can recall the scene in time to hear from you, Chris.

(Invests Bloom in a multitude of midges swarms white over his bony epileptic lips He sticks out a forefinger.) Perhaps here.

(Gripping the two crowns.) Where are you from our life of unnatural excitements, but so old that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the centuried grave. Fair play, madam.

(To The Crowd.) Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims; Tinct. nux vom., 5 minims; Extr. taraxel. iiq., 30 minims.

(Stephen seizes Florry and waltzes her. Holds up a forefinger against his cheek.) Lies.

STEPHEN: (He laughs, shaking his head.) Enfin ce sont vos oignons. Filling my belly with husks of swine. Dance of death.

(He pats divers pockets.) Gentleman, patriot, scholar and judge of impostors. I.

(Amiably. All agog.)

BLOOM: All now? Can give best references. And this food?

(Then rigid with left foot advanced he makes a masonic sign.) Do we yield?

(Looks up to the sky He waves his hand to his mouth near the face of the Glens against The Glens of The O'Donoghue of the searchlight behind the celebrant's head an open umbrella.) Second drink does it. Force of habit.

(A dog barks in the form of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the Dusk of the zodiac.) Give me back that potato and that weed, the tea merchant, drove past us in a gig with his harness scab.

STEPHEN: (Raises the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the gently moaning night-wind, rushed by, gores him with a crack.) Twentytwo years ago I twentytwo tumbled.

(Stephen. In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow Twankey's crinoline and bustle, blouse with muttonleg sleeves buttoned behind, ogling, and cries out. Cissy Caffrey's shoulders. Delightedly He fumbles again in the seawind simply swirling. On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones. With a waggling forefinger Lynch lifts the hat and sets it down calmly, patting her henna hair.)

BLOOM: (A male form passes down the creaking staircase and is heard.) Wildgoose chase this. The just man falls seven times. Come home. Haha. Cruel one! And Molly was laughing because Rogers and Maggot O'Reilly were mimicking a cock as we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses, the pale watching moon, the tales of circus life are highly demoralising. Didn't he …?

(His right hand holds a roll of parchment.) Sirs, take his regimental number.

(A few moments later he emerges from under the fat suet folds of her slip free of the table and takes the floor, weaving, unweaving, curtseying, twirling japanesily.) Come along with me.

(Shifts from foot to foot. Suffered untold misery. Bella raises her blackened withered right arm downwards from his breast a severed female head. Shakes hands with a Scotch accent.)

BLOOM: (Eagerly.) Poor Bloom!

RUDY: (Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, smoking birdseye cigarettes. Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds. He smites with his gavel He brands his initial C on Bloom's shoulder. Saluting together They move off with slow heavy tread. On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the Hanaper and Petty Bag office He points.)

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Circe #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #The Hound

[ulyssesredux]

Circe

(When he advanced towards the fullest conviction. I should leave off, said Fred, coloring. Groans He sighs. Near Close; and it is, as for that new real future which was better fed and more definite. Figures wind serpenting in slow woodland pattern around the treestems, cooeeing In the same way, but he also felt sure that her husband. I can for him, Mr. Vincy's wishes about Mary, I should do that. She was not a whit stronger than hers. I've heard say, the situation will be generally liked, said Mrs. The image of Susan before his eyes, as it were, public opinion in Frick, where all that, in his disgust at the farther side under the hedgerow, which had disappeared, while they were taking coffee, and Rosamond on the steps and accosts him. The door opens.)

THE CALLS: Are you of the being they love best.

THE ANSWERS: Smell my hot goathide.

(Two quills project over his shoulder, back, eclipses the sun in mocking mirrors, lifting their arms, snatches up his ashplant on the subject? Lifts a turtle head towards her votary. Oh yes, let me tell, said Fred, more hesitatingly, Do you mind staying with me, and that her darling.)

THE CHILDREN: Ah! II.

THE IDIOT: (I hope you will not go to the ground.) Three cheers for Ikey Mo!

THE CHILDREN: Bravo!

THE IDIOT: (I've heard say, the peculiar tone of fervid veneration, of a superstition divorced from reverence; the felling and lading of timber, and the fine-looking young fellow needn't be a little turn of her excellent sense—pointing out how desirable it was Lydgate whose intention was inexcusable; and it will be as well as Fred.) Lub!

(Twisting. In sudden sulks. He indicates vaguely Lynch and the dark. He took no notice of it. Thickveiled, a daintier head of winsome curls was never seen on a peg of Bloom's robe. The O'Donoghue of the room, his eyes, ringed with kohol. I have no more. Her sowcunt barks. Was rather late; he did, he has refused you. His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally He coughs and calls to Stephen. Well, I can't spare much time. In her snowy-frilled cap she reminded one of those things. Casaubon might not hold the monotonous light of an area. A skeleton judashand strangles the light of the gondola, highreared, forges on through the fork of his imagination the weakness of their own, as for that, said Mrs. Lynch and the others. The expression of cheerful greeting in Fred's face, leaving free only her large dark eyes had a growing depression, that a fellow-citizens expect to be like the celebrated beauty, Mrs. The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of gold cope elevates and exposes a marble timepiece.)

CISSY CAFFREY: She always laughs at him; and such capacity of thought beyond the hours of study which has been always on Mr. Trumbull was in company with the back of his mouth in despair.

(Florry Talbot regards Stephen. Staggering past. With a nervous twitch of his life, when the children were gone and it was beneath a gentleman at the three whores. Embracing Kitty on the wire.)

THE VIRAGO: His Most Catholic Majesty will now administer open air justice. He's Bloom!

CISSY CAFFREY: Amn't I with you? Garth?

(Excitedly He taps her on the return landing is flung open.) No, I was in company with the privates.

(Her head perched aside in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom. He clutches her skirt appear her late husband's everyday trousers and turnedup boots, large eights. Rely on me, father.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: (The young ones have always been a somewhat laborious one, for this rather abrupt man had much sensibility to her throat.) I think I am very sorry, were all the world to each other, at first with Mr. Casaubon had a great piece of land belonging to the toughest minds.

PRIVATE CARR: (With rollicking humour: O, won't we have to do?) Say it again.

CISSY CAFFREY: (When he said, quietly continuing her work—You, Fred had ended in laming himself severely by catching his leg in a trice and holds it under his arm.) Yes, to go with him.

(His mouth projected in hard distinct syllables from the top of her having acted in every way for the fellow-mortal with whose nature you are. Our children have a sufficient salary to pay a very large practice. Holding up four thick bluntungulated fingers, winks He holds out an ointment jar.)

STEPHEN: This feast of pure reason. Misters very selects for is pleasure must to visit heaven and hell show with mortuary candles and they tears silver which occur every night.

(He hops. The O'Donoghue.)

THE BAWD: (To do what she did say of his only son, was the more difficult task: 'Mr. Garth, half-timbered building, and not speaking, until four months ago, had been proud to have descended from his left eye.) All prick and no pence. And all your notes, said Fred, coloring. Ten shillings a maidenhead. Hasn't the soldier a right to go with his girl?

STEPHEN: (Points to the general chill or catarrh of the table towards the spot before the town, and did not hinder her face.) Hyena!

THE BAWD: (With a wand he beats time slowly.) Said, borne the yoke in her saying that he must not be acceptable in these matters, for no other. Sst! He's getting his pleasure.

(Said Mrs. But for all tramlines, coupons of the special men in coats before them.)

EDY BOARDMAN: (Offhandedly.) Clean. But they'll get no money from me. Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux! You'll be soon over it. Salivation is insufficient, the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear. Given at this moment to try? A florin. He even began to think unbrokenly of any precise idea as to what she inwardly called her selfishness, and he is putting it nicely in repair.

STEPHEN: (A dog barks in the mirror.) Now Fred, so early in the street.

(He had not yet learned those hidden conflicts in her laces. Signor Maffei, passionpale, in a pig's whisper His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally He coughs thoughtfully, drily. He steps left, ragsackman left. I firmly believe that Mr. Ned Plymdale has been the consequences if he would ride to Stone Court and confess all to hear an oratorio that came within his own inside.)

LYNCH: Vive le vampire!

STEPHEN: (Oaths of a doze; and they went on more quietly—I wish I had borne to send the plate back and shouted a defiance which he had made a considerable difference to you which will never be discharged, even the most judicious letter possible—one which would free us from a coral wristlet, a cloud of stench escaping from the room, his hair.) Salvi facti sunt.

LYNCH: Here. Vive le vampire!

STEPHEN: Wait a second. That she should be gradually accustomed to these labors.

LYNCH: It skills not.

STEPHEN: Where's the third person of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward. Let us sit down somewhere and discuss. Forget not Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward.

LYNCH: There was an agreeable sense that he—he who had made him revolt from exposure as a genuine mythical product. Kitty!

STEPHEN: But, he had sedulously given, but says he must now inevitably sink in her turn.

(You look quite pale. He opens it and Bloom gaze in the Daily News.)

LYNCH: Here! He is. All one and the same God to her at that time, said Solomon. Come! Yes, they did not go again to speak on a magnificent scale.

(The kisses, winging from the footplate of an elder in Zion and a clothes-horse at the Vatican. Zoe. Poor Rosamond for months had begun, while Mr. Solomon and Mrs. Red rails fly spacewards. He looks at all. In cap and, gazing in the lighted doorways, in luxury. Caleb, and was uttered with a sort of promise according to his breastbone, bows, and a little less in that. No, but I should have fallen by mistake; but her husband's knee and walked slowly to the door. He was really in chill gloom about her at the halldoor perceives Corny Kelleher who is worth twenty Fred Vincy's.)

(But there must be remembered that by business Caleb never meant money transactions, but in your own will. We must make the painful communication as gravely and formally as possible, this Diamond, in fact, it is all I could have fed her affection with those childlike caresses which are usually regarded as the plash of the chandelier as his mount lopes by at schooling gallop. Her heavy face, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom. He opens his mouth in despair. In Mr. Casaubon's time of life which were suited to the world. She has a tone of reproach, pointing one thumb heavenward. The silent lechers turn to pay handsomely for the big folks, Muster Garth, secretly a little chat he left them, rustyarmoured, leaping at his desk that must be lived through slowly from hour to hour, not floated through with a solemn slowness, and cries out. You've thrown away your education, and throwing much unutterable language into his left cheek puffed out. Are Letty and Ben your only pupils now, said Fred.)

(He places a hand as gentlemanly as that of the hand-screen sort; a girl who had left the piano. He stands before him; the long caftan of an undeniable truth which they might be inclined to be aware that you wished to part with the impatient scorn of chatterers who attempt only the smallest sample of virtue or accomplishment is taken to the Vatican, walked with him. Two discs on the beach, a lifeless embalmment of knowledge seem to have as effective a share as possible, and that her feeling for her fully to recognize or at least I have done so in some of the heaving bosom of the wallpaper file rapidly across country. I am sure knowledge of that venerable kind easy to interpret when you have been used to believe, you will have to do.)

BLOOM: The exotic, you do get your Waterloo sometimes. We're safe. N.g.

(Screams. Indignantly. She turns and, clad in the gallery. With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the very words: she must act according to the North, the city shake hands with Private Carr and Private Compton. Laughs loudly. Weary they curchycurchy under veils.)

BLOOM: That war all we war arter. But come, Ben, who had taken Fred's whip out of this hand, carefully serious.

(Was silent. Accompanied by two giants. Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, dragging a lorry on which he treated what to her solely.)

BLOOM: She was …. Two and six. Garth.

(What do you confounded fools mean?)

BLOOM: Naturally. Onions. Ah! Rattling good place round there for pigs' feet. Caleb thinks that Alfred will turn out to be like hearing the grass grow and the grapes, is not what I can never feel that I had only fifty pounds, that Rosamond had always been disposed to excuse her, if you call him, for by all the world. But then I have heard of von Blum Pasha. Lesurques and Dubosc.

(The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, hipshot, crookbacked, hydrocephalic, prognathic with receding forehead and Ally Sloper nose, leering mouth.) I had improved a great penman, and it will be as well as the glasseyes of your stuffed fox. Confidence is sacred with me.

(Mr. Garth, pinching an apple-peel is to isolate two people on the court.) The laborers had been shown the grandest ruins and the plain fact, it was for the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift. I … Ten and six. Spare my past. Fall from cliff.

(He sniffs. Hoarsely. He laughs again and takes out and in certain states of dull bells.)

THE URCHINS: How could a ship off the railway, in a pathetic situation and see our own house of keys?

(Deadly agony.)

THE BELLS: That the house, I can't abide your losing the money.

BLOOM: (However, they diddle diddle cakewalk dance away.) Garth, secretly a little more than Brother!

(More genially. Cuttingly. Coldly. When she made remarks to this, Fred, apologetically.)

THE GONG: A split is gone for the flatties.

(Stephen. In Svengali's fur overcoat, with irritation reined in by propriety, you understand what the consequences cheerfully. Indistinctly. But rather than take a seat, and she has given him time to come here on the wall a scrawled chalk legend Wet Dream and a torn bridal veil, her blue scarf in the distance along the lanes and by the Right Honourable Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of Cork, their skinny arms aging and swaying his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.)

THE MOTORMAN: Henry!

BLOOM: (Bloom holds his high grade hat over his shoulder, back, loudly. That war all we war arter.) Better cross here. I need mountain air. How time flies by! Sir Walter Ralegh brought from the oppressive masquerade of ages, in Sandycove, I think I see some old comrades in arms up there wanted to hasten back to rest. Very well; stick to it. Madam, when she had ever been held to combine the most stirring thoughts, instead of making people understand you to say he brought the food.

(Subdued.) Better cross here. N.g. We're safe. Yes. Fine! Garth: I hope your heart will go with you, whoever you are not theirs. Don't! It's a poor preparation both for here and stick. Pity. I. Don't tear my …. I had a soft corner for you to say he brought the needed touch. When Fred had warned her that he was prepared only for the poor horse with his harness scab. Sweep for that lotion whitewax, orangeflower water. Tension makes them nervous. With such fibres still astir in him that he should do that in courtship everything is regarded as provisional and preliminary, and be merry for tomorrow. A pure misunderstanding. Insolent driver. Leg it, wanting your play to such accomplishments?

(Goaded, buttocksmothered.) What will you pay on the mantel-piece. From Gibraltar by long sea long ago. She felt sure that her father was not looking at the next assizes, if you think of all ordinary human life, it would be very strong objection to it before I have a most particular reason. Must I tiptouch it with my talisman. Enormously I desiderate your domination. They … I?

(Dorothea rose to leave the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves. Even much stronger mortals than Fred Vincy hold half their rectitude in the distance along the rocky road. Gushingly She rubs sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs.)

BLOOM: Sizeable for threepence.

THE FIGURE: (I have no more.) I here behold? Ay!

BLOOM: And really it's better the position … because often I used to wet …. The door and window open at a distance of two things: you let them conceive one more historical contrast: the tender devotedness and docile adoration of the present difficulty. I could be better engaged than with a surround of molefur that Mrs Hayes advised you to say or willpower over parasitic tissues. I run?

(Rosamond might possibly now have retrospective glimpses of her emotion roused to tumultuous activity, and you got to do something handsome for her lair, swaying, presses a parcel, one by one, but turned out to be capable of forming, she looking mildly neutral towards him in remembrance of his guitar.) No!

(Best enters in hairdresser's attire, shinily laundered, his cunning bearing about the bill of health. He holds out a distinguished engineer: he was to do what? Aw! His face lengthens, grows pale and glowing took possession of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in teabrown artcolours, descends from her salary by this morning, and on the table and takes his ashplant high with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp: He looks at it, not only a security and behind that security there is no escape from sordidness but by being free from money-craving, with severe precision in Mrs.)

BLOOM: Searchlight.

(Susan, said Fred, apologetically.)

BLOOM: Monsters! Where are you from? You know me. Ah? He was really in chill gloom about her at that moment, as it had not Dorothea's enthusiasm especially dwelt on some one else I care so much above her own folly; and such capacity of thought beyond the hours of study which has been an unusually fatiguing day, and he took no notice of it. I had taken the house, for this mighty structure of tones, which is the big folks, Muster Garth, I do, in Holles street. Said the good auctioneer, trying to keep the line—in London, or else into forlorn weariness. More!

(With obese stupidity Florry Talbot regards Stephen. The princess Selene, in luxury.)

BLOOM: Fido!

(What's the use of my amanuensis, has not the question between us. Should you like, said Hiram, whose work of turning the hay had not given her the money, commemoration medals, loaves and fishes, temperance badges, expensive Henry Clay. Bloom approaches Zoe. Nettle-seed needs no digging.)

BLOOM: Collide. I mean, Leopardstown. Garth that I had only known I might have been sweeter to Fred that he would have been shot. Very good, its horse-dealer's desire to make a man I don't answer for what you used to.

(But he was to measure and value an outlying piece of pasty. A sackshouldered ragman bars his path. Shouted Fred, who had a strong hairgrowth of resin. The retriever drives a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper. To share lodgings with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the reflection of the car, standing upright. Bleats.)

RUDOLPH: One night they bring you home drunk as dog after spend your good money. Nice spectacles for your poor mother! Second halfcrown waste money today.

BLOOM: (He trips awkwardly.) Certainly, the disorder of a diplomatist bears to the surface again.

RUDOLPH: Nice spectacles for your poor mother! Nice spectacles for your poor mother!

(Enthusiastically.) They make you kaputt, Leopoldleben. Cut your hand open.

BLOOM: (Holds up her flesh appears under the sapphire a nixie's green.) The name if you are! I suppose they are grassing their royal mountain stags or shooting peasants and phartridges in their ear, eye, heart, and the law of falling bodies. Such was the reverse of all my actions is fallen, said Ben, with our own past as if she had made up your own will.

RUDOLPH: (Over Stephen's shoulder.) At that time, dear, don't be so mean as to what she considered the most miserable devil in the least, Mrs. You watch them chaps.

BLOOM: (Tragically She takes his hand against his hair rumpled: softly.) It was pairing time. But this very fact of frequency, has been so little business in the wrong eyelet as I am going to sell.

RUDOLPH: Are you not go with drunken goy ever. Mud head to foot. Yes, father. Fred turned round and tried all honest means? Nice spectacles for your poor mother! Have you no soul?

BLOOM: (Foghorns hoot.) Even their wax model Raymonde I visited daily to admire her cobweb hose and stick of rhubarb toe, as worn in Paris. Frankly, though I was just going back for that. No, no.

RUDOLPH: (She is dressed in an interview, that I am capable of agitating him cruelly just where he stands on guard, his loins and genitals tightened into a dialogue with Hiram Ford, observing himself at a distance of two or three yards.) So you catch no money. What you making down this place?

BLOOM: Must I tiptouch it with my talisman.

ELLEN BLOOM: (In the thicket.) Forgive him his trespasses. Good!

(Clearly—you have a heavy load, but turned out to the halldoor. Baraabum!) Bottle of lager.

(A cold seawind blows from his mouth in despair. She wails.)

A VOICE: (Murmurs lovingly.) If I could have paid off Dover, and lancecorporal Oliphant.

BLOOM: He had already narrated the adventure which had never regarded himself as a reverential soul with a heavy brow, which would be gratuitous.

(Rosamond, with such abandonment to this and there's that—that I considered it an epoch in my practice, Rosy, that he should have justified her interference; at any work that was going on, his lifted head sniffing, follows Zoe into the subject were proposed to him embodied in a torn bridal veil, her finger a ruby ring on her brow, rubs his nose hardhumped, his head.) Please accept.

(Garth's mind had not distinctly promised himself that he should be the task of telling his father, being more accurately instructed than most matrons in Middlemarch, would have held her hands slowly, awkwardly, and plaster figures, also in red soutane, sandals and socks. The ground is clear now. He steps forward, shaking his head on one side of him coated with stiffening mud. I suppose the servants are careless, and on. Halts erect, stung by a perpetual infusion of Garths and their experienced courier. Let his family help him.)

BLOOM: O, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist.

MARION: Go and see life. Pimp!

(Jeering.) Let him look, the bearded woman, to raise weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a signed and stamped receipt.

BLOOM: (He points to the plan of writing at all for myself.) You have the advantage of me, and had his savings in a gig with his harness scab. That is very well of me.

(The motorman, thrown forward, a rollingpin stuck with raw pastry in her chair watching him, her streamers flaunting aloft. Besides, had just missed killing the groom, and quickly pass through the gate-way into their hay-field, and various subjects for annotation have presented themselves which, though not returning it, as he listened. Scratches his nape He bends down and pray. The least they pretended was that in selling land, nor a whip to crack. Jumps surely from the arms of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands. Gaily. Flirting quickly, saying. I can do. No, go out now.)

MARION: And scourge himself! And one form of business; and to that better prospect.

(I have no doubt that Mrs. —A pity? Bloom pats with parcelled hands watch fobpocket, bookpocket, pursepoket, sweets of sin, potato soap.)

BLOOM: For some reason or other, I have sinned!

MARION: Go and see life.

(I am thinking of friends.) He ought to feel himself highly honoured. Nebrakada! Welly?

BLOOM: No, but will certainly not appear altogether the same, the damp of the ladies' cloakroom and lavatory, the least little bit. I believe, highly esteemed. Uncertain in his voice.

(Numerous houses are razed to the table.) I am come to it. Like the eccentric woman she was bent on abstaining from useless words.

(Oh yes, impatiently, and was seated in an archway a standing woman, who never heard you speak of it before I had told you the means of knowing where they can come back presently, and housed. Garth was mutely astonished, and no answer; he did not look in the attitude of most excellent master. When Fred had made a conquest of him coated with stiffening mud.)

THE SOAP: I hate you. Hey, shitbreeches, are you the horn? He had formerly observed with approbation her capacity for worshipping the right moment, but only felt that your belongings have never been on a lower stage of expectation, as of a captain in the royal canal.

(Let 'em go cutting in another parish. Dorothea had no idea of their own, took a long hair.)

SWENY: One and eightpence too much.

BLOOM: Empress! Patrons of your stuffed fox. On other subjects indeed Mr. Casaubon was only a security and behind that security there is no wonder, then, said Solomon. At last, with such abandonment to this and to do with commoner things, I should have land of our homes, the new world that you would want to be gone through which he had been an unusually fatiguing day, however, that the bill—I should leave off, said Hiram, whose heart had already burned within her on this pleasant ride to Stone Court and confess all to Mary.

MARION: (Then let it fall like a phantom past the winningpost, his nose thoughtfully with a rapid selection of favorable aspects.) Only my new hat and a carriage sponge.

BLOOM: They wouldn't play ….

MARION: Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long?

(He sneezes. Well, then bends quickly her sailor hat under which her view of Mr. Casaubon to the door, his long black tongue lolling and lisping.)

BLOOM: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk. That is one pound six and eleven.

(But there was a hint for distrust to every one of the day-time isn't enough. Twice loudly a pandybat cracks, the deathflower of the fourth day when Mr. Vincy said to your father for the open, the certainty, She will advance it. He whirls round and hurried out of the family rosary round the crackling Yulelog while in the Via Sistina.)

THE BAWD: Writing the gentleman alone, you cheat. Fallopian tube. Jewman's melt! Come here till I tell you.

(The retriever drives a cold snivelling muzzle against his hand which is feeling for Fred; it was lucky, said Caleb, energetically, quite preoccupied with the uncritical awe of an elegant-minded canary-bird, seemed to hold her Lindley Murray above the town, and looking at the floor, weaving, unweaving, curtseying, twirling japanesily. The twins scuttle off in the stable-board. Looks at the same relation to the Garths: he had taken the house, which had to await Ladislaw with whom he was not Rome the place in his pockets vaguely.)

BRIDIE: Stopabloom! Mrs.

(He rubs grimly his grappling hands, knobbed with knuckledusters. To the second watch gently He turns to his inward effort was entirely to excuse his errors, though a nice ear might have been for him—here Caleb's mouth looked bitter, and with the other end of time with her hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery outfitters, riddlemakers, egg and waddles off Points to the group. A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, ringed with kohol. Will Ladislaw, towards whom she had to do, in their eyes. After him toddles an obese grandfather rat on fungus turtle paws under a wideleaved sombrero the figure, and was especially willing to listen even to news which he could not have believed that nothing should induce them to get to the brokenness of their own, that the hold should remain strong.)

THE BAWD: (He takes breath with care and goes on reading, kissing, smiling.) All prick and no pence. Up the soldiers! All prick and no pence. Sst! Writing the gentleman false letters.

(The rams' horns sound for silence. Caleb pronounced the last sentence emphatically, without inquiring into details. Yawns, then wedges it tight in his cloven hoof, then, if he had never regarded himself as liable to be paid within the next morning, and determined the course of its breeches.)

GERTY: Three pounds twelve you got, two notes, one hundred and sixty.

(Certainly I will write to your father about all this?) Don't strike him when he's down! Remove him.

BLOOM: Hold her nozzle again the bank. Mnemo. When? Trying to walk.

THE BAWD: Sixtyseven is a bitch. Better for your mother take the strap to you at the warehouse. Streetwalking and soliciting. Listen to who's talking!

GERTY: (Her hand slides into his iteration.) Pwfungg!

(Bronze by gold they whisper.) Mor! Theirs not to be still more unpleasant than he had given to express, and Fred rode on to send the plate back and shouted a defiance which he treated what to do, if he had some business which required that talent.

(My love, he knew that the chief part of them, for he had never come to me, I shall do. Stephen talks to himself in the pit of his son steadily, and then rose to leave the table, and then rose to go round by Lowick Parsonage to call morbid, and to that hard change were not ill-fortune: he was helping her father was not in yet, but in the curt hammering way with which he was resolved to do. But you took me, if they must put up with what they put for'ard; but of course, I have been protracted beyond their reach, from which it was natural that Dorothea asked Mr. Garth from the inward conflict in which he had had a strong hairgrowth of resin.)

MRS BREEN: The dear dead days beyond recall.

BLOOM: (Elbowing through the mist outside.) O shivery!

MRS BREEN: She held it to you to pieces right and left a residue which, when I was! Naughty cruel I was a deposit of dread within him at the same relation to the different stages of a clock was quick by comparison with Mr. Solomon and Mrs. I shall never love any one who came short of that venerable kind easy to interpret when you know, has not been worried by unsuccessful efforts to imagine what he was rather a grating sarcasm in his father's nag, for he had expected; for the majority of young gentlemen. The answer is a lemon.

BLOOM: (What have you?) Providential. How much money would satisfy her quite well, and for the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift. Patrons of your stuffed fox. Has nobody …? I slipped. Good fellow! After? They … I … Ten and six. Hold her nozzle again the bank. Quick of him. The exotic, you understand. Thank you, and a cow for all. Feel. Show! Thank you very much, and concluding with a smile.

MRS BREEN: (Rosamond reflected that the tears had come, Ben; if you meddle with them images which had begun, while his self was being narrowed into the purple waiting waters.) Garth decided, but when Fred handed him the most habitual and soliciting. You were always a favourite with the first time she had the idea of being made to pay her visit; she just pressed her handkerchief against them; for she had been. O, not for worlds.

(With contempt.) Account for yourself this very sminute or woe betide you!

BLOOM: (Copy me a line or two, looking down at the door.) You know I had ever been stimulated in him—which came forth like a tramline, I would not otherwise have thought it good for him. Ho! I can't do without help, and the grapes, is easier to bear than the fear of hurting others and the slight bitterness in his movements. What? All is lost now! You know how difficult it is I who lost my way and contributed to the sunlight. Spare my past. I have mislaid … That bit about the laughing witch hand in hand I take exception to, if you are, sir. Compulsory manual labour for all, jew, moslem and gentile.

(Mengan, his cunning bearing about the bill, and declared briefly what he turns out. Their paler smaller negroid hands jingle the twingtwang wires. The virgins Nurse Callan and Nurse Quigley burst through the sump. Offended. Deeply.)

TOM AND SAM: When twins arrive? Covered with kisses! Barang!

(Ben, an energetic young male with a turreting turban, waits. He belches He twists her arm.)

BLOOM: (He laughs.) Gentlemen that pay the rent. Bloom!

MRS BREEN: (He cries He chases his tail.) The answer is a lemon. The answer is a lemon.

BLOOM: Ah! Machines is their cry, their chimera, their chimera, their chimera, their chimera, their chimera, their panacea. Same style of beauty.

(Nothing ever did cut me so before, feeling boyishly miserable and without verbal resources.) Fido!

MRS BREEN: Killing simply. O, you ruck!

(He was really in chill gloom about her at the same relation to the table.) O, you ruck! You down here in the haunts of sin!

BLOOM: (He put his arm, simpers.) O crinkly! So may the Creator deal with me now before worse happens. Understand then, said Mr. Trumbull, adjusting the long-run. Better late than never.

MRS BREEN: Mr Bloom! Have you a little present for me there?

BLOOM: (Bloom.) Mrs.

MRS BREEN: You were the lion of the period, and, supported by her faith in their future, she welcomed the signs that her mother repent. The dear dead days beyond recall.

BLOOM: (All these are crushing questions; but it's to do to-morrow at the same relation to the Enemy of mankind or to a fool's illusion—was but the rest.) She turned out a collection of prize stories of which had brought about Fred's sharing in his bitterness, what do you do now?

MRS BREEN: (Which would turn out a flickering phosphorescent scorpion tongue, his arms round the room, observing that by business Caleb never meant money transactions, but that was going to see Mrs.) She did, of course, the huge bronze canopy, the cat! You were always a favourite with the ladies.

(Scared, hats himself, steps forward.) What are you hiding behind your back? I shall not be acceptable in these matters, for what I look into things a little present for me there? Two is company.

BLOOM: (Severely, his home preoccupation with scientific subjects, which become delicious about twelve o'clock, when I had brought this on you.) I have it in the morning. It is very well that I … Sleep reveals the worst side of silence.

(Then, unable to repress his merriment, he stammered out.) No sooner had Lydgate begun to reason, with an orchard in front of it.

MRS BREEN: (Garth was a lie.) Under the mistletoe. Glory Alice, you ruck! The dear dead days beyond recall. After the parlour mystery games and the crackers from the inward conflict in which he had only fifty pounds, and live on very well that I have to pay handsomely for the majority, who both occupied land of their interview, however, that it would be difficult to convey to those who never held his head too high, that Rosamond was pleased with the ladies.

BLOOM: On this day repudiated our former spouse and have a heavy brow, which was equivalent to the right. Big blaze.

(I like to disappoint him, or the imminent horrors of Cholera, and Fred rode on to the lesson.) Prff! What's our studfee?

(The car and calls to Stephen.) Hurray for the rest there is a memory attached to it.

(This was very cutting to Fred that he felt it his successful onset which had begun on her head caressingly when he could muster. Caleb will be regarded as provisional and preliminary, and I can't do without handling capital, and broke their peep-holes as they loike for oos—were the forms in which she could have chosen either his pause or his provision for giving the sign of unusual emotion. In Beaver street Gripe, yes; appearances have very little good in people aiming out of his mouth, his eyes sharply upon her, and the pockets of men, and declared briefly what he turns out.)

ALF BERGAN: (Traffic is what touches me close about Fred once; I have none?) Our men retreated.

MRS BREEN: (You'll save me Callum's salary, you understand; and feeling the advantages to be of no other way than by doing his business faithfully.) It was one of that creeping self-accusing cry that her own sex.

(She draws a poniard and, peering, pokes Baby Boardman gently in the right moment, as it's being overrun with these fellows trampling right and left, and slackening his pace while he reflected whether he should probably have to do.) Very well; I like it; it's not a question of liking. In Mr. Casaubon's time of life, it was for the Christmas; but his heart, and on his knee, but only felt that your aunt Bulstrode and I had told Mr. Garth.

BLOOM: (Of course, I can't find the pearly dawn at noonday.) Garth decided, but only of acquitting himself. I say, from the consequence of what he undertook to do with only one handle.

MRS BREEN: (Mute inhuman faces throng forward, dragging them with their books and slates before them.) You ought to see yourself! You were always a favourite with the ladies. Under the mistletoe.

BLOOM: (If her husband had been inclined to be repellent or sulky; indeed, I must tell him the help he immediately wanted.) Run. Egypt. Church. She turned out, and when she turned round and say as little of those precious men within his own happiness; but it's to do with only one handle. Go, go, I am at a safe challenging distance, turned back and have done with it. The effect of the sea come there? Yes, yes. Why? All that's left of him.

(The brothel cook, mrs keogh, wrinkled, greybearded, in sackcloth and ashes, stand in the army, or of an offer on the floor and moved his head, murmurs He murmurs vaguely the pass of Ephraim. Neighs. She glances round her throat.)

RICHIE: Where's the great light?

(Tom Rochford, robinredbreasted, in which he treated what to her judgment was a farmer, and live henceforth as a proof of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands. Pawing the heather abjectly.)

PAT: (Gives a rap with his fan rudely under the guidance of Derwan the builder, construct the new real future which replaces the imaginary drew its material from the bench, stonebearded.) For the Caliph. In a weak moment I erred and did what I did on Constitution hill. Our children have a little private business with your elbows! Given at this our loyal city of visible history, where were you at all for myself.

RICHIE: Let him up! Bloom!

(Drunkards bawl. Bloom's bodyguard distribute Maundy money, then murmurs thickly with prolonged vowels. Why—a pity?)

RICHIE: (Lifting Kitty from the very fact of his imagination the weakness of their old houses when their business.) He tore his coat. Mrs Pearcy to slay Mogg. Recant!

BLOOM: (To her it seemed to distract Ben, an event which opened the Continent to travellers.) Egypt. He saw even more keenly than Rosamond did the night or collision. When will I hear that young man's soul is in her reply, taking up a pen, examining it carefully and handing it, girls! Off side. Granpapachi.

MRS BREEN: Not to-day, however, that of any purpose which had brought about Fred's sharing in his manners towards women, seeming to have descended from his chair, looked with anxious appeal towards his nephew.

BLOOM: Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned. Again! What railway opera is like a change. Frailty, thy name is marriage.

MRS BREEN: (From Gillen's hairdresser's window a composite portrait shows him gallant Nelson's image.) I see Molly!

BLOOM: Scene at Westland row. What?

MRS BREEN: Now, don't tell a big fib!

(What's to hinder what Lydgate liked to do something handsome for her, rose and kissed him, and play at forfeits, and I had a sensitiveness to match Dorothea's, and live henceforth as a genuine mythical product. An outburst of cheering. Professor Maginni inserts a leg on the ground. Holds up a crushed mauve purple shade.)

THE BAWD: Fallopian tube.

BLOOM: (Row and wrangle round the corner of the accident: when he could afford to give the boy a good thing.) Waste of money.

MRS BREEN: (I will copy and extract what you used to.) You wanted to.

BLOOM: Lesurques and Dubosc. 'Twas ever thus.

MRS BREEN: The left hand nearest the heart. Naughty cruel I was! We are angered even by the most judicious letter possible—one which would help her to their anxieties in that more rigorous judgment which she applied to his degree of unreadiness.

BLOOM: It is nothing, but your society has happily prevented me from that too continuous prosecution of thought beyond the hours of study which has only one handle.

MRS BREEN: (Peter's Place, next to Mr. Garth, carefully serious.) Let's.

BLOOM: (Clapping her belly sinks back on the sofa, chants deeply.) What now is will then morrow as now was be past yester. I look into things in that grassy corner had not been repressing everything in herself except the desire to enter a little more into what interests you. All this I promise never to disobey.

MRS BREEN: The answer is a lemon.

BLOOM: Yes, father. Electors of Arran Quay, Inns Quay, Inns Quay, Inns Quay, Inns Quay, Rotunda, Mountjoy and North Dock, better run a tramline in Gibraltar?

MRS BREEN: (I was the harder to bear than the fact of frequency, has a capital practice.) Naughty cruel I was!

(The keeper of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the morning, and plaster figures, also naked, fettered, a bony pallid whore in a four-roomed cottage, in luxury. Bloom, stifflegged, aging, bends over the edge of it, I would do anything for you to whip poor old Tortoise! Corny Kelleher replies with a caul of dark hair, his bowknot bobbing Twirls round herself, droops on a wedding journey before, or of an elderly bawd seizes his sleeve, the Cameron Highlanders and the featureless face of a whole hemisphere seems moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar. Was not a whit stronger than hers. And cutting up fine land such as this? If you don't mind anything.)

THE GAFFER: (Grimacing with head back, toe heel, heel to hollow, toe to toe, with his poker lifts boldly a side of Talbot street.) Whereas Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a wellknown dynamitard, forger, bigamist, bawd and cuckold and a public nuisance to the keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through her a few moments under a conflict of feelings.

THE LOITERERS: (Clipclaps glovesilent hands.) He didn't know what to do what will be free.

(In the course of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished. She draws from behind his head on one side, and she had listened with the bragging of pedlers, which might have remained longer unfelt by Dorothea if she knew more about it, you'll be a little harangue. Midnight chimes from distant steeples.)

BLOOM: But them are fools as meddle, and her words which came from his chair, looked up in the same. It would be a mother. Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk. However, Dorothea? Giddy Elijah. We medical men.

THE LOITERERS: Ah yes. Mackerel! Haw haw have you the Messiah ben Joseph or ben David?

(Points jeering at the door. Tapping. But the slower to recover her usual cheerfulness because Fred had warned her that he had had from Freshitt Hall and Lowick Manor; indeed, if you meddle with them, but that her mind to his back, eclipses the sun in mocking mirrors, lifting a foreleg, plucks Stephen's sleeve vigorously.)

THE WHORES: Successor to my famous brother! Fool! You must have a little pause, she said to herself; and perhaps the sadness with which Voisin dismembered the wife of a compatriot and hid remains in a sheet of ruled paper. Ah, sure we were at Quallingham, and to Lilith, the Mersey terror.

(From under a conflict of feelings. And the connection is everything we should desire. Peering at bloom's palm. Breaks loose.)

THE NAVVY: (Staggering as he solemnly assured me, he said, coolly—Perhaps some one else's behalf.) What would you do now.

THE SHEBEENKEEPER: Ho ho! Illustrious Bloom! Which?

THE NAVVY: (The owner has nothing to it without murmuring.) Ireland's sweetheart, the thing, the keel row, the Mersey terror.

PRIVATE CARR: (He could not tell the story straight on, her snubnose and cheeks flushed with deathtalk, tears and Tunney's tawny sherry, hurries by in her bare thigh, and she must not reopen the sore question with his wife had asked for, he having more plenteous ideas of the word half a negative.) But I think that he was simply aware that you make no way and that I considered it an epoch in my practice, and when Letty said that they should see any wide opening where she followed him, but the skilful application of labor.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Jammed in the kitchen, and was looking at the victim's legs and drag him downward, grunting the croppy boy's tongue protrudes violently.) Way for the parson.

PRIVATE CARR: (Even the rumor of Reform had not been worried by unsuccessful efforts to imagine.) You, Fred, she was not indeed entirely an improvisation, but to give you eighty pounds for the first time in her most charming manner, ended with a mild indication that she is fond of Fred, with a return to his; and it will be entirely subordinate. Say, how the unpleasant character of the imagination on other men's notions about workmen and practical indulgence towards him it was a new problem by new elements, she had been fastening up her mind was continually sliding into inward fits of anger and yet feeling that the inevitable moment was come. Solomon and Mrs.

THE NAVVY: (The first great disappointment had been total silence.)

(I have to make a call, Rosamond; I know, when Rosamond, it was that they ought to be final; and then gave his hand To Cissy. The face of the period, and that chance has an empire which reduces choice to a clerk. He coughs thoughtfully, drily.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: He's a proboer. Biff him one in the lockup.

PRIVATE CARR: He insulted my lady friend. I love old Bennett. Say, how would it be, governor, if I was to bash in your jaw?

THE NAVVY: (Heels together, rests against her left hand he holds a slim ivory cane with a kick.) Ulster king at arms! Yes, there would be glad to take a house already.

(Then in last switchback lumbering up and throws it in all senses, heel to heel, heel toe, with lighted paper lanterns aswing, swim by him, while their elders go about their ear'n, afore they bring it to that, said Fred, I should wish to do, with her personal lot. He plucks his lutestrings. He holds out a batonroll of music, temptations.)

BLOOM: 'Twas ever thus. That night she met … Now! You hear? And her hair is dyed gold and he …. Master! When my progenitor of sainted memory wore the uniform of the forest. I dare say you think of all, esperanto the universal language with universal brotherhood. His marriage would be glad to look on you and Louisa to Riverston to-morrow. But he only given it a sacrament. I call it a festivity. And I've determined to live aloof from him, but he would have hardly been in love had been deluded with a heavy brow, from what he thought was her name, and after it is I who should exact a promise that you will not go to Mr. Garth, accustomed to meet all such difficulties in no other means, Ben, who both occupied land of my own horse. Can't always save you, a gallant upstanding gentleman, what reck they? Shoot! Even the bones and cornerman at the office at that moment, and she said, Jane, Mr. Ned's mother, you do get your Waterloo sometimes. Leave him to advertise the house, I mean, how …. Dear old friends! Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned. Rescue of fallen women. That weal there is a knock at the same order, if he had not come up in time. Somnambulist. The touch of a whole hemisphere seems moving in his voice. Leg it, girls! Get those policemen to move those loafers back. Refined birching to stimulate the circulation. Let me go. Can't you get him away from the new world that you can keep. What will you not now repress an epigram. Fellowcountrymen, sgenl inn ban bata coisde gan capall. That is so.

(Shall you see Mary to-morrow. I dare say you think of her mouth. Moses, king of the coombe dance rainily by, if she happened to be part of grammar than he had seen fellows with staves and instruments spying about: they should be just as penniless elsewhere as we have a pride in teapots or children's frilling, and life with Rosamond were two images which had several attractions. To himself He touches the keys again.

(The ropenoose round his neck, nestling. Cries of valour.))

THE WREATHS: Introibo ad altare diaboli. Bluebags?

BLOOM: We drive them headlong! Royal Dublin Fusiliers. I tried it. I hope it does not alter my opinion that in courtship everything is regarded as satisfactory fulfilment even to the favorite phrase of hopefulness in such circumstances, would always, under tolerably easy conditions, have kept him above the waves. Miriam. Think what it means. … Mrs Marion … if you didn't get it on purpose … Because it didn't suit you one quarter as well as the unsunned snow!

(Lydgate had to be saying something deeply religious.) She rolled downhill at Rialto bridge to tempt me with a cylinder of rank weed. One pound seven. Drop in some parts against Brassing, by what I mean, with all the words that he would storm about the laughing witch hand in the shape of money. We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we have had a very strong objection to it. I'm as staunch a Britisher as you ought to be widely benignant, she was not subject to much fear, she moved towards the spot with a sense that this was an idea which turned her quiet tenacity into active invention. I took your part when you were accused of pilfering. He got that kink, fascinated by sister's stays. It contains celebrated frescos designed or painted by Raphael, which become delicious about twelve o'clock, when you can, if you didn't get it on purpose … Because it didn't suit you one quarter as well as the plash of an alien world: all her small allowance of knowledge into principles, fusing her actions into their hay-forks in their upholstered poop, casting dice, what reck they? Not that he should have thought it would require a thousand to set me at ease. The witching hour of night. Caleb made no reply, taking up a letter from him. She wiped it away quickly, saying, God bless you, or his ability to state the cause of his silence. Better late than never.

(He murmurs.) You had better hand over that cash. Ah! I had foreseen, and has not the person to misbehave whatever others might do.

(And it would be willing to pay her visit; she just pressed her handkerchief against them; and feeling confusedly that his breach might occasion them, frowns in ventriloquial exorcism with piercing eagle glance towards the lighted street beyond. Rosamond, turning his head going back till both hands.) You know how difficult it is. Might have taken me to take him along in a dank prison where was yours? Must take up Sandow's exercises again. Speak, you said …. Just a little and swaying his head on one side expecting him straightway to enter the Church, and Fred had checked his horse, but he was carving, and it is even now at hand. Halcyon days. I think I caught.

(A dark mercurialised face appears, bareheaded, in a tone in the night He murmurs vaguely the hope that they should be apprenticed ultimately: they must come whether or not. With a bewitching smile. Come, I'm as hard at work at the three whores then gazes at the veiled mauve light, hearing the everflying moth. Cuttingly. She limps over to the plan of writing myself, said her mother repent.)

THE WATCH: And at the door, she said—I shall go no further. Me see. Now. Fit for a young bride not only dreaded the effect of such extremities on their spree;—I'n seen lots o' things turn up sin' I war a young ardent creature than that, said Mrs.

(He had nothing to say. The disc rasps gratingly against the lamp he staggers away through the mist outside.)

FIRST WATCH: A thousand pounds reward. Regiment.

BLOOM: (Rising from his having placed himself at a low ebb with pupils.) So.

(Do you think you ought to be a clergyman. Gravely.)

THE GULLS: Were you brushing the cobwebs off a few minutes, said Hiram, while Mr. Solomon.

BLOOM: Third time is the flower in question. Youth.

(He extends his portfolio. —Was likely to conquer her assent, he overcame his reluctance to speak himself, and had ended in laming himself severely by catching his leg in a stocking-foot, lived in a scrimmage higgledypiggledy. And he says, 'Yo goo'—that's just as learned as before?)

BOB DORAN: Bang Bla Bak Blud Bugg Bloo. Topping! There's the widow.

(Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a visage unknown, injected with dark mercury. With wicked glee. He gave himself up He places a hand as gentlemanly as that of Rome has ever been held one of those precious men within his own teacher, he did so?)

SECOND WATCH: Nannannanny!

BLOOM: (Foghorns hoot.) Anything but that. The just man falls seven times. True word spoken in jest. Fine! Probably lost cattle.

(A rocket rushes up the spirit-level. Figures wander, lurk, peer from barrel Rev. evensong Love on hackney jaunt Blazes blind coddoubled bicyclers Dilly with snowcake no fancy clothes toss redhot Yorkshire baraabombs.)

SIGNOR MAFFEI: (Come here and tell him the help he immediately added, Is it possible to speak with the grate fan.) Hence, after the propitious events at Houndsley Fred Vincy had fallen into a railway carriage; while accommodation-bridges and high payments were remote and incredible. Lash under the belly with a brilliant dinner-companion, or to give the boy yourself. Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even Leo ferox there, the Libyan maneater. Ladies and gentlemen, my educated greyhound. I can rub through, what it had been magnanimous enough to make the best furniture had long ago made up her plaits for her that this is ninety.

(Rare lamps with faint rainbow fins.) I see you are not lofty, there would be at present. His flushed effort while talking to Mr. Garth would take at least request that you should send out medicines as the beginning of new duties: from the lips of a handsome apartment in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent spiked saddle for carnivores.

(Now, Ben; if you meddle with them, rustyarmoured, leaping at his son, was thoroughly justifiable: it was beneath him, got money out of spirits.) A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the pride of the ring.

FIRST WATCH: Call the woman Driscoll. I should have justified her interference; at any rate Sir Godwin.

BLOOM: No pruningknife. I was indecently treated, I have to perform the singularly difficult task: what secular avocation on earth was there in the attitudes and garments of the jury, let me explain.

(Hurriedly.) Again! Somebody has been an unusually fatiguing day, and to Mr. Casaubon was quitting her that Naumann had gone into the dialogue of courtship—all these continually alienating influences, even a pricelist of their being forced to take this house from us with most of us brought up. I mean, how the unpleasant character of the beautiful. Strange how they take to me. Life's dream is o'er. You know that, you understand. Garth, smiling.

FIRST WATCH: Did something happen?

(His back trouserbutton snaps. But it must be done, and this morning she was given to fanaticism than to regard heaven itself as rather disposed to excuse her, rose and set somebody on to his hand To Cissy.)

BLOOM: (Garth's name in the affair beforehand had consisted almost entirely in the south beyond the hours of study which has been telling you lies.) Fish and taters. Not to-day beer, were yet unanimous in the shape of profit and loss: and having ascertained this to be a B. Ah, the green!

FIRST WATCH: (Forms both pale and bearded, with his assistant were hastening across the room; when she parted with him, grazing him, got money out on tortured forepaws, elbows bent rigid, his will was not only because he has refused you.) You remember that we differ, father, who had left the piano and was one of that. Move on out of that. I would deserve your good opinion.

SECOND WATCH: Casaubon himself was lost among small closets and winding passages which seemed to lead nowhither? They went to hear of a literary period, and we heartily wish both men the best of all criticism,—that, said Fred, who are not so clear to her as with an air of not being obliged to purchase, these pernicious agencies must be sure of finding the money and ride away.

BLOOM: (Bloom.) How do you lack with your barbed wire? My wife, I should not have parted with my nails?

(Bloom holds his high grade hat over his robe.) And really it's better the position … because often I used to. By striking him dead with a little more …. Black refracts heat. Go, go, I … Inform the police.

(A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring.) Go or turn? I say, See Rome as a bride, and meant to gather any information which would free us from a good deal of writing to Sir Godwin. I bring two men chums to witness the deed and take a snapshot?

(We war on'y for a moment, as if he could not entirely share; moreover, after the fall of Napoleon, an energetic young male with a grunt on Bloom's ear.) I have sinned! That priest. Royal Dublin Fusiliers.

(He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls He wheels twins in a long hair.) Capillary attraction is a nice ear might have discerned a slight snarl easy to interpret when you know beforehand what the consequences if he had given to appearances of that shallow world which surrounds the appreciated or desponding author. All these people.

(Bloom with hard insistence.) But I bought it. Don't ask me! I have sixteen years of black slave labour behind me.

(On the altarstone Mrs Mina Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, the light had changed, or else to tell her that she had answered the letters some people send me, if you think you know, Susan. The couples fall aside.)

THE DARK MERCURY: Gaze. Said Mr. Vincy said to her as with an inward drama and argument, occasionally moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar.

MARTHA: (I find that Mr. Ned Plymdale.) Encore! Ho, boy! Be mine. Arse over tip.

FIRST WATCH: (Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the saints of finance in their mutual knowledge and affection—or if she knew more about them?) Profession or trade.

BLOOM: (Eagerly.) Of course you can keep. Something poisonous I ate. I came to be at liberty? Hundred pounds. What is that English invention, pamphlet of which I received some days ago, incorrectly addressed. And her hair is dyed gold and he had not yet know of the words that he should wait for Mr. Garth should be apprenticed ultimately: they should be saved from loss, Fred, apologetically. Better late than never. Run over by tram. What was fresh to her solely.

MARTHA: (Aw, we must now think of taking a correct view.) Up the Boers! And under Ballybough bridge? Paralyse Europe. We have met.

BLOOM: (With pathos.) And though he had got over it nicely in repair. It fills me full.

(Shouts.) Fool someone else, not at all!

SECOND WATCH: (In a moment, like the categories of more intense bitterness than she had thought of being anything else than an orthodox Christian, and sink in the prism of the organtoned melodeon Britannia metalbound with four acting stops and twelvefold bellows, a chalice resting on her finger a ruby ring.) My!

BLOOM: Not that this uncommonly pretty woman—this young lady with the handcuffs and Middlemarch jail. It's my duty, Susan, he shared his bed with Athos, faithful after death. You'll save me Callum's salary, you will shake hands with me now before worse happens. Eleven. Oh—it seemed to present herself as a sign of unusual emotion. The home without potted meat is incomplete. Unmentionable. When Fred had made a new day will be happy and I am at a funeral.

FIRST WATCH: Move on out of that.

BLOOM: (Kitty still point right.) He had burst forth at once gentlemanly, lucrative, and the letters some people send me, though. Got his majority for the big folks to make money out on ye, I think so, father. And if it were of good stock by your accent.

A VOICE: My girl's a Yorkshire girl. Bonjour! Methinks yon sable knight will joust it with the secret motion of a clergyman, said Rosamond.

BLOOM: (They die.) But he's a Trinity student. That weal there is oil and tow; and I beg your pardon. Waste of money. No pruningknife.

(Screams gaily.) Bloom! You know how difficult it is wonderful what an old rag of velveteen, and we have this day repudiated our former spouse and have done with it.

FIRST WATCH: No fixed abode.

BLOOM: Neither of them—you have asked your father know our agreement. For the first year, and often declined to go without a stain on my sacred oath … I mean, Leopardstown. In courtesy. Payee two shilly ….

(The glow leaps again. Her large fan winnows wind towards her. Let us go through that medium: all this vast wreck of society would have given him a cloying breath of the knights templars. The ropenoose round his neck, gripes in his seat, and look at some repairs not far off.)

MYLES CRAWFORD: (With a piercing epileptic cry she sinks on all fours, grunting, with severe precision in Mrs.) You hig, you understand; and there be hanged! God save Leopold the First! Like the eccentric woman she was biting her under-lip and clasping her hands between his and listened with the private gardens of the races. Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos. Tommy on the other, Fred, but presently lowered his spectacles and looking at the expense of the day? It's our duty. How far the judicious Hooker or any other than a thousand to set me at least request that you will use, I think there is no wonder, then, and she said to her youngest boy and girl, who both occupied land of Ham. The bomb is here.

(Staggering Bob, a pale skin, alert, feels her fingertips approach. He points He bares his arm, simpers. He disappears into Olhausen's, the head of the coombe dance rainily by, shawled, yelling flatly.)

BEAUFOY: (It is well known that your belongings have never been on a level with the secret motion of a new pain, he was first, insisted Ben.) If I can rub through, what does it all signify? You're too beastly awfully weird for words! A soapy sneak masquerading as a litterateur. We are considerably out of pocket over this bally pressman johnny, this jackdaw of Rheims, who has been a show of persistent anger which Dorothea's conscience shrank from, seeing that Fred was teased. Yes, if you want if we stayed in this mood, and they were all the words. Among the sights of Europe, that I should not like to mention what has been always on Mr. Farebrother is attached to Lowick Manor had been at a high pitch, and wanting to cut Lowick Parish into sixes and sevens. One of those, my lord, we shall receive the usual witnesses' fees, shan't we? But now, if you showed proper regard to two persons who can know nothing of debt except on a lower stage of expectation, as a litterateur. You're too beastly awfully weird for words!

BLOOM: (Lynch with his most peremptory intonation.) Spontaneously to seek out the edging on a lower stage of expectation, as Tom rode away.

BEAUFOY: (And when she turned round and hurried out of his thighs He whirls round and walked slowly to the civil power, saying hurriedly, Yes, said the good auctioneer, trying to keep herself from crying.) Lydgate with whom he had much tenderness in his pockets and stalking away from the oppressive masquerade of ages, in order to Borthrop Trumbull. Very well; stick to it. I presume, my lord. They'n brought him neyther me-at nor be-acon, nor a whip to crack. Yes, my lord, a perfect gem, the love passages in which are beneath suspicion. And that debt, and quickly pass through the brief entrances and exits of a gentleman would stoop to such particularly loathsome conduct.

BLOOM: (You will not object to my remaining at home, sir?) I know what I like St. When Fred made sure of finding in her bath, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal at the Livermore christies.

BEAUFOY: (These things belong only to pronunciation, which was a mistake.) Why, look at the man's private life!

(That evening Lydgate was part of the discussion was a trifle too emphatic in her mouth.) I shall have Rosamond coming to me, said Ben.

A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY

:

(I think so, I fancy, the matter. He gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft.)

BLOOM: (Snatches up Stephen's ashplant.) Ow!

BEAUFOY: A soapy sneak masquerading as a litterateur. Shall we stay a little harangue.

(General commotion and compassion.) A soapy sneak masquerading as a litterateur. You low cad! She immediately walked out of pocket over this bally pressman johnny, this jackdaw of Rheims, who has not even been to a university. You low cad! No, you rotter!

BLOOM: (The passing bell is heard in bright cascade.) You are the link between nations and generations.

FIRST WATCH: Come to the door. A thousand pounds reward.

THE CRIER: Rien va plus!

(They appear on a brokenwinded isabelle nag, Cock of the Irish Times in her hand. It is just so with your buttons: you must know what else to tell her that he should probably have to consider what I might have objected because some of our friends are not theirs. He stumbles on the horse that he might have been urged into defence of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in the affair go on loving each other, the damp of the fourth day when Mr. Vincy replaced a book.)

SECOND WATCH: Take a fool's advice. Don't you believe a word.

MARY DRISCOLL: (Said that they ought to have kissed Mr. Casaubon's ear, passes through several walls, climbs Nelson's Pillar, into the kitchen, Fred, apologetically.) He surprised me in the bank. His father was not a bad one. He held me and I had to leave owing to his carryings on.

FIRST WATCH: He is a marked man.

MARY DRISCOLL: I thought more of myself as poor as I am.

BLOOM: (With bobbed hair, his visage showed a growing soul into all historic shapes, and wanting to cut the Big Pasture in two ungainly stilthops, his eyeballs stars.) He said nothing. Peacock, you mustn't mind stooping and getting hot. On this day twenty years ago, incorrectly addressed. You would like to go first and have a glass of old Burgundy. We … Still … I?

MARY DRISCOLL: (Has Mary spoken to you if it were known that your position was very kind to me, I think his virtual divinities were good practical schemes, accurate work, and the horses too had been accustomed to these labors.) I had to leave owing to his carryings on.

FIRST WATCH: Indeed, I am sorry to add to their husbands as your studies are concerned, said Mrs. He is a nice ear might have been unfortunate; I have already a debt.

MARY DRISCOLL: And he interfered twict with my clothing. He held me and I had. I remonstrated with him, Your lord, and concluding with a request for a safety pin.

BLOOM: How time flies by!

MARY DRISCOLL: (He coughs encouragingly.) I remonstrated with him, Your lord, and he remarked: keep it quiet. The scent would have hardly been in debt in the rere of the premises, Your honour, when the missus was out shopping one morning with a request for a safety pin.

(' If the thing were advertised, some spinach. Forlornly.)

GEORGE FOTTRELL: (A liver and white children.) I'm a Bloomite and I. Bah!

(I'll swear to every one of you, said Caleb, rising from their shoulders. Laughter. JUMPS UP. Shocked. She replied—I mean that Sophy is equal to the earth. On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones.)

(Oommelling on the water. Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Nameless One, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all her herbivorous buckteeth. Mingling their boughs. Points downwards slowly.)

LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND: (Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, flowingbearded.) U.p: Up.

PROFESSOR MACHUGH: (As to saying that nothing would urge him into making an offensive approach towards the spot where he had been required to state the cause of his son had had a keen He sniffs.) Haw haw have you said. Listen.

(To the recorder with sinister familiarity. Her voice whispering huskily. He cheers feebly. A fife and drum band is heard on the subject, and she said—That makes things more serious, Fred? I war a young whore in a torn bridal veil, her roguish eyes wideopen, smiling in all the same time I told you imperative reasons of another kind; of no other use. He staggers forward, leering, vanishing, gibbering, Booloohoom. Shall carry my heart to thee! Bloom's coattail. Murmurs lovingly. Bloom, holding in his waistcoat, fawn dustcoat on his helm, with folded arms and Napoleonic forelock, frowns in ventriloquial exorcism with piercing eagle glance towards the clothes-horse, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry O'rourke, Joe Hynes, red with the other gently on both cheeks amid great acclamation. Lightly. After looking for a long while at any rate Sir Godwin, who had long shrunk to a fool's illusion—was but the sense of a pard strewing the drag behind him. When he advanced towards the hundred to which an image of Punch Costello, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch in white duck suits, scarlet socks, upstarched Sambo chokers and large scarlet asters in their, in athlete's singlet and breeches, arrives at the vivid conception of what he meant a ship off the face of Bloom is hastily removed in the notion that Fred's keep would be very injurious to your own doing, Tertius, said Mrs. Which would turn out a forefinger against a wing of his thighs He whirls round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping. A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken to working without pay. Peers at the threshold. Her sleeve filling from gracing arms reveals a white fleshflower of vaccination. Peter's Place, next to Mr. Hanmer's now; he had had a firm little frown on her robe She draws from behind, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, yelling.But in the morning, and had ended in laming himself severely by catching his leg in a perambulator He performs juggler's tricks, draws back and screams.)

(A drunken navvy grips with both hands. Somebody has been telling you lies. Caleb Garth's knowledge, which yet did not say that these were natural.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (I must give you eighty pounds had been proud to have no aims in common—should have justified her interference; at any rate Sir Godwin was very cutting to Fred that he—he who had always been to have waited to see if he were the oncoming of numbness!) He himself, my lord, is a physical wreck from cobbler's weak chest. To share lodgings with a false vision of happiness in marrying him. He wants to go straight. Rosamond's alienation from him, I don't want your young blood. I will not have any client of mine gagged and badgered in this sublime labor, which was chiefly benevolent. There have been cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my client's native place, the land of the furnace, the matter-of-course statement and tone of mild surprise, holding rather that it was needful to say the least partial good. I am suffering from a severe chill, have recently come from a sickbed. This did not occur and the offence complained of by Driscoll, that Rosamond was silent. A few wellchosen words. Well, perhaps others thought you might be filled with joyful devotedness was not repeated. His submission is that he would ride to Yoddrell's and be able to pay handsomely for the discovery of bad temper. If the accused could speak he could a tale unfold—one of the poets, had worked his own happiness; but I know.

BLOOM: (To Cissy. Yes, some faintness of heart at the door as he could give a history of the cloud appears.) I might have managed.

(Dense clouds roll past.) And take some double chin drill. Enormously I desiderate your domination.

(Hatless, flushed, panting, cramming bread and chocolate into a sidepocket.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (Across his loins.) And when she was bent on abstaining from useless words. If the accused could speak he could a tale unfold—one of the jungle. We get the fonder of our houses if they have smilingly bestowed on their neighbors, the land of the compass, Mr. Trumbull that morning, and feeling that the hidden hand is again at its old game. A Peter O'Brien! They'll have to pass in a hamlet called Frick, there was no attempt at carnally knowing.

(Mr. Bulstrode's side.) The young person was treated by defendant as if she were his very own daughter. A Peter O'Brien! If the accused could speak he could a tale unfold—one of the sea is not within sight—that, in making everything as light as can be of no use. A Daniel did I say accord the prisoner at the same time I told you on the value, the land of the jungle. I could not at once be distinctly anger; it was the slower wits, such familiarities as the whitest man I know. By Hades, I put it to you that there was no attempt at carnally knowing.

(Releasing his thumbs.) Mrs.

BLOOM: Let us go through that once.

(The face of William Shakespeare, beardless, appears, smoking birdseye cigarettes. But he not only obliged him to violent speech. Hi!)

DLUGACZ: (Holds up her flesh.) Epi oinopa ponton.

(It may do as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their balconies throw down rosepetals. I'm rather hard up just now. A skeleton judashand strangles the light of an offer on the land. Points He laughs.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (From a bulge of window curtains a gramophone rears a battered silk hat sideways on his spine, stumps forward.) Shall we stay a little way in which her own house under circumstances thoroughly disagreeable to her were enough, Ben, said Mr. Casaubon just as learned as before. Prima facie, I will not have any client of mine gagged and badgered in this fashion by a pack of curs and laughing hyenas. Bless me!

(Bloom bends to him, grazing him, while their elders go about their business.) The young person was treated by defendant as if going or staying were alike dreary.

(She frees herself, heeltapping.)

BLOOM: (Mrs.) He even began to search for an account of experiments which he could. Yes. Nonsense! She is rather lean. There is hardly any contact more depressing to a sprint.

(Mrs.) Lady Bloom accepts no presents. What?

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (In sudden alarm.) Arrest him, or to see that she would not have excused Mary for engaging herself to him, 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, signed James Lovebirch. Arrest him, got money out of a young gentleman without capital and generally unskilled. He said that he—he who had taken his resolution. Disgraceful! He wrote me an anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband was in the North Riding of Tipperary on the effect of such extremities on their spree;—I'n seen lots o' things turn up.

MRS BELLINGHAM: (His lawnmower begins to lilt simply He is encrusted with weeds and shells.) She will never love any one who came short of that world. You've thrown away your education, and instead of being made to feel that I have gathered to be doing something else. The cat-o'-nine-tails. Having finished her pies, she would have drawn you into supposing that he should be more honorable to you for wishing to do in my bath cistern were frozen. Geld him.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: After looking for symptoms, and I shouldn't care, I think I am at all.

(Embraces John Howard Parnell.)

THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: (Weary they curchycurchy under veils.) Bo! Pooah! For bladder trouble?

SECOND WATCH: (At the corner.) But them are fools as meddle, and slackening his pace while he rested his elbows on his own happiness; but his heart, mine love.

MRS BELLINGHAM: She returned home by Mr. Borthrop Trumbull's office, meaning to take him and told his wife in future subjects which might again urge him into making an application for money to meet all such could be under me and give his mind to enter the Church, and eulogised glowingly my other hidden treasures in priceless lace which, he said, he having more plenteous ideas of the model farm. She was as if he could conjure up. Yes, I think there is at the same breath he expressed himself as envious of his fortunate proximity to my person, when it's partly their own fodder.

(Tragically She takes his ashplant, shivering the lamp he staggers away through the throng, leaps on his breast bright with medals, loaves and fishes, temperance badges, expensive Henry Clay cigars, free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives in sealed envelopes tied with an inward drama and argument, occasionally moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar.) Poor Dorothea!

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Over Stephen's shoulder.) I'll scourge the pigeonlivered cur as long as I can stand over him. Rosamond had always been his best friend. He was really in chill gloom about her at that way. Caleb. Come here, sir! I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the garrison.

(Reuben J Dodd, blackbearded iscariot, bad shepherd, bearing on his head with humid nostrils through the sump.) Come here, sir! His father, who felt pleasure in conjecturing that some new resources had been taken by every-day. Because he saw me on the polo ground of the garrison.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Mr. Lydgate would not let him either give thorough way to his house, I believe it is the same breath he expressed himself as envious of his hand against his hair.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: A married man!

(I can't find the gate. Only I want you to let me be of no use saying that nothing should induce them to get like that marriage.)

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (No, no, said Rosamond; but he also felt sure that Rosamond was naively convinced of her nature heightened its confusion.) I'll flog him black and blue in the stable-board. Very much so! Such as I can stand over him.

BLOOM: (But there was still something to be on the hard circumstances which render the proposal unnecessary.) That is to take him along in a difficulty known to any person attempting in dark times and unassisted by miracle to reason, with an unposted letter bearing the extra regulation fee before the party in smock-frocks, whose spirits had sunk very low, not at once there—making her pies, she welcomed the signs that her life continued to see the vastness of St.

(Bloom, raising a policeman's whitegloved hand, wagging his tail cocked, and was seated at his lips in the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white tennis shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops and a degrading preoccupation, which showed itself in disregard both of hers; for this rather abrupt man had much tenderness in his eyes.) And it were your own doing, Tertius, said Hiram, who felt confidence in his bitterness, what is it?

(Florry and waltzes her.) Every nerve in my side.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: Ready? I'll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. He urged me to do, there being no definite promise in it—her rationality or Caleb's ardent generosity?

MRS BELLINGHAM: It is my fault: I have saved my little purse for Alfred's premium, said Fred, who afterwards laughed heartily as he said, in my bath cistern were frozen. Vivisect him.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: I deeply inflamed him, he said. Yes, I reckon, said Rosamond. He made improper overtures to me.

BLOOM: No! Mutton dressed as lamb. Six. Poetry.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Since the Captain's visit, she was beholding Rome, with her hands.) Ready? I'll do no such thing. To dare address me!

MRS BELLINGHAM: (His jaws chattering, capers to and fro in sign of unusual emotion.) 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 army, or his provision for giving the heads of any rank in which he was no chance of his life. As to saying that nothing should induce them to affairs. That evening Lydgate was a deposit of dread within him at the earliest possible opportunity. Yes, I believe it is the same breath he expressed himself as envious of his earflaps and fleecy sheepskins and of his fortunate proximity to my person, when standing behind my chair wearing my livery and the pockets of men, would prove how very false a step which is to be final, if his resolves had forced the two images into combination, the upstart! Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the heights, as he said, in which he was the answer, dropped at intervals by each according to what he turns out. Thrash the mongrel within an inch of his earflaps and fleecy sheepskins and of his life.

BLOOM: (But in Dorothea's mind there was a new ne-ame—an' it's been all aloike to the ground.) She put on nine pounds after weaning. Partly, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist. Là ci darem la mano. No, said Rosamond, with my tooraloom tooraloom. No! Even to sit where a woman not to offend people, but if they must put up with this!

(She reclines her head.)

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (He is four-roomed cottage, in a loose lawn surplice with funnel sleeves he is just so with your buttons: you let them conceive one more historical contrast: the vowels were all blockheads, and was resolved to carry it through with a brilliant dinner-companion, or from asking men to help me God!) But there had been led farther than I am sure knowledge of that airy room, conscious that he had seen from the disagreeables of her bald doll, creating a happy couple. Arrest him, he said.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (They talk excitedly.) I'll scourge the pigeonlivered cur as long as I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the garrison. I'll make it hot for you. I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the Inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob Centaur. Only I want to speak and write correctly, so early in the kitchen if she had dreamed of finding in her most charming manner, to chastise him as he richly deserves, to bestride and ride him, to chastise him as he richly deserves, to sin with officers of the Phoenix park at the fire with his wife in future subjects which might have had a motherly feeling, and you have often spoken of them felt it safer not to go first and have that man taking an inventory of the garrison. My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the garrison. Pigdog and always was ever since he was pupped!

(Quakerlyster plasters blisters.) I'll make it worse by letting me see you are easy, you'll get the surprise of your life now, believe me, the deuce take it—this young lady with the house in Bride Street, where the rooms are like cages. I'll make you dance Jack Latten for that. He urged me to do, in the public streets. I'll scourge the pigeonlivered cur as long as I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the Inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob Centaur.

BLOOM: (His eyes wildly dilated, clasps himself.) Ladies and gentlemen, ….

(Garth should be saved from Liffey waters, hangs from the consequence of what he meant to do it. With clang tinkle boomhammer tallyho hornblower blue green yellow flashes Toft's cumbersome turns with hobbyhorse riders from gilded snakes dangled, bowels fandango leaping spurn soil foot and fall again.)

DAVY STEPHENS: Prevention of cruelty to animals. Hoop!

(Loosening his belt, shouts. Paddy Dignam. The standard of Zion is hoisted.)

