Chapter15 Circe

The Mabbot street entrance of nighttown, before which stretches an uncobbled transiding set with skeleton tracks, red and green will-o'-the-wisps and danger signals. Rows of flimsy houses with gaping doors. Rare lamps with faint rainbow fans. Round Rabaiotti's halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble. They grab wafers between which are wedged lumps of coal and copper snow. Sucking, they scatter slowly. Children. The swancomb of the gondola, highreared, forges on through the murk, white and blue under a lighthouse. Whistles call and answer.

THE CALLS: Wait, my love, and I'll be with you.

THE ANSWERS: Round behind the stable.

(A deaf mute idiot with goggle eyes, his shapeless mouth dribbling, jerks past, shaken in Saint Vitus' dance. A chain of children's hands imprisons him.)

THE CHILDREN: Kithoguel Salute.

THE IDIOT: (Lifts a palsied left arm and gurgles.) Grhahute!

THE CHILDREN: Where's the great light?

THE IDIOT: (Gobbing.) Ghaghahest.

(They release him. He jerks on. A pygmy woman swings on a rope slung between the railings, counting. A form sprawled against a dustbin and muffled by its arm and hat moves, groans, grinding growling teeth, and snores again. On a step a gnome totting among a rubbish tip crouches to shoulder a sack of rags and bones. A crone standing by with a smoky oil lamp rams the last bottle in the maw of his sack. He heaves his booty, tugs askew his peaked cap and hobbles off mutely. The crone makes back for her lair swaying her lamp. A bandy child, asquat on the doorstep with a papershuttlecock, crawls sidling after her in spurts, clutches her skirt, scrambles up. A drunken navvy ups with both hands the railings of an area, lurching heavily. At a corner two night watch in shoulder capes, their hands upon their staffholsters, loom tall. A plate crashes; a woman screams; a child wails. Oaths of a man roar, mutter, cease. Figures wander, lurk, peer from warrens. In a room lit by a candle stuck in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the hair of a scrofulous child. Cissy Caffrey's voice, still young, sings shrill from a lane.)

CISSY CAFFREY:

(Private Cart and Private Compton, swaggersticks tight in their oxters, as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from their mouths a volleyed fart. Laughter of men from the lane. A hoarse virago retorts.)

THE VIRAGO: Signs on you, hairy arse. More power the Cavan girl.

CISSY CAFFREY: More luck to me. Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet. (She sings.)

(Private Cart and Private Compton turn and counterretort, their tunics bloodbright in a lampglow, black sockets of caps on their blond copper polls. Stephen Dedalus and Lynch pass through the crowd close to the redcoats.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Jerks his finger.) Way for the parson.

PRIVATE CARR: (Turns and calls.) What ho, parson!

CISSY CAFFREY: (Her voice soaring higher.)

(Stephen, flourishing the ashplant in his left hand, chants with joy the introit for paschal time. Lynch, his jockey cap low on his brow, attends him, a sneer of discontent wrinkling his face.)

STEPHEN: Vidi aquam egredientem de templo a latere dextro. Alleluia.

(The famished snaggletusks of an elderly bawd protrude from a doorway.)

THE BAWD: (Her voice whispering huskily.) Sst! Come here till I tell you. Maidenhead inside. Sst.

STEPHEN: (Altius aliqantulum) Et omnes ad quos pervenit acqua ista.

THE BAWD: (Spits in their trail her jet of venom.) Trinity medicals. Fallopian tube. All prick and no pence.

(Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with Bertha Supple, draws her shawl across her nostrils.)

EDY BOARDMAN: (Bickering.) And say the one: I seen you up Faithful place with your squarepusher, the greaser off the railway, in his cometobed hat. Did you, says I. That's not for you to say, says I. You never seen me in the mantrap with a married highlander, says I. The likes of her! Stag that one is. Stubborn as a mule! And her walking with two fellows the one time, Kildbride the enginedriver and lancecorporal Oliphant.

STEPHEN: (Triumphaliter.) Salvi facti i sunt.

(He flourishes his ashplant shivering the lamp image, shattering light over the world. A liver and white spaniel on the prowl slinks after him, growling. Lynch scar's it with a kick.)

LYNCH: So that?

STEPHEN: (Looks behind.) So that gesture, not music, not odours, would be a universal language, the gift of tongues rendering visible not the lay sense but the first entelechy, the structural rhythm.

LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology. Metaphysics in Mecklenburg street!

STEPHEN: We have shrewridden Shakespeare and henpecked Socrates. Even the allwisest stagyrite was bitted, bridled and mounted by a light of love.

LYNCH: Ba!

STEPHEN: Anyway, who wants two gestures to illustrate a loaf and a jug? This movement illustrates the loaf and jug of bread and wine in Omar. Hold my stick.

LYNCH: Damn your yellow stick. Where are we going?

STEPHEN: Lecherous lynx, to la belle dame sans merci, Georgina Johnson, ad deam qui laetificat juventutem meam.

(Stephen thrusts the ashplant on him and slowly holds out his hands, his head going back till both hands are a span from his breast, down turned in planes intersecting, the fingers about to part, the left being higher.)

LYNCH: Which is the jug of bread? It skills not. That or the customhouse. Illustrate thou. Here take your crutch and walk.

(They pass. Tommy Caffrey scrambles to a gaslamp and, clasping, climbs in spasms. From the top spur he slides down. Jacky Caffrey clasps to climb. The navvy lurches against the lamp. The twins scuttle off in the dark. The navvy, swaying, presses a forefinger against a wing of his nose and ejects from the farther nostril a long liquid jet of snot. Shouldering the lamp he staggers away through the crowd with his flaring cresset.

Snakes of river fog creep slowly. From drains, clefts, cesspools, middens arise on all sides stagnant fumes. A glow leaps in the south beyond the seaward reaches of the river. The navvy staggering forward cleaves the crowd and lurches towards the tramsiding. On the farther side under the railway bridge Bloom appears flushed, panting, cramming bread and chocolate into a side pocket. From Gillens hairdressers window a composite portrait shows him gallant Nelson's image. A concave mirror at the side presents to him lovelorn longlost lugubru Booloohoom. Grave Gladstone sees him level Bloom for Bloom. He passes, struck by the stare of truculent Wellington but in the con vex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.

At Antonio Babaiotti's door Bloom halts, sweated under the bright arclamps. He disappears. In a moment he reappears and hurries on.)

BLOOM: Fish and taters. N. g. Ah!

(He disappears into Olhousen's, the pork butcher's, under the downcoming rollshutter. A few moments later he emerges from under the shutter puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom. In each hand he holds a parcel, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the other a cold sheep's trotter sprinkled with wholepepper He gasps, standing upright. Then bending to one side he presses a parcel against his rib and groans.)

BLOOM: Stitch in my side. Why did I run?

(He takes breath with care and goes forward slowly towards the lampset siding. The glow leaps again.)

BLOOM: What is that? A flasher? Searchlight.

(He stands at Cormack's corner watching.)

BLOOM: Aurora borealis or a steel foundry? Ah, the brigade, of course. South side anyhow. Big blaze. Might be his house. Beggar's bush. We're safe. (He hums cheerfully.) London's burning, London's burning! On fire, on fire! (He catches sight of the navvy lurching through the crowd at the farther side of Talbot street.) I'll miss him. Run. Quick. Better cross here.

(He darts to cross the road. Urchins shout.)

THE URCHINS: Mind out, mister! (Two cyclists, with lighted paper lanterns aswing, swim by him, grazing him, their bells rattling.)

THE BELLS: Haltyaltyaltyall.

BLOOM: (Halts erect stung by a spasm.) Ow.

(He looks round, darts forward suddenly. Through rising fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon him, its huge red headlight winking, its trolley hissing on the wire. The motorman bangs his footgong.)

THE GONG: Bang Bang Bla Bak Blud Bugg Bloo.

(The brake cracks violently. Bloom, raising a policeman's whitegloved hand, blunders stifflegged, out of the track. The motorman thrown forward, pugnosed, on the guidewheel, yells as he slides past over chains and keys.)

THE MOTORMAN: Hey, shitbreeches, are you doing the hattrick?

BLOOM: (Bloom trickleaps to the curbstone and halts again. He brushes a mudflake from his cheek with a parcelled hand.) No thoroughfare. Close shave that but cured the stitch. Must take up Sandow's exercises again. On the hands down. Insure against street accident too. The Providential. (He feels his trouser pocket.) Poor mamma's panacea. Heel easily catch in tracks or bootlace in a cog. Day the wheel of the black Maria peeled off my shoe at Leonard's corner. Third time is the charm. Shoe trick. Insolent driver. I ought to report him. Tension makes them nervous. Might be the fellow balked me this morning with that horsey woman. Same style of beauty. Quick of him all the same. The stiff walk. True word spoken in jest. That awful cramp in Lad lane. Something poisonous I ate. Emblem of luck. Why? Probably lost cattle. Mark of the beast. (He closes his eyes an instant.) Bit light in the head. Monthly or effect of the other. Brainfogfag. That tired feeling. Too much for me now. Ow!

(A sinister figure leans on plaited legs against O'Beirnes wall, a visage unknown, injected with dark mercury. From under a wideleaved sombrero the figure regards him with evil eye.)

BLOOM: Buenos noches, se?orita Blanca, que calle es esta?

THE FIGURE: (Impassive, raises a signal arm.) Password. Sraid Mabbot.

BLOOM: Haha. Merci. Esperanto. Slan leath. (He mutters.) Gaelic league spy, sent by that fireeater.

(He steps forward. A sackshouldered ragman bars his path. He steps left, ragsackman left.)

BLOOM: I beg. (He swerves, sidles, stepsaside, slips past and on.)

BLOOM: Keep to the right, right, right. If there is a fingerpost planted by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon? I who lost my way and contributed to the columns of the Irish Cyclist the letter headed, In darkest Stepaside. Keep, keep, keep to the right. Rags and bones, at midnight. A fence more likely. First place murderer makes for. Wash off his sins of the world.

(Jacky Caffrey, hunted by Tommy Caffrey, runs full tilt against Bloom.)

BLOOM: O!

(Shocked, on weak hams, he halts. Tommy and Jacky vanish there, there. Bloom pats with parcelled hands watch, fobpocket, bookpocket, pursepocket, sweets of sin, potato soap.)

BLOOM: Beware of pickpockets. Old thieves' dodge. Collide. Then snatch your purse.

(The retriever approaches sniffling, nose to the ground. A sprawled form sneezes. A stooped bearded figure appears garbed in the long caftan of an elder in Zion and a smoking cap with magenta tassels. Horned spectacles hang down at the wings of the nose. Yellow poison streaks are on the drawn face.)

RUDOLPH: Second halfcrown waste money today. I told you not go with drunken goy ever. So. You catch no money.

BLOOM: (Hides the crubeen and trotter behind his back and, crestfallen, feels warm and cold feetmeat) Ja, ich weiss, papachi.

RUDOLPH: What you making down this place? Have you no soul? (With feeble vulture talons he feels the silent face of Bloom) Are you not my son Leopold, the grandson of Leopold? Are you not my dear son Leopold who left the house of his father and left the god of his fathers Abraham and Jacob?

BLOOM: (With precaution.) I suppose so, father. Mosenthal. All that's left of him.

RUDOLPH: (Severely.) One night they bring you home drunk as dog after spend your good money. What you call them running chaps?

BLOOM: (In youth's smart blue Oxford suit with white vestslips, narrowshouldered, in brown Alpine hat, wearing gent's sterling silver waterbury keyless watch and double curb Albert with seal attached, one side of him coated with stiffening mud.) Harriers, father. Only that once.

RUDOLPH: Once! Mud head to foot. Cut your hand open. Lockjaw. They make you kaput, Leopoldleben. You watch them chaps.

BLOOM: (Weakly.) They challenged me to a sprint. It was muddy. I slipped.

RUDOLPH: (With contempt) Ooim nachez. Nice spectacles for your poor mother!

BLOOM: Mamma!

ELLEN BLOOM: (In pantomime dame's stringed mobcap, crinoline and bustle, widow Twankey's blouse with muttonleg sleeves buttoned behind, grey mittens and cameo brooch, her hairplaited in a crisping net, appears over the staircase banisters, a slanted candlestick in her hand and cries out in shrill alarm.) O blessed Redeemer, what have they done to him! My smelling salts! (She hauls up a reef of skirt and ransacks the pouch of her striped blay petticoat. A phial, an Agnus Dei, a shrivelled potato and a celluloid doll fall out.) Sacred Heart of Mary, where were you at all, at all?

(Bloom, mumbling, his eyes downcast, begins to bestow his parcels in his filled pockets but desists, muttering.)

A VOICE: (Sharply.) Poldy!

BLOOM: Who? (He ducks and wards off a blow clumsily.) At your service.

(He looks up. Beside her mirage of datepalms a handsome woman in Turkish costume stands before him. Opulent curves fill out her scarlet trousers and jacket slashed with gold. A wide yells cummerbund girdles her. A white yashmak violet in the night, covers her face, leaving free only her lace dark eyes and raven hair.)

BLOOM: Molly!

MARION: Welly? Mrs Marion from this out, my dear man, when you speak to me. (Satirically.) Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long?

BLOOM: (Shifts from foot to foot.) No, no. Not the least little bit.

(He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air questions, hopes, crubeens for her supper things to tell her excuses, desire, spellbound. A coin gleams on her forehead. On her feet are jewelled toerings. Her ankles are linked by a slender fetterchain. Beside her a camel, hooded with a turreting turban, waits. A silk ladder of innumerable rungs climbs to his bobbing howdah. He ambles near with disgruntled hindquarters. Fiercely she slaps his haunch, her goldcurb wristbangles angriling, scolding him in Moorish.)

MARION: Nebrakada! Feminimum.

(The camel, lifting a foreleg, plucks from a tree a lace mango fruit, offers it to his mistress, blinking, in his cloven hoof then droops his head and, grunting, with uplifted neck, fumbles to kneel. Bloom stoops his back for leapfrog.)

BLOOM: I can give you... I mean as your business menagerer Mrs Marion... if you...

MARION: So you notice some change? (Her hands passing slowly over her trinketed stomacher. A slow friendly mockery in her eyes.) O Poldy, Poldy, you are a poor old stick in the mud! Go and see life. See the wide world.

BLOOM: I was just going back for that lotion whitewax, orangeflower water. Shop closes early on Thursday. But the first thing in the morning. (He pats divers pockets.) This moving kidney. Ah!

(He points to the south, then to the east. A cake of new clean lemon soap arises, diffusing light and perfume.)

THE SOAP

We're a capital couple are Bloom and I;

He brightens the earth, I polish the sky.

(The freckled face of Sweny, the druggist, appeals in the disc of the soapsun.)

SWENY: Three and a penny, please.

BLOOM: Yes. For my wife, Mrs Marion. Special recipe.

MARION: (Softly.) Poldy!

BLOOM: Yes, ma'am?

MARION: Ti trema un poco il cuore?

(In disdain she saunters away, plump as a pampered pouter pigeon, humming the duet from Don Giovanni)

BLOOM: Are you sure about that Voglio? I mean the pronunciati...

(He follows, followed by the sniffing terrier. The elderly bawd seizes his sleeve, the bristles of her chinmole glittering.)

THE BAWD: Ten shillings a maidenhead. Fresh thing was never touched. Fifteen. There's no-one in it only her old father that's dead drunk.

(She points. In the gap of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled Bridie Kelly stands.)

BRIDIE: Hatch street. Any good in your mind?

(With a squeak she flaps her bat shawl and runs. A burly rough pursues with booted strides. He stumbles on the steps, recovers, plunges into gloom. Weak squeaks of laughter are heard, weaker.)

THE BAWD: (Her wolfeyes shining.) He's getting his pleasure. You won't get a virgin in the flash houses. Ten shillings. Don't be all night before the polis in plain clothes sees us. Sixtyseven is a bitch.

(Leering Gerty MacDowell limps forward. She draws from behind ogling, and shows coyly her bloodied clout.)

GERTY: With all my worldly goods I thee and thou. (She murmurs.) You did that. I hate you.

BLOOM: I? When? You're dreaming. I never saw you.

THE BAWD: Leave the gentleman alone, you cheat. Writing the gentleman false letters. Streetwalking and soliciting. Better for your mother take the strap to you at the bedpost, hussy like you.

GERTY: (To Bloom.) When you saw all the secrets of my bottom drawer. (She paws his sleeve, slobbering.) Dirty married man! I love you for doing that to me.

(She slides away crookedly. Mrs Breen in man's frieze overcoat with loose bellows pockets, stands in the causeway, her roguish eyes wideopen, smiling in all her herbivorous buckteeth.)

MRS BREEN: Mr...

BLOOM: (Coughs gravely.) Madam, when we last had this pleasure by letter dated the sixteenth instant .

MRS BREEN: Mr Bloom! You down here in the haunts of sin! I caught you nicely! Scamp!

BLOOM: (Hurriedly.) Not so loud my name. Whatever do you think me? Don't give me away. Walls have hears. How do you do? It's ages since I. You're looking splendid. Absolutely it. Seasonable weather we are having this time of year. Black refracts heat. Short cut home here. Interesting quarter. Rescue of fallen women Magdalen asylum. I am the secretary...

MRS BREEN: (Holds up a finger.) Now don't tell a big fib! I know somebody won't like that. O just wait till I see Molly! (Slily.) Account for yourself this very minute or woe betide you!

BLOOM: (Looks behind.) She often said she'd like to visit. Slumming. The exotic, you see. Negro servants too in livery if she had money. Othello black brute. Eugene Stratton. Even the bones and cornerman at the Livermore christies. Bohee brothers. Sweep for that matter.

(Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white duck suits, scarlet socks, upstarched Sambo chokers and lace scarlet asters in their buttonholes leap out. Each has his banjo slung. Their paler smaller negroid hands jingle the twingtwang wires. Flashing white Kaffir eyes and tusks they rattle through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing, back to back, toe heel, heel toe, with smackfatclacking nigger lips.)

TOM AND SAM:

There's someone in the house with Dina

There's someone in the house, I know,

There's someone in the house with Dina

Playing on the old banjo.

(They whisk black masks from raw babby faces: then, chuckling, chortling, trumming, twanging they diddle diddle cakewalk dance away.)

BLOOM: (With a sour tenderish smile.) A little frivol, shall we, if you are so inclined? Would you like me perhaps to embrace you just for a fraction of a second?

MRS BREEN: (Screams gaily.) O, you ruck! You ought to see yourself!

BLOOM: For old sake'sake. I only meant a square party, a mixed marriage mingling of our different little conjugials. You know I had a soft corner for you. (Gloomily.) 'Twas I sent you that valentine of the dear gazelle.

MRS BREEN: Glory Alice, you do look a holy show! Killing simply. (She puts out her hand inquisitively.) What are you hiding behind your back? Tell us, there's a dear.

BLOOM: (Seizes her wrist with his free hand.) Josie Powell that was, prettiest deb in Dublin. How time flies by! Do you remember, harking back in a retrospective arrangement, Old Christmas night Georgina Simpson's housewarming while they were playing the Irving Bishop game, finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading? Subject, what is in this snuff box?

MRS BREEN: You were the lion of the night with your seriocomic recitation and you looked the part. You were always a favourite with the ladies.

BLOOM: (Squire of dames, in dinner jacket, with watered-silk facings, blue masonic badge in his buttonhole, black bow and mother-of-pearl studs, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his hand.) Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Ireland, home and beauty.

MRS BREEN: The dear dead days beyond recall. Love's old sweet song.

BLOOM: (Meaningfully dropping his voice.) I confess I'm teapot with curiosity to find out whether some person's something is a little teapot at present.

MRS BREEN: (Gushingly.) Tremendously teapot! London's tea pot and I'm simply teapot all over me. (She rubs sides with him.) After the parlour mystery games and the crackers from the tree we sat on the staircase ottoman. Under the mistletoe. Two is company.

BLOOM: (Wearing a purple Napoleon hat with an amber halfmoon, his fingers and thumbs passing slowly down to her soft moist meaty palm which she surrenders gently.) The witching hour of night. I took the splinter out of this hand, carefully, slowly. (Tenderly, as he slips on her finger a ruby ring.) Là ci darem la mano.

MRS BREEN: (In a onepiece eveningfrock executed in moonlight blue, a tinsel sylph's diadem on her brow with her dancecard fallen beside her moonblue satin slipper curves her palm softly, breathing quickly.) Voglio e non. You're hot! You're scalding! The left hand nearest the heart.

BLOOM: When you made your present choice they said it was beauty and the beast. I can never forgive you for that. (His clenched fist at his brow.) Think what it means. All you meant to me then. (Hoarsely.) Woman, it's breaking me!

(Dennis Breen, whitetallhatted, with Wisdom Hely's sandwich board, shuffles past them in cadet slippers, his dull beard thrust out, muttering to right and left. Little Alf Bergan, cloaked in the pall of the ace of spaces, dogs him to left and right, doubled in laughter.)

ALF BERGAN: (Points jeering at the sandwich boards.) U.p.: Up.

MRS BREEN: (To Bloom.) High jinks below stairs. (She gives him the glad eye.) Why didn't you kiss the spot to make it well? You wanted to.

BLOOM: (Shocked.) Molly's best friend! Could you?

MRS BREEN: (Her pulpy tongue between her lips, offers a pigeon kiss.) Hnhn. The answer is a lemon. Have you a little present for me there?

BLOOM: (Off handedly.) Kosher. A snack for supper. The home without potted meat is incomplete. I was at Leah. Mrs Bandman Palmer. Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare. Unfortunately threw away the programme. Rattling good place round there for pig's feet. Feel.

(Richie Goulding, three ladies' hats pinned on his head, appears weighted to one side by the black legal bag of Collis and Ward on which a skull and crossbones are painted in white limewash. He ins it and shows it full of polonies, kippered, herrings, Findon haddies and tightpacked pills.)

RICHIE: Best value in Dub.

(Bald Pat, bothered beetle, stands on the curbstone, folding his napkin, waiting to wait.)

PAT (Advances with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy.) Steak and kidney. Bottle of lager. Hee hee hee. Wait till I wait.

RICHIE: Goodgod. Inev erate inall...

(With hanging head he marches doggedly forward. The navvy, lurching by, gores him with his flaming pronghorn.)

RICHIE: (With a cry of pain, his hand to his back) Ah! Bright's! Lights!

BLOOM: (Points to the navvy.) A spy. Don't attract attention. I hate stupid crowds. I am not on pleasure bent. I am in a grave predicament.

MRS BREEN: Humbugging and delutbering as per usual with your cock and bull story.

BLOOM: I want to tell you a little secret about how I came to be here. But you must never tell. Not even Molly. I have a most particular reason.

MRS BREEN: (All agog.) O, not for worlds.

BLOOM: Let's walk on. Shall us?

MRS BREEN: Let's.

(The bawd makes an unheeded sign. Bloom walks on with Mrs Breen. The terrier follows, whining piteously, wagging his tail.)

THE BAWD: Jewman's melt!

BLOOM: (In an oatmeal sporting suit, a sprig of woodbine in the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white spats, fawn dustcoat on his arm, tawny red brogues, fieldglasses in bandolier and a grey billycock hat.) Do you remember a long long time, years and years ago, just after Milly, Marionette we called her, was weaned when we all went together to Fairyhouse races, was it?

MRS BREEN: (In smart Saxe tailormade, white velours hat and spider veil.) Leopardstown.

BLOOM: I mean, Leopardstown. And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that old fiveseater shanderadan of a waggonette you were in your heyday then and you had on that new hat of white velours with a surround of molefur that Mrs Hayes advised you to buy because it was marked down to nineteen and eleven, a bit of wire and an old rag of velveteen, and I'll lay you what you like she did it on purpose...

MRS BREEN: She did, of course, the cat! Don't tell me! Nice adviser!

BLOOM: Because it didn't suit you one quarter as well as the other ducky little tammy toque with the bird of paradise wing in it that I admired on you and you honestly looked just too fetching in it though it was a pity to kill it, you cruel creature, little mite of a thing with a heart the size of a fullstop.

MRS BREEN: (Squeezes his arm, simpers.) Naughty cruel I was.

BLOOM: (Low, secretly, ever more rapidly.) And Molly was eating a sandwich of spiced beef out of Mrs Joe Gallaher's lunch basket. Frankly, though she had her advisers or admirers, I never cared much for her style. She was .

MRS BREEN: Too.

BLOOM: Yes. And Molly was laughing because Rogers and Maggot O'Reilly were mimicking a cock as we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses, the tea merchant, drove past us in a gig with his daughter, Dancer Moses was her name, and the poodle in her lap bridled up and you asked me if I ever heard or read or knew or came across .

MRS BREEN: (Eagerly.) Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

(She fades from his side. Followed by the whining dog he walks on towards hellsgates. In an archway a standing woman, bent forward, her feet apart, pisses cowily. Outside a shuttered pub a bunch of loiterers listen to a tale which their broken snouted gaffer rasps out with raucous humour. An armless pair of them flop wrestling, growling, in maimed sodden playfight.)

THE GAFFER (Crouches, his voice twisted in his snout.) And when Cairns came down from the scaffolding in Beaver Street what was he after doing it into only into the bucket of porter that was there waiting on the shavings for Derwan's plasterers.

THE LOITERERS (Guffaw with cleft palates.) O jays!

(Their paintspeckled hats wag. Spattered with size and lime of their lodges they frisk limblessly about him.)

BLOOM: Coincidence too. They think it funny. Anything but that. Broad daylight. Trying to walk. Lucky no woman.

THE LOITERERS Jays, that's a good one. Glauber salts. O jays, into the men's porter.

(Bloom passes. Cheap whores, singly, coupled, shawled, dishevelled, call from lanes, doors, corners.)

THE WHORES:

Are you going far, queer fellow?

How's your middle leg?

Got a match on you?

Eh, come here till I stiffen it for you.

(He plodges through their sump towards the lighted street beyond. From a bulge of window curtains a gramophone rears a battered brazen trunk. In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the navvy and the two redcoats.)

THE NAVVY: (Belching.) Where's the bloody house?

THE SHEBEENKEEPER: Purdon street. Shilling a bottle of stout. Respectable woman.

THE NAVVY: (Gripping the two redcoats, staggers forward with them.) Come on, you British army!

PRIVATE CARR: (Behind his back.) He aint half balmy.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (LAughs.) What ho!

PRIVATE CARR: (To the navvy.) Portobello barracks canteen. You ask for Carr. Just Carr.

THE NAVVY: (Shouts.)

We are the boys. Of Wexford.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Say! What price the sergeantmajor?

PRIVATE CARR: Bennett? He's my pal. I love old Bennett.

THE NAVVY: (Shouts.)

The galling chain.

And free our native land.

(He staggers forward, dragging them with him. Bloom stops, at fault. The dog approaches, his tongue outlolling, panting.)

BLOOM: Wildgoose chase this. Disorderly houses. Lord knows where they are gone. Drunks cover distance double quick. Nice mixup. Scene at Westland row. Then jump in first class with third ticket. Then too far. Train with engine behind. Might have taken me to Malahide or a siding for the night or collision. Second drink does it. Once is a dose. What am I following him for? Still, he's the best of that lot. If I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have met. Kismet. He'll lose that cash. Relieving office here. Good biz for cheapjacks, organs. What do ye lack? Soon got, soon gone. Might have lost my life too with that mangongwheeltracktrolleyglarejuggernaut only for presence of mind. Can't always save you, though. If I had passed Truelock's window that day two minutes later would have been shot. Absence of body. Still if bullet only went through my coat get damages for shock, five hundred pounds. What was he? Kildare street club toff. God help his gamekeeper.

(He gazes ahead reading on the wall a scrawled chalk legend Wet Dream and a phallic design.)

Odd! Molly drawing on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. What's that like? (Gaudy dollwomen loll in the lighted doorways, in window embrasures, smoking birdseye cigarettes. The odour of the sicksweet weed floats towards him in slow round ovalling wreaths.)

THE WREATHS: Sweet are the sweets. Sweets of sin.

BLOOM: My spine's a bit limp. Go or turn? And this food? Eat it and get all pigsticky. Absurd I am. Waste of money. One and eightpence too much. (The retriever drives a cold snivelling muzzle against his hand, wagging his tail.) Strange how they take to me. Even that brute today. Better speak to him first. Like women they like rencontres. Stinks like a polecat. Chacun son go?t. He might be mad. Fido. Uncertain in his movements. Good fellow! Garryowen! (The wolfdog sprawls on his back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, his long black tongue lolling out.) Influence of his surroundings. Give and have done with it. Provided nobody. (Calling encouraging words he shambles back with a furtive poacher's tread, dogged by the setter into a dark stalestunk corner. He unrolls one parcel and goes to dump the crubeen softly but holds back and feels the trotter.) Sizeable for threepence. But then I have it in my left hand. Calls for more effort. Why? Smaller from want of use. O, let it slide. Two and six.

(With regret he lets unrolled crubeen and trotter slide. The mastiff mauls the bundle clumsily and gluts himself with growling greed, crunching the bones. Two raincaped watch approach, silent, vigilant. They murmur together.)

THE WATCH Bloom. Of Bloom. For Bloom. Bloom.

(Each lays a hand on Blooms shoulder.)

FIRST WATCH: Caught in the act. Commit no nuisance.

BLOOM: (Stammers.) I am doing good to others.

(A covey of gulls, storm petrels, rises hungrily from Liffey slime with Banbury cakes in their beaks.)

THE GULLS: Kaw kave kankury kake.

BLOOM: The friend of man. Trained by kindness.

(He points. Bob Doran, toppling from a high bars tool, sways over the munching spaniel.)

BOB DORAN: Towser. Give us the paw. Give the paw.

(The bulldog growls, his scruff standing, a gobbet of pigs knuckle between his molars through which rabid scrumspittle dribbles. Bob Doran falls silently into an area.)

SECOND WATCH: Prevention of cruelty to animals.

BLOOM: (Enthusiastically.) A noble work! I scolded that tramdriver on Harold's cross bridge for illusing the poor horse with his harness scab. Bad French I got for my pains. Of course it was frosty and the last tram. All tales of circus life are highly demoralising.

(Signor Maffei, passion pale, in liontamer's costume with diamond studs in his shirtfront, steps forward, holding a circus paper hoop, a curling carriagewhip and a revolver with which he covers the going boarhound.)

SIGNOR MAFFEI: (With a sinister smile.) Ladies and gentlemen, my educated greyhound. It was I broke in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent spiked saddle for carnivores. Lash under the belly with a knotted thong. Block tackle and a strangling pully will bring your lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even Leo ferox there, the Libyan maneater. A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the thinking hyena. (He glares.) I possess the Indian sign. The glint of my eye does it with these breastsparklers. (With a bewitching smile.) I now introduce Mademoiselle Ruby, the pride of the ring.

FIRST WATCH: Come. Name and address.

BLOOM: I have forgotten for the moment. Ah, yes! (He takes off his high grade hat, saluting.) Dr Bloom, Leopold, dental surgeon. You have heard of von Bloom Pasha. Umpteen mil lions. Donnerwetter! Owns half Austria. Egypt. Cousin.

FIRST WATCH: Proof.

(A card falls from inside the leather headband of Bloom's hat.)

BLOOM: (In red fez, cadi's dress coat with broad green sash, wearing a false badge of the Legion of Honour, picks up the card hastily and offers it.) Allow me. My club is the Junior Army and Navy. Solicitors: Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor's Walk.

FIRST WATCH: (Reads.) Henry Flower. No fixed abode. Un lawfully watching and besetting.

SECOND WATCH: An alibi. You are cautioned.

BLOOM: (Produces from his heartpocket a crumpled yellow flower.) This is the flower in question. It was given me by a man I don't know his name. (Plausibly.) You know that old joke, rose of Castille. Bloom. The change of name Virag. (He murmurs privately and confidentially.) We are engaged you see, sergeant. Lady in the case. Love entanglement. (He shoulders the second watch gently.) Dash it all. It's a way we gallants have in the navy. Uniform that does it. (He turns gravely to the first watch.) Still, of course, you do get your Waterloo sometimes. Drop in some evening and have a glass of old Burgundy. (To the second watch gaily.) I'll introduce you, inspector. She's game. Do it in shake of a lamb's tail.

(A dark mercurialised face appears, leading a veiled figure.)

THE DARK MERCURY: The Castle is looking for him. He was drummed out of the army.

MARTHA: (Thickveiled, a crimson halter round her neck, a copy of the Irish Times in her hand, in tone of reproach, pointing.) Henry! Leopold! Leopold! Lionel, thou lost one! Clear my name.

FIRST WATCH: (Sternly.) Come to the station.

BLOOM: (Scared, hats himself steps back, then, plucking at his heart and lifting his right forearm on the square, he gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft.) No, no, worshipful master, light of love. Mistaken identity. The Lyons mail. Lesurques and Dubosc. You remember the Childs fratricide case. We medical men. By striking him dead with a hatchet. I am wrongfully accused. Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned.

MARTHA: (Sobbing behind her veil.) Breach of promise. My real name is Peggy Griffin. He wrote to me that he was miserable. I'll tell my brother, the Bective rugger fullback, on you, heartless flirt.

BLOOM: (Behind his hand.) She's drunk. The woman is inebriated. (He murmurs vaguely the past of Ephraim.) Shitbroleeth.

SECOND WATCH: (Tears in his eyes, to Bloom.) You ought to be thoroughly well ashamed of yourself.

BLOOM: Gentleman of the jury, let me explain. A pure mare's nest. I am a man misunderstood. I am being made a scapegoat of. I am a respectable married man, without a stain on my character. I live in Eccles street. My wife, I am the daughter of a most distinguished commander, a gallant upstanding gentleman, who do you call him, Majorgeneral Brian Tweedy, one of Britain's fighting men who helped to win our battles. Got his majority for the heroic defence of Rorke's Drift.

FIRST WATCH: Regiment.

BLOOM: (Turns to the gallery.) The royal Dublins, boys, the salt of the earth, known the world over. I think I see some old comrades in arms up there among you. The R. D. F. With our own Metropolitan police, guardians of our homes, the pluckiest lads and the finest body of men, as physique, in the service of our sovereign.

A VOICE: Turncoat! Up the Boers! Who booed Joe Chamberlain?

BLOOM: (His hand on the shoulder of the first watch.) My old dad too was a J.P. I'm as staunch a Britisher as you are, sir. I fought with the colours for king and country in the absentminded war under General Gough in the park and was disabled at Spion Kop and Bloemfontein, was mentioned in dispatches. I did all a white man could. (With quiet feeling.) Jim Bludso. Hold her nozzle again the bank.

FIRST WATCH: Profession or trade.

BLOOM: Well, I follow a literary occupation. Author-journalist. In fact we are just bringing out a collection of prize stories of which I am the inventor, something that is an entirely new departure. I am connected with the British and Irish press. If you ring up...

(Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a quill between his teeth. His scarlet beak blazes within the aureole of his straw hat. He dangles a hank of Spanish onions in one hand and holds with the other hand a telephone receiver nozzle to his ear.)

MYLES CRAWFORD: (His cock's wattles wagging.) Hello, seventyseven eightfour. Hello. Freeman's Urinal and Weekly Arse wiper here. Paralyse Europe. You which? Bluebags? Who writes? Is it Bloom?

(Mr Philip Beaufoy, palefaced, stands in the witnessbox, in accurate morning dress, outbreast pocket with peak of handkerchief showing, creased lavender trousers and patent boots. He cames a lace portfolio labelled Matcham's Masterstrokes.)

BEAUFOY: (Drawls.) No, you aren't, not by a long shot if I know it. I don't see it, that's all. No born gentleman, no one with the most rudimentary promptings of a gentleman would stoop to such particularly loathsome conduct. One of those, my lord. A plagiarist. A soapy sneak masquerading as a literateur. It's perfectly obvious that with the most inherent baseness he has cribbed some of my bestselling books, really gorgeous stuff, a perfect gem, the love passages in which are beneath suspicion. The Beaufoy books of love and great possessions with which your lordship is doubtless familiar, are a household word throughout the kingdom.

BLOOM: (Murmurs with hangdog meekness.) That bit about the laughing witch hand in hand I take exception to, if I may... ?

BEAUFOY: (His lip upcurled, smiles superciliously on the court.) You funny ass, you! You're too beastly awfully weird for words! I don't think you need over excessively disincommodate yourself in that regard. My literary agent Mr J. B. Pinker is in attendance. I presume, my lord, we shall receive the usual witnesses' fees, shan't we? We are considerably out of pocket over this bally pressman johnny, this jackdaw of Rheims, who has not even been to a university.

BLOOM: (Indistinctly.) University of life. Bad art.

BEAUFOY: (Shouts.) It's a damnably foul lie showing the moral rottenness of the man! (He extends his portfolio.) We have here damning evidence, the corpus delicti, my lord, a specimen of my maturer work disfigured by the hallmark of the beast.

A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY:

Moses, Moses, king of the jews,

Wiped his arse in the Daily News.

BLOOM: (Bravely.) Overdrawn.

BEAUFOY: You low cad! You ought to be ducked in the horsepond, you rotter! (To the court.) Why, look at the man's private life! Leading a quadruple existence! Street angel and house devil. Not fit to be mentioned in mixed society. The arch conspirator of the age.

BLOOM: (To the court.) And he, a bachelor, how.

FIRST WATCH: The King versus Bloom. Call the woman Driscoll.

THE CRIER: Mary Driscoll, scullerymaid!

(Mary Driscoll, a slipshod servant girl, approaches. She has a bucket on the crook of her arm and a scouringbrush in her hand.)

SECOND WATCH: Another! Are you of the unfortunate class?

MARY DRISCOLL: (Indignantly.) I'm not a bad one. I bear a respectable character and was four months in my last place. I was in a situation, six pounds a year and my chances with Fridays out, and I had to leave owing to his carryings on.

FIRST WATCH: What do you tax him with?

MARY DRISCOLL: He made a certain suggestion but I thought more of myself as poor as I am.

BLOOM: (In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, heelless slippers, unshaven, his hair rumpled softly.) I treated you white. I gave you mementoes, smart emerald garters far above your station. Incautiously I took your part when you were accused of pilfering. There's a medium in all things. Play cricket.

MARY DRISCOLL: (Excitedly.) As God is looking down on me this night if ever I laid a hand to them oysters!

FIRST WATCH: The offence complained of? Did something happen?

MARY DRISCOLL: He surprised me in the rere of the premises, your honour, when the missus was out shopping one morning with a request for a safety pin. He held me and I was discoloured in four places as a result. And he interfered twice with my clothing.

BLOOM: She counterassaulted.

MARY DRISCOLL: (Scornfully.) I had more respect for the scouringbrush, so I had. I remonstrated with him, your lord, and he remarked: Keep it quiet!

(General laughter.)

GEORGES FOTTRELL: (Clerk of the crown and peace, resonantly.) Order in court! The accused will now make a bogus statement.

(Bloom, pleading not guilty and holding a fullblown waterlily, begins a long unintelligible speech. They would hear what counsel had to say in his stirring address to the grand-jury. He was down and out but, though branded as a black sheep, if he might say so, he meant to reform, to retrieve the memory of the past in a purely sisterly way and return to nature as a purely domestic animal. A seven months' child, he had been carefully brought up and nurtured by an aged bedridden parent. There might have been lapses of an erring father but he wanted to turn over a new leaf and now, when at long last in sight of the whipping post, to lead a homely life in the evening of his days, permeated by the affectionate surroundings of the heaving bosom of the family. An acclimatised Britisher he had seen that summer eve from the footplate of an engine cab of the Loop line railway company while the rain refrained from falling glimpses, as it were, through the windows of loveful households in Dublin city and urban district of scenes truly rural of happiness of the better land with Dockrell's wallpaper at one and ninepence a dozen, innocent British born bairns lisping prayers to the Sacred Infant, youthful scholars grappling with their pensums, model young ladies playing on the pianoforte or anon all with fervour reciting the family rosary round the crackling Yulelog while in the boreens and green lanes the colleens with their swains strolled what times the strains of the organtoned melodeon Britannia metalbound with four acting stops and twelvefold bellows, a sacrifice, greatest bargain ever... )

(Renewed laughter. He mumbles incoherently. Reporters complain that they cannot hear.)

LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND: (Without looking up from their notebooks.) Loosen his boots.

PROFESSOR MACHUGH: (From the presstable, coughs and calls.) Cough it up, man. Get it out in bits.

(The crossexamination proceeds re Bloom and the bucket. A lace bucket. Bloom himself Bowel trouble. In Beaver street. Gripe, yes. Quite bad. A plasterers bucket. By walking stifflegged. Suffered untold misery. Deadly agony. About noon. Love or burgundy. Yes, some spinach. Crucial moment. He did not look in the bucket. Nobody. Rather a mess. Not completely. A Titbits back number.)

