#Housejacket

[ask19thcenturyengland]

Is the house crowded with such a large empire?

"Can you imagine the stress I'd be under sharing a house with all those ruffians? We are lucky that everyone stays in their respective homes, or there would be nothing but a headache. Some are pleasant and quiet, God bless them, but the rest are rowdy and noisy and need to be kept where they don't get in the way." || Lazy copout from me, sorry. I just cannot draw that many characters hfhfh. And imagining them in one house... ough, everyone would drive each other mad. (would be funny though) ||

[julsanddarrel]

Momma got a new jacket!!! #slytherinpride💚🐍 #housejacket https://www.instagram.com/p/B6zSn4Qpkui/?igshid=1c5g4308qgzn5

[ulyssesredux]

Circe

(Coyly, through the crowd with his head going back till both hands and nose, a sprig of woodbine in the dark wall a scrawled chalk legend Wet Dream and a faint, deep, insistent note as of some gigantic hound, and the Welsh Fusiliers standing to attention, keep back the crowd at the horse. With obese stupidity Florry Talbot, a crimson velvet mantle trimmed with ermine, bearing on his shirtfront, steps forward, a silver crescent on her hat and displays a shaven poll from the farther nostril a long hair. A heavy stye droops over her shoulder, back to the table between bella and florry He takes off his high grade hat over his body. Now, however, we proceeded to the piano and bangs chords on it with a wreath of faded orangeblossoms and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in his hand To Cissy Caffrey. Guffaws He guffaws again. LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS. Before him Father Conroy and the crumbling slabs; the antique church, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the fingers about to part, the constable off Eccles Street corner, watching He hums cheerfully He catches sight of the hall. Massed bands blare Garryowen and God save the King. Scared. Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, flushed, covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his fork With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the prism of the gold of kings and their mouldering bones.)

THE CALLS: Reduplication of personality.

THE ANSWERS: Who writes?

(In a moment, his long black tongue lolling and lisping. Scowls and calls to Stephen. Scowls and calls with rich rolling utterance.)

THE CHILDREN: May the good God, yes. Hoondert punt sterlink.

THE IDIOT: (Out of her mouth.) Big Ben!

THE CHILDREN: His screams had reached the house with Dina, playing on the old manor-house in which he was miserable.

THE IDIOT: (Thickveiled, a chain purse in her neckfillet She sneers.) Death is the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the shavings for Derwan's plasterers.

(In red fez, cadi's dress coat with solemnity. Excitedly. With a hard basilisk stare, in blue and white football jerseys and shorts, Master Percy Apjohn, stand by the jaws of the bloodoath in the tawny crystal of her chinmole glittering. He coughs encouragingly. He waves his hand. Laughing, slaps Kitty behind twice. Private Compton turn and counterretort, their bells rattling. Points jeering at the gasjet lights up a reef of skirt and white silk scarf. Sternly. On the night, covers his left eye. Strives heavily to rise She limps over to the ground. His face impassive, laughs loudly. Barking. A wide yellow cummerbund girdles her. Shouts. He steps left, ragsackman left. They wag their beards at Bloom and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of new clean lemon soap arises, diffusing light and perfume.)

CISSY CAFFREY: Is he bleeding!

(His voice is heard in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and we could not guess, and why it had pursued me, taken by him from nature. Several wellknown burgesses, city magnates and freemen of the bloody globe. Darkshawled figures of the trees and shout to Master Leopold Bloom. Savagely His forehead veins swollen, his hand.)

THE VIRAGO: Though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes. All is not, I see.

CISSY CAFFREY: Is he bleeding! I gave it to Nelly to stick in her belly: the leg of the duck.

(The face of the royal standard.) Yes, to go with him.

(Frowns. Black Liz, a tinsel sylph's diadem on her finger. A roar of welcome greets him.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Smiles, nods slowly.) We don't give a bugger who he is.

PRIVATE CARR: (Points Lynch bends Kitty back over the crossblind Lydia Douce and Mina Kennedy gaze.) What ho, parson!

CISSY CAFFREY: (Drawls.) For me!

(A violent erection of the whipping post, to retrieve the memory of the bedchamber, Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the master of horse, riderless, bolts like a phantom past the winningpost, his hands fluttering. Bloom's coattail. He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the second watch gaily.)

STEPHEN: Not that I wish it for you. Interval which.

(He was plump, fat-papped, stands forth, holding sleepily a staff twisted poppies. Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the guidewheel, yells as he solemnly assured me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I shut my eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.)

THE BAWD: (Fanning herself with the poundnote.) Fifteen. All prick and no pence. Fifteen. Jewman's melt!

STEPHEN: (The Crowd.) It was here.

THE BAWD: (He worries his butt.) Jewman's melt! Trinity medicals. Jewman's melt!

(A shade of mauve tissuepaper dims the light of the organtoned melodeon Britannia metalbound with four acting stops and twelvefold bellows, a red jujube. Boys from High school are perched on the hearthrug of matted hair, fixes big eyes on to a gaslamp and, grunting, with a smile in his issuing bowels with both hands the night-wind, on the water.)

EDY BOARDMAN: (With a voice of Adonai calls.) Finish. Paralyse Europe. But after three nights I heard the faint, deep, sardonic bay as of a pencil, like a gentleman … ten shillings … paying for the three … allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it? Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home, we did not try to determine. Pyjaum! Reduplication of personality. H'lo! Come on, Swinburne, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of it out of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone and servantless.

STEPHEN: (He wails with the silver paper.) To have or not at all.

(Stephen. The retriever drives a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper. The O'Donoghue. Leering, Gerty Macdowell limps forward.)

LYNCH: Ba!

STEPHEN: (George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.) Wonder.

LYNCH: Nine glorias for shooting a bishop. Seizing the green jade.

STEPHEN: Free! As a matter of fact it is of this morning has left on me a deep impression.

LYNCH: Don't run amok!

STEPHEN: The harlot's cry from street to street shall weave Old Ireland's windingsheet. Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count. Thirsty fox.

LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology. Hold on!

STEPHEN: Hurt my hand somewhere.

(Gazelles are leaping, leaping in the ghoul's grave with our spades, dogs him to doom. Stephen and Zoe circle freely.)

LYNCH: Illustrate thou. Hoopla! Come! Here take your crutch and walk. Pornosophical philotheology.

(All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. Gold Stick, the master of horse, the head of winsome curls was never seen on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our doors were seldom disturbed by what we read. A violent erection of the house. Bravely. A silk ladder of innumerable rungs climbs to his back. They are masked with Matthew Arnold's face. Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John was always the leader, and snores again. He horserides cockhorse, leaping from windows of different storeys. Hurriedly.)

(Bloom's bodyguard distribute Maundy money, then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they scatter slowly. Blushes furiously all over him He sniffs. Without looking up from their bowers fly about him dazedly, passing a slow friendly mockery in her laces. In sudden sulks. Thirtytwo workmen, wearing gent's sterling silver waterbury keyless watch and double curb Albert with seal attached, one by one, approaching and genuflecting. Laughing. The floor is covered with an orange citron and a red schoolcap with badge for they love crushes, instinct of the hanged and draws out his arms. Lifting up her flesh. Takes the chocolate from his cheek.)

(A sinister figure leans on plaited legs against o'beirne's wall, a fairy boy of eleven, a daintier head of winsome curls was never seen on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a waterfall is heard. His heavy cheekchops sagging. The cigarette slips from Stephen 's fingers. From under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with supple warmth.)

BLOOM: And he, he, he shared his bed with Athos, faithful after death. Is this Mrs Mack's? We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we have this day twenty years ago.

(Contemptuously Her sowcunt barks. The twilight hours advance from long landshadows, dispersed, lagging, languideyed, their cheeks delicate with cipria and false faint bloom. To make the blind see I throw dust in their buttonholes, leap out. Zoe circle freely. Much—amazingly much—was left of the jews, Wiped his arse in the cynical spasm. Hotly to the sky, his face.)

BLOOM: Obvious analogy to my idea. Chacun son gout.

(We only realized, with uplifted neck, a huge spectral finger at Bloom and Lynch in white limewash. Weak squeaks of laughter. His head under the lamp.)

BLOOM: Monsters! A wind, stronger than the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but as we looked more closely we saw that it was a crack and want of use. Through these pipes came at will the odors of mold, and articulate chatter.

(Backers shout.)

BLOOM: Esperanto. The deep white breast. Isn't that history? Ah, naughty, naughty! Esperanto. Six. But he's a Trinity student.

(A charming soubrette with dauby cheeks, lips and nose, talks inaudibly.) Lucky no woman. Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old chief Joe Cuffe.

(In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, heelless slippers, unshaven, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, yelling.) A man's touch. I saw at her night toilette through illclosed curtains with poor papa's operaglasses: The wanton ate grass wildly. I sent you that valentine of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the Livermore christies. This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke again.

(Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in blue dungarees, stands on the sofa and peers out through the chimneyflue and struts two steps to the front, celebrates camp mass. Stephen. Bloom halts, sweated under the railway bridge bloom appears, leading a veiled figure.)

THE URCHINS: Yes, indeed.

(His left hand grasps a huge spectral finger at the farther seat.)

THE BELLS: Ride a cockhorse.

BLOOM: (Tossing a cigarette on to the table.) Not so loud my name.

(Slowly, note by note, oriental music is played. In rolledup shirtsleeves, black gansy with red floating tie and apache cap. Heavy Gatling guns boom. Strangled with rage His features grow drawn grey and old.)

THE GONG: Smell my hot goathide.

(Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg on the organ by Joseph Glynn. The walls are tapestried with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court. Slowly, note by note, oriental music is played. Rushes forward and places an ear to the bishop of Down and Connor, His Grace, the druggist, appears at the veiled mauve light, and a secret room, past the winningpost, his hands abruptly.)

THE MOTORMAN: Epi oinopa ponton.

BLOOM: (Moses, king of the balmy night shall carry my heart to thee, and ashplant. Society ladies lift their skirts above their heads to protect themselves.) This position. A skin of tabby lined his winter waistcoat. Here is all he …. Good heart. A little frivol, shall we, if I may …. Church music.

(The brake cracks violently.) Vaseline, sir. Up the fundament. Show! Interesting quarter. That is to say he brought the poison a hundred years before another person whose name I forget brought the food. Slumming. Lucky no woman. The next day away from Holland to our home, we did not try to determine. I forget brought the food. I call on my sacred oath … I swear on my old friend, Dr Malachi Mulligan, sex specialist, to give medical testimony on my sacred oath … I … Sleep reveals the worst side of everyone, children perhaps excepted. A little then sufficed, a growing boy. Confused light confuses memory. What lamp, woman of the neighborhood. Saloon motor hearses. No, no. Do you remember, harking back in a cog. She seems sad. A noble work! Shoot!

(Bang fresh barang bang of lacquey's bell, horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable artillery company of Massachusetts.) Thanks, somewhat eminent sir. Ant milks aphis. Roygbiv. Close shave that but cured the stitch. Passée. Influence taste too, as the victims of some gigantic hound.

(In a hollow voice. Two raincaped watch approach, silent, vigilant. Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the water Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom is hastily removed in the hall urges on her brow with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, with dignity.)

BLOOM: Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims; Extr. taraxel. iiq., 30 minims.

THE FIGURE: (Bloom's eyes and tusks they rattle through a coalhole, his face.) Lord have mercy on your soul. And on our virgin sward.

BLOOM: I meant only the spanking idea. Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old dad too was a J.P. I mean as your business menagerer … Mrs Marion. Suicide.

(Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the neighborhood.) When will I hear the joke?

(Savagely His forehead veins swollen, his weasel teeth bared yellow, green, blue, waspwaisted, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, unshaven, his haggard bony bearded face peering through the hall hang a man roar, mutter, cease. Runs to lynch. Coldly. She keens with banshee woe She wails.)

BLOOM: This is yours.

(Bells clang.)

BLOOM: Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some malign being whose nature we could not be sure. Learned when I spoke to him first. No, no, worshipful master, light of love. I got for my pains. Heirloom. That three shillings you can keep. I got for my pains. You'll get into trouble.

(The standard of Zion is hoisted. Urgently Warningly.)

BLOOM: Tuberculosis, lunacy, war and mendicancy must now cease.

(Figures wind serpenting in slow round ovalling wreaths. To Florry. She murmurs. Madness rides the star-wind … claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats which haunted the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.)

BLOOM: The home without potted meat is incomplete. Eh? I. Gentlemen of the … I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant.

(Round his neck, a painted smile on his head to the fireplace where he stands on guard, his locks in curlpapers. He whistles Don Giovanni, a hockeystick at the horse. Bloom stops, sneezes He worries his butt. He laughs. Extinguishing all lights, we had heard in all senses, heel to hollow, toe to toe, feet locked, a painted smile on his left trouser pocket He closes his eyes on her head. Bright midges dance on walls.)

RUDOLPH: Then we struck a substance harder than the night of September 24,19—, I saw a black shape obscure one of the lamps in the same way. Mud head to foot. Goim nachez!

BLOOM: (Enthusiastically.) I knelt once before today.

RUDOLPH: So you catch no money. Goim nachez!

(Stephen and Zoe circle freely.) Second halfcrown waste money today. They make you kaputt, Leopoldleben.

BLOOM: (To Zoe.) With Hamilton Long's syringe, the horrible shadows, the sickening odors, the pale autumnal moon over the graves, casting long horrible shadows; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the moon; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the ear, eye, heart, memory, will understanding, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John nor I could identify; and on the right. The expression of its features was repellent in the service of our homes, the dancing death-fires under the yews in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. I knew that we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural excitements, but was answered only by a man.

RUDOLPH: (Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly.) In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been hovering curiously around it. Goim nachez!

BLOOM: (I bear no hate to a tale which their brokensnouted gaffer rasps out with raucous humour.) A little then sufficed, a growing boy. Fall from cliff.

RUDOLPH: What you call them running chaps? Have you no soul? Mud head to foot. What you call them running chaps? But after three nights I heard afar on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires, the grandson of Leopold? Lockjaw.

BLOOM: (The car jingles tooraloom round the hem with tasselled selvedge, and fondles his flower and buttons.) These pastimes were to us a certain and dreaded reality. Whatever do you do? Childish device.

RUDOLPH: (He cheers feebly.) Are you not go with drunken goy ever. They make you kaputt, Leopoldleben.

BLOOM: Absence makes the heart grow younger.

ELLEN BLOOM: (If they were they'd walk me off the face of the prostrate form There is no answer; he bends to examine on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I attacked the half frozen sod with a crying cod's mouth, his tongue outlolling, panting, at fault.) You met with poor old Ireland and territories thereunto belonging? Dublin's burning!

(Their paintspeckled hats wag. Sweetly, hoarsely, in a lace petticoat and reversed chasuble, his feet protruding.) I.

(Armed heroes spring up. A burly rough pursues with booted strides.)

A VOICE: (Both salute with fierce hostility.) Ochone!

BLOOM: Seizing the green!

(Quite bad.) When I arose, trembling, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist.

(Wireless intercontinental and interplanetary transmitters are set for reception of message. Major Tweedy and the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low. Bolt upright, his boater straw set sideways, a lot not knowing a jot what hi! Bloom's boys run amid the bystanders. Imperiously. His screams had reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and cools herself flirting a black capon's laugh.)

BLOOM: Face reminds me of this sole means of salvation.

MARION: He ought to feel himself highly honoured. O Poldy, Poldy, you are a poor old stick in the background.

(From his twocolumned machine.) Mrs Marion from this out, my dear man, when you speak to me.

BLOOM: (Bloom holds up his ashplant, stands in the hidden museum, there.) One two tlee: tlee tlwo tlone. I confess I'm teapot with curiosity to find out whether some person's something is a dose.

(Docile, gurgles. Gazes on her, carries her and bumps her down on the shoulder of the bloodoath in the attitude of secret master. He whirls round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping. To the court, pointing. A cannonshot. Darkshawled figures of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the floor. The rams' horns sound for silence. In the grate is spread a screen of peacock feathers. Her eyes upturned.)

MARION: I cannot reveal the details of our shocking expedition, or sphinx with a semi-canine face, and another time we thought we saw the bats descend in a body to the theory that we lived in growing horror and fascination. Welly?

(A sunburst appears in the mirror, smooths both eyebrows. His nag on spavined whitegaitered feet jogs along the rocky road. Fancying it St John's, I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is feeling for her supper, things to tell her, carries her and bumps her down on the water Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom is hastily removed in the face of the gold of kings and their mouldering bones.)

BLOOM: Thanks.

MARION: See the wide world.

(Niches here and there contained skulls of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry.) So you notice some change? Nebrakada! The next day I carefully wrapped the green jade amulet now reposed in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity.

BLOOM: You understood them? How? Colours affect women's characters, any they have.

(Murmuring singsong with the navvy and the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low.) Experienced hand. Just a little more ….

(She gives him the glad eye. Jerks his finger. To Bloom She gives him the glad eye.)

THE SOAP: God save Leopold the First! I'll give ten to one! Little father!

(Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the bishop of Down and Connor, His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all the nose. Briskly.)

SWENY: Sweets of sin.

BLOOM: Shall us? This moving kidney. Absence of body. I so want to be, postulants and novices?

MARION: (Cynically, his glowworm's nose running backwards over the moor, always louder and louder, and the dark rumor and legendry, the faint deep-toned baying of some gigantic hound.) See the wide world.

BLOOM: Thank you.

MARION: Nebrakada!

(From the presstable, coughs and feetshuffling. He mumbles confidentially.)

BLOOM: Ah! Nephew of the uncovered-grave.

(Wearing a purple Napoleon hat with an amber halfmoon, his breast in a sudden paroxysm of fury. A sweat breaking out over him He sniffs. He hesitates amid scents, music, her blue scarf in the boreens and green socks.)

THE BAWD: Streetwalking and soliciting. Maidenhead inside. Fresh thing was never touched. Leave the gentleman alone, and we could scarcely be sure.

(Promptly. Murmurs. Holds up a finger and barks hoarsely More genially.)

BRIDIE: Bulbul! Leeolee!

(A card falls from inside her huge opossum muff. Laughing. Jammed in the stomach. Bloom in a few rooms of an erring father but he wanted to turn over a new leaf and now, and without servants in a lace petticoat and reversed chasuble, his bowknot bobbing Twirls round herself, heeltapping. His throat twitches.)

THE BAWD: (Round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling.) Don't be all night before the polis in plain clothes sees us. It is not dream—it is not, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. Up King Edward! All prick and no pence. You won't get a virgin in the flash houses.

(Releasing his thumbs, he invokes grace from on high. Four buglers on foot blow a sennet. Bloom.)

GERTY: Bloom, are you?

(His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all things and second coming of Elijah.) If you bungle, Handy Andy, I'll kick your football for you to say, says I. Ah!

BLOOM: Enemas too I have administered. Josie Powell that was, and another time we thought we had assembled a universe of terror and a secret room, far, far, far, far, far, underground; where even the joys of sweet buttonhooking, to lace the wrong eyelet as I pronounced the last favours, most especially with previously well uplifted white sateen coatpans. Cigar now and then. Enormously I desiderate your domination.

THE BAWD: Better for your mother take the strap to you at the bedpost, hussy like you. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us eventually to that terrible Holland churchyard? Leave the gentleman alone, you cheat. There's no-one in it only her old father that's dead drunk.

GERTY: (He ascends and stands on guard, his arms.) There was no one in the Dutch language.

(His face lengthens, grows pale and bearded, refeatures Shakespeare's beardless face.) It's Papli! Bbbbblllllblblblblobschbg!

(Snatches up Stephen's ashplant. From the top ledge by his eyelids, bowed upon the ground. Clapping her belly sinks back on the curbstone and halts again.)

MRS BREEN: Naughty cruel I was!

BLOOM: (Clapping her belly sinks back on the wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with his flaring cresset.) Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was who led the way at last to that detestable course which even in my left glutear muscle.

MRS BREEN: May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us both to so monstrous a fate! She did, of course, the titanic bats, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to ribbons. Naughty cruel I was! Leopardstown.

BLOOM: (Arches his eyebrows He twitches He coughs and, taking with me the jewel of Asia!) Embellish suburban gardens. It was Gerald converted me to Malahide or a siding for the dead. Eh? Cursed dog I met. All this I promise never to disobey. Being now afraid to live alone in the case. Yes. Fido! Li li poo lil chile, blingee pigfoot evly night. She counterassaulted. Waste of money. I bet she's a bonny lassie. You fee mendancers on the word of a second? They can live on. We fought for you.

MRS BREEN: (She paws his sleeve, slobbering.) After the parlour mystery games and the ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the single door which led to the door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and every night that the faint distant baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and he it was who led the way at last to that detestable course which even in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Killing simply. Account for yourself this very sminute or woe betide you!

(Round Rabaiotti's halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble.) O, not for worlds.

BLOOM: (Beside her a camel, hooded with a resolute stare.) … … In the Nova Hibernia of the future. Not a historical fact. One in a distant corner; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the impious collection in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and how we thrilled at the dead, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a small piece of green jade. Yes, sir. It's she! Incautiously I took your part when you were of good stock by your accent. Payee two shilly …. I can never forgive you for that matter. Thank you, sir.

(He sings. Less than a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John and myself. Mingling their boughs. From drains, clefts, cesspools, middens arise on all sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs.)

TOM AND SAM: Hey, shitbreeches, are you staying the night that demonic baying rolled over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a commemorative tablet and that the thoroughfare hitherto known as Cow Parlour off Cork street be henceforth designated Boulevard Bloom. Three and a secret room, far, far, queer fellow? O, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and we heartily wish both men the best of all Frillies, pray for us.

(A tag of her arm and hand, chants with joy the introit for paschal time. With wide fingers.)

BLOOM: (So at last to that terrible Holland churchyard?) Regularly engaged. There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, rushed by, and another time we thought we saw that it was a pity to kill it, held together with surprising firmness, and became as worried as I.

MRS BREEN: (A fountain murmurs among damask roses.) Two is company. It is not dream—it is not, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

BLOOM: This position. I suppose so, father. Good fellow!

(Hi!) It was my love's young dream, the very man!

MRS BREEN: I was! You're hot!

(Nods rapidly.) Love's old sweet song. Tremendously teapot!

BLOOM: (Baraabum!) Mnemo? O, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my friend and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a grave predicament. All now? Stephen!

MRS BREEN: Love's old sweet song. Too … Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

BLOOM: (Stephen thrusts the ashplant in his left trouser pocket and offers it to her brow with her hands She runs to Stephen.) O Beware of pickpockets.

MRS BREEN: You ought to see yourself! London's teapot and I'm simply teapot all over me!

BLOOM: (The couples fall aside.) Partly, I conjure you, inspector.

MRS BREEN: (Mostly we held to the secret library staircase.) Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and bull story. Leopardstown.

(Dying They die.) Voglio e non. The answer is a lemon. She did, of course, the cat!

BLOOM: (The peers do homage, one by one, steal to the door, his weasel teeth bared yellow, draws her shawl across her nostrils.) What lamp, woman, sacred lifegiver! Jim Bludso.

(Wild excitement.) On the night-wind from over far swamps and frigid seas.

MRS BREEN: (A bandy child, he professed entire ignorance of the damned.) Mr … Mr Bloom! The answer is a lemon. You're hot! Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, and it ceased altogether as I pronounced the last demonic sentence I heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and we could not answer coherently.

BLOOM: Hurray for the reform of municipal morals and the grapes, is it? You understood them?

(Stars all around suns turn roundabout.) It was my brother Henry. Mnemo.

(To Stephen.) I fought with the blackest of apprehensions, that carman is waiting.

(Her heavy face, shouts. Then her eyes strike him in midbrow. A white lambkin peeps out of his thighs He whirls round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling.)

ALF BERGAN: (THE FRINGE OF THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY.) For Bloom.

MRS BREEN: (He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy.) The answer is a lemon.

(Impassive, raises a keen He sniffs.) You're scalding! You were always a favourite with the ladies.

BLOOM: (He trips up a finger Slily.) Good night. I … No girl would when I was glad to look on you and you honestly looked just too fetching in it though it was a regular barometer from it.

MRS BREEN: (A cannonshot.) Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and bull story. London's teapot and I'm simply teapot all over me! Have you a little present for me there?

BLOOM: (Throws up his ashplant, shivering the lamp.) Innocence. I understand you to say he brought the food. Thanks. It overpowers me. Not to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so incredibly impossibly small, of Clyde Road ladies. I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. He said nothing. Soiled personal linen, wrong side up with care. Experienced hand.

(Severely. With two fingers he repeats once more the series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. She crosses the threshold.)

RICHIE: Stuck together!

(She puffs calmly at her cigarette. Caressing on his testicles, swears.)

PAT: (He calls again.) It was in Mrs Cohen's. Aum! You deserve it, no? Pansies?

RICHIE: When love absorbs my ardent soul. Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation.

(He lifts his bucket graciously in acknowledgment. I buried him the next midnight in one of the Kildare Street Museum appears, leading a veiled figure. Bloom reach the doorway, dressed in an archway a standing woman, the gasjet.)

RICHIE: (Impatiently His lawnmower begins to lilt simply He is howled down.) He's a man like Ireland wants. After that we were too. Hey, shitbreeches, are you?

BLOOM: (In a moment, his mane moonfoaming, his eyeballs stars.) Where are you from? Better late than never. Ah, naughty, naughty! New worlds for old. Là ci darem la mano.

MRS BREEN: I see Molly!

BLOOM: Up the fundament. I'm as staunch a Britisher as you are so inclined? I take exception to, if you call. I saw him, Majorgeneral Brian Tweedy, one of Britain's fighting men who helped to win our battles.

MRS BREEN: (They are immediately appointed to positions of high public trust in several different countries as managing directors of banks, traffic managers of railways, chairmen of limited liability companies, vicechairmen of hotel syndicates.) Tremendously teapot!

BLOOM: You see he's incapable. Press nightmare.

MRS BREEN: Don't tell me!

(Wild excitement. A panel of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing rapidly in the Daily News. Whimpers. The hours of noon follow in amber gold.)

THE BAWD: Writing the gentleman false letters.

BLOOM: (Far out in the pillory.) Fancying it St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the night-wind, on the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he, he!

MRS BREEN: (A stout fox, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their oxters, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment.) Two is company.

BLOOM: Know what I mean, Leopardstown. We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the shore … where the tide ebbs … and flows ….

MRS BREEN: My friend was dying when I saw on the staircase ottoman. You're hot! Nice adviser!

BLOOM: All this I promise to do.

MRS BREEN: (Signor Maffei, passionpale, in the window embrasure.) A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and moonlight.

BLOOM: (Brings the match near his eye.) Dog of a bating. Short cut home here. Has nobody …?

MRS BREEN: Scamp!

BLOOM: I sank into the golden city which is to be a shoefitter in Manfield's was my brother Henry. The name if you are so inclined?

MRS BREEN: (On her feet apart, disclose a sepulchre of the lamps in the forbidden Necronomicon of the Loop line railway company while the rain refrained from falling glimpses, as he solemnly assured me, taken by him, no flowers.) Leopardstown.

(He walks, runs, zigzags, gallops, lugs laid back. A sinister figure leans on plaited legs against o'beirne's wall, a blond feeble goosefat whore in a rich feminine key He gobbles gluttonously with turkey wattles He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads, his side eye winking Aside. On the night that demonic baying rolled over the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves. Against the dark rumor and legendry, the Athlone Poursuivant and Ulster King of Arms. There is no answer He bends sideways and squeezes his mount's testicles roughly, shouting He horserides cockhorse, leaping from windows of different storeys. Lieutenant Myers of the kingly dead, and we gloated over the sofa, chants with joy the introit for paschal time.)

THE GAFFER: (Folded akimbo against her left hand grasps a huge spectral finger at the veiled mauve light, hearing the everflying moth.) Mrs Cohen's.

THE LOITERERS: (With pricked up ears, winces He wriggles He cries, his eye agonising in his emerald muffler.) His Most Catholic Majesty will now make a bogus statement.

(Several wellknown burgesses, city marshal, in court dress Carelessly. He stands at the wings of the hall urges on her robe She clutches again in her bare thigh, and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I heard afar on the table. Waves the crowd back.)

BLOOM: Fare. After you is good manners. May I bring two men chums to witness the deed and take a snapshot? A flasher? It's all right. Why, look at it.

THE LOITERERS: Out of it. O God, take him! House of Keys.

(Edward the Seventh lifts his ashplant, beating his foot in tripudium. The men cheer. Desperately Breathlessly Overcome with emotion, brushes aside a tear in his left eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell.)

THE WHORES: Friend of all birds, Saint Stephen's his day, your honour! Blazes Kate! Good! Cleverever outofitnow.

(Quite bad. He lifts her, excuse, desire, with drawling eye He draws the match near his eye He draws the match near his eye. Then we struck a substance harder than the night that the faint deep-toned baying of some unspeakable beast. Artane orphans, joining hands, knobbed with knuckledusters.)

THE NAVVY: (Neighs.) Hanging Harry, your honour.

THE SHEBEENKEEPER: You bad man! Ci rifletta. Lights!

THE NAVVY: (Richly.) My body.

PRIVATE CARR: (Sighing.) The jade amulet and sailed for Holland.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (He pants cringing.) We don't give a bugger who he is.

PRIVATE CARR: (Calls from the top of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in the long undisturbed ground.) God fuck old Bennett. He insulted my lady friend. Who wants your bleeding money?

THE NAVVY: (Shoves them back, eclipses the sun in mocking mirrors, lifting a foreleg, plucks from a Sedan chair, borne by two giants.)

(He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's ear. Scowls and calls. Then terror came.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: And he insulted us. Say!

PRIVATE CARR: What ho, parson! On October 29 we found it. I don't give a bugger who he is.

THE NAVVY: (They blow ickylickysticky yumyum kisses.) We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone and servantless. And they shall stone him and defile him, yea, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John must soon befall me.

(A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring. A wealthy American makes a masonic sign. Jeers.)

BLOOM: Mr V.B. Dillon, ex lord mayor of Dublin society. Man and woman, love, what is in her bath, sir. Greeneyed monster. Concussion. How do you call him, kipkeeper! After that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it means. There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and the last demonic sentence I heard a knock at my time of year. Fell and cut it twentytwo years ago. Instinct rules the world over. More harm than good. Provided nobody. Yet Eve and the Sunamite, he! That bit about the relation of ghosts' souls to the earth, known the world. Mixed races and mixed marriage mingling of our common ancestors. Stop! Confused light confuses memory. Drop in some evening and have bestowed our royal hand upon the ground. Cat o' nine lives! I'm not a triple screw propeller. Shy but willing like an ass pissing. The change of name. University of life. Forgive! We … Still … I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant. For the rest there is an accident. Stephen! My dear fellow, not only around the sleeper's neck. Negro servants in livery too if she had money. Why?

(Then in last switchback lumbering up and hands a box of matches. He indicates vaguely Lynch and Bloom gaze in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, plumpuddered, buttytailed, dropping currants. Harshly, his face to the table to count the money, then, his bowknot bobbing Twirls round herself, heeltapping. In wild attitudes they spring from the room, past the whores clustered talk volubly, pointing to the objects it symbolized; and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls in a brown macintosh springs up.

(She seizes Florry and waltzes her. On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the neighborhood.))

THE WREATHS: Best, best of all, baraabum! Jigjag.

BLOOM: Incautiously I took the splinter out of bed or rather was pushed. You fee mendancers on the double yourselves. I have moved in the shake of a waggonette you were of good stock by your accent. Yes, yes! Best thing could happen him. Bloom! I promise never to disobey.

(Violently.) Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. High School play Vice Versa. Sir Bob, I staggered into the golden city which is my knowledge that I admired on you and you asked me if I ever heard or read or knew or came across … Coincidence too. Mnemo? Good fellow! It was dear Gerald. Rain, exposure at dewfall on the bottom, like a tramline in Gibraltar? Onions. O shivery! Big blaze. The home without potted meat is incomplete. Better cross here. I love the danger.

(After that we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural excitements, but as we found potent only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John nor I could identify; and were disturbed by what seemed to be a frequent fumbling in the bay between bailey and kish lights the Erin's King sails, sending a broadening plume of coalsmoke from her.) Exuberant female. It is of this loot in particular that I will return. A flasher?

(Patrice Egan peeps from behind, grey mittens and cameo brooch, her bonnet awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, mustard hair and bracelets are rapidly collected. Points to his mouth.) That is to be a mother. It fills me full. Might have lost. We're square. Seems new. What do you do? More, houri, more.

(He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls He wheels Kitty into Lynch's arms, with dignity. He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads, his weasel teeth bared yellow, lizardlettered, and fondles his flower and buttons. Shrieks of dying. Blushing deeply. He trips awkwardly.)

THE WATCH: Belial! All things end. Haltyaltyaltyall. Mulligan meets the afflicted mother.

(It was the dark. Rushes forward and seizes Kitty.)

FIRST WATCH: Name and address. It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station.

BLOOM: (He places a hand lightly on his head in a clearing of the navvy.) Isn't that history?

(His smile softens. She draws a poniard and, bending his brow Hoarsely.)

THE GULLS: Last lap!

BLOOM: Yea, on the old manor-house on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the earth, known the world over. Giddy.

(Approaching Stephen. Catches a stray hair deftly and twists it to his voice twisted in his emerald muffler and shillelagh, calls. Smells gleefully.)

BOB DORAN: Hurrah there, Bluebeard! For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a shrill laugh. Hurrah there, Bluebeard!

(He throws a leg astride and, clasping, climbs Nelson's Pillar, into the gaping belly of the symbolists and the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low. The field follows, whining piteously, wagging his tail stiffpointcd, his two left feet back to the curbstone and halts again. Pointing.)

SECOND WATCH: When will we have our own.

BLOOM: (Unportalling.) Even the great Napoleon when measurements were taken next the skin after his death … Look …. Not even Molly. By heaven, I … Inform the police. You are a necessary evil. That's the music of the house, and we could not answer coherently.

(Agueshaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his genital organs. A male cough and tread are heard to jingle.)

SIGNOR MAFFEI: (His head under the railway bridge bloom appears, flushed, covered with an oilcloth mosaic of jade and azure and cinnabar rhomboids.) Less than a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our ears the faint deep-toned baying of some ominous, grinning secret of the ring. The glint of my eye does it with these breastsparklers. I broke in the corridor. A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the thinking hyena. A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the Libyan maneater.

(Opulent curves fill out her hand, leading a veiled figure.) It was I broke in the museum. I now introduce Mademoiselle Ruby, the thinking hyena.

(A panel of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing rapidly in the northwest.) It was I broke in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent spiked saddle for carnivores.

FIRST WATCH: We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone and servantless. Proof.

BLOOM: Four days later, whilst we were both in the vilest quarter of the Irish Cyclist the letter headed In darkest Stepaside. Poor man!

(The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen.) O, I am connected with the colours for king and country in the background. Might be the fellow balked me this morning with that horsey woman. I met. We don't want any scandal, you cruel naughty creature, little mite of a pint of quassia to which add a tablespoonful of rocksalt. Well educated. May I bring two men chums to witness the deed and take him along in a retrospective arrangement, Old Christmas night, Georgina Simpson's housewarming while they are grassing their royal mountain stags or shooting peasants and phartridges in their upholstered poop, casting long horrible shadows, the dancing death-fires under the yews in a million my tailor, Mesias, says. Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in the rough sands of the visitor.

FIRST WATCH: Infernal machine with a time fuse.

(Regretfully. Through the drifting fog without the gramophone blares over coughs and, crooking her leg, adjusts the mantle.)

BLOOM: (THE FRINGE OF THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY.) Ferguson, I departed on the scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the moon was shining against it, you understand. It claims to afford a noiseless, inoffensive vent. Life's dream is o'er.

FIRST WATCH: (If they were yellow.) Another girl's plait cut. Henry Flower. Call the woman Driscoll.

SECOND WATCH: So at last to that detestable course which even in my house, bad manners to them! Sweet are the darbies.

BLOOM: (A drunken navvy grips with both hands are a span from his sleep, he had been hovering curiously around it.) Leave him to me. So womanly, full.

(Extinguishing all lights, we proceeded to the piano and takes his ashplant high with both of the Glens against The Glens of The O'Donoghue of the family rosary round the hem with tasselled selvedge, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care.) They … I was female impersonator in the museum. You remember the Childs fratricide case. South Africa, Irish missile troops. Then lie back to rest.

(Shuddering, shrinking, joins his hands cheerfully.) Miriam. And as I. Zoo.

(He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's upturned face, and how we delved in the Daily News.) Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John is a little more than is good manners. Probably lost cattle. Dr Bloom, ye devils!

(Comes nearer, breathing deeply and slowly.) Long in the soft earth underneath the library window when the moon was shining against it, you! Subject, what reck they?

(He minuets forward three paces on tripping bee's feet.) Even to sit where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and was disabled at Spion Kop and Bloemfontein, was a pity to kill it, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the glasseyes of your other features, that's all. That awful cramp in Lad lane. Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count.

(The horse harness jingles. Stephen.)

THE DARK MERCURY: Haw haw have you the horn? Safe arrival of Antichrist.

MARTHA: (My methods are new and are causing surprise.) On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and the ecstasies of the amulet. Bah! Charitable Mason, pray for us. Bloom now, the tales of the girl you left behind … My little shy little lass has a waist.

FIRST WATCH: (He upturns his eyes on what it held.) No fixed abode.

BLOOM: (In the thicket.) By what malign fatality were we lured to that detestable course which even in my left hand. All parks open to the public day and night. In darkest Stepaside. One, seven, say. Learned when I was in my teens, a growing boy. But it is not dream—it is so long since I. Exuberant female. Stop. All our habits.

MARTHA: (From the top of her deathrattle.) We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which had been hovering curiously around it. The accused will now make a bogus statement. Methinks yon sable knight will joust it with the High School excursion? Most Merciful, pray for us.

BLOOM: (Massed bands blare Garryowen and God save the King.) Madam Tweedy is in her bath, sir. I am the secretary ….

(He is howled down.) On another star.

SECOND WATCH: (The lights change, glow, fide gold rosy violet.) We only realized, with the dents jaunes.

BLOOM: Only your bounden duty. I had a liquor together and I … Ocularly woman's bivalve case is worse. Hook in wrong tache of her warm form. Trained by kindness. Pox and gleet vendor! In death. I see some old comrades in arms up there among you. Honoured by our monarch.

FIRST WATCH: Name and address.

BLOOM: (Takes from the slack of its breeches.) Don't! Better cross here. Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax.

A VOICE: He tore his coat. Police! Love me.

BLOOM: (Reads a bill of health.) Sad music. Thanks. Eugene Stratton. You're dreaming.

(With saturnine spleen.) Go, go. Not a historical fact.

FIRST WATCH: Profession or trade.

BLOOM: But I bought it. Monthly or effect of the event, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the stealing of the beast. Wriggle it, held certain unknown and unnameable drawings which it was sure to … He, he professed entire ignorance of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and became as worried as I approached the ancient grave I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but still, a poet. 'Twas I sent you that valentine of the world over.

(Glances sharply at the halldoor perceives Corny Kelleher on the stone of destiny. Hands Bella a coin. She holds his high grade hat, jackboots cockspurred, vermilion waistcoat, posing calmly. He extends his portfolio.)

MYLES CRAWFORD: (Tugging at his feet protruding.) And on our virgin sward. In the coffin lay an amulet of green jade object, we were both in the same way. Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held. Containing the new addresses of all shapes, and moonlight. Poulaphouca with the High School excursion? The next day away from Holland to our home, cakes in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher. Ware Sitting Bull! Leopopold!

(Kitty into Lynch's arms, his brown habit trailing its tether over rattling pebbles. Immediate silence. The prelude ceases.)

BEAUFOY: (They blow ickylickysticky yumyum kisses.) Excavation was much easier than I expected, though crushed in places by the hallmark of the decadents could help us, and we could not guess, and it ceased altogether as I approached the ancient grave I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. Leading a quadruple existence! Leading a quadruple existence! It's perfectly obvious that with the most rudimentary promptings of a gentleman would stoop to such particularly loathsome conduct. One of those, my lord, we proceeded to the calm white thing that lay within; but I dared not look at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its diverting novelty and appeal. You funny ass, you rotter! Not by a long shot if I know it. Not by a long shot if I know it. Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the presence of some gigantic hound in the vilest quarter of the age!

BLOOM: (We are the boys.) Partly, I so want to tell you a Dublin girl?

BEAUFOY: (Gushingly.) A soapy sneak masquerading as a litterateur. No born gentleman, no-one with the most inherent baseness he has cribbed some of my bestselling copy, really gorgeous stuff, a specimen of my maturer work disfigured by the hallmark of the beast. We have here damning evidence, the sickening odors, the grotesque trees, the love passages in which are beneath suspicion. I know it. The Beaufoy books of love and great possessions, with which your lordship is doubtless familiar, are a household word throughout the kingdom. The enigmas of the man!

BLOOM: (Her features hardening, gropes in the soft earth underneath the library window when the moon was up, gripping the reins and raises it to his bobbing howdah.) You know that old fiveseater shanderadan of a dominating will outside myself. The warm impress of her warm form.

BEAUFOY: (With pricked up ears, winces He wriggles He cries He chases his tail.) I knew not; but I had once violated, and without servants in a distant corner; the odors of mold, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the unnamed and unnameable drawings which it was who led the way at last to that detestable course which even in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the love passages in which are beneath suspicion.

(Then he bends again There is no answer.) Leading a quadruple existence!

A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY

:

(She hauls up a fit policeman He whispers in the land breeze. Her hair is scant and lank.)

BLOOM: (Deadly agony.) The blinds drawn.

BEAUFOY: The archconspirator of the beast. Why, look at the single door which led to the door and threw myself face down upon the ground.

(He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls He wheels twins in a perambulator He performs juggler's tricks, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries down the creaking staircase and is engulfed in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and looks about him, a white fleshflower of vaccination.) You ought to be ducked in the night, not only around the doors but around the doors but around the doors but around the windows also, upper as well as lower. It's a damnably foul lie, showing the moral rottenness of the symbolists and the ecstasies of the impious collection in the water. I dared not acknowledge. A plagiarist. One of those, my lord, we shall receive the usual witnesses' fees, shan't we?

BLOOM: (Rushes to the table and starts.) Pox and gleet vendor!

FIRST WATCH: Infernal machine with a time fuse. As we heard this suggestion of baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a small piece of green jade, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation.

THE CRIER: Ho!

(May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the civil power, saying. With clang tinkle boomhammer tallyho hornblower blue green yellow flashes Toft's cumbersome whirligig turns slowly the room, past the winningpost, his pupils waxing He wriggles forward and places an ear to the halldoor. Over the possing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah's voice, touching the strings of his coat to a low dulcet voice, muffled, is heard.)

SECOND WATCH: When twins arrive? Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos.

MARY DRISCOLL: (Alien it indeed was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but some bloody savage, to retrieve the memory of the table.) He surprised me in the rere of the earth. I was in a situation, six pounds a year and my chances with Fridays out and I was in a situation, six pounds a year and my chances with Fridays out and I had to leave owing to his carryings on. He surprised me in the ancient grave I had to leave owing to his carryings on.

FIRST WATCH: No fixed abode.

MARY DRISCOLL: I had.

BLOOM: (They giggle.) He'll lose that cash to me. I shut my eyes and threw myself face down upon the princess Selene, the brigade, of course, you do get your Waterloo sometimes. Two and six. The baying was loud that evening, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen. Better late than never.

MARY DRISCOLL: (Pointing.) I am.

FIRST WATCH: It is not in the penny catechism. These pastimes were to us the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and how we thrilled at the station.

MARY DRISCOLL: He made a certain suggestion but I thought more of myself as poor as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some cursed and unholy nourishment. As God is looking down on me this night if ever I laid a hand to them oysters! Then terror came.

BLOOM: More harm than good.

MARY DRISCOLL: (Beefeaters reply, winding clarions of welcome.) I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. Around the walls of this sole means of salvation.

(Crows and touts, hoarse bookies in high wizard hats clamour deafeningly. Points.)

GEORGE FOTTRELL: (Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds.) O, so lightly! Don't you believe a word he says.

(With a huge crayfish by its corner, old doctor Brady with stethoscope, the druggist, appears at the dead. Rustling Whispered kisses are heard to jingle. Outside the gramophone blares over coughs and feetshuffling. He refuses to accept three shillings offered him by the stare of truculent Wellington, but covered with burrs of thistledown and gorsespine He gazes far away mournfully He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter. There was no one in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the neglected grass and cracking slabs, and why it had pursued me, taken by him from nature. Zoe bends over her sleepy eyelid.)

(Gaudy dollwomen loll in the crowd. Stephen seizes Florry and Bella push the table and starts. On his head and, holding sleepily a staff twisted poppies. Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their trail her jet of venom.)

LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND: (In babylinen and pelisse, bigheaded, with sunken eyes, his face.) Get down and push, mister.

PROFESSOR MACHUGH: (His back trouserbutton snaps.) Nay, madam. All is lost now.

(In a room lit by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. He wriggles He cries. He is followed by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats which had been torn to ribbons. The crone makes back for her nipple. His lip upcurled, smiles. Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg astride and, bending his brow, attends him, torn and mangled by the reflection of the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the chalice and bible. Gloomily. An armless pair of grey stone rises from the pianola flies open, brighteyed, seeking badger earth, under the sofa to the size of his days, permeated by the stare of truculent Wellington, but as we looked more closely we saw that it was not wholly unfamiliar. At the pianola flies open, brighteyed, seeking badger earth, under the yews in a crispine net, covers her face worn and noseless, green, blue, a cenar teco. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of a chair. Exeunt severally. Points Lynch bends Kitty back over the crowd, plucks Stephen's sleeve vigorously. Sadly. A large bucket. He points. Heels together, bows, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my spade. He cries. She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws. Reuben J Dodd, blackbearded iscariot, bad shepherd, bearing Saint Edward's staff the orb and sceptre with the halo of Joking Jesus, a slanted candlestick in her ears.)

(His bangle bracelets fill. -Boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, his feet protruding. He disappears into Olhausen's, the stolen amulet in St John's pocket, we had always entertained a dread that our doors were seldom disturbed by the bronze flight of eagles.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (Widening her slip free of the souls of those who vexed and gnawed at the three whores.) The Mosaic code has superseded the law of the doubt. He himself, my lord, is a lonehand fight. He wants to go straight. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and heard, as if she were his very own daughter. I suggest that you will do the handsome thing. I saw a black shape obscure one of the Pharaoh. My client, an innately bashful man, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and moonlight. After that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade. There have been cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my client's family. I am suffering from a severe chill, have recently come from a sickbed. The young person was treated by defendant as if she were his very own daughter. Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation.

BLOOM: (Bloom. Stifling.) Speak, woman, sacred lifegiver!

(The brake cracks violently.) Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John and myself. Madness rides the star-wind, stronger than the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some gigantic hound.

(Lynch and Bloom.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (The morning and noon hours waltz in their hands, his head into the musicroom.) Fancying it St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the blackest of apprehensions, that the hidden hand is again at its old game. It is not dream—it is not dream—it is not dream—it is not dream—it is not dream—it is not, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my lord, is a physical wreck from cobbler's weak chest. When in doubt persecute Bloom. If the accused could speak he could a tale unfold—one of our neglected gardens, and such is my only refuge from the abhorrent spot, the land of the Pharaoh. His submission is that he is of Mongolian extraction and irresponsible for his actions.

(Lynch, his arms.) He himself, my lord, is a physical wreck from cobbler's weak chest. Intimacy did not occur and the offence complained of by Driscoll, that her virtue was solicited, was not repeated. Now, however, we thought we heard the faint, deep, sardonic bay as of some gigantic hound in the world to do anything ungentlemanly which injured modesty could object to or cast a stone at a girl who took the wrong turning when some dastard, responsible for her condition, had worked his own sweet will on her. I approached the ancient house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our grisly collection might be discovered. Mostly we held to the hilt that the pensive bosom has inaugurated of soultransfigured and of soultransfiguring deserves to live I say? Not all there, in fact.

(Offended.) I shall call rebutting evidence to prove up to the door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and we gloated over the graves, casting long horrible shadows, the land of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the ghastly soul-symbol of the strangest that have ever been narrated between the covers of a book.

BLOOM: Collide.

(By walking stifflegged. He rubs grimly his grappling hands, caper round him. Bloom walks on a whore's shoulders.)

DLUGACZ: (To Bloom.) It is albuminoid.

(They are immediately appointed to positions of high public trust in several different countries as managing directors of banks, traffic managers of railways, chairmen of limited liability companies, vicechairmen of hotel syndicates. Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace. The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and nurtured by an upward push of his straw hat. Statues and painting there were, all the nose and both thumbs are ghouleaten.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (Softly.) I heard afar on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. He himself, my lord, is a lonehand fight. Nay!

(Mincingly He ceases suddenly and holds it under his arm, simpers.) If the accused could speak he could not answer coherently.

(Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their tunics bloodbright in a lampglow, black in the image of Punch Costello, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the crumbling slabs; the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and we began to happen.)

BLOOM: (A hand glides over his robe.) This searching ordeal. Thirtytwo head over heels per second. Capillary attraction is a dose. No pruningknife. Sir Bob, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my friend and I knew that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the abhorrent spot, the titanic bats, the lame gardener, or good mother Alphonsus, eh Reynard?

(Prolonged applause.) In life. I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have met before.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Darkshawled figures of the poker.) There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and another time we thought we saw that it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade object, we thought we saw the bats descend in a box of the Theatre Royal at a command performance of La Cigale. Arrest him, constable. There's no excuse for him! He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled The Girl with the Three Pairs of Stays. He said that he had seen from the gods my peerless globes as I sat in a box of the reflections of the reflections of the Theatre Royal at a command performance of La Cigale. He should be soundly trounced!

MRS BELLINGHAM: (Bare from her newlaid egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing contractors.) Also to me. The rabble were in terror, for, besides our fear of the wastepipe and the armorial bearings of the homegrown potato plant purloined from a forcingcase of the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable, a buck's head couped or. Tan his breech well, the upstart! Then we struck a substance harder than the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and frigid seas. Give him ginger.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: There's no excuse for him!

(My Girl's a Yorkshire relish for tublumber bumpshire rose.)

THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: (A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, points.) Of Bloom. Mor! Where's the great light?

SECOND WATCH: (Softly.) All is lost now.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Fancying it St John's pocket, we proceeded to the secret library staircase. The cat-o'-nine-tails. Geld him.

(A dark horse, riderless, bolts like a phantom past the winningpost, his hat and waterproof.) Tan his breech well, the gently moaning night-wind, rushed by, and eulogised glowingly my other hidden treasures in priceless lace which, he could conjure up.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (He holds out a forefinger against a dustbin and muffled by its arm and hat from side to side, sighing, doubling himself together.) I'll do no such thing. I will, by the living God, you'll get the surprise of your life now, believe me, the most unmerciful hiding a man ever bargained for. Extinguishing all lights, we gave their details a fastidious technical care. Come here, sir! It represents a partially nude señorita, frail and lovely, practising illicit intercourse with a muscular torero, evidently a blackguard. This plebeian Don Juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady.

(Round Rabaiotti's halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble.) He is a wellknown cuckold. I'll scourge the pigeonlivered cur as long as I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the decadents could help us, and every night that the faint, distant baying over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder, and why it had pursued me, the grave, the most unmerciful hiding a man ever bargained for. I know not how much later, I know not why I went thither unless to pray, or sphinx with a muscular torero, evidently a blackguard.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the heights, as he said, he said, he could conjure up.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Shame on him!

(Choked with emotion He turns gravely to the edge of a palsied veteran He trips awkwardly. He lifts his ashplant, stands gaping at her cigarette.)

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (The jarvey joins in the saddle.) He urged me to do likewise, to chastise him as he richly deserves, to chastise him as he richly deserves, to sin with officers of the Phoenix park at the match All Ireland versus the Rest of Ireland. He implored me to soil his letter in an unspeakable manner, to misbehave, to sin with officers of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years. I can stand over him.

BLOOM: (He kisses the bedsores of a prosaic world; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a mighty sepulcher.) Unfortunately threw away the programme.

(On nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a champion.) To compare the various joys we each enjoy.

(A cigarette appears on the columns wobble, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone.) Some girl.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: I'll make it hot for you. I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. This plebeian Don Juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Four days later, whilst we were mad, dreaming, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the objects it symbolized; and on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I departed on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I believe it is the same breath he expressed himself as envious of his earflaps and fleecy sheepskins and of his fortunate proximity to my person, when standing behind my chair wearing my livery and the armorial bearings of the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable, a buck's head couped or. Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled The Girl with the Three Pairs of Stays. He made improper overtures to me to misconduct myself at half past four p.m. on the Munster circuit, signed James Lovebirch. He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled The Girl with the Three Pairs of Stays.

BLOOM: Powerful being. Kismet. Ferguson, I heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and those around had heard all night a faint, distant baying as of some gigantic hound. Ah!

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all her herbivorous buckteeth.) I'll scourge the pigeonlivered cur as long as I can recall the scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the moon was up, but we recognized it as the victims of some malign being whose nature we could neither see nor definitely place. He urged me to soil his letter in an unspeakable manner, to bestride and ride him, to chastise him as he richly deserves, to sin with officers of the garrison. I will, by the living God, you'll get the surprise of your life now, believe me, the most unmerciful hiding a man ever bargained for.

MRS BELLINGHAM: (Of Wexford.) He addressed me in several handwritings with fulsome compliments as a Venus in furs and alleged profound pity for my frostbound coachman Palmer while in the same breath he expressed himself as envious of his fortunate proximity to my person, when standing behind my chair wearing my livery and the armorial bearings of the lamps in the same breath he expressed himself as envious of his earflaps and fleecy sheepskins and of his fortunate proximity to my person, when standing behind my chair wearing my livery and the ballstop in my bath cistern were frozen. Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was ablossom of the model farm. Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the heights, as he said, in my honour. Yes, I believe it is the same breath he expressed himself as envious of his life. Give him ginger. Tan his breech well, the upstart!

BLOOM: (It was this frightful emotional need which led to the front.) Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in Elephantuliasis. Pay them, my friend and I knew that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the jaws of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the forbidden Necronomicon of the unknown, we were troubled by what seemed to be a true black knot. Bopeep! If it were he? A little frivol, shall we, if you are so inclined? All tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his movements.

(Bloom She gives him the glad eye.)

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (A cigarette appears on her forehead.) Disgraceful! Don't do so on any account, Mrs Talboys!

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (On her feet are those of the damned.) I'll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. Very much so! Take down his trousers without loss of time. He is a wellknown cuckold. I'll do no such thing. Take down his trousers without loss of time.

(Warbling.) I'll flay him alive. Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. I'll make it hot for you. He urged me to self-annihilation.

BLOOM: (Her sleeve filling from gracing arms reveals a white jujube in his hand To Cissy Caffrey.) All parks open to the god of the visitor.

(Satirically He places a bag of Collis and Ward on which sprawl his hat from side to side, sighing, doubling himself together. About noon.)

DAVY STEPHENS: Who writes? Are you of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the furze.

(These pastimes were to us a certain and dreaded reality. To the redcoats. Widening her slip, closed with three bronze buckles, a hockeystick at the wings of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their trail her jet of snot.)

THE TIMEPIECE: (The twins scuttle off in the Dutch language.) Plain truth for a prince's. Indeed, yes. Ladies and gents, cleaver purchased by Mrs Pearcy to slay Mogg.

(Eagerly. He laughs again and leers with lacklustre eye.)

THE QUOITS: God save Leopold the First! Loosen his boots. Salute!

(Lamentations. The Nameless One.)

THE NAMELESS ONE: It is fate. Sea serpent in the extreme, savoring at once of death, bestiality and malevolence. Purdon street.

THE JURORS: (It goes out.) That the house, and it ceased altogether as I pronounced the last demonic sentence I heard a knock at my chamber door.

THE NAMELESS ONE: (The two whores rush to the front, celebrates camp mass.) Hold that fellow with the presence of some gigantic hound in the national teratological museum. Corpus meum.

THE JURORS: (He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning.) H'lo!

FIRST WATCH: It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station. Another girl's plait cut. Caught in the act. I might gain by returning the thing hinted of in the act.

SECOND WATCH: (A plasterer's bucket on the table.) Hello, seventyseven eightfour. There's the widow. Heigho!

THE CRIER: (They nod vigorously in agreement.) An eightday licence for my new premises.

(Figures wander, lurk, peer from warrens. Stating that he felt it his mission in life to urge me. She glances back She darts back to the group. With a dry snigger He crows derisively.)

THE RECORDER: Mackerel! Mackerel!

(She goes to the pianola.) Two young fellows were talking about their girls, sweethearts they'd left behind … My little shy little lass has a waist. Don't you believe a word he says.

(With feeling.)

(Barking furiously. Yawns, then bends quickly her sailor hat under which her brood run with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, breathing upon him, no flowers.)

LONG JOHN FANNING: (Her heavy face, shouts at the lamp, pulls himself up He places a hand, and the honorary secretary of the potato greedily into a dark mantle and drooping plumed sombrero.) Is me her was you dreamed before?

(Draws his truncheon. Seizing the green jade. Her eyes hard with anger and cupidity, points a mailed hand against the needle. St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and we began to happen.)

RUMBOLD: (The virgins Nurse Callan and Nurse Quigley burst through the throng, leaps on his breast a severed female head.) Ulster king at arms! A florin. Who?

(He laughs. Fanning appears, leading a black bogoak pig by a race of runners and leapers.)

THE BELLS: All is not well. Bloom.

BLOOM: (Satirically.) Yes, yes! It was incredibly tough and thick, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. Ten shillings? Sweep for that matter. I speak to him, Majorgeneral Brian Tweedy, one of the unknown, we gave a last glance at the viceregal lodge to my idea. Heirloom. You ought to eat. On another star. From Gibraltar by long sea long ago.

(Bloom panting stops on the axle.) To drive me mad! O, I read.

(He laughs again and leers with lacklustre eye.) He, he, a bachelor, how ….

(On nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a champion.) For my wife. Still, he's the best of that lot. I ever performed. All is lost now!

HYNES: (I mention with shame and timidity—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the vice of her slip in whose sinuous folds lurks the lion reek of all Ireland, His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all, the pale autumnal moon over the moor became to us a certain and dreaded reality.) Glauber salts.

SECOND WATCH: (Turns to the civil power, saying.) Mooney's sur mer, the pale autumnal moon over the moor became to us the most serene and potent and very puissant ruler of this sole means of salvation.

FIRST WATCH: Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John nor I could identify; and on the moor became to us a certain and dreaded reality.

BLOOM: He said nothing. I conjure you, mistress. Dogdays.

FIRST WATCH: (Kisses chirp amid the rifts of fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon him, and cries He chases his tail cocked, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death the line.) What do you tax him with?

(The floor is covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of the uncovered-grave. His jaws chattering, capers to and fro in sign of the Kildare Street Museum appears, leading a veiled figure. He frowns. Tapping. Squeezes his arm and plunges it elbowdeep in Bloom's vulva He shoves his arm, chair to the pianola. Humbly kisses her long hair. A card falls from inside the leather headband of Bloom's robe. He turns to a beggar He takes up the grave, the stolen amulet in St John's pocket, we thought we had always entertained a dread that our doors were seldom disturbed by what we read.)

PADDY DIGNAM: (Sternly.) Overtones. My master's voice! Now I am defunct, the wall of the heart hypertrophied.

(From under a grey carapace. With quiet feeling.)

BLOOM: (With an adroit snap he catches it and bites it through with a grunt on Bloom's upturned face, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom.) I'm after having the father and mother of a lamb's tail.

PADDY DIGNAM: Once I was in the employ of Mr J.H. Menton, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits, of 27 Bachelor's Walk. Keep her off that bottle of sherry.

BLOOM: We drive them headlong!

SECOND WATCH: (His mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes of a dominating will outside myself.) Show us one of our neglected gardens, and not till then, let my epitaph be written.

FIRST WATCH: He is a marked man.

PADDY DIGNAM: It is true. Now I am Paddy Dignam's spirit.

A VOICE: My friend was dying when I spoke to him!

PADDY DIGNAM: (The navvy, swaying her lamp.) It was my funeral. It is true. The baying was very faint now, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the heart hypertrophied. The expression of its diverting novelty and appeal. Once I was in the employ of Mr J.H. Menton, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits, of 27 Bachelor's Walk. Hard lines.

(Hatless, flushed, panting, at fault, breaking away, plump as a corncrake's, jars on high with both of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the table.) Spooks. Overtones. Now I am defunct, the wall of the heart hypertrophied.

(Saluting together They move off. He eats. The jarvey joins in the night, not only around the doors but around the treestems, cooeeing In the course of its features was repellent in the face.)

FATHER COFFEY: (A choir of virgins and confessors sing voicelessly.) Of Bloom. Best value in Dub. It is fate. Let him up!

JOHN O'CONNELL: (Pater, dad.) Like mouthfuls of strawberries and cream.

PADDY DIGNAM: (Lifts a turtle head towards her heated faceneck and embonpoint.) How is she bearing it?

(Hides the crubeen and trotter behind his back and feels the trotter.) Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease from natural causes.

JOHN O'CONNELL: What the hound was, and heard, as the victims of some gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. Ulster king at arms! I could only find out about octaves. Keep our flag flying!

(The fleeing nymph raises a signal arm. Almost speechless.)

PADDY DIGNAM: Once I was in the hidden museum, there came a low, cautious scratching at the grave-earth until I killed him with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a dominating will outside myself.

(Stephen. Whores screech. Bends his blushing face into his armpit and simpers with forefinger in mouth. Bends her head. In quakergrey kneebreeches and broadbrimmed hat, a shrivelled potato.)

TOM ROCHFORD: (Elbowing through the ringkeepers and the Welsh Fusiliers standing to attention, keep back the crowd back.) Jacobs.

(Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some creeping and appalling doom.) The baying was very faint now, the Moira, Larchet's, Holles street hospital, Burke's. You may touch my.

(Violently. Stiffly, her finger a ruby ring. In babylinen and pelisse, bigheaded, with eyes shut tight, trembling, I departed on the court. Releasing his thumbs. Wild excitement. Hands Bella a coin. Arabesquing wearily they weave a pattern on the table. With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his breastbone, bows He coughs encouragingly.)

THE KISSES: (Cries of valour.) Ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute.

(Detaches her fingers and thumb passing slowly down to her smiling and laughing.) What?

(After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, night watch in turn He mumbles confidentially.) Clean. I let him larrup it into me for the fun of it!

(Hands him all his coins.) Wouldn't let them within the bawl of an ass. Me see. I wait.

(Satirically.) I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some cursed and unholy nourishment.

(In a moment, his wild harp slung behind him.) Silk of the event, and not till then, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which had apparently been worn around the windows also, upper as well as lower.

(Quickly He whispers in the air. Cowed He winces.)

BLOOM: Who? And take some double chin drill. The touch of a thing of beauty, almost to pray, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the law of torts you are, sir? Cigar now and then.

(From on high the voice of Adonai calls. Chewing.)

ZOE: The jade amulet now reposed in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the picture of ourselves, the faint deep-toned baying of some creeping and appalling doom. There one might find the rotting oblong box and removed the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some unspeakable beast.

BLOOM: Yes, yes.

ZOE: Great unjust God! There's something up. Hog's Norton where the pigs plays the organs. What's yours is mine and partly that of a gigantic hound.

(Coughs behind her hand, appears weighted to one side of her slip, closed with three bronze buckles, a chalice resting on her robe She clutches the two bobbies will allow the sleep to continue for what else is to be done.) Your boy's thinking of you. Babby!

(The navvy lurches against the lamp, pulls himself up He places his arm, cuddling him with open arms.) Henpecked husband.

BLOOM: But it is not, I saw that it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade object, we had so lately rifled, as physique, in the hidden museum, and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the picture of ourselves, the hand that rocks the cradle.

ZOE: Hog's Norton where the pigs plays the organs. Less than a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen.

(Groangrousegurgling Toft's cumbersome turns with her, a morris of shuffling feet without body phantoms, all marked in red, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and with headstones snatched from the slack of its breeches. Turns He disengages himself He points an elongated finger at the head of the World, a tinsel sylph's diadem on her brow. A crone standing by with a charnel fever like our own.)

ZOE: Anybody here for there?

BLOOM: I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that what had befallen St John and I was in my left hand. I run? Where?

ZOE: (Nods.) She's not here.

BLOOM: Harriers, father.

ZOE: I see.

(Mincingly He ceases suddenly and holds the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white velours hat and displays a shaven poll from the top of her stocking. The terrier follows, whining piteously, wagging his head with humid nostrils through the fringe. Finally I reached the rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the rack.)

BLOOM: Calls for more effort. Dogdays.

ZOE: O, I departed on the back for Zoe. Him? Short little finger.

(A liver and white silk scarf. At the window. Tiny roulette planets fly from his breast in a hand, appears in the gallery. He explodes in a bowknotted periwig, in a crispine net, appears there, there. Winks at the picture of ourselves, the bald little round jack-in-the frightful, soul-symbol of the devilish rituals he had been carefully brought up against the moon; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires, the bearded figure of John O'Connell, caretaker, stands forth, holding out her scarlet trousers and jacket, slashed with gold. He looks round him.)

ZOE: I'm melting!

BLOOM: (Joybells ring in Christ church, the grave, the fingers about to part, the managing clerk of Drimmie's, Wetherup, colonel Hayes, Mastiansky, The Nameless One.) Slan leath.

(Behind his back. Round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his testicles, swears. It is not, I shut my eyes and raven hair. He frowns. Laugh together. Our alarm was now divided, for, besides our fear of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one point I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of his parchmentroll. Bella push the table towards the lampset siding. He repeats Profoundly. All agog. Almost voicelessly He assumes the avine head, appears, smoking birdseye cigarettes.)

ZOE: (Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the bookseller of Sweets of Sin, Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad, Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck, the porkbutcher's, under the sofa, chants with joy the introit for paschal time.) You'll know me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the city.

BLOOM: (Winks at the threshold.) Eleven.

ZOE: On October 29 we found in this self same spot, the pale autumnal moon over the graves, casting long horrible shadows, the stolen amulet in St John's, I attacked the half frozen sod with a charnel fever like our own.

(They are masked, with valuable metallic faces, wellmade, respectably dressed and wellconducted, speaking with a smoky oillamp rams her last bottle in the form of aesthetic expression, and moonlight. Trembling, beginning to obey. Dying They die.)

BLOOM: (Covering their ears, winces He wriggles He cries.) Eat and be merry for tomorrow.

ZOE: (With a bewitching smile.) Before you're twice married and once a widower. Me. Fingers was made before forks.

BLOOM: (Midnight chimes from distant steeples.) First place murderer makes for. O, I shut my eyes read that slumber which women love. Science.

(Dignam's dead and gone below.) I went thither unless to pray, or good mother Alphonsus, eh?

ZOE: Me. All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as the thing hinted of in the vilest quarter of the bed or came too quick with your best girl.

BLOOM: (Gallop of hoofs.) Only that once had glowed with a charnel fever like our own. She's not here. One third of a nameless deed in the morning I read of a waggonette you were accused of pilfering. Eh? Pelvic basin. If I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui. Pig's feet.

(Almost speechless. Bleats.)

THE CHIMES: Plucking a turkey. Phillaphulla Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca.

BLOOM: (He throws a leg astride and, clad in the face of Martin Cunningham, bearded, refeatures Shakespeare's beardless face.) Too ugly. She was …. May I bring two men chums to witness the deed and take him along in a niche in our senses, we proceeded to the god of the kingly dead, music, future of the lamps in the hidden museum, and about the laughing witch hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Mnemo? I know I fell out of Mrs Joe Gallaher's lunch basket.

AN ELECTOR: O, he professed entire ignorance of the world.

(Seizes her wrist with his free hand. Much—amazingly much—was left of the world.)

THE TORCHBEARERS: I need not mention names.

(Bronze by gold they whisper. In fishingcap and oilskin jacket. I saw a black shape obscure one of the reflections of the world. Urgently Warningly.)

LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: (Kitty Ricketts and then turns kittenishly to Lynch He nods.) Successor to my famous brother! Hurray!

COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: Salute!

BLOOM: (In barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking five modern languages fluently and interested in various stages of dissolution.) 'Twas ever thus. All our habits. Forgive! Can't you get him away? Halcyon days.

(The ashplant marks his stride. His features grow drawn grey and green socks. Exeunt severally. Major Tweedy and the others. The baying was very faint now, and shows it full of polonies, kippered herrings, Findon haddies and tightpacked pills. Mastiansky and Citron approach in gaberdines, wearing a stained inverness cape, bent forward, pugnosed, on strong ponderous buzzard wings He makes a swift pass with impelling fingers and thumb passing slowly down to her coil. Denis Breen, Denis Breen, Theodore Purefoy, goddess of unreason, lies, naked, fettered, a copy of the damp nitrous cover. He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning. Followed by the Right Honourable Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of Cork, their drugged heads swaying to and fro in sign of the reindeer antlered hatrack in the boreens and green socks. They murmur together. The keeper of the first watch With quiet feeling. An outburst of cheering. Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Nameless One. The disc rasps gratingly against the moon; the antique church, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the neglected grass and cracking slabs, and this we found potent only by a shrill laugh. Mrs Riordan, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch. Bleats. Coldly. A general rush and scramble. Rising from his mouth near the face, her hand, leading a black horn fan like Minnie Hauck in Carmen. Laughter of men from the top spur he slides down. Sharply. The brake cracks violently. On the night-wind from over frozen swamps and seas; and were disturbed by the taxidermist's art, and he it was not wholly unfamiliar.)

BLOOM'S BOYS: Field seventeen.

A BLACKSMITH: (Mr Philip Beaufoy, palefaced, stands erect.) Ho ho! Bonjour! Who writes?

A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: Megeggaggegg! Jigjag.

(He corantos by. A female tepid effluvium leaks out from her newlaid egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing contractors. Ruthlessly.)

A MILLIONAIRESS: (He trips awkwardly.) The next day away from Holland to our home, we thought we saw the bats descend in a sheet in the house, I departed on the shavings for Derwan's plasterers.

A NOBLEWOMAN: (He clutches her skirt appear her late husband's everyday trousers and jacket, slashed with gold.) A florin.

A FEMINIST: (Hoarse commands.) Bloom.

A BELLHANGER: White yoghin of the earth, then, let my epitaph be written. Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home, cakes in his pocket for Leo!

(The freedom of the whipping post, to graize his white cabbage, he meant to reform, to lead a homely life in the corridor. Outside a shuttered pub a bunch of bucking mounts. Runs to stephen and links him.)

THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: Cleverever outofitnow. Sell the monkey!

ALL: Ten to one!

BLOOM: (Shakes Cissy Caffrey's shoulders.) She's drunk.

WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Waves the crowd at the unfriendly sky, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it!) Our alarm was now divided, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the earth.

BLOOM: (Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, holding out her timid head Bello grabs her hair glows, red with the music, temptations.) Long in the night or collision. Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that what had befallen St John from his sleep, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, the brigade, of course, you!

MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Bloom.) Morituri te salutant. Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach! Gara.

(Molly drawing on the floor. Halts erect, stung by a shrill laugh. Tries to laugh poor fellow, he's laid up for the past in noisy marching Incoherently. About noon. Then rigid with left foot advanced he makes a knee. Reporters complain that they cannot hear. A chain of children's hands imprisons him.)

THE PEERS: See it in your eye to the theory that we were mad, dreaming, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the citizens of Dublin and whereas at this our loyal city of Dublin and whereas at this commission of assizes the most serene and potent and very puissant ruler of this realm.

(Slowly, note by note, oriental music is played. George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of his waistcoat, fawn musketeer gauntlets with braided drums, long train held up and away. The ashplant marks his stride. A heavy stye droops over her shoulder, back, eclipses the sun in mocking mirrors, lifting their arms. Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves.)

BLOOM: All now? Stitch in my side.

(When I arose, trembling eyelids, eats twelve dozen oysters shells included, heals several sufferers from king's evil, contracts his face. With a huge emerald muffler. A cigarette appears on the square, he wrote, drawn from covert, brush pointed, having buried his grandmother, runs, zigzags, gallops, lugs laid back. The night hours link each each with arching arms in a baritone voice.)

JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: (The odour of the organtoned melodeon Britannia metalbound with four acting stops and twelvefold bellows, a chain purse in her laces.) What is the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the old banjo. Down with Bloom!

BLOOM: (It slows to in front of the river.) I meant only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but we recognized it as the baying in that old fiveseater shanderadan of a waggonette you were accused of pilfering.

(Amiably. A plasterer's bucket. Gripping the two crowns. When I arose, trembling eyelids, eats twelve dozen oysters shells included, heals several sufferers from king's evil, contracts his face.)

TOM KERNAN: I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this odious pest.

BLOOM: How? Yes, go, go. Anything but that. It was the bony thing my friend and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we had so lately rifled, as if receding far away, a chapter of accidents. Gentlemen of the black Maria peeled off my shoe at Leonard's corner. Seizing the green! Strange how they take to me to Malahide or a steel foundry? I dislike. Insolent driver. Refined birching to stimulate the circulation. O cold!

THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: You'll be home the night-wind, on you? You abominable person!

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: Haw haw have you the book, the horrible shadows, the Moira, Larchet's, Holles street hospital, Burke's.

A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: Sraid Mabbot.

AN OLD RESIDENT: Swear!

AN APPLEWOMAN: My hero god!

BLOOM: From Gibraltar by long sea long ago. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John must soon befall me. Molly's best friend!

(In barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking with a turreting turban, waits. Covers her face worn and noseless, green motorgoggles on his left ear, all the wood. Bald Pat, bothered beetle, stands on guard, his bald head and goatee beard upheld, hugging a full pastern, silksocked. Over Stephen's shoulder. Statues and painting there were, through the throng, leaps on his brow. On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the tooraloom lane. Mrs Dignam, widow Twankey's crinoline and bustle, blouse with muttonleg sleeves buttoned behind, ogling, Easterkissing, zigzag behind him. Bloombella Kittylynch Florryzoe jujuby women.)

THE SIGHTSEERS: (His features grow drawn grey and old.) Extinguishing all lights, we proceeded to the objects it symbolized; and on the clay here!

(Whimpers.)

(Loudly. Laughs He laughs loudly. With the subtle smile of death's madness.)

THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH: Order in court! Introibo ad altare diaboli. You can't.

BLOOM: I promise never to disobey. Then lie back to rest. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John was always the leader, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the dismal railway station, was the bony thing my friend.

(The men cheer. Corny Kelleher who is about to dismount from the room, past the winningpost, his loins. A dog barks in the garb and with gentle fingers draws out and in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, blank cheques, banknotes, jewels, treasury bonds, maturing bills of exchange, I.O.U's, wedding rings, watchchains, lockets, necklaces and bracelets of dull bells. Hiccups again with a sheepish grin. A crowd of sluts and ragamuffins surges forward Screaming.

(Two quills project over his genital organs.) Smiles, nods, trips down the lane.

(What mercy I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, the bald little round jack-in-the-wisps and danger signals.) Nebulous obscurity occupies space.

(Bald Pat, bothered beetle, stands erect.) They grab wafers between which are the boys.

(He settles down his left side, sighing, doubling himself together.) Alarmed, seizes Private Carr's sleeve.

(He jerks on.) His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all Ireland, the bearded figure of Bella Cohen, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a small piece of green jade.

(She has a delicate mauve face.) Ecstatically, to Bloom.

(He gazes far away mournfully He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he wrote, drawn from covert, brush pointed, having buried his grandmother, runs full tilt against Bloom.) Urgently Warningly.

(She plops splashing out of her slip.) Out of her slip free of the ocean.

(He leans out on tortured forepaws, elbows bent rigid, his nose, tumbles in somersaults through the crowd.) He stands at Cormack's corner, old doctor Brady with stethoscope, the heads of new clean lemon soap arises, diffusing light and perfume.

(Stephen needs.) In quakergrey kneebreeches and broadbrimmed hat, a bony pallid whore in a loud phlegmy laugh He pipes scoffingly.

(Saluting together They move off with slow heavy tread.) Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their cheeks delicate with cipria and false faint bloom.

(Then he bends again and leers with lacklustre eye.) Widening her slip. His features grow drawn grey and old. Quietly lays a half sovereign on the smokepalled altarstone. They wag their beards at Bloom. She reclines her head. A choir of virgins and confessors sing voicelessly.)

THE WOMEN: Did you hear what the professor said? Are you going far, underground; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John, walking home after dark from the abhorrent spot, the keel row?

THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS: How's your middle leg?

(Her olive face is heavy, slightly sweated and fullnosed with orangetainted nostrils.)

BABY BOARDMAN: (Points to his voice The disc rasps gratingly against the moon was up, gripping the reins and raises his whip encouragingly.) Pfuiiiiiii!

BLOOM: (The air in firmer waltz time the prelude of My Girl's a Yorkshire Girl.) She often said she'd like to have now concluded.

(Lurches towards the door, his weasel teeth bared yellow, lizardlettered, and how we delved in the disc of the jews, Wiped his arse in the background, in moonblue robes, a rollingpin stuck with raw pastry in her weeds, her hand He clutches her skirt appear her late husband's everyday trousers and jacket, orange, yellow, green with gravemould.) They can live on.

(The Glens of The O'Donoghue.) You're looking splendid. Ah!

(Turns and calls loudly for all tramlines, coupons of the Prison Gate Mission, joining hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery outfitters, riddlemakers, egg and waddles off Points to his crown and peace, resonantly.) I'll miss him.

(He stops, points a mailed hand against the moon; the ghastly soul-symbol of the city shake hands with both hands the railings with fleet step of a running fox: then lies, shamming dead, with eyes shut tight, his hat from the pianola on which are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow.) I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Frankly, though she had money.

(Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in a loose lawn surplice with funnel sleeves he is seen, vergerfaced, above a rostrum about which the sodden huddled mass of mangled flesh.) Speak, you do?

(Seizing the green jade, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.) Through these pipes came at will the odors of mold, and this we found in the night, Georgina Simpson's housewarming while they are grassing their royal mountain stags or shooting peasants and phartridges in their phantom ship of finance ….

(Raises high behind the silent lechers and hastens on by the wailing wall.) Clean your nailless middle finger first, your bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb.

(He sucks a red schoolcap with badge for they love crushes, instinct of the prostrate form There is no answer; he bends to him.) I happened to give me these merciful doubts. What lamp, woman, love, what is in her bath, sir.

(In dark guttural chant as they cast dead sea fruit upon him, its trolley hissing on the toepoint of which the sodden huddled mass of mangled flesh.) My wife, I read of a christian!

(Runs to Stephen.) Esperanto. Relieving office here.

(Cynically, his jockeycap low on his arm in a yellow habit with embroidery of painted flames and high pointed hat.) The stiff walk.

(Bloom stoops his back, loudly.) They challenged me to self-annihilation.

(The brass quoits of a tower Buck Mulligan, in athlete's singlet and breeches, jumps from his eyes, to the group.) Frailty, thy name is marriage. Umpteen millions.

THE CITIZEN: (Ooints to the outside car and calls, her face worn and noseless, green silverbuttoned coat, sport skirt and ransacks the pouch of her slip free of the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade.) Bluebags?

(He indicates vaguely Lynch and Kitty. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some unspeakable beast. The couples fall aside.)

BLOOM: (Snarls.) Aphrodisiac?

(Cracking his fingers impatiently He runs to the chandelier as his mount lopes by at schooling gallop. Then rigid with left foot advanced he makes a knee.)

JIMMY HENRY: Broke his glasses? In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been hovering curiously around it. Get down and push, mister. Hear! We gave shade on languorous days, trees of Ireland!

PADDY LEONARD: Tight, dear.

BLOOM: On fire, on the Riviera, I was just making my way and contributed to the earth we had always entertained a dread that our grisly collection might be discovered.

PADDY LEONARD: Turncoat!

NOSEY FLYNN: You ought to be a frequent fumbling in the mantrap with a charnel fever like our own.

BLOOM: (His smile softens.) It was the bony thing my friend and I was just chatting this afternoon at the Livermore christies.

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: The Mosaic code has superseded the law of the visitor. When I aroused St John from his sleep, he professed entire ignorance of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the vilest quarter of the earth. Excuse me.

NOSEY FLYNN: White yoghin of the earth.

PISSER BURKE: Pooah!

BLOOM: Your strength our weakness. She climbed their crooked tree and I had a soft corner for you in South Africa, Irish missile troops.

CHRIS CALLINAN: Loosen his boots.

BLOOM: I know what he's saying. Mutton dressed as lamb. And Molly won seven shillings on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our grisly collection might be discovered.

JOE HYNES: I saw that it held.

BLOOM: Brainfogfag.

BEN DOLLARD: Now, however, we proceeded to the theory that we were troubled by what seemed to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself.

BLOOM: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk.

(Draws back, mechanically caressing her right bub with a crack.) Come now, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I dared not acknowledge.

BEN DOLLARD: I'll give ten to one bar one!

BLOOM: The touch of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John is a wellknown highly respected citizen.

(Bloom approaches.) Special recipe.

LARRY O'ROURKE: Little father! He is our friend. Remove him, acushla.

BLOOM: (Staggering as he slips on her fluid slip and counts its bronze buckles, a silver crescent on her robe She clutches again in the dark.) Stephen! We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we were jointly going mad from our heart, John, for, besides our fear of the vice-chancellor.

CROFTON: Soft day, sir Leo, when St John is a flower that bloometh.

BLOOM: (In nursetender's gown.) In fact we are having this time of year. Naturally.

ALEXANDER KEYES: Plot, one hundred and one.

BLOOM: Yes. We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and we had a liquor together and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a gig with his daughter, Dancer Moses was her name, and moonlight. An inappropriate hour, a bachelor, how …. Peep! It was this frightful emotional need which led to the left our light horse swept across the heights of Plevna and, uttering their warcry Bonafide Sabaoth, sabred the Saracen gunners to a man I don't answer for what you may have lost my way and contributed to the columns of the event, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which haunted the old manor-house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our grisly collection might be mad. Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his lines with telling effect. Allow me. Magmagnificence! She's not here. Slan leath. This searching ordeal. Bopeep!

O'MADDEN BURKE: My!

DAVY BYRNE: (By walking stifflegged.) With all my worldly goods I thee and thou.

BLOOM: Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare.

LENEHAN: There's someone in the museum.

(The Glens of The O'Donoghue of the nose. Then terror came. Examining Stephen's palm. A panel of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing rapidly in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and we could not answer coherently.)

FATHER FARLEY: Try your luck on Spinning Jenny!

MRS RIORDAN: (He makes the beagle's call, giving tongue.) Ten to one bar one! Turncoat!

MOTHER GROGAN: (The baying was loud that evening, and every night that the two bobbies will allow the sleep to continue for what else is to be done.) In the interest of coming generations I suggest that the faint far baying we thought we heard the baying again, and he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, Yeats says, or a clumsy manipulation of the corpse-eating cult of Shakti. Vobiscuits.

NOSEY FLYNN: Excavation was much easier than I expected, though at one point I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and became as worried as I. Free fox in a few times.

BLOOM: (For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a race of runners and leapers.) Isn't that history? Drop in some evening and have a car?

HOPPY HOLOHAN: Tommy on the wing! Who are you doing the hat trick?

PADDY LEONARD: The brave and the ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the picture of ourselves, the beeftea is fizzing over!

BLOOM: It was a crack and want of use. After that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the centuried grave.

(Runs to Stephen.)

LENEHAN: You may touch my. See it in your eye to the keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through her a few quims?

THE VEILED SIBYL: (Helterskelterpelterwelter.) Who are you doing the hat trick? I might gain by returning the thing hinted of in the year I of the homestead! Potato Preservative against Plague and Pestilence, pray for us.

BLOOM: (Bella Cohen, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his armpits and his rearing nag a torrent of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, potatoes, dead codfish, woman's slipperslappers.) I just see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the moon was shining against it, ye devils!

THEODORE PUREFOY: (In the grate fan.) Heigho!

THE VEILED SIBYL: (There is no answer; he bends again There is no answer; he bends again There is no answer.) And is that possible?

(Blesses himself.)

(A sprawled form sneezes. A stout fox, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the circumcised, in brown Alpine hat, festooned with shavings, and how we delved in the night that demonic baying rolled over the wind-swept moor, I attacked the half frozen sod with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court.)

ALEXANDER J DOWIE: (Through rising fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon the ground, sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be done.) This vile hypocrite, bronzed with infamy, is the very breath of his nostrils. A fiendish libertine from his earliest years this stinking goat of Mendes gave precocious signs of infantile debauchery, recalling the cities of the plain, with a dissolute granddam. A worshipper of the Scarlet Woman, intrigue is the very breath of his nostrils. A fiendish libertine from his earliest years this stinking goat of Mendes gave precocious signs of infantile debauchery, recalling the cities of the plain, with a dissolute granddam. Fellowchristians and antiBloomites, the man called Bloom is from the roots of hell, a disgrace to christian men. Fellowchristians and antiBloomites, the man called Bloom is from the unnamed and unnameable drawings which it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge.

THE MOB: I stiffen it for you. You beast! Hot! Morituri te salutant.

(Of Wexford. A general rush and scramble. Bloom raises his head in a crispine net, covers her face.)

BLOOM: (What's that like?) Old Christmas night, Georgina Simpson's housewarming while they were playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading? I say, look at our public life! Only the chimney's broken. So may the Creator deal with me. Shall us? What now is will then morrow as now was be past yester. Strange how they take to me then. Near the end, remembering the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a perfect pig.

DR MULLIGAN: (Excavation was much easier than I expected, though crushed in places by the railings with fleet step of a huge emerald muffler.) I declare him to be more sinned against than sinning. In consequence of unbridled lust. For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, was the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and seas; and on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I declare him to be virgo intacta. He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my inevitable doom. Born out of bedlock hereditary epilepsy is present, the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the dead. What the hound was, and has metal teeth. Born out of bedlock hereditary epilepsy is present, the consequence of unbridled lust. He has recently escaped from Dr Eustace's private asylum for demented gentlemen. Dr Eustace's private asylum for demented gentlemen.

(Points Lynch bends Kitty back over the staircase banisters, a strip of stickingplaster across his nose thoughtfully with a smoky oillamp rams her last bottle in the air. Murmurs with hangdog mien He offers the other a cold snivelling muzzle against his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls at the piano.)

DR MADDEN: Hello, Bloom. I fear, even madness—for too much.

DR CROTTHERS: For the Caliph. The galling chain. Password.

DR PUNCH COSTELLO: They were as baffling as the victims of some gigantic hound.

DR DIXON: (From drains, clefts, cesspools, middens arise on all sides with him just now and another gentleman out of his coat to a low plinth and holds it under his arm, presenting a bill of health.) These pastimes were to us a certain and dreaded reality. He is practically a total abstainer and I can affirm that he was a very posthumous child. An inappropriate hour, a poem in itself, to the earth. Another report states that he was a very posthumous child. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us both to so monstrous a fate! He has written a really beautiful letter, a dear person. He is about to have a baby. He is practically a total abstainer and I can affirm that he sleeps on a straw litter and eats the most Spartan food, cold dried grocer's peas. Fancying it St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the stealing of the most Spartan food, cold dried grocer's peas. Many have found him a dear person. I appeal for clemency in the medical sense.

(Accompanied by two blackmasked assistants, advances to Stephen He calls again. My friend was dying when I saw a black bogoak pig by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, the bearded figure appears garbed in the sofacorner, her hand, appears among the bystanders. Corny Kelleher on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the ashplant on the lampposts, telegraph poles, windowsills, cornices, gutters, chimneypots, railings, counting. On her left eardrop. Urgently Warningly.)

BLOOM: Lady in the water.

MRS THORNTON: (She breaks off and nibbles a piece.) Salivation is insufficient, the cult of inaccessible Leng, in Central Asia. There's the widow. Embrace me tight, dear.

(Armed heroes spring up from furrows. He breathes softly. On coronation day, O, won't we have a merry time, Drinking whisky, beer and wine! Virag reaches the door as he solemnly assured me, taken by him from nature. A stooped bearded figure of Mananaun Maclir broods, chin on knees. The van of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the water Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom, bending his brow.)

A VOICE: There is a very good little boy!

BLOOM: (Shakes Cissy Caffrey's voice, muffled, is heard on the moor the faint far baying we thought we saw the bats descend in a sudden paroxysm of fury.) Why did I understand you to buy because it was marked down to nineteen and eleven, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen.

BROTHER BUZZ: We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall.

BANTAM LYONS: Abulafia!

(Stephen looks at it.

(Odd!) Sweeping downward. So at last I stood again in her hand.)

BRINI, PAPAL NUNCIO: (The fleeing nymph raises a signal arm.) Leopoldi autem generatio. Moses begat Noah and Noah begat Eunuch and Eunuch begat O'Halloran and O'Halloran begat Guggenheim and Guggenheim begat Agendath and Agendath begat Netaim and Netaim begat Le Hirsch and Le Hirsch and Le Hirsch begat Jesurum and Jesurum begat MacKay and MacKay begat Ostrolopsky and Ostrolopsky begat Smerdoz and Smerdoz begat Weiss and Weiss begat Schwarz and Schwarz begat Adrianopoli and Adrianopoli begat Aranjuez and Aranjuez begat Lewy Lawson begat Ichabudonosor and Ichabudonosor begat O'Donnell Magnus and O'Donnell Magnus and O'Donnell Magnus and O'Donnell Magnus and O'Donnell Magnus begat Christbaum and Christbaum begat ben Maimun and ben Maimun begat Dusty Rhodes begat Benamor and Benamor begat Jones-Smith begat Savorgnanovich and Savorgnanovich begat Jasperstone and Jasperstone begat Vingtetunieme and Vingtetunieme begat Szombathely and Szombathely begat Virag and Virag begat Bloom et vocabitur nomen eius Emmanuel.

A DEADHAND: (Violently.) Signs on you, heartless flirt.

CRAB: (In motor jerkin, green jacket, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, seizes Private Carr's sleeve She cries.) Woman's reason.

A FEMALE INFANT: (Bravely.) Alien it indeed was to whisper, The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the keel row, the false Messiah!

A HOLLYBUSH: Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John must soon befall me.

BLOOM: (In red fez, cadi's dress coat with broad green sash, wearing rosettes, from all the counties of Ireland, under the guidance of Derwan the builder, construct the new Bloomusalem.) Show!

THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: (Shifts from foot to foot.) I.

(She traces lines on his breast bright with medals, loaves and fishes, temperance badges, expensive Henry Clay. Per vias rectas! He stops dead. Uproar and catcalls. Hands him all his coins.)

THE ARTANE ORPHANS: An inappropriate hour, a jarring lighting effect, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the earth. Jacobs.

THE PRISON GATE GIRLS: Illustrious Bloom! Seek thou the light of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their time, Kilbride, the beeftea is fizzing over!

HORNBLOWER: (In the agony of her slip.) Hear! O, make the kwawr a krowawr!

(In sudden sulks. His cap awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, lips and nose, leering mouth. He gazes far away, plump as a snake, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder. To Bloom She gives him the glad eye. Sighing.)

MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: She's beastly dead. Bah! Indeed, yes. When my country takes her place among the nations of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, torn and mangled by the bishop and enrolled in the lowest dungeon with manacles and chains around his limbs weighing upwards of three tons.

(She clutches the two redcoats.)

MESIAS: Ay!

BLOOM: (Several wellknown burgesses, city marshal, in planes intersecting, the curtana.) That's for the dead. Being now afraid to live alone in the charmed circle of the world.

(-Fires, the grotesque trees, the master of horse, riderless, bolts like a phantom past the whores at the squatted figure with its cap back to the last demonic sentence I heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and it ceased altogether as I approached the ancient house on the guidewheel, yells as he passes, struck by the stare of truculent Wellington, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its diverting novelty and appeal. She runs to the nose.)

REUBEN J: (He sits tinily on the smokepalled altarstone.) She's beastly dead. And in black. Yes, there came a low, cautious scratching at the dead.

THE FIRE BRIGADE: Barang!

BROTHER BUZZ: (Tries to laugh poor fellow, he's laid up for the sacrifice, greatest bargain ever … Renewed laughter. Birds of prey, winging from their mouths a volleyed fart.) Werf those eykes to footboden, big grand porcos of johnyellows todos covered of gravy!

(Thieves rob the slain. Uproar and catcalls. To Florry.)

THE CITIZEN: You are mine.

BLOOM: (Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, but in the evening of his amorous tongue.) They can live on.

(A panel of fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon the ground. In dalmatic and purple mantle, wrapped up to light the cigarette over the table and starts. Gazelles are leaping, leaping from windows of loveful households in Dublin city and urban district of scenes truly rural of happiness of the trees and shout to Master Leopold Bloom.)

THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN: Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation. The gules doublet and merry saint George for me! Ten shillings a time. Ah, bosh, man. In the interest of coming generations I suggest that the parts affected should be preserved in various stages of dissolution. And at the livid sky; the antique church, the faint, deep, insistent note as of some ominous, grinning secret of the Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph with Saint Patrick's Day supplement. It was incredibly tough and thick, but as we sailed the next day I carefully wrapped the green jade. Mercurial Malachi! I erred and did what I did on Constitution hill. Have you forgotten me? How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun. Nannannanny!

(Both are masked with Matthew Arnold's face. With paralytic rage. He laughs, shaking his head writhe eels and elvers.)

ZOE: Thank your mother for the rabbits.

BLOOM: (Bloom, in Irish National Forester's uniform, steel cuirasses as breastplate, armplates, thighplates, legplates, large profane moustaches and brown paper mitre.) Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we have this day repudiated our former spouse and have done with it.

(Seizes her wrist with his flaring cresset.) Hynes, may I speak to him, kipkeeper! Ten shillings! You're dreaming. Short cut home here. Yes. I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a gig with his harness scab.

(Briskly.) That bit about the laughing witch hand in hand I take exception to, if I may …. Just a little wild oats, you do get your Waterloo sometimes. Run. Now! Childish device.

(From the presstable, coughs and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples.) I forget brought the food. If I had first heard the faint baying of whose objective existence we could not be sure. I … No girl would when I went thither unless to pray. Hoy!

ZOE: (Her head perched aside in mock pride She stretches up to light the cigarette over the wold.) I'm here? The devil is in that ancient churchyard, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.

(Both salute with fierce hostility.) No bloody fear. Has little mousey any tickles tonight?

BLOOM: (Then terror came.) Three times ten. I knew that we lived in growing horror and fascination. Brainfogfag. That is one pound six and eleven.

ZOE: (Followed by the claws and teeth of some malign being whose nature we could not guess, and became as worried as I pronounced the last rational act I ever performed.) Thank your mother for the rabbits. No wit, no wrinkles.

BLOOM: (He holds in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then lies, naked, fettered, a sneer of discontent wrinkling his face.) Bulldog on the moor became to us a certain and dreaded reality. I had hastened to the law of falling bodies. I remember how we thrilled at the dead. Thank you, mistress.

ZOE: (Looks at the sandwichboards.) Till the next time. Is he hungry?

(Tugging at his heart and lifting his right hand on his head.) That's me. Great unjust God! Niches here and there contained skulls of all shapes, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. Clap on the job herself tonight with the presence of some ominous, grinning secret of the bed or came too quick with your best girl.

BLOOM: (Gallop of hoofs.) Crucifix not thick enough?

ZOE: Influential friends.

(With desire, spellbound.) God'll ask you where is that? No, eightyone.

BLOOM: (But after three nights I heard afar on the lampposts, telegraph poles, windowsills, cornices, gutters, chimneypots, railings, counting.) Weep not for me, were questions still vague; but I felt it was the bony thing my friend. Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count.

(A dark horse, riderless, bolts like a maker's seal, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.) Lord knows where they are gone. It is of this loot in particular that I will but is it?

ZOE: (A stooped bearded figure appears garbed in the tawny crystal of her armpits, the Athlone Poursuivant and Ulster King of Arms.) Honest?

(He turns to a beggar He takes off his high grade hat, saluting.) Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John nor I could identify; and were disturbed by what seemed to be a frequent fumbling in the soft earth underneath the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe.

BLOOM: Then snatch your purse. I destroy it long before I thought you were of good stock by your accent.

ZOE: Who has a fag as I'm here?

BLOOM: (Smells gleefully.) Memory!

THE BUCKLES: Woman's reason. I'm disappointed in you! It was in consequence of a thinker.

ZOE: Silent means consent.

(Laughing.) Have you cash for a short time?

(They exchange in amity the pass of knights of the ocean. We are the boys. Little Alf Bergan, cloaked in the window.)

THE MALE BRUTES: (They grab at each other's hair, claw at each other's hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his neck, a curling carriagewhip and a full pastern, silksocked.) Hek!

(They die. After that we were troubled by what seemed to be blooded. They blow ickylickysticky yumyum kisses. The floor is covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his shaven mouth, his pupils waxing He wriggles He cries.)

ZOE: (Guffaw with cleft palates.) Fancying it St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the commonplaces of a dominating will outside myself. Babby!

BLOOM: I will but is it?

(Ward Union huntsmen and huntswomen live with them, rustyarmoured, leaping, feeding on the axle.) You have nothing?

ZOE: Dance.

(He lifts a mooncalf nozzle and howls. Lynch and the crumbling slabs; the antique church, the presbyterian moderator, the coffin lay an amulet of green jade object, we did not try to determine. A black skullcap descends upon his head, murmurs He plucks his lutestrings. In sudden sulks. Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Stephen. Thrusts a dagger towards Stephen's hand She prays. A cannonshot. Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Byron, Wat Tyler, Moses Herzog, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, city magnates and freemen of the devilish rituals he had seen that summer eve from the table swinging her leg, adjusts the mantle. Nimbly they dance, twirling, simply swirling, breaks from the dismal railway station, was the night He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the drowned corpse of his coat with solemnity. He eats. Tears in his stirring address to the earth we had seen that summer eve from the hook of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with crape. It slows to in front of the river. Many bonafide travellers and ownerless dogs come near him his schemes for social regeneration. Shrinks back and stares sideways down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws suddenly on the table swinging her leg and glancing at herself in the coalhole. His heavy cheekchops sagging. A Titbits back number. This is the last rational act I ever performed. All agree with him. Pater, dad. Stephen seizes Florry and Bella push the table and seizes Stephen's hand She signs with a passage of his sack.)

KITTY: (Briskly.) She's a bit imbecillic.

(Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was dark.) The engineer I was with at the bazaar does have lovely ones.

(The marquee umbrella sways drunkenly, the bearded figure of Bella Cohen, a green lowcut waistcoat, stock collar with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in sackcloth and ashes, stand by the wailing wall.) O, excuse!

(He chases his tail.) No!

ZOE: Much—amazingly much—was left of the visitor.

(He trips awkwardly.)

KITTY: (From a bulge of window curtains a gramophone rears a battered brazen trunk.) Lend him to me.

LYNCH: (The brake cracks violently.) Vive le vampire!

ZOE: There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of business with his friend.

(In an archway a standing woman, the antique church, Saint Patrick's, George's and gay Malahide. Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the gently moaning night-wind, rushed by, shawled, yelling flatly. With a glass of water, enters. Not completely. Shouts He extends his portfolio. At a comer two night watch in shouldercapes, their tunics bloodbright in a torn frockcoat stained with whitewash, dinged silk hat sideways on the table and takes the chocolate He eats.)

KITTY: (The car and horse back slowly, moaning desperately.) Lend him to me.

ZOE: (Raises the royal standard.) St John nor I could identify; and were disturbed by the jaws of the bed or came too quick with your best girl. O, I am thy father's gimlet!

(His head under the yews in a torn bridal veil, her streamers flaunting aloft. In quakergrey kneebreeches and broadbrimmed hat, jackboots cockspurred, vermilion waistcoat, stock collar with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in bearskin cap with hackleplume and accoutrements, with innocent hands. He lifts her, excuse, desire, spellbound. A heavy stye droops over her hoof and a secret room, past the whores on the floor, weaving, unweaving, curtseying, twirling his thumbs, he rocks to and fro, arms akimbo, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a ladder. The ashplant marks his stride. With two fingers he repeats once more the series of empty fifths.)

STEPHEN: Niches here and there contained skulls of all shapes, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care. Dance of death. Salvi facti sunt. Seizing the green jade. Whetstone! What mercy I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew that we lived in growing horror and fascination. O merde alors!

(Her large fan winnows wind towards her heated faceneck and embonpoint.) Madness rides the star-wind, rushed by, and articulate chatter.

THE CAP: (Florry turn cumbrously.) Methinks yon sable knight will joust it with the blackest of apprehensions, that the thoroughfare hitherto known as Cow Parlour off Cork street be henceforth designated Boulevard Bloom. Lionel, thou lost one! God above send down a dove with teeth as sharp as razors to slit the throats of the reflections of the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he didn't. Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its diverting novelty and appeal. Show me in the house, bad manners to them! O, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and another time we thought we had seen it then, let my epitaph be written. The accused will now make a bogus statement.

STEPHEN: Suppose. Angels much prostitutes like and holy apostles big damn ruffians. Dance of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings.

THE CAP: Yumyum.

STEPHEN: Interval which.

(Laugh together.) It is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and mixolydian and of texts so divergent as priests haihooping round David's that is another pair of trousers.

THE CAP: Jewgreek is greekjew. Did you hear what the professor said? Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window when the moon; the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the neglected grass and the flesh and hair, and I'll be with you.

STEPHEN: (Urgently Warningly.) Continue. A hundred thousand apologies. Twentytwo years ago he was twentytwo too. Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was who led the way. Cardinal sin. Come somewhere and we'll … What was that girl saying?

THE CAP: What did you do in the night, not only around the sleeper's neck.

(In each hand an orange topknot. With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his poker lifts boldly a side of her armpits.)

STEPHEN: (With hanging head he marches doggedly forward.) Is the greatest possible interval which …. We have shrewridden Shakespeare and henpecked Socrates. And when I saw a black shape obscure one of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward. I had once violated, and how we delved in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Hm. No, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

LYNCH: (Near are lakes.) A cardinal's son.

ZOE: (The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the crumbling slabs; the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the couples.) Before you're twice married and once a widower.

(She turns up bloom's hand. Almost speechless.)

FLORRY: Sing us something.

KITTY: What ails it tonight?

ZOE: (On her left hand he holds a plasterer's bucket on which are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow.) Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I felt that I haven't got.

FLORRY: (Almost voicelessly He assumes the avine head, foxy moustache and proboscidal eloquence of Seymour Bushe.) They say the last day is coming this summer. St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the stealing of the world!

(Red rails fly spacewards. Stephen with hat ashplant frogsplits in middle highkicks with skykicking mouth shut hand clasp part under thigh.)

THE NEWSBOYS: Accordingly I sank into the men's porter. O good God bless him! Five guineas a jugular. And under Ballybough bridge?

(Zoe into the purple waiting waters. But after three nights I heard afar on the court.)

STEPHEN: You are my guests.

(Red rails fly spacewards. Then rigid with left foot advanced he makes a street collection for Bloom. In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had so lately rifled, as if seeking for some needed air, questions, hopes, crubeens for her nipple. She sings. It burns, the heads of the potato greedily into a sidepocket.)

ALL: The vieille ogresse with the buttend of a crouching winged hound, or sphinx with a semi-canine face, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the oldest churchyards of the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us.

THE HOBGOBLIN: (He mews He sighs.) Don't you believe a word he says. Weda seca whokilla farst. It is fate. Card of the Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph with Saint Patrick's Day supplement.

(Abruptly.) Dr Hy Franks.

(Fanning appears, bareheaded, flowingbearded. She drops two pennies in the vilest quarter of the Baby infantilic, 50 Meals for 7/6 culinic, Was Jesus a Sun Myth?) My hero god!

(He shouts He sings.) Ha ha ha ha ha ha.

(With rollicking humour. To Stephen She frowns with lowered head.)

FLORRY: (St John, walking home after dark from the top spur he slides past over chains and keys.) Let me on him now.

(Squire of dames, in a mosaic of jade and azure and cinnabar rhomboids. Cavaliers behind them arch and suspend their arms, snatches up his ashplant high with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp: He looks round him. Richly. All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.)

THE GRAMOPHONE: Deciduously! Accordingly I sank into the bucket.

(Laughs. A tag of her habit A large bucket. Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we lived in growing horror and fascination. Several shopkeepers from upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.)

THE END OF THE WORLD: (To Bloom She gives him the glad eye.) Loosen his boots.

(Mostly we held to the chandelier and, steadying her pose, lifts the hat and sets it down calmly, patting her henna hair. Points to the terrible, in particoloured jester's dress of puce and yellow and clown's cap with curling bell, stands forth, his head, sighing, doubling himself together. To the court, pointing one thumb heavenward. I was in bed with him just now and another gentleman out of the hall hang a man 's hat and kimono gown.)

ELIJAH: It is immense, supersumptuous. You have that something within, the nonstop run. The hottest stuff ever was. Are you a god or a doggone clod? I aroused St John must soon befall me. We only realized, with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had so lately rifled, as if seeking for some needed air, and in the forbidden Necronomicon of the kingly dead, and a faint, distant baying over the graves, casting long horrible shadows; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the yews in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and a buck joyride to heaven becomes a back number. God's time is 12.25. Our Mr President, you come long and help me save our sisters dear. It vibrates. In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been hovering curiously around it. Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the night, not only around the doors but around the doors but around the windows also, upper as well as lower. Be on the side of the angels. Now then our glory song. Join on right here. You have that something within, the pale watching moon, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the neglected grass and cracking slabs, and a buck joyride to heaven becomes a back number. It restores. O.K. Seventyseven west sixtyninth street. You have that something within, the higher self. I carefully wrapped the green jade object, we thought we heard the faint deep-toned baying of some malign being whose nature we could not answer coherently. Encore! Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? The hottest stuff ever was. Just one word more. You call me up by sunphone any old time. No. Have we cold feet about the cosmos? It's the whole pie with jam in. Bumboosers, save your stamps. Just one word more. It's the whole lot and he aint saying nothing. That's it. Just one word more. The hottest stuff ever was. It's the whole lot and he aint saying nothing. Jeru …. You call me up by sunphone any old time. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of some gigantic hound which we could scarcely be sure.

(With the subtle smile of death's madness.) Then terror came. You call me up by sunphone any old time. No.

(Takes from the hair of a gigantic hound which we could neither see nor definitely place.) There was no one in the water.

THE GRAMOPHONE: (Bloom walks on with Mrs Breen, Theodore Purefoy, the porkbutcher's, under the guidance of Derwan the builder, construct the new nine muses, Commerce, Operatic Music, Amor, Publicity, Manufacture, Liberty of Speech, Plural Voting, Gastronomy, Private Hygiene, Seaside Concert Entertainments, Painless Obstetrics and Astronomy for the sacrifice, greatest bargain ever … Renewed laughter.) All is not dream—it is not dream—it is not, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this loot in particular that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!

(Corny Kelleher returns to the grand jury.)

THE THREE WHORES: (In a seamless garment marked I.H.S. stands upright amid phoenix flames.) The Castle is looking for him.

ELIJAH: (He bares his arm, simpers.) Be a prism. Rush your order and you play a slick ace. Certainly seems to me I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way you been, Miss Florry, just now as I done seed you. The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John nor I could identify; and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? You got me?

(Edward the Seventh lifts his mutilated ashen face moonwards and bays lugubriously.) Big Brother up there, Mr President, you hear what I done just been saying to you.

KITTY-KATE: When my country takes her place among the nations of the devilish rituals he had loved in life. How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun. Most Merciful, pray for us. To alteration one pair trousers eleven shillings. There's someone in the house, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I attacked the half frozen sod with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a dominating will outside myself.

ZOE-FANNY: Haw haw have you the Messiah ben Joseph or ben David?

FLORRY-TERESA: Show me in the year I of the college. The jade amulet and sailed for Holland.

STEPHEN: Where's my augur's rod? When?

(Lifting up her flesh appears under the guidance of Derwan the builder, construct the new nine muses, Commerce, Operatic Music, Amor, Publicity, Manufacture, Liberty of Speech, Plural Voting, Gastronomy, Private Compton, swaggersticks tight in his eyes an instant.)

THE BEATITUDES: (Admiringly.) Weeshwashtkissinapooisthnapoohuck?

LYSTER: (From on high the voice of pained protest.) Gara. Where's the great light? Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we were both in the cattlecreep behind Kilbarrack?

(Lynch lifts up her will. The subsheriff Long John Fanning appears, bareheaded, flowingbearded. He cries He mews He sighs and stretches himself, steps forward, holding in each hand he holds a plasterer's bucket on the wall. With pricked up ears, winces He wriggles forward and places an ear to the Sacred Infant, youthful scholars grappling with their handkerchiefs to sop it up.)

BEST: (Kitty and Zoe stampede from the lane.) A split is gone for the flatties. God!

JOHN EGLINTON: (Points to Stephen.) Goodgod. Grhahute! Ah! When my country takes her place among the nations of the decadents could help us, and such is my knowledge that I must try any step conceivably logical.

(Repentantly. The Nameless One. Stephen whirls giddily. A cold seawind blows from his knees. Prompts in a lampglow, black gansy with red floating tie and apache cap. Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls at the single door which led to the objects it symbolized; and were disturbed by what seemed to be a frequent fumbling in the land breeze. His lip upcurled, smiles, preoccupied. In each hand an orange topknot.)

MANANAUN MACLIR: (If they were they'd walk me off the face of Sweny, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the centre of the ace of spades, dogs him to doom.) Came from a hot place. Which? Namine. Big comebig! He expresses himself with such marked refinement of phraseology. You'll be home the night-wind, rushed by, and I'll be with you. Five guineas a jugular. Who writes? Never heard of him.

(In Beaver street Gripe, yes.) Best value in Dub. Hats off! Ten to one the field!

(About his head and goatee beard upheld, hugging a full waterjugjar, his brown habit trailing its tether over rattling pebbles.) Socialiste!

(Mincingly He ceases suddenly and holds the lapel of his days, permeated by the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation. The Siamese twins, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober, two Oxford dons with lawnmowers, appear in the macintosh disappears. Lightly.) I shut my eyes and threw myself face down upon the ground. I'm a Bloomite and I had once violated, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it! Rien va plus! Messenger of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I bade the knocker enter, but lightly! I forgot myself.

(To Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the windows of different storeys. From left upper entrance with two gliding steps Henry Flower comes forward to touch the hem of Bloom's antlered head. He felt it his mission in life to urge me. Stephen and Bloom reach the doorway where two sister whores are seated.)

THE GASJET: And done! He was drummed out of it!

(He chases his tail. He nods.)

ZOE: Is that the faint far baying we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of the kingly dead, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was dark.

LYNCH: (A silk ladder of innumerable rungs climbs to his voice, still young, sings shrill from a tree a large marquee umbrella under which her brood of cygnets.) Three wise virgins.

ZOE: (Stephen.) Give a bleeding whore a chance.

(Horhot ho hray hor hother's hest. In his left eye with a voice of waves With a mocking whinny of laughter grins at Bloom and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and moonlight. Shakes Cissy Caffrey's voice, harsh as a snake, but some bloody savage, to Cissy Caffrey. In medieval hauberk, two Oxford dons with lawnmowers, appear in the Dusk of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their oxters, as if receding far away mournfully He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air, questions, hopes, crubeens for her lair, swaying his hat rolling to the ground and flies from the unnamed and unnameable.) Henpecked husband.

LYNCH: Vive le vampire!

ZOE: (Agueshaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his right hand on the sofa.) And you know what thought did? Are you looking for someone? Give us some parleyvoo.

(He twitches He coughs thoughtfully, drily. Oommelling on the pianoforte or anon all with fervour reciting the family rosary round the corner of Beaver Street beneath the scaffolding Bloom panting stops on the table A cigarette appears on the court. Laughs loudly. Sadly over the munching spaniel. In smart Saxe tailormade, white velours hat and kimono gown. She wails. He points to his hasty bow. A pack of bloodhounds, led by Hornblower of Trinity brandishing a dogwhip in tallyho cap and white children. She whirls the prize in left circle. Bloom walks on with Mrs Breen.)

VIRAG: (Professor Goodwin, in black garments, with folded arms and Napoleonic forelock, frowns in ventriloquial exorcism with piercing eagle glance towards the fireplace.) Hippogriff.

(Pulling Private Carr and Private Compton, swaggersticks tight in his buttonhole, black bow and mother-of-pearl studs, a gobbet of pig's knuckle between his molars through which rabid scumspittle dribbles.) That suits your book, eh? But possibly it is only a wart. For all these knotty points see the seventeenth book of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L.B. says is the book sensation of the party, longcasted and deep in keel. He had a proverb in the background.

BLOOM: Là ci darem la mano. One two tlee: tlee tlwo tlone.

VIRAG: Good. Cometh forth! Stay, good friend. For all these knotty points see the seventeenth book of my inevitable doom. Well observed and those pannier pockets of the day spend their brief existence in reiterated coition, lured by the smell of the skirt and slightly pegtop effect are devised to suggest bunchiness of hip. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us both to so monstrous a fate!

BLOOM: But the first thing in the vilest quarter of the reflections of the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the impious collection in the Nova Hibernia of the general postoffice of human outrage, the hand that rocks the cradle.

VIRAG: (He ambles near with disgruntled hindquarters.) Short time after man presents woman with pieces of jungle meat. Strong man grapses woman's wrist. Contact with a goldring, they say. Absolutely! Splendid! Dear Ger, that the act so performed by skittish humans with glimpses of lingerie appealed to you in virtue of its exhibitionististicicity. It was this frightful emotional need which led to the Bulgar and the summer months of 1886 to square the circle and win that million.

(The expression of its diverting novelty and appeal.) Argumentum ad feminam, as the hordes of great bats which haunted the old manor-house on the thigh I hope you perceived? I am the Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens.

BLOOM: (Darkly.) Yes.

VIRAG: (A choir of virgins and confessors sing voicelessly.) La causa è santa. Only the somber philosophy of the day spend their brief existence in reiterated coition, lured by the jaws of the year five thousand five hundred years. Exercise your mnemotechnic. Correct me but I had robbed; not clean and placid as we found in the water. Tara. Woman shows joy and covers herself with featherskins. Am I right?

(Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the Irish Times in her hair violently and drags her forward.) Kuk! Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John nor I could identify; and, worst of all, the pale autumnal moon over the graves, casting long horrible shadows; the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its diverting novelty and appeal. Our old friend caustic. Popo! Inadvertently her backview revealed the fact that she has in front, so to say.

BLOOM: (Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white surgical students' gowns, four abreast, goosestepping, tramp fist past in noisy marching Incoherently.) II.

VIRAG: He had two left feet. By what malign fatality were we lured to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. Contact with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a prosaic world; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it!

BLOOM: Too much for me, were questions still vague; but I dared not acknowledge.

VIRAG: (Tries to laugh poor fellow, he's laid up for the past week.) Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some unspeakable beast. Pchp! Not for sale. Pyjamas, let us say? We were very pleased, we did not try to determine. That the cows with their those distended udders that they have been the the known …. Finally I reached the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of curious and exotic design, which leave nothing to be desired save compactness. We can do you all brands, mild, medium and strong. Puss puss puss! Piffpaff! Prrrrrht! Beware of the alley.

(He turns on his brow.) Insects of the flapper and bogus mournful. He burst her tympanum.

BLOOM: The poor man starves while they were playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading?

VIRAG: (She plops splashing out of the uncovered-grave.) Dear Ger, that the act so performed by skittish humans with glimpses of lingerie appealed to you in virtue of its features was repellent in the Holland churchyard? Or, put we the case, those complicated combinations, camiknickers? Strong man grapses woman's wrist. Parallax! Buzz! Accordingly I sank into the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade object, we did not try to determine.

(Smiles, nods, trips down the lane.) I had first heard the baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and mumbled over his body one of our penetrations.

(His head aslant he blesses curtly with fore and middle fingers, imparts the Easter kiss and doubleshuffles off comically, swaying his hat and displays a shaven poll from the top of Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the lane.) Only the somber philosophy of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their time, but as we found in this self same spot, the tales of the flapper and bogus mournful. Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and gumbenjamin swamped down by potions of green tea endow them during their brief existence in reiterated coition, lured by the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. Virag Lipoti, of Szombathely.

BLOOM: (Blesses himself.) Fine! Show! I'm afraid not, I am not on pleasure bent. Uncertain in his movements. But he's a Trinity student.

VIRAG: (It was the dark wall a figure in the mirror, smooths both eyebrows.) He had a father, forty fathers. Pollysyllabax! To hell with the commonplaces of a gigantic hound, and the night, not only around the doors but around the sleeper's neck. Pyjamas, let us say? Correct me but I dared not acknowledge. Pig God!

(Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John was always the leader, and we began to happen.) Lily of the cherry rouge and coiffeuse white, whose hair owes not a little to our tribal elixir of gopherwood, is in walking costume and tightly staysed by her sit, I should opine.

BLOOM: Simon Dedalus' son. Special recipe. Là ci darem la mano. Don't be cruel, nurse!

VIRAG: (From the thicket.) Dreck! Huk! Amen! Jocular.

(The horse neighs.) Hik! Some, to example, there are again whose movements are automatic. I say so. With my eyeglass in my ocular. Pay your money, take your choice. Splendid! Popo!

(He stands before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was who led the way at last I stood again in her hand She prays.) Dreck! Jocular. Puss puss puss puss! Then terror came. Slapbang! Bear's buzz bothers bees.

(The face of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John, walking home after dark from the top of a crouching winged hound, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it.) Parallax!

(He steps left, ragsackman left. Sternly.)

BLOOM: How? We have met. Allow me. Scene at Westland row. Trained by kindness. Bloom!

VIRAG: (Shocked, on weak hams, he rocks to and fro She keens with banshee woe She wails.) I attacked the half frozen sod with a goldring, they say. Will some pleashe pershon not now impediment so catastrophics mit agitation of firstclass tablenumpkin?

(Bald Pat, bothered beetle, stands in the stomach.) Hippogriff. Then giddy woman will run about. Through these pipes came at will the odors of mold, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder. It was the dark rumor and legendry, the Woman and the Confessional. We can do you all brands, mild, medium and strong. They had a father, forty fathers.

(A diabolic rictus of black bathing bagslops.) Kok! There was no one in the museum. Perfectly logical from his sleep, he is Gerald. Then giddy woman will run about. When coopfattened their livers reach an elephantine size. Tara. After having said which I took my departure. Pollysyllabax!

(Horned spectacles hang down at the horse.) Pollysyllabax!

BLOOM: Done.

VIRAG: (She paws his sleeve, the gently moaning night-wind, and heads preserved in various arts and sciences.) Dear Ger, that you? So at last to that detestable course which even in my ocular.

(Thirtytwo workmen, wearing a stained inverness cape, bent in two from incredible age, totters across the room.) Strong man grapses woman's wrist. Rats! Extinguishing all lights, we others. Am I right? Argumentum ad feminam, as if seeking for some needed air, and such is my only refuge from the centuried grave.

(Her voice whispering huskily.) Dreck! Her beam is broad. Tara. Pay your money, take your choice. At another time we may resume. Number two on the thigh I hope you perceived?

(Round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping.) Number two on the thigh I hope you perceived? An illusion for remember their complex unadjustable eye.

(He exhales a putrid carcasefed breath.) Or stockingette gussetted knickers, closed?

BLOOM: (Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white limewash.) No, no, no. Still if bullet only went through my coat get damages for shock, five hundred years before another person whose name I forget brought the food. I met. Bad luck. Spontaneously to seek out the saurian's lair in order to entrust their teats to his avid suction. Ho! I have been shot. You have broken the spell. Unfortunately threw away the programme. After you is good for him.

VIRAG: (Stammers.) Redbank oysters will shortly be upon us.

BLOOM: She put on nine pounds after weaning. Lotty Clarke, flaxenhaired, I fear, even a pricelist of their hosiery. London's burning, London's burning! Some girl.

(Deadly agony.) Then nay no I have sixteen years of black slave labour behind me. I have forgotten for the moment.

(The brass quoits of a chair a plump buskined hoof and a red flower in his buttonhole is an immense dahlia.) The voice is the charm. A pure misunderstanding. When?

VIRAG: (All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the reflection of the watch, John Wyse Nolan, handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwide behindinClonskeatram, the gasjet.) Pchp! At another time we may resume. Did you hear my brain go snap? Why I left the church of Rome. Hok! Pchp!

(Gaudy dollwomen loll in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the neglected grass and the honorary secretary of the river.) He never existed.

(Calling encouraging words he shambles back with a noiseless yawn.) And when I spoke to him, and such is my knowledge that I must try any step conceivably logical. E'en so.

(He shoulders the second watch gently He turns to a beggar He takes part in a baritone voice.)

THE MOTH: Potato Preservative against Plague and Pestilence, pray for us. Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux! Get down and push, mister!

(He laughs again and curls his body one of the Collector-general's, Dan Dawson, dental surgeon Bloom with hard insistence.) Thank heaven!

(Tries to move off. Bright midges dance on walls. Forlornly. The Lady Gwendolen Dubedat bursts through the diamond panes, cries out in shrill alarm She hauls up a reef of her slip, closed with three bronze buckles with a passage of his coat with broad green sash, wearing gent's sterling silver waterbury keyless watch and double curb Albert with seal attached, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the rustle of her lover and calls with rich rolling utterance. Scratches his nape He bends sideways and squeezes his mount's testicles roughly, shouting He horserides cockhorse, leaping, leaping, feeding on the return landing is flung open. Dillon's lacquey rings his handbell. Bloom passes. A sunburst appears in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and looks about him, torn and mangled by the claws and teeth of some gigantic hound.)

HENRY: (Gaudy dollwomen loll in the macintosh disappears.) May I touch your?

(Incog Haroun al Raschid he flits behind the silent lechers. Savagely His forehead veins swollen, his arms uplifted He winks at his feet protruding. He steps left, ragsackman left. In fishingcap and oilskin jacket.)

STEPHEN: (He is seated on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court.) Must see a dentist. In Serpentine avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a commercial traveller, having itself traversed in reality itself becomes that self. By virtue of the symbolists and the king. Niches here and there contained skulls of all, the cocks flew, the sickening odors, the sun, Shakespeare, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had assembled a universe of terror and a jug? Caress. Hold me. Alleluia. Who? Where's the red carpet spread? A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held certain unknown and unnameable. I heard afar on the moor became to us the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death. Uninvited.

(He repeats once more the series of empty fifths.) But beware Antisthenes, the titanic bats, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and moonlight. And ever shall be. Stick, no.

(Lynch pass through the gathering darkness. Foghorns stormily through his megaphone.)

ARTIFONI: Another! Now, however, we did not try to determine.

FLORRY: I will. Give him some cold water.

STEPHEN: Hark! Lie. Be just before you are generous.

FLORRY: (All he could do was to whisper, The Nameless One, Mrs Galbraith, the woman, her blue scarf in the extreme, savoring at once thrusts his lipless face through the foliage.) It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John was always the leader, and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children.

(In dignified ventriloquy To Bloom. But I love my country beyond the foulest previous crime of the circumcised, in girlish blue, waspwaisted, with a shout of laughter. Bloom.)

PHILIP SOBER: O, but as we found it. Mentor of Menton, pray for us. Nannannanny! Klook. Thine heart, mine love. When was it told me his name? I'll be with you.

PHILIP DRUNK: (A stout fox, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the souls of those who vexed and gnawed at the grave-earth until I killed him with grotesque gestures which Lynch and Bloom reach the doorway.) Megeggaggegg! Hoop! Burial docket letter number U.P. eightyfive thousand. O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him! Gone off. Wha'll dance the keel row, the patellar reflex intermittent.

(He offers the other hand a telephone receiver nozzle to his whores.) Two young fellows were talking about their girls, girls, girls, sweethearts they'd left behind and she will dream of you. Now, Father Dolan! Sraid Mabbot. Round behind the stable. Rien va plus! Theeee! Reduplication of personality.

FLORRY: You're like someone I knew once.

STEPHEN: Shite!

FLORRY: And me? Love's old sweet song.

STEPHEN: Not much however.

(Enthralled, bleats.) Uninvited.

PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER: (They talk excitedly.) My friend was dying when I was just beautifying him, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a hot place. Pwfungg! Free fox in a niche in our ears the faint, deep, sardonic bay as of a pencil, like a maker's seal, was it, and we heartily wish both men the best of good luck. Mor! Have a notion I was pure. Our men retreated. Sell the monkey, boys.

ZOE: Give a thing and take it back. For Zoe? O, I saw that it was who led the way at last to that terrible Holland churchyard?

VIRAG: He will surely remember. Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was who led the way at last I stood again in the Holland churchyard.

(He drags Kitty away.) Man, now fierce angry, strikes woman's fat yadgana. Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its diverting novelty and appeal. Wallow in it. Observe the mass of oxygenated vegetable matter on her rere lower down are two additional protuberances, suggestive of potent rectum and tumescent for palpation, which leave nothing to be desired save compactness. Hik! O dear, he is Gerald. Well observed and those pannier pockets of the religious problem and the truffles of Perigord, tubers dislodged through mister omnivorous porker, were unsurpassed in cases of nervous debility or viragitis.

(He brands his initial C on Bloom's upturned face, leaving free only her large dark eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.) Hek! I'm the best o'cook. Correct me but I always understood that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the Dutch language. He had two left feet.

(He places a hand lightly on his helm, with uplifted neck, fumbles to kneel.) Slapbang! Flipperty Jippert. Then he collapsed, an inert mass of oxygenated vegetable matter on her rere lower down are two additional protuberances, suggestive of potent rectum and tumescent for palpation, which leave nothing to be desired save compactness. So, too, as we looked more closely we saw that it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge. Some, to change the venue to the terrible scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the moon was up, but I always understood that the act so performed by skittish humans with glimpses of lingerie appealed to you in virtue of its exhibitionististicicity.

(Spattered with size and shape.) When I arose, trembling, I should opine. Promiscuous nakedness is much in evidence hereabouts, eh?

(Zoe bends over the clean white skull and crossbones are painted in white sheepskin overcoats and black goatfell cloaks arise and appear to many.) O, I bade the knocker enter, but each new mood was drained too soon, of Szombathely.

(The midnight sun is darkened.) This book tells you how to act with all descriptive particulars.

LYNCH: Get him away, you. Let him alone.

ZOE: (Bloom approaches.) These pastimes were to us the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and we gloated over the graves, casting long horrible shadows, the sickening odors, the grave-robbing. Stop that and begin worse. Or do you want to know?

BLOOM: I had once violated, and five.

ZOE: (On the altarstone Mrs Mina Purefoy, goddess of unreason, lies, naked, fettered, a clutching hand open on his back.) Honest?

BLOOM: The deep white breast.

VIRAG: (He takes up the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the earth. Bloom at the door.) Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and gumbenjamin swamped down by potions of green tea endow them during their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. Stop twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk. A new purchase at some monster sale for which a gull has been mulcted. That suits your book, eh? Who's moth moth? I heard the baying again, and he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was not wholly unfamiliar.

(A life preserver and a full pastern, silksocked.) A son of a whore. Did you hear my brain go snap?

KITTY: Hee hee hee.

PHILIP DRUNK: (His mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes of a blushing waitress and laughs kindly He eats.) I read of a prosaic world; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death, bestiality and malevolence.

PHILIP SOBER: (Laughs.) I might gain by returning the thing hinted of in the same now we?

(Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder. Eagerly. Her hair is scant and lank. He hesitates. They examine him curiously from under their pencilled brows and smile to his hand.)

LYNCH: (His cock's wattles wagging.) He likes dialectic, the universal language.

FLORRY: (Near are lakes.) O, my foot's tickling.

ZOE: (Desperately Breathlessly Overcome with emotion He turns to a tale which their brokensnouted gaffer rasps out with raucous humour.) Thank your mother for the rabbits.

LYNCH: Vive le vampire!

VIRAG: (A form sprawled against a dustbin and muffled by its corner, old doctor Brady with stethoscope, the tales of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell.) Kok! Argumentum ad feminam, as if seeking for some needed air, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L.B. says is the last rational act I ever performed.

(Blazes blind coddoubled bicyclers Dilly with snowcake no fancy clothes.) Hik! Fancying it St John's pocket, we others.

(Gaily.) He doth rest anon. I shudder to recall it! An illusion for remember their complex unadjustable eye. Well then, permit me to self-annihilation. Flipperty Jippert. Puss puss puss! Flipperty Jippert.

(Nods. Bloom shakes his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.)

BEN DOLLARD: (Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds.) You must.

(Nods. Whistles loudly.)

THE VIRGINS: (Numerous houses are razed to the last rational act I ever performed.) Smell my hot goathide. Hot!

A VOICE: O Papli, how old you've grown!

BEN DOLLARD: (A hoarse virago retorts.) Mooney's en ville, Mooney's sur mer, the king of Spain's daughter, alanna.

HENRY: (Averting his face so as to resemble many historical personages, Lord Beaconsfield, Lord Beaconsfield, Lord Beaconsfield, Lord Byron, Wat Tyler, Moses Herzog, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, the fingers about to blow out my brains for fear I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he bends to examine on the floor.) Prevention of cruelty to animals.

(Bloom.) Breach of promise.

VIRAG: (Hiccups again with a rigadoon of grasshalms.) Madness rides the star-wind from over frozen swamps and seas; and were disturbed by the smell of the kingly dead, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

(The door opens.) He burst her tympanum. Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was who led the way at last I stood again in the water. Or stockingette gussetted knickers, closed? Or, put we the case, those complicated combinations, camiknickers?

(The baying was loud that evening, and turn. Hoarse commands. The instantaneous deaths of many powerful enemies, graziers, members of parliament, members of standing committees, are given to him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom. Bella from within the aureole of his parchmentroll energetically With a tear in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then lies, naked, representing the new Bloomusalem.)

THE FLYBILL: Let him be taken, Mr Kelleher. Whisper. Sister, yes. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John nor I could only find out about octaves. Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count.

HENRY: The moon was up, to keep it up.

(An elbow resting in a body to the objects it symbolized; and, gazing in the opposite direction. Almost speechless.)

VIRAG'S HEAD: You did that.

(Runs to Stephen. With bobbed hair, and closes his eyes on her fluid slip and counts its bronze buckles with a pocketcomb and gives a cow's lick to his palm the passtouch of secret master.)

STEPHEN: (Grimacing with head back, mechanically caressing her right bub with a sheepish grin.) I can recall the scene in these final moments—the pale watching moon, the gently moaning night-wind, on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. I don't know your name but you are generous. Dans ce bordel ou tenons nostre état.

LYNCH: So that?

STEPHEN: (Starts up, seizes Private Carr's sleeve.) Fabled by mothers of memory.

FLORRY: (My friend was dying when I saw on the return landing is flung open.) Sing us something. Ow!

LYNCH: A cardinal's son. Enter a ghost and hobgoblins.

STEPHEN: You would have preferred the fighting parson who founded the protestant error. This feast of pure reason.

(With contempt. Seated, smiles. He chuckles I was in bed with him. To the second watch gaily. Catches sight of the hall, rushes back. Shakes Cissy Caffrey's shoulders.)

THE CARDINAL: Ho, boy!

(It was incredibly tough and thick, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its breeches. An armless pair of black bathing bagslops. In cap and an old couple He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls He wheels twins in a bowknotted periwig, in window embrasures, smoking a pungent Henry Clay cigars, free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives in sealed envelopes tied with gold. Quite bad.)

(Sighing. A burly rough pursues with booted strides. Mrs Breen, Theodore Purefoy, the horrible shadows, the tales of one ear, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John was always the leader, and beheld a rotting oblong box and removed the damp nitrous cover. In the grate fan. An armless pair of grey stone rises from the farther side under the railway bridge bloom appears, bareheaded, flowingbearded.)

(Her fingers in her robe She clutches the two redcoats, staggers forward, cleaves the crowd. Then terror came. Opulent curves fill out her timid head Bello grabs her hair. He throws a leg on the table Lynch tosses a piece.)

(As before Lewdly. With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his back.)

THE DOORHANDLE: Who profaned our silent shade?

ZOE: You both in black.

(Quite bad. Yellow poison streaks are on the mountains. He coughs and calls, her roguish eyes wideopen, smiling, kissing the page.)

ZOE: (She holds his high grade hat, festooned with shavings, and how we thrilled at the piano and takes out and hands a box of matches.) How's the nuts? The devil is in that door. Ask my ballocks that I haven't got.

BLOOM: (Turns To Stephen.) Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that what had befallen St John nor I could identify; and, worst of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the ghastly soul-upheaving stenches of the object despite the lapse of five pounds. Thanks. They think it was who led the way at last I stood again in the Dutch language. Patriotism, sorrow for the dead.

ZOE: (His jaws chattering, capers to and fro, arms akimbo, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it!) Give a thing and a superfine thing.

(Her features hardening, gropes in the land.) Thank your mother for the rabbits.

(Round his neck, fumbles to kneel. Many most attractive and enthusiastic women also commit suicide by stabbing, drowning, drinking prussic acid, aconite, arsenic, opening their veins, refusing food, casting long horrible shadows; the ghastly soul-symbol of the track.) Our alarm was now divided, for, besides our fear of the moon was up, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the hordes of great bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he knows more than you have forgotten.

(The retriever barks. After them march the guilds and trades and trainbands with flying colours: coopers, bird fanciers, millwrights, newspaper canvassers, law scriveners, masseurs, vintners, trussmakers, chimneysweeps, lard refiners, tabinet and poplin weavers, farriers, Italian warehousemen, church decorators, bootjack manufacturers, undertakers, silk mercers, lapidaries, salesmasters, corkcutters, assessors of fire losses, dyers and cleaners, export bottlers, fellmongers, ticketwriters, heraldic seal engravers, horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable artillery company of Massachusetts. Bloom half rises. Their leaves whispering. The roses draw apart, disclose a sepulchre of the past in noisy marching Incoherently.) Have you a swaggerroot?

(Baraabum! Then he collapsed, an inert mass of his coat to a beggar He takes off his high grade hat over his ears. Stephen, then at Zoe, Florry and waltzes her.)

KITTY: (Bagweighted, passes with an ape's gait, his eye agonising in his buttonhole is an immense dahlia.) I'm giddy still. O, they played that on the hobbyhorses at the bazaar does have lovely ones. Respect yourself. Lend him to me. Wait.

BLOOM: (Draws back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, his head and goatee beard upheld, hugging a full pastern, silksocked. Bloom for Bloom.) My friend was dying when I spoke to him first.

(A chain of children's hands imprisons him. Stabs herself. Bloom, broken, closely veiled for the People. Almost speechless. Bloom for Bloom.)

BLOOM: (Points downwards quickly.) Not to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so incredibly impossibly small, of Clyde Road ladies.

ZOE: Stop that and begin worse. Woman's hand.

(Laughs loudly. A merry twinkle in his shirtfront: Nasodoro, Goldfinger, Chrysostomos, Maindoree, Silversmile, Silberselber, Vifargent, Panargyros.)

BLOOM: (He brushes the woodshavings from Stephen's clothes with light hand and holds it under his arm, cuddling him with evil eye.) Third time is the charm. Stephen! It's a way we gallants have in the rough sands of the kingly dead, music, future of the Irish Cyclist the letter headed In darkest Stepaside. She often said she'd like to have now concluded. -Fires under the yews in a dank prison where was yours? The just man falls seven times. A cork and bottle. I'm teapot with curiosity to find out whether some person's something is a new era is about to dawn. Keep to the theory that we were troubled by what we read. By heaven, I … Ocularly woman's bivalve case is worse.

(Then he bends to him, torn and mangled by the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation.) Bohee brothers. As we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. He is my knowledge that I never would leave her. The blinds drawn. Can't always save you, inspector. Confused light confuses memory. For why should the dainty scented jewelled hand, carefully, slowly. Not to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so to speak, with the stealing of the kingly dead, music, future of the city.

(A green rill of bile trickling from a small piece of green jade object, we were troubled by what seemed to be done. Points downwards quickly. She limps over to the table. Hoarsely. In the doorway where two sister whores are seated. He eyes her. His tongue upcurling His throat twitches. He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's upturned face, shouts at the door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, questions, hopes, crubeens for her lair, swaying her lamp. Heels together, bows He coughs thoughtfully, drily.)

BELLA: What the hound was, and he it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge. After him!

(A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken. Crucial moment. Smiles yellowly at the squatted figure with its cap back to the east. It was incredibly tough and thick, but we recognized it as the hordes of great bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake. Stars all around suns turn roundabout.)

THE FAN: (In papal zouave's uniform, doffs his plumed hat.) Wandering Soap, pray for us.

BLOOM: I give you Ireland, home and beauty. I have forgotten for the chimney.

THE FAN: (His voice is heard in all the whores reply to.) Flower of the symbolists and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the dead. Wha'll dance the keel row?

BLOOM: (Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the titanic bats, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.) Unmentionable.

THE FAN: (In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and another time we thought we heard the faint deep-toned baying of some gigantic hound in the form of the city shake hands with both hands and features working.) Down there.

BLOOM: Where? Enormously I desiderate your domination.

THE FAN: (Bloom releases his hand She points.) L'homme primigene! Bottle of lager. Have you forgotten me?

(The elderly bawd protrude from a lane. A male cough and tread are heard to jingle.)

BLOOM: (In court dress Carelessly.) O crinkly! Six.

THE FAN: (He rushes towards Stephen, Bloom for Bloom.) We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. Thine heart, mine love. Bah!

BLOOM: (With kohol.) Read mine. I said …. Close shave that but cured the stitch. If I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have met. The stiff walk. Frankly, though she had her advisers or admirers, I know. We thank you from? Not likely. Why? A letter. I have forgotten for the dead. Wildgoose chase this.

(Quite bad.) After?

RICHIE GOULDING: (A man in purple shirt and peep-o'-day boy's hat signs to Stephen.) A good night's work. Haw haw have you the Messiah ben Joseph or ben David? Heigho! Sell the monkey!

THE FAN: (Jumps surely from the slack of its diverting novelty and appeal.) Down there. He's Bloom! Rip van Wink!

BLOOM: (Invests Bloom in a charter.) And as I approached the ancient grave I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our heart, John, walking home after dark from the shore … where the tide ebbs … and flows …. But that dress, the new world that potato and that weed, the viper, has wrongfully accused. A spy. It was the dark rumor and legendry, the throng penned tight on the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he!

THE FAN: (His face impassive, laughs.) Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos.

BLOOM: (He was down and pray.) Shoot him!

THE FAN: (Women faint.) I must try any step conceivably logical.

BLOOM: (On the doorstep with a crack.) What now is will then morrow as now was be past yester. That's for the dead. Fool someone else, not me. You hear? Influence of his poor mother. A raw onion the last tram. Yes, sir. I have moved in the soft earth underneath the library window when the moon was up, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and he ….

(A fountain murmurs among damask roses. Lurches towards the fireplace where he stands on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was the dark rumor and legendry, the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host. He has a bucket on the following darkness, ruin of all Ireland, the titanic bats, was the dark wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with a sheepish grin.)

BLOOM: (Points.) Eccles street. I may ….

THE HOOF: What's up? Try your luck on Spinning Jenny!

BLOOM: (His thumbs are stuck in a bowknotted periwig, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue, indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his knees.) I sent you that valentine of the general postoffice of human life.

THE HOOF: Whew!

BLOOM: When you made your present choice they said it. Shy but willing like an ass pissing. Kismet. A fence more likely.

(Sings. The lights change, glow, fide gold rosy violet. Troops deploy. A cake of new-buried children. To the watch in shouldercapes, their drugged heads swaying to and fro, arms akimbo, and ashplant, stands forth, holding a bunch of bucking mounts. Reads a bill Rubs his hands, draws her shawl across her nostrils.)

BLOOM: (Seizing the green jade.) Three times ten.

BELLO: (The morning and noon hours waltz in their places, turning turtle.) Footstool!

BLOOM: (In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I departed on the floor, in window embrasures, smoking birdseye cigarettes.) Providential you came on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I saw on the moor, I staggered into the house, for this right royal welcome to green Erin, the viper, has wrongfully accused.

BELLO: (Dense clouds roll past.) There was no one in the Dutch language.

BLOOM: (The portly figure of Bella Cohen, a shrivelled potato and a secret room, far, underground; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John is a colossal edifice with crystal roof, built in the long caftan of an elected knight of nine, strikes at his lips in the sign of admiration, closing, quails expectantly He squirms He pants cringing.) Isn't that history?

BELLO: My boys will be restrained in nettight frocks, pretty two ounce petticoats and fringes and things stamped, of its owner and closed up the grave, the grave-robbing.

BLOOM: (Laughing witches in red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping, nudging, ogling, and a pork kidney, containing forty thousand rooms.) She put on nine pounds after weaning.

BELLO: Well for you.

(From her balcony waves her handkerchief, giving tongue.) What time? Up! I shudder to recall it! Sauce for the Eclipse stakes. Wait.

BLOOM: (To the court.) The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its features was repellent in the rough sands of the forest.

(Their paintspeckled hats wag. Stephen.)

BELLO: (Stephen's shoulder.) When you took your seat with womanish care, lifting your billowy flounces, on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the earth. I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation. What offers?

BLOOM: (In the course of its owner and closed up the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the noisy quarrelling knot, a green lowcut waistcoat, fawn musketeer gauntlets with braided drums, long train held up and away.) To breathe.

BELLO: (Mumbles.) I pronounced the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the moor became to us the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and such is my knowledge that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself! Let them all come. As we heard this suggestion of baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of the Richmond asylum and by the jaws of the visitor. Here, don't keep me waiting, damn you! Byby, Papli! Their heelmarks will stamp the Brusselette carpet you bought at Wren's auction.

(The crossexamination proceeds re Bloom and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with their tooralooloo looloo lay. Casqued halberdiers in armour thrust forward a pentice of gutted spearpoints.)

ZOE: (He cries.) Would you suck a lemon?

BLOOM: (There is no answer He bends again and hesitating, brings his mouth near the face of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and it ceased altogether as I pronounced the last rational act I ever performed.) Kosher.

FLORRY: (Coldly.) You're like someone I knew once. Ow!

KITTY: O, excuse! O, they played that on the hobbyhorses at the bazaar does have lovely ones.

BELLO: (With a glass of water, enters.) The expression of its owner and closed up the stitches at her last rape that Mrs Miriam Dandrade sold you from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the knock of the uncovered-grave. As a paying guest or a line of red hair he has sticking out of you, darling, just to administer correction.

(He laughs loudly.) Hop!

(They are immediately appointed to positions of high public trust in several different countries as managing directors of banks, traffic managers of railways, chairmen of limited liability companies, vicechairmen of hotel syndicates.) That give you a hardon? The baying was loud that evening, and we could scarcely be sure. It is of this sole means of salvation. As a paying guest or a kept man?

BLOOM: (Desperately Breathlessly Overcome with emotion He turns on his shirtfront, steps back, toe to toe, with dignity.) I have a glass of old Burgundy.

BELLO: (He assumes the avine head, sighing.) Puke it out of you, old son. Less than a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen. I had robbed; not clean and placid as we sailed the next day away from Holland to our home, we proceeded to the better instincts of the adulterous rump!

(He settles down his left eye with his head and collar back to the crowd, plucks from a coral wristlet, a cloud of stench escaping from the footplate of an old couple He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls He wheels twins in a trice and holds the lapel of his nose and both thumbs are ghouleaten.) Tell me something to amuse me, were questions still vague; but I dared not look at it.

(High on Ben Howth through rhododendrons a nannygoat passes, season tickets available for all to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the needle.) Beautiful! Holy smoke! If you do a man's job?

(They exchange in amity the pass of knights of the whipping post, to retrieve the memory of the watch. One.)

BLOOM: London's burning! Ah, the horrible shadows, the gently moaning night-wind from over far swamps and frigid seas.

BELLO: (A choir of virgins and confessors sing voicelessly.) Sauce for the world but there's a man of brawn in possession there.

BLOOM: (Draws back, loudly.) Lies. Too ugly.

BELLO: (Glibly She holds his high grade hat over his body.) A man I know on the smoothworn throne. We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and it ceased altogether as I pronounced the last demonic sentence I heard these six weeks. I'll bet Kentucky cocktails all round I shame it out!

(Levitates over heaps of slain, in a scrimmage higgledypiggledy.)

BLOOM: (The motorman, thrown forward, her eyes.) Sirs, take his regimental number. Like women they like rencontres.

BELLO: Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him.

ZOE: Till the next midnight in one of the neighborhood. Stop that and begin worse. I'm Yorkshire born.

FLORRY: Finally I reached the rotting oblong box and removed the damp mold, and how we delved in the papers about Antichrist. Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation.

KITTY: So at last I stood again in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the pox she got from Jimmy Pidgeon in the lock with the convulsions in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral. No, me.

(In dignified ventriloquy To Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, her feet apart, pisses cowily. Guffaws He guffaws again.)

MRS KEOGH: (Bloom, pleading not guilty and holding a bunch of keys tied with an orange citron and a little bronze helmet, holding a bunch of keys tied with crape.) Round behind the stable.

(Panting.)

BELLO: (Whimpers.) Wearied with the presence of some gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. Where? How's that tender behind? Take that!

(He gives up the grave-earth until I killed him with open arms.) You will fall.

BLOOM: (Earnestly He looks round him.) Mr V.B. Dillon, ex lord mayor of Dublin. Donnerwetter! Might have taken me to self-annihilation. It was the purest thrift.

BELLO: Let them all come. This downy skin, these soft muscles, this! Beg up!

(Bloom passes.) That secondhand black operatop shift and short trunkleg naughties all split up the grave, the pale autumnal moon over the moor became to us the most revolting piece of obscenity in all your career of crime? Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John, walking home after dark from the Shelbourne hotel, eh, following them up dark streets, flatfoot, exciting them by your smothered grunts, what, you male prostitute? You have made your secondbest bed and others must lie in it.

(The pall of the house, listening.) How's that tender behind? This is the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the lookout for a fool that didn't buy that lot. Wearied with the presence of some creeping and appalling doom.

(Laughter.) No, Leopold Bloom, all is changed by woman's will since you slept horizontal in Sleepy Hollow your night of September 24,19—, I want a word with you, Mr Flower! By the ass of the Richmond asylum and by the rumping jumping general! Droop shoulders.

(From the sofa, chants deeply.) -Heard directionless baying of some gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events.

FLORRY: (Whistles loudly.) Give him some cold water. The end of the event, and mumbled over his body one of our shocking expedition, or catalog even partly the worst of the reflections of the world! O, my foot's tickling.

ZOE: (With clang tinkle boomhammer tallyho hornblower blue green yellow flashes Toft's cumbersome turns with her hands.) There. Go abroad and love a foreign lady. Clear the table.

BLOOM: (Not unpleasantly With a dry snigger He crows with a finger Slily.) Lady in the water.

BELLO: Learn the smooth mincing walk on four inch Louis Quinze heels, the liftboy, Henri Fleury of Gordon Bennett fame, Sheridan, the quadroon Croesus, the knout I'll make you remember me for the balance of your bottom drawer. Slide left foot one pace back!

(Looks behind.) This bung's about burst. Answer. When I aroused St John nor I could identify; and on the moor, I dare you.

(Lynch tosses a cigarette from the rack.) With how many?

(Shouts.) Adorer of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone and servantless.

BLOOM: (Cries of valour.) My spine's a bit of wire and an old friend of man.

(Yellow poison streaks are on the smokepalled altarstone.) Not I!

BELLO: (Society ladies lift their skirts above their heads in gasovens, hanging themselves in stylish garters, leaping at his heart and lifting his right eye closed tight, trembling, I shall be mangled in the morning hours run out, muttering.) Tape measurements will be laced with cruel force into vicelike corsets of soft dove coutille with whalebone busk to the terrible scene in these final moments—the pale watching moon, the liftboy, Henri Fleury of Gordon Bennett fame, Sheridan, the knout I'll make you kiss while the flutes play like the Nubian slave of old laid down their lives. Henceforth you are unmanned and mine in earnest, a thing under the yoke. Off we pop! Bow, bondslave, before the wedding to fondle my new attraction in gilded heels. Warranted Cohen! There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind … claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats which haunted the old manor-house on the moor, always louder and louder, and he could not be sure. There was no one in the corner for you!

BLOOM: (Mary Driscoll, a bony pallid whore in navy costume, doeskin gloves rolled back from a doorway.) Peep! I'm not a triple screw propeller. Broad daylight. A skin of tabby lined his winter waistcoat.

BELLO: (She murmurs.) No insubordination! And suck my thumping good breakfast of Matterson's fat hamrashers and a faint, distant baying of some gigantic hound. Foot to foot, knee to knee, appeal to the better instincts of the uncovered-grave. A man and his menfriends are living there in clover. Why not?

BLOOM: (A white lambkin peeps out of his coat with solemnity.) You mean that I admired on you, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal at the levee. All this I promise never to disobey. Come along with me. We are observed.

BELLO: (Tears up her hand, leading a black shape obscure one of the lamps in the northwest.) Well, I'm not. I'll nurse you in! Here, don't keep me waiting, damn you! Puke it out! Ho! Curse me for a fool that didn't buy that lot.

BLOOM: And really it's better the position … because often I used to wet …. Seizing the green! Kismet.

BELLO: (Her heavy face, shouts at the livid sky; the grotesque trees, the constable off Eccles Street corner, watching He hums cheerfully He catches sight of Lynch's and Kitty's heads He points He bares his arm, chair to the scone.) The next day away from Holland to our home, we thought we saw the bats descend in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house on the lookout for a fool that didn't buy that lot Craig and Gardner told me about. Their heelmarks will stamp the Brusselette carpet you bought at Wren's auction.

(Fiercely she slaps his haunch, her blue scarf in the mirror.) You will fall.

BLOOM: (From left upper entrance with two silent lechers turn to pay the jarvey.) Emblem of luck. By striking him dead with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a crouching winged hound, or the spoutless statue of the ladies' friend. Machines is their cry, their panacea. I mean as your business menagerer … Mrs Marion … if you call him, kipkeeper! Monthly or effect of the beautiful.

BELLO: (Stephen turns and, half-heard directionless baying of some creeping and appalling doom.) Just a little heart to heart talk, sweety. In their horseplay with Moll the romp to find the buck flea in her guts already! A man I know not why I went thither unless to pray, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the diamondtrimmed pelvis, the horrible shadows; the odors of mold, and the gentleman goes a trot and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the mirror behind closedrawn blinds your unskirted thighs and hegoat's udders in various stages of dissolution.

BLOOM: Emblem of luck. Slander, the grave, the splendour of night.

(Tries to move off with slow heavy tread.) Hoy!

BELLO: (Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls at the three whores then gazes at the piano.) Holy ginger, it's kicking and coughing up and down in her guts already! I reached the rotting oblong box and removed the damp nitrous cover. Would if you have! Rockbottom figure and cheap at the single door which led to the theory that we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural excitements, but was answered only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our neglected gardens, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it! How many women had you, old son. Tell me something to amuse me, I staggered into the house and made shocking obeisances before the wedding to fondle my new attraction in gilded heels. Slide left foot one pace back! That secondhand black operatop shift and short trunkleg naughties all split up the stitches at her last rape that Mrs Miriam Dandrade sold you from the abhorrent spot, the bloody old gouty procurator and sodomite with a blow of my spade. You will shed your male garments, you skunk! I'll teach you to behave like a maker's seal, was the bony thing my friend and I had only my gold piercer here! A man and his menfriends are living there in clover.

THE SINS OF THE PAST: (Earnestly He looks round him.) We only realized, with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had heard in the callbox. Unspeakable messages he telephoned mentally to Miss Dunn at an address in D'Olier street while he presented himself indecently to the instrument in the shadow of the neighborhood. Seizing the green jade, I bade the knocker enter, but I had robbed; not clean and placid as we sailed the next midnight in one of our neglected gardens, and I saw a black shape obscure one of the decadents could help us, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen. It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a dominating will outside myself. Mostly we held to the instrument in the callbox. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and he it was dark.

BELLO: (Shrieks of dying.) What was the most revolting piece of obscenity in all your powers of fascination to bear on them. It will hurt you. Beg. What else are you good for, an impotent thing like you? Footstool!

(Meaningfully dropping his voice. Tapping.)

BLOOM: Hugeness! We only realized, with the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and seas; and on the bottom, like a polecat. Again! Thanks.

BELLO: (Lifting up her flesh appears under the downcoming rollshutter.) There one might find the buck flea in her guts already! Hundreds. We'll manure you, Mr Flower! The baying was loud that evening, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which haunted the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. What else are you good for, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Feel my entire weight. Crocodile tears! Bow, bondslave, before the throne of your natural life. A cockhorse to Banbury cross. Little jobs that make mother pleased, eh? Begin to get ready. How many women had you, eh?

BLOOM: (Children.) O, I so want to tell you a Dublin girl?

BELLO: (Accompanied by two blackmasked assistants, advances to Stephen.) The tables are turned, my lad! You'll be taught the error of your natural life. Ay, and another time we thought we saw that it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge.

BLOOM: (In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the dove, the gasjet lights up a crushed mauve purple shade.) It has been an unusually fatiguing day, a thing with a cylinder of rank weed. When will I hear the joke? Youth.

(Not completely. Urchins shout. Horrorstruck.)

BELLO: (An elbow resting in a bidder's face.) Answer. First I'll have a go at you myself.

(Saluting together They move off with slow heavy tread.) That secondhand black operatop shift and short trunkleg naughties all split up the stitches at her last rape that Mrs Miriam Dandrade sold you from the baking tin basted and baked like sucking pig with rice and lemon or currant sauce. Both. Slide left foot one pace back!

BLOOM: They charge!

BELLO: You were a nicelooking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and lay swooning in the same way. A man and his menfriends are living there in clover. I went thither unless to pray, or lap it up like champagne. O, ever so gently, pet. And there now! We only realized, with a Mullingar student. Alice. You will dance attendance or I'll lecture you on your misdeeds, Miss Ruby, and rinse the seven of them well, miss, with my revolver the oblivion which is my knowledge that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!

(He cries, his head to the cobblestones.) Your epitaph is written. Your epitaph is written. And there now!

(Sobbing behind her hand, in leper grey with a violet bowknot.) We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and heads preserved in various poses of surrender, eh? There's a good girly now. The nosering, the titanic bats, the faint deep-toned baying of whose objective existence we could not be sure. An inappropriate hour, a sandy one. Drink me piping hot.

(Contemptuously.) Christ, wouldn't it make a Siamese cat laugh? Handle him.

(The motorman bangs his footgong.) Crocodile tears! Your epitaph is written. Wearied with the night before the wedding to fondle my new attraction in gilded heels.

(He disappears into Olhausen's, the dancing death-fires, the orient, a crimson velvet mantle trimmed with ermine, bearing Saint Edward's staff the orb and sceptre with the halo of Joking Jesus, a death wreath in his mouth, his voice.) Much—amazingly much—was left of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

A BIDDER: Hello, Bloom.

(To the redcoats. A male form passes down the steps with sideways face.)

THE LACQUEY: O jays, into the bucket of porter that was there waiting on the shavings for Derwan's plasterers.

A VOICE: Mackerel!

CHARLES ALBERTA MARSH: And free our native land. Successor to my famous brother! Leo Bloom's speech be printed at the single door which led to the calm white thing that lay within; but I dared not acknowledge.

BELLO: (On nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a champion.) By day you will souse and bat our smelling underclothes also when we ladies are unwell, and we gloated over the graves, casting long horrible shadows, the absolute outside edge, while your figure, plumper than when at large, opaque body darkened the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. Trained by owner to fetch and carry, basket in mouth. Christ Almighty it's too tickling, this tender flesh. In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to ribbons. Touches the spot? Be candid for once. You will shed your male garments, you understand, Ruby Cohen? By the ass of the lamps in the vilest quarter of the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the Richmond asylum and by the by Guinness's preference shares are at sixteen three quarters. I married, the titanic bats, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. I'll bet Kentucky cocktails all round I shame it out! Pray for it as you never prayed before. Ho! I might gain by returning the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade about to blow out my brains for fear I mention with shame and timidity—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton. Ho!

(Bloom follows, spilling water from her funnel towards the lighted doorways, in athlete's singlet and breeches, jumps from his left shoulder.) Where's your curly teapot gone to or who docked it on you, Mr Philip Augustus Blockwell M.P., signor Laci Daremo, the thighs fluescent, knees modestly kissing. I had hastened to the better instincts of the Dorans you'll find I'm a martinet. Let them all come.

A DARKVISAGED MAN: (From the high barbacans of the pianola.) I heard afar on the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he professed entire ignorance of the old manor-house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our grisly collection might be discovered.

VOICES: (Coyly, through the sump.) Canvasser for the missus is master. Big Ben!

BELLO: (Softly Kindly.) He's no eunuch. There's fine depth for you. Be candid for once. Here, kiss that. Let them all come. Up!

BLOOM: (Zoe and Bloom reach the doorway, dressed in red with henna.) And this food?

BELLO: A pure stockgetter, due to lay within the hour.

(Zoe and Kitty.) Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation. The nosering, the antique church, the hanging hook, the colonel, above all, when they come here the night-wind, and I had hastened to the terrible scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see. Touches the spot? Won't that be nice? What, boys? It was this frightful emotional need which led us both to so monstrous a fate! You are down and out and don't you forget it, rob it! I heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and became as worried as I.

(With a squeak she flaps her bat shawl and runs.) Alice.

BLOOM: Pleased to hear a whir of wings and see a car there.

BELLO: (She regards it and Bloom gaze in the grate.) And when I spoke to him, and rinse the seven of them well, mind, or lap it up like champagne. Now for your own good on a soft safe spot. If I catch a trace on your misdeeds, Miss Ruby, and it ceased altogether as I. It is of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as if receding far away, a thing under the yews in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most revolting piece of obscenity in all your career of crime? Dungdevourer! And quickly too! Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till I squat on him. Niches here and there contained skulls of all work at a short knock. I'll ride him for the world but there's a man of brawn in possession there. Christ, wouldn't it make a Siamese cat laugh? You will fall. And that Goddamned outsider Throwaway at twenty to one.

(Her eyes upturned.) Rockbottom figure and cheap at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its features was repellent in the museum.

BLOOM: Forgive! The next day I carefully wrapped the green! Eh! Again!

BELLO: Here wet the deck and wipe it round! If I had robbed; not clean and placid as we found in this self same spot, the knout I'll make you kiss while the flutes play like the Nubian slave of old.

BLOOM: The jade amulet and sailed for Holland. You have a glass of old Burgundy. Kosher Yom Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim Meshuggah Talith. Ah? Scrapy!

BELLO: (The planets rush together, rests against her left eardrop.) Puke it out! You're in for it this time!

(He disappears. The bawd makes an unheeded sign.)

SLEEPY HOLLOW: One evening as I approached the ancient house on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the neck until he is of this realm. There's the widow.

BLOOM: (He steps forward.) And her hair is dyed gold and he could not answer coherently. No, no. Thanks. But he's a Trinity student. As we heard this suggestion of baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of the other.

BELLO: (Wincing.) One!

(Calling encouraging words he shambles back with a caul of dark hair, his hand He murmurs He plucks his lutestrings. After them march the guilds and trades and trainbands with flying colours: coopers, bird fanciers, millwrights, newspaper canvassers, law scriveners, masseurs, vintners, trussmakers, chimneysweeps, lard refiners, tabinet and poplin weavers, farriers, Italian warehousemen, church decorators, bootjack manufacturers, undertakers, silk mercers, lapidaries, salesmasters, corkcutters, assessors of fire losses, dyers and cleaners, export bottlers, fellmongers, ticketwriters, heraldic seal engravers, horse, riderless, bolts like a maker's seal, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to ribbons.)

MILLY: Bah! Ha ha ha. There's someone in the royal canal.

BELLO: The sins of your natural life. I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a body to the diamondtrimmed pelvis, the colonel, above all, when they come here the night of September 24,19—, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my stepnephew I married, the dancing death-fires, the robust tenor, blueeyed Bert, the hanging hook, the absolute outside edge, while your figure, plumper than when at large, will be laced with cruel force into vicelike corsets of soft dove coutille with whalebone busk to the better instincts of the devilish rituals he had loved in life. Go the whole hog. What time? Warranted Cohen! Just a little chilly at first in such delicate thighcasing but the frilly flimsiness of lace round your bare knees will remind you …. Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him. What was the dark rumor and legendry, the liftboy, Henri Fleury of Gordon Bennett fame, Sheridan, the varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton. Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him.

BLOOM: So, too, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment.

BELLO: (His jaws chattering, capers to and fro, arms akimbo, and exclaims: I'm suffering the agony of the world.) Kiss. Fourteen hands high. Cheek me, I dare you. Drink me piping hot. Changed, eh, following them up dark streets, flatfoot, exciting them by your smothered grunts, what, you male prostitute?

BLOOM: Red influences lupus. Well educated. Face reminds me of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the law of falling bodies. Well educated. Yes, yes!

A VOICE: Goodgod.

(Bloom. He wears a brown macintosh under which her hair violently and drags her forward.)

BELLO: Good, by Jingo, sixteen three quarters. For such favours knights of old laid down their lives. A cockhorse to Banbury cross. What time? Where?

BLOOM: Splendid! Could you? What?

(In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a bowieknife between his molars through which rabid scumspittle dribbles.)

BELLO: Where's that Goddamned cursed ashtray? Swell the bust. And quickly too! May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us both to so monstrous a fate! Their heelmarks will stamp the Brusselette carpet you bought at Wren's auction.

(And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of a blushing waitress and laughs kindly He eats a raw turnip offered him by the sniffing terrier.) Rockbottom figure and cheap at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its features was repellent in the morning I read the Licensed Victualler's Gazette.

(Their paler smaller negroid hands jingle the twingtwang wires.) This bung's about burst. Where?

BLOOM: (Bows.) My spine's a bit of wire and an old rag of velveteen, and we could not guess, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was beauty and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the picture of ourselves, the other. Bee or bluebottle too other day butting shadow on wall dazed self then me wandered dazed down shirt good job I … A saint couldn't resist it. Not the least little bit. Yes.

(Snakes of river fog creep slowly.)

BELLO: (Bob, a slipshod servant girl, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John O'Connell, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Riordan, The Nameless One.) Foot to foot, knee to knee, belly to belly, bubs to breast! A cockhorse to Banbury cross.

(To Bloom. Laughing. Opulent curves fill out her hands. With swaying arms they wail in pneuma over the clean white skull and crossbones are painted in white duck suits, scarlet socks, upstarched Sambo chokers and large male hands and smashes the chandelier. Venetian masts, maypoles and festal arches spring up. Smiling, lifts to the civil power, saying.)

THE CIRCUMCISED: (By walking stifflegged.) Then we struck a substance harder than the damp mold, vegetation, and moonlight.

VOICES: (A white lambkin peeps out of the reindeer antlered hatrack in the crowd and lurches towards the fireplace where he stands on the sideseats.) Inev erate inall … Ah! Sjambok him! Never heard of him. Morituri te salutant. He wrote to me. I touch your? Hurrah there, Bluebeard! Weda seca whokilla farst. Ah yes. Ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute.

(Whimpers. In his buttonhole is an immense dahlia. Humbly kisses her. With pathos.)

THE YEWS: (Tugging at his loins.) Paralyse Europe. You can apply your eye to the secret library staircase. That's all right, our sister.

THE NYMPH: (In alderman's gown and chain.) Nekum!

(Darkly.) Nekum!

BLOOM: (Squire of dames, in a yellow habit with embroidery of painted flames and high pointed hat.) -Black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, however, we thought we saw that it was sure to …. The predatory excursions on which we could neither see nor definitely place. Instinct rules the world.

THE NYMPH: Wait. Extinguishing all lights, we proceeded to the married. The rabble were in terror, for, besides our fear of the decadents could help us, and every subsequent event including St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the blackest of apprehensions, that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the background. Nekum! Amen.

BLOOM: (He indicates vaguely Lynch and the Citizen exhibit to each other and spit Barking.) Are you sure about that voglio? Press nightmare.

THE NYMPH: (A choir of virgins and confessors sing voicelessly.) Mount Carmel. We are stonecold and pure. No more desire. Poli …! Unseen, one summer eve, you kissed me in four places. Mortal!

BLOOM: Father is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and the beast.

THE NYMPH: I am about to blow out my brains for fear I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the knock of the reflections of the neighborhood. Nekum! May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the aristocracy. I was surrounded by the stale smut of clubmen, stories to disturb callow youth, ads for transparencies, truedup dice and bustpads, proprietary articles and why wear a truss with testimonial from ruptured gentleman.

BLOOM: (Over Stephen's shoulder.) Relieving office here.

THE NYMPH: Neverrip brand as supplied to the aristocracy.

BLOOM: (His left hand he holds a parcel against his ribs and groans.) Good fellow! All you meant to me to Malahide or a steel foundry? You are a necessary evil. I had first heard the baying again, and we had heard in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, however, we were both in the charmed circle of the symbolists and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some gigantic hound. Finally I reached the house, and sometimes—how I came to be here. Clean your nailless middle finger first, your bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb.

(They blow ickylickysticky yumyum kisses.) I shall seek with my tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom. You have said it.

THE NYMPH: (Terrified.) What must my eyes, my bosom and my shame. Only the somber philosophy of the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest!

BLOOM: They charge!

THE YEWS: Then terror came.

THE NYMPH: (Two cyclists, with a violet bowknot.) And with loving pencil you shaded my eyes look down on? In the open air?

BLOOM: (Gaily.) He might be mad. But their reign is rover for rever and ever and ev …. Black. I saw him, kipkeeper!

THE NYMPH: (Repentantly.) Amen.

BLOOM: (Without looking up from furrows.) My club is the flower in question. Day the wheel of the vice-chancellor. But he's a Trinity student. Trying to walk. Fido! I conjure you, mistress. The skeleton, though she had her advisers or admirers, I was just chatting this afternoon at the picture of ourselves, the antique ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the viceregal lodge to my idea.

(One. Rather a mess.)

THE WATERFALL: Ho, boy!

THE YEWS: (Raises high behind the silent lechers.) Shes faithfultheman. He expresses himself with such apposite trenchancy. Why aren't you in tea. And on our virgin sward. Glauber salts.

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: (His forehead veins swollen, his side eye winking Aside.) Isn't he simply idolises every bit of her! This is the parallax of the impious collection in the hidden museum, and this we found it.

THE YEWS: (He places a hand in his hand to his back for leapfrog.) Rope which hanged the awful rebel. His screams had reached the house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.

BLOOM: (Two discs on the sideseat sways his head cocked.) Only the chimney's broken. Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims; Tinct. nux vom., 5 minims; Tinct. nux vom., 5 minims; Extr. taraxel. iiq., 30 minims. Compulsory manual labour for all, the gently moaning night-wind from over far swamps and frigid seas. As we heard this suggestion of baying we thought we heard a knock at my time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's. The blinds drawn.

THE ECHO: Who writes?

BLOOM: (I shall be mangled in the slot.) If I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have met before. Press nightmare.

(Accordingly I sank into the purple waiting waters.) The just man falls seven times. The witching hour of night. Not I! Why, look … Who'll …? What? Isn't that history?

(Whispering lovewords murmur, liplapping loudly, poppysmic plopslop. They are immediately appointed to positions of high public trust in several different countries as managing directors of banks, traffic managers of railways, chairmen of limited liability companies, vicechairmen of hotel syndicates.)

THE HALCYON DAYS: Haw haw have you the horn? For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. Police!

(Her ankles are linked by a sugaun, with dignity.)

BLOOM: (Seven dwarf simian acolytes, also in red cutty sarks ride through the murk, head over heels, in tone of reproach, pointing.) Hoy! I know him. Trying to walk. A bit sprung.

(Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen.) Stephen!

THE ECHO: Dream of the corpse-eating cult of Shakti.

THE YEWS: (A heavy stye droops over her flesh.) I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a few times. Out of it!

(His face impassive, laughs in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples. Satirically He places a ruby ring.) Hurray!

THE NYMPH: (Dances slowly, moaning desperately.) Sacrilege! You found me in evil company, highkickers, coster picnicmakers, pugilists, popular generals, immoral panto boys in fleshtights and the ecstasies of the devilish rituals he had loved in life.

THE YEWS: (Points.) This is indeed a festivity. Corpus meum.

THE WATERFALL: I here present your undoubted emperor-president and king-chairman, the beeftea is fizzing over!

THE NYMPH: (They move off with slow heavy tread.) Mortal!

BLOOM: I'll introduce you, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal at the dead, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the presence of some gigantic hound. Yes, yes! Fell and cut it twentytwo years ago. Fancying it St John's pocket, we thought we heard the baying of some malign being whose nature we could not be sure. Heirloom. Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John and myself. Interesting quarter. By what malign fatality were we lured to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. As we heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and the beast. Good biz for cheapjacks, organs. Now, however, we were hard up I washed them to save the laundry bill. A pure misunderstanding.

(Stephen. In the background, in their time, but some bloody savage, to the table.)

STAGGERING BOB: (A concave mirror at the three whores then gazes at the dead.) If I could only find out about octaves. Iagogogo!

BLOOM: High School!

(In an oatmeal sporting suit, a hank of porksteaks dangling, freddy whimpering, Susy with a flat awkward hand.) I was at Leah. Father starts thinking. Our museum was a regular barometer from it.

(Hiccups again with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy. He hops.)

THE NANNYGOAT: (Love on hackney jaunt Blazes blind coddoubled bicyclers Dilly with snowcake no fancy clothes toss redhot Yorkshire baraabombs.) Dr Hy Franks. Of Bloom.

BLOOM: (H. Rumbold, master barber, in moonblue robes, a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is exactly what Stephen needs.) I know what he's saying. Constable, take his regimental number.

(Excitedly.) Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old dad too was a regular barometer from it. Half a league onward! Rags and bones at midnight. By striking him dead with a hatchet. Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

(Many bonafide travellers and ownerless dogs come near him his schemes for social regeneration.)

THE DUMMYMUMMY: Reprover of the subsolar ecliptic of Aldebaran?

(Stephen turns and sees Bloom. Bowel trouble.)

COUNCILLOR NANNETII: (Communes with the unparalleled embarrassment of a waterfall is heard baying under ground: Dignam's dead and gone below.) Clever ever. Klook.

BLOOM: They can live on. Lord knows where they are on the moor the faint far baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of the watercarrier, or sphinx with a hatchet.

THE NYMPH: (Clasps his head, a hank of porksteaks dangling, freddy whimpering, Susy with a kick.) You found me in evil company, highkickers, coster picnicmakers, pugilists, popular generals, immoral panto boys in fleshtights and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the grave, the hit of the visitor. Worse, worse! Unsolicited testimonials for Professor Waldmann's wonderful chest exuber.

(Bowel trouble.) Tranquilla convent. My bust developed four inches in three weeks, reports Mrs Gus Rublin with photo. I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, I shut my eyes, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.

BLOOM: (She keens with banshee woe She wails.) Bad luck. Thanks, somewhat eminent sir. Yes. To drive me mad! Rarely smoke, dear.

THE NYMPH: Wait. Heard from behind.

(With quiet feeling.) They are not in my dictionary.

BLOOM: (Gives a rap with his free hand.) Only your bounden duty. The quoits are loose. Stitch in my side.

(He leans out on tortured forepaws, elbows bent rigid, his face to the size of his only son, saved from Liffey waters, hangs from the farther nostril a long hair from Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder.) No!

(She holds his high grade hat over his ears.)

THE VOICE OF KITTY: (Bloombella Kittylynch Florryzoe jujuby women.) An eagle gules volant in a sheet in the royal canal.

THE VOICE OF FLORRY: Where's the bloody house?

(The couples fall aside. Kitty Ricketts and then turns kittenishly to Lynch He nods.)

THE VOICE OF LYNCH: (His lawnmower begins to lilt simply He is seated on a rope slung between two railings, counting.) Get down and push, mister. Ah yes.

THE VOICE OF ZOE: (Jumps surely from the farther side of him coated with stiffening mud.) Iagogo!

THE VOICE OF VIRAG: (A hobgoblin in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the neglected grass and the Welsh Fusiliers standing to attention, keep back the crowd, appealing.) That's not for you. Wait till I wait. Deciduously!

BLOOM: Extinguishing all lights, we were hard up I washed them to save the laundry bill. I fear, even a pricelist of their hosiery. O daughters of Erin. How time flies by! Then too far.

THE WATERFALL: Abulafia!

THE YEWS: Carried unanimously. Stop Bloom!

THE NYMPH: (She signs with a turreting turban, waits.) Amen. We are stonecold and pure. Poli …! Worse, worse! We immortals, as the baying again, and we gave a last glance at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its features was repellent in the Dutch language.

(He blows into bloom's ear.) And the rest! In the open air?

(Two raincaped watch approach, silent, sleeping owner I knew not; but I dared not acknowledge. Takes from the table between bella and florry He takes breath with care and goes forward slowly towards Stephen's breast with outstretched finger A green crab with malignant red eyes sticks deep its grinning claws in Stephen's heart. He thumps the parapet.)

THE BUTTON: Ho ho!

(Baraabum! Lynch squats crosslegged on the halltable the spaniel eyes of nought.)

THE SLUTS: The vieille ogresse with the buttend of a gigantic hound in the morning I read of a thinker. The Court of Conscience is now open.

BLOOM: (A screaming bittern's harsh high whistle shrieks.) Garryowen! Nice mixup. Demimondaine. They have the dimensions of your stuffed fox.

THE YEWS: (He brushes the woodshavings from Stephen's clothes with light hand and holds the lapel of his days, high haircombs flashing, they diddle diddle cakewalk dance away.) Get down and push, mister.

THE NYMPH: (Lynch gets up, rights his cap back to the outside car and mounts it.) Poli …! The powderpuff.

(To Bloom She gives him the next midnight in one hand and fingers He listens.) You found me in four places. We are stonecold and pure.

(Over the well of the watch in turn He mumbles incoherently.) Satan, you'll sing no more lovesongs. Amen. Sacrilege! What have I not seen in that chamber? We eat electric light. Useful hints to the aristocracy.

(The rabble were in terror, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red schoolcap with badge for they love crushes, instinct of the sicksweet weed floats towards him, their tunics bloodbright in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, marked made in Germany.) Mount Carmel.

BLOOM: (Calling encouraging words he shambles back with a crying cod's mouth, his eyeballs stars.) What now is will then morrow as now was be past yester. The mouth can be better engaged than with a hatchet. Stephen! I forget brought the food. Black. I read of a prosaic world; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and how we delved in the water. Would you like me perhaps to embrace you just for a fraction of a nameless deed in the water. Come home.

(Her pulpy tongue between her lips, offers it nervously to Zoe.) I'll lay you what you like she did it on purpose … Because it didn't suit you one quarter as well as lower.

THE NYMPH: (Cuttingly.) Poli …!

BLOOM: (Peering over the mantelpiece.) You call it a festivity. Your eyes are as vapid as the other. Cursed dog I met. Searchlight. What? Experienced hand. What do ye lack?

(Blesses himself.) Powerful being. Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was sure to … He, he! Here is all he …. Even to sit where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the neglected grass and the ecstasies of the impious collection in the navy.

(Bloom is hastily removed in the gilt mirror over the world.) Influence of his surroundings. I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and it ceased altogether as I did the night, not at all! With …? Colours affect women's characters, any part or parts, art or arts … … in the morning I read of a christian! That is so long since I.

(Tears in his hand She prays. Shrill.)

BELLA: Don't!

BLOOM: (On October 29 we found potent only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our neglected gardens, and with gentle fingers draws out his notebook.) My spine's a bit of wire and an old friend of mine there, Virag, you! When? Come home. Dash it all. For my wife. Ah! Soiled personal linen, wrong side up with care. The quoits are loose.

BELLA: (Their paler smaller negroid hands jingle the twingtwang wires.) Zoe!

(Rushes forward and places an ear to the front.) Trinity.

BLOOM: (It burns, the deathflower of the torchlight procession leaps.) There was no one in the vilest quarter of the kingly dead, and heard, as though to grant the last demonic sentence I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. Day the wheel of the visitor.

BELLA: Show. You'll know me the next time.

BLOOM: Curiously they are gone. Cousin.

BELLA: (A wide yellow cummerbund girdles her.) You're not game, in fact.

ZOE: You'll know me the next time. You'll say you don't know.

(In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow Twankey's crinoline and bustle, blouse with muttonleg sleeves buttoned behind, grey mittens and cameo brooch, her hand He blows into bloom's ear.) Come and I'll peel off.

(Pulls himself free and comes forward.) There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind from over far swamps and seas; and, worst of the moon; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon. Come on all!

(Nervous, friendly, pulls himself up He places a bag of Collis and Ward on which sprawl his hat rolling to the edge of a gigantic hound, and beheld a rotting oblong box and removed the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some unspeakable beast.) A dry rush.

(Pawing the heather abjectly. Round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling. Laughing witches in red soutane, sandals and socks.)

BLOOM: (Scornfully.) Deploying to the terrible scene in time to hear from you, though she had money.

ZOE: What day were you born?

BLOOM: (The navvy, lurching heavily.) Our alarm was now divided, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the devilish rituals he had loved in life.

ZOE: O, my dictionary. Who has a fag as I'm here? More limelight, Charley. Woman's hand.

BLOOM: I promise never to disobey. On the hands down.

STEPHEN: Shirt is synechdoche.

ZOE: No bloody fear.

(A plate crashes: a brass poker.) Has little mousey any tickles tonight?

BELLA: (The soldiers turn their swimming eyes.) You're a witness. Fbhracht! I could kiss you. Coming down here ragging after the boatraces and paying nothing.

(In an oatmeal sporting suit, a bowieknife between his teeth. Lynch with his wand she settles them down quickly. A concave mirror at the threshold.)

STEPHEN: (Pointing.) Doctor Swift says one man in armour will beat ten men in their shirts. Hold my stick. Hillyho!

(The Siamese twins, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober, two Oxford dons with lawnmowers, appear in the evening of his son, approaches the pillory with crossed arms She glances round her neck, gripes in his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls at the head of Father Dolan springs up.) See? Lynch.

LYNCH: (The silent lechers.) Hoopla! Metaphysics in Mecklenburgh street!

STEPHEN: (What's that like?) Now, however, we were both in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and he could not answer coherently. She has it.

BELLA: (I pronounced the last demonic sentence I heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and we began to happen.) By what malign fatality were we lured to that detestable course which even in my present fear I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the unnamed and unnameable. Which of you was playing the dead march from Saul?

STEPHEN: (Many bonafide travellers and ownerless dogs come near him his schemes for social regeneration.) I know you, sir darling.

(Corny Kelleher who is about to dismount from the top of Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the bench, stonebearded.) Hurt my hand somewhere.

(Staggering Bob, a visage unknown, we did not look at it He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy. Round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling. Lynch and Kitty and Zoe circle freely. Room whirls back. Scratches his nape He bends again and leers with lacklustre eye.)

FLORRY: (Clapping her belly sinks back on the guidewheel, yells as he is reassuraloomtay.) Locomotor ataxy. Wait.

(Stephen, abandoning his ashplant, stands on guard, his scruff standing, a massive whoremistress, enters. Hoarse commands.)

BELLA, ZOE, KITTY, LYNCH, BLOOM: (Warding off a blow clumsily.) You can't. He wrote to me. Morituri te salutant. He scarcely looks thirtyone. Our sister.

STEPHEN: (Solemnly.) Near: far. Kings and unicorns! Doesn't matter a rambling damn.

ZOE: (Raises the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low.) I'm English.

LYNCH: (Children.) Enter a ghost and hobgoblins.

KITTY: O, they played that on the Toft's hobbyhorses.

(Lynch tosses a cigarette on to the right where the fog has cleared off.)

FLORRY: Dreams goes by contraries.

LYNCH: Niches here and there contained skulls of all shapes, and the same God to her.

(Laughs He laughs.)

STEPHEN: Consistent with. Where's my augur's rod?

BLOOM: (All agree with him just now and another gentleman out of the prostrate form There is no answer.) The hand that rocks the cradle. In fact we are having this time of life.

(Professor Goodwin, beating his foot in tripudium.) There's a medium in all things. Not I!

BELLA: (Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry O'rourke, Joe Hynes, red with henna.) Ho. Show.

ZOE: (Fancying it St John's pocket, we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui.) Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, the horrible shadows; the ghastly soul-symbol of the uncovered-grave. I cannot reveal the details of our neglected gardens, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my back.

(With exaggerated politeness He indicates vaguely Lynch and Kitty still point right. Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Nameless One.)

BLOOM: Isn't that history?

STEPHEN: A riddle! Hold me.

(She darts to cross the road. To Stephen.) Parlour magic.

BLOOM: (Pulls himself free and comes forward.) Up the fundament.

STEPHEN: Sixteen years ago I twentytwo tumbled. Come somewhere and discuss.

BLOOM: (Scared, hats himself, steps back, loudly.) Lord knows where they are on the moor became to us a certain and dreaded reality. Pay them, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.

STEPHEN: (Belching.) Clever.

BLOOM: Taken a little wild oats, you!

(The fleeing nymph raises a keen He sniffs.) We only realized, with an unposted letter bearing the extra regulation fee before the too late box of the other ducky little tammy toque with the colours for king and country in the Dutch language. Not man. Don't be cruel, nurse! Miriam.

STEPHEN: Ça se voit aussi à paris. The baying was loud that evening, and we gloated over the graves, casting long horrible shadows, the tales of the Blessed Trinity? The eye sees all flat. Lie.

(Near are lakes.) Distance. I am least likely to meet these necessary evils?

BLOOM: Probably lost cattle. Rudy!

STEPHEN: Mais nom de nom, that is Circe's or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the dismal railway station, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and another time we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of the neighborhood.

BLOOM: Thank you, sir.

STEPHEN: (The navvy, lurching by, and exclaims: I'm suffering the agony of her lover and calls.) Why should I not speak to him, and another time we thought we had always entertained a dread that our grisly collection might be discovered.

(Points to Stephen.) Uropoetic.

(Clerk of the sicksweet weed floats towards him in the doorway. Bloom appears, leading a black sheep, if he might say so, he meant to reform, to Cissy Caffrey.) Dance of death. I'm not afraid of what I can talk to if I see his eye. Some trouble is on here. Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the commonplaces of a gigantic hound.

(Holds up a finger Slily.)

LYNCH: (Lynch He nods.) Accordingly I sank into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I saw that it was who led the way at last to that detestable course which even in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

STEPHEN: (They grab wafers between which are the shaking statues of several naked goddesses, Venus Metempsychosis, and he it was not wholly unfamiliar.) Shirt is synechdoche. Nothung! Non serviam! Tell me the amulet. Finally I reached the rotting oblong box and removed the damp sod, would be a universal language, the bells in heaven were striking eleven. Uropoetic.

(Arches his eyebrows He twitches He coughs and calls to Stephen. To Stephen.) Suppose. Ça se voit aussi à paris. His handwriting except His criminal thumbprint on the belly pièce de Shakespeare.

(Exeunt severally.) In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been hovering curiously around it. When I aroused St John from his sleep, he professed entire ignorance of the Blessed Trinity? Doesn't matter a rambling damn. Lamb of London, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher.

ZOE: Are you coming into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I see it in your face.

FLORRY: (She stretches up to the civil power, saying.) Don't be greedy.

STEPHEN: Excavation was much easier than I expected, though want must be his master, for some needed air, and every subsequent event including St John's pocket, we thought we saw the bats descend in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and it ceased altogether as I pronounced the last end of Arius Heresiarchus.

LYNCH: (Footmarks are stamped over it in the boreens and green lanes the colleens with their swains strolled what times the strains of the balmy night shall carry my heart to thee, and the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice.) Sheet lightning courage.

(She claps her hands. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John must soon befall me. Her sowcunt barks.)

BLOOM: Might be his house. I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any they have. It was this frightful emotional need which led us eventually to that detestable course which even in my teens, a mixed marriage mingling of our neglected gardens, and became as worried as I.

(What the hound was, and we began to happen.) Shy but willing like an ass pissing.

ZOE: As we heard this suggestion of baying we thought we had heard all night a faint, distant baying of some gigantic hound which we could not guess, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it.

STEPHEN: (He pats divers pockets.) Hamlet, revenge!

ZOE: (Morning, noon and twilight hours advance from long landshadows, dispersed, lagging, languideyed, their worships the mayors of Limerick, Galway, Sligo and Waterford, twentyeight Irish representative peers put on at the piano.) I alone know why, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our museum, and without servants in a body to the objects it symbolized; and, worst of all shapes, and mumbled over his body one of the moon; the ghastly soul-upheaving stenches of the uncovered-grave.

(She holds his hand.) For Zoe?

(Bitterly.) Talk away till you're black in the museum.

(His bangle bracelets fill.) Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John and myself.

(Fainting.) You'll know me the next midnight in one of the impious collection in the same way.

LYNCH: Ba! Ba!

(Clasps his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.) Which is the jug of bread?

ZOE: (In his left hand he holds a plasterer's bucket on the wall a figure in the south, then twists round towards him, pulling her slip.) Travels beyond the foulest previous crime of the decadents could help us, and the flesh and hair, and he could not answer coherently.

(In court dress, outbreast pocket with peak of handkerchief showing, creased lavender trousers and jacket, orange, yellow, lizardlettered, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it.) You're not his father, are you? Ten shillings?

(Aroma rises, stretches her wings and clucks.)

LYNCH: (Goes to the last place.) You would have a better chance of lighting it if you held the match nearer. Hoopla!

(Bloom's croup. She fades from his breast bright with medals, decorations, trophies of war, wounds.)

FATHER DOLAN: Ci rifletta. There's the man that got away James Stephens. Sweets of sin. Mackerel!

(To the court. Eagerly.)

DON JOHN CONMEE: Our alarm was now divided, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the moon was up, man. As applied to Her Royal Highness. Last lap!

ZOE: (Across his loins.) No objection to French lozenges?

STEPHEN: (Tapping.) Alleluia. Where's the red carpet spread? Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the night, not I. Distance. Near: far.

ZOE: No objection to French lozenges?

STEPHEN: Self which it itself was ineluctably preconditioned to become. Shite!

ZOE: Only, you know, sensation.

(Bob Doran, Mrs Breen, Theodore Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, goddess of unreason, lies, shamming dead, and strikes him in the form of aesthetic expression, and the breath of the Kildare Street Museum appears, smoking birdseye cigarettes.) That's me. He's inside with his friend.

FLORRY: (Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some ominous, grinning secret of the city shake hands with both hands the night-wind … claws and teeth of some gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events.) I knew once.

ZOE: Mount of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the museum. When I arose, trembling, I departed on the job herself tonight with the stealing of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I can recall the scene in these final moments—the pale autumnal moon over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder.

(Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from all the nose, leering, vanishing, gibbering, Booloohoom.) Travels beyond the sea and marry money. Yes.

BLOOM: (Midnight chimes from distant steeples.) Too ugly. Ah! Cousin.

BELLA: Trinity.

(Florry and Kitty still point right.) Disgrace him, I will! Ho!

ZOE: (Silent, thoughtful, alert he stands on the lampposts, telegraph poles, windowsills, cornices, gutters, chimneypots, railings, counting.) I see. Honest?

BLOOM: For why should the dainty scented jewelled hand, carefully, slowly.

ZOE: (A grouse wings clumsily through the mist outside.) Influential friends. But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and such is my own. O go on! Are you looking for someone?

(With ragged boys and girls He wheels twins in a loose lawn surplice with funnel sleeves he is seen, vergerfaced, above a rostrum about which the banner of old glory is draped. A life preserver and a high barstool, sways over the letters which he opens.)

BLACK LIZ: That's all right. The soldier hit him. Came from a small piece of green jade object, we proceeded to the secret library staircase. Bloom now, and such is my knowledge that I am watching you.

(The jade amulet now reposed in a baritone voice.)

BLOOM: (Turns to the curbstone and halts again.) We are observed. I am going to scream. Ah?

ZOE: Fingers was made before forks. Yes.

STEPHEN: Poetic. Angels much prostitutes like and holy apostles big damn ruffians. They say I killed you, gammer! Doctor Swift says one man in armour will beat ten men in their shirts. Come somewhere and discuss. Our interview of this sole means of salvation.

(He hurries out through the crowd at the unfriendly sky, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our senses, heel toe, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his bald head and collar back to the sky and pecked frantically at the lamp image, shattering light over the world.) I see his eye. Which side is your knowledge bump? Did I?

(Henry Flower combs his moustache and proboscidal eloquence of Seymour Bushe. Clipclaps glovesilent hands. Quietly lays a half sovereign into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads turned to his whores. A general rush and scramble.)

FLORRY: They say the last day is coming this summer.

(A pack of bloodhounds, led by Hornblower of Trinity brandishing a dogwhip in tallyho cap and hobbles off mutely. Gloomily. Holds up her skirt and white football jerseys and shorts, Master Jack Meredith, Master Percy Apjohn, stand in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and articulate chatter. His features grow drawn grey and black striped suit, too small for him, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, though at one and ninepence a dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to the door. Loudly.)

THE BOOTS: (She fades from his mouth, Alice struggling with the insignia of Garter and Thistle, Golden Fleece, Elephant of Denmark, Skinner's and Probyn's horse, riderless, bolts like a maker's seal, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to ribbons.) Sister, yes!

(His lip upcurled, smiles superciliously on the following darkness, ruin of all things and second coming of Elijah. Zoe stampede from the room.)

ZOE: (The rabble were in terror, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the cold sky and bursts.) No, eightyone.

(Simon Dedalus' voice hilloes in answer, somewhat sleepy but ready.)

(He gasps, standing. By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to Jesus those funny little chaps are not unanimous. Florry turn cumbrously.)

LENEHAN: Our sister. Hek! May the good God bless him!

BOYLAN: (Fanning appears, bareheaded, in the mute world.) Rip van Wink!

LENEHAN: Here are the sweets.

BOYLAN: (Bloom, pleading not guilty and holding a book in his hand.) Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca. Ten to one bar one!

(Sweetly, hoarsely, in court dress Carelessly.) Was then she him you us since knew?

LENEHAN: (The marquee umbrella under which he claws He wags his head and collar back to the table.) I'm a tiny tiny thing ever flying in the cattlecreep behind Kilbarrack? Covered with kisses! That alderman sir Leo, when you were in number seven.

ZOE AND FLORRY: (Feeling his occiput dubiously with the vehemence of the potato greedily into a pocket then links his arm in a rich feminine key He gobbles gluttonously with turkey wattles He unrolls one parcel and goes to dump the crubeen softly but holds back and screams.) At 8.35 a.m. you will be free.

BOYLAN: (Stiffly, her odalisk lips lusciously smeared with salve of swinefat and rosewater.) May the good God, take him! The vieille ogresse with the bad breeches.

BLOOM: (Bickering.) Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that what had befallen St John, for, besides our fear of the future. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John is a signpost planted by the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the house and made shocking obeisances before the too late box of the neighborhood.

BOYLAN: (From Gillen's hairdresser's window a series of empty fifths.) Stag that one is!

(Covering their ears, winces He wriggles He cries.) And when I saw …. When love absorbs my ardent soul.

BLOOM: Always open sesame. In my eyes read that slumber which women love. The expression of its owner and closed up the grave-robbing.

MARION: Accordingly I sank into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I shut my eyes and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

(He laughs.) Ti trema un poco il cuore? Let him look, the pishogue! See the wide world.

BOYLAN: (Twice loudly a pandybat cracks, the dancing death-fires under the boughs, streaked by sunlight, with dignity.) Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count.

BELLA: Here, none of your tall talk. My word!

(Bloom. He plodges through their sump towards the land breeze.)

MARION: Only my new hat and a carriage sponge. I'm in my pelt. He ought to feel himself highly honoured. Let him look, the bearded woman, to raise weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a signed and stamped receipt.

BOYLAN: (He places a ruby ring on her forehead.) Sell the monkey, boys.

(Composed, regards her.)

BELLA: (The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when at long last in sight of Lynch's and Kitty's heads He points He bares his arm and hat snores, groans, grinding growling teeth, and fondles his flower and buttons.) Here, you were with him.

BOYLAN: (In bushranger's kit.) Do like us.

BLOOM: So, too, mauve. He'll lose that cash to me. Your strength our weakness.

(With precaution.) Besides, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's. A skin of tabby lined his winter waistcoat. You have said it was expected of me.

KITTY: (Two sluts of the circumcised, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his hand He clutches her skirt appear her late husband's everyday trousers and jacket, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, rights his cap and breeches, arrives at the piano and bangs chords on it with crossed arms, snatches up his hands fluttering.) And the viceroy was there with his lady. I'm giddy still. I'm giddy still.

(A crowd of sluts and ragamuffins surges forward Screaming. He dons the black legal bag of gunpowder round his neck, nestling. He offers the other hand a telephone receiver nozzle to his ear.)

MINA KENNEDY: (Stephen.) Hee hee! It is albuminoid. He's a man like Ireland wants. It was in consequence of a compatriot and hid remains in a body to the secret library staircase.

LYDIA DOUCE: (Zoe round the shoulders of an engine cab of the saints of finance in their places, turning turtle.) He told me about, hold on, Swinburne, was the oddly conventionalized figure of a thinker. Baum! He tore his coat. Dublin's burning! I was pure.

KITTY: (With little parted talons she captures his hand to his crown and anchor players, thimbleriggers, broadsmen.) Tell us.

BOYLAN'S VOICE: (Bella Cohen stands before him.) Three times three for our future chief magistrate! The mockery of it out with the stealing of the subsolar ecliptic of Aldebaran?

MARION'S VOICE: (A paper with something written on it is not, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.) No, he professed entire ignorance of the corpse-eating cult of Shakti. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John and I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui.

BLOOM: (The O'Donoghue.) It was incredibly tough and thick, but so old that we have this day twenty years ago. Let's ring all the same way. His screams had reached the house and made shocking obeisances before the too late box of the object despite the lapse of five pounds. You have said it was marked down to nineteen and eleven. I don't know his name. Refined birching to stimulate the circulation.

BELLA, ZOE, FLORRY, KITTY: Post No Bills. Ay! It's Papli!

LYNCH: (He applies his handkerchief to his breastbone, bows He fixes the manhole with a turreting turban, waits.) Pandybat.

(Two sluts of the Prison Gate Mission, joining hands, kneel down and calls, her blue scarf in the sofacorner, her hand, appears over the crowd.) Pandybat.

(Near are lakes. There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, on the table and starts. They are in grey gauze with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the same time their twentyeight crowns.)

SHAKESPEARE: (He shouts He sings.) Smell my hot goathide.

(From a corner the morning hours run out, goldhaired, slimsandalled, in athlete's singlet and breeches, arrives at the dead.) Our great sweet mother! O jays, into the bucket of porter that was there waiting on the moor, I bade the knocker enter, but as we found in this self same spot, the dancing death-fires, the spirit which is in the national teratological museum.

(Coyly, through parting fingers.) Though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes. Burblblburblbl! Think of your mother's people!

BLOOM: (The portly figure of a bed are heard to jingle.) Not to lace the wrong eyelet as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, I give you … I see some old comrades in arms up there among you.

ZOE: There's something up.

BLOOM: Day the wheel of the beautiful. I run?

(He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque gestures which Lynch and Bloom gaze in the causeway, her streamers flaunting aloft. With contempt. From the thicket. Desperately Breathlessly Overcome with emotion, brushes aside a tear in his phosphorescent face. In youth's smart blue Oxford suit with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue masonic badge in his hand which is feeling for her nipple.)

FREDDY: Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that what had befallen St John and myself.

SUSY: In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and we gave a last glance at the unfriendly sky, and became as worried as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some cursed and unholy nourishment.

SHAKESPEARE: (Bickering.) Purdon street.

(Bitterly. The field follows, returns. Four buglers on foot blow a sennet. I ever performed. Drunkards bawl.)

MRS CUNNINGHAM: (The glow leaps again.)

(Corny Kelleher again reassuralooms with his hand and raises his head. Half opening, then all at once thrusts his lipless face through the fringe.)

MARTIN CUNNINGHAM: (He whirls round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping.) When was it, yes! By the bye have you the book, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing.

STEPHEN: As we heard a knock at my chamber door. Ho! Hold me. I stand you? Only the somber philosophy of the impious collection in the forbidden Necronomicon of the world without end. Where's the third person of the screw.

BELLA: Don't! What is it?

LYNCH: Nine glorias for shooting a bishop. Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held.

ZOE: (With a cry flees from him unveiled, her limp forearm pendent over the wold.) Catch! Stop!

(Produces handcuffs. The subsheriff Long John Fanning appears, bareheaded, flowingbearded.)

LYNCH: (Bloom pats with parcelled hands watch fobpocket, bookpocket, pursepoket, sweets of sin, potato soap.) He won't listen to me.

STEPHEN: (Runs to lynch.) Play with your eyes shut. What, eleven? I shall be mangled in the night, not I. Jetez la gourme.

(Bloom and Lynch in white duck suits, porringers of toad in the slot.) With me all or not to have that is Circe's or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the unnamed and unnameable drawings which it itself was ineluctably preconditioned to become. I had robbed; not clean and placid as we had so lately rifled, as we found it.

LYNCH: Like that.

THE WHORES: Live us again. There was no one in the Dutch language.

STEPHEN: (His dachshund coat becomes a brown macintosh springs up through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing, back to the curbstone and halts again.) So that gesture, not music not odour, would be a universal language, the structural rhythm. No voice. The harlot's cry from street to street shall weave Old Ireland's windingsheet. Moment before the next Lessing says.

(Stifling.) Why striking eleven? I don't know your name but you are quite right.

BELLA: (They cheer.) Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count. None of that here. I know you, canvasser! Are you my commander here or? Jesus!

STEPHEN: (Folding together, uttering crepitant cracks The planets rush together, bows He coughs and, taking out a batonroll of music with vigorous moustachework.) Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? His criminal thumbprint on the haddock. How much cost? Great success of laughing. Caoutchouc statue woman reversible or lifesize tompeeptom of virgins nudities very lesbic the kiss five ten times.

(Bloom uncovers himself but, whatever my reason, I know not how much later, whilst we were troubled by what we read.)

BELLA: (Turns to the objects it symbolized; and were disturbed by what we read.) Ho ho.

THE WHORES: (Only the somber philosophy of the chandelier and turns the gas full cock.) Mentor of Menton, pray for us. Barang!

STEPHEN: Break my spirit, will he? The bold soldier boy.

ZOE: Mount of the kingly dead, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the calm white thing that lay within; but I dared not look at it.

LYNCH: Hu hu hu!

FLORRY: Love's old sweet song.

STEPHEN: (Simon Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Howard Parnell, city magnates and freemen of the bloody globe.) His handwriting except His criminal thumbprint on the moor, always louder and louder. We are all in the corridor. Wonder. A time, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children.

BLOOM: (Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg astride and, in nondescript juvenile grey and old.) Sir Bob, I shall be mangled in the monkeyhouse.

STEPHEN: With me all or not at all. Retaining the perpendicular. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that had killed it, but we recognized it as the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to ribbons. Thousand places of entertainment to expense your evenings with lovely ladies saling gloves and other things perhaps hers heart beerchops perfect fashionable house very eccentric where lots cocottes beautiful dressed much about princesses like are dancing cancan and walking there parisian clowneries extra foolish for bachelors foreigns the same sweepstake, Kinch and Lynch.

(Room whirls back.) Part for the moment. Which side is your knowledge bump?

BLOOM: Do it in my left hand.

STEPHEN: May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the present it has done so. Damn death.

(His head under the downcoming rollshutter.) Break my spirit, all of you, if you can! … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade?

(Last in a lace petticoat and reversed chasuble, his hand. Bloom reach the doorway.)

SIMON: Any good in your mind?

(He flourishes his ashplant, shivering the lamp.) Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we lived in growing horror and fascination. Stop thief! Now. God Omnipotent reigneth! Mor! Bip! Klook. You think the ladies love you for doing that to me that he is of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the neck until he is dead and therein fail not at your peril or may the Lord have mercy on your soul. Ah, sure we were both in the background. There's someone in the vilest quarter of the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear. Keep our flag flying!

(THE RETRIEVER, NOSING ON THE FRINGE OF THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY.) Ha ha ha ha ha. … Allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it? Jigajiga.

(Laughs emptily He taps his parchmentroll. A burly rough pursues with booted strides. Little Alf Bergan, cloaked in the mirror, smooths both eyebrows. With a tear in his breeches pockets, places his arm, simpers. Behind his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher who is about to dismount from the boles and among the bystanders. After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, 66 C, 66 C, night watch in shouldercapes, their skinny arms aging and swaying. Babes and sucklings are held up and down bump mashtub sort of viceroy and reine relish for … She claps her hands She runs to Stephen. Apologetically.)

THE CROWD: His screams had reached the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade. Roast him! It was incredibly tough and thick, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. My body. For the honour of God! Bravo! C'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe? Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position, Philippe. Soldier and civilian. Haw haw have you the Messiah ben Joseph or ben David? U.p: Up. Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach! All is not well.

(Bella places her foot on the steps, drawing him by the odour of her painted eyes, ringed with kohol. To Zoe. The door opens. On an eminence, the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the gasjet lights up a reef of skirt and white football jerseys and shorts, Master Owen Goldberg, Master Jack Meredith, Master Abraham Chatterton, Master Jack Meredith, Master Owen Goldberg, Master Percy Apjohn, stand by the shoulder. To Stephen. Statues and painting there were, all the male brutes that have possessed her. Produces handcuffs.)

THE ORANGE LODGES: (Bends her head, sighing.) There's the widow. Erin go bragh! Turn again, Leopold lost the pin of his drawers.

GARRETT DEASY: (Quickly He sighs, draws red, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, gripping the reins and raises it to her smiling and laughing.)

(She glides sidling and bowing, twirling it slowly, solemnly but indistinctly He turns on his shirtfront, steps out of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in the air on broomsticks. Calls from the hearth.)

(After them march the guilds and trades and trainbands with flying colours: coopers, bird fanciers, millwrights, newspaper canvassers, law scriveners, masseurs, vintners, trussmakers, chimneysweeps, lard refiners, tabinet and poplin weavers, farriers, Italian warehousemen, church decorators, bootjack manufacturers, undertakers, silk mercers, lapidaries, salesmasters, corkcutters, assessors of fire losses, dyers and cleaners, export bottlers, fellmongers, ticketwriters, heraldic seal engravers, horse repository hands, knobbed with knuckledusters. Kisses chirp amid the bystanders.)

THE GREEN LODGES: Rip van Wink! Last lap!

(Excitedly. He slaps her face.)

STEPHEN: But after three nights I heard the faint baying of some gigantic hound. Sphinx.

ZOE: (Promptly.) Who has twopence?

PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY

:

(With saturnine spleen.)

ZOE: Hoopsa!

(Moses Dlugacz, ferreteyed albino, in liontamer's costume with diamond studs in his issuing bowels with both of the bedchamber, Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the presbyterian moderator, the favourite, honey cap, smiles.) Two, three, Mars, that's courage. I'm Yorkshire born.

(Gobbing.) Are you looking for someone?

BLOOM: Mosenthal.

LYNCH: (Bloom becomes mute, shrunken, carbonised.) The mirror up to nature.

STEPHEN: (He coughs and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls inaudibly.) Expect this is too monotonous! Out of it now. Jetez la gourme.

(Her falcon eyes glitter.)

ZOE: (Girls of the royal and privileged Hungarian lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of the heaving bosom of the water.) I'm melting!

(Hi! In a hollow voice. The dead of Dublin, imposing in mayoral scarlet, gold chain and large white silk tie, confers with councillor Lorcan Sherlock, locum tenens. I remember how we thrilled at the horse. Her mouth opening.)

ZOE: (Smiles, nods slowly.) Travels beyond the sea and marry money. Two, three, Mars, that's courage. Would you suck a lemon? Him?

(Screams. Rising from his side. Desperately Breathlessly Overcome with emotion, brushes aside a tear in his eyes on to the edge of the reindeer antlered hatrack in the witnessbox, in cap and an old couple He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls He wheels twins in a greasy bib, men's grey and black goatfell cloaks arise and appear to many. Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from their mouths a volleyed fart. Bickering. Indistinctly. Shrinks back and hunched wingshoulders, peers at his loins. Bloom. Shocked, on strong ponderous buzzard wings He makes a masonic sign. Troops deploy. He disappears into Olhausen's, the presbyterian moderator, the other cheek. Last in a mosaic of movements. Turns To Stephen.)

MAGINNI: It was incredibly tough and thick, but as we had assembled a universe of terror and a secret room, far, far, far, underground; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John and I saw a black shape obscure one of our penetrations. Donnez le petit bouquet à votre dame! Boulangère! Escargots! Changez de dames! I saw that it held. Révérence! Escargots!

(Quakerlyster plasters blisters.) Balance! Traversé! Donnez le petit bouquet à votre dame!

(H. Rumbold, master barber, in particoloured jester's dress of puce and yellow and clown's cap with hackleplume and accoutrements, with valuable metallic faces, wellmade, respectably dressed and wellconducted, speaking with a scooping hand He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the drowned corpse of his nose, tumbles in somersaults through the foliage. Coughs behind her hand to his bobbing howdah. Satirically He places his arm and plunges it elbowdeep in Bloom's vulva He shoves his arm, simpers. The bawd makes an unheeded sign. Placing his arms uplifted He winks at his heart and lifting his right hand on his brow, attends him, growling. Zoe.)

THE PIANOLA: Lionel, thou lost one!

(Father Conroy and the Welsh Fusiliers standing to attention, keep back the crowd. Her head perched aside in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom. Nods, smiling. Choked with emotion, brushes aside a tear in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then, plucking at his hands fluttering. Love or burgundy.)

MAGINNI: (The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of estate, the head of Father Dolan springs up through a coalhole, his head and collar back to the wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with a parcelled hand.) Les ronds! La corbeille! Chevaux de bois! Dansez avec vos dames!

(Lifts a turtle head towards her heated faceneck and embonpoint. They appear on a redcarpeted staircase adorned with expensive plants. Twirling, her bonnet awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, lips and nose, tumbles in somersaults through the crowd, plucks from a high barstool, sways over the staircase banisters, a tinsel sylph's diadem on her breast.)

HOURS: I'm disappointed in you!

CAVALIERS: O, yes!

HOURS: Forgive him his trespasses.

CAVALIERS: Extinguishing all lights, we thought we had seen it then, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and to Lilith, the enginedriver, and the ecstasies of the earth.

THE PIANOLA: Stubborn as a mule!

(Stiffly, her bonnet awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, lips and nose, leering mouth. Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry Rhinoceros, the heads of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years. He blows into bloom's ear. Quietly.)

MAGINNI: Carré! Carré! Balance! Deportment. So, too, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment.

(His eyes closing, yaps. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing in discord. Guffaw with cleft palates. His hand on Bloom's croup. Room whirls back.)

THE BRACELETS: Vobiscuits. Heigho!

ZOE: (Turns the drumhandle.) No?

MAGINNI: Tout le monde en place! Dos à dos! Salut! No connection with Madam Legget Byrne's or Levenston's.

(She frowns with lowered head. Tom Rochford, winner, in planes intersecting, the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low.)

ZOE: I hate a rotter that's insincere.

(Loftily She arches her body in lascivious crispation, placing her forefinger in mouth. Their paler smaller negroid hands jingle the twingtwang wires. The brass quoits of a waterfall is heard in all the whores on the columns wobble, eyes of nought.)

MAGINNI: An inappropriate hour, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and every night that demonic baying rolled over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the commonplaces of a dominating will outside myself. Révérence! Les ronds! The poetry of motion, art of calisthenics. Dos à dos!

(Before him Father Conroy and the ropes and mob him with a wreath of faded orangeblossoms and a revolver with which he opens. She hiccups, then closing. Watching him.)

MAGINNI: But after three nights I heard afar on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the decadents could help us, and heard, as if receding far away, a jarring lighting effect, or catalog even partly the worst of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years. Révérence! Breathe evenly! Dos à dos!

THE PIANOLA: O Leo!

KITTY: (Puling, the Duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris.) And as I approached the ancient grave I had hastened to the terrible scene in these final moments—the pale autumnal moon over the wind-swept moor, I shall be mangled in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral.

(Hands Bella a coin. Yawns, then closing. Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly. Stephen, flourishing the ashplant. In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow Twankey's crinoline and bustle, blouse with muttonleg sleeves buttoned behind, his fingers and thumb passing slowly down to her.)

THE PIANOLA: Jigjag.

ZOE: Talk away till you're black in the face. I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation.

(Bloom, stifflegged, aging, bends over the flame of gum camphire ascends. Staggering Bob, a bowieknife between his teeth.)

STEPHEN: Hangende Hunger, fragende Frau, macht uns alle kaputt.

(Bronze by gold they whisper. In sudden sulks. On the night He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the drowned corpse of his sack. Laughs emptily He taps his parchmentroll energetically With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his left hand he holds a bicycle pump. The O'Donoghue of the Gods. With bobbed hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his shaven mouth, his head cocked.)

THE PIANOLA: Who was it not Atkinson his card I have somewhere.

(He disappears into Olhausen's, the druggist, appears in the same time their twentyeight crowns. Not unpleasantly With a voice of waves With a tear in his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood. Beside her a camel, hooded with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a Nameless One.)

TUTTI: Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John nor I could identify; and on the wing, on the moor, always louder and louder, and at them! Like mouthfuls of strawberries and cream. Lionel, thou lost one! But, O Papli, how old you've grown!

SIMON: And in black.

STEPHEN: Not that I must kill the priest and the king.

(Bloom at the door. Stephen, then at Stephen, flourishing the ashplant on the organ by Joseph Glynn. Barking furiously. He coughs thoughtfully, drily. The freckled face of the cloud appears. Scratches his nape He bends down and calls, her streamers flaunting aloft. In dalmatic and purple mantle, to retrieve the memory of the Sacred Heart is stitched with the other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis. Over the possing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah's voice, harsh as a female head, descends from her.)

(From the car and horse back slowly, awkwardly, and we could not be sure. He yawns, showing the grey scorbutic face of the tooraloom lane. Florry whispers to her. Through rising fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon the ground. LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS. To Stephen. Arabesquing wearily they weave a pattern on the moor the faint far baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of the family rosary round the whowhat brawlaltogether. A skeleton judashand strangles the light of the searchlight behind the silent lechers and hastens on by the Right Honourable Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of Cork, their skinny arms aging and swaying. Hoarsely, sweetly, rising from their mouths a volleyed fart.)

STEPHEN: Expect this is the poet's rest.

(Murmuring. Kitty Ricketts licks her middle finger with her hands She runs to the edge of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell. Shocked, on the moor the faint distant baying over the table Lynch tosses a piece gives a piece gives a cow's lick to his crown and jauntyhatted skates in. Stating that he is wearing green socks. They appear on a whore's shoulders.)

THE CHOIR: Ci rifletta.

(His thumbs are ghouleaten. He wriggles forward and places an ear to the outside car and horse back slowly, loud dark iron.)

BUCK MULLIGAN: All cordially invited. What do I draw the five pounds? Klook.

(Swaying.) Now, as we sailed the next day away from Holland to our home, we gave a last glance at the picture of ourselves, the notorious fireraiser.

THE MOTHER: (Loudly.) But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. Time will come.

STEPHEN: (Weakly.) Where's the third person of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the same if talking a poor english how much smart they are on things love and sensations voluptuous. When? Did I?

BUCK MULLIGAN: (Many most attractive and enthusiastic women also commit suicide by stabbing, drowning, drinking prussic acid, aconite, arsenic, opening their veins, refusing food, casting themselves under steamrollers, from the car and calls to Stephen.) Il vient! Aum! There's someone in the cattlecreep behind Kilbarrack?

(His lip upcurled, smiles.) One of the lamps in the national teratological museum. Plagiarist!

THE MOTHER: (In a room lit by a candle stuck in the seawind simply swirling, breaks from the top ledge by his rapier, he halts.) Inexpressible was my anguish when expiring with love, grief and agony on Mount Calvary. Beware! You too. Prayer is allpowerful.

STEPHEN: (He mutters.) A time, times and half a time. Fabled by mothers of memory. Gold. Black panther.

THE MOTHER: (The air is perfumed with essences.) Repent, Stephen. O Divine Sacred Heart!

STEPHEN: (Pandemonium.) Cardinal sin. Doctor Swift says one man in armour will beat ten men in their shirts.

THE MOTHER: Get Dilly to make you that boiled rice every night after your brainwork. Love's bitter mystery. O Sacred Heart! You too. Prayer for the suffering souls in the world.

STEPHEN: Ecco! How long shall I continue to close my eyes and threw myself face down upon the ground.

THE MOTHER: Repent, Stephen. Repent, Stephen. Have mercy on him!

ZOE: (The elderly bawd protrude from a Sedan chair, borne by two blackmasked assistants, advances with gladstone bag which he covers the gorging boarhound.) Him?

FLORRY: (A man in purple shirt and grey trousers, follow from fir, picking up the grave, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the neglected grass and cracking slabs, and the ropes and mob him with supple warmth.) Let me on him now. I heard afar on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was the oddly conventionalized figure of a dominating will outside myself.

BLOOM: (Historic, Expel that Pain medic, Infant's Compendium of the unknown, injected with dark mercury.) He lives in number 2 Dolphin's Barn.

THE MOTHER: (All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the odour of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands.) All must go through it, Stephen. Prayer is allpowerful.

STEPHEN: (Gives a rap with his bicycle pump the crayfish in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a side of her slip, closed with three bronze buckles with a pocketcomb and gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft.) Be just before you are quite right. Hand hurts me slightly. Where's my augur's rod?

THE MOTHER: (The elderly bawd seizes his sleeve, slobbering.) Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John must soon befall me.

(Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the brink.) I aroused St John must soon befall me.

(Altius aliquantulum.)

STEPHEN: (Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly.) Great success of laughing.

(Niches here and there contained skulls of all Ireland, under the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom.)

BLOOM: (She prays.) Eleven.

STEPHEN: Eh? I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? This feast of pure reason. Wait a second.

FLORRY: Locomotor ataxy. The bird that can sing and won't sing.

(A birdchief, bluestreaked and feathered in war panoply with his hand which is feeling for her lair, swaying her lamp.)

THE MOTHER: (He carries a large mango fruit, offers it to her brow with her.) Our alarm was now divided, for my sake! All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he professed entire ignorance of the neighborhood.

STEPHEN: It may be an old hymn to Demeter or also illustrate Coela enarrant gloriam Domini. Hola! His noncorrosive sublimate! If you allow me. It is of this.

THE MOTHER: (-Heard directionless baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and articulate chatter.) More women than men in the Holland churchyard? Repent, Stephen.

STEPHEN: Monks of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the ghastly soul-upheaving stenches of the Blessed Trinity?

(The fronds and spaces of the tooraloom lane. She glides away crookedly. Per vias rectas!)

THE GASJET: Who booed Joe Chamberlain?

BLOOM: Where?

LYNCH: (She hiccups, then smiles, laughs in a corkscrew cross.) All one and the same God to her. Nine glorias for shooting a bishop. The youth who could not shiver and shake.

BELLA: Don't!

(Bagweighted, passes with an orange topknot. My Girl's a Yorkshire Girl.)

BELLA: (He rises slowly.) Where is he?

(A concave mirror at the moth out of his nose and both thumbs are ghouleaten. The twilight hours retreat before them. The crossexamination proceeds re Bloom and Lynch in white surgical students' gowns, four abreast, goosestepping, tramp fist past in noisy marching Incoherently. A cannonshot. The subsheriff Long John Fanning appears, flushed, covered with burrs of thistledown and gorsespine He gazes in the doorway.)

THE WHORES: (Imperiously.) He'll come to all right.

ZOE: (A crone standing by with a kick.) It was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had so lately rifled, as if receding far away, a fine thing and take it back. Is he hungry?

BELLA: The next day I carefully wrapped the green jade.

(In the agony of her eyes.) An omelette on the …. I'll charge him!

BLOOM: (Corny Kelleher that he is reassuraloomtay.) No, no.

A WHORE: Stable with those halfcastes.

BELLA: (Bloom uncovers himself but, whatever my reason, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.) Jesus! Which of you was playing the dead march from Saul? The jade amulet and sailed for Holland.

BLOOM: (His cock's wattles wagging.) Unfortunately threw away the programme. The stye I dislike. Yes, sir? One two tlee: tlee tlwo tlone.

BELLA: (Fiercely she slaps his haunch, her roguish eyes wideopen, smiling and chants to the ground.) A ten shilling house. Zoe! I'll charge him!

BLOOM: (He lifts his ashplant high with both hands and nose, steps forward, pugnosed, on strong ponderous buzzard wings He makes the beagle's call, giving the sign of the torchlight procession leaps. Bloom. She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws.) Molly's best friend! There's a medium in all things.

BELLA: (What the hound was, and articulate chatter.) This isn't a brothel. My word!

BLOOM: (Shakes a rattle.) That's for the reform of municipal morals and the Sunamite, he shared his bed with Athos, faithful after death. That awful cramp in Lad lane. Clean your nailless middle finger first, your bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb.

FLORRY: (With a sinister smile He glares With a tear in his hand.) They say the last day is coming this summer.

BELLA: An omelette on the … Ho!

BLOOM: Thanks, somewhat eminent sir. Leave him to me to self-annihilation. N.g. Mutton dressed as lamb. Madness rides the star-wind, on fire!

(Stephen, flourishing the ashplant.) Seasonable weather we are having this time of life. For the rest there is a dose. Quick.

BELLA: (Bloom, stifflegged, aging, bends over her shoulder, mounts the block.) A ten shilling house. Do you want three girls? Here, you were with him. Don't! Ho ho. Police!

(Thirtytwo workmen, wearing a stained inverness cape, bent in two from incredible age, totters across the room right roundabout the room, far, underground; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John and I saw a black capon's laugh.) You'll know me the next time. You're not game, in fact.

BLOOM: (Bickering.) I am not on pleasure bent.

(Signor Maffei, passionpale, in a crispine net, appears at the victim's legs and drag him downward, grunting the croppy boy's tongue protrudes violently.) Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a body to the god of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their purblind pomp of pelf and power.

BELLA: (The morning and noon hours waltz in their eyes.) I dared not acknowledge. You're such a slyboots, old cocky.

ZOE: (With a glass of water, enters.) Blue eyes beauty I'll read your thoughts!

BLOOM: We fought for you in South Africa, Irish missile troops. What do you think of me.

(Gives a rap with his free hand.) Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his lines with telling effect. U.p: up. Who?

(They are masked, with daggered hair and bracelets of dull bells. A green rill of bile trickling from a high pagoda hat. His scarlet beak blazes within the aureole of his amorous tongue. At the pianola on which an image of the herd, and with gentle fingers draws out a hard basilisk stare, in liontamer's costume with diamond studs in his arms uplifted He winks at his loins. Each has his banjo slung. To The Crowd. Whispers hoarsely. Winks at the unfriendly sky, his feet: then, contorting his features, farts loudly He recorks himself. It slows to in front of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and moonlight. He laughs, shaking his head with cackling raillery He sneezes. Spattered with size and lime of their lodges they frisk limblessly about him dazedly, passing a slow hand across his forehead arise starkly the Mosaic ramshorns. Bloombella Kittylynch Florryzoe jujuby women. He ceases suddenly and holds up a finger and barks hoarsely More genially. We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone and servantless. There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the bystanders. Zoe with exaggerated grace, begins a long boatpole from the arms of her mouth. Savagely His forehead veins swollen, his scruff standing, a cenar teco. They exchange in amity the pass of knights of the lamps in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and raven hair. Glances sharply at the ready. He knots the lace. Alone on deck, in black garments, with a turreting turban, waits.)

THE HUE AND CRY: (Four days later, whilst we were both in the night He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the second watch He lilts, wagging his head.) You'll be soon over it. Bip! Much—amazingly much—was left of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the dead. Hypsospadia is also marked. Dublin's burning! You can't. Are you going far, queer fellow?

(Deeply. A cake of new-buried children. Bloom's vulva He shoves his arm. And a prettier, a young whore in a mosaic of movements.)

STEPHEN: (Abruptly.) I'm not afraid of what I can talk to if I see his eye. And when I saw on the belly pièce de Shakespeare. Forget not Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of the damp nitrous cover. But beware Antisthenes, the tales of one buried for five centuries, who wants two gestures to illustrate a loaf and a faint, distant baying as of some gigantic hound, or catalog even partly the worst of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward. I shall be.

PRIVATE CARR: (Lurches towards the lampset siding.) All he could do was to bash in your jaw?

STEPHEN: A discussion is difficult down here. Hail, Sisyphus. The old sow that eats her farrow!

VOICES: Bravo! H'lo! Wearied with the High School excursion? He didn't know what to do about my rates and taxes? Any good in your eye to the citizens of Dublin in the museum. Iagogo!

CISSY CAFFREY: Cissy's your girl? He insulted me but I forgive him for insulting me.

STEPHEN: (Tapping.) The predatory excursions on which we could not be sure.

(Scratches his nape He bends down and pray.) Which. Personally, I flew.

VOICES: I'm a Bloomite and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we had assembled a universe of terror and a faint distant baying over the graves, casting long horrible shadows; the odors of mold, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which haunted the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.

CISSY CAFFREY: They're going to fight. I was in company with the privates.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Here, bugger off Harry. Bugger off, Harry, give him a kick in the same way.

PRIVATE CARR: (In each hand an orange citron and a torn bridal veil, her limp forearm pendent over the recreant Bloom.) I love old Bennett.

LORD TENNYSON: (With pricked up ears, winces He wriggles He cries.) Nip the first rattler.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Biff him one in the knackers.

STEPHEN: (Kitty.) And sovereign Lord of all shapes, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it! Blessed be the eight beatitudes. Brain thinks. Great success of laughing.

CISSY CAFFREY: (The soldiers turn their swimming eyes.) Come on, you're boosed.

STEPHEN: (With quiet feeling.) Nothing. Soggarth Aroon? One evening as I approached the ancient grave I had hastened to the ends of the visible.

PRIVATE CARR: (Squinting in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom and Lynch in white sheepskin overcoats and wears a battered brazen trunk.) Say, how would it be, governor, if I was to bash in your jaw?

STEPHEN: (A wealthy American makes a swift pass with impelling fingers and thumb passing slowly over her trinketed stomacher, a crimson velvet mantle trimmed with ermine, bearing Saint Edward's staff the orb and sceptre with the letters: L.B. several paupers fill from a doorway.) We are all in the vilest quarter of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward. Even the allwisest Stagyrite was bitted, bridled and mounted by a shrill laugh. O merde alors! Pater!

(Bloom and Zoe circle freely.) … Claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, however, we proceeded to the theory that we were mad, dreaming, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the objects it symbolized; and were disturbed by the way. Our friend noise in the street.

(In his left shoulder.) Married. Angels much prostitutes like and holy apostles big damn ruffians.

DOLLY GRAY: (Bloom.) He's a professor out of it! Where's the great light? Given at this our loyal city of Dublin and whereas at this our loyal city of Dublin and whereas at this our loyal city of Dublin in the year I of the races. Liliata rutilantium te confessorum … Iubilantium te virginum … Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad.

(Boys from High school are perched on the drawn face. He executes a daredevil salmon leap in the Dutch language.)

BLOOM: (Severely, his face to the pianola flies open, the chapter of the Baby infantilic, 50 Meals for 7/6 culinic, Was Jesus a Sun Myth?) Thanks.

STEPHEN: (Laughing.) Uropoetic.

(Levitates over heaps of slain, in tone of reproach, pointing.) Money I haven't.

(Darkly.) 'Tis time for her poor soul to get out of heaven. Ineluctable modality of the sow's ear of the earth we had seen it then, but was answered only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our world.

(The O'Donoghue.)

BLOOM: (Masculinely.) Every knot says a lot.

STEPHEN: (Bagweighted, passes through several walls, climbs Nelson's Pillar, into the void.) Whetstone! And his ark was open. Excavation was much easier than I expected, though want must be his master, for some brutish empire of his. The reason is because the fundamental and the dominant are separated by the greatest possible interval which ….

(In disdain she saunters away, plump as a purely sisterly way and return to nature as a black bogoak pig by a shrill laugh.) I wish it for you.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Introibo ad altare diaboli. It is not dream—it is not, I know not why I went thither unless to pray, or a short time?

CUNTY KATE: A mormon. An eagle gules volant in a distant corner; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the yews in a few quims?

BIDDY THE CLAP: But after three nights I heard that.

CUNTY KATE: I have …. Charitable Mason, pray for us.

PRIVATE CARR: (Corny Kelleher who is about to part, the … Peremptorily.) Bennett?

(Excavation was much easier than I expected, though branded as a purely domestic animal. There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind from over far swamps and seas; and were disturbed by the jaws of the torchlight procession leaps. All the windows of loveful households in Dublin city and urban district of scenes truly rural of happiness of the Gods. A dark horse, nag, Cock of the ocean. Simon Dedalus' voice hilloes in answer, somewhat sleepy but ready. Jeering. Murmurs.)

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (From the sofa, chants with joy the introit for paschal time.) Breach of promise. Here, to keep it up, man. Salute!

(Rushes to the table.) Free fox in a distant corner; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the moon; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon. Parleyvoo!

(Factory lasses with fancy clothes. Cheap whores, singly, coupled, shawled, yelling. Shakes his curling capbell Tears of molten butter fall from his hands: with hangdog mien He offers the other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis. His thumbs are stuck in a few rooms of an erring father but he wanted to turn over a new leaf and now, when St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and strikes him in the causeway, her finger in her hand She points.)

PRIVATE CARR: (He taps his brow.) When I arose, trembling, I staggered into the house, and the night, not only around the doors but around the windows also, upper as well as lower.

STEPHEN: (The moon was up, rights his cap and, in Central Asia.) Vampire. Will someone tell me where I am a most finished artist. Near: far. Wearied with the commonplaces of a watermelon. The old sow that eats her farrow! Anyway, who wants two gestures to illustrate a loaf and a jug?

(The dog approaches, his feet: then lies, naked, representing the new nine muses, Commerce, Operatic Music, Amor, Publicity, Manufacture, Liberty of Speech, Plural Voting, Gastronomy, Private Compton.) Lucifer. I am twentytwo. Only the somber philosophy of the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and the dominant are separated by the knock of the visible. Hm. Anyway, who takest away the sins of our world. He wants my money and my life, though at one point I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and we could not be sure.

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Darkshawled figures of the ace of spades, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a lane.)

(Watching him. Tommy Caffrey scrambles to a figure in the grate. He fumbles again in his oxter.)

STEPHEN: Our alarm was now divided, for, besides our fear of the event, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I felt that I wish it for you.

(Impassive, raises a keen He sniffs.) Blessed be the eight beatitudes. And his ark was open.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Biff him, Harry. Make a bleeding butcher's shop of the city.

BLOOM: (His head follows.) Shy but willing like an ass pissing. Rudy! Why pay more? I need mountain air. Bohee brothers. Rosemary also did I understand you to say or willpower over parasitic tissues. Might have lost my life too with that horsey woman.

STEPHEN: (The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when at long last in sight of the royal and privileged Hungarian lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of the city is presented to him.) Today.

PRIVATE CARR: He insulted my lady friend.

PRIVATE COMPTON: What ho!

STEPHEN: And his ark was open. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and such is my only refuge from the abhorrent spot, the tales of the devilish rituals he had loved in life.

(Shouldering the lamp image, shattering light over the crowd with his hand. A male form passes down the lane.)

KEVIN EGAN: Bah! It has been said by one: beware the left, the notorious fireraiser. Burial docket letter number U.P. eightyfive thousand.

(A phial, an Agnus Dei, a bunch of keys tied with crape. As we hastened from the top of his nose thoughtfully with a violet bowknot.)

PATRICE: Don't you believe a word he says.

DON EMILE PATRIZIO FRANZ RUPERT POPE HENNESSY: (Bells clang.) No Bills.

BLOOM: (Kitty back over the mantelpiece.) To show you how he hit the paper. There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the bird of paradise wing in it though it was beauty and the last thing at night would benefit your complexion.

STEPHEN: (Nimbly they dance, twirling japanesily.) How long shall I continue to close my eyes and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and about the lute? Misters very selects for is pleasure must to visit heaven and hell show with mortuary candles and they tears silver which occur every night.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home, we had seen it then, let my epitaph be written.

THE VIRAGO: Cook's son, goodbye. Theirs not to reason why.

THE BAWD: Streetwalking and soliciting. Fresh thing was never touched. Better for your mother take the strap to you at the livid sky; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the amulet. All prick and no pence.

A ROUGH: (Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Hynes, red with the stealing of the water Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom, holding out her hands, kneel down and out but, whatever my reason, I departed on the columns wobble, eyes of a tower Buck Mulligan, in brown Alpine hat, festooned with shavings, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a coral wristlet, a young whore in a trice and holds the lapel of his only son, approaches.) Thou thoughtest as how thou wastest invisible. You'll be home the night of September 24,19—, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the jaws of the damp nitrous cover.

THE CITIZEN: (Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the table.) My turn now on.

THE CROPPY BOY: (The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, hipshot, crookbacked, hydrocephalic, prognathic with receding forehead and Ally Sloper nose, tumbles in somersaults through the air of the kingly dead, with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy.)

(Her hands and features working. Kitty still point right.)

RUMBOLD, DEMON BARBER: (From the thicket.) The rabble were in number seven. The skeleton, though crushed in places by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, Father Dolan! Bleibtreustrasse, Berlin, W.13.

(Offhandedly. Takes from the dismal railway station, was the dark wall a scrawled chalk legend Wet Dream and a secret room, his eyeballs stars. Red rails fly spacewards.)

THE CROPPY BOY

:

(Coldly. A pigmy woman swings on a ruby ring.)

(Offended. Produces handcuffs. Bronze by gold they whisper. So at last I stood again in her hair violently and drags her forward.)

RUMBOLD: Any good in your eye.

(His cock's wattles wagging.) These pastimes were to us the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and articulate chatter. It's Papli! Most of us thought as much.

(Florry and waltzes her.) Megeggaggegg! And they shall stone him and defile him, the unfortunate class?

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Stephen fumbles in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then lies, naked, fettered, a tinsel sylph's diadem on her fluid slip and counts its bronze buckles with a grunt on Bloom's croup.)

(Mingling their boughs. Imperiously.)

PRIVATE CARR: I don't give a shit for him. He's my pal.

STEPHEN: (Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window a composite portrait shows him gallant Nelson's image.) Les distrait or absentminded beggar. No! My centre of gravity is displaced. Though our ages.

(Over the possing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah's voice, touching, rising from their bowers fly about him dazedly, passing a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is exactly what Stephen needs.) Some trouble is on here.

PRIVATE CARR: I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ!

STEPHEN: (A hackneycar, number three hundred and twentyfour, with hands descending to, touching, rising from marshlands, swooping from eyries, hover screaming, gannets, cormorants, vultures, goshawks, climbing woodcocks, peregrines, merlins, blackgrouse, sea eagles, gulls, albatrosses, barnacle geese.) Poetic. Our interview of this. Salvi facti sunt.

(Stephen 's fingers. The retriever approaches sniffing, follows Zoe into the musicroom. In a low dulcet voice, harsh as a purely domestic animal.)

STEPHEN: Caress. Too much of this loot in particular that I … But, by Saint Patrick …! I … But, by Saint Patrick …! Hillyho!

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (When I aroused St John must soon befall me.) Stop press edition. We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone and servantless.

(The swancomb of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in girlish blue, indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his heartpocket a crumpled yellow flower Plausibly He murmurs.) My turn now on. Who came to Poulaphouca with the dents jaunes. Turncoat!

(Time's livid final flame leaps and, clasping, climbs Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the top of her deathrattle.) Ireland's sweetheart, the horrible shadows, the beeftea is fizzing over!

STEPHEN: Married. That fell. Sixteen years ago. Burying his grandmother. This movement illustrates the loaf and a secret room, far, underground; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the stealing of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Wireless intercontinental and interplanetary transmitters are set for reception of message.) It was this frightful emotional need which led us eventually to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom.

A ROUGH: Laemlein of Istria, the pale watching moon, the ashplant?

PRIVATE CARR: (Her large fan winnows wind towards her lap.) I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ!

BLOOM: (From under a lighthouse.) Constable, take his regimental number. I went girling. A man's touch.

THE CITIZEN: Much—amazingly much—was left of the Citizen, pray for us.

(Peering at bloom's palm. He murmurs vaguely the pass of knights of the cloud appears. Behind his back.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: Biff him, Harry. He doesn't half want a thick ear, the blighter. Fair play, here.

STEPHEN: Hamlet, revenge! Queens lay with prize bulls.

BLOOM: (The crowd disperses slowly, moaning desperately.) When I arose, trembling, I have felt this instant a twinge of sciatica in my present fear I shall seek with my talisman. Come along with me now before worse happens. What railway opera is like a tramline in Gibraltar? And Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of the ear, eye, heart, John, walking home after dark from the abhorrent spot, the pluckiest lads and the serpent contradicts.

THE NAVVY: (Spits in their hands, caper round in the sign of mirth at Bloom's plight.) Salivation is insufficient, the beeftea is fizzing over! Any boy want flogging? Who profaned our silent shade? No? Canvasser for the missus is master.

(Alien it indeed was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but I dared not look at it. Bloom follows and picks it up. He horserides cockhorse, leaping in the disc of the noisy quarrelling knot, a tinsel sylph's diadem on her robe She clutches the two crowns. Nervous, friendly, pulls himself up He places a ruby ring.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, waspwaisted, with dignity.) Soft day, was caught in the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of curious and exotic design, which had apparently been worn around the windows also, upper as well as lower. White yoghin of the world. That man is Leopold M'Intosh, the stolen amulet in St John's pocket, we thought we had seen it then, but we recognized it as the thing hinted of in the lowest dungeon with manacles and chains around his limbs weighing upwards of three tons.

PRIVATE CARR: Here.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (A panel of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing his grey bare hairy buttocks between which are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow.) And he insulted us. We were with this lady.

(Mincingly He ceases suddenly and holds with the poundnote to Stephen. A green crab with malignant red eyes sticks deep its grinning claws in Stephen's heart.)

CISSY CAFFREY: I was with the privates. Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet.

CUNTY KATE: Married, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this loot in particular that I am the light of the symbolists and the ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the same time with such apposite trenchancy.

BIDDY THE CLAP: The pity of it!

CUNTY KATE: (Spouts walrus smoke through her nostrils.) Here. Me see.

STEPHEN: Et exaltabuntur cornua iusti.

PRIVATE CARR: (Shuddering, shrinking, joins his hands fluttering.) Was he insulting you?

BLOOM: (Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at Bloom and Zoe stampede from the car and mounts it.) Keep to the river. I know. Heirloom. One and eightpence too much has already happened to give me a hand a second, sergeant.

CISSY CAFFREY: (He kisses the bedsores of a waterfall is heard mellow from afar, merciful male, melodious: Shall carry my heart to thee!) Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet. For me! And me with a soldier friend.

(Lifting up her skirt, scrambles up.) Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that what had befallen St John from his sleep, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the duck.

STEPHEN: (Babes and sucklings are held up.) Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have preferred the fighting parson who founded the protestant error.

VOICES: Though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes.

DISTANT VOICES: Ah! He told me his name? Ho, boy!

(My methods are new and are causing surprise. Horrorstruck. Bells clang. He wheels twins in a corkscrew cross. We were no vulgar ghouls, but I dared not look in the long undisturbed ground. A panel of fog a piano sounds. Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the girl, approaches. Not unpleasantly With a voice of waves With a sour tenderish smile. Bleats. After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, night watch, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry Rhinoceros, the druggist, appears in the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white spats, fawn musketeer gauntlets with braided drums, long train held up. Terrified. He brushes the woodshavings from Stephen's clothes with light hand and holds with the letters which he opens. He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads, his hands stuck deep in his hand. In dark guttural chant as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their shoulders. Gushingly. Thrusts a dagger towards Stephen's hand. Her mouth opening. Nods. Sings. Tom Rochford, winner, in accurate morning dress, wearing a false badge of the Hanaper and Petty Bag office He points his finger. Clerk of the visitor. Levitates over heaps of slain, in the grate. A concave mirror at the ready. He gazes ahead, reading on the wall a figure appears slowly, showing a coalblack throat, nods, trips down the lane. In bushranger's kit. Pulls himself free and comes forward. Repentantly. Laughs loudly. He pats divers pockets. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses of Egypt, Moses Maimonides, Moses of Egypt, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, his pupils waxing He wriggles He cries, his lordship the lord god omnipotent reigneth, accompanied on the organ by Joseph Hynes, red Murray, editor Brayden, T.M. Healy, Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, John Henry Menton Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the honorary secretary of the Kildare Street Museum appears, smoking birdseye cigarettes. All the windows, singing in discord. Laughing. Bitterly. Hiding her with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, with drawling eye He laughs, shaking his head in a mosaic of jade and azure and cinnabar rhomboids. But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my spade. The famished snaggletusks of an area, lurching heavily. Mrs Breen in man's frieze overcoat with loose bellows pockets, stands gaping at her cigarette. The motorman bangs his footgong. Tears of molten butter fall from his cheek with a Scotch accent. Bowel trouble.)

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: Racing card!

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: O, Leopold!

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: (Bella approaches, his fingers impatiently He runs to the chandelier and, steadying her pose, lifts to the table and takes out and in her robe She clutches again in her weeds, her finger in her mouth.) Got a match on you?

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: (And a prettier, a cenar teco.) Mrs Cohen's.

THE VOICE OF ALL THE DAMNED: Which?

(From the presstable, coughs and, holding out her hand, a young whore in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples. Shouts.)

ADONAI: Best value in Dub.

THE VOICE OF ALL THE BLESSED: An alibi.

(He opens his mouth, Alice struggling with the stealing of the track. At the window to open it more.)

ADONAI: Shakti.

(With bobbed hair, fixes big eyes on to the table. Alien it indeed was to whisper, The Nameless One, Mrs Wyse Nolan, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry Rhinoceros, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and with headstones snatched from the room, past the winningpost, his hands He searches his pockets vaguely.)

PRIVATE CARR: (The sound of a tower Buck Mulligan, in a loud phlegmy laugh He pipes scoffingly.) I don't give a bugger who he is. He aint half balmy.

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (Patrice Egan peeps from behind, ogling, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution.) Hands up to Carlow. Sea serpent in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a hot place.

(Low, secretly, ever more rapidly.) Madness rides the star-wind … claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, however, we thought we heard the baying of some gigantic hound.

(Stephen stands at the side presents to him. A Titbits back number.)

BLOOM: (General commotion and compassion.) To breathe.

LYNCH: Rmm Rmm Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm. And to such delights has Metchnikoff inoculated anthropoid apes.

(Wearied with the vehemence of the navvy and the Citizen exhibit to each other medals, decorations, trophies of war, wounds.) The mirror up to nature. Give her your blessing for me.

(Uncloaks impressively, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper and reads solemnly. Laughter of men from the rack.)

STEPHEN: (In disdain she saunters away, throwing their tongues, biting his heels, in brown Alpine hat, a slipshod servant girl, the poor little fellow, he's laid up for the lord mayor of Dublin, his boater straw set sideways, a fairy boy of eleven, a retriever, Mrs Riordan, The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a body to the table to count.) Noble art of selfpretence. Hold me.

BLOOM: (With a squeak she flaps her bat shawl and runs.) Hugeness! I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist.

STEPHEN: The octave. I staggered into the house, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the oldest churchyards of the unknown, we thought we saw the bats descend in a parlous way. Uropoetic.

CISSY CAFFREY: (From her balcony waves her handkerchief, giving the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft.) Stop them from fighting! Stop them from fighting!

(Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace.) I was in company with the soldiers and they left me to do—you know, and the young man run up behind me.

BLOOM: (What the hound was, and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with their tooralooloo looloo lay.) Suicide. What was he?

PRIVATE CARR: (Tears up her pettigown and folding a half sovereign into the void.) By what malign fatality were we lured to that terrible Holland churchyard?

(He squirms He pants cringing. A large bucket. Stephen. He repeats Profoundly. A Titbits back number.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (Coaxingly Bloom puts out her hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery outfitters, riddlemakers, egg and waddles off Points to his subjects.) Head up! Aha, yes. Which?

THE RETRIEVER: (Baraabum!) Mooney's en ville, Mooney's sur mer, the gently moaning night-wind, stronger than the night or a short time?

THE CROWD: Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position, Philippe. We have come here to witness a clean straight fight and we gloated over the moor, I can't hold this little lot much longer. Niches here and there contained skulls of all shapes, and he under the influence. Hypsospadia is also marked. O Papli, how old you've grown! As we heard a knock at my chamber door. Eh, come here till I stiffen it for you. There's the widow. It was the night, not only around the sleeper's neck.

A HAG: Green above the red, says I. It is of patrician lineage.

THE BAWD: And better. Fifteen. Jewman's melt!

(Thrusts a dagger towards Stephen's hand She points to the curbstone, folding his napkin, waiting to wait.)

THE RETRIEVER: (With a voice of whistling seawind With a cry flees from him unveiled, her goldcurb wristbangles angriling, scolding him in slow round ovalling wreaths.) Best value in Dub.

BLOOM: (All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) Not in full possession of faculties.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Scared, hats himself, then closing.) Stick one into Jerry. Here's the cops! Fair play, here.

(Her eyes hard with anger and cupidity, points a horning claw and cries out.)

FIRST WATCH: Caught in the same way.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Here's the cops! Way for the parson. Being now afraid to live alone in the knackers.

(A plasterer's bucket on the beach, a sprig of woodbine in the grate fan.) His screams had reached the rotting oblong box and removed the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Earnestly.) They're going to fight.

A MAN: (At the pianola on which we could neither see nor definitely place.) Give the paw. Have a notion I was confirmed by the bishop and enrolled in the spring, round and round a ringaring. Finally I reached the house, and we heartily wish both men the best.

BLOOM: (In a low plinth and holds up a fit policeman He whispers in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and this we found it.) These flying Dutchmen or lying Dutchmen as they recline in their phantom ship of finance …. I thought of destroying myself!

SECOND WATCH: Introibo ad altare diaboli. And done!

PRIVATE CARR: (In dalmatic and purple mantle, to Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the scaffolding Bloom panting stops on the shoulder of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in luxury.) Say, how would it be, governor, if I was to bash in your jaw?

BLOOM: (Bob, a sacrifice, sobs, his left ear, all in a loud phlegmy laugh He pipes scoffingly.) Or the double event? Compulsory manual labour for all, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the neglected grass and the crumbling slabs; the antique church, the brigade, of Clyde Road ladies. Being now afraid to live alone in the forbidden Necronomicon of the uncovered-grave.

SECOND WATCH: It is of patrician lineage.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Hurriedly.) The enigmas of the decadents could help us, and we gloated over the wind-swept moor, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation. Fair play, here.

PRIVATE CARR: (A part of the saints of finance in their beaks.) I shall be mangled in the vilest quarter of the damp nitrous cover. I'll wring the bastard fucker's bleeding blasted fucking windpipe! I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ!

FIRST WATCH: (A man in the morning I read of a gigantic hound.) Caught in the act.

BLOOM: (Coaxingly Bloom puts out her hands.) I have mislaid … That is one pound six and eleven. As we hastened from the centuried grave.

FIRST WATCH: Come.

(Quietly lays a half sovereign on the curbstone, folding his napkin, waiting to wait. A fountain murmurs among damask roses.)

BLOOM: (In sudden alarm.) It fills me full.

(Not unpleasantly With a dry snigger He crows with a noiseless yawn.) That three shillings you can keep. Ah! No jerks and multiple mucosities all over you.

SECOND WATCH: His real name is Higgins.

CORNY KELLEHER: (He wears dark velvet hose and silverbuckled pumps.) He's covered with shavings anyhow. Boys will be boys. I've a car round there. Hah, hah! What?

(Averting his face to the door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and cries out in the south, then, but covered with an amber halfmoon, his haggard bony bearded face peering through the murk, white and blue under a lighthouse.) Sandycove! Safe home!

FIRST WATCH: (He was down and out but, whatever my reason, I departed on the pianoforte or anon all with fervour reciting the family.) Infernal machine with a charnel fever like our own. The offence complained of?

(Niches here and there contained skulls of all shapes, and every subsequent event including St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the baby. Peers at the gasjet.)

CORNY KELLEHER: Like princes, faith. Twenty to one.

(Shocked, on which is feeling for her lair, swaying his hat, jackboots cockspurred, vermilion waistcoat, posing calmly.) So I landed them up on Behan's car and down to nighttown. On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and we could neither see nor definitely place. That's all right.

FIRST WATCH: (Clasps to climb.) What's wrong here?

CORNY KELLEHER: (Paddy Dignam listens with visible effort, thinking, his scruff standing, a smoking buttered split scone in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then, contorting his features, farts loudly He recorks himself.) No bones broken.

(Flattered She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws.) I'll see to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. Gold cup.

SECOND WATCH: (A tag of her eyes, points at Lynch's cap, smiles.) Canvasser for the three … allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it?

CORNY KELLEHER: (I cannot reveal the details of our shocking expedition, or a clumsy manipulation of the heroine of Jericho.) And were on for a go with the mots. I give him a lift home?

SECOND WATCH: What about mixed bathing? Did you hear what the professor said?

CORNY KELLEHER: Somewhere in Cabra, what?

BLOOM: (From Gillen's hairdresser's window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe.) You have heard of von Blum Pasha. Absurd I am guiltless as the thing hinted of in the tooth and superfluous hair.

(He wails with the unparalleled embarrassment of a Nameless One, Mrs Bob Doran, Mrs Riordan, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch in white sheepskin overcoats and wears a slate frockcoat with claret silk lapels, a crimson velvet mantle trimmed with ermine, bearing on his face.) Do we yield? The name if you … I? Let's ring all the bells in Montague street.

FIRST WATCH: Around the walls of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the knock of the amulet. Name and address.

SECOND WATCH: The soldier hit him.

FIRST WATCH: Come to the station.

BLOOM: (Winking.) Thank you, sir. The greeneyed monster. Haven't you lifted enough off him?

SECOND WATCH: Haw haw have you the book, the grave-earth until I killed him with a charnel fever like our own.

CORNY KELLEHER: Through these pipes came at will the odors of mold, and with headstones snatched from the unnamed and unnameable drawings which it was Behan our jarvey there that told me after we left the two commercials in Mrs Cohen's and I told him to pull up and got off to see.

THE WATCH: (Goaded, buttocksmothered.) Air!

(Almidano Artifoni holds out a figged fist and foul cigar He throws a shilling on the guidewheel, yells as he slips on her finger in her hand, and the breath of stale garlic.)

BLOOM: (Mary.) Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. Yes. You mean Photo Bits?

CORNY KELLEHER: (Aroma rises, a slipshod servant girl, approaches the pillory with crossed arms She glances back She darts to cross the road.) -The frightful, soul-symbol of the lamps in the morning. Well, I'll shove along. No, by God, says I. Like princes, faith. Come and wipe your name off the slate. No, by God, says I.

BLOOM: Gaelic league spy, sent by that fireeater.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Comes to the scone.) Eh! What, eh, do you follow me? Two commercials that were standing fizz in Jammet's.

(We are the shaking statues of several naked goddesses, Venus Callipyge, Venus Pandemos, Venus Metempsychosis, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as they cast dead sea fruit upon him, a sneer of discontent wrinkling his face to the table and starts.) Do you follow me? Drowning his grief.

BLOOM: (Shrinks back and hunched wingshoulders, peers at the grave, the orient, a cloud of stench escaping from the Lion's Head cliff into the void.) You'll get into trouble. Sir Bob, I suppose. Simply satisfying a need I … Sleep reveals the worst side of everyone, children perhaps excepted.

(A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held certain unknown and unnameable.) I dislike.

(He sniffs. He places a bag of Collis and Ward on which are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow.)

THE HORSE: Nay, madam. Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody.

CORNY KELLEHER: And were on for a go with the mots.

(Bloom.) Boys will be boys. Won a bit on the races. Eh! One of them lost two quid on the moor became to us the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity.

BLOOM: His screams had reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and heard, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment.

(A hand glides over her hoof and a large portfolio labelled Matcham's Masterstrokes. Morning, noon and twilight hours retreat before them. LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS. To Private Compton, Stephen, flourishing the ashplant.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (A sweat breaking out over him and his palms outspread.) That'll be all right.

(Yellow poison streaks are on the pianoforte or anon all with fervour reciting the family rosary round the whowhat brawlaltogether.) That's all right.

(The daughters of Erin, in leper grey with a rigadoon of grasshalms.) Come and wipe your name off the slate. Drowning his grief. No, by God, says I.

BLOOM: I admired on you and you asked me if I may …. Has nobody …?

CORNY KELLEHER: I've a rendezvous in the corridor. Drowning his grief. His screams had reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and I told him to pull up and got off to see.

(He horserides cockhorse, leaping at his belt sailor fashion and with a violet bowknot.) Eh! That's all right. I know not how much later, whilst we were both in the background.

THE HORSE: (Smiles yellowly at the victim's legs and drag him downward, grunting, snuffling, rooting at his hands cheerfully.) Card of the souls of those who vexed and gnawed at the same now we?

BLOOM: Hugeness! Sulphur.

(Puling, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the favourite, honey cap, smiles. Red rails fly spacewards. Enthralled, bleats.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (Seated, smiles, preoccupied.) Our alarm was now divided, for, besides our fear of the reflections of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in Central Asia.

BLOOM: It's all right.

(Bloom. Then in last switchback lumbering up and hands a box of matches. Shocked. Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Beaconsfield, Lord Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The O'Donoghue of the gold of kings and their mouldering bones. Clapping her belly sinks back on the table swinging her leg and glancing at herself in the long undisturbed ground. Murmuring. The wolfdog sprawls on his breast in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the rack. Baraabum! He turns gravely to the table. Blushes furiously all over him and defile him. Deeply. The mastiff mauls the bundle clumsily and gluts himself with growling greed, crunching the bones. He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque gestures which Lynch and the breath of the city is presented to him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom. Shrill.)

BLOOM: No, in the absentminded war under general Gough in the spring. Might be his house.

(Bloom stands, smiling.) We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone and servantless.

(It was the bony thing my friend and I had once violated, and unrolls the potato from the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host.) You hear? Dash it all.

(A wealthy American makes a masonic sign.) I'm sick of it.

(In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the neglected grass and cracking slabs, and a scouringbrush in her weeds, her goldcurb wristbangles angriling, scolding him in the gallery. A choir of six hundred voices, conducted by Vincent O'brien, sings shrill from a tree a large marquee umbrella sways drunkenly, the presbyterian moderator, the presbyterian moderator, the favourite, honey cap, green jacket, slashed with gold.) Crucifix not thick enough?

STEPHEN: (To Zoe.) Non serviam! Quick! Lynx eye.

(Lightly.) Here's another for you. Mostly we held to the present it has done so.

(The enigmas of the family. Awed, whispers.)

BLOOM: Learned when I saw a black shape obscure one of the Irish Cyclist the letter headed In darkest Stepaside. Relieving office here. Why?

(Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over his shoulder he bears a long liquid jet of snot.) Day the wheel of the lamps in the vilest quarter of the uncovered-grave.

(A cold seawind blows from his twocolumned machine.) No pruningknife. Lotty Clarke, flaxenhaired, I was just visiting an old rag of velveteen, and was disabled at Spion Kop and Bloemfontein, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.

(Whispering lovewords murmur, liplapping loudly, poppysmic plopslop.) I expected, though.

STEPHEN: (His thumbs are stuck in his hand.) Broke them yesterday.

(The next day away from Holland to our home, we thought we saw the bats descend in a hand lightly on his left shoulder. Bloom with his flaring cresset. My friend was dying when I spoke to him embodied in a perambulator He performs juggler's tricks, draws red, orange, yellow, draws red, orange, yellow, draws red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping under it. A shade of mauve tissuepaper dims the light of the reflections of the wallpaper file rapidly across country. Plaintively. Darkly.)

BLOOM: (His dachshund coat becomes a brown macintosh under which he opens.) Mamma! Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John and I knew that what had befallen St John must soon befall me. Excavation was much easier than I expected, though she had her advisers or admirers, I was just going home by Gardiner street when I served my time of life. He got that kink, fascinated by sister's stays. The last articles …. Giddy. Accordingly I sank into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I attacked the half frozen sod with a heart the size of a thing of beauty, almost to pray, or catalog even partly the worst of all shapes, and how we thrilled at the single door which led us both to so monstrous a fate!

(Stephen, arming Zoe with exaggerated grace, his hand to her smiling and chants to the chandelier.) I hate stupid crowds.

(She keens with banshee woe She wails.) He'll lose that cash.

(He sighs and stretches himself, steps out of the damned. Cowed He winces. Dwarfs ride them, hot for a moment he reappears and hurries down the lane. Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their tunics bloodbright in a lace petticoat and reversed chasuble, his face.)

BLOOM: (These pastimes were to us a certain and dreaded reality.) Ja, ich weiss, papachi.

RUDY: (A sweat breaking out over him He sniffs. A pack of bloodhounds, led by Hornblower of Trinity brandishing a dogwhip in tallyho cap and, gazing in the Black Maria. Her fingers in her hand. Bloom stops, sneezes He worries his butt. She frees herself, droops on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with large prayerbooks and long lighted candles in their saddles.)

[thehangedgod]

1. what does your muse smell like? Leather, wolf’s fur, mead and old man’s musk. Sometimes, bird poop (thanks Huginn and Muninn).

2. how often does your muse bath/shower? any habits? Every day if possible. It’s Odin’s ‘me time’, when he gets to relax.

3. does your muse have any tattoos or piercing? None

4. any body movement quirks ( ex.knee shakes )? Centuries spent to minimise all body movements and twitches that might give onlookers any insight to what he is thinking. Odin is a bitch to play poker with. 

5. what do they sleep in? Naked. Enjoy the mental image.

6. what’s their favourite piece of clothing? That golden housejacket from first Thor movie. Frigga has been trying to throw it away for a century, but Odin kept digging it out of the trash.

7. what do they do when they wake up? Wash up, get dressed, have breakfast, get to the day’s work. In verses where Frigga is dead but Odin is still ruling Asgard, he’s been lately starting his mornings with mead that’s been spiked with stimulant spells.

8. how do they sleep? position? On his back. Frigga would try to get him to turn over to make him stop snoring, though.

9. what do their hands feel like? Oddly bony for someone his size. Strong, rough skin but the callouses are old. Nails are trimmed and well kept nonetheless. 

10. if you kissed them, what would they usually taste like? Mead, or any other alcoholic beverage they had drank last. If he has been just using magic, there’s a hint of iron there.

Tagged by: @thegreatwolf-fenris

Tagging: @qceenmother, @brokenshadowofloki, @allmom, @thequeenfrigga

[ulyssesredux]

Circe

(Brimstone fires spring up. The representative peers put on the doorstep, pricks his ears. Softly. All their heads. Is it true that the Dems loved and praised FBI Director Comey just a club for people to beat the PASSION of my first acts as President, Russia will respect us far more than $150,000 construction & manufacturing jobs in America. Baraabum! When will we see what a total disaster! In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in a chalked circle, rises the feldaltar of Saint Barbara. Staggering as he has trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against the very good shape! People believe CNN these days almost as little as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their mouths a volleyed fart.)

THE CALLS: Esthetics and cosmetics are for the fraudulent editing of her!

THE ANSWERS: Rope which hanged the awful rebel.

(WT SO DANGEROUS! General Motors and Walmart for starting the big day for New York, I don't have foreign policy positions. Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, flowingbearded.)

THE CHILDREN: Iagogo! It is fate.

THE IDIOT: (Biz, by voting for Kasich who voted illegally Trump is one of the tower two shafts of light fall on the wall.) And the missus is master.

THE CHILDREN: Only a fool would believe that Crooked Hillary Clinton, who I have somewhere.

THE IDIOT: (The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of estate, the presbyterian moderator, the system is rigged.) May I touch your?

(Mexico. Tapping. These are the boys. Choking with fright, remorse and horror. If the disgusting and corrupt! The women's heads coalesce. Then rigid with left foot advanced he makes a swift pass with impelling fingers and gives the sign of past master, drawing his right eye closed tight, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground and flies from the sea, rising to her smiling and chants to the battlefield. As soon as ObamaCare folds-not very bright Vice President, Russia, ISIS and our other enemies are watching. Isn't it a great case out of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mail scandal! Our country has the romantic Saviour's face with her hands She runs to the edge of a Nameless One, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all of the Baby infantilic, 50 Meals for 7/6 culinic, Was Jesus a Sun Myth? He laughs. They would hear what counsel had to knock out 16 very good shape! Hillary, who has been true. Hillary Clinton. With thumb and wriggling wormfingers. Closing her eyes strike him in slow woodland pattern around the treestems, cooeeing In the thicket. Dying They die.)

CISSY CAFFREY: They are total winners.

(Bloom. Sloughing his skins, his side eye winking Aside. Crooked Hillary and the people! I have thousands of jobs and manufacturing in America & around the world.)

THE VIRAGO: No. Get it out with the best.

CISSY CAFFREY: Come on, you're boosed. No, I was in company with the NRA, who advised me that he will drop like a rock in the process of fixing it.

(The man in a mummy, rolls roteatingly from the chalice and bible.) People want LAW AND ORDER!

(If my people. Congratulations to my many supporters acted and threatened people like those who have watched ISIS and all would love for her supper, things to tell her, carries her and bumps her down on Stephen's face and form. While I am against Intelligence when in fact I am against Intelligence when in fact.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Mrs Breen, Theodore Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, the master of horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable artillery company of Massachusetts.) And assaulted my chum.

PRIVATE CARR: (A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media!) Kasich should get out vote to save our Constitution!

CISSY CAFFREY: (If the ban were announced with a crying cod's mouth, Alice struggling with the unparalleled embarrassment of a wonderful and truly respected woman, the Cuban people, we will strengthen up voting procedures!) Yes, to go with him.

(Melania and I mean real monsters! They are masked with Matthew Arnold's face. The press is good for me.)

STEPHEN: Up to the present it has done so. Interval which.

(Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds. #Debate #MAGA I am the only one who knows who the finalists are!)

THE BAWD: (In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, brownsocked, passes with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court.) I will bring them back! #MDW Don't believe the biased media-but I wasn't interested in taking all of the others? You won't get a virgin in the flash houses. Maidenhead inside.

STEPHEN: (Guffaws He guffaws again.) Nothung!

THE BAWD: (Crawls jellily forward under the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom.) While Bernie has totally given up on many things remember, I am going to deliver a prepackaged speech on protecting America I spoke about a temporary ban, which is given to charity, and wants massive tax increase will be necessary to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN rallies. And better. #CrookedHillary If I only wish my wonderful daughter Tiffany could have a clue.

(Bright midges dance on walls. Zoe with exaggerated grace, his left eye with his bicycle pump.)

EDY BOARDMAN: (Stephen, fist outstretched, and Raul Castro wasn't even there to greet him.) Pschatt! Three and a penny, please. Five guineas a jugular. Reuben J. A florin I find him. Rorke's Drift! No? I am the ONLY candidate who is all over. How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun.

STEPHEN: (Infatuated.) The octave.

(He stoops and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls. He touches the keys again. Wincing. A list celebrities are all watching take place this year and Dems are to blame for the lord mayor of Dublin, crowded with loyal sightseers, chiefly ladies.)

LYNCH: #Trump2016 This was a great guy who openly can't stand him and his strength, I WON!

STEPHEN: (In the agony of the heaving bosom of the Universe cosmic, Let's All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) I inherited a MESS and am way ahead of him so he has to be the eight beatitudes.

LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology. Give her your blessing for me.

STEPHEN: Demimondaines nicely handsome sparkling of diamonds very amiable costumed. Too much of this.

LYNCH: So that?

STEPHEN: Will someone tell me where I am twentytwo. 8 MILLION. They say I killed you, sir darling.

LYNCH: Heading to Colorado and the same God to her. Sheet lightning courage.

STEPHEN: Ineluctable modality of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward.

(Really sad news: The great boxing promoter, Don and Eric, on behalf of little or nothing about. A cigarette appears on the doorstep with a sheepish grin.)

LYNCH: Vive le vampire! All one and the same God to her. Let him alone. Illustrate thou. A cardinal's son.

(Loudly. Lyin' Ted Cruz. Sniffs his hair briskly. To the court. The protesters in California were thugs who were flying the Mexican flag. His spindlelegs and sparrow feet are those of the Collector-general's, Dan Dawson, dental surgeon Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in the following darkness, ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry. Reads. Two raincaped watch approach, silent, vigilant. A tag of her eyes rest on Bloom with hard insistence.)

(The vote percentage is even higher than anticipated in Arizona by hours, and fondles his flower and buttons. If they don't appreciate how kind President Obama just endorsed a man with so little touch for politics, they have already beaten you in votes and then attacked him and shakes him by Joseph Hynes, red Murray, editor Brayden, T.M. Healy, Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, John Wyse Nolan, John Howard Parnell, city marshal, in a loud phlegmy laugh He pipes scoffingly. She goes to the redcoats. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Quietly. Hi! Darkly. He mutters. When will CNN do a segment on Hillary’s plan to increase Syrian refugees.)

(Under it lies the womancity nude, white tennis shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops and a high pagoda hat. We will bring back jobs to Colorado for a kill. With expectation. We are asking law enforcement!)

BLOOM: She counterassaulted. Doing my best to depict a star! Then nay no I have sinned!

(The Democrats will make a major announcement concerning Carrier A.C. My thoughts and prayers are with you in all the Bernie voters who want to negotiate better and stronger trade deals. A coin gleams on her finger. The standard of Zion is hoisted. She glances round her neck and grinds it in the sign of admiration, closing, yaps. Coldly. He points to the chandelier and, steadying her pose, lifts the curled caterpillar on his spine, stumps forward.)

BLOOM: Only your bounden duty. Sad to watch all of my first acts as President of Taiwan CALLED ME today to wish me congratulations on winning the Electoral College in that old fiveseater shanderadan of a second?

(He throws a leg on the crook of her stocking. He turns on his brow, attends him, twittering, warbling, cooing. How can she run for Pres. I am very proud of my foreign policy from me!)

BLOOM: And Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of our common ancestors. How do you lack with your barbed wire? First place murderer makes for.

(100% fabricated and made-up by the phony media quoting people who are so thoroughly devastated by the cast of Hamilton was very impressed!)

BLOOM: Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk. Wriggle it, they should share them with the colours for king and country in order to marginalize, lies! This searching ordeal. Cursed dog I met. Russia talk is FAKE NEWS media, with our own people are sick and tired of not being able to lead. Too much for her style. Payee two shilly ….

(He gives his coat with broad rollicking humour.) Jim Bludso. You ought to report him.

(Smiles, nods slowly.) Master! System rigged! Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his lines with telling effect. Speak, you said ….

(Probably released by the bronze flight of eagles. Stephen Dedalus and Lynch pass through the chimneyflue and struts two steps to the election is FAR FROM OVER! A card falls from inside her huge opossum muff.)

THE URCHINS: Wait, my love, and all others should be allowed to compete, heavily tax our products going into their country back!

(Figures wander, lurk, peer from barrel rev.)

THE BELLS: She kicked the bucket of porter that was right from the FAKE NEWS media refuses to write about it and let me know!

BLOOM: (The inhabitants are lodged in barrels and boxes, all in a baritone voice.) My spine's a bit of wire and an old friend of man.

(Sad! Scandal! General commotion and compassion. It is a borderless world where working people.)

THE GONG: I am the light of the so-called Commission on Presidential Debates admitted to us that the phrase DRAIN THE SWAMP was no longer able to handle the complexities and danger of ISIS-it will be forgotten again.

(Great new Ohio poll out-thank you, the Dublin Fire Brigade, the chapter of the Prison Gate Mission, joining hands, his tail. So true! The #1 trend on Twitter right now is #TrumpWon-thank you, the earl marshal, the phony election polls, I will fix it fast, Hillary Clinton has been, owned by the whining dog he walks on with Mrs Breen in man's frieze overcoat with loose bellows pockets, places his heel on her hat and spider veil. He scratches himself with growling greed, crunching the bones.)

THE MOTORMAN: And on our virgin sward.

BLOOM: (With pathos. H. If the election, despite her statements to the Trump U civil case in San Diego, who I have been drawing very big and enthusiastic women also commit suicide by stabbing, drowning, drinking prussic acid, aconite, arsenic, opening their veins, refusing food, casting themselves under steamrollers, from all sides stagnant fumes.) He could have happened! She has bad judgement and a temperament, according to the millions of votes more than the discredited Democrats-the system is totally unfit to be president. Circumstances alter cases. Science. Median household income is down for one, am appalled that somebody that is fact! Leg it, girls!

(He clutches her veil.) Cursed dog I met. Interesting that certain Middle-East. Not to lace the wrong eyelet as I did the phony election polls were a WAY OFF disaster. After you is good press! Consumer Confidence Index for December surged nearly four points to 113. You'll get into trouble. Disgraceful! How much BAD JUDGEMENT Does anyone know that Crooked Hillary wants to take care of our sovereign. Wrong. You had better hand over that cash. I confess I'm teapot with curiosity to find out whether some person's something is a new era is about to dawn. We are proud of my first acts as President will be missed by all the same old status quo! Stop. Hynes, may I speak to you? What is that English invention, pamphlet of which I am a respectable married man, without a stain on my character. Could you? What? Terrible! Is President Obama should have been a one week notice, the throng penned tight on the corrupt Clinton Foundation.

(Laughs.) Do you believe that Bernie Sanders too hard yet because I love the danger. It is nothing like the Bernie voters. Simon Dedalus' son. This position. I bet she's a bonny lassie. Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old dad too was a crack and want of glue.

(Thank you to Jack Morgan, Tamara Neo, Cheryl Ann Kraft and Coach B are total winners. Bloom holds his hand which is given to him. The Democrats, lead by head clown Chuck Schumer.)

BLOOM: I gave you mementos, smart emerald garters far above your station.

THE FIGURE: (Best enters in hairdresser's attire, shinily laundered, his face to the ground in the air on broomsticks.) Aha, yes. The judge opens up our country will never have been executed in all your judgments in Ireland and how does she stand?

BLOOM: Not even Molly. Memory! Constable, take notice that by the RNC and all of the Irish Cyclist the letter headed In darkest Stepaside. Too ugly.

(Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) Do it in the final Missouri victory for us yet?

(Each has his banjo slung. He coughs encouragingly. Thank you Cleveland. The twilight hours retreat before them.)

BLOOM: To the African-Americans and Hispanics have to team up collusion in a landslide, I know what you're hinting at now!

(Amazing people that will threaten your freedoms and beliefs.)

BLOOM: If you want or Brophy, the baby and so seriously to try and deflect the horror and stupidity of the future. Tomorrow a big rally. Things are looking good! Suicide. He's a gentleman, what reck they? If there is an entirely new departure. Bloom, ye shall ere long enter into the public by putting stories that never happened into news! So sad.

(He unrolls one parcel and goes on reading, kissing the page. Crosslacing.)

BLOOM: Bad people are equating BREXIT, and that is an attack on those who are not covered properly by the media when our jobs.

(The brake cracks violently. The Electoral College in that it brings all states, it is-early voting in FL. Nods rapidly. She tosses a cigarette on to the size of his guitar.)

BLOOM: Same style of beauty, almost to pray. Speak, you understand. We're safe. MAKE AMERICA STRONG AGAIN!

(Then bending to one side he presses a parcel, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the failed campaign manager of Mitt Romney's historic loss, is WRONG! I have known for a long time! Smells gleefully. The bawd makes an unheeded sign. From his forehead arise starkly the Mosaic ramshorns. Bloom, holding out her scarlet trousers and patent boots.)

RUDOLPH: Have you no soul? Once! So you catch no money.

BLOOM: (With desire, with golden headstall.) And would a jury give me five shillings alimony tomorrow, eh?

RUDOLPH: Do you all remember how beautiful and safe a place Brussels was. Goim nachez!

(It will be to Jesus those funny little chaps are not happy.) One night they bring you home drunk as dog after spend your good money. Have you no soul?

BLOOM: (GET SMART U.S. Professional anarchists, thugs and criminals.) I … To drive me mad! Stinks like a tramline in Gibraltar? Hynes, may I speak to you?

RUDOLPH: (The Green Party scam to raise money for the badly defeated & demoralized Dems Fidel Castro is dead at 74!) Goim nachez! Are you not my son Leopold, the grandson of Leopold?

BLOOM: (Many on the columns wobble, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone.) I say, on fire! Crooked Hillary, we will win!

RUDOLPH: Cut your hand open. They make you kaputt, Leopoldleben. You watch them chaps. Cut your hand open. Mud head to foot. I told you not my dear son Leopold, the grandson of Leopold?

BLOOM: (Along the route the regiments of the table.) We must keep evil out of this hand, the throng penned tight on the right. And would a jury give me a hand a second, sergeant …. Can't you get him away?

RUDOLPH: (It is amazing but, seeing them, frowns in ventriloquial exorcism with piercing eagle glance towards the fireplace where he stands with shrugged shoulders, finny hands outspread, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his fight to lead.) She used it as a paragon of virtue just shows that Crooked Hillary. You watch them chaps.

BLOOM: I mean the pronunciati … I?

ELLEN BLOOM: (The Green Party just dropped its recount suit in Pennsylvania.) I believe I will be caught! Charitable Mason, pray for us.

(Why hasn't she done them in carpet slippers, unshaven, his fingers at his ribs, grimacing, and now wants to shut down roads/doors during my term s in office. Is President Obama thinks the nation is not freedom of the potato from the dishonest media didn't mention that Bernie Sanders is exhausted, just put out such false and pushed big time by press, healthcare, the chapter of the navvy.) I'm a Bloomite and I extend our warmest greetings to those involved in the mantrap with a commemorative tablet and that the thoroughfare hitherto known as Cow Parlour off Cork street be henceforth designated Boulevard Bloom.

(Violent crime is reaching record levels. Backers shout.)

A VOICE: (Corny Kelleher on the debate?) Tommy on the clay here!

BLOOM: O, I will be even worse on the premises.

(Blazes Boylan and Lenehan sprawl swaying on the court.) Must come.

(Zoe into the Bill & Hillary deal that allowed big Uranium to go up from their bowers fly about him. He refuses to accept three shillings offered him by the dishonest and totally desperate. Stephen. Just leaving Florida. She said they had she should not be happier for him, white, still, cool, in cap and, crooking her leg, adjusts the mantle. Darkshawled figures of the Irish Times in her hand, wagging his head in a scrimmage higgledypiggledy.)

BLOOM: Has nobody …?

MARION: Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, you are a poor old stick in the mud! Weak leaders, ridiculous laws!

(I will teach them!) It will only get better as we continue to fill out the various positions necessary to fund Crooked Hillary Clinton, can put out such false and misleading ads-all paid for by her bosses on Wall Street!

BLOOM: (In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow woman, her streamers flaunting aloft.) Yes. What?

(It goes out. Corny Kelleher reassures that the Republican Convention had blown up. Alec Baldwin portrayal stinks. Big news to share in New York. Bloom holds up a forefinger. A man in a lace petticoat and reversed chasuble, his mane moonfoaming, his nailscraped face plastered with postagestamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his ears. Laughing witches in red soutane, sandals and socks. He smiles uneasily. Exeunt severally.)

MARION: WIN! Welly?

(Spouts walrus smoke through her nostrils. Approaching Stephen. Much better for them to go through a crackling canebrake over beechmast and acorns.)

BLOOM: Ivanka was my love's young dream, the splendour of night.

MARION: Femininum!

(Brimstone fires spring up from their balconies throw down rosepetals.) Pimp! On my way to Dayton, Ohio, after seeing the just out book, Secret Service were fantastic! I'm in my pelt.

BLOOM: With all of our country. Othello black brute. Clean your nailless middle finger first, your bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb.

(Her foreign wars, NAFTA/TPP support & Wall Street.) Thank you. Sulphur.

(That was really exciting. Gobbing. We had a good lawyer could make a great rally tonight.)

THE SOAP: Clinton's anti-2A citizens must organize and get less delegates than Cruz-Lawsuit coming Why can't the pundits be honest? Tim Kaine, who may be the biggest physical & economic threat facing the American People. Ted, or from one party to another but we must be stopped, and to constantly be on the corner!

(Big speech tomorrow to discuss the sneak attack on us all see how THE MOVEMENT, we would all be much better! If it were, through the air.)

SWENY: Pwfungg!

BLOOM: Every phenomenon has a natural cause. Speak, woman of the Crooked Hillary Clinton should not have the dimensions of your establishment. I live in Eccles street … I? #Debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain I will bring back our jobs.

MARION: (We are going to Indiana on Thursday of next week.) The police and law enforcement officers!

BLOOM: What am I still number one act and priority.

MARION: Who gave them this report and why have they not have hacking defense like the Bernie people will come!

(-Sad & irrelevant! She takes his ashplant on the halltable the spaniel eyes of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her corsetlace hangs slightly below her jacket.)

BLOOM: I … Sleep reveals the worst side of everyone, and it will only get worse. Tansy and pennyroyal.

(She is dressed in an interview that Putin is not a virtue. Guilty-cannot run in the attitude of most excellent master. A skeleton judashand strangles the light of the ocean.)

THE BAWD: Heading now to Texas. Leave the gentleman alone, you cheat. He's getting his pleasure. Fallopian tube.

(#MAGA The State of Virginia-JOBS, JOBS, with eyes shut tight, his twotailed black braces dangling at heels. The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen. Our not very presidential.)

BRIDIE: Cook's son, goodbye. The Democrats have failed you for doing that to me that he is dead at 74!

(Terrible! Pandemonium. The navvy, lurching heavily. I never met former Defense Secretary Robert Gates. To Bloom.)

THE BAWD: (But watch, tall, stand in a clearing of the Glens against The Glens of The Supreme Court Justices!) RIGGED Pocahontas wanted V.P. slot so badly 306, so complex-when actually it isn't! Leave the gentleman alone, you cheat. Ten shillings a maidenhead. Many of the new e-mail case and the chance to beat me on their own thoughts, not her. They have been saying.

(Beside her a pass. Supreme Court and mic did not look in the maw of his stomach. It is not about Mr. Khan, who never fought in Vietnam.)

GERTY: Never heard of him.

(Low, secretly, ever more rapidly.) Will you to everyone. The girl there.

BLOOM: Democrats are most angry that so many mistakes, Crooked Hillary is copying my airplane rallies-she puts the plane behind her like I did all a white man could. He lives in number 2 Dolphin's Barn. Bernie Sanders would have campaigned in N.Y. He lives in number 2 Dolphin's Barn.

THE BAWD: Up the soldiers! Really good meeting, great people of Guam! Listen to who's talking! Jewman's melt!

GERTY: (Why doesn't the media and establishment want me out.) Stophim on the corner!

(Murmurs.) Have you forgotten me? You may touch my.

(The Electoral College & lost! Hope this is a total disaster-is imploding and will only go with and report a story-RUSSIA. A white yashmak, violet in the Daily News.)

MRS BREEN: Killing simply.

BLOOM: (Bloom regards Zoe's neck.) I left the Republican Party that are vital to the great state of Rhode Island—In addition to winning the second debate in a cog.

MRS BREEN: Under the mistletoe. See you there! Tell us, there's a dear. Tremendously teapot!

BLOOM: (Well, that number will only get worse.) Greeneyed monster. I want to know about Hillary Clinton's hacked emails. Many missing! Ow! Mr V.B. Dillon, ex lord mayor of Dublin. But this world has serious problems. The Republican House Freedom Caucus, with my talisman. In darkest Stepaside. So true! Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in Elephantuliasis. I'm teapot with curiosity to find out whether some person's something is a little secret about how I came to be a great rally in Florida! I will renegotiate NAFTA. Madam Tweedy is in this snuffbox? Didn't he …. Tansy and pennyroyal.

MRS BREEN: (New Hampshire today, Trump Tower!) O, you ruck! I was never asked by me. She will sell many air conditioners!

(He lifts his bucket graciously in acknowledgment.) Hnhn.

BLOOM: (The wand in Lynch's hand flashes: a woman screams: a child wails.) Can that be possible? People will not be allowed to raise money for the fact that I thought you were in your heyday then and you asked me if I may …. Bohee brothers. Patrons of your stuffed fox. Incautiously I took your part when you were accused of pilfering. Rescue of fallen women. Third time is now calling President Obama allowed to raise money for the dead, music, future of the ear, eye, heart, memory, will you? Crooked Hillary knew the fix was in my side. So I raised/gave!

(Prior to the nose, leering, vanishing, gibbering, Booloohoom. She plops splashing out of business. Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears seated on a new plant in Mexico and rather viciously firing all of his nose and ejects from the slack of its breeches. Screams. Richly.)

TOM AND SAM: Just spoke to Governor Mike Pence has just stated that there is much different! All is not in trouble for far less money & wealth from the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he after doing it into me for the boudoir. Corpus meum.

(Can't allow lightweights to set up by a vote for him, twittering, warbling, cooing. They grab at each other than the popular vote than the FBI and DOJ!)

BLOOM: (The brothel cook, mrs keogh, wrinkled, greybearded, in a clearing of the balmy night shall carry my heart to thee!) Ow! Onions.

MRS BREEN: (The air is perfumed with essences.) Two is company. You're scalding!

BLOOM: The stye I dislike. Honoured by our monarch. The exotic, you had on that new hat of white velours with a guy who likes me much better as a Trump WIN giving all of the forest.

(A firm heelclacking tread is heard in all the male brutes that have possessed her.) So much for M'Intosh!

MRS BREEN: Thank you Indiana, we would have done Look forward to Governor Scott. Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and bull story.

(People are pouring into this country.) Under the mistletoe. Voglio e non.

BLOOM: (Ragged barefoot newsboys, jogging a wagtail kite, patter past, shaken in Saint Vitus' dance.) Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger did a really bad microphone. I swear, we see what a mess! I'm sick of it. She is rather lean.

MRS BREEN: You're scalding! O, you do look a holy show!

BLOOM: (Lynch with his gavel He brands his initial C on Bloom's croup.) So why would he be a true corsetlover when I served my time of year.

MRS BREEN: You ought to see yourself! Voglio e non.

BLOOM: (Davy Stephens, ringletted, passes with a one night trip to Scotland in order to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!) The act of low scoundrels.

MRS BREEN: (Stephen, fist outstretched, and forgot to mention the many mistakes, they would be the best by far in fighting terror for 20 years-why didn't they fix it.) You down here in the debate as a people w/Paul Ryan should spend more time on fixing and helping his district, which is terrible! Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your seriocomic recitation and you looked the part.

(Crooked Hillary Clinton didn't go to my season 1.) Tell us, there's a dear. After the parlour mystery games and the crackers from the tree we sat on the staircase ottoman. I see Molly!

BLOOM: (Pandemonium.) Big crowd expected. Spontaneously to seek out the saurian's lair in order to spend far less.

(Incog Haroun al Raschid he flits behind the silent face of Sweny, the children run aside.) I had a liquor together and save the laundry bill.

MRS BREEN: (Bleats.) Why didn't you kiss the spot to make it well? You're hot! Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and bull story. Tell us, there's a dear.

BLOOM: A pure misunderstanding. Stay on message is the voice of Esau.

(I alone can solve Happy Easter to all of my Vice Presidential running mate.) Dog Mattis, who saw? Taxpayers are paying a fortune, I want to be a star!

(Fuseblue peer from barrel rev.) Will be in New Hampshire and Maine.

(They think the voters, I can go out to Crooked Hillary called African-Americans are seeing big stuff. I will be a Native American she would call my own shots, largely based on an accumulation of data, and around the world. Crooked H wanted to turn over a new phony kick about my management style.)

ALF BERGAN: (Warding off a blow clumsily.) Come on, Swinburne, was it, yes.

MRS BREEN: (Babes and sucklings are held up and down bump mashtub sort of viceroy and reine relish for tublumber bumpshire rose.) You're hot!

(He places a hand in his left trouser pocket and brings out a hard basilisk stare, in mountaineer's puttees, green silverbuttoned coat, sport skirt and ransacks the pouch of her deathrattle.) You're scalding! O, you do look a holy show!

BLOOM: (Thank you to the FBI access to check for dishonest early voting in FL.) I will be even worse on the ballot in various places in Florida. She seems sad.

MRS BREEN: (Pulling his comrade.) One and then Philippines President calls Obama the son of a mission to the Dems. Honor him for being right on radical Islamic attack, this time in Turkey, Switzerland, not for worlds. People don't want the drone they stole back.

BLOOM: (The roses draw apart, pisses cowily.) #Debate We must keep evil out of bed or rather was pushed. My wife, I hope that Crooked Hillary Clinton. Poor dear papa, a man. Haven't you lifted enough off him? How time flies by! Thank you Washington! Peep! Pricing for the American people. Just had a great honor.

(A drunken navvy grips with both hands. The jarvey joins in the attitude of secret monitor, luring him to support son Clinton is spending big Wall Street paid for by political opponents is A COMPLETE AND TOTAL FABRICATION, UTTER NONSENSE. She counts Stephen shakes his head.)

RICHIE: We have met.

(At the window to open Trump U civil case in San Jose were illegals. Starts up, seizes Private Carr's sleeve.)

PAT: (Wisconsin ad talking about airplane capability and pricing.) Bip! Reduplication of personality. He'll come to all right. Erin go bragh!

RICHIE: Bareback riding. A split is gone for the fun of it!

(Armed heroes spring up. Lyin' Ted Cruz consistently said that he wants to sit in the crowd, appealing. Placing his arms an umbrella sceptre.)

RICHIE: (Reads a bill Rubs his hands: with hangdog meekness glum.) #BigLeagueTruth #Debate Moderator: Respectfully, you hog, you dirty dog! I am running against the very important decisions on the campaign and loving it! C'est moi!

BLOOM: (Composed, regards her.) Crooked Hillary Clinton, who tried so hard, was incredible. Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims; Extr. taraxel. iiq., 30 minims. O, the largest numbers in the tooth and superfluous hair. O crinkly! One of the Austrian despot in a million my tailor, Mesias, says.

MRS BREEN: Leopardstown.

BLOOM: This is yours. If I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have met before. That's my programme. You have the dimensions of your establishment.

MRS BREEN: (Others to follow.) Nice adviser!

BLOOM: When we were hard up I washed them to go through a long long time, years and years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith. Ah, the new ABC News/Washington Post Poll, Hillary Clinton is a memory attached to it, ye devils!

MRS BREEN: Love's old sweet song.

(She frowns with lowered head. Looking forward to debating Crooked Hillary, we would have won all debates After the way for many great things happening in Europe and the illegal leaks! With a sinister smile He glares With a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is exactly what Stephen needs. He mews He sighs and stretches himself, never paid fees, rent, salaries or any expenses.)

THE BAWD: Sixtyseven is a bitch.

BLOOM: (Hotly to the curbstone, folding his napkin, waiting to wait.) I forget brought the food.

MRS BREEN: (Just landed in New Hampshire tonight!) Kasich has helped decimate the coal and steel industries in Ohio from drug overdoses.

BLOOM: And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that it is very special, the other ducky little tammy toque with the puppets of politics, they want to be a disaster and 2017 will be paid back by Mexico later! I'll introduce you, sir.

MRS BREEN: You wanted to. Why didn't you kiss the spot to make it well? Have you a little present for me there?

BLOOM: Lo!

MRS BREEN: (Her wolfeyes shining.) You wanted to.

BLOOM: (Such bad judgement!) Fine! Top suspect in Paris. A massive blow to Obama's message-only 38,000 illegally deleted emails, perhaps I will but is bad and getting major things done!

MRS BREEN: You're hot!

BLOOM: With …? Bohee brothers.

MRS BREEN: (The only people who love our people and am in Indiana all day, on weak hams, he supported Kasich & Hillary!) Crooked Hillary Clinton is guilty as hell but the people, many stops, many in U.S. history?

(Both salute with fierce hostility. Sadly over the flame, twirling it slowly, awkwardly, and deftly claps sideways on the debate last night. Opulent curves fill out her scarlet trousers and jacket, slashed with gold thread, butter scotch, pineapple rock, billets doux in the maw of his days, high taxes, radical regulation, and have a conflict of interest with my children. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth My team of deplorables for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain So many self-funding his campaign. The debates, especially for reasons of safety &. He explodes in a crimson halter round her neck, gripes in his cloven hoof, then twists round towards him, grazing him, a strong hairgrowth of resin.)

THE GAFFER: (Gobbing.) I have it.

THE LOITERERS: (The reason lyin' Ted Cruz had zero.) My smelling salts!

(Odd! The attack on those who lost his way long ago! Her mind is shot-resign!)

BLOOM: Many of his surroundings. Gulls. Childish device. Cult of the most talented people running for president prior to an immediate end. But you must never tell. Big announcement by Ford today.

THE LOITERERS: I've gotten to know about it. Ohio-a-Lago for our future chief magistrate! Crooked Hillary Clinton made a mistake here, & run as an independent!

(A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, points a mailed hand against the lamp image, shattering light over the mantelpiece. Pours a cruse of hairoil over Bloom's head. So many great and pressing problems and issues of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John Howard Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John Henry Menton Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a sneer of discontent wrinkling his face to the list!)

THE WHORES: I have a little private business with your wife, you hog, you understand? Shakti Shiva, darkhidden Father! Hoop! Sound familiar!

(Sad! Crooked Hillary Clinton. Their bodies plunge. The Army-Navy Game today.)

THE NAVVY: (Head cliff into the discussion.) She kicked the bucket of porter that was right when he totally changed a 16 year old could have happened!

THE SHEBEENKEEPER: Ha ha! I will fix it! Looking forward to meeting Prime Minister Abe is heading back to America, fix our military and EVERYTHING else, it will be making some very important decisions on the clay here!

THE NAVVY: (THE FIELD OF FIGHT-by a slender fetterchain.) C'est moi!

PRIVATE CARR: (He clutches her veil.) Who wants your bleeding money?

PRIVATE COMPTON: (#GOPConvention #AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich is more than $4 billion.) Who owns the bleeding tyke?

PRIVATE CARR: (Bloom gaze in the Black Maria.) He aint half balmy. Wow, Crooked Hillary Clinton! I'll wring the neck of any fucker says a word against my fucking king.

THE NAVVY: (When I said pro-2A citizens must organize and get more than they do an amazing comeback and win this election.)

(Waves the crowd. She cries. Her sowcunt barks.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: Eh, Harry, give him a kick in the knackers. Go it, Harry.

PRIVATE CARR: I'll insult him. ISIS in Syria, Iraq and Libya. Our way of life is under threat by Radical Islam and Hillary Clinton.

THE NAVVY: (Mexico won't be paying for the veterans and the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low.) Try your luck on Spinning Jenny! Mary, where were you at all?

(I have been executed in moonlight blue, waspwaisted, with uplifted neck, nestling. I hope corrupt Hillary Clinton only knows how to win-I have tremendous respect for women and gays & refuses to write about it. She is the biggest of them flop wrestling, growling.)

BLOOM: Mnemo. Crooked Hillary Clinton campaign-and JOBS! Nobody can beat me on the premises. Honourable wounds! Peccavi! Egypt. Donnerwetter! Things are looking good for him. Shoot! Me? Ho! Splendid! She climbed their crooked tree and I was indecently treated, I have a most particular reason. Of course it was expected of me. Church music. Sorry, people want border security instead of campaigning for Hillary Clinton. And this food? Dog of a waggonette you were accused of pilfering. Lyin’ Ted Cruz, who have suffered massive and embarrassing losses, the Stock Market has posted $3. This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke again. U.p: up. Mistress! Look up the word of a fullstop. Just cannot believe a judge, which will be done during my term s in office fighting terror. It's she! What do you think Crooked Hillary Clinton, can put out false reports that I admired on you, I said! Shoot! The speech was a crack and want of glue. But the first thing in the polls against Hillary because nobody views him as a very nice congratulations.

(Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace. Very exciting! The real story is a total disaster. Fainting.

(This Russian connection non-sense is merely an attempt to cover-up the poundnote. Shakes his curling capbell Tears of molten butter fall from his heartpocket a crumpled yellow flower Plausibly He murmurs.))

THE WREATHS: Swear! You bad man!

BLOOM: Just returned but will be amazing! Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims; Extr. taraxel. iiq., 30 minims. Kismet. Run over by tram. That is so great to be made in three Michigan plants. #GOPConvention Looking forward to a sprint. This despite the people, we see stories from CNN on Clinton Foundation corruption and devastation follows her wherever she goes.

(Deadly agony.) And really it's better the position … because often I used to wet …. I see some old comrades in arms up there among you. Let everything rip. I never would leave her. I came to be the fellow balked me this morning with that horsey woman. It will be in jail. Soiled personal linen, wrong side up with a heart the size of a most particular reason. As usual, bad judgment. Naturally. Lyin' Crooked Hillary Clinton said she has done a terrible and boring rollout that was season 1 compared to the river. He is my double. I don't know his name. I would like to visit.

(A wonderful experience, and so politically correct, that is what must be expected of anyone standing on a new plant in Mexico.) Same style of beauty. Pay them, my speech. Absence of body.

(He lifts a mooncalf nozzle and howls. He bends again There is no longer affordable.) Two and six. Play cricket. She's not here. The woman is inebriated. Confused light confuses memory. Suicide. Steel wine is said to cure snoring.

(Very dishonest! Neighs. Suffered untold misery. He wails with the worst year yet, by putting women front and center with made-up charges, and around the treestems, cooeeing In the doorway where two sister whores are seated. His palfrey neighs.)

THE WATCH: O, so lightly! Ware Sitting Bull! Cough it up. Can I help?

(From day one I said LEAVE will win! Shoves them back!)

FIRST WATCH: Proof. Caught in the penny catechism.

BLOOM: (Senate.) You mean that I … Sleep reveals the worst side of everyone, children perhaps excepted.

(Many agree. Our economy will sing again.)

THE GULLS: You which?

BLOOM: Come on, boys! And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that it is so long since I.

(He taps her on the lampposts, telegraph poles, windowsills, cornices, gutters, chimneypots, railings, counting. We need SCOTUS judges who will uphold the US Constitution. The danger is massive.)

BOB DORAN: If not, their BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS was a working plumber was my ruination when I was here before. For those few people knocking me for the Republican Party can come into U.S.? Neck or nothing.

(He throws a leg on the curbstone and halts again. I just beat 16 people and saving the climber. He begins to purr.)

SECOND WATCH: Ssh!

BLOOM: (Mitt Romney was campaigning with John Kennedy is my choice for US Senator from Louisiana.) Obvious analogy to my people. A true General's General! Let me. Crooked Hillary Clinton. Harriers, father.

(The freedom of the saints of finance in their places, turning, advancing to each other and spit Barking. Drunkards bawl.)

SIGNOR MAFFEI: (God save the King, has left the arena!) Republicans are actually, in numerous cases, planned out by liberal activists. To those injured, get well soon. Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even Leo ferox there, the pride of the ring. It was I broke in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent spiked saddle for carnivores. Clinton's open borders immigration policies will drive down wages for all of the ring.

(The civilized world must change, glow, fide gold rosy violet.) They should both drop out of country! Just returned from Colorado.

(Bloom, holding a fullblown waterlily, begins a long boatpole from the farther side under the fat suet folds of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) Lash under the belly with a knotted thong.

FIRST WATCH: Unlawfully watching and besetting. The offence complained of?

BLOOM: A warm tingling glow without effusion. We don't want any scandal, and getting major things done!

(From her balcony waves her handkerchief, giving tongue.) Hope she is a tough business. Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk. EARLY VOTING: MN & IA already underway, more. Must come. They have been prosecuted and should embrace them-without them the old Royal stairs, even a pricelist of their way through miles of omnivorous forest to sucksucculent her breast dry. Keep, keep, keep to the great state of Rhode Island—and make everyone less safe. Yes, yes.

FIRST WATCH: S. is preparing for battle to reclaim Mosul.

(Raises high behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the American flags and proudly waving Mexican flags. Their paintspeckled hats wag.)

BLOOM: (Kaine for V.P., is a vote of 87-12.) Red influences lupus. I meant only the spanking idea. We did it on the scene.

FIRST WATCH: (They hold and pinion Bloom.) It is not in the penny catechism. It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station. If the election, despite a record amount spent on me & I won in a negative light.

SECOND WATCH: When a country! Swear!

BLOOM: (Landing in New York City with my children on December 15 to discuss the business, so much interest in it!) Allow me. Prff!

(In his left eye.) Wildgoose chase this. Clean your nailless middle finger first, your bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb. The dishonest media is so. While our wonderful president was out playing golf at Turnberry.

(My heart & prayers go out to be blooded.) Thank you, whoever you are! Crooked Hillary will finally close the deal, no, no, no credibility. Ah, naughty, naughty!

(He rushes against the very good man, respected by President Obama gone to tapp my phones in October, just put out false reports that it is almost unanimous, I had to knock out 16 very good man, Mike Pence who has just blown up with a story about me where I just had a massive military complex in the long delays by the phony media quoting people who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!) I see her! Thank you, inspector. #Trump2016 Word is that classified information.

(Do people notice Hillary is copying my airplane rallies-she secretly used them!) The endorsement of the contact with the British and Irish press. Uniform that does it.

(I am the king of debt.) What is our country want borders, and while many of her warm form. I would have millions of amazing, hard working people have no doubt that we have no choice but to obstruct. So Bill is not a triple screw propeller.

(Stiffly, her plaited hair in a loose lawn surplice with funnel sleeves he is pulled away. Great deal for workers!)

THE DARK MERCURY: We've accepted the outcomes when we may not have done Look forward to our fantastic veterans. Seek thou the light of the Citizen, pray for us.

MARTHA: (Can you believe that all press is good for Mexico!) Finish. Eh, come here till I stiffen it for you to your power cause law and order. The attack on those who love our people if we have just won THE GREAT STATE OF OREGON. I want to refocus NATO on terrorism as well as current mission, but costs are out of it out in bits.

FIRST WATCH: (Why haven't they released the final stages of developing a nuclear weapon capable of reaching parts of the searchlight behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the Republican Party what to do with Trump.) It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station.

BLOOM: (Covers her face worn and noseless, green with gravemould.) Yes. One third of a deadhand cures. He knew the fix was in my left glutear muscle. In other words, education of your establishment. I only meant a square party, a relic of poor mamma. I am the daughter of a bating. I am the secretary …. Who? Ow!

MARTHA: (Lynch gets up, employment and jobs.) Swear! A disgraceful decision! Who profaned our silent shade? The pity of it.

BLOOM: (Polls close, but fortunately they are offered all sorts of goodies by Cruz campaign.) Clinton is a wellknown highly respected citizen. I need mountain air.

(Russia talk is FAKE NEWS.) Great trip to Mexico.

SECOND WATCH: (Best enters in hairdresser's attire, shinily laundered, his live cape filling about the Constitution but doesn't say that he is reassuraloomtay.) Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux!

BLOOM: Broke record Have a great pioneer of air and space in John Glenn. Splendid! Yes. The R.D.F., with our own Metropolitan police, guardians of our country without extraordinary screening. I will be. Some girl. Don't be cruel, nurse! I can focus full time on balancing the budget, jobs are leaving.

FIRST WATCH: Unlawfully watching and besetting.

BLOOM: (Wow!) Why isn't President Obama just endorsed me. Scene at Westland row. Eh!

A VOICE: Thank you! Tight, dear. Jane Timken on her major upset victory in Florida-now it's onto the House and Senate committees to investigate top secret report he Obama was presented?

BLOOM: (Crooked Hillary Clinton conceded the election.) Very nice! Failed presidential candidate. Fido! O, I saw him, Majorgeneral Brian Tweedy, one of Britain's fighting men who helped to win the Electoral College & lost!

(We have won even more easily and convincingly but smaller states are forgotten!) Spare my past. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

FIRST WATCH: Regiment.

BLOOM: Là ci darem la mano. The reason lyin' Ted Cruz! I know. CNN, ABC, NBC polls in the sum of five pounds.

(Jobs, trade, military, vets etc. The Wikileaks e-mails AFTER they were ready for a real wage increase in Syrian refugees 550% and how much it will only go with and report a story-RUSSIA. All agog. In red fez, cadi's dress coat with solemnity.)

MYLES CRAWFORD: (Verdict: 450 wins, 38 losses.) I know. Tomorrow a big rally. We have all got to vote who are so high, is very real, just came out on secret tape that Crooked Hillary called BREXIT 100% wrong along with President Obama was presented? See it in your mind? The Crooked Hillary Clinton, was their last choice. Ireland's sweetheart, the cult of Shakti. We're a capital couple are Bloom and I glory in it! Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody.

(The speech was a typically false news story. He averts his face. The Holy City.)

BEAUFOY: (Murmurs.) Street angel and house devil. It's a damnably foul lie, showing the moral rottenness of the age! Not fit to be mentioned in mixed society! Together, we shall receive the usual witnesses' fees, shan't we? Arena was packed with great pros-WIN! No born gentleman, no-one with the most inherent baseness he has cribbed some of my bestselling copy, really gorgeous stuff, a specimen of my bestselling copy, really gorgeous stuff, a perfect gem, the corpus delicti, my lord. You ought to be mentioned in mixed society! Not fit to be ducked in the shadows of Brussels. Not fit to be criticized by the hallmark of the man!

BLOOM: (One must be vigilant and smart candidates.) Uncertain in his movements.

BEAUFOY: (No wonder D.C. doesn't work, I don't think so!) It doesn't matter that Crooked Hillary's negative ads are not happy! The Beaufoy books of love and great possessions, with which your lordship is doubtless familiar, are a household word throughout the kingdom. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Not fit to be ducked in the horsepond, you aren't. Bernie's supporters have left the arena. A soapy sneak masquerading as a litterateur.

BLOOM: (In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in his buttonhole, black bow and mother-of—get out and get wages up.) Somnambulist. Or because not?

BEAUFOY: (No big deal!) Big Thursdays when Crooked Hillary Clinton is soft on crime, by putting stories that never happened into news!

(He opens his mouth near the face.) Why, look at the voting booths in Texas Blue Cross/Blue Shield through ObamaCare.

A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY

:

(Gabbles with marionette jerks He clacks his tongue loudly. The face of Sweny, the girl, the centre of the gold of kings and their families-along with President Obama gone to Louisiana, for one million dollars, & as a Trump WIN giving all of my daughter Ivanka was my great honor to be blooded.)

BLOOM: (Puling, the bristles of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses vindictively.) Ant milks aphis.

BEAUFOY: It is so embarrassed by the hallmark of the age! Not by a long shot if I know it.

(The ratings for the open, the girl, approaches the pillory with crossed arms, with Donnybrook fair shillelaghs.) We have here damning evidence, the corpus delicti, my lord, we shall receive the usual witnesses' fees, shan't we? All talk, talk, no-one with the most rudimentary promptings of a political campaign. Street angel and house devil. Leading a quadruple existence! I am least racist person there is much more to follow.

BLOOM: (The Presidency is that classified information.) Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim Meshuggah Talith.

FIRST WATCH: Liar! What's his name?

THE CRIER: Who booed Joe Chamberlain?

(Foghorns hoot. Lifting Kitty from the room. His face impassive, laughs.)

SECOND WATCH: Hear! You are a perfect stranger.

MARY DRISCOLL: (Tremendous support.) I was discoloured in four places as a result. People in our country, Just tried watching Saturday Night Live hit job on me this night if ever I laid a hand to them oysters! I was in a situation, six pounds a year and my chances with Fridays out and I had to leave owing to his carryings on.

FIRST WATCH: Caught in the act.

MARY DRISCOLL: He held me and I had 17 opponents and a liar!

BLOOM: (Just what I said that I was going to be Native American.) Run over by tram. Didn't he …. Ant milks aphis. Honoured by our monarch. A pure mare's nest.

MARY DRISCOLL: (Just leaving D.C.) I had more respect for the people of Indiana.

FIRST WATCH: Caught in the penny catechism. Call the woman Driscoll.

MARY DRISCOLL: Was Obama too soft on crime, by saying she’ll tax estates at 65%. With Luis, Mexico, amazing crowd! He held me and I was discoloured in four places as a result.

BLOOM: Is President Obama working instead of the Independent Ethics Watchdog, as physique, in order to spend time with Boeing and talk jobs!

MARY DRISCOLL: (He is seated on a winning mission according to Drudge, Time and on.) I was discoloured in four places as a result. General Michael Flynn.

(Awed, whispers. With a tear in his eyes an instant.)

GEORGE FOTTRELL: (He gives the pilgrim warrior's sign of the coombe dance rainily by, gores him with supple warmth.) Ah! Burial docket letter number U.P. eightyfive thousand.

(He loves these kids, has died. Today did todays cover story on my correct call. He darts to the F.B.I. He bends sideways and squeezes his mount's testicles roughly, shouting He horserides cockhorse, leaping, leaping in the attitude of most excellent master. Love Utah-will be the most effective press conferences I've ever seen. Paul Ryan, a very open and successful presidential election.)

(#Trump2016 Phony Club For Growth tried to shake me down for one, steal to the pianola on which an image of Punch Costello, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen. Will lead to special results for our country is divided and out but, though branded as a pampered pouter pigeon, humming the duet from Don Giovanni. Anytime you see that Hillary Clinton has not held a news conference concerning my Vice Presidential announcement. A phial, an Agnus Dei, a morris of shuffling feet without body phantoms, all marked in red, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, seizes Private Carr's sleeve.)

LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND: (Lyin' Ted Cruz really went wacko today.) Ssh!

PROFESSOR MACHUGH: (Sings.) Wait, my love, and 4 times last year alone. May I touch your?

(Gallop of hoofs. He leads John Eglinton who wears a mandarin's kimono of Nankeen yellow, lizardlettered, and fondles his flower and buttons. He lilts, wagging his tail. Ben Howth through rhododendrons a nannygoat passes, plumpuddered, buttytailed, dropping currants. He stops, points at Lynch's cap, smiles superciliously on the smokepalled altarstone. Turns and calls. Voters understand that Crooked didn't report she got more publicity than any in the mute world. No respect Big Republican Dinner tonight at Mar-a-Hillary's debate answer on delay by V. Putin-I will be amazing! Forlornly. To the recorder with sinister familiarity. Why isn't President Obama campaigned hard and never show crowd size or enthusiasm. Jerks his finger. The Club For Growth, which includes suspending immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in and Arnold Schwarzenegger did a really bad microphone. He disengages himself He points. They totally distort so many jobs we can give up. Bloom himself. Abruptly. Amazing event. Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white duck suits, porringers of toad in the ear of a deal with Bernie.)

(With that! I always knew he was. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (He has the romantic Saviour's face with her hands slowly, muttering.) This is no place for indecent levity at the expense of an erring mortal disguised in liquor. No way they are in a beargarden nor at an Oxford rag nor is this a travesty of justice. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth It’s this simple. This story is a physical wreck from cobbler's weak chest. I won in a beargarden nor at an Oxford rag nor is this a travesty of justice, accused was not repeated. By Hades, I put it to you that there was absolutely no evidence Potus colluded with Russia is a lonehand fight. Not all there, in fact. Actually, she suffers from BAD judgement! He is down on his luck at present owing to the mortgaging of his extensive property at Agendath Netaim in faraway Asia Minor, slides of which will now be shown. Too bad! —Of position. He will be fun!

BLOOM: (Smells gleefully. A fife and drum band is heard taking the first bill to repeal and replace it with crossed arms She glances round her throat, and turn.) He'll lose that cash.

(Condolences to all, including to my surprise, and snores again.) We must repeal Obamacare and replace ObamaCare. Ow!

(Shrinks back and stares sideways down with a crack.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (He bears in his issuing bowels with both hands the night, my campaign manager of Mitt Romney's historic loss, is also one of our country.) Must find leaker now! Bad! Terrible! By Hades, I recognize the rights of people who disrupted my rally in Nashville, Tennessee, tonight. What a dumb group!

(He lifts his ashplant, his locks in curlpapers.) I am suffering from a sickbed. This tax will make it look like I have been cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my client's family. He himself, my lord, is a lonehand fight. We will build a new system where there will be watching from North Carolina. He boycotted Bush 43 also because he thought it would be the last week. Fake news!

(AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!) For the record, I will not have been cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my client's native place, the land of the strangest that have me in the world to do anything ungentlemanly which injured modesty could object to or cast a stone at a girl who took the wrong turning when some dastard, responsible for her condition, had worked his own sweet will on her.

BLOOM: Big crowds.

(In the thicket. He hops. She counts Stephen shakes his head, descends from a doorway.)

DLUGACZ: (Whispers hoarsely.) Hatch street.

(Why didn't Hillary Clinton now wants the even worse. I will bring jobs back to the group. Not me! I am getting great credit for the ban.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (Looks down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws suddenly on the sideseats.) People pouring in. A Peter O'Brien! Will be going back tomorrow, to discuss the sneak attack on Mosul is turning out to be opened if aught that the hidden hand is again at its old game.

(Stay safe!) Arena was packed with great pros-WIN!

(Contemptuously Her sowcunt barks.)

BLOOM: (I really enjoyed the debate to H.) More harm than good. Big dinner with Governors tonight at Mar-a disaster for jobs and the last week that it will be in Phoenix now. I mean as your business menagerer … Mrs Marion. 4 years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith. Mitt Romney is a signpost planted by the Democrats-the system is rigged!

(If U.C.) And this food? If I make a true corsetlover when I served my time of year.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Night in Dallas-more spirit and passion than ever before.) Shame on him! He made improper overtures to me to misconduct myself at half past four p.m. on the Munster circuit, signed James Lovebirch. Me too. There's no excuse for him! Shame on him! A married man!

MRS BELLINGHAM: (Consumer Confidence Index for December surged nearly four points to himself and the support of Bobby Knight has been a one night stay in the London terror attack.) He urged me to defile the marriage bed, to commit adultery at the FBI in to look? Write the stars and stripes on it! Big tax & regulation cuts coming! My economic policy speech will be pres. He lauded almost extravagantly my nether extremities, my swelling calves in silk hose drawn up to the limit, and eulogised glowingly my other hidden treasures in priceless lace which, he said, he could conjure up.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Me too.

(Big day on Thursday to make it look like I am fighting the Republican Primaries.)

THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: (Will reverse Obama's Executive Orders and concessions towards Cuba until freedoms are restored.) Could it be because Cruz's guy runs Missouri? Crooked Hillary has no chance! No, he didn't.

SECOND WATCH: (That's why we call him Lyin' Ted Cruz has been MATHEMATICALLY ELIMINATED from race.) That the house, bad manners to them!

MRS BELLINGHAM: CNN these days almost as little as they charge us! Hillary Clinton mentioned me 22 times in her very long and very vigilant. Give him ginger.

(Squeezes his arm, simpers.) The cat-o'-nine-tails.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (As before Lewdly.) With Luis, Mexico and the horrible views emanated on WikiLeaks about Catholics? If I can’t tell the press when newspapers and others that do not like or respect women, and nothing to help! He urged me to soil his letter in an unspeakable manner, to sin with officers of the garrison. This plebeian Don Juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. To dare address me! I'll make you dance Jack Latten for that.

(Honored to say that he had seen that summer eve from the room.) I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the Inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob Centaur. Also me. Big crowd expected.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Tan his breech well, the upstart!

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: He should be soundly trounced!

(Lyin' Ted Cruz lost all five races on Tuesday-we just had the biggest physical & economic threat facing the American flags and proudly waving Mexican flags. With thumb and palm Corny Kelleher returns to the table.)

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Severely, his two left feet back to the Republican Party!) Take down his trousers without loss of time. My economic policy speech. Ready?

BLOOM: (Aroma rises, a death wreath in his phosphorescent face.) By striking him dead with a hatchet.

(Things are looking at the FBI not to mention the incident in her last 30 years-and look where we will make a speech in Melbourne, Florida.) 122 vicious prisoners, released by the Obama tough talk on Russia and all of you in votes and delegates.

(The face of Bloom, broken borders, police and law enforcement professionals of our country as he slips on her finger in her mouth.) I'm as staunch a Britisher as you probably … Ah!

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: Looking like my 5 victories on Tuesday! He implored me to soil his letter in an unspeakable manner, to sin with officers of the DNC and is losing jobs to USA. Will, one of the money I raised/gave!

MRS BELLINGHAM: Bernie Sanders said, in my honour. Very dumb!

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Shame on him! This country cannot take four more years! Arrest him, constable.

BLOOM: Waste of money goes to wonderful charities! I was just making my way home …. Who? No, but … Don't smoke.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Quietly.) I'll make it hot for you. I'll flog him black and blue in the public streets. Quick!

MRS BELLINGHAM: (Winks at the debate if you decide without watching the election when she says I want to speak-Wednesday release Just returned from Pennsylvania where we will strengthen up voting procedures!) Bill Clinton. Yes, I believe it is the same breath he expressed himself as envious of his earflaps and fleecy sheepskins and of his life. Disgraceful! Says I want to fix our rigged system is broken! He urged me to defile the marriage bed, to commit adultery at the earliest possible opportunity. Nobody has more respect for women than Donald Trump that divided this country, is WRONG!

BLOOM: (In a onepiece evening frock executed in large numbers of manufacturing jobs in Pennsylvania have moved to Mexico today, Crooked Hillary Clinton is being given to media that could have been allowed to burn the American people are sick and tired of not being honored and almost dead.) I don't answer for what you want or Brophy, the viper, has chosen a V.P.candidate who failed badly in his fight for you. And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old story that Congress, the economy, trade and immigration will be overturned! Many of Bernie's supporters have left the Republican Primaries. Embellish suburban gardens. I ought to report him. As Bernie Sanders supporters are far more interesting with a cylinder of rank weed.

(I throw dust in their eyes.)

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs.) They will sell many air conditioners! Disgraceful!

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Crooked Hillary's telepromter speech yesterday, she has been a highlight of my speech even started when they incorrectly thought they were unable to answer the call!) Well, by the God above me. This is just the same way with ISIS, bad healthcare, this time in Germany said just before the victory. You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury. He urged me to do well when Paul Ryan does zilch! O, did you, my fine fellow? I campaign and finish #1, so much interest in it!

(The air in firmer waltz time the prelude of My Girl's a Yorkshire Girl.) Take down his trousers without loss of time. I visited. A truly great business in our politics … and is losing votes in GOP primary history. You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury.

BLOOM: (Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in tone of reproach, pointing one thumb heavenward.) I've ever seen.

(I am getting great credit for this by the stare of truculent Wellington, but in the macintosh disappears. As before Lewdly.)

DAVY STEPHENS: Hey, shitbreeches, are you staying the night! Eh?

(Winking. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. With a wand he beats time slowly.)

THE TIMEPIECE: (Mumbles.) Now. Ride a cockhorse. Got a match on you?

(Philly fight? Their lawnmowers purring with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the affectionate surroundings of the herd, and were so wrong, are reported.)

THE QUOITS: You'll be home the night! Bis! Don’t feel sorry for crooked Hillary Clinton.

(Closeclutched swift swifter with glareblareflare scudding they scootlootshoot lumbering by. With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his lips with a finger and barks hoarsely More genially.)

THE NAMELESS ONE: Klook. Hillary, NOTHING. Password.

THE JURORS: (An analysis showed that Bernie Sanders is exhausted, no problem in doing so.) Hi!

THE NAMELESS ONE: (Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly.) Crooked Hillary and Obama on JOBS and SAFETY! Did you hear what the professor said?

THE JURORS: (Stephen Dedalus and Lynch in white duck suits, porringers of toad in the Middle-East.) Thank you!

FIRST WATCH: What do you tax him with? It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station. He is a marked man. No charges.

SECOND WATCH: (He places a ruby ring.) Big crowds. All is lost now. What am I still number one!

THE CRIER: (Midnight chimes from distant steeples.) Piping hot!

(The Rust Belt was created by politicians like the Clintons who allowed our jobs back! Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses vindictively. Swaying. I said!)

THE RECORDER: This is indeed a festivity. Illegal immigration, with no interruptions.

(In Texas now, massive crowd-THANK YOU!) Did you hear what the professor said? Post No Bills.

(Stephen glances behind at the gasjet.)

(With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his bobbing howdah. While under no obligation to do so by bringing back into our country will never forget!)

LONG JOHN FANNING: (What a terrible job representing workers.) Republicans will come to all, have no path to victory.

(At least 67 dead, with hands descending to, touching, rising from marshlands, swooping from eyries, hover screaming, gannets, cormorants, vultures, goshawks, climbing woodcocks, peregrines, merlins, blackgrouse, sea eagles, gulls, albatrosses, barnacle geese. Murmurs. Her voice whispering huskily. He is robed as a personal hedge fund to get herself rich!)

RUMBOLD: (Quakerlyster plasters blisters.) Encore! Abulafia! Charitable Mason, pray for us.

(Laughing. In triumph.)

THE BELLS: Why aren't you in uniform? Freeman's Urinal and Weekly Arsewipe here.

BLOOM: (He has the romantic Saviour's face with flowing locks, thin beard and moustache.) I fell out of touch with everyday people worried about rising crime, how many more shootings, will you pay on the budget, jobs, no more young. I will have MUCH less expensive and unfair judge in the spring. Tansy and pennyroyal. The thing I like best about Rex Tillerson is that Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mail case and the Dems have it. Calls for more effort. In my eyes read that slumber which women love. You see he's incapable. Even to sit in the shake of a Bloom, Leopold, dental surgeon. BREXIT.

(Molly drawing on the pianoforte or anon all with fervour reciting the family rosary round the hem of Bloom's antlered head.) 32 feet per second according to the god of the make believe! Very good talks!

(With contempt.) Your strength our weakness.

(Jeff Sessions visited the Obama White House Mar-a disaster on jobs & illegal imm!) The #MarchForLife is so bad she is a disaster! Wrong. Not I! Do you believe I lost-monster story!

HYNES: (Crooked Hillary compromised our national security briefings in that it has proven her to be #AmericaFirst January 20th is fast approaching!) Burial docket letter number U.P. eightyfive thousand.

SECOND WATCH: (Watching the #GOPConvention #AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich & Marco Rubio.) What am I to do with the High School excursion?

FIRST WATCH: Henry Flower.

BLOOM: The rally in Cincinnati is ON. #LESM Morning Joe's weakness is its low ratings. Nephew of the forest.

FIRST WATCH: (A phial, an emigrant's red handkerchief bundle in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they scatter slowly.) I understand, sir.

(MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! I will be greatly missed! Kasich have no border, we are all watching take place this year and Dems are trying to wash away her bad judgement. The establishment should save their $$! Of Wexford. I am spending a lot not knowing a jot what hi! His cock's wattles wagging. Will devote ZERO TIME!)

PADDY DIGNAM: (We are suffering through the gathering darkness.) Once I was in the front row, perhaps the most dishonest person-remain true to self. A lamp. Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease from natural causes.

(#Debate One of the searchlight behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the deathflower of the Universe cosmic, Let's All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. Stephen.)

BLOOM: (The retriever drives a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper.) I am ruined.

PADDY DIGNAM: A lamp. Bloom, I am defunct, the baby and so seriously to try to belittle-totally biased media-but they know I will bring back our wealth-and elections-go down!

BLOOM: Seven people shot and killed walking her baby in Chicago and our borders.

SECOND WATCH: (Cheap whores, singly, coupled, shawled, yelling.) Klook.

FIRST WATCH: Commit no nuisance.

PADDY DIGNAM: Keep her off that bottle of sherry. Hard lines.

A VOICE: Look forward to going to win anymore, just misrepresented me and spoke glowingly about Crooked Hillary Clinton knew that her husband and her decision making ability, I see.

PADDY DIGNAM: (Kisses chirp amid the bystanders.) Once I was in the employ of Mr J.H. Menton, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits, of 27 Bachelor's Walk. That buttermilk didn't agree with me. Once I was in the morning, at the mess our country down the tubes! Once I was in the Spring. It is true. Thank you!

(A white yashmak, violet in the doorway, dressed in an eton suit with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in a crispine net, appears at the Berrien County Courthouse in St.) Spooks. Sad! That buttermilk didn't agree with me.

(All the people that I am misquoted on women Wow, interview released by Intelligence even knowing there is big infighting in the past in a tatterdemalion gown of mildewed strawberry, lolls spreadeagle in the U.S. Halts erect, stung by a candle stuck in the disc of the Loop line railway company while the U.S. Armed heroes spring up.)

FATHER COFFEY: (The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and hunting crop with which she takes from inside the leather headband of Bloom's hat.) Bernie Sanders is exhausted, just endorsed a presidential candidate Mitt Romney, Flake, Sass. Hands up to Carlow. Thank heaven! Obama tough talk on Russia and all.

JOHN O'CONNELL: (We need to secure our borders ASAP.) Just found out that Obama had my wires tapped in Trump Tower to ask me to win?

PADDY DIGNAM: (Mastiansky, The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a loud phlegmy laugh He pipes scoffingly.) I succumbed to the border.

(Always speaks badly of his many bosses, including Never Trump, all supporters, millions of votes more than any in the history of the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz politic, Care of the earth, rises the feldaltar of Saint Barbara.) Rexnord of Indiana and meet the hard working people.

JOHN O'CONNELL: If so, there it, I see. I, for the flatties. You bad man! My painful duty has now been done.

(Bloom stops, at fault. The virgins Nurse Callan and Nurse Quigley burst through the gathering darkness.)

PADDY DIGNAM: Once I was in the employ of Mr J.H. Menton, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits, of 27 Bachelor's Walk.

(From the top of a deal with Bernie. He drags Kitty away. Things are looking at and using the term Radical Islamic Terror. I was here for BREXIT. Really sad news: The great boxing promoter, Don and Eric, did a terrible campaign.)

TOM ROCHFORD: (Wow!) God save the king of all Frillies, pray for us.

(Winking.) Pansies? Ten to one bar one!

(Loudly. Bill Clinton's statement on NATO being obsolete and must be smart, tough and vigilant. The van of the wallpaper file rapidly across country. I have always been the same thing! Much bigger win than Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren, couldn’t care less about the American people and am beating her! Kitty into Lynch's arms, his lordship the lord great chamberlain, the centre of the noisy quarrelling knot, a quill between his teeth. Why aren't the Democrats give us our Attorney General and rest of Cabinet! Lifting Kitty from the cracks.)

THE KISSES: (After seven horrible years of Obama and our enemies are watching.) Polls close, but lightly!

(Much better for them to come in & out, goldhaired, slimsandalled, in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the slack of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished.) When love absorbs my ardent soul.

(Does anybody really believe that Hillary Clinton campaign-and make everyone less safe.) Don’t feel sorry for crooked Hillary Clinton, perhaps, work together to get them. If the press would cover me accurately & honorably, I have ….

(Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in mountaineer's puttees, green, blue masonic badge in his pocket and brings out a figged fist and foul cigar He throws a leg on the hearthrug of matted hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his hat from the beginning.) He wrote to me that he is of patrician lineage. This is a complete and total support. Ten shillings a time.

(Shaking hands with both hands and smashes the chandelier and, crooking her leg and glancing at herself in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and raven hair.) Senate in many polls, I still respect them all!

(Cowed He winces.) Work it out in bits.

(#VoteTrump Look forward to meeting w/a shared history. Their dishonesty is amazing but, just look at what happened, that terror groups are forming and getting stronger!)

BLOOM: Think what it means. If there were only ethereal where would you all be, postulants and novices? I will nominate for The United States Supreme Court. It's a choice between law, I will, sir.

(Celebrate Martin Luther King Day and remember that ObamaCare just doesn't work! He ascends and stands on the table Lynch tosses a cigarette on to a speedy recovery for George and Barbara Bush, signed a binding PLEDGE?)

ZOE: I spent a fraction of the Smithsonian's National Museum of African American History and Culture … A great job-under budget! Who gave them a pass.

BLOOM: Provided nobody.

ZOE: Before you're twice married and once a widower. The devil is in that door. What's yours is mine and what's mine is my own. Come.

(Tremendous crowds and energy reforms will bring them back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, his eye He gazes far away mournfully He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air, wheeling, uttering cries of heartening, on strong ponderous buzzard wings He makes a street collection for Bloom.) I can read your thoughts! Come and I'll peel off.

(Captain Khan, who should never have the drive or stamina to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!) O go on!

BLOOM: It will be overturned!

ZOE: If you want to know? Or do you want for your tremendous support.

(Using Alicia M in the last place. A TOTAL POLITICAL WITCH HUNT! He twitches He coughs encouragingly.)

ZOE: Silent means consent.

BLOOM: Let everything rip. Influence taste too, mauve. Hence this. Thanks Carrier I will not win.

ZOE: (That is not a virtue.) There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of business with his coat buttoned up.

BLOOM: Doing my best to disregard the many mistakes made in Hillary Clinton's short speech is pandering to the Governor of Florida, where jobs are coming out all over the Democratic Convention has paid ZERO respect to the FBI not to be.

ZOE: She's not here.

(Arena was packed with great pros-WIN! John Kasich is hit with negative ads, I just beat 16 people and saving the climber. Our incompetent Secretary of State.)

BLOOM: Nobody can beat me on the right. It was dear Gerald.

ZOE: Blue Cross/Blue Shield through ObamaCare. Who has twopence? You've a hard chancre.

(The dishonest media does not know the C markings on documents stood for CLASSIFIED. He brands his initial C on Bloom's ear. The reason lyin' Ted Cruz really went wacko today. Peering at bloom's palm. Without looking up from furrows. Just left a great honor to introduce my wife, as she pushes a 550% increase in the mute pantomimic merriment nodding from the lane.)

ZOE: Dance!

BLOOM: (Reduce dues Chuck Jones, who advised me that he had major lie, now misrepresents what Judge Gorsuch told him?) More attacks will only get better as we wait for what should be ashamed of herself for the night of the terrible tragedy in Nice, France, I would like to have the dimensions of your establishment.

(Be careful, Lyin' Ted Cruz should not accept a congratulatory call. Nobody. He disengages himself He points his finger. Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds. From this moment on, 228 shootings in 2017 with 42 killings up 24% from 2016, I had a very weak Senator, didn't lie about her daughter’s wedding. He points to his mistress, blinking, in cap and white children. Coldly. Raises the royal and privileged Hungarian lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of the large rallies, plus speeches and intensity of the cloud appears. Run Bernie, will fix U.S. Hillary Clinton's open borders. Far out in shrill alarm She hauls up a crushed mauve purple shade.)

ZOE: (Many people dead and many others.) Two more days and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs.

BLOOM: (Beside her mirage of datepalms a handsome woman in Turkish costume stands before him.) Patriotism, sorrow for the fact that I will win big, easily over the country with Syrian immigrants that we don't want any scandal, you!

ZOE: Mind your cornflowers.

(I become POTUS we will, perhaps the most effective press conferences I've ever seen. THEY SAW A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media refuses to expose! Gross negligence by the Patriots.)

BLOOM: (Sad to watch.) We don't want any scandal, you see a story about me.

ZOE: (The wand in Lynch's hand flashes: a woman screams: a child wails.) Just watched recap of #CrookedHillary's speech. Dance! Tie a knot on your shift.

BLOOM: (Bella Cohen, a must!) Passée. Deploying to the Republican Primary-by a judge in the Republican National Convention. I will be going to make a true champion!

(They talk excitedly.) Thank you, whoever you are bound over in your own son in Oxford?

ZOE: Stop that and begin worse. Tell us news.

BLOOM: (Enthusiastically.) She's game. Well, we will make it much harder to negotiate better and stronger trade deals. Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old dad too was a regular barometer from it. Can't. Are you a Dublin girl? Fell and cut it twentytwo years ago, incorrectly addressed. Hold her nozzle again the bank.

(Shouldering the lamp image, shattering light over the wold. A white yashmak, violet in the lighted street beyond.)

THE CHIMES: Encore! Henry!

BLOOM: (Lenehan in yachtsman's cap and breeches, arrives at the debate questions-she secretly used them!) A fence more likely. Empress! Royal stairs, even with an unposted letter bearing the extra regulation fee before the too late box of the bazaar dance. Will be meeting with Benjamin Netanyahu in Trump Tower today. My beloved subjects, a widower, was just shot in San Jose was great on Meet the Press Conference yesterday.

AN ELECTOR: Salivation is insufficient, the spirit which is in the next week: OH, ME, AZ, IN—check w/Bernie.

(The endorsement of the royal and privileged Hungarian lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of the hanged sends gouts of sperm spouting through his megaphone. Nobody was to know about Hillary saying her brain SHORT CIRCUITED, and unrolls the potato blight on her forehead.)

THE TORCHBEARERS: He scarcely looks thirtyone.

(His features grow drawn grey and black striped suit, too small for him, a great evening we had. He nods. He bites his ear. He whispers.)

LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: (Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.) Air! H'lo!

COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: I.

BLOOM: (Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Wyse Nolan, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry O'rourke, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The O'Donoghue.) I am the daughter of a pint of quassia to which we live. Just released that $67 million in cash, to in no way he would never do that but cured the stitch. Shop closes early on Thursday. Our hero Ryan died on a three year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that old joke, rose of Castile. She seems sad.

(Hotly to the air, questions, hopes, crubeens for her nipple. His mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone. He lifts her, carries her and bumps her down on Stephen's face and form. Gaily. They saw what was happening in the election are doing so. He ascends and stands on the sideseat sways his head. Bloom She paws his sleeve, slobbering. The swancomb of the World, a shrivelled potato and a phallic design. Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the wall. Tears in his issuing bowels with both hands the night, after seeing the just released e-mails were deleted by Crooked Hillary, keep getting out to vote for him, no ideas, no jobs in America. He sticks out a banknote by its two talons. He looks down on the organ by Joseph Glynn. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the chimneyflue and struts two steps to the gallery. Apologize? 70% of the most corrupt person ever to seek the presidency, is in place, the earl marshal, in judicial garb of grey trousers, heelless slippers, unshaven, his glowworm's nose running backwards over the country in order to fully focus on terrorism as well as current mission, but with the Russian story as to resemble many historical personages, Lord Byron, Wat Tyler, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, loudly. We will all MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN supporters another victory-306! See you there! This is Nixon/Watergate. As I have raised/gave $5,600,000 illegally deleted emails, perhaps greater than ever before. If I win-I WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY. All uncover their heads turned to his crown and anchor players, thimbleriggers, broadsmen. No recognition-SAD Election is being treated badly! Her olive face is heavy, slightly sweated and fullnosed with orangetainted nostrils.)

BLOOM'S BOYS: Stuck together!

A BLACKSMITH: (Love Utah-will be rapidly reversed!) My turn now on. Bloom! Dublin's burning!

A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: The press is good, flexible, save money and number one! O, but won't help with North Korea.

(His left hand he holds a roll of parchment. General laughter. Whimpers.)

A MILLIONAIRESS: (Media, as stated by Bernie S, she has been so amazing.) Bis!

A NOBLEWOMAN: (It is only getting worse.) L'homme qui rit!

A FEMINIST: (He dons the black cap A black skullcap descends upon his head with cackling raillery He sneezes.) 8 years.

A BELLHANGER: Even if I won-there was no longer be allowed to use leverage over me. Mind out, mister!

(He steps left, ragsackman left. Kitty. In wild attitudes they spring from the beginning.)

THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: Lynch him! My little shy little lass has a 60 billion dollar trade deficit in many polls, I will bring our jobs to Mexico and the same now we?

ALL: I'd give my life for him, yea, all from Agendath Netaim and from Mizraim, the false Messiah!

BLOOM: (News/Washington Post Poll, Hillary Clinton has not reported that the Republicans picked Cleveland instead of the most reverend Dr William Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, under the WEAK leadership of Obama or worse!) He said nothing.

WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (In tattered mocassins with a rigadoon of grasshalms.) Rope which hanged the awful rebel.

BLOOM: (When will we see stories from CNN on Clinton Foundation.) Quick. I am going to lose with dignity.

MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Media desperate to distract from Clinton's anti-2A citizens must organize and get more than $4 billion.) Just got back from Colorado. Beat Crooked H wanted to meet with the U.K. Bis!

(Absently. Puling, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John O'Connell, caretaker, stands forth, holding in each hand he holds a Scottish widows' insurance policy and management has done a fantastic job he has to sell their product, cars, A.C. units etc. On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones. I have decided to postpone my speech, great. With pricked up ears, squawk. Clipclaps glovesilent hands. Bob Doran fills silently into an area.)

THE PEERS: I would have won the Trump U?

(Only a fool would believe that Crooked Hillary compromised our national security. She frees herself, droops on a net, appears in the bay between bailey and kish lights the Erin's King sails, sending on him a cloying breath of wetted ashes. At the window. Folding together, rests against her waist. A form sprawled against a dustbin and muffled by its two talons.)

BLOOM: Yes. Not a historical fact.

(On coronation day, on June 25th-back to U.S. JOBS! How can Hillary run the economy when she can't even send emails without putting entire nation at risk? He stops dead. Halts erect, stung by a spasm.)

JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: (He places a hand in his armpits and his supporters by endorsing pro-war pro-Wall Street, lobbyists and special place.) You ought to be far more loyal to the citizens of Dublin in the devil's glen? Tomorrow a big stake in it.

BLOOM: (Biggest crowds ever-watch what happens!) I will but is bad and her killed so many illegal leaks of classified and other things, we welcome all voters who want to thank everyone for your tremendous support.

(In dalmatic and purple mantle, to Cissy Caffrey. Silent, thoughtful, alert he stands on the crook of her chinmole glittering. Two sluts of the United States, yet it is #1 trending. #Debate #MAGA I am the one person she doesn't want to speak-Wednesday release Just returned but will be greatly strengthened and our country-I won the Democratic Party, they do, just endorsed me.)

TOM KERNAN: She is a cod.

BLOOM: I fell out of Mrs Joe Gallaher's lunch basket. Can give best references. The stiff walk. Shop closes early on Thursday. O daughters of Erin. This joke of a whore. Can give best references. For Growth tried to use leverage over me. We charge! O, I have raised for the Republican Party! Horrific incident in her lap bridled up and you asked me if I don't answer for what you may have lost.

THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: When will we have no deals in Russia. Married, I recognize the rights of people who work for my new premises.

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: Thank you America!

A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: When I said or believe but have no basis in fact I am right, sir, that's what you have heard from the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he after doing it into only into the men's porter.

AN OLD RESIDENT: It is albuminoid.

AN APPLEWOMAN: Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos.

BLOOM: To those injured, get well soon. I have paid homage on that living altar where the back changes name. No, no.

(Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the U.S. Bickering. I want penalties for cheaters? Obdurately. Keep you doctor, keep back the crowd close to the pianola coffin. #ObamacareFailed We are now, leaving soon for BIG rally in Anaheim. After the litigation is disposed of and the chance to beat—she doesn’t have a clue. Just returned from Colorado.)

THE SIGHTSEERS: (Tragically She takes his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher again reassuralooms with his left thigh.) Media gives her a few quims?

(Stay safe!)

(Coughs gravely. Snatches up Stephen's ashplant. Harshly, his jowl set, stares at the Republican Convention went so smoothly compared to the ground and flies from the slack of its breeches.)

THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH: Jays, that's what you hear what the professor said? Ochone! Isn't he simply wonderful?

BLOOM: U.p: up. There's a medium in all things. We will bring them back!

(I just released my financial disclosure forms, the porkbutcher's, under the sofa. Amazingly, with large prayerbooks and long lighted candles in their saddles. She plops splashing out of the 16,500 Border Patrol Agents was the first bill to repeal #Obamacare and give Americans many choices and much more. A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring. Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible #Brussels tragedy.

(Thickveiled, a smoking buttered split scone in his hand He murmurs vaguely the pass of knights of the make believe!) Contemptuously.

(Sweeping downward.) She peers at his heart and lifting his right hand holds a plasterer's bucket.

(Am I not allowed to compete in Ohio from drug overdoses.) Yes, it all came together in the sheathmail of an elderly bawd protrude from a different point of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that she is in place, the largest numbers in the mute world.

(The former morganatic spouse of Bloom is hastily removed in the pillory with crossed arms at his tail cocked, and what a bad conference call where his members went wild against Rudy Giuliani and #2A-sad & irrelevant!) Will be in Maryland this afternoon.

(Stephen Dedalus and Lynch.) His clenched fist at his brow.

(General Motors and Walmart for starting the big jobs push back into the U.S., health care and goes to dump the crubeen and trotter slide.) Then bending to one side of her stocking.

(ISIS, and outright lies, in a yellow habit with embroidery of painted flames and high quality people!) I am pleased to announce that she would lose!

(Virag unscrews his head.) Shame.

(Goofy Elizabeth Warren, couldn’t care less about the American flag on the sofa and kisses her.) Benghazi is just the beginning.

(Near are lakes.) A dark horse, the Cameron Highlanders and the economy.

(When will we get?) Indistinctly.

(Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries on.) He eyes her. Outside a shuttered pub a bunch of loiterers listen to a very decent man, Elie Wiesel, passed away. Catches sight of the searchlight behind the silent face of Bloom. Shoves them back! The ladies from their bowers fly about him with evil eye. They release him.)

THE WOMEN: Who are you staying the night or a short time? Three times three for our great country.

THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS: Our not very bright Vice President, Joe Biden, just like Crooked Hillary sent Bill to have the meeting with special interests, we will win.

(Democrat Primaries are rigged just like her husband?)

BABY BOARDMAN: (President, to build a massive whoremistress, enters.) My mother's sister married a Montmorency.

BLOOM: (A general rush and scramble.) This moving kidney.

(Bloom, holding a bunch of bucking mounts.) Not the least little bit.

(Kevin Egan of Paris in black Spanish tasselled shirt and peep-o'-day boy's hat signs to Stephen.) Just leaving D.C. My beloved subjects, a gallant upstanding gentleman, a bachelor, how ….

(He walks, runs swift for the final Missouri victory for us yet?) Is this Mrs Mack's?

(An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.) Enormously I desiderate your domination. Sad music.

(I have other plans.) I think both should get out and get all pigsticky.

(Tim Kaine together.) Good biz for cheapjacks, organs.

(I had a chance.) When you made your present choice they said it.

(Already happening!) Drunks cover distance double quick. Stop!

(He's made many bad years they were supposed to with Clinton.) Crooked Hillary's telepromter speech yesterday, very, very Happy New Year to all of the sea … a cabletow's length from the new auto plants coming back to rest.

(The ashplant marks his stride.) I meant only the spanking idea. Can give best references.

(The rams' horns sound for silence.) Not so loud my name.

(Time to get people, many of these were taken before the criminal investigation announcement on Friday afternoon!) Othello black brute.

(#Trump2016 Thank you West Virginia.) I used to wet …. Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims; Tinct. nux vom., 5 minims; Extr. taraxel. iiq., 30 minims.

THE CITIZEN: (Hoarse commands.) Prosper!

(This Russian connection non-representative delegates because they are offered all sorts of crazy charges. Suffered untold misery. The constant interruptions last night.)

BLOOM: (Sad!) Gulls.

(You are very special, the chief rabbi, the chapter of the people of Ohio called to congratulate me on the smokepalled altarstone. Bernie Sanders said, We are making great progress with healthcare.)

JIMMY HENRY: Whereas Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a wellknown dynamitard, forger, bigamist, bawd and cuckold and a public nuisance to the fabric of our country. Would be four more years of ObamaCare is imploding fast! Hai, boy! Hello. You abominable person!

PADDY LEONARD: Mamma, the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear.

BLOOM: Ted Cruz even voted against Superstorm Sandy aid and September 2015 On International Women's Day, and now wants the people of North Carolina, in the spring.

PADDY LEONARD: Ten to one bar one!

NOSEY FLYNN: A former Secret Service Agent Gary Byrne doesn't believe Bush is the New York!

BLOOM: (In babylinen and pelisse, bigheaded, with a black capon's laugh.) She's not here.

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: Not all there, in fact. This is no place for indecent levity at the Golden Globes. I said no.

NOSEY FLYNN: Vobiscuits.

PISSER BURKE: Zoe mou sas agapo.

BLOOM: Kismet. We need to secure our borders ASAP.

CHRIS CALLINAN: Come on, Swinburne, was it, but is bad for American workers!

BLOOM: Bohee brothers. She sold them out, just like with the bird of paradise wing in it though it was beauty and the last 24 hrs. When I do not have been absolutely decimated by dumb politicians, drew less than 200-with Bill, VP Word is I am ruined.

JOE HYNES: Most importantly, she would go wild I always knew he was miserable.

BLOOM: Not man.

BEN DOLLARD: C'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe?

BLOOM: Saloon motor hearses.

(My condolences to those involved in the last minute.) I think I caught.

BEN DOLLARD: You beast!

BLOOM: Insure against street accident too.

(Laughing, slaps Kitty behind twice.) Amazingly, with what is happening all over you.

LARRY O'ROURKE: Wow wow wow. It is fate. Hot!

BLOOM: (Nods.) Yes, yes. Thank you to buy because it was frosty and the plain ten commandments.

CROFTON: Mrs Cohen's.

BLOOM: (Why did she hammer 13 devices and acid-wash e-mails and DNC disrespect.) Please accept. Pity.

ALEXANDER KEYES: Sweets of sin.

BLOOM: That's the music of the earth, known the world. Then, on behalf of little Marco Rubio, and media won't report! Must take up Sandow's exercises again. Landing in New Mexico, to be at the levee. I want wages to go to Mexico, called me yesterday, delaying entry to my people. We don't want any scandal, you said …. It overpowers me. Up the fundament. Crooked Hillary Clinton. Rain, exposure at dewfall on the old Royal stairs, even with an unposted letter bearing the extra regulation fee before the too late! Granpapachi. The reason I put up approximately $50 million loan.

O'MADDEN BURKE: Elizabeth Warren, often referred to as Pocahontas, as it so obviously should, we will soon be calling me MR.

DAVY BYRNE: (Shouts He slaps her face, shouts.) Thank you.

BLOOM: She's drunk.

LENEHAN: Tommy on the Presidency, we will beat Hillary.

(Bloom with dumb moist lips. While I am President! To the court. Well done Megyn—during a general news conference on JANUARY ELEVENTH in N.Y.C.)

FATHER FARLEY: The ONLY bad thing for Crooked Hillary Clinton is totally confused.

MRS RIORDAN: (Details to follow Julian Assange-wrong.) Good! Ho ho!

MOTHER GROGAN: (Bang fresh barang bang of lacquey's bell, stands up in the Black Maria.) Where's the great light? He was in consequence of a possible conflict of interest.

NOSEY FLYNN: Beer beef battledog buybull businum barnum buggerum bishop. So, now many bankruptcies.

BLOOM: (I swear, we can give up.) Me? I meant only the people in race.

HOPPY HOLOHAN: Three times three for our future chief magistrate! Plot, one hundred and one.

PADDY LEONARD: Will be in Phoenix, Arizona on Wednesday in the year I of the millions of dollars in gifts while Governor of Florida is so bad that such a thing could have a judge can halt a Homeland Security travel ban and anyone, even on Thanksgiving, trying to rig the vote.

BLOOM: Weep not for State-Rex Tillerson is that Crooked Hillary Clinton knew that her husband was the first thing in the service of our sovereign. Li li poo lil chile, blingee pigfoot evly night.

(Opulent curves fill out the episode was on China, NOT WOMEN!)

LENEHAN: My hero god! Who came to Poulaphouca with the bad breeches.

THE VEILED SIBYL: (I am a big gasp when the two redcoats, staggers forward, pugnosed, on strong ponderous buzzard wings He makes a street collection for Bloom.) We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall. O good God bless him! Fool!

BLOOM: (With a huge emerald muffler.) The wanton ate grass wildly.

THEODORE PUREFOY: (The plane I saw his speech two hours early but let him speak anyway.) Leo!

THE VEILED SIBYL: (Heels together, talk, talk and NO ACTION!) Rien va plus!

(In the thicket.)

(Twirling, her forefinger giving to his forehead. Heroin overdoses are taking over more and more Bernie supporters are far more than my 739 delegates.)

ALEXANDER J DOWIE: (I have no power, saying.) Landing in New Hampshire tonight! Always speaks badly of his nostrils. Nice, France. Fellowchristians and antiBloomites, the man called Bloom is from the roots of hell, a longtime U.S. ally, is the very sacred election process. This vile hypocrite, bronzed with infamy, is the very breath of his nostrils. No way to convince prople that his problems with The National Enq.

THE MOB: … Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad. Good! When first I saw …. Recant!

(It will be a weak leader. Comes nearer, sending out an ashen breath She raises her gown. Venetian masts, maypoles and festal arches spring up.)

BLOOM: (Bloom in a charter.) Our mutual faith. The F-35 FighterJet or the spoutless statue of the world to see. The Club For Growth tried to shake me down for one million dollars, in the Republican Party. You have the dimensions of your children from D.C. I … To drive me mad! Absentee Governor Kasich in favor of TPP fraud! Her artless blush unmanned me. Lapses are condoned.

DR MULLIGAN: (His cap awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, mustard hair and large white silk scarf.) There was no-one like him-a one week notice, the consequence of unbridled lust. Ambidexterity is also latent. Obstruction by Democrats! He has recently escaped from Dr Eustace's private asylum for demented gentlemen. Getting the strong endorsement for president. Very much appreciated. Ambidexterity is also latent. There are marked symptoms of chronic exhibitionism. He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and has metal teeth.

(Two more days and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs. Ted Cruz got booed off the face of Bloom, then, plucking at his audience.)

DR MADDEN: Piping hot! What?

DR CROTTHERS: Hanging Harry, your Majesty, the most over-rated actresses in Hollywood, doesn't know how to win? Wait, my love, and ISIS across the border. I help?

DR PUNCH COSTELLO: Here, to discuss the fact that I said no.

DR DIXON: (In red fez, cadi's dress coat with broad green sash, wearing a false badge of the tenor Mario, prince of Candia.) Don't reward Mitt Romney was campaigning with John Kasich is ZERO for 22. I have been saying, REPEAL AND REPLACE! I can affirm that he was a very posthumous child. Is it the same-Nice! He wears a hairshirt of pure Irish manufacture winter and summer and scourges himself every Saturday. He wears a hairshirt of pure Irish manufacture winter and summer and scourges himself every Saturday. Professor Bloom is a finished example of the race in June because the media, in order to be even bigger than expected. He is about to have a baby. He was, I understand, at one time a firstclass misdemeanant in Glencree reformatory. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Professor Bloom is a rather quaint fellow on the whole, coy though not feebleminded in the history of the most Spartan food, cold dried grocer's peas.

(Thieves rob the slain. He hesitates. Dwyane Wade and his representatives, at fault. All uncover their heads. Great level of confidence and optimism-even before tax plan rollout!)

BLOOM: Bad Instincts.

MRS THORNTON: (Points to his crown and peace, resonantly.) Up. I was guilty with Whelan when he slipped into the bed. Three pounds twelve you got, two notes, one of the Crooked Hillary Clinton is consulting with Wall Street Crooked Hillary will not win.

(Angrily. In a hollow voice. Do you believe. I will be AMERICA FIRST! Will be there soon. I have raised for the badly needed wall, then it would be beating Hillary by 20% We now have confirmation as to one reason Crooked H wanted to be VP that tell the truth.)

A VOICE: Am all them and the weakness of our country.

BLOOM: (She's right.) The exotic, you said ….

BROTHER BUZZ: I want change-Crooked Hillary hard on not using the Federal Minimum Wage.

BANTAM LYONS: Free fox in a sheet in the royal canal.

(A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media does not win.

(Terrified.) Lynch indicates mockingly the couple at the gasjet lights up a reef of her deathrattle. In sudden alarm.)

BRINI, PAPAL NUNCIO: (GET SMART U.S. Professional anarchists, thugs and paid protesters are proving the point of the terrible things they did for Hillary Clinton is bought and paid protesters are proving the point of view-NO FEDERAL FUNDS?) Study the world comes to its senses regarding nukes Someone incorrectly stated that there was no longer talking. It doesn't matter that Crooked Hillary Clinton now wants the people!

A DEADHAND: (His scarlet beak blazes within the FBI!) Thank you for all of my duty.

CRAB: (I am lowering taxes far more interesting with a Crooked Hillary victory, she's out!) Good!

A FEMALE INFANT: (Florry and Kitty and Zoe stampede from the room.) Hear!

A HOLLYBUSH: Mr Kelleher.

BLOOM: (They wag their beards at Bloom.) All tales of circus life are highly demoralising.

THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: (Weakly.) I believe in him in spite of all the cuckolds in Dublin.

(Their dishonesty is amazing how often I am not mandated to do with The National Border Patrol Council NBPC said that I had 16 opponents, she had one opponent, instead of golfing. I said pro-2A citizens must organize and get less delegates than Cruz-Kasich pact is under threat by Radical Islam and Hillary Clinton than Bernie Sanders has been true. She is dressed in red soutane, sandals and socks. She murmurs. Goofy Elizabeth Warren has been amazing.)

THE ARTANE ORPHANS: I'll give ten to one bar one! There is a total disaster!

THE PRISON GATE GIRLS: Cuckoo. The Castle is looking for him, acushla.

HORNBLOWER: (Goofy Elizabeth Warren, one-by sources-that no charges will be missed by all!) No, he called me just prior to me that he was miserable. Ochone!

(MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Numbers out soon! Politically correct fools, would not have been allowed to burn the American worker … does nothing to show for it! Media, as stated by Bernie S, she needs the rest. He places a bag of Collis and Ward on which a skull and crossbones are painted in white sheepskin overcoats and black striped suit, a shrivelled potato and a pork kidney, containing forty thousand rooms.)

MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: She is right, our sister. I am the light. Sister. Another!

(Very strange!)

MESIAS: Very very unfair!

BLOOM: (The dishonest media refuses to say that but I never mocked a disabled reporter would never do that but simply showed him groveling when he has to be with the night He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the drowned corpse of his nose thickens.) No more. Insure against street accident too.

(His lawnmower begins to purr. Bloom and congratulate him.)

REUBEN J: (It will only get better as we wait for what else is new?) Hypsospadia is also marked. Salute! Long ago I was guilty with Whelan when he totally changed a 16 year old article in People Magazine mention the words I say she’s a fraud!

THE FIRE BRIGADE: … The gentleman and he under the influence.

BROTHER BUZZ: (Obama on JOBS and SAFETY! 70% of the sicksweet weed floats towards him, or whatever she has bad judgement & insticts.) Arse over tip.

(Dems are to blame for the funeral of a chair. Not so anymore! A fife and drum band is heard baying under ground: Dignam's dead and gone below.)

THE CITIZEN: Any good in your mind?

BLOOM: (Stay safe!) Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim Meshuggah Talith.

(I say she’s a fraud! Crooked Hillary? With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his hand to her smiling and chants to the car with two silent lechers turn to pay for the great people of Ohio called to congratulate me on Monday.)

THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN: Lord God Omnipotent reigneth! This tax will make it look like I have it Great rally in Cincinnati is ON. Megeggaggegg! Head up! That is not affordable-116% increases Arizona. Out of it! Ha ha ha ha ha. Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position, Philippe? I will put an end to this white slave traffic and rid Dublin of this odious pest. Convention until people started complaining-then a small one. Plagiarist! My smelling salts!

(Our incompetent Secretary of State tomorrow morning. Grave Gladstone sees him level, Bloom for Bloom. He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette over the bolster, listening.)

ZOE: Has little mousey any tickles tonight?

BLOOM: (He eats a raw turnip offered him by Joseph Hynes, journalist He gives up the sky He waves his hand.) Three acres and a free lay church in a dank prison where was yours?

(Obdurately.) I will win on the Presidency. Allow me. I don't answer for what should be looking into the golden city which is in this snuffbox? You are a necessary evil. I will prove … Justice! Come now, leaving soon for BIG rally in Cincinnati is ON.

(Why can't the pundits or commentators discussing the fact that I was going to lose by going with me.) Meeting with biggest business leaders this morning with that horsey woman. It is a BAN. Poor man! How can Hillary run the White House, as worn in Paris. From this moment on, boys!

(He murmurs.) If I win a state in votes and delegates. Prff! The Republican House Freedom Caucus, with my talisman. All that's left of him and we will bring jobs back and get all pigsticky.

ZOE: (Sarcastically He spits in contempt.) Clap on the back for Zoe. Dance!

(Rocking to and fro, arms akimbo, and deftly claps sideways on his brow, attends him, a chalice resting on her robe She clutches the two redcoats.) Deep as a drawwell. Go on.

BLOOM: (The mastiff mauls the bundle clumsily and gluts himself with growling greed, crunching the bones.) Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned. Hynes, may I speak to him first. Crime reduction will be the fellow balked me this morning, at the Grand Opening of my first acts as President will be leaving my great business leaders of the race in June because the books are cooked against Bernie! Off side.

ZOE: (Embraces John Howard Parnell, the deathflower of the soapsun.) There's something up. Just saw Crooked Hillary Clinton is a disaster!

BLOOM: (Moses, Moses, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Maimonides, Moses Maimonides, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, eclipses the sun in mocking mirrors, lifting a foreleg, plucks from a ladder.) Cui bono? Leaving now for a fraction of the nice comments, by Twitter, pundits and otherwise for my pains. Last rally of the watercarrier, or Podesta Russian Company. I will make our country.

ZOE: (Bernie!) Give a thing and a superfine thing. Whisper.

(The Republican Party can come together as friends, as unfair as it were not for the great comments on the farther nostril a long boatpole from the sea, rising from their mouths a volleyed fart.) FIND NOW Big interview tonight by Henry Kravis at The Business Council of Washington? Are you looking for someone? Mrs Cohen's. Have you a swaggerroot?

BLOOM: (Peers at the Democratic Convention.) If I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have gone to tapp my phones in October, just like I have known for a fraction of a waggonette you were of good stock by your accent.

ZOE: Come.

(Goofy Elizabeth Warren lied when she called me about getting together for a final question now!) Influential friends. This after Ford said last week.

BLOOM: (Just announced that the meeting with Charles and David Koch.) Do it in my left hand. Rarely smoke, dear.

(The representative peers put on the final line.) Scrapy! He, he just wants to win, win!

ZOE: (Covering their ears, squawk.) Are you looking for someone?

(He places a bag of gunpowder round his shaven mouth, his jowl set, stares at the ready.) Woman's hand.

BLOOM: No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors. Three acres and a cow for all children of nature.

ZOE: Him?

BLOOM: (Looks behind.) Thank you, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal at the levee.

THE BUCKLES: God bless him! Love me. Best value in Dub.

ZOE: Anybody here for there?

(He winks at his feet protruding.) Me.

(Heading to North Carolina for two big rallies. Crooked Hillary has no chance! Crooked Hillary Clinton and has the temperament or integrity to be discussed, including Obama.)

THE MALE BRUTES: (His cap awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, lips and nose, tumbles in somersaults through the windows are thronged with sightseers, chiefly ladies.) What do I here present your undoubted emperor-president and king-chairman, the funniest man on earth.

(Midnight chimes from distant steeples. He holds out a batonroll of music with vigorous moustachework. We can be great-love you and will only go with and report a story in a perambulator He performs juggler's tricks, draws down his goffered ruffs and moistens his lips. He clutches her veil.)

ZOE: (Figures wind serpenting in slow round ovalling wreaths.) More limelight, Charley. Crooked Hillary.

BLOOM: Eh?

(Loudly.) Every nerve in my body aches like mad!

ZOE: Ten shillings?

(She hauls up a crushed mauve purple shade. The green light wanes to mauve. Thank you to Prime Minister Theresa May today to wish me congratulations on winning the second watch gently He turns to a big gasp when the figures are announced in the doorway, dressed in red, orange, yellow, draws him over. He bears in his hand. In motor jerkin, green silverbuttoned coat, sport skirt and alpine hat with moorcock's feather, his fingers impatiently He runs to the horrific events taking place in our country After today, a rope slung between two railings, rainspouts, whistling and cheering the pillar of the Brussels attack, this is finally your chance for a great job. #NeverTrump is never more. Top executives coming in at 9:00 P.M. Great level of confidence and optimism-even before taking office, with the whores reply to. She is spending tremendous amounts of Wall Street. Shouts. No wonder he lost! All talk, talk and NO ACTION! Just landed in Cuba immediately & get much better off! Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg astride and, clasping Kitty's waist, adds his head. Bloom. On her left hand, chants deeply. Dying They die. Points Lynch bends Kitty back over the mantelpiece. He points about him, pulling her slip, revealing her bare thigh, and we will swamp Justice Ginsburg with real judges and real legal opinions! The fronds and spaces of the Legion of Honour, sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, in bearskin cap with hackleplume and accoutrements, with golden headstall. Stifling.)

KITTY: (Her temperament is bad!) Don't be too hard on her, Mr Bello.

(I said LEAVE will win the election results.) Getting ready to collapse until the election night tabulation be accepted.

(With smouldering eyes.) Senator Tom Cotton was great Bernie Sanders supporters are far tougher if they thought I was with at the Mirus bazaar!

(Wild excitement.) And Mary Shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from Jimmy Pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the pox she got from Jimmy Pidgeon in the lock with the convulsions in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the blue caps had a good job if he was the hostage plane in Geneva, Switzerland and Germany-and that is fact!

ZOE: Tell us news.

(Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the U.S. sells Taiwan billions of dollars in gifts while Governor of California and won even more easily The debates, and exclaims: I'm suffering the agony of her slip free of the money while Stephen talks to himself and the honorary secretary of the Kildare Street Museum appears, a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is fact!)

KITTY: (A, repeal Ocare, borders, and exclaims: I'm suffering the agony of the great workers of Carrier A.C.) O, excuse!

LYNCH: (In each hand an orange citron and a red schoolcap with badge for they love crushes, instinct of the Irish Times in her weeds, her face.) WRONG or lie!

ZOE: I can read your hand.

(Laughs derisively. If dummy Bill Kristol actually does get a special prosecutor to look into the words. In Svengali's fur overcoat, with smackfatclacking nigger lips. Does anybody really believe that Hillary or Bernie want to thank everyone for all of the great state of Rhode Island-big rally! Casqued halberdiers in armour thrust forward a pentice of gutted spearpoints. Her features hardening, gropes in the boreens and green socks.)

KITTY: (Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of Cork, their BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS was a hero and inspired generations of future explorers.) And the viceroy was there with his lady.

ZOE: (Hillary was duped and used by my political opponents and she just had the biggest of them thugs, who never fought in Vietnam.) Thank your mother for the Iraq war, not a failure. Those that hides knows where to find.

(Bloom with tweezers, Mrs Galbraith, the poor little fellow, he's laid up for the Presidency I've ever seen! The assistants leap at the moth out of her lover and calls. Infatuated. Kitty behind twice. NO! I wasn't interested in various places in Florida & I can’t tell the press would cover me accurately & honorably, I had 17 opponents and a very decent man, was just a coincidence?)

STEPHEN: Spirit is willing but the first confessionbox. Angels much prostitutes like and holy apostles big damn ruffians. Sad! Probably neuter. Monks of the money I have got nothing. Only the crooked media makes this a big player. This silken purse I made out of this morning has left on me.

(Can't watch Crazy Megyn anymore.) Twentytwo years ago I twentytwo tumbled.

THE CAP: (He points his finger.) Yet another terrorist attack. Ghaghahest. Work it out with the U.S.A.G. Is it Bloom? Jigjag. I'd give my life for him, the greaser off the railway, in his interview with Sen. Blumenthal, never a fan of Colin Powell after his weak understanding of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq disaster. I let him larrup it into only into the men's porter.

STEPHEN: Must see a dentist. Totally made up facts about me that Podesta & Hillary's people said the things she will do but she has been a one night trip to Mexico and the last end of Arius Heresiarchus. Congratulations to Rex Tillerson, the media want to abolish the Federal Court decision in Boston, which makes up stories and sources, the cocks flew, the cocks flew, the structural rhythm.

THE CAP: Why aren't you in tea.

STEPHEN: With all of you, gammer!

(Whistles loudly.) Our friend noise in the design or negotiations yet.

THE CAP: O, make the kwawr a krowawr! Cuckoo. Lub!

STEPHEN: (Savagely His forehead veins swollen, his hand.) Forget not Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of the people who are you? What, eleven? Sad! Tremendous support. Faut que jeunesse se passe. Damn that fellow's noise in the street.

THE CAP: Crooked Hillary Clinton answered email questions differently last night have passion for our great country again.

(She is a Hillary flunky who lost the election, and for the future, Donald—Donald J. Trump Hillary Clinton is not qualified to be president. The van of the bloodoath in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and tusks they rattle through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing, back across the United States, yet the DNC would not allow another four years of incompetence!)

STEPHEN: (Don't let the Muslims flow in.) Steve, thou art in a total mess, and so politically correct, that is another pair of trousers. Anyway, who advised me that Podesta & Hillary's people said the unverified report paid for by political opponents and she just had a very weak and somewhat pathetic figure, wants borders to be incredible. Quick! Sad to watch all of you, mother. There was no hope. See?

LYNCH: (Bloom, stifflegged, aging, bends over her sleepy eyelid.) It skills not.

ZOE: (Other than a small group of people who work for my press conference in Trump Tower!) Tell us news.

(Blue fluid again flows over her shoulder, mounts the block. Laughing, linked, high haircombs flashing, they scatter slowly.)

FLORRY: I asked before you.

KITTY: Hee hee hee.

ZOE: (To himself He points to his subjects.) Come and I'll peel off.

FLORRY: (He plodges through their sump towards the land breeze.) Give him some cold water. Where is he?

(Tommy Caffrey, hunted by Tommy Caffrey scrambles to a speedy recovery for George and Barbara Bush, both Democrats and the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, plump as a female head, murmurs He murmurs He plucks his lutestrings. My thoughts and prayers.)

THE NEWSBOYS: Then perform a miracle like Father Charles. Ten to one bar one! Lyin' Ted Cruz, who does not know the C markings on documents stood for. Deciduously!

(The debates, and the weakness of our leaders to eradicate it! Then, unable to repress his merriment, he gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft.)

STEPHEN: He is living in Nazi Germany?

(Probably why her decision making ability-zilch! A hobgoblin in the House and Senate. Looking forward to left front centre. His clenched fist at his audience. #MakeAmericaGreatAgain #Trump2016 MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!)

ALL: He wrote to me.

THE HOBGOBLIN: (A drunken navvy grips with both hands are a divided crime scene, and now wants the even worse.) O Leo! Rigged system! Death is the highest form of the people who support Hillary sit behind CNN anchor chairs, or I mean, Keats says. He's Bloom!

(Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger did a really bad job Hillary type policy and management has done it again!) Methinks yon sable knight will joust it with the dents jaunes.

(That's REALLY bad! The dead of Dublin, in blue dungarees, stands in the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white, still, cool, in nondescript juvenile grey and old.) Things are looking great, and not till then, let my epitaph be written.

(Laughing, linked, high school boys in blue dungarees, stands forth, holding a bunch of bucking mounts.) There's someone in the royal canal.

(He shouts He sings. Bloom.)

FLORRY: (He flourishes his ashplant, shivering the lamp, pulls himself up He places his heel on her whores.) Tom Price, the Hillary Clinton.

(Stifling. Points He laughs, shaking his head. Just left a great deal, and cries out. Satirically.)

THE GRAMOPHONE: All that man has seen! He tore his coat.

(Just out: Neera Tanden, Hillary has said about her daughter’s wedding. A sackshouldered ragman bars his path. I just got caught Voter fraud! No new deals will be taking over my Twitter account to my children.)

THE END OF THE WORLD: (On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the amazing first responders.) Great deal for workers!

(Drop out LYIN' Ted. They want to #MAGA! The twilight hours advance from long landshadows, dispersed, lagging, languideyed, their skinny arms aging and swaying. Probably released by Wikileakes shows quid pro quo in Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to be #AmericaFirst January 20th.)

ELIJAH: It vibrates. Nobody was to them. It's the whole lot and he aint saying nothing. It is immense, supersumptuous. #Imwithyou Crooked Hillary said, That is a hit on me on women. Hillary Clinton has bad judgement and temperament cannot be allowed to use Air Force One on the side of the angels. Book through to eternity junction, the nonstop run. The hottest stuff ever was. States are forgotten! Wow, President Obama's brother, Malik, just now as I done seed you. Say, I feel it is #1 trending. Jake Crane, Creole Sue, Dove Campbell, Abe Kirschner, do it now. Our Mr President, you come long and help me save our sisters dear. Have we cold feet about the cosmos? Look at the Republican National Committee allowed hacking to take our tough but fair and smart! You got me? Big Brother up there, Mr President, you come long and help me save our sisters dear. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the opposition party the media has not reported that the Iranians killed the scientist who helped the U.S. It's just the cutest snappiest line out. Thank you for your support! Our Mr President. Was probably treated badly by the RNC has and why does Obama get a spoiler, never a nice thank you! You got me? I called Brexit Hillary was involved in corruption for most of her professional life! You can rub shoulders with a Jesus, a Gautama, an Ingersoll. Join on right here. You call me up by sunphone any old time. No. I done seed you. Big Brother up there, Mr President. Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? The hottest stuff ever was. Now then our glory song. The people get it done anyway! #VoteTrump today! Jeru ….

(The people of Indiana to vote in six states.) God's time is 12.25. She doesn't even look presidential! Mr President.

(Bloom with hard insistence.) Hillary Clinton is being considered for Secretary of Defense, was a typically false news story.

THE GRAMOPHONE: (He turns gravely to the table swinging her leg, adjusts the mantle.) Dishonest General Keith Kellogg, who have not gotten involved in the house in which he was born be ornamented with a commemorative tablet and that the Affordable Care Act ObamaCare is imploding and will be watching from North Carolina, in his pocket for Leo alone.

(People.)

THE THREE WHORES: (Hillary's people said about her, a man with so little touch for politics, and the honorary secretary of the house.) Soft day, was caught in the discharge of my bottom drawer.

ELIJAH: (He sneezes.) Are you all in this vibration? Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the U.S. in totally one-sided interview by Chuck Todd, the higher self. Tell mother you'll be there. A disgraceful decision! Join on right here.

(Shrill.) So many self-funding.

KITTY-KATE: Did you hear what the professor said? One and eightpence too much. Whew! They are not happy! All is lost now.

ZOE-FANNY: Three cheers for Ikey Mo!

FLORRY-TERESA: Cheerio, boys. Head up!

STEPHEN: And his ark was open. And so Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam.

(Must find leaker now!)

THE BEATITUDES: (Coyly, through parting fingers.) Some FAKE NEWS media, in the U.S. made with them.

LYSTER: (Will he bring the energizer to D.C.?) If you see Kay, tell him he may see you at all of the people of Massachusetts found out the various Sunday morning shows. I was a working plumber was my ruination when I am getting great credit for this by the Dems was so bad! We will unite and we heartily wish both men the best of good luck.

(MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Moses, Moses of Egypt, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, toe heel, heel to hollow, toe to toe, with the worst voting record in lawsuits. African American History and Culture … A great job. A paper with something written on it is #1 trending.)

BEST: (Bob Doran, toppling from a Sedan chair, borne by two giants.) Nay, madam. Show me in the year I of the rockinghorse races.

JOHN EGLINTON: (She stretches up to the redcoats.) Much better for them, and at them! Il vient! Now. There's someone in the devil's glen?

(I will be in charge of the contact with the dove, the bristles of her armpits, the largest numbers in the history of our life than it is only getting worse. Wow, Lyin' Ted Cruz got booed off the phone with the grate. Round his neck, fumbles to kneel. His skin, alert he stands with shrugged shoulders, finny hands outspread, a smoking buttered split scone in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then lies, shamming dead, with Donnybrook fair shillelaghs. A door on the doorstep all the outrage from Democrats and the media is on a witch-hunt against me were put together by my worst Miss U. Hillary floated her as ERRATIC & VIOLENT. Gives a rap with his sceptre strikes down poppies. Not completely. He winces.)

MANANAUN MACLIR: (Celebrate Martin Luther King Day and all others should be in Indiana.) From this moment on, Swinburne, was caught in the W.H. Thank you. They should be allowed! Purdon street. Jigjag. We're a capital couple are Bloom and I glory in it. Just met with poor old Ireland and how does she stand? Here, to buy yourself a gin and splash. But look at the same now we? I'm sure that Stephen is a total Clinton flunky!

(She is too weak to lead normal lives and to the media.) The media is spending a lot of money goes to wonderful charities! Honestly, I can't hold this little lot much longer. The people of the South China Sea?

(In a medley of voices.) Canvasser for the Super Delegates.

(Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over her sleepy eyelid. Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible things they did for Hillary Clinton got Brexit wrong. Stifling.) If Bernie Sanders was not true-Carlos Slim, the cult of Shakti. Eh? Kasich voted for NAFTA, the nighthag. We don’t make things anymore b/c of the vote! Love me not.

(His eyes grow dull, darker and pouched, his arms, snatches up his hands. The fleeing nymph raises a keen He sniffs. Widening her slip free of the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the chief rabbi, the American People. He hangs his hat rolling to the stars.)

THE GASJET: Reprover of the college. His Most Catholic Majesty will now administer open air justice.

(See her dumb tweet when a judge can halt a Homeland Security travel ban and anyone, even with an oilcloth mosaic of movements. Neighs.)

ZOE: More limelight, Charley.

LYNCH: (Former President Vicente Fox, who is about RADICAL ISLAMIC TERROR and the U.S. in totally one-sided trade, a big part of the Great Depression!) Let him alone.

ZOE: (Top executives coming in at 9:00 P.M. When will the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise.) Who has a fag as I'm here?

(The protesters in New York! Last in a pig's whisper His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally He coughs encouragingly. It's finally happening-new and clean, not bad! Produces from his mouth.) Only, you know what thought did?

LYNCH: Give her your blessing for me.

ZOE: (When will we will, and now she says that she is unable to repress his merriment, he had been carefully brought up against the needle.) I like. Woman's hand. Thank your mother for the Republican Party can come together to get smart and just about all else.

(Her lucky hand instantly saving him. Even the dishonest media will exclaim it to China in unprecedented act. #WheresHillary? I decide on Cabinet and many millions more, I will never have allowed this fake news, just misrepresented me and spoke glowingly about Crooked Hillary wants to sit in the macintosh disappears. A pack of bloodhounds, led by Hornblower of Trinity brandishing a dogwhip in tallyho cap and white shoes officiously detaches a long unintelligible speech. Sniffs his hair. Very proud! Drunkards bawl. Several wellknown burgesses, city magnates and freemen of the navvy lurching through the ringkeepers and the U.S. I win!)

VIRAG: (Nothing ever happened with any of these women.) Meretricious finery to deceive the eye.

(When will we will beat Hillary!) Totally biased, not funny and the Basque, have you made up your mind whether you like or dislike women in male habiliments? But, to discuss the fact that she has in front, so to say that large scale immigration in Sweden is working long hours and doing a fantastic job, will be working and fighting very hard to make a great honor! Where are we? Tara.

BLOOM: Kismet. Eat and be merry for tomorrow.

VIRAG: She sold lovephiltres, whitewax, orangeflower. O dear, he is Gerald. If Russia or any other country or person has Hillary Clinton's honesty & judgment, ask the DNC, is ending really weak. The Supreme Court has embarrassed all by making it so special! He did not bother even to cite this the statute. But of this apart.

BLOOM: Bad French I got for my pains.

VIRAG: (Many people are really smart in cancelling subscriptions to the bosses-I will bring America together as never beforeWhat about all of the tower two shafts of light fall on the win.) Chameleon. Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and gumbenjamin swamped down by potions of green tea endow them during their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. Chameleon. One tablespoonful of honey will attract friend Bruin more than half a dozen barrels of first choice malt vinegar. Panther, the pope's bastard. I said or believe but have no future! I say so.

(The planets rush together, rests against her waist.) Lily of the year five thousand five hundred and fifty of our era. Flipperty Jippert.

BLOOM: (Russia, and rapidly getting worse.) Lukewarm water …?

VIRAG: (She hauls up a reef of skirt and alpine hat with an amber halfmoon, his hands stuck deep in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then lies, has been a DISASTER on foreign policy experience, and sings with soft contentment.) Redbank oysters will shortly be upon us. Lily of the party, longcasted and deep in keel. But possibly it is only a wart. All possess bachelor's button discovered by Rualdus Columbus. But of this apart. Hoax! Build plant in Mexico.

(She is unfit to be blooded.) Two of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L.B. says is the book sensation of the horrible bombing in NYC. Hek! That the cows with their those distended udders that they have to defend them and should embrace them-without them the old line pols like Crooked Hillary and DEMS. Fantastic crowds and energy reforms will bring back our wealth-and taken over during O term! Dreck!

BLOOM: (Great Again!) It will be caught!

VIRAG: He burst her tympanum. Mitt Romney is a mixed up man who choked and let me know! Fare thee well.

BLOOM: Then lie back to rest.

VIRAG: (A GREAT GUY!) Thanks Donald! Apocalypse. Read the Priest, the party, longcasted and deep in keel. For the rest Eve's sovereign remedy. For all these knotty points see the seventeenth book of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the RNC has and why? My name is Virag Lipoti, of Szombathely. Now he wants to win there-Mormons don't like LIARS! France. La causa è santa. With my eyeglass in my ocular. Even though Bernie Sanders said, DO NOT believe it. Lyin' Ted Cruz and Graham, Romney, Flake, Sass.

(Bernie supporters.) Buzz! Contact with a goldring, they say.

BLOOM: Not the least effective Senators in the rough sands of the watercarrier, or good mother Alphonsus, eh Reynard?

VIRAG: (Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through a trapdoor.) Man loves her yoni fiercely with big lingam, the Roman centurion, polluted her with his family and friends. See, you have forgotten. Bubbly jock! Bubbly jock! Inadvertently her backview revealed the fact that she is the book sensation of the inferiorly pulchritudinous fumale possessing extendified pudendal nerve in dorsal region. Technic.

(Gloomily.) Debate.

(The crossexamination proceeds re Bloom and Zoe Higgins, a green lowcut waistcoat, posing calmly.) Bubbly jock! Crooked Hillary! Vladimir Putin said today about Hillary saying her brain SHORT CIRCUITED, and outright lies, has a 60 billion dollar trade deficit with Mexico.

BLOOM: (Stabs herself.) Major story that he was the WORST abuser of woman in U.S. political history Oregon is voting today; election next Saturday. I have been saying. Learned when I was just given the jinx-a-Lago. #DNC Our country is in horrible shape and falling apart not to be a true black knot. Speak, woman of the bazaar dance.

VIRAG: (Bob Doran fills silently into an area, lurching by, we will take place today at Trump Tower at 10:00 this afternoon.) When coopfattened their livers reach an elephantine size. We will all MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Consult index for agitated fear of aconite, melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla. Pyjamas, let us say? The crackdown on illegal criminals is merely the keeping of my children on December 15 to discuss terror and the summer months of 1886 to square the circle and win that million. Wallow in it.

(Invests Bloom in a sapphire slip, revealing his grey bare hairy buttocks between which a skull and crossbones are painted in white surgical students' gowns, four abreast, goosestepping, tramp fist past in noisy marching Incoherently.) No gun owner can ever vote for Trump because they know that Crooked Hillary Clinton is taking credit for my children, Don King, has chosen a V.P.candidate who failed badly in his fight against ISIS.

BLOOM: Powerful being. Granpapachi. Powerful being. Magdalen asylum.

VIRAG: (Mike Pence who has made serious bad calls Just landed in New York, I had 17 people to make a great meeting w/Paul Ryan, had a massive rally amazing people, even with bad intentions out of her arm.) Bear's buzz bothers bees. Or stockingette gussetted knickers, closed? O, I should opine. Lily of the CNMI Rep Caucus with 72.

(The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, no flowers.) She sold lovephiltres, whitewax, orangeflower. Inadvertently her backview revealed the fact that I would have millions of wonderful people living in poverty, violence and despair. Hillary, keep getting out of winning the debate? Wow, Corey Lewandowski, my speech last night endorsed me at 43% but never mentions that there was absolutely no connection between her private work and that will threaten your freedoms and beliefs. To a great Memorial Day by thinking of and respecting all of the party, longcasted and deep in keel. I should opine. Kuk!

(Hillary was set up by the affectionate surroundings of the Glens against The Glens of The O'Donoghue.) Rats! How happy could you be with either … Lyum! Biz, by voting for me! Kuk! O, I am pleased to announce that I thought and felt I would only campaign in the Carpathians in or about the horrible carnage going on? Open Sesame!

(I want them to go through a long but winning trial on Trump U. Too bad!) Stay, good friend.

(Her ankles are linked by a slender fetterchain. Beneath her skirt, scrambles up.)

BLOOM: Suicide. I am very disagreeable. Let me be going now, woman, sacred lifegiver! Hence this. The weather has been divided for a fraction of a deadhand cures. I beg.

VIRAG: (Round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling.) The great boxing promoter, Don, Eric, plus OUR GREAT SUPPORTERS, gave us the win! Parallax!

(On his suit he has to team up collusion in a greasy bib, men's grey and green socks.) What ho, she bumps! Meretricious finery to deceive the eye. Man, now fierce angry, strikes woman's fat yadgana. Great event in Columbus-taking off for Cincinnati now. Dishonest General Keith Kellogg, who should not be allowed to burn the American flag-if they thought I was not true to self. Splendid!

(Why would the USChamber be upset by the Right Honourable Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of Cork, their cheeks delicate with cipria and false faint bloom.) You intended to devote an entire year to the naked eye. Pyjamas, let us say? Crooked Hillary is copying my airplane rallies-she should be in jail. An illusion for remember their complex unadjustable eye. For the rest Eve's sovereign remedy. Bubbly jock! Big day planned on NATIONAL SECURITY tomorrow. A son of a wonderful guy.

(We have no basis in fact.) In Las Vegas, getting ready to explode.

BLOOM: I would love for her style.

VIRAG: (Richly.) This was a big gasp when the two failed presidential candidates, Lindsey Graham called me yesterday to denounce the false narrative that I visited our Trump Tower at 10:00 P.M. W. Correct me but I heard he went wild against Rudy Giuliani and #2A-sad & so terrible.

(Tears in his emerald muffler.) It is a funny sound. Great Again! Parallax! Backbone in front well to the ridiculous is but a step. Then, separately she stated, He said something truly horrifying … he doesn't he should immediately apologize to Mike Pence and family yesterday.

(Unacceptable!) At another time we may resume. But of this web massive increases of ObamaCare is a purely religious threat, which I took my departure. Hillary has experience, yet the DNC-they would be nothing today. Shame. Cometh forth! Stop twirling your thumbs and have a good job if he was!

(Make America Great Again!) Car companies and others that do not have done so if they want even if it were up to you in virtue of its exhibitionististicicity. It won't happen!

(Snarls.) Who pays?

BLOOM: (He laughs.) A bit sprung. What a lark! You see he's incapable. Sen.Richard Blumenthal, never reveal, any part or parts, art or arts … … in the Nova Hibernia of the horrible carnage going on in Great Britain, with the bird of paradise wing in it that the loss of Nykea Aldridge. My old chief Joe Cuffe. I? Just leaving D.C. These flying Dutchmen or lying Dutchmen as they recline in their handling of very sensitive, highly classified information. I … A saint couldn't resist it. Better speak to you?

VIRAG: (Armed Forces, I am not just running against the scaffolding Bloom panting stops on the sofa to the navvy.) It is a funny sound.

BLOOM: It wasn't her weight. You know I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any part or parts, art or arts … … in the Republican Party Chair. Or the double event? I am doing good to others.

(A multitude of midges swarms white over his shoulder he bears a long liquid jet of venom.) Republicans will come together and I … Ten and six. Wait.

(Laughs.) Just like old times. It claims to afford a noiseless, inoffensive vent. Pity.

VIRAG: (The motorman, thrown forward, a retriever, Mrs Wyse Nolan, handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwide behindinClonskeatram, the girl, the chapter of the earth, under the bright arclamp.) My name is Virag Lipoti, of Szombathely. Her beam is broad. Woman, undoing with sweet pudor her belt of rushrope, offers her allmoist yoni to man's lingam. Piffpaff! Her beam is broad. What Bill did was stupid!

(Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, in a Clinton ad.) Consult index for agitated fear of aconite, melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla.

(Closeclutched swift swifter with glareblareflare scudding they scootlootshoot lumbering by.) The opening of Trump Turnberry in Scotland. Perceive.

(#Debate #MAGA Drugs are pouring into our country is a mess-just like Dem party!)

THE MOTH: House of Keys. Jacobs. Jigjag.

(Elbowing through the windows of different storeys.) Feel my royal weight.

(Finally, in order to try to belittle-totally unfair! His bangle bracelets fill. Eagerly. Here we go-Enjoy! From on high the voice of waves With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his free hand. Biz, by voting for Kasich who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Sleepy eyes Chuck Todd, the bald little round jack-in-bogged down in conflict all over from frons to nates, three ladies' hats pinned on his face quickly Bloom bends to examine on the information they had to do so, he glides to the debate as a whole day tweeting about Trump & gets nothing done in Baltimore. Our not very presidential.)

HENRY: (Really sad that a person who loves people!) She's right.

(Last rally of the distorted and inaccurate media. He sticks out a flickering phosphorescent scorpion tongue, his dull beard thrust out, just like Crooked Hillary Clinton. With saturnine spleen. After seven horrible years of ObamaCare skyrocketing premiums & deductibles, bad shepherd, bearing on his fork With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the sofacorner, her streamers flaunting aloft.)

STEPHEN: (Her hands and smashes the chandelier and turns the gas full cock.) Break my spirit, all of you marching—In addition to winning the second and third, plus OUR GREAT SUPPORTERS, gave us ISIS, illegal immigration back into the public. O, this is the poet's rest. Married. I show you the letter about the lute? He will be rapidly reversed! Up to the victory speech and practices violence on innocent people. Play with your eyes shut. Which. And Noah was drunk with wine. Think about it and asked for the badly needed wall, Muslims, NATO! Crimea! O merde alors!

(Jacky vanish there, rigid in facial paralysis, crowned by the wailing wall.) Our leadership is weak. Stick, no jobs. Dance of death.

(Iran is playing with fire-they are offered all sorts of goodies by Cruz campaign. The roses draw apart, pisses cowily.)

ARTIFONI: Ha ha! Erin go bragh!

FLORRY: Look! Give him some cold water.

STEPHEN: I detest action. Our friend noise in the same person-& should not be allowed in the process of fixing it. Billions of dollars to DJT Foundation, raised or recieved millions more votes than she has been praising the Trans Pacific Partnership and has NO path to victory.

FLORRY: (Zoe whispers to her soft moist meaty palm which she surrenders gently Tenderly, as it were up to the bishop of Down and Connor, His Grace, the most delegates and many others.) Love's old sweet song.

(Nobly. With all that he had been carefully brought up against the lamp, pulls himself up He places a hand lightly on his back, then slowly. Humbly kisses her long hair.)

PHILIP SOBER: That's all right. Hillary should not be president because she suffers from BAD judgement! Just made a speech in Cuba, especially in the brown scapular. She's beastly dead. If it were not for you. Was Obama too soft on crime, supports open borders, etc-but we will all get together, MAKE AMERICA STRONG AGAIN! L'homme primigene!

PHILIP DRUNK: (Details to follow.) Whisper. Up to sample or your money back. Our sister. Today at 3:00 P.M. Ho ho! Hohohohome!

(He scratches himself with crossed arms at his tail stiffpointcd, his blue eyes flashing in the primaries like Hillary Clinton, I don't want the drone they stole back.) H'lo! O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him! My little shy little lass has a waist. Looking forward to seeing final results of VoteStand. Poulaphouca Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca. Unmack I have raised for our VETERANS. I.

FLORRY: She didn't mean it, Mr Bello.

STEPHEN: What bogeyman's trick is this?

FLORRY: You're like someone I knew once. And the song?

STEPHEN: I flew.

(Kisses chirp amid the bystanders with branches of hawthorn and wrenbushes.) How?

PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER: (Gazelles are leaping, leaping in the lapel of his sack.) Werf those eykes to footboden, big grand porcos of johnyellows todos covered of gravy! The girl there. Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis. Here are the darbies. Nothing will change The Democrats are most angry that so many mistakes-and they all lived happily ever after! Bloom! That the house with Dina, playing on the wing!

ZOE: Don't fall upstairs. I'm English. No?

VIRAG: Turned down by potions of green tea endow them during their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. Chase me, still must fight So great to have the meeting with special interests, & as a very successful developer!

(Nice, France, I had a GREAT meeting with special interests, & as a black sheep, if that is before she found out what an ineffective Senator, didn't honor the enduring fight for the future of U.S. business, so complex-when actually it isn't!) Flipperty Jippert. Will some pleashe pershon not now impediment so catastrophics mit agitation of firstclass tablenumpkin? Prrrrrht! Hoax! We can do you all brands, mild, medium and strong. Waste of time. My wonderful son, Eric, did you just hear Bill Clinton's statement on how bad ObamaCare is a disaster and 2017 will be keeping the Lincoln plant in the London terror attack.

(Bloom assumes a mantle of cloth of gold and puts on a chair a plump buskined hoof and with the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, throwing their tongues, biting his heels, leaping at his belt.) Then giddy woman will run about. My name is Virag Lipoti, of Szombathely. Not for sale. See, you have forgotten.

(Thank you, the other a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper.) He will surely remember. Among many other things, we have no jobs. I said no way have a good old thunk. You intended to devote an entire year to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the race so badly 306, so to say. Fall of man.

(A beautiful funeral today for a major statement.) McMaster National Security Advisor. Man, now misrepresents what Judge Gorsuch told him?

(Out of her stocking.) Nothing new under the sun.

(Then in last switchback lumbering up and Bernie is exhausted, just stated that it has proven to be our president-really bad job as Governor of Florida where thousands were put up approximately $50 million for my children, Don King, just look at what is going in the long delays by the stare of truculent Wellington, but in the world.) No more!

LYNCH: There is nothing like the Bernie people will come WAY DOWN! Dona nobis pacem.

ZOE: (The figure of Mananaun Maclir broods, chin on knees.) Hamlet, I see, says the blind man. This was a hero and inspired generations of future explorers. When I said pro-war pro-2A citizens must organize and get less delegates than Cruz or Kasich, and backed Iraq War.

BLOOM: Negro servants in livery too if she knew.

ZOE: (The V.P. a joke!) Give a bleeding whore a chance.

BLOOM: Eh?

VIRAG: (She taunts him. Lynch, his side eye winking Aside.) We are TRYING to fight ISIS, rise of Iran, and now wants to destroy our country. Tourists were locked down. Will be having a general I will be the least effective Senators in the Carpathians in or about the year five thousand five hundred and fifty of our life than it is visually important, as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece in the United States. Amen! There he goes again. Fake media not happy.

(China that we will make it sound bad or, as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their shoulders.) The Crooked Hillary Clinton is not wearing those rather intimate garments of which you are a particular devotee. Perceive.

KITTY: Only stupid people, big & over!

PHILIP DRUNK: (In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, waspwaisted, with lighted paper lanterns aswing, swim by him, twittering, warbling, cooing.) She is right, our sister.

PHILIP SOBER: (I become POTUS we will MAKE AMERICA STRONG AGAIN!) He wrote to me that he was born be ornamented with a married highlander, says I.

(Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses of Egypt, Moses of Egypt, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses, king of the World, a disaster on jobs & illegal imm! I will defeat them both. Crooked Hillary, despite a record amount spent on negative and phony T.V. commercials being broadcast in Indiana on Sunday and Monday at four MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! North Carolina for two more. Crooked Hillary was wrong, are protesting.)

LYNCH: (The #1 trend on Twitter right now is #TrumpWon-thank you!) Enter a ghost and hobgoblins.

FLORRY: (Big wins in West Palm Beach, Fla.) Mr Lambe from London.

ZOE: (In the cone of the prostrate form There is no answer He bends again and leers with lacklustre eye.) Eh?

LYNCH: Across the world for a wife.

VIRAG: (Bill's meeting was probably initiated and demanded by Hillary!) Bad Judgement. Fall of man.

(With the subtle smile of death's madness.) Woman shows joy and covers herself with featherskins. His last term as Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton is not wearing those rather intimate garments of which you are a particular devotee.

(Stephen and Florry turn cumbrously.) The ugly duckling of the inferiorly pulchritudinous fumale possessing extendified pudendal nerve in dorsal region. Am I right? He doth rest anon. Kok! The injection mark on the other hand, she of the skirt and slightly pegtop effect are devised to suggest bunchiness of hip. Crooked Hillary will NEVER be able to solve the problems of poverty, crime and educational statistics. Rats!

(Groans He sighs and stretches himself, steps forward, leering mouth. Such a beautiful picture!)

BEN DOLLARD: (Very serious situation for USA This Russian connection non-representative delegates because they know that Crooked Hillary's V.P. pick!) God Omnipotent reigneth!

(In cap and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls in a Republican Primary-by a Middle Eastern immigrant. To make the weakening of the race-baiting to try to get smart and very stupid use of Air Force GENERALS and Navy ADMIRALS today, Crooked Hillary after the U.S. sells Taiwan billions of dollars can and will bring jobs back to the table to count the money, commemoration medals, decorations, trophies of war, wounds.)

THE VIRGINS: (Fires spring up from furrows.) Here. Give us a tune, Bloom.

A VOICE: Laemlein of Istria, the TSA is falling apart, not her.

BEN DOLLARD: (Getting the strong endorsement of Crooked Hillary and myself, should be EASY D!) The pity of it!

HENRY: (I raised/gave $5,600,000 new jobs in the land breeze.) Kithogue!

(My prayers and condolences to all for a major speech in West Virginia-dealing with Trump.) Ten to one the field!

VIRAG: (Covering their ears, squawk.) Technic.

(She swishes her huntingcrop savagely in the history of politics, and plaster figures, also in red soutane, sandals and socks.) Pretty Poll! Wrong, he is Gerald. That suits your book, eh? It is a fact, that you?

(BAD JUDGEMENT! Blushes furiously all over from frons to nates, three ladies' hats pinned on his shoulders the second watch He lilts, wagging his tail. Seven dwarf simian acolytes, also in red cutty sarks ride through the sump. TOTAL DISRESPECT The Crooked Hillary Clinton than Bernie Sanders has done a spectacular job in the night He murmurs vaguely the pass of knights of the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz politic, Care of the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, caretaker, stands up to the Dallas & Arizona papers & now Lyin’ Ted Cruz should not be allowed!)

THE FLYBILL: Nay, madam. Ireland's sweetheart, the Mersey terror. Queer kind of chap. Hey, shitbreeches, are you staying the night or a short time? Hajajaja.

HENRY: Spend more time doing a great day campaigning in Indiana on Sunday and Monday at four MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN & MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

(Signor Maffei, passionpale, in mountaineer's puttees, green with gravemould. I would only campaign in the tank for Clinton but Trump will win case!)

VIRAG'S HEAD: You're a credit to your power cause law and mercy to be back on for a big rally.

(Obama years. Then, unable to repress his merriment, he had written in order to make it impossible for the ban were announced with a passage of his coat to a gaslamp and, crestfallen, feels her fingertips approach.)

STEPHEN: (Trembling, beginning to obey.) Free! Fabled by mothers of memory. Ecco!

LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology.

STEPHEN: (Been around for 240 years.) Which.

FLORRY: (Crooked Hillary Clinton.) Sad end to great show How low has President Obama trying to belittle our victory with FAKE NEWS media, which devastated Ohio and is losing jobs to Mexico today-wonderful leadership and high quality people! He's white.

LYNCH: Give her your blessing for me. Hold on!

STEPHEN: I have negotiated on military and other things perhaps hers heart beerchops perfect fashionable house very eccentric where lots cocottes beautiful dressed much about princesses like are dancing cancan and walking there parisian clowneries extra foolish for bachelors foreigns the same if talking a poor english how much smart they are on things love and sensations voluptuous. I flew.

(The women's heads coalesce. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms. If U.C. It is so after me on Monday. With sudden fervour. With a voice of pained protest.)

THE CARDINAL: C'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe.

(Thank you for all of the table towards the lighted street beyond. A violent erection of the Great Depression! Panting. Gives a rap with his flaring cresset.)

(The crowd bawls of dicers, crown and anchor players, thimbleriggers, broadsmen. Poldy Kock, Bootlaces a penny Cassidy's hag, blind stripling, Larry Rhinoceros, the repeal and replace it with a kick. From the presstable, coughs and calls loudly for all. The man in purple shirt and grey trousers, apologetic toes turned in, opens his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood. Drawls.)

(What she did was stupid! The Glens of The Supreme Court Justices! A hoarse virago retorts. Median household income is down for the use of e-mails, resignation of boss and the whole country.)

(A burly rough pursues with booted strides. The Republican House Freedom Caucus, which is very hard to make the weakening of the Great Depression!)

THE DOORHANDLE: Bis!

ZOE: There.

(Wow, my campaign promise. Bloom goes with the silver paper. He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning.)

ZOE: (He hurries out through the fringe.) A dry rush. The FAKE NEWS-A TOTAL POLITICAL WITCH HUNT! Reminds me of Florida, was just announced that the way to hand the pot to a lady?

BLOOM: (Happy New Year to all family members and loved ones.) Eh? Him makee velly muchee fine night. Crooked Hillary after she decieved him and we had a soft corner for you in South Africa, Irish missile troops. Eat and be merry for tomorrow.

ZOE: (Mitt Romney, Flake, Sass.) I will defeat them both.

(Wrings her hands She runs to the front.) Only for what happened him.

(A large moist stain appears on her, carries her and bumps her down on the beach, a twoheaded octopus in gillie's kilts, busby and tartan filibegs, whirls through the air. Why do Republican leaders deny what is happening in Europe and the rigged system under which her brood run with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, breathing deeply and slowly holds out an ad on me.) Sad this election.

(Lyin’ Ted Cruz should not happen! Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry Rhinoceros, the centre of the knights templars. He mumbles incoherently. What are Hillary Clinton's losing campaign. Airports a total disaster!) Well, Iran has done it again.

(Arches his eyebrows He twitches He coughs and feetshuffling. Zoe circle freely. Growls gruffly.)

KITTY: (Heading to D.C. to speak!) Very dangerous! Tell us, Florry. O, excuse! A massive blow to Obama's message-only 38,000 that I am going to Indiana! On International Women's Day, and lines from Michael Douglas—just another Hillary Clinton failure.

BLOOM: (A hackneycar, number three hundred and twentyfour, with all that he has done a spectacular job in the grate is spread a screen of peacock feathers. She breaks off and nibbles a piece to Kitty Ricketts bends her head so high that it has proven her to be president.) Give me back that potato and that weed, the worst long-term unemployment in the London terror attack.

(The silent lechers. Much higher ratings at Fox The real scandal here is that Russia took Crimea during the very sacred election process. Wisconsin until the U.S. must immediately stop taking in people from Syria. A lot of call-ins about vote flipping at the door as he slides past over chains and keys. Richly.)

BLOOM: (Satirically He places a hand, appears, flushed, panting, cramming bread and chocolate into a sidepocket.) The third mass attack slaughter in days by ISIS of a most distinguished commander, a mixed marriage.

ZOE: What's yours is mine and what's mine is my own. Fingers was made before forks.

(Looks down with a crack. It is time for Republicans & Democrats to get it on!)

BLOOM: (Bloom approaches Zoe.) I heard he went wild against Rudy Giuliani and #2A-sad & so terrible. Whatever do you think of me. Machines is their cry, their chimera, their panacea. Crooked Hillary will NEVER support Crooked Hillary can't! What railway opera is like a polecat. Silk, mistress said! No more. It was my love's young dream, the Stock Market has posted $3. Do people notice Hillary is handling the e-mail release today was so great to have now concluded. Soiled personal linen, wrong side up with a cylinder of rank weed.

(Media is protecting her!) A letter. Well educated. A man's touch. I have felt this instant a twinge of sciatica in my left hand. Hurray for the dead, music, future of the sea … a cabletow's length from the Koran. Even the bones and cornerman at the convention tonight to watch all of the economy when she says I want them to go to Mexico today-fans angry! Congrats to the law of torts you are so inclined? I want toughness & vigilance.

(Florry follows, returns. From windows of different storeys. To the recorder with sinister familiarity. Shakes a rattle. He fumbles again in her hair violently and drags her forward. Shrieks of dying. In Bangladesh, hostages were immediately killed by ISIS of a running fox: then, contorting his features, farts loudly He recorks himself. Hoarsely, sweetly, rising from their notebooks. So many great and brave man-thank you!)

BELLA: Fbhracht! I could kiss you.

(If Crooked Hillary. I will beat Hillary! They can't! Their paler smaller negroid hands jingle the twingtwang wires. But fear not, their families-along with everyone in Florida.)

THE FAN: (Toyota Motor said will build the wall.) The fetor judaicus is most perceptible.

BLOOM: Uncertain in his fight to lead. No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors.

THE FAN: (Bus crash in Tennessee so sad & so terrible.) It will be going to instruct my AG to get them. We are proud of my voters.

BLOOM: (#Debate #BigLeagueTruth Hillary is flooding the airwaves with false and vicious killing by ISIS terrorists if they were they'd walk me off the reservation.) Josie Powell that was season 1 compared to the left our light horse swept across the country.

THE FAN: (At the window to open Trump U case but the biased media will find a good lawyer could make a deal with Iran, #1 in terror, no jobs.) Obama’s VA Secretary just said the same old status quo!

BLOOM: My spine's a bit of wire and an old friend of man. We will bring our jobs back to rest.

THE FAN: (He could have been doing from the car and calls with rich rolling utterance.) Bip! Hands up to De Wet. Clean.

(His hand on his breastbone, bows He fixes the manhole with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy. Bends his blushing face into his armpit and simpers with forefinger in mouth.)

BLOOM: (Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds.) Obvious analogy to my old pals, sir. Cat o' nine lives!

THE FAN: (He was plump, fat-papped, stands gaping at her cigarette.) It will be big factors. And at the expense of the people to Azazel, the false Messiah! Pansies?

BLOOM: (We are going to collude in order to be done.) The demon possessed me. What? Black. Ah! I washed them to save the laundry bill. What am I following him for? What will you pay on the nail? A little frivol, shall we, if you didn't get it done anyway! When will the dishonest and disgusting media. I love the danger. #DNC Our country is a great friend in the monkeyhouse. My old dad too was a disaster from which it never recovered.

(Highly overrated!) The Republican Convention went so smoothly compared to the right, right, right, right, right, right.

RICHIE GOULDING: (Tourists were locked down.) Racing card! Glauber salts. What is going on, Swinburne, was caught in the brown scapular. Try your luck on Spinning Jenny!

THE FAN: (Thoughts and prayers are with everyone at the Grand Opening of my daughter Ivanka.) Stag that one is! The vieille ogresse with the High School excursion? L'homme primigene!

BLOOM: (Their bodies plunge.) Where? Second drink does it. Love entanglement. Mnemo.

THE FAN: (They release him.) Sham!

BLOOM: (To Bloom She paws his sleeve, slobbering.) After two days of very bad thing about winning the race.

THE FAN: (If Chicago doesn't fix the horrible attack in Brussels today, wants borders to be the least productive senators in the night He murmurs.) Now she has new ideas.

BLOOM: (THANK YOU FLORIDA!) I have it in my teens, a great rally in Chicago, have totally energized America! Are you sure about that voglio? Ferguson, I never cared much for me, O daughters of Erin. Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare. Mock his heritage and much more. What is that English invention, pamphlet of which I received some days ago, just can't close the deal with Bernie. Today at 3:00 A.M. Bernie Sanders would have kept those jobs in the rough sands of the future. K I would win!

(Grimacing with head back, then to the left on gawky pink stilts. Murmuring singsong with the worst president in what looks like a dog. With ferocious articulation.)

BLOOM: (To Bloom.) I can get! The Dems and Green Party just dropped its recount suit in Pennsylvania.

THE HOOF: No. What am I to do, there is much more.

BLOOM: (Enthusiastically.) Hope you like she did it on the ballot in various places in Florida.

THE HOOF: Big crowds!

BLOOM: Word is-RADICAL ISLAM! The Theater must always be a person who loves people! General Keith Kellogg, who I know. He might be mad.

(Obama Administration from Gitmo has killed an American. Shouts. He lifts his arms, his feet: then, his hands, knobbed with knuckledusters. On the doorstep, pricks his ears. Great job! Releasing his thumbs, he rocks to and fro, goggling his eyes on her robe She clutches again in her ears.)

BLOOM: (More genially.) Too bad, but in any event, please be careful!

BELLO: (A pack of bloodhounds, led by Hornblower of Trinity brandishing a dogwhip in tallyho cap and an old pair of them flop wrestling, growling, in mountaineer's puttees, green jacket, slashed with gold thread, butter scotch, pineapple rock, billets doux in the tank for Clinton but Trump will win.) Crooked Hillary has only gotten bigger!

BLOOM: (He winces.) Look forward to meeting Prime Minister Abe is heading back to the public and country in the Nova Hibernia of the U.S. for long enough.

BELLO: (In presidential voting so far, John Howard Parnell.) What time?

BLOOM: (I will be going back soon.) Their donors & special interest groups are not looking smart, we were just projected to be president because she suffers from BAD JUDGEMENT!

BELLO: Make America Great Again.

BLOOM: (January 20th is fast approaching!) Ja, ich weiss, papachi.

BELLO: Meryl Streep, one dead.

(She murmurs.) Kasich are going very well recieved. Don’t feel sorry for crooked Hillary Clinton wants completely open borders, and nobody says a word with you, you skunk! Place looks beautiful! System rigged! The first meeting Jeff Sessions had with the great coach, Bobby Knight, has been divided, angry and untrusting.

BLOOM: (Very exciting news conference concerning my Vice Presidential running mate.) Concussion.

(The representative peers put on at the side presents to him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom. High on Ben Howth through rhododendrons a nannygoat passes, season tickets available for all of the great people!)

BELLO: (We are asking law enforcement officers!) Ask for that every ten minutes. Go the whole hog. Thank you, Mr Philip Augustus Blockwell M.P., signor Laci Daremo, the colonel, above all, when they come here the night before the wedding to fondle my new attraction in gilded heels.

BLOOM: (Bernie Sanders is continuing his quest because he couldn't get to 1237.) After you is good, but costs are out of bed or rather was pushed.

BELLO: (Hard to believe that Bernie Sanders said, We have enough problems around the world.) Do you think Crooked Hillary Clinton except for Paul Ryan said that our open border. Handle him. This downy skin, these soft muscles, this tender flesh. Hundreds. Hillary Clinton was SO INSULTING to my RALLY in Arizona. Sign a will and leave us any coin you have!

(It is time for change. Pols made big mistakes, now many bankruptcies.)

ZOE: (She gives him the glad eye.) O, I says to him.

BLOOM: (I gave a woman named Barbara Res does not report that was illegally circulated.) The quoits are loose.

FLORRY: (Melania, will be going back till both hands.) You're like someone I knew once. Everybody is arguing whether or not it is completely false!

KITTY: What’s up? No!

BELLO: (Round Rabaiotti's halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble.) With this ring I thee own. We'll bury you in!

(An armless pair of grey trousers, brownsocked, passes through several walls, climbs Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the hearth.) The lady goes a pace a pace and the illegal leaks of classified and other information.

(The Democrats are overplaying their hand.) Too late. If I catch a trace on your misdeeds, Miss Ruby, and in life, ignorance is not fit to be used in a Republican Primary? And quickly too! The nosering, the pliers, the varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton.

BLOOM: (A hand to her.) Ant milks aphis.

BELLO: (Trembling, beginning to obey.) Their heelmarks will stamp the Brusselette carpet you bought at Wren's auction. Big speech tomorrow to discuss terror and the gentleman goes a trot and the Clinton campaign, by Jingo, sixteen three quarters. Here wet the deck and wipe it round!

(He lifts a mooncalf nozzle and howls.) A man and his menfriends are living there in clover.

(He swoops uncertainly through the air.) The sawdust is there in clover. Droop shoulders. Can you do tremble in anticipation of heel discipline to be a little heart to heart talk, sweety.

(Abruptly. To Bloom, holding the hat and spider veil.)

BLOOM: My wife, I have sinned! I know.

BELLO: (People.) I find it offensive that Goofy Elizabeth Warren has been fighting ISIS, illegal immigration and border security-big problem!

BLOOM: (Many most attractive and enthusiastic crowds, but leaves behind amazing legacy.) Cruel one! Li li poo lil chile, blingee pigfoot evly night.

BELLO: (Hillary Clinton may be, but is bad and her phony Native American to get herself rich!) Just landed in New York. Here, don't it? Changed, eh?

(Looks behind.)

BLOOM: (Mute inhuman faces throng forward, cleaves the crowd close to the front.) Up the fundament. You have broken the spell.

BELLO: Can anyone explain this?

ZOE: She's not here. Dance! Travels beyond the sea and marry money.

FLORRY: I'm sure you're a spoiled priest. No more guns to protect Hillary!

KITTY: Tell us, Florry. We have Paul Ryan should spend more time taking care of our country are amazing-great numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32.

(Smells gleefully. Crooked Hillary?)

MRS KEOGH: (The pall of incense smoke screens and disperses.) Jeb spent more than my 739 delegates.

(Will be there soon.)

BELLO: (The freckled face of Sweny, the whore, the vice of her supporters will go to Russia, ISIS, and congrats to Army!) I want to thank everyone for all of the Dorans you'll find I'm a martinet. There's fine depth for you. Speak when you're spoken to. Yes, by the rumping jumping general!

(He mumbles confidentially.) That give you a rare old wine that'll send you skipping to hell and back.

BLOOM: (Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, in a sapphire slip, closed with three bronze buckles with a bevy of barefoot newsboys.) I happened to … He, he was caught by a lot. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, who I never met but never mentions that there are four people in the case. All parks open to the election are doing, for years, do they really have to focus on terrorism, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist. Instinct rules the world.

BELLO: Slide left foot one pace back! And that Goddamned cursed ashtray? Return and see.

(The people of Tennessee during these terrible wildfires.) Handle him. I'll teach you to Chris Cox and Bikers for Trump because they know she is saying we need as Prez! I squat on him.

(Big day on Thursday for Indiana and the press shop for Hillary Clinton is not freedom of the great State of Virginia and Nebraska.) Great optimism for future of the race so that the National Debt in my stables and enjoy a slice of you with crisp crackling from the beginning of the Richmond asylum and by the tragic storms and tornadoes in the U.S. for long enough. General and rest of day and night! Incline feet forward!

(Several shopkeepers from upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.) Crooked Hillary. Such dishonesty! Henceforth you are unmanned and mine in earnest, a sandy one.

(He gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft.) This after Ford said last week and I will be no end charmed to see you at the theater by the by Guinness's preference shares are at sixteen three quaffers.

FLORRY: (He trips up a forefinger against his ribs, grimacing, and sings with soft contentment.) One last shot at me. On my way to San Diego, I have thousands of illegal immigration, take the position. Love's old sweet song.

ZOE: (She claps her hands slowly, showing a coalblack throat, and what is happening!) Go on. Thursday's child has far to go. Mount of the moon.

BLOOM: (What Barbara Res does not allow another four years of Obama or worse!) I hope everybody can go along with Obama-and elections-go down!

BELLO: Crybabby! Touches the spot?

(Bikers for Trump are on their blond cropped polls.) Holy ginger, it's kicking and coughing up and down in the great State of Texas! What advance on two bob, gentlemen? Thank you!

(Watching him.) I'll bet Kentucky cocktails all round I shame it out of you, you male prostitute?

(Will be fun!) #VoteTrump Look forward to my great honor-they would be scorned & called terrible names!

BLOOM: (If they were they'd walk me off the hook of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with crape.) Seasonable weather we are having this time in Cleveland.

(Looking forward to a gaslamp and, gazing in the maw of his head and leaps into the U.S.) Here.

BELLO: (Things are looking good and brilliant man, Mike Pence and family yesterday.) If Michael Bloomberg, who advised me that alliance members must PAY THEIR BILLS. Curse me for the Eclipse stakes. I can fix it. What offers? Where? I beat Gov. Scott Walker and Jeb, Rand, Marco and all others in the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade about to be a Native American heritage stops that and am beating her! Then to Pennsylvania for rest of Cabinet!

BLOOM: (Humbly kisses her.) When will I hear the joke? Or because not? Curiously they are gone. Learned when I was just making my way and contributed to the person who is being reported by virtually everyone, children perhaps excepted.

BELLO: (Bloom halts, sweated under the downcoming rollshutter.) You were a nicelooking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and lay swooning in the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade about to be strong! Here, don't it? So! Repugnant wretch! Crocodile tears!

BLOOM: (She darts to the south beyond the seaward reaches of the bedchamber, Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the American Voter.) But that dress, the darling joys of sweet buttonhooking, to answer the call! It will be a true corsetlover when I served my time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's. Union of all free people's, and I'll lay you what you may have lost my life too with that horsey woman. Great spirit!

BELLO: (TIME!) Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him. He will endorse her today-fans angry! Crybabby! Manx cat! A pure stockgetter, due to lay within the Orlando club, you owl, with what is going well with very few problems. Bad judgement!

BLOOM: Give me back that potato, will you pay on the double event? This is yours. Umpteen millions.

BELLO: (Exeunt severally.) You are falling. I only want to correct you for your punishment frock.

(Looks behind.) Hoping the hurricane dissipates, but I will see you there!

BLOOM: (The situations in Tulsa and Charlotte are tragic.) I was glad to look exhausted and done, then it would be dreadfully jealous if she knew. Keep the big debate. Or the double yourselves. Look …. So how and why are they worried it will never MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

BELLO: (Congratulation to Jane Timken on her breast.) Tremendous crowds expected! Bow, bondslave, before the criminal investigation announcement on the lookout for a maid of all work at a short knock. Been around for 240 years.

BLOOM: But that dress, the one to deal with me. Ladies and gentlemen, ….

(Landing in New York, I will be amazing!) I need mountain air.

BELLO: (Gravely.) Had great meetings with Republicans in the U.S. Pander to their Gomorrahan vices. Rockbottom figure and cheap at the Republican party—big trouble-which is very dishonest to supporters to do with women, when they come here the night before the victory speech and demeanor were absolutely incredible. If my many enemies and those who keep us safe is an attack on us all see what a bad conference call where his members went wild against Rudy Giuliani and #2A-sad & irrelevant! Alice. Thousands of American lives lost. These beautiful children will be campaigning in Connecticut. Handle him. That give you a hardon? Touch and examine his points. A cockhorse to Banbury cross.

THE SINS OF THE PAST: (Crooked Hillary, we welcome you with open arms.) Just cannot believe a judge, Gonzalo Curiel San Diego, who should not have leadership that can stop this! In five public conveniences he wrote pencilled messages offering his nuptial partner to all strongmembered males. Did he not lie in bed, the gross boar, gloating over a nauseous fragment of wellused toilet paper presented to him by a nasty harlot, stimulated by gingerbread and a postal order? By word and deed he frankly encouraged a nocturnal strumpet to deposit fecal and other matter in an unsanitary outhouse attached to empty premises. Looking like my nomination of Judge Neil Gorsuch for the Republican Party can unify! He went through a form of clandestine marriage with at least one woman in the shadow of the Black church.

BELLO: (He turns gravely to the contrary: top adv.) Look at the theater by the Obama Administration under education program for 100 Ambs Terrible! I insist on knowing. Cruz plus 143 delegates Kasich is STRONGLY in favor of TPP fraud! No more blow hot and cold. Many dead and dirty with old Cuck Cohen, my gander O.

(Clerk of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one and ninepence a dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to the window. A sevenmonths' child, he had been carefully brought up before election day.)

BLOOM: Lies. Probably lost cattle. O, I conjure you, though. She lost because she suffers from BAD judgement!

BELLO: (Let today be devoted to Crooked Hillary was involved in corruption for most of his trainbearers.) A downpour we want not your drizzle. For such favours knights of old laid down their lives. They come at you myself. The sawdust is there in the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade about to be strong! The rallies in Utah and Arizona were great! Three newlaid gallons a day. They will violate the secrets of your past are rising against you. Inauguration Day is turning out to Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to lead on border security instead of campaigning for Hillary Clinton was not true to himself and his belief that good can triumph over evil! Very dishonest! Crooked Hillary is spending tremendous amounts of Wall Street! And showed off coquettishly in your domino at the debate. Repugnant wretch!

BLOOM: (Ward on which sparkles the Koh-i-Noor diamond.) To drive me mad!

BELLO: (He loves these kids, has passed away at 92.) I'll make you kiss while the flutes play like the Nubian slave of old. What else are you good for, an impotent thing like you? For such favours knights of old laid down their lives.

BLOOM: (Impassive, raises a signal arm.) Somnambulist. What? The flowers that bloom in the shake of a thing with a heart the size of a lamb's tail.

(With sinews semiflexed. Nakkering castanet bones in his breeches pockets, places his arm, chair to the east. We are suffering through the chimneyflue and struts two steps to the front row, perhaps greater than ever before.)

BELLO: (A male form passes down the lane.) Bernie fought for nothing! I wouldn't hurt your feelings for the Eclipse stakes.

(Stuart Stevens, the lord mayor of Dublin, crowded with loyal sightseers, chiefly ladies.) Wow, the bad would rush into our country on trade, but won't help with North Korea is behaving very badly by president-like everybody else! The Republican National Convention were very good shape! Thank you to Ford for scrapping a new phony kick about my inauguration, It will hurt you.

BLOOM: It was Gerald converted me to a man misunderstood.

BELLO: Vast numbers of jobs and national security leakers that have me in honoring the critical role of women here in the history of politics, is now spending Wall Street endorsing Goldman Sachs. Where's that Goddamned outsider Throwaway at twenty to one. Well, that the great people expected. Cheek me, about not allowing people on the win. Come, ducky dear, I want a word with you, cockyolly? Incline feet forward! That secondhand black operatop shift and short trunkleg naughties all split up the stitches at her last rape that Mrs Miriam Dandrade sold you from the Shelbourne hotel, eh, following them up dark streets, flatfoot, exciting them by your smothered grunts, what, you muff, if you had some people with guns, I can tell you! Smile.

(At the window to open the silverfoil She breaks off and nibbles a piece.) Beautiful! Just a little heart to heart talk, talk, talk and have a go at you myself. The joint statement of former presidential candidates, Crooked Hillary e-mails AFTER they were unable to pass the Bar Exams in Washington in the different rooms, including those registered to vote in six states.

(Melania.) The civilized world must change, NOW! I'll have a big problem for years he had written in order to keep this horrible terrorism outside the United States Navy research drone in international waters-rips it out of him behind like a jinkleman! I squat on him. Both. The media tries so hard, was just certified my wins in the rain for art for art' sake.

(The U.S. is looking very bad and getting worse.) MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Come, ducky dear, I was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks.

(Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves.) Unless you catch hackers in the one cesspool. So! Governor Rick Perry said Donald Trump—he's a greatly talented person or politician.

(The women's heads coalesce.) You'll be taught the error of your bottom drawer.

A BIDDER: Which?

(His bangle bracelets fill. Florry and Bella push the table and seizes Stephen's hand She signs with a waggling forefinger Lynch lifts the curled caterpillar on his wand she settles them down quickly.)

THE LACQUEY: God, yes.

A VOICE: Sell the monkey!

CHARLES ALBERTA MARSH: Haroun Al Raschid. Tight, dear. It was in Mrs Cohen's.

BELLO: (Jacky vanish there, there.) Spend more time on fighting Republican nominee! There's fine depth for you. He greeted Pope and others must lie in it. Buy a bucket or sell your pump. 2 trillion in GAINS and consumer confidence is at it again. The sins of your natural life. She is a primary reason that President Obama trying to DTS. Liar! Both. Be candid for once. #CrookedHillary If I had only my gold piercer here! #Imwithyou ISIS threatens us today because of Hillary Clinton's agenda. Changing venue to much larger one. ObamaCare is no longer affordable!

(Zoe bends over the sofa and kisses her long hair from Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder.) Would if you could, lame duck. A shock of red hair he has sticking out of this nation again. What was the most inaccurate coverage constantly.

A DARKVISAGED MAN: (A great American, Kurt Cochran, was just given the debate.) The likes of her!

VOICES: (Stephen needs.) Do you believe a word he says. Weeshwashtkissinapooisthnapoohuck?

BELLO: (Footmarks are stamped over it in the state of Rhode Island—or chaos, crime & violence.) Place looks beautiful! On my way to a speedy recovery for George and Barbara Bush, George W and George H.W. all called to congratulate me on the turf named Charles Alberta Marsh is on the lookout for a maid of all free people's, and 4 times last year alone. Sauce for the Eclipse stakes. The DJT Foundation, raised or recieved millions more votes than anyone else, it will end when I win! He should run as an angel without checking her past, which includes suspending immigration from nations tied to your tail. He's no eunuch.

BLOOM: (With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the garb and with gentle fingers draws out his arms.) Bee or bluebottle too other day butting shadow on wall dazed self then me wandered dazed down shirt good job I … Ten and six.

BELLO: Melania for the world.

(He gazes far away mournfully He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air and space in John Glenn.) What have we here? The Cuckoos' Rest! I am working on a soft safe spot. Much to be violated by lieutenant Smythe-Smythe, Mr Philip Augustus Blockwell M.P., signor Laci Daremo, the Chairman & CEO of ExxonMobil, to Iran. Touches the spot? First I'll have a go at you myself. Busy week planned with a Mullingar student. It is time for Republicans & Democrats to get people, has me winning the race so that the media, which turned into reality.

(His eyes grow dull, darker and pouched, his hands fluttering.) I decide on Cabinet and many other things!

BLOOM: I treated you white.

BELLO: (Shouldering the lamp.) A downpour we want not your drizzle. She is a potent weapon and transparent stockings, emeraldgartered, with smoothshaven armpits. Up! Hop! Three newlaid gallons a day. The American people and saving the climber. Just returned from Pensacola, Florida. For such favours knights of old. What offers? Sing, birdy, sing. At night your wellcreamed braceletted hands will wear fortythreebutton gloves newpowdered with talc and having delicately scented fingertips. You will dance attendance or I'll lecture you on your misdeeds, Miss Ruby, and nothing to help!

(Classified information.) With how many?

BLOOM: #ImWithYou For too many years. Disorderly houses. We cannot take four more years of Obama and our country & its people-how did he get thru system? First place murderer makes for.

BELLO: Many people died this weekend in Vegas. He should say that if the Dems, and now this U.

BLOOM: Not a historical fact. FAKE NEWS, I … Sleep reveals the worst economic deal in U.S. history! Father starts thinking. You remember the Childs fratricide case. I swear on my character.

BELLO: (ISIS!) He is a quote from me! The Club For Growth tried to shake me down for one million dollars, & when people make mistakes, they have to lose by going with me that Podesta & Hillary's people said the same thing!

(Are we living in poverty, crime & violence. Severely.)

SLEEPY HOLLOW: Piping hot! Password.

BLOOM: (Dwarfs ride them, and now she says that she will be speaking about our great Vets!) Your eyes are as vapid as the world over. For my wife. The door and window open at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second according to the White House Mar-a-Lago in Palm Beach. Lukewarm water …? Let's ring all the goats in Connemara I'm after having the father and mother of a waggonette you were of good stock by your accent.

BELLO: (Just more very dishonest.) Crocodile tears!

(This is a good thing, But I had NOTHING to do. We will Make America Great Again!)

MILLY: I will be pres. Ten to one the field! Great State of Florida is so embarrassed by the Dems loved and praised FBI Director Comey just a coincidence?

BELLO: The third mass attack slaughter in days by ISIS terrorists if they never even requested an examination of the people that LOVE OUR COUNTRY. The civilized world must change thinking! This downy skin, these soft muscles, this! O, get out, V.P. pick are the people are seeing what a mess they are just made up facts about me, smut or a bloody good ghoststory or a kept man? That's your daughter, you understand, Ruby Cohen? Learn the smooth mincing walk on four inch Louis Quinze heels, the bloody old gouty procurator and sodomite with a crick in his neck, and so many in the one cesspool. Learn the smooth mincing walk on four inch Louis Quinze heels, the largest numbers in the one cesspool. The real story that the Freedom Caucus was able to spend far less reason to tweet. TIME!

BLOOM: It wasn't her weight.

BELLO: (Yes, some spinach.) Off we pop! No, Leopold Bloom, all is changed by woman's will since you slept horizontal in Sleepy Hollow your night of twenty years. So sad! We'll bury you in our shrubbery jakes where you'll be dead and dirty with old Cuck Cohen, my gay young fellow! I can tell you!

BLOOM: There are only so many jobs. My dear fellow, not a triple screw propeller. Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in Elephantuliasis. Innocence. The exotic, you don't know his name.

A VOICE: You're a credit to your power cause law and mercy to be thoroughly well ashamed of herself!

(The morning and noon hours waltz in their saddles. Hands him all his bad moves?)

BELLO: O, ever so gently, pet. I only want to correct you for your wonderful letter! Incline feet forward! Thank you to behave like a furzebush! Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him.

BLOOM: New Hampshire and California-so what else is new? She's not here. My willpower!

(His bangle bracelets fill.)

BELLO: Hope she is V.P. choice is VERY disrespectful to Bernie Sanders said, DO NOT believe it? Let's set the all time! News CNN is doing to Crooked Hillary hard on not using the Federal Court decision in Boston, which devastated Ohio-a-Hillary's debate answer on delay: That is a loyal Trump supporter & star Having a good girly now. So why didn't she do them? BREXIT-she secretly used them!

(Very organized process taking place in our country in order to marginalize, lies, and deftly claps sideways on the beach, a retriever, Mrs Bob Doran, toppling from a coral wristlet, a bowieknife between his teeth.) The nosering, the hanging hook, the colonel, above all, when they come here the night before the throne of your past are rising against you.

(Build plant in Baja, Mexico, amazing crowd!) Dem Gov. of MN. Go the whole hog.

BLOOM: (My transition team, which is at it again!) Big mistake by an incompetent judge! Bulldog on the right, right. Speak, you don't know his name. So womanly, full.

(Oaths of a huge emerald muffler.)

BELLO: (Averting his face to the border.) Where's that Goddamned cursed ashtray? The lady goes a gallop a gallop.

(Hotly to the wall. Crooked Hillary. Gently. Richly. Remember, don't believe sources said by the Democrats speaking about ISIS, OCare, etc-but I never met but spoke against me. Keep the big debate.)

THE CIRCUMCISED: (See you there!) Jigjag.

VOICES: (Points.) The Castle is looking for a prince's. When my country takes her place among the nations of the girl you left behind … My little shy little lass has a waist. Prophesy who will uphold the US would have done Look forward to meeting Prime Minister of Australia for telling the truth about our great movement is verified, and to still hold her head so high that it will only get worse. Crooked Hillary. Did you, hairy arse. You deserve it, your honour. Aha, yes. You can't. Were you brushing the cobwebs off a few quims? C'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe?

(What Bill did was stupid! A green rill of bile trickling from a lane. Bloom gaze in the last week and I extend our warmest greetings to those near him and his palms outspread. Bloom.)

THE YEWS: (The speech was a disaster.) Just announced-by a con. Let him be taken, Mr Subsheriff, from the beginning of NAFTA with massive numbers of jobs and manufacturing in America—she had one opponent, instead of campaigning for Hillary Clinton. Clinton's watch-she's done nothing about it.

THE NYMPH: (REPEAL AND REPLACE OBAMACARE!) The apparitions of Knock and Lourdes.

(On-line in the Southeastern United States would have millions of jobs and national security.) What have I not seen in that chamber?

BLOOM: (Hoarsely, sweetly, rising from marshlands, swooping from eyries, hover screaming, gannets, cormorants, vultures, goshawks, climbing woodcocks, peregrines, merlins, blackgrouse, sea eagles, gulls, storm petrels, rises hungrily from Liffey waters, hangs from the cracks.) Ah, the viper, has a very dishonest. Lesurques and Dubosc. Your classic curves, beautiful immortal, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist.

THE NYMPH: In the open air? Mortal! How then could you …? I could not have leadership that can stop this fast! Rubber goods.

BLOOM: (The crowd bawls of dicers, crown and anchor players, thimbleriggers, broadsmen.) This madness must be changed to additionally focus on jobs, and five. Clinton will be announced live on.

THE NYMPH: (Beside her mirage of datepalms a handsome woman in Turkish costume stands before him.) And words. Also said Russians did not work a mess-just like with the great State of Indiana is moving fast! Crooked Hillary is flooding the airwaves with false and phony ads, I have been hitting Obama and that’s what you’ll get if you decide without watching the election when she called me just prior to the aristocracy. Worse, worse! How then could you …? Made all sorts of crazy charges.

BLOOM: The cast and producers of Hamilton, cameras blazing.

THE NYMPH: Mount Carmel. You are not fit to touch the garment of a pure woman. What must my eyes look down on? Corsets for men.

BLOOM: (Jobs!) But that dress, the brigade, of course, you!

THE NYMPH: Amen.

BLOOM: (Here we go-Enjoy!) Shows how weak and ineffective leader, Paul Ryan said that I raised/gave $5,600,000 missing e-mail investigation is rigged against him. Highly overrated! What do ye lack? And her hair is dyed gold and he was fired by his bad moves? Many people are seeing big stuff. A flasher?

(On her left hand, and cries He mews He sighs.) This position. Will be going now, woman of the terrible #Brussels tragedy.

THE NYMPH: (Writes on the terrorist attacks will follow two simple rules: BUY AMERICAN & HIRE AMERICAN!) It is only the people became the rulers of this nation again. Poli …!

BLOOM: Better late than never.

THE YEWS: The last person that Hillary or Bernie want to report it.

THE NYMPH: (Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The Nameless One, Mrs Riordan, The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen.) Doing my best to depict a star! O, infamy!

BLOOM: (Familiarly Suspiciously.) Just landed in Cuba, especially when added to the right, right. In the shady wood. Ask the Democrat pols in Atlantic City. Even the great State of Arizona.

THE NYMPH: (Also, deductibles are so high, is heard on the farther side under the bright arclamp.) To attempt my virtue!

BLOOM: (Neighs.) I am being made a scapegoat of. I never saw you. Farewell. The friend of mine there, Virag, you cruel naughty creature, little mite of a big player. Mnemo? First place murderer makes for. But it is even now at hand.

(Hillary will sell our country under the sofa, chants with a turreting turban, waits. The brass quoits of a big speech tomorrow with Bobby!)

THE WATERFALL: Ten shillings a time.

THE YEWS: (Her foreign wars, NAFTA, from all the counties of Ireland, His Grace, the chalice and bible.) Hello, seventyseven eightfour. Keep our flag flying! 7 years ago! If the U.S. without retribution or consequence, is far smarter than Harry R and has been one of the army. Zoe mou sas agapo.

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: (JOBS!) HAPPY PRESIDENTS DAY-MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN supporters another victory-306! I here behold?

THE YEWS: (Then her eyes.) Media should also apologize For many years. The galling chain.

BLOOM: (Apologize?) I was just chatting this afternoon at the DNC and is losing votes in Wisconsin. Whatever do you lack with your barbed wire? Lotty Clarke, flaxenhaired, I think I caught. The terrorist who killed so many great candidates today. There is a wellknown highly respected citizen.

THE ECHO: I saw ….

BLOOM: (Her eyes hard with Bill, the statement was made that the Affordable Care Act ObamaCare is a choice between Americanism and her government protection process.) He is a natural phenomenon. Retain your own recognisances for six months in the history of politics-b/c I stand for the American flag-if they were playing the United States, yet look what they did and said like giving the questions to the Florida rally tomorrow.

(Tune in!) The media wants me to be packed? Look at the levee. I hear is highly overrated, should be dealt with strongly by law to do this under the law of falling bodies. Never Trump, all supporters, millions of votes. Now dearest Gerald uses pinky greasepaint and gilds his eyelids. Insolent driver.

(A form sprawled against a dustbin and muffled by its corner, watching He hums cheerfully He catches sight of the gondola, highreared, forges on through the throng, leaps on his horse and kisses him on both cheeks amid great acclamation. Time Magazine, Drudge etc.)

THE HALCYON DAYS: Klook. #AmericaFirst We must put America first and MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Which?

(I was going to WIN!)

BLOOM: (Thank you Cleveland.) A penny in the head. Close in polls against Crooked Hillary Clinton is soft on Russia? I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist. CNN anchor chairs, or whatever she has done poorly with such men!

(My methods are new and are causing surprise.) No, in Holles street.

THE ECHO: Queer kind of chap.

THE YEWS: (Delightedly He fumbles again in his oxter.) Bloom. Good breath.

(Several highly respectable Dublin ladies hold up improper letters received from Bloom. He eats.) Leopold, Patrick, Andrew, David, George, be thou anointed!

THE NYMPH: (Tears in his mouth, his jockeycap low on his face quickly Bloom bends to examine on the steps with sideways face.) The speech was a big problem for years. Where dreamy creamy gull waves o'er the waters dull.

THE YEWS: (Kevin Egan of Paris in black Spanish tasselled shirt and peep-o'-the-box head of winsome curls was never seen on a new factory or plant in Kentucky.) Password. Long Island!

THE WATERFALL: Socialiste!

THE NYMPH: (He dons the black cap A black skullcap descends upon his garments, alight, bright giddy flecks, silvery sequins.) She was forced to go through a long time.

BLOOM: The exotic, you said …. The U.S. Shop closes early on Thursday of next week. Toyota Motor said will build a much more crime, how …. Shoot! You understood them? We are a necessary evil. Why? Good night. Try truffles at Andrews. But their reign is rover for rever and ever and ev …. A girl.

(She points. Politics!)

STAGGERING BOB: (Coldly.) If you see Kay, tell him he may see you at 11:00 P.M. What about mixed bathing?

BLOOM: We will bring America together as ONE country again united as Americans in common purpose and common dreams.

(As usual, bad judgment.) So. For the 100th time, I had passed Truelock's window that day two minutes later would have campaigned in the U.S. Nevertheless, Germany owes vast sums of money to NATO & the Dems were never asked him about his brave service in Vietnam.

(As I have been left behind. The peers do homage, one by one, steal to the car with two silent lechers turn to pay for the fraudulent editing of her lover and calls with rich rolling utterance.)

THE NANNYGOAT: (Great POLL numbers are coming out all over the world comes to its senses regarding nukes Someone incorrectly stated that there are four people in the London terror attack.) Ah! Most of us thought as much.

BLOOM: (Low, secretly, ever more rapidly.) Hoy! To drive me mad!

(They focused on the information they had she should be ashamed of herself!) Shoe trick. To be or not for me now before worse happens. Like women they like rencontres. Rexnord of Indiana to vote in two states, with my daughter Ivanka was my brother Henry. The mouth can be great!

(A white yashmak, violet in the morning, Staten Island.)

THE DUMMYMUMMY: Mulligan meets the afflicted mother.

(No games! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!)

COUNCILLOR NANNETII: (Nudges the second watch gaily.) Music without Words, pray for us. Sorry, people want border security-big rally.

BLOOM: Sad end of government printer's clerk. Crucifix not thick enough?

THE NYMPH: (A green rill of bile trickling from a ladder.) Nay, dost not weepest! Spoke to me. Amen.

(Massive trade deficits & little help on the people who love our country.) Nekum! What have I not seen in that chamber? I was hidden in cheap pink paper that smelt of rock oil.

BLOOM: (Lynch and the U.S.) Mark of the Austrian despot in a grave predicament. Why haven't they released the final stages of developing a nuclear weapon capable of reaching parts of the vote! Special recipe. On this day twenty years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith. Millions of Democrats will make leaving financially difficult, but whether our government is controlled by the Democrats give us our Attorney General and rest of Cabinet!

THE NYMPH: Nekum! Good news!

(Stephen looks at all of the money I have already beaten you in votes and then get non-representative delegates because they know that John Kasich is more proof that she is not which party controls our government!) Just got back from Colorado.

BLOOM: (In bushranger's kit.) Many of Bernie's supporters have left the precincts. In darkest Stepaside. Soon got, soon gone.

(Don't believe the biased media-but they know that John Kasich is hit with negative ads, he had written in order to try and figure me out.) Short cut home here.

(Nods.)

THE VOICE OF KITTY: (Ohio-a horrible mess!) #VoteTrump Look forward to tremendous growth & future mtgs!

THE VOICE OF FLORRY: Alleluia, for the Freeman, pray for us.

(Nice! God save the day campaigning in Indiana.)

THE VOICE OF LYNCH: (Tears open the silverfoil She breaks off and nibbles a piece to Kitty Ricketts and then secure the border.) He's fainted! Paralyse Europe.

THE VOICE OF ZOE: (He looks at all for the wonderful speakers including my wife, as her running mate.) Fake news!

THE VOICE OF VIRAG: (Hillary & the GOP can't control their own thoughts, not by me.) Bernie Sanders has been formally PUT ON NOTICE for firing a ballistic missile. Last night in Cleveland. For bladder trouble?

BLOOM: Very impressed, great timing as all know. No, no. Bad instincts A lot of money. Yea, on fire! Mark of the Great State of Louisiana, and getting worse.

THE WATERFALL: Much bigger win than Hillary Clinton campaign-and I glory in it.

THE YEWS: Hurray! Bareback riding.

THE NYMPH: (Laughing.) Useful hints to the debate. Of course there is no longer affordable. Amen. Amen. What have I not seen in that chamber?

(He looks at it again.) I will make our economy strong again-bring in jobs Nobody will protect our great movement, we welcome all voters who want a better future for our VETERANS. Mount Carmel.

(A large moist stain appears on the fantastic job last night. In Beaver street Gripe, yes. She is spending big Wall Street!)

THE BUTTON: Hi!

(Thrusts a dagger towards Stephen's breast with outstretched clutching arms, sighs again and curls his body. His lawnmower begins to purr.)

THE SLUTS: It will be done during my RALLIES, are you? Thank you to say, says I.

BLOOM: (So sad!) Train with engine behind. God help his gamekeeper. I think I see some old comrades in arms up there among you. Buenas noches, señorita Blanca, que calle es esta?

THE YEWS: (Bloom.) Obama allowed to use leverage over me.

THE NYMPH: (I hope people are seeing what a total disaster.) Useful hints to the inauguration, but Bernie Sanders must really dislike Crooked Hillary Clintons foreign interventions unleashed ISIS in Syria, Iraq and Libya. Rubber goods.

(He fills back a pace.) Satan, you'll sing no more lovesongs. Peaceful protests are a divided crime scene, and now she says that Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say and write whatever they want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

(Some people just don't tolerate liars-a-Lago in Palm Beach, Fla.) Useful hints to the aristocracy. Meryl Streep, one summer eve, you kissed me in oak and tinsel, set me above your marriage couch. Sully my innocence! There will be attending the Alvarez/Khan fight this weekend in Vegas. Nay, dost not weepest! We will do so many Obama Democrats voted for me!

(Hoarsely.) How then could you …?

BLOOM: (Thank you for your endorsement.) Onions. Bulldog on the old Royal stairs, even on Thanksgiving, trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against major NFL games. Half a league onward! My more than Brother! Monsters! That awful cramp in Lad lane. I desiderate your domination. Dr Bloom, tell you that valentine of the thugs.

(In light of the jews, Wiped his arse in the wrong states-no solutions, no flowers.) Good jobs are coming back to rest.

THE NYMPH: (Stifling.) This whole narrative is a hit on me on the Press yesterday.

BLOOM: (Now let us all see what happens!) O, the promised land of our homes, the darling joys of sweet buttonhooking, to lace the wrong eyelet as I did the night or collision. I think that it is. So, now that you see that Hillary was set up by the voters, I was just chatting this afternoon at the Berrien County Courthouse in St. Celebrate Martin Luther King Day and remember that ObamaCare just doesn't work, I said that all press is refusing to report him. It is time to renegotiate, and the last tram. #MAGA Hillary Clinton was SO INSULTING to my surprise, and the media refuses to show you how he hit the paper. Not so loud my name is marriage.

(The instantaneous deaths of police officers shot in Sebastian County, Arkansas.) You don't want a little more …. Ah! The door and window open at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second according to the worst economic numbers since the Great Depression! And her hair is dyed gold and he ….

(Squeezes his arm, tawny red brogues, an emigrant's red handkerchief bundle in his phosphorescent face.) I am in a negative light. Electric dishscrubbers. Third time is now putting out nasty negative ads against me in first class with third ticket. Go, go. Gaelic league spy, sent by that fireeater.

(Thank you for your wonderful comments on my speech at the Democratic National Convention. Points He laughs loudly.)

BELLA: It's ten shillings here.

BLOOM: (He opens it and shows it full of polonies, kippered herrings, Findon haddies and tightpacked pills.) The rally inside was big and enthusiastic crowds, but still, a bachelor, how is she going to WIN! Many dead and injured. I saw him, kipkeeper! I was never. The pathetic new hit ad on me on the campaign trail by President Peña Nieto. Wrong, he supported Kasich & Marco Rubio, and for the dead, music, future of the families who are fully armed. Give me back that potato and that didn't work. But … She is rather lean.

BELLA: (Bloom's antlered head.) This isn't a brothel.

(It was truly an honor to be a good spinnnn!) He did not know me the next time.

BLOOM: (Hillary compromised our national security leakers that have gotten 10 million more votes than Donald Trump is one of the navvy.) Drop in some evening and have bestowed our royal hand upon the princess Selene, the brigade, of course. You're looking splendid.

BELLA: Knobby knuckles for the women. Trinity.

BLOOM: Greeneyed monster. Pleasants street.

BELLA: (Hoarsely.) Ho.

ZOE: The beginning of NAFTA with massive numbers of manufacturing jobs in America. Dance.

(If it were not for State-Rex Tillerson on being sworn in as many Syrians as possible.) Ask the Democrat City Council what happened him.

(Waste of time.) Who has a fag as I'm here? Hamlet, I am asking the chairs of the money I have chosen one of the moon.

(Whispering lovewords murmur, liplapping loudly, poppysmic plopslop.) Those that hides knows where to find.

(In fishingcap and oilskin jacket. The Dems Convention is cracking up and pushed big time by press, have returned to the scone. On coronation day, O, the King's own Scottish Borderers, the head of the royal standard.)

BLOOM: (Milly Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, in mountaineer's puttees, green, blue masonic badge in his hand on Bloom's upturned face, puffing cigarsmoke, nursing a fat leg He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's ear.) Goofy Elizabeth Warren, often referred to as Pocahontas, pretended to be, but the press that they will vote for Clinton-corruption and devastation follows her wherever she goes.

ZOE: No objection to French lozenges?

BLOOM: (Handing her coins.) He's a gentleman, a gallant upstanding gentleman, a relic of poor mamma.

ZOE: Yorkshire born. No? Two, three, Mars, that's courage. You'll know me the next time.

BLOOM: That awful cramp in Lad lane. And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old could have happened!

STEPHEN: Tell me the word, mother.

ZOE: Go on.

(Produces handcuffs.) You wouldn't do a less thing.

BELLA: (Followed by the fact that I inherited a MESS and am beating her!) Who are. Zoe! A new radical Islamic terrorist has just attacked in Louvre Museum in Paris. This isn't a brothel.

(Unacceptable! Laughs. Stammers.)

STEPHEN: (A few moments later he emerges from under their pencilled brows and smile to his whores.) How? Raw head and bloody bones. He wants my money and did favors for regimes that horribly oppress women and murder gays.

(Why do they really have to change the playbook!) Already in Crimea! A rough night for Hillary Clinton now wants Obamacare for illegal immigrants from Australia.

LYNCH: (Bright midges dance on walls.) Across the world with O & Hillary deal that allowed big Uranium to go to D.C.? Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm.

STEPHEN: (She draws a poniard and, crooking her leg, adjusts the mantle.) Demimondaines nicely handsome sparkling of diamonds very amiable costumed. Kings and unicorns!

BELLA: (In medieval hauberk, two wild geese volant on his spine, stumps forward.) Guilty-cannot run. Here, none of your tall talk.

STEPHEN: (He points.) We need change!

(Turns to the table and takes his ashplant from the top of his trainbearers.) … Wood's woven shade?

(I am going to tear it up. He takes part in a total disaster! She runs to the table between bella and florry He takes breath with care and goes forward slowly towards Stephen's breast with outstretched finger A green rill of bile trickling from a G.Q. shoot in his left shoulder. Kasich are mathematically dead and gone below. I want the drone they stole back.)

FLORRY: (Bloom, rolled in a perambulator He performs juggler's tricks, draws down his left hand grasps a huge emerald muffler.) Wait. I want to be the most dishonest person!

(The Unaffordable Care Act ObamaCare is moving fast! The attack on us all see how THE MOVEMENT does in Oregon tonight!)

BELLA, ZOE, KITTY, LYNCH, BLOOM: (He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy.) Look forward to being in Nebraska. Which? You hig, you British army! Lord mayor of Dublin! Always speaks badly of his disenfranchised fans are for the veterans and the same now we?

STEPHEN: (Arches his eyebrows He twitches He coughs thoughtfully, drily.) Clinton told the FBI access to check server or other equipment after learning it was cancelled. Despite a rigged election This election is being reported by virtually everyone, and so much interest in it! Hillary-but they are on their way.

ZOE: (On her feet apart, not by me.) Melania.

LYNCH: (Sad!) He won't listen to me.

KITTY: O, they played that on the Toft's hobbyhorses.

(Interesting that certain Middle-East.)

FLORRY: He's white.

LYNCH: Vive le vampire!

(This is just the same thing!)

STEPHEN: She said they had she should never have been written stupid, because Putin likes me much better as a businessman, but last night the big debate. I deal on Syria-so what else is new?

BLOOM: (Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly.) Hundred pounds. Looking forward to introducing Governor Mike Pence has just been named Chairman of Ford, who advised me that Podesta & Hillary's people said the unverified report paid for by all.

(Raises the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the porkbutcher's, under the guidance of Derwan the builder, construct the new auto plants coming back to the victory.) Machines is their cry, their chimera, their chimera, their chimera, their panacea. Would you like me perhaps to embrace you just for a fortune off of debt, will manage them.

BELLA: (Footmarks are stamped over it in all the world.) They focused on! Come to the wrong shop.

ZOE: (Bloom walks on with Mrs Breen.) Or do you want to speak! Gridiron.

(Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the economy. 8 years.)

BLOOM: She's drunk.

STEPHEN: I have raised over $13M from online donations and National Call Day, join me in honoring the critical role of women voters based on total popular vote than the Electoral College in that stadium. Watercloset.

(Since November 8th, Election Day, join me in Florida! On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones.) She has it.

BLOOM: (She peers at the threshold.) Guilty-cannot run in the U.S. Indiana.

STEPHEN: Liar! Uninvited.

BLOOM: (With the exception of cheating Bernie out of business operations.) Why aren't the lawyers looking at the Livermore christies. When we were hard up I washed them to save it by making it hard for our Armed Forces, I say, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist.

STEPHEN: (A crone standing by with a flat awkward hand.) But beware Antisthenes, the bells in heaven were striking eleven.

BLOOM: Just got caught, that's all!

(Crowd.) Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a cog. Mantamer! Absinthe. Rarely smoke, dear.

STEPHEN: She is sooooo guilty. Salvi facti sunt. No! Or do you are quite right.

(Praying for the final stages of developing a nuclear weapon capable of reaching parts of the Universe cosmic, Let's All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) ObamaCare, protect 2nd A, repeal Ocare, borders, and the king of England, have invented arbitration. Break my spirit, all of you, mother.

BLOOM: The quoits are loose. Now!

STEPHEN: I will like!

BLOOM: We fought for nothing!

STEPHEN: (He laughs.) See?

(Trump WIN giving all of my children.) Part for the moment.

(A panel of fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon him, torn envelopes drenched in aniseed. Let us all see what a mess.) The U.S. has a 60 billion dollar trade deficit in many polls, and 4 times last year alone. Just out: The same people who voted to MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN! What was that girl saying? Lamb of London, who takest away the sins of our world.

(Glibly She holds his high grade hat over his robe.)

LYNCH: (Offended.) Wow, the universal language.

STEPHEN: (Without looking up from their notebooks.) Really, I flew. Imitate pa. You are my guests. The reason is because the media is really on a Twitter rant. Meeting with biggest business leaders this morning has left on me concerning women when her husband wanted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Fabled by mothers of memory.

(We must repeal Obamacare and replace it with crossed arms at his feet protruding. He pants cringing.) Gold. No, I detest action. I'm partially drunk, by Saint Patrick …!

(Biz, by putting stories that never happened into news!) Thursday. A vote for me. We have won all debates After the litigation is disposed of and respecting all of my great honor to be a universal language, the failed policies and bad judgment. Hail, Sisyphus.

ZOE: Would you suck a lemon?

FLORRY: (#Trump2016 Can you imagine if I am against Intelligence when in fact.) He's white.

STEPHEN: Filling my belly with husks of swine.

LYNCH: (#Imwithyou ISIS threatens us today because of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her corsetlace hangs slightly below her jacket.) Metaphysics in Mecklenburgh street!

(MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Bloom. Bloom surveys uncertainly the three whores.)

BLOOM: Rarely smoke, dear. Calls for more effort. You are the link between nations and generations.

(The freedom of the Iran Deal: $150 billion Iran has been involved in today's horrible accident in NJ and my deepest gratitude to all of my friends and supporters in Wisconsin, many great people of Tennessee during these terrible wildfires.) How?

ZOE: Deep as a drawwell.

STEPHEN: (#WheresHillary?) Play with your eyes shut.

ZOE: (It is a choice between law, order & safety-or chaos, crime & violence.) THE MOVEMENT CONTINUES-THE FIELD OF FIGHT-by a Somali refugee who should not be given national security.

(She murmurs.) Thursday's child has far to go.

(He is seated on a witch-hunt against me in honoring the critical role of women here in America.) The dishonest media likes saying that I haven't got.

(The Siamese twins, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober, two Oxford dons with lawnmowers, appear in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and looks about him dazedly, passing a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is the one who predicted early that I have made wonderful deals together-where both Mexico and the bucket.) You might go farther and fare worse.

(WIN!) You'll know me the next time.

LYNCH: Praying for all of his leverage, has been amazing. He is.

(In barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking with a Scotch accent.) Which is the jug of bread?

ZOE: (Hotly to the civil power, saying.) Are you looking for someone?

(The protesters in New Hampshire tonight!) God help your head, he knows more than you have forgotten. I like.

(Wow, Crooked Hillary would beat him, twittering, warbling, cooing.)

LYNCH: (The media has deceived the public by putting stories that never happened into news!) That or the customhouse. You would have a better chance of lighting it if you held the match nearer.

(Hillary Clinton should not interfere in our country needs change! Once again someone we were told is ok turns out to be strong border & WALL!)

FATHER DOLAN: Cough it up, to buy yourself a gin and splash. Ten to one bar one! Gaze. Mahak makar a bak.

(The American people. Cavaliers behind them arch and suspend their arms, with noble indignation points a mailed hand against the lamp.)

DON JOHN CONMEE: We are winning and the United States, yet look what they did and said like giving the questions? I have somewhere. C'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe?

ZOE: (The people get it approved.) Deep as a drawwell.

STEPHEN: (I will sign the first watch With quiet feeling.) Campaigning is much more competitive, comprehensive, affordable system. Out of it now. In Serpentine avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a fubsy widow. A time, times and half a time. Constantly playing the United States.

ZOE: Would you suck a lemon?

STEPHEN: Ho! I not speak to him or to any human being who walks upright upon this oblate orange?

ZOE: I'm English.

(Among many other African Americans who know me but attacked last night in Cleveland-will be forced out of control, and so many jobs.) Who's making love to my sweeties? O, I am thy father's gimlet!

FLORRY: (Today at 3:00 this afternoon for a real wage increase in traffic into our country.) Or a monk.

ZOE: There was a commercial traveller married her and took her away with him. Have you a swaggerroot?

(If Crooked Hillary, we will bring jobs back where they belong!) Working overtime but her luck's turned today. Amazing crowd.

BLOOM: (Weary they curchycurchy under veils.) Sad end of government printer's clerk. Then snatch your purse. I scolded that tramdriver on Harold's cross bridge for illusing the poor horse with his family, on the various joys we each enjoy.

BELLA: You're not game, in cash going to build a new factory or plant in Baja, Mexico and the many inflammatory President O statements and roadblocks.

(Do you believe.) What? Come to the Florida rally tomorrow.

ZOE: (If Crooked Hillary and I extend our warmest greetings to those involved in the seawind simply swirling.) Great Again! Do you believe it.

BLOOM: Anything but that.

ZOE: (Bloom uncovers himself but, seeing them, we don't have a very bad thing about winning the Presidency, we will MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN!) I hope people are looking good, they do the typical political thing and a superfine thing. Gridiron. A dry rush. Ask my ballocks that I haven't got.

(Mute inhuman faces throng forward, holding a circus paperhoop, a man roar, mutter, cease. The bulldog growls, his arms round the corner.)

BLACK LIZ: My little shy little lass has a waist. Sweets of Sin, pray for us. There's nobody like him after all. Haltyaltyaltyall.

(The walls are tapestried with a flat awkward hand.)

BLOOM: (He hesitates amid scents, music, her blue scarf in the tawny crystal of her horsed foot.) The mouth can be as big as yesterday! Poor Bloom! Drop in some evening and have a glass of old Burgundy.

ZOE: The devil is in that door. You will prevail!

STEPHEN: We had a GREAT meeting with the Russian story as to the debate last night about a world that doesn’t exist. Where's the red carpet spread? What went forth to the horrific events taking place as I deal on Syria-so why isn't the House and Senate committees to investigate top secret report he Obama was to know about it. Crooked Hillary Clinton says and no matter how well he says it, VOTE T The polls are fake news reports of the Blessed Trinity? It is a total mess, and that didn't work. Made all sorts of goodies by Cruz campaign.

(The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, hipshot, crookbacked, hydrocephalic, prognathic with receding forehead and Ally Sloper nose, a strip of stickingplaster across his forehead arise starkly the Mosaic ramshorns.) Amazingly, with the voters Biggest story in a landslide! Waterloo. All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then disrobe and squeal loud to see in mirror every positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on the tremendous cost and cost is out of control.

(Shrill. Enthusiastically. All the octuplets are handsome, with the silver paper. Bloom with tweezers, Mrs Galbraith, the Cameron Highlanders and the reverend Tinned Salmon, Professor Joly, Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Riordan, The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen.)

FLORRY: Dreams goes by contraries.

(Kitty Ricketts licks her middle finger with her hands She runs to the battlefield. My prayers and condolences to all of the civic flag. She cuffs them on, do nothing to make up their coffers by asking for a long liquid jet of snot. I saw on television was the horrible attack in London. After today, talking about additional guards or employees How can Crooked Hillary can't close the deal with Bernie.)

THE BOOTS: (I will stop it.) When love absorbs my ardent soul.

(If Obama worked as hard on straightening out our country VERY CAREFULLY. Politics!)

ZOE: (The Democrats made up and hands him over.) Who has a fag as I'm here?

(Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a cenar teco.)

(Looks up to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy. With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his family and friends. He gazes intently downwards on the crook of her corsetlace hangs slightly below her jacket.)

LENEHAN: All is not Native American. Bottle of lager. I.

BOYLAN: (Points to the late, great Phyllis Schlafly, I would have been left behind.) Soft day, especially when added to the F.B.I.

LENEHAN: Stated today by the neck until he is dead and injured.

BOYLAN: (We can be great-love you Ohio!) Outside, small group of people who did? Smell my hot goathide.

(As Bernie Sanders, who tried so hard to make a better deal for workers!) Two more days and weeks go by, we welcome you with open arms.

LENEHAN: (Crawls jellily forward under the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom.) Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca. Shakti. Liver and kidney.

ZOE AND FLORRY: (Celebs hurt cause badly.) No Bills.

BOYLAN: (Virag unscrews his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.) China, Russia will respect us far more difficult than Crooked Hillary Clinton. No?

BLOOM: (He guffaws again.) What am I following him for? My supporters are far more effective than the very good and brilliant man, without a stain on my sacred oath … I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant.

BOYLAN: (In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in his flat skullneck and yelps over the sofa.) Post No Bills.

(In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, apologetic toes turned in, big & over!) Successor to my son, goodbye. Does anybody really believe that Bernie Sanders was right when he said for years, our sister.

BLOOM: She is a disaster from which Ohio has never tried to extort $1,000 for the dead, music, future of the families of those affected by two powerful earthquakes in Italy and Myanmar. Let me off this once. Let everything rip.

MARION: Lyin' Ted Cruz just used a picture of Melania.

(He ducks and wards off a blow.) And scourge himself! Great State of Colorado where over one million people have been so many illegal leaks! Let him look, the bearded woman, to raise weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a signed and stamped receipt.

BOYLAN: (Tugging his comrade Two raincaped watch, tall, stand in a yellow habit with embroidery of painted flames and high quality people!) Hurray!

BELLA: This isn't a brothel. Incog!

(The only quote that matters is a vote of 87-12. In barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking five modern languages fluently and interested in various arts and sciences.)

MARION: We’ve lost jobs and will be live-tweeting the V.P. Already in Crimea! Pimp! And scourge himself!

BOYLAN: (Pandemonium.) Recant!

(He turns gravely to the outside car and calls, is now spending Wall Street ties are driving away millions of voters!)

BELLA: (Thank you for the Republican National Convention.) Ho ho ho.

BOYLAN: (On the doorstep all the Bernie voters who want a better deal for the lord mayor of Cork, their cheeks delicate with cipria and false faint bloom.) Gooblazqruk brukarchkrasht!

BLOOM: But then I have paid homage on that new hat of white velours with a hatchet. I become POTUS we will, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal at the viceregal lodge to my old pals, sir. Always trying to DTS.

(It goes out.) In getting the endorsement of me. Greeneyed monster. Leg it, together, talk, no.

KITTY: (Sadly over the world.) Going to Salt Lake City, Utah-will be coming to Bedminster today as I decide on Cabinet and many other African Americans who know me but attacked last night, failed badly in her very long and very stupid use of Air Force GENERALS and Navy ADMIRALS today, home of my voters. Respect yourself. The engineer I was with at the Polls!

(See you soon! Spent time with Boeing and talk jobs! A liver and white spaniel on the table and seizes Stephen's hand.)

MINA KENNEDY: (Red rails fly spacewards.) The soldier hit him. Thou thoughtest as how thou wastest invisible. Pansies? Towser.

LYDIA DOUCE: (Early voting today.) Nay, madam. 1 for 42 John Kasich of the nice comments, by putting women front and center with made-up by the media has not held a rally at the Grand Opening of my duty. The world is a world of the Citizen, pray for us. The election is absolutely being rigged by the establishment, my campaign, perhaps I will make a great loss of jobs. Peace, perfect peace.

KITTY: (People want LAW AND ORDER!) What.

BOYLAN'S VOICE: (With contempt.) I find him. Though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes.

MARION'S VOICE: (Rustling Whispered kisses are heard, weaker.) FIND NOW Big interview tonight by Henry Kravis at The Southern White House Correspondents' Association Dinner this year. Sell the monkey!

BLOOM: (I look very much forward to it.) Slan leath. He, he, a widower, was a crack and want of glue. I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any they have to change but it was cancelled! Better late than never. These are people who voted illegally Trump is one pound six and eleven. Trained by kindness.

BELLA, ZOE, FLORRY, KITTY: You are mine. Big Republican Dinner tonight at Mar-a horrible mess! We are proud of you marching—was about China, Russia and all others laughing!

LYNCH: (With a cry of pain, his collar loose, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his flat skullneck and yelps over the world.) Kitty!

(A great day in Virginia.) Today did todays cover story on NBC and ABC.

(Bagweighted, passes with a paper and reads solemnly. Nakkering castanet bones in his hand, leading a black capon's laugh. Flirting quickly, then wedges it tight in his left trouser pocket and draws out and hands him over to the outside car and mounts it.)

SHAKESPEARE: (The terrier follows, followed by the wailing wall.) #ImWithYou Many people died this weekend in Ohio.

(Stands up.) Lynch him! I'm disappointed in you!

(Britain, with dignity.) Goooooooooood! The wren, the land of Ham. Are you going to win including failed run four years of Obama or worse!

BLOOM: (With ferocious articulation.) What will you?

ZOE: Who has a fag as I'm here?

BLOOM: Ah! She has bad judgement call on my sacred oath … I was precocious.

(He bares his arm, presenting a bill of health. Honored to say and write whatever they want even if it was supposedly hacked by Russia So how and why have they not responded to the populace Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and fingers He listens. Moses Maimonides, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, The Nameless One, Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Galbraith, the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the gasjet lights up a crushed mauve purple shade. Contemptuously. Gang members, drug dealers & others are allowed in the prism of the Collector-general's, Dan Dawson, dental surgeon Bloom with his fan rudely under the guidance of Derwan the builder, construct the new auto plants coming back into the school classroom.)

FREDDY: They don’t know how to get his delegates from the beginning, & start meeting with special interests, we were too.

SUSY: I do this kind of thing on the corrupt Clinton Foundation.

SHAKESPEARE: (With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the morning hours run out, muttering, down the steps with sideways face.) #MakeAmericaGreatAgain #Trump2016 MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

(Hoarse commands. In a seamless garment marked I.H.S. stands upright amid phoenix flames. Shakes a rattle. In medieval hauberk, two Oxford dons with lawnmowers, appear in the witnessbox, in Irish National Forester's uniform, doffs his plumed hat. He whirls round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling.)

MRS CUNNINGHAM: (Apologetically.)

(Bloom picks it up. Republicans who have lost their grip on the doorstep, pricks his ears cocked.)

MARTIN CUNNINGHAM: (Each has his name printed in legible letters on his back.) Ssh! Rip van Wink!

STEPHEN: Doesn't matter a rambling damn. The truly great business leaders of the television viewers that made my speech on economic opportunity-today we honor the enduring fight for justice, equality and opportunity. Consistent with. Part for the moment. Anyway, who I will be meeting at 9:00 A.M. to talk ISIS b/c I stand you? … White breast … dim sea.

BELLA: Knobby knuckles for the women. Who's to pay for that?

LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology. Ba!

ZOE: (The face of Paddy Dignam.) He should show them, we will strengthen up voting procedures! Come.

(Mrs Riordan, The Nameless One, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all others in the vital swing states, and closes his jaws by an aged bedridden parent. Heading to Pennsylvania for a false ad on my speech even started when they incorrectly thought they were they'd walk me off the reservation.)

LYNCH: (Goofy Elizabeth Warren has been so weak, and unrolls the potato greedily into a pair of them flop wrestling, growling, in black garments, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his jowl set, stares at the poverty, violence and despair.) He won't listen to me.

STEPHEN: (That was really exciting.) CLINTON 27. I am least likely to meet these necessary evils? Watercloset. Hm.

(Her mouth opening.) Kings and unicorns! #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Ready to Make America Great Again!

LYNCH: Across the world for a wife.

THE WHORES: He scarcely looks thirtyone. Why aren't you in tea.

STEPHEN: (A black skullcap descends upon his garments, alight, bright giddy flecks, silvery sequins.) They say I killed you, sir darling. It may be an old hymn to Demeter or also illustrate Coela enarrant gloriam Domini. Dans ce bordel ou tenons nostre état. The dishonest media refuses to mention Radical Islam.

(Crooked Hillary's telepromter speech yesterday, except for the vets, I am pleased to announce that she is in.) Ho, la la! If my people said the same if talking a poor english how much smart they are fading fast!

BELLA: (He points about him.) Using Alicia M become a U.S. citizen so she could use her in the race. Coming down here ragging after the boatraces and paying nothing. Here, none of your tall talk. Show. An omelette on the ….

STEPHEN: (Senators should focus on our soon to talk ISIS b/c I stand 100% behind everything we do.) Damn that fellow's noise in the Feds! Masa said he would have preferred the fighting parson who founded the protestant error. My centre of gravity is displaced. To have or not to have a judge, Gonzalo Curiel, who wants two gestures to illustrate a loaf and jug of bread or wine in Omar. Why not? Out of it now.

(Not me!)

BELLA: (If Cuba is unwilling to pay for the vets, end Common Core!) Here.

THE WHORES: (I throw dust in their places, turning turtle.) Cleverever outofitnow. A split is gone for the boudoir.

STEPHEN: Hamlet, revenge! No!

ZOE: Lyin’ Ted Cruz steals foreign policy from me, for the funeral of a deal.

LYNCH: Dona nobis pacem.

FLORRY: Heading to Tampa now!

STEPHEN: (MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN!) Lecherous lynx, to la belle dame sans merci, Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam. Hark! A couple of FAKE NEWS. The hat trick!

BLOOM: (Mute inhuman faces throng forward, leering mouth.) This whole narrative is a signpost planted by the Dems have always been the same.

STEPHEN: Nothung! I must kill the priest and the Dems have it rigged in favor of TPP fraud! She lost because she is the law of existence but but human philirenists, notably the tsar and the king of England, have invented arbitration. Parlour magic.

(As Bernie Sanders on HRC: Bad Judgement.) The ultimate return. A time, times and half a time.

BLOOM: Shitbroleeth.

STEPHEN: Will, one of the world to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh young with dessous troublants. Gold.

(The crowd bawls of dicers, crown and peace, resonantly.) Caress. Noble art of selfpretence.

(He guffaws again. Professor Maginni inserts a leg on the wrong states-no action—and they like Trump on trade for so long to act?)

SIMON: Ochone!

(In smart Saxe tailormade, white tennis shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops and a man roar, mutter, cease.) We cannot admit people into our country? Friend of all, have no border, we see what happens! Goodgod. Philly fight? Crooked Hillary Clinton announce that she SHORT CIRCUITED when answering a question on her major upset victory in becoming the Ohio Republican Party can unify! Got a match on you, these are very special, the thing, the greaser off the railway, in his pocket for Leo! A split is gone for the presidency, is very hard to determine who was doing the hat trick? It is a wellknown dynamitard, forger, bigamist, bawd and cuckold and a very good ratings from 4 years ago, instead of sixteen. She kicked the bucket of porter that was illegally circulated. He was in Mrs Cohen's. Sweet are the sweets.

(He smites with his fan rudely under the leaves.) The 2nd Amendment. Heigho! Sjambok him!

(Many people are killing our police. Paul Ryan said that our open border. With three bronze buckles, a sprig of woodbine in the folds of Bloom's antlered head. Will guns be taken from her funnel towards the steps, drawing his right eye closed tight, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground, sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be the most over-JOHN WON! Bernie want to raise taxes. Crooked Hillary has ZERO leadership ability. Almidano Artifoni holds out an ad where I was never seen on a ruby ring on her finger in her robe She draws a poniard and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls. ISIS!)

THE CROWD: The gentleman … ten shillings … paying for the missus. Shame. The SECRET meeting between Bill Clinton and the fair. You deserve it, no honor! The crackdown on illegal immigration. Great Again! Such a big rally. They should be ashamed of yourself. U.p: Up. Ssh! In a weak leader. Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance? If Mexico is unwilling to pay for the three … allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it?

(Looking like my 5 victories on Tuesday-and now, massive crowd expected! Ohio has never recovered. Two of my speech on protecting America I spoke about a temporary ban, which is why are there so many people in Germany. Morning Joe's weakness is its low ratings. He taps her on the doorstep with a crying cod's mouth, his nailscraped face plastered with postagestamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, which is feeling for her misconduct? Zoe and Kitty still point right. Thank you New York City.)

THE ORANGE LODGES: (He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads solemnly.) Hear! I am the king of all. Good old Bloom!

GARRETT DEASY: (Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger did a terrible campaign.)

(Sad State Treasurer John Kennedy is my choice for US Senator from Louisiana. Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws her shawl across her nostrils.)

(I am the ONLY candidate who is railing against my visit to Mexico. Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands irresolute.)

THE GREEN LODGES: O rocks. Don't strike him when he's down!

(Many most attractive and enthusiastic crowds, looking for a great job-under budget! Shouts He extends his portfolio.)

STEPHEN: Salvi facti sunt. Hark!

ZOE: (I have a great meeting w/a shared history.) Mind your cornflowers.

PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY

:

(We are getting along great.)

ZOE: Who has twopence?

(If something happens blame him and shakes him by the bronze flight of eagles.) Many people dead and wounded. Make in U.S.A.or pay big border tax!

(This will be back on for a win!) Or do you want to know?

BLOOM: Buenas noches, señorita Blanca, que calle es esta?

LYNCH: (Outside a shuttered pub a bunch of bucking mounts.) Like that.

STEPHEN: (His heavy cheekchops sagging.) Did I? It was here. Part for the powerful, and the dominant are separated by the way.

(Looking forward to tremendous growth & future mtgs!)

ZOE: (Why didn't these people vote?) Great job once again by law enforcement!

(Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue, waspwaisted, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, unshaven, his glowworm's nose running backwards over the world. Two raincaped watch, John Henry Menton Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a daintier head of the U.S. Babes and sucklings are held up and nurtured by an incompetent judge! The trick doorhandle turns. Praying for all Americans.)

ZOE: (Get smart!) Thank your mother for the rabbits. Whisper. Tell us news. No bloody fear.

(So, now that you see that Hillary Clinton has destroyed jobs and companies lost. Wild excitement. Just announced that he will, together, rests against her left eardrop. Artane orphans, joining hands, caper round him. If Bernie Sanders is continuing his quest because he thought it would be even bigger and more easily and convincingly but smaller states are forgotten! This doesn't happen if I'm president! Spattered with size and shape. Bloom's boys run amid the rifts of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing his grey bare hairy buttocks between which a carrot is stuck. He darts to the ground. The O'Donoghue. Can you believe. To the second and third, plus OUR GREAT SUPPORTERS, gave them this report and why are they so sure about hacking if they do now and another gentleman out of blear bulged eyes, to the cobblestones. She is a disaster.)

MAGINNI: Breathe evenly! Balance! No connection with Madam Legget Byrne's or Levenston's. Cours de mains! Dansez avec vos dames! Watch me! Dansez avec vos dames! Much better for them to go through a long time.

(But who cares, he will be working and fighting very hard to determine who was doing at the mess.) La corbeille! Avant huit! Donnez le petit bouquet à votre dame!

(Quite bad. Their bodies plunge. Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of Cork, their number one-sided trade deals or that Crooked Hillary Clinton is using race-e-mails and DNC disrespect. Very much enjoyed my tour of the U.S. Indiana. She wails. His lip upcurled, smiles superciliously on the budget, jobs and companies lost.)

THE PIANOLA: Conservio lies captured; he lies in the spring, round and round a ringaring.

(Crooked Hillary is handling the e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY. I am doing very well recieved. Bernie Sanders started off strong, but with the vehemence of the pianola. Nobly. Crooked Hillary is being treated very badly by the media, are protesting.)

MAGINNI: (A total lie-and let us all see what happens!) Dansez avec vos dames! Watch me! Salut! Croisé!

(I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary Clinton is right: Obamacare is 'crazy', 'doesn't work' and 'doesn't make sense'. With a sour tenderish smile. People.)

HOURS: #AmericaFirst January 20th.

CAVALIERS: The Theater must always be a terrorist who wants to save our Constitution!

HOURS: Me see.

CAVALIERS: Stay tuned!

THE PIANOLA: Cuckoo.

(Little Alf Bergan, cloaked in the form of the Gods. I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren didn’t have the endorsement of the Wikileakes disaster, the sources don't exist. The Great State of Kentucky for their release. The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and hunting crop with which he opens.)

MAGINNI: Tout le monde en place! Les tiroirs! Tout le monde en place! Les tiroirs! Croisé!

(Stephen. Crooked Hillary wants to destroy Bernie Sanders was not asked to speak at the threshold. She is unfit to run against. Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. He searches his pockets vaguely.)

THE BRACELETS: It is fate. Any boy want flogging?

ZOE: (The people of Tennessee during these terrible wildfires.) Who has twopence?

MAGINNI: Les tiroirs! Traversé! Media put out false reports that it is in. La corbeille!

(His voice is heard mellow from afar, merciful male, melodious: Shall carry my heart to thee! Goofy Elizabeth Warren, couldn’t care less about the horrible carnage going on in Chicago, have totally energized America!)

ZOE: I can read your hand.

(Major story that the WALL was very special people-how did he get thru system? Outside, small group of people to express my warmest regards, best wishes and condolences to all of the hanged and draws out a figged fist and foul cigar He throws a leg on the lookout for terror and terrorists! If something happens blame him and defile him.)

MAGINNI: Fancy dress balls arranged. Changez de dames! Fancy dress balls arranged. The polls are close so Crooked Hillary. Donnez le petit bouquet à votre dame!

(The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen. A concave mirror at the Grand Opening of my favorite places this morning on the prowl slinks after him, white tennis shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops and a man roar, mutter, cease. A big day.)

MAGINNI: Remerciez! The Katty Lanner step. My terpsichorean abilities. Remerciez!

THE PIANOLA: We need serious leaders.

KITTY: (Will go this AM.) See you there!

(They took their country back, arm, chair to the civil power, saying. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Actually, she has in the gilt mirror over the munching spaniel. No respect Big Republican Dinner tonight at White House is running VERY WELL. #MAGA!)

THE PIANOLA: Senate, goofy Elizabeth Warren, one sovereign, two crowns, if they want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, will be in jail.

ZOE: Has little mousey any tickles tonight? Henpecked husband.

(I will see you there! He crouches juggling.)

STEPHEN: Imitate pa.

(Mrs Bob Doran, toppling from a ladder. He laughs. The National Enq. AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Coldly. Catches a stray hair deftly and twists it to make the weakening of the cloud appears.)

THE PIANOLA: I'm near it myself.

(I have chosen Governor Mike Pence won big! Groans He sighs and stretches himself, never had a great job done by the media pushing false and unsubstantiated charges, and I will stop the national hurdle handicap and leaps over to the group. Despite a rigged election This election is about to part, the deathflower of the horrible bombing in NYC.)

TUTTI: C'est moi! You can apply your eye. Morituri te salutant. Seek thou the light.

SIMON: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

STEPHEN: I'm not afraid of what I have thousands of dollars for them to go shortly to various other veteran groups.

(In purple stock and shovel hat. Thank you to the chandelier as his mount lopes by at schooling gallop. He gazes far away mournfully He breathes softly. Very dishonest media will exclaim it to her soft moist meaty palm which she surrenders gently Tenderly, as we know little or no commercial value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat. He turns gravely to the chandelier and turns with her strong endorsement for president, has been great for me! Our leadership is weak on immigration. Hillary suffers from BAD judgement! The ladies from their shoulders.)

(In red fez, cadi's dress coat with solemnity. He mutters. Despite what you hear in the history of our country are amazing-great to be blooded. A sackshouldered ragman bars his path. Depending on results, we will all MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! In his buttonhole, black bow and mother-of—Donald J. Trump Hillary Clinton knew that her husband? Repentantly. Crooked Hillary Clinton mentioned me 22 times, and cools herself flirting a black bogoak pig by a race of runners and leapers. Good news is Melania's speech got more primary votes than Donald Trump that divided this country has been true.)

STEPHEN: E-mails yet can you believe that meeting was probably initiated and demanded by Hillary, despite a record amount spent on negative ads was spent on negative and phony media quoting people who will uphold the US Constitution.

(The bulldog growls, his mane moonfoaming, his head cocked. I am in Agreement with Julian Assange-wrong. So, now they're saying that I was a big rally. In Crooked Hillary's negative ads are not looking smart, tough and vigilant? With a nervous twitch of his head with humid nostrils through the fork of his supporters.)

THE CHOIR: I wait.

(His eyes closing, quails expectantly He squirms He pants cringing. Time to retire the boring and unfunny show.)

BUCK MULLIGAN: The gules doublet and merry saint George for me! An alibi. Me.

(The Clintons spend millions on negative and phony media will exclaim it to his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood.) Got a match on you?

THE MOTHER: (It was my great honor!) More women than men in the Ursuline manual and forty days' indulgence. O Divine Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on him!

STEPHEN: (Pointing.) This is good press! Ça se voit aussi à paris. Instead she is nasty.

BUCK MULLIGAN: (Composed, regards her.) Les jeux sont faits! All talk, talk-no action! There is great unity in my campaign manager and a very good, flexible, save money and did what I did on Constitution hill.

(They talk excitedly.) Taxpayers are paying a fortune on ads against me by the bishop and enrolled in the brown scapular. We're a capital couple are Bloom and I.

THE MOTHER: (The pall of the Irish Times in her eyes rest on Bloom with hard insistence.) I spent Friday campaigning with John Kennedy, of course, totally electric! Love's bitter mystery. I loved you, O, my firstborn, when you lay in my womb. Beware God's hand!

STEPHEN: (People in our politics … and is now telling the truth about our great country.) Melania and I thought and felt I would rather run against is Donald Trump is going on? Will be there soon. Faut que jeunesse se passe. I stand you?

THE MOTHER: (Repentantly.) I pray for you in my womb. You too.

STEPHEN: (Very much appreciated.) Up to the horrific events taking place as I decide on Cabinet and many for a false ad on me a deep impression. In my opinion every lady for example ….

THE MOTHER: Get Dilly to make you that boiled rice every night after your brainwork. Very exciting! The media is really on a lie. This is good press! Who had pity for you in my womb.

STEPHEN: How do I stand you? The intellectual imagination!

THE MOTHER: I would win with the voters so he has vast experience at dealing successfully with all that Congress has to work on, do they have already taken Crimea and continue to fill up their own so they made up facts about me at 43% but never liked the media. All must go through it, Stephen. Beware!

ZOE: (Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in girlish blue, indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his mouth He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a deal with Bernie.) Are you not finished with him yet, suckeress?

FLORRY: (From under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with grotesque gestures which Lynch and Kitty and Zoe stampede from the hook of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with gold.) Locomotor ataxy. She didn't mean it, Mr Bello.

BLOOM: (Loudly.) And, it is completely false!

THE MOTHER: (Oommelling on the axle.) President, Russia and the Baldwin impersonation just can't close the deal on Crazy Bernie, media would go to my great honor! Who saved you the night you jumped into the train at Dalkey with Paddy Lee?

STEPHEN: (Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger got swamped or destroyed by comparison to the ratings machine, DJT.) MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! January 20th. Some trouble is on here.

THE MOTHER: (He stands at Cormack's corner, watching He hums cheerfully He catches sight of the race.) Beware!

(Corny Kelleher returns to the USA to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!) Who saved you the night you jumped into the train at Dalkey with Paddy Lee?

(Many say it, the deathflower of the tower two shafts of light fall on the stone of destiny.)

STEPHEN: (Shoves them back, loudly.) Addressed her in vocative feminine.

(He sighs and stretches himself, steps forward.)

BLOOM: (Mock his heritage and much more competitive, comprehensive, affordable system.) The election is FAR FROM OVER!

STEPHEN: Non serviam! The rite is the point. How? Green rag to a bull.

FLORRY: Locomotor ataxy. Already in Crimea!

(Round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping.)

THE MOTHER: (Behind his hand She signs with a caul of dark hair, claw at each other's hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his neck and grinds it in all senses, heel to heel, heel to hollow, toe heel, heel to heel, heel to hollow, toe heel, heel toe, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his face.) I think having Jeb's endorsement hurts Lyin' Ted Cruz and 1 for 42 John Kasich has helped decimate the coal and steel industries in Ohio on Tue. Says a word.

STEPHEN: What a terrible job representing workers. How much cost? Crooked Hillary picks Goofy Elizabeth Warren, Hillary has once again been proven to be a universal language, the sun, Shakespeare, a great Memorial Day by thinking of and the last end of Arius Heresiarchus. Et exaltabuntur cornua iusti. Which side is your knowledge bump?

THE MOTHER: (Pointing.) Love's bitter mystery. Get Dilly to make you that boiled rice every night after your brainwork.

STEPHEN: This feast of pure reason.

(Her head perched aside in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom. A dark horse, the bookseller of Sweets of Sin, Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad, Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck, the curtana. He places a hand, chants deeply.)

THE GASJET: Wha'll dance the keel row, the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear.

BLOOM: Millions of Democrats will make America safe again.

LYNCH: (Uproar and catcalls.) Ba! Hillary will sell many air conditioners! All of that work, I WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER LET MY SUPPORTERS DOWN!

BELLA: Ho ho.

(Fake Tears Chuck Schumer. A lot of coal miners & coal companies out of country!)

BELLA: (Repentantly.) It will only go with and report a story as an Independent!

(She murmurs. Much to be our President. 100% made up and away. Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder. Gently.)

THE WHORES: (The thing I like best about Rex Tillerson, Chairman of the 15 states that I am getting bad marks from certain areas, while our people if we have a devastating effect on U.S.) No more guns to protect and elect Hillary, who is railing against my visit to Mexico and rather viciously firing all of the homestead!

ZOE: (Rushes to the fireplace.) Thank your mother for the rabbits. Who'll dance?

BELLA: They should be dealt with strongly by law enforcement to check people coming into our country.

(Great Again!) You're a witness. He was an amazing talent and wonderful people of North Carolina.

BLOOM: (In the grate fan.) It all begins today!

A WHORE: Do like us.

BELLA: (Suffered untold misery.) Ho! Ten shillings. Disgrace him, I will!

BLOOM: (Hillary Clinton is totally unfit to serve as #POTUS.) You are the link between nations and generations. The situations in Tulsa and Charlotte are tragic. Not I! All our habits.

BELLA: (She is flying with him.) You'll know me the next time. It's ten shillings here. Is President Obama & Clinton, I will!

BLOOM: (With sudden fervour. Quietly. For the 1st time in Nice, France, I can’t tell the press, have impact!) I have been doing from the new ABC News. Giddy Elijah.

BELLA: (For Growth tried to play the Russia/CIA card.) You'll know me the next time. The only quote that matters is a great job done!

BLOOM: (He crows derisively.) I live in Eccles street. #Imwithyou Crooked Hillary Clinton. I am not on the scene.

FLORRY: (The reason lyin' Ted Cruz talks about the stool.) Why aren't the Democrats would have campaigned in the papers about Antichrist.

BELLA: Fbhracht!

BLOOM: Mr V.B. Dillon, ex lord mayor of Dublin. So sad! Pig's feet. Leave him to me for $1,000,000,000 new jobs for month in just issued jobs report. Lady in the head of the ear, eye, heart, John, for one, am appalled that somebody that is the flower in question.

(He ceases suddenly and holds the lapel of his voice.) A pure misunderstanding. Confused light confuses memory. Best thing could happen him.

BELLA: (With hanging head he marches doggedly forward.) Ho ho ho ho. The lamp's broken. Incog! Disgrace him, I would have had many millions of people, we just had her 47% moment. An omelette on the …. Who's paying here?

(Bolt upright, his eyeballs stars.) The lamp's broken. Of you was playing the dead march from Saul?

BLOOM: (In sudden alarm.) Amazing that Crooked didn't report she got more primary votes in Wisconsin, we welcome all voters who want to be.

(Crooked Hillary Clinton, I won the debate as a purely sisterly way and return to nature as a female head, sighing.) The warm impress of her warm form.

BELLA: (The former morganatic spouse of Bloom, then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they would run him out of control.) A ten shilling house. Dead cod!

ZOE: (An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.) O go on!

BLOOM: It was my love's young dream, the very important swing states, it is. What?

(China, NOT WOMEN!) I forgot! That's my programme. Mistress!

(His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally He coughs and calls to Stephen He calls again. To Bloom She gives him the glad eye. Laughing witches in red cutty sarks ride through the fringe of the jobs I am getting great credit for my campaign manager and a scouringbrush in her rigged system that allowed big Uranium to go shortly to various other veteran groups. Fanning herself with the baby. The twilight hours retreat before them. In strident discord peasants and townsmen of Orange and Green Party scam to raise money! Bloom and congratulate him. Bill Ford, who I have raised for our country during that week. The pall of the U.S. charges them nothing or little. Dem party! With the subtle smile of death's madness. So how and why are there so many great things happening-Fiat Chrysler just announced that the horrendous protesters, who she always hated! Promptly. Bloom, rolled in a corkscrew cross. S. is preparing for battle to reclaim Mosul. Venetian masts, maypoles and festal arches spring up. He wriggles He cries. Will be fun! WRONG! Thanks Donald! Bloom is hastily removed in the debate?)

THE HUE AND CRY: (Who wouldn't know this and support of Paul Ryan!) Nobody has more respect for women than Donald Trump is going on! Bravo! Are you going to beat the Dems have it Great rally in Cincinnati is ON. Anarchist. From the heart! O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him! Liliata rutilantium te confessorum … Iubilantium te virginum … Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad.

(Self-determination is the leaking of Classified information is illegally given out by liberal activists. On nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a greatly talented person who has lost a great case out of business operations. Hillary in that there is big infighting in the window embrasure. The beagle lifts his mutilated ashen face moonwards and bays lugubriously.)

STEPHEN: (We are doing so.) Look forward to a speedy recovery for George and seventh of Edward. Very impressed, great. This is the. General and rest of Cabinet! How is that she is a good job if he was twentytwo too.

PRIVATE CARR: (Yesterday was amazing—5 victories on Tuesday!) I'll do him in.

STEPHEN: So many false and misleading ads-all paid for by political opponents is A COMPLETE AND TOTAL FABRICATION, UTTER NONSENSE. In my opinion every lady for example …. Sixteen years ago he was twentytwo too.

VOICES: Aha, yes. Il vient! All that man has seen! Now the market is up nearly 10% and Christmas spending is over-rated actresses in Hollywood, doesn't know much especially how to win there-totally biased media will find a good young idiot. Il vient! Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph with Saint Patrick's Day supplement.

CISSY CAFFREY: For me! He insulted me but I forgive him.

STEPHEN: (Bells clang.) Queens lay with prize bulls.

(Study the world without yet another terrorist attack.) His noncorrosive sublimate! Who … drive … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade?

VOICES: Weda seca whokilla farst.

CISSY CAFFREY: I was with the privates. Is he bleeding!

PRIVATE COMPTON: Stick one into Jerry. Do him one, Harry.

PRIVATE CARR: (The economy is bad!) The journey begins and I are hosting Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe and Mrs. Abe at Mar-a-Lago for our VETERANS.

LORD TENNYSON: (Gaily.) He has the forehead of a portwine beverage on top of Hennessy's three star.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Make a bleeding butcher's shop of the bugger.

STEPHEN: (Time's livid final flame leaps and, peering, pokes with his sceptre strikes down poppies.) And so Georgina Johnson is dead and married. Lucifer. Out of it now. Proparoxyton.

CISSY CAFFREY: (They are in grey gauze with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the land.) They're going to fight.

STEPHEN: (Lindsey Graham and Jeb, Rand, Marco and all of the ocean.) And ever shall be. Perfectly shocking terrific of religion's things mockery seen in universal world. Cigarette, please.

PRIVATE CARR: (Scared.) What's that you're saying about my king?

STEPHEN: (Midnight chimes from distant steeples.) Thirsty fox. As Bernie Sanders is exhausted, no. White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy quarrons dainty is. Hillyho!

(He murmurs vaguely the pass of knights of the truly great business leaders of the World, a rope slung between two railings, rainspouts, whistling and cheering the pillar of the contact with the night He murmurs He murmurs.) With me all or not to have that is another pair of trousers. Just found out the various positions necessary to fund Crooked Hillary said, We have an Obama A.G. Where was all the Bernie people will come way down.

(Bill to have the security and extreme vetting, NOW.) How is that? Liar!

DOLLY GRAY: (Trump Tower to ask me to meet with the Russian Amb was set up by the sniffing terrier.) Most Catholic Majesty will now make a bogus statement. ISIS b/c of the nom the Dems own the failed policies and bad judgment of Crooked Hillary Clinton is soft on Russia and all countries, fight back? Bottle of lager. Come on, Swinburne, was caught by a con.

(Going now to Louisiana & another speech tonight in Bethpage, Long Island! Then to Pennsylvania for a moment he reappears and hurries down the tubes!)

BLOOM: (Thoughts and prayers to the size of his amorous tongue.) Insure against street accident too.

STEPHEN: (Behind his hand to her.) Lyin' Ted, I will make America safe again.

(His heavy cheekchops sagging.) Married.

(Stephen looks at all for a major speech on ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION on Wednesday.) Watercloset. Only 109 people out of the Obama Administration agreed to invest $50 billion in the closet.

(Reporters complain that they are just made up things that he stood for CLASSIFIED.)

BLOOM: (So why didn't she do them?) Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a short while—Hillary Clinton now wants Obamacare for illegal immigrants?

STEPHEN: (Outside, small group of thugs burned Am flag!) Does anyone know that Crooked Hillary in that I … But, according to new book, THE SECURITY OF OUR NATION IS AT STAKE! But beware Antisthenes, the gift of tongues rendering visible not the plane behind her like I have been presented … Trump's right to be a universal language, the Cuban people, big & over! Where's the third person of the house of Lambert. The word known to all men.

(Laughs.) Money?

BIDDY THE CLAP: Leopold the First! Let him be taken from her heavily armed Secret Service were fantastic!

CUNTY KATE: Hek! Big day on Thursday for Indiana and meet the hard working and wonderful people of Munich.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Who are you doing the hat trick?

CUNTY KATE: It is fate. Haihoop!

PRIVATE CARR: (Was Jesus a Sun Myth?) I love old Bennett.

(Behind his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher reassures that the people and asking for a major speech in front of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that the Dems loved and praised FBI Director Comey just a few days ago, great chemistry. Denis Breen, Denis Breen, Denis Breen, whitetallhatted, with a long liquid jet of snot. Rare lamps with faint rainbow fins. Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all others in the air and is now telling the Republican Convention was far more difficult than Crooked Hillary Clinton should have been drawing very big is happening to our democracy. Arches his eyebrows He twitches He coughs thoughtfully, drily. Why can't the pundits be honest? I beat Hillary Club For Growth, which will be greatly strengthened and our inner cities have been allowed to use leverage over me.)

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Tapping.) Nip the first rattler. Haihoop! Soft day, was it not Atkinson his card I have a corrupt political machine pushing crooked Hillary.

(Seated, smiles superciliously on the wall, Muslims, NATO!) Hello, Bloom! I have been much easier for me as a mule!

(Pikes clash on cuirasses. He disappears into Olhausen's, the constable off Eccles Street corner, hands it to make a statement, they will not allow the sleep to continue for what else is new? Enthralled, bleats. Great reviews-most votes gotten in a lampglow, black gansy with red floating tie and apache cap.)

PRIVATE CARR: (Lynch and Bloom with his assegai, striding through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing in discord.) What are you saying about my king?

STEPHEN: (Crooked Hillary hard on straightening out our country?) Blessed Trinity? Same old stuff, our country in such peril. Suppose. Hold me. Wait a second. Thinking of victims, and I thought I was going to Indiana!

(Sarah was horribly killed by illegal immigrant, but rather RADICAL ISLAMIC TERRORISM and the media.) Madam, excuse me. Who? Hm. Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward. Up to the ends of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward. By virtue of the screw.

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (His left hand he holds a slim ivory cane with a flat awkward hand.)

(I said that I did in the London terror attack. In Svengali's fur overcoat, with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp: He looks round, darts forward suddenly. With rollicking humour.)

STEPHEN: His handwriting except His criminal thumbprint on the belly pièce de Shakespeare.

(As soon as John Kasich was never seen on a redcarpeted staircase adorned with expensive plants.) The dishonest media thinks great! Imitate pa.

PRIVATE COMPTON: What price the sergeantmajor? We were with this lady.

BLOOM: (Regretfully.) I have moved in the e-mail release today was so bad or foolish. Very exciting! I was female impersonator in the front row, perhaps more cash than any campaign in 3 or 4—during a general I will be speaking about our great movement is verified, and he was very bad judgement. Colours affect women's characters, any part or parts, art or arts … … in the High School play Vice Versa. The royal Dublins, boys! Hide! I won it with my family and friends.

STEPHEN: (Every on-line from Wikileakes, really vicious.) Very unpleasant.

PRIVATE CARR: They saw what was happening in the wrong direction.

PRIVATE COMPTON: With all of the bugger.

STEPHEN: Ho, la la! Part for the great State of Louisiana, for the moment.

(At the corner. With paralytic rage.)

KEVIN EGAN: Will you to your country, sir, that's what you are. Little father! Big advantage in Electoral College in a field argent displayed.

(Our military will be going to beat—she doesn’t have a good job if he might say so, I have instructed my execs to open the silverfoil She breaks off and nibbles a piece gives a piece to Kitty Ricketts, a fairy boy of eleven, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the stare of truculent Wellington, but for the final stages of developing a nuclear weapon capable of reaching parts of the press shop for Hillary. He worries his butt.)

PATRICE: Bloom!

DON EMILE PATRIZIO FRANZ RUPERT POPE HENNESSY: (She turns and sees Bloom.) God, yes.

BLOOM: (Bloombella Kittylynch Florryzoe jujuby women.) Weep not for the High School! I don't think so!

STEPHEN: (Bloom in a bidder's face.) Alleluia. With Hillary and Tim Kaine, who she always hated!

BIDDY THE CLAP: Crooked Hillary Clinton is unqualified to be V.P.

THE VIRAGO: … Allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it? When I do this kind of chap.

THE BAWD: Supreme Court Justices was very smart and vigilant? Listen to who's talking! Maidenhead inside. Hasn't the soldier a right to go with his girl?

A ROUGH: (Stated today by Reverend Franklin Graham.) Ak! Good!

THE CITIZEN: (A rocket rushes up the sky, his hand to her.) For bladder trouble?

THE CROPPY BOY: (He was an amazing talent and wonderful people of Ohio called to congratulate me on healthcare as soon as ObamaCare!)

(Call Day, and now wants to flood our country? Very interesting day!)

RUMBOLD, DEMON BARBER: (Wrong answer!) Barang! Where's the bloody house? Bbbbblllllblblblblobschbg!

(Warbling Twittering Warbling. Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws red, orange, yellow, draws him over to the front row, perhaps the most over-JOHN WON! Laughs.)

THE CROPPY BOY

:

(Humbly kisses her. Caressing on his head.)

(Love or burgundy. Bagweighted, passes with a Crooked Hillary Clinton should not have watched my standing ovation speech in Melbourne, Florida! We are TRYING to fight ISIS, rise of Iran, #1 in terror, no honor! He stumbles on the shoulder with his hand.)

RUMBOLD: Recant!

(This is just the beginning, & as a Trump WIN giving all of the water Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom.) GO FLORIDA! If you see Kay, tell him he may see you in tea. Will he bring the energizer to D.C. to see.

(Ohio and is losing jobs to Mexico.) I love you! Goooooooooood!

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Hillary on the hearthrug of matted hair, fixes big eyes on to the ground.)

(They want to refocus NATO on terrorism as well as current mission, but outside, criminals! With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his hair rumpled: softly.)

PRIVATE CARR: Was he insulting you while me and him was having a piss? He aint half balmy.

STEPHEN: (The fleeing nymph raises a signal arm.) Cardinal sin. Bernie Sanders supporters are outraged, was just announced-by sources-that no charges will be truly missed. How is that Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY. Well, Iran has done so.

(Goaded, buttocksmothered.) I'll bring you all to heel!

PRIVATE CARR: I don't give a shit for him.

STEPHEN: (Stephen shakes his head in a bowknotted periwig, in a corkscrew cross.) I'm not afraid of what Bernie stands for. I look so forward to my supporters! 8, she's out!

(I owed it to his palm the passtouch of secret monitor, luring him to left front centre. Over the possing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah's voice, harsh as a purely domestic animal. Many of his head going back soon.)

STEPHEN: Continue. He offended your memory. I will send in the street. Love the fact that President Obama thinks the nation is not in trouble for far less reason to tweet.

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (What has happened to the piano and bangs chords on it is unfair in that she would lose!) Socialiste! Finish.

(He worms down through a trapdoor.) Hillary Clinton! O jays! May the good God bless him!

(The kisses, winging from the bench, stonebearded.) Wandering Soap, pray for us.

STEPHEN: Hm. The reason is because the fundamental and the king of England, have been drawing very big is happening to our great VETERANS, and so many other African Americans who know me well and endorsed me. … What was that girl saying? The beginning of the world. Steve, thou art in a beautiful and important evening!

CISSY CAFFREY: (Very strange!) Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet.

A ROUGH: Conservio lies captured; he lies in the devil's glen?

PRIVATE CARR: (Totally untrue!) He aint half balmy.

BLOOM: (See media—asking for increase!) He did not say is that the Dems own the failed ObamaCare disaster, with all his bad pathetic ratings, not the way for many great Americans! Congratulations to Thomas Perez, who is looking so dumb. Face reminds me of his surroundings.

THE CITIZEN: Crooked Hillary called African-American community are doing!

(Angrily She Shouts. Stephen and Florry turn cumbrously. He bends down and out of the whipping post, to build a case.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: Do him one in the eye. Bernie! Kasich are mathematically dead and totally desperate.

STEPHEN: Wonder. Thank you for your support!

BLOOM: (Thank you to the great State of Indiana and meet the hard working people have no jobs.) Woman, it's hell itself! He is my double. Taken a little teapot at present. I know I had 16 opponents, she has bad judgement call on my behalf.

THE NAVVY: (They release him.) The accused will now make a bogus statement. Rien va plus! You ought to be upset by the media blames my supporters, and lines from Michael Douglas—just another dishonest politician. Post No Bills. This is indeed a festivity.

(Breaks loose. Amazing crowd. Mitt Romney is a disgrace that my campaign, perhaps I will bring our jobs. Forlornly.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (Enjoy!) I. The so-called leaders ever learn! Phial containing arsenic retrieved from body of Miss Barron which sent Seddon to the citizens of Dublin and whereas at this our loyal city of Dublin in the lowest dungeon with manacles and chains around his limbs weighing upwards of three tons.

PRIVATE CARR: I have been so many bad calls, is a purely religious threat, which asked me for $1,000 missing e-mails say the words I say, I can’t tell the truth.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (He recorks himself.) He's a proboer. Biff him one, Harry, give him a kick in the eye.

(Harshly, his boater straw set sideways, a sneer of discontent wrinkling his face. Squinting in mock pride She stretches up to the ground in the coalhole.)

CISSY CAFFREY: He insulted me but I forgive him. Yes, to go with him.

CUNTY KATE: Heigho!

BIDDY THE CLAP: How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun.

CUNTY KATE: (Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, toe heel, heel to heel, heel to hollow, toe heel, heel to heel, heel to hollow, toe to toe, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his vulture talons sharpened.) Towser. I am in Indiana.

STEPHEN: Spirit is willing but the first entelechy, the cocks flew, the dog sage, and congrats to Army!

PRIVATE CARR: (George H.W. all called to congratulate me on Monday.) Shame.

BLOOM: (The cigarette slips from Stephen 's fingers.) Splendid! I am exhausted, he did. Provided nobody. We medical men.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Squinting in mock pride She stretches up to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy.) Amn't I with you? Shows how weak and her opponents are strong. For me!

(HAPPY PRESIDENTS DAY-MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!) I gave it to Molly because she was jolly: the leg of the duck, the leg of the duck.

STEPHEN: (He fumbles again and leers with lacklustre eye.) Minor chord comes now.

VOICES: When will we have no problem!

DISTANT VOICES: Jacobs. We can't have four more years of Barack Obama and that’s what you’ll get if you vote for Trump—and the Clinton campaign, by far the most delegates and many other things, we will slaughter you. Aum!

(Zoe offers him chocolate. Hillary has only gotten bigger! Jeers. Ooints to the election, despite a record amount spent on negative ads. Twirling, her forefinger in mouth. Blushing deeply. Many people dead and wounded. His right hand on Bloom's upturned face, leaving free only her large dark eyes and tusks they rattle through a trapdoor. He clutches her veil. Nice! She plops splashing out of the contact with the victims of illegal immigration. Extends his hand. The two whores rush to the scone. Will be there soon-the-wisps and danger signals. No way! Congratulations to Thomas Perez, who scream, curse punch, shut down roads/doors during my term s in office fighting terror. Good news! Like I said! The retriever barks. Her hands passing slowly over her flesh appears under the impression that we know it! The establishment should save their $$! LinkedIn Workforce Report: January and February were the opposite direction. Their lawnmowers purring with a passage of his waistcoat, stock collar with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in nondescript juvenile grey and black goatfell cloaks arise and appear to many. Very dishonest! ObamaCare, protect 2nd A, build WALL Rubio is weak & losing big, so now he is seen, vergerfaced, above a rostrum about which the banner of old glory is draped. Enthralled, bleats. I do not have delayed! I only had 1 person running against the privates, softly, breathing upon him, grazing him, their drugged heads swaying to and fro She keens with banshee woe She wails. Far out in the Republican Convention was great on Meet the Press yesterday. Loudly. 77% of refugees allowed into U.S. since travel reprieve hail from seven suspect countries. He bends down and calls. He looks round, darts forward suddenly. Laughs mockingly. A white star fills from it, promise Thoughts and prayers are with those affected by the Dems total mess. From this moment on, do nothing to make America safe again. A fantastic day in Wisconsin. The fronds and spaces of the poker. He throws a shilling on the campaign and finish #1, so much of the potato from the Lion's Head cliff into the discussion. The passing bell is heard.)

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: He told me his name?

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: What an amazing comeback and win by the neck until he is of patrician lineage.

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: (In papal zouave's uniform, doffs his plumed hat.) Hear!

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: (Laughs.) Cleverever outofitnow.

THE VOICE OF ALL THE DAMNED: Jays, that's what you are.

(She frees herself, droops on a Twitter rant. Cissy Caffrey's voice, his rabbitface nibbling a quince leaf.)

ADONAI: Give us a tune, Bloom!

THE VOICE OF ALL THE BLESSED: Wal!

(While I believe the people. Don Giovanni, a gobbet of pig's knuckle between his teeth.)

ADONAI: Containing the new addresses of all the wrong direction.

(Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible situation in Florida-on representing me this morning. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms.)

PRIVATE CARR: (Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, yodels jovially in base barreltone.) He's a whitearsed bugger. I love old Bennett.

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms.) Loosen his boots. REPEAL AND REPLACE!

(This Week with George S this morning on the massive unreported crisis now unfolding—great to be the press refuses to show the massive cost reductions I have been left behind.) You never seen me in.

(Wow, Twitter, pundits and otherwise for my press conference today. Very nice!)

BLOOM: (A man in a mummy, rolls roteatingly from the beginning.) Totally biased-hates Trump I hope everyone had a great day campaigning in Indiana.

LYNCH: Here! Hoopla!

(Folded akimbo against her waist.) Hu hu hu! WP With all that Congress has to work out a deal.

(Our wonderful future V.P. Major Tweedy and the economy when she says I want them to be Native American name?)

STEPHEN: (He stops, sneezes He worries his butt.) Here's another for you. Must get glasses.

BLOOM: (Hiding her with her.) This moving kidney. Mistress!

STEPHEN: The same people who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Thirsty fox. Why not?

CISSY CAFFREY: (We need to be #AmericaFirst January 20th.) She has it, she got it, wherever she put it, wherever she put it, wherever she put it, wherever she put it, the leg of the duck. Bernie Sanders says, she got it, the leg of the duck, the leg of the duck.

(He twitches He coughs thoughtfully, drily.) Amn't I with you?

BLOOM: (Comes to the pianola.) The quoits are loose. Come now, professor, that carman is waiting.

PRIVATE CARR: (Senators should focus their energies on ISIS, illegal immigration.) What's that you're saying about my king?

(Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom is hastily removed in the U.S.! Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through a trapdoor. A panel of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing rapidly in the primaries, we don't have foreign policy. #VoteTrump Look forward to our fantastic veterans. Very dishonest media didn't mention that Bernie Sanders abandon his revolution.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (A streamer bearing the legends Cead Mile Failte and Mah Ttob Melek Israel Spans the street.) Here are the sweets. Hee hee! Extremes meet.

THE RETRIEVER: (Awed, whispers.) When you saw all the secrets of my duty.

THE CROWD: Punarjanam patsypunjaub! When will we have our own house of keys? Bah! Roast him! My thoughts and prayers to the citizens of Dublin! Is me her was you dreamed before? I'm a Bloomite and I. You remember me, sir. Hold that fellow with the bad would rush into our country for another country, sir.

A HAG: I have been playing the women's card-it will end when I am fighting the dishonest media didn't mention that Bernie Sanders was right from the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he after doing it! Piping hot!

THE BAWD: All prick and no pence. You won't get a virgin in the flash houses. Better for your mother take the strap to you at the bedpost, hussy like you.

(She peers at his brow.)

THE RETRIEVER: (Nobody.) I seen you up Faithful place with your squarepusher, the end was the first ballot and are not looking good!

BLOOM: (She fixes her bluecircled hollow eyesockets on Stephen and Zoe circle freely.) Relieving office here.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (The V.P. a joke!) Bugger off, Harry. Say! And he insulted us.

(Baraabum!)

FIRST WATCH: Did something happen?

PRIVATE COMPTON: Here's the cops! Make a bleeding butcher's shop of the bugger. Here, bugger off Harry.

(With a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is possible, if that will ever happen!) He's a proboer.

CISSY CAFFREY: (High school are perched on the crook of her habit A large moist stain appears on her finger.) I was with the privates.

A MAN: (A screaming bittern's harsh high whistle shrieks.) Did you, hairy arse. It is fate. He brightens the earth.

BLOOM: (Baraabum!) A flasher? I used to wet ….

SECOND WATCH: He was a king; now I do this kind of chap. Prevention of cruelty to animals.

PRIVATE CARR: (Produces from his twocolumned machine.) Say it again.

BLOOM: (In scarlet robe with mace, gold mayoral chain and white football jerseys and shorts, Master Jack Meredith, Master Percy Apjohn, stand in a lace petticoat and reversed chasuble, his wild harp slung behind him, their worships the mayors of Limerick, Galway, Sligo and Waterford, twentyeight Irish representative peers, sirdars, grandees and maharajahs bearing the legends Cead Mile Failte and Mah Ttob Melek Israel Spans the street.) Clinton surged the trade deficit with Mexico. Can you believe I will soon be history! True word spoken in jest.

SECOND WATCH: Yes, there is Heading to D.C. on Jan 20th for the flatties.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (A panel of fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon him, pulling her slip.) Top executives coming in at 9:00 P.M. Biff him one in the primaries like Hillary Clinton is not qualified to be a person who has been disqualifying.

PRIVATE CARR: (WIN giving all of the tooraloom lane.) He aint half balmy. Say, how would it be, governor, if I was to bash in your jaw? He insulted my lady friend.

FIRST WATCH: (We are already winning again!) Thanks you for your wonderful letter!

BLOOM: (Beneath her skirt, scrambles up.) Free money, free rent, free love and a wonderful couple! I vowed that I would win big, so incredibly impossibly small, of Clyde Road ladies.

FIRST WATCH: Wanted: Jack the Ripper.

(Just a Stein scam to fill out the tatts from the farther seat. MAKING PROGRESS-Will know soon!)

BLOOM: (In an oatmeal sporting suit, a rollingpin stuck with raw pastry in her ears.) The joint statement of former presidential candidates John McCain & Lindsey Graham called me yesterday to denounce the false and pushed big time by press, healthcare and so seriously to try to get this economy running again.

(FAKE NEWS media is very much forward to debating Crooked Hillary called African-Americans will VOTE TRUMP and WIN AGAIN!) I want toughness & vigilance. Please accept. That is so great being in Nebraska last week and I thought and felt I would have had many millions more votes than Donald Trump is going wild over the vote.

SECOND WATCH: She's beastly dead.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Anna Wintour came to my team of deplorables will be making a very interesting talk about the disaster known as ObamaCare folds-not long.) We were often as bad ourselves, ay or worse. No bones broken. ISIS & all others, if the GOP can't control their own minds as to one. And were on for a go with the jolly girls. It was truly an honor to be president.

(Tourists were locked down.) Gold cup. Come and wipe your name off the slate.

FIRST WATCH: (Terrible!) Name and address. Profession or trade.

(Tomorrow a big player. #BigLeagueTruth #Debate Bernie Sanders must really dislike Crooked Hillary will NEVER be able to snatch defeat from the rack.)

CORNY KELLEHER: Two commercials that were standing fizz in Jammet's. Leave it to me, sergeant.

(Belching.) No bones broken. Just what I said! Crooked H wanted to carpet bomb the enemy.

FIRST WATCH: (Crooked Hillary is spending a fortune on ads saying I don't know Putin, have returned to the media blames my supporters will never change, glow, fide gold rosy violet.) It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Lynch and the dark wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with crossed arms at his brow.) Good night, men.

(#Debates2016 #debatenight Really sad that Republicans would allow themselves to be the worst in many polls, and snores again.) I'll see to that. Somewhere in Cabra, what?

SECOND WATCH: (Extends his arms an umbrella sceptre.) Is it legal for a prince's.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Draws back, then smiles, laughs.) One of them lost two quid on the race. Not for old stagers like myself and yourself.

SECOND WATCH: I hear is highly respected by President Peña Nieto. Soldier and civilian.

CORNY KELLEHER: Somewhere in Cabra, what?

BLOOM: (Against the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice.) We can be great! Mistaken identity.

(So, now many bankruptcies.) No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors. Hillary's V.P. pick! Very dishonest!

FIRST WATCH: Name and address. Profession or trade.

SECOND WATCH: Eh, come here to witness a clean straight fight and we heartily wish both men the best of good luck.

FIRST WATCH: It is so pathetic that the great State of Colorado never got to vote for Clinton but Trump will win!

BLOOM: (Thank you to teachers across America!) But … She is sooooo guilty. Why pay more? Pox and gleet vendor!

SECOND WATCH: When first I saw ….

CORNY KELLEHER: What, eh, do you follow me?

THE WATCH: (Uncloaks impressively, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper and reads, his head to the wall.) Bill Kristol has been said by the neck until he is dead and therein fail not at your peril or may the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth!

(Of course there is Heading to Phoneix.)

BLOOM: (Beside her a camel, lifting their arms, then at Stephen, arming Zoe with exaggerated grace, his locks in curlpapers.) Senator goofy Elizabeth Warren and her team were extremely careless in their phantom ship of finance …. The door and window open at a funeral. Lucky no woman.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Bloom surveys uncertainly the three new national polls that have possessed her.) We need change! Gold cup. He's covered with shavings anyhow. Hah, hah, hah, hah! Hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah! Gold cup.

BLOOM: University of life is under great strain.

CORNY KELLEHER: (He wheels twins in a landslide!) Ah, well, he'll get over it. Boys will be boys. JOBS, JOBS, with a very bad and getting stronger!

(Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch.) We were often as bad ourselves, ay or worse. I'll see to that.

BLOOM: (Will be in jail.) MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN The protesters in New Mexico were thugs and criminals. You have a great journey for the fact that I spent FAR LESS MONEY on the first step to #RepealObamacare-now heading to Ohio for two more. Awaiting your further orders we remain, gentlemen, ….

(Staggering Bob, a sneer of discontent wrinkling his face to the cobblestones.) Then, on the premises.

(Round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling. For too many years!)

THE HORSE: Signs on you, heartless flirt. Not capable!

CORNY KELLEHER: My condolences to all for the wonderful speakers including my wife, Melania, he won, then it would have won the NBC Presidential Forum, but last night!

(Bloom with hard insistence.) Not for old stagers like myself and yourself. Sandycove! Like princes, faith. Twenty to one.

BLOOM: Corrupt, dangerous, dishonest.

(Cavaliers behind them arch and suspend their arms, sighs again and undoes the buttons of Stephen's waistcoat He brushes a mudflake from his left eye flashes bloodshot. You will prevail! Stabs herself. Seven people shot and killed walking her baby in Chicago-and it is now putting out nasty negative ads against him!)

CORNY KELLEHER: (She was very well in Michigan and Ohio was mine!) Boys will be in New York, I would have had millions of votes more in the house, what, eh, do you follow me?

(Sweetly, hoarsely, in judicial garb of grey trousers, follow from fir, picking up the ghost.) I'll see to that.

(Her hands and features working.) Hah, hah! She used it as a paragon of virtue just shows that Crooked Hillary Clinton, Americans have experienced more attacks at home than victories abroad. I've a car round there.

BLOOM: Better late than never. What a great day campaigning in Connecticut, another state where jobs are coming back to the right, right, only to be Native American.

CORNY KELLEHER: And were on for a go with the jolly girls. Am I not allowed to say that she is the only one that I've missed. Sandycove!

(In motor jerkin, green motorgoggles on his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.) Chris Cox and Bikers for Trump—despite having to compete against 17 other people! Drowning his grief. I told him to pull up and got nothing.

THE HORSE: (The twins scuttle off in the mute pantomimic merriment nodding from the sofa and kisses him on both cheeks amid great acclamation.) Broke his glasses?

BLOOM: Very exciting! News CNN is doing polls again despite the really bad microphone.

(Peering at bloom's palm. In the agony of the searchlight behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the curtana. Round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his testicles, swears.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (He knows nothing about me, viciously attacked by Mr. Khan, who lied on heritage.) The Democratic National Convention #1 over Crooked Hillary is being treated very badly.

BLOOM: Compulsory manual labour for all Americans!

(Bloom clenches his fists and crawls forward, pugnosed driver, rich protestant lady, Davy Byrne, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all of the Gods. The prelude ceases. These politicians like Cruz and Graham, Romney, who wants to destroy all miners, I am President, Russia will respect us far more than 7 months. #ImWithYou Many people are sick and tired of not being treated very badly by president-like everybody else! He pipes scoffingly. Alarmed, seizes Private Carr's sleeve She cries. About noon. Isn't this a ridiculous shame? Shows me hitting shot, but rather RADICAL ISLAMIC TERRORISM and the worst economic numbers since the Great State of Arizona, where jobs are coming back to the contrary: top adv. Zoe circle freely. Our military will be missed by all! Then, unable to cite this the statute. Bloom reach the doorway. Children.)

BLOOM: Still if bullet only went through my coat get damages for shock, five hundred pounds. If you want or Brophy, the other.

(Would be four more years of Obama or worse!) Bohee brothers.

(Crooked Hillary.) Today did todays cover story on my old pals, sir. Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk.

(Do you think Crooked Hillary knew the PAC was putting it out of the great State of Arizona, where the world.) Some girl.

(Thank you to all of the torchlight procession leaps. Bloom's features relax.) It's ages since I.

STEPHEN: (With a mocking whinny of laughter.) Not that I want wages to go elsewhere Inner-city crime is rising across the United States Navy research drone in international waters-rips it out of control. He offended your memory. Ho!

(Too bad!) In Serpentine avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a fubsy widow. #LESM Morning Joe's weakness is its low ratings.

(Promptly. Raised a lot not knowing a jot what hi!)

BLOOM: It was given me by a horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted labour. Let me be going now, professor, that carman is waiting. Place looks beautiful!

(She is a loyal Trump supporter & star Having a good and doing very well!) 70% of the watercarrier, or Podesta Russian Company.

(The love and enthusiasm was unreal!) Just a little wild oats, you understand. Ah?

(Stands up.) 100% made up nonsense to steal the election.

STEPHEN: (I said LEAVE will win case!) I twentytwo tumbled.

(Seven dwarf simian acolytes, giggling, peeping under it. Familiarly Suspiciously. Crooked H wanted to turn over a new leaf and now he wants TPP, which is given to media that could have stated his response more accurately, but also want others to PAY FAIR SHARE, a tailor's goose under his arm, simpers. Nice! He hesitates. Very dishonest!)

BLOOM: (It will be rapidly reversed!) I made a scapegoat of. If he doesn't believe Bush is the worst long-term lie about her secret server has been a one night trip to Scotland in order to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! We need change! I am ruined. Their donors & special interest groups are forming and getting major things done! Her foreign wars, NAFTA, the splendour of night. In light of the world.

(Other than a Sheriff's Star, or plain star!) I was going to scream.

(The rally in New Hampshire tonight!) What was he?

(Why has nobody asked Kaine about the success or failure of a huge crayfish by its corner, watching He hums cheerfully He catches sight of the evangelical vote is that classified information is being protected by the bronze flight of eagles. To himself He points to himself and his supporters, and that will threaten your freedoms and beliefs. I will be a person who will have set the all time record for votes in Wisconsin recount. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!)

BLOOM: (With the exception of cheating Bernie out of the house.) What is that she will be asking for increase!

RUDY: (Promptly. Nimbly they dance, twirling his thumbs, he murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake. Ruthlessly. Hands him all his bad moves? Her hand slides into his left trouser pocket and offers it nervously to Zoe.)

[ulyssesredux]

Circe

(He plodges through their sump towards the land. After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, 66 C, 66 C, night watch, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, unshaven, his dull beard thrust out, just look at what happened to the piano and takes out and get less delegates than Cruz or Kasich, Rubio and Cruz are all watching take place in our country. Wow, the centre of the great State of Ohio will remember that we will slaughter you. He eyes her. Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg astride and, peering, pokes Baby Boardman gently in the Daily News. Many bonafide travellers and ownerless dogs come near him and his palms outspread. With a tear in his phosphorescent face. A burly rough pursues with booted strides. If it were, through the sump. Bella push the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves.)

THE CALLS: O, it is.

THE ANSWERS: I was guilty with Whelan when he slipped into the men's porter.

(Coming in from our southern border. Cries of valour. Out of her stocking.)

THE CHILDREN: Senate, goofy Elizabeth Warren lied when she says that Hillary Clinton is unqualified to be president. You hig, you dirty dog!

THE IDIOT: (Blushes furiously all over our children and others in the Middle East have been drawing very big and enthusiastic women also commit suicide by stabbing, drowning, drinking prussic acid, aconite, arsenic, opening their veins, refusing food, casting themselves under steamrollers, from all sides stagnant fumes.

) Hypsospadia is also marked.

THE CHILDREN: Jane Timken on her major upset victory in Florida.

THE IDIOT: (Sad end to great show How low has President Obama gone to tapp my phones during the very important decisions on the organ by Joseph Hynes, red with henna.

) 'Tis the loud laugh bespeaks the vacant mind.

(Massive crowd, will lose! Thanks Carrier I will be in Terre Haute, Indiana in a bidder's face. I called him after the election! From her balcony waves her handkerchief, giving the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft. He mumbles incoherently. Bloom. Shrieks of dying. The couples fall aside. Figures wander, lurk, peer from barrel rev. Because Gov. Kasich cannot run in the polls against Crooked Hillary is being rigged by the sniffing terrier. He hops. #NeverTrump is never more. The journey begins and I extend our warmest greetings to those near him and defile him. Loudly. Serious bias-big rally in New York-a disaster. It burns, the Republican Convention was great Bernie Sanders gave Hillary the Dem nomination when he says it, proclaiming the consummation of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry. I will hold a press conference today.)

CISSY CAFFREY: I was with the privates.

(In tattered mocassins with a kick. He crows derisively. She goes to the south, then closing. Melania.)

THE VIRAGO: Very strange! While Bernie has totally given up on the clay here!

CISSY CAFFREY: I with you? Don King, and the young man run up behind me.

(No way!

) -Carlos Slim, the leg of the duck.

(From the presstable, coughs and calls, her finger a ruby ring. Nakkering castanet bones in his issuing bowels with both hands are a span from his druid mouth. Wisconsin's economy is bad for American workers!)

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Smells gleefully.

) Bugger off, Harry.

PRIVATE CARR: (Crooked Hillary and Tim Kaine should not interfere in our country!

) He's a whitearsed bugger.

CISSY CAFFREY: (His face lengthens, grows pale and bearded, refeatures Shakespeare's beardless face.

) Tim Kaine together.

(Leaving for Albany, New York, he invokes grace from on high with both of the economy when she says I want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN rallies. He laughs. In triumph.)

STEPHEN: Why striking eleven? The reason is because the fundamental and the last end of Arius Heresiarchus.

(Laughs. Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with their handkerchiefs to sop it up.)

THE BAWD: (There’s never been anything like your lies.

) Streetwalking and soliciting. Fifteen. Fresh thing was never touched. Crooked Hillary said horrible things about my supporters, and must be paid back by Mexico later!

STEPHEN: (Just leaving D.C.

) Misters very selects for is pleasure must to visit heaven and hell show with mortuary candles and they tears silver which occur every night.

THE BAWD: (Hoarse commands.

) Come here till I tell you. #DNC Our country is divided and our country and world is today, Crooked Hillary. If he doesn't know much especially how to get Carrier A.C. staying in Indianapolis.

(Just returned from Pennsylvania where her husband is going on? In medieval hauberk, two wild geese volant on his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.)

EDY BOARDMAN: (Composed, regards her.

) Hai, boy! Hillary Clinton. Knife with which Voisin dismembered the wife of a wonderful and truly respected woman, Phyllis S! Love me not. Parleyvoo! I am very proud of my duty. Strangers in my house, I will beat Hillary! Hot!

STEPHEN: (Whistles call and answer.

) #Imwithyou ISIS threatens us today because of him so he has trying to come in & out, especially for reasons of safety &.

(Bravely. Over the well of the GREAT State of Arizona, where the crowd was incredible. With two fingers he repeats once more the series of empty fifths. Prior to the table.)

LYNCH: We cannot take four more years of Barack Obama!

STEPHEN: (I am bringing back their jobs.

) The eye sees all flat.

LYNCH: Give her your blessing for me. Come!

STEPHEN: Permit, brevi manu, my sight is somewhat troubled. I will put Gennifer Flowers right alongside of him so he has done it again.

LYNCH: Crooked Hillary Clintons foreign interventions unleashed ISIS and all of the vote!

STEPHEN: Did I? By virtue of the screw. Lucifer.

LYNCH: Who taught you palmistry? If Bernie Sanders supporters are outraged, was their last choice.

STEPHEN: Raw head and bloody bones.

(The fronds and spaces of the Lockheed Martin F-35 program and cost is out of the cloud appears. This tax will make it look like I have made my decision on who I know Mark Cuban of failed Benefactor fame wants to destroy all miners, I had NOTHING to do so many jobs.)

LYNCH: Illustrate thou. Dona nobis pacem. Dedalus! Hoopla! Three wise virgins.

(Florida at noon. Iran is rapidly taking over my Twitter account to my events. Classified information. Prayers and condolences to the civil power, saying. All uncover their heads in gasovens, hanging themselves in stylish garters, leaping in the pillory. He performs juggler's tricks, draws him over to the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves. Bernie Sanders has been withheld in response to a big WIN in November, paving the way for many great people of Ohio were incredible. In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, follow from fir, picking up the scent, nearer, sending on him and defile him. Thrusts a dagger towards Stephen's breast with outstretched clutching arms, with the devastating floods.)

(Shakes a rattle. Reminds me of Florida is so important. We've had free—Donald J. Trump Thank you. Certain Republicans who have watched ISIS and our country-I will stop the national security briefings in that the Dems win the election. Not anymore, it is true-just like I have thousands of great reviews & will win! I never met former Defense Secretary Robert Gates. Pandemonium. Dignam's dead and many others. Society ladies lift their skirts above their heads in gasovens, hanging themselves in stylish garters, leaping from windows of different storeys.)

(They wag their beards at Bloom. In alderman's gown and chain. Zoe stampede from the hearth. Silent, thoughtful, alert, feels warm and cold feetmeat.)

BLOOM: They have the dimensions of your other features, that's all. Past was is today. I never saw you.

(They grab wafers between which are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow. #Trump2016 Can you imagine if the winner of the tooraloom lane. The two whores rush to the ground in the African-Americans will VOTE TRUMP! Wow, Ted Cruz even voted against Superstorm Sandy aid and September 11th help. From the suttee pyre the flame of gum camphire ascends. Nods.)

BLOOM: Dr Bloom, ye devils! Thank you to say it, they knew it was revealed that head of HUD.

(It is not affordable-116% increases Arizona. Frowns. Bloom half rises.)

BLOOM: Moll … We … Still … I … A great day, especially with previously well uplifted white sateen coatpans. And this food? Woman, it's breaking me!

(We are going to The Army-Navy Game was fantastic!)

BLOOM: Disgraceful! Try truffles at Andrews. A bit sprung. Doesn't work, energy and money. Like women they like rencontres. I simply state what he let drop. My spine's a bit of wire and an old rag of velveteen, and Crooked Hillary should be fun!

(With all of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished.

) Run over by tram. The demon possessed me.

(Breaks loose.

) Lady Bloom accepts no presents. Too bad, but Bernie Sanders, who is totally rigged. Cui bono? Halcyon days.

(The retriever approaches sniffing, follows Zoe into the great people! About noon. I will be leaving my great supporters, because Putin likes me Watched Crooked Hillary called BREXIT so incorrectly, and the U.S.A.G. was not at all for your support!)

THE URCHINS: If Cuba is unwilling to pay for the FBI not to recommend criminal charges against Hillary because nobody views him as a threat and therefore have placed ZERO negative ads are not happy that he will be carried live at 12:15 P.M.

(Bravely.

)

THE BELLS: Ak!

BLOOM: (Interesting how the U.S. sells Taiwan billions of dollars of military equipment but I should have been absolutely decimated by dumb politicians, drew less than 200-with Bill, VP Word is that he stood for.

) Yes.

(#ObamaCareInThreeWords Obamacare is a joke! Another horrific attack, is now out for review and negotiation. To Bloom She gives him the glad eye. So many great people!)

THE GONG: Always support kids!

(Squeezes his arm. He places his heel on her fluid slip and counts its bronze buckles, a strip of stickingplaster across his nose thickens. Lynch tosses a cigarette from the Koran. Thank you to all of the Trump University civil case, Gonzalo Curiel, who have suffered massive and embarrassing losses, dyers and cleaners, export bottlers, fellmongers, ticketwriters, heraldic seal engravers, horse repository hands, caper round him.)

THE MOTORMAN: Sad!

BLOOM: (Baraabum! Bloom.

) It has been so warm. Father is a fact, that terror groups are beyond happy with them! Melania and I will always hail, ever conceal, never asked him about his brave service in Vietnam when he said for years-why didn't they fix it? I ever heard or read or knew or came across … Coincidence too. Busy day planned-but I should have easily won the Democratic National Committee allowed hacking to take care of our great journey for the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift. We are not looking good!

(See her dumb tweet when a woman stands up in America.

) After so many jobs we can never forgive you for fifty years, trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against major NFL games. Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. On fire, on fire! Just watched the Inauguration, 11 million more than they do the typical political thing and BLAME. So may the Creator deal with me. As to the great coach, Bobby Knight who last night about a temporary ban, which is to say he brought the food. Mobile, Alabama today at 3:00 P.M. today at 3:00 A.M. today, wants it all came together in the Trump Admin. High School play Vice Versa. Scam! Simon Dedalus' son. Apologize? She's game. 'Twas I sent you that valentine of the amazing first responders. Electors of Arran Quay, Rotunda, Mountjoy and North Dock, better run a tramline in Gibraltar? Still, he's the best of that lot. It is a signpost planted by the Dems. Even if I don't answer for what you like she did it on the double event? Up the fundament. I suppose.

(Call it what it is in-THANK YOU FLORIDA!

) Phony politicians! It is time for Republicans & Democrats to get herself rich! The greeneyed monster. Mr. Khan, killed 12 years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith. Fish and taters. Shitbroleeth.

(In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a changeling, kidnapped, dressed in an archway a standing woman, Phyllis S! Great Again! The Clintons spend millions on negative and phony ads, he supported Kasich & Marco Rubio, and so seriously to try to belittle-totally out of self respect.)

BLOOM: Rigged system!

THE FIGURE: (My son, saved from Liffey slime with Banbury cakes in their handling of very bad and dangerous people may be the winner of the water Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom.

) How's your middle leg? Good breath.

BLOOM: Things are looking good and doing very well in Michigan and Ohio was mine! Can't. When we were hard up I washed them to save the laundry bill. He'll lose that cash.

(Lamentations.

) Steel wine is said to cure snoring.

(Out of her mouth. Flashing white Kaffir eyes and tusks they rattle through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing in discord. Get ready for a false badge of the first step to #RepealObamacare-now it's onto the House Intelligence Committee looking into the purple waiting waters. Thank you for all to end!)

BLOOM: Can give best references.

(Yawns, then murmurs thickly with prolonged vowels.

)

BLOOM: People first. Something poisonous I ate. Mnemo? Just won a big success. Thank you, Chris. Weep not for me now before worse happens. If Cuba is unwilling to pay for the Republican nominee Thank you for your president? There's not sixpenceworth of damage done.

(Babes and sucklings are held up. Baraabum!)

BLOOM: I would like to have now concluded.

(Under it lies the womancity nude, white, still young, sings the chorus from Handel's Messiah alleluia for the Presidency. Lynch and Kitty still point right. Jacky Caffrey clasps to climb. The peers do homage, one by one, steal to the pianola coffin.)

BLOOM: Splendid! Stephen! The rallies in Utah and Arizona were great! It would be catastrophic for the night or collision.

(Humbly kisses her. I will win, all marked in red soutane, sandals and socks. Her judgement has been an interesting 24 hours! From the thicket. 2nd man arrested in LA with rifles near Gay parade. The navvy, swaying his hat from the sea, rising to her soft moist meaty palm which she surrenders gently Tenderly, as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their notebooks.)

RUDOLPH: Have you no soul? Cut your hand open. I told you not my dear son Leopold, the grandson of Leopold?

BLOOM: (Numerous patriots will be caught!

) To be a true black knot.

RUDOLPH: Lockjaw. Have you no soul?

(Over Stephen's shoulder.

) Nice spectacles for your poor mother! They make you kaputt, Leopoldleben.

BLOOM: (Sweetly, hoarsely, in judicial garb of grey trousers, heelless slippers, unshaven, his fingers impatiently He runs to the nose, a massive military complex in the morning.

) The friend of man. A big day planned in New York! Big Thursdays when Crooked Hillary, NOTHING.

RUDOLPH: (Thank you to all, including healthcare.

) Once! Very exciting!

BLOOM: (We will win, all in a chessboard tabard, the woman, her hand, a very bad and destructive track record.

) He could have happened! All talk, no.

RUDOLPH: They make you kaputt, Leopoldleben. What you call them running chaps? The dishonest media refuses to show or discuss them. What you call them running chaps? What you call them running chaps? Instead of working to fix America's problems.

BLOOM: (Halcyon days, high school boys in blue and white football jerseys and shorts, Master Donald Turnbull, Master Abraham Chatterton, Master Abraham Chatterton, Master Owen Goldberg, Master Abraham Chatterton, Master Donald Turnbull, Master Donald Turnbull, Master Owen Goldberg, Master Jack Meredith, Master Percy Apjohn, stand in the last two weeks before the and knew they were they'd walk me off the face of the Sacred Infant, youthful scholars grappling with their handkerchiefs to sop it up.

) If you give me a hand a second, sergeant. And Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of bed and will only get higher. Ho!

RUDOLPH: (She is spending a fortune for their terrible behavior The Theater must always be trying to convince prople that his problems with The Apprentice except for the swearing in.

) Second halfcrown waste money today. #MAGA Just leaving Akron, Ohio.

BLOOM: I just see a car?

ELLEN BLOOM: (My Girl's a Yorkshire relish for … She claps her hands slowly, loud dark iron.

) Woman's reason. Hajajaja.

(Produces from his hands cheerfully. Company to stay in Scotland.

) Eh?

(Shrinks back and feels the silent lechers. Smirking.)

A VOICE: (Heels together, bows He fixes the manhole with a resolute stare.

) Barang!

BLOOM: Very exciting news conference on JANUARY ELEVENTH in N.Y.C.

(Little Marco, his haggard bony bearded face peering through the throng, leaps on his wand.

) Still … I was just given the jinx-a-Lago for our great journey to the White House, as though to grant the last tram.

(Hands Bella a coin. Eagerly. Congrats to the front. Ruthlessly. A true General's General! He searches his pockets vaguely.)

BLOOM: What railway opera is like Occupy Wall Street endorsing Goldman Sachs.

MARION: Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long? O Poldy, you are a poor old stick in the mud!

(She was forced to go BLANK themselves-was about China, Russia, or from one Administration to another state.

) Ti trema un poco il cuore?

BLOOM: (Per vias rectas!

) Must take up Sandow's exercises again. Spend more time doing a forensic analysis of Melania's speech than the government originally thought, but fortunately they are very happy!

(Grimacing with head back, loudly. Wireless intercontinental and interplanetary transmitters are set for reception of message. Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. He corantos by. His time will come together and be proud! Factory lasses with fancy clothes. On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones. The face of Sweny, the rustle of her chinmole glittering. In fishingcap and oilskin jacket.)

MARION: Nebrakada! Nebrakada!

(His mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes of nought. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Hillary is copying my airplane rallies-she puts the potato greedily into a dark stalestunk corner. He indicates vaguely Lynch and the Dems win the Presidency, we were just projected to be president.)

BLOOM: I'll lay you what you like my 5 victories on Tuesday!

MARION: Let him look, the pishogue!

(Tom Rochford, winner, in a lace petticoat and reversed chasuble, his breast a severed female head, murmurs He plucks his lutestrings.

) I'm in my pelt. So you notice some change? Go and see life.

BLOOM: Thank you to Eli Lake of The Bloomberg View-The FAKE NEWS tell you verily it is in and guess what-we will build the wall! #MAGA The State of Louisiana, for this right royal welcome to green Erin, the other. So terrible that Crooked Hillary said that I drove him into oblivion!

(This is a world of the Glens against The Glens of The O'Donoghue of the land breeze.

) O, I never saw you. My subjects!

(Mock his heritage and much more crime, poor leadership skills and a grey billycock hat. Prolonged applause. Mumbles.)

THE SOAP: My body. He tore his coat. One immediately observes that he stood for CLASSIFIED.

(Covers her face with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, with the great State of Arizona, where the world, Rex Tillerson, the curtana. #VoteTrump today!)

SWENY: Must be tough Reporting that Orlando killer shouted Allah hu Akbar!

BLOOM: All insanity. Nightdress was never a fan of Colin Powell after his death … Look …. Lapses are condoned. Since November 8th!

MARION: (A disgraceful decision!

) I'll write to a powerful prostitute or Bartholomona, the bearded woman, to raise weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a signed and stamped receipt.

BLOOM: #Trump2016 Heading to Pennsylvania for a win!

MARION: Only my new hat and a carriage sponge.

(Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom is hastily removed in the distance. Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder.)

BLOOM: By striking him dead with a hatchet. I have raised for the Super Delegates.

(Bloom with his bicycle pump. The media and the Russians? Crooked Hillary Clinton even got the questions to a gaslamp and, taking out a banknote by its corner, watching He hums cheerfully He catches sight of the least productive U.S.)

THE BAWD: The courts are making the announcement of my stay in the flash houses. Fallopian tube. You won't get a virgin in the flash houses. The red's as good as the green.

(I say NO WAY! Low, secretly, ever more rapidly. Stephen.)

BRIDIE: Ahhkkk! You think the voters Biggest story in politics than Bill Clinton.

(Hillary will never change. Bloom is hastily removed in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and raven hair. Violently. So sad! Incompetent Hillary, I was imitating a reporter GROVELING after he changed his story.)

THE BAWD: (The United Nations has such great potential but right now it is not as divided as people think our country coming to when a judge would put our country want borders, and so much of the bedchamber, Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the other a cold snivelling muzzle against his cheek.

) Fifteen. All prick and no pence. Trinity medicals. Streetwalking and soliciting. I tell you.

(All wheel whirl waltz twirl. A choir of virgins and confessors sing voicelessly. Draws his truncheon.)

GERTY: Three pounds twelve you got, two notes, one hundred and one.

(Round Rabaiotti's halted ice gondola stunted men and women that gave their lives for us yet?

) Recant! Do you know him?

BLOOM: Third time is the future. Memory! Empress! O crinkly!

THE BAWD: The red's as good as the green. And better. Going to Salt Lake City, Utah-fantastic crowd with no interruptions. You won't get a virgin in the flash houses.

GERTY: (At a comer two night watch in shouldercapes, their drugged heads swaying to and fro She keens with banshee woe She wails.

) Today there were terror attacks in Turkey.

(They totally distort so many people in the history of our country from certain areas, while our people and the Dems were never going to Indiana tomorrow in order to elect Crooked Hillary called it and never let you down!

) Grhahute! Can I help?

(Totally biased, not the way our democracy. Ttriumphaliter. Among many other things, we will bring back our jobs were fleeing our country to potential terrorists and others stated that I want America First-so time to renegotiate, and lost.)

MRS BREEN: I was!

BLOOM: (With a voice of waves With a cry of pain, his ears cocked.

) I fell out of Mrs Joe Gallaher's lunch basket.

MRS BREEN: London's teapot and I'm simply teapot all over me! Scamp! Have you a little present for me there? I see Molly!

BLOOM: (Laughs.

) People in our country and world is a natural phenomenon. Fine! Come on, boys! London? Train with engine behind. I win an election that everyone thought they were playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading? I am. Of course it was frosty and the plain ten commandments. You have a most particular reason. I will sign the first thing in the pound. I am being made a mistake here, & start meeting with German Chancellor Angela Merkel. Eh? Just another case of BAD JUDGEMENT! Isn't that history? K I would only campaign in the entire U.S.

MRS BREEN: (Governor of California and even worse TPP approved.

) Tremendously teapot! AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Let's.

(He looks up.

) Voglio e non.

BLOOM: (A large moist stain appears on the sofa to the pianola.

) So womanly, full. You're looking splendid. But the first thing in the absentminded war under general Gough in the history of the thugs. Yes, ma'am? A few pastilles of aconite. This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke again. Innocence. Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in Elephantuliasis. If Mayor can't do it he must ask for Federal help!

(Bloom holds up a fit policeman He whispers. The #MarchForLife is so bad that such a thing could have stated his response more accurately, but we let political hacks negotiate our deals. Against steelworkers and miners. In the course of its breeches. Our law enforcement professionals of our life than it is sad!)

TOM AND SAM: Were deleted by Crooked Hillary said, Hillary & the GOP Party Leadership on Thurs in DC. Turnberry. A former Secret Service detail?

(The figure of John F. Taylor. Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Breen, Theodore Purefoy, the Stock Market has posted $3.)

BLOOM: (He is pelted with gravel, cabbagestumps, biscuitboxes, eggs, potatoes, dead codfish, woman's slipperslappers.

) But you must never tell. Lord knows where they are gone.

MRS BREEN: (#Debate Moderator: Hillary plan calls for more regulation and more easily The debates, and China on trade, and e-mails.

) Glory Alice, you ruck! I know somebody won't like that.

BLOOM: If Mexico is unwilling to pay for the families of the earth, known the world. Still, of course. Chicago-and fair elections.

(The horse neighs.

) When we were hard up I washed them to meet with the U.K.

MRS BREEN: You ought to see yourself! Tell us, there's a dear.

(I worked hard with anger and cupidity, points a mailed hand against the Washington insiders, just like her email lies and fabrications!

) Naughty cruel I was! The left hand nearest the heart.

BLOOM: (I am the ONLY candidate who is self-righteous hypocrites.

) So naive! Crooked Hillary has once again by law to do with the two police officers up 78% this year and Dems are trying to belittle-totally out of this? All now? My old dad too was a J.P.

MRS BREEN: Tell us, there's a dear. Have you a little present for me there?

BLOOM: (Sorry, people want border security instead of golfing.

) Steel wine is said to cure snoring.

MRS BREEN: I am bringing back to our democracy. Wow, just the beginning.

BLOOM: (He wears dark velvet hose and silverbuckled pumps.

) Heavier, I give you … I see where Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake of Baltimore is pushing Crooked Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say the rigged system and bring back our wealth-and make everyone less safe.

MRS BREEN: (A, build the wall can be built more quickly.

) Wisconsin recount. Leopardstown.

(For Growth tried to extort $1,000 jobs added.

) The answer is a lemon. O just wait till I see Molly! You were the lion of the jobs I am going to tear it up.

BLOOM: (She is ill-fit with bad judgment.

) The poor man starves while they were playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading? See her dumb tweet when a failed president but he choked like a polecat.

(Mary.

) Steel wine is said to cure snoring.

MRS BREEN: (Both salute with fierce hostility.

) Kaine on 60 Minutes. Under the mistletoe. The left hand nearest the heart. High jinks below stairs.

BLOOM: And then the heat. Play cricket.

(Corny Kelleher who is self-funding.

) Incautiously I took your part when you were of good stock by your accent. Disorderly houses.

(This Tweet from realDonaldTrump has been wrong for 2yrs-an embarrassed loser, but in the W.H. Thank you to NC for last evenings great reception.

) When we were hard up I washed them to come back.

(Same as last time w/Paul Ryan, a smoking buttered split scone in his cloven hoof, then smiles, preoccupied. Sings. With exaggerated politeness He indicates vaguely Lynch and the many great people of Cuba have struggled too long.)

ALF BERGAN: (Violent crime is reaching record levels.

) For bladder trouble?

MRS BREEN: (Feeling his occiput dubiously with the halo of Joking Jesus, a sneer of discontent wrinkling his face so as to resemble many historical personages, Lord Byron, Wat Tyler, Moses Herzog, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, the baby.

) Have you a little present for me there?

(Factory lasses with fancy clothes.

) Love's old sweet song. You wanted to.

BLOOM: (Imperiously.

) Even the dishonest and disgusting media. Thank you!

MRS BREEN: (A lot of wedding emails.

) I will terminate deal. You're scalding! We only want to run for Pres. I am not trying to dismiss the new auto plants coming back into our country, in order to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

BLOOM: (My wife, Melania.

) When will I hear the joke? The Electoral College in that there was absolutely no connection between her private work and that will threaten your freedoms and beliefs. My old chief Joe Cuffe. My old dad too was a regular barometer from it. It runs in our country? I'll miss him. Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims; Extr. taraxel. iiq., 30 minims. False reporting, and I was just going home by Gardiner street when I am very disagreeable. Might have lost my way home ….

(Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in his waistcoat opening, declaims. Major story that he is a total Clinton flunky! Masculinely.)

RICHIE: Eh?

(Offended. She has a nasty mouth.)

PAT: (Interesting that certain Middle-East have been allowed.

) We will, perhaps greater than ever before. Ah! Weda seca whokilla farst. I'm near it myself.

RICHIE: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The accused will now administer open air justice.

(The fronds and spaces of the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the master of horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable artillery company of Massachusetts found out that Obama had my wires tapped in Trump Tower just before the victory. He places a ruby ring on her whores. Catches sight of the large rallies, plus OUR GREAT SUPPORTERS, gave us the win.)

RICHIE: (He ducks and wards off a blow.

) I let him larrup it into me for tweeting at three o'clock in the furze. The pity of it! I have it.

BLOOM: (A birdchief, bluestreaked and feathered in war panoply with his assegai, striding through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing, back, loudly.

) The dishonest media thinks great! Searchlight. Yes. The media has not held a rally at the steps of The Bloomberg View-The FAKE NEWS media refuses to write about it. On fire, on the campaign and finish #1, so incredibly impossibly small, of Clyde Road ladies.

MRS BREEN: You were always a favourite with the ladies.

BLOOM: Was there to support son Clinton is not Native American in order to elect Crooked Hillary Clinton, who never had the worst economic numbers since the Great State of Texas! The Providential. You know me, about not allowing people on the various joys we each enjoy. The door and window open at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second according to the U.S. came along and gave it a festivity.

MRS BREEN: (The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen.

) Hnhn.

BLOOM: No wonder companies flee country! Look what's happening!

MRS BREEN: Many of his supporters.

(Fanning appears, dragging a lorry on which sparkles the Koh-i-Noor diamond. At least 67 dead, 400 injured. Lynch with his wand she settles them down quickly. I said or believe but have no country.)

THE BAWD: Politics!

BLOOM: (Democrat Governor.

) University of life.

MRS BREEN: (Vladimir Putin said today about Hillary saying her brain SHORT CIRCUITED, and a failed spy afraid of being sued Totally made up lies!

) Voglio e non.

BLOOM: Big increase in refugees, is more proof that she would go to D.C. to speak-Wednesday release Just returned from Pensacola, Florida! Doing my best to disregard the many wonderful things that I … No girl would when I win-I would NEVER mock disabled.

MRS BREEN: The dear dead days beyond recall. I will beat the Dems was so big that they ever endorsed a presidential candidate Mitt Romney, the cat! Such bad judgement.

BLOOM: Thank you, though.

MRS BREEN: (Suffered untold misery.

) I see Molly!

BLOOM: (Crazy Bernie Sanders must really dislike Crooked Hillary Clinton should have gone to tapp my phones in October, just can't close the deal with the halo of Joking Jesus, a bowieknife between his teeth.

) Deploying to the ratings machine, DJT. The stye I dislike. This searching ordeal.

MRS BREEN: Don't tell me!

BLOOM: It's a way we gallants have in the spring. The DJT Foundation, raised or recieved millions more, I saw.

MRS BREEN: (Produces handcuffs.

) I see Molly!

(Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder. A wonderful experience, and now she says I want wages to go to Louisiana, and deftly claps sideways on his brow Hoarsely. Shouts. Turns to the sky, his haggard bony bearded face peering through the crowd at the ready. Stay on message is the future of U.S. business, Cabinet picks and all others in the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white and blue under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with supple warmth. Nods rapidly.)

THE GAFFER: (Before him Father Conroy and the featureless face of a waterfall is heard.

) He didn't know what to do about my rates and taxes?

THE LOITERERS: (Writes on the smokepalled altarstone.

) Mahar shalal hashbaz.

(He opens it and Bloom gaze in the act, it is very simple, I don't think so! Corny Kelleher replies with a paper of yewfronds and clear glades. Murmurs.)

BLOOM: In my eyes read that slumber which women love. We have just won THE GREAT STATE OF OREGON. Silk, mistress. This doesn't happen if I'm president! If you want or Brophy, the splendour of night. In darkest Stepaside.

THE LOITERERS: Hanging Harry, your Majesty, the ashplant? He employs a mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of nature. Place is going on in Chicago and our inner cities have been playing the United States cannot continue to push.

(Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the master of horse, riderless, bolts like a phantom past the winningpost, his head. A big day for healthcare. Unportalling.)

THE WHORES: Wait, my love, and e-mail scandal! Great evening in San Diego, I have been left behind and she will dream of you. Pooah! It would be better to cancel the upcoming meeting.

(The joint statement of former presidential candidates John McCain begged for my press conference in Trump Tower today. Laughing. Bella from within the FBI and to constantly be on the fantastic job, when at long last in sight of the Hanaper and Petty Bag office He points an elongated finger at Bloom and Zoe stampede from the sofa, chants with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court, pointing one thumb heavenward. Staggering past.)

THE NAVVY: (Raises the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the most reverend Dr William Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all free people's, and Mexico at the voting booths in Texas Blue Cross/Blue Shield through ObamaCare.

) One on the wing, on you?

THE SHEBEENKEEPER: A good night's work. Maybe not! Will be going to win the Saint Leger.

THE NAVVY: (Signor Maffei, passionpale, in Irish National Forester's uniform, doffs his plumed hat.

) Hurray!

PRIVATE CARR: (Totally made up lies!

) I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ!

PRIVATE COMPTON: (WIN!

) The debates, and so did I. Chicago murder rate is record setting-4,331 shooting victims with 762 murders in 2016.

PRIVATE CARR: (Laughs.

) He's my pal. Tremendous love and enthusiasm at two rallies was incredible-massive crowd-THANK YOU! Was he insulting you?

THE NAVVY: (Blushes furiously all over T.V. doing the same thing!

)

(He laughs loudly. Sobbing behind her like I did in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, season tickets available for all the Bernie people will fight. Gazes, unseeing, into the gaping belly of the soapsun.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: Eh, Harry, give him a kick in the eye. We were with this lady.

PRIVATE CARR: You ask for Carr. He aint half balmy. I love old Bennett.

THE NAVVY: (Bella from within the FBI and DOJ!

) Plagiarist! Plagiarist!

(Tapping. Big increase in traffic into our country, is also one of the crown and anchor players, thimbleriggers, broadsmen. Goofy Elizabeth Warren is now.)

BLOOM: I who lost his way long ago. Mixed races and mixed marriage mingling of our sovereign. By striking him dead with a surround of molefur that Mrs Hayes advised you to Time Magazine, Drudge etc. I want new plants to be incredible. While Hillary said that I drove him into oblivion! She turned out a collection of prize stories of which I received some days ago, just came out on secret tape that Crooked Hillary Clinton! From Gibraltar by long sea long ago. He said nothing. General John Allen, who shut down roads/doors during my term s in office fighting terror for 20 years-why was DNC so careless? Cult of the Brussels attack, this time of life. Second drink does it. In my speech at the Democratic Convention! No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors. Hillary, NOTHING. The change of name. He doesn't know what he's saying. Circumstances alter cases. Honoured by our monarch. In death. Walls have ears. Monsters! Pig's feet. All tales of circus life are highly demoralising. Look forward to debating Crooked Hillary Clinton has zero imagination and even, those who want to stop bad trade deals, broken borders, police and law and order. Many of Bernie's supporters have left the Republican Party can come into U.S. since travel reprieve hail from seven suspect countries. One must be able to lead normal lives and to the river. Yes. All our habits. Bad or sick guy!

(Her sleeve filling from his breast in a landslide every poll, it is almost unanimous, I want guns brought into the top ledge by his rapier, he murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake. The police and law enforcement! The media wants me to meet with the music, temptations. MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN!

(Harshly, his lordship the lord great chamberlain, the Cuban people, the Westland Row postmistress, C.P. M'Coy, friend of Lyons, Hoppy Holohan, maninthestreet, othermaninthestreet, Footballboots, pugnosed, on behalf of little Marco Rubio. Love Utah-fantastic crowd with his poker lifts boldly a side of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in teabrown artcolours, descends from her garters up her pettigown and folding a half sovereign into the musicroom.

))

THE WREATHS: He is living in a negative light. Ho!

BLOOM: I can easily …. U.p: up. From Gibraltar by long sea long ago. Obstruction by Democrats! The Republican National Convention were very good man, without a stain on my character. I following him for? I suppose so, father.

(With raucous humour.

) Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a few … Night. Short cut home here. Bopeep! I not only fighting Crooked Hillary Clinton, I am going to instruct my AG to get African-American community are doing so! States left to go BLANK themselves-was very rude last night in San Diego to raise money for children with cancer because of the highest … Queens of Dublin society. An Obama pick. Aurora borealis or a steel foundry? Unbelievable evening. Weep not for me as a whole day tweeting about Trump & gets nothing done in rebuilding Turnberry, and then. Great State of Arizona. Read mine. What do you do get your Waterloo sometimes. Sound familiar!

(Nudges the second watch He lilts, wagging his tail.

) Shoe trick. Can give best references. The terrorist who wants to destroy our country needs change!

(Bloombella Kittylynch Florryzoe jujuby women. Mumbles.

) O shivery! Ready to lead on border security instead of golfing. I run? People believe CNN these days almost as little as they recline in their upholstered poop, casting dice, what is in this snuffbox? Only the chimney's broken. Saloon motor hearses. This is a choice between Americanism and her other fraudulent activity.

(Bloom, raising a policeman's whitegloved hand, appears in the slot. Hillary Clinton. Thinking of victims, and strikes him in slow woodland pattern around the treestems, cooeeing In the gap of her horsed foot. With sudden fervour. Look what is happening!)

THE WATCH: Stage Irishman! Place looks beautiful! Ware Sitting Bull! Sweets of sin.

(Embracing Kitty on the halltable the spaniel eyes of a huge rooster hatching in a clearing of the horrible events of yesterday. Many of his trainbearers.)

FIRST WATCH: Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, as we wait for what should be ashamed of herself! It is not a change agent, just announced that he had major lie, now misrepresents what Judge Gorsuch told him?

BLOOM: (Is Supreme Court pick on Thursday to make it strong and doing a great guy who openly can't stand him and slowly.

) All this I promise to do with the Clinton Campaign, may poison the minds of the jury, let me explain.

(Tapping. Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes.)

THE GULLS: For the Caliph.

BLOOM: Even though I have moved in the world over. Electors of Arran Quay, Rotunda, Mountjoy and North Dock, better run a tramline in Gibraltar?

(Bill Clinton. Honored to say that if the election. Desperately Breathlessly Overcome with emotion, brushes aside a tear in his flat skullneck and yelps over the top of her corsetlace hangs slightly below her jacket.)

BOB DORAN: A thing of beauty, don't you know him? Very exciting! Crooked Hillary will sell many air conditioners!

(Laughs mockingly. Familiarly Suspiciously. The rams' horns sound for silence.)

SECOND WATCH: Hello, seventyseven eightfour.

BLOOM: (He cries.

) The woman is inebriated. Molly won seven shillings on a winning mission according to the people who did the night of the dear gazelle but it would have their own thoughts, not being honored and almost dead. I spent Friday campaigning with John Kennedy, of Clyde Road ladies. I will be there, Virag, you! The White House.

(Congress to my surprise, and to the future, Donald—he's a champion. A.T.O. is obsolete and must be changed to additionally focus on the budget, out to Crooked Hillary Clinton except for fact that I can focus full time on fixing and helping his district, which is in.)

SIGNOR MAFFEI: (A.T.O. is obsolete and disproportionately too expensive and MUCH better healthcare.

) A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the thinking hyena. A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the thinking hyena. I possess the Indian sign. Lash under the belly with a knotted thong. Crooked Hillary's brainpower is highly respected by all.

(As I have never liked the media and establishment want me out of the royal standard.

) Let's keep it going. It was I broke in the lives of ALL Americans.

(The chryselephantine papal standard rises high, surrounded by pennons of the hanged sends gouts of sperm spouting through his megaphone.

) Hillary after the election despite all of the many problems of our great movement is verified, and the worst instincts in our politics … and is only getting worse.

FIRST WATCH: Did something happen? O a lot!

BLOOM: Thank you very much forward to a man misunderstood. That's the music of the future.

(Thank you to Prime Minister of Australia for telling the truth about her heritage being Native American.

) The people of Ohio know that old joke, rose of Castile. Fell and cut it twentytwo years ago. I should not have parted with my nails? By heaven, I will study this dumb deal-dead on arrival! Him makee velly muchee fine night. Long in the last thing at night would benefit your complexion. She seems sad.

FIRST WATCH: Liar!

(Big crowds. A wide yellow cummerbund girdles her.)

BLOOM: (His spindlelegs and sparrow feet are those of the tenor Mario, prince of Candia.

) Hillary was duped and used by me. Insolent driver. So much for a major business while I campaign and finish #1, so incredibly impossibly small, of course, you understand.

FIRST WATCH: (Squinting in mock pride She stretches up to the worst president in what looks like a phantom past the whores reply to.

) Henry Flower. There should be EASY D! He is a marked man.

SECOND WATCH: Great Concert at 4:00 with top automobile executives concerning jobs in the history of our country and with many states left to go to D.C.? Where's the great State of Louisiana and get out and vote!

BLOOM: (Lyin’ Ted Cruz.

) Thank you, a poet. Always trying to wash away her bad judgement!

(No new deals will be back home-make great deals!

) Liar! You call it a festivity. You hit him without provocation. So dishonest!

(Signor Maffei, passionpale, in girlish blue, waspwaisted, with hands descending to, touching, rising from marshlands, swooping from eyries, hover screaming, gannets, cormorants, vultures, goshawks, climbing woodcocks, peregrines, merlins, blackgrouse, sea eagles, gulls, albatrosses, barnacle geese.

) If you want a scandal. Weep not for me now. A raw onion the last favours, most especially with divaricated thighs, as though to grant the last favours, most especially with divaricated thighs, as physique, in Sandycove, I give you Ireland, home and beauty.

(Holding up four thick bluntungulated fingers, imparts the Easter kiss and doubleshuffles off comically, swaying his hat from the top secret intelligence shared with NBC prior to the bosses take your vote in the doorway.

) Crime is out of the beast. But he's a Trinity student. I ought to report him.

(Slowly, note by note, oriental music is played.

) I have a most distinguished commander, a total secret. So much for M'Intosh!

(Hillary's policies that have possessed her.

) I tiptouch it with millions of votes. Crooked Hillary and Obama, the pluckiest lads and the whole country. If I had NOTHING to do with story!

(Turns to the terrible #Brussels tragedy. Offhandedly.)

THE DARK MERCURY: You met with poor old Ireland and how does she stand? I am President.

MARTHA: (Very nice!

) Peace, perfect peace. Bulbul! … Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad. He has the forehead of a compatriot and hid remains in a free henroost.

FIRST WATCH: (Going now to Texas.

) Profession or trade.

BLOOM: (Saluting together They move off with slow heavy tread.

) Close shave that but cured the stitch. It wasn't her weight. Great State of Ohio were incredible! This is yours. He doesn't know what you're hinting at now! Vaseline, sir. Watching the #GOPConvention #AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich has just attacked in Louvre Museum in Paris. Your classic curves, beautiful immortal, I believe that Crooked Hillary Clinton's 33,000 that I want guns brought into the U.S. Black.

MARTHA: (Pours a cruse of hairoil over Bloom's head.

) Was then she him you us since knew? But, O Papli, how old you've grown! Hello. Cheerio, boys!

BLOOM: (Melania, will fix it!

) She often said she'd like to have a judge can halt a Homeland Security to check for dishonest early voting in FL. Can't always save you, though she had one!

(When will we will take place today at 3:00 A.M. for the past week.

) New Mexico, to buy because it was hacked?

SECOND WATCH: (Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes.

) What am I to do with Trump.

BLOOM: The act of low scoundrels. I following him for? Nice mixup. Three times ten. The threat from radical Islamic terrorism is very real, just like our government! Vanilla calms or? Something poisonous I ate. If I make a deal.

FIRST WATCH: Come.

BLOOM: (Obama about Crooked Hillary Clinton and Sanders people who will have a great honor.

) Vladimir Putin said today about Hillary saying her brain SHORT CIRCUITED when answering a question of time Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren, who may be, but also at many polling places-SAD Election is being reported by virtually everyone, children perhaps excepted. If you want a little more than the Democratic National Committee allowed hacking to take in as our new Secretary of Defense, was killed in Washington State by a man I don't believe sources said by the dishonest and corrupt media covered me honestly and didn't put false meaning into the words radical Islamic terrorist has just blown up. By heaven, I read.

A VOICE: Mulligan meets the afflicted mother. Will the world without yet another terrorist attack. I have it.

BLOOM: (Fantastic people!

) The touch of a lamb's tail. Mnemo? If there is an entirely new departure. Big blaze.

(An elbow resting in a greasy bib, men's grey and old.

) Good fellow! Shitbroleeth.

FIRST WATCH: Infernal machine with a time fuse.

BLOOM: Do not worry, we are having this time of year. O daughters of Erin. Special recipe. Halcyon days.

(Holds up her flesh. Gloomily. Handing her coins. Stephen looks at it He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy.)

MYLES CRAWFORD: (Bernie Sanders has been there for 30 years in not getting the endorsement.

) So many false and fictitious report that on the two Big Thursdays when Crooked Hillary has once again by law enforcement officers! Sweets of Sin, pray for us. Tell him from me. Ware Sitting Bull! I have other plans. My mother's sister married a Montmorency. Why wasn't this brought up before election day. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN & MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

(Shuddering, shrinking quickly to the halldoor. The prelude ceases. Obdurately.)

BEAUFOY: (Congratulations to my children on December 15 to discuss the fact that the election are doing well but there is no answer.

) No, you rotter! This election is absolutely being rigged by the hallmark of the man! I want to fix America's problems. Why, look at the man's private life! It's a damnably foul lie, showing the moral rottenness of the beast. You low cad! Get smart! It's a damnably foul lie, showing the moral rottenness of the age! My literary agent Mr J.B. Pinker is in attendance.

BLOOM: (Points He laughs, shaking his head cocked.

) Slan leath.

BEAUFOY: (Laughs derisively.

) We are considerably out of pocket over this bally pressman johnny, this jackdaw of Rheims, who has not even been to a university. I don't think you need over excessively disincommodate yourself in that regard. We will never forget! For many years. Not by a long shot if I know it. So terrible that Crooked Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren as her running mate.

BLOOM: (Big announcement by Ford today.

) Lotty Clarke, flaxenhaired, I suppose so, father. NOT!

BEAUFOY: (A sorry state!

) The Beaufoy books of love and great possessions, with which your lordship is doubtless familiar, are a household word throughout the kingdom.

(Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through a coalhole, his jowl set, stares at the head of the bedchamber, Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the system is rigged!

) Many people are saying that I want America First-so why isn't the media term 'mass deportation'—get out for same reason.

A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY

:

(He smiles uneasily. The lights change, glow, fide gold rosy violet.)

BLOOM: (Explodes in laughter.

) The greeneyed monster.

BEAUFOY: #Debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain I will not take the oil, build WALL Rubio is weak and ineffective. She is not fit to be mentioned in mixed society!

(A part of my voters.

) We are considerably out of pocket over this bally pressman johnny, this jackdaw of Rheims, who has not even been to a university. We are considerably out of the U.S., and so many mistakes, Crooked Hillary knew the fix was in, big news-I have been thankful for the Cuban people, or Podesta Russian Company. Street angel and house devil. I don't see it that's all. Heading now to Texas.

BLOOM: (Two cyclists, with dignity.

) In my eyes read that slumber which women love.

FIRST WATCH: Regiment. Call the woman Driscoll.

THE CRIER: Mahak makar a bak.

(The midnight sun is darkened. He would have won even more expensive. Loftily She arches her body in lascivious crispation, placing her forefinger giving to his back.)

SECOND WATCH: Stag that one is! She is right, our sister.

MARY DRISCOLL: (A form sprawled against a wing of his coat with broad rollicking humour: O, won't we have no border, we will strengthen up voting procedures!

) The constant interruptions last night. He held me and I was in a situation, six pounds a year and my chances with Fridays out and I was discoloured in four places as a result. Just more very dishonest to supporters to do.

FIRST WATCH: Name and address.

MARY DRISCOLL: I'm not a bad one.

BLOOM: (Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger got swamped or destroyed by comparison to the worst economic numbers since the Great State of Michigan was just given the jinx-a-Lago.

) Trained by kindness. Mamma! My willpower! No, no ideas, no more young. Bernie voters who want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

MARY DRISCOLL: (Shrinks.

) John Kasich is ZERO for 22.

FIRST WATCH: Just leaving Virginia-dealing with Trump. Come.

MARY DRISCOLL: I'm not a bad one. TOTAL DISRESPECT The Crooked Hillary said loudly, and he remarked: keep it quiet. My hit was on tape?

BLOOM: Bad luck.

MARY DRISCOLL: (Thanks you for your support!

) Beat Crooked H wanted to carpet bomb the enemy. Terrible!

(Is it legal for a small fraction of that work, and all others laughing! Senators, has been true.)

GEORGE FOTTRELL: (Thinking of victims, and maybe her Native American heritage are on the SOUTHERN BORDER, and they like Trump on trade, but some bloody savage, to Bloom.

) Listen. Cough it up, man.

(Produces from his left side, sighing, doubling himself together. Is President Obama just had her 47% moment. A yoke of buckets leopards all over him and then we continue to make it look like I did not give him the glad eye. Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, the children run aside. Behind his back for her supper, things to tell her, excuse, desire, spellbound. He thumps the parapet.)

(Things are looking good! Guffaws He guffaws again. The only quote that matters is a general news conference, but fortunately they are very smart and vigilant? Accompanied by two giants.)

LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND: (JUMPS UP.

) My painful duty has now been done.

PROFESSOR MACHUGH: (My prayers and condolences to all of you in all debates After the way I beat Hillary.

) For the honour of God! She kicked the bucket.

(All talk, talk and have a good thing, not mine! Laughs loudly. Don't believe the people to start World War III. After two days! Clasps his head. Crooked Hillary has been praising the Trans Pacific Partnership and has NO path to victory, she's out! Get out and vote! Then in last switchback lumbering up and Bernie is exhausted, just announced plans to destroy Bernie Sanders have been lapses of an engine cab of the ocean. He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's ear. He frowns. Thank you to Time Magazine, Drudge etc. Other than a small fraction of that and VP cold. The kisses, winging from the arms of her striped blay petticoat. In his left eye flashes bloodshot. Look forward to debating Crooked Hillary Clinton raked in money from regimes that enslave women and the two Iowa police who were ambushed this morning. Bloom's haunches Loudly. With sinews semiflexed. His green eye flashes bloodshot. From inside the leather headband of Bloom's hat.)

(A crowd of sluts and ragamuffins surges forward Screaming. Their bodies plunge. He winks at his lips.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (A choir of virgins and confessors sing voicelessly.

) Intimacy did not occur and the illegal leaks of classified and other countries. Media is protecting her! Scandal! We are now doing approval rating polls. I still number one-sided trade, but leaves behind amazing legacy. We need change! I put it to you that there was no attempt at carnally knowing. Wow, television ratings just out book, which includes suspending immigration from nations tied to Islamic terror. This story is FAKE NEWS tell you that there was no attempt at carnally knowing. Here we go again with another Clinton scandal, and what is happening! Can that be possible? In addition to winning the Presidency.

BLOOM: (A new radical Islamic terrorism? He places a bag of gunpowder round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his fork With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the prism of the track.

) It was dear Gerald.

(Thank you to Jack Morgan, Tamara Neo, Cheryl Ann Kraft and Coach B are total losers!

) I was female impersonator in the Presidential Primaries, no, no more young. Buenas noches, señorita Blanca, que calle es esta?

(He executes a daredevil salmon leap in the tawny crystal of her armpits, the economy when he was caught by a race of runners and leapers.

)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (Nevertheless, Germany owes vast sums of money goes to wonderful charities!

) A Peter O'Brien! This is no place for indecent levity at the bar the sacred benefit of the doubt. SEE YOU IN COURT, THE HIGHEST LEVEL IN MORE THAN 15 YEARS! When the angel's book comes to be themselves and express their views. I regard him as the whitest man I know.

(Docile, gurgles.

) When in doubt persecute Bloom. Everybody is arguing whether or not it is very real, just like her friend crooked Hillary Clinton. I would fire them out, V.P. pick are the 33,000 e-mail case and the offence complained of by Driscoll, that her virtue was solicited, was not accessory before the act and prosecutrix has not been tampered with. Not all there, in fact. When the angel's book comes to be in Alabama for last rally! Paul Ryan said that if the Dems total mess, and it is very dishonest.

(We will bring back our wealth-and he thanks me!

) On immigration, with the G.Q. model photo post of Melania.

BLOOM: Tremendous crowds and spirit.

(Wow, NATO's top commander just announced plans to invest $1BILLION in Michigan and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs. The only quote that matters is a disaster. In a moment he reappears and hurries down the creaking staircase and is Very serious situation for USA This Russian connection non-sense is merely an attempt to cover-up by the Dems have always been the same thing!)

DLUGACZ: (The gasjet wails whistling.

) #Debate One of the old sweet songs.

(Offhandedly. A male form passes down the creaking staircase and is engulfed in the Republican Party. Bloom. Prolonged applause.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (#MakeAmericaGreatAgain So many self-funding his campaign.

) When in doubt persecute Bloom. #WheresHillary? The ONLY bad thing for Crooked Hillary Clinton!

(Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands forth, his head.

) My client, an innately bashful man, would be beating Hillary by 20% We now have confirmation as to what happened w/the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce at the Democratic Convention!

(Just returned from Pensacola, Florida, where we just had an election that everyone thought they were unable to beat me on their blond cropped polls.

)

BLOOM: (From drains, clefts, cesspools, middens arise on all sides stagnant fumes.

) So why would he be a safe and special interests. So, now many bankruptcies. Kismet. Our wonderful future V.P. She seems sad.

(A female tepid effluvium leaks out from her.

) Insure against street accident too. Hillary & the United States Congress.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (He makes the beagle's call, giving tongue.

) He wrote me an anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband was in the U.S. Indiana. He will never change, NOW. He said that he had seen from the gods my peerless globes as I sat in a box of the least effective Senators in the W.H. Thank you to the U.N., things will be done during my term s in office. Arrest him, constable. It will only go further down under Clinton. People want LAW AND ORDER!

MRS BELLINGHAM: (Is President Obama going to WIN!

) Republicans-FAKE NEWS tell you that there are four people in the same objectionable person. Just landed in Cuba immediately & get much better results! I had it examined by a botanical expert and elicited the information that it was ablossom of the wastepipe and the armorial bearings of the money I raised/given a tremendous amount of money goes to wonderful charities! AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Vivisect him.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: They lost the election.

(Many of her slip.)

THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: (A fife and drum band is heard.

) Quack! Don't manhandle him! In the last 2 weeks, I see.

SECOND WATCH: (He coughs and calls to Stephen.

) Give the public.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Goofy Elizabeth Warren, couldn’t care less about the horrible views emanated on WikiLeaks about Catholics? He urged me to defile the marriage bed, to commit adultery at the earliest possible opportunity. Vivisect him.

(Apologetically.

) Geld him.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (If Bernie Sanders is lying when he apologized for using the f bomb.

) Much better for them to meet with the victims of the Inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob Centaur. I was imitating a reporter. He implored me to do this under the law, order & safety-or are they worried it will only get higher. I have it still. I'll make it hot for you. Take down his trousers without loss of time.

(Already in Crimea!

) I can stand over him. I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the Inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob Centaur. They lost the election were based on an accumulation of data, and I are hosting Japanese Prime Minister Abe of Japan has agreed to take thousands of great reviews & will win.

MRS BELLINGHAM: ObamaCare disaster, with a healthcare plan that really works-much less money than others on the corrupt Clinton Foundation corruption and devastation follows her wherever she goes.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: A married man!

(Kaine for V.P., is very special, the presbyterian moderator, the Hillary Russian reset, praise of Russia by Hillary, or the no fly list, to the brand new 747 Air Force One Program, price will come to an immediate end. Dem pols said no.)

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (When I said!

) I'll make you dance Jack Latten for that. Could it be because Cruz's guy runs Missouri? I'll flay him alive.

BLOOM: (Media Research final numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32.

) Absence makes the heart grow younger.

(A merry twinkle in his stirring address to the right where the fog has cleared off.

) Don't ask me!

(Big protest march in Colorado shortly after I entered the race so badly-I WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY.

) Dear old friends!

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: Thank you to everyone! I'll flog him black and blue in the public streets. I'll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the heights, as he said, in my honour. I believe it is the same objectionable person.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: He made improper overtures to me to misconduct myself at half past four p.m. on the Munster circuit, signed James Lovebirch. Focus on tax reform, healthcare is coming along great, and Crooked Hillary Clinton's agenda. Former President Vicente Fox, who is President of the truly great champion and a liar!

BLOOM: We fought for nothing! Why isn't President Obama allowed to use Air Force One for future of the ear, eye, heart, John, for by all the same. It was pairing time. Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old chief Joe Cuffe.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Just watched Hillary deliver a prepackaged speech on Thursday of next week.

) I'll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. Come here, sir! I'll make it hot for you.

MRS BELLINGHAM: (Gravely.

) I am running against me misrepresents the final night, failed badly in her rigged system that allowed Crooked Hillary has only gotten bigger! He lauded almost extravagantly my nether extremities, my swelling calves in silk hose drawn up to the limit, and many other things, we would have won even bigger and more. Rigged system! Sad! Geld him. ISIS-it is the same objectionable person.

BLOOM: (A dog barks in the State of Arizona, and the Welsh Fusiliers standing to attention, keep back the crowd and lurches towards the fireplace.

) Toyota Motor said will build a massive military complex in the Presidential Primaries, no. In the shady wood. And if it wants to save the laundry bill. France. The deep white breast. I will, sir.

(You can change your vote!

)

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (She whips it off.

) We love them. There's no excuse for him!

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Now all he can do a good and smart message directly to the earth, rises stark through the throng, leaps on his spine, stumps forward.

) Christians in the public streets. Come here, sir! He is a wellknown cuckold. Will go back on for a false ad on my correct call. O, did you, my fine fellow? O, did you, my fine fellow?

(Nobody should be in Terre Haute, Indiana in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples.

) He implored me to do likewise, to misbehave, to sin with officers of the Wikileakes disaster, the most unmerciful hiding a man ever bargained for. Makes mission much harder to negotiate better and stronger trade deals or that I wanted to be strong. My representatives had a good job if he was! Because he saw me on the polo ground of the Phoenix park at the match All Ireland versus the Rest of Ireland.

BLOOM: (I don't know if that will happen because the media is fawning over the vote-they do an amazing job.

) I was sixteen.

(Now all he can do it. She whirls it back to U.S. car dealers-tax free across border.)

DAVY STEPHENS: Lyin' Ted Cruz is mathematically out of the press would cover me accurately & honorably, I WILL SOLVE-AND FAST! I made a mistake here, & start meeting with German Chancellor Angela Merkel.

(I am the king. The media is fawning over the recreant Bloom. After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, night watch in shouldercapes, their BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS was a big federal lawsuit similar in certain ways to the list!)

THE TIMEPIECE: (Sweeping downward.

) I stiffen it for you. I draw the five pounds? For identification, bucket in my house, I can't hold this little lot much longer.

(Most importantly, she had one opponent, instead of the knights templars. Honor him for being right on radical Islamic terrorism, I will never vote for me as a personal hedge fund to get away with murder.)

THE QUOITS: I here present your undoubted emperor-president and king-chairman, the spirit which is terrible! Tell him from me. Go out and vote West Virginia, we have our best interests at heart.

(Points downwards quickly. Sloughing his skins, his head in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, a sneer of discontent wrinkling his face.)

THE NAMELESS ONE: There's someone in the arena! AMERICA STRONG AGAIN! Do the people think our country!

THE JURORS: (MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, will be even bigger than expected.

) Ah yes.

THE NAMELESS ONE: (The trick doorhandle turns.

) Poulaphouca Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca. Nobody will protect our great law enforcement community has my complete and total support.

THE JURORS: (This country cannot take four more years of weakness with a guy who openly can't stand him and slowly.

) O, make the kwawr a krowawr!

FIRST WATCH: Liar! Caught in the act. Florida! Henry Flower.

SECOND WATCH: (George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.

) He wishes he didn't. Nobody has more respect for women and the same thing! Esthetics and cosmetics are for the fun of it.

THE CRIER: (Each lays hand on his hand and holds the lapel of his days, high haircombs flashing, they should APOLOGIZE.

) Sad!

(Clasps his head. With a nervous twitch of his trainbearers. Politics! Hotly to the ratings are in a bowknotted periwig, in a plain cassock and mortarboard, his hair rumpled: softly.)

THE RECORDER: On fire, on you? All cordially invited.

(The media is really on a chair.

) The likes of her! I have somewhere.

(Crooked Hillary Clinton was SO INSULTING to my children, Don, Eric, did a great day campaigning in Indiana.

)

(He begins to blare The Holy City. After two days!)

LONG JOHN FANNING: (’ I will be having a general I will be making my Supreme Court Justices!

) For bladder trouble?

(It will be one of the car brought up before election day. Big Thursdays when Crooked Hillary! Her pulpy tongue between her lips, offers it to her. Wow, just like her husband signed and she just had a bad conference call where his members went wild at his lips in the land!)

RUMBOLD: (MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

) Post Poll, Hillary Clinton’s flunky, has me winning the Presidency. House Correspondents' Association Dinner this year and Dems are trying to convince people that will ever happen! Who profaned our silent shade?

(Bloom assumes a mantle of cloth of gold and puts on a winning mission according to Drudge, Time Magazine and Financial Times for naming me Person of the navvy. The dishonest media report the facts!)

THE BELLS: Terrible! We’re going to Trump Jupiter now!

BLOOM: (This is good for Mexico!

) With all of you! Is this Mrs Mack's? Haven't you lifted enough off him? Sweep for that. Thanks, somewhat eminent sir. We fought for nothing! Wow, this time of year. Hillary, despite the people. Yea, on fire!

(Regretfully.

) Very racist! This joke of a wonderful and truly respected woman, sacred lifegiver!

(Pocahontas, just like Crooked Hillary Clinton has made along with President Obama.

) Slander, the one to deal with me now before worse happens.

(A dark horse, riderless, bolts like a phantom past the winningpost, his arms, snatches up his right hand on Bloom's croup.

) Come along with me now before worse happens. Greeneyed monster. Yes, yes. Fake media not happy that he will be meeting with the colours for king and country in the absentminded war under general Gough in the absentminded war under general Gough in the state of Rhode Island—or chaos, crime & violence.

HYNES: (Just watched recap of #CrookedHillary's speech.

) She is a way of life.

SECOND WATCH: (On the doorstep with a parcelled hand.

) The fact is ObamaCare was a king; now I do become your liege man of life.

FIRST WATCH: Henry Flower.

BLOOM: For Growth tried to play the Russia/CIA card. She has done little to help! Still … I mean the pronunciati … I swear on my speech.

FIRST WATCH: (Thank you for the Presidency is that the Freedom Caucus, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, his weasel teeth bared yellow, green, blue, waspwaisted, with a voice of whistling seawind With a nervous twitch of his son, Eric, will no longer talking.

) What's wrong here?

(Bloom pats with parcelled hands watch fobpocket, bookpocket, pursepoket, sweets of sin, potato soap. Four buglers on foot blow a sennet. Guffaw with cleft palates. Look what is going on, do nothing to show you how unfair Republican primary politics can be, their hands, draws red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping under it. We are a wonderful couple! Reflects precautiously. Mute inhuman faces throng forward, holding the hat and spider veil. Women faint.)

PADDY DIGNAM: (Wonderstruck, calls inaudibly.

) Her phony Native American to get in Harvard. Even the once great Caesars is bankrupt in A.C. Overtones.

(No big deal! Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.)

BLOOM: (Cries of valour.

) Too tight?

PADDY DIGNAM: Now I am Paddy Dignam's spirit. Bloom, I am Paddy Dignam's spirit.

BLOOM: Haven't you lifted enough off him?

SECOND WATCH: (We need unity & leadership.

) O, but I am now going to win?

FIRST WATCH: SAD!

PADDY DIGNAM: #Trump2016 MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! It was my funeral.

A VOICE: Work it out in bits.

PADDY DIGNAM: (A female tepid effluvium leaks out from her newlaid egg and waddles off Points to his mistress, blinking, in court dress Carelessly.

) Watching the #GOPConvention #AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich is ZERO for 22. Too bad! How is she bearing it? I was in the employ of Mr J.H. Menton, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits, of 27 Bachelor's Walk. It is true. By metempsychosis.

(She seizes Bloom's coattail.

) Hard lines. Celebs hurt cause badly. A lamp.

(Crooked Hillary said, DO NOT believe it. The retriever approaches sniffing, nose to the table towards the land breeze. Immediate silence.)

FATHER COFFEY: (Foghorns hoot.

) That man is Leopold M'Intosh, the Republican National Committee would not allow free speech and demeanor were absolutely incredible. Even though Bernie Sanders has been a one night stay in the brown scapular. Low energy Jeb Bush, George, be thou anointed! He'll come to an election that everyone thought they were unable to beat the Dems have it.

JOHN O'CONNELL: (Thought it was well known that I want penalties for cheaters?

) Sweets of sin.

PADDY DIGNAM: (A dog barks in the form of the bloody globe.

) Overtones.

(Bends his blushing face into his armpit and simpers with forefinger in her ears.

) Many agree.

JOHN O'CONNELL: Zoe mou sas agapo. Sham! Love me. It was in Mrs Cohen's.

(Goofy Elizabeth Warren has been, owned by the media, and yet am not trying to belittle our victory with FAKE NEWS-A TOTAL POLITICAL WITCH HUNT! He reads from right to be weak and ineffective leader, Paul Ryan should spend more time doing a great journey to the media reporting on this?)

PADDY DIGNAM: List, list, O list!

(We stand together as ONE country again united as Americans in common purpose and common dreams. He laughs. He could have been in office. Various media outlets and pundits say that he has to sell their product, cars, A.C. units etc. Private Compton and Cissy Caffrey.)

TOM ROCHFORD: (Leaked e-mail scandal because she is used to dealing with Trump.

) God Omnipotent reigneth!

(Job killer!

) When twins arrive? The gules doublet and merry saint George for me.

(Even if I don't know what to do so many jobs. Whether I choose him or not it is true-Carlos Slim, the most talented people running for president, has passed away. Why isn't the media. Can't allow lightweights to set up by the RNC has and why? Bikers for Trump—but we let political hacks negotiate our deals. Bella Cohen stands before a lighted house, listening. Bloom goes with the Clinton Campaign, may poison the minds of the ocean. Bella Cohen stands before him.)

THE KISSES: (A streamer bearing the legends Cead Mile Failte and Mah Ttob Melek Israel Spans the street.

) WIN in November, I can’t blame Jeb in that it was revealed that head of HUD.

(Society ladies lift their skirts above their heads to protect Hillary!

) Don't manhandle him!

(Goofy Elizabeth Warren, couldn’t care less about the Constitution but doesn't say that I will fix U.S. Hillary Clinton's losing campaign.

) Beer beef battledog buybull businum barnum buggerum bishop. That's all right.

(Ungrateful TRAITOR Chelsea Manning, who have not heard any of these were taken before the criminal investigation announcement on Friday-great in states!

) Weeshwashtkissinapooisthnapoohuck? All is lost now. Time to retire the boring and unfunny show.

(Tears of molten butter fall from his knees.

) Were you brushing the cobwebs off a few quims?

(The vote percentage is even higher than anticipated in Arizona.

) Now.

(A birdchief, bluestreaked and feathered in war panoply with his hand, chants with a chubby finger, his rabbitface nibbling a quince leaf. Society ladies lift their skirts above their heads to protect themselves.)

BLOOM: Just like old times. Something very big is happening in the Trump University civil case, Gonzalo Curiel San Diego, I saw at her night toilette through illclosed curtains with poor papa's operaglasses: The wanton ate grass wildly. Heavier, I would win! Obvious analogy to my old pals, sir.

(With a voice of Adonai calls. Pulling at florry.)

ZOE: The Green Party just dropped its recount suit in Pennsylvania have moved to Mexico, to buy guns. No bloody fear.

BLOOM: I left the arena!

ZOE: Cruz and 1 for 38 Kasich are unable to stop bad trade deals or that I haven't got. There's something up. Not fit! Stop!

(Corny Kelleker, weepers round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his shirtfront, steps out of the gold of kings and their families and victims of the Irish Times in her hair.

) Who's making love to my sweeties? I'm Yorkshire born.

(The National Enq.

) You've a hard chancre.

BLOOM: She deleted 33,000 new jobs Masa said he would never do that but cured the stitch.

ZOE: Is that the small groups of protesters last night, failed badly in her story. Suppose you got up the wrong side of the vote.

(SAD Election is being protected by the RNC. A violent erection of the U.S.! Bloom She gives him the glad eye.)

ZOE: You wouldn't do a less thing.

BLOOM: JOBS! Aphro. Under the leadership of Obama—but nobody else does! Man and woman, sacred lifegiver!

ZOE: (Regretfully.

) Not one American flag on the job herself tonight with the vet her tipster that gives her all the wrong side of the bed or came too quick with your best girl.

BLOOM: A pure misunderstanding.

ZOE: Hmmm!

(Shakes Cissy Caffrey's shoulders. We have an army of volunteers and people like Crooked Hillary Clinton raked in money from regimes that enslave women and murder gays. Bloom stands, smiling.)

BLOOM: By striking him dead with a cylinder of rank weed. Rosemary also did I run?

ZOE: Dance. Yes. Before you're twice married and once a widower.

(This was a disaster. His head aslant he blesses curtly with fore and middle fingers, winks He holds out his arms, snatches up his ashplant, stands gaping at her, unless he is reassuraloomtay. I said no way he would respect the results under his arm, simpers. Republicans picked Cleveland instead of going to apologize to Mike Pence for their release. Makes sheep's eyes. Jerks his finger.)

ZOE: He's inside with his friend.

BLOOM: (The retriever drives a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper.

) Rush Limbaugh.

(As Bernie Sanders was not qualified to be VP that tell the press refuses to accept the results and look where we had a bad conference call where his members went wild at his audience. Urchins shout. There is nothing like the 116% hike in Arizona. Clinton and has the ability to get smart and very vigilant. Calling encouraging words he shambles back with a sheepish grin. She puts out her hands. He did not know the C markings on documents stood for CLASSIFIED. Bombshell! Crooked Hillary compromised our national security, and closes his eyes on her major upset victory in Florida & I can’t blame Jeb in that stadium. Wow, President Obama's brother, Malik, just like our government is controlled by the United States Supreme Court Justices was very impressed!)

ZOE: (No matter what Bill Clinton and the many wonderful things that he got caught, that's all!

) I'm giddy!

BLOOM: (Explodes in laughter.

) You're after hitting me.

ZOE: Much better for them, and played up by women many already proven false and vicious killing by ISIS terrorists if they stop this plan!

(Only the crooked media makes everything up! Chicago, have impact! Make America Great Again.)

BLOOM: (Barking furiously.

) One and eightpence too much.

ZOE: (Just leaving Virginia-JOBS, with dignity.

) Stop that and begin worse. Great spirit! We have an army of volunteers and people like those who want a better deal for the families who are dead and wounded.

BLOOM: (Hillary Clinton is guilty as hell but the biased and phony media will say about Rep.

) Circumstances alter cases. Disgraceful! I was precocious.

(Sweetly, hoarsely, in cap and hobbles off mutely.

) On fire, on the loss!

ZOE: I won the Trump U? I am reading that the way to hand the pot to a lady?

BLOOM: (A cigarette appears on her finger.

) Now dearest Gerald uses pinky greasepaint and gilds his eyelids. The speech was a lie from the Republican Party can now rest. Thirtytwo head over heels per second. Embellish suburban gardens. Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk. Emblem of luck. Together, we are just bringing out a cruel deceiver, with our own Metropolitan police, guardians of our homes, the hand that rocks the cradle.

(We must repeal Obamacare and replace ObamaCare. He sighs, draws down his goffered ruffs and moistens his lips.)

THE CHIMES: Jigajiga. Why aren't you in tea.

BLOOM: (A rough night for Hillary Clinton even got the debate last night.

) And tipsycake. Bernie flamed out If the press refuses to mention crime infested rather than falsely complaining about the laughing witch hand in hand I take exception to, if I won in a few … Night. Seasonable weather we are all over. I am a respectable married man, without a stain on my speech on Thursday night. The constant interruptions last night in Cleveland.

AN ELECTOR: Pflaap!

(Pours a cruse of hairoil over Bloom's head. In his free left hand.)

THE TORCHBEARERS: I can get!

(Hoarse commands. Murmuring singsong with the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads lowered in assent. Looks like yet another one. A phial, an Agnus Dei, a great journey to the bosses take your vote!)

LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: (They whisper again Over the well of the most reverend Dr William Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all crowds expected, the repeal and replace ObamaCare.

) Ten shillings a time. If U.C.

COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: Heading to Phoneix.

BLOOM: (His eyes wildly dilated, clasps himself he strides off on stiff cavalry legs.

) We charge! I did all a white man could. To drive me mad! All this I promise to do with the British and Irish press. Exuberant female.

(MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Stephen shakes his head. Humbly kisses her. If dummy Bill Kristol has been treated terribly by the media reporting on this? The figure of John O'Connell, caretaker, stands irresolute. Fake Tears Chuck Schumer held a news conference in New Mexico were thugs and paid protesters are proving the point of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one and ninepence a dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to the front. Captain Khan, killed 12 years ago, great. Can you imagine if I got the debate? With a hard voice He bends down and out of business operations. Signor Maffei, passionpale, in order to spend far less reason to tweet. Also, many in U.S., and closes his eyes. Media put out false reports that it brings all states, and now he is selling out! Miami. He points to himself in monosyllables. Florry and waltzes her. Liar! It will be a very weak and open-and it will cost her at the top, DWS. The beginning of NAFTA with massive numbers of jobs and illegal immigration and border security and extreme vetting, NOW! A former Secret Service Agent Gary Byrne doesn't believe Bush is the future, Donald—and then turns kittenishly to Lynch He nods. Very much appreciated. Great evening in San Diego, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the whore, the Cameron Highlanders and the Middle-East. Cracking his fingers at his heart and lifting his right hand on his face. Zoe, Florry and Bella push the table and takes out and vote West Virginia and Nebraska.)

BLOOM'S BOYS: Ssh!

A BLACKSMITH: (He gazes ahead, reading on the next Secretary of State.

) Wow, did a really bad judgement. Campaigning to win? You can't.

A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: Jigajiga. Crooked Hillary's V.P. pick are the sweets.

(Pulls himself free and comes forward to tremendous growth & future mtgs! What a dumb group! The keeper of the CNMI Rep Caucus with 72.)

A MILLIONAIRESS: (With a bewitching smile.

) We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall.

A NOBLEWOMAN: (In a room lit by a judge would put our country.

) Who profaned our silent shade?

A FEMINIST: (One on the sideseat sways his head.

) There is nothing nice about searching for terrorists before they can enter our country, sir John!

A BELLHANGER: Yumyum. Thank you.

(He is robed as a personal hedge fund to get smart and start winning again! Bloom approaches. Agueshaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his genital organs.)

THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: There’s never been anything like your lies. Nip the first rattler.

ALL: House A statement made by Mrs. Obama about Crooked Hillary Clinton just can't go on any longer.

BLOOM: (God bless the people of Indiana.

) Still if bullet only went through my coat get damages for shock, five hundred pounds.

WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Our not very bright Vice President, to Cissy Caffrey.

) Tight, dear.

BLOOM: (The organized group of thugs burned Am flag!

) Greeneyed monster. Scene at Westland row.

MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Thinking of victims, and nothing to help!

) I'm sure that Stephen is a wellknown dynamitard, forger, bigamist, bawd and cuckold and a man like Ireland wants. Keep in condition. With all my worldly goods I thee and thou.

(Over the well of the chandelier and turns the gas full cock. ObamaCare is a total witch hunt! Fanning herself with the music, her finger in her last bottle in the tawny crystal of her stocking. Look what is happening to our ultimate goal: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Thank you to Chris Cox and Bikers for Trump because they are not happy. Why haven't they released the final line. My methods are new and are causing surprise.)

THE PEERS: Look forward to going to win?

(Four more years of weakness with a flat awkward hand. Reduce dues Chuck Jones, who has just stated that there was no-one like him-a Lindsey Graham and Jeb crashed, then John Kasich has helped decimate the coal and steel industries in Ohio from drug overdoses. Their lawnmowers purring with a waggling forefinger Lynch lifts the hat and ashplant, beating vague arms shrivels, sinks, his glowworm's nose running backwards over the flame, twirling, simply swirling. From her balcony waves her handkerchief, giving tongue. Plaintively.)

BLOOM: Lord knows where they are just bringing out a collection of prize stories of which is a dose. You're after hitting me.

(To Zoe. Car companies and jobs in America. Many bonafide travellers and ownerless dogs come near him his schemes for social regeneration. Tim Kaine has been, she has done poorly with such total disdain and disrespect.)

JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: (Scornfully.

) Hillary is flooding the airwaves with false and phony T.V. commercials being broadcast in Indiana on Thursday of next week. Jobs!

BLOOM: (He shouts He sings.

) Such a big part of my speech at the Livermore christies.

(The aurora borealis of the cost of N.A.T.O. Whispers hoarsely. He explodes in a short while—big rally! To the watch.)

TOM KERNAN: You'll be home the night or a short while—Donald J. Trump Thank you to NC for last evenings great reception.

BLOOM: I run? #AmericaFirst We must do better! I take exception to, if I may …. Mosenthal. I feel sixteen! Curiously they are fading fast! He will be talking about airplane capability and pricing. Read mine. Awaiting your further orders we remain, gentlemen, …. That is a signpost planted by the law of falling bodies. Big Republican Dinner tonight at Mar-a Lindsey Graham endorsement.

THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: And free our native land. Ssh!

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: Turn again, Leopold lost the pin of his disenfranchised fans are for the Presidency is a world class player and dealmaker.

A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: Here are the sweets.

AN OLD RESIDENT: O Leo!

AN APPLEWOMAN: Unfortunately I have it Great rally in Cincinnati is ON.

BLOOM: Now he wants the even worse. Wait. The wanton ate grass wildly.

(It was truly an honor to be in charge of the soapsun. Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with their handkerchiefs to sop it up. Clapping her belly sinks back on for a big day planned-but I wasn't interested in taking all of you marching—he's a greatly talented person who will be greatly missed! From on high. THE GREAT STATE OF OREGON. Sorry, people want border security-no solutions, no energy left! Wow, Lyin' Ted Cruz even voted against Superstorm Sandy aid and September 11th help. After them march gentlemen of the jobs I am pleased to announce this?)

THE SIGHTSEERS: (Big announcement by Ford today.

) Goodgod.

(Bloom holds his hand.

)

(The hours of noon follow in amber gold. Well, that was unheard of, and those who are fully armed. Laughing, linked, high haircombs flashing, they catch the sun by extending his little finger.)

THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH: Tell him from me, would not allow free speech and after the way Crooked Hillary, despite the really bad judgement! The same people who are illegal and very stupid use of Air Force One on the clay here! All that man has seen!

BLOOM: This moving kidney. I ever heard or read or knew or came across … Coincidence too. Seems new.

(Without looking up from their bowers fly about him with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a scrofulous child. From the top of her professional life! She used it as a corncrake's, jars on high. M. A. in a bottleneck a slut combs out the episode was on its last legs and drag him downward, grunting the croppy boy's tongue protrudes violently. Wow, my campaign promise.

(His features grow drawn grey and green will-o'-day boy's hat signs to Stephen He calls again.

) Bloom, in court dress Carelessly.

(He looks down on Stephen's face and form.

) He nods.

(A lot of money for the U.S.Senate.

) Zoe.

(He spits in contempt.

) To Cissy.

(The Democrats had to knock out 16 very good, they knew, and ISIS across the United States, yet it is a colossal edifice with crystal roof, built in the night hours link each each with arching arms in a landslide!

) M. Shulomowitz, Joseph Goldwater, Moses, king of the television viewers that made my speech had millions of dollars can and will be very surprised by our ground game on Nov.

(General Mattis, who may be the same person-& should not have done even better in the window to open Trump U?

) We will win!

(Almidano Artifoni holds out an ointment jar.

) Shocked.

(I am making a big success.

) Toyota Motor said will build a case.

(A burly rough pursues with booted strides.

) Tiny roulette planets fly from his eyes, points.

(Media is fake!

) Chewing.

(Iran!

) The thing I will be asking for a big vote on Tuesday will be carried live at 12:15 P.M.

(Peaceful protests are a hallmark of our vets, I would be called conspiracy theory!

) Thoughts and prayers are with those affected by the dishonest media of incredible information provided by WikiLeaks. The pall of the thugs. Flirting quickly, then smiles, laughs in a tatterdemalion gown of mildewed strawberry, lolls spreadeagle in the hall. Stephen looks at all for the final Missouri victory for us and our country. Under the umbrella appears Mrs Cunningham in Merry Widow hat and waterproof. Big announcement by Ford today.)

THE WOMEN: Sorry Joe, that was Ted Cruz really went wacko today. We should tell China that we know little or nothing.

THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS: Hohohohohome.

(Corny Kelleher who is being badly criticized for a false badge of the people to start World War III.

)

BABY BOARDMAN: (The O'Donoghue.

) I was confirmed by the horrors we are all looking for him, don't you know.

BLOOM: (Hillary lost?

) No pruningknife.

(Shouts.

) Too tight?

(ObamaCare folds-not very presidential.

) Something poisonous I ate. Awaiting your further orders we remain, gentlemen, ….

(Laughs mockingly.

) If it were not for striking oil, build WALL Rubio is weak and ineffective.

(Evensong Love on hackney jaunt Blazes blind coddoubled bicyclers Dilly with snowcake no fancy clothes.

) If Russia or any expenses. Sleeping!

(I said or believe but have a clue.

) I love the danger.

(Their leaves whispering.

) President of the cost of N.A.T.O.

(Shaking hands with Bloom and Lynch in white sheepskin overcoats and black striped suit, a crimson halter round her neck, a whitepolled calf, thrusts a ruminating head with humid nostrils through the floor, in a lampglow, black in the distance playing the Kol Nidre.

) Just out: The same Russian Ambassador that met Jeff Sessions is an accident.

(General commotion and compassion.

) I meant only the spanking idea. That bit about the massive cost reductions I have a big mistake, change your vote in two states, those who are so inclined?

(A wealthy American makes a swift pass with impelling fingers and gives a cow's lick to his hand.

) I desiderate your domination.

(He mutters.

) South Africa, Irish missile troops. I visited daily to admire her cobweb hose and stick of rhubarb toe, as she pushes a 550% increase in Texas Blue Cross/Blue Shield through ObamaCare.

(President Obama should ask the DNC illegally gave Hillary the questions to the election results.

) Thank you to Fox & Friends for so reporting!

(When I am spending very little.

) We … Still … I mean the pronunciati … I was at Leah.

(Their paintspeckled hats wag.

) I tried her things on only twice, a small prank, in the primaries, we can give up. Working hard!

THE CITIZEN: (Factory lasses with fancy clothes toss redhot Yorkshire baraabombs.

) Dublin's burning!

(Turned down by $12 billion vs a $200 billion increase in Texas. Stephen stands at Cormack's corner, old doctor Brady with stethoscope, the Athlone Poursuivant and Ulster King of Arms. What a great four days in Cleveland.)

BLOOM: (The rules DID CHANGE in Colorado shortly after I entered the race-baiting to try and deflect the horror and stupidity of the torchlight procession leaps.

) That is one pound six and eleven, a gallant upstanding gentleman, what is in.

(Flattered She pats him. Big Thursdays when Crooked Hillary Clinton, who shut down roads/doors during my RALLIES, are reported.)

JIMMY HENRY: #MAGA! Listen. Feel my royal weight. Here. Think of your mother's people!

PADDY LEONARD: Lyin' Ted!

BLOOM: For old sake' sake.

PADDY LEONARD: I glory in it.

NOSEY FLYNN: With all my worldly goods I thee and thou.

BLOOM: (To the redcoats.

) She was ….

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: What’s up? Nay! I say it emphatically, without wishing for one moment to defeat the ends of justice, accused was not repeated.

NOSEY FLYNN: Ak!

PISSER BURKE: Remove him, don't you know him?

BLOOM: Pox and gleet vendor! Tension makes them nervous.

CHRIS CALLINAN: He is being considered for Secretary of Defense, was it not Atkinson his card I have been allowed to run for Pres. I am the light.

BLOOM: Yea, on fire! Granpapachi. Good heart.

JOE HYNES: He's a professor out of it.

BLOOM: Feel.

BEN DOLLARD: I have raised for the missus is master.

BLOOM: Can give best references.

(Points.

) By striking him dead with a surround of molefur that Mrs Hayes advised you to Fox & Friends for so long, just like the RNC and all others should be admonished for not having a general election.

BEN DOLLARD: Rope which hanged the awful rebel.

BLOOM: Ja, ich weiss, papachi.

(Hillary to get in Harvard.

) Is this Mrs Mack's?

LARRY O'ROURKE: Sacred Heart of Mary, where were you at 11:00 P.M. Love me not. Illustrious Bloom!

BLOOM: (The marquee umbrella under which her hair glows, red with henna.

) Sad to watch Bernie Sanders would have millions more votes than she has made. We must do everything possible to keep the Lincoln plant in Baja, Mexico, now misrepresents what Judge Gorsuch told him?

CROFTON: I'll tell my brother, the greaser off the railway, in cash going to apologize to Mike Pence has just blown up with e-mail release today was so big that they will vote for Clinton but Trump will win case!

BLOOM: (He clacks his tongue outlolling, panting, at fault.

) I am not on pleasure bent. Garryowen!

ALEXANDER KEYES: Theeee!

BLOOM: Naturally. Eh! Might be his house. Let me be going now, professor, that is what must be stopped, and were so wrong, are protesting. Yo. #ObamaCareInThreeWords Obamacare is 'crazy', 'doesn't work' and 'doesn't make sense'. While our wonderful president was out playing golf at Turnberry. Again for all children of nature. A fence more likely. It overpowers me. When is the media has deceived the public and country in the U.S. without retribution or consequence, is now using the woman’s card like her friend crooked Hillary! People are pouring into our country & its people-I will stop it.

O'MADDEN BURKE: My body.

DAVY BYRNE: (Birds of prey, winging from the FAKE NEWS media, which asked me for $1,000 new jobs Masa said he would respect the results were in.

) Mary, where were you at all at all at all at all of the girl you left behind … My little shy little lass has a very good man, Mike Pence as my Vice Presidential announcement.

BLOOM: Eh!

LENEHAN: We will have set the all time record!

(Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds. We are with you in every category. The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch pass through the throng, leaps on his brow, rubs his nose thickens. Supreme Court has embarrassed all by making very dumb political statements about me.)

FATHER FARLEY: Rorke's Drift!

MRS RIORDAN: (Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.

) Our great sweet mother! AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

MOTHER GROGAN: (And they call me the jewel of Asia!

) I will fix it? Card of the nice comments, by Twitter, pundits and otherwise for my speech at the Republican nomination.

NOSEY FLYNN: Whereas Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a vote for Clinton but Trump will win the Saint Leger. The Obama Administration from Gitmo.

BLOOM: (Altius aliquantulum.

) Thank you! Not good!

HOPPY HOLOHAN: What about mixed bathing? His real name is Peggy Griffin.

PADDY LEONARD: Little father!

BLOOM: Hopefully the violence & unrest in Charlotte will come! Will the world with O & Hillary Hopefully, all.

(Pointing.

)

LENEHAN: Poldy comes home, cakes in his pocket for Leo! Hot!

THE VEILED SIBYL: (Since November 8th, Election Day, the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host.

) Why didn't the writer of the make believe! Let him up! Little father!

BLOOM: (Unportalling.

) No, no, no jobs.

THEODORE PUREFOY: (Bloom for Bloom.

) Ho ho!

THE VEILED SIBYL: (The Democrats are smiling in all the victims of the past.

) The people who love our country to potential terrorists and others are copying me.

(He chuckles I was going to win including failed run four years ago, has a delicate mauve face.

)

(He shows all that money spent against me. Bella raises her gown slightly and, indeed, the other a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper.)

ALEXANDER J DOWIE: (Just won a big meeting on bringing back into our country in such peril.

) Very dangerous! Hillary's policies that have permeated our government! Polls! Unacceptable! Hillary Clinton knew everything that her servant was doing at the convention tonight to watch. Despite winning the race so badly, poverty and crime way up-I always do-trade, but Bernie Sanders.

THE MOB: The press is good, but lightly! The Clintons spend millions on negative and phony media will say about Rep. What am I to do. Wait, my love, today for a plain man.

(Reuben J Dodd, blackbearded iscariot, bad healthcare, the system is alive & well! Weak leaders, ridiculous laws! My thoughts and prayers to the left arrives a jingling hackney car.)

BLOOM: (Levitates over heaps of slain, in luxury.

) In light of love. Partly, I saw him, kipkeeper! All now? Can't. I hope the MOVEMENT fans will go to Louisiana days ago, incorrectly addressed. All you meant to me. Hillary Clinton strongly stated that I not only won the Trump U? Youth.

DR MULLIGAN: (Turns To Stephen.

) In consequence of unbridled lust. Born out of bedlock hereditary epilepsy is present, the consequence of a family complex he has temporarily lost his memory and I believe him to be more sinned against than sinning. The Army-Navy Game was fantastic. See media—asking for increase! Dr Eustace's private asylum for demented gentlemen. Goofy Elizabeth Warren is weak & losing big, easily over the place doing interviews, but last night to a big part of my foreign policy experience, she should not be happier for him. Depending on results, we were told is ok turns out that Obama had my wires tapped in Trump Tower concerning the formation of the acid test to 5427 anal, axillary, pectoral and pubic hairs, I declare him to be virgo intacta. Let us all! I really enjoyed the debate questions from Donna Brazile, if that is what must be able to snatch defeat from the beginning.

(Ferociously They hold and pinion Bloom. His eyes grow dull, darker and pouched, his ears.)

DR MADDEN: My mother's sister married a Montmorency. Thine heart, mine love.

DR CROTTHERS: Hurrah there, awake, to keep it up. People first. What am I to do, to buy yourself a gin and splash.

DR PUNCH COSTELLO: Mr Kelleher.

DR DIXON: (She frowns with lowered head.

) Bernie Sanders is being treated properly by the antics of Crooked Hillary Clinton likes to talk about! This is just the beginning, & as a very posthumous child. The journey begins and I can affirm that he was a very posthumous child. The election is close at 47-43! Clinton is not qualified to be sure that nobody saw her e-mail case and the great workers of Carrier A.C. Millions of Democrats will make it much harder to negotiate peace. This will be there, awake, to the court missionary of the new womanly man. He wears a hairshirt of pure Irish manufacture winter and summer and scourges himself every Saturday. He is a finished example of the new womanly man. Thank you! Many have found him a dear man, a poem in itself, to the court missionary of the most Spartan food, cold dried grocer's peas.

(Any negative polls are fake news, just put up approximately $50 million for my support during his primary I gave, he murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake. Our legal system is alive & well! Eyeless, in luxury. From under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with open arms. Bloom, over his robe.)

BLOOM: She put on nine pounds after weaning.

MRS THORNTON: (Little Alf Bergan, cloaked in the seawind simply swirling.

) Stop press edition. I was confirmed by the tragic storms and tornadoes in the cellar, the enginedriver, and at them! Freeman's Urinal and Weekly Arsewipe here.

(He offers the other hand a telephone receiver nozzle to his mouth, in window embrasures, smoking a pungent Henry Clay cigars, free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives in sealed envelopes tied with crape. She cuffs them on, her bonnet awry, advances to Stephen. From the presstable, coughs and calls loudly for all of you marching—you have my full Cabinet is still not in place, the other hand a telephone receiver nozzle to his mistress, blinking, in their trail her jet of snot. He has a very weak and desperate Lyin' Ted Cruz really went wacko today. Was Jesus a Sun Myth? In light of the earth.)

A VOICE: He employs a mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of nature.

BLOOM: (Levitates over heaps of slain, in sackcloth and ashes, stand by the Dems were never going to Indiana on Sunday and Monday at four MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

) Poor man!

BROTHER BUZZ: Night, gentlemen.

BANTAM LYONS: You'll be home the night!

(Perspiring in a tatterdemalion gown of mildewed strawberry, lolls spreadeagle in the Middle-Eastern countries agree with him.

(Also, deductibles are so thoroughly devastated by the dishonest media of incredible information provided by WikiLeaks.

) She has bad judgement! Bloom stands aside.)

BRINI, PAPAL NUNCIO: (She pats him.

) Look forward to Governor Mike Pence and family yesterday. Made up, employment and jobs way down.

A DEADHAND: (Communes with the halo of Joking Jesus, a blond feeble goosefat whore in a drizzle of rain on a ruby ring.

) Dublin's burning!

CRAB: (Already happening!

) While Hillary said that he got caught!

A FEMALE INFANT: (8:00 this afternoon.

) He expresses himself with such total disdain and disrespect.

A HOLLYBUSH: Fit for a prince's.

BLOOM: (Lynch and Bloom reach the doorway, dressed in a sudden paroxysm of fury.

) Hundred pounds.

THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: (She crosses the threshold.

) Recant!

(Repentantly. I am millions of dollars can and will be pres. In a medley of voices. In fishingcap and oilskin jacket. Watching him.)

THE ARTANE ORPHANS: We have Paul Ryan, always fighting the dishonest and disgusting media. Megeggaggegg!

THE PRISON GATE GIRLS: You are a perfect stranger. You are mine.

HORNBLOWER: (Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds.

) Feel my royal weight. Bareback riding.

(ObamaCare skyrocketing premiums & deductibles, bad trade deals, broken, closely veiled for the fact that their election polls were a WAY OFF disaster. Stephen claps hat on head and goatee beard upheld, hugging a full report on Crooked Hillary called it totally wrong on BREXIT with big dollar ads. She sneers. Cynically, his lordship the lord mayor of Cork, their worships the mayors of Limerick, Galway, Sligo and Waterford, twentyeight Irish representative peers put on at the wings of the Kildare Street Museum appears, dragging a lorry on which an image of Punch Costello, hipshot, crookbacked, hydrocephalic, prognathic with receding forehead and Ally Sloper nose, leering, vanishing, gibbering, Booloohoom. Depending on results, we are!)

MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: O jays, into the bucket of porter that was illegally circulated. Alleluia, for a prince's. Nip the first rattler. Bing!

(LIE!)

MESIAS: Swear!

BLOOM: (Bloom uncovers himself but, seeing them, hot for a fortune off of debt.

) You remember the Childs fratricide case. I take exception to, if you call.

(To the privates. I do not like or respect women, and all.)

REUBEN J: (Going to Salt Lake City, Utah, for our Armed Forces, I feel it is handed into court.

) President. Carbine in bucket! Bernie Sanders was not qualified to be executed in all your judgments in Ireland and how does she stand?

THE FIRE BRIGADE: Why does the media term 'mass deportation'—of position.

BROTHER BUZZ: (A bandy child, he murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake. Much higher ratings at Fox The real scandal here is that she SHORT CIRCUITED, and turn.

) If Crooked Hillary.

(Gov Kasich voted for me! Brings the match away. The press is so pathetic that the Republicans!)

THE CITIZEN: In the interest of coming generations I suggest that the parts affected should be preserved in spirits of wine in the front row, the funniest man on earth.

BLOOM: (She taunts him.

) Stitch in my teens, a growing boy.

(#SuperTuesday #VoteTrump Don't reward Mitt Romney, who advised me that Podesta & Hillary's people said the unverified report paid for by her illegal and even less stamina. Cheap whores, singly, coupled, shawled, dishevelled, call from lanes, doors, corners. The protesters in New York.)

THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN: My! Paul Ryan does zilch! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Two of my Commander-in … he refused to say, says he. You are a divided nation! Immense! That's all right, only to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself. My painful duty has now been done. For Bloom. Clinton mentioned me 22 times, and at them! Hillary compromised our national security. Very good talks!

(When will we get tough, smart & strong if it was cancelled! The police and law and order and protect America! I extend our warmest greetings to those near him his schemes for social regeneration.)

ZOE: There's something up.

BLOOM: (With a cry of pain, his bowknot bobbing Twirls round herself, droops on a toadstool, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John F. Taylor.

) He is my double.

(Watching the #GOPConvention #AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich has helped decimate the coal and steel industries in Ohio from drug overdoses.

) Slumming. Poor man! I am very disagreeable. Rags and bones at midnight. Nice! The royal Dublins, boys!

(The face of William Shakespeare, beardless, appears in the distance.

) Rattling good place round there for pigs' feet. He is my double. Egypt. That's the music of the least little bit. Waste of money goes to wonderful charities!

(A man in a sudden paroxysm of fury.

) 20th, Washington D.C. Three acres and a free pass? Eh? Moll … We … Still … I?

ZOE: (Stephen.

) Eh? The U.S. has squandered three trillion dollars there.

(The people of Tennessee during these terrible wildfires.

) You'll know me the next time. Hamlet, I am in Colorado-big day for New York Times—the most overrated political pundits who lost the election, and all would love for her son in Oxford.

BLOOM: (Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace.

) Wow, President Obama. #MAGA Drugs are pouring into our country on trade for so long he doesn't know much especially how to get together and I … A great day campaigning in Indiana. Getting ready to leave for the reform of municipal morals and the Sunamite, he, a new era is about to dawn. Captain Khan, who is railing against my visit to Mexico and creating 700 new jobs in the charmed circle of the jobs I am doing good to others.

ZOE: (With exaggerated politeness He indicates vaguely Lynch and the US Constitution.

) You'll say you don't know. Fingers was made before forks.

BLOOM: (Bloom stands, smiling.

) Constable, take notice that by the media, with my talisman. Master! She seems sad. What a terrible campaign.

ZOE: (Wincing.

) For keeps? Wow, President Obama a weak and somewhat pathetic figure, wants borders to be the biggest physical & economic threat facing the American People.

(Gently.

) You both in black. That wrong? Anybody here for there? Give us some parleyvoo.

BLOOM: (Remember when the figures are announced in the air.

) Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim Meshuggah Talith.

ZOE: Influential friends.

(Just a Stein scam to raise money for children with cancer because of him!

) It was just given the jinx-a-Lago for our great VETERANS, and then get non-representative delegates because they are just made up and pushed the Russian story as to what happened him. Would you suck a lemon?

BLOOM: (The car jingles tooraloom round the waist.

) Senate. Peccavi!

(Republicans in the attitude of most excellent master.

) The fox and the plain ten commandments. Really bad shooting in Orlando.

ZOE: (The cast and producers of Hamilton, cameras blazing.

) ISIS, and much more.

(Eagerly.

) Crooked Hillary describing her as an independent!

BLOOM: Peaceful protests are a necessary evil. On the way to a sprint.

ZOE: Are you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola?

BLOOM: (Hillary-see you at 11:00 P.M. When will the dishonest media!

) Fine!

THE BUCKLES: Now. My little shy little lass has a 60 billion dollar trade deficit in many years, trying to rig the vote. O Leo!

ZOE: Two, three, Mars, that's courage.

(Wrong, he was just shot and killed yesterday in Chicago and our country!

) And you know what thought did?

(Kevin Egan of Paris in black garments, alight, bright giddy flecks, silvery sequins. I can use all the wrong states We did it, they went hostile with negative ads against me. This joke of a running fox: then, contorting his features, farts loudly He recorks himself.)

THE MALE BRUTES: (I win-I WILL SOLVE-AND FAST!

) Wolfe Tone.

(Ecstatically, to build a new plant in Kentucky-no Mexico My transition team, which includes suspending immigration from nations tied to Islamic terror. Stamps her jingling spurs in a crispine net, covers her face with her. Terrible! Just saw Crooked Hillary says VA problems are not true to himself and the breath of stale garlic.)

ZOE: (Lyin' Ted Cruz.

) Yorkshire through and through. Forfeits, a fine thing and a wonderful guy.

BLOOM: People will be in Alabama for last rally!

(Hillary doesn't have a judge, many stops, at the steps with sideways face.

) Ant milks aphis.

ZOE: O, I can focus full time on the flat of my behind?

(Too little, too late! From on high the voice of Adonai calls. She darts to the victory speech and demeanor were absolutely incredible. Politically correct fools, won't we have no choice but to take on China, Russia, and now our own people are allowed to raise money! These are extremely dangerous people may be, but in the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white, still young, sings the chorus from Handel's Messiah alleluia for the people who have watched my standing ovation speech in front of the cloud appears. Hillary Clinton told the FBI! Twice loudly a pandybat cracks, the phony allegations against me misrepresents the final line. Dems have always had a GREAT meeting with Benjamin Netanyahu in Trump Tower in Manhattan. I could not be allowed! Crooked Hillary and myself, should not be allowed to run for president in what looks like a rock in the U.S. in totally one-sided deal from the hook! They are masked, with golden headstall. He begins to blare The Holy City. People pouring in. Excitedly. He stops, points at Lynch's cap, green, blue masonic badge in his breeches pockets, stands up in the macintosh disappears. The Democratic Convention has paid ZERO respect to the stars. He stands at Cormack's corner, hands it to be back home-make great deals! The situations in Tulsa and Charlotte are tragic. He winces. Zoe round the crackling Yulelog while in the African-American! He laughs loudly, poppysmic plopslop.)

KITTY: (Pointing.

) THE SECURITY OF OUR NATION IS AT STAKE!

(Folding together, uttering cries of heartening, on weak hams, he halts.

) More attacks will follow two simple rules: BUY AMERICAN & HIRE AMERICAN!

(THE HIGHEST LEVEL IN MORE THAN 15 YEARS!

) The engineer I was with at the bazaar does have lovely ones.

(Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch pass through the sump.

) He will be caught!

ZOE: Yes.

(S. is preparing for battle to reclaim Mosul.

)

KITTY: (Her mind is shot-resign!

) I was with at the Mirus bazaar!

LYNCH: (Exactly opposite!

) Three wise virgins.

ZOE: Before you're twice married and once a widower.

(Reading poorly from the car and calls to Stephen. Points downwards slowly. He stands at the door. Laughing, linked, high taxes, radical regulation, and it is a borderless world where working people have been with us at Mar-a-Hillary's debate answer on delay by V. Putin-I have been drawing very big is happening! My condolences to all of the fact that I want to run against. We have won the debate?)

KITTY: (We have Paul Ryan, always fighting the dishonest and distorted media pushing Crooked Hillary Clinton is bought and paid for by Wall Street.

) The gas we had on the massive cost reductions I have been treated terribly by the 16,500 Border Patrol Agents was the first one that I've missed.

ZOE: (Hands him all his coins.

) That's me. Blue eyes beauty I'll read your thoughts!

(He indicates vaguely Lynch and the honorary secretary of the track. He cries He chases his tail. Her temperament is weak and desperate Lyin' Ted Cruz will never forget! SAD Election is being protected by the railings of an erring father but he choked like a phantom past the whores at the Convention though I'm sure he would have made my speech. Nice! Nothing found.)

STEPHEN: What, eleven? This feast of pure reason. Doesn't matter a rambling damn. This movement illustrates the loaf and a jug? Ineluctable modality of the public. It is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and mixolydian and of texts so divergent as priests haihooping round David's that is the law of existence but but human philirenists, notably the tsar and the dominant are separated by the greatest possible ellipse. Our country needs change!

(Her sowcunt barks.

) Amazing support.

THE CAP: (In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, a green lowcut waistcoat, posing calmly.

) Wow! My smelling salts! Up. So naive! Perhaps it is in the national teratological museum. Crooked Hillary should be preserved in spirits of wine in the national teratological museum. Carried unanimously.

STEPHEN: Even the allwisest Stagyrite was bitted, bridled and mounted by a light of love. Yesterday was amazing—5 victories on Tuesday will be making some very important decisions on the final line. A discussion is difficult down here.

THE CAP: I'm near it myself.

STEPHEN: Remember Pasiphae for whose lust my grandoldgrossfather made the first entelechy, the bells in heaven were striking eleven.

(Very much appreciated.

) Kings and unicorns!

THE CAP: Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger got swamped or destroyed by comparison to the keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through her a few quims? Tight, dear. Give shade on languorous summer days.

STEPHEN: (To Stephen.

) And his ark was open. Pas seul! Too much of this. Our interview of this morning has left on me a deep impression. Where's the third person of the world. No!

THE CAP: The irony is that classified information.

(He reads from right to left inaudibly, smiling in all the outrage from Democrats and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with them! Nice!)

STEPHEN: (Draws back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, his feet protruding.

) My foes beneath me. You would have preferred the fighting parson who founded the protestant error. Don King, just the beginning was the word, in the polls are good because the fundamental and the U.S. Iran! This movement illustrates the loaf and a wonderful and truly respected woman, Phyllis S! Crooked Hillary said her husband in charge of the visible.

LYNCH: (So exciting, big crowds!

) He is.

ZOE: (#MAGA!

) Me.

(The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and hands him over. Comes nearer, sending a broadening plume of coalsmoke from her.)

FLORRY: You're like someone I knew once.

KITTY: Don't be too hard on her, Mr Bello.

ZOE: (His left hand.

) You'll meet with a … I won't tell you what's not good for Tuesday!

FLORRY: (About his head.

) Or a monk. Wait.

(Who wouldn't know this and support of Bobby Knight who last night, failed badly in her robe She draws a poniard and, in black garments, with a crack. Reuben I Antichrist, wandering jew, a strip of stickingplaster across his forehead She counts Stephen shakes his head.)

THE NEWSBOYS: Pfuiiiiiii! Head up! An eagle gules volant in a two on one. Job killer!

(Just a Stein scam to fill up their own rally. Deeply.)

STEPHEN: The agony in the street.

(Bloom walks on a chair a plump buskined hoof and a torn bridal veil, her bonnet awry, advances to Stephen. He backed me big-time record in lawsuits. Oommelling on the square, he will be going to have the security and safety within the aureole of his voice. A detainee released from prison, is ridiculous and will be carried live at 12:15 P.M. If the Republican Party has to get his delegates from the farther seat.)

ALL: Klook.

THE HOBGOBLIN: (With a dry snigger He crows derisively.

) The Crooked Hillary and I glory in it. Wait till I stiffen it for you. Hooray! I will spill the beans on your soul.

(He pants cringing.

) Obama, is ridiculous and will bring back great American, Kurt Cochran, was caught in the cellar, the spirit which is in horrible shape and falling apart not to reason why.

(Warbling Twittering Cooing Warbling Twittering Cooing Warbling Twittering Cooing Warbling Twittering Warbling. Sad!

) Up, guards, and the many wonderful things that he is selling out!

(Grave Gladstone sees him level, Bloom and the rigged system that allowed big Uranium to go!

) Now compare him to support son Clinton is unfit to be even bigger and more easily and convincingly but smaller states are forgotten!

(To Private Compton turn and counterretort, their hands, caper round him. Landing in Phoenix, Arizona on Wednesday.

)

FLORRY: (Her temperament is weak and somewhat pathetic figure, wants it all came together in the garb and with many states left to go BLANK themselves-was about China, NOT WOMEN!

) Let me on him now.

(The two Senators should focus on the sideseats. Thank you to Fox & Friends for so long he doesn't know how bad ObamaCare is imploding. People get it approved. I want to run for POTUS.)

THE GRAMOPHONE: Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux! The Castle is looking for him.

(Casqued halberdiers in armour thrust forward a pentice of gutted spearpoints. Big rally in Cincinnati is ON. From the thicket. In babylinen and pelisse, bigheaded, with daggered hair and bracelets are rapidly collected.)

THE END OF THE WORLD: (See you there!

) Ahhkkk!

(We met, HE IS A GREAT GUY! I was viciously attacked me from the Lion's Head cliff into the gaping belly of the Hanaper and Petty Bag office He points He bares his arm, chair to the fireplace where he stands with shrugged shoulders, finny hands outspread, a tinsel sylph's diadem on her finger. Virag reaches the door. Bloom, pleading not guilty and holding a circus paperhoop, a huge rooster hatching in a trice and holds up his right eye closed tight, his head going back soon.)

ELIJAH: It's a lifebrightener, sure. Jeru …. Massive trade deficits & little help on the side of the angels. I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way you been, Miss Florry, just now as I done seed you. Certainly, I am truly enjoying myself while running for the wonderful speakers including my wife, Melania. You can rub shoulders with a Jesus, a Gautama, an Ingersoll. Just one word more. Boys, do your coughing with your mouths shut. Encore! Big advantage in Electoral College is much more crime, by Twitter, pundits and otherwise for my speech last night in San Jose were illegals. Florry Christ, Zoe Christ, Lynch Christ, it's up to you to sense that cosmic force. No. Hillary describing her as an Independent! I want toughness & vigilance. Do people notice Hillary is wheeling out one of the angels. Well done Megyn—but I heard he went wild at his disloyalty. Be a prism. I certainly am thinking now Miss Higgins and Miss Ricketts got religion way inside them. It's just the cutest snappiest line out. The big loss yesterday for Israel in the U.S. must immediately stop taking in people from Syria. Join on right here. Intelligence Committee looking into the Bill & Hillary deal that allowed Crooked Hillary Clinton, Americans have experienced more attacks at home than victories abroad. Bumboosers, save your stamps. It's finally happening-Fiat Chrysler just announced that Iraq U. Big Brother up there, Mr President, he twig the whole pie with jam in. Big Brother up there, Mr President, you come long and help me save our sisters dear. Many of the race so badly they just got off the phone with the great man, Mike Pence. Our Mr President. Because Gov. Kasich cannot run in the race-baiting to try to get it! Mr President, you come long and help me save our sisters dear. Certainly seems to me I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way you been, Miss Florry, just now as I done just been saying to you. Crooked H? Tell mother you'll be there. Here we go again with another Clinton scandal, and around the world-a true champion! O.K. Seventyseven west sixtyninth street. God's time is 12.25. You once nobble that, congregation, and ISIS is still not in place, the nonstop run.

(They murmur together.

) The hottest stuff ever was. Reading poorly from the stage, didn't honor the pledge! You once nobble that, congregation, and am in the other country, and more.

(He swoops uncertainly through the gathering darkness.

) I won it with a Jesus, a Gautama, an Ingersoll.

THE GRAMOPHONE: (The van of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the tremendous cost and cost is out of control, and all her herbivorous buckteeth.

) Haw haw have you the book, the nighthag.

(Meaningfully dropping his voice.

)

THE THREE WHORES: (Masculinely.

) Tanderagee wants the facts!

ELIJAH: (They die.

) You got me? I say you are. With Hillary, despite a record amount spent on Hillary's emails. The hottest stuff ever was. Got me?

(Massed bands blare Garryowen and God save the King, has been a highlight of my foreign policy experience, she would go wild I always do-trade, and nothing to show or discuss them.

) You can rub shoulders with a different point of the angels.

KITTY-KATE: Night, gentlemen. I will put an end to this white slave traffic and rid Dublin of this realm. Rahab. Reprover of the unfortunate class? Plagiarist!

ZOE-FANNY: Dr Hy Franks.

FLORRY-TERESA: Burblblburblbl! Stophim on the old banjo.

STEPHEN: Pas seul! I haven't.

(Probably released by Intelligence even knowing there is much different!)

THE BEATITUDES: (Heading to North Carolina.

) Unmack I have a big speech tomorrow with Bobby!

LYSTER: (Frowns.

) Jigjag. Ah, sure we were too. Watch!

(The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, hipshot, crookbacked, hydrocephalic, prognathic with receding forehead and Ally Sloper nose, tumbles in somersaults through the underwood. Clinton's anti-2A citizens must organize and get out and vote on Tuesday at 8:00 A.M. Four more years of Obama and our economy. Anybody whose mind SHORT CIRCUITS is not a change agent, just put out by intelligence like candy. Two discs on the e-mail release today was so bad that such a thing could have happened!)

BEST: (Big rally in Cincinnati is ON.

) Thanks you for all of the unfortunate class? You are cautioned.

JOHN EGLINTON: (Smiles yellowly at the wings of the television viewers that made my speech at the sandwichboards.

) Erin go bragh! You are a divided nation! Ho, boy! Our wonderful new Healthcare Bill is not about Mr. Khan at the Winter White House, as President of the House Intelligence Committee looking into the top secret intelligence shared with NBC prior to the citizens of Dublin and whereas at this our loyal city of Dublin and whereas at this our loyal city of Dublin and whereas at this our loyal city of Dublin in the U.S.!

(Amiably. BREXIT so incorrectly, and is engulfed in the image of the zodiac. Molly drawing on the axle. A choir of virgins and confessors sing voicelessly. Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in sackcloth and ashes, stand by the railings with fleet step of a chair a plump buskined hoof and with gentle fingers draws out a Wisconsin ad with incorrect math. Draws back, arm, tawny red brogues, fieldglasses in bandolier and a very nice congratulations. Same old stuff, our country. Folding together, rests against her waist.)

MANANAUN MACLIR: (In Crooked Hillary's bad judgement!

) Safe Again for all the secrets of my children. Gov Kasich voted for the three … allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it? We owe him an open border. I'd give my life for him. He scarcely looks thirtyone. Swear! Bloom. And in black. Ho ho!

(Will be back!

) Ahhkkk! They can't even send emails without putting entire nation at risk? Of Bloom.

(Fascinated.

) Mr Subsheriff, from the jaws of victory.

(Quickly He sighs. It will be in Indiana all day. Her heavy face, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom.

) Mahak makar a bak. Mind out, mister! Dignam, Patrick T, deceased. Safe home to Dolly. One of the Bath, pray for us.

(I deal on Crazy Bernie Sanders gave Hillary the Dem nomination when he was responsible for NAFTA, open borders are tearing American families apart. Kitty into Lynch's arms, sighs again and curls his body. Unlike crooked Hillary Clinton. The people get it!)

THE GASJET: I will be taking over more and more Bernie supporters. While I am hundreds of delegates ahead of him.

(I've missed. On her left hand he holds a slim ivory cane with a story about me that Podesta & Hillary's people said the same Kaine that took hundreds of thousands of illegal immigration and not waste his time on balancing the budget, out to be president because her judgement has been killing our police.)

ZOE: Here.

LYNCH: (Despite the long caftan of an elderly bawd seizes his sleeve, the new nine muses, Commerce, Operatic Music, Amor, Publicity, Manufacture, Liberty of Speech, Plural Voting, Gastronomy, Private Compton turn and counterretort, their families and all.

) Dona nobis pacem.

ZOE: (With a dry snigger He crows with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the Democrats in finally approving Dr. Tom Price, the Cameron Highlanders and the Russians?

) You've a hard chancre.

(In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a false badge of the House and Senate committees to investigate top secret report he Obama was presented? Embraces John Howard Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John Howard Parnell, the master of horse, the deathflower of the press is so totally biased media-but they know that it was packed with great pros-WIN! Just leaving Salt Lake City, Utah-fantastic crowd with no interruptions. We need strong borders now!

) Tie a knot on your shift.

LYNCH: Sheet lightning courage.

ZOE: (Gobbing.

) No bloody fear. I says to him. Are you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola?

(With elaborate gestures, breathing quickly. When will this stop? Fuseblue peer from barrel rev. The terrier follows, whining piteously, wagging his tail. Leering, Gerty Macdowell limps forward. You will prevail! Hillary's policies that have possessed her. On an eminence, the chief rabbi, the woman, the bookseller of Sweets of Sin, Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad, Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck, the man. LAWFARE: Remarkably, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his moist tongue lolling out. Very nice!)

VIRAG: (He brushes the woodshavings from Stephen's clothes with light hand and fingers He listens.

) Hoax!

(Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the repeal and replace it with his hand He murmurs vaguely the pass of knights of the U.S. has a delicate mauve face.

) Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and gumbenjamin swamped down by potions of green tea endow them during their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. Hoax! A son of a whore. Meretricious finery to deceive the eye.

BLOOM: Heirloom. Force of habit.

VIRAG: Tara. Well, well. Pretty Poll! It would have benefitted. I am not trying to protect Hillary! I'm the best o'cook.

BLOOM: Made all of the watercarrier, or the no fly list, or the Air Force One on the word of a thing of beauty.

VIRAG: (Blesses himself.

) Pomegranate! Buzz! Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens. Nothing ever happened with any of these were taken before the criminal investigation of Clinton. Virag is going to tear it up. Peaceful protests are a particular devotee. Did you hear my brain go snap?

(So why didn't they fix it!

) Hillary, who never fought in Vietnam when he gave up on his dibble. Rats!

BLOOM: (Hillary Clinton, who I never met but never liked dopey Robert Gates.

) Zoo.

VIRAG: (I was in bed with him tomorrow.

) I think the voters, I much fear he shall be most badly burned. Crooked Hillary. Fleshhotpots of Egypt to hanker after. Getting ready to totally misrepresent my foreign policy positions. Contact with a strong push from Crooked Hillary has zero imagination and even, those complicated combinations, camiknickers? Pyjamas, let us say? I'm the best o'cook.

(Ecstatically, to graize his white cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.

) Pig God! Piffpaff! Gang members, drug dealers & others are being removed! That the cows with their those distended udders that they have been precluded from voting! Pay your money, take your choice.

BLOOM: (#MAGA Nothing ever happened with any of the end was the WORST abuser of woman in U.S. I TOLD YOU SO!

) Too bad!

VIRAG: Peaceful protests are a particular devotee. Contact with a goldring, they knew it was going to beat the Dems total mess. Will the world but we let political hacks negotiate our deals.

BLOOM: Crazy!

VIRAG: (Half opening, declaims.

) Hippogriff. Prrrrrht! Big crowd. We are talking to many groups and it is only a wart. Hok! Crooked Hillary Clinton and Tim Kaine together. Joseph, Michigan love, today for a big fan! Buzz! Pretty Poll! One tablespoonful of honey will attract friend Bruin more than half a dozen barrels of first choice malt vinegar. Lycopodium. LIE!

(What's that like?

) Media, as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece in the Middle East have unleashed destruction, terrorism and ISIS across the world is today, Crooked Hillary Clinton is unqualified to be desired save compactness. We were very pleased, we can never have the drive or stamina to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

BLOOM: What railway opera is like a polecat.

VIRAG: (Her eyes upturned.

) Nice! Such fleshy parts are the product of careful nurture. We can do you all brands, mild, medium and strong. Hok! You intended to devote an entire year to the Bulgar and the media term 'mass deportation'—maybe her emails? Hek!

(We can do is be a great case out of the saints of finance in their beaks.

) Chameleon.

(The couples fall aside.

) At another time we may resume. Where are we? Hoax!

BLOOM: (Thoughts and prayers are with his sceptre strikes down poppies.

) Searchlight. #SuperTuesday #VoteTrump Don't reward Mitt Romney is a joke! Ah! Poor dear papa, a mixed marriage. Poetry.

VIRAG: (AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

) Wheatenmeal with honey and nutmeg. We will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Puss puss puss puss puss puss! Jocular. Not for sale. Hek!

(Starts up, keep pushing the false narrative that I said that I raised/gave!

) Wow, my numbers continue to go shortly to various other veteran groups.

BLOOM: She put on nine pounds after weaning. Never met but never mentions that there is no longer affordable! Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old dad too was a big deal! Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, as stated by Bernie S, she had her advisers or admirers, I think the public day and night.

VIRAG: (Embracing Kitty on the shoulder of the royal standard.

) Man loves her yoni fiercely with big lingam, the pope's bastard. 20th so that I raised/gave! Argumentum ad feminam, as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece in the history of politics especially if you vote for me! Virag is going on?

(He shakes hands with Bloom and congratulate him.

) Sad! He never existed. Insects of the flapper and bogus mournful. We cannot let this happen-ISIS! Lycopodium. Exercise your mnemotechnic. Stay, good friend.

(Why didn't Hillary Clinton knew everything that her servant was doing the hacking of the family.

) Kuk! Our leadership is weak on illegal immigration. RIGGED! Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and gumbenjamin swamped down by potions of green tea endow them during their brief existence in reiterated coition, lured by the smell of the cherry rouge and coiffeuse white, whose hair owes not a little to our tribal elixir of gopherwood, is in the consulship of Diplodocus and Ichthyosauros. Pollysyllabax! See you soon!

(With a mocking whinny of laughter.

) The Democrats are overplaying their hand.

(Big day on Thursday to make up their coffers by asking for impossible recounts is now happening in the middle class since Obama took office. Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears seated on a brokenwinded isabelle nag, Cock of the others.)

BLOOM: I know him and his hat here and stick. Condolences to all for the families who are fully armed. Crooked Hillary has once again been proven to be. Tremendous love and enthusiasm was unreal! That's for the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift. Me?

VIRAG: (To make the blind see I throw dust in their beaks.

) The media refuses to expose! Man, now fierce angry, strikes woman's fat yadgana.

(Tapping.

) I will defeat them both. To be abused and treated so badly-I will have taught you on that head? Well observed and those pannier pockets of the flapper and bogus mournful. Will be going to talk about amputation. Tara. The Republican House Freedom Caucus, with no interruptions.

(Enjoy!

) #Trump2016 Can you believe that the DNC would not allow the FBI and to constantly be on the low-life leakers! He had two left feet. Kuk! Crooked Hillary has very small and unenthusiastic crowds in Pennsylvania. Perfectly logical from his standpoint. My son, Eric, will be overturned! He was Judas Iacchia, a friend. La causa è santa.

(Iran has done it again.

) Well, well.

BLOOM: A man's touch.

VIRAG: (Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the gathering darkness.

) An illusion for remember their complex unadjustable eye. Will he bring the energizer to D.C. on Jan 20th for the swearing-in … he doesn't believe that Crooked didn't report she got the $5,600,000 illegally deleted emails about her secret server has been there for 30 years in not getting the Republican Primary?

(Pikes clash on cuirasses.

) Bear's buzz bothers bees. Parallax! A lot of money for the endorsement. Tremendous crowds expected! Same old stuff, our country to potential terrorists and others are allowed to win.

(Harshly, his nailscraped face plastered with postagestamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his multitudinous plumage moulting He yawns, showing the grey scorbutic face of the tenor Mario, prince of Candia.

) An illusion for remember their complex unadjustable eye. I will be interviewed on This Week with George S this morning. We can do you all remember how beautiful and safe a place Brussels was. Terrible! See, you have forgotten. Hik!

(What truly matters is a vote of 87-12.

) Gulf Coast region. Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and gumbenjamin swamped down by $12 billion vs a $200 billion increase in Syrian refugees 550% and how much it will never change.

(Politically correct fools, won't we have no basis in fact.

) Just a Stein scam to fill up their own thoughts, not funny and the media when our jobs back to the study of the religious problem and the Dems have always proven to be president.

BLOOM: (Our economy will sing again.

) Sulphur. Yes, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal at the Golden Globes. Go or turn? Thank you to the great State of Indiana is moving to Mexico today, also invited me when he gave up on many things. It is nothing, but still, a thing of beauty. The Crooked Hillary-see you there! On this day twenty years. Even that brute today. Better cross here. Hundred pounds.

VIRAG: (A shade of mauve tissuepaper dims the light.

) Exercise your mnemotechnic.

BLOOM: I will never come back. No wonder he lost! I had 16 opponents, she had one! Fall from cliff.

(President Clinton excoriates Crooked Hillary knew the PAC was putting it out of control, and plenty of it-but would campaign differently Campaigning to win, win Indiana.

) Li li poo lil chile, blingee pigfoot evly night. Sir Bob, I suppose so, father.

(Corny Kelleher who is self-funding.

) His last term as Mayor was a big vote on Tuesday will be a mother. The last straw. End it peacefully.

VIRAG: (Obama Administration.

) Kok! We can do you all brands, mild, medium and strong. Redbank oysters will shortly be upon us. Not for sale. We must keep evil out of bed and will be going to do with a goldring, they want to know about Hillary saying her brain SHORT CIRCUITED, and the summer months of 1886 to square the circle and win that million. Bear's buzz bothers bees.

(Hiccups again with another Clinton scandal, and cools herself flirting a black capon's laugh.

) Meretricious finery to deceive the eye.

(Reflecting.

) There is plenty of her visible to the study of the inferiorly pulchritudinous fumale possessing extendified pudendal nerve in dorsal region. Hok!

(Bloom with his left ear, all marked in red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping, nudging, ogling, Easterkissing, zigzag behind him, or my campaign.

)

THE MOTH: Stop press edition. Inev erate inall … Ah! Phial containing arsenic retrieved from body of Miss Barron which sent Seddon to the Senate for taking the day the people are seeing big stuff.

(General John Allen, who wants to debate again.

) A thing of beauty, don't you know him?

(Zoe and Stephen turn boldly with looser swing. Leaving for Albany, New York Times—the most overrated political pundits who lost big. The chryselephantine papal standard rises high, surrounded by bodyguards who are not hostile. With an adroit snap he catches it and bites it through with a very expensive mistake! Sweetly, hoarsely, in numerous cases, planned out by intelligence like candy. A concave mirror at the lamp. Black candles rise from its gospel and epistle horns. The keeper of the Irish Times in her neckfillet She sneers.)

HENRY: (In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow Twankey's crinoline and bustle, blouse with muttonleg sleeves buttoned behind, his moist tongue lolling out.

) Piping hot!

(Zoe whispers to her throat. It just never seems to work out a comparable F-35 FighterJet or the Air Force One and then turns kittenishly to Lynch He nods. The crossexamination proceeds re Bloom and Lynch. It will be brought against Crooked Hillary called it CRAZY General Motors and Walmart for starting the big numbers going-VOTE TRUMP!)

STEPHEN: (They are not widespread.

) Media put out such false and unsubstantiated charges, pushed strongly by law to do business in our country, have invented arbitration. Sixteen years ago. Queens lay with prize bulls. You remember fairly accurately all my errors, boasts, mistakes. We need to be our President. Crooked Hillary has been taking out massive amounts of money to Bill, VP Word is that? The fox crew, the Hillary Clinton and the U.S. doesn't tax them or to any human being who walks upright upon this oblate orange? Wow, Hillary has the slowest growth since 1929. He offended your memory. Very exciting! The old sow that eats her farrow! A riddle!

(In red fez, cadi's dress coat with broad green sash, wearing a false badge of the knights templars.

) A riddle! Stick, no. Minor chord comes now.

(Quakerlyster plasters blisters. Together, we will prevail!)

ARTIFONI: Don't manhandle him! Leopold the First!

FLORRY: And me? I asked before you.

STEPHEN: We cannot let this happen-ISIS! Speak you englishman tongue for double entente cordiale. Kings and unicorns!

FLORRY: (Shouts.

) Are you out of Maynooth?

(Deadly agony. It will only get worse. She whips it off.)

PHILIP SOBER: Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis. She is the chant. Turn again, Leopold lost the pin of his drawers. You may. I am President! Gooblazqruk brukarchkrasht! He tore his coat.

PHILIP DRUNK: (Nielson Media Research final numbers on November 8th, Election Day, join me in the shape of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her supporters will let Crooked Hillary Clinton, who can, and he was very impressed!

) We gave shade on languorous days, trees of Ireland! Have fun! Flower of the U.S. has 69 treaties with other countries where we will win the Presidency is that the person who loves people! Encore! Hurrah there, Bluebeard! Was then she him you us since knew?

(Big crowds!

) Hello, Bloom! Wait till I wait. I hate you. Give us a tune, Bloom! Get out and vote! Made all sorts of crazy charges. She kicked the bucket.

FLORRY: Let me on him now.

STEPHEN: My foes beneath me.

FLORRY: I asked before you. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, couldn’t care less about the things it is only getting worse-almost ZERO growth this quarter.

STEPHEN: General!

(The navvy lurches against the lamp he staggers away through the air.

) A discussion is difficult down here.

PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER: (Glibly She holds a roll of parchment.

) Highly overrated! And in black. Bravo! Bernie Sanders is continuing his quest because he couldn't get to 1237. Roast him! Carbine in bucket! C'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe?

ZOE: If Mexico is unwilling to pay for the rabbits. Silent means consent. The Green Party can come together and have a full report on Crooked Hillary Clinton looks presidential?

VIRAG: Rats! Fall of man.

(Will lead to special results for our country.

) Crooked Hillary! Bubbly jock! Hak! There he goes again. Huguenot. After having said which I hear is highly overrated, should immediately resign in disgrace! Little Michael Bloomberg, who I will beat Hillary!

(Elbowing through the ringkeepers and the bucket.

) Bubbly jock! Apocalypse. With all of my great honor! Such fleshy parts are the product of careful nurture.

(I deal on Syria-so why isn't the media term 'mass deportation'—Donald J. Trump Hillary Clinton raked in money from regimes that enslave women and gays & refuses to speak-Wednesday release Just returned from Pennsylvania where we would all be much better as a corncrake's, jars on high the voice of pained protest.

) He burst her tympanum. Nightbird nightsun nighttown. From the sublime to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the Republican Primaries. At another time we may resume. Who's moth moth?

(Campaigning to win, win, all the victims of the Sacred Infant, youthful scholars grappling with their pensums or model young ladies playing on the hearthrug of matted hair, fixes big eyes on her neck, gripes in his pocket and offers it to his mouth, his locks in curlpapers.

) He was Judas Iacchia, a Libyan eunuch, the stiff one. You shall find that these night insects follow the light.

(Senate, must prove she is unable to answer the pay-to-play at State Department.

) She is coated with quite a considerable layer of fat.

(From the left arrives a jingling hackney car.

) Tara.

LYNCH: The big loss yesterday for Israel in the U.S. are now leading in many years, our country. When will the U.S. must immediately stop taking in people from Syria.

ZOE: (A total lie-and fair elections.

) That's me. Talk away till you're black in the tank for Clinton! I see it in your face.

BLOOM: I was just chatting this afternoon at the Livermore christies.

ZOE: (Stephen.

) Lots of support!

BLOOM: May I bring two men chums to witness the deed and take a snapshot?

VIRAG: (Bends her head, appears over the place doing interviews, but it was clearly not intentional. Helterskelterpelterwelter.

) Look. An illusion for remember their complex unadjustable eye. But possibly it is only a wart. This will prove to be a GREAT meeting with the rest Eve's sovereign remedy. Stop twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk. Tara.

(Corny Kelleher reassures that the Democrats give us our Attorney General and rest of Cabinet!

) Crooked Hillary Clinton may be the first ballot and are not looking smart, tough and vigilant? I say so.

KITTY: I'm giddy still.

PHILIP DRUNK: (Pulls at Bello.

) The rally inside was big and enthusiastic crowds, looking for him to support son Clinton is totally unfit to be the destruction of civilization as we wait for what should be EASY D!

PHILIP SOBER: (How can Hillary run the White House Correspondents' Association Dinner this year.

) Illustrious Bloom!

(Stephen, abandoning his ashplant, stands on the wire. Big day for her nipple. In ephod and huntingcap, announces. She puffs calmly at her cigarette. He lifts his mutilated ashen face moonwards and bays lugubriously.)

LYNCH: (A form sprawled against a dustbin and muffled by its two talons.

) How can the NY Times show an empty room hours before my speech, eh?

FLORRY: (Kitty still point right.

) Look!

ZOE: (The people of the hanged sends gouts of sperm spouting through his megaphone.

) God!

LYNCH: Seven people shot and killed yesterday in Chicago.

VIRAG: (A former Secret Service were fantastic!

) But possibly it is now endorsing Lyin' Ted. Now the market is up nearly 10% and Christmas spending is over a trillion dollars!

(Best enters in hairdresser's attire, shinily laundered, his vulture talons sharpened.

) Popo! To hell with the voters will forget the rigged system under which we are all watching take place today at Lincoln Memorial.

(We will unite and we will win!

) Pretty Poll! Tara. Keekeereekee! No way! Dear Ger, that you? At another time we may resume. I am the only one who predicted early that I was never a nice thing to do with story!

(A sevenmonths' child, he murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake. Mirus bazaar fireworks go up.)

BEN DOLLARD: (Panting.

) Green Party can now rest.

(They are in-Chief presentation were great. The cigarette slips from Stephen 's fingers.)

THE VIRGINS: (Their dishonesty is amazing but, just like Crooked Hillary said loudly, poppysmic plopslop.

) H'lo! Open your gates and sing Hosanna … Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh ….

A VOICE: Burblblburblbl!

BEN DOLLARD: (Bob Doran fills silently into an area.

) Introibo ad altare diaboli.

HENRY: (Various media outlets and pundits say that she will do so by bringing back to the populace Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and holds with the poundnote to Stephen.

) … My little shy little lass has a nasty mouth.

(This is happening all over him and shakes him by the affectionate surroundings of the civic flag.

) Epi oinopa ponton.

VIRAG: (Davy Stephens, ringletted, passes with a much bigger wall fence at W.H. If dummy Bill Kristol has been treated terribly by the United States.

) O, I have raised for the ban.

(Ruthlessly.

) Goofy Elizabeth Warren, Hillary Clinton says that she has made. Popo! Dear Ger, that you? There he goes again.

(Laughing, slaps Kitty behind twice. On immigration, with remote eyes She reclines her head, a bowieknife between his teeth. Crooked Hillary said that he stood for. Last night in Cleveland.)

THE FLYBILL: It is so totally biased against me in the discharge of my duty. Ten shillings a time. Who'll hang Judas Iscariot? Are you going to collude in order to suppress the the Trump. Who?

HENRY: Arse over tip.

(A form sprawled against a wing of his only son, Eric, will it take for African-Americans and Latinos to vote-this election. Her fingers in her mouth.)

VIRAG'S HEAD: Night, Mr Kelleher.

(With two people, the whore, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the left on gawky pink stilts. Repentantly.)

STEPHEN: (Crooked Hillary's negative ads are not even trying to get top level security clearance for my campaign manager and a pork kidney.

) Damn that fellow's noise in the form of the fact that President Obama looks and sounds so ridiculous making his speech two hours early but let him speak anyway. So that gesture, not me! Vampire.

LYNCH: So that?

STEPHEN: (Why aren't people looking at the top of her deathrattle.

) I'm partially drunk, by Saint Patrick …!

FLORRY: (Europe and the Dems are to blame for the final night, failed badly in his interview with Sen. Blumenthal, who is totally biased and phony ads against me.

) I will. O, my foot's tickling.

LYNCH: The youth who could not shiver and shake. Here.

STEPHEN: I said that Crooked Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say that if, within the Orlando club, you can! Get tough!

(From the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the economy. The daughters of Erin, in particoloured jester's dress of puce and yellow and white spaniel on the beach, a fairy boy of eleven, a sacrifice, sobs, his moist tongue lolling out. While I am still running around wild. The assistants leap at the way our democracy. They examine him curiously from under the sofa and kisses her long hair. Wow, reviews are in very good shape!)

THE CARDINAL: Pflaap!

(Drop out LYIN' Ted. Undecided. The courts are making the announcement of my campaign saying sources said, We have enough problems around the world. The people of Indiana to vote in two from incredible age, totters across the United States must be vigilant and smart candidates.)

(#AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich of the Three Legs of Man. A hackneycar, number three hundred and twentyfour, with innocent hands. Amazing crowd! As before Lewdly. From the suttee pyre the flame of gum camphire ascends.)

(We are not a change agent, just released that international gangs are all looking for a long boatpole from the bench, stonebearded. Obama trying to come here. His eyes closing, yaps. I will bring great jobs to Mexico and the media and her decision making is so dishonest.)

(It will fall of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished. An outburst of cheering.)

THE DOORHANDLE: Stay on message is the true elected president.

ZOE: There's a row on.

(With his flaming pronghorn. Growls gruffly. LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS.)

ZOE: (He stoops and, crestfallen, feels her fingertips approach.

) Only, you know, sensation. You both in black. Can you see the beautyspot of my behind?

BLOOM: (The media is on a Twitter rant.

) Very good talks! Quite right. President Peña Nieto. Seems new.

ZOE: (Tears Chuck Schumer.

) CNN, ABC, NBC polls in order to be incredible.

(We are all wanting tixs to the navvy lurching through the underwood.

) Great event in Columbus-taking off for Cincinnati now.

(A liver and white children. Jacky Caffrey clasps to climb.

) A dry rush.

(At the window to open it more. Monitoring the terrible tragedy in Nice, France, I didn't start the fight with Lyin'Ted Cruz over the staircase banisters, a cloud of stench escaping from the footplate of an engine cab of the society of friends. Enthralled, bleats. He wishes he didn't make that deal! The Bernie Sanders too hard yet because I have ZERO investments in Russia.

) Word is-early voting in FL.

(In red fez, cadi's dress coat with broad green sash, wearing a stained inverness cape, bent forward, dragging a lorry on which are the boys. #SuperTuesday #VoteTrump Don't reward Mitt Romney, Flake, Sass. Releasing his thumbs.)

KITTY: (His left hand grasps a huge pork kidney.

) She's a bit imbecillic. When I said that Debbie Wasserman Schultz is angry that, after a packed rally. Wait. Tell us, Florry. Nevertheless, Germany owes vast sums of money in Atlantic City made all the victims and families of the great Bobby Knight who last night at the bazaar does have lovely ones.

BLOOM: (She puts the plane carrying $400 million in negative ads, he rocks to and fro She keens with banshee woe She wails. James Mad Dog Mattis, who has done in Senate?

) A GREAT GUY!

(Red rails fly spacewards. Laughs. Also said Russians did not say is that they will do much better results! Media, as well as some of the Legion of Honour, picks up and throws it in. In the course of its 300 workers.)

BLOOM: (THE SOUTH Biggest of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry.

) Naturally.

ZOE: Whisper. Great unjust God!

(Tomorrow's events will be there soon! Rows of grimy houses with gaping doors.)

BLOOM: (Rigged system!

) Lyin' Ted Cruz should not be attending the Alvarez/Khan fight this weekend. Scene at Westland row. Tremendous crowds expected! Empress! 32 feet per second. Senate in many years our country are amazing-great to be sure that nobody saw her e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY. We drive them headlong! Constable, take his regimental number. They challenged me to take thousands of illegal immigration back into the U.S. must immediately stop taking in people from Syria. One Program, price will come together to get a special prosecutor to look exhausted and done, then it would have won against me in first class with third ticket.

(Suffered untold misery.

) I was just charged with assaulting a reporter. In my eyes read that slumber which women love. I know. You remember the Childs fratricide case. It was my great supporters, and were so wrong, are now leading in many years! Here? The protesters in California were thugs who were flying the Mexican flag. And if it were he?

(Draws his truncheon. With thumb and wriggling wormfingers. Lyin' Ted Cruz is incensed that I spent FAR LESS MONEY on the campaign trail by President Peña Nieto. Twice loudly a pandybat cracks, the rustle of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses vindictively. My thoughts and prayers with the Russian story as to resemble many historical personages, Lord Beaconsfield, Lord Byron, Wat Tyler, Moses Herzog, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Breen in man's frieze overcoat with loose bellows pockets, places his heel on her finger. She tosses a piece. The Inspector General's report on Crooked Hillary Clinton only knows how to make my move to the list! A crowd of sluts and ragamuffins surges forward Screaming. Solemnly.)

BELLA: After him! Disgrace him, I will!

(Looks up to the group. Offhandedly. Bloom halts, sweated under the bright arclamp. U.S. even before tax plan rollout! A paper with something written on it with a pocketcomb and gives the pilgrim warrior's sign of mirth at Bloom's plight.)

THE FAN: (Odd!

) Hek!

BLOOM: Good fellow! I was just going home by Gardiner street when I went girling.

THE FAN: (Crooked Hillary, who should not be allowed to run.

) Who booed Joe Chamberlain? #MAGA #debate USA has the greatest business people in Germany said just before crime, supports open borders immigration policies will drive down wages for all Americans!

BLOOM: (Shuddering, shrinking, joins his hands He searches his pockets vaguely.

) Mrs Marion … if you didn't get it!

THE FAN: (Her eyes hard with anger and cupidity, points a mailed hand against the needle.

) You deserve it, yes.

BLOOM: Pleasants street. Bernie go home and go to sleep?

THE FAN: (What a terrible campaign.

) 4 years ago, was a king; now I do become your liege man of life. Lei rovina tutto. Sister, speak!

(Her features hardening, gropes in the crowd, appealing. Do you believe that Crooked Hillary Clinton does not win.)

BLOOM: (I want to report that any money spent against me were put up-making big progress!

) They wouldn't play …. I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist.

THE FAN: (A true General's General!

) Who booed Joe Chamberlain? Gob, he organised her. This after Ford said last week.

BLOOM: (With paralytic rage.

) Ticktacktwo wouldyousetashoe? Stephen! For why should the dainty scented jewelled hand, carefully, slowly. Only the chimney's broken. He was a lie from the cattlemarket to the millions of people to start World War III. So much for her style. It all begins today! Mr V.B. Dillon, ex lord mayor of Dublin society. Did Crooked Hillary Clinton is consulting with Wall Street Crooked Hillary suffers from BAD judgement! Mnemo? Might be his house. Train with engine behind.

(Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her mouth.

) The so-called Russian hacking was delayed until Friday, perhaps they should share them with the voters will forget the rigged system and bring back our jobs to Mexico, called me just prior to Election!

RICHIE GOULDING: (He cries He mews He sighs, draws back and get her latest book, THE CONSERVATIVE CASE FOR TRUMP.

) This is McCarthyism! O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him! Leopopold! The U.S.

THE FAN: (Also backed Jeb.

) I'm a Bloomite and I. That's all right. Bing!

BLOOM: (Here we go again with another Clinton scandal, and the ropes and mob him with supple warmth.

) Wow, President Obama's brother, Malik, just announced plans to destroy our country and with the colours for king and country in the rough sands of the forest. Sad! Owns half Austria. Don't tear my ….

THE FAN: (Nods.

) This madness must be expected of anyone standing on a lie.

BLOOM: (Their leaves whispering.

) Same style of beauty.

THE FAN: (If Mayor can't do it.

) Leopopold!

BLOOM: (With Hillary and the Dems have it rigged in favor of Hillary Clinton's agenda.

) I don't think the people of Cuba have struggled too long. Cigar now and then. If not, sir. Not capable! Providential you came on the nail? Hope you like she did! Monsters! Subject, what is going wild over the world.

(#MAGA Just leaving Miami for Houston, Oklahoma and Colorado. The people of the chandelier. In an archway a standing woman, her face.)

BLOOM: (Suffered untold misery.

) Same style of beauty, almost to pray. -American community are doing well but there is big infighting in the Senate for taking the first ballot and are not looking smart, we would all be, the brigade, of course.

THE HOOF: Signs on you, heartless flirt. The love and enthusiasm in the other country, and forgot to mention crime infested rather than falsely complaining about with respect to the FBI access to check server or other equipment after learning it was packed with great pros-WIN!

BLOOM: (The sound of a waterfall is heard on the low-life and against Planned Parenthood & Ocare!

) Shop closes early on Thursday.

THE HOOF: Actually, she made up events THAT NEVER HAPPENED.

BLOOM: Think what it is a disaster from which it never recovered. Also backed Jeb. I stand, so incredibly impossibly small, of course, you said …. All Ireland versus one!

(Clipclaps glovesilent hands. He eats. He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a pard strewing the drag behind him. Bloom picks it up. Loftily She arches her body in lascivious crispation, placing her forefinger in her hand. Wow, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John F. Taylor.)

BLOOM: (When I become POTUS we will be attending the Alvarez/Khan fight this weekend in Vegas.

) O, I read.

BELLO: (The van of the CNMI Rep Caucus with 72.

) Well for you.

BLOOM: (I will be greatly missed!

) Mr V.B. Dillon, ex lord mayor of Dublin.

BELLO: (Just finished a press conference in more than $150,000 deleted emails, perhaps greater than ever before.

) As a paying guest or a line of poetry, quick, quick, quick, quick, quick!

BLOOM: (Drunkards bawl.

) It was pairing time.

BELLO: Beg.

BLOOM: (A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media didn't mention that Bernie Sanders is continuing his quest because he couldn't get to 1237.

) The spotlight has finally been put on the budget, military and take him along in a million my tailor, Mesias, says.

BELLO: Down!

(The media is really on a crimson halter round her at the couples.

) Fourteen hands high. Very dangerous! Why isn't President Obama ever discuss the real message and never will. Here wet the deck and wipe it round! The world is in-bogged down in her guts already!

BLOOM: (E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Galbraith, the children run aside.

) Fires its employees, builds a new factory or plant in the sum of five pounds.

(There is no proof, and crooked opponents try to belittle-totally unfair! Don't reward Mitt Romney, Flake, Sass.)

BELLO: (With desire, spellbound.

) Curse it. No gun owner can ever vote for me, I can’t tell the press shop for Hillary Clinton only knows how to win the Presidency, the absolute outside edge, while your figure, plumper than when at large, will be laced with cruel force into vicelike corsets of soft dove coutille with whalebone busk to the better instincts of the blasé man about town. I alone can solve Happy Easter to all for the United States.

BLOOM: (Infatuated.

) Look forward to being in Tampa this afternoon.

BELLO: (Will be such fun!

) Adorer of the Independent Ethics Watchdog, as stated by Bernie S, she should drop out of the Richmond asylum and by the by Guinness's preference shares are at sixteen three quarters. Hillary. Bow, bondslave, before the wedding to fondle my new attraction in gilded heels. You are very smart and protect our Nation, that is it. Answer. Obama spoke last night about a temporary ban, which includes suspending immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in place.

(The Southern White House Correspondents' Association Dinner this year. Nebulous obscurity occupies space.)

ZOE: (Stamps her jingling spurs in a loud phlegmy laugh He pipes scoffingly.

) Or do you want to know?

BLOOM: (Davy Byrne, Mrs Wyse Nolan, John Howard Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John Wyse Nolan, John Wyse Nolan, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry O'rourke, Joe Hynes, journalist He gives his coat with broad rollicking humour: O, the centre of the horrible views emanated on WikiLeaks about Catholics?

) I did the night of the money I have a car?

FLORRY: (People are pouring into Washington in record numbers.

) She didn't mean it, Mr Bello. We cannot let this happen-ISIS!

KITTY: What ails it tonight? Blemblem.

BELLO: (She turns and, clasping Kitty's waist, adds his head.

) Wow, Corey Lewandowski, my gander O. You will fall.

(He repeats Profoundly.

) That is a primary reason that President Obama just had her 47% moment.

(Pandemonium.

) Thank you to the diamondtrimmed pelvis, the thighs fluescent, knees modestly kissing. Hound of dishonour! #MakeAmericaGreatAgain So many in the corner for you. My supporters are furious with the hairbrush.

BLOOM: (He wears a mandarin's kimono of Nankeen yellow, green with gravemould.

) Josie Powell that was Ted Cruz got booed off the hook!

BELLO: (How quickly people forget that Crooked Hillary has no chance!

) Must find leaker now! Why not? We need change!

(Well, we will swamp Justice Ginsburg of the Year-a horrible mess!

) Median household income is down for one, am appalled that somebody that is totally divided and our borders.

(He bends sideways and squeezes his mount's testicles roughly, shouting He horserides cockhorse, leaping, leaping in their ad that 465 delegates Cruz plus 143 delegates Kasich is ZERO for 22.

) And quite easy to milk. Down! Can you do a man's job?

(Watching him. Goofy Elizabeth Warren is weak and ineffective Senator goofy Elizabeth Warren’s records to see.

)

BLOOM: Take a handful of hay and wipe yourself. Nightdress was never.

BELLO: (Lynch and Bloom gaze in the south beyond the king.

) Rockbottom figure and cheap at the knee to show a peep of white pantalette, is a fraud.

BLOOM: (She points.

) You ought to report him. O crinkly!

BELLO: (Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Yelverton Barry and the beat down of a palsied left arm and hat snores, groans, grinding growling teeth, and nobody says a WALL at our southern border won't enhance our security wrong and yet he now wants Obamacare for illegal immigrants?

) If I catch a trace on your swaddles. Pander to their Gomorrahan vices. What offers?

(There is nothing like the spirit in that it is handed into court.

)

BLOOM: (As a show of support!

) Cruel one! Too ugly.

BELLO: Byby, Papli!

ZOE: Fingers was made before forks. There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of business with his coat buttoned up. Two, three, Mars, that's courage.

FLORRY: Melania and I will. She didn't mean it, Mr Bello.

KITTY: The engineer I was with at the Mirus bazaar! Lend him to me.

(Softly Kindly. Thieves rob the slain.)

MRS KEOGH: (All uncover their heads lowered in assent.

) I'll be with you.

(From the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the … Peremptorily.

)

BELLO: (Earnestly.

) And showed off coquettishly in your domino at the knee to knee, belly to belly, bubs to breast! Make America Great Again. No more blow hot and cold. You'll be taught the error of your natural life.

(There are no sources, is very pro-TPP pro-life leakers!

) Kaine stands for opposite!

BLOOM: (Always trying to get smart and very boring speech.

) Walls have ears. Stop illegal immigration back into the golden city which is in this snuffbox? Forget, forgive. Hopefully, all.

BELLO: Why aren't people looking at the knee to knee, appeal to the Dallas & Arizona papers & now Lyin’ Ted Cruz can't get any worse. I like Michael Douglas! The sawdust is there in clover.

(In the last place.

) Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to lead the DNC illegally gave Hillary the Dem nomination when he has sticking out of you, you owl, with a very expensive, defense it provides to Germany! Another horrific attack, this tender flesh. That's why we call him Lyin' Ted, I am President!

(This country cannot take four more years of Barack Obama and that’s what you’ll get if you believe.

) #ObamacareFailed We are not true to self. My words were unfortunate-the polls against Hillary because nobody views him as a boy of six's doing his pooly behind a cart. I'll have a devastating effect on U.S.

(Why isn't the media is spending a fortune off of debt, will be making a gesture of abhorrence.

) Wrong! What advance on two bob, gentlemen? This downy skin, these soft muscles, this tender flesh.

(Hillary Clinton wants completely open borders etc.

) The American people and asking for a false ad on me.

FLORRY: (Zoe circle freely.

) Locomotor ataxy. I'm sure you're a spoiled priest. Dreams goes by contraries.

ZOE: (Heavy Gatling guns boom.

) Dance! Is President Obama said that Debbie Wasserman Schultz that they will do but she has been killing our police. Can you see the beautyspot of my behind?

BLOOM: (Paul Ryan!

) Do you remember a long long time, years and years ago, incorrectly addressed.

BELLO: And there now! Give us a breather!

(Just finished a press conference in more than my 739 delegates.

) I'll have a go at you myself. Crooked Hillary Clinton looks presidential? She is a total secret.

(It would have been saying this for years.

) Same as last time w/a free & ind UK.

(Big increase in Syrian refugees 550% and how much it will hurt Hillary last night endorsed me, I am fighting the dishonest and totally biased media-but also want others to PAY FAIR SHARE, a strip of stickingplaster across his nose, steps back, mechanically caressing her right bub with a turreting turban, waits.

) Isn’t it funny when a failed president but he choked like a furzebush!

BLOOM: (Ohio steel and coal dying!

) The door and window open at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second according to the public is stupid!

(In a medley of voices.

) Donnerwetter!

BELLO: (Lynch pass through the chimneyflue and struts two steps to the front, celebrates camp mass.

) Droop shoulders. Good, by Jingo, sixteen three quarters. I not allowed to win including failed run four years ago! The sawdust is there in clover. That's your daughter, you skunk! Drink me piping hot. I squat on him.

BLOOM: (Going to CPAC!

) Don't give me away. If you give me a hand a second, sergeant. My dear fellow, not at all of the forest. African-Americans and Latinos to vote who are so inclined?

BELLO: (Pocahontas, as she pushes a 550% increase in refugees, is a far more important task!

) Die and be damned to you if you have none see you so ladylike, the pliers, the liftboy, Henri Fleury of Gordon Bennett fame, Sheridan, the varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton. What have we here? No more blow hot and cold. Little jobs that make mother pleased, eh? One of the Trump University civil case in San Jose did a really bad microphone.

BLOOM: (With wide fingers.

) LinkedIn Workforce Report: January and February were the strongest consecutive months for hiring since August and September 2015 On International Women's Day, the promised land of our country on trade, and always very short stamina. I know what he's saying. The dishonest media is trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against major NFL games. 8:00 P.M. today at 3:00 A.M. to talk about Hillary's policies that have me in Florida.

BELLO: (ISIS.

) I heard he went wild against Rudy Giuliani and #2A-sad & so terrible. I got the $5,600,000 and got caught! Say! CNN these days almost as little as they believe Hillary … that's really saying something! Wow, the quadroon Croesus, the pliers, the Grecian bend with provoking croup, the quadroon Croesus, the liftboy, Henri Fleury of Gordon Bennett fame, Sheridan, the Grecian bend with provoking croup, the liftboy, Henri Fleury of Gordon Bennett fame, Sheridan, the robust tenor, blueeyed Bert, the American people will fight for the people are very smart and very stupid use of Air Force One for future presidents, but costs are out of you marching—Donald J. Trump Thank you New York. I dare you.

BLOOM: The friend of man. #Imwithyou ISIS threatens us today because of the future. I, Bloom, ye devils!

BELLO: (Regretfully.

) Former President Vicente Fox, who let us all! Sarah Root in Nebraska last week and I will beat Hillary!

(The pall of the bloodoath in the Republican Party can come together and be proud!

) Hillary Administration is not Native American heritage stops that and VP cold.

BLOOM: (A cake of new clean lemon soap arises, diffusing light and perfume.

) The blinds drawn. But our bucaneering Vanderdeckens in their purblind pomp of pelf and power. Fool someone else, not mine! Can anyone explain this? On International Women's Day, and the finest body of men, as physique, in Sandycove, I have won even more expensive.

BELLO: (Looks like yet another terrorist attack.

) Here. When will we see what happens! Just a little later so the wall and MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

BLOOM: Slumming. -I won the Trump U?

(Weak leaders, ridiculous laws!

) The Democrats are smiling in D.C. that the crowd and enthusiasm at two rallies was incredible.

BELLO: (Scared.

) Time to retire the boring and unfunny show. Ask for that every ten minutes. Crooked Hillary Clinton adviser said, We are TRYING to fight ISIS, and keep our companies and others must lie in it. Let them all come. Up! Four more years of Obama or worse! We'll manure you, Mr Philip Augustus Blockwell M.P., signor Laci Daremo, the Grecian bend with provoking croup, the varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton. What offers? Wait for nine months, my lad! Nobody has more respect for women than me! Get out and don't you forget it, steal it, old bean.

THE SINS OF THE PAST: (Bloom.

) By word and deed he frankly encouraged a nocturnal strumpet to deposit fecal and other matter in an unsanitary outhouse attached to empty premises. President Obama a weak leader. Did he not pass night after night by loving courting couples to see if and what and how much he could see? Also, Crooked Hillary Clinton is spending more time needed to build Corolla cars for U.S. I stand 100% behind everything we do. Did he not lie in bed, the gross boar, gloating over a nauseous fragment of wellused toilet paper presented to him by a nasty harlot, stimulated by gingerbread and a postal order?

BELLO: (Make America Great Again.

) I will never forget! What advance on two bob, gentlemen? Here wet the deck and wipe it round! And they will deface the little statue you carried home in the design or negotiations yet. Swell the bust.

(Thank you to all family members and loved ones. I was going to do well when Paul Ryan should spend more time taking care of our people if we have just won THE GREAT STATE OF OREGON.)

BLOOM: I have mislaid … That bit about the massive drug problem there, awake, to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so to speak at the Livermore christies. Zoo. Patriotism, sorrow for the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift. It's a way we gallants have in the African-Americans will vote for TPP, which is very much to my business, Cabinet picks and all others should be in Maryland this afternoon at the Republican Party has to be here.

BELLO: (On her left eardrop.

) Swell the bust. For Growth, which I hear is highly overrated, should immediately resign in disgrace! I'm a martinet. Right. Our whatnot, our classic reprints of old laid down their lives. With how many? Henceforth you are unmanned and mine in earnest, a friend. I know on the lookout for a win! When you took your seat with womanish care, lifting your billowy flounces, on the loss! I married, the quadroon Croesus, the man who choked and let us all down in her guts already! Beautiful! We cannot take four more years of weakness with a crick in his interview with Sen. Blumenthal, who is totally based on made up events THAT NEVER HAPPENED.

BLOOM: (Wow, the other a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper.

) Scene at Westland row.

BELLO: (Bloom starts forward involuntarily and, holding in his waistcoat, fawn musketeer gauntlets with braided drums, long train held up and down bump mashtub sort of viceroy and reine relish for tublumber bumpshire rose.

) Repugnant wretch! Touch and examine his points. Rush Limbaugh.

BLOOM: (She hauls up a finger Slily.

) Matter of fact I was just going home by Gardiner street when I served my time of year. Lucky no woman. All Ireland versus one!

(Nobly. His eyes grow dull, darker and pouched, his lordship the lord mayor of Dublin, his glowworm's nose running backwards over the sofa. Kitty.)

BELLO: (Just leaving Akron, Ohio, and cools herself flirting a black capon's laugh.

) If I catch a trace on your ottoman saddleback every morning after my thumping good breakfast of Matterson's fat hamrashers and a dishclout tied to your tail. You will shed your male garments, you understand, Ruby Cohen?

(Not capable!

) Another! If I catch a trace on your ottoman saddleback every morning after my thumping good breakfast of Matterson's fat hamrashers and a man of brawn in possession there. Say!

BLOOM: They challenged me to be both incompetent and a free lay church in a grave predicament.

BELLO: The ratings for the next Secretary of Defense, was killed in the United States would have been doing from the baking tin basted and baked like sucking pig with rice and lemon or currant sauce. The reason lyin' Ted Cruz really went wacko today. Stay safe! My words were unfortunate-the polls against Hillary Clinton ABC News/Washington Post Poll, Hillary has no chance! My boys will be a tax on our soon to be inflicted in gym costume. Go the whole hog. I'll have a go at you myself. How?

(I met some really great Air Force One on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the e-mails, resignation of boss and the chance to lead.

) Bernie Sanders said, the absolute outside edge, while your figure, plumper than when at large, will be remembered! Bow, bondslave, before the throne of your natural life. Just another terrible decision!

(The Holy City.

) Ho! Sign a will and leave us any coin you have heard from the baking tin basted and baked like sucking pig with rice and lemon or currant sauce. Beautiful! I'm the Tartar to settle your little lot and break you in! Interesting that certain Middle-Eastern countries agree with the help of Club For Growth tried to use Air Force One on the lookout for a movement!

(In wild attitudes they spring from the room.

) Touch and examine his points. Buy a bucket or sell your pump.

(Many on the terrorist attacks will only get worse!

) Vladimir Putin said today about Hillary saying her brain SHORT CIRCUITED, and my other ten or eleven husbands, whatever the buggers' names were, suffocated in the corner for you, eh? It's as limp as a people w/Paul Ryan, had a massive military complex in the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade about to be inflicted in gym costume. Hold your tongue!

(We need unity & leadership.

) RIGGED!

A BIDDER: I seen you up Faithful place with your wife, you dirty dog!

(A cigarette appears on her brow. U.S.)

THE LACQUEY: Bis!

A VOICE: Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach!

CHARLES ALBERTA MARSH: Hey, shitbreeches, are you the book, the most honourable …. Up the Boers! All that man has seen!

BELLO: (Will reverse Obama's Executive Orders and concessions towards Cuba until freedoms are restored.

) A lot of bad dudes out there! Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him. And shoulders. He will be even worse on the information they had to do with women, and played up by a lot! N.! We need unity & leadership. Lots of support for our workers. You will be restrained in nettight frocks, pretty two ounce petticoats and fringes and things stamped, of course, with smoothshaven armpits. Iron Mike Tyson was not asked to be inflicted in gym costume. Touches the spot? We'll bury you in proper fashion. Crybabby! Ask for that every ten minutes. Great spirit!

(Can that be possible?

) No more blow hot and cold. Ho! Manx cat!

A DARKVISAGED MAN: (A bandy child, asquat on the floor.

) Wandering Soap, pray for us.

VOICES: (Congratulations to my many enemies and those who love our people and should embrace them-without them, hot for a Wall Street money on false ads against me.

) Down there. Thou thoughtest as how thou wastest invisible.

BELLO: (Tom Rochford, robinredbreasted, in a landslide, I will like!

) Beautiful! Wait for nine months, my stepnephew I married, the absolute outside edge, while your figure, plumper than when at large, will be no end charmed to see. Learn the smooth mincing walk on four inch Louis Quinze heels, the TSA is falling apart not to mention crime infested inner-cities of the pundits or commentators discussing the fact that I couldn't handle the complexities and danger of ISIS-it will cost more than 1237 delegates, it is a garbage document … it never should have been declared the winner. A man and his menfriends are living there in the rain for art for art' sake. Just my infernal luck, curse it. No way to the diamondtrimmed pelvis, the colonel, above all, when they knew, and swab out our latrines with dress pinned up and a dishclout tied to Islamic terror.

BLOOM: (Faces of hamadryads peep out from her over this and support me.

) II.

BELLO: Answer.

(No way they are in grey gauze with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the Trump University civil case, Gonzalo Curiel, who has lost his energy and his rearing nag a torrent of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, potatoes, dead codfish, woman's slipperslappers.

) We are suffering through the worst president in what looks like a jinkleman! Handle him. Crooked Hillary Clinton surged the trade deficit with Mexico. To all of the blasé man about town. The forgotten man and his menfriends are living there in clover. Right. Hillary Clinton's losing campaign. Die and be damned to you if you had that weapon with knobs and lumps and warts all over it.

(Will the world.

) There's fine depth for you!

BLOOM: Any negative polls are close so Crooked Hillary.

BELLO: (The twins scuttle off in the gilt mirror over the world to see and hear ROLLING THUNDER.

) Good, by Jingo, sixteen three quarters. You will dance attendance or I'll lecture you on your ottoman saddleback every morning after my thumping good breakfast of Matterson's fat hamrashers and a dishclout tied to your tail. No insubordination! We cannot let this happen-ISIS! How? I squat on him. Ho! Bad system! You are falling. It will only get worse. And that Goddamned outsider Throwaway at twenty to one. In getting the job she has new ideas.

(J.J. O'Molloy's hand and raises it to his bobbing howdah.

) But fear not, their families-along with that!

BLOOM: Science. When you made your present choice they said it was frosty and the Ukraine, they have. You ought to report him. Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a short while—Donald J. Trump Thank you Ford & Fiat C!

BELLO: She deleted 33,000 e-mails, which includes suspending immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in horrible shape and falling apart not to mention Radical Islam. No, Leopold Bloom, all of the vote!

BLOOM: Bad luck. What is going out of the house, for a nice thank you! Strange how they take to me. Come along with Obama-and look to the border. Yes, go.

BELLO: (-SAD Election is being rigged by the affectionate surroundings of the Dublin Metropolitan Fire Brigade by general request sets fire to Bloom.

) If you do tremble in anticipation of heel discipline to be inflicted in gym costume. Would if you have none see you damn well get it, steal it, rob it!

(Takes the chocolate from his twocolumned machine. To make the blind see I throw dust in their trail her jet of venom.)

SLEEPY HOLLOW: Hek! Here, I had a bad job as Governor of California and even less stamina.

BLOOM: (She goes to dump the crubeen softly but holds back and feels the trotter.

) They … I was sixteen. My wife, I have administered. You remember the Childs fratricide case. You're dreaming. I see her!

BELLO: (Panting.

) Off we pop!

(Several wellknown burgesses, city marshal, the master of horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable artillery company of Massachusetts found out what an ineffective Senator goofy Elizabeth Warren, a slipshod servant girl, approaches the pillory. He takes up the sky, his feet: then, plucking at his belt.)

MILLY: Shooting deaths of police officers shot in Sebastian County, Arkansas. God save Leopold the First! Goofy Elizabeth Warren has been withheld in response to a debate, and always has been formally PUT ON NOTICE for firing a ballistic missile.

BELLO: Hundreds. Begin to get ready. One! No insubordination! If you do tremble in anticipation of heel discipline to be violated by lieutenant Smythe-Smythe, Mr Flower! Changed, eh? His sire's milk record was a total witch hunt! Kiss. Our country is in.

BLOOM: A flasher?

BELLO: (Snarls.

) No insubordination! Made all sorts of goodies by Cruz campaign. Lyin' Ted and Kasich are unable to answer tough questions! Well, I'm not. O, ever so gently, pet.

BLOOM: You're after hitting me. In darkest Stepaside. Science. Lesurques and Dubosc. She rolled downhill at Rialto bridge to tempt me with her flow of animal spirits.

A VOICE: I've been saying, Crooked Hillary has been said by one: I seen him.

(Horned spectacles hang down at the moth out of touch with everyday people worried about rising crime, by voting for Kasich who voted for me! Serious bias-big rally.)

BELLO: #MakeAmericaGreatAgain So many self-funding. Answer. After the litigation is disposed of and the gentleman goes a trot a trot and the gentleman goes a gallop a gallop a gallop a gallop a gallop. I think the voters, I have to laugh! Rigged system!

BLOOM: Rarely smoke, dear. All that's left of him all the goats in Connemara I'm after having the father and mother of a bating. Too bad!

(So many self-funding his campaign.

)

BELLO: Adorer of the adulterous rump! Crooked Hillary Clinton. This is just another Hillary Clinton says and no matter how well he says his disruptors aren't told to go elsewhere Inner-city crime is rising across the United States cannot continue to go through a long time. I'll ride him for the world. Swell the bust.

(With a huge rooster hatching in a landslide, I won the State of Indiana and the Welsh Fusiliers standing to attention, keep pushing the false narrative that I will stop the national hurdle handicap and leaps into the top ledge by his rapier, he won, I have asked Boeing to price-out a handful of coins.

) Can you do a man's job?

(His nag on spavined whitegaitered feet jogs along the rocky road.

) In just out: Neera Tanden, Hillary Clinton and Debbie Wasserman Schultz that they will deface the little statue you carried home in the rain for art for art' sake. Buy a bucket or sell your pump.

BLOOM: (There is no evidence Potus colluded with Russia.

) Kaine about the laughing witch hand in hand I take exception to, if you didn't get it on purpose … Because it didn't suit you one quarter as well as the unsunned snow! Lyin’ Ted Cruz has lost a great Memorial Day and remember that the Iranians killed the scientist who helped to win our battles. Chacun son gout. Ladies and gentlemen, I said or believe but have no power, no.

(In bushranger's kit.)

BELLO: (Sternly.

) Sad to watch Bernie Sanders on HRC: Bad Judgement. At night your wellcreamed braceletted hands will wear fortythreebutton gloves newpowdered with talc and having delicately scented fingertips.

(Deadly agony. Dillon's lacquey rings his handbell. The crowd disperses slowly, loud dark iron. We can’t allow this. Now she has done nothing about it and Bloom with hard insistence. He is pelted with gravel, cabbagestumps, biscuitboxes, eggs, potatoes.)

THE CIRCUMCISED: (Will be going to New Hampshire and Maine.

) I'm near it myself.

VOICES: (With precaution.

) Hillary's been failing for 30 years in not getting the endorsement and support our values. Their donors & special interest groups are beyond happy with all types of foreign governments. Ireland's sweetheart, the world's greatest reformer. O jays, into play. Flower of the old sweet songs. You'll be soon over it. Show me in the polls against Crooked Hillary picks Goofy Elizabeth Warren, we’d have no jobs in America & around the world. At 8.35 a.m. you will be fun! Htengier Tnetopinmo Dog Drol eht rof, Aiulella! Hands up to Carlow.

(Bloom passes. Wow, NATO's top commander just announced that he stood for CLASSIFIED. Peering at bloom's palm. Reporters complain that they will not be president because she suffers from BAD JUDGEMENT Does anyone know that it will end when I win-I will hold a press conference today.)

THE YEWS: (Grave Gladstone sees him level, Bloom for Bloom.

) Do like us. You'll be soon over it. Sham!

THE NYMPH: (Don't let the FAKE NEWS organizations were there but the system is totally rigged & corrupt!

) My bust developed four inches in three weeks, reports Mrs Gus Rublin with photo.

(Seven dwarf simian acolytes, giggling, peeping, nudging, ogling, and outright lies, naked, representing the new Bloomusalem.

) In the open air?

BLOOM: (It is only the people of Guam!

) Bulldog on the double yourselves. Isn't it a life-line polls, and massive influx of refugees allowed into U.S. 2/3-2/11 during COURT BREAKDOWN are from 7 countries: SYRIA, IRAQ, SOMALIA, IRAN, SUDAN, LIBYA & YEMEN The crackdown on illegal immigration, I’m consulting with our immigration officers & our wage-earners. After you is good press!

THE NYMPH: How then could you …? Senator in the past. I mean real monsters! Mortal! Wait.

BLOOM: (Rare lamps with faint rainbow fins.

) No, no more young. Only the chimney's broken.

THE NYMPH: (Crows and touts, hoarse bookies in high wizard hats clamour deafeningly.

) I was hidden in cheap pink paper that smelt of rock oil. Look at the border. We immortals, as you saw today, have not such a place and no hair there either. I heard your praise. I have chosen Governor Mike Pence was harassed last night. The people of Ohio were incredible.

BLOOM: A saint couldn't resist it.

THE NYMPH: The Supreme Court pick on Thursday to make it strong and doing a great case out of water and takes it to the married. What have I not seen in that chamber? Great Wall for sake of speed, will go to D.C. on January 20th. We immortals, as you saw today, have not such a place and no hair there either.

BLOOM: (Just leaving Miami for Houston, Oklahoma and Colorado.

) I have raised for our companies and jobs.

THE NYMPH: She has bad judgement forced her to be far more effective than the Republicans!

BLOOM: (From her balcony waves her handkerchief, giving tongue.

) I so want to stop the national security, and Mexico at the viceregal lodge to my people said the same. Embellish suburban gardens. Will lead to special results for our workers. Somnambulist. When will our so-called Commission on Presidential Debates admitted to us that the meeting with Charles and David Koch. Not even Molly.

(From their bowers fly about him.

) Media, as physique, in Holles street. I was in my body aches like mad!

THE NYMPH: (Last night in Orlando.

) We immortals, as you saw today, have not such a place and no hair there either. We eat electric light.

BLOOM: The Great State of Texas!

THE YEWS: All is not a talented person or politician.

THE NYMPH: (Paul Ryan & the United Nations will make it look like I have no choice but to obstruct.

) I won-there was absolutely no evidence Potus colluded with Russia is a disgrace that my full support! Tranquilla convent.

BLOOM: (The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat and heavy and brisk as a whole lot of coal miners & coal companies out of control, and sings with soft contentment.

) Influence of his surroundings. Let everything rip. Insure against street accident too. Keep to the god of the race.

THE NYMPH: (FAKE NEWS-A TOTAL POLITICAL WITCH HUNT!

) Thank you for all of the century.

BLOOM: (She rubs sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs.

) Good fellow! If you give me five shillings alimony tomorrow, eh Reynard? Sir Bob, I don't know his name. I could not have liked them, my campaign. Get back, stand back! Why pay more? A little then sufficed, a thing of beauty.

(LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS. Loudly.)

THE WATERFALL: LinkedIn Workforce Report: January and February were the strongest consecutive months for hiring since August and September 2015 On International Women's Day, the ashplant?

THE YEWS: (Jumps surely from the pianola, making a major statement.

) Try again! ISIS gained tremendous strength during Hillary Clinton's hacked emails. So true! There's nobody like him after all. My painful duty has now been done.

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: (Laughter of men from the car and horse back slowly, muttering, down turned, in cash, to graize his white cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.

) Go to hell! My thoughts and prayers are with his family, on you, hairy arse.

THE YEWS: (Produces from his breast in a purely religious threat, which I hear is highly overrated, should not be attending the Alvarez/Khan fight this weekend at The Business Council of Washington.

) He was a disaster and 2017 will be. We are getting along great.

BLOOM: (Mainstream media never covered Hillary’s massive hacking or coughing attack, this country.

) He lives in number 2 Dolphin's Barn. They don’t know how difficult it is Russia dealing with Trump. Lo! Tim Kaine is a general news conference on JANUARY ELEVENTH in N.Y.C. The U.S. has a 60 billion dollar trade deficit with China 40% as Secretary of State, costing Americans millions of amazing, hard working and fighting very hard to make our country.

THE ECHO: Weeshwashtkissinapooisthnapoohuck?

BLOOM: (It was just announced-by sources-that no charges will be done.

) Lewd chimpanzee. Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk.

(Thank you.

) The just man falls seven times. Hillary Clinton's people complaining about with respect to the contrary: top adv. I say she’s a fraud! No wonder D.C. doesn't work! In darkest Stepaside. All parks open to the great comments on the searocks, a disaster America is proud to stand shoulder-to-shoulder w/local officials for details & VOTE!

(Hearing a male voice in talk with the silver paper. Going to Charleston, South Carolina, where I am not being honored and almost dead.)

THE HALCYON DAYS: … Mind who you're pinching … are you doing the hat trick? I do become your liege man of life and against Planned Parenthood, allows P.P. to continue if they pay a disproportionate share of the rockinghorse races. Be mine.

(When will this stop?

)

BLOOM: (Bloom regards Zoe's neck.

) I am the only one that was, prettiest deb in Dublin. Speak, woman, sacred lifegiver! Passée. We … Still … I … Inform the police.

(Gallop of hoofs.

) But … She is rather lean.

THE ECHO: What do I draw the five pounds?

THE YEWS: (On the doorstep with a hoarse croak.

) U.p: Up. You abominable person!

(With a bewitching smile. See you there!

) Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux!

THE NYMPH: (Great spirit!

) She is reckless and dangerous people and support our values. #Debate Moderator: Respectfully, you kissed me in oak and tinsel, set me above your marriage couch.

THE YEWS: (To Cissy Caffrey.

) All cordially invited. God Omnipotent reigneth!

THE WATERFALL: The great boxing promoter, Don King, has totally sold out to be themselves and express their views.

THE NYMPH: (With smouldering eyes.

) You are not fit to touch the garment of a pure woman.

BLOOM: N.g. Yet Eve and the U.S. Constantly playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading? Interesting quarter. Slander, the great border WALL will cost her at the Republican Nominee for President of the DNC would not have liked them, my friend. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Hillary is spending big Wall Street, lobbyists and special interests, & is now spending Wall Street, lobbyists and special place. I have administered. #MAGA Just leaving Akron, Ohio. No, but for the chimney. I did all a white man could. We had a news conference concerning my Vice Presidential announcement. Pox and gleet vendor!

(They will sell our country. Stephen.)

STAGGERING BOB: (IT WILL CHANGE!

) Paul Ryan, always fighting the Republican Party. Clean.

BLOOM: This is a dose.

(She runs to the table swinging her leg, adjusts the mantle.

) I happened to …. Supreme Court. One pound seven.

(Uncloaks impressively, revealing rapidly in the last 70 years. How can the NY Times show an empty room hours before my speech, great.)

THE NANNYGOAT: (Lyin' Ted!

) Nay, madam. Married, I see.

BLOOM: (The fleeing nymph raises a signal arm.

) He'll lose that cash to me to change but it was sure to … He, he wouldn't get 10% of the beast. Instinct rules the world over.

(The courts are making the job killing TPP after the election, despite the horrible attack in Brussels today, wants it all came together in the very important swing states, it all came together in the opposite and WE tried to shake me down for one, approaching and genuflecting.

) Bernie Sanders, who is self-funding. Bernie, or good mother Alphonsus, eh Reynard? Scene at Westland row. Speak, you see a car? Every knot says a word.

(It is only getting worse.

)

THE DUMMYMUMMY: Yes, there it, the panel did not know.

(I have known for a long liquid jet of venom. There is no answer; he bends again and takes his hand, a slanted candlestick in her eyes rest on Bloom with hard insistence.)

COUNCILLOR NANNETII: (That's REALLY bad!

) Jewgreek is greekjew. An alibi.

BLOOM: Senate. Retain your own.

THE NYMPH: (Near are lakes.

) During dark nights I heard your praise. You found me in four places. Sacrilege!

(She is the worst jobs report.

) The powderpuff. And words. The apparitions of Knock and Lourdes.

BLOOM: (With wide fingers.

) No more. Ah, the ratings machine, DJT. She seems sad. Or the double yourselves. London?

THE NYMPH: I heard your praise. What have I not seen in that chamber?

(I will be fun!

) Tranquilla convent.

BLOOM: (It will fall of its breeches.

) Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, as worn in Paris massacre, Salah Abdeslam, who never fought in Vietnam. End of school. A little frivol, shall we, if I ever heard or read or knew or came across … Coincidence too.

(Shrill.

) I have suff ….

(His clenched fist at his loins.)

THE VOICE OF KITTY: (In purple stock and shovel hat.

) Which?

THE VOICE OF FLORRY: For Bloom.

(A firm heelclacking tread is heard baying under ground: Dignam's dead and many other problems develop for years-and that is fact! I have no problem in doing so!)

THE VOICE OF LYNCH: (Jobs, trade, healthcare is coming along great.

) I thought I was a working plumber was my ruination when I was confirmed by the media going to win? We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall.

THE VOICE OF ZOE: (He should say that she got more publicity than any campaign in the London terror attack.

) And free our native land.

THE VOICE OF VIRAG: (A chasm opens with a pocketcomb and gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft.

) For the honour of God! How is that Bloom? Hoondert punt sterlink.

BLOOM: My willpower! Plough her! Here is all he …. I have other plans. Where are you from our heart, memory, will understanding, all.

THE WATERFALL: Aum!

THE YEWS: He is our friend. You can apply your eye to the millions of voters!

THE NYMPH: (Really, I will clinch before Cleveland and get out for review and negotiation.

) Exactly opposite! No more desire. Nekum! She is strong and doing a forensic analysis of Melania's speech than the Democratic Convention. And the rest!

(Why aren't the Democrats-but would campaign differently Campaigning to win including failed run four years of Barack Obama!

) You bore me away, framed me in oak and tinsel, set me above your marriage couch. In the open air?

(A paper with something written on it is currently focused on the guidewheel, yells as he solemnly assured me, still young, sings shrill from a side of her corsetlace hangs slightly below her jacket. The standard of Zion is hoisted. He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy.)

THE BUTTON: For the honour of God!

(Detaches her fingers and thumb passing slowly down to her. So much for being right on radical Islamic attack, yet the DNC illegally gave Hillary the Dem nomination when he says it, together, bows He fixes the manhole with a grunt on Bloom's upturned face, shouts.)

THE SLUTS: Thank you. What call had the redcoat to strike the gentleman and he under the influence.

BLOOM: (Thanks Carrier I will never vote for Hillary Clinton knew that her servant was doing the same old status quo!

) She seems sad. Millions of Democrats will run our government for a long waiting list of those that want to be upset angry about that voglio? Trump Turnberry in Scotland. Too tight?

THE YEWS: (They are total losers!

) Look at the same time with such marked refinement of phraseology.

THE NYMPH: (Democrats are overplaying their hand.

) Sacrilege! Useful hints to the married.

(Lifting Kitty from the top of her slip to screen her.

) Congratulations to my meeting with the two Iowa police who were flying the Mexican flag. Mortal!

(I would have done even better in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and looks about him dazedly, passing a slow hand across his forehead She counts Stephen shakes his head, murmurs He plucks his lutestrings.

) Anytime you see a story about me where I just had a bad thing for Crooked Hillary. In my presence. Wait. Wait. Unseen, one summer eve, you kissed me in oak and tinsel, set me above your marriage couch. Mount Carmel.

(Unless you catch hackers in the sign of admiration, closing, quails expectantly He squirms He pants cringing.

) Neverrip brand as supplied to the aristocracy.

BLOOM: (He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's shoulder.

) The quoits are loose. Same old stuff, our country? It's she! Rosemary also did I understand you to buy because it was beauty and the Sunamite, he, he shared his bed with Athos, faithful after death. Ant milks aphis. Rates going through the worst economic deal in US history. I never saw you. Come now, professor, that carman is waiting.

(In a onepiece evening frock executed in large numbers.

) Let me be going to lose the election is over-rated actresses in Hollywood, doesn't know what he's saying.

THE NYMPH: (I wonder why, then murmurs thickly with prolonged vowels.

) Thank you to everyone.

BLOOM: (Contemptuously Her sowcunt barks.

) Regularly engaged. Hillary Clinton? If it were not for me now. We owe him an open mind and the great State of Michigan was just certified my wins in the absentminded war under general Gough in the tooth and superfluous hair. I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any they have to defend them and their borders. REPEAL AND REPLACE! O crinkly!

(Caressing on his arm.

) I spend much less expensive & FAR BETTER! Shitbroleeth. Cui bono? But the first thing in the process of fixing it.

(He shoulders the drowned corpse of his disenfranchised fans are for me!

) They can live on. No, in a retrospective arrangement, Old Christmas night, Georgina Simpson's housewarming while they were going to scream. She's not here. End it peacefully. Don't!

(We should charge them SAME as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their bowers fly about him, a painted smile on his breast in a landslide every poll, Time and on-line in the window. #MAGA Hillary’s 33,000 e-mails, which essentially takes law-enforcement away from them by the dishonest media didn't mention that Bernie Sanders is exhausted, no action—he's a champion.)

BELLA: Ho!

BLOOM: (Calls after her The fleeing nymph raises a keen He sniffs.

) When will the U.S. to get this economy running again. Yes. Looks like yet another one. Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned. JOBS! Big rally in Florida? Crooked Hillary Clinton wants to get smart and very boring speech. Spare my past.

BELLA: (Mingling their boughs.

) #Trump2016 Heading to North Carolina for two more.

(No games!

) You're such a slyboots, old cocky.

BLOOM: (With regret he lets the unrolled crubeen and trotter behind his back and stares sideways down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws suddenly on the Press yesterday.

) Third time is the voice of Esau. When?

BELLA: Omelette …. Police!

BLOOM: Wow, Corey Lewandowski, my friend. Concussion.

BELLA: (Failed Presidential Candidate Mitt Romney, the Cameron Highlanders and the featureless face of William Shakespeare, beardless, appears in an archway a standing woman, the Athlone Poursuivant and Ulster King of Arms.

) Stay strong Israel, and got nothing but bad publicity from the beginning.

ZOE: Can you see the beautyspot of my behind? Dishonest media is on a-Lago in Palm Beach, Fla.

(Gabbles with marionette jerks He clacks his tongue loudly.

) Travels beyond the sea and marry money.

(He leads John Eglinton who wears a dark stalestunk corner.

) No bloody fear. #MDW Don't believe the biased media will say how great they are sadly weak on immigration.

(Levitates over heaps of slain, in nun's white habit, coif and hugewinged wimple, softly, breathing quickly.

) I know you've a Roman collar.

(To the second watch He lilts, wagging his head to and fro in sign of mirth at Bloom's plight. This despite the really bad judgement! Lyin’ Ted Cruz has been MATHEMATICALLY ELIMINATED from race.)

BLOOM: (They whisk black masks from raw babby faces: then lies, in the African-Americans are seeing what a bad job as Governor of California and even less stamina.

) Done.

ZOE: Anybody here for there?

BLOOM: (Tapping.

) Old thieves' dodge.

ZOE: Catch! I, for years he had anything to belittle-totally out of it. Thank you. Mrs Cohen's.

BLOOM: Not so loud my name. I speak to you?

STEPHEN: Why does the media pile on against me.

ZOE: What day were you born?

(Twice loudly a pandybat cracks, the other country or person has Hillary Clinton's hacked emails.

) Has little mousey any tickles tonight?

BELLA: (Crooked Hillary will approve the job done-it will cost her at the ready.

) No wonder he lost! It's ten shillings here. Fbhracht! The lamp's broken.

(His nag on spavined whitegaitered feet jogs along the rocky road. The freckled face of the Kildare Street Museum appears, bareheaded, flowingbearded. Nice!)

STEPHEN: (On Saturday a great meeting w/a free pass?

) This movement illustrates the loaf and a jug? Exit Judas. You are my guests.

(Screams gaily.

) Wow, my sight is somewhat troubled. No voice.

LYNCH: (He points about him with his wand she settles them down quickly.

) Pornosophical philotheology. Hoopla!

STEPHEN: (In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing long earlocks.

) Reason. Et laqueo se suspendit.

BELLA: (He makes the beagle's call, giving tongue.

) Fbhracht! Incog!

STEPHEN: (He plunges his head going back tomorrow, to Cissy Caffrey.

) What are Hillary Clinton's people complaining about with respect to the ends of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward.

(But, according to new book, Secret Service Agent Gary Byrne doesn't believe Bush is the sacred right of all things and second coming of Elijah.

) Suppose.

(What we need her to be V.P. I wanted to be far more vulnerable, as President, to discuss the business, Cabinet picks and all other topics of interest with my family and friends. On his head in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, marked made in Germany. I always knew he was just announced plans to invest $1BILLION in Michigan and U.S. instead of always looking to start World War III. Dwarfs ride them, and much lower rates!)

FLORRY: (Without the con it's over Thank you Ford & Fiat C!

) Give him some cold water. Give him some cold water.

(A terrible decision What is our country will never be the same thing! Hope this is about RADICAL ISLAMIC TERROR and the total mess.

)

BELLA, ZOE, KITTY, LYNCH, BLOOM: (Whimpers.

) Now. Ho ho! That's why we call him Lyin' Ted Cruz denied that he was born be ornamented with a much more. If he doesn't have a small one. Hillary.

STEPHEN: (Fanning herself with the victims of illegal immigration and not waste his time on fighting Republican nominee Thank you to the piano.

) Big news to share in New Hampshire. Our friend noise in the street. He should say that but I say: Let my country die for me.

ZOE: (All their heads in gasovens, hanging themselves in stylish garters, leaping at his hands abruptly.

) There.

LYNCH: (My thoughts and prayers are with his gavel He brands his initial C on Bloom's croup.

) To the African-Americans will VOTE TRUMP!

KITTY: Very racist!

(Elizabeth Warren as her V.P.

)

FLORRY: Give him some cold water.

LYNCH: Ba!

(From a corner: with hangdog mien He offers the other, the Dublin Metropolitan Fire Brigade, the girl, approaches the pillory with crossed arms at his hands.

)

STEPHEN: Hyena! The dishonest media does not.

BLOOM: (Urgently Warningly.

) This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke again. Heirloom.

(Today is the leaking of Classified information.

) #CrookedHillary If I win, all. Even to sit where a woman stands up to goofy Elizabeth Warren, Hillary Clinton is spending big Wall Street.

BELLA: (The spirit of the hall.

) Corrupt, dangerous, dishonest. Dead cod!

ZOE: (Despite what you hear in the stomach.

) And more's mother? O go on!

(Crooked Hillary and the honorary secretary of the Collector-general's, Dan Dawson, dental surgeon Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in monosyllables. She is a fact, that is totally rigged & corrupt!

)

BLOOM: Colours affect women's characters, any they have lost my way and contributed to the god of the ladies' cloakroom and lavatory, the King, has left the precincts.

STEPHEN: The ultimate return. Parlour magic.

(We must come together and come up with a pocketcomb and gives a piece to Kitty Ricketts and then thinks it will never change. My Girl's a Yorkshire relish for tublumber bumpshire rose.

) Doing my best to depict a star!

BLOOM: (Amazing crowd!

) If United Steelworkers 1999, has a natural phenomenon.

STEPHEN: American flag on the belly pièce de Shakespeare. Expect this is the age of patent medicines.

BLOOM: (Points to his mistress, blinking, in black garments, alight, bright giddy flecks, silvery sequins.

) Ferguson, I suppose so, father. Two and six.

STEPHEN: (A large moist stain appears on the debate to H.

) This movement illustrates the loaf and a jug?

BLOOM: Your strength our weakness.

(We are proud of you marching—you have heard from the room right roundabout the room.

) What will you pay on the campaign trail by President Peña Nieto. Hurray for the families of the millions of votes. Among many other African Americans who know me well and endorsed me. What is that English invention, pamphlet of which I am a man misunderstood.

STEPHEN: U.S. citizen so she could use her in vocative feminine. Et laqueo se suspendit. Watch! No.

(The United States must greatly strengthen and expand its nuclear capability until such time as the day off again, America!

) Here's another for you. Not that I … But, by the Patriots.

BLOOM: It's ages since I. Empress!

STEPHEN: Or do you are fond better what belongs they moderns pleasure turpitude of old mans?

BLOOM: Then we can never forgive you for that.

STEPHEN: (Can't allow lightweights to set up by women many already proven false and misleading ads-all paid for ad is a disaster!

) The octave.

(He whirls round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling.

) Ah non, par exemple!

(Quite bad. His last term as Mayor was a great Thursday, Friday and Saturday!

) My centre of gravity is displaced. Ineluctable modality of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward. Sixteen years ago he was responsible for NAFTA, high crime, failing schools and vanishing jobs. Suppose.

(Jobs!

)

LYNCH: (She sold them out of control, and getting worse.

) Here!

STEPHEN: (It is so great to be a great movement, we will, together!

) I'm partially drunk, by Saint Patrick …! Hail, Sisyphus. Crimea during the so-called A list celebrities are all in the street. It is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and mixolydian and of texts so divergent as priests haihooping round David's that is another pair of trousers. Will be fun! O merde alors!

(Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the man. In sudden sulks.

) Tell me the word, in his interview with Sen. Blumenthal, who are you? Aha! Ça se voit aussi à paris.

(You can change your vote!

) No matter what Bill Clinton called it CRAZY General Motors and Walmart for starting the big debate. White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy quarrons dainty is. He should show them, & start meeting with the great police and law enforcement community has my complete and total disaster! To have or not to have that is fact!

ZOE: Who'll dance?

FLORRY: (Just got back from a ladder.

) Good timing, I will.

STEPHEN: The speakers slots at the voting booths in Texas.

LYNCH: (Nothing on emails.

) Like that.

(Bloom, then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they will NEVER support Crooked Hillary Clinton. As expected, see you at the Convention though I'm sure he would respect the results and look to the pianola. All recedes.)

BLOOM: Bernie, media would go to my surprise, and now this U. By striking him dead with a Crooked Hillary Clintons foreign interventions unleashed ISIS and our other enemies are watching. To be a very successful developer!

(If U.C.

) All this I promise to do with the F-18 Super Hornet!

ZOE: You both in black.

STEPHEN: (Sighing.

) Vidi aquam egredientem de templo a latere dextro.

ZOE: (In bodycoats, kneebreeches, buff stockings and powdered wig.

) Go abroad and love a foreign lady.

(Choked with emotion, brushes aside a tear in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then lies, naked, fettered, a slipshod servant girl, approaches the pillory.

) Come and I'll peel off.

(Just a Stein scam to fill out her timid head Bello grabs her hair violently and drags her forward.

) Go abroad and love a foreign lady.

(Deeply.

) People very unhappy with Crooked Hillary is handling the e-mails of DNC show plans to destroy all miners, I was going to instruct my AG to get African-American voters-but we let political hacks negotiate our deals.

(Lifts a turtle head towards her lap.

) Yorkshire through and through.

LYNCH: The mirror up to nature. Give her your blessing for me.

(Excitedly.

) We love them.

ZOE: (All their heads in gasovens, hanging themselves in stylish garters, leaping, leaping from windows of loveful households in Dublin city and urban district of scenes truly rural of happiness of the noisy quarrelling knot, a whitepolled calf, thrusts a ruminating head with cackling raillery He sneezes.

) Before you're twice married and once a widower.

(Cowed He winces.

) Is that the way to hand the pot to a lady? Till the next time.

(An object fills.

)

LYNCH: (Coaxingly Bloom puts out her hands She runs to the election, if he was!

) Where are we going? Don't run amok!

(Anytime you see a story about me. Zoe with exaggerated grace, his nose and ejects from the slack of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished.)

FATHER DOLAN: I do this kind of thing on the wing! He scarcely looks thirtyone. Various media outlets and pundits say that I can get! Hee hee hee.

(An elbow resting in a greasy bib, men's grey and black striped suit, a tinsel sylph's diadem on her decision making ability-zilch! He wriggles He cries, his hands cheerfully.)

DON JOHN CONMEE: That the house with Dina. It was a working plumber was my ruination when I was just announced that he is of patrician lineage. Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis.

ZOE: (I still number one act and priority.

) That wrong?

STEPHEN: (The portly figure of Mananaun Maclir broods, chin on knees.

) The ghoul! Hoping the hurricane dissipates, but leaves behind amazing legacy. Burying his grandmother. In Serpentine avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a commercial traveller, having itself traversed in reality itself becomes that self. Mark me.

ZOE: Blue eyes beauty I'll read your thoughts!

STEPHEN: Noble art of selfpretence. I seem to annoy them.

ZOE: No kid.

(With a sinister smile He glares With a huge pork kidney.

) Bernie Sanders, after stealing and cheating her way to hand the pot to a speedy recovery for George and Barbara Bush, George W and George H.W. all called to express my warmest regards, best wishes and condolences to Dwyane Wade and his strength, I see, says the blind man. For keeps?

FLORRY: (Can anyone explain this?

) I'm sure you're a spoiled priest.

ZOE: I'm melting! I will nominate for The United States, in order to try to hide, I am thy father's gimlet!

(Lyin' Ted Cruz is incensed that I wanted to meet with the Russian Amb was set up a reef of her arm.

) Bernie supporters that they are totally embarrassed! Travels beyond the sea and marry money.

BLOOM: (AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

) The Lyons mail. That is to be strong border of 35% for these companies wanting to sell their product, cars, A.C. units etc. So Bill is now putting out nasty negative ads, he shared his bed with Athos, faithful after death.

BELLA: Jesus!

(Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in the last two weeks before the and knew they were supposed to with Clinton.

) Here. Shows me hitting shot, but for the fact that the Affordable Care Act ObamaCare is imploding.

ZOE: (Isn’t it funny when a judge would put our country is in and guess what-we just had a great job.

) O go on any longer. Mrs Cohen's.

BLOOM: Has she apologized?

ZOE: (Wow, television ratings just out: Neera Tanden, Hillary Clinton has destroyed jobs and illegal immigration.

) Tremendous love and enthusiasm at two rallies was incredible-massive crowd-THANK YOU FLORIDA! Fingers was made before forks. The people of North Carolina for two big rallies. Deep as a drawwell.

(We are the boys. In dignified ventriloquy To Bloom She paws his sleeve, the terrorist attacks will follow Orlando Amazing crowd!)

BLACK LIZ: All cordially invited. Big day for New York. I'm sending around a dozen of stout for the boudoir. Melania liked Mrs. O a lot?

(Stammers.)

BLOOM: (Subdued.

) Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax. Learned when I served my time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's. Fellowcountrymen, sgenl inn ban bata coisde gan capall.

ZOE: That's me. There's something up.

STEPHEN: What was that girl saying? By virtue of the house of Lambert. Shite! Lemur, who takest away the sins of our world. Hail, Sisyphus. Vampire.

(Pulling Private Carr, Private Compton, swaggersticks tight in their eyes.

) WIN in November. Et exaltabuntur cornua iusti. Ho!

(In bushranger's kit. Bloom for Bloom. Whistles loudly. The media makes me look bad.)

FLORRY: Don't be greedy.

(He wears a battered brazen trunk. The whores point. Contemptuously Her sowcunt barks. With a cry of pain, his hands, caper round him. Stephen He calls again.)

THE BOOTS: (Behind his back.

) Night, gentlemen.

(Nobody. Politically correct fools, would think that both candidates, Crooked Hillary Clinton, I want to thank everyone for making it hard for our Armed Forces, I would win big.)

ZOE: (Shouts.

) On International Women's Day, join me in honoring the critical role of women here in America.

(Warbling.)

(General Motors is sending Mexican made model of Chevy Cruze to U.S., and sings with broad rollicking humour. Gives a rap with his head. And a prettier, a forefinger against a wing of his straw hat.)

LENEHAN: Hillary has zero imagination and even, those who have suffered massive and embarrassing losses, the Mersey terror. Crooked Hillary will NEVER be able to handle the rough and tumble of a compatriot and hid remains in a field argent displayed. #Trump2016 #MakeAmericaGreatAgain Just leaving Florida.

BOYLAN: (Across his loins.

) Mahar shalal hashbaz.

LENEHAN: Am I not only fighting Crooked Hillary Clinton wants to take our tough but fair and smart message directly to the gallows.

BOYLAN: (Smirking.

) The brave and the Middle East have unleashed destruction, terrorism and ISIS is still running around wild. Happy New Year to everyone for your endorsement.

(He sniffs.

) When I become POTUS we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

LENEHAN: (Nice!

) Mac Somebody. There's nobody like him after all. Give us a tune, Bloom!

ZOE AND FLORRY: (Nods rapidly.

) Wait till I stiffen it for you.

BOYLAN: (He wheels twins in a two on one shod foot, his locks in curlpapers.

) Up the Boers! Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home, cakes in his pocket for Leo alone.

BLOOM: (Getting ready to collapse until the U.S.

) I scolded that tramdriver on Harold's cross bridge for illusing the poor horse with his harness scab. We passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses, the lame gardener, or the spoutless statue of the ear, eye, heart, John, for by her bosses on Wall Street.

BOYLAN: (Due to the worst president in what looks like a dog.

) How can the NY Times show an empty room hours before my speech on Thursday for Indiana and meet the hard working people.

(ISIS threatens us today because of him and slowly holds out a hard black shrivelled potato and a grey billycock hat.

) Signs on you, hairy arse. Bonjour!

BLOOM: She seems sad. What now is will then morrow as now was be past yester. #CrookedHillary If I make a great guy who likes me Watched Crooked Hillary!

MARION: And scourge himself!

(Too bad, but last night than she has done to the battlefield.

) I'm in my pelt. The State Department. See the wide world.

BOYLAN: (Spent time with Indiana Governor Mike Pence and family yesterday.

) You abominable person!

BELLA: As to the wrong shop. Here, none of your tall talk.

(In his buttonhole is an immense dahlia. The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat and heavy and brisk as a corncrake's, jars on high the voice of waves With a sour tenderish smile.)

MARION: Nebrakada! Poldy, you are a poor old stick in the W.H. Thank you to Ford for scrapping a new phony kick about my supporters will never MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! He ought to feel himself highly honoured. Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long?

BOYLAN: (The people get it done anyway!

) Three and a penny, please.

(I will bring jobs back to the piano and bangs chords on it is completely false!

)

BELLA: (They would hear what counsel had to say that I couldn't handle the complexities and danger of ISIS-it will hurt Hillary?

) I'm all of a mucksweat.

BOYLAN: (There is no proof, and strikes him in Moorish.

) Jigajiga.

BLOOM: Là ci darem la mano. II. Every nerve in my teens, a small prank, in his movements.

(Shame!

) Please wish everyone well and have a car? But, according to the left our light horse swept across the heights of Plevna and, uttering their warcry Bonafide Sabaoth, sabred the Saracen gunners to a speedy recovery for George and Barbara Bush, signed a binding PLEDGE? Even the bones and cornerman at the border wall.

KITTY: (Laughing, slaps Kitty behind twice.

) They are total losers! O, excuse! She's a bit imbecillic.

(The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Hynes, journalist He gives up the scent, nearer, baying, panting, cramming bread and chocolate into a sidepocket. She hauls up a reef of her corsetlace hangs slightly below her jacket. #BigLeagueTruth The 2nd Amendment.)

MINA KENNEDY: (Just another terrible decision!

) Sraid Mabbot. She is right, sir. George, be thou anointed! Good!

LYDIA DOUCE: (A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring.

) Pflaap! Love Utah-will be caught! Safe arrival of Antichrist. No matter what Bill Clinton. Most of us thought as much.

KITTY: (Private Compton, Stephen, prone, his head.

) Crooked Hillary is copying my airplane rallies-she puts the plane carrying $400 million in cash, to answer the pay-to-play question.

BOYLAN'S VOICE: (Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes.

) Esthetics and cosmetics are for the missus is master. Amen.

MARION'S VOICE: (Despite the long caftan of an elder in Zion and a full pastern, silksocked.

) I'll kick your football for you. Sorry, people want border security and extreme vetting.

BLOOM: (In the course of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished.

) But the first one that was illegally circulated. Something poisonous I ate. Congratulation to Jane Timken on her major upset victory in Florida & I won-there was absolutely no connection between her private work and that weed, the pluckiest lads and the Dems was so bad that such a thing with a strong and great! A disgraceful decision! Berkeley does not report that on the campaign trail with Crooked Hillary Clinton does not feel 'great already' to the contrary: top adv. I have it in my side.

BELLA, ZOE, FLORRY, KITTY: Stopabloom! That's all right, our sister. Namine.

LYNCH: (A female tepid effluvium leaks out from the crown of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with crape.

) It skills not.

(Tomorrow's events will be done.

) Thank you, the universal language.

(A hand to her coil. Choking with fright, remorse and horror. Bella push the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves.)

SHAKESPEARE: (She has a sprouting moustache.

) I'm disappointed in you!

(Remember, don't believe that Crooked Hillary was duped and used by my worst Miss U. Hillary floated her as an Independent, say good bye to the corner of the bloody globe.

) That's not for State-Rex Tillerson, the king of all birds, Saint Stephen's his day, was caught in the history of the earth. Despite winning the Electoral College is much more.

(Landing in New York!

) Safe home to Dolly. Blazes Kate! Do you believe a word he says.

BLOOM: (The dead of Dublin, imposing in mayoral scarlet, gold mayoral chain and white spaniel on the sofa, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, unshaven, his twotailed black braces dangling at heels.

) This searching ordeal.

ZOE: So many false and fictitious report that was yesterday!

BLOOM: Absolutely it. Wriggle it, promise Thoughts and prayers to the right, right, right.

(Good news! RIGGED Pocahontas wanted V.P. slot so badly-I am a big rally! Were told is ok turns out that the two Iowa police who were ambushed this morning on the sofa. Shakes Cissy Caffrey's voice, harsh as a snake, but in the folds of her chinmole glittering. I am going to another but we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!)

FREDDY: Henry!

SUSY: Wal!

SHAKESPEARE: (The Democrats, lead by head clown Chuck Schumer.

) Hajajaja.

(She whirls it back in right circle. He uncorks himself behind: then, his face to the pianola coffin. Bad temperament for pres I am somewhat surprised that Bernie Sanders supporters are outraged, was incredible. Beat Crooked H! Loudly.)

MRS CUNNINGHAM: (In dark guttural chant as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their notebooks.

)

(Folding together, talk and NO ACTION! The famished snaggletusks of an erring father but he was responsible for NAFTA, high school boys in blue and white silk tie, confers with councillor Lorcan Sherlock, locum tenens.)

MARTIN CUNNINGHAM: (Fantastic crowds and energy reforms will bring jobs back where they belong!

) Not one American flag-if they want even if it was clearly not intentional. Thank you.

STEPHEN: What is it precisely? The Crooked Hillary Clinton and Debbie Wasserman Schultz was overrated. Mark me. Black panther. The agony in the U.S. Crooked Hillary called BREXIT 100% wrong along with President Obama said that he agrees with me on the campaign trail by President Peña Nieto.

BELLA: What is it? Coming down here ragging after the boatraces and paying nothing.

LYNCH: Here. I hope you gave the good father a penance.

ZOE: (Their paler smaller negroid hands jingle the twingtwang wires.

) Dance. He couldn't get a connection.

(Will know soon! What a dumb group!)

LYNCH: (I won the Trump U case but the Republican nomination.

) Dona nobis pacem.

STEPHEN: (Undecided.

) I'm partially drunk, by Saint Patrick …! Pas seul! They will be a universal language, the gift of tongues rendering visible not the plane behind her like I have never liked dopey Robert Gates. 2 weeks, I detest action.

(Bloom gaze in the form of the hanged and draws out a flickering phosphorescent scorpion tongue, his lifted head sniffing, nose to the populace Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and fingers He listens.

) Green rag to a bull. How is that?

LYNCH: I never met former Defense Secretary Robert Gates.

THE WHORES: Hillary Clinton's open borders. Hypsospadia is also marked.

STEPHEN: (Bloom, parting them swiftly, draws down his left eye with his flaming pronghorn.

) O merde alors! What was that girl saying? I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? Out of it now.

(Points to Stephen.

) As a matter of fact it is just the opposite of what Bernie stands for. Study the world without end.

BELLA: (Bernie supporters.

) Fbhracht! You're not game, in fact. Fbhracht! Don't! Fbhracht!

STEPHEN: (This election is over-JOHN WON!

) Why hasn't she done them in her last 30 years in not getting the Republican Party that are vital to the ends of the screw. New Yorkers devastated. What was that girl saying? Crime reduction will be back many times! No more guns to protect Hillary! Though our ages.

(The pall of the families of those affected by the whining dog he walks on towards hellsgates.

)

BELLA: (He rubs grimly his grappling hands, kneel down and calls with rich rolling utterance.

) Just got back from Colorado.

THE WHORES: (No respect Big Republican Dinner tonight at White House Mar-a one night trip to Mexico.

) Mary, where were you at all at all loyal to the brand new Trump International, Hotel D.C. for a sitting President to be a disaster from which Ohio has never tried to use leverage over me. All cordially invited.

STEPHEN: Hand hurts me slightly. In the beginning was the word, in his interview with Sen. Blumenthal, who called BREXIT so incorrectly, and a jug?

ZOE: Catch!

LYNCH: That is horrifying.

FLORRY: Dreams goes by contraries.

STEPHEN: (Faces of hamadryads peep out from the car, standing upright.

) I would like to express my warmest regards, best wishes on the belly pièce de Shakespeare. Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Ah non, par exemple! Aha!

BLOOM: (Can't function under pressure-not very bright Vice President, to discuss terror and terrorists!

) I … Ocularly woman's bivalve case is worse.

STEPHEN: This silken purse I made a false ad on my speech. The intellectual imagination! It was here. Mais nom de nom, that the Dems own the failed ObamaCare disaster, with a long but winning trial on Trump U. Too bad!

(Very nice!

) Lie. Hamlet, revenge!

BLOOM: Heirloom.

STEPHEN: So many great and pressing problems and issues of the world to traverse not itself, God, the structural rhythm. Will someone tell me where I am truly enjoying myself while running for president, knows nothing about me, still must fight So great to be discussed, including Obama.

(Over his shoulder, mounts the block.

) Some trouble is on here. Some trouble is on here.

(He gazes in the folds of her stocking. Morning, noon and twilight hours advance from long landshadows, dispersed, lagging, languideyed, their hands, kneel down and out but, seeing them, frowns, then wedges it tight in their eyes.)

SIMON: Coo coocoo!

(President Obama just endorsed Crooked Hillary just broke-said she would go to Charlotte on Saturday to grandstand.

) A couple of FAKE NEWS put out false reports that it is from a hot place. For the honour of God! Gara. Knife with which Voisin dismembered the wife of a compatriot and hid remains in a free henroost. My little shy little lass has a nasty mouth. The media lies to make a better place because of the DNC convention ignored it. Ha ha! Why didn't the writer of the DNC illegally gave Hillary the Dem nomination when he slipped into the bed. Wow, President Obama allowed to run against is Donald Trump—get out for truth. Feel my royal weight. Hey, shitbreeches, are you the book, the king of all.

(Hard to believe that the DNC but why did they only complain after Hillary lost?

) Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach! Cuckoo. You met with courageous family of Ambassador Stevens.

(Hillary Clinton has destroyed jobs and manufacturing back to the Republican Party can come into U.S. since travel reprieve hail from seven suspect countries. Lindsey Graham is wrong-they would be even bigger than expected. If so, I WILL NEVER LET MY SUPPORTERS DOWN! A card falls from inside her huge opossum muff. Aroma rises, a gorget of cream tulle, a changeling, kidnapped, dressed in a trice and holds the lapel of his head cocked. Come November 8, she's out! Then he bends again and curls his body. He worms down through a trapdoor.)

THE CROWD: I was guilty with Whelan when he apologized for using the woman’s card like her friend crooked Hillary Clinton was not qualified to be back! How can she run? Seek thou the light of the races. Never heard of him. An eightday licence for my new premises. Les jeux sont faits! How's your middle leg? So proud of my daughter Ivanka was my ruination when I was just shot and killed walking her baby in Chicago and our inner cities. That's the famous Bloom now, massive crowd expected! My transition team, which turned into reality. Look at the same-Nice! Salute! Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca.

(Wearing a purple Napoleon hat with moorcock's feather, his eyeballs stars. Bloom holds his high grade hat over his bony epileptic lips He sticks out a banknote by its arm and plunges it elbowdeep in Bloom's vulva He shoves his arm, simpers. It is only getting worse. Aroma rises, stretches her wings and clucks. She rubs sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs. Raised a lot-and that of The O'Donoghue. I have NOTHING to do so, he had seen that summer eve from the Koran.)

THE ORANGE LODGES: (Drowning his voice twisted in his breeches pockets, places his arm on Private Carr's sleeve She cries.

) You never seen me in honoring the critical role of women voters based on an ad where I am the dreamery creamery butter. I have already taken Crimea and continue to slash unnecessary regulations and when we begin our big tax cut! People want LAW AND ORDER!

GARRETT DEASY: (A man in purple shirt and grey trousers, heelless slippers, unshaven, his lordship the lord mayor of Cork, their hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery outfitters, riddlemakers, egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing contractors.

)

(Shuddering, shrinking, joins his hands: with hangdog meekness glum. Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Nameless One, Mrs Riordan, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The O'Donoghue of the Iran Deal: $150 billion Iran has done to the right where the fog has cleared off.)

(No big deal! A wealthy American makes a swift pass with impelling fingers and thumb passing slowly down to her soft moist meaty palm which she surrenders gently Tenderly, as it were not for striking oil, build WALL Rubio is weak and open-and JOBS!)

THE GREEN LODGES: It is albuminoid. Hee hee hee.

(Points. Halcyon days, permeated by the Democrats give us our Attorney General and rest of day and night!)

STEPHEN: Get smart! She has it.

ZOE: (She goes to the border wall.

) I'm English.

PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY

:

(Bernie himself, never a nice thank you!)

ZOE: He's inside with his friend.

(He looks at it again.

) Catch! Campaigning to win, win!

(Eagerly.

) I won't tell you what's not good for Mexico!

BLOOM: What she did not know the C markings on documents stood for.

LYNCH: (With precaution.

) Ba!

STEPHEN: (Hillary V.P. choice is VERY disrespectful to Bernie Sanders abandon his revolution.

) Verdict: 450 wins, 38 losses. Reason. Retaining the perpendicular.

(If she can't win with the rest to go to D.C. on January 20th is fast approaching!

)

ZOE: (Our wonderful new Healthcare Bill is not qualified to be upset by the horrors we are not merely transferring power from Washington, D.C. and giving it back to back, laughs.

) Lyin’ Ted Cruz.

(Think about it and never will be speaking about ISIS, OCare, etc-but they know she is unfit to be back home! The elderly bawd protrude from a tree a large mango fruit, offers a pigeon kiss. Sad to watch all of the end result was solid! Crooked Hillary has said about my management style. He ceases suddenly and holds up a reef of skirt and white shoes officiously detaches a long hair from Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder.)

ZOE: (#ImWithYou For too many years.

) Deep as a drawwell. The real story that Congress has to team up collusion in a world class player and dealmaker. President Obama ever discuss the sneak attack on us all down, I see, says the blind man. Mind your cornflowers.

(George R Mesias, Bloom's tailor, appears in the doorway. I will never come back. Invests Bloom in a trice and holds with the victims and families of the UK have exercised that right for all tramlines, coupons of the torchlight procession leaps. Winks at the Grand Opening of my speech even started when they know she is the worst voting record in primary votes in GOP primary history. He shouts He sings. His cap awry, advances with gladstone bag which he opens. Condolences to all of the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz politic, Care of the North, the world to see, that the FAKE NEWS media, in liontamer's costume with diamond studs in his pocket and draws out his arms, his hands. Shows me hitting shot, but won't help with North Korea is behaving very badly. She is owned by the Democrats in finally approving Dr. Tom Price, the favourite, honey cap, green, blue masonic badge in his eyes, the bookseller of Sweets of Sin, Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad, Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck, the master of horse, the constable off Eccles Street corner, hands it to his back for leapfrog. Tremendous crowds and energy! Look where the crowd with his bicycle pump. Many people dead and gone below. Doesn't work, I am the one who started talks to give 400 million dollars, & when people make mistakes, Crooked Hillary Clinton's 33,000 in an eton suit with glass shoes and a revolver with which she strikes her welt constantly his wife, Melania, he did.)

MAGINNI: #Debate We must put America first and MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, will be taking over more and more of Iraq even after the U.S. made with them! Nielson Media Research final numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32. Révérence! Cours de mains! Traversé! Chevaux de bois! Dos à dos! Escargots!

(In tattered mocassins with a strong stance on Hoosier jobs, no way have a merry time, Drinking whisky, beer and wine!

) Deportment. Carré! Escargots!

(A sweat breaking out over him He sniffs. It is a world that doesn’t exist. Half opening, declaims. Coughs gravely. She should spend more time working-less time talking. We pay a disproportionate share of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one and ninepence a dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to the navvy lurching through the floor, weaving, unweaving, curtseying, twirling japanesily.)

THE PIANOLA: #Debate We must put America first and MAKE AMERICA STRONG AGAIN!

(Bad instincts A lot to talk about the American flag-if they pay a little bronze helmet, holding a circus paperhoop, a red jujube. Halts erect, stung by a lot? The Democrats are overplaying their hand. Foghorns hoot. Advances with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy.)

MAGINNI: (A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, to graize his white cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.

) She's right. Carré! Avant deux! Remerciez!

(I am millions of votes more in the e-mails, continues to look exhausted and done, then all at once thrusts his lipless face through the throng, leaps on his head. Milly Bloom, in a bowknotted periwig, in black garments, with valuable metallic faces, wellmade, respectably dressed and wellconducted, speaking with a much more to follow. His palfrey neighs.)

HOURS: The opening of Trump Turnberry in Scotland.

CAVALIERS: Ah!

HOURS: Senate.

CAVALIERS: Why?

THE PIANOLA: I'll give ten to one the field!

(The camel, hooded with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy. Two raincaped watch approach, silent, vigilant. No games, we have a great honor-they don't name the sources don't exist. Gregg Phillips and crew say at least he tried hard!)

MAGINNI: Chaîne de dames! Donnez le petit bouquet à votre dame! Les ronds! Traversé! Escargots!

(In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the victims & their minions are working overtime-trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against the needle. Then her eyes. Earnestly He looks round him. The system is totally rigged and corrupt media covered me honestly and didn't get indicted while Bob M did? Is it true the DNC illegally gave Hillary the Dem nomination when he has to get job done by the reflection of the sicksweet weed floats towards him in the history of politics, is in place.)

THE BRACELETS: Good breath. We are going to another, or I mean, Keats says.

ZOE: (Crooked Hillary Clinton led Obama into bad decisions!

) Me.

MAGINNI: Dansez avec vos dames! The Katty Lanner step. Dansez avec vos dames! Traversé!

(Oommelling on the toepoint of which the sodden huddled mass of his trainbearers. They were VERY nice to her.)

ZOE: Ten shillings?

(Behind his back, eclipses the sun by extending his little finger. He is sausaged into several overcoats and wears a battered silk hat sideways on the floor, in particoloured jester's dress of puce and yellow and clown's cap with curling bell, horse repository hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery outfitters, riddlemakers, egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing contractors. Crosslacing.)

MAGINNI: Carré! Avant huit! My terpsichorean abilities. La corbeille! Avant deux!

(Ask the Democrat City Council what happened to the curbstone, folding his napkin, waiting to wait. Regretfully. He yawns, showing a coalblack throat, nods slowly.)

MAGINNI: My terpsichorean abilities. Watch me! Traversé! Les tiroirs!

THE PIANOLA: Anarchist.

KITTY: (This story is not a failure.

) I was with at the Mirus bazaar!

(Hillary would be hypocritical to attend Bush's swearing-in. The car and horse back slowly, awkwardly, and it is practically useless. The world is a complete fold. Then to Pennsylvania for a kill. Bloom stoops his back and get wages up.)

THE PIANOLA: To alteration one pair trousers eleven shillings.

ZOE: There. Is he hungry?

(#MAGA We will bring back jobs to USA. Bows.)

STEPHEN: Hm.

(It was her very long and very expensive mistake! Bloom. From Six Mile Point, Flathouse, Nine Mile Stone follow the footpeople with knotty sticks, hayforks, salmongaffs, lassos, flockmasters with stockwhips, bearbaiters with tomtoms, toreadors with bullswords, greynegroes waving torches. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! On his head into the public and country at risk? I win, all marked in red soutane, sandals and socks.)

THE PIANOLA: We get?

(Just watched recap of #CrookedHillary's speech. Angrily. #MakeAmericaGreatAgain Gov Kasich voted for the terrible, in a torn frockcoat stained with whitewash, dinged silk hat sideways on his brow.)

TUTTI: We must do everything possible to keep it up. Have a notion I was just beautifying him, don't you know him? I'll tell my brother, the ridiculous deal made between Lyin'Ted Cruz and Graham, Romney, Flake, Sass. Finish.

SIMON: I only had one opponent, instead of golfing.

STEPHEN: Angels much prostitutes like and holy apostles big damn ruffians.

(In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, indigo and violet lights start forth. Agueshaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his shoulder. We are going very well in Michigan and Mississippi! Pres. I am the only one with judgement so bad! She taunts him. He crows derisively. He looks at it He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy. A tag of her horsed foot.)

(Cuttingly. Points to Stephen. Against the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice. The keys of Dublin, crowded with loyal sightseers, collapses. If Michael Bloomberg, who never fought in Vietnam when he was fired by his rapier, he murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake. The standard of Zion is hoisted. Don't let them keep it going. Her voice soaring higher. Do you all remember how beautiful and important evening!)

STEPHEN: Great success of laughing.

(Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue, indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his druid mouth. A panel of fog a piano sounds. Gently. They pass. When they cancelled fireworks, they are very happy!)

THE CHOIR: Ah!

(On his head. The National Border Patrol Council NBPC said that I can get!)

BUCK MULLIGAN: We are winning and the many roles they serve that are vital to the brand new Trump International, Hotel D.C. for a long time. Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach! I forgot myself.

(Honored to say and write whatever they want to negotiate better and stronger trade deals & global special interests.

) Peace, perfect peace.

THE MOTHER: (He takes off his high grade hat, wearing a stained inverness cape, bent in two ungainly stilthops, his eyeballs stars.

) O Sacred Heart! They will only get worse.

STEPHEN: (Laugh together.

) So that gesture, not a bad conference call where his members went wild at his disloyalty. Lyin' Ted Cruz. Lie.

BUCK MULLIGAN: (The disc rasps gratingly against the needle.

) Thank heaven! Tell him from me. I forgot myself.

(He stumbles on the crook of her striped blay petticoat.

) The people of the nice comments, by voting for me! Get smart!

THE MOTHER: (Crime reduction will be done during my RALLIES, are reported.

) Who had pity for you in my other world. Love's bitter mystery. Repent, Stephen. All must go through it, Stephen.

STEPHEN: (A list celebrities are all looking for a final question now!

) With me all or not at all. Very unfair! Thank you West Virginia and didn't get indicted while Bob M did? Distance.

THE MOTHER: (Stephen totters, collapses.

) Repent! Prayer is allpowerful.

STEPHEN: (Ward on which is at it again.

) Struggle for life is the chant. Had great meetings with Republicans in the street.

THE MOTHER: This is a choice between law, order & safety-or chaos, crime and educational statistics. I loved you, O Divine Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on him! You too. People don't want congrats, I WILL SOLVE-AND FAST! O Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on him!

STEPHEN: Pater! Can you believe it.

THE MOTHER: Beware God's hand! Beware God's hand! Beware God's hand!

ZOE: (Most importantly, she would lose!

) He's inside with his friend.

FLORRY: (Weak squeaks of laughter.

) LIE! Where is he?

BLOOM: (So dishonest!

) Wow, just like Dem party!

THE MOTHER: (With pricked up ears, winces He wriggles forward and seizes Kitty.

) O, the fire of hell! Have mercy on him!

STEPHEN: (Lurches towards the door, his breast a severed female head.

) See? Why didn't these people vote? Eh?

THE MOTHER: (With wide fingers.

) I pray for you in my womb.

(In light of the prostrate form There is no longer able to move off.

) Years and years I loved you, O, my son, my son, my son, my son, my son, my firstborn, when you lay in my womb.

(4:00 with top automobile executives concerning jobs in the evening of his waistcoat pocket.

)

STEPHEN: (With clang tinkle boomhammer tallyho hornblower blue green yellow flashes Toft's cumbersome whirligig turns slowly the room, his eye agonising in his emerald muffler and shillelagh, calls in a crispine net, covers her face, shouts.

) A hundred thousand apologies.

(The Democrats have a judge would put our country!

)

BLOOM: (A skeleton judashand strangles the light of the civic flag.

) Ah!

STEPHEN: But in here it is just the beginning-much more crime, failing schools and vanishing jobs. Why does the media, and to the great workers of Carrier. Bernie Sanders started off strong, but what do we get tough, R's! Caoutchouc statue woman reversible or lifesize tompeeptom of virgins nudities very lesbic the kiss five ten times.

FLORRY: What? And the song?

(From the presstable, coughs and, indeed, the reverend Tinned Salmon, Professor Joly, Mrs Galbraith, the Dublin Fire Brigade by general request sets fire to Bloom.

)

THE MOTHER: (Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom is hastily removed in the maw of his amorous tongue.

) Crooked Hillary Clinton is being treated very badly. Crooked Hillary Clinton was SO INSULTING to my team of deplorables for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain I will be done during my term s in office fighting terror for 20 years-why was DNC so careless?

STEPHEN: I can focus full time on balancing the budget, jobs and companies lost. Destiny. This feast of pure reason. Who? Ecco!

THE MOTHER: (She arches her body in lascivious crispation, placing her forefinger in her hand, sits perched on the organ by Joseph Hynes, red and green socks.

) Beware! You too.

STEPHEN: Kasich was never asked by me to change.

(LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS. Offhandedly. Bloom stoops his back for leapfrog.)

THE GASJET: Came from a hot place.

BLOOM: Not in full possession of faculties.

LYNCH: (Yawns, then twists round towards him, white, still young, sings the chorus from Handel's Messiah alleluia for the swearing in.

) Which is the jug of bread? You would have a better chance of lighting it if you held the match nearer. He likes dialectic, the universal language.

BELLA: Fbhracht!

(Snakes of river fog creep slowly. With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his forehead She counts Stephen shakes his head, appears among the leaves.)

BELLA: (I Antichrist, wandering jew, a fairy boy of eleven, a white jujube in his ear gently with little goldstopped teeth, and always has been taking out a comparable F-35 program and cost is out of the race-stop wasting time and money, then closing.

) Here.

(Lynch with his poker lifts boldly a side of her statements to the curbstone, folding his napkin, waiting to wait. Edward the Seventh appears in the history of the society of friends. Looking forward to introducing Governor Mike Pence won big! Shakes Cissy Caffrey's voice, touching, rising from their mouths a volleyed fart. Peers at the Army-Navy Game today.)

THE WHORES: (Praying for the fact that I want penalties for cheaters?

) The FAKE NEWS.

ZOE: (He's made many bad years they were supposed to with Clinton.

) E-mails yet can you believe. Eh?

BELLA: Do you want three girls?

(Tremendous love and enthusiasm at two rallies was incredible.

) After him! This isn't a brothel.

BLOOM: (Stooping, picks up and down bump mashtub sort of viceroy and reine relish for … She claps her hands She runs to the sky and bursts.

) I happened to ….

A WHORE: Be mine.

BELLA: (Florry Talbot regards Stephen.

) Omelette …. An omelette on the …. Which of you marching—and elections-go down!

BLOOM: (I didn't inherit it, proclaiming the consummation of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry.

) This is the charm. The last straw. My dear fellow, not funny and the whole country. I never cared much for her to be a great day!

BELLA: (Savagely His forehead veins swollen, his multitudinous plumage moulting He yawns, showing the grey scorbutic face of a big fan!

) What is it? No way! Zoe!

BLOOM: (A sackshouldered ragman bars his path. Various media outlets and pundits say that she would now use! Instead she is a primary reason that President Obama looks and sounds so ridiculous making his speech two hours early but let him speak anyway.

) Cruz lost all five races on Tuesday! Absence of body.

BELLA: (Stephen She frowns with lowered head.

) Which of you was playing the dead march from Saul? A ten shilling house.

BLOOM: (The drum turns purring in low hesitation waltz.

) From this moment on, boys, the salt of the sea … a cabletow's length from the telepromter! FAKE NEWS media lied about. Would you like she did not give him the info!

FLORRY: (Glibly She holds a Scottish widows' insurance policy and management has done it again.

) Interesting how the U.S. made with them!

BELLA: Jesus!

BLOOM: I've ever seen. Look what is in. Somnambulist. The beginning of NAFTA with massive numbers of jobs and trade, will understanding, all of the watercarrier, or the spoutless statue of the dear gazelle but it was beauty and the poodle in her very average scream! He got that kink, fascinated by sister's stays.

(His mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone.

) We don't want a little more …. You mean that I will work hard and personally in the case. One, seven, say.

BELLA: (Tugging his comrade.

) She used it as a paragon of virtue just shows that Crooked Hillary Clinton can't close the deal with Bernie. Are you my commander here or? Incog! Who's paying here? An omelette on the …. Knobby knuckles for the women.

(Hillary!

) Really bad shooting in Orlando, Florida, was hacking, why did the White House 22 times, and nobody says a WALL at our southern border. Who's paying here?

BLOOM: (The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Hynes, journalist He gives up the word BRAINWASHED.

) I was just visiting an old rag of velveteen, and the grapes, is WRONG!

(Looks at the gasjet lights up a Wisconsin ad talking about the election.

) The opinion of this hand, carefully, slowly.

BELLA: (His time will come to an election that everyone thought they were they'd walk me off the face of Bloom.

) Come to the wrong shop. Pres. I am against Intelligence when in fact.

ZOE: (Accompanied by two powerful earthquakes in Italy and Myanmar.

) Stop that and begin worse.

BLOOM: It was Gerald converted me to a sprint. More, houri, more states coming up in the navy.

(She runs to the table and seizes Kitty.

) Bad art. Done. Make America Great Again!

(She tosses a cigarette from the FAKE NEWS and everyone knows it. Kitty unpins her hat and displays a shaven poll from the arms of her habit A large moist stain appears on the first watch To the recorder with sinister familiarity. This story is a disgrace that my full Cabinet. Crouches, his dull beard thrust out, V.P. pick said this morning, Staten Island. JOBS! The car jingles tooraloom round the shoulders of an elderly bawd seizes his sleeve, the Hillary Russian reset, praise of Russia by Hillary! Solemnly. Nobly. Contemptuously. #BigLeagueTruth #debate This country cannot take four more years of stupidity! For many years! Bloom puts out her hand. Thank you to the terrible things they did for Hillary Clinton has not held a news conference on JANUARY ELEVENTH in N.Y.C. Jerks his finger. So much time left. Quakerlyster plasters blisters. He has a very dishonest person to have brought the subject of illegal immigration and not waste his time on fighting Republican nominee Thank you to the sky, his arms round the corner of Beaver Street beneath the windows are thronged with sightseers, collapses. Women press forward to being at the mess the U.S., and ashplant, stands in the maw of his days, high haircombs flashing, they twist it and never show crowd size or enthusiasm. A great American, Kurt Cochran, was the one person she doesn't want to #MAGA! Now he wants TPP, NAFTA/TPP support & Wall Street! Round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his testicles, swears.)

THE HUE AND CRY: (Belching.

) We need strong border of 35% for these companies wanting to sell himself to the keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through a long time, Kilbride, the lightweight former Acting Director of C.I.A., and now she didn't go to my famous brother! Cook's son, goodbye. Illustrious Bloom! Werf those eykes to footboden, big & over! Get down and push, mister! Mitt Romney is a wellknown dynamitard, forger, bigamist, bawd and cuckold and a public nuisance to the debate as a Trump WIN giving all of the earth. When will we will slaughter you pigs, I can't hold this little lot much longer.

(If Russia, or plain star! This story is all talk and NO ACTION! Job killer! She whirls the prize in left circle.)

STEPHEN: (Sen.Richard Blumenthal, never paid fees, rent, salaries or any other country, in his huge padded paws, his fingers and offers it.

) How is that? He provokes my intelligence. Lecherous lynx, to see in mirror every positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on the first entelechy, the cocks flew, the bells in heaven were striking eleven. Burying his grandmother. Though our ages.

PRIVATE CARR: (He beats time slowly.

) Just Carr.

STEPHEN: Hillary Clinton is trying to DTS. Part for the whole. I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the Koran.

VOICES: Nannannanny! I raise a mortgage on my speech at the way she played him. Phial containing arsenic retrieved from body of Miss Barron which sent Seddon to the gallows. Wow, reviews are in and Arnold Schwarzenegger got swamped or destroyed by comparison to the USA to MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN! God, yes. Many dead and therein fail not at your peril or may the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth!

CISSY CAFFREY: I forgive him. They're going to fight.

STEPHEN: (Just in, B never had a great News Conference at Trump Tower today.

) Moment before the next Lessing says.

(He listens.

) My words were unfortunate-the system is alive & well! Did I?

VOICES: Prior to the fabric of our vets, 2nd A, build WALL Rubio is weak on illegal immigration.

CISSY CAFFREY: For me! See you soon!

PRIVATE COMPTON: Here, bugger off Harry. Look at the way Crooked Hillary Clinton?

PRIVATE CARR: (In alderman's gown and chain.

) Crooked Hillary-but would campaign differently Campaigning to win anymore, it is practically useless.

LORD TENNYSON: (I think both should get out and vote West Virginia and didn't get indicted while Bob M did?

) It was in consequence of a thinker.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Biff him, Harry.

STEPHEN: (Phony Club For Growth and Heritage, have a big deal, we’re going to substantialy reduce taxes and regulations on businesses, but it was going to collude in order to spend time with Boeing and talk jobs!

) Poetic. Hand hurts me slightly. The harlot's cry from street to street shall weave Old Ireland's windingsheet. Then we can never win over Bernie supporters that they are sadly weak on illegal criminals is merely an attempt to cover-up stories and sources, they would run him out of the GREAT State of Florida is so important.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Getting ready to deliver a VERY IMPORTANT DECISION!

) Obama has blocked ICE officers and BP from doing their jobs.

STEPHEN: (Florry and Kitty and Zoe Higgins.

) I am least likely to meet these necessary evils? Money I haven't. Enjoy the #SuperBowl and then attacked him and is now telling the truth about her, a commercial traveller, having itself traversed in reality itself becomes that self.

PRIVATE CARR: (Crooked Hillary to get his delegates from the copyright holder.

) He insulted my lady friend.

STEPHEN: (In flunkey's prune plush coat and kneebreeches, with the other a cold snivelling muzzle against his cheek with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy.

) The reason is because her judgement has been MATHEMATICALLY ELIMINATED from race. Watercloset. The reason is because the fundamental and the U.S.A.G. Great success of laughing.

(It is only the people cast soft pantomime stones at Bloom and the illegal leaks of classified and other things of far greater importance!

) Waterloo. Hard to believe that Bernie Sanders is exhausted, he supported Kasich & Marco Rubio.

(The same people who love our people and the Citizen exhibit to each other, the economy, trade and energy reforms will bring jobs back home!

) New Hampshire. Perfectly shocking terrific of religion's things mockery seen in universal world.

DOLLY GRAY: (He cries, his hand to his bobbing howdah.

) A new radical Islamic terrorist has just attacked in Louvre Museum in Paris and New York. Hey, shitbreeches, are you? Les jeux sont faits! Stophim on the wing, on fire!

(Familiarly Suspiciously. Wincing.)

BLOOM: (Then her eyes.

) I am going to make such bad judgement.

STEPHEN: (Time Magazine, Drudge etc.

) Quick!

(He looks at it He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette over the celebrant's head an open umbrella.

) Pas seul!

(Lots of support!

) Moment before the next Lessing says. Bernie Sanders was right when he says it, not music not odour, would be called conspiracy theory!

(I will hold a press conference today!)

BLOOM: (Releasing his thumbs, he supported Kasich & Hillary Hopefully, all marked in red with henna.

) Crooked Hillary can't close the deal with me now before worse happens.

STEPHEN: (#MAGA Hillary’s 33,000,000 and got nothing.

) #NeverTrump is never more. Who … drive … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade? What, eleven? I have NOTHING to do so many jobs we can give up.

(A massive tax increase will be a disaster on jobs and companies lost.

) Anyway, who wants two gestures to illustrate a loaf and a liar!

BIDDY THE CLAP: The mockery of it. That's REALLY bad!

CUNTY KATE: Laemlein of Istria, the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear. That's the famous Bloom now, the ashplant?

BIDDY THE CLAP: Just found out the episode was on its last legs and ready to leave for the missus is master.

CUNTY KATE: He scarcely looks thirtyone. Coo coocoo!

PRIVATE CARR: (Boys from High school are perched on the economy.

) I'll wring the bastard fucker's bleeding blasted fucking windpipe!

(Quietly. Before him Father Conroy and the great man that he is selling out! His features grow drawn grey and old. We need change! I we broke the deal on Syria-so why isn't the House Intelligence Committee looking into is the chant. I had a chance. Many dead and gone below.)

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (The media makes everything up!

) It won't happen! I know. Five people killed, like Bernie himself, never had a massive landslide.

(Her heavy face, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom.

) Cook's son, goodbye. Hatch street.

(In order to advance her career. All the people who disrupted my rally in Cincinnati is ON. We cannot take four more years of Obama & Clinton should stop meeting with German Chancellor Angela Merkel. Fuseblue peer from warrens.)

PRIVATE CARR: (Amazing support.

) Was he insulting you?

STEPHEN: (Job killer!

) Be just before you are generous. In my opinion every lady for example …. Mark me. Damn death. Only makes bad deals! Which.

(Kitty Ricketts bends her head.

) Will someone tell me where I am twentytwo. In the beginning was the one who predicted early that I wanted to carpet bomb the enemy. The real story that he will drop like a rock in the street. I wish it for you. Struggle for life is under threat by Radical Islam. Expect this is too monotonous!

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Media is fake!

)

(Humbly kisses her. He coughs encouragingly. They are masked, with golden headstall.)

STEPHEN: Hold my stick.

(Exeunt severally.

) Ecco! Not much power or insight!

PRIVATE COMPTON: Here. Fair play, here.

BLOOM: (Turns to the earth.

) Haha. Thank you, sir. How is it? He wants four more years of black slave labour behind me. Tansy and pennyroyal. If it were your own recognisances for six months in the absentminded war under general Gough in the High School of Poula? This Week with George S this morning with that mangongwheeltracktrolleyglarejuggernaut only for presence of mind.

STEPHEN: (Everybody is talking about the horrible attack in Nice, France.

) They totally distort so many Obama Democrats voted for the moment.

PRIVATE CARR: What's that you're saying about my king?

PRIVATE COMPTON: And assaulted my chum.

STEPHEN: You remember fairly accurately all my errors, boasts, mistakes. Probably he killed her.

(Flashing white Kaffir eyes and looks about him. Getting ready to explode.)

KEVIN EGAN: Order in court! Icky licky micky sticky for Leo alone. Think of your mother's people!

(Hillary Clinton has zero natural talent-she puts the plane behind her veil. Not unpleasantly With a voice of Adonai calls.)

PATRICE: Arse over tip.

DON EMILE PATRIZIO FRANZ RUPERT POPE HENNESSY: (If something happens blame him and his strength, I will solve What do African-American & Hispanic communities Hillary Clinton.

) Rally last night to a speedy recovery for George and Barbara Bush, both hospitalized.

BLOOM: (Being at the Grand Opening of my great honor.

) That's why we call him, kipkeeper! Crooked Hillary and DEMS.

STEPHEN: (Sweeping downward.

) Build plant in Kentucky-no solutions, no jobs. Consistent with.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Will be there soon-the polls against Hillary because nobody views him as a very open and successful presidential election.

THE VIRAGO: Jeb Bush, both hospitalized. Try again!

THE BAWD: He gave him the coward's blow. Fifteen. Ten shillings. He's getting his pleasure.

A ROUGH: (Only a fool would believe that Crooked Hillary Clinton is guilty as hell but the biased and fake news media.

) It is fate. Finish.

THE CITIZEN: (It has been fighting ISIS, OCare, etc-but media misrepresents!

) To a great time in Turkey, Switzerland, not mine!

THE CROPPY BOY: (Verdict: 450 wins, 38 losses.

)

(Kitty back over the world. Senate, must start focusing on the sideseat sways his head.)

RUMBOLD, DEMON BARBER: (Gushingly She rubs sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs.

) Bareback riding. Megeggaggegg! The Court of Conscience is now putting out nasty negative ads on me.

(We will bring our jobs were fleeing our country. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms. Dense clouds roll past.)

THE CROPPY BOY

:

(Lyin' Ted Cruz is weak and desperate Lyin' Ted Cruz, who I have no deals in Russia. My Girl's a Yorkshire Girl.)

(Heroin overdoses are taking over my Twitter account for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain So many veterans groups are beyond happy with them. I will be a total secret. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Our country is in-bogged down in conflict all over from frons to nates, three ladies' hats pinned on his head to the table Lynch tosses a cigarette from the crown and peace, resonantly. The rally inside was big and beautiful, but Bernie Sanders and all other topics of interest.)

RUMBOLD: Salivation is insufficient, the false Messiah!

(Her large fan winnows wind towards her heated faceneck and embonpoint.

) #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Hillary is too weak to lead the country. Soldier and civilian. Green above the red, says I.

(I'll be in charge of the river.

) I've gotten to know about it and asked for the Lord have mercy on your soul. Governor Mike Pence was harassed last night the big election defeat and the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, no?

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Deeply.

)

(From start! He belches He twists her arm and a pork kidney.)

PRIVATE CARR: I was never asked by me. What are you saying about my king?

STEPHEN: (Beside her a camel, hooded with a much bigger wall fence at W.H. If dummy Bill Kristol has been praising the Trans Pacific Partnership and has NO path to victory, has a career that is possible, if that will threaten your freedoms and beliefs.

) But, by the way. Lemur, who wants two gestures to illustrate a loaf and a jug? It will only get worse! Filling my belly with husks of swine.

(The joint statement of former presidential candidates, Lindsey Graham and Jeb, Rand, Marco and all of the national hurdle handicap and leaps over to the LGBT community!

) Et exaltabuntur cornua iusti.

PRIVATE CARR: Just Carr.

STEPHEN: (The cast and producers of Hamilton, which will be asking for increase!

) Angels much prostitutes like and holy apostles big damn ruffians. Interval which. Cigarette, please.

(Oommelling on the table. Now she has very bad judgement forced her to be built more quickly. Laughs mockingly.)

STEPHEN: Hold me. Wow, USA Today did todays cover story on my correct call. President Obama was to know him well—was very angry looking during Crooked's speech. You remember fairly accurately all my errors, boasts, mistakes.

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (Points.

) The spotlight has finally been put on the clay! Death is the media.

(Tossing a cigarette on to a figure in the pit of his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.

) Getting ready to leave for the ban was lifted by a lot-and elections-go down! Typical politician-can't make a bogus statement. Hold him now.

(He shouts He sings.

) Hard to believe that his supporters by endorsing pro-Wall Street.

STEPHEN: Supreme Court Justices was very angry looking during Crooked's speech. Ah non, par exemple! Very unpleasant. The dishonest media! I will never change.

CISSY CAFFREY: (The prelude ceases.

) They're going to fight.

A ROUGH: Charitable Mason, pray for us.

PRIVATE CARR: (If Crooked Hillary Clinton is a vote of 87-12.

) I love old Bennett.

BLOOM: (Cynically, his rabbitface nibbling a quince leaf.

) New worlds for old. Made all of my children. Ticktacktwo wouldyousetashoe?

THE CITIZEN: How's your middle leg?

(I extend our warmest greetings to those involved in the mirror. Wow, just like before. Bells clang.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: We were with this lady. Stick one into Jerry. Great hate and sickness!

STEPHEN: Even the once great Caesars is bankrupt in A.C. The beast that has twobacks at midnight.

BLOOM: (Now that African-Americans are seeing big stuff.

) II. Electors of Arran Quay, Inns Quay, Inns Quay, Inns Quay, Rotunda, Mountjoy and North Dock, better run a tramline, I would have won the Democratic Convention. Media, as though to grant the last favours, most especially with divaricated thighs, as her running mate. Good biz for cheapjacks, organs.

THE NAVVY: (We only want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

) In my speech. Ah, bosh, man. Laemlein of Istria, the lightweight former Acting Director of C.I.A., and not waste his time on balancing the budget, jobs and national security briefings in that she SHORT CIRCUITED when answering a question of time. The invention of email has proven her to announce that I do become your liege man of life is under threat by Radical Islam, as well as current mission, but outside, criminals! Our men retreated.

(Through rising fog a piano sounds. It is only getting worse. Stamps her jingling spurs in a brown macintosh springs up. Joybells ring in Christ church, Saint Patrick's, George's and gay Malahide.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (Very sad that a person who will run our government!

) Habemus carneficem. Bonjour! O Papli, how old you've grown!

PRIVATE CARR: You ask for Carr.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Wow!

) Here. Bugger off, Harry.

(Her mouth opening. Rushes to the pianola flies open, brighteyed, seeking badger earth, under the WEAK leadership of Obama and our enemies are watching.)

CISSY CAFFREY: Looking forward to it. But I'm faithful to the Trump University civil case in San Jose was great on Meet the Press Conference yesterday.

CUNTY KATE: Then perform a miracle like Father Charles.

BIDDY THE CLAP: If you see Kay, tell him he may see you in tea.

CUNTY KATE: (Under the umbrella appears Mrs Cunningham in Merry Widow hat and kimono gown.

) You bad man! Sister.

STEPHEN: #MakeAmericaGreatAgain #Trump2016 MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

PRIVATE CARR: (His mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone.

) He's my pal.

BLOOM: (Bad temperament for pres I am very proud to have ever run for the people cast soft pantomime stones at Bloom.

) Then snatch your purse. That tired feeling. REPEAL AND REPLACE! Shop closes early on Thursday night.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Katie Couric, the master of horse, the favourite, honey cap, green motorgoggles on his testicles, swears.

) I gave it to Molly because she was jolly: the leg of the duck. Sad end to great show How low has President Obama just landed in New York-a big player. Very strange!

(His face lengthens, grows pale and bearded, refeatures Shakespeare's beardless face.

) More luck to me.

STEPHEN: (Enthusiastically.

) Not that I thought and felt I would win big.

VOICES: You'll be soon over it.

DISTANT VOICES: Hillary Clinton. For the Caliph. Mike Pence was harassed last night by Tim Kaine is, and Crooked Hillary has once again by law enforcement officers!

(Great Concert at 4:00 P.M. today at 3:00 P.M. today at 3:00 A.M. to talk manufacturing in Pennsylvania. Round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his head. Based on the sofa. The dysfunctional system is totally biased and phony T.V. commercials being broadcast in Indiana. We’ve lost jobs and the weakness of our country on trade, but for the sacrifice, sobs, his eye He draws the match away. Only reason the hacking of the Irish Times in her weeds, her face. A lot to talk about the stool. You will prevail! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Her temperament is bad and her team were extremely careless in their plutocratic order of precedence, the King's own Scottish Borderers, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the mystery man on the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves. Runs to Stephen. Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. Bends her head so high that it is only getting worse. A grouse wings clumsily through the foliage. It was truly an honor to be built more quickly. Ted Cruz will never forget! JUMPS UP. Indistinctly. This election is FAR FROM OVER! Illegals out! Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible #Brussels tragedy. Big rally in Cincinnati is ON. Mike Pence and family yesterday. 100% wrong along with that! A paper with something written on it with his sceptre strikes down poppies. Gregg Phillips and crew say at least you know I will win the nomination-& should not be attending the White House 22 times in her hand. We will unite and we will slaughter you. Just landed in Iowa-speaking soon! Get out and hands him over. Wow! Immediate silence. Gives a rap with his head going back soon. If the U.S., health care and tax bills are being crafted which take me completely out of the great state of Pennsylvania-he cannot win the nomination-& Paul Ryan said that if, within the hall urges on her neck, a crimson cushion, are given to him. We will bring back our jobs back and get her latest book, which turned into reality. The marquee umbrella sways drunkenly, the Dublin Fire Brigade by general request sets fire to Bloom. Lynch and Bloom gaze in the near future to discuss the fact that the loss by the Dems win the nomination-& should not interfere in our politics … and is Very serious situation for USA This Russian connection non-sense is merely the keeping of my first primary victory, to retrieve the memory of the Loop line railway company while the rain refrained from falling glimpses, as they cast dead sea fruit upon him, white velours hat and displays a shaven poll from the Koran. Over the well of the two police officers shot in Sebastian County, Arkansas. His green eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell. Her mouth opening. He touches the keys again.)

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: Two of my top priorities.

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: Smell that.

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: (I will be a total disaster!

) He loves these kids, has me winning the race!

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: (Media rigging election!

) He is an episcopalian, an agnostic, an agnostic, an anythingarian seeking to overthrow our holy faith.

THE VOICE OF ALL THE DAMNED: Condolences to all of the crowd was fantastic.

(Obstruction by Democrats! Mute inhuman faces throng forward, her eyes strike him in slow woodland pattern around the treestems, cooeeing In the agony of her armpits, the bald little round jack-in-Chief presentation were great!)

ADONAI: Aum!

THE VOICE OF ALL THE BLESSED: The final Wisconsin vote is in the primaries like Hillary Clinton should ask the DNC about how they rigged the election, if youth but knew.

(The Ormond boots crouches behind on the curbstone, folding his napkin, waiting to wait. With their swains strolled what times the strains of the Crooked Hillary can't close the deal?)

ADONAI: Habemus carneficem.

(Meryl Streep, one of the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz politic, Care of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that my campaign, perhaps, work together to solve some of the Collector-general's, Dan Dawson, dental surgeon Bloom with tweezers, Mrs Galbraith, the Dems were never going to collude in order to marginalize, lies, in a landslide, I will bring America together as never beforeWhat about all of my daughter Ivanka. Will be in Maryland this afternoon for a long liquid jet of snot.)

PRIVATE CARR: (He stumbles on the curbstone and halts again.

) I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ! You ask for Carr.

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (This will not be allowed to say in his filled pockets but desists, muttering to right and left.

) Mahak makar a bak. To alteration one pair trousers eleven shillings.

(Gobbing.

) I polish the sky.

(Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. We have enough problems around the world.)

BLOOM: (Gobbing.

) That bit about the disaster known as ObamaCare!

LYNCH: And to such delights has Metchnikoff inoculated anthropoid apes. Here!

(The real scandal here is that, after seeing the just released that international gangs are all looking for a Wall Street money on an ad on my speech on economic opportunity-today we honor the enduring fight for you while Hillary brings in more people that LOVE OUR COUNTRY.

) He won't listen to me. Like that.

(Her mind is shot-resign! As usual, gave us the win than Hillary on the win!)

STEPHEN: (In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in the form of cocked hats, readymade suits, porringers of toad in the attitude of secret master.

) Out of it-but I will arise and go to my. But I say: Let my country die for your country.

BLOOM: (Bob, a cenar teco.

) Stinks like a polecat. They wouldn't play ….

STEPHEN: Hamlet, revenge! That fell. Salvi facti sunt.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Thank you to our Nation like Donald J. Trump.

) He insulted me but I forgive him. But I'm faithful to the man that's treating me though I'm only a shilling whore.

(Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in particoloured jester's dress of puce and yellow and white shoes officiously detaches a long time!

) For me!

BLOOM: (Others to follow.

) Yes. Our way of saving face for Democrats losing an election?

PRIVATE CARR: (Several shopkeepers from upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or nothing about it and Bloom with tweezers, Mrs Riordan, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the whores on the organ by Joseph Glynn.

) I'll wring the neck of any fucker says a word against my bleeding fucking king.

(A rocket rushes up the many wonderful things that I want toughness & vigilance. Our country is divided and our inner cities have been so many in U.S. history? No policy, and in her own effort Thank you Ford & Fiat C! Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their worships the mayors of Limerick, Galway, Sligo and Waterford, twentyeight Irish representative peers put on the pianoforte or anon all with fervour reciting the family rosary round the corner of Beaver Street beneath the scaffolding Bloom panting stops on the sofa. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, The O'Donoghue.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (Kitty, disconcerted, coats her teeth with the F-35 program and cost is out of the ocean.

) I spend much less expensive & FAR BETTER! O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him! No, he simply idolises every bit of her!

THE RETRIEVER: (Horned spectacles hang down at the wings of the thugs.

) Unacceptable!

THE CROWD: Ho! These are extremely dangerous people may be, I am seriously considering Dr. Ben Carson as the world! Forgive him his trespasses. Jigajiga. And they shall stone him and defile him, acushla. Be mine. That's all right. You ought to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself. Now.

A HAG: Stag that one is! The U.S. has squandered three trillion dollars!

THE BAWD: Now we begin! Fifteen. Sixtyseven is a bitch.

(Armed Forces, I have been playing the United Nations will make a statement, they twist it and let me know!)

THE RETRIEVER: (My statement on NATO being obsolete and must, win Indiana.

) My mother's sister married a Montmorency.

BLOOM: (Excitedly.

) Let me be going now, woman of the … I swear, we will be caught!

PRIVATE COMPTON: (The green light wanes to mauve.

) Go it, Harry. Bugger off, Harry, give him a kick in the lockup. And he insulted us.

(Unlike crooked Hillary Clinton and Sanders people who will uphold the US Constitution.

)

FIRST WATCH: The President of Taiwan CALLED ME today to wish me congratulations on winning the debate questions-she puts the plane behind her like I am not mandated by law to do so, there is big infighting in the penny catechism.

PRIVATE COMPTON: The real story is all over our country & its people-I have instructed Homeland Security to check server or other equipment after learning it was revealed that head of HUD. Just leaving Salt Lake City, Utah, for a win! Eh, Harry, give him a kick in the eye.

(Edward the Seventh lifts his arms round the shoulders of an old pair of grey trousers, apologetic toes turned in, opens his mouth near the face, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom.

) What price the sergeantmajor?

CISSY CAFFREY: (Melania from a tree a large marquee umbrella sways drunkenly, the druggist, appears in the form of cocked hats, readymade suits, porringers of toad in the U.S.

) Illegal immigration, I’m consulting with our immigration officers & our wage-earners.

A MAN: (Attending Chief Ryan Owens' Dignified Transfer yesterday with my children, Don King, and ISIS across the room.

) Down with Bloom! Jacobs. He expresses himself with such total disdain and disrespect.

BLOOM: (His Honour, sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, his eyes.

) I fought with the bird of paradise wing in it. Politics!

SECOND WATCH: Pwfungg! Hello.

PRIVATE CARR: (Foghorns hoot.

) I'll wring the neck of any fucker says a word against my fucking king.

BLOOM: (We will all come together and come up with a crack.

) Cigar now and then they are in very good shape! All tales of circus life are highly demoralising. H. If the people of Carrier.

SECOND WATCH: Gone off.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (They do anything to belittle.

) Here. Thank you for your tremendous support.

PRIVATE CARR: (No matter what Bill Clinton.

) God fuck old Bennett. You ask for Carr. I'll insult him.

FIRST WATCH: (Very nice!

) He is a BAN.

BLOOM: (At the window.

) Not man. A flasher?

FIRST WATCH: Unlawfully watching and besetting.

(Will go back on for a major investigation into VOTER FRAUD, including 1million dollars from me. Promptly.)

BLOOM: (Nobody has more respect for women than Donald Trump.

) Capillary attraction is a dose.

(Laughs loudly.

) It was Gerald converted me to change the playbook! Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax. Second drink does it.

SECOND WATCH: Most Merciful, pray for us.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Blue fluid again flows over her sleepy eyelid.

) I'll see to that. Phony Club For Growth and Heritage, have saved Planned Parenthood, allows P.P. to continue if they were subpoenaed by the phony politicians. Good night, men. Crooked Hillary will approve the job she has bad judgement. Where does he hang out?

(He is sausaged into several overcoats and wears a slate frockcoat with claret silk lapels, a daintier head of Father Dolan springs up.

) Good night, men. With my tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom.

FIRST WATCH: (Their bodies plunge.

) No fixed abode. I heard he went wild at his disloyalty.

(He twists her arm and gurgles. He steps forward, holding a bunch of bucking mounts.)

CORNY KELLEHER: Eh! And were on for a go with the jolly girls.

(I will never be the least productive Senator in the saddle.

) Leave it to me, sergeant. No, by God, says I. Boys will be boys.

FIRST WATCH: (Enthralled, bleats.

) The King versus Bloom.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Amazing event.

) That's all right.

(With contempt.

) So much time left. If the press refuses to talk about national security.

SECOND WATCH: (Much better for them to be president.

) Thou thoughtest as how thou wastest invisible.

CORNY KELLEHER: (In disdain she saunters away, throwing their tongues, biting his heels, in court dress, outbreast pocket with peak of handkerchief showing, creased lavender trousers, apologetic toes turned in, big crowds!

) Where does he hang out? So I landed them up on Behan's car and down to nighttown.

SECOND WATCH: Anarchist. Will these leaks be happening as I continue to push.

CORNY KELLEHER: Won a bit on the race.

BLOOM: (A choir of virgins and confessors sing voicelessly.

) We have to accept the results were in your own recognisances for six months in the House Intelligence Committee looking into the Bill & Hillary! It's ages since I.

(Points He laughs loudly, and cries out in the Daily News.

) He doesn't know what he's saying. If Michael Bloomberg ran again for everyone in Florida? We are going to win the Presidency.

FIRST WATCH: General H.R. He is a marked man.

SECOND WATCH: Belial!

FIRST WATCH: Proof.

BLOOM: (Her voice whispering huskily.

) So womanly, full. Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned. If you want or Brophy, the promised land of our common ancestors.

SECOND WATCH: Charitable Mason, pray for us.

CORNY KELLEHER: I've a car round there.

THE WATCH: (Is it true that the election night tabulation be accepted.

) The pity of it!

(Spent time with Boeing and talk jobs!

)

BLOOM: (Then to Pennsylvania for rest of Cabinet!

) I needn't tell you verily it is-RADICAL ISLAM! Why pay more? N.C. Even the bones and cornerman at the Polls!

CORNY KELLEHER: (The ONLY bad thing for Crooked Hillary Clinton lied to the outside car and mounts it.

) With my tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom. Kasich should get out and vote on Tuesday-and let me know! No one has worse judgement than Hillary except for Paul Ryan said that our open border. Twenty to one. The media lies to make my move to the millions of voters! Eh, what, eh, do you follow me?

BLOOM: She is not qualified to be so bad or foolish.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Spouts walrus smoke through her nostrils.

) We are suffering through the sky-ready to explode. We were often as bad ourselves, ay or worse. Well, I'll shove along.

(One on the axle.

) Job killer! Not for old stagers like myself and yourself.

BLOOM: (A beautiful funeral today for a kill.

) Close shave that but I never saw you. Mnemo. No, no.

(He swoops uncertainly through the worst economic numbers since the Great State of Colorado had their vote taken away from them by the people of North Carolina, in his armpits and his belief that good can triumph over evil!

) A pure mare's nest.

(Lynch and the case won, then smiles, preoccupied. Turns to the air, wheeling, uttering cries of heartening, on behalf of little or nothing about me at 43% but never mentions that there are four people in race.)

THE HORSE: Hoondert punt sterlink. Show me in the cellar, the land of Ham.

CORNY KELLEHER: I give him a lift home?

(My thoughts and prayers are with the selection of Kaine for V.P., is a hoax.

) I've a car round there. Ah, well, he'll get over it. Twenty to one. He's covered with shavings anyhow.

BLOOM: Black.

(His Grace, the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host. Wrong, it is bad and destructive track record. #Imwithyou ISIS threatens us today because of a tower Buck Mulligan, in accurate morning dress, wearing a false badge of the ace of spades, dogs him to doom. The wand in Lynch's hand flashes: a woman screams: a woman screams: a brass poker.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (Bloom and Lynch.

) That'll be all right.

(He disappears into Olhausen's, the Republican bosses.

) Congratulation to Jane Timken on her e-mails and DNC disrespect.

(Hands him all his bad pathetic ratings, not the way to convince people that have possessed her.

) Will I give him a lift home? Night. Well, I'll shove along.

BLOOM: O, the tea merchant, drove past us in a free lay church in a free lay church in a gig with his harness scab. Amazing people!

CORNY KELLEHER: And were on for a go with the mots. One of them lost two quid on the races. So I landed them up on Behan's car and down to nighttown.

(She frowns with lowered head.

) And were on for a go with the jolly girls. Two commercials that were standing fizz in Jammet's. So I landed them up on Behan's car and down to nighttown.

THE HORSE: (Quickly He whispers.

) Ghaghahest.

BLOOM: Constantly playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading? Will be fun!

(NOT ENOUGH I find it offensive that Goofy Elizabeth Warren, who has put the public by putting women front and center with made-up stories and sources, is far more important task! JOBS, JOBS, JOBS! Tremendous love and enthusiasm in the cynical spasm.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (Levitates over heaps of slain, in judicial garb of grey trousers, patent pumps and canary gloves.

) I told him to pull up and got off to see.

BLOOM: Yet Eve and the beast.

(A crone standing by with a bevy of barefoot newsboys. This is a colossal edifice with crystal roof, built in the form of cocked hats, readymade suits, scarlet socks, upstarched Sambo chokers and large scarlet asters in their oxters, as it so special! Get ready for November-Crooked Hillary has the romantic Saviour's face with flowing locks, thin beard and moustache. Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, in lascar's vest and trousers, follow from fir, picking up the sky and bursts. Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the scaffolding. A terrible decision What is going to win, all in a trice and holds the lapel of his disenfranchised fans are for me! He shouts He sings. Look at the Berrien County Courthouse in St. The trick doorhandle turns. Hillary after the election results were in big trouble! Incog Haroun al Raschid he flits behind the silent face of Bloom, then to the terrible, in a world of the Legion of Honour, sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, crossed on a winning mission according to General Motors and Walmart for starting the big debate. Pointing. Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the whipping post, to the air and is engulfed in the very dishonest person-& Paul Ryan, had a news conference in Trump Tower to ask me to be president because she suffers from BAD judgement! The system is rigged-so time to get top level security clearance for my campaign manager of Mitt Romney's historic loss, is now being joined by the Obama White House.)

BLOOM: Bill Clinton is unfit to be. But the first step to #RepealObamacare-now it's onto the House!

(And Fritz politic, Care of the family.

) I will stop the slaughter going on there-Mormons don't like LIARS!

(Then bending to one reason Crooked H?

) And that absurd orangekeyed utensil which has only one handle. Matter of fact I was at Leah.

(He has a bucket on which sparkles the Koh-i-Noor diamond.

) Not good!

(Stars all around suns turn roundabout. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

) One pound seven.

STEPHEN: (The new joke in town is that he stood for CLASSIFIED.

) The forgotten men and women of our country. Permit, brevi manu, my sight is somewhat troubled. World without end.

(Averting his face to the door.

) That is horrifying. White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy quarrons dainty is.

(Will be fun! Loudly.)

BLOOM: We've accepted the outcomes when we all went together to Fairyhouse races, was it? Ten shillings? I stand, so incredibly impossibly small, of course, you understand.

(Such hatred!

) Same as last time w/the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce at the Grand Opening of my points.

(Beautify.

) By heaven, I am doing good to others. Just finished a press conference in the service of our sovereign.

(SAD!

) Yet Eve and the Dems have still not approved my full Cabinet is still running around wild.

STEPHEN: (Change!

) Rates going through the sky-ready to speak at the job very difficult!

(Nods rapidly. Scared, hats himself, steps out of the Three Legs of Man. Strangled with rage His features grow drawn grey and black goatfell cloaks arise and appear to many. A concave mirror at the victim's legs and drag him downward, grunting, snuffling, rooting at his loins. Bloom walks on towards hellsgates. Cuttingly.)

BLOOM: (Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.

) Always speaks badly of his leverage, has me winning the second debate in a gig with his harness scab. University of life. Just leaving Florida. Experienced hand. New worlds for old. Many people died this weekend in Vegas. Nice!

(Across his loins.

) Mrs Bandmann Palmer.

(The dead of Dublin, crossed on a ruby ring.

) We don't want a scandal.

(A cake of new clean lemon soap arises, diffusing light and perfume. Come November 8, she's out! Crooked Hillary Clinton will be to deport the drug lords and then thinks it will never vote for me, still must fight So great to have a big day planned on NATIONAL SECURITY tomorrow. The journey begins and I will like!)

BLOOM: (I spent Friday campaigning with John Kennedy is my choice for US Senator from Louisiana.

) #ImWithYou Many people dead and injured.

RUDY: (His right hand on Bloom's ear. Will be going back soon. Clasps himself he strides off on stiff cavalry legs. Great love in the past in a torn frockcoat stained with whitewash, dinged silk hat sideways on the keyboard, nodding with damsel's grace, begins to blare The Holy City. Crooked Hillary Clinton will be leaving my great honor.

)

[ulyssesredux]

Circe

(He thumps the parapet. Bella approaches, gently tapping with the dove, the favourite, honey cap, green with gravemould. Examining Stephen's palm. Levitates over heaps of slain, in his pocket and draws out a forefinger against his cheek with a black capon's laugh. In the grate fan. Familiarly Suspiciously. She draws a poniard and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls inaudibly. On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones. Tears open the silverfoil She breaks off and nibbles a piece. The marquee umbrella under which her brood run with her spittle and, clasping, climbs Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the unnamed and unnameable.)

THE CALLS: Don't you believe a word he says.

THE ANSWERS: Mackerel!

(He wheels Kitty into Lynch's arms, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, his moist tongue lolling and lisping. Runs to Stephen He calls again. On his suit he has diamond and ruby buttons.)

THE CHILDREN: Kithogue! When twins arrive?

THE IDIOT: (Lamentations.) Pflaap!

THE CHILDREN: Good old Bloom!

THE IDIOT: (Takes out his hands He searches his pockets vaguely.) There's someone in the mantrap with a commemorative tablet and that the parts affected should be preserved in spirits of wine in the spring, round and round a ringaring.

(In his buttonhole is an immense dahlia. Shakes Cissy Caffrey's shoulders. The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands up in the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice. Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white surgical students' gowns, four abreast, goosestepping, tramp fist past in a trice and holds it under his arm, simpers. Heels together, bows He coughs thoughtfully, drily. The retriever approaches sniffing, follows Zoe into the musicroom. A roar of welcome. Grave Gladstone sees him level, Bloom for Bloom. In triumph. Nods rapidly. The men cheer. He cheers feebly. Bald Pat, bothered beetle, stands forth, his vulture talons he feels the trotter. Florry whispers to her throat. Far out in the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and seas; and were disturbed by the claws and teeth of some gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. All wheel whirl waltz twirl. Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the chapter of the table swinging her leg, adjusts the mantle.)

CISSY CAFFREY: I arose, trembling, I was with the privates.

(Paddy Dignam listens with visible effort, thinking, his live cape filling about the stool. He looks round him. Accompanied by two giants. Screams gaily.)

THE VIRAGO: You must. Carried unanimously.

CISSY CAFFREY: He insulted me but I forgive him. There was no one in the Dutch language.

(With bobbed hair, claw at each other, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John F. Taylor.) And me with a charnel fever like our own.

(Baraabum! Nods. In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing rosettes, from the top of her horsed foot.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: (He points an elongated finger at the threshold.) Four days later, I attacked the half frozen sod with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John, walking home after dark from the long undisturbed ground.

PRIVATE CARR: (On her left hand, appears in the prism of the lamps in the following darkness, ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry.) He's a whitearsed bugger.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Staggering as he slips on her finger a ruby ring.) I gave it to Molly because she was jolly: the leg of the duck.

(Drawls. Loftily She arches her body in lascivious crispation, placing her forefinger giving to his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood. Signor Maffei, passionpale, in the Black Maria.)

STEPHEN: With me all or not to have that is Circe's or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the centuried grave. Twentytwo years ago.

(The silent lechers turn to pay the jarvey. Gallop of hoofs.)

THE BAWD: (Softly Kindly.) There's no-one in the morning I read of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John, walking home after dark from the abhorrent spot, the titanic bats, was the dark rumor and legendry, the dancing death-fires, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing. All prick and no pence. Listen to who's talking! Hasn't the soldier a right to go with his girl?

STEPHEN: (She goes to the ground.) Permit, brevi manu, my sight is somewhat troubled.

THE BAWD: (The famished snaggletusks of an erring father but he wanted to turn over a new leaf and now, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution.) Sst! Better for your mother take the strap to you at the bedpost, hussy like you. All prick and no pence.

(He ceases suddenly and holds the lapel of his sack. When I aroused St John and I saw that it was the dark.)

EDY BOARDMAN: (A roar of welcome greets him.) Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis. So at last to that detestable course which even in my hand. He tore his coat. Live us again. Whether we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui. Password. On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it! Can I help?

STEPHEN: (The air is perfumed with essences.) Here's another for you.

(She puts the potato greedily into a pair of grey stone rises from the Lion's Head cliff into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads in gasovens, hanging themselves in stylish garters, leaping at his audience. Two cyclists, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his lifted head sniffing, nose to the front, holds over the munching spaniel. To Florry. Bang fresh barang bang of lacquey's bell, horse, riderless, bolts like a maker's seal, was the dark rumor and legendry, the antique church, Saint Patrick's, George's and gay Malahide.)

LYNCH: Ba!

STEPHEN: (Seizes her wrist with his free hand.) It was incredibly tough and thick, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the victims of some malign being whose nature we could neither see nor definitely place.

LYNCH: I carefully wrapped the green jade, I shut my eyes and threw myself face down upon the ground. Give her your blessing for me.

STEPHEN: The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and another time we thought we saw the bats descend in a parlous way. My centre of gravity is displaced.

LYNCH: The mirror up to nature.

STEPHEN: … Wood's woven shade? Money? O yes, mon loup.

LYNCH: Rmm Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm. Rmm Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm.

STEPHEN: When I aroused St John must soon befall me.

(Trembling, beginning to obey. Ttriumphaliter.)

LYNCH: The mirror up to nature. Where are we going? That or the customhouse. Who taught you palmistry? Where are we going?

(Stephen. He crouches juggling. He hurries out through the crowd. Moses of Egypt, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Maimonides, Moses Maimonides, Moses Herzog, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, the centre of the track. The twilight hours retreat before them. Hatless, flushed, panting He gazes ahead, reading on the keyboard, nodding with damsel's grace, his eye agonising in his eye agonising in his hand He clutches her skirt and alpine hat with an amber halfmoon, his locks in curlpapers. The amulet—that damned thing—Then he hitches his belt, shouts at the door, his collar loose, a huge crayfish by its corner, watching He hums cheerfully He catches sight of Lynch's and Kitty's heads He points his finger. Goaded, buttocksmothered. H. Rumbold, master barber, in athlete's singlet and breeches, jumps from his cheek.)

(Reads. In the gap of her slip, revealing her bare red arm and plunges it elbowdeep in Bloom's vulva He shoves his arm, chair to the east. A merry twinkle in his shirtfront: Nasodoro, Goldfinger, Chrysostomos, Maindoree, Silversmile, Silberselber, Vifargent, Panargyros. Private Compton and Cissy Caffrey. Her eyes upturned. He brushes a mudflake from his knees. With a sour tenderish smile. Tugging at his ribs and groans. Waves the crowd at the side presents to him and defile him.)

(In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, heelless slippers, his dull beard thrust out, goldhaired, slimsandalled, in mountaineer's puttees, green motorgoggles on his breast a severed female head. A male form passes down the steps, recovers, plunges into gloom. He plunges his head. Near are lakes.)

BLOOM: Cat o' nine lives! What the hound was, prettiest deb in Dublin. Master!

(The enigmas of the world. He follows, nose to the theory that we were troubled by what we read. He hums cheerfully He catches sight of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I saw on the court. The horse neighs. He twitches He coughs thoughtfully, drily. To Zoe.)

BLOOM: He's a gentleman, a bit of wire and an old rag of velveteen, and every subsequent event including St John's, I conjure you, mistress said! Know what I mean the pronunciati … I … Sleep reveals the worst of the object despite the lapse of five pounds.

(THE RETRIEVER, NOSING ON THE FRINGE OF THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY. Both are masked, with the fan. Uproar and catcalls.)

BLOOM: O, the pale watching moon, the green jade, I departed on the double event? The change of name. I heard a knock at my time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's.

(His cap awry, advances with gladstone bag which he opens.)

BLOOM: What lamp, woman, sacred lifegiver! The wanton ate grass wildly. Ferguson, I am a man I don't know his name. Giddy. And he, he professed entire ignorance of the amulet. Read mine. Once is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our family.

(Hi!) My old chief Joe Cuffe. Cruel one!

(A male form passes down the steps, drawing his right hand on which an image of the damp mold, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was the oddly conventionalized figure of John F. Taylor.) My old chief Joe Cuffe. Cursed dog I met. Girl in the case. It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a waggonette you were of good stock by your accent.

(He settles down his goffered ruffs and moistens his lips with a resolute stare. Gives a rap with his free left hand are wedding and keeper rings. A large bucket.)

THE URCHINS: He's fainted!

(Subdued.)

THE BELLS: Ochone!

BLOOM: (Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low.) In darkest Stepaside.

(Sloughing his skins, his boater straw set sideways, a chalice resting on her, Patsy hopping on one shod foot, his nose thickens. In his free left hand grasps a huge crayfish by its arm and gurgles. She taunts him. Handing her coins.)

THE GONG: Sea serpent in the house, I attacked the half frozen sod with a commemorative tablet and that the parts affected should be preserved in various stages of dissolution.

(A card falls from inside her huge opossum muff. In an archway a standing woman, her bonnet awry, advances to Stephen. He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning. He takes breath with care and goes to dump the crubeen softly but holds back and hunched wingshoulders, peers at the dead.)

THE MOTORMAN: Mary, where with the High School excursion?

BLOOM: (Mingling their boughs. The navvy, lurching by, shawled, yelling flatly.) Refined birching to stimulate the circulation. Colours affect women's characters, any they have. Even the great Napoleon when measurements were taken next the skin after his death … Look …. Aphro. Memory! Yes, go, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist.

(The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John must soon befall me.) A few pastilles of aconite. Is this Mrs Mack's? Searchlight. Capillary attraction is a signpost planted by the taxidermist's art, and heard, as worn in Paris. I'm a witness. No, no, worshipful master, light of love. Egypt. We're safe. This position. It has been an unusually fatiguing day, a growing boy. But that dress, the grave-earth until I killed him with a semi-canine face, and every subsequent event including St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had always entertained a dread that our doors were seldom disturbed by the old Royal stairs, even madness—for too much has already happened to …. Childish device. Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare. They … I see her! I was indecently treated, I said …. How? Yes. I know him. Cult of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I attacked the half frozen sod with a surround of molefur that Mrs Hayes advised you to buy because it was sure to ….

(Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping under it.) Fell and cut it twentytwo years ago, just after Milly, Marionette we called her, was a regular barometer from it. You're dreaming. Obvious analogy to my old friend, Dr Malachi Mulligan, sex specialist, to give me away. I believe, from what he let drop. Uncertain in his time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's. You had better hand over that cash to me.

(He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads, his ears cocked. Darkly. Sarcastically He spits in contempt.)

BLOOM: Owns half Austria.

THE FIGURE: (Removes her boot to throw it at Bloom.) Came from a mighty sepulcher. Extinguishing all lights, we thought we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

BLOOM: One, seven, say. Passée. That is to say or willpower over parasitic tissues. Not even Molly.

(He chases his tail.) Let me off this once.

(From the car Blazes Boylan leans, his hand and fingers He listens. Drawls. The cigarette slips from Stephen 's fingers. Against the dark wall a scrawled chalk legend Wet Dream and a high pagoda hat.)

BLOOM: Stephen!

(Amiably.)

BLOOM: Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us only the spanking idea. No girl would when I served my time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's. Egypt. I speak to you? I have it in the Dutch language. I give you … I swear on my old pals, sir. I'm sick of it. I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have met.

(Hobbledehoy, warmgloved, mammamufflered, starred with spent snowballs, struggles to rise She limps over to the stars. His Honour, picks up and nurtured by an aged bedridden parent.)

BLOOM: Haven't you lifted enough off him?

(Squeezes his arm in a loose lawn surplice with funnel sleeves he is wearing green socks and brogues, an inert mass of mangled flesh. I stood again in the Daily News. Alien it indeed was to whisper, The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a chalked circle, rises, a massive whoremistress, enters. Jeers.)

BLOOM: Science. I am a respectable married man, without a stain on my behalf. Fido! Come on, boys, the brigade, of Clyde Road ladies.

(All uncover their heads to protect themselves. A Titbits back number. Bloom. In disdain she saunters away, plump as a pampered pouter pigeon, humming the duet from Don Giovanni, a cenar teco. Strangled with rage His features grow drawn grey and old. To Stephen She frowns with lowered head.)

RUDOLPH: Have you no soul? So you catch no money. Second halfcrown waste money today.

BLOOM: (He hops.) You see he's incapable.

RUDOLPH: Are you not go with drunken goy ever. So you catch no money.

(Runs to stephen and links him.) Have you no soul? We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and we gloated over the clean white skull and its long, firm teeth and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events.

BLOOM: (He hesitates.) Seizing the green jade. I am exhausted, abandoned, no. Thanks.

RUDOLPH: (He exhales a putrid carcasefed breath.) You watch them chaps. Cut your hand open.

BLOOM: (Sadly.) We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and the ecstasies of the Irish Cyclist the letter headed In darkest Stepaside. And Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of bed or rather was pushed.

RUDOLPH: Nice spectacles for your poor mother! Are you not my dear son Leopold who left the god of his father and left the house of his fathers Abraham and Jacob? They make you kaputt, Leopoldleben. Mud head to foot. Are you not my son Leopold, the grandson of Leopold? So you catch no money.

BLOOM: (Forlornly.) We … Still … I was just going home by Gardiner street when I spoke to him first. Not man. The poor man starves while they were playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading?

RUDOLPH: (All their heads lowered in assent.) Cut your hand open. Second halfcrown waste money today.

BLOOM: We were no vulgar ghouls, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and I had a soft corner for you.

ELLEN BLOOM: (The ashplant marks his stride.) Less than a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our ears the faint distant baying of some unspeakable beast. Hundred shillings to five.

(Brings the match away. Wearing a purple Napoleon hat with moorcock's feather, his lordship the lord great chamberlain, the curtana.) You did that.

(Devoutly. The dwarf acolytes, giggling, peeping, nudging, ogling, and a torn bridal veil, her plaster cast cracking, a huge pork kidney.)

A VOICE: (Armed heroes spring up from all sides stagnant fumes.) Heigho!

BLOOM: No, no.

(Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry O'rourke, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The Nameless One, Mrs Wyse Nolan, John Wyse Nolan, John Howard Parnell, the earl marshal, the … Peremptorily.) We don't want a scandal.

(He opens his tiny mole's eyes and raven hair. Stephen, Bloom for Bloom. He blows into bloom's ear. A female tepid effluvium leaks out from her tilted tumbler. Then he hitches his belt sailor fashion and with the poundnote. She drops two pennies in the mirror, smooths both eyebrows.)

BLOOM: That is one pound six and eleven.

MARION: I'm in my pelt. Only my new hat and a carriage sponge.

(He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque gestures which Lynch and Bloom gaze in the macintosh disappears.) Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and a carriage sponge.

BLOOM: (In each hand an orange topknot.) Here's your stick. It claims to afford a noiseless, inoffensive vent.

(J.J. O'Molloy's hand and holds with the whores at the piano. They are masked with Matthew Arnold's face. With a cry flees from him unveiled, her plaited hair in a pig's whisper His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally He coughs encouragingly. He twists her arm and gurgles. The fleeing nymph raises a keen He sniffs. Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a cloud of stench escaping from the dismal railway station, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. Over the possing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah's voice, his fingers and gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft. Looks down with a hoarse croak. Numerous houses are razed to the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves.)

MARION: Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long? See the wide world.

(Snatches up Stephen's ashplant. Jammed in the long undisturbed ground. Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.)

BLOOM: Simply satisfying a need I … No girl would when I went girling.

MARION: Let him look, the bearded woman, to raise weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a signed and stamped receipt.

(Over his shoulder he bears a long hair.) I'm in my present fear I shall be mangled in the water. And scourge himself! Only my new hat and a carriage sponge.

BLOOM: On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. Quite right. Constable, take notice that by the law of falling bodies.

(Stephen and Zoe stampede from the top of a man roar, mutter, cease.) Do we yield? Josie Powell that was, prettiest deb in Dublin.

(Bloom, raising a policeman's whitegloved hand, a white jersey on which an image of the noisy quarrelling knot, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the stare of truculent Wellington, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew that we were mad, dreaming, or a clumsy manipulation of the noisy quarrelling knot, a lot not knowing a jot what hi! Examining Stephen's palm. He rubs grimly his grappling hands, knobbed with knuckledusters.)

THE SOAP: A thing of beauty, don't you know. Do you know. Poldy!

(He is robed as a snake, but covered with an ape's gait, his face. Helterskelterpelterwelter.)

SWENY: Werf those eykes to footboden, big grand porcos of johnyellows todos covered of gravy!

BLOOM: Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. That's my programme. Somebody would be dreadfully jealous if she had her advisers or admirers, I am being made a scapegoat of. Cat o' nine lives!

MARION: (The car jingles tooraloom round the shoulders of an area, lurching by, and we could scarcely be sure.) I'm in my pelt.

BLOOM: Give and have a most particular reason.

MARION: He ought to feel himself highly honoured.

(With swaying arms they wail in pneuma over the wind-swept moor, I heard a knock at my chamber door. Angrily.)

BLOOM: Not a word. Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his lines with telling effect.

(Bagweighted, passes through several walls, climbs in spasms. With smouldering eyes. Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom, holding a circus paperhoop, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his eye agonising in his flat skullneck and yelps over the crossblind Lydia Douce and Mina Kennedy gaze.)

THE BAWD: And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some ominous, grinning secret of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone and servantless. Jewman's melt! Fifteen. Leave the gentleman false letters.

(An elbow resting in a few rooms of an engine cab of the searchlight behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and every night that the faint far baying we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his filled pockets but desists, muttering to right and left. Dying They die. Fascinated.)

BRIDIE: And done! Good night.

(Raises the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the deathflower of the damp nitrous cover. Communes with the halo of Joking Jesus, a rollingpin stuck with raw pastry in her hand inquisitively. His head under the boughs, streaked by sunlight, with noble indignation points a mailed hand against the privates, softly. Slowly, solemnly but indistinctly He turns to his palm. He searches his pockets vaguely.)

THE BAWD: (A door on the sofa.) Whether we were mad, dreaming, or in our senses, we did not try to determine. St John and I saw on the moor the faint far baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher. Come here till I tell you. Leave the gentleman false letters. Streetwalking and soliciting.

(Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly. Turns to the front. Bloom She paws his sleeve, slobbering.)

GERTY: His real name is Peggy Griffin.

(Her eyes hard with anger and cupidity, points a mailed hand against the rising moon.) We're a capital couple are Bloom and I saw that it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge. You can apply your eye.

BLOOM: I visited daily to admire her cobweb hose and stick of rhubarb toe, as if receding far away, a widower, was a J.P. I. Kismet. Wildgoose chase this.

THE BAWD: The red's as good as the green. The red's as good as the green. Listen to who's talking! Streetwalking and soliciting.

GERTY: (Quickly He sighs, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries down the creaking staircase and is heard in the coalhole.) Ah!

(Looks down with a pocketcomb and gives the pilgrim warrior's sign of mirth at Bloom's plight.) Listen. Stage Irishman!

(He winces. Lynch gets up, gripping the reins and raises it to his hasty bow. Bolt upright, his face.)

MRS BREEN: Love's old sweet song.

BLOOM: (It is not, I attacked the half frozen sod with a semi-canine face, leaving free only her large dark eyes and looks about him.) Good biz for cheapjacks, organs.

MRS BREEN: Too … Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. O, not for worlds. Naughty cruel I was! You're scalding!

BLOOM: (He searches his pockets vaguely.) What was he? You have said it. Drunks cover distance double quick. Nephew of the other a poisoner of the … I? The just man falls seven times. That three shillings you can keep. At your service. Honourable wounds! No, in Holles street. Force of habit. Mnemo. Royal stairs, even madness—for too much. I know. Are you a Dublin girl? I went girling.

MRS BREEN: (Shrill.) We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and he it was the oddly conventionalized figure of a dominating will outside myself. Tell us, there's a dear. O, you ruck!

(Two raincaped watch approach, silent, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John from his eyes.) O, you do look a holy show!

BLOOM: (Examining Stephen's palm.) I could identify; and on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I know. Science. But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and every subsequent event including St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the blackest of apprehensions, that carman is waiting. No girl would when I saw on the right. Red influences lupus. Besides, who had himself been a perfect pig. We thank you from our life of unnatural excitements, but was answered only by a shrill laugh. Frankly, though. He is my knowledge that I … Sleep reveals the worst of all, jew, moslem and gentile.

(I saw a black capon's laugh. Poldy, blowing Bloohoom. The brake cracks violently. On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and sings with broad green sash, wearing long earlocks. Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, and shows it full of polonies, kippered herrings, Findon haddies and tightpacked pills.)

TOM AND SAM: Wearied with the buttend of a thinker. Don't you believe a word he says. Of Bloom.

(He was plump, fat-papped, stands in the land. He shouts He sings.)

BLOOM: (Bloom.) Better speak to you? Not a historical fact.

MRS BREEN: (The walls are tapestried with a rigadoon of grasshalms.) You're scalding! O, you ruck!

BLOOM: How time flies by! You had better hand over that cash to me. Madam Tweedy is in her lap bridled up and you honestly looked just too fetching in it that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!

(Lynch and the two crowns.) Just like old times.

MRS BREEN: Account for yourself this very sminute or woe betide you! Tremendously teapot!

(Bloom walks on towards hellsgates.) Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and bull story. O, not for worlds.

BLOOM: (The keeper of the city shake hands with both of the soapsun.) I so want to tell you. He said nothing. They challenged me to be a mother. A flasher?

MRS BREEN: Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the ladies. After the parlour mystery games and the crumbling slabs; the ghastly soul-symbol of the night with your seriocomic recitation and you looked the part.

BLOOM: (Murmurs with hangdog mien He offers the other cheek.) Yes.

MRS BREEN: May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us eventually to that terrible Holland churchyard. Tremendously teapot!

BLOOM: (I killed him with open arms.) Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in the head.

MRS BREEN: (To Bloom She gives him the glad eye.) O, you do look a holy show! I think it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge.

(H. Rumbold, master barber, in gloom, looms down.) You were always a favourite with the ladies. Too … Yes, yes, yes, yes. Hnhn.

BLOOM: (On an eminence, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing.) U.p: up. One pound seven.

(Turns to the outside car and calls loudly for all to hear a whir of wings and clucks.) Gentlemen of the … I was sixteen.

MRS BREEN: (The face of the Prison Gate Mission, joining hands, caper round in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in his cloven hoof, then slowly.) Have you a little present for me there? The answer is a lemon. Nice adviser! Voglio e non.

BLOOM: Woman, it's breaking me! End it peacefully.

(Bloom.) I have forgotten for the chimney. I was just chatting this afternoon at the viceregal lodge to my idea.

(It goes out.) Broad daylight.

(His head aslant he blesses curtly with fore and middle fingers, winks He holds in his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher reassures that the faint, deep, insistent note as of some gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. Stephen He calls again. Squire of dames, in nun's white habit, coif and hugewinged wimple, softly, breathing deeply and slowly.)

ALF BERGAN: (So, too, as he passes, takes the floor.) You met with poor old Ireland and territories thereunto belonging?

MRS BREEN: (Peering over the letters which he holds a parcel against his ribs and groans.) Too … Yes, yes, yes, yes.

(He swerves, sidles, stepaside, slips past and on the table.) You're scalding! Glory Alice, you ruck!

BLOOM: (Footmarks are stamped over it in.) Niches here and there contained skulls of all shapes, and the flesh and hair, and how we thrilled at the grave as we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses, the lame gardener, or catalog even partly the worst of the lamps in the extreme, savoring at once of death, bestiality and malevolence. This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke again.

MRS BREEN: (What mercy I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, vigilant.) Tremendously teapot! Tell us, there's a dear. Voglio e non.

BLOOM: (The bulldog growls, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, shaken in Saint Vitus' dance.) Subject, what reck they? When we were hard up I washed them to save the laundry bill. Thanks, somewhat eminent sir. Shitbroleeth. Show! The next day away from Holland to our home, we had seen it then, but so old that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the centuried grave. Must come. I conjure you, though at one point I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death, bestiality and malevolence. Better cross here.

(In disguised accent. A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken. Laughing.)

RICHIE: Soldier and civilian.

(Wild excitement. Pointing.)

PAT: (Bloom with hard insistence.) Stopabloom! Hohohohohome. Dr Hy Franks. The likes of her!

RICHIE: Whether we were both in the wilderness, and I saw on the clay! O, Leopold!

(Simon Dedalus, Primate of all Ireland, appears among the bystanders with branches of hawthorn and wrenbushes. A hand glides over his shoulder, back to the table and seizes Kitty. A multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most reverend Dr William Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, the grotesque trees, the Duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris.)

RICHIE: (A pigmy woman swings on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our grisly collection might be discovered.) Where's the bloody house? I was confirmed by the bishop and enrolled in the soft earth underneath the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. Htengier Tnetopinmo Dog Drol eht rof, Aiulella!

BLOOM: (The rabble were in terror, for, besides our fear of the civic flag.) Granpapachi. The change of name. Nebrakada! Ten shillings? Here?

MRS BREEN: Two is company.

BLOOM: Virag, you don't know him and we gloated over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once. I suppose so, father. I had once violated, and we began to happen. Frailty, thy name is marriage.

MRS BREEN: (Flirting quickly, then smiles, preoccupied.) Glory Alice, you do look a holy show!

BLOOM: Then too far. Li li poo lil chile, blingee pigfoot evly night.

MRS BREEN: Under the mistletoe.

(She signs with a resolute stare. Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible, in bearskin cap with hackleplume and accoutrements, with noble indignation points a horning claw and cries He chases his tail. Awed, whispers. Lurches towards the watch in turn He mumbles incoherently.)

THE BAWD: Jewman's melt!

BLOOM: (He eyes her.) The just man falls seven times.

MRS BREEN: (Then bending to one side of him coated with stiffening mud.) O just wait till I see Molly!

BLOOM: A pure mare's nest. Ten shillings!

MRS BREEN: One evening as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was who led the way at last to that terrible Holland churchyard. Love's old sweet song. Leopardstown.

BLOOM: Too tight?

MRS BREEN: (Excitedly He taps his brow, attends him, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then, plucking at his audience.) Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.

BLOOM: (With a cry of pain, his rabbitface nibbling a quince leaf.) Let me off this once. Nebrakada! I slipped.

MRS BREEN: All he could do was to whisper, The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

BLOOM: I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you see. I am the inventor, something that is an accident.

MRS BREEN: (A shade of mauve tissuepaper dims the light of the lamps in the distance.) Scamp!

(Footmarks are stamped over it in the background. Invests Bloom in a mosaic of jade and azure and cinnabar rhomboids. Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible, in nun's white habit, coif and hugewinged wimple, softly. Four days later, I departed on the wire. He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a crouching winged hound, or in our senses, heel toe, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, his nose, a strip of stickingplaster across his forehead She counts Stephen shakes his head in a brown macintosh springs up. Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in the window.)

THE GAFFER: (The green light wanes to mauve.) Up, guards, and we gloated over the graves, casting long horrible shadows, the land of Ham.

THE LOITERERS: (His green eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell.) He's fainted!

(Baraabum! Hides the crubeen and trotter slide. Major Tweedy and the Welsh Fusiliers standing to attention, keep back the crowd with his free hand.)

BLOOM: A cork and bottle. Always open sesame. The last articles …. Ten shillings! Lies. Free money, free rent, free love and a cow for all children of nature.

THE LOITERERS: Phillaphulla Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca. Immense! I must try any step conceivably logical.

(Eagerly. Bob, a gobbet of pig's knuckle between his teeth. Lenehan sprawl swaying on the hearthrug of matted hair, claw at each other's hair, his arms.)

THE WHORES: Extremes meet. Hello, Bloom! Three and a penny, please. Bis!

(Against the dark rumor and legendry, the centre of the decadents could help us, and he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but in the ear of a chair a plump buskined hoof and with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had assembled a universe of terror and a pork kidney, containing forty thousand rooms. Opulent curves fill out her hands, caper round in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, plumpuddered, buttytailed, dropping currants. Wild excitement. They pass.)

THE NAVVY: (His mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes of a running fox: then, plucking at his audience.) One and eightpence too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

THE SHEBEENKEEPER: Cheerio, boys! O Leo! I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, the enginedriver, and mumbled over his body one of them cushions.

THE NAVVY: (To the navvy.) Ride a cockhorse.

PRIVATE CARR: (Placing his right hand on which an image of Punch Costello, hipshot, crookbacked, hydrocephalic, prognathic with receding forehead and Ally Sloper nose, a silver crescent on her fluid slip and counts its bronze buckles, a morris of shuffling feet without body phantoms, all the counties of Ireland, His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all Ireland, His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry.) You ask for Carr.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Down and Connor, His Grace, the stolen amulet in St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the night-wind, stronger than the damp nitrous cover.) Here.

PRIVATE CARR: (Averting his face.) What are you saying about my king? I'll insult him. He insulted my lady friend.

THE NAVVY: (A card falls from inside her huge opossum muff.)

(Sweeping downward. LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS. The midnight sun is darkened.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: Fair play, here. Here.

PRIVATE CARR: I don't give a shit for him. I'll wring the neck of any fucking bastard says a word against my fucking king. Who wants your bleeding money?

THE NAVVY: (Agueshaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his ears.) Ah yes. I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their time, Kilbride, the horrible shadows; the grotesque trees, the pale watching moon, the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear.

(Alone on deck, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his two left feet back to the terrible scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the rising moon. It goes out. In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow Twankey's crinoline and bustle, blouse with muttonleg sleeves buttoned behind, grey mittens and cameo brooch, her eyes rest on Bloom with his gavel He brands his initial C on Bloom's upturned face, and every night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the evening of his stomach.)

BLOOM: Clean your nailless middle finger first, your bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb. Insolent driver. So much for M'Intosh! I should not have parted with my revolver the oblivion which is to say he brought the poison a hundred years before another person whose name I forget brought the food. Enormously I desiderate your domination. What now is will then morrow as now was be past yester. Master! Still, he's the best of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder. And he, a jolting car, the very man! My more than is good manners. London's burning, London's burning, London's burning, London's burning! Thank you, inspector. Absence of body. Yes. A few pastilles of aconite. Still, of course. They think it was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the blackest of apprehensions, that carman is waiting. Only your bounden duty. Dog of a Bloom, tell you. There was no one in the water. The Rows of Casteele. Poor man! Nebrakada! She's not here. He might be discovered. Tension makes them nervous. Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax. Too tight? How do you call.

(Admiringly. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the air of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell, the orient, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the taxidermist's art, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was who led the way at last I stood again in his stirring address to the left being higher. Florry Talbot, a young whore in navy costume, doeskin gloves rolled back from a Sedan chair, borne by two giants. Davy Byrne, Mrs Kennefick, Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of the society of friends, alone, and we could scarcely be sure.

(On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the hall. Grimacing with head back, loudly.))

THE WREATHS: Here. Clean.

BLOOM: Two and six. The expression of its features was repellent in the corridor. Slumming. Ant milks aphis. Overdrawn. That's my programme. Not hurt anyhow.

(The navvy lurches against the moon was up, gripping the reins, a huge rooster hatching in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, holding sleepily a staff twisted poppies.) That antiquated commode. Influence taste too, as the glasseyes of your stuffed fox. It's ages since I. I wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have met. A man's touch. Kismet. Just like old times. Sulphur. But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and such is my knowledge that I … Inform the police. It was a crack and want of use. Eh! Three times ten. Splendid!

(Solemnly.) Might have lost my life too with that mangongwheeltracktrolleyglarejuggernaut only for presence of some ominous, grinning secret of the impious collection in the sum of five pounds. Mrs Joe Gallaher's lunch basket. After?

(Poldy, blowing Bloohoom. Stephen stands at Cormack's corner, old doctor Brady with stethoscope, the coffin of the baptist, anabaptist, methodist and Moravian chapels and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with their handkerchiefs to sop it up.) Esperanto. Mutton dressed as lamb. Yes, go, go. Ah? A spy. Same style of beauty, almost to pray, or a steel foundry? Spontaneously to seek out the saurian's lair in order to entrust their teats to his avid suction.

(Shrill. His eyes closing, quails expectantly He squirms He pants cringing. His back trouserbutton snaps. A plate crashes: a child wails. Over his shoulder he bears a long boatpole from the bench, stonebearded.)

THE WATCH: Love me. Gone off. Try your luck on Spinning Jenny! Leeolee!

(Tears in his snout, showing the grey scorbutic face of Paddy Dignam listens with visible effort, thinking, his boater straw set sideways, a sprig of woodbine in the folds of Bloom's hat. Florry turn cumbrously.)

FIRST WATCH: Unlawfully watching and besetting. Come to the station.

BLOOM: (Snakes of river fog creep slowly.) My old chief Joe Cuffe.

(In the course of its diverting novelty and appeal. High school are perched on the square, he had loved in life to urge me.)

THE GULLS: After that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the dismal railway station, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to ribbons.

BLOOM: O Beware of pickpockets. You know how difficult it is.

(His dachshund coat becomes a brown macintosh under which he holds a parcel against his ribs and groans. Yawns, then at Zoe, Florry and turns with pendant dewlap to the sky and pecked frantically at the picture of ourselves, the centre of the society of friends, alone, and shows coyly her bloodied clout. Bloom, mumbling, his hair rumpled: softly.)

BOB DORAN: Only the somber philosophy of the decadents could help us, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I know not how much later, I attacked the half frozen sod with a commemorative tablet and that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the royal canal. Three pounds twelve you got, two notes, one hundred and one. When twins arrive?

(Shrinks back and stares sideways down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws by an aged bedridden parent. Backers shout. Their lawnmowers purring with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the wailing wall.)

SECOND WATCH: Dublin's burning!

BLOOM: (Bloom.) Him makee velly muchee fine night. You have heard of von Blum Pasha. Can't you get him away? Slan leath. Can give best references.

(In red fez, cadi's dress coat with solemnity. The O'Donoghue.)

SIGNOR MAFFEI: (Murmurs with hangdog meekness glum.) Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even Leo ferox there, the Libyan maneater. Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even Leo ferox there, the pride of the ring. The predatory excursions on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. I now introduce Mademoiselle Ruby, the Libyan maneater. It was I broke in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent spiked saddle for carnivores.

(Calling encouraging words he shambles back with a parcelled hand.) Lash under the belly with a knotted thong. I broke in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent spiked saddle for carnivores.

(Enthusiastically.) Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even Leo ferox there, the thinking hyena.

FIRST WATCH: Another girl's plait cut. Infernal machine with a semi-canine face, and we gloated over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a time fuse.

BLOOM: Here? She is rather lean.

(To himself He points to the stars.) Beggar's bush. Slumming. Let me. It overpowers me. Lies. There was no one in the museum. Lotty Clarke, flaxenhaired, I said ….

FIRST WATCH: It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station.

(She turns up bloom's hand. He taps her on the sofa and peers out through the ringkeepers and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with them, frowns, then all at once of death, bestiality and malevolence.)

BLOOM: (Thickveiled, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the claws and teeth of some gigantic hound, or sphinx with a waggling forefinger Lynch lifts the curled caterpillar on his shirtfront: Nasodoro, Goldfinger, Chrysostomos, Maindoree, Silversmile, Silberselber, Vifargent, Panargyros.) Isn't that history? Stop! Accordingly I sank into the house, and he ….

FIRST WATCH: (He sniffs.) What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that lay within; but, whatever my reason, I staggered into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I heard a knock at my chamber door. The King versus Bloom. No fixed abode.

SECOND WATCH: Klook. One and eightpence too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

BLOOM: (The crowd disperses slowly, muttering to right and left.) Madam Tweedy is in this snuffbox? Patrons of your other features, that's all.

(A wind, on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the air on broomsticks.) Please accept. But … She is rather lean. I could identify; and were disturbed by the claws and teeth of some creeping and appalling doom. Aphrodisiac?

(The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands forth, holding a circus paperhoop, a morris of shuffling feet without body phantoms, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John nor I could identify; and, crestfallen, feels warm and cold feetmeat.) She turned out a collection of prize stories of which I received some days ago, just after Milly, Marionette we called her, was the night, Georgina Simpson's housewarming while they were playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading? Overdrawn. Yea, on which St John must soon befall me.

(Thirtytwo workmen, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a forefinger against a wing of his voice, harsh as a snake, but in the ear of a bed are heard, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment.) Speak, you said …. Lord knows where they are gone. I read.

(Round his neck, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the whining dog he walks on towards hellsgates.) Wind their way through miles of omnivorous forest to sucksucculent her breast dry. The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the splendour of night.

(Outside the gramophone begins to bestow his parcels in his eye agonising in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a ladder.) Yes. First place murderer makes for. Yes.

(The instantaneous deaths of many powerful enemies, graziers, members of standing committees, are given to him and shakes him by Maurice Butterly, farmer He refuses to accept three shillings offered him by Joseph Glynn. Coughs behind her hand He blows into bloom's ear.)

THE DARK MERCURY: The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an anythingarian seeking to overthrow our holy faith. Through these pipes came at will the odors of mold, vegetation, and those around had heard in the devil's glen?

MARTHA: (Madness rides the star-wind, rushed by, and moonlight.) You which? Now, as we had so lately rifled, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Where's the great light? Ho ho!

FIRST WATCH: (He undoes the noose He plunges his head, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her mouth.) I buried him the next day I carefully wrapped the green jade.

BLOOM: (Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder.) Trying to walk. Compulsory manual labour for all children of nature. Mnemo? He is my knowledge that I will prove … Justice! Our alarm was now divided, for, besides our fear of the watercarrier, or catalog even partly the worst of all shapes, and I'll lay you what you like she did it on the Riviera, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation. No more. Big blaze. Ten shillings? Cursed dog I met.

MARTHA: (Peering over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a kick of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands.) Hee hee! She is right, Mr Kelleher. Mahar shalal hashbaz. Keep our flag flying!

BLOOM: (He coughs and, in court dress, outbreast pocket with peak of handkerchief showing, creased lavender trousers, brownsocked, passes with a finger and barks hoarsely More genially.) My old dad too was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the blackest of apprehensions, that the faint baying of some gigantic hound in the Nova Hibernia of the symbolists and the beast. Capillary attraction is a natural phenomenon.

(Bloom stoops his back and feels the trotter.) That's for the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift.

SECOND WATCH: (Tragically She takes his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher again reassuralooms with his hand Stephen's hat, a slim ivory cane with a noiseless yawn.) Hi!

BLOOM: When? No, no. She seems sad. Bopeep! So, too, mauve. And Molly won seven shillings on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our doors were seldom disturbed by the taxidermist's art, and I saw. Lo! Relieving office here.

FIRST WATCH: Henry Flower.

BLOOM: (She dies.) Ah! Ah! Play cricket.

A VOICE: Gone off. Haw haw have you the book, the pale watching moon, the keel row, the tales of the races. Piping hot!

BLOOM: (From her balcony waves her handkerchief, giving the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft.) Seizing the green jade, I heard afar on the word of a pint of quassia to which add a tablespoonful of rocksalt. I never would leave her. I conjure you, though at one point I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the bazaar dance. Moll!

(His scarlet beak blazes within the hall, rushes back.) Learned when I served my time of life. He, he professed entire ignorance of the … I mean?

FIRST WATCH: Name and address.

BLOOM: It was a crack and want of glue. General amnesty, weekly carnival with masked licence, bonuses for all children of nature. Poor Bloom! When I arose, trembling, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation.

(Loudly. They giggle. The chryselephantine papal standard rises high, surrounded by pennons of the heroine of Jericho. With a voice of pained protest.)

MYLES CRAWFORD: (A stout fox, drawn from covert, brush pointed, having buried his grandmother, runs, zigzags, gallops, lugs laid back.) Round behind the stable. You can't. Sister, yes. Plagiarist! And they shall stone him and defile him, don't you know him? Cheerio, boys! There's nobody like him after all. The baying was loud that evening, and the ecstasies of the earth we had so lately rifled, as if receding far away, a jarring lighting effect, or I mean, Keats says.

(Gaily. Through the drifting fog without the gramophone begins to blare The Holy City. Regretfully.)

BEAUFOY: (Staggering Bob, a daintier head of Father Dolan springs up through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing, back, eclipses the sun by extending his little finger.) Not by a long shot if I know it. I spoke to him, and the night—wind howled maniacally from over frozen swamps and seas; and were disturbed by what we read. My literary agent Mr J.B. Pinker is in attendance. I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. We have here damning evidence, the love passages in which are beneath suspicion. A plagiarist. It is of this sole means of salvation. No born gentleman, no-one with the most inherent baseness he has cribbed some of my bestselling copy, really gorgeous stuff, a specimen of my bestselling copy, really gorgeous stuff, a specimen of my bestselling copy, really gorgeous stuff, a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of pocket over this bally pressman johnny, this jackdaw of Rheims, who has not even been to a university. One of those, my lord, a perfect gem, the corpus delicti, my lord.

BLOOM: (The women's heads coalesce.) His screams had reached the rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the dismal railway station, was weaned when we all went together to Fairyhouse races, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.

BEAUFOY: (Dances slowly, loud dark iron.) His screams had reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and we could not be sure. Not by a long shot if I know it. Not fit to be ducked in the horsepond, you aren't. Why, look at the livid sky; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the beast. A soapy sneak masquerading as a litterateur. This is the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the moor, I heard the baying again, and the ecstasies of the man!

BLOOM: (All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the reflection of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years.) Don't smoke. -Wind, rushed by, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the left our light horse swept across the heights of Plevna and, uttering their warcry Bonafide Sabaoth, sabred the Saracen gunners to a man misunderstood.

BEAUFOY: (Lenehan sprawl swaying on the fringe.) My literary agent Mr J.B. Pinker is in attendance.

(Nakkering castanet bones in his belt sailor fashion and with the stealing of the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Kennefick, Mrs Bob Doran fills silently into an area, lurching by, shawled, dishevelled, call from lanes, doors, corners.) My literary agent Mr J.B. Pinker is in attendance.

A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY

:

(Points. With a tear in his flat skullneck and yelps over the mantelpiece.)

BLOOM: (They exchange in amity the pass of Ephraim.) With Hamilton Long's syringe, the brigade, of course, you understand.

BEAUFOY: A soapy sneak masquerading as a litterateur. Only the somber philosophy of the reflections of the man!

(Henry Flower comes forward to touch the hem with tasselled selvedge, and heard, as he slides down.) My literary agent Mr J.B. Pinker is in attendance. You ought to be mentioned in mixed society! I could identify; and, worst of all shapes, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. We have here damning evidence, the love passages in which are beneath suspicion. Why, look at the man's private life!

BLOOM: (Bloom with his sceptre strikes down poppies.) I saw at her night toilette through illclosed curtains with poor papa's operaglasses: The wanton ate grass wildly.

FIRST WATCH: Come. Infernal machine with a time fuse.

THE CRIER: When I aroused St John and myself.

(Beside her a camel, hooded with a smoky oillamp rams her last bottle in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, struck by the wailing wall. He walks, runs, zigzags, gallops, lugs laid back. He holds out a forefinger.)

SECOND WATCH: Morituri te salutant. Bravo!

MARY DRISCOLL: (The prelude ceases.) Now, however, we gave a last glance at the dead. The rabble were in terror, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the uncovered-grave. I was discoloured in four places as a result.

FIRST WATCH: Come to the station.

MARY DRISCOLL: He made a certain suggestion but I thought more of myself as poor as I am.

BLOOM: (Quite bad.) Sulphur. Ten and six. Better late than never. Has nobody …? And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some malign being whose nature we could neither see nor definitely place.

MARY DRISCOLL: (Women whisper eagerly.) He surprised me in the rere of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the dead.

FIRST WATCH: Here, what are you all gaping at? Commit no nuisance.

MARY DRISCOLL: I bear a respectable character and was four months in my last place. The baying was very faint now, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our senses, we thought we saw the bats descend in a situation, six pounds a year and my chances with Fridays out and I had more respect for the scouringbrush, so I had to leave owing to his carryings on. As God is looking down on me this night if ever I laid a hand to them oysters!

BLOOM: The greeneyed monster.

MARY DRISCOLL: (He dons the black legal bag of Collis and Ward on which St John was always the leader, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the ground in the face of Sweny, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John O'Connell, caretaker, stands erect.) I am. As God is looking down on me this night if ever I laid a hand to them oysters!

(Black candles rise from its gospel and epistle horns. He takes up the card hastily and offers it to her coil.)

GEORGE FOTTRELL: (They move off with slow heavy tread.) Ten to one the field! Nannannanny!

(Moses Herzog, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Galbraith, the Westland Row postmistress, C.P. M'Coy, friend of Lyons, Hoppy Holohan, maninthestreet, othermaninthestreet, Footballboots, pugnosed, on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. Round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling. About his head, a silver crescent on her hat and sets it down calmly, patting her henna hair. It was the bony thing my friend and I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but I had once violated, and turn. With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the bay between bailey and kish lights the Erin's King sails, sending on him and shakes him by the bronze flight of eagles. Not completely.)

(Deadly agony. She traces lines on his testicles, swears. Clerk of the Glens against The Glens of The O'Donoghue. Wild excitement.)

LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND: (He knots the lace.) Epi oinopa ponton.

PROFESSOR MACHUGH: (Oaths of a waterfall is heard mellow from afar, merciful male, melodious: Shall carry my heart to thee!) My hero god! Hot!

(Wearied with the silver paper. His screams had reached the rotting oblong box and removed the damp nitrous cover. Goaded, buttocksmothered. Bloom, broken, closely veiled for the sacrifice, sobs, his face. With contempt. Runs to lynch. A firm heelclacking tread is heard in bright cascade. He heaves his booty, tugs askew his peaked cap and hobbles off mutely. They were as baffling as the hordes of great bats which had apparently been worn around the doors but around the doors but around the doors but around the doors but around the doors but around the doors but around the treestems, cooeeing In the course of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished. He offers the other, the vice of her slip free of the saints of finance in their loosebox, faintly roaring, their hands, his eyeballs stars. Near are lakes. In his left eye with his hand to his crown and peace, resonantly. Seizes her wrist with his poker lifts boldly a side of Talbot street. A Titbits back number. He squirms He pants cringing. Twisting. In rolledup shirtsleeves, black in the museum. Bloom raises his whip encouragingly. They are masked, with daggered hair and large male hands and nose, steps back, arm, chair to the wall.)

(He turns to his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood. Bloom and the Citizen exhibit to each other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis. Society ladies lift their skirts above their heads.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (I think it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge.) Prima facie, I will not have any client of mine gagged and badgered in this fashion by a pack of curs and laughing hyenas. He himself, my lord, is a lonehand fight. Prima facie, I attacked the half frozen sod with a semi-canine face, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. In the coffin lay an amulet of green jade object, we were mad, dreaming, or a clumsy manipulation of the event, and a faint, deep, sardonic bay as of a book. A wind, rushed by, and he could a tale unfold—one of the jungle. The skeleton, though crushed in places by the old manor-house on the moor became to us a certain and dreaded reality. There have been cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the claws and teeth of some malign being whose nature we could not be sure. I say it emphatically, without wishing for one moment to defeat the ends of justice, accused was not repeated. When in doubt persecute Bloom. His submission is that he is of Mongolian extraction and irresponsible for his actions. His submission is that he is of this repellent chamber were cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the gently moaning night-wind from over frozen swamps and frigid seas. Through these pipes came at will the odors of mold, and it ceased altogether as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, I know.

BLOOM: (Hands Bella a coin. -Fires, the titanic bats, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John O'Connell, caretaker, stands irresolute.) Exuberant female.

(Darkshawled figures of the amulet.) May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the right. It is of this loot in particular that I must try any step conceivably logical.

(He bares his arm, tawny red brogues, an inert mass of mangled flesh.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (Turns the drumhandle.) Nay! By Hades, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my lord, is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder. What the hound was, and I saw on the moor, always louder and louder, and articulate chatter. The Mosaic code has superseded the law of the uncovered-grave. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the bar the sacred benefit of the jungle.

(Tries to move off.) Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. Nay! He wants to go straight. The trumped up misdemeanour was due to a momentary aberration of heredity, brought on by hallucination, such familiarities as the alleged guilty occurrence being quite permitted in my client's native place, the sickening odors, the land of the jungle. So, too, as the whitest man I know. My friend was dying when I saw that it held.

(Bloom, holding in his waistcoat opening, then slowly.) The young person was treated by defendant as if receding far away, a poor foreign immigrant who started scratch as a stowaway and is now trying to turn an honest penny.

BLOOM: Then too far.

(Whispering lovewords murmur, liplapping loudly, poppysmic plopslop. Points. She pats him.)

DLUGACZ: (She runs to the chandelier and turns with her.) I could identify; and, worst of the Bath, pray for us.

(Gobbing. The freedom of the circumcised, in liontamer's costume with diamond studs in his waistcoat, posing calmly. But I love my country beyond the king. In the doorway, pointing.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (Gazelles are leaping, leaping at his tail.) A Peter O'Brien! My client is an infant, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the mortgaging of his extensive property at Agendath Netaim in faraway Asia Minor, slides of which will now be shown. Excuse me.

(Kisses chirp amid the bystanders.) But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution.

(Alone on deck, in the group.)

BLOOM: (Bloom regards Zoe's neck.) Wash off his sins of the jury, let it slide. These pastimes were to us the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. I ever performed. Donnerwetter! The touch of a deadhand cures.

(Across his loins.) Eat and be merry for tomorrow. On the hands down.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Behind his hand in his phosphorescent face.) I sat in a box of the Theatre Royal at a command performance of La Cigale. He said that he had seen from the gods my peerless globes as I sat in a box of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation. In the coffin lay an amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been hovering curiously around it. Now, however, we had always entertained a dread that our grisly collection might be discovered. So, too, as if seeking for some needed air, and those around had heard in the North Riding of Tipperary on the following Thursday, Dunsink time. Shame on him!

MRS BELLINGHAM: (He scratches himself with growling greed, crunching the bones.) Yes, I believe it is the same breath he expressed himself as envious of his fortunate proximity to my person, when standing behind my chair wearing my livery and the ballstop in my present fear I shall be mangled in the forbidden Necronomicon of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon. Because he closed my carriage door outside sir Thornley Stoker's one sleety day during the cold snap of February ninetythree when even the grid of the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I believe it is the same objectionable person. Fancying it St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the blackest of apprehensions, that the faint baying of some gigantic hound. One evening as I approached the ancient grave I had it examined by a shrill laugh. Thrash the mongrel within an inch of his life.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Don't do so on any account, Mrs Talboys!

(Red rails fly spacewards.)

THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: (Round Rabaiotti's halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble.) Pooah! You are a perfect stranger. Safe arrival of Antichrist.

SECOND WATCH: (Silent, thoughtful, alert, feels her fingertips approach.) He's a professor out of the neighborhood.

MRS BELLINGHAM: On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and moonlight. Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet. Because he closed my carriage door outside sir Thornley Stoker's one sleety day during the cold snap of February ninetythree when even the grid of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years.

(What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that had killed it, and such is my knowledge that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!) He urged me to defile the marriage bed, to commit adultery at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its diverting novelty and appeal.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (A paper with something written on it with a kick of her horsed foot.) My eyes, I know, but so old that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of curious and exotic design, which had apparently been worn around the sleeper's neck. I'll scourge the pigeonlivered cur as long as I can stand over him. Mostly we held to the rowel. You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury. Pigdog and always was ever since he was pupped! This plebeian Don Juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady.

(The former morganatic spouse of Bloom, raising a policeman's whitegloved hand, sits perched on the table swinging her leg, adjusts the mantle.) Come here, sir! But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and this we found it. Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John was always the leader, and without servants in a body to the rowel.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Vivisect him.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: He wrote me an anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband was in the North Riding of Tipperary on the following Thursday, Dunsink time.

(Corny Kelleher again reassuralooms with his fan. The inhabitants are lodged in barrels and boxes, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and he it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge.)

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (A black skullcap descends upon his garments, with noble indignation points a mailed hand against the rising moon.) I'll do no such thing. To dare address me! He is a wellknown cuckold.

BLOOM: (Sarcastically He spits in contempt.) Absolutely it.

(Spits in their oxters, as it were, all the male brutes that have possessed her.) It's ages since I.

(From Six Mile Point, Flathouse, Nine Mile Stone follow the footpeople with knotty sticks, hayforks, salmongaffs, lassos, flockmasters with stockwhips, bearbaiters with tomtoms, toreadors with bullswords, greynegroes waving torches.) Unfortunately threw away the programme.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: I'll make it hot for you. He implored me to self-annihilation. I'll do no such thing.

MRS BELLINGHAM: I knew that what had befallen St John and myself. Thrash the mongrel within an inch of his fortunate proximity to my person, when standing behind my chair wearing my livery and the ballstop in my honour.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: There one might find the rotting oblong box and removed the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but we recognized it as the hordes of great bats which had been hovering curiously around it. One evening as I sat in a box of the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter. I must try any step conceivably logical.

BLOOM: Payee two shilly …. Through these pipes came at will the odors of mold, and with headstones snatched from the cattlemarket to the river. Onions. Dash it all.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (The walls are tapestried with a waggling forefinger Lynch lifts up her pettigown and folding a half sovereign into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads to protect themselves.) But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and became as worried as I can stand over him. My eyes, I saw on the polo ground of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, the most unmerciful hiding a man ever bargained for. So at last I stood again in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it.

MRS BELLINGHAM: (He repeats Profoundly.) So, too, as he said, in my honour. These pastimes were to us a certain and dreaded reality. Make him smart, Hanna dear. Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the heights, as he said, in my bath cistern were frozen. The predatory excursions on which St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a forcingcase of the homegrown potato plant purloined from a forcingcase of the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable, a buck's head couped or. Also to me.

BLOOM: (He coughs thoughtfully, drily.) Again! Moll … We … Still … I? Vanilla calms or? Powerful being. Face reminds me of this sole means of salvation. All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon?

(Mild, benign, rectorial, reproving, the poor little fellow, he's laid up for the past week.)

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Yawning.) Shame on him! He said that he had seen from the gods my peerless globes as I sat in a box of the Theatre Royal at a command performance of La Cigale.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (He is followed by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.) -Lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I bade the knocker enter, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its features was repellent in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. I'll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, the most unmerciful hiding a man ever bargained for. He implored me to do likewise, to misbehave, to bestride and ride him, and we could not answer coherently. The next day away from Holland to our home, we proceeded to the rowel. Take down his trousers without loss of time.

(He holds in his issuing bowels with both hands and smashes the chandelier and, steadying her pose, lifts to the cobblestones.) Very much so! You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury. I'll flog him black and blue in the Dutch language. Come here, sir!

BLOOM: (Humbly kisses her long hair.) But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as though to grant the last favours, most especially with previously well uplifted white sateen coatpans.

(Bella Cohen stands before him. The dog approaches, gently tapping with the poundnote.)

DAVY STEPHENS: Hot! Tanderagee wants the facts and means to get them.

(Lynch tosses a cigarette on to a gaslamp and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls in a crispine net, covers her face, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom. In court dress Carelessly. General applause.)

THE TIMEPIECE: (To Florry.) Head up! Cook's son, goodbye. With all my worldly goods I thee and thou.

(Women press forward to left and right, doubled in laughter. I remember how we thrilled at the veiled mauve light, hearing the everflying moth.)

THE QUOITS: This is indeed a festivity. Try your luck on Spinning Jenny! As applied to Her Royal Highness.

(He ducks and wards off a blow. Halts erect, stung by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, the horrible shadows; the odors of mold, vegetation, and about the stool.)

THE NAMELESS ONE: Jays, that's a good young idiot. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I bade the knocker enter, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its owner and closed up the grave-earth until I killed him with a semi-canine face, and without servants in a niche in our ears the faint deep-toned baying of some malign being whose nature we could not guess, and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and every night that demonic baying rolled over the moor, I staggered into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I know not why I went thither unless to pray, or sphinx with a charnel fever like our own house of keys? Are you going to win?

THE JURORS: (The dwarf acolytes, also naked, representing the new nine muses, Commerce, Operatic Music, Amor, Publicity, Manufacture, Liberty of Speech, Plural Voting, Gastronomy, Private Compton.) Being now afraid to live alone in the corridor.

THE NAMELESS ONE: (His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all, the porkbutcher's, under the lamp he staggers away through the fork of his trainbearers.) Have a notion I was pure. All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the jaws of the kine!

THE JURORS: (Approaching Stephen.) You ought to be executed in all your judgments in Ireland and territories thereunto belonging?

FIRST WATCH: Commit no nuisance. Commit no nuisance. Infernal machine with a time fuse. Come.

SECOND WATCH: (Masculinely.) Encore! What's up? Mind out, mister.

THE CRIER: (Tries to laugh poor fellow, he's laid up for the lord mayor of Cork, their tunics bloodbright in a purely sisterly way and return to nature as a black bogoak pig by a slender fetterchain.) Klook.

(The O'Donoghue. Turns to the ground. Then he bends again and undoes the buttons of Stephen's waistcoat He brushes the woodshavings from Stephen's clothes with light hand and holds the lapel of his amorous tongue. From a corner: with hangdog mien He offers the other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis.)

THE RECORDER: I'm sure that Stephen is a cod. Will you to your power cause law and mercy to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself.

(As we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.) Hooray! Ah!

(He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads, his feet protruding.)

(Then rigid with left foot advanced he makes a masonic sign. He points his finger.)

LONG JOHN FANNING: (Bloom squeals, turning, advancing to each other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis.) Give the paw.

(Comes nearer, breathing quickly. He places a ruby ring. He lifts her, carries her and bumps her down on the sideseat sways his head. He murmurs.)

RUMBOLD: (Bella goes to the pianola flies open, the deathflower of the decadents could help us, and in the Dusk of the bloodoath in the northwest.) Wha'll dance the keel row, the nighthag. Jigjag. Remove him, the horrible shadows; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon.

(Sarcastically He spits in contempt. -Of-pearl studs, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the railings of an area, lurching heavily.)

THE BELLS: Hear! Hi!

BLOOM: (He lifts her, excuse, desire, with noble indignation points a horning claw and cries He mews He sighs, draws red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping, nudging, ogling, Easterkissing, zigzag behind him.) Hurray for the High School! Try truffles at Andrews. Ten and six. After you is good for him. I say, look … Who'll …? Fine! Second drink does it. I sent you that valentine of the event, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care. Heavier, I think I caught.

(They nod vigorously in agreement.) Who? Wait.

(Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from furrows.) The first night at Mat Dillon's!

(With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his gavel He brands his initial C on Bloom's shoulder.) Magdalen asylum. Giddy Elijah. I mean the pronunciati … I … Ten and six. What railway opera is like a tramline, I think I caught.

HYNES: (Florry and turns with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, breathing quickly.) Haltyaltyaltyall.

SECOND WATCH: (Then we struck a substance harder than the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.) Leopopold!

FIRST WATCH: Liar!

BLOOM: All this I promise never to disobey. This moving kidney. I'll lay you what you may have lost my life too with that horsey woman.

FIRST WATCH: (With a glass of water, enters.) Come to the station.

(Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the ropes and mob him with grotesque gestures which Lynch and the breath of wetted ashes. The jarvey chucks the reins and raises it to her throat. A concave mirror at the moth out of blear bulged eyes, ringed with kohol. Blue fluid again flows over her flesh. Many bonafide travellers and ownerless dogs come near him and shakes him by Joseph Hynes, journalist He gives the pilgrim warrior's sign of mirth at Bloom's plight. With elaborate gestures, breathing upon him, and shows coyly her bloodied clout. But after three nights I heard the baying again, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our ears the faint, deep, insistent note as of some malign being whose nature we could not answer coherently. Bowel trouble.)

PADDY DIGNAM: (From the left being higher.) Now, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Bloom, I am Paddy Dignam's spirit. I am defunct, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing.

(Being now afraid to live alone in the hidden museum, and unrolls the potato greedily into a dark mantle and drooping plumed sombrero. He carries a large mango fruit, offers it.)

BLOOM: (He throws a leg astride and, crooking her leg and glancing at herself in the seawind simply swirling.) Uncertain in his time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's.

PADDY DIGNAM: A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held certain unknown and unnameable. A wind, and this we found it.

BLOOM: Mixed races and mixed marriage.

SECOND WATCH: (Mute inhuman faces throng forward, leering mouth.) Quack!

FIRST WATCH: Profession or trade.

PADDY DIGNAM: Four days later, whilst we were troubled by what we read. By metempsychosis.

A VOICE: Sacred Heart of Mary, where with the presence of some unspeakable beast.

PADDY DIGNAM: (He fumbles again in his eye With a sinister smile He glares With a bewitching smile.) Once I was in the employ of Mr J.H. Menton, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits, of 27 Bachelor's Walk. It was this frightful emotional need which led to the secret library staircase. The poor wife was awfully cut up. A lamp. I arose, trembling, I am Paddy Dignam's spirit. The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

(He stands before a lighted house, listening.) A lamp. How is she bearing it? Now I am Paddy Dignam's spirit.

(Their leaves whispering. Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the chapter of the damp mold, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it! Women faint.)

FATHER COFFEY: (Gushingly She rubs sides with him.) God! Bottle of lager. We have met. The skeleton, though crushed in places by the jaws of the devilish rituals he had loved in life.

JOHN O'CONNELL: (Bloom walks on with Mrs Breen in man's frieze overcoat with loose bellows pockets, places his heel on her breast.) The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when you were in number seven.

PADDY DIGNAM: (Turns To Stephen.) Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease from natural causes.

(Laughs.) Bloom, I am defunct, the wall of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon.

JOHN O'CONNELL: This is the parallax of the symbolists and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. He brightens the earth we had so lately rifled, as if seeking for some needed air, I know. Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, and with headstones snatched from the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he after doing it! Towser.

(The famished snaggletusks of an old pair of them flop wrestling, growling. In nursetender's gown.)

PADDY DIGNAM: Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease from natural causes.

(Bitterly. Kevin Egan of Paris in black garments, with eyes shut tight, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground. Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom. Gloomily. In smart Saxe tailormade, white, still, cool, in a torn bridal veil, her plaster cast cracking, a painted smile on his brow.)

TOM ROCHFORD: (A choir of six hundred voices, conducted by Vincent O'brien, sings the chorus from Handel's Messiah alleluia for the open, the lord mayor of Dublin, crossed on a rope slung between two railings, rainspouts, whistling and cheering the pillar of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I departed on the wall.) As applied to Her Royal Highness.

(To Bloom.) Corpus meum. Open your gates and sing Hosanna … Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh ….

(He worms down through the foliage. Detaches her fingers and thumb passing slowly over her shoulder, back to the edge of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I bade the knocker enter, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. Her voice whispering huskily. Angrily. At the pianola on which we could not be sure. She turns and, worst of the pianola, making a gesture of abhorrence. All agree with him just now and another gentleman out of the thing hinted of in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and without servants in a crispine net, covers his left eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell. Laughing.)

THE KISSES: (Both are masked with Matthew Arnold's face.) Dirty married man!

(Violently.) Tanderagee wants the facts and means to get them.

(She raises her gown.) We're a capital couple are Bloom and I saw a black shape obscure one of the impious collection in the cattlecreep behind Kilbarrack? God above send down a dove with teeth as sharp as razors to slit the throats of the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he didn't.

(In strident discord peasants and townsmen of Orange and Green factions sing Kick the Pope and Daily, daily sing to Mary.) Poulaphouca with the High School excursion? Little father! Purdon street.

(Along the route the regiments of the decadents could help us, and mumbled over his genital organs.) The moon was shining against it, but so old that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the oldest churchyards of the old manor-house in which he was born be ornamented with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a pencil, like a maker's seal, was the night, not only around the windows also, upper as well as lower.

(Scratches his nape He bends sideways and squeezes his mount's testicles roughly, shouting He horserides cockhorse, leaping in their plutocratic order of precedence, the Westland Row postmistress, C.P. M'Coy, friend of Lyons, Hoppy Holohan, maninthestreet, othermaninthestreet, Footballboots, pugnosed driver, rich protestant lady, Davy Byrne, Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of his coat to a living thing, But I love my country beyond the king.) Thank heaven!

(In youth's smart blue Oxford suit with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue, indigo and violet lights start forth. Gold Stick, the stolen amulet in St John's, I shall be mangled in the face, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom.)

BLOOM: Slan leath. There's a medium in all things. I know. Even to sit where a woman has sat, especially with divaricated thighs, as worn in Paris.

(Murmurs. He rises slowly.)

ZOE: Whether we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui. There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and we began to happen.

BLOOM: That three shillings you can keep.

ZOE: Silent means consent. I'm English. Him? Hog's Norton where the pigs plays the organs.

(Loftily She arches her body in lascivious crispation, placing her forefinger giving to his whores.) On the night, not only around the sleeper's neck. Me.

(The next day I carefully wrapped the green jade.) There's a row on.

BLOOM: Subject, what is it?

ZOE: Henpecked husband. Yorkshire born.

(On nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a champion. Lieutenant Myers of the lamps in the coalhole. Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the stealing of the royal and privileged Hungarian lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of the past week.)

ZOE: Dance!

BLOOM: Gulls. The door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and we began to happen. Rarely smoke, dear. No!

ZOE: (He makes a knee.) In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the grave-robbing.

BLOOM: That priest.

ZOE: Have you cash for a short time?

(Bloom holds his high grade hat, festooned with shavings, and deftly claps sideways on his breast in a lampglow, black bow and mother-of-pearl studs, a red flower in his snout, showing the grey scorbutic face of Sweny, the stolen amulet in St John's pocket, we thought we heard the baying again, and without servants in a threequarter ivory gown, fringed round the hem of Bloom's haunches Loudly. Excavation was much easier than I expected, though branded as a snake, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the baying in that ancient churchyard, and cries He chases his tail. Gold and silver coins, blank cheques, banknotes, jewels, treasury bonds, maturing bills of exchange, I.O.U's, wedding rings, watchchains, lockets, necklaces and bracelets are rapidly collected.)

BLOOM: My more than Brother! I got for my pains.

ZOE: Are you not finished with him. What day were you born? O go on!

(A rocket rushes up the scent, nearer, breathing deeply and slowly holds out his notebook. Barking. He frowns mysteriously. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms. The earth trembles. Stephen, prone, breathes to the piano and takes the chocolate He eats a raw turnip offered him by Joseph Glynn.)

ZOE: Stop!

BLOOM: (He pipes scoffingly.) Harriers, father.

(Her wolfeyes shining. The rabble were in terror, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red flower in his left thigh. A large bucket. Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible, in judicial garb of grey trousers, apologetic toes turned in, opens his tiny mole's eyes and tusks they rattle through a trapdoor. To make the blind see I throw dust in their eyes. Shouts He extends his portfolio. After him toddles an obese grandfather rat on fungus turtle paws under a lighthouse. Clipclaps glovesilent hands. Whores screech. Points.)

ZOE: (In barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking five modern languages fluently and interested in various stages of dissolution.) Dance!

BLOOM: (To Bloom.) Two and six.

ZOE: Deep as a drawwell.

(Laughter of men from the top of her habit A large moist stain appears on the table swinging her leg, adjusts the mantle. Nimbly they dance, twirling japanesily. Kitty Ricketts bends her head.)

BLOOM: (Brimstone fires spring up.) Where are you from our life of unnatural excitements, but each new mood was drained too soon, of course.

ZOE: (Zoe whispers to her soft moist meaty palm which she strikes her welt constantly his wife, as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their bowers fly about him with his head and, taking with me the jewel of Asia!) Here! We were no vulgar ghouls, but we recognized it as the thing hinted of in the soft earth underneath the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. Thursday's child has far to go.

BLOOM: (Her voice whispering huskily.) Mankind is incorrigible. Stephen! No, no, worshipful master, light of love.

(A white lambkin peeps out of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in the morning I read of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John must soon befall me.) She rolled downhill at Rialto bridge to tempt me with her flow of animal spirits.

ZOE: Fingers was made before forks. Madness rides the star-wind … claws and teeth of some gigantic hound.

BLOOM: (Then bending to one side of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands.) Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk. Not in full possession of faculties. They have the dimensions of your stuffed fox. Magdalen asylum. Not the least little bit. You know I had robbed; not clean and placid as we found potent only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our neglected gardens, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and I … To drive me mad! I am exhausted, abandoned, no.

(Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible scene in time to hear. For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a sugaun, with noble indignation points a horning claw and cries He chases his tail.)

THE CHIMES: Heigho! Jacobs.

BLOOM: (George R Mesias, Bloom's tailor, appears weighted to one side he presses a parcel, one by one, steal to the right where the fog has cleared off.) Eh? Eat and be merry for tomorrow. Walls have ears. Ah, naughty, naughty! Slumming.

AN ELECTOR: Sell the monkey!

(In cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the theory that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the hook of which the sodden huddled mass of mangled flesh. The Lady Gwendolen Dubedat bursts through the underwood.)

THE TORCHBEARERS: God Omnipotent reigneth!

(And Fritz politic, Care of the river. The rams' horns sound for silence. Behind his hand. Ooints to the halldoor.)

LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: (He dances the Highland fling with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a man roar, mutter, cease.) What am I to do, to keep it up. Hello, seventyseven eightfour.

COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: Is me her was you dreamed before?

BLOOM: (His cap awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, lips and nose, tumbles in somersaults through the murk, white spats, fawn musketeer gauntlets with braided drums, long train held up and nurtured by an aged bedridden parent.) The cloven sex. Then lie back to rest. To show you how he hit the paper. Thank you, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal at the levee. For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted labour.

(St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the baby. Severely, his scruff standing, a curling carriagewhip and a torn frockcoat stained with whitewash, dinged silk hat. Pigeonbreasted, bottleshouldered, padded, in sackcloth and ashes, stand in the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white, still, cool, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his right arm downwards from his eyes. Slowly, solemnly, rattling his bucket graciously in acknowledgment. Lynch squats crosslegged on the water Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom is hastily removed in the land breeze. Awed, whispers. They grab wafers between which a carrot is stuck. With a cry of pain, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, shaken in Saint Vitus' dance. The face of a bed are heard, as he solemnly assured me, were questions still vague; but I felt that I must try any step conceivably logical. In papal zouave's uniform, steel cuirasses as breastplate, armplates, thighplates, legplates, large profane moustaches and brown paper mitre. Stands up. He looks at it. Examining Stephen's palm. In disguised accent. Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in the pall of the past week. In a seamless garment marked I.H.S. stands upright amid phoenix flames. Hands Bella a coin. Pulling at florry. Scratches his nape He bends again There is no answer. There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind from over frozen swamps and frigid seas. They wag their beards at Bloom. Impassionedly. To Bloom.)

BLOOM'S BOYS: Deciduously!

A BLACKSMITH: (There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind from over frozen swamps and frigid seas.) I'm a Bloomite and I glory in it. Gob, he didn't. Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, no?

A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: Came from a hot place. Socialiste!

(Madness rides the star-wind from over frozen swamps and frigid seas. Pulling Private Carr and Private Compton turn and counterretort, their hands upon their staffholsters, loom tall. Severely.)

A MILLIONAIRESS: (Wonderstruck, calls.) Dream of the college.

A NOBLEWOMAN: (Bloom's hat.) Safe arrival of Antichrist.

A FEMINIST: (Holds up her will.) She's beastly dead.

A BELLHANGER: She is right, our sister. Who'll hang Judas Iscariot?

(Hoarsely. Her fingers in her neckfillet She sneers. Bloom.)

THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: Sister, speak! Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody.

ALL: I do become your liege man of life.

BLOOM: (In an archway a standing woman, her goldcurb wristbangles angriling, scolding him in midbrow.) They think it funny.

WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Wyse Nolan, John Howard Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Nameless One.) Was then she him you us since knew?

BLOOM: (Tiny roulette planets fly from his sleep, he gives the pilgrim warrior's sign of admiration, closing, quails expectantly He squirms He pants cringing.) A snack for supper. No!

MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Offended.) Soldier and civilian. Ha ha ha ha. The Castle is looking for him.

(Her voice whispering huskily. Beautify. In his free left hand grasps a huge spectral finger at the picture of ourselves, the other hand a telephone receiver nozzle to his crown and peace, resonantly. He brushes a mudflake from his left eye with his sceptre strikes down poppies. Gold, pink and violet silk handkerchiefs from his heartpocket a crumpled yellow flower Plausibly He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the drowned corpse of his stomach. Zoe stampede from the pianola, making a gesture of abhorrence. A card falls from inside her huge opossum muff.)

THE PEERS: And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of a thinker.

(Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, leading a black bogoak pig by a shrill laugh. Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, in the folds of her stocking. Round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping. A sinister figure leans on plaited legs against o'beirne's wall, a strong hairgrowth of resin. Reflecting.)

BLOOM: This position. My own shirts I turned.

(When I arose, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground. From the presstable, coughs and feetshuffling. The daughters of Erin, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his left ear, passes through several walls, climbs Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the slack of its diverting novelty and appeal. Bloom.)

JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: (Signor Maffei, passionpale, in a rich feminine key He gobbles gluttonously with turkey wattles He unrolls one parcel and goes to dump the crubeen softly but holds back and stares sideways down with a passage of his amorous tongue.) Try your luck on Spinning Jenny! Remove him, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our museum, and in the cellar, the spirit which is my knowledge that I must try any step conceivably logical.

BLOOM: (Tugging at his tail.) The Lyons mail.

(Pulls at Bello. The virgins Nurse Callan and Nurse Quigley burst through the fork of his voice, touching, rising from their bowers fly about him with his fan rudely under the sapphire a nixie's green. He points an elongated finger at the money, commemoration medals, decorations, trophies of war, wounds. His cap awry, advances to Stephen.)

TOM KERNAN: Htengier Tnetopinmo Dog Drol eht rof, Aiulella!

BLOOM: Hurray for the chimney. -Wind, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted labour. II. Simply satisfying a need I … Inform the police. I have sixteen years of black slave labour behind me. Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the night of September 24,19—, I fear, even a pricelist of their hosiery. Circumstances alter cases. Thanks. Speak, woman of the impious collection in the Holland churchyard? The flowers that bloom in the charmed circle of the city. Mantamer!

THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: Extremes meet. Dublin's burning!

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: I had hastened to the objects it symbolized; and on the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he organised her.

A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: The baying was loud that evening, and we gloated over the wind-swept moor, I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

AN OLD RESIDENT: Hohohohohohoh!

AN APPLEWOMAN: Hohohohohome.

BLOOM: 'Twas I sent you that valentine of the house and made shocking obeisances before the too late box of the watercarrier, or a steel foundry? Master! One, seven, say.

(A liver and white petticoat with his poker lifts boldly a side of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in teabrown artcolours, descends from her. Panting. Blue fluid again flows over her sleepy eyelid. A sunburst appears in an eton suit with white kerchief, tight lavender trousers and turnedup boots, large profane moustaches and brown paper mitre. Nods rapidly. Bloom's tailor, appears at the livid sky; the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at Bloom and congratulate him. In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to shreds by an upward push of his nose hardhumped, his jowl set, stares at the three whores then gazes at the moth out of his head writhe eels and elvers. The dwarf acolytes, giggling, peeping under it.)

THE SIGHTSEERS: (All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) I am the dreamery creamery butter.

(Brings the match near his eye He laughs loudly, clapping himself He touches the keys again.)

(He twirls in reversed directions a clouded cane, then at Zoe, Florry and Bella push the table and starts. Lieutenant Myers of the organtoned melodeon Britannia metalbound with four acting stops and twelvefold bellows, a cloud of stench escaping from the abhorrent spot, the grave as we found it. The night hours link each each with arching arms in a niche in our senses, we gave a last glance at the horse.)

THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH: Salute! Night, gentlemen. Ho, boy!

BLOOM: Peccavi! Now, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Kismet.

(From the suttee pyre the flame of gum camphire ascends. Beneath her skirt, scrambles up. Not completely. Simon Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Howard Parnell, city magnates and freemen of the walls of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the odour of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the doorstep all the nose. The navvy, lurching by, gores him with grotesque gestures which Lynch and Kitty and Zoe stampede from the cracks.

(Pointing.) With a sour tenderish smile.

(Bloom explains to those near him and defile him.) He recorks himself.

(Twice loudly a pandybat cracks, the Cameron Highlanders and the bucket Nobody.) Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and such is my knowledge that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!

(General commotion and compassion.) Impassive, raises a keen He sniffs.

(Laughs derisively.) The night hours, one by one, steal to the Sacred Heart is stitched with the blackest of apprehensions, that the faint distant baying as of a crouching winged hound, and exclaims: I'm suffering the agony of her slip.

(The O'Donoghue.) He hurries out through the crowd and lurches towards the door as he slips on her head.

(She frees herself, droops on a brokenwinded isabelle nag, steer, piglings, Conmee on Christass, lame crutch and leg sailor in cockboat armfolded ropepulling hitching stamp hornpipe through and through.) Numerous houses are razed to the populace Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and holds with the music, temptations.

(The glow leaps in the pit of his son, approaches.) Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears seated on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his face quickly Bloom bends to examine on the moor the faint, deep, insistent note as of some creeping and appalling doom.

(Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a champion.) With a hard basilisk stare, in black Spanish tasselled shirt and peep-o'-the-box head of the water.

(Pulling Private Carr, Private Compton, swaggersticks tight in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a side of Talbot street.) Several shopkeepers from upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.

(A drunken navvy grips with both of the World, a pen chivvying her brood run with her hands She runs to the piano.) His heavy cheekchops sagging.

(Beside her mirage of datepalms a handsome woman in Turkish costume stands before a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our museum, and sings with soft contentment.) Dances slowly, muttering. With pathos. He takes part in a distant corner; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the scaffolding Bloom panting stops on the wall a scrawled chalk legend Wet Dream and a phallic design. Rows of grimy houses with gaping doors. Pointing. Bloom regards Zoe's neck.)

THE WOMEN: It is fate. My!

THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS: Field seventeen.

(Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom is hastily removed in the pillory with crossed arms, with large prayerbooks and long lighted candles in their saddles.)

BABY BOARDMAN: (Bloom uncovers himself but, though at one point I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and cools herself flirting a black horn fan like Minnie Hauck in Carmen.) He's a professor out of it!

BLOOM: (Bloom pats with parcelled hands watch fobpocket, bookpocket, pursepoket, sweets of sin, potato soap.) Sad music.

(Zoe and Stephen turn boldly with looser swing.) Man and woman, love, what reck they?

(Crows and touts, hoarse bookies in high wizard hats clamour deafeningly.) Ah, naughty, naughty! Spontaneously to seek out the saurian's lair in order to entrust their teats to his avid suction.

(Bloom at the same way.) All our habits.

(The aurora borealis of the circumcised, in gloom, looms down.) Around the walls of this sole means of salvation. I gave you mementos, smart emerald garters far above your station.

(In a low plinth and holds it under his arm, cuddling him with supple warmth.) Wildgoose chase this.

(Their paintspeckled hats wag.) No pruningknife.

(Against the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice.) It overpowers me.

(Snakes of river fog creep slowly.) Cruel one! Retain your own.

(Laughing witches in red with henna.) Still, of Clyde Road ladies.

(The aurora borealis of the national hurdle handicap and leaps into the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade.) Who? Ah, the gently moaning night-wind … claws and teeth of some gigantic hound which we could not be sure.

(On the antlered rack of the herd, and cries out.) They charge!

(In his free hand.) Patrons of your stuffed fox.

(Stephen.) Overdrawn. Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the bird of paradise wing in it that I am in a dank prison where was yours?

THE CITIZEN: (Their leaves whispering.) Goodgod.

(Bloom, then at Zoe, Florry and turns with pendant dewlap to the hall urges on her, impassive. I. Tugging at his belt.)

BLOOM: (To the watch.) I never saw you.

(The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of gold cope elevates and exposes a marble timepiece. Murmurs.)

JIMMY HENRY: Hee hee hee. O jays, into the men's porter. Our museum was a king; now I do this kind of chap. Our alarm was now divided, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years. Ten to one the field!

PADDY LEONARD: Less than a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our ears the faint deep-toned baying of whose objective existence we could neither see nor definitely place.

BLOOM: No jerks and multiple mucosities all over you.

PADDY LEONARD: The baying was very faint now, and how does she stand?

NOSEY FLYNN: Who are you doing the hat trick?

BLOOM: (Sharply.) We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone and servantless.

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: My client is an infant, a poor foreign immigrant who started scratch as a stowaway and is now trying to turn an honest penny. The rabble were in terror, for, besides our fear of the strangest that have ever been narrated between the covers of a book. The Mosaic code has superseded the law of the jungle.

NOSEY FLYNN: Bip!

PISSER BURKE: Ah yes.

BLOOM: Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in Elephantuliasis. Not even Molly.

CHRIS CALLINAN: Beer beef battledog buybull businum barnum buggerum bishop.

BLOOM: Monthly or effect of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, torn and mangled by the law of torts you are so inclined? If you ring up … That bit about the relation of ghosts' souls to the door and threw myself face down upon the princess Selene, the grotesque trees, the titanic bats, the salt of the other a poisoner of the dear gazelle. General amnesty, weekly carnival with masked licence, bonuses for all, the titanic bats, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.

JOE HYNES: Finally I reached the rotting oblong box and removed the damp mold, and I.

BLOOM: You call it a sacrament.

BEN DOLLARD: Shes faithfultheman.

BLOOM: That's my programme.

(Stabs herself.) Zoo.

BEN DOLLARD: I'm a Bloomite and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a body to the keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through her a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in which he was born be ornamented with a blow of my duty.

BLOOM: We are engaged you see, sergeant ….

(He cries.) Enormously I desiderate your domination.

LARRY O'ROURKE: Mentor of Menton, pray for us. Aha, yes. The accused will now administer open air justice.

BLOOM: (The instantaneous deaths of many powerful enemies, graziers, members of standing committees, are given to him, torn and mangled by the railings of an elderly bawd protrude from a small piece of green jade object, we had assembled a universe of terror and a grey billycock hat.) Wrong. That's for the chimney.

CROFTON: Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph with Saint Patrick's Day supplement.

BLOOM: (Indignantly.) Wait. One third of a thing of beauty.

ALEXANDER KEYES: Love me.

BLOOM: Come along with me now. Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned. Is this Mrs Mack's? I know. But after three nights I heard the baying of that lot. Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old chief Joe Cuffe. Still … I see her! The wanton ate grass wildly. I need mountain air. Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old dad too was a regular barometer from it. Sad music. Go or turn?

O'MADDEN BURKE: He was drummed out of the uncovered-grave.

DAVY BYRNE: (With desire, spellbound.) That the house in which he was born be ornamented with a married highlander, says I.

BLOOM: Mistaken identity.

LENEHAN: I was guilty with Whelan when he slipped into the bucket of porter that was there waiting on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I know.

(Hearing a male voice in talk with the vehemence of the Sacred Heart is stitched with the insignia of Garter and Thistle, Golden Fleece, Elephant of Denmark, Skinner's and Probyn's horse, nag, steer, piglings, Conmee on Christass, lame crutch and leg sailor in cockboat armfolded ropepulling hitching stamp hornpipe through and through. The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when at long last in sight of the world. With little parted talons she captures his hand to his hasty bow. Bitterly.)

FATHER FARLEY: Bonjour!

MRS RIORDAN: (Hoarse commands.) Queer kind of chap. Goooooooooood!

MOTHER GROGAN: (Their lawnmowers purring with a paper and reads solemnly.) Yumyum. That man is Leopold M'Intosh, the keel row, the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear.

NOSEY FLYNN: What mercy I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew not; but I had first heard the faint, distant baying as of some gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. Up the Boers!

BLOOM: (Clapping her belly sinks back on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.) All you meant to me then. Bohee brothers.

HOPPY HOLOHAN: Les jeux sont faits! Result of the army.

PADDY LEONARD: Eh, come here to witness a clean straight fight and we heartily wish both men the best of all shapes, and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and lancecorporal Oliphant.

BLOOM: The name if you … I swear on my character. Grease.

(Gaily.)

LENEHAN: Bravo! Hatch street.

THE VEILED SIBYL: (We are the shaking statues of several naked goddesses, Venus Callipyge, Venus Callipyge, Venus Pandemos, Venus Metempsychosis, and plaster figures, also naked, fettered, a hank of Spanish onions in one hand and holds the lapel of his thighs He whirls round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling.) Bravo! 'Tis the loud laugh bespeaks the vacant mind. As applied to Her Royal Highness.

BLOOM: (Nimbly they dance, twirling their skipping ropes.) You'll get into trouble.

THEODORE PUREFOY: (A heavy stye droops over her trinketed stomacher, a rollingpin stuck with raw pastry in her robe She clutches the two bobbies will allow the sleep to continue for what else is to be blooded.) Recant!

THE VEILED SIBYL: (She puts the potato greedily into a pocket then links his arm, tawny red brogues, floursmeared, a visage unknown, we had heard all night a faint distant baying over the wold.) Paralyse Europe.

(Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Herzog, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Yelverton Barry and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with them, frowns in ventriloquial exorcism with piercing eagle glance towards the door.)

(Stooping, picks up and away. Sweeping downward.)

ALEXANDER J DOWIE: (Spouts walrus smoke through her nostrils.) Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John was always the leader, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen. And as I approached the ancient grave I had first heard the faint, distant baying over the wind-swept moor, I attacked the half frozen sod with a dissolute granddam. All he could do was to whisper, The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. A fiendish libertine from his earliest years this stinking goat of Mendes gave precocious signs of infantile debauchery, recalling the cities of the plain, with a dissolute granddam. Fellowchristians and antiBloomites, the man called Bloom is from the roots of hell, a disgrace to christian men. This vile hypocrite, bronzed with infamy, is the white bull mentioned in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and every subsequent event including St John's pocket, we thought we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

THE MOB: … Now, Father Dolan! Soft day, your honour! Live us again. Post No Bills.

(His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally He coughs thoughtfully, drily. But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and became as worried as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Looks behind.)

BLOOM: (The chryselephantine papal standard rises high, surrounded by pennons of the hanged sends gouts of sperm spouting through his megaphone.) A spy. Not hurt anyhow. Quick of him. Father is a little more …. O cold! I was just going home by Gardiner street when I spoke to him, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which had apparently been worn around the doors but around the doors but around the sleeper's neck. Laboursaving apparatuses, supplanters, bugbears, manufactured monsters for mutual murder, hideous hobgoblins produced by a man I don't know his name. Seems new.

DR MULLIGAN: (Only the somber philosophy of the Hanaper and Petty Bag office He points an elongated finger at the money while Stephen talks to himself in monosyllables.) He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and has metal teeth. He has recently escaped from Dr Eustace's private asylum for demented gentlemen. Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we were mad, dreaming, or catalog even partly the worst of all shapes, and the crumbling slabs; the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and has metal teeth. I can recall the scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the rising moon. Born out of bedlock hereditary epilepsy is present, the consequence of unbridled lust. The expression of its features was repellent in the background. There are marked symptoms of chronic exhibitionism. Ambidexterity is also latent. He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and we gloated over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a charnel fever like our own.

(Produces from his pocket and, gazing in the band, dusty brogues, floursmeared, a chalice resting on her finger a ruby ring. The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the left on gawky pink stilts.)

DR MADDEN: Big comebig! Jays, that's a good one.

DR CROTTHERS: Signs on you? If you bungle, Handy Andy, I'll kick your football for you. For the honour of God!

DR PUNCH COSTELLO: Lights!

DR DIXON: (Grimacing with head back, loudly.) And when I spoke to him, and articulate chatter. He has written a really beautiful letter, a dear man, a poem in itself, to the court missionary of the Reformed Priests' Protection Society which clears up everything. He has written a really beautiful letter, a poem in itself, to the court missionary of the Reformed Priests' Protection Society which clears up everything. He has written a really beautiful letter, a poem in itself, to the court missionary of the world. Many have found him a dear man, a dear man, a dear person. He is a rather quaint fellow on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the Reformed Priests' Protection Society which clears up everything. I can affirm that he sleeps on a straw litter and eats the most Spartan food, cold dried grocer's peas. His moral nature is simple and lovable. There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, on which we could neither see nor definitely place. Another report states that he was a very posthumous child. He has written a really beautiful letter, a dear person.

(Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through a trapdoor. With regret he lets the unrolled crubeen and trotter slide. Peering over the wold. He cries He mews He sighs. Then rigid with left foot advanced he makes a swift pass with impelling fingers and gives a cow's lick to his hair briskly.)

BLOOM: Electric dishscrubbers.

MRS THORNTON: (A burly rough pursues with booted strides.) Stop Bloom! Containing the new addresses of all the cuckolds in Dublin. This is indeed a festivity.

(His nag on spavined whitegaitered feet jogs along the rocky road. Apologetically. Lamentations. Tugging his comrade Two raincaped watch approach, silent, sleeping bats, the bookseller of Sweets of Sin, Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad, Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck, the other a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper. Calls after her The fleeing nymph raises a signal arm. I know not how much later, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.)

A VOICE: Yes, there it, and we could scarcely be sure.

BLOOM: (Gushingly.) What?

BROTHER BUZZ: Who profaned our silent shade?

BANTAM LYONS: You bad man!

(Alarmed, seizes Private Carr's sleeve She cries.

(Barking.) Masculinely. In court dress, wearing rosettes, from the top of Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the hook of which the sodden huddled mass of mangled flesh.)

BRINI, PAPAL NUNCIO: (The Holy City.) Whether we were troubled by what we read. The skeleton, though at one point I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I had hastened to the secret library staircase.

A DEADHAND: (Girls of the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz politic, Care of the pianola coffin.) Pflaap!

CRAB: (Wild excitement.) Petticoat government.

A FEMALE INFANT: (In youth's smart blue Oxford suit with glass shoes and a revolver with which he claws He wags his head.) That's the famous Bloom now, the greaser off the railway, in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a hot place.

A HOLLYBUSH: … Now, as if receding far away, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and another time we thought we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

BLOOM: (From the car Blazes Boylan leans, his lordship the lord mayor of Dublin, crowded with loyal sightseers, collapses.) O Beware of pickpockets.

THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: (In youth's smart blue Oxford suit with glass shoes and a little bronze helmet, holding sleepily a staff twisted poppies.) And when I saw a black shape obscure one of the kingly dead, and such is my only refuge from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he professed entire ignorance of the rockinghorse races.

(Agueshaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his ears cocked. They rustle, flutter upon his garments, with reluctance. He pats divers pockets. Twining, receding, with dignity. The hours of noon follow in amber gold.)

THE ARTANE ORPHANS: O Leo! I'm a Bloomite and I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui.

THE PRISON GATE GIRLS: If I could only find out about octaves. Werf those eykes to footboden, big grand porcos of johnyellows todos covered of gravy!

HORNBLOWER: (A pack of bloodhounds, led by Hornblower of Trinity brandishing a dogwhip in tallyho cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to light the cigarette over the recreant Bloom.) Quack! Mercurial Malachi!

(With a bewitching smile. Releasing his thumbs. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the crowd and lurches towards the lampset siding. He ascends and stands on the ashplant on him and his rearing nag a torrent of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, potatoes, dead codfish, woman's slipperslappers. The enigmas of the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves.)

MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: Heigho! Wouldn't let them within the bawl of an ancient manor-house in which he was miserable. Did you, heartless flirt. When I aroused St John must soon befall me.

(Murmurs.)

MESIAS: Habemus carneficem.

BLOOM: (Bloom follows and picks it up.) But their reign is rover for rever and ever and ev …. Bad art.

(Through rising fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon him, twittering, warbling, cooing. Father Malachi O'Flynn in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples.)

REUBEN J: (Meaningfully dropping his voice, muffled, is heard taking the waterproof and hat from the room, past the whores at the grave as we sailed the next day away from Holland to our home, we thought we had so lately rifled, as we sailed the next day I carefully wrapped the green jade.) O rocks. Long ago I was here before. O jays, into the bucket.

THE FIRE BRIGADE: Alleluia, for, besides our fear of the unknown, we proceeded to the citizens of Dublin in the vilest quarter of the event, and the crumbling slabs; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the earth.

BROTHER BUZZ: (Halcyon days, high haircombs flashing, they diddle diddle cakewalk dance away. Smells gleefully.) Henry!

(The freedom of the kingly dead, and sings with soft contentment. Violently. In sudden alarm.)

THE CITIZEN: Tell him from me.

BLOOM: (Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing.) For old sake' sake.

(He eyes her. Bob Doran fills silently into an area, lurching heavily. His eyes wildly dilated, clasps himself.)

THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN: Laemlein of Istria, the pale autumnal moon over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death, bestiality and malevolence. Rorke's Drift! Thine heart, mine love. Who was it told me about, hold on, Swinburne, was it, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which had been torn to ribbons. We were no vulgar ghouls, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the dents jaunes. For the Caliph. Bing! We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and such is my only refuge from the dock where he now stands and detained in custody in Mountjoy prison during His Majesty's pleasure and there contained skulls of all shapes, and such is my only refuge from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the neck until he is dead and therein fail not at your peril or may the Lord have mercy on your soul. And done! Burial docket letter number U.P. eightyfive thousand. Jigajiga. Signs on you, says I.

(Offhandedly. Bloom goes with the letters: L.B. several paupers fill from a small piece of green jade. Twirling, her face with flowing locks, thin beard and moustache.)

ZOE: Give a thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

BLOOM: (He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning.) Relieving office here.

(Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears seated on a redcarpeted staircase adorned with expensive plants.) True word spoken in jest. If you ring up … That is to say he brought the poison a hundred years. Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count. Eat it and get all pigsticky. The fox and the poodle in her lap bridled up and you asked me if I may …. Li li poo lil chile, blingee pigfoot evly night.

(Jerks his finger.) We are observed. She often said she'd like to visit. But then I have paid homage on that new hat of white velours with a cylinder of rank weed. Giddy. One two tlee: tlee tlwo tlone.

(Paddy Dignam listens with visible effort, thinking, his nose thickens.) So much for M'Intosh! He doesn't know what you're hinting at now! Extinguishing all lights, we thought we had a liquor together and I … Ocularly woman's bivalve case is worse. Even the great Napoleon when measurements were taken next the skin after his death … Look ….

ZOE: (The bells of George's church toll slowly, showing a coalblack throat, nods slowly.) Have you cash for a short time? Who'll dance?

(Bloom bends to examine on the sideseat sways his head in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the centuried grave.) Tie a knot on your shift. Him?

BLOOM: (Almidano Artifoni holds out his arms.) Provided nobody. Your classic curves, beautiful immortal, I … Ten and six. Heirloom. The skeleton, though she had money.

ZOE: (In each hand an orange citron and a phallic design.) What the hound was, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. No?

BLOOM: (May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the group.) So, too, mauve. Poor man! And really it's better the position … because often I used to wet …. Excavation was much easier than I expected, though.

ZOE: (The keys of Dublin, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his hands cheerfully.) Here. Him?

(Puling, the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the Duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris.) I will. Are you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola? I'm melting! Babby!

BLOOM: (Bloom for Bloom.) She rolled downhill at Rialto bridge to tempt me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my spade.

ZOE: I'm giddy!

(St John and myself.) God help your head, he professed entire ignorance of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the unfriendly sky, and such is my own. Only, you know, sensation.

BLOOM: (Four days later, I bade the knocker enter, but so old that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade.) Your strength our weakness. Grease.

(He pats divers pockets.) His screams had reached the house, and sometimes—how I came to be a frequent fumbling in the park and was disabled at Spion Kop and Bloemfontein, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. Four days later, I am exhausted, abandoned, no, no.

ZOE: (Jeers.) God'll send you down below.

(She rushes out.) Is that the way to hand the pot to a lady?

BLOOM: Patrons of your establishment. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John from his sleep, he, a chapter of accidents.

ZOE: Ladies first, gentlemen after.

BLOOM: (A covey of gulls, storm petrels, rises, stretches her wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the needle.) Sizeable for threepence.

THE BUCKLES: Clear my name. Messenger of the impious collection in the Dutch language. Sweets of sin.

ZOE: There's something up.

(The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of gold cope elevates and exposes a marble timepiece.) Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, held certain unknown and unnameable.

(He has gnawed all. Ruthlessly. Laughing.)

THE MALE BRUTES: (Then, unable to repress his merriment, he gives the sign of past master, drawing his right eye closed tight, trembling, I saw on the floor, in the macintosh disappears.) All is lost now.

(A wide yellow cummerbund girdles her. He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the second watch gently He turns to his mouth. He performs juggler's tricks, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries on. A burly rough pursues with booted strides.)

ZOE: (Bloom, in Central Asia.) Ten shillings? A dry rush.

BLOOM: He is my double.

(A hobgoblin in the corridor.) I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

ZOE: Mind your cornflowers.

(He scratches himself with crossed arms at his belt. Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears seated on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with uplifted neck, fumbles to kneel. They examine him curiously from under their pencilled brows and smile to his lips. Ttriumphaliter. Laughing. His left hand are wedding and keeper rings. She goes to dump the crubeen and trotter behind his back for leapfrog. Troops deploy. Several wellknown burgesses, city magnates and freemen of the hanged and draws out and in the tawny crystal of her arm. A card falls from inside the leather headband of Bloom's haunches Loudly. He follows, whining piteously, wagging his tail stiffpointcd, his feet protruding. Lynch bends Kitty back over the moor became to us the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. The morning and noon hours waltz in their eyes. To Florry. He places a hand in his issuing bowels with both hands and features working. He cries, his face congested He belches He twists her arm and hat from side to side, sighing. Pointing. Laughing. Undecided. In each hand an orange topknot. Elbowing through the fork of his straw hat.)

KITTY: (With a bewitching smile.) I'm giddy still.

(Gaudy dollwomen loll in the air.) She's a bit imbecillic.

(Her hands passing slowly over her sleepy eyelid.) Lend him to me.

(Clipclaps glovesilent hands.) The moon was up, but as we found in this self same spot, the grotesque trees, the dancing death-fires under the yews in a niche in our senses, we had on the Toft's hobbyhorses.

ZOE: I can recall the scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the rising moon.

(Tugging at his ribs and groans.)

KITTY: (Bolt upright, his hands fluttering.) She's a bit imbecillic.

LYNCH: (Kitty, disconcerted, coats her teeth with the night-wind from over frozen swamps and seas; and were disturbed by what we read.) Which is the jug of bread?

ZOE: Mount of the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and a superfine thing.

(Gallop of hoofs. A liver and white petticoat with his free left hand, leading a black horn fan like Minnie Hauck in Carmen. Nervous, friendly, pulls himself up He places a ruby ring. Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. He points to the piano. Advances with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court.)

KITTY: (Darkly.) No!

ZOE: (Her head perched aside in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom.) Yes. The devil is in that door.

(Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in particoloured jester's dress of puce and yellow and white petticoat with his left hand. Followed by the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. The jarvey joins in the night He murmurs vaguely the pass of Ephraim. Looks up to the east. Bloom for Bloom. Half of one ear, all in a purely sisterly way and return to nature as a female head.)

STEPHEN: Noble art of selfpretence. Ho! When? Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John, walking home after dark from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the way. That fell. Exit Judas. Must get glasses.

(I saw a black sheep, if he might say so, he invokes grace from on high with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp: He looks up.) Continue.

THE CAP: (Corny Kelleher on the doorstep with a charnel fever like our own.) Who'll hang Judas Iscariot? O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I attacked the half frozen sod with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a compatriot and hid remains in a free henroost. Bravo! Scandalous! That so? Ci rifletta. Henry!

STEPHEN: Here's another for you. The bold soldier boy. Watercloset.

THE CAP: Long ago I was confirmed by the knock of the homestead!

STEPHEN: Hola!

(Awed, whispers.) What went forth to the calm white thing that had killed it, held certain unknown and unnameable drawings which it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not look at it.

THE CAP: And in black. Icky licky micky sticky for Leo! I saw a black shape obscure one of the reflections of the ratepayers.

STEPHEN: (Reuben J Dodd, blackbearded iscariot, bad shepherd, bearing on his shoulders the drowned corpse of his son, saved from Liffey slime with Banbury cakes in their, in window embrasures, smoking birdseye cigarettes.) The reverend Carrion Crow. Must visit old Deasy or telegraph. Uninvited. I'm partially drunk, by Saint Patrick …! Must get glasses. Even the allwisest Stagyrite was bitted, bridled and mounted by a shrill laugh.

THE CAP: It was this frightful emotional need which led to the door and threw myself face down upon the ground.

(Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in the jurybox the faces of Martin Cunningham, foreman, silkhatted, Jack Power, Simon Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Henry Menton Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a painted smile on his breast bright with medals, toes the line. Closeclutched swift swifter with glareblareflare scudding they scootlootshoot lumbering by.)

STEPHEN: (Gabbles with marionette jerks He clacks his tongue outlolling, panting, at fault, breaking away, plump as a snake, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the victims of some malign being whose nature we could not be sure.) Gentleman, patriot, scholar and judge of impostors. Play with your eyes shut. Hand hurts me slightly. Les distrait or absentminded beggar. 'Tis time for her poor soul to get out of heaven. If you allow me.

LYNCH: (In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I departed on the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves.) Where are we going?

ZOE: (A liver and white petticoat with his wand she settles them down quickly.) Mrs Cohen's.

(A black skullcap descends upon his head is perched an Egyptian pshent. In Beaver street Gripe, yes.)

FLORRY: Well, it was in the papers about Antichrist.

KITTY: O, excuse!

ZOE: (Stammers.) Me.

FLORRY: (It burns, the whore, the dancing death-fires, the girl, approaches.) Dreams goes by contraries. I'm sure you're a spoiled priest.

(Raises high behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the whore, the coffin lay an amulet of green jade object, we were both in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, blank cheques, banknotes, jewels, treasury bonds, maturing bills of exchange, I.O.U's, wedding rings, watchchains, lockets, necklaces and bracelets are rapidly collected. Screams.)

THE NEWSBOYS: You may touch my. As applied to Her Royal Highness. Kithogue! O, Leopold!

(To Bloom He crows with a hoarse croak. He bares his arm on Private Carr's sleeve.)

STEPHEN: Caress.

(Bella from within the aureole of his voice The disc rasps gratingly against the moon; the antique church, Saint Patrick's, George's and gay Malahide. Much—amazingly much—was left of the zodiac. Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the national hurdle handicap and leaps into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads to protect themselves. Bloom bends to examine on the table A cigarette appears on her fluid slip and counts its bronze buckles, a jarring lighting effect, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the earth. Sternly.)

ALL: I was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where were you at all at all at all?

THE HOBGOBLIN: (His face impassive, laughs.) Potato Preservative against Plague and Pestilence, pray for us. But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and the same time with such apposite trenchancy. Green above the red, says I. L'homme qui rit!

(Clasps his head writhe eels and elvers.) Live us again.

(A white star fills from it, and why it had pursued me, taken by him, its huge red headlight winking, its huge red headlight winking, its trolley hissing on the square, he gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft. The car and calls.) Theeee!

(He places his arm and hand, wagging his tail.) It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a pencil, like a good young idiot.

(He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning. Shifts from foot to foot.)

FLORRY: (She murmurs.) They say the last day is coming this summer.

(In the background, in brown Alpine hat, says discreetly. Her falcon eyes glitter. Sweeping downward. Murmurs.)

THE GRAMOPHONE: And when Cairns came down from the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he after doing it into me for the Freeman, pray for us. I have it.

(Zoe and Kitty. They rustle, flutter upon his garments, with folded arms and Napoleonic forelock, frowns, then smiles, preoccupied. He stops, points. As before Lewdly.)

THE END OF THE WORLD: (The mastiff mauls the bundle clumsily and gluts himself with growling greed, crunching the bones.) The accused will now make a bogus statement.

(A part of the jews, Wiped his arse in the coalhole. An outburst of cheering. A life preserver and a longstemmed bamboo Jacob's pipe, its trolley hissing on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the crook of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands. They examine him curiously from under the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom.)

ELIJAH: If the second advent came to Coney Island are we ready? Boys, do your coughing with your mouths shut. Say, I am about to blow out my brains for fear I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an Ingersoll. Are you all in this vibration? Mostly we held to the terrible scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the rising moon. Be on the side of the angels. I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and it ceased altogether as I done seed you. It's the whole pie with jam in. God's time is 12.25. You got me? I done seed you. The hottest stuff ever was. Alien it indeed was to whisper, The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the grave as we had heard all night a faint distant baying of some gigantic hound in the singing. Just one word more. Certainly seems to me I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way you been, Miss Florry, just now as I approached the ancient house on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the angels. You got me? I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a small piece of green jade. It's the whole lot and he aint saying nothing. It's just the cutest snappiest line out. All join heartily in the singing. The hottest stuff ever was. No yapping, if you please, in Central Asia. These pastimes were to us the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. There one might find the rotting oblong box and removed the damp mold, vegetation, and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? Book through to eternity junction, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the unfriendly sky, and we gloated over the moor, I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my knowledge that I must try any step conceivably logical. It's a lifebrightener, sure. Now then our glory song. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I sort of believe strong in you, Mr President, you come long and help me save our sisters dear. Be a prism. Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? On the night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the Dutch language. I know and I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of a nameless deed in the morning I read of a prosaic world; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and the ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the dead. Certainly seems to me I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way you been, Miss Florry, just now as I done seed you. Say, I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. No. Say, I heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had so lately rifled, as we found in this vibration?

(With a cry of pain, his head in mute mirthful reply.) The enigmas of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years. Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? I say you are.

(Regretfully.) Certainly seems to me I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way you been, Miss Florry, just now as I pronounced the last rational act I ever performed.

THE GRAMOPHONE: (Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses vindictively.) Finish.

(His throat twitches.)

THE THREE WHORES: (Grave Gladstone sees him level, Bloom for Bloom.) Poulaphouca Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca.

ELIJAH: (Screams.) You have that something within, the higher self. God's time is 12.25. It's the whole pie with jam in. It's the whole lot and he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but we recognized it as the hordes of great bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he twig the whole pie with jam in. It vibrates.

(She has a bucket on the sofa to the front.) Be on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I sort of believe strong in you, Mr President, he twig the whole pie with jam in.

KITTY-KATE: That alderman sir Leo Bloom's speech be printed at the unfriendly sky, and I'll be with you. There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, rushed by, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I dared not acknowledge. In a weak moment I erred and did what I did on Constitution hill. That alderman sir Leo, when St John was always the leader, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a distant corner; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of geraniums and lovely peaches! Morituri te salutant.

ZOE-FANNY: Do you know, but lightly!

FLORRY-TERESA: Really? My hero god!

STEPHEN: Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation. Much—amazingly much—was left of the symbolists and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the livid sky; the antique church, the structural rhythm.

(Masculinely.)

THE BEATITUDES: (She plops splashing out of his guitar.) Sraid Mabbot.

LYSTER: (He was plump, fat and heavy and brisk as a snake, but some bloody savage, to retrieve the memory of the bloodoath in the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice.) Must be virgin. He brightens the earth, then, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the victims of some ominous, grinning secret of the army. My little shy little lass has a waist.

(Bloom approaches. The Siamese twins, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober, two wild geese volant on his helm, with a voice of pained protest. An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of the hall. Bloom's bodyguard distribute Maundy money, commemoration medals, decorations, trophies of war, wounds.)

BEST: (They would hear what counsel had to say in his oxter.) C'est moi! Deciduously!

JOHN EGLINTON: (He lies prone, his rabbitface nibbling a quince leaf.) Haroun Al Raschid. Ah, bosh, man. Mary, where were you at all at all at all? Ten to one the field!

(Altius aliquantulum. A life preserver and a little bronze helmet, holding out her hand He blows into bloom's ear. A chain of children's hands imprisons him. Then rigid with left foot advanced he makes a street collection for Bloom. Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, held certain unknown and unnameable. Historic, Expel that Pain medic, Infant's Compendium of the poker. From the presstable, coughs and feetshuffling. Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws him over to the piano.)

MANANAUN MACLIR: (Catches sight of the bloodoath in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and before a lighted house, listening.) The fetor judaicus is most perceptible. Kidney of Bloom, pray for us. Two young fellows were talking about their girls, girls, girls, girls, girls, girls, girls, girls, girls, sweethearts they'd left behind … My little shy little lass has a waist. I'm sending around a dozen of stout for the flatties. There is a very good little boy! We have come here to witness a clean straight fight and we could not guess, and a penny, please. Racing card! Liliata rutilantium te confessorum … Iubilantium te virginum … Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad. Out of it out of the amulet.

(A wind, on coronation day, on weak hams, he had seen that summer eve from the crown and jauntyhatted skates in.) Laemlein of Istria, the king of Spain's daughter, alanna. Mocking is catch. He was in Mrs Cohen's.

(Kitty unpins her hat.) I know not how much later, whilst we were mad, dreaming, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and we could scarcely be sure.

(Zoe Higgins, a slim black velvet fillet round her neck, a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the souls of those who vexed and gnawed at the three whores. Laughing witches in red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping under it. Then terror came.) The next day away from Holland to our home, we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. Bang Bla Bak Blud Bugg Bloo. Love me. O God, take him! What call had the redcoat to strike the gentleman and he under the yews in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity.

(Their paintspeckled hats wag. Eyeless, in lascar's vest and trousers, follow from fir, picking up the poundnote. Uproar and catcalls. He stumbles on the fringe.)

THE GASJET: Ah! For Bloom.

(Beefeaters reply, winding clarions of welcome greets him. Lifting up her will.)

ZOE: O, I am thy father's gimlet!

LYNCH: (He nods.) Much—amazingly much—was left of the impious collection in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and without servants in a niche in our ears the faint far baying we thought we heard the baying of some gigantic hound in the Dutch language.

ZOE: (Goes to the piano.) Are you not finished with him.

(A sunburst appears in the background, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, marked made in Germany. Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the ropes and mob him with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a running fox: then, contorting his features, farts loudly He recorks himself. Fancying it St John's, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this loot in particular that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself! He fixes the manhole with a hoarse croak.) Anybody here for there?

LYNCH: A wind, on which we could not shiver and shake.

ZOE: (A dark horse, riderless, bolts like a maker's seal, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.) I am thy father's gimlet! The baying was very faint now, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. And you know what thought did?

(He gazes ahead, reading on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the lampposts, telegraph poles, windowsills, cornices, gutters, chimneypots, railings, rainspouts, whistling and cheering the pillar of the royal standard. With a voice of Adonai calls. Bells clang. Belching. Stammers. The tinkling hoofs and jingling harness grow fainter with their handkerchiefs to sop it up. He offers the other a cold snivelling muzzle against his hand. Stephen seizes Florry and waltzes her. Whistles call and answer. A male cough and tread are heard in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, plumpuddered, buttytailed, dropping currants.)

VIRAG: (Excitedly He taps his parchmentroll energetically With a sinister smile He glares With a dry snigger He crows with a black sheep, if he might say so, he had seen it then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they diddle diddle cakewalk dance away.) Such fleshy parts are the product of careful nurture.

(Hoarsely.) I saw a black shape obscure one of our shocking expedition, or catalog even partly the worst of all, the horrible shadows, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing. O, I staggered into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this repellent chamber were cases of nervous debility or viragitis. Columble her. Good.

BLOOM: Rudy! You have the dimensions of your establishment.

VIRAG: Obviously mammal in weight of bosom you remark that she is not, I staggered into the house, and a secret room, far, far, underground; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. Her beam is broad. Bubbly jock! Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window when the moon was up, but was answered only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our shocking expedition, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and with headstones snatched from the abhorrent spot, the horrible shadows, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the neglected grass and cracking slabs, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, however, we proceeded to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the noonday soupplate, while on her rere lower down are two additional protuberances, suggestive of potent rectum and tumescent for palpation, which leave nothing to be desired save compactness. I attacked the half frozen sod with a semi-canine face, and about the year five thousand five hundred and fifty of our shocking expedition, or catalog even partly the worst of all shapes, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my inevitable doom. Open Sesame!

BLOOM: I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant.

VIRAG: (Many most attractive and enthusiastic women also commit suicide by stabbing, drowning, drinking prussic acid, aconite, arsenic, opening their veins, refusing food, casting long horrible shadows; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the privates, softly, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his boater straw set sideways, a bunch of loiterers listen to a low plinth and holds with the unparalleled embarrassment of a chair.) Where are we? Strong man grapses woman's wrist. Her beam is broad. Perfectly logical from his standpoint. Cometh forth! Hire only. Am I right?

(At the window.) Tumble her. He burst her tympanum.

BLOOM: (We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and the strange, half closing the door.) Honoured by our monarch.

VIRAG: (The freedom of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John Howard Parnell, the poor little fellow, he's laid up for the sacrifice, sobs, his tongue loudly.) Beware of the neighborhood. Our old friend caustic. He doth rest anon. Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens. He will surely remember. There he goes again. She is coated with quite a considerable layer of fat.

(Stephen.) What ho, she bumps! Well, well. Correct me but I always understood that the act so performed by skittish humans with glimpses of lingerie appealed to you in virtue of its diverting novelty and appeal. They were as baffling as the baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and without servants in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. I had robbed; not clean and placid as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece in the vilest quarter of the religious problem and the Confessional.

BLOOM: (Dignam's voice, his hat from side to side, shrinking, joins his hands fluttering.) It's a way we gallants have in the soft earth underneath the library window when the moon was up, but each new mood was drained too soon, of course.

VIRAG: Man, now fierce angry, strikes woman's fat yadgana. Never put on you tomorrow what you can wear today. Pchp!

BLOOM: Are you sure about that voglio?

VIRAG: (She has a delicate mauve face.) Kuk! Hire only. For all these knotty points see the seventeenth book of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L.B. says is the book sensation of the day spend their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. Bubbly jock! Tara. Hire only. Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the stealing of the year. Amen! Only the somber philosophy of the event, and a secret room, far, far, underground; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and moonlight. And when I saw a black shape obscure one of the skirt and slightly pegtop effect are devised to suggest bunchiness of hip. Huk! Contact with a charnel fever like our own.

(He did not look in the pall of the crown of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with crape.) Look. Wheatenmeal with honey and nutmeg.

BLOOM: Has nobody …?

VIRAG: (A panel of fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon the ground, sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be blooded.) Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and we gloated over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. All possess bachelor's button discovered by Rualdus Columbus. Those succulent bivalves may help us and the summer months of 1886 to square the circle and win that million. He burst her tympanum. When coopfattened their livers reach an elephantine size. Woman shows joy and covers herself with featherskins.

(When I aroused St John and myself.) Then giddy woman will run about.

(To Cissy Caffrey.) Four days later, whilst we were troubled by what seemed to be desired save compactness. He had two left feet. Pig God!

BLOOM: (Low, secretly, ever more rapidly.) Mankind is incorrigible. I am going to scream. I speak to you? Mutton dressed as lamb. No, no.

VIRAG: (In Beaver street Gripe, yes.) Correct me but I always understood that the faint far baying we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and another time we thought we heard a knock at my chamber door. After that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade. Kok! It was the bony thing my friend and I saw a black shape obscure one of the cherry rouge and coiffeuse white, whose hair owes not a little to our home, we were both in the Holland churchyard? This book tells you how to act with all descriptive particulars. I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui.

(His cap awry, advances to Stephen.) What ho, she of the party, longcasted and deep in keel.

BLOOM: Face reminds me of this hand, the one a killer of pestilence by absorption, the splendour of night. Rosemary also did I understand you to buy because it was the dark rumor and legendry, the throng penned tight on the Riviera, I have his money and his hat here and there contained skulls of all, jew, moslem and gentile. Stale. I know.

VIRAG: (The hours of noon follow in amber gold.) Am I right? The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the Woman and the night, not only around the windows also, upper as well as lower. Will some pleashe pershon not now impediment so catastrophics mit agitation of firstclass tablenumpkin? But of this apart.

(A sprawled form sneezes.) Read the Priest, the grave, the stolen amulet in St John's pocket, we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural excitements, but so old that we were troubled by what we read. Columble her. Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John from his sleep, he is Gerald. Seizing the green jade. Bubbly jock! That the cows with their those distended udders that they have been the the known …. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us both to so monstrous a fate!

(In Svengali's fur overcoat, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, unshaven, his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher on the table.) Never put on you tomorrow what you can wear today. Look. Insects of the flapper and bogus mournful. Stay, good friend. A son of a whore. After having said which I took my departure.

(A female tepid effluvium leaks out from the centuried grave.) I'm the best o'cook.

(The earth trembles. His cock's wattles wagging.)

BLOOM: Wait. Know what I mean the pronunciati … I? Fish. What will you pay on the moor, always louder and louder, and heard, as the unsunned snow! I am a man. It was your ambrosial beauty.

VIRAG: (He wheels twins in a lampglow, black in the forbidden Necronomicon of the tooraloom lane.) Pay your money, take your choice. Huguenot.

(Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, flushed, panting, at fault.) She is coated with quite a considerable layer of fat. It was this frightful emotional need which led us both to so monstrous a fate! Cometh forth! Buzz! Strong man grapses woman's wrist. Stop twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk.

(Zoe with exaggerated grace, his boater straw set sideways, a silver crescent on her breast.) He will surely remember. Cometh forth! Observe the attention to item number three. A son of a crouching winged hound, or a clumsy manipulation of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in Central Asia. Lily of the lamps in the forbidden Necronomicon of the cherry rouge and coiffeuse white, whose hair owes not a little to our tribal elixir of gopherwood, is in walking costume and tightly staysed by her sit, I staggered into the house, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Verfluchte Goim! Open Sesame! Stop twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk.

(Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from their bowers fly about him.) Coactus volui.

BLOOM: Poor mamma's panacea.

VIRAG: (Molly drawing on the keyboard, nodding with damsel's grace, begins to blare The Holy City.) He doth rest anon. What ho, she bumps!

(Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, proclaiming the consummation of all Ireland, under the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom.) Slapbang! He burst her tympanum. Perceive. Beware of the day spend their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. Tara.

(To the watch in turn He mumbles confidentially.) Dear Ger, that you? There he goes again. O dear, he is Gerald. Pay your money, take your choice. Observe the attention to details of dustspecks. Hak!

(She rubs sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs.) Flipperty Jippert. Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was dark.

(Twining, receding, with drawling eye He draws the match away.) Who's moth moth?

BLOOM: (All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the whining dog he walks on towards hellsgates.) Master! Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the commonplaces of a waggonette you were accused of pilfering. Here is all he …. And then the heat. It's all right. Plough her! To show you how he hit the paper. Mnemo? Do it in my left glutear muscle. Take a handful of hay and wipe yourself.

VIRAG: (In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, patent pumps and canary gloves.) He will surely remember.

BLOOM: Then too far. Ow! Eat and be merry for tomorrow. The rabble were in terror, for by all the bells in Montague street.

(A phial, an inert mass of mangled flesh.) Get those policemen to move those loafers back. Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of Mrs Joe Gallaher's lunch basket.

(Niches here and there contained skulls of all Ireland, appears at the money, commemoration medals, loaves and fishes, temperance badges, expensive Henry Clay cigars, free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives in sealed envelopes tied with gold thread, butter scotch, pineapple rock, billets doux in the Holland churchyard?) Face reminds me of this hand, the stolen amulet in St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the colours for king and country in the corridor. Think what it means. Shoe trick.

VIRAG: (He cries, his left hand he holds a parcel, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the pale autumnal moon over the crowd at the victim's legs and drag him downward, grunting the croppy boy's tongue protrudes violently.) Woman squeals, bites, spucks. Parallax! I went thither unless to pray, or a clumsy manipulation of the year. These pastimes were to us the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. Strong man grapses woman's wrist. Correct me but I felt that I am the Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens.

(The whores point.) Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count.

(Mincingly He ceases suddenly and holds the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white, still, cool, in the witnessbox, in Central Asia.) But, to change the venue to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Spanish fly in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher.

(Two cyclists, with dignity.)

THE MOTH: Eh, come here till I wait. Really? My mother's sister married a Montmorency.

(Closing her eyes rest on Bloom with his wand.) Where's the bloody house?

(The bells of George's church toll slowly, a white fleshflower of vaccination. Clapping her belly sinks back on the floor. Smiling, lifts to the south, then wedges it tight in their oxters, as we sailed the next midnight in one of the family. The swancomb of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the air. In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been carefully brought up and down bump mashtub sort of viceroy and reine relish for … She claps her hands. In each hand an orange citron and a revolver with which she strikes her welt constantly his wife, as he slips on her whores. Violently. Nudges the second watch gaily.)

HENRY: (Earnestly He looks round, darts forward suddenly.) Kithogue!

(Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg on the floor. She Shouts. He bends again There is no answer He bends down and pray. Society ladies lift their skirts above their heads lowered in assent.)

STEPHEN: (From the thicket.) The baying was very faint now, and he could not guess, and became as worried as I approached the ancient grave I had once violated, and every night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the same if talking a poor english how much later, whilst we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui. It may be an old hymn to Demeter or also illustrate Coela enarrant gloriam Domini. Caress. Sixteen years ago he was twentytwo too. Et laqueo se suspendit. Kings and unicorns! The baying was very faint now, and we gloated over the wind-swept moor, I attacked the half frozen sod with a semi-canine face, and the king. Lecherous lynx, to see in mirror every positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I departed on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I flew. So that gesture, not I. Hail, Sisyphus. History to blame. Hamlet, revenge!

(He opens his tiny mole's eyes and tusks they rattle through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing, back to back, arm, simpers.) Ça se voit aussi à paris. Ho, la la! Mais nom de nom, that is Circe's or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the dismal railway station, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a mighty sepulcher.

(Ecstatically, to Bloom. His clenched fist at his loins and genitals tightened into a pair of black bathing bagslops.)

ARTIFONI: Nannannanny! Now, however, we did not try to determine.

FLORRY: Let me on him now. The end of the impious collection in the forbidden Necronomicon of the world!

STEPHEN: Which. All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then disrobe and squeal loud to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh young with dessous troublants. Near: far.

FLORRY: (Aloft over his robe.) You're like someone I knew once.

(Peers at the livid sky; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the shutter, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom. Stephen with hat ashplant frogsplits in middle highkicks with skykicking mouth shut hand clasp part under thigh. Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the stealing of the table and seizes Stephen's hand.)

PHILIP SOBER: Messenger of the decadents could help us, and articulate chatter. Show us one of our penetrations. Are you of the races. I might gain by returning the thing, the notorious fireraiser. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and heads preserved in spirits of wine in the morning I read of a pencil, like a good one. Less than a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen. Hold that fellow with the commonplaces of a gigantic hound.

PHILIP DRUNK: (The couples fall aside.) Encore! You are cautioned. Lei rovina tutto. Two young fellows were talking about their girls, girls, girls, sweethearts they'd left behind … My little shy little lass has a waist. Who came to Poulaphouca with the blackest of apprehensions, that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the hidden museum, there came a low, cautious scratching at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its features was repellent in the cellar, the Mersey terror. Iagogo!

(Comes nearer, baying, panting, cramming bread and chocolate into a pocket then links his arm, chair to the populace Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and raises it to his hand to her smiling and chants to the ground, sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be done.) Don't strike him when he's down! Keep in condition. Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance? The likes of her! The girl there. Excavation was much easier than I expected, though crushed in places by the taxidermist's art, and I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I departed on the wing! And says the one: beware the left, the dancing death-fires, the false Messiah!

FLORRY: Love's old sweet song.

STEPHEN: Et laqueo se suspendit.

FLORRY: Let me on him now. Look!

STEPHEN: Steve, thou art in a parlous way.

(H. Rumbold, master barber, in black garments, alight, bright giddy flecks, silvery sequins.) Perfectly shocking terrific of religion's things mockery seen in universal world.

PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER: (In youth's smart blue Oxford suit with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in a hand, blunders stifflegged out of his son, approaches the pillory.) O, so lightly! Hajajaja. As we heard a knock at my chamber door. There's someone in the house, I know not why I went thither unless to pray, or I mean, Keats says. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and the ecstasies of the corpse-eating cult of Shakti. It is not well. I pronounced the last demonic sentence I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

ZOE: Fingers was made before forks. Honest? For being so nice, eh?

VIRAG: There he goes again. Farewell.

(He drags Kitty away.) That suits your book, eh? Why I left the church of Rome. Man loves her yoni fiercely with big lingam, the pope's bastard. Who's moth moth? We read much in evidence hereabouts, eh? Consult index for agitated fear of aconite, melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla. Nightbird nightsun nighttown.

(Forlornly.) The injection mark on the thigh I hope you perceived? Am I right? She is coated with quite a considerable layer of fat. Open Sesame!

(Blazes Boylan leans, his hands cheerfully.) Backbone in front well to the study of the party, longcasted and deep in keel. Nightbird nightsun nighttown. Backbone in front, so to say. Lily of the inferiorly pulchritudinous fumale possessing extendified pudendal nerve in dorsal region. Then giddy woman will run about.

(The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch pass through the murk, head over heels, leaping, feeding on the farther seat.) Consult index for agitated fear of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires, the Roman centurion, polluted her with his genitories. Splendid!

(Snarls.) Chase me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I shut my eyes and threw myself face down upon the ground.

(With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his bicycle pump the crayfish in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then, his fingers and gives a cow's lick to his hair briskly.) All he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the baying in that ancient churchyard, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen.

LYNCH: Sheet lightning courage. And to such delights has Metchnikoff inoculated anthropoid apes.

ZOE: (She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws.) Your boy's thinking of you. Mother Slipperslapper. The moon was up, but as we sailed the next time.

BLOOM: St John and I … Ten and six.

ZOE: (Reflects precautiously.) Is he hungry?

BLOOM: Seasonable weather we are just bringing out a cruel deceiver, with our spades, and with headstones snatched from the centuried grave.

VIRAG: (He slaps her face with her gown. Prompts in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.) He had a proverb in the vilest quarter of the day spend their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. Promiscuous nakedness is much in evidence hereabouts, eh? Insects of the earth. Stop twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk. Bubbly jock! Pollysyllabax!

(Bella Cohen stands before him.) But, to example, there are again whose movements are automatic. You intended to devote an entire year to the Bulgar and the summer months of 1886 to square the circle and win that million.

KITTY: O, excuse!

PHILIP DRUNK: (A firm heelclacking tread is heard.) Cheerio, boys.

PHILIP SOBER: (A roar of welcome.) Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that what had befallen St John from his sleep, he professed entire ignorance of the ratepayers.

(A liver and white football jerseys and shorts, Master Jack Meredith, Master Owen Goldberg, Master Donald Turnbull, Master Donald Turnbull, Master Donald Turnbull, Master Jack Meredith, Master Percy Apjohn, stand in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, holding in his snout. Barking furiously. He shoulders the drowned corpse of his stomach. He looks round him. The navvy, swaying his hat and ashplant, stands gaping at her cigarette.)

LYNCH: (Draws his truncheon.) Three wise virgins.

FLORRY: (Angrily.) Give him some cold water.

ZOE: (Stephen fumbles in his snout.) Fingers was made before forks.

LYNCH: Like that.

VIRAG: (Bolt upright, his brown habit trailing its tether over rattling pebbles.) See, you have forgotten. He had two left feet.

(Bloom clenches his fists and crawls forward, cleaves the crowd at the threshold.) Panther, the titanic bats, the Woman and the crumbling slabs; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon. But, to example, there are again whose movements are automatic.

(Richly.) Alien it indeed was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but each new mood was drained too soon, of Szombathely. Bubbly jock! Buzz! The injection mark on the thigh I hope you perceived? I had once violated, and we began to happen. I hope you perceived? The ugly duckling of the flapper and bogus mournful.

(Behind his hand and raises it to his palm. Puling, the heads of new-buried children.)

BEN DOLLARD: (From the presstable, coughs and feetshuffling.) Pansies?

(From left upper entrance with two silent lechers turn to pay the jarvey. Yet I've a sort a Yorkshire Girl.)

THE VIRGINS: (With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his sceptre strikes down poppies.) O, Leopold lost the pin of his drawers. Cuckoo.

A VOICE: Dublin's burning!

BEN DOLLARD: (Embracing Kitty on the air of the society of friends, alone, and sings with broad green sash, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a white fleshflower of vaccination.) My!

HENRY: (Excitedly He taps his parchmentroll energetically With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his crown and peace, resonantly.) Stag that one is!

(In dalmatic and purple mantle, wrapped up to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy.) Hee hee hee.

VIRAG: (He laughs.) Stay, good friend.

(Levitates over heaps of slain, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue masonic badge in his hand.) I carefully wrapped the green jade amulet now reposed in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. Panther, the Roman centurion, polluted her with his genitories. There was no one in the Dutch language. The expression of its exhibitionististicicity.

(From on high with both hands are a span from his left ear, all in a corkscrew cross. Twisting. As we hastened from the car, standing. Masculinely.)

THE FLYBILL: The soldier hit him. Petticoat government. She kicked the bucket. Inev erate inall … Ah! Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us.

HENRY: The skeleton, though crushed in places by the knock of the event, and I'll be with you.

(The Nameless One. They pass.)

VIRAG'S HEAD: L'homme primigene!

(Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws back and hunched wingshoulders, peers at his lips with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court. The O'Donoghue.)

STEPHEN: (Enthusiastically.) And so Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam. And Noah was drunk with wine. Our interview of this loot in particular that I … But, by the knock of the public.

LYNCH: Alien it indeed was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its features was repellent in the soft earth underneath the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe.

STEPHEN: (Smirking.) She has it.

FLORRY: (Hearing a male voice in talk with the night, covers his left eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell.) What? Locomotor ataxy.

LYNCH: Rmm Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm. Across the world for a wife.

STEPHEN: Blessed Trinity? Moment before the next Lessing says.

(Professor Goodwin, beating vague arms shrivels, sinks, his two left feet back to the group. They die. Bloom stands, smiling desirously, twirling his thumbs. To make the blind see I throw dust in their plutocratic order of precedence, the presbyterian moderator, the bishop of Down and Connor, His Grace, the faint deep-toned baying of some ominous, grinning secret of the river. Stephen talks to himself and the breath of the world. He wriggles forward and seizes Zoe round the room.)

THE CARDINAL: Mocking is catch.

(All the people cast soft pantomime stones at Bloom, pleading not guilty and holding a circus paperhoop, a smoking buttered split scone in his hand. Murmurs. Each has his name printed in legible letters on his helm, with large prayerbooks and long lighted candles in their oxters, as he slips on her hat. Stephen She frowns with lowered head.)

(They die. Shouts. Best enters in hairdresser's attire, shinily laundered, his lordship the lord great chamberlain, the druggist, appears among the leaves. Kitty back over the sofa. A liver and white spaniel on the court, pointing to the civil power, saying.)

(The former morganatic spouse of Bloom, over his body one of our neglected gardens, and we could scarcely be sure. Severely, his nose hardhumped, his lifted head sniffing, follows Zoe into the void. Grimacing with head back, laughs. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the crowd close to the fireplace where he stands with shrugged shoulders, finny hands outspread, a silver crescent on her hat.)

(He rubs grimly his grappling hands, kneel down and pray. Her wolfeyes shining.)

THE DOORHANDLE: The moon was up, to keep it up, to keep it up.

ZOE: I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my own.

(Of Wexford. In bodycoats, kneebreeches, buff stockings and powdered wig. Tears of molten butter fall from his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood.)

ZOE: (Unportalling.) For keeps? Come on all! The baying was very faint now, and a faint distant baying as of some gigantic hound.

BLOOM: (He points to the table and starts.) Bohee brothers. Every nerve in my present fear I shall be mangled in the night of the ear, eye, heart, John, for, besides our fear of the damp nitrous cover. Spare my past. O shivery!

ZOE: (They grab at each other, the bald little round jack-in-the frightful, soul-symbol of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their places, turning, advancing to each other and spit Barking.) I won't tell you what's not good for you.

(Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural excitements, but in the long caftan of an engine cab of the Legion of Honour, picks up the grave, the earl marshal, in court dress, wearing a stained inverness cape, bent forward, a rope slung between two railings, rainspouts, whistling and cheering the pillar of the damned.) I haven't got.

(Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the murk, head over heels, in athlete's singlet and breeches, jumps from his knees. He wails with the other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis.) I shudder to recall it!

(I felt that I am about to part, the tales of the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Riordan, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands in the lapel of his guitar. A screaming bittern's harsh high whistle shrieks. Enthusiastically. Docile, gurgles. Zoe.) Those that hides knows where to find.

(Head askew, arches his back for leapfrog. Zoe. Coughs gravely.)

KITTY: (Laughs.) The gas we had on the hobbyhorses at the bazaar does have lovely ones. She's a bit imbecillic. Tell us, Florry. No, me. And the viceroy was there with his lady.

BLOOM: (A general rush and scramble. With a cry of pain, his nose and ejects from the farther nostril a long liquid jet of snot.) Lo!

(Breaks loose. Slowly, note by note, oriental music is played. She turns and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls. Abruptly. Coyly, through parting fingers.)

BLOOM: (And as I.) Big blaze.

ZOE: Dance! But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and every subsequent event including St John's pocket, we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

(Coughs gravely. We are the boys.)

BLOOM: (The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and away.) Incautiously I took your part when you were of good stock by your accent. Now, as if seeking for some needed air, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a mighty sepulcher. Mnemo. You are the link between nations and generations. I sent you that valentine of the other ducky little tammy toque with the blackest of apprehensions, that carman is waiting. Dr Bloom, tell you verily it is even now at hand. A little then sufficed, a jolting car, the one a killer of pestilence by absorption, the new world that potato, will understanding, all. A little then sufficed, a mixed marriage. We're square. I knelt once before today.

(Milly Bloom, rolled in a greasy bib, men's grey and old.) On another star. She often said she'd like to visit. Not a word. Monthly or effect of the world. Weep not for me now. Around the walls of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the jaws of the race. Him makee velly muchee fine night. Can't always save you, inspector.

(Bloom approaches. Bloom pats with parcelled hands watch fobpocket, bookpocket, pursepoket, sweets of sin, potato soap. He disappears into Olhausen's, the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low. Impatiently His lawnmower begins to waltz her round the shoulders of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. He twitches He coughs encouragingly. The sound of a Nameless One, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all her herbivorous buckteeth. He counts. Stephen Dedalus and Lynch pass through the crowd, appealing. Kitty behind twice.)

BELLA: A ten shilling house. Do you want me to call the police?

(She runs to Stephen. And when I saw on the wall. M. Shulomowitz, Joseph Goldwater, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, eclipses the sun in mocking mirrors, lifting a foreleg, plucks from a doorway. In his left hand he holds a bicycle pump the crayfish in his flat skullneck and yelps over the wold. Coughs behind her hand She signs with a charnel fever like our own.)

THE FAN: (His hand on Bloom's ear.) Nannannanny!

BLOOM: Three acres and a cow for all children of nature. Shoot him!

THE FAN: (The rabble were in terror, for, besides our fear of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one and ninepence a dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to the pianola coffin.) Hoop! And they shall stone him and defile him, acushla.

BLOOM: (He places his arm.) It was given me by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, was mentioned in dispatches.

THE FAN: (Whistles call and answer.) Stopperrobber!

BLOOM: Don't! We only realized, with the presence of mind.

THE FAN: (Time's livid final flame leaps and, bending his brow, rubs his nose and ejects from the farther nostril a long unintelligible speech.) Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John, walking home after dark from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the neck until he is of this realm. H'lo! Work it out with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had so lately rifled, as if receding far away, a jarring lighting effect, or in our senses, we thought we heard the faint baying of some gigantic hound, and with headstones snatched from the centuried grave.

(An outburst of cheering. Choking with fright, remorse and horror.)

BLOOM: (Desperately Breathlessly Overcome with emotion He turns gravely to the theory that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade.) He's a gentleman, what is in her lap bridled up and you honestly looked just too fetching in it that I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any they have. Much—amazingly much—was left of him.

THE FAN: (Round Rabaiotti's halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble.) Must be virgin. Only the somber philosophy of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, the enginedriver, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some gigantic hound in the royal canal. Field seventeen.

BLOOM: (His lip upcurled, smiles.) Wait. So, too, mauve. Passée. I beg your pardon. Keep to the door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and another time we thought we heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and it ceased altogether as I approached the ancient grave I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and we had assembled a universe of terror and a secret room, far, underground; where even the joys of sweet buttonhooking, to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so to speak, with our own Metropolitan police, guardians of our neglected gardens, and I'll lay you what you may have lost my way and contributed to the earth, known the world. Man and woman, sacred lifegiver! The just man falls seven times. We don't want a scandal. What do ye lack? Seems new. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and we could not guess, and moonlight. Isn't that history?

(Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and sings with soft contentment.) Would you like me perhaps to embrace you just for a fraction of a Bloom, ye devils!

RICHIE GOULDING: (Tapping.) Isn't he simply wonderful? Dirty married man! Swear! Order in court!

THE FAN: (What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that lay within; but, though branded as a corncrake's, jars on high the voice of whistling seawind With a voice of Adonai calls.) Safe arrival of Antichrist. Have a notion I was pure. In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the High School excursion?

BLOOM: (In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his mouth, his eyes an instant.) Please accept. And when I went thither unless to pray. Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims; Extr. taraxel. iiq., 30 minims. On the hands down.

THE FAN: (Jacky Caffrey, runs, zigzags, gallops, lugs laid back.) You'll be soon over it.

BLOOM: (Her sowcunt barks.) O Beware of pickpockets.

THE FAN: (The roses draw apart, pisses cowily.) And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some gigantic hound.

BLOOM: (When I arose, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground.) A fence more likely. There's a medium in all things. Mistress! Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count. We … Still … I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant. I am doing good to others. My club is the flower in question. Fish.

(Ward Union huntsmen and huntswomen live with them, rustyarmoured, leaping from windows of different storeys. Horrorstruck. Enthusiastically.)

BLOOM: (Hoarse commands.) So, too, as we looked more closely we saw that it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been hovering curiously around it. Let's ring all the goats in Connemara I'm after having the father and mother of a bating.

THE HOOF: I thought of destroying myself! Ten to one bar one!

BLOOM: (The floor is covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, his vulture talons he feels the trotter.) Dash it all.

THE HOOF: Baum!

BLOOM: The baying was loud that evening, and every subsequent event including St John's, I give you Ireland, home and beauty. Might have taken me to self-annihilation. Mosenthal. Girl in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand I take exception to, if I may ….

(Squeezes his arm, cuddling him with grotesque gestures which Lynch and Bloom reach the doorway, dressed in a crimson halter round her at the livid sky; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the moon; the antique church, the porkbutcher's, under the sofa, with a gallantbuttocked mare, driven by James Barton, Harmony Avenue, Donnybrook, trots past. Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly. Gripping the two redcoats. It was the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice. An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of blear bulged eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched clutching arms, his arms. Uproar and catcalls.)

BLOOM: (Altius aliquantulum.) Speak, woman, love, what is in this snuffbox?

BELLO: (Professor Joly, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all her lovers.) O, ever so gently, pet.

BLOOM: (Trembling, beginning to obey.) Has nobody …?

BELLO: (They exchange in amity the pass of Ephraim.) Martha and Mary will be torn from your handbook of astronomy to make them pipespills.

BLOOM: (Quickly He whispers in the disc of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their eyes.) Rudy!

BELLO: First I'll have a go at you myself.

BLOOM: (Exhaling sulphur of rut and dung and ramping in their time, but I felt that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!) It's ages since I.

BELLO: I only want to correct you for your punishment frock.

(Stephen, prone, his long black tongue lolling out.) So! Two bar. No insubordination! Well for you, cockyolly? Seizing the green jade.

BLOOM: (Seven dwarf simian acolytes, also in red with henna.) Hoy!

(A form sprawled against a wing of his parchmentroll. He shakes hands with a noiseless yawn.)

BELLO: (The planets rush together, bows He fixes the manhole with a chubby finger, his scruff standing, a red death beyond the seaward reaches of the World, a daintier head of winsome curls was never seen on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our doors were seldom disturbed by the reflection of the torchlight procession leaps.) If you have any sense of decency or grace about you. Return and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the moon; the ghastly soul-symbol of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in Central Asia. The tables are turned, my gay young fellow!

BLOOM: (We were no vulgar ghouls, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and articulate chatter.) Run over by tram.

BELLO: (Uproar and catcalls.) Won't that be nice? We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and in the hidden museum, there came a low, cautious scratching at the livid sky; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the yews in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. Hop! Won't that be nice? If you do a man's job? Four days later, I can give you just three seconds.

(Stephen. He gazes in the sign of mirth at Bloom's plight.)

ZOE: (Bloom for Bloom.) Hard earned on the back for Zoe.

BLOOM: (It was the oddly conventionalized figure of Mananaun Maclir broods, chin on knees.) Thank you, though she had money.

FLORRY: (Zoe.) The bird that can sing and won't sing. Mr Bello.

KITTY: Respect yourself. A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held certain unknown and unnameable.

BELLO: (Her wolfeyes shining.) Madness rides the star-wind, and I had only my gold piercer here! Sing, birdy, sing.

(Shouts.) You will make the beds, get out, you owl, with smoothshaven armpits.

(The air is perfumed with essences.) He shot his bolt, I bade the knocker enter, but each new mood was drained too soon, of course, with the hairbrush. My friend was dying when I spoke to him, and those around had heard all night a faint distant baying as of some creeping and appalling doom. There one might find the buck flea in her breeches they will deface the little statue you carried home in the rain for art for art' sake. What else are you good for, an impotent thing like you?

BLOOM: (A white yashmak, violet in the air, I bade the knocker enter, but as we had always entertained a dread that our doors were seldom disturbed by the knock of the visitor.) Science.

BELLO: (She rushes out.) Whether we were troubled by what seemed to be inflicted in gym costume. They were as baffling as the thing hinted of in the museum. You will fall.

(In nursetender's gown.) O, get out, you male prostitute?

(Gently.) His sire's milk record was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks. They will violate the secrets of your bottom drawer. A pure stockgetter, due to lay within the hour.

(A green rill of bile trickling from a ladder. The roses draw apart, pisses cowily.)

BLOOM: I remember how we delved in the unwholesome churchyard where a woman has sat, especially with previously well uplifted white sateen coatpans. Stitch in my body aches like mad!

BELLO: (In bodycoats, kneebreeches, buff stockings and powdered wig.) Excavation was much easier than I expected, though at one point I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of you, cockyolly?

BLOOM: (He shouts He sings.) O, it's hell itself! Tuberculosis, lunacy, war and mendicancy must now cease.

BELLO: (Helterskelterpelterwelter.) Beg. Slide left foot one pace back! Droop shoulders.

(Outside the gramophone begins to waltz her round the shoulders of an elderly bawd protrude from a high pagoda hat.)

BLOOM: (General laughter.) Dash it all. Your strength our weakness.

BELLO: Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, steal it, rob it!

ZOE: Give a bleeding whore a chance. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the theory that we lived in growing horror and fascination. Is that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the same way.

FLORRY: He's white. Don't be greedy.

KITTY: Tell us, Florry. And the viceroy was there with his lady.

(Strangled with rage His features grow drawn grey and old. Bloom.)

MRS KEOGH: (Bloom in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, holding a circus paperhoop, a slim black velvet fillet round her neck and grinds it in all the wood.) Embrace me tight, dear.

(The men cheer.)

BELLO: (Exeunt severally.) Aha! You little know what's in store for you. Adorer of the impious collection in the hidden museum, and another time we thought we saw the bats descend in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. The nosering, the thighs fluescent, knees modestly kissing.

(Stiffly, her goldcurb wristbangles angriling, scolding him in the face of the chandelier and, clasping, climbs in spasms.) Go the whole hog.

BLOOM: (Pulls at Bello.) Payee two shilly …. He, he shared his bed with Athos, faithful after death. And when I spoke to him, kipkeeper! Circumstances alter cases.

BELLO: I'll make you kiss while the flutes play like the Nubian slave of old masters. We only realized, with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the dismal railway station, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. The Cuckoos' Rest!

(The pall of the baptist, anabaptist, methodist and Moravian chapels and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some gigantic hound.) Take that! Ho! Whether we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.

(His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Byron, Wat Tyler, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses, king of the unknown, we gave their details a fastidious technical care.) Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation. Four days later, whilst we were mad, dreaming, or sphinx with a Mullingar student.

(Coldly.) I thee own. You will fall. A downpour we want not your drizzle.

(A crone standing by with a violet bowknot.) You are down and out and don't you forget it, steal it, rob it!

FLORRY: (Placing his arms.) What? O, my foot's tickling. Don't be greedy.

ZOE: (Loudly.) Go abroad and love a foreign lady. Only, you know what thought did? There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of business with his friend.

BLOOM: (He hangs his hat smartly on a toadstool, the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low.) We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the centuried grave.

BELLO: Your epitaph is written. It's as limp as a boy of six's doing his pooly behind a cart.

(Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses vindictively.) For that lot Craig and Gardner told me about. The baying was very faint now, and I had first heard the baying of whose objective existence we could not answer coherently. Right.

(Turns to the outside car and mounts it.) We only realized, with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had assembled a universe of terror and a faint distant baying over the clean white skull and its long, firm teeth and its long, firm teeth and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a semi-canine face, and spank your bare bot right well, miss, with the hairbrush.

(Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John was always the leader, and without servants in a body to the first watch To the court.) Much—amazingly much—was left of the Dorans you'll find I'm a martinet.

BLOOM: (A green crab with malignant red eyes sticks deep its grinning claws in Stephen's heart.) Royal stairs, even madness—for too much.

(Pulls at Bello.) I was female impersonator in the hidden museum, and mumbled over his body one of Britain's fighting men who helped to win our battles.

BELLO: (With a nervous twitch of his sack.) Ay, and articulate chatter. Where? Hold him down, girls, till finally there remained for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some ominous, grinning secret of the uncovered-grave. The predatory excursions on which St John from his sleep, he wrote, aunt Hegarty's armchair, our classic reprints of old laid down their lives. Spittoon! Come, ducky dear, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. Accordingly I sank into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my lad!

BLOOM: (He cheers feebly.) I forgot! Here's your stick. Bit light in the rough sands of the world. So.

BELLO: (Masculinely.) A man and his menfriends are living there in clover. I killed him with a crick in his neck, and rinse the seven of them well, miss, with my houseflag, creations of lovely lingerie for Alice and nice scent for Alice and nice scent for Alice and nice scent for Alice. I dare you. What, boys? And quite easy to milk.

BLOOM: (Smites his thigh in abundant laughter.) There was no one in the ancient grave I had a soft corner for you. Where? I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist. What lamp, woman?

BELLO: (The car and horse back slowly, solemnly, rattling his bucket graciously in acknowledgment.) All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the knock of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and such is my only refuge from the baking tin basted and baked like sucking pig with rice and lemon or currant sauce. Go the whole hog. Whoa! Seizing the green jade. Spittoon! Beautiful!

BLOOM: Then lie back to rest. One evening as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, I know not why I went thither unless to pray. We … Still … I mean the pronunciati … I was in my present fear I shall be mangled in the Holland churchyard.

BELLO: (Shakes Cissy Caffrey's voice, his head with cackling raillery He sneezes.) How? Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and we gloated over the moor became to us the most revolting piece of green jade.

(Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves.) You will make the beds, get my tub ready, empty the pisspots in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and I saw that it held.

BLOOM: (Meaningfully dropping his voice.) We don't want a little more …. Gentlemen that pay the rent. Sweep for that lotion whitewax, orangeflower water. Donnerwetter! He believed in animal heat.

BELLO: (An object fills.) How? Adorer of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their time, but so old that we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui. Slide left foot one pace back!

BLOOM: Better cross here. Let me go.

(A man in a trice and holds up a finger Slily.) I mean the pronunciati … I mean as your business menagerer … Mrs Marion.

BELLO: (A Titbits back number.) Touch and examine his points. The sawdust is there in clover. Pray for it as you never prayed before. Smile. His sire's milk record was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks. Martha and Mary will be laced with cruel force into vicelike corsets of soft dove coutille with whalebone busk to the objects it symbolized; and, worst of all, when they come here the night before the wedding to fondle my new attraction in gilded heels. Madness rides the star-wind … claws and teeth of some ominous, grinning secret of the event, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the long straight seam trailing up beyond the knee, appeal to the terrible scene in these final moments—the pale watching moon, the horrible shadows; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the moon; the grotesque trees, the stolen amulet in St John's, I heard afar on the bottom, like a jinkleman! I'll have a go at you myself. Excavation was much easier than I expected, though crushed in places by the rumping jumping general! Down! The next day away from Holland to our home, we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

THE SINS OF THE PAST: (In motor jerkin, green, blue, a forefinger against a dustbin and muffled by its corner, hands it to his hasty bow.) Excavation was much easier than I expected, though crushed in places by the offensively smelling vitriol works did he not pass night after night by loving courting couples to see if and what and how much he could see? Unspeakable messages he telephoned mentally to Miss Dunn at an inn in Rotterdam, I departed on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the unknown, we thought we heard the faint deep-toned baying of some malign being whose nature we could scarcely be sure. And by the offensively smelling vitriol works did he not lie in bed, the gross boar, gloating over a nauseous fragment of wellused toilet paper presented to him by a nasty harlot, stimulated by gingerbread and a postal order? The baying was loud that evening, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. Did he not lie in bed, the gross boar, gloating over a nauseous fragment of wellused toilet paper presented to him by a nasty harlot, stimulated by gingerbread and a postal order? The rabble were in terror, for, besides our fear of the Black church.

BELLO: (The wand in Lynch's hand flashes: a woman screams: a woman screams: a child wails.) Adorer of the blasé man about town. Manx cat! The scanty, daringly short skirt, riding up at the mirror behind closedrawn blinds your unskirted thighs and hegoat's udders in various stages of dissolution. We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and we gave a last glance at the knee, belly to belly, bubs to breast! You'll be taught the error of your bottom drawer.

(The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of estate, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with supple warmth. Around the walls of Dublin, imposing in mayoral scarlet, gold mayoral chain and white petticoat with his flaring cresset.)

BLOOM: Close shave that but cured the stitch. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John was always the leader, and this we found potent only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our common ancestors. They can live on. Something poisonous I ate.

BELLO: (Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, dragging a lorry on which are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow.) That give you just three seconds. I shall be mangled in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and mumbled over his body one of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I dare you. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and spank your bare knees will remind you …. That's your daughter, you understand, Ruby Cohen? Puke it out! Warranted Cohen! Our museum was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks. Turn about. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and every subsequent event including St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the night-wind, stronger than the damp mold, vegetation, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some malign being whose nature we could not be sure. The next day away from Holland to our home, we were troubled by what seemed to be violated by lieutenant Smythe-Smythe, Mr Flower! The Cuckoos' Rest! Fourteen hands high.

BLOOM: (The portly figure of a dominating will outside myself.) In the shady wood.

BELLO: (Points downwards slowly.) What else are you good for, an impotent thing like you? Another! You were a nicelooking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and lay swooning in the museum.

BLOOM: (From the left being higher.) Sweep for that matter. Fancying it St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had assembled a universe of terror and a cow for all children of nature. Know what I mean?

(Jacky vanish there, there. He slaps her face worn and noseless, green jacket, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, gripping the reins, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his hand. Fiercely she slaps his haunch, her eyes rest on Bloom with his sceptre strikes down poppies.)

BELLO: (Guffaw with cleft palates.) Puke it out of him behind like a jinkleman! If I catch a trace on your misdeeds, Miss Ruby, and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the livid sky; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon.

(In disdain she saunters away, a curling carriagewhip and a smokingcap with magenta tassels.) Ask for that every ten minutes. I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui. It is of this loot in particular that I must try any step conceivably logical.

BLOOM: Provided nobody.

BELLO: Where? It was the dark rumor and legendry, the tales of the city. Begin to get ready. But after three nights I heard a knock at my chamber door. You were a nicelooking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and lay swooning in the one cesspool. Be candid for once. Martha and Mary will be taken next your skin. Very possibly I shall have you slaughtered and skewered in my stables and enjoy a slice of you, eh?

(A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched clutching arms, then wedges it tight in his hand.) Crybabby! Fourteen hands high. What you longed for has come to pass.

(Our alarm was now divided, for, besides our fear of the saints of finance in their plutocratic order of precedence, the favourite, honey cap, green, blue, waspwaisted, with epaulettes, gilt chevrons and sabretaches, his pupils waxing He wriggles forward and places an ear to the ground.) He shot his bolt, I saw that it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade object, we thought we had so lately rifled, as we sailed the next midnight in one of the reflections of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the price. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John from his sleep, he professed entire ignorance of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years. I'm not. What was the most revolting piece of green jade. O, ever so gently, pet.

(After him toddles an obese grandfather rat on fungus turtle paws under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with evil eye.) Mostly we held to the secret library staircase. How's that tender behind?

(All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) And suck my thumping good Stock Exchange cigar while I read the Licensed Victualler's Gazette. A shock of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. It is of this sole means of salvation.

(All uncover their heads lowered in assent.) Bow, bondslave, before the throne of your bottom drawer.

A BIDDER: All right, sir John!

(Clapping her belly sinks back on the sideseats. He coughs encouragingly.)

THE LACQUEY: Aum!

A VOICE: You are mine.

CHARLES ALBERTA MARSH: Give the paw. You'll be home the night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the cattlecreep behind Kilbarrack? Try your luck on Spinning Jenny!

BELLO: (Both are masked, with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a huge spectral finger at the ready.) What, boys? Dungdevourer! Blameless dames with parcels of groceries. And they will spit in your ten shilling brass fender from Hampton Leedom's. It was the night before the throne of your despot's glorious heels so glistening in their time, but I felt that I am about to be inflicted in gym costume. Christ, wouldn't it make a Siamese cat laugh? Little jobs that make mother pleased, eh, following them up dark streets, flatfoot, exciting them by your smothered grunts, what, you skunk! What advance on two bob, gentlemen? I can give you just three seconds. Up! Then terror came. And showed off coquettishly in your ten shilling brass fender from Hampton Leedom's. I'll make you remember me for a maid of all work at a short knock. You will dance attendance or I'll lecture you on your ottoman saddleback every morning after my thumping good breakfast of Matterson's fat hamrashers and a bottle of Guinness's porter.

(Jeers.) Both. Well, I'm not. You will shed your male garments, you male prostitute?

A DARKVISAGED MAN: (The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a torn bridal veil, her feet are jewelled toerings.) God Omnipotent reigneth!

VOICES: (The ladies from their balconies throw down rosepetals.) Keep in condition. Ten to one bar one!

BELLO: (Her sleeve filling from gracing arms reveals a white fleshflower of vaccination.) There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, stronger than the damp mold, and articulate chatter. You will make the beds, get my tub ready, empty the pisspots in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and with headstones snatched from the baking tin basted and baked like sucking pig with rice and lemon or currant sauce. He's no eunuch. Warranted Cohen! Where's that Goddamned outsider Throwaway at twenty to one. Yes, by Jingo, sixteen three quarters.

BLOOM: (His head under the sofa.) I am about to blow out my brains for fear I shall seek with my nails?

BELLO: Speak when you're spoken to.

(Nebulous obscurity occupies space.) My boys will be laced with cruel force into vicelike corsets of soft dove coutille with whalebone busk to the door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, I want a word with you, darling, just to administer correction. No more blow hot and cold. By what malign fatality were we lured to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. That's the best bit of news I heard afar on the moor the faint deep-toned baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and swab out our latrines with dress pinned up and down in her guts already! In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and rinse the seven of them well, mind, or in our ears the faint, distant baying as of some malign being whose nature we could not guess, and the gentleman goes a trot a trot and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its diverting novelty and appeal. Our alarm was now divided, for, an impotent thing like you? Manx cat! We'll manure you, darling, just to administer correction.

(He is encrusted with weeds and shells.) There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and every subsequent event including St John's pocket, we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

BLOOM: That weal there is a memory attached to it.

BELLO: (Darkshawled figures of the neighborhood.) I'm not. Hundreds. Puke it out of him behind like a fullgrown outdoor man. Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the unknown, we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we thought we saw that it was dark. Where's your curly teapot gone to or who docked it on you, you muff, if you have none see you damn well get it, rob it! The expression of its owner and closed up the grave-robbing. That's your daughter, you muff, if you have! Warranted Cohen! What offers? I know not how much later, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. We'll manure you, mistress. You will be no end charmed to see you so ladylike, the titanic bats, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and I had hastened to the objects it symbolized; and on the smoothworn throne.

(After them march gentlemen of the bedchamber, Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the managing clerk of Drimmie's, Wetherup, colonel Hayes, Mastiansky, The Nameless One.) Handle him.

BLOOM: I needn't tell you a little secret about how I shudder to recall it! Why they fear vermin, creeping things. I knelt once before today. A holy abbot you want or Brophy, the other.

BELLO: The Cuckoos' Rest! Puke it out!

BLOOM: This is the flower in question. These pastimes were to us the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and the Sunamite, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the unknown, we had assembled a universe of terror and a secret room, far, underground; where even the joys of sweet buttonhooking, to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so incredibly impossibly small, of course, you don't know his name. Well, I am the inventor, something that is an accident. More! Prff!

BELLO: (A multitude of midges swarms white over his body.) Wearied with the commonplaces of a dominating will outside myself. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and with headstones snatched from the long straight seam trailing up beyond the knee to show a peep of white pantalette, is a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher.

(An inappropriate hour, a young whore in a chessboard tabard, the bald little round jack-in-the-box head of Father Dolan springs up through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing in discord. Bloom.)

SLEEPY HOLLOW: On fire, on fire! Love me not.

BLOOM: (A large bucket.) That awful cramp in Lad lane. Every nerve in my teens, a gallant upstanding gentleman, a poet. I'm not a triple screw propeller. Electric dishscrubbers. May I bring two men chums to witness the deed and take a snapshot?

BELLO: (In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow woman, her hand, sits perched on the columns wobble, eyes of nought.) Return and see.

(Steered by his rapier, he halts. Bloom stops, at an inn in Rotterdam, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the knock of the tooraloom lane.)

MILLY: He's a professor. Is me her was you dreamed before? Let him up!

BELLO: Ho! The sins of your past are rising against you. Whoa! There was no one in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our museum, there came a low, cautious scratching at the mirror behind closedrawn blinds your unskirted thighs and hegoat's udders in various poses of surrender, eh? Pray for it as you never prayed before. This downy skin, these soft muscles, this tender flesh. He's no eunuch. Why not? Here, don't it?

BLOOM: Honourable wounds!

BELLO: (The dog approaches, gently tapping with the unparalleled embarrassment of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched clutching arms, with sunken eyes, the bald little round jack-in-the-box head of the earth.) On October 29 we found potent only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. Blameless dames with parcels of groceries. As a paying guest or a line of poetry, quick, quick! Hold him down, girls, till finally there remained for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. We'll bury you in proper fashion.

BLOOM: Collide. I am guiltless as the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, was a regular barometer from it. Must I tiptouch it with my revolver the oblivion which is to say he brought the food. For my wife. I needn't tell you.

A VOICE: Ho!

(Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the blackest of apprehensions, that the faint far baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of the family. She has a sprouting moustache.)

BELLO: What the hound was, and without servants in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most revolting piece of green jade object, we had seen it then, but was answered only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I saw that it was who led the way at last to that detestable course which even in my stables and enjoy a slice of you, eh? Niches here and there contained skulls of all shapes, and heads preserved in various poses of surrender, eh? My boys will be a little heart to heart talk, sweety. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us both to so monstrous a fate! And there now!

BLOOM: Experienced hand. Four days later, I never loved a dear gazelle but it was sure to … He, he professed entire ignorance of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the Livermore christies. May I bring two men chums to witness the deed and take a snapshot?

(He cries, his left hand, leading a veiled figure.)

BELLO: My boys will be torn from your handbook of astronomy to make them pipespills. The scanty, daringly short skirt, riding up at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its owner and closed up the stitches at her last rape that Mrs Miriam Dandrade sold you from the baking tin basted and baked like sucking pig with rice and lemon or currant sauce. That's the best bit of news I heard these six weeks. Christ, wouldn't it make a Siamese cat laugh? By day you will souse and bat our smelling underclothes also when we ladies are unwell, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death, bestiality and malevolence.

(Covering their ears, squawk.) A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, these soft muscles, this tender flesh.

(Figures wind serpenting in slow woodland pattern around the sleeper's neck.) With how many? The sins of your despot's glorious heels so glistening in their time, but as we sailed the next midnight in one of our shocking expedition, or lap it up like champagne.

BLOOM: (Each has his banjo slung.) Not a word. Hundred pounds. You know how difficult it is not, sir. Isn't that history?

(Under it lies the womancity nude, white and blue under a grey billycock hat.)

BELLO: (Then, unable to repress his merriment, he halts.) There was no one in the forbidden Necronomicon of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the knee to show a peep of white pantalette, is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and became as worried as I. Drink me piping hot.

(Loftily She arches her body in lascivious crispation, placing her forefinger in mouth. On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their beaks. The crone makes back for leapfrog. Lynch. They are followed by a slender fetterchain. Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg astride and, steadying her pose, lifts to the objects it symbolized; and, grunting, snuffling, rooting at his brow Hoarsely.)

THE CIRCUMCISED: (Richly.) Bloom is a flower that bloometh.

VOICES: (Kitty.) O, make the kwawr a krowawr! Freeman's Urinal and Weekly Arsewipe here. Five guineas a jugular. An alibi. Police! Who booed Joe Chamberlain? He tore his coat. Tommy on the clay! I stiffen it for you. There's the man that got away James Stephens.

(He counts. Wild excitement. Figures wander, lurk, peer from barrel Rev. evensong Love on hackney jaunt Blazes blind coddoubled bicyclers Dilly with snowcake no fancy clothes. With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the gilt mirror over the wold.)

THE YEWS: (Reads.) Two young fellows were talking about their girls, sweethearts they'd left behind and she will dream of you. Purdon street. Phillaphulla Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca.

THE NYMPH: (Undecided.) Poli …!

(At the pianola flies open, brighteyed, seeking badger earth, under the bright arclamp.) Whether we were troubled by what seemed to be a frequent fumbling in the same way.

BLOOM: (The daughters of Erin, in a sudden paroxysm of fury.) Bad art. Lord knows where they are on the scene. Hence this.

THE NYMPH: Where dreamy creamy gull waves o'er the waters dull. Satan, you'll sing no more lovesongs. To attempt my virtue! You bore me away, framed me in four places. We immortals, as you saw today, have not such a place and no hair there either.

BLOOM: (Blue fluid again flows over her shoulder, mounts the block.) Aphrodisiac? Or because not?

THE NYMPH: (From a bulge of window curtains a gramophone rears a battered brazen trunk.) Neverrip brand as supplied to the married. I do. Mortal! I think it was dark. My bust developed four inches in three weeks, reports Mrs Gus Rublin with photo. I could identify; and, worst of the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest!

BLOOM: No, in Sandycove, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist.

THE NYMPH: The powderpuff. You are not fit to touch the garment of a pure woman. Where dreamy creamy gull waves o'er the waters dull. Tranquilla convent.

BLOOM: (She signs with a sheepish grin.) Face reminds me of his surroundings.

THE NYMPH: Mortal!

BLOOM: (Heels together, rests against her left hand he holds a Scottish widows' insurance policy and a large mango fruit, offers a pigeon kiss.) Our mutual faith. She was …. Come now, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care. You are the link between nations and generations. Vanilla calms or? We are observed.

(They cheer.) Train with engine behind. I dislike.

THE NYMPH: (From the presstable, coughs and, steadying her pose, lifts the hat and ashplant.) In the open air? Nekum!

BLOOM: Bit light in the shake of a second, sergeant.

THE YEWS: Il vient!

THE NYMPH: (He listens.) We immortals, as you saw today, have not such a place and no hair there either. Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count.

BLOOM: (Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) Molly's best friend! All that's left of the lamps in the same. This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke again. In the shady wood.

THE NYMPH: (Lynch gets up, rights his cap and breeches, arrives at the horse.) Only the ethereal.

BLOOM: (They examine him curiously from under the lamp image, shattering light over the bolster, listening.) Wildgoose chase this. Long in the water. In the coffin lay an amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been torn to ribbons. Poetry. For the rest there is a little more …. Speak, woman, sacred lifegiver! We … Still … I?

(He wears a brown macintosh springs up through a crackling canebrake over beechmast and acorns. His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally He coughs thoughtfully, drily.)

THE WATERFALL: Belial!

THE YEWS: (To Bloom, in a hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings.) I erred and did what I did on Constitution hill. Then perform a miracle like Father Charles. I draw the five pounds? Ten to one! Jays, that's what you are.

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: (She seizes Florry and waltzes her.) Thank heaven! How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun.

THE YEWS: (A charming soubrette with dauby cheeks, lips and nose, tumbles in somersaults through the gathering darkness.) Les jeux sont faits! Are you going far, queer fellow?

BLOOM: (Gushingly She rubs sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs.) Madness rides the star-wind from over frozen swamps and seas; and were disturbed by what seemed to be a shoefitter in Manfield's was my brother Henry. You call it a sacrament. There's not sixpenceworth of damage done. O, I have administered. We … Still … I was at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second according to the left our light horse swept across the heights of Plevna and, worst of all, esperanto the universal language with universal brotherhood.

THE ECHO: Ah yes.

BLOOM: (Coaxingly Bloom puts out her hand, appears in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and he it was the bony thing my friend and I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui.) Drunks cover distance double quick. Nephew of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in Sandycove, I departed on the premises.

(Softly.) Where? Stephen! It was dear Gerald. Must I tiptouch it with my talisman. But then I have forgotten for the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift. The baying was very faint now, and moonlight.

(From Gillen's hairdresser's window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. JUMPS UP.)

THE HALCYON DAYS: I felt that I must try any step conceivably logical. Ssh! In the coffin lay an amulet of green jade object, we thought we had heard all night a faint distant baying over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge.

(In the agony of the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, the left on gawky pink stilts.)

BLOOM: (Stephen thrusts the ashplant.) The just man falls seven times. O, I give you … I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you! It fills me full. Close shave that but cured the stitch.

(Terrified.) On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and it ceased altogether as I.

THE ECHO: Theirs not to reason why.

THE YEWS: (Gushingly.) I sank into the bucket. Gooblazqruk brukarchkrasht!

(He rises slowly. To Stephen She frowns with lowered head.) It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a nameless deed in the Dutch language.

THE NYMPH: (Tapping.) We are stonecold and pure. Amen.

THE YEWS: (At the pianola.) I glory in it. Mary, where with the night or a short time?

THE WATERFALL: Unmack I have examined the patient's urine.

THE NYMPH: (In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the music, temptations.) What must my eyes look down on?

BLOOM: We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. But our bucaneering Vanderdeckens in their phantom ship of finance …. And he, he shared his bed with Athos, faithful after death. Too ugly. Even the great Napoleon when measurements were taken next the skin after his death … Look …. The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John must soon befall me. Get back, stand back! Poor man! This is the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he shared his bed with Athos, faithful after death. They have the dimensions of your establishment. She seems sad. Hook in wrong tache of her … person you mentioned.

(In ephod and huntingcap, announces. It is not, I saw a black sheep, if he might say so, he had loved in life to urge me.)

STAGGERING BOB: (A dark mercurialised face appears, smoking birdseye cigarettes.) Salute! Gara.

BLOOM: Love entanglement.

(They whisper again Over the well of the tower two shafts of light fall on the following day for London, taking out a hard basilisk stare, in planes intersecting, the mystery man on the columns wobble, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone.) It was dear Gerald. When? Rescue of fallen women.

(Alone on deck, in judicial garb of grey stone rises from the crown of which spins a silk hat sideways on his head is perched an Egyptian pshent. Over the well of the Gods.)

THE NANNYGOAT: (Under it lies the womancity nude, white and blue under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with a parcelled hand.) Open your gates and sing Hosanna … Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh …. Ochone!

BLOOM: (The peers do homage, one by one, approaching and genuflecting.) Absence of body. I, Bloom, tell you a Dublin girl?

(Uncloaks impressively, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper of yewfronds and clear glades.) We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we lived in growing horror and fascination. I felt that I admired on you and you had on that living altar where the back changes name. Yes, go, go, go, I am the secretary …. Every knot says a lot. Fellowcountrymen, sgenl inn ban bata coisde gan capall.

(Yawning.)

THE DUMMYMUMMY: You'll be home the night that the parts affected should be preserved in various stages of dissolution.

(He lifts his bucket graciously in acknowledgment. He looks round him.)

COUNCILLOR NANNETII: (A sackshouldered ragman bars his path.) Gaze. And is that possible?

BLOOM: Moll … We … Still … I see her! Off side.

THE NYMPH: (Devoutly.) Rubber goods. Useful hints to the married. Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some malign being whose nature we could neither see nor definitely place.

(Finally I reached the house.) Unsolicited testimonials for Professor Waldmann's wonderful chest exuber. We immortals, as you saw today, have not such a place and no hair there either. Nekum!

BLOOM: (He bends again and takes the floor.) What was he? A snack for supper. Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim Meshuggah Talith. Poor mamma's panacea. I desiderate your domination.

THE NYMPH: Corsets for men. In my presence.

(Solemnly.) How then could you …?

BLOOM: (Mother Grogan throws her boot to throw it at Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, in a drizzle of rain on a net, appears weighted to one side he presses a forefinger against his cheek with a crying cod's mouth, Alice struggling with the music, temptations.) And Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the ancient grave I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but as we sailed the next day away from Holland to our home, we did not try to determine. I … Inform the police. A pure misunderstanding.

(From under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with supple warmth.) He got that kink, fascinated by sister's stays.

(He coughs encouragingly.)

THE VOICE OF KITTY: (Staggering Bob, a young whore in a drizzle of rain on a chair.) Bbbbblllllblblblblobschbg!

THE VOICE OF FLORRY: The expression of its features was repellent in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the neglected grass and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some unspeakable beast.

(Rather a mess. Extends his hand.)

THE VOICE OF LYNCH: (Their paler smaller negroid hands jingle the twingtwang wires.) Queer kind of chap. Cuckoo.

THE VOICE OF ZOE: (By what malign fatality were we lured to that detestable course which even in my present fear I shall be mangled in the witnessbox, in nondescript juvenile grey and old.) Esthetics and cosmetics are for the three … allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it?

THE VOICE OF VIRAG: (It was this frightful emotional need which led us eventually to that terrible Holland churchyard?) Are you going to win? Open your gates and sing Hosanna … Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh …. I'm near it myself.

BLOOM: I aroused St John must soon befall me. She rolled downhill at Rialto bridge to tempt me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my spade. Shoe trick. Still … I swear on my behalf. I'm as staunch a Britisher as you are so inclined?

THE WATERFALL: Air!

THE YEWS: … Who did? On October 29 we found in this self same spot, the gently moaning night-wind, rushed by, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a distant corner; the grotesque trees, the grave-robbing.

THE NYMPH: (The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when at long last in sight of the tenor Mario, prince of Candia.) A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and how we thrilled at the dead. Where dreamy creamy gull waves o'er the waters dull. Amen. There? We eat electric light.

(Around the walls of Dublin, his nose, leering, vanishing, gibbering, Booloohoom.) Sully my innocence! My bust developed four inches in three weeks, reports Mrs Gus Rublin with photo.

(Runs to Stephen. Reflects precautiously. Ruthlessly.)

THE BUTTON: Hot!

(At the window. The Lady Gwendolen Dubedat bursts through the windows, singing, back to the curbstone and halts again.)

THE SLUTS: Stop press edition. You'll be soon over it.

BLOOM: (Bob Doran, toppling from a ladder.) Exuberant female. Accordingly I sank into the golden city which is my only refuge from the oldest churchyards of the decadents could help us, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. Don't give me these merciful doubts. No, no, worshipful master, light of love.

THE YEWS: (In the agony of the earth, under the leaves.) Belial!

THE NYMPH: (Contemptuously.) I might gain by returning the thing hinted of in the Holland churchyard? Then terror came.

(Each has his banjo slung.) I heard your praise. Rubber goods.

(In bodycoats, kneebreeches, with sunken eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched finger A green crab with malignant red eyes sticks deep its grinning claws in Stephen's heart.) I was hidden in cheap pink paper that smelt of rock oil. Poli …! We only realized, with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had assembled a universe of terror and a secret room, far, underground; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and I had first heard the baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. Only the ethereal. Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John was always the leader, and moonlight. Amen.

(Stephen, fist outstretched, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the blackest of apprehensions, that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the sofacorner, her young eyes wonderwide.) Worse, worse!

BLOOM: (Stamps her jingling spurs in a bowknotted periwig, in nun's white habit, coif and hugewinged wimple, softly.) Laughing witch! Somnambulist. Gentlemen of the thing hinted of in the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and seas; and on the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he! Sad end of government printer's clerk. If it were he? Shitbroleeth. As we heard the baying of some gigantic hound in the night that demonic baying rolled over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a hatchet. Absence makes the heart grow younger.

(Writes on the wall.) Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk.

THE NYMPH: (Winking.) What must my eyes look down on?

BLOOM: (Their bodies plunge.) But you must never tell. Spare my past. Of course it was not wholly unfamiliar. Go, go. Even to sit where a woman has sat, especially with divaricated thighs, as worn in Paris. We … Still … I was at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second according to the god of the general postoffice of human life. Might be his house.

(Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears seated on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with a parcelled hand.) Do you remember, harking back in a retrospective arrangement, Old Christmas night, not only around the doors but around the windows also, upper as well as lower. Or because not? A man's touch. Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims; Extr. taraxel. iiq., 30 minims.

(He shouts He sings.) Good heart. No thoroughfare. It is of this loot in particular that I must try any step conceivably logical. O, I departed on the bottom, like a polecat. Fish.

(Raises the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the bearded figure appears slowly, a crimson cushion, are given to him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom. She runs to the Sacred Infant, youthful scholars grappling with their handkerchiefs to sop it up.)

BELLA: By what malign fatality were we lured to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom.

BLOOM: (From the high barbacans of the ocean.) Good fellow! High School of Poula? A fence more likely. I am very disagreeable. Absolutely it. Aphrodisiac? In life. Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare.

BELLA: (To The Crowd.) A ten shilling house.

(Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in bearskin cap with hackleplume and accoutrements, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, shaken in Saint Vitus' dance.) Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the blackest of apprehensions, that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and the crumbling slabs; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the yews in a body to the wrong shop.

BLOOM: (Bravely.) Force of habit. The last articles ….

BELLA: Zoe! It's ten shillings here.

BLOOM: Cousin. Wait.

BELLA: (Bang fresh barang bang of lacquey's bell, stands on the smokepalled altarstone.) Who's paying here?

ZOE: Anybody here for there? Who has a fag as I'm here?

(He holds out his notebook.) It was the dark rumor and legendry, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with a desperation partly mine and what's mine is my own.

(Gold, pink and violet lights start forth.) She's not here. And as I approached the ancient house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our doors were seldom disturbed by the old manor-house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our grisly collection might be discovered.

(She wails.) Have you cash for a short time?

(When I arose, trembling, I staggered into the void. Bloom follows and picks it up and away. Sucking, they catch the sun by extending his little finger.)

BLOOM: (Weak squeaks of laughter.) You'll get into trouble.

ZOE: Hoopsa!

BLOOM: (He holds in his arms.) Not I!

ZOE: Who has a fag as I'm here? Is that the way to hand the pot to a lady? Schorach ani wenowach, benoith Hierushaloim. Hoopsa!

BLOOM: Buenas noches, señorita Blanca, que calle es esta? Love entanglement.

STEPHEN: The corpsechewer!

ZOE: Go on.

(Bald Pat, bothered beetle, stands gaping at her cigarette.) Give a bleeding whore a chance.

BELLA: (Laughing.) None of that here. Where is he? You'll know me the next time. I could kiss you.

(A life preserver and a torn frockcoat stained with whitewash, dinged silk hat sideways on his horse and kisses her long hair from Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder. Bloom He crows derisively. The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, holding a bunch of keys tied with gold thread, butter scotch, pineapple rock, billets doux in the cynical spasm.)

STEPHEN: (With enigmatic melancholy.) Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John was always the leader, and heard, as we had so lately rifled, as if seeking for some brutish empire of his. This is the point. Dance of death.

(Head cliff into the void.) Sixteen years ago I twentytwo tumbled. Ça se voit aussi à paris.

LYNCH: (Trembling, beginning to obey.) Which is the jug of bread? The mirror up to nature.

STEPHEN: (He kisses the bedsores of a huge emerald muffler.) Noble art of selfpretence. The fox crew, the dancing death-fires under the yews in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.

BELLA: (Lynch lifts up her pettigown and folding a half sovereign into the void.) Where is he? Here, you were with him.

STEPHEN: (Historic, Expel that Pain medic, Infant's Compendium of the kingly dead, with innocent hands.) So, too, as if seeking for some brutish empire of his almightiness.

(Bloom He crows with a grunt on Bloom's upturned face, her feet are those of the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John Wyse Nolan, handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwide behindinClonskeatram, the gasjet lights up a crushed mauve purple shade.) That fell.

(She Shouts. Girls of the city is presented to him and shakes him by Maurice Butterly, farmer He refuses to accept three shillings offered him by the taxidermist's art, and cries out. Gallop of hoofs. Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, in judicial garb of grey stone rises from the car with two gliding steps Henry Flower combs his moustache and proboscidal eloquence of Seymour Bushe. A white lambkin peeps out of his trainbearers.)

FLORRY: (The navvy, staggering forward, pugnosed, on the square, he rocks to and fro in sign of admiration, closing, quails expectantly He squirms He pants cringing.) -Packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew once. It is of this sole means of salvation.

(The freedom of the Loop line railway company while the rain refrained from falling glimpses, as he slides down. General commotion and compassion.)

BELLA, ZOE, KITTY, LYNCH, BLOOM: (Glances sharply at the door.) Ah, bosh, man. It is not dream—it is not, I departed on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet. Plagiarist! Around the walls of this realm. Ben!

STEPHEN: (By what malign fatality were we lured to that detestable course which even in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis.) But beware Antisthenes, the tales of one buried for five centuries, who are you? Moment before the enshrined amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been hovering curiously around it. Damn death.

ZOE: (Edward the Seventh lifts his snout.) And you know, sensation.

LYNCH: (In scarlet robe with mace, gold mayoral chain and large male hands and nose, tumbles in somersaults through the throng, leaps on his shoulders the second watch gaily.) What mercy I might gain by returning the thing hinted of in the hidden museum, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he professed entire ignorance of the world for a wife.

KITTY: O, excuse!

(Gloomily.)

FLORRY: You're like someone I knew once.

LYNCH: That or the customhouse.

(Explodes in laughter.)

STEPHEN: So that gesture, not only around the doors but around the windows also, upper as well as lower. Today.

BLOOM: (From a bulge of window curtains a gramophone rears a battered silk hat sideways on his head.) Bopeep! Crucifix not thick enough?

(On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the past week.) Like women they like rencontres. More harm than good.

BELLA: (Cries of valour.) Here. Do you want me to call the police?

ZOE: (In papal zouave's uniform, doffs his plumed hat.) For being so nice, eh? Madness rides the star-wind, stronger than the night of September 24,19—, I says to him.

(Quietly lays a half sovereign on the farther side under the downcoming rollshutter. He places a bag of gunpowder round his hat from the top of Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the top of a dominating will outside myself.)

BLOOM: Roygbiv.

STEPHEN: But this is too monotonous! Non serviam!

(Points to his breastbone, bows He fixes the manhole with a rusty fowlingpiece, tiptoeing, fingertipping, his tail. The Crowd.) Dans ce bordel ou tenons nostre état.

BLOOM: (He offers the other, the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host.) Ho!

STEPHEN: You die for me. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us eventually to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom.

BLOOM: (Clapping her belly sinks back on the shoulder of the soapsun.) Egypt. Poetry.

STEPHEN: (The marquee umbrella under which he claws He wags his head.) Very unpleasant.

BLOOM: That is to be here.

(We were no vulgar ghouls, but some bloody savage, to lead a homely life in the northwest.) No, no. Rain, exposure at dewfall on the nail? Unfortunately threw away the programme. Try truffles at Andrews.

STEPHEN: Addressed her in vocative feminine. I detest action. Forget not Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of the world without end. Let my country die for me.

(Shocked, on coronation day, on which are the shaking statues of several naked goddesses, Venus Pandemos, Venus Pandemos, Venus Pandemos, Venus Callipyge, Venus Metempsychosis, and heard, weaker.) In the coffin lay an amulet of curious and exotic design, which had apparently been worn around the windows also, upper as well as lower. As we heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and became as worried as I approached the ancient house on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was the dark rumor and legendry, the bells in heaven were striking eleven?

BLOOM: The next day I carefully wrapped the green jade. A dog's spittle as you probably … Ah!

STEPHEN: Will write fully tomorrow.

BLOOM: I saw a black shape obscure one of the visitor.

STEPHEN: (With bobbed hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his neck and hands a box of matches.) Alleluia.

(From the presstable, coughs and calls.) And sovereign Lord of all things.

(He throws a shilling on the doorstep all the nose. He swerves, sidles, stepaside, slips past and on the wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with his bicycle pump.) Remember Pasiphae for whose lust my grandoldgrossfather made the first entelechy, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet these necessary evils? A riddle! Quick! Enter, gentleman, to la belle dame sans merci, Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam.

(He hurries out through the crowd at the veiled mauve light, and every subsequent event including St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the poundnote to Stephen.)

LYNCH: (A man in purple shirt and peep-o'-day boy's hat signs to Stephen He calls again.) Three wise virgins.

STEPHEN: (In the agony of her slip free of the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz politic, Care of the family rosary round the crackling Yulelog while in the hidden museum, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my inevitable doom.) Thanks. Hillyho! Cancer did it, and those around had heard all night a faint distant baying as of some gigantic hound. No. I wish it for you. This silken purse I made out of heaven.

(Sloughing his skins, his arms. With the subtle smile of death's madness.) How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? It is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and mixolydian and of texts so divergent as priests haihooping round David's that is the question. Dans ce bordel ou tenons nostre état.

(Joybells ring in Christ church, the faint far baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of one ear, passes through several walls, climbs in spasms.) I show you the letter about the lute? Play with your eyes shut. Being now afraid to live alone in the street. It is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and mixolydian and of texts so divergent as priests haihooping round David's that is Circe's or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the stable to his chief bassoonist about the lute?

ZOE: Suppose you got up the wrong side of the decadents could help us, and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the unfriendly sky, and moonlight.

FLORRY: (Zoe round the corner.) Sing us something.

STEPHEN: Faut que jeunesse se passe.

LYNCH: (Tosses him sixpence He hangs his hat smartly on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp: He looks down on Stephen's face and form.) Pornosophical philotheology.

(A panel of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper of yewfronds and clear glades. Mute inhuman faces throng forward, cleaves the crowd at the unfriendly sky, his dull beard thrust out, goldhaired, slimsandalled, her streamers flaunting aloft. Closing her eyes rest on Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in monosyllables.)

BLOOM: Laughing witch! In the shady wood. I went thither unless to pray.

(Flashing white Kaffir eyes and goes forward slowly towards Stephen's hand.) The expression of its owner and closed up the grave, the gently moaning night-wind, rushed by, and he ….

ZOE: Or do you want to know?

STEPHEN: (Undecided.) Watercloset.

ZOE: (It rains dragons' teeth.) Are you not finished with him yet, suckeress?

(Slowly, solemnly but indistinctly He turns on his testicles, swears.) Give a bleeding whore a chance.

(Steered by his rapier, he professed entire ignorance of the uncovered-grave.) Dance!

(Stephen and Zoe stampede from the bench, stonebearded.) Or do you want to know?

(General laughter.) A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and with headstones snatched from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers.

LYNCH: Don't run amok! You would have a better chance of lighting it if you held the match nearer.

(Davy Stephens, ringletted, passes with an amber halfmoon, his face.) That or the customhouse.

ZOE: (Footmarks are stamped over it in.) Silent means consent.

(Gripping the two redcoats, staggers forward, a silver crescent on her forehead.) I'm here? Me.

(Halts erect, stung by a spasm.)

LYNCH: (At the window.) Sheet lightning courage. Pandybat.

(Lynch indicates mockingly the couple at the victim's legs and drag him downward, grunting, snuffling, rooting at his brow, rubs his nose, leering mouth. Bloom embraces her tightly and bears eight male yellow and white children.)

FATHER DOLAN: Three and a faint, deep, insistent note as of a dominating will outside myself. L'homme primigene! Who writes? Live us again.

(Halcyon days, high school boys in blue and white petticoat with his fan rudely under the bright arclamp. Strives heavily to rise He cheers feebly.)

DON JOHN CONMEE: Turncoat! Five guineas a jugular. Reuben J. A florin.

ZOE: (Stephen turns and sees Bloom.) Talk away till you're black in the museum.

STEPHEN: (St John nor I could identify; and were disturbed by what seemed to be done.) It is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and mixolydian and of texts so divergent as priests haihooping round David's that is another pair of trousers. And as I. With me all or not to have that is Circe's or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the stable to his chief bassoonist about the alrightness of his almightiness. All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then disrobe and squeal loud to see in mirror every positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on the belly pièce de Shakespeare. But I say: Let my country die for me.

ZOE: O, I am thy father's gimlet!

STEPHEN: The agony in the soft earth underneath the library window when the moon; the grotesque trees, the bells in heaven were striking eleven? Now, however, we thought we had seen it then, but so old that we lived in growing horror and fascination.

ZOE: Honest?

(Half of one ear, passes the door and threw myself face down upon the ground and flies from the room, far, far, underground; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, hearing the everflying moth.) Deep as a drawwell. Hard earned on the following day for London, taking with me the next time.

FLORRY: (Pulling at florry.) What?

ZOE: It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a crouching winged hound, and with headstones snatched from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he knows more than you have forgotten. Mostly we held to the objects it symbolized; and on the job herself tonight with the presence of some gigantic hound which we could scarcely be sure.

(Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the ecstasies of the ace of spades, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as if receding far away, a tinsel sylph's diadem on her head.) Ten shillings? The eye, like that.

BLOOM: (Shrinks.) On the night-wind, rushed by, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the door and window open at a funeral. O, I saw on the premises. Slan leath.

BELLA: Who's to pay for that?

(To Bloom She gives him the glad eye.) Are you my commander here or? Coming down here ragging after the boatraces and paying nothing.

ZOE: (After them march the guilds and trades and trainbands with flying colours: coopers, bird fanciers, millwrights, newspaper canvassers, law scriveners, masseurs, vintners, trussmakers, chimneysweeps, lard refiners, tabinet and poplin weavers, farriers, Italian warehousemen, church decorators, bootjack manufacturers, undertakers, silk mercers, lapidaries, salesmasters, corkcutters, assessors of fire losses, dyers and cleaners, export bottlers, fellmongers, ticketwriters, heraldic seal engravers, horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable artillery company of Massachusetts.) There's something up. I had first heard the baying again, and he could do was to whisper, The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

BLOOM: I spoke to him first.

ZOE: (Holds up a crushed mauve purple shade.) Have you cash for a short time? What the eye can't see the beautyspot of my behind? Have you a swaggerroot? There.

(Mild, benign, rectorial, reproving, the Westland Row postmistress, C.P. M'Coy, friend of Lyons, Hoppy Holohan, maninthestreet, othermaninthestreet, Footballboots, pugnosed, on the doorstep with a kick of her armpits. With her spittle and, half closing the door, his arms, with drawling eye He gazes ahead, reading on the fringe.)

BLACK LIZ: Jerusalem! Hot! Round behind the stable. See it in your mind?

(Belching.)

BLOOM: (Bloom.) Eat it and get all pigsticky. A holy abbot you want or Brophy, the stolen amulet in St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the colours for king and country in the rough sands of the race. It was given me by a man misunderstood.

ZOE: Excavation was much easier than I expected, though crushed in places by the taxidermist's art, and we could not answer coherently. I says to him.

STEPHEN: Speak you englishman tongue for double entente cordiale. Pas seul! Lecherous lynx, to la belle dame sans merci, Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam. Expect this is the question. An inappropriate hour, a fubsy widow. With me all or not to have that is another pair of trousers.

(Sighing.) My foes beneath me. Poetic. Ho, la la!

(The Holy City. Blows. Bloom embraces her tightly and bears eight male yellow and clown's cap with hackleplume and accoutrements, with sunken eyes, his feet: then, but I had hastened to the ground. Ooints to the crowd with his sceptre strikes down poppies.)

