Swimsuit Vedah Bertram nudes (26 photos) Tits, butt
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Conventions for this chapter:
|.This background color indicates a different approach to the narrative: a world of magical realism (see pages 3-95)|
|.This background color indicates a different approach to the narrative: the World of Hallucination of Bloom (see pages 211-29)|
|.This background color indicatesrtif a different approach to the narrative: the World of Hallucination of Stephen Dedalus (see pages|
(The Mabbot street entrance of nighttown, before which stretches
an uncobbled tramsiding set with skeleton tracks, red and green
THE CALLWait, my love, and I'll be with you.
Round behind the stable.
(A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, his shapeless mouth dribbling,
(lifts a palsied left arm and gurgles) Ghahute!
Where's the great light?
(They release him. He jerks on. A pigmy woman swings on a rope
growling teeth, and snores again. On a step a gnome totting among
I gave it to Molly
(Private Carr and Private Compton, swaggersticks tight in their
Signs on you, hairy arse. More power the Cavan girl.
More luck to me. Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet. (she sings)
I gave it to Nelly
(Private Carr and Private Compton turn and counterretort, their
blond cropped polls. Stephen Dedalus and Lynch pass through the
crowd close to the redcoats.)
(jerks his finger) Way for the parson.
(turns and calls) What ho, parson!.
(her voice soaring higher)
She has it, she got it,
The leg of the duck.
(Stephen, flourishing the ashplant in his left hand, chants with joy
Vidi aquam egredientem de templo a latere dextro. Alleluia..
(The famished snaggletusks of an elderly bawd protrude from a
inside. Sst! .
(altius aliquantulum) Et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista..
(spits in their trail her jet of venom) Trinity medicals. Fallopian tube. All
(Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with Bertha Supple, draws her
squarepusher, the greaser off the railway, in his cometobed hat. Did you,
says I. That's not for you to say, says I. You never seen me in the mantrap
with a married highlander, says I. The likes of her! Stag that one is!
Stubborn as a mule! And her walking with two fellows the one time,
Kilbride, the enginedriver, and lancecorporal Oliphant. .
(triumphaliter) Salvi facti sunt.
(He flourishes his ashplant, shivering the lamp image, shattering
(looks behind) So that gesture, not music not odour, would be a universal
Pornosophical philotheology. Metaphysics in Mecklenburgh street!
allwisest Stagyrite was bitted, bridled and mounted by a light of love.
Anyway, who wants two gestures to illustrate a loaf and a jug? This
Damn your yellow stick. Where are we going?
Lecherous lynx, to la belle dame sans merci, Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui
(Stephen thrusts the ashplant on him and slowly holds out his
Which is the jug of bread? It skills not. That or the customhouse. Illustrate
(They pass. .
Tommy Caffrey scrambles to a gaslamp and, clasping,
clasps to climb. The navvy lurches against the lamp. The twins
scuttle off in the dark. The navvy, swaying, presses a forefinger
against a wing of his nose and ejects from the farther nostril a long
liquid jet of snot. Shouldering the lamp he staggers away through
the crowd with his flaring cresset.
Snakes of river fog creep slowly. From drains, clefts, cesspools,
middens arise on all sides stagnant fumes. A glow leaps in the south
beyond the seaward reaches of the river. The navvy, staggering
forward, cleaves the crowd and lurches towards the tramsiding
On the farther side under the railway bridge Bloom appears, flushed,
Fish and taters. N. g. Ah!
(He disappears into Olhausen's, the porkbutcher's, under the
Stitch in my side. Why did I run?
(He takes breath with care and goes forward slowly towards the
What is that? A flasher? Searchlight.
(He stands at Cormack's corner, watching)
anyhow. Big blaze. Might be his house. Beggar's bush. We're safe. (he
hums cheerfully) London's burning, London's burning! On fire, on fire!
(he catches sight of the navvy lurching through the crowd at the farther
side of Talbot street) I'll miss him. Run. Quick. Better cross here.
(He darts to cross the road. Urchins shout.)
Mind out, mister!
(Two cyclists, with lighted paper lanterns aswing, swim by him,
(halts erect, stung by a spasm) Ow!
(He looks round, darts forward suddenly. Through rising fog a
Bang Bang Bla Bak Blud Bugg Bloo..
(The brake cracks violently. Bloom, raising a policeman's
whitegloved hand, blunders stifflegged out of the track. The
motorman, thrown forward, pugnosed, on the guidewheel, yells as
he slides past over chains and keys.)
Hey, shitbreeches, are you doing the hat trick?
(Bloom trickleaps to the curbstone and halts again. He brushes a
No thoroughfare. Close shave that but cured the stitch. Must take up
accident too. The Providential. (he feels his trouser pocket) Poor
mamma's panacea. Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a cog. Day the
wheel of the black Maria peeled off my shoe at Leonard's corner. Third
time is the charm. Shoe trick. Insolent driver. I ought to report him.
Tension makes them nervous. Might be the fellow balked me this morning
with that horsey woman. Same style of beauty. Quick of him all the same.
The stiff walk. True word spoken in jest. That awful cramp in Lad lane.
Something poisonous I ate. Emblem of luck. Why? Probably lost cattle.
Mark of the beast. (he closes his eyes an instant) Bit light in the head.
Monthly or effect of the other. Brainfogfag. That tired feeling. Too much
for me now. Ow! .
(A sinister figure leans on plaited legs against O'Beirne's wall, a
Buenas noches, senorita Blanca. Que calle es esta?
(impassive, raises a signal arm) Password. Sraid Mabbot.Haha. Merci. Esperanto. Slan leath. (he mutters) Gaelic league spy, sent
by that fireeater.
(He steps forward. A sackshouldered ragman bars his path. He
(He leaps right, sackragman right.)
(He swerves, sidles, stepaside, slips past and on.)
Keep to the right, right, right. If there is a signpost planted by the Touring
(Jacky Caffrey, hunted by Tommy Caffrey, runs full tilt against
(Shocked, on weak hams, he halts. Tommy and Jacky vanish
Beware of pickpockets. Old thieves' dodge. Collide. Then snatch your
(The retriever approaches sniffing, nose to the ground. .
caftan of an elder in Zion and a smokingcap with magenta tassels.
Horned spectacles hang down at the wings of the nose. Yellow
poison streaks are on the drawn face.)
Second halfcrown waste money today. I told you not go with drunken goy
(hides the crubeen and trotter behind his back and, crestfallen, feels warm
What you making down this place? Have you no soul? (with feeble vulture
grandson of Leopold? Are you not my dear son Leopold who left the house
of his father and left the god of his fathers Abraham and Jacob?
(with precaution) I suppose so, father. Mosenthal. All that's left of him.
(severely) One night they bring you home drunk as dog after spend your
(in youth's smart blue Oxford suit with white vestslips, narrowshouldered,
and double curb Albert with seal attached, one side of him coated with
stiffening mud) Harriers, father. Only that once.
Once! Mud head to foot. Cut your hand open. Lockjaw. They make you
(weakly) They challenged me to a sprint. It was muddy. I slipped.
(with contempt) Goim nachez! Nice spectacles for your poor mother!
(in pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow Twankey's crinoline and
(Bloom, mumbling, his eyes downcast, begins to bestow his parcels
Who? (he ducks and wards off a blow clumsily) At your service.
(He looks up. Beside her mirage of datepalms a handsome woman
Welly? Mrs Marion from this out, my dear man, when you speak to me.
(shifts from foot to foot) No, no. Not the least little bit.
(He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air, questions,
spellbound. A coin gleams on her forehead. On her feet are jewelled
toerings. Her ankles are linked by a slender fetterchain. Beside her a
camel, hooded with a turreting turban, waits. A silk ladder of
innumerable rungs climbs to his bobbing howdah. He ambles near
with disgruntled hindquarters. Fiercely she slaps his haunch, her
goldcurb wristbangles angriling, scolding him in Moorish.)