(Uproar and catcalls. Bloom, in a torn frockcoat stained with whitewash, dinged silk hat sideways on his head, a strip of sticking-plaster across his nose, talks inaudibly.)

J. J. O'MOLLOY: (In barrister's grey wig and stuffgown, speaking with a voice of pained protest.) This is no place for indecent levity at the expense of an erring mortal disguised in liquor. We are not in a beargarden nor at an Oxford rag nor is this a travesty of justice. My client is an infant, a poor foreign immigrant who started scratch as a stowaway and is now trying to turn an honest penny. The trumped up misdemeanour was due to a momentary aberration of heredity, brought on by hallucination, such familiarities as the alleged guilty occurrence being quite permitted in my client's native place, the land of the Pharaoh. Prima facie, I put it to you that there was no attempt at carnally knowing. Intimacy did not occur and the offence complained of by Driscoll, that her virtue was solicited, was not repeated. I would deal inespecial with atavism. There have been cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my client's family. If the accused could speak he could a tale unfold one of the strangest that have ever been narrated between the covers of a book. He himself, my lord, is a physical wreck from cobbler's weak chest. His submission is that he is of Mongolian extraction and irresponsible for his actions. Not all there, in fact.

BLOOM: (Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in lascar's vest and trousers, apologetic toes turned in, opens his tiny mole's eyes and looks about him dazedly, passing a slow hand across his forehead. Then he hitches his belt sailor fashion and with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court, pointing one thumb heavenward.) Him makee velly muchee fine night. (He begins to lilt simply.)

Li li poo lil chile,

Blingee pigfoot evly night.

Payee two shilly...

(He is howled down.)

J. J. O'MOLLOY: (Hotly to the populace.) This is a lonehand fight. By Hades, I will not have any client of mine gagged and badgered in this fashion by a pack of curs and laughing hyenas. The Mosaic code has superseded the law of the jungle. I say it and I say it emphatically without wishing for one moment to defeat the ends of justice, accused was not accessory before the act and prosecutrix has not been tampered with. The young person was treated by defendant as if she were his very own daughter. (Bloom takes J. J. O'Molloy's hand and raises it to his lips.) I shall call rebutting evidence to prove up to the hilt that the hidden hand is again at its old game. When in doubt persecute Bloom. My client, an innately bashful man, would be the last man in the world to do anything ungentlemanly which injured modesty could object to or cast a stone at a girl who took the wrong turning when some dastard, responsible for her condition, had worked his own sweet will on her. He wants to go straight. I regard him as the whitest man I know. He is down on his luck at present owing to the mortgaging of his extensive property at Agendath Netaim in faraway Asia Minor, slides of which will now be shown. (To Bloom.) I suggest that you will do the handsome thing.

BLOOM: A penny in the pound.

(The mirage of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in silver haze is projected on the wall. Moses Dlugacz, ferreteyed albino, in blue dungarees, stands up in the gallery, holding in each hand an orange citron and a pork kidney.)

DLUGACZ: (Hoarsely.) Bleibtreustrasse, Berlin, W. 13.

(J. J. O'Molloy steps on to a low plinth and holds the lapel of his coat with solemnity. His face lengthens, grows pale and bearded, with sunken eyes, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John F. Taylor. He applies his handkerchief to his mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood.)

J. J. O'MOLLOY: (Almost voicelessly.) Excuse me, I am suffering from a severe chill, have recently come from a sickbed. A few wellchosen words. (He assumes the avine head, foxy moustache and proboscidal eloquence of Seymour Bushe.) When the angel's book comes to be opened if aught that the pensive bosom has inaugurated of soultransfigured and of soultransfiguring deserves to live I say accord the prisoner at the bar the sacred benefit of the doubt. (A paper with something written on it is handed into court.)

BLOOM: (In court dress.) Can give best references. Messrs Callan, Coleman. Mr Wisdom Hely J. P. My old chief Joe Cuffe. Mr V. B. Dillon, ex-lord mayor of Dublin. I have moved in the charmed circle of the highest . Queens of Dublin Society. (Carelessly.) I was just chatting this afternoon at the viceregal lodge to my old pals, sir Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal, at the levee. Sir Bob, I said...

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brick quilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.) Arrest him constable. He wrote me an anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband was in the North Riding of Tipperary on the Munster circuit, signed James Lovebirch. He said that he had seen from the gods my peerless globes as I sat in a box of the Theatre Royal at a command performance of La Cigale. I deeply inflamed him, he said. He made improper overtures to me to misconduct myself at half past four p.m. on the following Thursday, Dunsink time. He offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled The Girl with the Three Pairs of Stays.

MRS BELLINGHAM: (In cap and seal coneymantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzingglasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.) Also to me. Yes, I believe it is the same objectionable person. 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 wastepipe and ballstop in my bath cistern were frozen. Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the heights, as he said, in my honour. I had it examined by a botanical expert and elicited the information that it was a blossom of the homegrown potato plant purloined from a forcingcase of the model farm.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Shame on him!

(A crowd of sluts and ragamuffins sues forward.)

THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: (Screaming.) Stop thief! Hurrah there, Bluebeard! Three cheers for Ikey Mo!

SECOND WATCH: (Produces handcuffs.) Here are the darbies.

MRS BELLINGHAM: He addressed me in several handwritings with fulsome compliments as a Venus in furs and alleged profound pity for my frostbound coachman Balmer while in the same breath he expressed himself as envious of his earflaps and fleecy sheepskins and of his fortunate proximity to my person, when standing behind my chair wearing my livery and the armorial bearings of the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable, a buck's head couped or. He lauded almost extravagantly my nether extremities, my swelling calves in silk hose drawn up to the limit, and eulogised glowingly my other hidden treasures in priceless lace which, he said, he could conjure up. He urged me, stating that he felt it his mission in life to urge me, to defile the marriage bed, to commit adultery at the earliest possible opportunity.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (In amazon costume, hard hat, jackboots cockspurred, vermilion waistcoat, fawn musketeer gauntlets with bra idea drums, long train held up and hunting crop with which she strikes her welt constantly.) Also me. Because he saw me on the polo ground of the Phnix park at the match All Ireland versus the Rest of Ireland. My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain Slogger Dennehy of the Inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob Centaur. This plebeian Don Juan observed me from behind a hackney car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. I have it still. It represents a partially nude senorita, frail and lovely (his wife as he solemnly assured me, taken by him from nature), practising illicit intercourse with a muscular torero, evidently a blackguard. He urged me to do likewise, to misbehave, to sin with officers of the garrison. He implored me to soil his letter in an unspeakable manner, to chastise him as he richly deserves, to bestride and ride him, to give him a most vicious horsewhipping.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Me too.

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Me too.

(Several highly respectable Dublin ladies hold up improper letters received from Bloom.)

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN: TALBOYS (Stamps her jingling spurs in a sudden paroxysm of sudden fury.) I will, by the God above me. I'll scourge the pigeonlivered cur as long as I can stand over him. I'll flay him alive.

BLOOM: (His eyes closing, quails expectantly.) Here? (He squirms.) Again! (He pants cringing.) I love the danger.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: Very much so! I'll make it hot for you. I'll make you dance Jack Latten for that.

MRS BELLINGHAM: Tan his breech well, the upstart! Write the stars and stripes on it!

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Disgraceful! There's no excuse for him! A married man!

BLOOM: All these people. I meant only the spanking idea. A warm tingling glow without effusion. Refined birching to stimulate the circulation.

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Laughs derisively.) O, did you, my fine fellow? Well, by the living God, you'll get the surprise of your life now, believe me, the most unmerciful hiding a man ever bargained for. You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury.

MRS BELLINGHAM: (Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses vindictively.) Make him smart, Hanna dear. Give him ginger. Thrash the mongrel within an inch of his life. The cat-o' nine-tails. Geld him. Vivisect him.

BLOOM: (Shuddering, shrinking, joins his hands with hangdog mien.) O cold! O shivery! It was your ambrosial beauty. Forget, forgive. Kismet. Let me off this once. (He offers the other cheek.)

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Severely.) Don't do so on any account, Mrs Talboys! He should be soundly trounced!

THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: (Unbuttoning her gauntlet violently.) I'll do no such thing. Pig dog and always was ever since he was pupped! To dare address me! I'll flog him black and blue in the public streets. I'll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. He is a wellknown cuckold. (She swishes her hunting crop savagely in the air.) Take down his trousers without loss of time. Come here, sir! Quick! Ready?

BLOOM: (Trembling, beginning to obey.) The weather has been so warm.

(Davy Stephens, ringleted, passes with a bevy of barefoot newsboys.)

DAVY STEPHENS: Messenger of the Sacred Heart and Evening Telegraph with Saint Patrick's Day Supplement. Containing the new addresses of all the cuckolds in Dublin.

(The very reverend Canon O'Hanlon in cloth of gold cope elevates and exposes a marble timepiece. Before him Father Conroy and the reverend John Hughes S.J. bend low.)

THE TIMEPIECE: (Unportalling.)

Cuckoo

Cuckoo

Cuckoo

(The brass quoits of a bed are heard to jingle.)

THE QUOITS: Jigjag, Jigajiga. Jigjag.

(A panel of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing rapidly in the jurybox the faces of Martin Cunningham, foreman silkhatted, Jack Power Simon Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Henry Menton, Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard Nosey Flynn, M'Coy and the featureless face of a Nameless One.)

THE NAMELESS ONE: Bareback riding. Weight for age. Gob, he organised her.

THE JURORS: (All their heads turned to his voice.) Really?

THE NAMELESS ONE: (Snarls.) Arse over tip. Hundred shillings to five.

THE JURORS: (All their heads lowered in assent.) Most of us thought as much.

FIRST WATCH: He is a marked man. Another girl's plait cut. Wanted: Jack the Ripper. A thousand pounds reward.

SECOND WATCH: (Awed, whispers.) And in black. A mormon. Anarchist.

THE CRIER: (Loudly.) Whereas Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a well-known dynamitard, forger, bigamist, bawd and cuckold ad a public nuisance to the citizens of Dublin and whereas at this commission of assizes the most honourable.

(His Honour sir Frederick Falkiner recorder of Dublin, in judicial garb of grey stone rises from the bench, stonebearded. He bears in his arms an umbrella sceptre. From his forehead arise starkly the Mosaic ramshorns.)

THE RECORDER: I will put an end to this white slave traffic and rid Dublin of this odious pest. Scandalous! (He dons the black cap.) Let him be taken, Mr Subsheriff, from the dock where he now stands and detained in custody in Mountjoy prison during His Majesty's pleasure and there be hanged by the neck until he is dead and therein fail not at your peril or may the Lord have-mercy on your soul. Remove him. (A black skullcap descends upon his head.)

(The subsheriff long John Fanning appears, smoking a pungent Henry Clay.)

LONG JOHN FANNING: (Scowls and calls with rich rolling utterance.) Who'll hang Judas Iscariot?

(H. Rumbold, master barber in a bloodcoloured jerk in and tanner's apron, a rope coiled over his shoulder mounts the block. A life preserver and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in his belt. He rubs grimly his grapping hands, knobbed with knuckledusters.)

RUMBOLD: (To the recorder with sinister familiarity.) Hanging Harry, your Majesty, the Mersey terror. Five guineas a jugular. Neck or nothing.

(The bells of George's church toll slowly, loud dark iron.)

THE BELLS: Heigho! Heigho!

BLOOM: (Desperately.) Wait. Stop. Gulls. Good heart. I saw. Innocence. Girl in the monkeyhouse. Zoo. Lewd chimpanzees. (Breathlessly.) Pelvic basin. Her artless blush unmanned me. (Overcome with emotion.) I left the precincts. (He turns to a figure in the crowd, appealing.) Hynes, may I speak to you? You know me. That three shillings you can keep. If you want a little more .

HYNES (Coldly.) You are a perfect stranger.

SECOND WATCH: (Points to the corner.) The bomb is here.

FIRST WATCH: Infernal machine with a time fuse.

BLOOM: No, no. Pig's feet. I was at a funeral.

FIRST WATCH: (Draws his truncheon.) Liar!

(The beagle lifts his snout, showing the grey scorbutic face of Paddy Dignam. He has gnawed all. He exhales a putrid carcasefed breath. He grows to human size and shape. His dachshund coat becomes a brown mortuary habit. His green eyeflashes bloodshot. Half of one ear all the nose and both thumbs are ghouleaten.)

PADDY DIGNAM: (In a hollow voice.) It is true. It was my funeral. Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease from natural causes.

(He lifts his mutilated ashen face moonwards and bays lugubriously.)

BLOOM: (In triumph.) You hear?

PADDY DIGNAM: Bloom, I am Paddy Dignam's spirit. List, list, O list!

BLOOM: The voice is the voice of Esau.

SECOND WATCH: (Blesses himself.) How is that possible?

FIRST WATCH: It is not in the penny catechism.

PADDY DIGNAM: By metempsychosis. Spooks.

A VOICE: O rocks.

PADDY DIGNAM: (Earnestly.) Once I was in the employ of Mr J. H. Menton, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits, of 27 Bachelor's Walk. Now I am defunct, the wall of the heart hypertrophied. Hard lines. The poor wife was awfully cut up. Dow is she bearing it? Keep her off that bottle of sherry. (He looks round him.) A lamp. I must satisfy an animal need. That buttermilk didn't agree with me.

(The portly figure of John O'Connell, caretaker stands forth, holding a bunch of keys tied with crape. Beside him stands Father Coffey, chaplain, toad bellied, wrynecked, in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, holding sleepily a staff of twisted poppies.)

FATHER COFFEY: (Yawns, then chants with a hoarse croak.) Namine. Jacobs Vobiscuits. Amen.

(Foghorns stormily through his megaphone.) Dignam, Patrick T., deceased.

PADDY DIGNAM: (With pricked up ears, winces.) Overtones.

(He wriggles forward, places an ear to the ground.) My masters' voice!

JOHN O'CONNELL: Burial docket letter number U. P. Eightyfive thousand. Field seventeen. House of Keys. Plot, one hundred and one.

(Paddy Dignam listens with visible effort, thinking, his tailstiffpointed, his ears cocked.)

PADDY DIGNAM: Pray for the repose of his soul.

(He worms down through a coal hole, his brown habit trailing its tether over rattling pebbles. After him toddles an obese grandfather rat on fungus turtle paws under a grey carapace. Dignam's voice, muffled, is heard baying under ground: Dignam's dead and gone below. Tom Rochford, robinredbreasted, in cap and breeches, jumps from his two-columned machine.)

TOM ROCHFORD: (A hand to his breastbone, bows.) Reuben J. A florin I find him. (He fixes the manhole with a resolute stare.) My turn now on. Follow me up to Carlow.

(He executes a daredevil salmon leap in the air and is engulfed in the coalhole. Two discs on the columns wobble eyes of nought. All recedes. Bloom plodges forward again. He stands before a lighted house, listening. The kisses, winging from their bowers, fly about him, twittering, warbling, cooing.)

THE KISSES: (Warbling.) Leo! (Twittering.) Icky licky micky sticky for Leo! (Cooing.) Coo coocoo! Yummyumm Wom worn! (Warbling.) Big comebig! Pirouette! Leopopold! (Twittering.) Leeolee! (Warbling.) O Leo!

(They rustle, flutter upon his garments, alight, bright giddyflecks, silvery sequins.)

BLOOM: A man's touch. Sad music. Church music. Perhaps here.

(Zoe Higgins, a young whore in a sapphire slip, closed with three bronze buckles, a slim black velvet fillet round her throat, nods, trips down the steps and accosts him.)

ZOE: Are you looking for someone? He's inside with his friend.

BLOOM: Is this Mrs Mack's?

ZOE: No, eightyone. Mrs Cohen's. You might go farther and fare worse. Mother Slipperslapper. (Familiarly.) She's on the job herself tonight with the vet, her tipster, that gives her all the winners and pays for her son in Oxford. Working overtime but her luck's turned today. (Suspiciously.) You're not his father, are you?

BLOOM: Not I!

ZOE: You both in black. Has little mousey any tickles tonight?

(His skin, alert, feels her fingertips approach. A hand slides over his left thigh.)

ZOE: How's the nuts?

BLOOM: Off side. Curiously they are on the right. Heavier I suppose. One in a million my tailor, Mesias, says.

ZOE: (In sudden alarm.) You've a hard chancre.

BLOOM: Not likely.

ZOE: I feel it.

(Her hand slides into his left trouser pocket and brings out a hard black shrivelled potato. She regards it and Bloom with dumb moist lips.)

BLOOM: A talisman. Heirloom.

ZOE: For Zoe? For keeps? For being so nice, eh?

(She puts the potato greedily into a pocket, then links his arm, cuddling him with supple warmth. He smiles uneasily. Slowly, note by note, oriental music is played. He gazes in the tawny crystal of her eyes, ringed with kohol. His smile softens.)

ZOE: You'll know me the next time.

BLOOM: (Forlornly.) I never loved a dear gazelle but it was sure to.

(Gazelles are leaping, feeding on the mountains. Near are lakes. Round their shores file shadows black of cedargroves. Aroma rises, a strong hairgrowth of resin. It burns, the orient, a sky of sapphire, cleft by the bronze flight of eagles. Under it lies the womancity, nude, white, still, cool, in luxury. A fountain murmurs among damask roses. Mammoth roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes. A wine of shame, lust, blood exudes, strangely murmuring.)

ZOE: (Murmuring singsong with the music, her odalisk lips lusciously smeared with salve of swinefat and rosewater.) Schorach ani wenowach, benoith Hierushaloim.

BLOOM: (Fascinated.) I thought you were of good stock by your accent.

ZOE: And you know what thought did?

(She bites his ear gently with little goldstopped teeth sending on him a cloying breath of stale garlic. The roses draw apart, disclose a sepulchre of the gold of kings and their mouldering bones.)

BLOOM: (Draws back, mechanically caressing her right bub with a flat awkward hand.) Are you a Dublin girl?

ZOE: (Catches a stray hair deftly and twists it to her coil.) No bloody fear. I'm English. Have you a swaggerroot?

BLOOM: (As before.) Rarely smoke, dear. Cigar now and then. Childish device. (Lewdly.) The mouth can be better engaged than with a cylinder of rank weed.

ZOE: Go on. Make a stump speech out of it.

BLOOM: (In workman's corduroy overalls, black gansy with red floating tie and apache cap.) Mankind is incorrigible. Sir Walter Raleigh brought from the new world that potato and that weed, the one a killer of pestilence by absorption, the other a poisoner of the ear, eye, heart, memory, will, understanding, all. That is to say, he brought the poison a hundred years before another person whose name I forget brought the food. Suicide. Lies. All our habits. Why, look at our public life!

(Midnight chimes from distant steeples.)

THE CHIMES: Turn again, Leopold! Lord Mayor of Dublin!

BLOOM: (In alderman's gown and chain.) Electors of Arran Quay, Inns Quay, Rotunda, Mountjoy and North Dock, better run a tramline, I say, from the cattlemarket to the river. That's the music of the future. That's my programme. Cui Bono? But our buccaneering Vanderdeckens in their phantom ship of finance...

AN ELECTOR: Three times three for our future chief magistrate!

(The aurora borealis of the torchlight procession leaps.)

THE TORCH BEARERS: Hooray!

(Several wellknown burgesses, city magnates and freemen of the city shake hands with Bloom and congratulate him. Timothy Harrington, late thrice Lord Mayor of Dublin, imposing in mayoral scarlet, gold chain and white silk tie, confers with councillor Lorcan Sherlock, locum tenens. They nod vigorously in agreement.)

LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: (In scarlet robe with mace, gold mayoral chain and lace white silk scarf) That alder man sir Leo Bloom's speech be printed at the expense of the ratepayers. That the house in which he was born be ornamented with a commemorative tablet and that the thoroughfare hitherto known as Cow Parlour off Cork street be henceforth designated Boulevard Bloom.

COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: Carried unanimously.

BLOOM: (Impassionedly.) These flying Dutchmen or lying Dutchmen as they recline in their upholstered poop, casting dice, what reck they? Machines is their cry, their chimera, their panacea. Laboursaving apparatuses, supplanters, bug-bears, manufactured monsters for mutual murder, hideous hobgoblins produced by a horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted labour. The poor man starves while they are grassing their royal mountain stags or shooting peasants and phartridges in their purblind pomp of pelf and power. But their reign is rover for rever and ever and ev...

(Prolonged applause. Venetian masts, maypoles and festal arches spring up. A streamer bearing the legends Cead Mille Failte and Mah Ttob Melek Israel spans the street. All the windows are thronged with sightseers, chiefly ladies. Along the route the regiments of the royal Dublin Fusiliers, the Kings Own Scottish Boraerers, the Cameron Highlanders and the Welsh Fusiliers, standing to attention, keep back the crowd. Boys from High school are perched on the lampposts, telegraph poles, windowsills, cornices, gutters, chimneypots, railings, rainspouts, whistling and cheering. The pillar of the cloud appears. A fife and drum band is heard in the distance playing the Kol Nidre. The beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and waving oriental palms. The chryselephantine papal standard rises high, surrounded by pennons of the civic flag. The van of the procession appears headed by John Howard Parnell, city marshal, in a chessboard tabard, the Athlone Poursuivant and Ulster King of Arms. They are followed by the Right Honourable Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of Dublin, the lord mayor of Cork, their worships the mayors of Limerick, Galway, Sligo and Watedord, twentyeight Irish representative peers, sirdars, grandees and maharajahs bearing the cloth of estate, the Dublin Metropolitan Fire Brigade, the chapter of the saints of finance in their plutocratic order of precedence, the bishop of Down and Connor His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, His Grace, the most reverend Dr William Alexander archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, the chief rabbi, the presbyterian moderator, the heads of the baptist, anabaptist, methodist and Moravian chapels and the honorary secretary of the society of friends. her them march the guilds and trades and trainbands with flying colours: coopen, bird fanciers, millwrights, newspaper canvassers, law scriveners, masseurs, vintners, trussmakers, chimney sweeps, lard refiners, tabinet and poplin weavers, farriers, Italian warehousemen, church decorators, bootjack manufacturers, undertaken, silk mercers, lapidaries, salesmasters, corkcutters, assessors of fire losses, dyers and cleaners, export bottlers, fellmongers, ticketwriters, heraldic seal engravers, horse repository hands, bullion broken, cricket and archery outfitters, riddlemakers, egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing contractors. After them march gentlemen of the bed chamber Black Rod, Deputy Garter Gold Stick, the master of hone, the lord great chamberlain, the earl marshal, the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen's iron crown, the chalice and bible. Four buglers on foot blow a sennet. Beefeaten reply, winding clarions of welcome. Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears bareheaded, in a crimson velvet mantle trimmed with ermine, bearing Saint Edward's staff the orb and sceptre with the dove, the curtana. He is seated on a milkwhite hone with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with golden heads tall. Wild excitement. The ladies from their balconies throw down rosepetals. The air is perfumed with essences. The men cheer. Bloom's boys run amid the bystanders with branches of hawthorn and wrenbushes.)

BLOOM'S BOYS:

The wren, the wren,

The king of all birds,

Saint Stephen's his day,

Was caught in the furze.

A BLACKSMITH: (Murmurs.) For the Honour of God! And is that Bloom? He scarcely looks thirtyone.

A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: That's the famous Bloom now, the world's greatest reformer. Hats off!

(All uncover their heads. Women whisper eagerly.)

A MILLIONAIRESS: (Richly.) Isn't he simply wonderful?

A NOBLEWOMAN: (Nobly.) All that man has seen!

A FEMINIST: (Masculinely.) And done!

A BELLHANGER: A classic face! He has the forehead of a thinker.

(Bloom's weather. A sunburst appears in the northwest.)

THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: I here present your un doubted emperor president and king chairman, the most serene and potent and very puissant ruler of this realm. God save Leopold the First!

ALL: God save Leopold the First!

BLOOM: (In dalmatic and purple mantle, to the bishop of Down and Connor with dignity.) Thanks, somewhat eminent sir.

WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (In purple stock and shovel hat.) Will you to your power cause law and mercy to be executed in all your judgments in Ireland and territories thereunto belonging?

BLOOM: (Placing his right hand on his testicles, swears.) So may the Creator deal with me. All this I promise to do.

MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Pours a cruse of hair oil over Bloom's head.) Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis. Habemus carneficem. Leopold, Patrick, Andrew, David, George, be thou anointed!

(Bloom assumes a mantle of cloth of gold and puts on a ruby ring. He ascends and stands on the stone of destiny. The representative peers put on at the same time their twentyeight crowns. Joybells ring in Christ church, Saint Patrick's, George's and gay Malahide. Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from all sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs. The peers do homage, one by one, approaching and genuflecting.)

THE PEERS: I do become your liege man of life and limb to earthly worship.

(Bloom holds up his right hand on which sparkles the Koh-i-Noor diamond. His palfrey neighs. Immediate silence. Wireless intercontinental and interplanetary transmitters are set for reception of message.)

BLOOM: My subjects! We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we have this day repudiated our former spouse and have bestowed our royal hand upon the princess Selene, the splendour of night.

(The former morganatic spouse of Bloom is hastily removed in the Black Maria. The princess Selene, in moon blue robes, a silver crescent on her head, descends from a Sedan chair borne by two giants. An outburst of cheering.)

JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: (Raises the royal standard.) Illustrious Bloom! Successor to my famous brother!

BLOOM: (Embraces John Howard Parnell.) We thank you from our heart, John, for this right royal welcome to green Erin, the promised land of our common ancestors.

(The freedom of the city is presented to him embodied in a charter. The keys of Dublin, crossed on a crimson cushion, are given to him. He shows all that he is wearing green socks.)

TOM KERNAN: You deserve it, your honour.

BLOOM: On this day twenty years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith. Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his lines with telling effect. Half a league onward! They charge! All is lost now! Do we yield? No! We drive them headlong! Lo! We charge! Deploying to the left our light horse swept across the heights of Plevna and, uttering their warcry, Bonafide Sabaoth, sabred the Saracen gunners to a man.

THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: Hear! Hear!

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: There's the man that got away James Stephens.

A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: Bravo!

AN OLD RESIDENT: You're a credit to your country, sir, that's what you are.

AN APPLEWOMAN: He's a man like Ireland wants.

BLOOM: My beloved subjects, a new era is about to dawn. I, Bloom, tell you verily it is even now at hand. Yea, on the word of a Bloom, ye shall ere long enter into the golden city which is to be, the new Bloomusalem in the Nova Hibernia of the future.

(Thirtytwo workmen wearing rosettes, from all the counties of Ireland, under the guidance of Derwan the builder construct the new Bloomusalem. It is a colossal edifice, with crystal roof built in the shape of a huge pork kidney, containing forty thousand rooms. In the course of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished. Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds. Numerous houses are razed to the ground. The inhabitants are lodged in barrels and boxes, all marked in red with the letters: L. B. Several paupers fall from a ladder. A part of the walls of Dublin, crowded with loyal sightseers, collapses.)

THE SIGHTSEERS: (Dying) Morituri te salutant. (They die.)

(A man in a brown macintosh springs up through a trap-door. He points an elongated finger at Bloom.)

THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH: Don't you believe a word he Says. That man is Leopold M'Intosh, the notorious fireraiser. His real name is Higgins.

BLOOM: Shoot him! Dog of a christian! So much for M'Intosh!

(A cannonshot. The man in the macintosh disappears. Bloom with his sceptre strikes down poppies. The instantaneous deaths of many powerful enemies, graziers, members of parliament, members of standing committees, are reported. Bloom's bodyguard distribute Maundy money, commemoration medals, loaves and fishes, temperance badges, expensive Henry Clay cigars, free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives, in sealed envelopes tied with gold thread, butter scotch, pineapple rock, billets doux in the form of cocked hats, readymade suits, porringers of toad in the hole, bottles of Jeyes' Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days' indulgences, spurious coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, season tickets available for all tram lines, coupons of the royal and privileged Hungarian lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of the World's Twelve Worst Books: Froggy and Fritz (politic), Care of the Baby (infantilic), So Meals for 7/6 (culinic), Was Jesus a Sun Myth? (historic), Expel that Pain (medic), Infant's Compendium of the Universe (cosmic), Let's All Chortle (hilaric), Canvasser's Vade Mecum (journalic), love-letters of Mother Assistant (erotic), Who's Who in Space (astric), Songs that Reached Our Heart (melodic), Pennywise's Way to Wealth (parsimonic). A general rush and scramble. Women press forward to touch the hem of Bloom's robe. The lady Gwendolen Dubedat bursts through the throng, leaps on his horse and kisses him on both cheeks amid great acclamation. A magnesium flashlight photograph is taken. Babes and sucklings are held up.)

THE WOMEN: Little father! Little father!

THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS:

Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home,

Cakes in his pocket for Leo alone.

(Bloom, bending down, pokes Baby Boardman gently in the stomach.)

BABY BOARDMAN: (Hiccups, curdled milk flowing from his mouth.) Hajajaja.

BLOOM: (Shaking hands with a blind stripling.) My more than Brother! (Placing his arms round the shoulders of an old couple.) Dear old friends! (He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls.) Peep! Bopeep! (He wheels twins in a perambulator.) Ticktacktwo wouldyousetashoe? (He performs juggler's tricks, draws red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his mouth.) Roygbiv. 32 feet per second. (He consoles a widow.) Absence makes the heart grow younger. (He dances the Highland fling with grotesque antics.) Leg it, ye devils! (He kisses the bedsores of a palsied veteran.) Honourable wounds! (He trips up a fat policeman.) U.p.: up. U.p.: up. (He whispers in the ear of a blushing waitress and laughs kindly.) Ah, naughty, naughty! (He eats a raw turnip offered him by Maurice Butterly, farmer.) Fine! Splendid! (He refuses to accept three shillings offered him by Joseph Hynes, journalist.) My dear fellow, not at all! (He gives his coat to a beggar.) Please accept. (He takes part in a stomach race with elderly male and female cripples.) Come on, boys! Wriggle it, girls!

THE CITIZEN: (Choked with emotion, brushes aside a tear in his emerald muffler.) May the good God bless him!

(The rams' horns sound for silence. The standard of Zion is hoisted.)

BLOOM: (Uncloaks impressively, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper and reads solemnly.) Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom Kippur Hanukah Ros chaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim Meshuggah Talith.

(An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry, assistant town clerk.)

JIMMY HENRY: The Court of Conscience is now open. His Most Catholic Majesty will now administer open air justice. Free medical and legal advice, solution of doubles and other problems. All cordially invited. Given at this our loyal city of Dublin in the year I of the Paradisiacal Era.

PADDY LEONARD: What am I to do about my rates and taxes?

BLOOM: Pay them, my friend.

PADDY LEONARD: Thank you.

NOSEY FLYNN: Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance?

BLOOM: (Obdurately.) Sirs, take notice that by the law of torts you are bound over in your own recognisances for six months in the sum of five pounds.

J.J. O'MOLLY A Daniel did I say? Nay! A Peter O'Brien!

NOSEY FLYNN: Where do I draw the five pounds?

PISSER BURKE: For bladder trouble?

BLOOM:

CHRIS CALLINAN: What is the parallax of the subsolar ecliptic of Aldebaran?

BLOOM: Pleased to hear from you, Chris. K. II.

JOE HYNES: Why aren't you in uniform?

BLOOM: When my progenitor of sainted memory wore the uniform of the Austrian despot in a dank prison where was yours?

BEN: DOLLARD: Pansies?

BLOOM: Embellish (beautify) suburban gardens.

BEN: DOLLARD: When twins arrive?

BLOOM: Father (pater, dad) starts thinking.

LARRY O'ROURKE: An eight day licence for my new premises. You remember me, sir Leo, when you were in number seven. I'm sending around a dozen of stout for the missus.

BLOOM: (Coldly.) You have the advantage of me. Lady Bloom accepts no presents.

CROFTON: This is indeed a festivity.

BLOOM: (Solemnly.) You call it a festivity. I call it a sacrament.

ALEXANDER KEYES: When will we have our own house of keys?

BLOOM: I stand for the reform of municipal morals and the plain ten commandments. New worlds for old. Union of all, jew, moslem and gentile. Three acres and a cow for all children of nature. Saloon motor hearses. Compulsory manual labour for all. All parks open to the public day and night. Electric dishscrubbers. Tuberculosis, lunacy, war and mendicancy must now cease. General amnesty, weekly carnival, with masked licence, bonuses for all, esperanto the universal brotherhood. No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical impostors. Free money, free love and a free lay church in a free lay state.

O'MADDEN BURKE: Free fox in a free henroost.

DAVY BYRNE: (Yawning.) Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach!

BLOOM: Mixed races and mixed marriage.

LENEHAN: What about mixed bathing?

(Bloom explains to those near him his schemes for social regeneration. All agree with him. The keeper of the Kildare Street Museum appears, dragging a lorry on which are the shaking statues of several naked goddesses, Venus Callipyge, Venus Pandemos Venus Metempsychosis, and plaster figures, also naked, representing the new nine muses, Commerce, Operatic Music, Amor Publicity, Manufacture, liberty of Speech, Plural Voting, Gastronomy, Private Hygiene, Seaside Concert Entertainments, Painless Obstetrics and Astronomy for the People.)

FATHER FARLEY: He is an episcopalian, an agnostic, an any thingarian seeking to overthrow our holy faith.

MRS RIORDAN: (Tears up her will.) I'm disappointed in you! You bad man!

MOTHER GROGAN: (Removes her boot to throw it at Bloom.) You beast! You abominable person!

NOSEY FLYNN: Give us a tune, Bloom. One of the old sweet songs.

BLOOM: (With rollicking humour.)

I vowed that I never would leave her,

She turned out a cruel deceiver.

With my tooraloom tooraloom tooralcom tooraloom.

HOPPY HOLOHAN: Good old Bloom! There's nobody like him after all.

PADDY LEONARD: Stage Irishman!

BLOOM: What railway opera is like a tramline in Gibraltar? The Rows of Casteele. (Laughter.)

LENEHAN: Plagiarist! Down with Bloom!

THE VEILED SIBYL: (Enthusiastically.) I'm a Bloomite and I glory in it. I believe in him in spite of all. I'd give my life for him, the funniest man on earth.

BLOOM: (Winks at the bystanders.) I bet she's a bonny lassie.

THEODORE PUREFOY: (In fishing cap and oilskin jacket.) He employs a mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of nature.

THE VEILED SIBYL: (Stabs herself.) My hero god! (She dies.)

(Many most attractive and enthusiastic women also commit suicide by stabbing, drowning, drinking prussic acid, aconite, arsenic, opening their veins, refusing food, casting themselves under steamrollers, from the top of Nelson's Pillar, into the great vat of Guinness's brewery, asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads in gas ovens, hanging themselves in stylish garters, leaping from windows of different storeys.)

ALEXANDER J. DOWIE: (Violently.) Fellowchristians and antiBloomites, the man called Bloom is from the roots of hell, a disgrace to christian men. A fiendish libertine from his earliest years this stinking goat of Mendes gave precocious signs of infantile debauchery recalling the cities of the plain, with a dissolute granddam. This vile hypocrite, bronzed with infamy, is the white bull mentioned in the Apocalypse. A worshipper of the Scarlet Woman, intrigue is the very breath of his nostrils. The stake faggots and the caldron of boiling oil are for him. Caliban!

THE MOB: Lynch him! Roast him! He's as bad as Parnell was. Mr Fox!

(Mother Grogan throws her boot at Bloom. Several shopkeepers from upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, sheeps' tails, odd pieces of fat.)

BLOOM: (Excitedly.) This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke again. By heaven, I am guiltless as the unsunned snow! It was my brother Henry. He is my double. He lives in number 2 Dolphin's Barn. Slander, the viper, has wrongfully accused me. Fellowcountrymen, sgenl inn ban bata coisde gan capall. I call on my old friend, Dr Malachi Mulligan, sex specialist to give medical testimony on my behalf.

DR MULLIGAN: (In motor jerkin, green motoroggles on his brow.) Dr Bloom is bisexually abnormal. He has recently escaped from Dr Eustace's private asylum for demented gentlemen. Born out of bedlock hereditary epilepsy is present, the consequence of unbridled lust. Traces of elephantiasis have been discovered among his ascendants. There are marked symptoms of chronic exhibitionism. Ambidexterity is also latent. He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and has metal teeth. In consequence of a family complex he has temporarily lost his memory and I believe him to be more sinned against than sinning. I have made a pervaginal examination and, after application of the acid test to 5427 anal, axillary, pectoral and pubic hairs, I declare him to be virgo intacta.

(Bloom holds his high grade hat over his genital organs.)

DR MADDEN: Hypsospadia is also marked. In the interest of coming generations I suggest that the parts affected should be preserved in spirits of wine in the national teratological museum.

DR CROTTHERS: I have examined the patient's urine. It is albuminoid. Salivation is insufficient, the patellar reflex intermittent.

DR PUNCH COSTELLO: The fetor judaicus is most perceptible.

DR DIXON: (Reads a bill of health.) Professor Bloom is a finished example of the new womanly man. His moral nature is simple and lovable. Many have found him a dear man, a dear person. He is a rather quaint fellow on the whole, coy though not feeble-minded in the medical sense. He has written a really beautiful letter, a poem in itself, to the court missionary of the Reformed Priests' Protection Society which clears up everything. He is practically a total abstainer and I can affirm that he sleeps on a straw litter and eats the most Spartan food, cold dried grocer's peas. He wears a hairshirt winter and summer and scourges himself every Saturday. He was, I understand, at one time a firstclass misdemeanant in Glencree reformatory. Another report states that he was a very posthumous child. I appeal for clemency in the name of the most sacred word our vocal organs have ever been called upon to speak. He is about to have a baby.

(General commotion and compassion. Women faint. A wealthy American makes a street collection for Bloom. Gold and silver coins, bank cheques, banknotes, jewels, treasury bonds, maturing bills of exchange, I.O.U.s, wedding rings' watch-chains, lockets, necklaces and bracelets are rapidly collected.)

BLOOM: O, I so want to be a mother.

MRS THORNTON: (In nursetender's gown.) Embrace me tight, dear. You'll be soon over it. Tight, dear.

(Bloom embraces her tightly and bears eight male yellow and white children. They appear on a redcarpeted staircase adorned with expensive plants. All are handsome, with valuable metallic faces, wellmade, respectably dressed and wellconducted, speaking five modern languages fluently and interested in various arts and sciences. Each has his name printed in legible letters on his shirtfront: Nasodoro, Goldfinger, Chrysostomos, Maindorée, Silversmile, Silberselber Vifargent, Panargros. They are immediately appointed to positions of high public trust in several different countries as managing directors of banks, traffic managers of railways, chairmen of limited liability companies, vice chairmen of hotel syndicates.)

A VOICE: Bloom, are you the Messiah ben Joseph or ben David?

BLOOM: (Darkly.) You have said it.

BROTHER BUZZ: Then perform a miracle.

BANTAM LYONS: Prophesy who will win the Saint Leger.

(Bloom walks on a net, covers his left eye with his left ear, passes through several walls, climbs Nelson's Pillar, hangs from the the ledge by his eyelids, eats twelve dozen oysters (shells included), heals several sufferers from kings evil, contracts his face so as to resemble many historical personages, lord Beaconsfield, lord Byron, Wat Tyler, Moses of Egypt, Moses Maimonides, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry Irving, Rip van Winkle, Rossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, eclipses the sun by extending his little finger.)

BRINI, PAPAL NUNCIO: (In papal zouave's uniform, steel cuirasses as breastplate, armplates, thighplates, legplates, large profane moustaches and brown paper mitre.) Leopoldi autem generatio. Moses begat Noah and Noah begat Eunuch and Eunuch begat O'Halloran and O'Halloran begat Guggenheim and Guggenheim begat Agendath and Agendath begat Netaim and Netaim begat Le Hirsch and Le Hirsch begat Jesurum and Jesurum begat MacKay and MacKay begat Ostrolopsky and Ostrolopsky begat Smerdoz and Smerdoz begat Weiss and Weiss begat Schwarz and Schwarz begat Adrianopoli and Adrianopoli began Aranjuez and Aranjuez begat Lewy Lawson and Lewy Lawson begat Ichabudonosor and Ichabudonosor begat O'Donnell Magnus and O'Donnell Magnus begat Christbaum and Christbaum begat Ben Maimun and Ben Maimun begat Dusty Rhodes and Dusty Rhodes begat Benamor and Benamor begat Jones-Smith and Jones-Smith begat Savorgnanovich and Savorgnanovich begat Jasperstone and Jasperstone begat Vingtetunieme and Vingtetunieme begat Szombathely and Szombathely begat Virag and Virag begat Bloom et vocabitur nomen eius Emmanuel.

