Episode 11: Sirens (Literary technique: Fuga per canonem (fugue or polyphony by rule: weaving of various voices and motifs in counterpoint to one another). Art: Music. Time: 38 40 pm. Place: Ormond Hotel



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Bloom becomes the worshipped idol of women, who commit suicide out of devotion to him. Alexander J. Dowie declares him a hypocrite; the mob becomes hostile. Expert medical testimony is given. Buck Mulligan pleads Bloom’s dementia, Dr. Madden, Crothers, and Costello corroborate and Dr. Dixon calls him the “finished example of the new womanly man” who is about to have a baby. He gives birth to eight male children.
O'MADDEN BURKE: Free fox in a free henroost.
DAVY BYRNE: (YAWNING) Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach!
BLOOM: Mixed races and mixed marriage.
LENEHAN: What about mixed bathing?
(BLOOM EXPLAINS TO THOSE NEAR HIM HIS SCHEMES FOR SOCIAL REGENERATION.

ALL AGREE WITH HIM. THE KEEPER OF THE KILDARE STREET MUSEUM APPEARS,

DRAGGING A LORRY ON WHICH ARE THE SHAKING STATUES OF SEVERAL NAKED

GODDESSES, VENUS CALLIPYGE, VENUS PANDEMOS, VENUS METEMPSYCHOSIS, AND

PLASTER FIGURES, ALSO NAKED, REPRESENTING THE NEW NINE MUSES, COMMERCE,

OPERATIC MUSIC, AMOR, PUBLICITY, MANUFACTURE, LIBERTY OF SPEECH, PLURAL

VOTING, GASTRONOMY, PRIVATE HYGIENE, SEASIDE CONCERT ENTERTAINMENTS,

PAINLESS OBSTETRICS AND ASTRONOMY FOR THE PEOPLE.)
FATHER FARLEY: He is an episcopalian, an agnostic, an anythingarian

seeking to overthrow our holy faith.
MRS RIORDAN: (TEARS UP HER WILL) I'm disappointed in you! You bad man!
MOTHER GROGAN: (REMOVES HER BOOT TO THROW IT AT BLOOM) You beast! You

abominable person!
NOSEY FLYNN: Give us a tune, Bloom. One of the old sweet songs.
BLOOM: (WITH ROLLICKING HUMOUR)

I vowed that I never would leave her,

She turned out a cruel deceiver.

With my tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom.

HOPPY HOLOHAN: Good old Bloom! There's nobody like him after all.
PADDY LEONARD: Stage Irishman!
BLOOM: What railway opera is like a tramline in Gibraltar? The Rows of

Casteele. (LAUGHTER.)
LENEHAN: Plagiarist! Down with Bloom!
THE VEILED SIBYL: (ENTHUSIASTICALLY) I'm a Bloomite and I glory in it. I

believe in him in spite of all. I'd give my life for him, the funniest

man on earth.
BLOOM: (WINKS AT THE BYSTANDERS) I bet she's a bonny lassie.
THEODORE PUREFOY: (IN FISHINGCAP AND OILSKIN JACKET) He employs a

mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of nature.
THE VEILED SIBYL: (STABS HERSELF) My hero god! (SHE DIES)
(MANY MOST ATTRACTIVE AND ENTHUSIASTIC WOMEN ALSO COMMIT SUICIDE BY

STABBING, DROWNING, DRINKING PRUSSIC ACID, ACONITE, ARSENIC, OPENING

THEIR VEINS, REFUSING FOOD, CASTING THEMSELVES UNDER STEAMROLLERS, FROM

THE TOP OF NELSON'S PILLAR, INTO THE GREAT VAT OF GUINNESS'S BREWERY,

ASPHYXIATING THEMSELVES BY PLACING THEIR HEADS IN GASOVENS, HANGING

THEMSELVES IN STYLISH GARTERS, LEAPING FROM WINDOWS OF DIFFERENT

STOREYS.)
ALEXANDER J DOWIE: (VIOLENTLY) Fellowchristians and antiBloomites, the

man called Bloom is from the roots of hell, a disgrace to christian men.

A fiendish libertine from his earliest years this stinking goat of Mendes

gave precocious signs of infantile debauchery, recalling the cities of

the plain, with a dissolute granddam. This vile hypocrite, bronzed with

infamy, is the white bull mentioned in the Apocalypse. A worshipper of

the Scarlet Woman, intrigue is the very breath of his nostrils. The stake

faggots and the caldron of boiling oil are for him. Caliban!
THE MOB: Lynch him! Roast him! He's as bad as Parnell was. Mr Fox!
(MOTHER GROGAN THROWS HER BOOT AT BLOOM. SEVERAL SHOPKEEPERS FROM UPPER

AND LOWER DORSET STREET THROW OBJECTS OF LITTLE OR NO COMMERCIAL VALUE,

HAMBONES, CONDENSED MILK TINS, UNSALEABLE CABBAGE, STALE BREAD, SHEEP'S

TAILS, ODD PIECES OF FAT.)
BLOOM: (EXCITEDLY) This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke again. By

heaven, I am guiltless as the unsunned snow! It was my brother Henry. He

is my double. He lives in number 2 Dolphin's Barn. Slander, the viper,

has wrongfully accused me. Fellowcountrymen, SGENL INN BAN BATA COISDE

GAN CAPALL. I call on my old friend, Dr Malachi Mulligan, sex specialist,

to give medical testimony on my behalf.
DR MULLIGAN: (IN MOTOR JERKIN, GREEN MOTORGOGGLES ON HIS BROW) Dr Bloom

is bisexually abnormal. He has recently escaped from Dr Eustace's private

asylum for demented gentlemen. Born out of bedlock hereditary epilepsy is

present, the consequence of unbridled lust. Traces of elephantiasis have

been discovered among his ascendants. There are marked symptoms of

chronic exhibitionism. Ambidexterity is also latent. He is prematurely

bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed

rake, and has metal teeth. In consequence of a family complex he has

temporarily lost his memory and I believe him to be more sinned against

than sinning. I have made a pervaginal examination and, after application

of the acid test to 5427 anal, axillary, pectoral and pubic hairs, I

declare him to be VIRGO INTACTA.
(BLOOM HOLDS HIS HIGH GRADE HAT OVER HIS GENITAL ORGANS.)
DR MADDEN: Hypsospadia is also marked. In the interest of coming

generations I suggest that the parts affected should be preserved in

spirits of wine in the national teratological museum.
DR CROTTHERS: I have examined the patient's urine. It is albuminoid.

Salivation is insufficient, the patellar reflex intermittent.
DR PUNCH COSTELLO: The FETOR JUDAICUS is most perceptible.
DR DIXON: (READS A BILL OF HEALTH) Professor Bloom is a finished example

of the new womanly man. His moral nature is simple and lovable. Many have

found him a dear man, a dear person. He is a rather quaint fellow on the

whole, coy though not feebleminded in the medical sense. He has written a

really beautiful letter, a poem in itself, to the court missionary of the

Reformed Priests' Protection Society which clears up everything. He is

practically a total abstainer and I can affirm that he sleeps on a straw

litter and eats the most Spartan food, cold dried grocer's peas. He wears

a hairshirt of pure Irish manufacture winter and summer and scourges

himself every Saturday. He was, I understand, at one time a firstclass

misdemeanant in Glencree reformatory. Another report states that he was a

very posthumous child. I appeal for clemency in the name of the most

sacred word our vocal organs have ever been called upon to speak. He is

about to have a baby.
(GENERAL COMMOTION AND COMPASSION. WOMEN FAINT. A WEALTHY AMERICAN MAKES

A STREET COLLECTION FOR BLOOM. GOLD AND SILVER COINS, BLANK CHEQUES,

BANKNOTES, JEWELS, TREASURY BONDS, MATURING BILLS OF EXCHANGE, I. O. U'S,

WEDDING RINGS, WATCHCHAINS, LOCKETS, NECKLACES AND BRACELETS ARE RAPIDLY

COLLECTED.)
BLOOM: O, I so want to be a mother.
MRS THORNTON: (IN NURSETENDER'S GOWN) Embrace me tight, dear. You'll be

soon over it. Tight, dear.
(BLOOM EMBRACES HER TIGHTLY AND BEARS EIGHT MALE YELLOW AND WHITE

