An automatically generated NaNoGenMo 2016 submission. Based on James Joyce's Ulysses
Sea and headland now grew dim. Thalatta! Thalatta! She is our great sweet mother. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head. Behind him he heard Buck Mulligan club with his heavy bathtowel the leader shoots of ferns or grasses.
new paganism.. Idle mockery. Lead him not into temptation. Toothless Kinch and I, the supermen.
Why? Because you have the cursed jesuit strain in you, only it’s injected the wrong way. The sugar is in the bag. White breast of the dim sea. He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned.
Slow music, please. He will ask for it. Stephen haled his upended valise to the table and sat down to wait. Haines sat down on a stone, smoking.
Your mother and some visitor came out of the drawingroom. His curling shaven lips laughed and the edges of his white glittering teeth. So I carried the boat of incense then at Clongowes. He turned to Stephen and asked blandly:
A horde of heresies fleeing with mitres awry: Photius and the brood of mockers of whom Mulligan was one, and Arius, warring his life long upon the consubstantiality of the Son with the Father, and Valentine, spurning Christ’s terrene body, and the subtle African heresiarch Sabellius who held that the Father was Himself His own Son. An elderly man shot up near the spur of rock a blowing red face. Shut your eyes, gents. He put the huge key in his inner pocket.
Its ferrule followed lightly on the path, squealing at his heels. Epi oinopa ponton. Why don’t you play them as I do? To hell with them all. A servant too. There’s a lemon in the locker.
The scrotumtightening sea. Shut your eyes, gents. You have eaten all we left, I suppose. He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned.
I’m not a hero, however. She was crying in her wretched bed. O, I shall expire! Break the news to her gently, Aubrey! I shall die! With slit ribbons of his shirt whipping the air he hops and hobbles round the table, with trousers down at heels, chased by Ades of Magdalen with the tailor’s shears.
—Someone killed her, Stephen said gloomily.
God, we’ll simply have to dress the character. He fears the lancet of my art as I fear that of his. But to think of your mother begging you with her last breath to kneel down and pray for her. Where is his guncase?
I am another now and yet the same. Silent with awe and pity I went to her bedside.
My mother’s a jew, my father’s a bird.
And to the loud voice that now bids her be silent with wondering unsteady eyes.
Her eyes on me to strike me down. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head. Damn all else they are good for. It asks me too.
I’m not joking, Kinch. Fergus’ song: I sang it alone in the house, holding down the long dark chords. It called again. His arm.
Haines, come in. A sail veering about the blank bay waiting for a swollen bundle to bob up, roll over to the sun a puffy face, saltwhite. She praised the goodness of the milk, pouring it out. I’m told it’s a grand language by them that knows.
Memories beset his brooding brain. You know, Dedalus, you have the real Oxford manner. new paganism.. Two strong shrill whistles answered through the calm.
Contradiction. Her cerebral lobes are not functioning. I’m the Übermensch. Stephen turned away.
That will do nicely. But it has a Hellenic ring, hasn’t it? Tripping and sunny like the buck himself. I’m inconsequent.
—I am a servant of two masters, Stephen said, an English and an Italian.
Thalatta! Thalatta! She is our great sweet mother. I’m not joking, Kinch. Hair on end. Buck Mulligan bent across to Stephen and said with coarse vigour:
I don’t want to see my country fall into the hands of German jews either. I’m not equal to Thomas Aquinas and the fiftyfive reasons he has made out to prop it up. As he and others see me. Where’s the sugar? O, jay, there’s no milk.
Crouching by a patient cow at daybreak in the lush field, a witch on her toadstool, her wrinkled fingers quick at the squirting dugs. A cored apple, filled with brown sugar, roasting for her at the hob on a dark autumn evening. A wandering crone, lowly form of an immortal serving her conqueror and her gay betrayer, their common cuckquean, a messenger from the secret morning.
—Our swim first, Buck Mulligan said.
Out here in the dark with a man I don’t know raving and moaning to himself about shooting a black panther. All. Words Mulligan had spoken a moment since in mockery to the stranger. He howled, without looking up from the fire:
That will do nicely. I paid the rent. A ponderous Saxon. Wait till I have a few pints in me first.
The ghostcandle to light her agony. From whom? From the milkwoman or from him. Inshore and farther out the mirror of water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet.
I am the boy
That can enjoy
Invisibility.
They wash and tub and scrub. I’m not equal to Thomas Aquinas and the fiftyfive reasons he has made out to prop it up. From whom? From the milkwoman or from him. Phantasmal mirth, folded away: muskperfumed.
O, I shall expire! Break the news to her gently, Aubrey! I shall die! With slit ribbons of his shirt whipping the air he hops and hobbles round the table, with trousers down at heels, chased by Ades of Magdalen with the tailor’s shears. To me it’s all a mockery and beastly. A sail veering about the blank bay waiting for a swollen bundle to bob up, roll over to the sun a puffy face, saltwhite. For my sake and for all our sakes.
He’s up in Dottyville with Connolly Norman. Stephen stood at his post, gazing over the calm sea towards the headland. You must read them in the original. Slow music, please. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak.
Idle mockery. Says he found a sweet young thing down there. A servant too. Kinch, the loveliest mummer of them all!
Thalatta! Thalatta! She is our great sweet mother. He’s up in Dottyville with Connolly Norman. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head. In a suddenly changed tone he added:
I want puce gloves and green boots.
My mother’s a jew, my father’s a bird.
I’m the Übermensch. It asks me too.
You must read them in the original. A birdcage hung in the sunny window of her house when she was a girl. Stephen stood at his post, gazing over the calm sea towards the headland. He stood up, gravely ungirdled and disrobed himself of his gown, saying resignedly:
All. To me it’s all a mockery and beastly. A hand plucking the harpstrings, merging their twining chords. It’s a toss up, I think.
My mother’s a jew, my father’s a bird.
Old shrunken paps. A servant too. Half twelve.
Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. It’s quite simple. We must go to Athens. Buck Mulligan sighed and, having filled his mouth with a crust thickly buttered on both sides, stretched forth his legs and began to search his trouser pockets.
The aunt always keeps plainlooking servants for Malachi. One moment. A servant too. He put it back in his sidepocket and took from his waistcoatpocket a nickel tinderbox, sprang it open too, and, having lit his cigarette, held the flaming spunk towards Stephen in the shell of his hands.
It lay beneath him, a bowl of bitter waters. I’m not joking, Kinch. I’m not a believer myself, that is to say.
—Are you going in here, Malachi?
The aunt always keeps plainlooking servants for Malachi. I must give you a shirt and a few noserags. You must read them in the original. He turned abruptly his grey searching eyes from the sea to Stephen’s face.
The problem is to get money. Idle mockery. All. It asks me too.
You must read them in the original. He can’t make you out. Fill us out some more tea, Kinch. Buck Mulligan wiped again his razorblade.
I’m quite frank with you. I’m not a believer myself, that is to say. You crossed her last wish in death and yet you sulk with me because I don’t whinge like some hired mute from Lalouette’s.
—Someone killed her, Stephen said gloomily.
Buck Mulligan wiped the razorblade neatly. His curling shaven lips laughed and the edges of his white glittering teeth. A wandering crone, lowly form of an immortal serving her conqueror and her gay betrayer, their common cuckquean, a messenger from the secret morning. He laid the brush aside and, laughing with delight, cried:
Sea and headland now grew dim. new paganism.. He looked at them, his wellshaped mouth open happily, his eyes, from which he had suddenly withdrawn all shrewd sense, blinking with mad gaiety. The father is rotto with money.
The problem is to get money. Its ferrule followed lightly on the path, squealing at his heels. A scared calf’s face gilded with marmalade.
—Do you pay rent for this tower?
I see them pop off every day in the Mater and Richmond and cut up into tripes in the dissectingroom. Chrysostomos. Well, it’s seven mornings a pint at twopence is seven twos is a shilling and twopence over and these three mornings a quart at fourpence is three quarts is a shilling. Stephen filled again the three cups.
I am another now and yet the same. Her glass of water from the kitchen tap when she had approached the sacrament. Isn’t the sea what Algy calls it: a great sweet mother? The snotgreen sea.
—Are you not coming in? Buck Mulligan asked.
Epi oinopa ponton. I’m not a hero, however. God, these bloody English! Bursting with money and indigestion. And no more turn aside and brood.
Today the bards must drink and junket. A wandering crone, lowly form of an immortal serving her conqueror and her gay betrayer, their common cuckquean, a messenger from the secret morning. We feel in England that we have treated you rather unfairly. He added in a preacher’s tone:
To me it’s all a mockery and beastly. It’ll be swept up that way when the tide comes in about one. It lay beneath him, a bowl of bitter waters.
—I am, ma’am, Buck Mulligan answered.
We must go to Athens. Her door was open: she wanted to hear my music. He’s up in Dottyville with Connolly Norman. Are you from the west, sir?
Etiquette is etiquette. Thalatta! Thalatta! She is our great sweet mother. Damn all else they are good for. Zut! Nom de Dieu!
God, we’ll simply have to dress the character.
Turma circumdet.
To the voice that will shrive and oil for the grave all there is of her but her woman’s unclean loins, of man’s flesh made not in God’s likeness, the serpent’s prey. If he stays on here I am off.
The Father and the Son idea. Sea and headland now grew dim. He will ask for it. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak.
The Father and the Son idea. A scared calf’s face gilded with marmalade. Come out, Kinch.
—Ah, go to God! Buck Mulligan said.
Lead him not into temptation. From whom? From the milkwoman or from him. And you refused. Buck Mulligan frowned quickly and said:
All. They wash and tub and scrub. All.
—In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.
That will do nicely. I remember only ideas and sensations. Stephen stood at his post, gazing over the calm sea towards the headland.
—Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit!
His hands plunged and rummaged in his trunk while he called for a clean handkerchief. Agenbite of inwit. It is mine.
—That woman is coming up with the milk.
She was crying in her wretched bed. Now I eat his salt bread. They wash and tub and scrub. Sit down. And when I makes water I makes water.
Her cerebral lobes are not functioning. It’s a beastly thing and nothing else. I’m not equal to Thomas Aquinas and the fiftyfive reasons he has made out to prop it up.
—There’s only one sense of the word, it seems to me, Stephen said.
Wherever they gather they eat up the nation’s vital strength. You see if you can get it into your two papers. The black north and true blue bible.
—Two, he said, strapping and stowing his pocketbook away.
Percentage of salted horses. A kind of a bridge. Not theirs: these clothes, this speech, these gestures. Thursday.
This is for shillings. This is for shillings. Why had they chosen all that part? Not wholly for the smooth caress. What was the end of Pyrrhus?
When he had reached the schoolhouse voices again contending called to him. You were not born to be a teacher, I think. I know, I know. And that is why they are wanderers on the earth to this day.
Many errors, many failures but not the one sin. I am among them, among their battling bodies in a medley, the joust of life. You can do me a favour, Mr Dedalus, with some of your literary friends. Ask me, sir, Comyn said.
Many errors, many failures but not the one sin. With envy he watched their faces: Edith, Ethel, Gerty, Lily. Temple, two lunches. You’ll find them very handy.
This is for shillings. Crumbs adhered to the tissue of his lips. On the spindle side.
—What do you mean? Mr Deasy asked.
Excuse me, he said over his shoulder, the dictates of common sense. And it can be cured. Of him that walked the waves.
—What is the matter? What is it now?
Day!.. Lal the ral the ra. Stephen’s embarrassed hand moved over the shells heaped in the cold stone mortar: whelks and money cowries and leopard shells: and this, whorled as an emir’s turban, and this, the scallop of saint James. Looking up again he set them free.
They offer to come over here. Do you know that? No. I am among them, among their battling bodies in a medley, the joust of life. I am trying to work up influence with the department. She was no more: the trembling skeleton of a twig burnt in the fire, an odour of rosewood and wetted ashes. Aristotle’s phrase formed itself within the gabbled verses and floated out into the studious silence of the library of Saint Genevieve where he had read, sheltered from the sin of Paris, night by night. As sure as we are standing here the jew merchants are already at their work of destruction.
—What? Mr Deasy asked.
The lions couchant on the pillars as he passed out through the gate: toothless terrors. Their full slow eyes belied the words, the gestures eager and unoffending, but knew the rancours massed about them and knew their zeal was vain. Do you know that? No. What is that?
Too far for me to lay a hand there once or lightly. On the sideboard the tray of Stuart coins, base treasure of a bog: and ever shall be. Fed and feeding brains about me: under glowlamps, impaled, with faintly beating feelers: and in my mind’s darkness a sloth of the underworld, reluctant, shy of brightness, shifting her dragon scaly folds. The words troubled their gaze.
It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a coin of the tribute. I am a struggler now at the end of my days. Gabble of geese. A poor soul gone to heaven: and on a heath beneath winking stars a fox, red reek of rapine in his fur, with merciless bright eyes scraped in the earth, listened, scraped up the earth, listened, scraped and scraped.
If youth but knew. I hear the ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry, and time one livid final flame. But one day you must feel it. What if that nightmare gave you a back kick?
I have a letter here for the press. They were sorted in teams and Mr Deasy came away stepping over wisps of grass with gaitered feet. Beneath were sloping figures and at the foot a crooked signature with blind loops and a blot.
—History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.
Gabble of geese. To Caesar what is Caesar’s, to God what is God’s. Yet someone had loved him, borne him in her arms and in her heart. He leaned back and went on again, having just remembered. From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his officers, leaned upon his spear. Crumbs adhered to the tissue of his lips. You have two copies there.
—Alas, Stephen said.
It is cured. To Caesar what is Caesar’s, to God what is God’s. Mine is far and his secret as our eyes.
—You, Cochrane, what city sent for him?
A poet, yes, but an Englishman too. It is cured. Pardoned a classical allusion. All human history moves towards one great goal, the manifestation of God.
By a woman who was no better than she should be. Our cattle trade. That’s not English.
—Can you do them yourself? Stephen asked.
Sargent peered askance through his slanted glasses. On the spindle side. Mine is far and his secret as our eyes. He recited jerks of verse with odd glances at the text:
Emperor’s horses at Mürzsteg, lower Austria. His underjaw fell sideways open uncertainly. Aristotle’s phrase formed itself within the gabbled verses and floated out into the studious silence of the library of Saint Genevieve where he had read, sheltered from the sin of Paris, night by night. Well?
For a woman who was no better than she should be, Helen, the runaway wife of Menelaus, ten years the Greeks made war on Troy. Rinderpest. Crumbs adhered to the tissue of his lips. Mr Deasy laughed with rich delight, putting back his savingsbox.
Ten to one the field. I asked him to lay my letter before the meeting. intrigues by..
—Yes, sir, Stephen said, turning back at the gate.
Yet someone had loved him, borne him in her arms and in her heart. Two topboots jog dangling on to Dublin. Stephen’s embarrassed hand moved over the shells heaped in the cold stone mortar: whelks and money cowries and leopard shells: and this, whorled as an emir’s turban, and this, the scallop of saint James.
—Yes, sir.
Russell, one guinea, Cousins, ten shillings, Bob Reynolds, half a guinea, Koehler, three guineas, Mrs MacKernan, five weeks’ board. A phrase, then, of impatience, thud of Blake’s wings of excess. She had loved his weak watery blood drained from her own. You see if you can get it into your two papers. Wherever they gather they eat up the nation’s vital strength. In every sense of the word take the bull by the horns. From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his officers, leaned upon his spear. Dictates of common sense.
—And the story, sir?
A poet, yes, but an Englishman too. Rinderpest. Percentage of salted horses. Good man, good man.
Yes. A hoard heaped by the roadside: plundered and passing on. Give hands, traverse, bow to partner: so: imps of fancy of the Moors. Liverpool ring which jockeyed the Galway harbour scheme.
—You, Cochrane, what city sent for him?
Elfin riders sat them, watchful of a sign. Not theirs: these clothes, this speech, these gestures. A long look from dark eyes, a riddling sentence to be woven and woven on the church’s looms. What’s left us then?
Day!.. Many errors, many failures but not the one sin. He made money. What was the end of Pyrrhus?
Rinderpest. The black north and true blue bible. Yes. Thanks, Sargent answered.
You will see at the next outbreak they will put an embargo on Irish cattle. You have two copies there. I am among them, among their battling bodies in a medley, the joust of life. What is that?
In all the highest places: her finance, her press. With envy he watched their faces: Edith, Ethel, Gerty, Lily. Two in the back bench whispered. On his cheek, dull and bloodless, a soft stain of ink lay, dateshaped, recent and damp as a snail’s bed.
By his elbow a delicate Siamese conned a handbook of strategy. Crumbs adhered to the tissue of his lips. You were not born to be a teacher, I think. He dried the page with a sheet of thin blottingpaper and carried his copybook back to his bench.
But I am descended from sir John Blackwood who voted for the union. He curled them between his palms at whiles and swallowed them softly. But I am descended from sir John Blackwood who voted for the union. Time has branded them and fettered they are lodged in the room of the infinite possibilities they have ousted. Gabble of geese. You see if you can get it into your two papers.
—A riddle, sir? Ask me, sir.
And they are the signs of a nation’s decay. Liverpool ring which jockeyed the Galway harbour scheme. England is in the hands of the jews. Good man, good man.
Why had they chosen all that part? Not wholly for the smooth caress. Mirthless high malicious laughter. European conflagration. Do you know what is the pride of the English? Do you know what is the proudest word you will ever hear from an Englishman’s mouth?
This is for shillings. England is in the hands of the jews. A woman brought sin into the world.
—There was a battle, sir.
She had saved him from being trampled underfoot and had gone, scarcely having been. If youth but knew. Stephen’s embarrassed hand moved over the shells heaped in the cold stone mortar: whelks and money cowries and leopard shells: and this, whorled as an emir’s turban, and this, the scallop of saint James. She had loved his weak watery blood drained from her own. Quickly they were gone and from the lumberroom came the rattle of sticks and clamour of their boots and tongues.
Yet someone had loved him, borne him in her arms and in her heart. Welloff people, proud that their eldest son was in the navy. His tangled hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness and through his misty glasses weak eyes looked up pleading. In the corridor his name was heard, called from the playfield.
The lodge of Diamond in Armagh the splendid behung with corpses of papishes. To Caesar what is Caesar’s, to God what is God’s. But I am descended from sir John Blackwood who voted for the union.
—What, sir?
Can you feel that? I owe nothing. I am among them, among their battling bodies in a medley, the joust of life. Time shocked rebounds, shock by shock. Kingstown pier, sir.
I asked him to lay my letter before the meeting. From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his officers, leaned upon his spear. A long look from dark eyes, a riddling sentence to be woven and woven on the church’s looms. Stephen stood up.
Time has branded them and fettered they are lodged in the room of the infinite possibilities they have ousted. By a woman who was no better than she should be. Time surely would scatter all.
My father gave me seeds to sow.
But I am descended from sir John Blackwood who voted for the union. Day!.. Tranquil brightness.
—Thank you, sir, Stephen said, gathering the money together with shy haste and putting it all in a pocket of his trousers.
Our cattle trade. They swarmed loud, uncouth about the temple, their heads thickplotting under maladroit silk hats. Any general to any officers. Well? I can break them in this instant if I will.
I asked him to lay my letter before the meeting. Grain supplies through the narrow waters of the channel. Not theirs: these clothes, this speech, these gestures. Good man, good man.
A thing out in the water. Framed around the walls images of vanished horses stood in homage, their meek heads poised in air: lord Hastings’ Repulse, the duke of Westminster’s Shotover, the duke of Beaufort’s Ceylon, prix de Paris, 1866. I have a letter here for the press. On the spindle side.
—Hockey!
You were awfully holy, weren’t you? You prayed to the Blessed Virgin that you might not have a red nose. He coasted them, walking warily. Under its leaf he watched through peacocktwittering lashes the southing sun. Fumbally’s lane that night: the tanyard smells.
Famine, plague and slaughters. Moi, je suis socialiste. About us gobblers fork spiced beans down their gullets. Womb of sin.
Not hurt? O, that’s all right. Call away let him: thy quarrons dainty is. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. Touch, touch me.
Raw facebones under his peep of day boy’s hat. Cleanchested. Lord, they are weary; and, whispered to, they sigh. What has she in the bag? A misbirth with a trailing navelcord, hushed in ruddy wool. With woman steps she followed: the ruffian and his strolling mort. Broken hoops on the shore; at the land a maze of dark cunning nets; farther away chalkscrawled backdoors and on the higher beach a dryingline with two crucified shirts. You told the Clongowes gentry you had an uncle a judge and an uncle a general in the army. Spurned and undespairing. Am I not going there? Seems not. Soft eyes. Spurned and undespairing. As I am. If I were suddenly naked here as I sit? I am not. Day by day: night by night: lifted, flooded and let fall. Kinch here. Got up as a young bride, man, veil, orangeblossoms, drove out the road to Malahide. Tap with it: they do. I would want to. How? By knocking his sconce against them, sure. Before him the gunwale of a boat, sunk in sand. Bits all khrrrrklak in place clack back. Here. Can’t see! Who’s behind me? Out quickly, quickly! Do you see the tide flowing quickly in on all sides, sheeting the lows of sand quickly, shellcocoacoloured? If I had land under my feet. A bogoak frame over his bald head: Wilde’s Requiescat. My father’s a bird, he lapped the sweet lait chaud with pink young tongue, plump bunny’s face. Among gumheavy serpentplants, milkoozing fruits, where on the tawny waters leaves lie wide. Un coche ensablé Louis Veuillot called Gautier’s prose. He lifted his feet up from the suck and turned back by the mole of boulders. A sentinel: isle of dreadful thirst. Sit tight. Faut pas le dire à mon père.
Sounds solid: made by the mallet of Los Demiurgos. Goes like this. She trudges, schlepps, trains, drags, trascines her load. They are coming, waves. A school of turlehide whales stranded in hot noon, spouting, hobbling in the shallows. Tap with it: they do. I have my stick. In cups of rocks it slops: flop, slop, slap: bounded in barrels. Waters: bitter death: lost.
Talk about apple dumplings, piuttosto. You bowed to yourself in the mirror, stepping forward to applause earnestly, striking face. His human eyes scream to me out of horror of his death. Lent it to his friend.
Belluomo rises from the bed of his wife’s lover’s wife, the kerchiefed housewife is astir, a saucer of acetic acid in her hand. Just you give it a fair trial. He threw it. And no more turn aside and brood.
In cups of rocks it slops: flop, slop, slap: bounded in barrels. Prix de Paris: beware of imitations. A lex eterna stays about Him. The froeken, bonne à tout faire, who rubs male nakedness in the bath at Upsala. Dog of my enemy. Under its leaf he watched through peacocktwittering lashes the southing sun.
Won’t you come to Sandymount,
Madeline the mare?
I am almosting it. All days make their end. The new air greeted him, harping in wild nerves, wind of wild air of seeds of brightness. How? By knocking his sconce against them, sure. He saved men from drowning and you shake at a cur’s yelping. Famine, plague and slaughters. The grandest number, Stephen, in the whole opera. Bath a most private thing. It flows purling, widely flowing, floating foampool, flower unfurling.
From farther away, walking shoreward across from the crested tide, figures, two. Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. No, sir. Let Stephen in.
The grandest number, Stephen, in the whole opera. Making his day’s stations, the dingy printingcase, his three taverns, the Montmartre lair he sleeps short night in, rue de la Goutte-d’Or, damascened with flyblown faces of the gone. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. And these, the stoneheaps of dead builders, a warren of weasel rats. My cockle hat and staff and hismy sandal shoon. Where is she?
I shall wait. A shut door of a silent tower, entombing their blind bodies, the panthersahib and his pointer. He turned, bounded back, came nearer, trotted on twinkling shanks. Et vidit Deus. Peachy cheeks, a zebra skirt, frisky as a young thing’s. Then from the starving cagework city a horde of jerkined dwarfs, my people, with flayers’ knives, running, scaling, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. Go easy. Paper. It flows purling, widely flowing, floating foampool, flower unfurling.
No. On a field tenney a buck, trippant, proper, unattired. Of all the glad new year, mother, the rum tum tiddledy tum. So in the moon’s midwatches I pace the path above the rocks, in sable silvered, hearing Elsinore’s tempting flood.
Kinch here. Dan Occam thought of that, invincible doctor. You have some. Lui, c’est moi. I was not afraid. The Bruce’s brother, Thomas Fitzgerald, silken knight, Perkin Warbeck, York’s false scion, in breeches of silk of whiterose ivory, wonder of a day, and Lambert Simnel, with a tail of nans and sutlers, a scullion crowned. I could not save her. Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? Crush, crack, crick, crick. He now will leave me. A misty English morning the imp hypostasis tickled his brain. Who to clear it? He has the key. Un demi sétier! A jet of coffee steam from the burnished caldron. And after? The Ship, half twelve. And Monsieur Drumont, gentleman journalist. The drone of his misleading whistle brings Walter back.
Houyhnhnm, horsenostrilled. Through the barbacans the shafts of light are moving ever, slowly ever as my feet are sinking, creeping duskward over the dial floor. Fermé. What about what? What else were they invented for?
A school of turlehide whales stranded in hot noon, spouting, hobbling in the shallows. You were awfully holy, weren’t you? You prayed to the Blessed Virgin that you might not have a red nose. I could not save her.
—Bathing Crissie, sir.
By the way next when is it Tuesday will be the longest day. I am lonely here. Behind her lord, his helpmate, bing awast to Romeville. Like me, like Algy, coming down to our mighty mother. Their blood is in me, their lusts my waves. Must get. House of.. Ay, very like a whale. Where is she?
Tap with it: they do. To no end gathered; vainly then released, forthflowing, wending back: loom of the moon. Behind her lord, his helpmate, bing awast to Romeville. We enjoyed ourselves immensely.
How the head centre got away, authentic version. By the way go easy with that money like a good young imbecile. I was a strapping young gossoon at that time, I tell you. You will see who.
Paper. He coasted them, walking warily. The foot that beat the ground in tripudium, foot I dislove. Walter squints vainly for a chair.
Drumont, famous journalist, Drumont, know what he called queen Victoria? Old hag with the yellow teeth. Loveless, landless, wifeless. At one, he said. Pinned up, I bet.
Spoils slung at her back. Here. The cords of all link back, strandentwining cable of all flesh.
In the darkmans clip and kiss.
Looking for something lost in a past life. And after? The Ship, half twelve. No. Mouth to her kiss. Belluomo rises from the bed of his wife’s lover’s wife, the kerchiefed housewife is astir, a saucer of acetic acid in her hand. Put me on to Edenville. Shells. What is that word known to all men? I am quiet here alone. Moi, je suis socialiste. On a field tenney a buck, trippant, proper, unattired. Wrist through the braided jesse of her sunshade. She trudges, schlepps, trains, drags, trascines her load. The dog yelped running to them, reared up and pawed them, dropping on all fours, again reared up at them with mute bearish fawning. Can’t see! Who’s behind me? Out quickly, quickly! Do you see the tide flowing quickly in on all sides, sheeting the lows of sand quickly, shellcocoacoloured? If I had land under my feet. Hollandais? Non fromage. Hurray for the Goddamned idiot! Hray! No-one saw: tell no-one. Paper. Not this Monsieur, I said. Flat I see, then think distance, near, far, flat I see, east, back. I know the voice. Ought I go to a dentist, I wonder, with that money? That one. Talk that to someone else, Stevie: a pickmeup. I wouldn’t let my brother, not even my own brother, most lascivious thing. In the darkness of the dome they wait, their pushedback chairs, my obelisk valise, around a board of abandoned platters. To yoke me as his yokefellow, our crimes our common cause. Have you read his F? O yes, but I prefer Q. Is that then the divine substance wherein Father and Son are consubstantial? Where is poor dear Arius to try conclusions? Warring his life long upon the contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality. Illstarred heresiarch! In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last: euthanasia. I would want to. He laps.
Kinch here. That was the rule, said. In Rodot’s Yvonne and Madeleine newmake their tumbled beauties, shattering with gold teeth chaussons of pastry, their mouths yellowed with the pus of flan bréton. Did you see anything of your artist brother Stephen lately? No? Sure he’s not down in Strasburg terrace with his aunt Sally? Couldn’t he fly a bit higher than that, eh? And and and and tell us, Stephen, how is uncle Si? O, weeping God, the things I married into! De boys up in de hayloft. Dringadring! And in a ladychapel another taking housel all to his own cheek. Unfallen Adam rode and not rutted. He coasted them, walking warily. Where are your wits?
Green eyes, I see you. Unfallen Adam rode and not rutted. Making his day’s stations, the dingy printingcase, his three taverns, the Montmartre lair he sleeps short night in, rue de la Goutte-d’Or, damascened with flyblown faces of the gone. Faut pas le dire à mon père.
No. Dringdring! And two streets off another locking it into a pyx. In sleep the wet sign calls her hour, bids her rise.
—Uncle Richie, really...
Then from the starving cagework city a horde of jerkined dwarfs, my people, with flayers’ knives, running, scaling, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. About her windraw face hair trailed. God, we simply must dress the character. Easy now.
Smiled: creamfruit smell. He lifted his feet up from the suck and turned back by the mole of boulders. If I were suddenly naked here as I sit? I am not. A bogoak frame over his bald head: Wilde’s Requiescat. Endless, would it be mine, form of my form? Who watches me here? Who ever anywhere will read these written words? Signs on a white field. His human eyes scream to me out of horror of his death. So in the moon’s midwatches I pace the path above the rocks, in sable silvered, hearing Elsinore’s tempting flood.
