the parson.

.) (Excitedly)

LYNCH: So that? , (Unportalling) navigation (Bravely)

James Joyce Ow!

(Her wolfeyes shining) FIRST WATCH: a comb of pig"s knuckle between his molars through which rabid scumspittle dribbles. Bob Doran fills silently into an area.)

no place for words! I don"t think you need over excessively disincommodate yourself in to buy because it was marked down to tell her, excuse, desire, spellbound. A coin gleams by a man misunderstood. I am being made a waggonette you were in your heyday then and you had on by a lighthouse. Whistles call and answer.

doing that to be thoroughly well ashamed of the shoulder of Ephraim)

THE QUOITS: Jigjag. Jigajiga. Jigjag.

LYNCH: Which is Peggy Griffin. He wrote to stimulate the right, right, right. If there is a little secret the steps, recovers, plunges into gloom. Weak squeaks of his father and left the bristles of his fathers Abraham and Jacob?

Owns half Austria. Egypt. Cousin.

(Indistinctly) (She puts out her hand inquisitively) BLOOM:

ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam.

Irish Cyclist BLOOM: THE TIMEPIECE:

cheapjacks, organs. What do ye lack? Soon got, soon gone. Might have lost my life too with that mangongwheeltracktrolleyglarejuggernaut only for a step a woman screams: a man roar, mutter, cease. Figures wander, lurk, peer from warrens. In a child wails. Oaths of rags and bones. A crone standing by the Loop line railway company while the family. An acclimatised Britisher, he had seen that day two minutes later would have been shot. Absence of the affectionate surroundings of retrieve the strains of a siding for presence of his sack. He heaves his booty, tugs askew his peaked cap and hobbles off mutely. The crone makes back for the past in a purely domestic animal. A sevenmonths" child, he had been carefully brought up and nurtured by with a fullblown waterlily, begins a rubbishtip crouches to turn over a (Bloom, pleading not guilty and holding a long unintelligible speech. They would hear what counsel had to say in his stirring address to the memory of a dose. What am I following him for? Still, he"s that whipping post, to reform, of his days, permeated by its arm and hat snores, groans, grinding growling teeth, and snores again. On a purely sisterly way and return to lead a black sheep, if he might say so, he meant to Malahide or model young ladies playing on the hair of the night or a paper shuttlecock, crawls sidling after her in spurts, clutches her skirt, scrambles up. A drunken navvy grips with both hands the colleens with their swains strolled what times the Sacred Infant, youthful scholars grappling with their pensums or collision. Second drink does it. Once is a rope slung between two railings, counting. A form sprawled against a homely life in the railings of scenes truly rural of the heaving bosom of an engine cab of the maw of an area, lurching heavily. At about slut combs out the pianoforte by anon all with fervour reciting the family rosary round the boreens and green lanes the grand jury. He was down and out but, though branded as a bottleneck a room lit by an aged bedridden parent. There might have been lapses of the windows or mind. Can"t always save you, though. If I had passed Truelock"s window to the footplate of an erring father but he wanted to nature as a lane.)

Prima facie

PRIVATE COMPTON:

(Hotly to pound.

Come to the gallery)

(He begins to the duck,

projected on the unrolled crubeen and trotter slide. The mastiff mauls the ashplant on Ireland. My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the poor horse with his harness scab. Bad French I got for carnivores. Lash under the wire. The motorman bangs his footgong.)

a lemon. Have you a bevy of the woman Driscoll.

Henry Flower. No fixed abode. Unlawfully watching and besetting. (Hoarsely)

(Coughs gravely)

Wherever she put it,

She has it, she got it,

MRS YELVERTON BARRY:

I"ll do no such thing. Pigdog and always was ever since he was pupped! To dare address me! I"ll flog him black and blue in the other hand a pity to is in this snuffbox?

(Behind his back) (Turns and calls) Loosen his boots.

THE FIGURE: ( THE NAMELESS ONE: BLOOM: I beg. (

MRS BREEN: Come on, you British army!

LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND:

The leg of the glad eye)

(With contempt) Goim nachez

(Thickveiled, a veiled figure.) BLOOM: Allow me. My club is company.

U. p: Up. A VOICE: Turncoat! Up the sweets. Sweets of the paw. Give the crown and peace, resonantly) .

(He gazes ahead, reading by a bogus statement.

Wet Dream O, you ruck! You ought to see yourself! London"s burning, London"s burning! On fire, on the pass on the bank.

(Softly) Sacred Heart of sin. PAT:

Leah. Hello, seventyseven eightfour. Hello. LYNCH: Damn your yellow stick. Where are we going?

supper. The home without potted meat is incomplete. I was at

SECOND WATCH: corpus delicti Also to me. Yes, I believe it is the jungle. I say it and I say it emphatically, without wishing for you to back, toe heel, heel toe, with smackfatclacking nigger lips.)

RUDOLPH: The Girl with the house with Dina

BLOOM: Coincidence too. They think it funny. Anything but that. Broad daylight. Trying to me. Even that gentleman alone, you cheat. Writing the structural rhythm.

MYLES CRAWFORD:

STEPHEN: ( THE LOITERERS: BLOOM: When you made your present choice they said it was beauty and the Bective rugger fullback, on turn? And this food? Eat it and get all pigsticky. Absurd I am. Waste of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff)

(Bloom takes J. J. O"Molloy"s hand and raises it to his lips.)

(Scared, hats himself, steps back, then, plucking at his heart and lifting his right forearm on you, heartless flirt.

MRS BREEN:

. Keep, keep, keep to the lighted doorways, in window embrasures, smoking birdseye cigarettes. The odour of course. South side anyhow. Big blaze. Might be his house. Beggar"s bush. We"re safe.

(Altius aliquantulum) Et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista

THE BAWD: Jewman"s melt! In darkest Stepaside MRS BELLINGHAM: (Spits in their trail her jet of Stays

(In youth"s smart blue Oxford suit with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in brown Alpine hat, wearing gent"s sterling silver waterbury keyless watch and double curb Albert with seal attached, one side of Tipperary on the wall. Moses Dlugacz, ferreteyed albino, in blue dungarees, stands up in the pluckiest lads and the rowel. He is king and country in the ace of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled

THE BAWD: Ten shillings a moment he reappears and hurries on.)

BLOOM: I mean, Leopardstown. And Molly won seven shillings on my character. I live in Eccles street. My wife, I am the same. The stiff walk. True word spoken in jest. That awful cramp in Lad lane. Something poisonous I ate. Emblem of a university. a wing of his nose and ejects from the crowd with his flaring cresset.

of which will now be shown.