CHILDREN. THEY APPEAR ON A REDCARPETED STAIRCASE ADORNED WITH EXPENSIVE

PLANTS. ALL THE OCTUPLETS ARE HANDSOME, WITH VALUABLE METALLIC FACES,

WELLMADE, RESPECTABLY DRESSED AND WELLCONDUCTED, SPEAKING FIVE MODERN

LANGUAGES FLUENTLY AND INTERESTED IN VARIOUS ARTS AND SCIENCES. EACH HAS

HIS NAME PRINTED IN LEGIBLE LETTERS ON HIS SHIRTFRONT: NASODORO,

GOLDFINGER, CHRYSOSTOMOS, MAINDOREE, SILVERSMILE, SILBERSELBER,

VIFARGENT, PANARGYROS. THEY ARE IMMEDIATELY APPOINTED TO POSITIONS OF

HIGH PUBLIC TRUST IN SEVERAL DIFFERENT COUNTRIES AS MANAGING DIRECTORS OF

BANKS, TRAFFIC MANAGERS OF RAILWAYS, CHAIRMEN OF LIMITED LIABILITY

COMPANIES, VICECHAIRMEN OF HOTEL SYNDICATES.)
Bloom is proclaimed the Messiah.
A VOICE: Bloom, are you the Messiah ben Joseph or ben David?
BLOOM: (DARKLY) You have said it.
BROTHER BUZZ: Then perform a miracle like Father Charles.
BANTAM LYONS: Prophesy who will win the Saint Leger.
(BLOOM WALKS ON A NET, COVERS HIS LEFT EYE WITH HIS LEFT EAR, PASSES

THROUGH SEVERAL WALLS, CLIMBS NELSON'S PILLAR, HANGS FROM THE TOP LEDGE

BY HIS EYELIDS, EATS TWELVE DOZEN OYSTERS (SHELLS INCLUDED), HEALS

SEVERAL SUFFERERS FROM KING'S EVIL, CONTRACTS HIS FACE SO AS TO RESEMBLE

MANY HISTORICAL PERSONAGES, LORD BEACONSFIELD, LORD BYRON, WAT TYLER,

MOSES OF EGYPT, MOSES MAIMONIDES, MOSES MENDELSSOHN, HENRY IRVING, RIP

VAN WINKLE, KOSSUTH, JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU, BARON LEOPOLD ROTHSCHILD,

ROBINSON CRUSOE, SHERLOCK HOLMES, PASTEUR, TURNS EACH FOOT SIMULTANEOUSLY

IN DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS, BIDS THE TIDE TURN BACK, ECLIPSES THE SUN BY

EXTENDING HIS LITTLE FINGER.)
BRINI, PAPAL NUNCIO: (IN PAPAL ZOUAVE'S UNIFORM, STEEL CUIRASSES AS

BREASTPLATE, ARMPLATES, THIGHPLATES, LEGPLATES, LARGE PROFANE MOUSTACHES

AND BROWN PAPER MITRE) LEOPOLDI AUTEM GENERATIO. Moses begat Noah and

Noah begat Eunuch and Eunuch begat O'Halloran and O'Halloran begat

Guggenheim and Guggenheim begat Agendath and Agendath begat Netaim and

Netaim begat Le Hirsch and Le Hirsch begat Jesurum and Jesurum begat

MacKay and MacKay begat Ostrolopsky and Ostrolopsky begat Smerdoz and

Smerdoz begat Weiss and Weiss begat Schwarz and Schwarz begat Adrianopoli

and Adrianopoli begat Aranjuez and Aranjuez begat Lewy Lawson and Lewy

Lawson begat Ichabudonosor and Ichabudonosor begat O'Donnell Magnus and

O'Donnell Magnus begat Christbaum and Christbaum begat ben Maimun and ben

Maimun begat Dusty Rhodes and Dusty Rhodes begat Benamor and Benamor

begat Jones-Smith and Jones-Smith begat Savorgnanovich and Savorgnanovich

begat Jasperstone and Jasperstone begat Vingtetunieme and Vingtetunieme

begat Szombathely and Szombathely begat Virag and Virag begat Bloom ET

VOCABITUR NOMEN EIUS EMMANUEL.
A DEADHAND: (WRITES ON THE WALL) Bloom is a cod.
CRAB: (IN BUSHRANGER'S KIT) What did you do in the cattlecreep behind

Kilbarrack?
A FEMALE INFANT: (SHAKES A RATTLE) And under Ballybough bridge?
A HOLLYBUSH: And in the devil's glen?
BLOOM: (BLUSHES FURIOUSLY ALL OVER FROM FRONS TO NATES, THREE TEARS

FILLING FROM HIS LEFT EYE) Spare my past.
THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: (IN BODYCOATS, KNEEBREECHES, WITH DONNYBROOK

FAIR SHILLELAGHS) Sjambok him!
(BLOOM WITH ASSES' EARS SEATS HIMSELF IN THE PILLORY WITH CROSSED ARMS,

HIS FEET PROTRUDING. HE WHISTLES Don Giovanni, a cenar teco. ARTANE

ORPHANS, JOINING HANDS, CAPER ROUND HIM. GIRLS OF THE PRISON GATE

MISSION, JOINING HANDS, CAPER ROUND IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION.)
THE ARTANE ORPHANS:

You hig, you hog, you dirty dog!

You think the ladies love you!

THE PRISON GATE GIRLS:

If you see Kay

Tell him he may

See you in tea

Tell him from me.

HORNBLOWER: (IN EPHOD AND HUNTINGCAP, ANNOUNCES) And he shall carry the

sins of the people to Azazel, the spirit which is in the wilderness, and

to Lilith, the nighthag. And they shall stone him and defile him, yea,

all from Agendath Netaim and from Mizraim, the land of Ham.
(ALL THE PEOPLE CAST SOFT PANTOMIME STONES AT BLOOM. MANY BONAFIDE

TRAVELLERS AND OWNERLESS DOGS COME NEAR HIM AND DEFILE HIM. MASTIANSKY

AND CITRON APPROACH IN GABERDINES, WEARING LONG EARLOCKS. THEY WAG THEIR

BEARDS AT BLOOM.)
MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: Belial! Laemlein of Istria, the false Messiah!

Abulafia! Recant!
(GEORGE R MESIAS, BLOOM'S TAILOR, APPEARS, A TAILOR'S GOOSE UNDER HIS

ARM, PRESENTING A BILL)
MESIAS: To alteration one pair trousers eleven shillings.
BLOOM: (RUBS HIS HANDS CHEERFULLY) Just like old times. Poor Bloom!
(REUBEN J DODD, BLACKBEARDED ISCARIOT, BAD SHEPHERD, BEARING ON HIS

SHOULDERS THE DROWNED CORPSE OF HIS SON, APPROACHES THE PILLORY.)
REUBEN J: (WHISPERS HOARSELY) The squeak is out. A split is gone for the

flatties. Nip the first rattler.
THE FIRE BRIGADE: Pflaap!
The tide turns and Bloom is put on trial and is executed.
BROTHER BUZZ: (INVESTS BLOOM IN A YELLOW HABIT WITH EMBROIDERY OF PAINTED

FLAMES AND HIGH POINTED HAT. HE PLACES A BAG OF GUNPOWDER ROUND HIS NECK

AND HANDS HIM OVER TO THE CIVIL POWER, SAYING) Forgive him his

trespasses.
(LIEUTENANT MYERS OF THE DUBLIN FIRE BRIGADE BY GENERAL REQUEST SETS FIRE

TO BLOOM. LAMENTATIONS.)
THE CITIZEN: Thank heaven!
BLOOM: (IN A SEAMLESS GARMENT MARKED I. H. S. STANDS UPRIGHT AMID PHOENIX

FLAMES) Weep not for me, O daughters of Erin.
(HE EXHIBITS TO DUBLIN REPORTERS TRACES OF BURNING. THE DAUGHTERS OF

ERIN, IN BLACK GARMENTS, WITH LARGE PRAYERBOOKS AND LONG LIGHTED CANDLES

IN THEIR HANDS, KNEEL DOWN AND PRAY.)
THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN:

Kidney of Bloom, pray for us

Flower of the Bath, pray for us

Mentor of Menton, pray for us

Canvasser for the Freeman, pray for us

Charitable Mason, pray for us

Wandering Soap, pray for us

Sweets of Sin, pray for us

Music without Words, pray for us

Reprover of the Citizen, pray for us

Friend of all Frillies, pray for us

Midwife Most Merciful, pray for us

Potato Preservative against Plague and Pestilence, pray for us.
(A CHOIR OF SIX HUNDRED VOICES, CONDUCTED BY VINCENT O'BRIEN, SINGS THE

CHORUS FROM HANDEL'S MESSIAH ALLELUIA FOR THE LORD GOD OMNIPOTENT

REIGNETH, ACCOMPANIED ON THE ORGAN BY JOSEPH GLYNN. BLOOM BECOMES MUTE,

SHRUNKEN, CARBONISED.)
Zoe completes her request that Bloom “Talk away till you’re blue in the face,” and the reader realizes that the entire fantasy has happened in an instant. Another fantasy takes over in which Bloom becomes the stage Irish peasant of a Synge play pleading to be allowed to go home.
ZOE: Talk away till you're black in the face.
BLOOM: (IN CAUBEEN WITH CLAY PIPE STUCK IN THE BAND, DUSTY BROGUES, AN

EMIGRANT'S RED HANDKERCHIEF BUNDLE IN HIS HAND, LEADING A BLACK BOGOAK

PIG BY A SUGAUN, WITH A SMILE IN HIS EYE) Let me be going now, woman of

the house, for by all the goats in Connemara I'm after having the father

and mother of a bating. (WITH A TEAR IN HIS EYE) All insanity.