Before him the gunwale of a boat, sunk in sand. Terribilia meditans. Looking for something lost in a past life. On the night of the seventeenth of February 1904 the prisoner was seen by two witnesses. Sad too. The oval equine faces, Temple, Buck Mulligan, Foxy Campbell, Lanternjaws. Hat, tie, overcoat, nose. Evening will find itself.
Pull. Sir Lout’s toys. A shut door of a silent tower, entombing their blind bodies, the panthersahib and his pointer. The dog yelped running to them, reared up and pawed them, dropping on all fours, again reared up at them with mute bearish fawning. I throw this ended shadow from me, manshape ineluctable, call it back. A catalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. I want puce gloves. Language no whit worse than his. Bet she wears those curse of God stays suspenders and yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool. Street of harlots. Better buy one.
He stopped, sniffed, stalked round it, brother, nosing closer, went round it, sniffling rapidly like a dog all over the dead dog’s bedraggled fell. Take all, keep all. To no end gathered; vainly then released, forthflowing, wending back: loom of the moon. Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. Five, six: the nacheinander. Comment? Rich booty you brought back; Le Tutu, five tattered numbers of Pantalon Blanc et Culotte Rouge; a blue French telegram, curiosity to show:
Sit tight. A catalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. Where? To evening lands. Where are your wits?
I would try. I can watch it flow past from here. About us gobblers fork spiced beans down their gullets.
—Il croit?
His human eyes scream to me out of horror of his death. For the old hag with the yellow teeth. Kevin Egan rolls gunpowder cigarettes through fingers smeared with printer’s ink, sipping his green fairy as Patrice his white. Peachy cheeks, a zebra skirt, frisky as a young thing’s. He turned, bounded back, came nearer, trotted on twinkling shanks. I will. No-one about. I’m the bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well boulders, bones for my steppingstones. Monkwords, marybeads jabber on their girdles: roguewords, tough nuggets patter in their pockets.
Suddenly he made off like a bounding hare, ears flung back, chasing the shadow of a lowskimming gull. The two maries. They clasped and sundered, did the coupler’s will. Go easy. And these, the stoneheaps of dead builders, a warren of weasel rats. Haroun al Raschid. I would want to. He stared at them proudly, piled stone mammoth skulls. These heavy sands are language tide and wind have silted here. He counted the creases of rucked leather wherein another’s foot had nested warm. They are waiting for him now. Kinch here. Dane vikings, torcs of tomahawks aglitter on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold. Under its leaf he watched through peacocktwittering lashes the southing sun. Weary too in sight of lovers, lascivious men, a naked woman shining in her courts, she draws a toil of waters.
He is running back to them. Before him the gunwale of a boat, sunk in sand. Found drowned. Will you be as gods? Gaze in your omphalos. Of lost leaders, the betrayed, wild escapes. Dane vikings, torcs of tomahawks aglitter on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold.
—Mother dying come home father.
The two maries. Did, faith. No, sir. Toothless Kinch, the superman. You find my words dark. Open hallway. Dringdring! Down, up, forward, back. On the night of the seventeenth of February 1904 the prisoner was seen by two witnesses. Pico della Mirandola like. Our souls, shamewounded by our sins, cling to us yet more, a woman to her lover clinging, the more the more.
Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? Crush, crack, crick, crick. He saved men from drowning and you shake at a cur’s yelping. A tide westering, moondrawn, in her wake.
In the darkmans clip and kiss.
Isle of saints. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. The melon he had he held against my face. Jesus wept: and no wonder, by Christ!
Try it. My ashplant will float away. The drunken little costdrawer and his brother, the cornet player. Pinned up, I bet.
Come. I hear. He slunk back in a curve. So in the moon’s midwatches I pace the path above the rocks, in sable silvered, hearing Elsinore’s tempting flood.
House of.. They waded a little way in the water and, stooping, soused their bags and, lifting them again, waded out. Me sits there with his augur’s rod of ash, in borrowed sandals, by day beside a livid sea, unbeheld, in violet night walking beneath a reign of uncouth stars. With woman steps she followed: the ruffian and his strolling mort. Can’t see! Who’s behind me? Out quickly, quickly! Do you see the tide flowing quickly in on all sides, sheeting the lows of sand quickly, shellcocoacoloured? If I had land under my feet. I was not afraid. Five, six: the nacheinander. From farther away, walking shoreward across from the crested tide, figures, two. Dead breaths I living breathe, tread dead dust, devour a urinous offal from all dead. I want his life still to be his, mine to be mine. Goes like this. Evening will find itself.
Pull. Old Kilkenny: saint Canice, Strongbow’s castle on the Nore. Loose tobaccoshreds catch fire: a flame and acrid smoke light our corner. Where is she?
Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. The banknotes, blast them. Soft soft soft hand.
O, O the boys of
Kilkenny...
The oval equine faces, Temple, Buck Mulligan, Foxy Campbell, Lanternjaws. Et erant valde bona. The grandest number, Stephen, in the whole opera. Mon fils, soldier of France. Easy now.
The cold domed room of the tower waits. Look clock. Yes, but W is wonderful. For the old hag with the yellow teeth. Limits of the diaphane. When night hides her body’s flaws calling under her brown shawl from an archway where dogs have mired. I hear. It lowers. Limit of the diaphane in. I know the voice. He saved men from drowning and you shake at a cur’s yelping. Under its leaf he watched through peacocktwittering lashes the southing sun. And no more turn aside and brood.
Open your eyes. Well: slainte! Around the slabbed tables the tangle of wined breaths and grumbling gorges. And these, the stoneheaps of dead builders, a warren of weasel rats. Moi, je suis socialiste. These heavy sands are language tide and wind have silted here. No, sir. The dog yelped running to them, reared up and pawed them, dropping on all fours, again reared up at them with mute bearish fawning. No, I didn’t. A misty English morning the imp hypostasis tickled his brain. Talk about apple dumplings, piuttosto. Shells. That is why mystic monks. Somewhere to someone in your flutiest voice. Before him the gunwale of a boat, sunk in sand. Let Stephen in.
Soft soft soft hand. He slunk back in a curve. I thirst. That’s why she won’t.
The banknotes, blast them. Et erant valde bona. Eating your groatsworth of mou en civet, fleshpots of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen. O, that’s all only all right.
Pull. God, we simply must dress the character. Et vidit Deus. Full fathom five thy father lies. If I were suddenly naked here as I sit? I am not. You were a student, weren’t you? Of what in the other devil’s name? Paysayenn. I hear. This. Moi faire, she said, Tous les messieurs.
—We thought you were someone else.
The cords of all link back, strandentwining cable of all flesh. Beauty is not there. You were a student, weren’t you? Of what in the other devil’s name? Paysayenn. Dominie Deasy kens them a’.
Loose tobaccoshreds catch fire: a flame and acrid smoke light our corner. If I were suddenly naked here as I sit? I am not. To yoke me as his yokefellow, our crimes our common cause. When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels that one is at one with one who once...
Vieille ogresse with the dents jaunes. Peachy cheeks, a zebra skirt, frisky as a young thing’s. I was a strapping young gossoon at that time, I tell you. Moist pith of farls of bread, the froggreen wormwood, her matin incense, court the air. From farther away, walking shoreward across from the crested tide, figures, two. Allbright he falls, proud lightning of the intellect, Lucifer, dico, qui nescit occasum. The drone of his misleading whistle brings Walter back.
Lettuce. Hard as nails at a bargain, old Tweedy. as position. Of course if they ran a tramline along the North Circular from the cattlemarket to the quays value would go up like a shot.
Travel round in front of the sun, steal a day’s march on him. Tea before you put milk in. He drank a draught of cooler tea to wash down his meal. Do you know what I’m going to tell you? What’s that, Mr O’Rourke? Do you know what? The Russians, they’d only be an eight o’clock breakfast for the Japanese.
What Arthur Griffith said about the headpiece over the Freeman leader: a homerule sun rising up in the northwest from the laneway behind the bank of Ireland. Putting pieces of folded brown paper in the letterbox for her. Would she buy it too, calling the items from a slip in her hand? Chapped: washingsoda. Ham and eggs, no. Chap in the paybox there got away James Stephens, they say. August bank holiday, only two and six return. It’s Greek: from the Greek. Picking up the letters. He let the bloodsmeared paper fall to her and dropped the kidney amid the sizzling butter sauce. The night Milly brought it into the parlour. Then he girded up his trousers, braced and buttoned himself. Good house, however: just the end of the city traffic. He sat down, cut and buttered a slice of the loaf. There he is, sure enough, my bold Larry, leaning against the sugarbin in his shirtsleeves watching the aproned curate swab up with mop and bucket. He turned from the tray, lifted the kettle off the hob and set it sideways on the fire. On the Erin’s King that day round the Kish. Was washing at her ear with her back to the fire too.
Brown brillantined hair over his collar. Inishark. Stamps: stickyback pictures. Entering the bedroom he halfclosed his eyes and walked through warm yellow twilight towards her tousled head.
Three pounds three. Wonder is poor Citron still in Saint Kevin’s parade. Want to manure the whole place over, scabby soil. Still an idea behind it.
Then it fetched up three coins from his trousers’ pocket and laid them on the rubber prickles. Say they won’t eat pork. There is to be a concert in the Greville Arms on Saturday. Got a short knock. Your fond daughter.
Say they won’t eat pork. Inishboffin. Sheet kindly lent. I’m parched.
He liked to read at stool. Must be without a flaw, he said. Silly season. Three and six I gave for the frame. Sheet kindly lent. Always have fresh greens then. Creaky wardrobe. He tossed it off the pan on to a plate and let the scanty brown gravy trickle over it.
Wonder is poor Citron still in Saint Kevin’s parade. Wonder is poor Citron still in Saint Kevin’s parade. Tara street. What was that about some young student and a picnic? He creased out the letter at his side, reading it slowly as he chewed, sopping another die of bread in the gravy and raising it to his mouth.
Simon Dedalus takes him off to a tee with his eyes screwed up. Brown brillantined hair over his collar. Mine. Then it fetched up three coins from his trousers’ pocket and laid them on the rubber prickles. Silly Milly’s birthday gift. Folding the page into his pocket he turned into Eccles street, hurrying homeward. Can pay ten down and the balance in yearly instalments. No sound. Night sky, moon, violet, colour of Molly’s new garters. That we live after death. No good eggs with this drouth. Wanted a dog to pass the time. Families of them. Folding the page into his pocket he turned into Eccles street, hurrying homeward.
All dimpled cheeks and curls,
Your head it simply swirls.
Make a picnic of it. A coat of liver of sulphur. Stamps: stickyback pictures. Yes, I am here now. Funny I don’t remember that. Useless to move now. One tabloid of cascara sagrada. Bleibtreustrasse 34, Berlin, W. Funny I don’t remember that. Scratch my head. He held the page from him: interesting: read it nearer, the title, the blurred cropping cattle, the page rustling. Ashes too. General thirst. Which? Time I used to try jotting down on my cuff what she said dressing. That means the transmigration of souls.
They understand what we say better than we understand them. Virginia creepers. Silly season. What does that mean?
Tara street. Dreadful old case. Scarlet runners. The shiny links, packed with forcemeat, fed his gaze and he breathed in tranquilly the lukewarm breath of cooked spicy pigs’ blood.
Best of all though are the cattle, especially when they are fed on those oilcakes. Through the open doorway the bar squirted out whiffs of ginger, teadust, biscuitmush. Not in the bed. O’Brien.
Fifteen multiplied by. Can become ideal winter sanatorium. Or a lilt. Another time.
White slip of paper. The maid was in the garden. I rose from the ranks, sir, and I’m proud of it. I rose from the ranks, sir, and I’m proud of it. They like them sizeable. Then think of the competition. In the trousers I left off. He glanced back through what he had read and, while feeling his water flow quietly, he envied kindly Mr Beaufoy who had written it and received payment of three pounds, thirteen and six.
Jolly old woman. Chap you know just to salute bit of a bore. Hand in hand. Doyle, she said, and Love’s Old Sweet Song.
Wanted a dog to pass the time. Smart. No sound. Slieve Bloom.
Listen. All the way from Gibraltar. He stood up, undoing the waistband of his trousers. She doubled a slice of bread into her mouth, asking:
He folded it under his armpit, went to the door and opened it. And one shilling threepence change. Not there. Dead: an old woman’s: the grey sunken cunt of the world.
He sopped other dies of bread in the gravy and ate piece after piece of kidney. Brats’ clamour. Listen. He glanced back through what he had read and, while feeling his water flow quietly, he envied kindly Mr Beaufoy who had written it and received payment of three pounds, thirteen and six.
Agendath Netaim: planters’ company. Well, God is good, sir. Still gardens have their drawbacks. I’m parched.
Ahbeesee defeegee kelomen opeecue rustyouvee doubleyou. Crusted toenails too. He stooped and gathered them. Dignam’s soul...
Mob gaping. Course they do. Ham and eggs, no. Wait before a door sometime it will open. Windows open. Dark caves of carpet shops, big man, Turko the terrible, seated crosslegged, smoking a coiled pipe. At their joggerfry. Fried with butter, a shake of pepper. Drago’s shopbell ringing. There again: the overtone following through the air. At Plevna that was. He held the page from him: interesting: read it nearer, the title, the blurred cropping cattle, the page rustling. That we all lived before on the earth thousands of years ago or some other planet. Cold oils slid along his veins, chilling his blood: age crusting him with a salt cloak. Still he had brains enough to make that corner in stamps. Brown brillantined hair over his collar. Three pounds, thirteen and six.
General thirst. Payment at the rate of one guinea a column has been made to the writer. Fried with butter, a shake of pepper. Her slim legs running up the staircase. It lay there now. Why are their tongues so rough? To lap better, all porous holes. She turned over sleepily that time. Oldfashioned way he used to bow Molly off the platform. Destiny. Given away with the Easter number of Photo Bits: Splendid masterpiece in art colours. Not there. Neat certainly. Every year you get a sending of the crop. Hand in hand. Want to manure the whole place over, scabby soil. He smiled, pleasing himself. Inishark. Thunder in the air. There’s nothing smutty in it. Brown brillantined hair over his collar. Brimstone they called it raining down: the cities of the plain: Sodom, Gomorrah, Edom. A mother watches me from her doorway. Hand in hand. General thirst. Must get it. Three and six I gave for the frame. Forgotten any little Spanish she knew.
—Mn.
Molly in Citron’s basketchair. Poetical idea: pink, then golden, then grey, then black. He prolonged his pleased smile. Too much trouble to fag up the stairs to the landing.
Crusted toenails too. Must be without a flaw, he said. Matcham often thinks of the masterstroke by which he won the laughing witch who now. What was that about some young student and a picnic? He creased out the letter at his side, reading it slowly as he chewed, sopping another die of bread in the gravy and raising it to his mouth.
There again: the overtone following through the air. Fading gold sky. He felt the flowing qualm spread over him.
—Who are the letters for?
Turbaned faces going by. Excuse bad writing. Through the open doorway the bar squirted out whiffs of ginger, teadust, biscuitmush. They tolled the hour: loud dark iron.
Fried with butter, a shake of pepper. She didn’t like her plate full. She didn’t want anything. Her pale blue scarf loose in the wind with her hair.
The oldest people. I got mummy’s lovely box of creams and am writing. I rose from the ranks, sir, and I’m proud of it. Life might be so. What had Gretta Conroy on? 9.23. Jolly old woman. Wonder have I time for a bath this morning.
All dimpled cheeks and curls,
Your head it simply swirls.
Done to a turn. The shadows of the mosques among the pillars: priest with a scroll rolled up. Daresay lots of officers are in the swim too. Nobody.
By prodding a prong of the fork under the kidney he detached it and turned it turtle on its back. Ashes too. Might take a trip down there. Dead: an old woman’s: the grey sunken cunt of the world.
He passed Saint Joseph’s National school. He shore away the burnt flesh and flung it to the cat. Cruel. Inishturk. She said it would look nice over the bed. We are going to lough Owel on Monday with a few friends to make a scrap picnic. Listen. Or hanging up on the floor. He peeped quickly inside the leather headband. Good. Better a pork kidney at Dlugacz’s. Yes. Cute old codger. It suits me splendid. Simon Dedalus takes him off to a tee with his eyes screwed up. Her slim legs running up the staircase. Wanted a dog to pass the time. Chap you know just to salute bit of a bore. Brown brillantined hair over his collar. Strong pair of arms. Biting her nether lip, hooking the placket of her skirt. Six weeks off, however. Want to manure the whole place over, scabby soil. All dead names. Why are their tongues so rough? To lap better, all porous holes. Biting her nether lip, hooking the placket of her skirt. Not there. What they called nymphs, for example.
A bent hag crossed from Cassidy’s, clutching a naggin bottle by the neck. Your name entered for life as owner in the book of the union. Good. M.
Chap in the paybox there got away James Stephens, they say. Keep it up for ever never grow a day older technically. Her first birthday away from home. Reincarnation: that’s the word.
Neat certainly. That we all lived before on the earth thousands of years ago or some other planet. A young white heifer. What time is the funeral? Better find out in the paper.
Reclaim the whole place. Quiet long days: pruning, ripening. Quiet long days: pruning, ripening. Of course if they ran a tramline along the North Circular from the cattlemarket to the quays value would go up like a shot.
Those mornings in the cattlemarket, the beasts lowing in their pens, branded sheep, flop and fall of dung, the breeders in hobnailed boots trudging through the litter, slapping a palm on a ripemeated hindquarter, there’s a prime one, unpeeled switches in their hands. Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry. Wonder what he does. Do you want another?
The cat went up in soft bounds. Brats’ clamour. He sat down, cut and buttered a slice of the loaf. Yes, yes.
Why is that? Valuation is only twentyeight. Only a little burnt. Dreadful old case. Turning into Dorset street he said freshly in greeting through the doorway:
Voglio e non vorrei. They like them sizeable. Its hump bumped as he took it up. The crooked skirt swinging, whack by whack by whack.
Might work a press pass. I got mummy’s lovely box of creams and am writing. Fierce Italian with carriagewhip. Mine. Crusted toenails too. Has the fidgets. Night hours then: black with daggers and eyemasks. Arbutus place: Pleasants street: pleasant old times. Always the same, year after year. The sweated legend in the crown of his hat told him mutely: Plasto’s high grade ha. Torn envelope. Dirty cleans. 9.15. Virginia creepers. Wanted a dog to pass the time. Poetical idea: pink, then golden, then grey, then black. I never saw such a stupid pussens as the pussens.
Want to manure the whole place over, scabby soil. Better remind her of the word: metempsychosis. Hallstand too full. No? Then, a twisted grey garter looped round a stocking: rumpled, shiny sole.
Well, meet him. Excuse bad writing. Excellent for shade, fuel and construction.
—Threepence, please.
Mr Coghlan took one of me and Mrs. Curious mice never squeal. Before sitting down he peered through a chink up at the nextdoor windows. Well, I am here now. Why are their tongues so rough? To lap better, all porous holes. A dead sea in a dead land, grey and old. Dirty cleans. A young white heifer. Reclaim the whole place. He held the page aslant patiently, bending his senses and his will, his soft subject gaze at rest. Be a warm day I fancy. Cruelty behind it all. Mine. Only a little burnt. Dislike dressing together. Wonder if I’ll meet him today. Wonder if I’ll meet him today. Those mornings in the cattlemarket, the beasts lowing in their pens, branded sheep, flop and fall of dung, the breeders in hobnailed boots trudging through the litter, slapping a palm on a ripemeated hindquarter, there’s a prime one, unpeeled switches in their hands. Hurry. It sat there, dull and squat, its spout stuck out. Would she buy it too, calling the items from a slip in her hand? Chapped: washingsoda. Coming all that way: Spain, Gibraltar, Mediterranean, the Levant. Pepper. What was that about some young student and a picnic? He creased out the letter at his side, reading it slowly as he chewed, sopping another die of bread in the gravy and raising it to his mouth.
Torn envelope. Agendath what is it? Now, my miss. Dark caves of carpet shops, big man, Turko the terrible, seated crosslegged, smoking a coiled pipe. Smart. Must have slid down. Smart. Yes. Anemic a little. He held the page from him: interesting: read it nearer, the title, the blurred cropping cattle, the page rustling. There is to be a concert in the Greville Arms on Saturday. Is that Boylan well off? He has money. Black conducts, reflects, (refracts is it?), the heat. Give my love to mummy and to yourself a big kiss and thanks. Coming all that way: Spain, Gibraltar, Mediterranean, the Levant. Give her too much meat she won’t mouse. Cruelty behind it all. Chap in the paybox there got away James Stephens, they say. Scarlet runners. Woods his name is. Life might be so. Why? They shine in the dark, perhaps, the tips. The monster Maffei desisted and flung his victim from him with an oath. The sun was nearing the steeple of George’s church. It did not move or touch him but it was something quick and neat. She didn’t like her plate full. Matcham often thinks of the masterstroke by which he won the laughing witch who now. Mob gaping. Poor Dignam!
Her head dancing. Save it they can’t. Best of all though are the cattle, especially when they are fed on those oilcakes.
—It must have fell down, she said.
Not in the bed. Hands stuck in his trousers’ pockets, jarvey off for the day, singing. Boys are they? Yes.
—Mrkrgnao! the cat said loudly.
Forgotten any little Spanish she knew. Must be Ruby pride of the on the floor naked. Why? I noticed he had a good rich smell off his breath dancing. The way her crooked skirt swings at each whack.
They fetched high prices too, Moisel told me. She rubbed her handglass briskly on her woollen vest against her full wagging bub. Plasters on a sore eye. Was washing at her ear with her back to the fire too.
Torn envelope. Useless: can’t move. Excuse bad writing. Your fond daughter.
No use humming then. Mob gaping. Useless: can’t move.
Those girls, those girls,
Those lovely seaside girls.
He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods’ roes. Hallstand too full. Still gardens have their drawbacks. Turning into Dorset street he said freshly in greeting through the doorway:
And Mastiansky with the old cither. Cold oils slid along his veins, chilling his blood: age crusting him with a salt cloak. Wants to go out. Sheet kindly lent. To purchase waste sandy tracts from Turkish government and plant with eucalyptus trees. On the Erin’s King that day round the Kish. Your name entered for life as owner in the book of the union. Makes you feel young. Row with her in the XL Café about the bracelet. Simon Dedalus takes him off to a tee with his eyes screwed up. A barren land, bare waste. Let her wait. He watched the dark eyeslits narrowing with greed till her eyes were green stones. Here. Can pay ten down and the balance in yearly instalments. Save it they can’t. Lot of babies she must have helped into the world. Why? They shine in the dark, perhaps, the tips. Save it they can’t.
—Now, my miss, he said.
Why is that? Valuation is only twentyeight. He held the page aslant patiently, bending his senses and his will, his soft subject gaze at rest. Her nature. Families of them. Leaving the door ajar, amid the stench of mouldy limewash and stale cobwebs he undid his braces. He peeped quickly inside the leather headband. Turning into Dorset street he said freshly in greeting through the doorway:
An example would be better. A mother watches me from her doorway. You pay eighty marks and they plant a dunam of land for you with olives, oranges, almonds or citrons. Her petticoat.
It bore the oldest, the first race. Afraid of the chookchooks. Begins and ends morally. No, wait: four. Slieve Bloom.
Illustration. Drink water scented with fennel, sherbet. Right. Do you know what I’m going to tell you? What’s that, Mr O’Rourke? Do you know what? The Russians, they’d only be an eight o’clock breakfast for the Japanese.
She does whack it, by George. Prime sausage. Ah yes! of course. They tolled the hour: loud dark iron.
Piano downstairs. A coat of liver of sulphur. Scarlet runners. He waited till she had laid the card aside and curled herself back slowly with a snug sigh.
Her first birthday away from home. To smell the gentle smoke of tea, fume of the pan, sizzling butter. We did great biz yesterday. Then he read the letter again: twice.
Folding the page into his pocket he turned into Eccles street, hurrying homeward. Dander along all day. Listen. Like foul flowerwater.
Reclaim the whole place. He scalded and rinsed out the teapot and put in four full spoons of tea, tilting the kettle then to let the water flow in. She does whack it, by George. She tendered a coin, smiling boldly, holding her thick wrist out.
Make a picnic of it. Bloom. The night Milly brought it into the parlour. The way her crooked skirt swings at each whack.
Woods his name is. Wonder have I time for a bath this morning. Excuse bad writing. She doubled a slice of bread into her mouth, asking:
He sighed down his nose: they never understand. No great hurry. Wife is oldish. He laid her card and letter on the twill bedspread near the curve of her knees.
No, wait: four. Print anything now. Daresay lots of officers are in the swim too. Prr.
Prime sausage. They fetched high prices too, Moisel told me. Quiet long days: pruning, ripening. Made him feel a bit peckish.
Tea before you put milk in. Useless to move now. Must be without a flaw, he said.
—Mrkrgnao! the cat said loudly.
At their joggerfry. The shadows of the mosques among the pillars: priest with a scroll rolled up. He drank a draught of cooler tea to wash down his meal. He held the page from him: interesting: read it nearer, the title, the blurred cropping cattle, the page rustling. She swallowed a draught of tea from her cup held by nothandle and, having wiped her fingertips smartly on the blanket, began to search the text with the hairpin till she reached the word.
The monster Maffei desisted and flung his victim from him with an oath. No, just right. She understands all she wants to. Make hay while the sun shines. Pert little piece she was.
Biting her nether lip, hooking the placket of her skirt. Useless: can’t move. 9.15. The crooked skirt swinging, whack by whack by whack.
Wonder is it true if you clip them they can’t mouse after. He stood by the nextdoor girl at the counter. She rubbed her handglass briskly on her woollen vest against her full wagging bub. M.
He watched the dark eyeslits narrowing with greed till her eyes were green stones. Virginia creepers. Useless to move now. Grey. Night hours then: black with daggers and eyemasks. Written by Mr Philip Beaufoy, Playgoers’ Club, London. Agendath what is it? Now, my miss. Destiny. He pulled the halldoor to after him very quietly, more, till the footleaf dropped gently over the threshold, a limp lid. Excuse bad writing. Wait before a door sometime it will open. Brown brillantined hair over his collar. All soil like that without dung. Must begin again those Sandow’s exercises.
—‘Tis all that.
Molly spitting them out. Be near her ample bedwarmed flesh. To purchase waste sandy tracts from Turkish government and plant with eucalyptus trees. Stamps: stickyback pictures. Far away now past. Looked shut. He scalded and rinsed out the teapot and put in four full spoons of tea, tilting the kettle then to let the water flow in. That was the first night. In the trousers I left off. He heard then a warm heavy sigh, softer, as she turned over and the loose brass quoits of the bedstead jingled. While the kettle is boiling. Ikey touch that: homerule sun rising up in the northwest.
Will happen, yes. Right. Coming out of her shell. Chap you know just to salute bit of a bore. Still gardens have their drawbacks. Not unlike her with her hair down: slimmer. Dead: an old woman’s: the grey sunken cunt of the world.
A wild piece of goods. She knew from the first poor little Rudy wouldn’t live. Hands stuck in his trousers’ pockets, jarvey off for the day, singing. I’m parched.
She rubbed her handglass briskly on her woollen vest against her full wagging bub. Somewhere in the east: early morning: set off at dawn. Destiny.
—Poldy!
He heard then a warm heavy sigh, softer, as she turned over and the loose brass quoits of the bedstead jingled. There’s nothing smutty in it. Jolly old woman. Ikey touch that: homerule sun rising up in the northwest.
Grey. Doing a double shuffle with the town travellers. Putting pieces of folded brown paper in the letterbox for her. General thirst. She might like something tasty. Will happen, yes. She knew from the first poor little Rudy wouldn’t live. Putting pieces of folded brown paper in the letterbox for her. Molly spitting them out. I am getting on swimming in the photo business now. Nobody.
Loam, what is this that is? The hens in the next garden: their droppings are very good top dressing. Pungent smoke shot up in an angry jet from a side of the pan. Might work a press pass. Funny I don’t remember that. Right. Agendath what is it? Now, my miss. Why are their tongues so rough? To lap better, all porous holes. Square it you with the boss and we’ll split the job, see?
Only a little burnt. Silverpowdered olivetrees. Be near her ample bedwarmed flesh.
—The kidney! he cried suddenly.
Nice to hold, cool waxen fruit, hold in the hand, lift it to the nostrils and smell the perfume. Break your neck and we’ll break our sides. A young white heifer.
—Who was the letter from? he asked.
Molly spitting them out. Then he girded up his trousers, braced and buttoned himself. August bank holiday, only two and six return. On earth as it is in heaven.
Only five she was then. Wife is oldish. Peering into it. Marion.
Brown scapulars in tatters, defending her both ways. Explain that: morning hours, noon, then evening coming on, then night hours. Four umbrellas, her raincloak. Then he cut away dies of bread, sopped one in the gravy and put it in his mouth. He smiled, pleasing himself. He withdrew his gaze after an instant. Then he read the letter again: twice.
All the way from Gibraltar. Lips kissed, kissing, kissed. Then he cut away dies of bread, sopped one in the gravy and put it in his mouth. Hope no ape comes knocking just as I’m.
Night hours then: black with daggers and eyemasks. Better remind her of the word: metempsychosis. He stood up, undoing the waistband of his trousers. That bee or bluebottle here Whitmonday.
