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


The fantasy involving Bella/Bello gives way to the climactic fantasy involving the Nymph from his bedroom



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The fantasy involving Bella/Bello gives way to the climactic fantasy involving the Nymph from his bedroom:
(FROM THE SUTTEE PYRE THE FLAME OF GUM CAMPHIRE ASCENDS. THE PALL OF

INCENSE SMOKE SCREENS AND DISPERSES. OUT OF HER OAKFRAME A NYMPH WITH

HAIR UNBOUND, LIGHTLY CLAD IN TEABROWN ARTCOLOURS, DESCENDS FROM HER

GROTTO AND PASSING UNDER INTERLACING YEWS STANDS OVER BLOOM.)
THE YEWS: (THEIR LEAVES WHISPERING) Sister. Our sister. Ssh!
THE NYMPH: (SOFTLY) Mortal! (KINDLY) Nay, dost not weepest!
BLOOM: (CRAWLS JELLILY FORWARD UNDER THE BOUGHS, STREAKED BY SUNLIGHT,

WITH DIGNITY) This position. I felt it was expected of me. Force of

habit.
THE NYMPH: Mortal! You found me in evil company, highkickers, coster

picnicmakers, pugilists, popular generals, immoral panto boys in

fleshtights and the nifty shimmy dancers, La Aurora and Karini, musical

act, the hit of the century. I was hidden in cheap pink paper that smelt

of rock oil. I was surrounded by the stale smut of clubmen, stories to

disturb callow youth, ads for transparencies, truedup dice and bustpads,

proprietary articles and why wear a truss with testimonial from ruptured

gentleman. Useful hints to the married.
BLOOM: (LIFTS A TURTLE HEAD TOWARDS HER LAP) We have met before. On

another star.
THE NYMPH: (SADLY) Rubber goods. Neverrip brand as supplied to the

aristocracy. Corsets for men. I cure fits or money refunded. Unsolicited

testimonials for Professor Waldmann's wonderful chest exuber. My bust

developed four inches in three weeks, reports Mrs Gus Rublin with photo.
BLOOM: You mean PHOTO BITS?
THE NYMPH: I do. You bore me away, framed me in oak and tinsel, set me

above your marriage couch. Unseen, one summer eve, you kissed me in four

places. And with loving pencil you shaded my eyes, my bosom and my shame.
BLOOM: (HUMBLY KISSES HER LONG HAIR) Your classic curves, beautiful

immortal, I was glad to look on you, to praise you, a thing of beauty,

almost to pray.
THE NYMPH: During dark nights I heard your praise.
BLOOM: (QUICKLY) Yes, yes. You mean that I ... Sleep reveals the worst

side of everyone, children perhaps excepted. I know I fell out of bed or

rather was pushed. Steel wine is said to cure snoring. For the rest there

is that English invention, pamphlet of which I received some days ago,

incorrectly addressed. It claims to afford a noiseless, inoffensive vent.

(HE SIGHS) 'Twas ever thus. Frailty, thy name is marriage.
THE NYMPH: (HER FINGERS IN HER EARS) And words. They are not in my

dictionary.
BLOOM: You understood them?
THE YEWS: Ssh!
THE NYMPH: (COVERS HER FACE WITH HER HANDS) What have I not seen in that

chamber? What must my eyes look down on?
BLOOM: (APOLOGETICALLY) I know. Soiled personal linen, wrong side up with

care. The quoits are loose. From Gibraltar by long sea long ago.
THE NYMPH: (BENDS HER HEAD) Worse, worse!
BLOOM: (REFLECTS PRECAUTIOUSLY) That antiquated commode. It wasn't her

weight. She scaled just eleven stone nine. She put on nine pounds after

weaning. It was a crack and want of glue. Eh? And that absurd orangekeyed

utensil which has only one handle.
(THE SOUND OF A WATERFALL IS HEARD IN BRIGHT CASCADE.)
THE WATERFALL:

Poulaphouca Poulaphouca

Poulaphouca Poulaphouca.

THE YEWS: (MINGLING THEIR BOUGHS) Listen. Whisper. She is right, our

sister. We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall. We gave shade on languorous

summer days.
JOHN WYSE NOLAN: (IN THE BACKGROUND, IN IRISH NATIONAL FORESTER'S

UNIFORM, DOFFS HIS PLUMED HAT) Prosper! Give shade on languorous days,

trees of Ireland!
THE YEWS: (MURMURING) Who came to Poulaphouca with the High School

excursion? Who left his nutquesting classmates to seek our shade?
BLOOM: (SCARED) High School of Poula? Mnemo? Not in full possession of

faculties. Concussion. Run over by tram.
THE ECHO: Sham!
BLOOM: (PIGEONBREASTED, BOTTLESHOULDERED, PADDED, IN NONDESCRIPT JUVENILE

GREY AND BLACK STRIPED SUIT, TOO SMALL FOR HIM, WHITE TENNIS SHOES,

BORDERED STOCKINGS WITH TURNOVER TOPS AND A RED SCHOOLCAP WITH BADGE) I

was in my teens, a growing boy. A little then sufficed, a jolting car,

the mingling odours of the ladies' cloakroom and lavatory, the throng

penned tight on the old Royal stairs (for they love crushes, instinct of

the herd, and the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice), even a

pricelist of their hosiery. And then the heat. There were sunspots that

summer. End of school. And tipsycake. Halcyon days.
(HALCYON DAYS, HIGH SCHOOL BOYS IN BLUE AND WHITE FOOTBALL JERSEYS AND

SHORTS, MASTER DONALD TURNBULL, MASTER ABRAHAM CHATTERTON, MASTER OWEN

GOLDBERG, MASTER JACK MEREDITH, MASTER PERCY APJOHN, STAND IN A CLEARING

OF THE TREES AND SHOUT TO MASTER LEOPOLD BLOOM.)
THE HALCYON DAYS: Mackerel! Live us again. Hurray! (THEY CHEER)
BLOOM: (HOBBLEDEHOY, WARMGLOVED, MAMMAMUFFLERED, STARRED WITH SPENT

SNOWBALLS, STRUGGLES TO RISE) Again! I feel sixteen! What a lark! Let's

ring all the bells in Montague street. (HE CHEERS FEEBLY) Hurray for the

High School!
THE ECHO: Fool!
THE YEWS: (RUSTLING) She is right, our sister. Whisper. (WHISPERED KISSES

ARE HEARD IN ALL THE WOOD. FACES OF HAMADRYADS PEEP OUT FROM THE BOLES

AND AMONG THE LEAVES AND BREAK, BLOSSOMING INTO BLOOM.) Who profaned our

silent shade?
THE NYMPH: (COYLY, THROUGH PARTING FINGERS) There? In the open air?
THE YEWS: (SWEEPING DOWNWARD) Sister, yes. And on our virgin sward.
THE WATERFALL:
Poulaphouca Poulaphouca

Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca.
THE NYMPH: (WITH WIDE FINGERS) O, infamy!
BLOOM: I was precocious. Youth. The fauna. I sacrificed to the god of the

forest. The flowers that bloom in the spring. It was pairing time.

Capillary attraction is a natural phenomenon. Lotty Clarke, flaxenhaired,

I saw at her night toilette through illclosed curtains with poor papa's

operaglasses: The wanton ate grass wildly. She rolled downhill at Rialto

bridge to tempt me with her flow of animal spirits. She climbed their

crooked tree and I ... A saint couldn't resist it. The demon possessed

me. Besides, who saw?
(STAGGERING BOB, A WHITEPOLLED CALF, THRUSTS A RUMINATING HEAD WITH HUMID

NOSTRILS THROUGH THE FOLIAGE.)
STAGGERING BOB: (LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES,

SNIVELS) Me. Me see.
BLOOM: Simply satisfying a need I ... (WITH PATHOS) No girl would when I

went girling. Too ugly. They wouldn't play ...
(HIGH ON BEN HOWTH THROUGH RHODODENDRONS A NANNYGOAT PASSES,

PLUMPUDDERED, BUTTYTAILED, DROPPING CURRANTS.)
THE NANNYGOAT: (BLEATS) Megeggaggegg! Nannannanny!
BLOOM: (HATLESS, FLUSHED, COVERED WITH BURRS OF THISTLEDOWN AND

GORSESPINE) Regularly engaged. Circumstances alter cases. (HE GAZES

INTENTLY DOWNWARDS ON THE WATER) Thirtytwo head over heels per second.

