ULYSSES

Protodrafts

First drafts of 9+2 sections, Spring 1920, draft level 1

MS Buffalo V.A.11, V.A.12, NLI.11A, NLI.11B Draft details

{Prologue: MS V.A.11: U84 14.01-70}
{ms, 1}

By no pomp of pride or mark of mightiness is the wellbeing of a people more surely proven than by |1its tribute of1| solicitude for its own continuance nor can we ever nor can we justly nor can we with justice esteem a nation, which sets small store by and where this quality either is lacking or is set small store by we cannot with justice esteem a nation so little provident, however wide |1be the dominion her realm1|, be |1it she1| ruled never so wisely. For what boots it to gather and to garner if none or weakling be to for none, or weaklings shall come after? Or what is that wisdom, to extol his meat above the man himself, the dead which |1sustains serves for1| life above the living, which death should serve? Plainly |1nought and1| no. If care for progress be absent in vain |1was the house raised and the hearthstone laid to cheer were the rooftree raised|a, to shelter ita| or threshold laid1|.

Yet what boon of all can |1equal vye with1| the bounty of increase. Where it is found the land teems |1with produce1|, where not, is bare: or the barren heath and hillside, this but that the abundant wheatfield of heavy awns, the fertile loam |1of fallows1|, the herds numbered and blessed. So was it |1said |apromised commandeda|1| to |1Abraham the patriarch to1| increase and multiply and it was promised |1him1| his seed should not fail but be numerous: Sacred then and even the pagans saluted on meeting amid the press a matron with child for, if command and promise from |1above on high1| warrant and if the wise of mankind at all times and everywhere establish it, |1for (and1| even the rudest know this |1awe, awe),1| |1sacred revered1| |1above all else should be motherhood motherhood should be above all else1| and its abode a temple |1inviolable inviolate1|.

|1This Such1| was, |1by concurrent witness, witness the writers of Story,1| the practice in our land from the earliest times where leechcraft was ever held high in honour. Not to The sick, the wayfarer, the stricken were the objects of wise care. Not to speak of their hostels, their sweating chambers |1& leperyards |aand plaguegravesa|1|, their houses of sorrow, their greatest leeches: as the |1O'Shiels Shiels |athan whom none was wisera|1|, the O'Lees and the O'Hickeys with many others, record in their books the lore of herbs and |1maladies with their1| cures as we may read even now with much instruction how the trembling hand was |1cured made whole1| and how the withering
{ms, 2}
the boyconnell too and the wave or loose flux. Now surely in such and so varied learning we shall not miss a tender care for birth. And in fact |1it is so so it was1|. Before born the babe |1was blessed had bliss1|. Within the womb he won worship. |1Food and couch A couch and food1| were |1ready set1| for her than should bear him and |1cleanness clean clothes1| and the service of midwives and what drugs were needed or surgical tools in the high bright wellbuilt fair home of mothers when|1, being |athena| far gone,1| she |1came there drew thither1| to lie in, |1far gone,1| her |1time near term |aaccomplished comea|1|.

Nor has this |1usage failed in wont stopped short of1| our time. The |1Coombe hospital, the Rotunda hospitals of the Coombe, Rotunda of the National Maternity Hospitals1|, |1are |arise standa|1| among us, where day |1after following1| day |1is fostered1| the neverfailing fount of life |1is fostered1| |1and so so that1| the tale of creatures |1does shall1| not |1ever1| lessen, for nature renews it |1ever from of1| her bounty which gives giving, if but to her one gift be given, |1her an1| hundredfold yield. In this greater than we and in her strength greater for the earth will suffer that chasms to rend her |1loins1| and the sea to be sundered to her depths and yet show no worse, so strong |1is nature in them in them is nature1|, while her chief child faints under a light load, wailing comes to birth and is |1borne born1| with |1as a child of bondchild into1| woe. But woe |1to unto1| them that know not |1this such1| woe. Sweet woe whereof joy comes. |1If hallowed was |aHallowed is If halloweda|1| the ground where |1our dead are laid lie our dead1| thrice hallowed |1should that house be be that house1| where life |1comes burgeons1| to new life, love |1to fruition |aflowers |bhas flower and fruit bears fruit and flowerb|a|1|.

{Section I: V.A.11: U84 14.71-122}
{ms, 2}

|1Levin lightened, sudden from south.1| Bloom, not unmindful, lifted the k |1pressed the bell pushed the nightbell |abutton knoba|1|. |1That scene was known to him To him were known those scenes1|, who had seen many |1for in Holles street inasmuch as in that street Holles1| where the doorbell rang |1he had dwelt in rough years with one dear in past days with |aone maid dear his liefest lovea| he had dwelt1|. Nine years |1|acircling wheelinga|1| since then were flown. Gently he pressed, knowing the pangs of birth, fearful to bring fear. Pity led him and led on with lust to wander though awe withheld.
{ms, 3}

Of that house |1Andrew A.1| Horne is |1lord master1|. He goes |1And there There1| are the white spotless couches set, |1seventy in all (three score and ten)1|, with |1pillars posts1| of shining gold to give rest to his seventy charges, |1the those1| pregnant mothers. |1Betimes1| He goes forth |1betimes1| on his round bringing to life, healing, with hands of comfort and he rejoices to look upon his home where those wombs await him. |1Their eyes turn towards him |aAll their eyes turn towards him ever towards him their eyes turna|1| for |1they long1| to be delivered and |1more1| to bring forth |1they long1|.

|1Two guardians are there Watchers 2 there are1|, nurse Callan |1and nurse with Hester1| Quigley. They to see that nothing |1lacks and lack, |awhitevested,a|1| |1tending hour by hour hour by hour tending1|, |1whiterobed, |awhitevesteda|1|, |1two1| soothing sisters, they watch by turns. The old they still, sustain the young, in twelve months thrice five hundred they. Vigilant |1ever for a at every1| sign |1they move softly softly they move1|.

Softly the |1halldoor opened |aheavya| portal swung open1| of the house and to Bloom greeting whiterobed nurse Callan |1answered with fair words with fair words answered1|, |1and She1| bade him |1deprecant1| in. |1To her he was known. |aTo her of old time To her from old timea| unread was known.1| |1She blank1| and he precedent, |1stepped1| soft |1twice1| on the hall mat |1twice stepped1|. She asked his news which softly he |1told gave1|, hat holding in |1humble1| hand, |1to not molest loth to irk1|, in Horne's house. Much in nine years had come to pass. Once her in |1a |aDublin's Dublina|1| throng |1he had met met |ahada| he1| and |1when she bowed to her bowing1| had not |1quick1| doffed. Now pardon |1of her1| he craved, for |1unread good1| pleas |1she kindly gave allowed by her1| that that to him seen sudden face hers so young then |1had1| seemed. Light her eyes |1lit swiftkindled1|. Bloom of blushes |1unread brought1| Bloom's |1words unread word1|.

|1As1| Then |1when1| her eyes watchful perceived his |1dark mien solititous she asked if feared garb dark adread feared she1| grief for him. Glad was she |1now1| if before afraid. |1He thereat Whereat he courteous1| asked |1how Doctor O'Hare died Doctor O'Hare some tidings sent1|. Earnest mien then her face took which |1late1| awhile |1ere1| had |1roseate shone shone roseate1|.
{ms, 4}
With veiled eyes |1looking1| low she said poor Doctor O'Hare was in heaven, she |1said told1|. |1Bloom was sorry Sorry was Bloom1| to hear that. In his hat high grave |1deep1| he |1sad |asadlya|1| looked mute. Nurse Callan sighed |1pitying ruing1| fate for one so good yet |1unwilling to question God's will God's will to question unwilling1|. Bloom she told how |1this passed in Scotland this in Scotland |ahada| passed1|, |1stomach cancer the cause the |adirea| cause stomach cancer1|. |1His Bloom's1| mute, |1condolent ruminant1| head, in held hat |1unread |adull sadlyºa|1| staring. |1|xmasspriest housel sickmen's oilx|1|

Death thus end to beginning links. On earth's face race afar race |1appears follows1|: appears and dies: but the deathless urge |1of to1| |1life ever onward ever onward life1| drives. Burdens we bare, burdened we, which the unborn must bear, if born.

Her Bloom |1softspeeched soft |aof ina| speech1| of |1Mona Mrs1| Purefoy |1human1| asked. If all well he |1begged craved1| to know. Hard her case nurse Callan said, hard the birth, if born, would be. Bloom on mat with hat hearkened. U.P. Josie ringletted hair he knew but |1nature's1| law strong, stern. Rueful he heard of pangs |1prolonged outdrawn1|: Woman's woe |1vicarious with wonder1| feeling |1a misteyed. The weteyed1| woman's tale Bloom heard. |1With1| So young she was, Young she is youth he longed for |1prolonged outdrawn1|. He on her |1looked as then as then looked1|. Nine years |1gone1|. |1A Virgin. |aAnd Virgin still. Yet |bvirgin blankb| she. A maid.a|1| Bloom |1pondered these things mute all weighed1|. Bloodflow nine Nine twelve bloodflows chiding her childless.

{Section II: MS V.A.11: U84 14.123-276}
{ms, 4}

And |1as whiles1| they spake the door of the chamber |1on the upon their1| left |1was1| opened and there |1came forth |awas heard nigheda|1| a |1great mickle1| noise |1as him thought1| as of many that |1sat had assembled them1| at meat and |1were made1| merry to their |1much1| desport. And there came |1forth against the place as they stood1| a young scholar of medicine, hardy and noble, that men |1cleped clepen1|
{ms, 5}
Dixon |1junior |afor him thought that sir Malachi had come as said,a|1| and he knew |1Bloom Master sir Leopold1| for it was not long |1time gone1| sithen they had |1met them had ado each with other1| in the house of our |1mother lady1| of misericord where this scholar |1dwelled lay1|. And he said him that he should in with them for to make merry. |1But And |aBloom sir Leopolda| in hope to scape free, said him that he should go other where and for1| he was |1full of cautels and sutle deceits and would not a man of cautels and a subtile |aand the |bsister good nunb| was of |bthat mind his avis |cand repreved this scholarc|b| though she trowed |bnot wellb| he |bhadb| said not sooth but thing that was false of his subtility.a| and his blank would not1| |1And But1| he, this scholar, would not |1have him hear say nay nor do |aher mandement ne have him neithera| in aught1| contrarious to his list so |1he sir Leopold1| went with him into |1that this1| chamber for there many and he was |1nothing loth fain1| to rest |1him for a space|a, in sooth,a|1| being |1weary sore1| of limb after |1his so1| many marches |1environing1| and sometime venery.

