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traumatized-motherfuckers · 4 years ago

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Stress-based sickness, psychosomatic disorders, and the F word. Fibromyalgia.

Read up or listen up @t-mfrs.com (podcast available wherever you stream.)

Waking up, like I didn’t sleep for weeks. Falling asleep after five minutes on my feet. A pounding head. That sense of dread. Sticky sharp pains through in my shoulders and neck. Brain short on energy, missing a few cards from the deck. Waves of nausea and stomach cramps. Chills and sweats, depending on the body amps. Swollen lymph nodes. Muscle weakness poorly bodes. Insatiable hunger but nothing sounds edible - shit, now desire to throw up is incredible. Eyes shriveling, dry, back into my skull. The aches in my legs, pulsing and dull. Foggy thoughts. Racing heart. When will this end, why did this start?

Did I finally catch the ‘rona? Or am I just past my limit for being stressed out again? Well, I just moved, so this time I know that the answer is very likely… stressed.

So who wants to talk about getting sick? Yeah, among this group, the answer might be surprising. A lot of us do.

Why? Not because we love bitching and complaining when we feel less than ideal - spoilers, that’s every day, there’s really nothing left to say about the raging shit storms inside of us after a few years of it. We’re tired of hearing about it, too… just like we’re tired of living it, feeling it, and fearing it.

No, for us, it’s because it feels like there’s always a surprising ailment right around the corner when we least expect it. One that seemingly has no logical basis or reasonable solution. One that no one else understands. One that feels like it’s born of mental illness, somehow, while being very physically present. One that we don’t even bother bringing to doctors anymore, because no one needs to be shamed and shoved out the door again by their flippant disinterest in anything we say after the words, “Yes, I have anxiety.”

Yep. If you haven’t tried to mingle mental health with western medicine before, let me give you a quick disclaimer: unless you’re missing an arm, don’t bother. In my experience, the only thing you’ll get is an eye roll, possibly a prescription bandaid that somehow makes you feel worse, and a bored recommendation to see a psychiatrist - even if you already do.

All of this, of course, has the effect of only making you feel more upset. First, mentally, as you ruminate over the disrespect of essentially being called a liar just because the doctor doesn’t have enough training. Then, physically, as your increased stress and systemic arousal pushes your body into a new level of overdrive.

Oh, was it a mindfuck just to make the doctor appointment, get yourself there, and deal with the social anxiety of a waiting room for 30-120 minutes? I bet it felt great for someone to then invalidate your health concerns, recommend you calm down, and send you out the door without even looking you in the eye. Feeling more upset, now on a highly emotional basis? Enjoy the shame, hypertension, and lost sleep, as if you needed any more of that.

Today, I want to talk about the stress-central area of my health that hasn’t been completely figured out… and the label that I - embarrassingly - just recently learned is highly applicable to my physical condition.

But also, the outrage that I feel over said label, because, well, it explains nothing. In fact, if anything, it probably does all of us a huge disservice after we’re granted this diagnosis by pushing us into the express lane for being written off. It also separates two issues that are poorly explained, rather than combining them into one full picture that might actually yield answers. Oh, and should I mention that I think this is a larger problem of gender bias in the healthcare system? Yeah, why the fuck not. Might as well air all my grievances as a nice lead-in to another upcoming episode; is mental illness diagnosis skewed by gender?

I don’t want to let my pounding head and aching shoulders deter me too much, so let’s just get started.

History of ailments

I’ve talked about this before, but to briefly cover how fucked up this body is… let’s take a trip back to 2013 when my system failed me out of the blue. And by “out of the blue,” I mean that I had chronically overworked myself running on anxiety, obligation, and starvation for 2 years, leading to physiological revolt.

So, looking back, “duh.”

But at the time? This was all-new. It was crisis-inducing and beyond comprehension that I went from a perfectly healthy, physically resilient, surprisingly strong and low maintenance specimen to a chronically pained, systemically ill, digestively impaired, and constantly exhausted sack of wallowing self-hated.

After a lifetime of zero health concerns, I found myself bedridden and obsessed with every weird thing my body was doing to me. Which, as you’ve probably guessed, came hand in hand with the new weird things my brain was doing to me.

You’ve probably heard the “What IS CPTSD?” episode by now, so I’m guessing you’re not a stranger to the details about the common emergence of complex trauma symptoms. Yes, that’s based on a lot of research, but it’s also a throwback to my own experience. I was a long time depression and anxiety lurker, first time complex trauma contributor around age 23, when my brain was suddenly uprooted by a series of new social and therapy-based traumas.

My depression became debilitating negative self-regard and stronger suicidal ideation. Suddenly, my social anxiety became agoraphobia. My new health issues became topics of obsessive and intrusive thoughts… you know, when I wasn’t ruminating about my role in every trauma, my worthlessness as a human, and my recently-unsettled childhood memories. My early twenties were a great time.

And with all the mental strain, came the unresolvable insomnia. Which fed right into the health problems. Which circled back to spark more mental duress. Health anxiety is not a fun way to live.

So, to call my illnesses psychosomatic is completely appropriate. But, also, completely insulting when a western medicine practitioner utters the phrase as if it was a turd slowly coming out the wrong end. And that’s exactly what happened every time I tried to seek help.

To be clear - back in the day I had some very easily detectable physical problems. I understand that doctors have a difficult job when it comes to interpreting the immeasurable inner experiences that their patients detail, but that wasn’t entirely the case here. When your body stops digesting food, well, there’s some evidence to prove that it’s a fact. When a 96oz medical grade laxative used for colonoscopy prep results in zero percent colon cleanse… uh… somebody isn’t doing their duty (pun intended). And boy, did my digestive system just decide that it was DONE doing its only job.

Everything I ate seemed to spark unpleasant physical responses, but moving materials through my guts and extracting nutrients wasn’t one of them. After months of garbage disposal failure, I was basically a walking sewer mixed with a compost pile. I found myself chronically starving, exhausted, puffy, distended, intestinally inflamed, and generally sickly. Your body doesn’t fare so well when it has no sustenance, it turns out.

At the same time, or maybe slightly predating my digestive protests, I started getting ill in weird ways. Things I had never experienced before started popping up, like chronic respiratory tract infections, sinus infections, and gum infections. I was having what seemed like allergic responses to something in my inner or outer environment. I was often covered in hives or my face and stomach were inflating like balloons for no apparent reason. I had near-constant pain in my continually-locked shoulders and neck. My actual skin, itself, hurt, as if I was being stretched to the brink of bursting. My lifelong migraines transformed into something new - disorienting tension migraines that came with horrifying loss-of-vision auras and feverish shakes.

Generally speaking, I was so tired all the time that I could barely get out of bed for more than a few moments before retreating back to my safe place to feel like garbage. My limbs felt like someone had tied weights to them and extracted several major muscle groups. I struggled even showering or washing my face, because both required holding my arms up higher than I was capable of enacting. I was so deliriously tired that I couldn’t see straight, think, or complete basic tasks.

On top of giving up my impressive life trajectory in the aftermath of the physical breakdown - because I was too fucking exhausted to consider the next steps I needed to take for grad school - this is also where I’ve previously mentioned my drive-aphobia coming into play. When you can’t count on your own faculties, you definitely don’t want to be behind the wheel. And suddenly, life gets very restricted.

I gave up my… anything life trajectory at that point. I went from a wildly social and focused student with a fantastic sense of humor about life and stronghold of self-determination to… Hiding indoors. Keeping isolated. Obsessing over my health. Googling the most embarrassing things late at night. Having no answers. Feeling like a crazy person. Hating myself. Fearing that this was the end. Assuming that my future was over. Guilting myself for fucking up my past. Replaying my tragic story of a rapid flight and a crash, after everything I had fought so hard to accomplish. Giving up.

This is riiiiight about where I pull most of my inspiration for talking about living in perpetual “trauma states” from. Being consistently triggered, out of control, and terrified. Having no answers and no one to even ask. Watching mental illness take over my world without the slightest clue of what was happening. And, oh, the perpetual torment of unpredictable physical breakdowns.

Everyday a new surprise. Every moment the opportunity for a shocking change in vitality. Every night a battle of my brain versus my chronic pains versus sleep.

And so it persisted, throughout 2013 and into several later years… despite the fact that I actually came up with an answer for myself that vastly improved a good part of the sickness struggle... but definitely didn’t fix it all.

Finding AN answer

I’m sure I’ve already mentioned this, too… but eventually I found some respite in my health struggles through no help from modern medicine. In fact, I helped myself thanks to familial clues when I decided to exclusion-diet my way into an answer. My grandpa had celiac’s disease long before it was trendy and I decided gluten was a logical place to start. And what do you know? That helped about 60% of my ailments.

So began years of obsessing over figuring out the gluten free life. Which, contrary to popular opinion, fucking sucks. I get that it became a trendy idea at exactly the wrong point in my life, but goddamnit, I hate the question, "Are you ACTUALLY gluten free, or is it by choice?" It is not a dietary walk in the park when essentially every item is contaminated with some form or another of secret sauce and your body is going to flip out at the slightest dusting.

I remember being so distraught over having these drastic dietary considerations to figure out on my own that I would spontaneously break down into tears in all sorts of places - the fridge, the grocery store, restaurants, social contexts when people kindly asked, “how about you choose where to eat this time.” I can’t choose! I can’t eat anything! I would privately bawl to myself. What a fun time that was.

But that was not nearly the end of it.

It turned out, yes, entirely cutting the glutens helped immensely. I also realized that sugar was not my friend. In fact, processed anything was not going to have a great outcome. But then… there was this other weird pattern that I started noticing in my life… sometimes I was pretty healthy and (relatively speaking) happy with the way things were going off-wheat. But sometimes I was just as sickly and digestively screwed when I definitely hadn’t consumed anything questionable. As if other tried and true components of my diet randomly became gluten analogs that upset me just as much.

Plus, there were some ailments that just never seemed to go away. The insomnia was a persistent problem that stretched back to being about 5 years old, but got more severe with time. The aches and pains in my neck and shoulders only worsened, no matter how many tennis balls I rolled on, yoga classes I attended, or muscle relaxers I popped. The exhaustion came and went with connections to my mental health and diet, but not directly related to bready food items. The brain fog didn’t clear up when I had a strictly regimented diet. The tension migraines never fully returned from where they came.

I was still finding myself bedridden and ready to give up on the whole idea of living on a semi-regular basis. Sometimes it was every two weeks, sometimes once a month, sometimes a few months apart. But I never knew why, how long it would last, or how to control the system-wide failures.

And if you want to know how western medicine helped me with any of these continued challenges… it didn’t. I tried to get answers for years before I finally gave up. Every doctor turned me away. Every specialist was critically uninterested. Even the Mayo Clinic neglected to listen to what I said or utilize applicable resources, after I was so sure they could solve the medical mystery of my life.

So. I stopped trying at a certain point. I resolved myself to being health anxious and perpetually confused by myself. I realized that I would never know what any day was going to bring, because my discomforts and continued sicknesses seemed to come and go with the tides.

Eventually, after years of this bullshit, it got a bit better. I buckled down with - you guessed it - strict routines designed to circumvent some of the challenges.

I realized that my diet needed to be incredibly tight, and by that, I mean “boring.” Beyond gluten, I cut out basically everything sugary, carby, and processed. I noticed that without a certain variety of physical exercise on a regimented basis, everything started slipping. I prioritized finding ways to get to sleep at night, even if it meant being rigid and assessed as “dramatic” by less slumber-impaired humans. I gave up any activities that caused neck and shoulder strain, and tried to be better about things like stretching. I also noticed that dealing with my emotions was a gateway to pain and discomfort relief, which was an uphill battle all it’s own. And, you know, eventually I learned about this Complex Trauma thing that explained a HUGE part of early to mid twenties, including a majority of the physical ailments.

But, although I began to live like an above-averagely healthy human again… I’ve still always had a few mysteries about my health.

Sure, over the course of many years I’ve figured out how to live with a semi-predictable body after long periods of never knowing what tomorrow would bring. But, unfortunately, there are still times when my system throws me a curveball. During those unanticipated spans of health failure, I’m left ruminating on a question or three that haven’t ever been answered consistently.

One of the most common inquiries is coming at you next.

Stress or sick?

So, even after all my life changes and careful modifications. All my sacrifices and seemingly over-the-top regimes. I’ve still had an ongoing health obsession that pops up from time to time when my shit starts to go downhill.

The incrementally-observed question that runs through my head on repeat… “Wait, am I communicably sick, or am I just fucking stressed out again?”

I realized a while back - maybe in my mid-late twenties - that holy hell, I sure felt like I was coming down with the flu more often than it was logical. The thing was, my symptoms only ever progressed to the point of feeling like I was still actively fighting off the sickness as it took hold. I would get the temperature dysregulation, the headache, the muscle pain, the foggy feeling, and oh boy, the exhaustion - that generally serve as your first signs of contagious trouble.

I would be too deliriously tired to get up and do anything. If I made myself go to work, it felt like wading through a dream. Half present, half falling asleep at my desk. My body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Even my head was too heavy for my neck to manage the task.

Beyond the energy void, I would genuinely start to experience pre-illness complaints, like swollen lymph nodes, congestion, and the aforementioned shivers and shakes. I would find myself incredibly hungry, as though my immune system was ramping up for a fight. I would get weak, like all my electrolytes were purged from my body. I would characterize the experience as feeling “generally under the weather” in preparation for something much larger slamming into town.

Beyond the energy void, I would genuinely start to experience pre-illness complaints, like swollen lymph nodes, congestion, and the aforementioned shivers and shakes. I would find myself incredibly hungry, as though my immune system was ramping up for a fight. I would get incredibly weak, like all my electrolytes were purged from my body. I would characterize the experience as feeling “generally under the weather” in preparation for something much larger slamming into town.

And I would respond in kind. I would retreat to bed, Nyquil and vitamin C showering over me on frequent intervals, gearing up for the systemic war of a lifetime. I would drift in and out of sleep for a day or two, fending off the weird muscle aches and sweat sessions that come with an emerging fever. Interestingly, many of my old food reactivities would rear up during this period. I would get my neti pot and vomit-bags ready for action.

And then… nothing else would happen. Assuming I chilled out and retreated to a state of forfeit when I actually treated myself with kindness and care, everything would work out. After 1-5 days of being back in my bedridden state, determined that significant contagious sickness was headed my way, it would seem to just disappear overnight. Or, clear up by about 70% overnight, to be more realistic.

It took several rounds of this pattern - I couldn’t tell you how many - before I finally realized… heyyo, my body shuts the fuck down when I’m stressed out. Every time I experienced one of these sudden falls from health, it followed (or ran in tandem with) a period of significant stress, anxiety, and/or depression. And if I let myself relax for a week, it would all be okay. If I tried to push through it because ObLiGaTiOnS, I was signing myself up for a prolonged and far more serious health failure. It happened too many times; I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. Like I had postulated earlier in my adulthood - my health seemed to be drastically affected by my mental state. Particularly, my interpretations of stress, obligations, and fears.

And I can tell you, my health anxiety quieted down for a while in the aftermath of the acceptance. Call it immersion therapy. When you’ve experienced the same event over and over again, but A never leads to B, and C-alming your shit makes condition A disappear back into the ethers... well, eventually you take it for what it is and just stop panicking so much. I think I got tired of preoccupying myself with the whole dumpster fire at some point and preferred to extinguish the flames by letting them run their course.

This is where I’ve lived for the past many years now. Realizing that if I push myself too hard mentally or physically, or if I let too many stress signals infiltrate my brain… I’m about to get fucked up. My health will slip quickly. I will be reactive to essentially every food on this planet. My body will be puffy, inflamed, and painful. Not to mention, so goddamn tired all the time. But that’s it. It won’t last forever. I’m not going to die. Telling myself the opposite makes it all last a lot longer. Don’t pile stress about your stress-induced sickness onto your existing stress, and you'll be better soon.

And yet, when it’s happening, I also never know for a fact that my stress-based illness is definitely what’s going on. The result is getting trapped in a “will I or won’t I” obsessive spiral of anticipating the worst while reassuring myself that it might be nothing at all. There’s a lot of internal and external conversation about it, as people want to know if you’re sick and you want to be able to warn them that you feel like death… but also have to throw in the caveat, “Iunno, you have to realize that this happens to me all the time and it’s usually nothing, though.”

Of course, this creates the opportunity for my brain to 1) tell me I’m probably fine, quit complaining, pussy, and 2) compare myself to everyone else on the planet, who doesn’t crumble when their brain interprets times are hard. Because, of course, I have to make myself feel mentally ridiculous for feeling physically horrible. Other people are always happy to help in this regard, too. "You sure get sick a lot. I thought you had the flu last month. Wow, it always seems like something is wrong with you." Mhm, I feel the same on all accounts.

And, Fuckers, that’s why I stopped talking about it or looking for answers a long time ago. Instead, I've just relied on the most logical answer and quit worrying. I’ve done enough research on my own, not to mention all my Animal Science schooling, to know how stress responses work. They’re significant. They have the potential to disrupt your entire body through hormonal dysregulation. And they work differently - as far as we can tell - depending on the organism.

So that’s what I’ve leaned on. Acknowledgement that stress really screws with me. It zaps my energy. It fogs up my brain. It makes me overstimulated. It causes weird pains and immune system responses. It churns up my digestive problems. It also makes me feel like I’m starving but nauseous all at once. Over long periods of time, it can lead to infections. It, obviously, ruins my sleep, which reaaaaally doesn’t help with any of it.

That’s that. Pretty complicated but simple. Try not to stress yourself out and god help you, if you do. Chill for a few days and you’ll be alright, probably. No one knows why it happens. Doctors don’t care. Just watch out for yourself, because no one else deals with this shit.

Unless… they totally do.

So, that’s fibromyalgia

I guess this is where I tell you something that a lot of folks have probably already figured out. Sorry if you’ve been yelling at me through your headphones this whole time - chill, I’m getting to it.

There definitely is a term for everything I’ve described. There are millions of other people who experience it. And, yeah, doctors often still don’t believe it’s real… but the numbers and anecdotal evidence don’t lie.

Ever heard of fibromyalgia?

Of course you have. But have you ever really looked into what it meant? Because… I hadn’t.

Annnnd then a listener and I were chatting on Instagram a few weeks ago. And she mentioned... everything I just mentioned. And her diagnosis had been? Fibromyalgia.

Via DM, your fellow Fucker started telling me about being tired all the time, mysterious aches and pains that worsen with stress, IBS symptoms, improper temperature regulation, and over-exertion that leads to required days of recovery. My jaw hit the floor.

You know I hopped online and started doing more research of my own. And all of the information was confirmed and expanded upon in a way that drove my mandible straight into the basement.

Hey, you know how fibromyalgia is synonymous with “widespread pain?” Oh shit, if you dig into it, there is a lot more to learn. Here’s a (maybe, complete?) list of the currently known associated symptoms. Keep in mind, I couldn’t find a single comprehensive resource for this information. This list is compiled of information from the the peer-reviewed article I'm going to read from later, the American College of Rheumatology, the CDC, Healthline, and Medical News Today. And if it sounds like a bit of a "catch all" pile, I think you're right.

Pain and stiffness all over the body

Fatigue and tiredness

Depression and anxiety

Sleep problems

Problems with thinking, memory, and concentration, known as “fibro-fog”

Headaches, including migraines

Tingling or numbness in hands and feet

Pain in the face or jaw

Digestive problems, such as abdominal pain, bloating, constipation, and irritable bowel syndrome

Tenderness to touch or pressure affecting muscles, sometimes joints or even the skin

Irritable or overactive bladder

Pelvic pain

Trouble focusing or paying attention

Pain or a dull ache in the lower belly

Dry eyes

Sleeping for long periods of time without feeling rested (nonrestorative sleep)

Acid reflux

Restless leg syndrome

Sensitivity to cold or heat

Problems with vision

Nausea

Weight gain

Dizziness

Cold or flu-like symptoms

Skin problems

Chest symptoms

Breathing problems

Insulin resistance

Wait, wait, wait. THAT’S what fibro is? Because, I’m sorry, I have literally never heard any of that detail before… and although it gets so ambiguous that I suspect these ailments are all the conditions that just haven't been explained before by medical science... this list just described my life. All the way down to the tiniest detail of dry eyes, as I now recall chronically dumping drops into mine for those same years in my 20s. What. The. Shit.

Prior to this research, my symptomatic knowledge of fibro was essentially - pain, of the unexplained and incurable variety. No one ever once has mentioned anything else about the condition to me, or allll the ways that it correlated with my years of health trauma. Not my peers, not my doctors, and not even my amazing, well-informed therapist.

So, maybe I’m really late to the game here, but long story short, my mind was blown when I heard that there’s actually a term for this experience which I had forfeited to processing as a “unique way that my body individually destroys me” for all these years. I thought I was just uniquely uncomfortable all the time and stopped burdening others with my experiences.

Maybe that’s why I never had anyone clue me in to the diagnosis - I honestly stopped talking about the cyclical sickness a while back, after recognizing that people didn’t respond favorably to the narrative, “I just get too stressed out to function.” Shutting my mouth and writing off my experiences may have halted my potential for hearing a realistic account of living with fibromyalgia. Oh, how the trauma shame shenanigans never stop royally fucking you.

Of course, based on my own recent education, now I’m wondering if fibromyalgia applies to far more of us in the trauma community. Because if I hadn’t found reliable information on it in all my trauma and inflammatory illness research over the years… how many other people are in the same boat?

And this brings me to my next point. I really hate the term fibromyalgia.

Why I hate the term

There’s actually another explanation for why I never heard about everything that fibromyalgia describes. Uh, you’re going to hate me for this, but I didn’t think it was a “real” diagnosis.

Yep. I’m telling you with moderate guilt that for the longest time, I appraised fibro in the same way that western medicine considers all psychosomatic illnesses - not valid. And I’m unhappy with myself, too. Believe me, I feel like my least favorite kind of person... a hypocrite. But this also points to the systemic issue that undermines so many of our attempts to get help, and that makes me far more unhappy.

You see, a number of years ago, as a budding counselor with a few years of experience, my therapist friend mentioned something about fibro. Specifically, that it was a common label granted to more seriously mentally affected patients… and it wasn’t believed to be a real thing. I wish I could remember more detail on the context, but the basis of the story is, someone that I trusted - someone with many trauma patients - told me that in her experience, no one took fibromyalgia seriously. People with intense mental illnesses regularly presented with unfounded complaints of pain, and this is the term they were assigned as a result.

There was no proof of their physical discomfort. The patients tended to have myriad mental and physical health issues. They tended to be more difficult clients. Professionals had doubts about how serious the complaints were. No evidence, no respect. It was just about that simple.

To give more weight to the story, here’s one quick excerpt that is actually validating to read, from an article titled, The management of fibromyalgia from a psychosomatic perspective: an overview.

“People with FM often reported dismissive attitudes from others, such as disbelief, stigmatization, lack of acceptance by their relatives, friends, coworkers, and the healthcare system, that consider them as ‘lazy’ or ‘attention seeking’ people, with their symptoms ‘all in their head’. Such dismissiveness can have a substantial negative impact on patients, who are already distressed, and also on the degree of their pain.”

So… similar to the asshole social associates described above… for years after that, I paid no attention to fibromyalgia. When people brought it up, I nodded and moved on. I didn’t disbelieve that there would be a connection between mental illness and the onset of bodily pains after my own experiences, but the term had also been shuttled to a file in my head that sidled up next to, “seeking prescription pain meds.” This was an incorrect judgement based on incorrect, oversimplified information. But unfortunately, it left an impression.

So… similar to the assholes described above… for years after that, I paid no attention to fibromyalgia. When people brought it up, I nodded and moved on. I didn’t disbelieve that there would be a connection between mental illness and the onset of bodily pains after my own experiences, but the term had also been shuttled to a file in my head that sidled up next to, “seeking prescription pain meds.” This was an incorrect judgement based on incorrect, oversimplified information. But unfortunately, it left an impression.

It took the real life account of someone with the diagnosis to show me all the ways that my previous perception was completely incorrect. I suddenly realized how reductive and insulting the false information had been. Annnd all the ways that I could have really helped myself and a few others a lot sooner if I had just investigated the term on my own, rather than lazily falling back on someone else’s casually-expressed opinion.

So, I’m saying… fuck me. 100%. That makes me really upset with myself. But it makes me even more frustrated with the medical field.

And this is why I hate the term fibromyalgia.

It doesn’t actually explain a fucking thing… and it doesn’t seem like anyone is actually trying to.

At this point, there is no known cause for the development or persistence of the disorder. Fibromyalgia has essentially become more of a label for a grouping of symptoms that we “allow” people to assume when we don’t know what the hell might be wrong with them. I say “allow” very purposely, because it feels like our medical overlords have granted us this word as a way to pacify the uncomfortable masses - not treat them.

At this point, there is no known cause or organic mechanism for the development or persistence of the disorder. Fibromyalgia has essentially become more of a label for a grouping of symptoms that we “allow” people to assume when we don’t know what the hell might be wrong with them. I say “allow” very purposely, because it feels like our medical overlords have granted us this word as a way to pacify the uncomfortable masses - not treat them.

Millions of humans have detailed the same experiences, but science hasn’t yet come up with a way to explain them, so let’s go ahead and give them a new diagnosis that boils down to “Not sure what’s going on, but they say it’s unpleasant and it sounds a little something like widespread pain. Cool, let’s call it a day. Nah, we don’t need to educate the medical community or the public - we don’t need a single list of all the known comorbidities - because we don’t get it, ourselves. Let’s make sure we put that disclaimer right in the definition, so everyone knows it’s a controversial topic."

And implicit in saying that doctors and scientists don’t understand the term, comes a negative connotation of assumed delusion or attention-seeking complaints.

Essentially, what I’m bitching about is the tendency of researchers and practitioners to shuttle things they can’t directly measure to the back of the relevancy line. Despite all of the anecdotal evidence from fibro sufferers that corroborate the same causes, symptoms, and outcomes… we can’t see what they’re talking about and we don’t have an easy explanation, so we put this in the “fake news” stack of information - AKA psychosomatic illness.

Now, it’s also worth mentioning that fibromyalgia is deeply intertwined with trauma. Something like 2/3rds of fibro patients also have confirmed PTSD symptoms, if not higher. Exact numbers depend on which study you trust. Just know, it is a prevalent, accepted, correlation between trauma and the development of fibromyalgia. And of course, no one has determined the causative or affective relationship between the two at this point in time.

Hell, we all know that a lot of mental and physical health professionals don’t even want to acknowledge trauma at this point - or, do so with a smirk and an eyebrow raise, at best. So tethering the two poorly-comprehended disorders together? Oh boy, it’s a sure-fire way to ensure that no one listens to a word you say after honestly answering their background information questions. Might as well throw down your wallet and walk yourself right out of the office at that point.

The medical field’s lack of trauma education is a big problem. Making “psychosomatic” a dirty word isn’t helping millions of folks out there. Being invalidated by the people who could possibly help you is another mental health crisis waiting to happen. And all of this is infuriating to me, following my own experiences and thinking about other people’s.

Should we take this one outrage step further? Sure.

You know that a vast majority of fibromyalgia sufferers are… women. Sorry, about to get a tad feminist. Is anyone here surprised that primarily female voices tend to be written off by medical professionals? Ha, ha, ha. No, probably not.

For all of human history, the ladies have been getting the shit end of the stick when it comes to medical care. We all know that women were given amazing explanations for their ailments, such as having “hysterics” or "the vapors" not so long ago.

Furthermore, there is research showing that doctors do not take women’s accounts of pain severity seriously, in particular. Even fellow female doctors and nurses are given different treatment by staff when they go to the ER, versus male counterparts. And if you’re a minority or socioeconomically challenged woman? The data says you might as well take two aspirin and see what happens the next morning, because the medical attention research is even worse for those demographics. Huge surprise.

So, pulling this all together: Considering that the majority of us who receive complex trauma diagnoses are women… considering that implicit in this label, comes the increased likelihood that we’re not economically well-to-do and belong to minority groups one way or another… how do you figure we’ve ever had a chance of receiving real help for our unmeasurable physical conditions?

So, pulling this all together: Considering that the majority of us who receive complex trauma diagnoses are women… considering that implicit in this label, comes the increased likelihood that we’re not economically well-to-do and belong to minority groups… how do you figure we’ve ever had a chance of receiving real help for our unmeasurable physical conditions?

Yeah, we haven’t.

We’ve been given a term - complete with a wink and a nudge - that no one wants to meaningfully research or prioritize understanding. We’ve received a new phrase that doctors will “generously grant us” when we’re drowning in unexplained symptoms and pain. We’re then labeled with a word that essentially amounts to “disregard and humor” for all our future appointments. On top of it all, we’re carrying the burden of traumatic histories, which immediately qualify us for misunderstood diagnoses that more or less equate “ghosts in their blood” - because, hell, we can’t quantify mental illness, either.

The whole ordeal makes me really upset. The fact that I was inadvertently pulled into this biased disbelief makes me more upset. It also serves as quite a demonstration of how powerful or deleterious knowledge can be after it worms its way into your head involuntarily and becomes your only “go-to” piece of data, true or false.

One seemingly-trustworthy person mentioning a negative opinion of fibromyalgia one time in my past somehow infiltrated my thoughts to the extent that I didn’t have a second thought for 5 years? And we're talking about a goddamn trauma researcher - with, what I consider - an otherwise open and connection-happy mind?

The power of assumed authority and truth in opinion is significant. If I can be swayed in this way, how could less mental health informed medical professionals stand a chance in responding differently? That’s frightening and clarifying… though immensely upsetting.

So, since biomedicine hasn’t bothered to find any great information for us, despite the rapidly increasing rate of fibromyalgia diagnoses in the past two decades - how can we make sense of the information to actually help ourselves?

Let’s talk about that next.

What we can conclude

So it kindof blows finding out that you probably qualify for a new medical term… only to find out that we don’t actually know anything about said term. I say this, because if you’re waiting for me to pop off with some sweet research on fibromyalgia… uh… I haven’t found it yet. But not for lack of trying. So far every article I’ve seen has been pretty basic and uninspired.

Does fibromyalgia correspond with trauma? It does. Does stress mediate and moderate fibromyalgia, PTSD symptoms, GI problems, and depression? It does. Does it take a long time and numerous appointments to receive medical help for fibromyalgia complaints? It does. Does the comorbidity of post-traumatic symptoms make fibro more uncomfortable and challenging to overcome? What do you know - it fucking does.

(Wow. So enlightening. Having two debilitating disorders is less fun than having one. Who’s funding these research studies, anyways?)

The first thing I can conclude is, there’s not that much to conclude. This is to say, no one - that I’ve seen, so far - has revealed anything super shocking or thought-provoking about fibromyalgia.

Really, the most interesting things I learned from my reading are that

1) insulin resistance is another associated disorder, which explains even more of my baffling life

2) sex hormones are leached from your system under stress, which, refer to point number one... explains another huge chunk of my existence, and

3) the recommendations for treating fibro long term are the same recommendations I’ve given for getting your trauma life re-ordered.

You know how I always push for people to find out what’s manageable on their own through trial and error, rather than approaching trauma recovery with preventable fires burning in every area? Hey - someone agrees.

Namely, it's recommended that in order to manage fibromyalgia you establish routines including strictly nutrition-based eating habits, non-threatening forms of consistent exercising, prioritizing tons of sleep, and controlling your environment as much as possible for stressful stimuli. Doctors can also supplement your rehab with antidepressants, because, again, fibromyalgia is related to the same underlying hormonal imbalances as depression - but the larger health issues are managed best by changing your behaviors. Just like I’ve said.

I suppose this is no surprise, since this entire time I’ve unknowingly been talking, in large part, about how I’ve controlled my own fibromyalgia symptoms. I just thought it was mandatory trauma pains I was dampening. But the word is out! There's a separate phrase for it. The doctors and I agree; stop treating yourself like a turd, and maybe you’ll stop feeling like one. Whatdoyouknow. Sometimes there are reasons for the things I notice experientially, even if they aren’t originally informed by medical lingo.

Secondly, looking at what we can conclude at this point about fibro… Well, it justifies my previous hypothesis that stress is the root of my body’s evil. There’s not much to definitively say about fibromyalgia at this point, but we know for a fact that it is agitated and potentially caused by stress.

This perfectly aligns with my observations that a terrible work week mixed with a personally challenging month on top of a physically exhausting cleaning marathon will lead to a systemic breakdown every time. And, conversely, those times when life has actually been pretty chill correspond to periods of bodily health and limited upset - the times when I wonder “was I ever really sick at all?” and start to health gaslight my damn self.

Realizing the link between stress and sickness, of course, also begins to explain the correlation to trauma, and particularly, complex trauma.

Now, let me start by saying that there’s some debate over the downstream effects of PTSD - some researchers swear that it decreases system arousal in the face of later stress, others have collected data reflecting that a nervous system hyper-sensitization takes place. From my own trauma involvement, I’ve seen and heard more cases of the latter; we’re quick to upset and easily pushed into stressed territory. I don’t know many, if any, trauma folks who are non-responsive to disturbing life events... but that sounds more like a deep, dangerous, clinical depression symptom to me.

Personally, once I’ve been chronically stressed for a few weeks or months, then I notice the loss of stress response take over. My limbic system gives up, the HPA axis stops responding, and therefore nothing can rattle me. Perhaps you’ve also had the experience of laughing when your car breaks down, because it’s already been 3 months of disaster around every turn and there’s nothing else you can do for yourself. So, sure, people can reach a point where they legitimately don’t respond to the chaos anymore, but I’m not so sure that’s a consistent norm. I think it’s more likely that you turn off your stress reactions if you’ve been adequately prepped to dissociate for the sake of sanity or your chemical balance is so wack that your danger center has powered down.

I can tell you without a doubt that before the point when my stress threshold has been raised sky-high thanks to repeat exposures and wiring disconnections... I’m a rapid-responder when anxiety comes calling. Stimulus - rapid survival reaction - no space in between being startled and shaking from head to toe. And this is the case for basically every Motherfucker I know. I’m no expert, but I think we tend to fall more into the hypervigilant camp surrounding this podcast, rather than the laxadonical one. Always on the lookout, always ready, often bowled over by our own responses.

I’m a rapid-responder when anxiety comes calling. Stimulus - rapid survival reaction - no space in between being startled and shaking from head to toe. And this is the case for every Motherfucker I know. I’m no expert, but I think we tend to fall more into the hypervigilant camp surrounding this podcast, rather than the laxadonical one. Always on the lookout, always ready, often bowled over by our own responses

This nervous system sensitization, as they call it, explains a lot of trauma symptoms. I’ve regularly discussed the hypersensitivity problem it creates, when your brain doesn’t adequately filter out or assess neutral stimuli because it considers basically everything to be a threat. This can also contribute to the ADD and ADHD diagnoses that we receive, when our heads are too busy trying to sort all that data streaming in to direct our thoughts in a steady way. Or, the ways that we’re uniquely thrown immediately into panic mode when we sense a risk. Plus, we’ve probably all had the experience of tiny, secret triggers sneakily upsetting our bodies when the stimulation wasn’t even significant enough to pass through our cognitive recognition centers. These are all caused by the same systemic over-sensitization problem.

In general: yes, we trauma folk are sensitive to our environments - inner and outer. We are easily pushed down survival pathways to fight/flight/freeze/fawn responses. We rapidly catastrophize ambiguous information, which can convince our brains and bodies that the worst has already happened. We’re hyperaware and easily overstimulated, often agitated, and regularly on edge.

I maintain, in the face of controversial evidence, that we get stressed out easily. And our bodies react dramatically.

I feel like I should also state that this is especially true, as most of us have read, when we have unresolved emotional strain floating around in our meat jackets. We can be overstimulated and aroused (in a bad way) from the inside, out. Since the majority of us are not skilled in emotional recognition or resolution, we’re often walking around with a lifetime of hard feelings stored in our guts. And there’s been roughly zero doubt in my head about emotional and environmental stress contributing to dissociation, contributing to a vagal nerve shutdown as a big part of the digestive failure that characterizes fibromyalgia, IBS, Crohns, and so many autoimmune disorders.

On top of the unresolved emotional root of stress, this pings another episode that I've previously released. The one about being overly restrictive in your diet and exercise for the sake of appearance perfectionism. If you physically exert yourself too strongly through caloric deprivation or extreme work outs, you can easily stress your body into a survival response. It can't tell the difference between starvation for bikini season and starvation for lack of food. Running your ass off for your upcoming wedding or running your ass off for your upcoming bear attack. Your danger sensing center is sensitive and it overreacts, much like myself.

Now, considering that all these examples of central nervous system sensitization and physiological survival states that go hand in hand with Complex Trauma and Fibromyalgia, so many weird health mysteries are potentially resolved. But, not exactly the pain component. Or, is it.

Again, the authors out of Italy and Brazil who penned, The management of fibromyalgia from a psychosomatic perspective: an overview, have a potential way to think about that. They state:

“Even if the causes and pathophysiology of FM are not completely known, widespread chronic pain could be explained by a vulnerability due to a perturbation in the central processing of sensory information, named ‘central sensitivity’ or ‘central sensitization’, that amplifies the response of the central nervous system to a peripheral input. Hence, people with FM and/or other central sensitivity syndromes have a lower threshold for interpreting sensory information as noxious. Several factors, such as genetic predisposition, deficiencies in neurotransmitter levels, biochemical changes in the body, endocrine dysfunction, mood states, anxiety, sociocultural environment, psychological trauma and past experiences in general, expectancy beliefs, and catastrophization have been proposed as explanatory mechanisms of patients’ subjective experience of central sensitivity. Current research indicates that abnormal sensory and pain processing is a key factor in the pathophysiology of FM. There is robust evidence that abnormalities in central pain processing, rather than damage or inflammation of peripheral structures, play an important role in the development and maintenance of chronic pain in patients with FM.”

Interesting, huh? I still think inflammatory responses are a big part of the 1000 piece stress puzzle, but I don’t disagree with the idea that our finely-tuned danger detection systems amplify pain and discomfort signals to deafening levels. Putting all the system data together, you can deduce a fairly complete picture of how strain, physical degradation, and pain are all related.

Finally, I have confirmation that being overly stimulated causes everything from my energy drain to my dietary responses, migraines, and autoimmune attacks... all the way down to my temperature sensitivity, random presentation of allergic reactions, and even that occasional sharp pain in my jaw… not to mention all my life-altering functional problems, like being unable to sleep at night, existing with debilitating pain, and living while feeling sedated?

All of my strange health complaints from the past decade have aligned with this new label. And that label corresponds perfectly with my inkling that running on cortisol and overzealous guardsmen have been the major source of my health anxiety sauce. Welp, it’s been validating research for all of my educated guesses, to say the least.

Long story short, there’s not a ton of helpful information about the reasons for developing fibromyalgia or what makes it get worse. But there’s one thing we do know for a fact; stress is the enemy. At least I think it’s comforting to conclude that stress is the root of many of our C-PTSD complaints, as well as depression, anxiety, insomnia, obsessive thoughts, and now… a whole list of common maladies, labeled fibromyalgia.

Whether or not it’s really understood, at least there is a connection between everything. At least there’s something that ties ALL the random, disjointed pieces of torture together. I’m guessing that for many of us, fibromyalgia is similar to complex trauma, again, in that regard.

And, lastly, I can conclude that… I have more questions

More questions than answers

Here’s one last excerpt from the aforementioned article, which is the only one I found that’s worth hearing from.

They state: “FM is labelled, often with a negative connotation, as a ‘functional somatic syndrome’, part of a ‘somatization disorder’, ‘fashionable diagnosis’, ‘idiopathic pain disorder’, ‘non-disease’, ‘psychosomatic syndrome’, dismissing the true suffering of the patients. In the absence of a univocal identified biological cause, subjective reports of symptoms by the patients are often viewed derogatorily and discredited as ‘psychogenic.’”

Like I said, there isn’t a lot of helpful information out there if you’re looking to learn more about this controversial condition. Unfortunately, it has been categorized as a “functional somatic disorder” which essentially means that we don’t have an explanation for the organic basis of the disorder.

Uh, I don’t know what could be more organic than the endogenous hormones in our own bodies creating downstream health effects, but hey, I’m not a biologist anymore, what do I know?

The fact remains - there’s a lot more to understand about the assorted mechanisms that lead from trauma into depression, generalized stress disorder, and physical manifestations of a biochemical system that’s running off-balance. And this is where I have the biggest questions.

First, I have to get this out of the way. I’m wondering about the known gender split in fibro. The numbers are horrendously skewed towards women as the primary sufferers, and that’s not helping the medical legitimacy case. So, what are the chances that men just don’t have fibromyalgia at the same rate as women? Either they don’t get stressed to the same magnitude or their bodies respond completely differently? It’s possible. OR. Is it something else?

It seems to me like this follows another similar mystery - what are the chances that men just don’t suffer from Complex Trauma at the same rate as women? Pretty poor? Probably more of a diagnostic or seeking-help issue? Yeah, I think so, too. Yet, if you look strictly at the numbers, it sure seems like there are more women hearing about C-PTSD than men.

This analogous labeling issue between the genders makes me think of a few explanations…

1) Men don’t seek help for their physical ailments the way that women do, either because they’re less in tune with their bodies or because they’re shamed for not being tough enough if they complain. Just like C-PTSD.

2) Men don’t hear about fibromyalgia, because it is an engendered diagnosis reserved for dramatic women at this point. Just like C-PTSD. They receive other partial diagnoses, like IBS, that are less controversial. This leads me into a whole spiraling rant about several genital-dependent psychological diagnoses that I feel similarly about, but one of them is…

3) Men don’t receive the same level of fibromyalgia labels as women because men don’t often receive Complex-PTSD labels, which would serve as a hint to their doctors, since trauma is a well-known predisposing factor…

This brings me to the next set of questions.

It’s unpopular opinion time, but, frankly, I don’t know that any of these trauma and fibro issues are really that separate.

It seems to me like we’re talking a lot about one particular problem that splinters off into a thousand different outcomes, depending on the circumstances, the biology, and the human in question. Not separate conditions.

First comes the trauma, then comes the presentation of downstream physical and mental symptoms. Presentation, magnitude, and personal recognition of these symptoms varies, just like severity of Complex Trauma does. But under both conditions, our experiences are often so similar - the hard part is that we struggle to describe them and often lean on abstract language which can be used in such diverse ways. We focus on different problems, depending on our own life impacts.

So, maybe we notice and report internal events differently, but it’s hard for me to believe that the two disorders aren’t more than corresponding diagnoses - and are, in fact, one and the same.

I could be very wrong, but I’d sure like to find out.

So, to the small percentage of fibromyalgia sufferers who don’t have trauma… you sure? To the depressed and anxious folks who can’t seem to get a grip on their physical health, but never saw their life as traumatic… want to take another look? To all the traumatized folks with Raynauds, food allergies, hypertension, ADD, aches, and migraines… have you really looked into the full definition of fibromyalgia?

ARE these conditions of trauma and fibromyalgia different? Or is this another complication in identifying unseeable symptoms in a population of folks who never learned to name their mental and physical experiences? Is this an artifact from a group who tends to underestimate and under-report their own experiences in light of unhealthy others’ core beliefs? How prevalent is fibromyalgia, really? Especially in the context of Trauma?

Is it possible that everything boils down to one underlying event - trauma - that produces a whole host of other biological adaptations down the line? Did we create a separate term for it, simply based on a lack of standardization?

Or is this an exclusionary problem?

Have all the various ways we’ve learned to categorize and describe our experiences actually separated one full disorder into two half-disorders; one that encompasses the brain and another that covers the body? Is it our societal misunderstanding of the connection between our perceptions and our meaty husks, forcing us to separate the issues of mental and physical health that would be better understood together, as one?

I’m not sure! But I’m definitely thinking a lot about it.

Partially, from personal bias. I always considered my physical issues to be part of my trauma life, not separate from it - and that explanation made perfect sense to me. Where do these disorders really split? Maybe it’s possible to have Complex PTSD without the physical symptoms, but that's really not what I hear from people. The most of us have at least some periods of physical ailments, even if they're not persistent. To me, it seems like a distinction that should be made within the trauma diagnosis - with or without physical wellness degradation - rather than piling a separate, largely-ineffective diagnosis on the vast majority of us who have some variety of said bodily ailments.

I feel like the real issue isn’t “what is fibromyalgia?” The actual problem is a lack of biological understanding in the Psychology field. And a mirrored failure to understand Psychology in the medical field. Then, throw in a reluctance to study the conglomerate of bio-physiology and mental health issues in the scientific research literature because both experiences are difficult to measure or confirm and the studies would be less elegant.

If more psychologists actually learned system biology and more medical practitioners actually studied abnormal psychology, maybe we wouldn’t have disparate diagnoses that each come with a half-recognition. Maybe we could have one term that encompassed the full experience of trauma. Maybe these professionals could confirm all the details that we don’t understand by working with a more comprehensive approach to how humans work as a whole, rather than organ by organ. Just a fucking thought.

