In Bloom

  Lips kissed, kissing, kissed. Full gluey woman's lips. Better where she is down there: away. Not at all, Mr. Deasy said as he searched the papers on his desk. Bathe his lips, Mr. Dedalus said. 

Blessed and eternal God! Robert Emmet was buried here by torchlight, wasn't he? Making his rounds. You're right, by God. So he was. He moved a doll's head to and fro, the brims of his panama hat quivering, and began to chant in a quiet happy foolish voice: I'm the queerest young fellow that ever you heard. Never tell you. But we. Excuse, Miss, there's a (whh!) just a (whh!) fluff. Out on the rampage all night. I'm bloody sorry I did it, says he, but I declare to God I thought the archbishop was inside. He mightn't like it, though. What? 

Literature, the press. If Bloom were here, the professor said. Ah, to be sure! Stephen reached back and took the milkjug from the locker. The islanders, Mulligan said to Haines casually, speak frequently of the collector of prepuces. Bam! Sweny's in Lincoln place. Chemists rarely move. All in all. Send it at once, will you? He said. It's for an invalid. His dark lean face had a growth of shaggy beard round it. 

J. Accept my little present. Stationer's just here too. A knight of the rueful countenance here in Dublin. Vere dignum et iustum est. 

Peering into it. Lines in her eyes. It wouldn't pan out somehow. What is it? We are a generous people but we must also be just. I fear those big words, Stephen said, which make us so unhappy. 

Where did you try? That we all lived before on the earth thousands of years ago or some other planet. The black north and true blue bible. Money is power. Is he in trouble? Mr. Dedalus looked after the stumping figure and said mildly: the devil break the hasp of your back! 

All followed them out of the sidedoors into the mild grey air. 

Happy. Whew! Mr. Bloom gave prudent assent. 

The language of course was another thing. The grand canal, he said. Better let him forget. Go and lose more. Millevoye, felix faure, know how he died? You don't know yet what money is. Money is power. 

A moment! Or, please allow me... He doesn't see us, Mr. Power said. Yes, he does. Broken heart. Galleys of the Lochlanns ran here to beach, in quest of prey, their bloodbeaked prows riding low on a molten pewter surf. Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses. John Eglinton shifted his spare body, leaning back to judge. Lifted. Under the upswelling tide he saw the writhing weeds lift languidly and sway reluctant arms, hising up their petticoats, in whispering water swaying and upturning coy silver fronds. Who's standing? Paddy Leonard asked. He doesn't see us, Mr. Power said. J. O'Molloy murmured. But this prying into the family life of a great man, Russell began impatiently. Well out of that ruck I am. 

Yes, used to carry punched tickets to prove an alibi if they arrested you for murder somewhere. The scrotumtightening sea. Epi oinopa ponton. Smell almost cure you like the dentist's doorbell. 

Before and after. He said. Well, it's like a company idea, you see. Morning after the bazaar dance when may's band played Ponchielli's dance of the hours. God, we simply must dress the character. Whether on the scaffold high. Never know who You're talking to. Doesn't bring in any business either. Well, tolloll. Just c. Still life. Lap it up like milk, I suppose. We had better look a little serious, Martin Cunningham said. He declaimed in song, pointing sternly at Professor Machugh: 'twas rank and fame that tempted thee, 'twas empire charmed thy heart. The professor grinned, locking his long lips. 

Shows you the money to be made out of porter. Still the other brother Lord Ardilaun has to change his shirt four times a day, they say. 

My latin quarter hat. God, we simply must dress the character. Slaking his drouth. There's a van there, Mr. Bloom said, but it's not moving. Millevoye, felix faure, know how he died? Licentious men. The froeken, bonne a tout faire, who rubs male nakedness in the bath at upsala. 

The milk, sir! Come in, ma'am, Mulligan said. For the old hag with the yellow teeth. Going over next week to stew. You know that red Carlisle girl, Lily? Just beginning then. Proud: rich: silk stockings. Yes, Mr. Bloom said. It's a law something like that. Verdict: overdose. Hope he'll say something else. Gurrhr! She cried, running to lap. The mourners took heart of grace, one by one, covering themselves without show. Night I went down to the pantry in the kitchen. I'll ring them up after five. We call it black. Then passing over her white skin. Yes, Mr. Bloom said. 

He pulled the halldoor to after him very quietly, more, till the footleaf dropped gently over the threshold, a limp lid. He had cleaned his teeth, he knew, with arecanut paste. Father Conmee walked and, walking, smiled for he thought on father Bernard Vaughan's droll eyes and cockney voice. Yes, Mr. Bloom said, and another thing I often thought, is to have municipal funeral trams like they have in Milan, you know. Run the line out to the cemetery gates and have special trams, hearse and carriage and all. Make a picnic of it. 

Elijah thirtytwo feet per sec is com. 

That orangeflower water is so fresh. 

Though I was angry with old cotter for alluding to me as a child, I puzzled my head to extract meaning from his unfinished sentences. Mr. Deasy is calling you. He stood in the porch and watched the laggard hurry towards the scrappy field where sharp voices were in strife. Slaking his drouth. There's a van there, Mr. Bloom said, but it's not moving. He said. It's for an invalid. Yes, sir. I paid my way. Mr. Bloom came last folding his paper again into his pocket. To purchase waste sandy tracts from turkish government and plant with eucalyptus trees. Excellent for shade, fuel and construction. Father Conmee crossed to Mountjoy Square. No. She didn't want anything. Dewdrop coming down again. He added in a preacher's tone: for this, o dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns. 

Slow music, please. That's good news. Shapely bathers on golden strand. World's biggest balloon. Double marriage of sisters celebrated. 

His boots trod again a damp crackling mast, razorshells, squeaking pebbles, that on the unnumbered pebbles beats, wood sieved by the shipworm, lost armada. Two barefoot urchins, sucking long liquorice laces, halted near him, gaping at his stump with their yellowslobbered mouths. We come to bury Caesar. His Ides of March or June. He mightn't like it, though. Moore is the man for it. I do wish I could punish you for that. The milk, sir! Come in, ma'am, Mulligan said. Kinch, get the jug. Besides how could you remember everybody? Bold hand. Millevoye, felix faure, know how he died? Licentious men. Paying game. Wait a minute. I noticed he had a good rich smell off his breath dancing. No use humming then. Is it possible that that player Shakespeare, a ghost by absence, and in the vesture of buried Denmark, a ghost by death, speaking his own words to his own son's name (had Hamnet Shakespeare lived he would have been Prince Hamlet's twin), is it possible, I want to know, or probable that he did not draw or foresee the logical conclusion of those premises: you are the dispossessed son: I am the murdered father: your mother is the guilty queen, Ann Shakespeare, born Hathaway? But this prying into the family life of a great man, Russell began impatiently. 

The joybells were ringing in gay malahide. Filled with his God, he thrones, buddha under plantain. You're right there, nosey Flynn said. 

Falstaff was not a family man. I feel that the fat knight is his supreme creation. As if that. Machines. Mrs. Malins will get her death of cold." "Browne is out there, Aunt Kate," said Mary jane. I suppose the skin can't contract quickly enough when the flesh falls off. But the shape is there. The shape is there still. And his first child a girl? H. Dennany, monumental builder and sculptor. He tore away half the prize story sharply and wiped himself with it. Come out of them, Stephen. She cried, running to lap. The contrary no. But the grey face still followed me. Expresses nothing. Immortelles. Is it French you are talking, sir? The old woman said to Haines. What is that? What, sir? Stephen fetched the loaf and the pot of honey and the buttercooler from the locker. 

He raised his forefinger and beat the air oldly before his voice spoke. Then, lo and behold, they blossom out as Adam findlaters or Dan Tallons. I am, ma'am, Buck Mulligan answered. 

That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it? Their butteries and larders. Lump of love. He stood to read the card in his hand. The Reverend Hugh C. Love, Rathcoffey. He loved Ireland, he said, and he loved the Irish. Thanks to the little flower. Sadly missed. If you didn't know risky putting anything into your mouth. Poisonous berries. Johnny Magories. Mrs. Fleming is in to clean. Hold to the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past. The boy of act one is the mature man of act five. All in all. The high railings of prospect rippled past their gaze. How can you own water really? Mr. Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, fresh clean bread, with relish of disgust pungent mustard, the feety savour of green cheese. Mackerel they called me. A squad of constables debouched from College Street, marching in Indian file. Goosestep. So. Vico Road, Dalkey. Pyrrhus, sir? The boy of act one is the mature man of act five. All in all. Requiescat! Stephen prayed. A sleek brown head, a seal's, far out on the water, round. To serve or to upbraid, whether he could not tell: but scorned to beg her favour. No birds. Frail from the housetops two plumes of smoke ascended, pluming, and in a flaw of softness softly were blown. Those lovely seaside girls. 

Upset. A coffin bumped out on to the road. Burst open. The play's the thing! Let me parturiate! Ay. Where's monks? One good turn deserves another. He died in his sleep. Or the other story, beast with two backs? O, Mairy lost the pin of her drawers. Stationer's just here too. Then he put a forkful into his mouth, chewing with discernment the toothsome pliant meat. Done to a turn. Then, lo and behold, they blossom out as Adam findlaters or Dan Tallons. Cuprani too, printer. More Irish than the Irish. Y lagging behind drew a chunk of bread from under his foreboard, crammed it into his mouth and munched as he walked. Dowden believes there is some mystery in Hamlet but will say no more. 

Herr Bleibtreu, the man Piper met in Berlin, who is working up that Rutland theory, believes that the secret is hidden in the Stratford monument. Then the next thing on the menu. And who is the gentleman does be visiting there? Was the young master saying anything? 

Almidano artifoni, holding up a baton of rolled music as a signal, trotted on stout trousers after the dalkey tram. 

He chose badly? Saltwhite crumbling mush of corpse: smell, taste like raw white turnips. When all is said Dumas fils (or is it Dumas pere?) is right. Nature notes. I want to see about that French horse that's running today, Bantam Lyons said. Handkerchief too. 'Tis time for this poor soul to go to heaven. What is that? He stood in the porch and watched the laggard hurry towards the scrappy field where sharp voices were in strife. 

Writ, I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English. The peatsmoke is going to his head, John Eglinton opined. Heart on his sleeve. How many broken hearts are buried here, Simon! Her grave is over there, jack, Mr. Dedalus said. 

Our. Sitting on his throne sucking red jujubes white. 

A newsboy cried in Mr. Bloom's face: terrible tragedy in rathmines! Out of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. Yes, that. 

On the towpath by the lock a slacktethered horse. Aboard of the bugabu. Mr. Deasy is calling you. He stood in the porch and watched the laggard hurry towards the scrappy field where sharp voices were in strife. Pillar of salt. Wouldn't have it of course because he didn't think of it himself first. What are you singing? He would speak to Gallaher about it. Bombast! They are lovely. Tell us if You're worth your salt and be damned to you, Paddy Leonard said. Who gave it to you? Poisonous berries. Johnny Magories. High tea. Mayonnaise I poured on the plums thinking it was custard. Let him take me whenever he likes. 

Dowden believes there is some mystery in Hamlet but will say no more. Herr Bleibtreu, the man Piper met in Berlin, who is working up that Rutland theory, believes that the secret is hidden in the Stratford monument. 

Sent his heir over to make the king an Austrian Fieldmarshal now. Bullockbefriending. Synge has promised me an article for Dana too. 

The boy of act one is the mature man of act five. 

All in all. Rusty wreaths hung on knobs, garlands of bronzefoil. A man of genius makes no mistakes. His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery. Only a pauper. Nobody owns. How are the secondhand breeks? 

I understand, Stephen said. John Eglinton touched the foil. Is he in trouble? Which end is his head? Brother Swan was the person to see. 

Now your best French polish. Just say in the most natural tone: when I was in Paris; boul' mich', I used to. Yes, used to carry punched tickets to prove an alibi if they arrested you for murder somewhere. Give me the fidgets to look. Safer to eat from his three hands. And really did great good in his way. I zmellz de bloodz odz an iridzman. A point, live dog, grew into sight running across the sweep of sand. Lord, is he going to attack me? Don't! O! A bone! My fault, Mr. Bloom said, suffering his grip. Are you hurt? Lump of love. Is she in love with the first fellow all the time? Well: slainte! Around the slabbed tables the tangle of wined breaths and grumbling gorges. He closed his long thin lips an instant but, eager to be on, raised an outspanned hand to his spectacles and, with trembling thumb and ringfinger touching lightly the black rims, steadied them to a new focus. The tip of his little finger blotted out the sun's disk. He lunged towards his messmates in turn a thick slice of bread, impaled on his knife. That's folk, he said very earnestly, for your book, Haines. Take page four, advertisement for bransome's coffee, let us say. I'll ring them up after five. About a fortnight ago, sir? Yes, Mr. Bloom said. Peering into it. Lines in her eyes. Capped corners, rivetted edges, double action lever lock. Anniversary. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Bear with a sore paw. 

Yes, that. Try all pockets. Handker. 

He tore away half the prize story sharply and wiped himself with it. Come out of them, Stephen. God ild you. But we have also Roman law. Or their skirt behind, placket unhooked. Glimpses of the moon. Annoyed if you don't. Windows open. Ah then indeed, he said, poor little paddy wouldn't grudge us a laugh. 

All to see. Says he found a sweet young thing down there. Davy Byrne smiledyawnednodded all in one: iiiiiichaaaaaaach! There was one woman, nosey Flynn said, hid herself in a clock to find out what they do be doing. Potato I have. Creaky wardrobe. O'Molloy murmured. But we have also Roman law. After God Shakespeare has created most. Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said. They put on their bonnets and best clothes and take their umbrellas for fear it may come on to rain. O, touch me soon, now. Is she in love with the first fellow all the time? Never read it. Do you want another? I am, ma'am, Buck Mulligan answered. 

I am awfully angry with you. Six and a half per cent dividend. Made a big deal on Coates's shares. He died in his sleep. Or the other story, beast with two backs? Louis H. Victory. 

Are you going? On me alone. The ghostcandle to light her agony. 

Charley, Hynes said writing. Show us a minute. Stephen, his blood wooed by grace of language and gesture, blushed. Or sitting all day typing. He watched the dark eyeslits narrowing with greed till her eyes were green stones. Wonder will that fellow be at the band tonight. The mockery of it! He said gaily. You know the usual. Eyes front. I don't know who he is. He threw down among them a crumpled paper ball. 

The old woman said to Haines. O, lest he forget. That letter to father provincial. Buck Mulligan's voice sang from within the tower. Run on, Stephen said. Mr. Deasy is calling you. He stood in the porch and watched the laggard hurry towards the scrappy field where sharp voices were in strife. Slaking his drouth. If you didn't know risky putting anything into your mouth. Poisonous berries. Sees me looking. Eye out for other fellow always. 

Must get it. Potato I have. A dayfather he walked on through the caseroom passing an old man, bowed, spectacled, aproned. Old monks, the dayfather. Quickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan bent down. Let him take me whenever he likes. 

Longfelt want. No, sir. Ugly and futile: lean neck and tangled hair and a stain of ink, a snail's bed. Yet someone had loved him, borne him in her arms and in her heart. His dark lean face had a growth of shaggy beard round it. 

He wore a loose white silk neckcloth and altogether he looked (though he was not) a dying man. His gaze turned at once but slowly from J. Dewdrop coming down again. He asked me to. Charley, Hynes said writing. 

Woa! The carriage swerved from the tramtrack to the smoother road past watery lane. Mummed in names: a. E., eon: Magee, John Eglinton. Come in. Haines said, beginning to point at Stephen. 

Stephen reached back and took the milkjug from the locker. As decent a little man as ever wore a hat, Mr. Dedalus said. He went very suddenly. Ugly and futile: lean neck and tangled hair and a stain of ink, a snail's bed. Yet someone had loved him, borne him in her arms and in her heart. 

No, wait: four. Good pick me up. Who distilled first? August bank holiday, only two and six return. 

I don't want your custom at all. Saluting Ned Lambert and John Henry Menton he walked on at Martin Cunningham's side puzzling two long keys at his back. Fool and his money. Dewdrop coming down again. Around the slabbed tables the tangle of wined breaths and grumbling gorges. Stick it in a chap's eye in the tram. Rummaging. A film still veiled his eyes but they burned no longer. Un demi setier! A jet of coffee steam from the burnished caldron. Which end is his head? After a moment he followed the others in, blinking in the screened light. Fingering still the letter in his pocket he drew the pin out of it. Common pin, eh? He threw it on the road. Money is power. Is he in trouble? Mr. Dedalus looked after the stumping figure and said mildly: the devil break the hasp of your back! 

Please, sir... Nice smell these soaps have. Pure curd soap. Nosey Flynn said. Flow over them with your waves and with your waters, mananaan, mananaan maclir... He jerked short before the convent of the sisters of charity and held out a peaked cap for alms towards the very Reverend John Conmees. J. He withdrew his hand and pulled his dress to. Whew! Katey asked. Sister Mary Matrick, maggy said. Carry it out of the house on the shoulders of hirelings. Ominousfor him! J. His hasty hand went quick into a pocket, took out, read unfolded agendath netaim. Kino's / trousers good idea that. Wonder if he pays rent to the corporation. Your postprandial, do you know that word? He's the organiser in point of fact. Straw hat in sunlight. I often thought it would be better to have boy servants. Up to fifteen or so. Mr. Deasy stared sternly for some moments over the mantelpiece at the shapely bulk of a man in tartan fillibegs: Albert Edward, Prince of Wales. Clank it. Miles of it unreeled. Come, mess. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Flattery where least expected. Nobleman proud to be descended from some king's mistress. Remedy where you least expect it. 

High tea. Daughter working the machine in the parlour. Plain jane, no damn nonsense. Potato I have. A papal bull! Mine over there towards finglas, the plot I bought. 

Haines is apologising for waking us last night. Azotes. Then he put a forkful into his mouth, chewing with discernment the toothsome pliant meat. Done to a turn. Then, lo and behold, they blossom out as Adam Findlaters or Dan Tallons. Will I tell him that horse Lenehan? 

He knows already. They put on their bonnets and best clothes and take their umbrellas for fear it may come on to rain. Wise virgins, professor Machugh said. I liked Colum's drover. Yes, I think he has that queer thing genius. Where is he now? M'Intosh, Hynes said scribbling. At plevna that was. 

A catalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. No, agallop: deline the mare. But there are people like things high. The barrow turned into a side lane. A portly man, ambushed among the grasses, raised his hat in homage. The gravediggers touched their caps. Will any man love the daughter if he has not loved the mother? The art of being a grandfather, Mr. best gan murmur. Had the queen's hotel in Ennis. You heard him say he was going to Clare. Anniversary. Jammed by the hour to slow music. Monsieur Moore, he said, lecturer on French letters to the youth of Ireland. I'll be there. Come, kinch, the bards must drink. Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle. Pastille that was fell. What is she?... There must be a new moon out, she said. Entr'Acte. A ribald face, sullen as a dean's, Buck Mulligan came forward, then blithe in motley, towards the greeting of their smiles. My telegram. You were speaking of the gaseous vertebrate, if I mistake not? Futility. The priest closed his book and went off, followed by the server. Corny Kelleher opened the sidedoors and the gravediggers came in, hoisted the coffin again, carried it out and shoved it on their cart. 

Sweny's in Lincoln place. Chemists rarely move. Please tell me what is the real meaning of that word? Are you not happy in your home you poor little naughty boy? It's a law something like that. 

Vance in high school cracking his fingerjoints, teaching. On his cheek, dull and bloodless, a soft stain of ink lay, dateshaped, recent and damp as a snail's bed. He held out his copybook. The word sums was written on the headline. The ages succeed one another. Bury the dead. Say Robinson Crusoe was true to life. Wait. You, Armstrong. I didn't see the paper. Following the pointing of her finger he took up a leg of her soiled drawers from the bed. The maid was in the garden. Fine morning. 

Hates sewing. Might take an objection. Dark men they call them. Thanks, old chap: much obliged. Then a kind of a tallowy kind of a cheesy. Yes, evening will find itself in me, without me. 

Euge! Pretending to speak broken English as you dragged your valise, porter threepence, across the slimy pier at newhaven. He tore the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell and placed it in his heart pocket. Language of flowers. They like it because no-one can hear. Got fellows to stick them up or stick them up himself for that matter on the q. t. Running in to loosen a button. Bonjour. Welcome as the flowers in may. Drago's shopbell ringing. Queer I was just thinking that moment. Stay in. The firing squad. Turnkey's daughter got him out of Richmond, off from Lusk. In a photographer's there. Getting on like a house on fire. How are all your charges? Stephen prayed. And your lord and master? Mrs. Breen turned up her two large eyes. 

What time is the funeral? Better find out in the paper. Life is too short. He took off his silk hat and, blowing out impatiently his bushy moustache, welshcombed his hair with raking fingers. Ned Lambert tossed the newspaper aside, chuckling with delight. 

Want to feed well, sitting in there all the morning in the gloom kicking his heels waiting for the next please. Eyes of a toad too. What swells him up that way? They like them sizeable. Prime sausage. O please, Mr. policeman, I'm lost in the wood. Sad thing about poor Dignam, Mr. O'Rourke. Turning into Dorset Street he said freshly in greeting through the doorway: good day, Mr. O'Rourke. Their full slow eyes belied the words, the gestures eager and unoffending, but knew the rancours massed about them and knew their zeal was vain. He leaned downward and read near her polished thumbnail. Metempsychosis? 

His eyes said: not here. Don't see him. Found drowned. High water at Dublin bar. Driving before it a loose drift of rubble, fanshoals of fishes, silly shells. Shapely too. Now photography. I only heard it last night. Who was telling me? Holohan. You know Hoppy? They give him a leg up. I was told that by awell, I won't say who. There is something sinister in you.... 

O, I fear me, he is Greeker than the Greeks. His pale Galilean eyes were upon her mesial groove. By cock, she was to blame. She put the comether on him, sweet and twentysix. The greyeyed Goddess who bends over the boy Adonis, stooping to conquer, as prologue to the swelling act, is a boldfaced Stratford wench who tumbles in a cornfield a lover younger than herself. And my turn? 

But to think of your mother begging you with her last breath to kneel down and pray for her. She saw him into and out of the world. She took his first embraces. She bore his children and she laid pennies on his eyes to keep his eyelids closed when he lay on his deathbed. It rose. Nearly over. Wants to go out. Of course it's years ago. Noise of the trams probably. Well, if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he sees every day. Bartell d'Arcy was the tenor, just coming out then. Twentyseven and six. I'll tell him. He's in the craft, he said. Stay in. The firing squad. Turnkey's daughter got him out of Richmond, off from Lusk. Her head dancing. Her fansticks clicking. Is that Boylan well off? He has money. He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the rere. 

Something going on: some sodality. It's after they feel it. Proof of the pudding. Influence of the climate. Lethargy. That fellow that turned queen's evidence on the invincibles he used to receive the, carey was his name, the communion every morning. Temple, two lunches. Russell, one guinea, cousins, ten shillings, Bob Reynolds, half a guinea, Koehler, three guineas, Mrs. Mackernan, five weeks' board. 

The third brother that always marries the sleeping beauty and wins the best prize. Best of best brothers. Then I'll get the design, Mr. Nannetti, he said, and you'll give it a good place I know. Monks! Yes, sir. Visits him here on quarter days. Mr. Magee, sir, there's a gentleman to see you. Me? A bag of figrolls lay snugly in Armstrong's satchel. Wellturned foot. What is he foostering over that change for? Sees me looking. Eye out for other fellow always. "Yes," he said. "I was married last may twelve months." "I hope it's not too late in the day to offer my best wishes," said Ignatius Gallaher. In white silence: appealing. The best obtainable. Morny cannon is riding him. I could have got seven to one against Saint Amant a fortnight before. Who passed away. Who departed this life. They always build one door opposite another for the wind to. Way in. This was only to gain time. He laid the dry snot picked from his nostril on a ledge of rock, carefully. For the rest let look who will. 

His hand turned the page over. He leaned back and went on again, having just remembered. Of him that walked the waves. I paid the rent. Now I eat his salt bread. Give him the key too. Martin Cunningham said piously. The proud potent titles clanged over Stephen's memory the triumph of their brazen bells: et unam sanctam catholicam et apostolicam ecclesiam: the slow growth and change of rite and dogma like his own rare thoughts, a chemistry of stars. Symbol of the apostles in the mass for Pope Marcellus, the voices blended, singing alone loud in affirmation: and behind their chant the vigilant angel of the church militant disarmed and menaced her heresiarchs. A horde of heresies fleeing with mitres awry: photius and the brood of mockers of whom Mulligan was one, and Arius, warring his life long upon the consubstantiality of the son with the father, and valentine, spurning Christ's terrene body, and the subtle African heresiarch Sabellius who held that the father was himself his own son. Couch a hogshead with me then. In the darkmans clip and kiss. Morose delectation Aquinas tunbelly calls this, frate porcospino. Unfallen Adam rode and not rutted. Taree tara. Must be washed in rainwater. How on earth did he know that van was there? Must have felt it. See things in their forehead perhaps: kind of sense of volume. She was alone and still, gazing out to sea; and when she felt his presence and the worship of his eyes her eyes turned to him in quiet sufferance of his gaze, without shame or wantonness. The Greek! He said again. Gloomy gardens then went by: one by one: gloomy houses. 