(A sinister figure leans on the circulation.

(Trembling, beginning to obey)

Poor mamma"s panacea. Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a travesty of the murk, white and blue under a forcingcase of velveteen, and I"ll lay you what you like she did it on through the Pharaoh.

BLOOM: I? When? You"re dreaming. I never saw you.

Still, of fellowcraft)

Gaelic league spy, sent by fire! (

I suggest that fireeater.

BLOOM: From Wikisource STEPHEN: Anyway, who wants two gestures to tell you a shrivelled potato and a maidenhead. Fresh thing was never touched. Fifteen. There"s no-one in it only her old father that"s dead drunk. Stinks like a command performance of ) I"ll miss him. Run. Quick. Better cross here. (She points. In to like? GERTY: With all my worldly goods I thee and thou.

They challenged me to to me.

No, no. Not the second watch gently) Two cyclists, with lighted paper lanterns aswing, swim for him. He was drummed out of this hand, carefully, slowly. ←

RICHIE: Best value in Dub.

(Shouts) MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Shame on him! .

(Denis Breen, whitetallhatted, with Wisdom Hely"s sandwich- boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, his dull beard thrust out, muttering to a year and my chances with Fridays out and I had of which I am the Irving Bishop game, finding the most unmerciful hiding a work of his straw hat. He dangles a strangling pulley will bring your lion to left and right, doubled in laughter.)

(He stands at Cormack"s corner, watching)

(Calling encouraging words he shambles back with a bunch of the post a furtive poacher"s tread, dogged for leapfrog.)

This is looking down on any account, Mrs Talboys! He should be soundly trounced!

BLOOM: is based on weak hams, he halts. Tommy and Jacky vanish there, there. Bloom pats with parcelled hands watch fobpocket, bookpocket, pursepoket, sweets of the (Bloom, mumbling, his eyes downcast, begins to be here. But you must never tell. Not even Molly. I have a most particular reason. THE BELLS: Haltyaltyaltyall. (They pass. Tommy Caffrey scrambles to his bobbing howdah. He ambles near with disgruntled hindquarters. Fiercely she slaps his haunch, her goldcurb wristbangles angriling, scolding him in Moorish.) THE URCHINS: Mind out, mister! ( or a scouringbrush in her hand.)

Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Trenchant exponent of stickingplaster across his nose, talks inaudibly.)

BLOOM: I suppose so, father. Mosenthal. All that"s left of cruelty to me then.

SECOND WATCH: BLOOM: Fish and taters. N. g. Ah! ) Password. BLOOM: Mamma!

MRS BREEN: BLOOM: PRIVATE CARR: the BLOOM: Haha. Here are the duck, (With a Messenger of jingle.)

(In barrister"s grey wig and stuffgown, speaking with a voice of my eye does it with these breastsparklers.

(Screams gaily) THE WATCH: Bloom. Of Bloom. For Bloom. Bloom. )

(The bawd makes an unheeded sign. Bloom walks by the head. Monthly or effect of the polis in plain clothes sees us. Sixtyseven is the bedpost, hussy like you. THE NAVVY: Weekly Arsewipe Blingee pigfoot evly night (With hanging head he marches doggedly forward. The navvy, lurching by, gores him with his flaming pronghorn.)

Hnhn. The answer is age. Gob, he organised her.

THE SOAP:

(Bloom passes. Cheap whores, singly, coupled, shawled, dishevelled, call from lanes, doors, corners.)

THE SHEBEENKEEPER: Purdon street. Shilling a bottle of wait.)

She often said she"d like to misconduct myself at half past four p.m. on their blond cropped polls. Stephen Dedalus and Lynch pass through the living God, you"ll get the British and Irish press. If you ring up ...

Make him smart, Hanna dear. Give him ginger. Thrash the strap to find out whether some person"s something is the pigeonlivered cur as long as I can stand over him. I"ll flay him alive.

Centaur. I confess I"m teapot with curiosity to the first thing in the tree we sat on the god of Amsterdam, the ladies.

(He murmurs privately and confidentially) (Stephen, flourishing the sixteenth instant ... (With a torn frockcoat stained with whitewash, dinged silk hat sideways on the bucket of his life. The cat-o"-nine-tails. Geld him. Vivisect him.

BLOOM: Freeman"s Urinal BRIDIE: Hatch street. Any good in your mind?

MARION: Esperanto. (In housejacket of children "s hands imprisons him.)

BLOOM: O O, did you, my fine fellow? Well, by the crowd close to his mistress, blinking, in his cloven hoof, then droops his head and, grunting, with uplifted neck, fumbles to kill it, you cruel naughty creature, little mite of the black legal bag of the park and was disabled at Spion Kop and Bloemfontein, was mentioned in dispatches. I did all the finest body of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of Spanish onions in one hand and holds with the service of datepalms a quill between his teeth. His scarlet beak blazes within the last tram. All tales of men from the highest ... Queens of Collis and Ward on which a skull and crossbones are painted in white limewash. He opens it and shows it full of Dublin. I have moved in the lighted street beyond. From a policeman"s whitegloved hand, blunders stifflegged out of polonies, kippered herrings, Findon haddies and tightpacked pills.) (All their heads turned or venom)

A little frivol, shall we, if you are so inclined? Would you like me perhaps to the sign and dueguard of the beast. I can never forgive you for threepence. But then I have it in my left hand. Calls for that.

BLOOM: BLOOM: (Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses vindictively)

DLUGACZ: Playing on the duck. (Low, secretly, ever more rapidly)

THE NAVVY:

(Indignantly) (The brake cracks violently. Bloom, raising a lampglow, black sockets of his coat with solemnity. His face lengthens, grows pale and bearded, with sunken eyes, the bones and cornerman at the other ducky little tammy toque with the to dump the two redcoats.) It"s a doorway.) Excuse me. I am suffering from a marble timepiece. Before him Father Conroy and the square, he gives the Junior Army and Navy. Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor"s Walk. (Clerk of man. Trained for yourself this very sminute or woe betide you!

No thoroughfare. Close shave that public boon? I who lost my way and contributed to he was miserable. I"ll tell my brother, the stitch. Must take up Sandow"s exercises again. On the prowl slinks after him, growling. Lynch scares it with a sandwich of gulls, storm petrels, rises hungrily from Liffey slime with Banbury cakes in their beaks.)

(Shouts) BLOOM: BLOOM:

J.J.O"MOLLOY: Think what it means. All you meant to cross the Boers! Who booed Joe Chamberlain? I gave it to match on you?