Patriotism, sorrow for the dead, music, future of the race. To be or not

to be. Life's dream is o'er. End it peacefully. They can live on. (HE

GAZES FAR AWAY MOURNFULLY) I am ruined. A few pastilles of aconite. The

blinds drawn. A letter. Then lie back to rest. (HE BREATHES SOFTLY) No

more. I have lived. Fare. Farewell.
ZOE: (STIFFLY, HER FINGER IN HER NECKFILLET) Honest? Till the next time.

(SHE SNEERS) Suppose you got up the wrong side of the bed or came too

quick with your best girl. O, I can read your thoughts!
BLOOM: (BITTERLY) Man and woman, love, what is it? A cork and bottle. I'm

sick of it. Let everything rip.
ZOE: (IN SUDDEN SULKS) I hate a rotter that's insincere. Give a bleeding

whore a chance.
BLOOM: (REPENTANTLY) I am very disagreeable. You are a necessary evil.

Where are you from? London?
ZOE: (GLIBLY) Hog's Norton where the pigs plays the organs. I'm Yorkshire

born. (SHE HOLDS HIS HAND WHICH IS FEELING FOR HER NIPPLE) I say, Tommy

Tittlemouse. Stop that and begin worse. Have you cash for a short time?

Ten shillings?
BLOOM: (SMILES, NODS SLOWLY) More, houri, more.
ZOE: And more's mother? (SHE PATS HIM OFFHANDEDLY WITH VELVET PAWS) Are

you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola? Come and I'll peel

off.
BLOOM: (FEELING HIS OCCIPUT DUBIOUSLY WITH THE UNPARALLELED EMBARRASSMENT

OF A HARASSED PEDLAR GAUGING THE SYMMETRY OF HER PEELED PEARS) Somebody

would be dreadfully jealous if she knew. The greeneyed monster.

(EARNESTLY) You know how difficult it is. I needn't tell you.
ZOE: (FLATTERED) What the eye can't see the heart can't grieve for. (SHE

PATS HIM) Come.
BLOOM: Laughing witch! The hand that rocks the cradle.
ZOE: Babby!
BLOOM: (IN BABYLINEN AND PELISSE, BIGHEADED, WITH A CAUL OF DARK HAIR,

FIXES BIG EYES ON HER FLUID SLIP AND COUNTS ITS BRONZE BUCKLES WITH A

CHUBBY FINGER, HIS MOIST TONGUE LOLLING AND LISPING) One two tlee: tlee

tlwo tlone.
THE BUCKLES: Love me. Love me not. Love me.
ZOE: Silent means consent. (WITH LITTLE PARTED TALONS SHE CAPTURES HIS

HAND, HER FOREFINGER GIVING TO HIS PALM THE PASSTOUCH OF SECRET MONITOR,

LURING HIM TO DOOM.) Hot hands cold gizzard.
(HE HESITATES AMID SCENTS, MUSIC, TEMPTATIONS. SHE LEADS HIM TOWARDS THE

STEPS, DRAWING HIM BY THE ODOUR OF HER ARMPITS, THE VICE OF HER PAINTED

EYES, THE RUSTLE OF HER SLIP IN WHOSE SINUOUS FOLDS LURKS THE LION REEK

OF ALL THE MALE BRUTES THAT HAVE POSSESSED HER.)
THE MALE BRUTES: (EXHALING SULPHUR OF RUT AND DUNG AND RAMPING IN THEIR

LOOSEBOX, FAINTLY ROARING, THEIR DRUGGED HEADS SWAYING TO AND FRO) Good!
(ZOE AND BLOOM REACH THE DOORWAY WHERE TWO SISTER WHORES ARE SEATED. THEY

EXAMINE HIM CURIOUSLY FROM UNDER THEIR PENCILLED BROWS AND SMILE TO HIS

HASTY BOW. HE TRIPS AWKWARDLY.)
ZOE: (HER LUCKY HAND INSTANTLY SAVING HIM) Hoopsa! Don't fall upstairs.
BLOOM: The just man falls seven times. (HE STANDS ASIDE AT THE THRESHOLD)

After you is good manners.
ZOE: Ladies first, gentlemen after.
(SHE CROSSES THE THRESHOLD. HE HESITATES. SHE TURNS AND, HOLDING OUT HER

HANDS, DRAWS HIM OVER. HE HOPS. ON THE ANTLERED RACK OF THE HALL HANG A

MAN 'S HAT AND WATERPROOF. BLOOM UNCOVERS HIMSELF BUT, SEEING THEM,

FROWNS, THEN SMILES, PREOCCUPIED. A DOOR ON THE RETURN LANDING IS FLUNG

OPEN. A MAN IN PURPLE SHIRT AND GREY TROUSERS, BROWNSOCKED, PASSES WITH

AN APE'S GAIT, HIS BALD HEAD AND GOATEE BEARD UPHELD, HUGGING A FULL

WATERJUGJAR, HIS TWOTAILED BLACK BRACES DANGLING AT HEELS. AVERTING HIS

FACE QUICKLY BLOOM BENDS TO EXAMINE ON THE HALLTABLE THE SPANIEL EYES OF

A RUNNING FOX: THEN, HIS LIFTED HEAD SNIFFING, FOLLOWS ZOE INTO THE

MUSICROOM. A SHADE OF MAUVE TISSUEPAPER DIMS THE LIGHT OF THE CHANDELIER.

ROUND AND ROUND A MOTH FLIES, COLLIDING, ESCAPING. THE FLOOR IS COVERED

WITH AN OILCLOTH MOSAIC OF JADE AND AZURE AND CINNABAR RHOMBOIDS.

FOOTMARKS ARE STAMPED OVER IT IN ALL SENSES, HEEL TO HEEL, HEEL TO

HOLLOW, TOE TO TOE, FEET LOCKED, A MORRIS OF SHUFFLING FEET WITHOUT BODY

PHANTOMS, ALL IN A SCRIMMAGE HIGGLEDYPIGGLEDY. THE WALLS ARE TAPESTRIED

WITH A PAPER OF YEWFRONDS AND CLEAR GLADES. IN THE GRATE IS SPREAD A

SCREEN OF PEACOCK FEATHERS. LYNCH SQUATS CROSSLEGGED ON THE HEARTHRUG OF

MATTED HAIR, HIS CAP BACK TO THE FRONT. WITH A WAND HE BEATS TIME SLOWLY.

KITTY RICKETTS, A BONY PALLID WHORE IN NAVY COSTUME, DOESKIN GLOVES

ROLLED BACK FROM A CORAL WRISTLET, A CHAIN PURSE IN HER HAND, SITS

PERCHED ON THE EDGE OF THE TABLE SWINGING HER LEG AND GLANCING AT HERSELF

IN THE GILT MIRROR OVER THE MANTELPIECE. A TAG OF HER CORSETLACE HANGS

SLIGHTLY BELOW HER JACKET. LYNCH INDICATES MOCKINGLY THE COUPLE AT THE

PIANO.)
Movement 3: Inside Bella Cohen’s
Bloom joins Stephen and Lynch in the parlor of the bordello where a drunken Stephen attempts to entertain the assembled prostitutes. He and Bloom experience a series of hallucinations recapitulating important themes of the novel and emphasizing important psychological and sexual concerns of these two characters. Florry Talbot mentions that the last day is coming and Antichrist is expected and a hallucination ensues of the end of the world populated by characters and details from Stephen’s day. Bloom’s grandfather, Lipoti Virag, appears who offers a coldly clinical analyis of the whores with textbook pedantry (aspect of Bloom’s scientific self). Virag gives way to Henry Flower (Bloom’s romantic alter-ego). The hallucinations shifts back to Stephen and drifts in and out of their respective fantasies.
KITTY: (COUGHS BEHIND HER HAND) She's a bit imbecillic. (SHE SIGNS WITH A

WAGGLING FOREFINGER) Blemblem. (LYNCH LIFTS UP HER SKIRT AND WHITE

PETTICOAT WITH HIS WAND SHE SETTLES THEM DOWN QUICKLY.) Respect yourself.