Mr. Bloom watched curiously, kindly the lithe black form. Knows I'm a man. Voice. Right now? Like that something. As he walked he took the folded freeman from his sidepocket, unfolded it, rolled it lengthwise in a baton and tapped it at each sauntering step against his trouserleg. 

Welsh, were they not? "He is dead," she said at length. Mr. Casey tapped the gland of his neck and smiled at Stephen with sleepy eyes: and Mr. Dedalus said to him: "yes. Combustible duck. Life is too short. He took off his silk hat and, blowing out impatiently his bushy moustache, welshcombed his hair with raking fingers. Ned lambert tossed the newspaper aside, chuckling with delight. 

Nice piece of wood in that counter. 

Nicely planed. Like the way it curves there. Two, corny Kelleher said. Half ten and eleven. The caretaker put the papers in his pocket. O please do, sir... I shall be most pleased... Amused Buck Mulligan mused in pleasant murmur with himself, selfnodding: a pleased bottom. What? I should like to know, he said, which brother you... I understand you to suggest there was misconduct with one of the brothers... He asked. Yes, she said. There's nothing smutty in it. 

You were never here before, Jack, were you? No, Ned. I pass. Probably not a bit like it really. Kind of stuff you read: in the track of the sun. O, by God, blazes is a hairy chap. Davy Byrne came forward from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves, cleaning his lips with two wipes of his napkin. Herring's blush. Whose smile upon each feature plays with such and such replete. 

How did she do? 

The doctors of the church: they mapped out the whole theology of it. The priest prayed: blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the hour of conflict. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil (may God restrain him, we humbly pray!): and do thou, o Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God thrust satan down to hell and with him those other wicked spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls. Israel is weak and few are her children: Egypt is an host and terrible are her arms. Vagrants and daylabourers are you called: the world trembles at our name. A dumb belch of hunger cleft his speech. Scald the teapot. On the boil sure enough: a plume of steam from the spout. He scalded and rinsed out the teapot and put in four full spoons of tea, tilting the kettle then to let the water flow in. Having set it to draw he took off the kettle, crushed the pan flat on the live coals and watched the lump of butter slide and melt. He'll see you after at the d. B. C. As he and others see me. Who chose this face for me? Fifteen multiplied by. The figures whitened in his mind, unsolved: displeased, he let them fade. The shiny links, packed with forcemeat, fed his gaze and he breathed in tranquilly the lukewarm breath of cooked spicy pigs' blood. Here. He let the bloodsmeared paper fall to her and dropped the kidney amid the sizzling butter sauce. Pepper. He sprinkled it through his fingers ringwise from the chipped eggcup. Peace and war depend on some fellow's digestion. 

Religions. Up with her on the car: wishswish. Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it. He liked to read at stool. Hope no ape comes knocking just as I'm. 

I never exactly understood. I asked him how was all at home. You pray to a local and obscure idol: our temples, majestic and mysterious, are the abodes of Isis and Osiris, of Horus and Ammon Ra. Yours serfdom, awe and humbleness: ours thunder and the seas. Israel is weak and few are her children: Egypt is an host and terrible are her arms. Vagrants and daylabourers are you called: the world trembles at our name. He entered Davy Byrne's. Moral pub. Henry dear, do not deny my request before my patience are exhausted. Then I will tell you all. 

Goodbye now, naughty darling, I have such a bad headache. 

He broke off and lathered again lightly his farther cheek. A tolerant smile curled his lips. On the spindle side. But I am descended from sir john blackwood who voted for the union. We are all Irish, all kings' sons. One whiff of that and You're a goner. My kneecap is hurting me. And a pound and a half of Denny's sausages. 

His eyes rested on her vigorous hips. Woods his name is. Fish's face, bloodless and livid. The mutes shouldered the coffin and bore it in through the gates. So much dead weight. O yes, but I prefer q. Yes, but w is wonderful. O yes, w. Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeply deep, copies to be sent if you died to all the great libraries of the world, including Alexandria? I moved among them on the frozen liffey, that I, a changeling, among the spluttering resin fires. I spoke to no-one: none to me. The dog's bark ran towards him, stopped, ran back. Dog of my enemy. Now, my Miss, he said. Gaze. Belly without blemish, bulging big, a buckler of taut vellum, no, whiteheaped corn, orient and immortal, standing from everlasting to everlasting. Womb of sin. Peekaboo. I see you. No, no: he is dead, of course. Of course he is dead. Monday he died. Not going to be any music. Pity. Stop or I'll tell the Missus on you. 

It only brings it up fresh in their minds. The other one, jar on her head, was getting the supper: fruit, olives, lovely cool water out of a well, stonecold like the hole in the wall at Ashtown. Must carry a paper goblet next time I go to the trottingmatches. He asked me to. Charley, Hynes said writing. I know. I should like to know, he said, which brother you... 

Fleshpots of Egypt. He walked cheerfully towards the mosque of the baths. 

Remind you of a mosque, redbaked bricks, the minarets. His father, who had begun life as an advanced nationalist, had modified his views early. He had made his money as a butcher in Kingstown and by opening shops in Dublin and in the suburbs he had made his money many times over. The voice, made plaintive by distance and by the singer's hoarseness, faintly illuminated the cadence of the air with words expressing grief: o, the rain falls on my heavy locks and the dew wets my skin, my babe lies cold.... "O," exclaimed Mary jane. See things in their forehead perhaps: kind of sense of volume. Weight or size of it, something blacker than the dark. God wants blood victim. Birth, hymen, martyr, war, foundation of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering, druids' altars. Fifteen yesterday. Curious, fifteenth of the month too. He watched the dark eyeslits narrowing with greed till her eyes were green stones. "I didn't know your address or I'd have done so at the time." he extended his hand, which little chandler took. Maurice grinned at his father and then at his brother. Mr. Dedalus screwed his glass into his eye and stared hard at both his sons. Dunsink time. Fascinating little book that is of Sir Robert Ball's. Parallax. I never exactly understood. Horse looking round at it with his plume skeowways. Always liked to let her self out. Sitting there after till near two taking out her hairpins. The way they spring those questions on you. And the other one lizzie twigg. My literary efforts have had the good fortune to meet with the approval of the eminent poet a. Funerals all over the world everywhere every minute. Shovelling them under by the cartload doublequick. Thousands every hour. How quickly he does that job. Practice makes perfect. Seems to see with his fingers. Mr. Bloom passed on out of the clanking noises through the gallery on to the landing. 

Well now, that's all right. O, we had a good walk, hadn't we, john? Want to fix it up. They tell me he's round there in Dillon's. Art has to reveal to us ideas, formless spiritual essences. The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring. An old friend of mine. He died quite suddenly, poor fellow. Heart trouble, I believe. Funeral was this morning. 

Bound for their troughs. Today. Not think. Tour the south then. What about English wateringplaces? Brother buzz. He had a notion that he was being had. He could imagine his friends talking of the affair and laughing. Police tout. Her name and address she then told with my tooraloom tooraloom tay. O, surely he bagged it. 

That horsepoliceman the day Joe Chamberlain was given his degree in trinity he got a run for his money. My word he did! His horse's hoofs clattering after us down abbey street. Requiem mass. 

I say, Tommy, don't make punch of that whisky: liquor up." "no, really...." "o, come on, another one won't do you any harm. What is it? Ned lambert tossed the newspaper aside, chuckling with delight. 

An instant after a hoarse bark of laughter burst over Professor Machugh's unshaven blackspectacled face. Am I a father? If I were? Shrunken uncertain hand. Sabellius, the African, subtlest heresiarch of all the beasts of the field, held that the father was himself his own son. 

All sides of life should be represented. Quickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan bent down. The tramper Synge is looking for you, he said, to murder you. He heard you pissed on his halldoor in Glasthule. He's out in pampooties to murder you. Isn'T the sea what algy calls it: a great sweet mother? The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea. 

But you were delighted when Esther Osvalt's shoe went on you: girl I knew in Paris. The barrow turned into a side lane. 

Good afternoon, Mrs. Sheehy. Father Conmee doffed his silk hat and smiled, as he took leave, at the jet beads of her mantilla inkshining in the sun. And smiled yet again, in going. He said in a finical sweet voice, showing his white teeth and blinking his eyes pleasantly. Do you think she was? Quite charming! The calumet of peace he offered a cigarette to the professor and took one himself. Lenehan promptly struck a match for them and lit their cigarettes in turn. J. J. While the postmistress searched a pigeonhole he gazed at the recruiting poster with soldiers of all arms on parade: and held the tip of his baton against his nostrils, smelling freshprinted rag paper. No answer probably. Went too far last time. You don't know yet what money is. 

Kidneys were in his mind as he moved about the kitchen softly, righting her breakfast things on the humpy tray. Gelid light and air were in the kitchen but out of doors gentle summer morning everywhere. Rule the world today. His machineries are pegging away too. O rocks! Mr. Bloom smiled o rocks at two windows of the ballastoffice. She's right after all. 

I could, faith, nosey Flynn said, snuffling. That was a rare bit of horseflesh. Elizabethan London lay as far from Stratford as corrupt Paris lies from virgin Dublin. Who is the ghost from limbo patrum, returning to the world that has forgotten him? Olives are packed in jars, eh? I have a few left from Andrews. Molly spitting them out. Mr. O'Madden burke, tall in copious grey of Donegal tweed, came in from the hallway. Stephen Dedalus, behind him, uncovered as he entered. 

I have put the matter into a nutshell, Mr. Deasy said. It's about the foot and mouth disease. The nickel shavingbowl shone, forgotten, on the parapet. Why should I bring it down? Or leave it there all day, forgotten friendship? I am almosting it. That man led me, spoke. I was not afraid. And a letter for you. He laid her card and letter on the twill bedspread near the curve of her knees. Till now we had thought of her, if at all, as a patient Griselda, a Penelope Stayathome. Antisthenes, pupil of Gorgias, Stephen said, took the palm of beauty from kyrios menelaus' brooddam, argive Helen, the wooden mare of Troy in whom a score of heroes slept, and handed it to poor Penelope. Twenty years he lived in London and, during part of that time, he drew a salary equal to that of the lord chancellor of Ireland. His life was rich. The greatest disgrace to have in the family, Mr. Power added. Temporary insanity, of course, Martin Cunningham said decisively. We must take a charitable view of it. She is our great sweet mother. Come and look. Stephen stood up and went over to the parapet. The desire and loathing excited by improper esthetic means are really not esthetic emotions not only because they are kinetic in character but also because they are not more than physical. Our flesh shrinks from what it dreads and responds to the stimulus of what it desires by a purely reflex action of the nervous system. Three, Mr. Deasy said, turning his little savingsbox about in his hand. These are handy things to have. See. More than doctor or solicitor. 

But he adds: in bodies. Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. 

A vague dissatisfaction grew up within him as he looked on the quays and on the river and on the lowering skies and yet he continued to wander up and down day after day as if he really sought someone that eluded him. He remembered her outburst of that night and interpreted it in a harsher sense than he had ever done. He had no difficulty now in approving of the course he had taken. Yes. Spot the winner Lenehan came out of the inner office with sport's tissues. Who wants a dead cert for the gold cup? 

Mr. Kernan assured him. Who is that chap behind with Tom Kernan? I can watch it flow past from here. Get back then by the poolbeg road to the strand there. She is our great sweet mother. Come and look. Stephen stood up and went over to the parapet. Antiquity mentions famous beds, second Eglinton puckered, bedsmiling. Let me think. Antiquity mentions that stagyrite schoolurchin and bald heathen sage, Stephen said, who when dying in exile frees and endows his slaves, pays tribute to his elders, wills to be laid in earth near the bones of his dead wife and bids his friends be kind to an old mistress (don't forget Nell Gwynn Herpyllis) and let her live in his villa. Only wait. "All, God! Troy measure. Corny Kelleher fell into step at their side. Everything went off a, he said. Mr. Deasy stared sternly for some moments over the mantelpiece at the shapely bulk of a man in tartan fillibegs: Albert Edward, Prince of Wales. The last house. So it is, Mr. Dedalus said. 

A flower. I think it's a. A yellow flower with flattened petals. The reverend Hugh C. Love, Rathcoffey. Present address: Saint Michael's,Ssallins. It was queer too that you could not call him sir because he was a brother and had a different kind of look. An Irish country practice is better. A juicy pear or ladies' punch, hot, strong and sweet. Keep out the damp. Those crawthumpers, now that's a good name for them, there's always something shiftylooking about them. They're not straight men of business either. That fellow I was with in the ship last night, said Buck Mulligan, says you have g. P. I. Russell. That might be lizzie twigg with him. A. A. E.: what does that mean? You are walking through it howsomever. Liberty and exaltation of our holy mother the church. 

The doctors of the church: they mapped out the whole theology of it. What is this the right name is? By mosenthal it is. Rachel, is it? No. Sleeping draughts. Lovephiltres. The New York world cabled for a special. Remember that time? Professor Machugh nodded. Sister? I am sure she was crossed in love by her eyes. Very hard to bargain with that sort of a woman. 

Routh won. The cabin shook with the young men's cheering and the cards were bundled together. Look at the young guttersnipe behind him hue and cry, Lenehan said, and you'll kick. O, my rib risible! "Go on, sir! What? Eh? Corny Kelleher said. Mr. Kernan assured him. Eh? Ah, bloody nonsense. Psha! Fumbally's lane that night: the tanyard smells. White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy quarrons dainty is. Couch a hogshead with me then. His gaze brooded on his broadtoed boots, a buck's castoffs, Nebeneinander. He counted the creases of rucked leather wherein another's foot had nested warm. 

The foot that beat the ground in tripudium, foot I dislove. Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured out from Harrison's. The heavy noonreek tickled the top of Mr. Bloom's gullet. Stephen said. The problem is to get money. I often thought it would be better to have boy servants. Up to fifteen or so. I didn't see the paper. Following the pointing of her finger he took up a leg of her soiled drawers from the bed. Ah, poor dogsbody! He said in a kind voice. "I bow to you, Dixon said, but I had the impression that limbo existed for such cases. "Don't argue with him, Dixon, cranly said brutally. Don't talk to him or look at him. Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger. Paris and back. Mr. Bloom watched curiously, kindly the lithe black form. Clean to see: the gloss of her sleek hide, the white button under the butt of her tail, the green flashing eyes. He bent down to her, his hands on his knees. 

Old style. Ah yes! Of course. Bought it at the governor's auction. Excuse me, Councillor, he said. This ad, you see. Keyes, you remember? Mr. Nannetti considered the cutting awhile and nodded. Not a sinner. Near the timberyard a squatted child at marbles, alone, shooting the taw with a cunnythumb. A wise tabby, a blinking sphinx, watched from her warm sill. Pity to disturb them. Windows open. Fresh air helps memory. Or a lilt. Ahbeesee defeegee kelomen opeecue rustyouvee doubleyou. Mourners came out through the gates: woman and a girl. Leanjawed harpy, hard woman at a bargain, her bonnet awry. Dream he had, a nightmare. Indiges. Backstairs influence by... He raised his forefinger and beat the air oldly before his voice spoke. Potatoes and marge, marge and potatoes. It's after they feel it. Proof of the pudding. He looks cheerful enough over it. 

Gives him a sense of power seeing all the others go under first. 

Unfortunate people to die like that, unprepared. Still, an act of perfect contrition. And the other little man? His name was Brunny Lynam. O, that was a very nice name to have. Tentacles: octopus. Something occult: symbolism. On the Erin's King that day round the kish. 

Damned old tub pitching about. I see You're... O, no, Mr. Bloom said. Poor dignam, you know. Or was that I? Or am I now I? 

He looked at me. And that awful drunkard of a wife of his. Just how she stalks over my writingtable. Prr. Father Conmee blessed him in the sun for his purse held, he knew, one silver crown. Father Conmee crossed to Mountjoy Square. He thought, but not for long, of soldiers and sailors, whose legs had been shot off by cannonballs, ending their days in some pauper ward, and of Cardinal Wolsey's words: if I had served my God as I have served my king he would not have abandoned me in my old days. He walked by the treeshade of sunnywinking leaves: and towards him came the wife of Mr. David Sheehy M.P. I hope you'll soon follow him. For Hindu widows only. J. O'Molloy said, of Roman justice as contrasted with the earlier mosaic code, the lex talionis. 

"I can't, I'm going for blue. Fill it out, you, Maggy. "This page or this page? This page? The world is before you. Lovephiltres. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for cough. Clogs the pores or the phlegm. B. I believe, o lord, help my unbelief. Mr. Power asked through both windows. Irishtown, Martin Cunningham said. He asked. Tooraloo, Lenehan said. See you later. He followed M'Coy out across the tiny square of Crampton Court. The blind of the window was drawn aside. A card unfurnished apartments slipped from the sash and fell. A plump bare generous arm shone, was seen, held forth from a white petticoatbodice and taut shiftstraps. 

Mr. Dedalus screwed his glass into his eye and stared hard at both his sons. Afar, in a reek of lust and squalor, hands are laid on whiteness. Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's desk sharply. They looked at him and saw their master's face and cloak and knew that he had received his deathwound. But only the dark was where they looked: only dark silent air. Ger. He handed the card through the brass grill. Are there any letters for me? He asked. C'est Vendredi Saint! Murthering Irish. His image, wandering, he met. Yes, Mr. Bloom said. He moved a little to the side of M'coy's talking head. Getting up in a minute. What's wrong with him? Many errors, many failures but not the one sin. I am a struggler now at the end of my days. 

From me, Kinch, he said. In a suddenly changed tone he added: to tell you the God's truth I think You're right. 

Mr. Best pleaded. I mean, a kind of private paper, don't you know, of his private life. I mean, I don't care a button, don't you know, who is killed or who is guilty... 

He challenged. Say that he is the spurned lover in the sonnets. Once spurned twice spurned. A hasty step over the stone porch and in the corridor. Blowing out his rare moustache Mr. Deasy halted at the table. Coffined thoughts around me, in mummycases, embalmed in spice of words. Time shocked rebounds, shock by shock. Jousts, slush and uproar of battles, the frozen deathspew of the slain, a shout of spearspikes baited with men's bloodied guts. You can't lick 'em. What? Our envelopes. The vocal muse. Dublin's prime favourite. Lenehan gave a loud cough. Ahem! 

But how does it work here, Tommy? He asked. They were both on the way to the boat and he tried to drown..... O! A bone! That last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the schoolpoem choked himself at sletty southward of the Boyne. Wonder what he was eating. Veils fall. O, flowers! The walk. Not see. Get on. Making for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes. Did I write ballsbridge on the envelope I took to cover when she disturbed me writing to Martha? 

Hope it's not chucked in the dead letter office. Be the better of a shave. Tea. Must get some from Tom Kernan. The far east. Lovely spot it must be: the garden of the world, big lazy leaves to float about on, cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them. Wonder is it like that. Call me Richie. Damn your lithia water. It lowers. Requiem mass. And putting on his stiff collar and rebellious tie he spoke to them, chiding them, and to his dangling watchchain. His hands plunged and rummaged in his trunk while he called for a clean handkerchief. God, we'll simply have to dress the character. His glance touched their faces lightly as he smiled, a blond ephebe. Tame essence of Wilde. You're darned witty. The faithful hermetists await the light, ripe for chelaship, ringroundabout him. Louis H. White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy quarrons dainty is. Couch a hogshead with me then. Thanks in silence. Sorry, sir: trouble. Rody Kickham held the ball by its greasy lace. He closed the door and, walking swiftly to the bed, knelt beside it and covered his face with his hands. His hands were cold and damp and his limbs ached with chill. 

Emigrants, Mr. Power said. Why we left the church of Rome. A blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone with his slender cane. No tram in sight. Your own name is strange enough. I suppose it explains your fantastical humour. Me, MaGee and Mulligan. Not saying a word. To aid gentleman in literary work. Briefly, as well as I can bring them to mind, his words were these. He raised his head firmly. 

Blast you. I have reasons. Amplius. Time enough. Daresay corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. Singing with his eyes shut. Squarepushing up against a backdoor. 

Maul her a bit. The editor said, holding out a hand. 

Come in. O'Rourke, Prince of Breffni. Is he a widower? Was that chivalry? "The tragic emotion, in fact, is a face looking two ways, towards terror and towards pity, both of which are phases of it. Dream he had, a nightmare. Indiges. The squallers. Poor thing! Then having to give the breast year after year all hours of the night. They say it's healthier. Stream of life. What was the name of that priestylooking chap was always squinting in when he passed? Weak eyes, woman. But all those twenty years what do you suppose poor Penelope in Stratford was doing behind the diamond panes? Do and do. 

What is it? "A thing happened to myself, Stevie, last autumn, coming on winter, and I never told it to a living soul and you are the first person now I ever told it to. She knew from the first poor little Rudy wouldn't live. Well, God is good, sir. 

She knew at once. "Sha, 's nothing," said the injured man, trying to stand up. Arthur Griffith is a squareheaded fellow but he has no go in him for the mob. Or gas about our lovely land. Y.'s and plodded back as they had come. He looked indecisively for a moment at their faces. 

Liberty and exaltation of our holy mother the church. The doctors of the church: they mapped out the whole theology of it. The priest prayed: blessed Michael, Archangel, defend us in the hour of conflict. Fascination. Worst man in Dublin. That keeps him alive. Then come out a bit spreeish. 

Eleven, is it? I only heard it last night. Who was telling me? The drain, you mean. Drain?

Marion: welly? Mrs. Marion from this out, my dear man, when you speak to me. (Satirically.) has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long? Bloom: (shifts from foot to foot.) no, no. Stopped. Miss Douce, engaging, Lydia Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, George Lidwell, gentleman, entering. 

Good afternoon. M'Coy's white face smiled about it at instants and grew grave. Lenehan walked on again. Stunned like, seeing as how no shiners is acoming. 

Underconstumble? Keep in condition. Yes. He's as like it as damn it. Do anything you like with figures juggling. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? I beg your parsnips, says Alf. Better late than never. Licking pennies. Girl in tranquilla convent that nun told me liked to smell rock oil. Because, you see, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition. That's the whole secret. Rely on me, says Joe. Richie, admiring, descanted on that man's glorious voice. He remembered one night long ago. 

Spit in your own eye, boss! 

Mummer's wire. If you fall don't wait to get up. 

Five, seven, nine. And he heard their aresouns each gen other as touching birth and righteousness, young madden maintaining that put such case it were hard the wife to die (for so it had fallen out a matter of some year agone with a woman of eblana in horne's house that now was trespassed out of this world and the self night next before her death all leeches and pothecaries had taken counsel of her case). And they said farther she should live because in the beginning, they said, the woman should bring forth in pain and wherefore they that were of this imagination affirmed how young madden had said truth for he had conscience to let her die. And not few and of these was young lynch were in doubt that the world was now right evil governed as it was never other howbeit the mean people believed it otherwise but the law nor his judges did provide no remedy. And says Bloom: what I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Like kids your second visit to a house. 

The new I want. For they were right witty scholars. Body of white woman, a flute alive. I wanted to tell you. Tom Rochford... Come on to blazes, said blazes Boylan, going. Lenehan gulped to go. Washed in the blood of the lamb. Come on you winefizzling, ginsizzling, booseguzzling existences! 

Come on, you dog-gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed fourflushers, false alarms and excess baggage! In saddles of the leaders, leaping leaders, rode outriders. What was it? Martin Cunningham asked, as they went on up the staircase. His spellbound eyes went after, after her gliding head as it went down the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmering, a spiky shell, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze with sunnier bronze. Yes, bronze from anearby. 

Bye for today. Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat. And Bloom with his but don't you see? And but on the other hand. 

Mr. Hynes sat down again on the table. My wife and your wife. Some people, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own. Raimeis, says the citizen. There's no-one as blind as the fellow that won't see, if you know what that means. Come upstairs for goodness' sake till I sit down somewhere. 

Uff! Bloom: (his hand on the shoulder of the first watch.) my old dad too was a J. She would make the great sacrifice. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. Dreck! (Henry Flower combs his moustache and beard rapidly with a pocketcomb and gives a cow's lick to his hair. Don't tell me! Nice adviser! Bloom: because it didn't suit you one quarter as well as the other ducky little tammy toque with the bird of paradise wing in it that I admired on you and you honestly looked just too fetching in it though it was a pity to kill it, you cruel naughty creature, little mite of a thing with a heart the size of a fullstop. Mrs. Breen: (squeezes his arm, simpers.) naughty cruel I was! He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled the girl with the three pairs of stays. Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. Yes, I believe it is the same objectionable person. All fallen. At the siege of Ross his father, at gorey all his brothers fell. To Wexford, we are the boys of Wexford, he would. 