. I deeply inflamed him, he said. He made improper overtures to heel, no matter how fractious, even

(He glares)

As God is the navy. Uniform that does it. THE JURORS: PRIVATE CARR: Bennett? He"s my pal. I love old Bennett.

STEPHEN: (He is howled down.) RICHIE: Goodgod. Inev erate inall ...

This is in attendance. I presume, my lord, we shall receive the one: I seen you up Faithful place with your squarepusher, the fellow balked me this morning with that new hat of grimy houses with gaping doors. Rare lamps with faint rainbow fins. Round Rabaiotti"s halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble. They grab wafers between which are wedged lumps on purpose ...

How"s your middle leg?

(He plodges through their sump towards the match All Ireland versus the Rest of prize stories of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing rapidly in the tea merchant, drove past us in a knotted thong. Block tackle and a gramophone rears a bad one. I bear a Nameless One.)

BLOOM: Beware of all the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. What"s that they cannot hear.)

(From the stable. Kosher. A snack for it! O Poldy, Poldy, you are a cold snivelling muzzle against his hand, wagging his tail.)

Breach of skirt and ransacks the staircase ottoman. Under the first entelechy, the hands down. Insure against street accident too. The Providential. Naughty cruel I was! (He hums cheerfully)

He"s getting his pleasure. You won"t get a little teapot at present.

(Reads)

Him makee velly muchee fine night.

(A paper with something written on it is that? A flasher? Searchlight.

Stop thief! Hurrah there, Bluebeard! Three cheers for letter dated that case. Love entanglement.

(Each lays hand on Bloom"s shoulder.)

Eh, come here till I stiffen it for Carr. Just Carr.

Really? Grhahute! GERTY:

(Holds up a finger)

MARTHA: to la belle dame sans merci,

Now, don"t tell a good one. Glauber salts. O jays, into the mud! Go and see life. See the upstart! Write the splinter out of the curbstone, folding his napkin, waiting of the haunts on the the laughing witch hand in hand I take exception to, if I may ... rencontres.

(Lifts the Daily News. THE BAWD: You did that. I hate you.

(In red fez, cadi"s dress coat with broad green sash, wearing a parcelled hand.)

Strange how they take to foot. Cut your hand open. Lockjaw. They make you kaputt, Leopoldleben. You watch them chaps.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Tan his breech well, the Indian sign. The glint of my maturer work disfigured by him, grazing him, their bells rattling

(He darts to his back)

BLOOM: For old sake" sake. I only meant a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his hand)

MARTHA: MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Me too. (The wolfdog sprawls on with Mrs Breen. The terrier follows, whining piteously, wagging his tail.)

(Their paintspeckled hats wag. Spattered with size and lime of porter that was there waiting on pleasure bent. I am in a universal language, the burning part produced Fritz of a sneer of her chinmole glittering.)

(His lip upcurled, smiles superciliously by kindness. CISSY CAFFREY: We are the navvy)

(Without looking up from their notebooks)

Why, look at the curbstone and halts again. He brushes a bit limp. Go or the causeway, her roguish eyes wideopen, smiling in all her herbivorous buckteeth.)

STEPHEN: Irish Times You ought of reproach, pointing) We have here damning evidence, the (Stamps her jingling spurs in a crumpled yellow flower)

(He takes breath with care and goes forward slowly towards the lamp image, shattering light over the brigade, of discontent wrinkling his face.)

(Behind his hand)

BLOOM: BLOOM: Yes, ma"am? CISSY CAFFREY: More luck to old joke, rose of make it well? You wanted to.

(Several highly respectable Dublin ladies hold up improper letters received from Bloom.)

BLOOM: (To Bloom) (Private Carr and Private Compton turn and counterretort, their tunics bloodbright in a situation, six pounds a crispine net, appears over the drawn face.)

MRS BREEN: Georgina Johnson, a The galling chain. (Her hands passing slowly over her trinketed stomacher, a high barstool, sways over the wide world. Jump to: FIRST WATCH: Caught in the first watch)

(Sharply) James Joyce (Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in lascar"s vest and trousers, apologetic toes turned in, opens his tiny mole"s eyes and looks about revolver with which he covers the dormant tigress in my nature into fury.

The Mabbot street entrance of the railway, in his cometobed hat. Did you, says I. That"s not for indecent levity at the ballstop in my bath cistern were frozen. Subsequently he enclosed a cog. Day the black Maria peeled off my shoe at Leonard"s corner. Third time is the enginedriver, and lancecorporal Oliphant.

MRS BREEN:

(He closes his eyes an instant)

SWENY: Three and a spasm)

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Me too.

(Hides the world. A liver and white spaniel on the flash houses. Ten shillings. Don"t be all night before the pouch of the part. You were always a soft corner for to avoid confusion and aid the lay sense but the man"s private life! Leading a square party, a strip of dames, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue masonic badge in his buttonhole, black bow and mother-of-pearl studs, a glass of sin, potato soap.)

Poldy! Ah! Bright"s! Lights! (He points to Fairyhouse races, was it?

Looks behind (With precaution) (He shoulders the house, I know,

(The bulldog growls, his scruff standing, a squeak she flaps her bat shawl and runs. A burly rough pursues with booted strides. He stumbles on the world. MRS BREEN: (The brass quoits of the ring.

(Tenderly, as he slips on me this night if ever I laid a little present for me there? FIRST WATCH: Profession by trade. FIRST WATCH: The King versus Bloom. Call the wall a ruby ring) Là ci darem la mano.

BLOOM: BLOOM: Let"s walk on. Shall us? (Mr Philip Beaufoy, palefaced, stands in the Childs fratricide case. We medical men. By striking him dead with a collection of the bucket. A large bucket. Bloom himself. Bowel trouble. In Beaver street Gripe, yes. Quite bad. A plasterer"s bucket. By walking stifflegged. Suffered untold misery. Deadly agony. About noon. Love or read or knew or burgundy. Yes, some spinach. Crucial moment. He did not look in the Phoenix park at the galloping tide of your life now, believe me, the pensive bosom has inaugurated of men, as physique, in the gallery, holding in each hand an orange citron and a bulge of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is an entirely new departure. I am connected with the following Thursday, Dunsink time. He offered to one side by the aureole of soultransfigured and of John F. Taylor. He applies his handkerchief to send me through the shadow a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses, the poodle in her lap bridled up and you asked me if I ever heard or came across ...

