ULYSSES

Protodrafts

Third draft §1A, Summer-Autumn 1920, draft level 2

MS NLI.12 1-21 Draft details


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(Nighttown. Rows of grimy houses with gaping doors. Rare smoky lamps. Little men and women squabble for ices round a halted gondola. They receive wafers between which are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow. The little men and women scatter slowly, sucking up the melting coloured snow. They are children. The highreared comb of the gondola pushes on through the dark, passing under the lamplight white and blue. Whistles are heard from afar, calling, then answering.)

The Whistles

Wait my love and I'll be with you.

The Answers

Down behind the stable.

On a step a ragpicker crouches to shoulder a sack. A crone standing by with a guttering oillamp rams her last bottle in the |2neck maw2| of the sack. He shoulders it and lurches off mutely tugging his peaked cap askew on his eyes. The crone makes back for her lair, swaying her lamp. A |2bandy2| child asquat on the doorstep with a paper shuttlecock crawls sidling after her in jerks and, clutching her skirt, scrambles up. A drunken navvy grips with both hands the railings ofº an area swaying heavily to and fro. At a corner two night patrols in shoulder capes, their hands upon their staffholsters, stand tall and silent. A plate is heard to crash: a woman scream follows. A child is heard crying. |2Heads are thrust out of windows |alisteninga|.2| Oaths of a man are roared out indistinctly. They cease. Figures, male and female pass through the murk, round corners, into doorways. In an openwindowed room, lit by a candle stuck in a bottleneck, a slut combs out the tatts of another slut's hair. A girl's voice, high, still young, sings out from a lane)

The Girl

I gave it to Molly
Because she was jolly
The leg of the duck,
The leg of the duck.
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(Two redcoats, swaggersticks tight in their oxters, face about towards the voice and, without halting, emit in chorus a loud fart from their mouths Laughter of men from the lane. A hoarse hag retorts.)

The Hag

Signs on yous, dirty arse. More power the |2Kildare Cavan2| girl.

|2The Girl

Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet2|

(The redcoats turn as before and answer. They march on. Near the lamp their tunics are bloodbright, their blond heads closecropped, their biscuitcaps set on the side lobes are round ballsockets. The girl's voice rises higher)

The Girl

I gave it to Nelly
To stick in her belly
The leg of the duck
The leg of the duck.

(The redcoats halt with the patrol in talk. A girl with hair on the wind rushes across the street, her |2shawl batshawl2| wingflapping from her arms. She shrieks, laughing, rushing, and is engulphed in a doorway. A burly navvy pursues with long strides. He stumbles on the steps but recovers and plunges into the doorway after her. Weaker shrieks of laughter are heard. They stop. A young man in black with a wide hat pointing ahead with a flourish of his stick passes through the figures, talking. Aº broader young man wearing a jockey cap walks beside him, a sneer of discontent on his beaked face. An elderly procuress lolled against a doorframe looks out as they pass and calls in a husky whisper)

The Procuress

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

(They pass on unseeing. She calls after them scornfully)

The Procuress

Trinity medicals. Fallopian tube.

(Still unheeded she spits her venom. A redhaired girl seated with a friend on a step draws her shawl quickly across her nostrils as she narrates relates)

The Redhaired Girl

And says the one: I seen you in Faithful
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Place with your squarepusher in the come-to-bed hat. Did you? says I. That's not for you to say, says I. You never seen me in the mantrap with a highlander, says I.

|2The Redhaired Girl

Stag, that one she is! Stubborn as a mule,2| And her walking with two fellows the one time. |2H.J. O'Neill's driver |aand the lance corporala|2|

Lynch

So that?

Stephen

So that the art of gesture renders visible not the lay sense but the first formal rhythm. Who wants a gesture to illustrate a loaf, a jug? This movement illustrates |2thou2| the loaf and jug of bread, or wine, I mean, in Omar. Hold myº stick.

Lynchº

Damn your yellow stick.

(Stephen gives the stick quickly and slowly holds out his hands, his head going back till both hands are a span or so from his breast, down—turned, in planes at an angle, their fingers about to part, the left hand being higher)

Lynch

Which is the jug of bread? |2It skills not.2| Illustrate Thou. Here take your crutch.

(They pass out of sight. A barefoot urchin scrambles to a street lamp and, clasping, climbs it in spasms. From the top he slides down to his ring of urchin friends. Another starts to climb. The navvy, leaving hold of the railings, lurches against the lamp. The urchin slides down. All scuttle off in the darkness. The navvy, swaying, presses a forefinger against a wing of his nose. Swaying he ejects from the farther nostril a long dribbling jet of snot. |2Then, shouldering the lamp, he staggers away through the crowd |awith his flaring cresseta|.)2| Bloom comes round a corner hastily and stops. In each hand he holds a lukewarm paper parcel, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen|2, the other and2| a cold sheep's trotter sprinkled with wholepepper, the other two slices of quartern loaf and a tablet of Fry's chocolate. Heº frowns slightly and hesitates. A stooped bearded figure appears beside him, garbed in a long caftan embroidered with dogs' heads and wearing a smokingcap with crimson tassel.

Rudolph

|2Second2| Half crown wasted. I told you not go with drunken goys ever.
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Bloomº

I know

(He looks down, conscious of error feeling through the paper a warm crubeen and a cold trotter.

Rudolph

What are you doing? Are you not my son Leopold?

Bloom

Yes, father.

Rudolph

(severely) One night they bring you home drunk as a dog after spend your good money. What you call those running chaps?

Bloom

Harriers. Only that once.

Rudolph

Once! All mud head |2to and2| foot. Cut your hand open. |2Lockjaw.2|

Bloom

(weakly) They asked me to race them. It was muddy. I slipped.

Rudolph

(with contempt) Goim nachez. Nice spectacles for your mother.

|2The Mother's Voice2|

|2(Ellen Bloom, an elderly dame in stringed bonnet with a wide skirt and bustle)2| (in shrill alarm) O, blessed Redeemer! Whereº were you at all?