A DEADHAND: (Writes on the wall.) Bloom is a cod.

A CRAB: (In bush ranger's kit.) What did you do in the cattlecreep behind Kilbarrack?

A FEMALE INFANT: (Shakes a rattle.) And under Ballybough bridge?

A HOLLYBUSH: And in the devil's glen?

BLOOM: (Blushes furiously all over from front to nates, three tears falling from his left eye.) Spare my past.

THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: (In bodycoats, kneebreeches, with Donnybrook fair shillelaghs.) Sjambok him!

(Bloom with asses' ears seats himself in the pillory with crossed arms, his feet protruding. He whistles Don Giovanni, a cenar teco. Artane orphans, joining hands, caper round him. Girls of the Prison Gate Mission, joining hands, caper round in the opposite direction.)

THE ARTANE ORPHANS:

HORNBLOWER: (In ephod and huntingcap, announces.) And he shall carry the sins of the people to Azazel, the spirit which is in the wilderness, and to Lilith, the nighthag. And they shall stone him and defile him, yea, all from Agendath Netaim and from Mizraim, the land of Ham.

(All the people cast soft pantomime stones at Bloom. Many bonafide travellers and ownerless dogs come near him and defile him. Mastiansky and Citron approach in gaberdines, wearing long earlocks. They wag their beards at Bloom.)

MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: Belial! Laemlein of Istria! the false Messiah! Abulafia!

(George S. Mesias, Bloom's tailor, appears, a tailor's goose under his arm, presenting a bill.)

MESIAS: To alteration one pair trousers eleven shillings.

BLOOM: (Rubs his hands cheerfully.) Just like old times. Poor Bloom!

(Reuben J. Dodd, black bearded Iscariot, bad shepherd, bearing on his shoulders the drowned corpse of his son, approaches the pillory.)

REUBEN J. :(Whispers hoarsely.) The squeak is out. A split is gone for the flatties. Nip the first rattler.

THE FIRE BRIGADE: Pflaap!

BROTHER BUZZ: (Invests Bloom in a yellow habit with embroidery of painted flames and high pointed hat. He places a bag of gunpowder round his neck and hands him over to the civil power, saying.) Forgive him his trespasses.

(Lieutenant Myers of the Dublin Fire Brigade by general request sets fire to Bloom. Lamentations.)

THE CITIZEN: Thank heaven!

BLOOM: (In a seamless garment marked I. H. S. stands upright amid phoenix flames.) Weep not for me, O daughters of Erin.

(He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning. The daughters of Erin, in black garments with lace prayerbooks and long lighted candles in their hands, kneel down and pray.)

THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN:

(A choir of six hundred voices, conducted by Mr Vincent O'Brien, sings the Alleluia chorus, accompanied on the organ by Joseph Glynn. Bloom becomes mute, shrunken, carbonised.)

ZOE: Talk away till you're black in the face.

BLOOM: (In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in the band, dusty brogues, an emigrant's red handkerchief bundle in his hand, leading a black bogoak pig by a sugaun, with a smile in his eye.) Let me be going now, woman of the house, for by all the goats in Connemara I'm after having the father and mother of a bating. (With a tear in his eye.) All insanity. Patriotism, sorrow for the dead, music, future of the race. To be or not to be. Life's dream is o'er. End it peacefully. They can live on. (He gazes far away mournfully.) I am ruined. A few pastilles of aconite. The blinds drawn. A letter. Then lie back to rest. (He breathes softly.) No more. I have lived. Fare. Farewell.

ZOE: (Stiffly, her finger in her neckfillet.) Honest? Till the next time. (She sneers.) Suppose you got up the wrong side of the bed or came too quick with your best girl. O, I can read your thoughts.

BLOOM: (Bitterly.) Man and woman, love, what is it? A cork and bottle.

ZOE: (In sudden sulks.) I hate a rotter that's insincere. Give a bleeding whore a chance.

BLOOM: (Repentantly.) I am very disagreeable. You are a necessary evil. Where are you from? London?

ZOE: (Glibly.) Hog's Norton where the pigs play the organs. I'm Yorkshire born. (She holds his hand which is feeling for her nipple.) I say, Tommy Tittlemouse. Stop that and begin worse. Have you cash for a short time? Ten shillings?

BLOOM: (Smiles, nods slowly.) More, houri, more.

ZOE: And more's mother? (She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws.) Are you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola? Come and I'll peel off.

BLOOM: (Feeling his occiput dubiously with the unparalleled embarrassment of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her peeled pears.) Somebody would be dreadfully jealous if she knew. The greeneyed monster. (Earnestly.) You know how difficult it is. I needn't tell you.

ZOE: (Flattered.) What the eye can't see the heart can't grieve for. (She pats him.) Come.

BLOOM: Laughing witch! The hand that rocks the cradle.

ZOE: Babby!

BLOOM: (In babylinen and pelisse, bigheaded, with a caul of dark hair, fixes big eyes on her fluid slip and counts its bronze buckles with a chubby finger, his moist tongue tolling and lisping.) One two tlee: tlee tlwo tlone.

THE BUCKLES Love me. Love me not. Love me.

ZOE: Silent means consent. (With little parted talons she captures his hand, her forefinger giving to his palm the pass touch of secret monitor, luring him to doom.) Hot hands cold gizzard.

(He hesitates amid scents, music, temptations. She leads him towards the steps, drawing him by the odour of her armpits, the vice of her painted eyes, the rustle of her slip in whose sinuous folds lurks the lion reek of all the male brutes that have possessed her.)

THE MALE BRUTES: (Exhaling sulphur of rut and dung and ramping in their loosebox, faintly roaring, their drugged heads swaying to and fro.) Good!

(Zoe and Bloom reach the doorway where two sister whores are seated. They examine him curiously from under their pencilled brows and smile to his hasty bow. He trips awkwardly.)

ZOE: (Her lucky hand instantly saving him.) Hoopsa! Don't fall upstairs.

BLOOM: The just man falls seven times. (He stands aside at the threshold.) After you is good manners.

ZOE: Ladies first, gentlemen after.

(She crosses the threshold. He hesitates. She turns and, holding out her hands, draws him over. He hops. On the an tiered rack of the hall hang a man's hat and waterproof Bloom uncovers himself but, seeing them, frowns, then smiles, preoccupied. A door on the return landing is thrown open. A man in purple shirt and grey trousers, brownsocked, passes with an apes gait, his bald head and goatee beard upheld, hugging a full waterjugjar his twotailed black braces dangling at heels. Averting his face quickly Bloom bends to examine on the halltable the spaniel eyes of a running fox: then, his lifted head sniffing, follows Zoe into the musicroom. A shade of mauve tissuepaper dims the light of the chandelier. Round and round a moth flies, colliding, escaping. The floor is covered with an oilcloth mosaic of jade and azure and cinnabar rhomboids. Footmarks are stamped over it in all senses, heel to heel, heel to hollow, toe to toe, feet locked, a morris of shuffling feet without body phantoms, all in a scrimmage higgledypiggledy. The walls are tapes-tried with a paper of yewfronds and clear glades. In the grate is spread a screen of peacock feathers. Lynch squats crosslegged on the hearth rug of matted hair, his cap back to the front. With a wand he beats time slowly. Kitty Ricketts, a bony pallid whore in navy costume, doeskin gloves rolled back from a coral wristlet, a chain purse in her hand, sits perched on the edge of the table swinging her leg and glancing at herself in the gilt mirror over the mantelpiece. A tag of her corset lace hangs slightly below her jacket. Lynch indicates mockingly the couple at the piano.)

KITTY: (Coughs behind her hand.) She's a bit imbecilic. (She signs with a waggling forefinger.) Blemblem. (Lynch lifts up her skirt and white petticoat with the wand. She settles them down quickly.) Respect yourself. (She hiccups, then bends quickly her sailor hat under which her hair glows, red with henna.) O, excuse!

ZOE: More limelight, Charley. (She goes to the chandelier and turns the gas full cock.)

KITTY: (Peers at the gasjet.) What ails it tonight?

LYNCH: (Deeply.) Enter a ghost and hobgoblins.

ZOE: Clap on the back for Zoe.

(The wand in Lynch's hand flashes: a brass poker. Stephen stands at the pianola on which sprawl his hat and ashplant. With two fingers he repeats once more the series of empty fifths. Florry Talbot, a blond feeble goosefat whore in a tatterdemalion gown of mildewed strawberry, lolls spreadeagle in the sofa corner, her limp forearm pendent over the bolster, listening. A heavy stye droops over her sleepy eyelid.)

KITTY: (Hiccups again with a kick of her horsed foot.) O, excuse!

ZOE: (Promptly.) Your boy's thinking of you. Tie a knot on your shift.

(Kitty Ricketts bends her head. Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over her shoulder, back, arm, chair to the ground. Lynch lifts the curled caterpillar on his wand. She snakes her neck, nestling. Stephen glances behind at the squatted figure with its cap back to the front.)

STEPHEN: As a matter of fact it is of no importance whether Benedetto Marcello found it or made it. The rite is the poet's rest. It may be an old hymn to Demeter or also illustrate Cla enarrant gloriam Domini. It is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and mixolydian and of texts so divergent as priests haihooping round David's that is Circe's or what am I saying Ceres' altar and David's tip from the stable to his chief bassoonist about his almightiness. Mais, nom de nom, that is another pair of trousers. Jetez la gourme. Faut que jeunesse se passe. (He stops, points at Lynch's cap, smiles, laughs.) Which side is your knowledge bump?

THE CAP: (With saturnine spleen.) Bah! It is because it is. Woman's reason. Jewgreek is greekjew. Extremes meet. Death is the highest form of life. Bah!

STEPHEN: You remember fairly accurately all my errors, boasts, mistakes. How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? Whetstone!

THE CAP: Bah!

STEPHEN: Here's another for you. (He frowns.) The reason is because the fundamental and the dominant are separated by the greatest possible interval which .

THE CAP: Which? Finish. You can't.

STEPHEN: (With on effort.) Interval which. Is the greatest possible ellipse. Consistent with. The ultimate return. The octave. Which.

THE CAP: Which?

(Outside the gramophone begins to blare The Holy City.)

STEPHEN: (Abruptly.) What went forth to the ends of the world to traverse not itself. God, the sun, Shakespeare, a commercial traveller, having itself traversed in reality itself, becomes that self. Wait a moment. Wait a second. Damn that fellow's noise in the street. Self which it itself was ineluctably preconditioned to become. Ecco!

LYNCH: (With a mocking whinny of laughter grins at Bloom and Zoe Higgins.) What a learned speech, eh?

ZOE: (Briskly.) God help your head, he knows more than you have forgotten.

(With obese stupidity Florry Talbot regards Stephen.)

FLORRY They say the last day is coming this summer.

KITTY: No!

ZOE: (Explodes in laughter.) Great unjust God!

FLORRY: (Offended.) Well, it was in the papers about Anti christ. O, my foot's tickling.

(Ragged barefoot newsboys, jogging a wagtail kite, patterpast, yelling.)

THE NEWSBOYS: Stop press edition. Result of the rockinghorse races. Sea serpent in the royal canal. Safe arrival of Antichrist.

(Stephen turns and sees Bloom.)

STEPHEN: A time, times and half a time.

(Reuben J. Antichrist, wanderingjew, a clutching hand open on his spine, stumps forward. Across his loins is slung a pilgrims wallet from which protrude promissory notes and dishonoured bills. Aloft over his shoulder he bears a long boatpole from the hook of which the sodden huddled mass of his only son, saved from Liffey waters, hangs from the slack of its breeches. A hobgoblin in the image of Punch Costello, hipshot, crookbacked, hydrocephalic, prognathic with receding forehead and Ally Sloper nose, tumbles in somersaults through the gathering darkness.)

ALL: What?

THE HOBGOBLIN: (His jaws chattering, capers to and fro, goggling his eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping, with outstretched clutching arms, then all at once thrusts his lipless face through the fork of his thighs.) Il vient! C'est moi! L'homme qui rit! L'homme primigene! (He whirls round and round with dervish howls.) Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux! (He crouches juggling. Tiny roulette planets fly from his hands.) Les jeux son! faits! (The planets rush together, uttering crepitant cracks.) Rien n'va plus. (The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up and away. He springs off into vacuum.)

FLORRY: (Sinking into torpor, crosses herself secretly.) The end of the world!

(A female tepid effluvium leaks out from her. Nebulous obscurity occupies space. Through the drifting fog without the gramophone blares over coughs and feetshuffling.)

THE GRAMOPHONE: Jerusalem! Open your gates and sing Hosanna...

(A rocket rushes up the sky and bursts. A white star falls from it, proclaiming the consummation of all things and second coming of Elijah. Along an infinite invisible tight-rope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the World, a two headed octopus in gillies kilts, busby and tartan filibegs, whirls through the murk, head over heels, in the fob of the Three Lugs of Man.)

THE END OF THE WORLD: (With a Scotch accent.) Wha'll dance the keel row, the keel row, the keel row?

(Over the passing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah's voice, harsh as a corncrakes, jars on high. Perspiring in a loose lawn surplice with funnel sleeves he is seen, vergefaced above a rostrum about which the banner of old glory is draped. He thumps the parapet.)

ELIJAH: No yapping, if you please, in this booth. Jake Crane, Creole Sue, Dave Campbell, Abe Kirschner, do your coughing with your mouths shut. Say, I am operating all this trunk line. Boys, do it now. God's time is 12.25. Tell mother you'll be there. Rush your order and you play a slick ace. Join on right here! Book through to eternity junction, the nonstop run. Just one word more. Are you a god or a doggone clod? If the second advent came to Coney Island are we ready? Florry Christ, Stephen Christ, Zoe Christ, Bloom Christ, Kitty Christ, Lynch Christ, it's up to you to sense that cosmic force. Have we cold feet about the cosmos? No. Be on the side of the angels. Be a prism. You have that something within, the higher self. You can rub shoulders with a Jesus, a Gautama, an Ingersoll. Are you all in this vibration? I say you are. You once nobble that, congregation, and a buck joyride to heaven becomes a back number. You got me? It's a lifebrightener, sure. The hottest stuff ever was. It's the whole pie with jam in. It's just the cutest snappiest line out. It is immense, supersumptuous. It restores. It vibrates. I know and I am some vibrator. Joking apart and getting down to bedrock, A. J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? O.K. Seventyseven west sixtyninth street. Got me? That's it. You call me up by sunphone any old time. Bumboosers, save your stamps. (He shouts.) Now then our glory song. All join heartily in the singing. Encore! (He sings.) Jeru...

THE GRAMOPHONE: (Drowning his voice.) Whorusalaminyour highhohhhh. (The disc rasps gratingly against the needle.)

THE THREE' WHORES: (Covering their ears, squawk.) Ahhkkk!

ELIJAH: (In rolledup shirtsleeves, black in the face, shouts at the top of his voice, his arms uplifted.) Big Brother up there, Mr President, you hear what I done just been saying to you. Certainly, I sort of believe strong in you, Mr President. I certainly am thinking now Miss Higgins and Miss Ricketts got religion way inside them. Certainly seems to me I don't never see no wusser scared female than the way you been, Miss Florry, just now as I done seed you. Mr President, you come long and help me save our sisters dear. (He winks at his audience.) Our Mr President, he twig the whole lot and he ain't saying nothing.

KITTY-KATE: I forgot myself. In a weak moment I erred and did what I did on Constitution hill. I was confirmed by the bishop. My mother's sister married a Montmorency. It was a working plumber was my ruination when I was pure.

ZOE-FANNY: I let him larrup it into me for the fun of it.

FLORRY-TERESA: It was in consequence of a portwine beverage on top of Hennessy's three stars I was guilty with Whelan when he slipped into the bed.

STEPHEN: In the beginning was the word, in the end the world without end. Blessed be the eight beatitudes.

(The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch in white surgical students' gowns, four abreast, goosestepping, tramp fast past in noisy marching.)

THE BEATITUDES: (Incoherently.) Beer beef battledog buybull businum barnum buggerum bishop.

LYSTER: (In quakergrey kneebreeches and broadbrimmed hat, says discreetly.) He is our friend. I need not mention names. Seek thou the light.

(He corantos by. Best enters in hairdresser attire, shinily laundered, his locks in curlpapers. He leads John Eglinton who wears a mandarin's kimono of Nankeen yellow, lizard-lettered, and a high pagoda hat.)

BEST: (Smiling, lifts the hat and displays a shaven poll from the crown of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with an orange topknot.) I was just beautifying him, don't you know. A thing of beauty, don't you know. Yeats says, or I mean, Keats says.

JOHN EGLINTON: (Produces a greencapped dark lantern and flashes it towards a corner; with carping accent.) Esthetics and cosmetics are for the boudoir. I am out for truth. Plain truth for a plain man. Tanderagee wants the facts and means to get them.

(In the cone of the search light behind the coalscuttle, ollave, holyeyed, the bearded figure of Mananaan MacLir broods, chin on knees. He rises slowly. A cold seawind blows from his druid mantle. About his head writhe eels and elvers. He is encrusted with weeds and shells. His right hand holds a bicycle pump. His left hand grasps a huge crayfish by its two talons.)

MANANAAN MACLIR: (With a voice of waves.) Aum! Hek! Wal! Ak! Lub! Mor! Ma! White yoghin of the Gods. Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos. (With a voice of whistling seawind.) Punarjanam patsypunjaub! I won't have my leg pulled. It has been said by one: beware the left, the cult of Shakti. (With a cry of stormbirds.) Shakti, Shiva! Dark hidden Father! (He smites with his bicycle pump the crayfish in his left hand. On its co-operative dial glow the twelve signs of the zodiac. He wails with the vehemence of the ocean.) Aum! Baum! Pyjaum! I am the light of the homestead, I am the dreamery creamery butter.

(A skeleton judas hand strangles the light. The green light wanes to mauve. The gasjet wails whistling.)

THE GASJET: Pooah! Pfuiiiiii!

(Zoe runs to the chandelier and, crooking her leg, adjusts the mantle.)

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

LYNCH: (Tossing a cigarette on to the table.) Here.

ZOE: (Her head perched aside in mock pride.) Is that the way to hand the pot to a lady? (She stretches up to light the cigarette over the flame, twirling it slowly, showing the brown tufts of her armpits. Lynch with his poker lifts boldly a side of her slip. Bare from her garters up her flesh appears under the sapphire a nixie's green. She puffs calmly at her cigarette.) Can you see the beauty spot of my behind?

LYNCH: I'm not looking.

ZOE: (Makes sheep's eyes.) No? You wouldn't do a less thing. Would you suck a lemon?

(Squinting in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom, then twists round towards him, pulling her slip free of the poker. Blue fluid again flows over her flesh. Bloom stands, smiling desirously, twirling his thumbs. Kitty Ricketts licks her middle finger with her spittle and gazing in the mirror, smooths both eyebrows. Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the chimneyflue and struts two steps to the left on gawky pink stilts. He is sausaged into several overcoats and wears a brown macintosh under which he holds a roll of parchment. In his left eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell. On his head is perched an Egyptian pshent. Two quills project over his ears.)

VIRAG: (Heels together bows.) My name is Virag Lipoti, of Szombathely. (He coughs thoughtfully, drily.) Promiscuous nakedness is much in evidence hereabouts, eh? Inadvertently her backview revealed the fact that she is not wearing those rather intimate garments of which you are a particular devotee. The injection mark on the thigh I hope you perceived? Good.

BLOOM: Granpapachi. But...

VIRAG: Number two on the other hand, she of the cherry rouge and coiffeuse white, whose hair owes not a little to our tribal elixir of gopherwood, is in walking costume and tightly staysed by her sit, I should opine. Backbone in front, so to say. Correct me but I always understood that the act so performed by skittish humans with glimpses of lingerie appealed to you in virtue of its exhibitionististicicity. In a word. Hippogriff. Am I right?

BLOOM: She is rather lean.

VIRAG: (Not unpleasantly.) Absolutely! Well observed and those pannier pockets of the skirt and slightly pegtop effect are devised to suggest bunchiness of hip. A new purchase at some monster sale for which a gull has been mulcted. Meretricious finery to deceive the eye. Observe the attention to details of dustspecks. Never put on you tomorrow what you can wear today. Parallax! (With a nervous twitch of his head.) Did you hear my brain go snap? Pollysyllabax!

BLOOM: (An elbow resting in a hand, a forefinger against his cheek.) She seems sad.

VIRAG: (Cynically, his weasel teeth bared yellow, draws down his left eye with a finger and barks hoarsely.) Hoax! Beware of the flapper and bogus mournful. Lily of the alley. All possess bachelor's button discovered by Rualdus Colombus. Tumble her. Columble her. Chameleon. (More genially.) Well then, permit me to draw your attention to item number three. There is plenty of her visible to the naked eye. Observe the mass of oxygenated vegetable matter on her skull. What ho, she bumps! The ugly duckling of the party, longcasted and deep in keel.

BLOOM: (Regretfully.) When you come out without your gun.

VIRAG: We can do you all brands, mild, medium and strong. Pay your money, take your choice. How happy could you be with either...

BLOOM: With?...

VIRAG: (His tongue upcurling.) Lyum! Look. Her beam is broad. She is coated with quite a considerable layer of fat. Obviously mammal in weight of bosom you remark that she has in front well to the fore two protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the noonday soupplate, while on her rere lower down are two additional protuberances, suggestive of potent rectum and tumescent for palpation which leave nothing to be desired save compactness. Such fleshy parts are the product of careful nurture. When coopfattened their livers reach an elephantine size. Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and gumbenjamin swamped down by potions of green tea endow them during their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal blubber. That suits your book, eh? Fleshhotpots of Egypt to hanker after. Wallow in it. Lycopodium. (His throat twitches.) Slapbang! There he goes again.

BLOOM: The stye I dislike.

VIRAG: (Arches his eyebrows.) Contact with a goldring, they say. Argumentum ad feminam, as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece in the consulship of Diplodocus and Ichthyo saurus. For the rest Eve's sovereign remedy. Not for sale. Hire only. Huguenot. (He twitches.) It is a funny sound. (He coughs encouragingly.) But possibly it is only a wart. I presume you shall have remembered what I will have taught you on that head? Wheatenmeal with honey and nutmeg.

BLOOM: (Reflecting.) Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax. This searching ordeal. It has been an unusually fatiguing day, a chapter of accidents. Wait. I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you said .

VIRAG: (Severely, his nose hardhumped, his side eye winking.) Stop twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk. See, you have forgotten. Exercise your mnemotechnic. La causa è santa. Tara. Tara. (Aside.) He will surely remember.

BLOOM: Rosemary also did I understand you to say or will power over parasitic tissues. Then nay no I have an inkling. The touch of a deadhand cures. Mnemo?

VIRAG: (Excitedly.) I say so. I say so. E'en so. Technic. (He taps his parchmentroll energetically.) This book tells you how to act with all descriptive particulars. Consult index for agitated fear of aconite, melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla. Virag is going to talk about amputation. Our old friend caustic. They must be starved. Snip off with horsehair under the denned neck. But, to change the venue to the Bulgar and the Basque, have you made up your mind whether you like or dislike women in male habiliments? (With a dry snigger.) You intended to devote an entire year to the study of the religious problem and the summer months of 1882 to square the circle and win that million. Pomegranate! From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step. Pyjamas, let us say? Or stockingette gusseted knickers, closed? Or, put we the case, those complicated combinations, camiknickers? (He crows derisively.) Keekeereekee!

(Bloom surveys uncertainly the three whores, then gazes at the veiled mauve light, hearing the everflying moth.)

BLOOM: I wanted then to have now concluded. Nightdress was never. Hence this. But tomorrow is a new day will be. Past was is today. What now is will then tomorrow as now was be past yester.

VIRAG: (Prompts into his ear in a pig's whisper.) Insects of the day spend their brief existence in reiterated coition, lured by the smell of the inferiorly pulchritudinous female possessing extendified pudendal verve in dorsal region. Pretty Poll! (His yellow parrotbeak gabbles nasally.) They had a proverb in the Carpathians in or about the year five thousand five hundred and fifty of our era. One tablespoonful of honey will attract friend Bruin more than half a dozen barrels of first choice malt vinegar. Bear's buzz bothers bees. But of this apart. At another time we may resume. We were very pleased, we others. (He coughs and, bending his brow, rubs his nose thoughtfully with a scooping hand.) You shall find that these night insects follow the light. An illusion for remember their complex unadjustable eye. For all these knotty points see the seventeenth book of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L. B. says is the book sensation of the year. Some, to example, there are again whose movements are automatic. Perceive. That is his appropriate sun. Nightbird nightsun nighttown. Chase me, Charley! Buzz!

BLOOM: Bee or bluebottle too other day butting shadow on wall dazed self then me wandered dazed down shirt good job I...

VIRAG: (His face impassive, laughs in a rich feminine key.) Splendid! Spanish fly in his fly or mustard plaster on his dibble. (He gobbles gluttonously with turkey wattles.) Bubbly jock! Bubbly jock! Where are we? Open Sesame! Cometh forth! (He unrolls his parchment rapidly and reads, his glowworm's nose running backwards over the letters which he claws.) Stay, good friend. I bring thee thy answer Redbank oysters will shortly be upon us. I'm the best o'cook. Those succulent bivalves may help us and the truffles of Perigord, tubers dislodged through mister omnivorous porker, were unsurpassed in cases of nervous debility or viragitis. Though they stink yet they sting. (He wags head with cackling raillery.) Jocular. With my eyeglass in my ocular.

BLOOM: (Absently.) Ocularly woman's bivalve case is worse. Always open sesame. The cloven sex. Why they fear vermin, creeping things. Yet Eve and the serpent contradict. Not a historical fact. Obvious analogy to my idea. Serpents too are gluttons for woman's milk. Wind their way through miles of omnivorous forest to sucksucculent her breast dry. Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in Elephantuliasis.

VIRAG: (His mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone.) That the cows with their those distended udders that they have been the known...

BLOOM: I am going to scream. I beg your pardon. Ah? So. (He repeats.) Spontaneously to seek out the saurian's lair in order to entrust their teats to his avid suction. Ant milks aphis. (Profoundly.) Instinct rules the world. In life. In death.

VIRAG: (Head askew, arches his back and hunched wing- shoulders, peers at the moth out of blear bulged eyes, points a homing claw and cries.) Who's Ger Ger? Who's dear Gerald? O, I much fear he shall be most badly burned. Will some pleashe pershon not now impediment so catastrophics mit agitation of firstclass tablenumpkin? (He mews.) Luss puss puss puss! (He sighs, draws back and stares sideways down with dropping underjaw.) Well, well. He doth rest anon. (He snaps his jaws suddenly on the air)

THE MOTH:

(He rushes against the mauve shade flapping noisily.) Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty petticoats.

(From left upper entrance with two sliding steps Henry Flower comes forward to left front centre. He wears a dark mantle and drooping plumed sombrero. He carries a silverstringed inlaid dulcimer and a longstemmed bamboo Jacobs pipe, its clay bowl fashioned as a female head. He wears dark velvet hose and silverbuckled pumps. He has the romantic Saviour's face with flowing locks, thin beard and moustache. His spindlelegs and sparrow feet are those of the tenor Mario, prince of Candia. He settles down his goffered ruffs and moistens his lips with a passage of his amorous tongue.)

HENRY: (In a low dulcet voice, touching the strings of his guitar.) There is a flower that bloometh.

(Virag truculent, his jowl set, stares at the lamp. Grave Bloom regards Zoe's neck. Henry gallant turns with pendent dewlap to the piano.)

STEPHEN: (To himself.) Play with your eyes shut. Imitate pa. Filling my belly with husks of swine. Too much of this. I will arise and go to my. Expect this is the. Steve, thou art in a parlous way. Must visit old Deasy or telegraph. Our interview of this morning has left on me a deep impression. Though our ages. Will write fully tomorrow. I'm partially drunk, by the way. (He touches the keys again.) Minor chord comes now. Yes. Not much however.

(Almidano Artifoni holds out a batonroll of music with vigorous moustachework.)

ARTIFONI Ci rifletta. Lei rovina tutto.

FLORRY Sing us something. Love's old sweet song.

STEPHEN: No voice. I am a most finished artist. Lynch, did I show you the letter about the lute?

FLORRY: (Smirking.) The bird that can sing and won't sing.

(The Siamese twins, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober two Oxford dons with lawnmowers, appear in the window embrasure. Both are masked with Matthew Arnold's face.)

PHILIP SOBER: Take a fool's advice. All is not well. Work it out with the buttend of a pencil, like a good young idiot. Three pounds twelve you got, two notes, one sovereign, two crowns, if youth but knew. Mooney's en ville, Mooney's sur mer, the Moira, Larchet's, Holles street hospital, Burke's. Eh? I am watching you.

PHILIP DRUNK: (Impatiently.) Ah, bosh, man. Go to hell! I paid my way. If I could only find out about octaves. Reduplication of personality. Who was it told me his name? (His lawnmower begins to purr.) Aha, yes. Zoe mou sas agapo. Have a notion I was here before. When was it not Atkinson his card I have somewhere? Mac somebody. Unmack I have it. He told me about, hold on, Swinburne, was it, no?

FLORRY: And the song?

STEPHEN: Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.

FLORRY: Are you out of Maynooth? You're like someone I knew once.

STEPHEN: Out of it now. (To himself.) Clever.

PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER: (Their lawnmowers purring with a rigadoon of grasshalms.) Clever ever. Out of it. Out of it. By the by have you the book, the thing, the ashplant? Yes, there it, yes. Cleverever outofitnow. Keep in condition. Do like us.

ZOE: There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of business with his coat buttoned up. You needn't try to hide, I says to him. I know you've a Roman collar.

VIRAG: Perfectly logical from his standpoint. Fall of man. (Harshly, his pupils waxing.) To hell with the pope! Nothing new under the sun. I am the Virag who disclosed the sex secrets of monks and maidens. Why I left the Church of Rome. Read the Priest, the Woman and the Confessional. Penrose. Flipperty Jippert. (He wriggles.) Woman, undoing with sweet pudor her belt of rushrope, offers her allmoist yoni to man's lingam. Short time after man presents woman with pieces of jungle meat. Woman shows joy and covers herself with featherskins. Man loves her yoni fiercely with big lingam, the stiff one. (He cries.) Coactus volui. Then giddy woman will run about. Strong man grasps woman's wrist. Woman squeals, bites, spucks. Man, now fierce angry, strikes woman's fat yadgana. (He chases his tail.) Piffpaff! Popo! (He stops, sneezes.) Pchp! (He worries his butt.) Prrrrrht!

LYNCH: I hope you gave the good father a penance. Nine glorias for shooting a bishop.

ZOE: (Spouts walrus smoke through her nostrils.) He couldn't get a connection. Only, you know, sensation. A dry rush.

BLOOM: Poor man!

ZOE: (Lightly.) Only for what happened him.

BLOOM: How?

VIRAG: (A diabolic rictus of black luminosity contracting his visage, cranes his scraggy neck forward. He lifts a mooncalf nozzle and howls.) Verfluchte Goim! He had a father, forty fathers. He never existed. Pig God! He had two left feet. He was Judas Iacchias, a Libyan eunuch, the pope's bastard. (He leans out on tortured forepaws, elbows bent rigid, his eye agonising in his flat skullneck and yelps over the mute world.) A son of a whore. Apocalypse.

KITTY: And Mary Shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from Jimmy Pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral.

PHILIP DRUNK: (Gravely.) Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position, Philippe?

PHILIP SOBER: (Gaily.) C'était le sacré pigeon, Philippe.

(Kitty unpins her hat and sets it down calmly, patting her henna hair. And a prettier, a daintier head of winsome curls was never seen on a whores shoulders. Lynch puts on her hat. She whips it off.)

LYNCH: (Laughs.) And to such delights has Metchnikoff inoculated anthropoid apes.

FLORRY (Nods.) Locomotor ataxy.

ZOE: (Gaily.) O, my dictionary.

LYNCH: Three wise virgins.

VIRAG: (Agueshaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his bony epileptic lips.) She sold lovephiltres, whitewax, orange flower. Panther, the Roman centurion, polluted her with his genitories. (He sticks out a flickering phosphorescent scorpion tongue, his hand on his fork.) Messiah! He burst her tympanum. (With gibbering baboon's cries he jerks his hips in the cynical spasm.) Hik! Hek! Hak! Hok! Huk! Kok! Kuk!

(Ben Jumbo Dollard, rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fatpapped, stands forth, his loins and genitals tightened into a pair of black bathing bagslops.)

BEN: POLLARD (Nakkering castanet bones in his huge padded paws, yodels jovially in base barreltone.) When love absorbs my ardent soul.

(The virgins, Nurse Callan and Nurse Quigley, burst through the ringkeepers and the ropes and mob him with open arms.)

THE VIRGINS (Gushingly.) Big Ben! Ben MacChree!

A VOICE Hold that fellow with the bad breeches.

BEN: DOLLARD (Smites his thigh in abundant laughter.) Hold him now.

HENRY: (Caressing on his breast a severed female head, murmurs.) Thine heart, mine love. (He plucks his lutestrings.) When first I saw.

VIRAG: (Sloughing his skins, his multitudinous plumage moulting.) Rats! (He yawns; showing a coalblack throat and closes his jaws by an upward push of his parchment roll.) After having said which I took my departure. Farewell. Fare thee well. Dreck!

(Henry Flower combs his moustache and beard rapidly with a pocketcomb and gives a cows lick to his hair. Steered by his rapier, he glides to the door his wild had slung behind him. Virag reaches the door in two ungainly stilthops, his tail cocked, and deftly claps sideways on the wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with his head.)

THE FLYBILL: K. II. Post No Bills. Strictly confidential. Dr Hy Franks.

HENRY: All is lost now.

(Virag unscrews his head in a trice and holds it under his arm.)

VIRAG'S HEAD Quack!

(Exeunt severally.)

STEPHEN: (Over his shoulder to Zoe.) You would have preferred the fighting parson who founded the protestant error. But beware Antisthenes, the dog sage, and the last end of Anus Heresiarchus. The agony in the closet.

LYNCH: All one and the same God to her.

STEPHEN: (Devoutly.) And Sovereign Lord of all things.

FLORRY (To Stephen.) I'm sure you are a spoiled priest. Or a monk.

LYNCH: He is. A Cardinal's son.

STEPHEN: Cardinal sin. Monks of the screw.

(His Eminence, Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all Ireland, appears in the doorway, dressed in red soutane, sandals and socks. Seven dwarf simian acolytes, also in red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping under it. He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his head. His thumbs are stuck in his armpits and his palms outspread. Round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his breast in a corkscrew cross. Releasing his thumbs, he invokes grace from on high with lace wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp.)

THE CARDINAL:

(He looks at all for a moment, his right eye closed tight, his left cheek puffed out. Then, unable to repress his merriment, he rocks to and fro, ads akimbo, and sings with broad rollicking humour.)

(A multitude of midges swarms over his robe. He scratches himself with crossed arms at his ribs, grimacing, and exclaims.)

I'm suffering the agony of the damned. By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to Jesus those funny little chaps are not unanimous. If they were they'd walk me off the face of the bloody globe.

(His head aslant, he blesses curtly with fore and middle fingers, imparts the Easter kiss and doubleshuffles off comically, swaying his hat from side to side, shrinking quickly to the size of his train bearers. The dwarf acolytes, giggling, peeping, nudging, ogling, Easterkissing, zigzag behind him. His voice is heard mellow from afar, merciful, male, melodious:)

Shall carry my heart to thee,

Shall carry my heart to thee,

And the breath of the balmy night

Shall carry my heart to thee.

(The trick doorhandle turns.)

THE DOORHANDLE: Theeee.

ZOE: The devil is in that door.

(A male form passes down the creaking staircase and is heard taking the waterproof and hat from the rack. Bloom starts forward involuntarily and, half closing the door as he passes, takes the chocolate from his pocket and offers it nervously to Zoe.)

ZOE: (Sniffs his hair briskly.) Hum. Thank your mother for the rabbits. I'm very fond of what I like.

BLOOM: (Hearing a male voice in talk with the whores on the doorstep, pricks his ears.) If it were he? After? Or because not? Or the double event?

ZOE: (Tears open the silverfoil.) Fingers was made before forks. (She breaks off and nibbles a piece, gives a piece to Kitty Ricketts and then turns kittenishly to Lynch.) No objection to French lozenges? (He nods. She taunts him.) Have it now or wait till you get it? (He opens his mouth, his head cocked. She whirls the prize in left circle. His head follows. She whirls it back in right circle. He eyes her.) Catch.

(She tosses a piece. With an adroit snap he catches it and bites it through with a crack.)

KITTY: (Chewing.) The engineer I was with at the bazaar does have lovely ones. Full of the best liqueurs. And the viceroy was there with his lady. The gas we had on the Toft's hobbyhorses. I'm giddy still.

BLOOM: (In Svengali's fur overcoat, with folded arms and Napoleonic forelock, frowns in ventriloquial exorcism with piercing eagle glance towards the door. Then, rigid, with left foot advanced, he makes a swift pass with impelling fingers and gives the sign of past master, drawing his right arm downwards from his left shoulder.) Go, go, go, I conjure you, whoever you are.

(A male cough and tread are heard passing through the mist outside. Blooms features relax. He places a hand in his waistcoat, posing calmly. Zoe offers him chocolate.)

BLOOM: (Solemnly.) Thanks.

ZOE: Do as you're bid. Here.

(A firm heelclacking is heard on the stairs.)

BLOOM: (Takes the chocolate.) Aphrodisiac? But I thought it. Vanilla calms or? Mnemo. Confused light confuses memory. Red influences lupus. Colours affect women's characters, any they have. This black makes me sad. Eat and be merry for tomorrow. (He eats.) Influence taste too, mauve. But it is so long since I. Seems new. Aphro. That priest. Must come. Better late than never. Try truffles at Andrews.

(The door opens. Bella Cohen, a massive whoremistress enters. She is dressed in a threequarter ivory gown, fringed round the hem with tasselled selvedge, and cools herself flirting a black horn fan like Minnie Hauck in Carmen. On her left hand are wedding and keeper rings. Her eyes are deeply carboned. She has a sprouting moustache. Her olive face is heavy, slightly sweated and fullnosed, with orangetainted nostrils. She has lace pendant beryl eardrops.)

BELLA: My word! I'm all of a mucksweat.

(She glances around her at the couples. Then her eyes rest on Bloom with hard insistence. Her lace fan winnows wind towards her heated face, neck and embonpoint. Her falcon eyes glitter.)

THE FAN: (Flirting quickly, then slowly.) Married, I see.

BLOOM: Yes... Partly, I have mislaid .

THE FAN: (Half opening, then closing.) And the missus is master. Petticoat government.

BLOOM: (Looks down with a sheepish grin.) That is so.

THE FAN: (Folding together, rests against her eardrop.) Have you forgotten me?

BLOOM: Yes. No.

THE FAN: (Folded akimbo against her waist.) Is me her was you dreamed before? Was then she him you us since knew? Am all them and the same now we?

(Bella approaches, gently tapping with the fan.)

BLOOM: (Wincing.) Powerful being. In my eyes read that slumber which women love.

THE FAN: (Tapping.) We have met. You are mine. It is fate.

BLOOM: (Cowed.) Exuberant female. Enormously I desiderate your domination. I am exhausted, abandoned, no more young. I stand, so to speak, with an unposted letter bearing the extra regulation fee before the too late box of the general postoffice of human life. The door and window open at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per second according to the law of falling bodies. I have felt this instant a twinge of sciatica in my left glutear muscle. It runs in our family. Poor dear papa, a widower, was a regular barometer from it. He believed in animal heat. A skin of tabby lined his winter waistcoat. Near the end, remembering king David and the Sunamite, he shared his bed with Athos, faithful after death. A dog's spittle, as you probably... (He winces.) Ah!

RICHIE GOULDING: (Bagweighted, passes the door.) Mocking is catch. Best value in Dub. Fit for a prince's liver and kidney.

THE FAN: (Tapping.) All things end. Be mine. Now.

BLOOM: (Undecided.) All now? I should not have parted with my talisman. Rain, exposure at dewfall on the sea rocks, a peccadillo at my time of life. Every phenomenon has a natural cause.

THE FAN: (Points downwards slowly.) You may.

BLOOM: (Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace. ) We are observed.

THE FAN: (Points downwards quickly.) You must.

BLOOM: (With desire, with reluctance.) I can make a true black knot. Learned when I served my time and worked the mail order line for Kellet's. Experienced hand. Every knot says a lot. Let me. In courtesy. I knelt once before today. Ah!

(Bella raises her gown slightly and, steadying her pose, lifts to the edge of a chair a plump buskined hoof and a full pastern, silksocked. Bloom, stifflegged ageing, bends over her hoof and with gentle fingers draws out and in her laces.)