In |1that this1| chamber sat at board a merry fellowship of |1scholars the most lustiest1| and they hailed |1Master Bloom sir Leopold1|, crying |1lustily amain1|, Welcome, |1sir pardee1|. With right goodly cheer was that board decked of |1salty well salted1| fishes |1withouten heads |aand oil of fatness of the olive and the lifegiving bread of fecund wheata|1| and bread and |1with a plenty of aleflasks aleflasks a great plenty1|. And |1they the scholars |aall the board abouta|1| with one accord they bade him |1to1| be of them and |1to1| and |1that this1| scholar let pour for him a draught of fellowship |1and |aaa| halp thereto |athe which |ballb| they drank every eacha|1| whereof |1he sir Leopold |ato pleasure hima|1| took |1but little |aonly apertly somewhat in |bfriendship fellowship |cfor he drank never no alec|b|a|1| but anon full part privily |1he1| voided it |1clean the more part1| into his neighbour glass |1|afor he drank never no alea|1|, he nothing of that will perceiving. |1So Thus1| sat |1he |aMaster Bloom sir Leopolda|1| with those |1merry drunken1| scholars. Loth to move |1in from1| Horne's house.

This meanwhile this good mercy nun stood by the door and |1bade begged1| them of their gentleness |1of |aby at the reverence ofa| Jesu |aour alther liege lorda|1| to leave their wassailing for there was one above, a gentle dame, whose time hied fast. I marvel, said sir Leopold, it be not come or now |1|afor that meseemsa| it dureth overlong in the coming1|. And |1|athere wasa| he was ware |aof & sawa|1| a |1scholar franklin1| |1that1| hight Lenehan that heard him on that side the board|1, one elder that was older1| than any of the tother and to him sir Leopold for that he known to sir Leopold of him |1by cause they were |afellowknights fellowsa| in the one emprise1|,.º But, said sir Leopold to him |1eke by cause he was elder1|, or it be long too she will bring forth by God his
{ms, 6}
grace and have joy for she |1is in marvellous pains hath waited marvellous long1|. And the |1squire franklin |athat had drunkena|1| said |1missing1|, Expecting each moment to be her next. Also he took the cup that stood afore him for him needed |1never1| none asking |1nor desiring him to drink1| and |1now drink, said he, and1| he |1drank quaffed1| as far as he might to their both's health for he was a passing good man of his lustiness. |1Now drink, said he and And1| sir that was the meekest knight that ever sat in hall, pledged him courtly in the cup. Woman's woe with wonder feeling.

Now let us speak of that fellowship that was there to the intent to be drunken, an they might. There |1were was a sort of scholars, that is to wit, Dixon, yclept junior, with other his fellows.1| Dixon, |1yclept junior, and1| Lynch and Madden, scholars of medicine, and the franklin |1that1| hight Lenehan and one from Alba |1Longa1|, |1one one1| Crotthers, and the young |1knight1| Stephen |1that had mien of a |afriar frerea|1| that was at head of the board and a jester Costello, than men clepen Punch Costello |1|afor things all along upon a masterya| of him gested1| (and of all them, |1young Stephen reserved reserved young Stephen1|, he was the most drunken) and that demanded |1ever still1| of more ale) and beside the meek sir Leopold but on |1sir young1| Malachi they waited for that he promised to have come and such as intended to no goodness said how he had broke his advow. And sir Leopold sat with them for he |1had bore |afasta|1| friendship to sir Simon and to this his son young Stephen |1and for that his languor led him there |awhere |bafter longest wanderingsb| insomuch asa| they feasted him for that time in the honourablest manner1|. Ruth led him, |1knight,1| |1love1| led on, with lust to wander, yet loth to go.

For they were |1right witty1| scholars. And he heard their |1arguments quarrels, each gen other, |aas touching birth and righteousness,a| young Madden1| maintaining that |1in put1| such case it were hard the wife to die (for it had so fallen out |1a matter of some years ago1| with a woman of Dublin in |1that Horne's1| house that now was trespassed out of this world) and the self night next before her death |1all1| they had taken counsel) and they said farther she should live because in the beginning they said the woman should bring forth in pain and travail and wherefore they said that were of this imagination said affirmed how young Madden had said truth for he had
{ms, 7}
conscience to let her die
. And |1some not few1|, and of these was Lynch, were in doubt that the world was |1now1| right evil governed as it was never other, howbeit the mean people thought |1meant believed it1| otherwise, but the law |1and nor1| his |1canons judges1| did provide no remedy. This was scant said but all cried with one voice the wife should live |1as well as other1| sith she was God's creature, and the babe to be die |1so little and little |awhat with argument and what for their drinking,a|1| they waxed hot |1upon that head |awhat with argument and what for their drinking,a|1| but the franklin Lenehan was promt to pour them ale so that at the least way mirth |1should might1| nothing fail. |1Then |aTo whom Thena|1| the young Madden showed all the whole affair and when they had heard that case how that she was dead and her goodman |1husband1| for |1holy1| religion |1sake1| would not let her death whereby they all were wondrous grieved. To whom the young Stephen had these words following: |1Sir Sirs1|, pity is well |1and murmur |ais ekea| oft |awith amonga| low folk1| but if pity be meet here |1for this born child1|, how then for them those unborn that we daily do to death. For |1sir sirs1|, he said, our lust is brief but nature, giving it, had other ends. Then said Dixon junior to him that hight Punch Costello wist he what ends. But he had overmuch drunken t and the best word he could have of him was he would ever dishonest a woman, whoso she were, |1upon occasion |awere shea| wife or maid or leman, on occasion if it so fortuned him to be delivered of his |alanguor lustihooda|1|. Whereat young Stephen |1presently1| poured him ale in his cup, saying it was well said if not well done. And Crotthers of Alba Longa sang praise of that beast the unicorn |1a licomo1| that the which as sir |1Binnetto Malachi |aafter |bsirb| Binnettoa|1| saith |1how1| once in a thousand years |1comes he cometh1| by his |1horns horn |abut he |btook them to witness pricked forward with their jestin jibes to himward wherewith they did malice himb| all & several would witnessa|, by saint Bastardry that for his privities he was able to do any manner of thing that lay in man to do.1| Thereat laughed they all |1jocundly1| only sir Stephen and sir Leopold |1that which1| never durst laugh too open for but |1some a strange1| humour |1which he would not bewray1|, but he had pity for her who bare, whoso she |1was were1|. Then spake young Stephen|1, orgulous,1| of |1holy mother1| church, of law and canons, of birth |1wrought1| by wind |1|aof seeds of brightnessa| and demons1| as divers fable. Also th he showed how in the third month of bigness of the mother a soul |1rational1| was made and how in all our
{ms, 8}
|1holy heavenly1| mother foldeth |1ever1| souls for God's glory |1what though the earthly mother die |ayet should she die, by canon yet should the earthly mother, bringing forth beastly, die, by canon whereas the earthly mother that was but a dam to bring forth beastly should die, by canon for so saith |bthe seal of he who |chath holdethc| the fisherman's seal, even he that |cblessedc| Peter on which rock was holy church against for all ages buildedb|a|1|. So all they bachelors |1then1| asked of sir Leopold |1and it he said as it was informed him what would he in like case so jeopard her person as risk life to save life1|. A wariness of mind he would answer as fitted all and said |1dissembling1| as it was informed him |1so and agreeing also with his experience |ain case of so seldomseen an accidenta| by |aPatrick rock saltpetrea|1| that it was good |1that holy church with for that mother church belike at1| one blow had birth and death pence. |1|aand in |band so in Inb|a| such sort deliverly he scaped their question and Dixon junior swore by the mass sir Leopold had said pregnant saying. That is truth, then said Dixon junior, and |aby the mass or I erra| as pregnant word.1| Which hearing young Stephen was a marvellous glad man and he |1swore averred1| that |1|athey hea| who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord1| for he was |1ever1| of a wild humour when he had |1much unread1| drunken|1.

Now and1| that he was even |1now1| in that taking it appeared eftsoons.

But sir Leopold was passing grave, maugre his word, by cause he still had pity of |1shrillshrieking women the terrorcausing shrieking of shrill women1| that were |1with child brought to bed1| and he was minded of his good lady |1Marion1| that had borne him an only manchild which in his 11th day on live had died |1and no man of art could save so dark is destiny1| and she was wondrous stricken at heart for |1her babe so dead that evil hap1| and h to his burial, sore weeping, did him on a fair white corselet of lamb's wool, the flower of the flock, lest he might perish utterly and lie |1akale blank1| (for it was that time |1in about the1| midst of the winter): and now sir Leopold that had of his body no manchild for an heir looked upon him, his friend's son |1and was shut up in sorrow for his forepassed happiness1|, and as |1unread sad1| as he was that him failed a son of |1like parts and1| gentle courage |1for all accompted him of real parts1| so grieved also he in no less measure for young Stephen for that he lived riotously and murdered his goods with whores.

{Section III: MS V.A.11—V.A.12: U84 14.277-428}
{ms, 8}

About that present time young Stephen filled full all cups that stood empty of their portion |1so as there remained but little mo, if some of the prudenter had not shrouded their approaches from him that still plied it very busily1| and who, praying for the intentions of the sovereign pontiff, he gave them for a pledge the vicar of Christ |1that what also1|, as he judged, was with, by all signs and tokens, vicar of Bray. Now drink we of this chalice,
{ms, 9}
he said, and quaff ye this strong mead which is not |1indeed parcel of1| my body but the bodiment of my soul. And he showed them fully proudly coins of the tribute and goldsmiths' notes |1to the worth of three pounds, |afive tena| shillings,1| that he had for certain sweet songs he had writ that were printed. They all admired to see that riches and drank to his more health. |1And to them his words were these as followeth. For …1| For, he said, as the ruins of time build mansions in eternity so will the thorn tree, blasted by the winds of desire, become |1from a bramblebush1| to be the rose upon the rood of time. In the womb of a woman the word is made flesh but in the spirit of the maker all flesh that passes is made into the word that shall not pass away. Omnis caro ad te veniet. No question but her name is puissant, omnipotentia supplex, |1that is, |ato wit,a| |aas Bernardus saitha| an almightiness of petition,1| whom we call mother most venerable |1our mighty mother, she that aventried our Agenbuyer1|. But or she knew him and was but the creature of her creature, vergine madre, figlia di tuo figlio, or she knew him not and then stands she in the one denial or ignorance with Peter Piscator |1that |alaid carrieda| the house that Jack built,1| and Joseph the Joiner |1patron of |athe happy death of alla| unhappy marriages, parce que qui l'avait mise dans cette fichue position, c'était le pigéon sacré nom |ad'une d'una| pipe1|. Entweder transsubstantiality oder consubstantiality but in no case subsubstantiality. And all cried out as one man: Out upon |1subject it1| for a very |1varlet scurvy1| word. A pregnancy without joy, he said, a birth without pain, a body without blemish, a belly without bigness. Let the |1simple lewd1| with faith and |1ardour fervour1| and veneration worship with courage. |1Will we withsay & withstand.1|

Hereupon Punch Costello |1beating with his fist the board1| would sing |1Staboo Stabella1| a bawdy |1ballad catch |aof a |bmaid wench |cthat was putc|b| in pod of a soldier |bin Almainb|a|1| which |1he did now begin now begin he did1|

The first 3 months she was not well, Staboo
{ms, 10}

when nurse Quigley |1came blank1| to the door and bade them hist, ye should shame you, |1nor was it not meet as she remembered them,1| being her mind was to have all orderly against lord |1Horne Andrew1| came |1so that as she was jealous1| no turmoil might shorten the honour of her guard. |1It was an ancient and a sad matron.1| Nor did her |1word hortative1| want his effect |1and for straightways1| Punch Costello was of them all embraided and they reclaimed him with civil rudeness |1to countervail the same1| and with menace of blandishments |1|xothersx|1| |1|aA murrain sieze hima| What a devil he |aunread would be ata|1| to shut up his drunken drool out of that |1like a |agood blesseda| ape, |athe gooda| sir Leopold |aknowing that had |bthe flower of quiet for his cognisance for his cognisance the flower of quietb|, |bmargerain gentle,b| advisinga| the time's |ahaste occasiona|1|. In Horne's house rest should reign.