There is to be a concert in the Greville Arms on Saturday. Better remind her of the word: metempsychosis. Wife is oldish.
—Poldy!
He prolonged his pleased smile. Useless to move now. Walk along a strand, strange land, come to a city gate, sentry there, old ranker too, old Tweedy’s big moustaches, leaning on a long kind of a spear. He sat down, cut and buttered a slice of the loaf. Sad thing about poor Dignam, Mr O’Rourke.
Lips kissed, kissing, kissed. Far away now past. Specially in these black clothes feel it more. Tell us in plain words.
Mrs Marion. Saucebox. Mouth dry. What matter?
The monster Maffei desisted and flung his victim from him with an oath. Wanted a dog to pass the time. Simon Dedalus takes him off to a tee with his eyes screwed up.
—O, there you are, Mr Bloom said, turning from the fire.
We are going to lough Owel on Monday with a few friends to make a scrap picnic. Just how she stalks over my writingtable. Must get it. Want pure fresh water. Excuse bad writing. August bank holiday, only two and six return. Tell him silly Milly sends my best respects. No.
Those mornings in the cattlemarket, the beasts lowing in their pens, branded sheep, flop and fall of dung, the breeders in hobnailed boots trudging through the litter, slapping a palm on a ripemeated hindquarter, there’s a prime one, unpeeled switches in their hands. Quiet long days: pruning, ripening. While the kettle is boiling. I must now close with fondest love.
Would she buy it too, calling the items from a slip in her hand? Chapped: washingsoda. Brown brillantined hair over his collar. They are lovely. Better be careful not to get these trousers dirty for the funeral. To smell the gentle smoke of tea, fume of the pan, sizzling butter. Still he knows his own business best. She tendered a coin, smiling boldly, holding her thick wrist out.
Lettuce. Thunder in the air. Might work a press pass. Can pay ten down and the balance in yearly instalments. Quiet long days: pruning, ripening. Bleibtreustrasse 34, Berlin, W. Silly Milly’s birthday gift. Bold hand. Keep it a bit. Ikey touch that: homerule sun rising up in the northwest.
What possessed me to buy this comb? 9.24. Dirty cleans. Leaving the door ajar, amid the stench of mouldy limewash and stale cobwebs he undid his braces. Did you leave anything on the fire?
Not there. Cold oils slid along his veins, chilling his blood: age crusting him with a salt cloak. Mullingar. Dearest Papli.
Brimstone they called it raining down: the cities of the plain: Sodom, Gomorrah, Edom. He watched the dark eyeslits narrowing with greed till her eyes were green stones. You pay eighty marks and they plant a dunam of land for you with olives, oranges, almonds or citrons.
—You don’t want anything for breakfast?
Lot of babies she must have helped into the world. Wonder if she pronounces that right: voglio. Somewhere in the east: early morning: set off at dawn. What was that about some young student and a picnic? He creased out the letter at his side, reading it slowly as he chewed, sopping another die of bread in the gravy and raising it to his mouth.
I got mummy’s lovely box of creams and am writing. She stood outside the shop in sunlight and sauntered lazily to the right. Her fansticks clicking.
I’d rather have you without a farthing
Than Katey Keogh with her ass and garden.
Through the open doorway the bar squirted out whiffs of ginger, teadust, biscuitmush. A wild piece of goods. Hard as nails at a bargain, old Tweedy.
—What a time you were! she said.
You pay eighty marks and they plant a dunam of land for you with olives, oranges, almonds or citrons. All dead names. Old now. Far.
No use humming then. Everything on it? Bread and butter, four, sugar, spoon, her cream. Knows the taste of them now. Milly.
Good puzzle would be cross Dublin without passing a pub. Leaving the door ajar, amid the stench of mouldy limewash and stale cobwebs he undid his braces. Good puzzle would be cross Dublin without passing a pub. Did you leave anything on the fire?
Turbaned faces going by. Make hay while the sun shines. Mrs Marion. Square it you with the boss and we’ll split the job, see?
Which? Time I used to try jotting down on my cuff what she said dressing. Olives cheaper: oranges need artificial irrigation. By prodding a prong of the fork under the kidney he detached it and turned it turtle on its back.
All dimpled cheeks and curls,
Your head it simply swirls.
He drank a draught of cooler tea to wash down his meal. Matcham often thinks of the masterstroke by which he won the laughing witch who now. Well, God is good, sir.
—O, there you are, Mr Bloom said, turning from the fire.
Mouth dry. Kind of stuff you read: in the track of the sun. She didn’t want anything. Well, I am here now. Just how she stalks over my writingtable. To smell the gentle smoke of tea, fume of the pan, sizzling butter. Fresh air helps memory. Her nature. Begins and ends morally. And when he had heard his voice say it he added:
Row with her in the XL Café about the bracelet. A mother watches me from her doorway. They like them sizeable. A speck of dust on the patent leather of her boot.
Must get those settled really. Gone. The oldest people. O please, Mr Policeman, I’m lost in the wood.
They say we have forgotten it. Simon Dedalus takes him off to a tee with his eyes screwed up. Travel round in front of the sun, steal a day’s march on him.
—That do? he asked, turning.
Getting on to sundown. Always have fresh greens then. Crates lined up on the quayside at Jaffa, chap ticking them off in a book, navvies handling them barefoot in soiled dungarees. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods’ roes. Girl’s sweet light lips. Molly in Citron’s basketchair. Mullingar. August bank holiday, only two and six return. Night sky, moon, violet, colour of Molly’s new garters. Whacking a carpet on the clothesline. Four umbrellas, her raincloak. They understand what we say better than we understand them. Is that Boylan well off? He has money. Why? They shine in the dark, perhaps, the tips. That bee or bluebottle here Whitmonday.
Voglio e non. They had a gay old time while it lasted. What is he foostering over that change for? Sees me looking. He died on Monday, poor fellow.
Brutal, why not? Try it anyhow. These pots we have to wear. Their Eldorado. Singing with his eyes shut. Keeps a hotel now. Want to be careful. You just shove in my name if I’m not there, will you?
Good job it wasn’t farther south. Turn up with a veil and black bag. Jack Fleming embezzling to gamble then smuggled off to America. Getting up in a minute.
Regular hotbed of it lately. Tell about places you have been, strange customs. Must get some from Tom Kernan. I might have tried to work M’Coy for a pass to Mullingar.
Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir. What is he foostering over that change for? Sees me looking. Such a bad headache. The air feeds most. Nicer if a nice girl did it. Seventh heaven. The lane is safer.
Or a poison bouquet to strike him down. Latin. That orangeflower water is so fresh. First of the month it must have been or the second. Something like those mazzoth: it’s that sort of bread: unleavened shewbread. He ought to physic himself a bit. Male impersonator. Shrunken skull. Squareheaded chaps those must be in Rome: they work the whole show. Tea. Who has the organ here I wonder? Old Glynn he knew how to make that instrument talk, the vibrato: fifty pounds a year they say he had in Gardiner street. Seventh heaven. Henry dear, do not deny my request before my patience are exhausted. Tell him if he smokes he won’t grow. Sweet lemony wax.
Or their skirt behind, placket unhooked. I do wish I could punish you for that. Always happening like that. He saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward, lemonyellow: his navel, bud of flesh: and saw the dark tangled curls of his bush floating, floating hair of the stream around the limp father of thousands, a languid floating flower.
Excuse, miss, there’s a (whh!) just a (whh!) fluff. Ruins and tenements. Yes, bread of angels it’s called.
She didn’t know what to do
To keep it up,
To keep it up.
Must carry a paper goblet next time I go to the trottingmatches. I am sorry you did not like my last letter. Azotes. In came Hoppy. Clever idea Saint Patrick the shamrock. I’d like my job. Skin breeds lice or vermin. And just imagine that. And plotting that murder all the time. Quite right. You can pay all together, sir, when you come back.
Softsoaping. on saint Peter Claver S. Husband learn to his surprise. You just shove in my name if I’m not there, will you?
Is it Paddy Dignam? I said. You could tear up a cheque for a hundred pounds in the same way. You could tear up a cheque for a hundred pounds in the same way. You just shove in my name if I’m not there, will you?
Like to give them an odd cigarette. What perfume does your wife use. Not up yet. The lane is safer.
He stopped at each, took out a communion, shook a drop or two (are they in water?) off it and put it neatly into her mouth. Tight collar he’ll lose his hair. Wine.
—Yes, Mr Bloom said.
Maud Gonne’s letter about taking them off O’Connell street at night: disgrace to our Irish capital. O let him! His life isn’t such a bed of roses. Remedy where you least expect it. Then out she comes. Curious longing I. She stood still, waiting, while the man, husband, brother, like her, searched his pockets for change. Well, tolloll. Good poor brutes they look. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for cough. The quick touch. Sermon by the very reverend John Conmee S. The doctors of the church: they mapped out the whole theology of it.
Too hot to quarrel. Want to be careful. Father Bernard Vaughan’s sermon first. Getting up in a minute.
It does. A batch knelt at the altarrails. Yes, bread of angels it’s called. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the typed envelope.
Molly was in fine voice that day, the Stabat Mater of Rossini. Who was telling me? Holohan. Mark time. Tell her: more and more: all. The earth. Where is this? Ah yes, the last time. When was it I got it made up last? Wait. Getting up in a minute.
Feel fresh then all the day. Three we have. O, no, she’s not here: the flower: no, no. He saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward, lemonyellow: his navel, bud of flesh: and saw the dark tangled curls of his bush floating, floating hair of the stream around the limp father of thousands, a languid floating flower.
Shout a few flying syllables as they pass. Must carry a paper goblet next time I go to the trottingmatches. Good poor brutes they look. Celestials. But we. Betting. Per second for every second it means. I have never felt myself so much drawn to a man as you. More than doctor or solicitor. Still like you better untidy. Hamlet she played last night. Table: able. Walk on roseleaves. Annoyed if you don’t. He turned from the morning noises of the quayside and walked through Lime street. O, surely he bagged it. Massage. And the other one? Iron nails ran in.
Celestials. I am sorry you did not like my last letter. Wonder how they explain it to the heathen Chinee. Wait, Bantam Lyons muttered. Out of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. No more wandering about. Then come out a bit spreeish. The shreds fluttered away, sank in the dank air: a white flutter, then all sank.
She listens with big dark soft eyes. As he walked he took the folded Freeman from his sidepocket, unfolded it, rolled it lengthwise in a baton and tapped it at each sauntering step against his trouserleg. Azotes. Maximum the second.
Still Captain Culler broke a window in the Kildare street club with a slog to square leg. Hamilton Long’s, founded in the year of the flood. Valise I have a particular fancy for. A badge maybe.
It does. Could hear a pin drop. Twopence a pint, fourpence a quart, eightpence a gallon of porter, no, one and fourpence a gallon of porter. O let him! His life isn’t such a bed of roses. Too late box. Dirt gets rolled up in your navel. today. Molly was in fine voice that day, the Stabat Mater of Rossini. He’s gone. Reedy freckled soprano. Sleeping draughts. Notice because I’m in mourning myself. All his alabaster lilypots. What perfume does your? Peau d’Espagne. Language of flowers. What perfume does your? Peau d’Espagne. Lady’s hand. She liked mignonette. Shows you the money to be made out of porter. Like to see her again in that. Dist. Her friend covering the display of. Reserved about to yield. Under their dropped lids his eyes found the tiny bow of the leather headband inside his high grade ha. Nice discreet place to be next some girl. Then come out a bit spreeish. The earth. I could feel the thrill in the air, the full, the people looking up:
O, no, she’s not here: the flower: no, no. Dirt gets rolled up in your navel. I changed a sovereign I remember.
—One of the best, M’Coy said.
He crossed Townsend street, passed the frowning face of Bethel. Met her once in the park. Influence of the climate. He hummed:
God’s little joke. for the time being in his absolute discretion. Too late box. I might have tried to work M’Coy for a pass to Mullingar.
Clogs the pores or the phlegm. Hello. Lethargy. Then I will tell you all. No, Peter Claver I am thinking of. Good morning, have you used Pears’ soap? Dandruff on his shoulders. Flowers of idleness. Quite right. Clever idea Saint Patrick the shamrock. Against my grain somehow. I’ll call later in the day and I’ll take one of these soaps. Where was the chap I saw in that picture somewhere? Ah yes, in the dead sea floating on his back, reading a book with a parasol open. Too hot to quarrel. What kind of voice is it? Must be curious to hear after their own strong basses. Everyone wants to. Against my grain somehow. Glimpses of the moon. Now could you make out a thing like that?
Good idea the Latin. Still like you better untidy. A wise tabby, a blinking sphinx, watched from her warm sill. Nathan’s voice! His son’s voice! I hear the voice of Nathan who left his father to die of grief and misery in my arms, who left the house of his father and left the God of his father.
Woman dying to. Girl in Eustace street hallway Monday was it settling her garter. Take off the rough dirt. He unrolled the newspaper baton idly and read idly:
Why? Reaction. Messenger boys stealing to put on sixpence. All crossed themselves and stood up. His fingers found quickly a card behind the headband and transferred it to his waistcoat pocket.
Dark lady and fair man. Shout a few flying syllables as they pass. A lifetime in a night. That woman at midnight mass. He ought to physic himself a bit. Not a sinner. Quis est homo.
Where’s old Tweedy’s regiment? Castoff soldier. His right hand came down into the bowl of his hat. Perhaps he was a woman. A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between.
Twopence a pint, fourpence a quart, eightpence a gallon of porter, no, one and fourpence a gallon of porter. He’s not going out in bluey specs with the sweat rolling off him to baptise blacks, is he? The glasses would take their fancy, flashing. The King’s own. Fleshpots of Egypt.
The earth. Messenger boys stealing to put on sixpence. Whispering gallery walls have ears. Fleshpots of Egypt.
Lord Iveagh once cashed a sevenfigure cheque for a million in the bank of Ireland. Azotes. Who was telling me? Holohan. By Brady’s cottages a boy for the skins lolled, his bucket of offal linked, smoking a chewed fagbutt. Eyes front. In came Hoppy. Were those two buttons of my waistcoat open all the time? Women enjoy it. Then the next one. Aq. He approached a bench and seated himself in its corner, nursing his hat and newspaper. Then I will tell you all. Then feel all like one family party, same in the theatre, all in the same swim. Hammam. She might be here with a ribbon round her neck and do the other thing all the same on the sly. Green Chartreuse. Forget. And old. Tight collar he’ll lose his hair. I often think of the beautiful name you have. I remember slightly. Hamilton Long’s, founded in the year of the flood. Keep him on hands: might take a turn in there on the nod. He approached a bench and seated himself in its corner, nursing his hat and newspaper. Careless air: just drop in to see. Clery’s Summer Sale. Water to water. I do wish I could punish you for that. Not up yet. Woman dying to. We ought to have hats modelled on our heads. Changed since the first letter. Dirt gets rolled up in your navel. Raffle for large tender turkey. Gradually changes your character. Suppose he lost the pin of his. The earth. Then the next one: a small old woman. What a lark. Bald spot behind. Flowers of idleness. Good job it wasn’t farther south. His fingers found quickly a card behind the headband and transferred it to his waistcoat pocket.
No answer probably. Flowers of idleness. Then he put on his hat again, relieved: and read again: choice blend, made of the finest Ceylon brands. Lovely shame. Who is my neighbour? Jammed by the hour to slow music. That fellow that turned queen’s evidence on the invincibles he used to receive the, Carey was his name, the communion every morning. Nice enough in its way: for a little ballad. Angry tulips with you darling manflower punish your cactus if you don’t please poor forgetmenot how I long violets to dear roses when we soon anemone meet all naughty nightstalk wife Martha’s perfume. There’s a committee formed. Corny. So it is. Their character. Shout a few flying syllables as they pass. Yes I. Take me out of my way. Clogs the pores or the phlegm. All weathers, all places, time or setdown, no will of their own.
—Yes, Mr Bloom said.
Then the spokes: sports, sports, sports: and the hub big: college. No worry. No, he’s going on straight. Have you brought a bottle?
Prefer an ounce of opium. One of the old queen’s sons, duke of Albany was it? had only one skin. Naughty boy: punish: afraid of words, of course. Also the two sluts in the Coombe would listen.
Heatwave. Doesn’t give them any of it: shew wine: only the other. Hospice for the dying. He hummed:
Prefer an ounce of opium. Might just walk into her here. A yellow flower with flattened petals.
—Just keeping alive, M’Coy said.
Remember if you do not I will punish you. today. Walk on roseleaves. Funeral be rather glum.
Because the weight of the water, no, the weight of the body in the water is equal to the weight of the what? Or is it the volume is equal to the weight? It’s a law something like that. Sweeeet song. O how I long to meet you. Well, what are you gaping at?
Eleven, is it? I only heard it last night. Looking at me, the sheet up to her eyes, Spanish, smelling herself, when I was fixing the links in my cuffs. Makes it more aristocratic than for example if he drank what they are used to Guinness’s porter or some temperance beverage Wheatley’s Dublin hop bitters or Cantrell and Cochrane’s ginger ale (aromatic) Torn strip of envelope.
I am sorry you did not like my last letter. Water to water. Safe in the arms of kingdom come. Heatwave. The shreds fluttered away, sank in the dank air: a white flutter, then all sank.
Chopsticks? Conmee: Martin Cunningham knows him: distinguishedlooking. Reformed prostitute will address the meeting. Dist. Long long long rest.
And I schschschschschsch. Why? Reaction. Wonder how they explain it to the heathen Chinee. That’ll be all right.
He turned from the morning noises of the quayside and walked through Lime street. Were those two buttons of my waistcoat open all the time? Women enjoy it. Never tell you. I might have tried to work M’Coy for a pass to Mullingar.
Can’t he hear the difference? Think he’s that way inclined a bit. Stylish kind of coat with that roll collar, warm for a day like this, looks like blanketcloth. Repentance skindeep. Eyefocus bad for stomach nerves. They drove off towards the Loop Line bridge, her rich gloved hand on the steel grip. There’s a big idea behind it, kind of kingdom of God is within you feel. Throw them the bone. Getting up in a minute.
Under their dropped lids his eyes found the tiny bow of the leather headband inside his high grade ha. Huguenot churchyard near there. Bad as a row with Molly. You just shove in my name if I’m not there, will you?
Make it up, please. Hamilton Long’s, founded in the year of the flood. His right hand came down into the bowl of his hat. A badge maybe.
Out of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. Test: turns blue litmus paper red. So it is. Nowhere in particular.
Leather. Then feel all like one family party, same in the theatre, all in the same swim. Law of falling bodies: per second per second. Wife and six children at home. today. He’s dead, he said. Wine. Wait, Bantam Lyons muttered. That day! O, dear! O, dear! Ffoo! Well, perhaps it was best for him.
Sweny’s in Lincoln place. And Ristori in Vienna. This very church. Who’s getting it up?
Fol. Walsh D.D. Talk: as if that would mend matters. He turned from the morning noises of the quayside and walked through Lime street. In our confraternity. No worry. No answer probably. Massage. He unrolled the newspaper baton idly and read idly:
Then come out a bit spreeish. All weathers, all places, time or setdown, no will of their own. Take me out of my way. Dear Henry.
Drawing back his head and gazing far from beneath his vailed eyelids he saw the bright fawn skin shine in the glare, the braided drums. The protestants are the same. Aq. M’Coy will do.
I’m sure of that. Rum idea: eating bits of a corpse. Queen was in her bedroom eating bread and. Bantam Lyons doubted an instant, leering: then thrust the outspread sheets back on Mr Bloom’s arms.
Her friend covering the display of. Please tell me what is the real meaning of that word? Are you not happy in your home you poor little naughty boy? I do wish I could do something for you. There’s a drowning case at Sandycove may turn up and then the coroner and myself would have to go down if the body is found. He’s not going out in bluey specs with the sweat rolling off him to baptise blacks, is he? The glasses would take their fancy, flashing. A lifetime in a night. Bald spot behind. O well, poor fellow, it’s not his fault. Letter. Fall into flesh, don’t they? Gluttons, tall, long legs. Stupefies them first. Pity so empty. Reedy freckled soprano. Peter and Paul. And, faith, he filled up. He covered himself. He unrolled the newspaper baton idly and read idly:
Very warm morning. Damn bad ad. Three we have. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil (may God restrain him, we humbly pray!): and do thou, O prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God thrust Satan down to hell and with him those other wicked spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls.
Is it Paddy Dignam? I said. Jack Fleming embezzling to gamble then smuggled off to America. I called you naughty boy because I do not like that other world. Eyefocus bad for stomach nerves. They drove off towards the Loop Line bridge, her rich gloved hand on the steel grip. Queer the whole atmosphere of the. They can’t play it here. Pity. They all fall to the ground. Husband learn to his surprise. Brother Buzz. Stupefies them first. But the recipe is in the other trousers. Brother Buzz. College sports today I see. Poor little Paddy Dignam, he said.
Fall into flesh, don’t they? Gluttons, tall, long legs. I’ll call later in the day and I’ll take one of these soaps. Yes I. You just shove in my name if I’m not there, will you?
Is it Paddy Dignam? I said. Regular hotbed of it lately. Under their dropped lids his eyes found the tiny bow of the leather headband inside his high grade ha. Nathan’s voice! His son’s voice! I hear the voice of Nathan who left his father to die of grief and misery in my arms, who left the house of his father and left the God of his father.
Careless stand of her with her hands in those patch pockets. Couldn’t ask him at a funeral, though. Open it.
—That will be done, Mr Bloom answered firmly.
Then the next one: a small old woman. Those Cinghalese lobbing about in the sun in dolce far niente, not doing a hand’s turn all day. Their full buck eyes regarded him as he went by, amid the sweet oaten reek of horsepiss.
—Are there any letters for me? he asked.
And, faith, he filled up. Or their skirt behind, placket unhooked. The earth. Martha.
Sleeping draughts. Nice discreet place to be next some girl. I’m sure of that. Benedictine. Quite right. Massage. In our confraternity. Remind you of a mosque, redbaked bricks, the minarets. Went too far last time.
How did she walk with her sausages? Like that something. Mohammed cut a piece out of his mantle not to wake her. Leah tonight. She liked mignonette. Eyes front. Mysterious. Their character. The priest in that Fermanagh will case in the witnessbox. Please tell me what is the real meaning of that word? Are you not happy in your home you poor little naughty boy? I do wish I could do something for you. Soft mark. I do wish I could punish you for that. O, no, she’s not here: the flower: no, no. Changed since the first letter. I’m sure of that. Then I will tell you all. Cat furry black ball. I was with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it in the Arch. What is this the right name is? By Mosenthal it is. First of the month it must have been or the second. Proud: rich: silk stockings.
James M’Cann’s hobby to row me o’er the ferry. Mistake of nature. Martin Cunningham could work a pass for the Gaiety. Mouth fallen open. A portly man, ambushed among the grasses, raised his hat in homage.
—Ten minutes, Martin Cunningham said, looking at his watch.
Charnelhouses. Shuttered, tenantless, unweeded garden. I had one like that when we lived in Lombard street west. The waggoner marching at their head saluted.
Monday he died. A smile goes a long way. Wait, I wanted to. Saluting Ned Lambert and John Henry Menton he walked on at Martin Cunningham’s side puzzling two long keys at his back.
Thinks he’ll cure it with pills. Piebald for bachelors. O jumping Jupiter! Ye gods and little fishes! Still, she’s a dear girl. Mary Anderson is up there now.
I often thought it would be better to have boy servants. Much better to close up all the orifices. In white silence: appealing. Wait till you hear him, Simon, on Ben Dollard’s singing of The Croppy Boy.
All breadcrumbs they are. That Mulligan is a contaminated bloody doubledyed ruffian by all accounts. Otherwise you couldn’t remember the face after fifteen years, say. He lifted his brown straw hat, saluting Paddy Dignam.
Got his rag out that evening on the bowlinggreen because I sailed inside him. Seat of the affections. Too much bone in their skulls. I suppose she is in heaven if there is a heaven.
All honeycombed the ground must be: oblong cells. Glad to see us go we give them such trouble coming. Eyes of a toad too.
—Where is he? Mr Dedalus said, stretching over across.
I thought it would. First thing strikes anybody. Murderer’s ground. The carriage steered left for Finglas road.
Gives you second wind. Pass round the consolation. Shaking sleep out of it. He cried above the clatter of the wheels:
The other trotting round with a fare. Yes, he could. He’s dead nuts on that. There’s the sun again coming out.
Yes, he does. Wellcut frockcoat. And that awful drunkard of a wife of his. He cried above the clatter of the wheels:
Also hearses. Too much bone in their skulls. First the stiff: then the friends of the stiff. Wouldn’t be surprised. Speaking.
For Liverpool probably. Where the deuce did he pop out of? He wasn’t in the chapel, that I’ll swear. Shuttered, tenantless, unweeded garden.
—I did not, Martin Cunningham said.
The weapon used. I read in that Voyages in China that the Chinese say a white man smells like a corpse. Whores in Turkish graveyards. He does some canvassing for ads.
Very encouraging. Even Parnell. Who was telling me? Mervyn Browne. For my son Leopold.
Where the deuce did he pop out of? He wasn’t in the chapel, that I’ll swear. Some animal. It was a pitchdark night. Isn’t it awfully good?
Developing waterways. Mouth fallen open. Young student. They ought to.
Camping out. I know. Wrongfully condemned. Wallace Bros: the bottleworks: Dodder bridge.
Quite right to close it. Black for the married. Grows all the same after. Before my patience are exhausted.
Would he understand? The mutes bore the coffin into the chapel. For Hindu widows only. Up. That one day he will come again.
Peter. Yes, he could. Come out and live in the graveyard. Mr Bloom stood behind the boy with the wreath looking down at his sleekcombed hair and at the slender furrowed neck inside his brandnew collar. Wren had one the other day at the auction but a lady’s. One dragged aside: an old woman peeping. Consort not even a king. Jolly Mat. I am just looking at them: well pared. Walking beside Molly in an Eton suit. Then he walked to the other end and shook it again. Got the shove, all of them. Instinct. Full as a tick. Mat Dillon’s long ago. Wren had one the other day at the auction but a lady’s.
—And, Martin Cunningham said, we wouldn’t have scenes like that when the hearse capsized round Dunphy’s and upset the coffin on to the road.
The grey alive crushed itself in under the plinth, wriggled itself in under it. Sir Philip Crampton’s memorial fountain bust. Thos. Dennany, monumental builder and sculptor.
Pray for the repose of the soul of. Standing? His head might come up some day above ground in a landslip with his hand pointing. Ivy day dying out. There is a word throstle that expresses that.
They wouldn’t care about the smell of it. He died of a Tuesday. Wonder he had the gumption to propose to any girl. Never see a dead one, they say. Victoria and Albert. Expect we’ll pull up here on the way back to drink his health. Always a good word to say. Down in the vaults of saint Werburgh’s lovely old organ hundred and fifty they have to bore a hole in the coffins sometimes to let out the bad gas and burn it. Stuffy it was. His garden Major Gamble calls Mount Jerome. They used to drive a stake of wood through his heart in the grave. Ned Lambert smiled.
Still he’d have to get someone to sod him after he died though he could dig his own grave. Well preserved fat corpse, gentleman, epicure, invaluable for fruit garden. Mason, I think: not sure.
—Are you going yourself?
She had that cream gown on with the rip she never stitched. I said I. Out it rushes: blue. The Gordon Bennett.
Would he understand? The mutes bore the coffin into the chapel. Out on the rampage all night. Mistake of nature.
—We have all been there, Martin Cunningham said broadly.
My son. The letter. Murderer’s ground. Condole with her. We have time.
In white silence: appealing. Then Mount Jerome for the protestants. Perhaps I will without writing. A traveller for blottingpaper.
Could I go to see Leah tonight, I wonder. Not much grief there. Dreadful.
—Your son and heir.
To heaven by water. But his heart is buried in Rome. Then dried up. The last house.
For many happy returns. That keeps him alive. Tinge of purple. Mr Dedalus said:
Habeas corpus. See him grow up. Pray for the repose of the soul of. They wouldn’t care about the smell of it. Had slipped down to the foot of the bed. Well it’s God’s acre for them. Crape weepers. The death struggle. Mr Bloom put on his hat and saw the portly figure make its way deftly through the maze of graves. Sunlight through the slats of the Venetian blind. Wear the heart out of a stone, that. Where the deuce did he pop out of? He wasn’t in the chapel, that I’ll swear. Mat Dillon’s long ago. Do they know what they cart out here every day? Must be twenty or thirty funerals every day. Learn German too.
Drink like the devil till it turns adelite. Keys: like Keyes’s ad: no fear of anyone getting out. Soon be a woman.
—Nothing between himself and heaven, Ned Lambert answered.
Policeman’s shoulders. Little. That Mulligan is a contaminated bloody doubledyed ruffian by all accounts. But I wish Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better.
Poor boy! Was he there when the father? Both unconscious. Men like that. Go out of mourning first. Saltwhite crumbling mush of corpse: smell, taste like raw white turnips.
Learn anything if taken young. Dying to embrace her in his shirt. Greyish over the ears. Lord, I mustn’t lilt here.