BLOOM: (Murmurs lovingly.) To be a shoefitter in Mansfield's was my love's young dream, the darling joys of sweet buttonhooking, to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so incredibly small, of Clyde Road ladies. Even their wax model Raymonde I visited daily to admire her cobweb hose and stick of rhubarb toe, as worn in Paris.

THE HOOF: Smell my hot goathide. Feel my royal weight.

BLOOM: (Crosslacing.) Too tight?

THE HOOF: If you bungle, Handy Andy, I'll kick your football for you.

BLOOM: Not to lace the wrong eyelet as I did the night of the bazaar dance. Bad luck. Nook in wrong tache of her... person you mentioned. That night she met... Now!

(He knots the lace. Bella places her foot on the floor. Bloom raises his head. Her heavy face, her eyes strike him in mid-brow. His eyes grow dull, darker and pouched, his nose thickens.)

BLOOM: (Mumbles.) Awaiting your further orders, we remain, gentlemen.

BELLO: (With a hard basilisk stare, in a baritone voice.) Hound of dishonour!

BLOOM: (Infatuated.) Empress!

BELLO: (His heavy cheekchops sagging.) Adorer of the adulterous rump!

BLOOM: (Plaintively.) Hugeness!

BELLO: Dungdevourer!

BLOOM: (With sinews semiflexed.) Magnificence.

BELLO: Down! (He taps her on the shoulder with his fan.) Incline feet forward! Slide left foot one pace back. You will fall. You are falling. On the hands down!

BLOOM: (Her eyes upturned in the sign of admiration, closing.) Truffles!

(With a piercing epileptic cry she sinks on all fours, grunting, snuffling, rooting at his feet, then lies, shamming dead with eyes shut tight, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground in the attitude of most excellent master.)

BELLO: (With bobbed hair purple gills, fat moustache rings round his shaven mouth, in mountaineer's puttees, green silverbuttoned coat, sport skirt and alpine hat with moor cock's feather, his hands stuck deep in his breeches pockets, places his heel on her neck and grinds it in.) Feel my entire weight. Bow, bondslave, before the throne of your despot's glorious heels, so glistening in their proud erectness.

BLOOM: (Enthralled, bleats.) I promise never to disobey.

BELLO: (Laughs loudly.) Holy smoke! You little know what's in store for you. I'm the tartar to settle your little lot and break you in! I'll bet Kentucky cocktails all round I shame it out of you, old son. Cheek me, I dare you. If you do tremble in anticipation of heel discipline to be inflicted in gym costume.

(Bloom creeps under the sofa and peers out through the fringe.

ZOE: (Widening her slip to screen her.) She's not here.

BLOOM: (Closing her eyes.) She's not here.

FLORRY (Hiding her with her gown.) She didn't mean it, Mr Bello. She'll be good, sir.

KITTY: Don't be too hard on her, Mr Bello. Sure you won't, ma'amsir.

BELLO: (Coaxingly.) Come, ducky dear. I want a word with you, darling, just to administer correction. Just a little heart to heart talk, sweety. (Bloom puts out her timid head.) There's a good girly now. (Bello grabs her hair violently and drags her forward.) I only want to correct you for your own good on a soft safe spot. How's that tender behind? O, ever so gently, pet. Begin to get ready.

BLOOM: (Fainting.) Don't tear my.

BELLO: (Savagely.) The nosering, the pliers, the bastinado, the hanging hook, the knout I'll make you kiss while the flutes play like the Nubian slave of old. You're in for it this time. I'll make you remember me for the balance of your natural life. (His forehead veins swollen, his face congested.) I shall sit on your ottoman saddleback every morning after my thumping good breakfast of Matterson's fat ham rashers and a bottle of Guinness's porter. (He belches.) And suck my thumping good Stock Exchange cigar while I read the Licensed Victualler's Gazette. Very possibly I shall 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. It will hurt you.

(He twists her arm. Bloom squeaks, turning turtle.)

BLOOM: Don't be cruel, nurse! Don't!

BELLO: (Twisting.) Another!

BLOOM: (Screams.) O, it's hell itself! Every nerve in my body aches like mad!

BELLO: (Shouts.) Good, by the rumping jumping general! That's the best bit of news I heard these six weeks. Here, don't keep me waiting, damn you. (He slaps her face.)

BLOOM: (Whimpers.) You're after hitting me. I'll tell...

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

ZOE: Yes. Walk on him! I will.

FLORRY: I will. Don't be greedy.

KITTY: No, me. Lend him to me.

(The brothel cook, Mrs Keogh, wrinkled, greybearded, in a greasy bib, men's grey and green socks and brogues, flour-smeared, a rollingpin stuck with raw pastry in her bare red arm and hand, appears at the door.)

MRS KEOCH: (Ferociously.) Can I help? (They hold and pinion Bloom.)

BELLO: (Squats, with a grunt, on Bloom's upturned face, puffing cigar-smoke, nursing a fat leg.) I see Keating Clay is elected chairman of the Richmond Asylum and bytheby Guinness's preference shares are at sixteen three quarters. Curse me for a fool that I didn't buy that lot Craig and Gardner told me about. Just my infernal luck, curse it. And that Goddamned outsider Throwaway at twenty to one. (He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom's ear.) Where's that Goddamned cursed ashtray?

BLOOM: (Goaded, buttocksmothered.) O! O! Monsters! Cruel one!

BELLO: Ask for that every ten minutes. Beg, pray for it as you never prayed before. (He thrusts out a figged fist and foul cigar.) Here, kiss that. Both. Kiss. (He throws a leg astride and, pressing with horseman's knees, calls in a hard voice.) Gee up! A cockhorse to Banbury cross. I'll ride him for the Eclipse stakes. (He bends sideways and squeezes his mount's testicles roughly, shouting.) Ho! off we pop! I'll nurse you in proper fashion. (He horserides cockhorse, leaping in the saddle.) The lady goes a pace a pace and the coachman goes a trot a trot and the gentleman goes a gallop a gallop a gallop a gallop.

FLORRY: (Pulls at Bello.) Let me on him now. You had enough. I asked before you.

ZOE: (Pulling at Florry.) Me. Me. Are you not finished with him yet, suckeress?

BLOOM: (Stifling.) Can't.

BELLO: Well, I'm not. Wait. (He holds in his breath.) Curse it. Here. This bung's about burst. (He uncorks himself behind: then, contorting his features, farts loudly.) Take that! (He recorks himself) Yes, by Jingo, sixteen three quarters.

BLOOM: (A sweat breaking out over him.) Not man. (He sniffs.) Woman.

BELLO: (Stands up.) No more blow hot and cold. What you longed for has come to pass. Henceforth you are unmanned and mine in earnest, a thing under the yoke. Now for your punishment frock. You will shed your male garments, you understand, Ruby Cohen? and don the shot silk luxuriously rustling over head and shoulders and quickly too.

BLOOM: (Shrinks.) Silk, mistress said! O crinkly! scrapy! Must I tip-touch it with my nails?

BELLO: (Points to his whores.) As they are now, so will you be, wigged, singed, perfumesprayed, ricepowdered, with smoothshaven armpits. Tape measurements will be taken next your skin. You will be laced with cruel force into vicelike corsets of soft dove coutille, with whalebone busk, to the diamond trimmed pelvis, the absolute outside edge, while your figure, plumper than when at large, 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 and nice scent for Alice. Alice will feel the pullpull. Martha and Mary will be a little chilly at first in such delicate thighcasing but the frilly flimsiness of lace round your bare knees will remind you...

BLOOM: (A chafing soubrette with dauby cheeks, mustard hair and lace male hands and nose, leering mouth.) I tried her things on only once, a small prank, in Holles street. When we were hardup I washed them to save the laundry bill. My own shirts I turned. It was the purest thrift.

BELLO: (Jeers.) Little jobs that make mother pleased, eh! and showed off coquettishly in your domino at the mirror behind close-drawn blinds your unskirted thighs and hegoat's udders, in various poses of surrender, eh? Ho! Ho! I have to laugh! That secondhand black operatop shift and short trunk leg naughties all split up the stitches at her last rape that Mrs Miriam Dandrade sold you from the Shelbourne Hotel, eh?

BLOOM: Miriam, Black. Demimondaine.

BELLO: (Guffaws.) Christ Almighty, it's too tickling, this! You were a nicelooking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and lay swooning in the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade, about to be violated by Lieutenant Smythe Smythe, Mr Philip Augustus Blockwell, M.P., Signor Laci Daremo, the robust tenor, blueeyed Bert, the liftboy, Henry Fleury of Gordon Bennett fame, Sheridan, the quadroon Cr&Aelig;sus, the varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton. (He guffaws again.) Christ, wouldn't it make a Siamese cat laugh?

BLOOM: (Her hands and features working.) It was Gerald converted me to be a true corsetlover when I was female impersonator in the High School play Vice Versa. It was dear Gerald. He got that kink, fascinated by sister's stays. Now dearest Gerald uses pinky greasepaint and gilds his eyelids. Cult of the beautiful.

BELLO: (With wicked glee.) Beautiful! Give us a breather! When you took your seat with womanish care, lifting your billowy flounces, on the smoothworn throne.

BLOOM: Science. To compare the various joys we each enjoy. (Earnestly.) And really it's better the position... because often I used to wet.

BELLO: (Sternly.) No insubordination. The sawdust is there in the corner for you. I gave you strict instructions, didn't I? Do it standing, sir! I'll teach you to behave like a jinkleman! If I catch a trace on your swaddles. Aha! By the ass of the Dorans you'll find I'm a martinet. The sins of your past are rising against you. Many. Hundreds.

THE SINS OF THE PAST: (In a medley of voices.) He went through a form of clandestine marriage with at least one woman in the shadow of the Black Church. Unspeakable messages he telephoned mentally to Miss Dunn at an address in d'Olier Street while he presented himself indecently to the instrument in the callbox. By word and deed he encouraged a nocturnal strumpet to deposit fecal and other matter in an unsanitary outhouse attached to empty premises. In five public conveniences he wrote pencilled messages offering his nuptial partner to all strongmembered males. And by the offensively smelling vitriol works did he not pass night after night by loving courting couples to see if and what and how much he could see? Did he not lie in bed, the gross boar, gloating over a nauseous fragment of wellused toilet paper presented to him by a nasty harlot, stimulated by gingerbread and a postal order?

BELLO: (Whistles loudly.) Say! What was the most revolting piece of obscenity in all your career of crime? Go the whole hog. Puke it out. Be candid for once.

(Mute inhuman faces throng forward, leering, vanishing, gibbering, Eooloohoom. Poldy Hock, Bootlaces a penny, cassidy's hag, blind stripling, Larry Rhinoceros, the girl, the woman, the whore, the other the... )

BLOOM: Don't ask me. Our mutual faith. Pleasants street. I only thought the half of the... I swear on my sacred oath...

BELLO: (Peremptorily.) Answer. Repugnant wretch! I insist on knowing. Tell me something to amuse me, smut or a bloody good-ghoststory or a line of poetry, quick, quick, quick! Where? How? What time? With how many? I give you just three seconds. One! Two! Thr... !

BLOOM: (Docile, gurgles.) I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant...

BELLO: (Imperiously.) O get out, you skunk! Hold your tongue! Speak when you're spoken to.

BLOOM: (Bows.) Master! Mistress! Mantamer!

(He lifts his arms. His bangle bracelets fall.)

BELLO: (Satirically.) By day you will souse and bat our smelling underclothes, also when we ladies are unwell, and swab out our latrines with dress pinned up and a dishclout tied to your tail. Won't that be nice? (He places a ruby ring on her finger.) And there now! With this ring I thee own. Say, thank you, mistress.

BLOOM: Thank you, mistress.

BELLO: You will make the beds, get my tub ready, empty the pisspots in the different rooms, including old Mrs Keogh's the cook's, a sandy one. Ay, and rinse the seven of them well, mind, or lap it up like champagne. Drink me piping hot. Hop! you will dance attendance or I'll lecture you on your misdeeds, Miss Ruby, and spank your bare bot right well, miss, with the hairbrush. You'll be taught the error of your ways. At night your wellcreamed braceleted hands will wear fortythreebutton gloves newpowdered with talc and having delicately scented fingertips. For such favours knights of old laid down their lives. (He chuckles.) My boys will be no end charmed to see you so ladylike, the colonel, above all. When they come here the night before the wedding to fondle my new attraction in gilded heels. First, I'll have a go at you myself. A man I know on the turf named Charles Alberta Marsh (I was in bed with him just now and another gentleman out of the Hanaper and Petty Bag office) is on the lookout for a maid of all work at a short knock. Swell the bust. Smile. Droop shoulders. What offers? (He points.) For that lot trained by owner to fetch and carry, basket in mouth. (He bares his arm and plunges it elbowdeep in Bloom's vulva.) There's fine depth for you! What, boys? That give you a hardon? (He shoves his arm in a bidder's face.) Here, wet the deck and wipe it round!

A BIDDER: A florin!

(Dillon's lacquey rings his handbell.)

THE LACQUEY: Barang!

A VOICE: One and eightpence too much.

CHARLES ALBERTA MARSH: Must be virgin. Good breath. Clean.

BELLO: (Gives a rap with his gavel.) Two bar. Rockbottom figure and cheap at the price. Fourteen hands high. Touch and examine his points. Handle him. This downy skin, these soft muscles, this tender flesh. If I had only my gold piercer here! And quite easy to milk. Three newlaid gallons a day. A pure stock getter, due to lay within the hour. His sire's milk record was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks. Whoa, my jewel! Beg up! Whoa! (He brands his initial Con Bloom's croup.) So! Warranted Cohen! What advance on two bob, gentlemen?

A DARKVISAGED MAN: (In disguised accent.) Hoondert punt sterlink.

VOICES: (Subdued.) For the Caliph Haroun Al Raschid.

BELLO: (Gaily.) Right. Let them all come. The scanty, daringly short skirt, riding up at the knee to show a peep of white pantalette, is a potent weapon and transparent stockings, emeraldgartered, with the long straight seam trailing up beyond the knee, appeal to the better instincts of the blasé man about town. Learn the smooth mincing walk on four inch Louis XV heels, the Grecian bend with provoking croup, the thighs fluescent, knees modestly kissing. Bring all your power of fascination to bear on them. Pander to their Gomorrahan vices.

BLOOM: (Bends his blushing face into his armpit and simpers with forefinger in mouth.) O, I know what you're hinting at now.

BELLO: What else are you good for, an impotent thing like you? (He stoops and, peering, pokes with his fan rudely under the fat suetfolds of Bloom's haunches.) Up! Up! Manx cat! What have we here? Where's your curly teapot gone to or who docked it on you, cockyolly? Sing, birdy, sing. It's as limp as a boy of six's doing his pooly behind a cart. Buy a bucket or sell your pump. (Loudly.) Can you do a man's job?

BLOOM: Eccles Street.

BELLO: (Sarcastically.) I wouldn't hurt your feelings for the world but there's a man of brawn in possession there. The tables are turned, my gay young fellow! He is something like a fullgrown outdoor man. Well for you, you muff, if you had that weapon with knobs and lumps and warts all over it. He shot his bolt, I can tell you! Foot to foot, knee to knee, belly to belly, bubs to breast! He's no eunuch. A shock of red hair he has sticking out of him behind like a furzebush! Wait for nine months, my lad! Holy ginger, it's kicking and coughing up and down in her guts already! That makes you wild, don't it? Touches the spot? (He spits in contempt.) Spittoon!

BLOOM: I was indecently treated, I... inform the police. Hundred pounds. Unmentionable. I.

BELLO: Would if you could, lame duck. A downpour we want, not your drizzle.

BLOOM: To drive me mad! Moll! I forgot! Forgive! Moll!... We... Still...

BELLO: (Ruthlessly.) No, Leopold Bloom, all is changed by woman's will since you slept horizontal in Sleepy Hollow your night of twenty years. Return and see.

(Old Sleepy Hollow calls over the wold.)

SLEEPY HOLLOW Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!

BLOOM: (In tattered moccasins with a rusty fowlingpiece, tip toeing, fingertipping, his haggard bony bearded face peering through the diamond panes, cries out.) I see her! It's she! The first night at Mat Dillon's! But that dress, the green! And her hair is dyed gold and he.

BELLO: (Laughs mockingly.) That's your daughter, you owl, with a Mullingar student.

(Milly Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, her bluescab in the seawind simply swirling, breaks from the arms of her lover and calls, her young eyes wonderwide.)

MILLY: My! It's Papli! But. O Papli, how old you've grown!

BELLO: Changed, eh? Our whatnot, our writing table where we never wrote, Aunt Hegarty's armchair, our classic reprints of old masters. A man and his men friends are living there in clover. The Cuckoos' Rest! Why not? How many women had you, say? Following them up dark streets, flatfoot, exciting them by your smothered grunts. What, you male prostitute? Blameless dames with parcels of groceries. Turn about. Sauce for the goose, my gander, O.

BLOOM: They... I

BELLO: (Cuttingly.) Their heelmarks will stamp the Brusselette carpet you bought at Wren's auction. In their horseplay with Moll the romp to find the buck flea in her breeches they will deface the little statue you carried home in the rain for art for art's sake. They will violate the secrets of your bottom drawer. Pages will be torn from your handbook of astronomy to make them pipespills. And they will spit in your ten shilling brass fender from Hampton Leedom's.

BLOOM: Ten and six. The act of low scoundrels. Let me go. I will return. I will prove...

A VOICE: Swear!

(Bloom clenches his fists and crawls forward, a bowie knife between his teeth.)

BELLO: As a paying guest or a kept man? Too late. You have made your secondbest bed and others must lie in it. Your epitaph is written. You are down and out and don't you forget it, old bean.

BLOOM: Justice! All Ireland versus one! Has nobody... ?

(He bites his thumb.)

BELLO: Die and be damned to you if you have any sense of decency or grace about you. I can give you a rare old wine that'll send you skipping to hell and back. Sign a will and leave us any coin you have. If you have none see you damn well get it, steal it, rob it! We'll bury you in our shrubbery jakes where you'll be dead and dirty with old Cuck Cohen, my stepnephew I married, the bloody old gouty procurator and sodomite with a crick in his neck, and my other ten or eleven husbands, what ever the buggers' names were, suffocated in the one cess pool. (He explodes in a loud phlegmy laugh.) We'll manure you, Mr Flower! (He pipes scoffingly.) Byby, Poldy! Byby, Papli!

BLOOM: (Clasps his head.) My will power! Memory! I have sinned! I have suff...

(He weeps tearlessly.)

BELLO: (Sneers.) Crybabby! Crocodile tears!

(Bloom, broken, closely veiled for the sacrifice, sobs, his face to the earth. The passing bell is heard. Darkshawled figures of the circumcised, in sackcloth and ashes, stand by the wailing wall. M. Shulomowitz, Joseph Goldwater Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Minnie Watchman, 0. Mastiansky, the Reverend Leopold Abramovitz, Chazen. With swaying arms they wail in pneuma over the recreant Bloom.)

THE CIRCUMCISED: (In a dark guttural chant as they cast dead sea fruit upon him, no flowers.) Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad.

VOICES: (Sighing.) So he's gone. Ah, yes. Yes, indeed. Bloom? Never heard of him. No? Queer kind of chap. There's the widow. That so? Ah, yes.

(From the suttee pyre the flame of gum camphire ascends. The pall of incense smoke screens and disperses. Out of her oak frame a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in teabrown art colours, descends from her grotto and passing under interlacing yews, stands over Bloom.)

THE YEWS: (Their leaves whispering.) Sister. Our sister. Ssh.

THE NYMPH: (Softly.) Mortal! (Kindly.) Nay, dost not weepest!

BLOOM: (Crawls jellily forward under the boughs, streaked by sunlight, with dignity.) This position. I felt it was expected of me. Force of habit.

THE NYMPH: Mortal! You found me in evil company, high kickers, coster picnic makers, pugilists, popular generals, immoral panto boys in flesh tights and the nifty shimmy dancers, La Aurora and Karini, musical act, the hit of the century. I was hidden in cheap pink paper that smelt of rock oil. I was surrounded by the stale smut of clubmen, stories to disturb callow youth, ads for transparencies, truedup dice and bustpads, proprietary articles and why wear a truss with testimonial from ruptured gentleman. Useful hints to the married.

BLOOM: (Lifts a turtle head towards her lap.) We have met before. On another star.

THE NYMPH: (Sadly.) Rubber goods. Neverrip. Brand as sup plied to the aristocracy. Corsets for men. I cure fits or money refunded. Unsolicited testimonials for Professor Waldmann's wonderful chest exuber. My bust developed four inches in three weeks, reports Mrs Gus Rublin with photo.

BLOOM: You mean Photo Bits?

THE NYMPH: I do. You bore me away, framed me in oak and tinsel, set me above your marriage couch. Unseen, one summer eve, you kissed me in four places. And with loving pencil you shaded my eyes, my bosom and my shame.

BLOOM: (Humbly kisses her long hair.) Your classic curves, beautiful immortal. I was glad to look on you, to praise you, a thing of beauty, almost to pray.

THE NYMPH: During dark nights I heard your praise.

BLOOM: (Quickly.) Yes, yes. You mean that I... Sleep reveals the worst side of everyone, children perhaps excepted. I know I fell out of my bed or rather was pushed. Steel wine is said to cure snoring. For the rest there is that English invention, pamphlet of which I received some days ago, incorrectly addressed. It claims to afford a noiseless inoffensive vent. (He sighs.) 'Twas ever thus. Frailty, thy name is marriage.

THE NYMPH: (Her fingers in her ears.) And words. They are not in my dictionary.

BLOOM: You understood them?

THE YEWS: Ssh.

THE NYMPH: (Covers her face with her hand.) What have I not seen in that chamber? What must my eyes look down on?

BLOOM: (Apologetically.) I know. Soiled personal linen, wrong side up with care. The quoits are loose. From Gibraltar by long sea, long ago.

THE NYMPH: (Bends her head.) Worse! Worse!

BLOOM: (Reflects precautiously.) That antiquated commode. It wasn't her weight. She scaled just eleven stone nine. She put on nine pounds after weaning. It was a crack and want of glue. Eh? And that absurd orangekeyed utensil which has only one handle.

(The sound of a waterfall is heard in bright cascade.)

THE WATERFALL:

Poulaphouca Poulaphouca

Poulaphouca Poulaphouca.

THE YEWS: (Mingling their boughs.) Listen. Whisper. She is right, our sister. We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall. We gave shade on languorous summer days.

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: (In the background, in Irish National For ester's uniform, doffs his plumed hat.) Prosper! Give shade on languorous days, trees of Ireland!

THE YEWS: (Murmuring.) Who came to Poulaphouca with the high school excursion? Who left his nutquesting classmates to seek our shade?

BLOOM: (Pigeonbreasted, bottleshouldered, padded, in nondescript juvenile grey and black striped suit, too small for him, white tennis shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops, and a red school cap with badge.) I was in my teens, a growing boy. A little then sufficed, a jolting car, the mingling odours of the ladies' cloakroom and lavatory, the throng penned tight on the old Royal stairs, for they love crushes, instincts of the herd, and the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice. Even a pricelist of their hosiery. And then the heat. There were sunspots that summer. End of school. And tipsycake. Halcyon days.

(Halcyon Days, high school boys in blue and white football jerseys and shorts, Master Donald Turnbull, Master Abraham Chatterton, Master Owen Goldberg, Master Jack Meredith, Master Percy Apjohn, stand in a clearing of the trees and shout to Master Leopold Bloom.)

THE HALCYON DAYS: Mackerel! Live us again. Hurray! (They cheer.)

BLOOM: (Hobbledehoy, warmgloved, mammamufflered, stunned with spent snowballs, struggles to rise.) Again! I feel sixteen! What a lark! Let's ring all the bells in Montague Street. (He cheers feebly.) Hurray for the High School!

THE ECHO: Fool!

THE YEWS: (Rustling.) She is right, our sister. Whisper. (Whispered kisses are heard in all the wood. Faces of hamadryads peep out from the boles and among the leaves and break blossoming into bloom.) Who profaned our silent shade?

THE NYMPH: (Coyly through parting fingers.) There! In the open air?

THE YEWS: (Sweeping downward.) Sister, yes. And on our virgin sward.

THE WATERFALL:

Poulaphouca Poulaphouca

Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca.

THE NYMPH: (With wide fingers.) O! Infamy!

BLOOM: I was precocious. Youth. The fauns. I sacrificed to the god of the forest. The flowers that bloom in the spring. It was pairing time. Capillary attraction is a natural phenomenon. Lotty Clarke, flaxenhaired, I saw at her night toilette through ill-closed curtains, with poor papa's operaglasses. The wanton ate grass wildly. She rolled downhill at Rialto Bridge to tempt me with her flow of animal spirits. She climbed their crooked tree and I... A saint couldn't resist it. The demon possessed me. Besides, who saw?

(Staggering Bob, a whitepolled calf thrusts a ruminating head with humid nostrils through the foliage.)

STAGGERING BOB: (LARGE TEARDROPS ROLLING FROM HIS PROMINENT EYES, SNIVELS) Me. Me see.

BLOOM: Simply satisfying a need. (With pathos.) No girl would when I went girling. Too ugly. They wouldn't play.

(High on Ben Howth through rhododendrons a nannygoat passes, plumpuddered, buttytailed, dropping curvants.)

THE NANNYGOAT: (Bleats.) Megegaggegg! Nannannanny!

BLOOM: (Hatless, flushed, covered with burn of thistledown and gotrepine.) Regularly engaged. Circumstances alter cases. (He gazes intently downwards on the water.) Thirtytwo head over heels per second. Press nightmare. Giddy Elijah. Fall from cliff. Sad end of government printer's clerk. (Through silversilent summer air the dummy of Bloom, rolled in a mummy, rolls rotatingly from the Lion's Head cliff into the purple Waiting waters.)

THE DUMMYMUMMY: Bbbbblllllbbblblodschbg?

(Far out in the bay between Bailey and Kish lights the Erin's King sails, sending a broadening plume of coalsmoke from her funnel towards the land.)

COUNCILLOR NANNETI: (Alone on deck, in dark alpaca, yellow kitefaced, his hand in his waistcoat opening, declaims.) When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then let my epitaph be written. I have...

BLOOM: Done. Prff.

THE NYMPH: (Loftily.) We immortals, as you saw today, have not such a place and no hair there either. We are stonecold and pure. We eat electric light. (She arches her body in lascivious crispation, placing her forefinger in her mouth.) Spoke to me. Heard from behind. How then could you... ?

BLOOM: (Pacing the heather abjectly.) O, I have been a perfect pig. Enemas too I have administered. One third of a pint of quassia, to which add a tablespoonful of rocksalt. Up the fundament. With Hamilton Long's syringe, the ladies' friend.

THE NYMPH: In my presence. The powderpuff. (She blushes and makes a knee.) And the rest.

BLOOM: (Dejected.) Yes. Peccavi! I have paid homage on that living altar where the back changes name. (With sudden fervour.) For why should the dainty scented jewelled hand, the hand that rules... ?

(Figures wind serpenting in slow woodland pattern around the treestems, cooeeing.)

THE VOICE OF KITTY: (In the thicket.) Show us one of them cushions.

THE VOICE OF FLORRY: Here.

(A grouse wings clumsily through the underwood.)

THE VOICE OF LYNCH: (In the thicket.) Whew! Piping hot!

THE VOICE OF ZOE: (From the thicket.) Came from a hot place.

THE VOICE OF VIRAG: (A birdchief bluestreaked and feathered in war panoply with his assegai, striding through a crackling canebrake over beechmast and acorns.) Hot! Hot! Ware Sitting Bull!

BLOOM: It overpowers me. The warm impress of her warm form. Even to sit where a woman has sat, especially with divaricated thighs, as though to grant the last favours, most especially with previously well uplifted white sateen coatpans. So womanly full. It fills me full.

THE WATERFALL:

THE YEWS: Ssh! Sister, speak!

THE NYMPH: (Eyeless, in nun's white habit, coif and huge winged wimple, softly, with remote eyes.) Tranquilia convent. Sister Agatha. Mount Carmel, the apparitions of Knock and Lourdes. No more desire. (She reclines her head, sighing.) Only the ethereal. Where dreamy creamy gull waves o'er the waters dull.

(Bloom half rises. His back trousers button snaps.)

THE BUTTON: Bip!

(Two sluts of the Coombe dance rainily by, shawled, yelling flatly.)

THE SLUTS:

O Leopold lost the pin of his drawers

He didn't know what to do,

To keep it up,

To keep it up.

BLOOM: (Coldly.) You have broken the spell. The last straw. If there were only ethereal where would you all be, postulants and novices? Shy but willing, like an ass pissing.

THE YEWS: (Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their skinny arms ageing and swaying.) Deciduously!

THE NYMPH: Sacrilege! To attempt my virtue! (A large moist stain appears on her robe.) Sully my innocence! You are not fit to touch the garment of a pure woman. (She clutches in her robe.) Wait, Satan. You'll sing no more lovesongs. Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen. (She draws a poniard and, clad in the sheathmail of an elected knight of nine, strikes at his loins.) Nekum!

BLOOM: (Starts up, seizes her hand.) Hoy! Nebrakada! Cat of nine lives! Fair play, madam. No pruning knife. The fox and the grapes, is it? What do we lack with your barbed wire? Crucifix not thick enough? (He clutches her veil.) A holy abbot you want or Brophy, the lame gardener, or the spoutless statue of the watercarrier or good Mother Alphonsus, eh Reynard?

THE NYMPH: (With a cry, flees from him unveiled, her plaster cast cracking, a cloud of stench escaping from the cracks.) Poli... !

BLOOM: (Calls after her.) As if you didn't get it on the double yourselves. No jerks and multiple mucosities all over you. I tried it. Your strength our weakness. What's our stud fee? What will you pay on the nail? You fee men dancers on the Riviera, I read. (The fleeing nymph raises a keen.) Eh! I have sixteen years of black slave labour behind me. And would a jury give me five shillings alimony tomorrow, eh? Fool someone else, not me. (He sniffs.) But. Onions. Stale. Sulphur. Grease.

(The figure of Bella Cohen stands before him.)

BELLA: You'll know me the next time.

BLOOM: (Composed, regards her.) Passée. Mutton dressed as lamb. Lone in the tooth and superfluous hairs. A raw onion the last thing at night would benefit your complexion. And take some double chin drill. Your eyes are as vapid as the glass eyes of your stuffed fox. They have the dimensions of your other features, that's all. I'm not a triple screw propeller.

BELLA: (Contemptuously.) You're not game, in fact. (Her sowcunt barks.) Fohracht!

BLOOM: (Contemptuously.) Clean your nailless middle finger first, the cold spunk of your bully is dripping from your cockscomb. Take a handful of hay and wipe yourself.

BELLA: I know you, canvasser! Dead cod!

BLOOM: I saw him, kipkeeper! Pox and gleet vendor!

BELLA: (Turns to the piano.) Which of you was playing the dead march from Saul?

ZOE: Me. Mind your cornflowers. (She darts to the piano and bangs chords on it with crossed arms.) The cat's ramble through the slag. (She glances back.) Eh? Who's making love to my sweeties? (She darts back to the table.) What's yours is mine and what's mine is my own.

(Kitty disconcerted coats her teeth with the silver paper. Bloom approaches Zoe.)

BLOOM: (Gently.) Give me back that potato, will you?

ZOE: Forfeits, a fine thing and a superfine thing.

BLOOM: (With feeling.) It is nothing, but still a relic of poor mamma.

ZOE:

Give a thing and take it back

God'll ask you where is that

You'll say you don't know

God'll send you down below.

BLOOM: There is a memory attached to it. I should like to have it.

STEPHEN: To have or not to have, that is the question.

ZOE: Here. (She hauls up a reef of her slip, revealing her bare thigh and unrolls the potato from the top of her stocking.) Those that hides knows where to find.

BELLA: (Frowns.) Here. This isn't a musical peepshow. And don't you smash that piano. Who's paying here?

(She goes to the pianola. Stephen fumbles in his pocket and, taking out a banknote by its corner, hands it to her.)

STEPHEN: (With exaggerated politeness.) This silken purse I made out of the sow's ear of the public. Madam, excuse me. If you allow me. (He indicates vaguely Lynch and Bloom.) We are all in the same sweepstake, Kinch and Lynch. Dans ce bordel où tenons nostre état.

LYNCH: (Calls from the hearth.) Dedalus! Give her your blessing for me.

STEPHEN: (Hands Bella a coin.) Gold. She has it.

BELLA: (Looks at the money, then at Zoe, Florry and Kitty.) Do you want three girls? It's ten shillings here.

STEPHEN: (Delightedly.) A hundred thousand apologies. (He fumbles again and takes out and hands her two crowns.) Permit, brevi manu, my sight is somewhat troubled.

(Bella goes to the table to count the money while Stephen talks to himself in monosyllables. Zoe bounds over to the table. Kitty leans over Zoe's neck. Lynch gets up, rights his cap and, clasping Kitty's waist, adds his head to the group.)

FLORRY (Strives heavily to rise.) Ow! My foot's asleep. (She limps over to the table. Bloom approaches.)

BELLA, ZOE. KITTY, LYNCH, BLOOM: (Chattering and squabbling.) The gentleman... ten shillings... paying for the three allow me a moment... this gentleman pays separate who's touching it?... ow... mind who you're pinching... are you staying the night or a short time? who did?... you're a liar, excuse me... the gentle man paid down like a gentleman... drink... it's long after eleven.

STEPHEN: (At the pianola, making a gesture of abhorrence.) No bottles! What, eleven? A riddle.

ZOE: (Lifting up her pettigown and folding a half sovereign into the top of her stocking.) Hard earned on the flat of my back.

LYNCH: (Lifting Kitty from the table.) Come!

KITTY: Wait. (She clutches the two crowns.)

FLORRY: And me?

LYNCH: Hoopla! (He lifts her carries her and bumps her down on the sofa.)

STEPHEN:

The fox crew, the cocks flew,

The bells in heaven

Were striking eleven.

'Tis time for her poor soul

To get out of heaven.

BLOOM: (Quietly lays a half sovereign on the table between Bella and Florry.) So. Allow me. (He takes up the pound note.) Three times ten. We're square.

BELLA: (Admiringly.) You're such a slyboots, old cocky. I could kiss you.

ZOE: (Points.) Hum? Deep as a drawwell. (Lynch bends Kitty back over the sofa and kisses her. Bloom goes with the poundnote to Stephen.)

BLOOM: This is yours.

STEPHEN: How is that? Le distrait or absentminded beggar. (He fumbles again in his pocket and draws out a handful of coins. An object falls.) That fell.

BLOOM: (Stooping, picks up and hands a box of matches.) This.

STEPHEN: Lucifer. Thanks.

BLOOM: (Quietly.) You had better hand over that cash to me to take care of. Why pay more?

STEPHEN: (Hands him all his coins.) Be just before you are generous.

BLOOM: I will but is it wise? (He counts.) One, seven, eleven, and five. Six. Eleven. I don't answer for what you may have lost.

STEPHEN: Why striking eleven? Proparoxyton. Moment before the next Lessing says. Thirsty fox. (He laughs loudly.) Burying his grandmother. Probably he killed her.

BLOOM: That is one pound six and eleven. One pound seven, say.

STEPHEN: Doesn't matter a rambling damn.

BLOOM: No, but...

STEPHEN: (Comes to the table.) Cigarette, please. (Lynch tosses a cigarette from the sofa to the table.) And so Georgina Johnson is dead and married. (A cigarette appears on the table. Stephen looks at it.) Wonder. Parlour magic. Married. Hm. (He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy.)

LYNCH: (Watching him.) You would have a better chance of lighting it if you held the match nearer.

STEPHEN: (Brings the match nearer his eye.) Lynx eye. Must get glasses. Broke them yesterday. Sixteen years ago. Distance. The eye sees all flat. (He draws the match away. It goes out.) Brain thinks. Near: far. Ineluctable modality of the visible. (He frowns mysteriously.) Hm. Sphinx. The beast that has two backs at midnight. Married.

ZOE: It was a commercial traveller married her and took her away with him.

FLORRY (Nods.) Mr Lambe from London.

STEPHEN: Lamb of London, who takest away the sins of our world.

LYNCH: (Embracing Kitty on the sofa, chants deeply.) Dona nobis pacem.

(The cigarette slips from Stephens fingers. Bloom picks it up and throws it into the grate.)

BLOOM: Don't smoke. You ought to eat. Cursed dog I met. (To Zoe.) You have nothing?

ZOE: Is he hungry?

STEPHEN: (Extends his hand to her smiling and chants to the air of the bloodoath in the Dusk of the Gods.)

Hangende Hunger,

Fragende Frau,

Macht uns alle kaput.

ZOE: (Tragically.) Hamlet, I am thy father's gimlet! (She takes his hand.) Blue eyed beauty, I'll read your hand. (She points to his forehead.) No wit, no wrinkles. (She counts.) Two, three, Mars, that's courage. (Stephen shakes his head.) No kid.

LYNCH: Sheet lightning courage. The youth who could not shiver and shake. (To Zoe.) Who taught you palmistry?

ZOE: (Turns.) Ask my ballocks that I haven't got. (To Stephen.) I see it in your face. The eye, like that. (She frowns with lowered head.)

LYNCH: (Laughing, slaps Kitty behind twice.) Like that. Pandy bat.

(Twice loudly a pandybat cracks, the coffin of the pianola flies open, the bald little round jack-in-the-box head of Father Dolan springs up.)

FATHER DOLAN: Any boy want flogging? Broke his glasses? Lazy idle little schemer. See it in your eye.

(Mild, benign, rectorial, reproving, the head of Don John Conmee rises from the pianola coffin.)

DON JOHN CONMEE: Now, Father Dolan! Now. I'm sure that Stephen is a very good little boy.

ZOE: (Examining Stephen's palm.) Woman's hand.

STEPHEN: (Murmurs.) Continue. Lie. Hold me. Caress. I never could read His handwriting except His criminal thumbprint on the haddock.

ZOE: What day were you born?

STEPHEN: Thursday. Today.

ZOE: Thursday's child has far to go. (She traces lines on his hand.) Line of fate. Influential friends.

FLORRY (Pointing.) Imagination.

ZOE: Mount of the moon. You'll meet with a... (She peers at his hands abruptly.) I won't tell you what's not good for you. Or do you want to know?

BLOOM: (Detaches her fingers and offers his palm.) More harm than good. Here. Read mine.

BELLA: Show. (She turns up Bloom's hand.) I thought so. Knobby knuckles, for the women.

ZOE: (Peering at Bloom's palm.) Gridiron. Travels beyond the sea and marry money.

BLOOM: Wrong.

ZOE: (Quickly.) O, I see. Short little finger. Henpecked husband. That wrong?

(Black Liz, a huge rooster hatching in a chalked circle, rises, stretches her wings and clucks.)

BLACK LIZ: Gara. Klook. Klook. Klook.

(She sidles from her newlaid egg and waddles off.)

BLOOM: (Points to his hand.) That weal there is an accident. Fell and cut it twenty-two years ago. I was sixteen.

ZOE: I see, says the blind man. Tell us news.

STEPHEN: See? Moves to one great goal. I am twenty two too. Sixteen years ago I twentytwo tumbled, twentytwo years ago he sixteen fell off his hobbyhorse. (He winces.) Hurt my hand somewhere. Must see a dentist. Money?

(Zoe whispers to Florry. They giggle. Bloom releases his hand and writes idly on the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves.)

FLORRY: What?

(A hackneycar number three hundred and twentyfour, with a gallantbuttocked mare, driven by James Barton, Harmony Avenue, Donnybrook, trots past. Blazes Boylan and Lenehan sprawl swaying on the sideseats. The Ormond boots crouches behind on the axle. Sadly over the crossblind Lydia Douce and Mina Kennedy gaze.)

THE BOOTS: (Jogging, mocks them with thumb and wriggling wormfingers.) Haw, haw, have you the horn?

(Bronze by gold they whisper.)

ZOE: (To Florry.) Whisper.

(They whisper again.)

(Over the well of the car Blazes Boylan leans, his boater straw set sideways, a red flower in his mouth. Lenehan, in a yachtsman's cap and white shoes, officiously detaches a long hair from Blazes Boylan s shoulder.)

LENEHAN: Ho! What do I here behold? Were you brushing the cobwebs off a few quims?

BOYLAN: (Seated, smiles.) Plucking a turkey.

LENEHAN: A good night's work.

BOYLAN: (Holding up four thick bluntungulated fingers, winks.) Blazes Kate! Up to sample or your money back. (He holds out a forefinger.) Smell that.

LENEHAN (Smells gleefully.) Ah! Lobster and mayonnaise. Ah!