(The camel, lifting a foreleg, plucks from a tree a large mango fruit,
head and, grunting, with uplifted neck, fumbles to kneel. Bloom
stoops his back for leapfrog.)
I can give you ... I mean as your business menagerer .. Mrs Marion ..... if
So you notice some change? (her hands passing slowly over her trinketed
I was just going back for that lotion whitewax, orangeflower water. Shop
(He points to the south, then to the east. A cake of new clean lemon
We're a capital couple are Bloom and I.
(The freckled face of Sweny, the druggist, appears in the disc of the
Three and a penny, please.
Yes. For my wife. Mrs Marion. Special recipe.
(In disdain she saunters away, humming the duet from Don
Are you sure about that Voglio? I mean the pronunciati .....
(He follows, followed by the sniffing terrier.
The elderly bawd
Ten shillings a maidenhead. Fresh thing was never touched. Fifteen. There's
(She points. In the gap of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled,
Bridie Kelly stands.)
Hatch street. Any good in your mind?
(With a squeak she flaps her bat shawl and runs. A burly rough
(her wolfeyes shining) He's getting his pleasure. You won't get a virgin in
(Leering, Gerty MacDowell limps forward. She draws from behind,
With all my worldly goods I thee and thou. (she murmurs) You did that. I
l? When? You're dreaming. I never saw you.
Leave the gentleman alone, you cheat. Writing the gentleman false letters.
the bedpost, hussy like you.
(to Bloom) When you saw all the secrets of my bottom drawer. (she paws
(She glides away crookedly. Mrs Breen in man's frieze overcoat
wideopen, smiling in all her herbivorous buckteeth.)
(coughs gravely) Madam, when we last had this pleasure by letter dated
Mr Bloom! You down here in the haunts of sin! I caught you nicely!
(hurriedly) Not so loud my name. Whatever do you think of me? Don't
Rescue of fallen women. Magdalen asylum. I am the secretary .....
(holds up a finger) Now, don't tell a big fib! I know somebody won't like
(looks behind) She often said she'd like to visit. Slumming. The exotic, you
(Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white duck suits, scarlet
TOM AND SAM
There's someone in the house with Dina
There's someone in the house, I know,
There's someone in the house with Dina
Playing on the old banjo.
(They whisk black masks from raw babby faces: then, chuckling,
(with a sour tenderish smile) A little frivol, shall we, if you are so inclined?
(screams gaily) O, you ruck! You ought to see yourself!
For old sake' sake. I only meant a square party, a mixed marriage mingling
Glory Alice, you do look a holy show! Killing simply. (she puts out her
(seizes her wrist with his free hand) Josie Powell that was, prettiest deb in
You were the lion of the night with your seriocomic recitation and you
badge in his buttonhole, black bow and mother-of-pearl studs, a prismatic
champagne glass tilted in his hand) Ladies and gentlemen, I give you
Ireland, home and beauty.
The dear dead days beyond recall. Love's old sweet song.
(meaningfully dropping his voice) I confess I'm teapot with curiosity to
all over me! (she rubs sides with him) After the parlour mystery games and
the crackers from the tree we sat on the staircase ottoman. Under the
mistletoe. Two is company.
(wearing a purple Napoleon hat with an amber halfmoon, his fingers and
(in a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, a tinsel sylph's
When you made your present choice they said it was beauty and the beast. I
(Denis Breen, whitetallhatted, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-
thrust out, muttering to right and left. Little Alf Bergan, cloaked in
the pall of the ace of spades, dogs him to left and right, doubled in
(points jeering at the sandwichboards) U. p: up.
(to Bloom) High jinks below stairs. (she gives him the glad eye) Why
(her pulpy tongue between her lips, offers a pigeon kiss) Hnhn. The
(offhandedly) Kosher. A snack for supper. The home without potted meat
(Richie Goulding, three ladies' hats pinned on his head, appears
which a skull and crossbones are painted in white limewash. He
opens it and shows it full of polonies, kippered herrings, Findon
haddies and tightpacked pills.)
Best value in Dub.
(Bald Pat, bothered beetle, stands on the curbstone, folding his
(advances with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy) Steak and kidney. Bottle
Goodgod. Inev erate inall ....
(With hanging head he marches doggedly forward The navvy,
(with a cry of pain, his hand to his back) Ah! Bright's! Lights!
(points to the navvy) A spy. Don't attract attention. I hate stupid crowds. I
Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and bull story.
I want to tell you a little secret about how I came to be here. But you must
(all agog) O, not for worlds.
Let's walk on. Shall us?
(The bawd makes an unheeded sign. Bloom walks on with Mrs
(in an oatmeal sporting suit, a sprig of woodbine in the lapel, tony buff
together to Fairyhouse races, was it?
(in smart Saxe tailormade, white velours hat and spider veil) Leopards-
I mean, Leopardstown. And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old
eleven, a bit of wire and an old rag of velveteen, and I'll lay you what you
like she did it on purpose ....
She did, of course, the cat! Don't tell me! Nice adviser!
Because it didn't suit you one quarter as well as the other ducky little
(squeezes his arm, simpers) Naughty cruel I was!
(low, secretly, ever more rapidly) And Molly was eating a sandwich of
Too ....Yes. And Molly was laughing because Rogers and Maggot O'Reilly were
mimicking a cock as we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses, the
tea merchant, drove past us in a gig with his daughter, Dancer Moses was
her name, and the poodle in her lap bridled up and you asked me if I ever
heard or read or knew or came across ....
(eagerly) Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.
(She fades from his side. . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . Followed by the whining dog he walks on
(crouches, his voice twisted in his snout) And when Cairns came down
(guffaw with cleft palates) O jays!
(Their paintspeckled hats wag. Spattered with size and lime of their.
lodges they frisk limblessly about him.)
Coincidence too. They think it funny. Anything but that. Broad daylight.
Jays, that's a good one. Glauber salts. O jays, into the men's porter.
(Bloom passes. Cheap whores, singly, coupled, shawled, dishevelled,
Are you going far, queer fellow?
How's your middle leg?
Got a match on you?
Eh, come here till I stiffen it for you.
(He plodges through their sump towards the lighted street beyond.
(belching) Where's the bloody house?
Purdon street. Shilling a bottle of stout. Respectable woman.
(gripping the two redcoats, staggers forward with them) Come on, you
(behind his back) He aint half balmy.
(laughs) What ho!
We are the boys.
Say! What price the sergeantmajor?
Bennett? He's my pal. I love old Bennett.
The galling chain.
(He staggers forward, dragging them with him. .
Bloom stops, at
Wildgoose chase this. Disorderly houses. Lord knows where they are gone.
for? Still, he's the best of that lot. If I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy
Purefoy I wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have met. Kismet. He'll lose
that cash. Relieving office here. Good biz for cheapjacks, organs. What do
ye lack? Soon got, soon gone. Might have lost my life too with that man-
gongwheeltracktrolleyglarejuggernaut only for presence of mind. Can't
always save you, though. If I had passed Truelock's window that day two
minutes later would have been shot. Absence of body. Still if bullet only
went through my coat get damages for shock, five hundred pounds. What
was he? Kildare street club toff. God help his gamekeeper.
(He gazes ahead, reading on the wall a scrawled chalk legend Wet Dream
and a phallic design.) Odd! Molly drawing on the frosted carriagepane at
Kingstown. What's that like? .
(Gaudy dollwomen loll in the lighted
of the sicksweet weed floats towards him in slow round ovalling wreaths.)
Sweet are the sweets. Sweets of sin..
My spine's a bit limp. Go or turn? And this food? Eat it and get all
(The retriever drives a cold snivelling muzzle against his hand, wagging his
tail.) Strange how they take to me. Even that brute today. Better speak to
him first. Like women they like rencontres. Stinks like a polecat. Chacun
son got. He might be mad. Dogdays. Uncertain in his movements. Good
fellow! Fido! Good fellow! Garryowen! (The wolfdog sprawls on his back,
wriggling obscenely with begging paws, his long black tongue lolling out.)
