u08_lestrygonians.xml

<div type="episode" n="08">
<p><lb n="080001"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Pineapple rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. A <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">sugarsticky</distinct> girl
<lb n="080002"/>shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a christian brother. Some school treat.
<lb n="080003"/>Bad for their tummies. Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty
<lb n="080004"/>the King. God. Save. Our. Sitting on his throne sucking red jujubes white.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080005"/>A sombre Y. M. C. A. young man, watchful among the warm sweet
<lb n="080006"/>fumes of Graham Lemon's, placed a throwaway in a hand of Mr Bloom.</p>
<p><lb n="080007"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Heart to heart talks.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080008"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Bloo .... Me? No.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080009"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Blood of the Lamb.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080010"/>His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Are you saved? All are
<lb n="080011"/>washed in the blood of the lamb. God wants blood victim. Birth, hymen,
<lb n="080012"/>martyr, war, foundation of a building, sacrifice, kidney <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">burntoffering</distinct>,
<lb n="080013"/>druids' altars. Elijah is coming. Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the
<lb n="080014"/>church in Zion is coming.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080015"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Is coming! Is coming!! Is coming!!!</said></p>
<p><lb n="080016"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">All heartily welcome.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080017"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Paying game. Torry and Alexander last year. Polygamy. His wife will
<lb n="080018"/>put the stopper on that. Where was that ad some Birmingham firm the
<lb n="080019"/>luminous crucifix. Our Saviour. Wake up in the dead of night and see him
<lb n="080020"/>on the wall, hanging. Pepper's ghost idea. Iron Nails Ran In.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080021"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Phosphorus it must be done with. If you leave a bit of codfish for
<lb n="080022"/>instance. I could see the bluey silver over it. Night I went down to the
<lb n="080023"/>pantry in the kitchen. Don't like all the smells in it waiting to rush out.
<lb n="080024"/>What was it she wanted? The Malaga raisins. Thinking of Spain. Before
<lb n="080025"/>Rudy was born. The phosphorescence, that bluey greeny. Very good for the
<lb n="080026"/>brain.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080027"/>From Butler's monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor's
<lb n="080028"/>walk. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">auctionrooms</distinct>. Must be
<lb n="080029"/>selling off some old furniture. Knew her eyes at once from the father.
<lb n="080030"/>Lobbing about waiting for him. Home always breaks up when the mother
<lb n="080031"/>goes. Fifteen children he had. Birth every year almost. That's in their
<lb n="080032"/>theology or the priest won't give the poor woman the confession, the
<lb n="080033"/>absolution. Increase and multiply. Did you ever hear such an idea? Eat you
<lb n="080034"/>out of house and home. No families themselves to feed. Living on the fat of
<lb n="080035"/>the land. Their butteries and larders. I'd like to see them do the black fast
  <lb n="080036"/>Yom Kippur. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Crossbuns</distinct>. One meal and a collation for fear he'd collapse on
<lb n="080037"/>the altar. A housekeeper of one of those fellows if you could pick it out of
<lb n="080038"/>her. Never pick it out of her. Like getting £. s. d. out of him. Does himself
<lb n="080039"/>well. No guests. All for number one. Watching his water. Bring your own
<lb n="080040"/>bread and butter. His reverence: mum's the word.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080041"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Good Lord, that poor child's dress is in flitters. Underfed she looks
<lb n="080042"/>too. Potatoes and marge, marge and potatoes. It's after they feel it. Proof of
<lb n="080043"/>the pudding. Undermines the constitution.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080044"/>As he set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up
<lb n="080045"/>from the parapet. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Brewery barge with export stout. England. Sea air sours
<lb n="080046"/>it, I heard. Be interesting some day get a pass through Hancock to see the
<lb n="080047"/>brewery. Regular world in itself. Vats of porter wonderful. Rats get in too.
<lb n="080048"/>Drink themselves bloated as big as a collie floating. Dead drunk on the
<lb n="080049"/>porter. Drink till they puke again like christians. Imagine drinking that!
<lb n="080050"/>Rats: vats. Well, of course, if we knew all the things.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080051"/>Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the gaunt
<lb n="080052"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">quaywalls</distinct>, gulls. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Rough weather outside. If I threw myself down? Reuben
<lb n="080053"/>J's son must have swallowed a good bellyful of that sewage. One and
  <lb n="080054"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">eightpence</distinct> too much. Hhhhm. It's the droll way he comes out with the
<lb n="080055"/>things. Knows how to tell a story too.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080056"/>They wheeled lower. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Looking for grub. Wait.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080057"/>He threw down among them a crumpled paper ball. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Elijah <distinct type="compound">thirtytwo</distinct>
<lb n="080058"/>feet per sec is com. Not a bit.</said> The ball bobbed unheeded on the wake of
<lb n="080059"/>swells, floated under by the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">bridgepiers</distinct>. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Not such damn fools. Also the day
<lb n="080060"/>I threw that stale cake out of the Erin's King picked it up in the wake fifty
<lb n="080061"/>yards astern. Live by their wits.</said> They wheeled, flapping.</p>
<lg rend="italics"><lb n="080062"/><said who="lb" aloud="false"><l>The hungry famished gull</l>
<lb n="080063"/><l>Flaps o'er the waters dull.</l></said></lg>
<p><lb n="080064"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">That is how poets write, the similar sounds. But then Shakespeare has
<lb n="080065"/>no rhymes: blank verse. The flow of the language it is. The thoughts.
<lb n="080066"/>Solemn.</said></p>
<quote><lg rend="italics"><lb n="080067"/><said who="lb" aloud="false"><l>Hamlet, I am thy father's spirit</l>
<lb n="080068"/><l>Doomed for a certain time to walk the earth.</l></said></lg></quote>
<p><lb n="080069"/><said who="ua">―Two apples a penny! Two for a penny!</said></p>
<p><lb n="080070"/>His gaze passed over the glazed apples serried on her stand.
<lb n="080071"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Australians they must be this time of year. Shiny peels: polishes them up
<lb n="080072"/>with a rag or a handkerchief.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080073"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Wait. Those poor birds.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080074"/>He halted again and bought from the old <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">applewoman</distinct> two Banbury
<lb n="080075"/>cakes for a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw its fragments down
<lb n="080076"/>into the Liffey. <said who="lb" aloud="false">See that?</said> The gulls swooped silently, two, then all from their
<lb n="080077"/>heights, pouncing on prey. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Gone. Every morsel.</said> Aware of their greed and
<lb n="080078"/>cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his hands. <said who="lb" aloud="false">They never expected
<lb n="080079"/>that. Manna. Live on fish, fishy flesh they have, all seabirds, gulls, <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">seagoose</distinct>.
<lb n="080080"/>Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves.
<lb n="080081"/>No accounting for tastes. Wonder what kind is <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">swanmeat</distinct>. Robinson
<lb n="080082"/>Crusoe had to live on them.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080083"/>They wheeled flapping weakly. <said who="lb" aloud="false">I'm not going to throw any more.
<lb n="080084"/>Penny quite enough. Lot of thanks I get. Not even a caw. They spread foot
<lb n="080085"/>and mouth disease too. If you cram a turkey say on <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">chestnutmeal</distinct> it tastes
<lb n="080086"/>like that. Eat pig like pig. But then why is it that saltwater fish are not salty?
<lb n="080087"/>How is that?</said></p>
<p><lb n="080088"/>His eyes sought answer from the river and saw a rowboat rock at
<lb n="080089"/>anchor on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board.</p>
<lg rend="italics"><lb n="080090"/><said who="lb" aloud="false"><l>Kino's</l>
<lb n="080091"/><l>11/-</l>
<lb n="080092"/><l>Trousers</l></said></lg>
<p><lb n="080093"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Good idea that. Wonder if he pays rent to the corporation. How can
<lb n="080094"/>you own water really? It's always flowing in a stream, never the same,
<lb n="080095"/>which in the stream of life we trace. Because life is a stream. All kinds of
<lb n="080096"/>places are good for ads. That quack doctor for the clap used to be stuck up
<lb n="080097"/>in all the greenhouses. Never see it now. Strictly confidential. Dr Hy
<lb n="080098"/>Franks. Didn't cost him a red like Maginni the dancing master self
<lb n="080099"/>advertisement. Got fellows to stick them up or stick them up himself for
<lb n="080100"/>that matter on the q. t. running in to loosen a button. <distinct type="compound">Flybynight</distinct>. Just the
<lb n="080101"/>place too. POST NO BILLS. POST 11O PILLS. Some chap with a dose burning him.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080102"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">If he ....?</said></p>
<p><lb n="080103"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">O!</said></p>
<p><lb n="080104"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Eh?</said></p>
<p><lb n="080105"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">No ...... No.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080106"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">No, no. I don't believe it. He wouldn't surely?</said></p>
<p><lb n="080107"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">No, no.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080108"/>Mr Bloom moved forward, raising his troubled eyes. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Think no more
  <lb n="080109"/>about that. After one. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Timeball</distinct> on the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">ballastoffice</distinct> is down. Dunsink time.
<lb n="080110"/>Fascinating little book that is of sir Robert Ball's. Parallax. I never exactly
<lb n="080111"/>understood. There's a priest. Could ask him. Par it's Greek: parallel,
<lb n="080112"/>parallax. Met him pike hoses she called it till I told her about the
<lb n="080113"/>transmigration. O rocks!</said></p>
<p><lb n="080114"/>Mr Bloom smiled <said who="lb" aloud="false">O rocks</said> at two windows of the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">ballastoffice</distinct>. <said who="lb" aloud="false">She's
<lb n="080115"/>right after all. Only big words for ordinary things on account of the sound.
<lb n="080116"/>She's not exactly witty. Can be rude too. Blurt out what I was thinking.
<lb n="080117"/>Still, I don't know. She used to say Ben Dollard had a base <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">barreltone</distinct>
<lb n="080118"/>voice. He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was singing into a barrel.
<lb n="080119"/>Now, isn't that wit. They used to call him big Ben. Not half as witty as
<lb n="080120"/>calling him base <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">barreltone</distinct>. Appetite like an albatross. Get outside of a
<lb n="080121"/>baron of beef. Powerful man he was at stowing away number one Bass.
<lb n="080122"/>Barrel of Bass. See? It all works out.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080123"/>A procession of <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">whitesmocked</distinct> <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">sandwichmen</distinct> marched slowly towards
<lb n="080124"/>him along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Bargains. Like that
<lb n="080125"/>priest they are this morning: we have sinned: we have suffered.</said> He read the
<lb n="080126"/>scarlet letters on their five tall white hats: <said who="lb" aloud="false">H. E. L. Y. S. Wisdom Hely's.</said> Y
<lb n="080127"/>lagging behind drew a chunk of bread from under his <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">foreboard</distinct>, crammed
<lb n="080128"/>it into his mouth and munched as he walked. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Our staple food. Three bob a
<lb n="080129"/>day, walking along the gutters, street after street. Just keep skin and bone
  <lb n="080130"/>together, bread and <distinct type="archaism">skilly</distinct>. They are not Boyl: no, M'Glade's men. Doesn't
<lb n="080131"/>bring in any business either. I suggested to him about a transparent
  <lb n="080132"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">showcart</distinct> with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, copybooks,
<lb n="080133"/>envelopes, <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">blottingpaper</distinct>. I bet that would have caught on. Smart girls
<lb n="080134"/>writing something catch the eye at once. Everyone dying to know what
<lb n="080135"/>she's writing. Get twenty of them round you if you stare at nothing. Have a
<lb n="080136"/>finger in the pie. Women too. Curiosity. Pillar of salt. Wouldn't have it of
<lb n="080137"/>course because he didn't think of it himself first. Or the inkbottle I
<lb n="080138"/>suggested with a false stain of black celluloid. His ideas for ads like
<lb n="080139"/>Plumtree's potted under the obituaries, cold meat department. You can't
<lb n="080140"/>lick 'em. What? Our envelopes. Hello, Jones, where are you going? Can't
<lb n="080141"/>stop, Robinson, I am hastening to purchase the only reliable <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">inkeraser</distinct>
<lb n="080142"/><name>Kansell</name>, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame street. Well out of that ruck I am.
<lb n="080143"/>Devil of a job it was collecting accounts of those convents. Tranquilla
<lb n="080144"/>convent. That was a nice nun there, really sweet face. Wimple suited her
<lb n="080145"/>small head. Sister? Sister? I am sure she was crossed in love by her eyes.
<lb n="080146"/>Very hard to bargain with that sort of a woman. I disturbed her at her
<lb n="080147"/>devotions that morning. But glad to communicate with the outside world.
<lb n="080148"/>Our great day, she said. Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Sweet name
<lb n="080149"/>too: caramel. She knew I, I think she knew by the way she. If she had
<lb n="080150"/>married she would have changed. I suppose they really were short of
<lb n="080151"/>money. Fried everything in the best butter all the same. No lard for them.
<lb n="080152"/>My heart's broke eating dripping. They like buttering themselves in and
<lb n="080153"/>out. Molly tasting it, her veil up. Sister? Pat Claffey, the pawnbroker's
<lb n="080154"/>daughter. It was a nun they say invented barbed wire.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080155"/>He crossed Westmoreland street when apostrophe S had plodded by.
<lb n="080156"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Rover <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">cycleshop</distinct>. Those races are on today. How long ago is that? Year
<lb n="080157"/>Phil Gilligan died. We were in Lombard street west. Wait: was in Thom's.
<lb n="080158"/>Got the job in Wisdom Hely's year we married. Six years. Ten years ago:
  <lb n="080159"/><distinct type="compound">ninetyfour</distinct> he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's. Val Dillon was
<lb n="080160"/>lord mayor. The Glencree dinner. Alderman Robert O'Reilly emptying the
<lb n="080161"/>port into his soup before the flag fell. Bobbob lapping it for the inner
<lb n="080162"/>alderman. Couldn't hear what the band played. For what we have already
<lb n="080163"/>received may the Lord make us. Milly was a kiddy then. Molly had that
  <lb n="080164"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">elephantgrey</distinct> dress with the braided frogs. <distinct type="compound">Mantailored</distinct> with <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">selfcovered</distinct>
<lb n="080165"/>buttons. She didn't like it because I sprained my ankle first day she wore
<lb n="080166"/>choir picnic at the Sugarloaf. As if that. Old Goodwin's tall hat done up
<lb n="080167"/>with some sticky stuff. Flies' picnic too. Never put a dress on her back like
<lb n="080168"/>it. Fitted her like a glove, shoulders and hips. Just beginning to plump it out
<lb n="080169"/>well. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Rabbitpie</distinct> we had that day. People looking after her.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080170"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Happy. Happier then. Snug little room that was with the red
<lb n="080171"/>wallpaper. Dockrell's, one and ninepence a dozen. Milly's tubbing night.
<lb n="080172"/>American soap I bought: elderflower. Cosy smell of her bathwater. Funny
<lb n="080173"/>she looked soaped all over. Shapely too. Now photography. Poor papa's
<lb n="080174"/>daguerreotype atelier he told me of. Hereditary taste.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080175"/>He walked along the curbstone.</p>
<p><lb n="080176"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Stream of life. What was the name of that <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">priestylooking</distinct> chap was
<lb n="080177"/>always squinting in when he passed? Weak eyes, woman. Stopped in
<lb n="080178"/>Citron's saint Kevin's parade. Pen something. Pendennis? My memory is
<lb n="080179"/>getting. Pen ...? Of course it's years ago. Noise of the trams probably. Well,
<lb n="080180"/>if he couldn't remember the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">dayfather's</distinct> name that he sees every day.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080181"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Bartell d'Arcy was the tenor, just coming out then. Seeing her home
<lb n="080182"/>after practice. Conceited fellow with his <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">waxedup</distinct> moustache. Gave her that
<lb n="080183"/>song <quote>Winds that blow from the south</quote>.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080184"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Windy night that was I went to fetch her there was that lodge meeting
<lb n="080185"/>on about those lottery tickets after Goodwin's concert in the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">supperroom</distinct> or
<lb n="080186"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">oakroom</distinct> of the Mansion house. He and I behind. Sheet of her music blew
<lb n="080187"/>out of my hand against the High school railings. Lucky it didn't. Thing like
<lb n="080188"/>that spoils the effect of a night for her. Professor Goodwin linking her in
<lb n="080189"/>front. Shaky on his pins, poor old sot. His farewell concerts. Positively last
<lb n="080190"/>appearance on any stage. May be for months and may be for never.
<lb n="080191"/>Remember her laughing at the wind, her blizzard collar up. Corner of
<lb n="080192"/>Harcourt road remember that gust. Brrfoo! Blew up all her skirts and her
<lb n="080193"/>boa nearly smothered old Goodwin. She did get flushed in the wind.
<lb n="080194"/>Remember when we got home raking up the fire and frying up those pieces
<lb n="080195"/>of lap of mutton for her supper with the Chutney sauce she liked. And the
<lb n="080196"/>mulled rum. Could see her in the bedroom from the hearth unclamping the
<lb n="080197"/>busk of her stays: white.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080198"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Swish and soft flop her stays made on the bed. Always warm from
<lb n="080199"/>her. Always liked to let her self out. Sitting there after till near two taking
<lb n="080200"/>out her hairpins. Milly tucked up in <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">beddyhouse</distinct>. Happy. Happy. That was
<lb n="080201"/>the night .....</said>
<lb n="080202"/><said who="jb">―O, Mr Bloom, how do you do?</said>
<lb n="080203"/><said who="lb">―O, how do you do, Mrs Breen?</said>
<lb n="080204"/><said who="jb">―No use complaining. How is Molly those times? Haven't seen her for
<lb n="080205"/>ages.</said>
<lb n="080206"/><said who="lb">―In the pink,</said> Mr Bloom said gaily. <said who="lb">Milly has a position down in Mullingar,
<lb n="080207"/>you know.</said>
<lb n="080208"/><said who="jb">―Go away! Isn't that grand for her?</said>
<lb n="080209"/><said who="lb">―Yes. In a photographer's there. Getting on like a house on fire. How are
<lb n="080210"/>all your charges?</said>
<lb n="080211"/><said who="jb">―All on the baker's list,</said> Mrs Breen said.</p>
<p><lb n="080212"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">How many has she? No other in sight.</said>
<lb n="080213"/><said who="jb">―You're in black, I see. You have no ...?</said>
<lb n="080214"/><said who="lb">―No,</said> Mr Bloom said. <said who="lb">I have just come from a funeral.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080215"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Going to crop up all day, I foresee. Who's dead, when and what did
<lb n="080216"/>he die of? Turn up like a bad penny.</said>
<lb n="080217"/><said who="jb">―O, dear me,</said> Mrs Breen said. <said who="jb">I hope it wasn't any near relation.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080218"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">May as well get her sympathy.</said>
<lb n="080219"/><said who="lb">―Dignam,</said> Mr Bloom said. <said who="lb">An old friend of mine. He died quite suddenly,
<lb n="080220"/>poor fellow. Heart trouble, I believe. Funeral was this morning.</said></p>
<quote><lg rend="italics"><lb n="080221"/><said who="lb" aloud="false"><l>Your funeral's tomorrow</l>
<lb n="080222"/><l>While you're coming through the rye.</l>
<lb n="080223"/><l>Diddlediddle dumdum</l>
<lb n="080224"/><l>Diddlediddle ...</l></said></lg></quote>
<p><lb n="080225"/><said who="jb">―Sad to lose the old friends,</said> Mrs Breen's <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">womaneyes</distinct> said melancholily.</p>
<p><lb n="080226"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Now that's quite enough about that. Just: quietly: husband.</said>
<lb n="080227"/><said who="lb">―And your lord and master?</said></p>
<p><lb n="080228"/>Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Hasn't lost them anyhow.</said>
<lb n="080229"/><said who="jb">―O, don't be talking!</said> she said. <said who="jb">He's a caution to rattlesnakes. He's in there
<lb n="080230"/>now with his <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">lawbooks</distinct> finding out the law of libel. He has me <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">heartscalded</distinct>.
<lb n="080231"/>Wait till I show you.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080232"/>Hot <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">mockturtle</distinct> vapour and steam of <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">newbaked</distinct> <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">jampuffs</distinct> <distinct type="compound">rolypoly</distinct>
<lb n="080233"/>poured out from Harrison's. The heavy <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">noonreek</distinct> tickled the top of Mr
<lb n="080234"/>Bloom's gullet. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Want to make good pastry, butter, best flour, Demerara
<lb n="080235"/>sugar, or they'd taste it with the hot tea. Or is it from her?</said> A barefoot arab
<lb n="080236"/>stood over the grating, breathing in the fumes. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Deaden the gnaw of hunger
<lb n="080237"/>that way. Pleasure or pain is it? Penny dinner. Knife and fork chained to
<lb n="080238"/>the table.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080239"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Opening her handbag, chipped leather. Hatpin: ought to have a
<lb n="080240"/>guard on those things. Stick it in a chap's eye in the tram. Rummaging.
<lb n="080241"/>Open. Money. Please take one. Devils if they lose sixpence. Raise Cain.
<lb n="080242"/>Husband barging. Where's the ten shillings I gave you on Monday? Are
<lb n="080243"/>you feeding your little brother's family? Soiled handkerchief:
<lb n="080244"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">medicinebottle</distinct>. Pastille that was fell. What is she ...?</said>
<lb n="080245"/><said who="jb">―There must be a new moon out,</said> she said. <said who="jb">He's always bad then. Do you
<lb n="080246"/>know what he did last night?</said></p>
<p><lb n="080247"/>Her hand ceased to rummage. Her eyes fixed themselves on him, wide
<lb n="080248"/>in alarm, yet smiling.
<lb n="080249"/><said who="lb">―What?</said> Mr Bloom asked.</p>
<p><lb n="080250"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Let her speak. Look straight in her eyes. I believe you. Trust me.</said>
<lb n="080251"/><said who="jb">―Woke me up in the night,</said> she said. <said who="jb">Dream he had, a nightmare.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080252"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Indiges.</said>
<lb n="080253"/><said who="jb">―Said the ace of spades was walking up the stairs.</said>
<lb n="080254"/><said who="lb">―The ace of spades!</said> Mr Bloom said.</p>
<p><lb n="080255"/>She took a folded postcard from her handbag.
<lb n="080256"/><said who="jb">―Read that,</said> she said. <said who="jb">He got it this morning.</said>
<lb n="080257"/><said who="lb">―What is it?</said> Mr Bloom asked, taking the card. <said who="lb">U. P.?</said>
<lb n="080258"/><said who="jb">―U. p: up,</said> she said. <said who="jb">Someone taking a rise out of him. It's a great shame
<lb n="080259"/>for them whoever he is.</said>
<lb n="080260"/><said who="lb">―Indeed it is,</said> Mr Bloom said.</p>
<p><lb n="080261"/>She took back the card, sighing.
<lb n="080262"/><said who="jb">―And now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. He's going to take an
<lb n="080263"/>action for ten thousand pounds,</said> he says.</p>
<p><lb n="080264"/>She folded the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch.</p>
<p><lb n="080265"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Same blue serge dress she had two years ago, the nap bleaching. Seen
  <lb n="080266"/>its best days. Wispish hair over her ears. And that dowdy toque: three old
<lb n="080267"/>grapes to take the harm out of it. Shabby genteel. She used to be a tasty
<lb n="080268"/>dresser. Lines round her mouth. Only a year or so older than Molly.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080269"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">See the eye that woman gave her, passing. Cruel. The unfair sex.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080270"/>He looked still at her, holding back behind his look his discontent.
<lb n="080271"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Pungent <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">mockturtle</distinct> oxtail mulligatawny. I'm hungry too. Flakes of pastry
<lb n="080272"/>on the gusset of her dress: daub of sugary flour stuck to her cheek.
<lb n="080273"/>Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruit interior. Josie Powell that was.
<lb n="080274"/>In Luke Doyle's long ago. Dolphin's Barn, the charades. U. p: up.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080275"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Change the subject.</said>
<lb n="080276"/><said who="lb">―Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy?</said> Mr Bloom asked.
<lb n="080277"/><said who="jb">―Mina Purefoy?</said> she said.</p>
<p><lb n="080278"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Philip Beaufoy I was thinking. Playgoers' Club. Matcham often
<lb n="080279"/>thinks of the masterstroke. Did I pull the chain? Yes. The last act.</said>
<lb n="080280"/><said who="lb">―Yes.</said>
<lb n="080281"/><said who="jb">―I just called to ask on the way in is she over it. She's in the lying-in
<lb n="080282"/>hospital in Holles street. Dr Horne got her in. She's three days bad now.</said>
<lb n="080283"/><said who="lb">―O,</said> Mr Bloom said. <said who="lb">I'm sorry to hear that.</said>
<lb n="080284"/><said who="jb">―Yes,</said> Mrs Breen said. <said who="jb">And a houseful of kids at home. It's a very stiff birth,
<lb n="080285"/>the nurse told me.</said>
<lb n="080286"/><said who="lb">―O,</said> Mr Bloom said.</p>
<p><lb n="080287"/>His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. His tongue clacked in
<lb n="080288"/>compassion. Dth! Dth!
<lb n="080289"/><said who="lb">―I'm sorry to hear that,</said> he said. <said who="lb">Poor thing! Three days! That's terrible
<lb n="080290"/>for her.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080291"/>Mrs Breen nodded.
<lb n="080292"/><said who="jb">―She was taken bad on the Tuesday ...</said></p>
<p><lb n="080293"/>Mr Bloom touched her <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">funnybone</distinct> gently, warning her:
<lb n="080294"/><said who="lb">―Mind! Let this man pass.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080295"/>A bony form strode along the curbstone from the river staring with a
<lb n="080296"/>rapt gaze into the sunlight through a <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">heavystringed</distinct> glass. Tight as a
  <lb n="080297"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">skullpiece</distinct> a tiny hat gripped his head. From his arm a folded <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">dustcoat</distinct>, a
<lb n="080298"/>stick and an umbrella dangled to his stride.
<lb n="080299"/><said who="lb">―Watch him,</said> Mr Bloom said. <said who="lb">He always walks outside the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">lampposts</distinct>.
<lb n="080300"/>Watch!</said>
<lb n="080301"/><said who="jb">―Who is he if it's a fair question?</said> Mrs Breen asked. <said who="jb">Is he dotty?</said>
<lb n="080302"/><said who="lb">―His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell,</said> Mr
<lb n="080303"/>Bloom said smiling. <said who="lb">Watch!</said>
<lb n="080304"/><said who="jb">―He has enough of them,</said> she said. <said who="jb">Denis will be like that one of these days.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080305"/>She broke off suddenly.
<lb n="080306"/><said who="jb">―There he is,</said> she said. <said who="jb">I must go after him. Goodbye. Remember me to
<lb n="080307"/>Molly, won't you?</said>
<lb n="080308"/><said who="lb">―I will,</said> Mr Bloom said.</p>
<p><lb n="080309"/>He watched her dodge through passers towards the shopfronts. Denis
<lb n="080310"/>Breen in skimpy <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">frockcoat</distinct> and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of Harrison's
<lb n="080311"/>hugging two heavy tomes to his ribs. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Blown in from the bay. Like old times.</said>
<lb n="080312"/>He suffered her to overtake him without surprise and thrust his dull grey
<lb n="080313"/>beard towards her, his loose jaw wagging as he spoke earnestly.</p>
<p><lb n="080314"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Meshuggah. Off his chump.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080315"/>Mr Bloom walked on again easily, seeing ahead of him in sunlight the
  <lb n="080316"/>tight <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">skullpiece</distinct>, the dangling <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">stickumbrelladustcoat</distinct>. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Going the two days.
<lb n="080317"/>Watch him! Out he goes again. One way of getting on in the world. And
<lb n="080318"/>that other old mosey lunatic in those duds. Hard time she must have with
<lb n="080319"/>him.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080320"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">U. p: up. I'll take my oath that's Alf Bergan or Richie Goulding.
<lb n="080321"/>Wrote it for a lark in the Scotch house I bet anything. Round to Menton's
<lb n="080322"/>office. His oyster eyes staring at the postcard. Be a feast for the gods.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080323"/>He passed the <title type="newspaper">Irish Times</title>. <said who="lb" aloud="false">There might be other answers lying there.
<lb n="080324"/>Like to answer them all. Good system for criminals. Code. At their lunch
<lb n="080325"/>now. Clerk with the glasses there doesn't know me. O, leave them there to
<lb n="080326"/>simmer. Enough bother wading through <distinct type="compound">fortyfour</distinct> of them. Wanted, smart
<lb n="080327"/>lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work. I called you naughty darling
<lb n="080328"/>because I do not like that other world. Please tell me what is the meaning.
<lb n="080329"/>Please tell me what perfume does your wife. Tell me who made the world.
<lb n="080330"/>The way they spring those questions on you. And the other one Lizzie
<lb n="080331"/>Twigg. My literary efforts have had the good fortune to meet with the
<lb n="080332"/>approval of the eminent poet A. E. (Mr Geo. Russell). No time to do her
<lb n="080333"/>hair drinking sloppy tea with a book of poetry.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080334"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Best paper by long chalks for a small ad. Got the provinces now.
<lb n="080335"/>Cook and general, exc. cuisine, housemaid kept. Wanted live man for spirit
<lb n="080336"/>counter. Resp. girl (R. C.) wishes to hear of post in fruit or pork shop.
<lb n="080337"/>James Carlisle made that. Six and a half per cent dividend. Made a big deal
<lb n="080338"/>on Coates's shares. Ca' canny. Cunning old Scotch hunks. All the toady
<lb n="080339"/>news. Our gracious and popular vicereine. Bought the <title type="newspaper">Irish Field</title> now.
<lb n="080340"/>Lady Mountcashel has quite recovered after her confinement and rode out
<lb n="080341"/>with the Ward Union staghounds at the enlargement yesterday at Rathoath.
<lb n="080342"/>Uneatable fox. Pothunters too. Fear injects juices make it tender enough for
<lb n="080343"/>them. Riding astride. Sit her horse like a man. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">>Weightcarrying</distinct> huntress. No
<lb n="080344"/>sidesaddle or pillion for her, not for Joe. First to the meet and in at the
<lb n="080345"/>death. Strong as a brood mare some of those horsey women. Swagger
<lb n="080346"/>around livery stables. Toss off a glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife.
<lb n="080347"/>That one at the Grosvenor this morning. Up with her on the car:
<lb n="080348"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">wishswish</distinct>. Stonewall or <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">fivebarred</distinct> gate put her mount to it. Think that
<lb n="080349"/><distinct type="compound">pugnosed</distinct> driver did it out of spite. Who is this she was like? O yes! Mrs
<lb n="080350"/>Miriam Dandrade that sold me her old wraps and black underclothes in the
<lb n="080351"/>Shelbourne hotel. Divorced Spanish American. Didn't take a feather out of
<lb n="080352"/>her my handling them. As if I was her <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">clotheshorse</distinct>. Saw her in the viceregal
<lb n="080353"/>party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in with Whelan of the <title type="newspaper">Express</title>.
<lb n="080354"/>Scavenging what the quality left. High tea. Mayonnaise I poured on the
<lb n="080355"/>plums thinking it was custard. Her ears ought to have tingled for a few
<lb n="080356"/>weeks after. Want to be a bull for her. Born courtesan. No nursery work
<lb n="080357"/>for her, thanks.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080358"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Poor Mrs Purefoy! Methodist husband. Method in his madness.
<lb n="080359"/>Saffron bun and milk and soda lunch in the educational dairy. Y. M. C. A.
<lb n="080360"/>Eating with a stopwatch, <distinct type="compound">thirtytwo</distinct> chews to the minute. And still his
<lb n="080361"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">muttonchop</distinct> whiskers grew. Supposed to be well connected. Theodore's
<lb n="080362"/>cousin in Dublin Castle. One tony relative in every family. Hardy annuals
<lb n="080363"/>he presents her with. Saw him out at the Three Jolly Topers marching along
<lb n="080364"/>bareheaded and his eldest boy carrying one in a <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">marketnet</distinct>. The squallers.
<lb n="080365"/>Poor thing! Then having to give the breast year after year all hours of the
<lb n="080366"/>night. Selfish those t.t's are. Dog in the manger. Only one lump of sugar in
<lb n="080367"/>my tea, if you please.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080368"/>He stood at Fleet street crossing. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Luncheon interval. A sixpenny at
<lb n="080369"/>Rowe's? Must look up that ad in the national library. An eightpenny in the
<lb n="080370"/>Burton. Better. On my way.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080371"/>He walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Tea. Tea. Tea. I
<lb n="080372"/>forgot to tap Tom Kernan.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080373"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Sss. Dth, dth, dth! Three days imagine groaning on a bed with a
<lb n="080374"/>vinegared handkerchief round her forehead, her belly swollen out. Phew!
<lb n="080375"/>Dreadful simply! Child's head too big: forceps. Doubled up inside her
<lb n="080376"/>trying to butt its way out blindly, groping for the way out. Kill me that
<lb n="080377"/>would. Lucky Molly got over hers lightly. They ought to invent something
<lb n="080378"/>to stop that. Life with hard labour. Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria was
<lb n="080379"/>given that. Nine she had. A good layer. Old woman that lived in a shoe she
<lb n="080380"/>had so many children. Suppose he was consumptive. Time someone thought
<lb n="080381"/>about it instead of gassing about the what was it the pensive bosom of the
<lb n="080382"/>silver effulgence. Flapdoodle to feed fools on. They could easily have big
<lb n="080383"/>establishments whole thing quite painless out of all the taxes give every child
<lb n="080384"/>born five quid at compound interest up to <distinct type="compound">twentyone</distinct> five per cent is a
<lb n="080385"/>hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal
<lb n="080386"/>system encourage people to put by money save hundred and ten and a bit
  <lb n="080387"/><distinct type="compound">twentyone</distinct> years want to work it out on paper come to a tidy sum more than
<lb n="080388"/>you think.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080389"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Not stillborn of course. They are not even registered. Trouble for
<lb n="080390"/>nothing.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080391"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Funny sight two of them together, their bellies out. Molly and Mrs
<lb n="080392"/>Moisel. Mothers' meeting. Phthisis retires for the time being, then returns.
<lb n="080393"/>How flat they look all of a sudden after. Peaceful eyes. Weight off their
<lb n="080394"/>mind. Old Mrs Thornton was a jolly old soul. All my babies, she said. The
<lb n="080395"/>spoon of pap in her mouth before she fed them. O, that's nyumnyum. Got
<lb n="080396"/>her hand crushed by old Tom Wall's son. His first bow to the public. Head
  <lb n="080397"/>like a prize pumpkin. <distinct type="archaism">Snuffy</distinct> Dr Murren. People knocking them up at all
<lb n="080398"/>hours. For God' sake, doctor. Wife in her throes. Then keep them waiting
<lb n="080399"/>months for their fee. To attendance on your wife. No gratitude in people.
<lb n="080400"/>Humane doctors, most of them.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080401"/>Before the huge high door of the Irish house of parliament a flock of
<lb n="080402"/>pigeons flew. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Their little frolic after meals. Who will we do it on? I pick the
<lb n="080403"/>fellow in black. Here goes. Here's good luck. Must be thrilling from the air.
<lb n="080404"/>Apjohn, myself and Owen Goldberg up in the trees near Goose green
<lb n="080405"/>playing the monkeys. Mackerel they called me.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080406"/>A squad of constables debouched from College street, marching in
<lb n="080407"/>Indian file. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Goosestep. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Foodheated</distinct> faces, sweating helmets, patting their
<lb n="080408"/>truncheons. After their feed with a good load of fat soup under their belts.
<lb n="080409"/>Policeman's lot is oft a happy one. They split up in groups and scattered,
<lb n="080410"/>saluting, towards their beats. Let out to graze. Best moment to attack one in
<lb n="080411"/>pudding time. A punch in his dinner. A squad of others, marching
<lb n="080412"/>irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the station. Bound for their
<lb n="080413"/>troughs. Prepare to receive cavalry. Prepare to receive soup.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080414"/>He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger. <said who="lb" aloud="false">They did right to
<lb n="080415"/>put him up over a urinal: meeting of the waters. Ought to be places for
<lb n="080416"/>women. Running into <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">cakeshops</distinct>. Settle my hat straight. <quote>There is not in this
<lb n="080417"/>wide world a vallee.</quote> Great song of Julia Morkan's. Kept her voice up to the
<lb n="080418"/>very last. Pupil of Michael Balfe's, wasn't she?</said></p>
<p><lb n="080419"/>He gazed after the last broad tunic. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Nasty customers to tackle. Jack
<lb n="080420"/>Power could a tale unfold: father a G man. If a fellow gave them trouble
<lb n="080421"/>being lagged they let him have it hot and heavy in the <distinct type="archaism">bridewell</distinct>. Can't
<lb n="080422"/>blame them after all with the job they have especially the young hornies.
<lb n="080423"/>That <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">horsepoliceman</distinct> the day Joe Chamberlain was given his degree in
<lb n="080424"/>Trinity he got a run for his money. My word he did! His horse's hoofs
<lb n="080425"/>clattering after us down Abbey street. Lucky I had the presence of mind to
  <lb n="080426"/>dive into Manning's or I was <distinct type="dialect">souped</distinct>. He did come a wallop, by George.
<lb n="080427"/>Must have cracked his skull on the cobblestones. I oughtn't to have got
<lb n="080428"/>myself swept along with those medicals. And the Trinity jibs in their
<lb n="080429"/>mortarboards. Looking for trouble. Still I got to know that young Dixon
<lb n="080430"/>who dressed that sting for me in the Mater and now he's in Holles street
<lb n="080431"/>where Mrs Purefoy. Wheels within wheels. Police whistle in my ears still.
<lb n="080432"/>All skedaddled. Why he fixed on me. Give me in charge. Right here it
<lb n="080433"/>began.</said>
<lb n="080434"/><said who="uycs">―Up the Boers!</said>
<lb n="080435"/><said who="uycs">―Three cheers for De Wet!</said>
<lb n="080436"/><said who="uycs">―We'll hang Joe Chamberlain on a <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">sourapple</distinct> tree.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080437"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Silly billies: mob of young cubs yelling their guts out. Vinegar hill.
<lb n="080438"/>The Butter exchange band. Few years' time half of them magistrates and
<lb n="080439"/>civil servants. War comes on: into the army <distinct type="compound">helterskelter</distinct>: same fellows used
<lb n="080440"/>to. Whether on the scaffold high.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080441"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Never know who you're talking to. Corny Kelleher he has Harvey
<lb n="080442"/>Duff in his eye. Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff
<lb n="080443"/>on the invincibles. Member of the corporation too. Egging raw youths on to
<lb n="080444"/>get in the know all the time drawing secret service pay from the castle. Drop
<lb n="080445"/>him like a hot potato. Why those plainclothes men are always courting
  <lb n="080446"/><distinct type="dialect">slaveys</distinct>. Easily twig a man used to uniform. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Squarepushing</distinct> up against a
<lb n="080447"/>backdoor. Maul her a bit. Then the next thing on the menu. And who is the
<lb n="080448"/>gentleman does be visiting there? Was the young master saying anything?
<lb n="080449"/>Peeping Tom through the keyhole. Decoy duck. <distinct type="compound">Hotblooded</distinct> young student
<lb n="080450"/>fooling round her fat arms ironing.</said>
<lb n="080451"/><said who="uystud">―Are those yours, Mary?</said>
<lb n="080452"/><said who="msy">―I don't wear such things ..... Stop or I'll tell the missus on you. Out half
<lb n="080453"/>the night.</said>
<lb n="080454"/><said who="uystud">―There are great times coming, Mary. Wait till you see.</said>
<lb n="080455"/><said who="msy">―Ah, gelong with your great times coming.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080456"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Barmaids too. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Tobaccoshopgirls</distinct>.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080457"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">James Stephens' idea was the best. He knew them. Circles of ten so
<lb n="080458"/>that a fellow couldn't round on more than his own ring. Sinn Fein. Back
<lb n="080459"/>out you get the knife. Hidden hand. Stay in. The firing squad. Turnkey's
<lb n="080460"/>daughter got him out of Richmond, off from Lusk. Putting up in the
<lb n="080461"/>Buckingham Palace hotel under their very noses. Garibaldi.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080462"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">You must have a certain fascination: Parnell. Arthur Griffith is a
  <lb n="080463"/><distinct type="compound">squareheaded</distinct> fellow but he has no go in him for the mob. Or gas about our
<lb n="080464"/>lovely land. Gammon and spinach. Dublin Bakery Company's tearoom.
<lb n="080465"/>Debating societies. That republicanism is the best form of government.
<lb n="080466"/>That the language question should take precedence of the economic
<lb n="080467"/>question. Have your daughters inveigling them to your house. Stuff them
<lb n="080468"/>up with meat and drink. Michaelmas goose. Here's a good lump of thyme
<lb n="080469"/>seasoning under the apron for you. Have another quart of <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">goosegrease</distinct>
  <lb n="080470"/>before it gets too cold. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Halffed</distinct> enthusiasts. Penny roll and a walk with the
<lb n="080471"/>band. No grace for the carver. The thought that the other chap pays best
<lb n="080472"/>sauce in the world. Make themselves thoroughly at home. Show us over
<lb n="080473"/>those apricots, meaning peaches. The not far distant day. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Homerule</distinct> sun
<lb n="080474"/>rising up in the northwest.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080475"/>His smile faded as he walked, a heavy cloud hiding the sun slowly,
<lb n="080476"/>shadowing Trinity's surly front. Trams passed one another, ingoing,
<lb n="080477"/>outgoing, clanging. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Useless words. Things go on same, day after day:
<lb n="080478"/>squads of police marching out, back: trams in, out. Those two loonies
<lb n="080479"/>mooching about. Dignam carted off. Mina Purefoy swollen belly on a bed
<lb n="080480"/>groaning to have a child tugged out of her. One born every second
<lb n="080481"/>somewhere. Other dying every second. Since I fed the birds five minutes.
<lb n="080482"/>Three hundred kicked the bucket. Other three hundred born, washing the
<lb n="080483"/>blood off, all are washed in the blood of the lamb, bawling maaaaaa.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080484"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Cityful passing away, other cityful coming, passing away too: other
<lb n="080485"/>coming on, passing on. Houses, lines of houses, streets, miles of pavements,
  <lb n="080486"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">piledup</distinct> bricks, stones. Changing hands. This owner, that. Landlord never
<lb n="080487"/>dies they say. Other steps into his shoes when he gets his notice to quit.
<lb n="080488"/>They buy the place up with gold and still they have all the gold. Swindle in
<lb n="080489"/>it somewhere. Piled up in cities, worn away age after age. Pyramids in sand.
<lb n="080490"/>Built on bread and onions. Slaves Chinese wall. Babylon. Big stones left.
<lb n="080491"/>Round towers. Rest rubble, sprawling suburbs, jerrybuilt. Kerwan's
<lb n="080492"/>mushroom houses built of breeze. Shelter, for the night.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080493"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">No-one is anything.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080494"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">This is the very worst hour of the day. Vitality. Dull, gloomy: hate
<lb n="080495"/>this hour. Feel as if I had been eaten and spewed.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080496"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Provost's house. The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Well
<lb n="080497"/>tinned in there. Like a mortuary chapel. Wouldn't live in it if they paid me.
<lb n="080498"/>Hope they have liver and bacon today. Nature abhors a vacuum.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080499"/>The sun freed itself slowly and lit glints of light among the silverware
<lb n="080500"/>opposite in Walter Sexton's window by which John Howard Parnell passed,
<lb n="080501"/>unseeing.</p>
<p><lb n="080502"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">There he is: the brother. Image of him. Haunting face. Now that's a
<lb n="080503"/>coincidence. Course hundreds of times you think of a person and don't
<lb n="080504"/>meet him. Like a man walking in his sleep. No-one knows him. Must be a
<lb n="080505"/>corporation meeting today. They say he never put on the city marshal's
<lb n="080506"/>uniform since he got the job. Charley Kavanagh used to come out on his
<lb n="080507"/>high horse, cocked hat, puffed, powdered and shaved. Look at the
<lb n="080508"/>woebegone walk of him. Eaten a bad egg. Poached eyes on ghost. I have a
<lb n="080509"/>pain. Great man's brother: his brother's brother. He'd look nice on the city
<lb n="080510"/>charger. Drop into the D. B. C. probably for his coffee, play chess there.
<lb n="080511"/>His brother used men as pawns. Let them all go to pot. Afraid to pass a
<lb n="080512"/>remark on him. Freeze them up with that eye of his. That's the fascination:
<lb n="080513"/>the name. All a bit touched. Mad Fanny and his other sister Mrs Dickinson
<lb n="080514"/>driving about with scarlet harness. Bolt upright like surgeon M'Ardle. Still
<lb n="080515"/>David Sheehy beat him for south Meath. Apply for the Chiltern Hundreds
<lb n="080516"/>and retire into public life. The patriot's banquet. Eating <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">orangepeels</distinct> in the
<lb n="080517"/>park. Simon Dedalus said when they put him in parliament that Parnell
<lb n="080518"/>would come back from the grave and lead him out of the house of commons
<lb n="080519"/>by the arm.</said>
  <lb n="080520"/><said who="ae">―Of the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">twoheaded</distinct> octopus, one of whose heads is the head upon which
<lb n="080521"/>the ends of the world have forgotten to come while the other speaks with a
<lb n="080522"/>Scotch accent. The tentacles ....</said></p>
<p><lb n="080523"/>They passed from behind Mr Bloom along the curbstone. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Beard and
<lb n="080524"/>bicycle. Young woman.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080525"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">And there he is too. Now that's really a coincidence: second time.
<lb n="080526"/>Coming events cast their shadows before. With the approval of the eminent
<lb n="080527"/>poet, Mr Geo. Russell. That might be Lizzie Twigg with him. A. E.: what
<lb n="080528"/>does that mean? Initials perhaps. Albert Edward, Arthur Edmund,
<lb n="080529"/>Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire. What was he saying? The ends of the world
<lb n="080530"/>with a Scotch accent. Tentacles: octopus. Something occult: symbolism.
<lb n="080531"/>Holding forth. She's taking it all in. Not saying a word. To aid gentleman
<lb n="080532"/>in literary work.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080533"/>His eyes followed the high figure in homespun, beard and bicycle, a
<lb n="080534"/>listening woman at his side. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Coming from the vegetarian. Only
  <lb n="080535"/><distinct type="Joycean">weggebobbles</distinct> and fruit. Don't eat a beefsteak. If you do the eyes of that
<lb n="080536"/>cow will pursue you through all eternity. They say it's healthier.
<lb n="080537"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Windandwatery</distinct> though. Tried it. Keep you on the run all day. Bad as a
<lb n="080538"/>bloater. Dreams all night. Why do they call that thing they gave me
  <lb n="080539"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">nutsteak</distinct>? Nutarians. Fruitarians. To give you the idea you are eating
  <lb n="080540"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">rumpsteak</distinct>. Absurd. Salty too. They cook in soda. Keep you sitting by the
<lb n="080541"/>tap all night.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080542"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Her stockings are loose over her ankles. I detest that: so tasteless.
  <lb n="080543"/>Those literary <distinct type="archaism">etherial</distinct> people they are all. Dreamy, cloudy, symbolistic.
<lb n="080544"/>Esthetes they are. I wouldn't be surprised if it was that kind of food you see
<lb n="080545"/>produces the like waves of the brain the poetical. For example one of those
<lb n="080546"/>policemen sweating Irish stew into their shirts you couldn't squeeze a line
<lb n="080547"/>of poetry out of him. Don't know what poetry is even. Must be in a certain
<lb n="080548"/>mood.</said></p>
<lg rend="italics"><lb n="080549"/><said who="lb" aloud="false"><l>The dreamy cloudy gull</l>
<lb n="080550"/><l>Waves o'er the waters dull.</l></said></lg>
<p><lb n="080551"/>He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the window of
<lb n="080552"/>Yeates and Son, pricing the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">fieldglasses</distinct>. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Or will I drop into old Harris's and
<lb n="080553"/>have a chat with young Sinclair? <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Wellmannered</distinct> fellow. Probably at his
<lb n="080554"/>lunch. Must get those old glasses of mine set right. Goerz lenses six guineas.
<lb n="080555"/>Germans making their way everywhere. Sell on easy terms to capture trade.
<lb n="080556"/>Undercutting. Might chance on a pair in the railway lost property office.
<lb n="080557"/>Astonishing the things people leave behind them in trains and cloakrooms.
<lb n="080558"/>What do they be thinking about? Women too. Incredible. Last year
<lb n="080559"/>travelling to Ennis had to pick up that farmer's daughter's bag and hand it
<lb n="080560"/>to her at Limerick junction. Unclaimed money too. There's a little watch up
<lb n="080561"/>there on the roof of the bank to test those glasses by.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080562"/>His lids came down on the lower rims of his irides. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Can't see it. If you
<lb n="080563"/>imagine it's there you can almost see it. Can't see it.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080564"/>He faced about and, standing between the awnings, held out his right
<lb n="080565"/>hand at arm's length towards the sun. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Wanted to try that often. Yes:
<lb n="080566"/>completely. The tip of his little finger blotted out the sun's disk. Must be the
<lb n="080567"/>focus where the rays cross. If I had black glasses. Interesting. There was a
<lb n="080568"/>lot of talk about those sunspots when we were in Lombard street west.
<lb n="080569"/>Looking up from the back garden. Terrific explosions they are. There will
<lb n="080570"/>be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080571"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Now that I come to think of it that ball falls at Greenwich time. It's
<lb n="080572"/>the clock is worked by an electric wire from Dunsink. Must go out there
<lb n="080573"/>some first Saturday of the month. If I could get an introduction to professor
<lb n="080574"/>Joly or learn up something about his family. That would do to: man always
<lb n="080575"/>feels complimented. Flattery where least expected. Nobleman proud to be
<lb n="080576"/>descended from some king's mistress. His foremother. Lay it on with a
<lb n="080577"/>trowel. Cap in hand goes through the land. Not go in and blurt out what
<lb n="080578"/>you know you're not to: what's parallax? Show this gentleman the door.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080579"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Ah.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080580"/>His hand fell to his side again.</p>
<p><lb n="080581"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Never know anything about it. Waste of time. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Gasballs</distinct> spinning
<lb n="080582"/>about, crossing each other, passing. Same old dingdong always. Gas: then
<lb n="080583"/>solid: then world: then cold: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock,
<lb n="080584"/>like that pineapple rock. The moon. Must be a new moon out, she said. I
<lb n="080585"/>believe there is.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080586"/>He went on by la maison Claire.</p>
<p><lb n="080587"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Wait. The full moon was the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly
<lb n="080588"/>there is a new moon. Walking down by the Tolka. Not bad for a Fairview
<lb n="080589"/>moon. She was humming. The young May moon she's beaming, love. He
<lb n="080590"/>other side of her. Elbow, arm. He. Glowworm's la-amp is gleaming, love.
<lb n="080591"/>Touch. Fingers. Asking. Answer. Yes.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080592"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Stop. Stop. If it was it was. Must.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080593"/>Mr Bloom, <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">quickbreathing</distinct>, slowlier walking passed Adam court.</p>
<p><lb n="080594"/>With <said who="lb" aloud="false">ha quiet keep quiet</said> relief his eyes took note <said who="lb" aloud="false">this is the street here
<lb n="080595"/>middle of the day</said> of Bob Doran's bottle shoulders. <said who="lb" aloud="false">On his annual bend,
<lb n="080596"/>M'Coy said. They drink in order to say or do something or <foreign xml:lang="fr">cherchez la
<lb n="080597"/>femme</foreign>. Up in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then the
<lb n="080598"/>rest of the year sober as a judge.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080599"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Yes. Thought so. Sloping into the Empire. Gone. Plain soda would do
<lb n="080600"/>him good. Where Pat Kinsella had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran
<lb n="080601"/>the Queen's. Broth of a boy. Dion Boucicault business with his
  <lb n="080602"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">harvestmoon</distinct> face in a poky bonnet. Three Purty Maids from School. How
<lb n="080603"/>time flies, eh? Showing long red pantaloons under his skirts. Drinkers,
<lb n="080604"/>drinking, laughed spluttering, their drink against their breath. More power,
<lb n="080605"/>Pat. Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke. Take off that white
<lb n="080606"/>hat. His parboiled eyes. Where is he now? Beggar somewhere. The harp
<lb n="080607"/>that once did starve us all.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080608"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">I was happier then. Or was that I? Or am I now I? <distinct type="compound">Twentyeight</distinct> I was.
<lb n="080609"/>She <distinct type="compound">twentythree</distinct>. When we left Lombard street west something changed.
<lb n="080610"/>Could never like it again after Rudy. Can't bring back time. Like holding
<lb n="080611"/>water in your hand. Would you go back to then? Just beginning then.
<lb n="080612"/>Would you? Are you not happy in your home you poor little naughty boy?
<lb n="080613"/>Wants to sew on buttons for me. I must answer. Write it in the library.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080614"/>Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses. Muslin
<lb n="080615"/>prints, <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">silkdames</distinct> and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">hoofthuds</distinct> <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">lowringing</distinct>
<lb n="080616"/>in the baking causeway. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Thick feet that woman has in the white stockings.
<lb n="080617"/>Hope the rain mucks them up on her. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Countrybred</distinct> <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">chawbacon</distinct>. All the beef
<lb n="080618"/>to the heels were in. Always gives a woman clumsy feet. Molly looks out of
<lb n="080619"/>plumb.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080620"/>He passed, dallying, the windows of Brown Thomas, silk mercers.
<lb n="080621"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Cascades of ribbons. Flimsy China silks. A tilted urn poured from its mouth
<lb n="080622"/>a flood of <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">bloodhued</distinct> poplin: lustrous blood. The huguenots brought that
<lb n="080623"/>here. <quote xml:lang="it">Lacaus esant tara tara.</quote> Great chorus that. <quote>Taree tara.</quote> Must be washed
<lb n="080624"/>in rainwater. Meyerbeer. <quote>Tara: bom bom bom.</quote></said></p>
<p><lb n="080625"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Pincushions. I'm a long time threatening to buy one. Sticking them all
<lb n="080626"/>over the place. Needles in window curtains.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080627"/>He bared slightly his left forearm. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Scrape: nearly gone. Not today
<lb n="080628"/>anyhow. Must go back for that lotion. For her birthday perhaps.
<lb n="080629"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Junejulyaugseptember</distinct> eighth. Nearly three months off. Then she mightn't
<lb n="080630"/>like it. Women won't pick up pins. Say it cuts lo.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080631"/>Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk
<lb n="080632"/>stockings.</p>
<p><lb n="080633"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Useless to go back. Had to be. Tell me all.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080634"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">High voices. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Sunwarm</distinct> silk. Jingling harnesses. All for a woman,
  <lb n="080635"/>home and houses, <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">silkwebs</distinct>, silver, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa. Agendath
<lb n="080636"/>Netaim. Wealth of the world.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080637"/>A warm human plumpness settled down on his brain. His brain
<lb n="080638"/>yielded. Perfume of embraces all him assailed. With hungered flesh
<lb n="080639"/>obscurely, he mutely craved to adore.</p>
<p><lb n="080640"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Duke street. Here we are. Must eat. The Burton. Feel better then.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080641"/>He turned Combridge's corner, still pursued. Jingling, <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">hoofthuds</distinct>.
<lb n="080642"/>Perfumed bodies, warm, full. All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields,
<lb n="080643"/>tangled pressed grass, in trickling hallways of tenements, along sofas,
<lb n="080644"/>creaking beds.
<lb n="080645"/><said who="uls">―Jack, love!</said>
<lb n="080646"/><said who="uls">―Darling!</said>
<lb n="080647"/><said who="uls">―Kiss me, Reggy!</said>
<lb n="080648"/><said who="uls">―My boy!</said>
<lb n="080649"/><said who="uls">―Love!</said></p>
<p><lb n="080650"/>His heart astir he pushed in the door of the Burton restaurant. Stink
<lb n="080651"/>gripped his trembling breath: <said who="lb" aloud="false">pungent <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">meatjuice</distinct>, slush of greens. See the
<lb n="080652"/>animals feed.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080653"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Men, men, men.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080654"/>Perched on high stools by the bar, hats shoved back, at the tables
<lb n="080655"/>calling for more bread no charge, swilling, wolfing <distinct type="dialect">gobfuls</distinct> of sloppy food,
<lb n="080656"/>their eyes bulging, wiping wetted moustaches. A pallid <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">suetfaced</distinct> young man
<lb n="080657"/>polished his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his napkin. <said who="lb" aloud="false">New set of
<lb n="080658"/>microbes.</said> A man with an infant's <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">saucestained</distinct> napkin tucked round him
<lb n="080659"/>shovelled gurgling soup down his gullet. <said who="lb" aloud="false">A man spitting back on his plate:
<lb n="080660"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">halfmasticated</distinct> gristle: gums: no teeth to <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">chewchewchew</distinct> it. Chump chop
<lb n="080661"/>from the grill. Bolting to get it over. Sad <distinct type="dialect">booser's</distinct> eyes. Bitten off more than
<lb n="080662"/>he can chew. Am I like that? See ourselves as others see us. Hungry man is
<lb n="080663"/>an angry man. Working tooth and jaw. Don't! O! A bone! That last pagan
<lb n="080664"/>king of Ireland Cormac in the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">schoolpoem</distinct> choked himself at Sletty
<lb n="080665"/>southward of the Boyne. Wonder what he was eating. Something
  <lb n="080666"/><distinct type="dialect">galoptious</distinct>. Saint Patrick converted him to Christianity. Couldn't swallow it
<lb n="080667"/>all however.</said>
<lb n="080668"/><said who="bds">―Roast beef and cabbage.</said>
<lb n="080669"/><said who="bds">―One stew.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080670"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Smells of men.</said> Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">cigarettesmoke</distinct>,
<lb n="080671"/>reek of plug, spilt beer, men's beery piss, the stale of ferment.</p>
<p><lb n="080672"/>His gorge rose.</p>
<p><lb n="080673"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Couldn't eat a morsel here. Fellow sharpening knife and fork to eat
<lb n="080674"/>all before him, old chap picking his tootles. Slight spasm, full, chewing the
<lb n="080675"/>cud. Before and after. Grace after meals. Look on this picture then on that.
<lb n="080676"/>Scoffing up <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">stewgravy</distinct> with sopping sippets of bread. Lick it off the plate,
<lb n="080677"/>man! Get out of this.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080678"/>He gazed round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of
<lb n="080679"/>his nose.
<lb n="080680"/><said who="bds">―Two stouts here.</said>
<lb n="080681"/><said who="bds">―One corned and cabbage.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080682"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">That fellow ramming a <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">knifeful</distinct> of cabbage down as if his life
<lb n="080683"/>depended on it. Good stroke. Give me the fidgets to look. Safer to eat from
<lb n="080684"/>his three hands. Tear it limb from limb. Second nature to him. Born with a
<lb n="080685"/>silver knife in his mouth. That's witty, I think. Or no. Silver means born
<lb n="080686"/>rich. Born with a knife. But then the allusion is lost.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080687"/>An <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">illgirt</distinct> server gathered sticky clattering plates. Rock, the head
<lb n="080688"/>bailiff, standing at the bar blew the foamy crown from his tankard. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Well up:
<lb n="080689"/>it splashed yellow near his boot.</said> A diner, knife and fork upright, elbows on
<lb n="080690"/>table, ready for a second helping stared towards the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">foodlift</distinct> across his
<lb n="080691"/>stained square of newspaper. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Other chap telling him something with his
<lb n="080692"/>mouth full. Sympathetic listener. Table talk. I munched hum un thu
<lb n="080693"/>Unchster Bunk un Munchday. Ha? Did you, faith?</said></p>
<p><lb n="080694"/>Mr Bloom raised two fingers doubtfully to his lips. His eyes said:
<lb n="080695"/><said who="lb">―Not here. Don't see him.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080696"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Out. I hate dirty eaters.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080697"/>He backed towards the door. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's.
<lb n="080698"/>Stopgap. Keep me going. Had a good breakfast.</said>
<lb n="080699"/><said who="bds">―Roast and mashed here.</said>
<lb n="080700"/><said who="bds">―Pint of stout.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080701"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Every fellow for his own, tooth and nail. Gulp. Grub. Gulp. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Gobstuff</distinct>.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080702"/>He came out into clearer air and turned back towards Grafton street.
<lb n="080703"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Eat or be eaten. Kill! Kill!</said></p>
<p><lb n="080704"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Suppose that communal kitchen years to come perhaps. All trotting
  <lb n="080705"/>down with porringers and <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">tommycans</distinct> to be filled. Devour contents in the
<lb n="080706"/>street. John Howard Parnell example the provost of Trinity every mother's
<lb n="080707"/>son don't talk of your provosts and provost of Trinity women and children
<lb n="080708"/>cabmen priests parsons <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">fieldmarshals</distinct> archbishops. From Ailesbury road,
<lb n="080709"/>Clyde road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union, lord mayor in his
<lb n="080710"/>gingerbread coach, old queen in a <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">bathchair</distinct>. My plate's empty. After you
  <lb n="080711"/>with our incorporated <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">drinkingcup</distinct>. Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain.
<lb n="080712"/>Rub off the microbes with your handkerchief. Next chap rubs on a new
<lb n="080713"/>batch with his. Father O'Flynn would make hares of them all. Have rows
<lb n="080714"/>all the same. All for number one. Children fighting for the scrapings of the
  <lb n="080715"/>pot. Want a <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">souppot</distinct> as big as the Phoenix park. Harpooning flitches and
<lb n="080716"/>hindquarters out of it. Hate people all round you. City Arms hotel <foreign xml:lang="fr">table
<lb n="080717"/>d'hôte</foreign> she called it. Soup, joint and sweet. Never know whose thoughts
<lb n="080718"/>you're chewing. Then who'd wash up all the plates and forks? Might be all
<lb n="080719"/>feeding on tabloids that time. Teeth getting worse and worse.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080720"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">After all there's a lot in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from the
<lb n="080721"/>earth garlic of course it stinks after Italian <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">organgrinders</distinct> crisp of onions
<lb n="080722"/>mushrooms truffles. Pain to the animal too. Pluck and draw fowl.
<lb n="080723"/>Wretched brutes there at the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">cattlemarket</distinct> waiting for the poleaxe to split
<lb n="080724"/>their skulls open. Moo. Poor trembling calves. Meh. Staggering bob. Bubble
<lb n="080725"/>and squeak. Butchers' buckets wobbly lights. Give us that brisket off the
  <lb n="080726"/>hook. Plup. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Rawhead</distinct> and bloody bones. Flayed <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">glasseyed</distinct> sheep hung from
<lb n="080727"/>their haunches, <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">sheepsnouts</distinct> <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">bloodypapered</distinct> snivelling <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">nosejam</distinct> on sawdust.
<lb n="080728"/>Top and lashers going out. Don't maul them pieces, young one.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080729"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. Blood always needed.
<lb n="080730"/>Insidious. Lick it up <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">smokinghot</distinct>, thick sugary. Famished ghosts.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080731"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Ah, I'm hungry.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080732"/>He entered Davy Byrne's. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Moral pub. He doesn't chat. Stands a
<lb n="080733"/>drink now and then. But in <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">leapyear</distinct> once in four. Cashed a cheque for me
<lb n="080734"/>once.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080735"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">What will I take now?</said> He drew his watch. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Let me see now.
<lb n="080736"/>Shandygaff?</said>
<lb n="080737"/><said who="nf">―Hello, Bloom,</said> Nosey Flynn said from his nook.
<lb n="080738"/><said who="lb">―Hello, Flynn.</said>
<lb n="080739"/><said who="nf">―How's things?</said>
<lb n="080740"/><said who="lb">―Tiptop ... Let me see. I'll take a glass of burgundy and ... let me see.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080741"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Sardines on the shelves. Almost taste them by looking. Sandwich?
  <lb n="080742"/>Ham and his descendants <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">musterred</distinct> and bred there. Potted meats. What is
<lb n="080743"/>home without Plumtree's potted meat? Incomplete. What a stupid ad!
<lb n="080744"/>Under the obituary notices they stuck it. All up a plumtree. Dignam's
<lb n="080745"/>potted meat. Cannibals would with lemon and rice. White missionary too
<lb n="080746"/>salty. Like pickled pork. Expect the chief consumes the parts of honour.
<lb n="080747"/>Ought to be tough from exercise. His wives in a row to watch the effect.
<lb n="080748"/><q>There was a right royal old nigger. Who ate or something the somethings of
<lb n="080749"/>the reverend Mr MacTrigger.</q> With it an abode of bliss. Lord knows what
<lb n="080750"/>concoction. Cauls mouldy tripes windpipes faked and minced up. Puzzle
<lb n="080751"/>find the meat. Kosher. No meat and milk together. Hygiene that was what
<lb n="080752"/>they call now. Yom Kippur fast spring cleaning of inside. Peace and war
<lb n="080753"/>depend on some fellow's digestion. Religions. Christmas turkeys and geese.
<lb n="080754"/>Slaughter of innocents. Eat drink and be merry. Then casual wards full
<lb n="080755"/>after. Heads bandaged. Cheese digests all but itself. Mity cheese.</said>
<lb n="080756"/><said who="lb">―Have you a cheese sandwich?</said>
<lb n="080757"/><said who="dbc">―Yes, sir.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080758"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Like a few olives too if they had them. Italian I prefer. Good glass of
<lb n="080759"/>burgundy take away that. Lubricate. A nice salad, cool as a cucumber, Tom
<lb n="080760"/>Kernan can dress. Puts gusto into it. Pure olive oil. Milly served me that
<lb n="080761"/>cutlet with a sprig of parsley. Take one Spanish onion. God made food, the
<lb n="080762"/>devil the cooks. Devilled crab.</said>
<lb n="080763"/><said who="nf">―Wife well?</said>
<lb n="080764"/><said who="lb">―Quite well, thanks .... A cheese sandwich, then. Gorgonzola, have you?</said>
<lb n="080765"/><said who="dbc">―Yes, sir.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080766"/>Nosey Flynn sipped his grog.
<lb n="080767"/><said who="nf">―Doing any singing those times?</said></p>
<p><lb n="080768"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Look at his mouth. Could whistle in his own ear. Flap ears to match.
<lb n="080769"/>Music. Knows as much about it as my coachman. Still better tell him. Does
<lb n="080770"/>no harm. Free ad.</said>
<lb n="080771"/><said who="lb">―She's engaged for a big tour end of this month. You may have heard
<lb n="080772"/>perhaps.</said>
<lb n="080773"/><said who="nf">―No. O, that's the style. Who's getting it up?</said></p>
<p><lb n="080774"/>The curate served.
<lb n="080775"/><said who="lb">―How much is that?</said>
<lb n="080776"/><said who="dbc">―Seven d, sir .... Thank you, sir.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080777"/>Mr Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips. <said who="lb" aloud="false"><q>Mr MacTrigger.</q> Easier
<lb n="080778"/>than the dreamy creamy stuff. <q>His five hundred wives. Had the time of their
<lb n="080779"/>lives.</q></said>
<lb n="080780"/><said who="dbc">―Mustard, sir?</said>
<lb n="080781"/><said who="lb">―Thank you.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080782"/>He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs. <said who="lb" aloud="false"><q>Their lives.</q> I have it.
<lb n="080783"/><q>It grew bigger and bigger and bigger.</q></said>
<lb n="080784"/><said who="lb">―Getting it up?</said> he said. <said who="lb">Well, it's like a company idea, you see. Part shares
<lb n="080785"/>and part profits.</said>
<lb n="080786"/><said who="nf">―Ay, now I remember,</said> Nosey Flynn said, putting his hand in his pocket to
<lb n="080787"/>scratch his groin. <said who="nf">Who is this was telling me? Isn't Blazes Boylan mixed up
<lb n="080788"/>in it?</said></p>
  <p><lb n="080789"/>A warm shock of air heat of mustard <distinct type="dialect">hanched</distinct> on Mr Bloom's heart.
<lb n="080790"/>He raised his eyes and met the stare of a bilious clock. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Two. Pub clock five
<lb n="080791"/>minutes fast. Time going on. Hands moving. Two. Not yet.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080792"/>His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, yearned more
<lb n="080793"/>longly, longingly.</p>
<p><lb n="080794"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Wine.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080795"/>He <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">smellsipped</distinct> the cordial juice and, bidding his throat strongly to
<lb n="080796"/>speed it, set his wineglass delicately down.
<lb n="080797"/><said who="lb">―Yes,</said> he said. <said who="lb">He's the organiser in point of fact.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080798"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">No fear: no brains.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080799"/>Nosey Flynn snuffled and scratched. Flea having a good square meal.
<lb n="080800"/><said who="nf">―He had a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me, over that
  <lb n="080801"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">boxingmatch</distinct> Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the Portobello
<lb n="080802"/>barracks. By God, he had the little kipper down in the county Carlow he
<lb n="080803"/>was telling me ...</said></p>
<p><lb n="080804"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into his glass. No, snuffled it
<lb n="080805"/>up.</said>
<lb n="080806"/><said who="nf">―For near a month, man, before it came off. Sucking duck eggs by God till
<lb n="080807"/>further orders. Keep him off the boose, see? O, by God, Blazes is a hairy
<lb n="080808"/>chap.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080809"/>Davy Byrne came forward from the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">hindbar</distinct> in <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">tuckstitched</distinct>
<lb n="080810"/>shirtsleeves, cleaning his lips with two wipes of his napkin. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Herring's blush.
<lb n="080811"/>Whose smile upon each feature plays with such and such replete. Too much
<lb n="080812"/>fat on the parsnips.</said>
<lb n="080813"/><said who="nf">―And here's himself and pepper on him,</said> Nosey Flynn said. <said who="nf">Can you give
<lb n="080814"/>us a good one for the Gold cup?</said>
<lb n="080815"/><said who="db">―I'm off that, Mr Flynn,</said> Davy Byrne answered. <said who="db">I never put anything on a
<lb n="080816"/>horse.</said>
<lb n="080817"/><said who="nf">―You're right there,</said> Nosey Flynn said.</p>
<p><lb n="080818"/>Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, fresh clean bread, with relish of
<lb n="080819"/>disgust pungent mustard, the feety savour of green cheese. Sips of his wine
<lb n="080820"/>soothed his palate. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Not logwood that. Tastes fuller this weather with the
<lb n="080821"/>chill off.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080822"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Nice quiet bar. Nice piece of wood in that counter. Nicely planed.
<lb n="080823"/>Like the way it curves there.</said>
<lb n="080824"/><said who="db">―I wouldn't do anything at all in that line,</said> Davy Byrne said. <said who="db">It ruined
<lb n="080825"/>many a man, the same horses.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080826"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Vintners' sweepstake. Licensed for the sale of beer, wine and spirits
<lb n="080827"/>for consumption on the premises. Heads I win tails you lose.</said>
<lb n="080828"/><said who="nf">―True for you,</said> Nosey Flynn said. <said who="nf">Unless you're in the know. There's no
<lb n="080829"/>straight sport going now. Lenehan gets some good ones. He's giving
<lb n="080830"/><name type="horse" rend="none">Sceptre</name> today. <name type="horse" rend="none">Zinfandel</name>'s the favourite, lord Howard de Walden's, won at
<lb n="080831"/>Epsom. Morny Cannon is riding him. I could have got seven to one against
<lb n="080832"/><name type="horse" rend="none">Saint Amant</name> a fortnight before.</said>
<lb n="080833"/><said who="db">―That so?</said> Davy Byrne said.</p>
<p><lb n="080834"/>He went towards the window and, taking up the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">pettycash</distinct> book,
<lb n="080835"/>scanned its pages.
<lb n="080836"/><said who="nf">―I could, faith,</said> Nosey Flynn said, snuffling. <said who="nf">That was a rare bit of
<lb n="080837"/>horseflesh. <name type="horse" rend="none">Saint Frusquin</name> was her sire. She won in a thunderstorm,
<lb n="080838"/>Rothschild's filly, with wadding in her ears. Blue jacket and yellow cap.
<lb n="080839"/>Bad luck to big Ben Dollard and his John O'Gaunt. He put me off it. Ay.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080840"/>He drank resignedly from his tumbler, running his fingers down the
<lb n="080841"/>flutes.
<lb n="080842"/><said who="nf">―Ay,</said> he said, sighing.</p>
<p><lb n="080843"/>Mr Bloom, champing, standing, looked upon his sigh. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Nosey
<lb n="080844"/>numbskull. Will I tell him that horse Lenehan? He knows already. Better let
<lb n="080845"/>him forget. Go and lose more. Fool and his money. Dewdrop coming down
<lb n="080846"/>again. Cold nose he'd have kissing a woman. Still they might like. Prickly
<lb n="080847"/>beards they like. Dogs' cold noses. Old Mrs Riordan with the rumbling
<lb n="080848"/>stomach's Skye terrier in the City Arms hotel. Molly fondling him in her
<lb n="080849"/>lap. O, the big doggybowwowsywowsy!</said></p>
<p><lb n="080850"/>Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread mustard a moment
<lb n="080851"/><distinct type="archaism">mawkish</distinct> cheese. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Nice wine it is. Taste it better because I'm not thirsty. Bath
<lb n="080852"/>of course does that. Just a bite or two. Then about six o'clock I can. Six.
<lb n="080853"/>Six. Time will be gone then. She.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080854"/>Mild fire of wine kindled his veins. <said who="lb" aloud="false">I wanted that badly. Felt so off
<lb n="080855"/>colour.</said> His eyes unhungrily saw shelves of tins: sardines, gaudy lobsters'
<lb n="080856"/>claws. <said who="lb" aloud="false">All the odd things people pick up for food. Out of shells, periwinkles
<lb n="080857"/>with a pin, off trees, snails out of the ground the French eat, out of the sea
<lb n="080858"/>with bait on a hook. Silly fish learn nothing in a thousand years. If you
<lb n="080859"/>didn't know risky putting anything into your mouth. Poisonous berries.
<lb n="080860"/>Johnny Magories. Roundness you think good. Gaudy colour warns you
<lb n="080861"/>off. One fellow told another and so on. Try it on the dog first. Led on by the
<lb n="080862"/>smell or the look. Tempting fruit. Ice cones. Cream. Instinct. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Orangegroves</distinct>
<lb n="080863"/>for instance. Need artificial irrigation. Bleibtreustrasse. Yes but what about
<lb n="080864"/>oysters. Unsightly like a clot of phlegm. Filthy shells. Devil to open them
<lb n="080865"/>too. Who found them out? Garbage, sewage they feed on. Fizz and Red
<lb n="080866"/>bank oysters. Effect on the sexual. Aphrodis. He was in the Red Bank this
<lb n="080867"/>morning. Was he oysters old fish at table perhaps he young flesh in bed no
<lb n="080868"/>June has no ar no oysters. But there are people like things high. Tainted
<lb n="080869"/>game. Jugged hare. First catch your hare. Chinese eating eggs fifty years
<lb n="080870"/>old, blue and green again. Dinner of thirty courses. Each dish harmless
<lb n="080871"/>might mix inside. Idea for a poison mystery. That archduke Leopold was it
<lb n="080872"/>no yes or was it Otto one of those Habsburgs? Or who was it used to eat
<lb n="080873"/>the scruff off his own head? Cheapest lunch in town. Of course aristocrats,
<lb n="080874"/>then the others copy to be in the fashion. Milly too rock oil and flour. Raw
<lb n="080875"/>pastry I like myself. Half the catch of oysters they throw back in the sea to
<lb n="080876"/>keep up the price. Cheap no-one would buy. Caviare. Do the grand. Hock
<lb n="080877"/>in green glasses. Swell blowout. Lady this. Powdered bosom pearls. The
<lb n="080878"/><foreign xml:lang="fr">élite</foreign>. <foreign xml:lang="fr">Crème de la crème.</foreign> They want special dishes to pretend they're.
<lb n="080879"/>Hermit with a platter of pulse keep down the stings of the flesh. Know me
<lb n="080880"/>come eat with me. Royal sturgeon high sheriff, Coffey, the butcher, right to
<lb n="080881"/>venisons of the forest from his ex. Send him back the half of a cow. Spread
<lb n="080882"/>I saw down in the Master of the Rolls' kitchen area. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Whitehatted</distinct> <foreign xml:lang="fr">chef</foreign> like a
<lb n="080883"/>rabbi. Combustible duck. Curly cabbage <foreign xml:lang="fr">à la duchesse de Parme</foreign>. Just as
<lb n="080884"/>well to write it on the bill of fare so you can know what you've eaten. Too
<lb n="080885"/>many drugs spoil the broth. I know it myself. Dosing it with Edwards'
<lb n="080886"/>desiccated soup. Geese stuffed silly for them. Lobsters boiled alive. Do
<lb n="080887"/>ptake some ptarmigan. Wouldn't mind being a waiter in a swell hotel. Tips,
<lb n="080888"/>evening dress, <distinct type="compound">halfnaked</distinct> ladies. May I tempt you to a little more filleted
<lb n="080889"/>lemon sole, miss Dubedat? Yes, do bedad. And she did bedad. Huguenot
<lb n="080890"/>name I expect that. A miss Dubedat lived in Killiney, I remember. <foreign xml:lang="fr">Du de la</foreign>
<lb n="080891"/>French. Still it's the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street
<lb n="080892"/>ripped the guts out of making money hand over fist finger in fishes' gills
<lb n="080893"/>can't write his name on a cheque think he was painting the landscape with
<lb n="080894"/>his mouth twisted. Moooikill A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a kish of brogues,
<lb n="080895"/>worth fifty thousand pounds.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080896"/>Stuck on the pane two flies buzzed, stuck.</p>
<p><lb n="080897"/>Glowing wine on his palate lingered swallowed. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Crushing in the
<lb n="080898"/>winepress grapes of Burgundy. Sun's heat it is. Seems to a secret touch
<lb n="080899"/>telling me memory. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Touched his sense moistened remembered.</said> Hidden
<lb n="080900"/>under wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. No sound. The sky.
<lb n="080901"/>The bay purple by the Lion's head. Green by Drumleck. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Yellowgreen</distinct>
<lb n="080902"/>towards Sutton. Fields of undersea, the lines faint brown in grass, buried
<lb n="080903"/>cities. Pillowed on my coat she had her hair, earwigs in the heather scrub
<lb n="080904"/>my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. O wonder! <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Coolsoft</distinct> with
<lb n="080905"/>ointments her hand touched me, caressed: her eyes upon me did not turn
<lb n="080906"/>away. Ravished over her I lay, full lips full open, kissed her mouth. Yum.
<lb n="080907"/>Softly she gave me in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. <distinct type="archaism">Mawkish</distinct>
<lb n="080908"/>pulp her mouth had mumbled <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">sweetsour</distinct> of her spittle. Joy: I ate it: joy.
<lb n="080909"/>Young life, her lips that gave me pouting. Soft warm sticky <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">gumjelly</distinct> lips.
<lb n="080910"/>Flowers her eyes were, take me, willing eyes. Pebbles fell. She lay still. A
<lb n="080911"/>goat. No-one. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">nannygoat</distinct> walking
<lb n="080912"/>surefooted, dropping currants. Screened under ferns she laughed
<lb n="080913"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">warmfolded</distinct>. Wildly I lay on her, kissed her: eyes, her lips, her stretched
<lb n="080914"/>neck beating, woman's breasts full in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples
<lb n="080915"/>upright. Hot I tongued her. She kissed me. I was kissed. All yielding she
<lb n="080916"/>tossed my hair. Kissed, she kissed me.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080917"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Me. And me now.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080918"/>Stuck, the flies buzzed.</p>
<p><lb n="080919"/>His downcast eyes followed the silent veining of the oaken slab.
<lb n="080920"/>Beauty: <said who="lb" aloud="false">it curves: curves are beauty. Shapely goddesses, Venus, Juno:
<lb n="080921"/>curves the world admires. Can see them library museum standing in the
<lb n="080922"/>round hall, naked goddesses. Aids to digestion. They don't care what man
<lb n="080923"/>looks. All to see. Never speaking. I mean to say to fellows like Flynn.
<lb n="080924"/>Suppose she did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first? Mortal!
<lb n="080925"/>Put you in your proper place. Quaffing nectar at mess with gods golden
<lb n="080926"/>dishes, all ambrosial. Not like a tanner lunch we have, boiled mutton,
<lb n="080927"/>carrots and turnips, bottle of Allsop. Nectar imagine it drinking electricity:
<lb n="080928"/>gods' food. Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian. Immortal lovely.
<lb n="080929"/>And we stuffing food in one hole and out behind: food, chyle, blood, dung,
<lb n="080930"/>earth, food: have to feed it like stoking an engine. They have no. Never
<lb n="080931"/>looked. I'll look today. Keeper won't see. Bend down let something drop.
<lb n="080932"/>See if she.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080933"/>Dribbling a quiet message from his bladder came to go to do not to do
<lb n="080934"/>there to do. A man and ready he drained his glass to the lees and walked, to
<lb n="080935"/>men too they gave themselves, manly conscious, lay with men lovers, a
<lb n="080936"/>youth enjoyed her, to the yard.</p>
<p><lb n="080937"/>When the sound of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne said from his
<lb n="080938"/>book:
<lb n="080939"/><said who="db">―What is this he is? Isn't he in the insurance line?</said>
<lb n="080940"/><said who="nf">―He's out of that long ago,</said> Nosey Flynn said. <said who="nf">He does canvassing for the
<lb n="080941"/><title type="newspaper">Freeman</title>.</said>
<lb n="080942"/><said who="db">―I know him well to see,</said> Davy Byrne said. <said who="db">Is he in trouble?</said>
<lb n="080943"/><said who="nf">―Trouble?</said> Nosey Flynn said. <said who="nf">Not that I heard of. Why?</said>
<lb n="080944"/><said who="db">―I noticed he was in mourning.</said>
<lb n="080945"/><said who="nf">―Was he?</said> Nosey Flynn said. <said who="nf">So he was, faith. I asked him how was all at
<lb n="080946"/>home. You're right, by God. So he was.</said>
<lb n="080947"/><said who="db">―I never broach the subject,</said> Davy Byrne said humanely, <said who="db">if I see a
<lb n="080948"/>gentleman is in trouble that way. It only brings it up fresh in their minds.</said>
<lb n="080949"/><said who="nf">―It's not the wife anyhow,</said> Nosey Flynn said. <said who="nf">I met him the day before
<lb n="080950"/>yesterday and he coming out of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's
<lb n="080951"/>wife has in Henry street with a jar of cream in his hand taking it home to
<lb n="080952"/>his better half. She's well nourished, I tell you. Plovers on toast.</said>
<lb n="080953"/><said who="db">―And is he doing for the <title type="newspaper">Freeman</title>?</said> Davy Byrne said.</p>
<p><lb n="080954"/>Nosey Flynn pursed his lips.
<lb n="080955"/><said who="nf">―He doesn't buy cream on the ads he picks up. You can make bacon of
<lb n="080956"/>that.</said>
<lb n="080957"/><said who="db">―How so?</said> Davy Byrne asked, coming from his book.</p>
<p><lb n="080958"/>Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the air with juggling fingers. He
<lb n="080959"/>winked.
<lb n="080960"/><said who="nf">―He's in the craft,</said> he said.
<lb n="080961"/><said who="db">―Do you tell me so?</said> Davy Byrne said.
<lb n="080962"/><said who="nf">―Very much so,</said> Nosey Flynn said. <said who="nf">Ancient free and accepted order. He's
<lb n="080963"/>an excellent brother. Light, life and love, by God. They give him a leg up. I
<lb n="080964"/>was told that by a – well, I won't say who.</said>
<lb n="080965"/><said who="db">―Is that a fact?</said>
<lb n="080966"/><said who="nf">―O, it's a fine order,</said> Nosey Flynn said. <said who="nf">They stick to you when you're
<lb n="080967"/>down. I know a fellow was trying to get into it. But they're as close as damn
<lb n="080968"/>it. By God they did right to keep the women out of it.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080969"/>Davy Byrne <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">smiledyawnednodded</distinct> all in one:
<lb n="080970"/><said who="db">―Iiiiiichaaaaaaach!</said>
<lb n="080971"/><said who="nf">―There was one woman,</said> Nosey Flynn said, <said who="nf">hid herself in a clock to find
<lb n="080972"/>out what they do be doing. But be damned but they smelt her out and swore
<lb n="080973"/>her in on the spot a master mason. That was one of the saint Legers of
<lb n="080974"/>Doneraile.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080975"/>Davy Byrne, sated after his yawn, said with <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">tearwashed</distinct> eyes:
<lb n="080976"/><said who="db">―And is that a fact? Decent quiet man he is. I often saw him in here and I
<lb n="080977"/>never once saw him – you know, over the line.</said>
<lb n="080978"/><said who="nf">―God Almighty couldn't make him drunk,</said> Nosey Flynn said firmly. <said who="nf">Slips
<lb n="080979"/>off when the fun gets too hot. Didn't you see him look at his watch? Ah,
<lb n="080980"/>you weren't there. If you ask him to have a drink first thing he does he outs
<lb n="080981"/>with the watch to see what he ought to imbibe. Declare to God he does.</said>
<lb n="080982"/><said who="db">―There are some like that,</said> Davy Byrne said. <said who="db">He's a safe man, I'd say.</said>
<lb n="080983"/><said who="nf">―He's not too bad,</said> Nosey Flynn said, snuffling it up. <said who="nf">He's been known to
<lb n="080984"/>put his hand down too to help a fellow. Give the devil his due. O, Bloom has
<lb n="080985"/>his good points. But there's one thing he'll never do.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080986"/>His hand scrawled a dry pen signature beside his grog.
<lb n="080987"/><said who="db">―I know,</said> Davy Byrne said.
<lb n="080988"/><said who="nf">―Nothing in black and white,</said> Nosey Flynn said.</p>
<p><lb n="080989"/>Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons came in. Tom Rochford followed
<lb n="080990"/>frowning, a plaining hand on his claret waistcoat.
<lb n="080991"/><said who="unclear: Leonard Lyons or Rochford (or all three?)">―Day, Mr Byrne.</said>
<lb n="080992"/><said who="db">―Day, gentlemen.</said></p>
<p><lb n="080993"/>They paused at the counter.
<lb n="080994"/><said who="pl">―Who's standing?</said> Paddy Leonard asked.
<lb n="080995"/><said who="nf">―I'm sitting anyhow,</said> Nosey Flynn answered.
<lb n="080996"/><said who="pl">―Well, what'll it be?</said> Paddy Leonard asked.
<lb n="080997"/><said who="bl">―I'll take a stone ginger,</said> Bantam Lyons said.
<lb n="080998"/><said who="pl">―How much?</said> Paddy Leonard cried. <said who="pl">Since when, for God' sake? What's
<lb n="080999"/>yours, Tom?</said>
<lb n="081000"/><said who="nf">―How is the main drainage?</said> Nosey Flynn asked, sipping.</p>
<p><lb n="081001"/>For answer Tom Rochford pressed his hand to his breastbone and
<lb n="081002"/>hiccupped.
<lb n="081003"/><said who="tr">―Would I trouble you for a glass of fresh water, Mr Byrne?</said> he said.
<lb n="081004"/><said who="db">―Certainly, sir.</said></p>
  <p><lb n="081005"/>Paddy Leonard eyed his <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">alemates</distinct>.
<lb n="081006"/><said who="pl">―Lord love a duck,</said> he said. <said who="pl">Look at what I'm standing drinks to! Cold
    <lb n="081007"/>water and <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">gingerpop</distinct>! Two fellows that would suck whisky off a sore leg.
<lb n="081008"/>He has some bloody horse up his sleeve for the Gold cup. A dead snip.</said>
<lb n="081009"/><said who="nf">―<name type="horse" rend="none">Zinfandel</name> is it?</said> Nosey Flynn asked.</p>
<p><lb n="081010"/>Tom Rochford spilt powder from a twisted paper into the water set
<lb n="081011"/>before him.
<lb n="081012"/><said who="tr">―That cursed dyspepsia,</said> he said before drinking.
  <lb n="081013"/><said who="db">―<distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Breadsoda</distinct> is very good,</said> Davy Byrne said.</p>
<p><lb n="081014"/>Tom Rochford nodded and drank.
<lb n="081015"/><said who="unclear: likely Nosey Flynn">―Is it <name type="horse" rend="none">Zinfandel?</name></said>
<lb n="081016"/><said who="bl">―Say nothing!</said> Bantam Lyons winked. <said who="bl">I'm going to plunge five bob on my
<lb n="081017"/>own.</said>
<lb n="081018"/><said who="pl">―Tell us if you're worth your salt and be damned to you,</said> Paddy Leonard
<lb n="081019"/>said. <said who="pl">Who gave it to you?</said></p>
<p><lb n="081020"/>Mr Bloom on his way out raised three fingers in greeting.
<lb n="081021"/><said who="nf">―So long!</said> Nosey Flynn said.</p>
<p><lb n="081022"/>The others turned.
<lb n="081023"/><said who="bl">―That's the man now that gave it to me,</said> Bantam Lyons whispered.
<lb n="081024"/><said who="pl">―Prrwht!</said> Paddy Leonard said with scorn. <said who="pl">Mr Byrne, sir, we'll take two of
<lb n="081025"/>your small Jamesons after that and a ....</said>
<lb n="081026"/><said who="db">―Stone ginger,</said> Davy Byrne added civilly.
<lb n="081027"/><said who="pl">―Ay,</said> Paddy Leonard said. <said who="pl">A <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">suckingbottle</distinct> for the baby.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081028"/>Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, his tongue brushing his
<lb n="081029"/>teeth smooth. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Something green it would have to be: spinach, say. Then with
<lb n="081030"/>those Röntgen rays searchlight you could.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081031"/>At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a sick knuckly cud on the
<lb n="081032"/>cobblestones and lapped it with new zest. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Surfeit. Returned with thanks
<lb n="081033"/>having fully digested the contents. First sweet then savoury.</said> Mr Bloom
<lb n="081034"/>coasted warily. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Ruminants. His second course. Their upper jaw they move.
<lb n="081035"/>Wonder if Tom Rochford will do anything with that invention of his?