This passage was scarely by when |1Dixon junior Master Dixon1| asked of Stephen when he purposed to take |1orders the vows1| and he said obedience in the |1cradle womb1|, |1chastity and in the tomb but1| involuntary poverty all his days. Master Lenehan at this said he had heard of those nefarious designs and how |1as he heard counted,1| he had besmirched the lily virtue of a confiding female which was corruption for minors and, making merry, they asked if he were now a happy father. But he said he was the eternal son and |1a very virgin lecher the very virgin of lechers1|. Thereat they waxed merry and remembered him of his |1bridaltory bridal1| rite for the |1disrobing and1| deflowering of the spouse, she |1to be1| in white and saffron, in saffron and scarlet |1he her groom1|, with burning of nard tapers and much else till she was unmaided and |1made got1| to engender. And he gave them the an excellent |1hymen1| song out of the Maid's Tragedy by |1those delicate poets1| Master |1John1| Fletcher and Master |1Francis1| Beaumont that was writ for the twining of lovers: To bed, to bed was the burden |1that is played sweetly on the virginals1|. And well met they were, said |1Master1| Dixon, but|1, by my troth,1| better were they named Beau mount and Lecher for ofº
{ms, 11}
suchº a mingling much might come. And Master Stephen said indeed |1to his best remembrance1| they had |1but the1| one wench between them |1& she of the stews |ato make shift with in delights noble |bwhich was the custom of the countryb|a|1| for life ran very high in those days. And greater love than this, said he, no man hath that he lay down his wife for his friend. Go thou and do likewise for thus |1or words to that effect1| spake Zarathustra, |1sometime1| regius professor of French letters in the university of Oxtail on the Char nor breathed there ever that sage to whom mankind was more beholden. |1Orate pro me.1| Seek unto him, he said, and I will bring you |1into a unto the1| land |1of behest1|, he said, |1even from Horeb and from Pisgah and |afrom Sinai and froma| the horns of Hatten unto a land1| flowing with milk and money. |1|aFor Asa|, he said, the ends and finalities of all things accord in some mean and measure with their inception and their originals, the same |amanifolda| concordance which has led for the growth from birth accomplishing by retrogressive metamorphosis that lessening towards the final most consonant with its the nature of that which suffers, so is it with us from cradle to the grave. Over our birth the aged sisters bend: we wail, |aseek battena|, live, |afuck clasp & sundera|: above us dead they bend. Among the bulrushes |asaved from watera| of old Nile |aa ona| wattled bed: on Pisgah of Bajan the bed a jackal's cave. And as no-one knows what the ubicity of his |agrave tumulusa| nor to what |aineluctablea| processes we shall thereby be ushered so nor whether to Tophet or a land of promise in the like way is all hidden when we would backward see from what region of remoteness |aour thea| whatness |aof our whonessa| has fetched his whenceness.1| Thereto Master Costello cried |1to him1| lustily: Dedalus, song. And Master Stephen he, loudly, bade them lo |1wisdom had built herself a house1|.

Behold the mansion reared by dedal Jack
See the malt stored in many a |1fluent refluent1| sack
In the proud cirque of Ivan's bivouac.

And more would he have rehearsed but a noise |1without1| gave him sudden pause. |1Loud1| On left looming Thor thundered. |1The god in anger1| awful |1hammerwight a hammerhurler1|. And master Lynch bade young Stephen have a care to witwanton for the god was angered for his hellprate |1and paganry1|. And young Stephen |1that had erst challenged to be so doughty1| waxed pale |1and shrank together1| as he |1heard as tasted that storm and1| they could all mark and his heart shook within |1his the cage of his1| breast. Then some mocked and |1Punch Costello fell hard to drinking which Lenehan vowed he would do after and he was but a word and a blow1| one or two cried |1braggartly1| for drink and in his fright he swore he wo if the |1fellow Nobodaddy1| above was in his cups he would |1follow not lag behind1| his lead but this
{ms, 12}
only to |1drown his great fear dye his desperation1| as cowed he crouched in Horne's house. He drank indeed and all at one draught to pluck up |1a face of any1| heart for it thundered long |1rumbling1| over the heavens |1so that young Madden |awho was goodly being goodly certain whilesa| not |athe unread of the unread unread unread his booma| perceive1| and Master Bloom |1at his side1| spoke to him calming words |1to slumber his great fear1| |1that it was but advertising how it was no other thing but a hubbub1| noise |1that he heard1|, the discharge |1of fluid|a, look you,a|1| having taken place and |1all1| of the order of a natural phenomen |1of science1|.

{Section IV: MS V.A.12: U84 14.429-473}
{ms, 12}

But was young braggart's fear vanquished by calmer's words? No, for he knew his own wretchedness which could not |1be done away with by words by words be done away with1|. And was he then neither calm like the one nor godly like the other? He was neither as much as he would have liked to be either. But could he not have endeavoured to have found again |1that |aas in his youtha| the1| natural piety that then he lived withal? No Indeed no for grace was not there to give it to him. |1Would Heard1| he then in that thunder a voice of the god |1Bring Forth1| or, what calmer said, a natural phenomenon? Heard? Why he could not forebear hearing both of those things unless peradventure he had |1him1| up |1his1| understanding (which he had not done). For understanding told him that he was in the kingdom of phenomenon where he must certainly one day die as he was too a phen a passing show like the rest. And |1he would would he1| not so die like the rest and pass away? He would
{ms, 13}
not though he must nor would he make more shows |1as according as |amen do with wivesa|1| phenomenon bade him by the law of his kingdom. Then wotted he not of that other kingdom which is the true land of is called |1promises Believe on Me and that is |athe truea| land of behest which is delightful and shall be for ever without alteration where there is also no death |aneither wiving nor motheringa| and no birth at which all shall come as many as believe on it1|? Yes: pious had told him of that kingdom and chaste had pointed out to him the way thither but the reason was that |1on the way1| he fell in with a |1certain1| whore |1of an eyepleasing exterior1| whose name |1was, she said, is1| Bird in the Hand |1of an eyepleasing exterior1| and she beguiled him |1wrongways1| from the true way |1and told him he was a very pretty man1| and |1so1| had him in her grot which is named Two in the Bush or, by some learned men |1also1|, Carnal Concupiscence.

This was that it what all that company |1that sat |athere at commonsa|1| in |1motherly mansion Manse of Mothers1| the most lusted after, and if they met with |1that this1| whore Bird in the Hand |1which was all |aplague,a| foul |amonstersa| within |aand a horde of devilsa|1| they would |1make at her and1| strain hard but they would know her for regarding |1chaste believe on me1| they said it was naught else but notion |1and they could conceive no thought of it1| for, first, unread two in the bush whither she ticed them was the |1very1| goodliest grot |1|afor and it had three doors which werea| dalliance and loth to brood and chamber |alove delightsa|1| and, second, for the |1foulness foul monsters1| they cared not for |1it them1| for preservative had given them a stout shield |1of |aoxgut oxenguta|1| and, third, |1that they might take neither1| no hurt |1might come1|
{ms, 14}
|1to them either1| from offspring, that was a harmful |1dwarf devil1|, by reason of this same shield which was named Killchild. So were they all in their blind fancy, Mr Godly, and Mr Cavil, and Mr Ape |1Franklin Swillale1|, and Mr Dainty Dixon |1Mr False Franklin1| and Young Braggart and Mr Cautious Calmer. Wherein, O wretched company, were ye all deceived for that was the voice of the god that was in a most grievous rage because that he would presently spill their souls for |1these their1| abuses |1which they did against him and their spillings1| done by them contrariwise to his word |1which all forth to bring biddeth which forth to bring brenningly biddeth1|.

{Section V: V.A.12: U84 14.474-528}
{ms, 14}

So Thursday sixteenth June after much drought, please God, rained. |1Some countrymen A bargeman1| coming in |1by water with some turf1| saying |1no seed would sprout1|, the fields looked athirst, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily |1the quags too1|. No use the watering them and on the hills nought but dry flag that would catch at first fire and, for aught they knew, the big wind of last February that did havoc the land |1so pitifully1| was a small thing beside this barrenness. But |1by and by1| as said that evening |1about |aafter sundown |bbig{sup>{small>|c, the wind sitting in the west,c| biggish swollenb| clouds to be seen and some lightnings at first and aftera| past1| ten of the clock one great
{ms, 15}
stroke with a long thunder and all running pellmell within doors for the |1rain smoking shower1| the men making shift |1shield cover1| for their straw hats with a |1clout or1| kerchief, the women all |1ahaste ahurry1| with kirtles up |1soon as the pour came1|. In Ely Place, Baggot Street, |1thence through1| Merrion Green up to Holles Street a lot of water running that was before bone dry but no stroke after that first. Over against Duke's Lawn Mal. Mulligan met Seymour |1of Trinity College |athat was |beven returned new got to townb| from Mullingar with the coacha|1| he bound home and he to |1Andrew1| Horne's |1but1| |1would tell him of a |apretty |bfair |ccomely skittishc|b|a| wench |ahe |bknew fanciedb|a|1| and so then both on |1to Horne's1| together. There Bloom |1sitting snug1| with |1some a party1| wags|1, likely fellows among them Dixon jun., and Ja. Lynch and doc Ja. Lynch, Doc. Madden and young Stephen D.1| for a languor he had before but was now better, he having dreamed tonight a strange |1dream fancy1| and mistress Purefoy there to be delivered, and poor body, two days past her time and the midwives sore put to it, God send her |1quick1| issue. In sum, a |1marvellous infinite1| great fall of rain that will much increase the harvest |1but yet1| some believe after wind and water fire shall come |1for a |aphecy |bprophecy prognosticationb|a| of Malachi1| to have three things in all but this |1a mere fetch1| for wives women |1bairns1| and such cattle yet sometimes they are found |1right in the right guess1| there was no knowing how.