Influence of his surroundings. Give and have done with it. Provided
nobody. (Calling encouraging words he shambles back with a furtive
poacher's tread, dogged by the setter into a dark stalestunk corner. He
unrolls one parcel and goes to dump the crubeen softly but holds back and
feels the trotter.) Sizeable for threepence. But then I have it in my left hand.
Calls for more effort. Why? Smaller from want of use. O, let it slide. Two
(With regret he lets the unrolled crubeen and trotter slide. The
Two raincaped watch approach, silent,
Bloom. Of Bloom. For Bloom. Bloom.
(Each lays hand on Bloom's shoulder.)
Caught in the act. Commit no nuisance.
(stammers) I am doing good to others.
(A covey of gulls, storm petrels, rises hungrily from Liffey slime
Kaw kave kankury kake.The friend of man. Trained by kindness.
(He points. Bob Doran, toppling from a high barstool, sways over
Towser. Give us the paw. Give the paw.
(The bulldog growls, his scruff standing, a gobbet of pig's knuckle
Prevention of cruelty to animals.
(enthusiastically) A noble work! I scolded that tramdriver on Harold's
(Signor Maffei, passionpale, in liontamer's costume with diamond
studs in his shirtfront, steps forward, holding a circus paperhoop, a
curling carriagewhip and a revolver with which he covers the
was I broke in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent spiked saddle for
carnivores. Lash under the belly with a knotted thong. Block tackle and a
strangling pulley will bring your lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even
Leo ferox there, the Libyan maneater. A redhot crowbar and some liniment
rubbing on the burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the thinking
hyena. (he glares) I possess the Indian sign. The glint of my eye does it
with these breastsparklers. (with a bewitching smile) I now introduce
Mademoiselle Ruby, the pride of the ring.
I have forgotten for the moment. Ah, yes! (he takes off his high grade hat,
(A card falls from inside the leather headband of Bloom's hat.)
of the Legion of Honour, picks up the card hastily and offers it) Allow me.
My club is the Junior Army and Navy. Solicitors: Messrs John Henry
Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk.
(reads) Henry Flower. No fixed abode. Unlawfully watching and
An alibi. You are cautioned.
(produces from his heartpocket a crumpled yellow flower) This is the
(A dark mercurialised face appears, leading a veiled figure.)
THE DARK MERCURY
The Castle is looking for him. He was drummed out of the army.
(thickveiled, a crimson halter round her neck, a copy of the Irish Times in
(sternly) Come to the station.
(scared, hats himself, steps back, then, plucking at his heart and lifting his
medical men. By striking him dead with a hatchet. I am wrongfully
accused. Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned.
(sobbing behind her veil) Breach of promise. My real name is Peggy
(behind his hand) She's drunk. The woman is inebriated. (he murmurs
(tears in his eyes, to Bloom) You ought to be thoroughly well ashamed of
Gentlemen of the jury, let me explain. A pure mare's nest. I am a man
the daughter of a most distinguished commander, a gallant upstanding
gentleman, what do you call him, Majorgeneral Brian Tweedy, one of
Britain's fighting men who helped to win our battles. Got his majority for
the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift.
(turns to the gallery) The royal Dublins, boys, the salt of the earth, known
homes, the pluckiest lads and the finest body of men, as physique, in the
service of our sovereign.
Turncoat! Up the Boers! Who booed Joe Chamberlain?
(his hand on the shoulder of the first watch) My old dad too was a J. P.
nozzle again the bank.
Profession or trade.
Well, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist. In fact we are just
(Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a quill between his teeth. His
a telephone receiver nozzle to his ear.)
(his cock's wattles wagging) Hello, seventyseven eightfour. Hello.
(Mr Philip Beaufoy, palefaced, stands in the witnessbox, in accurate
morning dress, outbreast pocket with peak of handkerchief
showing, creased lavender trousers and patent boots. He carries a
large portfolio labelled Matcham's Masterstrokes.)
(drawls) No, you aren't. Not by a long shot if I know it. I don't see it
(murmurs with hangdog meekness glum) That bit about the laughing
(his lip upcurled, smiles superciliously on the court) You funny ass, you!
(indistinctly) University of life. Bad art.
(shouts) It's a damnably foul lie, showing the moral rottenness of the man!
A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY
Moses, Moses, king of the jews,
You low cad! You ought to be ducked in the horsepond, you rotter! (to the
archconspirator of the age!
(to the court) And he, a bachelor, how...
The King versus Bloom. Call the woman Driscoll.
Mary Driscoll, scullerymaid!
(Mary Driscoll, a slipshod servant girl, approaches. She has a
Another! Are you of the unfortunate class?
(indignantly) I'm not a bad one. I bear a respectable character and was
chances with Fridays out and I had to leave owing to his carryings on.
What do you tax him with?
He made a certain suggestion but I thought more of myself as poor as I am.
(in housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, heelless slippers, unshaven,
(excitedly) As God is looking down on me this night if ever I laid a hand to
The offence complained of? Did something happen?
He surprised me in the rere of the premises, Your honour, when the missus
(scornfully) I had more respect for the scouringbrush, so I had. I
(clerk of the crown and peace, resonantly) Order in court! The accused
(Bloom, pleading not guilty and holding a fullblown waterlily,
begins a long unintelligible speech. They would hear what counsel
had to say in his stirring address to the grand jury. He was down
and out but, though branded as a black sheep, if he might say so, he
meant to reform, to retrieve the memory of the past in a purely
sisterly way and return to nature as a purely domestic animal. A
sevenmonths' child, he had been carefully brought up and nurtured
the heaving bosom of the family. An acclimatised Britisher, he had
seen that summer eve from the footplate of an engine cab of the
Loop line railway company while the rain refrained from falling
glimpses, as it were, through the windows of loveful households in
Dublin city and urban district of scenes truly rural of happiness of
the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one and ninepence a
dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to the Sacred
Infant, youthful scholars grappling with their pensums or model
young ladies playing on the pianoforte or anon all with fervour
reciting the family rosary round the crackling Yulelog while in the
boreens and green lanes the colleens with their swains strolled what
times the strains of the organtoned melodeon Britanniametalbound
with four acting stops and twelvefold bellows, a sacrifice, greatest
bargain ever ....)
(Renewed laughter. He mumbles incoherently. Reporters complain
LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND
(without looking up from their notebooks) Loosen his boots.
(The crossexamination proceeds re Bloom and the bucket. A large
J. J. O'MOLLOY
(in barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking with a voice of pained
aberration of heredity, brought on by hallucination, such familiarities as the
alleged guilty occurrence being quite permitted in my client's native place,
the land of the Pharaoh. Prima facie, I put it to you that there was no
attempt at carnally knowing. Intimacy did not occur and the offence
complained of by Driscoll, that her virtue was solicited, was not repeated. I
would deal in especial with atavism. There have been cases of shipwreck
and somnambulism in my client's family. If the accused could speak he
could a tale unfold - one of the strangest that have ever been narrated
between the covers of a book. He himself, my lord, is a physical wreck from
cobbler's weak chest. His submission is that he is of Mongolian extraction
and irresponsible for his actions. Not all there, in fact.
(Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in lascar's vest and trousers, apologetic toes
slow hand across his forehead. Then he hitches his belt sailor fashion and
with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court, pointing one thumb
heavenward.) Him makee velly muchee fine night. (he begins to lilt simply)
Li li poo lil chile
(He is howled down.)
J. J. O'MOLLOY
(hotly to the populace) This is a lonehand fight. By Hades, I will not have
and laughing hyenas. The Mosaic code has superseded the law of the
jungle. I say it and 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. The young person was treated by
defendant as if she were his very own daughter. (Bloom takes J. J.
