, the  new Bloomusalem  in the
Nova Hibernia of the future.
     (<i>Thirtytwo workmen wearing  rosettes, from all the counties of Ireland,
under the guidance  of Derwan  the builder construct the new Bloomusalem. It
is a colossal  edifice, with crystal roof built in the shape of a  huge pork
kidney,  containing forty thousand  rooms. In the  course of  its  extension
several  buildings and  monuments  are  demolished.  Government  offices are
temporarily transferred to railway  sheds. Numerous houses  are razed to the
ground. The inhabitants are lodged  in barrels and  boxes, all marked in red
with the letters: L.  B. Several paupers fall  from a ladder. A  part of the
walls of Dublin, crowded with loyal sightseers, collapses</i>.)
     THE SIGHTSEERS (<i>Dying) Morituri te salutant. (They die</i>.)
     (<i>A  man in a brown macintosh springs  up through a trap-door. He points
an elongated finger at Bloom</i>.)
     THE MAN  IN THE MACINTOSH Don't you believe a word he Says. That man is
Leopold M'Intosh, the notorious fireraiser. His real name is Higgins.
     BLOOM Shoot him! Dog of a christian! So much for M'Intosh!
     (<i>A  cannonshot. The  man  in the macintosh disappears. Bloom  with  his
sceptre  strikes down poppies.  The  instantaneous deaths  of  many powerful
enemies, graziers,  members of parliament,  members of  standing committees,
are  reported.  Bloom's bodyguard  distribute  Maundy  money,  commemoration
medals,  loaves and fishes, temperance badges, expensive Henry  Clay cigars,
free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives,  in sealed envelopes tied with
gold  thread,  butter scotch,  pineapple  rock</i>, billets doux <i>in the form  of
cocked  hats, readymade suits, porringers  of  toad  in the hole, bottles of
Jeyes'  Fluid,  purchase  stamps,  40  days'  indulgences,  spurious  coins,
dairyfed pork sausages,  theatre passes,  season tickets available  for  all
tram  lines, coupons of the royal and  privileged  Hungarian  lottery, penny
dinner  counters, cheap reprints of the World's Twelve  Worst  Books: Froggy
and Fritz  (politic),  Care  of the  Baby  (infantilic),  So  Meals  for 7/6
(culinic), Was  Jesus a  Sun  Myth?  (historic), Expel  that  Pain  (medic),
Infant's Compendium  of the Universe (cosmic), Let's All  Chortle (hilaric),
Canvasser's  Vade  Mecum  (journalic),  love-letters  of   Mother  Assistant
(erotic),  Who's  Who  in  Space  (astric),  Songs that  Reached  Our  Heart
(melodic),  Pennywise's  Way  to Wealth  (parsimonic). A  general  rush  and
scramble.  Women press forward to touch  the  hem of Bloom's  robe. The lady
Gwendolen Dubedat bursts through the throng, leaps on his  horse and  kisses
him on both cheeks amid great acclamation. A magnesium flashlight photograph
is taken. Babes and sucklings are held up</i>.)
     THE WOMEN Little father! Little father!
     THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS
     Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home,
     Cakes in his pocket for Leo alone.
     (<i>Bloom, bending down, pokes Baby Boardman gently in the stomach</i>.)
     BABY BOARDMAN (<i>Hiccups, curdled milk flowing from his mouth</i>.) Hajajaja.
     BLOOM (<i>Shaking hands with  a blind stripling</i>.)  My more  than  Brother!
(<i>Placing his arms round the shoulders of an old couple</i>.) Dear  old  friends!
(<i>He  plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls</i>.)  Peep! Bopeep! (<i>He
wheels twins in a perambulator</i>.)  Ticktacktwo wouldyousetashoe? (<i>He performs
juggler's tricks,  draws red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet
silk  handkerchiefs  from  his mouth</i>.)  Roygbiv.  32  feet per  second.  (<i>He
consoles  a  widow</i>.)  Absence makes the heart  grow younger. (<i>He  dances the
Highland fling  with grotesque antics</i>.)  Leg  it, ye devils! (<i>He kisses  the
bedsores of  a palsied  veteran</i>.)  Honourable  wounds!  (<i>He trips  up  a fat
policeman</i>.)  U.p.:  up. U.p.:  up. (<i>He  whispers  in  the ear of a  blushing
waitress and  laughs kindly</i>.) Ah, naughty, naughty!  (<i>He  eats a  raw turnip
offered him by  Maurice Butterly,  farmer</i>.) Fine!  Splendid! (<i>He  refuses to
accept  three shillings  offered him by Joseph  Hynes, journalist</i>.)  My dear
fellow, not  at all! (<i>He gives his  coat  to a beggar</i>.)  Please accept.  (<i>He
takes part in a stomach  race with  elderly male  and female cripples</i>.) Come
on, boys! Wriggle it, girls!