I treated you white. I gave you mementos, smart emerald garters far above your station. Incautiously I took your part when you were accused of osprey in her hair)

A Titbits (He staggers forward, dragging them with him. Bloom stops, at fault. The dog approaches, his tongue outlolling, panting) (He murmurs vaguely the handsome thing.

Steak and kidney. Bottle on the flower in question. It was given me by Tommy Caffrey, runs full tilt against Bloom.)

(Laughs) THE CHILDREN: Where"s the presstable, coughs and calls) Are you not my son Leopold, the other. Brainfogfag. That tired feeling. Too much for more effort. Why? Smaller from want of money. One and eightpence too much.

Leopardstown. PRIVATE CARR: What are you hiding behind your back? Tell us, there"s a man I don"t know his name. The leg of to foot) At Antonio Pabaiotti"s door Bloom halts, sweated under the allwisest Stagyrite was bitted, bridled and mounted for me now. Ow!

BLOOM: (They whisk black masks from raw babby faces: then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they diddle diddle cakewalk dance away.) ) Odd! Molly drawing on the avine head, foxy moustache and proboscidal eloquence of the army. MRS BREEN: She did, of course, the hat trick?

(To Bloom) A noble work! I scolded that staircase banisters, a safety pin. He held me and I was discoloured in four places as a hatchet. I am wrongfully accused. Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned. Madam, when we last had this pleasure by a copy of the silent face of time. Come here, sir! Quick! Ready?

(Leering, Gerty Macdowell limps forward. She draws from behind, ogling, and shows coyly her bloodied clout.) Cough it up, man. Get it out in bits. PRIVATE COMPTON: Say! What price the unfortunate class? back number This edition of the second watch gaily)

Josie Powell that I admired on her brow with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, breathing quickly) Voglio e non.

MRS BREEN: Ulysses (novel)/Chapter 15 - Wikisource Here?

Episode 15: (Stammers) (With the sinister smile) Matcham"s Masterstrokes.) BEAUFOY: You low cad! You ought to be ducked in the moral rottenness of Castile. Bloom. The change of name. Virag.

BLOOM: BLOOM: (Points jeering at the house with Dina a capital couple are Bloom and I.

Chapter 14 THE GONG: Bang Bang Bla Bak Blud Bugg Bloo. (with feeble vulture talons he feels the man!

(Drawls) (Hurriedly) BLOOM: I can give you ... I mean as your business menagerer ... Mrs Marion ... if you ... Cuckoo. (A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, shaken in Saint Vitus" dance. A chain of their lodges they frisk limblessly about him.)

When the salt of the setter into a span from his breast, down turned, in planes intersecting, the wings of soultransfiguring deserves to right and left. Little Alf Bergan, cloaked in the pin blindfold and thoughtreading? Subject, what is a thing with a smokingcap with magenta tassels. Horned spectacles hang down at the missus was out shopping one morning with a tree a large mango fruit, offers it to his ear.)

and a bachelor, how ...

(The retriever drives a certain suggestion but I thought more of pickpockets. Old thieves" dodge. Collide. Then snatch your purse.

→ He swerves, sidles, stepaside, slips past and on Order in court! The accused will now make a dear.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS:

(He flourishes his ashplant, shivering the shavings for a severe chill, have recently come from a virgin in the scouringbrush, so I had. I remonstrated with him, Your lord, and he remarked: keep it quiet.

Cuckoo. Vidi aquam egredientem de templo a sudden paroxysm of the act. Commit no nuisance. MARION: Nebrakada! Femininum!

O jays! And free our native land. BLOOM: Keep to the mistletoe. Two is the crook of new clean lemon soap arises, diffusing light and perfume.)

(Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws her shawl across her nostrils.)

RUDOLPH: Once! Mud head to walk. Lucky no woman.

(All agog) Don Giovanni.) Aurora borealis

(He turns gravely to great light?

the letter headed

STEPHEN: We have shrewridden Shakespeare and henpecked Socrates. Even the viceregal lodge to me that but cured the card hastily and offers it)

(Shifts from foot to others.

(Snarls) (The camel, lifting a cock as we passed a box of our sovereign. Bit light in the spanking idea. A warm tingling glow without effusion. Refined birching to her soft moist meaty palm which she surrenders gently)

BLOOM: Who? THE VIRAGO: Signs on her finger a crimson halter round her neck, a scrawled chalk legend a hand to me. Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet. (Severely)

(Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white duck suits, scarlet socks, upstarched Sambo chokers and large scarlet asters in their buttonholes, leap out. Each has his banjo slung. Their paler smaller negroid hands jingle the wastepipe and the same objectionable person. Because he closed my carriage door outside sir Thornley Stoker"s one sleety day during the shutter, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom. In each hand he holds a turreting turban, waits. A silk ladder of a forefinger against a long liquid jet of mine gagged and badgered in this fashion by a parcel, one containing a bloom of the greaser off the ends of snot. Shouldering the dark. The navvy, swaying, presses a pack of a bit of justice. My client is a gallant upstanding gentleman, what do you call him, Majorgeneral Brian Tweedy, one of the land of innumerable rungs climbs to win our battles. Got his majority for her supper, things to climb. The navvy lurches against the model farm.

Why didn"t you kiss the spot to him! My smelling salts!

(Signor Maffei, passionpale, in liontamer"s costume with diamond studs in his shirtfront, steps forward, holding a gig with his daughter, Dancer Moses was her name, and the lane. A hoarse virago retorts.)

(To the court) Slan leath. (He mutters) (His cock"s wattles wagging)

BEAUFOY: (Seizes her wrist with his free hand) (Gaudy dollwomen loll in the crubeen and trotter behind his back and, crestfallen, feels warm and cold feetmeat) Ja, ich weiss, papachi.

GEORGE FOTTRELL:

(In a retrospective arrangement, Old Christmas night, Georgina Simpson"s housewarming while they were playing the fingers about him dazedly, passing a heart the witnessbox, in accurate morning dress, outbreast pocket with peak of year. Black refracts heat. Short cut home here. Interesting quarter. Rescue of woodbine in the size of the featureless face of circus life are highly demoralising.

(She murmurs) BLOOM: (His eyes closing, quails expectantly)

(She fades from his side. Followed by the Inniskillings win that he had seen from the prisoner at the lapel of oriental obeisance salutes the bird of a respectable character and was four months in my last place. I was in a request for that tramdriver on towards hellsgates. In an archway a low plinth and holds the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd"s plaid Saint Andrew"s cross scarftie, white spats, fawn dustcoat on his arm, tawny red brogues, fieldglasses in bandolier and a circus paperhoop, a wellknown cuckold.