O'Molloy's hand and raises it to his lips) I shall call rebutting evidence to
prove up to the hilt that the hidden hand is again at its old game. When in
doubt persecute Bloom. My client, an innately bashful man, would be the
last man in the world to do anything ungentlemanly which injured modesty
could object to or cast a stone at a girl who took the wrong turning when
some dastard, responsible for her condition, had worked his own sweet will
on her. He wants to go straight. I regard him as the whitest man I know.
He is down on his luck at present owing to the mortgaging of his extensive
property at Agendath Netaim in faraway Asia Minor, slides of which will
now be shown. (to Bloom) I suggest that you will do the handsome thing.
A penny in the pound.
(The image of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in
albino, in blue dungarees, stands up in the gallery, holding in each
hand an orange citron and a pork kidney.)
(hoarsely) Bleibtreustrasse, Berlin, W. 13.
(J. J. O'Molloy steps on to a low plinth and holds the lapel of his
(almost voicelessly) Excuse me. I am suffering from a severe chill, have
(A paper with something written on it is handed into court.)
(in court dress) Can give best references. Messrs Callan, Coleman. Mr
Wisdom Hely J. P. My old chief Joe Cuffe. Mr V. B. Dillon, ex lord mayor
of Dublin. I have moved in the charmed circle of the highest .... Queens of
Dublin society. (carelessly) I was just chatting this afternoon at the
viceregal lodge to my old pals, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal
at the levee. Sir Bob, I said ......
MRS YELVERTON BARRY
(in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a
Tipperary on the Munster circuit, signed James Lovebirch. He said that he
had seen from the gods my peerless globes as I sat in a box of the Theatre
Royal at a command performance of La Cigale. I deeply inflamed him, he
said. He made improper overtures to me to misconduct myself at half past
four p.m. on the following Thursday, Dunsink time. He offered to send me
through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitledThe
Girl with the Three Pairs of Stays.
(in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her
from inside her huge opossum muff) Also to me. Yes, I believe it is the same
objectionable person. Because he closed my carriage door outside sir
Thornley Stoker's one sleety day during the cold snap of February
ninetythree when even the grid of the wastepipe and the ballstop in my bath
cistern were frozen. Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled
on the heights, as he said, in my honour. I had it examined by a botanical
expert and elicited the information that it was a blossom of the homegrown
potato plant purloined from a forcingcase of the model farm.
MRS YELVERTON BARRY
(A crowd of sluts and ragamuffins surges forward)
(screaming) Stop thief! Hurrah there, Bluebeard! Three cheers for Ikey
(produces handcuffs) Here are the darbies.
Venus in furs and alleged profound pity for my frostbound coachman
Palmer while in the same breath he expressed himself as envious of his
earflaps and fleecy sheepskins and of his fortunate proximity to my person,
when standing behind my chair wearing my livery and the armorial
bearings of the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable, a buck's head
couped or. 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. He urged me (stating that he felt it his mission in life to urge me) to
defile the marriage bed, to commit adultery at the earliest possible
THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS
(in amazon costume, hard hat, jackboots cockspurred, vermilion waistcoat,
hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such
as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. I have it
still. It represents a partially nude senorita, frail and lovely (his wife, as he
solemnly assured me, taken by him from nature), practising illicit
intercourse with a muscular torero, evidently a blackguard. He urged me to
do likewise, to misbehave, to sin with officers of the garrison. He implored
me to soil his letter in an unspeakable manner, to chastise him as he richly
deserves, to bestride and ride him, to give him a most vicious
MRS YELVERTON BARRY
(Several highly respectable Dublin ladies hold up improper letters
THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS
(stamps her jingling spurs in a sudden paroxysm of fury) I will, by the
(his eyes closing, quails expectantly) Here? (he squirms) Again! (he pants
THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS
Very much so! I'll make it hot for you. I'll make you dance Jack Latten for
Tan his breech well, the upstart! Write the stars and stripes on it!
MRS YELVERTON BARRY
Disgraceful! There's no excuse for him! A married man!All these people. I meant only the spanking idea. A warm tingling glow
without effusion. Refined birching to stimulate the circulation.
THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS
(laughs derisively) O, did you, my fine fellow? Well, by the living God,
(shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses vindictively) Make him smart,
(shuddering, shrinking, joins his hands: with hangdog mien) O cold! O
MRS YELVERTON BARRY
(severely) Don't do so on any account, Mrs Talboys! He should be
THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS
(unbuttoning her gauntlet violently) I'll do no such thing. Pigdog and
black and blue in the public streets. I'll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel.
He is a wellknown cuckold. (she swishes her huntingcrop savagely in the
air) Take down his trousers without loss of time. Come here, sir! Quick!
(trembling, beginning to obey) The weather has been so warm.
(Davy Stephens, ringletted, passes with a bevy of barefoot
DAVY STEPHEN S
Day supplement. Containing the new addresses of all the cuckolds in
(The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of gold cope elevates
(The brass quoits of a bed are heard to jingle.)
Jigjag. Jigajiga. Jigjag.
(A panel of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing rapidly in the jurybox
THE NAMELESS ONE
(all their heads turned to his voice) Really?
THE NAMELESS ONE
(snarls) Arse over tip. Hundred shillings to five.
(all their heads lowered in assent) Most of us thought as much.
He is a marked man. Another girl's plait cut. Wanted: Jack the Ripper. A
(awed, whispers) And in black. A mormon. Anarchist.
(loudly) Whereas Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a wellknown
(His Honour, sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, in judicial
I will put an end to this white slave traffic and rid Dublin of this odious
(A black skullcap descends upon his head. The subsheriff Long
John Fanning appears, smoking a pungent Henry Clay.)
LONG JOHN FANNING
(scowls and calls with rich rolling utterance) Who'll hang Judas Iscariot?
(H. Rumbold, master barber, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and
(to the recorder with sinister familiarity) Hanging Harry, your Majesty,
(The bells of George's church toll slowly, loud dark iron.)
(desperately) Wait. Stop. Gulls. Good heart. I saw. Innocence. Girl in the
(coldly) You are a perfect stranger.
(points to the corner) The bomb is here.
Infernal machine with a time fuse.
No, no. Pig's feet. I was at a funeral.
(draws his truncheon) Liar!
(The beagle lifts his snout, showing the grey scorbutic face of
Paddy Dignam. He has gnawed all. He exhales a putrid carcasefed
breath. He grows to human size and shape. His dachshund coat
becomes a brown mortuary habit His green eye flashes bloodshot
Half of one ear, all the nose and both thumbs are ghouleaten.)
(in a hollow voice) It is true. It was my funeral. Doctor Finucane
(He lifts his mutilated ashen face moonwards and bays
(in triumph) You hear?
Bloom, I am Paddy Dignam's spirit. List, list, O list!
The voice is the voice of Esau.
(blesses himself) How is that possible?
By metempsychosis. Spooks.
(earnestly) Once I was in the employ of Mr J. H. Menton, solicitor,
buttermilk didn't agree with me.
(The portly figure of John O'Connell, caretaker, stands forth,
(yawns, then chants with a hoarse croak) Namine. Jacobs. Vobiscuits.
(with pricked up ears, winces) Overtones. (he wriggles forward and
Burial docket letter number U. P. eightyfive thousand. Field seventeen.
(Paddy Dignam listens with visible effort, thinking, his tail
(He worms down through a coalhole, his brown habit trailing its
(a hand to his breastbone, bows) Reuben J. A florin I find him. (he fixes
(He executes a daredevil salmon leap in the air and is engulfed in
Bloom plodges forward again through the sump. Kisses
lighted house, listening. .
The kisses, winging from their bowers fly
(warbling) Leo! (twittering) Icky licky micky sticky for Leo! (cooing)
(They rustle, flutter upon his garments, alight, bright giddy flecks,
A man's touch. Sad music. Church music. Perhaps here.
(Zoe Higgins, a young whore in a sapphire slip, closed with three
Are you looking for someone? He's inside with his friend.Is this Mrs Mack's?
No, eightyone. Mrs Cohen's. You might go farther and fare worse. Mother
Not I!You both in black. Has little mousey any tickles tonight?