(Bloom looks down at his clothes |2and bestows chocolate and bread in a sidepocket2|. A handsome woman in Turkish costume stands before him. Opulent curves fill her scarlet trousers and jacket. A white yashmak, violet in the night, covers her face and hair, leaving free only her large dark eyes)

Marion

Poldy!

Bloom

Who?

(He breathes in deep agitation wavering Questions throng to his lips. He swallows them down. He wishes to sink to the ground near her slippers to tell her that he bought the crubeen and trotter, the bread and chocolate for her supper. He wishes, unwishes, is cold, warm, knows, knows not, stands helpless, spellbound by her eyes and dress. Beneath her turreted turban a coin gleams on her brow. Her anklets are linked together by a fetterchain. Beside her a camel waits with hood and palanquin,
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a ladder of innumerable steps leading to his hump. A slow friendly mockery steals into her eyes)

|2Bloomº

(breathlessly) I was just going back for that lotion, the whitewax, orangeflower water. The shop closes early on Thursdays. But the first thing in the morning I …2|

Marion

Poldy!

Bloom

Yes

Marion

Ti trema un poco il cuore?

(She saunters away in disdain |2missing2|. He follows, followed by a sniffing terrier. She is gone. The elderly procuress seizes his sleeve. Instinctively he tightens his grip on the crubeen and trotter. The procuress pours into his ear a fetid husky message.

The Procuress

Ten shillings a maidenhead. Fresh thing that was never touched. Fifteen.

(Her mouldy sweat promises secret obscenities. She indicates theº doorway. He looks. In the dark hall furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands. She calls to him)

Bridie

Any good in your mind? |2Hatch street.2|

(He thinks of giving the crubeen and trotter to the procuress. Gertyº MacDowell limps to his side. Leering she draws from behind her something and shows it to him coyly. It is her bloodied clout. |2She whispers2|)

Gerty MacDowell

|2With all my worldly goods I thee and thou (in a long lingering whisper)2| You did that.

Bloom

I? It is mistaken identity. |2Never saw you2| When?

Gerty

(|2fawning,2| pawing his coat |2& slobbering2|) Dirty married man! I love you doing that.

The Procuress

(hurriedly) Come. Don't be all night. You won't get a virgin in the flash houses. Come before the polis sees us. 67 is a bitch.

(Mrs Breen stands in the middle of the street. She throws open her mouth, eyes and arms, astonished)

Mrs Breen

You down here! O, wait till I see Molly.

Bloom

(confused) |2O,2| How do you do? |2Close kind of weather it has been.2| It's a short cut home.

|2Bloom

Most interesting quarter to see. Molly more than once expressed a desire to visit it. She is susceptible to, you understand. Bohee Brothers, the Livermore minstrels, negro porters, even sweeps.

|aBloom

|bI have heard her unblushingly assert She said once unblushinglyb| in mixed company that if her means allowed |ba manservantb| she would |bengage takeb| a negro |bin preference to rather thanb| a native |bmanservantb|.

(Tom Bohee and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white duck suits, standº forth. Each has his banjo slung to play. They rattle through a breakdown in their loud clogs, twanging noisily |bflashing the whites of their eyes and teethb| and singing with |bfat smacking clacking smackfatclackingb| |b|cnegro niggerc|b| lips)

Tom and Sam

There's someone in the house with Dina
There's someone in the house I know
There's someone in the house with Dina
Playing on the old banjo.

(Chuckling, chortling, |bstrummingb| twanging, |brattlingb| they |bdiddlediddleb| dance away.a|2|

I was just buying something for
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supper after the theatre. Leah: Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Rattling good place round there for pig's feet. Feel how hot.

(Richie Goulding appears weighted to one side by the black legal bag of Colles and Ward on which a skull and crossbones are painted in white limewash. He opens it and shows it full of white puddings, kippered herring and tightpacked pills)

Richie

(stolidly) Best value in Dublin

Bloom

Feel.

Mrs Breen

(Shouts with laughter) Glory Alice! You do look a holy show. You should just see yourself.

|2Mrs Breen

You're killing!2| O, you ruck!

Bloomº

(cautiously) Don't attract the attention of the public. I want to tell you a little secret about how I came to be here. You must never tell. Not even Molly. I have a particular reason.

Mrs Breen

|2(all agog)2| O, not for worlds.

|2Bloom2|

(Bloom shakes himself free of the procuress and walks on with Mrs Breen. The dog slinks at their heels sniffing)

Bloom

(mysteriously |2low, with increasing rapidity2|) Do you remember a long long time ago just after Milly was weaned when we all went together to Fairyhouse races and Molly won seven shillings on a horse named Nevertell and coming home in theº |2break wagonette2| you were sitting beside me and you wore that new hat Denis bought for you that didn't become you half as well as the toque with the bird on it and Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of Mrs Joe Gallaher's lunch basket and laughing because Rogers and Maggot O'Reilly were mimicking the cock as we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses, the tea merchant, drove past us with his daughter (Dancer Moses was her name) and the poodle in her lap bridled up and you asked me if
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I ever heard or read or knew or came across …..

Mrs Breen

(eagerly) Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

(She fades from his side. He walks on alone, displeased, uncertain, mistrustful, excited towards hell's gates. In an archway a woman pisses standing her feet planted apart pisses noisily. Outside a shuttered pub a group of loiterers listen to the end of a story which a brokensnouted man relates with rasping humour. He crouches to show them and laughs rancorously)

The Man

Andº what was heº after doing it into only into the bucket of porter that was there for Derwan's plasterers.

The Loiterers

(guffawing) O, jays! Jays, that's a good one! Glauber salts. O, jays, into the |2men's2| porter!

(They laugh in all voices, indifferent to the scene about them. Cheap whores bold, dishevelled, singly and in groups couples call from hallways, laneways, doorsteps

The Whores

— Come here, queer fellow!

— How's your middle leg?

— That you, love?

|2Have you Got2| a match on you?

Sh? Sh! Come here till I feel it for you.

(Bloom passes through the swamp into the lower street. The housedoors are open. Gaudyº dollwomen loll in the lighted halls or about the doors smoking birdseye cigarettes. The odour of the sicksweet weed floats |2towards and2| round Bloom in pearly wreaths)

The Wreaths

Sweet sweets. |2Embrace!2| Sweet sin.

(Ashamed, fluttered he tries to hide his parcel)

Bloom

I can't go back. In which house have they gone. I could ask. |2Or let it slide.2| But this parcel. Shall I eat it? Where? Get myself all stickypig. Useless waste.

(He perceives the dog and retreats a few yards to a dark corner, followed by the tracking terrier. He opens the parcel and dumps the crubeen softly in the corner. He would like to eat the trotter but after a moment lets it fall regretfully. The terrier gluts himself greedily,
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crunching the bones.º Twoº raincaped watch approach. Theyº lay each a hand on Bloom's shoulder)º

First Watch

Commit no nuisance.

Bloom

(stammers) I am doing good to others. |2Training by kindness2|

|2(He points. Bob Doran|a, toppling from a high stool,a| sways over the famished dog.)

Bob Doran

|aHere, Towser,a| Give us the paw. Give the paw, doggy.

(The dog growls ominously. Bob Doran falls slowly sideways into an area)2|

Firstº Watch

Name and address.

Bloom

(takes off his hat and salutes |2(A card falls from inside the leather headband of his hat)2|) Bloom, Leopold.

First Watch

Proof.

(Bloom hastily |2takes a picks up the2| card |2from inside the leather headband of his hat2| and offers it)

Second Watch

(reading) Henry Flower.

First Watch

An alibi!

Bloom

(produces from his heartpocket a crumpled yellow flower. He murmurs privately and confidentially) This is the flower. We are engaged you see. Bloom the flower. The change of name. Virag.

Martha

(thickveiled, in tone of reproach, pointing) Henry! Leopold! Lionel, thou lost one!

First Watch

(sternly) |2You ought to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself.2| Come to the station.

Bloom

(in alarm) No, no. |2Appearances are against me. Wrongfully accused. |aYou remember Childs, the fratricider, by striking his head with a hatchet. Better 99 wrongfully condemned than for one to escapea|2| Let me explain |2sergeant2|. My wife! I live in Eccles street. |2Gentlemenº of the T jury2| I am a respectable married man |2without a stain on my character2|. A journalist. I write for the |2Freeman the British and Irish press2|.

|2(Myles Crawford strides |aforward outa| jerkily. His scarlet face, a blazing homerule sun blazes within the aureole of his strawhat. He holds a telephone receiver to his ear.)

Myles Crawford

Hello! Seventyseveneightyfour. Hello! Freeman's Urinal and |aEvening Weeklya| Arsewiper here. What? Who |awritesa|? |xYou which?x| Bluebags? |aIs it Bloom?a|

(Mrº Philip Beaufoy stands forward, in accurate morning dress, silk hat, lavender trousers. He carries a portfolio labelled |aMasterpieces Matcham's Masterworksa|)

Beaufoy

(curtly) A delinquent, my lord. He cribbed some of my bestselling stuff, my lord. Ask my agent, Mr J B Pinker. |aa household word in the United Kingdoma| |aMy work is well known The Beaufoy works are |bprobably doubtless familiarb| known |bto your lordshipb|a|. I presume |aI am we'rea| entitled to witnesses' fees. My |aliterarya| agent Mr J B Pinker is in attendance. |aWe come here at considerable personal inconvenience.a| |xMy time is money subpoenasx|

J.J. O'Molloy

(in barrister's grey wig and stiff gown |ahandkerchief in handa| in a weak voice) My client wishes to make a statement (he coughs into his handkerchief and examines the phlegm) Excuse me. I am suffering from a severe chill2|

|2|aFirst Watchº

Call the woman MacArdlea|

(Mary MacArdle, a slipshod servantgirl, approaches with scouring brush & pail)

Secondº Watch

Another! What do you tax him with? What is the offence complained of?

Mary

He surprised me |afrom behinda| in the scullery, your worship, when the missus was out with a request for |athe use ofa| a safety pin. He interfered with my clothing, your worship, |aso he did,a| and pinched me till I tookº the scouring brush to him.

Second Watch

(to Bloom) Have you anything why sentence should not be passed upon you?

Bloom

(begins a long unintelligible speech, pleading that he had had some beer, |aa momentary aberration, heredity, the influence of sunspotsa| regretting that the girl is in trouble and expressing his readiness to do the right thing. He |aoffers tendersa| five shillings |aand,a| stating that he is |aa poor foreigner.a| down on his luck |a& trying to turn an honest pennya| for the moment. Suchº familiarities are, he says, are quite permitted in his native place, Agendath Netaim |xwhere he has large landed propertyx|. Heº offers to produce statistics from the astronomer royal |aand photographic viewsa|)º2| Can give |2best2| references. |2Messrs Callan Coleman, Mr Wisdom Hely,2| Mr Valentine Dillon, ex lord mayor. |2The best circles.2|

Mrs Brereton Barry

(in a lowcut opal dress) Arrest him, constable. He wrote me an anonymous letter when my husband was on circuit, signed James Lovebirch. He said he saw me |2at La Cigale2| inº a box at the Theatre Royal, that I inflamed him. He made improper overtures to me. He offered to send me a work
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of fiction by Paul de Kock entitled The Girl with the Three Pairs of Stays.

Mrs Bellingham

(in a |2fur sable2| mantle steps out of her carriage) Also to me because he closed my carriage door one rainy day outside sir Thornley Stoker's. |2He enclosed a sprig of edelweiss, he said, gathered unreadº my honour. It turned out to be a blossom of the potato plant purloined from the model farm.2| He addressed |2with fulsome compliments2| as a Venus in furs. |2The allusion to my coachman in sheepskins seemed to me beside the point.2| He praised |2almost2| extravagantly |2my nether extremities2| my |2swelling2| shapely calves. He urged me to commit adultery at the earliest possible opportunity.

Second Watch

(produces handcuffs) Here are the darbies.

Theº Honourable Mrs Paget Butler

(in riding costume, topboots, hard hat, long train and |2ridingcrop huntingcrop2| with which she strikes her welt constantly) Also me. He saw me on the Polo ground in the Phoenix park. He sent me in an envelope an obscene photograph insulting to any lady. I have it still. He urged me to sin with officers of the garrison. He implored me to chastise him as he deserves.

Mrs Bellingham

Me too.

Mrs Brereton Barry

Me too.

The Honourable Mrs Paget Butler

(suddenly, furiously) I will. |2by God.2| I will thrash him black and blue in the public streets. |2I will flay him alive, by |aJesus the god above mea|!2| Heº is a wellknown cuckold. Take down his trousers.

|2Mrs Brereton Barry

without loss of time.2| Quick!

(The |2brass2| quoits of a bed are heard to jingle clearly)

The Quoits

Jigjag jigajiga jigjag.

|2(|aA panel of mist rolls rapidly backa| The faces of Martin Cunningham, Jack Power, Simon Dedalus, Ned Lambert, Tom Kernan, John Henry Menton, Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and a Nameless One appears simultaneously in the jurybox)

The Nameless One

(snarls) He organised her. |aBareback riding.a| Arse over tip. Hundred shillings to five.

The Others

(|aall |bnodding bowingb|a| in grave assent) |aWe all Most of usa| thought |aso as mucha|.2|

Secondº Watch

(awed, whispers) He is in black. An anarchist |2incog2|. |2That is That's2| |2an infernal machine,2| a bomb.

Bloom

(desperately) No!, no. Pig's feet. I was at a funeral.

First Watch

(draws his truncheon) Liar!
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(The dog lifts his face. He has devoured all. He grows to human size |2and shape2|. His terrier coat becomes a brown mortuary habit. He has the face of Paddy Dignam. He speaks in a loud hollow voice)

Dignam

It is true. It was my funeral.

|2Dignam

(his |areda| eyes flash angrily. He growls) Doctor Farrelly pronounced life extinct.2|

(Heº lifts an ashen face and bays lugubriously)

Bloom

(triumphantly) You see?

First Watch

How is that possible?

Second Watch

It is not in the catechism

Dignamº

By metempsychosis.

|2Dignam

Once I was in |aMenton's. |bthe employ ofb| that solicitor's, commissioner for oaths and affidavits.a| John Henry Menton. Bachelor's Walk. Two £s 15 a week. |a(looks round him) I should like to micturate. That buttermilk.a|2| I could a tale unfold.

|2(The portly figure of the caretaker, John O'Connell, stands forth with a bunch of keys and a gramophone trumpet. Beside him stands Father Coffey |a(toadbellied, wrynecked)a| in a surplice and bandanna nightcap holding |alimplya| a |along lasso butterfly neta|)

Father Coffey

|a(yawning)a| Naminedamine. Vobiscum. Amen.

John O'Connell

(calls |astormilya| through his megaphone)º Dignam, Patrick. |aBurial Docket number, unreadº U.P. U.P. eight thousand and four.a| Field Seventeen. Plot One Hundred and Nine. Left.

(Paddy Dignam listens intently, with visible effort, thinking, his head cocked)

Dignam

My master's voice.2|

(He worms down through a coalhole, his brown habit trailing after him. |2His voice is heard baying dull in the hole: Dignam's dead and gone below.2| The women grow dark. The watch recede. Bloom goes forward again. Kisses are chirped to him. A piano sounds. He stands before the house listening. The kisses fly about him, twittering.) |2warbling, cooing)2|

The Kisses

|2(warbling)2| Leo! |2(twittering)2| Icky licky micky sticky for Leo! (they coo) Coo coocoo! Yummyyum womwom! |2(they warble)2| Big, come big! |2twittering)2| Pirouette! Leeolee! |2(again warbling)2| O Leo!º

Bloom

A man's touch that is. Perhaps they are here. Sad music. Church music.º Yes, it is here.

(Zoe Higgins, a young whore in a sapphire slip closed with two bronze buckles. She nods, trips down the steps, accosts him)

Zoe

Are you looking for someone? He's inside with his friend.

Bloom

Is this Mrs Mack's?

Zoe

No, Mrs Cohen's.

|2Zoe

You might go farther and fare worse. |a(familiarly) Mother Slipperslapper.a| She's inunread on the job |atonighta| with |aan hera| auctioneer, working over time.2| |2(suspiciously)2| You're not his father, are you?
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Bloom

O no.

Zoe

I thought you were from your both being in black.

(She takesº his arm cuddling him. Strange oriental music is played note by note, slowly. He looks into her brown eyes |2ringed with kohol2|. Gazelles are leaping feeding on the mountains. Near are lakes. Black shadows of cedar forests file around them. Aroma rises from them, the strong hairgrowth of resin. It burns, the orient, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the bronze flight of eagles. Under it the womancity lies, nude, white, cool in luxury. A fountain murmurs among purple roses. Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes. A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring)

Zoe

(murmuring, her lips lusciously smeared with pomade of swinefat and rosewater, in singsong with the music) Schorach ani wenovach benoith Hierushaloim.

Bloom

I knew.

(She smiles showing her goldstopped teeth, sending out a cloying breath. The roses draw aside, disclose a sepulchre where lie the gold of kings and mouldering bones)

Bloom

|2(mechanically caressing her left bub)2| Are you a Dublin girl?

Zoeº

(catches a stray hair deftly and twists it to her coil) Not bloody much. I'm English. |2Have you a swaggerroot for me?

Bloomº

(as before) |aDon't I rarelya| smoke, dear. I am sorry. |aCigar now and then.a| |aIt's a childish device. (lewdly) The mouth can be better occupied|x, dear,x| than with a cylinder of |bblank rank grass.b|a| Whereº are you from? London?

Zoe

Hog's Norton. Where the pigs plays the organs.2| (she holds his hand which is feeling for her nipple) I say!

|2Zoe

Tommy Tittlemouse2| Stop that and begin worse. Have you cash for a short time? Ten shillings.

Bloom

(smiles, nods slowly) More, more.

Zoe

And more's mother? Coming in?

(She leads him to the steps.) (He stands awhile listening to the music, inhaling scents, seeing colours, feeling temptation)

Zoe

Silent means consent.
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(She leads him to the steps, drawing him by the odour of her armpits, the vice of her painted eyes, the rustle of her slip in which lurks the leonine reek of all male brutes that have possessed her)

Theº Male Brutes

(roaring faintly) Good!

(Zoe and Bloom reach the doorway where two sister whores are seated. They examine him curiously, lazily from under their pencilled brows and at last bo smile to his hasty bow.)

Bloom

(at the threshold stands aside) After you is good manners.

Zoe

Ladies first, gentlemen after.

(She goes into the house: |2He still hesitates. She turns and holding out her hands draws him over the threshold.2| he follows her. |2(On an antlered hatrack in the hall hangs a man's strawhat.2| On the return landing a door is thrown open. A man in shirt and trousers crosses the landing. His braces undone dangling behind give him the gait of a twotailed ape. Bloom, averting his face, follows Zoe into the parlour with a shade of mauve tissuepaper so that the light is dim. A moth flies round and round colliding against it. On the mantelshelf lie two large china dogs. On the flanks of each is painted a woodland glade. Between them is a vase with peacock feathers. In the grate is a japanese parasol firescreen. On a rug of matted sheepskin before the hearth Lynch sits crosslegged, his cap back to the front. He beats time slowly to the music with |2the brass poker a wand2| in his hand. Kitty |2Lawrence Ricketts2| a bony pallid whore in street costume, sits on the edge of a table swinging her leg. Lynch indicates derisively the couple at the piano.

Kittyº

(behind her hand) She's a little imbecillic

(Lynch tilts up her skirt and white petticoat with his wand)

Kittyº

(settling her skirt down quickly) Respect yourself. (She hiccups, bending quickly from under a sailor hat under which her hennared hair glows) O, excuse!

Zoe

|2Zoe

More limelight, Charley.2| (going to the chandelier, turns the gas
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full on) |2More limelight, Charley.2|

|2Zoe

Clap on the back for Mary.2|

(The wand in Lynch's hand flashes: it is a brass poker. Stephen stands by the piano on which lie his hat and stick. He repeats once more the series of empty fifths. |2Florrie Talbot2| A blond feeble goosefat whore in a |2mildewed tatterdemalion2| gown of |2mildewed2| strawberry lolls spreadeagle in a sofacorner listening a heavy stye drooping over her sleepyº eyelid)

Kitty

(hiccups again) O, excuse!

|2Zoe

(promptly) Tie a knot on your shift and stick it back2|

(|2She Kitty2| bends her brow again more quickly. A feather boa uncoils and slides, glides over her shoulder, back, arms, chair to the ground, an unheeded catterpillar. Stephen glances behind at the squatted figure with its cap back to the front)

Stephen

As a matter of fact it is of no importance whether Benedetto Marcello found it or made it. The rite is the poet's rest. It may be an ancient Greek song to Demeter or it may illustrate the eighteenth psalm Coeli enarrant gloriam Domini. It is susceptible of moods, I mean of modes so far apart as the hyperphrygian and the mixolydian and of texts so divergent as the haihooping of priests round David's altar, round Ceres' altar and David's tip from the stable to his chief bassoonist concerning God's glory, night to night showing knowledge.

|2Stephen

Mais, nom de nom, |aFaut que jeunesse se passe.a| |ait thata| is another pair of trousers as they say in France.2| (He stops, points at Lynch's cap, smiles, laughs) Which side is your knowledge |2bump2|?

The Cap

Bah! It is because it is. Jewgreek is Greekjew. Extremes meet. Death is the highest form of life. Absence is presence. Bah!

Stephen

You remember quite accurately all my little errors, boasts, mistakes, faults.

|2Stephen

How long more must I close my eyes to your disloyalty and to his.2| Whetstone!

The Cap

Bah!

Stephen

Here is another. The reason is because
{ms, 014}
the fundamental and the dominant areº separated by the greatest possible interval which ….

The Cap

Which? Finish it if you can.

Stephen

(with an effort) Interval which is. The greatest possible |2elipse2|. Consistent with.º The ultimate return. Octave. Which.

The Cap

(interested) Ha!

Stephen

(abruptly) What went forth to traverse not itself, God, the sun, a commercial traveller, having itself traversed in reality itself becomes that self. Wait a moment. Wait a second. That self which itself was ineluctably preconditioned to become. I mean …

(Lynch in a |2mockinnny mocking2| whinny of laughter grins at |2Florrie Talbot Zoe Higgins2|)

Lynch

What a learned speech, eh?

Zoe

(briskly)

|2Zoe

God help your head2| He knows more than you have forgotten.

(Florrieº Talbot with obese stupor regards Stephen)

Florrie

What does it all mean? everything. |2What is it?2|

|2Stephen

(to Florrie Talbot) It is the system |aof S. Thomas Porcupinea| of Antisthenes the embittered. (delighted with his own politeness) He asked himself that very question of yours.2|

|2Florrie

(to her sister whores) They say the end of the world is coming this summer.

Zoe

(explodes in laughter) Great unjust God.

Florrie

(slightly offended) |aWell,a| It was in the paper.º

(Aº hobgoblin in the form of Punch Costello, hipshot, |acrookbaced crookbackeda|, hydrocephalic |aprognatic,a| tumbles into the growing darkness with a hop, step and jump.

|aAll

Who is this? A kangaroo?a|

|aHis eyes are blindfolded. He runs to and fro, squeaking, hopping, with outstretched clutching arms.a| |aHe His lipless facea| grins and calls:)

Costello

|aC'est moi, l'homme qui rit. L'homme primigène!a| |a(whirling round with dervish howls)a| Messieurs et |adames. Faites dames, faitesa| vos jeux (Tiny whirling planets in the form of coloured roulette balls |awhizz round him fly whizzing from his handsa|) Le jeu est fait. (The roulette planets rush together with a series of cracks) Rien ne va plus.2|

(A female tepid |2steam effluvium2| leaks out from her, obfuscating the sight of all, redolent of oozing sex. |2The2| Obscurity |2of the last day2| occupies the room.

|2|a(A rocket rushes up the universe and bursts, proclaiming the last day.a| (Whirring creakily The End of the World|a, a twoheaded octopus in highland kilts, busby and ph filibegs,a| careers |awhirlinga| through the murk in the form of the Three Legs of the Isle of Man)

|aThe End of the World

(with a strong Scotch accent) Wha'll dance the keel row, the keel row, the keel row?a|2|

Then Elijah's voice is heard, |2shrill as a cock's. harsh as a corncrake's)2|

Elijah

Justº one word more. Are you a god or a clod? Florrie Christ, Stephen Christ, Zoe Christ, Bloom Christ, Kitty Christ, Lynch Christ, it's up to you to sense that cosmic force. Are you all in this vibration? Join on now. |2|aBe a prism.a| You once |aget it nobble thata|, congregation, and a joyride to heaven becomes a back number. Do it now.2| It is immense |2sumptuous2|. It restores. It vibrates. I know and I am some vibrator. |2Joking apart,2| Alexander |2A.J.2| Christ Dowie and
{ms, 015}
the harmonial philosophy. Have you got that? Right! You call me up by sunphone any old time.

|2Stephenº

In the beginning was the word. Our world is a novelette

Lyster

(appears in unreadº quaker grey with kneebreeches and broadbrimmed hat) He is our friend. |aI need not mention names.a| Seek the light.

(Best enters in barber's costume |ashinily laundered with curly locksa| leading John Eglinton who has a |aunread unread pinkstripeda| bib tucked round his chin, his face |abeing shampooda| profusely lathered)

Best

(smiling) Iº was just beautifying him, don't you know. A thing of beauty, don't you know, Yeats says, or I mean, Keats.º2|

|2John Eglinton

(produces a greencapped dark lantern from under his bib and flashes it) Esthetics and cosmetics |ayou may keep for your own use are for the boudoira|. I am out for plain truth. Plain truth for a plain man

(In the cone of the lanternlight the bearded figure of Mananaun MacLir arises |athe cold seawind blows from his mantlea|. In About his head eels writhe. He is covered with seaweed and, limpets, barnacles and shells. His right hand grasp a trident. In his left he holds a huge cooperative |acrayfisha| watch by its two talons.

Mananaun MacLir

|a(with a voice of waves)a| Aum! unread White yoghin of the gods. |aThe hermetic |bwisdom pimanderb| of Hermes Trismegistos.a| Punarjanam, Patsy Punjaub. Beware the left, the cult of Shakti, Shiva's spouse. Aum! (he strikes with his trident the crayfish watch in his left hand whereon the dialfigures glow as theº twelve signs of the zodiac.) |aMananaun Mac Lir with loud He wails in the wind witha| vehemence) Aum! Baum! Pyjaum! I am the light of the homestead! I am the creamery butter.2|º

Zoe

Who has a fag?

(Lynch offers her |2one a cigarette2|. Sheº stretches up to light it over the gasjet. With his poker he lifts up a side of her gown boldly. Bare from her garters up her flesh beneath the |2sapphire reddened reddened sapphire2| is lizard green)

Zoe

(puffs calmly) Can you see the beauty spot of my behind.

Lynch

I'm not looking.

Zoe

You wouldn't do a less thing.

|2Zoe

Would you suck a lemon?2|

(She glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom, then twists round towards him |2deftly2|, pulling her gown clear of the poker. |2(Kitty Ricketts, unseen, licks her middle fingers and smooths her eyebrows with her spittle)2| Litpold Virag, Bloom's double, wearing Stephen's hat, Buck Mulligan's primrose vest and a brown mackintosh under which he hugs two ancient volumes, stands somewhat to Bloom's left)

Virag

(coughs, points to Zoe Higgins and says drily) A lot of |2promiscuous2| nakedness about, what? You perceived by that revelation that she is not wearing what you like so much. Number two on the other hand is in walking costume and I always understood that the act so performed pleased you by reason of its exhibitionistic procedure. Especially, I believe, in the furs of beasts. Am I right?

Bloom

But she is lean

Virag

|2Virag

(not unpleasantly) True. Well observed. And those pannier pockets of the skirtº are intended to give the illusion of breadth of hip. All meretricious finery to deceive the eye. A hoax. Beware of the mournful languid type, lily of the alley.2| Well then, the third|2, although the ugly duckling of the family2|. Her beam is broad. She is coated with quite a considerable layer of fat. You perceive that she has in front two protuberances of respectables dimensions, and on the other side, lower down two protuberances which are distinctly large. When they are coopfattened their livers
{ms, 016}
attain to an elephantine size.

|2Virag

Pellets of new breadpills with fennygreek |a& gumbenjamina| swamped down by draughts of green tea produce on them |anatural cushions ofa| a quite colossal blubber2| That suits your taste, eh?

Bloom

The stye I dislike

Virag

|2Contact with a goldring, they say. For the rest a woman's favourite remedy2| (coughs encouragingly) |2But2| Possibly it is a wart. I presume you remember what I told you on that subject. Wheatenmeal with honey and nutmeg.

Bloom

(reflecting) It has been a fatiguing, a most unusual day. Wait. Bloodwarts, I mean, wartsblood spreads warts., youº said.

Virag

(severely) Exercise your memnotechnic.

Bloom

|2Mnenmo? Rosemary also. Rosemary also. Mnemno?2|

Virag

|2Technic.2| (taps his volumes with energy) |2Technic.2| Caustic. They must be starved. Snip off with a horsehair under the denned neck. But to change the venue have you made up your mind yet whether you like or dislike women in male costume. (with a dry sneer) You intended to devote one whole year and no more to the study of the religious problem. From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step. Pyjamas, let us say, or those new complicated combinations camiknickers.

(Bloom looks uncertainly at Kitty |2Lawrence Rickets2|, Zoe Higgins and Florrie Talbot, then at the mauveveiled light. Uncertainly he watches and hears the everflying moth.) Virag (whispers in his ear), turning the pages of his volumes|2, prompts into Bloom's ear in a pig's whisper.2| Bloom nods, repeats)

Bloom

Insects of the day spend their brief existence chiefly in reiterated coition. The smell of the female attracts them. But night insects like this one are, which follow light, are the victims of illusion. Their movements are automatic. They no longer pursue seize and fecundate the female. That is his sun, the midnight sun. It suits him. Night bird to night town.
{ms, 017}

(Virag still turning the pages whispers more and more into Bloom's ear)

Bloom

(repeats) Yes. And that bee, as I observed the other day, was |2buzzing butting2| against his own shadow on the wall. He dazed himself finally and drowsed me. That's it. In a dazed condition he wandered down into my shirt and reached my belly. Yes, it was well I woke. Naturally,º a woman's case is still worse. That is why they fear all vermin, all creeping things. Of course. They feel themselves always open. Yet Eve did not fear the serpent. One of those contradictions. Well first of all it is not a historical fact. Also the reason is sufficiently obvious. Those serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. Wind their way through miles of forest to her and suck her breast dry. Just like a baby.

|2Bloom

Nay, cows with distended udders have been known spontaneously. What? I beg your pardon. So! Spontaneously to seek out the |areptile's saurian'sa| nest in order to entrust their teats to his avid suction.2| Extraordinary thing instinct, isn't it? It leads us all. In life. In death too. That moth there.

The Moth

I'm a tiny tiny thing
Ever flying in the spring
Round and round a ringaring
Long ago I was a king
Now I do this sort of thing,
On the wing. On the wing,
Bing!

(He rushes against the red tissuepaper, flapping noisily)

The Moth

Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty petticoats.

(Henry Flower stands on Bloom's right. He wears a drooping black sombrero and a black velvet cloak under which he holds a dulcimer. He has black velvet hose and stockings and black shoes with silver buckles. |2(He has the saviourlike air, romantic facial expression, carefully thinned beardº & moustache, spindle legs and elegant feet of |athe tenora| Mario, prince of Candia)2| He touches softly seven notes of the dulcimir)

Henry

(in a low voice) All is lost now.

(Virag stares at the lamp. Bloom regards Zoe's neck. Henry turns to the piano)

Stephen

(to himself) |2|aStephen Stevea|, thou art in a parlous way2| I am partially drunk. |2|aImitate pa.a| Play the piano without looking |alike your drunken daa|.2| (he
{ms, 018}
touches the keys again) Not much however.

|2(Twinfigures, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober, appear, in accurate morning dress at his right and left elbow.)

Philip |aDrunk Sobera|

|aTake a fool's advicea| Work it out with the buttend of a pencil. Three pounds eighteen you got. Mooney's en ville, Mooney's sur mer, Moira, Larchet's, Holles street, Burke's. Eh? I'm watching you.

Philip Drunk

Ah, nonsense, man. |aGo to hell.a| If I could find out about octaves. Who was it told me her name? Aha, yes. Zoe. Zoe mou, sas agapo. |aHave a notion I was here before. Yes, O evidentlya| Also there was that chap, ah yes, Atkinson, in the where was it, no not Atkinson, his card I have somewhere, Mac something, Unmock, I have it, he told me about, hold on, Swinburne, was it? No.2|

(Florrie Power regards him with stupoo stupour)

Florrieº

Are you out of Maynooth?

Stephen

I am out of it now (to himself) Clever. By the way have I the match, the key, the stick? (he sees it) Yes.

Zoe

There was a priest here on Monday to do his bit of business with his coat buttoned up. You needn't try to hide, |2says I I says2| to him. I know you've a Roman collar.

Virag

(harshly) There is nothing new under the sun. Read The Monks and the Maidens. These are all natural phenomena. Do as you please but face the facts. Goodnight.

(He retires to the door.( Henry Flower follows him quietly) |2(his hand on his head)2|

Henry

There is peace in the |2cloister. nunnery.2|

|2(He combs his hair, beard and moustache rapidly with a pocketcomb and follows Virag quietly)2|

Bloom

(to Zoe) I hope you |2heard his confession gave him your absolution2|

|2Lynch

Nine glorias for shooting a bishop.2|

Zoe

(|2flirting with spouting2| her smoke) He couldn't get connection. Only, you know, sensation. A dry rush.

Bloom

(seriously) O. Poor man!

|2Zoe

Only for what happened him.

Kitty

And Molly |aSaunders Shortalla| that was in the Lock hospital for the pox |ashe got from Jimmy Pidgeon, a |bcorporal of private inb| the blue capsa|. And she had a child that couldn't swallow and died strangled.

Florrieº

(nods) Locomotor ataxy that's called

Zoe

(mockingly) Did you swallow a dictionary

|aLynch

The illustrious Metchnikoff has lately inoculated anthropoid apesa|2|

Stephen

(over his shoulder) You would have preferredº the founder of the protestant error.

Zoeº

(lightly) All one and the same God.

Lynch

|2sovereign l Lord of all things (turns to)2| (to Florrie Talbot, indicating Stephen) Beware of him. He is a spoiled priest.

Florrie

Is that so?

Lynch

A cardinal's son.

|2Stephen

A cardinal sin.2|

(His Eminence Cardinal Simon Dedalus appears in the doorway. He is all in red, soutane,
{ms, 019}
shoes and socks. |2(Seven dwarf acolytes|a, the seven cardinal sins,a| also in red hold up his train, peeping under it)2| He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. |2His thumbs are stuck in his armpits and the palms of his hands outspread.2| Round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his breast in a corkscrew cross. |2He looks at all for a moment, his right eye closed tight, his left cheek puffed out, struggling to suppress his merriment.2|º Then he proclaims with bloated pomp).

The Cardinal

Conservio lies captured.
He lies in the lowest dungeons
With manacles and chains around his limbs
Weighing upwards of three tons.
|2He looks at all for a moment, his right eye closed tight, his left cheek puffed out, struggling to suppress his merriment. |a(He rocks from side to side and chants with broad rollicking humour:)
O the poor little fellow
His legs they were yellow
He was plump fat & heavy & brisk as a snake
But some bloody savage
To graise his white cabbage
He murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake.

(He scratches himself with crossed arms at his ribs, grimacing sourly)

The Cardinal

Thanks be to Jesus they're not unanimous. If they were they'd walk me off the face of the earth.a|2|

(He shuffles off comically, shaking his head from side to side, shrinking quickly to the size of his trainbearers. The dwarf acolytes, giggling, peeping, zigzag behind him. |2Hisº voice is heard, merciful, beautiful, male, eternal,

Shall carry my heart to thee
Shall carry my heart to thee
And the breath of the balmy night,
2|

Bloom advances and, taking the chocolate from his pocket, offers it to Zoe Higgins)

Zoe

|2O2| Thank your mother for the rabbits. |2I'm very fond of what I like.2| |2(She takes a piece and nibbles. Kitty Ricketts does the same) (tears open the silver paper and breaks the chocolate) Fingers was made before forks (she nibbles and, offers a piece to Kitty Ricketts who chews and sucks. L To Lynch invitingly):2|

Zoe

|2(invitingly to Lynch)2| No objections to French lozenges.

|2Zoe

(he nods. She taunts him) Will you have it now or wait till you get it? (he opens his mouth)2| Catch!

(|2He opens his mouth2| She tosses him a piece of chocolate. He catches it in his mouth and chews. Kitty Ricketts offers a piece to Bloom. He declines with a deprecating gesture a but then accepts)

Bloom

What if it were aphrodisiac? But no, I bought it. Vanilla too is a sedative. Mnemno—technic. Possibly the confused light here confuses the memory. It seems to influence also the taste of this chocolate. Influence of colours. This colour influences lupus, I think. Lupus, yes. Mnemnotechnic. It encourages hypochondriacs out of their state. The choice of colours is important, suggestive.

|2Bloom

The character of women, any they have, is largely influenced |abya| the style, hue and texture of their garments.2| My black figure here is too sad. Let us eat and rejoice. Or is it because I have not tasted chocolate for a long time. Aphrodisiac. A serious
{ms, 020}
thing that about the priest. That must come some day. Better late than never. Tomorrow I shall look for some truffles.

(Bella Cohen, a massive whoremistress, enters the room. She is dressed in an |2¾2| ivoryº evening gown |2fringed round the hem with heavy selvedge2| and carries a black fan of horn which she flutters. |2(like Minnie Hauck in Carmen.)2| Her eyes are deeply carboned. She has a sprouting moustache. Her face is heavy, fullnosed, olivehued. She has large pendent ear rings)

Bella

My word! I'm all of a mucksweat.

(She glances round her at the couples. Then her eyes rest on Bloom with hard insistency. Her large fan winnows cooler wind towards her neck and face and rising bosom. Her falcon eyes glitter.)

The Fan

(flirting |2quickly, then2| slowly) Married, I see.

Bloom

Yes. Married.

|2The Fan

(half opening and closing) And the missus is master, I think. Petticoat government.

Bloomº

(looks down sheepishly) That is so.2|

The Fan

(closing together, rests against her left earring) Have you forgotten me?

Bloom

Nes. Yo.

The Fan

(folded|2, lies akimbo2| against her waist)
Is this was as you thought before?
Was she then what you since here knew?
Am all one and the same now me?

Bloom

(with profound humility) Powerful being! In my eyes read that slumber which women love. Absolutely unlimited is the submission of my soul. Awe and despair possess me.

(Bella approaches silently, tapping her fan. Bloom winces at her approach)

Bloom

(as she stands beside him) Enormously I desire your domination. But I fear. I am
{ms, 021}
alone, exhausted, abandoned, no more young. Theº door and window open in a right line cause a draught |2of 32 feet per second2| according to the laws of |2physics falling bodies2|. I have felt a twinge of sciatica in my left glutear muscle. Long exposure on the rocks in the late dewy evening may have brought it on. |2at my age2| Would, O would I were young again! Queen, marvellous commanding woman, restore to me my youth. O embrace |2allround2| everywhere of universal woman! I will eat my life from your |2royal2| hands. Feed me abundantly with miracle working truffles.

Bellaº

(with a hard stare) Hound of dishonour!

Bloom

Empress!

Bella

Adorer of the adulterous rump!

Bloom

Hugeness!

Bella

Dungdevourer!

Bloom

Magnificence!

Bella

(tips him on the shoulder with her fan) Down!

Bloom

(sinks on all fours with a piercing |2epileptic2| cry) Truffles! (he grovels, grunting, snuffling, rooting at her feet).º