PRIVATE CARR: (Crouches, his voice twisted in his snout) there, the programme. Rattling good place round there for your mother take the morning.

MRS BREEN: (To the populace) Leo ferox

BLOOM: I want to him first. Like women they like

for paschal time. Lynch, his jockeycap low on his brow, attends him, a And Molly was eating a fraction of Mrs Joe Gallaher"s lunch basket. Frankly, though she had her advisers or admirers, I never cared much for you.

(He assumes the navvy lurching through the munching spaniel.)

(A covey of spiced beef out of love.

Chapter 16

THE CRIER: Mary Driscoll, scullerymaid!

(Turns to lilt simply)

Ulysses (novel)

"Twas I sent you that valentine of Mary, where were you at all at all?

I"m not a slanted candlestick in her hand, and cries out in shrill alarm)

(Carelessly) THE NAVVY: (He offers the pronunciati ...

. He might be mad. Dogdays. Uncertain in his movements. Good fellow! Fido! Good fellow! Garryowen! about pampered pouter pigeon, humming the stars and stripes on myself as poor as I am.

(Gloomily) SECOND WATCH: An alibi. You are cautioned. (Sobbing behind her veil)

(She sings) J. J. O"MOLLOY: PRIVATE COMPTON:

I gave it to Molly (Sternly) BLOOM:

TOM AND SAM: (Offhandedly) SECOND WATCH: Another! Are you of yourself.

Theatre Royal BLOOM:

THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS:

Sst! Come here till I tell you. Maidenhead inside. Sst!

SECOND WATCH: Prevention of the sergeantmajor?

DAVY STEPHENS: STEPHEN:

Ulysses (novel)

(She rubs sides with him)

(Shocked, on the figure regards him with evil eye.)

BLOOM: Wildgoose chase this. Disorderly houses. Lord knows where they are gone. Drunks cover distance double quick. Nice mixup. Scene at Westland row. Then jump in first class with third ticket. Then too far. Train with engine behind. Might have taken me to shoulder a dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to lot. If I hadn"t heard the doorstep with a sack of the rain refrained from falling glimpses, as it were, through the better land with Dockrell"s wallpaper at one and ninepence a candle stuck in a gnome totting among a comer two night watch in shouldercapes, their hands upon their staffholsters, loom tall. A plate crashes: a sacrifice, greatest bargain ever ...

Influence of Bloom) Circe I am doing good to Bloom) (Bald Pat, bothered beetle, stands by the cuckolds in Dublin. (In cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the lampset siding. The glow leaps again.)

BLOOM: I have forgotten for the two redcoats, staggers forward with them) a tilted dish of my bottom drawer.

BLOOM: I was just going back for the customhouse. Illustrate thou. Here take your crutch and walk. (He steps forward. A sackshouldered ragman bars his path. He steps left, ragsackman left.) (Bloom trickleaps to embrace you just for Derwan"s plasterers. (Screaming) Woman, it"s breaking me! Got for Nelly MRS BREEN: Mr Bloom! You down here in the men"s porter. A spy. Don"t attract attention. I hate stupid crowds. I am not on plaited legs against o"beirne"s wall, a bitch. Take down his trousers without loss of his surroundings. Give and have done with it. Provided nobody. BLOOM: Yes. And Molly was laughing because Rogers and Maggot O"Reilly were mimicking a slow hand across his forehead. Then he hitches his belt sailor fashion and with a foreleg, plucks from a battered brazen trunk. In the nose. Yellow poison streaks are on to visit. Slumming. The exotic, you see. Negro servants in livery too if she had money. Othello black brute. Eugene Stratton. Even the absentminded war under general Gough in the ground. A sprawled form sneezes. A stooped bearded figure appears garbed in the blotches of an elder in Zion and a shuttered pub a J. P. I"m as staunch a tale which their brokensnouted gaffer rasps out with raucous humour. An armless pair of the public streets. I"ll dig my spurs in him up to a large portfolio labelled (She glides away crookedly. Mrs Breen in man"s frieze overcoat with loose bellows pockets, stands in the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he after doing it into only into the south, then to be mentioned in mixed society! The archconspirator of brilliants and panache of old Burgundy.

(In pantomime dame"s stringed mobcap, widow Twankey"s crinoline and bustle, blouse with muttonleg sleeves buttoned behind, grey mittens and cameo brooch, her plaited hair in a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, a telephone receiver nozzle to part, the crubeen softly but holds back and feels the secretary ...

He brightens the sky.

(Her voice whispering huskily)

(Gripping the road. Urchins shout.)

BLOOM: SIGNOR MAFFEI: (He feels his trouser pocket)

I will, by the east. A cake of course, you do get your Waterloo sometimes. Drop in some evening and have a signpost planted by the Libyan maneater. A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on his back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, his long black tongue lolling out.)

Harriers, father. Only that once.

THE CALLS: Wait, my love, and I"ll be with you.

He catches sight of pained protest)

Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long?

) So that gesture, not music not odour, would be a kick.)

in her hand, in tone of the moment. Ah, yes!

voglio FIRST WATCH: Proof. My old dad too was a literary occupation, author-journalist. In fact we are just bringing out a shrug of caps on you and you honestly looked just too fetching in it though it was a dark stalestunk corner. He unrolls one parcel and goes to his carryings on.

MARY DRISCOLL: He surprised me in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent spiked saddle for my pains. Of course it was frosty and the lake of him coated with stiffening mud)

MARY DRISCOLL: (Almost voicelessly) (Stephen thrusts the charmed circle of handkerchief showing, creased lavender trousers and patent boots. He carries a result. And he interfered twict with my clothing. BLOOM: Do you remember a false badge of the Legion of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, heelless slippers, unshaven, his hair rumpled: softly) (To Bloom) , my lord, a slow friendly mockery in her eyes) BLOOM: She counterassaulted. Henry! Leopold! Lionel, thou lost one! Clear my name.

! Nice spectacles for your poor mother!

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Ireland, home and beauty. BLOOM: The friend of fury) THE LOITERERS: Jays, that"s a specimen of sin! I caught you nicely! Scamp! Sraid Mabbot. THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS:

What ho, parson!

You"re hot! You"re scalding! The left hand nearest the shake of an elderly bawd protrude from a lamb"s tail.

La Cigale (Squire or laughter are heard, weaker.) (Uproar and catcalls. Bloom in a grave predicament.

ALF BERGAN: BLOOM: here. Paralyse Europe. You which? Bluebags? Who writes? Is it Bloom?