(His skin, alert, feels her fingertips approach. A hand glides over
How's the nuts?
Off side. Curiously they are on the right. Heavier, I suppose. One in a
(in sudden alarm) You've a hard chancre.
I feel it.
(Her hand slides into his left trouser pocket and brings out a hard
A talisman. Heirloom.
For Zoe? For keeps? For being so nice, eh?
(She puts the potato greedily into a pocket then links his arm,
her eyes, ringed with kohol. His smile softens.)
You'll know me the next time.
(forlornly) I never loved a dear gazelle but it was sure to ....
(Gazelles are leaping, feeding on the mountains. Near are lakes.
(murmuring singsong with the music, her odalisk lips lusciously smeared
(fascinated) I thought you were of good stock by your accent.
And you know what thought did?
(She bites his ear gently with little goldstopped teeth, sending on
sepulchre of the gold of kings and their mouldering bones.)
(draws back, mechanically caressing her right bub with a flat awkward
(catches a stray hair deftly and twists it to her coil) No bloody fear. I'm
(as before) Rarely smoke, dear. Cigar now and then. Childish device.
Go on. Make a stump speech out of it..
(in workman's corduroy overalls, black gansy with red floating tie and
All our habits. Why, look at our public life!
(Midnight chimes from distant steeples.)
Turn again, Leopold! Lord mayor of Dublin!
(in alderman's gown and chain) Electors of Arran Quay, Inns Quay,
Three times three for our future chief magistrate!
(The aurora borealis of the torchlight procession leaps.)
(Several wellknown burgesses, city magnates and freemen of the
LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON
(in scarlet robe with mace, gold mayoral chain and large white silk scarf)
COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK
Carried unanimously.(impassionedly) These flying Dutchmen or lying Dutchmen as they recline
in their upholstered poop, casting dice, what reck they? Machines is their
cry, their chimera, their panacea. Laboursaving apparatuses, supplanters,
bugbears, manufactured monsters for mutual murder, hideous hobgoblins
produced by a horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted labour. The
poor man starves while they are grassing their royal mountain stags or
shooting peasants and phartridges in their purblind pomp of pelf and
power. But their reign is rover for rever and ever and ev ...
(Prolonged applause. Venetian masts, maypoles and festal arches
thronged with sightseers, chiefly ladies. Along the route the
regiments of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers, the King's Own Scottish
Borderers, the Cameron Highlanders and the Welsh Fusiliers
standing to attention, keep back the crowd. Boys from High school
are perched on the lampposts, telegraph poles, windowsills,
cornices, gutters, chimneypots, railings, rainspouts, whistling and
cheering The pillar of the cloud appears. A fife and drum band is
heard in the distance playing the Kol Nidre. The beaters approach
with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental
palms. The chryselephantine papal standard rises high, surrounded
by pennons of the civic flag. The van of the procession appears
headed by John Howard Parnell, city marshal, in a chessboard
tabard, the Athlone poursuivant and Ulster King of Arms. They are
followed by the Right Honourable Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor
of Dublin, his lordship the lord mayor of Cork, their worships the
mayors of Limerick, Galway, Sligo and Waterford, twentyeight
Irish representative peers, sirdars, grandees and maharajahs bearing
the cloth of estate, the Dublin Metropolitan Fire Brigade, the
chapter of the saints of finance in their plutocratic order of
precedence, the bishop of Down and Connor, His Eminence
Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all
Ireland, His Grace, the most reverend Dr William Alexander,
bootjack manufacturers, undertakers, silk mercers, lapidaries,
salesmasters, corkcutters, assessors of fire losses, dyers and cleaners,
export bottlers, fellmongers, ticketwriters, heraldic seal engravers,
horse repository hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery
outfitters, riddlemakers, egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers,
plumbing contractors. After them march gentlemen of the
bedchamber, Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the master of
horse, the lord great chamberlain, the earl marshal, the high
constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown,
the chalice and bible. Four buglers on foot blow a sennet. Beefeaters
reply, winding clarions of welcome. Under an arch of triumph
Bloom appears, bareheaded, in a crimson velvet mantle trimmed
with ermine, bearing Saint Edward's staff the orb and sceptre with
the dove, the curtana. He is seated on a milkwhite horse with long
flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with golden headstall. Wild
excitement. The ladies from their balconies throw down rosepetals.
The air is perfumed with essences. The men cheer. Bloom's boys
run amid the bystanders with branches of hawthorn and
The wren, the wren,
(murmurs) For the honour of God! And is that Bloom? He scarcely looks
A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER
That's the famous Bloom now, the world's greatest reformer. Hats off!
(All uncover their heads. Women whisper eagerly.)
(richly) Isn't he simply wonderful?
(nobly) All that man has seen!
(masculinely) And done!
A classic face! He has the forehead of a thinker.
(Bloom's weather. A sunburst appears in the northwest.)
THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR
I here present your undoubted emperor-president and king-chairman, the
God save Leopold the First!
(in dalmatic and purple mantle, to the bishop of Down and Connor, with
WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH
(in purple stock and shovel hat) Will you to your power cause law and
(placing his right hand on his testicles, swears) So may the Creator deal
MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH
(pours a cruse of hairoil over Bloom's head) Gaudium magnum annuntio
(Bloom assumes a mantle of cloth of gold and puts on a ruby ring
Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from all sides with symbolical
I do become your liege man of life and limb to earthly worship.
(Bloom holds up his right hand on which sparkles the Koh-i-Noor
diamond. His palfrey neighs. Immediate silence. Wireless
intercontinental and interplanetary transmitters are set for reception
My subjects! We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix
(The former morganatic spouse of Bloom is hastily removed in the
crescent on her head, descends from a Sedan chair, borne by two
giants. An outburst of cheering.)
JOHN HOWARD PARNELL
(raises the royal standard) Illustrious Bloom! Successor to my famous
(embraces John Howard Parnell) We thank you from our heart, John, for
(The freedom of the city is presented to him embodied in a charter.
The keys of Dublin, crossed on a crimson cushion, are given to him.
He shows all that he is wearing green socks.)
You deserve it, your honour.
On this day twenty years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at
Bonafide Sabaoth, sabred the Saracen gunners to a man.
THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS
JOHN WYSE NOLAN
There's the man that got away James Stephens.
A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY
AN OLD RESIDENT
You're a credit to your country, sir, that's what you are.
He's a man like Ireland wants.
My beloved subjects, a new era is about to dawn. I, Bloom, tell you verily it
(Thirtytwo workmen, wearing rosettes, from all the counties of
In the course of its extension several buildings and monuments are
demolished. Government offices are temporarily transferred to
railway sheds. Numerous houses are razed to the ground. The
inhabitants are lodged in barrels and boxes, all marked in red with
the letters: L. B. Several paupers fill from a ladder. A part of the
walls of Dublin, crowded with loyal sightseers, collapses.)
(dying) Morituri te salutant. (they die)
(A man in a brown macintosh springs up through a trapdoor. He
THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH
Don't you believe a word he says. That man is Leopold M'Intosh, the
Shoot him! Dog of a christian! So much for M'Intosh!
(A cannonshot. The man in the macintosh disappears. Bloom with
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 form of cocked
hats, readymade suits, porringers of toad in the hole, bottles of
Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins,
dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, season tickets available for
all tramlines, coupons of the royal and privileged Hungarian
lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of the World's Twelve
Worst Books: Froggy and Fritz (politic), Care of the Baby
(infantilic), so Meals for 7/6 (culinic), Was Jesus a Sun Myth?
(historic), Expel That Pain (medic), Infant's Compendium of the
Universe (cosmic), Let's All Chortle (hilaric), Canvasser's Vade
Mecum (journalic), Loveletters of Mother Assistant (erotic), Who's
Who in Space (astric), Songs that Reached Our Heart (melodic),
Pennywise's Way to Wealth (parsimonic). A general rush and
scramble. Women press forward to touch the hem of Bloom's robe.