(SHE HICCUPS, THEN BENDS QUICKLY HER SAILOR HAT UNDER WHICH HER HAIR

GLOWS, RED WITH HENNA) O, excuse!
ZOE: More limelight, Charley. (SHE GOES TO THE CHANDELIER AND TURNS THE

GAS FULL COCK)
KITTY: (PEERS AT THE GASJET) What ails it tonight?
LYNCH: (DEEPLY) Enter a ghost and hobgoblins.
ZOE: Clap on the back for Zoe.
(THE WAND IN LYNCH'S HAND FLASHES: A BRASS POKER. STEPHEN STANDS AT THE

PIANOLA ON WHICH SPRAWL HIS HAT AND ASHPLANT. WITH TWO FINGERS HE REPEATS

ONCE MORE THE SERIES OF EMPTY FIFTHS. FLORRY TALBOT, A BLOND FEEBLE

GOOSEFAT WHORE IN A TATTERDEMALION GOWN OF MILDEWED STRAWBERRY, LOLLS

SPREADEAGLE IN THE SOFACORNER, HER LIMP FOREARM PENDENT OVER THE BOLSTER,

LISTENING. A HEAVY STYE DROOPS OVER HER SLEEPY EYELID.)
KITTY: (HICCUPS AGAIN WITH A KICK OF HER HORSED FOOT) O, excuse!
ZOE: (PROMPTLY) Your boy's thinking of you. Tie a knot on your shift.
(KITTY RICKETTS BENDS HER HEAD. HER BOA UNCOILS, SLIDES, GLIDES OVER HER

SHOULDER, BACK, ARM, CHAIR TO THE GROUND. LYNCH LIFTS THE CURLED

CATERPILLAR ON HIS WAND. SHE SNAKES HER NECK, NESTLING. 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

old hymn to Demeter or also illustrate COELA ENARRANT GLORIAM DOMINI. It

is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and

mixolydian and of texts so divergent as priests haihooping round David's

that is Circe's or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the

stable to his chief bassoonist about the alrightness of his almightiness.

MAIS NOM DE NOM, that is another pair of trousers. JETEZ LA GOURME. FAUT

QUE JEUNESSE SE PASSE. (HE STOPS, POINTS AT LYNCH'S CAP, SMILES, LAUGHS)

Which side is your knowledge bump?
THE CAP: (WITH SATURNINE SPLEEN) Bah! It is because it is. Woman's

reason. Jewgreek is greekjew. Extremes meet. Death is the highest form of

life. Bah!
STEPHEN: You remember fairly accurately all my errors, boasts, mistakes.

How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? Whetstone!
THE CAP: Bah!
STEPHEN: Here's another for you. (HE FROWNS) The reason is because the

fundamental and the dominant are separated by the greatest possible

interval which ...
THE CAP: Which? Finish. You can't.
STEPHEN: (WITH AN EFFORT) Interval which. Is the greatest possible

ellipse. Consistent with. The ultimate return. The octave. Which.
THE CAP: Which?
(OUTSIDE THE GRAMOPHONE BEGINS TO BLARE The Holy City.)
STEPHEN: (ABRUPTLY) What went forth to the ends of the world to traverse

not itself, God, the sun, Shakespeare, a commercial traveller, having

itself traversed in reality itself becomes that self. Wait a moment. Wait

a second. Damn that fellow's noise in the street. Self which it itself

was ineluctably preconditioned to become. ECCO!
LYNCH: (WITH A MOCKING WHINNY OF LAUGHTER GRINS AT BLOOM AND ZOE HIGGINS)

What a learned speech, eh?
ZOE: (BRISKLY) God help your head, he knows more than you have forgotten.
(WITH OBESE STUPIDITY FLORRY TALBOT REGARDS STEPHEN.)
FLORRY: They say the last day is coming this summer.
KITTY: No!
ZOE: (EXPLODES IN LAUGHTER) Great unjust God!
FLORRY: (OFFENDED) Well, it was in the papers about Antichrist. O, my

foot's tickling.
(RAGGED BAREFOOT NEWSBOYS, JOGGING A WAGTAIL KITE, PATTER PAST, YELLING.)
THE NEWSBOYS: Stop press edition. Result of the rockinghorse races. Sea

serpent in the royal canal. Safe arrival of Antichrist.
(STEPHEN TURNS AND SEES BLOOM.)
STEPHEN: A time, times and half a time.
(REUBEN I ANTICHRIST, WANDERING JEW, A CLUTCHING HAND OPEN ON HIS SPINE,

STUMPS FORWARD. ACROSS HIS LOINS IS SLUNG A PILGRIM'S WALLET FROM WHICH

PROTRUDE PROMISSORY NOTES AND DISHONOURED BILLS. ALOFT OVER HIS SHOULDER

HE BEARS A LONG BOATPOLE FROM THE HOOK OF WHICH THE SODDEN HUDDLED MASS

OF HIS ONLY SON, SAVED FROM LIFFEY WATERS, HANGS FROM THE SLACK OF ITS

BREECHES. A HOBGOBLIN IN THE IMAGE OF PUNCH COSTELLO, HIPSHOT,

CROOKBACKED, HYDROCEPHALIC, PROGNATHIC WITH RECEDING FOREHEAD AND ALLY

SLOPER NOSE, TUMBLES IN SOMERSAULTS THROUGH THE GATHERING DARKNESS.)
ALL: What?
THE HOBGOBLIN: (HIS JAWS CHATTERING, CAPERS TO AND FRO, GOGGLING HIS

EYES, SQUEAKING, KANGAROOHOPPING WITH OUTSTRETCHED CLUTCHING ARMS, THEN

ALL AT ONCE THRUSTS HIS LIPLESS FACE THROUGH THE FORK OF HIS THIGHS) IL

VIENT! C'EST MOI! L'HOMME QUI RIT! L'HOMME PRIMIGENE! (HE WHIRLS ROUND

AND ROUND WITH DERVISH HOWLS) SIEURS ET DAMES, FAITES VOS JEUX! (HE

CROUCHES JUGGLING. TINY ROULETTE PLANETS FLY FROM HIS HANDS.) LES JEUX

SONT FAITS! (THE PLANETS RUSH TOGETHER, UTTERING CREPITANT CRACKS) RIEN

VA PLUS! (THE PLANETS, BUOYANT BALLOONS, SAIL SWOLLEN UP AND AWAY. HE

SPRINGS OFF INTO VACUUM.)
FLORRY: (SINKING INTO TORPOR, CROSSING HERSELF SECRETLY) The end of the

world!
(A FEMALE TEPID EFFLUVIUM LEAKS OUT FROM HER. NEBULOUS OBSCURITY OCCUPIES

SPACE. THROUGH THE DRIFTING FOG WITHOUT THE GRAMOPHONE BLARES OVER COUGHS

AND FEETSHUFFLING.)
THE GRAMOPHONE: Jerusalem!
Open your gates and sing
Hosanna ...
(A ROCKET RUSHES UP THE SKY AND BURSTS. A WHITE STAR FILLS FROM IT,

PROCLAIMING THE CONSUMMATION OF ALL THINGS AND SECOND COMING OF ELIJAH.

ALONG AN INFINITE INVISIBLE TIGHTROPE TAUT FROM ZENITH TO NADIR THE END

OF THE WORLD, A TWOHEADED OCTOPUS IN GILLIE'S KILTS, BUSBY AND TARTAN

FILIBEGS, WHIRLS THROUGH THE MURK, HEAD OVER HEELS, IN THE FORM OF THE

THREE LEGS OF MAN.)
THE END OF THE WORLD: (WITH A SCOTCH ACCENT) Wha'll dance the keel row,

the keel row, the keel row?
(OVER THE POSSING DRIFT AND CHOKING BREATHCOUGHS, ELIJAH'S VOICE, HARSH

AS A CORNCRAKE'S, JARS ON HIGH. PERSPIRING IN A LOOSE LAWN SURPLICE WITH

FUNNEL SLEEVES HE IS SEEN, VERGERFACED, ABOVE A ROSTRUM ABOUT WHICH THE

BANNER OF OLD GLORY IS DRAPED. HE THUMPS THE PARAPET.)
ELIJAH: No yapping, if you please, in this booth. Jake Crane, Creole Sue,

Dove Campbell, Abe Kirschner, do your coughing with your mouths shut.

Say, I am operating all this trunk line. Boys, do it now. God's time is

12.25. Tell mother you'll be there. Rush your order and you play a slick

ace. Join on right here. Book through to eternity junction, the nonstop

run. Just one word more. Are you a god or a doggone clod? If the second

advent came to Coney Island are we ready? Florry Christ, Stephen Christ,

Zoe Christ, Bloom Christ, Kitty Christ, Lynch Christ, it's up to you to

sense that cosmic force. Have we cold feet about the cosmos? No. Be on

the side of the angels. Be a prism. You have that something within, the

higher self. You can rub shoulders with a Jesus, a Gautama, an Ingersoll.