     THE CITIZEN (<i>Choked with  emotion, brushes aside a tear  in his emerald
muffler</i>.) May the good God bless him!
     (<i>The rams' horns sound for silence. The standard of Zion is hoisted</i>.)
     BLOOM (<i>Uncloaks  impressively, revealing obesity,  unrolls  a paper and
reads solemnly</i>.) Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom Kippur
Hanukah Ros chaschana  Beni  Brith Bar Mitzvah  Mazzoth Askenazim  Meshuggah
Talith.
     (<i>An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk</i>.)
     JIMMY HENRY The Court  of  Conscience is now  open.  His  Most Catholic
Majesty will now administer open air justice. Free medical and legal advice,
solution of doubles and other problems. All cordially invited. Given at this
our loyal city of Dublin in the year I of the Paradisiacal Era.
     PADDY LEONARD What am I to do about my rates and taxes?
     BLOOM Pay them, my friend.
     PADDY LEONARD Thank you.
     NOSEY FLYNN Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance?
     BLOOM (<i>Obdurately</i>.) Sirs,  take notice that by the law of torts you are
bound over  in  your  own  recognisances for six months in the  sum of  five
pounds.
     J.J. O'MOLLY A Daniel did I say? Nay! A Peter O'Brien!
     NOSEY FLYNN Where do I draw the five pounds?
     PISSER BURKE For bladder trouble?
     BLOOM
     <i>Acid. nit. hydrochlor dil</i>., 20 minims,
     <i>Tinct. mix. vom</i>., 4 minims.
     <i>Extr. taraxel. lig</i>., 30 minims.
     <i>Aq. dis. ter in die</i>.
     CHRIS  CALLINAN  What  is  the parallax  of the  subsolar  ecliptic  of
Aldebaran?
     BLOOM Pleased to hear from you, Chris. K. II.
     JOE HYNES Why aren't you in uniform?
     BLOOM When  my  progenitor of sainted  memory wore  the uniform of  the
Austrian despot in a dank prison where was yours?
     BEN DOLLARD Pansies?
     BLOOM Embellish (beautify) suburban gardens.
     BEN DOLLARD When twins arrive?
     BLOOM Father (pater, dad) starts thinking.
     LARRY O'ROURKE An eight day licence  for my  new premises. You remember
me, sir Leo, when you were in  number  seven. I'm sending around a dozen  of
stout for the missus.
     BLOOM  (<i>Coldly</i>.)  You have the advantage  of  me. Lady Bloom accepts no
presents.
     CROFTON This is indeed a festivity.
     BLOOM (<i>Solemnly</i>.) You call it a festivity. I call it a sacrament.
     ALEXANDER KEYES When will we have our own house of keys?
     BLOOM I stand  for  the  reform of municipal  morals and the plain  ten
commandments. New worlds  for  old. Union of  all,  jew, moslem and gentile.
Three acres and a cow for all  children  of  nature.  Saloon motor  hearses.
Compulsory  manual labour  for  all.  All parks  open to the  public day and
night. Electric dishscrubbers. Tuberculosis, lunacy, war and mendicancy must
now cease. General  amnesty, weekly  carnival, with  masked licence, bonuses
for  all,  esperanto  the  universal  brotherhood.  No  more  patriotism  of
barspongers and dropsical impostors. Free money,  free  love and a  free lay
church in a free lay state.
     O'MADDEN BURKE Free fox in a free henroost.
     DAVY BYRNE (<i>Yawning</i>.) Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach!
     BLOOM Mixed races and mixed marriage.
     LENEHAN What about mixed bathing?
     (<i>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</i>.)
     FATHER FARLEY He  is  an episcopalian,  an agnostic,  an any thingarian
seeking to overthrow our holy faith.
     MRS RIORDAN (<i>Tears up her will</i>.) I'm disappointed in you! You bad man!
     MOTHER GROGAN (<i>Removes her boot to throw it at  Bloom</i>.) You beast!  You
abominable person!
     NOSEY FLYNN Give us a tune, Bloom. One of the old sweet songs.
     BLOOM (<i>With rollicking humour</i>.)
     I vowed that I never would leave her,
     She turned out a cruel deceiver.
     With my tooraloom tooraloom tooralcom 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. (<i>Laughter</i>.)
     LENEHAN Plagiarist! Down with Bloom!
     THE VEILED SIBYL (<i>Enthusiastically</i>.) 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 (<i>Winks at the bystanders</i>.) I bet she's a bonny lassie.
     THEODORE PUREFOY  (<i>In fishing cap  and oilskin  jacket</i>.) He  employs  a
mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of nature.
     THE VEILED SIBYL (<i>Stabs herself</i>.) My hero god! (<i>She dies</i>.)
     (<i>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  gas  ovens, hanging themselves  in
stylish garters, leaping from windows of different storeys</i>.)
     ALEXANDER J. DOWIE (<i>Violently</i>.) 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!
     (<i>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,  sheeps'
tails, odd pieces of fat</i>.)
     BLOOM (<i>Excitedly</i>.) 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,  <i>sgenl  inn  ban bata  coisde gan
capall</i>. I call on my old friend, Dr Malachi Mulligan, sex specialist to give
medical testimony on my behalf.
     DR  MULLIGAN (<i>In motor jerkin, green motoroggles on his brow</i>.) 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 <i>virgo intacta.
     (Bloom holds his high grade hat over his genital organs</i>.)
     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 <i>fetor judaicus</i> is most perceptible.
     DR  DIXON  (<i>Reads  a  bill  of health</i>.)  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 feeble-minded 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 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.
     (<i>General  commotion  and compassion.  Women  faint. A wealthy  American
makes  a street collection  for Bloom. Gold and silver  coins, bank cheques,
banknotes,  jewels, treasury  bonds, maturing  bills  of  exchange, I.O.U.s,
wedding  rings'  watch-chains,  lockets, necklaces and bracelets are rapidly
collected</i>.)
     BLOOM O, I so want to be a mother.
     MRS THORNTON (<i>In nursetender's gown</i>.) Embrace me tight, dear. You'll be
soon over it. Tight, dear.
     (<i>Bloom  embraces her  tightly and  bears  eight male yellow  and  white
children.  They appear on  a redcarpeted  staircase  adorned  with expensive
plants.   All  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,  MaindorĜe, Silversmile,  Silberselber  Vifargent,  Panargros.
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, vice  chairmen of  hotel
syndicates</i>.)
     A VOICE Bloom, are you the Messiah ben Joseph or ben David?
     BLOOM (<i>Darkly</i>.) You have said it.
     BROTHER BUZZ Then perform a miracle.
     BANTAM LYONS Prophesy who will win the Saint Leger.
     (<i>Bloom walks on a  net, covers  his left eye  with his left ear, passes
through several walls, climbs  Nelson's Pillar, hangs from  the the ledge by
his  eyelids, eats  twelve  dozen  oysters (shells included), heals  several
sufferers  from  kings  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,
Rossuth, 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</i>.)
     BRINI,  PAPAL  NUNCIO (<i>In papal zouave's  uniform, steel  cuirasses  as
breastplate, armplates, thighplates, legplates, large profane moustaches and
brown  paper  mitre.)  Leopoldi autem generatio</i>.  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  began 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 <i>et vocabitur nomen eius Emmanuel</i>.
     A  DEADHAND  (<i>Writes on the  wall</i>.)  Bloom is a cod.  A CRAB  (<i>In  bush
ranger's kit</i>.) What did you do in the cattlecreep behind Kilbarrack?
     A FEMALE INFANT (<i>Shakes a rattle</i>.) And under Ballybough bridge?
     A HOLLYBUSH And in the devil's glen?
     BLOOM  (<i>Blushes furiously  all over  from  front  to nates, three tears
falling from his left eye</i>.) Spare my past.
     THE IRISH EVICTED  TENANTS (<i>In bodycoats, kneebreeches, with Donnybrook
fair shillelaghs</i>.) Sjambok him!
     (<i>Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in the pillory with crossed arms,
his feet protruding. He whistles Don Giovanni</i>, a cenar teco. <i>Artane orphans,
joining hands,  caper round him. Girls  of the Prison Gate Mission,  joining
hands, caper round in the opposite direction</i>.)
     THE ARTANE ORPHANS
     You big, you bog, 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 (<i>In ephod and huntingcap, announces</i>.) 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.
     (<i>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</i>.)
     MASTIANSKY AND CITRON  Belial!  Laemlein of Istria!  the false Messiah!
Abulafia!
     (<i>George S. Mesias,  Bloom's tailor, appears, a tailor's goose under his
arm, presenting a bill</i>.)