ZOE: AND FLORRY (Laugh together.) Ha ha ha ha.

BOYLAN: bumps surely from the car and calls loudly for all to hear. ) Hello, Bloom! Mrs Bloom up yet?

BLOOM: (In a flunkey's plum plush coat and kneebreeches, buff stockings and powdered wig.) I'm afraid not, sir, the last articles...

BOYLAN: (Tosses him sixpence.) Here, to buy yourself a gin and splash. (He hangs his hat smartly on a peg of Bloom's antlered head.) Show me in. I have a little private business with your wife. You understand?

BLOOM: Thank you, sir. Yes, sir, Madam Tweedy is in her bath, sir.

MARION: He ought to feel himself highly honoured. (She plops splashing out of the water.) Raoul, darling, come and dry me. I'm in my pelt. Only my new hat and a carriage sponge.

BOYLAN: (A merry twinkle in his eye.) Topping!

BELLA: What? What is it?

(Zoe whispers to her.)

MARION: Let him look, the pishogue! Pimp! And scourge himself! I'll write to a powerful prostitute or Bartholomona, the bearded woman, to raise weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a signed and stamped receipt.

BELLA: (Laughing.) Ho ho ho ho.

BOYLAN: (To Bloom, over his shoulder.) You can apply your eye to the keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through her a few times.

BLOOM: Thank you, sir, I will, sir. May I bring two men chums to witness the deed and take a snapshot? (He holds an ointment jar.) Vaseline, sir? Orangeflower?... Lukewarm water?...

KITTY: (From the sofa.) Tell us, Florry. Tell us. What.

(Florry whispers to her. Whispering lovewords murmur lip-lapping loudly, poppysmic plopslop.)

MINA KENNEDY: (Her eyes upturned.) O, it must be like the scent of geraniums and lovely peaches! O, he simply idolises every bit of her! Stuck together! Covered with kisses!

LYDIA DOUCE: (Her mouth opening.) Yumyum. O, he's carrying her round the room doing it! Ride a cock horse. You could hear them in Paris and New York. Like mouthfuls of strawberries and cream.

KITTY: (Laughing.) Hee hee hee.

BOYLAN'S VOICE: (Sweetly, hoarsely, in the pit of his stomach.) Ah! Gooblazqruk brukarchkrasht!

MARION'S VOICE: (Hoarsely, sweetly rising to her throat.) O! Weeshwashtkissima, pooisthnapoohuck!

BLOOM: (His eyes wildly dilated, clasps himself) Show! Hide! Show! Plough her! More! Shoot!

BELLA, ZOE, FLORRY, KITTY: Ho ho! Ha ha! Hee hee!

LYNCH: (Points.) The mirror up to nature. (He laughs.) Hu hu hu hu hu hu.

(Stephen and Bloom gaze in the mirror. The face of William Shakespeare, beardless, appears there, rigid in facial paralysis, crowned by the reflection of the reindeer antlered hatrack in the hall.)

SHAKESPEARE: (In dignified ventriloquy.) 'Tis the loud laugh bespeaks the vacant mind. (To Bloom.) Thou thoughtest as how thou wastest invisible. Gaze. (He crows with a black capon's laugh.) Iagogo! How my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymomun. Iagogogo!

BLOOM: (Smiles yellowly at the whores.) When will I hear the joke?

ZOE: Before you're twice married and once a widower.

BLOOM: Lapses are condoned. Even the great Napoleon, when measurements were taken near the skin after his death...

(Mrs Dignam, widow woman, her snubnose and cheeks flushed with deathtalk, tears and Tunny's tawny sherry, hurries by in her weeds, her bonnet awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, lips and nose, a pen chivvying her brood of cygnets. Beneath her skirt appear her late husband's everyday trousers and turnedup boots, lace eights. She holds a Scottish widow's insurance policy and lace marqueeumbrella under which her brood runs with her, Patsy hopping on one short foot, his collar loose, a hank of porksteaks dangling, Freddy whimpering, Susy with a crying cods mouth, Alice struggling with the baby. She cuffs them on, her streamers flaunting aloft.)

FREDDY: Ah, ma, you're dragging me along!

SUSY: Mamma, the beeftea is fizzing over!

SHAKESPEARE: (With paralytic rage.) Weda seca whokilla farst.

(The face of Martin Cunningham, bearded, refeatures Shakespeares beardless face. The marqueeumbrella sways drunkenly, the children run aside. Under the umbrella appears Mrs Cunningham in Merry Widow hat and kimono gown. She glides sidling and bowing, twisting japanesily.)

MRS CUNNINGHAM: (Sings.) And they call me the jewel of Asia.

MARTIN CUNNINGHAM: (Gazes on her impassive.) Immense! Most bloody awful demirep!

STEPHEN: Et exaltabuntur cornua iusti. Queens lay with prize bulls. Remember Pasiphae for whose lust my grandoldgross father made the first confessionbox. Forget not Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of the house of Lambert. And Noah was drunk with wine. And his ark was open.

BELLA: None of that here. Come to the wrong shop.

LYNCH: Let him alone. He's back from Paris.

ZOE: (Runs to Stephen and links him.) O go on! Give us some parleyvoo.

(Stephen claps hat on head and leaps over to the fireplace, where he stands with shrugged shoulders, finny hands outspread, a painted smile on his face.)

LYNCH: (Pommelling on the sofa.) Rmm Rmm Rmm Rrr rrrmmmmm.

STEPHEN: (Gobbles, with marionette jerks. ) Thousand places of entertainment to expenses your evenings with lovely ladies saling gloves and other things perhaps her heart beerchops perfect fashionable house very eccentric where lots cocottes beautiful dressed much about princesses like are dancing cancan and walking there parisian clowneries extra foolish for bachelors foreigns the same if talking a poor english how much smart they are on things love and sensations voluptuous. Misters very selects for is pleasure must to visit heaven and hell show with mortuary candles and they tears silver which occur every night. Perfectly shocking terrific of religion's things mockery seen in universal world. All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then disrobe and squeal loud to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh young with dessous troublants. (He clocks his tongue loudly.) Ho, la la! Ce pif qu'il a!

LYNCH: Vive le vampire!

THE WHORES: Bravo! Parleyvoo!

STEPHEN: (Grimacing with head back, laughs loudly, clapping himself) Great success of laughing. Angels much prostitutes like and holy apostles big damn ruffians. Demimondaines nicely handsome sparkling of diamonds very amiable cos turned. Or do you are fond better what belongs they moderns pleasure turpitude of old mans? (He points about him with grotesque gestures which Lynch and the whores reply to.) Caoutchouc statue woman reversible or lifesize tompeeptoms virgins nudities very lesbic the kiss five ten times. Enter gentlemen to see in mirrors every positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omelette on the belly pièce de Shakespeare.

BELLA: (Clapping her belly, sinks back on the sofa with a shout of laughter.) An omelette on the... Ho! ho! ho! ho!... Omelette on the...

STEPHEN: (Mincingly.) I love you, Sir darling. Speak you englishman tongue for double entente cordiale. O yes, mon loup. How much cost? Waterloo. Watercloset. (He ceases suddenly and holds up a forefinger.)

BELLA: (Laughing.) Omelette...

THE WHORES: (Laughing.) Encore! Encore!

STEPHEN: Mark me. I dreamt of a watermelon.

ZOE: Go abroad and love a foreign lady.

LYNCH: Across the world for a wife.

FLORRY Dreams go by contraries.

STEPHEN: (Extending his arms.) It was here. Street of harlots. In Serpentine Avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a fubsy widow. Where's the red carpet spread?

BLOOM: (Approaching Stephen.) Look.

STEPHEN: No, I flew. My foes beneath me. And ever shall be. World without end. (He cries.) Pater! Free!

BLOOM: I say, look...

STEPHEN: Break my spirit, will he? O merde alors! (He cries, his vulture talons sharpened.) Hola! Hillyho!

(Simon Dedalus' voice hilloes in answer, somewhat sleepy but ready.)

SIMON: That's all right. (He swoops uncertainly through the air, wheeling, uttering cries of heartening, on strong ponderous buzzard wings.) Ho, boy! Are you going to win? Hoop! Pschatt! Stable with those halfcastes. Wouldn't let them within the bawl of an ass. Head up! Keep our flag flying! An eagle gules volant in a field argent displayed. Ulster king at arms! hai hoop! (He makes the beagle's call giving tongue.) Bulbul! Burblblbrurblbl! Hai, boy!

(The fronds and spaces of the wallpaper file rapidly across country. A stout fox drawn from covert, brush pointed, having buried his grandmother, runs swift for the open, bright-eyed, seeking badger earth, under the leaves. The pack of staghounds follows, nose to the ground, sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrblng to be blooded. Ward Union huntsmen and huntswomen live with them, hot for a kill. From Six Mile Point, Flathouse, Nine Mile Stone follow the footpeople with knotty sticks, salmongaffs, lassos, flockmasters with stockwhips, bearbaiters with tomtoms, toreadors with bullswords, grey negroes waving torches. The crowd bowls of dicers, crown and anchor players, thimbleriggers, broadsmen. Crows and touts, hoarse bookies in high wizard hats clamour deafeningly.)

THE CROWD:

Card of the races. Racing card!

Ten to one the field!

Tommy on the clay here!

Tommy on the clay!

Ten to one bar one.

Ten to one bar one.

Try your luck on spinning Jenny!

Ten to one bar one!

Sell the monkey, boys!

Sell the monkey!

I'll give ten to one!

Ten to one bar one!

(A dark horse, riderless, bolts like a phantom past the winningpost, his mane moonfoaming, his eyeballs stars. The field follows, a bunch of bucking mounts. Skeleton horses: Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the Duke of Westminsters Shotover, Repulse, the Duke of Beauforts' Ceylon, prix de Paris. Dwarfs ride them, rusty armoured, leaping, leaping in their saddles. Last in a drizzle of rain, on a broken-winded isabelle nag, Cock of the North, the favourite, honey cap, green jacket, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, gripping the reins, a hockey stick at the ready. His nag, stumbling on whitegaitered feet, jogs along the rocky road.)

THE ORANGE LODGES: (Jeering.) Get down and push, mister. Last lap! You'll be home the night!

GARRETT DEASY: (Bolt upright, his nailscraped face plastered with postage stamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his blue eyes flashing in the prism of the chandelier as his mount lopes by at a schooling gallop.) Per vias rectas!

(A yoke of buckets leopards all over him and his rearing nag, a torrent of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, potatoes.)

THE GREEN LODGES: Soft day, sir John! Soft day, your honour!

(Private Carr, Private Compton and Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the windows, singing in discord.)

STEPHEN: Hark! Our friend, noise in the street!

ZOE: (Holds up her hand.) Stop!

PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON and CISSY CAFFREY: Yet I've a sort a Yorkshire relish for...

ZOE: That's me. (She claps her hands.) Dance! Dance! (She runs to the pianola.) Who has twopence?

BLOOM: Who'll.

LYNCH: (Handing her coins.) Here.

STEPHEN: (Cracking his fingers impatiently.) Quick! Quick! Where's my augur's rod? (He runs to the piano and takes his ashplant, beating his foot in tripudium.)

ZOE: (Turns the drumhandle.) There.

(She drops two pennies in the slot. Glow pink and violet lights start forth. The drum turns purring in low hesitation waltz. Professor Goodwin, in a bowknotted periwig, in court dress, wearing a stained inverness cape, bent in two from incredible age, totters across the room, his hands fluttering. He sits tinily on the piano stool and lifts and beats handless sticks of arms on the keyboard, nodding with damsels grace, his bowknot bobbing.)

ZOE: (Twirls around herself heeltapping.) Dance. Anybody here for there? Who'll dance?

(The pianola, with changing lights, plays in waltz time the prelude to My Girl's a Yorkshire Girl. Stephen throws his ashplant on the table and seizes Zoe around the waist. Florry and Bella push the table towards the fireplace. Stephen, aiming Zoe with exaggerated grace, begins to waltz her around the room. Her sleeve, falling from gracing arms, reveals a white fleshflower of vaccination. Bloom stands aside. Between the curtains, Professor Maginni inserts a leg on the toepoint of which spins a silk hat. With a deft kick, he sends it spinning to his crown and jauntyhatted skates in. He wears a slate frockcoat with claret silk lapels, a go-et of cream tulle, a green lowcut waistcoat, stock collar with white kerchief tight lavender trousers, patent pumps and canary gloves. In his buttonhole is a dahlia. He twirls in reversed directions a clouded cane, then wedges it tight in his oxter. He places a hand limply on his breastbone, bows and fondles his flower and buttons.)

MAGINNI: The poetry of motion, art of callisthenics. No connection with Madam Legget Byrne's or Levinstone's. Fancy dress balls arranged. Deportment. The Katty Lanner steps. So. Watch me! My terpsichorean abilities. (He minuets forward three paces on tripping bee's feet.) Tout le monde an avant! Révérence! Tout le monde en place!

(The prelude ceases. Professor Goodwin, beating vague arms,shrivels, shrinks, his live cape falling about the stool. The air, in firmer waltz time, pounds. Stephen and Zoe circle freely. The lights change, glow, fade, gold, rose, violet.)

THE PIANOLA: Two young fellows were talking about their girls, girls, girls, Sweethearts they'd left behind.

(From a corner the morning hours run out, goldhaired, slim, in girlish blue, waspwaisted, with innocent hands. Nimbly they dance, twirling their skipping ropes. The hours of noon follow in amber gold. Laughing linked, high haircombs flashing, they catch the sun in mocking mirrors, lifting their arms.)

MAGINNI: (Clipclaps glovesilent hands.) Carré! Avant deux! Breathe evenly! Balance!

(The morning and noon hours waltz in their places, turning, advancing to each other, shaping their curves, bowing vis a vis. Cavaliers behind them arch and suspend their arms, with hands descending to, touching, rising from their shoulders.)

HOURS: You may touch my.

CAVALIERS: May I touch your?

HOURS: O, but lightly!

CAVALIERS: O, so lightly!

THE PIANOLA: My little shy little lass has a waist.

(Zoe and Stephen turn boldly with looser swing. The twilight hours advance, from long landshadows, dispersed, lagging, languideyed, their cheeks delicate with cipria and false faint bloom. They are in grey gauze with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the land breeze.)

MAGINNI: Avant! huit! Traversé! Salut! Cours de mains! Croisé!

(The eight hours steal to the last place. Morning, noon and twilight hours retreat before them. They are masked, with daggered hair and bracelets of dull bells. Weary, they curchycurchy under veils.)

THE BRACELETS: Heigho! Heigho!

ZOE: (Twisting, her hand to her brow.) O!

MAGINNI: Los tiroirs! Cha?ne de dames! La corbeille! Dos à dos!

(Arabesquing wearily, they weave a pattern on the floor, weaving, unweaving, curtseying, twisting, simply swirling.)

ZOE: I'm giddy.

(She frees herself droops on a chair, Stephen seizes Florry and turns with her.)

MAGINNI: Boulangère! Los ronds! Los ponts! Chevaux de bois! Escargots!

(Twining, receding, with interchanging hands, the night hours link, each with arching arms, in a mosaic of movements. Stephen and Florry turn cumbrously.)

MAGINNI: Dansez avec vos dames! Changes de dames! Donnes le petit bouquet a votre dame! Remerciez!

THE PIANOLA:

Best, best of all,

Baraabum!

KITTY: (Jumps up.) O, they played that on the hobbyhorses at the Mirus bazaar!

(She runs to Stephen. He leaves Florry brusquely and seizes Kitty. A screaming bit tern's harsh high whistle shrieks. Groangrousegurgling Toft's cumbersome whirligig turns slowly the room right roundabout the room.)

THE PIANOLA: My girl's a Yorkshire girl.

ZOE: Yorkshire through and through. Come on all!

(She seizes Florry and waltzes her.)

STEPHEN: Pas seul!

(He wheels Kitty into Lynch's arm's, snatches up his ashplant from the table and takes the floor. All wheel, whirl, waltz, twirl. Bloombella, Kittylynch, Florryzoe, jujuby women. Stephen with hat ashplant frogsplits in middle highkicks with skykicking mouth shut hand clasp part under thigh, with clang tinkle boomhammer tallyho horn blower blue green yellow flashes. Toft's cumbersome turns with hobbyhorse riders from gilded snakes dangled, bowels fandango leaping spurn soil foot and fall again.)

THE PIANOLA:

Though she's a factory lass

And wears no fancy clothes.

(Closeclutched swift swifter with glareblareflare scudding they scotlootshoot lumbering by. Baraabum!)

TUTTI: Encore! Bis! Bravo! Encore!

SIMON: Think of your mother's people!

STEPHEN: Dance of death.

(Bang fresh barang bang of lacquey's bell, horse, nag, steer piglings, Conmee on Christass lame crutch and leg sailor in cockboat armfolded ropepulling hitching stamp hornpipe' through and through, Baraabum! On nags, hogs, bellhorses, Gadarene swine, Corny in coffin. Steel shark stone one handled Nelson, two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained from pram falling bawling. Gum, he's a champion. Fuseblue peer from barrel rev. evensong love on hackney jaunt Blazes blind coddoubled bicyclers Dilly with snowcake no fancy clothes. Then in last wiswitchback lumbering up and down bump mash tub sort of viceroy and reine relish for tublumber bumpshire rose. Baraabum!)

(The couples fall aside. Stephen whirls giddily. Room whirls back. Eyes closed, he totters. Red rails fly spacewards. Stars all around suns turn roundabout. Bright midges dance on wall. He stops dead.)

STEPHEN: Ho!

(Stephen's mother, emaciated, rises stark through the floor in leper grey with a wreath of faded orange blossoms and a torn bridal veil, her face worn and noseless, green with grave mould. Her hair is scant and lank. She fixes her bluecircled hollow eyesockets on Stephen and opens her toothless mouth uttering a silent word. A choir of virgins and confessors sing voicelessly.)

THE CHOIR:

Liliata rutilantium te confessorum...

Iubilantium te virginum...

(From the top of a tower Buck Mulligan, in particoloured jester's dress of puce and yellow and clown's cap with curling bell, stands gaping at her, a smoking buttered split scone in his hand.)

BUCK MULLIGAN: She's beastly dead. The pity of it! Mulligan meets the afflicted mother. (He upturns his eyes.) Mercurial Malachi.

THE MOTHER: (With the subtle smile of death's madness.) I was once the beautiful May Goulding. I am dead.

STEPHEN: (Horrorstruck.) Lemur, who are you? What bogey man's trick is this?

BUCK MULLIGAN: (Shakes his curling capbell.) The mockery of it! Kinch killed her dogsbody bitchbody. She kicked the bucket. (Tears of molten butter fall from his eyes into the scone.) Our great sweet mother! Epi oinopa ponton.

THE MOTHER: (Comes nearer, breathing upon him softly her breath of wetted ashes.) All must go through it, Stephen. More women than men in the world. You too. Time will come.

STEPHEN: (Choking with fright, remorse and horror.) They said I killed you, mother. He offended your memory. Cancer did it, not I. Destiny.

THE MOTHER: (A green rill of bile trickling from a side of her mouth.) You sang that song to me. Love's bitter mystery.

STEPHEN: (Eagerly.) Tell me the word, mother, if you know now. The word known to all men.

THE MOTHER: Who saved you the night you jumped into the train at Dalkey with Paddy Lee? Who had pity for you when you were sad among the strangers? Prayer is all powerful. Prayer for the suffering souls in the Ursuline manual, and forty days' indulgence. Repent, Stephen.

STEPHEN: The ghoul! Hyena!

THE MOTHER: I pray for you in my other world. Get Dilly to make you that boiled rice every night after your brain work. Years and years I loved you, O my son, my firstborn, when you lay in my womb.

ZOE: (Fanning herself with the grate fan.) I'm melting!

FLORRY: (Points to Stephen) Look! He's white.

BLOOM: (Goes to the window to open it more.) Giddy.

THE MOTHER (With smouldering eyes.) Repent! O, the fire of hell!

STEPHEN: (Panting.) The corpsechewer! Raw head and bloody bones!

THE MOTHER: (Her face drawing near and nearer, sending out an ashen breath.) Beware! (She raises her blackened, withered right arm slowly towards Stephen's breast with outstretched fingers.) Beware! God's hand! (A green crab with malignant red eyes sticks deep its grinning claws in Stephen's heart.)

STEPHEN: (Strangled with rage.) Shite! (His features grow drawn and grey and old.)

BLOOM: (At the window.) What?

STEPHEN: Ah non, par exemple! The intellectual imagination! With me all or not at all. Non serviam!

FLORRY: Give him some cold water. Wait. (She rushes out.)

THE MOTHER (Wrings her hands slowly, moaning desperately.) O Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on him! Save him from hell, O divine Sacred Heart!

STEPHEN: No! No! No! Break my spirit all of you if you can! I'll bring you all to heel!

THE MOTHER: (In the agony of her deathrattle.) Have mercy on Stephen, Lord, for my sake! Inexpressible was my anguish when expiring with love, grief and agony on Mount Calvary.

STEPHEN: Nothung!

(He hits his ashplant high with both hands and smashes the chandelier. Time's livid final flame leaps and, in the following darkness, ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry.)

THE GASJET: Pwfungg!

BLOOM: Stop!

LYNCH: (Rushes forward and seizes Stephen's hand.) Here! Hold on! Don't run amok!

BELLA: Police!

(Stephen, abandoning his ashplant, his head and arms thrown back stark, beats the ground and flees from the room past the whores at the door.)

BELLA: (Screams.) After him!

(The two whores rush to the halldoors. Lynch and Kitty and Zoe stampede from the room. They talk excitedly. Bloom follows, returns.)

THE WHORES: (Jammed in the doorway, pointing.) Down there.

ZOE: (Pointing.) There. There's something up.

BELLA: Who pays for the lamp? (She seizes Bloom's coattail.) There. You were with him. The lamp's broken.

BLOOM: (Rushes to the hall, rushes back.) What lamp, woman?

A WHORE: He tore his coat.

BELLA: (Her eyes hard with anger and cupidity, points.) Who's to pay for that? Ten Shillings. You're a witness.

BLOOM: (Snatches up Stephen's ashplant.) Me? Ten shillings? Haven't you lifted enough off him? Didn't he...

BELLA: (Loudly.) Here, none of your tall talk. This isn't a brothel. A ten shilling house.

BLOOM: (His hand under the lamp, pulls the chain. Pulling, the gasjet lights up a crushed mauve purple shade. He raises the ashplant.) Only the chimney's broken. Here is all he...

BELLA: (Shrinks back and screams.) Jesus! Don't!

BLOOM: (Warding off a blow.) To show you how he hit the paper. There's not a sixpenceworth of damage done. Ten shillings!

FLORRY (With a glass of water enters.) Where is he?

BELLA: Do you want me to call the police?

BLOOM: O, I know. Bulldog on the premises. But he's a Trinity student. Patrons of your establishment. Gentlemen that pay the rent. (He makes a masonic sign.) Know what I mean? Nephew of the vice-chancellor. You don't want a scandal.

BELLA: (Angrily.) Trinity! Coming down here ragging after the boat races and paying nothing. Are you my commander here? Where is he? I'll charge him. Disgrace him, I will. (She shouts.) Zoe! Zoe!

BLOOM: (Urgently.) And if it were your own son in Oxford! (Warningly.) I know.

BELLA: (Almost speechless.) Who are you incog?

ZOE: (In the doorway.) There's a row on.

BLOOM: What? Where? (He throws a shilling on the table and shouts.) That's for the chimney. Where? I need mountain air.

(He hurries out through the hall. The whores point. Florry follows, spilling water from her tilted tumbler. On the doorstep all the whores clustered talk volubly, pointing to the right where the fog has cleared off From the left arrives a jingling hackney car. It slows to in front of the house. Bloom at the halldoor perceives Corny Kelleher who is about to dismount from the car with two silent lechers. He averts his face. Bella from within the hall uses on her whores. They blow ickylickysticky yumyum kisses. Corny Kelleher replies with a ghostly lewd smile. The silent lechers turn to pay the jarvey. Zoe and Kitty still point right. Bloom, parting them swiftly, draws his caliph's hood and poncho and hurries down the steps with sideways face. Incog Haroun al Baschid, he flits behind the silent lechers and hastens on by the railings with fleet step of a pard strewing the drag behind him, torn envelopes drenched in aniseed. The ashplant marks his stride. A pack of bloodhounds, led by Hornblower of Trinity brandishing a dogwhip in tallyho cap and an old pair of grey trousers, follows from far, picking up the scent, nearer, baying, panting, at fault, breaking away, throwing their tongues, biting his heels, leaping at his tail. He walks, runs, zigzags, gallops, lugs laid back. He is pelted with gravel, cabbagestumps, biscuitboxes, eggs, potatoes, dead codfish, womans slipperslappers. After him, freshfound, the hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C 66 C night watch, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V.B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry O'Rourke, Joe Cuffe, Mrs O'Dowd Pisser Burke, The Nameless One, Mrs Riordan, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whatdoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatslike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwith, 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, the reverend Tinned Salmon, Professor Joly, Mrs Breen, Denis Breen, Theodore Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, the Westland Row postmistress, C.P. M'Coy, friend of Lyons, Hoppy Holohan, man in the street, other man in the street, Footballboots, pugnosed driver rich protestant lady, Davy Byrne, Mrs Ellen M'Guinness, Mrs Joe Gallaher George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, Crofton out of the Collector Generals, Dan Dawson, dental surgeon Bloom with tweezers, Mrs Bob Doran, Mrs Kennefick, Mrs Wyse Nolan, John Wyse Nolan, handsomemamedwomanrubbed againstwidebehindinClonskeatram, the bookseller of Sweets of Sin, Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad, Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck, the managing clerk of Drimmies colonel Hayes, Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Herzog, Michael E. Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Galbraith, the constable off Eccles Street corner old doctor Brady with stethoscope, the mystery man on the beach, a retriever Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all her lovers.

THE HUE AND CRY: (Helterskelterelterwelter) He's Bloom! Stop Bloom! Stopabloom! Stopperrobber! Hi! Hi! Stop him on the corner!

(At the corner of Beaver Street beneath the scaffolding Bloom panting stops on the fringe of the noisy quarrelling knot, a lot not knowing a jot what hi! hi! row and wrangle round the whowhat brawlaltogether.)

STEPHEN: (With elaborate gestures, breathing deeply and slowly.) You are my guests. The uninvited. By virtue of the fifth of George and seventh of Edward. History to blame. Fabled by mothers of memory.

PRIVATE CARR: (To Cissy Caffrey.) Was he insulting you?

STEPHEN: Addressed her in vocative feminine. Probably neuter. Ungenitive.

VOICES: No, he didn't. The girl's telling lies. He was in Mrs Cohen's. What's up? Soldiers and civilians.

CISSY CAFFREY: I was in company with the soldiers and they left me to do - you know and the young man ran up behind me. But I'm faithful to the man that's treating me though I'm only a shilling whore.

STEPHEN: (Catches sight of Kitty's and Lynch's heads.) Hail, Sisyphus. (He points to himself and the others.) Poetic. Neopoetic.

VOICES: She's faithfultheman.

CISSY CAFFREY: Yes, to go with him. And me with a soldier friend.

PRIVATE COMPTON: He doesn't half want a thick ear, the blighter. Biff him one, Harry.

PRIVATE CARR: (To Cissy.) Was he insulting you while me and him was having a piss?

LORD TENNYSON (In Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, flowingbearded.) Their's not to reason why.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Biff him, Harry.

STEPHEN: (To Private Compton. ) I don't know your name but you are quite right. Doctor Swift says one man in armour will beat ten men in their shirts. Shirt is synechdoche. Part for the whole.

CISSY CAFFREY: (To the crowd.) No, I was with the private.

STEPHEN: (Amiably.) Why not? The bold soldier boy. In my opinion every lady for example...

PRIVATE CARR: (His cap awry, advancing to Stephen.) Say, how would it be, governor, if I was to bash in your jaw?

STEPHEN: (Looks up in the sky.) How? Very unpleasant. Noble art of self-pretence. Personally, I detest action. (He waves his hand) Hand hurts me slightly. Enfin, ce sont vos oignons. (To Cissy Caffrey.) Some trouble is on here. What is it, precisely?

DOLLY GRAY: (From her balcony waves her handkerchief giving the sign of the heroine of Jericho.) Rahab. Cook's son, goodbye. Safe home to Dolly. Dream of the girl you left behind and she will dream of you.

(The soldiers turn their swimming eyes.)

BLOOM: (Elbowing through the crowd plucks Stephen's sleeve vigorously.) Come now, professor, that carman is waiting.

STEPHEN: (Turns.) Eh? (He disengages himself) Why should I not speak to him or to any human being who walks upright upon this oblate orange? (He points his finger.) I'm not afraid of what I can talk to if I see his eye. Retaining the perpendicular.

(He staggers a pace back.)

BLOOM: (Propping him.) Retain your own.

STEPHEN: (Laughs emptily.) My centre of gravity is displaced. I have forgotten the trick. Let us sit down somewhere and discuss. Struggle for life is the law of existence but modern philirenists, notably the tsar and the king of England, have invented arbitration. (He taps his brow.) But in here it is I must kill the priest and the king.

BIDDY THE: CLAP Did you hear what the professor said? He's a professor out of the college.

CUNTY KATE: I did. I heard that.

BIDDY THE: CLAP He expresses himself with much marked refinement of phraseology.

CUNTY KATE: Indeed, yes. And at the same time with such apposite trenchancy.

PRIVATE CARR: (Pulls himself free and comes forward.) What's that you're saying about my king?

(Edward the Seventh appears in an archway. He wears a white jersey on which an image of the Sacred Heart is stitched, with the insignia of Garter and Thistle, Golden Fleece, Elephant of Denmark, Skinners' and Probyns' horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable artillery company of Massachusetts. He sucks a red jujube. He is robed as a grand elect perfect and sublime mason with trowel and apron, marked made in Germany. In his left hand he holds a plasterers bucket on which is printed: Défense d'uriner. A roar of welcome greets him.)

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Slowly, solemnly but indistinctly.) Peace, perfect peace. For identification bucket in my hand. Cheerio, boys. (He turns to his subjects.) We have come here to witness a clean straight fight and we heartily wish both men the best of good luck. Mahak makar a back.

(He shakes hands with Private Carr, Private Compton, Stephen, Bloom and Lynch. General applause. Edward the Seventh lifts the bucket graciously in acknowledgement.)

PRIVATE CARR: (To Stephen.) Say it again.

STEPHEN: (Nervous, friendly, pulls himself up.) I understand your point of view, though I have no king myself for the moment. This is the age of patent medicine. A discussion is difficult down here. But this is the point. You die for your country, suppose. (He places his arm on Private Carr's sleeve.) Not that I wish it for you. But I say: Let my country die for me. Up to the present it has done so. I don't want it to die. Damn death. Long live life!

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Levitates over heaps of slain in the garb and with the halo of Joking Jesus, a white jujube in his phosphorescent face.)

My methods are new and are causing surprise. To make the blind see I throw dust in their eyes.

STEPHEN: Kings and unicorns! (He falls back a pace.) Come somewhere and we'll... What was that girl saying?...

PRIVATE COMPTON: Eh, Harry, give him a kick in the knackers. Stick one into Jerry.

BLOOM: (To the privates, softly.) He doesn't know what he's saying. Taking a little more than is good for him. Absinthe, the greeneyed monster. I know him. He's a gentleman, a poet. It's all right.

STEPHEN: (Nods, smiling and laughing.) Gentleman, patriot, scholar and judge of impostors.

PRIVATE CARR: I don't give a bugger who he is.

PRIVATE COMPTON: We don't give a bugger who he is.

STEPHEN: I seem to annoy them. Green rag to a bull.

(Kevin Egan of Paris in black Spanish tasselled shirt and peep-o'-day boys hat signs to Stephen.)

KEVIN EGAN: H'lo. Bonjour! The vieille ogresse with the dents jaunes.

(Patrice Egan peeps from behind, his rabbit face nibbling a quince leaf.)

PATRICE: Socialiste!

DON EMILE PATRIZIO FRANZ RUPERT POPE HENNESSY: (In medieval hauberk, two wild geese volant on his helm, with noble indignation points a mailed hand against the privates.) Were those eykes to footboden, big grand porcos of johnyellows todos covered of gravy!

BLOOM: (To Stephen.) Come home. You'll get into trouble.

STEPHEN: (Swaying.) I don't avoid it. He provokes my intelligence.

BIDDY THE CLAP: One immediately observes that he is of patrician lineage.

THE VIRAGO: Green above the red, says he. Wolfe Tone.

THE BAWD: The red's as good as the green, and better. Up the soldiers! Up King Edward!

A ROUGH (Laughs.) Ay! Hands up to De Wet.

THE CITIZEN: (With a huge emerald muffler and shillelagh, calls.)

May the God above

Send down a cove

With teeth as sharp as razors

To slit the throat

Of the English dogs

That hanged our Irish leaders.

THE CROPPY BOY: (The rope noose round his neck, gripes in his issuing bowels with both hands.)

I bear no hate to a living thing, But love my country beyond the king.

RUMBOLD, DEMON BARBER: (Accompanied by two blackmasked assistants, advances with a gladstone bag which he opens.) Ladies and gents, cleaver purchased by Mrs Pearcy to slay Mogg. Knife with which Voisin dismembered the wife of a compatriot and hid remains in a sheet in the cellar, the unfortunate female's throat being cut from ear to ear. Phial containing arsenic retrieved from the body of Miss Barrow which sent Seddon to the gallows.

(He jerks the rope, the assistants leap at the victims legs and drag him downward, grunting: the croppy boys tongue protrudes violently.)

THE CROPPY BOY: Horhot ho hray ho rhother's hest.

(He gives up the ghost. A violent erection of the hanged sends gouts of sperm spouting through his death clothes on to the cobblestones. Mrs Bellingham, Mrs Yelverton Barry and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with their handkerchiefs to sop it up.)

RUMBOLD: I'm near it myself. (He undoes the noose.) Rope which hanged the awful rebel. Ten shillings a time as applied to His Royal Highness. (He plunges his head into the gaping belly of the hanged and draws out his head again clotted with coiled and smoking entrails.) My painful duty has now been done. God save the king!

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Dances slowly, solemnly, rattling his bucket and sings with soft contentment.)

On coronation day, on coronation day, O, Won't We have a merry time, Drinking whisky, beer and wine!

PRIVATE CARR: Here. What are you saying about my king?

STEPHEN: (Throws up his hands.) O, this is too monotonous! Nothing. He wants my money and my life, though want must be his master, for some brutish empire of his. Money I haven't. (He searches his pockets vaguely.) Gave it to someone.

PRIVATE CARR: Who wants your bleeding money?

STEPHEN: (Tries to move off.) Will some one tell me where I am least likely to meet these necessary evils? ?a se voit aussi à Paris. Not that I... But by Saint Patrick!...

(The women's heads coalesce. Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears seated on a toadstool, the deathflower of the potato blight on her breast.)

STEPHEN: Aha! I know you, grammer! Hamlet, revenge! The old sow that eats her farrow!

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (Rocking to and fro.) Ireland's sweetheart, the king of Spain's daughter, alanna. Strangers in my house, bad manners to them! (She keens with banshee woe.) Ochone! Ochone! Silk of the kine! (She wails.) You met with poor old Ireland and how does she stand?

STEPHEN: How do I stand you? The hat trick! Where's the third person of the Blessed Trinity? Soggarth Aroon? The reverend Carrion Crow.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Shrill.) Stop them from fighting!

A ROUGH: Our men retreated.

PRIVATE CARR: (Tugging at his belt.) I'll wring the neck of any bugger says a word against my fucking king.

BLOOM: (Terrified.) He said nothing. Not a word. A pure misunderstanding.

THE CITIZEN: Erin go bragh!

(Major Tweedy and the Citizen exhibit to each other medals, decorations, trophies of war wounds. Both salute with fierce hostility.)

PRIVATE COMPTON: Go it, Harry. Do him one in the eye. He's a proboer.

STEPHEN: Did I? When?

BLOOM: (To the redcoats.) We fought for you in South Africa, Irish missile troops. Isn't that history? Royal Dublin Fusiliers. Honoured by our monarch.

THE NAVVY: (Staggering past.) O, yes. O, God, yes! O, make the kwawr a krowawr! O! Bo!

(Casqued halberdiers in armour thrust forward a pentice of gutted spear points. Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible, in bearskin cap with hackle plume and accoutrements, with epaulette, gilt chevrons and sabretache, his breast bright with medals, toes the line. He gives the pilgrim warrior's sign of the knights templars.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (Growls gruffly.) Rorke's Drift! Up, guards, and at them! Mahal shalal hashbaz.

PRIVATE CARR: I'll do him in.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Waves the crowd back.) Fair play, here. Make a bleeding butcher's shop of the bugger.

(Massed bands blare Garryowen and God save the king.)

CISSY CAFFREY: They're going to fight. For me!

CUNTY KATE: The brave and the fair.

BIDDY THE: CLAP Methinks yon sable knight will joust it with the best.

CUNTY KATE: (Blushing deeply.) Nay, Madam. The gules doublet and merry Saint George for me!

STEPHEN: The harlot's cry from street to street Shall weave old Ireland's windingsheet.

PRIVATE CARR: (Loosening his belt, shouts.) I'll wring the neck of any fucking bastard says a word against my bleeding fucking king.

BLOOM: (Shakes Cissy Caffrey's shoulders.) Speak, you! Are you struck dumb? You are the link between nations and generations. Speak, woman, sacred lifegiver.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Alarmed seizes Private Carr's sleeve.) Amn't I with you? Amn't I your girl? Cissy's your girl. (She cries.) Police!

STEPHEN: (Ecstatically, to Cissy Caffrey.)

White thy fambles, red thy gan

And thy quarrons dainty is.

VOICES: Police!

DISTANT VOICES: Dublin's burning! Dublin's burning! On fire, on fire!

(Brimstone fires spring up. Dense clouds roll past. Heavy Gatling guns boom. Pandemonium. Troops deploy. Gallop of hoofs. Artillery. Hoarse commands. Bells clang. Backers shout. Drunkards bawl. Whores screech. Foghorns hoot. Cries of valour. Shrieks of dying. Pikes clash on cuirasses. Thieves rob the slain. Birds of prey, winging from the sea, rising from marsh lands, swooping from eyries, hover screaming, gannets, connorants, vultures, goshawks, climbing woodcocks, peregrines, merlin, blackgrouse, sea eagles, gulls, albatrosses, barnacle geese. The midnight sun is darkened. The earth trembles. The dead of Dublin from Prospect and Mount Jerome in white sheepskin overcoats and black goat-fell cloaks arise and appear to many. A chasm opens with a noiseless yawn. Tom Rochford, winner in athletes singlet and breeches, arrives at the head of the national hurdle handicap and leaps into the void. He is followed by a race of runners and leapers. In wild attitudes they spring from the brink. Their bodies plunge. Factory lasses with fancy clothes toss redhot Yorkshire baraabombs. Society ladies lift their skirts above their heads to protect themselves. laughing witches in red cutty sarks ride through the air on broomsticks. Quakerlyster plasters blisters. It rains dragon's teeth. Armed heroes spring up from furrows. They exchange in amity the pass of knights of the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O'Brien against Daniel O'Connell, Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M'Carthy against Parnell, Arthur Griffith against John Redmond John O'Leary against liar O'Johnny, lord Edward Fitzgerald against lord Gerald Fitzedward, The O'Donoghue of the Glens against The Glens of The Donoghue. On an eminence, the centre of the earth, rises the field altar of Saint Barbara. Black candles rise from its gospel and epistle horns. From the high barbicans of the tower two shafts of light fall on the smokepalled altarstone. On the altarstone Mrs Mina Purefoy, goddess of unreason, lies naked, fettered, a chalice resting on her swollen belly. Father Malachi O'Flynn, in a long petticoat and reversed chasuble, his two left feet back to the front, celebrates camp mash. The Reverend Mr Hugh C. Haines love MA. in a plain cassock and mortar board, his head and collar back to the front, holds over the celebrants head an open umbrella.)

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: Introibo ad altare diaboli.

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: To the devil which hath made glad my young days.

FATHER MALACHI O'FLYNN: (Takes from the chalice and elevates a blooddripping host.) Corpus Meum.

THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: (Raises high behind the celebrant's petticoats, revealing his grey bare hairy buttocks between which a carrot is stuck.) My body.

THE VOICE OF ALL THE DAMNED: Htengier Tnetopinmo Dog Drol eht rot, Aiulella!

(From on high the voice of Adonai calls.)

ADONAI: Dooooooooooog!

THE VOICE OF ALL THE BLESSED: Alleluia, for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth!

(From on high the voice of Adonai calls.)