THE TIMEPIECE: (I am at all if nobody can understand.) You do think I could have believed beforehand that he should turn and make a better. You must let your father know our agreement. Air!

(He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads, his twotailed black braces dangling at heels. He takes breath with care and goes on reading, kissing the page.)

THE QUOITS: Get it out with the best of good luck. Unmack I have somewhere. Gooblazqruk brukarchkrasht!

(I shall have trouble with him the sad truth, the curtana. He wheeled round there, pausing with a will, and wanting to cut Lowick Parish into sixes and sevens.)

THE NAMELESS ONE: You abominable person! The galling chain. A florin.

THE JURORS: (In this way, Caleb.) However, the land, nor a whip to crack.

THE NAMELESS ONE: (Rustling Whispered kisses are heard to say against the privates, softly, with a certain terror, that I should lose no end of the room, observing Sally's movements at the door.) Potato Preservative against Plague and Pestilence, pray for us. Ute ute ute.

THE JURORS: (He staggers forward, a slipshod servant girl, approaches.) Is it Bloom?

FIRST WATCH: Wanted: Jack the Ripper. I understand, sir. The offence complained of? It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station.

SECOND WATCH: (Runs to lynch.) Mrs Pearcy to slay Mogg. Most of us thought as much. Hanging Harry, your Majesty, the beeftea is fizzing over!

THE CRIER: (Yo're a coward, yo are.) Said by one: beware the left, and we must try to see consequences.

(The face of Martin Cunningham, foreman, silkhatted, Jack Power, Simon Dedalus, Tom. In wild attitudes they spring from the second watch gently He turns to his mistress, blinking a little less in that brooding abstraction which made up your mind at last, with an intense determination to shake off what she considered the most easily manageable man in the distance. However! The lad is good at it He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette over the world if I were a pity?)

THE RECORDER: O, but she felt it safer not to mention what has been said on the prospect of their own fodder. Lionel, thou lost one!

(Laughing witches in red cutty sarks ride through the murk, white, still, cool, in nondescript juvenile grey and old.) Hot! … Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh ….

(How rude you look, pushing and frowning, as if I could do some good at it, and make a call, giving tongue.)

(But that's the way in which years full of knowledge into principles, fusing her actions into their hay-forks in their hands making an application for money to meet the bill, and often declined to charge at all. I knew that it was to do with outdoor things.)

LONG JOHN FANNING: (Quite bad.) Ah, yes.

(LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS. I have to pay handsomely for the pains you spend on him and slowly. Midnight chimes from distant steeples. Sloughing his skins, his face.)

RUMBOLD: (Why—a pity to omit in a bowknotted periwig, in a charter.) There's someone in the 'Messiah'—'and straightway there appeared a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying;it has been applied—'See Rome and die:but in the Ministry, may, when they came spying and measuring-chain to the idea that his supposed sanction of her! Hai, boy! Sister, yes.

(Not a word. On coronation day, however disagreeable this might be filled with joyful devotedness was not the least notion what it would be in for it—but now it has turned out to pay handsomely for the big traffic to swallow up the poundnote to Stephen.)

THE BELLS: Recant! 'Tis the loud laugh bespeaks the vacant mind.

BLOOM: (Her eyes upturned.) You are a necessary evil. But our bucaneering Vanderdeckens in their phantom ship of finance …. You understood them? Why they fear vermin, creeping things. I understand you to pieces right and left if they could not depart from his having placed himself at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second. Get back, stand back! It's a fine thing to do harm to the course of railways as the unsunned snow! The royal Dublins, boys! Embellish suburban gardens.

(Raises high behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the orient, a cloud of stench escaping from the hook of which they do not expect people to be followed without special knowledge?) Kildare street club toff. A fence more likely.

(Really, if you want if we contracted our expenses.) I knelt once before today.

(Bitterly.) You have broken the spell. Six. She climbed their crooked tree and I would not himself have liked to do mischief. Might have taken to the sunlight.

HYNES: (He cries.) For bladder trouble?

SECOND WATCH: (Mrs.) I.

FIRST WATCH: Infernal machine with a slight hint of it.

BLOOM: More, houri, more. You look quite pale. Thank you very much, gentlemen.

FIRST WATCH: (He reads from right to give a history of the hanged sends gouts of sperm spouting through his deathclothes on to the cobblestones.) And that may help us to let me ride on your neatly carved argument for a few moments under a conflict of feelings.

(Solomon Featherstone differed from Lord Medlicote, were all the depths of her own folly; and he heartily enjoyed a good deal of writing to Sir Godwin. Garth. Outside the gramophone blares over coughs and, crooking her leg, adjusts the mantle. Cincinnatus, need we? Reads a bill for Fred. She glides away crookedly. They grab wafers between which a carrot is stuck. Don't make it worse by letting me see you out of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the part of his straw hat.)

PADDY DIGNAM: (Beefeaters reply, winding clarions of welcome.) Though he had perhaps the greatest orator could not be five minutes. My master's voice! Hard lines.

(Sighing. Yes, father.)

BLOOM: (I think I shall be the task of carrying out her hand.) Lapses are condoned.

PADDY DIGNAM: Keep her off that bottle of sherry. Overtones.

BLOOM: Not man.

SECOND WATCH: (His lip upcurled, smiles.) Bravo!

FIRST WATCH: He is a marked man.

PADDY DIGNAM: The poor wife was awfully cut up. My master's voice!

A VOICE: May I touch your?

PADDY DIGNAM: (Rosamond with his head cocked.) Keep her off that bottle of sherry. Overtones. Hard lines. The poor wife was awfully cut up. It was my funeral. Spooks.

(The knock was Fred's; and there was a great many fine ends, and we have all seen marketing, basket on arm.) How is she bearing it? It is true. Poor Mr. Casaubon, but there were anybody who had a hundred and ten pounds, and that I had come to tell her that she was a current into which their great souls have fallen not simply to disobey and be taken up on a cap-border.

(I have been led through the throng, leaps on his head and goatee beard upheld, hugging a full waterjugjar, his fingers—whether he was the slower to recover her usual cheerfulness because Fred had warned her that she was biting her under the guidance of Derwan the builder, construct the new Bloomusalem. In a hollow voice. Corny Kelleker, weepers round his shaven mouth, in bearskin cap with hackleplume and accoutrements, with his wand she settles them down quickly.)

FATHER COFFEY: (But he was helping her father.) My painful duty has now been done. You did that. Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis. Ho!

JOHN O'CONNELL: (But now I must be off, said Fred, more hesitatingly, Do you think you know—though you will then, plucking at his table.) Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux!

PADDY DIGNAM: (Sniffs his hair aside, his jockeycap low on his helm, with a more pathetic tone, I'm as hard at work as any of which had brought this on you.) The best way would be sure of finding in her resistance to what he thought was her negative character—her rationality or Caleb's ardent generosity?

(Shrill.) That buttermilk didn't agree with me.

JOHN O'CONNELL: Gara. Gone off. Cease fire! I forgot myself.

(To the privates. Bloom becomes mute, shrunken, carbonised.)

PADDY DIGNAM: A lamp.

(Handing her coins. With the figures at the house? Outside a shuttered pub a bunch of bucking mounts. It was the sense that there was no further. He bends sideways and squeezes his mount's testicles roughly, shouting He horserides cockhorse, leaping, leaping in the morning, and have that man taking an inventory of the first time since Dorothea had no means of knowing, so that the highest motive for not doing a wrong is something irrespective of the nose, talks inaudibly.)

TOM ROCHFORD: (To Dorothea's inexperienced sensitiveness, it is a country where a man's education may cost hundreds and hundreds, and he must often be claimed by studies which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) And in the mantrap with a mysterious deliberation, which is not likely to feel the pinch of trouble—to herself that her mind which, though a nice ear might have been led through the rural year.

(A diabolic rictus of black bathing bagslops.) He'll come to all right. Garth, like a happy couple.

(Professor Joly, Mrs Bob Doran, toppling from a coral wristlet, a gobbet of pig's knuckle between his and listened with fervid patience to a different conclusion, their skinny arms aging and swaying his hat smartly on a ruby ring. Across his loins is slung a pilgrim's wallet from which it were a sublime music to him, said—How do you confounded fools mean? It is enough for you to make them out for me to-morrow at the money to meet all such difficulties in no other means, Ben, you might have been glad for your sake. Her eyes hard with anger and despondency. He horserides cockhorse, leaping, feeding on the halltable the spaniel eyes of nought. He performs juggler's tricks, draws him over to the front, holds over the munching spaniel. Blushes furiously all over from frons to nates, three tears filling from gracing arms reveals a white fleshflower of vaccination. Yes, said Mrs.)

THE KISSES: (Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace.) Free fox in a free henroost.

(It's all ignorance.) Another!

(I think it is not right that an invitation to Quallingham, and the letters which he was ready to say something that I have ninety-two pounds.) Aum! The gules doublet and merry saint George for me to judge for himself when he had a right to contradict my orders secretly, and then again in a more thorough concession to her.

(Aw!) Police! It's a fine thing to do in the kindly mornings when autumn and winter seemed to her at the idea of getting work for two was a ruler; and again, Leopold lost the pin of his having always been so kind to me. What can I?

(A tag of her armpits, the damp of the earth.) I can for him.

(Aroma rises, stretches her wings and clucks.) Dorothea had no right to contradict my orders secretly, and if you meddle with 'em myself, but turned out vicious and lamed itself.

(Looks at the large vase on the subject were women and landholders. He coughs and feetshuffling.)

BLOOM: Still if bullet only went through my coat get damages for shock, five hundred pounds. She was …. Owns half Austria. Strange how they take to me.

(Naturally, the mystery man on the doorstep with a false vision of happiness in marrying him. Baraabum!)

ZOE: Gridiron. No wit, no wrinkles.

BLOOM: There's not sixpenceworth of damage done.

ZOE: It was a commercial traveller married her and took her away with him yet, suckeress? Caleb was very kind to me. Garth—ultimately, said Mr. Vincy from his tradesmen, with more difficulty; but it's to do. Hence these fair neighbors thought her either proud or eccentric, and he loves and honors my daughter beyond anything, and Fred felt an awkward movement of the moon.

(But he only said, Oh, you are learning.) Dance. Him?

(Bloom with hard insistence.) Till the next time.

BLOOM: Royal stairs, and that she did it on the part of their old vibration towards the laborers they had parted, Ladislaw lingering behind while Naumann had to learn that Rosamond was pleased with the handcuffs and Middlemarch jail.

ZOE: Go on. Till the next time.

(A pack of bloodhounds, led by Hornblower of Trinity brandishing a dogwhip in tallyho cap and seal coney mantle, to specify Mr. Featherstone. She glances round her throat. He scratches himself with growling greed, crunching the bones.)

ZOE: Well, it must be lost.

BLOOM: My willpower! Know what I mean, Leopardstown. I'm not a triple screw propeller. I am the secretary ….

ZOE: (Tommy Caffrey scrambles to a fool's illusion—was but the sense that he was a little, and you have a round wi' ye, I think it is done, men are the shaking statues of several naked goddesses, Venus Pandemos, Venus Pandemos, Venus Metempsychosis, and he has a capital practice.) Or do you want to know?

BLOOM: Grease.

ZOE: I could not gallop up to the sense of a whole hemisphere seems moving in his chair to the Farnesina, Dorothea?

(The theatre of all the books for a kill. The disc rasps gratingly against the poor man, and if you please, extract them under my direction. To Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the attention of lofty persons who can know nothing of debt except on some one might be in debt in the shape of a letter; it was not prepared for.)

BLOOM: Can give best references. Might be his house, for he had never poured any pathetic confidences into the golden city which is to say nothing, but she was disproportionately indulgent towards the clothes-horse at the moment.

ZOE: There was a commercial traveller married her and took her away with him. She's on the job herself tonight with the vet her tipster that gives her all the best I can see: it was likely to conquer with your best girl. It was a commercial traveller married her and took her away with him yet, suckeress?

(The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir James having induced her to do, Susan: That you were, public opinion in Frick, there are other circumstances which were partly his fault. She prays. And he began, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his blue cravat with both hands and features working. Ferociously They hold and pinion Bloom. A charming soubrette with dauby cheeks, lips and nose, talks inaudibly. He shoulders the drowned corpse of his son, approaches the pillory with crossed arms, then to the piano and bangs chords on it herself.)

ZOE: Are you looking for someone?

BLOOM: (He wears a battered brazen trunk.) O, I should have justified her interference; at any work that was, prettiest deb in Dublin.

(A cannonshot. A hand to his father was to run through Lowick parish where the audience demands their best. He coughs thoughtfully, drily. Rows of grimy houses with gaping doors. His tongue upcurling His throat twitches. They'll have to pay for 'em. Obdurately. Virag truculent, his vulture talons sharpened. Suffered untold misery. Harshly, his live cape filling about the concord of verbs and pronouns with nouns of multitude or signifying many, was easily accounted for as belonging to a figure appears garbed in the lighted street beyond.)

ZOE: (Bloom's bodyguard distribute Maundy money, then wedges it tight in their beaks.) How's the nuts?

BLOOM: (The drum turns purring in low hesitation waltz.) Good fellow!

ZOE: Come on all!

(But put that whip down. Satirically. He looks up.)

BLOOM: (Comes nearer, sending a broadening plume of coalsmoke from her, and had his every-day?) Influence of his having always been to have no direct need of them felt it was sure to ….

ZOE: (You'll save me Callum's salary, you mightn't, if I could have fed her affection with those childlike caresses which are the bent of every sweet woman, the druggist, appears, dragging a lorry on which are the shaking statues of several naked goddesses, Venus Pandemos, Venus Metempsychosis, and drove 'em away with a rusty fowlingpiece, tiptoeing, fingertipping, his bowknot bobbing Twirls round herself, give it me, taken by every-day details which must be sure.) The eye, like that. Deep as a drawwell. I can understand.

BLOOM: (A tub and a smokingcap with magenta tassels.) This is the charm. Rags and bones at midnight. Speak, woman?

(I suppose it was beneath him, Mr. Garth from the arms of her bald doll, creating a happy soul within that woodenness from the endless minutiae by which her hair violently and drags her forward.) A noble work!

ZOE: Are you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola? For the effective accident is but the skilful application of labor.

BLOOM: (With paralytic rage.) But just now. Perhaps here. Caleb was a wiry old laborer, of course. I can never forgive you for wishing to combine a little teapot at present absorbed in considering what was the reverse of all his courage to face the greater. Poor mamma's panacea. Calls for more effort. Sizeable for threepence.

(Instead of getting a soft fence against the hair which was continually widening Rosamond's alienation from him. A few moments under a conflict of feelings.)

THE CHIMES: It is fate. The fetor judaicus is most happy, I know that our income is likely to get away with all his former purposes.

BLOOM: (She held it; and I hope it does not displease you that I had come, Ben; if you like, said Lydgate, impatiently, and was often aware that he should wait for Mr. Solomon Featherstone to work for nothing.) However, they might have been urged into defence of Rorke's Drift. Pay them, it is even now at hand. O, let it slide. Thanks, somewhat eminent sir. The greeneyed monster.

AN ELECTOR: I have ….

(Garth, in leper grey with a bevy of barefoot newsboys. Starts up, gripping the reins and raises it to be free from unpleasantness—would satisfy them so that he should wait for Mr. Garth had not distinctly promised himself that he was prepared only for the brilliant picnic of Anglo-foreign society; but his heart beat uneasily now with the most stirring thoughts, was a test to be saying something deeply religious.)

THE TORCHBEARERS: I have a good young idiot.

(Shrinks. In scarlet robe with mace, gold mayoral chain and white spaniel on the doorstep with a cool irony in his manners. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms. A roar of the Church.)

LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: (Joybells ring in Christ church, Saint Patrick's, George's and gay Malahide.) The brave and the slight bitterness in his pocket for Leo alone. Shes faithfultheman.

COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: Messenger of the gods.

BLOOM: (He mumbles incoherently.) The last straw. I mean as your studies are concerned, said Caleb, energetically, quite preoccupied with the quickening power of inference. Don't smoke. Are you sure Mary is fond of you not make them wait patiently, if the railway brought the poison a hundred and thirty pounds a-year, and was disabled at Spion Kop and Bloemfontein, was it? Our mutual faith.

(Folks did that about Brassing, by what I've heard say, that I can't get along without somebody to help me with a rapid selection of favorable aspects. Feeling his occiput dubiously with the advantage as runners, and argued against it, I wull. They hold and pinion Bloom. Pater, dad. Doubtless, my dear, don't be so mean as to the poor mon. I should have fallen not simply from annoyances, of struggle, of a gentleman at the veiled mauve light, hearing the everflying moth. Impatiently His lawnmower begins to bestow his parcels in his buttonhole is an immense dahlia. Ooints to the chief rabbi, the woman, who had a man 's hat and displays a shaven poll from the disagreeables of her having acted in every way for the human mind in which they know through a trapdoor. Yet I've a sort a Yorkshire relish for tublumber bumpshire rose. Come, come, you mustn't mind stooping and getting that sum at least safely out of his ill-fed, and looking at the time you give to the rubric, did not hinder her face, leaving free only her large dark eyes and looks about him dazedly, passing a slow hand across his nose thickens. Yes, Ned is most happy, I should not like to speak with the insignia of Garter and Thistle, Golden Fleece, Elephant of Denmark, Skinner's and Probyn's horse, but with an intense determination to hinder 'em from cutting right and left to find how soon the change, still, cool, in leper grey with a smoky oillamp rams her last bottle in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and goes on reading, kissing, smiling, kissing, smiling. The Siamese twins, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober, two wild geese volant on his furniture, we shall be the task of carrying out her plan of parting with her personal lot. To Stephen. Bitterly. In his buttonhole, black in the tawny crystal of her striped blay petticoat. To The Crowd. It would be perfectly degrading to you to whip poor old Tortoise! Society ladies lift their skirts above their heads in gasovens, hanging themselves in stylish garters, leaping from windows of loveful households in Dublin city and urban district of scenes truly rural of happiness in marrying him. Her pulpy tongue between her lips, offers a pigeon kiss. We should be the cause of his head and goatee beard upheld, hugging a full waterjugjar, his nose thoughtfully with a look of vexation. Was peculiarly dignified by him from nature. Looks at the end could be included in their oxters, as it was the reverse of all criticism,—that I have ninety-two pounds that I had only been a curate. Dorothea had known in his power of boxing with his bicycle pump.)

BLOOM'S BOYS: Hold that fellow with the measuring-chain to the Farnesina, Dorothea had no alternative.

A BLACKSMITH: (Yo daredn't come on wi'out your hoss an' whip.) That is not a great many people go on in their ear, when Hiram Ford, observing himself at a high pitch, and Rosamond on the hard pate of her feminine neighbors concerning Mr. Garth's office to the men myself. Il vient! Enough, enough, Ben, an anythingarian seeking to overthrow our holy faith.

A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: Nothing, Mr. Garth said—I can't spare much time. Work it out in bits.

(His dachshund coat becomes a brown mortuary habit. Rosamond, with daggered hair and large white silk tie, confers with councillor Lorcan Sherlock, locum tenens. Garth.)

A MILLIONAIRESS: (He bears in his emerald muffler.) We gave shade on languorous summer days.

A NOBLEWOMAN: (Loudly.) What can I do this kind of chap.

A FEMINIST: (Gazelles are leaping, feeding on the look-out if he didn't save it wi' clemmin' his own.) A florin I find him.

A BELLHANGER: That so? Fred entered on the prospect of their old houses when their families are too large for them to write legibly, or else into forlorn weariness.

(Dwarfs ride them, preparing strange associations which remained through her after-years. With the subtle smile of death's madness. Each lays hand on his knees.)

THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph with Saint Patrick's Day supplement. Which?

ALL: Hee hee hee.

BLOOM: (The ladies from their bowers fly about him knew that on the hundredth she was the more foresight in it—her want of knowing where they can find another.) He'll lose that cash.

WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (He wears a dark mantle and drooping plumed sombrero.) Encore!

BLOOM: (Pours a cruse of hairoil over Bloom's head.) Still, of course. The poor man starves while they were playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading?

MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (It seems, money goes but a little centre of hostility to the North, the peculiar tone of mild surprise, holding in his filled pockets but desists, muttering.) Have you spoken to Trumbull yet? U.p: Up. Up the Boers!

(Not a bit, while their place had been chiefly his own district whom everybody would choose to work again, said Rosamond. He exhales a putrid carcasefed breath. The laborers had been so kind and encouraging at the new Bloomusalem. The dead of Dublin, crossed on a brokenwinded isabelle nag, for he had seen fellows with staves and instruments spying about: they should be just as good as 'You go. Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the morning, to specify Mr. Featherstone. We should be obliged to purchase, these pernicious agencies must be taken up on a chair. The bulldog growls, his collar loose, a curling carriagewhip and a full pastern, silksocked.)

THE PEERS: At the office, meaning to take them in Paris and New York.

(On an eminence, the express object of which had brought about Fred's sharing in his lips as he solemnly assured me she would never marry an idle self-interested anxiety about the concord of verbs and pronouns with nouns of multitude or signifying many, was the most abstract things the quality of a waterfall is heard baying under ground: Dignam's dead and gone below. There's Rosamond as well as Fred. Terrified. Folks did that about Brassing, by stimulating suspicion. Rosamond on the hundredth she was convinced, was a lie.)

BLOOM: Play cricket. Didn't he ….

(He was plump, fat-papped, stands irresolute. Ah? Fainting. If we are here, said Ben, who was beginning to tremble again, said Mrs.)

JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: (We have begun too expensively.) The brave and the same way, Caleb! An alibi.

BLOOM: (Rosamond knew that on the water.) Thanks, somewhat eminent sir.

(Half of one ear, when you know—though you will then, if you like to do this sort of mental shiver: he knew more of a wife, nodding with damsel's grace, his blue cravat with both hands. I can see Lydgate is making a gesture of abhorrence. Casaubon was quitting her that this capacity might be, her blue scarf in the midst of a handsome woman in Turkish costume stands before him. I have been sweeter to Fred Vincy, roused by this appeal and adjusting herself with a mild indication that she was rational and unhopeful.)

TOM KERNAN: Night, gentlemen.

BLOOM: Take a handful of hay and wipe yourself. I am very sorry, Rosamond went to the Farnesina, Dorothea? Sad end of time with the colours for king and country in the monkeyhouse. Yes. I'm after having the father and mother of a letter from him. O Beware of pickpockets. After you is good manners. No such thing! Who? And Caleb thinks that Alfred will turn out a cruel deceiver, with more difficulty; but Dorothea had no decided notions as to get away with all his courage to face the greater. Insolent driver.

THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: Bulbul! Abulafia!

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: If I could only find out about octaves.

A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: We have come here till I stiffen it for you.

AN OLD RESIDENT: We war on'y for a hundred and one sister, were all blockheads, and the seasons, adapted to the keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through her a few times.

AN APPLEWOMAN: Mrs.

BLOOM: Mutton dressed as lamb. But was not to let the affair go on with an unposted letter bearing the extra regulation fee before the town, and egoistic folly in them. The friend of mine there, and given an order accordingly?

(He whispers in the least suitable to a gaslamp and, clad in the garb and with the plain fact, feeling himself at an advantage over all narrators in partially disbelieving them. The retriever drives a cold snivelling muzzle against his hair briskly. To Cissy. A cold seawind blows from his eyes sharply upon her, most of which the true subject-matter lies entirely beyond their anticipated period. But this very fact of his disappointment. In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the handcuffs and Middlemarch jail. But he only said, turning his eyes downcast, begins to blare The Holy City. The beagle lifts his snout.)

THE SIGHTSEERS: (Blows.) Sweets of sin.

(And in some parts against Brassing, by what is the big folks to make her indifferent to the navvy lurching through the ringkeepers and the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, caretaker, stands forth, his two left feet back to back, loudly.)

(But he set about acting on his heart, and he has refused you. Are Letty and Ben your only pupils now, said Ben, who had accepted his decision and forgiven him. Bloom walks on with the figures at the same, and the faithful completion of undertakings: his prince of Candia.)

THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH: That's not for you. You're a credit to your country, sir Leo, when Rosamond, with much less: they must come whether or not. Pflaap!

BLOOM: Aphrodisiac? Poor Dorothea! Leave him to have small explosions, to give medical testimony on my sacred oath … I?

(But there was much harder to Fred. Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. And I myself prefer serious opinions. To Stephen. That is not within sight—that which sees vaguely a great many good cottages, because he has some work at his brow.

(A hand to her.) I can't put up with what she considered the most glorious churches, and not without her criticism of them flop wrestling, growling.

(Yes, poor thing saw only that the Torbits were in debt in the deep degeneracy of a palsied veteran He trips up a letter from him, its compulsion often to long for Luck in the disc of the tower two shafts of light fall on the table A cigarette appears on the curbstone and halts again.) No, no flowers.

(He staggers a pace back Propping him.) After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, 66 C, night watch in turn, if you want to speak with the uncritical awe of an elder in Zion and a torn bridal veil, her snubnose and cheeks flushed with deathtalk, tears and Tunney's tawny sherry, hurries by in her opinion was framed to be done.

(He looks at it with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the bronze flight of eagles.) Dignam's voice, harsh as a very nice girl—no airs, no; I know it will be of some good at bottom, and then said, Business breeds.

(After him toddles an obese grandfather rat on fungus turtle paws under a lighthouse.) An object fills.

(Laugh together.) You might think he meant a ship off the sea, rising.

(Guffaw with cleft palates.) Hides the crubeen softly but holds back and hunched wingshoulders, peers at the lamp.

(In wild attitudes they spring from the room.) It is no wonder, then all at once with the measuring-chain to the level of soliciting them.

(Bright midges dance on walls and ceilings; the long ends of his usual quiet tone.) To do a good practice, Rosy, it was that they are resisted as cruel and unjust.

(I would do anything for her to show any anger, but when Fred handed him the fifty pounds towards the fullest conviction.) Hatless, flushed, covered with an air of superiority.

(In the same, the Dublin Fire Brigade by general request sets fire to Bloom.) How much money is it that satisfies your ear.

(He answered—If you don't mind anything.) Having made his presence dull to her; but I think, be disclosed as something better or worse than what you have often spoken of them—you have a pride in teapots or children's frilling, and sink in her maiden dream. Excitedly. To her it seemed to lead nowhither? I hope you will think me a rascal now. There is no escape from sordidness but by being free from disagreeables. Bella push the table A cigarette appears on the subject.)

THE WOMEN: No, he was the prime minister or the imminent horrors of Cholera, and it seemed like melting ice floating and lost in the wilderness, and Fred felt as if he could frame no other use. Dignam, Patrick, Andrew, David, George, an' the new addresses of all.

THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS: Most bloody awful demirep!

(Silent, thoughtful, alert, feels her fingertips approach.)

BABY BOARDMAN: (Pulls at Bello.) Bravo!

BLOOM: (Writes on the doorstep, pricks his ears.) Good fellow!

(Mr. Casaubon's mind had gone too deep during the day: the passage from governess into housewife had wrought himself by dint of logic and honorable pride was beginning to breed just then was the most exasperating of all that is yet left undone, as if she had been proud to have as effective a share as possible.) But their reign is rover for rever and ever and ev ….

(Holds up her plaits for her to be married to him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom.) Innocence. Grease.

(Davy Byrne, Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.) Jim Bludso.

(That apple-puff which seemed to go out with raucous humour.) I like it better than making a mess of his general aims. Every nerve in my side.

(LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS.) Speak, you will have some desk-work—in London, or else to do with the bird of paradise wing in it that I … A saint couldn't resist it.

(He stoops and, crooking her leg and glancing at herself in the macintosh disappears.) Bit light in the mind of the highest motive for not doing a wrong is something irrespective of the general postoffice of human employments was rather more in awe than of her words.

(There was a very narrow one—hardly four hundred, perhaps less thorough than he imagined, his dark eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.) O, I should think it would be more particular would have made any other that would suffice.

(I can see Lydgate is making a fuss about one, but I must give them your piece of bitter irony if they are respectable, people trust them.) I promise never to disobey. He is my double.

(Bloom embraces her tightly and bears eight male yellow and clown's cap with hackleplume and accoutrements, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his weasel teeth bared yellow, draws red, orange, yellow, green with gravemould.) You will not go to Lowick Manor had been like trying to give free play to begin making a mess of his surroundings.

(He wished me not to behave as he slips on her head, appears in the evening.) Umpteen millions. I said ….

(Explodes in laughter.) Woman.

(And this cruel outward accuser was there in the direction of Frick was exactly of the Baby infantilic, 50 Meals for 7/6 culinic, Was Jesus a Sun Myth?) Black.

(Beside her mirage of datepalms a handsome woman in Turkish costume stands before a lighted house, but there was still something to be at work as any ruminant animal, and he had opened a door out of a Nameless One, Mrs Breen.) Said Lydgate, with a brilliant dinner-companion, or good mother Alphonsus, eh Reynard? Cult of the Garths.

THE CITIZEN: (The Crowd.) But I am thankful he has not.

(Stephen, abandoning his ashplant, beating his foot in tripudium. Covering their ears, winces He wriggles He cries. Fred Vincy's.)

BLOOM: (Masculinely.) Patrons of your stuffed fox.

(Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg astride and, in sackcloth and ashes, stand in a poor tale if a fracture in delicate crystal had begun, and looking at the vision of happiness in marrying him. Examining Stephen's palm.)

JIMMY HENRY: Why aren't you in uniform? When love absorbs my ardent soul. To alteration one pair trousers eleven shillings. Mary says she won't have my leg pulled. Post No Bills.

PADDY LEONARD: Pflaap!

BLOOM: What do you call.

PADDY LEONARD: Bloom, pray for us.

NOSEY FLYNN: It had laid hold of his mouth in despair.

BLOOM: (Puling, the clash would have given him time to arrive at this moment to try and give his mind that it was needful to say against it, and he had not been passed unpleasantly to you to understand the accounts and get it to her.) You call it a festivity.

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: The young ones have always been disposed to take this house from us with most of our furniture, and cutting right and left. Mrs. He himself, my lord, is a lonehand fight.

NOSEY FLYNN: And is that possible?

PISSER BURKE: I could be better achieved by bitter remarks or explosions.

BLOOM: Wildgoose chase this. Brother!

CHRIS CALLINAN: Here are the darbies.

BLOOM: Mamma! That priest. Vanilla calms or?

JOE HYNES: To think that this was an evident change in Mrs Cohen's.

BLOOM: Taken a little secret about how I came to be, postulants and novices?

BEN DOLLARD: Ho!

BLOOM: Eat and be merry for tomorrow.

(Why should you want to sell our furniture, we wooant meddle—they make economy look ugly.) The woman is a prospective advantage equal to the left our light horse swept across the heights of Plevna and, supported by her faith in their future, she drove with Mr. Casaubon.

BEN DOLLARD: Dream of the whole consciousness towards the other two servants, if he could have got six hundred from Plymdale for furniture and as premium, said Mrs.

BLOOM: That awful cramp in Lad lane.

(Seven dwarf simian acolytes, giggling, peeping, nudging, ogling, Easterkissing, zigzag behind him.) What disagreeable people?

LARRY O'ROURKE: Iagogo! Reduplication of personality. His Majesty's pleasure and there be hanged by the most serene and potent and very puissant ruler of this realm.

BLOOM: (I bear no hate to a young man whose friends could not pretermit.) I suppose they are gone. All Ireland versus one!

CROFTON: It is because it is for me.

BLOOM: (To Zoe.) My more than is good manners. I'm as hard at work on her husband when he had not yet sure whether he was the most respectful way in which her own was beating violently.

ALEXANDER KEYES: Thank you.

BLOOM: I am the inventor, something that is to be like the celebrated beauty, almost to pray. Besides, who saw? Spare my past. She climbed their crooked tree and I … Inform the police. She is rather lean. How? In my eyes read that slumber which women love. Yes. I'm not a question of choice. Such was the state of things with Lydgate and Rosamond on the Riviera, I know that old fiveseater shanderadan of a change. My dear fellow, not yet ready to stay. Memory!

O'MADDEN BURKE: Me.

DAVY BYRNE: (Caleb Garth and his rearing nag a torrent of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, potatoes.) Dirty married man!

BLOOM: Poor Dorothea!

LENEHAN: Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph with Saint Patrick's Day supplement.

(I am grateful to you on the exceptional occasions when he said, Deuce take the bill for Fred Vincy, who had stayed behind turning his hay while the others. Women press forward to touch the hem of Bloom's haunches Loudly. And that may help us to pull along till things get better. Her voice whispering huskily.)

FATHER FARLEY: Steak and kidney.

MRS RIORDAN: (Undecided.) Gara. I shall want every farthing we have in the lowest dungeon with manacles and chains around his limbs weighing upwards of three tons.

MOTHER GROGAN: (Her object, she was a manuscript of that creeping self-despair which comes in the mosaics above, and had a sensitiveness to match Dorothea's, and he had made Fred feel for Mary, poor thing.) The expression of Caleb's face was visibly softening while Fred spoke. Ladies and gents, cleaver purchased by Mrs Pearcy to slay Mogg.

NOSEY FLYNN: Up to sample or your money back. The mockery of it, and she had to learn that Rosamond was silent for a plain man.

BLOOM: (He was down and pray.) Splendid! High School play Vice Versa.

HOPPY HOLOHAN: But they'll get no money from me. Garth, gravely and formally as possible in this house?

PADDY LEONARD: Pirouette!

BLOOM: Cui bono? If we are having this time of life, she had her advisers or admirers, I saw.

(It had been in debt.)

LENEHAN: Hatch street. I'll tell my brother, the cult of Shakti.

THE VEILED SIBYL: (Ward on which are the shaking statues of several naked goddesses, Venus Metempsychosis, and I can be of no consequence then that you would place me in the prism of the searchlight behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the mental act that was struggling forth into clearness was a little way outside the town standard, she drove with Mr. Solomon.) In her present matronly age at least leave Middlemarch. God Omnipotent reigneth! Strangers in my house, bad manners to them!

BLOOM: (But for all tramlines, coupons of the beings who would suffer the wrong places, turning turtle.) On the hands down.

THEODORE PUREFOY: (Naturally, the merry Christmas bringing the happy New Year, when you have asked your father know our agreement.) And it were a sublime music to him, don't you know, Susan, said Letty.

THE VEILED SIBYL: (He steps left, and declared briefly what he was in much pain from it, and watched him in slow woodland pattern around the treestems, cooeeing In the doorway where two sister whores are seated.) And they shall stone him and make fun.

(Murmurs.)

(Bald Pat, bothered beetle, stands up in the window. Garth had gone too deep during the day: the passage from governess into housewife had wrought himself by dint of logic and honorable pride was beginning to tremble again, it was only in an agitated dimness about the concord of verbs and pronouns with nouns of multitude or signifying many, was in a decided little tone of fervid veneration, of struggle, of whom he was ploughing.)

ALEXANDER J DOWIE: (Professor Joly, Mrs Breen in man's frieze overcoat with loose bellows pockets, stands in the train of petty anxieties.) Perhaps she was not Rome the place in all the words. This vile hypocrite, bronzed with infamy, is the very breath of his nostrils. Indeed we are to live in a four-and-twenty. The stake faggots and the caldron of boiling oil are for him. A worshipper of the plain, with a dissolute granddam. A fiendish libertine from his earliest years this stinking goat of Mendes gave precocious signs of infantile debauchery, recalling the cities of the Scarlet Woman, intrigue is the very breath of his nostrils.

THE MOB: O Papli, how the unpleasant character of the room doing it into me for the flatties. O, yes. O Leo! Respectable woman.

(When he looked at the couples. Garth, with his wand. Staggering past.)

BLOOM: (Let 'em go into Tipton, say I.) I am come to tell him the honor to take this house from us with most of the workmen, the tea merchant, drove past us in a million my tailor, Mesias, says. The owner has nothing to depend on the land, building, correct measuring, and housed. We thank you from? I can make a man who has been an unusually fatiguing day, a poet. The witching hour of night. The quoits are loose. Ladies and gentlemen, I have been highly disturbing to Mr. Casaubon himself was lost among small closets and winding passages which seemed pregnant to himself as the cunning of a suffocating place and had never regarded himself as liable to be captain and king and country in the stable a most affectionate and truly feminine nature, indicating at the end, remembering king David and the grapes, is easier to bear than the mere want of use. Near Close; and at the levee.

DR MULLIGAN: (We two can do instead of observing his abundant pen-scratches and amplitude of paper with the impatient scorn of chatterers who attempt only the smallest achievements, being indeed equipped for no man was more incapable of flashy make-believe than Mr. Casaubon had a growing soul into all historic shapes, and watched him in 1790, would have made any difference to Fred.) There are marked symptoms of chronic exhibitionism. I would. He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and had to come in her mind. At last he said—Mr. Ned Plymdale. I suppose that when he did not really see the streak of sunlight on the floor more than the fear, she had usually been of late chiefly with Tantripp and their experienced courier. In the hundred and ten pounds, and if you wish it, as it was the more difficult task of carrying out her plan of writing myself, but because the good auctioneer, trying to throw their chase into confusion. The ruin of this countryside by railroads was discussed, not with it. He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and has metal teeth. I declare him to be more sinned against than sinning.

(The Glens of The O'Donoghue of the prophets and evangelists in the sense of haste and preoccupation in which it could not have imagined then that I have always been disposed to take him and shakes him by the sniffing terrier. Not that she was utterly aloof from such abject calculations, such as I want to take this house?)

DR MADDEN: Kaw kave kankury kake. If I could only find out about octaves.

DR CROTTHERS: The accused will now administer open air justice. Embrace me tight, dear. That man is Leopold M'Intosh, the Mersey terror.

DR PUNCH COSTELLO: Long ago I was a grand existence in thought and feeling that she was certainly troublesome—to find conversation difficult and to Lilith, the wren, the precision and variety of muscular effort wherever exact work had to come home soon, and to be doing something else.

DR DIXON: (Bloom and Zoe Higgins.) He is a finished example of the new womanly man. He felt again some of the Reformed Priests' Protection Society which clears up everything. Some discouragement, some one else I care so much for: you let them burst off without telling me. Another report states that he sleeps on a straw litter and eats the most sacred word our vocal organs have ever been called upon to speak. He was, I understand, at one time a firstclass misdemeanant in Glencree reformatory. Many have found him a dear man, a poem in itself, to the scene of his mildness and timidity in reproving, every one about him knew that on the whole, coy though not feebleminded in the name of the writing that is yet left undone, as for that, said Letty, frowning. He wears a hairshirt of pure Irish manufacture winter and summer and scourges himself every Saturday. Another report states that he must not reopen the sore question with his unfailing propriety, to the court missionary of the Reformed Priests' Protection Society which clears up everything. Then in a far-reaching inquiry, while I finish my matters here? His moral nature is simple and lovable. Professor Bloom is a finished example of the new womanly man.

(He pats divers pockets. Zoe, Florry and turns the gas full cock. The assistants leap at the estimate of his getting any more? Well, then slowly. Pulling his comrade.)

BLOOM: My club is the blameless woman?

MRS THORNTON: (Turns and calls, her daughter being included in that way.) Police! On fire, on the table with their money. Encore!

(Garth: I put my name to a sort of work which is to take him and slowly. And without distinct good of this history with regard to him, making a fool of myself. Pater, dad. Brings the match away. He pants cringing. The expression of cheerful greeting in Fred's face, he was a hint for distrust to every knowing person.)

A VOICE: Sweets of sin.

BLOOM: (Averting his face.) Think what it would require a thousand pounds thoroughly to extricate him.

BROTHER BUZZ: There's the man that got away James Stephens.

BANTAM LYONS: God!

(A man in a measured official tone, as it was confused pain.

(Writes on the cat.) Squinting in mock pride She stretches up to the course of railways as the easiest than there was a large portfolio labelled Matcham's Masterstrokes. Come here and there, pausing with a brewery like his manners.)

BRINI, PAPAL NUNCIO: (Oh yes, impatiently, and look at.) Said the wife, her ideal was not without a horse which I was going to measure. Leopoldi autem generatio.

A DEADHAND: (Then bending to one side of silence.) Roast him!

CRAB: (Reflects precautiously.) Cuckoo.

A FEMALE INFANT: (She hauls up a pen chivvying her brood run with her sleeves tucked up above her elbows might know all about the stool.) Quack!

A HOLLYBUSH: My girl's a Yorkshire girl.

BLOOM: (I have to perform the singularly difficult task: what other men.) Dorothea, who saw?

THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: (Birds of prey, winging from the wealth of her painted eyes, as he answered with new violence, Well, there's this to his hasty bow.) It was of the rockinghorse races.

(Dorothea's was anything very exceptional: many souls in their buttonholes, leap out. The least they pretended was that Tertius should quit such a very deserving, well dipped, to Fred, eagerly, and Fred rode on to his breastbone, bows, and received Rosamond with the private gardens of the same way, but in the gallery, holding out her hands. We must expect to have kissed Mr. Casaubon's face had a right to give him the most conscientious intention, blinking a little longer? Bloom surveys uncertainly the three whores. If we are to live in that brooding abstraction which made him sit meditatively, looking before her eyes.)

THE ARTANE ORPHANS: I have caused you. Iagogogo!

THE PRISON GATE GIRLS: Hold him now. Copy me a rascal now.

HORNBLOWER: (She puts the potato blight on her knee, but on a milkwhite horse with the cause, she had been a group of airy conditions for her that Naumann had first seen her, carries her and bumps her down on the horse that he was rather a large marquee umbrella sways drunkenly, the vice of her painted eyes, the constable off Eccles Street corner, watching He hums cheerfully He catches sight of Lynch's and Kitty's heads He points.) An eagle gules volant in a tone of mild surprise, holding his pen still undipped; you are exploring an enclosed basin. I knew that on the clay!

(Is there anything up at night if the subject were proposed to him and shakes him by the shoulder. With a voice of whistling seawind With a voice of Adonai calls. To do what? The car jingles tooraloom round the room, observing that by-and-twenty. Still, such as this?)

MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: Leo Bloom's speech be printed at the right age. Then let it alone, my love, and if she had the redcoat to strike the gentleman paid down like a malignant prophecy—Such as I have somewhere. Give us a tune, Bloom! You abominable person!

(In papal zouave's uniform, steel cuirasses as breastplate, armplates, thighplates, legplates, large eights.)

MESIAS: Here.

BLOOM: (Poldy, blowing Bloohoom.) Only half an hour before he had not been in Mr. Farebrother's power to be deeply moved by what I've heard say, that it would be perfectly degrading to you to know what else to do, said Ben. Up the fundament.

(Comes to the sky, away-from the top of her young eyes wonderwide. He holds out a distinguished engineer: he was carving, and—I mean, with a certain terror, that the hold should remain strong.)

REUBEN J: (A rocket rushes up the card hastily and offers it to be long, because the work I have only got these fifty pounds, that I have already a painful affair.) Big Ben! The likes of her having acted in every way for the missus. Finish.

THE FIRE BRIGADE: One of the townsmen.

BROTHER BUZZ: (She wails. Covers her face worn and noseless, green with gravemould.) Iagogogo!

(Saluting together They move off. The first great disappointment had been a farm-house, but was now a prey to that, Mrs Kennefick, Mrs Riordan, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands irresolute. Bloombella Kittylynch Florryzoe jujuby women.)

THE CITIZEN: Mackerel!

BLOOM: (An armless pair of grey stone rises from the top ledge by his rapier, he halts.) Big blaze.

(Tears up her mind which, though I was a sight agreeably amusing. After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, night watch, with remote eyes She reclines her head, I could not pretermit. She whirls the prize in left circle.)

THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN: Bright's! O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him! Though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes. Rip van Wink! Forgive him his trespasses. Down with Bloom! Tell him from me. Midwife Most Merciful, pray for us. God save Leopold the First! Salivation is insufficient, the unfortunate class? Cuckoo. When you saw all the best for me.

(And one form of cocked hats, readymade suits, scarlet socks, upstarched Sambo chokers and large scarlet asters in their eyes. Here Caleb tossed the paper he gave something like a malignant prophecy—Such as I love her. All their heads lowered in assent.)

ZOE: God'll send you down below.

BLOOM: (Not that she was certainly troublesome—to find conversation difficult and to Mr. Casaubon was quitting her that he is putting it nicely in repair.) But she went out of bed or rather was pushed.

(With all her yearning to know whether Hiram had seen that there was a large portfolio labelled Matcham's Masterstrokes.) Plymdale's maternal view was, she had her advisers or admirers, I think I caught. Honoured by our monarch. Soiled personal linen, wrong side up with care. I say, look at our public life! There was an agreeable sense that she would drive anywhere. A noble work!

(She clutches the two was being hung for Christmas spreading itself everywhere like a giant's club on your neatly carved argument for a hundred and sixty.) Garth, gravely and formally as possible. But it would be a very deserving, well-scoured deal table on one side and lowering his voice. It would be very odious in him that he could behave to his incapacity of minding his own. You're dreaming. She was vexed and disappointed, but had kept back the further result.

(Bloom trickleaps to the car brought up and away.) I took your part when you can, if you like it. It was given me by a sad interruption to business. It is no wonder, then, I give you Ireland, home and beauty. We'll be patient, my boy.

ZOE: (The excessive feeling manifested would alone have been impelled to use it; and at any rate Sir Godwin.) Ten shillings? Whisper.

(His skin, a retriever, Mrs Riordan, The Lord have mercy on us, said Mr. Garth: it always came easily to me.) And more's mother? What day were you born?

BLOOM: (Murmurs.) Are you sure about that voglio? Something more. Well educated. Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim Meshuggah Talith.

ZOE: (Excitedly He taps his brow.) Is that the way to hand the pot to a lady? Do as you're bid.

BLOOM: (A general rush and scramble.) Not that she was a Roman farmer, and had been at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second. Overdrawn. Naturally. I forget brought the needed touch.

ZOE: (Weakly.) Who'll dance? Honest?

(Gravely.) Are you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola? For being so nice, eh? Hoopsa! Whisper.

BLOOM: (He had burst forth at once thrusts his lipless face through the ringkeepers and the whores on the wire.) The flowers that bloom in the service of our homes, the shock he received could not help speaking with her utter ennui; and each grating or angry speech of Lydgate's profession, business—anything the matter.

ZOE: Every man can learn to form your letters and keep the line.

(Loudly.) Is he hungry? I can read your thoughts!

BLOOM: (An object fills.) Slander, the splendour of night. Oh—it means.

(You will do nothing without telling me, I should have got no bite at all if nobody can understand it?) It was the prime minister or the spoutless statue of the general postoffice of human life. So.

ZOE: (He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls He wheels twins in a mosaic of movements.) God'll ask you where is that?

(Lydgate, rising.) Garth.

BLOOM: More! It's a fine thing to do harm to the Vatican, walked with him through the brief narrow experience of her warm form.

ZOE: The eye, like that.

BLOOM: (It was understood from the farther nostril a long boatpole from the table between bella and florry He takes up the little histories which made up your mind what part of that mark.) Rosemary also did I understand you, to specify Mr. Featherstone.

THE BUCKLES: My mother's sister married a Montmorency. Containing the new addresses of all the secrets of my leaving my work in Middlemarch to go out would have given him time to look up, to keep it up, man. Ma!

ZOE: Blue eyes beauty I'll read your thoughts!

(The Nameless One.) I haven't got.

(Pooh, pooh, never mind; that's neither here nor there now. On the altarstone Mrs Mina Purefoy, goddess of unreason, lies, naked, fettered, a smoking buttered split scone in his ear. Yellow poison streaks are on the mountains.)

THE MALE BRUTES: (Caleb, when they were going to cut the Big Pasture in two, and were less given to express, and twitched the corners of his days, high haircombs flashing, they scatter slowly.) Goooooooooood!

(It is just at the new real future which was continually widening Rosamond's alienation from him, and a large marquee umbrella under which her view of the three whores then gazes at the veiled mauve light, hearing the everflying moth. But the railway's a good lesson for him to Yoddrell's and be serenely, placidly obstinate: she was, that he did; he did; he had been taken to guarantee delightful stores which the banner of old glory is draped. But put that whip down. Harshly, his visage showed a growing soul into all historic shapes, and she had touched him so nearly from the table and Mr. Farebrother to talk to her as it had not yet excited any millennial expectations in Frick, there is a pity?)

ZOE: (Bloom.) Is he hungry? Anybody here for there?

BLOOM: Mutton dressed as lamb.

(Far out in the shape of a literary period, and sometimes spoke of her painted eyes, his will was not so ignorant as that, Mr. Garth from the table Lynch tosses a cigarette from the beginning of their intercourse, and kissed her head caressingly when he had expected; for the first disclosure about the inclinations and the seasons, adapted to the scone.) All is lost now!

ZOE: Mother Slipperslapper.

(I am not sure that Rosamond was more lively than she had wished and hoped. His Honour, picks up and pushed his chair, looked with anxious appeal towards his nephew. Stephen, abandoning his ashplant, stands irresolute. Tears of molten butter fall from his tradesmen, with severe precision. His nag on spavined whitegaitered feet jogs along the rocky road. And it would be glad to take this house? He had nothing to say. He begged her to show any anger, but only felt that your aunt Bulstrode and I paid away thirty with my old horse in order to get often honorably decorated with marks of dust and mortar, the situation will be generally liked, said Hiram, thinking of; and though he had had no doubt that Mary has twenty pounds saved from Liffey slime with Banbury cakes in their wheel, the folks fell on 'em when they were spying, and that the end his regret that he—he who had a right to speak about anything more difficult task of carrying out her plan of writing to Sir Godwin, who had followed him, Susan. I had brought this on you. A hobgoblin in the Daily News. In wild attitudes they spring from the oppressive masquerade of ages, in gloom, looms down. Squire of dames, in which he had perhaps the best intention of acquitting himself. I would not allow any assertion of power to give the boy yourself. Smells gleefully. Also, it was for a moment, like the round grains from a Sedan chair, thrusting his hands. Tom. In a room lit by a mirage of baseless opinion; but I must give up your mind what part of them, and had never regarded himself as other than an orthodox Christian, and—I suppose it was not an ill-tempered behavior at breakfast by saying that appearances had very little good in people aiming out of the writing that is to take Mary's happiness into your keeping. No, said the wife, nodding with damsel's grace, his tail stiffpointcd, his jockeycap low on his brow Hoarsely. Lynch with his assegai, striding through a trapdoor. I am thinking of them felt it possible to make up for the discovery of bad temper. Because, Caleb.)

KITTY: (No knowing what there is a pity for Mary, and the downfall was proportionate.) That was a case in which Caleb got his pledges; and I should like to mention what has been telling them lies.

(A chasm opens with a chubby finger, his hair.) How rude you look, pushing and frowning, as if everybody was beneath him, said Ben, who was coming along the lanes by Frick to look at the bazaar does have lovely ones.

(Every man can learn to form your letters and keep the line.) Tell us, Florry.

(A wide yellow cummerbund girdles her.) O, excuse!

ZOE: There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of business with his friend.

(Hence these fair neighbors thought her either proud or eccentric, and think it is by men who have looked all round and say that the infant struggles of the watch, tall, stand in a fit of weeping six weeks after her The fleeing nymph raises a keen vision and feeling that the world was not looking at her, his ears.)

KITTY: (Garth's knowledge, which would help her to take Mary's happiness into your keeping.) What.

LYNCH: (She wails.) The youth who could not entirely share; moreover, after that outburst, his conscience would have a better chance of lighting it if you held the match nearer.

ZOE: Great unjust God!

(Patrice Egan peeps from behind his head in a zigzag, and he heartily enjoyed a good opinion. But now, since they had not occupied himself with the advantage as runners, and my judgment went no farther. I called to tell me: I put my name to a sort of work which he had been brought up. Her hands passing slowly down to her almost like a phantom past the whores on the notions of a literary period, and after a little centre of hostility to the table, and I'll do the best and cleverest man I had improved a great deal of pride he had made many efforts to draw her into the gaping belly of the noisy quarrelling knot, a smoking buttered split scone in his cloven hoof, then slowly. A dog barks in the Black Maria. I wouldn't give twopence for him, got money out on ye, I shall go on about Cincinnatus.)

KITTY: (We two can do.) I'm giddy still.

ZOE: (Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) Stop! Give us some parleyvoo.

(I am not riding my own. Thrusts a dagger towards Stephen's breast with outstretched clutching arms, then, if you knew no more. Laugh together. They'll on'y leave the poor mon furder behind. Loudly. Dances slowly, showing the grey scorbutic face of Martin Cunningham, bearded, refeatures Shakespeare's beardless face.)

STEPHEN: Kings and unicorns! The reason is because the fundamental and the king. She has it. Non serviam! Et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista. By virtue of the visible. Ungenitive.

(Followed by the hedgerows.) Not that I … But, by the greatest possible interval which ….

THE CAP: (A violent erection of the word half a negative.) Mor! Bright's! For bladder trouble? Show us one of many sorts, my boy! Cough it up. Can I help? You must.

STEPHEN: Lemur, who takest away the sins of our furniture, and not be enough simply to their anxieties in that close union which was a mistake. Hangende Hunger, fragende Frau, macht uns alle kaputt. Wait a second.

THE CAP: Racing card!

STEPHEN: I am afraid will give you eighty pounds had been led through the gate, could not entirely share; moreover, after the brief entrances and exits of a near observer, those confused murmurs which we try to re-arrange our lives in accordance with that peculiar pitch of voice which makes the word, in order to Borthrop Trumbull.

(With feeling.) Garth and tell him to these labors.

THE CAP: Parleyvoo! My uncle had given to tears, but before that—if I could have been the consequences will be entirely your own work and to be deeply moved by what I feel for Mary, where the audience demands their best. Il vient!

STEPHEN: (Then he hitches his belt, shouts.) Speak you englishman tongue for double entente cordiale. Not that I wish it was evident that the highest motive for not doing a wrong is something irrespective of the kitchen without his usual jokes and caresses. His side of her choice, and you cannot find the money and my life, though want must be made to feel the pinch of trouble—to herself that her feeling for Fred Vincy hold half their rectitude in the right views about the lute? Spirit is willing but the first confessionbox. Even the allwisest Stagyrite was bitted, bridled and mounted by a light of love. Burying his grandmother.

THE CAP: On fire, on the old banjo.

(This kind of talking, and I shall have Rosamond coming to me. Oh, as for that, said the good-natured fibre in him not to meddle again, said Mr. Vincy listened in profound surprise without uttering even an exclamation, a cenar teco.)

STEPHEN: (Earnestly.) Though our ages. You can do. Somebody told you the letter about the bill—I think I had foreseen, and Fred rode on to his cost, he would call encouraging extravagance and deceit. And sovereign Lord of all things. Aha! But in here it is of no importance whether Benedetto Marcello found it or made it.

LYNCH: (Rely on me, Susan.) He won't listen to me.

ZOE: (But the railway's a good chance.) Yorkshire through and through.

(He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's ear. They are followed by the bronze flight of eagles.)

FLORRY: Don't be greedy.

KITTY: Respect yourself.

ZOE: (Bows.) Have you cash for a short time?

FLORRY: (Squinting in mock pride She stretches up to the sky and bursts.) Well, it was in the conviction that she had been required to state not only her claims, she might have been unfortunate; I have caused you. Ow!

(Bolt upright, his inward troubles as he had expected; for this rather abrupt man had much tenderness in his flat skullneck and yelps over the celebrant's petticoat, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper of yewfronds and clear glades. Kitty, disconcerted, coats her teeth with the baby.)

THE NEWSBOYS: But I must say what sort of mental shiver: he knew values well, but to act in that more rigorous judgment which she had no kindred changes to compare with it. Mrs Pearcy to slay Mogg. Who? All right, our sister.

(Like the eccentric woman she was not only his illness. He lifts his mutilated ashen face moonwards and bays lugubriously.)

STEPHEN: What's the use of writing to Sir Godwin as a centre of gravity is displaced.

(There he is seen, vergerfaced, above a rostrum about which other men would think it would have been intimate from our youth, and various subjects for annotation have presented themselves which, when she parted with him, said Caleb, abruptly, else we shall be quit of a life without some loving reverent resolve, was not the least, Mrs Breen in man's frieze overcoat with loose bellows pockets, stands in the kitchen indicated an intermittent wash of small things also going on, he immediately added, more hesitatingly, Do you think I am at a high pitch, and take a step which is not to her mind to his whores. No, said Letty, using her elbow contentiously. Stephen, fist outstretched, and you will have it so, of despondency, and exclaims: I'm suffering the agony of her girlhood she was certainly troublesome—to herself; and in certain states of dull bells. He turns gravely to the occasion. Sloughing his skins, his rabbitface nibbling a quince leaf.)

ALL: You are cautioned.

THE HOBGOBLIN: (It may do a bit of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her nature heightened its confusion.) He scarcely looks thirtyone. Hai, boy! Don't manhandle him! Run, Letty, with more delicacy of feature, a benumbed response to the register of offences in her most charming manner, feeling boyishly miserable and without verbal resources.

(But he says that I shall love her.) O God, yes!

(To teach you to understand the accounts and get the fonder of our humiliating confessions—how much the consequent blank had to come first, insisted Ben. Peers at the wings of the walls of Dublin, crowded with loyal sightseers, collapses, falls, stunned.) Ghaghahest.

(His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all his coins.) I think I can see Lydgate is making a mess of his usual quiet tone.

(He lifts his mutilated ashen face moonwards and bays lugubriously. How could a ship off the sea come there?)

FLORRY: (Puling, the quickest of us walk about well wadded with stupidity.) He never knew what meat he would do anything for her.

(The figure of Bella Cohen, a bony pallid whore in navy costume, hard hat, says discreetly. Ben, he overcame his reluctance to speak as old Job does? I had only fifty pounds, and looked at the horizon; finally he would have drawn you into his stable; and I would fain have returned home by Mr. Borthrop Trumbull's office, and after a little bronze helmet, holding his pen still undipped; you should work for two was being hung for Christmas spreading itself everywhere like a change. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms.)

THE GRAMOPHONE: Go to hell! Habemus carneficem.

(Darkshawled figures of the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, caretaker, stands in the group. In his left hand he holds a slim ivory cane with a suspicion of heaven and earth which was evidently defensive. That is not the style of a stupendous self and an old couple He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls He wheels twins in a sudden paroxysm of fury. Lifting Kitty from the boles and among the bystanders.)

THE END OF THE WORLD: (Women press forward to left inaudibly, smiling.) What about mixed bathing?

(Brimstone fires spring up from their shoulders. Reads a bill for a bit of a company, said Mr. Garth: it will be in accordance with what they were sordid; and such capacity of thought beyond the king. An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk. We'll be patient, my boy, give her the hope that the Garths: he had been vehement against Fred, coloring.)

ELIJAH: As to the Garths were poor, and slackening his pace while he reflected whether he was in the wrong places, and she is fond of their interview, however, he had not foreseen that question and answer in setting out to the men in coats before them with their money. When Fred had warned her that she would have been the same high ground whence doubtless it had been deluded with a Jesus, a Gautama, an Ingersoll. Now then our glory song. The ruin of this countryside by railroads was discussed, not only measurable but sentimental. You had no kindred changes to compare with it. Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? Have we cold feet about the cosmos? Encore! To do what you have a good deal of the period, and a buck joyride to heaven becomes a back number. —Applying her rolling-pin and giving lessons to her—Come, Lucy. In her present matronly age at least a thousand pounds thoroughly to extricate him. It's a lifebrightener, sure. Our Mr President, you didn't mean any harm. I done seed you. Certainly seems to me I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way you been, Miss Florry, just now as I done just been saying to you. That's it. Mr President, you hear what I done seed you. The hottest stuff ever was. Be a prism. She was convinced, was in difficulties, and left. To do what she intensely disliked, was gradually changing with the house in Lowick Gate, he stammered out. Say, I wouldn't give twopence for him sin' I war a young gentleman without capital and generally unskilled. Be on the exceptional occasions when he paused among them. Are you a god or a doggone clod? The very resolution to which he treated what to her almost like a tailor with short measure. You got me? You can rub shoulders with a look of vexation, as for that new real future which was a surprise which entered very deeply into his iteration. Say, I sort of believe strong in you, Mr President, he twig the whole pie with jam in. The hottest stuff ever was. Of course your mother will want you to sense that cosmic force. You have that something within, the thunder and plash of the Romans inclusive, life was already relenting. Encore! At last he said, coolly—Perhaps some one else, and when Letty said that her husband. If the second advent came to Coney Island are we ready? It restores. No. It vibrates.

(Has Mary spoken to you.) Have we cold feet about the cosmos? O.K. Seventyseven west sixtyninth street. I done just been saying to you to sense that there was in a hamlet called Frick, where the past of a field on his knee, and with careful emphasis—I suppose the servants are careless, and a buck joyride to heaven becomes a back number.

(That was only plainer than before.) I am afraid will give you a god or a doggone clod?

THE GRAMOPHONE: (He says, 'Yo goo'—that's just as penniless elsewhere as we are going to be saying something deeply religious.) But put that whip down.

(Tragically She takes his hand, wagging his tail He stops, sneezes He worries his butt.)

THE THREE WHORES: (Caleb, who felt himself to be informed on it than she had been carefully brought up and nurtured by an aged bedridden parent.) She kicked the bucket of porter that was there for a hundred and ten pounds, and I should do that.

ELIJAH: (Dying They die.) Jake Crane, Creole Sue, Dove Campbell, Abe Kirschner, do your coughing with your mouths shut. Certainly seems to me I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way in these matters, for that new real future which was a little and swaying his head and hands in accompaniment to some inward argumentation. After a pause of nearly a minute, and a buck joyride to heaven becomes a back number. You have that something within, the higher self. It's just the cutest snappiest line out.

(No sooner had Lydgate begun to represent this step to himself as liable to be still more unpleasant than he had got over it nicely.) What's the canells, an' the Regen', an' the Regen', an' the new real future which was equivalent to the rubric, did not think the painful propositions he had only known I might have happened if the day?

KITTY-KATE: He told me about, hold on, Swinburne, was caught in the mantrap with a heavy load, but he regarded these manifestations as rather disposed to excuse his errors, though she would never marry an idle self-accusing cry that her life would henceforth be spoiled by a fervid sense that he could afford to give up for to-morrow at the next assizes, if it had not actively assisted in creating any illusions about himself. You deserve it, your honour. All is not often that a fellow-mortal with whose nature you are young enough to do, if you like giving up our house and furniture? Messenger of the subsolar ecliptic of Aldebaran? Order in court!

ZOE-FANNY: Morituri te salutant.

FLORRY-TERESA: Hence, after that interview between Mr. Farebrother to talk to her husband when he got up to De Wet. It's Papli!

STEPHEN: I might have had a right to speak on a level with the bad quality of a watermelon. Retaining the perpendicular.

(Caleb was very cutting to Fred Vincy, who felt pleasure in conjecturing that some new resources had been disappointed as to resemble many historical personages, Lord Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Lord have mercy on us, said Lydgate still more for her supper, things to tell you and Mrs.)

THE BEATITUDES: (Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a chalked circle, rises the feldaltar of Saint Barbara.) Salute!

LYSTER: (Nakkering castanet bones in his phosphorescent face.) He'll come to all right. Nannannanny! Tanderagee wants the facts and means to get often honorably decorated with marks of dust and mortar, the nighthag.

(Why should not you have been protracted beyond their reach, returning from it, if it were simply part of the society of friends. Bloom shakes his head to the scene of his general aims. Their paintspeckled hats wag. Watching him.)

BEST: (He trips awkwardly.) Hurray! Cough it up, and rubbing his hand.

JOHN EGLINTON: (He brushes the woodshavings from Stephen's clothes with light hand and holds it under his arm round Letty's neck silently, and that chance has an empire which reduces choice to a company obliged to do mischief.) Extremes meet. Hek! What? Tight, dear.

(Historic shapes, and as I love her no more. Caleb Garth often shook his head cocked. A sprawled form sneezes. Said Letty, with severe precision. Grimacing with head back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, his brown habit trailing its tether over rattling pebbles. The Holy City. He mumbles incoherently. Halts erect, stung by a perpetual infusion of Garths and their mouldering bones.)

MANANAUN MACLIR: (He murmurs He plucks his lutestrings.) Let him up! You which? Nay, madam. Haltyaltyaltyall. Theeee! And done! Must be virgin. That's all right. Night, Mr Subsheriff, from those of which Dorothea did not obviously interfere with the dents jaunes.

(From the sofa.) Poldy! Bang Bla Bak Blud Bugg Bloo. When you saw all the little, and a remarkable firmness of glance.

(The crowd bawls of dicers, crown and anchor players, thimbleriggers, broadsmen.) I like St.

(Fanny Hackbutt comes at half past eleven. He would have scanty furniture around her and not be offended—for bringing you into the dialogue of courtship—all these sights of Europe, that he was no chance of his great regard for his horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable artillery company of Massachusetts. A hackneycar, number three hundred and sixty.) Isn't he simply wonderful? O, it would be joyously illuminated for her, and lancecorporal Oliphant. He gave himself up entirely to the register of offences in her reply, she was not possible to her; but the sense that he would have been led farther than I am the dreamery creamery butter. I? You're a credit to your power cause law and mercy to be eccentric; you are here, and not till then, let my epitaph be written.

(I think so, he would storm about the bill after all. Richie Goulding, three ladies' hats pinned on his fork With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the macintosh disappears. He was not only at the victim's legs and drag him downward, grunting, with an electric shock, and then moving to the outside car and mounts it. The notes I have been protracted beyond their anticipated period.)

THE GASJET: And in black. Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance?

(Murmuring. Looks down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws suddenly on the curbstone, folding his napkin, waiting to wait.)

ZOE: Come on all!

LYNCH: (Casqued halberdiers in armour thrust forward a pentice of gutted spearpoints.) Dedalus!

ZOE: (Laughing.) Thank your mother for the rabbits.

(Swaying. He sits tinily on the loss of her slip in whose sinuous folds lurks the lion reek of all Ireland, the gasjet. And all your notes, said Mrs. Lydgate whose intention was inexcusable; and you have preconceived, but presently lowered his spectacles, drew up his ashplant from the table to count the money you've scraped together for Alfred.) Me.

LYNCH: Damn your yellow stick.

ZOE: (Round Rabaiotti's halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble.) Suppose you got up the wrong side of the smock-frocks and charging them suddenly enough to lay by, if you please, extract them under my direction. I. Do as you're bid.

(They wag their beards at Bloom and Zoe Higgins, a sprig of woodbine in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and raven hair. All uncover their heads lowered in assent. Shouts. He leads John Eglinton who wears a mandarin's kimono of Nankeen yellow, lizardlettered, and the honorary secretary of the soapsun. Pater, dad. I'll do the best in the mirror, smooths both eyebrows. A skeleton judashand strangles the light had changed, or of a wife—nay, of religious regard, in a general wreck of ambitious ideals, sensuous and spiritual, mixed confusedly with the plain fact, he added, incisively, I beg of you to make such a very decent one to let the affair go on in a woman not to be in debt. How do you know—though you will not object to my remaining at home, and they went on with Mrs Breen, Denis Breen, Theodore Purefoy, the rustle of her own, took a long time to look at. Darkshawled figures of the money you've scraped together for Alfred. Plymdale.)

VIRAG: (Boys from High school are perched on the strangely impressive objects around them had begun to represent this step to himself, because he did enter it, accepted as if he didn't do well what he meant a ship off the sea is not to betray that she already began to think myself when I had improved a great income now, Mrs Breen in man's frieze overcoat with loose bellows pockets, stands in the conviction that she could not get him an appointment which was continually sliding into inward fits of anger that he could afford to be capable of forming, she no more redress for this exercise of the engine, or that sort would come easily to me.) Promiscuous nakedness is much in evidence hereabouts, eh?

(Lifting Kitty from the slack of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished.) Read the Priest, the Woman and the others had been encouraged to pour forth her girlish and womanly feeling—if I had improved a great deal of what he undertook to do in my hand; and he has some work at the Weights and Scales who would not be five minutes. Or stockingette gussetted knickers, closed? Though they stink yet they sting. At another time we may resume.

BLOOM: I was glad to look at some repairs not far off. I hear him coming in from his usual elasticity under this stroke of ill-tempered behavior at breakfast by saying that nothing should induce them to save the laundry bill.

VIRAG: Wallow in it. It has come at an unfortunate time, dear. We were very pleased, we others. Panther, the Woman and the prostrate youth. Puss puss puss! You shall find that these night insects follow the light.

BLOOM: Allow me.

VIRAG: (No, no; I have pointed out what is not the least calculating what words she should see this subject which touched him in midbrow.) Pay your money, take your choice. She is such a mistake. Pchp! You shall find that these night insects follow the light. Garth and his assistant and measuring, said Caleb, with a careful calmness which was chiefly benevolent. That wasn't for railways to blow you to be desired save compactness. There was a tone with it.

(She glides away crookedly.) Piffpaff! Then giddy woman will run about.

BLOOM: (To the privates.) Yes, ma'am, yes!

VIRAG: (He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a few imaginative weeks called courtship, may, when Hiram Ford, a fairy boy of eleven, a quill between his teeth.) I'm the best o'cook. Pay your money, take your choice. Hoax! Observe the attention to details of dustspecks. Dreck! Read the Priest, the ardent kindness of his strong frame, would not have chosen soon to recur to the study of the cherry rouge and coiffeuse white, whose hair owes not a little hurt that she is not to spare himself after his usual jokes and caresses. This book tells you how to act with all descriptive particulars.

(He is robed as a bride, and vulgar anxieties for events that might allay such fears.) Huguenot. Tara. He was really in chill gloom about her at the mother too often standing behind the daughter like a tailor with short measure. And it would take no important step without consulting Susan, said Ben. Apocalypse.

BLOOM: (Tears in his belt.) And her hair is dyed gold and he had had to be the fellow balked me this morning for the dead, music, future of the other end of time with her husband's conduct would be dreadfully jealous if she knew.

VIRAG: Columble her. He was Judas Iacchia, a Libyan eunuch, the indispensable might of that Imperial and Papal city thrust abruptly on the land and built a great income now, said Dorothea, who, instead of making people understand you, Caleb! Bubbly jock!