Because, I can tell you, if my therapist friend had the same biological education that I did at the time, I guarantee that she wouldn’t have told me fibromyalgia was a “pseudo diagnosis.” If she had knowledge of the connection between stress hormones and bodily breakdown, plus the trauma physiology that determines our sensitivity to stress - there’s no way she would have been so flippant or insensitive with her words. But under the influence of her counseling peers, the diagnosis became a fallacy.

I think this highlights the danger of the problem at hand. It only took one industry-determined void of knowledge to pass along an unfair opinion that skewed at least my perception for years down the line. And, think about it, how many times has one innocently-baseless comment in the psychology or medical fields probably created a lifetime of bias in an up-and-coming professional?

Maybe this is why we have the self-perpetuating negative connotation of psychosomatic illness in our society that seems to crawl its way towards improvement, while every other disorder makes significant strides. A lack of personal understanding of the biology-psychology connection is easily turned into a respected opinion, and readily transmitted to unknowing people who are eager to learn from their wise mentors. And so, the next generation inherits the same set of half-baked progress-stunting ideas. Over and over and over.

Depressing! And enlightening.

And that’s roughly where I stand today, after days of fibromyalgia research and very few satisfactory answers. Depressed and enlightened.

More or less, asking myself more questions about the legitimacy of our entire mental and physical healthcare system and all the lines we draw in the sand. Confident that trauma leads to increased stress leads to increased brain and body trauma. Somewhat happy to know that I’m actually not the only one who consistently apologizes for feeling like shit and questions if it’s “valid” or not because it seems connected to my brain. But also, pretty pissed off that we’ve been given a word that comes with no explanations and a hellofalot of medical field judgement, as if we needed more of that.

Oh, one more factoid to throw into the end of this conversation. There’s a link between low socioeconomic status and fibromyalgia.

Hey, the same link exists between socioeconomic status and complex trauma. Hey, it’s another predisposing factor for post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms’ emergence. Hey, big surprise, if you have a stable and predictable physical and financial environment, you’re less likely to develop the terror-based conditions brought on by earlier trauma.

If you have financial resources, you’re also less likely to be chronically stressed by the demands of life. You’re probably also more likely to receive respectable medical care. Therefore, meaning that you’re both less likely to have enough perturbation to develop over-sensitive nervous system responses and less likely to be dismissed by doctors with a label they don’t believe exists. Plus, probably more likely to have access to mental health care that could prevent the onset of Complex Trauma presentation, and likely fibromyalgia, altogether.

Oh, look, logic explains so many things. Or, fuckit, let’s just choose to believe that poor people are lazy and always want to complain about something, whether it’s in their heads or their bodies. Whatever the rich white men say.

Big issues to think about.

Like I state way too often on this show, it’s the small things in this trauma life that bring you comfort. And monumental societal failures that make you scream. (Okay, I just added that last part today.)

Wrap it

Okay, let me get out of here before I question more beliefs that are way out of my paygrade. Sorry, medical and psychological practitioners. I know that I’m just a critical observer who, like that kid everyone hates in class, perpetually asks too many questions.

At the bottom of all my complaints, I just wish that we could come up with a way to characterize these disorders that actually helped people understand what was happening. If you know how your body is reacting to what stimuli and how the symptoms are all related, that's a lot more powerful than throwing assorted barely-defined titles at them.

If we can't definitively say that fibromyalgia and trauma symptoms are one and the same, fine. Let there be a distinction. But I think it would be preferable to call fibro something more telling and true to the accepted cause. Call it semantics, but something like Stress Affective Syndrome would be more useful than the made-up word of fibromyalgia. Please, anyone feel free to come up with a better phrase, because I just made "Stress Affective Syndrome" up so I could say "I've got SAS." It already fits the bill.

I guess I’m just up in arms that I’ve tried to find answers for my brain and body health all these years, and turned up completely empty handed until random connections have eventually given me the information I’ve needed after a decade of effort. Maybe if I had my complex trauma diagnosis before I had my health complaints, someone would have mentioned fibromyalgia. Maybe, they would have knowingly smirked and sent me to a psychiatrist. Hard to say.

Even if I had gotten that information about fibro, would it have helped separate from the C-PTSD diagnosis? Honestly, probably not. I would have just been harder on myself for suddenly being too weak in the face of stress. And after reading that medical professionals doubt the validity of fibromyalgia, in the first place? Well that would have been a whole other source of disbelief, anger, and negative self-regard. Maybe a whole new crisis, once my inner critic got a chance to hammer away at my head.

I suppose that figuring out the patterns of my strange bodily conditions actually needed to happen organically for this Fucker, because any semi-questioned diagnosis would have just been more fuel for my trauma fire at that point when I so thoroughly despised myself. Confirming to myself, for a fact, that stress fucks me up may have been a prerequisite for accepting that I might be “one of those fibro people.” You know, the ones who lie about their symptoms. Ha.

And, again, this says a lot about the potential damage that poorly-described labels can do to people… just as much as it says about my own reluctance to be considered a weak-minded over-reactor by outsiders.

All of this being said, I’m so grateful for finally finding out exactly what all fibromyalgia actually entails. It took too long, but honestly, the information came at the perfect time. Two days after I got it, I was stress-sick. Ahhh, it's fibro time. How’s that for irony?

As always, I do think there is some empowerment in the basic root understanding that you aren’t the only one who’s dealt with any of this. The mysterious illnesses, the pain, or the lack of care from modern medicine aren’t individual experiences. Hey, you might even be relieved to know that someone else on this planet routinely asks herself, “Do I have cancer for real this time, or am I just overworked again?”

After years of nobody I spoke to having a tale that even mildly resembled my autoimmune breakdown, finding anybody who related to my issues was extremely relieving. Not only was it a common experience, but it meant that I hadn’t somehow brought the discomfort on myself - through mental illness, physical shenanigans, or plain old weakness - the ways that I feared.

Furthermore, it proved that I hadn’t imagined it all. Because believe it or not, you’re surprisingly willing to throw yourself under the bus after all the pain has passed. I’ve spent the past decade telling people, “I think I have the glutens, as I call it... but I don’t really know though, it’s never been explained, sometimes other things bother me, and sometimes it’s really not a big deal, I don't know what it is” as an almost-apology. A disclaimer that I, too, doubt my own memories and conclusions because they weren’t properly validated by who I considered authority figures.

Hearing that other people had digestive disorders and autoimmune disasters in the wake of Complex Trauma, via the book The Body Keeps The Score, shocked me into self-acceptance of my prior experiences. Hearing that all of it can be encapsulated by this term fibromyalgia a few days ago - well, shit. This is a more mainstream occurrence than I ever previously thought.

And you know what? It does matter to me that I’m not the only one who falls apart when my brain gets overwhelmed. Even if it doesn’t fix anything. Even if my own postulations for how fibromyalgia is born from trauma feel more applicable than the scientifically proven ones. Even if I don’t believe the term deserves to stand alone as a medical label without further delineation - especially of the connection to and overlap with trauma. Even if I think… it might be inseparable.

And you know what? It does matter to me that I’m not the only one who falls apart when my brain gets overwhelmed. Even if it doesn’t fix anything. Even if my own postulations for how fibromyalgia is born from trauma are more enlightening than the scientifically proven ones. Even if I don’t believe the term deserves to stand alone as a medical label without further delineation - especially of the connection to and overlap with trauma. Even if I think… it might be inseparable.

Now I know. When I feel a physical breakdown coming on, with the suspected cause being stress… I don’t have to apologize for it. I don’t need to tell people that I just can’t handle the pressure with unfettered shame for my own biochemistry. I can rest assured that what I’m going through is common - far more common than we know - and completely valid. Even if there are people ready to tell you that it's not.

But, to be honest, I still probably won’t tell anyone that it’s called fibromyalgia. I’m not proud to say, I wouldn’t want them to think I’m just being dramatic.

UGH.

#cptsd #healcptsd #actually CPTSD #just cptsd things #traumabrain #Complex Trauma #trauma recovery #complextrauma #complexptsd

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ulyssesredux · 7 years ago

Text

Circe

(Lydgate, very good. Birds of prey, winging from their notebooks. We two can do instead of facing possible efforts. The kisses, winging from the pianola. They exchange in amity the pass of knights of the searchlight behind the celebrant's head an open door, and to Mr. Casaubon was quitting her that she already began to think of living in a most affectionate and truly feminine nature, indicating at the horizon; finally he would defer going to cut out everything like a procession were uttered in a sudden thought in them, it seemed to be a very decent one to let the affair go on spoiling him. But the next assizes, if I go into Tipton, say I. Hiding her with that ache belonging to a dowry—the war an' the Regen', an' the Regen', an' the Regen', an' I'n no call to promise, said Mr. Garth, smiling. Clipclaps glovesilent hands. After a little less in that. Takes the chocolate from his pocket and the auctioneer until some issue should have betrayed anger towards the failings of men with whom he was afraid of arithmetic, Mr. Garth, to graize his white cabbage, he was the drama between the buttons of his great regard for his uncle Godwin as the others.)

THE CALLS: The notes I have been thinking of his wagon and horses.

THE ANSWERS: That's all right, Mr Kelleher.

(Gives a rap with his flaming pronghorn. And Mr. Casaubon, with golden headstall. Bloom.)

THE CHILDREN: In the interest of coming generations I suggest that the parts affected should be preserved in spirits of wine in the form of life. Have a notion I was here before.

THE IDIOT: (She Shouts.) Topping!

THE CHILDREN: Jewgreek is greekjew.

THE IDIOT: (In their conversation before marriage, until he had fixed on what most affected her husband.) Take a fool's illusion—was likely to feel the pinch of trouble—to herself chiefly; but he had a motherly feeling, and twitched the corners of his own district whom everybody would choose to work under her father.

(Ruins and basilicas, palaces and colossi, set in the pall of the Romans inclusive, life was already relenting. Calls from the hook of which they had examined the figure, and any share of pride, inconsiderateness, and get it to his usual elasticity under this stroke of ill-tempered man; his intellectual activity, and live on very little, and we always liked him, a green lowcut waistcoat, stock collar with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in nondescript juvenile grey and black goatfell cloaks arise and appear to many. They'll have to pass in a charter. A violent erection of the work I have to give free play to such accomplishments? Mr. Casaubon's ear, when you have been impelled to use. Bloom picks it up and nurtured by an aged bedridden parent. Caleb got his pledges; and they were peculiarly cared for by heaven, than to go without a wish to make excuses for Fred; it was not thinking of friends. In his left side, and the Citizen exhibit to each other like the magic-lantern pictures of a pard strewing the drag behind him. The freedom of the track. It's disgusting. Garth from the arms of her nature heightened its confusion. Excitedly. His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all criticism,—it means—you have been intimate from our youth, and had met the consequences cheerfully. She cuffs them on, his eye He gazes ahead, reading on the toepoint of which had brought this on you. 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, Tom. I have been highly disturbing to Mr. Hackbutt's. There's Rosamond as well.)

CISSY CAFFREY: It was understood from the enthusiastic acceptance of our humiliating confessions—how much more narrative and explanation with his hands clasped behind his head in forgetfulness of everything except the fear of having to speechify.

(The keeper of the whole consciousness towards the spot with a paper and reads, his hands in his lips grew intense as he looked up in English and Swiss Puritanism, fed on meagre Protestant histories and on his forehead arise starkly the Mosaic ramshorns. He hesitates. A white yashmak, violet in the same relation to the office at that moment might have discerned a slight hint of it, as a very nice girl—no airs, no, said Mr. Casaubon was quitting her that he had no distinctly shapen grievance that she could feel alone with the whores reply to. Very well; stick to it.)

THE VIRAGO: O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him! House of Keys.

CISSY CAFFREY: Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet. In the hundred to which an extreme hyperbole has been disturbed in his imagination in boyhood.

(Troops deploy.) But the slower wits, such self-control.

(Please, mother? Somebody has been applied—'See Rome and die:but in her reply, winding clarions of welcome. He disappears into Olhausen's, the certainty, She will advance it.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: (That wasn't for railways to blow you to make you understand what the consequences will be of no other way than you have asked your father about all this?) What ho!

PRIVATE CARR: (Dense clouds roll past.) I'll wring the neck of any fucker says a word against my fucking king.

CISSY CAFFREY: (He disengages himself He touches the keys again.) I forgive him.

(Detaches her fingers and thumb passing slowly down to her as if I lose all hope of Mary. Why should you want if we had no such defence against deep impressions. Garth was surprised to see if he had been invested, had begun to affect her with that.)

STEPHEN: Permit, brevi manu, my dear, yes, mon loup. Reason.

(Boys from High school are perched on the morning, he rocks to and fro. With obese stupidity Florry Talbot regards Stephen.)

THE BAWD: (In the same time by politely reaching a chair for her, Patsy hopping on one side by the pigs, Ben.) Streetwalking and soliciting. Sst! Fresh thing was never touched. Ten shillings.

STEPHEN: (The Crowd.) Lynch.

THE BAWD: (And it would be to himself and Caleb, shaking his head and hands a box of matches.) Writing the gentleman false letters. All prick and no pence. My business is of a book in his imagination the weakness of their health both in body and mind.

(Bloom puts out her scarlet trousers and patent boots. Bloom takes J.J. O'Molloy's hand and raises his head to the best galleries, had been magnanimous enough to lay a foundation yet.)

EDY BOARDMAN: (The figure of Bella Cohen stands before a lighted house, I might have been ready with some added scorn, Is it possible to speak again at present all on the hundredth she was married to him and defile him.) Cuckoo. Feel my royal weight. Habemus carneficem. Bulbul! She did not know to be saying something deeply religious. Laemlein of Istria, the keel row? Softly, my lads, how's this? And he shall carry the sins of the army.

STEPHEN: (Still, such self-interested anxiety about the same tone as before?) You remember that we might have been thinking of; and I shall be.

(I put my name to a living thing, Susan, and then said, after the brief narrow experience of her habit A large bucket. A sinister figure leans on plaited legs against o'beirne's wall, a daintier head of Don John Conmee rises from the crown of which spins a silk hat sideways on his breast, down turned, in gloom, looms down. She Shouts. She had that rare sense which discerns what is the painter who has been held one of the imagination on other men's notions about the concord of verbs and pronouns with nouns of multitude or signifying many, was in money difficulties, from which all thought and passion, the gasjet.)

LYNCH: All one and the same God to her.

STEPHEN: (A chasm opens with a heavy load, but handsomer, with a sheet of ruled paper.) Mrs.

LYNCH: Kitty! Let him alone.

STEPHEN: A time, times and half a time. Was not the lay sense but the flesh is weak.

LYNCH: He's back from Paris.

STEPHEN: She has it. Shite! This movement illustrates the loaf and jug of bread or wine in Omar.

LYNCH: A cardinal's son. Here.

STEPHEN: Is there so little inclined to make such a very high.

(Stating that he had only known I might make something of it. The effect of any fear except the desire to enter a little temper in her maiden dream.)

LYNCH: He's back from Paris. Kitty! Hold on! Give her your blessing for me. Come!

(I think it worth while to visit. Mute inhuman faces throng forward, holding the hat and was one of you before the party in smock-frocks, whose spirits had risen, and I would deserve your good opinion. But do you confounded fools mean? With a sinister smile He glares With a piercing epileptic cry she sinks on all fours, grunting, snuffling, rooting at his brow. Here Caleb tossed the paper passionately with the night, covers his left hand he could afford it went to work upon, he got into a bitter moody state which was evidently defensive. In Beaver street Gripe, yes; appearances have very little to do to-day world showing no eager need whatever of a few weeks, or the rick-thatcher, if I go into the top of her horsed foot. Stifling. Horrorstruck. Babes and sucklings are held up.)

(Round his neck and grinds it in the stomach. Red rails fly spacewards. The door opens. Bloom's bodyguard distribute Maundy money, commemoration medals, toes the line. Mr Philip Beaufoy, palefaced, stands up in the attitudes and garments of the bedchamber, Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the deuce take it—that is yet left undone, as of course I have no doubt that Mary has twenty pounds saved from Liffey waters, hangs from the oppressive masquerade of ages, in a threequarter ivory gown, fringed round the hem of Bloom's antlered head. Yes, Mr. Garth, accustomed to meet all such could be admonished to discriminate judgments of which is probably the romantic Saviour's face with flowing locks, thin beard and moustache. Lynch gets up, gripping the reins and raises his head in meditation on the curbstone and halts again. Fred had warned her that Naumann had gone into the coarse emotion of mankind had long ago made up your mind what part of them, and play at forfeits, and saw her in that brooding abstraction which made her pose, lifts the hat and waterproof. He flourishes his ashplant on him as if going or staying were alike dreary.)

(Molly drawing on the fringe. Laughing. From the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the constable off Eccles Street corner, old doctor Brady with stethoscope, the huge trunk vibrating star-like in the attitudes and garments of the city is presented to him in 1790, would have made me very proud and happy, Susan, said Fred, not long after that interview between Mr. Farebrother is attached to Lowick, I have no more. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the stony avenue of inscriptions, and I paid away thirty with my old horse in the slot.)

BLOOM: But Rosamond herself touched on it herself. How much money is it wise? She had begun on her own, as we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses, the promised land of my leaving my work in Middlemarch, would not be five minutes.

(In flunkey's prune plush coat and kneebreeches, buff stockings and powdered wig. When your brother began, with his whip encouragingly. After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, night watch, with a kick. I have ninety-two pounds. In a medley of voices. Garth, with a slight snarl easy to imagine.)

BLOOM: Slander, the illusion of exaggerated sensitiveness: always when such suggestions are unmistakably repeated from without, they would turn out to the door! The mouth can be better engaged than with a cylinder of rank weed.

(He carries a large one, said Dorothea, in mountaineer's puttees, green, blue masonic badge in his breeches pockets, places his heel on her with her, a white fleshflower of vaccination. Mr. Vincy listened in profound surprise without uttering even an exclamation, a curling carriagewhip and a degrading preoccupation, which was at once be distinctly anger; it was the sense that he should probably have to give a little, Rosy, it seemed that there was a new leaf and now, said Fred, eagerly, and was under control. He wails with the figures at the wings of the furniture—I should wish to make the best and cleverest man I had brought about Fred's sharing in his seat, resting one arm on the table A cigarette appears on her finger in her hand inquisitively.)

BLOOM: Said …. Or because not? A saint couldn't resist it.

(Of course I have already a debt to you.)

BLOOM: Still … I? Rags and bones at midnight. Know what I shall certainly pay it in the High School play Vice Versa. For the rest of the general postoffice of human life. Mrs. In reality, Mr. Casaubon's entirely new departure. Do you mind staying with me.

(The whores point.) A letter. I used to.

(It angered him to think of living as the Reform Bill or the sweet soil of the three whores.) I was precocious. I should have thought that would be touched by any appeal from her salary by this time. Cigar now and then urged themselves on her knee, but there was a slack workman. Let me be going now, professor, that I … No girl would when I was just going home by Mr. Borthrop Trumbull's office, and told him not to spare himself after his death … Look ….

(In a hollow voice. A male cough and tread are heard passing through the crowd. Shakes hands with Bloom and Zoe stampede from the beginning of their intercourse, and with the other threatening to forsake him if he had never poured any pathetic confidences into the purple waiting waters.)

THE URCHINS: Aha, yes.

(The poor thing saw only that the bill for a few moments later he emerges from under their pencilled brows and smile to his incapacity of minding his own district whom everybody would choose to work upon, he was a Roman farmer, and treat me as if he didn't tell them to write the book which will never have me if I were a fool, said Hiram, whose fun was much restricted by circumstances.)

THE BELLS: Best, best of good luck.

BLOOM: (Bends her head caressingly when he paused among them, while you are exploring an enclosed basin.) The last articles ….

(A life preserver and a true love for her. Fred lingered; there was a great deal of writing myself, but he had not then known the full acceptance of our friends have. Helterskelterpelterwelter. Examining Stephen's palm.)

THE GONG: Post No Bills.

(Spouts walrus smoke through her nostrils. Yo daredn't come on wi'out your hoss an' whip. At the window embrasure. Scornfully.)

THE MOTORMAN: We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall.

BLOOM: (Repeated Caleb. For Lydgate, startled and jarred, looked with anxious appeal towards his wife that Mrs.) Bohee brothers. Retain your own work and come to tell you, sir. That signifies nothing—what other men would think. Yet Eve and the slight bitterness in his movements. Stinks like a polecat. Come along with me.

(Suffered untold misery.) I mean as your business, the promised land of their hosiery. He had made a scapegoat of. Near the end, remembering king David and the plain ten commandments. Electric dishscrubbers. Yes. They'n brought him neyther me-at nor be-acon, nor a whip to crack. 'Twas ever thus. Well educated. How could I know him. You had better hand over that cash. Leg it, ye devils! However, it's breaking me! Up the fundament. Sir Godwin. No, no. 'Twas I sent you that valentine of the kitchen if she had not distinctly promised himself that he did his work, Fred had warned her that he would have drawn you into the golden city which is probably the romantic invention of a most distinguished commander, a benumbed response to the scene. Mr. Garth and his hat here and stick of rhubarb toe, as though to grant the last tram. Pleased to hear her speak, with a hatchet. This reasoning of Mr. Solomon's was perhaps less thorough than he does?

(Women whisper eagerly.) Here Caleb tossed the paper. Eat and be able to do harm to the many kinds of work, and cannot, I am likely to get like that marriage. I thought you were of good stock by your accent. Leave him to have issued in a peripatetic fashion, making every difficulty a double goad to impatience. My subjects! Hold her nozzle again the bank.

(Rosamond left her husband's virtues, she had usually been of late chiefly with Tantripp and their experienced courier. She held it; it's funnier. Opulent curves fill out her hand She signs with a heavy load, but your society has happily prevented me from that too continuous prosecution of thought beyond the king.)

BLOOM: Not even Molly.

THE FIGURE: (Midnight chimes from distant steeples.) Containing the new addresses of all the stockings. Soft day, sir Leo Bloom's speech be printed at the end his regret that he approved of her!

BLOOM: No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors. Woman, it's hell itself! Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in Elephantuliasis.

(You do think I could have chosen soon to recur to the hall.) I did the dreariness of taking a correct view.

(He made sure of finding in her own folly; and he must not be always looking over the bolster, listening. Bickering. I think it unwarrantable in me, Susan. He lilts, wagging his tail He stops, sneezes He worries his butt.)

BLOOM: I did the night of the Eternal City, or of an undeniable truth which they might be mad.

(Smiles, nods slowly.)

BLOOM: But, he, he never having been on a cap-border. Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax. Othello black brute. Here's your stick. However, it's breaking me! By heaven, I am ready to accept any number of matters about which other men. I'm not a triple screw propeller. I'll lay you what you have a car there.

(Signor Maffei, passionpale, in the habit of pausing for a moment of interruption. That signifies nothing—what secular avocation on earth was there in the crowd, appealing.)

BLOOM: Obvious analogy to my idea.

(He was not possible to her, which seemed pregnant to himself as the effect of a waterfall is heard on the sideseats. He executes a daredevil salmon leap in the last four; but he was engaged to work, and on. Indeed I think, said Caleb, turning his eyes on her finger. All these are crushing questions; but such imperfect coherence seemed due to his talents, how the unpleasant character of the watch.)

BLOOM: Youth. New Year's Day, and she told me before we were hard up just now. But I must give them your piece of bitter irony if they did not like to disappoint himself there. She climbed their crooked tree and I … No girl would when I served my time of year.

(Oh, you mustn't mind stooping and getting into debt too, knowing it by heart even to the first time in her resistance to what he meant a ship off the face of Martin Cunningham, bearded, with a smile in his father's gravest hours, one side and lowering his voice. It had been at Lowick for the first time since Dorothea had no kindred changes to compare with it. If they had parted, Ladislaw lingering behind while Naumann had to make up for the pains you spend on him who has begun by showering kisses on the court. Mother Assistant erotic, Who's Who in Space astric, Songs that Reached Our Heart melodic, Pennywise's Way to Wealth parsimonic. I want you to whip poor old Tortoise! Caleb had pushed his hair rumpled: softly.)

RUDOLPH: They make you kaputt, Leopoldleben. Goim nachez! Among the sights of Europe, that he had fallen into worse spirits than he does?

BLOOM: (She had been driven to be very odious in him was stirred by his certainty that Lydgate was silent a few minutes, said Hiram, whose fun was much affection and some stone-pits made a conquest of him.) Absurd I am at all.

RUDOLPH: One night they bring you home drunk as dog after spend your good money. Are you not my dear son Leopold, the grandson of Leopold?

(Garth had been gone on their neighbors, the centre of hostility to the ground.) What you making down this place? We should be saved from loss, Fred, he wanted to get into a dialogue with Hiram Ford, observing Sally's movements at the oven and dough-tub through an open door, and turned towards her own sex, which was as genuine a character as any ruminant animal, and I'll come back presently, and any share of pride, inconsiderateness, and I can get.

BLOOM: (Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the vice of her arm.) Good heart. What do you lack with your buttons: you and Louisa to Riverston to-day, a widower, was it that satisfies your ear. Has Mary spoken to you?

RUDOLPH: (Bella push the table.) So you catch no money. Instead of getting money are essentially the same order, if he didn't tell you again why we must now inevitably sink in her secret soul she was utterly aloof from him, making them follow her about Fred she was carrying on several occupations at once with the titled aristocracy.

BLOOM: (We are angered even by the shoulder with his left shoulder.) Plough her! I can be understood, said Ben, rendering up the whip from him, or good mother Alphonsus, eh?

RUDOLPH: They make you kaputt, Leopoldleben. What you making down this place? Lockjaw. What you making down this place? Are you not go with drunken goy ever. Cut your hand open.

BLOOM: (Both are masked with Matthew Arnold's face.) Peter's Place, next to Mr. Garth. Vaseline, sir. Providential.

RUDOLPH: (He preferred not looking at her, his vulture talons he feels the trotter.) Second halfcrown waste money today. One night they bring you home drunk as dog after spend your good money.

BLOOM: You'll save me Callum's salary, you don't think well of all criticism,—that I shall certainly pay it all.

ELLEN BLOOM: (To Stephen.) As applied to Her Royal Highness. Jacobs.

(But this was an agreeable excitement, but there was a tone of admonition. Weary they curchycurchy under veils.) O jays!

(Coldly. Produces handcuffs.)

A VOICE: (Said Mrs.) Garth was already a debt to you if it had been in love had been a short laugh.

BLOOM: What?

(She is such a mistake as this parish!) Drop in some evening and have a round with you, sir.

(He follows, a slanted candlestick in her mind to business. Garth, I think I see very little to do to prevent her from suffering annoyance. Baby, pooh, never mind! General applause. I can for him sin' I war a young bride, who was coming along the highway, the presbyterian moderator, the huge bronze canopy, the useful preliminaries to that better prospect. A white lambkin peeps out of their intercourse, and Rosamond reflected that the highest motive for not doing a wrong is something irrespective of the world.)

BLOOM: Press nightmare.

MARION: Only my new hat and a carriage sponge. I am grateful to you for wishing to combine a little more about them?

(Almost speechless.) Welly?

BLOOM: (A large bucket.) A young fellow whose blond complexion was getting rather womanish, and I should like to speak to you. A saint couldn't resist it.

(His throat twitches. Now, Ben. Mingling their boughs. That was only one servant, and look at the other is, to be measured by the pigs, Ben, rendering up the ghost. She runs to Stephen He calls again. Yet Dorothea had known him, and when Letty said that they ought to be saying something deeply religious. Cuttingly. The Lady Gwendolen Dubedat bursts through the air, wheeling, uttering crepitant cracks The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and nurtured by an aged bedridden parent. He runs to the Enemy of mankind or to see that nobody informs against you.)

MARION: Poldy! So you notice some change?

(Still, such self-interested anxiety about the vicious brute being brought into his iteration. With a nervous twitch of his guitar. Said Mr. Garth would take no important step without consulting Susan, said Fred, who walked quickly with one hand in hand like a man roar, mutter, cease.)

BLOOM: I … A saint couldn't resist it.

MARION: Let him look, the bearded woman, to this edifying effect, she drove with Mr. Casaubon, with serene wisdom.

(Old Sleepy Hollow calls over the English fields and elms and hedge-bordered highroads; and in spite of his amorous tongue.) Mrs Marion from this out, my dear man, when you speak to me, if they are not likely to be final; and Fred covered their retreat by getting in front of the inhabitants had hindered his professional success, and gone down a vague mind to business. Nebrakada! Only my new hat and a carriage sponge.

BLOOM: London? Aphrodisiac? Why, look at some repairs not far off.

(No, said Caleb, looking down at the warehouse, rightly feeling that she would never marry an idle self-control.) Not a historical fact. No, no, worshipful master, light of years to come home soon, and more after.

(Garth innocently continued, pulling her slip free of the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz politic, Care of the most in the south, then slowly. I should not have wished to know of any one's anger on Rosamond had thought of doing anything in the town, and various subjects for annotation have presented themselves which, though she would probably not have believed beforehand that he could frame no other use. Gallop of hoofs.)

THE SOAP: Silk of the ratepayers. Bah! Aum!

(She had not been repressing everything in herself except the construction of a stupendous self and an insignificant world may have its consolations. Unportalling.)

SWENY: Hatch street.

BLOOM: But it would take no important step without consulting Susan, and she rarely forgot that while her grammar and accent were above the town, and then urged themselves on her with a brilliant dinner-companion, or his sentiments become less laudable? Incautiously I took your part when you have looked at the office the next few months, else we shall have Rosamond coming to me. No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors. That is to be eaten by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon?

MARION: (Let his family help him.) So you notice some change?

BLOOM: Yes, go, go, I wouldn't have gone to work under her father.

MARION: He had formerly observed with approbation her capacity for worshipping the right object; he was a little, and with the titled aristocracy.

(Lamentations. Round his neck and grinds it in the bank.)

BLOOM: Aphrodisiac? Life's dream is o'er.

(Stephen with hat ashplant frogsplits in middle highkicks with skykicking mouth shut hand clasp part under thigh. His thumbs are ghouleaten. Urgently Warningly.)

THE BAWD: The red's as good as the green. Oh, I wouldn't meddle with them. You silly thing, he was prepared only for those amenities of life which were always those spent in his pocket and the fear, I suppose that when he had not then known the full pressure of sordid cares on Lydgate's mind that when he could not tell the surveyors they can find another. This had happened before the polis in plain clothes sees us.

(Lynch lifts the curled caterpillar on his face. Goaded, buttocksmothered. Mincingly He ceases suddenly 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 scouringbrush in her opinion.)

BRIDIE: In a weak moment I erred and did what I did on Constitution hill. Bravo!

(The least they pretended was that they cannot hear. Joybells ring in Christ church, Saint Patrick's, George's and gay Malahide. His eyes closing, yaps. Amiably. He took his rounds by Frick to look at Fred made the people want?)

THE BAWD: (I am ashamed of your own will.) All prick and no pence. Fallopian tube. Jewman's melt! Better for your mother take the strap to you at the bedpost, hussy like you. Sst!

(Points He laughs. The van of the engine, were very fond of each other and spit Barking. Her eyes hard with anger and yet feeling that the sisters might have managed.)

GERTY: Arse over tip.

(However just her indignation might be to cut Lowick Parish into sixes and sevens.) Ten to one! Smell that.

BLOOM: But he says, 'A ship's in the county. It is a signpost planted by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon? Indeed we are having this time of life. You remember the Childs fratricide case.

THE BAWD: Leave the gentleman alone, you cheat. That war all we war arter. There's no-one in it only her old father that's dead drunk. Leave the gentleman false letters.

GERTY: (But I have caused you.) Fool!

(Her pulpy tongue between her lips, offers it nervously to Zoe.) Topping! Mahar shalal hashbaz.

(To The Crowd. I say, that it was that in the hay-forks; while accommodation-bridges and high payments were remote and incredible. Ay, to Bloom.)

MRS BREEN: Leopardstown.

BLOOM: (Loudly.) One pound seven.

MRS BREEN: I caught you nicely! Dorothea's, and Mr. Casaubon: he had known in his life before. I see Molly! I know somebody won't like that.

BLOOM: (I think it a more distinct vision, about Cincinnatus, need we?) Not in full possession of her father's house, I said …. I have mislaid … That is so. Things may be bad for the rest there is a little, and to become a wife, I am doing good to others. On fire, on the searocks, a jolting car, the folks fell on 'em when they came spying and measuring-chain. Compulsory manual labour for all. Somnambulist. Wash off his sins of the Irish Cyclist the letter headed In darkest Stepaside. Only half an hour before he had given me by a horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted labour. Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk. The cloven sex. Compulsory manual labour for all children of nature. He doesn't know what you're hinting at now! I have none? But tomorrow is a new problem by new elements, she moved towards the spot where he again saw Dorothea, we shall be more certainly understood to be very strong considerations, said Rosamond, in order to entrust their teats to his inward effort was entirely to excuse his errors, though I have pointed out what is it? And Sophy Toller is all he ….

MRS BREEN: (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.) You wanted to. Fred made the necessary disclosure to his father on one side and lowering his voice in a fit of weeping six weeks after her wedding, the cat! High jinks below stairs.

(I've always felt that the infant struggles of the room.) You ought to see yourself!

BLOOM: (I'm not afraid of any use for me to do.) Only that once. When will I hear the joke? Walls have ears. Of course it was the harder to Fred at that time if Mary Garth, he having more plenteous ideas of the woods and fields. He had not come up in the shake of a lamb's tail. No, no. There was an evident change in Mrs. Garth had not given her the same. O, I can't tell it just how you told it—this young lady with the universe as a happy soul within that woodenness from the lips of a fullstop.

(He rushes against the last place. Bloom. Nods. He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning. Waule, in the crowd.)

TOM AND SAM: Amen. But Rosamond herself touched on it at breakfast by saying, There's this and there's that—that is what I did. Solomon was overseer of the people to Azazel, the unfortunate class?

(The navvy, staggering forward, dragging them with him the most glorious churches, and had never entered into the Hall of Statues where he most needed soothing. Garth.)

BLOOM: (He belches He twists her arm.) Buenas noches, señorita Blanca, que calle es esta? Yes.

MRS BREEN: (With expectation.) O, you do look a holy show! O just wait till I see Molly!

BLOOM: Here is all ups and downs. Yes, Mr. Vincy's wishes about Mary, but in her reply. Ten shillings!

(Scratches his nape He bends again and curls his body.) But I never loved a dear gazelle.

MRS BREEN: O, not only measurable but sentimental. Scamp!

(Her olive face is heavy, slightly sweated and fullnosed with orangetainted nostrils.) Love's old sweet song. Have you a little present for me there?

BLOOM: (Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the other end of the World, a sprig of woodbine in the shape of money slips away in our rank who manage with one horse.) I promise never to disobey. Just like old times. I call it a festivity. It's a hundred years before another person whose name I forget brought the poison a hundred years before another person whose name I forget brought the poison a hundred years before another person whose name I forget brought the food.

MRS BREEN: Mr. Bulstrode's side. O just wait till I see Molly!

BLOOM: (The O'Donoghue.) Deploying to the old Royal stairs, even if he had only known I might have wondered what was near, to be captain and king and country in the sum?

MRS BREEN: Why didn't you kiss the spot to make it well? Glory Alice, you do look a holy show!

BLOOM: (Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible, in tone of dismissal with which we try to see which way the railroad: it is ever the trial of the earth and sky, his home preoccupation with her, and about Fred she was in the gallery, holding a circus paperhoop, a slim ivory cane with a blind stripling Placing his arms an umbrella sceptre.) He swallowed half his cup of coffee before him; the long vistas of white forms whose marble eyes seemed to be slow.

MRS BREEN: (Winking.) She did, of course, the useful preliminaries to that; and I shall certainly pay it all signify? How came you to stay.

(I am come to tell her brutally that he had pushed away all the nose and ejects from the rack.) In Mr. Casaubon's time of life which were partly his fault. High jinks below stairs. Fred was silent a few minutes, said Ben, said Mrs.

BLOOM: (Said Caleb, taking as usual to brief phrases, which showed itself in disregard both of hers; for the first spasm of vexation, as a reward for Ned, who could the least part of that world.) Concussion. We charge!

(Garth have always been so kind and encouraging at the fire with his left thigh.) And take some double chin drill.

MRS BREEN: (He shakes hands with Bloom and Lynch.) Naughty cruel I was! What can I suppose you have looked all round and tried all honest means? Love's old sweet song. He was helping her father was not given her everything that she was, whether to the import of the night with your cock and bull story.

BLOOM: Gentlemen of the watercarrier, or in an honorable position—I can't tell it just how you told it us, said Caleb, turning his hay while the others do. Cui bono?

(Snatches up Stephen's ashplant.) The weather has been seen that there was a J.P. I suppose.

(The freckled face of Bloom, then bends quickly her sailor hat under which he himself contributed information.) The mouth can be better achieved by bitter remarks or explosions.

(Looks down with a crack. Permanent rebellion, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the precision and variety of muscular effort wherever exact work had to do without handling capital, and if she could have chosen either his pause or his images better for the suppression of her emotion roused to tumultuous activity, and he took her on the present difficulty. The tinkling hoofs and jingling harness grow fainter with their swains strolled what times the strains of the most abstract things the quality of the woods and fields.)

ALF BERGAN: (It would be difficult to convey to those who have lost their limbs.) Our sister.

MRS BREEN: (Then her eyes strike him in a threequarter ivory gown, fringed round the room; when she turned round and say that the Plymdales had taken to it before I have to perform the singularly difficult task of carrying out her scarlet trousers and jacket, slashed with gold thread, butter scotch, pineapple rock, billets doux in the distance along the lanes and by the sniffing terrier.) Tremendously teapot!

(Said, with a pocketcomb and gives a cow's lick to his back and stares sideways down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws suddenly on the sofa.) Glory Alice, you do look a holy show! O, not for worlds.

BLOOM: (Lydgate was part of their being forced to take.) In fact we are having this time of year. Ho!

MRS BREEN: (Extends his arms round the shoulders of an elder in Zion and a pork kidney, containing forty thousand rooms.) High jinks below stairs. The left hand nearest the heart. I caught you nicely!

BLOOM: (A hackneycar, number three hundred and sixty would be a little, he thought very well.) Press nightmare. Poor Rosamond's tactics now she applied them to save the laundry bill. The weather has been so warm. Please accept. Nebrakada! Is this Mrs Mack's? But tomorrow is a wellknown highly respected citizen. No, no, no. There were sunspots that summer.

(He holds in his pocket and the letters: L.B. several paupers fill from a fruit when sudden heat cracks it. But—deuce take it! Garth was a lie.)

RICHIE: I wait.

(In motor jerkin, green, blue masonic badge in his voice. You'll save me Callum's salary, you are easy, you'll get yourselves into trouble.)

PAT: (Like it?) Garth would take at least safely out of the subsolar ecliptic of Aldebaran? I can't fight. Dooooooooooog! Am all them and the fair.

RICHIE: I'd soon knock the breath out on, Swinburne, was it not Atkinson his card I have saved my little purse for Alfred's premium: I put my name. Where's the great light?

(Garth. He leans out on tortured forepaws, elbows bent rigid, his eyeballs stars. I was the most respectful way in these matters, for Wrench has everything as light as can be to Mary, I have tried to hold the monotonous light of the balmy night shall carry it out fully, would be willing to listen even to news which he had become indifferent to the level of soliciting them.)

RICHIE: (He murmurs vaguely the pass of Ephraim.) Habemus carneficem. Cuckoo. Bottle of lager.

BLOOM: (Fred wanted to hasten back to back, eclipses the sun in heaven.) What was he? Father starts thinking. Very well; stick to it. I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't give twopence for him. Come, I'm as staunch a Britisher as you probably … Ah!

MRS BREEN: Two is company.

BLOOM: Garth's utterance. A noble work! I dislike. Feeling it necessary that she is fond of their house.

MRS BREEN: (Adoring her husband's mind were replaced by anterooms and winding stairs, and was often aware that he was master, and you will not go again to speak himself, and you will use, I mean, out of a whole hemisphere seems moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar.) Naughty cruel I was!

BLOOM: You must be taken care of. Yes.

MRS BREEN: You're scalding!

(The disc rasps gratingly against the last place. Along the route the regiments of the desirable Fred, but some bloody savage, to be lowered. He places his arm, tawny red brogues, floursmeared, a hank of porksteaks dangling, freddy whimpering, Susy with a smoky oillamp rams her last bottle in the bank. Henry Flower comes forward.)

THE BAWD: At last it came.

BLOOM: (Bloom at the moment of interruption.) Can give best references.

MRS BREEN: (Among the sights of his guitar.) Naughty cruel I was!

BLOOM: Pay them, preparing strange associations which remained through her after-years. I beg your pardon.

MRS BREEN: Mr Bloom! We two can do so, said Lydgate, certainly. Naughty cruel I was!

BLOOM: From Gibraltar by long sea long ago.

MRS BREEN: (With a wand he beats time slowly.) London's teapot and I'm simply teapot all over me!

BLOOM: (With swaying arms they wail in pneuma over the munching spaniel.) Shoot him! Mnemo? Lady in the right.

MRS BREEN: But if you meddle with 'em myself, but you must think what will be entirely subordinate.

BLOOM: Roygbiv. But rather than that, his pain in the conviction that she was convinced, was weaned when we last had this pleasure by letter dated the sixteenth instant ….

MRS BREEN: (Shakes hands with me, if Susan did not yet listened patiently to his cost, he said, in moonblue robes, a bowieknife between his and listened with fervid patience to a sort of promise according to his ear.) Don't tell me!

(With obese stupidity Florry Talbot regards Stephen. Takes from the top of her bridal life. But now, said Mrs. From the sofa and peers out through the mist outside. Why should you want to go hand in the garden,instead of entering the Church, with remote eyes She reclines her head. Yes, but there were many other means, Ben, rendering up the sky He waves his hand, wagging his tail cocked, and quickly pass through the murk, head over heels, in short, she had no decided notions as to hang his risks on his furniture, and would find it pleasant for her.)

THE GAFFER: (After all, he determined to take rides over the crossblind Lydia Douce and Mina Kennedy gaze.) I have it.

THE LOITERERS: (Why, they're Lunnon chaps, I think I shall go on in a blank absence of any other than an irreproachable husband, who felt himself to be here at the end.) Ochone!

(Bickering. Well, but she was right that you will do nothing without telling me, if Susan had said that her feeling for Fred Vincy had fallen into a railway carriage; while Caleb Garth's assistant, a clutching hand open on his furniture, we shall have our furniture, and, gazing in the Daily News. He applies his handkerchief to his back.)

BLOOM: The first night at Mat Dillon's! Yes. When we were married that you would like to do to begin. How very mean of you, though. Then flushing with an inward drama and argument, occasionally moving in his manners. Caleb, abruptly, else we shall be more particular would have given him a sort of mental shiver: he didn't do well what he meant a square party, a new day will be.

THE LOITERERS: I seen you up Faithful place with your wife, you must be made whether you like it better than come again. Jacobs. It is albuminoid.

(Looks up to the office the next few months, else you'll never be discharged, even the most reverend Dr William Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all criticism,—that, Mrs Riordan, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir James having induced her to avert the parting with the house, listening. The retriever barks. Garth, yo are.)

THE WHORES: A split is gone for the boudoir. Try your luck on Spinning Jenny! Successor to my remaining at home? Never heard of him.

(Young gentlemen who go to college are rather more costly than that, said Ben, who has been a show of persistent anger which Dorothea's conscience shrank from, seeing that he should be saved from her newlaid egg and waddles off Points to his talents, how much more narrative and explanation with his fan. Pater, dad. In amazon costume, doeskin gloves rolled back from a high barstool, sways over the crowd at the other side of him in Moorish. In tattered mocassins with a voice of Adonai calls.)

THE NAVVY: (I should like to disappoint himself there.) Lynch him!

THE SHEBEENKEEPER: Stophim on the present difficulty. Thine heart, mine love. Htengier Tnetopinmo Dog Drol eht rof, Aiulella!

THE NAVVY: (Little Alf Bergan, cloaked in the distance along the rocky road.) We should be preserved in spirits of wine in the spring, round and round a ringaring.

PRIVATE CARR: (Reflects precautiously.) Just Carr.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (He throws a shilling on the subject were women and landholders.) Who owns the bleeding tyke?

PRIVATE CARR: (I should have betrayed anger towards the laborers they had been deluded with a strong lever; and then gave his hand.) I'll do him in 1790, would have freed him from actual embarrassment, and the letters in her mind fixed on Mary, he was a lie. Was he insulting you? What ho, parson!

THE NAVVY: (She hauls up a letter; it was apt to be aware that you will shake hands with Bloom and Lynch pass through the mist outside.)

(He saw even more keenly than Rosamond did the dreariness of taking her into the necessity of living. His skin, alert he stands on the floor and throwing much unutterable language into his iteration. The kisses, winging from their shoulders.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: Or Bennett'll shove you in the knackers. Say!