Mona, my true love. Yook. Mona, my own love. Knock at the door. Bloom: nes. Pflaap! Tally ho. You not come? Run, skelter, race. 

Old Russell with a smeared shammy rag burnished again his gem, turned it and held it at the point of his moses' beard. Grandfather ape gloating on a stolen hoard. 

F sharp major, Ben Dollard said. 

Bob Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords. P.; the Rev. J. Flanagan, c. C. I was in Europe with kevin egan of Paris. You wouldn't see a trace of them or their language anywhere in Europe except in a cabinet d'aisance. You know why? Palm oil. Is that a fact? Without a doubt. Tell us! He told them what he had said and what the rector had said and, when he had told them, all the fellows flung their caps spinning up into the air and cried: "hurroo! He gulped down the spittle in his throat as if he were gulping down the phrase and, fumbling at the peak of his tweed cap, turned to Stephen, saying: "excuse me, sir, what do you mean by that expression you uttered just now? Feeling himself jostled by the students near him, he said to them: "I am curious to know now what he meant by that expression. S'Elp me, honest injun. Shiver my timbers if I had. There's a great big holy friar. As easy stop the sea. Yes: all is lost. Yes. He's as like it as damn it. No. The windscreen of that motorcar in the sun there. 

He scratches himself with crossed arms at his ribs, grimacing, and exclaims:) I'm suffering the agony of the damned. By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to Jesus those funny little chaps are not unanimous. If they were they'd walk me off the face of the bloody globe. Bloom: (bitterly.) man and woman, love, what is it? A cork and bottle. I'm sick of it. Let everything rip. Same style of beauty. Particularly nice old party for a cup of tea. 

What I mean is... Because their wombs. A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a fence of lashes, calmly, hearing. See real beauty of the eye when she not speaks. 

Jacky! Richie goulding: he's another. Weighs on his mind. Funny my watch stopped at half past four. Dust. Lynch! Hey? Sign on long O' me. Coastguards too. Rocket and breeches buoy and lifeboat. What harm? Must since she came to the use of reason, he, he and he. Eh? I am watching you. At it again? A fair unsullied soul had called to him and, wretch that he was, how had he answered? No harm in him. Just a few. O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw dirty bracegirdle made me do love sticky we two naughty grace darling she him half past the bed met him pike hoses frillies for raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon senorita young eyes mulvey plump bubs me breadvan winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in her next her next. 

It was a fight to a finish and the best man for it. The two fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high. The referee twice cautioned pucking percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch. Anarchist. Wiped his nose in curtain too. Custom his country perhaps. That's music too. Where's punch? All serene. Jay, look at the drunken minister coming out of the maternity hospal! Benedicat vos omnipotens deus, pater et filius. No harm in him. Just a few. O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw dirty bracegirdle made me do love sticky we two naughty grace darling she him half past the bed met him pike hoses frillies for raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon senorita young eyes mulvey plump bubs me breadvan winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in her next her next. The voice of penance and of grief came slow, embellished, tremulous. Ben's contrite beard confessed. In nomine domini, in God's name he knelt. 

(He turns to a figure in the crowd, appealing.) hynes, may I speak to you? You know me. Says Joe. Remanded, says J. Cider. Yes, bottle of cider. What's that? He burst her tympanum. (With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the cynical spasm.) hik! Three and eleven she paid for those stockings in sparrow's of george's street on the tuesday, no the monday before easter and there wasn't a brack on them and that was what he was looking at, transparent, and not at her insignificant ones that had neither shape nor form (the cheek of her!) because he had eyes in his head to see the difference for himself. Cissy came up along the strand with the two twins and their ball with her hat anyhow on her to one side after her run and she did look a streel tugging the two kids along with the flimsy blouse she bought only a fortnight before like a rag on her back and a bit of her petticoat hanging like a caricature. He, not me. Also a shop often noticed. Howth settled for slumber, tired of long days, of yumyum rhododendrons (he was old) and felt gladly the night breeze lift, ruffle his fell of ferns. He lay but opened a red eye unsleeping, deep and slowly breathing, slumberous but awake. And far on kish bank the anchored lightship twinkled, winked at Mr. Bloom. I thought we were bad here. I smiled at him. America, I said quietly, just like that. I wanted to tell you. Tom Rochford... Come on to blazes, said blazes Boylan, going. Twopence each, the huckster said. Four for sixpence. Tattered pages. The shepherd's hour: the hour of folding: hour of tryst. From house to house, giving his everwelcome double knock, went the nine O'clock postman, the glowworm's lamp at his belt gleaming here and there through the laurel hedges. And among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp at Leahy's terrace. By screens of lighted windows, by equal gardens a shrill voice went crying, wailing: evening telegraph, stop press edition! Zoe: and more's mother? (She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws.) are you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola? 

I'm off, said Boylan with impatience. He slid his chalice brisk away, grasped his change. Bold hand: mrs Marion. Did I forget to write address on that letter like the postcard I sent to Flynn? And the day I went to drimmie's without a necktie. Wrangle with molly it was put me off. The honourable mrs mervyn talboys: very much so! I'll make it hot for you. I'll make you dance jack latten for that. Mrs. Bellingham: tan his breech well, the upstart! Ah, what m'guckin! Yes. Did I kill him, says he, or what? And he shouting to the bloody dog: after him, garry! And then a rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and o! Then the roman candle burst and it was like a sigh of o! Gift of nature. Ventriloquise. My lips closed. Apocalypse. Kitty: and Mary shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from jimmy pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral. 

Slide left foot one pace back! This plebeian don juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. 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. And, my word, didn't the little chap enjoy that! Pearls. Drops. Rain. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Your corporosity sagaciating o k? So howandever, as I was saying, the old dog seeing the tin was empty starts mousing around by Joe and me. I'd train him by kindness, so I would, if he was my dog. 

Go home. The tear is bloody near your eye. Talking through his bloody hat. 

Fitter for him go home to the little sleepwalking bitch he married, mooney, the bumbailiff's daughter, mother kept a kip in hardwicke street, that used to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told me that was stopping there at two in the morning without a stitch on her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour. Mrs. b. Is the bright particular star, isn't she? Says Joe. Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. Always want to be swilling in company. Afraid to be alone like a child of two. 

The preacher took a chainless watch from a pocket within his soutane and, having considered its dial for a moment in silence, placed it silently before him on the table. He began to speak in a quiet tone. Mrs. Donnelly bade the children be quiet and listen to maria's song. Then she played the prelude and said "now, maria!" and maria, blushing very much began to sing in a tiny quavering voice. Or? No. Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. Some good matronly woman in a porkpie hat to mother him. Take him in tow, platter face and a large apron. 

Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three shillings a pair, astonishing bargain. A form sprawled against a dustbin and muffled by its arm and hat snores, groans, grinding growling teeth, and snores again. 

On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones. It was a fight to a finish and the best man for it. 

Who? Says I. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. Tossed to fat lips his chalice, drank off his chalice tiny, sucking the last fat violet syrupy drops. His spellbound eyes went after, after her gliding head as it went down the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmering, a spiky shell, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze with sunnier bronze. Yes, bronze from anearby. ... 

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. For this relief much thanks. The lonely house by the graveyard is uninhabited. No soul will live there. The spider pitches her web in the solitude. Ware hawks for the chap puking. Unwell in his abominable regions. Yooka. Night. Was it you did it, Alf? Says Joe. Nit. Hydrochlor. Bronzedouce communing with her rose that sank and rose sought blazes Boylan's flower and eyes. Please, please. He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. Solomon did. Gift of nature. What's your programme today? Ay. Humane methods. My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain slogger Dennehy of the inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob centaur. This plebeian don juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. I have it still. Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. Yes, she had known from the very first that her daydream of a marriage has been arranged and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs. Reggy Wylie T. I will arise and go to my. He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. His thumbs are stuck in his armpits and his palms outspread. Round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his breast in a corkscrew cross. Releasing his thumbs, he invokes grace from on high with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp:) the cardinal: conservio lies captured he lies in the lowest dungeon with manacles and chains around his limbs weighing upwards of three tons. Wanted: jack the ripper. A thousand pounds reward. Cornfide. Wha gev ye thon colt? Pal to pal. Jannock. Lovey lovekin. None of your lean kine, not much. Pull down the blind, love. (H. Rumbold, master barber, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, a rope coiled over his shoulder, mounts the block. A life preserver and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in his belt. He wears a dark mantle and drooping plumed sombrero. He carries a silverstringed inlaid dulcimer and a longstemmed bamboo jacob's pipe, its clay bowl fashioned as a female head. We had to search all holles street to find them till the chap in keogh's gave us the number. Remember? Good voice he has still. No eunuch yet with all his belongings. Listen. Fine! Got a prime pair of mincepies, no kid. And her take me to rests and her anker of rum. Rumbold, master barber, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, a rope coiled over his shoulder, mounts the block. A life preserver and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in his belt. And her take me to rests and her anker of rum. Must be seen to be believed. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, o gluepot. Faces were there; eyes: they waited and watched. We are met here as friends, in the spirit of good-fellowship, as colleagues, also to a certain extent, in the true spirit of camaraderie, and as the guests of"what shall I call them?"the three graces of the Dublin musical world." the table burst into applause and laughter at this allusion. Sp.; the Rev. I didn't know what was up and Alf kept making signs out of the door. And begob what was it only that bloody old pantaloon denis breen in his bathslippers with two bloody big books tucked under his oxter and the wife hotfoot after him, unfortunate wretched woman, trotting like a poodle. I thought Alf would split. Look at him, says he. Good man, Simon. Clappyclapclap. Encore! Clapclipclap clap. Here, Simon, I'll accompany you, he said. Get up. By graham lemon's pineapple rock, by elvery's elephant jingly jogged. Where did I put the letter? Yes, all right. All kinds of crazy longings. Most brutal thing. What do they say was the cause? Spontaneous combustion. Only the harp. Lovely. Gold glowering light. Write the stars and stripes on it! Mrs. Yelverton Barry: disgraceful! There's no excuse for him! I won't go. Race there, race back to Ennis. Let him. Just close my eyes a moment. 

His sins. All gone. Obviously mammal in weight of bosom you remark that she has in front well to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the noonday soupplate, while on her rere lower down are two additional protuberances, suggestive of potent rectum and tumescent for palpation, which leave nothing to be desired save compactness. Such fleshy parts are the product of careful nurture. Ora pro nobis. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her with faith and constancy can never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge for the afflicted because of the seven dolours which transpierced her own heart. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue banners of the blessed virgin's sodality and father conroy was helping canon O'Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out of that and not get on her nerves, no hour to be out, and the little brats of twins. Molly drawing on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. 

What's that like? Tap. Tap. A last lonely candle wandered up the sky from mirus bazaar in search of funds for mercer's hospital and broke, drooping, and shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. They floated, fell: they faded. (A firm heelclacking tread is heard on the stairs.) Bloom: (takes the chocolate.) aphrodisiac? Tansy and pennyroyal. But I bought it. Infatuated. I like that? See her from here though. Put them all on to take them all off. 

Molly. It's like a fine fine veil or web they have all over the skin, fine like what do you call it gossamer, and they're always spinning it out of them, fine as anything, like rainbow colours without knowing it. Clings to everything she takes off. Vamp of her stockings. Warm shoe. Stephen: (with an effort.) interval which. 

Do fish ever get seasick? 

Then you have a beautiful calm without a cloud, smooth sea, placid, crew and cargo in smithereens, davy jones' locker, moon looking down so peaceful. Weeping willow. Ba. There he goes. Funny little beggar. Postal order, stamp. Postoffice lower down. Walk now. 

Woodwind like Goodwin's name. She looked fine. He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled the girl with the three pairs of stays. Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. All prick and no pence. (Edy boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws her shawl across her nostrils.) Edy Boardman: (bickering.) and says the one: I seen you up faithful place with your squarepusher, the greaser off the railway, in his cometobed hat. When you feel like that you often meet what you feel. 

Though our ages. Will write fully tomorrow. K. Buy paper. Daly's. Girl there civil. Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves. 

Aroma rises, a strong hairgrowth of resin. A chain of children 's hands imprisons him.) the children: kithogue! Salute! That's what they enjoy. Taking a man from another woman. Blow gentle. Loud. Three holes, all women. J., a postcard is publication. It was held to be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase sadgrove v. It's so hard to find one who. Eh? I am watching you. Philip drunk: (impatiently.) ah, bosh, man. Go to hell! Munro and h. T. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. He wrote me an anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband was in the north riding of tipperary on the munster circuit, signed James lovebirch. Got a prime pair of mincepies, no kid. And her take me to rests and her anker of rum. Must be seen to be believed. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, o gluepot. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. 

Her first stays I remember. God they believe she is: or Goddess. Those today. I could not see. Stephano dedalo, alumno optimo, palmam ferenti. Father conmee, having read his little hours, walked through the Hamlet of donnycarney, murmuring vespers. Binding too good probably. For that matter so are we. Yes, says J. J., and every male that's born they think it may be their messiah. Buccinator muscle is... Ruin them. Wreck their lives. Then build them cubicles to end their days in. First watch: infernal machine with a time fuse. Bloom: no, no. Pig's feet. A boy. A croppy boy. Bronze, listening, by the beerpull gazed far away. Loud. Imitate pa. Filling my belly with husks of swine. Too much of this. I will arise and go to my. The nec and non plus ultra of emotion were reached when the blushing bride elect burst her way through the serried ranks of the bystanders and flung herself upon the muscular bosom of him who was about to be launched into eternity for her sake. The hero folded her willowy form in a loving embrace murmuring fondly sheila, my own. Encouraged by this use of her Christian name she kissed passionately all the various suitable areas of his person which the decencies of prison garb permitted her ardour to reach. She swore to him as they mingled the salt streams of their tears that she would ever cherish his memory, that she would never forget her hero boy who went to his death with a song on his lips as if he were but going to a hurling match in Clonturk Park. 

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 opportunity. The honourable mrs mervyn talboys: (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.) also me. Because he saw me on the polo ground of the phoenix park at the match all Ireland versus the rest of Ireland. That bloody old fool! Ten thousand pounds. Then I will tell you all. Still it was a kind of language between us. It couldn't be? No, Gerty they called her. Says Bloom. She's singing, yes. Says Joe. Remanded, says J. Says Joe. And says Bloom: what I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Ay, blazes, says Alf. Philip sober: (gaily.) c'etait le sacre pigeon, Philippe. (Kitty unpins her hat and sets it down calmly, patting her henna hair. 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. Says Joe. God's truth, says Alf. I heard that from the head warder that was in Kilmainham when they hanged Joe Brady, the invincible. Bloom: (enthusiastically.) a noble work! I scolded that tramdriver on harold's cross bridge for illusing the poor horse with his harness scab. Bad french I got for my pains. Bloom: (looks behind.) she often said she'd like to visit. Slumming. The exotic, you see. Negro servants in livery too if she had money. And shaking Bloom's hand doing the tragic to tell her that. Shake hands, brother. You're a rogue and I'm another. I could have sworn it was him. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? I beg your parsnips, says Alf. Ben my chree! A voice: hold that fellow with the bad breeches. Ben Dollard: (smites his thigh in abundant laughter.) hold him now. Henry: (caressing on his breast a severed female head, murmurs.) thine heart, mine love. Fr. Stephen went down bedford row, the handle of the ash clacking against his shoulderblade. No! We drive them headlong! Lo! We charge! Play low, pardner. Slide. Grave Bloom regards Zoe's neck. 

Henry Gallant turns with pendant dewlap to the piano.) Stephen: (to himself.) play with your eyes shut. Imitate pa. Young student. Straight on her pins anyway not like the other. Still she was game. Lord, I am wet. Not a word, says Joe. Order. Yes, I remember. Lovely air. How do you? I do well. Outside the Dublin distillers company's stores an outside car without fare or jarvey stood, the reins knotted to the wheel. 

Damn dangerous thing. 

Second watch: (points to the corner.) the bomb is here. Not come: whet appetite. 

Buttered toast. O and that lotion mustn't forget. What's that? It never comes the same. Bat again. 

High, a high note pealed in the treble clear. What rider is like him? Mount him on the camel or the boisterous buffalo the victory in a hack canter is still his. Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. Benedicat vos omnipotens deus, pater et filius. A make, mister. The denzille lane boys. Wonder who's playing. Nice touch. Must be Cowley. Musical. Not to speak of hostels, leperyards, sweating chambers, plaguegraves, their greatest doctors, the O'Shiels, the O'Hickeys, the O'Lees, have sedulously set down the divers methods by which the sick and the relapsed found again health whether the malady had been the trembling withering or loose boyconnell flux. Certainly in every public work which in it anything of gravity contains preparation should be with importance commensurate and therefore a plan was by them adopted (whether by having preconsidered or as the maturation of experience it is difficult in being said which the discrepant opinions of subsequent inquirers are not up to the present congrued to render manifest) whereby maternity was so far from all accident possibility removed that whatever care the patient in that allhardest of woman hour chiefly required and not solely for the copiously opulent but also for her who not being sufficiently moneyed scarcely and often not even scarcely could subsist valiantly and for an inconsiderable emolument was provided. To her nothing already then and thenceforward was anyway able to be molestful for this chiefly felt all citizens except with proliferent mothers prosperity at all not to can be and as they had received eternity Gods mortals generation to befit them her beholding, when the case was so hoving itself, parturient in vehicle thereward carrying desire immense among all one another was impelling on of her to be received into that domicile. O thing of prudent nation not merely in being seen but also even in being related worthy of being praised that they her by anticipation went seeing mother, that she by them suddenly to be about to be cherished had been begun she felt! He's an excellent man to organise. Because he saw me on the polo ground of the phoenix park at the match all Ireland versus the rest of Ireland. Whatever statement you make, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence against you. 

Got a prime pair of mincepies, no kid. And her take me to rests and her anker of rum. Ay. Humane methods. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue banners of the blessed virgin's sodality and father conroy was helping canon O'Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out of that and not get on her nerves, no hour to be out, and the little brats of twins. 

Molly drawing on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. It was a fight to a finish and the best man for it. Who? Says I. He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. His thumbs are stuck in his armpits and his palms outspread. I like that? What harm? Must since she came to the use of reason, he, he and he. Eh? J., and every male that's born they think it may be their messiah. Buccinator muscle is... Ruin them. I like that? See her from here though. Put them all on to take them all off. A croppy boy. Bronze, listening, by the beerpull gazed far away. Loud. Order. Yes, I remember. Lovely air. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue banners of the blessed virgin's sodality and father conroy was helping canon O'Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out of that and not get on her nerves, no hour to be out, and the little brats of twins. 

Releasing his thumbs, he invokes grace from on high with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp:) the cardinal: conservio lies captured he lies in the lowest dungeon with manacles and chains around his limbs weighing upwards of three tons. Wanted: jack the ripper. 

No eunuch yet with all his belongings. Listen. Fine! Raimeis, says the citizen. There's no-one as blind as the fellow that won't see, if you know what that means. Benedicat vos omnipotens deus, pater et filius. Was it you did it, Alf? 

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. And, my word, didn't the little chap enjoy that! 

Ben's contrite beard confessed. In nomine domini, in God's name he knelt. Uff! (Satirically.) has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long? 

Bloom: (shifts from foot to foot.) no, no. It was a fight to a finish and the best man for it. Who? Says I. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. Because their wombs. A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a fence of lashes, calmly, hearing. No. The windscreen of that motorcar in the sun there. He scratches himself with crossed arms at his ribs, grimacing, and exclaims:) I'm suffering the agony of the damned. By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to Jesus those funny little chaps are not unanimous. Grandfather ape gloating on a stolen hoard. F sharp major, Ben Dollard said. He, not me. Also a shop often noticed. Do fish ever get seasick? Then you have a beautiful calm without a cloud, smooth sea, placid, crew and cargo in smithereens, davy jones' locker, moon looking down so peaceful. Please, please. He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. The shepherd's hour: the hour of folding: hour of tryst. From house to house, giving his everwelcome double knock, went the nine O'clock postman, the glowworm's lamp at his belt gleaming here and there through the laurel hedges. 

And among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp at Leahy's terrace. Did I forget to write address on that letter like the postcard I sent to Flynn? And the day I went to drimmie's without a necktie. Wrangle with molly it was put me off. Mrs. b. Is the bright particular star, isn't she? Grandfather ape gloating on a stolen hoard. F sharp major, Ben Dollard said. 

Hey? Sign on long O' me. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Your corporosity sagaciating o k? His spellbound eyes went after, after her gliding head as it went down the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmering, a spiky shell, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze with sunnier bronze. Yes, bronze from anearby. Particularly nice old party for a cup of tea. What I mean is... Because their wombs. 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. Salute! Spontaneous combustion. Only the harp. Lovely. 

I scolded that tramdriver on harold's cross bridge for illusing the poor horse with his harness scab. Bad french I got for my pains. Bloom: (looks behind.) she often said she'd like to visit. Clings to everything she takes off. Vamp of her stockings. Warm shoe. And but on the other hand. Gift of nature. What's your programme today? P.; the Rev. J. Flanagan, c. C. 

Wha gev ye thon colt? Pal to pal. Yes, bronze from anearby. Bye for today. Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat. The hero folded her willowy form in a loving embrace murmuring fondly sheila, my own. 

Encouraged by this use of her Christian name she kissed passionately all the various suitable areas of his person which the decencies of prison garb permitted her ardour to reach. She swore to him as they mingled the salt streams of their tears that she would ever cherish his memory, that she would never forget her hero boy who went to his death with a song on his lips as if he were but going to a hurling match in Clonturk Park. She's singing, yes. Says Joe. Remanded, says J. Imitate pa. Young student. Ten thousand pounds. Then I will tell you all. Still it was a kind of language between us. It couldn't be? Weighs on his mind. Funny my watch stopped at half past four. Humane methods. My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain slogger Dennehy of the inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob centaur. If they were they'd walk me off the face of the bloody globe. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. 

Tossed to fat lips his chalice, drank off his chalice tiny, sucking the last fat violet syrupy drops. Still she was game. Lord, I am wet. Not a word, says Joe. Her first stays I remember. God they believe she is: or Goddess. Weeping willow. Ba. There he goes. Yes, bronze from anearby. And, my word, didn't the little chap enjoy that! Pearls. Drops. Daly's. Girl there civil. Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves. Lenehan gulped to go. Washed in the blood of the lamb. Bloom: (shifts from foot to foot.) no, no. Stopped. Miss Douce, engaging, lydia Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, george lidwell, gentleman, entering. He's as like it as damn it. No. The windscreen of that motorcar in the sun there. Must be Cowley. Musical. Says I. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. Tossed to fat lips his chalice, drank off his chalice tiny, sucking the last fat violet syrupy drops. Night. Was it you did it, Alf? Says Joe. 

My wife and your wife. Some people, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own. 

Spontaneous combustion. Postal order, stamp. Postoffice lower down. Walk now. Howth settled for slumber, tired of long days, of yumyum rhododendrons (he was old) and felt gladly the night breeze lift, ruffle his fell of ferns. He lay but opened a red eye unsleeping, deep and slowly breathing, slumberous but awake. And far on kish bank the anchored lightship twinkled, winked at Mr. Bloom. I thought we were bad here. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? I beg your parsnips, says Alf. Apocalypse. Kitty: and Mary shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from jimmy pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral. It's so hard to find one who. 

And, my word, didn't the little chap enjoy that! 

Pearls. To her nothing already then and thenceforward was anyway able to be molestful for this chiefly felt all citizens except with proliferent mothers prosperity at all not to can be and as they had received eternity gods mortals generation to befit them her beholding, when the case was so hoving itself, parturient in vehicle thereward carrying desire immense among all one another was impelling on of her to be received into that domicile. O thing of prudent nation not merely in being seen but also even in being related worthy of being praised that they her by anticipation went seeing mother, that she by them suddenly to be about to be cherished had been begun she felt! My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain slogger Dennehy of the inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob centaur. 

Ventriloquise. My lips closed. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? I beg your parsnips, says Alf. Better late than never. Zoe: and more's mother? (She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws.) are you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola? I'm off, said Boylan with impatience. Or? No. Please, please. He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. Solomon did. No harm in him. Just a few. O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw dirty bracegirdle made me do love sticky we two naughty grace darling she him half past the bed met him pike hoses frillies for raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon senorita young eyes mulvey plump bubs me breadvan winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in her next her next. Not come: whet appetite. Buttered toast. He wears a dark mantle and drooping plumed sombrero. He carries a silverstringed inlaid dulcimer and a longstemmed bamboo jacob's pipe, its clay bowl fashioned as a female head. 

As easy stop the sea. Pig's feet. A boy. And far on kish bank the anchored lightship twinkled, winked at Mr. Bloom. I thought we were bad here. I smiled at him. I am watching you. Uff! Bloom: (his hand on the shoulder of the first watch.) my old dad too was a J. She would make the great sacrifice. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. The new I want. For they were right witty scholars. 

Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue banners of the blessed virgin's sodality and father conroy was helping canon O'Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out of that and not get on her nerves, no hour to be out, and the little brats of twins. She's singing, yes. Says Joe. Remanded, says J. Musical. Not to speak of hostels, leperyards, sweating chambers, plaguegraves, their greatest doctors, the O'Shiels, the O'Hickeys, the O'Lees, have sedulously set down the divers methods by which the sick and the relapsed found again health whether the malady had been the trembling withering or loose boyconnell flux. Certainly in every public work which in it anything of gravity contains preparation should be with importance commensurate and therefore a plan was by them adopted (whether by having preconsidered or as the maturation of experience it is difficult in being said which the discrepant opinions of subsequent inquirers are not up to the present congrued to render manifest) whereby maternity was so far from all accident possibility removed that whatever care the patient in that allhardest of woman hour chiefly required and not solely for the copiously opulent but also for her who not being sufficiently moneyed scarcely and often not even scarcely could subsist valiantly and for an inconsiderable emolument was provided. 

Yes, she had known from the very first that her daydream of a marriage has been arranged and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs. Reggy Wylie T. I will arise and go to my. 

How do you? I do well. O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw dirty bracegirdle made me do love sticky we two naughty grace darling she him half past the bed met him pike hoses frillies for raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon senorita young eyes mulvey plump bubs me breadvan winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in her next her next. It was a fight to a finish and the best man for it. 

Bloom: (shifts from foot to foot.) no, no. Keep in condition. What harm? Must since she came to the use of reason, he, he and he. 

Custom his country perhaps. Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. Always want to be swilling in company. Afraid to be alone like a child of two. And far on kish bank the anchored lightship twinkled, winked at Mr. Bloom. I thought we were bad here. I smiled at him. America, I said quietly, just like that. Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out of that and not get on her nerves, no hour to be out, and the little brats of twins. Molly drawing on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. She would make the great sacrifice. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. Dreck! Pull down the blind, love. 

Some people, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own. Raimeis, says the citizen. All prick and no pence. (Edy boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws her shawl across her nostrils.) Edy Boardman: (bickering.) and says the one: I seen you up faithful place with your squarepusher, the greaser off the railway, in his cometobed hat. When you feel like that you often meet what you feel. And, my word, didn't the little chap enjoy that! Pearls. Drops. Rain. 

Says Joe. A form sprawled against a dustbin and muffled by its arm and hat snores, groans, grinding growling teeth, and snores again. On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones. It was a fight to a finish and the best man for it. Who? Wiped his nose in curtain too. Custom his country perhaps. Same style of beauty. Particularly nice old party for a cup of tea. Yes. He's as like it as damn it. I beg your parsnips, says Alf. Better late than never. Licking pennies. Got a prime pair of mincepies, no kid. And her take me to rests and her anker of rum. Says Bloom. The windscreen of that motorcar in the sun there. He scratches himself with crossed arms at his ribs, grimacing, and exclaims:) I'm suffering the agony of the damned. Just close my eyes a moment. His sins. All gone. Obviously mammal in weight of bosom you remark that she has in front well to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the noonday soupplate, while on her rere lower down are two additional protuberances, suggestive of potent rectum and tumescent for palpation, which leave nothing to be desired save compactness. Father conmee, having read his little hours, walked through the Hamlet of donnycarney, murmuring vespers. Binding too good probably. For that matter so are we. You know me. Says Joe. Remanded, says J. Eh? I am watching you. Philip drunk: (impatiently.) ah, bosh, man. Run, skelter, race. Old Russell with a smeared shammy rag burnished again his gem, turned it and held it at the point of his moses' beard. Was it you did it, Alf? Says Joe. Nit. (She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws.) are you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola? 

Postoffice lower down. 

Where did I put the letter? By graham lemon's pineapple rock, by elvery's elephant jingly jogged. Though our ages. Will write fully tomorrow. Remanded, says J. Says Joe. And says Bloom: what I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Says Joe. Encore! Clapclipclap clap. I thought we were bad here. I smiled at him. America, I said quietly, just like that. The two fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high. The referee twice cautioned pucking percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch. He gulped down the spittle in his throat as if he were gulping down the phrase and, fumbling at the peak of his tweed cap, turned to Stephen, saying: "excuse me, sir, what do you mean by that expression you uttered just now?" Feeling himself jostled by the students near him, he said to them: "I am curious to know now what he meant by that expression." It never comes the same. 

Yes, she had known from the very first that her daydream of a marriage has been arranged and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs. Reggy Wylie T. I will arise and go to my. He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. Race there, race back to Ennis. Let him. Just close my eyes a moment. His sins. The spider pitches her web in the solitude. Ware hawks for the chap puking. That bloody old fool! Ten thousand pounds. Then I will tell you all. Spontaneous combustion. Only the harp. Bloom: no, no. Pig's feet. Fitter for him go home to the little sleepwalking bitch he married, mooney, the bumbailiff's daughter, mother kept a kip in hardwicke street, that used to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told me that was stopping there at two in the morning without a stitch on her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour. 

Mrs. b. A last lonely candle wandered up the sky from mirus bazaar in search of funds for mercer's hospital and broke, drooping, and shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. They floated, fell: they faded. 

Still it was a kind of language between us. It couldn't be? No, Gerty they called her. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. 

Stephen went down bedford row, the handle of the ash clacking against his shoulderblade. Kitty: and Mary shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from jimmy pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral. Slide left foot one pace back! This plebeian don juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. He slid his chalice brisk away, grasped his change. Bold hand: mrs Marion. Did I forget to write address on that letter like the postcard I sent to Flynn? Pearls. Drops. Rain. Bloom: (bitterly.) man and woman, love, what is it? A cork and bottle. Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat. And Bloom with his but don't you see? And but on the other hand. Buccinator muscle is... Ruin them. Wreck their lives. I'll make it hot for you. I'll make you dance jack latten for that. I have it still. Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. Yes, she had known from the very first that her daydream of a marriage has been arranged and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs. Reggy Wylie T. I will arise and go to my. Richie goulding: he's another. Weighs on his mind. 

Still it was a kind of language between us. The lonely house by the graveyard is uninhabited. No soul will live there. The spider pitches her web in the solitude. My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain slogger Dennehy of the inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob centaur. 

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. And, my word, didn't the little chap enjoy that! And they said farther she should live because in the beginning, they said, the woman should bring forth in pain and wherefore they that were of this imagination affirmed how young madden had said truth for he had conscience to let her die. 

I didn't know what was up and Alf kept making signs out of the door. And begob what was it only that bloody old pantaloon denis breen in his bathslippers with two bloody big books tucked under his oxter and the wife hotfoot after him, unfortunate wretched woman, trotting like a poodle. I thought Alf would split. Yook. Mona, my own love. 

Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. Some good matronly woman in a porkpie hat to mother him. Take him in tow, platter face and a large apron. The nec and non plus ultra of emotion were reached when the blushing bride elect burst her way through the serried ranks of the bystanders and flung herself upon the muscular bosom of him who was about to be launched into eternity for her sake. Some people, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own. Raimeis, says the citizen. There's no-one as blind as the fellow that won't see, if you know what that means. Come upstairs for goodness' sake till I sit down somewhere. 

Then the roman candle burst and it was like a sigh of o! Bye for today. Howth settled for slumber, tired of long days, of yumyum rhododendrons (he was old) and felt gladly the night breeze lift, ruffle his fell of ferns. He lay but opened a red eye unsleeping, deep and slowly breathing, slumberous but awake. And far on kish bank the anchored lightship twinkled, winked at Mr. Bloom. Jacky! High, a high note pealed in the treble clear. What rider is like him? There he goes. Funny little beggar. 

(A firm heelclacking tread is heard on the stairs.) Bloom: (takes the chocolate.) aphrodisiac? Tansy and pennyroyal. But I bought it. Come upstairs for goodness' sake till I sit down somewhere. 

Marion: welly? Mrs. Marion from this out, my dear man, when you speak to me. (Satirically.) has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long? Bloom: (shifts from foot to foot.) no, no. Funny my watch stopped at half past four. 

For that matter so are we. 

Salute! Jay, look at the drunken minister coming out of the maternity hospal! 

Benedicat vos omnipotens deus, pater et filius. Gift of nature. What's your programme today? Ay. She would make the great sacrifice. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. Dreck! (Henry Flower combs his moustache and beard rapidly with a pocketcomb and gives a cow's lick to his hair. Postal order, stamp. Postoffice lower down. Walk now. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. His thumbs are stuck in his armpits and his palms outspread. Round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his breast in a corkscrew cross. She's singing, yes. Says Joe. Go to hell! (H. Rumbold, master barber, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, a rope coiled over his shoulder, mounts the block. A life preserver and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in his belt. Lovely air. How do you? Outside the Dublin distillers company's stores an outside car without fare or jarvey stood, the reins knotted to the wheel. Damn dangerous thing. No, Gerty they called her. Says Bloom. She's singing, yes. You're a rogue and I'm another. I could have sworn it was him. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? 

My wife and your wife. Some people, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own. He wears a dark mantle and drooping plumed sombrero. He carries a silverstringed inlaid dulcimer and a longstemmed bamboo jacob's pipe, its clay bowl fashioned as a female head. 

We had to search all holles street to find them till the chap in keogh's gave us the number. Stephano dedalo, alumno optimo, palmam ferenti. Father conmee, having read his little hours, walked through the Hamlet of donnycarney, murmuring vespers. Pig's feet. A boy. Marion: welly? Mrs. Marion from this out, my dear man, when you speak to me. (Satirically.) has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long? Bloom: (shifts from foot to foot.) no, no. Slide left foot one pace back! This plebeian don juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. Bat again. Musical. Not to speak of hostels, leperyards, sweating chambers, plaguegraves, their greatest doctors, the O'Shiels, the O'Hickeys, the O'Lees, have sedulously set down the divers methods by which the sick and the relapsed found again health whether the malady had been the trembling withering or loose boyconnell flux. The two fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high. The referee twice cautioned pucking percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch. Where did I put the letter? Yes, all right. All kinds of crazy longings. She's singing, yes. Says Joe. Remanded, says J. Says Joe. It was held to be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase sadgrove v. It's so hard to find one who. 

Eh? He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. His thumbs are stuck in his armpits and his palms outspread. Jacky! Because he saw me on the polo ground of the phoenix park at the match all Ireland versus the rest of Ireland. That bloody old fool! Ten thousand pounds. Then I will tell you all. The lonely house by the graveyard is uninhabited. The preacher took a chainless watch from a pocket within his soutane and, having considered its dial for a moment in silence, placed it silently before him on the table. He began to speak in a quiet tone. Uff! Bloom: (his hand on the shoulder of the first watch.) my old dad too was a J. She would make the great sacrifice. Encore! Clapclipclap clap. Here, Simon, I'll accompany you, he said. 

Whatever statement you make, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence against you. Marion: welly? Mrs. Marion from this out, my dear man, when you speak to me. Race there, race back to Ennis. Let him. Like kids your second visit to a house. Apocalypse. Kitty: and Mary shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from jimmy pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral. Slide left foot one pace back! 

Philip sober: (gaily.) c'etait le sacre pigeon, Philippe. (Kitty unpins her hat and sets it down calmly, patting her henna hair. Shouldering the lamp he staggers away through the crowd with his flaring cresset. 

Snakes of river fog creep slowly. 

We are met here as friends, in the spirit of good- fellowship, as colleagues, also to a certain extent, in the true spirit of camaraderie, and as the guests of"what shall I call them?"the three graces of the Dublin musical world." the table burst into applause and laughter at this allusion. Sp.; the Rev. I didn't know what was up and Alf kept making signs out of the door. Bob Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords. P.; the Rev. Kitty: and Mary shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from jimmy pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral. 

See real beauty of the eye when she not speaks. Jacky! Richie goulding: he's another. Weighs on his mind. And not few and of these was young lynch were in doubt that the world was now right evil governed as it was never other howbeit the mean people believed it otherwise but the law nor his judges did provide no remedy. And says Bloom: what I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Like kids your second visit to a house. 

He's an excellent man to organise. Because he saw me on the polo ground of the phoenix park at the match all Ireland versus the rest of Ireland. Cider. Yes: all is lost. Yes. He's as like it as damn it. A last lonely candle wandered up the sky from mirus bazaar in search of funds for mercer's hospital and broke, drooping, and shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. They floated, fell: they faded. 

(A firm heelclacking tread is heard on the stairs.) Bloom: (takes the chocolate.) aphrodisiac? 

Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. Some good matronly woman in a porkpie hat to mother him. Take him in tow, platter face and a large apron. 

Mrs. b. Is the bright particular star, isn't she? Says Joe. No! We drive them headlong! Uff! Bloom: (his hand on the shoulder of the first watch.) my old dad too was a J. She would make the great sacrifice. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? I beg your parsnips, says Alf. Better late than never. Bronze, listening, by the beerpull gazed far away. Loud. Imitate pa. 

Talking through his bloody hat. Fitter for him go home to the little sleepwalking bitch he married, mooney, the bumbailiff's daughter, mother kept a kip in hardwicke street, that used to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told me that was stopping there at two in the morning without a stitch on her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour. Afraid to be alone like a child of two. The preacher took a chainless watch from a pocket within his soutane and, having considered its dial for a moment in silence, placed it silently before him on the table. Snakes of river fog creep slowly. Says Joe. God's truth, says Alf. Marion: welly? Mrs. Marion from this out, my dear man, when you speak to me. I have it still. Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. Yes, she had known from the very first that her daydream of a marriage has been arranged and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs. Reggy Wylie T. Because he saw me on the polo ground of the phoenix park at the match all Ireland versus the rest of Ireland. That bloody old fool! Ten thousand pounds. Postoffice lower down. Walk now. Uff! Bloom: (his hand on the shoulder of the first watch.) my old dad too was a J. The referee twice cautioned pucking percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch. Anarchist. Wiped his nose in curtain too. Custom his country perhaps. He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled the girl with the three pairs of stays. Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. Not come: whet appetite. Buttered toast. O and that lotion mustn't forget. What's that? And her take me to rests and her anker of rum. Must be seen to be believed. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, o gluepot. Faces were there; eyes: they waited and watched. I will arise and go to my. 

Grave Bloom regards Zoe's neck. 

Remanded, says J. My lips closed. Apocalypse. Kitty: and Mary shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from jimmy pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. She looked fine. He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled the girl with the three pairs of stays. Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. Lynch! Hey? Sign on long O' me. Night. Was it you did it, Alf? Says Joe. From house to house, giving his everwelcome double knock, went the nine O'clock postman, the glowworm's lamp at his belt gleaming here and there through the laurel hedges. And among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp at Leahy's terrace. You're a rogue and I'm another. I could have sworn it was him. Eh? I am watching you. Without a doubt. Here, Simon, I'll accompany you, he said. Get up. Feeling himself jostled by the students near him, he said to them: "I am curious to know now what he meant by that expression. S'Elp me, honest injun. Shiver my timbers if I had. J., a postcard is publication. It was held to be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase sadgrove v. 

Must be seen to be believed. 

Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, o gluepot. Faces were there; eyes: they waited and watched. Mrs. b. Is the bright particular star, isn't she? Says Joe. Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. J., and every male that's born they think it may be their messiah. Buccinator muscle is... Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. 

All prick and no pence. Fitter for him go home to the little sleepwalking bitch he married, mooney, the bumbailiff's daughter, mother kept a kip in hardwicke street, that used to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told me that was stopping there at two in the morning without a stitch on her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour. Mrs. b. Is the bright particular star, isn't she? We had to search all holles street to find them till the chap in keogh's gave us the number. Remember? Such fleshy parts are the product of careful nurture. Ora pro nobis. Molly. Such fleshy parts are the product of careful nurture. Ora pro nobis. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her with faith and constancy can never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge for the afflicted because of the seven dolours which transpierced her own heart. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue banners of the blessed virgin's sodality and father conroy was helping canon O'Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue banners of the blessed virgin's sodality and father conroy was helping canon O'Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out of that and not get on her nerves, no hour to be out, and the little brats of twins. 

Molly drawing on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. Mr. Hynes sat down again on the table. 

You know me. Says Joe. Remanded, says J. Cider. And says Bloom: what I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Like kids your second visit to a house. Some good matronly woman in a porkpie hat to mother him. Take him in tow, platter face and a large apron. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three shillings a pair, astonishing bargain. The preacher took a chainless watch from a pocket within his soutane and, having considered its dial for a moment in silence, placed it silently before him on the table. He began to speak in a quiet tone. 

And among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp at Leahy's terrace. By screens of lighted windows, by equal gardens a shrill voice went crying, wailing: evening telegraph, stop press edition! Cider. Yes, bottle of cider. For they were right witty scholars. Take him in tow, platter face and a large apron. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three shillings a pair, astonishing bargain. You're a rogue and I'm another. I could have sworn it was him. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? You're a rogue and I'm another. I could have sworn it was him. He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. His thumbs are stuck in his armpits and his palms outspread. (A firm heelclacking tread is heard on the stairs.) Bloom: (takes the chocolate.) aphrodisiac? Tansy and pennyroyal. But I bought it. Postal order, stamp. Postoffice lower down. Walk now. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her with faith and constancy can never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge for the afflicted because of the seven dolours which transpierced her own heart. None of your lean kine, not much. First watch: infernal machine with a time fuse. Bloom: no, no. What's that like? Tap. Tap. Always want to be swilling in company. Afraid to be alone like a child of two. The preacher took a chainless watch from a pocket within his soutane and, having considered its dial for a moment in silence, placed it silently before him on the table. He began to speak in a quiet tone. Bloom: no, no. Pig's feet. A boy. A croppy boy. For that matter so are we. Yes, says J. J., and every male that's born they think it may be their messiah. Blow gentle. Loud. Wiped his nose in curtain too. 

Custom his country perhaps. 

Please, please. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. 

Dreck! Because, you see, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition. Pearls. Drops. Rain. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Not a word, says Joe. Order. Yes, I remember. And they said farther she should live because in the beginning, they said, the woman should bring forth in pain and wherefore they that were of this imagination affirmed how young madden had said truth for he had conscience to let her die. Benedicat vos omnipotens deus, pater et filius. A make, mister. The denzille lane boys. He told them what he had said and what the rector had said and, when he had told them, all the fellows flung their caps spinning up into the air and cried: "hurroo! He gulped down the spittle in his throat as if he were gulping down the phrase and, fumbling at the peak of his tweed cap, turned to Stephen, saying: "excuse me, sir, what do you mean by that expression you uttered just now? Feeling himself jostled by the students near him, he said to them: "I am curious to know now what he meant by that expression. She looked fine. He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled the girl with the three pairs of stays. Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. Hydrochlor. Bronzedouce communing with her rose that sank and rose sought blazes Boylan's flower and eyes. Please, please. Order. Yes, I remember. Lovely air. How do you? High, a high note pealed in the treble clear. What rider is like him? Mount him on the camel or the boisterous buffalo the victory in a hack canter is still his. Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. Mr. Hynes sat down again on the table. My wife and your wife. Yes, she had known from the very first that her daydream of a marriage has been arranged and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs. Reggy Wylie T. I will arise and go to my. He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. (He turns to a figure in the crowd, appealing.) hynes, may I speak to you? 

Yes, all right. All kinds of crazy longings. Most brutal thing. Must since she came to the use of reason, he, he and he. Eh? I am watching you. It's so hard to find one who. Eh? I am watching you. Buttered toast. O and that lotion mustn't forget. What's that? America, I said quietly, just like that. You not come? Encore! Clapclipclap clap. Here, Simon, I'll accompany you, he said. 

Henry Gallant turns with pendant dewlap to the piano.) Stephen: (to himself.) play with your eyes shut. Imitate pa. Young student. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue banners of the blessed virgin's sodality and father conroy was helping canon O'Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out of that and not get on her nerves, no hour to be out, and the little brats of twins. 

And her take me to rests and her anker of rum. Must be seen to be believed. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, o gluepot. Three holes, all women. J., a postcard is publication. Round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his breast in a corkscrew cross. Releasing his thumbs, he invokes grace from on high with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp:) the cardinal: conservio lies captured he lies in the lowest dungeon with manacles and chains around his limbs weighing upwards of three tons. Wanted: jack the ripper. Binding too good probably. For that matter so are we. Yes, says J. J., and every male that's born they think it may be their messiah. The windscreen of that motorcar in the sun there. 

He scratches himself with crossed arms at his ribs, grimacing, and exclaims:) I'm suffering the agony of the damned. By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to Jesus those funny little chaps are not unanimous. Hey? Infatuated. 

Yes, bronze from anearby. All prick and no pence. (Edy boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws her shawl across her nostrils.) Edy Boardman: (bickering.) and says the one: I seen you up faithful place with your squarepusher, the greaser off the railway, in his cometobed hat. When you feel like that you often meet what you feel. Though our ages. 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 opportunity. The honourable mrs mervyn talboys: (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.) also me. Says Joe. Nit. Here, Simon, I'll accompany you, he said. Get up. By graham lemon's pineapple rock, by elvery's elephant jingly jogged. 

That's what they enjoy. Taking a man from another woman. Blow gentle. Washed in the blood of the lamb. Come on you winefizzling, ginsizzling, booseguzzling existences! Come on, you dog-gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed fourflushers, false alarms and excess baggage! Then she played the prelude and said "now, maria!" and maria, blushing very much began to sing in a tiny quavering voice. Or? Ay. Play low, pardner. Slide. Grave Bloom regards Zoe's neck. He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled the girl with the three pairs of stays. Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. Bob Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords. P.; the Rev. J. Tansy and pennyroyal. But I bought it. He carries a silverstringed inlaid dulcimer and a longstemmed bamboo jacob's pipe, its clay bowl fashioned as a female head. We had to search all holles street to find them till the chap in keogh's gave us the number. Remember? Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. 

Her first stays I remember. God they believe she is: or Goddess. Yooka. Night. Got a prime pair of mincepies, no kid. Bloom: (bitterly.) man and woman, love, what is it? A cork and bottle. He's an excellent man to organise. Because he saw me on the polo ground of the phoenix park at the match all Ireland versus the rest of Ireland. 

Whatever statement you make, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence against you. 

On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones. It was a fight to a finish and the best man for it. Spontaneous combustion. Only the harp. 

Talking through his bloody hat. Fitter for him go home to the little sleepwalking bitch he married, mooney, the bumbailiff's daughter, mother kept a kip in hardwicke street, that used to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told me that was stopping there at two in the morning without a stitch on her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour. And not few and of these was young lynch were in doubt that the world was now right evil governed as it was never other howbeit the mean people believed it otherwise but the law nor his judges did provide no remedy. And says Bloom: what I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Like kids your second visit to a house. Bye for today. Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat. And Bloom with his but don't you see? And but on the other hand. First watch: infernal machine with a time fuse. 

Henry Gallant turns with pendant dewlap to the piano.) Stephen: (to himself.) play with your eyes shut. Imitate pa. Young student. Feeling himself jostled by the students near him, he said to them: "I am curious to know now what he meant by that expression. S'Elp me, honest injun. As easy stop the sea. Yes: all is lost. Yes. He's as like it as damn it. And says Bloom: what I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Mrs. Donnelly bade the children be quiet and listen to maria's song. Then she played the prelude and said "now, maria!" and maria, blushing very much began to sing in a tiny quavering voice. Yes. Did I kill him, says he, or what? 

I'm sick of it. Let everything rip. As easy stop the sea. He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled the girl with the three pairs of stays. Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. Such fleshy parts are the product of careful nurture. Ora pro nobis. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her with faith and constancy can never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge for the afflicted because of the seven dolours which transpierced her own heart. 

Says Joe. Nit. Hydrochlor. Stephen went down bedford row, the handle of the ash clacking against his shoulderblade. No! We drive them headlong! I have moved in the charmed circle of the highest... Queens of Dublin society. In saddles of the leaders, leaping leaders, rode outriders. What was it? Martin Cunningham asked, as they went on up the staircase. Wonder who's playing. Nice touch. She's singing, yes. Bronzedouce communing with her rose that sank and rose sought blazes Boylan's flower and eyes. Please, please. He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. Mona, my own love. Knock at the door. Bloom: nes. All prick and no pence. (Edy boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws her shawl across her nostrils.) Edy Boardman: (bickering.) and says the one: I seen you up faithful place with your squarepusher, the greaser off the railway, in his cometobed hat. Stopped. Miss Douce, engaging, lydia Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, george lidwell, gentleman, entering. 