Bit of clay from the holy land. Still they’d kiss all right if properly keyed up. Glad to see us go we give them such trouble coming. Murderer is still at large. More interesting if they told you what they were. Near death’s door. That’s the first sign when the hairs come out grey. No passout checks. So and So, wheelwright. On the slow weedy waterway he had floated on his raft coastward over Ireland drawn by a haulage rope past beds of reeds, over slime, mudchoked bottles, carrion dogs. Mr Kernan and Ned Lambert followed, Hynes walking after them. A coffin bumped out on to the road. One bent to pluck from the haft a long tuft of grass. Find out what they imagine they know. Then he walked to the other end and shook it again. Still, the flowers are more poetical. People talk about you a bit: forget you. At night too. Don’t forget to pray for him. A dying scrawl. Wait till you hear him, Simon, on Ben Dollard’s singing of The Croppy Boy.
The other trotting round with a fare. Ah, the names. Our windingsheet. Ned Lambert says he’ll try to get one of the girls into Todd’s.
As if it wasn’t broken already. Looks full up of bad gas. Dull business by day, land agents, temperance hotel, Falconer’s railway guide, civil service college, Gill’s, catholic club, the industrious blind.
—We had better look a little serious, Martin Cunningham said.
Even Parnell. A few bob a skull. Drowning they say is the pleasantest. Hope he’ll say something else.
Too much John Barleycorn. Laying it out. I must see about that ad after the funeral. A pump after all, pumping thousands of gallons of blood every day. Got the shove, all of them. How life begins.
We learned that from them. Dying to embrace her in his shirt. Wonder he had the gumption to propose to any girl.
—Better ask Tom Kernan, Mr Dedalus said.
Wild geese. The bloodiest old tartar God ever made. Ireland my country. And in the porches of mine ear did pour.
I see what you mean. We are liege subjects of the catholic chivalry of Europe that foundered at Trafalgar and of the empire of the spirit, not an imperium, that went under with the Athenian fleets at Aegospotami. Cuprani too, printer. Sad case.
Demesne situate in the townland of Rosenallis, barony of Tinnahinch. Pyrrhus, misled by an oracle, made a last attempt to retrieve the fortunes of Greece. Double marriage of sisters celebrated. We think of Rome, imperial, imperious, imperative.
I was looking for a fellow to back a bill for me no later than last week. You have no cities nor no wealth: our cities are hives of humanity and our galleys, trireme and quadrireme, laden with all manner merchandise furrow the waters of the known globe. But he practically promised he’d give the renewal. He began:
Paddy Hooper is there with Jack Hall. He boomed that workaday worker tack for all it was worth. It is said of him that none could tell if he were bitterer against others or against himself.
—Racing special! DEAR DIRTY DUBLIN.
F.A.B.P. This ad, you see. This ad, you see. To which particular boosing shed...? My casting vote is: Mooney’s!
His dark lean face had a growth of shaggy beard round it. Wait a moment.
As he mostly sees double
To wear them why trouble?
I can’t see the Joe Miller.
—Just cut it out, will you? Mr Bloom said, and I’ll take it round to the Telegraph office.
Moses and the promised land. Yes, yes. The Jews in the wilderness and on the mountaintop said: It is meet to be here. His finger leaped and struck point after point, vibrating.
He boomed that workaday worker tack for all it was worth. That hectic flush spells finis for a man. Out of an advertisement. Screams of newsboys barefoot in the hall rushed near and the door was flung open.
Usual blarney. Our lovely land. But he wants just a little puff. The foreman thought for an instant.
I’ll catch him. It is not perchance a French compliment? Mr O’Madden Burke asked. The Roman, like the Englishman who follows in his footsteps, brought to every new shore on which he set his foot (on our shore he never set it) only his cloacal obsession. I must get a drink after that.
Dear, O dear! All that long business about that brought us out of the land of Egypt and into the house of bondage alleluia. He began to check it silently. I ought to have said something about an old hat or something. Let him give us a three months’ renewal.
Wellread fellow. Mainly all pictures. It sounds nobler than British or Brixton. His slim hand with a wave graced echo and fall.
And then the lamb and the cat and the dog and the stick and the water and the butcher. You must take the will for the deed. Cuprani too, printer. Lenehan gave a loud cough.
I see it in your face. O’Molloy murmured. Shite and onions! That’ll do, Ned. He turned towards Myles Crawford and said:
Go for one another baldheaded in the papers and then all blows over. Well, you can do that and just a little par calling attention. This ad, you see.
—Very smart, Mr O’Madden Burke said.
O’Molloy’s towards Stephen’s face and then bent at once to the ground, seeking. They always build one door opposite another for the wind to. Eh? Ah, bloody nonsense.
—Just another spasm, Ned Lambert said.
Cuprani too, printer. What do you think really of that hermetic crowd, the opal hush poets: A. Demesne situate in the townland of Rosenallis, barony of Tinnahinch. The troop of bare feet was heard rushing along the hallway and pattering up the staircase.
SPARTANS GNASH MOLARS. Old Chatterton, the vicechancellor, is his granduncle or his greatgranduncle. Lady Dudley was walking home through the park to see all the trees that were blown down by that cyclone last year and thought she’d buy a view of Dublin.
"YOU CAN DO IT!”
Justice it means but it’s everybody eating everyone else. Wait a minute. Where’s the archbishop’s letter? It’s to be repeated in the Telegraph. Dublin’s prime favourite.
Great song of Julia Morkan’s. Eat pig like pig. The Messiah was first given for that. Safe!
Powdered bosom pearls. Well up: it splashed yellow near his boot. Show us over those apricots, meaning peaches. Can you give us a good one for the Gold cup?
Debating societies. Mr Bloom’s eye followed its line and saw again the dyeworks’ van drawn up before Drago’s. Built on bread and onions. Tom Rochford spilt powder from a twisted paper into the water set before him.
Then casual wards full after. Potato. People knocking them up at all hours. No time to do her hair drinking sloppy tea with a book of poetry.
Stands a drink now and then. Won’t look. The flow of the language it is. Tom Rochford spilt powder from a twisted paper into the water set before him.
Gave Reuben J a great strawcalling. Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it. Sir Thomas Deane designed. Drinkers, drinking, laughed spluttering, their drink against their breath. Pen ...? Of course it’s years ago. His brain yielded. Heart trouble, I believe. Didn’t see me. Flapdoodle to feed fools on. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne’s. Handker. Squarepushing up against a backdoor. Grub. Almost taste them by looking. An old friend of mine. Brrfoo! Blew up all her skirts and her boa nearly smothered old Goodwin. Happier then. War comes on: into the army helterskelter: same fellows used to. Cheese digests all but itself. Powerful man he was at stowing away number one Bass. Sticking them all over the place. No.
Are you saved? All are washed in the blood of the lamb. Jingling, hoofthuds. Have a finger in the pie.
Kino’s
11/-
Trousers.
Dion Boucicault business with his harvestmoon face in a poky bonnet. Must be the focus where the rays cross. Now, isn’t that wit. Ah.
Grace after meals. Back out you get the knife. Need artificial irrigation.
—A cenar teco.
Who found them out? Garbage, sewage they feed on. Table talk. Ought to be places for women. Keep you sitting by the tap all night.
Top and lashers going out. Our Saviour. Got the provinces now. His eyes sought answer from the river and saw a rowboat rock at anchor on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board.
There might be other answers Iying there. Jingling harnesses. Flybynight. U.P.: up.
Again. His first bow to the public. Doesn’t bring in any business either.
—Yes.
Dead drunk on the porter. I could see the bluey silver over it. Milly tucked up in beddyhouse. For answer Tom Rochford pressed his hand to his breastbone and hiccupped.
Plait baskets. First I must. Gammon and spinach. Pity, of course: but somehow you can’t cotton on to them someway.
She did get flushed in the wind. out of him. Curiosity.
—Roast beef and cabbage.
Give me in charge. Museum. Perhaps to Levenston’s dancing academy piano. He wouldn’t surely?
Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria was given that. Small wages. Johnny Magories. Wealth of the world.
Feel a gap. Other steps into his shoes when he gets his notice to quit. More shameless not seeing. Heart to heart talks.
Tear it limb from limb. Dear, dear, dear. Soft warm sticky gumjelly lips. Didn’t cost him a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement. The devil on moneylenders. Old legal cronies cracking a magnum. You can’t lick ‘em. Never speaking. A miss Dubedat lived in Killiney, I remember. That’ll be two pounds ten about two pounds eight. Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents. Must go back for that lotion. Hates sewing. Would you go back to then? Just beginning then. Who ate or something the somethings of the reverend Mr MacTrigger. Christmas turkeys and geese.
—Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy? Mr Bloom asked.
Small wages. Bargains. Lean people long mouths. Seems to a secret touch telling me memory. Theodore’s cousin in Dublin Castle. Sister? Pat Claffey, the pawnbroker’s daughter. Hot I tongued her. Sucking duck eggs by God till further orders. Beard and bicycle. Glowworm’s la-amp is gleaming, love. Prescott’s dyeworks van over there. Those races are on today. La causa è santa! Tara tara. Watch him! Out he goes again. Time going on. Freeze them up with that eye of his. Up in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then the rest of the year sober as a judge.
His brother used men as pawns. Pure olive oil. Five guineas about. No answer.
Luncheon interval. He doesn’t chat. Clerk with the glasses there doesn’t know me. Behind a bull: in front of a horse.
If it was it was. O, Bloom has his good points. Wimple suited her small head. Potato. Polygamy. I have them all on. Cold statues: quiet there. Sister? Pat Claffey, the pawnbroker’s daughter. Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court.
Didn’t you see him look at his watch? Ah, you weren’t there. Today it is. Her voice floating out. Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria was given that. They have no. Something green it would have to be: spinach, say. Gave Reuben J a great strawcalling. Her ears ought to have tingled for a few weeks after. Scrape: nearly gone. Stuff them up with meat and drink. Not saying a word. There’s a priest. Johnny Magories. Terrible. Bring your own bread and butter. Jingling harnesses. Their lives. Windandwatery though. A man spitting back on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no teeth to chewchewchew it. The sky. Old Goodwin’s tall hat done up with some sticky stuff. Saint Frusquin was her sire. The thoughts. Taree tara. Never see it now. Method in his madness. Yes. Kept her voice up to the very last. Hatpin: ought to have a guard on those things. Hands moving.
—Day, Mr Byrne.
Six. Seeing her home after practice. Like a mortuary chapel. His hand scrawled a dry pen signature beside his grog.
She’s taking it all in. Puts gusto into it. Milly served me that cutlet with a sprig of parsley. Tear it limb from limb. Dreamy, cloudy, symbolistic. No meat and milk together. Chump chop from the grill. His wife will put the stopper on that. Must go back for that lotion. Saw him out at the Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his eldest boy carrying one in a marketnet. Today it is. Goerz lenses six guineas. The firing squad. Again. I never put anything on a horse.
I asked him how was all at home. Cheese digests all but itself. I know a fellow was trying to get into it.
—Ay, he said, sighing.
Old Goodwin’s tall hat done up with some sticky stuff. Unsightly like a clot of phlegm. Women won’t pick up pins.
—Day, gentlemen.
Only big words for ordinary things on account of the sound. Look at me. Looking up from the back garden. They never expected that. Knew her eyes at once from the father. But they’re as close as damn it. Huguenot name I expect that. Fool and his money. That was a nice nun there, really sweet face. Dr Hy Franks.
—The ace of spades! Mr Bloom said.
Great man’s brother: his brother’s brother. Bad for their tummies. Agendath Netaim. Great song of Julia Morkan’s. A nice salad, cool as a cucumber, Tom Kernan can dress. Embroider. Met him pike hoses she called it till I told her about the transmigration. Here’s good luck. Up with her on the car: wishswish. Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke. Did you ever hear such an idea? Eat you out of house and home. Gas: then solid: then world: then cold: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, like that pineapple rock. Some school treat. Ten years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that’s right the big fire at Arnott’s. When the sound of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne said from his book:
Remember when we got home raking up the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her supper with the Chutney sauce she liked. Next chap rubs on a new batch with his. Freeman. He read the scarlet letters on their five tall white hats: H. Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents. Idea for a poison mystery. Mr Bloom’s eye followed its line and saw again the dyeworks’ van drawn up before Drago’s. He walked along the curbstone.
Birth, hymen, martyr, war, foundation of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering, druids’ altars. She did get flushed in the wind. Salty too. Other three hundred born, washing the blood off, all are washed in the blood of the lamb, bawling maaaaaa.
Plain soda would do him good. Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruit interior. Try it on the dog first.
—What is this he is? Isn’t he in the insurance line?
Touched his sense moistened remembered. Ah soap there I yes. There he goes into Frederick street. Let me see now. Lines round her mouth. Pillar of salt. Now he’s really what they call a dirty jew. Sitting on his throne sucking red jujubes white.
How flat they look all of a sudden after. Always liked to let her self out. Stop or I’ll tell the missus on you. Still David Sheehy beat him for south Meath. Nice piece of wood in that counter. Rest rubble, sprawling suburbs, jerrybuilt. Cannibals would with lemon and rice. Ancient free and accepted order. Like a child’s hand, his hand. Does no harm. Now, isn’t that wit. Lucky I had the presence of mind to dive into Manning’s or I was souped. Debating societies. Underfed she looks too. Circles of ten so that a fellow couldn’t round on more than his own ring. Remember her laughing at the wind, her blizzard collar up. Fear injects juices make it tender enough for them. Tainted game. And who is the gentleman does be visiting there? Was the young master saying anything? Peeping Tom through the keyhole. Rawhead and bloody bones. Needles in window curtains.
Small wages. High tea. Code. Dinner of thirty courses. Deaden the gnaw of hunger that way. Where is he now? Beggar somewhere. Italian I prefer. Polygamy. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a christian brother. Fields of undersea, the lines faint brown in grass, buried cities. Jack Power could a tale unfold: father a G man. One born every second somewhere. I must answer. Sandwich? Ham and his descendants musterred and bred there. Raise Cain. What a stupid ad! Under the obituary notices they stuck it. That Kilkenny People in the national library now I must.
Knew her eyes at once from the father. Shaky on his pins, poor old sot. Our gracious and popular vicereine.
—And your lord and master?
Bad luck to big Ben Dollard and his John O’Gaunt. They cook in soda. He always walks outside the lampposts. You can make bacon of that.
I suggested to him about a transparent showcart with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper. No meat and milk together. running in to loosen a button.
—What? Mr Bloom asked.
Waste of time. The élite. Old Mrs Thornton was a jolly old soul. See? It all works out.
Doesn’t bring in any business either. That the language question should take precedence of the economic question. Rover cycleshop. Who is this was telling me? Isn’t Blazes Boylan mixed up in it?
No-one about. Elijah thirtytwo feet per sec is com. Fascinating little book that is of sir Robert Ball’s.
—All on the baker’s list, Mrs Breen said.
Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruit interior. And that other old mosey lunatic in those duds. Still better tell him. Hands moving. So he was, faith.
—Sad to lose the old friends, Mrs Breen’s womaneyes said melancholily.
All yielding she tossed my hair. She used to say Ben Dollard had a base barreltone voice. Or the inkbottle I suggested with a false stain of black celluloid. Pity, of course: but somehow you can’t cotton on to them someway.
Eat pig like pig. Flies’ picnic too. Conceited fellow with his waxedup moustache. Never speaking. Sea air sours it, I heard. Children fighting for the scrapings of the pot. For what we have already received may the Lord make us. Stop or I’ll tell the missus on you. Joy: I ate it: joy. Won’t look. Yom Kippur fast spring cleaning of inside. He’s an excellent brother. A diner, knife and fork upright, elbows on table, ready for a second helping stared towards the foodlift across his stained square of newspaper. What was it she wanted? The Malaga raisins. Can’t see it.
Why he fixed on me. Workbasket I could buy for Molly’s birthday. Other steps into his shoes when he gets his notice to quit. Iron Nails Ran In.
Dockrell’s, one and ninepence a dozen. Heart trouble, I believe. Flowers her eyes were, take me, willing eyes. I often saw him in here and I never once saw him—you know, over the line.
Feel a gap. Wonder if he pays rent to the corporation. Houses, lines of houses, streets, miles of pavements, piledup bricks, stones. Not go in and blurt out what you know you’re not to: what’s parallax? Show this gentleman the door.
Yellowgreen towards Sutton. I suggested to him about a transparent showcart with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper. But the poor buffer would have to stand all the time with his insides entrails on show. Nicely planed. There he goes into Frederick street. Don’t like all the smells in it waiting to rush out. I must answer. Potato. Who’s getting it up?
Save. Want a souppot as big as the Phoenix park. A squad of others, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the station. The harp that once did starve us all.
Fizz and Red bank oysters. Good stroke. Watch him! Out he goes again. But then why is it that saltwater fish are not salty? How is that?
New set of microbes. Albert Edward, Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire. Born with a silver knife in his mouth. A dead snip.
Wildly I lay on her, kissed her: eyes, her lips, her stretched neck beating, woman’s breasts full in her blouse of nun’s veiling, fat nipples upright. Apjohn, myself and Owen Goldberg up in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys. And she did bedad. People looking after her.
Terrible. Powdered bosom pearls. Each person too. Flea having a good square meal.
Must be selling off some old furniture. Butchers’ buckets wobbly lights. Goosestep. Swagger around livery stables. His Excellency the lord lieutenant. If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes like that. Supposed to be well connected. Ah soap there I yes. Give me in charge. Flakes of pastry on the gusset of her dress: daub of sugary flour stuck to her cheek. Stuff them up with meat and drink. Heart trouble, I believe. She didn’t like it because I sprained my ankle first day she wore choir picnic at the Sugarloaf. Appetite like an albatross. Good. Beauty: it curves: curves are beauty. Stuff them up with meat and drink. Answer. He’s going to take an action for ten thousand pounds, he says.
Du de la is French. Powdered bosom pearls. Peace and war depend on some fellow’s digestion. Mirus bazaar. Deaden the gnaw of hunger that way. See things in their forehead perhaps: kind of sense of volume. Now that’s a coincidence. Could see her in the bedroom from the hearth unclamping the busk of her stays: white.
She did get flushed in the wind. Pen ...? Of course it’s years ago. She did get flushed in the wind. His wife will put the stopper on that. I know a fellow was trying to get into it. One and eightpence too much. Cheese digests all but itself. Must be a new moon out, she said. They are not Boyl: no, M’Glade’s men. You can’t lick ‘em. Sweet name too: caramel. What? Our envelopes. Beauty: it curves: curves are beauty. They cook in soda. Caviare. Like old times. Devil of a job it was collecting accounts of those convents. On the pig’s back.
Policeman’s lot is oft a happy one. Won’t look. All to see.
—How is the main drainage? Nosey Flynn asked, sipping.
Money. Matcham often thinks of the masterstroke. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a christian brother. Lord knows what concoction. Ice cones. Children fighting for the scrapings of the pot. No accounting for tastes. That was a nice nun there, really sweet face. Just beginning to plump it out well. Hidden under wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. The belly is the smoothest. Hard time she must have with him.
All yielding she tossed my hair. Different feel perhaps. There was a right royal old nigger.
—That so? Davy Byrne said...
Wanted to try that often. Our Saviour. An old friend of mine. Tell me all.
Thing like that spoils the effect of a night for her. Handy man wants job. Cauls mouldy tripes windpipes faked and minced up. Same bait. After his good lunch in Earlsfort terrace. Just at the gate.
Changing hands. Handker. Has his own ideas of justice in the recorder’s court. Nature abhors a vacuum.
Or the inkbottle I suggested with a false stain of black celluloid. Positively last appearance on any stage. Ought to be a hall or a place where inventors could go in and invent free. Knows how to tell a story too.
Send him back the half of a cow. Astonishing the things people leave behind them in trains and cloakrooms. La causa è santa! Tara tara. Corner of Harcourt road remember that gust. Milly was a kiddy then. The firing squad. She’s well nourished, I tell you. Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies. A housekeeper of one of those fellows if you could pick it out of her. It’s the droll way he comes out with the things. Devour contents in the street. His tongue clacked in compassion. A squad of others, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the station. Old woman that lived in a shoe she had so many children. Must go out there some first Saturday of the month. Still it’s the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out of making money hand over fist finger in fishes’ gills can’t write his name on a cheque think he was painting the landscape with his mouth twisted. Feel a gap. Ca’ canny. May be for months and may be for never. My literary efforts have had the good fortune to meet with the approval of the eminent poet A. This owner, that. Dignam carted off. Putting up in the Buckingham Palace hotel under their very noses. Sympathetic listener. Looking for grub. He’s an excellent brother. Prepare to receive cavalry. Like a mortuary chapel. Josie Powell that was. Money. Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds lowringing in the baking causeway. All the toady news. Turnkey’s daughter got him out of Richmond, off from Lusk. They used to call him big Ben. Kept her voice up to the very last. They mistrust what you tell them. Five guineas about. Just a bite or two. The belly is the smoothest. Not even a caw. Sir Thomas Deane designed. Horse drooping. And a houseful of kids at home. Driver in John Long’s. Goddesses. Couldn’t hear what the band played. Yum. He has some bloody horse up his sleeve for the Gold cup. Zinfandel’s the favourite, lord Howard de Walden’s, won at Epsom. Wanted live man for spirit counter. All kinds of places are good for ads. Flowers her eyes were, take me, willing eyes. Turnkey’s daughter got him out of Richmond, off from Lusk. An eightpenny in the Burton. Unsightly like a clot of phlegm. Fizz and Red bank oysters. Milly was a kiddy then. Bolting to get it over. Six years. I don’t believe it. Wake up in the dead of night and see him on the wall, hanging. Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone. Circles of ten so that a fellow couldn’t round on more than his own ring. They cook in soda. I must go after him. Those lovely seaside girls. Yom Kippur fast spring cleaning of inside. cuisine, housemaid kept. Five guineas about. And she did bedad. Today. Know me come eat with me. His parboiled eyes. Wine in my face. The ball bobbed unheeded on the wake of swells, floated under by the bridgepiers. Tranquilla convent. Drinkers, drinking, laughed spluttering, their drink against their breath. Why did I? Too heady.
—Day, gentlemen.
Cook and general, exc. Good pick me up. Our gracious and popular vicereine. Yes.
Show us over those apricots, meaning peaches. Lenehan gets some good ones. Goddesses. Then passing over her white skin. Couldn’t hear what the band played. Insidious. Staggering bob. Looking up from the back garden. Life with hard labour. Instinct. One born every second somewhere. No-one. Lucky Molly got over hers lightly. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was that kind of food you see produces the like waves of the brain the poetical. What was he saying? The ends of the world with a Scotch accent. If I get Billy Prescott’s ad: two fifteen. Lick it off the plate, man! Get out of this.
Crossbuns. Slight spasm, full, chewing the cud. Sitting there after till near two taking out her hairpins. Plovers on toast.
Blurt out what I was thinking. But then Shakespeare has no rhymes: blank verse. His brain yielded. How are all your charges?
They drink in order to say or do something or cherchez la femme. Prepare to receive cavalry. Almost taste them by looking. Knife and fork chained to the table.
They say they used to give pauper children soup to change to protestants in the time of the potato blight. Small wages. At their lunch now. Change the subject.
Noise of the trams probably. I have a pain. running in to loosen a button. Johnny Magories. Great song of Julia Morkan’s. Professor Goodwin linking her in front. Gave Reuben J a great strawcalling. Esthetes they are. Wait: was in Thom’s. And the Trinity jibs in their mortarboards. Yum. Ah.
His ideas for ads like Plumtree’s potted under the obituaries, cold meat department. Her voice floating out. Wonder what he was eating. Sloping into the Empire. She’s in the lying-in hospital in Holles street. Have to be spoonfed first. Cook and general, exc. Power those judges have. A good layer. Squarepushing up against a backdoor. They drink in order to say or do something or cherchez la femme. Effect on the sexual. Be a feast for the gods.
That’ll be two pounds ten about two pounds eight. Still they might like. One way of getting on in the world. Wonder would he feel it if something was removed. Might take an objection. In aid of funds for Mercer’s hospital. Cruel. O, that’s nyumnyum. They did right to put him up over a urinal: meeting of the waters. Tried it. Goerz lenses six guineas. Poor thing! Three days! That’s terrible for her.
Today it is. Orangegroves for instance. Van. Hope they have liver and bacon today. He’s in there now with his lawbooks finding out the law of libel. A man spitting back on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no teeth to chewchewchew it. Coming from the vegetarian. Eat pig like pig. His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, yearned more longly, longingly.
Aids to digestion. Round to Menton’s office. Holocaust. Member of the corporation too. Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys. No gratitude in people. Coming events cast their shadows before. Mr Bloom coasted warily. Always gives a woman clumsy feet. Nicely planed. Rub off the microbes with your handkerchief. Downy hair there too. What dreams would he have, not seeing? Life a dream for him. Mothers’ meeting. Light, life and love, by God. Tastes all different for him. Decoy duck. I could see the bluey silver over it. Then the next thing on the menu. One way of getting on in the world. Stands a drink now and then.
—How’s things?
Last night I flew. I am big with child. But a man who holds so tightly to what he calls his rights over what he calls his debts will hold tightly also to what he calls his rights over her whom he calls his wife. A man passed out between them, bowing, greeting.
Who brought me into this world lies there, bronzelidded, under few cheap flowers. So Mr Justice Madden in his Diary of Master William Silence has found the hunting terms.. In words of words for words, palabras. Come, wandering Ængus of the birds.
Once quick in the brains of men. He sued a fellowplayer for the price of a few bags of malt and exacted his pound of flesh in interest for every money lent. Their life, thought, speech are lent them by males. He is a ghost, a shadow now, the wind by Elsinore’s rocks or what you will, the sea’s voice, a voice heard only in the heart of him who is the substance of his shadow, the son consubstantial with the father.
But she, the giglot wanton, did not break a bedvow. Once quick in the brains of men. Lids of Juno’s eyes, violets. I gall his kibe.
If others have their will Ann hath a way. Our national epic has yet to be written, Dr Sigerson says. Of course it’s all paradox, don’t you know, Hughes and hews and hues, the colour, but it’s so typical the way he works it out. John Eclecticon doubly smiled.
The flag is up on the playhouse by the bankside. Hesouls, shesouls, shoals of souls. He carried a memory in his wallet as he trudged to Romeville whistling The girl I left behind me. The favoured rival is William Herbert, earl of Pembroke. Naked wheatbellied sin. Who the girls in The Tempest, in Pericles, in Winter’s Tale are we know. Agenbite of inwit: remorse of conscience. I own that if the poet must be rejected such a rejection would seem more in harmony with—what shall I say?—our notions of what ought not to have been.
Sir Walter Raleigh, when they arrested him, had half a million francs on his back including a pair of fancy stays. Their Pali book we tried to pawn. They go, they come. Is Katharine the shrew illfavoured? Hortensio calls her young and beautiful. He is going to visit the present duke, Piper says, and prove to him that his ancestor wrote the plays. Work in all you know. Ay. Voluble, dutiful, he led the way to all the provincial papers, a bowing dark figure following his hasty heels.
In. He’s quite enthusiastic, don’t you know, about Hyde’s Lovesongs of Connacht. Easily flew.
—Pretty countryfolk had few chattels then, John Eglinton observed, as they have still if our peasant plays are true to type.
Upon incertitude, upon unlikelihood. He says: il se promène, lisant au livre de lui-même, don’t you know, reading the book of himself. Gravediggers bury Hamlet père and Hamlet fils. Excellent people, no doubt, but distressingly shortsighted in some matters.
She read or had read to her his chapbooks preferring them to the Merry Wives and, loosing her nightly waters on the jordan, she thought over Hooks and Eyes for Believers’ Breeches and The most Spiritual Snuffbox to Make the Most Devout Souls Sneeze. What town, good masters? Mummed in names: A. Speech, speech. His look went from brooder’s beard to carper’s skull, to remind, to chide them not unkindly, then to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned.
In the intense instant of imagination, when the mind, Shelley says, is a fading coal, that which I was is that which I am and that which in possibility I may come to be. The beautiful ineffectual dreamer who comes to grief against hard facts. Seven is dear to the mystic mind. Sufflaminandus sum.
Her death brought from him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus. Knowing no vixen, walking lonely in the chase. Has no-one made him out to be an Irishman? Judge Barton, I believe, is searching for some clues. Buck Mulligan flaunted his slip and panama.
I couldn’t bring him in to hear the discussion. But it was the original sin that darkened his understanding, weakened his will and left in him a strong inclination to evil. Jove, a cool ruttime send them. The Sea Venture comes home from Bermudas and the play Renan admired is written with Patsy Caliban, our American cousin. Why did he not leave her his best bed if he wished her to snore away the rest of her nights in peace?
Beyond Lundy Foot’s from the shaded door of Kavanagh’s winerooms John Wyse Nolan smiled with unseen coldness towards the lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland. Is that a fact? Without a doubt. Myler Keogh, Dublin’s pet lamb, will meet sergeantmajor Bennett, the Portobello bruiser, for a purse of fifty sovereigns. Listen: the man.
Well now, look at that. Chow!.. The little house. John Wyse Nolan, lagging behind, reading the list, came after them quickly down Cork hill.
Past Richmond bridge at the doorstep of the office of Reuben J Dodd, solicitor, agent for the Patriotic Insurance Company, an elderly female about to enter changed her plan and retracing her steps by King’s windows smiled credulously on the representative of His Majesty. Look, there’s all I have. Good afternoon, Mr Lambert. Mr Bloom read again: The beautiful woman.
All against us. No, sir. Over and done with. At the Howth road stop Father Conmee alighted, was saluted by the conductor and saluted in his turn.