{Section VI: V.A.12: U84 14.529-650}
{ms, 15}

With this |1came1| up Lenehan |1comes1| to |1Stephen the hither end of the table1| to say how the letter was in that night's gazette and he made a show as if he could find
{ms, 16}
it about him (for he swore |1with several oaths1| he had been at pains about it) but on the persuasion of Stephen he gave over to search and |1sat by was bidden to sit near by which he did mighty brisk1|. He was a kind of sport gentleman that |1many took went1| for a merryandrew or honest pickle and what belonged of women, horseflesh or scandal in the town he knew it pat. To tell the truth he was mean in his fortunes and for the most part hankered about the stews |1|aand low taverns |bat nights till broad dayb|a| with crimps and ostlers |aand other gentlemen of the gamea| of whom he picked up loose gossip1| |1and. He took his ordinary at1| the boiling cook's but if he had |1gotten1| but a mess of broken victuals into him or a bare tester in his pocket in a company he could always bring himself off with his tongue, some pretty story he had from a punk or whatnot that every mother's son of them would burst their sides. The other, Costello that is, on hearing of this asked was it some poetry or a tale. Faith no, |1he says,1| Will, |1he said,1| (that was his name), 'tis all about |1horned cattle Kerry cows1| that are to be all |1killed butchered1| presently along of the |1pest plague1|. But they can go hang, says he, for me with their |1meat bully beef1|, pox on it. There's as good fish in this tin as ever came out of it and very friendly he offered to take of some salty sprats |1which he had been looking wishly on1| that stood by for this was indeed the chief design of his embassy. |1What Mort aux vaches1|, says Mr |1Frank Will1| that |1was had been unread1| articled to a merchant in Bordeaux and he spoke French like a gentleman |1too |a|bfor he was wisful from a child and from a child he had been a donothing |cdonaught donoughtc| and then would study to be a divine but that the wenches misled him.b|a|1| What? says Mr Leopold that was earnest to know the |1matter drift1| of it, will they slaughter all. I
{ms, 17}
|1protest I1| saw them but this morning going to the |1English1| boats, says he. I can scarce believe 'tis so bad as is |1put about blank1|. |1'Tis perhaps You are misinformed He said it was very likely1| the hoose or the timber tongue |1for he had experience of the like, |aviza| |agreasya| hoggets and springers and1| |1|xof Gavin Low's brood cattle, meadow auctions, having been at one time |aof his lifea| an actuary for Mr Joseph Cuffe's, a |aworthya| salesmaster |athat drove his tradea| in Prussia streetx|1| But Mr Stephen a little moved but very handsomely told him no such matter that he had a letter from the emperor's chamberlain that was sending two of the |1respectablest horseleeches bestquoted horseleech1| in |1his kingdom all Muscovy |awith a bolus or two of physica|1| to take the bull by the horns. |1Ay Come come unread plain dealing1|, says Mr Lynch and if he'll find himself on the horns of a dilemma, says he, if the bull's Irish. Irish she is |1|aor I'll swing for ita|1|, says Mr Stephen, |1sending and he sent1| the ale |1purling1| about |1|ato all who had lust for ita|1|. An Irish bull in an English chinashop. I conceive you, says Mr Dixon, and that same bull was sent |1here to the our island1| by the bravest cattlebreeder of them all that was the jolly fat farmer |1Mr a certain1| Nicholas Breakspeare with an emerald ring in his nose. |1That's true True1| for you, says Mr Lynch |1cross the table1|, and a bullseye too into the bargain |1and a properer A sleeker1| and a |1handsomer plumper1| bull never shit on a buttercup |1on clover on shamrock1|. He had a pair of golden horns on him and a coat of cloth of gold and |1a1| sweet smoky breath so that all the women of |1Ireland the country |a|bleft leavingb| their pots and rolling pinsa|1| followed after him, hanging daisychains on his horns. |1To be sure he was gelded by farmer Breakspeare that |aTo be sure he was gelded in good order by four doctors at the command of farmer Breakspeare that Before he came Farmer Nicholas, that was a eunuch, had him properly gelded by seven |bdoctors |ccowdoctors cowcatchersc|b| that were no better off than himself |xBe off now, says he, with a farmer's blessing and withº he slapped his posteriors very soundly. |aBut the slap and the gelding stood him frienda|x| |xby our Virgin Motherx| but |bfor all to make up forb| that hea|1| taught him |1his trade but a trick worth two of the other so that1| maid, wife and widow to this day |1all1| affirm they would rather
{ms, 18}
any day |1of the month1| whisper in his ear |1in |aa dark the dark of aa| cowhouse1| or get a lick or two on the neck from his |1ticklish1| tongue than lie with |1any pretty fellow the finest strapping young ravisher1| between in the four fields of |1all1| Ireland. Another then put in his word: and they dressed him up, says he, in a shift and petticoat with a tippet round his neck and built a barn for him with a fine manger in it full of the best grass for by this time our bull was grown so he fat and heavy that he could scarce walk to pasture. To remedy which they brought him his good feed of fodder in their apronlaps, and, as soon as his belly was full, he used to rear up on his hind quarters to show them a mystery and |1bellow and roar roar and bellow1| to that extent they were struck with wonder. Ay, says a third, but worse than that he grew so pampered he would have nought in the land but green grass growing for himself and the |1native1| herd |1(for green was the only colour that was to his mind)1| and if ever he got scent of a husbandman that was sowing as much as a handful of mustard or a bag of rapeseed he'd run amok over half the countryside rooting up with his horns whatsoever was planted. To cut it short all the men of the island seeing no help was |1for it toward1|, as their |1ungrate1| women, old and young, were all of the one mind, made a raft of timbers and loading themselves and their chattels aboard |1they set all masts erect, spread 3 sheets on the wind, ran up the Jolly Roger and1| pushed off from the land in quest of
{ms, 19}
better |1beyond the main of America1| which was the occasion of the composing of that spirited song

|1Pope Peter's but a pissabed.
A man's a man for a' that.
1|

{Section VII: V.A.12: U84 14.651-844}
{ms, 19}

Our worthy |1friend acquaintance1| Mr Malachi Mulligan |1with a friend of his who had lately come to town, it being his intention to take the King's commission1| now appeared in the doorway just as the as student was concluding his apologue |1|aaccompanieda| with a friend of his |aa young gentleman,a| |aMr Seymour his name Mr Seymoura| who had lately come |aupa| to town, it being his intention to take a cornetcy |aand so to the warsa|1|. He relished it was kind enough to express |1his some1| relish of it and all the more as it jumped with a project of his own for the very evil which had been touched |1upon on1|. |1Whereupon Whereat |a(having before |bMr Mulligan now After this homily heb|a| removed from his hat a handkerchief with which he had sheltered it |afrom the rain, they. Theya| both had been surprised by the |awater rain |bit seems,b|a| and for all their mending their pace had been taken water as might be seen by large spots of moisture on mr Mr Mulligan's suit, a |alight hoddena| grey |aworsteda| which was now somewhat piebald1| he handed round to the company a set of |1pasteboard1| cards which he had had printed at Thom's on which |1were to be read in flowing italics these words was this legend printed in flowing italics1|: Malachi Mulligan, Fertiliser. His project, as he went on to expound, was to withdraw from the round of idle pleasures such as form the chief business of |1our men sir |afopp foplinga|1| |1about in1| town and to devote himself to the noblest task for which the bodily organism is destined. |1He had been led into this thought by a consideration of the causes of sterility |awhether caused by a volition inhibitions or volition caused both by inhibition and prohibitiona|, whether the inhibition in its turn was due to conjugal vexations or to motives of |aeconomy thrifta|, whether the prohibition proceeded from defects congenital or from |ablank propensitiesa| acquired. It grieved him, he said, sorely to see the nuptial couch |adeprived defraudeda| of its dearest pledges and to reflect upon so many |abeauteous maidens |bagreeableb| females |bwith rich jointuresb|a| who lose their bloom in cloisters when they might multiply the inlets to happiness, sacrificing the inestimable jewel of their sex when a hundred pretty fellows were at hand to caress had been to him a thorn in the flesh1| |1To this end To end this inconvenience |ahe had havinga| advised with certain good heads he concluded it to be due to a suppression of latent heat1| he had resolved to purchase the freehold of Lambay island from count Considine, a gentleman of note much in favour with
{ms, 20}
our high church party, are there to set up a national fertilising farm |1to be named the Ladies' Friend1| he offering his dutiful services to any female |1who should direct to him1|, no matter what her grade in life, who felt the need of fulfilling the function of her nature. |1This His1| project was very favourably entertained by his audience |1and1| Mr Mulligan |1drove home his contention for |ain suffrage of his contention |bin support of his intention while |che made court to while he drove home his point withc|b|a|1| the scholarly by an apt verse from the classics|1, which as it dwelt upon his memory was a |a conclusivea| confirmation of his contention, |aTalis ac tanta |bdepravatio seculi nostri pravatio hujus seculib|, O quirites, ut matronae |aromanae nostrae |blascivasb| semiviri cuiuslibeta| spadonis Libici titillationes |atesticules pregravibus erectioniunread sublimis testibus ponderosis |bet atqueb|a| erectionibus excelsisa| centurion. centurionum Romanorum |a|bproviterb|a| magnopere anteponunt.1| and for those of ruder wit by analogies of the animal kingdom |1more suitable to their relishes,1| the doe of the forest and her buck, |1the Stoat,1| the drake of the farmyard and |1her the1| duck.

Valuing himself not a little upon his elegance he now applied himself to his person with animadversions of some spleen upon the sudden shower while the company lavished their encomiums upon the project he had advanced. The young gentleman, his friend, bore him out and was full of a passage that had lately befallen him|1, and overjoyed as he was,1| which he could not forbear to tell his nearest neighbour. Mr Mulligan now, perceiving the table, asked for whom were the loaves and fishes and then, seeing Mr Bloom, he made him a civil bow and |1asked if he were said, Pray, Sir, were you1| in need of
{ms, 21}
any professional assistance |1that we can give1|? |1Mr Bloom Who, upon his offer,1| thanked him very heartily |1though preserving his proper distance,1| and made return that he was come there to about a |1lady blank of Horne's house1| that was in an interesting condition |1from woman's woe, poor body, |aand he here fetched a deep sigha|1| to know if her happiness had |1yet1| taken place. One of the company there |1rallied him upon his plan,1| asking Mr Mulligan |1would he give also a guarantee by asking, when was it known blank1| he smote himself |1at the middle below the diaphragm1|, saying |1with an admirable imitation of |amistress unread Mother Grogana| (|aan a mosta| excellent woman of her sex though 'tis pity she's a trollop |atooa|)1|, There's a belly that never bore a bastard. This was so happy a conceit that it renewed the storm of mirth and threw the whole room into the most violent agitations of delight. He had run on in the same vein but that his |1mimicry mimicking1| was arrested by a larum in the antechamber.