Zoe: and more's mother? (She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws.) are you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola? I'm off, said Boylan with impatience. Though our ages. Will write fully tomorrow. Certainly in every public work which in it anything of gravity contains preparation should be with importance commensurate and therefore a plan was by them adopted (whether by having preconsidered or as the maturation of experience it is difficult in being said which the discrepant opinions of subsequent inquirers are not up to the present congrued to render manifest) whereby maternity was so far from all accident possibility removed that whatever care the patient in that allhardest of woman hour chiefly required and not solely for the copiously opulent but also for her who not being sufficiently moneyed scarcely and often not even scarcely could subsist valiantly and for an inconsiderable emolument was provided. Warm shoe. Stephen: (with an effort.) interval which. Shiver my timbers if I had. There's a great big holy friar. Mona, my own love. Knock at the door. 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. Father conmee, having read his little hours, walked through the Hamlet of donnycarney, murmuring vespers. Binding too good probably. For that matter so are we. Yes, says J. Binding too good probably. For that matter so are we. Yes, says J. Shouldering the lamp he staggers away through the crowd with his flaring cresset. 

Philip drunk: (impatiently.) ah, bosh, man. Go to hell! He slid his chalice brisk away, grasped his change. Bold hand: mrs Marion. Did I forget to write address on that letter like the postcard I sent to Flynn? He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled the girl with the three pairs of stays. Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. Jacky! Richie goulding: he's another. Weighs on his mind. Is the bright particular star, isn't she? Says Joe. Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. Yes, I believe it is the same objectionable person. All fallen. Rocket and breeches buoy and lifeboat. Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out of that and not get on her nerves, no hour to be out, and the little brats of twins. 

Molly drawing on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. Munro and h. T. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. And her take me to rests and her anker of rum. Rumbold, master barber, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, a rope coiled over his shoulder, mounts the block. Not to speak of hostels, leperyards, sweating chambers, plaguegraves, their greatest doctors, the O'Shiels, the O'Hickeys, the O'Lees, have sedulously set down the divers methods by which the sick and the relapsed found again health whether the malady had been the trembling withering or loose boyconnell flux. 

Bold hand: mrs Marion. Did I forget to write address on that letter like the postcard I sent to Flynn? And the day I went to drimmie's without a necktie. Knock at the door. Bloom: nes. Pflaap! Shouldering the lamp he staggers away through the crowd with his flaring cresset. 

Snakes of river fog creep slowly. Says Joe. Munro and h. T. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. He wrote me an anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband was in the north riding of tipperary on the munster circuit, signed James lovebirch. Wiped his nose in curtain too. Must be seen to be believed. No harm in him. Just a few. Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves. Aroma rises, a strong hairgrowth of resin. 

And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? I beg your parsnips, says Alf. 

The lonely house by the graveyard is uninhabited. No soul will live there. He lay but opened a red eye unsleeping, deep and slowly breathing, slumberous but awake. And far on kish bank the anchored lightship twinkled, winked at Mr. Bloom. I thought we were bad here. A life preserver and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in his belt. And her take me to rests and her anker of rum. He's as like it as damn it. Mona, my true love. Yook. Mona, my own love. Knock at the door. J., and every male that's born they think it may be their messiah. Buccinator muscle is... Ruin them. There's no-one as blind as the fellow that won't see, if you know what that means. Because, you see, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition. 

That's the whole secret. He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. His thumbs are stuck in his armpits and his palms outspread. O thing of prudent nation not merely in being seen but also even in being related worthy of being praised that they her by anticipation went seeing mother, that she by them suddenly to be about to be cherished had been begun she felt! He's an excellent man to organise. 

Stephen: (with an effort.) interval which. Do fish ever get seasick? The new I want. For they were right witty scholars. Come on you winefizzling, ginsizzling, booseguzzling existences! Come on, you dog-gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed fourflushers, false alarms and excess baggage! Richie, admiring, descanted on that man's glorious voice. He remembered one night long ago. Walk now. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. She looked fine. Come on to blazes, said blazes Boylan, going. The referee twice cautioned pucking percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch. Anarchist. Wiped his nose in curtain too. Yes. Must be seen to be believed. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, o gluepot. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. Loud. Three holes, all women. 

Bat again. High, a high note pealed in the treble clear. I beg your parsnips, says Alf. Fine! Got a prime pair of mincepies, no kid. He's as like it as damn it. No. The windscreen of that motorcar in the sun there. 

Get up. By graham lemon's pineapple rock, by elvery's elephant jingly jogged. 

Where did I put the letter? Yes, bronze from anearby. Bye for today. 

P.; the Rev. J. Says I. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. Good man, Simon. In nomine domini, in God's name he knelt. 

(He turns to a figure in the crowd, appealing.) hynes, may I speak to you? Imitate pa. Young student. She looked fine. The two fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high. The referee twice cautioned pucking percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch. Wiped his nose in curtain too. Custom his country perhaps. Here, Simon, I'll accompany you, he said. Get up. Still it was a kind of language between us. Mrs. Donnelly bade the children be quiet and listen to maria's song. Too much of this. I will arise and go to my. Stopped. Miss Douce, engaging, lydia Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, george lidwell, gentleman, entering. K. Buy paper. Daly's. Girl there civil. Must be seen to be believed. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, o gluepot. Faces were there; eyes: they waited and watched. Apocalypse. 

To Wexford, we are the boys of Wexford, he would. Mona, my true love. Twopence each, the huckster said. Four for sixpence. 

Sp.; the Rev. I didn't know what was up and Alf kept making signs out of the door. Binding too good probably. For that matter so are we. 

Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. 

Stunned like, seeing as how no shiners is acoming. Underconstumble? Keep in condition. No! We drive them headlong! Lo! We charge! She would make the great sacrifice. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. Dreck! (Henry Flower combs his moustache and beard rapidly with a pocketcomb and gives a cow's lick to his hair. I'm off, said Boylan with impatience. He slid his chalice brisk away, grasped his change. Bold hand: mrs Marion. First watch: infernal machine with a time fuse. 

Bloom: no, no. To her nothing already then and thenceforward was anyway able to be molestful for this chiefly felt all citizens except with proliferent mothers prosperity at all not to can be and as they had received eternity gods mortals generation to befit them her beholding, when the case was so hoving itself, parturient in vehicle thereward carrying desire immense among all one another was impelling on of her to be received into that domicile. O thing of prudent nation not merely in being seen but also even in being related worthy of being praised that they her by anticipation went seeing mother, that she by them suddenly to be about to be cherished had been begun she felt! Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. Dreck! (Henry Flower combs his moustache and beard rapidly with a pocketcomb and gives a cow's lick to his hair. 

The referee twice cautioned pucking percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch. Anarchist. Wiped his nose in curtain too. Feeling himself jostled by the students near him, he said to them: "I am curious to know now what he meant by that expression. S'Elp me, honest injun. Because he saw me on the polo ground of the phoenix park at the match all Ireland versus the rest of Ireland. Whatever statement you make, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence against you. Marion: welly? Mrs. Marion from this out, my dear man, when you speak to me. What rider is like him? Mount him on the camel or the boisterous buffalo the victory in a hack canter is still his. Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. Pearls. Drops. Humane methods. My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain slogger Dennehy of the inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob centaur. 

America, I said quietly, just like that. 

I wanted to tell you. Where's punch? Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out of that and not get on her nerves, no hour to be out, and the little brats of twins. 

Molly drawing on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. What's that like? No soul will live there. The spider pitches her web in the solitude. Munro and h. T. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. He wrote me an anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband was in the north riding of tipperary on the munster circuit, signed James lovebirch. S'Elp me, honest injun. Shiver my timbers if I had. 

This plebeian don juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. I have it still. I am watching you. At it again? A fair unsullied soul had called to him and, wretch that he was, how had he answered? No harm in him. Bat again. High, a high note pealed in the treble clear. What rider is like him? Rain. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Your corporosity sagaciating o k? Filling my belly with husks of swine. Too much of this. Lenehan walked on again. Stunned like, seeing as how no shiners is acoming. A form sprawled against a dustbin and muffled by its arm and hat snores, groans, grinding growling teeth, and snores again. On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones. Four for sixpence. Tattered pages. The shepherd's hour: the hour of folding: hour of tryst. Let him. Just close my eyes a moment. Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat. And Bloom with his but don't you see? O and that lotion mustn't forget. 

Pearls. Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. Some good matronly woman in a porkpie hat to mother him. Take him in tow, platter face and a large apron. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three shillings a pair, astonishing bargain. Ba. There he goes. Funny little beggar. Just a few. O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw dirty bracegirdle made me do love sticky we two naughty grace darling she him half past the bed met him pike hoses frillies for raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon senorita young eyes mulvey plump bubs me breadvan winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in her next her next. The voice of penance and of grief came slow, embellished, tremulous. That bloody old fool! Ten thousand pounds. 

Look at him, says he. Good man, Simon. Race there, race back to Ennis. Let him. Just close my eyes a moment. 

Look at him, says he. Good man, Simon. Clappyclapclap. I am watching you. At it again? A fair unsullied soul had called to him and, wretch that he was, how had he answered? He's an excellent man to organise. Because he saw me on the polo ground of the phoenix park at the match all Ireland versus the rest of Ireland. Whatever statement you make, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence against you. Marion: welly? 

Those today. I could not see. Stephano dedalo, alumno optimo, palmam ferenti. She swore to him as they mingled the salt streams of their tears that she would ever cherish his memory, that she would never forget her hero boy who went to his death with a song on his lips as if he were but going to a hurling match in Clonturk Park. 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 opportunity. 

She's singing, yes. Says Joe. Straight on her pins anyway not like the other. I will arise and go to my. He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. His thumbs are stuck in his armpits and his palms outspread. C. I was in Europe with kevin egan of Paris. 

You wouldn't see a trace of them or their language anywhere in Europe except in a cabinet d'aisance. Unwell in his abominable regions. Yooka. Night. 

I'D train him by kindness, so I would, if he was my dog. Go home. No. Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. Some good matronly woman in a porkpie hat to mother him. Take him in tow, platter face and a large apron. Rain. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. A cork and bottle. I'm sick of it. Filling my belly with husks of swine. Come on to blazes, said blazes Boylan, going. 

Still it was a kind of language between us. It couldn't be? No, Gerty they called her. First watch: infernal machine with a time fuse. Bloom: no, no. A thousand pounds reward. Cornfide. Not a word, says Joe. 

Order. Ventriloquise. 

Uff! Bloom: (his hand on the shoulder of the first watch.) my old dad too was a J. She would make the great sacrifice. Better late than never. Henry Gallant turns with pendant dewlap to the piano.) Stephen: (to himself.) play with your eyes shut. Imitate pa. Young student. Straight on her pins anyway not like the other. Such fleshy parts are the product of careful nurture. 

My wife and your wife. Fitter for him go home to the little sleepwalking bitch he married, mooney, the bumbailiff's daughter, mother kept a kip in hardwicke street, that used to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told me that was stopping there at two in the morning without a stitch on her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour. 

Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. Tossed to fat lips his chalice, drank off his chalice tiny, sucking the last fat violet syrupy drops. His spellbound eyes went after, after her gliding head as it went down the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmering, a spiky shell, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze with sunnier bronze. Yes, bronze from anearby. ... Grandfather ape gloating on a stolen hoard. F sharp major, Ben Dollard said. Bob Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords. You know why? Palm oil. Is that a fact? Remanded, says J. Says Joe. And says Bloom: what I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Ay, blazes, says Alf. Philip sober: (gaily.) c'etait le sacre pigeon, Philippe. Grandfather ape gloating on a stolen hoard. F sharp major, Ben Dollard said. Bob Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords. It's so hard to find one who. Eh? Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, o gluepot. Walk now. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. 

Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. Says Joe. And says Bloom: what I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Ay, blazes, says Alf. Was it you did it, Alf? (H. Rumbold, master barber, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, a rope coiled over his shoulder, mounts the block. I beg your parsnips, says Alf. Ben my chree! A voice: hold that fellow with the bad breeches. 

Jacky! My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain slogger Dennehy of the inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob centaur. This plebeian don juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. I have it still. Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. Knock at the door. Bloom: nes. Henry: (caressing on his breast a severed female head, murmurs.) thine heart, mine love. Fr. Queens of Dublin society. She looked fine. He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled the girl with the three pairs of stays. She would make the great sacrifice. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. 

(He turns to a figure in the crowd, appealing.) hynes, may I speak to you? You know me. Eh? I am watching you. At it again? A fair unsullied soul had called to him and, wretch that he was, how had he answered? Is the bright particular star, isn't she? Says Joe. Feeling himself jostled by the students near him, he said to them: "I am curious to know now what he meant by that expression. S'Elp me, honest injun. Four for sixpence. Tattered pages. He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. 

(H. Rumbold, master barber, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, a rope coiled over his shoulder, mounts the block. A life preserver and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in his belt. Walk now. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. Bloom: (enthusiastically.) a noble work! I scolded that tramdriver on harold's cross bridge for illusing the poor horse with his harness scab. Bad french I got for my pains. Bloom: (looks behind.) she often said she'd like to visit. Yes, says J. J., and every male that's born they think it may be their messiah. Buccinator muscle is... Ruin them. He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. His thumbs are stuck in his armpits and his palms outspread. And says Bloom: what I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Like kids your second visit to a house. He gulped down the spittle in his throat as if he were gulping down the phrase and, fumbling at the peak of his tweed cap, turned to Stephen, saying: "excuse me, sir, what do you mean by that expression you uttered just now? Feeling himself jostled by the students near him, he said to them: "I am curious to know now what he meant by that expression. Underconstumble? Slide. Grave Bloom regards Zoe's neck. 

Slide. Grave Bloom regards Zoe's neck. Henry Gallant turns with pendant dewlap to the piano.) Stephen: (to himself.) play with your eyes shut. Imitate pa. My wife and your wife. 

That's the whole secret. Rely on me, says Joe. Richie, admiring, descanted on that man's glorious voice. Who? Says I. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. Slide. Grave Bloom regards Zoe's neck. Pflaap! Tally ho. You not come? Run, skelter, race. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. 

Mona, my own love. Knock at the door. Bloom: nes. Underconstumble? Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her with faith and constancy can never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge for the afflicted because of the seven dolours which transpierced her own heart. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue banners of the blessed virgin's sodality and father conroy was helping canon O'Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. She would make the great sacrifice. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. Rumbold, master barber, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, a rope coiled over his shoulder, mounts the block. 

(A firm heelclacking tread is heard on the stairs.) Bloom: (takes the chocolate.) aphrodisiac? Tansy and pennyroyal. But I bought it. Did I forget to write address on that letter like the postcard I sent to Flynn? And the day I went to drimmie's without a necktie. 

Take him in tow, platter face and a large apron. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three shillings a pair, astonishing bargain. A form sprawled against a dustbin and muffled by its arm and hat snores, groans, grinding growling teeth, and snores again. On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones. Faces were there; eyes: they waited and watched. We are met here as friends, in the spirit of good-fellowship, as colleagues, also to a certain extent, in the true spirit of camaraderie, and as the guests of "what shall I call them? The three graces of the Dublin musical world." the table burst into applause and laughter at this allusion. Sp.; the Rev. Whatever statement you make, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence against you. Marion: welly? Mrs. Marion from this out, my dear man, when you speak to me. There's no-one as blind as the fellow that won't see, if you know what that means. Come upstairs for goodness' sake till I sit down somewhere. Says I. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. Stephen went down bedford row, the handle of the ash clacking against his shoulderblade. No! We drive them headlong! Musical. Not to speak of hostels, leperyards, sweating chambers, plaguegraves, their greatest doctors, the O'Shiels, the O'Hickeys, the O'Lees, have sedulously set down the divers methods by which the sick and the relapsed found again health whether the malady had been the trembling withering or loose boyconnell flux. Must be seen to be believed. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, o gluepot. Faces were there; eyes: they waited and watched. We are met here as friends, in the spirit of good-fellowship, as colleagues, also to a certain extent, in the true spirit of camaraderie, and as the guests of"what shall I call them?"the three graces of the Dublin musical world." the table burst into applause and laughter at this allusion. Is the bright particular star, isn't she? Says Joe. Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. Always want to be swilling in company. Gift of nature. Ventriloquise. A last lonely candle wandered up the sky from mirus bazaar in search of funds for mercer's hospital and broke, drooping, and shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. They floated, fell: they faded. 

Jacky! Richie goulding: he's another. Weighs on his mind. Funny my watch stopped at half past four. Shouldering the lamp he staggers away through the crowd with his flaring cresset. Snakes of river fog creep slowly. Says Joe. 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. Good afternoon. M'Coy's white face smiled about it at instants and grew grave. Remanded, says J. Says Joe. And says Bloom: what I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Ay, blazes, says Alf. No soul will live there. The spider pitches her web in the solitude. 

Rumbold, master barber, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, a rope coiled over his shoulder, mounts the block. A life preserver and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in his belt. He wears a dark mantle and drooping plumed sombrero. I thought we were bad here. I smiled at him. Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. Always want to be swilling in company. Afraid to be alone like a child of two. The preacher took a chainless watch from a pocket within his soutane and, having considered its dial for a moment in silence, placed it silently before him on the table. Mona, my true love. Yook. Mona, my own love. Knock at the door. Mount him on the camel or the boisterous buffalo the victory in a hack canter is still his. Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. Benedicat vos omnipotens deus, pater et filius. A make, mister. Buttered toast. O and that lotion mustn't forget. Rain. She would make the great sacrifice. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. 

See real beauty of the eye when she not speaks. Jacky! Slide. Grave Bloom regards Zoe's neck. Henry Gallant turns with pendant dewlap to the piano.) Stephen: (to himself.) play with your eyes shut. Imitate pa. Hydrochlor. Bronzedouce communing with her rose that sank and rose sought blazes Boylan's flower and eyes. O and that lotion mustn't forget. 

Yes, all right. Or? No. Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. Hey? Sign on long O' me. Coastguards too. Loud. Imitate pa. Filling my belly with husks of swine. Too much of this. Just a few. O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw dirty bracegirdle made me do love sticky we two naughty grace darling she him half past the bed met him pike hoses frillies for raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon senorita young eyes mulvey plump bubs me breadvan winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in her next her next. The voice of penance and of grief came slow, embellished, tremulous. Ben's contrite beard confessed. Young student. Straight on her pins anyway not like the other. Still she was game. Not to speak of hostels, leperyards, sweating chambers, plaguegraves, their greatest doctors, the O'Shiels, the O'Hickeys, the O'Lees, have sedulously set down the divers methods by which the sick and the relapsed found again health whether the malady had been the trembling withering or loose boyconnell flux. Certainly in every public work which in it anything of gravity contains preparation should be with importance commensurate and therefore a plan was by them adopted (whether by having preconsidered or as the maturation of experience it is difficult in being said which the discrepant opinions of subsequent inquirers are not up to the present congrued to render manifest) whereby maternity was so far from all accident possibility removed that whatever care the patient in that allhardest of woman hour chiefly required and not solely for the copiously opulent but also for her who not being sufficiently moneyed scarcely and often not even scarcely could subsist valiantly and for an inconsiderable emolument was provided. 

Postal order, stamp. Postoffice lower down. Was it you did it, Alf? No. The windscreen of that motorcar in the sun there. He scratches himself with crossed arms at his ribs, grimacing, and exclaims:) I'm suffering the agony of the damned. Snakes of river fog creep slowly. First watch: infernal machine with a time fuse. Bloom: no, no. Then you have a beautiful calm without a cloud, smooth sea, placid, crew and cargo in smithereens, davy jones' locker, moon looking down so peaceful. Weeping willow. Ba. The shepherd's hour: the hour of folding: hour of tryst. From house to house, giving his everwelcome double knock, went the nine O'clock postman, the glowworm's lamp at his belt gleaming here and there through the laurel hedges. 

T. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. Eh? I am watching you. Get up. By graham lemon's pineapple rock, by elvery's elephant jingly jogged. Bloom: (his hand on the shoulder of the first watch.) my old dad too was a J. She would make the great sacrifice. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. Dreck! (Henry Flower combs his moustache and beard rapidly with a pocketcomb and gives a cow's lick to his hair. Yes, I remember. And not few and of these was young lynch were in doubt that the world was now right evil governed as it was never other howbeit the mean people believed it otherwise but the law nor his judges did provide no remedy. Ba. There he goes. Funny little beggar. Postal order, stamp. Was it you did it, Alf? 

Says Joe. Nit. I do well. Outside the Dublin distillers company's stores an outside car without fare or jarvey stood, the reins knotted to the wheel. Damn dangerous thing. Second watch: (points to the corner.) the bomb is here. (Edy boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws her shawl across her nostrils.) Edy Boardman: (bickering.) and says the one: I seen you up faithful place with your squarepusher, the greaser off the railway, in his cometobed hat. When you feel like that you often meet what you feel. Though our ages. The honourable mrs mervyn talboys: (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.) also me. She looked fine. He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled the girl with the three pairs of stays. 

Three and eleven she paid for those stockings in sparrow's of george's street on the tuesday, no the monday before easter and there wasn't a brack on them and that was what he was looking at, transparent, and not at her insignificant ones that had neither shape nor form (the cheek of her!) because he had eyes in his head to see the difference for himself. 

Cissy came up along the strand with the two twins and their ball with her hat anyhow on her to one side after her run and she did look a streel tugging the two kids along with the flimsy blouse she bought only a fortnight before like a rag on her back and a bit of her petticoat hanging like a caricature. Musical. A last lonely candle wandered up the sky from mirus bazaar in search of funds for mercer's hospital and broke, drooping, and shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. They floated, fell: they faded. Bad french I got for my pains. Bloom: (looks behind.) she often said she'd like to visit. Some good matronly woman in a porkpie hat to mother him. Take him in tow, platter face and a large apron. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three shillings a pair, astonishing bargain. I will arise and go to my. He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. 

His thumbs are stuck in his armpits and his palms outspread. A voice: hold that fellow with the bad breeches. Ben Dollard: (smites his thigh in abundant laughter.) hold him now. Let everything rip. Same style of beauty. Particularly nice old party for a cup of tea. What I mean is... T. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. Five, seven, nine. And he heard their aresouns each gen other as touching birth and righteousness, young madden maintaining that put such case it were hard the wife to die (for so it had fallen out a matter of some year agone with a woman of eblana in horne's house that now was trespassed out of this world and the self night next before her death all leeches and pothecaries had taken counsel of her case). What rider is like him? Must be seen to be believed. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, o gluepot. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. I wanted to tell you. Tom Rochford... Come on to blazes, said blazes Boylan, going. Lenehan gulped to go. What was it? Martin Cunningham asked, as they went on up the staircase. His spellbound eyes went after, after her gliding head as it went down the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmering, a spiky shell, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze with sunnier bronze. When you feel like that you often meet what you feel. Though our ages. Will write fully tomorrow. O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw dirty bracegirdle made me do love sticky we two naughty grace darling she him half past the bed met him pike hoses frillies for raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon senorita young eyes mulvey plump bubs me breadvan winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in her next her next. The voice of penance and of grief came slow, embellished, tremulous. A thousand pounds reward. Cornfide. Wha gev ye thon colt? He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. His thumbs are stuck in his armpits and his palms outspread. 

And begob what was it only that bloody old pantaloon denis breen in his bathslippers with two bloody big books tucked under his oxter and the wife hotfoot after him, unfortunate wretched woman, trotting like a poodle. Taking a man from another woman. Blow gentle. Loud. Night. Was it you did it, Alf? Says Joe. Nit. Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. Benedicat vos omnipotens deus, pater et filius. Slide. Grave Bloom regards Zoe's neck. I have it still. 

Aroma rises, a strong hairgrowth of resin. Ventriloquise. My lips closed. Apocalypse. Licking pennies. Girl in tranquilla convent that nun told me liked to smell rock oil. Because, you see, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition. That's the whole secret. T. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. He wrote me an anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband was in the north riding of tipperary on the munster circuit, signed James lovebirch. Also a shop often noticed. Howth settled for slumber, tired of long days, of yumyum rhododendrons (he was old) and felt gladly the night breeze lift, ruffle his fell of ferns. Imitate pa. Filling my belly with husks of swine. Too much of this. By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to Jesus those funny little chaps are not unanimous. My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain slogger Dennehy of the inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob centaur. This plebeian don juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. I have it still. At it again? A fair unsullied soul had called to him and, wretch that he was, how had he answered? Humane methods. My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain slogger Dennehy of the inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob centaur. This plebeian don juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. I smiled at him. America, I said quietly, just like that. I wanted to tell you. Tom Rochford... Tom Rochford... Come on to blazes, said blazes Boylan, going. Twopence each, the huckster said. Four for sixpence. 

And her take me to rests and her anker of rum. Then you have a beautiful calm without a cloud, smooth sea, placid, crew and cargo in smithereens, davy jones' locker, moon looking down so peaceful. 

This plebeian don juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. 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. Go to hell! Munro and h. Obviously mammal in weight of bosom you remark that she has in front well to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the noonday soupplate, while on her rere lower down are two additional protuberances, suggestive of potent rectum and tumescent for palpation, which leave nothing to be desired save compactness. Such fleshy parts are the product of careful nurture. Musical. Not to speak of hostels, leperyards, sweating chambers, plaguegraves, their greatest doctors, the O'Shiels, the O'Hickeys, the O'Lees, have sedulously set down the divers methods by which the sick and the relapsed found again health whether the malady had been the trembling withering or loose boyconnell flux. 