Well, well. Passing by Roger Greene’s office and Dollard’s big red printinghouse Gerty MacDowell, carrying the Catesby’s cork lino letters for her father who was laid up, knew by the style it was the lord and lady lieutenant but she couldn’t see what Her Excellency had on because the tram and Spring’s big yellow furniture van had to stop in front of her on account of its being the lord lieutenant. His nostrils arched themselves for prey. Sin: Principes persecuti sunt me gratis: et a verbis tuis formidavit cor meum.
Lenehan walked on again. He should have read that before lunch. Do they notice I’m in mourning? Uncle Barney said he’d get it into the paper tonight. The boys sixeyed Father Conmee and laughed:
Reuben of that ilk. When is it? May the twentysecond. sarebbe un cespite di rendita, via. Were you in the Scotch house now?
O’Madden Burke is going to write something about it one of these days. A sailorman, rustbearded, sips from a beaker rum and eyes her. Never built under three guineas.
—Yes, sir, she said.
Must ask Ned Lambert to lend me those reminiscences of sir Jonah Barrington. You’re like the rest of them, are you? An insolent pack of little bitches since your poor mother died. His Excellency graciously returned Mr Dedalus’ greeting. He is going to write something in ten years.
In Clohissey’s window a faded 1860 print of Heenan boxing Sayers held his eye. Love, M.A., made obeisance unperceived, mindful of lords deputies whose hands benignant had held of yore rich advowsons. Lank coils of seaweed hair around me, my heart, my soul. And put down the five shillings too.
O, yes: a very great success. I’ll just take a thimbleful of your best gin, Mr Crimmins. Just nice time to walk to Artane.
—Gone to meet father, Maggy said.
Past Richmond bridge at the doorstep of the office of Reuben J Dodd, solicitor, agent for the Patriotic Insurance Company, an elderly female about to enter changed her plan and retracing her steps by King’s windows smiled credulously on the representative of His Majesty. Life and Miracles of the Curé of Ars. Come along. Towards Larry O’Rourke, in shirtsleeves in his doorway, he growled unamiably:
Heseltine, and also upon the honourable Gerald Ward A. Course they were on the wrong side. The viceroy, on his way to inaugurate the Mirus bazaar in aid of funds for Mercer’s hospital, drove with his following towards Lower Mount street. The telephone rang rudely by her ear.
Agenbite. Five shillings. He’s a cross between Lobengula and Lynchehaun.
—God bless you, Martin Cunningham said, cheerily.
Twentyseven and six. What was that boy’s name again? Dignam. Thumbed pages: read and read. Mrs Purefoy.
and the African mission and of the propagation of the faith and of the millions of black and brown and yellow souls that had not received the baptism of water when their last hour came like a thief in the night. Next week, say. Now, you’re talking straight, Mr Crimmins. He turned and halted by the slanted bookcart.
Father Conmee greeted them more than once benignly. Between Queen’s and Whitworth bridges lord Dudley’s viceregal carriages passed and were unsaluted by Mr Dudley White, B. I knocked against Bantam Lyons in there going to back a bloody horse someone gave him that hasn’t an earthly. Hope to goodness he won’t keep me here till seven.
One of those fellows got his hand nailed to the table by a dagger. Staring backers with square hats stood round the roped prizering. He met schoolboys with satchels.
—You could try our friend, Mr Power suggested backward.
Scaife, J. When you look back on it all now in a kind of retrospective arrangement. Seal of King David. John Mulligan, the manager of the Hibernian bank, gave me a very sharp eye yesterday on Carlisle bridge as if he remembered me.
Fishgluey slime (her heaving embonpoint!) Adderly and W. How to win a woman’s love. Very pleased to have met you.
He’s writing a book about the Fitzgeralds he told me. His collar too sprang up. For aged and virtuous females. The blind stripling turned his sickly face after the striding form.
Above the crossblind of the Ormond hotel, gold by bronze, Miss Kennedy’s head by Miss Douce’s head watched and admired. He pulled himself erect, went to it and, spinning it on its axle, viewed its shape and brass furnishings. Is that Ned Lambert’s brother over the way, Sam? What? Yes. There were fine plates in it worth double the money, the stars and the moon and comets with long tails. Father Conmee raised his hat to the Blessed Sacrament. We had a midnight lunch too after all the jollification and when we sallied forth it was blue o’clock the morning after the night before. Bloom and Chris Callinan were on one side of the car and I was with the wife on the other. Fair Tyrants by James Lovebirch. The landlord has the prior claim. Listen: the man.
Boiled shirt affair. Good for the country. A constable on his beat saluted Father Conmee and Father Conmee saluted the constable. For him! For Raoul!
Deep in Leinster street by Trinity’s postern a loyal king’s man, Hornblower, touched his tallyho cap. He turned to the right and on his right Master Dignam turned, his cap awry, his collar sticking up. You know that one? I’m bloody sorry I did it, says he, but I declare to God I thought the archbishop was inside. A skiff, a crumpled throwaway, Elijah is coming, rode lightly down the Liffey, under Loopline bridge, shooting the rapids where water chafed around the bridgepiers, sailing eastward past hulls and anchorchains, between the Customhouse old dock and George’s quay.
Shatter them, one and both. He told me to be a good son to ma. Fine poem that is: Ingram. Testily he made room for himself beside long John Fanning’s flank and passed in and up the stairs.
Here. Come upstairs for goodness’ sake till I sit down somewhere. Every jolt the bloody car gave I had her bumping up against me. I wrote to Father Conmee and laid the whole case before him.
Father Conmee greeted them more than once benignly. Greene B.A. He’s a cross between Lobengula and Lynchehaun.
—Give us it here.
A long and seafed silent rut. O’Neill’s funeral establishment where Corny Kelleher totted figures in the daybook while he chewed a blade of hay. Vere dignum et iustum est. A darkbacked figure under Merchants’ arch scanned books on the hawker’s cart.
Buttoning it down, his chin lifted, he saw the image of Marie Kendall, charming soubrette, beside the two puckers. Invincible ignorance. Chow!.. Say it’s turn six. I want to show you the new beauty Rock has for a bailiff. Somewhere here lord Edward Fitzgerald escaped from major Sirr. Armpits’ oniony sweat. Gallaher. Flesh yielded amply amid rumpled clothes: whites of eyes swooning up. Dust slept on dull coils of bronze and silver, lozenges of cinnabar, on rubies, leprous and winedark stones.
Lord Talbot de Malahide, immediate hereditary lord admiral of Malahide and the seas adjoining. If I could get that dressmaker to make a concertina skirt like Susy Nagle’s. That ruffian, that sham squire, with his violet gloves gave him away.
—Good day, Mr Subsheriff, Martin Cunningham said, as all halted and greeted.
You know why? Palm oil. No, sir. And the other little man? His name was Brunny Lynam.
—You could try our friend, Mr Power suggested backward.
Yes, indeed. Striding past Finn’s hotel Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell stared through a fierce eyeglass across the carriages at the head of Mr M. Here. His frocktails winked in bright sunshine to his fat strut.
Now, you’re talking straight, Mr Crimmins. Present address: Saint Michael’s, Sallins. Knight of the road. Does he write anything for your movement?
A woman’s hand flung forth a coin over the area railings. Life and Miracles of the Curé of Ars. Understanding, he shifted his tomes to his left breast and saluted the second carriage. Touch me not.
Lord Talbot de Malahide, immediate hereditary lord admiral of Malahide and the seas adjoining.
È peccato. He loved Ireland, he said, and he loved the Irish. I don’t think you knew him or perhaps you did, though.
He would go to Buxton probably for the waters. Yes, sir. John Henry Menton, filling the doorway of Commercial Buildings, stared from winebig oyster eyes, holding a fat gold hunter watch not looked at in his fat left hand not feeling it. By the provost’s wall came jauntily Blazes Boylan, stepping in tan shoes and socks with skyblue clocks to the refrain of My girl’s a Yorkshire girl.
Ma, dia retta a me. In here, see. sarebbe un cespite di rendita, via. As he came near Mr Dedalus greeted:
One of those manholes like a bloody gaspipe and there was the poor devil stuck down in it, half choked with sewer gas. Bawd and butcher were the words. In Fownes’s street Dilly Dedalus, straining her sight upward from Chardenal’s first French primer, saw sunshades spanned and wheelspokes spinning in the glare. Long John Fanning could not remember him.
Must ask Ned Lambert to lend me those reminiscences of sir Jonah Barrington. O’Madden Burke is going to write something about it one of these days. He thought, but not for long, of soldiers and sailors, whose legs had been shot off by cannonballs, ending their days in some pauper ward, and of cardinal Wolsey’s words: If I had served my God as I have served my king He would not have abandoned me in my old days. He had cleaned his teeth, he knew, with arecanut paste.
Your heart you sing of. The blind of the window was drawn aside. The little house. He is going to write something in ten years.
Jeffs, G. What is it? What’s the trouble? Wait awhile. Bring the camera whenever you like. O’Molloy he came forth slowly into Mary’s abbey where draymen were loading floats with sacks of carob and palmnut meal, O’Connor, Wexford.
At Ponsonby’s corner a jaded white flagon H. Beyond a doubt. The moral idea seems lacking, the sense of destiny, of retribution.
—I’m sure you have another shilling, Dilly said.
The Irish Beekeeper. Beyond Lundy Foot’s from the shaded door of Kavanagh’s winerooms John Wyse Nolan smiled with unseen coldness towards the lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland. because they have damn bad cakes.
—Woa, sonny!
Wait awhile.. His eyeglass flashed frowning in the sun. The blooming stud was too small for the buttonhole of the shirt, blooming end to it. Ben Dollard frowned and, making suddenly a chanter’s mouth, gave forth a deep note.
He turned to the right and on his right Master Dignam turned, his cap awry, his collar sticking up. Greene B.A. Those lovely curtains. Maggy, pouring yellow soup in Katey’s bowl, exclaimed:
The solemnity of the occupants of the car seemed to Father Conmee excessive for a journey so short and cheap. I told her of Paris. Agenbite. Munro and H. Here goes.
I say! Not yet awhile. And Mr Sheehy himself? Still in London. Next week, say. The man upstairs is dead.
Present address: Saint Michael’s, Sallins. Nice young chap he is. If I could get that dressmaker to make a concertina skirt like Susy Nagle’s. The cup that cheers but not inebriates, as the old saying has it.
29 Windsor avenue. Good afternoon, Mr Lambert. They kick out grand. Lawyers of the past, haughty, pleading, beheld pass from the consolidated taxing office to Nisi Prius court Richie Goulding carrying the costbag of Goulding, Collis and Ward and heard rustling from the admiralty division of king’s bench to the court of appeal an elderly female with false teeth smiling incredulously and a black silk skirt of great amplitude.
Secret of all secrets. Solomons in the window of the Austro-Hungarian viceconsulate. Sure, the blooming thing is all over. That’s a good one.
Huggard, started in pursuit. His nostrils arched themselves for prey. A card Unfurnished Apartments slipped from the sash and fell. I suppose all my books are gone.
Two bar entrance, soldiers half price. Do they notice I’m in mourning? Uncle Barney said he’d get it into the paper tonight. Solomons in the window of the Austro-Hungarian viceconsulate. He glanced sideways in the sunlight at M’Coy.
Ma, dia retta a me. because they have damn bad cakes. The lord mayor was there, Val Dillon it was, and sir Charles Cameron and Dan Dawson spoke and there was music.
—Barang!
Drop in whenever you like. What I can’t understand is how the inspectors ever allowed a boat like that.. Secret of all secrets. He took a red carnation from the tall stemglass.
He’s writing a book about the Fitzgeralds he told me.
Yet I’ve a sort of a
Yorkshire relish for
My little Yorkshire rose.
Yes, indeed. Mr Dedalus stared at him.
No cardsharping then. And the other little man? His name was Brunny Lynam. Say it’s turn six. Sin: Principes persecuti sunt me gratis: et a verbis tuis formidavit cor meum.
From the sidemirrors two mourning Masters Dignam gaped silently. As good as any other abbot’s charms, as mumbling Joachim’s. Low blackguardism! I’m going to get rid of you. Boody, breaking big chunks of bread into the yellow soup, added:
He knows them all, faith. Fishgluey slime (her heaving embonpoint!) I want to pop into Lynam’s to see Sceptre’s starting price.
—Bad cess to her big face! she cried.
This is the most historic spot in all Dublin. Then I can go after six if you’re not back. A sailorman, rustbearded, sips from a beaker rum and eyes her.
—Them are two good ones, he said.
As good as any other abbot’s charms, as mumbling Joachim’s. Those lovely curtains. Is he buried in saint Michan’s? Or no, there was a midnight burial in Glasnevin. Still, an act of perfect contrition.
Deep in Leinster street by Trinity’s postern a loyal king’s man, Hornblower, touched his tallyho cap. Deep in Leinster street by Trinity’s postern a loyal king’s man, Hornblower, touched his tallyho cap. Passing the ivy church he reflected that the ticket inspector usually made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket.
—You could try our friend, Mr Power suggested backward.
Who has passed here before me? How to soften chapped hands. In here, see. And old Barlow the macebearer laid up with asthma, no mace on the table, nothing in order, no quorum even, and Hutchinson, the lord mayor, in Llandudno and little Lorcan Sherlock doing locum tenens for him. Touch me not.
Come on. He mightn’t like it, though. Bloom was pointing out all the stars and the comets in the heavens to Chris Callinan and the jarvey: the great bear and Hercules and the dragon, and the whole jingbang lot. Boody sat down at the table and said hungrily:
But, by God, I was lost, so to speak, in the milky way. Crooked botched print. Greasy black rope. At the Howth road stop Father Conmee alighted, was saluted by the conductor and saluted in his turn.
He would go to Buxton probably for the waters. Venga a trovarmi e ci pensi. Beingless beings. He stood to read the card in his hand.
Next week, say. As the glossy horses pranced by Merrion square Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, waiting, saw salutes being given to the gent with the topper and raised also his new black cap with fingers greased by porksteak paper. He loved Ireland, he said, and he loved the Irish. Grandfather ape gloating on a stolen hoard.
And America they say is the land of the free. Is that Ned Lambert’s brother over the way, Sam? What? Yes. Good drop of gin, that was.
—That’s a fine day, Mr Kelleher.
Order. Well, so long. Thinking strictly prohibited. She darted, bronze, to the backmost corner, flattening her face against the pane in a halo of hurried breath.
Wonder who’s playing. Towncrier, bumbailiff. Tenors get wom. Bronze by the window, watched, bronze from afar.
Idolores. Warm. Bravo, Simon! Clapclopclap. Snivel. Sweet are the sweets.
Long John. Poor little nominedomine. Paying the piper. Douce gave full vent to a splendid yell, a full yell of full woman, delight, joy, indignation.
Who is this wrote? Know the name you know better. Sonnez la. Perfumed for him. to Flora’s lips did hie.
Callous: all for his own gut. Heard as a boy. A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all. The chords harped slower.
Tell me I want to. And then laughed more. His sins. He had received the rhino for the labour of his muse.
Atrot, in heat, heatseated. Pass by her. They want it. Tap.
Outtohelloutofthat. Shreds. I wanted to tell you. Tap. Drum? Pompedy. Cowley lay back.
Smell of burn. Clappyclapclap. All most too new call is lost in all. Like lady, ladylike.
Or had. And once at masstime he had gone to play. Two together nextdoor neighbours. Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray down to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, low.
Tap. A headland, a ship, a sail upon the billows. At me. Goodgod henev erheard inall.
Squealing cat. Too dear too near to home sweet home. Tuned probably.
—But look this way, he said, rose of Castile.
No trouble. But hear. Order. Uncertainly he waited. A croppy boy.
We never speak as we pass by. Gone. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. Who?
At four. To mind her stops. To keep it up. Come, Bob.
Beerpull. At four she. I wanted to tell you. A voiceless song sang from within, singing:
After her. He saw not gold. Town traveller. Exquisite contrast: bronzelid, minagold.
They like sad tail at end. A boy. Was it a daisy? Innocence that is. Tap.
Thinks he’ll win in Answers, poets’ picture puzzle. In the gods of the old Royal with little Peake. Is lost. Now silent air.
If they don’t see. Step in. Get shut of it. Unpleasant when it stops because you never know exac. Steak and kidney pie. Body of white woman, a flute alive. Pwee little wee. Look at the holy show I am. What?
I mean of course it’s all pom pom pom very much what they call da capo. The wife was playing the piano in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a very trifling consideration and who was it gave me the wheeze she was doing the other business? Do you remember? We had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap in Keogh’s gave us the number. That’s music too. Hushaby. Wish they’d sing more. Lay of the last minstrel he thought it was. Cowley sang:
Let my epitaph be. See me he might. Taking my motives he twined and turned them. Rrr.
Big spanishy eyes goggling at nothing. Crosseyed Walter sir I did sir. At four. Miss Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a snout in quest.
The tank. Now begging letters he sends his son with. Old Glynn fifty quid a year. Why do they hide their ears with seaweed hair? And Turks the mouth, why? Her eyes over the sheet. No, not tell all. Dignam. The night Si sang. all the way.
With look to look. Because I’m away from. She waved about her outspread Independent, searching, the lord lieutenant, her pinnacles of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten.
—There’s your teas, he said.
Ha. Like you men. I was thinking of your landlord. Damn her. For all things dying, for all things born. Wet night in the lane. Tap. In and out of sacks, over barrels, through wirefences, obstacle race. The morn. Kernan. Heard as a boy. Squealing cat. Go quick. Freer in air. Wagging his ear. You daren’t budge. Thinks he’ll win in Answers, poets’ picture puzzle. A cave. O’er ryehigh blue. By Bassi’s blessed virgins Bloom’s dark eyes went by. in nomine Domini, in God’s name he knelt. I remember those tight trousers too. By Graham Lemon’s pineapple rock, by Elvery’s elephant jingly jogged.
We two the last. Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the silent bluehued flowers. One, two. I too. Rollicking Richie once. Suppose she were the? No. Sees me, does she? Looks a fright in the day. He was not.
Cubicle number so and so. His gouty paws plumped chords. Molly, that hurdygurdy boy. Yellow, black lace she wore. God be with old times.
Tongue when she talks like the clapper of a bellows. Songs without words. Now in the Iveagh home. Sauce for the gander.
Half time, Ben. Musical. Too much trouble, first gentleman said. Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure’s skyblue bow and eyes.
She waved about her outspread Independent, searching, the lord lieutenant, her pinnacles of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten. Here, Pat, return. It is. To me, to him, to her, you too, me, us.
Just going to write. Has he forgotten? Perhaps a trick. Mournful he whistled. That brings those rakes of fellows in: her white.
He won’t give you any trouble, Bob. You bitch’s bast. Understand animals too that way. Horrid! And gold flushed more.
Music hath charms. Postal order, stamp. Want to keep your weathereye open. Have you the? Haw haw horn.
Hear! He heard. Tenors get wom. Infatuated. Pat, waiter, waited, waiting to hear, for he was hard of hear by the door.
Cloche. At four. Bothered, he wanted Power and cider. Look in here.
Question of mood you’re in. Chips. A cave. I looked so simple in the cradle they christened me simple Simon.
Tap. God made the country man the tune. Tinkling. He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal.
Chap in dresscircle staring down into her with his operaglass for all he was worth. At Passage was his body laid. Keep young.
—All is lost now.
A thrush. Improvising. Big Ben. But had to be.
Knock. Quotations every day in the year. And one day she with.
—I won’t listen, she cried.
His hands and feet sing too. Minuet of Don Giovanni he’s playing now. Clean here at least. How first he saw that form endearing, how sorrow seemed to part, how look, form, word charmed him Gould Lidwell, won Pat Bloom’s heart.
She gave her moist (a lady’s) hand to his firm clasp. Still hold her back. There? How do you? I do well.
—I see you have moved the piano.
On. Callous: all for his own gut. Get shut of it. And look at the lovely shell she brought.
Quick round. O, not in the least. Give him twopence tip. Where’s my hat. Bluerobed, white under, come to me. A husky fifenote blew.
It’s in the silence after you feel you hear. Not yet. Hee hee. Nice name he.
The name was familiar to him, that is to say. O saints above, I’m drenched! O, the women in the front row! O, I never laughed so many! Well, of course that’s what gives him the base barreltone. Useless pain. He, Mr Bloom, listened while he, Richie Goulding, told him, Mr Bloom, of the night he, Richie, heard him, Si Dedalus, sing ‘Twas rank and fame in his, Ned Lambert’s, house.
At four. Clean tables, flowers, mitres of napkins. Hee hee. Milly young student. A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose of Castile.
Wreck their lives. Wet night in the lane. Time ever passing. Sweet tea miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears with little fingers.
To, fro. Order. Poop of a lovely. Tap.
Lydia, admired, admired. One plus two plus six is seven. Risk it. All flushed (O!), panting, sweating (O!), all breathless.
I could. But hear. And The last rose of summer was a lovely song. Miss Mina Kennedy brought near her lips to ear of tankard one.
Snivel. Clove her breath was always in theatre when she bent to ask a question. What is he playing now? Improvising. God’s curse on bitch’s bastard.
General chorus off for a swill to wash it down. Base barreltone. Deepsounding. He was not.
Penny the gulls. You. O, she need not trouble. He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal.
Very sad thing. Tap. Musing.
—Ah me! O my!
Hoh. Cloche. He sang that song lovely, murmured Mina. Lying out on the strand all day.
With all his belongings on show. Songs without words. Walk, walk, walk. Ah, lure! Alluring.
Jingle. Wait, wait. No son.
—What is it? loud boots unmannerly asked.
Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, in desire, dark to lick flow invading. No son. How is that done? All lost now. Rrrrrr.
Her hand that rocks the cradle rules the. In haste. Nice touch. It’s on account of the sounds it is.
Seven Davy Byrne’s. Freer in air. A boy. Eyes like that. Jing. Exhausted, breathless, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the counterledge. Big Ben. Is eight about. Hypnotised, listening. Clock clacked. Touch water. With look to look. Where eat? The Clarence, Dolphin. Gets on your nerves. To, fro. That wonderworker if I had. She darted, bronze, to the backmost corner, flattening her face against the pane in a halo of hurried breath.
Laughter in court. High grade. Fff. But want a good memory.
Poor little nominedomine. That’s why. Second gentleman paid. Sour pipe removed he held a shield of hand beside his lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear, a call from afar, replying.
Let me see. Got up to kill: on eighteen bob a week. I’m warm, dark, open.
—Each graceful look...
Clappyclapclap. Yet more Bloom stretched his string. Old Bloom. Shebronze, dealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his lips, looked as it flowed (flower in his coat: who gave him?), and syrupped with her voice:
I think I’ll join you. La la la ree. Chorusgirl’s romance. A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose of Castile.
The violet silk petticoats. Robert Emmet’s last words. Woman. Curlycues of chords.
In his way. Has he forgotten? Perhaps a trick. Go quick. It soared, a bird, it held its flight, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding, sustained, to come, don’t spin it out too long long breath he breath long life, soaring high, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high in the effulgence symbolistic, high, of the etherial bosom, high, of the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the all, the endlessnessnessness...
He held unfurled his Freeman. They can’t manage men’s intervals. Jingling.
—Hold on, said Lenehan, till I...
What is she? Hope she. Softly he sang to a dusty seascape there: A Last Farewell. Ruttledge’s door: ee creaking. Bloom dipped, Bloo mur: dear sir. He held unfurled his Freeman. Who is this wrote? Know the name you know better. Just copy out of paper. Always find out this equal to that. Richie Goulding listened. Miss voice of Kennedy answered, a second teacup poised, her gaze upon a page:
Jokes old stale now. Bird sitting hatching in a nest. Could make a kind of pun on that. Goodgod henev erheard inall.
Lugugugubrious. Been to the seaside. She’s a.
—Ah me! O my!
I called you naughty boy. Four now. Waiting she sang.
—All is lost now.
Bright’s bright eye. Play on her heartstrings pursestrings too. Elijah is com. For Raoul. Fall quite flat. Henry. With faraway mourning mountain eye. Hissss.
Liszt’s rhapsodies. Knew Molly. They drank cool stout.
—Was Mr Boylan looking for me?
Peasants outside. Is that best side of her face? They always know. Not leave thee. Ah, what M’Guckin! Yes. General chorus off for a swill to wash it down. Musemathematics. Heard as a boy. Warm. Alacrity she served. Right. Your head it simply swurls. Maybe now. For them unheeding him he banged on the counter his tray of chattering china.
—Here’s fortune, Blazes said.
To me. Ha. On. Ow. In cry of lionel loneliness that she should know, must martha feel. Is that so? Diningroom. Those girls, those lovely. Nannetti’s father hawked those things about, wheedling at doors as I. Knows whatever note you play. Hypnotised, listening. Music. Pray for him! Pray, good people!
I could not see. See. He drank.
—By God, she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there.
But how? She must. Better add postscript. I wanted to tell you. Prrprr.
Jolly for the wife. Cool hands. Avowal. Lenehan heard and knew and hailed him:
F.; the rev. I called about the poor and water rate, Mr Boylan. John Lavery, V. J.
Night he was near being lagged only Paddy Leonard knew the bobby, 14A. A torrential rain poured down from the floodgates of the angry heavens upon the bared heads of the assembled multitude which numbered at the lowest computation five hundred thousand persons. In the mild breezes of the west and of the east the lofty trees wave in different directions their firstclass foliage, the wafty sycamore, the Lebanonian cedar, the exalted planetree, the eugenic eucalyptus and other ornaments of the arboreal world with which that region is thoroughly well supplied. Gob, he’s like Lanty MacHale’s goat that’d go a piece of the road with every one.
What?.. You love a certain person. In the mild breezes of the west and of the east the lofty trees wave in different directions their firstclass foliage, the wafty sycamore, the Lebanonian cedar, the exalted planetree, the eugenic eucalyptus and other ornaments of the arboreal world with which that region is thoroughly well supplied. From the reports of eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves were accompanied by a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic character. Norman W.
—Bloody wars, says I, I’ll be in for the last gospel.
I called about the poor and water rate, Mr Boylan. getting him off the grand jury list and the other give him a leg over the stile. A many comely nymphs drew nigh to starboard and to larboard and, clinging to the sides of the noble bark, they linked their shining forms as doth the cunning wheelwright when he fashions about the heart of his wheel the equidistant rays whereof each one is sister to another and he binds them all with an outer ring and giveth speed to the feet of men whenas they ride to a hosting or contend for the smile of ladies fair. Give him a rousing fine kick now and again where it wouldn’t blind him.
Old lardyface standing up to the business end of a gun. p: up. Isn’t that what we’re told. Near ate the tin and all, hungry bloody mongrel.
C.; the rev. It was then queried whether there were any special desires on the part of the defunct and the reply was: We greet you, friends of earth, who are still in the body. Colman and S. I hear he’s running a concert tour now up in the north.
Boosed at five o’clock. Blind to the world up in a shebeen in Bride street after closing time, fornicating with two shawls and a bully on guard, drinking porter out of teacups. Interrogated as to whether life there resembled our experience in the flesh he stated that he had heard from more favoured beings now in the spirit that their abodes were equipped with every modern home comfort such as talafana, alavatar, hatakalda, wataklasat and that the highest adepts were steeped in waves of volupcy of the very purest nature.
—Hurrah, there, says Joe.
I feel I cannot usefully add anything to that. We must be quick. Jesus, I couldn’t get over that bloody foxy Geraghty, the daylight robber. An illuminated scroll of ancient Irish vellum, the work of Irish artists, was presented to the distinguished phenomenologist on behalf of a large section of the community and was accompanied by the gift of a silver casket, tastefully executed in the style of ancient Celtic ornament, a work which reflects every credit on the makers, Messrs Jacob agus Jacob. Do you know what I’m telling you? It’d be an act of God to take a hold of a fellow the like of that and throw him in the bloody sea. Cleary, O. O God, I’ve a pain laughing. And he after stuffing himself till he’s fit to burst. Robbing Peter to pay Paul. and C. Wolstan: and Ignatius his children: and the confraternity of the christian brothers led by the reverend brother Edmund Ignatius Rice. Isidore Arator and S. Look at this, says he. Senan and S. Klook Klook Klook.
And sure, more be token, the lout I’m told was in Power’s after, the blender’s, round in Cope street going home footless in a cab five times in the week after drinking his way through all the samples in the bloody establishment. Jumbo, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant. P., J. At this very moment, says he, putting up his fist, sold by auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle.
Encouraged by this use of her christian name she kissed passionately all the various suitable areas of his person which the decencies of prison garb permitted her ardour to reach. Do you know what I’m telling you? It’d be an act of God to take a hold of a fellow the like of that and throw him in the bloody sea. Do you know what I’m telling you? It’d be an act of God to take a hold of a fellow the like of that and throw him in the bloody sea. What will you have?
Fleet was his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. I’d train him by kindness, so I would, if he was my dog. Their mudcabins and their shielings by the roadside were laid low by the batteringram and the Times rubbed its hands and told the whitelivered Saxons there would soon be as few Irish in Ireland as redskins in America. Growling and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the hydrophobia dropping out of his jaws.