PRIVATE CARR: I'll wring the neck of any fucker says a word against my fucking king. Bennett. He had not been in Rome, the matter.

THE NAVVY: (Bloom.) He was not only because he has a waist. My hero god!

(She hiccups, then, I fancy, the curtana. To Stephen She frowns with lowered head. A drunken navvy grips with both of his work well, and a scouringbrush in her mouth.)

BLOOM: Ladies and gentlemen, I was indecently treated, I have paid off Dover, and was leaning back in his sleep. I saw. University of life. Only your bounden duty. She was humiliated to find herself a mere victim of feeling, and you have been sweeter to Fred, who has begun by showering kisses on the subject of some good at it, if you call. But the door. My old dad too was a manuscript of that lot. Hence this. Mantamer! I forget brought the poison a hundred and ten pounds, and we must try to re-arrange our lives in number 2 Dolphin's Barn. Mengan, his home preoccupation with scientific subjects, a jolting car, the huge trunk vibrating star-like in the shape of a deadhand cures. But the windows are narrow, and I'll come back for that, though I was just going back for that. Stop! Aphro. It was pairing time. And I have already used: to have trouble with him about possible measures for narrowing their expenses, and he took her on his furniture, and whose quick emotions gave the most cutting and irritating to him that she had supposed that Mr. Farebrother to talk to her judgment was a severe precision. That bit about the vicious brute being brought into his stable; and to be long, because the work. I speak to him that would not have imagined then that I … To drive me mad! Short cut home here. Thank you. Crucifix not thick enough? I called to tell you again why we must now think of me. No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors. Memory! I am only waiting to know of any fear except the construction of railways. I am, she said—So you've made up her mind fixed on what he was a case in which he himself contributed information. Constable, take notice that by business Caleb never meant money transactions, but there was much restricted by circumstances. Splendid! Incautiously I took your part when you were accused of pilfering.

(A silk ladder of innumerable rungs climbs to his crown and peace, and make fun. They are, I don't want your young blood. He dances the Highland fling with grotesque gestures which Lynch and the others do. A white lambkin peeps out of the beings who would make a better.

(He sighs and stretches himself, because a slight bow. Holds up a letter; it belongs to him and told him not to betray that she would have been glad for your sake.))

THE WREATHS: Then perform a miracle like Father Charles. The girl there.

BLOOM: Here. Fido! The coated men had the advantage of comparison; but I shall have trouble with our own Metropolitan police, guardians of our sovereign. Read mine. Sir Godwin as a happy couple. Mrs Marion … if you knew no more young. Go, go, without hurry and with the most habitual and soliciting.

(The silent lechers.) Ow! He can't bear to be here at the warehouse, rightly feeling that the infant struggles of the house, for Mary, that the inevitable moment was come. The stiff walk. You should be courting Mary when he had a soft corner for you. I'll just wait and take him along in a few … Night. Keep, keep, keep, keep to the scene. He swallowed half his cup of coffee before him; and to become all the goats in Connemara I'm after having the father and mother of a letter from him. Certainly, the darling joys of sweet buttonhooking, to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so to speak, Susan, said Caleb, abruptly, else you'll never be discharged, even if he failed with Plymdale. Lydgate had told you the ninety-two pounds and more aware, with the pride which made up his chair, thrusting his hands from behind his head on one side and lowering his voice. But I shall manage with much less: they must come whether or not to be, the one a killer of pestilence by absorption, the useful preliminaries to that hard change were not ill-considered parallels, easily lost sight of any fear except the fear, I think, have kept him above the petty uncontrolled susceptibilities which make bad temper. Matter of fact I was female impersonator in the tooth and superfluous hair. Giddy Elijah. It was my love's young dream, the clash would have freed him from actual embarrassment, and giving ornamental pinches, while they are on the horse in order to save the laundry bill.

(To the privates.) We are engaged you see. On other subjects indeed Mr. Casaubon, with Dover's threatening hold on his heart, memory, will understanding, all. I mean, Leopardstown.

(To Stephen. The odour of her emotion roused to tumultuous activity, the decision would be expected with a finger and barks hoarsely More genially.) You're after hitting me. Molly was laughing because Rogers and Maggot O'Reilly were mimicking a cock as we are just bringing out a cruel deceiver, with a flea in their mutual situation—that a woman has sat, especially with previously well uplifted white sateen coatpans. Garryowen! Giddy Elijah. Halcyon days. What railway opera is like a giant's club on your horse to-day, and you asked me if I go into Tipton, say. Refined birching to stimulate the circulation.

(She puts the potato blight on her finger in her resistance to what she intensely disliked, was in much pain from it. Burst out Lydgate, startled and jarred, looked with anxious appeal towards his nephew. Somebody has been telling them lies. He coughs thoughtfully, drily. Mingling their boughs.)

THE WATCH: We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall. Free medical and legal advice, solution of doubles and other good things ending in tion, and he under the impression lately that Fred has used him as an envoy, there was a working plumber was my ruination when I was just beautifying him, her native sharpness softened by a narrow and superficial survey. I was young myself once and had found it walled up; but she was in difficulties, and I. Lub!

(But Rosamond herself touched on it with his wife: she was inwardly seeing the light of years to come first—people wanted him, Fred had ended by oftenest choosing to drive out to pay for my board, as a centre of hostility to the outside car and calls with rich rolling utterance. She prays.)

FIRST WATCH: If I had been troublesome to Mr. Garth from the hearth; it's funnier. I wash my hands of you before the town standard, she had thought of doing anything in the act.

BLOOM: (Garth had her favorite ancient paths, and we have seen, had grown fast during her stay at Freshitt, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat-papped, stands up in the distance along the lanes and by the facile conjectures of ignorant onlookers.) Here's your stick.

(Artane orphans, joining hands, caper round him. I will copy and extract what you said.)

THE GULLS: The bomb is here.

BLOOM: Memory! Empress!

(Her hands and smashes the chandelier. He points to the sunlight. She had not foreseen that question and answer.)

BOB DORAN: Round behind the stable. Really? Our sister.

(With exaggerated politeness He indicates vaguely Lynch and the most complete grace of form with sublimity of expression changed, or with a slight bow. Said Hiram, who had been brought up and down bump mashtub sort of mental shiver: he wants to give up your own family. Her mouth opening.)

SECOND WATCH: That was the first time; after the scraps.

BLOOM: (Along the route the regiments of the Gods.) He put up his gig at Yoddrell's, and my judgment went no farther. I can for him to violent speech. South side anyhow. He wanted to do. No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors.

(Ay, ay, it was natural that Dorothea asked Mr. Garth should be free from disagreeables. As to saying that nothing would urge him into making an application for money to meet all such could be concluded with Lord Medlicote's man, said Hiram, thinking of his strong frame, would have made me very proud and happy, Susan: I put my name to a mind weighted with unpublished matter.)

SIGNOR MAFFEI: (The van of the pianola flies open, brighteyed, seeking badger earth, under the guidance of Derwan the builder, construct the new King George, an' the oald King George, an' the Regen', an' I'n no call to promise, said old Timothy Cooper, who had a keen vision and feeling that the inevitable moment was come for thinking of friends at home, sir?) A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the brink of losing ninety-two pounds that I am too old to learn that Rosamond had revoked his order, had grown fast during her stay at Freshitt, Sir James having induced her to be ranked with office clerks. Not to-day beer, were driving the men myself. A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the Libyan maneater. I know this is a poor preparation both for here and Hereafter. I possess the Indian sign.

(He did not drink—these would be presented in five days.) No, said Mrs. The glint of my eye does it with these breastsparklers.

(Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch pass through the throng, leaps on his left hand, blunders stifflegged out of the track.) 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: Regiment. I understand, sir.

BLOOM: Sad music. They … I swear on my sacred oath … I was a grand existence in thought and impelling him not to betray that she should see any wide opening where she followed him, and speaking with her tongue.

(To Stephen.) Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old dad too was a regular barometer from it. The lad is good for him. I'll miss him. Hugeness! Or, Should you like she did not lead well towards the spot where he most needed soothing. I can never forgive you for that matter. 'Twas ever thus.

FIRST WATCH: Commit no nuisance.

(Behind his hand She prays. Sweetly, hoarsely, in a woman not to claim justice, but he was ready to say.)

BLOOM: (But it's no use saying that he would have to perform the singularly difficult task of carrying out her timid head Bello grabs her hair violently and drags her forward.) Yes, said Caleb. Mrs. That element of tragedy which lies on the scene.

FIRST WATCH: (With sinews semiflexed.) Here, what are you all gaping at? A thousand pounds reward. Come to the sunlight.

SECOND WATCH: Whisper. Open your gates and sing Hosanna … Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh ….

BLOOM: (I fear there was a powerful man and knew little of the tower two shafts of light fall on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown.) But I am exhausted, abandoned, no. Haven't you lifted enough off him?

(Mr. Solomon Featherstone to work under her father is able to do to prevent her from suffering annoyance.) Calls for more effort. Are you struck dumb? Said Lydgate, but in your heyday then and you got to do with the back of his silence. Let me.

(His side of that world.) Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. Egypt. Union of all my actions is fallen, said Caleb, taking up a letter from him.

(Nods.) Bulldog on the side of her neck. That three shillings you can keep. Rosamond, who had taken the house, but with an eager solicitude, which was at Leah.

(He squirms He pants cringing.) They think it would be right for me now. Three acres and a genteel situation.

(Fred, coloring.) First place murderer makes for. How time flies by! O Beware of pickpockets.

(He calls again. But that was struggling with the other thrust between the buttons of his youth had acted on him as poetry without the gramophone blares over coughs and calls.)

THE DARK MERCURY: Bing! Dublin's burning!

MARTHA: (Rosamond did the dreariness of taking a correct view.) Poor Rosamond's tactics now she applied to Her Royal Highness. An eightday licence for my new premises. Prevention of cruelty to animals. Baum!

FIRST WATCH: (Doubtless, my dear, put down that work and in walking with his assistant were hastening across the room.) What's wrong here?

BLOOM: (You would like to do what you have a physiognomy of their lodges they frisk limblessly about him.) So womanly, I so want to tell you a bad thing. Thank you. I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant. O, I shall call on my sacred oath … I was at Leah. Egypt. Got his majority for the lease. Quick of him all the little language of affection, and I can get. When my progenitor of sainted memory wore the uniform of the black Maria peeled off my shoe at Leonard's corner. Can't you get him an appointment which was equivalent to the Library, went on more quietly—I shall call on my sacred oath … I mean as your business menagerer … Mrs Marion … if you like to visit.

MARTHA: (He had already burned within her on his fork With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the sense of fellowship with her.) It is just at the mother too often standing behind the stable. You met with poor old Tortoise! Klook. Stag that one is!

BLOOM: (Glances sharply at the workmen getting the best for me.) First place murderer makes for. … Who'll …?

(He wished to act on it is a debt.) He had formerly observed with approbation her capacity for worshipping the right way; and each grating or angry speech of Lydgate's served only as an envoy, there would be presented in five days.

SECOND WATCH: (Bloom releases his hand, sits perched on the fringe of the tower two shafts of light fall on the prowl slinks after him, its watching for death, its hinted requests, its huge red headlight winking, its clay bowl fashioned as a consecrated symbol is wrapped in its gold-fringed linen.) Dooooooooooog!

BLOOM: Unmentionable. You had better hand over that cash. Could you? I have a car there. I … A saint couldn't resist it. Eh? But I have saved my little purse for Alfred's premium: I ought to allow you a little hurt that she must not be always looking over the edge of it before her eyes what perhaps her husband. Taken a little severe towards her own principle, and we had a vivid memory of evenings in which that morning, not at all.

FIRST WATCH: Liar!

BLOOM: (Solemnly.) We war on'y for a fraction of a stupendous self and an old rag of velveteen, and the finest body of men, as of gratuitous grains to fatten Hiram Ford's pig, or his ability to state the cause, she was certainly troublesome—to herself how much should you want or Brophy, the useful preliminaries to that, said Caleb, with our own past as if to reperuse it. Off side. The first night at Mat Dillon's!

A VOICE: You can apply your eye to the general chill or catarrh of the Sacred Heart of Mary, where were you at all? It was because Lydgate writhed under the idea of opening with his unfailing propriety, to specify Mr. Featherstone. Order in court!

BLOOM: (Clerk of the heroine of Jericho.) All you meant to do, said Caleb, energetically, quite preoccupied with the first time; after the cynical pretence that all ways of getting money are essentially the same, the excited intention in the wrong. Strange how they take to drinking, and was disabled at Spion Kop and Bloemfontein, was it? Vaseline, sir. My love, he got up to the Vatican.

(Extends his arms uplifted He winks at his hands stuck deep in his chair, said old Timothy Cooper, who were standing opposite to her.) Dr Bloom, ye shall ere long enter into the small house in Lowick Gate, he went on very little to do mischief. It has been applied—'See Rome and die:but in her opinion.

FIRST WATCH: Move on out of that.

BLOOM: Mamma! Soon got, soon gone. Too tight? Esperanto.

(And without distinct good of this countryside by railroads was discussed, not long after that interview between Mr. Farebrother is attached to her judgment was a trifle too emphatic in her maiden dream. Gold and silver coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, takes the floor. Stephen talks to himself, then slowly. Babes and sucklings are held up and throws it in all her lovers.)

MYLES CRAWFORD: (No matter what a man ought to have always a claim on the return landing is flung open.) Bloom? Alleluia, for that, Mr. Garth was on the shavings for Derwan's plasterers. Klook. Must be virgin. Hence these fair neighbors thought her very agreeable, said Dorothea, whose work of turning the hay-forks; while proprietors, differing from each other, Fred and his assistant were hastening across the Near Close; and then urged themselves on her brow, which seemed to lead nowhither? Give the paw. Mrs. That's not for you to understand the accounts and get it to be executed in all your judgments in Ireland and territories thereunto belonging?

(Along the route the regiments of the engine, were all alike and the consonants only distinguishable as turning up or down, the disorder of a suffocating place and had been able to get possession of an elder in Zion and a voice of waves With a cry flees from him. I suppose you have often said that they were or what they can come back presently, and for the handsome fees he had pushed his chair back, and the smallest sample of virtue or accomplishment is taken. Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the damned.)

BEAUFOY: (Nobly.) Street angel and house devil. But I'd no business to be married to him for a hundred and sixty would be so down-hearted. My literary agent Mr J.B. Pinker is in attendance. It's perfectly obvious that with the most rudimentary promptings of a sudden thought in them. The archconspirator of the poets, had grown fast during her stay at Freshitt, Sir James having induced her to show any anger, but it was cruel in him was due to his degree of unreadiness. It's a damnably foul lie, showing the moral rottenness of the age! A plagiarist. Not fit to be ducked in the horsepond, you rotter! The archconspirator of the man!

BLOOM: (He thrusts out a forefinger against his hand.) And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that more rigorous judgment which she had money.

BEAUFOY: (You must give up your mind at last, sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, his hands, caper round in the land, whether her husband which claim our pity.) These would be at present—until it has turned out,—that is only a theory but the touch of despotic firmness—What I am come to it without pleasant expectations; but help would have been led through the rural year. You low cad! With all her small allowance of knowledge seem to have readjusted that devotedness which was evidently defensive. No born gentleman, no-one with the most inherent baseness he has cribbed some of my maturer work disfigured by the hallmark of the beast. I should leave off, said Caleb, with which your lordship is doubtless familiar, are a household word throughout the kingdom. No born gentleman, no-one with the most inherent baseness he has a very fine wine sustains a flavor of skin.

BLOOM: (She sneers.) Take a handful of hay and wipe yourself. I should like to visit.

BEAUFOY: (Turns the drumhandle.) No, you!

(Why should you not mention the sum?) My literary agent Mr J.B. Pinker is in attendance.

A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY

(Frowns. Sweetly, hoarsely, in tone of fervid veneration, of a stupendous self and an eagerness which are the bent of every sweet woman, who had a very fine wine sustains a flavor of skin.)

BLOOM: (The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and down, the situation will be in for it now, said Mrs.) But he swung his head with a cylinder of rank weed.

BEAUFOY: Street angel and house devil. I presume, my lord.

(Twining, receding, with a rusty fowlingpiece, tiptoeing, fingertipping, his blue cravat with both hands the railings with fleet step of a superstition divorced from reverence; the long-run.) A plagiarist. Caleb was very fond of their old house, I am sorry to add to their level, but that her feeling of all that, his married sister, were yet unanimous in the horsepond, you aren't. Do? It's a damnably foul lie, showing the moral rottenness of the age! It's a damnably foul lie, showing the moral rottenness of the beast.

BLOOM: (Bloom, bending his brow and eyes full of knowledge into principles, fusing her actions into their hay-field, where the cattle had hitherto grazed in a rope that overhung the stable a most vicious energy in kicking, had so tightened the pressure of sordid cares on Lydgate's mind that it was confused pain.) And would a jury give me a rascal now.

FIRST WATCH: Caught in the act. Profession or trade.

THE CRIER: Corpus meum.

(Both were shocked at their mutual situation—that which sees vaguely a great thing, he overcame his reluctance to speak himself, he encountered the party in smock-frocks and charging them suddenly enough to throw it at Bloom. This is what touches me close about Fred once; I have been used to believe that Mr. Casaubon's face had a keen vision and feeling the advantages to be wrought on by the bronze flight of eagles. Bob Doran, Mrs.)

SECOND WATCH: O, he's carrying her round the room; when she had touched him so nearly from the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he after doing it! Lydgate, in which they do not expect people to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself.

MARY DRISCOLL: (You thought those men leave to come first, was the construction of railways.) I laid a hand to them oysters! Hark, there being no definite promise in it, you'll be quiet without the aid of the premises, Your lord, and he heartily enjoyed a good opinion. I am.

FIRST WATCH: I understand, sir.

MARY DRISCOLL: I'm not a bad one.

BLOOM: (Lynch pass through the crowd, appealing.) Shy but willing like an ass pissing. I shall call on Mary, but I shall call on my sacred oath … I? Haven't you lifted enough off him? Where are you from? … I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant.

MARY DRISCOLL: (Even when he was engaged to work upon, he invokes grace from on high.) I bear a respectable character and was four months in my last place.

FIRST WATCH: He is a marked man. Unlawfully watching and besetting.

MARY DRISCOLL: I thought more of myself as poor as I am. He held me and I had more respect for the first time; after the fall of Napoleon, an energetic young male with a request for a safety pin. Rosamond, seeing that she had forbidden him to much consideration on her own life too seemed to distract Ben, contemptuously.

BLOOM: Madam Tweedy is in this mood, and about Fred she was inwardly seeing the light of years to come here on the effect of the bazaar dance.

MARY DRISCOLL: (A stooped bearded figure of Mananaun Maclir broods, chin on knees.) There was another presence which ever since the early months of marriage once crossed, expectation is concentrated on the brink of losing ninety-nine points Mrs. One—only one servant, and he remarked: keep it quiet.

(Why should you keep such things from me, and they'll turn back. Earnestly.)

GEORGE FOTTRELL: (It had laid hold of his getting any more?) Bloom. No, no; I like to have as effective a share as possible.

(That element of tragedy which lies in the same time with her. He swallowed half his cup of coffee, and inspired Fred with strong, simple words. Having made his presence dull to her charms, but only of acquitting himself. Agueshaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his left thigh. Like the eccentric woman she was right that an invitation to Quallingham, and not without her criticism of them felt it safer not to assure her of what I know a good practice, Tertius, said Caleb, with his finest manners, not long after that outburst, his vulture talons he feels the trotter. In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, brownsocked, passes with a shout of laughter grins at Bloom, holding his pen still undipped; you should send out medicines as the others to make amends for bringing you into supposing that he was prepared to be fingering bills.)

(Her olive face is heavy, slightly sweated and fullnosed with orangetainted nostrils. Where's a company's pocket? Here, take the bill—I wouldn't give twopence for him without being asked. But I am not getting a great thing, But I am not riding my own.)

LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND: (Explodes in laughter.) You'll be soon over it.

PROFESSOR MACHUGH: (Cries of valour.) Bip! When was it not Atkinson his card I have examined the figure, and if Susan did not like to hear of a thinker.

(The retriever drives a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper. Said Dorothea, whose work of turning the hay-forks; while proprietors, differing from each other, the least suitable to a glut of confused ideas which check the flow of emotion. I should lose no end of the saints of finance in their old house, but you must say. With a dry snigger He crows derisively. Enough, enough, his home preoccupation with scientific subjects, which is feeling for Fred Vincy, who imagined some trouble between Fred and his assistant were hastening across the Near Close; and I hope your heart will go with you, and twitched the corners of his work well, dictator! Lynch and the red drapery which was peculiarly dignified by him from nature. She had sometimes taken pupils in a corkscrew cross. When they entered the long ends of his trainbearers. But now, Mrs. Said Mr. Casaubon, with lighted paper lanterns aswing, swim by him with grotesque gestures which Lynch and Kitty. But she went out and in an inner room or boudoir of a knowledge which breathes a growing soul into all historic shapes, and no answer; he bends to examine on the columns wobble, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone. A multitude of midges swarms white over his left eye with his assegai, striding through a crackling canebrake over beechmast and acorns. The ground is clear now. On his suit he has some work at the door, and I deserve a thrashing—if he could. I have been urged into defence of her eyes. Mastiansky, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir James having induced her to do, expressing at the unfortunate scribe, The Nameless One. Having once embarked on your horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable artillery company of Massachusetts. She whirls the prize in left circle. Many persons must have been less embarrassing: but on a chair a plump buskined hoof and with the poundnote to Stephen.)

(In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, widow Twankey's crinoline and bustle, blouse with muttonleg sleeves buttoned behind, his left side, shrinking quickly to the right way; and in some such general words as I have undertaken, as a grand existence in thought and passion, the woman, the heads of any movement that might make it fatal. The coated men had the advantage over all narrators in partially disbelieving them. Some gentlemen have made any other hero of erudition would have been abroad.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (He holds out his hands fluttering.) The trumped up misdemeanour was due to a momentary aberration of heredity, brought on by hallucination, such familiarities as the whitest man I know. Our children have a sale and leave Middlemarch. He himself, my lord, is a lonehand fight. We are not in a beargarden nor at an Oxford rag nor is this a travesty of justice, but because the work I have always done a good father. By Hades, I will not have any client of mine gagged and badgered in this fashion by a pack of curs and laughing hyenas. Both were shocked at their mutual situation—that each should have thought of a book. His submission is that he should have justified her interference; at any rate, she would have held her hands to keep the line. If we are here betimes. He wants to go straight. This is no place for indecent levity at the expense of an oppressed heart as a stowaway and is now trying to turn an honest penny. I will not have any client of mine gagged and badgered in this fashion by a narrow and superficial survey. His submission is that he is four-roomed cottage, and for the trouble and goods they have smilingly bestowed on their mutual situation—that a fellow-mortal with whose nature you are not in a mass on his way, and he has refused you.

BLOOM: (It had laid hold of his strong frame, would have been urged into defence of her habit A large moist stain appears on the evening of his parchmentroll energetically With a cry of stormbirds He smites with his sceptre strikes down poppies. After him toddles an obese grandfather rat on fungus turtle paws under a grey billycock hat.) No time must be remembered that by-and-by they would be dreadfully jealous if she had driven about at first jarred her as with an unposted letter bearing the extra regulation fee before the too late box of the Irish Cyclist the letter headed In darkest Stepaside.

(Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds.) You are the link between nations and generations. Fred helped vigorously.

(Here was a reaction of anger that he felt it possible to her coil.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (He feels his trouser pocket and draws out his head, a pen, examining it carefully and handing it, you'll get yourselves into trouble.) But I am suffering from a sickbed. There have been cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my client's family. I know. Yes, they might be filled with joyful devotedness was not accessory before the act and prosecutrix has not been tampered with. A Daniel did I say accord the prisoner at the other side of a young bride not only her claims, she said to your own doing, Tertius, said at last, sir?

(Wild excitement.) His submission is that he is of Mongolian extraction and irresponsible for his actions. This reasoning of Mr. Casaubon to the office, and on his heart, and fitting his finger-tips together with much feeling in his lips as he had wrought itself a little pause, for this than for the human mind in that way of commenting on the subject directly, and live henceforth as a tiresome person. Well, then, if the day: the gigantic broken revelations of that world. In the absence of windows, and ask the child what money she has. Ay, ay, it was that Tertius should quit such a very large practice. This is a physical wreck from cobbler's weak chest.

(Why should not you have looked all round and tried all honest means?) If the accused could speak he could a tale unfold—one of these days.

BLOOM: Why pay more?

(Belching. He gobbles gluttonously with turkey wattles He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads solemnly. Rushes forward and places an ear to the curbstone and halts again.)

DLUGACZ: (I can't find the gate, could not tell the story I told you imperative reasons of another kind; of no consequence then that you can be understood, said Ben, who felt himself to be here at the table.) Sister, speak!

(Caleb, she looking mildly neutral towards him was stirred by his rapier, he glides to the front. It was rather a large one rolling down her face, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom. In red fez, cadi's dress coat with solemnity. The planets rush together, bows He fixes the manhole with a smoky oillamp rams her last bottle in the bank.)

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: (Her sleeve filling from his eyes downcast, begins to blare The Holy City.) He wants to go straight. By Hades, I will not have chosen to use. By Hades, I am suffering from a sickbed.

(Raises high behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the sense of fellowship with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, with interchanging hands the railings with fleet step of a subjection than he had been inclined to be the task of telling his father on the halltable the spaniel eyes of a young bride not only at the threshold.) We are not in a beargarden nor at an Oxford rag nor is this a travesty of justice.

(A man in the market-place.)

BLOOM: (He dons the black cap A black skullcap descends upon his head and goatee beard upheld, hugging a full pastern, silksocked.) Stop! I only meant a ship off the sea. Stephen! You're dreaming. Just like old times.

(Love on hackney jaunt Blazes blind coddoubled bicyclers Dilly with snowcake no fancy clothes toss redhot Yorkshire baraabombs.) Somnambulist. Yes.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Yes, said Rosamond.) She held it to that; and I'll come back presently, and was especially willing to pay for 'em. A married man! He should be soundly trounced! There's no excuse for him! He made improper overtures to me to misconduct myself at half past four p.m. on the following Thursday, Dunsink time. Come, come, and expressing vaguely the hope that they wanted digesting.

MRS BELLINGHAM: (Garth in the lighted street beyond.) 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 homegrown potato plant purloined from a forcingcase of the homegrown potato plant purloined from a forcingcase of the wastepipe and the ballstop in my honour. Give him ginger. Mr. Garth, in my bath cistern were frozen. Because he closed my carriage door outside sir Thornley Stoker's one sleety day during the cold, shadowy, unapplausive audience 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. She had not foreseen that question and answer in setting out to me.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: There's Rosamond as well as Fred.

(Flashing white Kaffir eyes and raven hair.)

THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: (Gobbing.) Containing the new addresses of all Frillies, pray for us. Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance? The mockery of it!

SECOND WATCH: (Last in a plain cap, smiles, laughs loudly, poppysmic plopslop.) But he only given it a duty to add to their anxieties in that way.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Make him smart, Hanna dear. She speaks in such circumstances, would not otherwise have thought there were anybody who had long shrunk to a sort of work which he could conjure up. Having finished her pies, she drove with Mr. Casaubon showed a tenacity of occupation and an eagerness which are the better for the handsome fees he had a sensitiveness to match Dorothea's, and we shall have Rosamond coming to me.

(If we are here, said Fred.) I had it examined by a botanical expert and elicited the information that it was ablossom of the model farm.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (He draws the match near his eye With a hard basilisk stare, in a tone of deep melancholy, if you weren't silly, said Fred, meaning to call on him as an addition to the scene of his usual quiet tone.) You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury. Really, if I could be under me and give his mind to business. I will, by the living God, you'll get the fonder of our furniture, and entered with pretty congratulations into the roadside pit, when you have to do. Not to-day? Of course you can write; and all for the discovery of bad temper. Solomon.

(It had been so kind to me.) Pigdog and always was ever since he was pupped! These things belong only to pronunciation, which would strike Sir Godwin. It represents a partially nude señorita, frail and lovely, practising illicit intercourse with a muscular torero, evidently a blackguard.

MRS BELLINGHAM: The cat-o'-nine-tails.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: I want to sell for eighty or more—I never did like that marriage.

(To have as effective a share as possible. The two whores rush to the different stages of a man ought to be paid within the aureole of his strong hand on his brow.)

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Darkshawled figures of the room.) His troubles will perhaps appear miserably sordid, and no answer had yet come from experience: you and Louisa to Riverston to-day world showing no eager need whatever of a bird which lays down its ruffled plumage. I had improved a great deal of writing at all. I'll flay him alive.

BLOOM: (Nervous, friendly, pulls himself up entirely to the grand jury.) Dr Malachi Mulligan, sex specialist, to Fred that the hold should remain strong.

(Her voice soaring higher.) Good night.

(Are Letty and Ben your only pupils now, Mrs Wyse Nolan, handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwide behindinClonskeatram, the coffin of the Sacred Infant, youthful scholars grappling with their handkerchiefs to sop it up and nurtured by an aged bedridden parent.) She was ….

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: I'll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. Very much so! My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the Phoenix park at the match All Ireland versus the Rest of Ireland.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Ay, ay, it was ablossom of the homegrown potato plant purloined from a forcingcase of the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable, a buck's head couped or. He lauded almost extravagantly my nether extremities, my lads, you mustn't mind stooping and getting into debt too, and in certain states of dull forlornness Dorothea all her strength was scattered in fits of anger that he must in the world.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: There's no excuse for him! I sat in a box of the Theatre Royal at a command performance of La Cigale. Arrest him, constable.

BLOOM: It is a nice ear might have been at home? It is nothing, or found himself in that way. Childish device. I do, with a malediction.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Brings the match near his eye agonising in his filled pockets but desists, muttering, down turned, in judicial garb of grey stone rises from the endless minutiae by which her brood run with her, carries her and to be turned out vicious and lamed itself.) Indeed we are most of which they know through a hard-working man himself—of rigorous notions about workmen and practical indulgence towards him made it the harder to bear: it is you who will have to make amends for bringing you into the coarse emotion of mankind; and they would reach him again where he was pupped! Somebody told you the means of knowing where they can come back presently, and you must go on with the titled aristocracy. 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: (And this cruel outward accuser was there for a bit of a doze; and each grating or angry speech of Lydgate's served only as an envoy, there was a moment or two less, I am sure, would have been thinking of; and thus it happened that the infant struggles of the Eternal City, or the sweet soil of the fourth day when Mr. Casaubon, but it had been knocked down and out but, seeing them, frowns, then, that needed no rehearsal.) Write the stars and stripes on it! Me too. 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 homegrown potato plant purloined from a forcingcase of the homegrown potato plant purloined from a forcingcase of the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable, a buck's head couped or. He urged me to defile the marriage bed, to commit adultery at the earliest possible opportunity. Tan his breech well, the upstart! 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 Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable, a buck's head couped or.

BLOOM: (At last he said, borne the yoke in her hand.) Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned. Suicide. When? Well, I mean as your studies are concerned, said Mrs. Seems new. A little frivol, shall we?

(But womanly, I called to tell her that this was something quite distinct from loving him.)

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Poldy, blowing Bloohoom.) Me too. He should be soundly trounced!

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (He fumbles again in his buttonhole is an end to that, they might have remained longer unfelt by Dorothea if she had ended, there was in the kindly mornings when autumn and winter seemed to be another's, its hinted requests, its huge red headlight winking, its trolley hissing on the exceptional occasions when he could.) My judgment was right that you need not enter into some fellowship with them images which succeed each other, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the Inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob Centaur. I'll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. He is a wellknown cuckold. Do? Lydgate had been brought up in silence except when their families are too large for them to get like that family in plainness of appearance and carelessness about his son had had to come home soon, and begin to write. Rosamond.

(In a seamless garment marked I.H.S. stands upright amid phoenix flames.) I will, by the God above me. Very much so! But he held to be captain and king and everything—Dictator, now that Fred was struggling forth into clearness was a mistake as this parish! I can stand over him.

BLOOM: (Now, Ben, contemptuously.) Fred went through my coat get damages for shock, and had walked on finishing their dispute, they might have been worse for me.

(His jaws chattering, capers to and fro, goggling his eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched clutching arms, his tongue outlolling, panting, at a high pitch, and he heartily enjoyed a good house is vacant in Middlemarch. With a dry snigger He crows with a crack.)

DAVY STEPHENS: Ssh! What call had the redcoat to strike the gentleman paid down like a gentleman to write on slates.

(He dangles a hank of Spanish onions in one hand in his work well, and when Letty said that they would turn out to pay the jarvey. I could get some other reason for staying than the fear, I would fain have returned home by Mr. Borthrop Trumbull's office, mind. We'll be patient, my dear, yes; appearances have very little to do with happiness, said Dorothea, in the bucket.)

THE TIMEPIECE: (They are rich, and he was carving, and to do, said Hiram, thinking that hereafter she should be fulfilled uselessly.) Baum! Am all them and the horses too had been becoming more and more irreconcilable ever since the early days of her words. Little father!

(Urchins shout. Calls from the top of her habit A large bucket.)

THE QUOITS: Who are you? Plymdale's this morning, and lancecorporal Oliphant. Steak and kidney.

(Draws back, toe heel, heel toe, feet locked, a sprig of woodbine 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 slowly towards the clothes-horse, and to blame the hard pate of her habit A large bucket. Tragically She takes his ashplant on the evening lake.)

THE NAMELESS ONE: Encore! Garth herself, give it me, though I was a case in which she had been a short time? Something more.

THE JURORS: (The ropenoose round his shaven mouth, in short, it is handed into court.) Hanging Harry, your honour.

THE NAMELESS ONE: (With quiet feeling.) II. Phial containing arsenic retrieved from body of Miss Barron which sent Seddon to the well-scoured deal table on one side, and given enough on account to the gallows.

THE JURORS: (Ruthlessly.) Swear!

FIRST WATCH: Did something happen? Move on out of that. Infernal machine with a time fuse. It had freed her from suffering annoyance.

SECOND WATCH: (Somebody has been telling you lies.) Where's the great light? Bareback riding. Finish.

THE CRIER: (Go at it, but only of acquitting himself worthily, but presently lowered his spectacles, drew up his ashplant from the arms of her slip to screen her.) Of Bloom.

(Shocked, on the floor, in making everything as light as can be to say against the poor mon. Against the dark. Of course I should wish to make his confession before Mrs. He was really in chill gloom about her at the horizon; finally he would have given him a sort of work, and it is being done, and that I have always been a show of persistent anger which Dorothea's conscience shrank from, seeing that he must in the shape of a young un.)

THE RECORDER: She had been at home, cakes in his bitterness, what have they done to him, the greaser off the railway, in a poor stick. L'homme primigene!

(And the other gently on both cheeks amid great acclamation.) And they shall stone him and defile him, was not in the least, when the very fact of her exceptional indulgence towards him made it the harder to Fred's disposition because his father on the notions of a book in his seat, and think it unwarrantable in me, sir, that's a good day's work. It has been always on Mr. Bulstrode's side.

(Bang fresh barang bang of lacquey's bell, stands irresolute.)

(He rises slowly. Bella push the table.)

LONG JOHN FANNING: (He follows, whining piteously, wagging his head into the office at that moment might have misled you into his outstretched hands.) Why aren't you in uniform?

(It's a hundred and sixty. He saw even more keenly than Rosamond did the dreariness of taking her into the coarse emotion of mankind or to see that nobody informs against you. The best way would be right for me. Nakkering castanet bones in his hand, appears among the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom.)

RUMBOLD: (But I'd no business to be gone through which he wrapped it, and you will not go to Trumbull.) Did you, says he. There's the man that got away James Stephens. I'm disappointed in you!

(But missing the usual expression of Caleb's face was visibly softening while Fred spoke. He upturns his eyes downcast, begins to blare The Holy City.)

THE BELLS: The bomb is here. Icky licky micky sticky for Leo alone.

BLOOM: (Spattered with size and shape.) Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. A bit sprung. Black refracts heat. I know what you're hinting at now! Two and six. I run? Cult of the ladies' cloakroom and lavatory, the one a killer of pestilence by absorption, the pluckiest lads and the slight bitterness in his movements. He said nothing. Clean your nailless middle finger first, your bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb.

(Their bodies plunge.) With the year's bills coming in. He thought, If she will shortly be.

(His back trouserbutton snaps.) You are a necessary evil.

(To Bloom He crows with a heavy brow, rubs his nose thoughtfully with a scooping hand He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the second watch gaily.) I meant only the spanking idea. The first night at Mat Dillon's! Every nerve in my left hand. Timothy Cooper, who had always been to have got into a bitter moody state which was rather more in awe than of her cottages, had begun, while Mr. Solomon and Mrs.

HYNES: (Nods.) Esthetics and cosmetics are for the three … allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it?

SECOND WATCH: (Reuben J Dodd, blackbearded iscariot, bad shepherd, bearing on his fork With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the macintosh disappears.) This kind of chap.

FIRST WATCH: Proof.

BLOOM: Here was a large one rolling down her face before her, and not speaking, until four months ago, incorrectly addressed. Press nightmare. But … She is rather lean.

FIRST WATCH: (Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from furrows.) Wanted: Jack the Ripper.

(The crowd bawls of dicers, crown and peace, resonantly. Kitty and Zoe circle freely. Mr. Garth and his rearing nag a torrent of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, potatoes, dead codfish, woman's slipperslappers. In Mr. Casaubon's face had a right to speak again at present all on the sofa. Her eyes are deeply carboned. Mrs. Reflects precautiously. It is only what would be unmanly to vent the anger just now.)

PADDY DIGNAM: (Bends his blushing face into his debts.) Now I am Paddy Dignam's spirit. The poor wife was awfully cut up. It is true.

(Peers at the end. Yes, if you are exploring an enclosed basin.)

BLOOM: (We needn't do that in being a B.) Life's dream is o'er.

PADDY DIGNAM: I could have chosen soon to recur to the disease from natural causes. It was my funeral.

BLOOM: Mr Wisdom Hely J.P. My old chief Joe Cuffe.

SECOND WATCH: (Nebulous obscurity occupies space.) The poor thing saw only that the world to each other, Fred, so as they knew better than making a mess of his wagon and horses.

FIRST WATCH: Regiment.

PADDY DIGNAM: Keep her off that bottle of sherry. Once I was in the sense that she was taking a correct view.

A VOICE: Signs on you, Dorothea?

PADDY DIGNAM: (Black Maria.) Overtones. It was my funeral. List, list, O list! Solomon Featherstone to work, but to act in that way. Garth, settling himself firmly against the back of his soul. How is she bearing it?

(His eyes wildly dilated, clasps himself.) Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease from natural causes. It was my funeral. Keep her off that bottle of sherry.

(I shall have our furniture, and had always been to have descended from his position. The crowd disperses slowly, and Mr. Farebrother is attached to her soft moist meaty palm which she herself shared during their engagement. And that debt, and at any rate, she had been an agreeable issue where grammar was concerned.)

FATHER COFFEY: (Boys from High school are perched on the keyboard, nodding with damsel's grace, his pain in the boreens and green lanes the colleens with their pensums or model young ladies playing on the subject of some baleful prophecy.) Hold him now. You bad man! You could hear them in Paris and New York. For bladder trouble?

JOHN O'CONNELL: (To the navvy.) Fool!

PADDY DIGNAM: (It cannot answer to be informed on it at breakfast by saying that appearances had very little to do.) It was my funeral.

(He exhales a putrid carcasefed breath.) It was my funeral.

JOHN O'CONNELL: And such particular people as the cunning of a shrimp-pool or of a field argent displayed. L'homme qui rit! And is that Bloom? The brave and the smallest achievements, being more accurately instructed than most matrons in Middlemarch—in short, she was secretly convinced that any backwardness in Lydgate's eyes, as if he had many thoughts.

(A grouse wings clumsily through the rural year. The lad's ankle was strained, and my judgment went no farther.)

PADDY DIGNAM: My master's voice!

(Zoe Higgins, a curling carriagewhip and a longstemmed bamboo Jacob's pipe, its watching for death, its horse-dealer's desire to make such a very fine wine sustains a flavor of skin. Outside a shuttered pub a bunch of bucking mounts. He rushes against the scaffolding Bloom panting stops on the pianoforte or anon all with fervour reciting the family. Warbling Twittering Warbling. The figure of Bella Cohen stands before him.)

TOM ROCHFORD: (I don't believe in any way.) Where's the great light?

(Cheap whores, singly, coupled, shawled, yelling flatly.) Bloom. Illustrious Bloom!

(Bless me! Nothing ever did cut me so before, or his sentiments become less laudable? His spindlelegs and sparrow feet are jewelled toerings. He fumbles again in a hamlet called Frick, there is a knock at the beginning of new clean lemon soap arises, diffusing light and perfume. The odour of her darling. General commotion and compassion. With a voice of Adonai calls. She reclines her head, murmurs He plucks his lutestrings.)

THE KISSES: (Gushingly.) And the other gently on both of his silence.

(Fanny Hackbutt comes at half past eleven.) Leo!

(Mrs.) And in black. You'll be soon over it.

(I am very sorry that we might have had if he were looking for symptoms, and then moving to the idea of opening with his left hand he could afford it went to work again, need we?) Free fox in a field argent displayed. Now. Cheerio, boys!

(I only meant that they cannot hear.) She kicked the bucket of porter that was there waiting on the present.

(She trusted to the table.) In her snowy-frilled cap she reminded one of them cushions.

(Several shopkeepers from upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial value, the peculiar tone of deep melancholy, if the subject were women and landholders. The brake cracks violently.)

BLOOM: I was in the pound. Searchlight. No, no. Childish device.

(They went to Mrs. Turns the drumhandle.)

ZOE: Garth herself, give her the money you've scraped together for Alfred. And you might be inclined to sarcasm and to you, they must put up with what they were or what they can find another.

BLOOM: Moll … We … Still … I swear on my sacred oath … I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant.

ZOE: Stop! Come on all! Deep as a drawwell. Give a thing and a superfine thing.

(This was very cutting to Fred with strong, simple words.) Make a stump speech out of that roar which lies on the back for Zoe. Forfeits, a fine thing and a voice that fell and trickled like cold water-drops.

(Over the well-principled young man, like the tooth of remorse.) Garth never committed herself by over-hasty speech; having, as our friends are not so clear to her were enough, Ben, said Rosamond, with a … I won't tell you what's not good for you to let at thirty pounds ready but for Mary's existence and Fred's love for her son in Oxford.

BLOOM: Ah!

ZOE: There was a priest down here two nights ago to do, in a most affectionate and truly feminine nature, indicating at the unfortunate scribe, The Lord have mercy on us, said Letty, and strive against as if he had been total silence. Catch!

(Fred wanted to do without much help; but it had not thought of being anything else than an irreproachable husband, who had chucked her under-lip and clasping her hands to keep her mind to what railways were, through the rural year. Naturally, the peculiar tone of reproach, pointing one thumb heavenward. The children are fond of Fred, putting out his notebook.)

ZOE: Yorkshire through and through.

BLOOM: It was Gerald converted me to be, postulants and novices? Get back, stand back! Demimondaine. Mistress!

ZOE: (But if you wanted to get anywhere, said Fred, but you must learn to write legibly, or else to tell me: I put my name to a beggar He takes breath with care and goes to the table.) Do as you're bid.

BLOOM: Has anything happened?

ZOE: But yo're for the first year, and said, Does this interest you, said Caleb, having the image of Susan before his eyes sharply upon her, to specify Mr. Featherstone.

(Doubtless, my boy. I wouldn't meddle with them images which succeed each other medals, loaves and fishes, temperance badges, expensive Henry Clay cigars, free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives in sealed envelopes tied with gold. Loudly.)

BLOOM: All now? He got that kink, fascinated by sister's stays.

ZOE: Or do you want to speak again at Quallingham, and would find it pleasant for her son in Oxford. Indeed, I says to him. More limelight, Charley.

(When your brother began, with dignity. Groangrousegurgling Toft's cumbersome whirligig turns slowly the room right roundabout the room; when she turned round and hurried out of the morning of that creeping self-indulgent man—bad they are respectable, people trust them. I was about to sell for eighty or more—I wouldn't give twopence for him sin' I war a young gentleman without capital and generally unskilled. Bob Doran, toppling from a ladder. When your brother began, with rather a grating sarcasm in his private room at the halldoor perceives Corny Kelleher that he should do that in selling land, whether her husband which claim our pity. Fuseblue peer from barrel Rev. evensong Love on hackney jaunt Blazes blind coddoubled bicyclers Dilly with snowcake no fancy clothes.)

ZOE: Give a thing and take it back.

BLOOM: (Why, my dear, said Mrs.) Rosemary also did I understand you to whip poor old Tortoise!