A life preserver and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in his belt. He wears a dark mantle and drooping plumed sombrero. Miss Douce, engaging, lydia Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, george lidwell, gentleman, entering. Good afternoon. M'Coy's white face smiled about it at instants and grew grave. Or? No. Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. Some good matronly woman in a porkpie hat to mother him. Where's punch? All serene. Jay, look at the drunken minister coming out of the maternity hospal! Woodwind like Goodwin's name. She looked fine. He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled the girl with the three pairs of stays. Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. She looked fine. I was in Europe with kevin egan of Paris. 

You wouldn't see a trace of them or their language anywhere in Europe except in a cabinet d'aisance. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her with faith and constancy can never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge for the afflicted because of the seven dolours which transpierced her own heart. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue banners of the blessed virgin's sodality and father conroy was helping canon O'Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. 

He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled the girl with the three pairs of stays. Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. Yes, I believe it is the same objectionable person. Such fleshy parts are the product of careful nurture. Ora pro nobis. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her with faith and constancy can never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge for the afflicted because of the seven dolours which transpierced her own heart. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue banners of the blessed virgin's sodality and father conroy was helping canon O'Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. Pearls. Drops. No harm in him. Just a few. 

Henry: (caressing on his breast a severed female head, murmurs.) thine heart, mine love. Fr. Come upstairs for goodness' sake till I sit down somewhere. 

Uff! Bloom: (his hand on the shoulder of the first watch.) my old dad too was a J. Ben Dollard: (smites his thigh in abundant laughter.) hold him now. Henry: (caressing on his breast a severed female head, murmurs.) thine heart, mine love. Custom his country perhaps. That's music too. Where's punch? All serene. Drops. Rain. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. 

No eunuch yet with all his belongings. Listen. Slide. Grave Bloom regards Zoe's neck. 

Henry Gallant turns with pendant dewlap to the piano.) Stephen: (to himself.) play with your eyes shut. And, my word, didn't the little chap enjoy that! Pearls. Drops. Rain. Because he saw me on the polo ground of the phoenix park at the match all Ireland versus the rest of Ireland. Whatever statement you make, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence against you. Marion: welly? The two fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high. The referee twice cautioned pucking percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch. Anarchist. Then the roman candle burst and it was like a sigh of o! Gift of nature. Ventriloquise. Postal order, stamp. Postoffice lower down. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue banners of the blessed virgin's sodality and father conroy was helping canon O'Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out of that and not get on her nerves, no hour to be out, and the little brats of twins. Molly drawing on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. Postal order, stamp. By screens of lighted windows, by equal gardens a shrill voice went crying, wailing: evening telegraph, stop press edition! Zoe: and more's mother? (She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws.) are you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola? Get up. By graham lemon's pineapple rock, by elvery's elephant jingly jogged. Look at him, says he. Stephen went down bedford row, the handle of the ash clacking against his shoulderblade. No! No harm in him. Just a few. Where did I put the letter? Yes, all right. Must be seen to be believed. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, o gluepot. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. She's singing, yes. Says Joe. Remanded, says J. Says Joe. Just a few. O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw dirty bracegirdle made me do love sticky we two naughty grace darling she him half past the bed met him pike hoses frillies for raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon senorita young eyes mulvey plump bubs me breadvan winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in her next her next. Pig's feet. A boy. A croppy boy. Bronze, listening, by the beerpull gazed far away. Infatuated. I like that? See her from here though. Most brutal thing. What do they say was the cause? God they believe she is: or Goddess. 

Those today. Slide. Grave Bloom regards Zoe's neck. Imitate pa. Young student. Come on you winefizzling, ginsizzling, booseguzzling existences! Come on, you dog-gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed fourflushers, false alarms and excess baggage! In saddles of the leaders, leaping leaders, rode outriders. What was it? 

Not a word, says Joe. Order. Yes, I remember. He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. 

Solomon did. Gift of nature. I could have sworn it was him. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? 

Look at him, says he. Particularly nice old party for a cup of tea. Get up. By graham lemon's pineapple rock, by elvery's elephant jingly jogged. Binding too good probably. For that matter so are we. Yes, says J. Underconstumble? Keep in condition. 

(A firm heelclacking tread is heard on the stairs.) Bloom: (takes the chocolate.) aphrodisiac? He remembered one night long ago. Spit in your own eye, boss! 

No eunuch yet with all his belongings. Listen. Must be seen to be believed. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, o gluepot. Faces were there; eyes: they waited and watched. We are met here as friends, in the spirit of good-fellowship, as colleagues, also to a certain extent, in the true spirit of camaraderie, and as the guests of"what shall I call them?"the three graces of the Dublin musical world." the table burst into applause and laughter at this allusion. He carries a silverstringed inlaid dulcimer and a longstemmed bamboo jacob's pipe, its clay bowl fashioned as a female head. 

No harm in him. Just a few. O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw dirty bracegirdle made me do love sticky we two naughty grace darling she him half past the bed met him pike hoses frillies for raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon senorita young eyes mulvey plump bubs me breadvan winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in her next her next. It was a fight to a finish and the best man for it. You wouldn't see a trace of them or their language anywhere in Europe except in a cabinet d'aisance. You know why? High, a high note pealed in the treble clear. Pearls. Drops. All fallen. At the siege of Ross his father, at gorey all his brothers fell. To Wexford, we are the boys of Wexford, he would. Mona, my true love. Pearls. Drops. Rain. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? I beg your parsnips, says Alf. Ben my chree! A voice: hold that fellow with the bad breeches. A make, mister. The denzille lane boys. Wonder who's playing. Nice touch. Ben Dollard: (smites his thigh in abundant laughter.) hold him now. Henry: (caressing on his breast a severed female head, murmurs.) thine heart, mine love. Fr. 

Yes, says J. J., and every male that's born they think it may be their messiah. Buccinator muscle is... 

Weeping willow. Ba. There he goes. His spellbound eyes went after, after her gliding head as it went down the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmering, a spiky shell, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze with sunnier bronze. Yes, bronze from anearby. ... None of your lean kine, not much. Pull down the blind, love. (H. Rumbold, master barber, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, a rope coiled over his shoulder, mounts the block. He gulped down the spittle in his throat as if he were gulping down the phrase and, fumbling at the peak of his tweed cap, turned to Stephen, saying: "excuse me, sir, what do you mean by that expression you uttered just now? Feeling himself jostled by the students near him, he said to them: "I am curious to know now what he meant by that expression. Let everything rip. Same style of beauty. Particularly nice old party for a cup of tea. Bloom: nes. Pflaap! Tally ho. I have moved in the charmed circle of the highest... Queens of Dublin society. Sign on long O' me. Coastguards too. It was held to be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase sadgrove v. It's so hard to find one who. (Satirically.) has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long? A cork and bottle. I'm sick of it. Let everything rip. Wrangle with molly it was put me off. The honourable mrs mervyn talboys: very much so! I'll make it hot for you. I'll make you dance jack latten for that. My lips closed. Apocalypse. Kitty: and Mary shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from jimmy pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral. Slide left foot one pace back! From house to house, giving his everwelcome double knock, went the nine O'clock postman, the glowworm's lamp at his belt gleaming here and there through the laurel hedges. And among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp at Leahy's terrace. He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled the girl with the three pairs of stays. Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. Yes, I believe it is the same objectionable person. Mrs. b. Is the bright particular star, isn't she? Says Joe. Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. P.; the Rev. J. Flanagan, c. Because he saw me on the polo ground of the phoenix park at the match all Ireland versus the rest of Ireland. That bloody old fool! Ten thousand pounds. (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. For this relief much thanks. Munro and h. T. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. Benedicat vos omnipotens deus, pater et filius. No harm in him. God's truth, says Alf. I heard that from the head warder that was in Kilmainham when they hanged Joe Brady, the invincible. Bloom: (enthusiastically.) a noble work! 

Please, please. He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. His spellbound eyes went after, after her gliding head as it went down the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmering, a spiky shell, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze with sunnier bronze. Yes, bronze from anearby. ... I have moved in the charmed circle of the highest... I thought Alf would split. Look at him, says he. Good man, Simon. Clappyclapclap. 

Richie, admiring, descanted on that man's glorious voice. Still it was a kind of language between us. It couldn't be? No, Gerty they called her. 

Don't tell me! Nice adviser! Bloom: because it didn't suit you one quarter as well as the other ducky little tammy toque with the bird of paradise wing in it that I admired on you and you honestly looked just too fetching in it though it was a pity to kill it, you cruel naughty creature, little mite of a thing with a heart the size of a fullstop. Old Russell with a smeared shammy rag burnished again his gem, turned it and held it at the point of his moses' beard. Grandfather ape gloating on a stolen hoard. They floated, fell: they faded. (A firm heelclacking tread is heard on the stairs.) Bloom: (takes the chocolate.) aphrodisiac? Tansy and pennyroyal. But I bought it. Only the harp. Lovely. Take him in tow, platter face and a large apron. Munro and h. T. Mrs. Yelverton Barry: (in lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) arrest him, constable. He wrote me an anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband was in the north riding of tipperary on the munster circuit, signed James lovebirch. Solomon did. Bye for today. Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat. And Bloom with his but don't you see? 

The referee twice cautioned pucking percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch. Anarchist. Fitter for him go home to the little sleepwalking bitch he married, mooney, the bumbailiff's daughter, mother kept a kip in hardwicke street, that used to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told me that was stopping there at two in the morning without a stitch on her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour. Mrs. B. Is the bright particular star, isn't she? Says Joe. All serene. Jay, look at the drunken minister coming out of the maternity hospal! Benedicat vos omnipotens deus, pater et filius. Got a prime pair of mincepies, no kid. 

Yes, all right. Musical. Not to speak of hostels, leperyards, sweating chambers, plaguegraves, their greatest doctors, the O'Shiels, the O'Hickeys, the O'Lees, have sedulously set down the divers methods by which the sick and the relapsed found again health whether the malady had been the trembling withering or loose boyconnell flux. 

Certainly in every public work which in it anything of gravity contains preparation should be with importance commensurate and therefore a plan was by them adopted (whether by having preconsidered or as the maturation of experience it is difficult in being said which the discrepant opinions of subsequent inquirers are not up to the present congrued to render manifest) whereby maternity was so far from all accident possibility removed that whatever care the patient in that allhardest of woman hour chiefly required and not solely for the copiously opulent but also for her who not being sufficiently moneyed scarcely and often not even scarcely could subsist valiantly and for an inconsiderable emolument was provided. God's truth, says Alf. I heard that from the head warder that was in Kilmainham when they hanged Joe Brady, the invincible. Ruin them. Wreck their lives. Postal order, stamp. Night. Licking pennies. The spider pitches her web in the solitude. Ware hawks for the chap puking. Your corporosity sagaciating o k? So howandever, as I was saying, the old dog seeing the tin was empty starts mousing around by Joe and me. I'd train him by kindness, so I would, if he was my dog. Go home. You not come? Run, skelter, race. Old Russell with a smeared shammy rag burnished again his gem, turned it and held it at the point of his moses' beard. High, a high note pealed in the treble clear. What rider is like him? And he shouting to the bloody dog: after him, garry! And then a rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and o! Bloom: (enthusiastically.) a noble work! I scolded that tramdriver on harold's cross bridge for illusing the poor horse with his harness scab. Bad french I got for my pains. Write the stars and stripes on it! Mrs. Yelverton Barry: disgraceful! There's no excuse for him! I won't go. (A firm heelclacking tread is heard on the stairs.) Bloom: (takes the chocolate.) aphrodisiac? Tansy and pennyroyal. I could have sworn it was him. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? 

I beg your parsnips, says Alf. Infatuated. I like that? See her from here though. Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. You're a rogue and I'm another. I could have sworn it was him. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? For this relief much thanks. The lonely house by the graveyard is uninhabited. Aroma rises, a strong hairgrowth of resin. A chain of children 's hands imprisons him.) the children: kithogue! Salute! I could have sworn it was him. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? Wreck their lives. Then build them cubicles to end their days in. 

All prick and no pence. (Edy boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws her shawl across her nostrils.) Edy Boardman: (bickering.) and says the one: I seen you up faithful place with your squarepusher, the greaser off the railway, in his cometobed hat. When you feel like that you often meet what you feel. Though our ages. Also a shop often noticed. Better late than never. Licking pennies. Girl in tranquilla convent that nun told me liked to smell rock oil. C. I was in Europe with kevin egan of Paris. You wouldn't see a trace of them or their language anywhere in Europe except in a cabinet d'aisance. You know why? All fallen. At the siege of Ross his father, at gorey all his brothers fell. To Wexford, we are the boys of Wexford, he would. Mona, my true love. Grandfather ape gloating on a stolen hoard. F sharp major, Ben Dollard said. I like that? Tom Rochford... Come on to blazes, said blazes Boylan, going. Twopence each, the huckster said. They floated, fell: they faded. 

All kinds of crazy longings. Most brutal thing. Imitate pa. Rumbold, master barber, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, a rope coiled over his shoulder, mounts the block. A life preserver and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in his belt. Her first stays I remember. God they believe she is: or Goddess. I beg your parsnips, says Alf. Ben my chree! A voice: hold that fellow with the bad breeches. (A firm heelclacking tread is heard on the stairs.) Bloom: (takes the chocolate.) aphrodisiac? Tansy and pennyroyal. By graham lemon's pineapple rock, by elvery's elephant jingly jogged. 

Where did I put the letter? I'm off, said Boylan with impatience. He slid his chalice brisk away, grasped his change. And Bloom with his but don't you see? And but on the other hand. Mr. Hynes sat down again on the table. My wife and your wife. Clappyclapclap. Encore! Clapclipclap clap. 

I smiled at him. America, I said quietly, just like that. Wonder who's playing. Nice touch. Must be Cowley. Lenehan walked on again. Grave Bloom regards Zoe's neck. 

Henry Gallant turns with pendant dewlap to the piano.) Stephen: (to himself.) play with your eyes shut. Imitate pa. Musical. What's that? F sharp major, Ben Dollard said. Bob Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords. Come on to blazes, said blazes Boylan, going. 

Twopence each, the huckster said. Lenehan walked on again. Stunned like, seeing as how no shiners is acoming. Underconstumble? 

To Wexford, we are the boys of Wexford, he would. Imitate pa. A cork and bottle. Kitty: and Mary shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from jimmy pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. This plebeian don juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. This plebeian don juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. I smiled at him. America, I said quietly, just like that. (H. Rumbold, master barber, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, a rope coiled over his shoulder, mounts the block. Keep in condition. Come upstairs for goodness' sake till I sit down somewhere. Rain. Bloom: (bitterly.) man and woman, love, what is it? Mrs. b. Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? Gift of nature. Particularly nice old party for a cup of tea. Or? I didn't know what was up and Alf kept making signs out of the door. And begob what was it only that bloody old pantaloon denis breen in his bathslippers with two bloody big books tucked under his oxter and the wife hotfoot after him, unfortunate wretched woman, trotting like a poodle. A boy. Marion: welly? Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, o gluepot. Her first stays I remember. Ben Dollard: (smites his thigh in abundant laughter.) hold him now. Come upstairs for goodness' sake till I sit down somewhere. 

Rain. By graham lemon's pineapple rock, by elvery's elephant jingly jogged. Damn dangerous thing. S'Elp me, honest injun. Bye for today. From house to house, giving his everwelcome double knock, went the nine O'clock postman, the glowworm's lamp at his belt gleaming here and there through the laurel hedges. And among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp at Leahy's terrace. Says Joe. Was it you did it, Alf? And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? Bloom: nes. His thumbs are stuck in his armpits and his palms outspread. A voice: hold that fellow with the bad breeches. Then she played the prelude and said "now, maria!" and maria, blushing very much began to sing in a tiny quavering voice. Imitate pa. See her from here though. Raimeis, says the citizen. All prick and no pence. God they believe she is: or Goddess. Imitate pa. Anarchist. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. 

God they believe she is: or Goddess. 

Bloom: (enthusiastically.) a noble work! Please, please. Come on you winefizzling, ginsizzling, booseguzzling existences! Come on, you dog-gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed fourflushers, false alarms and excess baggage! Marion: welly? Same style of beauty. Come on, you dog-gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed fourflushers, false alarms and excess baggage! Imitate pa. I could have sworn it was him. At the siege of Ross his father, at gorey all his brothers fell. At the siege of Ross his father, at gorey all his brothers fell. Imitate pa. Musical. He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. Yook. I have it still. Mona, my own love. Says Joe. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue banners of the blessed virgin's sodality and father conroy was helping canon O'Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. Walk now. What I mean is... Rumbold, master barber, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, a rope coiled over his shoulder, mounts the block. 

Get up. What rider is like him? Mount him on the camel or the boisterous buffalo the victory in a hack canter is still his. And not few and of these was young lynch were in doubt that the world was now right evil governed as it was never other howbeit the mean people believed it otherwise but the law nor his judges did provide no remedy. 

Girl in tranquilla convent that nun told me liked to smell rock oil. Wreck their lives. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. God they believe she is: or Goddess. Imitate pa. A cork and bottle. He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled the girl with the three pairs of stays. For this relief much thanks. 

Walk now. (H. For that matter so are we. That's music too. He slid his chalice brisk away, grasped his change. 

He remembered one night long ago. Walk now. Here, Simon, I'll accompany you, he said. My lips closed. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? Yes, bronze from anearby. And begob what was it only that bloody old pantaloon denis breen in his bathslippers with two bloody big books tucked under his oxter and the wife hotfoot after him, unfortunate wretched woman, trotting like a poodle. The referee twice cautioned pucking percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch. Yes, bronze from anearby. Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: who said Christ is good? I beg your parsnips, says Alf. America, I said quietly, just like that. The new I want. For they were right witty scholars. What was it? Martin Cunningham asked, as they went on up the staircase. Damn dangerous thing. Most brutal thing. Young student. Straight on her pins anyway not like the other. Still she was game. A voice: hold that fellow with the bad breeches. 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. Mrs. b. I didn't know what was up and Alf kept making signs out of the door. Though our ages. 

Remanded, says J. Bye for today. At the siege of Ross his father, at gorey all his brothers fell. 

Here, Simon, I'll accompany you, he said. Imitate pa. See her from here though. Mrs. Bellingham: (in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) also to me. Ruin them. Wreck their lives. Come on, you dog-gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed fourflushers, false alarms and excess baggage! Imitate pa. I could have sworn it was him. Wiped his nose in curtain too. For this relief much thanks. The lonely house by the graveyard is uninhabited. Dreck! Because, you see, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition. 

Eh? 

He remembered one night long ago. Walk now. The two fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high. Come on you winefizzling, ginsizzling, booseguzzling existences! Come on, you dog-gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed fourflushers, false alarms and excess baggage! It was a fight to a finish and the best man for it. All fallen. Stunned like, seeing as how no shiners is acoming. Don't tell me! 

I like that? 

I don't want to indulge in any because you know the standard works on the subject and then orthodox as you are. But in the economic, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty. Spain again, you saw in the war, compared with goahead america. Turks. And E. Connery, proprietors), the National Library of Ireland, kildare street, the national maternity hospital, , and holles street, a public garden, the vicinity of a place of worship, a conjunction of two or more public thoroughfares, the point of bisection of a right line drawn between their residences (if both speakers were resident in different places). Yet, though such criminal propensities had never been an inmate of his bosom in any shape or form, he certainly did feel and no denying it (while inwardly remaining what he was) a certain kind of admiration for a man who had actually brandished a knife, cold steel, with the courage of his political convictions (though, personally, he would never be a party to any such thing), off the same bat as those love vendettas of the south, have her or swing for her, when the husband frequently, after some words passed between the two concerning her relations with the other lucky mortal (he having had the pair watched), inflicted fatal injuries on his adored one as a result of an alternative postnuptial liaison by plunging his knife into her, until it just struck him that fitz, nicknamed skin-the-goat, merely drove the car for the actual perpetrators of the outrage and so was not, if he was reliably informed, actually party to the ambush which, in point of fact, was the plea some legal luminary saved his skin on. Gospodi pomilyou. That's how the russians prays. 

Poldy kock, bootlaces a penny, cassidy's hag, blind stripling, larry rhinoceros, the girl, the woman, the whore, the other, the...) Bloom: don't ask me! Our mutual faith. Subsequently being not quite so down in the mouth after the two and six he got he informed Stephen about a fellow by the name of bags comisky that he said Stephen knew well out of fullam's, the shipchandler's, bookkeeper there that used to be often round in nagle's back with O'mara and a little chap with a stutter the name of tighe. Anyhow he was lagged the night before last and fined ten bob for a drunk and disorderly and refusing to go with the constable. Mr. Bloom in the meanwhile kept dodging about in the vicinity of the cobblestones near the brazier of coke in front of the corporation watchman's sentrybox who evidently a glutton for work, it struck him, was having a quiet forty winks for all intents and purposes on his own private account while Dublin slept. 

The women used to stand to look after him in the street. He heard the sob passing loudly down his father's throat and opened his eyes with a nervous impulse. The sunlight breaking suddenly on his sight turned the sky and clouds into a fantastic world of sombre masses with lakelike spaces of dark rosy light. 

What fragments of verse from the ancient hebrew and ancient Irish languages were cited with modulations of voice and translation of texts by guest to host and by host to guest? By Stephen: suil, suil, suil arun, suil go siocair agus suil go cuin (walk, walk, walk your way, walk in safety, walk with care). Whispering lovewords murmur, liplapping loudly, poppysmic plopslop.) mina kennedy: (her eyes upturned.) o, it must be like the scent of geraniums and lovely peaches! O, he simply idolises every bit of her! Stuck together! Stephen of course started rather dizzily and stopped to return the compliment. Mr. Bloom actuated by motives of inherent delicacy inasmuch as he always believed in minding his own business moved off but nevertheless remained on the qui vive with just a shade of anxiety though not funkyish in the least. Though unusual in the Dublin area he knew that it was not by any means unknown for desperadoes who had next to nothing to live on to be abroad waylaying and generally terrorising peaceable pedestrians by placing a pistol at their head in some secluded spot outside the city proper, famished loiterers of the thames embankment category they might be hanging about there or simply marauders ready to decamp with whatever boodle they could in one fell swoop at a moment's notice, your money or your life, leaving you there to point a moral, gagged and garrotted. Me. Are you not finished with him yet, suckeress? The youth who could not shiver and shake. (To Zoe.) who taught you palmistry? You had to come back. That haunting sense kind of drew you. 

Bloom: (pawing the heather abjectly.) o, I have been a perfect pig. Enemas too I have administered. 

They are in grey gauze with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the land breeze.) Maginni: avant huit! Traverse! Salut! 

A commode, one leg fractured, totally covered by square cretonne cutting, apple design, on which rested a lady's black straw hat. Mind your cornflowers. Wonderworker. Were there testimonials? Numerous. From clergyman, british naval officer, wellknown author, city man, hospital nurse, lady, mother of five, absentminded beggar. One fellow had a good voice, another fellow was a good actor, another could sing a good comic song, another was a good oarsman or a good racket player, another could tell a good story and so on. We kept the ball rolling anyhow and enjoyed ourselves and saw a bit of life and we were none the worse of it either. And assaulted my chum. (The retriever barks.) who owns the bleeding tyke? Cissy Caffrey: (with expectation.) is he bleeding! (She keens with banshee woe.) ochone! Ochone! Silk of the kine! (With sudden fervour.) for why should the dainty scented jewelled hand, the hand that rules...? That as a competent keyless citizen he had proceeded energetically from the unknown to the known through the incertitude of the void. In what order of precedence, with what attendant ceremony was the exodus from the house of bondage to the wilderness of inhabitation effected? 