On a handsome mahogany table near him were neatly arranged the quartering knife, the various finely tempered disembowelling appliances (specially supplied by the worldfamous firm of cutlers, Messrs John Round and Sons, Sheffield), a terra cotta saucepan for the reception of the duodenum, colon, blind intestine and appendix etc when successfully extracted and two commodious milkjugs destined to receive the most precious blood of the most precious victim. That’ll do now. After a brisk exchange of courtesies during which a smart upper cut of the military man brought blood freely from his opponent’s mouth the lamb suddenly waded in all over his man and landed a terrific left to Battling Bennett’s stomach, flooring him flat.
—Well, that’s a point, says Bloom, for the wife’s admirers.
Vincent de Paul and S. Owen Caniculus and S. The venerable president of the noble order was in the chair and the attendance was of large dimensions. Christ was a jew like me.
Fay, T. J., if they’re any worse than those Belgians in the Congo Free State they must be bad. In reply to a question as to his first sensations in the great divide beyond he stated that previously he had seen as in a glass darkly but that those who had passed over had summit possibilities of atmic development opened up to them.
—Slan leat, says he.
J., L. Questioned by his earthname as to his whereabouts in the heavenworld he stated that he was now on the path of pralaya or return but was still submitted to trial at the hands of certain bloodthirsty entities on the lower astral levels. Black Liz is our hen. God, I’d give anything to hear him before a judge and jury.
Yes, a kind of summer tour, you see. doesn’t pile it on. You what? The water rate, Mr Boylan. Sure enough the castle car drove up with Martin on it and Jack Power with him and a fellow named Crofter or Crofton, pensioner out of the collector general’s, an orangeman Blackburn does have on the registration and he drawing his pay or Crawford gallivanting around the country at the king’s expense.
The widewinged nostrils, from which bristles of the same tawny hue projected, were of such capaciousness that within their cavernous obscurity the fieldlark might easily have lodged her nest. Myler quickly became busy and got his man under, the bout ending with the bulkier man on the ropes, Myler punishing him. Gob, if he got that lottery ticket on the side of his poll he’d remember the gold cup, he would so, but begob the citizen would have been lagged for assault and battery and Joe for aiding and abetting. Pistachios!
Bloom, who met with a mixed reception of applause and hisses, having espoused the negative the vocalist chairman brought the discussion to a close, in response to repeated requests and hearty plaudits from all parts of a bumper house, by a remarkably noteworthy rendering of the immortal Thomas Osborne Davis’ evergreen verses (happily too familiar to need recalling here) A nation once again in the execution of which the veteran patriot champion may be said without fear of contradiction to have fairly excelled himself. And there sat with him the high sinhedrim of the twelve tribes of Iar, for every tribe one man, of the tribe of Patrick and of the tribe of Hugh and of the tribe of Owen and of the tribe of Conn and of the tribe of Oscar and of the tribe of Fergus and of the tribe of Finn and of the tribe of Dermot and of the tribe of Cormac and of the tribe of Kevin and of the tribe of Caolte and of the tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and true. Aloysius Gonzaga and S.
—There he is again, says the citizen, staring out.
I mean the opposite of hatred. L., Mus. Flavin, C. And my wife has the typhoid.
One of those mixed middlings he is. Cyr and S. And calling himself a Frenchy for the shawls, Joseph Manuo, and talking against the Catholic religion, and he serving mass in Adam and Eve’s when he was young with his eyes shut, who wrote the new testament, and the old testament, and hugging and smugging.
—Do you call that a man? says the citizen.
The eyes in which a tear and a smile strove ever for the mastery were of the dimensions of a goodsized cauliflower. The traitor’s son. Gob, he’d adorn a sweepingbrush, so he would, if he only had a nurse’s apron on him. And heroes voyage from afar to woo them, from Eblana to Slievemargy, the peerless princes of unfettered Munster and of Connacht the just and of smooth sleek Leinster and of Cruachan’s land and of Armagh the splendid and of the noble district of Boyle, princes, the sons of kings.
And one time he led him the rounds of Dublin and, by the holy farmer, he never cried crack till he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn’t near roast him, it’s a queer story, the old one, Bloom’s wife and Mrs O’Dowd that kept the hotel. Small whisky and bottle of Allsop. The redcoat ducked but the Dubliner lifted him with a left hook, the body punch being a fine one.
—Hello, Ned.
Simon Stylites and S. Picture of him on the wall with his Smashall Sweeney’s moustaches, the signior Brini from Summerhill, the eyetallyano, papal Zouave to the Holy Father, has left the quay and gone to Moss street. James Murphy, S. So he starts telling us about corporal punishment and about the crew of tars and officers and rearadmirals drawn up in cocked hats and the parson with his protestant bible to witness punishment and a young lad brought out, howling for his ma, and they tie him down on the buttend of a gun.
Phocas of Sinope and S. Do you know what I’m telling you? It’d be an act of God to take a hold of a fellow the like of that and throw him in the bloody sea. That likes me well.
—There’s one thing it hasn’t a deterrent effect on, says Alf.
In reply to a question as to his first sensations in the great divide beyond he stated that previously he had seen as in a glass darkly but that those who had passed over had summit possibilities of atmic development opened up to them. Interrogated as to whether life there resembled our experience in the flesh he stated that he had heard from more favoured beings now in the spirit that their abodes were equipped with every modern home comfort such as talafana, alavatar, hatakalda, wataklasat and that the highest adepts were steeped in waves of volupcy of the very purest nature. No, sir, I’ll make no order for payment. But Bob Doran shouts out of him.
No need to dwell on the legendary beauty of the cornerpieces, the acme of art, wherein one can distinctly discern each of the four evangelists in turn presenting to each of the four masters his evangelical symbol, a bogoak sceptre, a North American puma (a far nobler king of beasts than the British article, be it said in passing), a Kerry calf and a golden eagle from Carrantuohill. And the Saviour was a jew and his father was a jew. That’s quite true.
—Sure I’m after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf, as plain as a pikestaff.
The baby policeman, Constable MacFadden, summoned by special courier from Booterstown, quickly restored order and with lightning promptitude proposed the seventeenth of the month as a solution equally honourable for both contending parties. The Englishman, whose right eye was nearly closed, took his corner where he was liberally drenched with water and when the bell went came on gamey and brimful of pluck, confident of knocking out the fistic Eblanite in jigtime. The housesteward of the amalgamated cats’ and dogs’ home was in attendance to convey these vessels when replenished to that beneficent institution. You wouldn’t see a trace of them or their language anywhere in Europe except in a cabinet d’aisance.
Beneath this he wore trews of deerskin, roughly stitched with gut. Anonymous and S. An you be the king’s messengers (God shield His Majesty!) you shall not want for aught. Tonguetied sons of bastards’ ghosts.
Mary of Egypt and S. Pisser Burke was telling me in the hotel the wife used to be in rivers of tears some times with Mrs O’Dowd crying her eyes out with her eight inches of fat all over her. The courthouse is a blind. And every jew is in a tall state of excitement, I believe, till he knows if he’s a father or a mother.
C.; the rev. Questioned by his earthname as to his whereabouts in the heavenworld he stated that he was now on the path of pralaya or return but was still submitted to trial at the hands of certain bloodthirsty entities on the lower astral levels. Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres. So they started talking about capital punishment and of course Bloom comes out with the why and the wherefore and all the codology of the business and the old dog smelling him all the time I’m told those jewies does have a sort of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about I don’t know what all deterrent effect and so forth and so on.
Richard and S. Theodotus and S. Klook Klook Klook. Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn’t clap him in the dock the other day for suing poor little Gumley that’s minding stones, for the corporation there near Butt bridge.
And when the good fathers had reached the appointed place, the house of Bernard Kiernan and Co, limited, 8, 9 and 10 little Britain street, wholesale grocers, wine and brandy shippers, licensed fo the sale of beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the premises, the celebrant blessed the house and censed the mullioned windows and the groynes and the vaults and the arrises and the capitals and the pediments and the cornices and the engrailed arches and the spires and the cupolas and sprinkled the lintels thereof with blessed water and prayed that God might bless that house as he had blessed the house of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and make the angels of His light to inhabit therein. The ceremony which went off with great éclat was characterised by the most affecting cordiality. J., if they’re any worse than those Belgians in the Congo Free State they must be bad. A fellow writes that calls himself Disgusted One.
Leugarde and S. A torrential rain poured down from the floodgates of the angry heavens upon the bared heads of the assembled multitude which numbered at the lowest computation five hundred thousand persons. Teach your grandmother how to milk ducks. You were and a bloody sight better.
Julian Hospitator and S. Because the poor animals suffer and experts say and the best known remedy that doesn’t cause pain to the animal and on the sore spot administer gently. I must go now, says he to John Wyse.
—Don’t tell anyone, says the citizen,
You love a certain person. How are the mighty fallen! Collector of bad and doubtful debts. Our harbours that are empty will be full again, Queenstown, Kinsale, Galway, Blacksod Bay, Ventry in the kingdom of Kerry, Killybegs, the third largest harbour in the wide world with a fleet of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O’Reillys and the O’Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with the emperor Charles the Fifth himself. Nat.): Have similar orders been issued for the slaughter of human animals who dare to play Irish games in the Phoenix park?
Cyr and S. From the reports of eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves were accompanied by a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic character. Synonymous and S. And thereafter in that fruitful land the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly.
Scally, P. And Bloom with his but don’t you see? and but on the other hand. William Doherty, D.
—Hurrah, there, says Joe.
He drink me my teas. I couldn’t phone. Eh? Deaths. Ireland sober is Ireland free. And the Saviour was a jew and his father was a jew. What? Swindled them all, skivvies and badhachs from the county Meath, ay, and his own kidney too. Christ was a jew like me.
Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S. Cows in Connacht have long horns. The departing guest was the recipient of a hearty ovation, many of those who were present being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck up the wellknown strains of Come Back to Erin, followed immediately by Rakóczsy’s March.
—There he is again, says the citizen, staring out.
I met Bantam Lyons going to back that horse only I put him off it and he told me Bloom gave him the tip. And begob what was it only that bloody old pantaloon Denis Breen in his bathslippers with two bloody big books tucked under his oxter and the wife hotfoot after him, unfortunate wretched woman, trotting like a poodle. Ferreol and S. The adulteress and her paramour brought the Saxon robbers here.
M.; the rev. Fiacre and S. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Hello, Bloom, says he, what will you have?
Jarlath of Tuam and S. They were driven out of house and home in the black 47. Do you know what I’m telling you? It’d be an act of God to take a hold of a fellow the like of that and throw him in the bloody sea.
—What say you, good masters, to a squab pigeon pasty, some collops of venison, a saddle of veal, widgeon with crisp hog’s bacon, a boar’s head with pistachios, a bason of jolly custard, a medlar tansy and a flagon of old Rhenish?
Hell upon earth it is. Cornelius and S. Concert tour. So he starts telling us about corporal punishment and about the crew of tars and officers and rearadmirals drawn up in cocked hats and the parson with his protestant bible to witness punishment and a young lad brought out, howling for his ma, and they tie him down on the buttend of a gun.
P.; the rev. Gob, he’d let you pour all manner of drink down his throat till the Lord would call him before you’d ever see the froth of his pint. Such is life in an outhouse. D., M. The pledgebound party on the floor of the house. An instantaneous change overspread the landlord’s visage.
as to whether the eighth or the ninth of March was the correct date of the birth of Ireland’s patron saint. Questioned by his earthname as to his whereabouts in the heavenworld he stated that he was now on the path of pralaya or return but was still submitted to trial at the hands of certain bloodthirsty entities on the lower astral levels. Talking through his bloody hat.
—What’s your opinion of the times?
getting him off the grand jury list and the other give him a leg over the stile. And the Saviour was a jew and his father was a jew. Even so did they come and set them, those willing nymphs, the undying sisters.
—Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.
P., M. Glendalough, the lovely lakes of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland’s Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company (Limited), Lough Neagh’s banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde’s tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun’s hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch’s castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury’s Hotel, S. The eyes in which a tear and a smile strove ever for the mastery were of the dimensions of a goodsized cauliflower. The goodness of your heart, I feel sure, will dictate to you better than my inadequate words the expressions which are most suitable to convey an emotion whose poignancy, were I to give vent to my feelings, would deprive me even of speech.
O., S. Martin, 77, 78, 79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the Duke of Cornwall’s light infantry under the general supervision of H. What? O, Jesus, he did.
—Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar and convert us, says the citizen, after allowing things like that to contaminate our shores.
L., Mus. It implies that he is not compos mentis. Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres.
—No, says Joe.
William Doherty, D. The viceregal houseparty which included many wellknown ladies was chaperoned by Their Excellencies to the most favourable positions on the grandstand while the picturesque foreign delegation known as the Friends of the Emerald Isle was accommodated on a tribune directly opposite. Fiacre and S.
—Half one, says Ned.
And round he goes to Bob Doran that was standing Alf a half one sucking up for what he could get. The signal for prayer was then promptly given by megaphone and in an instant all heads were bared, the commendatore’s patriarchal sombrero, which has been in the possession of his family since the revolution of Rienzi, being removed by his medical adviser in attendance, Dr Pippi. Throwaway, says he. Why?
Amid cheers that rent the welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, the mastodontic pleasureship slowly moved away saluted by a final floral tribute from the representatives of the fair sex who were present in large numbers while, as it proceeded down the river, escorted by a flotilla of barges, the flags of the Ballast office and Custom House were dipped in salute as were also those of the electrical power station at the Pigeonhouse and the Poolbeg Light. No security. Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five on.
—By Jesus, says he, I’ll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name.
P.; the very rev. And she with her nose cockahoop after she married him because a cousin of his old fellow’s was pewopener to the pope. Messages of condolence and sympathy are being hourly received from all parts of the different continents and the sovereign pontiff has been graciously pleased to decree that a special missa pro defunctis shall be celebrated simultaneously by the ordinaries of each and every cathedral church of all the episcopal dioceses subject to the spiritual authority of the Holy See in suffrage of the souls of those faithful departed who have been so unexpectedly called away from our midst. Klook Klook Klook.
Lying up in the hotel Pisser was telling me once a month with headache like a totty with her courses. Who wants your opinion? Let us drink our pints in peace. Where are the Greek merchants that came through the pillars of Hercules, the Gibraltar now grabbed by the foe of mankind, with gold and Tyrian purple to sell in Wexford at the fair of Carmen? Read Tacitus and Ptolemy, even Giraldus Cambrensis. I’m hanging on to his taw now for the past fortnight and I can’t get a penny out of him.
The man in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat. O’Neill’s popular funeral establishment, a personal friend of the defunct, who had been responsible for the carrying out of the interment arrangements. I met him one day in the south city markets buying a tin of Neave’s food six weeks before the wife was delivered.
They were driven out of house and home in the black 47. D.; the rev. The bride who was given away by her father, the M’Conifer of the Glands, looked exquisitely charming in a creation carried out in green mercerised silk, moulded on an underslip of gloaming grey, sashed with a yoke of broad emerald and finished with a triple flounce of darkerhued fringe, the scheme being relieved by bretelles and hip insertions of acorn bronze. Island of saints and sages!
Entertainment for man and beast. Mercy of God the sun was in his eyes or he’d have left him for dead. What’s your programme today? Ay. Drive ahead.
Cute as a shithouse rat. Bride and S. And the old prostitute of a mother procuring rooms to street couples.
—Well, he’s going off by the mailboat, says Joe, tonight.
William Delany, S. The pledgebound party on the floor of the house. Old Mr Verschoyle with the ear trumpet loves old Mrs Verschoyle with the turnedin eye. But where is he? We can’t wait.
I couldn’t phone. But anon they were overcome with grief and clasped their hands for the last time. She lays eggs for us. Defrauding widows and orphans.
Lovely maidens sit in close proximity to the roots of the lovely trees singing the most lovely songs while they play with all kinds of lovely objects as for example golden ingots, silvery fishes, crans of herrings, drafts of eels, codlings, creels of fingerlings, purple seagems and playful insects. He was bloody safe he wasn’t run in himself under the act that time as a rogue and vagabond only he had a friend in court. Throwaway, says he.
—With Dignam, says Alf.
A many comely nymphs drew nigh to starboard and to larboard and, clinging to the sides of the noble bark, they linked their shining forms as doth the cunning wheelwright when he fashions about the heart of his wheel the equidistant rays whereof each one is sister to another and he binds them all with an outer ring and giveth speed to the feet of men whenas they ride to a hosting or contend for the smile of ladies fair. Talking about new Ireland he ought to go and get a new dog so he ought. It was exactly seventeen o’clock. And Joe asked him would he have another.
Big strong men, officers of the peace and genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary, were making frank use of their handkerchiefs and it is safe to say that there was not a dry eye in that record assemblage. It was then queried whether there were any special desires on the part of the defunct and the reply was: We greet you, friends of earth, who are still in the body. An illuminated scroll of ancient Irish vellum, the work of Irish artists, was presented to the distinguished phenomenologist on behalf of a large section of the community and was accompanied by the gift of a silver casket, tastefully executed in the style of ancient Celtic ornament, a work which reflects every credit on the makers, Messrs Jacob agus Jacob. Or so they allege.
Heenan and Sayers was only a bloody fool to it. at the corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but a bloody sweep came along and he near drove his gear into my eye. Jarlath of Tuam and S. How’s that for a national press, eh, my brown son! How’s that for Martin Murphy, the Bantry jobber?
Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O’Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O’Sullivan Beare. Slattery, O. Jesus, there’s always some bloody clown or other kicking up a bloody murder about bloody nothing. Gob, the devil wouldn’t stop him till he got hold of the bloody tin anyhow and out with him and little Alf hanging on to his elbow and he shouting like a stuck pig, as good as any bloody play in the Queen’s royal theatre:
Ga ga ga ga Gara. Jumbo, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant. John of God and S. and S.
What’s your name, sir? Dunne, says he. A pleasant land it is in sooth of murmuring waters, fishful streams where sport the gurnard, the plaice, the roach, the halibut, the gibbed haddock, the grilse, the dab, the brill, the flounder, the pollock, the mixed coarse fish generally and other denizens of the aqueous kingdom too numerous to be enumerated. Quite an excellent repast consisting of rashers and eggs, fried steak and onions, done to a nicety, delicious hot breakfast rolls and invigorating tea had been considerately provided by the authorities for the consumption of the central figure of the tragedy who was in capital spirits when prepared for death and evinced the keenest interest in the proceedings from beginning to end but he, with an abnegation rare in these our times, rose nobly to the occasion and expressed the dying wish (immediately acceded to) that the meal should be divided in aliquot parts among the members of the sick and indigent roomkeepers’ association as a token of his regard and esteem. Hickey, O. Force, hatred, history, all that.
—How’s Willy Murray those times, Alf?
There sleep the mighty dead as in life they slept, warriors and princes of high renown. And straightway the minions of the law led forth from their donjon keep one whom the sleuthhounds of justice had apprehended in consequence of information received. Then see him of a Sunday with his little concubine of a wife, and she wagging her tail up the aisle of the chapel with her patent boots on her, no less, and her violets, nice as pie, doing the little lady. was telling us there was an ancient Hebrew Zaretsky or something weeping in the witnessbox with his hat on him, swearing by the holy Moses he was stuck for two quid.
Finbarr and S. Considerable amusement was caused by the favourite Dublin streetsingers L-n-h-n and M-ll-g-n who sang The Night before Larry was stretched in their usual mirth-provoking fashion. The maids of honour, Miss Larch Conifer and Miss Spruce Conifer, sisters of the bride, wore very becoming costumes in the same tone, a dainty motif of plume rose being worked into the pleats in a pinstripe and repeated capriciously in the jadegreen toques in the form of heron feathers of paletinted coral. Save the trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of Eire, O.
A rank outsider. Waters, C. Arsing around from one pub to another, leaving it to your own honour, with old Giltrap’s dog and getting fed up by the ratepayers and corporators. O, as true as I’m telling you. Hell upon earth it is. And sure, more be token, the lout I’m told was in Power’s after, the blender’s, round in Cope street going home footless in a cab five times in the week after drinking his way through all the samples in the bloody establishment. Ay, they drove out the peasants in hordes. You should have seen long John’s eye. Gara. Big strong men, officers of the peace and genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary, were making frank use of their handkerchiefs and it is safe to say that there was not a dry eye in that record assemblage. The traitor’s son. You whatwhat? That’s the bucko that’ll organise her, take my tip. John Lavery, V. Columcille and S. Moya. It was a knockout clean and clever. Jack Mooney’s sister. The scenes depicted on the emunctory field, showing our ancient duns and raths and cromlechs and grianauns and seats of learning and maledictive stones, are as wonderfully beautiful and the pigments as delicate as when the Sligo illuminators gave free rein to their artistic fantasy long long ago in the time of the Barmecides. The exhibition, which is the result of years of training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary system, comprises, among other achievements, the recitation of verse. Jesus, I had to laugh at the little jewy getting his shirt out. A lot of Deadwood Dicks in slouch hats and they firing at a Sambo strung up in a tree with his tongue out and a bonfire under him.
—By Jesus, says he, I’ll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name.
Gall and S. D.; the rev. Because he was up one time in a knacker’s yard.
‘Twixt me and you Caddareesh.
Frigidian and S. An you be the king’s messengers (God shield His Majesty!) you shall not want for aught. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. And then he starts with his jawbreakers about phenomenon and science and this phenomenon and the other phenomenon.
His superb highclass vocalism, which by its superquality greatly enhanced his already international reputation, was vociferously applauded by the large audience among which were to be noticed many prominent members of the clergy as well as representatives of the press and the bar and the other learned professions. Fleet was his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. Any civilisation they have they stole from us.
—You? says Joe.
She’s singing, yes. That bloody old fool! Ten thousand pounds. The departing guest was the recipient of a hearty ovation, many of those who were present being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck up the wellknown strains of Come Back to Erin, followed immediately by Rakóczsy’s March.
—Very kind of you, says Bloom.
A lot of Deadwood Dicks in slouch hats and they firing at a Sambo strung up in a tree with his tongue out and a bonfire under him. No. What? Do you see any green in the white of my eye? Course it was a bloody barney.
—Half one, says Ned.
Felix de Cantalice and S. He was bloody safe he wasn’t run in himself under the act that time as a rogue and vagabond only he had a friend in court. He puts his hand under black Liz and takes her fresh egg. Gob, he near burnt his fingers with the butt of his old cigar.
Hanging? Wait till I show you. And they rose in their seats, those twelve of Iar, and they swore by the name of Him Who is from everlasting that they would do His rightwiseness. With his name in Stubbs’s. A poor house and a bare larder, quotha! ‘Tis a merry rogue.
The soldier got to business, leading off with a powerful left jab to which the Irish gladiator retaliated by shooting out a stiff one flush to the point of Bennett’s jaw. F.; the very rev. Theodotus and S. And by that way wend the herds innumerable of bellwethers and flushed ewes and shearling rams and lambs and stubble geese and medium steers and roaring mares and polled calves and longwools and storesheep and Cuffe’s prime springers and culls and sowpigs and baconhogs and the various different varieties of highly distinguished swine and Angus heifers and polly bulllocks of immaculate pedigree together with prime premiated milchcows and beeves: and there is ever heard a trampling, cackling, roaring, lowing, bleating, bellowing, rumbling, grunting, champing, chewing, of sheep and pigs and heavyhooved kine from pasturelands of Lusk and Rush and Carrickmines and from the streamy vales of Thomond, from the M’Gillicuddy’s reeks the inaccessible and lordly Shannon the unfathomable, and from the gentle declivities of the place of the race of Kiar, their udders distended with superabundance of milk and butts of butter and rennets of cheese and farmer’s firkins and targets of lamb and crannocks of corn and oblong eggs in great hundreds, various in size, the agate with this dun.
There master Courtenay, sitting in his own chamber, gave his rede and master Justice Andrews, sitting without a jury in the probate court, weighed well and pondered the claim of the first chargeant upon the property in the matter of the will propounded and final testamentary disposition in re the real and personal estate of the late lamented Jacob Halliday, vintner, deceased, versus Livingstone, an infant, of unsound mind, and another. Anonymous and S. Denis and S. May your shadow never grow less.
Ah, yes. As he awaited the fatal signal he tested the edge of his horrible weapon by honing it upon his brawny forearm or decapitated in rapid succession a flock of sheep which had been provided by the admirers of his fell but necessary office. It was held to be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v.
—And there’s more where that came from, says he.
He announced his presence by that gentle Rumboldian cough which so many have tried (unsuccessfully) to imitate—short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man. Dympna and S. Bride and S. And to the solemn court of Green street there came sir Frederick the Falconer. G., F. Purcell, O. The Alaki then drank a lovingcup of firstshot usquebaugh to the toast Black and White from the skull of his immediate predecessor in the dynasty Kakachakachak, surnamed Forty Warts, after which he visited the chief factory of Cottonopolis and signed his mark in the visitors’ book, subsequently executing a charming old Abeakutic wardance, in the course of which he swallowed several knives and forks, amid hilarious applause from the girl hands.
And last, beneath a canopy of cloth of gold came the reverend Father O’Flynn attended by Malachi and Patrick. And who was sitting up there in the corner that I hadn’t seen snoring drunk blind to the world only Bob Doran. Peter Fagan, O.
—With Dignam, says Alf.
Remember Limerick and the broken treatystone. I saw him up at that meeting now with William Field, M. And last, beneath a canopy of cloth of gold came the reverend Father O’Flynn attended by Malachi and Patrick.
—Don’t tell anyone, says the citizen,
The hero folded her willowy form in a loving embrace murmuring fondly Sheila, my own. Timothy canon Gorman, P. Black Liz is our hen. And the bloody dog woke up and let a growl.
P., M. Gob, he golloped it down like old boots and his tongue hanging out of him a yard long for more. Mgr M’Manus, V. We know what put English gold in his pocket.
Where are the Greek merchants that came through the pillars of Hercules, the Gibraltar now grabbed by the foe of mankind, with gold and Tyrian purple to sell in Wexford at the fair of Carmen? Read Tacitus and Ptolemy, even Giraldus Cambrensis. Hanging? Wait till I show you. An animated altercation (in which all took part) ensued among the F.
—Hurry up, Terry boy, says Alf.
I was in Europe with Kevin Egan of Paris. William Doherty, D. Flanagan, C. So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom.
Gob, Jack made him toe the line. Humane methods. I was born here.
—Anyhow, says Joe, Field and Nannetti are going over tonight to London to ask about it on the floor of the house of commons.
Your God was a jew. Constable MacFadden was heartily congratulated by all the F. How is your testament? Have you got an old testament? Only Paddy was passing there, I tell you what.
—It’s the Russians wish to tyrannise.
What?.. But those that came to the land of the free remember the land of bondage. There’s no-one as blind as the fellow that won’t see, if you know what that means.
—Well, says the citizen, what’s the latest from the scene of action? What did those tinkers in the city hall at their caucus meeting decide about the Irish language?
All the lordly residences in the vicinity of the palace of justice were demolished and that noble edifice itself, in which at the time of the catastrophe important legal debates were in progress, is literally a mass of ruins beneath which it is to be feared all the occupants have been buried alive. B., D. Jack Mooney’s sister. So saying he knocked loudly with his swordhilt upon the open lattice.
She brought back to his recollection the happy days of blissful childhood together on the banks of Anna Liffey when they had indulged in the innocent pastimes of the young and, oblivious of the dreadful present, they both laughed heartily, all the spectators, including the venerable pastor, joining in the general merriment. Martin of Todi and S. Our harbours that are empty will be full again, Queenstown, Kinsale, Galway, Blacksod Bay, Ventry in the kingdom of Kerry, Killybegs, the third largest harbour in the wide world with a fleet of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O’Reillys and the O’Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with the emperor Charles the Fifth himself.
—Drinking his own stuff? says Joe.
The delegation, present in full force, consisted of Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone (the semiparalysed doyen of the party who had to be assisted to his seat by the aid of a powerful steam crane), Monsieur Pierrepaul Petitépatant, the Grandjoker Vladinmire Pokethankertscheff, the Archjoker Leopold Rudolph von Schwanzenbad-Hodenthaler, Countess Marha Virága Kisászony Putrápesthi, Hiram Y. The laity included P. She lays eggs for us. And Joe asked him would he have another.
And Bloom, of course, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face. Fr. Old Whatwhat. Assurances were given that the matter would be attended to and it was intimated that this had given satisfaction.
Waters, C. Night he was near being lagged only Paddy Leonard knew the bobby, 14A. Blind to the world up in a shebeen in Bride street after closing time, fornicating with two shawls and a bully on guard, drinking porter out of teacups.
—Stop! Stop! says Joe.
James of Dingle and Compostella and S. Eponymous and S. Do you know that he’s balmy? Look at his head.
—Dominus vobiscum.
Barbara and S. John Lavery, V. loves a fair gentleman. And says he:
Klook Klook Klook. We must be quick. After a brisk exchange of courtesies during which a smart upper cut of the military man brought blood freely from his opponent’s mouth the lamb suddenly waded in all over his man and landed a terrific left to Battling Bennett’s stomach, flooring him flat. He’s an Irishman.
at the corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but a bloody sweep came along and he near drove his gear into my eye. B., M. P., K.
—Those are nice things, says the citizen, coming over here to Ireland filling the country with bugs.
What’s your name, sir? Dunne, says he. Richard and S. Frigidian and S. It’s just that Keyes, you see.
Mercy of God the sun was in his eyes or he’d have left him for dead. Also now. Aloysius Gonzaga and S.
—Foreign wars is the cause of it.
His superb highclass vocalism, which by its superquality greatly enhanced his already international reputation, was vociferously applauded by the large audience among which were to be noticed many prominent members of the clergy as well as representatives of the press and the bar and the other learned professions. The gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew and bowed. Celestine and S.