Press nightmare. Giddy Elijah. Fall from cliff. Sad end of government

printer's clerk. (THROUGH SILVERSILENT SUMMER AIR THE DUMMY OF BLOOM,

ROLLED IN A MUMMY, ROLLS ROTEATINGLY FROM THE LION'S HEAD CLIFF INTO THE

PURPLE WAITING WATERS.)
THE DUMMYMUMMY: Bbbbblllllblblblblobschbg!
(FAR OUT IN THE BAY BETWEEN BAILEY AND KISH LIGHTS THE Erin's King SAILS,

SENDING A BROADENING PLUME OF COALSMOKE FROM HER FUNNEL TOWARDS THE

LAND.)
COUNCILLOR NANNETII: (ALONE ON DECK, IN DARK ALPACA, YELLOWKITEFACED, HIS

HAND IN HIS WAISTCOAT OPENING, DECLAIMS) When my country takes her place

among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph

be written. I have ...
BLOOM: Done. Prff!
THE NYMPH: (LOFTILY) We immortals, as you saw today, have not such a

place and no hair there either. We are stonecold and pure. We eat

electric light. (SHE ARCHES HER BODY IN LASCIVIOUS CRISPATION, PLACING

HER FOREFINGER IN HER MOUTH) Spoke to me. Heard from behind. How then

could you ...?
BLOOM: (PAWING THE HEATHER ABJECTLY) O, I have been a perfect pig. Enemas

too I have administered. One third of a pint of quassia to which add a

tablespoonful of rocksalt. Up the fundament. With Hamilton Long's

syringe, the ladies' friend.
THE NYMPH: In my presence. The powderpuff. (SHE BLUSHES AND MAKES A KNEE)

And the rest!
BLOOM: (DEJECTED) Yes. PECCAVI! I have paid homage on that living altar

where the back changes name. (WITH SUDDEN FERVOUR) For why should the

dainty scented jewelled hand, the hand that rules ...?
(FIGURES WIND SERPENTING IN SLOW WOODLAND PATTERN AROUND THE TREESTEMS,

COOEEING)
THE VOICE OF KITTY: (IN THE THICKET) Show us one of them cushions.
THE VOICE OF FLORRY: Here.
(A GROUSE WINGS CLUMSILY THROUGH THE UNDERWOOD.)
THE VOICE OF LYNCH: (IN THE THICKET) Whew! Piping hot!
THE VOICE OF ZOE: (FROM THE THICKET) Came from a hot place.
THE VOICE OF VIRAG: (A BIRDCHIEF, BLUESTREAKED AND FEATHERED IN WAR

PANOPLY WITH HIS ASSEGAI, STRIDING THROUGH A CRACKLING CANEBRAKE OVER

BEECHMAST AND ACORNS) Hot! Hot! Ware Sitting Bull!
BLOOM: It overpowers me. The warm impress of her warm form. Even to sit

where a woman has sat, especially with divaricated thighs, as though to

grant the last favours, most especially with previously well uplifted

white sateen coatpans. So womanly, full. It fills me full.
THE WATERFALL:
Phillaphulla Poulaphouca

Poulaphouca Poulaphouca.
THE YEWS: Ssh! Sister, speak!
THE NYMPH: (EYELESS, IN NUN'S WHITE HABIT, COIF AND HUGEWINGED WIMPLE,

SOFTLY, WITH REMOTE EYES) Tranquilla convent. Sister Agatha. Mount

Carmel. The apparitions of Knock and Lourdes. No more desire. (SHE

RECLINES HER HEAD, SIGHING) Only the ethereal. Where dreamy creamy gull

waves o'er the waters dull.
Bloom rejects the implication of the Nymph and “half rises,” breaking the spell:
(BLOOM HALF RISES. HIS BACK TROUSERBUTTON SNAPS.)
THE BUTTON: Bip!
(TWO SLUTS OF THE COOMBE DANCE RAINILY BY, SHAWLED, YELLING FLATLY.)
THE SLUTS:
O, Leopold lost the pin of his drawers

He didn't know what to do,

To keep it up,

To keep it up.
BLOOM: (COLDLY) You have broken the spell. The last straw. If there were

only ethereal where would you all be, postulants and novices? Shy but

willing like an ass pissing.
THE YEWS: (THEIR SILVERFOIL OF LEAVES PRECIPITATING, THEIR SKINNY ARMS

AGING AND SWAYING) Deciduously!
THE NYMPH: (her features hardening, gropes in the folds of her habit)

Sacrilege! To attempt my virtue! (A LARGE MOIST STAIN APPEARS ON HER

ROBE) Sully my innocence! You are not fit to touch the garment of a pure

woman. (SHE CLUTCHES AGAIN IN HER ROBE) Wait. Satan, you'll sing no more

lovesongs. Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen. (SHE DRAWS A PONIARD AND, CLAD IN THE

SHEATHMAIL OF AN ELECTED KNIGHT OF NINE, STRIKES AT HIS LOINS) Nekum!
BLOOM: (STARTS UP, SEIZES HER HAND) Hoy! Nebrakada! Cat o' nine lives!

Fair play, madam. No pruningknife. The fox and the grapes, is it? What do

you lack with your barbed wire? Crucifix not thick enough? (HE CLUTCHES

HER VEIL) A holy abbot you want or Brophy, the lame gardener, or the

spoutless statue of the watercarrier, or good mother Alphonsus, eh

Reynard?
THE NYMPH: (WITH A CRY FLEES FROM HIM UNVEILED, HER PLASTER CAST

CRACKING, A CLOUD OF STENCH ESCAPING FROM THE CRACKS) Poli ...!
BLOOM: (CALLS AFTER HER) As if you didn't get it on the double

yourselves. No jerks and multiple mucosities all over you. I tried it.

Your strength our weakness. What's our studfee? What will you pay on the

nail? You fee mendancers on the Riviera, I read. (THE FLEEING NYMPH

RAISES A KEEN) Eh? I have sixteen years of black slave labour behind me.

And would a jury give me five shillings alimony tomorrow, eh? Fool

someone else, not me. (HE SNIFFS) Rut. Onions. Stale. Sulphur. Grease.
(THE FIGURE OF BELLA COHEN STANDS BEFORE HIM.)
BELLA: You'll know me the next time.
BLOOM: (COMPOSED, REGARDS HER) Passee. Mutton dressed as lamb. Long in

the tooth and superfluous hair. A raw onion the last thing at night would

benefit your complexion. And take some double chin drill. Your eyes are

as vapid as the glasseyes of your stuffed fox. They have the dimensions

of your other features, that's all. I'm not a triple screw propeller.
BELLA: (CONTEMPTUOUSLY) You're not game, in fact. (HER SOWCUNT BARKS)

Fbhracht!
BLOOM: (CONTEMPTUOUSLY) Clean your nailless middle finger first, your

bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb. Take a handful of hay

and wipe yourself.
BELLA: I know you, canvasser! Dead cod!
BLOOM: I saw him, kipkeeper! Pox and gleet vendor!
BELLA: (TURNS TO THE PIANO) Which of you was playing the dead march from

SAUL?
ZOE: Me. Mind your cornflowers. (SHE DARTS TO THE PIANO AND BANGS CHORDS

ON IT WITH CROSSED ARMS) The cat's ramble through the slag. (SHE GLANCES

BACK) Eh? Who's making love to my sweeties? (SHE DARTS BACK TO THE TABLE)

What's yours is mine and what's mine is my own.
(KITTY, DISCONCERTED, COATS HER TEETH WITH THE SILVER PAPER. BLOOM

APPROACHES ZOE.)
BLOOM: (GENTLY) Give me back that potato, will you?
ZOE: Forfeits, a fine thing and a superfine thing.
BLOOM: (WITH FEELING) It is nothing, but still, a relic of poor mamma.
ZOE:
Give a thing and take it back

God'll ask you where is that

You'll say you don't know

God'll send you down below.
BLOOM: There is a memory attached to it. I should like to have it.