The young gentleman |1having treated himself and his next listener, who was none other than the Glasgow student, to some cordial waters1| had just reached the salient point of his narration was still narrating to his neighbour.

At this point the listener who was none other than the student from Aberdeen congratulated in the liveliest fashion with the young gentleman and, interrupting the narrative at a salient point, |1desiring desired1| his vis a vis |1|aby witha| a polite beck1| to be so kind as to |1have the obligingness to1| pass him a flagon of cordial waters, by a questioning poise of his head (a whole century of polite breeding had not achieved so nice a gesture!) to which was united an equivalent but contrary balance of the bottle asked him as plainly as was ever asked in words
{ms, 22}
if he might treat him with a cup of it. |1|aMais,a| Bien sûr,1| That you may, said the young gentleman, |1cheerily and1| very opportunely. There wanted nothing but this cup to crown my felicity. But was I left with |1a bare only a1| crust in my wallet and |1a draught some pure water1| from the well |1My God,1| I could |1not1| find it in my heart |1to blame kneel down upon the ground and thank heaven for1| my lot. With these words he took a complacent draught of the cordial, slicked his hair and popping his hand into his bosom drew forth a |1|apicturea|1| locket that hung from a silk ribbon, |1the very same that very1| picture which he had cherished ever since her fair hand had wrote on it upon it therein. Gazing upon the picture with a world of tenderness, Ah, sir, he said, |1to see her was to adore her Had you but seen her |athen |bat that moment |cthat evening by the dim lake at that affecting instant in such an artless disorder, |dof so melting an expression, believe me,d| you too, |dsir Monsieurd|, had been impelled either to deliver yourself into the hands of so fair an enemy or to quit the fieldc|b|a|1| |1I declare,1| I was never so touched in all my life. How happy will that man be |1to whom she will concede the last |ato whom she will bless with her whom that tender creature will bless with hera|1| favours! A sigh of affection gave eloquence to his words and, |1replacing having replaced1| the locket, he wiped his eyes and sighed again. |1Just powers above, Beneficent distributor of blessings to all |asublunary thya| creatures,1| how great |1& universal1| must be that sweetest of |1thy1| tyrannies which holds |1subject in thrall1| the |1poet unlettered swain of the glebe1| and the |1polished1| coxcomb |1of the road1|, the free and the bond, the reckless youth |1in the heyday of passion1| and the citizen of maturer years! Yet how mingled and imperfect are all our human joys. Would to God, he cried, that prudence had but |1whispered reminded1| me to take my cloak along. Then had neither we though it rained four showers we were neither of us a penny the worse. But, beshrew me, cried he, clapping hand to his brow, tomorrow's
{ms, 23}
a new day
and it will go hard I |1saw as pretty a row of cloaths not long since in Monsieur Poyntz's |aknow a shop where I can have for a livrea| as pretty a cloak1| as ever |1sheltered kept1| a lady from wetting. Tut, cried Monsieur le fêcondateur, tripping in, my friend Monsieur Moore, |1that a1| most accomplished traveller with whom I have just cracked a bottle, |1tells me is my authority1| that in Cape Horn they have a |1violent1| rain that will wet through any|1, even the stoutest,1| cloak. |1|xa drenching of that violence, he tells me, that it has sent more than one luckless fellow posthaste to another worldx|1| A livre, cries out Monsieur Lynch. |1They The clumsy things1| are dear at a sou. |1No woman of any wit would wear them. My dear Kitty told me she would dance in a deluge before ever she would starve herself in such an ark of salvation for as she said (and this she whispered in my ear)1| Dame Nature has implanted |1it1| in our hearts, |1|aSo that that it has become a household worda|1| that |1|xIl y a deux chosesx|1| there are two |1things actions1| for which nudity, in other |1actions circumstances1| a breach of decorum, is the fittest and indeed the only garment. (and unread the first and the second |1a bath1| — But at this point a bell in the hall, ringing loudly, cut short |1most untimely1| a
{ms, 24}
discourse which has had set out promised for the enrichment of our |1store of1| knowledge.

While all were taken up with vacant hilarity |1of all1| the bell rung and, the good Miss Callan, while all were |1speculating conjecturing1| as to the cause, came in and, having spoken |1a few words1| to the young |1Doctor Surgeon1| Mr Dixon, retired with a low bow to the company. The presence for the moment among a party of debauchees of a woman endued with every quality of modesty and not less severe than beautiful refrained even the humour of the most ribald but her departure was the signal for an outbreak. Strike me silly, Dixon, said Mr Costello, I believe she has rendezvoused you. What, you dog? |1'Tis because he has the bedside manner, You succeed with them? Immensely so,1| said Mr Lynch. A bedside manner it is that they use in the Mater. Have I not seen Sir Mickey O' chuck the nuns |1there1| under the chin? |1Bless me, Lawksamercy!1| r cried the gentleman in |1black the primrose |astomacher vesta|1|, |1No such things happen? feigning a most ladylike voice & |awitha| unbecoming squirmings1| |1You make me feel |aBless me,a| I'm1| all of a |1pickle wibblywobbly1|, doctor. |1Why you're as bad as Father Brady, |athat you area|.1| My Kitty can tell you, said Mr Lynch, |1that's that has been1| wardmaid there |1any time1| these seven months.

{Section VIII: NLI.11A: U84 14.845-1109}
{ms, 1}

Toº revert to Mr Bloom who, after his first coming into the room had been conscious of some impudent mocks from them, but but had borne with them, as the product of |1overheated imagination an age |aupon which it is commonly chargeda| that |acommonlya| has more money than forecast1| the word of Mr Costello was a strange language to him for in truth he nauseated the man that seemed to him a misshapen creature got in some uncouth way & |1prematurely1| born untim |1before his time1|. They were full of extravagancies|1, like overgrown children1| it was true and |1their words words of their tumultuary discussions were difficulty understood1| were not often nice: their testiness and outrageous fire were such that his nature resiled from: nor were they scrupulously tender of the proprieties though their fund of |1strong1| animal spirits spoke in their behalf |1as such as put him in thought of1| that that |1desiderated missing1| link in the chain of beings desiderated by the late ingenious Doctor Darwin. It was now more than the middle span of our existence that he had passed through the thousand vicissitudes of life and being,º of a wary stock and self a man of rare forecast, he had enjoined himself to repress all motions of rising choler and, by intercepting them with the readiest precaution, foster within himself that |1mood of patience fullness of sufferance1| which base minds jest at, the hasty scorn and |1all1| find tolerable and but tolerable. To those who create themselves wits at the cost of feminine delicacy to them he would concede neither to bear the name nor to inherit the spirit of good breeding: and it had revolted him and for such as having lost all forbearance |1have no more to lose can lose no more1| there remained the sharp antidote of |1rebuke experience to cause their insolency to beat a retreat1|. Not but what he could feel with mettlesome youth which is ever for eating |1the tribute1| of the fruit of the tree forbid it |1caring nought for the megrims of |adotards the severea| and the |ainspirations gruntlingsa| of |adotardsa|1| yet no so far forth as to forget humanity upon any condition soever towards a gentlewoman when she was about her lawful occasions.
{ms, 2}
Toº conclude while, from the sister's words, when questioned, he had reckoned upon a speedy delivery he was, however, it must be owned, not a little alleviated by the intelligence that the |1event issue1|, so auspicated after a trial of such duress, now testified once more to the mercy as much as to the bounty of the Supreme Being. |1Accordingly he broke his mind to his neighbour saying that1| To express my notion of the thing, |1said he to his neighbour,1| |1my his1| opinion (who ought not perhaps to express one) is that one must needs have a cold constitution and a cold genius not to be rejoiced by this freshest news |1of the conclusion fruition of her confinement1| since she had been in such pain through no fault of hers. The elegant young spark said it was the husband's fault |1that put her in pod1|, or |1at least1| it ought to be |1unless she be another Ephesian matron1|. I must acquaint you, said Mr Crotthers, |1clapping a hand on the table so as to produce a resonant comment of hilariousness1| |1he holy |aJoseph Joea|1| was here today, a short meagre man with Dundreary whiskers preferring a request to |1see have news of1| Wilhelmina, his life, for so he calls her. I bade him hold himself in readiness for the event for that it would burst anon. Though somewhat stricken in years for my part I |1admire cannot but extol the virile potency of one1| the old bucko |1that who1| could |1still1| knock another child out of her. All then fell to praising of it, each in his way though the same young spark held with his former opinion that another was the man in the gap. Singular, muttered Mr Bloom to himself, the wonderfully unequal |1temper faculty1| of their time modification possessed by them, |1that the puerperal chamber and the dissecting theatre should be the seminary of such unseemly mirth and1| that the mere acquisition of academic honours should suffice to transform |1in a pinch of time1| these votaries of levity into the exemplary practitioners of that art which most men anywise eminent esteem the noblest. But, her he further added, perhaps it is but done to relieve their pentup feelings of awe for I have more than once observed that birds of a feather laugh together.

With what fitness, let it be asked, has this alien |1whom the concession of a gracious prince has admitted to civic rights, of a tenancy at will1| arrog constituted himself |1a the1| lord paramount of |1morals our politics1|? |1Where is now that gratitude which every loyal impulse should have inspired. During the recent war |awas he not an eager applauder of the victories of our foes whenever the enemy had the advantage did he seize the occasion to discharge his piece against the imperial forcesa| while w in the same breath he trembled for the security of his four per cents?1| Not to adduce Has he quite forgotten his own shortcomings? Or is it from being a deluder of others he has become in the end his own |1victim dupe |aas he is also his own enjoyera|1|? |1Far be it from candour to |adrag into the public papers violate the bedchamber ofa| a respectable lady, the daughter of a gallant major, or to cast the most distant reflection upon her virtue but (as it was indeed highly his interest not to have not to have done if he challenged the attention of the public papers of the public papers) then be it so. |aThat unhappy Unhappya| woman, she has been too long & too persistently denied her legitimate prerogative to be subjected now to the comments of the public papers to be in need of any to hear his objurgation with any other feeling than the contempt it deserves. He says this, a censor of morals, who was not did not scruple beneath his own roof and oblivious of the ties of nature to enter into illicit relations with a domestic servant, drawn from the lowest strata of society.1| |1|xIn the question of the grazing landsx| |xand Mr Cuffex| |xwas present when |ahe received at the hand ofa| an eminent cattlebreeder publicly a rebuke couched in terms |aof asa| homely |abut as they werea| straightforward. It ill becomes him to raise that point. Has he himself not a seedfield nearer home which has been lying fallow for the want of a ploughshare?x|1| A habit which is
{ms, 3}
reprehensibleº at puberty is an opprobrium to middle life. If |1he aims at restoring this be his balm of Gilead to restore1| to health a generation of |1sinners unfledged profligates1| let his practice consist better with |1his the1| doctrines |1that now engross his attention1|. His marital breast is the repository of many secrets which common |1decency decorum1| is |1unwilling reluctant1| to adduce. The lewdness of some faded beauty may |1console him supply a wise substitute1| for that other's hardihood who debauched his wife but this exponent of morality natural philosophy is at best a tree which has lost much of its virtue in transplantation |1whose balm1| tree which |1if it was when rooted1| in Gilead is drooping abundant |1in of1| its balm, transplanted |1has lost its its roots have their1| vigour while the stuff that comes away from it is stagnant and inoperative.