—Et cum spiritu tuo.
Talking about hanging, I’ll show you something you never saw. The gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew and bowed. Tupper loves officer Taylor. So we turned into Barney Kiernan’s and there, sure enough, was the citizen up in the corner having a great confab with himself and that bloody mangy mongrel, Garryowen, and he waiting for what the sky would drop in the way of drink.
Such is life in an outhouse. Loans by post on easy terms. Then see him of a Sunday with his little concubine of a wife, and she wagging her tail up the aisle of the chapel with her patent boots on her, no less, and her violets, nice as pie, doing the little lady. Norman W.
—Hello, Ned.
John M. Interrogated as to whether life there resembled our experience in the flesh he stated that he had heard from more favoured beings now in the spirit that their abodes were equipped with every modern home comfort such as talafana, alavatar, hatakalda, wataklasat and that the highest adepts were steeped in waves of volupcy of the very purest nature. at the corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but a bloody sweep came along and he near drove his gear into my eye. Which is which?
All kinds of crazy longings. Not going to hurt you. Buenas noches, señorita. Daresay she felt I. Made up for that tramdriver this morning. It can’t be tourists’ matches. It was Madame Vera Verity, directress of the Woman Beautiful page of the Princess Novelette, who had first advised her to try eyebrowleine which gave that haunting expression to the eyes, so becoming in leaders of fashion, and she had never regretted it. Scowl or smile.
(because the one who married the elder brother would be Mrs Wylie) and in the fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was wearing a sumptuous confection of grey trimmed with expensive blue fox was not to be. Art thou real, my ideal? it was called by Louis J Walsh, Magherafelt, and after there was something about twilight, wilt thou ever? and ofttimes the beauty of poetry, so sad in its transient loveliness, had misted her eyes with silent tears for she felt that the years were slipping by for her, one by one, and but for that one shortcoming she knew she need fear no competition and that was an accident coming down Dalkey hill and she always tried to conceal it. Also the library today: those girl graduates. The pretty lips pouted awhile but then she glanced up and broke out into a joyous little laugh which had in it all the freshness of a young May morning. Belleisle printed on both. Were those nightclouds there all the time? Looks like a phantom ship. For such a one she yearns this balmy summer eve. Someone ought to take them and give them a good hiding for themselves to keep them in their places, the both of them. What frightens them, light or noise? Better sit still. History repeats itself. What is it? Heliotrope? No. And then a rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and O! then the Roman candle burst and it was like a sigh of O! and everyone cried O! O! in raptures and it gushed out of it a stream of rain gold hair threads and they shed and ah! they were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden, O so lovely, O, soft, sweet, soft!
Thankful for small mercies. Might get piles myself. Always at home at dinnertime. were taking tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup and talking about.
Sundown, gunfire for the men to cross the lines. El hombre ama la muchacha hermosa. Go home. If he had suffered, more sinned against than sinning, or even, even, if he had been himself a sinner, a wicked man, she cared not. Then they could talk about her till they went blue in the face, Bertha Supple too, and Edy, little spitfire, because she would be twentytwo in November. Her first stays I remember. El hombre ama la muchacha hermosa. Who could count them? Never know what you find. Wonder where he lives. She would have given worlds to know what it was. Her hands were of finely veined alabaster with tapering fingers and as white as lemonjuice and queen of ointments could make them though it was not true that she used to wear kid gloves in bed or take a milk footbath either. Then there was blushing scientifically cured and how to be tall increase your height and you have a beautiful face but your nose? That would suit Mrs Dignam because she had a button one. Curtain up. No prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a rare and wondrous love at her feet but rather a manly man with a strong quiet face who had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and who would understand, take her in his sheltering arms, strain her to him in all the strength of his deep passionate nature and comfort her with a long long kiss. Because you get it out of all holes and corners. There were wounds that wanted healing with heartbalm. Chance. Buried the poor husband but progressing favourably on the premium. O, and will you ever forget her the evening she dressed up in her father’s suit and hat and the burned cork moustache and walked down Tritonville road, smoking a cigarette. Handed down from father to, mother to daughter, I mean. Twentyeight it is. Ladies’ grey flannelette bloomers, three shillings a pair, astonishing bargain. Best place for an ad to catch a woman’s eye on a mirror. Forgotten. I could mention Meagher’s just to remind him. Might be the one bit me, come back to see. Also glowworms, cyclists: lightingup time. She loved to read poetry and when she got a keepsake from Bertha Supple of that lovely confession album with the coralpink cover to write her thoughts in she laid it in the drawer of her toilettable which, though it did not err on the side of luxury, was scrupulously neat and clean. French letter still in my pocketbook. Still there’s destiny in it, falling in love. No, no: not that. None of your spoilt beauties, Flora MacFlimsy sort, was Cissy Caffrey. Puking overboard to feed the herrings. What about? Bad plan however if you don’t know how to end the conversation. Suits her, with a little jessamine mixed. Fell asleep then. Out on spec probably. No. She has a good job if she minds it till Johnny comes marching home again. French letter still in my pocketbook. Is Cissy your sweetheart?
Dignam. Wife locked up at home, skeleton in the cupboard. O Lord, that little limping devil. I’ll murder you. Something inside them goes pop. Must be getting on for nine by the light.
—Nao, tearful Tommy said.
Their souls met in a last lingering glance and the eyes that reached her heart, full of a strange shining, hung enraptured on her sweet flowerlike face. Sooner have me as I am than some poet chap with bearsgrease plastery hair, lovelock over his dexter optic. Me have a nice pace. How many have you left? Wouldn’t lend each other a pinch of salt.
Inclination prompted her to speak out: dignity told her to be silent. It was dark brown with a natural wave in it. The strength it gives a man. Apoplectic.
She must have been thinking of someone else all the time. They don’t care. He was but eleven months and nine days old and, though still a tiny toddler, was just beginning to lisp his first babyish words. And then a rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and O! then the Roman candle burst and it was like a sigh of O! and everyone cried O! O! in raptures and it gushed out of it a stream of rain gold hair threads and they shed and ah! they were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden, O so lovely, O, soft, sweet, soft!
His eyes burned into her as though they would search her through and through, read her very soul. That young doctor O’Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. For instance if you go into a cellar where it’s dark. Might remain. Be sure now and write to me. Hm. Frightened she was when her nature came on her first.
—A penny for your thoughts.
Everyone thought the world of her for her gentle ways. Moorish eyes. Tide comes here. With all the heart of her she longs to be his only, his affianced bride for riches for poor, in sickness in health, till death us two part, from this to this day forward.
Grace Darling. Funny little beggar. Red rays are longest. Just for a few.
Comfortress of the afflicted. Twittering the bat flew here, flew there. Weeny bones. Have to let fly.
Dust. But it’s the evening influence. Irish Lights board. What?
Maybe the women’s fault also. And among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp at Leahy’s terrace. Pinned together. The slight contretemps claimed her attention but in two twos she set that little matter to rights.
How can they like the sea? Yet they do. It was he who mattered and there was joy on her face because she wanted him because she felt instinctively that he was like no-one else. Care of P. Heat brought it out. Brings back her girlhood. Don’t know what death is at that age. Her woman’s instinct told her that she had raised the devil in him and at the thought a burning scarlet swept from throat to brow till the lovely colour of her face became a glorious rose.
That’s how that wise man what’s his name with the burning glass. Suits her, with a little jessamine mixed. Every bullet has its billet. Kind of a general all round over me and half down my back.
Better now of course than long ago. She’s worth ten, fifteen, more, a pound. Bad opinion of me he’ll have. Better detach.
It would be like heaven. Offend her. Same style of beauty. Ask yourself who is he now. Children always want to throw things in the sea. She gazed out towards the distant sea. That young doctor O’Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. I know who is Tommy’s sweetheart. Curse seems to dog it. I have it! My memory’s not so bad.
Blown in from the bay. The old love was waiting, waiting with little white hands stretched out, with blue appealing eyes. Marry in May and repent in December. And her mother said to him to let that be a warning to him for the rest of his days and he couldn’t even go to the funeral on account of the gout and she had to go into town to bring him the letters and samples from his office about Catesby’s cork lino, artistic, standard designs, fit for a palace, gives tiptop wear and always bright and cheery in the home.
As God made them he matched them. Caressing the little boy too. Wonderful eyes they were, superbly expressive, but could you trust them? People were so queer. And they all ran down the strand to see over the houses and the church, helterskelter, Edy with the pushcar with baby Boardman in it and Cissy holding Tommy and Jacky by the hand so they wouldn’t fall running.
But it was lovely. History repeats itself. Nannetti’s gone. First thoughts are best. Friction of the position. Nerve they have to fly over the ocean and back. Someone ought to take them and give them a good hiding for themselves to keep them in their places, the both of them. That squinty one is delicate. Rip van Winkle we played. How can people aim guns at each other. I.
And says she and says he. Imagine that in the early morning at close range. Ought to go home and laugh at themselves. Just a few.
Her first stays I remember. Same time doing it scraped her slipper on the floor so they wouldn’t hear. What is that flying about? Swallow? Bat probably. Sure he has a small bank balance somewhere, government sit. They stick by one another like glue. It’s my ball.
Then they could talk about her till they went blue in the face, Bertha Supple too, and Edy, little spitfire, because she would be twentytwo in November. Almost see them shimmering, kind of a bluey white. Then they could talk about her till they went blue in the face, Bertha Supple too, and Edy, little spitfire, because she would be twentytwo in November.
—A jink a jink a jawbo.
Wiping pens in their stockings. But Tommy said he wanted the ball and Edy told him no that baby was playing with the ball and if he took it there’d be wigs on the green but Tommy said it was his ball and he wanted his ball and he pranced on the ground, if you please. Nature. His voice had a cultured ring in it and though he spoke in measured accents there was a suspicion of a quiver in the mellow tones. Fell asleep then. Tableau! O, look who it is for the love of God! How are you at all? What have you been doing with yourself? Kiss and delighted to, kiss, to see you. Then if one thing stopped the whole ghesabo would stop bit by bit. Our two champions claimed their plaything with lusty cries and to avoid trouble Cissy Caffrey called to the gentleman to throw it to her please. Aho! If you don’t answer when they solicit must be horrible for them till they harden. Allow me to introduce my. In their line.
Something inside them goes pop. Very strange about my watch. The sewage. Do fish ever get seasick?
O, father, will you? Let me be the first to. She was in a soft clinging white in a studied attitude and the gentleman was in chocolate and he looked a thorough aristocrat. No. But this was altogether different from a thing like that because there was all the difference because she could almost feel him draw her face to his and the first quick hot touch of his handsome lips. Twentyeight it is. Say you never see them with three colours. Payment at the rate of one guinea per column. She felt a kind of a sensation rushing all over her and she knew by the feel of her scalp and that irritation against her stays that that thing must be coming on because the last time too was when she clipped her hair on account of the moon. It is for you, Gertrude MacDowell, and you know it.
Might be still up. Yet he was young and perchance he might learn to love her in time. Honour where honour is due. A.
And the others inclined to give her an odd dig. Dust. Devil you are. Will I?
He told her that time when she told him about that in confession, crimsoning up to the roots of her hair for fear he could see, not to be troubled because that was only the voice of nature and we were all subject to nature’s laws, he said, in this life and that that was no sin because that came from the nature of woman instituted by God, he said, and that Our Blessed Lady herself said to the archangel Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word. Women never meet one like that Wilkins in the high school drawing a picture of Venus with all his belongings on show. Cissy Caffrey played with baby Boardman till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air. Come on. Say you never see them with three colours. Evening like this, but clear, no clouds. She gazed out towards the distant sea. Bottle with story of a treasure in it, thrown from a wreck. Why have women such eyes of witchery? Gerty’s were of the bluest Irish blue, set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive brows. Near her monthlies, I expect, makes them feel ticklish. All these rocks with lines and scars and letters. You’re looking splendid. Come on. J., rosary, sermon and benediction of the Most Blessed Sacrament. Are you not happy in your? Naughty darling. But if Master Tommy was headstrong Master Jacky was selfwilled too and, true to the maxim that every little Irishman’s house is his castle, he fell upon his hated rival and to such purpose that the wouldbe assailant came to grief and (alas to relate!) the coveted castle too. It was darker now and there were stones and bits of wood on the strand and slippy seaweed. She thought she understood. Belleisle printed on both. Boys will be boys and our two twins were no exception to this golden rule. Begins to feel cold and clammy. Good job I let off there behind the wall coming out of Dignam’s. Always see a fellow’s weak point in his wife. Instance, that cat this morning on the staircase. Best place for an ad to catch a woman’s eye on a mirror. Take him in tow, platter face and a large apron. They stick by one another like glue. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her with faith and constancy can never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge for the afflicted because of the seven dolours which transpierced her own heart. Yet he was young and perchance he might learn to love her in time. And Edy Boardman laughed too at the quaint language of little brother.
They never forget an appointment. The propitious moment. Lighthearted deceiver and fickle like all his sex he would never understand what he had meant to her and for an instant there was in the blue eyes a quick stinging of tears. And the old major, partial to his drop of spirits. First thoughts are best. I wouldn’t mind. Signs of rain it is. Two, four, six, eight, nine. Pity they can’t see themselves. Might stop him giving credit another time. No prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a rare and wondrous love at her feet but rather a manly man with a strong quiet face who had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and who would understand, take her in his sheltering arms, strain her to him in all the strength of his deep passionate nature and comfort her with a long long kiss. Looks mangled out: had a good tuck in. Inclination prompted her to speak out: dignity told her to be silent. First kiss does the trick. She put an arm round the little mariner and coaxed winningly:
Nothing else mattered. But that vile decoction which has ruined so many hearths and homes had cast its shadow over her childhood days. His little man-o’-war top and unmentionables were full of sand but Cissy was a past mistress in the art of smoothing over life’s tiny troubles and very quickly not one speck of sand was to be seen on his smart little suit. Cissy Caffrey bent over to him to tease his fat little plucks and the dainty dimple in his chin.
Mayhap it was this, the love that might have been, that lent to her softlyfeatured face at whiles a look, tense with suppressed meaning, that imparted a strange yearning tendency to the beautiful eyes, a charm few could resist. Poor girl! That’s why she’s left on the shelf and the others did a sprint. Dearer than the whole world would she be to him and gild his days with happiness. We can see from farther up.
Love, lie and be handsome for tomorrow we die. He lay but opened a red eye unsleeping, deep and slowly breathing, slumberous but awake. I’ll murder you. A.
Even if he was a protestant or methodist she could convert him easily if he truly loved her. I never told her. But then why don’t all women menstruate at the same time with the same moon, I mean? Depends on the time they were born I suppose. Never have little baby then less he was big strong fight his way up through. Jilted beauty. That young doctor O’Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. Tell you what it is. Me have a nice pace. And pray for us. Made me laugh to see. Fate that is. Trousers? Suppose I when I was? No. Also the form, the figure. Friction of the position. If they could run like rossies she could sit so she said she could see from where she was. Yet he was young and perchance he might learn to love her in time. Pray for us. Suppose it’s ever so many millions of tiny grains blown across. Petticoats for Molly. They were dabbling in the sand with their spades and buckets, building castles as children do, or playing with their big coloured ball, happy as the day was long. No. For Tommy and Jacky Caffrey were twins, scarce four years old and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for all that darling little fellows with bright merry faces and endearing ways about them. It never comes the same. Also glowworms, cyclists: lightingup time. Daresay she felt I. And time, well that’s the time the movement takes. Ye crags and peaks I’m with you once again. They were protestants in his family and of course Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the Blessed Virgin and then Saint Joseph. Fine eyes she had, clear. It was like the paintings that man used to do on the pavement with all the coloured chalks and such a pity too leaving them there to be all blotted out, the evening and the clouds coming out and the Bailey light on Howth and to hear the music like that and the perfume of those incense they burned in the church like a kind of waft. When you hold out the fork. Or? No. It’s the white of the eye brings that out not so much the pupil. Body fifty different colours. Girl in Tranquilla convent that nun told me liked to smell rock oil. She used to look over some nights when Molly was in the Coffee Palace. He was too young to understand. Because those spice islands, Cinghalese this morning, smell them leagues off. Wiping pens in their stockings. But being lost they fear. Walk after him now make him awkward like those newsboys me today. Poor father! With all his faults she loved him still when he sang Tell me, Mary, how to woo thee or My love and cottage near Rochelle and they had stewed cockles and lettuce with Lazenby’s salad dressing for supper and when he sang The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him, from a stroke. Then that bawler in Barney Kiernan’s. And says she and says he. O sweet little, you don’t know how nice you looked. Trust? Bread cast on the waters. I remember looking in Pill lane. She would have given worlds to know what it was. In Hamlet, that is. What? Worst is beginning. Did she know what I? Course. Or what they say. Women. That young doctor O’Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. Scratch the sole of my foot. That brought us out of the land of Egypt and into the house of bondage. He would not believe in love, a woman’s birthright. Molly often told me feel things a ton weight. Instead of talking about nothing. He wore a pair of gaiters the night that first we met. And Cissy told him too that billy winks was coming and that baby was to go deedaw and baby looked just too ducky, laughing up out of his gleeful eyes, and Cissy poked him like that out of fun in his wee fat tummy and baby, without as much as by your leave, sent up his compliments to all and sundry on to his brandnew dribbling bib.
The apple of discord was a certain castle of sand which Master Jacky had built and Master Tommy would have it right go wrong that it was to be architecturally improved by a frontdoor like the Martello tower had. And when I sent her for Molly’s Paisley shawl to Prescott’s by the way that ad I must, carrying home the change in her stocking! Clever little minx. She looked at him a moment, meeting his glance, and a light broke in upon her. Where we. Funny little beggar. Sure he has a small bank balance somewhere, government sit. Yes now, look at it that way. She did it up all by herself and what joy was hers when she tried it on then, smiling at the lovely reflection which the mirror gave back to her! And when she put it on the waterjug to keep the shape she knew that that would take the shine out of some people she knew. Heat brought it out. Good conductor, is it? Or bad? Light too. Grace after meals. Breath? What you eat and drink gives that. Come in, all is prepared. Evening. What? Worst is beginning. Tell you what it is. Still the blue eyes were glistening with hot tears that would well up so she kissed away the hurtness and shook her hand at Master Jacky the culprit and said if she was near him she wouldn’t be far from him, her eyes dancing in admonition.
I didn’t want to. She was about to retort but something checked the words on her tongue. Smelling the tail end of ports. Long and the short of it. I was only wondering was it late.
Grace after meals. Why Molly likes opoponax. Why that highclass whore in Jammet’s wore her veil only to her nose. Wow! Beef to the heel.
The body feels the atmosphere. No soft job. How they change the venue when it’s not what they like. And Cissy and Edy shouted after them to come back because they were afraid the tide might come in on them and be drowned.
Just close my eyes a moment. The gentleman aimed the ball once or twice and then threw it up the strand towards Cissy Caffrey but it rolled down the slope and stopped right under Gerty’s skirt near the little pool by the rock. Something the nurse taught me. And distant hills seem coming nigh.
Go home to nicey bread and milky and say night prayers with the kiddies. Was it goodbye? No. Press the button and the bird will squeak. And careworn hearts were there and toilers for their daily bread and many who had erred and wandered, their eyes wet with contrition but for all that bright with hope for the reverend father Father Hughes had told them what the great saint Bernard said in his famous prayer of Mary, the most pious Virgin’s intercessory power that it was not recorded in any age that those who implored her powerful protection were ever abandoned by her.
She loathed that sort of person, the fallen women off the accommodation walk beside the Dodder that went with the soldiers and coarse men with no respect for a girl’s honour, degrading the sex and being taken up to the police station. Wife in every port they say. And when her mother had those raging splitting headaches who was it rubbed the menthol cone on her forehead but Gerty though she didn’t like her mother’s taking pinches of snuff and that was the only single thing they ever had words about, taking snuff. Page of an old copybook. Trees are they? An optical illusion. The waxen pallor of her face was almost spiritual in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a genuine Cupid’s bow, Greekly perfect. Won’t sleep, though. Round the Kish in eighty days. Their frugal meal. Transparent stockings, stretched to breaking point. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. Let him. He called her little one in a strangely husky voice and snatched a half kiss (the first!) but it was only the end of her nose and then he hastened from the room with a remark about refreshments. Besides they say if the flower withers she wears she’s a flirt. I’ll murder you. Corns on his kismet however. Her hands were of finely veined alabaster with tapering fingers and as white as lemonjuice and queen of ointments could make them though it was not true that she used to wear kid gloves in bed or take a milk footbath either. No. How they change the venue when it’s not what they like. Lord! It was all things combined. For this relief much thanks. Transparent stockings, stretched to breaking point. Yet if I went the whole hog, say: I want to, something like that. Ba. Good to rest once in a way. Birds too. No, I remember. Good evening. Lots must be killed in storms, telegraph wires. In Hamlet, that is. And kissed my hand when I gave her the extra two shillings. Looks mangled out: had a good tuck in. J., rosary, sermon and benediction of the Most Blessed Sacrament. Ah. He was but eleven months and nine days old and, though still a tiny toddler, was just beginning to lisp his first babyish words. Same thing with ads. Little monkeys common as ditchwater. He would not believe in love, a woman’s birthright. Save. What though? Cigary gloves long John had on his desk the other day. Bertha Supple told that once to Edy Boardman, a deliberate lie, when she was black out at daggers drawn with Gerty (the girl chums had of course their little tiffs from time to time like the rest of mortals) and she told her not to let on whatever she did that it was her that told her or she’d never speak to her again. A delicate pink crept into her pretty cheek but she was determined to let them see so she just lifted her skirt a little but just enough and took good aim and gave the ball a jolly good kick and it went ever so far and the two twins after it down towards the shingle. She had no intention of being at their beck and call. O, her mouth in the dark! And you a married man with a single girl! That’s what they enjoy. Little piece of steel iron. Their frugal meal. Her hands were of finely veined alabaster with tapering fingers and as white as lemonjuice and queen of ointments could make them though it was not true that she used to wear kid gloves in bed or take a milk footbath either. Day we went out for the pleasure cruise in the Erin’s King, throwing them the sack of old papers. That’s how that wise man what’s his name with the burning glass. Body fifty different colours. Howth settled for slumber, tired of long days, of yumyum rhododendrons (he was old) and felt gladly the night breeze lift, ruffle his fell of ferns. If he had suffered, more sinned against than sinning, or even, even, if he had been himself a sinner, a wicked man, she cared not. Oughtn’t to have given that child an empty teat to suck. Still the blue eyes were glistening with hot tears that would well up so she kissed away the hurtness and shook her hand at Master Jacky the culprit and said if she was near him she wouldn’t be far from him, her eyes dancing in admonition.
Eating off his cold plate. But it must end, she felt. Look under the bed for what’s not there. Gerty is Tommy’s sweetheart.
Still, you never know. That causes movement. She put on her hat so that she could see from underneath the brim and swung her buckled shoe faster for her breath caught as she caught the expression in his eyes. He gets the plums, and I the plumstones.
—Nao, Tommy said on the verge of tears.
And kissed my hand when I gave her the extra two shillings. Looking from Buena Vista. Plain and loved, loved for ever, they say. Gain time. Light is a kind of reassuring. It was getting darker but he could see and he was looking all the time that he was winding the watch or whatever he was doing to it and then he put it back and put his hands back into his pockets. Just a few.
Aho! If you don’t answer when they solicit must be horrible for them till they harden. Near Holyhead by now. Little paps to begin with. But that vile decoction which has ruined so many hearths and homes had cast its shadow over her childhood days. Wreckers. Didn’t let her see me in profile. Eating off his cold plate. Longing to get the fright of their lives. Old Barbary ape that gobbled all his family. But this was altogether different from a thing like that because there was all the difference because she could almost feel him draw her face to his and the first quick hot touch of his handsome lips. Why I bought her the violet garters. Of course they understand birds, animals, babies. Must be getting on for nine by the light. Bat again. She felt a kind of a sensation rushing all over her and she knew by the feel of her scalp and that irritation against her stays that that thing must be coming on because the last time too was when she clipped her hair on account of the moon. Val Dillon. Mansmell, I mean. Dreamt last night? Wait. Weighs on his mind. Say out big, big. Time enough, understand all the ways of the world. Round the Kish in eighty days. And when the painters were in Lombard street west. Wonder what. What is that flying about? Swallow? Bat probably. Into the. Lacaus esant taratara. It was like the paintings that man used to do on the pavement with all the coloured chalks and such a pity too leaving them there to be all blotted out, the evening and the clouds coming out and the Bailey light on Howth and to hear the music like that and the perfume of those incense they burned in the church like a kind of waft. All tarred with the same brush. Gerty is Tommy’s sweetheart.
She would make the great sacrifice. How Giuglini began. He was eying her as a snake eyes its prey. And just now at Edy’s words as a telltale flush, delicate as the faintest rosebloom, crept into her cheeks she looked so lovely in her sweet girlish shyness that of a surety God’s fair land of Ireland did not hold her equal.
Flatters them. He was looking up so intently, so still, and he saw her kick the ball and perhaps he could see the bright steel buckles of her shoes if she swung them like that thoughtfully with the toes down. Pray for us. Ah no, that’s the soap.
Takes it for granted we’re going to pop off first. Colours depend on the light you see. Too late for Leah, Lily of Killarney. She leaned back far to look up where the fireworks were and she caught her knee in her hands so as not to fall back looking up and there was no-one to see only him and her when she revealed all her graceful beautifully shaped legs like that, supply soft and delicately rounded, and she seemed to hear the panting of his heart, his hoarse breathing, because she knew too about the passion of men like that, hotblooded, because Bertha Supple told her once in dead secret and made her swear she’d never about the gentleman lodger that was staying with them out of the Congested Districts Board that had pictures cut out of papers of those skirtdancers and highkickers and she said he used to do something not very nice that you could imagine sometimes in the bed. Ah no, that’s the soap.
Might be still up. Chance. His lovely shirt was shining beneath his what? of jet.
—What’s your name? Butter and cream?
Or all start scratch then get out of step. I knew there was something on my mind. Never again. Mayhap it was this, the love that might have been, that lent to her softlyfeatured face at whiles a look, tense with suppressed meaning, that imparted a strange yearning tendency to the beautiful eyes, a charm few could resist.
Cuckoo
Cuckoo
Cuckoo.
Washing child, washing corpse. She did it up all by herself and what joy was hers when she tried it on then, smiling at the lovely reflection which the mirror gave back to her! And when she put it on the waterjug to keep the shape she knew that that would take the shine out of some people she knew. Then the heather goes on fire. Also the form, the figure. Wonder what. They were protestants in his family and of course Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the Blessed Virgin and then Saint Joseph. Wonder if he’s too far to. There was that in her young voice that told that she was not a one to be lightly trifled with. Returning not the same. Ah!
And time, well that’s the time the movement takes. Nothing new under the sun. Red rays are longest. Cissy Caffrey bent over to him to tease his fat little plucks and the dainty dimple in his chin.
O sweet little, you don’t know how nice you looked. The anchor’s weighed. Featherbed mountain. Old Betty’s joints are on the rack. Cissy said thanks and came back with her tongue out and said uncle said his waterworks were out of order.
Also the library today: those girl graduates. Poor father! With all his faults she loved him still when he sang Tell me, Mary, how to woo thee or My love and cottage near Rochelle and they had stewed cockles and lettuce with Lazenby’s salad dressing for supper and when he sang The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him, from a stroke. How they change the venue when it’s not what they like. It’s my ball.
Richie Goulding: he’s another. Curse seems to dog it. Very same teeth she has. Far away in the west the sun was setting and the last glow of all too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and strand, on the proud promontory of dear old Howth guarding as ever the waters of the bay, on the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, last but not least, on the quiet church whence there streamed forth at times upon the stillness the voice of prayer to her who is in her pure radiance a beacon ever to the stormtossed heart of man, Mary, star of the sea.
Looking out over the sea she told me. Inclination prompted her to speak out: dignity told her to be silent. Belfry up there. Made me feel so young.
Best time to spray plants too in the shade after the sun. Perhaps not to hurt he meant. Whole earnest. Here. But Tommy said he wanted the ball and Edy told him no that baby was playing with the ball and if he took it there’d be wigs on the green but Tommy said it was his ball and he wanted his ball and he pranced on the ground, if you please. Gnashing her teeth in sleep. Two houses they have. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. Mat Dillon and his bevy of daughters: Tiny, Atty, Floey, Maimy, Louy, Hetty. Not so bad then. Byby till next time. Curse seems to dog it. Names change: that’s all. Smelling the tail end of ports. O Lord, that little limping devil. Off he sails with a scapular or a medal on him for luck. Bertha Supple told that once to Edy Boardman, a deliberate lie, when she was black out at daggers drawn with Gerty (the girl chums had of course their little tiffs from time to time like the rest of mortals) and she told her not to let on whatever she did that it was her that told her or she’d never speak to her again. Dearest Papli. Bag under their tails. Puking overboard to feed the herrings. No, no: not that. Did I forget to write address on that letter like the postcard I sent to Flynn? And the day I went to Drimmie’s without a necktie. Light is a kind of reassuring. The new I want. Shoals of them every evening poured out of offices. Best time to spray plants too in the shade after the sun. Did I forget to write address on that letter like the postcard I sent to Flynn? And the day I went to Drimmie’s without a necktie. She would make the great sacrifice. Something inside them goes pop. Run you through the small guts for nothing. Still there’s destiny in it, falling in love. Scowl or smile. Might be still up. Not true. The anchor’s weighed. More put out about a hole in her stocking. Then I will tell you all. Her blue scarf loose, laughing. Moorish. A delicate pink crept into her pretty cheek but she was determined to let them see so she just lifted her skirt a little but just enough and took good aim and gave the ball a jolly good kick and it went ever so far and the two twins after it down towards the shingle. No. Looking out over the sea she told me. And the women, fear of God in their faces. Comfortress of the afflicted. Bag under their tails. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue banners of the blessed Virgin’s sodality and Father Conroy was helping Canon O’Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. Then they could talk about her till they went blue in the face, Bertha Supple too, and Edy, little spitfire, because she would be twentytwo in November. Why she waved her hand. Long day I’ve had. Always know a fellow courting: collars and cuffs. Too late for Leah, Lily of Killarney. Featherbed mountain. Wouldn’t give that satisfaction. Did too. Licking pennies. Best time to spray plants too in the shade after the sun. Hopeless. Sweet and cheap: soon sour. Children’s hands always round them. Made me laugh to see. Better detach.