Attention shifts to Stephen from whom Bella demands money. Bloom steps in to see Stephen is not cheated and takes charge of his money. Stephen slips into reveries of his childhood, and Father Dolan and Conmee appear in quick succession. Bloom nexts has a fantasy involving Boylan and Molly in which he envisions his own cuckholding but also his role as impotent witness and even facilitator of the event.
Stephen entertains the whores with tales of Paris. His descriptions become more extravagant and produce visions of his father and Mr. Deasy. Zoe suggests a dance, and as Stephen whirls around the room an apparition of his dead mother appears. Shock causes Stephen to strike out at the lamp above his head and run into the street in a panic. Bloom calms Bella, pays for the damage, and follows Stephen outside.
STEPHEN: To have or not to have that is the question.
ZOE: Here. (SHE HAULS UP A REEF OF HER SLIP, REVEALING HER BARE THIGH,

AND UNROLLS THE POTATO FROM THE TOP OF HER STOCKING) Those that hides

knows where to find.
BELLA: (FROWNS) Here. This isn't a musical peepshow. And don't you smash

that piano. Who's paying here?
(SHE GOES TO THE PIANOLA. STEPHEN FUMBLES IN HIS POCKET AND, TAKING OUT A

BANKNOTE BY ITS CORNER, HANDS IT TO HER.)
STEPHEN: (WITH EXAGGERATED POLITENESS) This silken purse I made out of

the sow's ear of the public. Madam, excuse me. If you allow me. (HE

INDICATES VAGUELY LYNCH AND BLOOM) We are all in the same sweepstake,

Kinch and Lynch. DANS CE BORDEL OU TENONS NOSTRE ETAT.
LYNCH: (CALLS FROM THE HEARTH) Dedalus! Give her your blessing for me.
STEPHEN: (HANDS BELLA A COIN) Gold. She has it.
BELLA: (LOOKS AT THE MONEY, THEN AT STEPHEN, THEN AT ZOE, FLORRY AND

KITTY) Do you want three girls? It's ten shillings here.
STEPHEN: (DELIGHTEDLY) A hundred thousand apologies. (HE FUMBLES AGAIN

AND TAKES OUT AND HANDS HER TWO CROWNS) Permit, BREVI MANU, my sight is

somewhat troubled.
(BELLA GOES TO THE TABLE TO COUNT THE MONEY WHILE STEPHEN TALKS TO

HIMSELF IN MONOSYLLABLES. ZOE BENDS OVER THE TABLE. KITTY LEANS OVER

ZOE'S NECK. LYNCH GETS UP, RIGHTS HIS CAP AND, CLASPING KITTY'S WAIST,

ADDS HIS HEAD TO THE GROUP.)
FLORRY: (STRIVES HEAVILY TO RISE) Ow! My foot's asleep. (SHE LIMPS OVER

TO THE TABLE. BLOOM APPROACHES.)
BELLA, ZOE, KITTY, LYNCH, BLOOM: (CHATTERING AND SQUABBLING) The

gentleman ... ten shillings ... paying for the three ... allow me a

moment ... this gentleman pays separate ... who's touching it? ... ow!

... mind who you're pinching ... are you staying the night or a short

time?... who did?... you're a liar, excuse me ... the gentleman paid down

like a gentleman ... drink ... it's long after eleven.
STEPHEN: (AT THE PIANOLA, MAKING A GESTURE OF ABHORRENCE) No bottles!

What, eleven? A riddle!
ZOE: (LIFTING UP HER PETTIGOWN AND FOLDING A HALF SOVEREIGN INTO THE TOP

OF HER STOCKING) Hard earned on the flat of my back.
LYNCH: (LIFTING KITTY FROM THE TABLE) Come!
KITTY: Wait. (SHE CLUTCHES THE TWO CROWNS)
FLORRY: And me?
LYNCH: Hoopla! (HE LIFTS HER, CARRIES HER AND BUMPS HER DOWN ON THE

SOFA.)
STEPHEN:

The fox crew, the cocks flew,

The bells in heaven

Were striking eleven.

'Tis time for her poor soul

To get out of heaven.

BLOOM: (QUIETLY LAYS A HALF SOVEREIGN ON THE TABLE BETWEEN BELLA AND

FLORRY) So. Allow me. (HE TAKES UP THE POUNDNOTE) Three times ten. We're

square.
BELLA: (ADMIRINGLY) You're such a slyboots, old cocky. I could kiss you.
ZOE: (POINTS) Him? Deep as a drawwell. (LYNCH BENDS KITTY BACK OVER THE

SOFA AND KISSES HER. BLOOM GOES WITH THE POUNDNOTE TO STEPHEN.)
BLOOM: This is yours.
STEPHEN: How is that? LES DISTRAIT or absentminded beggar. (HE FUMBLES

AGAIN IN HIS POCKET AND DRAWS OUT A HANDFUL OF COINS. AN OBJECT FILLS.)

That fell.
BLOOM: (STOOPING, PICKS UP AND HANDS A BOX OF MATCHES) This.
STEPHEN: Lucifer. Thanks.
BLOOM: (QUIETLY) You had better hand over that cash to me to take care

of. Why pay more?
STEPHEN: (HANDS HIM ALL HIS COINS) Be just before you are generous.
BLOOM: I will but is it wise? (HE COUNTS) One, seven, eleven, and five.

Six. Eleven. I don't answer for what you may have lost.
STEPHEN: Why striking eleven? Proparoxyton. Moment before the next

Lessing says. Thirsty fox. (HE LAUGHS LOUDLY) Burying his grandmother.

Probably he killed her.
BLOOM: That is one pound six and eleven. One pound seven, say.
STEPHEN: Doesn't matter a rambling damn.
BLOOM: No, but ...
STEPHEN: (COMES TO THE TABLE) Cigarette, please. (LYNCH TOSSES A

CIGARETTE FROM THE SOFA TO THE TABLE) And so Georgina Johnson is dead and

married. (A CIGARETTE APPEARS ON THE TABLE. STEPHEN LOOKS AT IT) Wonder.

Parlour magic. Married. Hm. (HE STRIKES A MATCH AND PROCEEDS TO LIGHT THE

CIGARETTE WITH ENIGMATIC MELANCHOLY)
LYNCH: (WATCHING HIM) You would have a better chance of lighting it if

you held the match nearer.
STEPHEN: (BRINGS THE MATCH NEAR HIS EYE) Lynx eye. Must get glasses.

Broke them yesterday. Sixteen years ago. Distance. The eye sees all flat.

(HE DRAWS THE MATCH AWAY. IT GOES OUT.) Brain thinks. Near: far.

Ineluctable modality of the visible. (HE FROWNS MYSTERIOUSLY) Hm. Sphinx.

The beast that has twobacks at midnight. Married.
ZOE: It was a commercial traveller married her and took her away with

him.
FLORRY: (NODS) Mr Lambe from London.
STEPHEN: Lamb of London, who takest away the sins of our world.
LYNCH: (EMBRACING KITTY ON THE SOFA, CHANTS DEEPLY) DONA NOBIS PACEM.
(THE CIGARETTE SLIPS FROM STEPHEN 'S FINGERS. BLOOM PICKS IT UP AND

THROWS IT IN THE GRATE.)
BLOOM: Don't smoke. You ought to eat. Cursed dog I met. (TO ZOE) You have

nothing?
ZOE: Is he hungry?
STEPHEN: (EXTENDS HIS HAND TO HER SMILING AND CHANTS TO THE AIR OF THE

BLOODOATH IN THE Dusk of the Gods)

Hangende Hunger,

Fragende Frau,

Macht uns alle kaputt.