<lb n="081036"/>Wasting time explaining it to Flynn's mouth. Lean people long mouths.
<lb n="081037"/>Ought to be a hall or a place where inventors could go in and invent free.
<lb n="081038"/>Course then you'd have all the cranks pestering.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081039"/>He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the bars:
<quote xml:lang="it"><lb n="081040"/><said who="lb">―Don Giovanni, a cenar teco
<lb n="081041"/>M'invitasti.</said></quote></p>
<p><lb n="081042"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Feel better. Burgundy. Good pick me up. Who distilled first? Some
<lb n="081043"/>chap in the blues. Dutch courage. That <title type="newspaper">Kilkenny People</title> in the national
<lb n="081044"/>library now I must.</said></p>
  <p><lb n="081045"/>Bare clean <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">closestools</distinct> waiting in the window of William Miller,
<lb n="081046"/>plumber, turned back his thoughts. <said who="lb" aloud="false">They could: and watch it all the way
<lb n="081047"/>down, swallow a pin sometimes come out of the ribs years after, tour round
<lb n="081048"/>the body changing biliary duct spleen squirting liver gastric juice coils of
<lb n="081049"/>intestines like pipes. But the poor buffer would have to stand all the time
<lb n="081050"/>with his insides entrails on show. Science.</said>
<lb n="081051"/><said who="lb">―<quote xml:lang="it">A cenar teco.</quote></said></p>
<p><lb n="081052"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">What does that <quote xml:lang="it">teco</quote> mean? Tonight perhaps.</said>
<lb n="081053"/><said who="lb">―<q>Don Giovanni, thou hast me invited
<lb n="081054"/>To come to supper tonight,
<lb n="081055"/>The rum the rumdum.</q></said></p>
<p><lb n="081056"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Doesn't go properly.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081057"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Keyes: two months if I get Nannetti to. That'll be two pounds ten
<lb n="081058"/>about two pounds eight. Three Hynes owes me. Two eleven. Prescott's
  <lb n="081059"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">dyeworks</distinct> van over there. If I get Billy Prescott's ad: two fifteen. Five
<lb n="081060"/>guineas about. On the pig's back.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081061"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Could buy one of those silk petticoats for Molly, colour of her new
<lb n="081062"/>garters.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081063"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Today. Today. Not think.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081064"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Tour the south then. What about English <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">wateringplaces</distinct>? Brighton,
<lb n="081065"/>Margate. Piers by moonlight. Her voice floating out. Those lovely seaside
<lb n="081066"/>girls. Against John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought,
<lb n="081067"/>gnawing a crusted knuckle. Handy man wants job. Small wages. Will eat
<lb n="081068"/>anything.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081069"/>Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of unbought tarts
<lb n="081070"/>and passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. <said who="lb" aloud="false"><title type="book">Why I left the
<lb n="081071"/>church of Rome.</title> Birds' nest women run him. They say they used to give
<lb n="081072"/>pauper children soup to change to protestants in the time of the potato
<lb n="081073"/>blight. Society over the way papa went to for the conversion of poor jews.
<lb n="081074"/>Same bait. <title>Why we left the church of Rome.</title></said></p>
<p><lb n="081075"/>A blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone with his slender cane.
<lb n="081076"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">No tram in sight. Wants to cross.</said>
<lb n="081077"/><said who="lb">―Do you want to cross?</said> Mr Bloom asked.</p>
<p><lb n="081078"/>The blind stripling did not answer. His <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">wallface</distinct> frowned weakly. He
<lb n="081079"/>moved his head uncertainly.
<lb n="081080"/><said who="lb">―You're in Dawson street,</said> Mr Bloom said. <said who="lb">Molesworth street is opposite.
<lb n="081081"/>Do you want to cross? There's nothing in the way.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081082"/>The cane moved out trembling to the left. Mr Bloom's eye followed its
  <lb n="081083"/>line and saw again the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">dyeworks'</distinct> van drawn up before Drago's. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Where I
<lb n="081084"/>saw his brillantined hair just when I was. Horse drooping. Driver in John
  <lb n="081085"/>Long's. Slaking his <distinct type="dialect">drouth</distinct>.</said>
<lb n="081086"/><said who="lb">―There's a van there,</said> Mr Bloom said, <said who="lb">but it's not moving. I'll see you
<lb n="081087"/>across. Do you want to go to Molesworth street?</said>
<lb n="081088"/><said who="ubst">―Yes,</said> the stripling answered. <said who="ubst">South Frederick street.</said>
<lb n="081089"/><said who="lb">―Come,</said> Mr Bloom said.</p>
<p><lb n="081090"/>He touched the thin elbow gently: then took the limp seeing hand to
<lb n="081091"/>guide it forward.</p>
<p><lb n="081092"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Say something to him. Better not do the condescending. They mistrust
<lb n="081093"/>what you tell them. Pass a common remark.</said>
<lb n="081094"/><said who="lb">―The rain kept off.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081095"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">No answer.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081096"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Stains on his coat. Slobbers his food, I suppose. Tastes all different for
  <lb n="081097"/>him. Have to be <distinct type="compound">spoonfed</distinct> first. Like a child's hand, his hand. Like Milly's
<lb n="081098"/>was. Sensitive. Sizing me up I daresay from my hand. Wonder if he has a
<lb n="081099"/>name. Van. Keep his cane clear of the horse's legs: tired drudge get his
<lb n="081100"/>doze. That's right. Clear. Behind a bull: in front of a horse.</said>
<lb n="081101"/><said who="ubst">―Thanks, sir.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081102"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Knows I'm a man. Voice.</said>
<lb n="081103"/><said who="lb">―Right now? First turn to the left.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081104"/>The blind stripling tapped the curbstone and went on his way,
<lb n="081105"/>drawing his cane back, feeling again.</p>
<p><lb n="081106"/>Mr Bloom walked behind the eyeless feet, a <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">flatcut</distinct> suit of herringbone
<lb n="081107"/>tweed. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Poor young fellow! How on earth did he know that van was there?
<lb n="081108"/>Must have felt it. See things in their forehead perhaps: kind of sense of
<lb n="081109"/>volume. Weight or size of it, something blacker than the dark. Wonder
<lb n="081110"/>would he feel it if something was removed. Feel a gap. Queer idea of Dublin
<lb n="081111"/>he must have, tapping his way round by the stones. Could he walk in a
<lb n="081112"/>beeline if he hadn't that cane? Bloodless pious face like a fellow going in to
<lb n="081113"/>be a priest.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081114"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Penrose! That was that chap's name.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081115"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Look at all the things they can learn to do. Read with their fingers.
<lb n="081116"/>Tune pianos. Or we are surprised they have any brains. Why we think a
<lb n="081117"/>deformed person or a hunchback clever if he says something we might say.
<lb n="081118"/>Of course the other senses are more. Embroider. Plait baskets. People
<lb n="081119"/>ought to help. Workbasket I could buy for Molly's birthday. Hates sewing.
<lb n="081120"/>Might take an objection. Dark men they call them.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081121"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Sense of smell must be stronger too. Smells on all sides, bunched
<lb n="081122"/>together. Each street different smell. Each person too. Then the spring, the
<lb n="081123"/>summer: smells. Tastes? They say you can't taste wines with your eyes shut
<lb n="081124"/>or a cold in the head. Also smoke in the dark they say get no pleasure.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081125"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">And with a woman, for instance. More shameless not seeing. That girl
<lb n="081126"/>passing the Stewart institution, head in the air. Look at me. I have them all
<lb n="081127"/>on. Must be strange not to see her. Kind of a form in his mind's eye. The
<lb n="081128"/>voice, temperatures: when he touches her with his fingers must almost see
<lb n="081129"/>the lines, the curves. His hands on her hair, for instance. Say it was black,
<lb n="081130"/>for instance. Good. We call it black. Then passing over her white skin.
<lb n="081131"/>Different feel perhaps. Feeling of white.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081132"/><said who="lb" aloud="false"><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Postoffice</distinct>. Must answer. Fag today. Send her a postal order two
<lb n="081133"/>shillings, half a crown. Accept my little present. Stationer's just here too.
<lb n="081134"/>Wait. Think over it.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081135"/>With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above
<lb n="081136"/>his ears. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Again. Fibres of fine fine straw. Then gently his finger felt the skin
<lb n="081137"/>of his right cheek. Downy hair there too. Not smooth enough. The belly is
<lb n="081138"/>the smoothest. No-one about. There he goes into Frederick street. Perhaps
<lb n="081139"/>to Levenston's dancing academy piano. Might be settling my braces.</said></p>
  <p><lb n="081140"/>Walking by Doran's <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">publichouse</distinct> he slid his hand between his
<lb n="081141"/>waistcoat and trousers and, pulling aside his shirt gently, felt a slack fold of
<lb n="081142"/>his belly. <said who="lb" aloud="false">But I know it's whitey yellow. Want to try in the dark to see.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081143"/>He withdrew his hand and pulled his dress to.</p>
<p><lb n="081144"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Poor fellow! Quite a boy. Terrible. Really terrible. What dreams
<lb n="081145"/>would he have, not seeing? Life a dream for him. Where is the justice being
<lb n="081146"/>born that way? All those women and children excursion <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">beanfeast</distinct> burned
<lb n="081147"/>and drowned in New York. Holocaust. Karma they call that transmigration
<lb n="081148"/>for sins you did in a past life the reincarnation met him pike hoses. Dear,
<lb n="081149"/>dear, dear. Pity, of course: but somehow you can't cotton on to them
<lb n="081150"/>someway.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081151"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the freemasons' hall. Solemn as
<lb n="081152"/>Troy. After his good lunch in Earlsfort terrace. Old legal cronies cracking a
<lb n="081153"/>magnum. Tales of the bench and assizes and annals of the bluecoat school. I
<lb n="081154"/>sentenced him to ten years. I suppose he'd turn up his nose at that stuff I
<lb n="081155"/>drank. Vintage wine for them, the year marked on a dusty bottle. Has his
<lb n="081156"/>own ideas of justice in the recorder's court. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Wellmeaning</distinct> old man. Police
  <lb n="081157"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">chargesheets</distinct> crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime.
  <lb n="081158"/>Sends them to the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">rightabout</distinct>. The devil on moneylenders. Gave Reuben J a
  <lb n="081159"/>great <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">strawcalling</distinct>. Now he's really what they call a dirty jew. Power those
<lb n="081160"/>judges have. Crusty old topers in wigs. Bear with a sore paw. And may the
<lb n="081161"/>Lord have mercy on your soul.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081162"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Hello, placard. Mirus bazaar. His Excellency the lord lieutenant.
<lb n="081163"/>Sixteenth. Today it is. In aid of funds for Mercer's hospital. The <title type="oratorio">Messiah</title>
<lb n="081164"/>was first given for that. Yes. Handel. What about going out there:
<lb n="081165"/>Ballsbridge. Drop in on Keyes. No use sticking to him like a leech. Wear
<lb n="081166"/>out my welcome. Sure to know someone on the gate.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081167"/>Mr Bloom came to Kildare street. <said who="lb" aloud="false">First I must. Library.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081168"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Straw hat in sunlight. Tan shoes. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Turnedup</distinct> trousers. It is. It is.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081169"/>His heart quopped softly. <said who="lb" aloud="false">To the right. Museum. Goddesses.</said> He
<lb n="081170"/>swerved to the right.</p>
<p><lb n="081171"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Is it? Almost certain. Won't look. Wine in my face. Why did I? Too
<lb n="081172"/>heady. Yes, it is. The walk. Not see. Get on.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081173"/>Making for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes.
<lb n="081174"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Handsome building. Sir Thomas Deane designed. Not following me?</said></p>
<p><lb n="081175"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Didn't see me perhaps. Light in his eyes.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081176"/>The flutter of his breath came forth in short sighs. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Quick. Cold
<lb n="081177"/>statues: quiet there. Safe in a minute.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081178"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">No. Didn't see me. After two. Just at the gate.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081179"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">My heart!</said></p>
<p><lb n="081180"/>His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of stone. Sir
<lb n="081181"/>Thomas Deane was the Greek architecture.</p>
<p><lb n="081182"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Look for something I.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081183"/>His hasty hand went quick into a pocket, took out, read unfolded
<lb n="081184"/>Agendath Netaim. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Where did I?</said></p>
<p><lb n="081185"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Busy looking.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081186"/>He thrust back quick Agendath.</p>
<p><lb n="081187"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Afternoon she said.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081188"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">I am looking for that. Yes, that. Try all pockets. Handker. <title type="newspaper">Freeman.</title>
<lb n="081189"/>Where did I? Ah, yes. Trousers. Potato. Purse. Where?</said></p>
<p><lb n="081190"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Hurry. Walk quietly. Moment more. My heart.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081191"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">His hand looking for the where did I put found in his hip pocket soap
<lb n="081192"/>lotion have to call tepid paper stuck. Ah soap there I yes. Gate.</said></p>
<p><lb n="081193"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Safe!</said> </p>
</div> <!-- End of Episode 8, "Lestrygonians" -->