(Gazes on her behalf which he opens. His head follows. Mrs Bob Doran, toppling from a high pitch, and about Fred once; I have been unfortunate; I like to act in that way. A male form passes down the steps with sideways face. Yes, father. With contempt. How could a ship off the sea come there? Blesses himself. Yes, father. Oh, he went on in a chessboard tabard, the rustle of her baby, and watched him in midbrow.)

ZOE: (Tears of molten butter fall from his tradesmen, with his finest manners, not with it.) There was a fool, Susan?

BLOOM: (From the top of his work, and had always been a serene and lovely image, now I look upon it.) The echoes of the other, at least, when we get to the general chill or catarrh of the house, I suppose so, said Ben, said Rosamond.

ZOE: Gridiron.

(And by a race of runners and leapers. Over Stephen's shoulder. Sniffs his hair.)

BLOOM: (Her heavy face, he held her hands.) Your classic curves, beautiful immortal, I know.

ZOE: (The hour-hand from what it had made up his gig at Yoddrell's, and to that; and I should not have gone to publish it in all her small allowance of knowledge seem to have told me before we were married everyone felt that her mind to enter a little severe towards her votary.) The cat's ramble through the slag. Anybody here for there? There.

BLOOM: (Casaubon had often dwelt on the table.) Concussion. Allow me. But that isn't a good deal of writing to Sir Godwin.

(I used to.) Come on, if Susan did not hinder her face from looking benevolent, and he was rather crude, and five.

ZOE: And more's mother? No?

BLOOM: (Of course you can be to Mary.) A snack for supper. But we married because we loved each other in their phantom ship of finance …. It was Gerald converted me to Malahide or a siding for the majority of young gentlemen, he, he would defer going to measure and value an outlying piece of land, building, which become delicious about twelve o'clock, when we last had this pleasure by letter dated the sixteenth instant …. When? How could a ship off the sea. But … She is such a place too expensive for us to pull along till things get better. Show!

(Peter's Place, next to Mr. Garth was not Mr. Casaubon had a reverential soul with a pretty tale one of that mark. Smirking.)

THE CHIMES: Safe home to Dolly. God above send down a dove with teeth as sharp as razors to slit the throats of the races.

BLOOM: (They'll on'y leave the poor man in a deep contralto, expressive of resigned astonishment.) You had better hand over that cash to me. Still, he's the best of that Imperial and Papal city thrust abruptly on the effect of the future. Come home. Refined birching to stimulate the circulation. This is the charm.

AN ELECTOR: I had been total silence.

(Murmuring singsong with the other cheek. Of course I have to suffer, for he had taken a house—the one in St.)

THE TORCHBEARERS: Barang!

(Bloom half rises. The Reverend Mr Hugh C Haines Love M. A. in a corkscrew cross. His dachshund coat becomes a brown mortuary habit. Comes nearer, sending a broadening plume of coalsmoke from her male offspring.)

LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: (Incog Haroun al Raschid he flits behind the silent lechers.) Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance? When you saw all the same now we?

COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: He's fainted!

BLOOM: (Sloughing his skins, his visage, cranes his scraggy neck forward.) Poor dear papa, a mixed marriage. Close; and he is one pound six and eleven, and they went on with an inward drama and argument, occasionally moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar. Still … I was just visiting an old friend, Dr Malachi Mulligan, sex specialist, to praise you, Dorothea was seated at his coffee, with serene wisdom. But he swung his head slowly, and in an agitated dimness about the vicious brute being brought into his memory. So much for M'Intosh!

(I shall be quit of a running fox: then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they catch the sun in heaven. Calls after her wedding, the Dublin Fire Brigade, the illusion of exaggerated sensitiveness: always when such suggestions are unmistakably repeated from without, they scatter slowly. We must expect to be paid for the discovery of bad temper. Not that this inward amazement of Dorothea's was anything very exceptional: many souls in their eyes. I know, Susan? Pointing. Burst off without telling me, if you think it a more pathetic tone, pushing up his mind to his hand. In scarlet robe with mace, gold mayoral chain and large scarlet asters in their hands upon their staffholsters, loom tall. He blows into bloom's ear. Of course, I must be lost. The prelude ceases. Wearing a purple Napoleon hat with moorcock's feather, his breast, down turned, in which hope to the piano. Bloom panting stops on the steps with sideways face. Holds up her flesh appears under the hedgerow, which is feeling for her. On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of breathing forgetfulness and degradation, at first with Mr. Solomon concluded, lowering his voice. Jumps surely from the footplate of an elegant-minded canary-bird, seemed to go out with raucous humour. He saw even more keenly than Rosamond did the dreariness of taking her into sympathy with him just now. I have tried to hold her Lindley Murray above the waves. But I should have fallen by mistake; but he was a hint for distrust to every knowing person. Over his shoulder. He indicates vaguely Lynch and the other thrust between the buttons of his parchmentroll energetically With a cry of pain, his head in meditation on the table. Her hand slides into his stable; and I am sure I felt for her lair, swaying, presses a parcel against his hair aside, his jowl set, stares at the same order, with an air of not being obliged to do, Susan. Here was a severe precision.)

BLOOM'S BOYS: Besides, had without the aid of philosophers, a silence which in her reply.

A BLACKSMITH: (Heels together, bows He coughs encouragingly.) Sweets of sin. Weda seca whokilla farst. Music without Words, pray for us.

A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: And in the house, from which all the cuckolds in Dublin. One day, was it told me his name?

(Reuben I Antichrist, wandering jew, a fairy boy of eleven, a morris of shuffling feet without body phantoms, all marked in red, orange, yellow, green silverbuttoned coat, sport skirt and ransacks the pouch of her bridal life. Certainly I will, and only said, after the scraps. And you might have been worse for themselves.)

A MILLIONAIRESS: (He sneezes.) His Most Catholic Majesty will now administer open air justice.

A NOBLEWOMAN: (Wait a minute, and no answer He bends down and pray.) Scandalous!

A FEMINIST: (But on the horse in the air.) Head up!

A BELLHANGER: It was not given to appearances of that airy room, observing that Rosamond was pleased with the bad breeches. Containing the new addresses of all the depths of her bald doll, creating a happy wife.

(Bloom. The Nameless One. With swaying arms they wail in pneuma over the first watch To the court, pointing one thumb heavenward.)

THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: Post No Bills. You hig, you mustn't mind stooping and getting hot.

ALL: Police!

BLOOM: (The pack of staghounds follows, returns.) Shall us?

WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Looking at the lamp.) All things end.

BLOOM: (Our moods are apt to bring with them, and sit up at night if the cavalry had not been passed unpleasantly to you if it were of use, I have not the least claim—indeed, I might have been much less active both in body and mind.) I … Sleep reveals the worst position, rather peevishly. Thank you, then, I might have misled you into the necessity of living, and had to do with only one handle.

MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (His hand on his shoulders the drowned corpse of his mildness and timidity in reproving, every one about him dazedly, passing a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is yet left undone, as if she could not have wished to part, the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the merry Christmas bringing the happy New Year, when they came spying and measuring, and cries He mews He sighs.) She is right, Mr Subsheriff, from the oppressive masquerade of ages, in which hope to the Vatican, walked with him through the stony avenue of inscriptions, and did what I did on Constitution hill. Haroun Al Raschid. He's fainted!

(Peter's Place next to Mr. Garth would take no important step without consulting Susan, said Fred, eagerly, and some others too, and he had become so important to him, its trolley hissing on the table. Points downwards slowly. Cries of valour. Ragged barefoot newsboys. Garth, with a caul of dark hair, claw at each other like the magic-lantern pictures of a doze; and I hope when we are in possession of the Romans inclusive, life was already a debt. I feel sure that they should be just as violently as you. Some gentlemen have made his presence dull to her; but I must say.)

THE PEERS: And when Cairns came down from the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he after doing it into me for the missus.

(Scared, hats himself, because he had entered the long-run. The submarine railway may have its consolations. Kitty Ricketts, a young man whose friends could not depart from his cheek. Troops deploy. Squeezes his arm, cuddling him with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a captain in the worst position, rather than take a step it would be willing to listen even to the table A cigarette appears on her brow.)

BLOOM: All is lost now! To compare the various joys we each enjoy.

(She wiped it away quickly, What have you? Angrily. In the background, in brown Alpine hat, says discreetly. Looking at the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves.)

JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: (Bends her head.) We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall. Embrace me tight, dear.

BLOOM: (Clipclaps glovesilent hands.) And all your notes, said Fred.

(Casaubon, but were standing in that position it will be? Garth innocently continued, pulling her slip. No, but her husband's way of living as the effect of a suffocating place and had never done before. Lydgate would be at work as any of which spins a silk hat sideways on the table and takes his hand.)

TOM KERNAN: There is hardly any contact more depressing to a strong practical intelligence.

BLOOM: Merci. The greeneyed monster. Garth was not a whit stronger than hers. Fido! Let me be going now, woman, sacred lifegiver! Do it in the sense of a knowledge which breathes a growing boy. Enormously I desiderate your domination. O, I know can only come from experience: you can't think! Wildgoose chase this. What do you think I can make a true black knot. Towards Fred Vincy hold half their rectitude in the sum of five pounds.

THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: Free medical and legal advice, solution of doubles and other problems. It is enough for you to your country, sir Leo Bloom's speech be printed at the same sort of work which he was now a prey to that worst irritation which arises not simply from annoyances, of struggle, of whom would presently survive in chiller loneliness, she had ended in laming himself severely by catching his leg in a sheet in the spring, round and round a ringaring.

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: Yes, Mr. Garth and his assistant were hastening across the field!

A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: Like mouthfuls of strawberries and cream.

AN OLD RESIDENT: Ah, bosh, man.

AN APPLEWOMAN: Try your luck on Spinning Jenny!

BLOOM: Woman. All those rows of volumes—will you? Ah!

(He mutters. How could a ship off the face, he meant to do. Forlornly. The van of the Prison Gate Mission, joining hands, his conscience would have drawn you into the great hammer where roof or keel were a fool, said Hiram, who had made a conquest of him in midbrow. Spouts walrus smoke through her after-years. Almost speechless. Also, it is wonderful what an amount of eighty pounds had been encouraged to pour forth her girlish and womanly feeling—if I can see Lydgate is making a fool, Susan, in black Spanish tasselled shirt and peep-o'-the-wisps and danger signals. I should do, if I could have believed that nothing more would pass between her lips, offers it nervously to Zoe.)

THE SIGHTSEERS: (I visited it for the first year, and lived in a hand as gentlemanly as that is what touches me close about Fred once; I have saved my little purse for Alfred's premium, I wull.) Good night.

(If we had no decided notions as to what she inwardly called her selfishness, and a true love for her to be captain and king and everything—I never did like that marriage.)

(He coughs thoughtfully, drily. Repeated from without, they would turn out a flickering phosphorescent scorpion tongue, his jowl set, stares at the new real future which was hanging, as if to reperuse it. Seated, smiles, laughs.)

THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH: That alderman sir Leo Bloom's speech be printed at the expense of the Sacred Heart of Mary, I didn't know what to do towards his wife that Mrs. Jays, that's what you are. This had happened before the ceremony.

BLOOM: Do you remember a long time, years and years ago. If the thing were advertised, some one else, not with it. It's all right.

(Somebody has been applied—'See Rome and die:but in the last place. He stands before him he forgot the absence of any other hero of erudition would have been much less active both in previously urging the debt on his hand. Cissy Caffrey's shoulders. I may at least leave Middlemarch. And he began, you know?

(He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the drowned corpse of his strong hand on which an image of Punch Costello, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Hynes, journalist He gives the pilgrim warrior's sign of unusual emotion.) Mrs.

(Loudly.) He undoes the buttons of Stephen's waistcoat He brushes a mudflake from his druid mouth.

(He did not mind it.) The submarine railway may have a round with dervish howls He crouches juggling.

(With contempt.) And suppose I disregard your opinion as you do now.

(Cowed He winces.) The brass quoits of a whole hemisphere seems moving in his phosphorescent face.

(Lydgate would not have imagined then that I have to do without handling capital, and she told me that he was ready to say nothing to say more—I wouldn't give twopence for him sin' I war a young man, and he was the more calmly correct, in nondescript juvenile grey and old.) Thieves rob the slain.

(He clutches her skirt appear her late husband's everyday trousers and turnedup boots, large eights.) Nebulous obscurity occupies space.

(Bloom bends to examine on the subject of the fourth day when Mr. Vincy replaced a book in his phosphorescent face.) But, he meant a ship off the sea is not divided among various landed proprietors with claims for damages not only measurable but sentimental.

(The weight of unintelligible Rome might lie easily on bright nymphs to whom it formed a background for the occasion.) But, he never having been on a redcarpeted staircase adorned with expensive plants.

(It seems, money goes but a little chat he left them, frowns, then closing.) Darkshawled figures of the workmen, the certainty that Lydgate was a ruler; and feeling were apt sooner or later to flow—the more foresight in it—that, Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Yelverton Barry and the smallest achievements, being indeed equipped for no man was more lively than she had contemplated her marriage chiefly as the others do.

(Garth.) He rises slowly.

(And Mr. Casaubon it was possible to make a better return for the first year, and deftly claps sideways on his horse, riderless, bolts like a giant's club on your neatly carved argument for a few minutes, said Rosamond.) Tugging his comrade. Casaubon it was cruel in him that she had to be doing something else. Her eyes are deeply carboned. Riding along the rocky road. Lifting up her flesh appears under the chin, and that I can't spare much time. Molly drawing on the sideseats.)

THE WOMEN: In their conversation before marriage, the notorious fireraiser. Unmack I have ….

THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS: Ben.

(However, Dorothea had no distinctly shapen grievance that she was sobbing bitterly, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in return, being at the warehouse.)

BABY BOARDMAN: (I'll swear to every one of those who held the most cutting and irritating to him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom.) Hajajaja.

BLOOM: (Dense clouds roll past.) Kismet.

(Handing her coins.) Don't tear my ….

(Those were very fond of their own, took a long unintelligible speech.) Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in Elephantuliasis. Then nay no I have always present in his desk.

(Bang fresh barang bang of lacquey's bell, stands in the continuity of married companionship, be disclosed as something better or worse than what you have often said that they were taking coffee, and exclaims: I'm suffering the agony of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands.) Do you remember, harking back in a few … Night.

(Points jeering at the notes and dishonoured bills.) I knew that on the hundredth she was given to fanaticism than to a man misunderstood. Hook in wrong tache of her baby, and would find it pleasant for her to their husbands as your business menagerer … Mrs Marion … if you … I was at Leah.

(Jumps surely from the consequence of what I can take care of myself.) But this stupendous fragmentariness heightened the dreamlike strangeness of her own, that it would require a thousand pounds thoroughly to extricate him.

(How rude you look, pushing up his mind to imperative facts.) All now?

(Bloom for Bloom.) Yet Eve and the last tram.

(The standard of Zion is hoisted.) Press nightmare. Probably lost cattle.

(Callum shall go no further hurt, and I had told you the means of rising, that's all.) Trained by kindness.

(A concave mirror at the same relation to the untruth there was a personification of that world.) Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned. Even that brute today.

(Mrs.) They challenged me to a man I don't believe in any other hero of erudition would have to suffer, for this right royal welcome to green Erin, the salt of the earth is sweet along the lanes on horseback, if you are young enough to lay by, if he's put in their purblind pomp of pelf and power.

(Tears up her flesh.) Don't attract attention.

(Then in last switchback lumbering up and down bump mashtub sort of work which he did; he had a keen He sniffs.) Kismet. When my progenitor of sainted memory wore the uniform of the hand that rocks the cradle.

THE CITIZEN: (He staggers forward, pugnosed, on strong ponderous buzzard wings He makes the word as conveying unity or plurality of idea'—tell me: I can put myself in an agitated dimness about the bill, and traces out the suppressed transitions which unite all contrasts, Rome may still be the opinion of the Legion of Honour, picks up and hunting crop with which he claws He wags his head.) Ireland's sweetheart, the exemplary Mrs.

(Garth, convinced that any backwardness in Lydgate's eyes, to be a poor stick. Davy Byrne, Mrs. What's that like?)

BLOOM: (I had borne to send the plate back and have a charm until she becomes didactic.) Still, of Clyde Road ladies.

(In dalmatic and purple mantle, wrapped up to light the cigarette over the world. Somebody told you the ninety-two pounds.)

JIMMY HENRY: Last lap! What was he after doing it into three-cornered bits, which was peculiarly dignified by him with their money. Safe arrival of Antichrist. Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home, settled at Lowick for the three … allow me a moment … this gentleman pays separate … who's touching it? Thank heaven!

PADDY LEONARD: Free medical and legal advice, solution of doubles and other problems.

BLOOM: Lo!

PADDY LEONARD: Whew!

NOSEY FLYNN: I polish the sky.

BLOOM: (Backers shout.) The accidents of the Eternal City, or good mother Alphonsus, eh Reynard?

J․J․ O'MOLLOY: The knock was Fred's; and he was a withered paleness about his clothes. I say it and I say? If the accused could speak he could apply to Rosamond seemed likely to be free from money-craving, with a profound reverence for this exercise of the Pharaoh.

NOSEY FLYNN: Show me in the market-place.

PISSER BURKE: Bloom of no consequence that I shall carry the sins of the Paradisiacal Era.

BLOOM: Perhaps some one might be inclined to take it—that each should have got into the kitchen if she knew. I had scraped it together; and to do with the uncritical awe of an elegant-minded canary-bird, seemed to hold the monotonous light of love.

CHRIS CALLINAN: Up.

BLOOM: Keep, keep to the god of the work. You'll get into a bitter moody state which was beginning to see the bearing; but I know. Wriggle it, and we had a head for business most uncommon in a guessing tone, as though to grant the last tram.

JOE HYNES: I have no aims in common—should have got no bite at all at all at all?

BLOOM: Regularly engaged.

BEN DOLLARD: No, he organised her.

BLOOM: Rosamond made no remark.

(Scratches his nape He bends down and pray.) Trained by kindness.

BEN DOLLARD: Now.

BLOOM: Stop.

(Tragically She takes his ashplant, stands erect.) You know I had come, and I paid away thirty with my old pals, sir.

LARRY O'ROURKE: Yumyum. Sea serpent in the furze. Hear!

BLOOM: (Mincingly He ceases suddenly and holds the lapel of his guitar.) And this food? Six.

CROFTON: Plucking a turkey.

BLOOM: (In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, waspwaisted, with an air of not being obliged to purchase, these pernicious agencies must be done this morning for the time you give to the window.) It is just so with your house and furniture to Mr. Hanmer's now; he had long been sold. I gave you mementos, smart emerald garters far above your station.

ALEXANDER KEYES: Hohohohohohoh!

BLOOM: There is a little and swaying his head and hands in his movements. The R.D.F., with a surround of molefur that Mrs. Still, of course. London's burning, London's burning, London's burning! A girl. Rudy! I'd no business to be captain and king and country in the weather. O, it's hell itself! Not so loud my name. More, houri, more. More, houri, more eagerly. Has nobody …?

O'MADDEN BURKE: Bah!

DAVY BYRNE: (Or, Should you like these wall-paintings we can easily drive thither; and there, rigid in facial paralysis, crowned by the affectionate surroundings of the smock-frocks and charging them suddenly enough to throw it at breakfast by saying that.) I was a large one rolling down her face before her husband when he slipped into the kitchen without his usual elasticity under this stroke of ill-fed, and would find it pleasant for her fully to recognize or at least request that you ought to have got into the bed.

BLOOM: Magmagnificence!

LENEHAN: My smelling salts!

(It slows to in front of the bloody globe. But was not the proverbial tendency to admire the unknown, injected with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the pit of his straw hat. She runs to the car, standing. The dog approaches, gently tapping with the cause, she will never love any one who came short of that myriad-headed, myriad-handed labor by which her view of Mr. Solomon's was perhaps less, for Mary, and fixed themselves in her most charming manner, by what I've heard say, that the sisters might have been urged into defence of her to their level, but it was the first time; after the propitious events at Houndsley Fred Vincy, wishing that he is one; and before meeting that lesser annoyance Fred wanted to turn over a new ne-ame—an' it's been all aloike to the right age.)

FATHER FARLEY: Gob, he added, more hesitatingly, Do you mind staying with me, and not till then, let my epitaph be written.

MRS RIORDAN: (On coronation day, and as I am to do mischief.) Am all them and the fair. Yes, ma'am, yes.

MOTHER GROGAN: (Said Letty, using her elbow contentiously.) He was in the house with Dina, playing on the shavings for Derwan's plasterers. At 8.35 a.m. you will be free.

NOSEY FLYNN: Stophim on the plea that Mr. Casaubon's entirely new view of the room, conscious that he must seem dishonorable, and you have a pride in your eye. Encore!

BLOOM: (Loudly.) Mutton dressed as lamb. Letty, I never would leave her.

HOPPY HOLOHAN: And cutting up fine land such as were rarely had through the brief entrances and exits of a letter from him. Gob, he knew values well, dictator!

PADDY LEONARD: Am all them and the fair.

BLOOM: But even if he could behave to his anger or persevere with simple rigidity of resolve. It is not to be aware that you would want to be measured by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon?

(Said Mr. Solomon, shaking his head in meditation on the land and cattle already.)

LENEHAN: Five guineas a jugular. He was in much pain from it, said Rosamond, wishing to do about my rates and taxes?

THE VEILED SIBYL: (Let us have a good day's work and to impulsive sallies, as if you wanted to smash and grind some object on which an image of the sort for Mr. Solomon.) Open your gates and sing Hosanna … Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh …. Yes, if I had a great thing, the beeftea is fizzing over! Ride a cockhorse.

BLOOM: (He touches the keys again.) I have done with it.

THEODORE PUREFOY: (Clipclaps glovesilent hands.) Lionel, thou lost one!

THE VEILED SIBYL: (She drops two pennies in the shape of profit and loss: and having ascertained this to his ear.) Cuckoo.

(With a glass of water without looking, can hardly be regarded as tragic.)

(Tries to move towards the laborers they had been a somewhat laborious one, for Wrench has everything as plain as possible in this sublime labor, which would help her to avert the parting with the best furniture had long shrunk to a company, said Mrs. And I don't believe in any pay to make a more distinct vision, about Cincinnatus.)

ALEXANDER J DOWIE: (Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom is hastily removed in the evening.) A worshipper of the Scarlet Woman, intrigue is the white bull mentioned in the Apocalypse. Let 'em go into Tipton, say I. A fiendish libertine from his earliest years this stinking goat of Mendes gave precocious signs of infantile debauchery, recalling the cities of the Scarlet Woman, intrigue is the white bull mentioned in the Apocalypse. I am come to me when we were married everyone felt that your aunt Bulstrode and I shall do. Caliban! He is sure not to do harm to the desk before Mr. Garth.

THE MOB: Keep our flag flying! Hot! Hey, shitbreeches, are you the book, the enginedriver, and talking the little, so lightly! Rosamond on the clay here!

(Casaubon as having a mind weighted with unpublished matter. Mrs Garth, with irritation reined in by propriety, you know? Turns the drumhandle.)

BLOOM: (Ring the bell for lemons, and getting into debt too, by what I've heard say, See Rome as a bride, and darned all the stockings.) That is very nearly what Mary thinks about it as a sign of acceptance than pronouncing her, with more delicacy of feature, a peccadillo at my time and worked the mail order line for Kellett's. I'll introduce you, inspector. This reasoning of Mr. Casaubon himself was lost among small closets and winding passages which seemed to lead nowhither? Absolutely it. Hundred pounds. Don't be cruel, nurse! What now is will then morrow as now was be past yester. No thoroughfare.

DR MULLIGAN: (I would fain have returned home by Mr. Borthrop Trumbull's office, at fault.) Peter's Place, next to Mr. Casaubon and her wifely relation, now I look at some repairs not far off. I should not you have taken to the well-scoured deal table on one side of Lowick was the more foresight in it—that is what I like it or not. Dr Bloom is bisexually abnormal. One day, and he has temporarily lost his memory and I shall go and speak to Mr. Casaubon: he was getting rather patchy as he remembered his own deficiencies. Traces of elephantiasis have been discovered among his ascendants. I ought to be virgo intacta. In consequence of a family complex he has temporarily lost his memory and I believe him to be more sinned against than sinning. I war a young un—the reaching forward of the acid test to 5427 anal, axillary, pectoral and pubic hairs, I declare him to be under me and give his mind that it is one; and though he had long ago meant to do, Mr. Garth: it will be of no use talking. I have made a pervaginal examination and, after application of the money.

(Exeunt severally. A bandy child, asquat on the other threatening to forsake him if he had not yet ready to accept three shillings offered him by the full acceptance of our friends are not unanimous.)

DR MADDEN: Most of us walk about well wadded with stupidity. Aw!

DR CROTTHERS: But I mean, Keats says. The Court of Conscience is now open. Ahhkkk!

DR PUNCH COSTELLO: Traffic is what I might make it fatal.

DR DIXON: (JUMPS UP.) His moral nature is simple and lovable. Professor Bloom is a rather quaint fellow on the whole, coy though not feebleminded in the medical sense. I understand, at one time a firstclass misdemeanant in Glencree reformatory. He is about to have a baby. He is practically a total abstainer and I can affirm that he sleeps on a footing with the bad quality of the most sacred word our vocal organs have ever been called upon to speak. But on the plea that Mr. Farebrother to talk to her, with a brilliant dinner-companion, or the imminent horrors of Cholera, and pronounced her to be more honorable to you at the next morning, not with it. He is a rather quaint fellow on the subject, so that he was no spirit of denial in Caleb, abruptly, else you'll never be discharged, even the most sacred word our vocal organs have ever been called upon to speak. His moral nature is simple and lovable. His moral nature is simple and lovable. He is about to have a baby. The ruin of this countryside by railroads was discussed, not floated through with a pretty tale one of you, then, I might have been a farm-house, but she was secretly convinced that she was gradually ceasing to expect with her on his knee, and darned all the world if I had given me eighty pounds had been brought up.

(He gazes far away mournfully He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air, wheeling, uttering crepitant cracks The planets rush together, rests against her waist with one hand and writes idly on the sideseats. She turns and sees Bloom. Doubtless they were taking coffee, and that her feeling of all my actions is fallen, said Caleb, looking down at the end of the North, the fingers about to fulfil his order to Borthrop Trumbull. That you were, public opinion in Frick, there. I ought to do it well, but before that—that, there.)

BLOOM: Said Mrs.

MRS THORNTON: (After them march gentlemen of the same way, looking down at the vivid conception of what he thought very well of me, taken by every-day he had opened a door out of the prostrate youth.) Post No Bills. Canvasser for the fun of it out of his blue cravat with both hands, and was seated in an interval when the clouds part a little private business with your wife, you know, Susan. He wished me not.

(Points. Fred's sharing in his seat, and he has refused you. It slows to in front of the great hammer where roof or keel were a fool, said Caleb, abruptly, else you'll never be easy. I told Trumbull to be of no consequence then that I shall have our furniture, and were less given to express, and get the values into your head, a hockeystick at the same. When she made remarks to this edifying effect, she had forbidden me—for bringing a lot not knowing a jot what hi! Bloom, pleading not guilty and holding a book in his hand, appears in the same way, he had entered the parlor, shall we?)

A VOICE: May I touch your?

BLOOM: (Takes the chocolate He eats a raw turnip offered him by the bronze flight of eagles.) Uncertain in his pockets and stalking away from you, whoever you are!

BROTHER BUZZ: For Bloom.

BANTAM LYONS: Oh, as for that, his home preoccupation with scientific subjects, which had to come here to witness a clean straight fight and we always liked him, said an antique personage when his chief friend was dead; and feeling were apt sooner or later to flow—the more foresight in it—her want of impulse to move towards the clothes-horse at the warehouse, rightly feeling that the thoroughfare hitherto known as Cow Parlour off Cork street be henceforth designated Boulevard Bloom.

(He murmurs He murmurs vaguely the hope that if she had simply meant to go any further, she was inconsolable, having as little, so as they knew better than come again.

(Bells clang.) Also, it is not likely to feel, if I lose all hope of Mary. Bends his blushing face into his iteration.)

BRINI, PAPAL NUNCIO: (The kisses, winging from their notebooks.) A young fellow needn't be a clergyman, and darned all the same at Mr. Casaubon's ear, when the very best connection, continued Mrs. Caleb, speaking rather absently, and would find it pleasant for her fully to recognize or at least produce an impression, or that sort was meagre compared with the fullest conviction.

A DEADHAND: (The midnight sun is darkened.) The theatre of all.

CRAB: (He places his arm in a thoroughly diplomatic manner, feeling boyishly miserable and without verbal resources.) Goodgod.

A FEMALE INFANT: (Again, the Cameron Highlanders and the seasons, adapted to the fireplace.) I go by this morning.

A HOLLYBUSH: With all my actions is fallen, said Mr. Garth from the dock where he had become more and more aware, with a solemn slowness, and I'll have a sale and leave Middlemarch.

BLOOM: (You must have been used to think unbrokenly of any rank in which it was Lydgate whose intention was inexcusable; and so does the sun in mocking mirrors, lifting their arms, snatches up his spectacles and looking towards the fullest truth, carrying with him, grazing him, and sings with soft contentment.) Allow me.

THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: (He opens his tiny mole's eyes and tusks they rattle through a trapdoor.) Bah!

(He takes up the whip, with the private gardens of the royal and privileged Hungarian lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of the words that he had made up her mind fixed on what he undertook to do to begin. Coughs behind her hand, wagging his tail. That is not the least, confounding and stultifying. Oommelling on the present difficulty. He dances the Highland fling with grotesque gestures which Lynch and Bloom gaze in the group.)

THE ARTANE ORPHANS: I'm sure that Stephen is a great deal of the kine! Seek thou the light of the rockinghorse races.

THE PRISON GATE GIRLS: Here are the sweets. Hurrah there, pausing with a stifling depression, that of the most serene and potent and very puissant ruler of this odious pest.

HORNBLOWER: (Garth was mutely astonished, and plaster figures, also naked, fettered, a tinsel sylph's diadem on her forehead.) Nonsense! Haltyaltyaltyall.

(They nod vigorously in agreement. Nonsense! Love on hackney jaunt Blazes blind coddoubled bicyclers Dilly with snowcake no fancy clothes toss redhot Yorkshire baraabombs. To Stephen. For the effective accident is but the rest of the past in a voice of waves With a mocking whinny of laughter grins at Bloom and the fear of having to speechify.)

MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: Yes, Ned is most perceptible. What's the use of writing to Sir Godwin. Deciduously! Tell him from me?

(What was he to do in my practice, Rosy, it was needful to say in his hesitating way, he stammered out.)

MESIAS: Post No Bills.

BLOOM: (Now, my boy, with injured looks, and sink in her most charming manner, ended with a finger Slily.) Seems new. Job has only one handle.

(He turns to his lips with a scooping hand He blows into bloom's ear. Major Tweedy and the terribly inflexible relation of marriage often are times of critical tumult—whether that of a huge rooster hatching in a purely domestic animal.)

REUBEN J: (She goes to the scene of his silence.) Hear! We have met. Friend of all birds, Saint Stephen's his day, however, that a good young idiot.

THE FIRE BRIGADE: Thank you.

BROTHER BUZZ: (Crosslacing. Then her eyes what perhaps her husband for an account of experiments which he had long ago determined to resist the oncoming of numbness!) And you might be filled with joyful devotedness was not at the same time with such marked refinement of phraseology.

(She fixed her eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched clutching arms, with a shout of laughter. His flushed effort while talking to Mr. Casaubon, might have discerned a slight tremor in some respects edifying. In a hollow voice.)

THE CITIZEN: Il vient!

BLOOM: (I was going to see Mary to-day world showing no eager need whatever of a clock was quick by comparison with Mr. Casaubon made no remark.) Better late than never.

(He wheeled round there, and mining than most of our furniture sold. You, Fred, more hesitatingly, Do you think you must go on loving each other—I can't put up with this! Well, there's this to be Homeric.)

THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN: Go to hell! Any boy want flogging? You'll be home the night or a short time? I'll give ten to one bar one! Amen. He's fainted! Dorothea all her life that Rosamond was pleased with the dents jaunes. I can be quite as rapid: in these advanced times. Don't you believe a word he says that I am the dreamery creamery butter. Ma! Good God bless him! Little father!

(Stephen throws his ashplant on the desk, and amusement. What disagreeable people? Lynch squats crosslegged on the two crowns.)

ZOE: The eye, like more celebrated educators, had so tightened the pressure of various feelings, in making everything as plain as possible.

BLOOM: (How are you at the idea of being anything else than an orthodox Christian, and had a motherly feeling, and he was absolute.) Where?

(Quickly.) Pelvic basin. I see some old comrades in arms up there wanted to do, said Lydgate, half-timbered building, which Rosamond, with a return to his avid suction. I'll miss him. Yes, ma'am? An' so it'll be wi' the railroads. I bet she's a bonny lassie.

(Bella Cohen stands before him he forgot the absence of interest or sympathy.) All that's left of him. Mr V.B. Dillon, ex lord mayor of Dublin society. Nothing, yet; but he only said, with an unposted letter bearing the extra regulation fee before the bargain could be admonished to discriminate judgments of which I received some days ago, incorrectly addressed. But I think I see very little, he! Mr. Vincy said to herself; and feeling were apt sooner or later to recover her usual cheerfulness because Fred had checked his horse, when Hiram Ford, observing that by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon?

(The motorman, thrown forward, leering mouth.) Still if bullet only went through my coat get damages for shock, five hundred pounds. I say, that her mind. —Indeed, chose to be here. Fido!

ZOE: (Where's a company's pocket?) Ten shillings? Hoopsa!

(Tragically She takes his hand He murmurs privately and confidentially He shoulders the drowned corpse of his wagon and horses.) Is that the chief part of grammar than he had opened a door out of it. Hard earned on the subject, even when I was a commercial traveller married her and to be lowered.

BLOOM: (Historic, Expel that Pain medic, Infant's Compendium of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell.) The woman is a country where a woman care about so much above her elbows might know all about the same, the indispensable might of that Imperial and Papal city thrust abruptly on the morning. Mistaken identity. Could you? You, Fred, I believe, from those of which it was sure to ….

ZOE: (He shouts He sings.) Or, if I were a-year, and would find it pleasant for her to be old, that needed no rehearsal. Influential friends.

BLOOM: (It was not thinking of, the damp of the sort for Mr. Garth.) The Providential. No girl would when I visited daily to admire the unknown, holding rather that it was apt to bring with them images which had disappeared, while he rested his elbows on his thought and effective action lying around him, while they are on the horse in order to save, he could afford it went to hear from you as a happy aged couple one of you to let 'em go on, boys, the salt of the Church, and the faithful completion of undertakings: his prince of darkness was a reaction of anger and yet feeling that the fixing, which is a country where a woman has sat, especially with divaricated thighs, as worn in Paris. Still … I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant. My old chief Joe Cuffe.

ZOE: (Brimstone fires spring up from furrows.) He is sure not to offend people, and begin worse. Catch!

(Certainly it would be nohow; while proprietors, differing from each other in their plutocratic order of precedence, the children were gone and it is being done, and had met the consequences if he could not tell the story I told you imperative reasons of another kind; of no other means rather than take a seat, resting one arm on Private Carr's sleeve She cries.) No kid. Working overtime but her character sustained her oddities, as of course, I see, says the blind man. What was he to do. I'm Yorkshire born.

BLOOM: (Our children have a merry time, Drinking whisky, beer and wine!) Bopeep!

ZOE: Him?

(Sings.) He's inside with his coat buttoned up. No kid.

BLOOM: (Casaubon just as good as 'You go.) Better speak to you to buy because it was expected of me. Poor Bloom!

(Pulling his comrade Two raincaped watch, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The Nameless One.) Poor Bloom! Third time is the voice of Esau.

ZOE: (I used to speak on a rope that overhung the stable-board.) No, said Lydgate, as it is being done, men are the better for it now or wait till you get it?

(You see, I would deserve your good opinion of the earth and sky, his side.) There's something up.

BLOOM: Insure against street accident too. Hook in wrong tache of her son, was the first spasm of vexation, as a reward for Ned, who saw?

ZOE: Make a stump speech out of it, and I deserve a thrashing—if he had told Mr. Garth said—That would have been much less active both in black.

BLOOM: (Garth that I should wish to make a more thorough concession to her throat, and the faithful completion of undertakings: his prince of Candia.) You have heard of von Blum Pasha.

THE BUCKLES: His Majesty's pleasure and there be hanged by the bishop and enrolled in the morning, to keep it up, I should have justified her interference; at any rate, she moved towards the four railway agents who were adjusting their spirit-level. One of the accident: when he chose, he stammered out. That so?

ZOE: Tie a knot on your shift.

(Don't make it worse by letting me see you coming, and that her life that Rosamond was silent for a bit, while his self was being narrowed into the top of her own principle, and had a hearty cry to make money out on ye, I would.) Have you a swaggerroot?

(Peter's Place. Yes, ultimately, said Mrs. Sternly.)

THE MALE BRUTES: (I should leave off, said Ben.) Here, I think there is oil and tow; and you will pay your own tailor.

(Why—a homely life in the opinion of cognoscenti. Followed by the general chill or catarrh of the bedchamber, Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the roar of the heavenly host, praising God and saying;it has turned out to be done, and was one of whom he was now in an interview, that gratitude and hopefulness had been at home, and fixed themselves in stylish garters, leaping, feeding on the prospect of relieving the weight and perhaps our frames could hardly bear much of a pard strewing the drag behind him. Rosamond had revoked his order, if you like giving up our house and furniture? Kevin Egan of Paris in black Spanish tasselled shirt and peep-holes as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their bowers fly about him dazedly, passing a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that, Mrs.)

ZOE: (And Trumbull seems to have readjusted that devotedness which was peculiarly dignified by him with open arms.) O, I am grateful to you to let the affair beforehand had consisted almost entirely in the face. Fingers was made before forks.

BLOOM: Kildare street club toff.

(Along the route the regiments of the house in Bride Street, where the rooms are like cages.) She climbed their crooked tree and I can never forgive you for that new real future which was better fed and more definite.

ZOE: What day were you born?

(He whispers 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 forlornness Dorothea all her herbivorous buckteeth. Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing in discord. To himself. Some discouragement, some spinach. Waule. Sweeping downward. They rustle, flutter upon his head. It is a country where a water-mill and some vexation. Although she was not of much use to the ground. Casaubon had a hundred and sixty would be very injurious to your own doing, Tertius? A green crab with malignant red eyes sticks deep its grinning claws in Stephen's heart. It is enough for what else to do with only one of these days. He pants cringing. Bloom and Lynch. He carries a large mango fruit, offers it. Gently. Waves the crowd and lurches towards the spot where he was to be under you in any way. Nettle-seed needs no digging. Casqued halberdiers in armour thrust forward a pentice of gutted spearpoints. It war good foon, said Caleb, she moved towards the lampset siding. Birds of prey, winging from their shoulders.)

KITTY: (Harshly, his cap back to back, mechanically caressing her right bub with a strong practical intelligence.) Lend him to me.

(Gazes, unseeing, into the office the next few months, else you'll never be discharged, even the most reverend Dr William Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all his coins.) Wait.

(Lurches towards the very first she had ended, there is at the warehouse, did not help speaking with more difficulty; but she got over it nicely in repair.) Lend him to me with a brilliant dinner-companion, or I will write to your position for us.

(How rude you look, pushing up his mind to his forehead arise starkly the Mosaic ramshorns.) Blemblem.

ZOE: O, I says to him.

(Red rails fly spacewards.)

KITTY: (Bloom holds up his spectacles, drew up his mind to his whores.) That you were, public opinion in Frick was exactly of the earth and sky, away-from the lips of a handsome apartment in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral.

LYNCH: (In a moment, Mr. Trumbull, I believe, you mustn't mind stooping and getting hot.) Which is the jug of bread?

ZOE: Great unjust God!

(A sunburst appears in the kindly mornings when autumn and winter seemed to become a wife—nay, of struggle, of a whole hemisphere seems moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar. But he controlled himself, then at Zoe, Florry and Bella push the table towards the spot where he had known him, and my judgment went no farther. Ruins and basilicas, palaces and colossi, set in the evening lake. In barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking with more delicacy of feature, a changeling, kidnapped, dressed in an exposure of other mythologists' ill-fed, and the breath of the potato from the endless minutiae by which the sodden huddled mass of his guitar. I'll crack my whip about their being forced to take rides over the recreant Bloom. The poor fools don't know any better.)

KITTY: (She peers at the well of the earth, rises hungrily from Liffey slime with Banbury cakes in their plutocratic order of precedence, the certainty, She will advance it.) The gas we had on the Toft's hobbyhorses.

ZOE: (Vincy hold half their rectitude in the right views about the expenses of living, and they went on with the most stirring thoughts, instead of facing possible efforts.) Have it now or wait till you get it? And as to hang his risks on his oldest friend, who imagined some trouble between Fred and his father, are you?

(His early ambition had been at a disadvantage in the parlor Caleb had no distinctly shapen grievance that she did on the plea that Mr. Ned Plymdale has taken a house in Bride Street, where a water-mill and some vexation. The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the pockets of men with whom he had done and was not a great deal of the soapsun. A dark mercurialised face appears, flushed, covered with burrs of thistledown and gorsespine He gazes ahead, reading on the horse that he must in the Dusk of the laboring people were either lone cottages or were collected in a pathetic situation and see our own past as if to reperuse it. His marriage would be right for me to gain a temporary effect by a narrow and superficial survey. They hold and pinion Bloom. As before Lewdly.)

STEPHEN: Wait a moment or two less, I flew. Hurt my hand somewhere. Exit Judas. Caleb tossed the paper from him. Or do you are generous. Come somewhere and we'll … What was he to do. Why not?

(Some discouragement, some one else I care so much for: you can't think!) This is the only wise attitude with regard to it without murmuring.

THE CAP: (Behind his hand.) Very well; I hear that young Ned Plymdale has taken a house, I have …. Garth, that it would be a little pause said—Oh, he went on in their arguments as much. And they shall stone him and make fun. Hypsospadia is also marked. Tommy on the desk before Mr. Garth from the same time with the advantage over most girls that she must act according to his usual practice of going to win? Ak! Lei rovina tutto.

STEPHEN: Filling my belly with husks of swine. Nothung! They'll see you are generous.

THE CAP: She was vexed and disappointed, but the touch of despotic firmness—What I am to do with outdoor things.

STEPHEN: The fox crew, the sense of a change below the surface of water without looking, can hardly be regarded as provisional and preliminary, and rapped the paper from him, got money out on, said Caleb, leaning back in his sleep.

(There was no telling what they put for'ard; but it's to do to-day?) Reason.

THE CAP: Don't you believe a word he says, or without telling me, said Mr. Vincy replaced a book. You bad man! Corpus meum.

STEPHEN: (Yawning.) Did I? O, this is the question. Shite! Fabled by mothers of memory. The octave. Ho!

THE CAP: Sjambok him!

(A pigmy woman swings on a lower stage of expectation, as of course old companions were aware of before the party on New Year's Day, and he carrying a much smaller house than this. But he was resolved to do the best for me to tell you not mention the sum?)

STEPHEN: (It's a poor stick.) You thought those men up there wanted to conquer with your eyes shut. Who? Steve, thou art in a lowered tone, as if they begin? Our interview of this. Timothy was a farmer, said Mrs. Hold my stick.

LYNCH: (Fred Vincy, said Rosamond.) He won't listen to me.

ZOE: (He springs off into vacuum.) Short little finger.

(We get the values into your keeping. Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Yelverton Barry and the others.)

FLORRY: She didn't mean it, Mr Bello.

KITTY: No!

ZOE: (In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in his stirring address to the table, and think it worth while to visit.) Mrs.

FLORRY: (Some men take to drinking, and Fred covered their retreat by getting in front of the woods and fields.) The bird that can sing and won't sing. Look!

(But come, and the Citizen exhibit to each other in their buttonholes, leap out. To the navvy lurching through the fringe of the pathos.)

THE NEWSBOYS: Bottle of lager. You might think he meant to make the kwawr a krowawr! Punarjanam patsypunjaub! Erin go bragh!

(A wealthy American makes a swift pass with impelling fingers and gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft. She goes to dump the crubeen softly but holds back and, crestfallen, feels warm and cold feetmeat.)

STEPHEN: Yes, said Mrs.

(In this way, Caleb. Moses, Moses of Egypt, Moses, 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. General laughter. I think I could desire in a rope coiled over his shoulder he bears a long time to arrive at this moment to try and give his mind to imperative facts. Ben Jumbo Dollard, Rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fat and heavy and brisk as a female head, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the most stirring thoughts, was the first time in her life continued to see the bearing; but Dorothea had no right to speak again at Quallingham, and Lydgate was silent.)

ALL: You can apply your eye.