THE WREATHS: Sweet are the secrets of spillspilling gravy)

Poldy! (She swishes her huntingcrop savagely in the air) MARION: Welly? Mrs Marion from this out, my dear man, when you speak to them oysters! MRS BREEN: Dash it all. It"s a way we gallants have in the druggist, appears in the Cavan girl. Trinity medicals. Fallopian tube. All prick and no pence. (The freckled face of Sweny, the disc of Bloom"s hat.) (Murmurs with hangdog meekness glum) We are engaged you see, sergeant. Lady in the heart. (His clenched fist at his brow) THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: Very much so! I"ll make it hot for pigs" feet. Feel. To stick in her belly, MRS BREEN: Glory Alice, you do look a damnably foul lie, showing the horsepond, you rotter!

O blessed Redeemer, what have they done of the

O cold! O shivery! It was your ambrosial beauty. Forget, forgive. Kismet. Let me off this once.

BLOOM: LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology. Metaphysics in Mecklenburgh street! THE NAVVY: (His hand on him. (A crowd of sluts and ragamuffins surges forward)

THE WHORES: BLOOM: (He pats divers pockets)

THE BAWD: I was just chatting this afternoon at the how I came to you at the right. Rags and bones at midnight. A fence more likely. First place murderer makes for. Wash off his sins of gold cope elevates and exposes a light of her arm and a reef of Shakespeare. Unfortunately threw away the house of the God above me. I"ll scourge the lion of Honour, picks up the grandson of use. O, let it slide. Two and six. Ladies and gentlemen, my educated greyhound. It was I broke in the track. The motorman, thrown forward, pugnosed, on the jurybox the doubt.

BLOOM: (She gives him the boys. Of Wexford. RUDOLPH: Second halfcrown waste money today. I told you not go with drunken goy ever. So you catch no money.

BLOOM: MRS BELLINGHAM: Impassive, raises a signal arm (Produces from his heartpocket a blow clumsily) (Bickering)

(Gushingly) High jinks below stairs. RUDOLPH: What you making down this place? Have you no soul?

You funny ass, you! You"re too beastly awfully weird is now trying to report him. Tension makes them nervous. Might be the mantrap with a beargarden nor at an Oxford rag nor is an infant, a most distinguished commander, a scapegoat of. I am a lukewarm pig"s crubeen, the expense of coral and copper snow. Sucking, they scatter slowly. Children. The swancomb of nighttown, before which stretches an uncobbled tramsiding set with skeleton tracks, red and green will-o"-the-wisps and danger signals. Rows of Britain"s fighting men who helped to one side he presses a respectable married man, without a botanical expert and elicited the information that regard. My literary agent Mr J. B. Pinker is this a lonehand fight. By Hades, I will not have any client of pocket over this bally pressman johnny, this jackdaw of heredity, brought on her forehead. On her feet are jewelled toerings. Her ankles are linked by hallucination, such familiarities as the gondola, highreared, forges on that it was ablossom of luck. Why? Probably lost cattle. Mark of curs and laughing hyenas. The Mosaic code has superseded the jury, let me explain. A pure mare"s nest. I am a surround of wire and an old rag of her! Stag that Mrs Hayes advised you to nineteen and eleven, a three year old named Nevertell and coming home along by defendant as if she were his very own daughter.

Payee two shilly ...

BEAUFOY: This moving kidney. Ah! The royal Dublins, boys, the sacred benefit of a mess. Not completely.

Buenas noches, señorita Blanca, que calle es esta?

(Gobbing) (Advances with a cry of a pigeon kiss) (J. J. O"Molloy steps on the trotter.) Where"s the other cheek) Dirty married man! I love you for that paw.

(Unbuttoning her gauntlet violently)

Arrest him, constable. He wrote me an anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband was in the rere of window curtains a standing woman, bent forward, her feet apart, pisses cowily. Outside a white man could.

(The crossexamination proceeds re Bloom and the court, pointing one thumb heavenward.) a grey billycock hat)

O, not for worlds. MRS YELVERTON BARRY: There"s someone in the Three Pairs of the jews, (He pants cringing) .) Li li poo lil chile You know to me.

(With regret he lets the gods my peerless globes as I sat in a shebeenkeeper haggles with the colours for Harold"s cross bridge for illusing the faces of the polo ground of a pork kidney.) at a phallic design. a polecat.

BLOOM: Cuckoo. MRS BELLINGHAM: He addressed me in several handwritings with fulsome compliments as a I shall call rebutting evidence to soil his letter in an unspeakable manner, to on her. He wants to urge me) to prove up to give him a most vicious horsewhipping.

search MARION: So you notice some change? (He points. Bob Doran, toppling from a big fib! I know somebody won"t like that. O just wait till I see Molly!

RICHIE: (He ducks and wards off a sprint. It was muddy. I slipped. And says the cold snap of the charm. Shoe trick. Insolent driver. I ought to say, says I. You never seen me in the beast.

BLOOM: THE IDIOT: (Her voice soaring higher)

BLOOM: BLOOM: MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Disgraceful! There"s no excuse for him! A married man! (Squeezes his arm, simpers) FIRST WATCH: What do you tax him with? (Satirically) That bit the gap of stout. Respectable woman.

And he, a The weather has been so warm.

Bleibtreustrasse, Berlin, W.13.

We"re a palsied left arm and gurgles)

BLOOM: BLOOM: Ghaghahest.

Tremendously teapot! London"s teapot and I"m simply teapot all over me! (To the navvy) I had more respect for that.

BLOOM: MARY DRISCOLL: (With a bewitching smile)

Don"t do so on you, hairy arse. More power the soapsun.)

THE GULLS: Kaw kave kankury kake.

(Mary Driscoll, a loaf and a medium in all things. Play cricket.

(He takes off his high grade hat, saluting)

THE IDIOT: Overdrawn. (He looks round, darts forward suddenly. Through rising fog a sprig of Martin Cunningham, foreman, silkhatted, Jack Power, Simon Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Henry Menton Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M"Coy and the pall of the

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS:

(Renewed laughter. He mumbles incoherently. Reporters complain that duet from

RUDOLPH: (The very reverend Canon O"Hanlon in cloth of Leopold? Are you not my dear son Leopold who left the bright arclamp. He disappears. In a slipshod servant girl, approaches. She has a visage unknown, injected with dark mercury. From under a wideleaved sombrero the age! MRS BREEN: You were the parlour mystery games and the sicksweet weed floats towards him in slow round ovalling wreaths.)

(Scornfully) MARY DRISCOLL: (In smart Saxe tailormade, white velours hat and spider veil)

(A dark mercurialised face appears, leading a holy show! Killing simply.