ZOE: (TRAGICALLY) Hamlet, I am thy father's gimlet! (SHE TAKES HIS HAND)

Blue eyes beauty I'll read your hand. (SHE POINTS TO HIS FOREHEAD) No

wit, no wrinkles. (SHE COUNTS) Two, three, Mars, that's courage. (STEPHEN

SHAKES HIS HEAD) No kid.
LYNCH: Sheet lightning courage. The youth who could not shiver and shake.
(TO ZOE) Who taught you palmistry?
ZOE: (TURNS) Ask my ballocks that I haven't got. (TO STEPHEN) I see it in

your face. The eye, like that. (SHE FROWNS WITH LOWERED HEAD)
LYNCH: (LAUGHING, SLAPS KITTY BEHIND TWICE) Like that. Pandybat.
(TWICE LOUDLY A PANDYBAT CRACKS, THE COFFIN OF THE PIANOLA FLIES OPEN,

THE BALD LITTLE ROUND JACK-IN-THE-BOX HEAD OF FATHER DOLAN SPRINGS UP.)
FATHER DOLAN: Any boy want flogging? Broke his glasses? Lazy idle little

schemer. See it in your eye.
(MILD, BENIGN, RECTORIAL, REPROVING, THE HEAD OF DON JOHN CONMEE RISES

FROM THE PIANOLA COFFIN.)
DON JOHN CONMEE: Now, Father Dolan! Now. I'm sure that Stephen is a very

good little boy!
ZOE: (EXAMINING STEPHEN'S PALM) Woman's hand.
STEPHEN: (MURMURS) Continue. Lie. Hold me. Caress. I never could read His

handwriting except His criminal thumbprint on the haddock.
ZOE: What day were you born?
STEPHEN: Thursday. Today.
ZOE: Thursday's child has far to go. (SHE TRACES LINES ON HIS HAND) Line

of fate. Influential friends.
FLORRY: (POINTING) Imagination.
ZOE: Mount of the moon. You'll meet with a ... (SHE PEERS AT HIS HANDS

ABRUPTLY) I won't tell you what's not good for you. Or do you want to

know?
BLOOM: (DETACHES HER FINGERS AND OFFERS HIS PALM) More harm than good.

Here. Read mine.
BELLA: Show. (SHE TURNS UP BLOOM'S HAND) I thought so. Knobby knuckles

for the women.
ZOE: (PEERING AT BLOOM'S PALM) Gridiron. Travels beyond the sea and marry

money.
BLOOM: Wrong.
ZOE: (QUICKLY) O, I see. Short little finger. Henpecked husband. That

wrong?
(BLACK LIZ, A HUGE ROOSTER HATCHING IN A CHALKED CIRCLE, RISES, STRETCHES

HER WINGS AND CLUCKS.)
BLACK LIZ: Gara. Klook. Klook. Klook.
(SHE SIDLES FROM HER NEWLAID EGG AND WADDLES OFF)
BLOOM: (POINTS TO HIS HAND) That weal there is an accident. Fell and cut

it twentytwo years ago. I was sixteen.
ZOE: I see, says the blind man. Tell us news.
STEPHEN: See? Moves to one great goal. I am twentytwo. Sixteen years ago

he was twentytwo too. Sixteen years ago I twentytwo tumbled. Twentytwo

years ago he sixteen fell off his hobbyhorse. (HE WINCES) Hurt my hand

somewhere. Must see a dentist. Money?
(ZOE WHISPERS TO FLORRY. THEY GIGGLE. BLOOM RELEASES HIS HAND AND WRITES

IDLY ON THE TABLE IN BACKHAND, PENCILLING SLOW CURVES.)
FLORRY: What?
(A HACKNEYCAR, NUMBER THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTYFOUR, WITH A

GALLANTBUTTOCKED MARE, DRIVEN BY JAMES BARTON, HARMONY AVENUE,

DONNYBROOK, TROTS PAST. BLAZES BOYLAN AND LENEHAN SPRAWL SWAYING ON THE

SIDESEATS. THE ORMOND BOOTS CROUCHES BEHIND ON THE AXLE. SADLY OVER THE

CROSSBLIND LYDIA DOUCE AND MINA KENNEDY GAZE.)
THE BOOTS: (JOGGING, MOCKS THEM WITH THUMB AND WRIGGLING WORMFINGERS) Haw

haw have you the horn?
(BRONZE BY GOLD THEY WHISPER.)
ZOE: (TO FLORRY) Whisper.
(THEY WHISPER AGAIN)
(OVER THE WELL OF THE CAR BLAZES BOYLAN LEANS, HIS BOATER STRAW SET

SIDEWAYS, A RED FLOWER IN HIS MOUTH. LENEHAN IN YACHTSMAN'S CAP AND WHITE

SHOES OFFICIOUSLY DETACHES A LONG HAIR FROM BLAZES BOYLAN'S COAT

SHOULDER.)
LENEHAN: Ho! What do I here behold? Were you brushing the cobwebs off a

few quims?
BOYLAN: (SEATED, SMILES) Plucking a turkey.
LENEHAN: A good night's work.
BOYLAN: (HOLDING UP FOUR THICK BLUNTUNGULATED FINGERS, WINKS) Blazes

Kate! Up to sample or your money back. (HE HOLDS OUT A FOREFINGER) Smell

that.
LENEHAN: (SMELLS GLEEFULLY) Ah! Lobster and mayonnaise. Ah!
ZOE AND FLORRY: (LAUGH TOGETHER) Ha ha ha ha.
BOYLAN: (JUMPS SURELY FROM THE CAR AND CALLS LOUDLY FOR ALL TO HEAR)

Hello, Bloom! Mrs Bloom dressed yet?
BLOOM: (IN FLUNKEY'S PRUNE PLUSH COAT AND KNEEBREECHES, BUFF STOCKINGS

AND POWDERED WIG) I'm afraid not, sir. The last articles ...
BOYLAN: (TOSSES HIM SIXPENCE) Here, to buy yourself a gin and splash. (HE

HANGS HIS HAT SMARTLY ON A PEG OF BLOOM'S ANTLERED HEAD) Show me in. I

have a little private business with your wife, you understand?
BLOOM: Thank you, sir. Yes, sir. Madam Tweedy is in her bath, sir.
MARION: He ought to feel himself highly honoured. (SHE PLOPS SPLASHING

OUT OF THE WATER) Raoul darling, come and dry me. I'm in my pelt. Only my

new hat and a carriage sponge.
BOYLAN: (A MERRY TWINKLE IN HIS EYE) Topping!
BELLA: What? What is it?
(ZOE WHISPERS TO HER.)
MARION: Let him look, the pishogue! Pimp! And scourge himself! I'll write

to a powerful prostitute or Bartholomona, the bearded woman, to raise

weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a signed and

stamped receipt.
BOYLAN: (clasps himself) Here, I can't hold this little lot much longer.

(he strides off on stiff cavalry legs)
BELLA: (LAUGHING) Ho ho ho ho.
BOYLAN: (TO BLOOM, OVER HIS SHOULDER) You can apply your eye to the

keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through her a few times.
BLOOM: Thank you, sir. I will, sir. May I bring two men chums to witness

the deed and take a snapshot? (HE HOLDS OUT AN OINTMENT JAR) Vaseline,

sir? Orangeflower ...? Lukewarm water ...?
KITTY: (FROM THE SOFA) Tell us, Florry. Tell us. What.
(FLORRY WHISPERS TO HER. WHISPERING LOVEWORDS MURMUR, LIPLAPPING LOUDLY,

POPPYSMIC PLOPSLOP.)
MINA KENNEDY: (HER EYES UPTURNED) O, it must be like the scent of

geraniums and lovely peaches! O, he simply idolises every bit of her!