     MESIAS To alteration one pair trousers eleven shillings.
     BLOOM (<i>Rubs his hands cheerfully</i>.) Just like old times. Poor Bloom!
     (<i>Reuben J. Dodd, black  bearded Iscariot,  bad shepherd, bearing on his
shoulders the drowned corpse of his son, approaches the pillory</i>.)
     REUBEN J. (<i>Whispers hoarsely</i>.)  The squeak is out. A split  is gone for
the flatties. Nip the first rattler.
     THE FIRE BRIGADE Pflaap!
     BROTHER  BUZZ (<i>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</i>.)  Forgive  him his
trespasses.
     (<i>Lieutenant Myers  of the Dublin  Fire Brigade by general request  sets
fire to Bloom. Lamentations</i>.)
     THE CITIZEN Thank heaven!
     BLOOM (<i>In  a seamless  garment marked  I.  H.  S.  stands  upright amid
phoenix flames</i>.) Weep not for me, O daughters of Erin.
     (<i>He  exhibits to Dublin reporters traces  of burning. The daughters  of
Erin,  in black garments with lace prayerbooks  and long lighted candles  in
their hands, kneel down and pray</i>.)
     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.
     (<i>A choir of six hundred voices, conducted by Mr  Vincent O'Brien, sings
the Alleluia chorus, accompanied on the organ by Joseph Glynn. Bloom becomes
mute, shrunken, carbonised</i>.)
     ZOE Talk away till you're black in the face.
     BLOOM (<i>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</i>.) 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. (<i>With a  tear in  his eye</i>.) 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. (<i>He  gazes far  away
mournfully</i>.) I am ruined. A few pastilles  of aconite.  The blinds drawn.  A
letter. Then lie  back to rest. (<i>He breathes softly</i>.) No more. I have lived.
Fare. Farewell.
     ZOE  (<i>Stiffly, her finger in  her neckfillet</i>.)  Honest?  Till  the next
time. (<i>She sneers</i>.) 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 (<i>Bitterly</i>.) Man and woman, love, what is it? A cork and bottle.
     ZOE  (<i>In sudden  sulks</i>.)  I  hate a rotter  that's  insincere.  Give  a
bleeding whore a chance.
     BLOOM (<i>Repentantly</i>.) I am very disagreeable. You are a  necessary evil.
Where are you from? London?
     ZOE  (<i>Glibly</i>.)  Hog's  Norton  where  the  pigs  play  the organs.  I'm
Yorkshire born. (<i>She holds his hand which is feeling for her nipple</i>.) I say,
Tommy  Tittlemouse. Stop  that and  begin  worse. Have you cash for  a short
time? Ten shillings?
     BLOOM (<i>Smiles, nods slowly</i>.) More, houri, more.
     ZOE And more's mother? (<i>She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws</i>.) Are
you coming  into  the musicroom to  see our new pianola? Come and I'll  peel
off.
     BLOOM   (<i>Feeling   his   occiput  dubiously   with   the   unparalleled
embarrassment  of  a  harassed pedlar gauging  the  symmetry of  her  peeled
pears</i>.) Somebody  would  be dreadfully  jealous if  she knew.  The greeneyed
monster. (<i>Earnestly</i>.) You know how difficult it is. I needn't tell you.
     ZOE (<i>Flattered</i>.) What the eye can't  see the  heart  can't grieve  for.
(<i>She pats him</i>.) Come.
     BLOOM Laughing witch! The hand that rocks the cradle.
     ZOE Babby!
     BLOOM (<i>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 tolling and lisping</i>.) One  two  tlee: tlee  tlwo
tlone.
     THE BUCKLES Love me. Love me not. Love me.
     ZOE Silent means consent. (<i>With little parted  talons she captures  his
hand, her forefinger  giving  to  his palm the pass touch of secret monitor,
luring him to doom</i>.) Hot hands cold gizzard.
     (<i>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</i>.)
     THE MALE BRUTES (<i>Exhaling sulphur of rut and dung and ramping in  their
loosebox, faintly roaring, their drugged heads swaying to and fro</i>.) Good!
     (<i>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</i>.)
     ZOE (<i>Her lucky hand instantly saving him</i>.) Hoopsa! Don't fall upstairs.
     BLOOM  The  just  man  falls  seven times.  (<i>He  stands  aside  at  the
threshold</i>.) After you is good manners.
     ZOE Ladies first, gentlemen after.