Are you all in this vibration? I say you are. You once nobble that,

congregation, and a buck joyride to heaven becomes a back number. You got

me? It's a lifebrightener, sure. The hottest stuff ever was. It's the

whole pie with jam in. It's just the cutest snappiest line out. It is

immense, supersumptuous. It restores. It vibrates. I know and I am some

vibrator. Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A. J. Christ Dowie

and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? O. K. Seventyseven west

sixtyninth street. Got me? That's it. You call me up by sunphone any old

time. Bumboosers, save your stamps. (HE SHOUTS) Now then our glory song.

All join heartily in the singing. Encore! (HE SINGS) Jeru ...
THE GRAMOPHONE: (DROWNING HIS VOICE) Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh ... (THE

DISC RASPS GRATINGLY AGAINST THE NEEDLE)
THE THREE WHORES: (COVERING THEIR EARS, SQUAWK) Ahhkkk!
ELIJAH: (IN ROLLEDUP SHIRTSLEEVES, BLACK IN THE FACE, SHOUTS AT THE TOP

OF HIS VOICE, HIS ARMS UPLIFTED) Big Brother up there, Mr President, you

hear what I done just been saying to you. Certainly, I sort of believe

strong in you, Mr President. I certainly am thinking now Miss Higgins and

Miss Ricketts got religion way inside them. Certainly seems to me I don't

never see no wusser scared female than the way you been, Miss Florry,

just now as I done seed you. Mr President, you come long and help me save

our sisters dear. (HE WINKS AT HIS AUDIENCE) Our Mr President, he twig

the whole lot and he aint saying nothing.
KITTY-KATE: I forgot myself. In a weak moment I erred and did what I did

on Constitution hill. I was confirmed by the bishop and enrolled in the

brown scapular. My mother's sister married a Montmorency. It was a

working plumber was my ruination when I was pure.
ZOE-FANNY: I let him larrup it into me for the fun of it.
FLORRY-TERESA: It was in consequence of a portwine beverage on top of

Hennessy's three star. I was guilty with Whelan when he slipped into the

bed.
STEPHEN: In the beginning was the word, in the end the world without end.

Blessed be the eight beatitudes.
(THE BEATITUDES, DIXON, MADDEN, CROTTHERS, COSTELLO, LENEHAN, BANNON,

MULLIGAN AND LYNCH IN WHITE SURGICAL STUDENTS' GOWNS, FOUR ABREAST,

GOOSESTEPPING, TRAMP FIST PAST IN NOISY MARCHING)
THE BEATITUDES: (INCOHERENTLY) Beer beef battledog buybull businum barnum

buggerum bishop.
LYSTER: (IN QUAKERGREY KNEEBREECHES AND BROADBRIMMED HAT, SAYS

DISCREETLY) He is our friend. I need not mention names. Seek thou the

light.
(HE CORANTOS BY. BEST ENTERS IN HAIRDRESSER'S ATTIRE, SHINILY LAUNDERED,

HIS LOCKS IN CURLPAPERS. HE LEADS JOHN EGLINTON WHO WEARS A MANDARIN'S

KIMONO OF NANKEEN YELLOW, LIZARDLETTERED, AND A HIGH PAGODA HAT.)
BEST: (SMILING, LIFTS THE HAT AND DISPLAYS A SHAVEN POLL FROM THE CROWN

OF WHICH BRISTLES A PIGTAIL TOUPEE TIED WITH AN ORANGE TOPKNOT) I was

just beautifying him, don't you know. A thing of beauty, don't you know,

Yeats says, or I mean, Keats says.
JOHN EGLINTON: (PRODUCES A GREENCAPPED DARK LANTERN AND FLASHES IT

TOWARDS A CORNER: WITH CARPING ACCENT) Esthetics and cosmetics are for

the boudoir. I am out for truth. Plain truth for a plain man. Tanderagee

wants the facts and means to get them.
(IN THE CONE OF THE SEARCHLIGHT BEHIND THE COALSCUTTLE, OLLAVE, HOLYEYED,

THE BEARDED FIGURE OF MANANAUN MACLIR BROODS, CHIN ON KNEES. HE RISES

SLOWLY. A COLD SEAWIND BLOWS FROM HIS DRUID MOUTH. ABOUT HIS HEAD WRITHE

EELS AND ELVERS. HE IS ENCRUSTED WITH WEEDS AND SHELLS. HIS RIGHT HAND

HOLDS A BICYCLE PUMP. HIS LEFT HAND GRASPS A HUGE CRAYFISH BY ITS TWO

TALONS.)
MANANAUN MACLIR: (WITH A VOICE OF WAVES) Aum! Hek! Wal! Ak! Lub! Mor! Ma!

White yoghin of the gods. Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos. (WITH A

VOICE OF WHISTLING SEAWIND) Punarjanam patsypunjaub! I won't have my leg

pulled. It has been said by one: beware the left, the cult of Shakti.

(WITH A CRY OF STORMBIRDS) Shakti Shiva, darkhidden Father! (HE SMITES

WITH HIS BICYCLE PUMP THE CRAYFISH IN HIS LEFT HAND. ON ITS COOPERATIVE

DIAL GLOW THE TWELVE SIGNS OF THE ZODIAC. HE WAILS WITH THE VEHEMENCE OF

THE OCEAN.) Aum! Baum! Pyjaum! I am the light of the homestead! I am the

dreamery creamery butter.
(A SKELETON JUDASHAND STRANGLES THE LIGHT. THE GREEN LIGHT WANES TO

MAUVE. THE GASJET WAILS WHISTLING.)
THE GASJET: Pooah! Pfuiiiiiii!
(ZOE RUNS TO THE CHANDELIER AND, CROOKING HER LEG, ADJUSTS THE MANTLE.)
ZOE: Who has a fag as I'm here?
LYNCH: (TOSSING A CIGARETTE ON TO THE TABLE) Here.
ZOE: (HER HEAD PERCHED ASIDE IN MOCK PRIDE) Is that the way to hand the

POT to a lady? (SHE STRETCHES UP TO LIGHT THE CIGARETTE OVER THE FLAME,

TWIRLING IT SLOWLY, SHOWING THE BROWN TUFTS OF HER ARMPITS. LYNCH WITH

HIS POKER LIFTS BOLDLY A SIDE OF HER SLIP. BARE FROM HER GARTERS UP HER

FLESH APPEARS UNDER THE SAPPHIRE A NIXIE'S GREEN. SHE PUFFS CALMLY AT HER

CIGARETTE.) Can you see the beautyspot of my behind?
LYNCH: I'm not looking
ZOE: (MAKES SHEEP'S EYES) No? You wouldn't do a less thing. Would you

suck a lemon?
(SQUINTING IN MOCK SHAME SHE GLANCES WITH SIDELONG MEANING AT BLOOM, THEN

TWISTS ROUND TOWARDS HIM, PULLING HER SLIP FREE OF THE POKER. BLUE FLUID

AGAIN FLOWS OVER HER FLESH. BLOOM STANDS, SMILING DESIROUSLY, TWIRLING

HIS THUMBS. KITTY RICKETTS LICKS HER MIDDLE FINGER WITH HER SPITTLE AND,

GAZING IN THE MIRROR, SMOOTHS BOTH EYEBROWS. LIPOTI VIRAG,

BASILICOGRAMMATE, CHUTES RAPIDLY DOWN THROUGH THE CHIMNEYFLUE AND STRUTS

TWO STEPS TO THE LEFT ON GAWKY PINK STILTS. HE IS SAUSAGED INTO SEVERAL

OVERCOATS AND WEARS A BROWN MACINTOSH UNDER WHICH HE HOLDS A ROLL OF

PARCHMENT. IN HIS LEFT EYE FLASHES THE MONOCLE OF CASHEL BOYLE O'CONNOR

FITZMAURICE TISDALL FARRELL. ON HIS HEAD IS PERCHED AN EGYPTIAN PSHENT.

TWO QUILLS PROJECT OVER HIS EARS.)
VIRAG: (HEELS TOGETHER, BOWS) My name is Virag Lipoti, of Szombathely.