The lady Gwendolen Dubedat bursts through the throng, leaps on
his horse and kisses him on both cheeks amid great acclamation. A
magnesium flashlight photograph is taken. Babes and sucklings are
Little father! Little father!
THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS
Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home,
(Bloom, bending down, pokes Baby Boardman gently in the
(hiccups, curdled milk flowing from his mouth) Hajajaja.
(shaking hands with a blind stripling) My more than Brother! (placing his
waitress and laughs kindly) Ah, naughty, naughty! (he eats a raw turnip
offered him by Maurice Butterly, farmer) Fine! Splendid! (he refuses to
accept three shillings offered him by Joseph Hynes, journalist) My dear
fellow, not at all! (he gives his coat to a beggar) Please accept. (he takes
part in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples) Come on,
boys! Wriggle it, girls!
(choked with emotion, brushes aside a tear in his emerald muffler) May the
(The rams' horns sound for silence. The standard of Zion is
(uncloaks impressively, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper and reads
(An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry, assistant town
administer open air justice. Free medical and legal advice, solution of
doubles and other problems. All cordially invited. Given at this our loyal
city of Dublin in the year I of the Paradisiacal Era.
What am I to do about my rates and taxes?
Pay them, my friend.
Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance?
(obdurately) Sirs, take notice that by the law of torts you are bound over
J. J. O'MOLLOY
A Daniel did I say? Nay! A Peter O'Brien!
Where do I draw the five pounds?
Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims
What is the parallax of the subsolar ecliptic of Aldebaran?
Pleased to hear from you, Chris. K. II.
Why aren't you in uniform?
When my progenitor of sainted memory wore the uniform of the Austrian
Embellish (beautify) suburban gardens.
Father (pater, dad) starts thinking.
An eightday licence for my new premises. You remember me, sir Leo, when
(coldly) You have the advantage of me. Lady Bloom accepts no presents.
(solemnly) You call it a festivity. I call it a sacrament.
When will we have our own house of keys?
I stand for the reform of municipal morals and the plain ten
must now cease. General amnesty, weekly carnival with masked licence,
bonuses for all, esperanto the universal language with universal
brotherhood. No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors.
Free money, free rent, free love and a free lay church in a free lay state.
Free fox in a free henroost.
(yawning) Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach!Mixed races and mixed marriage.
What about mixed bathing?
(Bloom explains to those near him his schemes for social
Obstetrics and Astronomy for the People.)
He is an episcopalian, an agnostic, an anythingarian seeking to overthrow
(tears up her will) I'm disappointed in you! You bad man!
(removes her boot to throw it at Bloom) You beast! You abominable
Give us a tune, Bloom. One of the old sweet songs.
(with rollicking humour)
I vowed that I never would leave her,
Good old Bloom! There's nobody like him after all.
What railway opera is like a tramline in Gibraltar? The Rows of Casteele.
Plagiarist! Down with Bloom!
THE VEILED SIBYL
(enthusiastically) I'm a Bloomite and I glory in it. I believe in him in spite
(in fishingcap and oilskin jacket) He employs a mechanical device to
THE VEILED SIBYL
(stabs herself) My hero god! (she dies)
(Many most attractive and enthusiastic women also commit suicide
in gasovens, hanging themselves in stylish garters, leaping from
windows of different storeys.)
ALEXANDER J DOWIE
(violently) Fellowchristians and antiBloomites, the man called Bloom is
boiling oil are for him. Caliban!
Lynch him! Roast him! He's as bad as Parnell was. Mr Fox!
(Mother Grogan throws her boot at Bloom. Several shopkeepers
(excitedly) This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke again. By
is my double. He lives in number 2 Dolphin's Barn. Slander, the viper, has
wrongfully accused me. Fellowcountrymen, sgeul i mbarr bata coisde gan
capall. I call on my old friend, Dr Malachi Mulligan, sex specialist, to give
medical testimony on my behalf.
(in motor jerkin, green motorgoggles on his brow) Dr Bloom is bisexually
exhibitionism. Ambidexterity is also latent. He is prematurely bald from
selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and has
metal teeth. In consequence of a family complex he has temporarily lost his
memory and I believe him to be more sinned against than sinning. I have
made a pervaginal examination and, after application of the acid test to
5427 anal, axillary, pectoral and pubic hairs, I declare him to be virgo
(Bloom holds his high grade hat over his genital organs.)
Hypsospadia is also marked. In the interest of coming generations I suggest
I have examined the patient's urine. It is albuminoid. Salivation is
DR PUNCH COSTELLO
The fetor judaicus is most perceptible.
womanly man. His moral nature is simple and lovable. Many have found
him a dear man, a dear person. He is a rather quaint fellow on the whole,
coy though not feebleminded in the medical sense. He has written a really
beautiful letter, a poem in itself, to the court missionary of the Reformed
Priests' Protection Society which clears up everything. He is practically a
total abstainer and I can affirm that he sleeps on a straw litter and eats the
most Spartan food, cold dried grocer's peas. He wears a hairshirt of pure
Irish manufacture winter and summer and scourges himself every
Saturday. He was, I understand, at one time a firstclass misdemeanant in
Glencree reformatory. Another report states that he was a very posthumous
child. I appeal for clemency in the name of the most sacred word our vocal
organs have ever been called upon to speak. He is about to have a baby.
(General commotion and compassion. Women faint. A wealthy
O, I so want to be a mother.
(in nursetender's gown) Embrace me tight, dear. You'll be soon over it.
(Bloom embraces her tightly and bears eight male yellow and white
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.)
Bloom, are you the Messiah ben Joseph or ben David?
(darkly) You have said it.
Prophesy who will win the Saint Leger.
(Bloom walks on a net, covers his left eye with his left ear, passes
Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different
directions, bids the tide turn back, eclipses the sun by extending his
BRINI, PAPAL NUNCIO
(in papal zouave's uniform, steel cuirasses as breastplate, armplates,
and MacKay begat Ostrolopsky and Ostrolopsky begat Smerdoz and
Smerdoz begat Weiss and Weiss begat Schwarz and Schwarz begat
Adrianopoli and Adrianopoli begat Aranjuez and Aranjuez begat Lewy
Lawson and Lewy Lawson begat Ichabudonosor and Ichabudonosor begat
O'Donnell Magnus and O'Donnell Magnus begat Christbaum and
Christbaum begat ben Maimun and ben Maimun begat Dusty Rhodes and
Dusty Rhodes begat Benamor and Benamor begat Jones-Smith and
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.
(writes on the wall) Bloom is a cod.
(in bushranger's kit) What did you do in the cattlecreep behind
A FEMALE INFANT
(shakes a rattle) And under Ballybough bridge?
And in the devil's glen?
(blushes furiously all over from frons to nates, three tears filling from his
THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS
(in bodycoats, kneebreeches, with Donnybrook fair shillelaghs) Sjambok
(Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in the pillory with crossed
Gate Mission, joining hands, caper round in the opposite direction.)
THE ARTANE ORPHANS
You hig, you hog, you dirty dog!
THE PRISON GATE GIRLS
If you see Kay
(in ephod and huntingcap, announces) And he shall carry the sins of the
(All the people cast soft pantomime stones at Bloom. Many bonafide
(George R Mesias, Bloom's tailor, appears, a tailor's goose under
To alteration one pair trousers eleven shillings.
(rubs his hands cheerfully) Just like old times. Poor Bloom!
(Reuben J Dodd, blackbearded Iscariot, bad shepherd, bearing on
(whispers hoarsely) The squeak is out. A split is gone for the flatties. Nip
THE FIRE BRIGADE
(Invests Bloom in a yellow habit with embroidery of painted flames and
(Lieutenant Myers of the Dublin Fire Brigade by general request
(in a seamless garment marked I. H. S. stands upright amid phoenix
(The daughters of Erin, in black garments, with large prayerbooks
Flower of the Bath, pray for us
Mentor of Menton, pray for us
Canvasser for the Freeman, pray for us
Charitable Mason, pray for us
Wandering Soap, pray for us
Sweets of Sin, pray for us
Music without Words, pray for us
Reprover of the Citizen, pray for us
Friend of all Frillies, pray for us
Midwife Most Merciful, pray for us
Potato Preservative against Plague and Pestilence, pray for us.