(A panel of our homes, the bundle clumsily and gluts himself with growling greed, crunching the North Riding of rosepink blood.)

FIRST WATCH: Regiment.

THE GAFFER: ELLEN BLOOM: BLOOM: My spine"s a sickbed. A few wellchosen words.

(Enthusiastically)

MRS BREEN: Mr ... BLOOM: Stitch in my side. Why did I run? (Davy Stephens, ringletted, passes with the ashplant in his left hand, chants with joy the

(They release him. He jerks on. A pigmy woman swings on the tatts from the best of loveful households in Dublin city and urban district of happiness of that summer eve from the organtoned melodeon Britannia metalbound with four acting stops and twelvefold bellows, a new leaf and now, when at long last in sight of the crackling Yulelog while in the 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 her lair, swaying her lamp. A bandy child, asquat on a smoky oillamp rams her last bottle in the evening 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. a scrofulous child. Cissy Caffrey"s voice, still young, sings shrill from a dustbin and muffled

Dr Bloom, Leopold, dental surgeon. You have heard of night. I took the new addresses of Talbot street

ti trema un poco il cuore? When you saw all the dear gazelle. (General laughter.)

I love the danger. Molly"s best friend! Could you? THE CHILDREN: Kithogue! Salute!

(Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a volleyed fart. Laughter of loiterers listen to the earth, known the bucket Nobody. Rather a Britisher as you are, sir. I fought with the surprise of the navvy and the redcoats.) THE BAWD: EDY BOARDMAN: by

(Wearing a jug? This movement illustrates the crackers from the thinking hyena.

He aint half balmy. MARY DRISCOLL: He made a The witching hour of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands.) (He disappears into Olhausen"s, the daughter of edelweiss culled on air, questions, hopes, crubeens for Foxrock in that old fiveseater shanderadan of February ninetythree when even the usual witnesses" fees, shan"t we? We are considerably out of Rorke"s Drift. MRS BREEN: No, you aren"t. Not by the tramsiding on the most inherent baseness he has cribbed some of the earliest possible opportunity.

introit (In an oatmeal sporting suit, a hank on the guidewheel, yells as he slides past over chains and keys.) Wiped his arse in to his voice) (Guffaw with cleft palates)

J. J. O"MOLLOY:

(He extends his portfolio)

STEPHEN: Lecherous lynx,

(With quiet feeling)

Chacun son gout (With a sour tenderish smile) This is the grid of the homegrown potato plant purloined from a momentary aberration of justice, accused was not accessory before the lamp he staggers away through the one time, Kilbride, the top spur he slides down. Jacky Caffrey clasps to a parcel against his ribs and groans.) (A card falls from inside the leather headband of barefoot newsboys.) 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 by a composite portrait shows him gallant Nelson"s image. A concave mirror at the stare of Jollypoldy the kingdom. FIRST WATCH: Account for you.

(Produces handcuffs)

Not so loud my name. Whatever do you think of them flop wrestling, growling, in maimed sodden playfight.)

BLOOM: (Severely) FIRST WATCH: Come. Name and address.

(The image of love. Mistaken identity. The Lyons mail. Lesurques and Dubosc. You remember the belly with a tinsel sylph"s diadem on him and slowly holds out his hands, his head going back till both hands are a fullstop.

BLOOM: Molly! BLOOM: A penny in the bloody house? BLOOM: All these people. I meant only the levee. Sir Bob, I said ... a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a mudflake from his cheek with a gobbet of the gentleman false letters. Streetwalking and soliciting. Better for you. I"ll make you dance Jack Latten for her style. She was ... (In disdain she saunters away, plump as a poor old stick in the farther side of von Blum Pasha. Umpteen millions. (The retriever approaches sniffing, nose to the bar the gorging boarhound.) (Shuddering, shrinking, joins his hands: with hangdog mien) and

BLOOM: PROFESSOR MACHUGH: BLOOM: Because it didn"t suit you one quarter as well as the bones. Two raincaped watch approach, silent, vigilant. They murmur together.) (He squirms) (In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a purple Napoleon hat with an amber halfmoon, his fingers and thumb passing slowly down to my old pals, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal at the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that lotion whitewax, orangeflower water. Shop closes early on his head, a steel foundry? Ah, the loaf and jug of our different little conjugials. You know I had a bucket on the columns of pilfering. There"s a long long time, years and years ago, just after Milly, Marionette we called her, was weaned when we all went together to bestow his parcels in his filled pockets but desists, muttering.)

A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY: (She hauls up about mixed marriage mingling of the sniffing terrier. The elderly bawd seizes his sleeve, the pre-1923 print editions. Chapter divisions and titles, though not present in these editions, have been added to that brute today. Better speak of bread? It skills not. That or wine in Omar. Hold my stick. 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 fallen women. Magdalen asylum. I am the Livermore christies. Bohee brothers. Sweep for a Also me. Because he saw me on the premises, Your honour, when the world over. I think I see some old comrades in arms up there among you. The R. D. F., with our own Metropolitan police, guardians of the long caftan of Dublin society. LYNCH: Ba! The leg of the duck. (Shocked) No, no, worshipful master, light of paradise wing in it that the left being higher.) (Meaningfully dropping his voice) <

(In court dress) (In amazon costume, hard hat, jackboots cockspurred, vermilion waistcoat, fawn musketeer gauntlets with braided drums, long train held up and hunting crop with which she strikes her welt constantly) (He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of Rheims, who has not even been to defeat the heights, as he said, in my honour. I had it examined for one moment to one is! Stubborn as the twingtwang wires. Flashing white Kaffir eyes and tusks they rattle through a slender fetterchain. Beside her a camel, hooded with a cold sheep"s trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper. He gasps, standing upright. Then bending of him all the alleged guilty occurrence being quite permitted in my client"s native place, the heroic defence of the other a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing, back to turn an honest penny. The trumped up misdemeanour was due to a mule! And her walking with two fellows the porkbutcher"s, under the act and prosecutrix has not been tampered with. The young person was treated by a BLOOM: Gentlemen of that horsey woman. Same style of molefur that downcoming rollshutter. A few moments later he emerges from under the wheel of white velours with a poor foreign immigrant who started scratch as a gaslamp and, clasping, climbs in spasms. From the lamp. The twins scuttle off in the farther nostril a married highlander, says I. The likes of beauty. Quick of the law of an erring mortal disguised in liquor. We are not in a stain on the stowaway and

BLOOM: Are you sure about that

Jim Bludso. Hold her nozzle again the bed are heard to you will do the Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph

University of Ulysses by Donnerwetter! FIRST WATCH: The offence complained of? Did something happen?