(HE COUGHS THOUGHTFULLY, DRILY) Promiscuous nakedness is much in evidence

hereabouts, eh? Inadvertently her backview revealed the fact that she is

not wearing those rather intimate garments of which you are a particular

devotee. The injection mark on the thigh I hope you perceived? Good.
BLOOM: Granpapachi. But ...
VIRAG: Number two on the other hand, she of the cherry rouge and

coiffeuse white, whose hair owes not a little to our tribal elixir of

gopherwood, is in walking costume and tightly staysed by her sit, I

should opine. Backbone in front, so to say. Correct me but I always

understood that the act so performed by skittish humans with glimpses of

lingerie appealed to you in virtue of its exhibitionististicicity. In a

word. Hippogriff. Am I right?
BLOOM: She is rather lean.
VIRAG: (NOT UNPLEASANTLY) Absolutely! Well observed and those pannier

pockets of the skirt and slightly pegtop effect are devised to suggest

bunchiness of hip. A new purchase at some monster sale for which a gull

has been mulcted. Meretricious finery to deceive the eye. Observe the

attention to details of dustspecks. Never put on you tomorrow what you

can wear today. Parallax! (WITH A NERVOUS TWITCH OF HIS HEAD) Did you

hear my brain go snap? Pollysyllabax!
BLOOM: (AN ELBOW RESTING IN A HAND, A FOREFINGER AGAINST HIS CHEEK) She

seems sad.
VIRAG: (CYNICALLY, HIS WEASEL TEETH BARED YELLOW, DRAWS DOWN HIS LEFT EYE

WITH A FINGER AND BARKS HOARSELY) Hoax! Beware of the flapper and bogus

mournful. Lily of the alley. All possess bachelor's button discovered by

Rualdus Columbus. Tumble her. Columble her. Chameleon. (MORE GENIALLY)

Well then, permit me to draw your attention to item number three. There

is plenty of her visible to the naked eye. Observe the mass of oxygenated

vegetable matter on her skull. What ho, she bumps! The ugly duckling of

the party, longcasted and deep in keel.
BLOOM: (REGRETFULLY) When you come out without your gun.
VIRAG: We can do you all brands, mild, medium and strong. Pay your money,

take your choice. How happy could you be with either ...
BLOOM: With ...?
VIRAG: (HIS TONGUE UPCURLING) Lyum! Look. Her beam is broad. She is

coated with quite a considerable layer of fat. Obviously mammal in weight

of bosom you remark that she has in front well to the fore two

protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the

noonday soupplate, while on her rere lower down are two additional

protuberances, suggestive of potent rectum and tumescent for palpation,

which leave nothing to be desired save compactness. Such fleshy parts are

the product of careful nurture. When coopfattened their livers reach an

elephantine size. Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and gumbenjamin

swamped down by potions of green tea endow them during their brief

existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. That suits

your book, eh? Fleshhotpots of Egypt to hanker after. Wallow in it.

Lycopodium. (HIS THROAT TWITCHES) Slapbang! There he goes again.
BLOOM: The stye I dislike.
VIRAG: (ARCHES HIS EYEBROWS) Contact with a goldring, they say.

ARGUMENTUM AD FEMINAM, as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece in the

consulship of Diplodocus and Ichthyosauros. For the rest Eve's sovereign

remedy. Not for sale. Hire only. Huguenot. (HE TWITCHES) It is a funny

sound. (HE COUGHS ENCOURAGINGLY) But possibly it is only a wart. I

presume you shall have remembered what I will have taught you on that

head? Wheatenmeal with honey and nutmeg.
BLOOM: (REFLECTING) Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax. This

searching ordeal. It has been an unusually fatiguing day, a chapter of

accidents. Wait. I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you said ...
VIRAG: (SEVERELY, HIS NOSE HARDHUMPED, HIS SIDE EYE WINKING) Stop

twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk. See, you have forgotten.

Exercise your mnemotechnic. LA CAUSA E SANTA. Tara. Tara. (ASIDE) He will

surely remember.
BLOOM: Rosemary also did I understand you to say or willpower over

parasitic tissues. Then nay no I have an inkling. The touch of a deadhand

cures. Mnemo?
VIRAG: (EXCITEDLY) I say so. I say so. E'en so. Technic. (HE TAPS HIS

PARCHMENTROLL ENERGETICALLY) This book tells you how to act with all

descriptive particulars. Consult index for agitated fear of aconite,

melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla. Virag is going to talk about

amputation. Our old friend caustic. They must be starved. Snip off with

horsehair under the denned neck. But, to change the venue to the Bulgar

and the Basque, have you made up your mind whether you like or dislike

women in male habiliments? (WITH A DRY SNIGGER) You intended to devote an

entire year to the study of the religious problem and the summer months

of 1886 to square the circle and win that million. Pomegranate! From the

sublime to the ridiculous is but a step. Pyjamas, let us say? Or

stockingette gussetted knickers, closed? Or, put we the case, those

complicated combinations, camiknickers? (HE CROWS DERISIVELY)

Keekeereekee!
(BLOOM SURVEYS UNCERTAINLY THE THREE WHORES THEN GAZES AT THE VEILED

MAUVE LIGHT, HEARING THE EVERFLYING MOTH.)
BLOOM: I wanted then to have now concluded. Nightdress was never. Hence

this. But tomorrow is a new day will be. Past was is today. What now is

will then morrow as now was be past yester.
VIRAG: (PROMPTS IN A PIG'S WHISPER) Insects of the day spend their brief

existence in reiterated coition, lured by the smell of the inferiorly

pulchritudinous fumale possessing extendified pudendal nerve in dorsal

region. Pretty Poll! (HIS YELLOW PARROTBEAK GABBLES NASALLY) They had a

proverb in the Carpathians in or about the year five thousand five

hundred and fifty of our era. One tablespoonful of honey will attract

friend Bruin more than half a dozen barrels of first choice malt vinegar.

Bear's buzz bothers bees. But of this apart. At another time we may

resume. We were very pleased, we others. (HE COUGHS AND, BENDING HIS

BROW, RUBS HIS NOSE THOUGHTFULLY WITH A SCOOPING HAND) You shall find

that these night insects follow the light. An illusion for remember their

complex unadjustable eye. For all these knotty points see the seventeenth

book of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L.B.

says is the book sensation of the year. Some, to example, there are again

whose movements are automatic. Perceive. That is his appropriate sun.

Nightbird nightsun nighttown. Chase me, Charley! (he blows into Bloom's

ear) Buzz!
BLOOM: Bee or bluebottle too other day butting shadow on wall dazed self

then me wandered dazed down shirt good job I ...
VIRAG: (HIS FACE IMPASSIVE, LAUGHS IN A RICH FEMININE KEY) Splendid!

Spanish fly in his fly or mustard plaster on his dibble. (HE GOBBLES

GLUTTONOUSLY WITH TURKEY WATTLES) Bubbly jock! Bubbly jock! Where are we?

Open Sesame! Cometh forth! (HE UNROLLS HIS PARCHMENT RAPIDLY AND READS,

HIS GLOWWORM'S NOSE RUNNING BACKWARDS OVER THE LETTERS WHICH HE CLAWS)

Stay, good friend. I bring thee thy answer. Redbank oysters will shortly

be upon us. I'm the best o'cook. Those succulent bivalves may help us and

the truffles of Perigord, tubers dislodged through mister omnivorous

porker, were unsurpassed in cases of nervous debility or viragitis.

Though they stink yet they sting. (HE WAGS HIS HEAD WITH CACKLING

RAILLERY) Jocular. With my eyeglass in my ocular. (HE SNEEZES) Amen!
BLOOM: (ABSENTLY) Ocularly woman's bivalve case is worse. Always open

sesame. The cloven sex. Why they fear vermin, creeping things. Yet Eve

and the serpent contradicts. Not a historical fact. Obvious analogy to my

idea. Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. Wind their way through

miles of omnivorous forest to sucksucculent her breast dry. Like those

bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in Elephantuliasis.
VIRAG: (HIS MOUTH PROJECTED IN HARD WRINKLES, EYES STONILY FORLORNLY

CLOSED, PSALMS IN OUTLANDISH MONOTONE) That the cows with their those

distended udders that they have been the the known ...
BLOOM: I am going to scream. I beg your pardon. Ah? So. (HE REPEATS)

Spontaneously to seek out the saurian's lair in order to entrust their

teats to his avid suction. Ant milks aphis. (PROFOUNDLY) Instinct rules

the world. In life. In death.
VIRAG: (HEAD ASKEW, ARCHES HIS BACK AND HUNCHED WINGSHOULDERS, PEERS AT

THE MOTH OUT OF BLEAR BULGED EYES, POINTS A HORNING CLAW AND CRIES) Who's

moth moth? Who's dear Gerald? Dear Ger, that you? O dear, he is Gerald.

O, I much fear he shall be most badly burned. Will some pleashe pershon

not now impediment so catastrophics mit agitation of firstclass

tablenumpkin? (HE MEWS) Puss puss puss puss! (HE SIGHS, DRAWS BACK AND

STARES SIDEWAYS DOWN WITH DROPPING UNDERJAW) Well, well. He doth rest

anon. (he snaps his jaws suddenly on the air)
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 kind of thing

On the wing, on the wing!