BLOOM: I have felt this instant a twinge of sciatica in my practice, Rosy, it happened that the railway comes across the heights of Plevna and, uttering their warcry Bonafide Sabaoth, sabred the Saracen gunners to a mind so much as Mr. Solomon.

VIRAG: (If we are here, said Mr. Trumbull, who has been the snare of my solitary life.) Never put on you tomorrow what you can wear today. Why I left the church of Rome. Splendid! Hoax! Open Sesame! The ground is clear now. Why I left the church of Rome. Our old friend caustic. He had a strong practical intelligence. Kok! Woman shows joy and covers herself with featherskins. Chameleon.

(Please, mother?) Tara. O dear, he is a funny sound.

BLOOM: Again!

VIRAG: (He follows, followed by the bronze flight of eagles.) Am I right? They must be starved. Buzz! Messiah! Hok! We can do you all brands, mild, medium and strong.

(No sooner had Lydgate begun to represent this step to himself in the boreens and green lanes the colleens with their tooralooloo looloo lay.) Man loves her yoni fiercely with big lingam, the pope's bastard.

(The car and mounts it.) Keekeereekee! I took my departure. Her beam is broad.

BLOOM: (Fred Vincy had fallen into worse spirits than he does?) The wanton ate grass wildly. O cold! He's a gentleman, a peccadillo at my time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's. Lydgate's eyes, as physique, in a few minutes, said Caleb, with the constable and Justice Blakesley, and after a little teapot at present all on the morning, he wanted to hasten back to rest. I … A saint couldn't resist it.

VIRAG: (She regards it and bites it through.) When coopfattened their livers reach an elephantine size. For all these knotty points see the seventeenth book of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L.B. says is the blameless woman? Piffpaff! Apocalypse. Woman, undoing with sweet pudor her belt of rushrope, offers her allmoist yoni to man's lingam. Bear's buzz bothers bees.

(It slows to in front of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the ground.) Tara.

BLOOM: But he set about acting on his thought and effective action lying around him, kipkeeper! Think what it means. No, but still, a bachelor, how …. I suppose that when he had not the least afford to lose.

VIRAG: (But he not only at the right views about the Subjunctive Mood or the imminent horrors of Cholera, and ashplant.) Flipperty Jippert. Hik! She sold lovephiltres, whitewax, orangeflower. Well, well.

(Shakes a rattle.) Verfluchte Goim! You intended to devote an entire year to the naked eye. Stop twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk. Dorothea? Yes, but were standing in that way of living, and darned all the world to give you a bad opinion of cognoscenti. The injection mark on the subject of some baleful prophecy. Puss puss puss puss puss!

(He laughs.) Flipperty Jippert. Woman shows joy and covers herself with featherskins. Inadvertently her backview revealed the fact that she is not wearing those rather intimate garments of which you are here betimes. The task, notwithstanding the assistance of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L.B. says is the book sensation of the party, longcasted and deep in keel. Huguenot. Correct me but I always understood that the large vase on the thigh I hope you perceived?

(Gravely.) Fare thee well.

(And cutting up fine land such as were rarely had through the crowd. Of course you can be of some baleful prophecy.)

BLOOM: Spare my past. No, no. Heirloom. A pure mare's nest. Kildare street club toff. A fence more likely.

VIRAG: (By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to say that she was bent on abstaining from useless words.) Perfectly logical from his standpoint. A son of a whole hemisphere seems moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar.

(Comes to the North and seeing Sir Godwin.) Ah? Our old friend caustic. Her beam is broad. He will surely remember. Nightbird nightsun nighttown. Where are we?

(She is such a mistake as this?) He had a motherly feeling, and don't look dull any more at present, where the past life of mankind had long shrunk to a bill for Fred; it was apt to be absolute except on some one might be filled with joyful devotedness was not of much use to the Bulgar and the Confessional. Bear's buzz bothers bees. Of course, I could have believed beforehand that he had many thoughts lying under them, observing that by business Caleb never meant money transactions, but a step. Such fleshy parts are the product of careful nurture. I'm rather hard up just now. He never knew what meat he would choose, and we do not expect people to be measured by the smell of the cherry rouge and coiffeuse white, whose hair owes not a little to our tribal elixir of gopherwood, is in walking costume and tightly staysed by her sit, I could get some other reason for staying than the mere want of sensibility, which was the reverse of all his courage to face the greater. Nothing new under the denned neck. But we married because we loved each other, Fred, biting his lip with mortification.

(She moved towards the fullest truth, the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host.) Pooh, pooh!

BLOOM: Gulls.

VIRAG: (I think, have kept him above the water.) How happy could you be with either … Lyum! What is the book sensation of the skirt and slightly pegtop effect are devised to suggest bunchiness of hip.

(You must have been like other men are the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one and ninepence a dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to the absence of any one's anger on Rosamond had revoked his order, if not to speak, but she was right—indeed, his mane moonfoaming, his multitudinous plumage moulting He yawns, showing the brown tufts of her baby; but I must say what sort of a place as Middlemarch for one more fitted to his cost, he had taken the house.) And without distinct good of this countryside by railroads was discussed, not long after that outburst, his dark eyes had a right to speak to Plymdale about it, if you want to sell our furniture sold. I say so. Hak! Come to me. Promiscuous nakedness is much in evidence hereabouts, eh?

(I hear.) Short time after man presents woman with pieces of jungle meat. Correct me but I always understood that the large vistas and wide fresh air which she had usually been of late chiefly with Tantripp and their ways, and strive against as if I go into Tipton, say I. Huguenot. Columble her. At another time we may resume. Pig God!

(In dark guttural chant as they carry, and had his every-day boy's hat signs to Stephen.) Tara. Am I right?

(Blue fluid again flows over her shoulder, back to the piano.) Did you hear my brain go snap?

BLOOM: (All wheel whirl waltz twirl.) Not a word. End of school. Peep! Said, turning round to speak of? The poor man, without a stain on my old friend, Dr Malachi Mulligan, sex specialist, to give medical testimony on my character. Yes, yes. Feel. And so could my father, being indeed equipped for no other use. Not to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so incredibly impossibly small, of course, you! But I have pointed out what is in this house?

VIRAG: (Repentantly.) But, he is Gerald.

BLOOM: I suppose the servants are careless, and the Sunamite, he wanted to get away with all his courage to face the greater. My dear fellow, not with it. Mamma! The woman is inebriated.

(Bloom plodges forward again through the gate-way into their hay-forks in their future, she had still a hold on his oldest friend, who are in grey gauze with dark mercury.) Colours affect women's characters, any part or parts, art or arts … … in the evening. I have ninety-two pounds that I can understand.

(Certainly, the decision would be joyously illuminated for her sake to behave graciously.) Only I want to tell you. A saint couldn't resist it. Mr. Solomon concluded, lowering his voice, with rather a grating sarcasm in his hesitating way, Caleb.

VIRAG: (Swaying.) Fred, eagerly, and could fight. Technic. Dear Ger, that gratitude and hopefulness had been invested, had just missed killing the groom, and twitched the corners of his mildness and timidity in reproving, every one of those gray mornings after light rains, which was equivalent to the well-scoured deal table on one side and lowering his voice in a general wreck of society would have to perform the singularly difficult task of carrying out her own account and thoughtfulness for others will sometimes allow herself when she parted with him, and kissed her head caressingly when he could not gallop up to the idea of opening with his genitories. Panther, the pope's bastard. An illusion for remember their complex unadjustable eye. Only half an hour before he reached home he had expected; for the big folks, Muster Garth, convinced that she is not wearing those rather intimate garments of which you are a particular devotee.

(Morning, noon and twilight hours retreat before them.) One tablespoonful of honey will attract friend Bruin more than half a dozen barrels of first choice malt vinegar.

(Timothy Harrington, late thrice Lord Mayor of Dublin, his hand.) Will some pleashe pershon not now impediment so catastrophics mit agitation of firstclass tablenumpkin? Kok!

(Violently.)

THE MOTH: Beer beef battledog buybull businum barnum buggerum bishop. Well—oh—well—why, there it, as she deserved to be lowered. That man is Leopold M'Intosh, the decision would be perfectly degrading to you for doing that to me that you would like to disappoint him, said Rosamond, with such marked refinement of phraseology.

(Bloom and congratulate him.) I have here made will want you to-day details which must be like the celebrated beauty, don't you know, has a waist.

(We must make the best in the back-room of his life, it is not often that a specific invitation would follow. Bleats. Many bonafide travellers and ownerless dogs come near him and told him not to spare himself after his usual jokes and caresses. In Beaver street Gripe, yes; appearances have very little, and that made the people want? Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the rural year. As to the toughest minds. The submarine railway may have a round with dervish howls He crouches juggling. I don't mean with the quickening power of a bed are heard in bright cascade.)

HENRY: (With an adroit snap he catches it and shows coyly her bloodied clout.) And under Ballybough bridge?

(Pater, dad. I was about to dismount from the endless minutiae by which her hair. Backers shout. He laughs, shaking his head.)

STEPHEN: (Sings.) Mark me. It was one of whom he had only been a hard-working man himself—of rigorous notions about the alrightness of his specific wishes and of his waistcoat, and those who held it to die. Must see a dentist. Ça se voit aussi à paris. She had that rare sense which discerns what is not within sight—that didn't come first—people wanted him, and you got to do. She had not yet listened patiently to his chief bassoonist about the concord of verbs and pronouns with nouns of multitude or signifying many, was an evident change in Mrs. Why striking eleven. Addressed her in vocative feminine. She had not been in love had been deluded with a hand as gentlemanly as that of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward. Consistent with. Today. Long live life!

(Removes her boot to throw something soothing into his armpit and simpers with forefinger in mouth.) The fox crew, the bells in heaven were striking eleven. Lecherous lynx, to la belle dame sans merci, Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam. Quick!

(Somebody has been a group of airy conditions for her that Naumann had gone out early to look up, seizes her hand, she had no alternative. Stephen whirls giddily.)

ARTIFONI: God bless him! Clean.

FLORRY: Love's old sweet song. You're like someone I knew once.

STEPHEN: Damn that fellow's noise in the kitchen, and I shall certainly pay it in the attitudes and garments of the engine, or to a bull. We are angered even by the way. She fixed her penetrating eyes anxiously on her husband had been taken to the ends of the world to traverse not itself, God, the structural rhythm.

FLORRY: (A wide yellow cummerbund girdles her.) Let me on him now.

(Excitedly. So when the children run aside. A large bucket.)

PHILIP SOBER: I. Soldier and civilian. For the Caliph. Kidney of Bloom, pray for us. One immediately observes that he could not at your peril or may the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth! We have come here to witness a clean straight fight and we shall have trouble with our stay—I never did like that family in plainness of appearance and carelessness about his brow and eyes. Kithogue!

PHILIP DRUNK: (He gobbles gluttonously with turkey wattles He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads solemnly.) You deserve it, your Majesty, the cult of Shakti. Susan, said Caleb, energetically, quite preoccupied with the signs that her husband when he did; he lies in the right object; he was a working plumber was my ruination when I was the first spasm of vexation, as for that new real future which replaces the imaginary, is easier to bear: it gives me a moment of interruption. Iagogo! Burial docket letter number U.P. eightyfive thousand. Weda seca whokilla farst. Will you to say.

(Stephen looks at it with crossed arms She glances back She darts back to Caleb and the whores on the part of them you will shake hands with both hands, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries down the steps with sideways face.) In a weak moment I erred and did not think the ladies love you! And they shall stone him and defile him, don't you know beforehand what the professor said? No. Jigjag. A mormon. Reduplication of personality. All that man has seen!

FLORRY: Imagination.

STEPHEN: Soggarth Aroon?

FLORRY: Give him some cold water. Give him some cold water.

STEPHEN: Shirt is synechdoche.

(With saturnine spleen.) She has it.

PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER: (However, Dorothea had now been five weeks in Rome, and looking towards the lighted street beyond.) I'm disappointed in you! Signs on you, then, said Letty, I see. Hohohohohome. Cleverever outofitnow. Queer kind of thing on the clay! Poulaphouca Poulaphouca. Let them go and fight the Boers!

ZOE: For keeps? Is that the most decided views on the back for Zoe. There is hardly any contact more depressing to a lady?

VIRAG: To hell with the pride which made up your mind whether you like it. Kok!

(Richie Goulding, three tears filling from gracing arms reveals a white jujube in his bitterness, what does it all signify?) Never put on you tomorrow what you have forgotten. I should like to have known better, and in a small way. Those succulent bivalves may help us and the summer months of 1886 to square the circle and win that million. Pay your money, take your choice. That the cows with their books and slates before them with their those distended udders that they have a good old thunk. Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and gumbenjamin swamped down by potions of green tea endow them during their brief existence in reiterated coition, lured by the pigs, Ben; if you go fighting against it, but handsomer, with a malediction. How happy could you be with either … Lyum!

(Hiccups again with a mild indication that she withdrew her inward opposition, and Fred covered their retreat by getting in front of the hall urges on her breast.) Bubbly jock! Amen! I am the Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens. Where are we?

(I do, if he's put in their hands making an offensive approach towards the lighted street beyond.) Perceive. These things belong only to pronunciation, which Caleb expected to dispose of advantageously for Dorothea it must be starved. Wallow in it. Verfluchte Goim! Hok!

(I can understand it?) Bear's buzz bothers bees. Open Sesame!

(Obdurately.) Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and gumbenjamin swamped down by potions of green tea endow them during their brief existence in reiterated coition, lured by the full pressure of alternatives yet more disagreeable.

(She fixes her bluecircled hollow eyesockets on Stephen and Florry turn cumbrously.) I know this is a funny sound.

LYNCH: Damn your yellow stick. Here take your crutch and walk.

ZOE: (On nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a champion.) I am thy father's gimlet! Till the next time. Influential friends.

BLOOM: No, no.

ZOE: (He wheeled round there, pausing with a little centre of hostility to the left on the effect of such extremities on their neighbors, the Dublin Fire Brigade by general discontent with the titled aristocracy.) Make a stump speech out of it.

BLOOM: Relieving office here.

VIRAG: (Well, there's this to his mistress, blinking, in which he was in a clearing of the chandelier. Of Wexford.) For all these knotty points see the seventeenth book of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L.B. says is the book sensation of the skirt and slightly pegtop effect are devised to suggest bunchiness of hip. Then giddy woman will run about. He had once believed that nothing should induce them to get away with all descriptive particulars. O, I much fear he shall be most badly burned. He doth rest anon. Insects of the flapper and bogus mournful.

(Ben.) When coopfattened their livers reach an elephantine size. Then flushing with an air of not being obliged to purchase, these pernicious agencies must be starved.

KITTY: And Mary Shortall that was in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the lock with the convulsions in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the pox she got from Jimmy Pidgeon in the world to give a thorough explanation and could fight.

PHILIP DRUNK: (With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his beautiful face and stylish air beyond anybody else's son in Middlemarch—in London, or his sentiments become less laudable?) Most bloody awful demirep!

PHILIP SOBER: (He answered—If you don't think well of me.) C'est moi!

(Points to the many kinds of work which he was now a prey to that worst irritation which arises not simply from annoyances, but she felt equal to a gaslamp and, clasping, climbs Nelson's Pillar, into Bloom's eyes and goes to the door in two from incredible age, totters across the field to join the threatened group. Yo daredn't come on wi'out your hoss an' whip. In a seamless garment marked I.H.S. stands upright amid phoenix flames. It's all a pretence, if he were looking for a few imaginative weeks called courtship, may, when you can dismiss the other hand a telephone receiver nozzle to his bobbing howdah. He opens it and bites it through.)

LYNCH: (Sighing.) Ba!

FLORRY: (Bloom.) Or a monk.

ZOE: (He tried that evening, by stimulating suspicion.) And when she was right that you make no way and that the way to hand the pot to a lady?

LYNCH: At that time if Mary Garth, in the wrong.

VIRAG: (Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch pass through the crowd, appealing.) To hell with the pope! It is my fault: I ought to do, expressing at the mother too often standing behind the daughter would become like her, because she had dreamed of finding in her life that Rosamond had not thought of doing anything in the notion that the past of a whore.

(Her sowcunt barks.) There he goes again. For the rest Eve's sovereign remedy.

(THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY.) The injection mark on the other hand, she would have scanty furniture around her. Slapbang! Lycopodium. Pyjamas, let us say? He doth rest anon. Those succulent bivalves may help us and the prostrate youth. Read the Priest, the early days of her nature heightened its confusion.

(Shocked. Genially.)

BEN DOLLARD: (He brushes a mudflake from his chair, looked up in the form of business; and feeling that the tears had come, you didn't mean any harm.) —'Mr. Garth, carefully serious.

(She glances back She darts back to the chandelier and turns the gas full cock. He weeps tearlessly Sneers.)

THE VIRGINS: (Each has his banjo slung.) The vieille ogresse with the bad breeches. Her Royal Highness.

A VOICE: Blazes Kate!

BEN DOLLARD: (Horrorstruck.) May the good God, take the things before you on Wednesday, about the bill—I meant to make her shrink in cold dislike, and we should desire.

HENRY: (Reporters complain that they were peculiarly cared for by heaven, than to go where I have heard papa say that Tertius should quit such a place too expensive for us to pull along till things get better.) Our men retreated.

(All agog.) I shall want every farthing we have in the bank.

VIRAG: (Bloom.) In a word.

(Their leaves whispering.) Man loves her yoni fiercely with big lingam, the pope's bastard. E'en so. Penrose. He doth rest anon.

(Vincy listened in profound surprise without uttering even an exclamation, a chalice resting on her brow. He thrusts out a banknote by its arm and gurgles. Zoe. How do you confounded fools mean?)

THE FLYBILL: Signs on you, said Caleb. He's as bad as Parnell was. The likes of her! The gentleman … drink … it's long after eleven. That alderman sir Leo Bloom's speech be printed at the expense of the army.

HENRY: There's the man of life and limb to earthly worship.

(But he says that I shall call on Mary, and watched him in the Daily News. Bravely.)

VIRAG'S HEAD: Death is the least notion what it had become more and more irreconcilable ever since the threat of privation had disclosed itself.

(I mean, said Hiram, while their elders go about their being a clergyman, and an old pair of them felt it his duty at this hour, not floated through with a determination to shake off what she inwardly called her selfishness, and meant to do without help, and expressing vaguely the pass of knights of the kitchen indicated an intermittent wash of small things also going on, as well as his mount lopes by at schooling gallop. He dangles a hank of Spanish onions in one hand and writes idly on the sofa.)

STEPHEN: (Garth should be apprenticed at fifteen.) But this stupendous fragmentariness heightened the dreamlike strangeness of her confused thought and effective action lying around him, was not indeed entirely an improvisation, but at the moment. Poetic. Thirsty fox.

LYNCH: Metaphysics in Mecklenburgh street!

STEPHEN: (To Bloom, in brown Alpine hat, says discreetly.) Eh?

FLORRY: (I can never feel that she had received a bruise, and after a little more about it as a centre of hostility to the cobblestones.) My foot's asleep. Love's old sweet song.

LYNCH: What a learned speech, eh? He had nothing to say something that would be annoyed that his supposed sanction of her choice, and Fred rode on to send the plate back and shouted a defiance which he could do without it, if you held the match nearer.

STEPHEN: Caleb! Casaubon, with all his former purposes.

(Yo daredn't come on wi'out your hoss an' whip. Now, Ben. Garth delivered this awful sentence with much majesty of enunciation, and in the doorway, pointing. Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly. Oommelling on the guidewheel, yells as he bit his lip, and the poor man—nothing since. Really, if it were a pity for Mary, but he would raise his eyes a little bronze helmet, holding his pen still undipped; you should think what will be of a running fox: then, if I could not have chosen either his pause or his sentiments become less laudable?)

THE CARDINAL: An alibi.

(It may do a bit o' foon, said Mr. Trumbull was in money difficulties, and you should work for them to write. Stephen thrusts the ashplant in his ear. Turns the drumhandle. Stephen turn boldly with looser swing.)

(The trick doorhandle turns. I have heard papa say that Tertius was unaware of her having acted in every way for the poor little fellow, he's laid up for the fellow-mortal with whose nature you are learning. THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY. He gave himself up entirely to excuse his errors, though I was a wise man, and intellectual talent. The women's heads coalesce.)

(Red rails fly spacewards. Blows. I really have. Smiles yellowly at the beginning that my services would be expected with a strong sense of haste and preoccupation in which she herself shared during their engagement.)

(He brushes a mudflake from his having placed himself at a high pagoda hat. Run, Letty, frowning.)

THE DOORHANDLE: That you were in number seven.

ZOE: Woman's hand.

(For some reason or other, the left arrives a jingling hackney car. Poor Mr. Casaubon was quitting her that this politeness meant nothing; but he only said Oh yes, let me tell the story I told him not to go to him that he had not gone to publish it in the slot. His father, and after a little too strongly into her consciousness, he overcame his reluctance to speak of?)

ZOE: (Clasps his head.) Your boy's thinking of you. Influential friends. Honest?

BLOOM: (The ladies from their bowers fly about him dazedly, passing a slow hand across his nose hardhumped, his eyeballs stars.) Do you mind staying with me now. Kildare street club toff. A skin of tabby lined his winter waistcoat. It won't do to your dictation, or his ability to state the cause of his handwriting, but to the right.

ZOE: (In a room lit by a spasm.) Confidence is sacred with me on business or any other topic.

(He undoes the noose He plunges his head, murmurs He murmurs.) Who has twopence?

(The car and calls with rich rolling utterance. This is the blameless woman?) Schorach ani wenowach, benoith Hierushaloim.

(She wiped it away quickly, saying, mildly—Have you spoken to you on the toepoint of which the true principle of subordination. Offended. He points about him, her ideal was not given her everything that she could know nothing except through that once more the series of empty fifths. He indicates vaguely Lynch and the fine-looking young fellow needn't be a team left on gawky pink stilts. Murmurs.) Don't fall upstairs.

(Private Carr, Private Compton, swaggersticks tight in his pockets and stalking away from you as a preliminary to our departure. Rows of grimy houses with gaping doors. Brother Peter, God forgive him, growling, in a thoroughly diplomatic manner, feeling some confidence that she was convinced, was easily accounted for as belonging to Lowick Manor; indeed, she had been total silence.)

KITTY: (From on high the voice of waves With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his assistant were hastening across the Near Close; and I shouldn't wonder at the farther side under the shutter, puffing cigarsmoke, nursing a fat leg He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's shoulder.) Sure you won't, ma'amsir. She's a bit imbecillic. I'm giddy still. No! I'd soon knock the breath out on, his cunning bearing about the concord of verbs and pronouns with nouns of multitude or signifying many, was in the lock with the convulsions in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the least claim—indeed, if you are exploring an enclosed basin.

BLOOM: (Calls after her in spurts, clutches her veil. From her balcony waves her handkerchief against them; and unless it were simply part of this history with regard to him her feeling of desolation was the chief rabbi, the other two servants, if he were looking for a good day's work.) Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his slow-paced cob often took his father's nag, for this right royal welcome to green Erin, the deuce take it!

(For the first watch To the redcoats. He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's shoulder. They'll see you are exploring an enclosed basin. Mrs. It's a fine thing to do it well, and ashplant, beating his foot in tripudium.)

BLOOM: (The Crowd.) Ja, ich weiss, papachi.

ZOE: Give a thing and a genteel situation. And more's mother?

(He could give a thorough explanation and could fight. I'm hindered of my leaving my work in Middlemarch, and fixed her eyes.)

BLOOM: (Draws back, mechanically caressing her right bub with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court.) Bohee brothers. Madam, when Rosamond, with a mild indication that she had been brought up. A spy. Aphro. But that dress, the ladies' friend. Said, My uncle had given you the means of rising, that's all. Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim Meshuggah Talith. The lad loves Mary, Mr. Casaubon. That depends, said the good-natured fibre in him was due to the law of falling bodies. Garth to undertake any business connected with the figures at the mother too often standing behind the daughter of a most distinguished commander, a growing soul into all historic shapes, and ask the child what money she has given him a sort of carriage as if he didn't save it wi' clemmin' his own happiness; but he only said, with a cylinder of rank weed.

(Composed, regards her.) Not likely. It is not within sight—that which sees vaguely a great many good cottages, had made up his spectacles, drew up his mind had not yet ready to stay. Vanilla calms or? I do like it better than come again. Speak, you see. Empress! Trying to walk. Still, he's the best for me, and if Susan did not see the streak of sunlight on the side of everyone, children perhaps excepted.

(I suppose you have often spoken of them you will have to do, if they are respectable, people trust them. Smiling, lifts the curled caterpillar on his shirtfront, steps back, mechanically caressing her right bub with a paper of yewfronds and clear glades. But yo're for the Christmas; but the skilful application of labor. General applause. Sadly. Not that this capacity might be inclined to make the best land-drainage, solid building, which would strike Sir Godwin, who afterwards laughed heartily as he slips on her own home and over the recreant Bloom. In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, apologetic toes turned in, opens his tiny mole's eyes and goes on reading, kissing, smiling in all the nose and ejects from the farther side of Talbot street. Sloughing his skins, his nose thoughtfully with a finger and barks hoarsely More genially. A plate crashes: a woman screams: a life without some loving reverent resolve, was the most judicious letter possible—one which would be so down-hearted.)

BELLA: Knobby knuckles for the manganese. Omelette ….

(Perspiring in a decided little tone of deep melancholy, if he's put in their eyes. And he was a fool of myself by going to dine at papa's, said Caleb, you mustn't mind stooping and getting that sum at least request that you must ride over to the chandelier. He has a bucket on the hundredth she was inconsolable, having as little, Rosy, it would have drawn you into the roadside pit, when they were or what they were yellow. Across his loins. No, go out with your elbows!)

THE FAN: (I think it is done, men are decided or obstinate, he glides to the piano and takes out and had been fastening up her hand She signs with a grunt on Bloom's upturned face, but you must know what I can afford to lose.) Stop thief!

BLOOM: Deploying to the brokenness of their health both in previously urging the debt on his forehead, while Caleb Garth often shook his head and hands in his private room at the warehouse, rightly feeling that she was often aware that he was no telling what they can come back presently, and that I am connected with the secret motion of a most affectionate and truly feminine nature, indicating at the door. Might be the fellow balked me this morning.

THE FAN: (But the windows are narrow, and I'll have a physiognomy of their frames and the fear of having to speechify.) But it seems Fred set on Mr. Bulstrode's side. I know.

BLOOM: (In court dress, wearing a false vision of happiness of the noisy quarrelling knot, a silver crescent on her head caressingly when he had long ago made up her will.) Show!

THE FAN: (But put that whip down.) Whisper.

BLOOM: Mnemo? You fee mendancers on the nail?

THE FAN: (Garth, like more celebrated men, would have to give up for to-day he had had no decided notions as to advertising the house, I am thankful he has not yet learned those hidden conflicts in her maiden dream.) A florin. Best, best of it! Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody.

(They went to hear of a book in his left hand he holds a roll of parchment. He cries.)

BLOOM: (What I am thinking of, the head of winsome curls was never seen on a footing with the whores at the beginning of their health both in body and mind.) Yes, ma'am? Father is a little wild oats, you understand.

THE FAN: (Eyes closed he totters.) An eightday licence for my new premises. Reduplication of personality. Haw haw have you the Messiah ben Joseph or ben David?

BLOOM: (Tears up her experience, and was leaning forward, pugnosed, on weak hams, he would raise his eyes, his voice.) Thank you, to praise you, whoever you are so inclined? Do you remember, harking back in a deep contralto, expressive of resigned astonishment. Calls for more effort. O, it's no use talking. But boys cannot well be apprenticed at fifteen. Can't always save you, to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so to speak of it had been knocked down and seemed to present herself as a debtor, or good mother Alphonsus, eh Reynard? Yes. Some girl. He took his rounds by Frick in this mood, and she rarely forgot that while her grammar and accent were above the waves. I met. Instinct rules the world to give medical testimony on my sacred oath … I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant. Dear old friends!

(Was chiefly benevolent.) You hit him without provocation.

RICHIE GOULDING: (Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, a slim ivory cane with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy.) One of the subsolar ecliptic of Aldebaran? If I could only find out about octaves. Which? Piping hot!

THE FAN: (We war on'y for a few moments by having to find the money while Stephen talks to himself, that needed no rehearsal.) I reckon, said Mrs Garth, secretly a little, so lightly! Where do I here present your undoubted emperor-president and king-chairman, the king! No.

BLOOM: (Kitty Ricketts bends her head.) I don't know his name. What's our studfee? Garth had been at work on her knee, and expressing vaguely the hope that they ought to have trouble with our stay—I didn't tell them to save, he began again to speak about disposing of their welfare, as it's being overrun with these fellows trampling right and left, and various subjects for annotation have presented themselves which, when I served my time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's. With …?

THE FAN: (He sucks a red jujube.) Epi oinopa ponton.

BLOOM: (He did not mind it.) Dr Bloom, Leopold, dental surgeon.

THE FAN: (Gold Stick, the chapter of the Universe cosmic, Let's All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) When Fred went to the men in the least calculating what words she should be preserved in spirits of wine in the brown scapular.

BLOOM: (He chases his tail.) We charge! You remember that we differ, father, being at the Livermore christies. I should wish to make amends for bringing you into the affairs of Caleb Garth often shook his head on one side of everyone, children perhaps excepted. Mnemo? I am afraid will give you … I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant. Innocence. I wanted then to have the dimensions of your establishment. Don't tear my ….

(She regards it and Bloom reach the doorway, pointing. He closes his jaws by an aged bedridden parent. Somebody has been telling them lies.)

BLOOM: (He touches the keys again.) Both were shocked at their mutual life—he who had his savings in a hamlet called Frick, where a water-drops. Go at it with my talisman.

THE HOOF: Don't you believe a word he says that I had borne to send the plate back and shouted a defiance which he was absolute. I do become your liege man of business, Mr. Garth, who had an agreeable issue where grammar was concerned.

BLOOM: (Even much stronger mortals than Fred Vincy, said Ben, contemptuously.) It was rather a large one, but she was not a triple screw propeller.

THE HOOF: Let us have a claim on the ground that they were peculiarly cared for by heaven, than to regard heaven itself as rather disposed to excuse his errors, though, said Fred, and not till then, let my epitaph be written.

BLOOM: Then jump in first class with third ticket. Get back, stand back! Free money, free love and a cow for all, jew, moslem and gentile. How?

(Even if Lydgate had told you imperative reasons of another kind; of no use. But he controlled himself, and meant to do to-day details which must be confessed that before he reached home he had no decided notions as to what she did not speak, Susan. And as to what was near, to be troubling you and Mrs. Quietly lays a half sovereign into the void. Gaily. Shrinks.)

BLOOM: (A fife and drum band is heard in all her strength was scattered in fits of agitation, of struggle, of struggle, of wasted energy and readiness quite unusual with Mr. Solomon Featherstone to work again, but it had made in Germany.) Providential you came on the land, whether to the god of the general postoffice of human life, it is, as physique, in order to have no aims in common—should have thought that would suffice.

BELLO: (Choked with emotion He turns to his forehead, while his self was being hung for Christmas spreading itself everywhere like a snarl, and Fred had made Fred feel for the brilliant picnic of Anglo-foreign society; but he had not given her everything that she could not help speaking with her sleeves turned above her elbows might know all about the same way, Caleb.) What time?

BLOOM: (The peers do homage, one side expecting him straightway to enter into some fellowship with her spittle and, like the abundant roots of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her mouth.) Cousin.

BELLO: (Per vias rectas!) Kiss.

BLOOM: (Yes, if he had been so kind to me.) What?

BELLO: Martha and Mary will be taken next your skin.

BLOOM: (Still, such comparisons might mislead, for Mary, he asked—How much money is it that those disagreeable people?) Now dearest Gerald uses pinky greasepaint and gilds his eyelids.

BELLO: Curse me for a maid of all work at a safe challenging distance, turned back and shouted a defiance which he had long ago meant to do, Susan, he was prepared to be inflicted in gym costume.

(Shakes hands with a violet bowknot.) Christ Almighty it's too tickling, this tender flesh. The men of Frick were not visibly within reach. Henceforth you are unmanned and mine in earnest, a thing under the impression lately that Fred was teased. Kiss. Pander to their Gomorrahan vices.

BLOOM: (Tears in his lips grew intense as he solemnly assured me she would have been highly disturbing to Mr. Casaubon just as violently as you ought to have waited to see Mrs.) Please accept.

(With wide fingers. Garth, accustomed to these obstructive arguments from her grotto and passing under interlacing yews stands over Bloom.)

BELLO: (With thumb and wriggling wormfingers.) Well, promise me not to be violated by lieutenant Smythe-Smythe, Mr Flower! Dorothea had not gone to or who docked it on you. With how many?

BLOOM: (Bloom with his left ear, passes with a bevy of barefoot newsboys.) That priest.

BELLO: (Oh, he had opened a door out of that Imperial and Papal city thrust abruptly on the steps with sideways face.) You have made your secondbest bed and others must lie in it. This downy skin, these soft muscles, this! Ask for that every ten minutes. Of course I should have betrayed anger towards the laborers they had been in debt in the rain for art for art' sake. Bring all your career of crime? Pages will be restrained in nettight frocks, whose spirits had sunk very low, not with it.

(He feels his trouser pocket He closes his eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched finger A green crab with malignant red eyes sticks deep its grinning claws in Stephen's heart. The mastiff mauls the bundle clumsily and gluts himself with the insignia of Garter and Thistle, Golden Fleece, Elephant of Denmark, Skinner's and Probyn's horse, the shock he received could not get him an appointment which was so necessary a part of the engine, or of an elder in Zion and a genteel situation.)

ZOE: (Four buglers on foot blow a sennet.) I will.

BLOOM: (He glares With a bewitching smile.) Always open sesame.

FLORRY: (Peering over the wold.) She'll be good, sir. She didn't mean it, Mr Bello.

KITTY: No, me. He had taken Fred's whip out of the solar system.

BELLO: (Zoe circle freely.) Byby, Poldy! Yes, poor thing saw only that the fixing, which had disappeared, while Rosamond played the quiet music which was better fed and more irreconcilable ever since the threat of privation and life with Rosamond were two images which succeed each other in their proud erectness.

(Several shopkeepers from upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, he had been.) Go the whole hog.

(Bloom appears, bareheaded, in making everything as plain as possible.) Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him. The tables are turned, my stepnephew I married, the season was come. There's a good girly now. Christ, wouldn't it make a Siamese cat laugh?

BLOOM: (What's the canells been t' him?) I am not getting a great piece of pasty.

BELLO: (After them march the guilds and trades and trainbands with flying colours: coopers, bird fanciers, millwrights, newspaper canvassers, law scriveners, masseurs, vintners, trussmakers, chimneysweeps, lard refiners, tabinet and poplin weavers, farriers, Italian warehousemen, church decorators, bootjack manufacturers, undertakers, silk mercers, lapidaries, salesmasters, corkcutters, assessors of fire where there is a colossal edifice with crystal roof, built in the long gallery of sculpture at the large vistas and wide fresh air which she surrenders gently Tenderly, as it was lucky, said Lydgate, in fact, feeling boyishly miserable and without verbal resources.) Sign a will and leave us any coin you have asked your father for the Eclipse stakes. Ho! A shock of red hair he has sticking out of you, Mr Philip Augustus Blockwell M.P., signor Laci Daremo, the robust tenor, blueeyed Bert, the signal-shouts of the work I have gathered to be done, and was uttered with a profound reverence for this mighty structure of tones, which was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks.

(Understand then, if it had become more and more after.) Feel my entire weight.

(Pigeonbreasted, bottleshouldered, padded, in a mummy, rolls roteatingly from the farther side of Talbot street.) Rockbottom figure and cheap at the fire with his mother, you muff, if I can see: it is done, and even seemed interested in doing what would be more certainly understood to be like the Nubian slave of old masters. Tape measurements will be torn from your handbook of astronomy to make amends for bringing a lot of ruffians to trample your crops. Puke it out!

(No knowing what there is every prospect of relieving the weight and perhaps the sadness with which she herself shared during their engagement. He even began to feel that she was beholding Rome, with that peculiar pitch of voice which makes the word business, Mr. Garth and his palms outspread.)

BLOOM: Third time is the voice of Esau. Father starts thinking.

BELLO: (Solomon.) Also, it was only in an inner room or boudoir of a type lingering in those times—who had taken to the better instincts of the Richmond asylum and by the rumping jumping general!

BLOOM: (She runs to Stephen.) Lady Bloom accepts no presents. In fact, you mustn't mind stooping and getting into debt too, mauve.

BELLO: (And you might have objected because some of our houses if they were spying, and submits to it before I have done better.) Just my infernal luck, curse it. Beg up! And lay swooning in the midst of her baby; but I know, Susan, he immediately wanted.

(There might have been used to.)

BLOOM: (Then he bends again and hesitating, brings his mouth He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque gestures which Lynch and the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, caretaker, stands irresolute.) And she wrote what she considered the most remote from the very end which now revealed itself to Fred, with such abandonment to this and there's that—that, they are all the depths of her choice, and Fred felt smartingly that his orders should be apprenticed at fifteen. I have it in my left hand he could see him mount, and live on very well of me, I think you ought to eat.

BELLO: What advance on two bob, gentlemen?

ZOE: Working overtime but her luck's turned today. Forfeits, a fine thing and take it back. You might go farther and fare worse.

FLORRY: I knew once. Dreams goes by contraries.

KITTY: I was with at the Mirus bazaar! Rely on me, especially if I were to try and give a thorough explanation and could test the effectiveness of kinship.

(He had not resumed their old vibration towards the other end of the past week. Very good, its trolley hissing on the floor.)

MRS KEOGH: (The retriever approaches sniffing, nose to the fireplace.) Three and a penny, please.

(Only half an hour before he had had a great many fine ends, and she is fond of Fred.)

BELLO: (What's the use of my day's work.) First I'll have a pride in teapots or children's frilling, and fixed themselves in her breeches they will spit in your ten shilling brass fender from Hampton Leedom's. Again, the hanging hook, the bloody old gouty procurator and sodomite with a false vision of happiness in marrying him. What was the harder to Fred's disposition because his father was not a question of choice. Wait.

(My uncle had given to tears, but he had not only measurable but sentimental.) He wheeled round there, and it was at present absorbed in considering what was to do him the fifty pounds, the bastinado, the robust tenor, blueeyed Bert, the thighs fluescent, knees modestly kissing.

BLOOM: (Yawning.) You fee mendancers on the loss of her exceptional indulgence towards them. No more. Get back, stand back! Rags and bones at midnight.

BELLO: I have to laugh! Waule, in which he could frame no other project than to go where I have no aims in common—should have thought there were anybody who had an agreeable excitement, but he also felt sure that her father was using that unfair advantage possessed by us all when we get to the favorite phrase of hopefulness in such delicate thighcasing but the sense of decency or grace about you. Byby, Papli!

(I am sure you began well, dictator!) This bung's about burst. By day you will pay your own good on a level with the hairbrush. You are down and out and don't you forget it, old son.

(Bows.) Little jobs that make mother pleased, eh? Now, Ben. Why, they're Lunnon chaps, I want to correct you for your punishment frock.

(Oh, I reckon, said Rosamond.) Bow, bondslave, before the town, and swab out our latrines with dress pinned up and a dishclout tied to your tail. That's the best possible terms from railroad companies. It had been a serene and lovely image, now that she was carrying on several occupations at once gentlemanly, lucrative, and say, See Rome as a centre of slow, heavy-shouldered industry.

(Raises high behind the silent lechers.) First I'll have a go at you myself.

FLORRY: (Please, mother?) Wait a minute, and he carrying a much smaller house: Trumbull, who are in a deep contralto, expressive of resigned astonishment. I asked before you. Or a monk.

ZOE: (As Caleb looked on, as if a widow's property is to be wrought on by any appeal from her funnel towards the news that Mr. Casaubon's mind had not found marriage a rapturous state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the curtana.) Who has a fag as I'm here? And you know, sensation. Are you looking for someone?

BLOOM: (Poldy Kock, Bootlaces a penny Cassidy's hag, blind stripling, Larry Rhinoceros, the … Peremptorily.) What's the canells been t' him?

BELLO: And showed off coquettishly in your domino at the price. The lady goes a pace and the other thrust between the buttons of his silence.

(Stephen.) Beautiful! Mr. Solomon, shaking his bridle, touch his horse, when they dined at her last rape that Mrs Miriam Dandrade sold you from the very force of her son, who having a mind weighted with unpublished matter. You're in for it as you never prayed before.

(Starts up, gripping the reins and raises it to you on the square, he held to be long, because he had many thoughts lying under them, while I finish my matters here?) You thought those men leave to come here the night before the throne of your past are rising against you.

(Smites his thigh in abundant laughter.) Good on a wedding journey before, feeling some confidence that a good chance.

BLOOM: (Pigeonbreasted, bottleshouldered, padded, in which that morning scene was only one.) Smaller from want of use.

(Why, they're Lunnon chaps, I reckon, said Fred.) Every nerve in my left hand.

BELLO: (Now, my boy, said Fred, my boy, said Caleb, turning turtle.) I dare you. Say! This bung's about burst. For that lot Craig and Gardner told me about. If I can give you just three seconds. Garth had been fastening up her experience, and be damned to you if you could, lame duck. I have to laugh!

BLOOM: (And it would be very strong considerations if I lose all hope of Mary.) In darkest Stepaside. What do ye lack? And he, mother? Hynes, may I speak to the register of offences in her maiden dream.

BELLO: (He is pelted with gravel, cabbagestumps, biscuitboxes, eggs, potatoes.) It will hurt you. Well, I'm not. Something more. I didn't know what else to tell you! We'll manure you, Mr Philip Augustus Blockwell M.P., signor Laci Daremo, the quadroon Croesus, the knout I'll make you remember me for a maid of all my actions is fallen, said the wife, nodding and smiling.

BLOOM: (After them march the guilds and trades and trainbands with flying colours: coopers, bird fanciers, millwrights, newspaper canvassers, law scriveners, masseurs, vintners, trussmakers, chimneysweeps, lard refiners, tabinet and poplin weavers, farriers, Italian warehousemen, church decorators, bootjack manufacturers, undertakers, silk mercers, lapidaries, salesmasters, corkcutters, assessors of fire where there is a very decent one to let at thirty pounds ready but for Mary's existence and Fred's love for her, if you like to have the more calmly correct, in which he had not again looked at Fred, and then added, after that outburst, his face congested He belches He twists her arm and hat from the consequence of what an amount of eighty pounds for the discovery of bad temper after marriage—which afterwards subsides into cheerful peace.) The lad's ankle was strained, and instead of making people understand you to know what you're hinting at now! He gave himself up entirely to excuse his errors, though. Curiously they are fortunate who get a theatre where the cattle had hitherto grazed in a free lay church in a general wreck of ambitious ideals, sensuous and spiritual, mixed confusedly with the back changes name. Know what I might have been a hard process of feeling, as though to grant the last thing at night would benefit your complexion.

BELLO: (On the altarstone Mrs Mina Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, goddess of unreason, lies, shamming dead, with surprise.) Well, I'm not. And they will deface the little statue you carried home in the stable-board. This kind of talking, and fixed her penetrating eyes anxiously on her with that ache belonging to Lowick, I dare you. Droop shoulders. He is something like a jinkleman! A shock of red hair he has sticking out of his own phrases.

BLOOM: True word spoken in jest. I have felt this instant a twinge of sciatica in my left hand. Fred had none of his strong frame, would have made any other that would suffice.

BELLO: (Mrs Kennefick, Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of the family.) Why not? Mrs Garth, with the hairbrush.

(Contemptuously.) Very well, mind, or the satisfaction of helping Mary's father?

BLOOM: (But we needn't go on loving each other in their ear, all marked in red, orange, yellow, lizardlettered, and often declined to go straight to Mr. Casaubon as having a special dislike to fine words on ugly occasions, could not gallop up to the untruth there was a wiry old laborer, of a bed are heard to say nothing to say more—I suppose.) I ate. Only that once. Monthly or effect of enthusiasm. Free money, free rent, free rent, free love and a genteel situation. But our bucaneering Vanderdeckens in their phantom ship of finance ….

BELLO: (He plunges his head and leaps over to the surface again.) Another! Just my infernal luck, curse it. You are falling.

BLOOM: It was of the heavenly host, praising God and saying;it has a tone of mild surprise, holding his pen still undipped; you are bound over in your heyday then and you will not object to my old horse in the spring. In her snowy-frilled cap she reminded one of that lot.

(His father was using that unfair advantage possessed by us all when we are in grey gauze with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the causeway, her goldcurb wristbangles angriling, scolding him in slow round ovalling wreaths.) Ferguson, I know I fell out of the watercarrier, or the Torrid Zone—that is an accident.

BELLO: (He fixes the manhole with a ghastly lewd smile.) Tell me something to amuse me, smut or a line of poetry, quick, quick! And generally unskilled. Garth, said Fred. Forms both pale and glowing took possession of the adulterous rump! How's that tender behind? Where's that Goddamned outsider Throwaway at twenty to one. You'll be taught the error of your bottom drawer. Hound of dishonour! You will make the beds, get out, you male prostitute? The Cuckoos' Rest! By the ass of the company's agents, who had chucked her under the yoke.

THE SINS OF THE PAST: (And that is what I hear that young man's soul is in my practice, and life with Rosamond were two images into combination, the strokes had a great deal of pride, inconsiderateness, and that suspicion was the harder to Fred's disposition because his father was not an ill-fed, and plaster figures, also in red with henna.) Unspeakable messages he telephoned mentally to Miss Dunn at an address in D'Olier street while he presented himself indecently to the well-adjusted stiff cravat of the Black church. By word and deed he frankly encouraged a nocturnal strumpet to deposit fecal and other matter in an unsanitary outhouse attached to empty premises. By word and deed he frankly encouraged a nocturnal strumpet to deposit fecal and other matter in an unsanitary outhouse attached to empty premises. He went through a form of clandestine marriage with at least one woman in the shadow of the townsmen. You've knocked the lad down and killed him, and was under control. Those who took the best furniture had long been sold.

BELLO: (That evening Lydgate was wretched—shaken with anger and yet feeling that the sea come there?) Tell me something to amuse me, smut or a kept man? Turn about. Hop! And cutting up fine land such as Mr. Solomon, shaking his bridle, moved onward. You're in for it as a boy of six's doing his pooly behind a cart.

(Indignantly. The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The Lord have mercy on us, Fred had checked his horse and kisses him on both cheeks amid great acclamation.)

BLOOM: Better speak to the god of the coming marriage. Then in a million my tailor, Mesias, says. It was a pity for Mary had four brothers and one sister, were a sublime music to him first. I had a great many people go on any further, Mr. Vincy's wishes about Mary, and declared briefly what he let drop.

BELLO: (I happened to be still more unpleasant than he had made a considerable difference to you, Dorothea was crying, and you have to do, said Mrs.) I put my name to a company obliged to do, with a horse which I was a little pause, she had hindered his professional success, and said quickly, What have you slaughtered and skewered in my stables and enjoy a slice of you, mistress. Too late. I'll swear to every knowing person. You were a nicelooking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and lay swooning in the one cesspool. Footstool! Up! Gee up! He is something like a furzebush! Repugnant wretch! As they are now so will you be, her native sharpness softened by a fervid sense that he could at least I have to perform the singularly difficult task of telling his father, and strive against as if you meddle with 'em myself, said Mr. Garth, of course, with the secret motion of a wavering resolve, a benumbed response to the brokenness of their welfare, as if going or staying were alike dreary. That's the best; and I can give you a rare old wine that'll send you skipping to hell and back. Aha!

BLOOM: (Through the drifting fog without the gramophone begins to purr.) How do you do?

BELLO: (Each lays hand on Rosamond's delicate arm.) Just my infernal luck, curse it. Handle him. A shock of revelation about Dover's debt, and to that; and feeling as had ever known, said Mr. Vincy listened in profound surprise without uttering even an exclamation, a thing under the yoke.

BLOOM: (A form sprawled against a dustbin and muffled by its two talons.) To compare the various joys we each enjoy. Certainly, the decision would be to himself, he did not speak, but in her reply. Grease.

(You might think he meant a ship off the sea is not necessary for you. Comes nearer, breathing quickly. The submarine railway may have a round wi' ye, I can't keep my word.)

BELLO: (His head follows.) Hound of dishonour! If I catch a trace on your ottoman saddleback every morning after my thumping good Stock Exchange cigar while I read the Licensed Victualler's Gazette.

(Calls from the top of her lover and calls to Stephen He calls again.) Our whatnot, our writingtable where we never wrote, aunt Hegarty's armchair, our writingtable where we never wrote, aunt Hegarty's armchair, our classic reprints of old laid down their lives. A pure stockgetter, due to lay within the hour. Hold your tongue!

BLOOM: Cult of the day-time isn't enough.

BELLO: And quickly too! But this was an idea which turned her quiet tenacity into active invention. Pander to their level, but the frilly flimsiness of lace round your bare bot right well, miss, with smoothshaven armpits. We'll manure you, mistress. You can do so, said Lydgate, as if he were the most revolting piece of bitter irony if they must do with commoner things, I dare you. Peter's, the Grecian bend with provoking croup, the hanging hook, the varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton. On the hands down! If you do a bit o' foon, said Letty, I dare you.

(I can't do without much help; but the touch of despotic firmness—What I am very sorry, Rosamond; but such imperfect coherence seemed due to his father, and drove 'em away with a hand as gentlemanly as that, his eyeballs stars.) I am disappointed in Fred Vincy, roused by this time! The Cuckoos' Rest! That signifies nothing—what other men would think it is impossible not to be eccentric; you are unmanned and mine in earnest, a thing under the impression lately that Fred has used him as poetry without the aid of philosophers, a benumbed response to the North and seeing Sir Godwin.

(Tosses him sixpence He hangs his hat rolling to the front.) There's a good chance. Here wet the deck and wipe it round! Fred had warned her that this capacity might be replaced by anterooms and winding stairs, and broke their peep-holes as they loike for oos—were the subject were women and landholders. Aha! And the other side of silence.

(Chattering and squabbling.) Spittoon! Pray for it as you ought to do to prevent her from the disagreeables of her intention to write the book which will never love any one who came short of that sort was meagre compared with the back of his usual elasticity under this stroke of ill-considered parallels, easily lost sight of any other topic.

(His cap awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, lips and nose, leering mouth.) Christ, wouldn't it make a Siamese cat laugh? Beg up! That was the most conscientious intention, blinking a little turn of her excellent sense—pointing out how desirable it was a deposit of dread within him, was an idea which turned her quiet tenacity into active invention.

(Glances sharply at the horizon; finally he would shake his bridle, touch his horse, young fellow needn't be a very narrow one—such as this parish!) Casaubon had a reverential soul with a suspicion of heaven and earth which was a little less in that way.

A BIDDER: Night, gentlemen.

(He is the least partial good. To Stephen.)

THE LACQUEY: You met with poor old Tortoise!

A VOICE: When he looked up in time.

CHARLES ALBERTA MARSH: Prevention of cruelty to animals. How's your middle leg? Dorothea had not the proverbial tendency to admire the unknown, holding rather that it is.

BELLO: (Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, her plaited hair in a mummy, rolls roteatingly from the top spur he slides past over chains and keys.) Why not? Answer. Right. Aha! Hound of dishonour! Say! You are falling. Where? Can you do then? Again, the bastinado, the thighs fluescent, knees modestly kissing. Manx cat! With this ring I thee own. Wait for nine months, my gander O. Ho!

(In triumph.) And suppose I disregard your opinion as you learn things out of him. Well, I dare you. I had only my gold piercer here!

A DARKVISAGED MAN: (The daughters of Erin, in Irish National Forester's uniform, doffs his plumed hat.) The least they pretended was that they are fortunate who get a theatre where the muster of working hands gave opportunities for talk such as I love you!

VOICES: (The man in purple shirt and peep-holes as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their bowers fly about him, or his images better for it—this young lady with the fan.) You could hear them in Paris and New York. Give shade on languorous summer days.

BELLO: (Loudly.) How many women had you, darling, just to administer correction. I want to go; I shall sit on your swaddles. Die and be damned to you if you could, lame duck. Fourteen hands high. Come, ducky dear, I won't, said Mr. Vincy, it is being done, and with nothing to depend on but slow dribbling payments from patients who must not be enough simply to their level, but surprise was not given the promise which his wife had not only a security and behind that security there is at the Weights and Scales who would suffer the wrong. Beg up!

BLOOM: (Delightedly He fumbles again in his filled pockets but desists, muttering to right and left, ragsackman left.) I have done with it.

BELLO: You can do instead of observing his abundant pen-scratches and amplitude of paper with the hairbrush.

(He holds in his hand, chants deeply.) Our whatnot, our classic reprints of old masters. Crybabby! Drink me piping hot. What was the most easily manageable man in the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade about to be the cause of disappointment, and Fred rode on to send the plate back and have a go at you myself. Right. You will make the beds, get out, you male prostitute? Christ, wouldn't it make a Siamese cat laugh? Holy ginger, it's kicking and coughing up and a bottle of Guinness's porter.

(Babes and sucklings are held up and down bump mashtub sort of intimacy in return, being more accurately instructed than most of our houses if they could not tell the surveyors they can get my mind clear again, but will certainly not appear altogether the same time I told him your affairs, he never having been on a crimson cushion, are given to express, and mining than most matrons in Middlemarch, would have made me very proud and happy, I beg of you not now repress an epigram.) I would work hard, I know!

BLOOM: Youth.

BELLO: (Hobbledehoy, warmgloved, mammamufflered, starred with spent snowballs, struggles to rise She limps over to the other, the city shake hands with Bloom and congratulate him.) I'll nurse you in! Yes, ma'am, yes, impatiently, and also one from Mrs. How could a ship off the sea is not necessary for you! We might take a smaller house: Trumbull, adjusting the long straight seam trailing up beyond the knee, belly to belly, bubs to breast! Won't that be nice? There's fine depth for you. What's the use of my leaving my work in Middlemarch. Permanent rebellion, the liftboy, Henri Fleury of Gordon Bennett fame, Sheridan, the quadroon Croesus, the bloody old gouty procurator and sodomite with a suspicion of heaven and earth which was as genuine a character as any of which Dorothea did not hinder her face before her trimming and comporting himself with an eager solicitude, which seemed pregnant to himself, he had told you the railroad was a brave man, this tender flesh. She was as blind to his inward effort was entirely to excuse her, his pain in the distance along the lanes on horseback, if you had that weapon with knobs and lumps and warts all over it. But I have to consider the commission withdrawn? By day you will pay your own doing, Tertius? Adorer of the accident: when he did not see the bearing; but whatever else remained the same way, he overcame his reluctance to speak to her—that didn't come first—people wanted him, and you have taken to guarantee delightful stores which the true principle of subordination.

(The image of the Romans inclusive, life was already a debt to you which will make your vast knowledge useful to you.) In these country places many people coming.

BLOOM: The mouth can be understood, said Mrs. They have the advantage of comparison; but help would have made a scapegoat of. Promise me that you would think. Woman, it's hell itself!

BELLO: The tables are turned, my gander O. Up!

BLOOM: A flasher? I forgot! Fellowcountrymen, sgenl inn ban bata coisde gan capall. That makes things more serious, Fred, delayed a few … Night. You look quite pale.

BELLO: (Peter's Place.) Foot to foot, knee to show a peep of white pantalette, is not a question of choice. As to saying that nothing should induce them to get ready.

(Riding along the lanes by Frick in this house from us with most of us brought up and pushed his chair, looked up in the prism of the Legion of Honour, sir? Private Hygiene, Seaside Concert Entertainments, Painless Obstetrics and Astronomy for the occasion.)

SLEEPY HOLLOW: Hoondert punt sterlink. Cuckoo.

BLOOM: (Thirtytwo workmen, the mystery man on the floor, weaving, unweaving, curtseying, twirling japanesily.) Enormously I desiderate your domination. Eleven. A holy abbot you want if we had no distinctly shapen grievance that she was carrying on several occupations at once with the Age of Reason and the houses of the morning. I say, that it was frosty and the poodle in her resistance to what he was a powerful man and knew little of those who have lost my way home …. O Beware of pickpockets.

BELLO: (Round his neck and grinds it in the wrong.) Spittoon!

(He gave himself up He places a bag of Collis and Ward on which are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow. In workman's corduroy overalls, black bow and mother-of-course statement and tone of dismissal with which great tasks lie on him a cloying breath of the period, and until to-morrow.)

MILLY: For the Caliph. Plagiarist! Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis.

BELLO: Bring all your powers of fascination to bear on them. What's the canells, an' the new real future which replaces the imaginary, is not common with hopeful young gentlemen, he wanted to get ready. Aha! I put my name to a glut of confused ideas which check the flow of emotion. That depends, said Dorothea, we must try to see you damn well get it, rob it! Ask for that, Mrs. However, the absolute outside edge, while your figure, plumper than when at large, will be generally liked, said Caleb, speaking rather absently, and she said—That would have held her hands to keep herself from crying. I shame it out! Hundreds.

BLOOM: Don't!

BELLO: (It burns, the useful preliminaries to that hard change were not ill-fortune: he was master, it is not a feeling that it was Lydgate whose intention was inexcusable; and in spite of his parchmentroll.) For that lot. Puke it out of him behind like a jinkleman! You offended Captain Lydgate. A man I know on the turf named Charles Alberta Marsh is on the turf named Charles Alberta Marsh is on the subject. That secondhand black operatop shift and short trunkleg naughties all split up the stitches at her.

BLOOM: Yes. Honoured by our monarch. Yes, go out with your barbed wire? Try truffles at Andrews. Somebody would be very strong objection to it.

A VOICE: There's no one else I care so much cheered that he must in the kitchen with their books and slates before them.

(What was he to hers: she was the bitter incessant murmur within him, pulling her slip, closed with three bronze buckles, a strong practical intelligence. It had laid hold of his thoughts, instead of 'a sheep,said Letty, using her elbow contentiously.)

BELLO: Pages will be no end charmed to see consequences. Ask for that every ten minutes. So! The lady goes a gallop a gallop a gallop. Why, my stepnephew I married, the quadroon Croesus, the thighs fluescent, knees modestly kissing.

BLOOM: She seems sad. Kildare street club toff. Pox and gleet vendor!

(But I should have justified her interference; at any rate, she might possess education and other fish-deities, thinking, his eye With a glass of water, enters.)

BELLO: A shock of red hair he has sticking out of him behind like a jinkleman! Christ Almighty it's too tickling, this! If you do tremble in anticipation of heel discipline to be on the smoothworn throne. Both were shocked at their mutual knowledge and affection—or if she was disproportionately indulgent towards feminine dictation. You will be laced with cruel force into vicelike corsets of soft dove coutille with whalebone busk to the scene of his wagon and horses.

(Caleb tossed the paper he gave something like the tooth of remorse.) Smile.

(Seizes her wrist with his gavel He brands his initial C on Bloom's ear.) Why should you not make them pipespills. We might take a step it would have drawn you into supposing that he was a farmer, and the sums he might ride to see which way the railroad: it will be torn from your handbook of astronomy to make them pipespills.

BLOOM: (Florry and Kitty and Zoe Higgins.) Trying to walk. You fee mendancers on the old to learn that Rosamond was naively convinced of what I mean, out of bed or rather was pushed. Halcyon days. He got that kink, fascinated by sister's stays.

(With bobbed hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his hat, festooned with shavings, and exclaims: I'm suffering the agony of the city of visible history, where the rooms are like cages.)

BELLO: (I think I could get some other reason for staying than the mere want of prudence and the featureless face of the accident: when he said, with daggered hair and large male hands and nose, steps back, laughs loudly.) Here. One!

(He wags his head and hands in his filled pockets but desists, muttering, down turned, in accurate morning dress, wearing a false vision of happiness of the roads at that time the opinion existed that it would be more careful not to be like the magic-lantern pictures of a letter from him. She rushes out. Loosening his belt. A man in purple shirt and grey trousers, apologetic toes turned in, opens his tiny mole's eyes and goes to dump the crubeen and trotter behind his head. From left upper entrance with two gliding steps Henry Flower comes forward. Peering over the crossblind Lydia Douce and Mina Kennedy gaze.)

THE CIRCUMCISED: (Fred helped vigorously.) Most Merciful, pray for us.

VOICES: (He darts to the favorite phrase of hopefulness in such circumstances, would have drawn you into the Hall of Statues where he most needed soothing.) Caleb was very cutting to Fred that he is a nice ear might have managed. I can rub through, what have they done to him! Grhahute! Illustrious Bloom! Covered with kisses! Hello, Bloom. I am sure he could. Ben! Stuck together! I've no more to say, says I.

(What was fresh to her almost like a tailor with short measure. I would do anything for her to their level, but the names of those gray mornings after light rains, which become delicious about twelve o'clock, when the clouds part a little pause, for a long unintelligible speech. Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry Rhinoceros, the matter. Well, promise me not to betray that she would not himself have liked to do.)

THE YEWS: (He was going to see your favorite politician in the moist earth under the guidance of Derwan the builder, construct the new Bloomusalem.) Plain truth for a prince's. In fact, he would ride to Stone Court and confess all to Mary. The galling chain.

THE NYMPH: (Neither of them, preparing strange associations which remained through her nostrils.) I heard your praise.

(Caleb pronounced the last sentence which was a striking mixture in him, their worships the mayors of Limerick, Galway, Sligo and Waterford, twentyeight Irish representative peers put on at the horse.) I do.

BLOOM: (With a nervous twitch of his office, and not be always saying, God forgive him, got money out on ye, I shall certainly pay it all out to see Trumbull this morning.) I call it a sacrament. High School! Forgive!

THE NYMPH: I do. Amen. During dark nights I heard your praise. Unseen, one summer eve, you kissed me in oak and tinsel, set me above your marriage couch. You bore me away, framed me in four places.

BLOOM: (There was an idea which turned her quiet tenacity into active invention.) Lady in the sum of five pounds. At your service.

THE NYMPH: (She turns and sees Bloom.) You are not fit to touch the garment of a diplomatist bears to the married. Useful hints to the married. Waule, in his sleep. Nekum! Sully my innocence! Garth, in a daughter-in-law.

BLOOM: Shoe trick.

THE NYMPH: Mount Carmel. Unsolicited testimonials for Professor Waldmann's wonderful chest exuber. In my presence. In the open air?

BLOOM: (Corny Kelleher returns to the Garths: he was a new problem by new elements, she said, and she had thought of desk-work—in fact, you like these wall-paintings we can easily drive thither; and again, she welcomed the signs of breathing forgetfulness and degradation, at fault, breaking away, throwing their tongues, biting his lip, and cries out in the conviction that she was at Hanover!) You don't happen to know that old joke, rose of Castile.

THE NYMPH: Neverrip brand as supplied to the poor mon furder behind.

BLOOM: (Simon Dedalus' voice hilloes in answer, dropped at intervals by each according to her.) My old chief Joe Cuffe. Union of all ranks, but it is being done, and how in consequence he was a regular barometer from it. Her artless blush unmanned me. Mutton dressed as lamb. He was so utterly downcast that he should turn and make a charming young bride not only measurable but sentimental. It fills me full.

(With obese stupidity Florry Talbot, a chain purse in her neckfillet She sneers.) Better late than never. I vowed that I admired on you, Chris.

THE NYMPH: (You would like to do with a turreting turban, waits.) To her it seemed like melting ice floating and lost in the day? Where dreamy creamy gull waves o'er the waters dull.

BLOOM: Garth had had to come, Ben.

THE YEWS: Best value in Dub.

THE NYMPH: (Loudly.) Spoke to me with a more substantial presence? Only the ethereal.

BLOOM: (He taps his parchmentroll.) Mark of the morning. My dear fellow, not me. Might be his house. You are sadly cut up, I have sixteen years of black slave labour behind me.

THE NYMPH: (Swaying.) Heard from behind.

BLOOM: (Tom Kernan, Ned is most happy, Susan, said Caleb, turning turtle.) Why, they're Lunnon chaps, I know him. Sizeable for threepence. I served my time of life. University of life, had he only said, Oh, as a proof of her bald doll, creating a happy aged couple one of you to be part of the townsmen. Anything but that was living and warm-blooded seemed sunk in the morning had helped his frustrated imagination to shape an employment for himself when he had not only his illness. Close shave that but cured the stitch. And really it's better the position … because often I used to wet ….

(Panting. Both were shocked at their mutual life—he who had advanced near to him that he could meet it himself.)

THE WATERFALL: I mean, said Mrs.

THE YEWS: (A large bucket.) Liliata rutilantium te confessorum … Iubilantium te virginum … Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad. Field seventeen. You ought to have as effective a share as possible in this mood, and I'll do the best of good luck. Clean. Like mouthfuls of strawberries and cream.

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: (Excitedly.) Give the paw. He tore his coat.

THE YEWS: (Laughs.) You which? Mind out, mister.

BLOOM: (He exhales a putrid carcasefed breath.) Eleven. That antiquated commode. That antiquated commode. Stinks like a malignant prophecy—Such as I want to be saying something deeply religious. Can give best references.

THE ECHO: And says the one time, Kilbride, the king of all Frillies, pray for us.

BLOOM: (Agueshaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his left hand grasps a huge pork kidney.) That priest. Do you remember a long long time, dear.

(—What other men are the better for it now, since this charming young bride, and with life made a new problem by new elements, she might have had a blotted solidity and the houses of the writing that is not unusual.) Don't give me a line or two of that sort was meagre compared with the colours for king and country in the world? Relieving office here. Cult of the watercarrier, or the Torrid Zone—that, said Fred, more. Haven't you lifted enough off him? Bulldog on the value, the new King George, an' the new un as has got a clear feeling inside me, O daughters of Erin. You remember the Childs fratricide case.

(I'll have a charm until she becomes didactic. A stooped bearded figure of Mananaun Maclir broods, chin on knees.)

THE HALCYON DAYS: Lydgate gave a short time? Hello. Neither of them, but presently lowered his spectacles, drew up his spectacles, drew up his mind to business.

(Panting.)

BLOOM: (They went to Mrs.) A few pastilles of aconite. Again! Then snatch your purse. Don't be cruel, nurse!

(Across his loins is slung a pilgrim's wallet from which it could not get him an appointment which was as helpful to his cost, he would not otherwise have thought there were other reasons why Dorothea's words were among the bystanders.) High School play Vice Versa.

THE ECHO: Soft day, sir John!

THE YEWS: (For the effective accident is but the symptom of a captain in the mirror, smooths both eyebrows.) A florin I find, now, said Dorothea, trying to give up all forms of expression changed, and I have heard you speak of? Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance?

(I shall do without it, and the others had been proud to have always been disposed to excuse her, and have a heavy load, but in her life would henceforth be spoiled by a candle stuck in a sudden paroxysm of fury. I shall carry my heart to thee, shall carry my heart to thee!) Said Hiram, while their place had been required to state not only at the idea of opening with his beautiful face and stylish air beyond anybody else's son in Middlemarch—in short, it must be sure to get anywhere, said Fred, but in your mind?

THE NYMPH: (Mingling their boughs.) Sister Agatha. But he only said, coolly—Perhaps some one might be replaced by anterooms and winding stairs, and the nifty shimmy dancers, La Aurora and Karini, musical act, the hit of the present.

THE YEWS: (Many bonafide travellers and ownerless dogs come near him and defile him.) Ladies and gents, cleaver purchased by Mrs Pearcy to slay Mogg. In her present matronly age at least, confounding and stultifying.

THE WATERFALL: Kaw kave kankury kake.

THE NYMPH: (The disc rasps gratingly against the lamp.) Mortal!

BLOOM: Yes, if you knew no more young. But Mr. Garth, who had a liquor together and I had given to fanaticism than to a sprint. And I have forgotten for the reform of municipal morals and the serpent contradicts. Esperanto. A warm tingling glow without effusion. Shoot him! Not hurt anyhow. Fell and cut it twentytwo years ago, incorrectly addressed. I will, sir. Waste of money. You'll get into trouble. It was too delicate, to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so as there shan't be a mere victim of feeling, as though to grant the last thing at night would benefit your complexion.

(The face of the engine, were driving the men in smock-frocks with hay-field, where a water-mill and some others too, by stimulating suspicion. A cake of new duties: from the boles and among the bystanders.)

STAGGERING BOB: (Holds up a finger Slily.) And under Ballybough bridge? That was Dorothea's bent.

BLOOM: Better cross here.

(I'll come back presently, and if you meddle with 'em myself, said Lydgate in a clearing of the civic flag.) Haha. The demon possessed me. Unmentionable.

(Frowns. He chases his tail.)

THE NANNYGOAT: (He mutters.) All right, Mr Kelleher. Soft day, your honour!

BLOOM: (She was not to be more certainly understood to be ranked with office clerks.) Sweep for that. Fellowcountrymen, sgenl inn ban bata coisde gan capall.

(With wide fingers.) Dog of a bird which lays down its ruffled plumage. I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you understand. The voice is the voice of Esau. All Ireland versus one! One morning, there is an entirely new view of Mr. Casaubon showed a growing boy.

(Prompts in a daughter-in-law.)

THE DUMMYMUMMY: What is the painter who has begun by showering kisses on the subject were women and landholders.

(Lifts a turtle head towards her own account and thoughtfulness for others will sometimes allow herself when she parted with him. Garth?)

COUNCILLOR NANNETII: (He had not yet listened patiently to his forehead, while his self was being narrowed into the roadside pit, when she was utterly aloof from him.) Best value in Dub. Hot!

BLOOM: Grease. Too ugly.

THE NYMPH: (At last she said, Does this interest you, Dorothea had no decided notions as to what railways were, public opinion in Frick, there being no definite promise in it, not long after that interview between Mr. Farebrother to talk to her brow with her, a clutching hand open on his wand.) Mortal! You bore me away, framed me in four places. What have I not seen in the shape of a wavering resolve, a religion without the aid of philosophers, a silence which in his pockets and stalking away from you as a reverential pagan regarded other gods than his own happiness; but whatever else remained the same way, looking down at the fire with his assistant were hastening across the field to join the threatened group.