Theº |1joyful event of the birth of the heir tidings1| was |1announced by imparted with1| the customary |1whisper imparted circumspection1| by the second |1female1| attendant to the junior resident physician who at once announced to the |1delegates delegation1| that an heir had been born. When he had retired |1with her1| to the women's apartments to assist at the afterbirth the delegates, chafing under the solemnity |1and length of the vigil1| |1imposed1| upon them and hoping to have in the |1joyful1| event a palliation for license, which the absence of abigail and medical officer rendered the easier, broke out |1at once1| into a strife of tongues. In vain the voice of Mr Canvasser Bloom was heard endeavouring to urge, to mollify, to refrain: the moment was too propitious for the display of that discursiveness which seemed the sole bond of union among tempers so varied and divergent. Every aspect of the situation was in turn eviscerated: |1the prenascence the prenatal struggle1| of uterine brothers, the Caesarean operation, the |1rights of1| primogeniture |1& queen's bounty1| of twins, the trigeminal birth and triplets, |1miscarriage & infanticide,1| the recorded instances of multigeminal |1and monstrous1| births and |1these the1| gravest problems of obstetrics and |1jurisprudence forensic medicine1| were discussed |1by some1| with |1as with1| much animation |1awhile while1| as the most popular beliefs and paranoia on the subject of
{ms, 4}
pregnancyº such as the relief that injunction to a pregnant woman not to step over a countrystile lest the navelcord, in consequence of her movement, should strangle |1her the1| foetus and the injunction to her in the case of a |1desire yearning1|, ardently |1& ineffectually1| entertained |1and incapable of satisfaction1|, to touch lay her hand against that |1region part1| of her person which |1has been long usage has1| consecrated |1by long usage1| as the seat of castigation. The instances of harelip and strawberry stain were adduced by |1one1| — as a prima facie and natural explanation of the swineheaded |1and or1| doghaired infants occasionally born in opposition to the Caledonian envoy, whose su theory |1of the plasmic memory1|, worthy of the |1metaphysical traditions of1| the land of his he stood for, was saw in these cases an arrest of embryonic development at a stage antehuman. |1Against both these views was that of a |aA Against both aa|1| foreign delegate of a somewhat bestial cast of countenance sustained with such |1personal fervour heat1| as almost carried conviction the frequen |1frequent cases1| of copulation between women and the males of brutes |1not so much by reference to such stories as that of the Minotaur which the elegant Roman poet has transmitted as rather by his authority being his own avouchment in support of fables such as that of the Minotaur which the elegant Roman poet has presented for us. The impression which his words made on a mobile assembly was immediate but shortlived. It was easily effaced as easily as it had been evoked1| but his view was the impression made on the mobile assembly was easily effaced by an allocution from Mr Candidate Mulligan |1in which he postulated in that vein of pleasantry which |anone more thana| he |aaffected knew how to affecta|, postulating1| as the extremest objects of desire a lawn mower or a wellconducted elderly gentleman of cleanly habits. Contemporaneously with this jest an argument having arisen between Mr Delegate Madden and Mr Candidate Lynch respecting the juridical and theological dilemma in the case of one Siamese twin predeceasing its yokefellow the question was referred by mutual consent to Mr Deacon Dedalus |1who, hitherto. Hitherto1| silent, |1whether in obe of the because the better to show that curial authority in whose garb he was vested or in obedience to an inward |asuggestion voicea|1| delivered briefly and, as some thought, perfunctorily the |1ecclesiastical1| sentence forbidding man to put asunder what God had joined.
{ms, 5}

|1What is the age of the soul of man?1| Hathº the soul not the virtue of the chameleon that clothes itself with the hue of its surroundings? Is |1it she1| gay with the gay, sad if others that are so approach |1its her1| place? Nay, not only her mood changeth but her age as well. Leopold is no more the staid man publicity agent as he sits there. |1They might be his sons1| He is young Leopold of a score of years back. And as such he beholdeth himself, as in a mirror within a mirror|1, that |ain retrospective arrangementa|. That1| figure of then |1is seen1| walking on nipping mornings from the old house in Clanbrassil Street to the High school with his satchel of books and a hunk of brown loaf. Or it is the same, a brace of years |1more later1|, in its first hard hat |1(that was a day!)1|, already on the road, a fullfledged traveller for the family firm, |1equipped1| with a large notebook for orders, a scented handkerchief |1peeping1|, |1a bundle of stuff and samples samples a case of bright trinkets1| and many compliant smiles for |1the worried any young1| housewife, reckoning on her fingertips. The scent, the smile and most of all the dark eyes brought many a commitment home |1at dusk1| to |1the aging father1| Rudolph. |1But hold, the But hold! The1| mirror is breathed on and the young traveller shrivels to an ever |1withdrawing dwindling1| point within the mist. He is the father now, himself, and they might be his sons. Who knows? |1The wise father knows his own child.1| He thinks of a drizzling night in |1Montague lane Hatch street by the bonded stores1|, |1of other meetings1| the first., a |1poor waif waif of the streets1|, a child of shame |1of one and of all for a paltry shilling & |aa hera| luckpenny1|. The |1heavy1| tread of the watch passing|1, heavily caped, the university1|. Bridie Cullen, he will ever remember the name, |1the their1| bridenight. They are entwined in |1the nether |xinteriorx|1| darkness |1the will with the willed and in an instant light shall flood the world1|. But hold! Back! The poor waif flees away through the |1night murk1||1, afraid1|. She is the bride of |1darkness blank: the daughter of the night1| she dare not bear
{ms, 6}
theº |1|asungolden sunnygoldena|1| babe of |1light day1|. No, Leopold. The name and the memory solace thee not. The illusion of |1youthful1| strength is taken from thee and in vain. There is none now |1no Rudolph1| to be for Leopold what was Leopold for Rudolph.

The voices blend and fuse in clouded silence: silence that is infinite distance: and far beyond the mearingstones of cycles of generations |1that have lived1| the soul is swiftly, softly, silently borne. Ever recurrent twilight where grey eve ever descends and never falls on the wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars. She follows a mother with ungainly grace, the mare leading her filly foal, phantoms of the twilight clouds wherein the slim and shapely haunches, the neck so meek, supple and tendonous, the |1apprehensive1| skull are moulded into a grace of mysterious and prophetical speech. And they are gone and all is gone and Kennereth |1of the silvery silky kine1| is barren. And waste and land is the land of |1Tiberia Agendath Netaim1|. What voice rises from Netaim |1the fruitful1| and from vanished Kinnereth? What moan of beasts?, muttering thunder of rebellion? from phantoms of |1longvanished tramping1| herds trooping to their place the river of |1oblivion Somnolence1|? Elk and yak, mammoth and mastodon, the bulls of Bashan and of Babylon, all tread atrampling, uttering their one long silent & universal roar.

All s passed down to the sea of somnolence |1behind Baal the golden to drink |aunsateda| |ain witha| horrible gulpings that inexhaustible and saline flood1| and lo the equine portent |1grew grows1| again, magnified in heaven, nay, to heaven's own magnitude till it looms |1vast1| over the ultimate house of virgo. And lo! wonder of
{ms, 7}
metempsychosis,º it is she, the everlasting bride, the bride, harbinger of the daystar, the bride, |1the ever virgin,1| of — and blank. Martha & Millicent are her handmaids. How serene appears she now in the antelucan hour, coifed with a web of what do you call it gossamer. It floats, it flows about her starborn flesh, and loose it streams and waves, |1violet sapphire, emerald, heliotrope1| in the cold currents of the interstellar wind, winding and, coiling, |1in streaming its1| mysterious caligraphy writing until blank

{Section IX: MS NLI.11A-NLI.11B: U84 14.1110-1439}
{ms, 7}

Costelloº was saying that he had been to school with Stephen |1and years before in Conmee's time1| he asked about many others where they were now. Neither knew. Why think of them,? Stephen said. You have spoken of the past. and its phantoms. If I |1have not called shall call1| them into life across the waters of Lethe will the poor ghosts not troop to my call? Who supposes it? I |1Bous Stephanoumenos1| am the lord |1and giver1| of their life. He laid a coronal of vineleaves on his disordered hair, smiling at his guests. |1That The1| answer and |1your crown those leaves1| will |1fit adorn you1| better, said Lynch |1to him1|, when something more |1and greatly more1| than a |1mouthful capful1| of |1airs |alighta| songs1| can call you father. I say it with the hope of us all for we are your wellwishers that moment hour crowns you |1royally and Stephen.1| I heartily wish it may. O no, Vincent, Lenehan said, laying his hand upon the |1young poet's shoulders shoulder near him1|, have no fear |1for him1|. He could not leave his mother an orphan. The young man's face grew dark: |1all could see that is was sad for him to be reminded of his promise and of his grief:1| he would have answered gone away |1left withdrawn from1| the feast |1perhaps1| but had not Lenehan, the noise of voices allayed the smart. Madden had lost |1money five sesterces1| on Sceptre: so had Lenehan as he told them of the race. |1The flag fell and, huuh! off, scamper,1| The mare ran out freshly with O. Madden up. She was leading |1the field1| |1and but1| on the run home in close order Throwaway outstripped her. Then |1all hearts bounded, even Phyllis waved her scarf1| all was lost. A whacking |1good mount fine whip1|,
{ms, 8}
saidº he, is W. Lane. Four winners yesterday, as many today. What rider is like him? Put him astride a camel or |1a the1| boisterous buffalo and still the victory is his. Let us bear it as was the Roman wont. And yet, he added sighed as he turned towards them- —, poor Sceptre! She is not the filly that she was. Never shall we behold such another, |1a the1| queen of them all. Do you remember her, Vincent? I wish you had seen my queen today, the other answered. |1So radiant, so and young, How young she was and radiant1|, with her tan shoes and her dress of muslin. I cannot tell the right name of it. |1And, O, her Her1| posies |1too1|! |1Mad romp that she is she had pulled her fill as we lay together.1| And in your ear, my friend, he said to Costello, you will not guess imagine who |1was there to bless us when met us as1| we came forth. Conmee himself. The sweet creature turned all colours in her confusion|1. But he blessed us., |afeigning to compose some slight disorder of her dress, a slip of undergrowth had attached itself there for even the trees love her.a| |aand when Whena| he had passed |aI saw her shea| glance at her lovely |aimage echoa| in the little mirror she carries. |aShe saw therea| But he was kind for he had blessed us.1| The gods |1too1| are ever kind, Lenehan said. If I cannot have luck with Bass's mare perhaps I may find his |1ale mead1| |1more fortunate serve me more propensely1|. He was laying his hand |1on the upon a1| winejar. Mulligan saw it and withheld him. He pointed to the stranger, then to the scarlet label. Be |1Be silent Warily1|, he said. The door to infinity may be |1Preserve a druid silence1| Sosimenes told me so, Stephen answered. He has The priests of Egypt have |1taught him their initiated him into the1| mysteries of incarnation |1when he was1|. |1His soul is far away. |aIt is as painful perhaps to be rudely awakened from a vision as to be born.a| Any spot |aof earth |bif beheld intensely enough,b|a| may |abe the door to the immortality |bopen open & may give accessb|a| |ato the incorruptible eon of the gods.a| Sleep. He is far away. immortality. Do you not think it, Stephen?1| The lords of the moon, Sosimenes told me, an |1orangecoloured orangetawny1| shipload from planet alpha of the lunar chain refused to assume the etheric doubles and these were therefore incarnated by |1goldencoloured rubycoloured1| egos from the second constellation.º
{ms, 2}