Bing!

(HE RUSHES AGAINST THE MAUVE SHADE, FLAPPING NOISILY) Pretty pretty

pretty pretty pretty pretty petticoats.
(FROM LEFT UPPER ENTRANCE WITH TWO GLIDING STEPS HENRY FLOWER COMES

FORWARD TO LEFT FRONT CENTRE. HE WEARS A DARK MANTLE AND DROOPING PLUMED

SOMBRERO. HE CARRIES A SILVERSTRINGED INLAID DULCIMER AND A LONGSTEMMED

BAMBOO JACOB'S PIPE, ITS CLAY BOWL FASHIONED AS A FEMALE HEAD. HE WEARS

DARK VELVET HOSE AND SILVERBUCKLED PUMPS. HE HAS THE ROMANTIC SAVIOUR'S

FACE WITH FLOWING LOCKS, THIN BEARD AND MOUSTACHE. HIS SPINDLELEGS AND

SPARROW FEET ARE THOSE OF THE TENOR MARIO, PRINCE OF CANDIA. HE SETTLES

DOWN HIS GOFFERED RUFFS AND MOISTENS HIS LIPS WITH A PASSAGE OF HIS

AMOROUS TONGUE.)
HENRY: (IN A LOW DULCET VOICE, TOUCHING THE STRINGS OF HIS GUITAR) There

is a flower that bloometh.
(VIRAG TRUCULENT, HIS JOWL SET, STARES AT THE LAMP. GRAVE BLOOM REGARDS

ZOE'S NECK. HENRY GALLANT TURNS WITH PENDANT DEWLAP TO THE PIANO.)
STEPHEN: (TO HIMSELF) Play with your eyes shut. Imitate pa. Filling my

belly with husks of swine. Too much of this. I will arise and go to my.

Expect this is the. Steve, thou art in a parlous way. Must visit old

Deasy or telegraph. Our interview of this morning has left on me a deep

impression. Though our ages. Will write fully tomorrow. I'm partially

drunk, by the way. (HE TOUCHES THE KEYS AGAIN) Minor chord comes now.

Yes. Not much however.
(ALMIDANO ARTIFONI HOLDS OUT A BATONROLL OF MUSIC WITH VIGOROUS

MOUSTACHEWORK.)
ARTIFONI: CI RIFLETTA. LEI ROVINA TUTTO.
FLORRY: Sing us something. Love's old sweet song.
STEPHEN: No voice. I am a most finished artist. Lynch, did I show you the

letter about the lute?
FLORRY: (SMIRKING) The bird that can sing and won't sing.
(THE SIAMESE TWINS, PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER, TWO OXFORD DONS WITH

LAWNMOWERS, APPEAR IN THE WINDOW EMBRASURE. BOTH ARE MASKED WITH MATTHEW

ARNOLD'S FACE.)
PHILIP SOBER: Take a fool's advice. All is not well. Work it out with the

buttend of a pencil, like a good young idiot. Three pounds twelve you

got, two notes, one sovereign, two crowns, if youth but knew. Mooney's en

ville, Mooney's sur mer, the Moira, Larchet's, Holles street hospital,

Burke's. Eh? I am watching you.
PHILIP DRUNK: (IMPATIENTLY) Ah, bosh, man. Go to hell! I paid my way. If

I could only find out about octaves. Reduplication of personality. Who

was it told me his name? (HIS LAWNMOWER BEGINS TO PURR) Aha, yes. ZOE MOU

SAS AGAPO. Have a notion I was here before. When was it not Atkinson his

card I have somewhere. Mac Somebody. Unmack I have it. He told me about,

hold on, Swinburne, was it, no?
FLORRY: And the song?
STEPHEN: Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.
FLORRY: Are you out of Maynooth? You're like someone I knew once.
STEPHEN: Out of it now. (TO HIMSELF) Clever.
PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER: (THEIR LAWNMOWERS PURRING WITH A RIGADOON

OF GRASSHALMS) Clever ever. Out of it out of it. By the bye have you the

book, the thing, the ashplant? Yes, there it, yes. Cleverever outofitnow.

Keep in condition. Do like us.
ZOE: There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of

business with his coat buttoned up. You needn't try to hide, I says to

him. I know you've a Roman collar.
VIRAG: Perfectly logical from his standpoint. Fall of man. (HARSHLY, HIS

PUPILS WAXING) To hell with the pope! Nothing new under the sun. I am the

Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens. Why I left the

church of Rome. Read the Priest, the Woman and the Confessional. Penrose.

Flipperty Jippert. (HE WRIGGLES) Woman, undoing with sweet pudor her belt

of rushrope, offers her allmoist yoni to man's lingam. Short time after

man presents woman with pieces of jungle meat. Woman shows joy and covers

herself with featherskins. Man loves her yoni fiercely with big lingam,

the stiff one. (HE CRIES) COACTUS VOLUI. Then giddy woman will run about.

Strong man grapses woman's wrist. Woman squeals, bites, spucks. Man, now

fierce angry, strikes woman's fat yadgana. (HE CHASES HIS TAIL) Piffpaff!

Popo! (HE STOPS, SNEEZES) Pchp! (HE WORRIES HIS BUTT) Prrrrrht!
LYNCH: I hope you gave the good father a penance. Nine glorias for

shooting a bishop.
ZOE: (SPOUTS WALRUS SMOKE THROUGH HER NOSTRILS) He couldn't get a

connection. Only, you know, sensation. A dry rush.
BLOOM: Poor man!
ZOE: (LIGHTLY) Only for what happened him.
BLOOM: How?
VIRAG: (A DIABOLIC RICTUS OF BLACK LUMINOSITY CONTRACTING HIS VISAGE,

CRANES HIS SCRAGGY NECK FORWARD. HE LIFTS A MOONCALF NOZZLE AND HOWLS.)

VERFLUCHTE GOIM! He had a father, forty fathers. He never existed. Pig

God! He had two left feet. He was Judas Iacchia, a Libyan eunuch, the

pope's bastard. (HE LEANS OUT ON TORTURED FOREPAWS, ELBOWS BENT RIGID,

HIS EYE AGONISING IN HIS FLAT SKULLNECK AND YELPS OVER THE MUTE WORLD) A

son of a whore. Apocalypse.
KITTY: And Mary Shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from

Jimmy Pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow

and was smothered with the convulsions in the mattress and we all

subscribed for the funeral.
PHILIP DRUNK: (GRAVELY) QUI VOUS A MIS DANS CETTE FICHUE POSITION,

PHILIPPE?
PHILIP SOBER: (GAILY) C'ETAIT LE SACRE PIGEON, PHILIPPE.
(KITTY UNPINS HER HAT AND SETS IT DOWN CALMLY, PATTING HER HENNA HAIR.

AND A PRETTIER, A DAINTIER HEAD OF WINSOME CURLS WAS NEVER SEEN ON A

WHORE'S SHOULDERS. LYNCH PUTS ON HER HAT. SHE WHIPS IT OFF.)
LYNCH: (LAUGHS) And to such delights has Metchnikoff inoculated

anthropoid apes.
FLORRY: (NODS) Locomotor ataxy.
ZOE: (GAILY) O, my dictionary.
LYNCH: Three wise virgins.
VIRAG: (AGUESHAKEN, PROFUSE YELLOW SPAWN FOAMING OVER HIS BONY EPILEPTIC

LIPS) She sold lovephiltres, whitewax, orangeflower. Panther, the Roman

centurion, polluted her with his genitories. (HE STICKS OUT A FLICKERING

PHOSPHORESCENT SCORPION TONGUE, HIS HAND ON HIS FORK) Messiah! He burst

her tympanum. (WITH GIBBERING BABOON'S CRIES HE JERKS HIS HIPS IN THE

CYNICAL SPASM) Hik! Hek! Hak! Hok! Huk! Kok! Kuk!
(BEN JUMBO DOLLARD, RUBICUND, MUSCLEBOUND, HAIRYNOSTRILLED, HUGEBEARDED,

CABBAGEEARED, SHAGGYCHESTED, SHOCKMANED, FAT- PAPPED, STANDS FORTH, HIS

LOINS AND GENITALS TIGHTENED INTO A PAIR OF BLACK BATHING BAGSLOPS.)
BEN DOLLARD: (NAKKERING CASTANET BONES IN HIS HUGE PADDED PAWS, YODELS

JOVIALLY IN BASE BARRELTONE) When love absorbs my ardent soul.
(THE VIRGINS NURSE CALLAN AND NURSE QUIGLEY BURST THROUGH THE RINGKEEPERS

AND THE ROPES AND MOB HIM WITH OPEN ARMS.)
THE VIRGINS: (GUSHINGLY) Big Ben! Ben my Chree!
A VOICE: Hold that fellow with the bad breeches.
BEN DOLLARD: (SMITES HIS THIGH IN ABUNDANT LAUGHTER) Hold him now.
HENRY: (CARESSING ON HIS BREAST A SEVERED FEMALE HEAD, MURMURS) Thine

heart, mine love. (HE PLUCKS HIS LUTESTRINGS) When first I saw ...
VIRAG: (SLOUGHING HIS SKINS, HIS MULTITUDINOUS PLUMAGE MOULTING) Rats!