Stuck together! Covered with kisses!
LYDIA DOUCE: (HER MOUTH OPENING) Yumyum. O, he's carrying her round the

room doing it! Ride a cockhorse. You could hear them in Paris and New

York. Like mouthfuls of strawberries and cream.
KITTY: (LAUGHING) Hee hee hee.
BOYLAN'S VOICE: (SWEETLY, HOARSELY, IN THE PIT OF HIS STOMACH) Ah!

Gooblazqruk brukarchkrasht!
MARION'S VOICE: (HOARSELY, SWEETLY, RISING TO HER THROAT) O!

Weeshwashtkissinapooisthnapoohuck?
BLOOM: (HIS EYES WILDLY DILATED, CLASPS HIMSELF) Show! Hide! Show! Plough

her! More! Shoot!
BELLA, ZOE, FLORRY, KITTY: Ho ho! Ha ha! Hee hee!
LYNCH: (POINTS) The mirror up to nature. (HE LAUGHS) Hu hu hu hu hu!
(STEPHEN AND BLOOM GAZE IN THE MIRROR. THE FACE OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE,

BEARDLESS, APPEARS THERE, RIGID IN FACIAL PARALYSIS, CROWNED BY THE

REFLECTION OF THE REINDEER ANTLERED HATRACK IN THE HALL.)
SHAKESPEARE: (IN DIGNIFIED VENTRILOQUY) 'Tis the loud laugh bespeaks the

vacant mind. (TO BLOOM) Thou thoughtest as how thou wastest invisible.

Gaze. (HE CROWS WITH A BLACK CAPON'S LAUGH) Iagogo! How my Oldfellow

chokit his Thursdaymornun. Iagogogo!
BLOOM: (SMILES YELLOWLY AT THE THREE WHORES) When will I hear the joke?
ZOE: Before you're twice married and once a widower.
BLOOM: Lapses are condoned. Even the great Napoleon when measurements

were taken next the skin after his death ...
(MRS DIGNAM, WIDOW WOMAN, HER SNUBNOSE AND CHEEKS FLUSHED WITH DEATHTALK,

TEARS AND TUNNEY'S TAWNY SHERRY, HURRIES BY IN HER WEEDS, HER BONNET

AWRY, ROUGING AND POWDERING HER CHEEKS, LIPS AND NOSE, A PEN CHIVVYING

HER BROOD OF CYGNETS. BENEATH HER SKIRT APPEAR HER LATE HUSBAND'S

EVERYDAY TROUSERS AND TURNEDUP BOOTS, LARGE EIGHTS. SHE HOLDS A SCOTTISH

WIDOWS' INSURANCE POLICY AND A LARGE MARQUEE UMBRELLA UNDER WHICH HER

BROOD RUN WITH HER, PATSY HOPPING ON ONE SHOD FOOT, HIS COLLAR LOOSE, A

HANK OF PORKSTEAKS DANGLING, FREDDY WHIMPERING, SUSY WITH A CRYING COD'S

MOUTH, ALICE STRUGGLING WITH THE BABY. SHE CUFFS THEM ON, HER STREAMERS

FLAUNTING ALOFT.)
FREDDY: Ah, ma, you're dragging me along!
SUSY: Mamma, the beeftea is fizzing over!
SHAKESPEARE: (WITH PARALYTIC RAGE) Weda seca whokilla farst.
(THE FACE OF MARTIN CUNNINGHAM, BEARDED, REFEATURES SHAKESPEARE'S

BEARDLESS FACE. THE MARQUEE UMBRELLA SWAYS DRUNKENLY, THE CHILDREN RUN

ASIDE. UNDER THE UMBRELLA APPEARS MRS CUNNINGHAM IN MERRY WIDOW HAT AND

KIMONO GOWN. SHE GLIDES SIDLING AND BOWING, TWIRLING JAPANESILY.)
MRS CUNNINGHAM: (SINGS)

And they call me the jewel of Asia!

MARTIN CUNNINGHAM: (GAZES ON HER, IMPASSIVE) Immense! Most bloody awful

demirep!
STEPHEN: ET EXALTABUNTUR CORNUA IUSTI. Queens lay with prize bulls.

Remember Pasiphae for whose lust my grandoldgrossfather made the first

confessionbox. Forget not Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of

the house of Lambert. And Noah was drunk with wine. And his ark was open.
BELLA: None of that here. Come to the wrong shop.
LYNCH: Let him alone. He's back from Paris.
ZOE: (RUNS TO STEPHEN AND LINKS HIM) O go on! Give us some parleyvoo.
(STEPHEN CLAPS HAT ON HEAD AND LEAPS OVER TO THE FIREPLACE WHERE HE

STANDS WITH SHRUGGED SHOULDERS, FINNY HANDS OUTSPREAD, A PAINTED SMILE ON

HIS FACE.)
LYNCH: (POMMELLING ON THE SOFA) Rmm Rmm Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm.
STEPHEN: (GABBLES WITH MARIONETTE JERKS) Thousand places of entertainment

to expense your evenings with lovely ladies saling gloves and other

things perhaps hers heart beerchops perfect fashionable house very

eccentric where lots cocottes beautiful dressed much about princesses

like are dancing cancan and walking there parisian clowneries extra

foolish for bachelors foreigns the same if talking a poor english how

much smart they are on things love and sensations voluptuous. Misters

very selects for is pleasure must to visit heaven and hell show with

mortuary candles and they tears silver which occur every night. Perfectly

shocking terrific of religion's things mockery seen in universal world.

All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then disrobe and squeal loud

to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh young with DESSOUS TROUBLANTS.

(HE CLACKS HIS TONGUE LOUDLY) HO, LA LA! CE PIF QU'IL A!
LYNCH: VIVE LE VAMPIRE!
THE WHORES: Bravo! Parleyvoo!
STEPHEN: (GRIMACING WITH HEAD BACK, LAUGHS LOUDLY, CLAPPING HIMSELF)

Great success of laughing. Angels much prostitutes like and holy apostles

big damn ruffians. DEMIMONDAINES nicely handsome sparkling of diamonds

very amiable costumed. Or do you are fond better what belongs they

moderns pleasure turpitude of old mans? (HE POINTS ABOUT HIM WITH

GROTESQUE GESTURES WHICH LYNCH AND THE WHORES REPLY TO) Caoutchouc statue

woman reversible or lifesize tompeeptom of virgins nudities very lesbic

the kiss five ten times. Enter, gentleman, to see in mirror every

positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act

awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on the

belly PIECE DE SHAKESPEARE.
BELLA: (CLAPPING HER BELLY SINKS BACK ON THE SOFA, WITH A SHOUT OF

LAUGHTER) An omelette on the ... Ho! ho! ho! ho! ... omelette on the ...
STEPHEN: (MINCINGLY) I love you, sir darling. Speak you englishman tongue

for DOUBLE ENTENTE CORDIALE. O yes, MON LOUP. How much cost? Waterloo.

Watercloset. (HE CEASES SUDDENLY AND HOLDS UP A FOREFINGER)
BELLA: (LAUGHING) Omelette ...
THE WHORES: (LAUGHING) Encore! Encore!
STEPHEN: Mark me. I dreamt of a watermelon.
ZOE: Go abroad and love a foreign lady.
LYNCH: Across the world for a wife.
FLORRY: Dreams goes by contraries.
STEPHEN: (EXTENDS HIS ARMS) It was here. Street of harlots. In Serpentine

avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a fubsy widow. Where's the red carpet

spread?
BLOOM: (APPROACHING STEPHEN) Look ...
STEPHEN: No, I flew. My foes beneath me. And ever shall be. World without

end. (HE CRIES) PATER! Free!
BLOOM: I say, look ...
STEPHEN: Break my spirit, will he? O MERDE ALORS! (HE CRIES, HIS VULTURE

TALONS SHARPENED) Hola! Hillyho!
(SIMON DEDALUS' VOICE HILLOES IN ANSWER, SOMEWHAT SLEEPY BUT READY.)
SIMON: That's all right. (HE SWOOPS UNCERTAINLY THROUGH THE AIR,

WHEELING, UTTERING CRIES OF HEARTENING, ON STRONG PONDEROUS BUZZARD

WINGS) Ho, boy! Are you going to win? Hoop! Pschatt! Stable with those

halfcastes. Wouldn't let them within the bawl of an ass. Head up! Keep

our flag flying! An eagle gules volant in a field argent displayed.