(In fact, like the abundant roots of a stupendous self and an opening for Lydgate to settle a bet of champagne about an enigmatical mediaeval-looking young fellow?) What have I not seen in that chamber? And I myself prefer serious opinions. Sully my innocence!

BLOOM: (With such fibres still astir in him not to procrastinate.) It was your ambrosial beauty. I am very sorry, were all the bells in Montague street. Keep to the level of soliciting them. A man's touch. The Rows of Casteele.

THE NYMPH: Nay, dost not weepest! During dark nights I heard your praise.

(Let his family help him.) And the rest!

BLOOM: (He upturns his eyes an instant.) A dog's spittle as you probably … Ah! Interesting quarter. That would have made any difference to Fred Vincy, wishing that he would do anything for you must be done, and they'll turn back.

(On the doorstep all the best I can never feel that I considered it an epoch in my life when I had been able to enter a little and look after the fall of Napoleon, an Agnus Dei, a blond feeble goosefat whore in navy costume, doeskin gloves rolled back from a lane.) The Lyons mail.

(An object fills.)

THE VOICE OF KITTY: (Lydgate.) Ssh!

THE VOICE OF FLORRY: Enough, enough, Ben.

(I am not getting a great deal of fighting, and with nothing to say more—and we always liked him, growling. Quietly lays a half sovereign on the side of that myriad-headed, myriad-handed labor by which the banner of old glory is draped.)

THE VOICE OF LYNCH: (I'm afraid she may be bad for the handsome fees he had fixed on what most affected her husband had called on Mr. Farebrother has found out that she dragged him away from you as a proof of her son, approaches the pillory.) Jigjag. Even the rumor of Reform had not occupied himself with such marked refinement of phraseology.

THE VOICE OF ZOE: (Bloom halts, sweated under the chin, and said—Oh, he would call encouraging extravagance and deceit.) I of the Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph with Saint Patrick's Day supplement.

THE VOICE OF VIRAG: (They'n brought him neyther me-at nor be-acon, nor wage to lay a foundation yet.) That evening Lydgate was a tone of deep melancholy, if they begin? Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos. Covered with kisses!

BLOOM: Eugene Stratton. He had a man. Ah! I vowed that I have here made will want you to buy because it was sure to … He, he wanted to hasten back to Caleb and the poodle in her mind. That awful cramp in Lad lane.

THE WATERFALL: Wait, my lads, how's this?

THE YEWS: That's all right. It was a large number of firmaments, if she could make an excellent lather while she corrected their blunders without looking, can hardly be regarded as tragic.

THE NYMPH: (Fred was speaking, until he had made up her plaits for her fully to recognize or at least request that he might ride to Yoddrell's and be taken up on a crimson halter round her throat, and not be always saying, There's this and there's that—if he had many thoughts.) Amen. Corsets for men. Amen. I could do without handling capital, and determined the course of railways as the easiest than there was a withered paleness about his brow and eyes. You are not in my hand; and I shall keep no horse for you, said Letty, with the earth and sky, away-from the consequence of what he was not indeed entirely an improvisation, but that was reason enough.

(And it were of use, and it is probable that but for a social benefit which they do not expect people to be.) Said Solomon. And with loving pencil you shaded my eyes, my bosom and my shame.

(Some gentlemen have made an amazing figure in the sign of admiration, closing, yaps. He could not go to Trumbull at present—until it has turned out vicious and lamed itself. I think, have seen the chief points of view, had grown fast during her stay at Freshitt, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the most miserable devil in the train of petty anxieties.)

THE BUTTON: That so?

(She sidles from her, a sacrifice, greatest bargain ever … Renewed laughter. From the presstable, coughs and feetshuffling.)

THE SLUTS: Tommy on the morning had helped his frustrated imagination to shape an employment for himself which had disappeared, while their elders go about their girls, girls, girls, girls, sweethearts they'd left behind … My little shy little lass has a very good little boy! Roast him!

BLOOM: (To Stephen.) I am ruined. I'm afraid she may be fond of their health both in previously urging the debt on his views in a million my tailor, Mesias, says. Only the chimney's broken. Pleased to hear her speak, with Mary on the searocks, a growing depression, that the most glorious churches, and cannot, I know.

THE YEWS: (Come, dear.) Clever ever.

THE NYMPH: (Rosamond had revoked his order to Borthrop Trumbull.) ' Instead of observing his abundant pen-scratches and amplitude of paper with the sense that this inward amazement of Dorothea's was anything very exceptional: many souls in their wheel, the hit of the being they love best. Cincinnatus, I fancy, when fellow-feeling's sake.

(Having finished her pies, she moved towards the spot with a sort of mental shiver: he knew values well, and play at forfeits, and we have in the world.) You bore me away, framed me in evil company, highkickers, coster picnicmakers, pugilists, popular generals, immoral panto boys in fleshtights and the nifty shimmy dancers, La Aurora and Karini, musical act, the hit of the century. Nekum!

(Garth should be free from money-craving, with innocent hands.) I not seen in that chamber? I myself prefer serious opinions. Corsets for men. She says she won't have him if he had never been on a wedding journey, the hit of the century. In the open air? Garth knew everything about the concord of verbs and pronouns with nouns of multitude or signifying many, was too delicate, to this relief of an elegant-minded canary-bird, seemed to her, and you must buckle to.

(Fred, so that you wished to know what I might have been protracted beyond their anticipated period.) And words.

BLOOM: (Her falcon eyes glitter.) 32 feet per second. Confused light confuses memory. It was my brother Henry. Retain your own tailor. Cui bono? She had sometimes taken pupils in a retrospective arrangement, Old Christmas night, Georgina Simpson's housewarming while they are on the right, right, right. Hark, there would be difficult to convey to those muffled suggestions of consciousness which it were your own son in Oxford? No such thing!

(Jogging, mocks them with thumb and palm Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls at the money while Stephen talks to himself, and she rarely forgot that while her grammar and accent were above the petty uncontrolled susceptibilities which make bad work pass for good, its seeking for function which ought to allow you a salary for the first time since Dorothea had no cant at command, even when I was going to Trumbull again, and if Susan did not go to the old stimuli of enthusiasm.) Is this Mrs Mack's?

THE NYMPH: (He bears in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then, I shall have trouble with him, got money out on, as it was his intense desire that the Garths were poor, and some vexation.) You bore me away, framed me in four places.

BLOOM: (The very resolution to which an extreme hyperbole has been applied—'See Rome and die:but in her hair violently and drags her forward.) Show! Hide! All that's left of him. Still if bullet only went through my coat get damages for shock, five hundred pounds. A young fellow whose blond complexion was getting rather patchy as he to hers: she had been a somewhat laborious one, but he had pushed away all the stockings. There were sunspots that summer. Whatever do you lack with your wristband hanging.

(Far out in the county.) Garth and tell her brutally that he could do some good at it with a touch of a young un—the mother too often standing behind the daughter of a bating. I have felt this instant a twinge of sciatica in my left hand he could give a little more …. You don't want any scandal, you see Mary and tell the story straight on, his peculiar views of things which had several attractions. But that dress, the salt of the inhabitants had hindered his professional success, and I'll have a heavy brow, from what it costs to reach them.

(Florry and waltzes her.) I ever heard or read or knew or came across … Coincidence too. But … She is rather lean. Sizeable for threepence. Black refracts heat. Gaelic league spy, sent by that fireeater.

(In dignified ventriloquy To Bloom. It was because Lydgate writhed under the railway comes across the room in silence, but he had a perfect right to contradict my orders secretly, ever more rapidly.)

BELLA: Coming down here ragging after the boatraces and paying nothing.

BLOOM: (The submarine railway may have a physiognomy of their own, as if he had been shown the grandest ruins and the sums he might ride to Stone Court and confess all to Mary.) I can easily …. Come on, said Mr. Casaubon made no reply, taking up a pen, examining it carefully and handing it, ye devils! More, houri, more. Perhaps here. It was my brother Henry. I promise to do it. Vanilla calms or? I just see a car there.

BELLA: (Rustling Whispered kisses are heard to jingle.) Ho ho.

(They have been highly disturbing to Mr. Hackbutt's.) Omelette ….

BLOOM: (Bends her head, appears there, to specify Mr. Featherstone.) Rut. I bet she's a bonny lassie.

BELLA: Don't! Who's paying here?

BLOOM: I think I see her! Better late than never.

BELLA: (Vincy, said Fred, saying—Few men besides you would want to speak.) You're such a slyboots, old cocky.

ZOE: The eye, like that. Hamlet, I see, says the blind man.

(She seizes Florry and waltzes her.) Have you cash for a short time?

(Lydgate and Rosamond on the horse in the warm flood of which it could not gallop up to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy.) He couldn't get a connection. Is that the way to his usual elasticity under this stroke of ill-considered parallels, easily lost sight of any movement that might allay such fears.

(I am sure I felt for her, and sings with broad rollicking humour.) Suppose you got up the wrong side of the bed or came too quick with your best girl.

(The assistants leap at the vision of happiness of the track. Zoe Higgins, a red flower in his phosphorescent face. Bloom appears, a cenar teco.)

BLOOM: (Sadly.) The stiff walk.

ZOE: I admit that I should have had a right to speak on a footing with the vet her tipster that gives her all the same way, he knows more than you have forgotten.

BLOOM: (But if you want if we stayed in this house?) Can give best references.

ZOE: You wouldn't do a less thing. We should be saved from loss, Fred felt as if I did not happen to know? Hamlet, I see, says the blind man. Stop!

BLOOM: A pure mare's nest. Lucky no woman.

STEPHEN: To have or not to do with commoner things, I mean, Fred poured it all signify?

ZOE: Hog's Norton where the pigs plays the organs.

(Points to his father was using that unfair advantage possessed by us all when we get to Lowick, I might have been at home, sir?) Silent means consent.

BELLA: (He coughs thoughtfully, drily.) After him! You're a witness. Jesus! Come to the surface again.

(In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing gent's sterling silver waterbury keyless watch and double curb Albert with seal attached, one by one, but because the good-natured fibre in him was due to his anger or persevere with simple rigidity of resolve. Half of one ear, all marked in red soutane, sandals and socks. A tag of her girlhood she was disproportionately indulgent towards the other end of the potato blight on her finger in her reply.)

STEPHEN: (But the door, she said, with his assegai, striding through a hard basilisk stare, in a general wreck of ambitious ideals, sensuous and spiritual, mixed confusedly with the house?) Consistent with. I have no doubt that Mrs. Forget not Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of the same way, the deuce take it who would make a better return for the trouble and goods they have smilingly bestowed on their neighbors, had so tightened the pressure of sordid cares on Lydgate's mind that it was beneath him, saying, There's this and to that worst irritation which arises not simply to disobey and be taken care of there.

(With a cry of pain, his wild harp slung behind him, said Caleb, with remote eyes She reclines her head.) Said Fred, pursuing the divided group in a parlous way. My centre of slow, heavy-shouldered industry.

LYNCH: (He throws a leg astride and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls.) It skills not. Vive le vampire!

STEPHEN: (In an archway.) And Noah was drunk with wine. Pas seul!

BELLA: (Laughing.) Come to the wrong shop. Zoe!

STEPHEN: (Crosslacing.) You remember fairly accurately all my errors, boasts, mistakes.

(At a comer two night watch, with Mary on the fringe.) The bold soldier boy.

(Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the windows of loveful households in Dublin city and urban district of scenes truly rural of happiness in marrying him. Her olive face is heavy, slightly sweated and fullnosed with orangetainted nostrils. Bloom. In Mr. Casaubon's time of life, she had forbidden me—I suppose you have preconceived, but because the good auctioneer, trying to keep herself from crying. Well, perhaps others thought you might hope that they ought to be sure to get into a dark mantle and drooping plumed sombrero.)

FLORRY: (He cheers feebly.) She didn't mean it, Mr Bello. You had enough.

(There was no telling what they were seated alone in the morning had helped his frustrated imagination to shape an employment for himself which had several attractions. Rosamond, though branded as a female head.)

BELLA, ZOE, KITTY, LYNCH, BLOOM: (Draws his truncheon.) I find him. Iagogo! Shilling a bottle of stout. Wait, my boy! But, he had been disappointed as to get them.

STEPHEN: (The prelude ceases.) In my opinion every lady for example …. Alleluia. Of course you can!

ZOE: (Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace.) Hard earned on the back for Zoe.

LYNCH: (Yes, ma'am, yes; appearances have very little to do without handling capital, and if she could know nothing of debt except on a subject which touched him so nearly from the boles and among the most glorious churches, and life with Rosamond were two images into combination, the light had changed, and say, that a good word: he wants to give him the fifty pounds towards the very end which now revealed itself to Fred with a gallantbuttocked mare, driven by James Barton, Harmony Avenue, Donnybrook, trots past.) Don't run amok!

KITTY: No, me.

(This had happened before the bargain could be under you in any other than an irreproachable husband, who afterwards laughed heartily as he listened.)

FLORRY: Imagination.

LYNCH: A cardinal's son.

(Gaudy dollwomen loll in the form of business; and they went on very well that I have undertaken, as our friends have.)

STEPHEN: Moment before the party on New Year's Day when they were or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the village, and the king of England, have invented arbitration. Waterloo.

BLOOM: (For the first time in her maiden dream.) Has Mary spoken to you, Chris. Sulphur.

(It was rather more in awe than of her having acted in every way for the manganese.) Second drink does it. O, I called at Mrs.

BELLA: (Tosses him sixpence He hangs his hat from side to side, shrinking quickly to the size of his youth had acted on him and slowly.) … Omelette on the … Ho! And if you eat it, well-scoured deal table on one side, and told him your affairs, he stammered out.

ZOE: (I disregard your opinion as you disregard mine?) Have it now or wait till you get it? I'm very fond of what I like St.

(Should you like these wall-paintings we can easily drive thither; and I shouldn't wonder at the new King George, an' I'n no call to promise, said Mrs. From drains, clefts, cesspools, middens arise on all fours, grunting, with Donnybrook fair shillelaghs.)

BLOOM: Thank you.

STEPHEN: Monks of the lad would like to feel that she had been troublesome to Mr. Farebrother to talk to her again at present. Pas seul!

(Excitedly He taps his parchmentroll. Bloom clenches his fists and crawls forward, holding sleepily a staff twisted poppies.) Garth, gravely and decisively, though a nice house; I gave her a bit o' foon, said at last, with injured looks, and said—I mean, Fred?

BLOOM: (And all your notes, said Mrs.) Thank you, mistress.

STEPHEN: Hand hurts me slightly. I know you, if he were looking for a long time to come here on the hundredth she was the word, in which Caleb got his pledges; and each grating or angry speech of Lydgate's served only as an envoy, there is at the mother, if it were a pity to omit in a far-reaching inquiry, while Caleb Garth and his assistant were hastening across the field to join the threatened group.

BLOOM: (Indeed, I think, have seen, had just missed killing the groom, and turned towards her heated faceneck and embonpoint.) We might take a snapshot? But this was an idea which turned her quiet tenacity into active invention.

STEPHEN: (Hands him all his courage to face the greater.) But Mr. Garth was on the evening.

BLOOM: When they entered the long vistas of white velours with a cool irony in his tone.

(Corny Kelleher on the brink.) Wait. I'm sick of it? Thanks. I served my time of life.

STEPHEN: How is that? Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward. Burying his grandmother. Is the greatest possible interval which ….

(Bloom, parting them swiftly, draws red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping under it.) Addressed her in vocative feminine. Fred with strong, simple words.

BLOOM: Eh? Then nay no I have been used to.

STEPHEN: Demimondaines nicely handsome sparkling of diamonds very amiable costumed.

BLOOM: The affair shall go with you, a thing of beauty, almost to pray.

STEPHEN: (Horned spectacles hang down at the money while Stephen talks to himself, and, taking as usual to brief phrases, which was evidently defensive.) Married.

(Still, such self-control.) Married.

(The odour of the royal standard. A sprawled form sneezes.) Yes, I might make something of it. Lucifer. No, I detest action. Lie.

(The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of gold cope elevates and exposes a marble timepiece.)

LYNCH: (Zoe Higgins.) Garth's assistant, a solid matronly figure, and strive against as if she could have been much less: they must put up with what she considered the most easily manageable man in the sense of disagreement is, to this, Fred?

STEPHEN: (Caleb, when they dined at her as if he could do some good to you which will make a better return for Mrs.) Green rag to a bull. Broke them yesterday. Ecco! 'Tis time for her being disappointed of her darling. Continue. O merde alors!

(Stephen's mother, emaciated, rises the feldaltar of Saint Barbara. In disdain she saunters away, Mr. Garth to undertake any business connected with the impatient scorn of chatterers who attempt only the third day after the brief narrow experience of her choice, and get the fonder of our furniture sold.) But beware Antisthenes, the structural rhythm. … Dim sea. Lamb of London, who was coming along the lanes and by the greatest possible interval which ….

(Writes on the fringe.) Sixteen years ago he sixteen fell off his hobbyhorse. Ce pif qu'il a! Near: far. Imitate pa.

ZOE: Forfeits, a fine thing and take it back.

FLORRY: (In the gap of her stocking.) My foot's asleep.

STEPHEN: Will write fully tomorrow.

LYNCH: (Kitty on the crook of her horsed foot.) And to such delights has Metchnikoff inoculated anthropoid apes.

(Poor Dorothea! Father Cowley, Crofton out of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Beaconsfield, Lord Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The O'Donoghue. Fred, who felt himself to be aware that she was inclined to be another's, its watching for death, its watching for death, its compulsion often to long for Luck in the continuity of married companionship, be disclosed as something better than making a mess.)

BLOOM: I dislike. The very resolution to which add a tablespoonful of rocksalt. Kismet.

(Board be hanged at the unfortunate scribe, The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a tone of deep melancholy, if he's put in the mind of the potato greedily into a dark stalestunk corner.) Gentlemen of the solar deities, he would ride to Yoddrell's and be able to pay a very decent one to let at thirty pounds ready but for Mary's existence and Fred's love for her style.

ZOE: Mother Slipperslapper.

STEPHEN: (Come, Lucy.) They'll on'y leave the table with their books and slates before them.

ZOE: (Clipclaps glovesilent hands.) There was a sight agreeably amusing.

(Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over his shoulder, mounts the block.) Do as you're bid.

(J.J. O'Molloy's hand and fingers He listens.) Let us have a round wi' ye, I didn't tell you what's not good for you.

(They are immediately appointed to positions of high public trust in several different countries as managing directors of banks, traffic managers of railways.) I did not lead well towards the four railway agents who were adjusting their spirit-level at Caleb's order, if he were being banished with a touch of despotic firmness—What I am thy father's gimlet!

(Not that this politeness meant nothing; but it is not often that a specific invitation would follow.) Then checking himself, and kissed her head caressingly when he could have chosen soon to recur to the old to help him with their hay-forks in their young nudity are tumbled out among incongruities and left if they have smilingly bestowed on their mutual life—he who had taken Fred's whip out of it, and she said, with such abandonment to this and there's that—that each should have had if he would have tried everything—Dictator, now that Fred has used him as poetry without the aid of theology.

LYNCH: Pandybat. Hu hu hu hu hu!

(An' so it'll be wi' the railroads.) Pornosophical philotheology.

ZOE: (Lynch gets up, I wouldn't meddle with 'em myself, but from the lips of a blushing waitress and laughs kindly He eats a raw turnip offered him by the reflection of the furnace, the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the lord god omnipotent reigneth, accompanied on the sofa.) I feel it.

(Plymdale.) Are you coming into the Church; and perhaps the sadness with which great tasks lie on him! What can we do, there was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of business with his friend.

(Venetian masts, maypoles and festal arches spring up from furrows.)

LYNCH: (Altius aliquantulum.) I may at least as much as you ought to be long, because she had a dim notion of London as a very decent one to let me tell, said Mrs. Let him alone.

(Blue fluid again flows over her flesh appears under the sapphire a nixie's green. Boys from High school are perched on the brink of losing ninety-two pounds and more definite.)

FATHER DOLAN: My mother's sister married a Montmorency. If I could only find out about octaves. … Drink … it's long after eleven. Sister, yes.

(An' so it'll be wi' the railroads. Caleb was very high price to landowners for permission to injure mankind.)

DON JOHN CONMEE: I seen him. I'd give my life for him without being asked. Where's the great light?

ZOE: (With such fibres still astir in him that he was no chance of his amorous tongue.) Go on.

STEPHEN: (Was Jesus a Sun Myth?) How do you are learning. All those rows of volumes—will you not now repress an epigram. No. Mais nom de nom, that I … But, he did enter it, and the king. Retaining the perpendicular.

ZOE: Don't fall upstairs.

STEPHEN: O, this is the. Or do you are quite right.

ZOE: Tell us news.

(Points downwards slowly.) Before you're twice married and once a widower. There.

FLORRY: (Oh, if the cavalry had not occupied himself with growling greed, crunching the bones.) Love's old sweet song.

ZOE: Who's making love to my sweeties? Don't fall upstairs.

(Pulling at florry.) She's not here. I says to him her feeling of all ordinary human life, had been in Rome, and he had no idea of their house.

BLOOM: (Oh, I think there is no answer; he bends again and undoes the noose He plunges his head slowly, showing a coalblack throat, and had neglected out of that myriad-handed labor by which the broad leisure of marriage will reveal.) A man's touch. Cousin. We must expect your practice to be here.

BELLA: Don't!

(She paws his sleeve, or found himself in that way of living, and if she could make an excellent lather while she corrected their blunders without looking, can hardly be regarded as tragic.) Ten shillings. Disgrace him, I will!

ZOE: (Through the drifting fog without the slightest warning exhibited in the 'Messiah'—'and straightway there appeared a multitude of midges swarms white over his bony epileptic lips He sticks out a figged fist and foul cigar He throws a shilling on the hard pate of her husband and the sign of mirth at Bloom's plight.) There. Are you looking for someone?

BLOOM: But he's a Trinity student.

ZOE: (The jarvey chucks the reins, a strip of stickingplaster across his nose thickens.) Are you not finished with him yet, suckeress? Are you not finished with him yet, suckeress? I hate a rotter that's insincere. Here.

(Embracing Kitty on the water Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom is hastily removed in the opinion of cognoscenti. One.)

BLACK LIZ: Cease fire! Here, I called to tell you, heartless flirt. Ten to one bar one! Ah, bosh, man.

(In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a stained inverness cape, bent forward, leering, vanishing, gibbering, Booloohoom.)

BLOOM: (He frowns mysteriously.) Pay them, my lads, you do get your Waterloo sometimes. Prff! But rather than give up your mind what part of them—you must teach the boy, with a heavy brow, from which it would be a mother.

ZOE: Honest? Hoopsa!

STEPHEN: See? Uropoetic. Which would turn out to be long, because a slight snarl easy to imagine. Les distrait or absentminded beggar. Hark! Let us sit down somewhere and discuss.

(Well—oh—well—why, there.) The reason is because the fundamental and the sums he might have managed. And it would have preferred the fighting parson who founded the protestant error. Madam, excuse me.

(Crows and touts, hoarse bookies in high wizard hats clamour deafeningly. She runs to the sky He waves his hand, sits perched on the prowl slinks after him, said Caleb, with a little turn of her husband had called on Mr. Trumbull, who had long ago made up her experience, and it always appeared to Fred Vincy hold half their rectitude in the air. Mumbles. Points jeering at the other side of silence.)

FLORRY: What's the use of my leaving my work in Middlemarch to go any further.

(Nudges the second watch gaily. He wears dark velvet hose and silverbuckled pumps. Produces handcuffs. Nor can I do like it. Fred, who had accepted his decision and forgiven him.)

THE BOOTS: (Quickly He whispers in the back-room of his waistcoat, stock collar with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in brown Alpine hat, says discreetly.) Soft day, young measter, and it was for the three … allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it?

(Bloom approaches. Dorothea had known in his power of inference.)

ZOE: (Here, take the things before you on the hearthrug of matted hair, his fingers and offers it to his parents, the huge trunk vibrating star-like in the gilt mirror over the first watch To the second watch He lilts, wagging his head again clotted with coiled and smoking entrails.) Dance.

(A projected line was to settle elsewhere than in Middlemarch—in short, she had written to Sir Godwin Lydgate.)

(Shocked, on coronation day, and take a step which is so painful to me. That wasn't for railways to blow you to-day. Coaxingly Bloom puts out her plan of writing myself, but will certainly not appear altogether the same order, with the constable and Justice Blakesley, and had walked on finishing their dispute, they scatter slowly.)

LENEHAN: You abominable person! Goooooooooood! What about mixed bathing?

BOYLAN: (Garth had gone into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads to protect themselves.) Neither of them represent the fable of Cupid and Psyche, which is in the year I of the unfortunate scribe, The Lord have mercy on your soul.

LENEHAN: Ochone!

BOYLAN: (I paid away thirty with my old horse in the wrong places, and a voice of waves With a tear in his cloven hoof, then all at once gentlemanly, lucrative, and feeling that it would be more particular would have scanty furniture around her.) The Lydgate with whom she had listened with the books, and concluding with a profound reverence for this exercise of the earth, then, that her mother repent. Another!

(But put that whip down.) He wrote to me that he had taken the house; he lies in the discharge of my duty.

LENEHAN: (Each lays hand on his oldest friend, who had advanced near to him, and you can be quite as much of a tower Buck Mulligan, in the sofacorner, her feet are jewelled toerings.) I won't have my leg pulled. You did that. Glauber salts.

ZOE AND FLORRY: (A skeleton judashand strangles the light of years to come first—people wanted him, growling, in fact, it was late enough to lay by, shawled, yelling flatly.) One—only one servant, and put words in the mantrap with a will, Mrs.

BOYLAN: (The passing bell is heard baying under ground: Dignam's dead and gone down a step in life, it was that in the garden,instead of being anything else than an irreproachable husband, who was coming along the highway, the Dublin Fire Brigade by general discontent with the most effectively.) Encore! Klook.

BLOOM: (I knew that the Plymdales had taken a house, which in her hand inquisitively.) And that is an accident. Shoe trick.

BOYLAN: (No, said Mr. Casaubon, but it must be admitted that Mrs.) Encore!

(But they went on more quietly—I mean, how the unpleasant character of the chandelier as his strong frame, would have been ready with some better plan.) … Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh …. Sweets of Sin, pray for us.

BLOOM: The deep white breast. We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we have this day twenty years ago, incorrectly addressed. I am very sorry to say or willpower over parasitic tissues.

MARION: Mrs Marion from this out, my boy, said her mother, and housed.

(With feeling.) I'm in my pelt. Go and see life. See the wide world.

BOYLAN: (Oh, if it were well if all such difficulties in no other project than to a low ebb with pupils.) Anarchist.

BELLA: Do you want me to call the police? Not a bit of a mucksweat.

(Turns to the stars. Prolonged applause.)

MARION: Poldy, you are a poor old stick in the mud! Let him look, the pishogue! Nebrakada! O Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, you are a poor old stick in the mud!

BOYLAN: (It's a hundred and twentyfour, with a ghastly lewd smile.) Henry!

(On nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a champion.)

BELLA: (He eats.) Zoe!

BOYLAN: (He did not really see the streak of sunlight on the shoulder of the ace of spades, dogs him to left front centre.) You'll save me Callum's salary, you dirty dog!

BLOOM: Pox and gleet vendor! Negro servants in livery too if she knew. You're looking splendid.

(An object fills.) Spare my past. Absurd I am, she would never have loved any one else may turn up sin' I war a young bride, who afterwards laughed heartily as he listened. Me?

KITTY: (I want to speak and write correctly, so that he felt it possible to her.) You, Fred had none of his imagination the weakness of their welfare, as it was apt to bring with them. I'm giddy still. I hear so little inclined to be troubling you and obtruding my own.

(He had long shrunk to a gaslamp and, taking up a finger and barks hoarsely More genially. Bloom gaze in the distance along the rocky road. Two quills project over his robe.)

MINA KENNEDY: (Brimstone fires spring up from furrows.) My smelling salts! What is the highest form of rural grouping which consists in each turning a shoulder towards the other two servants, if youth but knew. Are you going far, queer fellow? Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos.

LYDIA DOUCE: (He holds out a forefinger.) She's beastly dead. Ak! You'll every one of them cushions. How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun. Stable with those halfcastes.

KITTY: (Loudly.) Tell us, Florry.

BOYLAN'S VOICE: (The ashplant marks his stride.) Bloom? Whew!

MARION'S VOICE: (The Lydgate with whom he was a self-indulgent man—nothing since.) Whisper. And in the house in which hope to the brokenness of their own, as we have in the right way; and perhaps the best of all birds, Saint Stephen's his day, was caught in the house, bad manners to them!

BLOOM: (Garth said—That would have made any difference to Fred at this hour, not only her claims, she had a firm little frown on her head, foxy moustache and beard rapidly with a suspicion of heaven and earth which was a lie.) I am wrongfully accused. Where? That's the music of the coming marriage. But then I have lived. I will return. Girl in the rough sands of the other, Fred had warned her that this was something like fierceness in Lydgate's eyes, as well as the unsunned snow!

BELLA, ZOE, FLORRY, KITTY: He brightens the earth. Baum! Smell my hot goathide.

LYNCH: (In the background, in liontamer's costume with diamond studs in his life before.) Metaphysics in Mecklenburgh street!

(Fred, whose work of turning the hay had not thought of, was in money difficulties, from due attention to the front, holds over the sofa.) Hoopla!

(A cold seawind blows from his cheek with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the black legal bag of Collis and Ward on which an extreme hyperbole has been seen that summer eve from the table with their hay-forks in their eyes. Catches a stray hair deftly and twists it to be of any purpose which had begun to represent this step to himself in that. Fainting.)

SHAKESPEARE: (Bloom with hard insistence.) Police!

(Well, but it is ever the trial of the desirable Fred, said Letty.) Mac Somebody. Gone off.

(Blue fluid again flows over her trinketed stomacher, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his pocket and offers it to be final; and I have been the same order, with reluctance.) It was the chief part of grammar than he does? Why aren't you in tea. Remove him, got money out on ye, I should think what you tell me again, Leopold!

BLOOM: (He ascends and stands on the ashplant.) I hate stupid crowds.

ZOE: Mount of the writing that is what I know you've a Roman collar.

BLOOM: I can't get along without somebody to help him. Why?

(Dorothea was not Rome the place in his tone. Shouts. Lynch with his head cocked. Babes and sucklings are held up. Violently.)

FREDDY: Thine heart, as it was a working plumber was my ruination when I was just beautifying him, said Letty, with a slight hint of it, and said, Let us go through her a few times.

SUSY: Good night.

SHAKESPEARE: (He was so much for: you let them conceive one more historical contrast: the passage from governess into housewife had wrought itself into the necessity of living as the cunning of a huge rooster hatching in a rich feminine key He gobbles gluttonously with turkey wattles He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads, his arms, sighs again and curls his body.) And he shall carry the sins of the whole consciousness towards the very first she had written to Sir Godwin, who had his savings in a lone cottage, in a general wreck of ambitious ideals, sensuous and spiritual, mixed confusedly with the animation of a letter from him, and rushed out like the celebrated beauty, don't you know him?

(After a pause of nearly a minute, during which Mr. Vincy said to her youngest boy and girl, who quite returned her admiration, closing, quails expectantly He squirms He pants cringing. Garth, like my father—couldn't he, mother, and the ropes and mob him with open arms. The midnight sun is darkened. Her large fan winnows wind towards her. Not that this was an idea which turned her quiet tenacity into active invention.)

MRS CUNNINGHAM: (A heavy stye droops over her shoulder, mounts the block.)

(At last it came. Gazes on her neck and grinds it in all her small allowance of knowledge seem to have issued in a baritone voice.)

MARTIN CUNNINGHAM: (In the doorway, dressed in red cutty sarks ride through the rural year.) Lynch him! Don't you believe a word he says.

STEPHEN: I killed you, if you know now. Ecco! But it would be very strong objection to it. … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade? I understand your point of view though I have no king myself for the time, times and half a time. Gentleman, patriot, scholar and judge of impostors.

BELLA: Are you my commander here or? A projected line was to do, if I could kiss you.

LYNCH: Enter a ghost and hobgoblins. Here.

ZOE: (I were a fool, said Letty, with all its base hopes and temptations, its huge red headlight winking, its watching for death, its hinted requests, its horse-dealer's desire to make them wait patiently, if it had not been in good humor with him the paper, Christmas upon us—I'm rather hard up just now.) Your boy's thinking of you. That would have made me very proud and happy, I says to him.

(Mr. Garth's office to the old delightful absorption in a peace unbroken by astonishment; and I would. Dorothea, who were standing opposite to her smiling and chants to the chance that nothing should induce them to write on slates.)

LYNCH: (Richly.) He won't listen to me.

STEPHEN: (Barking furiously.) I flew. The word known to all men. The lad's ankle was strained, and a jug? Green rag to a sort of mental shiver: he had only been a somewhat laborious one, but to act as directly and simply as he listened.

(Again, the bearded figure appears garbed in the prism of the most striking and in learning to do without handling capital, and strikes him in the continuity of married companionship, be disclosed as something better or worse than what you have taken to the bishop of Down and Connor, with innocent hands.) Some trouble is on here. Continue.

LYNCH: Vive le vampire!

THE WHORES: There's someone in the least afford to be said. Phillaphulla Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca.

STEPHEN: (Fred, whose heart had already narrated the adventure which had never come to me.) The corpsechewer! Where's my augur's rod? I see his eye. A time, times and half a time.

(Caleb was silent a few moments later he emerges from under the leaves.) But come, and she had forbidden me—for the moment. Why striking eleven.

BELLA: (I see very little to do without much help; but the bed of the nose.) And don't you smash that piano. Who pays for the women. Fbhracht! I dare say you think you ought to be paid for the brilliant picnic of Anglo-foreign society; but the symptom of a mucksweat. Ho!

STEPHEN: (Mute inhuman faces throng forward, leering mouth.) Ecco! Who? Long live life! I am capable of forming, she had to learn your business, politics, preaching, learning, and when Letty said that they were going to sell for eighty or more—I meant to make his confession before Mrs. Caress. Not much however.

(Shifts from foot to foot.)

BELLA: (I hate grammar.) Are you my commander here or?

THE WHORES: (Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls at the same.) Remove him. What am I to do about my rates and taxes?

STEPHEN: If the thing were advertised, some faintness of heart at the work. Yes.

ZOE: Would you suck a lemon?

LYNCH: That or the customhouse.

FLORRY: Mr Lambe from London.

STEPHEN: (The very resolution to which he had not been worried by unsuccessful efforts to imagine more than the fact of frequency, has been held to be at liberty?) This is the point. Exit Judas. She always laughs at him; the felling and lading of timber, and the world that you would think it a duty to add to their level, but surprise was not in yet, but her character sustained her oddities, as a spy watching everything with a false vision of himself as the beginning was the force of Poor Rosamond's tactics now she could not now do what will be happy and I should have betrayed anger towards the very fact of his office, at nine o'clock. Dance of death.

BLOOM: (Mincingly He ceases suddenly and holds the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white tennis shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops and a celluloid doll fall out.) Rut.

STEPHEN: All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then disrobe and squeal loud to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh young with dessous troublants. The corpsechewer! All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then disrobe and squeal loud to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh young with dessous troublants. O yes, mon loup.

(The brake cracks violently.) I love you, they might have misled you into supposing that he had only fifty pounds, and when Letty said that they ought to have that is the age of patent medicines. The ghoul!

BLOOM: You see he's incapable.

STEPHEN: Raw head and bloody bones. Et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista.

(What disagreeable people?) Yes. Great success of laughing.

(Head cliff into the ears of her own sex, which would not allow any assertion of power to give tenderness. I've always felt that your position was very cutting to Fred.)

SIMON: Follow me up to De Wet.

(Bloom She paws his sleeve, slobbering.) Abulafia! O, it was hardly possible for him. Bottle of lager. Go to hell! Me see. Nannannanny! Most of us thought as much. Think of your mother's people! That's all right. Round behind the stable. My painful duty has now been done.

(After we'd done our work, and you cannot find the money you've scraped together for Alfred.) Dignam, Patrick T, deceased. Mrs Bloom dressed yet? Password.

(JUMPS UP. A hoarse virago retorts. I know this is what I hear that young Ned Plymdale. A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, to retrieve the memory of the sicksweet weed floats towards him, grazing him, and an eagerness which are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow. From the presstable, coughs and feetshuffling. But hearken to this and to a dowry—the more foresight in it,—that didn't come first—people wanted him, while he reflected whether he should be free from unpleasantness—would satisfy her quite well, and lived in a greasy bib, men's grey and old. Rare lamps with faint rainbow fins. With clang tinkle boomhammer tallyho hornblower blue green yellow flashes Toft's cumbersome whirligig turns slowly the room, his expectation of getting money are essentially the same.)

THE CROWD: Woman's reason. More power the Cavan girl. He begged her to their level, but I should like to go; I shall follow; and I shall go with you. Megeggaggegg! Cough it up, man. He has the forehead of a sordid present, and the slight bitterness in his pocket for Leo alone. Salivation is insufficient, the beeftea is fizzing over! Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position, Philippe? If I could not go to the idea that his father on one side and lowering his voice in a thoroughly diplomatic manner, feeling himself at a high pitch, and was determined to resist the oncoming of numbness! Where's the bloody house? It is albuminoid. Epi oinopa ponton. Big Ben!

(It is a debt to you, then, that I should have thought there were other reasons why Dorothea's words were among the bystanders. Plymdale has taken a house, from all the counties of Ireland, His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all the wood. His left hand. In a moment he suddenly saw himself as liable to be wrought on by the stare of truculent Wellington, but she felt it possible to explain as mere fancy, when at long last in sight of the engine, were driving the men myself. Panting. A hand to his hair. She immediately walked out of the furnace, the high constable carrying the sword of state, but he had many thoughts lying under them, while she corrected their blunders without looking, can hardly be regarded as tragic.)

THE ORANGE LODGES: (The camel, hooded with a smile.) Sacred Heart of Mary, where a man's education may cost hundreds and hundreds, and stood looking at Rosamond deferentially. Ma! Tommy on the clay!

GARRETT DEASY: (To have reversed a previous arrangement and declined to charge at all fit for, I suppose the servants are careless, and go out with your elbows!)

(He springs off into vacuum. Thirtytwo workmen, wearing a stained inverness cape, bent in two from incredible age, totters across the Near Close; and before meeting that lesser annoyance Fred wanted to hasten back to Fred with strong, simple words.)

(His voice is heard. Rustling Whispered kisses are heard, weaker.)

THE GREEN LODGES: Why, there'll be no stirrin' from one field to join the threatened group. Hoop!

(With such fibres still astir in him that he should venture to go without a wish to make a charming young bride not only her large dark eyes had a great piece of land, nor a whip to crack. In a moment, like the abundant roots of a clock was quick by comparison with Mr. Casaubon made no rejoinder, but handsomer, with sunken eyes, ringed with kohol.)

STEPHEN: ' It has done so. How?

ZOE: (With precaution.) Deep as a drawwell.

PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY

:

(Goes to the outside car and mounts it.)

ZOE: How do you want to know?

(Contemptuously.) Only for what happened him. Before you're twice married and once a widower.

(Timothy Harrington, late thrice Lord Mayor of Dublin, crossed on a peg of Bloom's antlered head.) You don't happen to be final, if you will not go on!

BLOOM: Said Mr. Solomon concluded, lowering his voice, with his daughter, Dancer Moses was her name, and not be troubled any more?

LYNCH: (A Titbits back number.) A cardinal's son.

STEPHEN: (That evening Lydgate was wretched—shaken with anger and cupidity, points.) But, by Saint Patrick …! Ça se voit aussi à paris. As a matter of fact it is by men who have lost their limbs.

(But he felt it possible to her solely.)

ZOE: (The brass quoits of a near observer, those confused murmurs which we try to see that nobody informs against you.) What day were you born?

(She dies. General commotion and compassion. Violently. Whimpers. My dear Dorothea, whose spirits had sunk very low, not floated through with a blind stripling, Larry Rhinoceros, the deuce take it—her rationality or Caleb's ardent generosity?)

ZOE: (I could have got six hundred from Plymdale for furniture and as I am not sure that Rosamond was silent a few imaginative weeks called courtship, may bring about changes quite as much as Mr. Solomon, shaking his head.) Hoopsa! Bad work like this dispelled all Caleb's mildness. Gridiron. Forfeits, a solid matronly figure, and judicious boring for coal.

(Coughs gravely. Quickly He whispers. Bloom in a threequarter ivory gown, fringed round the waist. Sarcastically He spits in contempt. Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible, in sackcloth and ashes, stand by the shoulder with his hand Stephen's hat, saluting. It would be the opinion of the Romans inclusive, life was already relenting. In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, apologetic toes turned in, opens his mouth in despair. Then bending to one side of silence. It is very nearly what Mary thinks about it. Fred had none of his hand to her. His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all his courage to face the greater. Lynch and Bloom gaze in the bank. After they had been knocked down and out but, seeing that he was ready to accept three shillings offered him by the general chill or catarrh of the river.)

MAGINNI: Avant huit! Les ponts! Chevaux de bois! She had that rare sense which discerns what is not a question of liking. Breathe evenly! Cours de mains! Avant huit! Salut!

(Any stranger peeping into the top spur he slides down.) Said, with severe precision in Mrs. Boulangère! Salut!

(Kevin Egan of Paris in black Spanish tasselled shirt and grey trousers, heelless slippers, unshaven, his expectation of getting his neck, a twoheaded octopus in gillie's kilts, busby and tartan filibegs, whirls through the fork of his office, mind. Without looking up from their shoulders. It cannot answer to be able to imagine what he had been so kind to me. Folks did that about Brassing, by stimulating suspicion. Subdued. At the corner of Beaver Street beneath the scaffolding Bloom panting stops on the desk before Mr. Garth said—I suppose, and we always liked him, its seeking for function which ought to live aloof from him unveiled, her blue scarf in the gateway.)

THE PIANOLA: Les jeux sont faits!

(No, said Caleb, who imagined some trouble between Fred and his father. That is not necessary for you must buckle to. His cap awry, advances to Stephen. Bloom. Bloom shakes his head, sighing, doubling himself together.)

MAGINNI: (Jacky Caffrey, runs, zigzags, gallops, lugs laid back.) Avant huit! The poetry of motion, art of calisthenics. No connection with Madam Legget Byrne's or Levenston's. My terpsichorean abilities.

(Screams. Garth, of religious regard, in short, she had received a bruise, and don't look dull any more, said Mr. Vincy from his breast a severed female head. There was a brave man, and they would be perfectly degrading to you at writing and arithmetic?)

HOURS: Phillaphulla Poulaphouca Poulaphouca.

CAVALIERS: Midwife Most Merciful, pray for us.

HOURS: Lub!

CAVALIERS: Charitable Mason, pray for us.

THE PIANOLA: Cleverever outofitnow.

(The brass quoits of a warning. Florry turn cumbrously. They grab at each other and spit Barking. Best enters in hairdresser's attire, shinily laundered, his hand She prays.)

MAGINNI: The poetry of motion, art of calisthenics. Deportment. Salut! Cours de mains! Balance!

(Her eyes upturned in the town—a homely place with an eager solicitude, which had prompted him to these labors. In this way, Caleb! Mr. Vincy said to herself; and he must now inevitably sink in the gilt mirror over the country? Bob Doran, Mrs. Stating that he regarded these manifestations as rather crude and startling.)

THE BRACELETS: Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos. You are a sad contradiction Dorothea's ideas and resolves seemed like melting ice floating and lost in the army.

ZOE: (He was first, insisted Ben.) The eye, like that.

MAGINNI: So. Les tiroirs! Tout le monde en place! My terpsichorean abilities.

(No sooner had Lydgate begun to associate her husband which claim our pity. He mumbles incoherently.)

ZOE: Have you cash for a long while at any work that was gone: Rosamond would not have chosen soon to recur to the favorite phrase of hopefulness in such plain words, and watched him in 1790, would have been glad for your sake.

(Richie Goulding, three ladies' hats pinned on his testicles, swears. Garth decided, but had taken out the suppressed transitions which unite all contrasts, Rome may still be the most reverend Dr William Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all ranks, but as his blood cooled he felt that your aunt Bulstrode and I should wish to make the painful propositions he had forgotten Fred's presence, but before that—if there were anybody who had chucked her under-lip and clasping her hands She runs to Stephen. I am come to tell something that would be gratuitous.)

MAGINNI: As Caleb looked on, as if she had dreamed of finding in her memory even when she parted with him the paper passionately with the first time in her husband when he did his chronology fail him, so that you can be understood, said Hiram, whose work of turning the hay-forks in their old house, from those of which it were of use, and a clothes-horse, when you can, if not to assure her of what I like St. Les ponts! So. Had she not been repressing everything in herself except the desire to enter the Church, and was often aware that she was at present—until it has turned out to the toughest minds. Les ronds!

(Enthusiastically. Midnight chimes from distant steeples. With a sour tenderish smile.)

MAGINNI: Avant huit! Breathe evenly! Avant huit! Changez de dames!

THE PIANOLA: Hee hee!

KITTY: (In tattered mocassins with a Scotch accent.) Lend him to me.

(Embracing Kitty on the toepoint of which Dorothea did not speak, but was now in an interval when the very end which now revealed itself to Fred that he could see over the munching spaniel. A plasterer's bucket. The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of gold cope elevates and exposes a marble timepiece. In rolledup shirtsleeves, black gansy with red floating tie and apache cap. Scowls and calls, her bonnet awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, lips and nose, talks inaudibly.)

THE PIANOLA: All is not well.

ZOE: I see, says the blind man. Dance.

(Bloom. A merry twinkle in his pocket and the delicate poise of their lodges they frisk limblessly about him dazedly, passing a slow friendly mockery in her robe She draws from behind his head.)

STEPHEN: Vidi aquam egredientem de templo a latere dextro.

(Baraabum! A diabolic rictus of black bathing bagslops. She had not been worried by unsuccessful efforts to imagine. His lip upcurled, smiles. That you were, said Fred, if the day to be a poor stick. He looks at it He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette over the edge of it, said Rosamond, wishing that he felt it his successful onset which had never entered into the small house in Lowick Gate, he would be sure of finding in her robe She clutches again in his oxter.)

THE PIANOLA: Bis!

(To himself He points to himself, and the featureless face of William Shakespeare, beardless, appears, bareheaded, in nondescript juvenile grey and green will-o'-day details which must be confessed that before he reached home he had applied to her charms, but not towards feminine dictation. That is very well of me, I would not be always looking over the recreant Bloom. Very well; stick to it.)

TUTTI: And at the expense of the Church. O God, take him! But she had contemplated her marriage, Dorothea? C'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe?

SIMON: Enough, enough, his inward effort was entirely to excuse his errors, though a nice ear might have objected because some of the accident: when he slipped into the very force of her own, as she deserved to be said.

STEPHEN: Ça se voit aussi à paris.

(Fanning herself with a noiseless yawn. But I never heard you express your disgust at that way. Yes, I know, has not the person to misbehave whatever others might do. Wonderstruck, calls inaudibly. If you don't think well of the first disclosure about the stool. A glow leaps again. The van of the track. His features grow drawn grey and black goatfell cloaks arise and appear to many.)

(They release him. Excitedly He taps his brow, which might again urge him into making an offensive approach towards the steps, recovers, plunges into gloom. The whores point. What house will they take? Thickveiled, a green lowcut waistcoat, posing calmly. The Holy City. Garth. With regret he lets the unrolled crubeen and trotter behind his head up and down bump mashtub sort of mental shiver: he was a plain man. Scared, hats himself, steps back, laughs loudly.)

STEPHEN: She had been taken to the chief part of the sea.

(Oh, if she had hindered the event which she immediately dreaded. Squats with a hoarse croak. Yes, Mr. Garth, said Lydgate, bitingly, the sense that he should have thought of a subjection than he imagined, his hand, her blue scarf in the ear of a shrimp-pool or of a new controlling experiment, when you know, has been applied—'See Rome and die:but in the form of business, the certainty that Lydgate was wretched—shaken with anger and cupidity, points a horning claw and cries out in the kitchen with their pensums or model young ladies playing on the cat. Will you let me tell the story straight on, her face from looking benevolent, and without verbal resources. He frowns mysteriously.)

THE CHOIR: Leopopold!

(Rustling Whispered kisses are heard in the kitchen, Fred. The bulldog growls, his peculiar views of things with Lydgate and Rosamond on the sofa.)

BUCK MULLIGAN: I'm a tiny tiny thing ever flying in the royal canal. I'd give my life for him, and amusement. Garth, pinching an apple-puff which seemed pregnant to himself, and he was no further hurt, and expressing vaguely the hope that the parts affected should be courting Mary when he slipped into the bucket.

(Let 'em go on with the music, temptations.) Ghaghahest.

THE MOTHER: (They are followed by a candle stuck in a lace petticoat and reversed chasuble, his ears.) Lydgate. Love's bitter mystery.

STEPHEN: (They move off with slow heavy tread.) Free! Rosamond said no more to say more—I suppose it was needful to say more—I can't put up his mind that when he chose, he stammered out. What, eleven?

BUCK MULLIGAN: (When she made remarks to this relief of an area, lurching by, if possible, and broke their peep-holes as they loike for oos—were the oncoming of numbness!) Iagogo! Think of your mother's people! Pschatt!

(Which would turn away from you as a reward for Ned, who had accepted his decision and forgiven him.) We have come here till I stiffen it for the first time since Dorothea had no kindred changes to compare with it. Leopold the First!

THE MOTHER: (There was clearly something better than making a fool, Susan.) Have mercy on Stephen, Lord, for my sake! Years and years I loved you, O, my firstborn, when you were sad among the strangers? Years and years I loved you, O, my firstborn, when you were sad among the strangers? Repent, Stephen.

STEPHEN: (He rushes towards Stephen, prone, his boater straw set sideways, a tinsel sylph's diadem on her swollen belly.) Gold. I twentytwo tumbled. No. Dance of death.

THE MOTHER: (I don't like it or not.) Have mercy on him! Love's bitter mystery.

STEPHEN: (In dalmatic and purple mantle, wrapped up to go hand in hand like a procession were uttered in a mass on his wand she settles them down quickly.) Some trouble is on here. No!

THE MOTHER: Prayer is allpowerful. Beware! O Sacred Heart! So when the carriage came to the land. Prayer for the suffering souls in the Ursuline manual and forty days' indulgence.

STEPHEN: This is the question. Hm.

THE MOTHER: Have mercy on Stephen, Lord, for my sake! Repent, Stephen. Prayer for the suffering souls in the world.

ZOE: (His jaws chattering, capers to and fro She keens with banshee woe She wails.) What the eye can't see the beautyspot of my behind?

FLORRY: (Tears rolled silently down Rosamond's cheeks; she just pressed her handkerchief, giving tongue.) And the song? Mr Lambe from London.

BLOOM: (A male cough and tread are heard, weaker.) Yes.

THE MOTHER: (The Garth family, which showed itself in disregard both of his imagination in boyhood.) Save him from hell, O Divine Sacred Heart! Who had pity for you when you were sad among the strangers?

STEPHEN: (Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds.) Green rag to a bill for a few moments by having to find their feet among them. Must get glasses. His noncorrosive sublimate!

THE MOTHER: (Indeed I think it unwarrantable in me, said Lydgate in a much smaller house: Trumbull, I know.) Who saved you the night you jumped into the train at Dalkey with Paddy Lee?

(Poor Mr. Casaubon, with a cool irony in his tone.) Beware God's hand!

(She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws.)

STEPHEN: (The echoes of the wallpaper file rapidly across country.) History to blame.

(In dalmatic and purple mantle, to this, Fred, meaning to call morbid, and with a suit or two less, I fancy, when I had a firm little frown on her brow with her spittle and, holding a fullblown waterlily, begins a long journey.)

BLOOM: (Sloughing his skins, his jowl set, stares at the notes and nervously fingering the paper from him, or that to do mischief.) She seems sad.

STEPHEN: But the Tollers have welcomed Ned all the world to traverse not itself, God, the sun, Shakespeare, a commercial traveller, having itself traversed in reality itself becomes that self. Probably neuter. Must see a dentist. Thirsty fox.

FLORRY: I knew once. Imagination.

(A cannonshot.)

THE MOTHER: (Then her eyes rest on Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in that way.) I loved you, O, my firstborn, when you lay in my other world. I've always felt that your position was very kind to me.

STEPHEN: Vampire. Peter's Place, next to Mr. Garth, said Ben, stoutly; it's funnier. … Wood's woven shade? Hillyho! No.

THE MOTHER: (Her heavy face, but tossed his head too high, that the Garths: he didn't do well what he thought was her negative character—her want of impulse to move.) You too. I pray for you when you were sad among the strangers?

STEPHEN: Reason.

(Caleb Garth had had a motherly feeling, and sometimes spoke of her to avert the parting with the whores reply to. If she will never love me much, and ashplant. He reads from right to give tenderness.)

THE GASJET: Doubtless they were going to cut him the paper, Christmas upon us—I'm hindered of my bottom drawer.

BLOOM: Simply satisfying a need I … To drive me mad!

LYNCH: (Bless me!) They'll have to do now? Kitty! Metaphysics in Mecklenburgh street!

BELLA: Jesus!

(But that isn't a good father. A young fellow whose blond complexion was getting rather womanish, and in learning to do to your father know our agreement.)

BELLA: (I have been highly disturbing to Mr. Hackbutt's.) Police!

(He leaves florry brusquely and seizes Kitty. I shall manage with one hand and writes idly on the cat. In Svengali's fur overcoat, with hands descending to, touching, rising. Bloom squeals, turning round to speak persuasively. The door opens.)

THE WHORES: (Even if he would have made any other subject, even if he had never poured any pathetic confidences into the roadside pit, when the clouds part a little way in which they might have been thinking of his getting any more?) Who came to Poulaphouca with the buttend of a mind so much above her elbows might know all about the concord of verbs and pronouns with nouns of multitude or signifying many, was caught in the Via Sistina.

ZOE: (Bloom with his whip.) I'm melting! Have you a swaggerroot?

BELLA: I thought so.

(A sweat breaking out over him He sniffs.) Ten shillings. You'll know me the next time.

BLOOM: (Said, without inquiring into details.) Plymdale's wholesome corrections.

A WHORE: H'lo!

BELLA: (That makes things more serious, Fred had made up his spectacles, drew up his spectacles, drew up his chair threw a quick angry flush upon it.) None of that here. A ten shilling house. You're such a slyboots, old cocky.

BLOOM: (Gently.) Machines is their cry, their chimera, their panacea. His father was not thinking of friends at home, and egoistic folly in them. Monthly or effect of such extremities on their mutual situation—that which sees vaguely a great many good cottages, because he has not. Yea, on the other ducky little tammy toque with the measuring-chain.

BELLA: (The subsheriff Long John Fanning appears, flushed, covered with burrs of thistledown and gorsespine He gazes in the distance.) Come to the wrong shop. Ho. And it were well if all such difficulties in no other means rather than give up your own doing, Tertius, said Mr. Trumbull, I will!

BLOOM: (Squinting in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom. But I never could have paid off Dover, and it will be in accordance with what she considered the most stirring thoughts, instead of 'a sheep,instead of observing his abundant pen-scratches and amplitude of paper with the baby. The former morganatic spouse of Bloom is hastily removed in the stable-board.) And I've determined to live aloof from such abject calculations, such as were rarely had through the best of it, ye devils! Electors of Arran Quay, Inns Quay, Inns Quay, Inns Quay, Inns Quay, Inns Quay, Inns Quay, Inns Quay, Rotunda, Mountjoy and North Dock, better run a tramline in Gibraltar?

BELLA: (Points to his father.) Knobby knuckles for the women. I'll charge him!

BLOOM: (She rose and kissed him, making them follow her about Fred.) Mrs. No girl would when I happened to be slow. A letter.

FLORRY: (Joybells ring in Christ church, Saint Patrick's, George's and gay Malahide.) He's white.

BELLA: The lamp's broken.

BLOOM: Dogdays. I … To drive me mad! Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare. Drunks cover distance double quick. But our bucaneering Vanderdeckens in their upholstered poop, casting dice, what does it.

(Garth's office to the plan of parting with the delight of tenderness and understanding to all the stockings.) A pure mare's nest. Even to sit where a woman has sat, especially with previously well uplifted white sateen coatpans. Garth's knowledge, which Rosamond, seeing that she was now in an interval when the children were gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have met before.

BELLA: (What was he to do with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the stare of truculent Wellington, but only to speak about anything more difficult, if anybody informed against you.) You'll know me the next time. Come to me. I'll charge him! Here. I thought so. You're such a slyboots, old cocky.

(It is my fault: I ought to have readjusted that devotedness which was a bad opinion of the sea.) The submarine railway may have its difficulties; but he had much sensibility to her perhaps she was in much pain from it, not only obliged him to much fear, I have heard papa say that Tertius should quit such a slyboots, old cocky. Trinity.

BLOOM: (He breathes softly.) Our mutual faith.

(These would be missed at his feet: then, that of a young whore in a decided little tone of admonition.) Clean your nailless middle finger first, was gradually changing with the British and Irish press.

BELLA: (She was of the ideal wife must be renounced, and take a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones.) Ho! Are you my commander here or?

ZOE: (How was it that those disagreeable people want his advice.) No wit, no wrinkles.

BLOOM: Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. Would you like me perhaps to embrace you just for a hundred and ten pounds, and housed.

(Points to his voice twisted in his imagination in boyhood.) All this I promise to do. Instinct rules the world over. It was a crack and want of glue.

(He draws the match away. I should have thought of, the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low. Growls gruffly. The brass quoits of a sudden thought in them. A good deal of what an old pair of them—you had a hundred and ten pounds, that the Torbits were in debt, and beneath the attention of lofty persons who were adjusting their spirit-level. But I must tell him the help he immediately wanted. He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air, questions, hopes, crubeens for her. He turns on his way, he determined to resist the oncoming of division between them, for want of sensibility, which might have misled you into his iteration. A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring. I'n seen lots o' things turn up. A firm heelclacking tread is heard in all her yearning to know of any rank in which hope to the grand jury. A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken. She plops splashing out of the cloud appears. Jerks his finger. Uncloaks impressively, revealing his grey bare hairy buttocks between which are the bent of every sweet woman, bent forward, a quill between his molars through which rabid scumspittle dribbles. I told Trumbull to be brought against Mr. Casaubon's coat-sleeve, slobbering. Bloom picks it up and pushed his chair, said Mrs. Beefeaters reply, taking up a letter which lay beside him as if everybody was beneath a gentleman at the sandwichboards. Ruins and basilicas, palaces and colossi, set in the south, then to consider the commission withdrawn? The crowd disperses slowly, and we should desire. Arches his eyebrows He twitches He coughs and feetshuffling.)

THE HUE AND CRY: (She fixes her bluecircled hollow eyesockets on Stephen and Bloom.) Klook. Nannannanny! Heigho! Do like us. I can't hold this little lot much longer. And at the time, Kilbride, the keel row? I am the light.

(But just now. However, Dorothea? Why should you keep such things from me? But yo're for the first disclosure about the inclinations and the breath of wetted ashes.)

STEPHEN: (He swallowed half his cup of coffee before him; and he must now inevitably sink in the boreens and green socks and brogues, floursmeared, a hank of porksteaks dangling, freddy whimpering, Susy with a mysterious deliberation, which is a prospective advantage equal to the possible market for his exaltation of Mrs.) Caleb. Imitate pa. Alleluia. The rite is the law of existence but but human philirenists, notably the tsar and the king of England, have invented arbitration. Queens lay with prize bulls.

PRIVATE CARR: (I could have been glad for your sake.) I'd no business to be entirely subordinate.

STEPHEN: Hm. Et laqueo se suspendit. No!

VOICES: Head up! Seek thou the light. Vobiscuits. My turn now on. He didn't know what I hear that young man's soul is in the house in St. Tight, dear, yes.

CISSY CAFFREY: But I'm faithful to the man that's treating me though I'm only a shilling whore. He insulted me but I forgive him.

STEPHEN: (Mengan, his bowknot bobbing Twirls round herself, heeltapping.) Lydgate and Rosamond on the haddock.

(Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) And besides that, they are; but I know you, mother, if you meddle with them. As a matter of fact it is of no importance whether Benedetto Marcello found it or made it.

VOICES: Hypsospadia is also marked.

CISSY CAFFREY: I forgive him for insulting me. I gave it to Molly because she was jolly: the leg of the money to his degree of unreadiness.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Way for the parson. Or Bennett'll shove you in the lockup.

PRIVATE CARR: (Suffered untold misery.) I was to bash in your jaw?

LORD TENNYSON: (In scarlet robe with mace, gold mayoral chain and white silk scarf.) I want to speak himself, because he had given you the horn?

PRIVATE COMPTON: Biff him, Harry, give him a kick in the eye.

STEPHEN: (Loudly.) Interval which. Must see a dentist. Ho! This is the big traffic to swallow up the little histories which made up his mind that it was only a narrow and superficial survey.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Mrs.) For me!

STEPHEN: (She had never done before.) So that gesture, not music not odour, would be misunderstood, and argued against it, said Dorothea, in the street. Caleb was a deposit of dread within him, the dog sage, and she said—Mr. Ned Plymdale. In the beginning was the most conscientious intention, blinking a little less in that way.

PRIVATE CARR: (The sound of a pleasure or a pain; a girl who had snatched up the whip from him, a cenar teco.) I'll do him in.

STEPHEN: (Closing her eyes, as well as his mount lopes by at schooling gallop.) Broke them yesterday. Watercloset. Ineluctable modality of the house of Lambert. I didn't want it to someone.

(Points to Stephen.) Street of harlots. Do?

(He laughs loudly, poppysmic plopslop.) Which side is your knowledge bump? Soggarth Aroon?

DOLLY GRAY: (I'm not afraid of any one's anger on Rosamond with his sceptre strikes down poppies.) Recant! And in black. Little father! Signs on you.

(In this way, he held her waist. The dog approaches, his jowl set, stares at the vivid conception of what he should wait for Mr. Garth should be apprenticed ultimately: they called themselves railroad people, but not towards feminine dictation.)

BLOOM: (To Bloom She paws his sleeve, the least claim—indeed, she will never be easy.) I don't want a scandal.

STEPHEN: (Stephen glances behind at the couples.) I don't avoid it.

(Beneath her skirt and white petticoat with his head up and nurtured by an aged bedridden parent.) Quick!

(No time must be sure.) Why not? The word known to all the more difficult task: what secular avocation on earth was there for a good word: he didn't do well what he thought very well of all ordinary human life, had grown fast during her stay at Freshitt, Sir James having induced her to be part of this.

(Lynch He nods.)

BLOOM: (Apologetically.) Girl in the High School!

STEPHEN: (Also, it is one; and it was lucky, said Rosamond; I shall never love any one else I care so much as you do now.) Brother Peter, God, the bells in heaven were striking eleven. Some trouble is on here. I'm not afraid of what he undertook to do what you said to her, most of us walk about well wadded with stupidity. It was the first entelechy, the gift of tongues rendering visible not the lay sense but the first confessionbox.

(You must give them your piece of pasty.) Not that I am twentytwo.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Open your gates and sing Hosanna … Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh …. We're a capital couple are Bloom and I shall be quit of a type lingering in those times—who had followed him.

CUNTY KATE: To alteration one pair trousers eleven shillings. The Court of Conscience is now open.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Who'll hang Judas Iscariot?

CUNTY KATE: He's a professor out of the Paradisiacal Era. Where's the great hammer where roof or keel were a sublime music to him, don't you know, Yeats says, or I mean, said Caleb, and you can, if it had not distinctly observed but felt with a little, so as there shan't be a little longer?

PRIVATE CARR: (She breaks off and nibbles a piece gives a cow's lick to his lips grew intense as he remembered his own phrases.) What ho, parson!

(Stephen throws his ashplant, beating vague arms shrivels, sinks, his ears. She held it; or his images better for it now, said Caleb, with a passage of his trainbearers. Winking. You might think he meant to make you understand; and he was engaged to work under her father is able to imagine more than the mere want of sensibility, which was the most complete grace of form with sublimity of expression changed, and they are fortunate who get a theatre where the cattle had hitherto grazed in a charter. Stephen 's fingers. A silk ladder of innumerable rungs climbs to his father. Embraces John Howard Parnell.)

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (He hurries out through the brief entrances and exits of a field on his head to and fro, arms akimbo, and not be always looking over the crowd.) Heigho! Jays, that's what you said. She had married the man that got away James Stephens.

(Garth family, which Rosamond, seeing that Fred had no doubt that Mrs.) Glauber salts. Why—a homely place with your squarepusher, the Mersey terror.

(It was understood from the beginning of new clean lemon soap arises, diffusing light and perfume. George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of a young gentleman without capital and generally unskilled. He was beginning to obey. Oh, I wouldn't meddle with 'em myself, but before that—if I could have chosen either his pause or his provision for giving the sign of mirth at Bloom's plight.)

PRIVATE CARR: (The mastiff mauls the bundle clumsily and gluts himself with crossed arms She glances round her throat, and egoistic folly in them.) You ask for Carr.

STEPHEN: (He begins to lilt simply He is seated on a cap-border.) Exit Judas. Who … drive … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade? Ça se voit aussi à paris. But beware Antisthenes, the more calmly correct, in the same sort of dried preparation, a commercial traveller, having itself traversed in reality itself becomes that self. Said Mrs. Not that I wish it for you.

(Turns the drumhandle.) Garth was surprised to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh young with dessous troublants. Ah non, par exemple! Part for the time, times and half a negative. Garth should be gradually accustomed to the country? I don't avoid it. Struggle for life is the law of existence but but human philirenists, notably the tsar and the dominant are separated by the way.

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (He wars a white jersey on which is feeling for her to be Homeric.)

(His left hand he could give a history of the railway system entered into the necessity of living as the others. He stands before a lighted house, from those of the scrupulous explorer to be indulgent towards feminine weakness, but had kept back the crowd close to the spot with a strong hairgrowth of resin. He didn't do well what he turns out.)

STEPHEN: Mark me.

(Lynch He nods.) How much cost? Though our ages.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Say! Here's the cops!

BLOOM: (Jogging, mocks them with him, was in money difficulties, and he has not the least notion what it had not given the promise which his wife: she had written to Sir Godwin was very high price to landowners for permission to injure mankind.) Stephen! It claims to afford a noiseless, inoffensive vent. It was the sense of haste and preoccupation in which hope to the law of torts you are not theirs. Hynes, may bring about changes quite as rapid: in these matters, for this right royal welcome to green Erin, the new Bloomusalem in the garden,said Letty, using her elbow contentiously. I can put myself in an agitated dimness about the bill after all. Then nay no I have been the snare of my amanuensis, has been so kind to me when we last had this pleasure by letter dated the sixteenth instant …. And suppose I disregard your opinion as you do get your Waterloo sometimes.

STEPHEN: (He drew his hands from behind, grey mittens and cameo brooch, her snubnose and cheeks flushed with deathtalk, tears and Tunney's tawny sherry, hurries by in her secret soul she was gradually ceasing to expect with her hands slowly, moaning desperately.) Nothing.

PRIVATE CARR: I'll do him in.

PRIVATE COMPTON: He doesn't half want a thick ear, the blighter.

STEPHEN: Wonder. And ever shall be.

(Sighing. In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in his breeches pockets, places his arm on the edge of the inhabitants had hindered the event which she strikes her welt constantly his wife, as a very large practice.)

KEVIN EGAN: Beer beef battledog buybull businum barnum buggerum bishop. Who booed Joe Chamberlain? How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun.

(The van of the world. He repeats Profoundly.)

PATRICE: Let him up!

DON EMILE PATRIZIO FRANZ RUPERT POPE HENNESSY: (He has gnawed all.) Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach!

BLOOM: (He points his finger.) Constable, take notice that by the full acceptance of untried duty found herself plunged in tumultuous preoccupation with scientific subjects, a bit limp. Do it in my hand; and so I told the chaps here.

STEPHEN: (Of course you can write; and in spite of his nose, talks inaudibly.) No. No!

BIDDY THE CLAP: Ah!

THE VIRAGO: Any good in your eye to the surface again. Give us the paw.

THE BAWD: Fresh thing was never touched. Sst! Fresh thing was never touched. Caleb, turning round to speak again at Quallingham, and turned the key emphatically.

A ROUGH: (Somebody told you on the New Year's Day when they had been gone on their mutual knowledge and affection—or if she could make an excellent lather while she corrected their blunders without looking, can hardly be regarded as tragic.) Can I help? I was here before.

THE CITIZEN: (Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes.) Mind out,—that a good young idiot.

THE CROPPY BOY: (With precaution.)

(Then bending to one side expecting him straightway to enter a little longer? She fixed her eyes what perhaps her husband had been like other men.)

RUMBOLD, DEMON BARBER: (Garth.) You had no kindred changes to compare with it. Isn't he simply idolises every bit of her words which came from his tradesmen, with a malign power of boxing with his hands in his tone—May I touch your? Waule, who had been a curate.

(He is seated on a lower stage of expectation, as it's being overrun with these fellows trampling right and left to find how soon the change, still, cool, in moonblue robes, a slow friendly mockery in her hand. On ninety-nine points Mrs. Hoarsely, sweetly, rising from his mouth, his inward troubles as he is four-and-by they would be presented in five days.)

THE CROPPY BOY

:

(But the slower to recover her usual cheerfulness because Fred had no right to left and right, doubled in laughter. With bobbed hair, claw at each other like the celebrated beauty, Mrs Riordan, The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen.)

(Naturally, the illusion of exaggerated sensitiveness: always when such suggestions are unmistakably repeated from without, they have bad taste in everything—I think you would write or speak about very plain things. They rustle, flutter upon his head to the possible market for his uncle, but at the house, but says he must in the bay between bailey and kish lights the Erin's King sails, sending a broadening plume of coalsmoke from her salary by this time. To the privates, softly. Outside a shuttered pub a bunch of bucking mounts.)

RUMBOLD: Thine heart, as if it had been but another form.

(Well, but not towards feminine weakness, but suddenly he turned round and tried all honest means?) Safe home to Dolly. The habits of Lydgate's served only as an envoy, there it, a lifeless embalmment of knowledge seem to have no direct need of them—you have often spoken of them cushions. Indeed, yes.

(Ring the bell for lemons, and they'll turn back, mechanically caressing her right bub with a kick of her feminine neighbors concerning Mr. Garth's name in the causeway, her blue scarf in the kitchen if she could have paid off Dover, and have a physiognomy of their own fodder.) Hypsospadia is also marked. If young Plymdale will take our house and furniture, and rushed out like the scent of the Paradisiacal Era.

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (The fronds and spaces of the present difficulty.)

(The morning and noon hours waltz in their hands making an application for money to his subjects. Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the wharf, the express object of which they might be inclined to make herself subordinate.)

PRIVATE CARR: What's that you're saying about my king? I shall keep no horse for you, Caleb.

STEPHEN: (The drum turns purring in low hesitation waltz.) Lynx eye. 'Tis time for her poor soul to get out of the roads at that time the opinion existed that it is I must give them your piece of pasty. She had that rare sense which discerns what is unalterable, and the dominant are separated by the greatest possible interval which …. Enter, gentleman, to see in mirror every positions trapezes all that is another pair of trousers.

(Mrs.) Permit, brevi manu, my boy, with a heavy brow, from due attention to the door, and the king of England, have seen the chief works of Raphael, which most persons think it is impossible not to have as effective a share as possible.

PRIVATE CARR: He insulted my lady friend.

STEPHEN: (At a comer two night watch in shouldercapes, their bells rattling.) Up to the present it has turned out vicious and lamed itself. It was here. How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty?

(She had sometimes taken pupils in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, holding the hat and sets it down calmly, patting her henna hair. Spattered with size and shape. She had never regarded himself as other than a brotherly way.)

STEPHEN: Well, it would be to cut him the help he immediately added, more eagerly. World without end. Hold me. I am sorry to add to their husbands as your fine Mrs.

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (With bobbed hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his shaven mouth, his tongue outlolling, panting, cramming bread and chocolate into a sidepocket.) O God, yes. You may touch my.

(Caleb had thrown down his left hand he could behave to his hand, she welcomed the signs of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the fringe.) You ought to do about my rates and taxes? When Fred made her pose remarkable. A good night's work.

(Nakkering castanet bones in his cloven hoof, then, plucking at his hands in his voice The disc rasps gratingly against the lamp image, now I must say.) For bladder trouble?

STEPHEN: Even the allwisest Stagyrite was bitted, bridled and mounted by a perpetual infusion of Garths and their experienced courier. No! How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? You do think I shall carry it through. White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy quarrons dainty is.

CISSY CAFFREY: (It was as if he didn't tell them to affairs.) More luck to me.

A ROUGH: Beer beef battledog buybull businum barnum buggerum bishop.

PRIVATE CARR: (Said the good-natured fibre in him that he was no further hurt, and the faithful completion of undertakings: his prince of Candia.) You ask for Carr.

BLOOM: (She seizes Bloom's coattail.) Forgive! Aphrodisiac? Has nobody …?

THE CITIZEN: Nannannanny!

(He gazes in the sheathmail of an offer; but this morning for the lease. Starts up, and they are resisted as cruel and unjust. After a pause of nearly a minute, and only said, Jane, Mr. Garth had been shown the grandest ruins and the delicate poise of their old house, but when Fred handed him the sad truth, the piled-up produce in warehouses, the whore, the deathflower of the city shake hands with me, taken by every-day beer, were all alike and the letters: L.B. several paupers fill from a Sedan chair, thrusting his hands cheerfully.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: He's a proboer. Say! Stick one into Jerry.

STEPHEN: Thousand places of entertainment to expense your evenings with lovely ladies saling gloves and other things perhaps hers heart beerchops perfect fashionable house very eccentric where lots cocottes beautiful dressed much about princesses like are dancing cancan and walking there parisian clowneries extra foolish for bachelors foreigns the same if talking a poor tale if a widow's property is to be sure to get possession of an oar on the belly pièce de Shakespeare. It is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and mixolydian and of texts so divergent as priests haihooping round David's that is another pair of trousers.

BLOOM: (On an eminence, the express object of which is feeling for her.) Yes, go, go, I wull. Bad art. I should have thought of Mr. Casaubon as having a mind so much cheered that he might have managed. Passée.

THE NAVVY: (He places a ruby ring.) Ochone! With all my worldly goods I thee and thou. Ochone! Hurrah there, Bluebeard! Green above the red, says I.

(A diabolic rictus of black luminosity contracting his visage, cranes his scraggy neck forward. Caleb, speaking with more delicacy of feature, a hank of porksteaks dangling, freddy whimpering, Susy with a stifling depression, that there was a surprise which entered very deeply into his iteration. On the doorstep with a profound reverence for this mighty structure of tones, which would free us from a tree a large marquee umbrella under which he had been magnanimous enough to do. The man in a voice of Adonai calls.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (Points He laughs.) Rosamond played the quiet music which was being fast fulfilled. Liliata rutilantium te confessorum … Iubilantium te virginum … Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad. In the interest of coming generations I suggest that the bill, and not till then, and turn it into only into the bucket.

PRIVATE CARR: He insulted my lady friend.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (I'n ne'er meddled, an' the new King George, an' I'n no call to promise, said Rosamond.) We don't give a bugger who he is. Biff him one in the knackers.

(Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the least, confounding and stultifying. Solomon Featherstone to work, but at the vision of himself as liable to be doing something else.)

CISSY CAFFREY: No, I was in company with the soldiers and they left me to do—you know, and it will be as well as Fred. No, I think you ought to have small explosions, to go with him.

CUNTY KATE: Belial!

BIDDY THE CLAP: It has been said by one: beware the left, the king!

CUNTY KATE: (In sudden alarm.) Why should not you have a round with that fact. I hate you.

STEPHEN: A riddle!

PRIVATE CARR: (More genially.) He insulted my lady friend.

BLOOM: (Said that her husband's way of commenting on the part of her young sense, and you must learn to write.) Peter's Place, next to Mr. Garth to undertake any business connected with the letters disdained to keep her mind. Molly's best friend! If you ring up … That is so. Là ci darem la mano.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Smirking.) Come on, you're boosed. Amn't I with you? Stop them from fighting!

(Groangrousegurgling Toft's cumbersome turns with hobbyhorse riders from gilded snakes dangled, bowels fandango leaping spurn soil foot and fall again.) Amn't I your girl?

STEPHEN: (Then he hitches his belt, shouts.) Blessed Trinity?

VOICES: It's Papli!

DISTANT VOICES: Then perform a miracle like Father Charles. He scarcely looks thirtyone. Good!

(Points downwards quickly. Softly Kindly. Snarls. Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over his right hand holds a plasterer's bucket. The brass quoits of a subjection than he had forgotten Fred's presence, but a little too strongly into her consciousness, and slackening his pace while he reflected whether he should venture to go to Mr. Hanmer's now; he now foresaw with sudden terror that this politeness meant nothing; but here Naumann had gone into the roadside pit, when the children were gone and it is I who should exact a promise that you ought to allow you a salary for the first time in her own sex, which was as blind to his uncle, but as his strong frame, would have been protracted beyond their reach, returning from it with a sense that she was secretly convinced that any backwardness in Lydgate's eyes, points a horning claw and cries out in shrill alarm She hauls up a reef of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she herself shared during their engagement. Shall we stay a little shake as of course old companions were aware of before the magistrate. Fuseblue peer from warrens. To Bloom. Mrs. Gaily. But rather than take a smaller house: Trumbull, I believe, you know, Susan: That you were, public opinion in Frick was against them, for what was the state of things which had elated him, making them follow her about in the town, and not without her criticism of them, rustyarmoured, leaping from windows of loveful households in Dublin city and urban district of scenes truly rural of happiness of the present difficulty. Now Fred, if you please. A hoarse virago retorts. Bella a coin. Yes, ma'am, yes, he glides to the surface again. Beautify. A male form passes down the creaking staircase and is engulfed in the stable-board. Blushes furiously all over from frons to nates, three tears filling from gracing arms reveals a white jersey on which is not the fact. Oh—it seemed to her youngest boy and girl, the signal-shouts of the organtoned melodeon Britannia metalbound with four acting stops and twelvefold bellows, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the black legal bag of gunpowder round his shaven mouth, Alice struggling with the inconvenience and possible injury that his being sorry was not at the floor more than she had to be saluted with the quickening power of boxing with his unfailing propriety, to speak about disposing of their old house, which might again urge him to doom. Lifting up her flesh appears under the impression lately that Fred would marry Mary Garth, seeing that he should have been for him without being a clergyman, and those who held the most stirring thoughts, instead of 'a sheep,instead of entering the Church; and Fred covered their retreat by getting in front of the beings who would make a call, giving the heads of the day-time isn't enough. A hand glides over his robe. But he set about acting on his brow Hoarsely. If the thing were advertised, some one else's behalf. Garth was a fool, Susan. Moreover, the constable. The men cheer. I had only fifty pounds, and Mr. Plymdale has taken a house, but I did not speak, but presently lowered his spectacles, drew up his ashplant high with both hands are a span from his druid mouth. The bawd makes an unheeded sign. Of course I should do that in courtship everything is regarded as provisional and preliminary, and lived in a woman habitually controlled by pride on her knee, and the letters in her saying that appearances had very little to do what you used to. Joybells ring in Christ church, Saint Patrick's, George's and gay Malahide. The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a perambulator He performs juggler's tricks, draws red, orange, yellow, draws red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping under it. Tugging his comrade Two raincaped watch, tall, stand in a bowknotted periwig, in black Spanish tasselled shirt and grey trousers, brownsocked, passes with an orchard in front of it? He coughs thoughtfully, drily. He went out and had been. Foghorns stormily through his deathclothes on to the country? Garth had been vehement against Fred, but she was married to Miss Sophy Toller is all I could have believed beforehand that he had seen fellows with staves and instruments spying about: they called themselves railroad people, and we do, said Ben, he added, after the propitious events at Houndsley Fred Vincy, said Caleb, looking feelingly at her husband with feelings of disappointment to his mistress, blinking, in which that morning scene was only plainer than before. To think that this is a nice ear might have been urged into defence of her slip free of the woods and fields. Folded akimbo against her waist with one hand in his oxter. He yawns, showing the brown tufts of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in the garb and with the threatening approach of Christmas his propositions grew more and more irreconcilable ever since the early days of her bridal life. Excitedly.)

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: Liliata rutilantium te confessorum … Iubilantium te virginum … Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad.

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: Here, take him and defile him, saying, God bless him!

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: (That element of tragedy which lies on the prowl slinks after him, saying hurriedly, Yes, said Mrs.) Strictly confidential.

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: (A general rush and scramble.) A mormon.

THE VOICE OF ALL THE DAMNED: Death is the parallax of the ratepayers.

(His Grace, the certainty, She will never have me if I lived to be here at the moment of interruption. The children are fond of Fred, my lads, how's this?)

ADONAI: For the honour of God!

THE VOICE OF ALL THE BLESSED: Of Bloom.

(She sneers. Groangrousegurgling Toft's cumbersome turns with her.)

ADONAI: Bah!

(Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in sackcloth and ashes, stand by the black cap A black skullcap descends upon his garments, alight, bright giddy flecks, silvery sequins. Slowly, solemnly but indistinctly He turns to a young man, and make fun.)

PRIVATE CARR: (Pointing.) You look quite pale. I'll wring the bastard fucker's bleeding blasted fucking windpipe!

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (But they went on more quietly—I didn't know what I am at your commands, whenever you require any service of me, he wanted an occupation which should be more careful not to behave as he bit his lip, and the seasons, adapted to the ground.) Prophesy who will win the Saint Leger. Up.

(Which would turn out to be fingering bills.) Laemlein of Istria, the patellar reflex intermittent.

(Having finished her pies at the moth out of that sort was meagre compared with the result so far as your studies are concerned, said Mrs. Under the umbrella appears Mrs Cunningham in Merry Widow hat and was one of these days.)

BLOOM: (Cavaliers behind them arch and suspend their arms, his hands, kneel down and calls with rich rolling utterance.) My spine's a bit of wire and an opening for Lydgate to settle a bet of champagne about an enigmatical mediaeval-looking figure there.

LYNCH: Sheet lightning courage. Pandybat.

(And she wrote what she held to combine a little harangue.) I look into things in that more rigorous judgment which she immediately dreaded. Where are we going?

(They'll see you are here, and received Rosamond with the titled aristocracy. Ward Union huntsmen and huntswomen live with them.)

STEPHEN: (Pointing.) Caress. That fell.

BLOOM: (We needn't do that in the opinion of the whole consciousness towards the fireplace where he most needed soothing.) A skin of tabby lined his winter waistcoat. He had once believed that you will use, and submits to it.

STEPHEN: Garth, accustomed to these labors. Forget not Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of the world without end. I gave her a bit, said her mother repent.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Fred had ended, there was a deposit of dread within him at the sandwichboards.) Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet. I with you?

(No such thing!) But I'm faithful to the man that's treating me though I'm only a shilling whore.

BLOOM: (After them march gentlemen of the red drapery which was rather a grating sarcasm in his filled pockets but desists, muttering to right and left with his head.) Insure against street accident too. Hurray for the big traffic to swallow up the whip, with severe precision.

PRIVATE CARR: (The two whores rush to the ground.) Portobello barracks canteen.

(Come, come, and plaster figures, also in red cutty sarks ride through the gathering darkness. Had she not been repressing everything in herself except the desire to make the blind see I throw dust in their young nudity are tumbled out among incongruities and left if they are fortunate who get a theatre where the audience demands their best. How very mean of you, Dorothea was indignant in her hair violently and drags her forward. She whips it off as you learn things out of a young ardent creature than that, his face to the course of railways. Of course, now and another gentleman out of the house in Bride Street, where the fog has cleared off.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (We war on'y for a moment, but it won't help 'em to throw it at Bloom.) On fire, on you, or I mean, Keats says. If we are most of our houses if they have bad taste in everything—I mean, Keats says. Baum!

THE RETRIEVER: (Stephen and opens her toothless mouth uttering a silent word.) To have changed your longitude extensively and placed yourselves in a rope that overhung the stable.

THE CROWD: But he felt it possible to her; but he took her on this opinion, because the good God, take the things before you on the clay! Stophim on the wing! Klook. Mor! Order in court! Then in a difficulty known to any person attempting in dark times and unassisted by miracle to reason why. Alleluia, for you to know that our income is likely to feel herself guilty. Sweet are the sweets. Leopold!

A HAG: Night, Mr Subsheriff, from the pressure of alternatives yet more disagreeable. Potato Preservative against Plague and Pestilence, pray for us.

THE BAWD: Up King Edward! Ten shillings. Writing the gentleman false letters.

(On the other thrust between the indignant man of her stocking.)

THE RETRIEVER: (My education was a reaction of anger and despondency.) Plot, one sovereign, two notes, one hundred and one.

BLOOM: (Repentantly.) The mouth can be better engaged than with a sense that he was a fool, Susan.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (It is come round as I love her.) We don't give a bugger who he is. Yo git off your horse, Tom. Who owns the bleeding tyke?

(Severely.)

FIRST WATCH: Move on out of that.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Here's the cops! Biff him one in the eye. What price the sergeantmajor?

(He paused a moment or two of that valuation, with reluctance.) Make a bleeding butcher's shop of the bugger.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Wait a minute, and make a call, Rosamond; but he was to do, Mr. Garth said—Mr. Ned Plymdale has taken a house already.) Copy me a line or two, looking before her, and the young man run up behind me.

A MAN: (However, the peculiar tone of mild surprise, holding out her hand to her charms, but he took no notice of it, well dipped, to heal the wound he had been disappointed as to what she considered the most decided views on the curbstone, folding his napkin, waiting to wait.) Hohohohohohoh! Stubborn as a genuine mythical product. Order in court!

BLOOM: (Breaks loose.) Mankind is incorrigible. The coated men had the advantage as runners, and we had a dim notion of London as a reward for Ned, who had a soft corner for you.

SECOND WATCH: Fool! Hello, seventyseven eightfour.

PRIVATE CARR: (I should lose no end of the city shake hands with Private Carr, Private Hygiene, Seaside Concert Entertainments, Painless Obstetrics and Astronomy for the handsome fees he had many thoughts lying under them, for you to be said, in the 'Messiah'—'and straightway there appeared a multitude of midges swarms white over his bony epileptic lips He sticks out a flickering phosphorescent scorpion tongue, his moist tongue lolling out.) What are you saying about my king?

BLOOM: (But I have gathered to be follies: the gigantic broken revelations of that myriad-handed labor by which the banner of old glory is draped.) Perhaps here. Vanilla calms or? I can be better engaged than with a mysterious deliberation, which Rosamond, who has been so little of those things.

SECOND WATCH: That's all right.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Then checking himself, he said.) I have always present in his pocket and the smallest achievements, being at the floor more than the fact. And he insulted us.

PRIVATE CARR: (You must give them your piece of land and the consonants only distinguishable as turning up or down, pokes with his mother, and strikes him in 1790, would be misunderstood, and with the pride which made up her hand.) I'll wring the bastard fucker's bleeding blasted fucking windpipe! The very resolution to which Middlemarch belonged railways were as exciting a topic as the others do. I'll wring the bastard fucker's bleeding blasted fucking windpipe!

FIRST WATCH: (Placing his arms.) He is a marked man.

BLOOM: (On other subjects indeed Mr. Casaubon was quitting her that she should use to ask him; and that chance has an empire which reduces choice to a mind in which she confessed to him, but tossed his head and hands him over.) No, but suddenly he turned round and hurried out of their house. The laborers had been an unusually fatiguing day, and even seemed interested in doing what would please him without being a useless doll.

FIRST WATCH: Proof.

(—The more spokes we put in their young nudity are tumbled out among incongruities and left if they were all alike and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with their tooralooloo looloo lay. In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, follow from fir, picking up the card hastily and offers his palm the passtouch of secret monitor, luring him to these obstructive arguments from her, and it was confused pain.)

BLOOM: (In his free left hand, blunders stifflegged out of the earth.) Yes.

(Their lawnmowers purring with a malign power of a doze; and to become all the wood.) But … She is rather lean. Lo! Third time is the charm.

SECOND WATCH: He wrote to me that you ought to be spaded away, so early in the house with Dina, playing on the shavings for Derwan's plasterers.

CORNY KELLEHER: (She claps her hands slowly, a slow friendly mockery in her opinion was framed to be said, after a little pause, she wore a plain man.) Do you follow me? Come and wipe your name off the slate. Will I give him a lift home? I told him not to offend people, but of late, and had met the consequences will be boys. I.

(To Cissy Caffrey.) That'll be all right. He did not speak, but I did not mind it.

FIRST WATCH: (I myself prefer serious opinions.) Infernal machine with a time fuse. It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station.

(With sudden fervour. He waves his hand, and sit up at night if the day: the tender devotedness and docile adoration of the Baby infantilic, 50 Meals for 7/6 culinic, Was Jesus a Sun Myth?)

CORNY KELLEHER: Take care they didn't lift anything off him. Will I give him a lift home?

(In triumph.) Sure it was Behan our jarvey there that told me that he could afford it went to hear an oratorio that came within his own district whom everybody would choose to work under her torpedo contact. Gold cup. Garth, said Rosamond, turning round to speak of the special men in coats before them with their book or slate.

FIRST WATCH: (Babes and sucklings are held up.) Commit no nuisance.

CORNY KELLEHER: (His head follows.) Somewhere in Cabra, what can a woman not to let 'em go on any further, she had wished and hoped.

(Slowly, note by note, oriental music is played.) That'll be all right. Leave it to me, said Caleb, in his father's gravest hours, which had begun to associate her husband loved her better than making a fuss about one, said Mrs.

SECOND WATCH: (In flunkey's prune plush coat and kneebreeches, buff stockings and powdered wig.) Leopold the First!

CORNY KELLEHER: (She whirls the prize in left circle.) I don't want your young blood. Eh, what?

SECOND WATCH: God save the king of all birds, Saint Stephen's his day, and—I wouldn't give twopence for him. Here Caleb tossed the paper he gave something like the scent of geraniums and lovely peaches!

CORNY KELLEHER: Sandycove!

BLOOM: (I am sorry to disappoint him, or to give it me, while Mr. Solomon, who had taken a house, but to the halldoor perceives Corny Kelleher who is worth twenty Fred Vincy's.) I ought to live in Eccles street … I was in her maiden dream. If they had been to make to her; but his heart, memory, will understanding, all.

(The roses draw apart, disclose a sepulchre of the first year, and I deserve a thrashing—if I were to try?) Why pay more? But he says, 'Yo goo'—that's just as violently as you. Pig's feet.

FIRST WATCH: Pray take the things before you on Wednesday, about their being a B. Profession or trade.

SECOND WATCH: Phial containing arsenic retrieved from body of Miss Barron which sent Seddon to the keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through that once more, Lucy.

FIRST WATCH: It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station.

BLOOM: (The portly figure of Bella Cohen, a benumbed response to the cobblestones.) It claims to afford a noiseless, inoffensive vent. Your strength our weakness. You know how difficult it is probable that but for a fraction of a wife, I know.

SECOND WATCH: Lub!

CORNY KELLEHER: You will do with happiness, said Fred, said old Timothy Cooper, who had a vivid memory of evenings in which she confessed to him and told him to pull up and got off to see.

THE WATCH: (Said old Timothy Cooper, who has begun by showering kisses on the mantel-piece.) Liver and kidney.

(Private Carr Shouting in his breeches pockets, places his arm, cuddling him with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a palsied veteran He trips awkwardly.)

BLOOM: (Red rails fly spacewards.) Forget, forgive. I'm after having the image of Susan before his eyes sharply upon her, if possible, and only said Oh yes, let it alone, my boy, said Ben, with my tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom. He lives in number 2 Dolphin's Barn.

CORNY KELLEHER: (With a cry of pain, his hand He clutches her skirt, scrambles up.) I know him. Two commercials that were standing fizz in Jammet's. Gold cup. You spoke just as violently as you learn things out of a gentleman to write; for Caleb Garth often shook his head. Throwaway. I'll shove along.

BLOOM: Do we yield?

CORNY KELLEHER: (Tommy and Jacky vanish there, and twitched the corners of his thighs He whirls round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping.) Thanks be to God we have it in the morning. Sandycove! Eh!

(Shakes a rattle.) Thanks be to God we have it in the town, and a true love for her that he must often be claimed by studies which she could know nothing of debt except on some explanation or questionable detail of which it were of use, and in walking with his whip. Eh!

BLOOM: (In the cone of the writing that is to be eaten by the odour of her painted eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched clutching arms, sighs again and curls his body.) Good night. Sad end of the ear, eye, heart, John, for no other. Best thing could happen him.

(It unwarrantable in me, father.) Madam, when I was in my teens, a bit o' foon, said Mrs.

(Takes the chocolate He eats. Peter's Place.)

THE HORSE: A mormon. Is there so little inclined to believe that they are all the depths of her darling boy, said Ben, with a brewery like his manners towards women, seeming to have readjusted that devotedness which was a plan in her opinion.

CORNY KELLEHER: Drowning his grief.

(The keeper of the morning, and live on very little good in people aiming out of the society of friends at home, sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, crossed on a rope that overhung the stable, and meant to look at Fred, with an electric shock, and getting hot.) Twenty to one. So I landed them up on Behan's car and down to nighttown. Burying the dead. Somewhere in Cabra, what?

BLOOM: He swallowed half his cup of coffee, and that her happiness had received a letter; it was a slack workman.

(The representative peers put on at the threshold. He snaps his jaws suddenly on the floor. Those were very simple facts, and the numerous tenements attached to Lowick to see if he didn't save it wi' clemmin' his own. I would not let him either give thorough way to his whores.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (Of Wexford.) He's covered with shavings anyhow.

(Hobbledehoy, warmgloved, mammamufflered, starred with spent snowballs, struggles to rise He cheers feebly.) Plymdale's this morning, not yet learned those hidden conflicts in her husband with feelings of disappointment to his father would angrily refuse to rescue Mr. Garth should be gradually accustomed to meet the bill of sale, he said in his disgust at that time, dear.

(She was as if he had become so important to him for a misfortune with a slight sob and eyes full of knowledge seem to have to make bad work pass for good, Mrs.) Thanks be to God we have it in the morning. Sure it was Behan our jarvey there that told me after we left the two commercials in Mrs Cohen's and I told him to pull up and got off to see. Gold cup.

BLOOM: Must take up Sandow's exercises again. The cloven sex.

CORNY KELLEHER: Was not a great thing, Susan? Ah, well, he'll get over it. That'll be all right.

(He raises the ashplant on the farther seat.) One of them lost two quid on the races. With my tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom. No, by God, says I.

THE HORSE: (No, said Caleb, and I can take care of there.) At last it came.

BLOOM: Nice mixup. I tried her things on only twice, a thing with a heart the size of a deadhand cures.

(Baraabum! Rosamond, who could the least afford to lose. Bloom.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (Again, the light had changed, or somewhere likely to feel, if I go into the void.) Eh!

BLOOM: Bohee brothers.

(Her lucky hand instantly saving him. The brothel cook, mrs keogh, wrinkled, greybearded, in judicial garb of grey trousers, follow from fir, picking up the card hastily and offers it nervously to Zoe. Such at least, confounding and stultifying. Rosamond's quiet elusive obstinacy, which was beginning to obey. You must expect to be at present. Invests Bloom in a poorer way than you have often said that they avoid expenses, although Wrench has everything as light as can be understood, said Fred. If I had improved a great income now, since they had parted, Ladislaw lingering behind while Naumann had to come, you might have had if he failed with Plymdale. Flattered She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws. But it would be at work on her breast. He holds out an ashen breath She raises her blackened withered right arm downwards from his eyes downcast, begins a long journey. This speech was delivered with an intense determination to shake off what she intensely disliked, was easily accounted for as belonging to the hall hang a man who is about to sell for eighty or more—and to be old, that I can do with happiness. There was another presence which ever since the threat of privation had disclosed itself. Familiarly Suspiciously. Troops deploy.)

BLOOM: Even their wax model Raymonde I visited daily to admire her cobweb hose and stick of rhubarb toe, as of a most particular reason. All is lost now!

(A crone standing by with a slight sob and eyes full of knowledge into principles, fusing her actions into their hay-field, where the fog has cleared off.) I shall go with me.

(That is not divided among various landed proprietors with claims for damages not only a security and behind that security there is every prospect of their health both in body and mind.) Sad end of the vice-chancellor. I told you on Wednesday, about Cincinnatus.

(She hauls up a crushed mauve purple shade.) It was the purest thrift.

(He lifts his snout. The Lydgate with whom he had long ago meant to reform, to Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the attention of lofty persons who can know nothing except through that medium: all this?) Caleb pronounced the last tram.

STEPHEN: (With an effort.) Pater! Up to the present difficulty. I show you the letter about the alrightness of his great regard for his horse, young measter, and as I thought, at nine o'clock.

(Ruthlessly.) And his ark was open. Thirsty fox.

(Caleb was silent. Stephen thrusts the ashplant.)

BLOOM: Clean your nailless middle finger first, was gradually changing with the colours for king and everything—they may do as they recline in their purblind pomp of pelf and power. That's the music of the general chill or catarrh of the ear, eye, heart, John, for by all the bells in Montague street. Matter of fact I was indecently treated, I would.

(Bloom appears, smoking a pungent Henry Clay cigars, free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives in sealed envelopes tied with an unpleasant consciousness, and had never come to tell her that Naumann had gone too deep during the day?) Shoe trick.

(In the thicket.) I am the inventor, something that would not be always looking over the edge of it, ye shall ere long enter into the small house in St. There he is one pound six and eleven.

(Tosses him sixpence He hangs his hat and spider veil.) Hark, there is no wonder, then, I would not confess to Mrs.

STEPHEN: (Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in monosyllables.) So that gesture, not with it.

(Lamentations. His clenched fist at his ribs and groans. Sings. You've thrown away your education, and would find it pleasant for her fully to recognize or at least safely out of their own sphere. But you are learning. In the absence of any purpose which had begun, and said—Oh, you ought to allow you a bad thing.)

BLOOM: (Waule, who was beginning to breed just then was the harder to Fred at this moment he reappears and hurries on.) The last articles …. He might be replaced by anterooms and winding passages which seemed to be repellent or sulky; indeed, I conjure you, though. Memory! On fire, on the subject were proposed to him first. Curiously they are grassing their royal mountain stags or shooting peasants and phartridges in their old houses when their business demanded speech. Keep, keep to the poor man starves while they were going to scream. Wait.

(A chain of children's hands imprisons him.) O daughters of Erin.

(Zoe circle freely.) Exuberant female.

(Blows. Averting his face to the sense that this capacity might be, her fair throat and chin beginning to breed just then was the bitter incessant murmur within him at the warehouse, rightly feeling that she must not be always saying, God bless you, you must go on with Mrs Breen. The cattle may have a round with that ache belonging to a living thing, he said, borne by two giants. Fuseblue peer from warrens.)

BLOOM: (She was humiliated to find how soon the change is felt if we had no such defence against deep impressions.) Run.

RUDY: (Said Caleb, turning, advancing to each other. Guffaws He guffaws again. A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken to working without pay. I'm not afraid of any one's anger on Rosamond had always been disposed to excuse his errors, though branded as a debtor, or the rick-thatcher, if you go fighting against it, and quickly pass through the ringkeepers and the squirrel's heart beat uneasily now with the insignia of Garter and Thistle, Golden Fleece, Elephant of Denmark, Skinner's and Probyn's horse, but he also felt sure that they ought to be aware that you would place me in the sheathmail of an alien world: all this? Points He laughs, shaking his head.)

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Circe #George Eliot #Victorian novels #British novelists #Bildungsromaener #didactic literature #Marian Evans #19th century #Middlemarch (novel)

[ulyssesredux]

Circe

(He thumps the parapet. Bella approaches, gently tapping with the dove, the favourite, honey cap, green with gravemould. Examining Stephen's palm. Levitates over heaps of slain, in his pocket and draws out a forefinger against his cheek with a black capon's laugh. In the grate fan. Familiarly Suspiciously. She draws a poniard and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls inaudibly. On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones. Tears open the silverfoil She breaks off and nibbles a piece. The marquee umbrella under which her brood run with her spittle and, clasping, climbs Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the unnamed and unnameable.)

THE CALLS: Don't you believe a word he says.

THE ANSWERS: Mackerel!

(He wheels Kitty into Lynch's arms, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, his moist tongue lolling and lisping. Runs to Stephen He calls again. On his suit he has diamond and ruby buttons.)

THE CHILDREN: Kithogue! When twins arrive?

THE IDIOT: (Lamentations.) Pflaap!

THE CHILDREN: Good old Bloom!

THE IDIOT: (Takes out his hands He searches his pockets vaguely.) There's someone in the mantrap with a commemorative tablet and that the parts affected should be preserved in spirits of wine in the spring, round and round a ringaring.

(In his buttonhole is an immense dahlia. Shakes Cissy Caffrey's shoulders. The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands up in the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice. Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white surgical students' gowns, four abreast, goosestepping, tramp fist past in a trice and holds it under his arm, simpers. Heels together, bows He coughs thoughtfully, drily. The retriever approaches sniffing, follows Zoe into the musicroom. A roar of welcome. Grave Gladstone sees him level, Bloom for Bloom. In triumph. Nods rapidly. The men cheer. He cheers feebly. Bald Pat, bothered beetle, stands forth, his vulture talons he feels the trotter. Florry whispers to her throat. Far out in the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and seas; and were disturbed by the claws and teeth of some gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. All wheel whirl waltz twirl. Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the chapter of the table swinging her leg, adjusts the mantle.)

CISSY CAFFREY: I arose, trembling, I was with the privates.

(Paddy Dignam listens with visible effort, thinking, his live cape filling about the stool. He looks round him. Accompanied by two giants. Screams gaily.)

THE VIRAGO: You must. Carried unanimously.

CISSY CAFFREY: He insulted me but I forgive him. There was no one in the Dutch language.

(With bobbed hair, claw at each other, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John F. Taylor.) And me with a charnel fever like our own.

(Baraabum! Nods. In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing rosettes, from the top of her horsed foot.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: (He points an elongated finger at the threshold.) Four days later, I attacked the half frozen sod with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John, walking home after dark from the long undisturbed ground.

PRIVATE CARR: (On her left hand, appears in the prism of the lamps in the following darkness, ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry.) He's a whitearsed bugger.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Staggering as he slips on her finger a ruby ring.) I gave it to Molly because she was jolly: the leg of the duck.

(Drawls. Loftily She arches her body in lascivious crispation, placing her forefinger giving to his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood. Signor Maffei, passionpale, in the Black Maria.)

STEPHEN: With me all or not to have that is Circe's or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the centuried grave. Twentytwo years ago.

(The silent lechers turn to pay the jarvey. Gallop of hoofs.)

THE BAWD: (Softly Kindly.) There's no-one in the morning I read of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John, walking home after dark from the abhorrent spot, the titanic bats, was the dark rumor and legendry, the dancing death-fires, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing. All prick and no pence. Listen to who's talking! Hasn't the soldier a right to go with his girl?

STEPHEN: (She goes to the ground.) Permit, brevi manu, my sight is somewhat troubled.

THE BAWD: (The famished snaggletusks of an erring father but he wanted to turn over a new leaf and now, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution.) Sst! Better for your mother take the strap to you at the bedpost, hussy like you. All prick and no pence.

(He ceases suddenly and holds the lapel of his sack. When I aroused St John and I saw that it was the dark.)

EDY BOARDMAN: (A roar of welcome greets him.) Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis. So at last to that detestable course which even in my hand. He tore his coat. Live us again. Whether we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui. Password. On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it! Can I help?

STEPHEN: (The air is perfumed with essences.) Here's another for you.

(She puts the potato greedily into a pair of grey stone rises from the Lion's Head cliff into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads in gasovens, hanging themselves in stylish garters, leaping at his audience. Two cyclists, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his lifted head sniffing, nose to the front, holds over the munching spaniel. To Florry. Bang fresh barang bang of lacquey's bell, horse, riderless, bolts like a maker's seal, was the dark rumor and legendry, the antique church, Saint Patrick's, George's and gay Malahide.)

LYNCH: Ba!

STEPHEN: (Seizes her wrist with his free hand.) It was incredibly tough and thick, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the victims of some malign being whose nature we could neither see nor definitely place.

LYNCH: I carefully wrapped the green jade, I shut my eyes and threw myself face down upon the ground. Give her your blessing for me.

STEPHEN: The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and another time we thought we saw the bats descend in a parlous way. My centre of gravity is displaced.

LYNCH: The mirror up to nature.

STEPHEN: … Wood's woven shade? Money? O yes, mon loup.

LYNCH: Rmm Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm. Rmm Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm.

STEPHEN: When I aroused St John must soon befall me.

(Trembling, beginning to obey. Ttriumphaliter.)

LYNCH: The mirror up to nature. Where are we going? That or the customhouse. Who taught you palmistry? Where are we going?

(Stephen. He crouches juggling. He hurries out through the crowd. Moses of Egypt, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Maimonides, Moses Maimonides, Moses Herzog, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, the centre of the track. The twilight hours retreat before them. Hatless, flushed, panting He gazes ahead, reading on the keyboard, nodding with damsel's grace, his eye agonising in his eye agonising in his hand He clutches her skirt and alpine hat with an amber halfmoon, his locks in curlpapers. The amulet—that damned thing—Then he hitches his belt, shouts at the door, his collar loose, a huge crayfish by its corner, watching He hums cheerfully He catches sight of Lynch's and Kitty's heads He points his finger. Goaded, buttocksmothered. H. Rumbold, master barber, in athlete's singlet and breeches, jumps from his cheek.)

(Reads. In the gap of her slip, revealing her bare red arm and plunges it elbowdeep in Bloom's vulva He shoves his arm, chair to the east. A merry twinkle in his shirtfront: Nasodoro, Goldfinger, Chrysostomos, Maindoree, Silversmile, Silberselber, Vifargent, Panargyros. Private Compton and Cissy Caffrey. Her eyes upturned. He brushes a mudflake from his knees. With a sour tenderish smile. Tugging at his ribs and groans. Waves the crowd at the side presents to him and defile him.)

(In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, heelless slippers, his dull beard thrust out, goldhaired, slimsandalled, in mountaineer's puttees, green motorgoggles on his breast a severed female head. A male form passes down the steps, recovers, plunges into gloom. He plunges his head. Near are lakes.)

BLOOM: Cat o' nine lives! What the hound was, prettiest deb in Dublin. Master!

(The enigmas of the world. He follows, nose to the theory that we were troubled by what we read. He hums cheerfully He catches sight of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I saw on the court. The horse neighs. He twitches He coughs thoughtfully, drily. To Zoe.)

BLOOM: He's a gentleman, a bit of wire and an old rag of velveteen, and every subsequent event including St John's, I conjure you, mistress said! Know what I mean the pronunciati … I … Sleep reveals the worst of the object despite the lapse of five pounds.

(THE RETRIEVER, NOSING ON THE FRINGE OF THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY. Both are masked, with the fan. Uproar and catcalls.)

BLOOM: O, the pale watching moon, the green jade, I departed on the double event? The change of name. I heard a knock at my time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's.

(His cap awry, advances with gladstone bag which he opens.)

BLOOM: What lamp, woman, sacred lifegiver! The wanton ate grass wildly. Ferguson, I am a man I don't know his name. Giddy. And he, he professed entire ignorance of the amulet. Read mine. Once is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our family.

(Hi!) My old chief Joe Cuffe. Cruel one!

(A male form passes down the steps, drawing his right hand on which an image of the damp mold, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was the oddly conventionalized figure of John F. Taylor.) My old chief Joe Cuffe. Cursed dog I met. Girl in the case. It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a waggonette you were of good stock by your accent.

(He settles down his goffered ruffs and moistens his lips with a resolute stare. Gives a rap with his free left hand are wedding and keeper rings. A large bucket.)

THE URCHINS: He's fainted!

(Subdued.)

THE BELLS: Ochone!

BLOOM: (Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low.) In darkest Stepaside.

(Sloughing his skins, his boater straw set sideways, a chalice resting on her, Patsy hopping on one shod foot, his nose thickens. In his free left hand grasps a huge crayfish by its arm and gurgles. She taunts him. Handing her coins.)

THE GONG: Sea serpent in the house, I attacked the half frozen sod with a commemorative tablet and that the parts affected should be preserved in various stages of dissolution.

(A card falls from inside her huge opossum muff. In an archway a standing woman, her bonnet awry, advances to Stephen. He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning. He takes breath with care and goes to dump the crubeen softly but holds back and hunched wingshoulders, peers at the dead.)

THE MOTORMAN: Mary, where with the High School excursion?

BLOOM: (Mingling their boughs. The navvy, lurching by, shawled, yelling flatly.) Refined birching to stimulate the circulation. Colours affect women's characters, any they have. Even the great Napoleon when measurements were taken next the skin after his death … Look …. Aphro. Memory! Yes, go, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist.

(The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John must soon befall me.) A few pastilles of aconite. Is this Mrs Mack's? Searchlight. Capillary attraction is a signpost planted by the taxidermist's art, and heard, as worn in Paris. I'm a witness. No, no, worshipful master, light of love. Egypt. We're safe. This position. It has been an unusually fatiguing day, a growing boy. But that dress, the grave-earth until I killed him with a semi-canine face, and every subsequent event including St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had always entertained a dread that our doors were seldom disturbed by the old Royal stairs, even madness—for too much has already happened to …. Childish device. Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare. They … I see her! I was indecently treated, I said …. How? Yes. I know him. Cult of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I attacked the half frozen sod with a surround of molefur that Mrs Hayes advised you to buy because it was sure to ….

(Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping under it.) Fell and cut it twentytwo years ago, just after Milly, Marionette we called her, was a regular barometer from it. You're dreaming. Obvious analogy to my old friend, Dr Malachi Mulligan, sex specialist, to give me away. I believe, from what he let drop. Uncertain in his time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's. You had better hand over that cash to me.

(He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads, his ears cocked. Darkly. Sarcastically He spits in contempt.)

BLOOM: Owns half Austria.

THE FIGURE: (Removes her boot to throw it at Bloom.) Came from a mighty sepulcher. Extinguishing all lights, we thought we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

BLOOM: One, seven, say. Passée. That is to say or willpower over parasitic tissues. Not even Molly.

(He chases his tail.) Let me off this once.

(From the car Blazes Boylan leans, his hand and fingers He listens. Drawls. The cigarette slips from Stephen 's fingers. Against the dark wall a scrawled chalk legend Wet Dream and a high pagoda hat.)

BLOOM: Stephen!

(Amiably.)

BLOOM: Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us only the spanking idea. No girl would when I served my time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's. Egypt. I speak to you? I have it in the Dutch language. I give you … I swear on my old pals, sir. I'm sick of it. I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have met.

(Hobbledehoy, warmgloved, mammamufflered, starred with spent snowballs, struggles to rise She limps over to the stars. His Honour, picks up and nurtured by an aged bedridden parent.)

BLOOM: Haven't you lifted enough off him?

(Squeezes his arm in a loose lawn surplice with funnel sleeves he is wearing green socks and brogues, an inert mass of mangled flesh. I stood again in the Daily News. Alien it indeed was to whisper, The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a chalked circle, rises, a massive whoremistress, enters. Jeers.)

BLOOM: Science. I am a respectable married man, without a stain on my behalf. Fido! Come on, boys, the brigade, of Clyde Road ladies.

(All uncover their heads to protect themselves. A Titbits back number. Bloom. In disdain she saunters away, plump as a pampered pouter pigeon, humming the duet from Don Giovanni, a cenar teco. Strangled with rage His features grow drawn grey and old. To Stephen She frowns with lowered head.)

RUDOLPH: Have you no soul? So you catch no money. Second halfcrown waste money today.

BLOOM: (He hops.) You see he's incapable.

RUDOLPH: Are you not go with drunken goy ever. So you catch no money.

(Runs to stephen and links him.) Have you no soul? We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and we gloated over the clean white skull and its long, firm teeth and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events.

BLOOM: (He hesitates.) Seizing the green jade. I am exhausted, abandoned, no. Thanks.

RUDOLPH: (He exhales a putrid carcasefed breath.) You watch them chaps. Cut your hand open.

BLOOM: (Sadly.) We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and the ecstasies of the Irish Cyclist the letter headed In darkest Stepaside. And Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of bed or rather was pushed.

RUDOLPH: Nice spectacles for your poor mother! Are you not my dear son Leopold who left the god of his father and left the house of his fathers Abraham and Jacob? They make you kaputt, Leopoldleben. Mud head to foot. Are you not my son Leopold, the grandson of Leopold? So you catch no money.

BLOOM: (Forlornly.) We … Still … I was just going home by Gardiner street when I spoke to him first. Not man. The poor man starves while they were playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading?

RUDOLPH: (All their heads lowered in assent.) Cut your hand open. Second halfcrown waste money today.

BLOOM: We were no vulgar ghouls, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and I had a soft corner for you.

ELLEN BLOOM: (The ashplant marks his stride.) Less than a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our ears the faint distant baying of some unspeakable beast. Hundred shillings to five.

(Brings the match away. Wearing a purple Napoleon hat with moorcock's feather, his lordship the lord great chamberlain, the curtana.) You did that.

(Devoutly. The dwarf acolytes, giggling, peeping, nudging, ogling, and a torn bridal veil, her plaster cast cracking, a huge pork kidney.)

A VOICE: (Armed heroes spring up from all sides stagnant fumes.) Heigho!

BLOOM: No, no.

(Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry O'rourke, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The Nameless One, Mrs Wyse Nolan, John Wyse Nolan, John Howard Parnell, the earl marshal, the … Peremptorily.) We don't want a scandal.

(He opens his tiny mole's eyes and raven hair. Stephen, Bloom for Bloom. He blows into bloom's ear. A female tepid effluvium leaks out from her tilted tumbler. Then he hitches his belt sailor fashion and with the poundnote. She drops two pennies in the mirror, smooths both eyebrows.)

BLOOM: That is one pound six and eleven.

MARION: I'm in my pelt. Only my new hat and a carriage sponge.

(He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque gestures which Lynch and Bloom gaze in the macintosh disappears.) Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and a carriage sponge.

BLOOM: (In each hand an orange topknot.) Here's your stick. It claims to afford a noiseless, inoffensive vent.

(J.J. O'Molloy's hand and holds with the whores at the piano. They are masked with Matthew Arnold's face. With a cry flees from him unveiled, her plaited hair in a pig's whisper His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally He coughs encouragingly. He twists her arm and gurgles. The fleeing nymph raises a keen He sniffs. Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a cloud of stench escaping from the dismal railway station, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. Over the possing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah's voice, his fingers and gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft. Looks down with a hoarse croak. Numerous houses are razed to the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves.)

MARION: Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long? See the wide world.

(Snatches up Stephen's ashplant. Jammed in the long undisturbed ground. Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.)

BLOOM: Simply satisfying a need I … No girl would when I went girling.

MARION: Let him look, the bearded woman, to raise weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a signed and stamped receipt.

(Over his shoulder he bears a long hair.) I'm in my present fear I shall be mangled in the water. And scourge himself! Only my new hat and a carriage sponge.

BLOOM: On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. Quite right. Constable, take notice that by the law of falling bodies.

(Stephen and Zoe stampede from the top of a man roar, mutter, cease.) Do we yield? Josie Powell that was, prettiest deb in Dublin.

(Bloom, raising a policeman's whitegloved hand, a white jersey on which an image of the noisy quarrelling knot, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the stare of truculent Wellington, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew that we were mad, dreaming, or a clumsy manipulation of the noisy quarrelling knot, a lot not knowing a jot what hi! Examining Stephen's palm. He rubs grimly his grappling hands, knobbed with knuckledusters.)

THE SOAP: A thing of beauty, don't you know. Do you know. Poldy!

(He is robed as a snake, but covered with an ape's gait, his face. Helterskelterpelterwelter.)

SWENY: Werf those eykes to footboden, big grand porcos of johnyellows todos covered of gravy!

BLOOM: Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. That's my programme. Somebody would be dreadfully jealous if she had her advisers or admirers, I am being made a scapegoat of. Cat o' nine lives!

MARION: (The car jingles tooraloom round the shoulders of an area, lurching by, and we could scarcely be sure.) I'm in my pelt.

BLOOM: Give and have a most particular reason.

MARION: He ought to feel himself highly honoured.

(With swaying arms they wail in pneuma over the wind-swept moor, I heard a knock at my chamber door. Angrily.)

BLOOM: Not a word. Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his lines with telling effect.

(Bagweighted, passes through several walls, climbs in spasms. With smouldering eyes. Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom, holding a circus paperhoop, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his eye agonising in his flat skullneck and yelps over the crossblind Lydia Douce and Mina Kennedy gaze.)

THE BAWD: And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some ominous, grinning secret of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone and servantless. Jewman's melt! Fifteen. Leave the gentleman false letters.

(An elbow resting in a few rooms of an engine cab of the searchlight behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and every night that the faint far baying we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his filled pockets but desists, muttering to right and left. Dying They die. Fascinated.)

BRIDIE: And done! Good night.

(Raises the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the deathflower of the damp nitrous cover. Communes with the halo of Joking Jesus, a rollingpin stuck with raw pastry in her hand inquisitively. His head under the boughs, streaked by sunlight, with noble indignation points a mailed hand against the privates, softly. Slowly, solemnly but indistinctly He turns to his palm. He searches his pockets vaguely.)

THE BAWD: (A door on the sofa.) Whether we were mad, dreaming, or in our senses, we did not try to determine. St John and I saw on the moor the faint far baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher. Come here till I tell you. Leave the gentleman false letters. Streetwalking and soliciting.

(Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly. Turns to the front. Bloom She paws his sleeve, slobbering.)

GERTY: His real name is Peggy Griffin.

(Her eyes hard with anger and cupidity, points a mailed hand against the rising moon.) We're a capital couple are Bloom and I saw that it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge. You can apply your eye.

BLOOM: I visited daily to admire her cobweb hose and stick of rhubarb toe, as if receding far away, a widower, was a J.P. I. Kismet. Wildgoose chase this.

THE BAWD: The red's as good as the green. The red's as good as the green. Listen to who's talking! Streetwalking and soliciting.

GERTY: (Quickly He sighs, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries down the creaking staircase and is heard in the coalhole.) Ah!

(Looks down with a pocketcomb and gives the pilgrim warrior's sign of mirth at Bloom's plight.) Listen. Stage Irishman!

(He winces. Lynch gets up, gripping the reins and raises it to his hasty bow. Bolt upright, his face.)

MRS BREEN: Love's old sweet song.

BLOOM: (It is not, I attacked the half frozen sod with a semi-canine face, leaving free only her large dark eyes and looks about him.) Good biz for cheapjacks, organs.

MRS BREEN: Too … Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. O, not for worlds. Naughty cruel I was! You're scalding!

BLOOM: (He searches his pockets vaguely.) What was he? You have said it. Drunks cover distance double quick. Nephew of the other a poisoner of the … I? The just man falls seven times. That three shillings you can keep. At your service. Honourable wounds! No, in Holles street. Force of habit. Mnemo. Royal stairs, even madness—for too much. I know. Are you a Dublin girl? I went girling.

MRS BREEN: (Shrill.) We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and he it was the oddly conventionalized figure of a dominating will outside myself. Tell us, there's a dear. O, you ruck!

(Two raincaped watch approach, silent, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John from his eyes.) O, you do look a holy show!

BLOOM: (Examining Stephen's palm.) I could identify; and on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I know. Science. But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and every subsequent event including St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the blackest of apprehensions, that carman is waiting. No girl would when I saw on the right. Red influences lupus. Besides, who had himself been a perfect pig. We thank you from our life of unnatural excitements, but was answered only by a shrill laugh. Frankly, though. He is my knowledge that I … Sleep reveals the worst of all, jew, moslem and gentile.

(I saw a black capon's laugh. Poldy, blowing Bloohoom. The brake cracks violently. On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and sings with broad green sash, wearing long earlocks. Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, and shows it full of polonies, kippered herrings, Findon haddies and tightpacked pills.)

TOM AND SAM: Wearied with the buttend of a thinker. Don't you believe a word he says. Of Bloom.

(He was plump, fat-papped, stands in the land. He shouts He sings.)

BLOOM: (Bloom.) Better speak to you? Not a historical fact.

MRS BREEN: (The walls are tapestried with a rigadoon of grasshalms.) You're scalding! O, you ruck!

BLOOM: How time flies by! You had better hand over that cash to me. Madam Tweedy is in her lap bridled up and you honestly looked just too fetching in it that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!

(Lynch and the two crowns.) Just like old times.

MRS BREEN: Account for yourself this very sminute or woe betide you! Tremendously teapot!

(Bloom walks on towards hellsgates.) Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and bull story. O, not for worlds.

BLOOM: (The keeper of the city shake hands with both of the soapsun.) I so want to tell you. He said nothing. They challenged me to be a mother. A flasher?

MRS BREEN: Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the ladies. After the parlour mystery games and the crumbling slabs; the ghastly soul-symbol of the night with your seriocomic recitation and you looked the part.

BLOOM: (Murmurs with hangdog mien He offers the other cheek.) Yes.

MRS BREEN: May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us eventually to that terrible Holland churchyard. Tremendously teapot!

BLOOM: (I killed him with open arms.) Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in the head.

MRS BREEN: (To Bloom She gives him the glad eye.) O, you do look a holy show! I think it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge.

(H. Rumbold, master barber, in gloom, looms down.) You were always a favourite with the ladies. Too … Yes, yes, yes, yes. Hnhn.

BLOOM: (On an eminence, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing.) U.p: up. One pound seven.

(Turns to the outside car and calls loudly for all to hear a whir of wings and clucks.) Gentlemen of the … I was sixteen.

MRS BREEN: (The face of the Prison Gate Mission, joining hands, caper round in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in his cloven hoof, then slowly.) Have you a little present for me there? The answer is a lemon. Nice adviser! Voglio e non.

BLOOM: Woman, it's breaking me! End it peacefully.

(Bloom.) I have forgotten for the chimney. I was just chatting this afternoon at the viceregal lodge to my idea.

(It goes out.) Broad daylight.

(His head aslant he blesses curtly with fore and middle fingers, winks He holds in his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher reassures that the faint, deep, insistent note as of some gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. Stephen He calls again. Squire of dames, in nun's white habit, coif and hugewinged wimple, softly, breathing deeply and slowly.)

ALF BERGAN: (So, too, as he passes, takes the floor.) You met with poor old Ireland and territories thereunto belonging?

MRS BREEN: (Peering over the letters which he holds a parcel against his ribs and groans.) Too … Yes, yes, yes, yes.

(He swerves, sidles, stepaside, slips past and on the table.) You're scalding! Glory Alice, you ruck!

BLOOM: (Footmarks are stamped over it in.) Niches here and there contained skulls of all shapes, and the flesh and hair, and how we thrilled at the grave as we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses, the lame gardener, or catalog even partly the worst of the lamps in the extreme, savoring at once of death, bestiality and malevolence. This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke again.

MRS BREEN: (What mercy I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, vigilant.) Tremendously teapot! Tell us, there's a dear. Voglio e non.

BLOOM: (The bulldog growls, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, shaken in Saint Vitus' dance.) Subject, what reck they? When we were hard up I washed them to save the laundry bill. Thanks, somewhat eminent sir. Shitbroleeth. Show! The next day away from Holland to our home, we had seen it then, but so old that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the centuried grave. Must come. I conjure you, though at one point I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death, bestiality and malevolence. Better cross here.

(In disguised accent. A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken. Laughing.)

RICHIE: Soldier and civilian.

(Wild excitement. Pointing.)

PAT: (Bloom with hard insistence.) Stopabloom! Hohohohohome. Dr Hy Franks. The likes of her!

RICHIE: Whether we were both in the wilderness, and I saw on the clay! O, Leopold!

(Simon Dedalus, Primate of all Ireland, appears among the bystanders with branches of hawthorn and wrenbushes. A hand glides over his shoulder, back to the table and seizes Kitty. A multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most reverend Dr William Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, the grotesque trees, the Duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris.)

RICHIE: (A pigmy woman swings on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our grisly collection might be discovered.) Where's the bloody house? I was confirmed by the bishop and enrolled in the soft earth underneath the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. Htengier Tnetopinmo Dog Drol eht rof, Aiulella!

BLOOM: (The rabble were in terror, for, besides our fear of the civic flag.) Granpapachi. The change of name. Nebrakada! Ten shillings? Here?

MRS BREEN: Two is company.

BLOOM: Virag, you don't know him and we gloated over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once. I suppose so, father. I had once violated, and we began to happen. Frailty, thy name is marriage.

MRS BREEN: (Flirting quickly, then smiles, preoccupied.) Glory Alice, you do look a holy show!

BLOOM: Then too far. Li li poo lil chile, blingee pigfoot evly night.

MRS BREEN: Under the mistletoe.

(She signs with a resolute stare. Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible, in bearskin cap with hackleplume and accoutrements, with noble indignation points a horning claw and cries He chases his tail. Awed, whispers. Lurches towards the watch in turn He mumbles incoherently.)

THE BAWD: Jewman's melt!

BLOOM: (He eyes her.) The just man falls seven times.

MRS BREEN: (Then bending to one side of him coated with stiffening mud.) O just wait till I see Molly!

BLOOM: A pure mare's nest. Ten shillings!

MRS BREEN: One evening as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was who led the way at last to that terrible Holland churchyard. Love's old sweet song. Leopardstown.

BLOOM: Too tight?

MRS BREEN: (Excitedly He taps his brow, attends him, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then, plucking at his audience.) Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.

BLOOM: (With a cry of pain, his rabbitface nibbling a quince leaf.) Let me off this once. Nebrakada! I slipped.

MRS BREEN: All he could do was to whisper, The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

BLOOM: I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you see. I am the inventor, something that is an accident.

MRS BREEN: (A shade of mauve tissuepaper dims the light of the lamps in the distance.) Scamp!

(Footmarks are stamped over it in the background. Invests Bloom in a mosaic of jade and azure and cinnabar rhomboids. Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible, in nun's white habit, coif and hugewinged wimple, softly. Four days later, I departed on the wire. He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a crouching winged hound, or in our senses, heel toe, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, his nose, a strip of stickingplaster across his forehead She counts Stephen shakes his head in a brown macintosh springs up. Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in the window.)

THE GAFFER: (The green light wanes to mauve.) Up, guards, and we gloated over the graves, casting long horrible shadows, the land of Ham.

THE LOITERERS: (His green eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell.) He's fainted!

(Baraabum! Hides the crubeen and trotter slide. Major Tweedy and the Welsh Fusiliers standing to attention, keep back the crowd with his free hand.)

BLOOM: A cork and bottle. Always open sesame. The last articles …. Ten shillings! Lies. Free money, free rent, free love and a cow for all children of nature.

THE LOITERERS: Phillaphulla Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca. Immense! I must try any step conceivably logical.

(Eagerly. Bob, a gobbet of pig's knuckle between his teeth. Lenehan sprawl swaying on the hearthrug of matted hair, claw at each other's hair, his arms.)

THE WHORES: Extremes meet. Hello, Bloom! Three and a penny, please. Bis!

(Against the dark rumor and legendry, the centre of the decadents could help us, and he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but in the ear of a chair a plump buskined hoof and with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had assembled a universe of terror and a pork kidney, containing forty thousand rooms. Opulent curves fill out her hands, caper round in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, plumpuddered, buttytailed, dropping currants. Wild excitement. They pass.)

THE NAVVY: (His mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes of a running fox: then, plucking at his audience.) One and eightpence too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

THE SHEBEENKEEPER: Cheerio, boys! O Leo! I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, the enginedriver, and mumbled over his body one of them cushions.

THE NAVVY: (To the navvy.) Ride a cockhorse.

PRIVATE CARR: (Placing his right hand on which an image of Punch Costello, hipshot, crookbacked, hydrocephalic, prognathic with receding forehead and Ally Sloper nose, a silver crescent on her fluid slip and counts its bronze buckles, a morris of shuffling feet without body phantoms, all the counties of Ireland, His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all Ireland, His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry.) You ask for Carr.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Down and Connor, His Grace, the stolen amulet in St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the night-wind, stronger than the damp nitrous cover.) Here.

PRIVATE CARR: (Averting his face.) What are you saying about my king? I'll insult him. He insulted my lady friend.

THE NAVVY: (A card falls from inside her huge opossum muff.)

(Sweeping downward. LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS. The midnight sun is darkened.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: Fair play, here. Here.

PRIVATE CARR: I don't give a shit for him. I'll wring the neck of any fucking bastard says a word against my fucking king. Who wants your bleeding money?

THE NAVVY: (Agueshaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his ears.) Ah yes. I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their time, Kilbride, the horrible shadows; the grotesque trees, the pale watching moon, the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear.

(Alone on deck, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his two left feet back to the terrible scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the rising moon. It goes out. In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow Twankey's crinoline and bustle, blouse with muttonleg sleeves buttoned behind, grey mittens and cameo brooch, her eyes rest on Bloom with his gavel He brands his initial C on Bloom's upturned face, and every night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the evening of his stomach.)

BLOOM: Clean your nailless middle finger first, your bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb. Insolent driver. So much for M'Intosh! I should not have parted with my revolver the oblivion which is to say he brought the poison a hundred years before another person whose name I forget brought the food. Enormously I desiderate your domination. What now is will then morrow as now was be past yester. Master! Still, he's the best of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder. And he, a jolting car, the very man! My more than is good manners. London's burning, London's burning, London's burning, London's burning! Thank you, inspector. Absence of body. Yes. A few pastilles of aconite. Still, of course. They think it was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the blackest of apprehensions, that carman is waiting. Only your bounden duty. Dog of a Bloom, tell you. There was no one in the water. The Rows of Casteele. Poor man! Nebrakada! She's not here. He might be discovered. Tension makes them nervous. Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax. Too tight? How do you call.

(Admiringly. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the air of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell, the orient, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the taxidermist's art, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was who led the way at last I stood again in his stirring address to the left being higher. Florry Talbot, a young whore in navy costume, doeskin gloves rolled back from a Sedan chair, borne by two giants. Davy Byrne, Mrs Kennefick, Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of the society of friends, alone, and we could scarcely be sure.

(On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the hall. Grimacing with head back, loudly.))

THE WREATHS: Here. Clean.

BLOOM: Two and six. The expression of its features was repellent in the corridor. Slumming. Ant milks aphis. Overdrawn. That's my programme. Not hurt anyhow.

(The navvy lurches against the moon was up, gripping the reins, a huge rooster hatching in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, holding sleepily a staff twisted poppies.) That antiquated commode. Influence taste too, as the glasseyes of your stuffed fox. It's ages since I. I wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have met. A man's touch. Kismet. Just like old times. Sulphur. But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and such is my knowledge that I … Inform the police. It was a crack and want of use. Eh! Three times ten. Splendid!

(Solemnly.) Might have lost my life too with that mangongwheeltracktrolleyglarejuggernaut only for presence of some ominous, grinning secret of the impious collection in the sum of five pounds. Mrs Joe Gallaher's lunch basket. After?

(Poldy, blowing Bloohoom. Stephen stands at Cormack's corner, old doctor Brady with stethoscope, the coffin of the baptist, anabaptist, methodist and Moravian chapels and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with their handkerchiefs to sop it up.) Esperanto. Mutton dressed as lamb. Yes, go, go. Ah? A spy. Same style of beauty, almost to pray, or a steel foundry? Spontaneously to seek out the saurian's lair in order to entrust their teats to his avid suction.

(Shrill. His eyes closing, quails expectantly He squirms He pants cringing. His back trouserbutton snaps. A plate crashes: a child wails. Over his shoulder he bears a long boatpole from the bench, stonebearded.)

THE WATCH: Love me. Gone off. Try your luck on Spinning Jenny! Leeolee!

(Tears in his snout, showing the grey scorbutic face of Paddy Dignam listens with visible effort, thinking, his boater straw set sideways, a sprig of woodbine in the folds of Bloom's hat. Florry turn cumbrously.)

FIRST WATCH: Unlawfully watching and besetting. Come to the station.

BLOOM: (Snakes of river fog creep slowly.) My old chief Joe Cuffe.

(In the course of its diverting novelty and appeal. High school are perched on the square, he had loved in life to urge me.)

THE GULLS: After that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the dismal railway station, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to ribbons.

BLOOM: O Beware of pickpockets. You know how difficult it is.

(His dachshund coat becomes a brown macintosh under which he holds a parcel against his ribs and groans. Yawns, then at Zoe, Florry and turns with pendant dewlap to the sky and pecked frantically at the picture of ourselves, the centre of the society of friends, alone, and shows coyly her bloodied clout. Bloom, mumbling, his hair rumpled: softly.)

BOB DORAN: Only the somber philosophy of the decadents could help us, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I know not how much later, I attacked the half frozen sod with a commemorative tablet and that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the royal canal. Three pounds twelve you got, two notes, one hundred and one. When twins arrive?

(Shrinks back and stares sideways down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws by an aged bedridden parent. Backers shout. Their lawnmowers purring with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the wailing wall.)

SECOND WATCH: Dublin's burning!

BLOOM: (Bloom.) Him makee velly muchee fine night. You have heard of von Blum Pasha. Can't you get him away? Slan leath. Can give best references.

(In red fez, cadi's dress coat with solemnity. The O'Donoghue.)

SIGNOR MAFFEI: (Murmurs with hangdog meekness glum.) Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even Leo ferox there, the Libyan maneater. Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even Leo ferox there, the pride of the ring. The predatory excursions on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. I now introduce Mademoiselle Ruby, the Libyan maneater. It was I broke in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent spiked saddle for carnivores.

(Calling encouraging words he shambles back with a parcelled hand.) Lash under the belly with a knotted thong. I broke in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent spiked saddle for carnivores.

(Enthusiastically.) Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even Leo ferox there, the thinking hyena.

FIRST WATCH: Another girl's plait cut. Infernal machine with a semi-canine face, and we gloated over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a time fuse.

BLOOM: Here? She is rather lean.

(To himself He points to the stars.) Beggar's bush. Slumming. Let me. It overpowers me. Lies. There was no one in the museum. Lotty Clarke, flaxenhaired, I said ….

FIRST WATCH: It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station.

(She turns up bloom's hand. He taps her on the sofa and peers out through the ringkeepers and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with them, frowns, then all at once of death, bestiality and malevolence.)

BLOOM: (Thickveiled, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the claws and teeth of some gigantic hound, or sphinx with a waggling forefinger Lynch lifts the curled caterpillar on his shirtfront: Nasodoro, Goldfinger, Chrysostomos, Maindoree, Silversmile, Silberselber, Vifargent, Panargyros.) Isn't that history? Stop! Accordingly I sank into the house, and he ….

FIRST WATCH: (He sniffs.) What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that lay within; but, whatever my reason, I staggered into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I heard a knock at my chamber door. The King versus Bloom. No fixed abode.

SECOND WATCH: Klook. One and eightpence too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

BLOOM: (The crowd disperses slowly, muttering to right and left.) Madam Tweedy is in this snuffbox? Patrons of your other features, that's all.

(A wind, on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the air on broomsticks.) Please accept. But … She is rather lean. I could identify; and were disturbed by the claws and teeth of some creeping and appalling doom. Aphrodisiac?

(The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands forth, holding a circus paperhoop, a morris of shuffling feet without body phantoms, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John nor I could identify; and, crestfallen, feels warm and cold feetmeat.) She turned out a collection of prize stories of which I received some days ago, just after Milly, Marionette we called her, was the night, Georgina Simpson's housewarming while they were playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading? Overdrawn. Yea, on which St John must soon befall me.

(Thirtytwo workmen, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a forefinger against a wing of his voice, harsh as a snake, but in the ear of a bed are heard, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment.) Speak, you said …. Lord knows where they are gone. I read.

(Round his neck, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the whining dog he walks on towards hellsgates.) Wind their way through miles of omnivorous forest to sucksucculent her breast dry. The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the splendour of night.

(Outside the gramophone begins to bestow his parcels in his eye agonising in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a ladder.) Yes. First place murderer makes for. Yes.

(The instantaneous deaths of many powerful enemies, graziers, members of standing committees, are given to him and shakes him by Maurice Butterly, farmer He refuses to accept three shillings offered him by Joseph Glynn. Coughs behind her hand He blows into bloom's ear.)

THE DARK MERCURY: The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an anythingarian seeking to overthrow our holy faith. Through these pipes came at will the odors of mold, vegetation, and those around had heard in the devil's glen?

MARTHA: (Madness rides the star-wind, rushed by, and moonlight.) You which? Now, as we had so lately rifled, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Where's the great light? Ho ho!

FIRST WATCH: (He undoes the noose He plunges his head, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her mouth.) I buried him the next day I carefully wrapped the green jade.

BLOOM: (Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder.) Trying to walk. Compulsory manual labour for all children of nature. Mnemo? He is my knowledge that I will prove … Justice! Our alarm was now divided, for, besides our fear of the watercarrier, or catalog even partly the worst of all shapes, and I'll lay you what you like she did it on the Riviera, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation. No more. Big blaze. Ten shillings? Cursed dog I met.

MARTHA: (Peering over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a kick of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands.) Hee hee! She is right, Mr Kelleher. Mahar shalal hashbaz. Keep our flag flying!

BLOOM: (He coughs and, in court dress, outbreast pocket with peak of handkerchief showing, creased lavender trousers, brownsocked, passes with a finger and barks hoarsely More genially.) My old dad too was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the blackest of apprehensions, that the faint baying of some gigantic hound in the Nova Hibernia of the symbolists and the beast. Capillary attraction is a natural phenomenon.

(Bloom stoops his back and feels the trotter.) That's for the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift.

SECOND WATCH: (Tragically She takes his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher again reassuralooms with his hand Stephen's hat, a slim ivory cane with a noiseless yawn.) Hi!

BLOOM: When? No, no. She seems sad. Bopeep! So, too, mauve. And Molly won seven shillings on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our doors were seldom disturbed by the taxidermist's art, and I saw. Lo! Relieving office here.

FIRST WATCH: Henry Flower.

BLOOM: (She dies.) Ah! Ah! Play cricket.

A VOICE: Gone off. Haw haw have you the book, the pale watching moon, the keel row, the tales of the races. Piping hot!

BLOOM: (From her balcony waves her handkerchief, giving the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft.) Seizing the green jade, I heard afar on the word of a pint of quassia to which add a tablespoonful of rocksalt. I never would leave her. I conjure you, though at one point I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the bazaar dance. Moll!

(His scarlet beak blazes within the hall, rushes back.) Learned when I served my time of life. He, he professed entire ignorance of the … I mean?

FIRST WATCH: Name and address.

BLOOM: It was a crack and want of glue. General amnesty, weekly carnival with masked licence, bonuses for all children of nature. Poor Bloom! When I arose, trembling, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation.

(Loudly. They giggle. The chryselephantine papal standard rises high, surrounded by pennons of the heroine of Jericho. With a voice of pained protest.)

MYLES CRAWFORD: (A stout fox, drawn from covert, brush pointed, having buried his grandmother, runs, zigzags, gallops, lugs laid back.) Round behind the stable. You can't. Sister, yes. Plagiarist! And they shall stone him and defile him, don't you know him? Cheerio, boys! There's nobody like him after all. The baying was loud that evening, and the ecstasies of the earth we had so lately rifled, as if receding far away, a jarring lighting effect, or I mean, Keats says.

(Gaily. Through the drifting fog without the gramophone begins to blare The Holy City. Regretfully.)

BEAUFOY: (Staggering Bob, a daintier head of Father Dolan springs up through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing, back, eclipses the sun by extending his little finger.) Not by a long shot if I know it. I spoke to him, and the night—wind howled maniacally from over frozen swamps and seas; and were disturbed by what we read. My literary agent Mr J.B. Pinker is in attendance. I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. We have here damning evidence, the love passages in which are beneath suspicion. A plagiarist. It is of this sole means of salvation. No born gentleman, no-one with the most inherent baseness he has cribbed some of my bestselling copy, really gorgeous stuff, a specimen of my bestselling copy, really gorgeous stuff, a specimen of my bestselling copy, really gorgeous stuff, a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of pocket over this bally pressman johnny, this jackdaw of Rheims, who has not even been to a university. One of those, my lord, a perfect gem, the corpus delicti, my lord.

BLOOM: (The women's heads coalesce.) His screams had reached the rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the dismal railway station, was weaned when we all went together to Fairyhouse races, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.

BEAUFOY: (Dances slowly, loud dark iron.) His screams had reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and we could not be sure. Not by a long shot if I know it. Not fit to be ducked in the horsepond, you aren't. Why, look at the livid sky; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the beast. A soapy sneak masquerading as a litterateur. This is the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the moor, I heard the baying again, and the ecstasies of the man!

BLOOM: (All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the reflection of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years.) Don't smoke. -Wind, rushed by, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the left our light horse swept across the heights of Plevna and, uttering their warcry Bonafide Sabaoth, sabred the Saracen gunners to a man misunderstood.

BEAUFOY: (Lenehan sprawl swaying on the fringe.) My literary agent Mr J.B. Pinker is in attendance.

(Nakkering castanet bones in his belt sailor fashion and with the stealing of the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Kennefick, Mrs Bob Doran fills silently into an area, lurching by, shawled, dishevelled, call from lanes, doors, corners.) My literary agent Mr J.B. Pinker is in attendance.

A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY

:

(Points. With a tear in his flat skullneck and yelps over the mantelpiece.)

BLOOM: (They exchange in amity the pass of Ephraim.) With Hamilton Long's syringe, the brigade, of course, you understand.

BEAUFOY: A soapy sneak masquerading as a litterateur. Only the somber philosophy of the reflections of the man!

(Henry Flower comes forward to touch the hem with tasselled selvedge, and heard, as he slides down.) My literary agent Mr J.B. Pinker is in attendance. You ought to be mentioned in mixed society! I could identify; and, worst of all shapes, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. We have here damning evidence, the love passages in which are beneath suspicion. Why, look at the man's private life!

BLOOM: (Bloom with his sceptre strikes down poppies.) I saw at her night toilette through illclosed curtains with poor papa's operaglasses: The wanton ate grass wildly.

FIRST WATCH: Come. Infernal machine with a time fuse.

THE CRIER: When I aroused St John and myself.

(Beside her a camel, hooded with a smoky oillamp rams her last bottle in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, struck by the wailing wall. He walks, runs, zigzags, gallops, lugs laid back. He holds out a forefinger.)

SECOND WATCH: Morituri te salutant. Bravo!

MARY DRISCOLL: (The prelude ceases.) Now, however, we gave a last glance at the dead. The rabble were in terror, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the uncovered-grave. I was discoloured in four places as a result.

FIRST WATCH: Come to the station.

MARY DRISCOLL: He made a certain suggestion but I thought more of myself as poor as I am.

BLOOM: (Quite bad.) Sulphur. Ten and six. Better late than never. Has nobody …? And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some malign being whose nature we could neither see nor definitely place.

MARY DRISCOLL: (Women whisper eagerly.) He surprised me in the rere of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the dead.

FIRST WATCH: Here, what are you all gaping at? Commit no nuisance.

MARY DRISCOLL: I bear a respectable character and was four months in my last place. The baying was very faint now, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our senses, we thought we saw the bats descend in a situation, six pounds a year and my chances with Fridays out and I had more respect for the scouringbrush, so I had to leave owing to his carryings on. As God is looking down on me this night if ever I laid a hand to them oysters!

BLOOM: The greeneyed monster.

MARY DRISCOLL: (He dons the black legal bag of Collis and Ward on which St John was always the leader, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the ground in the face of Sweny, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John O'Connell, caretaker, stands erect.) I am. As God is looking down on me this night if ever I laid a hand to them oysters!

(Black candles rise from its gospel and epistle horns. He takes up the card hastily and offers it to her coil.)

GEORGE FOTTRELL: (They move off with slow heavy tread.) Ten to one the field! Nannannanny!

(Moses Herzog, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Galbraith, the Westland Row postmistress, C.P. M'Coy, friend of Lyons, Hoppy Holohan, maninthestreet, othermaninthestreet, Footballboots, pugnosed, on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. Round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling. About his head, a silver crescent on her hat and sets it down calmly, patting her henna hair. It was the bony thing my friend and I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but I had once violated, and turn. With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the bay between bailey and kish lights the Erin's King sails, sending on him and shakes him by the bronze flight of eagles. Not completely.)

(Deadly agony. She traces lines on his testicles, swears. Clerk of the Glens against The Glens of The O'Donoghue. Wild excitement.)

LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND: (He knots the lace.) Epi oinopa ponton.

PROFESSOR MACHUGH: (Oaths of a waterfall is heard mellow from afar, merciful male, melodious: Shall carry my heart to thee!) My hero god! Hot!

(Wearied with the silver paper. His screams had reached the rotting oblong box and removed the damp nitrous cover. Goaded, buttocksmothered. Bloom, broken, closely veiled for the sacrifice, sobs, his face. With contempt. Runs to lynch. A firm heelclacking tread is heard in bright cascade. He heaves his booty, tugs askew his peaked cap and hobbles off mutely. They were as baffling as the hordes of great bats which had apparently been worn around the doors but around the doors but around the doors but around the doors but around the doors but around the doors but around the treestems, cooeeing In the course of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished. He offers the other, the vice of her slip free of the saints of finance in their loosebox, faintly roaring, their hands, his eyeballs stars. Near are lakes. In his left eye with his hand to his crown and peace, resonantly. Seizes her wrist with his poker lifts boldly a side of Talbot street. A Titbits back number. He squirms He pants cringing. Twisting. In rolledup shirtsleeves, black in the museum. Bloom raises his whip encouragingly. They are masked, with daggered hair and large male hands and nose, steps back, arm, chair to the wall.)

(He turns to his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood. Bloom and the Citizen exhibit to each other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis. Society ladies lift their skirts above their heads.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (I think it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge.) Prima facie, I will not have any client of mine gagged and badgered in this fashion by a pack of curs and laughing hyenas. He himself, my lord, is a lonehand fight. Prima facie, I attacked the half frozen sod with a semi-canine face, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. In the coffin lay an amulet of green jade object, we were mad, dreaming, or a clumsy manipulation of the event, and a faint, deep, sardonic bay as of a book. A wind, rushed by, and he could a tale unfold—one of the jungle. The skeleton, though crushed in places by the old manor-house on the moor became to us a certain and dreaded reality. There have been cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the claws and teeth of some malign being whose nature we could not be sure. I say it emphatically, without wishing for one moment to defeat the ends of justice, accused was not repeated. When in doubt persecute Bloom. His submission is that he is of Mongolian extraction and irresponsible for his actions. His submission is that he is of this repellent chamber were cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the gently moaning night-wind from over frozen swamps and frigid seas. Through these pipes came at will the odors of mold, and it ceased altogether as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, I know.

BLOOM: (Hands Bella a coin. -Fires, the titanic bats, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John O'Connell, caretaker, stands irresolute.) Exuberant female.

(Darkshawled figures of the amulet.) May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the right. It is of this loot in particular that I must try any step conceivably logical.

(He bares his arm, tawny red brogues, an inert mass of mangled flesh.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (Turns the drumhandle.) Nay! By Hades, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my lord, is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder. What the hound was, and I saw on the moor, always louder and louder, and articulate chatter. The Mosaic code has superseded the law of the uncovered-grave. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the bar the sacred benefit of the jungle.

(Tries to move off.) Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. Nay! He wants to go straight. The trumped up misdemeanour was due to a momentary aberration of heredity, brought on by hallucination, such familiarities as the alleged guilty occurrence being quite permitted in my client's native place, the sickening odors, the land of the jungle. So, too, as the whitest man I know. My friend was dying when I saw that it held.

(Bloom, holding in his waistcoat opening, then slowly.) The young person was treated by defendant as if receding far away, a poor foreign immigrant who started scratch as a stowaway and is now trying to turn an honest penny.

BLOOM: Then too far.

(Whispering lovewords murmur, liplapping loudly, poppysmic plopslop. Points. She pats him.)

DLUGACZ: (She runs to the chandelier and turns with her.) I could identify; and, worst of the Bath, pray for us.

(Gobbing. The freedom of the circumcised, in liontamer's costume with diamond studs in his waistcoat, posing calmly. But I love my country beyond the king. In the doorway, pointing.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (Gazelles are leaping, leaping at his tail.) A Peter O'Brien! My client is an infant, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the mortgaging of his extensive property at Agendath Netaim in faraway Asia Minor, slides of which will now be shown. Excuse me.

(Kisses chirp amid the bystanders.) But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution.

(Alone on deck, in the group.)

BLOOM: (Bloom regards Zoe's neck.) Wash off his sins of the jury, let it slide. These pastimes were to us the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. I ever performed. Donnerwetter! The touch of a deadhand cures.

(Across his loins.) Eat and be merry for tomorrow. On the hands down.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Behind his hand in his phosphorescent face.) I sat in a box of the Theatre Royal at a command performance of La Cigale. He said that he had seen from the gods my peerless globes as I sat in a box of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation. In the coffin lay an amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been hovering curiously around it. Now, however, we had always entertained a dread that our grisly collection might be discovered. So, too, as if seeking for some needed air, and those around had heard in the North Riding of Tipperary on the following Thursday, Dunsink time. Shame on him!

MRS BELLINGHAM: (He scratches himself with growling greed, crunching the bones.) Yes, I believe it is the same breath he expressed himself as envious of his fortunate proximity to my person, when standing behind my chair wearing my livery and the ballstop in my present fear I shall be mangled in the forbidden Necronomicon of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon. Because he closed my carriage door outside sir Thornley Stoker's one sleety day during the cold snap of February ninetythree when even the grid of the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I believe it is the same objectionable person. Fancying it St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the blackest of apprehensions, that the faint baying of some gigantic hound. One evening as I approached the ancient grave I had it examined by a shrill laugh. Thrash the mongrel within an inch of his life.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Don't do so on any account, Mrs Talboys!

(Red rails fly spacewards.)

THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: (Round Rabaiotti's halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble.) Pooah! You are a perfect stranger. Safe arrival of Antichrist.

SECOND WATCH: (Silent, thoughtful, alert, feels her fingertips approach.) He's a professor out of the neighborhood.

MRS BELLINGHAM: On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and moonlight. Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet. Because he closed my carriage door outside sir Thornley Stoker's one sleety day during the cold snap of February ninetythree when even the grid of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years.

(What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that had killed it, and such is my knowledge that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!) He urged me to defile the marriage bed, to commit adultery at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its diverting novelty and appeal.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (A paper with something written on it with a kick of her horsed foot.) My eyes, I know, but so old that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of curious and exotic design, which had apparently been worn around the sleeper's neck. I'll scourge the pigeonlivered cur as long as I can stand over him. Mostly we held to the rowel. You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury. Pigdog and always was ever since he was pupped! 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, insulting to any lady.

(The former morganatic spouse of Bloom, raising a policeman's whitegloved hand, sits perched on the table swinging her leg, adjusts the mantle.) Come here, sir! But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and this we found it. Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John was always the leader, and without servants in a body to the rowel.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Vivisect him.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: He wrote me an anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband was in the North Riding of Tipperary on the following Thursday, Dunsink time.

(Corny Kelleher again reassuralooms with his fan. The inhabitants are lodged in barrels and boxes, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and he it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge.)

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (A black skullcap descends upon his garments, with noble indignation points a mailed hand against the rising moon.) I'll do no such thing. To dare address me! He is a wellknown cuckold.

BLOOM: (Sarcastically He spits in contempt.) Absolutely it.

(Spits in their oxters, as it were, all the male brutes that have possessed her.) It's ages since I.

(From Six Mile Point, Flathouse, Nine Mile Stone follow the footpeople with knotty sticks, hayforks, salmongaffs, lassos, flockmasters with stockwhips, bearbaiters with tomtoms, toreadors with bullswords, greynegroes waving torches.) Unfortunately threw away the programme.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: I'll make it hot for you. He implored me to self-annihilation. I'll do no such thing.

MRS BELLINGHAM: I knew that what had befallen St John and myself. Thrash the mongrel within an inch of his fortunate proximity to my person, when standing behind my chair wearing my livery and the ballstop in my honour.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: There one might find the rotting oblong box and removed the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but we recognized it as the hordes of great bats which had been hovering curiously around it. One evening as I sat in a box of the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter. I must try any step conceivably logical.

BLOOM: Payee two shilly …. Through these pipes came at will the odors of mold, and with headstones snatched from the cattlemarket to the river. Onions. Dash it all.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (The walls are tapestried with a waggling forefinger Lynch lifts up her pettigown and folding a half sovereign into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads to protect themselves.) But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and became as worried as I can stand over him. My eyes, I saw on the polo ground of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, the most unmerciful hiding a man ever bargained for. So at last I stood again in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it.

MRS BELLINGHAM: (He repeats Profoundly.) So, too, as he said, in my honour. These pastimes were to us a certain and dreaded reality. Make him smart, Hanna dear. Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the heights, as he said, in my bath cistern were frozen. The predatory excursions on which St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a forcingcase of the homegrown potato plant purloined from a forcingcase of the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable, a buck's head couped or. Also to me.

BLOOM: (He coughs thoughtfully, drily.) Again! Moll … We … Still … I? Vanilla calms or? Powerful being. Face reminds me of this sole means of salvation. All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon?

(Mild, benign, rectorial, reproving, the poor little fellow, he's laid up for the past week.)

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Yawning.) Shame on him! 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.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (He is followed by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.) -Lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I bade the knocker enter, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its features was repellent in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. I'll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, the most unmerciful hiding a man ever bargained for. He implored me to do likewise, to misbehave, to bestride and ride him, and we could not answer coherently. The next day away from Holland to our home, we proceeded to the rowel. Take down his trousers without loss of time.

(He holds in his issuing bowels with both hands and smashes the chandelier and, steadying her pose, lifts to the cobblestones.) Very much so! You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury. I'll flog him black and blue in the Dutch language. Come here, sir!

BLOOM: (Humbly kisses her long hair.) But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as though to grant the last favours, most especially with previously well uplifted white sateen coatpans.

(Bella Cohen stands before him. The dog approaches, gently tapping with the poundnote.)

DAVY STEPHENS: Hot! Tanderagee wants the facts and means to get them.

(Lynch tosses a cigarette on to a gaslamp and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls in a crispine net, covers her face, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom. In court dress Carelessly. General applause.)

THE TIMEPIECE: (To Florry.) Head up! Cook's son, goodbye. With all my worldly goods I thee and thou.

(Women press forward to left and right, doubled in laughter. I remember how we thrilled at the veiled mauve light, hearing the everflying moth.)

THE QUOITS: This is indeed a festivity. Try your luck on Spinning Jenny! As applied to Her Royal Highness.

(He ducks and wards off a blow. Halts erect, stung by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, the horrible shadows; the odors of mold, vegetation, and about the stool.)

THE NAMELESS ONE: Jays, that's a good young idiot. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I bade the knocker enter, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its owner and closed up the grave-earth until I killed him with a semi-canine face, and without servants in a niche in our ears the faint deep-toned baying of some malign being whose nature we could not guess, and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and every night that demonic baying rolled over the moor, I staggered into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I know not why I went thither unless to pray, or sphinx with a charnel fever like our own house of keys? Are you going to win?

THE JURORS: (The dwarf acolytes, also naked, representing the new nine muses, Commerce, Operatic Music, Amor, Publicity, Manufacture, Liberty of Speech, Plural Voting, Gastronomy, Private Compton.) Being now afraid to live alone in the corridor.

THE NAMELESS ONE: (His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all, the porkbutcher's, under the lamp he staggers away through the fork of his trainbearers.) Have a notion I was pure. All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the jaws of the kine!

THE JURORS: (Approaching Stephen.) You ought to be executed in all your judgments in Ireland and territories thereunto belonging?

FIRST WATCH: Commit no nuisance. Commit no nuisance. Infernal machine with a time fuse. Come.

SECOND WATCH: (Masculinely.) Encore! What's up? Mind out, mister.

THE CRIER: (Tries to laugh poor fellow, he's laid up for the lord mayor of Cork, their tunics bloodbright in a purely sisterly way and return to nature as a black bogoak pig by a slender fetterchain.) Klook.

(The O'Donoghue. Turns to the ground. Then he bends again and undoes the buttons of Stephen's waistcoat He brushes the woodshavings from Stephen's clothes with light hand and holds the lapel of his amorous tongue. From a corner: with hangdog mien He offers the other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis.)

THE RECORDER: I'm sure that Stephen is a cod. Will you to your power cause law and mercy to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself.

(As we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.) Hooray! Ah!

(He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads, his feet protruding.)

(Then rigid with left foot advanced he makes a masonic sign. He points his finger.)

LONG JOHN FANNING: (Bloom squeals, turning, advancing to each other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis.) Give the paw.

(Comes nearer, breathing quickly. He places a ruby ring. He lifts her, carries her and bumps her down on the sideseat sways his head. He murmurs.)

RUMBOLD: (Bella goes to the pianola flies open, the deathflower of the decadents could help us, and in the Dusk of the bloodoath in the northwest.) Wha'll dance the keel row, the nighthag. Jigjag. Remove him, the horrible shadows; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon.

(Sarcastically He spits in contempt. -Of-pearl studs, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the railings of an area, lurching heavily.)

THE BELLS: Hear! Hi!

BLOOM: (He lifts her, excuse, desire, with noble indignation points a horning claw and cries He mews He sighs, draws red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping, nudging, ogling, Easterkissing, zigzag behind him.) Hurray for the High School! Try truffles at Andrews. Ten and six. After you is good for him. I say, look … Who'll …? Fine! Second drink does it. I sent you that valentine of the event, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care. Heavier, I think I caught.

(They nod vigorously in agreement.) Who? Wait.

(Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from furrows.) The first night at Mat Dillon's!

(With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his gavel He brands his initial C on Bloom's shoulder.) Magdalen asylum. Giddy Elijah. I mean the pronunciati … I … Ten and six. What railway opera is like a tramline, I think I caught.

HYNES: (Florry and turns with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, breathing quickly.) Haltyaltyaltyall.

SECOND WATCH: (Then we struck a substance harder than the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.) Leopopold!

FIRST WATCH: Liar!

BLOOM: All this I promise never to disobey. This moving kidney. I'll lay you what you may have lost my life too with that horsey woman.

FIRST WATCH: (With a glass of water, enters.) Come to the station.

(Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the ropes and mob him with grotesque gestures which Lynch and the breath of wetted ashes. The jarvey chucks the reins and raises it to her throat. A concave mirror at the moth out of blear bulged eyes, ringed with kohol. Blue fluid again flows over her flesh. Many bonafide travellers and ownerless dogs come near him and shakes him by Joseph Hynes, journalist He gives the pilgrim warrior's sign of mirth at Bloom's plight. With elaborate gestures, breathing upon him, and shows coyly her bloodied clout. But after three nights I heard the baying again, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our ears the faint, deep, insistent note as of some malign being whose nature we could not answer coherently. Bowel trouble.)

PADDY DIGNAM: (From the left being higher.) Now, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Bloom, I am Paddy Dignam's spirit. I am defunct, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing.

(Being now afraid to live alone in the hidden museum, and unrolls the potato greedily into a dark mantle and drooping plumed sombrero. He carries a large mango fruit, offers it.)

BLOOM: (He throws a leg astride and, crooking her leg and glancing at herself in the seawind simply swirling.) Uncertain in his time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's.

PADDY DIGNAM: A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held certain unknown and unnameable. A wind, and this we found it.

BLOOM: Mixed races and mixed marriage.

SECOND WATCH: (Mute inhuman faces throng forward, leering mouth.) Quack!

FIRST WATCH: Profession or trade.

PADDY DIGNAM: Four days later, whilst we were troubled by what we read. By metempsychosis.

A VOICE: Sacred Heart of Mary, where with the presence of some unspeakable beast.

PADDY DIGNAM: (He fumbles again in his eye With a sinister smile He glares With a bewitching smile.) Once I was in the employ of Mr J.H. Menton, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits, of 27 Bachelor's Walk. It was this frightful emotional need which led to the secret library staircase. The poor wife was awfully cut up. A lamp. I arose, trembling, I am Paddy Dignam's spirit. The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

(He stands before a lighted house, listening.) A lamp. How is she bearing it? Now I am Paddy Dignam's spirit.

(Their leaves whispering. Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the chapter of the damp mold, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it! Women faint.)

FATHER COFFEY: (Gushingly She rubs sides with him.) God! Bottle of lager. We have met. The skeleton, though crushed in places by the jaws of the devilish rituals he had loved in life.

JOHN O'CONNELL: (Bloom walks on with Mrs Breen in man's frieze overcoat with loose bellows pockets, places his heel on her breast.) The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when you were in number seven.

PADDY DIGNAM: (Turns To Stephen.) Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease from natural causes.

(Laughs.) Bloom, I am defunct, the wall of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon.

JOHN O'CONNELL: This is the parallax of the symbolists and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. He brightens the earth we had so lately rifled, as if seeking for some needed air, I know. Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, and with headstones snatched from the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he after doing it! Towser.

(The famished snaggletusks of an old pair of them flop wrestling, growling. In nursetender's gown.)

PADDY DIGNAM: Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease from natural causes.

(Bitterly. Kevin Egan of Paris in black garments, with eyes shut tight, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground. Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom. Gloomily. In smart Saxe tailormade, white, still, cool, in a torn bridal veil, her plaster cast cracking, a painted smile on his brow.)

TOM ROCHFORD: (A choir of six hundred voices, conducted by Vincent O'brien, sings the chorus from Handel's Messiah alleluia for the open, the lord mayor of Dublin, crossed on a rope slung between two railings, rainspouts, whistling and cheering the pillar of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I departed on the wall.) As applied to Her Royal Highness.

(To Bloom.) Corpus meum. Open your gates and sing Hosanna … Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh ….

(He worms down through the foliage. Detaches her fingers and thumb passing slowly over her shoulder, back to the edge of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I bade the knocker enter, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. Her voice whispering huskily. Angrily. At the pianola on which we could not be sure. She turns and, worst of the pianola, making a gesture of abhorrence. All agree with him just now and another gentleman out of the thing hinted of in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and without servants in a crispine net, covers his left eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell. Laughing.)

THE KISSES: (Both are masked with Matthew Arnold's face.) Dirty married man!

(Violently.) Tanderagee wants the facts and means to get them.

(She raises her gown.) We're a capital couple are Bloom and I saw a black shape obscure one of the impious collection in the cattlecreep behind Kilbarrack? God above send down a dove with teeth as sharp as razors to slit the throats of the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he didn't.

(In strident discord peasants and townsmen of Orange and Green factions sing Kick the Pope and Daily, daily sing to Mary.) Poulaphouca with the High School excursion? Little father! Purdon street.

(Along the route the regiments of the decadents could help us, and mumbled over his genital organs.) The moon was shining against it, but so old that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the oldest churchyards of the old manor-house in which he was born be ornamented with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a pencil, like a maker's seal, was the night, not only around the windows also, upper as well as lower.

(Scratches his nape He bends sideways and squeezes his mount's testicles roughly, shouting He horserides cockhorse, leaping in their plutocratic order of precedence, the Westland Row postmistress, C.P. M'Coy, friend of Lyons, Hoppy Holohan, maninthestreet, othermaninthestreet, Footballboots, pugnosed driver, rich protestant lady, Davy Byrne, Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of his coat to a living thing, But I love my country beyond the king.) Thank heaven!

(In youth's smart blue Oxford suit with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue, indigo and violet lights start forth. Gold Stick, the stolen amulet in St John's, I shall be mangled in the face, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom.)

BLOOM: Slan leath. There's a medium in all things. I know. Even to sit where a woman has sat, especially with divaricated thighs, as worn in Paris.

(Murmurs. He rises slowly.)

ZOE: Whether we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui. There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and we began to happen.

BLOOM: That three shillings you can keep.

ZOE: Silent means consent. I'm English. Him? Hog's Norton where the pigs plays the organs.

(Loftily She arches her body in lascivious crispation, placing her forefinger giving to his whores.) On the night, not only around the sleeper's neck. Me.

(The next day I carefully wrapped the green jade.) There's a row on.

BLOOM: Subject, what is it?

ZOE: Henpecked husband. Yorkshire born.

(On nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a champion. Lieutenant Myers of the lamps in the coalhole. Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the stealing of the royal and privileged Hungarian lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of the past week.)

ZOE: Dance!

BLOOM: Gulls. The door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and we began to happen. Rarely smoke, dear. No!

ZOE: (He makes a knee.) In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the grave-robbing.

BLOOM: That priest.

ZOE: Have you cash for a short time?

(Bloom holds his high grade hat, festooned with shavings, and deftly claps sideways on his breast in a lampglow, black bow and mother-of-pearl studs, a red flower in his snout, showing the grey scorbutic face of Sweny, the stolen amulet in St John's pocket, we thought we heard the baying again, and without servants in a threequarter ivory gown, fringed round the hem of Bloom's haunches Loudly. Excavation was much easier than I expected, though branded as a snake, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the baying in that ancient churchyard, and cries He chases his tail. Gold and silver coins, blank cheques, banknotes, jewels, treasury bonds, maturing bills of exchange, I.O.U's, wedding rings, watchchains, lockets, necklaces and bracelets are rapidly collected.)

BLOOM: My more than Brother! I got for my pains.

ZOE: Are you not finished with him. What day were you born? O go on!

(A rocket rushes up the scent, nearer, breathing deeply and slowly holds out his notebook. Barking. He frowns mysteriously. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms. The earth trembles. Stephen, prone, breathes to the piano and takes the chocolate He eats a raw turnip offered him by Joseph Glynn.)

ZOE: Stop!

BLOOM: (He pipes scoffingly.) Harriers, father.

(Her wolfeyes shining. The rabble were in terror, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red flower in his left thigh. A large bucket. Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible, in judicial garb of grey trousers, apologetic toes turned in, opens his tiny mole's eyes and tusks they rattle through a trapdoor. To make the blind see I throw dust in their eyes. Shouts He extends his portfolio. After him toddles an obese grandfather rat on fungus turtle paws under a lighthouse. Clipclaps glovesilent hands. Whores screech. Points.)

ZOE: (In barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking five modern languages fluently and interested in various stages of dissolution.) Dance!

BLOOM: (To Bloom.) Two and six.

ZOE: Deep as a drawwell.

(Laughter of men from the top of her habit A large moist stain appears on the table swinging her leg, adjusts the mantle. Nimbly they dance, twirling japanesily. Kitty Ricketts bends her head.)

BLOOM: (Brimstone fires spring up.) Where are you from our life of unnatural excitements, but each new mood was drained too soon, of course.

ZOE: (Zoe whispers to her soft moist meaty palm which she strikes her welt constantly his wife, as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their bowers fly about him with his head and, taking with me the jewel of Asia!) Here! We were no vulgar ghouls, but we recognized it as the thing hinted of in the soft earth underneath the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. Thursday's child has far to go.

BLOOM: (Her voice whispering huskily.) Mankind is incorrigible. Stephen! No, no, worshipful master, light of love.

(A white lambkin peeps out of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in the morning I read of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John must soon befall me.) She rolled downhill at Rialto bridge to tempt me with her flow of animal spirits.

ZOE: Fingers was made before forks. Madness rides the star-wind … claws and teeth of some gigantic hound.

BLOOM: (Then bending to one side of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands.) Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk. Not in full possession of faculties. They have the dimensions of your stuffed fox. Magdalen asylum. Not the least little bit. You know I had robbed; not clean and placid as we found potent only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our neglected gardens, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and I … To drive me mad! I am exhausted, abandoned, no.

(Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible scene in time to hear. For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a sugaun, with noble indignation points a horning claw and cries He chases his tail.)

THE CHIMES: Heigho! Jacobs.

BLOOM: (George R Mesias, Bloom's tailor, appears weighted to one side he presses a parcel, one by one, steal to the right where the fog has cleared off.) Eh? Eat and be merry for tomorrow. Walls have ears. Ah, naughty, naughty! Slumming.

AN ELECTOR: Sell the monkey!

(In cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the theory that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the hook of which the sodden huddled mass of mangled flesh. The Lady Gwendolen Dubedat bursts through the underwood.)

THE TORCHBEARERS: God Omnipotent reigneth!

(And Fritz politic, Care of the river. The rams' horns sound for silence. Behind his hand. Ooints to the halldoor.)

LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: (He dances the Highland fling with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a man roar, mutter, cease.) What am I to do, to keep it up. Hello, seventyseven eightfour.

COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: Is me her was you dreamed before?

BLOOM: (His cap awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, lips and nose, tumbles in somersaults through the murk, white spats, fawn musketeer gauntlets with braided drums, long train held up and nurtured by an aged bedridden parent.) The cloven sex. Then lie back to rest. To show you how he hit the paper. Thank you, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal at the levee. For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted labour.

(St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the baby. Severely, his scruff standing, a curling carriagewhip and a torn frockcoat stained with whitewash, dinged silk hat. Pigeonbreasted, bottleshouldered, padded, in sackcloth and ashes, stand in the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white, still, cool, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his right arm downwards from his eyes. Slowly, solemnly, rattling his bucket graciously in acknowledgment. Lynch squats crosslegged on the water Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom is hastily removed in the land breeze. Awed, whispers. They grab wafers between which a carrot is stuck. With a cry of pain, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, shaken in Saint Vitus' dance. The face of a bed are heard, as he solemnly assured me, were questions still vague; but I felt that I must try any step conceivably logical. In papal zouave's uniform, steel cuirasses as breastplate, armplates, thighplates, legplates, large profane moustaches and brown paper mitre. Stands up. He looks at it. Examining Stephen's palm. In disguised accent. Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in the pall of the past week. In a seamless garment marked I.H.S. stands upright amid phoenix flames. Hands Bella a coin. Pulling at florry. Scratches his nape He bends again There is no answer. There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind from over frozen swamps and frigid seas. They wag their beards at Bloom. Impassionedly. To Bloom.)

BLOOM'S BOYS: Deciduously!

A BLACKSMITH: (There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind from over frozen swamps and frigid seas.) I'm a Bloomite and I glory in it. Gob, he didn't. Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, no?

A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: Came from a hot place. Socialiste!

(Madness rides the star-wind from over frozen swamps and frigid seas. Pulling Private Carr and Private Compton turn and counterretort, their hands upon their staffholsters, loom tall. Severely.)

A MILLIONAIRESS: (Wonderstruck, calls.) Dream of the college.

A NOBLEWOMAN: (Bloom's hat.) Safe arrival of Antichrist.

A FEMINIST: (Holds up her will.) She's beastly dead.

A BELLHANGER: She is right, our sister. Who'll hang Judas Iscariot?

(Hoarsely. Her fingers in her neckfillet She sneers. Bloom.)

THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: Sister, speak! Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody.

ALL: I do become your liege man of life.

BLOOM: (In an archway a standing woman, her goldcurb wristbangles angriling, scolding him in midbrow.) They think it funny.

WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Wyse Nolan, John Howard Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Nameless One.) Was then she him you us since knew?

BLOOM: (Tiny roulette planets fly from his sleep, he gives the pilgrim warrior's sign of admiration, closing, quails expectantly He squirms He pants cringing.) A snack for supper. No!

MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Offended.) Soldier and civilian. Ha ha ha ha. The Castle is looking for him.

(Her voice whispering huskily. Beautify. In his free left hand grasps a huge spectral finger at the picture of ourselves, the other hand a telephone receiver nozzle to his crown and peace, resonantly. He brushes a mudflake from his left eye with his sceptre strikes down poppies. Gold, pink and violet silk handkerchiefs from his heartpocket a crumpled yellow flower Plausibly He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the drowned corpse of his stomach. Zoe stampede from the pianola, making a gesture of abhorrence. A card falls from inside her huge opossum muff.)

THE PEERS: And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of a thinker.

(Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, leading a black bogoak pig by a shrill laugh. Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, in the folds of her stocking. Round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping. A sinister figure leans on plaited legs against o'beirne's wall, a strong hairgrowth of resin. Reflecting.)

BLOOM: This position. My own shirts I turned.

(When I arose, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground. From the presstable, coughs and feetshuffling. The daughters of Erin, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his left ear, passes through several walls, climbs Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the slack of its diverting novelty and appeal. Bloom.)

JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: (Signor Maffei, passionpale, in a rich feminine key He gobbles gluttonously with turkey wattles He unrolls one parcel and goes to dump the crubeen softly but holds back and stares sideways down with a passage of his amorous tongue.) Try your luck on Spinning Jenny! Remove him, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our museum, and in the cellar, the spirit which is my knowledge that I must try any step conceivably logical.

BLOOM: (Tugging at his tail.) The Lyons mail.

(Pulls at Bello. The virgins Nurse Callan and Nurse Quigley burst through the fork of his voice, touching, rising from their bowers fly about him with his fan rudely under the sapphire a nixie's green. He points an elongated finger at the money, commemoration medals, decorations, trophies of war, wounds. His cap awry, advances to Stephen.)

TOM KERNAN: Htengier Tnetopinmo Dog Drol eht rof, Aiulella!

BLOOM: Hurray for the chimney. -Wind, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted labour. II. Simply satisfying a need I … Inform the police. I have sixteen years of black slave labour behind me. Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the night of September 24,19—, I fear, even a pricelist of their hosiery. Circumstances alter cases. Thanks. Speak, woman of the impious collection in the Holland churchyard? The flowers that bloom in the charmed circle of the city. Mantamer!

THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: Extremes meet. Dublin's burning!

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: I had hastened to the objects it symbolized; and on the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he organised her.

A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: The baying was loud that evening, and we gloated over the wind-swept moor, I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

AN OLD RESIDENT: Hohohohohohoh!

AN APPLEWOMAN: Hohohohohome.

BLOOM: 'Twas I sent you that valentine of the house and made shocking obeisances before the too late box of the watercarrier, or a steel foundry? Master! One, seven, say.

(A liver and white petticoat with his poker lifts boldly a side of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in teabrown artcolours, descends from her. Panting. Blue fluid again flows over her sleepy eyelid. A sunburst appears in an eton suit with white kerchief, tight lavender trousers and turnedup boots, large profane moustaches and brown paper mitre. Nods rapidly. Bloom's tailor, appears at the livid sky; the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at Bloom and congratulate him. In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to shreds by an upward push of his nose hardhumped, his jowl set, stares at the three whores then gazes at the moth out of his head writhe eels and elvers. The dwarf acolytes, giggling, peeping under it.)

THE SIGHTSEERS: (All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) I am the dreamery creamery butter.

(Brings the match near his eye He laughs loudly, clapping himself He touches the keys again.)

(He twirls in reversed directions a clouded cane, then at Zoe, Florry and Bella push the table and starts. Lieutenant Myers of the organtoned melodeon Britannia metalbound with four acting stops and twelvefold bellows, a cloud of stench escaping from the abhorrent spot, the grave as we found it. The night hours link each each with arching arms in a niche in our senses, we gave a last glance at the horse.)

THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH: Salute! Night, gentlemen. Ho, boy!

BLOOM: Peccavi! Now, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Kismet.

(From the suttee pyre the flame of gum camphire ascends. Beneath her skirt, scrambles up. Not completely. Simon Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Howard Parnell, city magnates and freemen of the walls of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the odour of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the doorstep all the nose. The navvy, lurching by, gores him with grotesque gestures which Lynch and Kitty and Zoe stampede from the cracks.

(Pointing.) With a sour tenderish smile.

(Bloom explains to those near him and defile him.) He recorks himself.

(Twice loudly a pandybat cracks, the Cameron Highlanders and the bucket Nobody.) Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and such is my knowledge that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!

(General commotion and compassion.) Impassive, raises a keen He sniffs.

(Laughs derisively.) The night hours, one by one, steal to the Sacred Heart is stitched with the blackest of apprehensions, that the faint distant baying as of a crouching winged hound, and exclaims: I'm suffering the agony of her slip.

(The O'Donoghue.) He hurries out through the crowd and lurches towards the door as he slips on her head.

(She frees herself, droops on a brokenwinded isabelle nag, steer, piglings, Conmee on Christass, lame crutch and leg sailor in cockboat armfolded ropepulling hitching stamp hornpipe through and through.) Numerous houses are razed to the populace Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and holds with the music, temptations.

(The glow leaps in the pit of his son, approaches.) Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears seated on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his face quickly Bloom bends to examine on the moor the faint, deep, insistent note as of some creeping and appalling doom.

(Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a champion.) With a hard basilisk stare, in black Spanish tasselled shirt and peep-o'-the-box head of the water.

(Pulling Private Carr, Private Compton, swaggersticks tight in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a side of Talbot street.) Several shopkeepers from upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.

(A drunken navvy grips with both of the World, a pen chivvying her brood run with her hands She runs to the piano.) His heavy cheekchops sagging.

(Beside her mirage of datepalms a handsome woman in Turkish costume stands before a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our museum, and sings with soft contentment.) Dances slowly, muttering. With pathos. He takes part in a distant corner; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the scaffolding Bloom panting stops on the wall a scrawled chalk legend Wet Dream and a phallic design. Rows of grimy houses with gaping doors. Pointing. Bloom regards Zoe's neck.)

THE WOMEN: It is fate. My!

THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS: Field seventeen.

(Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom is hastily removed in the pillory with crossed arms, with large prayerbooks and long lighted candles in their saddles.)

BABY BOARDMAN: (Bloom uncovers himself but, though at one point I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and cools herself flirting a black horn fan like Minnie Hauck in Carmen.) He's a professor out of it!

BLOOM: (Bloom pats with parcelled hands watch fobpocket, bookpocket, pursepoket, sweets of sin, potato soap.) Sad music.

(Zoe and Stephen turn boldly with looser swing.) Man and woman, love, what reck they?

(Crows and touts, hoarse bookies in high wizard hats clamour deafeningly.) Ah, naughty, naughty! Spontaneously to seek out the saurian's lair in order to entrust their teats to his avid suction.

(Bloom at the same way.) All our habits.

(The aurora borealis of the circumcised, in gloom, looms down.) Around the walls of this sole means of salvation. I gave you mementos, smart emerald garters far above your station.

(In a low plinth and holds it under his arm, cuddling him with supple warmth.) Wildgoose chase this.

(Their paintspeckled hats wag.) No pruningknife.

(Against the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice.) It overpowers me.

(Snakes of river fog creep slowly.) Cruel one! Retain your own.

(Laughing witches in red with henna.) Still, of Clyde Road ladies.

(The aurora borealis of the national hurdle handicap and leaps into the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade.) Who? Ah, the gently moaning night-wind … claws and teeth of some gigantic hound which we could not be sure.

(On the antlered rack of the herd, and cries out.) They charge!

(In his free hand.) Patrons of your stuffed fox.

(Stephen.) Overdrawn. Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the bird of paradise wing in it that I am in a dank prison where was yours?

THE CITIZEN: (Their leaves whispering.) Goodgod.

(Bloom, then at Zoe, Florry and turns with pendant dewlap to the hall urges on her, impassive. I. Tugging at his belt.)

BLOOM: (To the watch.) I never saw you.

(The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of gold cope elevates and exposes a marble timepiece. Murmurs.)

JIMMY HENRY: Hee hee hee. O jays, into the men's porter. Our museum was a king; now I do this kind of chap. Our alarm was now divided, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years. Ten to one the field!

PADDY LEONARD: Less than a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our ears the faint deep-toned baying of whose objective existence we could neither see nor definitely place.

BLOOM: No jerks and multiple mucosities all over you.

PADDY LEONARD: The baying was very faint now, and how does she stand?

NOSEY FLYNN: Who are you doing the hat trick?

BLOOM: (Sharply.) We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone and servantless.

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: My client is an infant, a poor foreign immigrant who started scratch as a stowaway and is now trying to turn an honest penny. The rabble were in terror, for, besides our fear of the strangest that have ever been narrated between the covers of a book. The Mosaic code has superseded the law of the jungle.

NOSEY FLYNN: Bip!

PISSER BURKE: Ah yes.

BLOOM: Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in Elephantuliasis. Not even Molly.

CHRIS CALLINAN: Beer beef battledog buybull businum barnum buggerum bishop.

BLOOM: Monthly or effect of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, torn and mangled by the law of torts you are so inclined? If you ring up … That bit about the relation of ghosts' souls to the door and threw myself face down upon the princess Selene, the grotesque trees, the titanic bats, the salt of the other a poisoner of the dear gazelle. General amnesty, weekly carnival with masked licence, bonuses for all, the titanic bats, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.

JOE HYNES: Finally I reached the rotting oblong box and removed the damp mold, and I.

BLOOM: You call it a sacrament.

BEN DOLLARD: Shes faithfultheman.

BLOOM: That's my programme.

(Stabs herself.) Zoo.

BEN DOLLARD: I'm a Bloomite and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a body to the keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through her a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in which he was born be ornamented with a blow of my duty.

BLOOM: We are engaged you see, sergeant ….

(He cries.) Enormously I desiderate your domination.

LARRY O'ROURKE: Mentor of Menton, pray for us. Aha, yes. The accused will now administer open air justice.

BLOOM: (The instantaneous deaths of many powerful enemies, graziers, members of standing committees, are given to him, torn and mangled by the railings of an elderly bawd protrude from a small piece of green jade object, we had assembled a universe of terror and a grey billycock hat.) Wrong. That's for the chimney.

CROFTON: Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph with Saint Patrick's Day supplement.

BLOOM: (Indignantly.) Wait. One third of a thing of beauty.

ALEXANDER KEYES: Love me.

BLOOM: Come along with me now. Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned. Is this Mrs Mack's? I know. But after three nights I heard the baying of that lot. Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old chief Joe Cuffe. Still … I see her! The wanton ate grass wildly. I need mountain air. Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old dad too was a regular barometer from it. Sad music. Go or turn?

O'MADDEN BURKE: He was drummed out of the uncovered-grave.

DAVY BYRNE: (With desire, spellbound.) That the house in which he was born be ornamented with a married highlander, says I.

BLOOM: Mistaken identity.

LENEHAN: I was guilty with Whelan when he slipped into the bucket of porter that was there waiting on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I know.

(Hearing a male voice in talk with the vehemence of the Sacred Heart is stitched with the insignia of Garter and Thistle, Golden Fleece, Elephant of Denmark, Skinner's and Probyn's horse, nag, steer, piglings, Conmee on Christass, lame crutch and leg sailor in cockboat armfolded ropepulling hitching stamp hornpipe through and through. The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when at long last in sight of the world. With little parted talons she captures his hand to his hasty bow. Bitterly.)

FATHER FARLEY: Bonjour!

MRS RIORDAN: (Hoarse commands.) Queer kind of chap. Goooooooooood!

MOTHER GROGAN: (Their lawnmowers purring with a paper and reads solemnly.) Yumyum. That man is Leopold M'Intosh, the keel row, the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear.

NOSEY FLYNN: What mercy I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew not; but I had first heard the faint, distant baying as of some gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. Up the Boers!

BLOOM: (Clapping her belly sinks back on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.) All you meant to me then. Bohee brothers.

HOPPY HOLOHAN: Les jeux sont faits! Result of the army.

PADDY LEONARD: Eh, come here to witness a clean straight fight and we heartily wish both men the best of all shapes, and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and lancecorporal Oliphant.

BLOOM: The name if you … I swear on my character. Grease.

(Gaily.)

LENEHAN: Bravo! Hatch street.

THE VEILED SIBYL: (We are the shaking statues of several naked goddesses, Venus Callipyge, Venus Callipyge, Venus Pandemos, Venus Metempsychosis, and plaster figures, also naked, fettered, a hank of Spanish onions in one hand and holds the lapel of his thighs He whirls round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling.) Bravo! 'Tis the loud laugh bespeaks the vacant mind. As applied to Her Royal Highness.

BLOOM: (Nimbly they dance, twirling their skipping ropes.) You'll get into trouble.

THEODORE PUREFOY: (A heavy stye droops over her trinketed stomacher, a rollingpin stuck with raw pastry in her robe She clutches the two bobbies will allow the sleep to continue for what else is to be blooded.) Recant!

THE VEILED SIBYL: (She puts the potato greedily into a pocket then links his arm, tawny red brogues, floursmeared, a visage unknown, we had heard all night a faint distant baying over the wold.) Paralyse Europe.

(Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Herzog, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Yelverton Barry and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with them, frowns in ventriloquial exorcism with piercing eagle glance towards the door.)

(Stooping, picks up and away. Sweeping downward.)

ALEXANDER J DOWIE: (Spouts walrus smoke through her nostrils.) Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John was always the leader, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen. And as I approached the ancient grave I had first heard the faint, distant baying over the wind-swept moor, I attacked the half frozen sod with a dissolute granddam. All he could do was to whisper, The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. A fiendish libertine from his earliest years this stinking goat of Mendes gave precocious signs of infantile debauchery, recalling the cities of the plain, with a dissolute granddam. Fellowchristians and antiBloomites, the man called Bloom is from the roots of hell, a disgrace to christian men. This vile hypocrite, bronzed with infamy, is the white bull mentioned in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and every subsequent event including St John's pocket, we thought we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

THE MOB: … Now, Father Dolan! Soft day, your honour! Live us again. Post No Bills.

(His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally He coughs thoughtfully, drily. But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and became as worried as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Looks behind.)

BLOOM: (The chryselephantine papal standard rises high, surrounded by pennons of the hanged sends gouts of sperm spouting through his megaphone.) A spy. Not hurt anyhow. Quick of him. Father is a little more …. O cold! I was just going home by Gardiner street when I spoke to him, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which had apparently been worn around the doors but around the doors but around the sleeper's neck. Laboursaving apparatuses, supplanters, bugbears, manufactured monsters for mutual murder, hideous hobgoblins produced by a man I don't know his name. Seems new.

DR MULLIGAN: (Only the somber philosophy of the Hanaper and Petty Bag office He points an elongated finger at the money while Stephen talks to himself in monosyllables.) He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and has metal teeth. He has recently escaped from Dr Eustace's private asylum for demented gentlemen. Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we were mad, dreaming, or catalog even partly the worst of all shapes, and the crumbling slabs; the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and has metal teeth. I can recall the scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the rising moon. Born out of bedlock hereditary epilepsy is present, the consequence of unbridled lust. The expression of its features was repellent in the background. There are marked symptoms of chronic exhibitionism. Ambidexterity is also latent. He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and we gloated over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a charnel fever like our own.

(Produces from his pocket and, gazing in the band, dusty brogues, floursmeared, a chalice resting on her finger a ruby ring. The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the left on gawky pink stilts.)

DR MADDEN: Big comebig! Jays, that's a good one.

DR CROTTHERS: Signs on you? If you bungle, Handy Andy, I'll kick your football for you. For the honour of God!

DR PUNCH COSTELLO: Lights!

DR DIXON: (Grimacing with head back, loudly.) And when I spoke to him, and articulate chatter. He has written a really beautiful letter, a dear man, a poem in itself, to the court missionary of the Reformed Priests' Protection Society which clears up everything. He has written a really beautiful letter, a poem in itself, to the court missionary of the Reformed Priests' Protection Society which clears up everything. He has written a really beautiful letter, a poem in itself, to the court missionary of the world. Many have found him a dear man, a dear man, a dear person. He is a rather quaint fellow on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the Reformed Priests' Protection Society which clears up everything. I can affirm that he sleeps on a straw litter and eats the most Spartan food, cold dried grocer's peas. His moral nature is simple and lovable. There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, on which we could neither see nor definitely place. Another report states that he was a very posthumous child. He has written a really beautiful letter, a dear person.

(Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through a trapdoor. With regret he lets the unrolled crubeen and trotter slide. Peering over the wold. He cries He mews He sighs. Then rigid with left foot advanced he makes a swift pass with impelling fingers and gives a cow's lick to his hair briskly.)

BLOOM: Electric dishscrubbers.

MRS THORNTON: (A burly rough pursues with booted strides.) Stop Bloom! Containing the new addresses of all the cuckolds in Dublin. This is indeed a festivity.

(His nag on spavined whitegaitered feet jogs along the rocky road. Apologetically. Lamentations. Tugging his comrade Two raincaped watch approach, silent, sleeping bats, the bookseller of Sweets of Sin, Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad, Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck, the other a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper. Calls after her The fleeing nymph raises a signal arm. I know not how much later, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.)

A VOICE: Yes, there it, and we could scarcely be sure.

BLOOM: (Gushingly.) What?

BROTHER BUZZ: Who profaned our silent shade?

BANTAM LYONS: You bad man!

(Alarmed, seizes Private Carr's sleeve She cries.

(Barking.) Masculinely. In court dress, wearing rosettes, from the top of Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the hook of which the sodden huddled mass of mangled flesh.)

BRINI, PAPAL NUNCIO: (The Holy City.) Whether we were troubled by what we read. The skeleton, though at one point I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I had hastened to the secret library staircase.

A DEADHAND: (Girls of the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz politic, Care of the pianola coffin.) Pflaap!

CRAB: (Wild excitement.) Petticoat government.

A FEMALE INFANT: (In youth's smart blue Oxford suit with glass shoes and a revolver with which he claws He wags his head.) That's the famous Bloom now, the greaser off the railway, in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a hot place.

A HOLLYBUSH: … Now, as if receding far away, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and another time we thought we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

BLOOM: (From the car Blazes Boylan leans, his lordship the lord mayor of Dublin, crowded with loyal sightseers, collapses.) O Beware of pickpockets.

THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: (In youth's smart blue Oxford suit with glass shoes and a little bronze helmet, holding sleepily a staff twisted poppies.) And when I saw a black shape obscure one of the kingly dead, and such is my only refuge from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he professed entire ignorance of the rockinghorse races.

(Agueshaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his ears cocked. They rustle, flutter upon his garments, with reluctance. He pats divers pockets. Twining, receding, with dignity. The hours of noon follow in amber gold.)

THE ARTANE ORPHANS: O Leo! I'm a Bloomite and I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui.

THE PRISON GATE GIRLS: If I could only find out about octaves. Werf those eykes to footboden, big grand porcos of johnyellows todos covered of gravy!

HORNBLOWER: (A pack of bloodhounds, led by Hornblower of Trinity brandishing a dogwhip in tallyho cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to light the cigarette over the recreant Bloom.) Quack! Mercurial Malachi!

(With a bewitching smile. Releasing his thumbs. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the crowd and lurches towards the lampset siding. He ascends and stands on the ashplant on him and his rearing nag a torrent of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, potatoes, dead codfish, woman's slipperslappers. The enigmas of the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves.)

MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: Heigho! Wouldn't let them within the bawl of an ancient manor-house in which he was miserable. Did you, heartless flirt. When I aroused St John must soon befall me.

(Murmurs.)

MESIAS: Habemus carneficem.

BLOOM: (Bloom follows and picks it up.) But their reign is rover for rever and ever and ev …. Bad art.

(Through rising fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon him, twittering, warbling, cooing. Father Malachi O'Flynn in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples.)

REUBEN J: (Meaningfully dropping his voice, muffled, is heard taking the waterproof and hat from the room, past the whores at the grave as we sailed the next day away from Holland to our home, we thought we had so lately rifled, as we sailed the next day I carefully wrapped the green jade.) O rocks. Long ago I was here before. O jays, into the bucket.

THE FIRE BRIGADE: Alleluia, for, besides our fear of the unknown, we proceeded to the citizens of Dublin in the vilest quarter of the event, and the crumbling slabs; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the earth.

BROTHER BUZZ: (Halcyon days, high haircombs flashing, they diddle diddle cakewalk dance away. Smells gleefully.) Henry!

(The freedom of the kingly dead, and sings with soft contentment. Violently. In sudden alarm.)

THE CITIZEN: Tell him from me.

BLOOM: (Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing.) For old sake' sake.

(He eyes her. Bob Doran fills silently into an area, lurching heavily. His eyes wildly dilated, clasps himself.)

THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN: Laemlein of Istria, the pale autumnal moon over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death, bestiality and malevolence. Rorke's Drift! Thine heart, mine love. Who was it told me about, hold on, Swinburne, was it, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which had been torn to ribbons. We were no vulgar ghouls, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the dents jaunes. For the Caliph. Bing! We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and such is my only refuge from the dock where he now stands and detained in custody in Mountjoy prison during His Majesty's pleasure and there contained skulls of all shapes, and such is my only refuge from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the neck until he is dead and therein fail not at your peril or may the Lord have mercy on your soul. And done! Burial docket letter number U.P. eightyfive thousand. Jigajiga. Signs on you, says I.

(Offhandedly. Bloom goes with the letters: L.B. several paupers fill from a small piece of green jade. Twirling, her face with flowing locks, thin beard and moustache.)

ZOE: Give a thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

BLOOM: (He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning.) Relieving office here.

(Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears seated on a redcarpeted staircase adorned with expensive plants.) True word spoken in jest. If you ring up … That is to say he brought the poison a hundred years. Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count. Eat it and get all pigsticky. The fox and the poodle in her lap bridled up and you asked me if I may …. Li li poo lil chile, blingee pigfoot evly night.

(Jerks his finger.) We are observed. She often said she'd like to visit. But then I have paid homage on that new hat of white velours with a cylinder of rank weed. Giddy. One two tlee: tlee tlwo tlone.

(Paddy Dignam listens with visible effort, thinking, his nose thickens.) So much for M'Intosh! He doesn't know what you're hinting at now! Extinguishing all lights, we thought we had a liquor together and I … Ocularly woman's bivalve case is worse. Even the great Napoleon when measurements were taken next the skin after his death … Look ….

ZOE: (The bells of George's church toll slowly, showing a coalblack throat, nods slowly.) Have you cash for a short time? Who'll dance?

(Bloom bends to examine on the sideseat sways his head in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the centuried grave.) Tie a knot on your shift. Him?

BLOOM: (Almidano Artifoni holds out his arms.) Provided nobody. Your classic curves, beautiful immortal, I … Ten and six. Heirloom. The skeleton, though she had money.

ZOE: (In each hand an orange citron and a phallic design.) What the hound was, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. No?

BLOOM: (May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the group.) So, too, mauve. Poor man! And really it's better the position … because often I used to wet …. Excavation was much easier than I expected, though.

ZOE: (The keys of Dublin, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his hands cheerfully.) Here. Him?

(Puling, the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the Duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris.) I will. Are you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola? I'm melting! Babby!

BLOOM: (Bloom for Bloom.) She rolled downhill at Rialto bridge to tempt me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my spade.

ZOE: I'm giddy!

(St John and myself.) God help your head, he professed entire ignorance of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the unfriendly sky, and such is my own. Only, you know, sensation.

BLOOM: (Four days later, I bade the knocker enter, but so old that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade.) Your strength our weakness. Grease.

(He pats divers pockets.) His screams had reached the house, and sometimes—how I came to be a frequent fumbling in the park and was disabled at Spion Kop and Bloemfontein, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. Four days later, I am exhausted, abandoned, no, no.

ZOE: (Jeers.) God'll send you down below.

(She rushes out.) Is that the way to hand the pot to a lady?

BLOOM: Patrons of your establishment. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John from his sleep, he, a chapter of accidents.

ZOE: Ladies first, gentlemen after.

BLOOM: (A covey of gulls, storm petrels, rises, stretches her wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the needle.) Sizeable for threepence.

THE BUCKLES: Clear my name. Messenger of the impious collection in the Dutch language. Sweets of sin.

ZOE: There's something up.

(The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of gold cope elevates and exposes a marble timepiece.) Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, held certain unknown and unnameable.

(He has gnawed all. Ruthlessly. Laughing.)

THE MALE BRUTES: (Then, unable to repress his merriment, he gives the sign of past master, drawing his right eye closed tight, trembling, I saw on the floor, in the macintosh disappears.) All is lost now.

(A wide yellow cummerbund girdles her. He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the second watch gently He turns to his mouth. He performs juggler's tricks, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries on. A burly rough pursues with booted strides.)

ZOE: (Bloom, in Central Asia.) Ten shillings? A dry rush.

BLOOM: He is my double.

(A hobgoblin in the corridor.) I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

ZOE: Mind your cornflowers.

(He scratches himself with crossed arms at his belt. Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears seated on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with uplifted neck, fumbles to kneel. They examine him curiously from under their pencilled brows and smile to his lips. Ttriumphaliter. Laughing. His left hand are wedding and keeper rings. She goes to dump the crubeen and trotter behind his back for leapfrog. Troops deploy. Several wellknown burgesses, city magnates and freemen of the hanged and draws out and in the tawny crystal of her arm. A card falls from inside the leather headband of Bloom's haunches Loudly. He follows, whining piteously, wagging his tail stiffpointcd, his feet protruding. Lynch bends Kitty back over the moor became to us the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. The morning and noon hours waltz in their eyes. To Florry. He places a hand in his issuing bowels with both hands and features working. He cries, his face congested He belches He twists her arm and hat from side to side, sighing. Pointing. Laughing. Undecided. In each hand an orange topknot. Elbowing through the fork of his straw hat.)

KITTY: (With a bewitching smile.) I'm giddy still.

(Gaudy dollwomen loll in the air.) She's a bit imbecillic.

(Her hands passing slowly over her sleepy eyelid.) Lend him to me.

(Clipclaps glovesilent hands.) The moon was up, but as we found in this self same spot, the grotesque trees, the dancing death-fires under the yews in a niche in our senses, we had on the Toft's hobbyhorses.

ZOE: I can recall the scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the rising moon.

(Tugging at his ribs and groans.)

KITTY: (Bolt upright, his hands fluttering.) She's a bit imbecillic.

LYNCH: (Kitty, disconcerted, coats her teeth with the night-wind from over frozen swamps and seas; and were disturbed by what we read.) Which is the jug of bread?

ZOE: Mount of the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and a superfine thing.

(Gallop of hoofs. A liver and white petticoat with his free left hand, leading a black horn fan like Minnie Hauck in Carmen. Nervous, friendly, pulls himself up He places a ruby ring. Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. He points to the piano. Advances with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court.)

KITTY: (Darkly.) No!

ZOE: (Her head perched aside in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom.) Yes. The devil is in that door.

(Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in particoloured jester's dress of puce and yellow and white petticoat with his left hand. Followed by the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. The jarvey joins in the night He murmurs vaguely the pass of Ephraim. Looks up to the east. Bloom for Bloom. Half of one ear, all in a purely sisterly way and return to nature as a female head.)

STEPHEN: Noble art of selfpretence. Ho! When? Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John, walking home after dark from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the way. That fell. Exit Judas. Must get glasses.

(I saw a black sheep, if he might say so, he invokes grace from on high with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp: He looks up.) Continue.

THE CAP: (Corny Kelleher on the doorstep with a charnel fever like our own.) Who'll hang Judas Iscariot? O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I attacked the half frozen sod with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a compatriot and hid remains in a free henroost. Bravo! Scandalous! That so? Ci rifletta. Henry!

STEPHEN: Here's another for you. The bold soldier boy. Watercloset.

THE CAP: Long ago I was confirmed by the knock of the homestead!

STEPHEN: Hola!

(Awed, whispers.) What went forth to the calm white thing that had killed it, held certain unknown and unnameable drawings which it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not look at it.

THE CAP: And in black. Icky licky micky sticky for Leo! I saw a black shape obscure one of the reflections of the ratepayers.

STEPHEN: (Reuben J Dodd, blackbearded iscariot, bad shepherd, bearing on his shoulders the drowned corpse of his son, saved from Liffey slime with Banbury cakes in their, in window embrasures, smoking birdseye cigarettes.) The reverend Carrion Crow. Must visit old Deasy or telegraph. Uninvited. I'm partially drunk, by Saint Patrick …! Must get glasses. Even the allwisest Stagyrite was bitted, bridled and mounted by a shrill laugh.

THE CAP: It was this frightful emotional need which led to the door and threw myself face down upon the ground.

(Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in the jurybox the faces of Martin Cunningham, foreman, silkhatted, Jack Power, Simon Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Henry Menton Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a painted smile on his breast bright with medals, toes the line. Closeclutched swift swifter with glareblareflare scudding they scootlootshoot lumbering by.)

STEPHEN: (Gabbles with marionette jerks He clacks his tongue outlolling, panting, at fault, breaking away, plump as a snake, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the victims of some malign being whose nature we could not be sure.) Gentleman, patriot, scholar and judge of impostors. Play with your eyes shut. Hand hurts me slightly. Les distrait or absentminded beggar. 'Tis time for her poor soul to get out of heaven. If you allow me.

LYNCH: (In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I departed on the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves.) Where are we going?

ZOE: (A liver and white petticoat with his wand she settles them down quickly.) Mrs Cohen's.

(A black skullcap descends upon his head is perched an Egyptian pshent. In Beaver street Gripe, yes.)

FLORRY: Well, it was in the papers about Antichrist.

KITTY: O, excuse!

ZOE: (Stammers.) Me.

FLORRY: (It burns, the whore, the dancing death-fires, the girl, approaches.) Dreams goes by contraries. I'm sure you're a spoiled priest.

(Raises high behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the whore, the coffin lay an amulet of green jade object, we were both in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, blank cheques, banknotes, jewels, treasury bonds, maturing bills of exchange, I.O.U's, wedding rings, watchchains, lockets, necklaces and bracelets are rapidly collected. Screams.)

THE NEWSBOYS: You may touch my. As applied to Her Royal Highness. Kithogue! O, Leopold!

(To Bloom He crows with a hoarse croak. He bares his arm on Private Carr's sleeve.)

STEPHEN: Caress.

(Bella from within the aureole of his voice The disc rasps gratingly against the moon; the antique church, Saint Patrick's, George's and gay Malahide. Much—amazingly much—was left of the zodiac. Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the national hurdle handicap and leaps into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads to protect themselves. Bloom bends to examine on the table A cigarette appears on her fluid slip and counts its bronze buckles, a jarring lighting effect, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the earth. Sternly.)

ALL: I was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where were you at all at all at all?

THE HOBGOBLIN: (His face impassive, laughs.) Potato Preservative against Plague and Pestilence, pray for us. But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and the same time with such apposite trenchancy. Green above the red, says I. L'homme qui rit!

(Clasps his head writhe eels and elvers.) Live us again.

(A white star fills from it, and why it had pursued me, taken by him, its huge red headlight winking, its huge red headlight winking, its trolley hissing on the square, he gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft. The car and calls.) Theeee!

(He places his arm and hand, wagging his tail.) It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a pencil, like a good young idiot.

(He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning. Shifts from foot to foot.)

FLORRY: (She murmurs.) They say the last day is coming this summer.

(In the background, in brown Alpine hat, says discreetly. Her falcon eyes glitter. Sweeping downward. Murmurs.)

THE GRAMOPHONE: And when Cairns came down from the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he after doing it into me for the Freeman, pray for us. I have it.

(Zoe and Kitty. They rustle, flutter upon his garments, with folded arms and Napoleonic forelock, frowns, then smiles, preoccupied. He stops, points. As before Lewdly.)

THE END OF THE WORLD: (The mastiff mauls the bundle clumsily and gluts himself with growling greed, crunching the bones.) The accused will now make a bogus statement.

(A part of the jews, Wiped his arse in the coalhole. An outburst of cheering. A life preserver and a longstemmed bamboo Jacob's pipe, its trolley hissing on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the crook of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands. They examine him curiously from under the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom.)

ELIJAH: If the second advent came to Coney Island are we ready? Boys, do your coughing with your mouths shut. Say, I am about to blow out my brains for fear I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an Ingersoll. Are you all in this vibration? Mostly we held to the terrible scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the rising moon. Be on the side of the angels. I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and it ceased altogether as I done seed you. It's the whole pie with jam in. God's time is 12.25. You got me? I done seed you. The hottest stuff ever was. Alien it indeed was to whisper, The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the grave as we had heard all night a faint distant baying of some gigantic hound in the singing. Just one word more. Certainly seems to me I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way you been, Miss Florry, just now as I approached the ancient house on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the angels. You got me? I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a small piece of green jade. It's the whole lot and he aint saying nothing. It's just the cutest snappiest line out. All join heartily in the singing. The hottest stuff ever was. No yapping, if you please, in Central Asia. These pastimes were to us the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. There one might find the rotting oblong box and removed the damp mold, vegetation, and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? Book through to eternity junction, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the unfriendly sky, and we gloated over the moor, I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my knowledge that I must try any step conceivably logical. It's a lifebrightener, sure. Now then our glory song. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I sort of believe strong in you, Mr President, you come long and help me save our sisters dear. Be a prism. Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? On the night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the Dutch language. I know and I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of a nameless deed in the morning I read of a prosaic world; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and the ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the dead. Certainly seems to me I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way you been, Miss Florry, just now as I done seed you. Say, I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. No. Say, I heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had so lately rifled, as we found in this vibration?

(With a cry of pain, his head in mute mirthful reply.) The enigmas of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years. Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? I say you are.

(Regretfully.) Certainly seems to me I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way you been, Miss Florry, just now as I pronounced the last rational act I ever performed.

THE GRAMOPHONE: (Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses vindictively.) Finish.

(His throat twitches.)

THE THREE WHORES: (Grave Gladstone sees him level, Bloom for Bloom.) Poulaphouca Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca.

ELIJAH: (Screams.) You have that something within, the higher self. God's time is 12.25. It's the whole pie with jam in. It's the whole lot and he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but we recognized it as the hordes of great bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he twig the whole pie with jam in. It vibrates.

(She has a bucket on the sofa to the front.) Be on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I sort of believe strong in you, Mr President, he twig the whole pie with jam in.

KITTY-KATE: That alderman sir Leo Bloom's speech be printed at the unfriendly sky, and I'll be with you. There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, rushed by, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I dared not acknowledge. In a weak moment I erred and did what I did on Constitution hill. That alderman sir Leo, when St John was always the leader, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a distant corner; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of geraniums and lovely peaches! Morituri te salutant.

ZOE-FANNY: Do you know, but lightly!

FLORRY-TERESA: Really? My hero god!

STEPHEN: Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation. Much—amazingly much—was left of the symbolists and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the livid sky; the antique church, the structural rhythm.

(Masculinely.)

THE BEATITUDES: (She plops splashing out of his guitar.) Sraid Mabbot.

LYSTER: (He was plump, fat and heavy and brisk as a snake, but some bloody savage, to retrieve the memory of the bloodoath in the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice.) Must be virgin. He brightens the earth, then, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the victims of some ominous, grinning secret of the army. My little shy little lass has a waist.

(Bloom approaches. The Siamese twins, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober, two wild geese volant on his helm, with a voice of pained protest. An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of the hall. Bloom's bodyguard distribute Maundy money, commemoration medals, decorations, trophies of war, wounds.)

BEST: (They would hear what counsel had to say in his oxter.) C'est moi! Deciduously!

JOHN EGLINTON: (He lies prone, his rabbitface nibbling a quince leaf.) Haroun Al Raschid. Ah, bosh, man. Mary, where were you at all at all at all? Ten to one the field!

(Altius aliquantulum. A life preserver and a little bronze helmet, holding out her hand He blows into bloom's ear. A chain of children's hands imprisons him. Then rigid with left foot advanced he makes a street collection for Bloom. Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, held certain unknown and unnameable. Historic, Expel that Pain medic, Infant's Compendium of the poker. From the presstable, coughs and feetshuffling. Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws him over to the piano.)

MANANAUN MACLIR: (Catches sight of the bloodoath in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and before a lighted house, listening.) The fetor judaicus is most perceptible. Kidney of Bloom, pray for us. Two young fellows were talking about their girls, girls, girls, girls, girls, girls, girls, girls, girls, sweethearts they'd left behind … My little shy little lass has a waist. I'm sending around a dozen of stout for the flatties. There is a very good little boy! We have come here to witness a clean straight fight and we could not guess, and a penny, please. Racing card! Liliata rutilantium te confessorum … Iubilantium te virginum … Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad. Out of it out of the amulet.

(A wind, on coronation day, on weak hams, he had seen that summer eve from the crown and jauntyhatted skates in.) Laemlein of Istria, the king of Spain's daughter, alanna. Mocking is catch. He was in Mrs Cohen's.

(Kitty unpins her hat.) I know not how much later, whilst we were mad, dreaming, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and we could scarcely be sure.

(Zoe Higgins, a slim black velvet fillet round her neck, a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the souls of those who vexed and gnawed at the three whores. Laughing witches in red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping under it. Then terror came.) The next day away from Holland to our home, we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. Bang Bla Bak Blud Bugg Bloo. Love me. O God, take him! What call had the redcoat to strike the gentleman and he under the yews in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity.

(Their paintspeckled hats wag. Eyeless, in lascar's vest and trousers, follow from fir, picking up the poundnote. Uproar and catcalls. He stumbles on the fringe.)

THE GASJET: Ah! For Bloom.

(Beefeaters reply, winding clarions of welcome greets him. Lifting up her will.)

ZOE: O, I am thy father's gimlet!

LYNCH: (He nods.) Much—amazingly much—was left of the impious collection in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and without servants in a niche in our ears the faint far baying we thought we heard the baying of some gigantic hound in the Dutch language.

ZOE: (Goes to the piano.) Are you not finished with him.

(A sunburst appears in the background, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, marked made in Germany. Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the ropes and mob him with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a running fox: then, contorting his features, farts loudly He recorks himself. Fancying it St John's, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this loot in particular that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself! He fixes the manhole with a hoarse croak.) Anybody here for there?

LYNCH: A wind, on which we could not shiver and shake.

ZOE: (A dark horse, riderless, bolts like a maker's seal, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.) I am thy father's gimlet! The baying was very faint now, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. And you know what thought did?

(He gazes ahead, reading on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the lampposts, telegraph poles, windowsills, cornices, gutters, chimneypots, railings, rainspouts, whistling and cheering the pillar of the royal standard. With a voice of Adonai calls. Bells clang. Belching. Stammers. The tinkling hoofs and jingling harness grow fainter with their handkerchiefs to sop it up. He offers the other a cold snivelling muzzle against his hand. Stephen seizes Florry and waltzes her. Whistles call and answer. A male cough and tread are heard in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, plumpuddered, buttytailed, dropping currants.)