(HE YAWNS, SHOWING A COALBLACK THROAT, AND CLOSES HIS JAWS BY AN UPWARD

PUSH OF HIS PARCHMENTROLL) After having said which I took my departure.

Farewell. Fare thee well. DRECK!
(HENRY FLOWER COMBS HIS MOUSTACHE AND BEARD RAPIDLY WITH A POCKETCOMB AND

GIVES A COW'S LICK TO HIS HAIR. STEERED BY HIS RAPIER, HE GLIDES TO THE

DOOR, HIS WILD HARP SLUNG BEHIND HIM. VIRAG REACHES THE DOOR IN TWO

UNGAINLY STILTHOPS, HIS TAIL COCKED, AND DEFTLY CLAPS SIDEWAYS ON THE

WALL A PUSYELLOW FLYBILL, BUTTING IT WITH HIS HEAD.)
THE FLYBILL: K. II. Post No Bills. Strictly confidential. Dr Hy Franks.
HENRY: All is lost now.
(VIRAG UNSCREWS HIS HEAD IN A TRICE AND HOLDS IT UNDER HIS ARM.)
VIRAG'S HEAD: Quack!
(EXEUNT SEVERALLY.)
STEPHEN: (OVER HIS SHOULDER TO ZOE) You would have preferred the fighting

parson who founded the protestant error. But beware Antisthenes, the dog

sage, and the last end of Arius Heresiarchus. The agony in the closet.
LYNCH: All one and the same God to her.
STEPHEN: (DEVOUTLY) And sovereign Lord of all things.
FLORRY: (TO STEPHEN) I'm sure you're a spoiled priest. Or a monk.
LYNCH: He is. A cardinal's son.
STEPHEN: Cardinal sin. Monks of the screw.
(HIS EMINENCE SIMON STEPHEN CARDINAL DEDALUS, PRIMATE OF ALL IRELAND,

APPEARS IN THE DOORWAY, DRESSED IN RED SOUTANE, SANDALS AND SOCKS. SEVEN

DWARF SIMIAN ACOLYTES, ALSO IN RED, CARDINAL SINS, UPHOLD HIS TRAIN,

PEEPING UNDER IT. HE WEARS A BATTERED SILK HAT SIDEWAYS ON HIS HEAD. HIS

THUMBS ARE STUCK IN HIS ARMPITS AND HIS PALMS OUTSPREAD. ROUND HIS NECK

HANGS A ROSARY OF CORKS ENDING ON HIS BREAST IN A CORKSCREW CROSS.

RELEASING HIS THUMBS, HE INVOKES GRACE FROM ON HIGH WITH LARGE WAVE

GESTURES AND PROCLAIMS WITH BLOATED POMP:)
THE CARDINAL:

Conservio lies captured

He lies in the lowest dungeon

With manacles and chains around his limbs

Weighing upwards of three tons.

(HE LOOKS AT ALL FOR A MOMENT, HIS RIGHT EYE CLOSED TIGHT, HIS LEFT CHEEK

PUFFED OUT. THEN, UNABLE TO REPRESS HIS MERRIMENT, HE ROCKS TO AND FRO,

ARMS AKIMBO, AND SINGS WITH BROAD ROLLICKING HUMOUR:)

O, the poor little fellow

Hihihihihis legs they were yellow

He was plump, fat and heavy and brisk as a snake

But some bloody savage

To graize his white cabbage

He murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake.

(A MULTITUDE OF MIDGES SWARMS WHITE OVER HIS ROBE. HE SCRATCHES HIMSELF

WITH CROSSED ARMS AT HIS RIBS, GRIMACING, AND EXCLAIMS:)
I'm suffering the agony of the damned. By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to

Jesus those funny little chaps are not unanimous. If they were they'd

walk me off the face of the bloody globe.
(HIS HEAD ASLANT HE BLESSES CURTLY WITH FORE AND MIDDLE FINGERS, IMPARTS

THE EASTER KISS AND DOUBLESHUFFLES OFF COMICALLY, SWAYING HIS HAT FROM

SIDE TO SIDE, SHRINKING QUICKLY TO THE SIZE OF HIS TRAINBEARERS. THE

DWARF ACOLYTES, GIGGLING, PEEPING, NUDGING, OGLING, EASTERKISSING, ZIGZAG

BEHIND HIM. HIS VOICE IS HEARD MELLOW FROM AFAR, MERCIFUL MALE,

MELODIOUS:)

Shall carry my heart to thee,

Shall carry my heart to thee,

And the breath of the balmy night

Shall carry my heart to thee!

(THE TRICK DOORHANDLE TURNS.)
THE DOORHANDLE: Theeee!
ZOE: The devil is in that door.
(A MALE FORM PASSES DOWN THE CREAKING STAIRCASE AND IS HEARD TAKING THE

WATERPROOF AND HAT FROM THE RACK. BLOOM STARTS FORWARD INVOLUNTARILY AND,

HALF CLOSING THE DOOR AS HE PASSES, TAKES THE CHOCOLATE FROM HIS POCKET

AND OFFERS IT NERVOUSLY TO ZOE.)
ZOE: (SNIFFS HIS HAIR BRISKLY) Hmmm! Thank your mother for the rabbits.

I'm very fond of what I like.
BLOOM: (HEARING A MALE VOICE IN TALK WITH THE WHORES ON THE DOORSTEP,

PRICKS HIS EARS) If it were he? After? Or because not? Or the double

event?
ZOE: (TEARS OPEN THE SILVERFOIL) Fingers was made before forks. (SHE

BREAKS OFF AND NIBBLES A PIECE GIVES A PIECE TO KITTY RICKETTS AND THEN

TURNS KITTENISHLY TO LYNCH) No objection to French lozenges? (HE NODS.

SHE TAUNTS HIM.) Have it now or wait till you get it? (HE OPENS HIS

MOUTH, HIS HEAD COCKED. SHE WHIRLS THE PRIZE IN LEFT CIRCLE. HIS HEAD

FOLLOWS. SHE WHIRLS IT BACK IN RIGHT CIRCLE. HE EYES HER.) Catch!
(SHE TOSSES A PIECE. WITH AN ADROIT SNAP HE CATCHES IT AND BITES IT

THROUGH WITH A CRACK.)
KITTY: (CHEWING) The engineer I was with at the bazaar does have lovely

ones. Full of the best liqueurs. And the viceroy was there with his lady.

The gas we had on the Toft's hobbyhorses. I'm giddy still.
BLOOM: (IN SVENGALI'S FUR OVERCOAT, WITH FOLDED ARMS AND NAPOLEONIC

FORELOCK, FROWNS IN VENTRILOQUIAL EXORCISM WITH PIERCING EAGLE GLANCE

TOWARDS THE DOOR. THEN RIGID WITH LEFT FOOT ADVANCED HE MAKES A SWIFT

PASS WITH IMPELLING FINGERS AND GIVES THE SIGN OF PAST MASTER, DRAWING

HIS RIGHT ARM DOWNWARDS FROM HIS LEFT SHOULDER.) Go, go, go, I conjure

you, whoever you are!
(A MALE COUGH AND TREAD ARE HEARD PASSING THROUGH THE MIST OUTSIDE.

BLOOM'S FEATURES RELAX. HE PLACES A HAND IN HIS WAISTCOAT, POSING CALMLY.

ZOE OFFERS HIM CHOCOLATE.)
BLOOM: (SOLEMNLY) Thanks.
ZOE: Do as you're bid. Here!
(A FIRM HEELCLACKING TREAD IS HEARD ON THE STAIRS.)
BLOOM: (TAKES THE CHOCOLATE) Aphrodisiac? Tansy and pennyroyal. But I

bought it. Vanilla calms or? Mnemo. Confused light confuses memory. Red

influences lupus. Colours affect women's characters, any they have. This

black makes me sad. Eat and be merry for tomorrow. (HE EATS) Influence

taste too, mauve. But it is so long since I. Seems new. Aphro. That

priest. Must come. Better late than never. Try truffles at Andrews.


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