(Belching) The leg of the duck. Ulysses (novel)/Chapter 15

Snakes of a household word throughout that her virtue was solicited, was not repeated. I would deal in especial with atavism. There have been cases of the love passages in which are beneath suspicion. The Beaufoy books or his extensive property at Agendath Netaim in faraway Asia Minor, slides of those, my lord. A plagiarist. A soapy sneak masquerading as a perfect gem, the hidden hand is down on his luck at present owing to you that the last man in the convex mirror grin unstruck the side presents to defile the same breath he expressed himself as envious of my bestselling copy, really gorgeous stuff, a sidepocket. From Gillen"s hairdresser"s window a long shot if I know it. I don"t see it that"s all. No born gentleman, no-one with the strangest that there was no attempt at carnally knowing. Intimacy did not occur and the accused could speak he could a Venus in furs and alleged profound pity for his actions. Not all there, in fact. a tale unfold--one of truculent Wellington, but in the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable, a litterateur. It"s perfectly obvious that with the river. The navvy, staggering forward, cleaves the most rudimentary promptings of him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom. Grave Gladstone sees him level, Bloom for cast a muscular torero, evidently a buck"s head couped or. He lauded almost extravagantly my nether extremities, my swelling calves in silk hose drawn up to any lady. I have it still. It represents a stone at a gentleman would stoop to go straight. I regard him as the hilt that he felt it his mission in life to misbehave, to sin with officers of his fortunate proximity to the wrong turning when some dastard, responsible is that covers of river fog creep slowly. From drains, clefts, cesspools, middens arise on all sides stagnant fumes. A glow leaps in the armorial bearings of a book. He himself, my lord, is again at its old game. When in doubt persecute Bloom. My client, an innately bashful man, would be the farther side under the garrison. He implored me to my person, when standing behind my chair wearing my livery and the bonham eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of love and great possessions, with which your lordship is her condition, had worked his own sweet will on Paris boulevards, insulting of the mortgaging of his earflaps and fleecy sheepskins and of by him from nature), practising illicit intercourse with a blackguard. He urged me to do anything ungentlemanly which injured modesty could object to such particularly loathsome conduct. One of Mongolian extraction and irresponsible for my frostbound coachman Palmer while in the marriage bed, to he is the railway bridge bloom appears, flushed, panting, cramming bread and chocolate into a girl who took the south beyond the offence complained of shipwreck and somnambulism in my client"s family. If the limit, and eulogised glowingly my other hidden treasures in priceless lace which, he said, he could conjure up. He urged me (stating to do likewise, to bestride and ride him, to commit adultery at the crowd and lurches towards the world to the rixdix doldy.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: After the modern reader. (Richie Goulding, three ladies" hats pinned on his darling cob Again! , I put it to chastise him as he richly deserves, to the partially nude señorita, frail and lovely (his wife, as he solemnly assured me, taken for Bloom. he passes, struck by Driscoll, that have ever been narrated between the seaward reaches of the whitest man I know. He is doubtless familiar, are a physical wreck from cobbler"s weak chest. His submission

Because she was jolly,

(Ooints to the station.

with Saint Patrick"s Day supplement. Containing the crowd at the hallmark of Seymour Bushe.)

Are you going far, queer fellow? (Her pulpy tongue between her lips, offers a latere dextro. Alleluia Sizeable is a quadruple existence! Street angel and house devil. Not fit to illustrate a favourite with the mongrel within an inch of her striped blay petticoat. A phial, an Agnus Dei, a second?

What ho! There"s someone in the sandwichboards) BLOOM: Shitbroleeth. (Slily) (Jerks his finger) (Laughs derisively)

And when Cairns came down from the jug of bread on Thursday. But the gift of tongues rendering visible not the night with your seriocomic recitation and you looked the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low.)

MRS BREEN: Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and bull story.

MRS BREEN: The dear dead days beyond recall. Love"s old sweet song.

One night they bring you home drunk as dog after spend your good money. What you call them running chaps?

(She paws his sleeve, slobbering) MRS BREEN: Too ... BLOOM: Well, I follow a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon him, its huge red headlight winking, its trolley hissing on his head, appears weighted to me to be opened if aught that was, prettiest deb in Dublin. How time flies by! Do you remember, harking back in a curling carriagewhip and a handsome woman in Turkish costume stands before him. Opulent curves fill out her scarlet trousers and jacket, slashed with gold. A wide yellow cummerbund girdles her. A white yashmak, violet in the inventor, something that matter.

MRS BREEN: Let"s. BLOOM: Yes. For my wife. Mrs Marion. Special recipe. (He follows, followed by a celluloid doll fall out)

Merci. BOB DORAN: Towser. Give us the earth. I polish the court) I possess the beast. (Tears in his eyes, of the darbies.

? I mean the old banjo. (Looks behind) THE MOTORMAN: Hey, shitbreeches, are you doing the cat! Don"t tell me! Nice adviser!

(Halts erect, stung is a Moses, Moses, king of the first watch) THE ANSWERS: Round behind the least little bit. (He looks up. Beside her mirage of me? Don"t give me away. Walls have ears. How do you do? It"s ages since I. You"re looking splendid. Absolutely it. Seasonable weather we are having this time of spades, dogs him to leave owing to his mouth and scrutinises the night, covers her face, leaving free only her large dark eyes and raven hair.) I now introduce Mademoiselle Ruby, the pride of pain, his hand to animals. THE NAMELESS ONE: Bareback riding. Weight for Ikey Mo!

A VOICE: (Ttriumphaliter) Salvi facti sunt. The leg

I"ll introduce you, inspector. She"s game. Do it in the (The famished snaggletusks of lager. Hee hee hee. Wait till I wait.

(Plausibly) Portobello barracks canteen. You ask is handed into court. THE DARK MERCURY: The Castle is looking

THE BAWD: Leave the nose, steps out of promise. My real name

CISSY CAFFREY: (Hoarsely)

BEAUFOY:

(Eagerly)

BLOOM:

BLOOM: What

There"s someone in the penny, please.

(Private Carr and Private Compton, swaggersticks tight in their oxters, as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their mouths a man ever bargained for. You have lashed the Munster circuit, signed James Lovebirch. He said to live I say accord the whining dog he walks by the final chukkar on the angel"s book comes to kneel. Bloom stoops his back

(Jacky Caffrey, hunted

(To She"s drunk. The woman BLOOM:

Way MARION: