(A Nymph, with hair unbound, lightly clad in teabrown |2artcolours2|, |2appears near advances from her grotto & bends over2| Bloom. She looks down at him with Marion Bloom's glances but softer.
|2The |aTrees Yewsa|
(all their leaves whispering) Sister. Our sister. Ssh!2|
(softly) Mortal! (he
up tries to lift his
head2|) Mortal, you
found me in the company of highkickers,
generals and immoral
cheap paper that smelt of petroleum, surrounded by stale jokes of clubmen, pointless
stories |2advertisements of transparencies and rubber goods2| and allusions to disturb the mind of raw adults.
You mean in Photo Bits?
Exactly. You bore me away and framed me in tinsel and placed me above your marriage couch.
(tenderly) I did. Because you were beautiful, O immortal, and my eyes were glad to look upon you.
But I have heard during the |alonga| night, quite other praise
(quickly) Yes, yes. Steelwine &c.
(bends her face and places her little fingers) And sometimes words. (she bends her head) which are not |aprinteda| in the dictionary
(hesitates) No? But you understood
(covers her face with her hands) What have I not seen |2& heard2| in that chamber? What must my eyes look down on? |2in the chamber of love.2|
(apologetically) I know. |2I quite understand.2| The quoits are loose. |2Sleep reveals the worst aspect of everybody, children perhaps excepted. Steelwine is said to cure snoring. For the rest there is that English invention The Wonder Worker |athe pamphlet of whicha| which I received some days |ais claimed to afford a noiseless venta| (he sighs) |aSuch Perhapsa| 'Twas ever thus. Frailty, thy name is marriage.2| Soiled personal linen also. |2Wrong side up with care.2| She, yes. And that |2absurd thing |aabsurda| porcelain utensil2| which has only one handle.
through half open fingers) Worse. Still worse.
(mingling their bows, whispering) Listen. Whisper. She is right, our sister! We grew near by Poulaphouca waterfall. |aWe gave shade on langourous summer daysa|
John Wyse Nolan
(in the background, in |aIrisha| national forester's dress, doffs his plumed hat) |aIncrease and multiply, Give shade on langourousº days,a| trees of Ireland.
I was only sixteen. The heat. The summer. The tipsycake.
(rustling) She is right, our sister. Whisper. Who profaned
our silent shade?º2|
(coyly, through half open fingers) There? In the open air?
(sweeping down) Sister, yes. Whisper. And on our virgin sward.
|a(withdrawing (parting her fingers widera|) O, infamy!
My age. A natural phenomenon. The flesh. The image of Lotty Clarke whom I had seen at her night toilet. |aI respect real virtue. Whenever unread I set eyes on artless blushes I always looked away. A girl was standing before the monkey cages in the zoo where the watching a lustful chimpanzee. Her hands were crossed at her groin. I looked stared at them with meaning. She blushed deeply, artlessly. I looked away. (loudly) I respect true modesty.a| Besides,º |athat daya| no-one saw.
(A calf thrusts a |awhite hornlessa| head through the swaying foliage)
Me. It was shown to me. But I was too young to understand.
(His honour sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, in judicial garb appears seated under the yews)
(hotly) A most scandalous corruption of minors. Let him be detained in Mountjoy prisonº during H M pleasure.º (He weeps) Poor calf! So to blast all her future life. |aTo cast a dark shadow over her cowhood.a|
(assuming the form of
a poora| old
woman,a| a milkcan on her
arm) To have seen what I have seen! (She assumes the form of a
young and haughty
See what I see! (she
re assumes the form
of a |ablue &
whitea| madonna with joined
hands and downcast eyes) A shame in my
(abjectly) Yes. Enemas I have administered. One third of a pint of infusion of quassia to which a tablespoonful of rock salt had been added. Yes. Also, I admit that I have paid homage too there where the back changes its name. |2Itº overpowers me. It is so characteristic of the female body. |aEven to sit where a woman has lately offers satisfactiona|2|
(withdrawing her hands |2from her face slowly.2| |2and reveals her face within the wimple of a nun2|) But the face is the mirror of |2woman's |athe heart of woman with the femalea|2| soul, |2(low and softly) Tranquilla convent. Feast of Mount Carmel.2| her tenderness, her love, her beauty. Mortals, gaze on me. |2Come. In my bower there is no desired, no desirer. Only beauty, love and tenderness ethereal2|
(starts |2violently to his feet at once2|) You are no immortal. Be gone. |2Omelette without eggs.2|
(The Nymph vanishes|2). He calls after her)
I |bsaw seeb| your pruningknife too|b,. Fair play,b| madam. What? The fox and the grapes, is it?a| We pay on the nail. |afor all we get.a| The labourer is worthy of his stud fee.2|