(A choir of six hundred voices, conducted by Vincent O'Brien,
Talk away till you're black in the face.
(in caubeen with clay pipe stuck in the band, dusty brogues, an emigrant's
sugaun, with a smile in his eye) Let me be going now, woman of the house,
for by all the goats in Connemara I'm after having the father and mother of
a bating. (with a tear in his eye) All insanity. Patriotism, sorrow for the
dead, music, future of the race. To be or not to be. Life's dream is o'er. End
it peacefully. They can live on. (he gazes far away mournfully) I am
ruined. A few pastilles of aconite. The blinds drawn. A letter. Then lie back
to rest. (he breathes softly) No more. I have lived. Fare. Farewell.
(stiffly, her finger in her neckfillet) Honest? Till the next time. (she sneers)
best girl. O, I can read your thoughts!
(bitterly) Man and woman, love, what is it? A cork and bottle. I'm sick of
(in sudden sulks) I hate a rotter that's insincere. Give a bleeding whore a
(repentantly) I am very disagreeable. You are a necessary evil. Where are
(glibly) Hog's Norton where the pigs plays the organs. I'm Yorkshire
(smiles, nods slowly) More, houri, more.
And more's mother? (she pats him offhandedly with velvet paws) Are you
(feeling his occiput dubiously with the unparalleled embarrassment of a
(flattered) What the eye can't see the heart can't grieve for. (she pats him)
(in babylinen and pelisse, bigheaded, with a caul of dark hair, fixes big eyes
Love me. Love me not. Love me.Silent means consent. (With little parted talons she captures his hand, her
forefinger giving to his palm the passtouch of secret monitor, luring him to
doom.) Hot hands cold gizzard.
(He hesitates amid scents, music, temptations. She leads him
THE MALE BRUTES
(exhaling sulphur of rut and dung and ramping in their loosebox, faintly
(Zoe and Bloom reach the doorway where two sister whores are
seated. They examine him curiously from under their pencilled
brows and smile to his hasty bow. He trips awkwardly.)
(her lucky hand instantly saving him) Hoopsa! Don't fall upstairs.
The just man falls seven times. (he stands aside at the threshold) After you
Ladies first, gentlemen after.
(She crosses the threshold. He hesitates. She turns and, holding out
her hands, draws him over. He hops. On the antlered rack of the
hall hang a man 's hat and waterproof. Bloom uncovers himself but,
seeing them, frowns, then smiles, preoccupied. A door on the return
landing is flung open. A man in purple shirt and grey trousers,
brownsocked, passes with an ape's gait, his bald head and goatee
beard upheld, hugging a full waterjugjar, his twotailed black braces
dangling at heels. Averting his face quickly Bloom bends to examine
on the halltable the spaniel eyes of a running fox: then, his lifted
head sniffing, follows Zoe into the musicroom. A shade of mauve
tissuepaper dims the light of the chandelier. Round and round a
moth flies, colliding, escaping. The floor is covered with an oilcloth
mosaic of jade and azure and cinnabar rhomboids. Footmarks are
stamped over it in all senses, heel to heel, heel to hollow, toe to toe,
feet locked, a morris of shuffling feet without body phantoms, all in
hand, sits perched on the edge of the table swinging her leg and
glancing at herself in the gilt mirror over the mantelpiece. A tag of
her corsetlace hangs slightly below her jacket Lynch indicates
mockingly the couple at the piano.)
(coughs behind her hand) She's a bit imbecillic. (she signs with a waggling
More limelight, Charley. (she goes to the chandelier and turns the gas full
(peers at the gasjet) What ails it tonight?
(deeply) Enter a ghost and hobgoblins.
Clap on the back for Zoe.
(The wand in Lynch's hand flashes: a brass poker. Stephen stands
at the pianola on which sprawl his hat and ashplant. With two
fingers he repeats once more the series of empty fifths. Florry
Talbot, a blond feeble goosefat whore in a tatterdemalion gown of
mildewed strawberry, lolls spreadeagle in the sofacorner, her limp
forearm pendent over the bolster, listening. A heavy stye droops
over her sleepy eyelid.)
(hiccups again with a kick of her horsed foot) O, excuse!(promptly) Your boy's thinking of you. Tie a knot on your shift.
(Kitty Ricketts bends her head. Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over
As a matter of fact it is of no importance whether Benedetto Marcello found
saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the stable to his chief bassoonist
about the alrightness of his almightiness. Mais nom de nom, that is another
pair of trousers. Jetez la gourme. Faut que jeunesse se passe. (he stops, points
at Lynch's cap, smiles, laughs) Which side is your knowledge bump? .
(with saturnine spleen) Ba! It is because it is. Woman's reason. Jewgreek is
You remember fairly accurately all my errors, boasts, mistakes. How long
Here's another for you. (he frowns) The reason is because the
Which? Finish. You can't.
with. The ultimate return. The octave. Which.
(Outside the gramophone begins to blare The Holy City.)
(abruptly) What went forth to the ends of the world to traverse not itself,
(with a mocking whinny of laughter grins at Bloom and Zoe Higgins)
(briskly) God help your head, he knows more than you have forgotten.
(With obese stupidity Florry Talbot regards Stephen.)
They say the last day is coming this summer.No!
(explodes in laughter) Great unjust God!
(offended) Well, it was in the papers about Antichrist. O, my foot's
(Ragged barefoot newsboys, jogging a wagtail kite, patter past,
Stop press edition. Result of the rockinghorse races. Sea serpent in the
(Stephen turns and sees Bloom.)
A time, times and half a time..
(Reuben I Antichrist, wandering jew, a clutching hand open on his
with receding forehead and Ally Sloper nose, tumbles in
somersaults through the gathering darkness.)
(his jaws chattering, capers to and fro, goggling his eyes, squeaking,
roulette planets fly from his hands.) Les jeux sont faits! (the planets rush
together, uttering crepitant cracks) Rien va plus! (The planets, buoyant
balloons, sail swollen up and away. He springs off into vacuum.)
(sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly) The end of the world!
(A female tepid effluvium leaks out from her. Nebulous obscurity
Open your gates and sing
(A rocket rushes up the sky and bursts. A white star fills from it,
THE END OF THE WORLD
(Over the possing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah's voice,
No yapping, if you please, in this booth. Jake Crane, Creole Sue, Dove
mother you'll be there. Rush your order and you play a slick ace. Join on
right here. Book through to eternity junction, the nonstop run. Just one
word more. Are you a god or a doggone clod? If the second advent came to
Coney Island are we ready? Florry Christ, Stephen Christ, Zoe Christ,
Bloom Christ, Kitty Christ, Lynch Christ, it's up to you to sense that cosmic
force. Have we cold feet about the cosmos? No. Be on the side of the
angels. Be a prism. You have that something within, the higher self. You can
rub shoulders with a Jesus, a Gautama, an Ingersoll. Are you all in this
vibration? I say you are. You once nobble that, congregation, and a buck
joyride to heaven becomes a back number. You got me? It's a lifebrightener,
sure. The hottest stuff ever was. It's the whole pie with jam in. It's just the
cutest snappiest line out. It is immense, supersumptuous. It restores. It
vibrates. I know and I am some vibrator. Joking apart and, getting down to
bedrock, A. J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got
that? O. K. Seventyseven west sixtyninth street. Got me? That's it. You call
me up by sunphone any old time. Bumboosers, save your stamps. (he
shouts) Now then our glory song. All join heartily in the singing. Encore!
(he sings) Jeru ....
gratingly against the needle)
THE THREE WHORES
(covering their ears, squawk) Ahhkkk!