ADONAI: Goooooooooood!

(In strident discord peasants and townsmen of mange and Green factions sing Kick the Pope and Daily, daily sing to Mary.)

PRIVATE CARR: (With ferocious articulation.) I'll do him in, so help me fucking Christ! I'll wring the bastard fucker's bleeding blasted fucking windpipe!

OLD GUMMY GRANNY: (Thrusts a dagger towards Stephen's hand.) Remove him, acushla. At 8.35 a.m. you will be in heaven and Ireland will be free. (She prays.) O good God, take him!

BLOOM: (Runs to Lynch.) Can't you get him away?

LYNCH: He likes dialectic, the universal language. Kitty! (To Bloom.) Get him away, you. He won't listen to me.

(He drags Kitty away.)

STEPHEN: (Points.) Exit Judas. Et laqueo se suspendit.

BLOOM: (Runs to Stephen.) Come along with me now before worse happens. Here's your stick.

STEPHEN: Stick, no. Reason. This feast of pure reason.

CISSY CAFFREY: (Pulling Private Carr.) Come on, you're boosed. He insulted me but I forgive him. (Shouting in his ear.) I forgive him for insulting me.

BLOOM: (Over Stephen's shoulder.) Yes, go. You see he's incapable.

PRIVATE CARR: (Breaks loose.) I'll insult him.

(He rushes towards Stephen, fists outstretched, and strikes him in the face. Stephen totters, collapses, falls stunned. He lies prone, his face to the sky, his hat rolling to the wall. Bloom follows and picks it up.)

MAJOR TWEEDY: (Loudly.) Carbine in bucket! cease fire! Salute!

THE RETRIEVER: (Barking furiously.) Ute ute ute ute ute ute uteute.

THE CROWD: Let him up! Don't strike him when he's down! Air! Who? The soldier hit him. He's a professor. Is he hurted? Don't manhandle him! He's fainted!

A HAG: What call had the redcoat to strike the gentleman and he under the influence. Let them go and fight the Boers!

THE BAWD: Listen to who's talking! Hasn't the soldier a right to go with his girl? He gave him the coward's blow.

(They grab at each other's hair, claw at each other and spit.)

THE RETRIEVER (Barking.) Wow wow wow.

BLOOM: (Shoves them back, loudly.) Get back, stand back!

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Tugging his comrade.) Here bugger off, Harry. There's the cops!

(Two raincaped watch, tall, stand in the group)

FIRST WATCH: What's wrong here?

PRIVATE COMPTON: We were with this lady and he insulted us and assaulted my chum. (The retriever barks.) Who owns the bleeding tyke?

CISSY CAFFREY: (With expectation.) Is he bleeding?

A MAN: (Rising from his knees.) No. Gone off. He'll come to all right.

BLOOM: (Glances sharply at the man.) Leave him to me. I can easily...

SECOND WATCH: Who are you? Do you know him?

PRIVATE CARR: (Lurches towards the watch.) He insulted my lady friend.

BLOOM: (Angrily.) You hit him without provocation. I'm a witness. Constable, take his regimental number.

SECOND WATCH: I don't want your instructions in the discharge of my duty.

PRIVATE COMPTON: (Pulling his comrade.) Here, bugger off, Harry. Or Bennett'll have you in the lockup.

PRIVATE CARR: (Staggering as he is pulled away.) God fuck old Bennett! He's a whitearsed bugger. I don't give a shit for him.

FIRST WATCH: (Taking out his notebook.) What's his name?

BLOOM: (Peering over the crowd.) I just see a car there. If you give me a hand a second, sergeant.

FIRST WATCH: Name and address.

(Corny Kelleher weepers round his hat, a death wreath in his hand, appears among the bystanders.)

BLOOM: (Quickly.) O, the very man! (He whispers.) Simon Dedalus' son. A bit sprung. Get those policemen to move those loafers back.

SECOND WATCH: Night, Mr Kelleher.

CORNY KELLEHER: (To the watch, with drawling eye.) That's all right. I know him. Won a bit on the races. Gold cup. Throwaway. (He laughs.) Twenty to one. Do you follow me?

FIRST WATCH: (Turns to the crowd.) Here, what are you all gaping at? Move on out of that.

(The crowd disperses slowly, muttering, down the lane.)

CORNY KELLEHER: Leave it to me, sergeant. That'll be all right. (He laughs, shaking his head.) We were often as bad ourselves, ay or worse. What? Eh, what?

FIRST WATCH: (Laughs.) I suppose so.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Nudges the second watch.) Come and wipe your name off the slate. (He lilts, wagging his head.) With my tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom. What, eh, do you follow me?

SECOND WATCH: (Genially.) Ah, sure we were too.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Winking.) Boys will be boys. I've a car round there.

SECOND WATCH: All right, Mr Kelleher. Good night.

CORNY KELLEHER: I'll see to that.

BLOOM: (Shakes hands with both of the watch in turn.) Thank you very much gentlemen, thank you. (He mumbles confidentially.) We don't want any scandal, you understand. Father is a well known, highly respected citizen. Just a little wild oats, you understand.

FIRST WATCH: O, I understand, sir.

SECOND WATCH: That's all right, Sir.

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

BLOOM: (Nods rapidly.) Naturally. Quite right. Only your bounden duty.

SECOND WATCH: It's our duty.

CORNY KELLEHER: Good night, men.

THE WATCH (Saluting together.) Night, gentlemen. (They move off with slow heavy tread.)

BLOOM: (Blows.) Providential you came on the scene. You have a car?.

CORNY KELLEHER: (Laughs, pointing his thumb over his right shoulder to the car brought up against the scaffolding.) Two commercials that were standing fizz in Jammet's. Like princes, faith. One of them lost two quid on the race. Drowning his grief and were on for a go with the jolly girls. So I landed them up on Behan's car and down to nighttown.

BLOOM: I was just going home by Gardiner street when I happened to...

CORNY KELLEHER: (Laughs.) Sure they wanted me to join in with the mots. No, by God, says I. Not for old stagers like myself and yourself. (He laughs again and leers with lacklustre eye.) Thanks be to God we have it in the house what, eh, do you follow me? Hah! hah! hah!

BLOOM: (Tries to laugh.) He, he, he! Yes. Matter of fact I was just visiting an old friend of mine there, Virag, you don't know him (poor fellow he's laid up for the past week) and we had a liquor together and I was just making my way home...

(The horse neighs.)

THE HORSE: Hohohohohohoh! Hohohohome!

CORNY KELLEHER: Sure it was Behan, our jarvey there, that told me after we left the two commercials in Mrs Cohen's and I told him to pull up and got off to see. (He laughs.) Sober hearsedrivers a specialty. Will I give him a lift home? Where does he hang out? Somewhere in Cabra, what?

BLOOM: No, in Sandycove, I believe, from what he let drop.

(Stephen, prone, breathes to the stars. Corny Kelleher asquint, drawls at the horse. Bloom in gloom, looms down.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (Scratches his nape.) Sandycove! (He bends down and calls to Stephen.) Eh! (He calls again.) Eh! He's covered with shavings anyhow. Take care they didn't lift anything off him.

BLOOM: No, no, no. I have his money and his hat here and stick.

CORNY KELLEHER: Ah well, he'll get over it. No bones broken. Well, I'll shove along. (He laughs.) I've a rendezvous in the morning. Burying the dead. Safe home!

THE HORSE: (Neighs.) Hohohohohome.

BLOOM: Good night. I'll just wait and take him along in a few...

(Corny Kelleher returns to the outside car and mounts it. The horse harness jingles.)

CORNY KELLEHER: (From the car, standing.) Night.

BLOOM: Night.

(The jarvey chucks the reins and raises his whip encouragingly. The car and horse back slowly, awkwardly and turn. Corny Kelleher on the sideseat sways his head to and fro in sign of mirth at Blooms plight. The jarvey joins in the mute pantomimic merriment nodding from the farther seat. Bloom shakes his head in mute mirthful reply. With thumb and palm Corny Kelleher reassures that the two bobbies will allow the sleep to continue for what else is to be done. With a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is exactly what Stephen needs. The car jingles tooraloom round the corner of the tooraloom lane. Corny Kelleher again reassuralooms with his hand. Bloom with his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher that he is reassuraloomtay. The tinkling hoofs and jingling harness grow fainter with their tooralooloolooloo lay. Bloom, holding in his hand Stephens hat festooned with shavings and ashplant, stands irresolute. Then he bends to him and shakes him by the shoulder.)

BLOOM: Eh! Ho! (There is no answer he bends again.) Mr Dedalus! (There is no answer.) The name if you call. Somnambulist. (He bends again and, hesitating, brings his mouth near the face of the prostrate form.) Stephen! (There is no answer. He calls again.) Stephen!

STEPHEN: (Groans.) Who? Black panther vampire. (He sighs and stretches himself then murmurs thickly with prolonged vowels.)

Who... drive... Fergus now. And pierce... wood's woven shade?...

(He turns on his left side, sighing, doubling himself together.)

BLOOM: Poetry. Well educated. Pity. (He bends again and undoes the buttons of Stephen's waistcoat.) To breathe. (He brushes the wood shavings from Stephen's clothes with light hands and fingers.) One pound seven. Not hurt anyhow. (He listens.) What!

STEPHEN: (Murmurs.)

... shadows... the woods

... white breast... dim...

(He stretches out his arms, sighs again and curls his body. Bloom holding his hat and ashplant stands erect. A dog barks in the distance. Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the ashplant. He looks down on Stephen's face and form.)

BLOOM: (Communes with the night.) Face reminds me of his poor mother. In the shady wood. The deep white breast. Ferguson, I think I caught. A girl. Some girl. Best thing could happen him... (He murmurs.)... swear that I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any part or parts, art or arts... (He murmurs.) in the rough sands of the sea. a cabletow's length from the shore... where the tide ebbs ... and flows...

(Silent, thoughtful, alert, he stands on guard, his fingers at his lips in the attitude of secret master. Against the dark wall a figure appears slowly, a fairy boy of eleven, a changeling, kidnapped, dressed in an Eton suit with glass shoes and a little bronze helmet, holding a book in his hand. He reads from right to left inaudibly, smiling, kissing the page.)

BLOOM: (Wonderstruck, calls inaudibly.) Rudy!

RUDY: (Gazes unseeing into Bloom's eyes and goes on reading, kissing, smiling. He has a delicate mauveface. On his suit he has diamond and ruby buttons. In his free left hand he holds a slim ivory cane with a violet howknot. A white lambkin peeps out of his waistcoat pocket.)

-------------------------------------------

[1]作者在本章中使以前写过的人物陆续出现。拉白奥蒂，参看第十章注[56]。

[2]这里的“煤炭色”，海德一九八九年版作“珊瑚色”（见第350页第7行）。

[3]白痴吐字不清，把“敬礼”说成“金立”，“西边儿”说成“施边儿”。老爷儿指太阳。

[4]]这里的“移动一下”，海德一九八九年版作“打呼噜”（见第350页末一行）。

[5]艾尔曼在所著《詹姆斯・乔伊斯》（第459页）中说，有个叫亨利・卡尔的英国驻苏黎世领事馆官员和一个叫康普顿的人曾开罪过乔伊斯，所以这里他借着给这两个士兵取名来报复。

[6]卡文为旧北爱尔兰省的三个郡之一，现为爱尔兰共和国的一部分。库特黑尔和贝尔士尔贝特均为卡文郡小镇。

[7]“因斯蒂芬身穿黑服，戴礼帽，所以这里康普顿戏称他为牧师。丈中的西茜・卡弗里、伊迪・博德曼和伯莎・萨波尔，均见第十三章。

[8]“个个都得到拯救”以及斯蒂芬在前面所引用的“我瞧见……路亚”、“凡是挨近水的人”，原文均为拉丁文。

[9]梅克伦堡街是都柏林红灯区的一条街，现易名为铁路街。

[10]斯塔基莱特人指亚理斯多德。荡妇指其妾赫皮莉斯，均见第九章注[352]。

[11]莪默・伽亚谟（1048-1122），波斯诗人。英国诗人爱德华・菲茨杰拉德（1809-1883）曾把他的“四行诗”（流传下来的真作不超过102行）译为英文出版（1859），其中第十二段有“一瓮酒，一个面包”之句。

[12]山猫的音译为林克斯，与林奇发音相近。

[13]“无……女”，原文为法语。乔治娜・约翰逊是个牧师之女，曾与斯蒂芬发生过关系。参看第九章注[100]。

[14]原文为拉丁文，是教徒对弥撤开始时，神父吟诵的“我要走向天主的祭台”一语所作的回应。只是这里把“神”改成了“女神”。

[15]这里把前文中的“面包和酒瓮”一语扯在一起了。

[16]综合照片，指由几张底片合印成的照片。下文中的格拉顿，指亨利・格拉顿的塑像（见第十章注[74]）。波尔迪，见第四章注[39]。

[17]北极光，原文为拉丁文。

[18]他，指博伊兰。

[19]贝格尔灌木位于都柏林市中心东南的郊区。

[20]这里套用一支通俗歌曲的词句：“苏格兰着火啦，苏格兰着火啦！”把“苏格兰”改成“伦敦”。

[21]这是用来撒沙借以清除铁轨上的泥和垃圾的电动车。

[22]这是爱尔兰人捉弄警察的把戏。把帽子扣在人行道边石的粪堆上，骗警察说，帽子底下有只鸟，叫警察看着，自己乘机溜掉。

[23]桑道操，参看第四章注[37]。下文中的护身符，参看第四章注[4]。

[24]指坐落在马博特街上的奥贝恩兄弟茶叶酒类批发店。

[25]“晚上……呀？”原文为西班牙语。

[26]“马博特街”，原文力爱尔兰语。

[27]“谢谢”和“再见”，原文为法语。

[28]“是的……爹”，原文为德语。

[29]莫森索尔，见第五章注[28]。

[30]这是以维多利亚女工的丈夫艾伯特命名的表链。

[31]“不……徒”，原文为依地语。

[32]寡妇吐安基是根据《一千零一夜》中神灯的故事改编的哑剧《阿拉丁》的同名主人公之母。

[33]嗅盐是治昏厥、头痛用的碳酸铵镇定剂。

[34]这里，“天主羔羊”指印有羔羊（耶稣的象征）图案的徽章。

[35]驼桥是驮在骆驼背上可供数人乘坐的凉亭状座位。

[36]“女性的小天堂！”是由混合语构成的咒语。参看第十章注[162]及有关正文。

[37]“到广阔的天地中去”一语，出自《被遗弃的丽亚》第3幕第2场，参看第五章注[24]。

[38]原文为意大利语，是《唐乔万尼》中泽莉娜的唱词。参看第四章注[49]。

[39]“沃利奥”是意大利语“要”的音译。参看第四章注[52]。

[40]布赖迪・凯利，参看第十四章注[233]。

[41]“我……你和你”，这里，格蒂把天主教徒在婚礼上的祝文引错了。应作：“我把在世上的全部财产给予你。”她不懂古语，把原文中的“给予你”（thee endow）说成“你和你”（thee and thou）。thee和thou分别为“你”的宾格和主格。参看第十三章注[15]。

[42]在《奥瑟罗》第1幕第1场中，伊阿古曾咒骂奥瑟罗是“老黑羊”、“黑马”。

[43]尤金・斯特拉顿，见第六章注[23]。

[44]全称是利弗莫尔弟兄世界驰名黑脸歌唱团，由一批化装成黑脸的白人演员演唱黑人歌曲，一八九四年曾在都柏林公演。

[45]巧辩演员分别站在发问者两端，手持响板和手鼓，做滑稽表演。

[46]博赫弟克，指汤姆和萨姆・博赫。他们组织的黑脸歌唱团也于一八九四年开始在都柏林演出。

[47]萨姆勃是西班牙语“黑人”的音译。

[48]原名班卓琴，源于非洲的一种弦乐器。十九世纪由黑奴在美国推广，后输入欧洲。

[49]白色卡菲尔，参看第十二章注[525]。

[50]这四句歌词是就十九世纪流行的一首美国歌曲《我曾在铁路上工作》略作了改动。

[51]乔西・鲍威尔，参看第八章注[66]。

[52]这是一种猜谜游戏，名称取自美国测心术者欧文・毕晓普（1847-1889）。他也表演魔术，在英伦三岛曾颇有名气。

[53]这里把歌词“为了英国，为了家园和丽人”中的“英国”，改成了“爱尔兰”，参看第十章注[57]。

[54]摩莉演唱的一首歌曲的名字，参看第四章注[50]。

[55]圣诞节期间，用w寄生枝编成的装饰。

[56]“一夜……候”一语出自《哈姆莱特》第3幕第2场末尾王子的独白。

[57]原文为意大利语，这是摩莉演唱的一首歌曲名，参看第四章注[49]。

[58]原文为意大利语。参看第四章注[51]及有关正文。

[59]“美……兽”，参看第十三章注[93]。

[60]布林曾梦见黑桃么走上楼梯来了，参看第八章注[70]。

[61]天翻地覆是一种室内游戏，中签者须表演一些滑稽的或显然力不从心的绝技。

[62]这是布卢姆在报上读到的一段广告。参看第五章注[18]及有关正文。下文中的帕默夫人，参看第五章注[24]及有关正文。

[63]芬顿是苏格兰一渔村名。

[64]一种淡啤酒。酿成后贮存数月，澄清后饮用。

[65]布赖特氏病，参看第十一章注[130]。

[66]据艾尔曼的《詹姆斯・乔伊斯》（第46页注），乔・加拉赫太太是乔伊斯家一友人。

[67]地狱门位于马博特街与蒂龙街的交叉点。因这里聚集着下等妓院，故名。

[68]詹姆斯・德尔旺是都柏林一营造业者。把啤酒桶误当成尿桶是当时流行的一则笑话。

[69]当时在合法的酒吧，黑啤酒每瓶才四便士，一先令可买三瓶。

[70]贝洛港营盘，参看第八章注[220]。

[71]“我……子汉”，见第七章注[75]。

[72]即珀西・贝内特，见第八章注[220]。

[73]这是《韦克斯福德的男子汉》（见第七章注[753]中的两句。“磨人的锁链”前省略了“挣断”二字。

[74]“野鹅”，见第三章注[68]。

[75]指都柏林的一家贷款给贫民的机构。

[76]许多印度教徒相信，被讫里什那神像车辗死即可升夭，因而每年把此神像供在车上举行巡行仪式时，总有人纵身投于轮下。

[77]这种烟卷的叶子是竖着割下的。

[78]这是布卢姆为摩莉买的一本书的名字。参看第十章注[122]及有关正文。

[79]“多……士”是当天上午西蒙・迪达勒斯在马车中说过的俏皮话。参看第六章开头部分。

[80]“逢场作戏”和下文中的“各有所好”，原文均为法语。

[81]加里欧文，参看第十二章注[33]。

[82]这里，巡警把“布卢姆”当作拉丁文名词，罗列其四种变格：主格、所有格、与格、直接宾格。

[83]这里用海鸥叫声表达了“他给了班伯里馅饼”一语。

[84]关于鲍勃・多兰和狗，参看第十二章注[173]至[175]之间的正文。

[85]马菲和下文中的鲁碧，均见第四章注[55]。

[86]俗称灰猎狗。一种善跑的狗，主要用于追捕野兔、鹿和狼。

[87]掌握印度咒文意味着能够对人和兽施催眠术。

[88]牙科医生布卢姆，参看第十章注[202]。

[89]朱利叶斯・布鲁姆爵士（生于1843）是个英国富翁，曾在埃及作官，被称作布鲁姆・帕夏（本义为首脑，转指伊斯兰国家的高级官衔）。一八九0年改赴奥地利维也纳任职。

[90]“好家伙！”原文为德语。

[91]一八0二年拿破仑为表彰有功勋者而成立的荣誉团体名。

[92]陆海军青年军官俱乐部是伦敦的一家很有名气的俱乐部，只有中级军官才有资格参加。下文中的约翰・亨利・门顿，见第六章注[107]。

[93]《卡斯蒂利亚的玫瑰》，参看第七章注[82]。布卢姆是英语“开花”的音译，维拉格为匈牙利语“花”的音译。

[94]“脖……圣巾”，见第五章注[54]及有关正文。

[95]“迷失的你！”参看第七章注[10]、[11]。

[96]师傅是共济会里对资深会员的称呼。在这里，布卢姆利用自己对共济会的知识，想让对方觉得他是有来头的。

[97]《里昂邮件》是英国作家查理・里德（1814-1884）根据一出法国戏改骗成的。该剧写的是实际发生的一桩冤案：法国人莱苏尔柯被控杀害了邮递员并抢走邮件，被处死刑。四年后（1800），长相酷似莱苏尔柯的真凶杜博斯才落网。

[98]蔡尔兹杀兄案，见第六章注[87]、第七章注[185]及有关正文。

[99]“宁……有罪”，见第六章注[88]及有关正文。

[100]这支橄榄球队以贝克蒂夫大教堂（其遗址在都柏林西南方15英里处）命名，在一九0四年是一支劲旅。

[101]据《旧约・士师记》第12章第1至6节，基列人占领了约旦河上的几个渡口后，为了防止以法莲人逃跑，要求其逃兵以“示播列”为口令。以法莲人口音不纯，必说成“示布罗列”，遂被杀死。

[102]当时英国军队中确实有个名叫威利斯・特威迪的陆军少将，但他并非布卢姆的岳父。一八七九年在南非东部爆发祖鲁战争，英国军队成功地保卫了洛克滩，最后击败了祖鲁人。两个指挥官均被提升为少将，但特威迪根本未参加此次战役。

[103]这里，“社会中坚”是意译，《马太福音》第5章第13节中直译为“世上的盐”。

[104]“支持布尔人！”和“乔・张伯伦”，见第八章注[121]、[123]。

[105]这里，布卢姆把两个同姓不同名的军人弄混了。在一九0四年，凤凰公园中竖有休・郭富（1779-1869）的骑马塑像。鸦片战争期间（1839-1842），他曾率军入侵中国，一八四三年在印度任总司令。而这里的“那场令人心神恍惚的战争”指的却是南非战争（支持那场战争的人们曾演唱《心神恍惚的乞丐》一歌，为士兵募款。参看第九章注[67]）。当时，休伯特・德拉波伊尔・郭富（又译为高夫，1870-1963），曾以长矛骑兵团成员的身分参加。

[106]在南非战争中，斯皮昂・科帕（南非纳塔尔省的一座山）和布隆方丹（现为南非共和国奥兰治自由邦首府）均为重要战场。

[107]吉姆・布卢德索是美国人约翰・海（1838-1905）所作歌曲《“美牧野”的吉姆・布卢德索》中的主人公。他是“美牧野”号船的船长。

[108]挖苦《自由人周刊》和《自由人报》，参看第七章注[7]及有关正文。

[109]“会使……惊”是加拉赫说过的话，见第七章注[133]及有关正文。

[110]“蓝袋”是警察的外号。因英国警察穿的蓝色长裤一般是肥大而不合身的。

[111]博福伊，见第四章注[79]。

[112]文人，原文为法语。

[113]“大笑……手”一语，见第四章注[81]及有关正文。

[114]J．B.平克尔是乔伊斯在伦敦的出版代理人。见艾尔曼的《詹姆斯・乔伊斯》（第384页）。

[115]理查・哈里斯・巴勒姆（1788-1845）所写的韵文体传说《里姆斯的寒鸦》中的寒鸦，曾偷过一只戒指。通常“寒鸦”一词即用来骂饶舌的笨蛋。

[116]犯罪事实，原文为拉丁文。

[117]指布卢姆曾把刊登在报纸上的博福伊的小说扯下半页当手纸用，见第四章末尾。

[118]指用毛刷自卫，参看第十四章注[201]及有关正文。

[119]乔治・弗特里尔，参看第十二章注[640]及有关正文。

[120]多克雷尔，参看第八章注[58]。

[121]下列颠合金是锡、铜、锑的银白色合金。

[122]这里，布卢姆把自己听到的关于往泥水匠那桶黑啤酒里撒尿的故事（见本章注[681]，当成自己干的，供述出来。

[123]《珍闻》，见第四章注[79]。

[124]恶作剧的牛津，指牛津大学欺侮新生的举动。

[125]法老是埃及国王的通称。

[126]原文为拉丁文。

[127]“他……事”是父王的鬼魂对哈姆莱待所说的话，见《哈姆莱特》第1幕第5场。

[128]《摩西法典》，参看第七章注[189]及有关正文。

[129]“看不见的手”，参看第八章注[134]。

[130]布卢姆提出，每欠债主一英镑，就赔偿他一便士。

[131]德鲁加茨，参看第四章注[22]。

[132]原文为德语，参看第四章注[25]及有关正文。

[133]泰勒，参看第七章注[199]。

[134]西摩・布希，参看第六章注[87]。

[135]“净化……的话”，参看第七章注[192]及有关正文。

[136]卡伦和科尔曼是布卢姆在报纸的讣闻栏看到的名字。参看第六章注[21]及有关正文。

[137]维尔・狄龙已于一九0四年四月二日去世，参看第八章注[53]。

[138]罗伯特・鲍尔爵士，参看第八章注[36]。鲍勃是罗伯特的昵称。

[139]这里把爱尔兰政治家、法官巴里・耶尔弗顿（1736-1805）的姓名颠倒过来了。

[140]蒂珀雷里是芒斯特省一郡，分为南、北两个行政区。

[141]詹姆斯・洛夫伯奇，参看第十章注[121]。

[142]《蚱蜢》是法国人亨利・迈尔哈克（1831-1897）和卢多维克・哈勒维（1834-1908）所作三幕喜剧，由约翰・H・德拉菲尔德译成英文，于一八七九年搬上舞台。这里的御前公演指在总督面前演出。

[143]邓辛克，见第八章注[35]。

[144]查理一保罗・德・科克（见第四章注[58]）所著小说《系了三条紧身褡的姑娘》，于一八七八年在巴黎出版。

[145]索恩利・斯托克爵士（1845-1912）是都柏林一著名外科医生。

[146]蓝胡子是欧洲传说中曾经接连杀害几个老婆的男人。有各种版本，其中以法国作家查尔斯・佩劳特（1628-1703）所写的为著。

[147]摩是摩西的简称，参看第九章注[297]。

[148]《穿皮衣的维纳斯》是奥地利小说家利奥波德・冯・扎赫尔-马佐赫（1836-1895）所著小说。受虐狂者塞弗林称女主人公旺达为“穿皮衣的维纳斯”，并从受她虐待中获得满足。

[149]默雯・塔尔博伊贵妇人，见第五章注[11]。

[150]全爱尔兰队和爱尔兰第二队是由一流选手组成的马球队，队员都是从驻守爱尔兰的部队中调来的。

[151]唐璜，参看第九章注[248]。这里暗指好色之徒。

[152]徒步斗牛士和前文中的女士，原文均为西班牙语。

[153]这里是严加惩罚意。杰克・拉但曾打赌说，他要从莫里斯敦一路跳舞跳到都柏林，每浪（英国长度单位，八分之一英里）换一下舞步。莫里斯敦距都柏林有二十几英里。

[154]指马贩子把生姜塞在萎靡不振的马匹尾巴底下，使它显得精神抖擞。

[155]天命，原丈为土耳其语。

[156]戴维・斯蒂芬斯，见第七章注[5]。

[157]《圣心使者》，又名《爱尔兰玫瑰经》，发行于都柏林的天主教月报。

[158]这是阿拉伯与地中海一带的俚语，“性交”的音译。

[159]无名氏指身穿胶布雨衣的人，参看第六章注[153]。詹姆斯・克拉伦斯・曼根写过一首题为《无名氏》的诗。

[160]指赛马时，根据马的年龄规定负载重量。

[161]辫子给铰掉，指失去贞操。

[162]杀人犯杰克是一个英国凶手的绰号。一八八八年他在伦敦杀害了多名妓女。

[163]弗雷德里克・福基纳，参看第十二章注[331]。他是当时的记录法官，参看第七章注[158]。石像指摩西石像，参看第七章注[189]。

[164]英国法官在宣布死刑时，照例戴上黑帽子。

[165]头盖帽是紧紧箍在头上的无边帽，大多用绸料或天鹅绒制成。

[166]约翰・范宁，参看第七章注[26]。亨利・克莱，参看第十章注[180]。

[167]霍・朗博尔德，参看第十二章注[161]。

[168]对记录法官应称作阁下，而不是陛下。

[169]朗博尔德住在利物浦，该市位于默西河口。

[170]这原是斯威夫特的《文雅绝妙会话大全》中语。

[171]“铁……着”，参看第四章末尾。

[172]“姑……软”，参看第十三章布卢姆与格蒂在海滩上萍水相遇的场面。

[173]“那……吧，”第七章曾提到海因斯欠布卢姆钱的事。

[174]当时在黑岩村有个叫作托马斯・D。菲纽肯的大夫，距迪格纳穆居住的沙丘有三英里。

[175]“我是……听着！”系套用父王的鬼魂对哈姆莱特王子所说的话，只是把“我父亲”改成帕狄・迪格纳穆了。见《哈姆莱特》第1幕第5场。

[176]“以扫的声音”，见第九章注[473]。

[177]意思是说，缩写的《要理问答》并没提到有鬼魂。

[178]当天早晨布卢姆对摩莉用过“转生”一词。下文中的“哦，别转文啦！”是摩莉的回答。见第四章注[53]及有关正文。

[179]约翰・奥康内尔，见第六章注[134]及有关正文。

[180]科菲神父，参看第六章注[111]。

[181]呐咪内，参看第六章注[112]。下面，神父吟诵的是“Dominusvobiscum”（主与尔偕焉），布卢姆却听成是“Jacobs.Vobiscuibs”。“vos”（尔等）为拉丁文。“biscuits”（饼干）为英语。

[182]一般的乐音都是复音，一个复音中，除去基音（频率最低的纯音）外，所有其余的纯音均是陪音（也作泛音）。

[183]胜利牌留声机的商标是蹲坐在留声机旁倾听音乐的一只狗，旁边写着：“他主人的声音。”

[184]“死亡”，原文作U.P.,参看第八章注[71]。

[185]钥匙议院，见第七章注[27]。

[186]这是曾出入墓穴的老鼠，见第六章注[185]及有关正文。

[187]关于汤姆・罗赤福特发明的那架显示节目番号的机器以及他跳进阴沟检修口救人的事，参看第十章注[103][107]及有关正文。

[188]卡洛是爱尔兰伦斯特省一郡，其首府也名卡洛。《跟我去卡洛》是都柏林人帕特里克・麦考尔所作的一首歌曲，颂扬爱尔兰民族英雄费伊・麦克休。奥伯恩（1544-1597）。

[189]佐伊是希腊文“生命”的音译，而布卢姆的母亲婚前姓希金斯。

[190]麦克太太是都柏林一老鸨，她所在的红灯区有麦克镇之称。

[191]斯利珀斯莱珀老妈妈是象征爱尔兰的“贫穷的老妪”之一。参看第一章注[63]。

[192]梅西雅斯，参看第六章注[159]。

[193]女都，见威廉・布莱克的长诗《四天神》。

[194]“耶路……美”，原文为希伯来文，见《雅歌》第1首第9节。

[195]阿帕切是北美西北部印第安人。

[196]沃尔特・雷利爵士，见第九章注[310]。他曾于一五八四年赴今北卡罗来纳。一五九五年率领远征队到圭亚那。

[197]参看第十四章注[341]。

[198]牲畜市场位于都柏林西北部，从都柏林用船往外运牲畜，必须先从利菲河沿岸的以上五个选区中穿行。白天在送葬的马车里布卢姆就曾谈到铺设电车道的想法。参看第六章注[75]及有关正文。

[199]“谁能获得好处？”原文为拉丁文。

[200]范德狄肯是一艘名叫“漂泊的荷兰人”的幽灵船的船长。由于触犯了神明，该船注定永远在海上漂泊。“金融界”与“冒险家”则是把这位船长和美国航运与铁路巨头科尼利厄斯・范德比尔特（1794-1877）扯到一起。科・范德比尔特及其后代被叫作“冒险的金融家”。

[201]蒂莫西・哈林顿（1851-1910），爱尔兰政治家、爱国志士，曾连任三届都柏林市长（1901、1902、1903）。

[202]“他们的……永”，这里把《弥赛亚》（参看第八章注[281]）中所套用的《启示录》第11章第15节的句子改成相反的意思了。

[203]用鲜花和彩条装饰起来的柱子，五朔节期间少男少女围绕着它跳民间舞。

[204]“十万个欢迎”，原文为爱尔兰语。“以色……好”，原文为希伯来文。这里把巴兰的预言“以色列王的帐棚多么美好”一句中的“的帐棚”，省略了（见《旧约・民数记》第24章第5节）。

[205]云柱，参看第七章注[218]。下文中的《我们的一切誓约》，原文为希伯来文。这是犹太教徒在赎罪日前夕所吟咏的祷文题目。

[206]罗马帝国的军徽以鹰为标志。

[207]约翰・霍华德・巴涅尔，参看第八章注[148]。阿斯隆是爱尔兰韦斯特米斯郡城镇。

[208]约瑟夫・哈钦森，见第十章注[184]。

[209]一八00年英格兰议会与爱尔兰议会合并，二十八位爱尔兰人被选入上议院，任终身制议员。

[210]在一九0四年，唐郡兼康纳主教为托马斯・詹姆斯・韦兰（1830-1907）。

[211]慈悲剑是英王加冕仪式上所持的无尖剑，以表示仁慈。

[212]每年在纪念圣斯蒂芬殉教的日子（12月26日），爱尔兰孩子手执缠了丝带的荆豆枝（他们假定丝带里面藏着鹪鹩的尸体），挨家挨户唱着：“给我们一便士来埋葬鹪鹩。”

[213]原文是双关语，直译是：布卢姆的天气。

[214]“太阳……射”，这里的太阳为爱尔兰自治的象征。参看第四章注[7]及有关正文。

[215]这种宣誓办法见于《创世记》第24章第2至3节：“他对……仆人说：‘把你的手放在我双腿之间发誓。’”

[216]“我……手”，原文为拉丁文。这里把向罗马人民宣布新教皇加冕时的语句中的“教皇”，改为“刽子手”。

[217]科-依-诺尔是波斯语“山之光”的音译，系现存宝石中最古老的一颗椭圆形钻石。

[218]“幸运的纽带”，原文为拉丁文。罗马皇帝卡利古拉（12-41）确曾把他的爱马封为执政官。

[219]塞勒涅是希腊神话中的月亮女神。

[220]这里把爱尔兰（爱琳是其古称）比作迦南（应许给以色列人的土地）。参看第七章注[220]。

[221]这里暗喻爱尔兰民族英雄查理・斯图尔特・巴涅尔（参看第二章注[81]）认为绿色是不吉利的。

[222]莱迪史密斯是南非纳塔尔省西部城镇。

[223]“前……半！”一语出自丁尼生的《轻骑旅）（1854）一诗的首句。

[224]“一……啦”，参看第十一章注[7]。

[225]“忠诚的”，原文为拉丁文。“士兵”，原文为希伯来文。

[226]萨拉逊人，现泛指阿拉伯人或伊斯兰教徒。

[227]詹姆斯・斯蒂芬斯，参看第二章注[54]。

[228]布卢姆曾从老妪手里买过点心，参看第八章注[28]及有关正文。

[229]“布卢姆撒冷”是套用“耶路撒冷”，见第十二章注[503]。

[230]据阿瑟・格里菲思的《匈牙利的复兴》（见第十二章注[537]）记载，在庆祝匈牙利取得部分独立时，弗兰西斯・约瑟夫一世（1830-1916）曾受到“来自匈牙利各郡的五十二个工人的喝采”。

[231]德尔旺，参看本章注[68]。

[232]原文为拉丁文。这是古罗马时代参加角斗者在比赛开始前时向皇帝致的辞。

[233]“手指”（finger）系根据海德一九八九年版（第395页倒4行）译出。莎士比亚书屋一九二二年版（第458页第13行）作“figure”，意思是“形状”、“人影”。

[234]有个叫作约翰・明托施的苏格兰人曾为罗怕特・埃米特（见第六章注[186]）管理一座秘密军火库，后来向塞尔少校（见第十章注[143]）告密。希金斯，参看本章注[189]）。

[235]为了纪念耶稣为门徒洗脚一事，每年在复活节前的星期四，英王向贫民施舍抚恤金。

[236]杰耶斯溶液，指伦敦的杰耶斯卫生公司所出产的下水道消毒剂。大赦是天主教名词，指信徒犯罪后通过忏悔并行善功（如念经等），在天主面前获得宽免罪罚若干天。

[237]匈牙利皇家特许彩票，参看第八章注[64]。

[238]《怎样育婴》（费城，1898）的作者为J．P.克罗泽・格里菲思（1856-1941）。

[239]杜比达特小姐，参看第八章注[242]。

[240]小爹是传统上农民对沙皇的称呼。

[241]罗伊格比夫，参看第十三章注[138]。

[242]“每……尺”是当天上午布卢姆从他早先看过的一张照片引起的联想，参看第五章注[6]及有关正文。

[243]“万……蛋”，参看第八章注[71]。

[244]“淘气”，参看第十一章注[36]。

[245]巴特里，参看第一章注[84]。

[246]这是犹太教举行仪式时用的乐器，音译为“绍法”。

[247]锡安旗象征犹太人的选民身份。

[248]“阿列夫”至“达列特”是头四个希伯来字母的音译。

[249]《哈加达》书，见第七章注[35]。

[250]门柱圣卷，参看第十三章注[159]。

[251]合礼，犹太教用语，一般指食物符合饮食禁忌要求。但也用于其他物件，如礼拜用的号角等。

[252]赎罪日，参看第八章注[17]。

[253]再献圣殿节是犹太教节日（在公历12月），纪念公元前一六五年，把出路撒冷第二圣殿重新献给上帝。

[254]罗施・哈沙纳是犹太新年（在公历9、10月间）。

[255]圣约之子会是历史最悠久而规模最大的犹太人服务性组织。在世界许多国家设有男、女和青年组织。

[256]受诫礼是犹太教各派普遍实行的典礼。男子满十三岁经过此礼就必须谨守一切诫命。无酵饼原是为了纪念犹太人离开埃及的日子而吃的未发酵的饼。见《出埃及记》第13章。

[257]梅殊加是依地语（十世纪以前，德系犹太人广泛使用的语言），参看第八章注[79]。

[258]这是犹太男子做早祷时所披的围巾。

[259]吉米・亨利，参看第十章注[179]。

[260]但尼尔是以色列人的著名士师（统治者）。夏洛克和葛莱西安诺都曾把鲍西娅比作但尼尔，见《威尼斯商人》第4幕第1场。

[261]彼得・奥布赖恩是个精明过人的法官，以善于断案著称。

[262]原文作pisser，也含有“小便者”意，下文中他向布卢姆提出了“膀胱有毛病怎么办？”这个问题。

[263]-[266]原文俱为拉丁文。

[263]-[266]原文俱为拉丁文。

[263]-[266]原文俱为拉丁文。

[263]-[266]原文俱为拉丁文。

[267]克里斯・卡利南，见第七章注[156]。

[268]毕宿五即金牛座阿尔法，为金牛座中之红色巨星。参看第十四章注[246]。卡利南这个提问的正确答案是：0．048弧秒。布卢姆所说的却是他当天看到的广告牌上的数字。见第八章注[32]。

[269]西欧民间迷信，谓双胞胎乃两个父亲所生。

[270]拉里・奥罗克，见第四章注[8]及有关正文。

[271]酒吧根据所领执照，每周供应六天或七天酒。这里，拉里在要求布卢姆允许他每周卖八天酒。

[272]钥匙议院，参看第七章注[27]、[28]。

[273]“大自然之子”，指基督教徒，模仿“光之子”（“光”指耶稣）这一称呼。参看《约福音》第12章第36节。“三英亩土地和一头母牛”是英国土地改革家杰西・科林斯（1831-1920）提出的口号。他竭力主张农民拥有耕地。

[274]白天在送葬途中布卢姆曾谈到设置殡仪电车的计划所引起的想法。参看第六章注[75]。

[275]戴维・伯恩是个酒吧老板，见第八章注[222]及有关正文。

[276]美臀维纳斯，见第九章注[301]。

[277]肉欲维纳斯，见第十四章注[353]。

[278]轮回维纳斯，见第四章注[53]。

[279]当天上午在教堂里，布卢姆曾从马丁・坎宁翰（参看第五章注[52]）联想到康米神父，接着又想起法利神父，当时确实有个耶稣会会士叫查尔斯・法利神父。

[280]主教派认为，教会的最高权力应属于主教团，教皇只是主教团的代表而已。

[281]赖尔登老大太，见第六章注[69]。

[282]葛罗甘老婆婆，见第一章注[54]。

[283]古老甜蜜的情歌，见第四章注[50]。

[284]吐啦噜，见第五章第一段末尾。

[285]“独脚”霍罗翰，见第五章注[10]。

[286]布卢姆是在模仿利内翰所做的谜语，见第七章注[124]，第十四章注[365]。

[287]西奥多・普里福伊，见第十四章注[112]、[283]及有关正文。

[288]亚历山大・约・道维，见第八章注[8]。

[289]门德斯山羊是埃及神话中的三种圣兽之一，象征生殖力。

[290]低地各镇，指所多玛和蛾摩拉，见第四章注[34]。

[291]《新约・启示录》里没有直接提到白牛。第4章第7节有“第二个像牛犊”之句。第13章第11节作：“我又看见另有一兽从地中上来，有两角如同羊羔，说话好像龙。”