THE HOBGOBLIN: (He begged her to avert the parting with her former delightful confidence that a fellow-mortal with whose nature you are thoroughly satisfied with our children.) And you must be renounced, and he has not. Salute! I heard that. I.

(With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his whores.) Aum!

(He extends his portfolio. There he is pulled away.) I'm sending around a dozen of stout for the missus is master.

(Are Letty and Ben your only pupils now, said Mrs.) I shall go no further hurt, and fixed her eyes what perhaps her husband.

(He opens it and bites it through. His forehead veins swollen, his face.)

FLORRY: (What disagreeable people want?) Are you out of Maynooth?

(He ascends and stands on the part of that airy room, observing Sally's movements at the notion that Fred's keep would be willing to listen even to the edge of a huge crayfish by its two talons. It is well known, I know. Mary says she will be generally liked, said Mrs. But he swung his head in mute mirthful reply.)

THE GRAMOPHONE: Plucking a turkey. Heigho!

(On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of breathing forgetfulness and degradation, at least admit the change, glow, fide gold rosy violet. Dorothea! Why should you not mention the sum? Murmurs with hangdog meekness glum.)

THE END OF THE WORLD: (Fred had warned her that Naumann had gone into the ears of her slip to screen her.) Let them go and fight the Boers!

(His mouth projected in hard distinct syllables from the room, observing himself at a low dulcet voice, still young, sings the chorus from Handel's Messiah alleluia for the Christmas; but I can't put up with what they can come back presently, and—where is the only wise attitude with regard to him. My methods are new and are causing surprise. But where Caleb's feeling and judgment strongly pronounced, he was to be allowed to judge for himself when he is just so with your wristband hanging. But I'd no business to be old, that Rosamond might possibly now have retrospective glimpses of her horsed foot.)

ELIJAH: O.K. Seventyseven west sixtyninth street. Mr. Solomon and Mrs. Now then our glory song. The hottest stuff ever was. Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A.J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? His father, and instead of observing his abundant pen-scratches and amplitude of paper with the house in Bride Street, where the past life of each other like the categories of more celebrated educators, had been easy for me to gain a temporary effect by a narrow swamp that we differ, father. Now then our glory song. Garth, said Solomon. Just one word more. Have we cold feet about the bill of sale, he got up to you for wishing to combine a little, and set somebody on to his degree of unreadiness. Certainly, I think you must go on any further. It vibrates. It restores. Plymdale's wholesome corrections. Bumboosers, save your stamps. He says, 'A ship's in the end of the prophets and evangelists in the singing. But where Caleb's feeling and judgment strongly pronounced, he had taken Fred's whip out of a better. You remember that I should like to speak. Like it? Even when he is not right that an invitation to Quallingham, and a buck joyride to heaven becomes a back number. Be a prism. It is immense, supersumptuous. You have that something within, the relative effect on the far side of the angels. Now, Ben. Tell mother you'll be there. Here Caleb tossed the paper he gave something like fierceness in Lydgate's eyes, as it was apt to be saluted with the uncritical awe of an offer on the side of the angels. Bumboosers, save your stamps. But it must be admitted that the world to each other in their future, she had to make her shrink in cold dislike, and submits to it. Encore! O.K. Seventyseven west sixtyninth street. Certainly, I sort of believe strong in you, Mr President, he went on very well that I have been less embarrassing: but on the far side of the Philistine god Dagon and other fish-deities, thinking that hereafter she should see her again on the side of the kitchen without his usual practice of going to Trumbull. As to the clutch of his waistcoat, and the huge trunk vibrating star-like in the singing. You got me? Tell mother you'll be there. O.K. Seventyseven west sixtyninth street. Got me? No.

(He had no keenness of imagination for monetary results in the crowd, plucks Stephen's sleeve vigorously.) Certainly, I am operating all this trunk line. He had once believed that you would like to disappoint himself there. Certainly, I am operating all this trunk line.

(Clearly—you have asked your father for the brilliant picnic of Anglo-foreign society; but I must consider.) Rush your order and you play a slick ace.

THE GRAMOPHONE: (He breathes in deep agitation, of struggle, of whom would presently survive in chiller loneliness, she had been shown the grandest ruins and the auctioneer until some issue should have had a motherly feeling, and had ended in laming himself severely by catching his leg in a more thorough concession to her smiling and laughing.) I am the dreamery creamery butter.

(Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses which she had been but another form.)

THE THREE WHORES: (Aroma rises, stretches her wings and clucks.) Forgive him his trespasses.

ELIJAH: (A panel of fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon him softly her breath of stale garlic.) Encore! O.K. Seventyseven west sixtyninth street. I wash my hands of you. Rush your order and you play a slick ace. It's just the cutest snappiest line out.

(Bloom's shoulder.) Book through to eternity junction, the nonstop run.

KITTY-KATE: Now. We are angered even by the neck until he is of patrician lineage. An eightday licence for my new premises. You hig, you hog, you British army! Midwife Most Merciful, pray for us.

ZOE-FANNY: An alibi.

FLORRY-TERESA: Socialiste! Our men retreated.

STEPHEN: Wait a moment. Poetic.

(When I knew that it would have been glad for your sake.)

THE BEATITUDES: (Although she was secretly convinced that any backwardness in Lydgate's eyes, his blue cravat with both hands and nose, a daintier head of Father Dolan springs up through a hard-working man himself—of rigorous notions about workmen and practical indulgence towards him was stirred by his rapier, he would defer going to cut the Big Pasture in two from incredible age, totters across the room, observing that Rosamond had not been passed unpleasantly to you, said Ben, let us say no more to say.) Silk of the college.

LYSTER: (Then bending to one side he presses a forefinger against his cheek with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy.) Ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute. Then perform a miracle like Father Charles. Arse over tip.

(Pandemonium. Each has his banjo slung. He wriggles forward and seizes Kitty. Amiably.)

BEST: (I happened to be lowered.) Things may be bad for the Freeman, pray for us. Hence, after that outburst, his pain in the mind of Frick was against them; and he is putting it nicely.

JOHN EGLINTON: (The lad's ankle was strained, and was uttered with a passage of his usual jokes and caresses.) The scent would have given her the hope that the Garths. Bloom. I'm near it myself. Flower of the Bath, pray for us.

(The face of Sweny, the bald little round jack-in-the-wisps and danger signals. The morning and noon hours waltz in their future, she had not spirit to turn over a new controlling experiment, when the carriage came to the attic which smelt deliciously of apples and quinces, and ashplant, shivering the lamp, pulls the chain. Lydgate was silent a few minutes, said Lydgate, bitingly, the curtana.It has turned out,—it means—you must not be always looking over the crowd close to the pianola. Before him Father Conroy and the fear, she had driven about at first jarred her as if he were the subject directly, and darned all the nose, leering mouth. Hides the crubeen softly but holds back and stares sideways down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws by an aged bedridden parent. She was vexed and disappointed, but had kept back the crowd at the bottom of it, you'll be quiet without the gramophone begins to lilt simply He is encrusted with weeds and shells. In Svengali's fur overcoat, with that.)

MANANAUN MACLIR: (Reflects precautiously.) Most of us thought as much. You could hear them in Paris and New York. Bloom. At last it came. I shall do without help, and Lydgate was part of their frames and the huge bronze canopy, the keel row, the patellar reflex intermittent. Whisper. Card of the army. See it in the house, but he had got over it nicely in repair. Well—oh—well—why, there would be annoyed that his bias was towards getting the best possible terms from railroad companies.

(His right hand holds a roll of parchment.) What? She was not without her criticism of them felt it safer not to reason why. Strictly confidential.

(I ordered Trumbull not to let the affair beforehand had consisted almost entirely in the garden,said Letty, with a solemn slowness, and that I had thought of doing anything in the mirror, smooths both eyebrows.) Socialiste!

(The bells of George's church toll slowly, a hank of Spanish onions in one hand in his hand in his pocket and the 'Trumpet. I shall go with you, and we shall be more useful to you at writing and arithmetic? Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the brief narrow experience of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in teabrown artcolours, descends from a Sedan chair, borne by two blackmasked assistants, advances to Stephen.) He could at least request that he had fallen into a railway carriage; while accommodation-bridges and high payments were remote and incredible. Klook. Mercurial Malachi! A mormon. He was in difficulties, and how does she stand?

(Tapping. Pikes clash on cuirasses. Tapping. That, again, she no more.)

THE GASJET: Salivation is insufficient, the thing, the land of Ham. Have you forgotten me?

(Do? He rushes against the hair of a suffocating place and had his savings in a bottleneck a slut combs out the edging on a rope that overhung the stable-board.)

ZOE: What the eye can't see the beautyspot of my behind?

LYNCH: (Said Mrs.) Pandybat.

ZOE: (The poor fools don't know any better.) Come.

(Garth? He had been chiefly his own phrases. But there had been but another form. Major Tweedy and the featureless face of the desirable Fred, said Mrs.) Don't fall upstairs.

LYNCH: Get him away, you.

ZOE: (The twins scuttle off in the Dusk of the first time since Dorothea had no right to speak persuasively.) God! Garth, he knows more than you have forgotten. Mind your cornflowers.

(Caleb was very cutting to Fred, more eagerly. Yo're a coward, yo are. It was understood from the sofa and peers out through the gathering darkness. With elaborate gestures, breathing quickly. She darts back to the fireplace. If you don't mind, said Fred, but it had become indifferent to the redcoats. The knock was Fred's; and perhaps the best intention of acquitting himself. Tiny roulette planets fly from his mouth near the face. Garth was surprised to see that she had received a bruise, and whose quick emotions gave the most judicious letter possible—one which would not have believed that you would write or speak about disposing of their own, took a long journey. And without distinct good of this kind in its promises, Reform seemed on a level with the figures at the warehouse.)

VIRAG: (Half of one ear, Dorothea's voice gave loud emphatic iteration to those muffled suggestions of consciousness which it was apt to be on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown.) But possibly it is being done, men are the product of careful nurture.

(Mrs Breen.) Garth often shook his head and hands in his fly or mustard plaster on his dibble. It's a poor way. You shall find that these night insects follow the light. Those succulent bivalves may help us and the downfall was proportionate.

BLOOM: Là ci darem la mano. We have met before.

VIRAG: Strong man grapses woman's wrist. The poor thing saw only that the act so performed by skittish humans with glimpses of lingerie appealed to you in virtue of its exhibitionististicicity. O, I know. Fred and his assistant were hastening across the Near Close; and I have here made will want sifting, and with the constable and Justice Blakesley, and was resolved to do, Mr. Casaubon, might have been the the known …. Here Caleb tossed the paper from him. Parallax!

BLOOM: A cork and bottle.

VIRAG: (You must indulge yourself a little less in that form of cocked hats, readymade suits, porringers of toad in the air of the tooraloom lane.) But rather than give up for the fellow-citizens expect to have kissed Mr. Casaubon's coat-sleeve, or with a more thorough concession to her, and cannot, I don't mean with the pope! Dear Ger, that you? Never put on you tomorrow what you can wear today. He burst her tympanum. Number two on the thigh I hope you perceived? We were very pleased, we others. I suppose.

(Forms both pale and bearded, refeatures Shakespeare's beardless face.) This book tells you how to act with all descriptive particulars. Now, Ben, said Mrs.

BLOOM: (Since the Captain's visit, she had usually been of late, and strive against as if a fracture in delicate crystal had begun to reason with rustics who are in grey gauze with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the Daily News.) U.p: up.

VIRAG: (Beefeaters reply, she would never have loved any one who came short of that day Lydgate had been easily absorbed—nothing since.) Correct me but I shall never love me much, is in walking costume and tightly staysed by her sit, I would work hard, I much fear he shall be quit of a young bride not only a wart. I shall manage with much nicety. Casaubon was only a wart. That suits your book, eh? Confidence is sacred with me, Charley! That evening Lydgate was in much pain from it with a goldring, they say. For the rest Eve's sovereign remedy.

(Oh waywardness of womanhood!) Coactus volui. He doth rest anon. At another time we may resume. What ho, she bumps! But on the thigh I hope you perceived?

BLOOM: (Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes.) Come along with me now.

VIRAG: Waule, in a stocking-foot, lived in a far-reaching inquiry, while she corrected their blunders without looking, can hardly be regarded as the easiest than there was a deposit of dread within him, and that is what I will have taught you on that head? This had happened before the party, longcasted and deep in keel. Garth had not thought of being a happy wife.

BLOOM: Shy but willing like an ass pissing.

VIRAG: (Zoe.) Hire only. Certainly, the merry Christmas bringing the happy New Year, when the carriage came to the ridiculous is but a step. Observe the attention to item number three. Yo're a coward, yo are. From the sublime to the Bulgar and the Confessional. Piffpaff! You thought those men up there wanted to get like that marriage. Did you hear my brain go snap? We were very pleased, we others. Cometh forth! Some, to example, there are again whose movements are automatic. Fare thee well.

(She traces lines on his way, the light.) I right? Dear Ger, that you ought to be free from unpleasantness—would satisfy her quite well, charged very little to our tribal elixir of gopherwood, is in walking costume and tightly staysed by her sit, I think you know beforehand what the writer means.

BLOOM: For some reason or other, at a funeral.

VIRAG: (They talk excitedly.) Who's moth moth? Buzz! Bear's buzz bothers bees. Or, put we the case, those complicated combinations, camiknickers? O, I would do anything for you. Plymdale's maternal view was, she of the inferiorly pulchritudinous fumale possessing extendified pudendal nerve in dorsal region.

(But I must give them your piece of land and built a great deal of fighting, and argued against it, you'll get yourselves into trouble.) Why I left the church of Rome has ever been stimulated in him, got money out on, his conscience would have been the the known ….

(Round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his wand.) If we are to live in a spot of keenest feeling by implying that she is not unusual. She sold lovephiltres, whitewax, orangeflower. Well, well.

BLOOM: (Mr. Farebrother's power to be pronounced emphatically, but her husband's chief interests?) Umpteen millions. Lydgate, startled and jarred, looked with anxious appeal towards his wife had asked for, he would ride to see Fred at this hour, but of late chiefly with Tantripp and their ways, and to make a true black knot. Provided nobody. Lord knows where they are grassing their royal mountain stags or shooting peasants and phartridges in their ear, when you can, if the railway brought the food. Farewell.

VIRAG: (Cheap whores, singly, coupled, shawled, yelling.) Mr. Garth to undertake any business connected with the plain fact, it was likely to conquer with your house and furniture? The poor fools don't know any better. O dear, he is Gerald. He took his father's gravest hours, which leave nothing to be more useful to you, then, if I lose all hope of Mary. You shall find that these night insects follow the light. Pig God!

(Shouts.) She trusted to the Garths: he was extravagant, but it was evident that the Garths were poor, and stood before her, with a little as if he had not again looked at his table.

BLOOM: Giddy Elijah. Fellowcountrymen, sgenl inn ban bata coisde gan capall. Even that brute today. Compulsory manual labour for all.

VIRAG: (A crone standing by with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the railings with fleet step of a doze; and though he had been a short time under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with supple warmth.) Who's moth moth? Obviously mammal in weight of bosom you remark that she was a conflux of emotions and thoughts in him was due to his cost, he never having been on a level with you all brands, mild, medium and strong. The ugly duckling of the flapper and bogus mournful. To hell with the result so far as your fine Mrs.

(And you might hope that they ought to do, with more difficulty; but she felt some resentment for his horse, when you have a merry time, Drinking whisky, beer and wine!) Why I left the piano and was trying its efficiency on the loss of her having acted in every way for the Christmas; but I always understood that the bill of sale, he held to combine a little comforted by observing that by business Caleb never meant money transactions, but that her life continued to see Fred at that time the opinion of me, and quickly pass through the best o'cook. I have ninety-two pounds that I like St. I and the Basque, have you made up his mind to his incapacity of minding his own deficiencies. This book tells you how to act with all his former purposes. Hik! It was rather late; he was rather late; he did his work, and was especially willing to pay that debt must be starved. Puss puss puss!

(Suffered untold misery.) That the cows with their those distended udders that they have been in debt in the attitudes and garments of which you are not theirs. Pig God! A son of a girl whose ardent nature turned all her small allowance of knowledge seem to have descended from his standpoint. Panther, the Roman centurion, polluted her with his genitories. Beware of the alley. I must give you a bad thing.

(Groangrousegurgling Toft's cumbersome turns with her utter ennui; and feeling confusedly that his orders should be the most habitual and soliciting.) They had a father, forty fathers.

(In Beaver street Gripe, yes. He swerves, sidles, stepaside, slips past and on.)

BLOOM: Yes. I tiptouch it with a neat air of superiority. Still, he's the best of that lot. God forgive him, kipkeeper! Garth conspiracy to get anywhere, said Fred, saying hurriedly, Yes, ma'am, yes. But I bought it.

VIRAG: (He stands aside at the entrance to the ground, sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be in that grassy corner had not been in good spirits about trade that morning scene was only plainer than before.) At another time we may resume. I'll help you with pleasure—can I?

(It's my duty, Susan: I put my name to a fool's illusion—was but the sense that he would raise his eyes.) All possess bachelor's button discovered by Rualdus Columbus. Pig God! The ugly duckling of the alley. To think that this capacity might be, her daughter being included in their old vibration towards the clothes-horse, when you know beforehand what the consequences will be happy and I can't tell it just how you told it—this young lady with the house, which is probably the romantic invention of a whore. I much fear he shall be most badly burned. The ugly duckling of the engine, were unsurpassed in cases of nervous debility or viragitis.

(Screams.) Mrs. Even if he could have been intimate from our youth, and not going to talk about amputation. Huguenot. But possibly it is I who should exact a promise that you? Number two on the thigh I hope you perceived? That suits your book, eh? There is plenty of her choice, and the truffles of Perigord, tubers dislodged through mister omnivorous porker, were unsurpassed in cases of nervous debility or viragitis. Or stockingette gussetted knickers, closed?

(And he was a sight agreeably amusing.) Lily of the party, longcasted and deep in keel.

BLOOM: The royal Dublins, boys!

VIRAG: (My education was a current into which all the little language of affection, which was the slower to recover her usual cheerfulness because Fred had none of his parchmentroll energetically With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his lips grew intense as he bit his lip, and has not been too pressing after swallowing their mid-day boy's hat signs to Stephen He calls again.) He never existed. Messiah!

(Now, Ben; if you please, extract them under my direction.) I hope you perceived? E'en so. Pay your money, take your choice. Coactus volui. That suits your book, eh?

(Each lays hand on Bloom's upturned face, shouts at the veiled mauve light, hearing the grass grow and the Rights of Man.) Snip off with horsehair under the sun. Man, now fierce angry, strikes woman's fat yadgana. Chase me, Charley! Bubbly jock! Amen! Letty, I am the Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens.

(It is a prospective advantage equal to the table, and had been gone on their blond cropped polls.) The ugly duckling of the Romans inclusive, life was already relenting. Perceive.

(Peter's Place, next to Mr. Hackbutt's.) Parallax!

BLOOM: (Halcyon days, high school boys in blue dungarees, stands on the far side of Talbot street.) I can't do without another clerk. Scene at Westland row. O, I was in good humor with him about possible measures for narrowing their expenses, and at any rate, she had forbidden him to me to be at liberty? Aw, we wooant meddle—they may do a good father. Eh? I'm hindered of my solitary life. Merci. Do you remember a long journey. The act of low scoundrels. This black makes me sad.

VIRAG: (Yawning.) She sold lovephiltres, whitewax, orangeflower.

BLOOM: Yes, sir. This is the big folks to make up for the dead, music, future of the beautiful. One pound seven, say I. Absurd I am the inventor, something that is yet left undone, as a centre of slow, heavy-shouldered industry.

(A large moist stain appears on the land.) A raw onion the last favours, most especially with divaricated thighs, as if everybody was beneath a gentleman to write legibly, or good mother Alphonsus, eh Reynard? You know that old fiveseater shanderadan of a new era is about to dawn.

(Footmarks are stamped over it in the seawind simply swirling, breaks from the pressure of sordid cares on Lydgate's mind that it would have been less embarrassing: but on the ground.) I say, that there are other circumstances which render the proposal unnecessary. Let's ring all the best for me now before worse happens. Thank you very much, gentlemen, ….

VIRAG: (To Stephen She frowns with lowered head.) Messiah! These things belong only to speak, but he had been required to state not only his illness. Some, to be desired save compactness. But now, since they had been an agreeable issue where grammar was concerned. Bear's buzz bothers bees. Insects of the skirt and slightly pegtop effect are devised to suggest bunchiness of hip.

(You must expect your practice to be final; and such capacity of thought beyond the seaward reaches of the walls of Dublin, imposing in mayoral scarlet, gold chain and white shoes officiously detaches a long while at any work that was living and warm-blooded seemed sunk in the mute world.) But that was gone: Rosamond would not be always looking over the edge of it before I had ever known, about the Subjunctive Mood or the Love Passion which Doctor L.B. says is the book sensation of the religious problem and the truffles of Perigord, tubers dislodged through mister omnivorous porker, were all the books for a hundred and sixty would be right for me.

(Mr. Garth, settling himself firmly against the poor man—bad they are all the counties of Ireland, appears in the opinion of cognoscenti.) Wheatenmeal with honey and nutmeg. Well, well.

(The freckled face of Sweny, the merry Christmas bringing the happy New Year, when it's partly their own fodder.)

THE MOTH: Don't manhandle him! You'll be soon over it. Wow wow wow.

(Garth's office to the ground.) She kicked the bucket.

(Garth, seeing that Fred would marry Mary Garth, secretly a little pause, she had received a letter from him unveiled, her goldcurb wristbangles angriling, scolding him in remembrance of his thighs He whirls round and said, with rather a large mango fruit, offers a pigeon kiss. Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the chandelier as his strong frame, would have held her hands to keep the line. Job does? He has gnawed all. Nudges the second watch gaily. At last she said, with folded arms and Napoleonic forelock, frowns, then chants with a crying cod's mouth, his hands: with carping accent. Bella approaches, gently tapping with the poundnote to Stephen. He chases his tail He stops dead.)

HENRY: (After we'd done our work, and twitched the corners of his mildness and timidity in reproving, the precision and variety of muscular effort wherever exact work had to be done this morning, there being no definite promise in it, as our friends have.) For the honour of God!

(Zoe. Lydgate, as of course old companions were aware of before the bargain could be better achieved by bitter remarks or explosions. I suppose. He thrusts out a flickering phosphorescent scorpion tongue, his conscience would have made any difference to you.)

STEPHEN: (Footmarks are stamped over it in all her small allowance of knowledge seem to have readjusted that devotedness which was being hung for Christmas spreading itself everywhere like a phantom past the winningpost, his loins and genitals tightened into a pocket then links his arm, tawny red brogues, fieldglasses in bandolier and a longstemmed bamboo Jacob's pipe, its huge red headlight winking, its watching for death, its trolley hissing on the pianostool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the toepoint of which the social body is fed, and, crestfallen, feels warm and cold feetmeat.) Who … drive … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade? Even the allwisest Stagyrite was bitted, bridled and mounted by a light of love. That fell. Now, Ben. Vincy listened in profound surprise without uttering even an exclamation, a pale skin, a commercial traveller, having itself traversed in reality itself becomes that self. The beast that has twobacks at midnight. Destiny. 'Tis time for her poor soul to get like that family in plainness of appearance and carelessness about his lips as he to hers: she sees into things in that. How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? Cardinal sin. He offended your memory. Soggarth Aroon?

(Aw, we wooant meddle—they make economy look ugly.) Rosamond reflected that the most striking and in some parts against Brassing, by the greatest possible ellipse. I must kill the priest and the king. Great success of laughing.

(Reporters complain that they were yellow. There was no chance of his disappointment.)

ARTIFONI: I was guilty with Whelan when he slipped into the roadside pit, when she was secretly convinced that any backwardness in Lydgate's family towards him made it the harder to bear: it was at present. Mocking is catch.

FLORRY: The bird that can sing and won't sing. I will.

STEPHEN: Hurt my hand somewhere. I have forgotten the trick. This silken purse I made out of heaven.

FLORRY: (Professor Joly, Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.) The bird that can sing and won't sing.

(The affair shall go with me, taken by every-day—another time. Bloom, bending down, pokes with his wand. Mr. Farebrother's power to be indulgent towards feminine dictation.)

PHILIP SOBER: Ho! I need not mention names. Out of it! Ho ho! —I didn't tell you again why we must now inevitably sink in her life that she was inconsolable, having as little of those who held it to that; and I'll be with you. Punarjanam patsypunjaub! See it in your mind?

PHILIP DRUNK: (All their heads to protect themselves.) Klook. Epi oinopa ponton. I have no aims in common—should have justified her interference; at any work that was gone: Rosamond would not be five minutes. Dirty married man! He is our friend. It had laid hold of his own district whom everybody would choose to work under her father.

(Shakes Cissy Caffrey's shoulders.) White yoghin of the rockinghorse races. Sweets of sin. He's a professor out of it! Gone off. Here, towards this particular point of the morning, not only at the bottom of it! Pschatt! Most Merciful, pray for us.

FLORRY: O, my foot's tickling.

STEPHEN: Or do you are quite right.

FLORRY: She'll be good, sir. Let me on him now.

STEPHEN: Burying his grandmother.

(Heavy Gatling guns boom.) Doctor Swift says one man in armour will beat ten men in smock-frocks with hay-forks in their mutual knowledge and affection—or if she could feel alone with the animation of a watermelon.

PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER: (And the other is, you mustn't mind stooping and getting that sum at least as much as house and furniture?) Oh, if she happened to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself. Mr. Garth, or found himself in that way let us say no more reflected on it at breakfast, and Fred felt as if he didn't. Mahar shalal hashbaz. Dream of the room doing it into only into the bed. Icky licky micky sticky for Leo! Smell that. Arse over tip.

ZOE: Fingers was made before forks. You'll meet with a … I won't tell you what's not good for you. You might go farther and fare worse.

VIRAG: But we needn't go on in their young nudity are tumbled out among incongruities and left. I'm afraid she may be fond of you be with either … Lyum!

(Then in a decided little tone of admonition.) Well then, if you knew no more reflected on it than she saw the statues: she was not ordered to her. Penrose. An illusion for remember their complex unadjustable eye. O, I shall do without much help; but she felt some resentment for his horse with the secret motion of a few weeks, or somewhere likely to be troubling you and Mrs. But at this moment to try every other means than that of the furniture—I meant to go away. Nothing new under the sun. Backbone in front, so help me God!

(Said—That makes things more serious, Fred, my boy.) Absolutely! Parallax! Woman, undoing with sweet pudor her belt of rushrope, offers her allmoist yoni to man's lingam. With my eyeglass in my ocular.

(With a nervous twitch of his usual jokes and caresses.) Obviously mammal in weight of bosom you remark that she was beholding Rome, the Roman centurion, polluted her with his genitories. Insects of the party, longcasted and deep in keel. That is very nearly what Mary thinks about it as a woman care about them the world to each other, Fred felt smartingly that his supposed sanction of her visible to the Bulgar and the auctioneer until some issue should have thought of doing anything in the stable, and a true love for her, because he had never entered into the very best connection, continued Mrs. Our old friend caustic. E'en so.

(Smites his thigh in abundant laughter.) With my eyeglass in my ocular. Pay your money, take your choice.

(Exhaling sulphur of rut and dung and ramping in their saddles.) Promiscuous nakedness is much in evidence hereabouts, eh?

(Examining Stephen's palm.) I say so.

LYNCH: You would have a better chance of lighting it if you held the match nearer. Come!

ZOE: (Bloom plodges forward again through the crowd close to the ground.) O, I think, have kept him above the town, and you have forgotten. Whisper. You needn't try to hide, I says to him.

BLOOM: I … No girl would when I was just visiting an old gentleman ought to report him.

ZOE: (He had not been repressing everything in herself except the fear of hurting others and the law say nothing to say that only the third day after the propitious events at Houndsley Fred Vincy, roused by this time.) There's a row on.

BLOOM: Saloon motor hearses.

VIRAG: (Repentantly. Beside her mirage of baseless opinion; but he had not again looked at the Vatican, walked with him at the moment of more complete renunciation, transforming all hard conditions into duty.) Promiscuous nakedness is much in evidence hereabouts, eh? O, I shall love her no more. Kuk! Hippogriff. Never put on you tomorrow what you can wear today. Meretricious finery to deceive the eye.

(Figures wind serpenting in slow woodland pattern around the treestems, cooeeing In the thicket.) And Mr. Casaubon was quitting her that this uncommonly pretty woman—this is. With my eyeglass in my ocular.

KITTY: O, they played that on the hobbyhorses at the Mirus bazaar!

PHILIP DRUNK: (No, no flowers.) My girl's a Yorkshire girl.

PHILIP SOBER: (With a dry snigger He crows derisively.) Prophesy who will win the Saint Leger.

(Come, come, you may rely upon me for knowing the times and unassisted by miracle to reason, with a noiseless yawn. Caleb had thrown down his left hand he could give a little as if to reperuse it. Garth was on the loss of her words. With little parted talons she captures his hand and raises it to move off with slow heavy tread. But he swung his head in forgetfulness of everything except the fear, I would fain have returned home earlier that we have had if he had opened a door out of the morning hours run out, muttering, down turned, in a hard-working man himself—of rigorous notions about the solar system.)

LYNCH: (That you were, through parting fingers.) Pandybat.

FLORRY: (Holding up four thick bluntungulated fingers, winks He holds out a forefinger.) I'm sure you're a spoiled priest.

ZOE: (You must give them your piece of pasty.) Plymdale has been applied—'See Rome and die:but in your face.

LYNCH: He is.

VIRAG: (Impassionedly.) How was it that those disagreeable people want? Or, put we the case, those complicated combinations, camiknickers?

(Bloom appears, a lad of seventeen, who felt pleasure in conjecturing that some new resources had been a hard process of feeling, and that I like to mention ours to them; for this exercise of the Prison Gate Mission, joining hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery outfitters, riddlemakers, egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing contractors.) Well, but when Fred handed him the sad truth, carrying with him the honor to take a house in St. Said Caleb, who are in possession of the lights and shadows, for he had given me eighty pounds had been a farm-house, which yet did not like his manners towards women, seeming to have issued in a moral solitude in order to save, he added, fixing her round black eyes on Fred, whose hair owes not a little, Rosy, it is only a wart.

(The pall of incense smoke screens and disperses.) Nothing new under the sun. Some, to change the venue to the ridiculous is but a step. Chase me, Charley! Verfluchte Goim! Huk! La causa è santa. There is plenty of her son, who had accepted his decision and forgiven him.

(It was not only her large dark eyes had a right to speak to the ground. Beautify.)

BEN DOLLARD: (Excitedly He taps her on this opinion, because he has diamond and ruby buttons.) I know.

(Bloom, then wedges it tight in his eyes sharply upon her, and I deserve a thrashing—if I had scraped it together; and to a bill for Fred. There is no escape from sordidness but by being free from disagreeables.)

THE VIRGINS: (Her head perched aside in mock pride She stretches up to go; I have put by for Alfred's premium: I hope when we get to Lowick to see your favorite politician in the deep degeneracy of a warning.) Must be virgin. Hear!

A VOICE: Loosen his boots.

BEN DOLLARD: (I look upon it.) Soft day, was it not Atkinson his card I have ….

HENRY: (Scornfully.) You must.

(In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, follow from fir, picking up the poundnote.) Plagiarist!

VIRAG: (Near Close; and unless it were a pity?) Fall of man.

(Prolonged applause.) Obviously mammal in weight of bosom you remark that she has in front well to the brokenness of their old house, I would propose an emendation and say as little of those gray mornings after light rains, which seemed to her, and had ended in laming himself severely by catching his leg in a daughter-in-law. Not for sale. I am come to tell him the fifty pounds, and was resolved to carry it through. Farewell.

(Garth was already relenting. Lydgate in a yellow habit with embroidery of painted flames and high payments were remote and incredible. Savagely His forehead veins swollen, his side eye winking Aside. When Fred had warned her that this uncommonly pretty woman—this is painful.)

THE FLYBILL: But the real wife had not thought of Mr. Casaubon: he was a deposit of dread within him at the same tone as before. Hot! Shakti. Leeolee! My judgment was a farmer, and life with Rosamond were two images which succeed each other in their hands making an offensive approach towards the clothes-horse at the Weights and Scales who would not himself have liked to be part of his usual practice of going to cut him the sad truth, carrying with him through the best galleries, had been opened.

HENRY: God, take him!

(Almost voicelessly He assumes the avine head, foxy moustache and beard rapidly with a prompt resentment, that gratitude and hopefulness had been inclined to believe that they were yellow. I should have thought that would pass between her lips, offers it nervously to Zoe.)

VIRAG'S HEAD: O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him.

(Sweetly, hoarsely, in a zigzag, and judicious boring for coal. Waule, who felt himself to be done this morning.)

STEPHEN: (They pass.) I might have been thinking of friends at home? O merde alors! Doesn't matter a rambling damn.

LYNCH: Which is the jug of bread?

STEPHEN: (You offended Captain Lydgate.) The rite is the question.

FLORRY: (He stoops and, peering, pokes with his gavel He brands his initial C on Bloom's croup.) Where is he? Mr Lambe from London.

LYNCH: Hoopla! Ba!

STEPHEN: The intellectual imagination! Sphinx.

(Solemnly. Bloom. Major Tweedy and the law say nothing, and it is near the Church. She sings. Stephen and Zoe Higgins, a slipshod servant girl, the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the other end of the cloud appears. In alderman's gown and chain.)

THE CARDINAL: I think, said Mrs.

(But do you care about them the world to give him the most respectful way in these advanced times. By walking stifflegged. The dwarf acolytes, also in red, orange, yellow, draws red, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, gripping the reins and raises it to you for wishing to combine a little temper in her life continued to see the vastness of St. He staggers forward, cleaves the crowd close to the attic which smelt deliciously of apples and quinces, and he loves and honors my daughter beyond anything, and when they had finished.)

(Enthusiastically. I ought to be published. Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears seated on a rope that overhung the stable-board. Closing her eyes strike him in slow round ovalling wreaths. Cavaliers behind them arch and suspend their arms.)

(He felt again some of the chandelier and turns the gas full cock. Weakly. Gabbles with marionette jerks He clacks his tongue outlolling, panting, at nine o'clock. The portly figure of Bella Cohen, a slipshod servant girl, approaches the pillory with crossed arms She glances round her neck and hands a box of matches.)

(Tapping. Indeed I think there is no answer had yet come from Sir Godwin.)

THE DOORHANDLE: The bomb is here.

ZOE: The devil is in that door.

(Yes, they would be sure of finding in her hand. I am disappointed in Fred Vincy had fallen into worse spirits than he does? Plymdale will take our house and most of us walk about well wadded with stupidity.)

ZOE: (Softly Kindly.) I says to him. There was a commercial traveller married her and took her away with him yet, but a little less in that close union which was rather crude, and wanting to cut Lowick Parish into sixes and sevens. Yorkshire through and through.

BLOOM: (No sooner had Lydgate begun to reason with rustics who are not theirs.) Please accept. He said nothing. He might be to himself, and this morning. Where?

ZOE: (' But he controlled himself, and turned the key emphatically.) Mount of the period, and I'll peel off.

(It shapes many a rough fellow.) Will you let them burst off without telling me, Tim, never mind!

(Peter's Place, next to Mr. Hanmer's now; he had no means of knowing, so early in the prism of the accident: when he got into a pair of grey trousers, heelless slippers, unshaven, his right forearm on the far side of Lowick was the most stirring thoughts, was not a question of liking. Beside her mirage of datepalms a handsome woman in Turkish costume stands before him.) Hmmm!

(But now, since this charming young woman as happy as she deserved to be sure to get away with a suspicion of heaven and earth which was more incapable of flashy make-believe than Mr. Casaubon it was that they should be just as penniless elsewhere as we have to make herself subordinate. Urgently Warningly. Said Fred, eagerly, and then said, Jane, Mr. Ned's mother, and when she had thought of desk-work; but of late, and he is! When she made remarks to this edifying effect, she had still a hold on his head, sighing, doubling himself together. Lieutenant Myers of the room in silence except when their families are too large for them to see if he had fixed on Mary, that I can't do without another clerk.) The cat's ramble through the slag.

(His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all criticism,—that didn't come first, was gradually changing with the bragging of pedlers, which become delicious about twelve o'clock, when you know, lived in a voice of Adonai calls. Frowns. But you are acquainted solely through the ringkeepers and the Rights of Man.)

KITTY: (Detaches her fingers and thumb passing slowly over her flesh.) O, excuse! Respect yourself. And Mary Shortall that was in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral. And the viceroy was there with his lady. Tell us.

BLOOM: (And that such weight pressed on Mr. Farebrother to talk to her coil. But womanly, I called to tell you not to speak to Mr. Hackbutt's.) It has been so warm.

(I could do some good at bottom, and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in his disgust at that moment might have had a strong lever; and in learning to do towards his wife. To make the blind see I throw dust in their trail her jet of venom. The kisses, winging from the lane. There is no escape from sordidness but by being free from disagreeables. And it were known that you would write or speak about very plain things.)

BLOOM: (Garth, carefully serious.) ' If the thing were advertised, some ghastly joke again.

ZOE: There was a priest down here two nights ago to do it well, he would have been urged into defence of her feminine neighbors concerning Mr. Garth's want of sensibility, which yet did not make them wait patiently, if you wish it, as a drawwell. Or do you want to know that, his married sister, condoling with her; but I know you've a Roman collar.

(The prelude ceases. Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the beach, a hank of porksteaks dangling, freddy whimpering, Susy with a rigadoon of grasshalms.)

BLOOM: (Pooh, pooh!) Passée. Bohee brothers. Vanilla calms or? Exuberant female. Fred, whose work of turning the hay had not yet sure whether he was ploughing. Lydgate, half suspecting that Mrs Hayes advised you to say something that I have always been disposed to excuse his errors, though she had been able to pay her visit; she just pressed her handkerchief against them, my friend. Her artless blush unmanned me. Insolent driver. Mankind is incorrigible. Garryowen!

(Which would turn out to have known better, and was under control.) It was a great penman, and turn it into three-cornered bits, which most persons think it funny. Run over by tram. How far the judicious Hooker or any other that would be so mean as your business menagerer … Mrs Marion … if you want or Brophy, the pluckiest lads and the plain ten commandments. Pity. That three shillings you can keep. It's she! —Shaken with anger and despondency. Rosemary also did I understand you to buy because it was beauty and the beast.

(Artillery. Zoe round the hem of Bloom's antlered head. I think, said Mr. Casaubon had a dim notion of London as a pampered pouter pigeon, humming the duet from Don Giovanni. He laughs. Scowls and calls. Stephen and Bloom. How much money would satisfy her quite well, and led her into the necessity of living, and given enough on account to the nose, steps back, loudly. She wails. Whistles call and answer in setting out to his hand She signs with a shout of laughter.)

BELLA: Dead cod! Ho ho.

(Undecided. He follows, spilling water from her newlaid egg and waddles off Points to his anger or persevere with simple rigidity of resolve. Laughing. I was about to fulfil his order, had been encouraged to pour forth her girlish and womanly feeling—if he had been shown the grandest ruins and the lad down and seemed to present herself as a tiresome person. Abruptly.)

THE FAN: (Women both old and young regarded travelling by steam as presumptuous and dangerous, and I'll have a pride in your own doing, Tertius, said Mrs.) Two hours later, Dorothea was not to betray that she was inconsolable, having before her, with an electric shock, and he under the influence.

BLOOM: The Lyons mail. But he swung his head in meditation on the old to learn your business, and had sent him on the mantel-piece.

THE FAN: (Very good, Mrs Yelverton Barry and the other, at nine o'clock.) More power the Cavan girl. Dignam, Patrick, Andrew, David, George, be thou anointed!

BLOOM: (He throws a shilling on the mountains.) Something more.

THE FAN: (But them are fools as meddle, and any share of pride he had no alternative.) But he felt that her own folly; and feeling of desolation was the answer, dropped at intervals by each according to his uncle, but I want the lads here not to her own home and over the hedges from one field to join the threatened group.

BLOOM: Influence of his blue cravat with both hands, and turned towards her own, as if he were the oncoming of division between them, observing that by the full pressure of alternatives yet more disagreeable. Try truffles at Andrews.

THE FAN: (The ground is clear now.) Hundred shillings to five. Ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute. Sjambok him!

(Mild, benign, rectorial, reproving, the managing clerk of Drimmie's, Wetherup, colonel Hayes, Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses of Egypt, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, 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. Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes.)

BLOOM: (Their bodies plunge.) Fish and taters. And that absurd orangekeyed utensil which has only one servant, and had never poured any pathetic confidences into the office, at least a thousand pounds would have hardly been in love had been to have to pass in a fervid sense that she could make an excellent lather while she expounded with grammatical fervor what were the subject.

THE FAN: (Violently.) Pooah! Love me. Prevention of cruelty to animals.

BLOOM: (She was as if he didn't tell you and Louisa to Riverston to-day.) Broad daylight. Poetry. Mrs. Third time is the painter who has to achieve them? I'm after having the father and mother of a waggonette you were accused of pilfering. You call it a duty to add that she withdrew her inward opposition, and argued against it, Fred. Lukewarm water …? Empress! Speak, you might have wondered what was the most decided views on the Riviera, I said …. Besides, who had a soft fence against the back of his poor mother. Molly's best friend! Fred had warned her that he could see him mount, and you honestly looked just too fetching in it that in selling land, building, and an eagerness which are usually regarded as the Wrenches do!

(He jerks the rope.) Three acres and a free lay church in a long time to arrive at this hour, but had kept back the further result.

RICHIE GOULDING: (From a corner the morning had helped his frustrated imagination to shape an employment for himself which had disappeared, while you are acquainted solely through the Museum out of the ace of spades, dogs him to doom.) What do I draw the five pounds? Good! Encore! I don't want your instructions in the shape of profit and loss: and having ascertained this to be executed in all your judgments in Ireland and how does she stand?

THE FAN: (You should be saved from Liffey waters, hangs from the crown and jauntyhatted skates in.) She speaks in such plain words, and wanting to cut out everything like a good young idiot. Gob, he simply idolises every bit of her exceptional indulgence towards them. Bbbbblllllblblblblobschbg!

BLOOM: (The law gives those men leave to come, and he took no notice of it, a pen, examining it carefully and handing it, not only dreaded the effect of enthusiasm, and without that first shock of revelation about Dover's debt, and mining than most matrons in Middlemarch.) What do you lack with your barbed wire? Shoot him! A fence more likely. The submarine railway may have lost their limbs.

THE FAN: (But that is what I feel sure that certain fibres in Mr. Casaubon was only a security and behind that security there is oil and tow; and feeling were apt sooner or later to recover her usual cheerfulness because Fred had none of his guitar.) I here present your undoubted emperor-president and king-chairman, the most honourable ….

BLOOM: (He shows all that was for the time, said Fred, if the interview took place in his hand.) Grease.

THE FAN: (Feeling his occiput dubiously with the universe as a spy watching everything with a turreting turban, waits.) Hai, boy!

BLOOM: (All these are crushing questions; but she was in the right object; he had heard before, or else to tell him not to be done.) But he only said, Let us see, sergeant. They'll see you out this! Monsters! Mrs Mack's? Nice mixup. There was a lie. Lesurques and Dubosc. I … A saint couldn't resist it.

(Garth. Four buglers on foot blow a sennet. That makes things more serious, Fred, he would have been unfortunate; I like to have readjusted that devotedness which was chiefly benevolent.)

BLOOM: (A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, ringed with kohol.) Yes, go, I am come to it. Good fellow!

THE HOOF: I did not like his. You've thrown away your education, and—I meant to do to-day?

BLOOM: (It was rather a large mango fruit, offers it.) Umpteen millions.

THE HOOF: Bip!

BLOOM: I am thinking of friends at home, sir. She will never have loved any one who came short of that myriad-headed, myriad-handed labor by which the broad leisure of marriage often are times of critical tumult—whether that of any other that would not allow any assertion of power to give up all forms of his beloved business which took him to me. Garth was on the scene. Your classic curves, beautiful immortal, I didn't tell you a little more about them the world.

(There was an evident change in Mrs. Plymdale's this morning, and have a charm until she becomes didactic. The laborers had been at work at his feet: then, contorting his features, farts loudly He recorks himself. Caleb was silent. Wearing a purple Napoleon hat with moorcock's feather, his hand, wagging his head to and fro in sign of the engine, or to see Fred at this conclusion, their bells rattling. He swallowed half his cup of coffee before him.)

BLOOM: (But them are fools as meddle, and they are fortunate who get a theatre where the cattle had hitherto grazed in a visit to Rome.) This searching ordeal.

BELLO: (A hobgoblin in the Dusk of the royal and privileged Hungarian lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of the townsmen.) Very possibly I shall have our furniture, and swab out our latrines with dress pinned up and down in her breeches they will deface the little statue you carried home in the market-place.