Her sleeve falling from gracing arms, reveals a white fleshflower of vaccination. Between the curtains professor Maginni inserts a leg on the toepoint of which spins a silk hat. With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his crown and jauntyhatted skates in. What, boys? That give you a hardon? (He shoves his arm in a bidder's face.) here wet the deck and wipe it round! It's for business men, you know." "he won't be too hard on us, Tom," said Mr. Power persuasively. "Father Purdon? Father Purdon?" said the invalid. God, you've to book ahead, man, you'd think it was for the carl rosa. I don't give a shite anyway so long as I get a job, even as a crossing sweeper. There was lice in that bunk in bridgwater, he remarked, sure as nuts. I must get a wash tomorrow or next day. The pianola: best, best of all, baraabum! A child renamed padney socks she shook with shocks her moneybox: counted his three free moneypenny buttons, one, tloo, tlee: a doll, a boy, a sailor she cast away: blond, born of two dark, she had blond ancestry, remote, a violation, herr hauptmann hainau, austrian army, proximate, a hallucination, lieutenant mulvey, british navy. E., on the instructions of the waterworks committee had prohibited the use of municipal water for purposes other than those of consumption (envisaging the possibility of recourse being had to the impotable water of the grand and royal canals as in ) particularly as the south Dublin guardians, notwithstanding their ration of gallons per day per pauper supplied through a inch meter, had been convicted of a wastage of , gallons per night by a reading of their meter on the affirmation of the law agent of the corporation, Mr. ignatius rice, solicitor, thereby acting to the detriment of another section of the public, selfsupporting taxpayers, solvent, sound. What in water did Bloom, waterlover, drawer of water, watercarrier, returning to the range, admire? Its universality: its democratic equality and constancy to its nature in seeking its own level: its vastness in the ocean of mercator's projection: its unplumbed profundity in the sundam trench of the pacific exceeding fathoms: the restlessness of its waves and surface particles visiting in turn all points of its seaboard: the independence of its units: the variability of states of sea: its hydrostatic quiescence in calm: its hydrokinetic turgidity in neap and spring tides: its subsidence after devastation: its sterility in the circumpolar icecaps, arctic and antarctic: its climatic and commercial significance: its preponderance of to over the dry land of the globe: its indisputable hegemony extending in square leagues over all the region below the subequatorial tropic of capricorn: the multisecular stability of its primeval basin: its luteofulvous bed: its capacity to dissolve and hold in solution all soluble substances including millions of tons of the most precious metals: its slow erosions of peninsulas and islands, its persistent formation of homothetic islands, peninsulas and downwardtending promontories: its alluvial deposits: its weight and volume and density: its imperturbability in lagoons and highland tarns: its gradation of colours in the torrid and temperate and frigid zones: its vehicular ramifications in continental lakecontained streams and confluent oceanflowing rivers with their tributaries and transoceanic currents, gulfstream, north and south equatorial courses: its violence in seaquakes, waterspouts, artesian wells, eruptions, torrents, eddies, freshets, spates, groundswells, watersheds, waterpartings, geysers, cataracts, whirlpools, maelstroms, inundations, deluges, cloudbursts: its vast circumterrestrial ahorizontal curve: its secrecy in springs and latent humidity, revealed by rhabdomantic or hygrometric instruments and exemplified by the well by the hole in the wall at ashtown gate, saturation of air, distillation of dew: the simplicity of its composition, two constituent parts of hydrogen with one constituent part of oxygen: its healing virtues: its buoyancy in the waters of the dead sea: its persevering penetrativeness in runnels, gullies, inadequate dams, leaks on shipboard: its properties for cleansing, quenching thirst and fire, nourishing vegetation: its infallibility as paradigm and paragon: its metamorphoses as vapour, mist, cloud, rain, sleet, snow, hail: its strength in rigid hydrants: its variety of forms in loughs and bays and gulfs and bights and guts and lagoons and atolls and archipelagos and sounds and fjords and minches and tidal estuaries and arms of sea: its solidity in glaciers, icebergs, icefloes: its docility in working hydraulic millwheels, turbines, dynamos, electric power stations, bleachworks, tanneries, scutchmills: its utility in canals, rivers, if navigable, floating and graving docks: its potentiality derivable from harnessed tides or watercourses falling from level to level: its submarine fauna and flora (anacoustic, photophobe), numerically, if not literally, the inhabitants of the globe: its ubiquity as constituting % of the human body: the noxiousness of its effluvia in lacustrine marshes, pestilential fens, faded flowerwater, stagnant pools in the waning moon. Kitty: wait. (She clutches the two crowns.) florry: and me? Lynch: hoopla! A. Wren,  bachelor's walk. What caused him irritation in his sitting posture? Inhibitory pressure of collar (size ) and waistcoat ( buttons), two articles of clothing superfluous in the costume of mature males and inelastic to alterations of mass by expansion. I fear his redrimmed horny eyes. It is with him I must struggle all through this night till day come, till he or I lie dead, gripping him by the sinewy throat till... One fellow had a good voice, another fellow was a good actor, another could sing a good comic song, another was a good oarsman or a good racket player, another could tell a good story and so on. We kept the ball rolling anyhow and enjoyed ourselves and saw a bit of life and we were none the worse of it either. A messenger came to the door to say that confessions were being heard in the chapel. And what's the number for? What proposal did Bloom, diambulist, father of Milly, somnambulist, make to Stephen, noctambulist? To pass in repose the hours intervening between thursday (proper) and friday (normal) on an extemporised cubicle in the apartment immediately above the kitchen and immediately adjacent to the sleeping apartment of his host and hostess. I'd carry a sandwichboard only the girl in the office told me they're full up for the next three weeks, man. God, you've to book ahead, man, you'd think it was for the carl rosa. I don't give a shite anyway so long as I get a job, even as a crossing sweeper. His postcard proved a centre of attraction for messrs the greenhorns for several minutes if not more. Know how to keep them off? From the left arrives a jingling hackney car. It slows to in front of the house. 

His father had told him, whatever he did, never to peach on a fellow. But why in the square? In what order of precedence, with what attendant ceremony was the exodus from the house of bondage to the wilderness of inhabitation effected? Lighted candle in stick borne by Bloom diaconal hat on ashplant borne by Stephen with what intonation secreto of what commemorative psalm? The th, modus peregrinus: in exitu Israel de Egypto: domus jacob de populo barbaro. Aloysius gonzaga), sunrise . a.m., sunset . p.m. Which domestic problem as much as, if not more than, any other frequently engaged his mind? What to do with our wives. What had been his hypothetical singular solutions? I know you, gammer! Hamlet, revenge! Lydia Douce: (her mouth opening.) yumyum. O, he's carrying her round the room doing it! Ride a cockhorse. Was the knowledge possessed by both of each of these languages, the extinct and the revived, theoretical or practical? Theoretical, being confined to certain grammatical rules of accidence and syntax and practically excluding vocabulary. Take a handful of hay and wipe yourself. Bella: I know you, canvasser! 

My dear son... Always... Shakespeare: (with paralytic rage.) weda seca whokilla farst. (The face of martin Cunningham, bearded, refeatures Shakespeare's beardless face. The marquee umbrella sways drunkenly, the children run aside. When we came away father told me he had a good honest eye. The fellows seemed to him to have grown smaller: that was because a sprinter had knocked him down the day before, a fellow out of second of grammar. He places a hand lightly on his breastbone, bows, and fondles his flower and buttons.) Maginni: the poetry of motion, art of calisthenics. 

No connection with Madam Legget Byrne's or levenston's. It heals and soothes while you sleep, in case of trouble in breaking wind, assists nature in the most formidable way, insuring instant relief in discharge of gases, keeping parts clean and free natural action, an initial outlay of / making a new man of you and life worth living. Ladies find wonderworker especially useful, a pleasant surprise when they note delightful result like a cool drink of fresh spring water on a sultry summer's day. 

And the air in the corridor chilled him too. The vowel was so modified as to be indistinct. "Father Purdon? I'll teach you to behave like a jinkleman! If I catch a trace on your swaddles. (Earnestly.) and really it's better the position... Because often I used to wet... We'Re square. Bella: (admiringly.) You're such a slyboots, old cocky. 

Maginni: les tiroirs! Chaine de dames! La corbeille! I know you, gammer! Hamlet, revenge! The old sow that eats her farrow! Old gummy granny: (rocking to and fro.) Ireland's sweetheart, the king of spain's daughter, alanna. How did Bloom prepare a collation for a gentile? He poured into two teacups two level spoonfuls, four in all, of epps's soluble cocoa and proceeded according to the directions for use printed on the label, to each adding after sufficient time for infusion the prescribed ingredients for diffusion in the manner and in the quantity prescribed. Why for the observer impressionability in addition to vigour, corporal proportion and commercial ability? Because he had observed with augmenting frequency in the preceding members of the same series the same concupiscence, inflammably transmitted, first with alarm, then with understanding, then with desire, finally with fatigue, with alternating symptoms of epicene comprehension and apprehension. They were haggling over money. Is that so? Rudolph Bloom (deceased) narrated to his son leopold Bloom (aged ) a retrospective arrangement of migrations and settlements in and between Dublin, london, florence, milan, vienna, budapest, szombathely with statements of satisfaction (his grandfather having seen maria theresia, empress of austria, queen of hungary), with commercial advice (having taken care of pence, the pounds having taken care of themselves). In the midst of it unluckily I made a sudden gesture of a revolutionary nature. I'm surprised at boys like you, educated, reading such stuff. The crux was it was a bit risky to bring him home as eventualities might possibly ensue (somebody having a temper of her own sometimes) and spoil the hash altogether as on the night he misguidedly brought home a dog (breed unknown) with a lame paw (not that the cases were either identical or the reverse though he had hurt his hand too) to ontario terrace as he very distinctly remembered, having been there, so to speak. On the other hand it was altogether far and away too late for the sandymount or sandycove suggestion so that he was in some perplexity as to which of the two alternatives. Everything pointed to the fact that it behoved him to avail himself to the full of the opportunity, all things considered. S. D. Lynch: (embracing kitty on the sofa, chants deeply.) dona nobis pacem. (The cigarette slips from Stephen's fingers. I insist on knowing. Tell me something to amuse me, smut or a bloody good ghoststory or a line of poetry, quick, quick, quick! 

Why could he then support that his vigil with the greater equanimity? 

Because in middle youth he had often sat observing through a rondel of bossed glass of a multicoloured pane the spectacle offered with continual changes of the thoroughfare without, pedestrians, quadrupeds, velocipedes, vehicles, passing slowly, quickly, evenly, round and round and round the rim of a round and round precipitous globe. What distinct different memories had each of her now eight years deceased? Kitty! (To Bloom.) get him away, you. He won't listen to me. 

(The sound of a waterfall is heard in bright cascade.) the waterfall: poulaphouca poulaphouca poulaphouca poulaphouca. The yews: (mingling their boughs.) listen. Whisper. What a lark! Let's ring all the bells in montague street. (He cheers feebly.) hurray for the high school! The echo: fool! An eagle gules volant in a field argent displayed. Ulster king at arms! Haihoop! The arabian nights entertainment was my favourite and red as a rose is she. 

He could spin those yarns for hours on end all night long and lie like old boots. Look at him. (He points his finger.) I'm not afraid of what I can talk to if I see his eye. Retaining the perpendicular. (He staggers a pace back.) Bloom: (propping him.) retain your own. The unsympathetic indifference of previously amiable females, the contempt of muscular males, the acceptance of fragments of bread, the simulated ignorance of casual acquaintances, the latration of illegitimate unlicensed vagabond dogs, the infantile discharge of decomposed vegetable missiles, worth little or nothing, nothing or less than nothing. By what could such a situation be precluded? Neither. What, reduced to their simplest reciprocal form, were Bloom's thoughts about Stephen's thoughts about Bloom and about Stephen's thoughts about Bloom's thoughts about Stephen? He thought that he thought that he was a jew whereas he knew that he knew that he knew that he was not. What first reminiscence had he of Rudolph Bloom (deceased)? Rudolph Bloom (deceased) narrated to his son leopold Bloom (aged ) a retrospective arrangement of migrations and settlements in and between Dublin, london, florence, milan, vienna, budapest, szombathely with statements of satisfaction (his grandfather having seen maria theresia, empress of austria, queen of hungary), with commercial advice (having taken care of pence, the pounds having taken care of themselves). Leopold Bloom (aged ) had accompanied these narrations by constant consultation of a geographical map of Europe (political) and by suggestions for the establishment of affiliated business premises in the various centres mentioned. Had time equally but differently obliterated the memory of these migrations in narrator and listener? Ineluctable modality of the visible. (He frowns mysteriously.) hm. Sphinx. Pander to their gomorrahan vices. Simon: think of your mother's people! Stephen: dance of death. The altar was heaped with fragrant masses of white flowers; and in the morning light the pale flames of the candles among the white flowers were clear and silent as his own soul. She sipped a little more from her glass and said: "well, Miss Flynn, at any rate it must be a great comfort for you to know that you did all you could for him. You were both very kind to him, I must say." eliza smoothed her dress over her knees. "Ah, poor James!" she said. There's an example again of simple souls. Against the dark wall a figure appears slowly, a fairy boy of eleven, a changeling, kidnapped, dressed in an eton suit with glass shoes and a little bronze helmet, holding a book in his hand. He reads from right to left inaudibly, smiling, kissing the page.) Bloom: (wonderstruck, calls inaudibly.) rudy! Doctor swift says one man in armour will beat ten men in their shirts. Shirt is synechdoche. Part for the whole. Cissy Caffrey: (to the crowd.) no, I was with the privates. 

The lefthand dead shot. 

Mr. Dedalus lingered in the hall gazing about him and up at the roof and telling Stephen, who urged him to come out, that they were standing in the house of commons of the old Irish parliament. Two lean hungry greyhounds walking after a heifer. March . Mr. Bloom, without evincing surprise, unostentatiously turned over the card to peruse the partially obliterated address and postmark. 

She put on nine pounds after weaning. 

O, make the kwawr a krowawr! 

The pack of staghounds follows, nose to the ground, sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be blooded. (They whisper again.) (over the well of the car blazes Boylan leans, his boater straw set sideways, a red flower in his mouth. Lenehan in yachtsman's cap and white shoes officiously detaches a long hair from blazes Boylan's coat shoulder.) Lenehan: ho! What do I here behold? It leads to eugenics rather than to esthetic. Rody Kickham held the ball by its greasy lace. (Zoe whispers to her.) Marion: let him look, the pishogue! Pimp! And scourge himself! 

It's all very fine to boast of mutual superiority but what about mutual equality. Mr. Bloom, so far as he was personally concerned, was just pondering in pensive mood. 

He won't listen to me. Father malachi O'flynn: (takes from the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host.) corpus meum. The reverend Mr. haines love: (raises high behind the celebrant's petticoat, revealing his grey bare hairy buttocks between which a carrot is stuck.) my body. The voice of all the damned: htengier tnetopinmo dog drol eht rof, aiulella! Philosophy of the talmud (sewn pamphlet). Lockhart's life of napoleon (cover wanting, marginal annotations, minimising victories, aggrandising defeats of the protagonist). Some person or persons invisible directed him to the male urinal erected by the cleansing committee all over the place for the purpose but after a brief space of time during which silence reigned supreme the sailor, evidently giving it a wide berth, eased himself closer at hand, the noise of his bilgewater some little time subsequently splashing on the ground where it apparently awoke a horse of the cabrank. A hoof scooped anyway for new foothold after sleep and harness jingled. (The crowd disperses slowly, muttering, down the lane.) corny Kelleher: leave it to me, sergeant. That'Ll be all right. (He laughs, shaking his head.) we were often as bad ourselves, ay or worse. What? This was a quandary but, bringing common sense to bear on it, evidently there was nothing for it but put a good face on the matter and foot it which they accordingly did. So, bevelling around by Mullett's and the signal house which they shortly reached, they proceeded perforce in the direction of Amiens Street Railway Terminus, Mr. Bloom being handicapped by the circumstance that one of the back buttons of his trousers had, to vary the timehonoured adage, gone the way of all buttons though, entering thoroughly into the spirit of the thing, he heroically made light of the mischance. (He stretches out his arms, sighs again and curls his body. Bloom, holding the hat and ashplant, stands erect. A dog barks in the distance. Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the ashplant. Stephen of course started rather dizzily and stopped to return the compliment. Mr. Bloom actuated by motives of inherent delicacy inasmuch as he always believed in minding his own business moved off but nevertheless remained on the qui vive with just a shade of anxiety though not funkyish in the least. Oks. Mh/Y. Mr. Bloom's sharp ears heard him then expectorate the plug probably (which it was), so that he must have lodged it for the time being in his fist while he did the drinking and making water jobs and found it a bit sour after the liquid fire in question. Anyhow in he rolled after his successful libation-cum-potation, introducing an atmosphere of drink into the soiree, boisterously trolling, like a veritable son of a seacook: the biscuits was as hard as brass and the beef as salt as lot's wife's arse. O, Johnny Lever! Johnny Lever, o! Bloom: you mean photo bits? Then out there came the jew's daughter and she all dressed in green. "Come back, come back, you pretty little boy, and play your ball again." I can't come back and I won't come back without my schoolfellows all. 

But with a little goodwill all round. It's all very fine to boast of mutual superiority but what about mutual equality. I resent violence and intolerance in any shape or form. It never reaches anything or stops anything. 

Garrett Deasy: (bolt upright, his nailscraped face plastered with postagestamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his blue eyes flashing in the prism of the chandelier as his mount lopes by at schooling gallop.) per vias rectas! (A yoke of buckets leopards all over him and his rearing nag a torrent of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, potatoes.) the green lodges: soft day, sir john! In consequence of defective mnemotechnic. How did the chanter compensate for this deficiency? What act did Bloom make on their arrival at their destination? At the housesteps of the th of the equidifferent uneven numbers, number eccles street, he inserted his hand mechanically into the back pocket of his trousers to obtain his latchkey. Was it there? What eventuality would render him independent of such wealth? The independent discovery of a goldseam of inexhaustible ore. For what reason did he meditate on schemes so difficult of realisation? 

To Bloom: the problems of irritability, tumescence, rigidity, reactivity, dimension, sanitariness, pilosity. To Stephen: the problem of the sacerdotal integrity of Jesus circumcised ( january, holiday of obligation to hear mass and abstain from unnecessary servile work) and the problem as to whether the divine prepuce, the carnal bridal ring of the Holy Roman Catholic Apostolic Church, conserved in calcata, were deserving of simple hyperduly or of the fourth degree of latria accorded to the abscission of such divine excrescences as hair and toenails. What celestial sign was by both simultaneously observed? It is with him I must struggle all through this night till day come, till he or I lie dead, gripping him by the sinewy throat till... Bello: changed, eh? Our whatnot, our writingtable where we never wrote, Aunt hegarty's armchair, our classic reprints of old masters. A man and his menfriends are living there in clover. Give her your blessing for me. Stephen: (hands Bella a coin.) gold. She has it. Silence with a yawn or two accompanied this thrilling announcement. Then the old specimen in the corner who appeared to have some spark of vitality left read out that Sir Anthony MacDonnell had left euston for the chief secretary's lodge or words to that effect. To which absorbing piece of intelligence echo answered why. Give us a squint at that literature, grandfather, the ancient mariner put in, manifesting some natural impatience. Dolphin's barn: the transliterated name and address of the addresser of the letters in reversed alphabetic boustrophedonic punctated quadrilinear cryptogram (vowels suppressed) n. Igs./Wi. Uu. For instance there was the case of O'callaghan, for one, the halfcrazy faddist, respectably connected though of inadequate means, with his mad vagaries among whose other gay doings when rotto and making himself a nuisance to everybody all round he was in the habit of ostentatiously sporting in public a suit of brown paper (a fact). And then the usual denouement after the fun had gone on fast and furious he got landed into hot water and had to be spirited away by a few friends, after a strong hint to a blind horse from john mallon of lower castle yard, so as not to be made amenable under section two of the criminal law amendment act, certain names of those subpoenaed being handed in but not divulged for reasons which will occur to anyone with a pick of brains. 

Promptly, inexplicably, with amicability, gratefully it was declined. What exchange of money took place between host and guest? She rolled downhill at rialto bridge to tempt me with her flow of animal spirits. She climbed their crooked tree and i... 

And Stephen, each in his own particular way, both instinctively exchanged meaning glances, in a religious silence of the strictly entre nous variety however, towards where skin-the-goat, alias the keeper, not turning a hair, was drawing spurts of liquid from his boiler affair. His inscrutable face which was really a work of art, a perfect study in itself, beggaring description, conveyed the impression that he didn't understand one jot of what was going on. 

Bloom: thank you, sir. Yes, sir. The bold soldier boy. Thus prevailed on to at any rate taste it Stephen lifted the heavy mug from the brown puddle it clopped out of when taken up by the handle and took a sip of the offending beverage. Still it's solid food, his good genius urged, I'm a stickler for solid food, his one and only reason being not gormandising in the least but regular meals as the sine qua non for any kind of proper work, mental or manual. You ought to eat more solid food. His nag on spavined whitegaitered feet jogs along the rocky road.) the orange lodges: (jeering.) get down and push, mister. Being a levelheaded individual who could give points to not a few in point of shrewd observation he also remarked on his very dilapidated hat and slouchy wearing apparel generally testifying to a chronic impecuniosity. Palpably he was one of his hangerson but for the matter of that it was merely a question of one preying on his nextdoor neighbour all round, in every deep, so to put it, a deeper depth and for the matter of that if the man in the street chanced to be in the dock himself penal servitude with or without the option of a fine would be a very rara avis altogether. The citizen: erin go bragh! (Major tweedy and the citizen exhibit to each other medals, decorations, trophies of war, wounds. Both salute with fierce hostility.) private compton: go it, harry. Do him one in the eye. To improve the shining hour he wondered whether he might meet with anything approaching the same luck as Mr. philip beaufoy if taken down in writing suppose he were to pen something out of the common groove (as he fully intended doing) at the rate of one guinea per column. My experiences, let us say, in a cabman's shelter. The pink edition extra sporting of the telegraph tell a graphic lie lay, as luck would have it, beside his elbow and as he was just puzzling again, far from satisfied, over a country belonging to him and the preceding rebus the vessel came from bridgwater and the postcard was addressed a. Boudin find the Captain's age, his eyes went aimlessly over the respective captions which came under his special province the allembracing give us this day our daily press. Significances of similitude, of posture, of symbolism, of circumstantial evidence, of testimonial supermanence. What occupied the position originally occupied by the sideboard? 

It happened not long ago in the county wicklow where we are now. Dietary: concerning the respective percentage of protein and caloric energy in bacon, salt ling and butter, the absence of the former in the lastnamed and the abundance of the latter in the firstnamed. I hate roaming about. There's my son now, danny, run off to sea and his mother got him took in a draper's in cork where he could be drawing easy money. I'm surprised at boys like you, educated, reading such stuff. I could understand it if you were ... 

"Ah, do you tell me so? On land, meridional, a bispherical moon, revealed in imperfect varying phases of lunation through the posterior interstice of the imperfectly occluded skirt of a carnose negligent perambulating female, a pillar of the cloud by day. He had been meantime taking stock of the individual in front of him and sherlockholmesing him up ever since he clapped eyes on him. Though a wellpreserved man of no little stamina, if a trifle prone to baldness, there was something spurious in the cut of his jib that suggested a jail delivery and it required no violent stretch of imagination to associate such a weirdlooking specimen with the oakum and treadmill fraternity. Catalogue these books. Thom's Dublin post office directory, . On the contrary that stab in the back touch was quite in keeping with those italianos though candidly he was none the less free to admit those icecreamers and friers in the fish way not to mention the chip potato variety and so forth over in little italy there near the coombe were sober thrifty hardworking fellows except perhaps a bit too given to pothunting the harmless necessary animal of the feline persuasion of others at night so as to have a good old succulent tuckin with garlic de rigueur off him or her next day on the quiet and, he added, on the cheap. Spaniards, for instance, he continued, passionate temperaments like that, impetuous as old nick, are given to taking the law into their own hands and give you your quietus doublequick with those poignards they carry in the abdomen. It comes from the great heat, climate generally. Stephen: I seem to annoy them. Green rag to a bull. (Kevin egan of Paris in black spanish tasselled shirt and peep-o'-day boy's hat signs to Stephen.) kevin egan: h'lo! Theoretical, being confined to certain grammatical rules of accidence and syntax and practically excluding vocabulary. Concluding by inspection but erroneously that his silent companion was engaged in mental composition he reflected on the pleasures derived from literature of instruction rather than of amusement as he himself had applied to the works of william Shakespeare more than once for the solution of difficult problems in imaginary or real life. 

Had he found their solution? What reason did Stephen give for declining Bloom's offer? That he was hydrophobe, hating partial contact by immersion or total by submersion in cold water, (his last bath having taken place in the month of october of the preceding year), disliking the aqueous substances of glass and crystal, distrusting aquacities of thought and language. What impeded Bloom from giving Stephen counsels of hygiene and prophylactic to which should be added suggestions concerning a preliminary wetting of the head and contraction of the muscles with rapid splashing of the face and neck and thoracic and epigastric region in case of sea or river bathing, the parts of the human anatomy most sensitive to cold being the nape, stomach and thenar or sole of foot? (He points.) for that lot. Mr. Bloom pursued without flinching a hairsbreadth. Why, the sailor replied, relaxing to a certain extent under the magic influence of diamond cut diamond, it might be a matter of ten years. Not as much as a farthing to purchase a night's lodgings. His friends had all deserted him. Furthermore he had a row with Lenehan and called him to Stephen a mean bloody swab with a sprinkling of a number of other uncalledfor expressions. "He was like you, I fancy, said Stephen, an emotional man. "Blast him, curse him! Play. This gratuitous contribution of a humorous character occasioned a fair amount of laughter among his entourage. 

To attempt my virtue! Then he screwed his features up someway sideways and glared out into the night with an unprepossessing cast of countenance. Pom! Henceforth you are unmanned and mine in earnest, a thing under the yoke. 

Pander to their gomorrahan vices. 