[292]新教徒骂罗马天主教会为绯红女，此词出自《启示录》第17章第3至5节：“我看见一个女人骑着一只绊红兽；那兽遍体写满了亵渎的名号。那女人穿着绯红大紫的衣服，额上写着……‘大巴比伦――世上淫妇和一切可憎之物的母！’”

[293]凯列班，见第一章注[22]。

[294]福克斯是巴涅尔在私信中用过的一个假名字。

[295]“这……疯了”，出自奥丽维娅对马伏里奥的评语，见《第十二夜》第3幕第4场。

[296]“就像……洁”，出自波塞摩斯的台词，见《辛白林》第2幕第5场。

[297]毕萨尼奥把主人要他刺杀伊摩琴的信拿给伊摩琴看的时候说：“谣言……散播它的恶意的诽谤”，见《辛白林》第3幕第4场。

[298]“索……车”，原文为蹩脚的爱尔兰语。

[299]“我是……人”，原是李尔王自指，见《李尔王》第3幕第2场，借用时，把“我是”改成“我相信他是”。

[300]“处……女”，原文为拉丁文。

[301]马登和下文中的克罗瑟斯、科斯特洛、迪克森均为医科学生，见第十四章注[165]、[183]及有关正文。

[302]犹太人气味，原文为拉丁文。下文中，迪克森所说的“阴性男人”一词出自犹太裔奥地利哲学家奥托・魏宁格（1889-1903）所著反犹太的《性和性格》（1903）。在此书中，他认为一切生物都是由不同比例的阳性元素和阴性元素结合而成，而犹太人则是阴性的、非道德性的。

[303]格伦克里感化院，见第十章注[112]。

[304]桑顿太大，参看第四章注［63］及有关正文。

[305]金鼻，原文为意大利语。

[306]金口，参看第一章注[8]。

[307]金手，原文为法语。

[308]银本身，原文为德语。

[309]水银，原文为法语。

[310]全银，原文为希腊语。

[311]据犹太教的启示录，救世主本・约瑟夫把以色列人召集起来，让他们统治耶路撒冷。救世主本・大卫则作为复活的力量光临，并使新世界诞生。

[312]据《路加福音》第23章第3节：彼拉多问耶稣说：“‘你是犹太人的王吗？”耶稣回答说：“你说的是。”

[313]巴茨修士，见第五章注[87]。

[314]圣莱杰赛为英格兰传统赛马，每年九月在约克郡唐克斯镇赛马场举行，限三龄马驹参加。

[315]英国政治家和小说家本杰明・迪斯累里（1804-1881）于一八七六年被封为贝肯斯菲尔德伯爵。

[316]沃特・泰勒（？-1381），英国历史上第一次大规模人民起义的领袖。

[317]摩西・迈蒙尼德，见第二章注[34]。

[318]摩西・门德尔松，见第十二章注[617]。

[319]亨利・欧文（1838-1905），英国演员、舞台监督。

[320]瑞普・凡・温克尔，见第十三章注[146]。

[321]拉乔斯・科苏特（1802-1894），十九世纪中期匈牙利独立运动领袖。

[322]冉-雅克・卢梭（1712-1778），法国哲学家。

[323]利奥波德・罗思柴尔德男爵（1845-1917），英国议会中头一个犹太裔议员。

[324]路易・巴斯德（1822-1895），法国化学家，微生物学家。

[325]“伸……蚀”，见第八章注[173]及有关正文。

[326]布利尼，见第十二章注[321]。

[327]原文为拉丁文，模仿《马太福音）第1章第1节（“耶稣的家谱如下”）的文体。下文中的家谱，模仿同书第1至16节的文体。

[328]据《创世记》第5章第28节，挪亚之父名叫“拉麦”。《出埃及记》第2章第1节说摩西之父是“一个利未族的人”。

[329]挪亚有三子：闪、含、雅弗。尤尼克是“阉人”的译音。

[330]迈那・古根海姆（1828-1905），美国企业家。

[331]阿根达斯・内泰穆，见第四章注[23]。

[332]莫里斯・德・希尔施男爵（1831-1896），犹太人实业家。

[333]耶书仑，见第十四章注[75]。

[334]斯梅尔多兹是波斯工冈比西斯二世（公元前529-前522在位）之弟。公元前五二三年被其兄杀害。

[335]韦斯与施瓦茨是德语“白”与“黑”的音译。

[336]阿德里安堡是土耳其省会埃迪尔内的古称。

[337]阿兰胡埃斯是西班牙新卡斯蒂利亚地区马德里省城镇。

[338]以迦博是希伯来文“没有荣耀”的音译。非利士人击败以色列人后，一个寡妇给遗腹子起了此名（见《撒母耳记上》第4章）。以迦博多诺索的发音又与曾俘虏万名耶路撒冷人的巴比伦王尼布甲尼撒的名字相近（见《列王纪上》第24-25章）。

[339]奥唐奈・马格纳斯，即红发休・奥唐奈，见第十二章注[55]。

[340]克里斯特鲍默是德语“圣诞树”的音译。

[341]本・迈默指摩西・迈蒙尼德，见第二章注[34]。

[342]达斯蒂・罗兹，见第十四章注[384]。

[343]这是把希伯来文“本”（“之子”）和拉丁文的“爱”字拼凑而成的名字，意思是“爱之子”

[344]这是把英国极普通的两个姓拼凑而成的。

[345]俄语中，“奥维奇”的意思是“之子”，萨沃楠奥维奇即是萨沃楠之子的意思。

[346]贾斯珀斯通是英语“碧玉”的音译。碧玉代表雅各的第十二个儿子亚设（见《出埃及记》第28章第17-21节）。“亚设所得的祝福多过其他支族”（见《申命记》第33章第24节）。

[347]万图尼耶姆是法语“第二十一”的音译，也可以指纸牌中的二十一点。松博特海伊是匈牙利城镇，系布卢姆之父的出生地。

[348]“给他起名叫”，原文为拉丁文。“以马内利”为希伯来文“上帝与我们同在”的音泽，原指耶稣。见《以赛亚书》第7章第14节。

[349]在巴比伦王伯沙撒的宴会上，出现了一只人手，在王宫的墙上写下谁也不认得的字。但以理被请去，把字义解释给国王听。见《但以理书》第5章第25至28节。

[350]克雷布，见第九章注[547]及有关正文。

[351]基尔巴拉克是都柏林东北鲍多伊村的一条路，路后有一道供牛钻行的窄洞。

[352]巴利鲍桥是都柏林东北郊托尔卡河上的一座桥。

[353]冬青树，见第二章注[29]。

[354]魔鬼谷是都柏林东南二十二英里处的一道一英里半长的峡谷。

[355]顿尼溪集市，见第五章注[102]。

[356]这是南非的一种大鞭子。

[357]在希腊神话中，以愚蠢知名的弥达斯王曾在比赛中判玛息阿获胜，输了的阿波罗就使他长出两只驴耳朵。

[358]“今晚同你”，见第八章注[263]。

[359]阿尔坦，见第六章注[97]。

[360]都柏林狱门救济会是个新教组织，旨在教育那些犯轻罪而刑满出狱的妇女和姑娘，并为她们在洗衣坊里找到就业机会。

[361]这首诗的第一句（If you see Kay）含有“性交”（F.U.C.K）意，第三句（see you in tea）含有“女性阴部”（C.U.N.T）意。

[362]霍恩布洛尔，见第五章注[99]。

[363]原文为希伯来文，译音作“以弗得”，《圣经・旧约》所载古代以色列大祭司礼服的一部分，着于外袍之上。

[364]阿撒泻勒是犹太教传说中的一个邪灵，象征污秽。犹太人古俗，赎罪日挑选一只公羊给阿撒泻勒（见《旧约・利未记》第16章第8节），背负犹太人所犯的罪，为他们做替罪羊。

[365]夜妖利利斯，见第十四章注[33]。

[366]阿根达斯・内泰穆，见第四章注[23]。

[367]含是挪亚之二子，见第一章注[51]。麦西是《旧约》中对埃及的称呼。《创世记）第10章第6节中，把麦西列为含的儿子之一。

[368]真正的旅客，见第十四章注[311]。

[369]阿谢尔・莱姆兰是一五0二年出现在伊斯特拉（南斯拉夫的三角形半岛）的一个持异端邪说的犹太先知，自封为救世主本・约瑟夫，见本章注[311]。

[370]亚伯拉罕・本・塞缪尔・阿布拉非亚（约1240-1291），西班牙的一个犹太人。自封为救世主。

[371]乔治・R・梅西雅斯，见第六章注[159]。

[372]这里把《马太福音，第6章第12节中的祷文“饶恕我们的罪过”做了改动。

[373]在一九0四年，都柏林市消防队队长确实名叫约翰・J・迈尔斯。

[374]“市民”，见第十二章注[9]。

[375]I．H・S，见第五章注[66]。

[376]火风凰是埃及神话里的长生鸟，相传每五百年自焚后再生。

[377]据《路加福音》第23章第28节，耶稣对为他哀哭的妇女说：“耶路撒冷的女子啊！别为我哭……”这里把“耶路撒冷”改为“爱琳”。

[378]从这一行起，共十二行，均出自当天布卢姆所接触之事物。模仿天主教祷文的格式，上半句是神父念的，后半句是教徒的“回应”。

[379]文森特・奥布赖恩是爱尔兰作曲家与音乐家，曾在都柏林的主教教堂担任唱诗班指挥（1898-1902）。

[380]当天上午在教堂里，布卢姆曾从唱诗班联想到约瑟夫・格林弹奏管风琴的本事，见第五章注[70]及有关正文。

[381]布卢姆这身装束仿效的是扮演爱尔兰丑角时的戴恩・鲍西考尔特，参看第八章注[184]。

[382]康尼马拉是爱尔兰戈尔韦郡一地区。

[383]“生……灭”一语出自哈姆莱特王子的独白。见《哈姆莱特》第3幕第1场。

[384]“从……床”，见第四章注[37]及有关正文。

[385]据海德一九八九年版，下面有“我感到腻烦了，一切都随它去吧。”之句（见第407页倒2至倒1行）。

[386]霍格斯・诺顿是英国中部莱斯特郡的一个村子。由于霍格（hog）和皮格（pig)均指猪，故该村的风琴手曾被称作皮格斯（Piggs）。

[387]约克郡是当时英国最大的郡。一九七四年撤销。

[388]这是一首童谣的首句。第一段是：“小汤米，小不点儿耗子，住着小房子；它在别人的水沟里啊，逮着了小鱼儿。”

[389]霍丽是虔诚的伊斯兰教徒升天堂后被赐与的美女。

[390]“像一个……困惑”，这里套用第七章“缀字校正”（见该章注[30]及有关正文）中的谜语，并把“一只削了皮的梨”改成“她那对削了皮的梨”。用以指裸露的乳房。

[391]“一个……魔”一语出自《奥瑟罗》第3幕第3场中伊阿古挑拨奥瑟罗时所作的谗言。

[392]“大笑……女”一语出自《马查姆的妙举》，参看第四章注[79]及有关正文。“推摇篮的手”，见第十一章注[301]及有关正文。

[393]这里模仿儿童游戏时用语，一边数着花瓣，一边轮流说：“她爱我，她不爱我，她爱我。”数到最后一瓣时说：“真的。”

[394]妓女戳嫖客掌心，是表示勾引。这里，原文为双关语，也指共济会成员打的秘密手势。下文中的“手热内脏冷”是把谚语“手冷心肠热”颠倒过来了。

[395]“栽到楼上去”是一种迷信的说法，意指去一个不受欢迎或会倒楣的地方。

[396]空五度指省略了三和弦中的三音，因而辨别不出是大调还是小调。

[397]本尼迪多・马尔切罗（1686-1739），意大利作曲家和作家。他的《诗意和谐的随想》（1724-1726）是为吉罗拉莫・吉乌斯蒂尼亚尼的诗篇前五十首用声乐和器乐混合谱写的。马尔切罗在序言中说，他是在犹太人聚居的地方发现这音乐的。斯蒂芬指的是，马尔切罗所谱写的音乐有着古代希伯来味道，不论是作者发现的还是创作的，都无关紧要。

[398]得墨忒耳是希腊神话中的谷物女神。

[399]“诸……耀”，原文为拉丁文，出自《诗篇》第19篇第1节。只是把原文中的，“主”，改成了“上帝”。

[400]弗里吉亚是古安纳托利亚中西部一地区。弗里吉亚调式的特征是庄重严肃。吕底亚是古安纳托利亚西部一地区。吕底亚调式的特征是轻快活泼。

[401]刻尔吉是《奥德修纪》第10卷中埃亚依岛上的女神。

[402]刻瑞斯是古罗马宗教所信奉的女神，司掌粮食作物的生长。

[403]《诗篇》第19篇开头处有“大卫的侍，交与伶长”之句。首席巴松管吹奏者即指伶长。

[404]“趁着……返嘛”和前文中的“哎呀……的”，原文均为法语。

[405]砺石，见第九章注[472]。

[406]最大限度的音程指八度。

[407]《圣城》（1892）是英国歌曲作者弗雷德里克・韦瑟利（1848-1929）作词、斯蒂芬・亚当斯配曲的一首赞美歌。

[408]“从自……行”，参看第九章注[503]及有关正文。

[409]“天主，太阳，莎士比亚”是新的三位一体。太阳指耶稣，见《玛拉基书》第4章第2节：“将有拯救的太阳照耀你们。”莎士比亚指圣灵，见第九章注[487]。

[410]“街上……叫”，参看第二章注[78]。

[411]原文（Ecco）为拉丁文。中世纪进行学术辩论时的常用语，意指：“已阐述明确。”

[412]末日，参看第六章注[130]。

[413]伪基督，指亚历山大・道维，见第八章注[8]。

[414]风筝，见第七章“街头行列”一节。

[415]当时皇家运河曾通到都柏林北郊。《启示录》第12章第9节有“大龙就是那古蛇，名叫魔，又叫撒但”之句。

[416]这句话可以意译为“只一回，经常如此，不大可能”。

[417]阿里・斯洛珀是十九世纪末伦敦每逢星期六发行的同名彩色幽默周刊上的一个漫画人物，其特征是有着一个球茎状的大鼻子。

[418]“出……人！”原文为法语。“笑面人”是维克托・雨果（1802-1885）的同名小说（1869）中的主人公。

[419]，“先……注！”原文为法语。这是轮盘赌的司盘人在转轮时说的话。

[420]、[421]“来……赢”和“到……上”，原文为法语。

[420]、[421]“来……赢”和“到……上”，原文为法语。

[422]和散那是希伯来文“赞美”的音译。

[423]“以……临”，见第八章注[7]。

[424]双头章鱼，见第八章注[155]。

[425]按马南南（见第三章注[31]）有本事生出三条腿。

[426]这是一首苏格兰歌曲中的一句。

[427]古老光荣之旗是美国国旗的俗称。

[428]《克雷奥利．休）（1898）是由古希.L.戴维斯作词配乐的一百美国流行歌曲的题目。

[429]上帝的时间是美国俚语，指一八八三年在美国和加拿大制定的标准地方时间。

[430]这里套用查尔斯・菲尔莫尔所作美国流行歌曲《告诉母亲我会在那儿》（1890），把“我”改为“你们”。

[431]科尼艾兰是美国纽约市一娱乐区，濒临大西洋。

[432]这里套用迪斯累里（见本章注[315]）于一八六四年驳斥达尔文的进化论时所说的话。全句为：“问题是：人究竟是猴子还是天使？我站在天使这边。”

[433]棱镜出自一八四九年迪斯累里在英国下议院的致辞。他认为“人必须透过周围气氛的彩色棱镜来观察世界上的一般事物”。

[434]乔答摩是佛教创始人释迦牟尼的姓。

[435]罗伯特・格林・英格索尔（1833-1899），美国政治家、演说家。曾对《圣经》严厉批判。

[436]这时以利亚已摇身一变，成为黑人歌手尤金・斯特拉顿，见第六章注[23]。

[437]在一九0四年，宪法山是都柏林的一个满是公寓的区域，名声不佳。

[438]凡受过洗礼的夭主教徒，满七周岁即可受坚振礼。

[439][]内的话，系根据海德一九八九年版（第415页第9至10行）补译。褐色肩衣组织，见第四章注[19]。

[440]蒙莫朗西是都柏林郡一支英裔爱尔兰望族。在一九0四年，其族长为第四代弗兰克福特・德・蒙莫朗西子爵。

[441]亨尼西的三星是一种高级的法国白兰地酒。

[442]维兰，见第八章注[93]及有关正文。

[443]“太初有道”，见《约翰福音》第1章第1节。

[444]“以……世”，见第二章注[41]、[44]及有关正文。

[445]八福，参看第十四章注[330]。

[446]参看第十四章注[330]，其中buybull（买牛）的发音与《圣经》（Bible）相近，联系到“买约翰牛”（“约翰牛”为英国人的绰号，意指“只买英国货”）的口号。菲尼亚斯・泰勒・巴纳姆（1810-1891）为美国游艺节目演出的经理人。

[447]利斯特，见第九章注[1]。

[448]指“内心之光”，参看第九章注[182]。

[449]踩着“科兰多”舞步，见第九章注[8]。

[450]贝斯特，见第九章注[46]。

[451]约翰・埃格林顿，见第九章注[10]。

[452]“美丽的事物”一词见于英国诗人约翰・济慈（1795-1821）的长诗《恩底弥翁，（1818）的首句。

[453]但德拉吉是爱尔兰阿马郡一镇，在都柏林以北。

[454]这里把拉塞尔比作马南南・麦克李尔，见第三章注[31]。这段描写与前文相呼应。参看第九章注[15]及有关正文。

[455]德鲁伊特，见第一章注[47]。

[456]自行车，参看第八章注[156]及有关正文。

[457]拉塞尔在《幻影之烛》（伦敦，1918）一书的“天主的语言”和“古代直感”二章中，对以上各种音的意义分别做了解释。

[458]赫尔墨斯・特里斯美吉斯托斯是希腊人对埃及神透特的称呼，见第九章注

[459]普纳尔甲纳穆是通神学术语，意思是轮回转生。潘即超灵，贾乌布的意思是战胜。

[460]萨克蒂是性力教（与毗湿奴教和湿婆教同为印度三大教派）所崇奉的最高女神，系男神湿婆之配偶。女神在左边，男神在右边。

[461]这里在套用耶稣所说的“我是世界的光”（见《约翰福音》第8章第12节），只是把“世界”改为“家园”。当时拉塞尔是《爱尔兰家园报》的主编，见第九章注[141]。

[462]“我是……黄油”，参看第九章注[34]及有关正文。

[463]法雷尔，叁看第八章注[78]。

[464]这里指将上埃及（圆锥形白帽上冠以雕球饰）的王冠和下埃及的红冠合并而成的双冠。

[465]维拉格・利波蒂，见第十章注[619]。松博特海伊，见本章注[347]。

[466]爷爷，原文为依地语。

[467]侧柏是制造诺亚方舟时用的树木，音译为歌斐木，见《创世记》第6章第14节。

[468]音译为希波格里夫，希腊神话中半鹰半马的有翅怪兽。

[469]据斯图尔特・吉尔伯特的《詹姆斯・乔伊斯的

[470]这是由《峡谷里的百合》（1886.L.沃尔夫和阿纳托尔・弗里德兰作）和《我们巷子里的萨莉》（亨利・凯里作）二歌的题目拼凑而成。

[471]矢车菊，隐喻阴核。阴核是意大利解剖学家鲁亚尔杜斯・科隆博（1516-1559）最早发现的。“压翻”，见第九章注[138]。

[472]《嗨哟，她撞着了》是哈里・卡斯林和A.J.米尔斯所作通俗歌曲的题目。

[473]“哪……乐”一语出自英国诗人、戏剧家约翰・盖依（1685-1732）的《乞丐的歌剧》（1728）第2幕。

[474]利姆是利奥波德・布卢姆的简称。

[475]这里指填肥鹅。参看第八章注[240]。

[476]胡芦巴是一种豆科植物。

[477]埃及肉锅，见第三章注[81]。

[478]石松粉除了药用外，又是冶金工业上的脱模剂，也用于照明工业中。

[479]这里把谢里登所作通俗歌曲《恰好，我们又来到这儿》的题目做了改动。

[480]民间迷信，用金戒指碰一下患部，就能医治目疾。

[481]原文为拉丁文，系把“利用对方的论据的辩论”一语做了改动。

[482]“狄普罗多库斯”和“伊赤泰欧扫罗斯”分别为古生物恐龙――梁龙和鱼龙的译音。

[483]胡格诺派（见第五章注[89]）一词，从字面上也可以读作“巨大的瘤子”。

[484]希拉巴克斯是布卢姆将维拉格刚才用过的“多音节的词”拆开来，取其后半截杜撰而成的词。

[485]“事业……啦”，原文为意大利语，参看第八章注[190]及有关正文。

[486]保加利亚和巴斯克（住在西班牙与法国交界处一民族）的妇女，均在裙子里面着紧身长裤。

[487]这是根本不可能的，所以“绘制与圆形面积相等的正方形”便成了“做异想天开的事”的代用语。

[488]古代犹太宗教中，石榴是唯一能够被带进圣殿的水果。根据礼仪，把小石榴缝在大祭祀的袍子上。

[489]这句话原是用来指一八一二年在俄国转胜为败的拿破仑一世的。

[490]鹦鹉，参看第十三章注[100]及有关正文。

[491]犹太历五五五0年即公元一七八九年。喀尔巴阡山脉在欧洲中部，是阿尔卑斯山系向东延伸部分。下文中的熊先生，是童话《列那狐的故事》中的拟人动物。

[492]“火鸡”，原文为苏格兰俚语。“芝麻，开门！”是阿里巴巴为了打开藏宝的洞门而念的咒语，参看第十二章注[198]。

[493]阿拉伯文的行文习惯是自右往左，与一般西文刚好相反，故说“倒着”。

[494]“红沙洲的牡蛎”，见第六章注[29]。

[495]佩里戈尔位于法国西南部，是法国历史和文化胜地。居民利用猪、狗到楝树林下寻找块菌（一种美味的食用真菌）。

[496]“眼……镜”一语见吉尔伯特与沙利文合写的轻歌剧《佩深丝》（1881）。原词作“把单片眼镜塞进他的眼睛”。

[497]“开着的芝麻”，见本章注[492]。

[498]这里把通常用来指女人的“美丽的女性”一词做了改动。

[499]这里，布卢姆把色情书籍的作者艾里芳蒂斯的名字记错了（艾里芳图利亚里斯为“象皮病”的译音）。据说艾里芳蒂斯是个女作家，其诗受到古罗马皇帝提比略（公元前42一公元37）的赏识。

[500]“本……界”，参看第十一章注[301]。

[501]在后文中，布卢姆也提到了杰拉尔德，见本章注[591]。

[502]雅各烟斗，见第十四章注[231]。

[503]坎迪亚是希腊克里特岛北部一海港。马里奥，见第七章注[9]。

[504]“有一朵盛开的花”是同名歌曲中的首句，见第十三章注［45］。

[505]“回到我的”后面省略了“父亲那里去”，见《路加福音》第15章第15节。浪子花尽钱财后，“恨不得拿喂猪的豆荚充饥”，于是决定“起身，回到父亲那里去”。下文中的斯蒂夫为斯蒂芬的昵称。

[506]“好……一切”，原文为意大利语。

[507]《古老甜蜜的情歌》，见第四章注[50]。

[508]古琵琶，也称作诗琴，是十六、十六世纪盛行于欧洲的一种拨弦乐器。乔伊斯本人确曾写过一封关于古琵琶的信。参看第十六章注[287]。

[509]据说马其顿有个叫菲利普的法官，酒后判错了一个案子，酒醒后予以纠正。因此，“从酒醉菲利普到清醒菲利普”就成了“对仓促间做出的判断再重新考虑”的代用语。

[510]马修・阿诺德，见第一章注[33]。

[511]“倘若……经验”和后文中的“我没欠过债”（醉汉菲利普语）均见于当天早晨迪希对斯蒂芬所说的话。参看第二章注[47]至注[49]及有关正文。

[512]穆尼，见第七章注[227]、第十一章注[47]。莫伊拉和拉切特分别是斯蒂芬当天曾去过的酒吧和餐馆。

[513]伯克，见第十四章注[294]。

[514]原文为希腊文，是拜伦的抒情诗《与雅典女郎分袂前》（1810）中的引语及叠句。

[515]阿特金森，参看第九章注[538]。

[516]斯温伯恩，参看第一章注[12]。

[517]“心……的”，出自耶稣对彼得说的话，见《马太福音》第26章第41节。下文中的梅努斯，见第九章注[484]。

[518]“太……事”，出自《旧约・传道书》第1章第9节。

[519]“我为什么脱离了罗马教会”，借用查尔斯・帕斯卡尔・特勒斯弗尔・奇尼奇所著同名的书题，见第八章注[268]。《神父、女人与忏悔阁子》（1874）亦出自同一作者之手。书中指斥让妇女向男人袒露内心隐秘，乃是道德败坏之举，因而十年内连印了二十四版。

[520]彭罗斯，见第八章注[62]。

[521]在《李尔王》第3幕第4场中，乔装成疯子“可怜的汤姆”的爱德伽故意把父亲葛罗斯特误认作恶魔“弗力勃铁・捷贝特”。

[522]“我……的”，原文为拉丁文。见第十章注[201]。

[523]啐，原文为德语。

[524]臀部，原文为梵语。

[525]“飞个主教”原是国际象棋中的术语。“主教”即“象”，形状为教士帽。作为隐语，此词又指性交时女子的体位在上。

[526]《暴风雨》第3幕第2场中，斯丹法诺不只一次地称凯列班（见第一章注[22]）作“妖精”，此词按字面翻译为“月牛”，也指先天性白痴，此处从朱生豪的译法。

[527]“可恶……们！”，原文为依地语。

[528]“他有……父亲”一语出自法国作家古斯塔夫・福楼拜（1821一1880）的《圣安东的诱惑》（1872）。这是一群异教祖师就耶稣的出身问题对安东所喊的话。

[529]《凯尔斯书》（约于9世纪在爱尔兰米斯郡的凯尔斯镇印制的拉丁文福音书）中有一张图给圣母玛利亚画了两只右脚，小耶稣则有两只左脚，遂成为俚语。“有两只左脚”意指不适当。

[530]伊阿其阿，即酒神。公元二世纪罗马帝国东部曾出现该隐派。他们崇拜加略人犹大，且著有《犹大福音》等经籍。《圣安东的诱惑》中曾提及该隐派的《犹大福音》。

[531]该都柏林近卫步兵连队的士兵戴蓝帽。

[532]、[533]“谁使命……普？”和“是由于……普”，原文为法语，参看第三章注[67]。

[532]、[533]“谁使命……普？”和“是由于……普”，原文为法语，参看第三章注[67]。

[534]伊利・梅奇尼科夫（1845一1916），俄国动物学家、微生物学家。曾通过实验证明人类与动物在生理上有接近的地方。一九0三年用接种的办法成功地使类人猿感染上梅毒。

[535]“聪明的处女”，参看第七章注[238]。

[536]罗马百人队长，见第十四章注[158]。

[537]“弄……膜”，参看第十一章注[115]。

[538]“我的心肝儿”，原文为爱尔兰语。前文中的“约德尔唱法”，见第十一章注[90]。“低沉的桶音”和“大本钟”，参看第八章注[38]、[39]。“当狂……际”，参看第十一章注[117]。

[539]“当我初见……”，见第十一章注[151]。

[540]“狗屁！”原文为依地语。

[541]“背后……琴”一语出自《少年吟游诗人》，见第十一章注[49]。

[542]吉・11，参看第八章注[32]。“严加……大夫”，见第八章注[33]。

[543]“现……啦”，见第十一章注[7]。

[544]“好斗的牧师”，指马丁・路德（1483-1546）。

[545]“犬儒……西尼”，参看第七章注[256]。

[546]阿里乌，见第一章注[114]。“在厕……痛苦”，见第三章注[26]。

[547]“犯了大罪”是双关语，也含有“红衣主教之罪”意。大罪共有七样：骄傲、悭吝、迷色、愤怒、嫉妒、贪饕、懒惰。

[548]“不守清规的修士们”是十八世纪的一个爱尔兰律师、政客和知识分子的组织（又名“圣帕特里克修会”）。他们穿上修士袍子，仅仅是为了吃喝玩乐时更富于情趣。约翰・菲尔波特・柯伦是该“修会”会长，曾写过一首与该组织同名的诗。见第七章注[183]。

[549]据乔伊斯本人的一份笔记（今收藏在美国康奈尔大学）所载，这是他经常听他父亲引用的一首诗。

[550]这首诗是把爱尔兰民谣《内莉・弗莱厄蒂的鸭子》第2段略加修改而成。

[551]这是《南方刮来的风》中的词句，巴特尔・达西（见第八章注[63]及有关正文）曾教过布卢姆之妻摩莉演唱此歌。

[552]指麦拉斯义卖会，见第八章注[280]

[553]总督，见第十章注[207]及有关正文。

[554]斯文加利是英国漫画家乔治・杜莫里埃所著小说《软毡帽》（1894）中的流氓头子，一个讨厌而富于音乐天才的奥裔犹太人。

[555]共济会（见第五章注[8]）分会将成员划为三个等级：学徒、师兄弟及师傅。

[556]丹麦医生尼尔斯・赖伯格、芬森（1860一1904）于一八九三年发现了天花患者长时间暴露于排除光谱紫色端的红光之下，可防止脓疱或痘痕的形成。他还发明了寻常狼疮的紫外线疗法。

[557]“吃喝玩乐吧”一语出自《路加福音》第12章第19节。下文中的教士，指斯蒂芬。

[558]安德鲁斯公司是都柏林一家出售酒类和食品杂货的店铺。这里，布卢姆在暗示块菌能够起到春药的作用。参看本章注[495]。

[559]明妮・豪克（1852一1929），美国女高音歌剧演员。十九世纪七、八十年代多次去欧洲（包括都柏林）巡回演出，尤以扮演吉卜赛女郎卡门著称。

[560]原文是双关语，也含有“调情”意。

[561]原文为“nes・yo”，钱钟书在《管锥编》（中华书局1979年版）第一册第394页《史记。太史公自序》一文中，曾用此词来解释“唯唯否否”一语：“英语常以‘亦唯亦否’（yes and no）为‘综合答问’（syntheticanswer）。当世名小说（Joyce，Ulysses）中至约成一字（nes・yo）则真‘正反并用’……”。

[562]在《穿皮衣的维纳斯》中，女主人公旺达反复提到受虐狂者塞弗林眼中那种“睡意，或“睡眼惺忪的神色”。塞弗林则说旺达是个“好厉害的人儿”，见本章注[148].下文中，布卢姆和贝洛分别扮演塞弗林与旺达的角色。

[563]指邮局关门后，贴上额外邮资的信函可以通过铁路专递。

[564]据《列王纪》（上）第1章，大卫王老迈后，大臣从舒念地方找到一个叫作雅比莎的少女，让她睡在他旁边，以暖其身。

[565]这里，布卢姆想替父亲的自杀开脱，认为父亲是因狗唾沫带来的狂犬病而死。

[566]“在都……的”和“是……王爷”这两句话曾出现在第十一章，参看该章注[72]及有关正文。

[567]指大卫・凯利特所开的都柏林一家出售绸布、女帽头饰的商店。

[568]《心爱的青春之梦》是托马斯・穆尔的一首诗的题目。曼菲尔德父子公司是都柏林一家时新的鞋店。

[569]克莱德街是中上阶层的英裔爱尔兰人聚居的地带。

[570]汉迪・安迪是塞缪尔・洛弗（见第四章注[47]）的同名长篇小说中的主人公。他经常出差错，所以这里就把布卢姆与他相比。

[571]小王是希腊神话中的一种怪物，见第九章注[198]。

[572]从这里起，贝洛变成男的，并改称贝拉，布卢姆变成了女的。下文中的“他”指贝拉，“她”指布鲁姆。

[573]努比亚是东北非古代地区名。十四世纪至二十世纪初，这里曾经是阿拉伯贩卖奴隶的中心。

[574]马特森父子公司是都柏林一家经售各种食品的商店。

[575]《特许饮食业报》是伦敦发行的一种行业周报，对象为持有卖酒执照的饭店和酒吧。

[576]里奇蒙精神病院，见第一章注[19]。

[577]据一九0四年六月十六日的《电讯晚报》．吉尼斯啤酒公司的特惠股份当天保持在1611/16英镑。

[578]克雷格和加德纳实有其人，是两名会计师，在都柏林开了一家克雷格、加德纳公司。

[579]”丢掉”，见第十四章注[258]及有关正文。

[580]这种污辱人的手势是将大拇指放在食指和中指之间，见《神曲・地狱篇》第25篇开头部分。

[581]“骑……口“一语，出自一首童谣，通常是孩子骑在大人腿上或和大人一道骑木马时所唱。班伯里见第八章注[28]。

[582]《穿皮衣的维纳斯》，见本章注[562]。其中有旺达叫她的三个女黑奴给塞弗林套上了轭的情节。

[583]“看……样”一语，系模仿第六章注[184]中那段墓志铭的辞句：“你们也即将像我们现在这样。”

[584]玛莎和玛丽亚，见第五章注[41]。

[585]米莉亚姆・丹德拉德太太，见第八章注[91]及有关正文。

[586]这里，“她”指布卢姆之妻摩莉。

[587]拉西・达列莫是摩莉和多伊尔合唱的意大利歌曲《手拉着手》的译音，见第四章注[49]。

[588]戈登・贝纳特奖杯，见第六章注[63]。

[589]马诺汉密尔顿是爱尔兰西岸利特里姆郡一村。

[590]《颠倒》（1882）是英国作家托马斯・安斯蒂・格思里（笔名弗朗西丝・安斯蒂，1856一1934）所著小说，由爱德华・罗斯改编成剧本，于一八八三年公演。

[591]杰拉尔德，见本章注[501]。

[592]《多兰的驴》是一首爱尔兰歌谣，主人公帕迪喝醉了酒，把这头驴误当作自己的心上人。

[593]圣玛利亚教堂是用都柏林黑石建成的，故俗称黑教堂。它位于布卢姆所住的埃克尔街南边。

[594]邓恩小姐是博伊兰的秘书，见第十章注［81］。

[595]都柏林东北郊有一座硫酸工厂。

[596]这里把布卢姆的爱称波尔迪冠在法国作家保罗・德・科克的姓前面了。参看第四章注[58]。

[597]这是特威迪的叫卖声，后面省略了“四根”二字。见第六章注[38]及有关正文。

[598]指从卡西迪酒店里走出来的老妪，见第四章注[35]及有关正文。

[599]“盲青年”，指双目失明的年轻调音师，参看第十章注[203]、第十一章注[51]及有关正文。

[600]这里把会做生意的酒店老板拉里・奥罗克的姓做了改动，参看第四章注[9]及有关正文。“莱诺”是英国俚语“钱”的译音。

[601]根据贝洛・科恩的姓名，布卢姆猜测她可能也是犹太人，所以这么说。下文中的普莱曾茨街，见第四章注[29]。

[602]鲁碧，见第四章注[55]及有关正文。

[603]这是爱尔兰高等法院记录处的一个部门，主管大法官的秘书工作。

[604]狄龙是一家拍卖行，见第十章注[123]及有关正文。

[605]“多……士”，原是当天上午乘马车送葬途中西蒙・迪达勒斯用来挖苦吕便・杰的话，见第六章注[51]及有关正文。

[606]科恩是犹太人常见的姓。科恩牌，意指犹太牌。

[607]哈伦・拉施德，见第三章注[159]。

[608]在路易十五（1715一1774在位）统治法国的后期，妇女的裙裾缩短到露出脚脖子，井时兴穿高跟鞋。但四英寸还是夸张了。前文中的“玩厌了的”，原文为法语

[609]据《创世记》第19章，所多玛和蛾摩拉二城，因居民犯鸡奸等罪被毁，见第四章注[34]。

[610]曼克斯猫是一种无尾家猫，产于英国曼岛，见第六章注[50]。

[611]摩尔是布卢姆之妻摩莉这个名字的男性化。

[612]这里把《瑞普・凡・温克尔》和《睡谷的传说》的情节糅在一起了，参看第十三章注[146]、[147]，瑞普・凡・温克尔以怕老婆出名。他到山谷城打猎，一睡二十年，回来后老婆早已死去，他本人也被遗忘多时。

[613]“足……鞋”，参看第四章注[39]及有关正文。

[614]“王八窝”，参看第九章注[491]。

[615]“公鹅”指“男妓”，“母鹅”指“妓女”，参看第十一章注[208]。

[616]“雷恩”，参看第六章注[80]。

[617]指希腊神话里的美少年纳希素斯的雕像，他因爱上自己映在水中之倩影而溺死并变为水仙。

[618]汉普顿・利德姆是都柏林一家公司，出售瓷器、金属制品等。

[619]在《哈姆莱特》第1幕第5场末尾，父王的鬼魂四次说：“宣誓！”

[620]“太迟啦。”见第十一章注[144]及有关正文。

[621]“次好的床”，见第九章注[346]。

[622]“墓志铭”，参看第十一章注[330]。

[623]“我犯了罪！”“我受了苦！”见第五章注[67]。

[624]饮泣墙是耶路撒冷犹太会堂的残壁，为犹太人凭吊故国之处。

[625]这里，作者把虚构的人物和真人真事杂糅在一起。一九0四年，西伦巴德街三十八号确有个名叫J・布卢姆的人。M・舒勒莫维茨（死于1940）在该街五十六号的犹太图书馆当秘书。约瑟夫・戈德华特住在六十六号。摩西・赫佐格，见第十二章注[2]及有关正文。哈里斯・罗森堡住在该街六十三号。M・莫依塞尔，见第四章注[28]及有关正文。J．西特伦见第四章注[26]及有关正文。明尼・沃赤曼住在圣凯文步道二十号（位于西伦巴德街拐角处）。利奥波德・阿布拉莫维茨实有其人（死于1907）。是个犹太教的拉比（教士）。

[626]死海之果，指死海附近所多玛所产的苹果，其味道涩苦。按照犹太教习惯葬礼和坟墓上禁止使用鲜花。

[627]“以……上主”，原文为希伯来文，见《申命记》第6章第4节，参看第七章注[39]及有关正文。

[628]这幅《宁芙沐浴图》原是《摄影点滴》周刊的附录，见第四章注[60]、[61]及有关正文。

[629]希米舞是本世纪初风行于美国黑人中的爵士舞的一种，主要动作是抖动双肩或全身颤动。

[630]“脆……婚姻。”参看第十二章注[366]。

[631]噗啦呋咔为利菲河上游景色幽美的瀑布，位于都柏林西南二十英里，是根据凯尔特神话中的调皮小精灵呋咔而命名的。

[632]据海德一九八九年版（见第447页第1至5行），下面有布卢姆的台词和舞台动作：(布卢姆（惊愕）：“噗啦的高中吗，记忆法？记忆力失灵。脑震荡。被电车辗过。”回声：“骗子！”)

[633]“古老的皇家剧场”，见第十一章注[135]。

[634]布卢姆是个虚构的人物，这里罗列的五个他在坐落于哈考特街的伊拉兹马斯・史密斯高中就读时的同学，则实有其人。除了阿普约翰，全住在学校附近。一九0四年，特恩布尔住在哈考特街五十三号。同年，查特顿（生于1862）在该校当注册员和会计。戈德堡和阿普约翰，见第八章注[111]。梅雷迪思住在哈丁顿路九十七号。