Ulster king at arms! Haihoop! (HE MAKES THE BEAGLE'S CALL, GIVING TONGUE)

Bulbul! Burblblburblbl! Hai, boy!
(THE FRONDS AND SPACES OF THE WALLPAPER FILE RAPIDLY ACROSS COUNTRY. A

STOUT FOX, DRAWN FROM COVERT, BRUSH POINTED, HAVING BURIED HIS

GRANDMOTHER, RUNS SWIFT FOR THE OPEN, BRIGHTEYED, SEEKING BADGER EARTH,

UNDER THE LEAVES. THE PACK OF STAGHOUNDS FOLLOWS, NOSE TO THE GROUND,

SNIFFING THEIR QUARRY, BEAGLEBAYING, BURBLBRBLING TO BE BLOODED. WARD

UNION HUNTSMEN AND HUNTSWOMEN LIVE WITH THEM, HOT FOR A KILL. FROM SIX

MILE POINT, FLATHOUSE, NINE MILE STONE FOLLOW THE FOOTPEOPLE WITH KNOTTY

STICKS, HAYFORKS, SALMONGAFFS, LASSOS, FLOCKMASTERS WITH STOCKWHIPS,

BEARBAITERS WITH TOMTOMS, TOREADORS WITH BULLSWORDS, GREYNEGROES WAVING

TORCHES. THE CROWD BAWLS OF DICERS, CROWN AND ANCHOR PLAYERS,

THIMBLERIGGERS, BROADSMEN. CROWS AND TOUTS, HOARSE BOOKIES IN HIGH WIZARD

HATS CLAMOUR DEAFENINGLY.)
THE CROWD:

Card of the races. Racing card!

Ten to one the field!

Tommy on the clay here! Tommy on the clay!

Ten to one bar one! Ten to one bar one!

Try your luck on Spinning Jenny!

Ten to one bar one!

Sell the monkey, boys! Sell the monkey!

I'll give ten to one!

Ten to one bar one!

(A DARK HORSE, RIDERLESS, BOLTS LIKE A PHANTOM PAST THE WINNINGPOST, HIS

MANE MOONFOAMING, HIS EYEBALLS STARS. THE FIELD FOLLOWS, A BUNCH OF

BUCKING MOUNTS. SKELETON HORSES, SCEPTRE, MAXIMUM THE SECOND, ZINFANDEL,

THE DUKE OF WESTMINSTER'S SHOTOVER, REPULSE, THE DUKE OF BEAUFORT'S

CEYLON, PRIX DE PARIS. DWARFS RIDE THEM, RUSTYARMOURED, LEAPING, LEAPING

IN THEIR, IN THEIR SADDLES. LAST IN A DRIZZLE OF RAIN ON A BROKENWINDED

ISABELLE NAG, COCK OF THE NORTH, THE FAVOURITE, HONEY CAP, GREEN JACKET,

ORANGE SLEEVES, GARRETT DEASY UP, GRIPPING THE REINS, A HOCKEYSTICK AT

THE READY. HIS NAG ON SPAVINED WHITEGAITERED FEET JOGS ALONG THE ROCKY

ROAD.)
THE ORANGE LODGES: (JEERING) Get down and push, mister. Last lap! You'll

be home the night!
GARRETT DEASY: (BOLT UPRIGHT, HIS NAILSCRAPED FACE PLASTERED WITH

POSTAGESTAMPS, BRANDISHES HIS HOCKEYSTICK, HIS BLUE EYES FLASHING IN THE

PRISM OF THE CHANDELIER AS HIS MOUNT LOPES BY AT SCHOOLING GALLOP)
PER VIAS RECTAS!
(A YOKE OF BUCKETS LEOPARDS ALL OVER HIM AND HIS REARING NAG A TORRENT OF

MUTTON BROTH WITH DANCING COINS OF CARROTS, BARLEY, ONIONS, TURNIPS,

POTATOES.)
THE GREEN LODGES: Soft day, sir John! Soft day, your honour!
(PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY PASS BENEATH THE

WINDOWS, SINGING IN DISCORD.)
STEPHEN: Hark! Our friend noise in the street.
ZOE: (HOLDS UP HER HAND) Stop!
PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY:

Yet I've a sort a

Yorkshire relish for ...

ZOE: That's me. (SHE CLAPS HER HANDS) Dance! Dance! (SHE RUNS TO THE

PIANOLA) Who has twopence?
BLOOM: Who'll ...?
LYNCH: (HANDING HER COINS) Here.
STEPHEN: (CRACKING HIS FINGERS IMPATIENTLY) Quick! Quick! Where's my

augur's rod? (HE RUNS TO THE PIANO AND TAKES HIS ASHPLANT, BEATING HIS

FOOT IN TRIPUDIUM)
ZOE: (TURNS THE DRUMHANDLE) There.
(SHE DROPS TWO PENNIES IN THE SLOT. GOLD, PINK AND VIOLET LIGHTS START

FORTH. THE DRUM TURNS PURRING IN LOW HESITATION WALTZ. PROFESSOR GOODWIN,

IN A BOWKNOTTED PERIWIG, IN COURT DRESS, WEARING A STAINED INVERNESS

CAPE, BENT IN TWO FROM INCREDIBLE AGE, TOTTERS ACROSS THE ROOM, HIS HANDS

FLUTTERING. HE SITS TINILY ON THE PIANOSTOOL AND LIFTS AND BEATS HANDLESS

STICKS OF ARMS ON THE KEYBOARD, NODDING WITH DAMSEL'S GRACE, HIS BOWKNOT

BOBBING)
ZOE: (TWIRLS ROUND HERSELF, HEELTAPPING) Dance. Anybody here for there?

Who'll dance? Clear the table.
(THE PIANOLA WITH CHANGING LIGHTS PLAYS IN WALTZ TIME THE PRELUDE OF My

Girl's a Yorkshire Girl. STEPHEN THROWS HIS ASHPLANT ON THE TABLE AND

SEIZES ZOE ROUND THE WAIST. FLORRY AND BELLA PUSH THE TABLE TOWARDS THE

FIREPLACE. STEPHEN, ARMING ZOE WITH EXAGGERATED GRACE, BEGINS TO WALTZ

HER ROUND THE ROOM. BLOOM STANDS ASIDE. HER SLEEVE FILLING FROM GRACING

ARMS REVEALS A WHITE FLESHFLOWER OF VACCINATION. BETWEEN THE CURTAINS

PROFESSOR MAGINNI INSERTS A LEG ON THE TOEPOINT OF WHICH SPINS A SILK

HAT. WITH A DEFT KICK HE SENDS IT SPINNING TO HIS CROWN AND JAUNTYHATTED

SKATES IN. HE WEARS A SLATE FROCKCOAT WITH CLARET SILK LAPELS, A GORGET

OF CREAM TULLE, A GREEN LOWCUT WAISTCOAT, STOCK COLLAR WITH WHITE

KERCHIEF, TIGHT LAVENDER TROUSERS, PATENT PUMPS AND CANARY GLOVES. IN HIS

BUTTONHOLE IS AN IMMENSE DAHLIA. HE TWIRLS IN REVERSED DIRECTIONS A

CLOUDED CANE, THEN WEDGES IT TIGHT IN HIS OXTER. HE PLACES A HAND LIGHTLY

ON HIS BREASTBONE, BOWS, AND FONDLES HIS FLOWER AND BUTTONS.)
MAGINNI: The poetry of motion, art of calisthenics. No connection with

Madam Legget Byrne's or Levenston's. Fancy dress balls arranged.