Asº a matter of fact this |1surmise of Buck M's which was due to a misconception of the most stupid description |ahim being in a sort of trancea|1| was |1preposterous &1| not the case at all. The individual, whose visual organs were now commencing to show signs of life, was as astute or astuter than any living man and anybody who conjectured the contrary would have discovered themselves |1pretty quickly1| mistaken |1pretty quickly1|. For the last two minutes |1or so1| he had been staring at the bottle which was in front of him as it happened on the table blank
and which happened to be in front of him |1|xSome beer, bottled by Bass and Co at Burton on Trentx|1| and was |1certainly1| calculated to attract |1the anyone's1| eye |1no matter whom,1| on account of its scarlet colour. He was |1thinking about some simply recollecting |a2 or 3a|1| private transactions of his own of which the |1other1| two |1mutual friends1| were |1mutually1| as innocent as the babe unborn. Eventually, however, |1both their eyes met &1| he perceiving that the other was |1trying endeavouring1| to help himself to the beer he involuntarily decided to help him himself and accordingly |1he1| grasped the mediumsized recipient |1which contained the desire required |abeer refreshmenta|1| and made a capacious hole in it by pouring a lot of it |1out1| with a considerable degree of attentiveness not to upset any of it about the place.

The debate which ensued was, in its scope and progress, an epitome of life. The debaters were the keenest in the land. The theme they were engaged on was the loftiest for debate. The common hall of Horne's house had never beheld an assembly so representative
{ms, 3}
andº so varied. nor had the old walls of that establishment ever heard a language so encyclopaedic. Crotthers, from in the striking highland garb, |1his face glowing with the briny airs of Caledonia,1| sat beside facing Lynch, whose countenance bore already the signs of premature vice and preternatural cynicism. Below these at the foot of the board and on either side of it the figure of Bannon in his traveller's kit contrasted finely with the primrose elegance and easy manners of Malachi Roland St John Mulligan. The chair of the resident himself stood vacant before the hearth but |1beside it on either side1||1. Next the Scotchman1| was the place assigned to Costello, the eccentric vagrant who while |1opposite to beside1| him in stolid silence sat the the squat |1form person1| of Madden of Thurles. Lastly at the head of the table was the young poet whose found a refuge from his labours of pedagogy in the the convivial atmosphere of Socratic discussion while to right and left of him were the |1|adiverting flippanta|1| prognosticator of, fresh from the hippodrome, and the indominatable wanderer, soiled with the dust of conflicts and sins stained with the mire of |1a deep an indelible1| dishonour, but in whose heart no lure or peril or — or degradation could ever efface the |1voluptuous image |aimage of her, for whose voluptuous favours a hundred gallants would have laid down to enjoy the |bmemory of a image thatb| voluptuous female loveliness which the pencil of Lafayette has preserved for posterity.a|1|
{ms, 4}

Itº had better be said here that the point of view transcendentalism to which Mr Stephen Dedalus' contentions would appear to prove him |1incurably1| addicted runs counter to |1accepted1| scientific methods. Science, it cannot be too often |1said repeated1|, deals with phenomena. The man of science has to face hard facts and explain them as best he can. There are, it is true, some questions which science cannot answer — at present — like the |1two first1| problems submitted by Mr Bloom as to why one is born male or female the problem played by sex in birth. Must we accept the opinion of |1Hippocrates Empedocles of Trinacria1| that the right ovary is responsible for the males or are the too long neglected spermatozoa the differentiating factors or is it |1as the more advanced embryologists Lusk, Leopold, Herschel, Valenti, opine,1| a mixture of both. The second problem raised by the same gentleman is even more vital: infant mortality. |1It is interesting because, as he very pertinently remarks in this connection, we are all born in the same way but we all die in different ways.1| Dr Mulligan blames the hygienic conditions in which our greylunged citizens contract adenoids, pulmonary complaints, etcetera |1from by1| inhaling germs that lurk in dust. Dr Crotthers attributes it to neglect whether private or official. Although the former is undoubtedly true the case he mentions of a nurses forgetting to remove the sponges from the peritoneal cavity is. An ingenious explanation is offered by Mr Lynch that both natality & mortality like all other phenomena tidal movements, lunar phases, |1blood temperature, diseases in general,1| everything, in fact, in nature's vast world from the birth extinction of
{ms, 5}
aº d remote sun to the blossoming of one of the many flowers which beautify our parks is subject to a law of number as yet unascertained. |1But when we are faced with But1| the plain & straight question a child born of normal healthy parents and apparently a healthy child and properly looked after unaccountably dies |1in early childhood or youth1| (though other children born of the same marriage do not) then must certainly, as the poet says, |1gives must give1| us pause. Nature, we may be sure, has her own good reasons for what she does & in all probability these deaths are due to some law of anticipation by which organisms in which morbous germs have taken up their residence (science has now proved conclusively that only the plasmic substance can be said to be immortal) tend to disappear at an increasingly early stage of development, thereby securing a survival of the fittest. Mr Dedalus' remark that an omnivorous being which can masticate, deglute, digest and apparently pass in the ordinary fashion aliments |1such so various1| as cancrenous females of middle age, pottlebellied solicitors blank might find a gastric relief in |1a an innocent1| meal of staggering bob reveals in a very unsavoury light the tendency alluded to above. For the enlightenment of those who perhaps are not so intimately acquainted with the secrets of the |1civic1| abattoir as this morbidminded esthete seems
{ms, 6}
toº be it should perhaps be stated that staggering bob, in the vile jargon of our licensed victuallers, signifies the flesh of a dayold calf newdropped from its mother. In a recent controversy with Mr Bloom he is reported |1to have as having1| stated that once a woman has let the cat into the bag she must let it out again |1and or1| give it life |1(as he phrased it)1| to save her own. At the risk of her own was the |1crushing1| reply rejoinder, none the less effective for the moderate tone in which it was delivered. Meanwhile the skill and patience of the doctors had brought about a happy accouchement. |1missing1| It had been a weary weary while both for patient and physician. All that medical skill could do was done and the brave woman had manfully helped. She had. She had fought the good fight and now she was very very happy. Look at her as she reclines there in the first bloom of her new motherhood, breathing a quiet prayer of thanksgiving to the One above, the Universal Husband. And, as her loving eyes behold her babe, she wishes only one blessing more, that her to have her Fonsy there with her to share her joy, to lay in his arms the fruit of their lawful embraces. He is elderly now |1and something stooped in the shoulders1| and graver yet with the progress of years a grave dignity has come to him. No, Fonsy, loved one, it may never be again that far off
{ms, 7}
timeº of the roses. She With the old shake of her pretty head she remembers those days. God, how beautiful now across the mist of years! But their children are there |1in imagination about her bedside1|, hers and his, Charley, Mary Alice, Frederick Albert (if he had lived), Mamie, Budgey (Frances Mary), Tom, Violet Constance de Sales, darling little Bobsy (named after our famous hero of South Africa, |1lord1| Bobs of Waterford and Candahar) and now this last. He will be christened Mortimer Edward after the Mortimer family, the influential cousins of Mr Purefoy. No, let no sigh break from that breast, dear |1dear1| Mina. And Fonsy, knock the ashes from your pipe, when the curfew rings for you (may it be the distant day) and dout the light and so with a tranquil heart to bed. You too have fought the good fight. Sir, to you my hand. Well done thou good and faithful servant.

Thereº are sin memories sins or let us call them bitter memories which are hidden away |1by man1| in the darkest places of the heart but they abide there & wait. |1He may suffer their memory to grow dim, let them be as though they had not been, all but persuade himself that they were not or were other wise1| A chance word will call them forth and they will rise up to confront
{ms, 8}
himº in the most various scenes, |1a vision1| in some dream or when the timbrel and the harp soothe his cares, or amid the cool silver tranquility of evening or at the feast at midnight when he is now filled with wine. Not for vengeance with the vision come |1to cut him off from the living1|, not to insult over him as over one that lies under her wrath but shrouded in the |1pitiful piteous1| vesture of the |1irretrievable1| past, silent, serene, reproachful.

The stranger |1still1| regarded |1on1| the face before him |1from which a slow receding of1| the false serenity |1there1|, if imposed |1as it seemed1| by habit or some studied trick upon words and acts so im embittered as to imply in the speaker an unhealthy sensitiveness, a flair, for the |1grosser cruder1| things of life. |1Two scenes stood forth A scene disengaged itself1| in the |1watcher's observor's1| memory. A lilac garden. A bowling green in Roundtown on a soft |1July June1| evening, |1quiet save for the slow roll and brief shocks of the pellets,1| the scent of lilac from the sisterhood of trees mingling fitly with that other sisterhood of girls, Floey, Tiny, Atty and yet another |1in whose eyes and hair seem the product of a different, more southern clime1|. A lad of four or five in linseywoolsey of ripe damson is the |1petted1| centre of that wellremembered ring, a prattler even then, while by the grey urn beside the — a mother looks on.
{ms, 9}
º
{ms, 10}

Markº this farther. It comes suddenly. E Enter that antechamber of birth where the |1missing1| students are assembled and |1mark note1| their faces. Nothing, as it seems, there of rash or violent. Quietude |1of custody1| rather, befitting their stations in that |1house home1| of rest, the vigilant watch of shepherds |1and of angels1| on that holiest night about in Bethlehem's house of blank, long ago. But |1in the slumberous as before the lightning1| serried |1clouds stormclouds1|, heavy with ponderous excess of moisture, in swollen masses, turgidly distended, compass all the sky in one vast slumber, impending above |1drowsy parched1| field and drowsy cattle and blighted growth of shrub and verdure, till |1at the in an instant a1| flash the cloudburst rives their centres |1and1| with the reverberation of all heaven the |1rainfall cloudburst1| pours its torrent so |1in that room of quiet1| was the transformation |1|ain that room of quieta|1|, violent and instantaneous, upon the utterance of that word.