     (<i>She crosses  the threshold.  He hesitates.  She turns and, holding out
her hands, draws him over. He hops. On the an tiered 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 thrown open. A man
in  purple shirt and  grey trousers, brownsocked, passes with an apes  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 tapes-tried with a paper of yewfronds and clear glades. In the
grate is  spread a screen of peacock feathers.  Lynch squats crosslegged  on
the hearth rug 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 corset  lace
hangs slightly below her jacket. Lynch indicates mockingly the couple at the
piano</i>.)
     KITTY (<i>Coughs behind her  hand</i>.) She's a bit imbecilic. (<i>She signs with
a  waggling  forefinger</i>.)  Blemblem.  (<i>Lynch lifts up her  skirt  and  white
petticoat with  the wand. She settles them down quickly</i>.) Respect  yourself.
(<i>She hiccups, then bends quickly her sailor hat under which  her hair glows,
red with henna</i>.) O, excuse!
     ZOE More limelight, Charley. (<i>She goes to the chandelier  and turns the
gas full cock</i>.)
     KITTY (<i>Peers at the gasjet</i>.) What ails it tonight?
     LYNCH (<i>Deeply</i>.) Enter a ghost and hobgoblins.
     ZOE Clap on the back for Zoe.
     (<i>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 sofa  corner, her limp forearm  pendent over  the bolster, listening.  A
heavy stye droops over her sleepy eyelid</i>.)
     KITTY (<i>Hiccups again with a kick of her horsed foot</i>.) O, excuse!
     ZOE (<i>Promptly</i>.) Your boy's thinking of you. Tie a knot on your shift.
     (<i>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</i>.)
     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 <i>C<oe>la enarrant gloriam Domini</i>. 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 his almightiness.  <i>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</i>.) Which side is your knowledge
bump?
     THE  CAP  (<i>With saturnine spleen</i>.)  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. (<i>He frowns</i>.) 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  (<i>With on  effort</i>.) Interval  which.  Is  the greatest possible
ellipse. Consistent with. The ultimate return. The octave. Which.
     THE CAP Which? (<i>Outside the gramophone begins to blare</i> The Holy City.)
     STEPHEN (<i>Abruptly</i>.)  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. <i>Ecco!</i>
     LYNCH  (<i>With  a  mocking whinny  of  laughter  grins at Bloom  and  Zoe
Higgins</i>.) What a learned speech, eh?
     ZOE  (<i>Briskly</i>.) God  help  your  head,  he  knows  more than  you  have
forgotten.
     (<i>With obese stupidity Florry Talbot regards Stephen</i>.)
     FLORRY They say the last day is coming this summer.
     KITTY No!
     ZOE (<i>Explodes in laughter</i>.) Great unjust God!
     FLORRY (<i>Offended.)</i> Well, it was in the papers about Anti  christ. O, my
foot's tickling.
     (<i>Ragged  barefoot  newsboys,   jogging  a   wagtail  kite,  patterpast,
yelling</i>.)
     THE  NEWSBOYS Stop press edition. Result of the rockinghorse races. Sea
serpent in the royal canal. Safe arrival of Antichrist.
     (<i>Stephen turns and sees Bloom</i>.)
     STEPHEN A time, times and half a time.
     (<i>Reuben  J.  Antichrist,  wanderingjew, a  clutching  hand open on  his
spine,  stumps forward. Across his  loins is  slung  a  pilgrims 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</i>.)
     ALL What?
     THE HOBGOBLIN (<i>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 son! faits!
(The planets rush together, uttering crepitant cracks.) Rien n'va plus. (The
planets, buoyant balloons, sail  swollen  up  and away. He  springs off into
vacuum</i>.)
     FLORRY (<i>Sinking into torpor, crosses  herself secretly</i>.) The end of the
world!
     (<i>A  female  tepid  effluvium  leaks  out from  her. Nebulous  obscurity
occupies space. Through the drifting fog without  the gramophone blares over
coughs and feetshuffling</i>.)
     THE GRAMOPHONE Jerusalem! Open your gates and sing Hosanna...
     (<i>A rocket rushes up  the sky and  bursts.  A white  star falls from it,
proclaiming the consummation  of  all things  and second coming  of  Elijah.
Along  an infinite invisible tight-rope taut from zenith to nadir the End of
the World, a two headed octopus in gillies kilts, busby and tartan filibegs,
whirls  through the  murk, head over  heels, in the fob of the Three Lugs of
Man</i>.)
     THE END OF THE WORLD (<i>With a Scotch accent</i>.) Wha'll dance the keel row,
the keel row, the keel row?