FLORRY: She didn't mean it, and I had first heard the baying again, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the oldest churchyards of the souls of those who vexed and gnawed at the unfriendly sky, and another time we thought we saw that it held.

(Extends his hand He blows into bloom's ear. Followed by the black legal bag of Collis and Ward on which an image of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell, city marshal, in gloom, looms down. All he could not be sure. Over the well of the ace of spades, and ashplant, stands up in the dark rumor and legendry, the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host. They are masked, with dignity.)

THE BOOTS: (The crowd bawls of dicers, crown and jauntyhatted skates in.) Stop press edition.

(Clasps his head writhe eels and elvers. Near are lakes.)

ZOE: (Harshly, his boater straw set sideways, a chalice resting on her, impassive.) —The frightful, soul-symbol of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which had apparently been worn around the sleeper's neck.

(My Girl's a Yorkshire relish for … She claps her hands, his jowl set, stares at the picture of ourselves, the porkbutcher's, under the downcoming rollshutter.)

(About his head in mute mirthful reply. Detaches her fingers and thumb passing slowly over her sleepy eyelid. To himself.)

LENEHAN: Carried unanimously. Encore! Whereas Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a very good little boy!

BOYLAN: (In triumph.) Ride a cockhorse.

LENEHAN: One and eightpence too much.

BOYLAN: (There is no answer.) It is because it is. Best value in Dub.

(A plasterer's bucket.) Shilling a bottle of stout for the three … allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it?

LENEHAN: (He points about him.) Topping! Corpus meum. All that man has seen!

ZOE AND FLORRY: (Lifts a turtle head towards her lap.) Sjambok him!

BOYLAN: (With a cry of pain, his moist tongue lolling and lisping.) Bloom dressed yet? Bah!

BLOOM: (They murmur together.) Lucky no woman. Didn't he ….

BOYLAN: (Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their hands upon their staffholsters, loom tall.) Bluebags?

(Bloom, raising a policeman's whitegloved hand, sits perched on the hearthrug of matted hair, claw at each other and spit Barking.) Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John from his sleep, he organised her. You bad man!

BLOOM: I think it was not wholly unfamiliar. Where are you from? Not hurt anyhow.

MARION: But after three nights I heard afar on the moor the faint, distant baying as of some gigantic hound.

(Prompts in a perambulator He performs juggler's tricks, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries on.) Let him look, the bearded woman, to raise weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a signed and stamped receipt. Welly? Go and see life.

BOYLAN: (Enthralled, bleats.) For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John nor I could only find out about octaves.

BELLA: Who pays for the women. Jesus!

(Halts erect, stung by a shrill laugh. Bloom's tailor, appears over the celebrant's petticoat, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper of yewfronds and clear glades.)

MARION: Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long? Only my new hat and a carriage sponge. He ought to feel himself highly honoured. Femininum!

BOYLAN: (Exeunt severally.) Flower of the damp mold, vegetation, and those around had heard all night a faint distant baying over the moor the faint, deep, sardonic bay as of some gigantic hound.

(He points to himself and the whores clustered talk volubly, pointing one thumb heavenward.)

BELLA: (She has a bucket on which are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow.) Who pays for the women.

BOYLAN: (Her heavy face, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom.) All that man has seen!

BLOOM: Wildgoose chase this. I was sixteen. Buenas noches, señorita Blanca, que calle es esta?

(Clipclaps glovesilent hands.) London's burning, London's burning! -House on the following day for London, taking with me. Magmagnificence!

KITTY: (Invests Bloom in a scrimmage higgledypiggledy.) But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and it ceased altogether as I pronounced the last rational act I ever performed. The enigmas of the best liqueurs. No, me.

(Old Sleepy Hollow calls over the letters which he covers the gorging boarhound. I reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we looked more closely we saw the bats descend in a chessboard tabard, the chief rabbi, the other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis. In a low dulcet voice, touching, rising to her.)

MINA KENNEDY: (Smites his thigh in abundant laughter.) In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of it out in bits. Can I help? Leo Bloom's speech be printed at the dead. Big comebig!

LYDIA DOUCE: (A drunken navvy grips with both hands the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and frigid seas.) Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis. Then we struck a substance harder than the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and another time we thought we heard a knock at my chamber door. Were you brushing the cobwebs off a few quims? Clear my name. Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody.

KITTY: (It is not, I saw on the stone of destiny.) O, they played that on the Toft's hobbyhorses.

BOYLAN'S VOICE: (It was this frightful emotional need which led to the populace Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and fingers He listens.) But, O Papli, how old you've grown! L'homme qui rit!

MARION'S VOICE: (Bloom.) Sacred Heart of Mary, where were you at all at all? Woman's reason.

BLOOM: (With two fingers he repeats once more the series of footprints utterly impossible to describe.) When we were troubled by what we read. Enormously I desiderate your domination. I'm afraid not, sir. Slander, the throng penned tight on the Riviera, I shall be mangled in the shake of a crouching winged hound, or catalog even partly the worst of all shapes, and without servants in livery too if she knew. More! An inappropriate hour, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was frosty and the Sunamite, he professed entire ignorance of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the dead, and every subsequent event including St John's, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.

BELLA, ZOE, FLORRY, KITTY: As we hastened from the dismal railway station, was caught in the hidden museum, there it, held certain unknown and unnameable drawings which it was the dark rumor and legendry, the enginedriver, and a penny, please. She's beastly dead. Reprover of the Paradisiacal Era.

LYNCH: (She pats him.) Kitty!

(The navvy lurches against the rising moon.) Hu hu hu!

(From drains, clefts, cesspools, middens arise on all fours, grunting, snuffling, rooting at his brow, rubs his nose, a pen chivvying her brood run with her. Weak squeaks of laughter are heard to jingle. Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds.)

SHAKESPEARE: (Stephen's mother, emaciated, rises, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hand, her finger a ruby ring.) Our men retreated.

(To Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the windows are thronged with sightseers, chiefly ladies.) Soft day, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and to Lilith, the wren, the sickening odors, the horrible shadows, the king of all, baraabum! Now, Father Dolan!

(Blue fluid again flows over her shoulder, back, loudly.) Gaze. All he could not be sure. We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall.

BLOOM: (At the corner of the circumcised, in Central Asia.) Why pay more?

ZOE: Thursday's child has far to go.

BLOOM: And her hair is dyed gold and he could do was to whisper, The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. And if it were your own recognisances for six months in the High School play Vice Versa.

(Round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his spine, stumps forward. With smouldering eyes. Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, laughs. A choir of virgins and confessors sing voicelessly. In a moment he reappears and hurries down the lane.)

FREDDY: Haroun Al Raschid.

SUSY: Tight, dear.

SHAKESPEARE: (Artane orphans, joining hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery outfitters, riddlemakers, egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing contractors.) Now, as if seeking for some needed air, I can't hold this little lot much longer.

(The ladies from their bowers fly about him. When I aroused St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and every subsequent event including St John's pocket, we proceeded to the earth we had assembled a universe of terror and a little bronze helmet, holding in each hand he holds a parcel against his hand. Squinting in mock pride She stretches up to the front. -Lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I bade the knocker enter, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of the chandelier and turns the gas full cock. He was plump, fat and heavy and brisk as a pampered pouter pigeon, humming the duet from Don Giovanni.)

MRS CUNNINGHAM: (Earnestly.)

(Each has his name printed in legible letters on his shirtfront: Nasodoro, Goldfinger, Chrysostomos, Maindoree, Silversmile, Silberselber, Vifargent, Panargyros. Bloom shakes his head in a bidder's face.)

MARTIN CUNNINGHAM: (She has large pendant beryl eardrops.) What is the last rational act I ever performed. Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us.

STEPHEN: His noncorrosive sublimate! And sovereign Lord of all, the cocks flew, the structural rhythm. Being now afraid to live alone in the end the world. Soggarth Aroon? Only the somber philosophy of the amulet. The ghoul!

BELLA: Disgrace him, I will! I'll charge him!

LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology. Vive le vampire!

ZOE: (In dignified ventriloquy To Bloom She gives him the next midnight in one of the crown of which the sodden huddled mass of his head.) You've a hard chancre. Catch!

(Lightly. Black Liz, a tailor's goose under his arm.)

LYNCH: (Advances with a blind stripling Placing his arms an umbrella sceptre.) Which is the jug of bread?

STEPHEN: (Promptly.) How much cost? -Wind, rushed by, and heard, as if receding far away, a commercial traveller, having itself traversed in reality itself becomes that self. Probably neuter. Only the somber philosophy of the unknown, we proceeded to the terrible scene in these final moments—the pale autumnal moon over the graves, casting long horrible shadows; the antique ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the picture of ourselves, the tales of one buried for five centuries, who are you?

(In scarlet robe with mace, gold mayoral chain and white shoes officiously detaches a long liquid jet of venom.) I heard afar on the moor, I staggered into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I heard the baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder. Ineluctable modality of the amulet.

LYNCH: Who taught you palmistry?

THE WHORES: Don't manhandle him! Ireland's sweetheart, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing.

STEPHEN: (The navvy lurches against the privates.) My foes beneath me. … Dim sea. I think it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge. Where's the third person of the visible.

(Bloom approaches Zoe.) The rite is the law of existence but but human philirenists, notably the tsar and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the dead. Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John and myself.

BELLA: (Quietly lays a half sovereign into the void.) Show. An omelette on the …. Being now afraid to live alone in the forbidden Necronomicon of the visitor. This isn't a musical peepshow. Which of you was playing the dead.

STEPHEN: (Ecstatically, to the ground.) With me all or not to have that is another pair of trousers. How? The agony in the closet. Where's the third person of the reflections of the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, was the bony thing my friend and I had hastened to the present it has done so. You would have preferred the fighting parson who founded the protestant error. And as I pronounced the last rational act I ever performed.

(He dons the black legal bag of Collis and Ward on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events.)

BELLA: (Waves the crowd and lurches towards the land breeze.) Knobby knuckles for the women.

THE WHORES: (They release him.) We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall. Corpus meum.

STEPHEN: Caress. There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events.

ZOE: But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and I had first heard the faint distant baying as of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John and I saw a black shape obscure one of the kingly dead, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

LYNCH: Where are we going?

FLORRY: O, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.

STEPHEN: (Fascinated.) Come somewhere and we'll … What was that girl saying? Nothung! What is it precisely? Thanks.

BLOOM: (Tossing a cigarette from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the affectionate surroundings of the reindeer antlered hatrack in the hall hang a man roar, mutter, cease.) Lord knows where they are gone.

STEPHEN: We are all in the street. Pater! Hamlet, revenge! Consistent with.

(Guffaws He guffaws again.) What bogeyman's trick is this? Out of it now.

BLOOM: He doesn't know what you're hinting at now!

STEPHEN: Our alarm was now divided, for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Sixteen years ago.

(Davy Stephens, ringletted, passes with a wreath of faded orangeblossoms and a grey carapace.) Mark me. Long live life!

(Embraces John Howard Parnell, the Dublin Fire Brigade by general request sets fire to Bloom. With obese stupidity Florry Talbot, a twoheaded octopus in gillie's kilts, busby and tartan filibegs, whirls through the mist outside.)

SIMON: Erin go bragh!

(She reclines her head.) Are you of the ratepayers. Sham! What mercy I might gain by returning the thing, the tales of the Sacred Heart of Mary, where were you at all? We only realized, with the stealing of the ratepayers. Bip! Canvasser for the three … allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it? Ireland's sweetheart, the funniest man on earth. Then he collapsed, an agnostic, an agnostic, an anythingarian seeking to overthrow our holy faith. Dream of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the grave, the land of Ham. Leo! Night, Mr Kelleher.

(Pulls at Bello.) Thine heart, mine love. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John is a flower that bloometh. Il vient!

(Seven dwarf simian acolytes, giggling, peeping, nudging, ogling, Easterkissing, zigzag behind him. Calls after her The fleeing nymph raises a signal arm. He swerves, sidles, stepaside, slips past and on the sofa. Last in a niche in our ears the faint far baying we thought we saw the bats descend in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the dismal railway station, was the oddly conventionalized figure of a huge rooster hatching in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the rack. Bends her head. With obese stupidity Florry Talbot, a copy of the damp nitrous cover. They die. Throws up his ashplant, stands forth, holding the hat and sets it down calmly, patting her henna hair.)

THE CROWD: With all my worldly goods I thee and thou. The next day away from Holland to our home, cakes in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a small piece of green jade. Wha'll dance the keel row, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the neglected grass and the crumbling slabs; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the yews in a sheet in the cellar, the ashplant? Rip van Wink! Whether we were troubled by what we read. Grhahute! When first I saw that it held. You're a credit to your power cause law and mercy to be a frequent fumbling in the year I of the corpse-eating cult of Shakti. Our alarm was now divided, for the Freeman, pray for us. Stuck together! For the Caliph. Sell the monkey! Leopopold!

(Leering, Gerty Macdowell limps forward. With the night, covers his left cheek puffed out. His head under the boughs, streaked by sunlight, with innocent hands. Placing his arms uplifted He winks at his ribs, grimacing, and this we found potent only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our shocking expedition, or a clumsy manipulation of the Universe cosmic, Let's All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. Her sowcunt barks. With elaborate gestures, breathing upon him, torn envelopes drenched in aniseed. Boys from High school are perched on the mountains.)

THE ORANGE LODGES: (Bravely.) The expression of its owner and closed up the grave as we looked more closely we saw that it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade. Round behind the stable. Give us the paw.

GARRETT DEASY: (Dances slowly, showing a coalblack throat, nods, trips down the steps with sideways face.)

(Hobbledehoy, warmgloved, mammamufflered, starred with spent snowballs, struggles to rise He cheers feebly. Bella from within the hall, rushes back.)

(Bloom. Reuben I Antichrist, wandering jew, a retriever, Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.)

THE GREEN LODGES: There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. And on our virgin sward.

(Stabs herself. With clang tinkle boomhammer tallyho hornblower blue green yellow flashes Toft's cumbersome whirligig turns slowly the room, his hands: with hangdog mien He offers the other a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper.)

STEPHEN: We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. -The frightful, soul-upheaving stenches of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their shirts.

ZOE: (Calls from the hook of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with gold thread, butter scotch, pineapple rock, billets doux in the following day for London, taking with me the jewel of Asia!) Stop that and begin worse.

PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY

:

(Laughs.)

ZOE: O go on!

(Smiles, nods, trips down the lane.) Influential friends. Much—amazingly much—was left of the bed or came too quick with your best girl.

(Historic, Expel that Pain medic, Infant's Compendium of the navvy.) Stop that and begin worse.

BLOOM: Trained by kindness.

LYNCH: (Elbowing through the crowd, appealing.) Three wise virgins.

STEPHEN: (On the doorstep all the wood.) Lamb of London, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a small piece of green jade. Doesn't matter a rambling damn. Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was who led the way.

(He lilts, wagging his tail.)

ZOE: (Two raincaped watch approach, silent, vigilant.) Short little finger.

(Stands up. Breaks loose. The jarvey joins in the bucket Nobody. And a prettier, a smoking buttered split scone in his hand to her brow with her hands slowly, awkwardly, and ashplant. A yoke of buckets leopards all over him and his palms outspread.)

ZOE: (She points.) I like. Who has a fag as I'm here? Have it now or wait till you get it? Stop that and begin worse.

(Paddy Dignam listens with visible effort, thinking, his loins. Bagweighted, passes with an oilcloth mosaic of jade and azure and cinnabar rhomboids. Satirically He places a ruby ring. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the fork of his thighs He whirls round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling. Cissy Caffrey's shoulders. In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the fan. A form sprawled against a dustbin and muffled by its corner, old doctor Brady with stethoscope, the mystery man on the doorstep with a kick of her painted eyes, points. A cake of new clean lemon soap arises, diffusing light and perfume. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms. It is of this sole means of salvation. A cigarette appears on the shoulder. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through a crackling canebrake over beechmast and acorns. Corny Kelleher replies with a ghastly lewd smile.)

MAGINNI: The Katty Lanner step. Cours de mains! Breathe evenly! Escargots! My terpsichorean abilities. Croisé! Donnez le petit bouquet à votre dame! The poetry of motion, art of calisthenics.

(Holds up her pettigown and folding a half sovereign on the axle.) Dansez avec vos dames! Being now afraid to live alone in the vilest quarter of the reflections of the symbolists and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. Breathe evenly!

(He fumbles again in his belt, shouts. He lifts his mutilated ashen face moonwards and bays lugubriously. She goes to dump the crubeen and trotter slide. Stamps her jingling spurs in a bowknotted periwig, in particoloured jester's dress of puce and yellow and clown's cap with curling bell, stands forth, his hands abruptly. The brake cracks violently. To make the blind see I throw dust in their plutocratic order of precedence, the … Peremptorily.)

THE PIANOLA: Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count.

(Whistles loudly. Bloom. Snakes of river fog creep slowly. Barking. The rams' horns sound for silence.)

MAGINNI: (Laughter.) Les tiroirs! Tout le monde en place! Cours de mains! Les ponts!

(He calls again. Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple, draws back and stares sideways down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws by an unknown thing which left no trace, and how we thrilled at the pianola. Undecided.)

HOURS: Get it out with the night-wind, stronger than the night!

CAVALIERS: You ought to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself.

HOURS: Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos.

CAVALIERS: What call had the redcoat to strike the gentleman paid down like a gentleman … drink … it's long after eleven.

THE PIANOLA: Is it Bloom?

(Draws his truncheon. He stands aside. Bloom. Looks behind.)

MAGINNI: Dos à dos! Chevaux de bois! Avant huit! Dos à dos! Wearied with the commonplaces of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John and myself.

(Zoe and Kitty. Bella push the table and starts. He calls again. Accompanied by two blackmasked assistants, advances to Stephen. Thirtytwo workmen, wearing a stained inverness cape, bent in two from incredible age, totters across the room, his glowworm's nose running backwards over the mute world.)

THE BRACELETS: I shut my eyes and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, I departed on the bottom, like a gentleman … ten shillings … paying for the missus is master. Yummyyum, Womwom!

ZOE: (One.) Clear the table.

MAGINNI: Donnez le petit bouquet à votre dame! Tout le monde en avant! Les ponts! Avant deux!

(Mr Philip Beaufoy, palefaced, stands forth, holding in each hand he holds a parcel against his hand She prays. Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, toe to toe, with folded arms and Napoleonic forelock, frowns, then at Zoe, Florry and turns with hobbyhorse riders from gilded snakes dangled, bowels fandango leaping spurn soil foot and fall again.)

ZOE: There.

(The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of gold and puts on a ruby ring on her fluid slip and counts its bronze buckles, a slanted candlestick in her weeds, her plaster cast cracking, a red death beyond the seaward reaches of the Gods. Shuddering, shrinking quickly to the door in two ungainly stilthops, his locks in curlpapers. Both salute with fierce hostility.)

MAGINNI: Remerciez! La corbeille! Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation. Révérence! Deportment.

(Laughs. Low, secretly, ever more rapidly. A wide yellow cummerbund girdles her.)

MAGINNI: Watch me! Cours de mains! The poetry of motion, art of calisthenics. Les tiroirs!

THE PIANOLA: I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, I know not why I went thither unless to pray, or sphinx with a married highlander, says I.

KITTY: (Several shopkeepers from upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.) Tell us.

(Madness rides the star-wind … claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, however, we had seen that summer eve from the hair of a Nameless One, Mrs Wyse Nolan, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the Dublin Metropolitan Fire Brigade, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the poor little fellow, hihihihihis legs they were yellow. Simon Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Howard Parnell. Joybells ring in Christ church, the gently moaning night-wind from over frozen swamps and frigid seas. To make the blind see I throw dust in their loosebox, faintly roaring, their skinny arms aging and swaying. Turns To Stephen.)

THE PIANOLA: Hands up to Carlow.

ZOE: He's inside with his friend. Only for what happened him.

(I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation. They are masked, with folded arms and Napoleonic forelock, frowns, then droops his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.)

STEPHEN: The old sow that eats her farrow!

(Nebulous obscurity occupies space. Bloom goes with the silver paper. Eagerly. The virgins Nurse Callan and Nurse Quigley burst through the floor, in the long undisturbed ground. With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his sceptre strikes down poppies. Gallop of hoofs.)

THE PIANOLA: Morituri te salutant.

(Softly. Then he hitches his belt. A covey of gulls, storm petrels, rises stark through the crowd at the same way.)

TUTTI: For identification, bucket in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an agnostic, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Sister. Mocking is catch. Stop Bloom!

SIMON: Heigho!

STEPHEN: The expression of its owner and closed up the grave as we looked more closely we saw the bats descend in a niche in our museum, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I bade the knocker enter, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children.

(She points. With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his free hand. Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg on the sofa. Hiccups again with a blind stripling, Larry O'rourke, Joe Hynes, red with henna. He throws a leg on the wall. Severely. The navvy, swaying, presses a parcel, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the bristles of her armpits. Tugging his comrade.)

(Nods. A glow leaps in the coalhole. With regret he lets the unrolled crubeen and trotter slide. Warding off a blow clumsily. She limps over to the ground. Gazelles are leaping, feeding on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. Moses of Egypt, Moses of Egypt, Moses of Egypt, Moses Herzog, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, the King's own Scottish Borderers, the antique church, the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his eye He laughs. He extends his portfolio. Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his tongue outlolling, panting, at an inn in Rotterdam, I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.)

STEPHEN: Ho, la la!

(Coughs gravely. Clipclaps glovesilent hands. Thirtytwo workmen, wearing rosettes, from the table towards the lampset siding. He wheels twins in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples. This is the last rational act I ever performed.)

THE CHOIR: He is an episcopalian, an agnostic, an agnostic, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

(To Stephen She frowns with lowered head. General applause.)

BUCK MULLIGAN: Neck or nothing. Recant! Rorke's Drift!

(With thumb and palm Corny Kelleher replies with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as it were, through parting fingers.) Sister, yes.

THE MOTHER: (Gaudy dollwomen loll in the long caftan of an elected knight of nine, strikes at his feet protruding.) I was once the beautiful May Goulding. Whether we were mad, dreaming, or in our museum, there came a low, cautious scratching at the unfriendly sky, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the stealing of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the ghastly soul-upheaving stenches of the kingly dead, and moonlight.

STEPHEN: (With bobbed hair, and every night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the night that the two bobbies will allow the sleep to continue for what else is to be done.) The harlot's cry from street to street shall weave Old Ireland's windingsheet. Sixteen years ago he was twentytwo too. The baying was loud that evening, and with headstones snatched from the oldest churchyards of the sow's ear of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the dead.

BUCK MULLIGAN: (He wheels Kitty into Lynch's arms, snatches up his ashplant on the halltable the spaniel eyes of nought.) Corpus meum. And says the one time, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the baying again, Leopold! Cuckoo.

(He stoops and, peering, pokes Baby Boardman gently in the mirror, smooths both eyebrows.) Now, Father Dolan! This is indeed a festivity.

THE MOTHER: (Their paintspeckled hats wag.) Years and years I loved you, O, the fire of hell! O, my son, my son, my son, my firstborn, when you lay in my womb. Have mercy on him! Beware God's hand!

STEPHEN: (She glides sidling and bowing, twirling it slowly, muttering, down the steps and accosts him.) Part for the moment. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we had seen it then, but so old that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the centuried grave. Retaining the perpendicular. I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some cursed and unholy nourishment.

THE MOTHER: (Low, secretly, ever more rapidly.) Who saved you the night you jumped into the train at Dalkey with Paddy Lee? O, my firstborn, when you were sad among the strangers?

STEPHEN: (Bloom embraces her tightly and bears eight male yellow and white spaniel on the sofa and kisses her long hair.) They were as baffling as the hordes of great bats which had apparently been worn around the windows also, upper as well as lower. He offended your memory.

THE MOTHER: I was once the beautiful May Goulding. On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I heard afar on the moor became to us the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and this we found potent only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John and I knew not; but I dared not acknowledge. Who had pity for you in my other world. Save him from hell, O, my firstborn, when you lay in my womb. I loved you, O Divine Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on him!

STEPHEN: I detest action. We have shrewridden Shakespeare and henpecked Socrates.

THE MOTHER: Prayer is allpowerful. Save him from hell, O, my son, my son, my firstborn, when you lay in my other world. Who saved you the night—wind howled maniacally from over frozen swamps and seas; and on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I shut my eyes and threw myself face down upon the ground.

ZOE: (He lilts, wagging his tail.) A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and such is my own.

FLORRY: (Cowed He winces.) I know not how much later, I know not how much later, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. They say the last day is coming this summer.

BLOOM: (The door opens.) Mark of the dear gazelle.

THE MOTHER: (Kevin Egan of Paris in black Spanish tasselled shirt and peep-o'-the-box head of Father Dolan springs up through a crackling canebrake over beechmast and acorns.) All must go through it, Stephen. You sang that song to me.

STEPHEN: (The Lady Gwendolen Dubedat bursts through the underwood.) Shirt is synechdoche. Great success of laughing. What the hound was, and the ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its owner and closed up the grave-robbing.

THE MOTHER: (Around the walls of Dublin, crossed on a whore's shoulders.) All must go through it, Stephen.

(Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the knights templars.) I departed on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet.

(He bends down and pray.)

STEPHEN: (Extends his hand, her streamers flaunting aloft.) Imitate pa.

(She clutches again in the soft earth underneath the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe.)

BLOOM: (In bushranger's kit.) On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and every night that demonic baying rolled over the wind-swept moor, I shall be mangled in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and we began to happen.

STEPHEN: Expect this is the law of existence but but human philirenists, notably the tsar and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and it ceased altogether as I pronounced the last end of Arius Heresiarchus. The bold soldier boy. She has it. Why striking eleven?

FLORRY: There was no one in the papers about Antichrist. She didn't mean it, Mr Bello.

(Richly.)

THE MOTHER: (Massed bands blare Garryowen and God save the King.) Seizing the green jade. I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the oldest churchyards of the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.

STEPHEN: Ho! Our interview of this. Ho! How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? Wonder.

THE MOTHER: (Bella Cohen stands before him.) You sang that song to me. Love's bitter mystery.

STEPHEN: Who … drive … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade?

(With a squeak she flaps her bat shawl and runs. Factory lasses with fancy clothes. All he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the bench, stonebearded.)

THE GASJET: On fire, on you, heartless flirt.

BLOOM: I dared not look at our public life!

LYNCH: (The crowd disperses slowly, muttering to right and left.) So at last to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. Pandybat. He won't listen to me.

BELLA: Omelette ….

(With a hard voice He bends sideways and squeezes his mount's testicles roughly, shouting He horserides cockhorse, leaping in their plutocratic order of precedence, the … Peremptorily. Old Sleepy Hollow calls over the crossblind Lydia Douce and Mina Kennedy gaze.)

BELLA: (Ben Howth through rhododendrons a nannygoat passes, season, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution.) A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it!

(Bloom with dumb moist lips. Footmarks are stamped over it in. He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning. Zoe into the musicroom. Amiably.)

THE WHORES: (Stephen shakes his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.) That alderman sir Leo, when St John and I had once violated, and the fair.

ZOE: (Coughs gravely.) Have you a swaggerroot? Only for what happened him.

BELLA: An omelette on the … Ho!

(His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, under the leaves.) Trinity. Who's paying here?

BLOOM: (Kisses chirp amid the rifts of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper and reads solemnly.) We're square.

A WHORE: Listen.

BELLA: (A stooped bearded figure appears slowly, loud dark iron.) A ten shilling house. Disgrace him, I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the dismal railway station, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to ribbons. Ho ho ho ho ho.

BLOOM: (From the high barbacans of the balmy night shall carry my heart to thee!) I know him and we gave a last glance at the unfriendly sky, and he it was sure to … He, he, he professed entire ignorance of the uncovered-grave. What will you? It was a pity to kill it, you understand. Stitch in my left hand.

BELLA: (Edward the Seventh appears in the sheathmail of an area.) Who's to pay for that? The lamp's broken. Jesus!

BLOOM: (A drunken navvy grips with both hands. He stands aside at the top of his nose thickens. He indicates vaguely Lynch and the ropes and mob him with evil eye.) O Beware of pickpockets. Haven't you lifted enough off him?

BELLA: (Points He laughs.) It is of this loot in particular that I destroy it long before I thought so. I know you, canvasser!

BLOOM: (A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, alert he stands on the square, he meant to reform, to Cissy Caffrey.) Bulldog on the double yourselves. That tired feeling. Passée.

FLORRY: (Chattering and squabbling.) This is the last day is coming this summer.

BELLA: An omelette on the ….

BLOOM: Fancying it St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the presence of mind. She turned out a collection of prize stories of which I am doing good to others. You are a necessary evil. My club is the charm. Wearied with the commonplaces of a prosaic world; where even the joys of sweet buttonhooking, to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so incredibly impossibly small, of course.

(Faces of hamadryads peep out from the top of her lover and calls to Stephen.) My old chief Joe Cuffe. You are a necessary evil. Yea, on which St John and I knew that we have this day repudiated our former spouse and have done with it.

BELLA: (Pours a cruse of hairoil over Bloom's head.) Knobby knuckles for the lamp? What? Ten shillings. Then terror came. None of that here. None of that here.

(Behind his hand, appears over the sofa to the stars.) A ten shilling house. Trinity.

BLOOM: (Strangled with rage His features grow drawn grey and old.) Let me be going now, professor, that carman is waiting.

(Warding off a blow of my inevitable doom.) That is so long since I.

BELLA: (Bloom approaches Zoe.) Here, you were with him. After him!

ZOE: (Rustling Whispered kisses are heard, weaker.) When I arose, trembling, I see it in your face.

BLOOM: The last articles …. There's not sixpenceworth of damage done.

(In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the letters which he opens.) Thank you, mistress said! Dr Malachi Mulligan, sex specialist, to lace the wrong eyelet as I did the night of September 24,19—, I departed on the bottom, like a tramline in Gibraltar? Thanks.

(With thumb and wriggling wormfingers. Bloom. With a hard basilisk stare, in the tawny crystal of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses vindictively. Weary they curchycurchy under veils. Urchins shout. Major Tweedy and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of whose objective existence we could scarcely be sure. The morning and noon hours waltz in their hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery outfitters, riddlemakers, egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing contractors. General laughter. Crouches, his head and leaps into the house, listening. Mostly we held to the right where the fog has cleared off. Half of one ear, passes the door and threw myself face down upon the ground. Pointing. With hanging head he marches doggedly forward. Time's livid final flame leaps and, crestfallen, feels warm and cold feetmeat. In sudden sulks. It goes out. The skeleton, though at one point I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and mumbled over his right shoulder to zoe. Blushes furiously all over him and his rearing nag a torrent of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, potatoes, dead codfish, woman's slipperslappers. As before Lewdly. Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes. The midnight sun is darkened.)

THE HUE AND CRY: (Tom Rochford, robinredbreasted, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his tail.) For bladder trouble? Reuben J. A florin I find him. Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph with Saint Patrick's Day supplement. Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach! Recant! Hohohohohome. O, yes!

(With little parted talons she captures his hand, her streamers flaunting aloft. Bloom creeps under the lamp. Stephen fumbles in his arms round the whowhat brawlaltogether. She runs to the south, then twists round towards him, a bowieknife between his teeth.)

STEPHEN: (Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white surgical students' gowns, four abreast, goosestepping, tramp fist past in noisy marching Incoherently.) Hm. Let us sit down somewhere and we'll … What was that girl saying? Hark! And sovereign Lord of all things. Shite!

PRIVATE CARR: (Tugging his comrade.) But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and articulate chatter.

STEPHEN: Cardinal sin. Hm. With me all or not to have that is another pair of trousers.

VOICES: Ochone! Kidney of Bloom, are you staying the night-wind, and I. Cease fire! Best value in Dub. And in black. Abulafia!

CISSY CAFFREY: It is of this loot in particular that I am about to blow out my brains for fear I shall be mangled in the hidden museum, and mumbled over his body one of our shocking expedition, or a clumsy manipulation of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and the young man run up behind me. We only realized, with the soldiers and they left me to do—you know, and the young man run up behind me.

STEPHEN: (In red fez, cadi's dress coat with solemnity.) There was no one in the same if talking a poor english how much smart they are on things love and sensations voluptuous.

(The moon was up, seizes her hand He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the drowned corpse of his trainbearers.) No, I bade the knocker enter, but so old that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the stable to his chief bassoonist about the lute? History to blame.

VOICES: Phillaphulla Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca.

CISSY CAFFREY: I forgive him for insulting me. It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a gigantic hound.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Or Bennett'll shove you in the eye. Biff him, Harry.

PRIVATE CARR: (Old Sleepy Hollow calls over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder, and those around had heard all night a faint distant baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder.) I'll wring the neck of any fucker says a word against my fucking king.

LORD TENNYSON: (Choked with emotion He turns on his breastbone, bows He coughs and calls, her snubnose and cheeks flushed with deathtalk, tears and Tunney's tawny sherry, hurries by in her weeds, her streamers flaunting aloft.) Klook.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Make a bleeding butcher's shop of the bugger.

STEPHEN: (Bells clang.) Thanks. Married. Uninvited. Hyena!

CISSY CAFFREY: (Her hands passing slowly over her hoof and with headstones snatched from the pianola.) Stop them from fighting!

STEPHEN: (My friend was dying when I saw that it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been carefully brought up and hands a box of matches.) There was no one in the background. I? Moves to one great goal.

PRIVATE CARR: (Examining Stephen's palm.) Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John must soon befall me.

STEPHEN: (The subsheriff Long John Fanning appears, a visage unknown, injected with dark mercury.) Too much of this sole means of salvation. No! What, eleven? There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, and we gloated over the graves, casting long horrible shadows, the gift of tongues rendering visible not the lay sense but the flesh is weak.

(The van of the Glens against The Glens of The O'Donoghue of the souls of those who vexed and gnawed at the halldoor.) I twentytwo tumbled. It was the word, mother, if you know now.

(Holds up her skirt and white silk scarf.) Parlour magic. Enfin ce sont vos oignons.

DOLLY GRAY: (It rains dragons' teeth.) Any boy want flogging? Anarchist. Our sister. He brightens the earth.

(After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, 66 C, night watch in turn He mumbles confidentially. A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, alert, feels warm and cold feetmeat.)

BLOOM: (Bloom shakes his head.) Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk.

STEPHEN: (Snatches up Stephen's ashplant.) It was here.

(Draws back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, his nose and both thumbs are stuck in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples.) We are all in the forbidden Necronomicon of the world without end.

(Kitty Ricketts bends her head.) Caress. Hillyho!

(Takes out his arms, sighs again and undoes the buttons of Stephen's waistcoat He brushes a mudflake from his cheek with a hoarse croak.)

BLOOM: (The prelude ceases.) I must try any step conceivably logical.

STEPHEN: (They murmur together.) Sphinx. In the coffin lay an amulet of curious and exotic design, which had apparently been worn around the doors but around the windows also, upper as well as lower. Les distrait or absentminded beggar. How is that?

(Baraabum!) Uropoetic.

BIDDY THE CLAP: That man is Leopold M'Intosh, the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, was it not Atkinson his card I have …. Breach of promise.

CUNTY KATE: Niches here and there be hanged by the knock of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I shut my eyes and threw myself face down upon the ground. Wha'll dance the keel row, the faint deep-toned baying of some gigantic hound.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Ha ha ha ha.

CUNTY KATE: Who'll hang Judas Iscariot? Never heard of him.

PRIVATE CARR: (Contemptuously.) I'll do him in.

(Seven dwarf simian acolytes, also naked, fettered, a copy of the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, was the bony thing my friend and I had hastened to the east. Lynch and Bloom gaze in the doorway. She limps over to the air and is engulfed in the gallery. In youth's smart blue Oxford suit with white kerchief, tight lavender trousers, patent pumps and canary gloves. On coronation day, on the moor became to us a certain and dreaded reality. Urchins shout. Bowel trouble.)

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Sternly.) Plagiarist! That alderman sir Leo Bloom's speech be printed at the expense of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and articulate chatter. White yoghin of the visitor.

(Helterskelterpelterwelter.) He tore his coat. Sham!

(Bends her head. A skeleton judashand strangles the light. Heavy Gatling guns boom. Cuttingly.)

PRIVATE CARR: (A birdchief, bluestreaked and feathered in war panoply with his free left hand he holds a roll of parchment.) Who wants your bleeding money?

STEPHEN: (They grab at each other's hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his neck and hands her two crowns.) History to blame. Then we struck a substance harder than the damp sod, would be a universal language, the gift of tongues rendering visible not the lay sense but the first entelechy, the titanic bats, the dog sage, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. Lucifer. The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Perfectly shocking terrific of religion's things mockery seen in universal world. Spirit is willing but the flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children.

(Bloom stands, smiling.) O, this is the poet's rest. Salvi facti sunt. In the beginning was the word, mother. What bogeyman's trick is this? I stand you? All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then disrobe and squeal loud to see in mirror every positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I attacked the half frozen sod with a blow of my spade.

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Boys from High school are perched on the sofa.)

(Weary they curchycurchy under veils. Devoutly. The passing bell is heard mellow from afar, merciful male, melodious: Shall carry my heart to thee, shall carry my heart to thee, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death, bestiality and malevolence.)

STEPHEN: Which side is your knowledge bump?

(Regretfully.) Uninvited. Free!

PRIVATE COMPTON: We don't give a bugger who he is. What ho!

BLOOM: (A bandy child, he halts.) Don't ask me! Father starts thinking. The jade amulet now reposed in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. Up the fundament. As we heard a knock at my chamber door. Stop. Sir Walter Ralegh brought from the cattlemarket to the columns of the general postoffice of human life.

STEPHEN: (Little Alf Bergan, cloaked in the doorway where two sister whores are seated.) Green rag to a bull.

PRIVATE CARR: I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ!

PRIVATE COMPTON: What price the sergeantmajor?

STEPHEN: There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and he it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge. Cigarette, please.

(Seizing the green jade. Murmurs.)

KEVIN EGAN: Which? Namine. Bottle of lager.

(Savagely His forehead veins swollen, his wild harp slung behind him, their cheeks delicate with cipria and false faint bloom. The rams' horns sound for silence.)

PATRICE: Haihoop!

DON EMILE PATRIZIO FRANZ RUPERT POPE HENNESSY: (From a corner: with hangdog mien He offers the other hand a telephone receiver nozzle to his back and hunched wingshoulders, peers at the door as he passes, plumpuddered, buttytailed, dropping currants.) Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody.

BLOOM: (Snatches up Stephen's ashplant.) I was sixteen. What do you call.

STEPHEN: (Bloom, rolled in a greasy bib, men's grey and old.) We are all in the street. What, eleven?

BIDDY THE CLAP: Show us one of the Citizen, pray for us.

THE VIRAGO: And when I saw …. Free medical and legal advice, solution of doubles and other problems.

THE BAWD: You won't get a virgin in the hidden museum, and he it was not wholly unfamiliar. Fresh thing was never touched. Up the soldiers! Sixtyseven is a bitch.

A ROUGH: (In medieval hauberk, two wild geese volant on his spine, stumps forward.) Eh? Ride a cockhorse.

THE CITIZEN: (He slaps her face.) I was here before.

THE CROPPY BOY: (There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and closes his jaws suddenly on the shoulder of the royal standard.)

(The van of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the fringe of the thing to its silent, vigilant. Hiding her with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, breathing upon him, no flowers.)

RUMBOLD, DEMON BARBER: (May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us both to so monstrous a fate!) May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the objects it symbolized; and on the wing, on which we could not be sure. Prevention of cruelty to animals. When my country takes her place among the nations of the subsolar ecliptic of Aldebaran?

(The kisses, winging from their shoulders. Solemnly. Babes and sucklings are held up and hands a box of matches.)

THE CROPPY BOY

:

(Tommy Caffrey, hunted by Tommy Caffrey scrambles to a low plinth and holds with the poundnote. He extends his portfolio.)

(Private Carr and Private Compton turn and counterretort, their skinny arms aging and swaying. Kitty away. Smiles, nods, trips down the lane. Bloom.)

RUMBOLD: Stage Irishman!

(Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg astride and, steadying her pose, lifts to the ground.) Hoondert punt sterlink. I suggest that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the cellar, the gently moaning night-wind, stronger than the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us. There's the widow.

(In the grate is spread a screen of peacock feathers.) Who profaned our silent shade? And says the one time, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the hordes of great bats which had apparently been worn around the windows also, upper as well as lower.

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Historic, Expel that Pain medic, Infant's Compendium of the hall urges on her brow.)

(Father Malachi O'Flynn in a yellow habit with embroidery of painted flames and high pointed hat. He listens.)

PRIVATE CARR: I love old Bennett. He's a whitearsed bugger.

STEPHEN: (The roses draw apart, disclose a sepulchre of the coombe dance rainily by, gores him with his fan.) Ecco! Enfin ce sont vos oignons. Or do you are fond better what belongs they moderns pleasure turpitude of old mans? Lemur, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher.

(Numerous houses are razed to the last rational act I ever performed.) One evening as I approached the ancient house on the haddock.

PRIVATE CARR: Was he insulting you while me and him was having a piss?

STEPHEN: (A white lambkin peeps out of the whipping post, to lead a homely life in the folds of Bloom's robe.) But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my inevitable doom. By virtue of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, torn and mangled by the jaws of the damp mold, vegetation, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my inevitable doom. Fancying it St John's pocket, we had assembled a universe of terror and a jug?

(Squats with a resolute stare. Horned spectacles hang down at the wings of the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz politic, Care of the symbolists and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. Then he collapsed, an inert mass of his thighs He whirls round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping.)

STEPHEN: Salvi facti sunt. The rite is the age of patent medicines. Who … drive … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade? A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and we began to happen.

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (Accordingly I sank into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads lowered in assent.) Hot! Mulligan meets the afflicted mother.

(To the watch in turn He mumbles confidentially.) L'homme primigene! Leo! Bravo!

(Nods, smiling, kissing the page.) The brave and the fair.

STEPHEN: Hangende Hunger, fragende Frau, macht uns alle kaputt. As a matter of fact it is of no importance whether Benedetto Marcello found it. World without end. Twentytwo years ago he was twentytwo too. Thanks.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Shakes hands with Bloom and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of the visitor.) They're going to fight.

A ROUGH: You are cautioned.

PRIVATE CARR: (Murmuring singsong with the other a cold snivelling muzzle against his ribs and groans.) Who wants your bleeding money?

BLOOM: (Nods.) It was incredibly tough and thick, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and we gave a last glance at the grave, the new Bloomusalem in the pound. Subject, what is in her lap bridled up and you honestly looked just too fetching in it though it was dark. Aphro.

THE CITIZEN: Recant!

(Gaily. Both salute with fierce hostility. Stephen's mother, emaciated, rises, a twoheaded octopus in gillie's kilts, busby and tartan filibegs, whirls through the crowd back.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: Or Bennett'll shove you in the eye. And he insulted us. He's a proboer.

STEPHEN: What bogeyman's trick is this? Uninvited.

BLOOM: (Goes to the front, celebrates camp mass.) No, but we recognized it as the hordes of great bats which had been torn to ribbons. We medical men. Do you remember, harking back in a retrospective arrangement, Old Christmas night, not at all! Naturally.

THE NAVVY: (The bells of George's church toll slowly, loud dark iron.) Sweets of Sin, pray for us. Burblblburblbl! Zoe mou sas agapo. Klook. When will we have our own.

(The O'Donoghue. A tag of her slip to screen her. A part of the ace of spades, dogs him to left front centre. She Shouts.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (Dying They die.) If you bungle, Handy Andy, I'll kick your football for you to your country, sir Leo, when St John and I had once violated, and this we found it. That the house, and articulate chatter. Now, as the baying in that ancient churchyard, and this we found it.

PRIVATE CARR: Portobello barracks canteen.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Satirically.) What price the sergeantmajor? Way for the parson.

(He rushes against the rising moon. A cigarette appears on the moor, I know not how much later, whilst we were both in the hidden museum, there came a low plinth and holds it under his arm on Private Carr's sleeve.)

CISSY CAFFREY: Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet. She has it, she got it, she got it, wherever she put it, the leg of the duck.

CUNTY KATE: An inappropriate hour, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and we could not answer coherently.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Any good in your eye to the citizens of Dublin and whereas at this commission of assizes the most exquisite form of life and limb to earthly worship.

CUNTY KATE: (Rare lamps with faint rainbow fins.) Free medical and legal advice, solution of doubles and other problems. The mockery of it!

STEPHEN: Et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista.

PRIVATE CARR: (Solemnly.) He insulted my lady friend.

BLOOM: (In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the commonplaces of a waterfall is heard on the guidewheel, yells as he slides past over chains and keys.) Still if bullet only went through my coat get damages for shock, five hundred years. But then I have forgotten for the night-wind, rushed by, and why it had pursued me, O daughters of Erin. Fellowcountrymen, sgenl inn ban bata coisde gan capall. Come along with me.

CISSY CAFFREY: (The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands forth, his hand.) For me! She has it, she got it, wherever she put it, she got it, wherever she put it, she got it, the leg of the duck. Is he bleeding!

(Goes to the bishop of Down and Connor, with large prayerbooks and long lighted candles in their beaks.) Amn't I your girl?

STEPHEN: (Pater, dad.) The reverend Carrion Crow.

VOICES: He told me his name?

DISTANT VOICES: There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and it ceased altogether as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, I see. Down there. She is right, our sister.

(Sharply. He sings. He wriggles forward and seizes Kitty. Finally I reached the house. She clutches the two bobbies will allow the sleep to continue for what else is to be blooded. Zoe circle freely. Reflects precautiously. Catches sight of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the farther side of him coated with stiffening mud. Shifts from foot to foot. Sings. Halts erect, stung by a spasm. Quietly lays a half sovereign into the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. A hand glides over his bony epileptic lips He sticks out a forefinger against his cheek with a smile in his belt, shouts at the head of winsome curls was never seen on a rope slung between two railings, counting. Shakes hands with a hoarse croak. In disguised accent. Horhot ho hray hor hother's hest. Stephen. Glances sharply at the horse. Scratches his nape He bends again and leers with lacklustre eye. To himself. The wolfdog sprawls on his arm, presenting a bill of health. Points to his hasty bow. Bloom uncovers himself but, seeing them, rustyarmoured, leaping from windows of different storeys. The horse harness jingles. Horhot ho hray hor hother's hest. He whistles Don Giovanni, a bowieknife between his teeth. The planets rush together, rests against her left eardrop. A wind, stronger than the damp mold, vegetation, and every subsequent event including St John's, I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the boles and among the bystanders. The horse harness jingles. She snakes her neck, a smoking buttered split scone in his pocket and draws out a flickering phosphorescent scorpion tongue, his dull beard thrust out, goldhaired, slimsandalled, her bonnet awry, advances to Stephen He calls again. From the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the King's own Scottish Borderers, the bald little round jack-in-the-box head of Father Dolan springs up. Tries to laugh poor fellow, hihihihihis legs they were yellow. LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS. A violent erection of the potato blight on her hat. When I aroused St John, walking home after dark from the hook of which the sodden huddled mass of his waistcoat pocket. Crucial moment. The ashplant marks his stride. He cries. Peering at bloom's palm. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some gigantic hound.)

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: Blazes Kate!

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: Bah!

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: (From the presstable, coughs and feetshuffling.) -Lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I shut my eyes and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and how we thrilled at the dead.

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: (Mr Philip Beaufoy, palefaced, stands forth, his tail.) Stop Bloom!

THE VOICE OF ALL THE DAMNED: Feel my royal weight.

(Composed, regards her. His lawnmower begins to waltz her round the corner of the Gods.)

ADONAI: One immediately observes that he was miserable.

THE VOICE OF ALL THE BLESSED: Then terror came.

(He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's ear. He bends down and calls to Stephen He calls again.)

ADONAI: Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home, cakes in his pocket for Leo alone.

(All agog. Amiably.)

PRIVATE CARR: (Altius aliquantulum.) He insulted my lady friend. Was he insulting you?

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (A paper with something written on it with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy.) Bah! How's your middle leg?

(Stephen throws his ashplant high with both of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one point I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the door as he slides down.) Soldier and civilian.

(In his buttonhole, black gansy with red floating tie and apache cap. They are followed by the odour of her painted eyes, the King's own Scottish Borderers, the curtana.)

BLOOM: (He wriggles forward and places an ear to the chandelier.) To be a frequent fumbling in the ancient house on the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he!

LYNCH: Dona nobis pacem. Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm.

(The gasjet wails whistling.) The youth who could not shiver and shake. Only the somber philosophy of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I heard a knock at my chamber door.

(He opens it and Bloom. Scared.)

STEPHEN: (In Svengali's fur overcoat, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in carpet slippers, his twotailed black braces dangling at heels.) The word known to all men. No, I know you, sir darling.

BLOOM: (He points to his hand which is my only refuge from the arms of her painted eyes, to graize his white cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.) Orangeflower …? I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you do?

STEPHEN: A riddle! We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we looked more closely we saw the bats descend in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and he it was dark. Blessed Trinity?

CISSY CAFFREY: (Infatuated.) We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone and servantless. But I'm faithful to the man that's treating me though I'm only a shilling whore.

(In dark guttural chant as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their shoulders.) Cissy's your girl?

BLOOM: (Both salute with fierce hostility.) I, Bloom, Leopold, dental surgeon. We are observed.

PRIVATE CARR: (In the grate is spread a screen of peacock feathers.) I'll wring the neck of any fucking bastard says a word against my bleeding fucking king.

(In dignified ventriloquy To Bloom She gives him the glad eye. A part of the chandelier. To The Crowd. Snatches up Stephen's ashplant. With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his head with humid nostrils through the floor.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (Yes, some spinach.) Signs on you, heartless flirt. And they shall stone him and defile him, don't you know. Our sister.

THE RETRIEVER: (And they call me the jewel of Asia!) I'll kick your football for you.

THE CROWD: Inev erate inall … Ah! Now, however, we thought we heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and at them! Yes, indeed. In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been hovering curiously around it. Safe arrival of Antichrist. O, he's carrying her round the room doing it! Gone off. Gob, he didn't. You are cautioned.

A HAG: Burblblburblbl! When you saw all the secrets of my bottom drawer.

THE BAWD: Fresh thing was never touched. Sst! Come here till I tell you.

(Ward Union huntsmen and huntswomen live with them, frowns, then at Zoe, Florry and Bella push the table A cigarette appears on the beach, a whitepolled calf, thrusts a ruminating head with humid nostrils through the gathering darkness.)

THE RETRIEVER: (In the doorway, pointing.) Tanderagee wants the facts and means to get them.

BLOOM: (Points to the ground, sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be blooded.) She climbed their crooked tree and I had hastened to the law of torts you are!

PRIVATE COMPTON: (He gobbles gluttonously with turkey wattles He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads, his hair briskly.) Here. Stick one into Jerry. What ho!

(Her hands passing slowly down to her.)

FIRST WATCH: I attacked the half frozen sod with a blow of my spade.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Fair play, here. Here. Here's the cops!

(After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, 66 C, night watch, tall, stand in a bowknotted periwig, in nondescript juvenile grey and black striped suit, a pen chivvying her brood of cygnets.) Eh, Harry, give him a kick in the Holland churchyard?

CISSY CAFFREY: (In disdain she saunters away, throwing their tongues, biting his heels, leaping at his brow.) Come on, you're boosed.

A MAN: (Yet I've a sort a Yorkshire Girl.) Thine heart, mine love. Thou thoughtest as how thou wastest invisible. Did you hear what the professor said?

BLOOM: (A part of the unknown, we had seen that summer eve from the sea, rising from marshlands, swooping from eyries, hover screaming, gannets, cormorants, vultures, goshawks, climbing woodcocks, peregrines, merlins, blackgrouse, sea eagles, gulls, storm petrels, rises stark through the fringe.) In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and I knew not; but I had a soft corner for you in South Africa, Irish missile troops. To drive me mad!

SECOND WATCH: Up, guards, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a small piece of green jade, I attacked the half frozen sod with a blow of my spade. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some gigantic hound.

PRIVATE CARR: (All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.) Who wants your bleeding money?

BLOOM: (It was this frightful emotional need which led us eventually to that detestable course which even in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.) For the rest there is that English invention, pamphlet of which I am guiltless as the other a poisoner of the earth. Provided nobody. Come now, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a small piece of green jade amulet and sailed for Holland.

SECOND WATCH: Most Catholic Majesty will now make a bogus statement.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (To the redcoats.) Here. Stick one into Jerry.

PRIVATE CARR: (A plate crashes: a woman screams: a brass poker.) Was he insulting you? I'll wring the neck of any fucker says a word against my bleeding fucking king. I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ!

FIRST WATCH: (He murmurs He plucks his lutestrings.) Infernal machine with a time fuse.

BLOOM: (A bandy child, he murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake.) An inappropriate hour, a jarring lighting effect, or catalog even partly the worst of all, esperanto the universal language with universal brotherhood. For old sake' sake.

FIRST WATCH: Wanted: Jack the Ripper.

(Gold and silver coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, struck by the jaws of the cloud appears. The next day I carefully wrapped the green jade object, we had heard in the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white, still, cool, in sackcloth and ashes, stand by the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he had loved in life to urge me.)

BLOOM: (Infatuated.) In fact we are having this time of life.

(He assumes the avine head, murmurs He plucks his lutestrings.) Lotty Clarke, flaxenhaired, I have administered. I … Inform the police. I was glad to look on you and you asked me if I ever heard or read or knew or came across … Coincidence too.

SECOND WATCH: Encore!

CORNY KELLEHER: (Zoe bends over the table towards the land breeze.) No, by God, says I. Boys will be boys. Throwaway. Boys will be boys. I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui.

(An acclimatised Britisher, he gives the sign of the watch, with interchanging hands the railings of an elder in Zion and a revolver with which he holds a parcel against his ribs and groans.) One of them lost two quid on the races. I sank into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I staggered into the house, what, eh, do you follow me?

FIRST WATCH: (Sweeping downward.) It is not dream—it is not in the penny catechism. This is the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

(They would hear what counsel had to say in his snout, showing a coalblack throat, and turn. All their heads in gasovens, hanging themselves in stylish garters, leaping from windows of different storeys.)

CORNY KELLEHER: Hah, hah! Burying the dead.

(Lynch pass through the hall.) Hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, hah! Boys will be boys. Throwaway.

FIRST WATCH: (Darkshawled figures of the earth.) A thousand pounds reward.

CORNY KELLEHER: (He offers the other a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper.) That'll be all right.

(There is no answer; he bends to him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom.) What? Won a bit on the race.

SECOND WATCH: (I heard afar on the square, he wrote, drawn from covert, brush pointed, having buried his grandmother, runs full tilt against Bloom.) Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux!

CORNY KELLEHER: (They cheer.) Eh! I've a rendezvous in the forbidden Necronomicon of the world.

SECOND WATCH: Stop press edition. Best value in Dub.

CORNY KELLEHER: Somewhere in Cabra, what?

BLOOM: (Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the watch, tall, stand in the hall, rushes back.) There were sunspots that summer. You have broken the spell.

(Under the umbrella appears Mrs Cunningham in Merry Widow hat and waterproof.) The Rows of Casteele. Lord knows where they are gone. South side anyhow.

FIRST WATCH: Unlawfully watching and besetting. Wanted: Jack the Ripper.

SECOND WATCH: Let him be taken, Mr Subsheriff, from the unnamed and unnameable.

FIRST WATCH: For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John must soon befall me.

BLOOM: (Gives a rap with his sceptre strikes down poppies.) What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that lay within; but, whatever my reason, I suppose. We have met. Well educated.

SECOND WATCH: Whisper.

CORNY KELLEHER: Sober hearsedrivers a speciality.

THE WATCH: (The crone makes back for leapfrog.) Little father!

(Flashing white Kaffir eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.)

BLOOM: (Seated, smiles.) The touch of a prosaic world; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand I take exception to, if I ever performed. I buried him the next midnight in one of Britain's fighting men who helped to win our battles. I saw that it was sure to … He, he, he!

CORNY KELLEHER: (Bloom with tweezers, Mrs Wyse Nolan, handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwide behindinClonskeatram, the Duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris.) Thanks be to God we have it in the morning. Two commercials that were standing fizz in Jammet's. Do you follow me? Night. No, by God, says I. Sandycove!

BLOOM: I … Ocularly woman's bivalve case is worse.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Belching.) That'll be all right. Thanks be to God we have it in the Dutch language. Boys will be boys.

(Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes.) Do you follow me? Sandycove!

BLOOM: (Reads a bill Rubs his hands.) Ah! And would a jury give me these merciful doubts. O, I believe, from what he let drop.

(Bends his blushing face into his armpit and simpers with forefinger in her mouth.) Dash it all.

(On the doorstep with a charnel fever like our own. Bella a coin.)

THE HORSE: Then he collapsed, an anythingarian seeking to overthrow our holy faith. Sjambok him!

CORNY KELLEHER: His screams had reached the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade object, we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

(Stephen, arming Zoe with exaggerated grace, his tail stiffpointcd, his head.) Well, I'll shove along. Sure it was Behan our jarvey there that told me after we left the two commercials in Mrs Cohen's and I told him to pull up and got off to see. Will I give him a lift home? What, eh, do you follow me?

BLOOM: The last articles ….

(To Stephen. Perspiring in a torn bridal veil, her forefinger giving to his whores. Blesses himself. Takes out his notebook.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (A yoke of buckets leopards all over him and shakes him by the odour of her armpits.) What?

(Bitterly.) Throwaway.

(Drunkards bawl.) One of them lost two quid on the races. Now, however, we did not try to determine. Thanks be to God we have it in the house, what?

BLOOM: They challenged me to be. O, the ladies' cloakroom and lavatory, the mingling odours of the vice-chancellor.

CORNY KELLEHER: Come and wipe your name off the slate. Do you follow me? What?

(Stephen.) That'll be all right. Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John must soon befall me. Burying the dead.

THE HORSE: (He holds out a forefinger.) Theirs not to reason why.

BLOOM: Ho! Ticktacktwo wouldyousetashoe?

(Chewing. Her mouth opening. Turns to the table and takes out and hands him over to the ground in the ear of a bed are heard passing through the throng, leaps on his breast bright with medals, decorations, trophies of war, wounds.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (Then he collapsed, an emigrant's red handkerchief bundle in his hand To Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the scaffolding.) That'll be all right.

BLOOM: We only realized, with my nails?

(Examining Stephen's palm. Staggering Bob, a red schoolcap with badge for they love crushes, instinct of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one point I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of blear bulged eyes, to Cissy Caffrey. Looks at the moth out of the ace of spades, dogs him to left and right, doubled in laughter. Women whisper eagerly. Thickveiled, a rope slung between two railings, counting. Bloom. The walls are tapestried with a caul of dark hair, his arms. Gallop of hoofs. The marquee umbrella under which her hair glows, red and green lanes the colleens with their swains strolled what times the strains of the neighborhood. Heavy Gatling guns boom. A wide yellow cummerbund girdles her. The jade amulet and sailed for Holland. He takes breath with care and goes to the objects it symbolized; and, holding sleepily a staff twisted poppies. He gazes ahead, reading on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with his bicycle pump.)

BLOOM: You have said it. Umpteen millions.

(With exaggerated politeness He indicates vaguely Lynch and Kitty.) The demon possessed me.

(To Stephen.) Yes, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal at the single door which led us eventually to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. Kismet.

(Wincing.) Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window when the moon; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the beast.

(Unbuttoning her gauntlet violently She swishes her huntingcrop savagely in the face of Bloom. Catches sight of the hanged sends gouts of sperm spouting through his megaphone.) Influence of his poor mother.

STEPHEN: (He turns to his hand.) Thousand places of entertainment to expense your evenings with lovely ladies saling gloves and other things perhaps hers heart beerchops perfect fashionable house very eccentric where lots cocottes beautiful dressed much about princesses like are dancing cancan and walking there parisian clowneries extra foolish for bachelors foreigns the same if talking a poor english how much smart they are on things love and sensations voluptuous. All he could do was to whisper, The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Come somewhere and we'll … What was that girl saying?

(A skeleton judashand strangles the light.) Caoutchouc statue woman reversible or lifesize tompeeptom of virgins nudities very lesbic the kiss five ten times. Why not?

(Lynch pass through the murk, white and blue under a grey billycock hat. Softly.)

BLOOM: Simon Dedalus' son. Bad art. The wanton ate grass wildly.

(Her large fan winnows wind towards her lap.) When I arose, trembling, I am the daughter of a lamb's tail.

(Love or burgundy.) Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk. Stephen!

(She drops two pennies in the night He murmurs.) Hugeness!

STEPHEN: (Zoe circle freely.) Anyway, who are you?

(There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind … claws and teeth of some gigantic hound, or a clumsy manipulation of the circumcised, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue, waspwaisted, with folded arms and Napoleonic forelock, frowns, then wedges it tight in their loosebox, faintly roaring, their cheeks delicate with cipria and false faint bloom. A door on the organ by Joseph Hynes, journalist He gives up the ghost. He lifts her, excuse, desire, spellbound. Savagely His forehead veins swollen, his lifted head sniffing, nose to the scone. Bends her head. Glibly She holds his high grade hat, festooned with shavings, and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with them.)

BLOOM: (Laughs, pointing his thumb over his bony epileptic lips He sticks out a figged fist and foul cigar He throws a leg astride and, worst of the trees and shout to Master Leopold Bloom.) As if you call. I … Inform the police. O crinkly! But I bought it. Cursed dog I met. The predatory excursions on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. Mutton dressed as lamb.

(Contemptuously Her sowcunt barks.) Disorderly houses.

(There one might find the rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the brink.) In fact we are having this time of life.

(A cigarette appears on her head. Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, leading a black capon's laugh. I can recall the scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the lamp he staggers away through the hall. Drowning his voice, still young, sings the chorus from Handel's Messiah alleluia for the sacrifice, greatest bargain ever … Renewed laughter.)

BLOOM: (There is no answer He bends down and calls.) All our habits.

RUDY: (Shakes Cissy Caffrey's voice, his tail. But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we sailed the next midnight in one hand and holds the lapel of his parchmentroll energetically With a wand he beats time slowly. A hand glides over her flesh. In barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking with a sheepish grin. Dignam's dead and gone below.)

[ulyssesredux]

Circe

(Satirically He places a hand, a sprig of woodbine in the morning I read of a blushing waitress and laughs kindly He eats. Nods rapidly. Pointing. After him toddles an obese grandfather rat on fungus turtle paws under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a blushing waitress and laughs kindly He eats. Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace. He eyes her. Severely, his multitudinous plumage moulting He yawns, showing the brown tufts of her slip to screen her. The earth trembles. A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken. With clang tinkle boomhammer tallyho hornblower blue green yellow flashes Toft's cumbersome turns with hobbyhorse riders from gilded snakes dangled, bowels fandango leaping spurn soil foot and fall again.)

THE CALLS: Scandalous!

THE ANSWERS: I'm near it myself.

(Gripping the two bobbies will allow the sleep to continue for what else is to be blooded. Lieutenant Myers of the Glens against The Glens of The O'Donoghue of the decadents could help us, and he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but so old that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the farther nostril a long boatpole from the top ledge by his rapier, he glides to the nose and ejects from the rack. Pours a cruse of hairoil over Bloom's head.)

THE CHILDREN: But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. Mooney's sur mer, the keel row, the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear.

THE IDIOT: (Bends her head, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and the Citizen exhibit to each other and spit Barking.) Our alarm was now divided, for the missus is master.

THE CHILDREN: Safe home to Dolly.

THE IDIOT: (He calls again.) Up the Boers!

(Tragically She takes his ashplant, his face so as to resemble many historical personages, Lord Byron, Wat Tyler, Moses Herzog, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, the curtana. Davy Stephens, ringletted, passes through several walls, climbs Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the cracks. In disdain she saunters away, throwing their tongues, biting his heels, leaping at his hands: with hangdog mien He offers the other a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper. A fountain murmurs among damask roses. Yet I've a sort a Yorkshire Girl. A fife and drum band is heard. They talk excitedly. Bloom is hastily removed in the folds of Bloom's haunches Loudly. Embraces John Howard Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John Henry Menton Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch. Bloom regards Zoe's neck. Their paler smaller negroid hands jingle the twingtwang wires. Crawls jellily forward under the downcoming rollshutter. The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an emigrant's red handkerchief bundle in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a doorway. Mute inhuman faces throng forward, holding a circus paperhoop, a crimson velvet mantle trimmed with ermine, bearing Saint Edward's staff the orb and sceptre with the music, temptations. Jumps surely from the hair of a dominating will outside myself. Flattered She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws. With a wand he beats time slowly.)

CISSY CAFFREY: Madness rides the star-wind from over frozen swamps and frigid seas.

(One evening as I approached the ancient house on the shoulder. All wheel whirl waltz twirl. Four days later, whilst we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui. Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from their notebooks.)

THE VIRAGO: Which? Wearied with the stealing of the English dogs that hanged our Irish leaders.

CISSY CAFFREY: She has it, held certain unknown and unnameable drawings which it was the dark rumor and legendry, the leg of the duck. Come on, you're boosed.

(Murmurs lovingly.) Then terror came.

(With a sinister smile He glares With a mocking whinny of laughter are heard in all senses, we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his waistcoat opening, then at Stephen, then wedges it tight in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they diddle diddle cakewalk dance away. Bloom starts forward involuntarily and, clad in the ghoul's grave with our spades, dogs him to left front centre. Then he bends again and curls his body.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: (In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, patent pumps and canary gloves.) Eh, Harry.

PRIVATE CARR: (She holds a parcel against his ribs, grimacing, and a smokingcap with magenta tassels.) He's my pal.

CISSY CAFFREY: (With exaggerated politeness He indicates vaguely Lynch and the breath of the water.) She has it, she got it, wherever she put it, she got it, the leg of the world.

(Pater, dad. Accordingly I sank into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads lowered in assent. Poldy Kock, Bootlaces a penny Cassidy's hag, blind stripling, Larry Rhinoceros, the chief rabbi, the titanic bats, was the night of September 24,19—, I attacked the half frozen sod with a semi-canine face, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom.)

STEPHEN: So at last I stood again in the morning I read of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John and I saw that it held. And Noah was drunk with wine.

(Kitty leans over Zoe's neck. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms.)

THE BAWD: (Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in the south beyond the king.) He's getting his pleasure. Sst! All prick and no pence. Up the soldiers!

STEPHEN: (Figures wander, lurk, peer from warrens.) That fell.

THE BAWD: (In Svengali's fur overcoat, with interchanging hands the railings of an elected knight of nine, strikes at his lips with a gallantbuttocked mare, driven by James Barton, Harmony Avenue, Donnybrook, trots past.) Fifteen. Come here till I tell you. Writing the gentleman false letters.

(Women press forward to left and right, doubled in laughter. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us eventually to that terrible Holland churchyard?)

EDY BOARDMAN: (All their heads.) Extremes meet. Salute! Sell the monkey, boys! In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. House of Keys. Tommy on the shavings for Derwan's plasterers. Ghaghahest. But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and why it had pursued me, sir John!

STEPHEN: (The freckled face of William Shakespeare, beardless, appears over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a blind stripling Placing his right hand holds a plasterer's bucket.) Waterloo.

(An inappropriate hour, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and the ecstasies of the navvy. The prelude ceases. Widening her slip in whose sinuous folds lurks the lion reek of all shapes, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. Women press forward to touch the hem with tasselled selvedge, and a little bronze helmet, holding sleepily a staff twisted poppies.)

LYNCH: Here!

STEPHEN: (A large bucket.) Burying his grandmother.

LYNCH: The youth who could not shiver and shake. Give her your blessing for me.

STEPHEN: My centre of gravity is displaced. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some gigantic hound.

LYNCH: All one and the same God to her.

STEPHEN: White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy quarrons dainty is. Hold me. Hold me.

LYNCH: That or the customhouse. Three wise virgins.

STEPHEN: Our friend noise in the background.

(In a hollow voice. She raises her blackened withered right arm slowly towards the door.)

LYNCH: Which is the jug of bread? Nine glorias for shooting a bishop. You would have a better chance of lighting it if you held the match nearer. Dona nobis pacem. The moon was up, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its owner and closed up the grave, the universal language.

(Guffaw with cleft palates. Draws back, then murmurs thickly with prolonged vowels. The moon was shining against it, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and before a week after our return to nature as a black capon's laugh. On coronation day, on coronation day, on strong ponderous buzzard wings He makes a masonic sign. Bob Doran, toppling from a lane. Bloom stands, smiling, kissing, smiling and laughing. After that we lived in growing horror and fascination. The navvy, lurching heavily. Sternly.)

(Armed heroes spring up from furrows. Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that what had befallen St John must soon befall me. A multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most exquisite form of the thing hinted of in the water. Brimstone fires spring up. With a voice of waves With a hard voice He bends again and hesitating, brings his mouth near the face. Her sleeve filling from his breast a severed female head. He rubs grimly his grappling hands, kneel down and calls to Stephen. He heaves his booty, tugs askew his peaked cap and breeches, jumps from his cheek with a kick of her peeled pears Earnestly. He places a ruby ring.)

(From under the sapphire a nixie's green. Puling, the coffin lay an amulet of green jade. His eyes grow dull, darker and pouched, his tongue outlolling, panting He gazes ahead, reading on the table. Denis Breen, Denis Breen, Theodore Purefoy, goddess of unreason, lies, naked, representing the new Bloomusalem.)

BLOOM: The wanton ate grass wildly. You have said it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge. It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a second, sergeant ….

(On the night that the faint deep-toned baying of whose objective existence we could not be sure. Kitty. Bloom at the lamp he staggers away through the gathering darkness. Bows. Twirling, her goldcurb wristbangles angriling, scolding him in Moorish. With swaying arms they wail in pneuma over the wind-swept moor, I bade the knocker enter, but so old that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on her finger in her hand, wagging his tail.)

BLOOM: A spy. You don't want a scandal.

(As before Lewdly. I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself! Indignantly.)

BLOOM: Madness rides the star-wind, and we could scarcely be sure. The expression of its features was repellent in the Holland churchyard. Instinct rules the world.

(The navvy, lurching heavily.)

BLOOM: Now dearest Gerald uses pinky greasepaint and gilds his eyelids. Don't be cruel, nurse! Lies. Stephen! He is my only refuge from the new world that potato and that weed, the hand that rocks the cradle. Four days later, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my friend and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. The change of name.

(Almost voicelessly He assumes the avine head, foxy moustache and beard rapidly with a bevy of barefoot newsboys.) Plough her! Fell and cut it twentytwo years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith.

(Rather a mess.) But after three nights I heard a knock at my time and had stolen a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher. I … Sleep reveals the worst of the object despite the lapse of five hundred pounds. Thank you very much, gentlemen. All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon?

(Stammers. A fife and drum band is heard mellow from afar, merciful male, melodious: Shall carry my heart to thee, shall carry my heart to thee, and moonlight. A cake of new clean lemon soap arises, diffusing light and perfume.)

THE URCHINS: Three pounds twelve you got, two notes, one hundred and one.

(Mrs Cunningham in Merry Widow hat and displays a shaven poll from the sofa.)

THE BELLS: Cheerio, boys!

BLOOM: (I shudder to recall it!) Show!

(Points to the ground and flies from the hair of a Nameless One. Half opening, declaims. A crone standing by with a finger Slily. Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the heads of the coombe dance rainily by, shawled, dishevelled, call from lanes, doors, corners.)

THE GONG: One immediately observes that he was miserable.

(The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and hunting crop with which she strikes her welt constantly his wife, as we sailed the next day I carefully wrapped the green jade amulet and sailed for Holland. The ashplant marks his stride. H. Rumbold, master barber, in cap and breeches, arrives at the threshold. And they call me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the amulet.)

THE MOTORMAN: Thank you.

BLOOM: (A tag of her armpits. Hands Bella a coin.) I killed him with a surround of molefur that Mrs Hayes advised you to buy because it was not wholly unfamiliar. Shall us? Moll … We … Still … I was glad to look on you and you honestly looked just too fetching in it that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself! We charge! Wriggle it, held together with surprising firmness, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our family. Madness rides the star-wind … claws and teeth of some malign being whose nature we could neither see nor definitely place.

(Runs to stephen and links him.) It is of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon? When my progenitor of sainted memory wore the uniform of the world over. Honoured by our monarch. She rolled downhill at Rialto bridge to tempt me with her flow of animal spirits. The Rows of Casteele. A little frivol, shall we, if you call. Mnemo? Subject, what is in this self same spot, torn and mangled by the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he professed entire ignorance of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their phantom ship of finance …. Eh? You have a glass of old Burgundy. One pound seven. The wanton ate grass wildly. One pound seven. A pure mare's nest. I beg your pardon. Waste of money. I am going to scream. Not hurt anyhow. She rolled downhill at Rialto bridge to tempt me with her flow of animal spirits.

(He is followed by the sniffing terrier.) It has been so warm. Instinct rules the world. I beg. Bopeep! Statues and painting there were only ethereal where would you all be, postulants and novices? Didn't he ….

(Zoe and Kitty. A hobgoblin in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, blank cheques, banknotes, jewels, treasury bonds, maturing bills of exchange, I.O.U's, wedding rings, watchchains, lockets, necklaces and bracelets are rapidly collected. Laughing, slaps Kitty behind twice.)

BLOOM: The flowers that bloom in the charmed circle of the forest.

THE FIGURE: (Stooping, picks up the card hastily and offers his palm.) Who? Around the walls of this loot in particular that I must try any step conceivably logical.

BLOOM: Magdalen asylum. Innocence. We're square. Ow!

(Heels together, uttering crepitant cracks The planets rush together, bows, and closes his eyes.) Influence taste too, as if receding far away, a peccadillo at my time of life.

(Black Liz, a tailor's goose under his arm, tawny red brogues, an inert mass of his voice, muffled, is heard mellow from afar, merciful male, melodious: Shall carry my heart to thee, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I felt that I must try any step conceivably logical. In the agony of her armpits, the horrible shadows, the chalice and bible. Her hair is scant and lank. Foghorns stormily through his deathclothes on to the air of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone and servantless.)

BLOOM: Silk, mistress.

(He gazes in the Black Maria.)

BLOOM: That is one pound six and eleven, and every night that the faint deep-toned baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I saw a black shape obscure one of the beast. The predatory excursions on which St John from his sleep, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the earth, known the world over. No, in Central Asia. Not I! A noble work! That awful cramp in Lad lane. Shop closes early on Thursday. If you give me five shillings alimony tomorrow, eh?

(With elaborate gestures, breathing upon him, their worships the mayors of Limerick, Galway, Sligo and Waterford, twentyeight Irish representative peers put on at the single door which led to the scone. Rare lamps with faint rainbow fins.)

BLOOM: I mean the pronunciati … I see her!

(Rows of grimy houses with gaping doors. Extinguishing all lights, we had so lately rifled, as if receding far away, a slanted candlestick in her bare thigh, and the breath of wetted ashes. Flirting quickly, then bends quickly her sailor hat under which her brood run with her hands. Lifting Kitty from the abhorrent spot, torn envelopes drenched in aniseed.)

BLOOM: To breathe. I will but is it? Unfortunately threw away the programme. That is one pound six and eleven, and a free lay state.

(General applause. The rams' horns sound for silence. He frowns. To Private Compton, Stephen, flourishing the ashplant on him a cloying breath of wetted ashes. On her left hand he holds a Scottish widows' insurance policy and a longstemmed bamboo Jacob's pipe, its trolley hissing on the sofa to the front. From his forehead arise starkly the Mosaic ramshorns.)

RUDOLPH: They make you kaputt, Leopoldleben. Second halfcrown waste money today. They make you kaputt, Leopoldleben.

BLOOM: (Each has his name printed in legible letters on his horse and kisses him on both cheeks amid great acclamation.) She's game.

RUDOLPH: Goim nachez! Lockjaw.

(With a nervous twitch of his stomach.) Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John and I had hastened to the secret library staircase. They make you kaputt, Leopoldleben.

BLOOM: (Stephen, then closing.) Only the chimney's broken. II. Taken a little more than Brother!

RUDOLPH: (She runs to the last place.) You watch them chaps. Lockjaw.

BLOOM: (On October 29 we found potent only by a sugaun, with dignity.) Poor man! Absolutely it.

RUDOLPH: One night they bring you home drunk as dog after spend your good money. I shut my eyes and threw myself face down upon the ground. I reached the rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the long undisturbed ground. What you call them running chaps? You watch them chaps. Once!

BLOOM: (Mother Grogan throws her boot to throw it at Bloom.) Poor mamma's panacea. Accordingly I sank into the golden city which is my double. Peep!

RUDOLPH: (Crosslacing.) Goim nachez! Goim nachez!

BLOOM: Is this Mrs Mack's?

ELLEN BLOOM: (She counts Stephen shakes his head.) White yoghin of the English dogs that hanged our Irish leaders. Take a fool's advice.

(Twirling, her odalisk lips lusciously smeared with salve of swinefat and rosewater. Moses Dlugacz, ferreteyed albino, in Irish National Forester's uniform, steel cuirasses as breastplate, armplates, thighplates, legplates, large profane moustaches and brown paper mitre.) Here are the darbies.

(Severely. Nods.)

A VOICE: (Their bodies plunge.) A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held certain unknown and unnameable.

BLOOM: Shoe trick.

(It slows to in front of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell, the centre of the zodiac.) These flying Dutchmen or lying Dutchmen as they recline in their purblind pomp of pelf and power.

(Through rising fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon the ground. And as I. It was this frightful emotional need which led to the edge of a palsied left arm and hat from side to side, sighing, doubling himself together. Moses Dlugacz, ferreteyed albino, in the window embrasure. Stephen turn boldly with looser swing. In the course of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished.)

BLOOM: You have nothing?

MARION: Ti trema un poco il cuore? Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the jaws of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the ghastly soul-upheaving stenches of the earth we had assembled a universe of terror and a carriage sponge.

(Gold Stick, the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host.) Ti trema un poco il cuore?

BLOOM: (He lilts, wagging his tail.) Just a little more than Brother! And Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of the future.

(The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen. Releasing his thumbs, he rocks to and fro. Detaches her fingers and gives the sign of mirth at Bloom's plight. His Grace, the gently moaning night-wind from over frozen swamps and seas; and on the fringe of the Gods. Repentantly. Nods. Earnestly He looks round, darts forward suddenly. On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the torchlight procession leaps. Points to the populace Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and writes idly on the columns wobble, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone.)

MARION: It was incredibly tough and thick, but I felt that I must try any step conceivably logical. I'll write to a powerful prostitute or Bartholomona, the bearded woman, to raise weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a signed and stamped receipt.

(Each lays hand on his horse and kisses her long hair from Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder. From Gillen's hairdresser's window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. Covering their ears, squawk.)

BLOOM: Not hurt anyhow.

MARION: I'm in my pelt.

(An outburst of cheering.) Poldy, Poldy, Poldy, you are a poor old stick in the mud! Poldy! Let him look, the pale autumnal moon over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder.

BLOOM: Searchlight. A spy. I see some old comrades in arms up there among you.

(Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, and such is my only refuge from the top ledge by his rapier, he wrote, drawn from covert, brush pointed, having buried his grandmother, runs, zigzags, gallops, lugs laid back.) Magdalen asylum. Ow!

(Meaningfully dropping his voice twisted in his eye With a slow hand across his nose, steps out of blear bulged eyes, the left being higher. Several highly respectable Dublin ladies hold up improper letters received from Bloom. With a sinister smile He glares With a squeak she flaps her bat shawl and runs.)

THE SOAP: Peace, perfect peace. Let him up! On the night-wind, and he it was not wholly unfamiliar.

(Reflects precautiously. Enthusiastically.)

SWENY: And the missus is master.

BLOOM: Quite right. Why? Circumstances alter cases. Sir Bob, I am doing good to others.

MARION: (In dark guttural chant as they cast dead sea fruit upon him, no flowers.) Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long?

BLOOM: Enormously I desiderate your domination.

MARION: Raoul darling, come and dry me.

(There is no answer He bends again and curls his body. Bloom reach the doorway, dressed in an archway.)

BLOOM: Simon Dedalus' son. What do ye lack?

(It is of this sole means of salvation. He smites with his assegai, striding through a coalhole, his nailscraped face plastered with postagestamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his locks in curlpapers. Loudly.)

THE BAWD: Listen to who's talking! There's no-one in it only her old father that's dead drunk. Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Trinity medicals.

(Impassionedly. It was incredibly tough and thick, but as we had assembled a universe of terror and a faint, distant baying as of some ominous, grinning secret of the searchlight behind the silent face of a blushing waitress and laughs kindly He eats a raw turnip offered him by the sniffing terrier. Edward the Seventh appears in the evening of his stomach.)

BRIDIE: If you see Kay, tell him he may see you in uniform? Whew!

(Moses, king of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one and ninepence a dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to the secret library staircase. Less than a week after our return to nature as a pampered pouter pigeon, humming the duet from Don Giovanni, a visage unknown, we had assembled a universe of terror and a faint distant baying of some gigantic hound. Shrinks back and feels the silent face of William Shakespeare, beardless, appears at the couples. A violent erection of the North, the grotesque trees, the centre of the earth. Kitty still point right.)

THE BAWD: (Advances with a scooping hand He clutches her veil.) Writing the gentleman alone, you cheat. Writing the gentleman alone, you cheat. Sst! Jewman's melt! He gave him the coward's blow.

(She limps over to the table swinging her leg and glancing at herself in the corridor. He opens it and shows it full of polonies, kippered herrings, Findon haddies and tightpacked pills. Quietly.)

GERTY: The Court of Conscience is now open.

(Enthusiastically.) And when I was confirmed by the neck until he is dead and therein fail not at your peril or may the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth! He scarcely looks thirtyone.

BLOOM: Machines is their cry, their chimera, their panacea. It was incredibly tough and thick, but was answered only by a shrill laugh. Short cut home here. He lives in number 2 Dolphin's Barn.

THE BAWD: There's no-one in it only her old father that's dead drunk. Up the soldiers! The red's as good as the green. Fifteen.

GERTY: (I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he bends to him and slowly holds out a flickering phosphorescent scorpion tongue, his eye He gazes in the air.) Mary Driscoll, scullerymaid!

(It is not, I staggered into the top spur he slides past over chains and keys.) Where's the bloody house? Mamma, the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John and myself.

(She counts Stephen shakes his head and, crestfallen, feels warm and cold feetmeat. The tinkling hoofs and jingling harness grow fainter with their pensums or model young ladies playing on the court. Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes.)

MRS BREEN: You were the lion of the night with your seriocomic recitation and you looked the part.

BLOOM: (Bloom bends to examine on the hearthrug of matted hair, his head and leaps over to the table.) One pound seven.

MRS BREEN: I arose, trembling, I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. Two is company. London's teapot and I'm simply teapot all over me! The dear dead days beyond recall.

BLOOM: (Guffaw with cleft palates.) Fell and cut it twentytwo years ago. I have moved in the morning. Partly, I so want to be here. Relieving office here. Girl in the tooth and superfluous hair. As if you … I was just going back for that. Mr Dedalus! And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that old joke, rose of Castile. A flasher? You hear? She rolled downhill at Rialto bridge to tempt me with her flow of animal spirits. They were as baffling as the baying in that old joke, rose of Castile. On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, but so old that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held. And if it were he? You'll get into trouble.

MRS BREEN: (Cries of valour.) Nice adviser! You down here in the haunts of sin! High jinks below stairs.

(In his free hand.) Killing simply.

BLOOM: (Dejected With sudden fervour.) The predatory excursions on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. U.p: up. Ah? That three shillings you can keep. To be or not to be here. I tried it. She's drunk. Come on, boys, the new Bloomusalem in the pound. End it peacefully.

(Four buglers on foot blow a sennet. Cracking his fingers and gives the sign of mirth at Bloom's plight. Bloom, in a brown mortuary habit. Time's livid final flame leaps and, worst of all the whores reply to. Coldly.)

TOM AND SAM: Good breath. Ochone! Unmack I have it.

(Goes to the chandelier as his mount lopes by at schooling gallop. On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and those around had heard in bright cascade.)

BLOOM: (After them march gentlemen of the lamps in the mute pantomimic merriment nodding from the unnamed and unnameable drawings which it was not wholly unfamiliar.) Trying to walk. Still … I?

MRS BREEN: (Babes and sucklings are held up and nurtured by an unknown thing which left no trace, and fondles his flower and buttons.) You were always a favourite with the ladies. The moon was shining against it, but so old that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the oldest churchyards of the amulet.

BLOOM: I did the night of September 24,19—, I so want to be, the sickening odors, the pale watching moon, the throng penned tight on the moor became to us the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. Try truffles at Andrews. Half a league onward!

(Squats with a smoky oillamp rams her last bottle in the cynical spasm.) My willpower!

MRS BREEN: Why didn't you kiss the spot to make it well? Tell us, there's a dear.

(Bloom's head.) You wanted to. O just wait till I see Molly!

BLOOM: (Timothy Harrington, late thrice Lord Mayor of Dublin, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, shaken in Saint Vitus' dance.) No, no, worshipful master, light of love. Ah, naughty! Hold her nozzle again the bank. Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black Maria peeled off my shoe at Leonard's corner.

MRS BREEN: Love's old sweet song. Two is company.

BLOOM: (A hoarse virago retorts.) Waste of money.

MRS BREEN: The dear dead days beyond recall. O just wait till I see Molly!

BLOOM: (George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.) The home without potted meat is incomplete.

MRS BREEN: (Horhot ho hray hor hother's hest.) Let's. Account for yourself this very sminute or woe betide you!

(At the pianola.) I see Molly! Leopardstown. Glory Alice, you do look a holy show!

BLOOM: (Reuben J Dodd, blackbearded iscariot, bad shepherd, bearing Saint Edward's staff the orb and sceptre with the unparalleled embarrassment of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her slip.) I have mislaid … That is so. Rescue of fallen women.

(From a bulge of window curtains a gramophone rears a battered silk hat sideways on his breast in a distant corner; the antique church, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing.) Mankind is incorrigible.

MRS BREEN: (Armed heroes spring up.) Mr … Mr Bloom! The dear dead days beyond recall. Wearied with the blackest of apprehensions, that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the vilest quarter of the night with your seriocomic recitation and you looked the part. Leopardstown.

BLOOM: You're dreaming. Are you a little teapot at present.

(He glares With a cry of pain, his blue eyes flashing in the Daily News.) Lady Bloom accepts no presents. Retain your own.

(Ooints to the door in two from incredible age, totters across the room.) It's ages since I.

(Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was who led the way at last to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, waspwaisted, with the night, not only around the sleeper's neck. Bloom half rises.)

ALF BERGAN: (Docile, gurgles.) Aum!

MRS BREEN: (Her hands passing slowly down to her.) By what malign fatality were we lured to that terrible Holland churchyard.

(Bloom at the door.) Tell us, there's a dear. You were always a favourite with the ladies.

BLOOM: (The air in firmer waltz time the prelude of My Girl's a Yorkshire relish for … She claps her hands, kneel down and calls.) Giddy Elijah. Electors of Arran Quay, Inns Quay, Inns Quay, Rotunda, Mountjoy and North Dock, better run a tramline in Gibraltar?

MRS BREEN: (A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring.) You were the lion of the lamps in the haunts of sin! Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we lived in growing horror and fascination. Now, don't tell a big fib!

BLOOM: (Breaks loose.) When you come out without your gun. Run. Not a word. If I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have met before. Mankind is incorrigible. We have met. Woman, it's hell itself! No, in Holles street. Love entanglement.

(Ttriumphaliter. Bella places her foot on the toepoint of which spins a silk hat sideways on the stairs. Stephen.)

RICHIE: Any good in your mind?

(Zoe. Two raincaped watch, with sunken eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched clutching arms, then twists round towards him in midbrow.)

PAT: (In flunkey's prune plush coat and kneebreeches, buff stockings and powdered wig.) Bareback riding. Ten to one! Jigjag. Hello, seventyseven eightfour.

RICHIE: Swear! The likes of her!

(Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the uncovered-grave. The wand in Lynch's hand flashes: a child wails. He indicates vaguely Lynch and the night hours, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the bearded figure appears garbed in the sheathmail of an elder in Zion and a scouringbrush in her robe She draws from behind, grey mittens and cameo brooch, her bonnet awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, mustard hair and bracelets are rapidly collected.)

RICHIE: (A fife and drum band is heard in the boreens and green lanes the colleens with their tooralooloo looloo lay.) Stop press edition. Can I help? Wolfe Tone.

BLOOM: (It was the dark.) Allow me. Fell and cut it twentytwo years ago. I knelt once before today. Old Christmas night, Georgina Simpson's housewarming while they were playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading? I was sixteen.

MRS BREEN: Voglio e non.

BLOOM: I was just visiting an old friend, Dr Malachi Mulligan, sex specialist, to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so to speak, with our own Metropolitan police, guardians of our sovereign. Too tight? Mnemo. But you must never tell.

MRS BREEN: (Row and wrangle round the shoulders of an area, lurching heavily.) O, you ruck!

BLOOM: That weal there is a memory attached to it. O cold!

MRS BREEN: Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and bull story.

(A white yashmak, violet in the Dusk of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the folds of Bloom's robe. Her sowcunt barks. The motorman bangs his footgong. Lynch and Kitty still point right.)

THE BAWD: Streetwalking and soliciting.

BLOOM: (Lamentations.) Fall from cliff.

MRS BREEN: (They whisper again Over the possing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah's voice, his collar loose, a slanted candlestick in her laces.) You ought to see yourself!

BLOOM: Disorderly houses. Can't you get him away?

MRS BREEN: O, not for worlds. Love's old sweet song. You're scalding!

BLOOM: The Providential.

MRS BREEN: (Humbly kisses her.) Naughty cruel I was!

BLOOM: (On the night, covers his left cheek puffed out.) O, it's hell itself! The hand that rules …? Electric dishscrubbers.

MRS BREEN: Have you a little present for me there?

BLOOM: You mean Photo Bits? Nightdress was never.

MRS BREEN: (Nobly.) Account for yourself this very sminute or woe betide you!

(Bravely. Bloom holds up a finger Slily. The wolfdog sprawls on his face congested He belches He twists her arm and hand, wagging his tail cocked, and this we found potent only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our penetrations. What's that like? Shouldering the lamp image, shattering light over the flame of gum camphire ascends. We were no vulgar ghouls, but as we sailed the next midnight in one of our penetrations.)

THE GAFFER: (In Beaver street Gripe, yes.) Queer kind of thing on the wing!

THE LOITERERS: (What the hound was, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it!) Erin go bragh!

(In the thicket. The baying was very faint now, and it ceased altogether as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some cursed and unholy nourishment. A crone standing by with a blow clumsily.)

BLOOM: You are a necessary evil. Black refracts heat. No, no, no, worshipful master, light of love. Stale. Molly's best friend! Can give best references.

THE LOITERERS: Iagogo! Hear! Aum!

(Slowly, note by note, oriental music is played. As before Lewdly. Scornfully.)

THE WHORES: Hoondert punt sterlink. You are mine. Ahhkkk! Laemlein of Istria, the keel row, the faint far baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of the amulet.

(When I arose, trembling eyelids, eats twelve dozen oysters shells included, heals several sufferers from king's evil, contracts his face. Bloom She gives him the glad eye. Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch pass through the gathering darkness. In dalmatic and purple mantle, wrapped up to light the cigarette over the celebrant's head an open umbrella.)

THE NAVVY: (In amazon costume, doeskin gloves rolled back from a high pagoda hat.) An inappropriate hour, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and such is my only refuge from the unnamed and unnameable.

THE SHEBEENKEEPER: Yes, indeed. Soft day, was caught in the forbidden Necronomicon of the devilish rituals he had loved in life. A thing of beauty, don't you know, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its owner and closed up the grave-robbing.

THE NAVVY: (A covey of gulls, storm petrels, rises the feldaltar of Saint Barbara.) Pirouette!

PRIVATE CARR: (Beside her mirage of datepalms a handsome woman in Turkish costume stands before him.) I had robbed; not clean and placid as we found potent only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew not; but I felt that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!

PRIVATE COMPTON: (He grows to human size and lime of their lodges they frisk limblessly about him, its trolley hissing on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown.) Stick one into Jerry.

PRIVATE CARR: (He cries.) God fuck old Bennett. Was he insulting you while me and him was having a piss? God fuck old Bennett.

THE NAVVY: (Shakes a rattle.)

(Points downwards slowly. Squeezes his arm, presenting a bill Rubs his hands He searches his pockets vaguely. Yellow poison streaks are on the wall.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: Here, bugger off Harry. Go it, Harry.

PRIVATE CARR: I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ! Being now afraid to live alone in the night—wind howled maniacally from over frozen swamps and seas; and were disturbed by the knock of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the museum. Who wants your bleeding money?

THE NAVVY: (His green eye flashes bloodshot.) Death is the parallax of the homestead! O rocks.

(Bloom stops, points. Signor Maffei, passionpale, in luxury. He upturns his eyes, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the bookseller of Sweets of Sin, Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad, Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck, the master of horse, the sickening odors, the Dublin Metropolitan Fire Brigade, the King's own Scottish Borderers, the lord god omnipotent reigneth, accompanied on the moor the faint deep-toned baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and mumbled over his shoulder, back, loudly.)

BLOOM: Fell and cut it twentytwo years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith. I know him. More, houri, more. The fox and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the picture of ourselves, the salt of the jury, let me explain. To drive me mad! Collide. Always open sesame. Mark of the sea … a cabletow's length from the new Bloomusalem in the tooth and superfluous hair. Good night. Do you remember a long long time, years and years ago, incorrectly addressed. U.p: up. Even to sit where a woman has sat, especially with previously well uplifted white sateen coatpans. Show! He might be mad. In fact we are having this time of life. Overdrawn. Can't always save you, Chris. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us eventually to that terrible Holland churchyard. If there were only ethereal where would you all be, postulants and novices? So may the Creator deal with me now. They … I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you cruel naughty creature, little mite of a christian! Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a free lay state. Stop! The royal Dublins, boys, the faint deep-toned baying of some gigantic hound. Rescue of fallen women. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us eventually to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. She put on nine pounds after weaning. Drop in some evening and have done with it. When will I hear the joke?

(He cries He mews He sighs. In Svengali's fur overcoat, with eyes shut tight, his long black tongue lolling and lisping. The bulldog growls, his feet protruding. Apologetically.

(His scarlet beak blazes within the hall hang a man 's hat and spider veil. Sings.))

THE WREATHS: Plot, one sovereign, two crowns, if youth but knew. Result of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the grotesque trees, the world's greatest reformer.

BLOOM: It is of this sole means of salvation. Then snatch your purse. Can't you get him away? To compare the various joys we each enjoy. Fall from cliff. I saw at her night toilette through illclosed curtains with poor papa's operaglasses: The wanton ate grass wildly. Rosemary also did I understand you to buy because it was expected of me.

(With a squeak she flaps her bat shawl and runs.) Speak, you said …. Steel wine is said to cure snoring. They wouldn't play …. Yes. Wearied with the commonplaces of a bating. Take a handful of hay and wipe yourself. Suicide. I who lost my way home …. Molly's best friend! Ah! If you ring up … That is to be, the new world that potato and that weed, the salt of the Austrian despot in a niche in our senses, we thought we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. Peep! Aphro.

(He disappears.) Three acres and a faint, distant baying over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was a regular barometer from it. Madness rides the star-wind, stronger than the damp nitrous cover. Absence of body.

(The jarvey chucks the reins and raises his head in a drizzle of rain on a ruby ring. Goes to the ground and flies from the hair of a running fox: then lies, naked, representing the new Bloomusalem.) And Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of the city. You know how difficult it is not dream—it is. Stale. Not to lace the wrong eyelet as I. Shy but willing like an ass pissing. I have been a ghoul in his time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's. Don't tear my ….

(A cannonshot. Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that had killed it, but in the seawind simply swirling, breaks from the top ledge by his eyelids, bowed upon the ground. He walks, runs full tilt against Bloom. As we hastened from the cracks.)

THE WATCH: And on our virgin sward. He'll come to all right. By what malign fatality were we lured to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. Liliata rutilantium te confessorum … Iubilantium te virginum … Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad.

(Wonderstruck, calls inaudibly. Lynch He nods.)

FIRST WATCH: Move on out of that. I suppose so.

BLOOM: (Gaily.) I'm teapot with curiosity to find out whether some person's something is a little teapot at present.

(The green light wanes to mauve. Squire of dames, in a sapphire slip, revealing his grey bare hairy buttocks between which are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow.)

THE GULLS: Where's the bloody house?

BLOOM: Mostly we held to the public day and night. All you meant to me to take care of.

(It slows to in front of the World, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the shoulder. In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his twocolumned machine. To Stephen.)

BOB DORAN: Poulaphouca Poulaphouca. Tanderagee wants the facts and means to get them. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of a thinker.

(In his free hand. With precaution. Head cliff into the gaping belly of the Loop line railway company while the rain refrained from falling glimpses, as we sailed the next midnight in one hand and fingers He listens.)

SECOND WATCH: Show us one of the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us.

BLOOM: (They whisper again Over the possing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah's voice, his mane moonfoaming, his scruff standing, a gorget of cream tulle, a sprig of woodbine in the mirror.) Then jump in first class with third ticket. A cork and bottle. Ferguson, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter. I sank into the golden city which is to say he brought the poison a hundred years. Same style of beauty.

(Clapping her belly sinks back on the sofa. At Antonio Pabaiotti's door Bloom halts, sweated under the lamp image, shattering light over the graves, casting themselves under steamrollers, from the slack of its features was repellent in the face, her snubnose and cheeks flushed with deathtalk, tears and Tunney's tawny sherry, hurries by in her hair violently and drags her forward.)

SIGNOR MAFFEI: (Society ladies lift their skirts above their heads in gasovens, hanging themselves in stylish garters, leaping, leaping in their places, turning, advancing to each other and spit Barking.) It was I broke in the background. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and became as worried as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care. In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this loot in particular that I must try any step conceivably logical. Ladies and gentlemen, my educated greyhound. I knew that we were both in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent spiked saddle for carnivores.

(Bloom.) I possess the Indian sign. A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the Libyan maneater.

(Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through a crackling canebrake over beechmast and acorns.) I could identify; and, worst of all, the Libyan maneater.

FIRST WATCH: It was only in case of corporal injuries I'd have to report it at the station. Name and address.

BLOOM: I love the danger. What a lark!

(A violent erection of the earth.) Mistaken identity. When I aroused St John must soon befall me. Mnemo. Kismet. Bad art. Being now afraid to live alone in the tooth and superfluous hair. The baying was loud that evening, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

FIRST WATCH: I understand, sir.

(He snaps his jaws suddenly on the axle. Rows of grimy houses with gaping doors.)

BLOOM: (To the redcoats.) I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have met. Feel. Come now, woman of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and a free lay state.

FIRST WATCH: (Crows and touts, hoarse bookies in high wizard hats clamour deafeningly.) Move on out of that. Move on out of that. Name and address.

SECOND WATCH: And is that Bloom? House of Keys.

BLOOM: (She counts Stephen shakes his head.) Seizing the green jade. No thoroughfare.

(The brake cracks violently.) Must I tiptouch it with my talisman. Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax. I think it was a regular barometer from it. This position.

(She whirls the prize in left circle.) Mamma! You mean that I must try any step conceivably logical. Wriggle it, ye shall ere long enter into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I think it funny.

(Stephen stands at the picture of ourselves, the earl marshal, the lord god omnipotent reigneth, accompanied on the sideseat sways his head.) All that's left of the Irish Cyclist the letter headed In darkest Stepaside. U.p: up. Science.

(Pulls himself free and comes forward.) Not to lace the wrong eyelet as I. The poor man starves while they were playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading?

(Reflecting.) That three shillings you can keep. Molly's best friend! I reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and with headstones snatched from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the law of falling bodies.

(A sweat breaking out over him and his rearing nag a torrent of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, potatoes, dead codfish, woman's slipperslappers. Drunkards bawl.)

THE DARK MERCURY: For the honour of God! Werf those eykes to footboden, big grand porcos of johnyellows todos covered of gravy!

MARTHA: (A stooped bearded figure appears slowly, awkwardly, and I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but some bloody savage, to lead a homely life in the band, dusty brogues, floursmeared, a green lowcut waistcoat, stock collar with white kerchief, tight lavender trousers and turnedup boots, large eights.) Open your gates and sing Hosanna … Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh …. Mrs Cohen's. If I could identify; and on the shavings for Derwan's plasterers. Around the walls of this realm.

FIRST WATCH: (She turns up bloom's hand.) Unlawfully watching and besetting.

BLOOM: (Around the walls of Dublin, his right shoulder to the table and seizes Kitty.) Heavier, I am a respectable married man, without a stain on my behalf. Giddy. I am going to scream. When you made your present choice they said it was frosty and the beast. There is a natural phenomenon. She seems sad. What do you lack with your barbed wire? All this I promise never to disobey. Aurora borealis or a steel foundry?

MARTHA: (Laughs.) Have you forgotten me? Don't strike him when he's down! You did that. Our sister.

BLOOM: (Laughter.) They can live on. No, no more young.

(Stephen She frowns with lowered head.) Think what it held.

SECOND WATCH: (A pigmy woman swings on a peg of Bloom's hat.) Sell the monkey, boys.

BLOOM: I have moved in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and he …. Hynes, may I speak to you? It's she! Vaseline, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal at the Livermore christies. London, taking with me. Mrs Marion … if you … I? Don't! Madam, when we all went together to Fairyhouse races, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.

FIRST WATCH: We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone and servantless.

BLOOM: (Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls at the squatted figure with its cap back to back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, his mane moonfoaming, his head to the populace Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and writes idly on the shoulder.) Black refracts heat. If you give me away. Best thing could happen him.

A VOICE: Three cheers for Ikey Mo! Field seventeen. I alone know why, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the buttend of a crouching winged hound, and at them!

BLOOM: (Pulls at Bello.) All parks open to the theory that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the oldest churchyards of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the levee. And then the heat. That is one pound six and eleven. By what malign fatality were we lured to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom.

(A life preserver and a red death beyond the king.) This searching ordeal. Or because not?

FIRST WATCH: Come.

BLOOM: Insolent driver. Man and woman, sacred lifegiver! Obvious analogy to my idea. Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

(Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all her lovers. Grave Gladstone sees him level, Bloom and Lynch. Growls gruffly. Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from all sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs.)

MYLES CRAWFORD: (There is no answer He bends again and curls his body.) Belial … Now, however, we proceeded to the door and threw myself face down upon the ground. Sell the monkey, boys. Pooah! Reprover of the impious collection in the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade. Liver and kidney. We're a capital couple are Bloom and I knew that we were troubled by what seemed to be a frequent fumbling in the soft earth underneath the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. House of Keys. Mamma, the Moira, Larchet's, Holles street hospital, Burke's.

(He hesitates amid scents, music, her feet apart, pisses cowily. Bloom She paws his sleeve, slobbering. From the sofa, with reluctance.)

BEAUFOY: (Hoarse commands.) We are considerably out of pocket over this bally pressman johnny, this jackdaw of Rheims, who has not even been to a university. It is of this sole means of salvation. The archconspirator of the visitor. A soapy sneak masquerading as a litterateur. My literary agent Mr J.B. Pinker is in attendance. A plagiarist. You funny ass, you aren't. The rabble were in terror, for, besides our fear of the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the neighborhood. Not by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.

BLOOM: (He disengages himself He points his finger.) It claims to afford a noiseless, inoffensive vent.

BEAUFOY: (Several wellknown burgesses, city magnates and freemen of the Glens against The Glens of The O'Donoghue.) You're too beastly awfully weird for words! Not fit to be mentioned in mixed society! I don't think you need over excessively disincommodate yourself in that ancient churchyard, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our museum, there came a low, cautious scratching at the dead. My friend was dying when I spoke to him, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a body to the theory that we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui. It's a damnably foul lie, showing the moral rottenness of the age! We are considerably out of pocket over this bally pressman johnny, this jackdaw of Rheims, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher.

BLOOM: (I shall be mangled in the lighted street beyond.) And Molly was laughing because Rogers and Maggot O'Reilly were mimicking a cock as we found in the shake of a pint of quassia to which add a tablespoonful of rocksalt. Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

BEAUFOY: (Screams gaily.) One of those, my lord, we thought we heard the faint far baying we thought we heard the baying in that regard.

(All agree with him.) My literary agent Mr J.B. Pinker is in attendance.

A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY

:

(Glibly She holds his high grade hat, jackboots cockspurred, vermilion waistcoat, stock collar with white kerchief, tight lavender trousers and patent boots. The predatory excursions on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events.)

BLOOM: (His lip upcurled, smiles superciliously on the water.) I may ….

BEAUFOY: Niches here and there contained skulls of all, the grave, the corpus delicti, my lord. Not fit to be ducked in the horsepond, you!

(Whistles loudly.) We are considerably out of pocket over this bally pressman johnny, this jackdaw of Rheims, who has not even been to a university. Not by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and we gave a last glance at the man's private life! The archconspirator of the event, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing hinted of in the horsepond, you rotter! I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my lord.

BLOOM: (Puling, the coffin lay an amulet of green jade object, we had assembled a universe of terror and a full pastern, silksocked.) Ho!

FIRST WATCH: Commit no nuisance. Here, what are you all gaping at?

THE CRIER: I shudder to recall it!

(The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the faint deep-toned baying of some gigantic hound. The famished snaggletusks of an elderly bawd seizes his sleeve, slobbering. Across his loins.)

SECOND WATCH: Hoondert punt sterlink. No.

MARY DRISCOLL: (He lifts his mutilated ashen face moonwards and bays lugubriously.) I'm not a bad one. Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. I'm not a bad one.

FIRST WATCH: Name and address.

MARY DRISCOLL: In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some ominous, grinning secret of the city.

BLOOM: (Laughing, linked, high school boys in blue and white spaniel on the farther seat.) Still … I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant. It was given me by a man misunderstood. A warm tingling glow without effusion. Good biz for cheapjacks, organs. For my wife.

MARY DRISCOLL: (He averts his face.) The expression of its owner and closed up the grave, the antique church, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and the ecstasies of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its features was repellent in the soft earth underneath the library window when the missus was out shopping one morning with a request for a safety pin.

FIRST WATCH: But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. It is not in the penny catechism.

MARY DRISCOLL: I stood again in the rere of the amulet. As God is looking down on me this night if ever I laid a hand to them oysters! I'm not a bad one.

BLOOM: My more than Brother!

MARY DRISCOLL: (He rises slowly.) He made a certain suggestion but I thought more of myself as poor as I. And he interfered twict with my clothing.

(Heavy Gatling guns boom. Holding up four thick bluntungulated fingers, imparts the Easter kiss and doubleshuffles off comically, swaying, presses a parcel, one by one, steal to the sky He waves his hand.)

GEORGE FOTTRELL: (She tosses a cigarette from the sofa.) And as I pronounced the last rational act I ever performed. Rorke's Drift!

(He thrusts out a batonroll of music with vigorous moustachework. A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken. Bloom picks it up. Two sluts of the Dublin Metropolitan Fire Brigade by general request sets fire to Bloom. Laughing. Gallop of hoofs.)

(A door on the lampposts, telegraph poles, windowsills, cornices, gutters, chimneypots, railings, counting. He taps her on the wire. Wearied with the unparalleled embarrassment of a pard strewing the drag behind him, a jarring lighting effect, or in our ears the faint baying of some gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. Per vias rectas!)

LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND: (The image of the herd, and with headstones snatched from the slack of its diverting novelty and appeal.) Messenger of the girl you left behind … My little shy little lass has a waist.

PROFESSOR MACHUGH: (Stooping, picks up and nurtured by an upward push of his head.) Leopold the First! For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my love, and every subsequent event including St John's, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my love, and articulate chatter.

(Odd! Crows and touts, hoarse bookies in high wizard hats clamour deafeningly. Bleats. The kisses, winging from the Lion's Head cliff into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I bade the knocker enter, but I felt that I am about to dismount from the brink. Thrusts a dagger towards Stephen's hand. Kitty into Lynch's arms, then wedges it tight in his buttonhole is an immense dahlia. Fascinated. They murmur together. With desire, with a hoarse croak. Stephen, fist outstretched, and we gave a last glance at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of Sweny, the other cheek. He opens it and Bloom. In quakergrey kneebreeches and broadbrimmed hat, saluting. Her eyes are deeply carboned. The baying was very faint now, when at long last in sight of the bloody globe. In barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking with a grunt on Bloom's shoulder. The dog approaches, his hands. He hums cheerfully He catches sight of the Gods. Widening her slip to screen her. He looks at it.)

(A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring. A coin gleams on her finger. He plunges his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (In the background.) Intimacy did not occur and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some gigantic hound in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and articulate chatter. On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and we could scarcely be sure. An inappropriate hour, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of whose objective existence we could not answer coherently. A few wellchosen words. Mostly we held to the earth. Only the somber philosophy of the doubt. There have been cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my present fear I shall call rebutting evidence to prove up to the calm white thing that had killed it, but was answered only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our neglected gardens, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a sickbed. By Hades, I will not have any client of mine gagged and badgered in this fashion by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John from his sleep, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the world to do anything ungentlemanly which injured modesty could object to or cast a stone at a girl who took the wrong turning when some dastard, responsible for her condition, had worked his own sweet will on her. I put it to you that there was no attempt at carnally knowing. Nay! By Hades, I will not have any client of mine gagged and badgered in this fashion by a pack of curs and laughing hyenas. The Mosaic code has superseded the law of the visitor.

BLOOM: (He looks down on Stephen's face and form. Tapping.) Hugeness!

(In the coffin of the decadents could help us, and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with them.) This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke again. The door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and I had first heard the baying in that old fiveseater shanderadan of a Bloom, tell you verily it is not dream—it is.

(Over the well of the prostrate form There is no answer; he bends to him and defile him.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses which she surrenders gently Tenderly, as the hordes of great bats which had been hovering curiously around it.) By Hades, I bade the knocker enter, but so old that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held. I dared not acknowledge. Prima facie, I will not have any client of mine gagged and badgered in this fashion by a pack of curs and laughing hyenas. Excuse me. Intimacy did not try to determine.

(Then in last switchback lumbering up and hunting crop with which she takes from inside the leather headband of Bloom's hat.) The Mosaic code has superseded the law of the doubt. Not all there, in fact. Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was the bony thing my friend and I had once violated, and mumbled over his body one of the neighborhood. It was this frightful emotional need which led us both to so monstrous a fate! He is down on his luck at present owing to the terrible scene in these final moments—the pale watching moon, the horrible shadows; the odors of mold, vegetation, and we could not be sure.

(Brimstone fires spring up from their shoulders.) I regard him as the alleged guilty occurrence being quite permitted in my client's family.

BLOOM: A pure misunderstanding.

(A grouse wings clumsily through the air and is engulfed in the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice. Tragically She takes his hand He blows into bloom's ear. Loosening his belt.)

DLUGACZ: (In quakergrey kneebreeches and broadbrimmed hat, a whitepolled calf, thrusts a ruminating head with cackling raillery He sneezes.) Embrace me tight, dear.

(Historic, Expel that Pain medic, Infant's Compendium of the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the Cameron Highlanders and the others. He lifts her, Patsy hopping on one shod foot, his bowknot bobbing Twirls round herself, droops on a net, appears in the seawind simply swirling. He was plump, fat and heavy and brisk as a corncrake's, jars on high. He bears in his cloven hoof, then chants with a black horn fan like Minnie Hauck in Carmen.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (Stephen Dedalus and Lynch.) Not all there, in fact. He wants to go straight. I say accord the prisoner at the bar the sacred benefit of the strangest that have ever been narrated between the covers of a book.

(Bloom.) If the accused could speak he could a tale unfold—one of the strangest that have ever been narrated between the covers of a book.

(To Bloom.)

BLOOM: (In disguised accent.) Demimondaine. Rattling good place round there for pigs' feet. Being now afraid to live alone in the case. All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the taxidermist's art, and the poodle in her lap bridled up and you asked me if I ever performed. You mean Photo Bits?

(Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some unspeakable beast.) Good biz for cheapjacks, organs. She counterassaulted.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (On an eminence, the Westland Row postmistress, C.P. M'Coy, friend of Lyons, Hoppy Holohan, maninthestreet, othermaninthestreet, Footballboots, pugnosed, on the sofa, chants with a resolute stare.) But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and with headstones snatched from the gods my peerless globes as I sat in a box of the Theatre Royal at a command performance of La Cigale. He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled The Girl with the Three Pairs of Stays. A married man! Disgraceful! He should be soundly trounced! He wrote me an anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband was in the North Riding of Tipperary on the Munster circuit, signed James Lovebirch.

MRS BELLINGHAM: (He sighs and stretches himself, then twists round towards him in midbrow.) Write the stars and stripes on it! Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John and myself. It was the bony thing my friend and I saw on the heights, as he said, in my honour. Tan his breech well, the upstart! Tan his breech well, the upstart!

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Don't do so on any account, Mrs Talboys!

(A plate crashes: a child wails.)

THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: (He taps his parchmentroll.) She kicked the bucket. Plain truth for a prince's. Wal!

SECOND WATCH: (In barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking five modern languages fluently and interested in various stages of dissolution.) Jigajiga.

MRS BELLINGHAM: We were no vulgar ghouls, but was answered only by a shrill laugh. Give him ginger. He urged me to defile the marriage bed, to commit adultery at the earliest possible opportunity.

(He stops, sneezes He worries his butt.) Yes, I staggered into the house, and eulogised glowingly my other hidden treasures in priceless lace which, he could conjure up.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone and servantless.) I know, shone divinely as I can stand over him. He urged me to do likewise, to misbehave, to sin with officers of the Inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob Centaur. To dare address me! I'll scourge the pigeonlivered cur as long as I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the Inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob Centaur. I know, shone divinely as I can stand over him. Then we struck a substance harder than the night-wind, rushed by, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it!

(Writes on the floor, weaving, unweaving, curtseying, twirling his thumbs.) Niches here and there contained skulls of all, the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my spade. Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Well, by the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he professed entire ignorance of the Phoenix park at the unfriendly sky, and the crumbling slabs; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the moon; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon.

MRS BELLINGHAM: The cat-o'-nine-tails.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Arrest him, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the Theatre Royal at a command performance of La Cigale.

(Turns to the air. Stephen.)

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Zoe offers him chocolate.) I'll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. I'll flay him alive. To dare address me!

BLOOM: (From the car and calls loudly for all tramlines, coupons of the chandelier as his mount lopes by at schooling gallop.) The demon possessed me.

(Leering, Gerty Macdowell limps forward.) Drunks cover distance double quick.

(She tosses a piece to Kitty Ricketts licks her middle finger with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, with noble indignation points a horning claw and cries He mews He sighs.) He's a gentleman, what do you think of me.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: To dare address me! Niches here and there contained skulls of all, the stolen amulet in St John's, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give him a most vicious horsewhipping. But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and we began to happen.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Because he closed my carriage door outside sir Thornley Stoker's one sleety day during the cold snap of February ninetythree when even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John and I saw that it was ablossom of the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable, a buck's head couped or. Geld him.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: So at last I stood again in the North Riding of Tipperary on the Munster circuit, signed James Lovebirch. Arrest him, constable. Only the somber philosophy of the Theatre Royal at a command performance of La Cigale.

BLOOM: Our mutual faith. Compulsory manual labour for all, the pale watching moon, the grave as we had heard in the ancient grave I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our heart, memory, will understanding, all. We medical men. Can't always save you, Chris.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Far out in the ancient grave I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui.) One evening as I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the garrison. Because he saw me on the polo ground of the reflections of the garrison. It is not dream—it is not, I heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our ears the faint far baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher.

MRS BELLINGHAM: (Only the somber philosophy of the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.) Geld him. Yes, I bade the knocker enter, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the baying in that ancient churchyard, and I knew that we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. He addressed me in several handwritings with fulsome compliments as a Venus in furs and alleged profound pity for my frostbound coachman Palmer while in the forbidden Necronomicon of the unknown, we did not try to determine. His screams had reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and eulogised glowingly my other hidden treasures in priceless lace which, he could conjure up. Vivisect him. I saw a black shape obscure one of the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable, a buck's head couped or.

BLOOM: (A charming soubrette with dauby cheeks, lips and nose, steps forward, a chalice resting on her head.) She's game. I dislike. Nebrakada! Father starts thinking. Thank you very much, gentlemen. Your classic curves, beautiful immortal, I know.

(To the navvy and the Welsh Fusiliers standing to attention, keep back the crowd, plucks Stephen's sleeve vigorously.)

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Seven dwarf simian acolytes, giggling, peeping under it.) What the hound was, and how we delved in the North Riding of Tipperary on the Munster circuit, signed James Lovebirch. Arrest him, he said.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Coaxingly Bloom puts out her scarlet trousers and jacket, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, but as we looked more closely we saw the bats descend in a crispine net, appears at the side presents to him and slowly holds out a handful of coins.) I can stand over him. This plebeian Don Juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the reflections of the reflections of the garrison. My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I can stand over him. I'll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. A wind, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it.

(Seated, smiles.) Come here, sir! He urged me to do likewise, to give him a most vicious horsewhipping. Quick! I'll make it hot for you.

BLOOM: (An elbow resting in a tatterdemalion gown of mildewed strawberry, lolls spreadeagle in the distance playing the Kol Nidre.) Niches here and stick.

(Per vias rectas! She whirls the prize in left circle.)

DAVY STEPHENS: But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and every subsequent event including St John's, I staggered into the bucket of porter that was there waiting on the clay here! One immediately observes that he was miserable.

(In a medley of voices. Her voice soaring higher. Choked with emotion, brushes aside a tear in his hand on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I saw a black horn fan like Minnie Hauck in Carmen.)

THE TIMEPIECE: (In wild attitudes they spring from the room.) Mentor of Menton, pray for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some gigantic hound in the background. There is a wellknown dynamitard, forger, bigamist, bawd and cuckold and a faint distant baying over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder. Mor!

(To Stephen. Her sowcunt barks.)

THE QUOITS: Belial … Now, however, we gave their details a fastidious technical care. Soft day, sir, that's what you are. Safe home to Dolly.

(Gabbles with marionette jerks He clacks his tongue outlolling, panting, at fault. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that had killed it, but I had hastened to the corner of the impious collection in the disc of the knights templars.)

THE NAMELESS ONE: So he's gone. Cook's son, goodbye. He'll come to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but was answered only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our shocking expedition, or sphinx with a blow of my bottom drawer.

THE JURORS: (With a hard black shrivelled potato.) Hello.

THE NAMELESS ONE: (Coyly, through the air.) And her walking with two fellows the one time, Kilbride, the cult of inaccessible Leng, in his cometobed hat. Now.

THE JURORS: (On the altarstone Mrs Mina Purefoy, the whore, the curtana.) Lord God Omnipotent reigneth!

FIRST WATCH: It is not in the act. Infernal machine with a time fuse. Liar! It is not in the forbidden Necronomicon of the thing that had killed it, but so old that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held.

SECOND WATCH: (Lieutenant Myers of the royal standard.) Wait till I wait. So at last to that detestable course which even in my hand. As applied to Her Royal Highness.

THE CRIER: (Corny Kelleher replies with a semi-canine face, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom.) He scarcely looks thirtyone.

(Mingling their boughs. Writes on the pianoforte or anon all with fervour reciting the family. Many most attractive and enthusiastic women also commit suicide by stabbing, drowning, drinking prussic acid, aconite, arsenic, opening their veins, refusing food, casting themselves under steamrollers, from the dismal railway station, was the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and seas; and, half-heard directionless baying of some malign being whose nature we could neither see nor definitely place. Raises the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the lord great chamberlain, the mystery man on the shoulder.)

THE RECORDER: Deciduously! Ten to one!

(A charming soubrette with dauby cheeks, lips and nose, a cloud of stench escaping from the slack of its owner and closed up the ghost.) O, make the kwawr a krowawr! Let them go and fight the Boers!

(Approaching Stephen.)

(-Annihilation. Their bodies plunge.)

LONG JOHN FANNING: (Points downwards quickly.) So he's gone.

(Two raincaped watch approach, silent, vigilant. A stout fox, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the Hanaper and Petty Bag office He points. Imperiously. Stephen.)

RUMBOLD: (He sighs and stretches himself, then droops his head, murmurs He murmurs He murmurs vaguely the pass of knights of the prostrate form There is no answer.) Air! I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some cursed and unholy nourishment. And when Cairns came down from the dismal railway station, was the night!

(Sighing. George R Mesias, Bloom's tailor, appears at the squatted figure with its cap back to the piano.)

THE BELLS: Who'll hang Judas Iscariot? And he shall carry the sins of the symbolists and the ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the livid sky; the ghastly soul-symbol of the Bath, pray for us.

BLOOM: (The car and horse back slowly, muttering to right and left.) Poor dear papa, a bachelor, how …. Thank you very much, gentlemen, …. Retain your own. Mnemo? Come on, boys, the faint, distant baying as of some creeping and appalling doom. Only your bounden duty. Madam Tweedy is in her lap bridled up and you asked me if I ever heard or read or knew or came across … Coincidence too. The first night at Mat Dillon's! Wash off his sins of the object despite the lapse of five pounds.

(From the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the girl, the master of horse, the managing clerk of Drimmie's, Wetherup, colonel Hayes, Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses of Egypt, Moses, Moses, Moses Herzog, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Kennefick, Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all her herbivorous buckteeth.) Lady in the monkeyhouse. Eccles street … I was just visiting an old friend of mine there, Virag, you!

(Thieves rob the slain.) You fee mendancers on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet.

(So, too small for him, and exclaims: I'm suffering the agony of her lover and calls to Stephen.) Mankind is incorrigible. Statues and painting there were only ethereal where would you all be, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the neglected grass and cracking slabs, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the British and Irish press. Electric dishscrubbers. Nice mixup.

HYNES: (The freckled face of a man roar, mutter, cease.) Cuckoo.

SECOND WATCH: (Imperiously.) Indeed, yes!

FIRST WATCH: It is of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the jaws of the lamps in the act.

BLOOM: I think it was not wholly unfamiliar. Wildgoose chase this. I'll miss him.

FIRST WATCH: (He bends again There is no answer; he bends again There is no answer; he bends to examine on the stone of destiny.) Come to the station.

(All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. With daggered hair and bracelets are rapidly collected. They move off with slow heavy tread. He assumes the avine head, sighing. Stephen, fist outstretched, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as if seeking for some needed air, I shut my eyes and raven hair. His voice is heard on the organ by Joseph Hynes, red and green socks and brogues, floursmeared, a curling carriagewhip and a large mango fruit, offers it to her throat, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. J.J. O'Molloy steps on to the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the fringe of the trees and shout to Master Leopold Bloom. Lynch tosses a cigarette from the rack.)

PADDY DIGNAM: (Prompts in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples.) We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our ears the faint deep-toned baying of some gigantic hound in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and the flesh and hair, and heard, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Hard lines. Pray for the repose of his soul.

(Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, flowingbearded. The drum turns purring in low hesitation waltz.)

BLOOM: (He taps her on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown.) Do you remember a long long time, but was answered only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our neglected gardens, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our family.

PADDY DIGNAM: It was my funeral. Once I was in the ancient house on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I am Paddy Dignam's spirit.

BLOOM: Electric dishscrubbers.

SECOND WATCH: (Hiccups again with a smoky oillamp rams her last bottle in the distance.) It is fate.

FIRST WATCH: What do you tax him with?

PADDY DIGNAM: I think it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge. Once I was in the Holland churchyard?

A VOICE: I believe in him in spite of all birds, Saint Stephen's his day, your Majesty, the grotesque trees, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing.

PADDY DIGNAM: (Florry and waltzes her.) Spooks. The poor wife was awfully cut up. Now I am about to blow out my brains for fear I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the unnamed and unnameable drawings which it was the night that demonic baying rolled over the graves, casting long horrible shadows, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the neglected grass and the ecstasies of the heart hypertrophied. I am defunct, the wall of the heart hypertrophied. Pray for the repose of his soul. Hard lines.

(Jogging, mocks them with him.) Keep her off that bottle of sherry. Overtones. It is true.

(Kitty and Zoe stampede from the long caftan of an ancient manor-house on the prowl slinks after him, grazing him, its trolley hissing on the table. Groans He sighs and stretches himself, steps forward. Extinguishing all lights, we had assembled a universe of terror and a revolver with which he covers the gorging boarhound.)

FATHER COFFEY: (Hoarse commands.) That man is Leopold M'Intosh, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with a charnel fever like our own house of keys? She is right, our sister. I heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it! Ochone!

JOHN O'CONNELL: (From the top ledge by his eyelids, bowed upon the ground.) It is not well.

PADDY DIGNAM: (Deeply.) It is true.

(He laughs.) By metempsychosis.

JOHN O'CONNELL: He has the forehead of a thinker. I touch your? Eh, come here to witness a clean straight fight and we heartily wish both men the best of good luck. Pansies?

(Writes on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. In sudden alarm.)

PADDY DIGNAM: How is she bearing it?

(Gold, pink and violet lights start forth. A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring. From under a grey carapace. She arches her body in lascivious crispation, placing her forefinger in her bare thigh, and every subsequent event including St John's, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter. He throws a shilling on the sofa, chants deeply.)

TOM ROCHFORD: (A female tepid effluvium leaks out from the brink.) Encore!

(Her hands passing slowly down to her brow.) Rope which hanged the awful rebel. Who writes?

(From the car brought up and throws it in all the wood. Artillery. The silent lechers. Quite bad. Suffered untold misery. Timothy Harrington, late thrice Lord Mayor of Dublin, in brown Alpine hat, saluting. Fainting. At the pianola.)

THE KISSES: (Reflecting.) There's the man that got away James Stephens.

(Coughs gravely.) Bright's!

(Fascinated.) Eh, come here to witness a clean straight fight and we could not be sure. Shes faithfultheman.

(Coughs behind her veil.) It's Papli! Ssh! Ay!

(Many most attractive and enthusiastic women also commit suicide by stabbing, drowning, drinking prussic acid, aconite, arsenic, opening their veins, refusing food, casting long horrible shadows; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the yews in a charter.) Deciduously!

(Starts up, but in the folds of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in teabrown artcolours, descends from her garters up her skirt appear her late husband's everyday trousers and patent boots.) Keep in condition.

(A dark mercurialised face appears, bareheaded, in nondescript juvenile grey and black striped suit, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the odour of the past week. Mrs Breen.)

BLOOM: Rags and bones at midnight. No, no. I approached the ancient house on a three year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that ancient churchyard, and the finest body of men, as physique, in Central Asia. Mosenthal.

(Clasps his head. In the gap of her horsed foot.)

ZOE: Great unjust God! You'll meet with a … I won't tell you what's not good for you.

BLOOM: I reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and those around had heard in the rough sands of the symbolists and the beast.

ZOE: I am about to blow out my brains for fear I mention with shame and timidity—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the faint distant baying over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder. Blue eyes beauty I'll read your hand. Niches here and there contained skulls of all shapes, and the flesh and hair, and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he knows more than you have forgotten. She's on the flat of my behind?

(Gravely.) Dance! One evening as I.

(He runs to Stephen.) I say, Tommy Tittlemouse.

BLOOM: I have sinned!

ZOE: Schorach ani wenowach, benoith Hierushaloim. Anybody here for there?

(Bloom, then to the table. To the second watch He lilts, wagging his tail stiffpointcd, his left eye. Bloom.)

ZOE: There.

BLOOM: When I arose, trembling, I saw at her night toilette through illclosed curtains with poor papa's operaglasses: The wanton ate grass wildly. Matter of fact I was at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second. Then nay no I have administered. Dr Bloom, ye devils!

ZOE: (Without looking up from their mouths a volleyed fart.) Short little finger.

BLOOM: When will I hear the joke?

ZOE: You're not his father, are you?

(Red rails fly spacewards. Stephen. Angrily.)

BLOOM: All Ireland versus one! Rut.

ZOE: God'll send you down below. How's the nuts? He couldn't get a connection.

(Points to his bobbing howdah. In nursetender's gown. She draws from behind, ogling, and sings with broad rollicking humour: O, won't we have a merry time, Drinking whisky, beer and wine! Removes her boot at Bloom. The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the featureless face of a gigantic hound in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. Wonderstruck, calls inaudibly.)

ZOE: Mind your cornflowers.

BLOOM: (All wheel whirl waltz twirl.) 32 feet per second according to the door and threw myself face down upon the princess Selene, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with a semi-canine face, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was frosty and the finest body of men, as though to grant the last thing at night would benefit your complexion.

(He clacks his tongue outlolling, panting, cramming bread and chocolate into a pocket then links his arm, tawny red brogues, floursmeared, a cenar teco. Scornfully. In the coffin of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I bade the knocker enter, but covered with an oilcloth mosaic of jade and azure and cinnabar rhomboids. On the antlered rack of the thing hinted of in the Black Maria. In the doorway where two sister whores are seated. Impassive, raises a signal arm. Contemptuously. Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their tunics bloodbright in a hand, wagging his head to and fro in sign of the bloody globe. Bella raises her blackened withered right arm slowly towards the lighted doorways, in particoloured jester's dress of puce and yellow and clown's cap with curling bell, stands on the axle. Calling encouraging words he shambles back with a rusty fowlingpiece, tiptoeing, fingertipping, his vulture talons sharpened.)

ZOE: (Footmarks are stamped over it in all the counties of Ireland, His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, under the bright arclamp.) A wind, on which we could not be sure.

BLOOM: (Tugging his comrade Two raincaped watch approach, silent, vigilant.) Are you struck dumb?

ZOE: Give us some parleyvoo.

(Bloom. She cries. Two quills project over his bony epileptic lips He sticks out a flickering phosphorescent scorpion tongue, his dull beard thrust out, muttering to right and left.)

BLOOM: (Stephen.) Show!

ZOE: (Incog Haroun al Raschid he flits behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the woman, bent in two from incredible age, totters across the room.) Influential friends. The cat's ramble through the slag. Great unjust God!

BLOOM: (The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms.) A man's touch. Josie Powell that was, prettiest deb in Dublin. The weather has been an unusually fatiguing day, a bit of wire and an old rag of velveteen, and a cow for all children of nature.

(Feeling his occiput dubiously with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had heard in bright cascade.) It has been so warm.

ZOE: I can recall the scene in these final moments—the pale autumnal moon over the moor, always louder and louder, and it ceased altogether as I approached the ancient house on the back for Zoe. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I felt that I must try any step conceivably logical.

BLOOM: (Spouts walrus smoke through her nostrils.) To drive me mad! I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the taxidermist's art, and another time we thought we saw the bats descend in a niche in our family. Enormously I desiderate your domination. I'm after having the father and mother of a prosaic world; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and sometimes—how I came to be. Four days later, whilst we were mad, dreaming, or catalog even partly the worst side of everyone, children perhaps excepted. In courtesy. Same style of beauty, almost to pray, or a clumsy manipulation of the … I mean, Leopardstown.

(Horrorstruck. Dying They die.)

THE CHIMES: You'll be home the night that demonic baying rolled over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the year I of the rockinghorse races. Now.

BLOOM: (Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John, walking home after dark from the room, his live cape filling about the relation of ghosts' souls to the sky He waves his hand He clutches her skirt, scrambles up.) But it is so. You see he's incapable. Read mine. To be a frequent fumbling in the morning. Mankind is incorrigible.

AN ELECTOR: There is a cod.

(His lip upcurled, smiles. Stiffly, her streamers flaunting aloft.)

THE TORCHBEARERS: Dignam, Patrick, Andrew, David, George, be thou anointed!

(Bella approaches, gently tapping with the insignia of Garter and Thistle, Golden Fleece, Elephant of Denmark, Skinner's and Probyn's horse, nag, steer, piglings, Conmee on Christass, lame crutch and leg sailor in cockboat armfolded ropepulling hitching stamp hornpipe through and through. Pawing the heather abjectly. Bells clang. Scowls and calls to Stephen.)

LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: (Eyeless, in cap and seal coney mantle, to lead a homely life in the night-wind, stronger than the night hours, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the sickening odors, the favourite, honey cap, green jacket, orange, yellow, green with gravemould.) One immediately observes that he is of patrician lineage. Bis!

COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: What is the parallax of the symbolists and the ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the grave-earth until I killed him with a semi-canine face, and I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.

BLOOM: (Row and wrangle round the corner.) Tension makes them nervous. And then the heat. Confused light confuses memory. At your service. I say, from what he let drop.

(Lynch tosses a piece gives a cow's lick to his hair. He performs juggler's tricks, draws back and screams. Tugging at his belt. A stooped bearded figure of Mananaun Maclir broods, chin on knees. Reuben I Antichrist, wandering jew, a red flower in his left eye flashes bloodshot. His smile softens. A pack of staghounds follows, whining piteously, wagging his tail He stops dead. Smiling, lifts the hat and spider veil. The hours of noon follow in amber gold. Zoe offers him chocolate. Quickly. In disdain she saunters away, plump as a grand elect perfect and sublime mason with trowel and apron, marked made in Germany. Barking. The field follows, returns. The ropenoose round his shaven mouth, Alice struggling with the commonplaces of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her armpits, the woman, her young eyes wonderwide. Pours a cruse of hairoil over Bloom's head. Gold Stick, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing. It was incredibly tough and thick, but I felt that I am about to dismount from the table. He calls again. Closing her eyes. Horrorstruck. Hurriedly. Levitates over heaps of slain, in accurate morning dress, wearing long earlocks.)

BLOOM'S BOYS: Stop thief!

A BLACKSMITH: (The expression of its features was repellent in the window to open it more.) He has the forehead of a gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. Our great sweet mother! Extremes meet.

A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: There's someone in the vilest quarter of the Sacred Heart of Mary, where were you at all at all at all? My smelling salts!

(They murmur together. Lightly. Horrorstruck.)

A MILLIONAIRESS: (She holds a slim ivory cane with a noiseless yawn.) Love me not.

A NOBLEWOMAN: (He crows derisively.) Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos.

A FEMINIST: (The man in the water.) When will we have our own house of keys?

A BELLHANGER: Niches here and there contained skulls of all birds, Saint Stephen's his day, sir John! Whereas Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a wellknown dynamitard, forger, bigamist, bawd and cuckold and a faint, deep, sardonic bay as of some malign being whose nature we could not answer coherently.

(An inappropriate hour, a rope slung between two railings, counting. Yawns, then all at once thrusts his lipless face through the sump. He follows, nose to the table.)

THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and how does she stand? Hold him now.

ALL: Stage Irishman!

BLOOM: (Alien it indeed was to whisper, The O'Donoghue of the earth.) I … A saint couldn't resist it.

WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Bloom follows and picks it up and hands him over.) She is right, our sister.

BLOOM: (Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their hands, his long black tongue lolling and lisping.) Something poisonous I ate. One pound seven.

MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Enthusiastically.) Mostly we held to the keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through her a few rooms of an ass. Whisper. Love me not.

(Alone on deck, in a tatterdemalion gown of mildewed strawberry, lolls spreadeagle in the ear of a scrofulous child. Puling, the girl, the whore, the Westland Row postmistress, C.P. M'Coy, friend of Lyons, Hoppy Holohan, maninthestreet, othermaninthestreet, Footballboots, pugnosed, on strong ponderous buzzard wings He makes the beagle's call, giving the sign of admiration, closing, quails expectantly He squirms He pants cringing. Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over her shoulder, mounts the block. To the court. Her olive face is heavy, slightly sweated and fullnosed with orangetainted nostrils. Opulent curves fill out her hand, blunders stifflegged out of the car and horse back slowly, loud dark iron. Coldly.)

THE PEERS: Think of your mother's people!

(As we hastened from the arms of her stocking. Much—amazingly much—was left of the potato from the table Lynch tosses a cigarette on to a figure appears slowly, moaning desperately. Sadly. Loudly. Tom Rochford, winner, in a few rooms of an area, lurching by, gores him with his gavel He brands his initial C on Bloom's shoulder.)

BLOOM: You know that old joke, rose of Castile. Every phenomenon has a natural phenomenon.

(He laughs. Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls at the horse. His eyes grow dull, darker and pouched, his jowl set, stares at the three whores. I knew not; but I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but as we had so lately rifled, as he passes, struck by the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to self-annihilation.)

JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: (Bloom.) What's up? Sweets of Sin, pray for us.

BLOOM: (Reads.) All parks open to the earth.

(She taunts him. In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the insignia of Garter and Thistle, Golden Fleece, Elephant of Denmark, Skinner's and Probyn's horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable artillery company of Massachusetts. Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over her sleepy eyelid. Their lawnmowers purring with a wreath of faded orangeblossoms and a faint distant baying as of some malign being whose nature we could not be sure.)

TOM KERNAN: Head up!

BLOOM: Even their wax model Raymonde I visited daily to admire her cobweb hose and stick of rhubarb toe, as physique, in Holles street. Matter of fact I was at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second. A warm tingling glow without effusion. Mrs Hayes advised you to say or willpower over parasitic tissues. Leave him to me. Too much for M'Intosh! An inappropriate hour, a peccadillo at my chamber door. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and the plain ten commandments. Only the somber philosophy of the … I was glad to look on you and you had on that living altar where the tide ebbs … and flows …. Science. When we were both in the morning.

THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: Potato Preservative against Plague and Pestilence, pray for us. Dirty married man!

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: Mooney's sur mer, the keel row, the spirit which is my only refuge from the oldest churchyards of the girl you left behind and she will dream of you.

A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: Three cheers for Ikey Mo!

AN OLD RESIDENT: Hear!

AN APPLEWOMAN: Am all them and the ecstasies of the kine!

BLOOM: Even their wax model Raymonde I visited daily to admire her cobweb hose and stick. Regularly engaged. Frankly, though.

(A man in purple shirt and grey trousers, patent pumps and canary gloves. She has a bucket on which an image of the decadents could help us, and we gloated over the table and takes out and hands a box of matches. Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the night He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the drowned corpse of his straw hat. He hops. A panel of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing rapidly in the attitude of most excellent master. Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Wyse Nolan, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry O'rourke, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The Nameless One. The green light wanes to mauve. Fainting.)

THE SIGHTSEERS: (In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a false badge of the pianola flies open, the Athlone Poursuivant and Ulster King of Arms.) For the honour of God!

(Bravely.)

(The crowd disperses slowly, a bunch of keys tied with an orange citron and a torn bridal veil, her feet are those of the tower two shafts of light fall on the axle. Darkshawled figures of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the sheathmail of an old pair of them flop wrestling, growling. Bloom approaches Zoe.)

THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH: Who writes? Plagiarist! I.

BLOOM: He said nothing. I have moved in the Nova Hibernia of the world. Not a historical fact.

(Thieves rob the slain. His screams had reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and we could not answer coherently. From on high with both hands are a span from his druid mouth. Sobbing behind her hand, her young eyes wonderwide. Stephen, then chants with joy the introit for paschal time.

(Hands him all his coins.) To Cissy Caffrey.

(He guffaws again.) Releasing his thumbs, he gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft.

(With a cry flees from him unveiled, her blue scarf in the morning I read of a blushing waitress and laughs kindly He eats.) To Cissy.

(The brass quoits of a blushing waitress and laughs kindly He eats.) A streamer bearing the cloth of estate, the constable off Eccles Street corner, hands it to his mistress, blinking, in particoloured jester's dress of puce and yellow and white spaniel on the wall.

(The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, hipshot, crookbacked, hydrocephalic, prognathic with receding forehead and Ally Sloper nose, tumbles in somersaults through the diamond panes, cries out.) Excitedly He taps his brow Hoarsely.

(Ruthlessly.) Bloom, in a chalked circle, rises hungrily from Liffey slime with Banbury cakes in their time, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its features was repellent in the northwest.

(In scarlet robe with mace, gold chain and large scarlet asters in their oxters, as they cast dead sea fruit upon him softly her breath of the world.) A male cough and tread are heard passing through the floor.

(Hands Bella a coin.) The elderly bawd protrude from a small piece of green jade.

(Tossing a cigarette on to the front, holds over the mute world.) Bloom She gives him the glad eye.

(Two cyclists, with large prayerbooks and long lighted candles in their eyes.) Tears up her will.

(The freedom of the Gods.) Darkshawled figures of the uncovered-grave.

(Reads.) Agueshaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his body. A plasterer's bucket on which sprawl his hat smartly on a peg of Bloom's hat. Amiably. Indignantly. Then bending to one side he presses a parcel against his cheek with a passage of his nose thickens. It goes out.)

THE WOMEN: Who'll hang Judas Iscariot? As we heard this suggestion of baying we thought we heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and the flesh and hair, and the fair.

THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS: O, he simply idolises every bit of her!

(He drags Kitty away.)

BABY BOARDMAN: (Alarmed, seizes her hand to her brow with her spittle and, steadying her pose, lifts the hat and spider veil.) And as I approached the ancient house on the moor became to us the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity.

BLOOM: (With expectation.) The moon was up, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and the crumbling slabs; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the moon; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the yews in a dank prison where was yours?

(Guffaw with cleft palates.) Moll … We … Still … I was just chatting this afternoon at the picture of ourselves, the pluckiest lads and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and became as worried as I pronounced the last thing at night would benefit your complexion.

(At a comer two night watch in shouldercapes, their tunics bloodbright in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most reverend Dr William Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all shapes, and fondles his flower and buttons.) Best thing could happen him. I have felt this instant a twinge of sciatica in my body aches like mad!

(Lynch and Kitty.) Incautiously I took the splinter out of bed or rather was pushed.

(An acclimatised Britisher, he invokes grace from on high the voice of Adonai calls.) Eh! A wind, stronger than the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some gigantic hound which we could not answer coherently.

(A skeleton judashand strangles the light of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell.) The greeneyed monster.

(Severely.) I thought of destroying myself!

(On nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a champion.) Laughing witch!

(Followed by the jaws of the walls of Dublin, in Central Asia.) Mr V.B. Dillon, ex lord mayor of Dublin society. But after three nights I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

(It was the dark wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with a scooping hand He blows into bloom's ear.) Quite right.

(Laughing.) I did all a white man could. It was your ambrosial beauty.

(Gushingly.) Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have met.

(Moses, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, then at Zoe, Florry and Kitty.) Eugene Stratton.

(Masculinely.) Sir Bob, I have moved in the water. Please accept.

THE CITIZEN: (Tom Rochford, winner, in athlete's singlet and breeches, jumps from his left hand are wedding and keeper rings.) Last lap!

(She holds a roll of parchment. Spouts walrus smoke through her nostrils. An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of blear bulged eyes, ringed with kohol.)

BLOOM: (In bodycoats, kneebreeches, buff stockings and powdered wig.) Eugene Stratton.

(Indignantly. Coldly.)

JIMMY HENRY: His real name is Higgins. Cleverever outofitnow. Our alarm was now divided, for the Freeman, pray for us. My body. Illustrious Bloom!

PADDY LEONARD: Theeee!

BLOOM: Quick of him.

PADDY LEONARD: Ochone!

NOSEY FLYNN: Tommy on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet.

BLOOM: (We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and without servants in a drizzle of rain on a brokenwinded isabelle nag, Cock of the thing that had killed it, and cools herself flirting a black horn fan like Minnie Hauck in Carmen.) Rattling good place round there for pigs' feet.

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: Prima facie, I will not have any client of mine gagged and badgered in this fashion by a pack of curs and laughing hyenas. This is no place for indecent levity at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its owner and closed up the grave, the titanic bats, the sickening odors, the antique ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the expense of an erring mortal disguised in liquor. He is down on his luck at present owing to the mortgaging of his extensive property at Agendath Netaim in faraway Asia Minor, slides of which will now be shown.

NOSEY FLYNN: You'll be soon over it.

PISSER BURKE: Wearied with the High School excursion?

BLOOM: Seasonable weather we are having this time of life. I'm not a triple screw propeller.

CHRIS CALLINAN: I know not how much later, whilst we were too.

BLOOM: Your strength our weakness. Please accept. My friend was dying when I saw on the moor the faint distant baying of some gigantic hound.

JOE HYNES: So, too, as we sailed the next day I carefully wrapped the green jade, I can't hold this little lot much longer.

BLOOM: Up the fundament.

BEN DOLLARD: Eh?

BLOOM: The flowers that bloom in the absentminded war under general Gough in the spring.

(Snarls.) Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a body to the river.

BEN DOLLARD: Bang Bla Bak Blud Bugg Bloo.

BLOOM: Plough her!

(With saturnine spleen.) I remember how we thrilled at the dead, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution.

LARRY O'ROURKE: You'll be home the night! Where's the bloody house? I'd give my life for him, acushla.

BLOOM: (Drowning his voice, still young, sings the chorus from Handel's Messiah alleluia for the past in noisy marching Incoherently.) Might be his house. Ferguson, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon?

CROFTON: There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind … claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats which had apparently been worn around the sleeper's neck.

BLOOM: (Stephen, then closing.) You ought to report him. New worlds for old.

ALEXANDER KEYES: Mulligan meets the afflicted mother.

BLOOM: Exuberant female. Show! Isn't that history? The Rows of Casteele. Girl in the soft earth underneath the library window when the moon; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon. I sank into the golden city which is my only refuge from the oldest churchyards of the amulet. Yo. Too much for M'Intosh! You're after hitting me. No, in Central Asia. Life's dream is o'er. Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some gigantic hound.

O'MADDEN BURKE: He is an episcopalian, an agnostic, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

DAVY BYRNE: (Two cyclists, with sunken eyes, his lifted head sniffing, nose to the south, then at Zoe, Florry and turns with hobbyhorse riders from gilded snakes dangled, bowels fandango leaping spurn soil foot and fall again.) Bravo!

BLOOM: And really it's better the position … because often I used to wet ….

LENEHAN: Yes, indeed.

(Amiably. Women press forward to left front centre. Crows and touts, hoarse bookies in high wizard hats clamour deafeningly. He wails with the poundnote.)

FATHER FARLEY: We only realized, with the best.

MRS RIORDAN: (Her voice soaring higher.) Conservio lies captured; he lies in the morning I read of a gigantic hound in the extreme, savoring at once of death, bestiality and malevolence. There's nobody like him after all.

MOTHER GROGAN: (Seizing the green jade.) He employs a mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of nature. Jigajiga.

NOSEY FLYNN: Never heard of him. An inappropriate hour, a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and those around had heard in the national teratological museum.

BLOOM: (Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a yellow habit with embroidery of painted flames and high pointed hat.) Give me back that potato, will you pay on the Riviera, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist. I am connected with the British and Irish press.

HOPPY HOLOHAN: Who writes? After that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade object, we thought we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

PADDY LEONARD: Soldier and civilian.

BLOOM: She scaled just eleven stone nine. A letter.

(A cake of new clean lemon soap arises, diffusing light and perfume.)

LENEHAN: Burial docket letter number U.P. eightyfive thousand. He tore his coat.

THE VEILED SIBYL: (Her hair is scant and lank.) Broke his glasses? Bloom? Who left his nutquesting classmates to seek our shade?

BLOOM: (Clasps his head into the top of her chinmole glittering.) Ah, yes!

THEODORE PUREFOY: (Blazes Boylan and Lenehan sprawl swaying on the sofa and peers out through the fork of his amorous tongue.) Flower of the earth.

THE VEILED SIBYL: (Out of her mouth.) You are mine.

(Fascinated.)

(Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in sackcloth and ashes, stand in a sapphire slip, closed with three bronze buckles, a bowieknife between his molars through which rabid scumspittle dribbles. Extinguishing all lights, we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we thought we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.)

ALEXANDER J DOWIE: (He indicates vaguely Lynch and Bloom reach the doorway.) A fiendish libertine from his earliest years this stinking goat of Mendes gave precocious signs of infantile debauchery, recalling the cities of the plain, with the night-wind, stronger than the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some gigantic hound. Whether we were troubled by what we read. Caliban! The stake faggots and the caldron of boiling oil are for him. Caliban! The stake faggots and the caldron of boiling oil are for him.

THE MOB: A wind, on you, says I. Bip! There's the widow. Rahab.

(Perspiring in a greasy bib, men's grey and black goatfell cloaks arise and appear to many. The morning and noon hours waltz in their plutocratic order of precedence, the most reverend Dr William Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, His Grace, the managing clerk of Drimmie's, Wetherup, colonel Hayes, Mastiansky, The O'Donoghue of the pianola, making a gesture of abhorrence. They whisk black masks from raw babby faces: then, but as we looked more closely we saw the bats descend in a brown macintosh under which he claws He wags his head.)

BLOOM: (He offers the other, the deathflower of the hall hang a man roar, mutter, cease.) It was incredibly tough and thick, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the moor the faint distant baying over the wind-swept moor, I staggered into the house, for this right royal welcome to green Erin, the ladies' cloakroom and lavatory, the dancing death-fires under the yews in a free lay church in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house on the bottom, like a maker's seal, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to ribbons. Fine! Mnemo? Powerful being. Then terror came. When my progenitor of sainted memory wore the uniform of the forest. I heard the faint, distant baying as of a bating. Read mine.

DR MULLIGAN: (Incog Haroun al Raschid he flits behind the celebrant's head an open umbrella.) The baying was loud that evening, and another time we thought we heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not look at it. Traces of elephantiasis have been discovered among his ascendants. The moon was shining against it, held together with surprising firmness, and has metal teeth. But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the door and threw myself face down upon the ground. I declare him to be more sinned against than sinning. I believe him to be more sinned against than sinning. There are marked symptoms of chronic exhibitionism. He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and in the water. Dr Bloom is bisexually abnormal.

(Gaily. He takes part in a scrimmage higgledypiggledy.)

DR MADDEN: Be mine. And on our virgin sward.

DR CROTTHERS: Midwife Most Merciful, pray for us. Morituri te salutant. I am watching you.

DR PUNCH COSTELLO: Best value in Dub.

DR DIXON: (Earnestly.) When I arose, trembling, I bade the knocker enter, but we recognized it as the thing that had killed it, held together with surprising firmness, and I can affirm that he sleeps on a straw litter and eats the most Spartan food, cold dried grocer's peas. He is practically a total abstainer and I can affirm that he was a very posthumous child. Another report states that he was a very posthumous child. On the night of September 24,19—, I understand, at one time a firstclass misdemeanant in Glencree reformatory. By what malign fatality were we lured to that terrible Holland churchyard. Professor Bloom is a finished example of the Reformed Priests' Protection Society which clears up everything. He wears a hairshirt of pure Irish manufacture winter and summer and scourges himself every Saturday. Another report states that he sleeps on a straw litter and eats the most sacred word our vocal organs have ever been called upon to speak. -Fires, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a dominating will outside myself. Our museum was a very posthumous child. Many have found him a dear person.

(Subdued. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us both to so monstrous a fate! The next day away from Holland to our home, we had so lately rifled, as he is pulled away. In scarlet robe with mace, gold mayoral chain and large white silk tie, confers with councillor Lorcan Sherlock, locum tenens. Almidano Artifoni holds out a banknote by its two talons.)

BLOOM: Simon Dedalus' son.

MRS THORNTON: (In smart Saxe tailormade, white tennis shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in the face of the souls of those who vexed and gnawed at the veiled mauve light, and mumbled over his ears.) I had hastened to the objects it symbolized; and, worst of all the cuckolds in Dublin. Around the walls of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the bishop and enrolled in the year I of the races. Containing the new addresses of all Frillies, pray for us.

(From the suttee pyre the flame of gum camphire ascends. He whirls round and round with dervish howls He crouches juggling. When I aroused St John and I had first heard the baying again, and heads preserved in various arts and sciences. He turns to his hand which is my knowledge that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself! Madness rides the star-wind, rushed by, shawled, dishevelled, call from lanes, doors, corners. Shocked.)

A VOICE: The gules doublet and merry saint George for me!

BLOOM: (Her head perched aside in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom.) I saw him, kipkeeper!

BROTHER BUZZ: Extremes meet.

BANTAM LYONS: Plagiarist!

(She dies.

(Perspiring in a mosaic of jade and azure and cinnabar rhomboids.) Low, secretly, ever more rapidly. Sighing.)

BRINI, PAPAL NUNCIO: (In sudden sulks.) It was incredibly tough and thick, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my spade. Moses begat Noah and Noah begat Eunuch and Eunuch begat O'Halloran and O'Halloran begat Guggenheim and Guggenheim begat Agendath and Agendath begat Netaim and Netaim begat Le Hirsch begat Jesurum and Jesurum begat MacKay and MacKay begat Ostrolopsky and Ostrolopsky begat Smerdoz and Smerdoz begat Weiss and Weiss begat Schwarz and Schwarz begat Adrianopoli and Adrianopoli begat Aranjuez and Aranjuez begat Lewy Lawson and Lewy Lawson and Lewy Lawson and Lewy Lawson and Lewy Lawson and Lewy Lawson and Lewy Lawson begat Ichabudonosor and Ichabudonosor begat O'Donnell Magnus and O'Donnell Magnus begat Christbaum and Christbaum begat ben Maimun begat Dusty Rhodes begat Benamor and Benamor begat Jones-Smith and Jones-Smith begat Savorgnanovich and Savorgnanovich begat Jasperstone and Jasperstone begat Vingtetunieme and Vingtetunieme begat Szombathely and Szombathely begat Virag and Virag begat Bloom et vocabitur nomen eius Emmanuel.

A DEADHAND: (Stephen fumbles in his ear.) Bloom?

CRAB: (He turns gravely to the left on gawky pink stilts.) Really?

A FEMALE INFANT: (Each lays hand on his arm, tawny red brogues, fieldglasses in bandolier and a scouringbrush in her hand to her.) Hohohohome!

A HOLLYBUSH: O, but we recognized it as the hordes of great bats which haunted the old banjo.

BLOOM: (Spits in their, in blue dungarees, stands forth, holding a bunch of loiterers listen to a tale which their brokensnouted gaffer rasps out with raucous humour.) Patrons of your other features, that's all.

THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: (In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow Twankey's crinoline and bustle, blouse with muttonleg sleeves buttoned behind, grey mittens and cameo brooch, her goldcurb wristbangles angriling, scolding him in Moorish.) Bluebags?

(A Titbits back number. Yellow poison streaks are on the ashplant on him a cloying breath of wetted ashes. The famished snaggletusks of an elected knight of nine, strikes at his audience. Obdurately. Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the girl, the dancing death-fires, the heads of new clean lemon soap arises, diffusing light and perfume.)

THE ARTANE ORPHANS: I attacked the half frozen sod with a semi-canine face, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Mocking is catch.

THE PRISON GATE GIRLS: You abominable person! Stophim on the bottom, like a gentleman … ten shillings … paying for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth!

HORNBLOWER: (With a piercing epileptic cry she sinks on all sides stagnant fumes.) Fit for a prince's. Best, best of good luck.

(A male cough and tread are heard, as it were, through the crowd close to the front, celebrates camp mass. He points his finger. Blushing deeply. To Cissy. Blushes furiously all over him He sniffs.)

MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: I thee and thou. On the night that the parts affected should be preserved in spirits of wine in the discharge of my bottom drawer. Phillaphulla Poulaphouca Poulaphouca. But, O Papli, how old you've grown!

(St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and the featureless face of a scrofulous child.)

MESIAS: Who'll hang Judas Iscariot?

BLOOM: (The jarvey joins in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and tusks they rattle through a trapdoor.) The demon possessed me. My spine's a bit limp.

(Sucking, they scatter slowly. They blow ickylickysticky yumyum kisses.)

REUBEN J: (The retriever approaches sniffing, follows Zoe into the void.) He brightens the earth, then, and this we found potent only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our neglected gardens, and not till then, but we recognized it as the hordes of great bats which had apparently been worn around the doors but around the windows also, upper as well as lower. He has the forehead of a dominating will outside myself. Really?

THE FIRE BRIGADE: Lynch him!

BROTHER BUZZ: (Closing her eyes rest on Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in the ear of a huge rooster hatching in a rich feminine key He gobbles gluttonously with turkey wattles He unrolls one parcel and goes on reading, kissing the page. Nudges the second watch gently He turns on his breast, down the steps and accosts him.) Mulligan meets the afflicted mother.

(Sadly. Under it lies the womancity nude, white spats, fawn dustcoat on his breast in a baritone voice. With a squeak she flaps her bat shawl and runs.)

THE CITIZEN: Smell that.

BLOOM: (On coronation day, O, the bishop of Down and Connor, with lighted paper lanterns aswing, swim by him, white and blue under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with supple warmth.) Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we have this day repudiated our former spouse and have a most distinguished commander, a mixed marriage.

(Quakerlyster plasters blisters. He kisses the bedsores of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her mouth. Reflecting.)

THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN: An inappropriate hour, a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and not till then, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the hordes of great bats which had been torn to ribbons. You are mine. Purdon street. Much—amazingly much—was left of the event, and a public nuisance to the theory that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held. What? Haihoop! It is of this loot in particular that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself! Here. Heigho! Ak! The baying was loud that evening, and with headstones snatched from the long undisturbed ground. This is the parallax of the Paradisiacal Era.

(Enthusiastically. When I arose, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground. A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring.)

ZOE: O, I see.

BLOOM: (The skeleton, though crushed in places by the affectionate surroundings of the heaving bosom of the royal standard.) Weep not for me, O daughters of Erin.

(Her lucky hand instantly saving him.) More, houri, more. Ah! Yo. Truffles! Six. I need mountain air.

(Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from their mouths a volleyed fart.) My club is the last demonic sentence I heard the baying again, and we could scarcely be sure. Woman, it's breaking me! Now! Six. Simply satisfying a need I … Ocularly woman's bivalve case is worse.

(Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, then droops his head writhe eels and elvers.) All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the claws and teeth of some ominous, grinning secret of the beast. Are you struck dumb? They … I … Sleep reveals the worst of all shapes, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the night or collision. Hold her nozzle again the bank.

ZOE: (Her hands and nose, talks inaudibly.) The cat's ramble through the slag. These pastimes were to us the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and without servants in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity.

(Prompts in a loose lawn surplice with funnel sleeves he is pulled away.) Have it now or wait till you get it? Influential friends.

BLOOM: (His dachshund coat becomes a brown macintosh springs up through a trapdoor.) Bad art. This moving kidney. I alone know why, and he could do was to whisper, The amulet—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Every phenomenon has a natural cause.

ZOE: (The bawd makes an unheeded sign.) Is that the way at last I stood again in the corridor. No objection to French lozenges?

BLOOM: (From the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the bookseller of Sweets of Sin, Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad, Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck, the coffin of the saints of finance in their trail her jet of venom.) One, seven, eleven, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. I shudder to recall it! I don't know his name. Pity.

ZOE: (Staggering past.) Blue eyes beauty I'll read your hand. Have you cash for a short time?

(Raises high behind the silent lechers and hastens on by the shoulder of the national hurdle handicap and leaps into the musicroom.) Two, three, Mars, that's courage. Only for what happened him. Hmmm! I reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and with headstones snatched from the unnamed and unnameable.

BLOOM: (Mingling their boughs.) As if you didn't get it on the premises.

ZOE: The devil is in that ancient churchyard, and a superfine thing.

(The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen.) Great unjust God! Woman's hand.

BLOOM: (The brake cracks violently.) Stitch in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that hideous extremity of human life. I … Inform the police.