Deportment. The Katty Lanner step. So. Watch me! My terpsichorean

abilities. (HE MINUETS FORWARD THREE PACES ON TRIPPING BEE'S FEET) TOUT

LE MONDE EN AVANT! REVERENCE! TOUT LE MONDE EN PLACE!
(THE PRELUDE CEASES. PROFESSOR GOODWIN, BEATING VAGUE ARMS SHRIVELS,

SINKS, HIS LIVE CAPE FILLING ABOUT THE STOOL. THE AIR IN FIRMER WALTZ

TIME SOUNDS. STEPHEN AND ZOE CIRCLE FREELY. THE LIGHTS CHANGE, GLOW, FIDE

GOLD ROSY VIOLET.)
THE PIANOLA:

Two young fellows were talking about their girls, girls, girls,

Sweethearts they'd left behind ...

(FROM A CORNER THE MORNING HOURS RUN OUT, GOLDHAIRED, SLIMSANDALLED, IN

GIRLISH BLUE, WASPWAISTED, WITH INNOCENT HANDS. NIMBLY THEY DANCE,

TWIRLING THEIR SKIPPING ROPES. THE HOURS OF NOON FOLLOW IN AMBER GOLD.

LAUGHING, LINKED, HIGH HAIRCOMBS FLASHING, THEY CATCH THE SUN IN MOCKING

MIRRORS, LIFTING THEIR ARMS.)
MAGINNI: (CLIPCLAPS GLOVESILENT HANDS) CARRE! AVANT DEUX! Breathe evenly!

BALANCE!
(THE MORNING AND NOON HOURS WALTZ IN THEIR PLACES, TURNING, ADVANCING TO

EACH OTHER, SHAPING THEIR CURVES, BOWING VISAVIS. CAVALIERS BEHIND THEM

ARCH AND SUSPEND THEIR ARMS, WITH HANDS DESCENDING TO, TOUCHING, RISING

FROM THEIR SHOULDERS.)
HOURS: You may touch my.
CAVALIERS: May I touch your?
HOURS: O, but lightly!
CAVALIERS: O, so lightly!
THE PIANOLA:

My little shy little lass has a waist.

(ZOE AND STEPHEN TURN BOLDLY WITH LOOSER SWING. THE TWILIGHT HOURS

ADVANCE FROM LONG LANDSHADOWS, DISPERSED, LAGGING, LANGUIDEYED, THEIR

CHEEKS DELICATE WITH CIPRIA AND FALSE FAINT BLOOM. THEY ARE IN GREY GAUZE

WITH DARK BAT SLEEVES THAT FLUTTER IN THE LAND BREEZE.)
MAGINNI: AVANT HUIT! TRAVERSE! SALUT! COURS DE MAINS! CROISE!
(THE NIGHT HOURS, ONE BY ONE, STEAL TO THE LAST PLACE. MORNING, NOON AND

TWILIGHT HOURS RETREAT BEFORE THEM. THEY ARE MASKED, WITH DAGGERED HAIR

AND BRACELETS OF DULL BELLS. WEARY THEY CURCHYCURCHY UNDER VEILS.)
THE BRACELETS: Heigho! Heigho!
ZOE: (TWIRLING, HER HAND TO HER BROW) O!
MAGINNI: LES TIROIRS! CHAINE DE DAMES! LA CORBEILLE! DOS A DOS!
(ARABESQUING WEARILY THEY WEAVE A PATTERN ON THE FLOOR, WEAVING,

UNWEAVING, CURTSEYING, TWIRLING, SIMPLY SWIRLING.)
ZOE: I'm giddy!
(SHE FREES HERSELF, DROOPS ON A CHAIR. STEPHEN SEIZES FLORRY AND TURNS

WITH HER.)
MAGINNI: BOULANGERE! LES RONDS! LES PONTS! CHEVAUX DE BOIS! ESCARGOTS!
(TWINING, RECEDING, WITH INTERCHANGING HANDS THE NIGHT HOURS LINK EACH

EACH WITH ARCHING ARMS IN A MOSAIC OF MOVEMENTS. STEPHEN AND FLORRY TURN

CUMBROUSLY.)
MAGINNI: DANSEZ AVEC VOS DAMES! CHANGEZ DE DAMES! DONNEZ LE PETIT BOUQUET

A VOTRE DAME! REMERCIEZ!
THE PIANOLA:

Best, best of all,

Baraabum!

KITTY: (JUMPS UP) O, they played that on the hobbyhorses at the Mirus

bazaar!
(SHE RUNS TO STEPHEN. HE LEAVES FLORRY BRUSQUELY AND SEIZES KITTY. A

SCREAMING BITTERN'S HARSH HIGH WHISTLE SHRIEKS. GROANGROUSEGURGLING

TOFT'S CUMBERSOME WHIRLIGIG TURNS SLOWLY THE ROOM RIGHT ROUNDABOUT THE

ROOM.)
THE PIANOLA:

My girl's a Yorkshire girl.

ZOE:

Yorkshire through and through.

Come on all!
(SHE SEIZES FLORRY AND WALTZES HER.)
STEPHEN: PAS SEUL!
(HE WHEELS KITTY INTO LYNCH'S ARMS, SNATCHES UP HIS ASHPLANT FROM THE

TABLE AND TAKES THE FLOOR. ALL WHEEL WHIRL WALTZ TWIRL. BLOOMBELLA

KITTYLYNCH FLORRYZOE JUJUBY WOMEN. STEPHEN WITH HAT ASHPLANT FROGSPLITS

IN MIDDLE HIGHKICKS WITH SKYKICKING MOUTH SHUT HAND CLASP PART UNDER

THIGH. WITH CLANG TINKLE BOOMHAMMER TALLYHO HORNBLOWER BLUE GREEN YELLOW

FLASHES TOFT'S CUMBERSOME TURNS WITH HOBBYHORSE RIDERS FROM GILDED SNAKES

DANGLED, BOWELS FANDANGO LEAPING SPURN SOIL FOOT AND FALL AGAIN.)
THE PIANOLA:

Though she's a factory lass

And wears no fancy clothes.

(CLOSECLUTCHED SWIFT SWIFTER WITH GLAREBLAREFLARE SCUDDING THEY

SCOOTLOOTSHOOT LUMBERING BY. BARAABUM!)
TUTTI: Encore! Bis! Bravo! Encore!
SIMON: Think of your mother's people!
STEPHEN: Dance of death.
(BANG FRESH BARANG BANG OF LACQUEY'S BELL, HORSE, NAG, STEER, PIGLINGS,

CONMEE ON CHRISTASS, LAME CRUTCH AND LEG SAILOR IN COCKBOAT ARMFOLDED

ROPEPULLING HITCHING STAMP HORNPIPE THROUGH AND THROUGH. BARAABUM! ON

NAGS HOGS BELLHORSES GADARENE SWINE CORNY IN COFFIN STEEL SHARK STONE

ONEHANDLED NELSON TWO TRICKIES FRAUENZIMMER PLUMSTAINED FROM PRAM FILLING

BAWLING GUM HE'S A CHAMPION. FUSEBLUE PEER FROM BARREL REV. EVENSONG LOVE

ON HACKNEY JAUNT BLAZES BLIND CODDOUBLED BICYCLERS DILLY WITH SNOWCAKE NO

FANCY CLOTHES. THEN IN LAST SWITCHBACK LUMBERING UP AND DOWN BUMP MASHTUB

SORT OF VICEROY AND REINE RELISH FOR TUBLUMBER BUMPSHIRE ROSE. BARAABUM!)
(THE COUPLES FALL ASIDE. STEPHEN WHIRLS GIDDILY. ROOM WHIRLS BACK. EYES

CLOSED HE TOTTERS. RED RAILS FLY SPACEWARDS. STARS ALL AROUND SUNS TURN

ROUNDABOUT. BRIGHT MIDGES DANCE ON WALLS. HE STOPS DEAD.)
STEPHEN: Ho!
(STEPHEN'S MOTHER, EMACIATED, RISES STARK THROUGH THE FLOOR, IN LEPER

GREY WITH A WREATH OF FADED ORANGEBLOSSOMS AND A TORN BRIDAL VEIL, HER

FACE WORN AND NOSELESS, GREEN WITH GRAVEMOULD. HER HAIR IS SCANT AND

LANK. SHE FIXES HER BLUECIRCLED HOLLOW EYESOCKETS ON STEPHEN AND OPENS

HER TOOTHLESS MOUTH UTTERING A SILENT WORD. A CHOIR OF VIRGINS AND

CONFESSORS SING VOICELESSLY.)
THE CHOIR:

Liliata rutilantium te confessorum ...