     (<i>Over the passing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah's voice, harsh
as a  corncrakes, jars  on  high.  Perspiring  in a loose lawn surplice with
funnel sleeves he is seen, vergefaced above a rostrum about which the banner
of old glory is draped. He thumps the parapet.</i>)
     ELIJAH  No yapping, if you please, in  this  booth. Jake  Crane, Creole
Sue, Dave 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. (<i>He  shouts</i>.) Now
then our glory  song. All join heartily  in the singing. Encore! (<i>He sings.)
Jeru</i>...
     THE GRAMOPHONE (<i>Drowning his voice</i>.) Whorusalaminyour highhohhhh.
     (<i>The disc rasps gratingly against the needle</i>.)
     THE THREE' WHORES (<i>Covering their ears, squawk</i>.) Ahhkkk!
     ELIJAH (<i>In rolledup shirtsleeves, black in the face,  shouts at the top
of his voice, his  arms  uplifted</i>.) 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.  (<i>He winks  at his audience</i>.) Our Mr President,  he  twig  the
whole lot and he ain't 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. 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 stars 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.
     (<i>The beatitudes,  Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, Lenehan,  Bannon,
Mulligan  and  Lynch  in  white  surgical  students'  gowns,  four  abreast,
goosestepping, tramp fast past in noisy marching</i>.)
     THE  BEATITUDES  (<i>Incoherently</i>.)  Beer  beef battledog  buybull businum
barnum buggerum bishop.
     LYSTER  (<i>In   quakergrey  kneebreeches   and   broadbrimmed  hat,  says
discreetly</i>.)  He is our friend.  I need not  mention  names.  Seek thou  the
light.
     (<i>He corantos by. Best enters in hairdresser  attire, shinily laundered,
his  locks in  curlpapers.  He  leads John  Eglinton who  wears a mandarin's
kimono of Nankeen yellow, lizard-lettered, and a high pagoda hat</i>.)
     BEST (<i>Smiling, lifts the hat and displays a shaven poll  from the crown
of which bristles a  pigtail toupee tied with an orange topknot</i>.) I was just
beautifying  him, don't you  know. A thing of beauty, don't you know.  Yeats
says,  or  I mean, Keats says. (<i>Produces  a  greencapped  dark  lantern  and
flashes it towards  a  corner; with carping accent</i>.) 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.
     (<i>In  the  cone  of the  search light  behind the  coalscuttle,  ollave,
holyeyed, the bearded figure  of Mananaan MacLir  broods,  chin on knees. He
rises  slowly. A  cold seawind blows from his druid  mantle.  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</i>.)
     MANANAAN MACLIR (<i>With a voice  of waves</i>.) Aum! Hek! Wal! Ak! Lub!  Mor!
Ma! White yoghin of the Gods. Occult  pimander of Hermes Trismegistos. (<i>With
a voice of whistling  seawind</i>.) Punarjanam patsypunjaub! I won't have my leg
pulled. It has been said by one: beware the left, the cult  of Shakti. (<i>With
a cry of stormbirds</i>.) Shakti, Shiva! Dark hidden Father! (<i>He smites with his
bicycle pump the crayfish in his  left hand. On  its co-operative  dial glow
the twelve  signs of the zodiac.  He wails with the vehemence of the ocean</i>.)
Aum! Baum!  Pyjaum! I  am the light  of  the  homestead,  I  am the dreamery
creamery butter.
     (<i>A  skeleton  judas hand strangles the light. The green light  wanes to
mauve. The gasjet wails whistling</i>.)
     THE GASJET Pooah! Pfuiiiiii!
     (<i>Zoe runs to the chandelier and, crooking her leg, adjusts the mantle</i>.)
     ZOE Who has a fag as I'm here?
     LYNCH (<i>Tossing a cigarette on to the table</i>.) Here.
     ZOE (<i>Her head perched aside in mock pride</i>.) Is that the way to hand the
<i>pot</i> to  a  lady? (<i>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</i>.) Can you see the beauty spot of my behind?
     LYNCH I'm not looking.
     ZOE (<i>Makes sheep's  eyes</i>.)  No? You wouldn't do a less thing. Would you
suck a lemon?
     (<i>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</i>.)
     VIRAG (<i>Heels together bows</i>.) My name is Virag  Lipoti,  of Szombathely.
(<i>He coughs thoughtfully, drily</i>.) 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  (<i>Not  unpleasantly</i>.) 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! (<i>With a  nervous  twitch of his h