Burke's!

Out flings my lord Stephen, giving the cry, and a tag and bobtail of all there |1after1|, |1cockerels cockerel1|, jackanapes, welcher, pilldoctor, punctual Bloom at heels, with a universal grabbing at headgear, ashplants, |1Zermatt1| alpenstocks, Panama hats and what not. Nurse Callan, scandalised in the hallway,
{ms, 11}
cannotº stay them nor smiling |1Dixon surgeon1| coming down from with news of placentation ended |1one pound weight if a miligramme1|. They hark him on. The door. It is open? Ha. They are forth tumultuous, off for a minute's race, |1all lustily legging it,1| Burke's of Denzille street their ulterior goal. Dixon follows, giving them sharp language, but |1raps out an oath1| on with him. Bloom stays an instant with the nurse |1to press her hand and send a good word to happy mother unread up there convalescent. Doctor Diet and Doctor Quiet1|. |1Ha! Ha!1| Looks she not other now? And all being gone out he presses a willing hand and |1in a glance of1| motherwit whispers helping, whispers he … By The air without is impregnated with raindew moisture, |1celestial1| life essence |1celestial1|, glistening on Dublin stone there |1under rutilant starshiny coelum1|. By heaven, Alphonsus Purefoy, thou hast done a |1high doughty1| deed |1and no botch1|! Thou art |1I swear,1| the notablest remarkablest generator in this chaffering all including most farraginous chronicle! Art weighed down with thy toil, with butcher's bills at home and ingots (not thine!) at the countinghouse? Pshaw, man! A truce to threnes |1and . Displode thy1| jeremies! What says Zarathustra? Deine Kuh Trübsal melkest Du nun trinkst Du die süsse Milch des Euters. The udder of abundance displodes for thee. Drink, man!, a
{ms, 12}
bellyful.º Mother's milk, Purefoy, the milk of human kindness kin, milk too of those stars overhead, rutilant in thin rainvapour, punch milk such as those riotous fellows in the guzzling den are quaffing

{Section (X) epilogue: NLI.11B: U84 14.1440-end}
{ms, 12}

Allº off for a |1beano buster |aarmstrong, halloring down the streeta|1|. Where's the harm? All bonyfides here. Down to Timothy of the battered naggin. |1|aLike old Billio.a| Any brollies in the family?1| Where the Henry Neville's Nevil's sawbones and the old clo? |1Sorra one o me knows.1| |1Hurrah there, D—.1| Dix? |1Where's Punch?1| He's all right. Coming, so's Christmas. Come along. |1Jesus, see the1| Guttersnipes |1round Dedalus1| yelling. O, the drunken minister coming out of the maternity hospital. Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus, Pater et Filius. A copper a A make apiece, mister. The Denzille lane boys. Right, old Isaac, shove em out of the |1way light then1|. |1Hell, blast you. |aA make, mister mister, A makea|1| You join us, sir. No |1intrusion hentrusion, dear sir1|. |1Allee samee Lou heap good man allee samee this bunch1| En avant, mes enfants! Fire away there, number one on the gun. |1Thence they advanced five parasangs.1| Burke's! Burke's! |1Give Tip1| us a psalm, Steve! |1|xSlattery's Mounted footx|1| |1No,1| No, Mulligan. |1Get on. Shove ahead.1| Keep a watch on the clock. Mulligan Near chucking out time. Mulleygann! Hah? The British beatitudes. Ay. Ay. Tention. Proceed to nearest canteen (beatitudes!) and annex enemy's stores of
{ms, 13}
liquor.º March! Tramp, tramp (beatitudes!), amp, tramp. Beer, beef, business, bibles, battleships, bulldogs, buggery and bishops. Amp tramp. Beer, beef, trample the trample the bibles, battleships trample the trampeller. Keep |1time the millingtary step1|. Tramp for Slattery's m Boosebox. |1|xHere we are again.x|1| Halt!

|1|xQuery.x|1| Who's standing |1this here do1|? I'm the proud possessor of fourpence. |1Me nantee |achinky salteea|.1| Yours? |1The1| mead of our fathers |1for the Ubermensch1|. Five number ones, 2 Ardilauns, same here. You, sir? Ginger cordial. |1Chase me, the cabby's caudle. |aBuckled, he is.a| Know his |acow and kisses donaa|? |aLives Digsa| near the Mater. Full of a door. See her in her dishybilly. |aPull down the blind, love.a| Two Ardilauns, same here. Got a fine pair of mutton pies, no kid|a, and a |bHer lay me to restsb| And hera| anker of rum. |aWhat ho, she bumps!a| Must be seen to be believed. |aYour Hera| starving eyes & allbeplastered neck, |ayou shea| stole my heart, O gluepot.1| Absinthe for me, |1savee |asavy saveya|1|? Look slippery. If you fall don't wait to get up. Time, sir? |1my avuncular's got mine.1| Ten to. Winding his ticker. Stopped short never to go again. |1Well Say1|, Dix, |1did your bit?1| |1How's how's1| all in Lapland? — delivery. |1Ha!1| |1Divide the spoils. Shove |aaround rounda| the |abung nappya|.1| Here, Jock's your barley bree. My tipple, thank you. Here's to us. Don't splash my new sit-in-ems. |1|xA caraway seed to carry awayx|1| Every cove for his gentry mort. Venus Pandemos. Les petites des boulevards. A bold bad girl from the town of Mullingar. |1Tell her I was axing at her.1| |1Hauding Sara by the wame.1| |1The |aMe?a| On the1| road to Malahide. |1Her If she1| who seduced me had left but the name. Machree, Macruskeen. |1What do you want for ninepence |xHealth! Hauding Sara by the wame.x|1| Smutty Moll for a mattress jig.
{ms, 14}

Waiting?º Bet your boots on. Stunned like seeing |1as how1| no shiners is |1coming acoming1|. |1He've got chink, I seed three pound on him he said was hisn.1| |1We Us1| come right in on your invite, see? Out with the oof. Two bar and a wing. You learn that of the |1Frenchies Frenchy bamboozlers1|. |1Won't wash for nuts.1| Lil child velly solly. I'se the most cutest coon down |1this our1| side. God's truth|1!, Charley.1| We are nae fou.We're nae the fou. Voilà!

'Tis, sure |1tight1|. What say? Lyon Bantam |1the teetee1| in the speakeasy. Go to God. Have a |1peep glint1|, do. Well, I'm damned. |1Too full for words1| With a railway porter. Look at his flowers. O Gemini, he's going to sing. |1The My1| colleen bawn. |1Open his boots. O, cheese it. Shut his Dutch oven with a firm hand.1| He had the winner, tip from the stable. The ruffin cly the nab of Stephen Hand as give me the |1blasted1| capa copaleen |1for a dead cert1|. He |1meet strike1| a |1telegraph telegram1| boy stable wire to Ba from Bass to the depot. Tip him a joey and grahamise see. Mare |1filly1| fit. |1Tell a cram, that.1| Criminal diversion land him in |1sorrowful tail. chokey |aif the peelers cotched him.a|1| |1if the harman beck copped the do. O, lust, our refuge and our strength.1| Off he pops |1to mammy1|. |1Come a home, our Bantam. |aMind his cowslips. Dinna forget ye the cowslips for hersel.a|1| Hide my blushes, someone. If he spots |1me1| I'm do he'll do me in. I'm all in. Confide. Who |1gave tipped1| you the winner? |1Me? Garn.1| No kid, young un. Honest injun.
{ms, 15}
Shiverº my timbers if I had. Vel, |1I reckon1| if that beent a sheeny |1bilker1| nachez, vel, I vil |1be shot get brigmeela1|. And us pals, me and him. |1Though yerd, our lord. Amen.1|

You move a motion? Steve boy, you're going it some. |1Dinna fret, a drappie man. Hoots, mon, a |aweea| drap to prie1| All serene. Absinthe for the lot. No squeaking. Right. Rome boose for the gent. |1Landlord, landlord, have you good wine, Staboo?1| Hi! Where's the Buck and |1Tivy1| Bannon? |1Skunked off.1| Crikey, I'm about sprung. Tarnally dog gone my shins if this ain't the |1bestest1| puttiest chance yet. |1Thrust syphilis down to hell & with those other wicked spirits who wander through the world.1| A la votre!

Golly. Who in tunket's that in the mackintosh? What's he got? Jubilee mutton. Bovril, by James. Wants it |1real1| bad. Bare socks. D'ye ken bare socks? |1Seedy cuss in the1| The Richmond, rather. Thought he has a deposit of lead in his penis. |1Trumpery insanity.1| Bartle the bread we calls him. |1Off with his tuck. Tuck & turn in.1| Schedule time, gents. Nix for the polis. Pardon? Seen him at a runefal? Chum of o yourn passed in his checks! |1Thou'llt not tell me so, Bloom Pold veg? Ludamassy!1| |1Was Did1| ums |1weeps weep big1| splash |1tears crytears1| cos frien |1Pat Padney1| was took off in black bag? Of all de |1niggers darkies1| massa |1Pat1| was |1verra1| best |1bar none1|. Never see de like since I was born. Time, all. |1Get ye gone.1| Night. Night

Hark! Pflaap! Pflaap! |1Fire |aBlazes Blazea|1| somewhere. Cut |1down Denzille lane up Mount street1|. Plaaaap! You not come? Percutiam pastorem. Pflaap! Run and run.
{ms, 16}
Lynchº with me. Down Denzille lane. We two, she said, will seek the kips, where the lady Mary is. |1Laetabuntur in cubilibus suis.1| You coming with, sir? Whipser, |1who's who the sooty hell1| this Johnny |1hanging on to us1| in the black duds? f For, he hath sinned against the light and, lo, that day is |1come now1| wherein he shall come to judge the world with fire. See ut implerentur scripturae. Christ, what's this yellow excrementitious |1gospeller1| on the Metropolitan Hall? Elijah is coming. All are washed in the blood of the lamb. Alexander J Dowie, that's my name |1that's yanked to glory most half the States1|. Shout salvation in King Jesus! The deity aint no bumshow. |1He's I put him to you as1| a business proposition. Come on, you winefizzling, ginsizzling, booseguzzling existences! Come on, you bullnecked beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanut brained weaseleyed fourflushers, false alarms & excess baggage. |1and a corking fine business proposition.1|