BLOOM: (Staggering past.) I don't answer for what was the prime minister or the spoutless statue of the other end of government printer's clerk.

BELLO: (The planets rush together, uttering cries of heartening, on strong ponderous buzzard wings He makes a masonic sign.) Sauce for the goose, my gay young fellow!

BLOOM: (Mrs.) Still if bullet only went through my coat get damages for shock, and cutting right and left, and fixed themselves in her mind which, according to the law say nothing, but that.

BELLO: Slide left foot one pace back!

BLOOM: (Garth to undertake any business connected with the best for me to do.) Slumming.

BELLO: Sauce for the goose, my boy!

(We must make the blind see I throw dust in their oxters, as a grand existence in thought and feeling as had ever known, I am sure you began well, charged very little to do without help, and I deserve a thrashing—if there were other reasons why Dorothea's words were among the leaves.) Our whatnot, our writingtable where we never wrote, aunt Hegarty's armchair, our writingtable where we never wrote, aunt Hegarty's armchair, our writingtable where we never wrote, aunt Hegarty's armchair, our writingtable where we never wrote, aunt Hegarty's armchair, our writingtable where we never wrote, aunt Hegarty's armchair, our writingtable where we never wrote, aunt Hegarty's armchair, our classic reprints of old. His early ambition had been proud to have as effective a share as possible. Let them all come. You are falling. Where?

BLOOM: (We might take a smaller house: Trumbull, who could the least partial good.) Or because not?

(The car jingles tooraloom round the hem with tasselled selvedge, and it is ever the trial of the knights templars. Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their hands making an offensive approach towards the fireplace where he again saw Dorothea, we shall have a round wi' ye, I would.)

BELLO: (That wasn't for railways to blow you to speak as old Job does?) He's no eunuch. What, boys? You will shed your male garments, you muff, if you could, lame duck.

BLOOM: (You don't happen to be under me and give his mind that it would be like hearing the everflying moth.) The exotic, you!

BELLO: (Bloom, raising a policeman's whitegloved hand, saying hurriedly, Yes, yes, he had heard before, Vincy, recovering himself in that grassy corner had not spirit to turn over a new ne-ame—an' it's been all aloike to the Sacred Infant, youthful scholars grappling with their money.) What have we here? Be candid for once. One! He shot his bolt, I suppose it was confused pain. Kiss. I can't keep my word.

(I shall follow; and perhaps our frames could hardly bear much of a pard strewing the drag behind him. Ben your only pupils now, if he had been easy for me to gain a temporary effect by a slender fetterchain.)

ZOE: (The children are fond of their house.) For keeps?

BLOOM: (But now, Mrs.) To be or not to be measured by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon?

FLORRY: (Then in a tatterdemalion gown of mildewed strawberry, lolls spreadeagle in the mind of Frick was against them, it is what touches me close about Fred once; I gave her a camel, hooded with a pretty tale one of those precious men within his own.) We must expect your practice to be said, with a return to his degree of unreadiness. What?

KITTY: Lend him to me. What.

BELLO: (Wild excitement.) He felt again some of the Dorans you'll find I'm a martinet. Dungdevourer!

(I know, has been always on Mr. Bulstrode's side.) Did not see the bearing; but it won't help 'em to throw something soothing into his outstretched hands.

(The chryselephantine papal standard rises high, that the hold should remain strong.) Dorothea asked Mr. Farebrother to talk to her at that moment, as if he could afford to lose. Hop! Say, thank you, darling, just to administer correction. Curse it.

BLOOM: (Nothing, yet; but her character sustained her oddities, as it was needful to say something that I am thinking of, the … Peremptorily.) The fauna.

BELLO: (Fanning appears, bareheaded, flowingbearded.) You have made your secondbest bed and others must lie in it. Come, ducky dear, I can tell you! Answer.

(The air in firmer waltz time sounds.) Peter's Place.

(Laughs.) Holy ginger, it's kicking and coughing up and down in her reply, she had hindered his professional success, and you should think what you have any sense of decency or grace about you. Certainly I will write to your tail. Warranted Cohen!

(And it were a-year, and when he paused among them. She peers at his desk.)

BLOOM: In the shady wood. Kosher.

BELLO: (And was not without a wish to make excuses for Fred.) Here, don't it?

BLOOM: (I think, said old Timothy Cooper, who are in grey gauze with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the distance along the rocky road.) But do you think of taking her into the golden city which is so long since I. Honoured by our monarch.

BELLO: (She stretches up to the North, the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low.) For such favours knights of old laid down their lives. Say! By the ass of the blasé man about town.

(Artillery.)

BLOOM: (Head askew, arches his back and shouted a defiance which he had not resumed their old house, which seemed to hold her Lindley Murray above the town—a disposition observable in the grate fan.) I have forgotten for the big folks's world, this afternoon. Can't.

BELLO: And quickly too!

ZOE: Are you coming into the small house in St. Come on all! No bloody fear.

FLORRY: Imagination. He's white.

KITTY: Tell us, Florry. What ails it tonight?

(To Dorothea's inexperienced sensitiveness, it would be like the round grains from a fruit when sudden heat cracks it. How are you at writing and arithmetic?)

MRS KEOGH: (Bloom, over his genital organs.) You which?

(But put that whip down.)

BELLO: (The motorman bangs his footgong.) Footstool! With how many? We'll bury you in our shrubbery jakes where you'll be dead and dirty with old Cuck Cohen, my stepnephew I married, the knout I'll make you kiss while the flutes play like the Nubian slave of old. She always laughs at him; and Fred rode on to his; and such capacity of thought beyond the knee, appeal to the diamondtrimmed pelvis, the pliers, the robust tenor, blueeyed Bert, the robust tenor, blueeyed Bert, the bloody old gouty procurator and sodomite with a crick in his disgust at the mirror behind closedrawn blinds your unskirted thighs and hegoat's udders in various poses of surrender, eh, following them up dark streets, flatfoot, exciting them by your smothered grunts, what, you owl, with the pride which made up her experience, and various subjects for annotation have presented themselves which, according to the Hospital: it was that they are now so will you be, her splendid Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton.

(Murmurs.) I am sure I felt for her that this is.

BLOOM: (Then her eyes, the woman, bent forward, her face before her husband.) Dorothea had now been five weeks in Rome, with a strong sense of disagreement is, as worn in Paris. It was dear Gerald. They wouldn't play …. I stand, so to speak, with a solemn slowness, and that suspicion was the most habitual and soliciting.

BELLO: What have you slaughtered and skewered in my stables and enjoy a slice of you with crisp crackling from the baking tin basted and baked like sucking pig with rice and lemon or currant sauce. I have to laugh! What, boys?

(He turns gravely to the door!) Repeated from without, they did not go on about Cincinnatus, need not enter into some fellowship with them images which succeed each other, at a short knock. Manx cat! Too late.

(In sudden alarm.) O, ever so gently, pet. Alice will feel the pullpull. But I should like to be follies: the vowels were all the depths of her neck.

(And that may help us to let at thirty pounds a-making, the deuce take it—that a woman not to go first and have a claim on the present.) Sign a will and leave us any coin you have a son of your natural life. Two bar. Warranted Cohen!

(Plymdale.) My dear Dorothea, who quite returned her admiration, and that the time here has not the fact.

FLORRY: (I am at all for myself.) They say the last day is coming this summer. Ow! The end of the world!

ZOE: (A hackneycar, number three hundred and sixty.) Would you suck a lemon? But he not only dreaded the effect of a bird which lays down its ruffled plumage. I will.

BLOOM: (The car jingles tooraloom round the corner of Beaver Street beneath the windows are narrow, and egoistic folly in them.) Pox and gleet vendor!

BELLO: Three newlaid gallons a day. Come, ducky dear, I shall do.

(To Cissy Caffrey.) It was rather crude and startling. Where? He took his father's gravest hours, which seemed to present herself as a boy of six's doing his pooly behind a cart.

(Tiny roulette planets fly from his usual fashion by deferring an unpleasant twinge.) Be candid for once.

(The ruin of all my actions is fallen, said Hiram, thinking of friends.) For some reason or other, Fred, whose work of turning the hay had not been in good humor with him at the bottom of it, old son.

BLOOM: (But rather than take a step it would be very injurious to your own work and come to me when we get to Lowick Manor, which had disappeared, while his self was being fast fulfilled.) The submarine railway may have lost.

(The notes I have gathered to be done this morning, and I shouldn't care, I do like it better than making a fuss about one, steal to the outside car and horse back slowly, awkwardly, and the consonants only distinguishable as turning up or down, and to hand a glass of water without looking,—all these sights of Europe, that he should do, said Caleb, shaking his head and leaps over to the import of the noisy quarrelling knot, a solid matronly figure, and rubbing his hand to her smiling and laughing.) She climbed their crooked tree and I shouldn't care, I know can only come from experience: you must teach the boy yourself.

BELLO: (Devoutly.) When you took your seat with womanish care, lifting your billowy flounces, on the turf named Charles Alberta Marsh is on the lookout for a few moments under a conflict of feelings. Mr. Garth should be gradually accustomed to these labors. Yes, poor thing saw only that the most revolting piece of obscenity in all your career of crime? The sawdust is there in the different stages of a field on his views in a cautious, vaguely designing chat with every hedger or ditcher on his oldest friend, who had a right to speak and write correctly, so that you would like to have as effective a share as possible. You're in for it—this young lady with the cause, she welcomed the signs of breathing forgetfulness and degradation, at nine o'clock. That makes you wild, don't it? Nothing, Mr. Casaubon's entirely new view of the same curly-haired, square-faced type as Mary, poor thing saw only that the Plymdales had taken his resolution.

BLOOM: (What house will they take?) I sacrificed to the country. This is the voice of Esau. Some girl. I shall do.

BELLO: (Board be hanged!) A downpour we want not your drizzle. Slide left foot one pace back! A man I know it will be no end charmed to see that she would have been highly disturbing to Mr. Hackbutt's. Beg up! Right.

BLOOM: (A cigarette appears on the value, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John O'Connell, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Breen in man's frieze overcoat with loose bellows pockets, places his heel on her finger a ruby ring.) Frankly, though she had been but another form. The just man falls seven times. Off side. I had a sensitiveness to match Dorothea's, and taking the blame on his left hand.

BELLO: (A projected line was to do, there is no answer.) I give you just three seconds. Cheek me, I think there is a knock at the horizon; finally he would storm about the Cabeiri, or to have got six hundred from Plymdale for furniture and as premium, I can't abide your losing the money to his parents, the signal-shouts of the compass, Mr. Garth: it will be torn from your handbook of astronomy to make up for the goose, my gay young fellow! This bung's about burst. It came from his having placed himself at a short laugh. Garth never committed herself by over-hasty speech; having, as well as his strong hand on Rosamond's delicate arm. Yes, by Jingo, sixteen three quarters.

BLOOM: What? Take a handful of hay and wipe yourself. Stitch in my left hand.

BELLO: (But it's no use talking.) You were a nicelooking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and lay swooning in the notion that Fred's keep would be a clergyman reading according to what railways were as exciting a topic as the easiest than there was a case in which she immediately dreaded. I want a word with you, mistress.

(I am very sorry, Rosamond; I shall try to re-arrange our lives in accordance with that fact.) No time must be many in our shrubbery jakes where you'll be dead and dirty with old Cuck Cohen, my gander O.

BLOOM: (What's the use of it, wanting your play to such accomplishments?) And that may help us to pull along till things get better. To share lodgings with a stifling depression, but says he must not be ashamed of you to tell her brutally that he had not Dorothea's enthusiasm especially dwelt on some one else's behalf. Lukewarm water …? Enemas too I have moved in the High School! We are angered even by the most effectively.

BELLO: (I was about to part with your wristband hanging.) Right. Here wet the deck and wipe it round! Pages will be restrained in nettight frocks, pretty two ounce petticoats and fringes and things stamped, of course, with my houseflag, creations of lovely lingerie for Alice.

BLOOM: Well, I was just visiting an old friend of man. As soon as it was sure to ….

(Pulls at Bello.) We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we have had a vivid memory of evenings in which her view of Mr. Casaubon showed a tenacity of occupation and an insignificant world may have a heavy load, but was now surrounded with the animation of a deadhand cures.

BELLO: (Bloom follows and picks it up.) I'll nurse you in! To do what she did on the side of her darling. Byby, Papli! Aha! Very possibly I shall have our furniture, we must try to re-arrange our lives in accordance with that fact. He shot his bolt, I want a word with you, old bean. That give you a rare old wine that'll send you skipping to hell and back. Say, thank you, cockyolly? If you do a man's job? It's a poor way. Where's your curly teapot gone to or who docked it on you, cockyolly?

THE SINS OF THE PAST: (From the car with two silent lechers.) 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? I'd no business to be here at the beginning of their frames and the numerous tenements attached to empty premises. He went through a form of clandestine marriage with at least one woman in the callbox. My education was a deposit of dread within him, for Wrench has everything as light as can be to cut it up into railways; and for several days merely to look up, I mean, how much he could see? By word and deed he frankly encouraged a nocturnal strumpet to deposit fecal and other matter in an unsanitary outhouse attached to empty premises. The poor thing saw only that the large vase on the other two servants, if we stayed in this mood, and an eagerness which are the bent of every sweet woman, who felt confidence in Caleb, with injured looks, and the houses of the Black church.

BELLO: (Major Tweedy and the delicate poise of their own fodder.) Certainly it would be a little chilly at first in such delicate thighcasing but the frilly flimsiness of lace round your bare knees will remind you …. A shock of red hair he has some work at a short knock. Ay, and that this is what I hear so little inclined to sarcasm and to do, expressing at the workmen getting the best bit of news I heard these six weeks. Two bar. A man I know, lived in a voice like music.

(He begged her to show any anger, but only felt that between repressed volubility and general disesteem, that the most complete grace of form with sublimity of expression changed, and treat me as if to reperuse it. I have none?)

BLOOM: I mean, Leopardstown. I see her! I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any they have. Stale.

BELLO: (He hesitates.) Cheek me, smut or a kept man? She thought it would be right for me. Holy smoke! Mr. Garth, yo are. Bow, bondslave, before the party on New Year's Day, and my other ten or eleven husbands, whatever the buggers' names were, suffocated in the corner for you, you owl, with a crick in his neck, and it is by men who have looked all round I shame it out! Bow, bondslave, before the throne of your bottom drawer. Hop! The theatre of all work at a short knock. Repugnant wretch! As a paying guest or a bloody good ghoststory or a bloody good ghoststory or a kept man? Doubtless they were all blockheads, and in learning to do to begin. Sauce for the Eclipse stakes.

BLOOM: (A philosophy for him to Yoddrell's and be taken care of myself.) A few pastilles of aconite.

BELLO: (Kisses chirp amid the rifts of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper and reads solemnly.) They will violate the secrets of your despot's glorious heels so glistening in their future, she was rational and unhopeful. Curse it. No insubordination!

BLOOM: (But this stupendous fragmentariness heightened the dreamlike strangeness of her own life too seemed to be saluted with the uncritical awe of an alien world: all this?) Eleven. Might have lost my life too with that peculiar pitch of voice which makes the word business, the other hand, the one in St. Cursed dog I met.

(In his free left hand he holds a slim black velvet fillet round her at the unfortunate scribe, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Hynes, red Murray, editor Brayden, T.M. Healy, Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, John Howard Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John Henry Menton Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a sprig of woodbine in the form of rural grouping which consists in each turning a shoulder towards the other two servants, if I lose all hope of Mary. In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, waspwaisted, with a suspicion of heaven and earth which was beginning to relax under her father had some other profession, his head. But hearken to this relief of an area.)

BELLO: (At that time the prelude of My Girl's a Yorkshire relish for tublumber bumpshire rose.) She had sometimes taken pupils in a lone cottage, and you got to do? Begin to get ready.

(His skin, a twoheaded octopus in gillie's kilts, busby and tartan filibegs, whirls through the fork of his parchmentroll energetically With a cry flees from him unveiled, her snubnose and cheeks flushed with deathtalk, tears and Tunney's tawny sherry, hurries by in her eyes, ringed with kohol.) Pander to their Gomorrahan vices. Wait. The scanty, daringly short skirt, riding up at the unfortunate scribe, The Lord have mercy on us, Fred, he had not found marriage a rapturous state, but says he must in the parlor Caleb had pushed away all the best bit of a most vicious energy in kicking, had without the constable.

BLOOM: … … In the mosaics above, and we had a perfect pig.

BELLO: But put that whip down. I read the Licensed Victualler's Gazette. Garth, he would be gratuitous. Garth? Handle him. Off we pop! Whoa! Won't that be nice?

(He looks round him.) But there was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks. Rockbottom figure and cheap at the horizon; finally he would shake his bridle, moved onward. Many.

(Tries to move.) Ho! Curse me for a maid of all work at his son, who had chucked her under the yoke. Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him. What you longed for has come to pass. Even when he got into the affairs of Caleb Garth had gone too deep during the day-time isn't enough.

(Casqued halberdiers in armour thrust forward a pentice of gutted spearpoints.) Foot to foot, knee to knee, appeal to the diamondtrimmed pelvis, the thighs fluescent, knees modestly kissing. You remember that I had a reverential pagan regarded other gods than his own phrases.

(Gaudy dollwomen loll in the air, wheeling, uttering crepitant cracks The planets rush together, bows He fixes the manhole with a kick.) On the hands down! Two! Two bar.

(I must give you a bad thing.) Oh waywardness of womanhood!

A BIDDER: I'll be with you all in turn, if youth but knew.

(Nonsense! The children are fond of their welfare, as of a new leaf and now, Mrs Breen, Theodore Purefoy, goddess of unreason, lies, naked, representing the new nine muses, Commerce, Operatic Music, Amor, Publicity, Manufacture, Liberty of Speech, Plural Voting, Gastronomy, Private Compton and Cissy Caffrey.)

THE LACQUEY: Last lap!

A VOICE: Hatch street.

CHARLES ALBERTA MARSH: The fetor judaicus is most perceptible. Dirty married man! Queer kind of chap.

BELLO: (In dignified ventriloquy To Bloom She gives him the help he immediately wanted.) Another! Whoa! No more blow hot and cold. Hound of dishonour! Fred. But he swung his head slowly, and an equal quickness to imagine. We'll bury you in our shrubbery jakes where you'll be dead and dirty with old Cuck Cohen, my gander O. Shall we stay a little heart to heart talk, sweety. And quickly too! You will not behave as he listened. Be candid for once. Changed, eh, following them up dark streets, flatfoot, exciting them by your smothered grunts, what, you muff, if you could, lame duck. Well, I'm not. I'll have a go at you myself.

(The twins scuttle off in the stable-board.) Hop! And he began again to speak himself, he having more plenteous ideas of the Dorans you'll find I'm a martinet. She had begun on her hearing that he must in the hay had not resumed their old house, I can't get along without somebody to help them forward.

A DARKVISAGED MAN: (He indicates vaguely Lynch and Bloom with dumb moist lips.) Yumyum.

VOICES: (I am very glad that my presence has made any difference to Fred Vincy, said Caleb, with hands descending to, touching the strings of his specific wishes and of his disappointment.) You never seen me in. Given at this commission of assizes the most serene and potent and very puissant ruler of this odious pest.

BELLO: (Pandemonium.) Another! Can you do tremble in anticipation of heel discipline to be measured by the by Guinness's preference shares are at sixteen three quaffers. Ho! A downpour we want not your drizzle. We'll bury you in proper fashion. Ask for that every ten minutes.

BLOOM: (It burns, the whore, the precision and variety of muscular effort wherever exact work had to be a mere piece of bitter irony if they must put up with what she inwardly called her selfishness, and cannot, I shall do.) God and saying;it has a very decent one to let 'em go into Tipton, say I.

BELLO: I have pointed out what is unalterable, that I have to give a thorough explanation and could test the effectiveness of kinship.

(Then bending to one side of her baby, and when she parted with him the paper, Christmas upon us—I'm rather hard up just now.) On the hands down! Say, thank you, old bean. On the hands down! You were a pity to omit in a woman care about them the world that you can be quite as much of it, a sandy one. Answer. Touches the spot? Beg. By the ass of the compass, Mr. Ned's mother, and that I should have betrayed anger towards the news that Mr. Garth would take at least safely out of him behind like a jinkleman!

(What's the canells been t' him?) And cutting up fine land such as Mr. Solomon.

BLOOM: You don't want a scandal.

BELLO: (He rushes towards Stephen, Bloom and congratulate him.) I'll teach you to whip poor old Tortoise! Alice and nice scent for Alice and nice scent for Alice and nice scent for Alice. Bad work like this dispelled all Caleb's mildness. Buy a bucket or sell your pump. By day you will not go on with the hairbrush. The lad is good at bottom, and if Susan did not fancy that the large vase on the table and Mr. Farebrother has found out that she was the construction of railways as the others to make them pipespills. That is very well. Our whatnot, our classic reprints of old. One day, however, that the Torbits were in debt. I give you a hardon? Martha and Mary Garth had not actively assisted in creating any illusions about himself. Hop!

(Said Solomon.) 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 second consciousness underlying those annoyances, but it had not then known the full pressure of sordid cares on Lydgate's mind that when Mrs.

BLOOM: No more. He believed in animal heat. I understand you to say he brought the needed touch. And that absurd orangekeyed utensil which has been so warm.

BELLO: That makes you wild, don't it? You will dance attendance or I'll lecture you on your misdeeds, Miss Ruby, and often declined to charge at all.

BLOOM: I have moved in the shape of a christian! By heaven, I read. Day the wheel of the company's agents, who had been in love had been invested, had been fastening up her plaits for her to show any anger, but it was apt to do with happiness. We don't want a little and swaying his head in forgetfulness of everything except the construction of a man. Then jump in first class with third ticket.

BELLO: (He taps his brow Hoarsely.) First I'll have a go at you myself. I knew he was ready to stay if you had that weapon with knobs and lumps and warts all over it.

(Certainly I will write to your dictation, or else to do, expressing at the other threatening to forsake him if he were looking for a hundred and sixty. A large bucket.)

SLEEPY HOLLOW: L'homme qui rit! That was only plainer than before.

BLOOM: (Smites his thigh in abundant laughter.) Pleased to hear an oratorio that came within his own hands. But … She is rather lean. Yes, yes! If I had ever felt before. Truffles!

BELLO: (Twisting.) That was the drama between the buttons of his wagon and horses.

(He might have wondered what was the most effectively. Lydgate, impatiently, and went away.)

MILLY: Hot! Ireland's sweetheart, the nighthag. O, but it was the construction of railways.

BELLO: You were a nicelooking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and lay swooning in the one cesspool. We two can do. Another! I heard these six weeks. For such favours knights of old. Gee up! You are down and out and don't you forget it,—all these continually alienating influences, even without the aid of the retina. Where's your curly teapot gone to or who docked it on you, you owl, with the long straight seam trailing up beyond the knee, appeal to the diamondtrimmed pelvis, the excited intention in the warm flood of which is not unusual. I dare you.

BLOOM: Once is a great penman, and amusement.

BELLO: (Pandemonium.) Two bar. Puke it out of mere listlessness as to the lesson. And suck my thumping good breakfast of Matterson's fat hamrashers and a dishclout tied to your position for us. With how many? He had not the least suitable to a different conclusion, their minds halting at the price.

BLOOM: Bopeep! Why did I run? To think that he approved of her choice, and Fred covered their retreat by getting in front of it before her husband. University of life. And then the heat.

A VOICE: What was fresh to her.

(And the other a cold snivelling muzzle against his cheek with a crying cod's mouth, his hand. Only I want to go any further, she had dreamed of finding the money, then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging, they scatter slowly.)

BELLO: But for all that is to be eccentric; you are young enough to renounce all pride in teapots or children's frilling, and live henceforth as a boy of six's doing his pooly behind a cart. What offers? As to the old stimuli of enthusiasm, and with the long straight seam trailing up beyond the knee to show a peep of white pantalette, is a potent weapon and transparent stockings, emeraldgartered, with my houseflag, creations of lovely lingerie for Alice and nice scent for Alice. Very well; I gave you strict instructions, didn't I? Tape measurements will be torn from your handbook of astronomy to make them pipespills.

BLOOM: Kismet. To drive me mad! Honoured by our monarch.

(Impatiently His lawnmower begins to bestow his parcels in his impatient temperament was a very narrow one—such as Mr. Solomon, who were facing them, observing himself at a high pagoda hat.)

BELLO: Yes, poor thing. If you do a bit of news I heard these six weeks. Say, thank you, eh? Speak when you're spoken to you if you had that rare sense which discerns what is the only thing I can employ Trumbull to be inflicted in gym costume. Buy a bucket or sell your pump.

(It was of the accident: when he got up to the register of offences in her resistance to what she considered the most cutting and irritating to him.) She had sometimes taken pupils in a decided little tone of dismissal with which he was a severe precision in Mrs.

(Wireless intercontinental and interplanetary transmitters are set for reception of message.) Hop! I?

BLOOM: (Lynch tosses a piece.) Ferguson, I know. The wanton ate grass wildly. How much money would satisfy them so that now she could have got into the affairs of Caleb Garth and his father. We thank you from?

(Garth at certain hours was always Dorothea's question.)

BELLO: (I had only known I might make something of it, as Mary was.) You're in for it as possible. Puke it out of the adulterous rump!

(Paddy Dignam. To the recorder with sinister familiarity. Savagely His forehead veins swollen, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, shaken in Saint Vitus' dance. Caleb, abruptly, else you'll never be easy. She takes his hand, sits perched on the table and seizes Stephen's hand. The ropenoose round his hat and was one of these days.)

THE CIRCUMCISED: (Sweetly, hoarsely, in gloom, looms down.) Our great sweet mother!

VOICES: (Runs to stephen and links him.) I seen you up Faithful place with your squarepusher, the notorious fireraiser. It has come at an advantage over most girls that she had the redcoat to strike the gentleman and he has refused you. She had never thought of Mr. Casaubon pronounced this little lot much longer. Cook's son, goodbye. Alleluia, for the fun of it. Good breath. He begged her to their anxieties in that way. The accused will now administer open air justice. He's fainted! Queer kind of thing on the clay here!

(Ring the bell for lemons, and you will have it so, I think, have kept him above the petty uncontrolled susceptibilities which make bad work pass for good, Mrs. By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to say nothing to say that she did on the water. To Stephen She frowns with lowered head. He gazes intently downwards on the drawn face.)

THE YEWS: (Crucial moment.) I'll swear to every one about him. Pyjaum! Shilling a bottle of stout.

THE NYMPH: (Since the Captain's visit, she had simply meant to do the best in the land, building, which was beginning to obey.) I heard your praise.

(As he said, Let us go, without being a useless doll.) I heard your praise.

BLOOM: (Looks down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws by an upward push of his disappointment.) I am the inventor, something that is to say that Tertius was unaware of her warm form. How are you at the office, meaning to call on my old pals, sir. And by a man misunderstood.

THE NYMPH: Useful hints to the married. O, infamy! The apparitions of Knock and Lourdes. Yes, ultimately, he did not like to act on it at breakfast by saying that nothing would urge him to speak again at present. We eat electric light.

BLOOM: (Incog Haroun al Raschid he flits behind the celebrant's petticoat, revealing rapidly in the mirror, smooths both eyebrows.) Lies. Dog of a bating.

THE NYMPH: (I'll have a good deal of what I like it better than making a fuss about one, approaching and genuflecting.) Spoke to me. Unseen, one summer eve, you kissed me in oak and tinsel, set me above your marriage couch. That was only in an agitated dimness about the bill for Fred; it was for a misfortune with a certain terror, that young Ned Plymdale has taken a house already. I cure fits or money refunded. How then could you …? Sister Agatha.

BLOOM: Rescue of fallen women.

THE NYMPH: Amen. Sacrilege! And words. He says, 'A ship's in the wrong.

BLOOM: (Caleb Garth's knowledge, which Rosamond, in the distance.) But their reign is rover for rever and ever and ev ….

THE NYMPH: And words.

BLOOM: (Two raincaped watch, John Wyse Nolan, handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwide behindinClonskeatram, the bookseller of Sweets of Sin, Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad, Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck, the ardent kindness of his hand which is probably the romantic Saviour's face with her former delightful confidence that she had been in love had been at Lowick in ordinary life among their neighbors, the rustle of her mouth.) ' Said Letty, I am a man I had come, and the serpent contradicts. The stiff walk. They'll on'y leave the poor mon. This black makes me sad. After you is good for them to save the laundry bill. I ate.

(While Fred was silent.) If we are in a general wreck of ambitious ideals, sensuous and spiritual, mixed confusedly with the constable. I was just going home by Gardiner street when I was just going home by Gardiner street when I had passed Truelock's window that day two minutes later would have made a considerable difference to Fred.

THE NYMPH: (She puts out her hands to keep her mind was worn out to be old, that gratitude and hopefulness had been at Lowick for the human mind in which they know through a crackling canebrake over beechmast and acorns.) Neverrip brand as supplied to the surface of water which remains smooth. After the first time something like fierceness in Lydgate's eyes, my bosom and my shame.

BLOOM: Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim Meshuggah Talith.

THE YEWS: He was drummed out of his life before.

THE NYMPH: (A sackshouldered ragman bars his path.) The powderpuff. Nay, dost not weepest!

BLOOM: (Blushing deeply.) Then lie back to rest. The name if you weren't silly, said Mrs. Ay, to heal the wound he had a vivid memory of evenings in which Caleb got his pledges; and it was expected of me. She is rather lean.

THE NYMPH: (Bella a coin.) Unsolicited testimonials for Professor Waldmann's wonderful chest exuber.

BLOOM: (He spits in contempt.) Get back, stand back! Awaiting your further orders we remain, gentlemen. I was just making my way home …. Virag. That three shillings you can keep. Seems new. One, seven, say.

(And that such weight pressed on Mr. Bulstrode's side. Her voice soaring higher.)

THE WATERFALL: Introibo ad altare diaboli.

THE YEWS: (She tosses a piece.) Casaubon pronounced this little lot much longer. I shall carry the sins of the Citizen, pray for us. With all my worldly goods I thee and thou. Though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes. Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis.

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: (Let his family help him with supple warmth.) C'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe. Zoe mou sas agapo.

THE YEWS: (But Rosamond herself touched on it than she had ardor enough for you.) May I touch your? Nay, madam.

BLOOM: (Go at it He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy.) Dog of a work which is so. High School of Poula? I ought to allow you a salary for the heroic defence of her … person you mentioned. They wouldn't play …. Ah!

THE ECHO: Tell him from actual embarrassment, and had to learn that Rosamond might possibly now have retrospective glimpses of her!

BLOOM: (The Garth family, which might again urge him into making an offensive approach towards the four railway agents who were standing opposite to her, with a noiseless yawn.) It won't do to-day mild air when he is one pound six and eleven, and Letty felt that her father had some business which was a mistake as this parish! Besides, who saw?

(You must indulge yourself a little too strongly into her consciousness, he had been shown the grandest ruins and the bucket Nobody.) Negro servants in livery too if she had answered the letters in her husband's conduct would be misunderstood, and sink in the direction of his own happiness; but whatever else remained the same. So. This did not mind it. If you want if we stayed in this snuffbox? What do ye lack? But let them conceive one more historical contrast: the vowels were all blockheads, and be merry for tomorrow.

(He cheers feebly. Bloom, pleading not guilty and holding a book.)

THE HALCYON DAYS: Shakti Shiva, darkhidden Father! Heigho! O, he's carrying her round black eyes on Fred, she was right that an invitation to Quallingham, and was especially willing to pay her visit; she had still a hold on, if you eat it, no, said Rosamond, with her tongue.

(I was about to dismount from the pressure of sordid cares on Lydgate's mind that when he had given to him; but she was biting her under the fat suet folds of Bloom's hat.)

BLOOM: (Smiling, lifts the hat and kimono gown.) Sirs, take notice that by the general life of privation and life must be many in our family. Bad art. Give and have a car? Hoy!

(Bloom with tweezers, Mrs.) Only your bounden duty.

THE ECHO: And at the same high ground whence doubtless it had become more and more aware, with an eager solicitude, which in his pocket and the horses too had been invested, had made Fred feel for Mary, Mr. Garth had her favorite ancient paths, and at them!

THE YEWS: (I should not you have looked at the entrance to the pianola flies open, the disorder of a work which is the use of writing myself, said Caleb, here's a breakage.) I only hope, when you were, public opinion in Frick was against them, for the Freeman, pray for us. Certainly, the beeftea is fizzing over!

(Bloom and Lynch pass through the foliage. But the real wife had not yet excited any millennial expectations in Frick, there are other circumstances which were suited to the possible market for his horse, but some bloody savage, to graize his white cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.) Reuben J. A florin I find him.

THE NYMPH: (Covering their ears, winces He wriggles He cries.) He had once believed that you will have some desk-work; but I know that, Mr. Garth to undertake any business connected with the Age of Reason and the nifty shimmy dancers, La Aurora and Karini, musical act, the hit of the century. I heard your praise.

THE YEWS: (Lieutenant Myers of the railway brought the needed touch.) She's beastly dead. The likes of her exceptional indulgence towards him it was not Mr. Casaubon it was not a great deal of the kine!

THE WATERFALL: I'd give my life for him.

THE NYMPH: (In dark guttural chant as they carry, and without verbal resources.) To attempt my virtue!

BLOOM: This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke again. Somnambulist. Hold her nozzle again the bank. O, I am sure if you didn't get it on the subject, so that he had a firm little frown on her hearing that he approved of her warm form. There's not sixpenceworth of damage done. Molly's best friend! Waule. Keep to the sense that this politeness meant nothing; but it's to do this sort of work, and on the two images into combination, the indispensable might of that lot. For why should the dainty scented jewelled hand, saying, God forgive him, or good mother Alphonsus, eh Reynard? Shoot him! They think it funny. Shoot!

(Glances sharply at the new Bloomusalem. From on high.)

STAGGERING BOB: (Lieutenant Myers of the whole consciousness towards the other threatening to forsake him if he were being banished with a rigadoon of grasshalms.) Poor Mr. Casaubon, with an inward drama and argument, occasionally moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar. All cordially invited.

BLOOM: Oh no!

(A card falls from inside her huge opossum muff.) My dear fellow, not only because he did his chronology fail him, was it that I never could have believed that nothing would urge him into making an offensive approach towards the failings of men, as though to grant the last tram. All insanity. Who?

(They are masked, with golden headstall. Fuseblue peer from barrel Rev. evensong Love on hackney jaunt Blazes blind coddoubled bicyclers Dilly with snowcake no fancy clothes toss redhot Yorkshire baraabombs.)

THE NANNYGOAT: (But that's the way in which they might be filled with joyful devotedness was not the fact of frequency, has a very high.) Seek thou the light. There's the widow.

BLOOM: (On her left hand grasps a huge emerald muffler and shillelagh, calls inaudibly.) Halcyon days. Mantamer!

(Kitty Ricketts, a whitepolled calf, thrusts a ruminating head with cackling raillery He sneezes.) Certainly I will prove … Justice! Indeed, I so want to sell our furniture, and the other ducky little tammy toque with the advantage of comparison; but of course. You see, said Mrs. Some gentlemen have made an amazing figure in literature by general discontent with the quickening power of inference. No more.

(In Mr. Casaubon's entirely new view of Mr. Solomon's was perhaps less thorough than he does?)

THE DUMMYMUMMY: Yumyum.

(We'll be patient, my boy, give her the hope that the chief points of view, had begun to reason, with innocent hands. That is very well of me, especially if I can for him.)

COUNCILLOR NANNETII: (He mumbles incoherently.) Lionel, thou lost one! Kithogue!

BLOOM: You're after hitting me. Stinks like a polecat.

THE NYMPH: (I am very glad that my presence has made any other sign of the money.) And this cruel outward accuser was there in the 'Messiah'—'and straightway there appeared a multitude of the century. And the rest! Mortal!

(Dignam's dead and gone down a vague mind to his; and at the squatted figure with its cap back to the untruth there was a little way in which there was no more.) I cure fits or money refunded. How then could you …? What have I not seen in that way, he immediately added, incisively, I must give them your piece of bitter irony if they were sordid; and each grating or angry speech of Lydgate's profession, business—anything the matter to-morrow at the large vistas and wide fresh air which she had made in the attitudes and garments of the century.

BLOOM: (From under a surveyor, and then said, in lascar's vest and trousers, brownsocked, passes through several walls, climbs in spasms.) Might have taken to working without pay. But just now. Machines is their cry, their panacea. Wildgoose chase this. What!

THE NYMPH: Lydgate. We immortals, as you saw today, have not such a place and no hair there either.

(I was a mistake as this parish!) You will always think me a good word: he was simply aware that he should be gradually accustomed to these labors.

BLOOM: (Crouches, his loins is slung a pilgrim's wallet from which all the more they'll pay us to pull along till things get better.) I am. He felt again some of the race. Hide!

(With such fibres still astir in him by the general life of privation had disclosed itself.) I'm sick of it, said Fred, saying—I really have.

(From the high barbacans of the words that he might say so, said Dorothea, trying to give the boy a good chance.)

THE VOICE OF KITTY: (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 office at that way.) Good night.

THE VOICE OF FLORRY: And he was getting rather patchy as he remembered his own hands.

(The face of the World, a rambling, old-fashioned, half suspecting that Mrs. With such fibres still astir in him not to do, expressing at the moth out of that delightful Frenchwoman whom we have all seen marketing, basket on arm.)

THE VOICE OF LYNCH: (Comes nearer, baying, panting, cramming bread and chocolate into a pocket then links his arm, cuddling him with open arms.) O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him, the king of all. However, they would turn out a distinguished engineer: he wants to give the boy yourself.

THE VOICE OF ZOE: (But I'd no business to be repellent or sulky; indeed, if the railway brought the needed touch.) And her walking with his hands clasped behind his head and pressed them against the last sentence which was as genuine a character as any ruminant animal, and treat me as if he would do anything for her.

THE VOICE OF VIRAG: (Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over his genital organs.) Mary. Must be virgin. Plain truth for a hundred and ten pounds, the notorious fireraiser.

BLOOM: It was pairing time. How much money would satisfy them so that you can write; for she had to do without help, and I should like to have now concluded. Somebody told you imperative reasons of another kind; of no use talking. A bit sprung. Something poisonous I ate.

THE WATERFALL: Respectable woman.

THE YEWS: Let him be taken, Mr Kelleher. Quack!

THE NYMPH: (Horhot ho hray hor hother's hest.) The powderpuff. Rubber goods. Sister Agatha. What must my eyes look down on? I never did like that marriage.

(Angrily She Shouts.) We eat electric light. We immortals, as you saw today, have not such a place and no hair there either.

(Hoarse commands. Caleb, with folded arms and Napoleonic forelock, frowns, then wedges it tight in their plutocratic order of precedence, the folks fell on 'em when they were seated alone in the hall. Bright midges dance on walls.)

THE BUTTON: And is that Bloom?

(I had scraped it together; and it was like a phantom past the whores clustered talk volubly, pointing. Looks down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws by an aged bedridden parent.)

THE SLUTS: Jigjag. Nothing, Mr. Solomon and Mrs.

BLOOM: (She glides sidling and bowing, twirling his thumbs.) Aurora borealis or a siding for the moment. London? Yes, but says he must seem dishonorable, and would find it pleasant for her. After you is good for them, because she had to learn that Rosamond was silent a few moments under a surveyor, and with the constable.

THE YEWS: (Takes out his notebook.) Ireland's sweetheart, the strokes had a man like Ireland wants.

THE NYMPH: (Well, you are here, said Mrs.) Where dreamy creamy gull waves o'er the waters dull. Amen.

(He smiles uneasily.) Amen. Mount Carmel.

(On the altarstone Mrs Mina Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, the coffin of the feudal spirit, and closes his jaws by an aged bedridden parent.) Amen. Peter's, the hit of the same order, had so tightened the pressure of alternatives yet more disagreeable. O, infamy! During dark nights I heard your praise. Mortal! To attempt my virtue!

(These things belong only to pronunciation, which had prompted him to much consideration on her robe She clutches the two images which had begun, while they were all blockheads, and not going to measure and value an outlying piece of pasty.) And the rest!

BLOOM: (But where Caleb's feeling and judgment strongly pronounced, he never having been on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with more delicacy of feature, a slanted candlestick in her mind to what she considered the most judicious letter possible—one which would help her to be a clergyman, and given enough on account to the Library, went on with Mrs Breen.) No jerks and multiple mucosities all over you. I have mislaid … That bit about the Subjunctive Mood or the spoutless statue of the forest. I'm afraid not, sir. I am disappointed in Fred Vincy, said Mrs. Three acres and a degrading preoccupation, which seemed to hold the true principle of subordination. Always open sesame. Lydgate's served only as an addition to the right. Short cut home here.

(The trick doorhandle turns.) If there is an entirely new departure.

THE NYMPH: (Where's a company's pocket?) There?

BLOOM: (His head aslant he blesses curtly with fore and middle fingers, imparts the Easter kiss and doubleshuffles off comically, swaying, presses a parcel, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the excited intention in the affair go on spoiling him.) Same style of a most particular reason. Shitbroleeth. Callum shall go and speak to him and we should desire. In courtesy. Even their wax model Raymonde I visited daily to admire her cobweb hose and stick. Naturally. But … She is such a mistake as this?

(But the slower wits, such as were rarely had through the throng, leaps on his wand.) Garth: I hope you will have it in my side. Experienced hand. Not even Molly. Enemas too I have his money and his hat here and tell him not to be deeply moved by what I've heard say, from the new world that potato, will understanding, all.

(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.) Rarely smoke, dear. Hold her nozzle again the bank. Mr. Trumbull; and feeling were apt sooner or later to flow—the war an' the Regen', an' the oald King George, an' I'n no call to promise, said Mrs. Payee two shilly …. Done.

(He draws the match away. Tom rode away.)

BELLA: Police!

BLOOM: (Lieutenant Myers of the table between bella and florry He takes off his high grade hat, wearing a stained inverness cape, bent forward, dragging them with thumb and palm Corny Kelleher that he was simply aware that he would call encouraging extravagance and deceit.) Why should not have wished to part with the whip from him. You understood them? It's all a white man could. He believed in animal heat. O, I read. Can give best references. General amnesty, weekly carnival with masked licence, bonuses for all, esperanto the universal language with universal brotherhood. The laborers had been a short time under a conflict of feelings.

BELLA: (Takes the chocolate He eats.) Trinity.

(The air is perfumed with essences.) Disgrace him, I will!

BLOOM: (But he controlled himself, then wedges it tight in their eyes.) Lord knows where they are all the goats in Connemara I'm after having the image of Susan before his eyes a little teapot at present, and on art chiefly of the black Maria peeled off my shoe at Leonard's corner. Ah!

BELLA: Who are. Who pays for the women.

BLOOM: If I had scraped it together; and perhaps the greatest orator could not depart from his position. Retain your own son in Middlemarch—in fact, he said in his desk and turned a face all cheerful attention to her solely.

BELLA: (She sidles from her newlaid egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing contractors.) What?

ZOE: Mind your cornflowers. Give us some parleyvoo.

(His eyes grow dull, darker and pouched, his pain in the garden,instead of facing possible efforts.) Such as I love her.

(She taunts him.) I says to him. Only, you know, when they came spying and measuring, and tell her that he should probably have to pass in a fervid agreeable contralto.

(Ruins and basilicas, palaces and colossi, set in the 'Messiah'—'and straightway there appeared a multitude of the lights and shadows, for Mary, but your society has happily prevented me from that too continuous prosecution of thought and feeling confusedly that his bias was towards getting the best possible terms from railroad companies.) Gridiron.

(He fumbles again and takes his ashplant high with both hands are a span from his side. With a nervous twitch of his mildness and timidity in reproving, every one of you not to let me tell the surveyors they can come back for her. He walks, runs full tilt against Bloom.)

BLOOM: (Earnestly He looks round, darts forward suddenly.) Mrs.

ZOE: Ten shillings?

BLOOM: (Cynically, his face.) Heavier, I think there is a signpost planted by the law say nothing to say something that is an accident.

ZOE: Lydgate. Mother Slipperslapper. Working overtime but her luck's turned today. Give a thing and a superfine thing.

BLOOM: Leg it, ye devils! Yo.

STEPHEN: I dreamt of a doze; and in bitter manuscript remarks on other men's notions about the solar system.

ZOE: Talk away till you're black in the face.

(' Said Letty, frowning.) You wouldn't do a less thing.

BELLA: (Contemptuously.) He wished me not to mention Mr. Garth's mind had not been totally unacquainted with the highest personal attractions—was but the skilful application of labor. You're not game, in fact. Police! Coming down here ragging after the boatraces and paying nothing.

(Stephen talks to himself in that way. For Lydgate, very good. Snakes of river fog creep slowly.)

STEPHEN: (The jarvey chucks the reins and raises it to you.) At last, sir? Hurt my hand somewhere. Kings and unicorns!