[635]这是同学们给布卢姆取的外号，见第八章注[112]。

[636]蒙塔古街位于伊拉兹马斯・吏密斯高中所在的哈考特街以北，仅隔一个街区。

[637]法乌娜是古罗马宗教所信奉的女神，保佑森林、农田和畜牧业丰产。

[638]“春……儿”一语出自古尔伯特与沙利文合编的轻歌剧《天皇》（1885）第2幕。

[639]里亚托桥在大运河上，位于都柏林西郊。

[640]“打着……牛崽子”，见第八章注[206]，第十四章注[280]及有关正文。

[641]“在高……着”，当天中午在酒吧里，布卢姆曾想起他和摩莉在山顶儿上谈情说爱时看到了一只母山羊。见第八章注[248]及有关正文。

[642]《境遇迁，情况变》是威廉・琼斯・霍平（1813一1889）根据大仲马的《应邀赴华尔兹舞会》改编的独幕喜剧。

[643]每秒三十二英尺，指落体的规律，见第五章注[6]及有关正文。

[644]这里指布卢姆从码头上丢给海鸥的印有以利亚字样的传单，见第八章注[25]及有关正文；第十二章末尾把布卢姆比作以利亚。

[645]前文中曾提到布卢姆在汤姆公司做过职员，见第十二章注[619]及有关正文。

[646]爱琳王号是船名，参看第四章注[64]及有关正文。

[647]参议员南尼蒂当时为排字房工长，见第七章注[25]及有关正文。

[648]“你今天所瞧见的那样”，暗指当天布卢姆到博物馆去看那里的女神雕像有无肛门和阴毛事。

[649]汉密尔顿・朗是都柏林一家药房，坐落在胡格诺派的教会墓地附近，见第五章注[89]及有关正文。

[650]“我犯了罪！”原文为拉丁文。参看第五章注[67]。

[651]“支配……的手”，见第十一章注[301]。

[652]坐牛（约1831一1890）是美国达科他州特顿印第安人首领。他的印第安名为塔坦卡・约塔克，曾领导苏人部落为捍卫在大平原上的生存权而斗争。

[653]特兰奎拉女修道院和迦密山，分别见第八章注[44]、[45]。阿加塔修女（活动时期约公元3世纪）为传说中一个基督教圣女，因不肯委身于罗马皇帝戴修斯派任的西西里行政长官，受火刑而死。

[654]诺克和卢尔德的显圣，分别见第五章注[62]、[61]。

[655]“梦……翔”，这是布卢姆当天上午想起的两句诗，见第八章注[168]及有关正文。但引用时把“朦胧”改成了“浓郁”。

[656]库姆和下面的四句诗，均见第五章注[39]及有关正文。引用时把原诗第一行中的“玛丽亚”改为“利奥波德”，第二行中的“她”改为“他”。

[657]指成语“压垮骆驼背的是最后一根稻草”。意思是：“凡事稍微做过了头，就会前功尽弃。”

[658]据海德一九八九年版（见451页第17行），宁芙的台词前有这样一句舞台动作：[（表情越来越冷酷，在衣褶间摸索着。）]

[659]指一一一八年帕扬等九名法兰西骑士组成的基督教军事团体圣殿骑士团。该团以保卫朝圣者为宗旨，是共济会的前身。

[660]这是一句咒语，见第十章注[162]。

[661]指铁英藜是由尼姑发明的传说，见第八章注[47]及有关正文。

[662]英文中称宝瓶座（摩羯座和双鱼座之间的一个黄道星座）为“送水人”，其形象宛如一人从水罐里倒出一条水流。

[663]阿方萨斯指西班牙神父、历史学家圣母玛利亚・阿方萨斯（1396一1456）。“好母亲”是对他的戏称。布卢姆在当天中午也曾想到过此人。参看第八章注[161]及有关正文。列那是德语组诗《列那狐》（产生于10至11世纪之间，以后成为英、法等国的寓言的主人公）中的一只不讲道德、狡猾、怯懦、追求私利的狐狸。

[664]据《神曲・净界》第19篇开头部分，但丁梦见一个妇人，由丑变美，唱起了迷惑了尤利西斯的茜冷娜之歌。随后维其略撕开了这妇人的衣服，把她的肚子露出来给他看，只觉有一股冲鼻的臭味。

[665]里维埃拉是地中海滨海地区，开辟了不少休养地。布卢姆曾读过的那本书里谈到阔太太与雇来的舞男之间的风流韵事。

[666]布卢姆发觉他老婆的香水有股“酸臭的气味”，见第四章注[50]及有关正文。

[667]这时贝拉和布卢姆已分别恢复原来的性别。

[668]“容颜衰退”，原文为法语。

[669]《扫罗》中的送葬曲，见第六章注[65]。

[670]“当……吧”是少管闲事的双关语。也可译为“当心你的矢车菊吧”。矢车菊（cornflower）是个复合词，前一半与鸡眼（corn）拼法相同。

[671]仿流行于爱尔兰戈尔韦郡劳伦斯镇的一首童谣。

[672]这里在套用哈姆莱特的著名独白（《见《哈姆莱特》第3幕第11场）中的“生存还是毁灭”。

[673]这里，斯蒂芬是把“猪耳朵做不出丝钱包来”这一成语倒过来说的。

[674]金赤，见第一章注[3]。同赌共济是把同舟共济做了改动。

[675]原文为法语，是把法国诗人弗朗索瓦・维庸（1431一1463？）的《胖马尔戈之歌》中的叠句略加改动。

[676]意思是要斯蒂芬替他付帐。

[677]“瞧瞧钱”后面，海德版（见454页第4行）有“随即又打量一下斯蒂芬”之句。

[678]原文为意大利语。斯蒂芬已经给了面值一镑的纸币（20先令），接着又递给贝洛一枚半英镑金市，共折合三十先令，所以贝洛问他是否要三个姑娘。斯蒂芬却误以为贝洛说他给少了，故又补了二克朗银币（合10先令）。

[679]指斯蒂芬当天上午在课堂上叫学生猜的谜语，见第二章注[28]。

[680]这里把第二章注[28]的谜语做了改动。

[681]这里，布卢姆用半英镑金币换了一英镑纸币，替斯蒂芬收回了他多付的十先令。

[682]心神恍惚的男子指哈姆莱特王子，见第九章注[64]及有关正文。

[683]心神恍惚的乞丐，见第九章注[67]。

[684]晓星是一八二七年发明的一种火柴的商标，后来成为火柴的泛称。

[685]在英国戏剧家谢里丹的喜剧《造谣学校》（1777）中，挥霍成性的查理・瑟菲斯曾以否定语气使用“先公正再慷慨”这个成语，他自己是“只要有就花”。

[686]“动……刻”一语，出自莱辛的《拉奥孔》第16章。参看本书第三章注[5]。

[687]“埋……奶”是斯蒂芬在课堂上所出谜语的谜底，见第二章注[29]及有关正文。

[688]这里，斯蒂芬从狐狸埋葬奶奶这个谜底联想到当天早晨穆利根对他说的“姑妈认为你母亲死在你手里”一语，参看第一章注[16]及有关正文。

[689]乔治娜・约翰逊，见第九章注[100]及本章注[13]。

[690]斯蒂芬打碎眼镜的往事，参看第九章注[104]。

[691]这里，斯蒂芬又提起他在海滩上转的念头。见第三章注[174]和有关正文。

[692]“无……态”一语，见第三章注[1]及有关正文。

[693]“双背禽兽”，见第七章注[187]。

[694]这里把“天主的羔羊，除掉世人罪孽的”（见《约翰福音》第1章第29节）一语做了改动。按兰姆（Lambe）与羔羊（Lamb）发音相同。

[695]“赐……安”，原文是拉丁文，为弥撒中领圣体时所吟诵的经文《天主羔羊》结束语。

[696]“血誓”是理查德・瓦格纳（1813一1883）的四联歌剧《尼伯龙根的指环》（1853一1874）中的最后一部《众神的黄昏》里的曲调。

[697]“难……活”，原文为德语。中间那句“刨根……婆”出自《尼伯龙根的指环》中的第2部《女武神》第1幕。

[698]这里把父王的鬼魂对哈姆莱特所说的第一句话“我是你父亲的灵魂”（见《哈姆莱特》第1幕第5场）作了改动。手锥（gimlet）与哈姆莱特（Hamlet）发音相近。

[699]马尔斯（战神）丘是手相术语。手心上的七个隆起部位，分别叫作阿波罗丘、宙斯丘等。

[700]关于斯蒂芬因打碎眼镜而挨多兰的打，并由康米解救的往事，见第九章注[104]。《神曲・地狱篇》第10章开头部分描写了但丁与从启了盖的石棺中露出头来的两个熟人交谈的情景。

[701]据《马太福音》第17章第27节，波得按照耶稣的吩咐，到湖边钓鱼，从钓上的第一条鱼的口中找子一个钱币．用来缴纳了耶稣和彼得的圣殿税，据民间传说，黑线鳕胸鳍上的黑斑就是彼得留下的大拇指印。

[702]乔伊斯生于一八八二年二月二日，刚好是星期四。

[703]“星……大”一语出自一首摇篮曲。

[704]“母鸡黑丽泽”，见第十二章注[259]及有关正文。

[705]“朝……进”是迪希校长当天早晨所说的话，见第二章注[77]及有关正文。据海德一九八九年版（见第459页倒6行至倒5行）．下面的“我二十二岁”之后，有[十六年前，他也是二十二岁]之句。

[706]此段参看第十一章注[209]及有关正文。下文中的“长犄角”，见第十一章注[87]。

[707]薅火鸡毛是俚语，指男女交媾。这里，博伊兰在向利内翰谈他与摩莉私通时的淫荡情景。

[708]博伊兰的名字布莱泽斯（B1azes）含有燃烧或炽热意。

[709]拉乌尔，见第十章注[122]及有关正文。

[710]邪魔附体，见第十二章注[318]及有关正文。

[711]据海德一九八九年版（见第461页倒5行至倒3行，下面有博伊兰的一句台词：[（抱肘）：喏，这点玩艺儿我兜不了多会儿啦。（他迈着硬挺挺的骑兵步伐，走起来。）]

[712]“紧……儿”一语，见第八章注[247]及有关正文。

[713]“真好吃”一语，见布卢姆与摩莉在霍斯的羊齿丛里作爱的描绘。参看第八章注[248]及有关正文。

[714]“反映自然”一语，出自哈姆莱特王子的台词。见《哈姆莱特》第3幕第2场。

[715]“高声……反映”一语出自英国作家奥利弗・哥尔德斯密斯（1730一1774）的田园诗《荒村》（1770）。

[716]阉鸡，见第九章注[315]。

[717]这里是把伊阿古的名字套在鸡叫声里。在《奥瑟罗》中，摩尔族贵胄奥瑟罗因受旗官伊阿古之挑拨，勒死了无辜的妻子狄丝蒂蒙娜，其名与星期四（瑟丝蒂）蒙娜发音相近。

[718]拿破仑死在英国殖民地圣赫勒拿岛后，三个法国医生坚持说是该岛的恶劣气候及英国当局的骚扰促使他“过早地死亡”的，五个英国医生贝仔细量了遗体各部位的尺寸，故意在其“女性形体”（尤其是过份发达的胸部）上大做文章。

[719]滕尼，见第十章注[204]。

[720]“母天……鹅”，参看第九章注[84]及有关正文。

[721]靴子，见第十二章注[153]及有关正文。“苏……公司”，见第十三章注[177]。

[722]“牛肉茶”，见易卜生的《爱情的喜剧》（1862）第2幕。其中由茶写到由于十九世纪的道德观念以及对妇女生命力的压抑，以致把爱情与婚姻对立起来。

[723]“先……个”一语，见第九章注[343]。

[724]指匈牙利作曲家弗朗兹・莱哈尔（1870一1948）所作轻歌剧《风流寡妇》（1905）中的女主人公所戴的那种宽边帽。

[725]“他……宝”一语，见第六章注[62]。

[726]“惟……抬”一语，见《诗篇》第75篇第10节。上半句是：“恶人一切的角，我要砍断。”

[727]老祖父指古希腊建筑师迪达勒斯，第一间忏梅阁子指他所修建的迷宫，见第十四章注[214]。

[728]格莉塞尔・斯蒂文斯夫人，见第十四章注[210]。

[729]据说有一家姓兰伯特的，几代人生下来浑身都长满猪鬃毛。

[730]挪亚喝醉酒一事，见第一章注[51]。

[731]原文（ark）是双关语。既指“方舟”，又指“约柜”。摩西曾把写有天主十诫的两块石版放在约柜里。见《出埃及记》第35至37章。

[732]康康舞是十九世纪三十年代流行于巴黎舞厅的一种通俗舞蹈，其特征是高高踢腿，露出衬裙和大腿。

[733]天堂地狱表演，指天主教的安魂弥撒，也叫黑弥撒。

[734]衬衣凌乱，原文为法语。

[735]“瞧……子！”和“吸……岁！”原文均为法语。

[736]“莎……作”，原文为法语。

[737]煎蛋饼（omelet）与莎士比亚的剧作《哈姆莱特》（Hamlet）谐音。

[738]“为……解，”原文为法语。参看第十二章注[469]。

[739]“我的狼”，原文为法语。

[740]娼妓街和下文中的红地毯，均参看第三章注[158]及有关正文。

[741]“蛇根木……矮胖寡妇”，参看第三章注[56]及有关正文。

[742]“我飞了”，参看第九章注[550]及有关正文。“我……面”，参看第十二章注[185]及有关正文。

[743]“以……世”，见第三章注[14]。

[744]“父亲”，原文为拉丁文。参看第九章注[466]及有关正文。

[745]“他妈的！”原文为法语。

[746]“喂，呵，呵！”原是饲养猎鹰者对鹰的呼唤。在《哈姆莱特》第1幕第5场中，霍拉旭即这样招呼刚见过父王鬼魂的王子。王子回答说：“喂，呵，呵，孩儿！来，鸟儿，来。”

[747]埋葬完奶奶，见第二章注[29]及有关正文。

[748]医院俱乐部，参看第八章注[86]及有关正文。

[749]“六英里小岬”是狩猎起点，位于威克洛港以北六英里处。：“平屋”是一座庄宅。

[750]“九英里石标”位于威克洛港以北九英里处。

[751]在印有王冠、铁锚等的盘子上掷骰子玩的游戏。

[752]杯艺，见第二章注[66]。

[753]赌博经纪人说，除了一匹（通常是大热门）赛马，对其他任何马他都愿意以十博一跟人打赌（赢则对方取“十”，输则对方赔“一”）。

[754]旋转詹尼是一种赌博机器，开动几只玩具马在桌上赛跑，以决定胜负。

[755]卖猴子是赌博行话。“猴子”为五百英镑的俚语。这里，赌注经纪人说，他可以把赌注押到五百英镑。

[756]获巴黎奖的“锡兰”，见第二章注[63]及有关正文。

[757]“北方的科克”是第五代戈登公爵乔治・戈登（1770一1836）的绰号。他是苏格兰人，其手下的苏格兰高地联队士兵镇压了一七九八年的爱尔兰韦克斯福德天主教农民起义。

[758]一路险崛，见第二章注[62]。

[759]橙带党，见第二章注[53]。

[760]原文为拉丁文。这是斯蒂芬任教的学校校长迪希当天上午对他说过的话。

[761]绿党，指爱尔兰国民党。后文中的约翰爵士，见第二章注[59]。

[762]街上的喊叫，见第二章注[78]。

[763]“可是……对约克郡”，出自通俗歌曲《我的意中人是位约克郡姑娘》。“对约克郡”后面省略了“小玫瑰”字样。参看第十章注[216]及有关正文。

[764]占卜师的手杖，见第三章注[173]及有关正文。

[765]庄严的祭神舞，见第三章注[185]及有关正文。

[766]古德温教授，参看第八章注[64]及有关正文。

[767]马金尼，见第八章注[36]。

[768]莱格特・伯恩夫人是都柏林的舞蹈教员。P・M・利文斯顿在都柏林开办一座舞蹈学校。

[769]在第十章中，曾形容马金尼“举止端庄”，见第十章注[13]及有关正文。

[770]凯蒂・兰内尔（1831一1915）是奥地利芭蕾舞教师，舞蹈动作设计者，曾在伦敦的英国杂耍剧院任职。

[771]原文为法语。

[772]“两……人”是《我的意中人是一位约克郡姑娘》的开头两句，参看第十章注[216]。

[773]时光跳舞的描述，与《时间之舞》相呼应，见第四章汪[84]及有关正文。

[774]嘲讽的镜子，见第二章注[35]。

[775]原文是法语。

[776]原文是法语。

[777]“我……肢”出自《我的意中人是一位约克郡姑娘》。这里，“腰肢”后面省略了“又细又小”字样。

[778]原文为法语。“面对面”指男女面对面地分别站成一排。“调换手”指一排男人从站成一排的女人当中穿来穿去，反复调换着伸手给女舞伴。

[779]原文为法语。这几句舞蹈动作指示的意思是：叫男人排在中间，女人在周围手拉手，状似用链条把男人圈在篮子里。

[780]原文为法语。“糅面包”指双手反复向前向下地活动，作糅面包的姿势。

[781]原文为法语。

[782]“地地……娘！”和前文中自动钢琴所奏的“美极了，美极了”以及“我的妞儿……娘”，均出自《我的意中人是位约克郡姑娘》。参看第十章注[216]。下文中的“独舞”，原文为法语。

[783]方登戈舞是一种轻快的西班牙舞。

[784]“她……裳”是“可是我有种偏爱，对约克郡小玫瑰”前面的两句，见本章注[763]。

[785]原文为法语。

[786]据《约翰福音》第12章第12至15节，耶稣骑驴进耶路撒冷，民众欢呼他是“以色列的君王”。

[787]号笛舞是英国水手跳的一种舞。

[788]据《马太福音》第8章第28至34节，耶稣在加大拉（巴勒斯坦古城）治好了两个恶鬼附体的人。他打发鬼到猪群里去，整群的猪就冲下山崖，蹿入湖中，都淹死了。

[789]科尼，见第五章注[3]。

[790]钢铁鲨鱼是对军舰的戏称。

[791]原文为德语。指第三章注[15]及有关正文和第七章“亲爱而肮脏的都柏林”中所描述的两个老妪。

[792]第十三章第二段等处曾描述娃娃博德曼坐在一辆童车里。

[793]“天啊，她是无与伦比的”原是《我的意中人是位约克郡姑娘》中的一句，这里把“她”，改成了“他”。参看第十章注[216]。

[794]酒桶出贵族，指吉尼斯公司的爱德华・塞西尔・吉尼斯和亚瑟・吉尼斯。他们因酿制烈性黑啤酒发了迹，均封为勋爵，见第五章注[44]、[45]。

[795]蓝色的引线，见第三章注[125]及有关正文。

[796]洛夫神父，见第十章注[96]及有关正文。

[797]布莱泽斯乘轻便二轮马车以及盲人，均见第十一章。

[798]“恰似……身子”，见第五章注[100]及有关正文。

[799]迪丽是斯蒂芬的一个妹妹，见第十章注[124]及有关正文。雪酥糕上面有一层用奶油和蛋白做成的糖霜。

[800]酿酒桶，见第十二章注[232]。

[801]原文为法语。这里指总督夫人。当总督夫妇的马车驰往迈勒斯义卖会会址时，位于他们必经之路的三一学院校园中一直在奏着《我的意中人是位约克郡姑娘》的曲调。

[802]原文为拉丁文。

[803]墨丘利・玛拉基，参看第一章往[101]及有关正文。

[804]狐猴是栖息在马达加斯加和科摩罗群岛森林地区的稀有动物。

[805]小狗，见第一章注[17]。

[806]伟大而可爱的母亲，见第一章注[12]。

[807]原文为希腊文，见第一章注[13]。

[808]“世……多”，见第六章注[99]及有关正文。

[809]“爱……秘”是《谁与弗格斯同去》一诗中的一句，见第一章注[41]及有关正文。

[810]“大……眼”，见第九章注[231]及有关正文。

[811]在一九0四年，多基（见第二章注[8]）的修道院路住着一个叫作帕特里克・J・李的人。

[812]这里指以乌尔苏拉（见第一章注[21]命名的女修道院所编印的祈祷书。大赦见本章注[236]。

[813]另一个世界，见第五章注[36]及有关正文。

[814]指罪犯在地狱里虽受火刑，形体犹存。

[815]“刚……骨头”，见第八章注[207]。

[816]天主的手代表其权力意志，因为凡是看见天主的人都不能继续生存下去。见《出埃及记》第33章第20节。

[817]原文为法语。

[818]“要么……所有”，见第三章注[188]。

[819]原文为拉丁文，出自《旧约・耶利米书》第2章第20节。在《艺术家年轻时的写照》一书第5章中，当克兰利问斯蒂芬复活节那天，他为什么不照母亲的吩咐去向天主履行职责时，斯蒂芬回答说：“我不侍奉。”（见中译本第286页）。

[820]骷髅冈即把耶稣钉在十字架上的地方。（见《路加福音》第23章第32节）。

[821]原文为德语，意思是“必要的”、“不可缺少的”。系《众神的黄昏》中的魔剑名，参看本章注[696]。

[822]“整个……来”，参看第二章注[5]及有关正文。

[823]斗犬，指行政司法长官。

[824]替你们出房租的先生们，指密探。

[825]“共……势”，参看本章注[96]。

[826]贝拉・科恩的儿子在牛津读书一事是佐伊告诉布卢姆的，见本章注[191]及有关正文。

[827]“我……空气”，参看第十一章注[38]及有关正文。

[828]哈伦・拉希德，见第三章注[159]。

[829]狩猎时，为了便于让猎犬跟踪，将大回香籽放在口袋里，一路拖着走。留下臭迹。

[830]嗬嗬帽，见第十章注[220]及有关正文。

[831]趿拉的拖鞋，见第六章注[3]及有关正文。

[832]“学领袖样儿”是跟领头人一样动作，错则受罚的游戏。

[833]奥多德太太（旅店老板娘）、精明鬼伯克和赖尔登太太，均见第十二章注[179]及有关正文。无名氏见本章注[159]。

[834]查尔斯・卡梅伦爵士，见第十章注[111]。

[835]红穆雷，见第七章注[4]。布雷顿，见第七章注[6]。蒂・迈・希利，见第七章注

[836]约翰・霍华德・巴涅尔，见第八章注[148]及有关正文。萨蒙，见弟八章注

[837]女邮政局长，见第五章注[6]及有关正文。

[838]“独脚”霍罗翰，见第五章注[10]。

[839]艾伦・麦吉尼斯太太，见第十章注[14]。

[840]乔・加拉赫太太，见本章注[66]。

[841]吉米・亨利，即詹姆斯・J．亨利，见第十章注[177]。

[842]拉拉西曾任拉思曼斯的爱尔兰海军学校校长。但一九0四年已离职。

[843]克罗夫顿，见第六章注[45]。丹・道森，见第七章注[55]。牙医布卢姆，见第十章注[202]、第十二章注[538]。

[844]克朗斯基亚见第七章“在希勃尼亚首都中心”开头部分。有夫之妇，见第十章注[27]。

[845]杜比达特小姐，参看第八章注[242]及有关正文。

[846]罗巴克是位于都柏林中心区以南三英里处的一座庄园。

[847]德里米，见第十三章注[95]。

[848]海斯上校是爱尔兰大西南铁路上的警长。

[849]马斯添斯基和西特伦都是布卢姆的老街坊，见第四章注[6]及有关正文。

[850]彭罗斯是排字房的老领班，姓蒙古斯，见第七章注[33]。

[851]艾伦・菲加泽尔，参看第十一章注[27]。

[852]摩西・赫佐格是个犹太侏儒，见第十章注[2]及有关正文。迈克尔・E・杰拉蒂，见第十二章注[5]及有关正文。

[853]警官特洛伊的名字曾出现于第十二章，见该章注[1]及有关正文。

[854]当时在拉思曼斯路住着一个名叫H・德纳姆・加尔布雷斯的人，这是他的妻子。第十八章中摩莉想起了她。

[855]在一九0四年，维克洛郡的卡尔纽确有个名叫弗朗西斯・F・布雷迪的医生。

[856]这是布卢姆幻想的自己所著悬赏小说的题目，见第十二章注[132]及有关正文。

[857]米莉亚姆・丹德拉德太太，见第八章注[91]和本章注[585]。

[858]比弗街，参看本章注[68]及有关正文。

[859]“多亏了”是反话。在一九0四年，英王爱德华七世（1841一1910）同时为爱尔兰国王。其子乔治（威尔士亲王）则将继承英国及爱尔兰王位。

[860]“看……史”，这里，斯蒂芬借用了当天早晨英国人海恩斯对他说的话。见第一章注[108]及有关正文。

[861]这里把布莱克名句中的“记忆的女儿们”做了改动，参看第二章注[3]。

[862]不生格是双关语，既可理解为“石女”，又含有“菲属格”的意思。

[863]西绪福斯是希腊神话中的科林斯国王，被罚入地狱。他把巨石推上山顶，但巨石随即滚下来，永无终止。

[864]“他们……究竟”一语，出自丁尼生的《轻骑旅》第2节，原诗是指这些骑兵唯有勇往直前去送死。参看本章注[223]。

[865]斯威夫特（见第三章注[44]在《布商的信》（1724一1725）中抨击了英国政府对爱尔兰的货币政策。第四封中有这么一段：“没有得到被统治者同意的一切政府，其定义不折不扣是奴役。然后事实上，十一个全副武装者肯定会打败一个穿衬衫的人。”斯蒂芬引用时把原文又做了改动。

[866]“勇敢的少年兵”出典见第十二章注[95]。

[867]指拳击。十九世纪六十年代，当这一运动被重新引进英国时，为了提高其地位，被称作“自卫的高尚技艺”。参看第十二章注[291]。这里，斯蒂芬把“自卫”改成“自吹”。

[868]原文为法语。这是意译，直译为：“这些毕竟是你们的葱头”。

[869]多利・格雷是以布尔战争力题材的通俗歌曲《再见吧，多利・格雷》（作者为威尔・D。科布与保罗・巴恩斯）中的女主人公。

[870]以色列人的领袖。当约书亚派两个探子到迦南耶利哥去刺探该城虚实时，妓女喇合把他们藏了起来。城陷落后，喇合照事先约好的，把红绳子绑在窗口上，因而一家人得以幸免于难。见《约书亚记》第2、6章。

[871]“再……子”一语出自吉卜林的《心神恍惚的乞丐》，参看第九章注[67]。

[872]这里把《我撇下的姑娘》中的“我”改成了“你”，参看第九章注[120]。

[873]扁圆形桔子，指地球。

[874]一八九九年，俄国外交大臣米哈伊尔奉沙皇尼古拉二世（1868一1918）之命，邀请二十六国的代表在海牙召开国际会议，会后公布《海牙公约》――通过和平解决国际争端的公约，并成立常设仲裁法院。关于英王爱德华七世的睦邻政策，见第十二章注[475]。

[875]威廉・布菜莱（见第二章注[3]）常把教士与国王作为压迫者的象征，相提并论。

[876]坎蒂（Cunty）为音译，意译为“阴部的”。

[877]圣心是信奉罗马天主教的爱尔兰的象征，参看第六章注[181]。因此，属于英国圣公会的英王绝不可能穿绣着圣心的衣服。

[878]嘉德勋章是英国的最高勋章，蓟花勋章仅次于嘉德。金羊毛勋章是西班牙和奥地利的最高勋章。丹麦的象勋章创设于一一八九年。

[879]斯金纳骑兵章以在印度立功勋的骑兵队长詹姆斯・斯金纳（1778一1841）命名。普罗宾骑兵章系以在印度立过显赫功绩的戴顿・麦克纳吞・普罗宾将军（1833一1924）而命名。

[880]林肯法学团体是英国伦敦具有授予律师资格的四个法学团体之一。

[881]一六三七年在美国波士顿（不是马萨诸塞）成立的炮队。

[882]“嘬……糖”，见第八章注[3]及有关正文。

[883]共济会（参看第五章注[8]）会员装束的爱德华七世的肖像，至今尚存。“德国制造”暗示他的德国血统。参看第十二章注[476]。下面的“禁止小便”，原文为法语，参看本章注[68]及有关正文。

[884]《和平，地道的和平》（1875）是英国主教、诗人爱德华・亨利・比克尔斯蒂（1825一1906）所作的一首诗的题目及首句。

[885]“你……端”，原文为阿拉伯语。

[886]“假定……灭亡吧”，参看《约翰福音》第11章第50节：“让一个人替全民而死，免得整个民族被消灭。”第51节：“他在预言耶稣要替犹太人而死……”

[887]《滑稽的耶稣》，见第一章注[102]及有关正文。

[888]“我……明”，出自《滑稽的耶稣》。

[889]英国王室的纹章图案系由一只狮于和一头独角兽组成，参看第十四章注[30]。

[890]苦艾酒和绿妖精，见第三章注[101]。

[891]红是英格兰的国色，绿是爱尔兰的国色。那两个士兵是英国人，所以这里把“拿红布给公牛看就发火”的说法改了一下。

[892]凯文・伊根，见第三章注[69]。晓党，见第三章注[125]。

[893]原文为法语。长着黄牙齿的母夜叉，指维多利亚女王，见第三章注[112]、[113]及有关正文。

[894]原文为法语。长着黄牙齿的母夜叉，指维多利亚女王，见第三章注[112]、[113]及有关正文。

[895]原文为法语。长着黄牙齿的母夜叉，指维多利亚女王，见第三章注[112]、[113]及有关正文。

[896]帕特里克・伊根是凯文・伊根之子，见第三章注[68]、[69]及有关正文。

[897]社会主义者，参看第三章注[76]及有关正文。

[898]这一长串名字中的前四个令人联想到散布于奥地利、法、俄、西班牙等国的“野鹅”家族，见第三章注[68]。约翰・蒲柏・亨尼西（1834一1891）是保守的爱尔兰大主教政客。

[899]“把……们！”原文是德、英、西语混合而成的。

[900]绿胜似红，见本章注[891]。沃尔夫・托恩，见第十章注[85]。

[901]德威特，参看第八章往[122]。

[902]推平头的小伙子，见第六章注门[19]。下面的两句歌词出自《推平头的小伙子》。

[903]朗博尔德，见第十二章注[161]。

[904]一八九0年，法院宣判皮尔西太太杀害霍格（不是莫格）太太及其婴儿。

[905]沃伊辛和塞登的杀人案分别发生于一九一七年和一九一二年，作者在这里把年份提前了。

[906]“忘……福”是《推平头的小伙子》中的一句歌词。

[907]勃起，参看第十二章注[170]及有关正文。

[908]“每……令”，意思是说，每绞死一个人，把绞索一截截地卖悼，可获得十先令。参看第十二章注[164]。

[909]参看第一章注[48]，歌词略有出入。

[910]“在……事”，原文为法语。

[911]在《哈姆莱特》第1幕第5场中，哈姆莱特对霍拉旭说：“不，凭着圣帕特里克的名义……”

[912]参看第一章注[63]及有关正文：送牛奶的老妪“像一个坐在毒菌上的巫婆”。

[913]在《哈姆菜特》第1幕第5场中，父王的鬼魂对王子说：“哈姆莱恃……你必须替他报复那逆伦惨恶的杀身仇恨。”

[914]在《艺术家年轻时的写照》一书中，斯蒂芬对达文说：“爱尔兰是一个吃掉自己的猪崽子的母猪。”（见中译本第240页）。

[915]“西班牙国王的女儿”，出自一首儿歌。“我亲爱的”．原文为爱尔兰语。

[916]“家里的陌生人”，指英国入侵者，见第九章注[20]。

[917]狺女是苏格兰凯尔特民间传说中的女妖。

[918]“哎哟！”原文为爱尔兰语。“毛……牛”，见第一章注[63]。

[919]“你……啦？”一语出自歌谣《穿绿衣》，见第三章注[136]，引用时做了一些改动。

[920]“帽子的戏怯”．见第三章注[174]及有关正文。克洛因的主教能从帽子里掏出圣堂的慢帐。

[921]三位一体的第三位是圣灵，这里指教会。《我热爱的教士》，原文为爱尔兰语，是爱尔兰小说家约翰・巴尼姆（1798一1842）所作的一首歌的题目。写一个爱尔兰农民对爱国的神父的感情。

[922]在福楼拜的《包法利夫人》第3卷第8章中，爱玛即将咽气时，村里以“哲家家”自称的赫麦，把前来为她送终的教士比作死尸气味招来的乌鸦。

[923]在布尔战争中，许多爱尔兰人站在布尔人一方，见第八章注[121]及有关正文。

[924]红衣兵（或“红上衣”）指英国兵。在布尔战争中，都柏林近卫步连队的第一营和第二营曾在南非为英国战斗，于一九00年的圣帕特里克节（3月17日）受到维多利亚女王的嘉奖。射击队指持有来复枪的步兵队。

[925]布是布尔的简称，参看第八章注[121]。

[926]“可怕的土耳克”，见第一章注[42]。下文中的“插有鸟颈毛的熊皮帽”其实是掷弹兵戴的，参看第五章注[7]及有关正文。

[927]圣殿骑士团，见本章注[659]。

[928]洛克滩，见本章注[102]。

[929]“快抢，速夺！”原文为希伯来文。据《以赛亚书》第8章，以赛亚奉上主之命把这四个字写在一块大板上，并用以为第二个儿子命名，以提醒以色列人，亚述王将率军掠夺他们。共济会用此语来要求会员们行动敏捷。

[930]据海德一九八九年版（见第487页第8至12行），土兵伊尔的台词前面有“市民”的台同和舞台动作：[“市民”：“爱琳直到审判日！”（特威迪鼓手长和“市民”彼此炫耀着勋章、绶带、战利品和伤痕。他们怀着深仇大恨，相互致敬。）]“爱……日！”原文为爱尔兰语。这是爱尔兰人作战时的呐喊，又是一首爱尔兰歌曲的题目。

[931]“加里欧文”和它所诵之诗，见第十二章注[33]、[46]。《上帝……王》，见第八章注[3]。

[932]“勇士与丽人”出自英国诗人约翰・德莱顿（1631一1700）的颂诗《亚历山大的宴会――又名音乐的力量》（1697）中的“惟有勇士能配丽人”之句。

[933]“红……衣”，参看本章注[924]。圣乔治为英国的主保圣人。

[934]作者在这里把布莱克的《清白的征兆》（见第二章注[73]及有关正文）中的“英格兰”改为“爱尔兰”。

[935]“生命之赐与者”是当天晚上斯蒂芬在医院里说过的话，见第十四章注[29]及有关正文。

[936]“双……嫩”，见第三章注[162]及有关正文。

[937]“都……啦！”参看本章注[20]。在下面的舞台说明中，作者把过去和未来发生的事都写了进去（见本章注[939]。[938]）。

[938]R・J．加特林（1818一1903）在美国南北战争时期发明的手摇机枪。一九一六年的复活节，一群爱尔兰军人，发动了一场反英起义，占领了都柏林邮政总局。在延续数日的巷战中，英国出动野战炮兵队并用重加特林机枪扫射起义者，残酷镇压。

[939]在一七九八年的反英起义中，爱尔兰农民抡起耕地用的铁镐来对抗全副武装的英国士兵。

[940]“日头暗了下来”，见《路加福音》第23章第45节。这里加上了“午夜的”。“大地震动”，见《马太福音》第27章第51节。

[941]前景公墓和杰罗姆山公墓，分别见第六章注[85]和注[143]。

[942]据《马太福音》第25章第33节至第46节，绵羊代表义人（受祝福者），山羊代表不义之人（被咒诅者）。

[943]“身穿……娘”一语，出自《我的意中人是位约克郡姑娘》，见第十章注[216]。

[944]“大笑着的魔女”是布卢姆这一天早晨所读的获奖小说《马查姆的妙举》中的人物，见第四章末尾。

[945]“公谊……斯特”，见第九章注[1]。

[946]“龙牙……们”，典出自希腊神话。卡德摩斯把他杀死的一头龙的牙齿埋在地里，从垄沟中遂跳出一批凶悍的武士，互相残杀。最后剩下五个人，帮助他建立了底比斯的卫城。

[947]红十字骑士团（又名互助慈善团）是共济会的一个支派，参看本章注[659]。

[948]沃尔夫・托恩，见第十章注[85]。亨利・格拉顿，见第七章注[174]。

[949]史密斯・奥布赖恩，见第六章注[35]。丹尼尔・奥康内尔，见第二章注[51]。

[950]迈克尔・达维特（1846一1906），爱尔兰土地同盟创始人。伊萨克・巴特，见第七章注[163]。

[951]贾斯廷・麦卡锡（1830一1912），爱尔兰历史学家，一八七九年进入政界，任反巴涅尔的自治党主席，和巴涅尔是真正的死对头，见第二章注[81]。

[952]阿瑟・格里菲思，见第三章注[108]。约翰・雷德蒙（1856一1918），爱尔兰民族主义党领袖。一八九0年十一月巴涅尔失势后，他成为巴涅尔派的首领，致力于促进爱尔兰自治。

[953]约翰・奥利里（1830一1907），政治观点激进，积极从事芬尼杜（参看第二章注[54]）机关报《爱尔兰人民》的编辑工作和爱尔兰文学运动。利尔奥・约翰尼，实无此人，是文字游戏，把约翰・奥利里的姓名颠倒而成。

[954]爱德华・菲茨杰拉德勋爵，见第十章注[143]。杰拉德・菲茨爱德华是把爱德华・菲茨杰拉德的姓名颠倒而成。

[955]峡谷的奥德诺霍是信天主教的爱尔兰凯尔特贵族。奥德诺霍的峡谷也是文字游戏，把它倒过来说的。

[956]圣女芭巴拉，见第十二章注[594]。她被父亲关在一座有两扇窗户的塔里。皈依基督教后，她叫人开了第三扇窗户，用以代表三位一体。

[957]玛拉基，见第一章注[10]。奥弗林神父，见第八章注[203]。长着一双左脚，见本章注[529]。

[958]这里把海恩斯（见第一章注[64]）和休・C・洛夫（见第十章注[96]）并称。

[959]原文为拉丁文。这里把弥撒经文中的“上主”改为“魔鬼”。参看第一章第二段。

[960]这里把上句的回应中的“神”改成了“魔鬼”。参看本章注[14]及有关正文。

[961]原文为拉丁文。神父献祭时重复耶稣的话。参看第一章注[7]。

[962]“王了……哈！”这是把下文中的受祝福者声之声倒过来说的。

[963]阿多奈是希伯来文天主的译音，为耶和华的代用词。

[964]这里将英语的God（天主）倒过来（dog，意思是狗），中间加了十个字母O，元音就被拉长了。

[965]受祝福者和前面的被咒诅者，参看本章注[942]。

[966]橙带党是爱尔兰新教政治集团，绿党是天主教的党派。“教皇”是橙带党给足球起的俚语，以奚落天主教徒。《每天……歌》是夭主教圣歌。

[967]据本书海德一九八九年版（第490页第8行），士兵卡尔的台词后面有这样一句舞台说明：[（猎犬在群众外围嗅着，大声吠叫。）]

[968]原文为爱尔兰语，表示亲热的称呼。

[969]“该升天堂啦”一语见第二章中的谜语（见该章注[28]及有关正文）。谜语中的“十一点”指的是酒店打烊的时间，而这里说上午八点三十五分，暗示酒店刚开张。

[970]这里，缺牙老奶奶借用了《贫穷的老妪》（见第一章注[86]）中的诗词。这位象征爱尔兰的老妪自问自答说：“那时爱尔兰将获得自由吗？对！爱尔兰将获得自由。”

[971]原文为拉丁文。见《马太福音》第27章第5节。后文中的“理性的筵席”一语出自英国诗人蒲柏的《仿贺拉斯作》（1733）。

[972]这里，老鸨站在士兵卡尔一方，谎称是斯蒂芬先动的手。

[973]贝内特军士长，见第八章注[220]。

[974]“我……噜”，见第五章第一段末尾。

[975]詹米特餐馆，见第十二章往[108]。

[976]卡布拉是都柏林东南郊一地区。

[977]民间俗信，如果对梦游患者轻轻呼其教名或昵称，就能安然无恙地把他唤醒。

[978]“黑豹”是海恩斯说的梦话，见第一章开头部分。吸血鬼，见第三章注[169]及有关正文。

[979]这是《谁与弗格斯同去》（见第一章注[41]）一诗头两行的片段。全句为：“而今谁与弗格斯一道，驱车穿过密林织成的树荫？”

[980]这是《谁与弗格斯同去》一诗第10行和第11行的片段。全句为：“他还管辖树林的阴影，混饨的海洋露出雪白的胸脯。”

[981]“我发誓……不泄露”是共济会会员的誓词。

[982]一锚链长为一八五米，即十分之一海里。

[983]据凯尔特神话，仙女们把聪明漂亮的娃娃拐走，换上一个愚蠢丑陋的娃娃。玻璃鞋的典故出自童话《灰姑娘》。

[984]“自右至左地读”，说明这是一部希伯来文的书。参看第七章注[36]。