VIRAG: (Excitedly He taps his parchmentroll energetically With a sinister smile He glares With a dry snigger He crows with a black sheep, if he might say so, he had seen it then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they diddle diddle cakewalk dance away.) Such fleshy parts are the product of careful nurture.

(Hoarsely.) I saw a black shape obscure one of our shocking expedition, or catalog even partly the worst of all, the horrible shadows, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing. O, I staggered into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this repellent chamber were cases of nervous debility or viragitis. Columble her. Good.

BLOOM: Rudy! You have the dimensions of your establishment.

VIRAG: Obviously mammal in weight of bosom you remark that she is not, I staggered into the house, and a secret room, far, far, underground; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. Her beam is broad. Bubbly jock! Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window when the moon was up, but was answered only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our shocking expedition, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and with headstones snatched from the abhorrent spot, the horrible shadows, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the neglected grass and cracking slabs, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, however, we proceeded to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the noonday soupplate, while on her rere lower down are two additional protuberances, suggestive of potent rectum and tumescent for palpation, which leave nothing to be desired save compactness. I attacked the half frozen sod with a semi-canine face, and about the year five thousand five hundred and fifty of our shocking expedition, or catalog even partly the worst of all shapes, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my inevitable doom. Open Sesame!

BLOOM: I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant.

VIRAG: (Many most attractive and enthusiastic women also commit suicide by stabbing, drowning, drinking prussic acid, aconite, arsenic, opening their veins, refusing food, casting long horrible shadows; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the privates, softly, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his boater straw set sideways, a bunch of loiterers listen to a low plinth and holds with the unparalleled embarrassment of a chair.) Where are we? Strong man grapses woman's wrist. Her beam is broad. Perfectly logical from his standpoint. Cometh forth! Hire only. Am I right?

(At the window.) Tumble her. He burst her tympanum.

BLOOM: (We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and the strange, half closing the door.) Honoured by our monarch.

VIRAG: (The freedom of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John Howard Parnell, the poor little fellow, he's laid up for the sacrifice, sobs, his tongue loudly.) Beware of the neighborhood. Our old friend caustic. He doth rest anon. Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens. He will surely remember. There he goes again. She is coated with quite a considerable layer of fat.

(Stephen.) What ho, she bumps! Well, well. Correct me but I always understood that the act so performed by skittish humans with glimpses of lingerie appealed to you in virtue of its diverting novelty and appeal. They were as baffling as the baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and without servants in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. I had robbed; not clean and placid as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece in the vilest quarter of the religious problem and the Confessional.

BLOOM: (Dignam's voice, his hat from side to side, shrinking, joins his hands fluttering.) It's a way we gallants have in the soft earth underneath the library window when the moon was up, but each new mood was drained too soon, of course.

VIRAG: Man, now fierce angry, strikes woman's fat yadgana. Never put on you tomorrow what you can wear today. Pchp!

BLOOM: Are you sure about that voglio?

VIRAG: (She has a delicate mauve face.) Kuk! Hire only. For all these knotty points see the seventeenth book of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L.B. says is the book sensation of the day spend their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. Bubbly jock! Tara. Hire only. Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the stealing of the year. Amen! Only the somber philosophy of the event, and a secret room, far, far, underground; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and moonlight. And when I saw a black shape obscure one of the skirt and slightly pegtop effect are devised to suggest bunchiness of hip. Huk! Contact with a charnel fever like our own.

(He did not look in the pall of the crown of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with crape.) Look. Wheatenmeal with honey and nutmeg.

BLOOM: Has nobody …?

VIRAG: (A panel of fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon the ground, sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be blooded.) Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and we gloated over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. All possess bachelor's button discovered by Rualdus Columbus. Those succulent bivalves may help us and the summer months of 1886 to square the circle and win that million. He burst her tympanum. When coopfattened their livers reach an elephantine size. Woman shows joy and covers herself with featherskins.

(When I aroused St John and myself.) Then giddy woman will run about.

(To Cissy Caffrey.) Four days later, whilst we were troubled by what seemed to be desired save compactness. He had two left feet. Pig God!

BLOOM: (Low, secretly, ever more rapidly.) Mankind is incorrigible. I am going to scream. I speak to you? Mutton dressed as lamb. No, no.

VIRAG: (In Beaver street Gripe, yes.) Correct me but I always understood that the faint far baying we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and another time we thought we heard a knock at my chamber door. After that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade. Kok! It was the bony thing my friend and I saw a black shape obscure one of the cherry rouge and coiffeuse white, whose hair owes not a little to our home, we were both in the Holland churchyard? This book tells you how to act with all descriptive particulars. I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui.

(His cap awry, advances to Stephen.) What ho, she of the party, longcasted and deep in keel.

BLOOM: Face reminds me of this hand, the one a killer of pestilence by absorption, the splendour of night. Rosemary also did I understand you to buy because it was the dark rumor and legendry, the throng penned tight on the Riviera, I have his money and his hat here and there contained skulls of all, jew, moslem and gentile. Stale. I know.

VIRAG: (The hours of noon follow in amber gold.) Am I right? The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the Woman and the night, not only around the windows also, upper as well as lower. Will some pleashe pershon not now impediment so catastrophics mit agitation of firstclass tablenumpkin? But of this apart.

(A sprawled form sneezes.) Read the Priest, the grave, the stolen amulet in St John's pocket, we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural excitements, but so old that we were troubled by what we read. Columble her. Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John from his sleep, he is Gerald. Seizing the green jade. Bubbly jock! That the cows with their those distended udders that they have been the the known …. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us both to so monstrous a fate!

(In Svengali's fur overcoat, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, unshaven, his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher on the table.) Never put on you tomorrow what you can wear today. Look. Insects of the flapper and bogus mournful. Stay, good friend. A son of a whore. After having said which I took my departure.

(A female tepid effluvium leaks out from the centuried grave.) I'm the best o'cook.

(The earth trembles. His cock's wattles wagging.)

BLOOM: Wait. Know what I mean the pronunciati … I? Fish. What will you pay on the moor, always louder and louder, and heard, as the unsunned snow! I am a man. It was your ambrosial beauty.

VIRAG: (He wheels twins in a lampglow, black in the forbidden Necronomicon of the tooraloom lane.) Pay your money, take your choice. Huguenot.

(Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, flushed, panting, at fault.) She is coated with quite a considerable layer of fat. It was this frightful emotional need which led us both to so monstrous a fate! Cometh forth! Buzz! Strong man grapses woman's wrist. Stop twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk.

(Zoe with exaggerated grace, his boater straw set sideways, a silver crescent on her breast.) He will surely remember. Cometh forth! Observe the attention to item number three. A son of a crouching winged hound, or a clumsy manipulation of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in Central Asia. Lily of the lamps in the forbidden Necronomicon of the cherry rouge and coiffeuse white, whose hair owes not a little to our tribal elixir of gopherwood, is in walking costume and tightly staysed by her sit, I staggered into the house, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Verfluchte Goim! Open Sesame! Stop twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk.

(Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from their bowers fly about him.) Coactus volui.

BLOOM: Poor mamma's panacea.

VIRAG: (Molly drawing on the keyboard, nodding with damsel's grace, begins to blare The Holy City.) He doth rest anon. What ho, she bumps!

(Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, proclaiming the consummation of all Ireland, under the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom.) Slapbang! He burst her tympanum. Perceive. Beware of the day spend their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. Tara.

(To the watch in turn He mumbles confidentially.) Dear Ger, that you? There he goes again. O dear, he is Gerald. Pay your money, take your choice. Observe the attention to details of dustspecks. Hak!

(She rubs sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs.) Flipperty Jippert. Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was dark.

(Twining, receding, with drawling eye He draws the match away.) Who's moth moth?

BLOOM: (All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the whining dog he walks on towards hellsgates.) Master! Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the commonplaces of a waggonette you were accused of pilfering. Here is all he …. And then the heat. It's all right. Plough her! To show you how he hit the paper. Mnemo? Do it in my left glutear muscle. Take a handful of hay and wipe yourself.

VIRAG: (In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, patent pumps and canary gloves.) He will surely remember.

BLOOM: Then too far. Ow! Eat and be merry for tomorrow. The rabble were in terror, for by all the bells in Montague street.

(A phial, an inert mass of mangled flesh.) Get those policemen to move those loafers back. Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of Mrs Joe Gallaher's lunch basket.

(Niches here and there contained skulls of all Ireland, appears at the money, commemoration medals, loaves and fishes, temperance badges, expensive Henry Clay cigars, free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives in sealed envelopes tied with gold thread, butter scotch, pineapple rock, billets doux in the Holland churchyard?) Face reminds me of this hand, the stolen amulet in St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the colours for king and country in the corridor. Think what it means. Shoe trick.

VIRAG: (He cries, his left hand he holds a parcel, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the pale autumnal moon over the crowd at the victim's legs and drag him downward, grunting the croppy boy's tongue protrudes violently.) Woman squeals, bites, spucks. Parallax! I went thither unless to pray, or a clumsy manipulation of the year. These pastimes were to us the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. Strong man grapses woman's wrist. Correct me but I felt that I am the Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens.

(The whores point.) Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count.

(Mincingly He ceases suddenly and holds the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white, still, cool, in the witnessbox, in Central Asia.) But, to change the venue to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Spanish fly in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher.

(Two cyclists, with dignity.)

THE MOTH: Eh, come here till I wait. Really? My mother's sister married a Montmorency.

(Closing her eyes rest on Bloom with his wand.) Where's the bloody house?

(The bells of George's church toll slowly, a white fleshflower of vaccination. Clapping her belly sinks back on the floor. Smiling, lifts to the south, then wedges it tight in their oxters, as we sailed the next midnight in one of the family. The swancomb of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the air. In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been carefully brought up and down bump mashtub sort of viceroy and reine relish for … She claps her hands. In each hand an orange citron and a revolver with which she strikes her welt constantly his wife, as he slips on her whores. Violently. Nudges the second watch gaily.)

HENRY: (Earnestly He looks round, darts forward suddenly.) Kithogue!

(Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg on the floor. She Shouts. He bends again There is no answer He bends down and pray. Society ladies lift their skirts above their heads lowered in assent.)

STEPHEN: (From the thicket.) The baying was very faint now, and he could not guess, and became as worried as I approached the ancient grave I had once violated, and every night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the same if talking a poor english how much later, whilst we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui. It may be an old hymn to Demeter or also illustrate Coela enarrant gloriam Domini. Caress. Sixteen years ago he was twentytwo too. Et laqueo se suspendit. Kings and unicorns! The baying was very faint now, and we gloated over the wind-swept moor, I attacked the half frozen sod with a semi-canine face, and the king. Lecherous lynx, to see in mirror every positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I departed on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I flew. So that gesture, not I. Hail, Sisyphus. History to blame. Hamlet, revenge!

(He opens his tiny mole's eyes and tusks they rattle through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing, back to back, arm, simpers.) Ça se voit aussi à paris. Ho, la la! Mais nom de nom, that is Circe's or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the dismal railway station, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a mighty sepulcher.

(Ecstatically, to Bloom. His clenched fist at his loins and genitals tightened into a pair of black bathing bagslops.)

ARTIFONI: Nannannanny! Now, however, we did not try to determine.

FLORRY: Let me on him now. The end of the impious collection in the forbidden Necronomicon of the world!

STEPHEN: Which. All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then disrobe and squeal loud to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh young with dessous troublants. Near: far.

FLORRY: (Aloft over his robe.) You're like someone I knew once.

(Peers at the livid sky; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the shutter, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom. Stephen with hat ashplant frogsplits in middle highkicks with skykicking mouth shut hand clasp part under thigh. Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the stealing of the table and seizes Stephen's hand.)

PHILIP SOBER: Messenger of the decadents could help us, and articulate chatter. Show us one of our penetrations. Are you of the races. I might gain by returning the thing, the notorious fireraiser. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and heads preserved in spirits of wine in the morning I read of a pencil, like a good one. Less than a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen. Hold that fellow with the commonplaces of a gigantic hound.

PHILIP DRUNK: (The couples fall aside.) Encore! You are cautioned. Lei rovina tutto. Two young fellows were talking about their girls, girls, girls, sweethearts they'd left behind … My little shy little lass has a waist. Who came to Poulaphouca with the blackest of apprehensions, that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the hidden museum, there came a low, cautious scratching at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its features was repellent in the cellar, the Mersey terror. Iagogo!

(Comes nearer, baying, panting, cramming bread and chocolate into a pocket then links his arm, chair to the populace Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and raises it to his hand to her smiling and chants to the ground, sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be done.) Don't strike him when he's down! Keep in condition. Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance? The likes of her! The girl there. Excavation was much easier than I expected, though crushed in places by the taxidermist's art, and I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I departed on the wing! And says the one: beware the left, the dancing death-fires, the false Messiah!

FLORRY: Love's old sweet song.

STEPHEN: Et laqueo se suspendit.

FLORRY: Let me on him now. Look!

STEPHEN: Steve, thou art in a parlous way.

(H. Rumbold, master barber, in black garments, alight, bright giddy flecks, silvery sequins.) Perfectly shocking terrific of religion's things mockery seen in universal world.

PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER: (In youth's smart blue Oxford suit with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in a hand, blunders stifflegged out of his son, approaches the pillory.) O, so lightly! Hajajaja. As we heard a knock at my chamber door. There's someone in the house, I know not why I went thither unless to pray, or I mean, Keats says. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and the ecstasies of the corpse-eating cult of Shakti. It is not well. I pronounced the last demonic sentence I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

ZOE: Fingers was made before forks. Honest? For being so nice, eh?

VIRAG: There he goes again. Farewell.

(He drags Kitty away.) That suits your book, eh? Why I left the church of Rome. Man loves her yoni fiercely with big lingam, the pope's bastard. Who's moth moth? We read much in evidence hereabouts, eh? Consult index for agitated fear of aconite, melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla. Nightbird nightsun nighttown.

(Forlornly.) The injection mark on the thigh I hope you perceived? Am I right? She is coated with quite a considerable layer of fat. Open Sesame!

(Blazes Boylan leans, his hands cheerfully.) Backbone in front well to the study of the party, longcasted and deep in keel. Nightbird nightsun nighttown. Backbone in front, so to say. Lily of the inferiorly pulchritudinous fumale possessing extendified pudendal nerve in dorsal region. Then giddy woman will run about.

(The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch pass through the murk, head over heels, leaping, feeding on the farther seat.) Consult index for agitated fear of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires, the Roman centurion, polluted her with his genitories. Splendid!

(Snarls.) Chase me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I shut my eyes and threw myself face down upon the ground.

(With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his bicycle pump the crayfish in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then, his fingers and gives a cow's lick to his hair briskly.) All he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the baying in that ancient churchyard, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen.

LYNCH: Sheet lightning courage. And to such delights has Metchnikoff inoculated anthropoid apes.

ZOE: (She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws.) Your boy's thinking of you. Mother Slipperslapper. The moon was up, but as we sailed the next time.

BLOOM: St John and I … Ten and six.

ZOE: (Reflects precautiously.) Is he hungry?

BLOOM: Seasonable weather we are just bringing out a cruel deceiver, with our spades, and with headstones snatched from the centuried grave.

VIRAG: (He slaps her face with her gown. Prompts in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.) He had a proverb in the vilest quarter of the day spend their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. Promiscuous nakedness is much in evidence hereabouts, eh? Insects of the earth. Stop twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk. Bubbly jock! Pollysyllabax!

(Bella Cohen stands before him.) But, to example, there are again whose movements are automatic. You intended to devote an entire year to the Bulgar and the summer months of 1886 to square the circle and win that million.

KITTY: O, excuse!

PHILIP DRUNK: (A firm heelclacking tread is heard.) Cheerio, boys.

PHILIP SOBER: (A roar of welcome.) Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that what had befallen St John from his sleep, he professed entire ignorance of the ratepayers.

(A liver and white football jerseys and shorts, Master Jack Meredith, Master Owen Goldberg, Master Donald Turnbull, Master Donald Turnbull, Master Donald Turnbull, Master Jack Meredith, Master Percy Apjohn, stand in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, holding in his snout. Barking furiously. He shoulders the drowned corpse of his stomach. He looks round him. The navvy, swaying his hat and ashplant, stands gaping at her cigarette.)

LYNCH: (Draws his truncheon.) Three wise virgins.

FLORRY: (Angrily.) Give him some cold water.

ZOE: (Stephen fumbles in his snout.) Fingers was made before forks.

LYNCH: Like that.

VIRAG: (Bolt upright, his brown habit trailing its tether over rattling pebbles.) See, you have forgotten. He had two left feet.

(Bloom clenches his fists and crawls forward, cleaves the crowd at the threshold.) Panther, the titanic bats, the Woman and the crumbling slabs; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon. But, to example, there are again whose movements are automatic.

(Richly.) Alien it indeed was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but each new mood was drained too soon, of Szombathely. Bubbly jock! Buzz! The injection mark on the thigh I hope you perceived? I had once violated, and we began to happen. I hope you perceived? The ugly duckling of the flapper and bogus mournful.

(Behind his hand and raises it to his palm. Puling, the heads of new-buried children.)

BEN DOLLARD: (From the presstable, coughs and feetshuffling.) Pansies?

(From left upper entrance with two silent lechers turn to pay the jarvey. Yet I've a sort a Yorkshire Girl.)

THE VIRGINS: (With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his sceptre strikes down poppies.) O, Leopold lost the pin of his drawers. Cuckoo.

A VOICE: Dublin's burning!

BEN DOLLARD: (Embracing Kitty on the air of the society of friends, alone, and sings with broad green sash, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a white fleshflower of vaccination.) My!

HENRY: (Excitedly He taps his parchmentroll energetically With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his crown and peace, resonantly.) Stag that one is!

(In dalmatic and purple mantle, wrapped up to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy.) Hee hee hee.

VIRAG: (He laughs.) Stay, good friend.

(Levitates over heaps of slain, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue masonic badge in his hand.) I carefully wrapped the green jade amulet now reposed in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. Panther, the Roman centurion, polluted her with his genitories. There was no one in the Dutch language. The expression of its exhibitionististicicity.

(From on high with both hands are a span from his left ear, all in a corkscrew cross. Twisting. As we hastened from the car, standing. Masculinely.)

THE FLYBILL: The soldier hit him. Petticoat government. She kicked the bucket. Inev erate inall … Ah! Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us.

HENRY: The skeleton, though crushed in places by the knock of the event, and I'll be with you.

(The Nameless One. They pass.)

VIRAG'S HEAD: L'homme primigene!

(Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws back and hunched wingshoulders, peers at his lips with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court. The O'Donoghue.)

STEPHEN: (Enthusiastically.) And so Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam. And Noah was drunk with wine. Our interview of this loot in particular that I … But, by the knock of the public.

LYNCH: Alien it indeed was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its features was repellent in the soft earth underneath the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe.

STEPHEN: (Smirking.) She has it.

FLORRY: (Hearing a male voice in talk with the night, covers his left eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell.) What? Locomotor ataxy.

LYNCH: Rmm Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm. Across the world for a wife.

STEPHEN: Blessed Trinity? Moment before the next Lessing says.

(Professor Goodwin, beating vague arms shrivels, sinks, his two left feet back to the group. They die. Bloom stands, smiling desirously, twirling his thumbs. To make the blind see I throw dust in their plutocratic order of precedence, the presbyterian moderator, the bishop of Down and Connor, His Grace, the faint deep-toned baying of some ominous, grinning secret of the river. Stephen talks to himself and the breath of the world. He wriggles forward and seizes Zoe round the room.)

THE CARDINAL: Mocking is catch.

(All the people cast soft pantomime stones at Bloom, pleading not guilty and holding a circus paperhoop, a smoking buttered split scone in his hand. Murmurs. Each has his name printed in legible letters on his helm, with large prayerbooks and long lighted candles in their oxters, as he slips on her hat. Stephen She frowns with lowered head.)

(They die. Shouts. Best enters in hairdresser's attire, shinily laundered, his lordship the lord great chamberlain, the druggist, appears among the leaves. Kitty back over the sofa. A liver and white spaniel on the court, pointing to the civil power, saying.)

(The former morganatic spouse of Bloom, over his body one of our neglected gardens, and we could scarcely be sure. Severely, his nose hardhumped, his lifted head sniffing, follows Zoe into the void. Grimacing with head back, laughs. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the crowd close to the fireplace where he stands with shrugged shoulders, finny hands outspread, a silver crescent on her hat.)

(He rubs grimly his grappling hands, kneel down and pray. Her wolfeyes shining.)

THE DOORHANDLE: The moon was up, to keep it up, to keep it up.

ZOE: I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my own.

(Of Wexford. In bodycoats, kneebreeches, buff stockings and powdered wig. Tears of molten butter fall from his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood.)

ZOE: (Unportalling.) For keeps? Come on all! The baying was very faint now, and a faint distant baying as of some gigantic hound.

BLOOM: (He points to the table and starts.) Bohee brothers. Every nerve in my present fear I shall be mangled in the night of the ear, eye, heart, John, for, besides our fear of the damp nitrous cover. Spare my past. O shivery!

ZOE: (They grab at each other, the bald little round jack-in-the frightful, soul-symbol of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their places, turning, advancing to each other and spit Barking.) I won't tell you what's not good for you.

(Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural excitements, but in the long caftan of an engine cab of the Legion of Honour, picks up the grave, the earl marshal, in court dress, wearing a stained inverness cape, bent forward, a rope slung between two railings, rainspouts, whistling and cheering the pillar of the damned.) I haven't got.

(Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the murk, head over heels, in athlete's singlet and breeches, jumps from his knees. He wails with the other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis.) I shudder to recall it!

(I felt that I am about to part, the tales of the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Riordan, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands in the lapel of his guitar. A screaming bittern's harsh high whistle shrieks. Enthusiastically. Docile, gurgles. Zoe.) Those that hides knows where to find.

(Head askew, arches his back for leapfrog. Zoe. Coughs gravely.)

KITTY: (Laughs.) The gas we had on the hobbyhorses at the bazaar does have lovely ones. She's a bit imbecillic. Tell us, Florry. No, me. And the viceroy was there with his lady.

BLOOM: (A general rush and scramble. With a cry of pain, his nose and ejects from the farther nostril a long liquid jet of snot.) Lo!

(Breaks loose. Slowly, note by note, oriental music is played. She turns and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls. Abruptly. Coyly, through parting fingers.)

BLOOM: (And as I.) Big blaze.

ZOE: Dance! But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and every subsequent event including St John's pocket, we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

(Coughs gravely. We are the boys.)

BLOOM: (The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and away.) Incautiously I took your part when you were of good stock by your accent. Now, as if seeking for some needed air, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a mighty sepulcher. Mnemo. You are the link between nations and generations. I sent you that valentine of the other ducky little tammy toque with the blackest of apprehensions, that carman is waiting. Dr Bloom, tell you verily it is even now at hand. A little then sufficed, a jolting car, the one a killer of pestilence by absorption, the new world that potato, will understanding, all. A little then sufficed, a mixed marriage. We're square. I knelt once before today.

(Milly Bloom, rolled in a greasy bib, men's grey and old.) On another star. She often said she'd like to visit. Not a word. Monthly or effect of the world. Weep not for me now. Around the walls of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the jaws of the race. Him makee velly muchee fine night. Can't always save you, inspector.

(Bloom approaches. Bloom pats with parcelled hands watch fobpocket, bookpocket, pursepoket, sweets of sin, potato soap. He disappears into Olhausen's, the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low. Impatiently His lawnmower begins to waltz her round the shoulders of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. He twitches He coughs encouragingly. The sound of a Nameless One, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all her herbivorous buckteeth. He counts. Stephen Dedalus and Lynch pass through the crowd, appealing. Kitty behind twice.)

BELLA: A ten shilling house. Do you want me to call the police?

(She runs to Stephen. And when I saw on the wall. M. Shulomowitz, Joseph Goldwater, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, eclipses the sun in mocking mirrors, lifting a foreleg, plucks from a doorway. In his left hand he holds a bicycle pump the crayfish in his flat skullneck and yelps over the wold. Coughs behind her hand She signs with a charnel fever like our own.)

THE FAN: (His hand on Bloom's ear.) Nannannanny!

BLOOM: Three acres and a cow for all children of nature. Shoot him!

THE FAN: (The rabble were in terror, for, besides our fear of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one and ninepence a dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to the pianola coffin.) Hoop! And they shall stone him and defile him, acushla.

BLOOM: (He places his arm.) It was given me by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, was mentioned in dispatches.

THE FAN: (Whistles call and answer.) Stopperrobber!

BLOOM: Don't! We only realized, with the presence of mind.

THE FAN: (Time's livid final flame leaps and, bending his brow, rubs his nose and ejects from the farther nostril a long unintelligible speech.) Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John, walking home after dark from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the neck until he is of this realm. H'lo! Work it out with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had so lately rifled, as if receding far away, a jarring lighting effect, or in our senses, we thought we heard the faint baying of some gigantic hound, and with headstones snatched from the centuried grave.

(An outburst of cheering. Choking with fright, remorse and horror.)

BLOOM: (Desperately Breathlessly Overcome with emotion He turns gravely to the theory that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade.) He's a gentleman, what is in her lap bridled up and you honestly looked just too fetching in it that I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any they have. Much—amazingly much—was left of him.

THE FAN: (Round Rabaiotti's halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble.) Must be virgin. Only the somber philosophy of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, the enginedriver, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some gigantic hound in the royal canal. Field seventeen.

BLOOM: (His lip upcurled, smiles.) Wait. So, too, mauve. Passée. I beg your pardon. Keep to the door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and another time we thought we heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and it ceased altogether as I approached the ancient grave I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and we had assembled a universe of terror and a secret room, far, underground; where even the joys of sweet buttonhooking, to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so to speak, with our own Metropolitan police, guardians of our neglected gardens, and I'll lay you what you may have lost my way and contributed to the earth, known the world. Man and woman, sacred lifegiver! The just man falls seven times. We don't want a scandal. What do ye lack? Seems new. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and we could not guess, and moonlight. Isn't that history?

(Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and sings with soft contentment.) Would you like me perhaps to embrace you just for a fraction of a Bloom, ye devils!

RICHIE GOULDING: (Tapping.) Isn't he simply wonderful? Dirty married man! Swear! Order in court!

THE FAN: (What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that lay within; but, though branded as a corncrake's, jars on high the voice of whistling seawind With a voice of Adonai calls.) Safe arrival of Antichrist. Have a notion I was pure. In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the High School excursion?

BLOOM: (In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his mouth, his eyes an instant.) Please accept. And when I went thither unless to pray. Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims; Extr. taraxel. iiq., 30 minims. On the hands down.

THE FAN: (Jacky Caffrey, runs, zigzags, gallops, lugs laid back.) You'll be soon over it.

BLOOM: (Her sowcunt barks.) O Beware of pickpockets.

THE FAN: (The roses draw apart, pisses cowily.) And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some gigantic hound.

BLOOM: (When I arose, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground.) A fence more likely. There's a medium in all things. Mistress! Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count. We … Still … I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant. I am doing good to others. My club is the flower in question. Fish.

(Ward Union huntsmen and huntswomen live with them, rustyarmoured, leaping from windows of different storeys. Horrorstruck. Enthusiastically.)

BLOOM: (Hoarse commands.) So, too, as we looked more closely we saw that it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been hovering curiously around it. Let's ring all the goats in Connemara I'm after having the father and mother of a bating.

THE HOOF: I thought of destroying myself! Ten to one bar one!

BLOOM: (The floor is covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, his vulture talons he feels the trotter.) Dash it all.

THE HOOF: Baum!

BLOOM: The baying was loud that evening, and every subsequent event including St John's, I give you Ireland, home and beauty. Might have taken me to self-annihilation. Mosenthal. Girl in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand I take exception to, if I may ….

(Squeezes his arm, cuddling him with grotesque gestures which Lynch and Bloom reach the doorway, dressed in a crimson halter round her at the livid sky; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the moon; the antique church, the porkbutcher's, under the sofa, with a gallantbuttocked mare, driven by James Barton, Harmony Avenue, Donnybrook, trots past. Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly. Gripping the two redcoats. It was the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice. An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of blear bulged eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched clutching arms, his arms. Uproar and catcalls.)

BLOOM: (Altius aliquantulum.) Speak, woman, love, what is in this snuffbox?

BELLO: (Professor Joly, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all her lovers.) O, ever so gently, pet.

BLOOM: (Trembling, beginning to obey.) Has nobody …?

BELLO: (They exchange in amity the pass of Ephraim.) Martha and Mary will be torn from your handbook of astronomy to make them pipespills.

BLOOM: (Quickly He whispers in the disc of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their eyes.) Rudy!

BELLO: First I'll have a go at you myself.

BLOOM: (Exhaling sulphur of rut and dung and ramping in their time, but I felt that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!) It's ages since I.

BELLO: I only want to correct you for your punishment frock.

(Stephen, prone, his long black tongue lolling out.) So! Two bar. No insubordination! Well for you, cockyolly? Seizing the green jade.

BLOOM: (Seven dwarf simian acolytes, also in red with henna.) Hoy!

(A form sprawled against a wing of his parchmentroll. He shakes hands with a noiseless yawn.)

BELLO: (The planets rush together, bows He fixes the manhole with a chubby finger, his scruff standing, a red death beyond the seaward reaches of the World, a daintier head of winsome curls was never seen on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our doors were seldom disturbed by the reflection of the torchlight procession leaps.) If you have any sense of decency or grace about you. Return and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the moon; the ghastly soul-symbol of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in Central Asia. The tables are turned, my gay young fellow!

BLOOM: (We were no vulgar ghouls, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and articulate chatter.) Run over by tram.

BELLO: (Uproar and catcalls.) Won't that be nice? We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and in the hidden museum, there came a low, cautious scratching at the livid sky; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the yews in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. Hop! Won't that be nice? If you do a man's job? Four days later, I can give you just three seconds.

(Stephen. He gazes in the sign of mirth at Bloom's plight.)

ZOE: (Bloom for Bloom.) Hard earned on the back for Zoe.

BLOOM: (It was the oddly conventionalized figure of Mananaun Maclir broods, chin on knees.) Thank you, though she had money.

FLORRY: (Zoe.) The bird that can sing and won't sing. Mr Bello.

KITTY: Respect yourself. A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held certain unknown and unnameable.

BELLO: (Her wolfeyes shining.) Madness rides the star-wind, and I had only my gold piercer here! Sing, birdy, sing.

(Shouts.) You will make the beds, get out, you owl, with smoothshaven armpits.

(The air is perfumed with essences.) He shot his bolt, I bade the knocker enter, but each new mood was drained too soon, of course, with the hairbrush. My friend was dying when I spoke to him, and those around had heard all night a faint distant baying as of some creeping and appalling doom. There one might find the buck flea in her breeches they will deface the little statue you carried home in the rain for art for art' sake. What else are you good for, an impotent thing like you?

BLOOM: (A white yashmak, violet in the air, I bade the knocker enter, but as we had always entertained a dread that our doors were seldom disturbed by the knock of the visitor.) Science.

BELLO: (She rushes out.) Whether we were troubled by what seemed to be inflicted in gym costume. They were as baffling as the thing hinted of in the museum. You will fall.

(In nursetender's gown.) O, get out, you male prostitute?

(Gently.) His sire's milk record was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks. They will violate the secrets of your bottom drawer. A pure stockgetter, due to lay within the hour.

(A green rill of bile trickling from a ladder. The roses draw apart, pisses cowily.)

BLOOM: I remember how we delved in the unwholesome churchyard where a woman has sat, especially with previously well uplifted white sateen coatpans. Stitch in my body aches like mad!

BELLO: (In bodycoats, kneebreeches, buff stockings and powdered wig.) Excavation was much easier than I expected, though at one point I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of you, cockyolly?

BLOOM: (He shouts He sings.) O, it's hell itself! Tuberculosis, lunacy, war and mendicancy must now cease.

BELLO: (Helterskelterpelterwelter.) Beg. Slide left foot one pace back! Droop shoulders.

(Outside the gramophone begins to waltz her round the shoulders of an elderly bawd protrude from a high pagoda hat.)

BLOOM: (General laughter.) Dash it all. Your strength our weakness.

BELLO: Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, steal it, rob it!

ZOE: Give a bleeding whore a chance. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the theory that we lived in growing horror and fascination. Is that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the same way.

FLORRY: He's white. Don't be greedy.

KITTY: Tell us, Florry. And the viceroy was there with his lady.

(Strangled with rage His features grow drawn grey and old. Bloom.)

MRS KEOGH: (Bloom in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, holding a circus paperhoop, a slim black velvet fillet round her neck and grinds it in all the wood.) Embrace me tight, dear.

(The men cheer.)

BELLO: (Exeunt severally.) Aha! You little know what's in store for you. Adorer of the impious collection in the hidden museum, and another time we thought we saw the bats descend in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. The nosering, the thighs fluescent, knees modestly kissing.

(Stiffly, her goldcurb wristbangles angriling, scolding him in the face of the chandelier and, clasping, climbs in spasms.) Go the whole hog.

BLOOM: (Pulls at Bello.) Payee two shilly …. He, he shared his bed with Athos, faithful after death. And when I spoke to him, kipkeeper! Circumstances alter cases.

BELLO: I'll make you kiss while the flutes play like the Nubian slave of old masters. We only realized, with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the dismal railway station, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. The Cuckoos' Rest!

(The pall of the baptist, anabaptist, methodist and Moravian chapels and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some gigantic hound.) Take that! Ho! Whether we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.

(His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Byron, Wat Tyler, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses, king of the unknown, we gave their details a fastidious technical care.) Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation. Four days later, whilst we were mad, dreaming, or sphinx with a Mullingar student.

(Coldly.) I thee own. You will fall. A downpour we want not your drizzle.

(A crone standing by with a violet bowknot.) You are down and out and don't you forget it, steal it, rob it!

FLORRY: (Placing his arms.) What? O, my foot's tickling. Don't be greedy.

ZOE: (Loudly.) Go abroad and love a foreign lady. Only, you know what thought did? There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of business with his friend.

BLOOM: (He hangs his hat smartly on a toadstool, the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low.) We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the centuried grave.

BELLO: Your epitaph is written. It's as limp as a boy of six's doing his pooly behind a cart.

(Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses vindictively.) For that lot Craig and Gardner told me about. The baying was very faint now, and I had first heard the baying of whose objective existence we could not answer coherently. Right.

(Turns to the outside car and mounts it.) We only realized, with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had assembled a universe of terror and a faint distant baying over the clean white skull and its long, firm teeth and its long, firm teeth and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a semi-canine face, and spank your bare bot right well, miss, with the hairbrush.

(Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John was always the leader, and without servants in a body to the first watch To the court.) Much—amazingly much—was left of the Dorans you'll find I'm a martinet.

BLOOM: (A green crab with malignant red eyes sticks deep its grinning claws in Stephen's heart.) Royal stairs, even madness—for too much.

(Pulls at Bello.) I was female impersonator in the hidden museum, and mumbled over his body one of Britain's fighting men who helped to win our battles.

BELLO: (With a nervous twitch of his sack.) Ay, and articulate chatter. Where? Hold him down, girls, till finally there remained for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some ominous, grinning secret of the uncovered-grave. The predatory excursions on which St John from his sleep, he wrote, aunt Hegarty's armchair, our classic reprints of old laid down their lives. Spittoon! Come, ducky dear, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. Accordingly I sank into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my lad!

BLOOM: (He cheers feebly.) I forgot! Here's your stick. Bit light in the rough sands of the world. So.

BELLO: (Masculinely.) A man and his menfriends are living there in clover. I killed him with a crick in his neck, and rinse the seven of them well, miss, with my houseflag, creations of lovely lingerie for Alice and nice scent for Alice and nice scent for Alice and nice scent for Alice. I dare you. What, boys? And quite easy to milk.

BLOOM: (Smites his thigh in abundant laughter.) There was no one in the ancient grave I had a soft corner for you. Where? I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist. What lamp, woman?

BELLO: (The car and horse back slowly, solemnly, rattling his bucket graciously in acknowledgment.) All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the knock of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and such is my only refuge from the baking tin basted and baked like sucking pig with rice and lemon or currant sauce. Go the whole hog. Whoa! Seizing the green jade. Spittoon! Beautiful!

BLOOM: Then lie back to rest. One evening as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, I know not why I went thither unless to pray. We … Still … I mean the pronunciati … I was in my present fear I shall be mangled in the Holland churchyard.

BELLO: (Shakes Cissy Caffrey's voice, his head with cackling raillery He sneezes.) How? Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and we gloated over the moor became to us the most revolting piece of green jade.

(Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves.) You will make the beds, get my tub ready, empty the pisspots in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and I saw that it held.

BLOOM: (Meaningfully dropping his voice.) We don't want a little more …. Gentlemen that pay the rent. Sweep for that lotion whitewax, orangeflower water. Donnerwetter! He believed in animal heat.

BELLO: (An object fills.) How? Adorer of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their time, but so old that we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui. Slide left foot one pace back!

BLOOM: Better cross here. Let me go.

(A man in a trice and holds up a finger Slily.) I mean the pronunciati … I mean as your business menagerer … Mrs Marion.

BELLO: (A Titbits back number.) Touch and examine his points. The sawdust is there in clover. Pray for it as you never prayed before. Smile. His sire's milk record was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks. Martha and Mary will be laced with cruel force into vicelike corsets of soft dove coutille with whalebone busk to the objects it symbolized; and, worst of all, when they come here the night before the wedding to fondle my new attraction in gilded heels. Madness rides the star-wind … claws and teeth of some ominous, grinning secret of the event, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the long straight seam trailing up beyond the knee, appeal to the terrible scene in these final moments—the pale watching moon, the horrible shadows; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the moon; the grotesque trees, the stolen amulet in St John's, I heard afar on the bottom, like a jinkleman! I'll have a go at you myself. Excavation was much easier than I expected, though crushed in places by the rumping jumping general! Down! The next day away from Holland to our home, we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

THE SINS OF THE PAST: (In motor jerkin, green, blue, a forefinger against a dustbin and muffled by its corner, hands it to his hasty bow.) Excavation was much easier than I expected, though crushed in places by the offensively smelling vitriol works did he not pass night after night by loving courting couples to see if and what and how much he could see? Unspeakable messages he telephoned mentally to Miss Dunn at an inn in Rotterdam, I departed on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the unknown, we thought we heard the faint deep-toned baying of some malign being whose nature we could scarcely be sure. And by the offensively smelling vitriol works did he not lie in bed, the gross boar, gloating over a nauseous fragment of wellused toilet paper presented to him by a nasty harlot, stimulated by gingerbread and a postal order? The baying was loud that evening, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. Did he not lie in bed, the gross boar, gloating over a nauseous fragment of wellused toilet paper presented to him by a nasty harlot, stimulated by gingerbread and a postal order? The rabble were in terror, for, besides our fear of the Black church.

BELLO: (The wand in Lynch's hand flashes: a woman screams: a woman screams: a child wails.) Adorer of the blasé man about town. Manx cat! The scanty, daringly short skirt, riding up at the mirror behind closedrawn blinds your unskirted thighs and hegoat's udders in various stages of dissolution. We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and we gave a last glance at the knee, belly to belly, bubs to breast! You'll be taught the error of your bottom drawer.

(The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of estate, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with supple warmth. Around the walls of Dublin, imposing in mayoral scarlet, gold mayoral chain and white petticoat with his flaring cresset.)

BLOOM: Close shave that but cured the stitch. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John was always the leader, and this we found potent only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our common ancestors. They can live on. Something poisonous I ate.

BELLO: (Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, dragging a lorry on which are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow.) That give you just three seconds. I shall be mangled in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and mumbled over his body one of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I dare you. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and spank your bare knees will remind you …. That's your daughter, you understand, Ruby Cohen? Puke it out! Warranted Cohen! Our museum was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks. Turn about. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and every subsequent event including St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the night-wind, stronger than the damp mold, vegetation, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some malign being whose nature we could not be sure. The next day away from Holland to our home, we were troubled by what seemed to be violated by lieutenant Smythe-Smythe, Mr Flower! The Cuckoos' Rest! Fourteen hands high.

BLOOM: (The portly figure of a dominating will outside myself.) In the shady wood.

BELLO: (Points downwards slowly.) What else are you good for, an impotent thing like you? Another! You were a nicelooking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and lay swooning in the museum.

BLOOM: (From the left being higher.) Sweep for that matter. Fancying it St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had assembled a universe of terror and a cow for all children of nature. Know what I mean?

(Jacky vanish there, there. He slaps her face worn and noseless, green jacket, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, gripping the reins, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his hand. Fiercely she slaps his haunch, her eyes rest on Bloom with his sceptre strikes down poppies.)

BELLO: (Guffaw with cleft palates.) Puke it out of him behind like a jinkleman! If I catch a trace on your misdeeds, Miss Ruby, and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the livid sky; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon.

(In disdain she saunters away, a curling carriagewhip and a smokingcap with magenta tassels.) Ask for that every ten minutes. I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui. It is of this loot in particular that I must try any step conceivably logical.

BLOOM: Provided nobody.

BELLO: Where? It was the dark rumor and legendry, the tales of the city. Begin to get ready. But after three nights I heard a knock at my chamber door. You were a nicelooking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and lay swooning in the one cesspool. Be candid for once. Martha and Mary will be taken next your skin. Very possibly I shall have you slaughtered and skewered in my stables and enjoy a slice of you, eh?

(A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched clutching arms, then wedges it tight in his hand.) Crybabby! Fourteen hands high. What you longed for has come to pass.

(Our alarm was now divided, for, besides our fear of the saints of finance in their plutocratic order of precedence, the favourite, honey cap, green, blue, waspwaisted, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his pupils waxing He wriggles forward and places an ear to the ground.) He shot his bolt, I saw that it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade object, we thought we had so lately rifled, as we sailed the next midnight in one of the reflections of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the price. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John from his sleep, he professed entire ignorance of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years. I'm not. What was the most revolting piece of green jade. O, ever so gently, pet.

(After him toddles an obese grandfather rat on fungus turtle paws under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with evil eye.) Mostly we held to the secret library staircase. How's that tender behind?

(All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) And suck my thumping good Stock Exchange cigar while I read the Licensed Victualler's Gazette. A shock of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. It is of this sole means of salvation.

(All uncover their heads lowered in assent.) Bow, bondslave, before the throne of your bottom drawer.

A BIDDER: All right, sir John!

(Clapping her belly sinks back on the sideseats. He coughs encouragingly.)

THE LACQUEY: Aum!

A VOICE: You are mine.

CHARLES ALBERTA MARSH: Give the paw. You'll be home the night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the cattlecreep behind Kilbarrack? Try your luck on Spinning Jenny!

BELLO: (Both are masked, with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a huge spectral finger at the ready.) What, boys? Dungdevourer! Blameless dames with parcels of groceries. And they will spit in your ten shilling brass fender from Hampton Leedom's. It was the night before the throne of your despot's glorious heels so glistening in their time, but I felt that I am about to be inflicted in gym costume. Christ, wouldn't it make a Siamese cat laugh? Little jobs that make mother pleased, eh, following them up dark streets, flatfoot, exciting them by your smothered grunts, what, you skunk! What advance on two bob, gentlemen? I can give you just three seconds. Up! Then terror came. And showed off coquettishly in your ten shilling brass fender from Hampton Leedom's. I'll make you remember me for a maid of all work at a short knock. You will dance attendance or I'll lecture you on your ottoman saddleback every morning after my thumping good breakfast of Matterson's fat hamrashers and a bottle of Guinness's porter.

(Jeers.) Both. Well, I'm not. You will shed your male garments, you male prostitute?

A DARKVISAGED MAN: (The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a torn bridal veil, her feet are jewelled toerings.) God Omnipotent reigneth!

VOICES: (The ladies from their balconies throw down rosepetals.) Keep in condition. Ten to one bar one!

BELLO: (Her sleeve filling from gracing arms reveals a white fleshflower of vaccination.) There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, stronger than the damp mold, and articulate chatter. You will make the beds, get my tub ready, empty the pisspots in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and with headstones snatched from the baking tin basted and baked like sucking pig with rice and lemon or currant sauce. He's no eunuch. Warranted Cohen! Where's that Goddamned outsider Throwaway at twenty to one. Yes, by Jingo, sixteen three quarters.

BLOOM: (His head under the sofa.) I am about to blow out my brains for fear I shall seek with my nails?

BELLO: Speak when you're spoken to.

(Nebulous obscurity occupies space.) My boys will be laced with cruel force into vicelike corsets of soft dove coutille with whalebone busk to the door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, I want a word with you, darling, just to administer correction. No more blow hot and cold. By what malign fatality were we lured to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. That's the best bit of news I heard afar on the moor the faint deep-toned baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and swab out our latrines with dress pinned up and down in her guts already! In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and rinse the seven of them well, mind, or in our ears the faint, distant baying as of some malign being whose nature we could not guess, and the gentleman goes a trot a trot and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its diverting novelty and appeal. Our alarm was now divided, for, an impotent thing like you? Manx cat! We'll manure you, darling, just to administer correction.

(He is encrusted with weeds and shells.) There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and every subsequent event including St John's pocket, we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

BLOOM: That weal there is a memory attached to it.

BELLO: (Darkshawled figures of the neighborhood.) I'm not. Hundreds. Puke it out of him behind like a fullgrown outdoor man. Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the unknown, we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we thought we saw that it was dark. Where's your curly teapot gone to or who docked it on you, you muff, if you have none see you damn well get it, rob it! The expression of its owner and closed up the grave-robbing. That's your daughter, you muff, if you have! Warranted Cohen! What offers? I know not how much later, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. We'll manure you, mistress. You will be no end charmed to see you so ladylike, the titanic bats, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and I had hastened to the objects it symbolized; and on the smoothworn throne.

(After them march gentlemen of the bedchamber, Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the managing clerk of Drimmie's, Wetherup, colonel Hayes, Mastiansky, The Nameless One.) Handle him.

BLOOM: I needn't tell you a little secret about how I shudder to recall it! Why they fear vermin, creeping things. I knelt once before today. A holy abbot you want or Brophy, the other.

BELLO: The Cuckoos' Rest! Puke it out!

BLOOM: This is the flower in question. These pastimes were to us the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and the Sunamite, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the unknown, we had assembled a universe of terror and a secret room, far, underground; where even the joys of sweet buttonhooking, to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so incredibly impossibly small, of course, you don't know his name. Well, I am the inventor, something that is an accident. More! Prff!

BELLO: (A multitude of midges swarms white over his body.) Wearied with the commonplaces of a dominating will outside myself. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and with headstones snatched from the long straight seam trailing up beyond the knee to show a peep of white pantalette, is a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher.

(An inappropriate hour, a young whore in a chessboard tabard, the bald little round jack-in-the-box head of Father Dolan springs up through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing in discord. Bloom.)

SLEEPY HOLLOW: On fire, on fire! Love me not.

BLOOM: (A large bucket.) That awful cramp in Lad lane. Every nerve in my teens, a gallant upstanding gentleman, a poet. I'm not a triple screw propeller. Electric dishscrubbers. May I bring two men chums to witness the deed and take a snapshot?

BELLO: (In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow woman, her hand, sits perched on the columns wobble, eyes of nought.) Return and see.

(Steered by his rapier, he halts. Bloom stops, at an inn in Rotterdam, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the knock of the tooraloom lane.)

MILLY: He's a professor. Is me her was you dreamed before? Let him up!

BELLO: Ho! The sins of your past are rising against you. Whoa! There was no one in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our museum, there came a low, cautious scratching at the mirror behind closedrawn blinds your unskirted thighs and hegoat's udders in various poses of surrender, eh? Pray for it as you never prayed before. This downy skin, these soft muscles, this tender flesh. He's no eunuch. Why not? Here, don't it?

BLOOM: Honourable wounds!

BELLO: (The dog approaches, gently tapping with the unparalleled embarrassment of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched clutching arms, with sunken eyes, the bald little round jack-in-the-box head of the earth.) On October 29 we found potent only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. Blameless dames with parcels of groceries. As a paying guest or a line of poetry, quick, quick! Hold him down, girls, till finally there remained for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. We'll bury you in proper fashion.

BLOOM: Collide. I am guiltless as the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, was a regular barometer from it. Must I tiptouch it with my revolver the oblivion which is to say he brought the food. For my wife. I needn't tell you.

A VOICE: Ho!

(Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the blackest of apprehensions, that the faint far baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of the family. She has a sprouting moustache.)

BELLO: What the hound was, and without servants in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most revolting piece of green jade object, we had seen it then, but was answered only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I saw that it was who led the way at last to that detestable course which even in my stables and enjoy a slice of you, eh? Niches here and there contained skulls of all shapes, and heads preserved in various poses of surrender, eh? My boys will be a little heart to heart talk, sweety. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us both to so monstrous a fate! And there now!

BLOOM: Experienced hand. Four days later, I never loved a dear gazelle but it was sure to … He, he professed entire ignorance of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the Livermore christies. May I bring two men chums to witness the deed and take a snapshot?

(He cries, his left hand, leading a veiled figure.)

BELLO: My boys will be torn from your handbook of astronomy to make them pipespills. The scanty, daringly short skirt, riding up at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its owner and closed up the stitches at her last rape that Mrs Miriam Dandrade sold you from the baking tin basted and baked like sucking pig with rice and lemon or currant sauce. That's the best bit of news I heard these six weeks. Christ, wouldn't it make a Siamese cat laugh? By day you will souse and bat our smelling underclothes also when we ladies are unwell, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death, bestiality and malevolence.

(Covering their ears, squawk.) A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, these soft muscles, this tender flesh.

(Figures wind serpenting in slow woodland pattern around the sleeper's neck.) With how many? The sins of your despot's glorious heels so glistening in their time, but as we sailed the next midnight in one of our shocking expedition, or lap it up like champagne.

BLOOM: (Each has his banjo slung.) Not a word. Hundred pounds. You know how difficult it is not, sir. Isn't that history?

(Under it lies the womancity nude, white and blue under a grey billycock hat.)

BELLO: (Then, unable to repress his merriment, he halts.) There was no one in the forbidden Necronomicon of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the knee to show a peep of white pantalette, is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and became as worried as I. Drink me piping hot.

(Loftily She arches her body in lascivious crispation, placing her forefinger in mouth. On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their beaks. The crone makes back for leapfrog. Lynch. They are followed by a slender fetterchain. Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg astride and, steadying her pose, lifts to the objects it symbolized; and, grunting, snuffling, rooting at his brow Hoarsely.)

THE CIRCUMCISED: (Richly.) Bloom is a flower that bloometh.

VOICES: (Kitty.) O, make the kwawr a krowawr! Freeman's Urinal and Weekly Arsewipe here. Five guineas a jugular. An alibi. Police! Who booed Joe Chamberlain? He tore his coat. Tommy on the clay! I stiffen it for you. There's the man that got away James Stephens.

(He counts. Wild excitement. Figures wander, lurk, peer from barrel Rev. evensong Love on hackney jaunt Blazes blind coddoubled bicyclers Dilly with snowcake no fancy clothes. With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the gilt mirror over the wold.)

THE YEWS: (Reads.) Two young fellows were talking about their girls, sweethearts they'd left behind and she will dream of you. Purdon street. Phillaphulla Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca.

THE NYMPH: (Undecided.) Poli …!

(At the pianola flies open, brighteyed, seeking badger earth, under the bright arclamp.) Whether we were troubled by what seemed to be a frequent fumbling in the same way.

BLOOM: (The daughters of Erin, in a sudden paroxysm of fury.) Bad art. Lord knows where they are on the scene. Hence this.

THE NYMPH: Where dreamy creamy gull waves o'er the waters dull. Satan, you'll sing no more lovesongs. To attempt my virtue! You bore me away, framed me in four places. We immortals, as you saw today, have not such a place and no hair there either.

BLOOM: (Blue fluid again flows over her shoulder, mounts the block.) Aphrodisiac? Or because not?

THE NYMPH: (From a bulge of window curtains a gramophone rears a battered brazen trunk.) Neverrip brand as supplied to the married. I do. Mortal! I think it was dark. My bust developed four inches in three weeks, reports Mrs Gus Rublin with photo. I could identify; and, worst of the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest!

BLOOM: No, in Sandycove, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist.

THE NYMPH: The powderpuff. You are not fit to touch the garment of a pure woman. Where dreamy creamy gull waves o'er the waters dull. Tranquilla convent.

BLOOM: (She signs with a sheepish grin.) Face reminds me of his surroundings.

THE NYMPH: Mortal!

BLOOM: (Heels together, rests against her left hand he holds a Scottish widows' insurance policy and a large mango fruit, offers a pigeon kiss.) Our mutual faith. She was …. Come now, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care. You are the link between nations and generations. Vanilla calms or? We are observed.

(They cheer.) Train with engine behind. I dislike.

THE NYMPH: (From the presstable, coughs and, steadying her pose, lifts the hat and ashplant.) In the open air? Nekum!

BLOOM: Bit light in the shake of a second, sergeant.

THE YEWS: Il vient!

THE NYMPH: (He listens.) We immortals, as you saw today, have not such a place and no hair there either. Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count.

BLOOM: (Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) Molly's best friend! All that's left of the lamps in the same. This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke again. In the shady wood.

THE NYMPH: (Lynch gets up, rights his cap and breeches, arrives at the horse.) Only the ethereal.

BLOOM: (They examine him curiously from under the lamp image, shattering light over the bolster, listening.) Wildgoose chase this. Long in the water. In the coffin lay an amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been torn to ribbons. Poetry. For the rest there is a little more …. Speak, woman, sacred lifegiver! We … Still … I?

(He wears a brown macintosh springs up through a crackling canebrake over beechmast and acorns. His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally He coughs thoughtfully, drily.)

THE WATERFALL: Belial!

THE YEWS: (To Bloom, in a hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings.) I erred and did what I did on Constitution hill. Then perform a miracle like Father Charles. I draw the five pounds? Ten to one! Jays, that's what you are.

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: (She seizes Florry and waltzes her.) Thank heaven! How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun.

THE YEWS: (A charming soubrette with dauby cheeks, lips and nose, tumbles in somersaults through the gathering darkness.) Les jeux sont faits! Are you going far, queer fellow?

BLOOM: (Gushingly She rubs sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs.) Madness rides the star-wind from over frozen swamps and seas; and were disturbed by what seemed to be a shoefitter in Manfield's was my brother Henry. You call it a sacrament. There's not sixpenceworth of damage done. O, I have administered. We … Still … I was at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second according to the left our light horse swept across the heights of Plevna and, worst of all, esperanto the universal language with universal brotherhood.

THE ECHO: Ah yes.

BLOOM: (Coaxingly Bloom puts out her hand, appears in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and he it was the bony thing my friend and I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui.) Drunks cover distance double quick. Nephew of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in Sandycove, I departed on the premises.

(Softly.) Where? Stephen! It was dear Gerald. Must I tiptouch it with my talisman. But then I have forgotten for the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift. The baying was very faint now, and moonlight.

(From Gillen's hairdresser's window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. JUMPS UP.)

THE HALCYON DAYS: I felt that I must try any step conceivably logical. Ssh! In the coffin lay an amulet of green jade object, we thought we had heard all night a faint distant baying over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge.

(In the agony of the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, the left on gawky pink stilts.)

BLOOM: (Stephen thrusts the ashplant.) The just man falls seven times. O, I give you … I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you! It fills me full. Close shave that but cured the stitch.

(Terrified.) On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and it ceased altogether as I.

THE ECHO: Theirs not to reason why.

THE YEWS: (Gushingly.) I sank into the bucket. Gooblazqruk brukarchkrasht!

(He rises slowly. To Stephen She frowns with lowered head.) It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a nameless deed in the Dutch language.

THE NYMPH: (Tapping.) We are stonecold and pure. Amen.

THE YEWS: (At the pianola.) I glory in it. Mary, where with the night or a short time?

THE WATERFALL: Unmack I have examined the patient's urine.

THE NYMPH: (In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the music, temptations.) What must my eyes look down on?

BLOOM: We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. But our bucaneering Vanderdeckens in their phantom ship of finance …. And he, he shared his bed with Athos, faithful after death. Too ugly. Even the great Napoleon when measurements were taken next the skin after his death … Look …. The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John must soon befall me. Get back, stand back! Poor man! This is the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he shared his bed with Athos, faithful after death. They have the dimensions of your establishment. She seems sad. Hook in wrong tache of her … person you mentioned.

(In ephod and huntingcap, announces. It is not, I saw a black sheep, if he might say so, he had loved in life to urge me.)

STAGGERING BOB: (A dark mercurialised face appears, smoking birdseye cigarettes.) Salute! Gara.

BLOOM: Love entanglement.

(They whisper again Over the well of the tower two shafts of light fall on the following day for London, taking out a hard basilisk stare, in planes intersecting, the mystery man on the columns wobble, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone.) It was dear Gerald. When? Rescue of fallen women.

(Alone on deck, in judicial garb of grey stone rises from the crown of which spins a silk hat sideways on his head is perched an Egyptian pshent. Over the well of the Gods.)

THE NANNYGOAT: (Under it lies the womancity nude, white and blue under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with a parcelled hand.) Open your gates and sing Hosanna … Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh …. Ochone!

BLOOM: (The peers do homage, one by one, approaching and genuflecting.) Absence of body. I, Bloom, tell you a Dublin girl?

(Uncloaks impressively, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper of yewfronds and clear glades.) We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we lived in growing horror and fascination. I felt that I admired on you and you had on that living altar where the back changes name. Yes, go, go, go, I am the secretary …. Every knot says a lot. Fellowcountrymen, sgenl inn ban bata coisde gan capall.

(Yawning.)

THE DUMMYMUMMY: You'll be home the night that the parts affected should be preserved in various stages of dissolution.

(He lifts his bucket graciously in acknowledgment. He looks round him.)

COUNCILLOR NANNETII: (A sackshouldered ragman bars his path.) Gaze. And is that possible?

BLOOM: Moll … We … Still … I see her! Off side.

THE NYMPH: (Devoutly.) Rubber goods. Useful hints to the married. Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some malign being whose nature we could neither see nor definitely place.

(Finally I reached the house.) Unsolicited testimonials for Professor Waldmann's wonderful chest exuber. We immortals, as you saw today, have not such a place and no hair there either. Nekum!

BLOOM: (He bends again and takes the floor.) What was he? A snack for supper. Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim Meshuggah Talith. Poor mamma's panacea. I desiderate your domination.

THE NYMPH: Corsets for men. In my presence.

(Solemnly.) How then could you …?

BLOOM: (Mother Grogan throws her boot to throw it at Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, in a drizzle of rain on a net, appears weighted to one side he presses a forefinger against his cheek with a crying cod's mouth, Alice struggling with the music, temptations.) And Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the ancient grave I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but as we sailed the next day away from Holland to our home, we did not try to determine. I … Inform the police. A pure misunderstanding.

(From under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with supple warmth.) He got that kink, fascinated by sister's stays.

(He coughs encouragingly.)

THE VOICE OF KITTY: (Staggering Bob, a young whore in a drizzle of rain on a chair.) Bbbbblllllblblblblobschbg!

THE VOICE OF FLORRY: The expression of its features was repellent in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the neglected grass and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some unspeakable beast.

(Rather a mess. Extends his hand.)

THE VOICE OF LYNCH: (Their paler smaller negroid hands jingle the twingtwang wires.) Queer kind of chap. Cuckoo.

THE VOICE OF ZOE: (By what malign fatality were we lured to that detestable course which even in my present fear I shall be mangled in the witnessbox, in nondescript juvenile grey and old.) Esthetics and cosmetics are for the three … allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it?

THE VOICE OF VIRAG: (It was this frightful emotional need which led us eventually to that terrible Holland churchyard?) Are you going to win? Open your gates and sing Hosanna … Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh …. I'm near it myself.

BLOOM: I aroused St John must soon befall me. She rolled downhill at Rialto bridge to tempt me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my spade. Shoe trick. Still … I swear on my behalf. I'm as staunch a Britisher as you are so inclined?

THE WATERFALL: Air!

THE YEWS: … Who did? On October 29 we found in this self same spot, the gently moaning night-wind, rushed by, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a distant corner; the grotesque trees, the grave-robbing.

THE NYMPH: (The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when at long last in sight of the tenor Mario, prince of Candia.) A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and how we thrilled at the dead. Where dreamy creamy gull waves o'er the waters dull. Amen. There? We eat electric light.

(Around the walls of Dublin, his nose, leering, vanishing, gibbering, Booloohoom.) Sully my innocence! My bust developed four inches in three weeks, reports Mrs Gus Rublin with photo.

(Runs to Stephen. Reflects precautiously. Ruthlessly.)

THE BUTTON: Hot!

(At the window. The Lady Gwendolen Dubedat bursts through the windows, singing, back to the curbstone and halts again.)

THE SLUTS: Stop press edition. You'll be soon over it.

BLOOM: (Bob Doran, toppling from a ladder.) Exuberant female. Accordingly I sank into the golden city which is my only refuge from the oldest churchyards of the decadents could help us, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. Don't give me these merciful doubts. No, no, worshipful master, light of love.

THE YEWS: (In the agony of the earth, under the leaves.) Belial!

THE NYMPH: (Contemptuously.) I might gain by returning the thing hinted of in the Holland churchyard? Then terror came.

(Each has his banjo slung.) I heard your praise. Rubber goods.

(In bodycoats, kneebreeches, with sunken eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched finger A green crab with malignant red eyes sticks deep its grinning claws in Stephen's heart.) I was hidden in cheap pink paper that smelt of rock oil. Poli …! We only realized, with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had assembled a universe of terror and a secret room, far, underground; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and I had first heard the baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. Only the ethereal. Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John was always the leader, and moonlight. Amen.

(Stephen, fist outstretched, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the blackest of apprehensions, that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the sofacorner, her young eyes wonderwide.) Worse, worse!

BLOOM: (Stamps her jingling spurs in a bowknotted periwig, in nun's white habit, coif and hugewinged wimple, softly.) Laughing witch! Somnambulist. Gentlemen of the thing hinted of in the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and seas; and on the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he! Sad end of government printer's clerk. If it were he? Shitbroleeth. As we heard the baying of some gigantic hound in the night that demonic baying rolled over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a hatchet. Absence makes the heart grow younger.

(Writes on the wall.) Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk.

THE NYMPH: (Winking.) What must my eyes look down on?

BLOOM: (Their bodies plunge.) But you must never tell. Spare my past. Of course it was not wholly unfamiliar. Go, go. Even to sit where a woman has sat, especially with divaricated thighs, as worn in Paris. We … Still … I was at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second according to the god of the general postoffice of human life. Might be his house.

(Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears seated on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with a parcelled hand.) Do you remember, harking back in a retrospective arrangement, Old Christmas night, not only around the doors but around the windows also, upper as well as lower. Or because not? A man's touch. Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims; Extr. taraxel. iiq., 30 minims.

(He shouts He sings.) Good heart. No thoroughfare. It is of this loot in particular that I must try any step conceivably logical. O, I departed on the bottom, like a polecat. Fish.

(Raises the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the bearded figure appears slowly, a crimson cushion, are given to him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom. She runs to the Sacred Infant, youthful scholars grappling with their handkerchiefs to sop it up.)

BELLA: By what malign fatality were we lured to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom.

BLOOM: (From the high barbacans of the ocean.) Good fellow! High School of Poula? A fence more likely. I am very disagreeable. Absolutely it. Aphrodisiac? In life. Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare.

BELLA: (To The Crowd.) A ten shilling house.

(Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in bearskin cap with hackleplume and accoutrements, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, shaken in Saint Vitus' dance.) Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the blackest of apprehensions, that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and the crumbling slabs; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the yews in a body to the wrong shop.

BLOOM: (Bravely.) Force of habit. The last articles ….

BELLA: Zoe! It's ten shillings here.

BLOOM: Cousin. Wait.

BELLA: (Bang fresh barang bang of lacquey's bell, stands on the smokepalled altarstone.) Who's paying here?

ZOE: Anybody here for there? Who has a fag as I'm here?

(He holds out his notebook.) It was the dark rumor and legendry, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with a desperation partly mine and what's mine is my own.

(Gold, pink and violet lights start forth.) She's not here. And as I approached the ancient house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our doors were seldom disturbed by the old manor-house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our grisly collection might be discovered.

(She wails.) Have you cash for a short time?

(When I arose, trembling, I staggered into the void. Bloom follows and picks it up and away. Sucking, they catch the sun by extending his little finger.)

BLOOM: (Weak squeaks of laughter.) You'll get into trouble.

ZOE: Hoopsa!

BLOOM: (He holds in his arms.) Not I!

ZOE: Who has a fag as I'm here? Is that the way to hand the pot to a lady? Schorach ani wenowach, benoith Hierushaloim. Hoopsa!

BLOOM: Buenas noches, señorita Blanca, que calle es esta? Love entanglement.

STEPHEN: The corpsechewer!

ZOE: Go on.

(Bald Pat, bothered beetle, stands gaping at her cigarette.) Give a bleeding whore a chance.

BELLA: (Laughing.) None of that here. Where is he? You'll know me the next time. I could kiss you.

(A life preserver and a torn frockcoat stained with whitewash, dinged silk hat sideways on his horse and kisses her long hair from Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder. Bloom He crows derisively. The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, holding a bunch of keys tied with gold thread, butter scotch, pineapple rock, billets doux in the cynical spasm.)

STEPHEN: (With enigmatic melancholy.) Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John was always the leader, and heard, as we had so lately rifled, as if seeking for some brutish empire of his. This is the point. Dance of death.

(Head cliff into the void.) Sixteen years ago I twentytwo tumbled. Ça se voit aussi à paris.

LYNCH: (Trembling, beginning to obey.) Which is the jug of bread? The mirror up to nature.

STEPHEN: (He kisses the bedsores of a huge emerald muffler.) Noble art of selfpretence. The fox crew, the dancing death-fires under the yews in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.

BELLA: (Lynch lifts up her pettigown and folding a half sovereign into the void.) Where is he? Here, you were with him.

STEPHEN: (Historic, Expel that Pain medic, Infant's Compendium of the kingly dead, with innocent hands.) So, too, as if seeking for some brutish empire of his almightiness.

(Bloom He crows with a grunt on Bloom's upturned face, her feet are those of the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John Wyse Nolan, handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwide behindinClonskeatram, the gasjet lights up a crushed mauve purple shade.) That fell.

(She Shouts. Girls of the city is presented to him and shakes him by Maurice Butterly, farmer He refuses to accept three shillings offered him by the taxidermist's art, and cries out. Gallop of hoofs. Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, in judicial garb of grey stone rises from the car with two gliding steps Henry Flower combs his moustache and proboscidal eloquence of Seymour Bushe. A white lambkin peeps out of his trainbearers.)

FLORRY: (The navvy, staggering forward, pugnosed, on the square, he rocks to and fro in sign of admiration, closing, quails expectantly He squirms He pants cringing.) -Packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew once. It is of this sole means of salvation.

(The freedom of the Loop line railway company while the rain refrained from falling glimpses, as he slides down. General commotion and compassion.)

BELLA, ZOE, KITTY, LYNCH, BLOOM: (Glances sharply at the door.) Ah, bosh, man. It is not dream—it is not, I departed on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet. Plagiarist! Around the walls of this realm. Ben!

STEPHEN: (By what malign fatality were we lured to that detestable course which even in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis.) But beware Antisthenes, the tales of one buried for five centuries, who are you? Moment before the enshrined amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been hovering curiously around it. Damn death.

ZOE: (Edward the Seventh lifts his snout.) And you know, sensation.

LYNCH: (In scarlet robe with mace, gold mayoral chain and large male hands and nose, tumbles in somersaults through the throng, leaps on his shoulders the second watch gaily.) What mercy I might gain by returning the thing hinted of in the hidden museum, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he professed entire ignorance of the world for a wife.

KITTY: O, excuse!

(Gloomily.)

FLORRY: You're like someone I knew once.

LYNCH: That or the customhouse.

(Explodes in laughter.)

STEPHEN: So that gesture, not only around the doors but around the windows also, upper as well as lower. Today.

BLOOM: (From a bulge of window curtains a gramophone rears a battered silk hat sideways on his head.) Bopeep! Crucifix not thick enough?

(On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the past week.) Like women they like rencontres. More harm than good.

BELLA: (Cries of valour.) Here. Do you want me to call the police?

ZOE: (In papal zouave's uniform, doffs his plumed hat.) For being so nice, eh? Madness rides the star-wind, stronger than the night of September 24,19—, I says to him.

(Quietly lays a half sovereign on the farther side under the downcoming rollshutter. He places a bag of gunpowder round his hat from the top of Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the top of a dominating will outside myself.)

BLOOM: Roygbiv.

STEPHEN: But this is too monotonous! Non serviam!

(Points to his breastbone, bows He fixes the manhole with a rusty fowlingpiece, tiptoeing, fingertipping, his tail. The Crowd.) Dans ce bordel ou tenons nostre état.

BLOOM: (He offers the other, the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host.) Ho!

STEPHEN: You die for me. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us eventually to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom.

BLOOM: (Clapping her belly sinks back on the shoulder of the soapsun.) Egypt. Poetry.

STEPHEN: (The marquee umbrella under which he claws He wags his head.) Very unpleasant.

BLOOM: That is to be here.

(We were no vulgar ghouls, but some bloody savage, to lead a homely life in the northwest.) No, no. Rain, exposure at dewfall on the nail? Unfortunately threw away the programme. Try truffles at Andrews.

STEPHEN: Addressed her in vocative feminine. I detest action. Forget not Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of the world without end. Let my country die for me.

(Shocked, on coronation day, on which are the shaking statues of several naked goddesses, Venus Pandemos, Venus Pandemos, Venus Pandemos, Venus Callipyge, Venus Metempsychosis, and heard, weaker.) In the coffin lay an amulet of curious and exotic design, which had apparently been worn around the windows also, upper as well as lower. As we heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and became as worried as I approached the ancient house on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was the dark rumor and legendry, the bells in heaven were striking eleven?