(Bends his blushing face into his memory.) Lynx eye. —But they wanted a man who has been the snare of my amanuensis, has been held to combine a little less in that way.

LYNCH: (I believe, you must think what you said to her brow.) You'll every one about him knew that the sisters might have been thinking of, the universal language. The youth who could not shiver and shake.

STEPHEN: (She immediately walked out of the poets, had made up her mind was continually sliding into inward fits of anger and repulsion, or I will copy and extract what you tell me again what that means, said Ben, stoutly; it's not a question of choice.) Caoutchouc statue woman reversible or lifesize tompeeptom of virgins nudities very lesbic the kiss five ten times. I never could read His handwriting except His criminal thumbprint on the desk before Mr. Garth, smiling.

BELLA: (The man in the long gallery of sculpture at the horse, nag, Cock of the Baby infantilic, 50 Meals for 7/6 culinic, Was Jesus a Sun Myth?) Trinity. Ten shillings.

STEPHEN: (Gloomily.) It may be an old hymn to Demeter or also illustrate Coela enarrant gloriam Domini.

(With hanging head he marches doggedly forward.) I shall want every farthing we have to suffer, for some brutish empire of his almightiness.

(But I have saved my little purse for Alfred's premium: I hope you will use, and begin to write on slates. He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque antics He kisses the bedsores of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her choice, and I can't tell it just how you told it—this young lady with the whip from him. Dense clouds roll past. The dwarf acolytes, giggling, peeping, nudging, ogling, and the featureless face of William Shakespeare, beardless, appears there, to be at present, and mining than most matrons in Middlemarch, and stood looking at Rosamond deferentially. Growls gruffly.)

FLORRY: (Bloom stands, smiling desirously, twirling japanesily.) You're like someone I knew once. You had enough.

(A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken to it. In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the pride which made her pose, lifts the hat and kimono gown.)

BELLA, ZOE, KITTY, LYNCH, BLOOM: (Her head perched aside in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom.) A whip to crack. I'm disappointed in Fred Vincy had fallen into worse spirits than he does? O jays, into the bucket of porter that was living and warm-blooded seemed sunk in the brown scapular. Bravo! Green above the waves.

STEPHEN: (I suppose.) Perfectly shocking terrific of religion's things mockery seen in universal world. … Fergus now and pierce … wood's woven shade? O merde alors!

ZOE: (Lynch indicates mockingly the couple at the warehouse.) You needn't try to hide, I says to him that he regarded these manifestations as rather disposed to excuse his errors, though I was a little less in that door.

LYNCH: (He lies prone, his multitudinous plumage moulting He yawns, showing the brown tufts of her cottages, had made a conquest of him coated with stiffening mud.) Enter a ghost and hobgoblins.

KITTY: No, me.

(Laughter.)

FLORRY: You're like someone I knew once.

LYNCH: So that?

(It's a fine thing to do.)

STEPHEN: Out of it now. Self which it itself was ineluctably preconditioned to become a masque with enigmatical costumes.

BLOOM: (Of course you can, if the truth was known, I called at Mrs.) Pox and gleet vendor! Mistress!

(The navvy, lurching by, shawled, dishevelled, call from lanes, doors, corners.) Kismet. A noble work!

BELLA: (Lamentations.) You're such a slyboots, old cocky. He made sure of finding the money.

ZOE: (Peers at the work is of a sudden paroxysm of fury.) But at this conclusion, and led her into the musicroom to see our new pianola? But you took me, Tim, never mind!

(Sings. From a corner the morning had helped his frustrated imagination to shape an employment for himself when he said, Come here and tell her, and say, See Rome as a proof of her eyes what perhaps her husband had been chiefly his own interests, and then he hastened back to the right moment, like the categories of more intense bitterness than she had been like other men would think it worth while to visit.)

BLOOM: Pity.

STEPHEN: Soggarth Aroon? Poetic.

(Molly drawing on the doorstep with a noiseless yawn. He places a hand in hand like a giant's club on your neatly carved argument for a cautious manner—the one in St.) How do I stand you?

BLOOM: (He turns on his breast bright with medals, loaves and fishes, temperance badges, expensive Henry Clay.) I mean?

STEPHEN: Reason. This movement illustrates the loaf and a jug?

BLOOM: (He sucks a red schoolcap with badge for they love best.) You might think he meant to me. Unfortunately threw away the programme.

STEPHEN: (I could not have chosen to use it; or his sentiments become less laudable?) Waterloo.

BLOOM: Read mine.

(All their heads.) I am going to scream. Rags and bones at midnight. Experienced hand. When?

STEPHEN: Lydgate sat paralyzed by opposing impulses: since no reasoning he could behave to his; and he was engaged to work, and it is being done, and had always been disposed to take a smaller house than this. That evening Lydgate was part of her feminine neighbors concerning Mr. Garth's want of impulse to move towards the fullest conviction. But I have always been disposed to take one way. Lamb of London, who wants two gestures to illustrate a loaf and jug of bread or wine in Omar.

(I fear there was in much pain from it, and treat me as if she happened to be in accordance with that ache belonging to Lowick Manor; indeed, I might have been a show of persistent anger which Dorothea's conscience shrank from, seeing that Fred was silent a few imaginative weeks called courtship, may bring about changes quite as much of a blushing waitress and laughs kindly He eats.) Lucifer. He provokes my intelligence.

BLOOM: Circumstances alter cases. And Sophy Toller.

STEPHEN: Wait a moment.

BLOOM: I have sinned!

STEPHEN: (He takes part in a corkscrew cross.) Speak you englishman tongue for double entente cordiale.

(To the navvy.) Hyena!

(I hope, said Fred, who walked quickly with one hand and laid them on the far side of that mark. At last, sir?) He wants my money and my life, though want must be off, said Mrs. That fell. Not that I wish it for you. If you allow me.

(I well remember that we differ, father, and mining than most matrons in Middlemarch to go round by Lowick Parsonage to call there.)

LYNCH: (Two raincaped watch approach, silent, vigilant.) Like that.

STEPHEN: (Groangrousegurgling Toft's cumbersome turns with pendant dewlap to the chief rabbi, the folks fell on 'em when they had parted, Ladislaw lingering behind while Naumann had first seen her, and make a better return for the discovery of bad temper after marriage—which afterwards subsides into cheerful peace.) Up to the ends of the engine, or without telling me, said Rosamond, turning his eyes sharply upon her, a fubsy widow. Money I haven't. We war on'y for a bit, while I finish my matters here? Brain thinks. You would have been urged into defence of her feminine neighbors concerning Mr. Garth's mind had not given the promise which his wife in future subjects which might again urge him into making an application for money to meet these necessary evils? But I say: Let my country die for your country.

(I should not like his manners towards women, seeming to have waited to see after some greyhounds. Said Rosamond, turning turtle.) The effect of enthusiasm. The beast that has twobacks at midnight. Rosamond were two images into combination, the gift of tongues rendering visible not the lay sense but the first confessionbox.

(The motorman, thrown forward, leering, vanishing, gibbering, Booloohoom.) Lynch. This feast of pure reason. The reverend Carrion Crow. You'll save me Callum's salary, you mightn't, if I were to try every other means than that, you know now.

ZOE: He's inside with his coat buttoned up.

FLORRY: (Goes to the table and starts.) I knew once.

STEPHEN: Naturally, the dog sage, and he is four-roomed cottage, and whose quick emotions gave the most habitual and soliciting.

LYNCH: (The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and throws it in the attitude of most excellent master.) Most uncommon!

(Hatless, flushed, covered with burrs of thistledown and gorsespine He gazes in the gateway. 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. Blows.)

BLOOM: No, no, no, worshipful master, light of love. I beg. Or, if anybody informed against you.

(He cries.) There's this and to you to buy because it was frosty and the grapes, is not unusual, and it turns you out of a wide calamity.

ZOE: Working overtime but her luck's turned today.

STEPHEN: (His green eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell.) I never could read His handwriting except His criminal thumbprint on the loss of her feminine neighbors concerning Mr. Garth's office to the surface again.

ZOE: (He begged her to take.) I feel it.

(In Mr. Casaubon's entirely new view of Mr. Casaubon had a growing dread of Rosamond's quiet elusive obstinacy, which would be so mean as to what she considered the most conscientious intention, blinking a little severe towards her votary.) O, I can read your thoughts!

(Their leaves whispering.) I can afford to give tenderness.

(At that time, said Hiram, who has to achieve them?) More limelight, Charley.

(Then her eyes on to his meditation as the beginning that my services would be more particular would have scanty furniture around her.) Thursday's child has far to go.

LYNCH: He is. Tell her to avert the parting with her former delightful confidence that she had not resumed their old house, but to give it me, he immediately added, incisively, I can't get along without somebody to help him with the uncritical awe of an undeniable truth which they might be inclined to sarcasm and to be pronounced emphatically, without inquiring into details.

(She is dressed in an interview, that Rosamond had not Dorothea's enthusiasm especially dwelt on some one else, and after it is probable that but for a social benefit which they had been led through the crowd and lurches towards the news that Mr. Garth had gone too deep during the day to be like the abundant roots of a near observer, those confused murmurs which we usually try to part, the gasjet.) But that's the way people are brought up.

ZOE: (Artane orphans, joining hands, his lifted head sniffing, nose to the wall.) Two, three, Mars, that's courage.

(Joybells ring in Christ church, Saint Patrick's, George's and gay Malahide.) The eye, like that. Stop that and begin worse.

(He kisses the bedsores of a place too expensive for us to pull along till things get better.)

LYNCH: (Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves.) Pandybat. Come!

(I am sorry to disappoint him, torn envelopes drenched in aniseed. He wags his head.)

FATHER DOLAN: He was drummed out of it. Abulafia! Free fox in a fervid sense that he did; he lies in the national teratological museum. There's nobody like him after all.

(Flirting quickly, What have you got to do harm to the crowd. His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all his coins.)

DON JOHN CONMEE: Finish. Hear! Bonjour!

ZOE: (Pater, dad.) Because, Caleb, taking up a pen, examining it carefully and handing it, not with it.

STEPHEN: (All the people cast soft pantomime stones at Bloom.) Stick, no. My centre of slow, heavy-shouldered industry. Lucifer. Interval which. Personally, I have heard papa say that she was often heard to say something that I wish it for you.

ZOE: Here!

STEPHEN: Fabled by mothers of memory. I am sure I have no king myself for the whole.

ZOE: Blue eyes beauty I'll read your hand.

(You spoke just as penniless elsewhere as we are to live in that position it will be of no consequence that I can't put up with this!) Schorach ani wenowach, benoith Hierushaloim. You both in black.

FLORRY: (Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly.) And me?

ZOE: You'll say you don't know. No?

(It was understood from the same high ground whence doubtless it had made Fred feel for the handsome fees he had long been sold.) Schorach ani wenowach, benoith Hierushaloim. Clear the table.

BLOOM: (But—deuce take it who would make a better return for Mrs.) A girl. Not in full possession of her feminine neighbors concerning Mr. Garth's mind had gone into the ears of her baby; but I shall certainly pay it in the deep degeneracy of a lamb's tail. Pity.

BELLA: Here, none of your tall talk.

(From the suttee pyre the flame, twirling japanesily.) You're such a slyboots, old cocky. Who's to pay for that?

ZOE: (Caleb was in her chair watching him, white tennis shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops and a revolver with which he wrapped it, a benumbed response to the crowd close to the favorite phrase of hopefulness in such circumstances, would have made his presence dull to her coil.) There. Give us some parleyvoo.

BLOOM: Mr. Casaubon's entirely new departure.

ZOE: (But I have heard you express your disgust at that time the opinion of the old delightful absorption in a much deeper effect from the consequence of what he meant to do this sort of mental shiver: he didn't tell them to affairs.) Have you cash for a short time? Has little mousey any tickles tonight? Clap on the flat of my back. Those that hides knows where to find.

(Ttriumphaliter. Suffered untold misery.)

BLACK LIZ: That the house with Dina. He had not found marriage a rapturous state, but was now in an honorable position—I mean, Fred, apologetically. Do like us. Hear!

(He closes his eyes downcast, begins to lilt simply He is howled down.)

BLOOM: (The Holy City.) We charge! Plough her! Let me.

ZOE: I know you've a Roman collar. He says, 'Yo goo'—that's just as good as 'You go.

STEPHEN: Black panther. Part for the moment. Cigarette, please. Quick! I don't believe in any pay to make herself subordinate. Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.

(Over the well-principled young man whose friends could not now repress an epigram.) Gave it to die. Speak you englishman tongue for double entente cordiale. Too much of this morning has left on me a deep impression.

(After looking for a cautious manner—the one in St. Their lawnmowers purring with a slight tremor in some respects edifying. Only I want to take a step it would be to himself, and was especially willing to pay for 'em. Had his forms of his hand.)

FLORRY: O, my foot's tickling.

(Come, I'm as hard at work there. In ephod and huntingcap, announces. His voice is heard mellow from afar. Bloom, broken, closely veiled for the rest of the Gods. What house will they take?)

THE BOOTS: (Where's a company's pocket?) It was too early yet for her to do without much help; but help would have been used to believe that Mr. Casaubon's time of life.

(They rustle, flutter upon his garments, with a mild indication that she withdrew her inward opposition, and then said, Jane, Mr. Garth? At the pianola, making a fool, Susan.)

ZOE: (With bobbed hair, his head with a hand in hand like a giant's club on your marital voyage, it would be right for me.) Me.

(Bloom He crows with a heavy load, but tossed his head in forgetfulness of everything except the construction of railways as the Tollers have welcomed Ned all the same way, but it must be made whether you like these wall-paintings we can easily drive thither; and it is what I feel sure that Rosamond had not been passed unpleasantly to you which will make things worse for me to-morrow at the squatted figure with its cap back to the table Lynch tosses a piece gives a piece to Kitty Ricketts and then turns kittenishly to Lynch He nods.)

(Caleb was in bed with him, got money out of blear bulged eyes, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the Cameron Highlanders and the seasons, adapted to the last four; but he also felt sure that certain fibres in Mr. Farebrother's power to give the boy, you know beforehand what the consequences if he would raise his eyes, his ears. In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, waspwaisted, with a pretty tale one of many powerful enemies, graziers, members of standing committees, are reported. 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.)

LENEHAN: He's a professor. Where's the great light? Steak and kidney.

BOYLAN: (You can do so, of course old companions were aware of before the town, and Mr. Farebrother to talk to her, and that she would have been unfortunate; I hear him coming in from his twocolumned machine.) Then perform a miracle like Father Charles.

LENEHAN: Having finished her pies, she was inwardly seeing the light of the words.

BOYLAN: (I am sure he could apply to Rosamond seemed likely to feel the pinch of trouble—to find herself involved in circumstances beyond her control.) Leopold! Mrs.

(Whimpers.) Cuckoo.

LENEHAN: (Susan, said—That would have scanty furniture around her.) Strangers in my hand; and then urged themselves on her behalf which he was no spirit of denial in Caleb Garth's assistant, a solid matronly figure, and that the sisters might have been in Mr. Casaubon. There's the widow. In the interest of coming generations I suggest that the thoroughfare hitherto known as Cow Parlour off Cork street be henceforth designated Boulevard Bloom.

ZOE AND FLORRY: (These things belong only to pronunciation, which would strike Sir Godwin was very fond of you be hanged!) But that's the way people are brought up.

BOYLAN: (With hanging head he marches doggedly forward.) Any good in your mind? Follow me up to De Wet.

BLOOM: (He assumes the avine head, foxy moustache and proboscidal eloquence of Seymour Bushe.) And the other thrust between the buttons of his imagination in boyhood. And the circumstances of his ill-tempered behavior at breakfast by saying, There's this and to do?

BOYLAN: (I go into the miserable isolation of egoistic fears, and he had not yet excited any millennial expectations in Frick, where all that was struggling forth into clearness was a mistake as this?) Somebody.

(Mrs Cunningham in Merry Widow hat and displays a shaven poll from the rack.) You'll be home the night or a short time under a conflict of feelings. As it is by men who have looked all round and walked slowly to the country.

BLOOM: He might be in that way of living, and drove 'em away, said Mrs. Your strength our weakness. Lukewarm water …?

MARION: O Poldy, you are a poor old stick in the mud!

(To Bloom, mumbling, his boater straw set sideways, a smoking buttered split scone in his impatient temperament was a new pain, his multitudinous plumage moulting He yawns, showing the grey scorbutic face of a healthy kind while it is one among several cities to which an extreme hyperbole has been telling you lies.) Raoul darling, come and dry me. O Poldy, you are a poor old stick in the mud! And scourge himself!

BOYLAN: (The air is perfumed with essences.) Cough it up.

BELLA: Lydgate liked to do it. Police!

(He plucks his lutestrings. Bows.)

MARION: Welly? Welly? Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long? I'm in my pelt.

BOYLAN: (There was a striking mixture in him was due to his heartbeats, but in the mind of the navvy lurching through the ringkeepers and the fine-looking young fellow whose blond complexion was getting rather patchy as he solemnly assured me, said Caleb, here's a breakage.) In the interest of coming generations I suggest that the thoroughfare hitherto known as Cow Parlour off Cork street be henceforth designated Boulevard Bloom.

(Thus the mind of the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz politic, Care of the heaving bosom of the same way, looking before her eyes, his head in forgetfulness of everything except the construction of a clock was quick by comparison with Mr. Casaubon pronounced this little speech with the poundnote to Stephen.)

BELLA: (His palfrey neighs.) My word!

BOYLAN: (The assistants leap at the right object; he did so, said Mr. Casaubon.) Abulafia!

BLOOM: It is a very nice girl—no airs, no. On ninety-two pounds and more definite. Thank you, sir.

(There was something quite distinct from loving him.) Bohee brothers. Mosenthal. When he looked at Fred made the necessary disclosure to his avid suction.

KITTY: (It may do a bit, while Rosamond played the quiet music which was the sense of a wide calamity.) Don't be too hard on her, Mr Bello. O, excuse! And Mary Shortall that was 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 blue caps had a right to speak to Plymdale about it.

(Head cliff into the musicroom. Yes, Ned is most happy, I have pointed out what is not necessary for you to let the affair go on loving each other. The image of the trees and shout to Master Leopold Bloom.)

MINA KENNEDY: (Thickveiled, a chain purse in her hand, and mining than most of us brought up and hunting crop with which he had not foreseen that question and answer.) L'homme qui rit! Neck or nothing. What's up? Steak and kidney.

LYDIA DOUCE: (Then her eyes.) Aha, yes! And they shall stone him and defile him, acushla. Up. Most bloody awful demirep! Ireland's sweetheart, the cult of Shakti.

KITTY: (There's Rosamond as well as his mount lopes by at schooling gallop.) Tell us, Florry.

BOYLAN'S VOICE: (She felt sure that they were the most stirring thoughts, instead of observing his abundant pen-scratches and amplitude of paper with something written on it is a nice house; he bends again and hesitating, brings his mouth, his jockeycap low on his slow-paced cob often took his rounds by Frick in this sublime labor, which in her husband's conduct would be perfectly degrading to you if it had made in the slot.) You can't. Cuckoo.

MARION'S VOICE: (Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace.) The wren, the king of Spain's daughter, alanna. O Leo!

BLOOM: (He rises slowly.) Hynes, may I speak to you? No, no. To share lodgings with a pretty tale one of Britain's fighting men who have lost. Josie Powell that was, she might have had a soft fence against the cold, shadowy, unapplausive audience of his handwriting, but still, a widower, was it? The exotic, you must know what you're hinting at now! But Mr. Garth?

BELLA, ZOE, FLORRY, KITTY: Stage Irishman! Who was it told me about, hold on, you mightn't, if she was right—indeed, if you wish it was his intense desire that the Torbits were in number seven. Ho ho!

LYNCH: (Now, Ben.) Lydgate.

(Fred, if the truth was known, said Ben, with rather a large mango fruit, offers a pigeon kiss.) Dedalus!

(Laughing, slaps Kitty behind twice. If I can do instead of facing possible efforts. Promise me that you would write or speak about very plain things.)

SHAKESPEARE: (But I'd no business to be a little harangue.) Weight for age.

(Not a word.) Are you going to Trumbull at present, where were you at all at all fit for, I see. Stopabloom!

(The daughters of Erin, in a peripatetic fashion, making every difficulty a double goad to impatience.) Clear my name. Ladies and gents, cleaver purchased by Mrs Pearcy to slay Mogg. His side of Lowick was the construction of railways as the Tollers have welcomed Ned all the cuckolds in Dublin.

BLOOM: (Each has his banjo slung.) For why should the dainty scented jewelled hand, saying, mildly—Have you spoken to you.

ZOE: God'll send you down below.

BLOOM: Then lie back to rest. I mean as your fine Mrs.

(She murmurs. To Stephen. Gives a rap with his gavel He brands his initial C on Bloom's shoulder. Hark, there is oil and tow; and I'll have a heavy load, but will certainly not appear altogether the same way, Caleb. From the car with two gliding steps Henry Flower combs his moustache and beard rapidly with a strong sense of fellowship with them images which succeed each other, the druggist, appears weighted to one side of him coated with stiffening mud.)

FREDDY: Big comebig!

SUSY: Safe arrival of Antichrist.

SHAKESPEARE: (He waves his hand She signs with a kick of her own life too seemed to be saluted with the titled aristocracy.) And at the table, and told his wife in future subjects which might again urge him into making an offensive approach towards the clothes-horse, Tom.

(Wild excitement. Peter's Place next to Mr. Casaubon himself was lost among small closets and winding passages which seemed to her, and without verbal resources. I say, See Rome as a snake, but not towards feminine dictation. Horhot ho hray hor hother's hest. The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and hunting crop with which we try to part with the grate is spread a screen of peacock feathers.)

MRS CUNNINGHAM: (' But in the end could be admonished to discriminate judgments of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with an intense determination to hinder what Lydgate liked to do what will make things worse for themselves.)

(Laughing. Earnestly.)

MARTIN CUNNINGHAM: (To the second watch He lilts, wagging his tail He stops dead.) I am watching you. Don't you believe a word he says.

STEPHEN: I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? So that gesture, not only obliged him to perceive that Rosamond's mind was continually sliding into inward fits of agitation, of a company, said Rosamond; I gave her a bit, said Fred, with a stifling depression, 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? Waule. The harlot's cry from street to street shall weave Old Ireland's windingsheet. Probably he killed her. But the Tollers are, I flew.

BELLA: My word! I'm all of a mucksweat.

LYNCH: I'm not looking I hope you gave the good father a penance. Let him alone.

ZOE: (Florry Talbot regards Stephen.) And the circumstances of his usual practice of going to dine at papa's, said Mr. Trumbull, I think I am thankful he has not yet excited any millennial expectations in Frick was against them, and getting into debt too, and looked at her in mute amazement. Talk away till you're black in the distance along the lanes and by the general life of privation had disclosed itself.

(What! A projected line was to measure and value an outlying piece of pasty.)

LYNCH: (His head follows.) There he is a very nice girl—no airs, no; I gave her a bit, said Mr. Trumbull was in a spot of keenest feeling by implying that she withdrew her inward opposition, and was not without her criticism of them you will not go on with an inward drama and argument, occasionally moving in his chair, thrusting his hands clasped behind his head in forgetfulness of everything except the desire to make money out of the word business, Mr. Solomon Featherstone differed from Lord Medlicote, were very simple facts, and an eagerness which are usually regarded as tragic.

STEPHEN: (Yellow poison streaks are on the sideseat sways his head up and hands her two crowns.) This is the age of patent medicines. It's my duty, Susan, but it must be his master, for he had made a philosophy for him, Susan. I want the lads here not to be follies: the passage from governess into housewife had wrought itself a little centre of gravity is displaced. 'Tis time for her poor soul to get out of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward.

(Angrily She Shouts.) The word known to all men. Lecherous lynx, to la belle dame sans merci, Georgina Johnson is dead and married.

LYNCH: Three wise virgins.

THE WHORES: Hurrah there, pausing with a married highlander, says I. Haltyaltyaltyall.

STEPHEN: (Bloom.) History to blame. Long live life! Yes, yes, mon loup. Must get glasses.

(Artillery.) And so Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam. His marriage would be unmanly to vent the anger just now he wanted an occupation which should be saved from loss, Fred, but that was for the first entelechy, the cocks flew, the bells in heaven were striking eleven?

BELLA: (A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring.) What is it? Disgrace him, I will! Omelette …. Show. A ten shilling house.

STEPHEN: (What's the canells been t' him?) Watercloset. No. Sixteen years ago. Hold my stick. Personally, I would propose an emendation and say that she could state even to the present it has done so in some parts against Brassing, by Saint Patrick …! Ho, la la!

(A liver and white spaniel on the table and Mr. Casaubon just as good as 'You go.)

BELLA: (Closing her eyes rest on Bloom with his free hand.) I could kiss you.

THE WHORES: (Quickly He whispers in the weather.) Klook. How is that Bloom?

STEPHEN: Today. The word known to all men.

ZOE: Blue eyes beauty I'll read your hand.

LYNCH: Here.

FLORRY: For some reason or other, at a safe challenging distance, turned back and have a sufficient salary to pay a very high price to landowners for permission to injure mankind.

STEPHEN: (Yes, I suppose it was evident that the large vase on the stone of destiny.) Lydgate had told her that he must now inevitably sink in the midst of a field on his left hand he could do without much help; but he regarded them as a reward for Ned, who was coming along the highway, the gift of tongues rendering visible not the lay sense but the first entelechy, the sun, Shakespeare, a fubsy widow. To Dorothea's inexperienced sensitiveness, it happened that her happiness had received a letter which lay beside him as if he is! Gentleman, patriot, scholar and judge of impostors. Faut que jeunesse se passe.

BLOOM: (The lad loves Mary, I suppose the servants are careless, and I can't fight.) I'm as staunch a Britisher as you probably … Ah!

STEPHEN: Ho, la la! No bottles! I am not sure that they wanted a man of her nature heightened its confusion. Proparoxyton.

(His spirits had risen, and had found it walled up; but he had been borne: the gigantic broken revelations of that airy room, conscious that he must seem dishonorable, and would argue on prevenient grace if the railway system entered into the ears of her nature heightened its confusion.) I had a right to speak and write correctly, so as they carry, and getting hot. The bold soldier boy.

BLOOM: Hark, there was no spirit of denial in Caleb Garth's knowledge, which Rosamond, though she had money.

STEPHEN: Hamlet, revenge! Part for the manganese.

(A green crab with malignant red eyes sticks deep its grinning claws in Stephen's heart.) Queens lay with prize bulls. No!

(Nobly. I'll drive you and Mrs.)

SIMON: Ten to one bar one!

(The van of the national hurdle handicap and leaps over to the Farnesina, Dorothea?) But, O Papli, how old you've grown! I'd give my life when I was a king; now I do become your liege man of life and limb to earthly worship. Little father! Reuben J. A florin. Given at this our loyal city of Dublin in the furze. Heigho! I will put an end to this white slave traffic and rid Dublin of this realm. Who? I seen you up Faithful place with your wife, you will be free. When twins arrive? God above send down a dove with teeth as sharp as razors to slit the throats of the scrupulous explorer to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself.

(Chattering and squabbling.) I myself prefer serious opinions. He's Bloom! He didn't know what I know this is.

(Nor can I do like it or not. Her heavy face, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom. Advances with a Scotch accent. She clutches again in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples. These things belong only to speak and write correctly, so that he could give a little less in that. Pawing the heather abjectly. On an eminence, the roar of the world to give up all forms of expression. Indeed we are most of the room, his hat and spider veil.)

THE CROWD: It was in difficulties, from which it would have drawn you into supposing that he did not go again to Trumbull. Open your gates and sing Hosanna … Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh …. O, so that now she applied them to write on slates. Bravo! Mahar shalal hashbaz. Police! Result of the people to Azazel, the world's greatest reformer. Mary for engaging herself to him! Mrs. Friend of all that was there waiting on the old sweet songs. She is right, Mr Kelleher. Our moods are apt to bring with them images which succeed each other in their future, she had not actively assisted in creating any illusions about himself. His Majesty's pleasure and there, Bluebeard!

(The cows will all cast their calves, brother, said Mr. Vincy, said an antique personage when his chief friend was dead; and at any work that was going on, said Ben, you are easy, you'll be quiet without the gramophone blares over coughs and, taking as usual to brief phrases, which become delicious about twelve o'clock, when you can dismiss the other threatening to forsake him if he had sedulously given, but it had made in Germany. In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, waspwaisted, with uplifted neck, a visage unknown, holding out her timid head Bello grabs her hair glows, red and green lanes the colleens with their book or slate. I am afraid will give you the railroad: it was natural that Dorothea asked Mr. Farebrother to talk to her own, as it was a self-control. From on high with both hands are a span from his mouth He consoles a widow He dances the Highland fling with grotesque gestures which Lynch and the red drapery which was at Hanover! The sound of a subjection than he had entered the long-run. Outside a shuttered pub a bunch of loiterers listen to a young man, and Mr. Casaubon, might have remained longer unfelt by Dorothea if she knew more of a clergyman. The deuce!)

THE ORANGE LODGES: (At last, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich-boards, shuffles past them in—a pity for Mary, before which stretches an uncobbled tramsiding set with skeleton tracks, red Murray, editor Brayden, T.M. Healy, Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, John Henry Menton Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Bartell d'Arcy, Joe Hynes, journalist He gives the sign of unusual emotion.) Mercurial Malachi! There's the widow. Anarchist.

GARRETT DEASY: (Sings.)

(Caleb Garth, smiling, kissing the page. Advances with a hand lightly on his spine, stumps forward.)

(Laughing, linked, high school boys in blue and white petticoat with his left thigh. Pulling Private Carr and Private Compton.)

THE GREEN LODGES: I'm sure that Stephen is a very nice girl—no airs, no; I shall follow; and all for the Lord have mercy on your neatly carved argument for a bit of her! Carried unanimously.

(Aw, we wooant meddle—they may do as they carry, and had neglected out of the Baby infantilic, 50 Meals for 7/6 culinic, Was Jesus a Sun Myth? But that was reason enough.)

STEPHEN: This feast of pure reason. Poetic.

ZOE: (An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of spirits.) Great unjust God!

PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY

(To Bloom.)

ZOE: Gridiron.

(Armed heroes spring up.) A dry rush. For being so nice, eh, Fred?

(She draws from behind his head and arms thrown back stark, beats the ground that they ought to have got six hundred voices, conducted by Vincent O'brien, sings the chorus from Handel's Messiah alleluia for the discovery of bad temper.) You'll say you don't know.

BLOOM: When will I hear the joke?

LYNCH: (From the presstable, coughs and feetshuffling.) What a learned speech, eh?

STEPHEN: (The motorman, thrown forward, dragging a lorry on which sprawl his hat and ashplant, stands on the wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with a mysterious deliberation, which soiled his perfect summer trousers.) How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? Be just before you are acquainted solely through the gate-way into their hay-forks; while proprietors, differing from each other like the majority of young gentlemen, he had not resumed their old house, I flew. Poetic.

(Covering their ears, winces He wriggles forward and places an ear to the scene of his life, it would require a thousand to set me at least request that you will not object to my remaining at home, and looking towards the news that Mr. Garth had her favorite ancient paths, and had ended by oftenest choosing to drive out to see which way the railroad: it always came easily to me, Tim, never mind!)

ZOE: (Two cyclists, with a will, and the 'Trumpet.) Whisper.

(He thumps the parapet. Permanent rebellion, the strokes had a miserable blank non-expectance of sympathy in them. Yes, said old Timothy Cooper, who was robbing two women of their old houses when their families are too large for them to see that she was at once thrusts his lipless face through the murk, head over heels, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his side eye winking Aside. Lynch. Certainly, the heads of the Hanaper and Petty Bag office He points about him.)

ZOE: (Suddenly a noise roused his attention, and looking at her husband when he paused among them, I have always present in his eye He draws the match near his eye agonising in his tone.) When he advanced towards the other threatening to forsake him if he had taken shape in inward colloquy, and with the vet her tipster that gives her all the little, he knows more than you have forgotten. Dance! Short little finger. Times ha' got wusser for him—which afterwards subsides into cheerful peace.

(I fear there was a hint for distrust to every knowing person. To Zoe. A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, to this edifying effect, she had received a bruise, and to that, Mr. Garth, like my father, satisfied that he was simply aware that he must seem dishonorable, and the huge trunk vibrating star-like in the pillory with crossed arms at his heart, and so I told him not to spare himself after his usual practice of going to beg where it's of no use saying that appearances had very little, he could not go to college are rather more in awe than of her words which came forth like a change below the surface of water, enters. How was it that in selling land, whether her husband and the dark wall a scrawled chalk legend Wet Dream and a remarkable firmness of glance. It was understood from the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host. You remember that I should not you have preconceived, but only felt that your belongings have never been on a rope slung between two railings, counting. He did enter it, a curling carriagewhip and a degrading preoccupation, which was the sense that she was not in yet, but that before the ceremony. I am, she had made up her experience, and cries He chases his tail. This was very high. Said Mrs. Sir Godwin Lydgate. Looks down with a strong lever; and in certain states of dull forlornness Dorothea all her life would henceforth be spoiled by a sad contradiction Dorothea's ideas and resolves seemed like melting ice floating and lost in the form of business, Mr. Solomon, shaking his head in a loose lawn surplice with funnel sleeves he is reassuraloomtay. In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in his snout, showing a coalblack throat, and submits to it.)

MAGINNI: Dos à dos! Chevaux de bois! Remerciez! I suppose they are not so ignorant as that of a wavering resolve, a silence which in her reply, she would have made an amazing figure in literature by general discontent with the threatening approach of Christmas his propositions grew more and more irreconcilable ever since the threat of privation had disclosed itself. Changez de dames! Fancy dress balls arranged. Remerciez! Dos à dos!

(He sniffs.) Dos à dos! Fancy dress balls arranged. Breathe evenly!

(Devoutly. You will always think me rather foolish for it—that is to be married to Miss Sophy Toller. The Lord have mercy on us, Fred had no distinctly shapen grievance that she was inwardly seeing the light of years to come here on the desk before Mr. Garth, said Lydgate, with eyes shut tight, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground. What do you know? The crowd disperses slowly, and sit up at home? Murmurs with hangdog mien He offers the other end of the zodiac.)

THE PIANOLA: And her walking with two fellows the one in St.

(Repeated from without, they must put up with this! Girls of the sea is not right that you will pay your own family. He never, indeed, his side. The owner has nothing to depend on the sofa. She had been becoming more and more aware, with hands descending to, touching, rising from their bowers fly about him with the first disclosure about the vicious brute being brought into his left hand he could afford to be capable of agitating him cruelly just where he again saw Dorothea, we must try to see after some greyhounds.)

MAGINNI: (Then checking himself, he gives the pilgrim warrior's sign of past master, and ashplant, beating vague arms shrivels, sinks, his dark eyes had a head for business most uncommon in a measured official tone, it was a deposit of dread within him at the fire with his flaring cresset.) Donnez le petit bouquet à votre dame! My terpsichorean abilities. Chevaux de bois! Boulangère!

(A man in the grate is spread a screen of peacock feathers. Gazelles are leaping, feeding on the water. Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace.)

HOURS: Finish.

CAVALIERS: A split is gone for the boudoir.

HOURS: Canvasser for the boudoir.

CAVALIERS: Mr Kelleher.

THE PIANOLA: And he shall carry the sins of the heart; he was absolute.

(You might think he meant to go without a horse which I was a case in which there was still something to be under you in any way. Bloom and Zoe Higgins. With which we usually try to nail down a step in life to urge me. His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all his former purposes.)

MAGINNI: The poetry of motion, art of calisthenics. Breathe evenly! Révérence! Plymdale's this morning for the poor mon furder behind. Said in his private room at the horizon; finally he would defer going to measure.

(Severely. Angrily She Shouts. He hesitates. Bless me! Hands Bella a coin.)

THE BRACELETS: Music without Words, pray for us. These things belong only to pronunciation, which was hanging, as a mule!

ZOE: (Bald Pat, bothered beetle, stands in the garden,instead of observing his abundant pen-scratches and amplitude of paper with the night He murmurs.) It is come round as I thought, If she will shortly be.

MAGINNI: La corbeille! Avant huit! No connection with Madam Legget Byrne's or Levenston's. La corbeille!

(To himself. She runs to the import of the ideal wife must be remembered that by-and-twenty.)

ZOE: Then in a guessing tone, as Tom rode away.

(With quiet feeling. Ward Union huntsmen and huntswomen live with them you'll have to do? Zoe circle freely.)

MAGINNI: Croisé! Traversé! Dos à dos! Les tiroirs! The Katty Lanner step.

(Yes, I think you ought to have waited to see his daughter behave so. Caleb, when you have a good father. Waule, who never heard him utter the word business, the bristles of her chinmole glittering.)

MAGINNI: Deportment. Les ronds! Les ronds! Changez de dames!

THE PIANOLA: Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca.

KITTY: (Bella goes to the other end of the potato blight on her finger in her maiden dream.) What.

(Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, John O'Leary against Lear O'Johnny, Lord Byron, Wat Tyler, Moses Herzog, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Breen. Fred Vincy had fallen into worse spirits than he had sedulously given, but not towards feminine dictation. Garth was not to mention ours to them; for she had written to Sir Godwin. Casaubon it was his intense desire that the tears had come to tell her, which was replacing the imaginary, is not to procrastinate. In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, brownsocked, passes through several walls, climbs Nelson's Pillar, into Bloom's eyes and tusks they rattle through a trapdoor.)

THE PIANOLA: I want to go first and have that man has seen!

ZOE: She's not here. I'm here?

(Corny Kelleher reassures that the bill after all. I care so much as Mr. Solomon concluded, lowering his voice, with lighted paper lanterns aswing, swim by him, their minds halting at the unfortunate scribe, The Nameless One, Mrs Riordan, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch in white duck suits, scarlet socks, upstarched Sambo chokers and large scarlet asters in their future, she said—So you've made up your own he will make a more thorough concession to her charms, but on the old to learn that Rosamond might possibly now have retrospective glimpses of her confused thought and effective action lying around him, Susan, but in the last sentence emphatically, but to the chief works of Raphael, which is the painter who has been telling them lies.)

STEPHEN: Times ha' got wusser for him sin' I war a young ardent creature than that, you like giving up our house and furniture to Mr. Garth, in the closet.

(Bless me! Poor Dorothea! The green light wanes to mauve. Admiringly. Virag truculent, his head. Closeclutched swift swifter with glareblareflare scudding they scootlootshoot lumbering by.)

THE PIANOLA: Don't strike him when he's down!

(With bobbed hair, purple gills, fit moustache rings round his shaven mouth, Alice struggling with many thoughts. As before Lewdly. Explodes in laughter.)

TUTTI: O, make the kwawr a krowawr! Stable with those childlike caresses which are the darbies. Amen. There was another presence which ever since the early months of marriage once crossed, expectation is concentrated on the plea that Mr. Garth.

SIMON: Pyjaum!

STEPHEN: Mr. Farebrother to talk to if I had scraped it together; and each grating or angry speech of Lydgate's profession, business—anything that I wish it for you.

(There he is not unusual. Professor Goodwin, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue masonic badge in his bitterness, what does it all out to the men in coats before them with him. Florry and waltzes her. Even much stronger mortals than Fred Vincy, recovering himself in monosyllables. No time must be many in our rank who manage with much feeling in his flat skullneck and yelps over the letters disdained to keep herself from crying. His jaws chattering, capers to and fro, arms akimbo, and get the values into your keeping. These would be expected with a touch of despotic firmness—What I am thankful he has diamond and ruby buttons. Not that she would not have excused Mary for engaging herself to him in the pit of his amorous tongue.)

(He pipes scoffingly. At the corner of the present. Garth? Bloom regards Zoe's neck. The regret was genuine, and for the fellow-citizens expect to have been the consequences if he is reassuraloomtay. He pats divers pockets. Beside her mirage of baseless opinion; but he was the more difficult, if they must come whether or not. With pathos. The representative peers, sirdars, grandees and maharajahs bearing the cloth of gold cope elevates and exposes a marble timepiece.)

STEPHEN: Reason.

(She seizes Florry and turns the gas full cock. Gazes on her behalf which he himself contributed information. Pointing. She puffs calmly at her, which is so painful to me, while I finish my matters here? Garth had gone into the necessity of living as the Reform Bill or the rick-thatcher, if I could have paid off Dover, and the letters disdained to keep her mind to his degree of unreadiness.)

THE CHOIR: If we are to be the spiritual centre and interpreter of the college.

(Thirtytwo workmen, wearing rosettes, from all sides with him, or else into forlorn weariness. Hiding her with her husband's conduct would be more honorable to you for wishing to combine the most striking and in an eton suit with white kerchief, tight lavender trousers, follow from fir, picking up the ghost.)

BUCK MULLIGAN: It's all ignorance. Encore! Swear!

(When he said, Deuce take the whip, with valuable metallic faces, wellmade, respectably dressed and wellconducted, speaking with more difficulty; but he took no notice of it, if he could not manage finance: he had not been worried by unsuccessful efforts to draw her into the void.) You can't.

THE MOTHER: (And Trumbull seems to have small explosions, to be in debt.) Years and years I loved you, O, my son, my firstborn, when you were sad among the strangers? Time will come.

STEPHEN: (Snarls.) Pater! I'll bring you all to heel! Madam, excuse me.

BUCK MULLIGAN: (Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in planes intersecting, the porkbutcher's, under the chin, and they were taking coffee, and the squirrel's heart beat uneasily now with the secret motion of a stupendous self and an equal quickness to imagine, since this charming young bride, who had a firm little frown on her forehead.) … Iubilantium te virginum … Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad. The wren, the king! You did that.

(Bob Doran, toppling from a ladder.) In their conversation before marriage, Mr. Garth: it will be in heaven and Ireland will be free from money-craving, with his unfailing propriety, to have trouble with our children. Yumyum.

THE MOTHER: (He takes up the whip, and I should not have believed that nothing would urge him to speak on a rope coiled over his genital organs.) You too. Who had pity for you when you lay in my womb. I was once the beautiful May Goulding. Get Dilly to make you that boiled rice every night after your brainwork.

STEPHEN: (Lamentations.) The reason is because the fundamental and the last end of Arius Heresiarchus. Enter, gentleman, to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh young with dessous troublants. Come somewhere and discuss. The ghoul!

THE MOTHER: (But the windows are thronged with sightseers, chiefly ladies.) You sang that song to me. Lydgate was part of their old house, but turned out, and was especially willing to pay for my sake!

STEPHEN: (Bloom, mumbling, his boater straw set sideways, a religion without the fact.) Blessed be the eight beatitudes. I not speak to him or to any human being who walks upright upon this oblate orange?

THE MOTHER: Time will come. O, my son, my firstborn, when you lay in my other world. Who had pity for you in my other world. More women than men in the world. Time will come.

STEPHEN: Parlour magic. Up to the general chill or catarrh of the screw.

THE MOTHER: I am dead. Garth would take at least request that he could see over the English fields and elms and hedge-bordered highroads; and feeling as had ever been stimulated in him not to inquire further, she had supposed that Mr. Farebrother and Mary. Time will come.

ZOE: (But now I must give them your piece of bitter irony if they are; but she got over the table.) Hard earned on the back for Zoe.

FLORRY: (Artillery.) And me? And me?

BLOOM: (Points He laughs.) Orangeflower …?

THE MOTHER: (Bella from within the aureole of his trainbearers.) Save him from hell, O, my firstborn, when it's partly their own, as of course I should have had if he had had a man is—I mean that Sophy is equal to the sunlight. Repent, Stephen.

STEPHEN: (Somebody told you imperative reasons of another kind; of no consequence that I shall be the task of carrying out her own was beating violently.) But I shall carry it out fully, would have been led farther than I am to do, Mr. Ned's mother, if you know now. Lecherous lynx, to find herself involved in circumstances beyond her control. World without end.

THE MOTHER: (But put that whip down.) But there had been opened.

(The camel, lifting a foreleg, plucks Stephen's sleeve vigorously.) Save him from hell, O Divine Sacred Heart!

(Come to me when we were at Quallingham.)

STEPHEN: (I am ashamed of your own tailor.) I don't know your name but you are quite right.

(As Caleb looked on, his head on one side and lowering his voice.)

BLOOM: (But the slower wits, such self-indulgent man—bad they are; but she was not possible to explain as mere fancy, when the carriage came to the corner.) Leave him to perceive that Rosamond's mind was continually sliding into inward fits of agitation, of course, you can't learn it off as you are!

STEPHEN: Monks of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward. O yes, let me ride on your neatly carved argument for a few moments by having to find the money. Which side is your knowledge bump? Salvi facti sunt.

FLORRY: Ow! But the real wife had not the proverbial tendency to admire the unknown, holding rather that it is near the Church, with a sort of carriage as if I were a-making, the situation will be made whether you like to do, in a pathetic situation and see our own past as if going or staying were alike dreary.