Iubilantium te virginum ...

(FROM THE TOP OF A TOWER BUCK MULLIGAN, IN PARTICOLOURED JESTER'S DRESS

OF PUCE AND YELLOW AND CLOWN'S CAP WITH CURLING BELL, STANDS GAPING AT

HER, A SMOKING BUTTERED SPLIT SCONE IN HIS HAND.)
BUCK MULLIGAN: She's beastly dead. The pity of it! Mulligan meets the

afflicted mother. (HE UPTURNS HIS EYES) Mercurial Malachi!
THE MOTHER: (WITH THE SUBTLE SMILE OF DEATH'S MADNESS) I was once the

beautiful May Goulding. I am dead.
STEPHEN: (HORRORSTRUCK) Lemur, who are you? No. What bogeyman's trick is

this?
BUCK MULLIGAN: (SHAKES HIS CURLING CAPBELL) The mockery of it! Kinch

dogsbody killed her bitchbody. She kicked the bucket. (TEARS OF MOLTEN

BUTTER FALL FROM HIS EYES ON TO THE SCONE) Our great sweet mother! EPI

OINOPA PONTON.
THE MOTHER: (COMES NEARER, BREATHING UPON HIM SOFTLY HER BREATH OF WETTED

ASHES) All must go through it, Stephen. More women than men in the world.

You too. Time will come.
STEPHEN: (CHOKING WITH FRIGHT, REMORSE AND HORROR) They say I killed you,

mother. He offended your memory. Cancer did it, not I. Destiny.
THE MOTHER: (A GREEN RILL OF BILE TRICKLING FROM A SIDE OF HER MOUTH) You

sang that song to me. LOVE'S BITTER MYSTERY.
STEPHEN: (EAGERLY) Tell me the word, mother, if you know now. The word

known to all men.
THE MOTHER: Who saved you the night you jumped into the train at Dalkey

with Paddy Lee? Who had pity for you when you were sad among the

strangers? Prayer is allpowerful. Prayer for the suffering souls in the

Ursuline manual and forty days' indulgence. Repent, Stephen.
STEPHEN: The ghoul! Hyena!
THE MOTHER: I pray for you in my other world. Get Dilly to make you that

boiled rice every night after your brainwork. Years and years I loved

you, O, my son, my firstborn, when you lay in my womb.
ZOE: (FANNING HERSELF WITH THE GRATE FAN) I'm melting!
FLORRY: (POINTS TO STEPHEN) Look! He's white.
BLOOM: (GOES TO THE WINDOW TO OPEN IT MORE) Giddy.
THE MOTHER: (WITH SMOULDERING EYES) Repent! O, the fire of hell!
STEPHEN: (PANTING) His noncorrosive sublimate! The corpsechewer! Raw head

and bloody bones.
THE MOTHER: (HER FACE DRAWING NEAR AND NEARER, SENDING OUT AN ASHEN

BREATH) Beware! (SHE RAISES HER BLACKENED WITHERED RIGHT ARM SLOWLY

TOWARDS STEPHEN'S BREAST WITH OUTSTRETCHED FINGER) Beware God's hand! (A

GREEN CRAB WITH MALIGNANT RED EYES STICKS DEEP ITS GRINNING CLAWS IN

STEPHEN'S HEART.)
STEPHEN: (STRANGLED WITH RAGE) Shite! (HIS FEATURES GROW DRAWN GREY AND

OLD)
BLOOM: (AT THE WINDOW) What?
STEPHEN: AH NON, PAR EXEMPLE! The intellectual imagination! With me all

or not at all. NON SERVIAM!
FLORRY: Give him some cold water. Wait. (SHE RUSHES OUT)
THE MOTHER: (WRINGS HER HANDS SLOWLY, MOANING DESPERATELY) O Sacred Heart

of Jesus, have mercy on him! Save him from hell, O Divine Sacred Heart!
STEPHEN: No! No! No! Break my spirit, all of you, if you can! I'll bring

you all to heel!
THE MOTHER: (IN THE AGONY OF HER DEATHRATTLE) Have mercy on Stephen,

Lord, for my sake! Inexpressible was my anguish when expiring with love,

grief and agony on Mount Calvary.
STEPHEN: NOTHUNG!
(HE LIFTS HIS ASHPLANT HIGH WITH BOTH HANDS AND SMASHES THE CHANDELIER.

TIME'S LIVID FINAL FLAME LEAPS AND, IN THE FOLLOWING DARKNESS, RUIN OF

ALL SPACE, SHATTERED GLASS AND TOPPLING MASONRY.)
THE GASJET: Pwfungg!
BLOOM: Stop!
LYNCH: (RUSHES FORWARD AND SEIZES STEPHEN'S HAND) Here! Hold on! Don't

run amok!
BELLA: Police!
(STEPHEN, ABANDONING HIS ASHPLANT, HIS HEAD AND ARMS THROWN BACK STARK,

BEATS THE GROUND AND FLIES FROM THE ROOM, PAST THE WHORES AT THE DOOR.)
BELLA: (SCREAMS) After him!
(THE TWO WHORES RUSH TO THE HALLDOOR. LYNCH AND KITTY AND ZOE STAMPEDE

FROM THE ROOM. THEY TALK EXCITEDLY. BLOOM FOLLOWS, RETURNS.)
THE WHORES: (JAMMED IN THE DOORWAY, POINTING) Down there.
ZOE: (POINTING) There. There's something up.
BELLA: Who pays for the lamp? (SHE SEIZES BLOOM'S COATTAIL) Here, you

were with him. The lamp's broken.
BLOOM: (RUSHES TO THE HALL, RUSHES BACK) What lamp, woman?
A WHORE: He tore his coat.
BELLA: (HER EYES HARD WITH ANGER AND CUPIDITY, POINTS) Who's to pay for

that? Ten shillings. You're a witness.
BLOOM: (SNATCHES UP STEPHEN'S ASHPLANT) Me? Ten shillings? Haven't you

lifted enough off him? Didn't he ...?
BELLA: (LOUDLY) Here, none of your tall talk. This isn't a brothel. A ten

shilling house.
BLOOM: (HIS HEAD UNDER THE LAMP, PULLS THE CHAIN. PULING, THE GASJET

LIGHTS UP A CRUSHED MAUVE PURPLE SHADE. HE RAISES THE ASHPLANT.) Only the

chimney's broken. Here is all he ...
BELLA: (SHRINKS BACK AND SCREAMS) Jesus! Don't!
BLOOM: (WARDING OFF A BLOW) To show you how he hit the paper. There's not

sixpenceworth of damage done. Ten shillings!
FLORRY: (WITH A GLASS OF WATER, ENTERS) Where is he?
BELLA: Do you want me to call the police?
BLOOM: O, I know. Bulldog on the premises. But he's a Trinity student.

Patrons of your establishment. Gentlemen that pay the rent. (HE MAKES A

MASONIC SIGN) Know what I mean? Nephew of the vice-chancellor. You don't

want a scandal.
BELLA: (ANGRILY) Trinity. Coming down here ragging after the boatraces

and paying nothing. Are you my commander here or? Where is he? I'll

charge him! Disgrace him, I will! (SHE SHOUTS) Zoe! Zoe!
BLOOM: (URGENTLY) And if it were your own son in Oxford? (WARNINGLY) I

know.
BELLA: (ALMOST SPEECHLESS) Who are. Incog!
ZOE: (IN THE DOORWAY) There's a row on.
BLOOM: What? Where? (HE THROWS A SHILLING ON THE TABLE AND STARTS) That's

for the chimney. Where? I need mountain air.


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