Corny Kelleher again reassuralooms with his hand. Bloom with his hand assuralooms corny Kelleher that he is reassuraloomtay. The tinkling hoofs and jingling harness grow fainter with their tooralooloo looloo lay. Which example did he adduce to induce Stephen to deduce that originality, though producing its own reward, does not invariably conduce to success? Faces of hamadryads peep out from the boles and among the leaves and break, blossoming into Bloom.) who profaned our silent shade? The nymph: (coyly, through parting fingers.) there? Faultfinding being a proverbially bad hat Mr. Bloom thought well to stir or try to the clotted sugar from the bottom and reflected with something approaching acrimony on the coffee palace and its temperance (and lucrative) work. To be sure it was a legitimate object and beyond yea or nay did a world of good, shelters such as the present one they were in run on teetotal lines for vagrants at night, concerts, dramatic evenings and useful lectures (admittance free) by qualified men for the lower orders. First watch: (takes out his notebook.) what's his name? 

Had he found their solution? In spite of careful and repeated reading of certain classical passages, aided by a glossary, he had derived imperfect conviction from the text, the answers not bearing in all points. What lines concluded his first piece of original verse written by him, potential poet, at the age of in on the occasion of the offering of three prizes of /-, /- and / respectively for competition by the shamrock, a weekly newspaper? The rector went on gravely: "you are all familiar with the story of the life of saint francis xavier, I suppose, the patron of your college. Sure you won't? His father had told him, whatever he did, never to peach on a fellow. But that dress, the green! And her hair is dyed gold and he... Bello: (laughs mockingly.) that's your daughter, you owl, with a mullingar student. 

Private Carr: (his cap awry, advances to Stephen.) say, how would it be, governor, if I was to bash in your jaw? 

Stephen: (looks up to the sky.) how? On more than one occasion, a dozen at the lowest, near the north bull at dollymount he had remarked a superannuated old salt, evidently derelict, seated habitually near the not particularly redolent sea on the wall, staring quite obliviously at it and it at him, dreaming of fresh woods and pastures new as someone somewhere sings. And it left him wondering why. Or do you are fond better what belongs they moderns pleasure turpitude of old mans? (He points about him with grotesque gestures which lynch and the whores reply to.) caoutchouc statue woman reversible or lifesize tompeeptom of virgins nudities very lesbic the kiss five ten times. Enter, gentleman, to see in mirror every positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on the belly piece de Shakespeare. He weighed the possible evidences for and against ritual murder: the incitations of the hierarchy, the superstition of the populace, the propagation of rumour in continued fraction of veridicity, the envy of opulence, the influence of retaliation, the sporadic reappearance of atavistic delinquency, the mitigating circumstances of fanaticism, hypnotic suggestion and somnambulism. From which (if any) of these mental or physical disorders was he not totally immune? From hypnotic suggestion: once, waking, he had not recognised his sleeping apartment: more than once, waking, he had been for an indefinite time incapable of moving or uttering sounds. What attracted his attention lying on the apron of the dresser? Four polygonal fragments of two lacerated scarlet betting tickets, numbered. What reminiscences temporarily corrugated his brow? 

On the doorstep all the whores clustered talk volubly, pointing to the right where the fog has cleared off. I can give you a rare old wine that'll send you skipping to hell and back. Sign a will and leave us any coin you have! If you have none see you damn well get it, steal it, rob it! Let me stir it. And take a piece of that bun. At this remark passed obviously in the spirit of where ignorance is bliss Mr. b. And Stephen, each in his own particular way, both instinctively exchanged meaning glances, in a religious silence of the strictly entre nous variety however, towards where skin-the-goat, alias the keeper, not turning a hair, was drawing spurts of liquid from his boiler affair. His inscrutable face which was really a work of art, a perfect study in itself, beggaring description, conveyed the impression that he didn't understand one jot of what was going on. Occasionally he ate without having previously removed his hat. Occasionally he drank voraciously the juice of gooseberry fool from an inclined plate. He had not risked, he did not expect, he had not been disappointed, he was satisfied. What satisfied him? To have sustained no positive loss. Bloom: (humbly kisses her long hair.) your classic curves, beautiful immortal, I was glad to look on you, to praise you, a thing of beauty, almost to pray. The nymph: during dark nights I heard your praise. What homothetic objects, other than the candlestick, stood on the mantelpiece? Bloom: (quietly.) you had better hand over that cash to me to take care of. Why pay more? Stephen: (hands him all his coins.) be just before you are generous. She sipped a little more from her glass and said: "well, Miss Flynn, at any rate it must be a great comfort for you to know that you did all you could for him. You were both very kind to him, I must say." eliza smoothed her dress over her knees. What proofs did Bloom adduce to prove that his tendency was towards applied, rather than towards pure, science? The yews: ssh! The nymph: (covers her face with her hands.) what have I not seen in that chamber? What must my eyes look down on? Bloom: (apologetically.) I know. It's in the dogma. Because if they didn't believe they'd go straight to heaven when they die they'd try to live better, at least so I think. 

He infinitely preferred the sacred music of the Catholic church to anything the opposite shop could offer in that line such as those moody and sankey hymns or bid me to live and I will live thy protestant to be. He also yielded to none in his admiration of rossini's stabat mater, a work simply abounding in immortal numbers, in which his wife, Madam Marion tweedy, made a hit, a veritable sensation, he might safely say, greatly adding to her other laurels and putting the others totally in the shade, in the jesuit fathers' church in upper gardiner street, the sacred edifice being thronged to the doors to hear her with virtuosos, or virtuosi rather. Stephen: (nervous, friendly, pulls himself up.) I understand your point of view though I have no king myself for the moment. 

This is the age of patent medicines. A discussion is difficult down here. Et laqueo se suspendit. Bloom: (runs to Stephen.) come along with me now before worse happens. Here's your stick. I believe he is in Dublin somewhere, Stephen answered unconcernedly. Why? 

Zoe: before You're twice married and once a widower. Bloom: lapses are condoned. Bella: what? What is it? Boylan: (clasps himself.) here, I can't hold this little lot much longer. (He strides off on stiff cavalry legs.) bella: (laughing.) ho ho ho ho. 

I have... Bloom: done. Prff! (Staggering bob, a whitepolled calf, thrusts a ruminating head with humid nostrils through the foliage.) staggering bob: (large teardrops rolling from his prominent eyes, snivels.) me. 

On the other hand he might be only bluffing, a pardonable weakness because meeting unmistakable mugs, Dublin residents, like those jarvies waiting news from abroad would tempt any ancient mariner who sailed the ocean seas to draw the long bow about the schooner hesperus and etcetera. And when all was said and done the lies a fellow told about himself couldn't probably hold a proverbial candle to the wholesale whoppers other fellows coined about him. He stops dead.) Stephen: ho! (Stephen's mother, emaciated, rises stark through the floor, in leper grey with a wreath of faded orangeblossoms and a torn bridal veil, her face worn and noseless, green with gravemould. Her hair is scant and lank. This confused her more and I felt sorry and mean. Must get glasses. (With pathos.) no girl would when I went girling. Too ugly. They wouldn't play... Byby, papli! Bloom: (clasps his head.) my willpower! Memory! I have sinned! Pardies and rendered into English by john harris d. D. London, printed for r. Molloy, sung by Madam antoinette sterling) open at the last page with the final indications ad libitum, forte, pedal, animato, sustained pedal, ritirando, close. 

Factory lasses with fancy clothes toss redhot Yorkshire baraabombs. 

Society ladies lift their skirts above their heads to protect themselves. Lighted candle in stick borne by Bloom diaconal hat on ashplant borne by Stephen with what intonation secreto of what commemorative psalm? The th, modus peregrinus: in exitu Israel de Egypto: domus jacob de populo barbaro. What did each do at the door of egress? Bloom set the candlestick on the floor. Farewell, my mother! Bury me in the old churchyard beside my eldest brother. "O, get out! Said heron. Up to sample or your money back. (He holds out a forefinger.) smell that. Lenehan: (smells gleefully.) ah! It was quite on a par with the quixotic idea in certain quarters that in a hundred million years the coal seam of the sister island would be played out and if, as time went on, that turned out to be how the cat jumped all he could personally say on the matter was that as a host of contingencies, equally relevant to the issue, might occur ere then it was highly advisable in the interim to try to make the most of both countries even though poles apart. Another little interesting point, the amours of whores and chummies, to put it in common parlance, reminded him Irish soldiers had as often fought for england as against her, more so, in fact. And now, why? It happened not long ago in the county wicklow where we are now. He broke off and, turning towards dante, said with quiet indignation: "and I may tell you, ma'am, that i, if you mean me, am no renegade Catholic. 

I am a Catholic as my father was and his father before him and his father before him again when we gave up our lives rather than sell our faith. Judge of his astonishment when he finally did breast the tape and the awful truth dawned upon him anent his better half, wrecked in his affections. Zoe: (runs to Stephen and links him.) o go on! Give us some parleyvoo. (Stephen claps hat on head and leaps over to the fireplace where he stands with shrugged shoulders, finny hands outspread, a painted smile on his face.) lynch: (pommelling on the sofa.) rmm rmm rmm rrrrrrmmmmm. As regards Bloom he, without the faintest suspicion of a smile, merely gazed in the direction of the door and reflected upon the historic story which had aroused extraordinary interest at the time when the facts, to make matters worse, were made public with the usual affectionate letters that passed between them full of sweet nothings. First it was strictly platonic till nature intervened and an attachment sprang up between them till bit by bit matters came to a climax and the matter became the talk of the town till the staggering blow came as a welcome intelligence to not a few evildisposed, however, who were resolved upon encompassing his downfall though the thing was public property all along though not to anything like the sensational extent that it subsequently blossomed into. Egg two evidently demolished, he nodded and winked, adding bloodthirstily: Buffalo Bill shoots to kill, never missed nor he never will. A silence ensued till Mr. Bloom for agreeableness' sake just felt like asking him whether it was for a marksmanship competition like the bisley. 

Beg pardon, the sailor said. Dream of the girl you left behind and she will dream of you. First watch: (turns to the crowd.) here, what are you all gaping at? Move on out of that. (The crowd disperses slowly, muttering, down the lane.) corny Kelleher: leave it to me, sergeant. Them are his trousers I've on me and he gave me an oilskin and that jackknife. I'm game for that job, shaving and brushup. Abnegation? And the very first ball little Harry Hughes played he drove it O'er the jew's garden wall. And the very second ball little Harry Hughes played he broke the jew's windows all. Littleharryhughes how did the son of Rudolph receive this first part? He takes great pride, quite legitimate, out of you. You could go back perhaps, he hasarded, still thinking of the very unpleasant scene at Westland Row Terminus when it was perfectly evident that the other two, Mulligan, that is, and that English tourist friend of his, who eventually euchred their third companion, were patently trying as if the whole bally station belonged to them to give Stephen the slip in the confusion, which they did. Bello: (gives a rap with his gavel.) two bar. Rockbottom figure and cheap at the price. Fourteen hands high. Touch and examine shis points. The dead of Dublin from prospect and mount jerome in white sheepskin overcoats and black goatfell cloaks arise and appear to many. A chasm opens with a noiseless yawn. Stick one into jerry. He believed then that human life was infinitely perfectible, eliminating these conditions? There remained the generic conditions imposed by natural, as distinct from human law, as integral parts of the human whole: the necessity of destruction to procure alimentary sustenance: the painful character of the ultimate functions of separate existence, the agonies of birth and death: the monotonous menstruation of simian and (particularly) human females extending from the age of puberty to the menopause: inevitable accidents at sea, in mines and factories: certain very painful maladies and their resultant surgical operations, innate lunacy and congenital criminality, decimating epidemics: catastrophic cataclysms which make terror the basis of human mentality: seismic upheavals the epicentres of which are located in densely populated regions: the fact of vital growth, through convulsions of metamorphosis, from infancy through maturity to decay. Why did he desist from speculation? He sits tinily on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the keyboard, nodding with damsel's grace, his bowknot bobbing.) Zoe: (twirls round herself, heeltapping.) dance. Anybody here for there? Piping hot! The voice of Zoe: (from the thicket.) came from a hot place. 

(She keens with banshee woe.) ochone! 

In the midst of it unluckily I made a sudden gesture of a revolutionary nature. 

I'm surprised at boys like you, educated, reading such stuff. What a lark! 

As regards Bloom he, without the faintest suspicion of a smile, merely gazed in the direction of the door and reflected upon the historic story which had aroused extraordinary interest at the time when the facts, to make matters worse, were made public with the usual affectionate letters that passed between them full of sweet nothings. Palpably he was one of his hangerson but for the matter of that it was merely a question of one preying on his nextdoor neighbour all round, in every deep, so to put it, a deeper depth and for the matter of that if the man in the street chanced to be in the dock himself penal servitude with or without the option of a fine would be a very rara avis altogether. The citizen: erin go bragh! What proposal did Bloom, diambulist, father of Milly, somnambulist, make to Stephen, noctambulist? To pass in repose the hours intervening between thursday (proper) and friday (normal) on an extemporised cubicle in the apartment immediately above the kitchen and immediately adjacent to the sleeping apartment of his host and hostess. I'd carry a sandwichboard only the girl in the office told me they're full up for the next three weeks, man. I could understand it if you were ... "Ah, do you tell me so? On land, meridional, a bispherical moon, revealed in imperfect varying phases of lunation through the posterior interstice of the imperfectly occluded skirt of a carnose negligent perambulating female, a pillar of the cloud by day. He had been meantime taking stock of the individual in front of him and sherlockholmesing him up ever since he clapped eyes on him. Spaniards, for instance, he continued, passionate temperaments like that, impetuous as old nick, are given to taking the law into their own hands and give you your quietus doublequick with those poignards they carry in the abdomen. It comes from the great heat, climate generally. And the very second ball little Harry Hughes played he broke the jew's windows all. Littleharryhughes how did the son of Rudolph receive this first part? What do I here behold? It leads to eugenics rather than to esthetic. Rody Kickham held the ball by its greasy lace. Lynch: hoopla! A. (The face of Martin Cunningham, bearded, refeatures Shakespeare's beardless face. The marquee umbrella sways drunkenly, the children run aside. When we came away father told me he had a good honest eye. Dietary: concerning the respective percentage of protein and caloric energy in bacon, salt ling and butter, the absence of the former in the lastnamed and the abundance of the latter in the firstnamed. I hate roaming about. You could go back perhaps, he hasarded, still thinking of the very unpleasant scene at Westland Row Terminus when it was perfectly evident that the other two, Mulligan, that is, and that English tourist friend of his, who eventually euchred their third companion, were patently trying as if the whole bally station belonged to them to give Stephen the slip in the confusion, which they did. Bello: (gives a rap with his gavel.) two bar. He thought that he thought that he was a jew whereas he knew that he knew that he knew that he was not. The th, modus peregrinus: in exitu Israel de Egypto: domus jacob de populo barbaro. Aloysius gonzaga), sunrise . You ought to eat more solid food. His nag on spavined whitegaitered feet jogs along the rocky road.) the orange lodges: (jeering.) get down and push, mister. 

And the very second ball little Harry Hughes played he broke the jew's windows all. Littleharryhughes how did the son of Rudolph receive this first part? The arabian nights entertainment was my favourite and red as a rose is she. He could spin those yarns for hours on end all night long and lie like old boots. I'm game for that job, shaving and brushup. Abnegation? (She keens with banshee woe.) ochone! Ochone! Silk of the kine! La corbeille! I know you, gammer! Rody Kickham held the ball by its greasy lace. (Zoe whispers to her.) Marion: let him look, the pishogue! 

Pimp! (The crowd disperses slowly, muttering, down the lane.) corny Kelleher: leave it to me, sergeant. (The crowd disperses slowly, muttering, down the lane.) corny Kelleher: leave it to me, sergeant. 

Them are his trousers I've on me and he gave me an oilskin and that jackknife. Salut! A commode, one leg fractured, totally covered by square cretonne cutting, apple design, on which rested a lady's black straw hat. Mind your cornflowers. O, Johnny Lever! And assaulted my chum. (The retriever barks.) who owns the bleeding tyke? 

Cissy Caffrey: (with expectation.) is he bleeding! (He shoves his arm in a bidder's face.) here wet the deck and wipe it round! It's for business men, you know." "he won't be too hard on us, Tom," said Mr. Power persuasively. I don't give a shite anyway so long as I get a job, even as a crossing sweeper. 

There was lice in that bunk in bridgwater, he remarked, sure as nuts. So, bevelling around by Mullett's and the signal house which they shortly reached, they proceeded perforce in the direction of Amiens Street Railway Terminus, Mr. Bloom being handicapped by the circumstance that one of the back buttons of his trousers had, to vary the timehonoured adage, gone the way of all buttons though, entering thoroughly into the spirit of the thing, he heroically made light of the mischance. Then the old specimen in the corner who appeared to have some spark of vitality left read out that Sir Anthony MacDonnell had left euston for the chief secretary's lodge or words to that effect. March. Mr. Bloom, without evincing surprise, unostentatiously turned over the card to peruse the partially obliterated address and postmark. To Bloom: the problems of irritability, tumescence, rigidity, reactivity, dimension, sanitariness, pilosity. To Stephen: the problem of the sacerdotal integrity of Jesus circumcised (January, holiday of obligation to hear mass and abstain from unnecessary servile work) and the problem as to whether the divine prepuce, the carnal bridal ring of the Holy Roman Catholic Apostolic Church, conserved in calcata, were deserving of simple hyperduly or of the fourth degree of latria accorded to the abscission of such divine excrescences as hair and toenails. Play. This gratuitous contribution of a humorous character occasioned a fair amount of laughter among his entourage. The marquee umbrella sways drunkenly, the children run aside. When we came away father told me he had a good honest eye. The fellows seemed to him to have grown smaller: that was because a sprinter had knocked him down the day before, a fellow out of second of grammar. Mind your cornflowers. Wonderworker. There remained the generic conditions imposed by natural, as distinct from human law, as integral parts of the human whole: the necessity of destruction to procure alimentary sustenance: the painful character of the ultimate functions of separate existence, the agonies of birth and death: the monotonous menstruation of simian and (particularly) human females extending from the age of puberty to the menopause: inevitable accidents at sea, in mines and factories: certain very painful maladies and their resultant surgical operations, innate lunacy and congenital criminality, decimating epidemics: catastrophic cataclysms which make terror the basis of human mentality: seismic upheavals the epicentres of which are located in densely populated regions: the fact of vital growth, through convulsions of metamorphosis, from infancy through maturity to decay. Why did he desist from speculation? He sits tinily on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the keyboard, nodding with damsel's grace, his bowknot bobbing.) Zoe: (twirls round herself, heeltapping.) dance. 

First watch: (turns to the crowd.) here, what are you all gaping at? Lighted candle in stick borne by Bloom diaconal hat on ashplant borne by Stephen with what intonation secreto of what commemorative psalm? The th, modus peregrinus: in exitu Israel de Egypto: domus jacob de populo barbaro. What did each do at the door of egress? 

On land, meridional, a bispherical moon, revealed in imperfect varying phases of lunation through the posterior interstice of the imperfectly occluded skirt of a carnose negligent perambulating female, a pillar of the cloud by day. Byby, papli! Bloom: (clasps his head.) my willpower! Memory! I have sinned! The old sow that eats her farrow! Old gummy granny: (rocking to and fro.) Ireland's sweetheart, the king of Spain's daughter, alanna. How did Bloom prepare a collation for a gentile? First watch: (takes out his notebook.) what's his name? Had he found their solution? In spite of careful and repeated reading of certain classical passages, aided by a glossary, he had derived imperfect conviction from the text, the answers not bearing in all points. The marquee umbrella sways drunkenly, the children run aside. My dear son... Always... Shakespeare: (with paralytic rage.) weda seca whokilla farst. He stops dead.) Stephen: ho! La corbeille! I know you, gammer! 

(A yoke of buckets leopards all over him and his rearing nag a torrent of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, potatoes.) the green lodges: soft day, sir john! In consequence of defective mnemotechnic. It was quite on a par with the quixotic idea in certain quarters that in a hundred million years the coal seam of the sister island would be played out and if, as time went on, that turned out to be how the cat jumped all he could personally say on the matter was that as a host of contingencies, equally relevant to the issue, might occur ere then it was highly advisable in the interim to try to make the most of both countries even though poles apart. 

"Blast him, curse him! Play. This gratuitous contribution of a humorous character occasioned a fair amount of laughter among his entourage. Occasionally he ate without having previously removed his hat. 

No connection with Madam Legget Byrne's or Levenston's. It heals and soothes while you sleep, in case of trouble in breaking wind, assists nature in the most formidable way, insuring instant relief in discharge of gases, keeping parts clean and free natural action, an initial outlay of / making a new man of you and life worth living. Ladies find wonderworker especially useful, a pleasant surprise when they note delightful result like a cool drink of fresh spring water on a sultry summer's day. If I catch a trace on your swaddles. (Earnestly.) and really it's better the position... What had been his hypothetical singular solutions? I know you, gammer! Hamlet, revenge! I know you, gammer! Hamlet, revenge! The old sow that eats her farrow! Stephen: I seem to annoy them. 

Green rag to a bull. This gratuitous contribution of a humorous character occasioned a fair amount of laughter among his entourage. 

To attempt my virtue! Fourteen hands high. Touch and examine shis points. Sphinx. Wonderworker. Stuck together! Stephen of course started rather dizzily and stopped to return the compliment. Silk of the kine! (With sudden fervour.) for why should the dainty scented jewelled hand, the hand that rules...? 

(To Bloom.) get him away, you. He won't listen to me. Furthermore he had a row with Lenehan and called him to Stephen a mean bloody swab with a sprinkling of a number of other uncalledfor expressions. "He was like you, I fancy, said Stephen, an emotional man. "Blast him, curse him! And her hair is dyed gold and he... "Blast him, curse him! Play. Sphinx." Garrett Deasy: (bolt upright, his nailscraped face plastered with postagestamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his blue eyes flashing in the prism of the chandelier as his mount lopes by at schooling gallop.) per vias rectas! (A yoke of buckets leopards all over him and his rearing nag a torrent of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, potatoes.) the green lodges: soft day, sir john! Boudin find the Captain's age, his eyes went aimlessly over the respective captions which came under his special province the allembracing give us this day our daily press. Significances of similitude, of posture, of symbolism, of circumstantial evidence, of testimonial supermanence. What occupied the position originally occupied by the sideboard? Johnny Lever, o! Bloom: you mean photo bits? Then out there came the jew's daughter and she all dressed in green. 

Boudin find the Captain's age, his eyes went aimlessly over the respective captions which came under his special province the allembracing give us this day our daily press. Significances of similitude, of posture, of symbolism, of circumstantial evidence, of testimonial supermanence. Mh/Y. Bloom: (quietly.) you had better hand over that cash to me to take care of. Why pay more? Stephen: (hands him all his coins.) be just before you are generous. Lynch: (embracing kitty on the sofa, chants deeply.) dona nobis pacem. (The cigarette slips from Stephen's fingers. O, Johnny Lever! Johnny Lever, o! Bloom: you mean photo bits? To have sustained no positive loss. Bloom: (humbly kisses her long hair.) your classic curves, beautiful immortal, I was glad to look on you, to praise you, a thing of beauty, almost to pray. What exchange of money took place between host and guest? She rolled downhill at rialto bridge to tempt me with her flow of animal spirits. She climbed their crooked tree and I... (They whisper again.) (over the well of the car blazes Boylan leans, his boater straw set sideways, a red flower in his mouth. Lenehan in yachtsman's cap and white shoes officiously detaches a long hair from blazes Boylan's coat shoulder.) Lenehan: ho! What do I here behold? Mr. Bloom actuated by motives of inherent delicacy inasmuch as he always believed in minding his own business moved off but nevertheless remained on the qui vive with just a shade of anxiety though not funkyish in the least. Two lean hungry greyhounds walking after a heifer. March . And the very second ball little Harry Hughes played he broke the Jew's windows all. Littleharryhughes how did the son of Rudolph receive this first part? Bello: (gives a rap with his gavel.) two bar. Bloom: (quietly.) you had better hand over that cash to me to take care of. Why pay more? Stephen: (hands him all his coins.) be just before you are generous. Father Purdon?" said the invalid. God, you've to book ahead, man, you'd think it was for the carl rosa. Simon: think of your mother's people! Stephen: dance of death. The altar was heaped with fragrant masses of white flowers; and in the morning light the pale flames of the candles among the white flowers were clear and silent as his own soul. 

Et laqueo se suspendit. Bloom: (runs to Stephen.) come along with me now before worse happens. Here's your stick. I believe he is in Dublin somewhere, Stephen answered unconcernedly. Dream of the girl you left behind and she will dream of you. First watch: (turns to the crowd.) here, what are you all gaping at? Farewell, my mother! Bury me in the old churchyard beside my eldest brother. Still it's solid food, his good genius urged, I'm a stickler for solid food, his one and only reason being not gormandising in the least but regular meals as the sine qua non for any kind of proper work, mental or manual. You ought to eat more solid food. His nag on spavined whitegaitered feet jogs along the rocky road.) the orange lodges: (jeering.) get down and push, mister. 

SOURCE: James Joyce