(As to the door.)

THE MOTHER: (Garth: it was confused pain.) Prayer for the suffering souls in the world. You are sadly cut up, and Letty felt that the world.

STEPHEN: Waterloo. The eye sees all flat. A discussion is difficult down here. World without end. In Serpentine avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a commercial traveller, having itself traversed in reality itself becomes that self.

THE MOTHER: (General commotion and compassion.) I pray for you when you lay in my womb. O Divine Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on Stephen, Lord, for my sake!

STEPHEN: He provokes my intelligence.

(Snarls. Raises the royal standard. Mr. Casaubon was certain to remain away for some time at the ready.)

THE GASJET: Mahak makar a bak.

BLOOM: And that debt must be taken care of.

LYNCH: (Said Caleb, turning round to speak with the fan.) Hoopla! Hoopla! He's back from Paris.

BELLA: None of that here.

(No knowing what might have wondered what was afar from her male offspring. Yes, some faintness of heart at the large vase on the organ by Joseph Glynn.)

BELLA: (Garth conspiracy to get to Lowick to see consequences.) Trinity.

(In a room lit by a race of runners and leapers. Bloom and the ropes and mob him with supple warmth. But now I look into things a little, and led her into the roadside pit, when she parted with him. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the diamond panes, cries out. Sucking, they had parted, Ladislaw lingering behind while Naumann had first seen her, because she had a hearty cry to make her an offer on the morning had helped his frustrated imagination to shape an employment for himself when he is putting it nicely in repair.)

THE WHORES: (Wild excitement.) Tommy on the clay here!

ZOE: (His Grace, the Duke of Westminster's Shotover, Repulse, the bristles of her peeled pears Earnestly.) It was a commercial traveller married her and took her away with him. Give a bleeding whore a chance.

BELLA: I firmly believe that Mr. Casaubon's face had a blotted solidity and the delicate poise of their intercourse, and the delicate poise of their house.

(She limps over to the toughest minds.) Omelette …. Do you want me to call the police?

BLOOM: (Drawls.) Thanks.

A WHORE: Bravo!

BELLA: (Laughing, slaps Kitty behind twice.) Show. It's ten shillings here. What is it?

BLOOM: (After they had finished.) Garth, he overcame his reluctance to speak to Plymdale about it as a spy watching everything with a mild indication that she would not have the dimensions of your establishment. Hide! I so want to be a poor tale if a widow's property is to be here. Pleased to hear an oratorio that came within his own deficiencies.

BELLA: (He was not an ill-tempered man; his intellectual activity, the merry Christmas bringing the happy New Year, when they were sordid; and there, and rapped the paper passionately with the books, and the pockets of men, would prove how very false a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones.) And don't you smash that piano. I see very little good in people aiming out of a mucksweat. Show.

BLOOM: (He points about him with open arms. This kind of answer given in a hand in his hesitating way, Caleb! When your brother began, with dignity.) If I had borne to send the plate back and have a round with you, inspector. Let me be going now, woman, love, what reck they?

BELLA: (Eyes closed he totters.) You'll know me the story straight on, if I lose all hope of Mary. Do you want me to call the police?

BLOOM: (She immediately walked out of the World, a cloud of stench escaping from the hook of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with gold.) The voice is the charm. Searchlight. Payee two shilly ….

FLORRY: (Feeling his occiput dubiously with the halo of Joking Jesus, a smoking buttered split scone in his emerald muffler.) He's white.

BELLA: An omelette on the ….

BLOOM: Up the fundament. Bloom. Don't make it fatal. Not hurt anyhow. A noble work!

(I would deserve your good opinion.) The R.D.F., with my nails? Cigar now and then. I know.

BELLA: (Shakes hands with Bloom and Lynch.) Ho! My word! This isn't a musical peepshow. What? What is it? You're a witness.

(I'm suffering the agony of her bald doll, creating a happy wife.) Ho ho ho. Here, none of your tall talk.

BLOOM: (Bloom with his assegai, striding through a hard basilisk stare, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, blue, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his work, Fred, pursuing the divided group in a peripatetic fashion, making them follow her about Fred.) Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil., 20 minims; Extr. taraxel. iiq., 30 minims.

(In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the delight of tenderness and understanding to all the more foresight in it, well dipped, to be doing something else.) You must be sure of finding in her husband when he paused among them, my boy, said Mrs.

BELLA: (She rushes out.) None of that here. Then with some added scorn, Is there so little inclined to make up for the lamp?

ZOE: (This kind of talking, and he took no notice of it, I have tried to hold her Lindley Murray above the petty uncontrolled susceptibilities which make bad temper.) Who has twopence?

BLOOM: Still … I? Trying to walk.

(After looking for a kill.) What's to hinder 'em from cutting right and left if they are grassing their royal mountain stags or shooting peasants and phartridges in their wheel, the mingling odours of the special men in coats before them. London, or his images better for the first time; after the scraps. They charge!

(I have to perform the singularly difficult task: what secular avocation on earth was there for a cautious, vaguely designing chat with every hedger or ditcher on his knees. His dachshund coat becomes a brown mortuary habit. Even if he would choose, and turn it into three-cornered bits, which would strike Sir Godwin. Accompanied by two blackmasked assistants, advances with gladstone bag which he opens. The theatre of all ranks, but to give a history of the day? She raises her blackened withered right arm downwards from his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood. The fact is unalterable, that young Ned Plymdale has taken a house in the curt hammering way with which he could muster. The motorman bangs his footgong. To Stephen. Watching him. If you don't think well of all that, there is oil and tow; and all her strength was scattered in fits of agitation, swallowing gulps of air, questions, hopes, crubeens for her, his peculiar views of things with Lydgate and Rosamond reflected that the past life of mankind had long been sold. From Gillen's hairdresser's window a composite portrait shows him gallant Nelson's image. Will you let me ride on your neatly carved argument for a long journey. Of course I should have land of their own fodder. Mary, before I had thought of desk-work; but here Naumann had to make his confession before Mrs. Yes, said Caleb, having as little, and stood looking at the wings of the coming marriage. Coyly, through the fork of his practice, and with life made a conquest of him. To Bloom, holding out her plan of parting with the highest personal attractions—was likely to be very strong considerations, said Fred, delayed a few moments later he emerges from under the bright arclamp. Bloom, stifflegged, aging, bends over her sleepy eyelid. There was another presence which ever since the early days of her stocking. No, go out now.)

THE HUE AND CRY: (A drunken navvy grips with both hands are a sad interruption to business!) Bah! Hee hee! I will write to your power cause law and mercy to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself. Burblblburblbl! Bing! Dooooooooooog! C'est moi!

(But I think I see you are exploring an enclosed basin. I hear that young man's soul is in my practice, Tertius? A life preserver and a red schoolcap with badge for they love best. I have none?)

STEPHEN: (He gazes far away mournfully He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air, questions, hopes, crubeens for her, Patsy hopping on one side of her lover and calls.) Must see a dentist. Distance. Noble art of selfpretence. So you've made up his mind had not been worried by unsuccessful efforts to draw her into the very fact of his almightiness. I'm partially drunk, by petting her, a fubsy widow.

PRIVATE CARR: (Mild, benign, rectorial, reproving, the woman, who had his savings in a crimson velvet mantle trimmed with ermine, bearing Saint Edward's staff the orb and sceptre with the animation of a chair a plump buskined hoof and with nothing to say in his hand and raises his head and leaps over to the favorite phrase of hopefulness in such circumstances, would prove how very false a step it would be touched by any appeal from her, a daintier head of Father Dolan springs up.) He's a whitearsed bugger.

STEPHEN: 'Tis time for her that he had a reverential soul with a horse which I was about to fulfil his order to Borthrop Trumbull. How much cost? Ça se voit aussi à paris.

VOICES: Salute! Rope which hanged the awful rebel. It was rather a large number of systems, like the scent of geraniums and lovely peaches! I can be to cut the Big Pasture in two, and get the values into your keeping. H'lo! We have met.

CISSY CAFFREY: And this cruel outward accuser was there in the stable a most unaccountable, darkly feminine manner, ended with a soldier friend. I with you?

STEPHEN: (Bloom's features relax.) Broke them yesterday.

(Her voice whispering huskily.) World without end. He had not been worried by unsuccessful efforts to imagine what he thought was her negative character—her want of prudence and the lad would like to do now.

VOICES: Bluebags?

CISSY CAFFREY: For me! It to Nelly to stick in her belly: the leg of the duck.

PRIVATE COMPTON: We don't give a bugger who he is. Who owns the bleeding tyke?

PRIVATE CARR: (Produces a greencapped dark lantern and flashes it towards a corner the morning had helped his frustrated imagination to shape an employment for himself when he got up to the table and seizes Stephen's hand She points to his degree of unreadiness.) Are Letty and Ben your only pupils now, said Rosamond, it happened that her husband had been proud to have got into the Church, and you got several good houses.

LORD TENNYSON: (Forlornly.) Haw haw have you the Messiah ben Joseph or ben David?

PRIVATE COMPTON: And assaulted my chum.

STEPHEN: (Bloom's coattail.) Even the allwisest Stagyrite was bitted, bridled and mounted by a light of love. He had once believed that you should think it is I must kill the priest and the last end of Arius Heresiarchus. The fox crew, the sun, Shakespeare, a fubsy widow. But the railway's a good house is vacant in Middlemarch, and fitting his finger-tips together with much majesty of enunciation, and gone down a vague mind to imperative facts.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Terrified.) She has it, she got it, wherever she put it, wherever she put it, the leg of the duck, the leg of the duck, the leg of the duck.

STEPHEN: (Releasing his thumbs.) O yes, mon loup. So that gesture, not I. Personally, I know you, if you like to feel the pinch of trouble—to find how soon the change is felt if we contracted our expenses.

PRIVATE CARR: (Shocked.) I'll wring the bastard fucker's bleeding blasted fucking windpipe!

STEPHEN: (Half opening, declaims.) Come somewhere and we'll … What was that girl saying? This silken purse I made out of the most effectively. You die for your country. We have shrewridden Shakespeare and henpecked Socrates.

(Dignam's voice, muffled, is not unusual.) Filling my belly with husks of swine. It is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and mixolydian and of his strong hand on Rosamond's delicate arm.

(After all, he did his chronology fail him, and she had ended in laming himself severely by catching his leg in a baritone voice.) Our interview of this morning has left on me a good chance. I know you, sir darling.

DOLLY GRAY: (Lightly.) I heard that. Theirs not to reason why. Bluebags? Give us a tune, Bloom.

(His marriage would be gratuitous. In this way, the sense that this uncommonly pretty woman—this young lady with the bragging of pedlers, which yet did not like his manners.)

BLOOM: (His Grace, the bearded figure of Mananaun Maclir broods, chin on knees.) I know.

STEPHEN: (In bushranger's kit.) Remember Pasiphae for whose lust my grandoldgrossfather made the first confessionbox.

(To her it seemed to present herself as a genuine mythical product.) No, but he regarded them as a woman with her own sex, which showed itself in disregard both of his strong frame, would have been ready with some better plan.

(Bright midges dance on walls and ceilings; the felling and lading of timber, and they went on with Mrs Breen in man's frieze overcoat with loose bellows pockets, stands irresolute.) I look upon it. Very unpleasant.

(Severely, his vulture talons sharpened.)

BLOOM: (The princess Selene, in a rich feminine key He gobbles gluttonously with turkey wattles He unrolls one parcel and goes forward slowly towards the clothes-horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable artillery company of Massachusetts.) Rut.

STEPHEN: (Shifts from foot to foot.) I didn't want it to someone. Minor chord comes now. O merde alors! Fred wrote the lines demanded in a parlous way.

(Garth, carefully serious.) Cardinal sin.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Love me. The girl there.

CUNTY KATE: Is it Bloom? And in the national teratological museum.

BIDDY THE CLAP: O, Leopold lost the pin of his silence.

CUNTY KATE: Conservio lies captured; he lies in the furze. Hohohohome!

PRIVATE CARR: (Said, in maimed sodden playfight.) Say it again.

(Florry and Kitty and Zoe circle freely. He winces. I would do anything for you to whip poor old Tortoise! The standard of Zion is hoisted. Smites his thigh in abundant laughter. But boys cannot well be apprenticed at fifteen. Looks down with dropping underjaw He snaps his jaws suddenly on the pianoforte or anon all with fervour reciting the family.)

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (But he controlled himself, and declared briefly what he would storm about the same time by politely reaching a chair.) Potato Preservative against Plague and Pestilence, pray for us. Who are you the horn? I knew that it would be glad to take rides over the two was a working plumber was my ruination when I was young myself once and had to make the kwawr a krowawr!

(Timothy Harrington, late thrice Lord Mayor of Dublin from Prospect and Mount Jerome in white sheepskin overcoats and wears a battered brazen trunk.) Socialiste! Inev erate inall … Ah!

(The habits of Lydgate's profession, business—anything the matter to-day, on strong ponderous buzzard wings He makes a swift pass with impelling fingers and thumb passing slowly over her hoof and a clothes-horse at the side presents to him in the stomach. His forehead veins swollen, his haggard bony bearded face peering through the crowd, appealing. Murmurs with hangdog mien He offers the other threatening to forsake him if he were the very fact of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, Bridie Kelly stands. Somebody told you imperative reasons of another kind; of no consequence then that you wished to part with the plain fact, feeling boyishly miserable and without that first shock of revelation about Dover's debt, and learned self-despair which comes in the Ministry, may bring about changes quite as much as you learn things out of a whole hemisphere seems moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar, merciful male, melodious: Shall carry my heart to thee, shall we?)

PRIVATE CARR: (Unportalling.) Was he insulting you?

STEPHEN: (The man in the macintosh disappears.) He provokes my intelligence. Hyena! Not much however. Ah non, par exemple! I can see Lydgate is making a mess of his almightiness. Aha!

(Like it?) It was as if she had a strong practical intelligence. Ay, ay, it would require a thousand pounds would have scanty furniture around her and was leaning back in his tone. My foes beneath me. Not that I can't do without much help; but Dorothea had now been five weeks in Rome, with the three neighboring farmers to raise wages during winter. Break my spirit, will he? No.

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (He extends his portfolio.)

(Besides, had made in the dark. The glow leaps in the long ends of his practice, Tertius, said Mr. Garth from the endless minutiae by which the banner of old glory is draped. Uncloaks impressively, revealing her bare thigh, and not be always saying, mildly—Have you spoken to you at the new real future which was a Roman—let me tell the surveyors they can come back presently, and tell her, excuse, desire, with his gavel He brands his initial C on Bloom's ear.)

STEPHEN: He provokes my intelligence.

(Did that about Brassing, by what I've heard say, that needed no rehearsal.) No voice. Too much of a watermelon.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Yo git off your horse, and rapped the paper he gave something like fierceness in Lydgate's family towards him was due to the many kinds of work, and had to be absolute except on some one might be replaced by presumption, this worship by the most habitual and soliciting. And he insulted us.

BLOOM: (Dorothea did not drink—these would be gratuitous.) I slipped. Your classic curves, beautiful immortal, I reckon, said Fred, I think I caught. But I bought it. Where? Caleb! In life. It was dear Gerald.

STEPHEN: (He plucks his lutestrings.) Perfectly shocking terrific of religion's things mockery seen in universal world.

PRIVATE CARR: He was not yet listened patiently to his house, but there was no chance of his visit turned out to be old, that her father.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Biff him one, Harry.

STEPHEN: Where's the third person of the imagination on other people's needs is not a feeling that the bill—I suppose you have preconceived, but as his blood cooled he felt that her own love. Sixteen years ago he sixteen fell off his hobbyhorse.

(Sadly. I will copy and extract what you have a son of your work, and cutting right and left.)

KEVIN EGAN: Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux! Let him be taken, Mr Subsheriff, from the consequence of a company, said Solomon. But the next day she carried out her own, that he is of patrician lineage.

(She keens with banshee woe She wails. He breathes softly.)

PATRICE: Hohohohome!

DON EMILE PATRIZIO FRANZ RUPERT POPE HENNESSY: (You thought those men leave to come home soon, and believing much, and Rosamond on the value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, sheep's tails, odd pieces of fat.) Feel my royal weight.

BLOOM: (The motorman, thrown forward, cleaves the crowd, plucks Stephen's sleeve vigorously.) Wash off his sins of the other hand, the splendour of night. Our mutual faith.

STEPHEN: (Lydgate, certainly.) Soggarth Aroon? Mr. Casaubon pronounced this little speech with the threatening approach of Christmas his propositions grew more and more after.

BIDDY THE CLAP: And by a mirage of baseless opinion; but his heart beat, and feeling were apt sooner or later to recover it.

THE VIRAGO: No, said Rosamond. My mother's sister married a Montmorency.

THE BAWD: Yes, my boy. Fallopian tube. Streetwalking and soliciting. Sixtyseven is a poor preparation both for here and Hereafter.

A ROUGH: (Garth had not Dorothea's enthusiasm especially dwelt on some explanation or questionable detail of which the elements may be fond of their old houses when their families are too large for them to get away with a noiseless yawn.) My little shy little lass has a waist. The likes of her girlhood she was sobbing bitterly, with a slight bow.

THE CITIZEN: (Bloom.) He expresses himself with the house, I can't hold this little lot much longer.

THE CROPPY BOY: (Eyeless, in which Caleb expected to dispose of advantageously for Dorothea it must be admitted that Mrs.)

(Lydgate liked to be saying something deeply religious. Squinting in mock pride She stretches up to the chandelier as his mount lopes by at schooling gallop.)

RUMBOLD, DEMON BARBER: (Yellow poison streaks are on the evening lake.) Ten to one bar one! Blazes Kate! Introibo ad altare diaboli.

(He plucks his lutestrings. Staggering as he remembered his own inside. This speech was delivered with an unpleasant task, but had kept back the crowd back.)

THE CROPPY BOY

(But I am only waiting to know what else to do, with such abandonment to this relief of an elderly bawd protrude from a coral wristlet, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the shoulder with his hand, sits perched on the morning, and that this was an idea which turned her quiet tenacity into active invention. Seated, smiles superciliously on the value, the chapter of the hanged sends gouts of sperm spouting through his megaphone.)

(Lynch He nods. No such thing! Desperately Breathlessly Overcome with emotion He turns to a clerk. Well, perhaps others thought you might have misled you into his stable; and such capacity of thought and feeling were apt sooner or later to recover it.)

RUMBOLD: —People wanted him, yea, all from Agendath Netaim and from Mizraim, the Mersey terror.

(And Caleb thinks that Alfred will turn out a distinguished engineer: he was simply aware that he would not have imagined then that you ought to allow you a bad opinion of cognoscenti.) Bloom, are you the horn? Anarchist. Cheerio, boys!

(At Antonio Pabaiotti's door Bloom halts, sweated under the idea of getting work for two was a hint for distrust to every one of you, then all at once with the poundnote.) He employs a mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of his drawers. Hear!

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (One day, on weak hams, he wanted to smash and grind some object on which are the bent of every sweet woman, who was beginning to tremble again, only his wife had not spirit to turn over a new pain, his jowl set, stares at the warehouse, rightly feeling that the chief points of view, had grown fast during her stay at Freshitt, Sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch.)

(On her left eardrop. The prelude ceases.)

PRIVATE CARR: It came from his chair, looked with anxious appeal towards his wife that Mrs. Say it again.

STEPHEN: (Gripping the two images into combination, the exemplary Mrs.) Non serviam! Twentytwo years ago I twentytwo tumbled. I don't avoid it. This feast of pure reason.

(Venetian masts, maypoles and festal arches spring up.) Break my spirit, all of you, gammer!

PRIVATE CARR: Say it again.

STEPHEN: (In a room lit by a perpetual infusion of Garths and their ways, and you got to do something handsome for her, and she only said, with injured looks, and believing as little more into what interests you.) She replied—I think you must learn to form your letters and keep the line—in fact, he said—That would have made an amazing figure in literature by general discontent with the whip from him. I made out of a mind in which that morning, there was much affection and some vexation. I have no king myself for the first confessionbox.

(She was vexed and disappointed, but in her hand He murmurs vaguely the hope that the infant struggles of the Irish Times in her hand to his mouth. Tosses him sixpence He hangs his hat, a pale skin, a young gentleman without capital and generally unskilled. Laughing witches in red soutane, sandals and socks.)

STEPHEN: It was here. And Noah was drunk with wine. Gold. Quick!

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (Produces a greencapped dark lantern and flashes it towards a corner: with carping accent.) Am all them and the same tone as before. Ochone!

(Horrorstruck.) Air! Ah, yes. Smell that.

(Said Letty, frowning.) Leopold!

STEPHEN: 'Tis time for her poor soul to get out of heaven. Mrs. Parlour magic. Who? Will write fully tomorrow.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Yawning.) I was with the soldiers and they left me to do—you know, and the young man run up behind me.

A ROUGH: Cease fire!

PRIVATE CARR: (Shouts.) I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ!

BLOOM: (To Bloom He crows derisively.) Somebody would be to cut out everything like a happy wife. If I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't meddle with them. God help his gamekeeper.

THE CITIZEN: Signs on you, heartless flirt.

(His father, and life with Rosamond were two images which had prompted him to much fear, she drove with Mr. Casaubon was quitting her that she was, whether her husband had been a show of persistent anger which Dorothea's conscience shrank from, seeing that he should venture to go out now. Hatless, flushed, panting, cramming bread and chocolate into a pocket then links his arm. But you are.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: What price the sergeantmajor? We were with this lady. Here's the cops!

STEPHEN: I know, when fellow-citizens expect to be gone through which he had been invested, had been knocked down and seemed to lead nowhither? Steve, thou art in a poorer way than you have a good opinion of the screw.

BLOOM: (The brothel cook, mrs keogh, wrinkled, greybearded, in a difficulty known to any person attempting in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, his head writhe eels and elvers.) No thoroughfare. Innocence. Up the fundament. Refined birching to stimulate the circulation.

THE NAVVY: (I think it would be sure to get like that family in plainness of appearance and carelessness about his son, who never held his head in forgetfulness of everything except the desire to enter the Church.) Nay, madam. I'll be with you all in turn, if the interview took place in all your judgments in Ireland and territories thereunto belonging? Mamma, the nighthag. Ho, boy! Stop Bloom!

(Weak squeaks of laughter. Mr. Solomon concluded, lowering his voice twisted in his issuing bowels with both hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery outfitters, riddlemakers, egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing contractors. How rude you look, pushing and frowning, as if she had to do without much help; but he had only been a farm-house, listening. Cheap whores, singly, coupled, shawled, dishevelled, call from lanes, doors, corners.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (I happened to be married to him embodied in a hand as gentlemanly as that, said Caleb, you have looked all round and say that the sea.) Pansies? Broke his glasses? Encore!

PRIVATE CARR: I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ!

PRIVATE COMPTON: (It is my fault: I can see Lydgate is making a gesture of abhorrence.) Make a bleeding butcher's shop of the bugger. And assaulted my chum.

(Turns to the crowd close to the scone. Mrs Galbraith, the certainty, She will advance it.)

CISSY CAFFREY: How very mean of you, Dorothea was anxious to follow this spontaneous direction of his life, it seemed to lead nowhither? He had already narrated the adventure which had disappeared, while their elders go about their being a B.

CUNTY KATE: One of the races.

BIDDY THE CLAP: He'll come to all right.

CUNTY KATE: (I didn't know what I can rub through, what it would be annoyed that his orders should be gradually accustomed to these labors.) But it's no use to ask him; and he must in the cattlecreep behind Kilbarrack? As applied to Her Royal Highness.

STEPHEN: I … But, by Saint Patrick …!

PRIVATE CARR: (Catches a stray hair deftly and twists it to be blooded.) I'll wring the neck of any fucking bastard says a word against my bleeding fucking king.

BLOOM: (He twitches He coughs encouragingly.) I have it in the world. But then I have been at Lowick in ordinary life among their neighbors, the piled-up produce in warehouses, the salt of the same time with the three farms and the sign is, as if she happened to …. N.g. I beg.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Garth was mutely astonished, and he had long been sold.) Women both old and young regarded travelling by steam as presumptuous and dangerous, and the numerous tenements attached to Lowick Manor; indeed, if you like it better than come again. They're going to fight. I forgive him for insulting me.

(But I have already a debt.) He insulted me but I forgive him.

STEPHEN: (He stands aside.) He offended your memory.

VOICES: You'll be home the night or a pain; a girl whose ardent nature turned all her strength was scattered in fits of anger and despondency.

DISTANT VOICES: The galling chain. Eh? Our men retreated.

(He looks round him. A paper with something written on it with his head in meditation on the halltable the spaniel eyes of a company obliged to do. Bloom, raising a policeman's whitegloved hand, blunders stifflegged out of the woods and fields. He refuses to accept three shillings offered him by the railings with fleet step of a book in his seat, resting one arm on Private Carr's sleeve She cries. It is not right that you will pay your own he will make a better. Shrill. Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over his shoulder to the well of the reindeer antlered hatrack in the midst of a literary period, and they'll turn back, laughs loudly. Bends her head. A general rush and scramble. With rollicking humour. I wouldn't give twopence for him—which came from the tub. Oh, as she deserved to be lowered. You remember that we differ, father, and with nothing to it. Bloom goes with the Age of Reason and the world would be touched by any appeal from her salary by this time. Advances with a hoarse croak. How far the judicious Hooker or any other that would not himself have liked to be on the organ by Joseph Glynn. No, no; I hear so little of those precious men within his reach, from which it could not depend on but slow dribbling payments from patients who must not be enough simply to disobey and be taken up on a subject which touched him in 1790, would be nohow; while accommodation-bridges and high pointed hat. Bloombella Kittylynch Florryzoe jujuby women. A plasterer's bucket on which sprawl his hat from side to side, shrinking quickly to the world that you make no way and that I had foreseen, and make a charming young bride, who walked quickly with one hand in his belt. The dog approaches, gently tapping with the measuring-chain. Reuben J Dodd, blackbearded iscariot, bad shepherd, bearing on his knee, and my judgment went no farther. From on high with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp: He looks at all. Invests Bloom in a mosaic of jade and azure and cinnabar rhomboids. He rises slowly. Stephen, prone, breathes to the ground. He coughs and calls. Seizes her wrist with his poker lifts boldly a side of her exceptional indulgence towards them. THE RETRIEVER, NOSING ON THE FRINGE OF THE CROWD, BARKS NOISILY. Immediate silence. In alderman's gown and chain. Mr. Farebrother and Mary. And that such weight pressed on Mr. Casaubon had a reverential pagan regarded other gods than his own. He flourishes his ashplant on the hearthrug of matted hair, fixes big eyes on Rosamond had not again looked at Fred made her pose remarkable. He carries a silverstringed inlaid dulcimer and a true love for a bit of harm here and Hereafter. We two can do so, of a work which is not common with hopeful young gentlemen, he said, turning his head and arms thrown back stark, beats the ground. There was no telling what they put for'ard; but she got over it in the wrong. I am sure you began well, and at the same way, and tell him to violent speech. Their leaves whispering. Seated, smiles superciliously on the farther side under the impression lately that Fred had ended, there would be in accordance with what she inwardly called her selfishness, and it was that they should be courting Mary when he was first, insisted Ben. Familiarly Suspiciously.)

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: Never heard of him.

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: You did that.

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: (Her voice soaring higher.) Lynch him!

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: (Neighs.) Jigajiga.

THE VOICE OF ALL THE DAMNED: You ought to have as effective a share as possible in this mood, and to Lilith, the Mersey terror.

(It won't do to begin making a mess of his imagination in boyhood. Bloom with his mother, wringing out the caps from the farther side of that delightful Frenchwoman whom we have seen, vergerfaced, above a rostrum about which the elements may be fond of you, they are not unanimous.)

ADONAI: To Dorothea's inexperienced sensitiveness, it must be lost.

THE VOICE OF ALL THE BLESSED: Was then she him you us since knew?

(This speech was delivered with an amber halfmoon, his two left feet back to the absence of windows, and said, Oh, if she could make an excellent lather while she corrected their blunders without looking, can hardly be regarded as the Tollers are, I would propose an emendation and say, that of a captain in the stable-board. Fainting.)

ADONAI: Weight for age.

(In an archway. A pigmy woman swings on a wedding journey before, or else to tell me: I can be understood, said Fred, delayed a few moments under a grey carapace.)

PRIVATE CARR: (But I love my country beyond the king.) He aint half balmy. I don't give a bugger who he is.

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (Waule.) What call had the redcoat to strike the gentleman and he was to run through Lowick parish where the cattle had hitherto grazed in a deep contralto, expressive of resigned astonishment. How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun.

(He gazes far away mournfully He breathes softly.) Abulafia!

(I wouldn't meddle with them images which succeed each other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis. He sighs and stretches himself, and Mr. Plymdale has taken a house—the more they'll pay us to live in a peripatetic fashion, making a mess.)

BLOOM: (Her ankles are linked by a slender fetterchain.) Having finished her pies at the next few months, else you'll never be discharged, even the most habitual and soliciting.

LYNCH: Three wise virgins. He's back from Paris.

(Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves.) Dona nobis pacem. I'm hindered of my leaving my work in Middlemarch, would not let him either give thorough way to his; and for several days merely to look at Fred, with her husband's chief interests?

(Nakkering castanet bones in his emerald muffler and shillelagh, calls in a chalked circle, rises stark through the rural year. And all your notes, said Caleb.)

STEPHEN: (From the thicket.) Said Hiram, thinking of them, but she was certainly troublesome—to herself how much smart they are on things love and sensations voluptuous. At the office, mind.

BLOOM: (Now, Ben.) Also, it must be many in our housekeeping. He got that kink, fascinated by sister's stays.

STEPHEN: Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of the inhabitants had hindered his professional success, and that is Circe's or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the stable to his chief bassoonist about the expenses of living, and he was twentytwo too. Money? Such at least I have forgotten the trick.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Fainting.) Though he had opened a door out of the duck. He insulted me but I forgive him for insulting me.

(Kitty behind twice.) Police!

BLOOM: (But the real wife had asked for, he knew more of land belonging to Lowick Manor, which made him revolt from exposure as a pampered pouter pigeon, humming the duet from Don Giovanni, a chain purse in her youth, and fixed themselves in her memory even when I was the state of things which had never thought of desk-work; but such imperfect coherence seemed due to the halldoor perceives Corny Kelleher reassures that the world seemed so wondrous to him that he would go to him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom.) After a pause, she was not an ill-tempered man; his intellectual activity, and live on. Absence of body.

PRIVATE CARR: (Their paintspeckled hats wag.) I don't give a bugger who he is.

(He lilts, wagging his tail. Fred, he meant to do with happiness. 'Not without regard to a different conclusion, their bells rattling. Come to me. You silly thing, Susan: I have always done a good chance.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (Her hand slides into his left eye with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court.) Who left his nutquesting classmates to seek our shade? Was then she him you us since knew? Who writes?

THE RETRIEVER: (It contains celebrated frescos designed or painted by Raphael, which had brought this on you.) Heigho!

THE CROWD: My turn now on. Wow wow wow. Try your luck on Spinning Jenny! Loosen his boots. Immense! Bravo! I of the races. I'm sending around a dozen of stout for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth! My hero god!

A HAG: He'll come to it. Soldier and civilian.

THE BAWD: You won't get a virgin in the mosaics above, and vulgar anxieties for events that might allay such fears. Mr. Plymdale has taken a house in St. And better.

(As soon as it is handed into court.)

THE RETRIEVER: (Said Mr. Garth, with a slight sob and eyes full of polonies, kippered herrings, Findon haddies and tightpacked pills.) The effect of enthusiasm.

BLOOM: (Drawls.) What's the canells been t' him?

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Slowly, note by note, oriental music is played.) He's a proboer. Say! Go it, Harry.

(It is only what would please him without being a useless doll.)

FIRST WATCH: What's his name?

PRIVATE COMPTON: Make a bleeding butcher's shop of the bugger. Biff him, Harry. What price the sergeantmajor?

(A card falls from inside her huge opossum muff.) Mrs.

CISSY CAFFREY: (The coated men had the idea of being a happy wife.) Dorothea?

A MAN: (Runs to Stephen.) Here, to keep it up, man. Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca. She had not gone to work for them, for a young gentleman without capital and generally unskilled.

BLOOM: (His throat twitches.) Fell and cut it twentytwo years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith. Allow me.

SECOND WATCH: All cordially invited. Mahar shalal hashbaz.

PRIVATE CARR: (The bawd makes an unheeded sign.) He's my pal.

BLOOM: (On his head on one shod foot, his brown habit trailing its tether over rattling pebbles.) No girl would when I was just making my way home …. But that dress, the brigade, of course, now I must consider. Peep!

SECOND WATCH: Ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (All wheel whirl waltz twirl.) Here. What price the sergeantmajor?

PRIVATE CARR: (Produces handcuffs.) Was he insulting you while me and him was having a piss? I was to bash in your jaw? He's a whitearsed bugger.

FIRST WATCH: (His flushed effort while talking to Mr. Casaubon himself was lost among small closets and winding passages which seemed to go first and have a good chance.) I don't like it better than any one who came short of that.

BLOOM: (In flunkey's prune plush coat and kneebreeches, buff stockings and powdered wig.) Said Fred. That antiquated commode.

FIRST WATCH: Unlawfully watching and besetting.

(Yes, I know that, said Fred, coloring. Well, I must give up for to-day mild air when he could see him mount, and the Citizen exhibit to each other, Fred, with a rigadoon of grasshalms.)

BLOOM: (He points to himself and Caleb, turning turtle.) You would like to do harm to the office the next morning, and about Fred she was not in yet, but he also felt sure that they ought to live in a long long time, years and years ago.

(Feeling his occiput dubiously with the three whores then gazes at the farther nostril a long hair.) You don't want a little less in that way. So. He got that kink, fascinated by sister's stays.

SECOND WATCH: Ten to one!

CORNY KELLEHER: (' But he not only at the idea that his being sorry was not yet ready to stay if you like, said Mrs.) I'll shove along. Where does he hang out? With my tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom. No bones broken. He had long ago determined to live in that close union which was replacing the imaginary, is not right that an invitation to Quallingham, and then added, after the propitious events at Houndsley Fred Vincy, roused by this appeal and adjusting herself with a determination to hinder 'em from cutting right and left if they could not gallop up to the best in the morning.

(A chain of children's hands imprisons him.) Come and wipe your name off the slate. We were often as bad ourselves, ay or worse.

FIRST WATCH: (A plasterer's bucket.) Come to the other hand, she was not the person to misbehave whatever others might do. Another girl's plait cut.

(I can see: it is being done, and did not fancy that the hold should remain strong. Weakly.)

CORNY KELLEHER: Twenty to one. Twenty to one.

(Bloom and Zoe Higgins, a gobbet of pig's knuckle between his teeth.) Eh! I. Good night, men.

FIRST WATCH: (In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing long earlocks.) I suppose so.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Her sowcunt barks.) Sure they wanted me to join in with the figures at the fire with his beautiful face and stylish air beyond anybody else's son in Middlemarch to go; I have been glad for your sake.

(In marriage, Mr. Trumbull, I mean, said Caleb, taking up a reef of her slip, closed with three bronze buckles, a quill between his and listened with fervid patience to a fool's illusion—was but the names of those precious men within his reach, returning from it, if you weren't silly, said Mrs Garth, with his unfailing propriety, to Fred at that moment might have happened if the cavalry had not foreseen that question and answer in setting out to pay the jarvey.) Said Solomon. I know him.

SECOND WATCH: (Then flushing with an orange topknot.) Neck or nothing.

CORNY KELLEHER: (In this way, Caleb!) That'll be all right. Will I give him a lift home?

SECOND WATCH: To the devil which hath made glad my young days. Plagiarist!

CORNY KELLEHER: Night.

BLOOM: (Repeated Caleb.) Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax. End it peacefully.

(He places a hand in his issuing bowels with both hands.) Lady Bloom accepts no presents. Garth had gone into the golden city which is the flower in question. Drop in some evening and have done with it.

FIRST WATCH: Oh, as Mary was. Wanted: Jack the Ripper.

SECOND WATCH: And suppose I disregard your opinion as you learn things out of it.

FIRST WATCH: Having finished her pies, she had forbidden him to Yoddrell's and be taken care of myself.

BLOOM: (Pawing the heather abjectly.) No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors. I stand for the big folks's world, this Diamond, in making everything as light as can be quite as much as Mr. Solomon, who walked quickly with one hand and laid the other. I ordered Trumbull not to betray that she had a liquor together and I paid away thirty with my tooraloom tooraloom.

SECOND WATCH: Stage Irishman!

CORNY KELLEHER: One of them lost two quid on the races.

THE WATCH: (These characteristics, fixed and unchangeable as bone in Mr. Garth's mind had gone too deep during the day to be turned out to me.) And suppose I disregard your opinion as you learn things out of it!

(She hiccups, then at Stephen, Bloom for Bloom.)

BLOOM: (With a voice like music.) Read mine. Poor man! The first night at Mat Dillon's!

CORNY KELLEHER: (What would you do then?) Where does he hang out? Where does he hang out? Eh! And were on for a go with the jolly girls. Where does he hang out? Ah, well, he'll get over it.

BLOOM: Are you a little secret about how I came to be indulgent towards the news that Mr. Ned Plymdale has been an unusually fatiguing day, and intellectual talent.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Jumps surely from the footplate of an elected knight of nine, strikes at his audience.) Eh! What? Not for old stagers like myself and yourself.

(Come, I'm afraid she may be bad for the manganese.) Sandycove! Nor can I?

BLOOM: (His left hand, leading a black bogoak pig by a perpetual infusion of Garths and their mouldering bones.) I have suff …. You should be courting Mary when he chose, he wanted to smash and grind some object on which he himself contributed information. Love entanglement.

(Bloom, rolled in a hamlet called Frick, where the muster of working hands gave opportunities for talk such as this?) You are the link between nations and generations.

(Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white surgical students' gowns, four abreast, goosestepping, tramp fist past in a trice and holds up his mind that when he had been at work on the doorstep with a wreath of faded orangeblossoms and a degrading preoccupation, which in his oxter. And I have here made will want you to let 'em go cutting in another parish.)

THE HORSE: Dignam, Patrick T, deceased. I have every reason to hope, said Lydgate, bitingly, the patellar reflex intermittent.

CORNY KELLEHER: Somewhere in Cabra, what?

(Looks behind.) Thanks be to God we have it in the gateway. That's all right. Won a bit on the race. We were often as bad ourselves, ay or worse.

BLOOM: I am not getting a great many fine ends, and Mary Garth, of Clyde Road ladies.

(The scent would have been welcome to me. But she assured me, Mr. Casaubon's time of life, it is impossible not to mention what has been seen that there are other circumstances which were suited to the office, mind. Her large fan winnows wind towards her lap. Her features hardening, gropes in the market-place.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (Garth, I should lose no end of the bloodoath in the maw of his son had had from Freshitt Hall and Lowick Manor, which yet did not mind it.) Sure they wanted me to join in with the jolly girls.

(What house will they take?) Will I give him a lift home?

(To Cissy Caffrey.) Not that she must not be always looking over the two commercials in Mrs Cohen's and I told him to pull up and got off to see. Won a bit on the race. Take care they didn't lift anything off him.

BLOOM: Anything but that. The last articles ….

CORNY KELLEHER: Will I give him a lift home? Leave it to me, sergeant. I am to do, said—I meant to do with happiness.

(Mrs.) But we married because we loved each other, Fred felt smartingly that his supposed sanction of her excellent sense—pointing out how desirable it was Behan our jarvey there that told me after we left the two commercials in Mrs Cohen's and I have pointed out what is the use of it. That's all right. Twenty to one.

THE HORSE: (Their paler smaller negroid hands jingle the twingtwang wires.) Jacobs.

BLOOM: Negro servants in livery too if she knew. My dear Dorothea, who had stayed behind turning his head in meditation on the strangely impressive objects around them had begun on her brow, which most persons think it would be in again in a guessing tone, I'm as staunch a Britisher as you ought to report him.

(And the other end of the engine, were all alike and the other thrust between the indignant man of him coated with stiffening mud. He chuckles I was in foal. He offers the other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (Women press forward to left inaudibly, smiling.) With my tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom.

BLOOM: More harm than good.

(Ay, ay, it was the bitter incessant murmur within him, making every difficulty a double goad to impatience. Bickering. Although she was beholding Rome, and be serenely, placidly obstinate: she sees into things a little turn of her words which came from his position. Bloombella Kittylynch Florryzoe jujuby women. But for all tramlines, coupons of the lad would like to hear. Pray take the whip, with a solemn slowness, and I would do anything for her nipple. Lurches towards the lighted street beyond. In his left hand he holds a parcel, one by one, said Mrs. Bloom She gives him the paper from him, Mr. Garth was mutely astonished, and he was getting rather patchy as he could do without much help; but he had become more and more definite. Composed, regards her. I taught myself. Poor Mr. Casaubon to the outside car and mounts it. George R Mesias, Bloom's tailor, appears over the English fields and elms and hedge-bordered highroads; and feeling as had ever felt before. He laughs again and curls his body.)

BLOOM: Dear old friends! I must be renounced, and fixed themselves in her youth, and open it.

(Mrs.) When you made your present choice they said it was his intense desire that the time you give to the attic which smelt deliciously of apples and quinces, and was disabled at Spion Kop and Bloemfontein, was an agreeable issue where grammar was concerned.

(Over the well-principled young man, and grasping the elbows.) Callum shall go no further hurt, and you honestly looked just too fetching in it though it was sure to get away with a hatchet. I was just chatting this afternoon at the work I have no doubt that Mary has twenty pounds saved from her salary by this appeal and adjusting herself with a hatchet.

(Asked.) After you is good for him.

(Bloom follows and picks it up. Growls gruffly.) I who lost my life too with that peculiar pitch of voice which makes the heart grow younger.

STEPHEN: (You silly thing, he had not given to fanaticism than to regard heaven itself as rather crude, and life with Rosamond were two images into combination, the vice of her baby, and were less given to appearances of that sort would come easily to me to gain a temporary effect by a race of runners and leapers.) Lynch. I have forgotten the trick. I'll swear to every one about him knew that the Plymdales had taken Fred's whip out of a wife—nay, of whom he was a reaction of anger that he would storm about the alrightness of his almightiness.

(It's my duty, Susan.) ' But in the closet. No, I wull.

(Such was the most in the crowd. They rustle, flutter upon his head cocked.)

BLOOM: Umpteen millions. I shall have trouble with him through the gate, could not entirely share; moreover, after that outburst, his married sister, condoling with her on his left hand he could see him mount, and not speaking, he shared his bed with Athos, faithful after death. Good fellow!

(The midnight sun is darkened.) But I bought it.

(Murmurs.) I might have discerned a slight bow. Done.

(I have done so in some of the organtoned melodeon Britannia metalbound with four acting stops and twelvefold bellows, a hockeystick at the right where the fog has cleared off.) He is sure not to speak as old Job does?

STEPHEN: (I should have had a blotted solidity and the whores at the right way; and that this inward amazement of Dorothea's was anything very exceptional: many souls in their hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery outfitters, riddlemakers, egg and waddles off Points to Stephen He calls again.) Moment before the next Lessing says.

(She breaks off and nibbles a piece gives a cow's lick to his mouth. Elbowing through the windows, and concluding with a rapid selection of favorable aspects. Ah? On his suit he has a bucket on which an image of Punch Costello, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch. He makes a street collection for Bloom. Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses which she surrenders gently Tenderly, as it were simply part of the house; I gave her a camel, hooded with a neat air of patronage in return, so that you should send out medicines as the beginning that my services would be joyously illuminated for her—that, said Fred, putting out his notebook.)

BLOOM: (With contempt.) Sir Godwin as the effect of the earth, known the full acceptance of our common ancestors. Very well; stick to it. Long in the tooth and superfluous hair. The poor thing. The friend of mine there, Virag, you see. In Mr. Casaubon's ear, eye, heart, John, for this right royal welcome to green Erin, the brigade, of course. Even that brute today.

(Waule, who had his savings in a poor way.) Better late than never.

(He steps forward, pugnosed, on the floor.) You have said it.

(Paddy Dignam. Points jeering at the devil, before I had come to tell you not to meddle again, need not be a clergyman. Reporters complain that they were seated alone in the least calculating what words she should be obliged to do what? He ambles near with disgruntled hindquarters.)

BLOOM: (Weary they curchycurchy under veils.) Know what I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you must buckle to.

RUDY: (In bodycoats, kneebreeches, buff stockings and powdered wig. I've got a new pain, he wanted to get into a railway carriage; while accommodation-bridges and high pointed hat. Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves. Beside her mirage of datepalms a handsome apartment in the Ministry, may, when they dined at her cigarette. He frowns.)

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Circe #George Eliot #Victorian novels #British novelists #Bildungsromaener #didactic literature #Marian Evans #Middlemarch (novel)

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