(in rolledup shirtsleeves, black in the face,shouts at the top of his voice,his
President. I certainly am thinking now Miss Higgins and Miss Ricketts got
religion way inside them. 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. Mr President, you come long and help me save our sisters dear. (he
winks at his audience) Our Mr President, he twig the whole lot and he aint
I forgot myself. In a weak moment I erred and did what I did on
It was in consequence of a portwine beverage on top of Hennessy's three
In the beginning was the word, in the end the world without end. Blessed be
(The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, Lenehan,
(incoherently) Beer beef battledog buybull businum barnum buggerum
(in quakergrey kneebreeches and broadbrimmed hat, says discreetly) He is
(He corantos by. Best enters in hairdresser's attire, shinily
bristles a pigtail toupee tied with an orange topknot) I was just beautifying
him, don't you know. A thing of beauty, don't you know, Yeats says, or I
mean, Keats says.
(produces a greencapped dark lantern and flashes it towards a corner: with
(In the cone of the searchlight behind the coalscuttle, ollave,
knees. He rises slowly. A cold seawind blows from his druid mouth.
About his head writhe eels and elvers. He is encrusted with weeds
and shells. His right hand holds a bicycle pump. His left hand
grasps a huge crayfish by its two talons.)
(with a voice of waves) Aum! Hek! Wal! Ak! Lub! Mor! Ma! White
bicycle pump the crayfish in his left hand. On its cooperative dial glow the
twelve signs of the zodiac. He wails with the vehemence of the ocean.)
Aum! Baum! Pyjaum! I am the light of the homestead! I am the dreamery
(A skeleton judashand strangles the light. The green light wanes to
(Zoe runs to the chandelier and, crooking her leg, adjusts the
Who has a fag as I'm here?
(tossing a cigarette on to the table) Here.
(her head perched aside in mock pride) Is that the way to hand the pot to
the beautyspot of my behind?
I'm not looking
(makes sheep's eyes) No? You wouldn't do a less thing. Would you suck a
(Squinting in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at
finger with her spittle and, gazing in the mirror, smooths both
Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down
pink stilts. He is sausaged into several overcoats and wears a brown
macintosh under which he holds a roll of parchment. In his left eye
flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall
Farrell. On his head is perched an Egyptian pshent Two quills
project over his ears.)
coughs thoughtfully, drily) Promiscuous nakedness is much in evidence
hereabouts, eh? Inadvertently her backview revealed the fact that she is not
wearing those rather intimate garments of which you are a particular
devotee. The injection mark on the thigh I hope you perceived? Good.
Granpapachi. But .....
Number two on the other hand, she of the cherry rouge and coiffeuse white,
to say. 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
exhibitionististicicity. In a word. Hippogriff. Am I right?
She is rather lean.
(not unpleasantly) Absolutely! Well observed and those pannier pockets of
dustspecks. Never put on you tomorrow what you can wear today.
Parallax! (with a nervous twitch of his head) Did you hear my brain go
(an elbow resting in a hand, a forefinger against his cheek) She seems sad.
(cynically, his weasel teeth bared yellow, draws down his left eye with a
genially) Well then, permit me to draw your attention to item number three.
There is plenty of her visible to the naked eye. Observe the mass of
oxygenated vegetable matter on her skull. What ho, she bumps! The ugly
duckling of the party, longcasted and deep in keel.
(regretfully) When you come out without your gun.
We can do you all brands, mild, medium and strong. Pay your money, take
(his tongue upcurling) Lyum! Look. Her beam is broad. She is coated with
with fennygreek and gumbenjamin swamped down by potions of green tea
endow them during their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite
colossal blubber. That suits your book, eh? Fleshhotpots of Egypt to
The stye I dislike.
(arches his eyebrows) Contact with a goldring, they say. Argumentum ad
Diplodocus and Ichthyosauros. For the rest Eve's sovereign remedy. Not
for sale. Hire only. Huguenot. (he twitches) It is a funny sound. (he
coughs encouragingly) But possibly it is only a wart. I presume you shall
have remembered what I will have taught you on that head? Wheatenmeal
with honey and nutmeg.
(reflecting) Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax. This searching
(severely, his nose hardhumped, his side eye winking) Stop twirling your
Rosemary also did I understand you to say or willpower over parasitic
energetically) This book tells you how to act with all descriptive
particulars. Consult index for agitated fear of aconite, melancholy of
muriatic, priapic pulsatilla. Virag is going to talk about amputation. Our
old friend caustic. They must be starved. Snip off with horsehair under the
denned neck. But, to change the venue to the Bulgar and the Basque, have
you made up your mind whether you like or dislike women in male
habiliments? (with a dry snigger) You intended to devote an entire year to
the study of the religious problem and the summer months of 1886 to
square the circle and win that million. Pomegranate! From the sublime to
the ridiculous is but a step. Pyjamas, let us say? Or stockingette gussetted
knickers, closed? Or, put we the case, those complicated combinations,
camiknickers? (he crows derisively) Keekeereekee!
(Bloom surveys uncertainly the three whores then gazes at the
I wanted then to have now concluded. Nightdress was never. Hence this.
in reiterated coition, lured by the smell of the inferiorly pulchritudinous
fumale possessing extendified pudendal nerve in dorsal region. Pretty Poll!
(his yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally) They had a proverb in the
Carpathians in or about the year five thousand five hundred and fifty of our
era. One tablespoonful of honey will attract friend Bruin more than half a
dozen barrels of first choice malt vinegar. Bear's buzz bothers bees. But of
this apart. At another time we may resume. We were very pleased, we
others. (he coughs and, bending his brow, rubs his nose thoughtfully with a
scooping hand) You shall find that these night insects follow the light. An
illusion for remember their complex unadjustable eye. 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 year.
Some, to example, there are again whose movements are automatic.
Perceive. That is his appropriate sun. Nightbird nightsun nighttown. Chase
me, Charley! (he blows into Bloom's ear) Buzz!
Bee or bluebottle too other day butting shadow on wall dazed self then me
his fly or mustard plaster on his dibble. (he gobbles gluttonously with
turkey wattles) Bubbly jock! Bubbly jock! Where are we? Open Sesame!
Cometh forth! (he unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads, his
glowworm's nose running backwards over the letters which he claws) Stay,
good friend. I bring thee thy answer. Redbank oysters will shortly be upon
us. I'm the best o'cook. Those succulent bivalves may help us and the
truffles of Perigord, tubers dislodged through mister omnivorous porker,
were unsurpassed in cases of nervous debility or viragitis. Though they
stink yet they sting. (he wags his head with cackling raillery) Jocular. With
my eyeglass in my ocular. (he sneezes) Amen!
(absently) Ocularly woman's bivalve case is worse. Always open sesame.
(his mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms
that they have been the the known ....
I am going to scream. I beg your pardon. Ah? So. (he repeats)
(head askew, arches his back and hunched wingshoulders, peers at the
O, I much fear he shall be most badly burned. Will some pleashe pershon
not now impediment so catastrophics mit agitation of firstclass
tablenumpkin? (he mews) Puss puss puss puss! (he sighs, draws back and
stares sideways down with dropping underjaw) Well, well. He doth rest
anon. (he snaps his jaws suddenly on the air)
I'm a tiny tiny thing
Now I do this kind of thing
On the wing, on the wing!
(he rushes against the mauve shade, flapping noisily)
Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty petticoats.
(From left upper entrance with two gliding steps Henry Flower
dulcimer and a longstemmed bamboo Jacob's pipe, its clay bowl
silverbuckled pumps. He has the romantic Saviour's face with
flowing locks, thin beard and moustache. His spindlelegs and
sparrow feet are those of the tenor Mario, prince of Candia. He
settles down his goffered ruffs and moistens his lips with a passage
of his amorous tongue.)
(in a low dulcet voice, touching the strings of his guitar) There is a flower
(Virag truculent, his jowl set, stares at the lamp. Grave Bloom
==< End of first half of Chap. >==