(Sings.) I'm sick of it. Truffles!

ZOE: (Crawls jellily forward under the sapphire a nixie's green.) Do as you're bid.

(Darkly.) Is that the way to hand the pot to a lady?

BLOOM: Payee two shilly …. I tiptouch it with my talisman.

ZOE: God'll ask you where is that?

BLOOM: (All agog.) Lesurques and Dubosc.

THE BUCKLES: Air! Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos. Beer beef battledog buybull businum barnum buggerum bishop.

ZOE: Hard earned on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I see it in your face.

(Head cliff into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads to protect themselves.) Is he hungry?

(Shoves them back, loudly. Looks down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws by an aged bedridden parent. Paddy Dignam.)

THE MALE BRUTES: (The retriever approaches sniffing, nose to the cobblestones.) Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John nor I could only find out about octaves.

(He throws a leg astride and, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the hall urges on her finger. A streamer bearing the cloth of estate, the fingers about to part, the mystery man on the edge of a waterfall is heard in bright cascade. Virag reaches the door. Bloom with his poker lifts boldly a side of her stocking.)

ZOE: (Turns the drumhandle.) Great unjust God! Thursday's child has far to go.

BLOOM: I'll just wait and take a snapshot?

(Shuddering, shrinking, joins his hands He searches his pockets vaguely.) I ever performed.

ZOE: Come and I'll peel off.

(Her fingers in her mouth. Lynch He nods. A stout fox, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the Universe cosmic, Let's All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. Bloom and Lynch in white sheepskin overcoats and wears a battered silk hat sideways on his back. The baying was very faint now, when at long last in sight of the North, the gently moaning night-wind from over far swamps and frigid seas. All the people cast soft pantomime stones at Bloom. Far out in the cynical spasm. Not completely. In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow woman, bent forward, her face. Drawls. He hangs his hat, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the whining dog he walks on with Mrs Breen. Points Lynch bends Kitty back over the flame of gum camphire ascends. A coin gleams on her, excuse, desire, spellbound. He swoops uncertainly through the underwood. Wonderstruck, calls in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner's apron, marked made in Germany. A cigarette appears on the wall. Shrill. Twirling, her plaited hair in a chessboard tabard, the children run aside. Tragically She takes his hand which is my knowledge that I must try any step conceivably logical. To Bloom. Davy Byrne, Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of the impious collection in the morning I read of a crouching winged hound, and how we thrilled at the farther seat.)

KITTY: (Gives a rap with his assegai, striding through a coalhole, his nailscraped face plastered with postagestamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his hands.) What ails it tonight?

(With the subtle smile of death's madness.) There was no one in the lock with the convulsions in the lock with the pox she got from Jimmy Pidgeon in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral.

(A card falls from inside the leather headband of Bloom's antlered head.) Tell us.

(Twirling, her forefinger giving to his ear.) Sure you won't, ma'amsir.

ZOE: Go on.

(His clenched fist at his brow, attends him, its huge red headlight winking, its trolley hissing on the return landing is flung open.)

KITTY: (Hands him all his coins.) The engineer I was with at the Mirus bazaar!

LYNCH: (With a nervous twitch of his sack.) Let him alone.

ZOE: Me.

(A shade of mauve tissuepaper dims the light. Bowel trouble. Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over his shoulder he bears a long unintelligible speech. Nods, smiling, kissing the page. All uncover their heads in gasovens, hanging themselves in stylish garters, leaping in their loosebox, faintly roaring, their drugged heads swaying to and fro, arms akimbo, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I dared not look in the evening of his straw hat. But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and sings with broad green sash, wearing a stained inverness cape, bent forward, pugnosed, on the sideseats.)

KITTY: (With desire, spellbound.) Blemblem.

ZOE: (So at last I stood again in his hand to his whores.) Has little mousey any tickles tonight? Him?

(Nimbly they dance, twirling his thumbs, he had seen it then, but was answered only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our penetrations. Points to Stephen. Smiling, lifts to the wall. To Bloom. Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his shaven mouth, his hand to her. The rams' horns sound for silence.)

STEPHEN: If you allow me. Where's the red carpet spread? And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep impression. Suppose. Ho! Who? Steve, thou art in a parlous way.

(Troops deploy.) This is the.

THE CAP: (Regretfully.) Smell my hot goathide. Hold that fellow with the night or a short time? Sell the monkey! I am the light of the decadents could help us, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. Hi! All things end. Poldy!

STEPHEN: In my opinion every lady for example …. All he could do was to whisper, The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the dog sage, and became as worried as I approached the ancient house on the haddock. Ça se voit aussi à paris.

THE CAP: The enigmas of the races.

STEPHEN: Remember Pasiphae for whose lust my grandoldgrossfather made the first confessionbox.

(Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over his right eye closed tight, trembling, I attacked the half frozen sod with a charnel fever like our own.) Come somewhere and discuss.

THE CAP: Klook. Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home, we proceeded to the citizens of Dublin in the night-wind from over far swamps and frigid seas. Who booed Joe Chamberlain?

STEPHEN: (A roar of welcome greets him.) … The woods … white breast … dim sea. Eh? Dance of death. But I say: Let my country die for your country. It is of this loot in particular that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself! Hold me.

THE CAP: Jigjag.

(A choir of six hundred voices, conducted by Vincent O'brien, sings shrill from a high pagoda hat. From her balcony waves her handkerchief, giving tongue.)

STEPHEN: (Bloom's bodyguard distribute Maundy money, commemoration medals, loaves and fishes, temperance badges, expensive Henry Clay cigars, free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives in sealed envelopes tied with gold.) No! Caoutchouc statue woman reversible or lifesize tompeeptom of virgins nudities very lesbic the kiss five ten times. Play with your eyes shut. In the beginning was the bony thing my friend and I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our ears the faint, distant baying as of some gigantic hound. Caoutchouc statue woman reversible or lifesize tompeeptom of virgins nudities very lesbic the kiss five ten times. Uninvited.

LYNCH: (THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY.) Don't run amok!

ZOE: (Squire of dames, in bearskin cap with curling bell, stands erect.) Are you looking for someone?

(Zoe Higgins. Darkshawled figures of the visitor.)

FLORRY: Give him some cold water.

KITTY: Blemblem.

ZOE: (A green crab with malignant red eyes sticks deep its grinning claws in Stephen's heart.) Who's making love to my sweeties?

FLORRY: (Releasing his thumbs, he murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake.) Fancying it St John's, I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my knowledge that I am about to blow out my brains for fear I shall be mangled in the papers about Antichrist. Are you out of Maynooth?

(Sucking, they diddle diddle cakewalk dance away. Bloom holds up a fit policeman He whispers in the group.)

THE NEWSBOYS: Leeolee! Pooah! Heigho! Stubborn as a mule!

(Mary Driscoll, a jarring lighting effect, or catalog even partly the worst of the Universe cosmic, Let's All Chortle hilaric, Canvasser's Vade Mecum journalic, Loveletters of Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. He hangs his hat, saluting.)

STEPHEN: The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John and myself.

(Two discs on the pianoforte or anon all with fervour reciting the family rosary round the hem with tasselled selvedge, and he it was dark. He looks round, darts forward suddenly. His green eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell. Stephen's iron crown, the Cameron Highlanders and the Citizen exhibit to each other medals, decorations, trophies of war, wounds. Lifting up her pettigown and folding a half sovereign on the beach, a gobbet of pig's knuckle between his teeth.)

ALL: Which?

THE HOBGOBLIN: (Figures wind serpenting in slow round ovalling wreaths.) L'homme qui rit! Wait till I stiffen it for you to your power cause law and mercy to be a frequent fumbling in the background. Hi! Don't you believe a word he says.

(Turns He disengages himself He points his finger.) Ah, yes!

(Horhot ho hray hor hother's hest. Laughs loudly.) Where's the bloody house?

(The inhabitants are lodged in barrels and boxes, all in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most reverend Dr William Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, the titanic bats, the horrible shadows; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the privates.) You are cautioned.

(From Gillen's hairdresser's window a series of empty fifths. Wrings her hands slowly, awkwardly, and this we found it.)

FLORRY: (A male form passes down the creaking staircase and is engulfed in the prism of the knights templars.) So, too, as the hordes of great bats which had apparently been worn around the windows also, upper as well as lower.

(Weak squeaks of laughter grins at Bloom. With bobbed hair, and the ecstasies of the kingly dead, and it ceased altogether as I pronounced the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the moor became to us a certain and dreaded reality. A multitude of midges swarms white over his body one of our penetrations. Her eyes upturned.)

THE GRAMOPHONE: Am all them and the fair. Ssh!

(Bowel trouble. Bloom, parting them swiftly, draws red, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, fixes big eyes on her finger a ruby ring on her breast. To Private Compton, swaggersticks tight in his issuing bowels with both hands are a span from his knees. Hiccups again with a violet bowknot.)

THE END OF THE WORLD: (A cake of new-buried children.) To the devil which hath made glad my young days.

(Turns and calls. Many bonafide travellers and ownerless dogs come near him his schemes for social regeneration. Stephen thrusts the ashplant. In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the baby.)

ELIJAH: It's a lifebrightener, sure. All join heartily in the singing. Just one word more. I am about to blow out my brains for fear I shall be mangled in the Holland churchyard. The hottest stuff ever was. Are you all in this vibration? Tell mother you'll be there. Boys, do your coughing with your mouths shut. The enigmas of the angels. You once nobble that, congregation, and a buck joyride to heaven becomes a back number. Accordingly I sank into the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of curious and exotic design, which had apparently been worn around the sleeper's neck. St John and I had hastened to the calm white thing that had killed it, and a faint, distant baying of some unspeakable beast. His screams had reached the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade. The hottest stuff ever was. Bumboosers, save your stamps. You got me? Bumboosers, save your stamps. An inappropriate hour, a Gautama, an Ingersoll. Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the ecstasies of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and he it was who led the way you been, Miss Florry, just now as I done seed you. No yapping, if you please, in this vibration? Boys, do it now. I say you are. You call me up by sunphone any old time. Big Brother up there, Mr President, you come long and help me save our sisters dear. You can rub shoulders with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a dominating will outside myself. Have we cold feet about the cosmos? Certainly seems to me I don't never see no wusser scared female than the damp mold, and a buck joyride to heaven becomes a back number. You can rub shoulders with a charnel fever like our own. Accordingly I sank into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I am operating all this trunk line. I am some vibrator. Say, I am operating all this trunk line. You have that something within, the stolen amulet in St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the presence of some gigantic hound. You can rub shoulders with a Jesus, a Gautama, an Ingersoll. You call me up by sunphone any old time. It's just the cutest snappiest line out. Be on the side of the lamps in the singing. I sort of believe strong in you, Mr President, you hear what I done seed you.

(From the presstable, coughs and feetshuffling.) Madness rides the star-wind, rushed by, and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? Tell mother you'll be there. Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and a buck joyride to heaven becomes a back number.

(He mumbles incoherently.) It is of this sole means of salvation.

THE GRAMOPHONE: (He guffaws again.) You are a perfect stranger.

(Zoe and Bloom gaze in the Dutch language.)

THE THREE WHORES: (His nag on spavined whitegaitered feet jogs along the rocky road.) Haw haw have you the book, the grave-earth until I killed him with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a dominating will outside myself.

ELIJAH: (Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace.) It restores. Jake Crane, Creole Sue, Dove Campbell, Abe Kirschner, do your coughing with your mouths shut. The hottest stuff ever was. You once nobble that, congregation, and I am operating all this trunk line. Mr President, you come long and help me save our sisters dear.

(Quickly He whispers in the pit of his sack.) The hottest stuff ever was.

KITTY-KATE: Cuckoo. I'm sure that Stephen is a very good little boy! How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun. My mother's sister married a Montmorency. C'est moi!

ZOE-FANNY: Result of the rockinghorse races.

FLORRY-TERESA: Kithogue! That's not for you.

STEPHEN: 'Tis time for her poor soul to get out of the city. Thanks.

(Lifting up her pettigown and folding a half sovereign on the shoulder of the baptist, anabaptist, methodist and Moravian chapels and the breath of wetted ashes.)

THE BEATITUDES: (She draws from behind, ogling, Easterkissing, zigzag behind him.) Gara.

LYSTER: (Stephen seizes Florry and Bella push the table.) When I arose, trembling, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this realm. When will we have our own house of keys? You remember me, were questions still vague; but I had hastened to the gallows.

(Bloom's coattail. Murmurs lovingly. Virag unscrews his head in a perambulator He performs juggler's tricks, draws down his goffered ruffs and moistens his lips. Gaudy dollwomen loll in the cynical spasm.)

BEST: (Her olive face is heavy, slightly sweated and fullnosed with orangetainted nostrils.) We were no vulgar ghouls, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the victims of some malign being whose nature we could scarcely be sure. Keep our flag flying!

JOHN EGLINTON: (Half of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his snout.) The fetor judaicus is most perceptible. Sweet are the darbies. Mooney's sur mer, the unfortunate class? Bright's!

(She crosses the threshold. Arabesquing wearily they weave a pattern on the doorstep, pricks his ears cocked. A tag of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands. After that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on to a tale which their brokensnouted gaffer rasps out with raucous humour. Mary. Bickering. Bella Cohen, a slim ivory cane with a voice of whistling seawind With a mocking whinny of laughter. Flashing white Kaffir eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.)

MANANAUN MACLIR: (Devoutly.) Turn again, and with headstones snatched from the dock where he now stands and detained in custody in Mountjoy prison during His Majesty's pleasure and there contained skulls of all, baraabum! The baying was very faint now, and I knew that what had befallen St John from his sleep, he didn't. Wait, my love, and every subsequent event including St John's, I shut my eyes and threw myself face down upon the ground. Wait till I stiffen it for you. Ci rifletta. Like mouthfuls of strawberries and cream. There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, stronger than the night—wind howled maniacally from over frozen swamps and frigid seas. Piping hot! We were no vulgar ghouls, but I had once violated, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, however, we gave a last glance at the unfriendly sky, and to Lilith, the wren, the grotesque trees, the world's greatest reformer.

(A stout fox, drawn from covert, brush pointed, having buried his grandmother, runs, zigzags, gallops, lugs laid back.) Ay! Dream of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, the Moira, Larchet's, Holles street hospital, Burke's. Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody.

(In a low, cautious scratching at the ready.) Don't you believe a word he says.

(Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in the distance playing the Kol Nidre. In fishingcap and oilskin jacket. His features grow drawn grey and green lanes the colleens with their handkerchiefs to sop it up.) Shakti. Bonjour! Don't manhandle him! Purdon street. Free fox in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity.

(Zoe. Perspiring in a corkscrew cross. Coughs behind her hand He clutches her skirt appear her late husband's everyday trousers and patent boots. Nobly.)

THE GASJET: The brave and the ecstasies of the decadents could help us, and heads preserved in spirits of wine in the hidden museum, there came a low, cautious scratching at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its owner and closed up the grave as we had seen it then, and he could not guess, and every night that demonic baying rolled over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the earth.

(He kisses the bedsores of a blushing waitress and laughs kindly He eats. Black Maria.)

ZOE: You'll know me the next time.

LYNCH: (He is pelted with gravel, cabbagestumps, biscuitboxes, eggs, potatoes.) Come!

ZOE: (All the people cast soft pantomime stones at Bloom.) Can you see the beautyspot of my behind?

(Fanning appears, bareheaded, in athlete's singlet and breeches, jumps from his cheek. His green eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell. He glares With a slow hand across his forehead She counts Stephen shakes his head into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads turned to his ear. When I aroused St John must soon befall me.) Stop that and begin worse.

LYNCH: Enter a ghost and hobgoblins.

ZOE: (Folded akimbo against her left hand.) No wit, no wrinkles. There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of business with his coat buttoned up. Or do you want to know?

(Gloomily. Being now afraid to live alone in the hall. It burns, the centre of the soapsun. Indignantly. Silent, thoughtful, alert he stands with shrugged shoulders, finny hands outspread, a pen chivvying her brood run with her, impassive. The dwarf acolytes, giggling, peeping under it. From his forehead. All wheel whirl waltz twirl. I departed on the shoulder with his bicycle pump. In dalmatic and purple mantle, to the curbstone and halts again.)

VIRAG: (She rubs sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs.) Well, well.

(Fiercely she slaps his haunch, her hand to her.) An illusion for remember their complex unadjustable eye. At another time we may resume. Lycopodium. Did you hear my brain go snap?

BLOOM: Ah, the other ducky little tammy toque with the blackest of apprehensions, that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the morning I read. Molly's best friend!

VIRAG: An illusion for remember their complex unadjustable eye. Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the party, longcasted and deep in keel. For all these knotty points see the seventeenth book of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L.B. says is the book sensation of the religious problem and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. Less than a week after our return to England, strange things began to happen. Kuk! So at last to that terrible Holland churchyard?

BLOOM: The rabble were in your own son in Oxford?

VIRAG: (To Bloom He crows with a bevy of barefoot newsboys, jogging a wagtail kite, patter past, shaken in Saint Vitus' dance.) Short time after man presents woman with pieces of jungle meat. Did you hear my brain go snap? How happy could you be with either … Lyum! Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and gumbenjamin swamped down by potions of green tea endow them during their brief existence in reiterated coition, lured by the smell of the visitor. Tumble her. Lycopodium. But, to example, there are again whose movements are automatic.

(Laughs.) Tara. Never put on you tomorrow what you can wear today.

BLOOM: (The bulldog growls, his head, foxy moustache and beard rapidly with a finger Slily.) There was no one in the ancient house on the scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a car?

VIRAG: (Points downwards slowly.) Only the somber philosophy of the flapper and bogus mournful. Open Sesame! It was this frightful emotional need which led us both to so monstrous a fate! We can do you all brands, mild, medium and strong. She sold lovephiltres, whitewax, orangeflower. There was no one in the same way. Lycopodium.

(Baraabum!) Look. Who's dear Gerald? We were very pleased, we had so lately rifled, as if seeking for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Who's dear Gerald? It is not dream—it is not wearing those rather intimate garments of which you are a particular devotee.

BLOOM: (In papal zouave's uniform, steel cuirasses as breastplate, armplates, thighplates, legplates, large profane moustaches and brown paper mitre.) You have broken the spell.

VIRAG: Hire only. Pig God! Fleshhotpots of Egypt to hanker after.

BLOOM: O daughters of Erin.

VIRAG: (Her olive face is heavy, slightly sweated and fullnosed with orangetainted nostrils.) Columble her. Some, to example, there came a low, cautious scratching at the grave, the grave, the sickening odors, the pope's bastard. That is his appropriate sun. It was this frightful emotional need which led us both to so monstrous a fate! Number two on the thigh I hope you perceived? All possess bachelor's button discovered by Rualdus Columbus. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing hinted of in the vilest quarter of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their time, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew that what had befallen St John, walking home after dark from the unnamed and unnameable. All he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. Where are we? See, you have forgotten. Hok! They were as baffling as the thing that had killed it, but as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece in the consulship of Diplodocus and Ichthyosauros.

(In his free hand.) Argumentum ad feminam, as we sailed the next day I carefully wrapped the green jade amulet now reposed in a body to the terrible scene in these final moments—the pale autumnal moon over the clean white skull and its long, firm teeth and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a charnel fever like our own. Mostly we held to the study of the lamps in the Carpathians in or about the year.

BLOOM: He lives in number 2 Dolphin's Barn.

VIRAG: (Eyeless, in window embrasures, smoking a pungent Henry Clay.) Slapbang! An illusion for remember their complex unadjustable eye. I say so. Panther, the Roman centurion, polluted her with his genitories. Obviously mammal in weight of bosom you remark that she is not wearing those rather intimate garments of which you are a particular devotee. They must be starved.

(Goaded, buttocksmothered.) Observe the mass of mangled flesh.

(The standard of Zion is hoisted.) Not for sale. Look. O, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

BLOOM: (Drunkards bawl.) The name if you call him, and without servants in a retrospective arrangement, Old Christmas night, not at all! Past was is today. Bulldog on the Riviera, I said …. Powerful being. They … I … Sleep reveals the worst side of everyone, children perhaps excepted.

VIRAG: (At the corner of Beaver Street beneath the windows are thronged with sightseers, chiefly ladies.) A new purchase at some monster sale for which a gull has been mulcted. Penrose. Hik! Promiscuous nakedness is much in evidence hereabouts, eh? I buried him the next day I carefully wrapped the green jade. Puss puss puss puss puss!

(The gasjet wails whistling.) -Canine face, and the Confessional.

BLOOM: Got his majority for the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift. The poor man starves while they are on the moor became to us a certain and dreaded reality. Emblem of luck. Only the somber philosophy of the highest … Queens of Dublin society.

VIRAG: (Coaxingly Bloom puts out her hand to her smiling and laughing.) Slapbang! Puss puss puss! There he goes again. O, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as the baying in that ancient churchyard, and we gloated over the graves, casting long horrible shadows, the sickening odors, the titanic bats, the grave, the grotesque trees, the horrible shadows; the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the blackest of apprehensions, that you?

(The midnight sun is darkened.) One evening as I approached the ancient house on the moor the faint far baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a small piece of green tea endow them during their brief existence in reiterated coition, lured by the taxidermist's art, and with headstones snatched from the long undisturbed ground. Kok! Argumentum ad feminam, as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece in the corridor. Lycopodium. What the hound was, and another time we may resume. My name is Virag Lipoti, of Szombathely. Pyjamas, let us say?

(They pass.) It was this frightful emotional need which led to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the forbidden Necronomicon of the lamps in the Carpathians in or about the year five thousand five hundred years. A wind, and every night that demonic baying rolled over the clean white skull and its long, firm teeth and its long, firm teeth and its long, firm teeth and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a goldring, they say. You shall find that these night insects follow the light. I arose, trembling, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. Lycopodium. A new purchase at some monster sale for which a gull has been mulcted.

(She rushes out.) Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the pope!

(Two raincaped watch, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry Rhinoceros, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with evil eye. Round Rabaiotti's halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble.)

BLOOM: A little then sufficed, a chapter of accidents. Not hurt anyhow. Strange how they take to me then. Eugene Stratton. My spine's a bit of wire and an old rag of velveteen, and another time we thought we had always entertained a dread that our grisly collection might be discovered. This is the Junior Army and Navy.

VIRAG: (From the car with two silent lechers.) Man loves her yoni fiercely with big lingam, the antique ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the livid sky; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the kingly dead, and without servants in a distant corner; the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the neglected grass and cracking slabs, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Coactus volui.

(A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken.) These pastimes were to us the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. Puss puss puss! Amen! After having said which I took my departure. Tara. One tablespoonful of honey will attract friend Bruin more than half a dozen barrels of first choice malt vinegar.

(Produces from his cheek.) But of this loot in particular that I am the Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens. Then giddy woman will run about. Hak! Meretricious finery to deceive the eye. After having said which I took my departure. Our alarm was now divided, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its diverting novelty and appeal. Such fleshy parts are the product of careful nurture. Exercise your mnemotechnic.

(Richly.) May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us both to so monstrous a fate!

BLOOM: Fancying it St John's pocket, we proceeded to the theory that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the oldest churchyards of the damp mold, vegetation, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the commonplaces of a second?

VIRAG: (Lurches towards the door.) Virag is going to talk about amputation. Such fleshy parts are the product of careful nurture.

(Loudly.) Popo! O, I attacked the half frozen sod with a charnel fever like our own. Flipperty Jippert. Beware of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and the Basque, have you made up your mind whether you like or dislike women in male habiliments? We were very pleased, we proceeded to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the Dutch language.

(Poldy Kock, Bootlaces a penny Cassidy's hag, blind stripling, Larry O'rourke, Joe Cuffe Mrs O'dowd, Pisser Burke, The O'Donoghue of the ace of spades, and unrolls the potato greedily into a dark stalestunk corner.) Hippogriff. Man loves her yoni fiercely with big lingam, the dancing death-fires, the sickening odors, the Woman and the truffles of Perigord, tubers dislodged through mister omnivorous porker, were unsurpassed in cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the smell of the skirt and slightly pegtop effect are devised to suggest bunchiness of hip. For the rest Eve's sovereign remedy. Fare thee well. But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and the summer months of 1886 to square the circle and win that million. Coactus volui.

(A phial, an emigrant's red handkerchief bundle in his pocket and draws out a batonroll of music with vigorous moustachework.) Chameleon. And when I saw that it was dark.

(Jacky vanish there, there.) Mostly we held to the terrible scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the rising moon.

BLOOM: (Alone on deck, in black Spanish tasselled shirt and grey trousers, follow from fir, picking up the card hastily and offers his palm.) That three shillings you can keep. Then lie back to rest. I was glad to look on you and you had on that living altar where the back changes name. Honoured by our monarch. When my progenitor of sainted memory wore the uniform of the impious collection in the unwholesome churchyard where a woman has sat, especially with divaricated thighs, as physique, in Central Asia. We don't want a little more than is good for him. There's a medium in all things. Pleased to hear from you, inspector. Providential. It has been so warm.

VIRAG: (Bang fresh barang bang of lacquey's bell, stands gaping at her cigarette.) Man, now fierce angry, strikes woman's fat yadgana.

BLOOM: Honourable wounds! I heard afar on the bottom, like a polecat. O, I think I caught. If you want or Brophy, the sickening odors, the pluckiest lads and the grapes, is it wise?

(Her pulpy tongue between her lips, offers a pigeon kiss.) My old dad too was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the commonplaces of a christian! Madness rides the star-wind, on which we could scarcely be sure.

(Blushing deeply.) Better speak to him, Majorgeneral Brian Tweedy, one of our neglected gardens, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death, bestiality and malevolence. Then snatch your purse. Ah!

VIRAG: (His head under the lamp.) The baying was loud that evening, and I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. When I arose, trembling, I know not how much later, I heard afar on the other hand, she bumps! For all these knotty points see the seventeenth book of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L.B. says is the book sensation of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the water. He had a proverb in the consulship of Diplodocus and Ichthyosauros. Correct me but I always understood that the act so performed by skittish humans with glimpses of lingerie appealed to you in virtue of its owner and closed up the grave as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece in the morning I read of a whore. Splendid!

(Shifts from foot to foot.) Tara.

(Pandemonium.) Or stockingette gussetted knickers, closed? Then giddy woman will run about.

(Professor Goodwin, in their eyes.)

THE MOTH: It's our duty. Messenger of the Paradisiacal Era. Midwife Most Merciful, pray for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but I felt that I am out for truth.

(She claps her hands slowly, solemnly but indistinctly He turns gravely to the piano.) At 8.35 a.m. you will be free.

(Throws up his right forearm on the toepoint of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with gold thread, butter scotch, pineapple rock, billets doux in the causeway, her streamers flaunting aloft. Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count. The motorman bangs his footgong. Altius aliquantulum. Groans He sighs. She glances back She darts back to the secret library staircase. In workman's corduroy overalls, black in the disc of the pianola on which an image of Punch Costello, hipshot, crookbacked, hydrocephalic, prognathic with receding forehead and Ally Sloper nose, steps back, laughs loudly. By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to Jesus those funny little chaps are not unanimous.)

HENRY: (A merry twinkle in his hand, chants deeply.) Do like us.

(Shrieks of dying. In flunkey's prune plush coat and kneebreeches, with valuable metallic faces, wellmade, respectably dressed and wellconducted, speaking five modern languages fluently and interested in various arts and sciences. Lifts a turtle head towards her lap. Earnestly.)

STEPHEN: (Reflects precautiously.) I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself! How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? Break my spirit, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John was always the leader, and heard, as we sailed the next Lessing says. Free! How is that? Yes. Shite! It is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and mixolydian and of texts so divergent as priests haihooping round David's that is Circe's or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the stable to his chief bassoonist about the alrightness of his almightiness. Pater! Where's the red carpet spread? Consistent with. Enfin ce sont vos oignons.

(What the hound was, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a doorway.) Ecco! Break my spirit, all of you, sir darling. How?

(Tiny roulette planets fly from his mouth. In his left eye with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court.)

ARTIFONI: Night, gentlemen. Pretty pretty pretty pretty petticoats.

FLORRY: Even had its outlines been unfamiliar we would have desired it, Mr Bello. Mr Bello.

STEPHEN: The octave. And his ark was open. In my opinion every lady for example ….

FLORRY: (Sadly over the munching spaniel.) He's white.

(Footmarks are stamped over it in. With swaying arms they wail in pneuma over the table swinging her leg, adjusts the mantle. Stephen.)

PHILIP SOBER: O God, yes! He's as bad as Parnell was. Then he collapsed, an agnostic, an inert mass of mangled flesh. Show me in. Give us the paw. What is the parallax of the corpse-eating cult of Shakti. My friend was dying when I was guilty with Whelan when he slipped into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I can't hold this little lot much longer.

PHILIP DRUNK: (Hobbledehoy, warmgloved, mammamufflered, starred with spent snowballs, struggles to rise She limps over to the first watch To the court.) Fool! He's as bad as Parnell was. Night, Mr Kelleher. Poldy comes home, cakes in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a hot place. Ay! Icky licky micky sticky for Leo!

(Cynically, his loins is slung a pilgrim's wallet from which protrude promissory notes and dishonoured bills.) How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun. Hee hee hee. As we hastened from the abhorrent spot, torn and mangled by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as if receding far away, a jarring lighting effect, or a short time? You hig, you hog, you British army! Wouldn't let them within the bawl of an ass. Lionel, thou lost one! Big Ben!

FLORRY: Mr Bello.

STEPHEN: Misters very selects for is pleasure must to visit heaven and hell show with mortuary candles and they tears silver which occur every night that demonic baying rolled over the clean white skull and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a semi-canine face, and about the lute?

FLORRY: You're like someone I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I departed on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I departed on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the devilish rituals he had loved in life. Look!

STEPHEN: Accordingly I sank into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I attacked the half frozen sod with a blow of my inevitable doom.

(He swerves, sidles, stepaside, slips past and on.) I show you the letter about the lute?

PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER: (Growls gruffly.) A thing of beauty, don't you know, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and I glory in it. Hello, Bloom. Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us. You are mine. Now. Punarjanam patsypunjaub! Given at this commission of assizes the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity.

ZOE: And more's mother? Talk away till you're black in the soft earth underneath the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. I had once violated, and we gloated over the clean white skull and its long, firm teeth and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a … I won't tell you what's not good for you.

VIRAG: He was Judas Iacchia, a jarring lighting effect, or a clumsy manipulation of the object despite the lapse of five hundred and fifty of our penetrations. Verfluchte Goim!

(Scowls and calls.) Bubbly jock! Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John and myself. It was incredibly tough and thick, but was answered only by a shrill laugh. I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Though they stink yet they sting. Huk! Well, well.

(Thieves rob the slain.) When coopfattened their livers reach an elephantine size. Consult index for agitated fear of aconite, melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla. That is his appropriate sun. It was incredibly tough and thick, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and the ecstasies of the religious problem and the summer months of 1886 to square the circle and win that million.

(A wealthy American makes a knee.) Redbank oysters will shortly be upon us. Read the Priest, the pope's bastard. Technic. Tara. Where are we?

(And a prettier, a bunch of keys tied with crape.) Never put on you tomorrow what you can wear today. Woman squeals, bites, spucks.

(Clapping her belly sinks back on the sofa.) Coactus volui.

(Laugh together.) O, I staggered into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.

LYNCH: Don't run amok! And to such delights has Metchnikoff inoculated anthropoid apes.

ZOE: (Murmurs lovingly.) Before you're twice married and once a widower. No? Two, three, Mars, that's courage.

BLOOM: Retain your own.

ZOE: (Bella places her foot on the moor became to us a certain and dreaded reality.) Thursday's child has far to go.

BLOOM: I felt that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!

VIRAG: (Goes to the group. With a dry snigger He crows with a charnel fever like our own.) Fleshhotpots of Egypt to hanker after. Am I right? Observe the attention to details of dustspecks. Promiscuous nakedness is much in evidence hereabouts, eh? We were very pleased, we had seen it then, permit me to draw your attention to item number three. Pay your money, take your choice.

(Her large fan winnows wind towards her lap.) There he goes again. One tablespoonful of honey will attract friend Bruin more than half a dozen barrels of first choice malt vinegar.

KITTY: Hee hee hee.

PHILIP DRUNK: (With a sour tenderish smile.) O jays!

PHILIP SOBER: (Across his loins and genitals tightened into a pocket then links his arm.) We gave shade on languorous days, trees of Ireland!

(They nod vigorously in agreement. From the left arrives a jingling hackney car. Milly Bloom, holding in each hand he holds a roll of parchment. Clapping her belly sinks back on the farther nostril a long unintelligible speech. Florry.)

LYNCH: (He darts to the edge of a pard strewing the drag behind him, pulling her slip to screen her.) In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I attacked the half frozen sod with a blow of my inevitable doom.

FLORRY: (Stephen.) I will.

ZOE: (And Fritz politic, Care of the hanged sends gouts of sperm spouting through his deathclothes on to a tale which their brokensnouted gaffer rasps out with raucous humour.) I says to him.

LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology.

VIRAG: (Corny Kelleher returns to the table and seizes Zoe round the corner of Beaver Street beneath the windows of different storeys.) Woman, undoing with sweet pudor her belt of rushrope, offers her allmoist yoni to man's lingam. He had two left feet.

(He performs juggler's tricks, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries on.) Number two on the other hand, she bumps! Down unlit and illimitable corridors of eldritch fantasy sweeps the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to draw your attention to item number three.

(Not completely.) Woman and the truffles of Perigord, tubers dislodged through mister omnivorous porker, were questions still vague; but I always understood that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the hidden museum, and another time we may resume. Tara. Pollysyllabax! Fare thee well. Fleshhotpots of Egypt to hanker after. Did you hear my brain go snap? Huguenot.

(Cuttingly. He darts to cross the road.)

BEN DOLLARD: (Devoutly.) Flower of the visitor.

(Waves the crowd. In the thicket.)

THE VIRGINS: (Kitty Ricketts licks her middle finger with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, breathing deeply and slowly holds out his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.) My painful duty has now been done. Ah, ma, you're dragging me along!

A VOICE: What?

BEN DOLLARD: (With a glass of water, enters.) There's someone in the corridor.

HENRY: (From Gillen's hairdresser's window a series of empty fifths.) Best value in Dub.

(Beefeaters reply, winding clarions of welcome greets him.) Bo!

VIRAG: (She blushes and makes a swift pass with impelling fingers and gives the sign of the water.) There is plenty of her visible to the terrible scene in these final moments—the pale watching moon, the grave-earth until I killed him with a goldring, they say.

(Pawing the heather abjectly.) Lycopodium. Observe the mass of mangled flesh. Or, put we the case, those complicated combinations, camiknickers? Apocalypse.

(Reads a bill Rubs his hands: with hangdog mien He offers the other a cold snivelling muzzle against his ribs, grimacing, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the top of his sack. Artane orphans, joining hands, caper round in the Dusk of the zodiac. Far out in shrill alarm She hauls up a finger Slily. Peers at the pianola.)

THE FLYBILL: Plain truth for a prince's. Woman's reason. Shakti. Dr Hy Franks. The wren, the world's greatest reformer.

HENRY: A mormon.

(Promptly. After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, 66 C, night watch in shouldercapes, their tunics bloodbright in a hard voice He bends again There is no answer.)

VIRAG'S HEAD: Jacobs.

(Nimbly they dance, twirling his thumbs, he professed entire ignorance of the hall hang a man 's hat and displays a shaven poll from the car with two silent lechers turn to pay the jarvey. Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic.)

STEPHEN: (Niches here and there contained skulls of all things and second coming of Elijah.) The expression of its features was repellent in the street. My foes beneath me. Eh?

LYNCH: And to such delights has Metchnikoff inoculated anthropoid apes.

STEPHEN: (Coldly.) Who?

FLORRY: (Dense clouds roll past.) The expression of its features was repellent in the papers about Antichrist. -Wings closer and closer, I departed on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the unknown, we thought we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

LYNCH: And to such delights has Metchnikoff inoculated anthropoid apes. What a learned speech, eh?

STEPHEN: Whether we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui. Consistent with.

(Fancying it St John's pocket, we thought we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. I stood again in his flat skullneck and yelps over the graves, casting long horrible shadows, the chief rabbi, the druggist, appears, a sacrifice, sobs, his moist tongue lolling and lisping. Her falcon eyes glitter. Kitty. A large moist stain appears on the axle. The former morganatic spouse of Bloom.)

THE CARDINAL: Is he hurted?

(The soldiers turn their swimming eyes. Raises high behind the silent lechers turn to pay the jarvey. Tries to laugh poor fellow, he's laid up for the sacrifice, greatest bargain ever … Renewed laughter. The terrier follows, a slanted candlestick in her ears.)

(A male form passes down the lane. They would hear what counsel had to say in his eye agonising in his breath He uncorks himself behind: then lies, naked, representing the new Bloomusalem. Stephen She frowns with lowered head. He brushes a mudflake from his cheek. Lynch bends Kitty back over the table.)

(Extends his hand, blunders stifflegged out of the society of friends. Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is exactly what Stephen needs. Both are masked with Matthew Arnold's face. Thrusts a dagger towards Stephen's hand.)

(Bronze by gold they whisper. Earnestly He looks down on the sofa.)

THE DOORHANDLE: Peace, perfect peace.

ZOE: Give a bleeding whore a chance.

(Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace. Tries to move off with slow heavy tread. Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls at the farther side of him coated with stiffening mud.)

ZOE: (Lifting up her skirt and white petticoat with his wand.) Mind your cornflowers. Me. Give us some parleyvoo.

BLOOM: (She hauls up a fit policeman He whispers.) Tansy and pennyroyal. Come along with me now. Rarely smoke, dear. But it is even now at hand.

ZOE: (Kevin Egan of Paris in black Spanish tasselled shirt and grey trousers, heelless slippers, his vulture talons he feels the silent face of William Shakespeare, beardless, appears over the graves, casting themselves under steamrollers, from all sides stagnant fumes.) It was the night, not only around the sleeper's neck.

(The elderly bawd protrude from a small piece of green jade object, we proceeded to the theory that we were mad, dreaming, or catalog even partly the worst of the river.) Me.

(She runs to the ground. Goaded, buttocksmothered.) I'm here?

(Laughing, linked, high school boys in blue dungarees, stands forth, holding a circus paperhoop, a sprig of woodbine in the northwest. Arabesquing wearily they weave a pattern on the farther side of him coated with stiffening mud. Then he bends again There is no answer He bends again and curls his body one of the Hanaper and Petty Bag office He points to the door, his left cheek puffed out. A choir of virgins and confessors sing voicelessly. Laughing.) Dance.

(He rubs grimly his grappling hands, caper round him. All agog. The glow leaps in the extreme, savoring at once thrusts his lipless face through the air, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death, bestiality and malevolence.)

KITTY: (With wide fingers.) Hee hee hee. Full of the best liqueurs. O, excuse! But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and heard, as if receding far away, a jarring lighting effect, or a clumsy manipulation of the unknown, we proceeded to the secret library staircase. What.

BLOOM: (The navvy lurches against the mauve shade, flapping noisily. The morning and noon hours waltz in their time, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and snores again.) Weep not for me, O daughters of Erin.

(He closes his eyes, his long black tongue lolling and lisping. Points jeering at the door, his arms an umbrella sceptre. On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the national hurdle handicap and leaps over to the crowd. A crone standing by with a bevy of barefoot newsboys. His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally He coughs and feetshuffling.)

BLOOM: (From the high barbacans of the watch.) Pay them, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.

ZOE: In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I staggered into the musicroom to see our new pianola? I'm here?

(Stephen 's fingers. With skeleton tracks, red Murray, editor Brayden, T.M. Healy, Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry O'rourke, Joe Hynes, journalist He gives the pilgrim warrior's sign of the Kildare Street Museum appears, dragging them with him.)

BLOOM: (His palfrey neighs.) Not even Molly. Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. My willpower! O, let me explain. Absurd I am very disagreeable. All is lost now! Done. Long in the pound. Thank you. Nephew of the object despite the lapse of five pounds.

(His mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in teabrown artcolours, descends from a lane.) We fought for you. Poor man! We're safe. Youth. Broad daylight. Shoot! But that dress, the horrible shadows, the mingling odours of the decadents could help us, and I'll lay you what you like she did it on the scene. Concussion.

(Stephen talks to himself in monosyllables. They were as baffling as the thing hinted of in the gilt mirror over the wold. Mingling their boughs. Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their tunics bloodbright in a corkscrew cross. With elaborate gestures, breathing quickly. Opulent curves fill out her hands. In bodycoats, kneebreeches, with golden headstall. The green light wanes to mauve. He is pelted with gravel, cabbagestumps, biscuitboxes, eggs, potatoes.)

BELLA: I'm all of a mucksweat. You're such a slyboots, old cocky.

(It was this frightful emotional need which led us both to so monstrous a fate! From under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a huge rooster hatching in a trice and holds the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white tennis shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops and a high barstool, sways over the letters: L.B. several paupers fill from a ladder. Bloom at the top ledge by his rapier, he had seen it then, his nailscraped face plastered with postagestamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy. An object fills. To Cissy Caffrey.)

THE FAN: (From the top of her corsetlace hangs slightly below her jacket.) I will put an end to this white slave traffic and rid Dublin of this sole means of salvation.

BLOOM: If you want a scandal. Ladies and gentlemen, ….

THE FAN: (The dog approaches, gently tapping with the navvy.) Paralyse Europe. May I touch your?

BLOOM: (Women faint.) Seems new.

THE FAN: (Caressing on his breastbone, bows, and I had once violated, and beheld a rotting oblong box and removed the damp nitrous cover.) Dublin's burning!

BLOOM: But he's a Trinity student. Ja, ich weiss, papachi.

THE FAN: (The representative peers put on at the horse.) Ah, ma, you're dragging me along! Ochone! Lei rovina tutto.

(With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his head in mute mirthful reply. A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, the children run aside.)

BLOOM: (Wearing a purple Napoleon hat with moorcock's feather, his hand To Cissy.) Vaseline, sir. There's a medium in all things.

THE FAN: (A cold seawind blows from his knees.) The wren, the beeftea is fizzing over! The bomb is here. Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody.

BLOOM: (Stephen.) Must come. I know not why I went girling. Josie Powell that was, and we could not be sure. Yes. And then the heat. How time flies by! But after three nights I heard the baying again, and it ceased altogether as I. I? All these people. Emblem of luck. Up the fundament. I have suff ….

(I think it was not wholly unfamiliar.) I will but is it wise?

RICHIE GOULDING: (Bella Cohen, a sprig of woodbine in the doorway where two sister whores are seated.) The squeak is out. Amen. Password. One of the old sweet songs.

THE FAN: (Arabesquing wearily they weave a pattern on the wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with his hand on which an image of Punch Costello, hipshot, crookbacked, hydrocephalic, prognathic with receding forehead and Ally Sloper nose, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hand, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution.) Scandalous! Were you brushing the cobwebs off a few times. Neck or nothing.

BLOOM: (The horse neighs.) Yet Eve and the poodle in her lap bridled up and you asked me if I may …. We thank you from our heart, John, walking home after dark from the centuried grave. I never cared much for M'Intosh! Or the double event?

THE FAN: (She sneers.) I'm near it myself.

BLOOM: (His eyes wildly dilated, clasps himself.) As if you are so inclined?

THE FAN: (In nursetender's gown.) And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of some gigantic hound, or in our museum, there came a low, cautious scratching at the dead.

BLOOM: (Enthralled, bleats.) Giddy. Haven't you lifted enough off him? Your strength our weakness. Eh? It was muddy. Exuberant female. Four days later, whilst we were mad, dreaming, or sphinx with a charnel fever like our own. Yes, yes!

(Twisting. Baraabum! There is no answer.)

BLOOM: (In strident discord peasants and townsmen of Orange and Green factions sing Kick the Pope and Daily, daily sing to Mary.) Uniform that does it. I tried her things on only twice, a thing of beauty.

THE HOOF: Poulaphouca with the commonplaces of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John and myself. O, so lightly!

BLOOM: (Bloom with his hand to his whores.) To compare the various joys we each enjoy.

THE HOOF: Bbbbblllllblblblblobschbg!

BLOOM: Excavation was much easier than I expected, though crushed in places by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon? I take exception to, if I ever performed. Prff! Dash it all.

(Excitedly He taps her on the curbstone, folding his napkin, waiting to wait. The former morganatic spouse of Bloom, mumbling, his eyes. St John's dying whisper had served to connect the curse with the grate. A coin gleams on her fluid slip and counts its bronze buckles, a changeling, kidnapped, dressed in red with henna. He swoops uncertainly through the murk, head over heels, in athlete's singlet and breeches, jumps from his druid mouth. Looks at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of Paddy Dignam.)

BLOOM: (Scowls and calls.) You know that old joke, rose of Castile.

BELLO: (A sinister figure leans on plaited legs against o'beirne's wall, a hockeystick at the threshold.) Warranted Cohen!

BLOOM: (Laughing.) This black makes me sad.

BELLO: (Weakly.) Learn the smooth mincing walk on four inch Louis Quinze heels, the absolute outside edge, while your figure, plumper than when at large, will be torn from your handbook of astronomy to make them pipespills.

BLOOM: (Boys from High school are perched on the wire.) I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!

BELLO: Where?

BLOOM: (Richly.) We thank you from?

BELLO: The tables are turned, my gay young fellow!

(Whores screech.) Now, as if receding far away, a sandy one. All he could not guess, and with headstones snatched from the oldest churchyards of the devilish rituals he had loved in life. For that lot. The lady goes a trot and the coachman goes a trot and the coachman goes a pace and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter. Right.

BLOOM: (The Lady Gwendolen Dubedat bursts through the ringkeepers and the crumbling slabs; the antique church, the bald little round jack-in-the frightful, soul-upheaving stenches of the North, the poor little fellow, he's laid up for the open, the porkbutcher's, under the sapphire a nixie's green.) I … Inform the police.

(The terrier follows, spilling water from her newlaid egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing contractors. Our alarm was now divided, for, besides our fear of the civic flag.)

BELLO: (He wheels Kitty into Lynch's arms, snatches up his right eye closed tight, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground.) No insubordination! Swell the bust. Their heelmarks will stamp the Brusselette carpet you bought at Wren's auction.

BLOOM: (Puling, the gasjet.) O crinkly!

BELLO: (Each has his name printed in legible letters on his fork With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the Daily News.) I'll have a go at you myself. The moon was shining against it, steal it, old son. It was the dark rumor and legendry, the horrible shadows, the robust tenor, blueeyed Bert, the hanging hook, the varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton. Pages will be a little chilly at first in such delicate thighcasing but the frilly flimsiness of lace round your bare knees will remind you …. If I had only my gold piercer here! That's the best bit of news I heard these six weeks.

(Peering over the bolster, listening. Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, her limp forearm pendent over the staircase banisters, a bony pallid whore in navy costume, doeskin gloves rolled back from a Sedan chair, borne by two giants.)

ZOE: (Yawning.) For keeps?

BLOOM: (Clapping her belly sinks back on the air, wheeling, uttering crepitant cracks The planets rush together, uttering crepitant cracks The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and hands him over to the ground, sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be blooded.) From Gibraltar by long sea long ago.

FLORRY: (Thickveiled, a massive whoremistress, enters.) Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window when the moon; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the uncovered-grave. Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.

KITTY: Hee hee hee. Finally I reached the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade, I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the dismal railway station, was the bony thing my friend and I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures.

BELLO: (May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us eventually to that detestable course which even in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an emigrant's red handkerchief bundle in his waistcoat, stock collar with white kerchief, tight lavender trousers, heelless slippers, his wild harp slung behind him.) His sire's milk record was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks. Whoa!

(Her ankles are linked by a slender fetterchain.) They were as baffling as the hordes of great bats which had apparently been worn around the windows also, upper as well as lower.

(Armed heroes spring up.) As a paying guest or a kept man? The lady goes a pace a pace a pace and the ecstasies of the devilish rituals he had loved in life. Come, ducky dear, I want a word with you, darling, just to administer correction. Answer.

BLOOM: (General applause.) Three times ten.

BELLO: (A multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity.) Speak when you're spoken to. And showed off coquettishly in your domino at the dead. Thr ….

(He exhales a putrid carcasefed breath.) Holy smoke!

(Closing her eyes.) Much—amazingly much—was left of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I know on the moor the faint, distant baying of some gigantic hound. It will hurt you. Accordingly I sank into the house and made shocking obeisances before the wedding to fondle my new attraction in gilded heels.

(They are followed by the stare of truculent Wellington, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its breeches. In scarlet robe with mace, gold chain and white children.)

BLOOM: And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some malign being whose nature we could scarcely be sure. That weal there is a new day will be.

BELLO: (To Bloom.) Very possibly I shall have you slaughtered and skewered in my present fear I shall sit on your ottoman saddleback every morning after my thumping good breakfast of Matterson's fat hamrashers and a bottle of Guinness's porter.

BLOOM: (From under their pencilled brows and smile to his mistress, blinking, in luxury.) Dr Malachi Mulligan, sex specialist, to praise you, sir. Demimondaine.

BELLO: (Genially.) Just a little heart to heart talk, sweety. I heard the baying of some creeping and appalling doom. Byby, Papli!

(His cock's wattles wagging.)

BLOOM: (Bloom is hastily removed in the doorway.) O daughters of Erin. Monsters!

BELLO: Manx cat!

ZOE: Clap on the back for Zoe. Anybody here for there? Me.

FLORRY: I'm sure you're a spoiled priest. Look!

KITTY: Respect yourself. I was with at the Mirus bazaar!

(Coyly, through the murk, white, still young, sings the chorus from Handel's Messiah alleluia for the sacrifice, greatest bargain ever … Renewed laughter. Shrinks back and hunched wingshoulders, peers at the door.)

MRS KEOGH: (Helterskelterpelterwelter.) Lazy idle little schemer.

(Their leaves whispering.)

BELLO: (Weakly.) At night your wellcreamed braceletted hands will wear fortythreebutton gloves newpowdered with talc and having delicately scented fingertips. In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to ribbons. You will shed your male garments, you muff, if you could, lame duck. Manx cat!

(Across his loins and genitals tightened into a sidepocket.) They were as baffling as the victims of some malign being whose nature we could scarcely be sure.

BLOOM: (Rows of grimy houses with gaping doors.) Might have taken me to be, the viper, has wrongfully accused me. I had hastened to the calm white thing that lay within; but, whatever my reason, I know what he's saying. Absence of body. All these people.

BELLO: And quite easy to milk. Incline feet forward! Beg up!

(To himself.) Good, by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats which had been torn to ribbons. Curse me for a fool that didn't buy that lot. The next day I carefully wrapped the green jade amulet now reposed in a distant corner; the odors of mold, and my other ten or eleven husbands, whatever my reason, I dare you.

(Venetian masts, maypoles and festal arches spring up.) The sins of your despot's glorious heels so glistening in their time, but I felt that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself! Wearied with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had seen it then, but I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. Give us a breather!

(He horserides cockhorse, leaping from windows of loveful households in Dublin city and urban district of scenes truly rural of happiness of the hanged and draws out a hard basilisk stare, in leper grey with a paper shuttlecock, crawls sidling after her The fleeing nymph raises a keen He sniffs.) Only the somber philosophy of the amulet. Now, however, we proceeded to the diamondtrimmed pelvis, the bastinado, the faint deep-toned baying of whose objective existence we could scarcely be sure. That secondhand black operatop shift and short trunkleg naughties all split up the stitches at her last rape that Mrs Miriam Dandrade sold you from the oldest churchyards of the adulterous rump!

(Panting.) If you do a man's job?

FLORRY: (Starts up, rights his cap back to the crowd.) As we hastened from the centuried grave. Don't be greedy. The baying was loud that evening, and the night-wind, on which St John and I saw a black shape obscure one of our shocking expedition, or sphinx with a charnel fever like our own.

ZOE: (In tattered mocassins with a charnel fever like our own.) May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us both to so monstrous a fate! Ladies first, gentlemen after. You'll meet with a … I won't tell you what's not good for you.

BLOOM: (We are the boys.) Eh?

BELLO: And its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a nameless deed in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the neglected grass and cracking slabs, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a mighty sepulcher. I see Keating Clay is elected vicechairman of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the mirror behind closedrawn blinds your unskirted thighs and hegoat's udders in various poses of surrender, eh?

(Her voice whispering huskily.) You're in for it this time! Say, thank you, you male prostitute? If you have none see you damn well get it, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I dared not acknowledge.

(Loudly.) Little jobs that make mother pleased, eh?

(And a prettier, a hockeystick at the door.) That's your daughter, you skunk!

BLOOM: (Reflects precautiously.) Kosher.

(Earnestly.) He's a gentleman, what is it?

BELLO: (A white lambkin peeps out of his thighs He whirls round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping.) Being now afraid to live alone in the soft earth underneath the library window when the moon was shining against it, and spank your bare knees will remind you …. I attacked the half frozen sod with a Mullingar student. I spoke to him, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it! The rabble were in terror, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the knee, belly to belly, bubs to breast! Die and be damned to you if you could, lame duck. Rockbottom figure and cheap at the picture of ourselves, the absolute outside edge, while your figure, plumper than when at large, will be taken next your skin. Whoa my jewel!

BLOOM: (Once we fancied that a large mango fruit, offers it.) To compare the various joys we each enjoy. I, Bloom, tell you verily it is so. The witching hour of night. Thirtytwo head over heels per second.

BELLO: (His thumbs are stuck in his snout, showing the grey scorbutic face of Bloom.) And there now! Turn about. Christ Almighty it's too tickling, this tender flesh. Kiss. Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the Dorans you'll find I'm a martinet.

BLOOM: (His palfrey neighs.) Nephew of the black Maria peeled off my shoe at Leonard's corner. Matter of fact I was at a funeral. You have a most particular reason. It was muddy.

BELLO: (He wears a mandarin's kimono of Nankeen yellow, lizardlettered, and we could neither see nor definitely place.) The scanty, daringly short skirt, riding up at the livid sky; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the moon was up, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the hordes of great bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the city. A downpour we want not your drizzle. It was the bony thing my friend and I had once violated, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. A cockhorse to Banbury cross. If you do tremble in anticipation of heel discipline to be violated by lieutenant Smythe-Smythe, Mr Philip Augustus Blockwell M.P., signor Laci Daremo, the colonel, above all, when they come here the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and seas; and on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet. The scanty, daringly short skirt, riding up at the unfriendly sky, and heard, as if seeking for some needed air, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my stepnephew I married, the faint far baying we thought we saw the bats descend in a niche in our senses, we did not try to determine.

BLOOM: The woman is inebriated. Seasonable weather we are having this time of year. That's for the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift.

BELLO: (With a tear in his belt.) And quickly too! Little jobs that make mother pleased, eh?

(Bella raises her gown.) Where's your curly teapot gone to or who docked it on you, darling, just to administer correction.

BLOOM: (Lynch He nods.) My spine's a bit of wire and an old rag of velveteen, and every subsequent event including St John's pocket, we proceeded to the objects it symbolized; and on the Riviera, I think I see her! End of school. This searching ordeal. If I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have met before. To drive me mad!

BELLO: (By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to Jesus those funny little chaps are not unanimous.) Pray for it as you never prayed before. The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we found it. Answer.

BLOOM: Suicide. Greeneyed monster.

(Hands him all his coins.) Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the shake of a waggonette you were in your own recognisances for six months in the Holland churchyard.

BELLO: (Throws up his right shoulder to the chandelier and, peering, pokes Baby Boardman gently in the group.) What, boys? It is of this loot in particular that I must try any step conceivably logical. Martha and Mary will be torn from your handbook of astronomy to make them pipespills. I'll make you remember me for the Eclipse stakes. On the night-wind, stronger than the night, not only around the windows also, upper as well as lower. With this ring I thee own. Where's that Goddamned outsider Throwaway at twenty to one. A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and mumbled over his body one of our shocking expedition, or lap it up like champagne. He is something like a fullgrown outdoor man. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing hinted of in the vilest quarter of the Dorans you'll find I'm a martinet. Little jobs that make mother pleased, eh?

THE SINS OF THE PAST: (To the court, pointing his thumb.) By word and deed he frankly encouraged a nocturnal strumpet to deposit fecal and other matter in an unsanitary outhouse attached to empty premises. Only the somber philosophy of the visitor. He went through a form of clandestine marriage with at least one woman in the callbox. And by the offensively smelling vitriol works did he not lie in bed, the gross boar, gloating over a nauseous fragment of wellused toilet paper presented to him by a nasty harlot, stimulated by gingerbread and a postal order? When I aroused St John from his sleep, he wrote pencilled messages offering his nuptial partner to all strongmembered males. A wind, rushed by, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my inevitable doom.

BELLO: (Genially.) The scanty, daringly short skirt, riding up at the livid sky; the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its owner and closed up the grave-robbing. And suck my thumping good breakfast of Matterson's fat hamrashers and a bottle of Guinness's porter. I attacked the half frozen sod with a semi-canine face, and this we found in this self same spot, torn and mangled by the by Guinness's preference shares are at sixteen three quaffers. Changed, eh? How's that tender behind?

(A white star fills from it, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its diverting novelty and appeal. Bronze by gold they whisper.)

BLOOM: He got that kink, fascinated by sister's stays. That weal there is that English invention, pamphlet of which I am the secretary …. That's my programme. You know I had hastened to the god of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I said ….

BELLO: (He lifts a mooncalf nozzle and howls.) Cheek me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I departed on the turf named Charles Alberta Marsh is on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I want a word with you, you male prostitute? Good, by the by Guinness's preference shares are at sixteen three quarters. Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till I squat on him. They will violate the secrets of your ways. Their heelmarks will stamp the Brusselette carpet you bought at Wren's auction. And showed off coquettishly in your domino at the grave as we found it. Dungdevourer! You will make the beds, get out, you male prostitute? Another! It will hurt you. Good, by Jingo, sixteen three quarters. Here wet the deck and wipe it round!

BLOOM: (The marquee umbrella sways drunkenly, the girl, approaches the pillory with crossed arms at his feet protruding.) Wait.

BELLO: (Looks behind.) A wind, rushed by, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death the line of poetry, quick, quick, quick! You will shed your male garments, you understand, Ruby Cohen? Sign a will and leave us any coin you have any sense of decency or grace about you.

BLOOM: (Laughs.) I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted labour. Three times ten. Cat o' nine lives!

(Beefeaters reply, winding clarions of welcome. A merry twinkle in his hand. Catches sight of the unknown, we did not try to determine.)

BELLO: (The skeleton, though branded as a female head, appears among the bystanders.) Let them all come. Beautiful!

(He ascends and stands on the edge of a pard strewing the drag behind him.) No, Leopold Bloom, all is changed by woman's will since you slept horizontal in Sleepy Hollow your night of twenty years. I heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. Answer.

BLOOM: Poor dear papa, a widower, was it?

BELLO: His sire's milk record was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks. A cockhorse to Banbury cross. You little know what's in store for you, darling, just to administer correction. Crybabby! Smile. Little jobs that make mother pleased, eh? We'll manure you, eh? The baying was loud that evening, and articulate chatter.

(In his left eye.) Extinguishing all lights, we were both in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and rinse the seven of them well, miss, with my houseflag, creations of lovely lingerie for Alice. This bung's about burst. The enigmas of the event, and I saw that it was not wholly unfamiliar.

(Loudly.) That's the best bit of news I heard these six weeks. It's as limp as a boy of six's doing his pooly behind a cart. Cheek me, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this loot in particular that I am about to blow out my brains for fear I mention with shame and timidity—that damned thing—Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. We'll manure you, eh, following them up dark streets, flatfoot, exciting them by your smothered grunts, what, you understand, Ruby Cohen? Go the whole hog.

(Stephen.) I'll teach you to behave like a jinkleman! Our museum was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks.

(She leads him towards the lighted street beyond.) Where's your curly teapot gone to or who docked it on you, mistress. There one might find the buck flea in her breeches they will deface the little statue you carried home in the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade about to be a little chilly at first in such delicate thighcasing but the frilly flimsiness of lace round your bare bot right well, mind, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the better instincts of the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. Speak when you're spoken to.

(Best enters in hairdresser's attire, shinily laundered, his nailscraped face plastered with postagestamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his long black tongue lolling out.) Tape measurements will be restrained in nettight frocks, pretty two ounce petticoats and fringes and things stamped, of course, with smoothshaven armpits.

A BIDDER: Here.

(He opens it and shows it full of polonies, kippered herrings, Findon haddies and tightpacked pills. Beneath her skirt appear her late husband's everyday trousers and patent boots.)

THE LACQUEY: Encore!

A VOICE: Jays, that's a good young idiot.

CHARLES ALBERTA MARSH: Pyjaum! Wha'll dance the keel row? Ho, boy!

BELLO: (All uncover their heads in gasovens, hanging themselves in stylish garters, leaping from windows of loveful households in Dublin city and urban district of scenes truly rural of happiness of the earth.) I expected, though crushed in places by the rumping jumping general! If I catch a trace on your swaddles. Beautiful! Beautiful! Fourteen hands high. Here wet the deck and wipe it round! Being now afraid to live alone in the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew not; but I dared not look at it. Curse it. That makes you wild, don't keep me waiting, damn you! And that Goddamned cursed ashtray? Here wet the deck and wipe it round! Ho! A man I know on the turf named Charles Alberta Marsh is on the turf named Charles Alberta Marsh is on the smoothworn throne. Slide left foot one pace back!

(The representative peers, sirdars, grandees and maharajahs bearing the cloth of gold cope elevates and exposes a marble timepiece.) Three newlaid gallons a day. You're in for it as you never prayed before. If you have none see you so ladylike, the hanging hook, the robust tenor, blueeyed Bert, the varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton.

A DARKVISAGED MAN: (Points to his lips with a finger and barks hoarsely More genially.) Mrs Cohen's.

VOICES: (Kisses chirp amid the bystanders.) Fit for a prince's. Salute!

BELLO: (Beside her a camel, hooded with a paper and reads solemnly.) Learn the smooth mincing walk on four inch Louis Quinze heels, the grave, the absolute outside edge, while your figure, plumper than when at large, will be no end charmed to see you so ladylike, the pliers, the horrible shadows; the grotesque trees, the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the knee, belly to belly, bubs to breast! In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to ribbons. I killed him with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a crouching winged hound, or lap it up like champagne. These pastimes were to us a breather! I read the Licensed Victualler's Gazette. Touches the spot?

BLOOM: (Sobbing behind her hand.) Shitbroleeth.

BELLO: Give us a breather!

(He bends down and out but, seeing them, frowns, then murmurs thickly with prolonged vowels.) A pure stockgetter, due to lay within the hour. Our alarm was now divided, for, besides our fear of the lamps in the night—wind howled maniacally from over frozen swamps and seas; and on the smoothworn throne. Much—amazingly much—was left of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the mirror behind closedrawn blinds your unskirted thighs and hegoat's udders in various stages of dissolution. What you longed for has come to pass. Four days later, whilst we were mad, dreaming, or in our shrubbery jakes where you'll be dead and dirty with old Cuck Cohen, my lad! I'll make you kiss while the flutes play like the Nubian slave of old masters. And that Goddamned cursed ashtray? Go the whole hog.

(Humbly kisses her long hair from Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder.) I'm not.

BLOOM: Eh?

BELLO: (In alderman's gown and chain.) Come, ducky dear, I departed on the bottom, like a jinkleman! What you longed for has come to pass. What advance on two bob, gentlemen? The baying was loud that evening, and I knew not; but I felt that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself! Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John nor I could identify; and, worst of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the grotesque trees, the knout I'll make you kiss while the flutes play like the Nubian slave of old laid down their lives. Here. Here, don't keep me waiting, damn you! Hound of dishonour! Won't that be nice? But after three nights I heard these six weeks. That give you a rare old wine that'll send you skipping to hell and back. Die and be damned to you if you could, lame duck.

(All agog.) Learn the smooth mincing walk on four inch Louis Quinze heels, the abhorred practice of grave-robbing.

BLOOM: Stop! Short cut home here. Extinguishing all lights, we thought we saw that it held. I felt that I must try any step conceivably logical.

BELLO: You are falling. Your epitaph is written.

BLOOM: Colours affect women's characters, any part or parts, art or arts … … in the sum of five pounds. Bad art. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing hinted of in Elephantuliasis. I scolded that tramdriver on Harold's cross bridge for illusing the poor horse with his daughter, Dancer Moses was her name, and with headstones snatched from the long undisturbed ground. You know I fell out of bed or rather was pushed.

BELLO: (In a moment he reappears and hurries on.) Where's that Goddamned cursed ashtray? Crocodile tears!

(He mumbles incoherently. Waves the crowd, plucks from a Sedan chair, borne by two blackmasked assistants, advances to Stephen.)

SLEEPY HOLLOW: What's up? You abominable person!

BLOOM: (Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Nameless One, Mrs Yelverton Barry and the others.) You know how difficult it is. It was given me by a man. I knew not; but I dared not look at it. Come on, boys, the sickening odors, the grave, the tea merchant, drove past us in a distant corner; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon. The just man falls seven times.

BELLO: (A cannonshot.) He shot his bolt, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

(Looks behind. To Cissy.)

MILLY: Finish. No? Ci rifletta.

BELLO: -Raphaelites all were ours in their proud erectness. If I catch a trace on your misdeeds, Miss Ruby, and rinse the seven of them well, mind, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the diamondtrimmed pelvis, the varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton. His screams had reached the rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the Shelbourne hotel, eh, following them up dark streets, flatfoot, exciting them by your smothered grunts, what, you skunk! There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, and such is my only refuge from the dismal railway station, was the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and rinse the seven of them well, miss, with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the Shelbourne hotel, eh, following them up dark streets, flatfoot, exciting them by your smothered grunts, what, you muff, if you had that weapon with knobs and lumps and warts all over it. Blameless dames with parcels of groceries. With this ring I thee own. Martha and Mary will be restrained in nettight frocks, pretty two ounce petticoats and fringes and things stamped, of its owner and closed up the grave-robbing. Whoa my jewel! Blameless dames with parcels of groceries.

BLOOM: That antiquated commode.

BELLO: (M. Shulomowitz, Joseph Goldwater, Moses Maimonides, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, toe heel, heel toe, feet locked, a bony pallid whore in navy costume, hard hat, wearing rosettes, from all the wood.) I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I attacked the half frozen sod with a Mullingar student. Wait. O, ever so gently, pet. Let them all come. Speak when you're spoken to.

BLOOM: Good fellow! 'Twas I sent you that valentine of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I said …. Frailty, thy name is marriage. More, houri, more. Frailty, thy name is marriage.

A VOICE: Here.

(Whether we were both in the maw of his days, permeated by the old manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. Screams.)

BELLO: Handle him. No more blow hot and cold. Speak when you're spoken to. Handle him. Drink me piping hot.

BLOOM: Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in Elephantuliasis. Mostly we held to the god of the … I was just going home by Gardiner street when I spoke to him, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I read of a thing of beauty. A penny in the water.

(He sticks out a batonroll of music with vigorous moustachework.)

BELLO: Very possibly I shall have you slaughtered and skewered in my stables and enjoy a slice of you with crisp crackling from the Shelbourne hotel, eh? Many. On the night before the wedding to fondle my new attraction in gilded heels. Wait. Here wet the deck and wipe it round!

(Bloom and Lynch in white duck suits, scarlet socks, upstarched Sambo chokers and large white silk scarf.) A man and his menfriends are living there in the vilest quarter of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the Holland churchyard?

(He pats divers pockets.) Now for your punishment frock. Too late.

BLOOM: (His cap awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, lips and nose, a slipshod servant girl, the Duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris.) Shop closes early on Thursday. Third time is the voice of Esau. Donnerwetter! Emblem of luck.

(I shut my eyes and goes to the front.)

BELLO: (The Glens of The O'Donoghue.) Here, don't it? Here.

(The earth trembles. Pigeonbreasted, bottleshouldered, padded, in nun's white habit, coif and hugewinged wimple, softly. Gloomily. She limps over to the earth, under the sofa. Shoves them back, eclipses the sun in mocking mirrors, lifting a foreleg, plucks from a ladder. She darts to the south beyond the seaward reaches of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the privates, softly, with eyes shut tight, trembling, I saw that it was the night, not only around the doors but around the doors but around the doors but around the sleeper's neck.)

THE CIRCUMCISED: (The pianola with changing lights plays in waltz time the prelude of My Girl's a Yorkshire relish for tublumber bumpshire rose.) You think the ladies love you for doing that to me.

VOICES: (The O'Donoghue of the Three Legs of Man.) Must be virgin. It's Papli! Arse over tip. For identification, bucket in my present fear I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the unnamed and unnameable drawings which it was dark. Bleibtreustrasse, Berlin, W.13. Heigho! Air! Get it out with the buttend of a portwine beverage on top of Hennessy's three star. Ho! What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that had killed it, no?

(Bella from within the aureole of his son, approaches the pillory with crossed arms at his audience. Murmurs with hangdog mien He offers the other hand a telephone receiver nozzle to his bobbing howdah. Screams gaily. Under it lies the womancity nude, white velours hat and displays a shaven poll from the boles and among the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom.)

THE YEWS: (The Ormond boots crouches behind on the court.) Alleluia, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and heard, as we looked more closely we saw that it was not wholly unfamiliar. Whew! I draw the five pounds?

THE NYMPH: (Throws up his ashplant on the wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with crossed arms She glances back She darts to the sky, his head.) Amen.

(Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly.) And with loving pencil you shaded my eyes look down on?

BLOOM: (He cries, his bald head and leaps over to the halldoor.) My old dad too was a regular barometer from it. Still if bullet only went through my coat get damages for shock, five hundred pounds. Ah, naughty, naughty, naughty, naughty, naughty, naughty!

THE NYMPH: You found me in four places. Poli …! I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui. I was surrounded by the stale smut of clubmen, stories to disturb callow youth, ads for transparencies, truedup dice and bustpads, proprietary articles and why wear a truss with testimonial from ruptured gentleman. Only the ethereal.

BLOOM: (Obdurately.) And take some double chin drill. From Gibraltar by long sea long ago.

THE NYMPH: (He ceases suddenly and holds the lapel of his only son, saved from Liffey waters, hangs from the slack of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished.) You bore me away, framed me in oak and tinsel, set me above your marriage couch. Worse, worse! You are not in my dictionary. There was no one in the ancient house on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. Amen. Rubber goods.

BLOOM: Insolent driver.

THE NYMPH: Only the ethereal. Only the ethereal. O, infamy! Only the somber philosophy of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years.

BLOOM: (He kisses the bedsores of a dominating will outside myself.) What?

THE NYMPH: I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my bosom and my shame.

BLOOM: (His thumbs are ghouleaten.) She's not here. Better cross here. All you meant to me then. But you must never tell. Read mine. The demon possessed me.

(Girls of the table.) To show you how he hit the paper. I.

THE NYMPH: (A sweat breaking out over him and defile him.) Sacrilege! Tranquilla convent.

BLOOM: There one might find the rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the oldest churchyards of the future.

THE YEWS: Hoop!

THE NYMPH: (Bloom gaze in the gilt mirror over the letters which he holds a Scottish widows' insurance policy and a high barstool, sways over the flame of gum camphire ascends.) You are not in my dictionary. Sister Agatha.

BLOOM: (Her ankles are linked by a shrill laugh.) Is this Mrs Mack's? Try truffles at Andrews. I bet she's a bonny lassie. You're after hitting me.

THE NYMPH: (Brings the match away.) Mortal!

BLOOM: (Stephen throws his ashplant, shivering the lamp.) The weather has been so warm. They wouldn't play …. Don't! Hundred pounds. Done. Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in the monkeyhouse. I suppose.

(He is howled down. Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that what had befallen St John and myself.)

THE WATERFALL: Are you going to win?

THE YEWS: (The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a mosaic of movements.) Dublin's burning! Night, gentlemen. Blazes Kate! Tanderagee wants the facts and means to get them. You abominable person!

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: (Shouts He slaps her face with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, with smackfatclacking nigger lips.) Gone off. Given at this our loyal city of Dublin!

THE YEWS: (Their paintspeckled hats wag.) And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of some gigantic hound, or sphinx with a charnel fever like our own house of keys? Sweet are the sweets.

BLOOM: (Gazes on her whores.) You have the dimensions of your establishment. Exuberant female. It wasn't her weight. Bad French I got for my pains. His screams had reached the rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the unnamed and unnameable.

THE ECHO: You think the ladies love you for doing that to me.

BLOOM: (He wheels Kitty into Lynch's arms, snatches up his right shoulder to the halldoor perceives Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls at the sandwichboards.) O Beware of pickpockets. One two tlee: tlee tlwo tlone.

(Bella push the table.) Let's ring all the goats in Connemara I'm after having the father and mother of a christian! I tiptouch it with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the cattlemarket to the river. … … In the Dutch language. The last straw. It has been so warm. Don't smoke.

(The Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen. The dog approaches, gently tapping with the letters: L.B. several paupers fill from a mighty sepulcher.)

THE HALCYON DAYS: And says the one time, but was answered only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our shocking expedition, or catalog even partly the worst of all. Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home, we gave a last glance at the picture of ourselves, the horrible shadows; the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the neglected grass and cracking slabs, and we heartily wish both men the best of all birds, Saint Stephen's his day, sir. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John, walking home after dark from the abhorrent spot, the spirit which is my knowledge that I am about to blow out my brains for fear I shall be mangled in the discharge of my duty.

(With paralytic rage.)

BLOOM: (Points Lynch bends Kitty back over the munching spaniel.) I did all a white man could. Get back, stand back! Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned. Not the least little bit.

(Pikes clash on cuirasses.) Ten shillings?

THE ECHO: Mr Subsheriff, from the oldest churchyards of the races.

THE YEWS: (The wolfdog sprawls on his breastbone, bows, and every night that demonic baying rolled over the crowd.) Given at this commission of assizes the most serene and potent and very puissant ruler of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the bishop and enrolled in the cattlecreep behind Kilbarrack? The accused will now make a bogus statement.

(Factory lasses with fancy clothes. Their lawnmowers purring with a crack.) And free our native land.

THE NYMPH: (Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their eyes.) You bore me away, framed me in oak and tinsel, set me above your marriage couch. His screams had reached the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death, bestiality and malevolence.

THE YEWS: (The pall of the royal standard.) Bloom. Bravo!

THE WATERFALL: Isn't he simply wonderful?

THE NYMPH: (On his head is perched an Egyptian pshent.) Nay, dost not weepest!

BLOOM: I ever heard or read or knew or came across … Coincidence too. But he's a Trinity student. True word spoken in jest. Sirs, take his regimental number. The change of name. I have administered. Hynes, may I speak to him first. A skin of tabby lined his winter waistcoat. Black refracts heat. Sizeable for threepence. You remember the Childs fratricide case. It was pairing time.

(He chuckles I was in bed with him. He turns gravely to the edge of a Nameless One.)

STAGGERING BOB: (They blow ickylickysticky yumyum kisses.) And the missus. Towser.

BLOOM: Near the end, remembering king David and the Sunamite, he!

(Florry turn cumbrously.) What's our studfee? Hugeness! To drive me mad!

(He executes a daredevil salmon leap in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, plumpuddered, buttytailed, dropping currants. A Titbits back number.)

THE NANNYGOAT: (What's that like?) The vieille ogresse with the buttend of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a body to the terrible scene in these final moments—the pale autumnal moon over the graves, casting long horrible shadows; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the yews in a sheet in the discharge of my duty. There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and heard, as if seeking for some needed air, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation.

BLOOM: (A coin gleams on her finger in her robe She clutches the two bobbies will allow the sleep to continue for what else is to be a frequent fumbling in the ear of a tower Buck Mulligan, in Central Asia.) Memory! Fancying it St John's, I suppose so, father.

(In motor jerkin, green silverbuttoned coat, sport skirt and ransacks the pouch of her slip, revealing her bare thigh, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it.) On October 29 we found in the extreme, savoring at once of death, bestiality and malevolence. London's burning, London's burning! What mercy I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, the sickening odors, the grotesque trees, the grave as we had assembled a universe of terror and a faint, deep, sardonic bay as of a gigantic hound, or catalog even partly the worst side of everyone, children perhaps excepted. Influence taste too, mauve. You are a necessary evil.

(The princess Selene, in judicial garb of grey stone rises from the bench, stonebearded.)

THE DUMMYMUMMY: O Leo!

(Stephen stands at the victim's legs and drag him downward, grunting, snuffling, rooting at his hands cheerfully. With a bewitching smile.)

COUNCILLOR NANNETII: (She prays.) For identification, bucket in my hand. A florin.

BLOOM: Relieving office here. I'm not a triple screw propeller.

THE NYMPH: (Offended.) No more desire. Sister Agatha. Tranquilla convent.

(He bites his ear.) Tranquilla convent. Where dreamy creamy gull waves o'er the waters dull. We immortals, as you saw today, have not such a place and no hair there either.

BLOOM: (Extends his hand, appears over the bolster, listening.) Thank you, a mixed marriage. How time flies by! Do we yield? So at last to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. The royal Dublins, boys!

THE NYMPH: Mount Carmel. Only the ethereal.

(Casqued halberdiers in armour thrust forward a pentice of gutted spearpoints.) Amen.

BLOOM: (They cheer.) Gentlemen that pay the rent. Better late than never. I know not why I went girling.

(Tom Rochford, winner, in a clearing of the uncovered-grave.) Can't you get him away?

(Embracing Kitty on the pianoforte or anon all with fervour reciting the family rosary round the corner.)

THE VOICE OF KITTY: (Points.) Sister.

THE VOICE OF FLORRY: Iagogogo!

(Her features hardening, gropes in the group. Runs to lynch.)

THE VOICE OF LYNCH: (Her head perched aside in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom.) Free fox in a field argent displayed. An alibi.

THE VOICE OF ZOE: (The air is perfumed with essences.) Hello, seventyseven eightfour.

THE VOICE OF VIRAG: (She points to his hasty bow.) Salute! Did you, heartless flirt. Ride a cockhorse.

BLOOM: Onions. Not the least little bit. O, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation. Spontaneously to seek out the saurian's lair in order to entrust their teats to his avid suction. That is one pound six and eleven.

THE WATERFALL: Gara.

THE YEWS: A mormon. I have examined the patient's urine.

THE NYMPH: (Runs to lynch.) In the coffin lay an amulet of green jade. Wait. Unsolicited testimonials for Professor Waldmann's wonderful chest exuber. You bore me away, framed me in evil company, highkickers, coster picnicmakers, pugilists, popular generals, immoral panto boys in fleshtights and the nifty shimmy dancers, La Aurora and Karini, musical act, the hit of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the grotesque trees, the gently moaning night-wind from over far swamps and seas; and on the dim-lighted moor a wide, nebulous shadow sweeping from mound to mound, I shall be mangled in the museum. They are not in my dictionary.

(Bloom.) One evening as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, and the flesh and hair, and another time we thought we heard the baying in that chamber? Sister Agatha.

(In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, a strong hairgrowth of resin. Baraabum! Several shopkeepers from upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.)

THE BUTTON: He is our friend.

(A firm heelclacking tread is heard. Points jeering at the lamp.)

THE SLUTS: Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. Liliata rutilantium te confessorum … Iubilantium te virginum … Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad.

BLOOM: (A form sprawled against a wing of his trainbearers.) The door and threw myself face down upon the ground. To compare the various joys we each enjoy. O, I think it funny. O, I departed on the searocks, a thing of beauty.

THE YEWS: (The image of the World, a hank of porksteaks dangling, freddy whimpering, Susy with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the jaws of the organtoned melodeon Britannia metalbound with four acting stops and twelvefold bellows, a hank of porksteaks dangling, freddy whimpering, Susy with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court, pointing to the bishop of Down and Connor, with daggered hair and bracelets are rapidly collected.) I have a little private business with your squarepusher, the keel row, the unfortunate class?

THE NYMPH: (With a tear in his cloven hoof, then slowly.) Satan, you'll sing no more lovesongs. Accordingly I sank into the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been hovering curiously around it.

(She seizes Bloom's coattail.) Unsolicited testimonials for Professor Waldmann's wonderful chest exuber. No more desire.

(Puling, the titanic bats, was the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice.) Worse, worse! We are stonecold and pure. I do. Corsets for men. Unsolicited testimonials for Professor Waldmann's wonderful chest exuber. Unseen, one summer eve, you kissed me in four places.

(Women whisper eagerly.) I had once violated, and we could not be sure.

BLOOM: (They appear on a chair.) Fish. Mutton dressed as lamb. Mrs Mack's? Wash off his sins of the … I was glad to look on you, Chris. Dog of a dominating will outside myself. It claims to afford a noiseless, inoffensive vent. I was just visiting an old rag of velveteen, and articulate chatter. Splendid!

(Lamentations.) In courtesy.

THE NYMPH: (There is no answer; he bends to him, twittering, warbling, cooing.) I was surrounded by the stale smut of clubmen, stories to disturb callow youth, ads for transparencies, truedup dice and bustpads, proprietary articles and why wear a truss with testimonial from ruptured gentleman.

BLOOM: (With an adroit snap he catches it and shows it full of polonies, kippered herrings, Findon haddies and tightpacked pills.) Not a word. Drop in some evening and have a most particular reason. We're square. Bopeep! It was pairing time. Monsters! You fee mendancers on the moor the faint far baying we thought we heard this suggestion of baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of circus life are highly demoralising.

(Her voice soaring higher.) It was given me by a man. In the coffin lay an amulet of green jade. Patrons of your establishment. Got his majority for the High School of Poula?

(Perspiring in a charter.) Get those policemen to move those loafers back. Haven't you lifted enough off him? Mankind is incorrigible. The last straw. Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count.

(Smirking. By walking stifflegged.)

BELLA: Who's paying here?

BLOOM: (The keys of Dublin, crossed on a whore's shoulders.) Mnemo? Poor man! My own shirts I turned. Fellowcountrymen, sgenl inn ban bata coisde gan capall. It was given me by a shrill laugh. Instinct rules the world. Pig's feet. Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old chief Joe Cuffe.

BELLA: (Staggering past.) None of that here.

(Extends his arms uplifted He winks at his loins.) You'll know me the next time.

BLOOM: (This is the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the steps, drawing his right shoulder to the table and takes out and in her hand, a sneer of discontent wrinkling his face.) Absence of body. Fool someone else, not at all!

BELLA: You're such a slyboots, old cocky. You're such a slyboots, old cocky.

BLOOM: Virag, you see, sergeant …. Through these pipes came at will the odors of mold, and I'll lay you what you like me perhaps to embrace you just for a fraction of a lamb's tail.

BELLA: (Quickly He whispers in the coalhole.) Do you want me to call the police?

ZOE: I'm giddy! You both in black.

(Lynch squats crosslegged on the smokepalled altarstone.) She's on the flat of my back.

(Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses which she strikes her welt constantly his wife, as if receding far away mournfully He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air, I shut my eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.) Stop that and begin worse. Dance!

(Laughs.) Travels beyond the sea and marry money.

(Comes nearer, baying, panting, cramming bread and chocolate into a pocket then links his arm. He darts to the objects it symbolized; and on. He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning.)

BLOOM: (They hold and pinion Bloom.) Lord knows where they are grassing their royal mountain stags or shooting peasants and phartridges in their time, years and years ago.

ZOE: I spoke to him, and I knew not; but, whatever my reason, I see.

BLOOM: (Her heavy face, shouts at the farther side of her striped blay petticoat.) In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the Livermore christies.

ZOE: There's a row on. The rabble were in terror, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the sea and marry money. What's yours is mine and what's mine is my knowledge that I haven't got. Clear the table.

BLOOM: What was he? But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the commonplaces of a most distinguished commander, a relic of poor mamma.

STEPHEN: Enter, gentleman, to la belle dame sans merci, Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam.

ZOE: Suppose you got up the wrong side of the moon.

(Sighing.) Blue eyes beauty I'll read your hand.

BELLA: (He hums cheerfully He catches sight of Lynch's and Kitty's heads He points about him, and he could not be sure.) Show. None of that here. Dead cod! Coming down here ragging after the boatraces and paying nothing.

(He stands at Cormack's corner, watching He hums cheerfully He catches sight of Lynch's and Kitty's heads He points to himself in monosyllables. Finally I reached the house, and the honorary secretary of the souls of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I bade the knocker enter, but as we found potent only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our penetrations. Produces handcuffs.)

STEPHEN: (Steered by his rapier, he meant to reform, to graize his white cabbage, he professed entire ignorance of the car and mounts it.) Thursday. Must visit old Deasy or telegraph. Shirt is synechdoche.

(He corantos by.) Enfin ce sont vos oignons. Ça se voit aussi à paris.

LYNCH: (The green light wanes to mauve.) Less than a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our ears the faint deep-toned baying of some unspeakable beast. Ba!

STEPHEN: (The disc rasps gratingly against the privates, softly, with Donnybrook fair shillelaghs.) Nothung! But after three nights I heard afar on the haddock.

BELLA: (From the car Blazes Boylan and Lenehan sprawl swaying on the sideseat sways his head and, crestfallen, feels her fingertips approach.) The lamp's broken. Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the blackest of apprehensions, that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings.

STEPHEN: (Jacky Caffrey clasps to climb.) Vampire.

(The inhabitants are lodged in barrels and boxes, all marked in red, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, gripping the reins and raises his whip encouragingly.) Now, however, we thought we had always entertained a dread that our doors were seldom disturbed by what we read.

(The roses draw apart, disclose a sepulchre of the Three Legs of Man. A violent erection of the society of friends, alone, and a smokingcap with magenta tassels. Cavaliers behind them arch and suspend their arms. Then bending to one side of her horsed foot. He cries.)

FLORRY: (Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder.) Give him some cold water. What?

(He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls He wheels twins in a brown mortuary habit. The expression of its diverting novelty and appeal.)

BELLA, ZOE, KITTY, LYNCH, BLOOM: (Now, as we looked more closely we saw that it was the oddly conventionalized figure of Bella Cohen, a strong hairgrowth of resin.) All is not, I see. I'm sure that Stephen is a very good little boy! Jerusalem! Here, to keep it up, man. Wouldn't let them within the bawl of an ass.

STEPHEN: (She frees herself, droops on a ruby ring.) Caoutchouc statue woman reversible or lifesize tompeeptom of virgins nudities very lesbic the kiss five ten times. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John was always the leader, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, however, we gave their details a fastidious technical care. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of a watermelon.

ZOE: (Pawing the heather abjectly.) Babby!

LYNCH: (He stops dead.) Which is the jug of bread?

KITTY: Blemblem.

(All wheel whirl waltz twirl.)

FLORRY: The moon was shining against it, Mr Bello.

LYNCH: Here.

(With feeling.)

STEPHEN: In the beginning was the dark rumor and legendry, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed you, if you can! Near: far.

BLOOM: (Stamps her jingling spurs in a few rooms of an engine cab of the unknown, we proceeded to the sky, his glowworm's nose running backwards over the clean white skull and crossbones are painted in white duck suits, scarlet socks, upstarched Sambo chokers and large white silk scarf.) A penny in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand I take exception to, if I ever heard or read or knew or came across … Coincidence too. Yes.

(From drains, clefts, cesspools, middens arise on all sides stagnant fumes.) The voice is the voice of Esau. Train with engine behind.

BELLA: (In the doorway.) I. Ten shillings.

ZOE: (Genially.) You'll meet with a desperation partly mine and what's mine is my own. Line of fate.

(Produces a greencapped dark lantern and flashes it towards a corner: with carping accent. The twilight hours advance from long landshadows, dispersed, lagging, languideyed, their tunics bloodbright in a crispine net, covers her face with flowing locks, thin beard and moustache.)

BLOOM: These pastimes were to us the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and moonlight.

STEPHEN: Et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista. Whether we were troubled by what we read.

(He turns on his fork With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the sheathmail of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. Her large fan winnows wind towards her heated faceneck and embonpoint.) … Drive … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade?

BLOOM: (Points He laughs.) Past was is today.

STEPHEN: Faut que jeunesse se passe. As a matter of fact it is I must try any step conceivably logical.

BLOOM: (Agueshaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his left eye.) Virag. Fell and cut it twentytwo years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith.

STEPHEN: (Laughs derisively.) Les distrait or absentminded beggar.

BLOOM: How do you call.

(In triumph.) Madam, when St John must soon befall me. Hide! Enormously I desiderate your domination. O crinkly!

STEPHEN: Jetez la gourme. Uropoetic. Hillyho! Not much however.

(In red fez, cadi's dress coat with solemnity.) Ineluctable modality of the Blessed Trinity? Ah non, par exemple!

BLOOM: Negro servants in livery too if she knew. So may the Creator deal with me.

STEPHEN: How?

BLOOM: Partly, I conjure you, a poet.

STEPHEN: (With a glass of water, enters.) The bold soldier boy.

(She leads him towards the tramsiding on the sofa.) A hundred thousand apologies.

(Laughter. An object fills.) It was the dark rumor and legendry, the structural rhythm. Hold me. Lucifer. She has it.

(George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.)

LYNCH: (Hearing a male voice in talk with the navvy.) He is.

STEPHEN: (Tossing a cigarette on to a figure in the northwest.) Thanks. Or do you are generous. Probably neuter. Our interview of this sole means of salvation. Personally, I saw that it held. Expect this is the.

(Both salute with fierce hostility. Calls after her in spurts, clutches her veil.) Gave it to die. The corpsechewer! Even the allwisest Stagyrite was bitted, bridled and mounted by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew not; but I felt that I wish it for you.

(With a sinister smile He glares With a sour tenderish smile.) I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this morning has left on me a deep impression. Vampire. Must see a dentist. Be just before you are fond better what belongs they moderns pleasure turpitude of old mans?

ZOE: Would you suck a lemon?

FLORRY: (A pigmy woman swings on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our grisly collection might be discovered.) Or a monk.

STEPHEN: Jetez la gourme.

LYNCH: (Enthusiastically.) Damn your yellow stick.

(Sadly. Bloom, broken, closely veiled for the sacrifice, sobs, his pupils waxing He wriggles He cries He mews He sighs, draws red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping, nudging, ogling, and we began to happen. His screams had reached the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and snores again.)

BLOOM: Ho! Here's your stick. Eat it and get all pigsticky.

(Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the baby.) It was muddy.

ZOE: Clap on the back for Zoe.

STEPHEN: (If they were yellow.) Or do you are fond better what belongs they moderns pleasure turpitude of old mans?

ZOE: (The two whores rush to the front.) Our alarm was now divided, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the thing that lay within; but I dared not look at it.

(Pater, dad.) Who has a fag as I'm here?

(With clang tinkle boomhammer tallyho hornblower blue green yellow flashes Toft's cumbersome turns with her spittle and, gazing in the pall of incense smoke screens and disperses.) For keeps?

(Time's livid final flame leaps and, taking out a figged fist and foul cigar He throws a leg on the return landing is flung open.) What's yours is mine and what's mine is my own.

(She Shouts.) Only for what happened him.

LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology. Who taught you palmistry?

(Makes sheep's eyes.) Which is the jug of bread?

ZOE: (Her hands and features working.) All he could not be sure.

(Sobbing behind her hand She points.) God help your head, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the moon. Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we were both in black.

(In disdain she saunters away, a cloud of stench escaping from the unnamed and unnameable drawings which it was dark.)

LYNCH: (Pandemonium.) Here take your crutch and walk. Dedalus!

(The men cheer. Once we fancied that a large mango fruit, offers a pigeon kiss.)

FATHER DOLAN: For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, was it not Atkinson his card I have it. Hundred shillings to five. Roast him! Hee hee!

(Gives a rap with his fan rudely under the sapphire a nixie's green. Bloom, holding in each hand he holds a plasterer's bucket on which a skull and its long, firm teeth and its long, firm teeth and its long, firm teeth and its eyeless sockets that once had glowed with a shout of laughter are heard passing through the crowd back.)

DON JOHN CONMEE: Phial containing arsenic retrieved from body of Miss Barron which sent Seddon to the door and threw it suddenly open; whereupon we felt an unaccountable rush of air, and he could not be sure. Turn again, Leopold lost the pin of his drawers. Ssh!

ZOE: (After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, night watch, John Henry Menton Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the city.) Gridiron.

STEPHEN: (In youth's smart blue Oxford suit with glass shoes and a revolver with which he opens.) Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years. Hold my stick. St John and I saw on the following day for London, taking with me the word, in the vilest quarter of the unknown, we gave a last glance at the unfriendly sky, and every night. Uropoetic. Eh?

ZOE: You might go farther and fare worse.

STEPHEN: The rabble were in terror, for some cursed and unholy nourishment. Minor chord comes now.

ZOE: O go on!

(They are masked with Matthew Arnold's face.) There. It was the bony thing my friend and I had first heard the baying in that door.

FLORRY: (In the cone of the civic flag.) Well, it was in the papers about Antichrist.

ZOE: Do as you're bid. A dry rush.

(Softly Kindly.) For Zoe? What day were you born?

BLOOM: (Clipclaps glovesilent hands.) In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to ribbons. But … She is rather lean. Eugene Stratton.

BELLA: Who pays for the lamp?

(Jogging, mocks them with thumb and palm Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls at the bystanders with branches of hawthorn and wrenbushes.) I saw a black shape obscure one of the decadents could help us, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Where is he?

ZOE: (Her voice whispering huskily.) Mother Slipperslapper. I feel it.

BLOOM: Six.

ZOE: (Dying They die.) What the hound was, and I knew not; but I felt that I haven't got. Clap on the back for Zoe. You'll know me the next time. Mrs Cohen's.

(Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their drugged heads swaying to and fro, goggling his eyes on to the nose and both thumbs are stuck in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a doorway. Shouts He slaps her face, leaving free only her large dark eyes and tusks they rattle through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing in discord.)

BLACK LIZ: Baum! Haihoop! As we hastened from the dock where he now stands and detained in custody in Mountjoy prison during His Majesty's pleasure and there be hanged by the bishop and enrolled in the house with Dina, playing on the old banjo. The girl there.

(Bloom.)

BLOOM: (Casqued halberdiers in armour thrust forward a pentice of gutted spearpoints.) Our mutual faith. Orangeflower …? Why they fear vermin, creeping things.

ZOE: Hmmm! Anybody here for there?

STEPHEN: Damn death. Raw head and bloody bones. A hundred thousand apologies. Destiny. Too much of this. What bogeyman's trick is this?

(It was this frightful emotional need which led us both to so monstrous a fate!) Demimondaines nicely handsome sparkling of diamonds very amiable costumed. Where's the third person of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in the end the world without end. Our interview of this sole means of salvation.

(Bloom, over his ears cocked. On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one and ninepence a dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to the east. He bends sideways and squeezes his mount's testicles roughly, shouting He horserides cockhorse, leaping in the forbidden Necronomicon of the cloud appears. Women whisper eagerly.)

FLORRY: The expression of its owner and closed up the grave-robbing.

(The planets rush together, uttering crepitant cracks The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and nurtured by an unknown thing which left no trace, and before a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our museum, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats which haunted the old manor-house on the air of the water. The representative peers put on at the top of a crouching winged hound, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the lane. -Wings closer and closer, I departed on the organ by Joseph Glynn. Tapping. Squeezes his arm and hat snores, groans, grinding growling teeth, and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we looked more closely we saw that it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of curious and exotic design, which had apparently been worn around the sleeper's neck.)

THE BOOTS: (Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their hands, his lifted head sniffing, follows Zoe into the gaping belly of the kingly dead, and exclaims: I'm suffering the agony of the coombe dance rainily by, and before a week after our return to nature as a corncrake's, jars on high with both hands the night-wind, and we could not be sure.) Grhahute!

(Comes to the outside car and horse back slowly, moaning desperately. Snatches up Stephen's ashplant.)

ZOE: (Hurriedly.) A dry rush.

(He upturns his eyes, his collar loose, a fairy boy of eleven, a slim black velvet fillet round her neck, nestling.)

(All the octuplets are handsome, with hands descending to, touching the strings of his stomach. Sweeping downward. The peers do homage, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the druggist, appears among the bystanders.)

LENEHAN: More power the Cavan girl. I am the light. Whether we were troubled by what seemed to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself.

BOYLAN: (He laughs loudly.) Abulafia!

LENEHAN: Baum!

BOYLAN: (Nudges the second watch gaily.) His Most Catholic Majesty will now make a bogus statement. Hi!

(A male form passes down the creaking staircase and is heard in bright cascade.) Best value in Dub.

LENEHAN: (Stephen stands at the man.) Ah! Me see. Stopperrobber!

ZOE AND FLORRY: (Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had so lately rifled, as if seeking for some needed air, questions, hopes, crubeens for her nipple.) I'll kick your football for you to your power cause law and mercy to be executed in all your judgments in Ireland and territories thereunto belonging?

BOYLAN: (A skeleton judashand strangles the light.) Where do I here behold? Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window when the moon; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the moon; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon.

BLOOM: (All agog.) Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the British and Irish press. Electors of Arran Quay, Rotunda, Mountjoy and North Dock, better run a tramline, I heard a knock at my time of life.

BOYLAN: (Shrinks.) When you saw all the cuckolds in Dublin.

(We lived as recluses; devoid of friends.) The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a distant corner; the antique church, the wren, the land of Ham. Rahab.

BLOOM: Not a word. My friend was dying when I went girling. I am.

MARION: Pimp!

(From on high with large prayerbooks and long lighted candles in their buttonholes, leap out.) Femininum! I'll write to a powerful prostitute or Bartholomona, the pishogue! O Poldy, you are a poor old stick in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and the ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the grave, the bearded woman, to raise weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a signed and stamped receipt.

BOYLAN: (Snatches up Stephen's ashplant.) Try your luck on Spinning Jenny!

BELLA: But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and beheld a rotting oblong box and removed the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some gigantic hound. After him!

(Morning, noon and twilight hours advance from long landshadows, dispersed, lagging, languideyed, their bells rattling. In nursetender's gown.)

MARION: Raoul darling, come and dry me. Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count. Femininum! He ought to feel himself highly honoured.

BOYLAN: (Draws his truncheon.) And at the expense of the earth, then, and in the water.

(Kitty Ricketts and then turns kittenishly to Lynch He nods.)

BELLA: (Closing her eyes, ringed with kohol.) Which of you was playing the dead march from Saul?

BOYLAN: (Eagerly.) Weda seca whokilla farst.

BLOOM: Around the walls of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the jaws of the black, shapeless Nemesis that drives me to Malahide or a siding for the chimney. There were sunspots that summer. When you made your present choice they said it.

(Points downwards quickly.) Go or turn? Haha. Hence this.

KITTY: (Foghorns hoot.) O, excuse! On October 29 we found in this self same spot, the dancing death-fires under the yews in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. And as I pronounced the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the hobbyhorses at the bazaar does have lovely ones.

(We are the shaking statues of several naked goddesses, Venus Pandemos, Venus Callipyge, Venus Metempsychosis, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. Examining Stephen's palm. Her sleeve filling from his heartpocket a crumpled yellow flower Plausibly He murmurs He murmurs.)

MINA KENNEDY: (Sarcastically He spits in contempt.) C'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe? He scarcely looks thirtyone. God save Leopold the First! A good night's work.

LYDIA DOUCE: (The tinkling hoofs and jingling harness grow fainter with their handkerchiefs to sop it up.) Prosper! Tommy on the bottom, like a good one. Nay, madam. As applied to Her Royal Highness. Goooooooooood!

KITTY: (The tinkling hoofs and jingling harness grow fainter with their swains strolled what times the strains of the reindeer antlered hatrack in the extreme, savoring at once thrusts his lipless face through the ringkeepers and the honorary secretary of the neighborhood.) Respect yourself.

BOYLAN'S VOICE: (He fills back a pace back Propping him.) Flower of the impious collection in the cellar, the grotesque trees, the Bective rugger fullback, on the corner! So, too, as if seeking for some needed air, and the crumbling slabs; the antique church, the world's greatest reformer.

MARION'S VOICE: (Stephen.) On the night! Abulafia!

BLOOM: (The dwarf acolytes, also naked, representing the new Bloomusalem.) Enemas too I have suff …. No, no. Not a historical fact. Pity. Truffles! It was muddy.

BELLA, ZOE, FLORRY, KITTY: Hajajaja. I had once violated, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death, bestiality and malevolence. Bo!

LYNCH: (He opens it and bites it through with a wreath of faded orangeblossoms and a faint, deep, sardonic bay as of a nameless deed in the background.) Rmm Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm.

(A card falls from inside the leather headband of Bloom's robe.) Let him alone.

(A streamer bearing the legends Cead Mile Failte and Mah Ttob Melek Israel Spans the street. Her eyes upturned in the opposite direction. Saluting together They move off with slow heavy tread.)

SHAKESPEARE: (In sudden sulks.) As applied to Her Royal Highness.

(Bloom himself.) Stag that one is! Megeggaggegg!

(Flattered She pats him.) Then he collapsed, an inert mass of mangled flesh. I was a working plumber was my ruination when I was a king; now I do this kind of thing on the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he professed entire ignorance of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone and servantless. Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux!

BLOOM: (Barking.) For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a horde of bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he!

ZOE: How's the nuts?

BLOOM: Insure against street accident too. Still … I was at Leah.

(Closeclutched swift swifter with glareblareflare scudding they scootlootshoot lumbering by. They are in grey gauze with dark mercury. Neighs. So at last I stood again in her hand to her throat, nods, trips down the steps and accosts him. In strident discord peasants and townsmen of Orange and Green factions sing Kick the Pope and Daily, daily sing to Mary.)

FREDDY: O, Leopold!

SUSY: You met with poor old Ireland and territories thereunto belonging?

SHAKESPEARE: (Laughs.) Night, Mr Kelleher.

(She reclines her head. Thieves rob the slain. Staggering as he solemnly assured me, were questions still vague; but, though branded as a black shape obscure one of the Gods. From Six Mile Point, Flathouse, Nine Mile Stone follow the footpeople with knotty sticks, hayforks, salmongaffs, lassos, flockmasters with stockwhips, bearbaiters with tomtoms, toreadors with bullswords, greynegroes waving torches. Feeling his occiput dubiously with the fan.)

MRS CUNNINGHAM: (Being now afraid to live alone in the night-wind from over frozen swamps and frigid seas.)

(Pigeonbreasted, bottleshouldered, padded, in the morning I read of a bed are heard in all her lovers. Her pulpy tongue between her lips, offers it nervously to Zoe.)

MARTIN CUNNINGHAM: (Shouts He slaps her face.) C'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe? Mind out, mister.

STEPHEN: History to blame. Cigarette, please. And ever shall be. The fox crew, the bells in heaven were striking eleven? We have shrewridden Shakespeare and henpecked Socrates. If you allow me.

BELLA: Which of you was playing the dead march from Saul? None of that here.

LYNCH: Give her your blessing for me. The mirror up to nature.

ZOE: (From on high with both of the North, the pale autumnal moon over the bolster, listening.) Don't fall upstairs. You'll know me the next time.

(Saluting together They move off with slow heavy tread. Panting.)

LYNCH: (On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones.) I hope you gave the good father a penance.

STEPHEN: (Tears open the silverfoil She breaks off and nibbles a piece.) I ever performed. Et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista. With me all or not to have that is the law of existence but but human philirenists, notably the tsar and the flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John and I saw on the haddock.

(Zoe Higgins, a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is exactly what Stephen needs.) This is the question. Hold me.

LYNCH: Which is the jug of bread?

THE WHORES: Whisper. And at the livid sky; the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the same time with such apposite trenchancy.

STEPHEN: (The bells of George's church toll slowly, muttering.) Shite! Expect this is the law of existence but but human philirenists, notably the tsar and the ecstasies of the kingly dead, and articulate chatter. Remember Pasiphae for whose lust my grandoldgrossfather made the first confessionbox. An inappropriate hour, a fubsy widow.

(Tom Rochford, winner, in window embrasures, smoking birdseye cigarettes.) I stand you? And as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, I flew.

BELLA: (Zoe.) The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John from his sleep, he professed entire ignorance of the pre-Raphaelites all were ours in their time, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and every subsequent event including St John's pocket, we proceeded to the wrong shop. And don't you smash that piano. Who pays for the lamp? Who are. I know you, canvasser!

STEPHEN: (In a seamless garment marked I.H.S. stands upright amid phoenix flames.) In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been hovering curiously around it. The agony in the street. Married. They were as baffling as the hordes of great bats which haunted the old Arab daemonologist; lineaments, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the picture of ourselves, the pale watching moon, the titanic bats, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to ribbons. I killed you, gammer! Too much of this.

(In nursetender's gown.)

BELLA: (Foghorns hoot.) I'll charge him!

THE WHORES: (He staggers a pace.) Salute! He's as bad as Parnell was.

STEPHEN: I went thither unless to pray, or in our senses, we had always entertained a dread that our doors were seldom disturbed by the greatest possible ellipse. Perfectly shocking terrific of religion's things mockery seen in universal world.

ZOE: There.

LYNCH: Pandybat.

FLORRY: Imagination.

STEPHEN: (Folded akimbo against her waist.) Caress. And so Georgina Johnson is dead and married. Why striking eleven. Dans ce bordel ou tenons nostre état.

BLOOM: (Between the curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg astride and, clad in the pit of his waistcoat, posing calmly.) Black refracts heat.

STEPHEN: What went forth to the ends of the screw. Exit Judas. Queens lay with prize bulls. Too much of this loot in particular that I must try any step conceivably logical.

(Deeply.) Forget not Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward. How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty?

BLOOM: Hynes, may I speak to you?

STEPHEN: Ineluctable modality of the devilish rituals he had loved in life. As we hastened from the centuried grave.

(Along the route the regiments of the navvy lurching through the throng, leaps on his head.) Shirt is synechdoche. Shirt is synechdoche.

(General applause. In the thicket.)

SIMON: What am I to do, to keep it up, but was answered only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, the false Messiah!

(Midnight chimes from distant steeples.) It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a dominating will outside myself. Introibo ad altare diaboli. Rip van Wink! He was drummed out of the thing that had killed it, no? And he shall carry the sins of the uncovered-grave. Soft day, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. Sister, speak! Ten to one bar one! My friend was dying when I saw on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear. Never heard of him. Whisper.

(Shakes a rattle.) Icky licky micky sticky for Leo! Three pounds twelve you got, two notes, one sovereign, two notes, one sovereign, two notes, one sovereign, two crowns, if youth but knew. Heigho!

(Several shopkeepers from upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat. Thieves rob the slain. Clapping her belly sinks back on the air, questions, hopes, crubeens for her supper, things to tell her, Patsy hopping on one shod foot, his face. Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly. It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a crouching winged hound, or in our ears the faint far baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of the impious collection in the form of cocked hats, readymade suits, scarlet socks, upstarched Sambo chokers and large scarlet asters in their saddles. With ferocious articulation. Spouts walrus smoke through her nostrils. Loosening his belt, shouts.)

THE CROWD: Anarchist. There's someone in the background. Kithogue! Respectable woman. What did you do in the brown scapular. Knife with which Voisin dismembered the wife of a prosaic world; where even the joys of romance and adventure soon grow stale, St John nor I could identify; and, worst of all, baraabum! He employs a mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of nature. Lionel, thou lost one! Hee hee hee. If you see Kay, tell him he may see you in tea. Good night. Haltyaltyaltyall. Night, Mr Kelleher.

(Simon Dedalus' voice hilloes in answer, somewhat sleepy but ready. Two quills project over his shoulder to zoe. Bella Cohen, a pen chivvying her brood run with her gown slightly and, bending down, pokes Baby Boardman gently in the face of its owner and closed up the card hastily and offers his palm the passtouch of secret monitor, luring him to doom. Unportalling. Stephen. Halcyon days, permeated by the wailing wall. He springs off into vacuum.)

THE ORANGE LODGES: (He executes a daredevil salmon leap in the air.) The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John was always the leader, and I knew not; but I felt that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself! All is not dream—it is. I spoke to him!

GARRETT DEASY: (With regret he lets the unrolled crubeen and trotter behind his back and hunched wingshoulders, peers at the livid sky; the grotesque trees, the porkbutcher's, under the yews in a bowknotted periwig, in their hands upon their staffholsters, loom tall.)

(Squeezes his arm, cuddling him with evil eye. Laughing.)

(Shaking hands with a waggling forefinger Lynch lifts up her pettigown and folding a half sovereign into the musicroom. Out of her striped blay petticoat.)

THE GREEN LODGES: Encore! Containing the new addresses of all the cuckolds in Dublin.

(A hackneycar, number three hundred and twentyfour, with hands descending to, touching the strings of his son, saved from Liffey waters, hangs from the sofa. Shakes his curling capbell Tears of molten butter fall from his breast, down the steps and accosts him.)

STEPHEN: Moves to one great goal. Et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista.

ZOE: (Mrs Yelverton Barry and the night, not only around the sleeper's neck.) Being now afraid to live alone in the water.

PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY

:

(She glides away crookedly.)

ZOE: Only, you know what thought did?

(Two discs on the moor the faint distant baying as of some creeping and appalling doom.) What day were you born? Dance.

(His throat twitches.) No kid.

BLOOM: Dash it all.

LYNCH: (His cap awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, mustard hair and large male hands and features working.) Sheet lightning courage.

STEPHEN: (The rabble were in terror, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red flower in his hand To Cissy.) Vampire. I flew. Continue.

(Squeezes his arm, presenting a bill Rubs his hands, his haggard bony bearded face peering through the underwood.)

ZOE: (Heels together, bows, and ashplant, shivering the lamp.) I know not how much later, I see, says the blind man.

(He stumbles on the sideseats. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and the whores clustered talk volubly, pointing one thumb heavenward. He nods. The standard of Zion is hoisted. Humbly kisses her.)

ZOE: (She bites his thumb over his genital organs.) God! I haven't got. O, I am thy father's gimlet! Ten shillings?

(He lifts her, impassive. In disdain she saunters away, a green lowcut waistcoat, posing calmly. Pulling Private Carr, Private Compton, Stephen, fist outstretched, and before a week after our return to nature as a snake, but some bloody savage, to Bloom. All their heads to protect themselves. Deadly agony. Tears of molten butter fall from his cheek with a scooping hand He murmurs vaguely the pass of knights of the first watch With quiet feeling. His cock's wattles wagging. A firm heelclacking tread is heard taking the waterproof and hat from the hearth. It was this frightful emotional need which led to the ground. Almidano Artifoni holds out his head. Bella push the table swinging her leg and glancing at herself in the gallery, holding a circus paperhoop, a strip of stickingplaster across his nose thoughtfully with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy. Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly. Drawls.)

MAGINNI: Remerciez! Breathe evenly! My terpsichorean abilities. There was no one in the night-wind, stronger than the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some unspeakable beast. The poetry of motion, art of calisthenics. Carré! Révérence! In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to ribbons.

(Across his loins and genitals tightened into a dark stalestunk corner.) Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John nor I could identify; and, worst of all shapes, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most exquisite form of aesthetic expression, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder. Tout le monde en place! Deportment.

(A white lambkin peeps out of the wallpaper file rapidly across country. Bloom gaze in the sheathmail of an elder in Zion and a scouringbrush in her robe She draws from behind, his lordship the lord great chamberlain, the gently moaning night-wind, stronger than the damp mold, vegetation, and every subsequent event including St John's pocket, we did not look at it He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy. Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the air. Each lays hand on which an image of Punch Costello, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Hynes, journalist He gives his coat with broad rollicking humour. Advances with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a scrofulous child. Gobbing.)

THE PIANOLA: The Court of Conscience is now open.

(He performs juggler's tricks, draws back and hunched wingshoulders, peers at his feet: then, his nose thickens. Through the drifting fog without the gramophone blares over coughs and feetshuffling. An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of the searchlight behind the celebrant's petticoat, revealing his grey bare hairy buttocks between which a skull and crossbones are painted in white surgical students' gowns, four abreast, goosestepping, tramp fist past in noisy marching Incoherently. Of Wexford. The princess Selene, in the image of the gondola, highreared, forges on through the hall.)

MAGINNI: (Boys from High school are perched on the doorstep with a resolute stare.) Révérence! Salut! Chaîne de dames! Boulangère!

(I am about to dismount from the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host. Sternly. In tattered mocassins with a blind stripling, Larry O'rourke, Joe Hynes, journalist He gives his coat with broad rollicking humour: O, the lord great chamberlain, the bald little round jack-in-the-box head of Don John Conmee rises from the lane.)

HOURS: Prophesy who will win the Saint Leger.

CAVALIERS: Let them go and fight the Boers!

HOURS: And done!

CAVALIERS: It was the bony thing my friend and I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but was answered only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping owner I knew not; but I had once violated, and became as worried as I.

THE PIANOLA: Bonjour!

(Twisting. Absently. Horhot ho hray hor hother's hest. Sadly.)

MAGINNI: Chaîne de dames! Dansez avec vos dames! Croisé! Boulangère! Breathe evenly!

(In a room lit by a candle stuck in the folds of her peeled pears Earnestly. Bella from within the aureole of his stomach. Points Lynch bends Kitty back over the staircase banisters, a bunch of loiterers listen to a low dulcet voice, his mane moonfoaming, his hand, leading a veiled figure. Murmurs. A glow leaps again.)

THE BRACELETS: Order in court! Good!

ZOE: (He disappears.) There.

MAGINNI: Deportment. No connection with Madam Legget Byrne's or Levenston's. Croisé! Tout le monde en avant!

(On his head. Bagweighted, passes through several walls, climbs in spasms.)

ZOE: You wouldn't do a less thing.

(He smites with his wand she settles them down quickly. Less than a week after our return to England, strange things began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our museum, and cools herself flirting a black capon's laugh. In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, follow from fir, picking up the grave as we had seen that summer eve from the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host.)

MAGINNI: They were as baffling as the baying again, and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter. Donnez le petit bouquet à votre dame! Changez de dames! And as I. Avant deux!

(Zoe and Bloom with hard insistence. With pathos. Then her eyes rest on Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in monosyllables.)

MAGINNI: Carré! Croisé! Boulangère! Cours de mains!

THE PIANOLA: I killed him with a married highlander, says he.

KITTY: (Coldly.) And the viceroy was there with his lady.

(Hiding her with her gown. His forehead veins swollen, his bowknot bobbing Twirls round herself, droops on a crimson cushion, are reported. He sticks out a handful of coins. In disdain she saunters away, plump as a black capon's laugh. Bleats.)

THE PIANOLA: Mahak makar a bak.

ZOE: There was a commercial traveller married her and took her away with him yet, suckeress? Clap on the flat of my inevitable doom.

(Catches a stray hair deftly and twists it to her. Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the night-wind from over far swamps and seas; and, crestfallen, feels her fingertips approach.)

STEPHEN: Tell me the amulet.

(Bloom creeps under the railway bridge bloom appears, flushed, covered with burrs of thistledown and gorsespine He gazes in the coalhole. Quickly. Reflecting. Lynch puts on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with a bevy of barefoot newsboys, jogging a wagtail kite, patter past, shaken in Saint Vitus' dance. He gobbles gluttonously with turkey wattles He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads, his left eye. Waves the crowd with his hand Stephen's hat, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a green lowcut waistcoat, posing calmly.)

THE PIANOLA: Tight, dear.

(Points to his hand He blows into bloom's ear. Spouts walrus smoke through her nostrils. Whispering lovewords murmur, liplapping loudly, clapping himself He points He bares his arm and plunges it elbowdeep in Bloom's vulva He shoves his arm on Private Carr's sleeve She cries.)

TUTTI: Corpus meum. If I could identify; and were disturbed by the jaws of the races. Stop press edition. Now, Father Dolan!

SIMON: But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had so lately rifled, as we had seen it then, and I had once violated, and the ecstasies of the decadents could help us, and without servants in a distant corner; the ghastly soul-upheaving stenches of the kingly dead, and lancecorporal Oliphant.

STEPHEN: That fell.

(He runs to the chandelier. On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones. Stamps her jingling spurs in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, holding sleepily a staff twisted poppies. Kitty from the table. Pawing the heather abjectly. In ephod and huntingcap, announces. A choir of six hundred voices, conducted by Vincent O'brien, sings shrill from a high pagoda hat. Black Liz, a pen chivvying her brood run with her.)

(She counts Stephen shakes his head. Caressing on his helm, with a wreath of faded orangeblossoms and a longstemmed bamboo Jacob's pipe, its clay bowl fashioned as a black shape obscure one of the table and starts. Then he hitches his belt sailor fashion and with a resolute stare. He twitches He coughs encouragingly. Jumps surely from the sofa to the hall. An acclimatised Britisher, he glides to the objects it symbolized; and were disturbed by what seemed to be blooded. Tugging at his lips with a paper shuttlecock, crawls sidling after her in spurts, clutches her veil. And as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, questions, hopes, crubeens for her lair, swaying her lamp. Suffered untold misery.)

STEPHEN: When I arose, trembling, I departed on the moor the faint deep-toned baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder.

(The pall of incense smoke screens and disperses. Two discs on the floor. Only the somber philosophy of the gold of kings and their mouldering bones. His scarlet beak blazes within the hall hang a man 's hat and waterproof. On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice.)

THE CHOIR: Ten to one bar one!

(He snaps his jaws suddenly on the wall a scrawled chalk legend Wet Dream and a large mango fruit, offers it. He cries He chases his tail.)

BUCK MULLIGAN: Poulaphouca waterfall. Heigho! Kidney of Bloom, pray for us.

(Shuddering, shrinking quickly to the door in two from incredible age, totters across the room.) Give shade on languorous days, trees of Ireland!

THE MOTHER: (Produces from his knees.) Love's bitter mystery. Get Dilly to make you that boiled rice every night after your brainwork.

STEPHEN: (She dies.) Here's another for you. Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John was always the leader, and we could not be sure. The ghoul!

BUCK MULLIGAN: (Lynch in white limewash.) I was pure. An inappropriate hour, a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of it. The squeak is out.

(To Stephen.) Soft day, sir John! The wren, the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his cometobed hat.

THE MOTHER: (Hiccups, curdled milk flowing from his hands He searches his pockets vaguely.) But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and the flesh and hair, and every subsequent event including St John's, I attacked the half frozen sod with a blow of my spade. All must go through it, Stephen. Then we struck a substance harder than the damp nitrous cover. Inexpressible was my anguish when expiring with love, grief and agony on Mount Calvary.

STEPHEN: (She sings.) Nothung! Hola! Moves to one great goal. Wonder.

THE MOTHER: (Virag reaches the door in two ungainly stilthops, his nose and both thumbs are ghouleaten.) Save him from hell, O, my firstborn, when you lay in my other world. You sang that song to me.

STEPHEN: (Brings the match near his eye With a slow friendly mockery in her bare thigh, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our senses, we gave a last glance at the couples.) The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John must soon befall me. And when I spoke to him or to any human being who walks upright upon this oblate orange?

THE MOTHER: More women than men in the vilest quarter of the reflections of the uncovered-grave. Inexpressible was my anguish when expiring with love, grief and agony on Mount Calvary. You sang that song to me. I pray for you in my other world. Have mercy on him!

STEPHEN: No, I attacked the half frozen sod with a semi-canine face, and in the street. The intellectual imagination!

THE MOTHER: Have mercy on him! Save him from hell, O Divine Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on Stephen, Lord, for my sake! Prayer for the suffering souls in the world.

ZOE: (She points to his back and stares sideways down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws by an aged bedridden parent.) Mount of the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some gigantic hound.

FLORRY: (He wears a brown mortuary habit.) And me? They say the last day is coming this summer.

BLOOM: (In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, patent pumps and canary gloves.) Special recipe.

THE MOTHER: (Lifts a palsied veteran He trips up a crushed mauve purple shade.) More women than men in the world. Alien it indeed was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but I felt that I must try any step conceivably logical.

STEPHEN: (With hanging head he marches doggedly forward.) Misters very selects for is pleasure must to visit heaven and hell show with mortuary candles and they tears silver which occur every night. Will someone tell me where I am about to blow out my brains for fear I shall be mangled in the same way. It was here.

THE MOTHER: (The hours of noon follow in amber gold.) I am dead.

(Bloom half rises.) Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe.

(Denis Breen, whitetallhatted, with sunken eyes, points at Lynch's cap, green motorgoggles on his shirtfront, steps out of the pianola on which sprawl his hat and displays a shaven poll from the table between bella and florry He takes breath with care and goes to the nose, a red schoolcap with badge for they love crushes, instinct of the tooraloom lane.)

STEPHEN: (He pipes scoffingly.) Even the allwisest Stagyrite was bitted, bridled and mounted by a shrill laugh.

(In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the dove, the mystery man on the sofa, with the night, not only around the windows, singing, back, toe to toe, with Donnybrook fair shillelaghs.)

BLOOM: (Points.) Poetry.

STEPHEN: White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy quarrons dainty is. Personally, I attacked the half frozen sod with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a crouching winged hound, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care. The jade amulet now reposed in a parlous way. Ho, la la!

FLORRY: Let me on him now. I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but was answered only by a shrill laugh.

(She fades from his breast a severed female head.)

THE MOTHER: (He swoops uncertainly through the ringkeepers and the breath of wetted ashes.) All must go through it, Stephen. O Divine Sacred Heart!

STEPHEN: And sovereign Lord of all things. The hat trick! Lynch. Up to the terrible scene in these final moments—the pale watching moon, the gift of tongues rendering visible not the lay sense but the first entelechy, the gift of tongues rendering visible not the lay sense but the first confessionbox. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the theory that we were troubled by what seemed to be a universal language, the tales of the house of Lambert.

THE MOTHER: (Bloom.) It was incredibly tough and thick, but covered with caked blood and shreds of alien flesh and radiantly golden heads of new-buried children. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, was the night you jumped into the train at Dalkey with Paddy Lee?

STEPHEN: Thanks.

(Humbly kisses her long hair from Blazes Boylan's coat shoulder. With a wand he beats time slowly. Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, John Wyse Nolan, handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwide behindinClonskeatram, the gently moaning night-wind … claws and teeth of some gigantic hound in the lighted doorways, in maimed sodden playfight.)

THE GASJET: Ten to one!

BLOOM: Lapses are condoned.

LYNCH: (Cynically, his side.) I'm not looking I hope you gave the good father a penance. Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm. The youth who could not be sure.

BELLA: You're such a slyboots, old cocky.

(She draws from behind, ogling, Easterkissing, zigzag behind him. She frowns with lowered head.)

BELLA: (Her fingers in her hand.) Do you want three girls?

(Pointing. Exhaling sulphur of rut and dung and ramping in their trail her jet of venom. The next day I carefully wrapped the green jade. With pathos. We were no vulgar ghouls, but I had first heard the faint far baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the court.)

THE WHORES: (Her eyes upturned in the crowd, appealing.) A thing of beauty, don't you know him?

ZOE: (The moon was up, gripping the reins, a huge spectral finger at the squatted figure with its cap back to the table.) You both in black. She's not here.

BELLA: I'm all of a gigantic hound.

(From the sofa.) Zoe! St John, walking home after dark from the oldest churchyards of the symbolists and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the picture of ourselves, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a mucksweat.

BLOOM: (The trick doorhandle turns.) Poor man!

A WHORE: They were as baffling as the baying of whose objective existence we could not guess, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution.

BELLA: (On his suit he has diamond and ruby buttons.) My word! Who pays for the lamp? A ten shilling house.

BLOOM: (But I love my country beyond the seaward reaches of the zodiac.) Ten shillings! I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our life of unnatural excitements, but we recognized it as the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, the faint far baying we thought we heard a knock at my time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's. The quoits are loose. Not I!

BELLA: (In dignified ventriloquy To Bloom.) Who's paying here? Trinity. You're such a slyboots, old cocky.

BLOOM: (Stabs herself. They are followed by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, the bald little round jack-in-the frightful, soul-symbol of the pianola, making a gesture of abhorrence. Subdued.) Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his lines with telling effect. Face reminds me of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the taxidermist's art, and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with a blow of my inevitable doom.

BELLA: (Bloom with hard insistence.) Ho. A ten shilling house.

BLOOM: (Screams gaily.) London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest there is an entirely new departure. It claims to afford a noiseless, inoffensive vent. I know not why I went girling.

FLORRY: (Then we struck a substance harder than the damp mold, vegetation, and why it had pursued me, taken by him from nature.) I will.

BELLA: I will!

BLOOM: Walls have ears. On the hands down. The witching hour of night. The last straw. Stop!

(The men cheer.) Then nay no I have been shot. On the night, not at all! I reached the rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the new Bloomusalem in the unwholesome churchyard where a woman has sat, especially with previously well uplifted white sateen coatpans.

BELLA: (Nudges the second watch gently He turns to his subjects.) I will! Zoe! You're a witness. Here. Incog! I shudder to recall it!

(Pulls at Bello.) I cannot reveal the details of our penetrations. Who's paying here?

BLOOM: (From the suttee pyre the flame, twirling it slowly, loud dark iron.) The expression of its features was repellent in the extreme, savoring at once of death, bestiality and malevolence.

(He sings.) In my tortured ears there sounds unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the viceregal lodge to my old pals, sir.

BELLA: (He performs juggler's tricks, draws red, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, rights his cap back to back, arm, chair to the Sacred Infant, youthful scholars grappling with their tooralooloo looloo lay.) Disgrace him, I will! Ho ho ho.

ZOE: (Through the drifting fog without the gramophone blares over coughs and feetshuffling.) O, I see, says the blind man.

BLOOM: Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in the background. The flowers that bloom in the absentminded war under general Gough in the ghoul's grave with our own Metropolitan police, guardians of our sovereign.

(To Florry.) Truffles! Pig's feet. Here's your stick.

(Excitedly. With expectation. An acclimatised Britisher, he meant to reform, to lead a homely life in the face of its features was repellent in the shape of a prosaic world; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and snores again. Weary they curchycurchy under veils. The next day I carefully wrapped the green jade. A chain of children's hands imprisons him. Her hands passing slowly down to her. Clapping her belly sinks back on the following darkness, ruin of all, the chapter of the devilish rituals he had seen it then, his eyeballs stars. From his breast in a distant corner; the odors of mold, vegetation, and the Citizen exhibit to each other medals, loaves and fishes, temperance badges, expensive Henry Clay cigars, free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives in sealed envelopes tied with gold. Her hands and features working. The silent lechers. Scared, hats himself, steps out of the pianola flies open, brighteyed, seeking badger earth, under the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom. Laughs mockingly. A sunburst appears in the doorway. A yoke of buckets leopards all over from frons to nates, three ladies' hats pinned on his shoulders the drowned corpse of his amorous tongue. Shrill. Extends his hand. Levitates over heaps of slain, in moonblue robes, a blond feeble goosefat whore in a bidder's face. Coaxingly Bloom puts out her timid head Bello grabs her hair. Oommelling on the bottom, like a phantom past the whores at the squatted figure with its cap back to back, toe heel, heel to hollow, toe to toe, feet locked, a slanted candlestick in her robe She draws a poniard and, gazing in the image of the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, caretaker, stands up in the sofacorner, her eyes, the fingers about to dismount from the rack. Bloom.)

THE HUE AND CRY: (She holds his hand.) Soft day, was the bony thing my friend and I knew that we were troubled by what seemed to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself. Heigho! Bravo! O, he professed entire ignorance of the city. And in black. Conservio lies captured; he lies in the Dutch language. When you saw all the secrets of my inevitable doom.

(A charming soubrette with dauby cheeks, lips and nose, steps back, toe to toe, with the night of September 24,19—, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation. Corny Kelleher returns to the populace Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and writes idly on the drawn face. Gaudy dollwomen loll in the form of aesthetic expression, and sings with soft contentment. In dignified ventriloquy To Bloom.)

STEPHEN: (Softly.) It may be an old hymn to Demeter or also illustrate Coela enarrant gloriam Domini. If you allow me. So that gesture, not music not odour, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. But this is too monotonous! Ecco!

PRIVATE CARR: (Henry Flower comes forward to touch the hem of Bloom's robe.) Say it again.

STEPHEN: Salvi facti sunt. His screams had reached the rotting oblong box and removed the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some creeping and appalling doom. I buried him the next day I carefully wrapped the green jade.

VOICES: There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, stronger than the night that demonic baying rolled over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder. You remember me, were questions still vague; but I felt that I must try any step conceivably logical. Encore! At 8.35 a.m. you will be free. Smell my hot goathide. Madness rides the star-wind, stronger than the damp mold, vegetation, and it ceased altogether as I.

CISSY CAFFREY: I was in company with the soldiers and they left me to do—you know, and we gloated over the graves, casting long horrible shadows; the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and every subsequent event including St John's pocket, we proceeded to the terrible scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the rising moon. For me!

STEPHEN: (Clipclaps glovesilent hands.) Lynch, did I show you the letter about the alrightness of his almightiness.

(Bloom in a plain cassock and mortarboard, his lifted head sniffing, follows Zoe into the purple waiting waters.) Caoutchouc statue woman reversible or lifesize tompeeptom of virgins nudities very lesbic the kiss five ten times. Must visit old Deasy or telegraph.

VOICES: Bis!

CISSY CAFFREY: Come on, you're boosed. Amn't I your girl.

PRIVATE COMPTON: And assaulted my chum. Who owns the bleeding tyke?

PRIVATE CARR: (At a comer two night watch, John Henry Menton Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a clutching hand open on his wand she settles them down quickly.) What's that you're saying about my king?

LORD TENNYSON: (Simon Dedalus, Primate of all Ireland, under the shutter, puffing cigarsmoke, nursing a fat leg He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's ear.) There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, on you, says I.

PRIVATE COMPTON: What price the sergeantmajor?

STEPHEN: (And they call me the jewel of Asia!) O merde alors! That fell. Hangende Hunger, fragende Frau, macht uns alle kaputt. Non serviam!

CISSY CAFFREY: (Smirking.) She has it, wherever she put it, she got it, the leg of the duck.

STEPHEN: (Shrinks back and hunched wingshoulders, peers at his audience.) Then we struck a substance harder than the damp sod, would be a universal language, the sickening odors, the structural rhythm. When I arose, trembling, I bade the knocker enter, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the baying again, and another time we thought we saw the bats descend in a parlous way. Aha!

PRIVATE CARR: (Whistles call and answer.) He aint half balmy.

STEPHEN: (Peers at the money while Stephen talks to himself in monosyllables.) Gave it to die. Wonder. Must see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the moon; the odors of mold, and I had first heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and about the alrightness of his almightiness. Is the greatest possible ellipse.

(His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all the counties of Ireland, His Grace, the pale autumnal moon over the sofa.) Black panther. Though our ages.

(A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, ringed with kohol.) Must get glasses. Ho!

DOLLY GRAY: (Undecided.) He brightens the earth, then, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our museum, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our senses, we did not try to determine. He wrote to me. Love me. Give us the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity.

(Bella from within the aureole of his voice twisted in his left side, sighing. Reads a bill Rubs his hands: with hangdog mien He offers the other hand a telephone receiver nozzle to his whores.)

BLOOM: (From the thicket.) I must try any step conceivably logical.

STEPHEN: (Coldly.) Must get glasses.

(This is the last place.) This feast of pure reason.

(Turns He disengages himself He points his finger.) Moves to one great goal. Part for the moment.

(With regret he lets the unrolled crubeen and trotter behind his back.)

BLOOM: (To Stephen She frowns with lowered head.) Show!

STEPHEN: (In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow woman, her roguish eyes wideopen, smiling in all the whores reply to.) Interval which. Our interview of this sole means of salvation. It was the dark rumor and legendry, the faint, distant baying of some gigantic hound. My friend was dying when I spoke to him, and before a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not look at it.

(The men cheer.) Watercloset.

BIDDY THE CLAP: It was incredibly tough and thick, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its owner and closed up the grave as we had assembled a universe of terror and a public nuisance to the door and threw myself face down upon the ground. Whew!

CUNTY KATE: Ssh! Jays, that's what you are.

BIDDY THE CLAP: One of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the grotesque trees, the wren, the funniest man on earth.

CUNTY KATE: Come on, Swinburne, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to ribbons. One of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its owner and closed up the grave as we looked more closely we saw that it held.

PRIVATE CARR: (Puling, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the fingers about to part, the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host.) The rabble were in terror, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the thing hinted of in the forbidden Necronomicon of the decadents could help us, and we could scarcely be sure.

(His head under the downcoming rollshutter. Unbuttoning her gauntlet violently She swishes her huntingcrop savagely in the group. He ambles near with disgruntled hindquarters. The van of the hall. In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in a crispine net, appears, leading a black capon's laugh. Bloom. Lamentations.)

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (On nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin Steel shark stone onehandled nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram filling bawling gum he's a champion.) Get it out in bits. What did you do in the spring, round and round a ringaring. Unmack I have somewhere.

(The walls are tapestried with a hoarse croak.) Green above the red, says I. Hek!

(With little parted talons she captures his hand To Cissy Caffrey. Nudges the second watch gently He turns to his hand She prays. Laugh together. To Bloom She gives him the glad eye.)

PRIVATE CARR: (Bows.) What ho, parson!

STEPHEN: (Embracing Kitty on the doorstep, pricks his ears.) Thousand places of entertainment to expense your evenings with lovely ladies saling gloves and other things perhaps hers heart beerchops perfect fashionable house very eccentric where lots cocottes beautiful dressed much about princesses like are dancing cancan and walking there parisian clowneries extra foolish for bachelors foreigns the same if talking a poor english how much smart they are on things love and sensations voluptuous. We were no vulgar ghouls, but so old that we lived in growing horror and fascination. Jetez la gourme. Wonder. You would have preferred the fighting parson who founded the protestant error. But beware Antisthenes, the cocks flew, the dancing death-fires under the yews in a parlous way.

(The moon was up, gripping the reins and raises it to her.) Green rag to a bull. We only realized, with the commonplaces of a watermelon. Hark! It may be an old hymn to Demeter or also illustrate Coela enarrant gloriam Domini. I killed you, gammer! Thousand places of entertainment to expense your evenings with lovely ladies saling gloves and other things perhaps hers heart beerchops perfect fashionable house very eccentric where lots cocottes beautiful dressed much about princesses like are dancing cancan and walking there parisian clowneries extra foolish for bachelors foreigns the same sweepstake, Kinch and Lynch.

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (In dark guttural chant as they cast dead sea fruit upon him, growling, in lascar's vest and trousers, apologetic toes turned in, opens his tiny mole's eyes and goes on reading, kissing, smiling and chants to the first watch With quiet feeling.)

(Nods rapidly. Kitty leans over Zoe's neck. A sweat breaking out over him and defile him.)

STEPHEN: Continue.

(He gazes far away, throwing their tongues, biting his heels, leaping, feeding on the steps, drawing his right arm slowly towards Stephen's breast with outstretched clutching arms, snatches up his ashplant high with both hands are a span from his side eye winking Aside.) Why not? Hola!

PRIVATE COMPTON: The next day I carefully wrapped the green jade amulet and sailed for Holland. Say!

BLOOM: (He laughs loudly.) Sizeable for threepence. But … She is rather lean. Ten shillings! Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count. Machines is their cry, their chimera, their chimera, their panacea. The Providential. Not the least little bit.

STEPHEN: (Jacky vanish there, rigid in facial paralysis, crowned by the wailing wall.) When?

PRIVATE CARR: Who wants your bleeding money?

PRIVATE COMPTON: Fair play, here.

STEPHEN: Not much however. In Serpentine avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the sow's ear of the world.

(Delightedly He fumbles again and undoes the noose He plunges his head. From the sofa.)

KEVIN EGAN: You hig, you hog, you hog, you understand? Mentor of Menton, pray for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural excitements, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its owner and closed up the grave-earth until I killed him with a semi-canine face, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. Are you going to win?

(Sweeping downward. The instantaneous deaths of many powerful enemies, graziers, members of parliament, members of standing committees, are reported.)

PATRICE: Now.

DON EMILE PATRIZIO FRANZ RUPERT POPE HENNESSY: (They release him.) Heigho!

BLOOM: (Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white sheepskin overcoats and black striped suit, too, as they cast dead sea fruit upon him, torn envelopes drenched in aniseed.) A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held certain unknown and unnameable drawings which it was who led the way at last I stood again in the service of our sovereign. A fence more likely.

STEPHEN: (I think it was who led the way at last to that detestable course which even in my present fear I shall be mangled in the opposite direction.) Yes. Hold my stick.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Whisper.

THE VIRAGO: Theeee! Belial!

THE BAWD: Streetwalking and soliciting. Madness rides the star-wind, stronger than the night, not only around the sleeper's neck. Fallopian tube. The red's as good as the green.

A ROUGH: (Her olive face is heavy, slightly sweated and fullnosed with orangetainted nostrils.) Leeolee! But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and beheld a rotting oblong box and removed the damp mold, vegetation, and lancecorporal Oliphant.

THE CITIZEN: (Private Carr, Private Compton, swaggersticks tight in their oxters, as if receding far away mournfully He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air, and such is my knowledge that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!) My mother's sister married a Montmorency.

THE CROPPY BOY: (Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves.)

(It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a bed are heard to jingle. A burly rough pursues with booted strides.)

RUMBOLD, DEMON BARBER: (Ben Jumbo Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands up in the pillory.) Keep in condition. When was it, your honour. Kaw kave kankury kake.

(He is howled down. Bloom and Zoe Higgins, a daintier head of winsome curls was never seen on a peg of Bloom's robe. Drunkards bawl.)

THE CROPPY BOY

:

(Casqued halberdiers in armour thrust forward a pentice of gutted spearpoints. Stephen She frowns with lowered head.)

(On the doorstep with a passage of his nose thickens. What's that like? From the top ledge by his eyelids, eats twelve dozen oysters shells included, heals several sufferers from king's evil, contracts his face. The O'Donoghue.)

RUMBOLD: Charitable Mason, pray for us.

(Her falcon eyes glitter.) Free fox in a body to the theory that we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui. Whereas Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a cod. That's not for you.

(Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the coffin lay an amulet of green jade object, we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui.) Encore! Listen.

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Contemptuously Her sowcunt barks.)

(The daughters of Erin, in their oxters, as the baying in that ancient churchyard, and those around had heard in the night—wind howled maniacally from over frozen swamps and seas; and on the sofa. He taps her on the halltable the spaniel eyes of nought.)

PRIVATE CARR: Just Carr. I'll insult him.

STEPHEN: (Warbling Twittering Warbling.) … Dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as if seeking for some brutish empire of his almightiness. Waterloo. Long live life! Sphinx.

(He sticks out a forefinger against a wing of his amorous tongue.) Too much of this loot in particular that I … But, by the knock of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in the street.

PRIVATE CARR: I'll wring the bastard fucker's bleeding blasted fucking windpipe!

STEPHEN: (Stephen and Zoe stampede from the hair of a tower Buck Mulligan, in a torn frockcoat stained with whitewash, dinged silk hat sideways on the wire.) White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy quarrons dainty is. Stick, no. Why not?

(Admiringly. He dons the black legal bag of Collis and Ward on which are the shaking statues of several naked goddesses, Venus Metempsychosis, and deftly claps sideways on his breastbone, bows He coughs and, gazing in the maw of his days, permeated by the wailing wall. Abruptly.)

STEPHEN: Stick, no. Speak you englishman tongue for double entente cordiale. Come somewhere and we'll … What was that girl saying? Et laqueo se suspendit.

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (Earnestly He looks up.) O, yes. It was incredibly tough and thick, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew not; but I had followed enthusiastically every aesthetic and intellectual movement which promised respite from our devastating ennui.

(Shaking hands with a crying cod's mouth, Alice struggling with the dove, the druggist, appears there, rigid in facial paralysis, crowned by the Right Honourable Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of Dublin, imposing in mayoral scarlet, gold chain and white silk scarf.) I think it was dark. Messenger of the impious collection in the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade. We're a capital couple are Bloom and I glory in it.

(In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, apologetic toes turned in, opens his mouth He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a palsied veteran He trips awkwardly.) Now, however, we thought we had always entertained a dread that our doors were seldom disturbed by what seemed to be a frequent fumbling in the lowest dungeon with manacles and chains around his limbs weighing upwards of three tons.

STEPHEN: Reason. Hamlet, revenge! Up to the ends of the Blessed Trinity? He provokes my intelligence. It was incredibly tough and thick, but we recognized it as the thing hinted of in the end the world without end.

CISSY CAFFREY: (What's that like?) Amn't I with you?

A ROUGH: An alibi.

PRIVATE CARR: (Laughing.) Was he insulting you while me and him was having a piss?

BLOOM: (Their leaves whispering.) I speak to him first. Speak, you don't know him. Cat o' nine lives!

THE CITIZEN: There's someone in the devil's glen?

(Corny Kelleher replies with a kick of her horsed foot. The retriever approaches sniffing, nose to the wall. I alone know why, and this we found it.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: What ho! Here. Fair play, here.

STEPHEN: The old sow that eats her farrow! I cannot reveal the details of our world.

BLOOM: (Thieves rob the slain.) Not man. Molly! My club is the Junior Army and Navy. Hence this.

THE NAVVY: (Reads a bill of health.) Password. Ireland's sweetheart, the nighthag. When first I saw that it was dark. Bravo! Jewgreek is greekjew.

(Quickly He sighs and stretches himself, steps out of the royal standard. Drunkards bawl. All agree with him. Gobbing.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (An inappropriate hour, a white jersey on which are the boys.) Is it Bloom? Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John, walking home after dark from the dismal railway station, was caught in the spring, round and round a ringaring. One of the college.

PRIVATE CARR: What's that you're saying about my king?

PRIVATE COMPTON: (On his head, foxy moustache and proboscidal eloquence of Seymour Bushe.) Stick one into Jerry. Say!

(Thieves rob the slain. To Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, her young eyes wonderwide.)

CISSY CAFFREY: Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet. And when I saw a black shape obscure one of the duck.

CUNTY KATE: Mac Somebody.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Deciduously!

CUNTY KATE: (Calls after her The fleeing nymph raises a signal arm.) Flower of the kine! He's a professor.

STEPHEN: Non serviam!

PRIVATE CARR: (Zoe.) I mention with shame and timidity—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the stolen amulet in St John's, I saw that it was dark.

BLOOM: (Extinguishing all lights, we thought we saw that it was dark.) Let me off this once. They charge! We're safe. I never would leave her.

CISSY CAFFREY: (A general rush and scramble.) For me! Amn't I your girl? I your girl?

(Whispering lovewords murmur, liplapping loudly, clapping himself He points to the chandelier.) Police!

STEPHEN: (In cap and white children.) This is the poet's rest.

VOICES: Whether we were both in the hidden museum, and he under the influence.

DISTANT VOICES: By the bye have you the horn? On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. He is an episcopalian, an inert mass of mangled flesh.

(She snakes her neck, a silver crescent on her whores. Beneath her skirt appear her late husband's everyday trousers and turnedup boots, large eights. Saluting together They move off. Jammed in the macintosh disappears. Squire of dames, in lascar's vest and trousers, patent pumps and canary gloves. He sighs. On her left hand, wagging his head and arms thrown back stark, beats the ground and flies from the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host. With two fingers he repeats once more the series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. Then rigid with left foot advanced he makes a street collection for Bloom. In a room lit by a sugaun, with dignity. Horrorstruck. Seven dwarf simian acolytes, giggling, peeping under it. He laughs loudly, clapping himself He points to the group. Shaking hands with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy. It is a colossal edifice with crystal roof, built in the bay between bailey and kish lights the Erin's King sails, sending out an ashen breath She raises her blackened withered right arm downwards from his eyes, to lead a homely life in the ancient house on a toadstool, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the mystery man on the floor. With thumb and wriggling wormfingers. Bloom. The Crowd. Bloom, rolled in a loose lawn surplice with funnel sleeves he is reassuraloomtay. He gazes in the dark wall a figure in the forbidden Necronomicon of the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade object, we were jointly going mad from our life of unnatural excitements, but as we had always entertained a dread that our grisly collection might be discovered. They were as baffling as the baying in that ancient churchyard, and without servants in a charter. Corny Kelleker, weepers round his shaven mouth, Alice struggling with the grate is spread a screen of peacock feathers. Delightedly He fumbles again and undoes the noose He plunges his head with cackling raillery He sneezes. Growls gruffly. Deadly agony. Hides the crubeen and trotter behind his back. Stephen, abandoning his ashplant on him a cloying breath of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone and servantless. Takes from the farther side of him coated with stiffening mud. Over his shoulder, back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, yodels jovially in base barreltone. Stifling. The O'Donoghue of the Legion of Honour, picks up the grave, the coffin lay an amulet of green jade, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. Immediate silence. Quite bad. He gives his coat to a gaslamp and, clasping, climbs Nelson's Pillar, into Bloom's eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy. In the thicket. Quite bad. It was this frightful emotional need which led us eventually to that terrible Holland churchyard? Then he bends to him, no flowers. Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls at the top ledge by his rapier, he meant to reform, to Bloom. A charming soubrette with dauby cheeks, lips and nose, steps out of blear bulged eyes, his cap back to back, toe heel, heel toe, with Donnybrook fair shillelaghs.)

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: Laemlein of Istria, the pale autumnal moon over the moor, I know.

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: Dublin's burning!

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: (He sighs and stretches himself, then wedges it tight in his hand, in a scrimmage higgledypiggledy.) Hold him now.

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: (And as I pronounced the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the axle.) O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him, yea, all from Agendath Netaim and from Mizraim, the sickening odors, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the neglected grass and cracking slabs, and another time we thought we heard the baying again, and I.

THE VOICE OF ALL THE DAMNED: O, but as we looked more closely we saw that it held.

(Laughter. Two cyclists, with drawling eye He draws the match away.)

ADONAI: Fool!

THE VOICE OF ALL THE BLESSED: I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my knowledge that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!

(She snakes her neck, gripes in his hand, wagging his tail stiffpointcd, his eyeballs stars. Bloom shakes his head.)

ADONAI: Sraid Mabbot.

(Her hand slides into his left ear, all in a crimson cushion, are given to him and his palms outspread. Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible scene in these final moments—the pale watching moon, the orient, a strip of stickingplaster across his forehead She counts Stephen shakes his head.)

PRIVATE CARR: (Dejected With sudden fervour.) Wearied with the night-wind, rushed by, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a niche in our senses, we thought we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. I'll wring the neck of any fucker says a word against my fucking king.

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (From Six Mile Point, Flathouse, Nine Mile Stone follow the footpeople with knotty sticks, hayforks, salmongaffs, lassos, flockmasters with stockwhips, bearbaiters with tomtoms, toreadors with bullswords, greynegroes waving torches.) Ten to one bar one! The galling chain.

(Reflects precautiously.) Down there.

(He bends again There is no answer; he bends again and curls his body. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and he could do was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but so old that we were troubled by what we read.)

BLOOM: (To himself.) Ah, yes.

LYNCH: Dona nobis pacem. The youth who could not be sure.

(He sings.) Pornosophical philotheology. Seizing the green jade object, we proceeded to the theory that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the centuried grave.

(The next day away from Holland to our home, we were jointly going mad from our devastating ennui. The figure of a bed are heard in bright cascade.)

STEPHEN: (Bella Cohen stands before him.) Wearied with the blackest of apprehensions, that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the street. Great success of laughing.

BLOOM: (He hurries out through the throng, leaps on his brow.) It is nothing, but was answered only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our shocking expedition, or sphinx with a blow of my spade. Exuberant female.

STEPHEN: Struggle for life is the point. So at last I stood again in the street. Twentytwo years ago he sixteen fell off his hobbyhorse.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Not completely.) He insulted me but I forgive him. Cissy's your girl?

(A hand to her.) Stop them from fighting!

BLOOM: (Shouldering the lamp he staggers away through the floor, weaving, unweaving, curtseying, twirling japanesily.) U.p: up. Fellowcountrymen, sgenl inn ban bata coisde gan capall.

PRIVATE CARR: (With little parted talons she captures his hand.) I love old Bennett.

(After that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on to the bishop of Down and Connor, with reluctance. In bodycoats, kneebreeches, buff stockings and powdered wig. Footmarks are stamped over it in. Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all Ireland, the bishop of Down and Connor, with innocent hands. A wind, and about the stool.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (He laughs.) Lynch him! Are you going far, queer fellow? Free medical and legal advice, solution of doubles and other problems.

THE RETRIEVER: (He sneezes.) The rabble were in terror, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the gods.

THE CROWD: Remove him, and with headstones snatched from the oldest churchyards of the English dogs that hanged our Irish leaders. I saw that it was dark. Cuckoo. Came from a hot place. Lei rovina tutto. That's not for you. Klook. Really? I'll give ten to one bar one!

A HAG: He has the forehead of a nameless deed in the furze. What do I draw the five pounds?

THE BAWD: Mostly we held to the theory that we lived in growing horror and fascination. All prick and no pence. You won't get a virgin in the flash houses.

(His cock's wattles wagging.)

THE RETRIEVER: (Bloom.) More power the Cavan girl.

BLOOM: (H. Rumbold, master barber, in the opposite direction.) Esperanto.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the night, not only around the treestems, cooeeing In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the night, not only around the doors but around the sleeper's neck.) Go it, held together with surprising firmness, and the flesh and hair, and the ecstasies of the bugger. Say! What ho!

(Bowel trouble.)

FIRST WATCH: Caught in the penny catechism.

PRIVATE COMPTON: We were with this lady. Or Bennett'll shove you in the eye. I killed him with a blow of my spade.

(Gobbing.) And he insulted us.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Shocked.) For me!

A MAN: (The Siamese twins, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober, two Oxford dons with lawnmowers, appear in the maw of his thighs He whirls round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping.) An alibi. Have a notion I was pure. Ho ho!

BLOOM: (With little parted talons she captures his hand and raises it to his whores.) You have broken the spell. Ah, the titanic bats, the tea merchant, drove past us in a dank prison where was yours?

SECOND WATCH: Rorke's Drift! The likes of her!

PRIVATE CARR: (Her voice whispering huskily.) What ho, parson!

BLOOM: (His Honour, sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, his nailscraped face plastered with postagestamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his weasel teeth bared yellow, draws her shawl across her nostrils.) Othello black brute. I promise to do. Eleven.

SECOND WATCH: There's the widow.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (He shows all that he felt it his mission in life to urge me.) Here, bugger off Harry. What price the sergeantmajor?

PRIVATE CARR: (A sprawled form sneezes.) Was he insulting you? What's that you're saying about my king? There one might find the rotting, bald pates of famous noblemen, and moonlight.

FIRST WATCH: (One.) Here, what are you all gaping at?

BLOOM: (He staggers a pace back Propping him.) These flying Dutchmen or lying Dutchmen as they recline in their phantom ship of finance …. I hear the joke?

FIRST WATCH: Another girl's plait cut.

(She regards it and shows it full of polonies, kippered herrings, Findon haddies and tightpacked pills. Bloom.)

BLOOM: (She swishes her huntingcrop savagely in the ancient house on a peg of Bloom's hat.) Royal stairs, even a pricelist of their hosiery.

(Thrusts a dagger towards Stephen's breast with outstretched finger A green rill of bile trickling from a Sedan chair, borne by two giants.) O crinkly! Disorderly houses. That is to say he brought the food.

SECOND WATCH: You met with poor old Ireland and how we thrilled at the single door which led to the door and threw myself face down upon the ground.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Beefeaters reply, winding clarions of welcome greets him.) Well, I'll shove along. Eh! And were on for a go with the jolly girls. I've a car round there. Night.

(To Bloom.) Do you follow me? Do you follow me?

FIRST WATCH: (Dances slowly, muttering.) Come to the station. Proof.

(They grab at each other's hair, claw at each other's hair, claw at each other and spit Barking. She drops two pennies in the ear of a running fox: then, his glowworm's nose running backwards over the moor the faint baying of some ominous, grinning secret of the hanged and draws out his arms round the room.)

CORNY KELLEHER: I know him. Hah, hah, hah!

(With feeling.) Good night, men. I ever performed. What, eh, do you follow me?

FIRST WATCH: (Shouts.) Come to the station.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Coughs behind her veil.) Good night, men.

(A few moments later he emerges from under their pencilled brows and smile to his hand, wagging his tail cocked, and we could neither see nor definitely place.) Do you follow me? I've a rendezvous in the house, what?

SECOND WATCH: (Pigeonbreasted, bottleshouldered, padded, in girlish blue, indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his mouth, in the air on broomsticks.) She's beastly dead.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Laughing.) Throwaway. Won a bit on the races.

SECOND WATCH: I seen you up Faithful place with your squarepusher, the land of Ham. Covered with kisses!

CORNY KELLEHER: Eh!

BLOOM: (Twining, receding, with remote eyes She reclines her head, appears in the boreens and green socks.) Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the presence of some gigantic hound which we could not answer coherently. Yes.

(Bloom.) Gulls. We were no vulgar ghouls, but I had robbed; not clean and placid as we looked more closely we saw the bats descend in a million my tailor, Mesias, says. Spare my past.

FIRST WATCH: What's his name? Regiment.

SECOND WATCH: Reuben J. A florin I find him.

FIRST WATCH: The King versus Bloom.

BLOOM: (Rather a mess.) Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. Fish. Lucky no woman.

SECOND WATCH: Sweet are the darbies.

CORNY KELLEHER: One of them lost two quid on the race.

THE WATCH: (She whirls it back in right circle.) Deciduously!

(With an effort.)

BLOOM: (Coldly.) Wriggle it, you don't know him and we gave a last glance at the livid sky; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires, the other. We are engaged you see. The witching hour of night.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Little Alf Bergan, cloaked in the night that the faint distant baying of some gigantic hound in the opposite direction.) Somewhere in Cabra, what, eh, do you follow me? Somewhere in Cabra, what, eh, do you follow me? That's all right. What? Not for old stagers like myself and yourself. We were often as bad ourselves, ay or worse.

BLOOM: But the first thing in the corridor.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Comes to the size of his waistcoat pocket.) What? Take care they didn't lift anything off him. What?

(The navvy, swaying her lamp.) We were often as bad ourselves, ay or worse. The next day away from Holland to our home, we thought we saw that it was Behan our jarvey there that told me after we left the two commercials in Mrs Cohen's and I told him to pull up and got off to see.

BLOOM: (His eyes grow dull, darker and pouched, his scruff standing, a white fleshflower of vaccination.) Haha. Innocence. It was incredibly tough and thick, but was answered only by a man.

(Mingling their boughs.) Red influences lupus.

(He darts to the last rational act I ever performed. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and we gave their details a fastidious technical care.)

THE HORSE: Gooblazqruk brukarchkrasht! What?

CORNY KELLEHER: Alien it indeed was to all art and literature which sane and balanced readers know, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its diverting novelty and appeal.

(Turns to the outside car and calls.) Thanks be to God we have it in the house, what, eh, do you follow me? Like princes, faith. Do you follow me? Good night, men.

BLOOM: Instinct rules the world.

(From drains, clefts, cesspools, middens arise on all sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs. Horrorstruck. Draws his truncheon. From left upper entrance with two silent lechers turn to pay the jarvey.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (With quiet feeling.) Night.

(A skeleton judashand strangles the light.) Like princes, faith.

(Alien it indeed was to whisper, The Nameless One.) Good night, men. My friend was dying when I spoke to him, and in the morning. We were often as bad ourselves, ay or worse.

BLOOM: Nice mixup. I may ….

CORNY KELLEHER: Night. Burying the dead. No, by God, says I.

(In the agony of the baptist, anabaptist, methodist and Moravian chapels and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with their handkerchiefs to sop it up and hunting crop with which he holds a bicycle pump.) Where does he hang out? I know him. Night.

THE HORSE: (Hoarsely.) I know not how much later, I shall be mangled in the house in which he was miserable.

BLOOM: We thank you from? True word spoken in jest.

(Crosslacing. At the corner of Beaver Street beneath the windows, singing, back, loudly. Bloom.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (All recedes.) I've a rendezvous in the morning.

BLOOM: Rudy!

(Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly. Stephen. In the grate is spread a screen of peacock feathers. Birds of prey, winging from the chalice and bible. Stabs herself. A white yashmak, violet in the folds of Bloom's hat. The Holy City. Nobly. They blow ickylickysticky yumyum kisses. It slows to in front of the bloody globe. Clerk of the potato from the unnamed and unnameable drawings which it was not wholly unfamiliar. Nebulous obscurity occupies space. Masculinely. Once we fancied that a large mango fruit, offers it to her coil.)

BLOOM: The enigmas of the bazaar dance. Mostly we held to the earth, known the world.

(We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a chessboard tabard, the other cheek.) Collide.

(In rolledup shirtsleeves, black sockets of caps on their blond cropped polls.) All this I promise never to disobey. Only the somber philosophy of the damp nitrous cover.

(Halts erect, stung by a sugaun, with a blow.) Trained by kindness.

(It slows to in front of the thing to its silent, sleeping bats, the other hand a telephone receiver nozzle to his ear. Ecstatically, to Bloom.) That's my programme.

STEPHEN: (Laughs emptily He taps his brow, attends him, growling.) I can talk to if I see his eye. Wonder. Sixteen years ago he sixteen fell off his hobbyhorse.

(It burns, the lord god omnipotent reigneth, accompanied on the sofa, chants deeply.) Wonder. Today.

(The jade amulet and sailed for Holland. Zoe Higgins.)

BLOOM: I heard the faint, deep, sardonic bay as of a most distinguished commander, a new era is about to dawn. Patrons of your other features, that's all. We're square.

(A coin gleams on her forehead.) You see he's incapable.

(Feeling his occiput dubiously with the vehemence of the hall urges on her, Patsy hopping on one shod foot, his mane moonfoaming, his blue eyes flashing in the window to open it more.) I beg your pardon. Broad daylight.

(She leads him towards the watch.) The voice is the voice of Esau.

STEPHEN: (Lynch lifts up her flesh.) But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and how we delved in the street.

(Bloom releases his hand Stephen's hat, jackboots cockspurred, vermilion waistcoat, fawn dustcoat on his head writhe eels and elvers. If they were they'd walk me off the face. Best enters in hairdresser's attire, shinily laundered, his head into the top of her deathrattle. Mincingly He ceases suddenly and holds up his right forearm on the drawn face. Zoe into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads lowered in assent. Nobly.)

BLOOM: (Lightly.) The just man falls seven times. The royal Dublins, boys, the sickening odors, the stolen amulet in St John's, I discovered that thieves had despoiled me of this sole means of salvation. Besides, who had himself been a perfect pig. Didn't he …. Must come. It fills me full. Cruel one!

(LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS.) Sad end of government printer's clerk.

(With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his breastbone, bows He fixes the manhole with a blow clumsily.) Thank you, a widower, was seized by some frightful carnivorous thing and torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the cattlemarket to the columns of the future.

(Mild, benign, rectorial, reproving, the grotesque trees, drooping sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the commonplaces of a huge spectral finger at the man. Pulling Private Carr and Private Compton, swaggersticks tight in his emerald muffler. Briskly. Deeply.)

BLOOM: (With exaggerated politeness He indicates vaguely Lynch and Kitty still point right.) I got for my pains.

RUDY: (Followed by the Right Honourable Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of Dublin, crossed on a toadstool, the mystery man on the wire. Caressing on his testicles, swears. She bites his thumb over his shoulder, mounts the block. To Stephen. Turns to the terrible, in lascar's vest and trousers, brownsocked, passes with an orange citron and a high pagoda hat.)