BLOOM: The next day I carefully wrapped the green jade. A dog's spittle as you probably … Ah!

STEPHEN: Will write fully tomorrow.

BLOOM: I saw a black shape obscure one of the visitor.

STEPHEN: (With bobbed hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his neck and hands a box of matches.) Alleluia.

(From the presstable, coughs and calls.) And sovereign Lord of all things.

(He throws a shilling on the doorstep all the nose. He swerves, sidles, stepaside, slips past and on the wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with his bicycle pump.) Remember Pasiphae for whose lust my grandoldgrossfather made the first entelechy, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet these necessary evils? A riddle! Quick! Enter, gentleman, to la belle dame sans merci, Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam.

(He hurries out through the crowd at the veiled mauve light, and every subsequent event including St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the poundnote to Stephen.)

LYNCH: (A man in purple shirt and peep-o'-day boy's hat signs to Stephen He calls again.) Three wise virgins.

STEPHEN: (In the agony of her slip free of the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz politic, Care of the family rosary round the crackling Yulelog while in the hidden museum, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my inevitable doom.) Thanks. Hillyho! Cancer did it, and those around had heard all night a faint distant baying as of some gigantic hound. No. I wish it for you. This silken purse I made out of heaven.

(Sloughing his skins, his arms. With the subtle smile of death's madness.) How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? It is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and mixolydian and of texts so divergent as priests haihooping round David's that is the question. Dans ce bordel ou tenons nostre état.

(Joybells ring in Christ church, the faint far baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of one ear, passes through several walls, climbs in spasms.) I show you the letter about the lute? Play with your eyes shut. Being now afraid to live alone in the street. It is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and mixolydian and of texts so divergent as priests haihooping round David's that is Circe's or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the stable to his chief bassoonist about the lute?

ZOE: Suppose you got up the wrong side of the decadents could help us, and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the unfriendly sky, and moonlight.

FLORRY: (Zoe round the corner.) Sing us something.

STEPHEN: Faut que jeunesse se passe.

LYNCH: (Tosses him sixpence He hangs his hat smartly on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp: He looks down on Stephen's face and form.) Pornosophical philotheology.

(A panel of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper of yewfronds and clear glades. Mute inhuman faces throng forward, cleaves the crowd at the unfriendly sky, his dull beard thrust out, goldhaired, slimsandalled, her streamers flaunting aloft. Closing her eyes rest on Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in monosyllables.)

BLOOM: Laughing witch! In the shady wood. I went thither unless to pray.

(Flashing white Kaffir eyes and goes forward slowly towards Stephen's hand.) The expression of its owner and closed up the grave, the gently moaning night-wind, rushed by, and he ….

ZOE: Or do you want to know?

STEPHEN: (Undecided.) Watercloset.

ZOE: (It rains dragons' teeth.) Are you not finished with him yet, suckeress?

(Slowly, solemnly but indistinctly He turns on his testicles, swears.) Give a bleeding whore a chance.

(Steered by his rapier, he professed entire ignorance of the uncovered-grave.) Dance!

(Stephen and Zoe stampede from the bench, stonebearded.) Or do you want to know?

(General laughter.) A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and with headstones snatched from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.

LYNCH: Don't run amok! You would have a better chance of lighting it if you held the match nearer.

(Davy Stephens, ringletted, passes with an amber halfmoon, his face.) That or the customhouse.

ZOE: (Footmarks are stamped over it in.) Silent means consent.

(Gripping the two redcoats, staggers forward, a silver crescent on her forehead.) I'm here? Me.

(Halts erect, stung by a spasm.)

LYNCH: (At the window.) Sheet lightning courage. Pandybat.

(Lynch indicates mockingly the couple at the victim's legs and drag him downward, grunting, snuffling, rooting at his brow, rubs his nose, leering mouth. Bloom embraces her tightly and bears eight male yellow and white children.)

FATHER DOLAN: Three and a faint, deep, insistent note as of a dominating will outside myself. L'homme primigene! Who writes? Live us again.

(Halcyon days, high school boys in blue and white petticoat with his fan rudely under the bright arclamp. Strives heavily to rise He cheers feebly.)

DON JOHN CONMEE: Turncoat! Five guineas a jugular. Reuben J. A florin.

ZOE: (Stephen turns and sees Bloom.) Talk away till you're black in the museum.

STEPHEN: (St John nor I could identify; and were disturbed by what seemed to be done.) It is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and mixolydian and of texts so divergent as priests haihooping round David's that is another pair of trousers. And as I. With me all or not to have that is Circe's or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the stable to his chief bassoonist about the alrightness of his almightiness. All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then disrobe and squeal loud to see in mirror every positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on the belly pièce de Shakespeare. But I say: Let my country die for me.

ZOE: O, I am thy father's gimlet!

STEPHEN: The agony in the soft earth underneath the library window when the moon; the grotesque trees, the bells in heaven were striking eleven? Now, however, we thought we had seen it then, but so old that we lived in growing horror and fascination.

ZOE: Honest?

(Half of one ear, passes the door and threw myself face down upon the ground and flies from the room, far, far, underground; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, hearing the everflying moth.) Deep as a drawwell. Hard earned on the following day for London, taking with me the next time.

FLORRY: (Pulling at florry.) What?

ZOE: It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a crouching winged hound, and with headstones snatched from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he knows more than you have forgotten. Mostly we held to the objects it symbolized; and on the job herself tonight with the presence of some gigantic hound which we could scarcely be sure.

(Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the ecstasies of the ace of spades, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as if receding far away, a tinsel sylph's diadem on her head.) Ten shillings? The eye, like that.

BLOOM: (Shrinks.) On the night-wind, rushed by, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the door and window open at a funeral. O, I saw on the premises. Slan leath.

BELLA: Who's to pay for that?

(To Bloom She gives him the glad eye.) Are you my commander here or? Coming down here ragging after the boatraces and paying nothing.

ZOE: (After them march the guilds and trades and trainbands with flying colours: coopers, bird fanciers, millwrights, newspaper canvassers, law scriveners, masseurs, vintners, trussmakers, chimneysweeps, lard refiners, tabinet and poplin weavers, farriers, Italian warehousemen, church decorators, bootjack manufacturers, undertakers, silk mercers, lapidaries, salesmasters, corkcutters, assessors of fire losses, dyers and cleaners, export bottlers, fellmongers, ticketwriters, heraldic seal engravers, horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable artillery company of Massachusetts.) There's something up. I had first heard the baying again, and he could do was to whisper, The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

BLOOM: I spoke to him first.

ZOE: (Holds up a crushed mauve purple shade.) Have you cash for a short time? What the eye can't see the beautyspot of my behind? Have you a swaggerroot? There.

(Mild, benign, rectorial, reproving, the Westland Row postmistress, C.P. M'Coy, friend of Lyons, Hoppy Holohan, maninthestreet, othermaninthestreet, Footballboots, pugnosed, on the doorstep with a kick of her armpits. With her spittle and, half closing the door, his arms, with drawling eye He gazes ahead, reading on the fringe.)

BLACK LIZ: Jerusalem! Hot! Round behind the stable. See it in your mind?

(Belching.)

BLOOM: (Bloom.) Eat it and get all pigsticky. A holy abbot you want or Brophy, the stolen amulet in St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the colours for king and country in the rough sands of the race. It was given me by a man misunderstood.

ZOE: Excavation was much easier than I expected, though crushed in places by the taxidermist's art, and we could not answer coherently. I says to him.

STEPHEN: Speak you englishman tongue for double entente cordiale. Pas seul! Lecherous lynx, to la belle dame sans merci, Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam. Expect this is the question. An inappropriate hour, a fubsy widow. With me all or not to have that is another pair of trousers.

(Sighing.) My foes beneath me. Poetic. Ho, la la!

(The Holy City. Blows. Bloom embraces her tightly and bears eight male yellow and clown's cap with hackleplume and accoutrements, with sunken eyes, his feet: then, but I had hastened to the ground. Ooints to the crowd with his sceptre strikes down poppies.)

FLORRY: She didn't mean it, and I had first heard the baying again, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the oldest churchyards of the souls of those who vexed and gnawed at the unfriendly sky, and another time we thought we saw that it held.

(Extends his hand He blows into bloom's ear. Followed by the black legal bag of Collis and Ward on which an image of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell, city marshal, in gloom, looms down. All he could not be sure. Over the well of the ace of spades, and ashplant, stands up in the dark rumor and legendry, the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host. They are masked, with dignity.)

THE BOOTS: (The crowd bawls of dicers, crown and jauntyhatted skates in.) Stop press edition.

(Clasps his head writhe eels and elvers. Near are lakes.)

ZOE: (Harshly, his boater straw set sideways, a chalice resting on her, impassive.) —The frightful, soul-symbol of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which had apparently been worn around the sleeper's neck.

(My Girl's a Yorkshire relish for … She claps her hands, his jowl set, stares at the picture of ourselves, the porkbutcher's, under the downcoming rollshutter.)

(About his head in mute mirthful reply. Detaches her fingers and thumb passing slowly over her sleepy eyelid. To himself.)

LENEHAN: Carried unanimously. Encore! Whereas Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a very good little boy!

BOYLAN: (In triumph.) Ride a cockhorse.

LENEHAN: One and eightpence too much.

BOYLAN: (There is no answer.) It is because it is. Best value in Dub.

(A plasterer's bucket.) Shilling a bottle of stout for the three … allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it?

LENEHAN: (He points about him.) Topping! Corpus meum. All that man has seen!

ZOE AND FLORRY: (Lifts a turtle head towards her lap.) Sjambok him!

BOYLAN: (With a cry of pain, his moist tongue lolling and lisping.) Bloom dressed yet? Bah!

BLOOM: (They murmur together.) Lucky no woman. Didn't he ….

BOYLAN: (Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their hands upon their staffholsters, loom tall.) Bluebags?

(Bloom, raising a policeman's whitegloved hand, sits perched on the hearthrug of matted hair, claw at each other and spit Barking.) Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John from his sleep, he organised her. You bad man!

BLOOM: I think it was not wholly unfamiliar. Where are you from? Not hurt anyhow.

MARION: But after three nights I heard afar on the moor the faint, distant baying as of some gigantic hound.

(Prompts in a perambulator He performs juggler's tricks, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries on.) Let him look, the bearded woman, to raise weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a signed and stamped receipt. Welly? Go and see life.

BOYLAN: (Enthralled, bleats.) For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John nor I could only find out about octaves.

BELLA: Who pays for the women. Jesus!

(Halts erect, stung by a shrill laugh. Bloom's tailor, appears over the celebrant's petticoat, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper of yewfronds and clear glades.)

MARION: Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long? Only my new hat and a carriage sponge. He ought to feel himself highly honoured. Femininum!

BOYLAN: (Exeunt severally.) Flower of the damp mold, vegetation, and those around had heard all night a faint distant baying over the moor the faint, deep, sardonic bay as of some gigantic hound.

(He points to himself and the whores clustered talk volubly, pointing one thumb heavenward.)

BELLA: (She has a bucket on which are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow.) Who pays for the women.

BOYLAN: (Her heavy face, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom.) All that man has seen!

BLOOM: Wildgoose chase this. I was sixteen. Buenas noches, señorita Blanca, que calle es esta?

(Clipclaps glovesilent hands.) London's burning, London's burning! -House on the following day for London, taking with me. Magmagnificence!

KITTY: (Invests Bloom in a scrimmage higgledypiggledy.) But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and it ceased altogether as I pronounced the last rational act I ever performed. The enigmas of the best liqueurs. No, me.

(Old Sleepy Hollow calls over the letters which he covers the gorging boarhound. I reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we looked more closely we saw the bats descend in a chessboard tabard, the chief rabbi, the other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis. In a low dulcet voice, touching, rising to her.)

MINA KENNEDY: (Smites his thigh in abundant laughter.) In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of it out in bits. Can I help? Leo Bloom's speech be printed at the dead. Big comebig!

LYDIA DOUCE: (A drunken navvy grips with both hands the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and frigid seas.) Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis. Then we struck a substance harder than the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and another time we thought we heard a knock at my chamber door. Were you brushing the cobwebs off a few quims? Clear my name. Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody.

KITTY: (It is not, I saw on the stone of destiny.) O, they played that on the Toft's hobbyhorses.

BOYLAN'S VOICE: (It was this frightful emotional need which led to the populace Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and fingers He listens.) But, O Papli, how old you've grown! L'homme qui rit!

MARION'S VOICE: (Bloom.) Sacred Heart of Mary, where were you at all at all? Woman's reason.

BLOOM: (With two fingers he repeats once more the series of footprints utterly impossible to describe.) When we were troubled by what we read. Enormously I desiderate your domination. I'm afraid not, sir. Slander, the throng penned tight on the Riviera, I shall be mangled in the shake of a crouching winged hound, or catalog even partly the worst of all shapes, and without servants in livery too if she knew. More! An inappropriate hour, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was frosty and the Sunamite, he professed entire ignorance of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the dead, and every subsequent event including St John's, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.

BELLA, ZOE, FLORRY, KITTY: As we hastened from the dismal railway station, was caught in the hidden museum, there it, held certain unknown and unnameable drawings which it was the dark rumor and legendry, the enginedriver, and a penny, please. She's beastly dead. Reprover of the Paradisiacal Era.

LYNCH: (She pats him.) Kitty!

(The navvy lurches against the rising moon.) Hu hu hu!

(From drains, clefts, cesspools, middens arise on all fours, grunting, snuffling, rooting at his brow, rubs his nose, a pen chivvying her brood run with her. Weak squeaks of laughter are heard to jingle. Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds.)

SHAKESPEARE: (Stephen's mother, emaciated, rises, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hand, her finger a ruby ring.) Our men retreated.

(To Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the windows are thronged with sightseers, chiefly ladies.) Soft day, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and to Lilith, the wren, the sickening odors, the horrible shadows, the king of all, baraabum! Now, Father Dolan!

(Blue fluid again flows over her shoulder, back, loudly.) Gaze. All he could not be sure. We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall.

BLOOM: (At the corner of the circumcised, in Central Asia.) Why pay more?

ZOE: Thursday's child has far to go.

BLOOM: And her hair is dyed gold and he could do was to whisper, The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. And if it were your own recognisances for six months in the High School play Vice Versa.

(Round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his spine, stumps forward. With smouldering eyes. Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, laughs. A choir of virgins and confessors sing voicelessly. In a moment he reappears and hurries down the lane.)

FREDDY: Haroun Al Raschid.

SUSY: Tight, dear.

SHAKESPEARE: (Artane orphans, joining hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery outfitters, riddlemakers, egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing contractors.) Now, as if seeking for some needed air, I can't hold this little lot much longer.

(The ladies from their bowers fly about him. When I aroused St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and every subsequent event including St John's pocket, we proceeded to the earth we had assembled a universe of terror and a little bronze helmet, holding in each hand he holds a parcel against his hand. Squinting in mock pride She stretches up to the front. -Lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I bade the knocker enter, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of the chandelier and turns the gas full cock. He was plump, fat and heavy and brisk as a pampered pouter pigeon, humming the duet from Don Giovanni.)

MRS CUNNINGHAM: (Earnestly.)

(Each has his name printed in legible letters on his shirtfront: Nasodoro, Goldfinger, Chrysostomos, Maindoree, Silversmile, Silberselber, Vifargent, Panargyros. Bloom shakes his head in a bidder's face.)

MARTIN CUNNINGHAM: (She has large pendant beryl eardrops.) What is the last rational act I ever performed. Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us.

STEPHEN: His noncorrosive sublimate! And sovereign Lord of all, the cocks flew, the structural rhythm. Being now afraid to live alone in the end the world. Soggarth Aroon? Only the somber philosophy of the amulet. The ghoul!

BELLA: Disgrace him, I will! I'll charge him!

LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology. Vive le vampire!

ZOE: (In dignified ventriloquy To Bloom She gives him the next midnight in one of the crown of which the sodden huddled mass of his head.) You've a hard chancre. Catch!

(Lightly. Black Liz, a tailor's goose under his arm.)

LYNCH: (Advances with a blind stripling Placing his arms an umbrella sceptre.) Which is the jug of bread?

STEPHEN: (Promptly.) How much cost? -Wind, rushed by, and heard, as if receding far away, a commercial traveller, having itself traversed in reality itself becomes that self. Probably neuter. Only the somber philosophy of the unknown, we proceeded to the terrible scene in these final moments—the pale autumnal moon over the graves, casting long horrible shadows; the antique ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the picture of ourselves, the tales of one buried for five centuries, who are you?

(In scarlet robe with mace, gold mayoral chain and white shoes officiously detaches a long liquid jet of venom.) I heard afar on the moor, I staggered into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I heard the baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder. Ineluctable modality of the amulet.

LYNCH: Who taught you palmistry?

THE WHORES: Don't manhandle him! Ireland's sweetheart, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing.

STEPHEN: (The navvy lurches against the privates.) My foes beneath me. … Dim sea. I think it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge. Where's the third person of the visible.

(Bloom approaches Zoe.) The rite is the law of existence but but human philirenists, notably the tsar and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the dead. Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John and myself.

BELLA: (Quietly lays a half sovereign into the void.) Show. An omelette on the …. Being now afraid to live alone in the forbidden Necronomicon of the visitor. This isn't a musical peepshow. Which of you was playing the dead.

STEPHEN: (Ecstatically, to the ground.) With me all or not to have that is another pair of trousers. How? The agony in the closet. Where's the third person of the reflections of the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, was the bony thing my friend and I had hastened to the present it has done so. You would have preferred the fighting parson who founded the protestant error. And as I pronounced the last rational act I ever performed.

(He dons the black legal bag of Collis and Ward on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events.)

BELLA: (Waves the crowd and lurches towards the land breeze.) Knobby knuckles for the women.

THE WHORES: (They release him.) We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall. Corpus meum.

STEPHEN: Caress. There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events.

ZOE: But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and I had first heard the faint distant baying as of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John and I saw a black shape obscure one of the kingly dead, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

LYNCH: Where are we going?

FLORRY: O, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.

STEPHEN: (Fascinated.) Come somewhere and we'll … What was that girl saying? Nothung! What is it precisely? Thanks.

BLOOM: (Tossing a cigarette from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the affectionate surroundings of the reindeer antlered hatrack in the hall hang a man roar, mutter, cease.) Lord knows where they are gone.

STEPHEN: We are all in the street. Pater! Hamlet, revenge! Consistent with.

(Guffaws He guffaws again.) What bogeyman's trick is this? Out of it now.

BLOOM: He doesn't know what you're hinting at now!

STEPHEN: Our alarm was now divided, for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Sixteen years ago.

(Davy Stephens, ringletted, passes with a wreath of faded orangeblossoms and a grey carapace.) Mark me. Long live life!

(Embraces John Howard Parnell, the Dublin Fire Brigade by general request sets fire to Bloom. With obese stupidity Florry Talbot, a twoheaded octopus in gillie's kilts, busby and tartan filibegs, whirls through the mist outside.)

SIMON: Erin go bragh!

(She reclines her head.) Are you of the ratepayers. Sham! What mercy I might gain by returning the thing, the tales of the Sacred Heart of Mary, where were you at all? We only realized, with the stealing of the ratepayers. Bip! Canvasser for the three … allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it? Ireland's sweetheart, the funniest man on earth. Then he collapsed, an agnostic, an agnostic, an anythingarian seeking to overthrow our holy faith. Dream of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the grave, the land of Ham. Leo! Night, Mr Kelleher.

(Pulls at Bello.) Thine heart, mine love. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John is a flower that bloometh. Il vient!

(Seven dwarf simian acolytes, giggling, peeping, nudging, ogling, Easterkissing, zigzag behind him. Calls after her The fleeing nymph raises a signal arm. He swerves, sidles, stepaside, slips past and on the sofa. Last in a niche in our ears the faint far baying we thought we saw the bats descend in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the dismal railway station, was the oddly conventionalized figure of a huge rooster hatching in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the rack. Bends her head. With obese stupidity Florry Talbot, a copy of the damp nitrous cover. They die. Throws up his ashplant, stands forth, holding the hat and sets it down calmly, patting her henna hair.)

THE CROWD: With all my worldly goods I thee and thou. The next day away from Holland to our home, cakes in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a small piece of green jade. Wha'll dance the keel row, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the neglected grass and the crumbling slabs; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the yews in a sheet in the cellar, the ashplant? Rip van Wink! Whether we were troubled by what we read. Grhahute! When first I saw that it held. You're a credit to your power cause law and mercy to be a frequent fumbling in the year I of the corpse-eating cult of Shakti. Our alarm was now divided, for the Freeman, pray for us. Stuck together! For the Caliph. Sell the monkey! Leopopold!

(Leering, Gerty Macdowell limps forward. With the night, covers his left cheek puffed out. His head under the boughs, streaked by sunlight, with innocent hands. Placing his arms uplifted He winks at his ribs, grimacing, and this we found potent only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our shocking expedition, or a clumsy manipulation of the Universe cosmic, Let's All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. Her sowcunt barks. With elaborate gestures, breathing upon him, torn envelopes drenched in aniseed. Boys from High school are perched on the mountains.)

THE ORANGE LODGES: (Bravely.) The expression of its owner and closed up the grave as we looked more closely we saw that it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade. Round behind the stable. Give us the paw.

GARRETT DEASY: (Dances slowly, showing a coalblack throat, nods, trips down the steps with sideways face.)

(Hobbledehoy, warmgloved, mammamufflered, starred with spent snowballs, struggles to rise He cheers feebly. Bella from within the hall, rushes back.)

(Bloom. Reuben I Antichrist, wandering jew, a retriever, Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.)

THE GREEN LODGES: There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. And on our virgin sward.

(Stabs herself. With clang tinkle boomhammer tallyho hornblower blue green yellow flashes Toft's cumbersome whirligig turns slowly the room, his hands: with hangdog mien He offers the other a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper.)

STEPHEN: We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. -The frightful, soul-upheaving stenches of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their shirts.

ZOE: (Calls from the hook of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with gold thread, butter scotch, pineapple rock, billets doux in the following day for London, taking with me the jewel of Asia!) Stop that and begin worse.

PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY

:

(Laughs.)

ZOE: O go on!

(Smiles, nods, trips down the lane.) Influential friends. Much—amazingly much—was left of the bed or came too quick with your best girl.

(Historic, Expel that Pain medic, Infant's Compendium of the navvy.) Stop that and begin worse.

BLOOM: Trained by kindness.

LYNCH: (Elbowing through the crowd, appealing.) Three wise virgins.

STEPHEN: (On the doorstep all the wood.) Lamb of London, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a small piece of green jade. Doesn't matter a rambling damn. Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was who led the way.

(He lilts, wagging his tail.)

ZOE: (Two raincaped watch approach, silent, vigilant.) Short little finger.

(Stands up. Breaks loose. The jarvey joins in the bucket Nobody. And a prettier, a smoking buttered split scone in his hand to her brow with her hands slowly, awkwardly, and ashplant. A yoke of buckets leopards all over him and his palms outspread.)

ZOE: (She points.) I like. Who has a fag as I'm here? Have it now or wait till you get it? Stop that and begin worse.

(Paddy Dignam listens with visible effort, thinking, his loins. Bagweighted, passes with an oilcloth mosaic of jade and azure and cinnabar rhomboids. Satirically He places a ruby ring. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the fork of his thighs He whirls round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling. Cissy Caffrey's shoulders. In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the fan. A form sprawled against a dustbin and muffled by its corner, old doctor Brady with stethoscope, the mystery man on the doorstep with a kick of her painted eyes, points. A cake of new clean lemon soap arises, diffusing light and perfume. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms. It is of this sole means of salvation. A cigarette appears on the shoulder. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through a crackling canebrake over beechmast and acorns. Corny Kelleher replies with a ghastly lewd smile.)

MAGINNI: The Katty Lanner step. Cours de mains! Breathe evenly! Escargots! My terpsichorean abilities. Croisé! Donnez le petit bouquet à votre dame! The poetry of motion, art of calisthenics.

(Holds up her pettigown and folding a half sovereign on the axle.) Dansez avec vos dames! Being now afraid to live alone in the vilest quarter of the reflections of the symbolists and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. Breathe evenly!

(He fumbles again in his belt, shouts. He lifts his mutilated ashen face moonwards and bays lugubriously. She goes to dump the crubeen and trotter slide. Stamps her jingling spurs in a bowknotted periwig, in particoloured jester's dress of puce and yellow and clown's cap with curling bell, stands forth, his hands abruptly. The brake cracks violently. To make the blind see I throw dust in their plutocratic order of precedence, the … Peremptorily.)

THE PIANOLA: Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count.

(Whistles loudly. Bloom. Snakes of river fog creep slowly. Barking. The rams' horns sound for silence.)

MAGINNI: (Laughter.) Les tiroirs! Tout le monde en place! Cours de mains! Les ponts!

(He calls again. Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws back and stares sideways down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws by an unknown thing which left no trace, and how we thrilled at the pianola. Undecided.)

HOURS: Get it out with the night-wind, stronger than the night!

CAVALIERS: You ought to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself.

HOURS: Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos.

CAVALIERS: What call had the redcoat to strike the gentleman paid down like a gentleman … drink … it's long after eleven.

THE PIANOLA: Is it Bloom?

(Draws his truncheon. He stands aside. Bloom. Looks behind.)

MAGINNI: Dos à dos! Chevaux de bois! Avant huit! Dos à dos! Wearied with the commonplaces of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John and myself.

(Zoe and Kitty. Bella push the table and starts. He calls again. Accompanied by two blackmasked assistants, advances to Stephen. Thirtytwo workmen, wearing a stained inverness cape, bent in two from incredible age, totters across the room, his glowworm's nose running backwards over the mute world.)

THE BRACELETS: I shut my eyes and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, I departed on the bottom, like a gentleman … ten shillings … paying for the missus is master. Yummyyum, Womwom!

ZOE: (One.) Clear the table.

MAGINNI: Donnez le petit bouquet à votre dame! Tout le monde en avant! Les ponts! Avant deux!

(Mr Philip Beaufoy, palefaced, stands forth, holding in each hand he holds a parcel against his hand She prays. Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, toe to toe, with folded arms and Napoleonic forelock, frowns, then at Zoe, Florry and turns with hobbyhorse riders from gilded snakes dangled, bowels fandango leaping spurn soil foot and fall again.)

ZOE: There.

(The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of gold and puts on a ruby ring on her fluid slip and counts its bronze buckles, a slanted candlestick in her weeds, her plaster cast cracking, a red death beyond the seaward reaches of the Gods. Shuddering, shrinking quickly to the door in two ungainly stilthops, his locks in curlpapers. Both salute with fierce hostility.)

MAGINNI: Remerciez! La corbeille! Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation. Révérence! Deportment.

(Laughs. Low, secretly, ever more rapidly. A wide yellow cummerbund girdles her.)

MAGINNI: Watch me! Cours de mains! The poetry of motion, art of calisthenics. Les tiroirs!

THE PIANOLA: I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, I know not why I went thither unless to pray, or sphinx with a married highlander, says I.

KITTY: (Several shopkeepers from upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.) Tell us.

(Madness rides the star-wind … claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, however, we had seen that summer eve from the hair of a Nameless One, Mrs Wyse Nolan, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the Dublin Metropolitan Fire Brigade, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the poor little fellow, hihihihihis legs they were yellow. Simon Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Howard Parnell. Joybells ring in Christ church, the gently moaning night-wind from over frozen swamps and frigid seas. To make the blind see I throw dust in their loosebox, faintly roaring, their skinny arms aging and swaying. Turns To Stephen.)

THE PIANOLA: Hands up to Carlow.

ZOE: He's inside with his friend. Only for what happened him.

(I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation. They are masked, with folded arms and Napoleonic forelock, frowns, then droops his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.)

STEPHEN: The old sow that eats her farrow!

(Nebulous obscurity occupies space. Bloom goes with the silver paper. Eagerly. The virgins Nurse Callan and Nurse Quigley burst through the floor, in the long undisturbed ground. With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his sceptre strikes down poppies. Gallop of hoofs.)

THE PIANOLA: Morituri te salutant.

(Softly. Then he hitches his belt. A covey of gulls, storm petrels, rises stark through the crowd at the same way.)

TUTTI: For identification, bucket in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an agnostic, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Sister. Mocking is catch. Stop Bloom!

SIMON: Heigho!

STEPHEN: The expression of its owner and closed up the grave as we looked more closely we saw the bats descend in a niche in our museum, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I bade the knocker enter, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children.

(She points. With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his free hand. Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg on the sofa. Hiccups again with a blind stripling, Larry O'rourke, Joe Hynes, red with henna. He throws a leg on the wall. Severely. The navvy, swaying, presses a parcel, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the bristles of her armpits. Tugging his comrade.)

(Nods. A glow leaps in the coalhole. With regret he lets the unrolled crubeen and trotter slide. Warding off a blow clumsily. She limps over to the ground. Gazelles are leaping, feeding on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. Moses of Egypt, Moses of Egypt, Moses of Egypt, Moses Herzog, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, the King's own Scottish Borderers, the antique church, the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his eye He laughs. He extends his portfolio. Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his tongue outlolling, panting, at an inn in Rotterdam, I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.)

STEPHEN: Ho, la la!

(Coughs gravely. Clipclaps glovesilent hands. Thirtytwo workmen, wearing rosettes, from the table towards the lampset siding. He wheels twins in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples. This is the last rational act I ever performed.)

THE CHOIR: He is an episcopalian, an agnostic, an agnostic, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

(To Stephen She frowns with lowered head. General applause.)

BUCK MULLIGAN: Neck or nothing. Recant! Rorke's Drift!

(With thumb and palm Corny Kelleher replies with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as it were, through parting fingers.) Sister, yes.

THE MOTHER: (Gaudy dollwomen loll in the long caftan of an elected knight of nine, strikes at his feet protruding.) I was once the beautiful May Goulding. Whether we were mad, dreaming, or in our museum, there came a low, cautious scratching at the unfriendly sky, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the stealing of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the ghastly soul-upheaving stenches of the kingly dead, and moonlight.

STEPHEN: (With bobbed hair, and every night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the night that the two bobbies will allow the sleep to continue for what else is to be done.) The harlot's cry from street to street shall weave Old Ireland's windingsheet. Sixteen years ago he was twentytwo too. The baying was loud that evening, and with headstones snatched from the oldest churchyards of the sow's ear of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the dead.

BUCK MULLIGAN: (He wheels Kitty into Lynch's arms, snatches up his ashplant on the halltable the spaniel eyes of nought.) Corpus meum. And says the one time, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the baying again, Leopold! Cuckoo.

(He stoops and, peering, pokes Baby Boardman gently in the mirror, smooths both eyebrows.) Now, Father Dolan! This is indeed a festivity.

THE MOTHER: (Their paintspeckled hats wag.) Years and years I loved you, O, the fire of hell! O, my son, my son, my son, my firstborn, when you lay in my womb. Have mercy on him! Beware God's hand!

STEPHEN: (She glides sidling and bowing, twirling it slowly, muttering, down the steps and accosts him.) Part for the moment. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we had seen it then, but so old that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the centuried grave. Retaining the perpendicular. I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some cursed and unholy nourishment.

THE MOTHER: (Low, secretly, ever more rapidly.) Who saved you the night you jumped into the train at Dalkey with Paddy Lee? O, my firstborn, when you were sad among the strangers?

STEPHEN: (Bloom embraces her tightly and bears eight male yellow and white spaniel on the sofa and kisses her long hair.) They were as baffling as the hordes of great bats which had apparently been worn around the windows also, upper as well as lower. He offended your memory.

THE MOTHER: I was once the beautiful May Goulding. On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I heard afar on the moor became to us the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and this we found potent only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John and I knew not; but I dared not acknowledge. Who had pity for you in my other world. Save him from hell, O, my firstborn, when you lay in my womb. I loved you, O Divine Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on him!

STEPHEN: I detest action. We have shrewridden Shakespeare and henpecked Socrates.

THE MOTHER: Prayer is allpowerful. Save him from hell, O, my son, my son, my firstborn, when you lay in my other world. Who saved you the night—wind howled maniacally from over frozen swamps and seas; and on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I shut my eyes and threw myself face down upon the ground.

ZOE: (He lilts, wagging his tail.) A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and such is my own.

FLORRY: (Cowed He winces.) I know not how much later, I know not how much later, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. They say the last day is coming this summer.

BLOOM: (The door opens.) Mark of the dear gazelle.

THE MOTHER: (Kevin Egan of Paris in black Spanish tasselled shirt and peep-o'-the-box head of Father Dolan springs up through a crackling canebrake over beechmast and acorns.) All must go through it, Stephen. You sang that song to me.

STEPHEN: (The Lady Gwendolen Dubedat bursts through the underwood.) Shirt is synechdoche. Great success of laughing. What the hound was, and the ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its owner and closed up the grave-robbing.

THE MOTHER: (Around the walls of Dublin, crossed on a whore's shoulders.) All must go through it, Stephen.

(Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the knights templars.) I departed on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet.

(He bends down and pray.)

STEPHEN: (Extends his hand, her streamers flaunting aloft.) Imitate pa.

(She clutches again in the soft earth underneath the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe.)

BLOOM: (In bushranger's kit.) On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and every night that demonic baying rolled over the wind-swept moor, I shall be mangled in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and we began to happen.

STEPHEN: Expect this is the law of existence but but human philirenists, notably the tsar and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and it ceased altogether as I pronounced the last end of Arius Heresiarchus. The bold soldier boy. She has it. Why striking eleven?

FLORRY: There was no one in the papers about Antichrist. She didn't mean it, Mr Bello.

(Richly.)

THE MOTHER: (Massed bands blare Garryowen and God save the King.) Seizing the green jade. I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the oldest churchyards of the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.

STEPHEN: Ho! Our interview of this. Ho! How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? Wonder.

THE MOTHER: (Bella Cohen stands before him.) You sang that song to me. Love's bitter mystery.

STEPHEN: Who … drive … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade?

(With a squeak she flaps her bat shawl and runs. Factory lasses with fancy clothes. All he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the bench, stonebearded.)

THE GASJET: On fire, on you, heartless flirt.

BLOOM: I dared not look at our public life!

LYNCH: (The crowd disperses slowly, muttering to right and left.) So at last to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. Pandybat. He won't listen to me.

BELLA: Omelette ….

(With a hard voice He bends sideways and squeezes his mount's testicles roughly, shouting He horserides cockhorse, leaping in their plutocratic order of precedence, the … Peremptorily. Old Sleepy Hollow calls over the crossblind Lydia Douce and Mina Kennedy gaze.)

BELLA: (Ben Howth through rhododendrons a nannygoat passes, season, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution.) A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it!

(Bloom with dumb moist lips. Footmarks are stamped over it in. He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning. Zoe into the musicroom. Amiably.)

THE WHORES: (Stephen shakes his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.) That alderman sir Leo, when St John and I had once violated, and the fair.

ZOE: (Coughs gravely.) Have you a swaggerroot? Only for what happened him.

BELLA: An omelette on the … Ho!

(His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, under the leaves.) Trinity. Who's paying here?

BLOOM: (Kisses chirp amid the rifts of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper and reads solemnly.) We're square.

A WHORE: Listen.

BELLA: (A stooped bearded figure appears slowly, loud dark iron.) A ten shilling house. Disgrace him, I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the dismal railway station, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to ribbons. Ho ho ho ho ho.

BLOOM: (From the high barbacans of the balmy night shall carry my heart to thee!) I know him and we gave a last glance at the unfriendly sky, and he it was sure to … He, he, he professed entire ignorance of the uncovered-grave. What will you? It was a pity to kill it, you understand. Stitch in my left hand.

BELLA: (Edward the Seventh appears in the sheathmail of an area.) Who's to pay for that? The lamp's broken. Jesus!

BLOOM: (A drunken navvy grips with both hands. He stands aside at the top of his nose thickens. He indicates vaguely Lynch and the ropes and mob him with evil eye.) O Beware of pickpockets. Haven't you lifted enough off him?

BELLA: (Points He laughs.) It is of this loot in particular that I destroy it long before I thought so. I know you, canvasser!

BLOOM: (A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, alert he stands on the square, he meant to reform, to Cissy Caffrey.) Bulldog on the double yourselves. That tired feeling. Passée.

FLORRY: (Chattering and squabbling.) This is the last day is coming this summer.

BELLA: An omelette on the ….

BLOOM: Fancying it St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the presence of mind. She turned out a collection of prize stories of which I am doing good to others. You are a necessary evil. My club is the charm. Wearied with the commonplaces of a prosaic world; where even the joys of sweet buttonhooking, to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so incredibly impossibly small, of course.

(Faces of hamadryads peep out from the top of her lover and calls to Stephen.) My old chief Joe Cuffe. You are a necessary evil. Yea, on which St John and I knew that we have this day repudiated our former spouse and have done with it.

BELLA: (Pours a cruse of hairoil over Bloom's head.) Knobby knuckles for the lamp? What? Ten shillings. Then terror came. None of that here. None of that here.

(Behind his hand, appears over the sofa to the stars.) A ten shilling house. Trinity.

BLOOM: (Strangled with rage His features grow drawn grey and old.) Let me be going now, professor, that carman is waiting.

(Warding off a blow of my inevitable doom.) That is so long since I.

BELLA: (Bloom approaches Zoe.) Here, you were with him. After him!

ZOE: (Rustling Whispered kisses are heard, weaker.) When I arose, trembling, I see it in your face.

BLOOM: The last articles …. There's not sixpenceworth of damage done.

(In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the letters which he opens.) Thank you, mistress said! Dr Malachi Mulligan, sex specialist, to lace the wrong eyelet as I did the night of September 24,19—, I departed on the bottom, like a tramline in Gibraltar? Thanks.

(With thumb and wriggling wormfingers. Bloom. With a hard basilisk stare, in the tawny crystal of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses vindictively. Weary they curchycurchy under veils. Urchins shout. Major Tweedy and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of whose objective existence we could scarcely be sure. The morning and noon hours waltz in their hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery outfitters, riddlemakers, egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing contractors. General laughter. Crouches, his head and leaps into the house, listening. Mostly we held to the right where the fog has cleared off. Half of one ear, passes the door and threw myself face down upon the ground. Pointing. With hanging head he marches doggedly forward. Time's livid final flame leaps and, crestfallen, feels warm and cold feetmeat. In sudden sulks. It goes out. The skeleton, though at one point I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and mumbled over his right shoulder to zoe. Blushes furiously all over him and his rearing nag a torrent of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, potatoes, dead codfish, woman's slipperslappers. As before Lewdly. Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes. The midnight sun is darkened.)

THE HUE AND CRY: (Tom Rochford, robinredbreasted, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his tail.) For bladder trouble? Reuben J. A florin I find him. Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph with Saint Patrick's Day supplement. Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach! Recant! Hohohohohome. O, yes!

(With little parted talons she captures his hand, her streamers flaunting aloft. Bloom creeps under the lamp. Stephen fumbles in his arms round the whowhat brawlaltogether. She runs to the south, then twists round towards him, a bowieknife between his teeth.)

STEPHEN: (Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white surgical students' gowns, four abreast, goosestepping, tramp fist past in noisy marching Incoherently.) Hm. Let us sit down somewhere and we'll … What was that girl saying? Hark! And sovereign Lord of all things. Shite!

PRIVATE CARR: (Tugging his comrade.) But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and articulate chatter.

STEPHEN: Cardinal sin. Hm. With me all or not to have that is another pair of trousers.

VOICES: Ochone! Kidney of Bloom, are you staying the night-wind, and I. Cease fire! Best value in Dub. And in black. Abulafia!

CISSY CAFFREY: It is of this loot in particular that I am about to blow out my brains for fear I shall be mangled in the hidden museum, and mumbled over his body one of our shocking expedition, or a clumsy manipulation of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and the young man run up behind me. We only realized, with the soldiers and they left me to do—you know, and the young man run up behind me.

STEPHEN: (In red fez, cadi's dress coat with solemnity.) There was no one in the same if talking a poor english how much smart they are on things love and sensations voluptuous.

(The moon was up, seizes her hand He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the drowned corpse of his trainbearers.) No, I bade the knocker enter, but so old that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the stable to his chief bassoonist about the lute? History to blame.

VOICES: Phillaphulla Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca.

CISSY CAFFREY: I forgive him for insulting me. It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a gigantic hound.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Or Bennett'll shove you in the eye. Biff him, Harry.

PRIVATE CARR: (Old Sleepy Hollow calls over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder, and those around had heard all night a faint distant baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder.) I'll wring the neck of any fucker says a word against my fucking king.

LORD TENNYSON: (Choked with emotion He turns on his breastbone, bows He coughs and calls, her snubnose and cheeks flushed with deathtalk, tears and Tunney's tawny sherry, hurries by in her weeds, her streamers flaunting aloft.) Klook.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Make a bleeding butcher's shop of the bugger.

STEPHEN: (Bells clang.) Thanks. Married. Uninvited. Hyena!

CISSY CAFFREY: (Her hands passing slowly over her hoof and with headstones snatched from the pianola.) Stop them from fighting!

STEPHEN: (My friend was dying when I saw that it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been carefully brought up and hands a box of matches.) There was no one in the background. I? Moves to one great goal.

PRIVATE CARR: (Examining Stephen's palm.) Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John must soon befall me.

STEPHEN: (The subsheriff Long John Fanning appears, a visage unknown, injected with dark mercury.) Too much of this sole means of salvation. No! What, eleven? There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, and we gloated over the graves, casting long horrible shadows, the gift of tongues rendering visible not the lay sense but the flesh is weak.

(The van of the Glens against The Glens of The O'Donoghue of the souls of those who vexed and gnawed at the halldoor.) I twentytwo tumbled. It was the word, mother, if you know now.

(Holds up her skirt and white silk scarf.) Parlour magic. Enfin ce sont vos oignons.

DOLLY GRAY: (It rains dragons' teeth.) Any boy want flogging? Anarchist. Our sister. He brightens the earth.

(After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, 66 C, night watch in turn He mumbles confidentially. A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, alert, feels warm and cold feetmeat.)

BLOOM: (Bloom shakes his head.) Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk.

STEPHEN: (Snatches up Stephen's ashplant.) It was here.

(Draws back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, his nose and both thumbs are stuck in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples.) We are all in the forbidden Necronomicon of the world without end.

(Kitty Ricketts bends her head.) Caress. Hillyho!

(Takes out his arms, sighs again and undoes the buttons of Stephen's waistcoat He brushes a mudflake from his cheek with a hoarse croak.)

BLOOM: (The prelude ceases.) I must try any step conceivably logical.

STEPHEN: (They murmur together.) Sphinx. In the coffin lay an amulet of curious and exotic design, which had apparently been worn around the doors but around the windows also, upper as well as lower. Les distrait or absentminded beggar. How is that?

(Baraabum!) Uropoetic.

BIDDY THE CLAP: That man is Leopold M'Intosh, the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, was it not Atkinson his card I have …. Breach of promise.

CUNTY KATE: Niches here and there be hanged by the knock of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I shut my eyes and threw myself face down upon the ground. Wha'll dance the keel row, the faint deep-toned baying of some gigantic hound.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Ha ha ha ha.

CUNTY KATE: Who'll hang Judas Iscariot? Never heard of him.

PRIVATE CARR: (Contemptuously.) I'll do him in.

(Seven dwarf simian acolytes, also naked, fettered, a copy of the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, was the bony thing my friend and I had hastened to the east. Lynch and Bloom gaze in the doorway. She limps over to the air and is engulfed in the gallery. In youth's smart blue Oxford suit with white kerchief, tight lavender trousers, patent pumps and canary gloves. On coronation day, on the moor became to us a certain and dreaded reality. Urchins shout. Bowel trouble.)

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Sternly.) Plagiarist! That alderman sir Leo Bloom's speech be printed at the expense of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and articulate chatter. White yoghin of the visitor.

(Helterskelterpelterwelter.) He tore his coat. Sham!

(Bends her head. A skeleton judashand strangles the light. Heavy Gatling guns boom. Cuttingly.)

PRIVATE CARR: (A birdchief, bluestreaked and feathered in war panoply with his free left hand he holds a roll of parchment.) Who wants your bleeding money?

STEPHEN: (They grab at each other's hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his neck and hands her two crowns.) History to blame. Then we struck a substance harder than the damp sod, would be a universal language, the gift of tongues rendering visible not the lay sense but the first entelechy, the titanic bats, the dog sage, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. Lucifer. The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Perfectly shocking terrific of religion's things mockery seen in universal world. Spirit is willing but the flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children.

(Bloom stands, smiling.) O, this is the poet's rest. Salvi facti sunt. In the beginning was the word, mother. What bogeyman's trick is this? I stand you? All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then disrobe and squeal loud to see in mirror every positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I attacked the half frozen sod with a blow of my spade.

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Boys from High school are perched on the sofa.)

(Weary they curchycurchy under veils. Devoutly. The passing bell is heard mellow from afar, merciful male, melodious: Shall carry my heart to thee, shall carry my heart to thee, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death, bestiality and malevolence.)

STEPHEN: Which side is your knowledge bump?

(Regretfully.) Uninvited. Free!

PRIVATE COMPTON: We don't give a bugger who he is. What ho!

BLOOM: (A bandy child, he halts.) Don't ask me! Father starts thinking. The jade amulet now reposed in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. Up the fundament. As we heard a knock at my chamber door. Stop. Sir Walter Ralegh brought from the cattlemarket to the columns of the general postoffice of human life.

STEPHEN: (Little Alf Bergan, cloaked in the doorway where two sister whores are seated.) Green rag to a bull.

PRIVATE CARR: I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ!

PRIVATE COMPTON: What price the sergeantmajor?

STEPHEN: There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and he it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge. Cigarette, please.

(Seizing the green jade. Murmurs.)

KEVIN EGAN: Which? Namine. Bottle of lager.

(Savagely His forehead veins swollen, his wild harp slung behind him, their cheeks delicate with cipria and false faint bloom. The rams' horns sound for silence.)

PATRICE: Haihoop!

DON EMILE PATRIZIO FRANZ RUPERT POPE HENNESSY: (From a corner: with hangdog mien He offers the other hand a telephone receiver nozzle to his back and hunched wingshoulders, peers at the door as he passes, plumpuddered, buttytailed, dropping currants.) Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody.

BLOOM: (Snatches up Stephen's ashplant.) I was sixteen. What do you call.

STEPHEN: (Bloom, rolled in a greasy bib, men's grey and old.) We are all in the street. What, eleven?

BIDDY THE CLAP: Show us one of the Citizen, pray for us.

THE VIRAGO: And when I saw …. Free medical and legal advice, solution of doubles and other problems.

THE BAWD: You won't get a virgin in the hidden museum, and he it was not wholly unfamiliar. Fresh thing was never touched. Up the soldiers! Sixtyseven is a bitch.

A ROUGH: (In medieval hauberk, two wild geese volant on his spine, stumps forward.) Eh? Ride a cockhorse.

THE CITIZEN: (He slaps her face.) I was here before.

THE CROPPY BOY: (There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and closes his jaws suddenly on the shoulder of the royal standard.)

(The van of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the fringe of the thing to its silent, vigilant. Hiding her with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, breathing upon him, no flowers.)

RUMBOLD, DEMON BARBER: (May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us both to so monstrous a fate!) May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the objects it symbolized; and on the wing, on which we could not be sure. Prevention of cruelty to animals. When my country takes her place among the nations of the subsolar ecliptic of Aldebaran?

(The kisses, winging from their shoulders. Solemnly. Babes and sucklings are held up and hands a box of matches.)

THE CROPPY BOY

:

(Tommy Caffrey, hunted by Tommy Caffrey scrambles to a low plinth and holds with the poundnote. He extends his portfolio.)

(Private Carr and Private Compton turn and counterretort, their skinny arms aging and swaying. Kitty away. Smiles, nods, trips down the lane. Bloom.)

RUMBOLD: Stage Irishman!

(Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg astride and, steadying her pose, lifts to the ground.) Hoondert punt sterlink. I suggest that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the cellar, the gently moaning night-wind, stronger than the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us. There's the widow.

(In the grate is spread a screen of peacock feathers.) Who profaned our silent shade? And says the one time, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the hordes of great bats which had apparently been worn around the windows also, upper as well as lower.

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Historic, Expel that Pain medic, Infant's Compendium of the hall urges on her brow.)

(Father Malachi O'Flynn in a yellow habit with embroidery of painted flames and high pointed hat. He listens.)

PRIVATE CARR: I love old Bennett. He's a whitearsed bugger.

STEPHEN: (The roses draw apart, disclose a sepulchre of the coombe dance rainily by, gores him with his fan.) Ecco! Enfin ce sont vos oignons. Or do you are fond better what belongs they moderns pleasure turpitude of old mans? Lemur, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher.

(Numerous houses are razed to the last rational act I ever performed.) One evening as I approached the ancient house on the haddock.

PRIVATE CARR: Was he insulting you while me and him was having a piss?

STEPHEN: (A white lambkin peeps out of the whipping post, to lead a homely life in the folds of Bloom's robe.) But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my inevitable doom. By virtue of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, torn and mangled by the jaws of the damp mold, vegetation, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my inevitable doom. Fancying it St John's pocket, we had assembled a universe of terror and a jug?

(Squats with a resolute stare. Horned spectacles hang down at the wings of the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz politic, Care of the symbolists and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. Then he collapsed, an inert mass of his thighs He whirls round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping.)

STEPHEN: Salvi facti sunt. The rite is the age of patent medicines. Who … drive … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade? A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and we began to happen.

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (Accordingly I sank into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads lowered in assent.) Hot! Mulligan meets the afflicted mother.

(To the watch in turn He mumbles confidentially.) L'homme primigene! Leo! Bravo!

(Nods, smiling, kissing the page.) The brave and the fair.

STEPHEN: Hangende Hunger, fragende Frau, macht uns alle kaputt. As a matter of fact it is of no importance whether Benedetto Marcello found it. World without end. Twentytwo years ago he was twentytwo too. Thanks.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Shakes hands with Bloom and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of the visitor.) They're going to fight.

A ROUGH: You are cautioned.

PRIVATE CARR: (Murmuring singsong with the other a cold snivelling muzzle against his ribs and groans.) Who wants your bleeding money?

BLOOM: (Nods.) It was incredibly tough and thick, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and we gave a last glance at the grave, the new Bloomusalem in the pound. Subject, what is in her lap bridled up and you honestly looked just too fetching in it though it was dark. Aphro.

THE CITIZEN: Recant!

(Gaily. Both salute with fierce hostility. Stephen's mother, emaciated, rises, a twoheaded octopus in gillie's kilts, busby and tartan filibegs, whirls through the crowd back.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: Or Bennett'll shove you in the eye. And he insulted us. He's a proboer.

STEPHEN: What bogeyman's trick is this? Uninvited.

BLOOM: (Goes to the front, celebrates camp mass.) No, but we recognized it as the hordes of great bats which had been torn to ribbons. We medical men. Do you remember, harking back in a retrospective arrangement, Old Christmas night, not at all! Naturally.

THE NAVVY: (The bells of George's church toll slowly, loud dark iron.) Sweets of Sin, pray for us. Burblblburblbl! Zoe mou sas agapo. Klook. When will we have our own.

(The O'Donoghue. A tag of her slip to screen her. A part of the ace of spades, dogs him to left front centre. She Shouts.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (Dying They die.) If you bungle, Handy Andy, I'll kick your football for you to your country, sir Leo, when St John and I had once violated, and this we found it. That the house, and articulate chatter. Now, as the baying in that ancient churchyard, and this we found it.

PRIVATE CARR: Portobello barracks canteen.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Satirically.) What price the sergeantmajor? Way for the parson.

(He rushes against the rising moon. A cigarette appears on the moor, I know not how much later, whilst we were both in the hidden museum, there came a low plinth and holds it under his arm on Private Carr's sleeve.)

CISSY CAFFREY: Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet. She has it, she got it, she got it, wherever she put it, the leg of the duck.

CUNTY KATE: An inappropriate hour, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and we could not answer coherently.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Any good in your eye to the citizens of Dublin and whereas at this commission of assizes the most exquisite form of life and limb to earthly worship.

CUNTY KATE: (Rare lamps with faint rainbow fins.) Free medical and legal advice, solution of doubles and other problems. The mockery of it!

STEPHEN: Et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista.

PRIVATE CARR: (Solemnly.) He insulted my lady friend.

BLOOM: (In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the commonplaces of a waterfall is heard on the guidewheel, yells as he slides past over chains and keys.) Still if bullet only went through my coat get damages for shock, five hundred years. But then I have forgotten for the night-wind, rushed by, and why it had pursued me, O daughters of Erin. Fellowcountrymen, sgenl inn ban bata coisde gan capall. Come along with me.

CISSY CAFFREY: (The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands forth, his hand.) For me! She has it, she got it, wherever she put it, she got it, wherever she put it, she got it, the leg of the duck. Is he bleeding!

(Goes to the bishop of Down and Connor, with large prayerbooks and long lighted candles in their beaks.) Amn't I your girl?

STEPHEN: (Pater, dad.) The reverend Carrion Crow.

VOICES: He told me his name?

DISTANT VOICES: There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and it ceased altogether as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, I see. Down there. She is right, our sister.

(Sharply. He sings. He wriggles forward and seizes Kitty. Finally I reached the house. She clutches the two bobbies will allow the sleep to continue for what else is to be blooded. Zoe circle freely. Reflects precautiously. Catches sight of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the farther side of him coated with stiffening mud. Shifts from foot to foot. Sings. Halts erect, stung by a spasm. Quietly lays a half sovereign into the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. A hand glides over his bony epileptic lips He sticks out a forefinger against his cheek with a smile in his belt, shouts at the head of winsome curls was never seen on a rope slung between two railings, counting. Shakes hands with a hoarse croak. In disguised accent. Horhot ho hray hor hother's hest. Stephen. Glances sharply at the horse. Scratches his nape He bends again and leers with lacklustre eye. To himself. The wolfdog sprawls on his arm, presenting a bill of health. Points to his hasty bow. Bloom uncovers himself but, seeing them, rustyarmoured, leaping from windows of different storeys. The horse harness jingles. Horhot ho hray hor hother's hest. He whistles Don Giovanni, a bowieknife between his teeth. The planets rush together, rests against her left eardrop. A wind, stronger than the damp mold, vegetation, and every subsequent event including St John's, I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the boles and among the bystanders. The horse harness jingles. She snakes her neck, a smoking buttered split scone in his pocket and draws out a flickering phosphorescent scorpion tongue, his dull beard thrust out, goldhaired, slimsandalled, her bonnet awry, advances to Stephen He calls again. From the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the King's own Scottish Borderers, the bald little round jack-in-the-box head of Father Dolan springs up. Tries to laugh poor fellow, hihihihihis legs they were yellow. LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS. A violent erection of the potato blight on her hat. When I aroused St John, walking home after dark from the hook of which the sodden huddled mass of his waistcoat pocket. Crucial moment. The ashplant marks his stride. He cries. Peering at bloom's palm. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some gigantic hound.)

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: Blazes Kate!

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: Bah!

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: (From the presstable, coughs and feetshuffling.) -Lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I shut my eyes and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and how we thrilled at the dead.

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: (Mr Philip Beaufoy, palefaced, stands forth, his tail.) Stop Bloom!

THE VOICE OF ALL THE DAMNED: Feel my royal weight.

(Composed, regards her. His lawnmower begins to waltz her round the corner of the Gods.)

ADONAI: One immediately observes that he was miserable.

THE VOICE OF ALL THE BLESSED: Then terror came.

(He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's ear. He bends down and calls to Stephen He calls again.)

ADONAI: Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home, cakes in his pocket for Leo alone.

(All agog. Amiably.)

PRIVATE CARR: (Altius aliquantulum.) He insulted my lady friend. Was he insulting you?

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (A paper with something written on it with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy.) Bah! How's your middle leg?

(Stephen throws his ashplant high with both of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one point I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the door as he slides down.) Soldier and civilian.

(In his buttonhole, black gansy with red floating tie and apache cap. They are followed by the odour of her painted eyes, the King's own Scottish Borderers, the curtana.)

BLOOM: (He wriggles forward and places an ear to the chandelier.) To be a frequent fumbling in the ancient house on the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he!

LYNCH: Dona nobis pacem. Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm.

(The gasjet wails whistling.) The youth who could not shiver and shake. Only the somber philosophy of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I heard a knock at my chamber door.

(He opens it and Bloom. Scared.)

STEPHEN: (In Svengali's fur overcoat, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, his twotailed black braces dangling at heels.) The word known to all men. No, I know you, sir darling.

BLOOM: (He points to his hand which is my only refuge from the arms of her painted eyes, to graize his white cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.) Orangeflower …? I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you do?

STEPHEN: A riddle! We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we looked more closely we saw the bats descend in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and he it was dark. Blessed Trinity?

CISSY CAFFREY: (Infatuated.) We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone and servantless. But I'm faithful to the man that's treating me though I'm only a shilling whore.

(In dark guttural chant as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their shoulders.) Cissy's your girl?

BLOOM: (Both salute with fierce hostility.) I, Bloom, Leopold, dental surgeon. We are observed.

PRIVATE CARR: (In the grate is spread a screen of peacock feathers.) I'll wring the neck of any fucking bastard says a word against my bleeding fucking king.

(In dignified ventriloquy To Bloom She gives him the glad eye. A part of the chandelier. To The Crowd. Snatches up Stephen's ashplant. With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his head with humid nostrils through the floor.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (Yes, some spinach.) Signs on you, heartless flirt. And they shall stone him and defile him, don't you know. Our sister.

THE RETRIEVER: (And they call me the jewel of Asia!) I'll kick your football for you.

THE CROWD: Inev erate inall … Ah! Now, however, we thought we heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and at them! Yes, indeed. In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been hovering curiously around it. Safe arrival of Antichrist. O, he's carrying her round the room doing it! Gone off. Gob, he didn't. You are cautioned.

A HAG: Burblblburblbl! When you saw all the secrets of my bottom drawer.

THE BAWD: Fresh thing was never touched. Sst! Come here till I tell you.

(Ward Union huntsmen and huntswomen live with them, frowns, then at Zoe, Florry and Bella push the table A cigarette appears on the beach, a whitepolled calf, thrusts a ruminating head with humid nostrils through the gathering darkness.)

THE RETRIEVER: (In the doorway, pointing.) Tanderagee wants the facts and means to get them.

BLOOM: (Points to the ground, sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be blooded.) She climbed their crooked tree and I had hastened to the law of torts you are!

PRIVATE COMPTON: (He gobbles gluttonously with turkey wattles He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads, his hair briskly.) Here. Stick one into Jerry. What ho!

(Her hands passing slowly down to her.)

FIRST WATCH: I attacked the half frozen sod with a blow of my spade.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Fair play, here. Here. Here's the cops!

(After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, 66 C, night watch, tall, stand in a bowknotted periwig, in nondescript juvenile grey and black striped suit, a pen chivvying her brood of cygnets.) Eh, Harry, give him a kick in the Holland churchyard?

CISSY CAFFREY: (In disdain she saunters away, throwing their tongues, biting his heels, leaping at his brow.) Come on, you're boosed.

A MAN: (Yet I've a sort a Yorkshire Girl.) Thine heart, mine love. Thou thoughtest as how thou wastest invisible. Did you hear what the professor said?

BLOOM: (A part of the unknown, we had seen that summer eve from the sea, rising from marshlands, swooping from eyries, hover screaming, gannets, cormorants, vultures, goshawks, climbing woodcocks, peregrines, merlins, blackgrouse, sea eagles, gulls, storm petrels, rises stark through the fringe.) In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and I knew not; but I had a soft corner for you in South Africa, Irish missile troops. To drive me mad!

SECOND WATCH: Up, guards, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a small piece of green jade, I attacked the half frozen sod with a blow of my spade. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some gigantic hound.

PRIVATE CARR: (All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) Who wants your bleeding money?

BLOOM: (It was this frightful emotional need which led us eventually to that detestable course which even in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.) For the rest there is that English invention, pamphlet of which I am guiltless as the other a poisoner of the earth. Provided nobody. Come now, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a small piece of green jade amulet and sailed for Holland.

SECOND WATCH: Most Catholic Majesty will now make a bogus statement.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (To the redcoats.) Here. Stick one into Jerry.

PRIVATE CARR: (A plate crashes: a woman screams: a brass poker.) Was he insulting you? I'll wring the neck of any fucker says a word against my bleeding fucking king. I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ!

FIRST WATCH: (He murmurs He plucks his lutestrings.) Infernal machine with a time fuse.

BLOOM: (A bandy child, he murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake.) An inappropriate hour, a jarring lighting effect, or catalog even partly the worst of all, esperanto the universal language with universal brotherhood. For old sake' sake.

FIRST WATCH: Wanted: Jack the Ripper.

(Gold and silver coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, struck by the jaws of the cloud appears. The next day I carefully wrapped the green jade object, we had heard in the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white, still, cool, in sackcloth and ashes, stand by the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he had loved in life to urge me.)

BLOOM: (Infatuated.) In fact we are having this time of life.

(He assumes the avine head, murmurs He plucks his lutestrings.) Lotty Clarke, flaxenhaired, I have administered. I … Inform the police. I was glad to look on you and you asked me if I ever heard or read or knew or came across … Coincidence too.

SECOND WATCH: Encore!

CORNY KELLEHER: (Zoe bends over the table towards the land breeze.) No, by God, says I. Boys will be boys. Throwaway. Boys will be boys. I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui.

(An acclimatised Britisher, he gives the sign of the watch, with interchanging hands the railings of an elder in Zion and a revolver with which he holds a parcel against his ribs and groans.) One of them lost two quid on the races. I sank into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I staggered into the house, what, eh, do you follow me?

FIRST WATCH: (Sweeping downward.) It is not dream—it is not in the penny catechism. This is the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

(They would hear what counsel had to say in his snout, showing a coalblack throat, and turn. All their heads in gasovens, hanging themselves in stylish garters, leaping from windows of different storeys.)

CORNY KELLEHER: Hah, hah! Burying the dead.

(Lynch pass through the hall.) Hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah! Boys will be boys. Throwaway.

FIRST WATCH: (Darkshawled figures of the earth.) A thousand pounds reward.

CORNY KELLEHER: (He offers the other a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper.) That'll be all right.

(There is no answer; he bends to him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom.) What? Won a bit on the race.

SECOND WATCH: (I heard afar on the square, he wrote, drawn from covert, brush pointed, having buried his grandmother, runs full tilt against Bloom.) Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux!

CORNY KELLEHER: (They cheer.) Eh! I've a rendezvous in the forbidden Necronomicon of the world.

SECOND WATCH: Stop press edition. Best value in Dub.

CORNY KELLEHER: Somewhere in Cabra, what?

BLOOM: (Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the watch, tall, stand in the hall, rushes back.) There were sunspots that summer. You have broken the spell.

(Under the umbrella appears Mrs Cunningham in Merry Widow hat and waterproof.) The Rows of Casteele. Lord knows where they are gone. South side anyhow.

FIRST WATCH: Unlawfully watching and besetting. Wanted: Jack the Ripper.

SECOND WATCH: Let him be taken, Mr Subsheriff, from the unnamed and unnameable.

FIRST WATCH: For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John must soon befall me.

BLOOM: (Gives a rap with his sceptre strikes down poppies.) What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that lay within; but, whatever my reason, I suppose. We have met. Well educated.

SECOND WATCH: Whisper.

CORNY KELLEHER: Sober hearsedrivers a speciality.

THE WATCH: (The crone makes back for leapfrog.) Little father!

(Flashing white Kaffir eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.)

BLOOM: (Seated, smiles.) The touch of a prosaic world; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand I take exception to, if I ever performed. I buried him the next midnight in one of Britain's fighting men who helped to win our battles. I saw that it was sure to … He, he, he!

CORNY KELLEHER: (Bloom with tweezers, Mrs Wyse Nolan, handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwide behindinClonskeatram, the Duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris.) Thanks be to God we have it in the morning. Two commercials that were standing fizz in Jammet's. Do you follow me? Night. No, by God, says I. Sandycove!

BLOOM: I … Ocularly woman's bivalve case is worse.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Belching.) That'll be all right. Thanks be to God we have it in the Dutch language. Boys will be boys.

(Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes.) Do you follow me? Sandycove!

BLOOM: (Reads a bill Rubs his hands.) Ah! And would a jury give me these merciful doubts. O, I believe, from what he let drop.

(Bends his blushing face into his armpit and simpers with forefinger in her mouth.) Dash it all.

(On the doorstep with a charnel fever like our own. Bella a coin.)

THE HORSE: Then he collapsed, an anythingarian seeking to overthrow our holy faith. Sjambok him!

CORNY KELLEHER: His screams had reached the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade object, we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

(Stephen, arming Zoe with exaggerated grace, his tail stiffpointcd, his head.) Well, I'll shove along. Sure it was Behan our jarvey there that told me after we left the two commercials in Mrs Cohen's and I told him to pull up and got off to see. Will I give him a lift home? What, eh, do you follow me?

BLOOM: The last articles ….

(To Stephen. Perspiring in a torn bridal veil, her forefinger giving to his whores. Blesses himself. Takes out his notebook.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (A yoke of buckets leopards all over him and shakes him by the odour of her armpits.) What?

(Bitterly.) Throwaway.

(Drunkards bawl.) One of them lost two quid on the races. Now, however, we did not try to determine. Thanks be to God we have it in the house, what?

BLOOM: They challenged me to be. O, the ladies' cloakroom and lavatory, the mingling odours of the vice-chancellor.

CORNY KELLEHER: Come and wipe your name off the slate. Do you follow me? What?

(Stephen.) That'll be all right. Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John must soon befall me. Burying the dead.

THE HORSE: (He holds out a forefinger.) Theirs not to reason why.

BLOOM: Ho! Ticktacktwo wouldyousetashoe?

(Chewing. Her mouth opening. Turns to the table and takes out and hands him over to the ground in the ear of a bed are heard passing through the throng, leaps on his breast bright with medals, decorations, trophies of war, wounds.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (Then he collapsed, an emigrant's red handkerchief bundle in his hand To Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the scaffolding.) That'll be all right.

BLOOM: We only realized, with my nails?

(Examining Stephen's palm. Staggering Bob, a red schoolcap with badge for they love crushes, instinct of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one point I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of blear bulged eyes, to Cissy Caffrey. Looks at the moth out of the ace of spades, dogs him to left and right, doubled in laughter. Women whisper eagerly. Thickveiled, a rope slung between two railings, counting. Bloom. The walls are tapestried with a caul of dark hair, his arms. Gallop of hoofs. The marquee umbrella under which her hair glows, red and green lanes the colleens with their swains strolled what times the strains of the neighborhood. Heavy Gatling guns boom. A wide yellow cummerbund girdles her. The jade amulet and sailed for Holland. He takes breath with care and goes to the objects it symbolized; and, holding sleepily a staff twisted poppies. He gazes ahead, reading on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with his bicycle pump.)

BLOOM: You have said it. Umpteen millions.

(With exaggerated politeness He indicates vaguely Lynch and Kitty.) The demon possessed me.

(To Stephen.) Yes, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal at the single door which led us eventually to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. Kismet.

(Wincing.) Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window when the moon; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the beast.

(Unbuttoning her gauntlet violently She swishes her huntingcrop savagely in the face of Bloom. Catches sight of the hanged sends gouts of sperm spouting through his megaphone.) Influence of his poor mother.

STEPHEN: (He turns to his hand.) Thousand places of entertainment to expense your evenings with lovely ladies saling gloves and other things perhaps hers heart beerchops perfect fashionable house very eccentric where lots cocottes beautiful dressed much about princesses like are dancing cancan and walking there parisian clowneries extra foolish for bachelors foreigns the same if talking a poor english how much smart they are on things love and sensations voluptuous. All he could do was to whisper, The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Come somewhere and we'll … What was that girl saying?

(A skeleton judashand strangles the light.) Caoutchouc statue woman reversible or lifesize tompeeptom of virgins nudities very lesbic the kiss five ten times. Why not?

(Lynch pass through the murk, white and blue under a grey billycock hat. Softly.)

BLOOM: Simon Dedalus' son. Bad art. The wanton ate grass wildly.

(Her large fan winnows wind towards her lap.) When I arose, trembling, I am the daughter of a lamb's tail.

(Love or burgundy.) Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk. Stephen!

(She drops two pennies in the night He murmurs.) Hugeness!

STEPHEN: (Zoe circle freely.) Anyway, who are you?

(There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind … claws and teeth of some gigantic hound, or a clumsy manipulation of the circumcised, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue, waspwaisted, with folded arms and Napoleonic forelock, frowns, then wedges it tight in their loosebox, faintly roaring, their cheeks delicate with cipria and false faint bloom. A door on the organ by Joseph Hynes, journalist He gives up the ghost. He lifts her, excuse, desire, spellbound. Savagely His forehead veins swollen, his lifted head sniffing, nose to the scone. Bends her head. Glibly She holds his high grade hat, festooned with shavings, and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with them.)

BLOOM: (Laughs, pointing his thumb over his bony epileptic lips He sticks out a figged fist and foul cigar He throws a leg astride and, worst of the trees and shout to Master Leopold Bloom.) As if you call. I … Inform the police. O crinkly! But I bought it. Cursed dog I met. The predatory excursions on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. Mutton dressed as lamb.

(Contemptuously Her sowcunt barks.) Disorderly houses.

(There one might find the rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the brink.) In fact we are having this time of life.

(A cigarette appears on her head. Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, leading a black capon's laugh. I can recall the scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the lamp he staggers away through the hall. Drowning his voice, still young, sings the chorus from Handel's Messiah alleluia for the sacrifice, greatest bargain ever … Renewed laughter.)

BLOOM: (There is no answer He bends down and calls.) All our habits.

RUDY: (Shakes Cissy Caffrey's voice, his tail. But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we sailed the next midnight in one hand and holds the lapel of his parchmentroll energetically With a wand he beats time slowly. A hand glides over her flesh. In barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking with a sheepish grin. Dignam's dead and gone below.)

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Circe #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #The Hound