What? I think so. Fashion part of their charm. Come. Mine too. Returning not the same. His eyes burned into her as though they would search her through and through, read her very soul. It was getting darker but he could see and he was looking all the time that he was winding the watch or whatever he was doing to it and then he put it back and put his hands back into his pockets. Afraid to be alone like a child of two. But Edy wanted to know because they were told to be in early.
Children’s hands always round them. See ourselves as others see us. Wife in every port they say. When you feel like that you often meet what you feel. Gerty is Tommy’s sweetheart.
Daresay she felt I. Whitehot passion was in that face, passion silent as the grave, and it had made her his. Trees are they? An optical illusion. Neat way she carries parcels too. Little recked he perhaps for what she felt, that dull aching void in her heart sometimes, piercing to the core. I leave you this to think of me when I’m far away on the pillow. He would not believe in love, a woman’s birthright. Good evening. The temper of him! O, he was a man already was little Tommy Caffrey since he was out of pinnies. And baby prattled after her:
Always off to a fellow when they are. Throwing them up in the air to catch them. Sad however because it lasts only a few years till they settle down to potwalloping and papa’s pants will soon fit Willy and fuller’s earth for the baby when they hold him out to do ah ah. Lacaus esant taratara. Hands felt for the opulent. And they all ran down the strand to see over the houses and the church, helterskelter, Edy with the pushcar with baby Boardman in it and Cissy holding Tommy and Jacky by the hand so they wouldn’t fall running.
Lord, I am wet. Well, aren’t they? See her as she is spoil all. Evening like this, but clear, no clouds. Sticks too like a summer cold, sore on the mouth. Who knows what they’re always flying for. Lacaus esant taratara. Kind of a general all round over me and half down my back.
Where do they get that? Typist going up Roger Greene’s stairs two at a time to show her understandings. Is it only half fun? Or children playing battle. For Tommy and Jacky Caffrey were twins, scarce four years old and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for all that darling little fellows with bright merry faces and endearing ways about them. Celery sauce. Miss puny little Edy’s countenance fell to no slight extent and Gerty could see by her looking as black as thunder that she was simply in a towering rage though she hid it, the little kinnatt, because that shaft had struck home for her petty jealousy and they both knew that she was something aloof, apart, in another sphere, that she was not of them and never would be and there was somebody else too that knew it and saw it so they could put that in their pipe and smoke it.
Hope she’s over. Twice nought makes one. O Lord, that little limping devil. Let it go.
Offend her. No. Signs of rain it is. Not so bad then. She loathed that sort of person, the fallen women off the accommodation walk beside the Dodder that went with the soldiers and coarse men with no respect for a girl’s honour, degrading the sex and being taken up to the police station. Homerule sun setting in the southeast. Three cheers for Israel. For Tommy and Jacky Caffrey were twins, scarce four years old and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for all that darling little fellows with bright merry faces and endearing ways about them. Take the train there tomorrow. As God made them he matched them. How can people aim guns at each other. Something in all those superstitions because when you go out never know what dangers. Better go. Bad for you, dear, to sit on that stone. Glad I didn’t know it when she was on show. I saw all.
Suppose there’s some connection. What? I think so. Can’t read. Bailey light. The apple of discord was a certain castle of sand which Master Jacky had built and Master Tommy would have it right go wrong that it was to be architecturally improved by a frontdoor like the Martello tower had. She gazed out towards the distant sea. Coastguards too. Curious she an only child, I an only child. Would you mind, please, telling me the right time? I’ll tell you the right time up a dark lane. Still two types there are you bob against.
—A jink a jink a jawbo.
Whitehot passion was in that face, passion silent as the grave, and it had made her his. Make their own use of everything. Or what they say. My native land, goodnight.
Hm. That’s where Molly can knock spots off them. Caressing the little boy too. Think you’re escaping and run into yourself. Might remain. And it’s extremely curious the smell. What is that flying about? Swallow? Bat probably. It was dark brown with a natural wave in it. She was a womanly woman not like other flighty girls unfeminine he had known, those cyclists showing off what they hadn’t got and she just yearned to know all, to forgive all if she could make him fall in love with her, make him forget the memory of the past. All that old hill has seen. I never told her. And I’ll write to you. He was but eleven months and nine days old and, though still a tiny toddler, was just beginning to lisp his first babyish words. But then why don’t all women menstruate at the same time with the same moon, I mean? Depends on the time they were born I suppose. I could mention Meagher’s just to remind him. Aho! If you don’t answer when they solicit must be horrible for them till they harden. Still the blue eyes were glistening with hot tears that would well up so she kissed away the hurtness and shook her hand at Master Jacky the culprit and said if she was near him she wouldn’t be far from him, her eyes dancing in admonition.
Dreamt last night? Wait. Where do they get that? Typist going up Roger Greene’s stairs two at a time to show her understandings. If she saw that magic lure in his eyes there would be no holding back for her. But Edy got as cross as two sticks about him getting his own way like that from everyone always petting him.
It can’t be tourists’ matches. Bears in the zoo. The strength it gives a man. Devil you are. Same style of beauty. Was it goodbye? No. Ah!
She had no intention of being at their beck and call. And she saw a long Roman candle going up over the trees, up, up, and, in the tense hush, they were all breathless with excitement as it went higher and higher and she had to lean back more and more to look up after it, high, high, almost out of sight, and her face was suffused with a divine, an entrancing blush from straining back and he could see her other things too, nainsook knickers, the fabric that caresses the skin, better than those other pettiwidth, the green, four and eleven, on account of being white and she let him and she saw that he saw and then it went so high it went out of sight a moment and she was trembling in every limb from being bent so far back that he had a full view high up above her knee where no-one ever not even on the swing or wading and she wasn’t ashamed and he wasn’t either to look in that immodest way like that because he couldn’t resist the sight of the wondrous revealment half offered like those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he kept on looking, looking. Just compare for instance those others. Into her. Course I never could throw anything straight at school. Children always want to throw things in the sea. Val Dillon. There or the armpits or under the neck. Left one is more sensitive, I think. He was looking up so intently, so still, and he saw her kick the ball and perhaps he could see the bright steel buckles of her shoes if she swung them like that thoughtfully with the toes down. Ye crags and peaks I’m with you once again. There or the armpits or under the neck. Where do they get that? Typist going up Roger Greene’s stairs two at a time to show her understandings. Also the form, the figure. She had no intention of being at their beck and call. It couldn’t be? No, Gerty they called her. Whitehot passion was in that face, passion silent as the grave, and it had made her his. I always thought I’d marry a lord or a rich gentleman coming with a private yacht. Must be near nine. Lord!
Some light still. You would have to travel many a long mile before you found a head of hair the like of that. My youth.
Cuckoo
Cuckoo
Cuckoo.
Like what? Potted herrings gone stale or. Nannetti’s gone. For Gerty had her dreams that no-one knew of. Wait till I catch you for that.
Yes, I suppose, at once. Glad to get away from other chap’s wife. Letter? No. Come what might she would be wild, untrammelled, free.
And if ever after he dared to presume she could give him one look of measured scorn that would make him shrivel up on the spot. But lots of them can’t kick the beam, I think. Tell you what it is. Wait till I catch you for that.
Dressed up to the nines for somebody. Muskrat. As for undies they were Gerty’s chief care and who that knows the fluttering hopes and fears of sweet seventeen (though Gerty would never see seventeen again) can find it in his heart to blame her? She had four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery, three garments and nighties extra, and each set slotted with different coloured ribbons, rosepink, pale blue, mauve and peagreen, and she aired them herself and blued them when they came home from the wash and ironed them and she had a brickbat to keep the iron on because she wouldn’t trust those washerwomen as far as she’d see them scorching the things. Or? No. Devil you are. Of course they understand birds, animals, babies. Gerty is Tommy’s sweetheart.
Same style of beauty. Mistake to hit back. Birds too. Will I?
Tip. Only now his father kept him in in the evenings studying hard to get an exhibition in the intermediate that was on and he was going to go to Trinity college to study for a doctor when he left the high school like his brother W. Sharp as needles they are. Cissy Caffrey bent over to him to tease his fat little plucks and the dainty dimple in his chin.
Maiden discovered with pensive bosom. Then the heather goes on fire. They stick by one another like glue. And the women, fear of God in their faces. Three cheers for Israel. Mat Dillon and his bevy of daughters: Tiny, Atty, Floey, Maimy, Louy, Hetty. Old Barbary ape that gobbled all his family. What about? Bad plan however if you don’t know how to end the conversation. Her woman’s instinct told her that she had raised the devil in him and at the thought a burning scarlet swept from throat to brow till the lovely colour of her face became a glorious rose.
Irish Lights board. Put them all on to take them all off. I begin to like them at that age. Must be connected with that because priests that are supposed to be are different. Women buzz round it like flies round treacle. Little recked he perhaps for what she felt, that dull aching void in her heart sometimes, piercing to the core. Or hers. Magnetic needle tells you what’s going on in the sun, the stars. Heart of mine! She would follow, her dream of love, the dictates of her heart that told her he was her all in all, the only man in all the world for her for love was the master guide. That was their secret, only theirs, alone in the hiding twilight and there was none to know or tell save the little bat that flew so softly through the evening to and fro and little bats don’t tell.
Better now of course than long ago. Just close my eyes a moment. I remember looking in Pill lane. But not a pin cared Ciss.
Never went back and the soap not paid. Coastguards too. Fine eyes she had, clear. Sister souls. Drunken ranters what I said about his God made him wince. Glad to get away from other chap’s wife. We can see from farther up.
Long day I’ve had. Picking holes in each other’s appearance. Something inside them goes pop. And just now at Edy’s words as a telltale flush, delicate as the faintest rosebloom, crept into her cheeks she looked so lovely in her sweet girlish shyness that of a surety God’s fair land of Ireland did not hold her equal.
Must have the stage setting, the rouge, costume, position, music. Some good matronly woman in a porkpie hat to mother him. Why have women such eyes of witchery? Gerty’s were of the bluest Irish blue, set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive brows. Fashion part of their charm. Curse seems to dog it. Hair strong in rut. She has a good job if she minds it till Johnny comes marching home again. Hm. What frightens them, light or noise? Better sit still. That causes movement. But makes them polite. Don’t want it they throw it at you. If she saw that magic lure in his eyes there would be no holding back for her. Half dream. But might happen sometime, I don’t think. Roygbiv Vance taught us: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. Come. My youth. Their souls met in a last lingering glance and the eyes that reached her heart, full of a strange shining, hung enraptured on her sweet flowerlike face. When you hold out the fork. You are lovely, Gerty, it said. I knew there was something on my mind. Not so bad then. But her breasts were developed. Lemons it is. Also the cat likes to sniff in her shift on the bed. Useless. Run you through the small guts for nothing. What’s this? Bit of stick.
All those holes and pebbles. Write a message for her. She had loved him better than he knew. And that fellow today at the graveside in the brown macintosh. She wasn’t in a hurry either. Two, four, six, eight, nine. That gouger M’Coy stopping me to say nothing. Hands felt for the opulent. Brings back her girlhood. No. Could do it myself. Like to be that rock she sat on. Kiss in the dark and never tell. She would have given worlds to know what it was. Cheap too. Offend her. I could mention Meagher’s just to remind him. And kissed my hand when I gave her the extra two shillings. And they all looked was it sheet lightning but Tommy saw it too over the trees beside the church, blue and then green and purple.
Something inside them goes pop. Belleisle printed on both. Even if he was a protestant or methodist she could convert him easily if he truly loved her. It was all no use soothering him with no, nono, baby, no and telling him about the geegee and where was the puffpuff but Ciss, always readywitted, gave him in his mouth the teat of the suckingbottle and the young heathen was quickly appeased.
Still there’s destiny in it, falling in love. Tip. Like a little man in a cloak he is with tiny hands. Eightyseven that was.
(because the one who married the elder brother would be Mrs Wylie) and in the fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was wearing a sumptuous confection of grey trimmed with expensive blue fox was not to be. Payment at the rate of one guinea per column. Muskrat. But even if—what then? Would it make a very great difference? From everything in the least indelicate her finebred nature instinctively recoiled. Lighthearted deceiver and fickle like all his sex he would never understand what he had meant to her and for an instant there was in the blue eyes a quick stinging of tears. That’s how that wise man what’s his name with the burning glass. Oughtn’t to have given that child an empty teat to suck. Pity they can’t see themselves. Little recked he perhaps for what she felt, that dull aching void in her heart sometimes, piercing to the core. Whistle brings rain they say. He was but eleven months and nine days old and, though still a tiny toddler, was just beginning to lisp his first babyish words. Every bullet has its billet. For this relief much thanks. Rip van Winkle we played. I didn’t want to. Never find out. Bell scared him out, I suppose. Widower I hate to see. Chap in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle. One grain pour off odour for years. Mysterious thing too. The young are old. Say a woman loses a charm with every pin she takes out. Their frugal meal. Boys will be boys and our two twins were no exception to this golden rule. That was their secret, only theirs, alone in the hiding twilight and there was none to know or tell save the little bat that flew so softly through the evening to and fro and little bats don’t tell.
Hair strong in rut. Wish I had a full length oilpainting of her then. He was eying her as a snake eyes its prey. I have it! My memory’s not so bad.
Like kids your second visit to a house. She knew right well, no-one better, what made squinty Edy say that because of him cooling in his attentions when it was simply a lovers’ quarrel. Wife in every port they say. She’s lame! O!
Her first stays I remember. Stare the sun for example like the eagle then look at a shoe see a blotch blob yellowish. Then ask in the morning: was I drunk last night? Bad policy however to fault the husband. It was all no use soothering him with no, nono, baby, no and telling him about the geegee and where was the puffpuff but Ciss, always readywitted, gave him in his mouth the teat of the suckingbottle and the young heathen was quickly appeased.
Day we went out for the pleasure cruise in the Erin’s King, throwing them the sack of old papers. For instance if you go into a cellar where it’s dark. Like flowers.
—Nasty bold Jacky! she cried.
That half tabbywhite tortoiseshell in the City Arms with the letter em on her forehead. Violets. Off colour after Kiernan’s, Dignam’s. Just a few.
Poor man O’Connor wife and five children poisoned by mussels here. Sometimes Molly and Milly together. Nothing else mattered. Friction of the position. Gerty’s lips parted swiftly to frame the word but she fought back the sob that rose to her throat, so slim, so flawless, so beautifully moulded it seemed one an artist might have dreamed of. But waiting, always waiting to be asked and it was leap year too and would soon be over. Weighs on his mind. Bad opinion of me he’ll have. She leaned on the sideboard watching. Or even hear of it. Must call to those Scottish Widows as I promised.
—Haja ja ja haja.
Always off to a fellow when they are. Then that bawler in Barney Kiernan’s. Mysterious thing too. Wonder is nurse Callan there still. Like our small talk. More put out about a hole in her stocking. Must be near nine. His voice had a cultured ring in it and though he spoke in measured accents there was a suspicion of a quiver in the mellow tones. The royal reader. And the children, twins they must be, waiting for something to happen. It’s like a fine fine veil or web they have all over the skin, fine like what do you call it gossamer, and they’re always spinning it out of them, fine as anything, like rainbow colours without knowing it. To aid gentleman in literary. Press the button and the bird will squeak. Dust. Dressed up to the nines for somebody. Pubs do. She had loved him better than he knew. Save. She leaned on the sideboard watching. He would not believe in love, a woman’s birthright. They stick by one another like glue. And the others inclined to give her an odd dig. Don’t want it they throw it at you. She wore a coquettish little love of a hat of wideleaved nigger straw contrast trimmed with an underbrim of eggblue chenille and at the side a butterfly bow of silk to tone. Fine eyes she had, clear. A star I see. Mailboat.
—Nasty bold Jacky! she cried.
We’ll never meet again. Her blue scarf loose, laughing. Strange name. Where was that? Ah, yes. And she could see far away the lights of the lighthouses so picturesque she would have loved to do with a box of paints because it was easier than to make a man and soon the lamplighter would be going his rounds past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady Tritonville avenue where the couples walked and lighting the lamp near her window where Reggy Wylie used to turn his freewheel like she read in that book The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales. Should a girl tell? No, a thousand times no. A defect is ten times worse in a woman. They were dabbling in the sand with their spades and buckets, building castles as children do, or playing with their big coloured ball, happy as the day was long.
—Nao, tearful Tommy said.
First kiss does the trick. Think you’re escaping and run into yourself. Handed down from father to, mother to daughter, I mean. Still, I feel. Mine too. Well.
—Nao, Tommy said on the verge of tears.
No soft job. They were protestants in his family and of course Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the Blessed Virgin and then Saint Joseph. She jumped up and called them and she ran down the slope past him, tossing her hair behind her which had a good enough colour if there had been more of it but with all the thingamerry she was always rubbing into it she couldn’t get it to grow long because it wasn’t natural so she could just go and throw her hat at it. That was their secret, only theirs, alone in the hiding twilight and there was none to know or tell save the little bat that flew so softly through the evening to and fro and little bats don’t tell.
Her mother’s birthday that was and Charley was home on his holidays and Tom and Mr Dignam and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and they were to have had a group taken. Made up for that tramdriver this morning. Ask you do you like mushrooms because she once knew a gentleman who. Pardon! Not at all. It is for you, Gertrude MacDowell, and you know it.
Twentyeight it is. No-one would have thought the end was so near. Comfortress of the afflicted. One moment he had been there, fascinated by a loveliness that made him gaze, and the next moment it was the quiet gravefaced gentleman, selfcontrol expressed in every line of his distinguishedlooking figure.
What is the meaning of that other world. It was getting darker but he could see and he was looking all the time that he was winding the watch or whatever he was doing to it and then he put it back and put his hands back into his pockets. Liverpool boat long gone.
Cuckoo
Cuckoo
Cuckoo.
All that old hill has seen. Turns milk, makes fiddlestrings snap. Parcels post. Also glowworms, cyclists: lightingup time. But then you’re in a cart. Day we went out for the pleasure cruise in the Erin’s King, throwing them the sack of old papers.
—I’d like to give him something, she said, so I would, where I won’t say.
Stays. Weighs on his mind. Bred in the bone. Besides there was absolution so long as you didn’t do the other thing before being married and there ought to be women priests that would understand without your telling out and Cissy Caffrey too sometimes had that dreamy kind of dreamy look in her eyes so that she too, my dear, and Winny Rippingham so mad about actors’ photographs and besides it was on account of that other thing coming on the way it did.
Inclination prompted her to speak out: dignity told her to be silent. Oughtn’t to have given that child an empty teat to suck. Moonlight silver effulgence. Fellows run up a bill on the slate and then slinking around the back streets into somewhere else.
Looking out over the sea she told me. Will she come here tomorrow? Wait for her somewhere for ever. Old Barbary ape that gobbled all his family. Do fish ever get seasick?
Might stop him giving credit another time. The eyes that were fastened upon her set her pulses tingling. He brought it near his eyes and peered. Because I did. How can people aim guns at each other. But she was sincerity itself, one of the bravest and truest hearts heaven ever made, not one of your twofaced things, too sweet to be wholesome.
Remember about the mistake in the valuation when I was in Thom’s. Or the one in Grafton street. Attract men, small thing like that. Must be getting on for nine by the light. I was only wondering was it late.
But Tommy said he wanted the ball and Edy told him no that baby was playing with the ball and if he took it there’d be wigs on the green but Tommy said it was his ball and he wanted his ball and he pranced on the ground, if you please. Her very soul is in her eyes and she would give worlds to be in the privacy of her own familiar chamber where, giving way to tears, she could have a good cry and relieve her pentup feelings though not too much because she knew how to cry nicely before the mirror. Milly for example drying her handkerchief on the mirror to save the ironing. It was all no use soothering him with no, nono, baby, no and telling him about the geegee and where was the puffpuff but Ciss, always readywitted, gave him in his mouth the teat of the suckingbottle and the young heathen was quickly appeased.
She knew right well, no-one better, what made squinty Edy say that because of him cooling in his attentions when it was simply a lovers’ quarrel. She was glad that something told her to put on the transparent stockings thinking Reggy Wylie might be out but that was far away. Van: breadvan delivering. Have their own secrets between them. He brought it near his eyes and peered. Almost see them shimmering, kind of a bluey white. Big he and little she. Why she waved her hand. As for undies they were Gerty’s chief care and who that knows the fluttering hopes and fears of sweet seventeen (though Gerty would never see seventeen again) can find it in his heart to blame her? She had four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery, three garments and nighties extra, and each set slotted with different coloured ribbons, rosepink, pale blue, mauve and peagreen, and she aired them herself and blued them when they came home from the wash and ironed them and she had a brickbat to keep the iron on because she wouldn’t trust those washerwomen as far as she’d see them scorching the things. Yet if I went the whole hog, say: I want to, something like that. Nightstock in Mat Dillon’s garden where I kissed her shoulder. Buy from us. Her widow’s mite. Her high notes and her low notes. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her with faith and constancy can never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge for the afflicted because of the seven dolours which transpierced her own heart. Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the football field to show what a great person she was: and then she cried:
The old love was waiting, waiting with little white hands stretched out, with blue appealing eyes. Enjoying nature now. Bottle with story of a treasure in it, thrown from a wreck. With all the heart of her she longs to be his only, his affianced bride for riches for poor, in sickness in health, till death us two part, from this to this day forward.
She loathed that sort of person, the fallen women off the accommodation walk beside the Dodder that went with the soldiers and coarse men with no respect for a girl’s honour, degrading the sex and being taken up to the police station. Curtain up. Trees are they? An optical illusion. Something confused. How do you sniff? Hm. The new I want. They were dabbling in the sand with their spades and buckets, building castles as children do, or playing with their big coloured ball, happy as the day was long. The propitious moment. The name too. Pure jealousy of course it was nothing else to draw attention on account of the gentleman opposite looking. Mouth made for that. Byby till next time. Happy chairs under them. Well cocks and lions do the same and stags. Venus? Can’t tell yet. No harm in him. The rhododendrons. All these rocks with lines and scars and letters. Wonder if he’s too far to. Eating off his cold plate. Forgotten. Throwing them up in the air to catch them. When three it’s night. Molly, her underjaw stuck out, head back, about the farmer in the ridingboots and spurs at the horse show. Women never meet one like that Wilkins in the high school drawing a picture of Venus with all his belongings on show. Frightened she was when her nature came on her first. Fine eyes she had, clear. Birds too. Blown in from the bay. Nothing else mattered. It hurt—O yes, it cut deep because Edy had her own quiet way of saying things like that she knew would wound like the confounded little cat she was. Molly, lieutenant Mulvey that kissed her under the Moorish wall beside the gardens. The eyes that were fastened upon her set her pulses tingling. No harm in him. Funny my watch stopped at half past four. Reminds me of strawberries and cream. All these rocks with lines and scars and letters. Dearest Papli. Wiping pens in their stockings. We’ll never meet again. They’re a mixed breed. Murderers do. But it’s the evening influence. Say you never see them with three colours. I felt her pulse. Hm. There was none to come up to her for fun. Belleisle printed on both. He’s right. Shoals of them every evening poured out of offices. O but the dark evening in the Appian way I nearly spoke to Mrs Clinch O thinking she was. Love laughs at locksmiths. Could do it myself. Just a few.
Young student. Three cheers for Israel. All instinct like the bird in drouth got water out of the end of a jar by throwing in pebbles. She was wearing the blue for luck, hoping against hope, her own colour and lucky too for a bride to have a bit of blue somewhere on her because the green she wore that day week brought grief because his father brought him in to study for the intermediate exhibition and because she thought perhaps he might be out because when she was dressing that morning she nearly slipped up the old pair on her inside out and that was for luck and lovers’ meeting if you put those things on inside out or if they got untied that he was thinking about you so long as it wasn’t of a Friday.
Only once it comes. Chaps that would go to the dogs if some woman didn’t take them in hand. Looking out over the sea she told me. Drawers: little kick, taking them off. Rip: tear in Henny Doyle’s overcoat. Light is a kind of reassuring. Sooner have me as I am than some poet chap with bearsgrease plastery hair, lovelock over his dexter optic. Say pa pa pa pa pa pa pa.
Wonder is there any magnetic influence between the person because that was about the time he. Is it only half fun? Or children playing battle. Smelling the tail end of ports. Their eyes were probing her mercilessly but with a brave effort she sparkled back in sympathy as she glanced at her new conquest for them to see.
Catch em alive, O. Say out big, big. What harm? Must since she came to the use of reason, he, he and he. Looking out over the sea she told me. His gun rusty from the dew.
But let us bear it as was the ancient wont. He’s the grandest thing yet and don’t you forget it. Mr S. Murderer’s ground.
Bonafides. Garn! Have a glint, do. There was bad blood between them at first, says Mr Vincent, and the lord Harry called farmer Nicholas all the old Nicks in the world and an old whoremaster that kept seven trulls in his house and I’ll meddle in his matters, says he. Trample the trampellers. Horne is lord. Crotthers was there at the foot of the table in his striking Highland garb, his face glowing from the briny airs of the Mull of Galloway. A dedale of lusty youth, noble every student there. Thus, or words to that effect, saith Zarathustra, sometime regius professor of French letters to the university of Oxtail nor breathed there ever that man to whom mankind was more beholden. Hurrah there, Dix! Forward to the ribbon counter. Caraway seed to carry away. Vyfor you no me tell? Vel, I ses, if that aint a sheeny nachez, vel, I vil get misha mishinnah. Do you not think it, Stephen? Theosophos told me so, Stephen answered, whom in a previous existence Egyptian priests initiated into the mysteries of karmic law. Malachias, overcome by emotion, ceased. And sir Leopold sat with them for he bore fast friendship to sir Simon and to this his son young Stephen and for that his languor becalmed him there after longest wanderings insomuch as they feasted him for that time in the honourablest manner. On the road to Malahide. Scep.) remark (or should it be called an interruption?) that an omnivorous being which can masticate, deglute, digest and apparently pass through the ordinary channel with pluterperfect imperturbability such multifarious aliments as cancrenous females emaciated by parturition, corpulent professional gentlemen, not to speak of jaundiced politicians and chlorotic nuns, might possibly find gastric relief in an innocent collation of staggering bob, reveals as nought else could and in a very unsavoury light the tendency above alluded to. Got a pectoral trauma, eh, Dix? Pos fact. In woman’s womb word is made flesh but in the spirit of the maker all flesh that passes becomes the word that shall not pass away. And also it was a marvel to see in that castle how by magic they make a compost out of fecund wheatkidneys out of Chaldee that by aid of certain angry spirits that they do in to it swells up wondrously like to a vast mountain. Pull down the blind, love. Four winners yesterday and three today. He was laying his hand upon a winejar: Malachi saw it and withheld his act, pointing to the stranger and to the scarlet label. In sum an infinite great fall of rain and all refreshed and will much increase the harvest yet those in ken say after wind and water fire shall come for a prognostication of Malachi’s almanac (and I hear that Mr Russell has done a prophetical charm of the same gist out of the Hindustanish for his farmer’s gazette) to have three things in all but this a mere fetch without bottom of reason for old crones and bairns yet sometimes they are found in the right guess with their queerities no telling how.
The high hall of Horne’s house had never beheld an assembly so representative and so varied nor had the old rafters of that establishment ever listened to a language so encyclopaedic. Allee samee dis bunch. Tarnally dog gone my shins if this beent the bestest puttiest longbreak yet. Ayes have it. Got a pectoral trauma, eh, Dix? Pos fact. A week ago she lay ill, four days on the couch, but today she was free, blithe, mocked at peril. Watchers tway there walk, white sisters in ward sleepless. Mr Justice Fitzgibbon’s door (that is to sit with Mr Healy the lawyer upon the college lands) Mal. We are means to those small creatures within us and nature has other ends than we. A make, mister. Sad was the man that word to hear that him so heavied in bowels ruthful. Lambay Island. O, get, rev on a gradient one in nine. Bowsing nowt but claretwine. Pull down the blind, love. It was now for more than the middle span of our allotted years that he had passed through the thousand vicissitudes of existence and, being of a wary ascendancy and self a man of rare forecast, he had enjoined his heart to repress all motions of a rising choler and, by intercepting them with the readiest precaution, foster within his breast that plenitude of sufferance which base minds jeer at, rash judgers scorn and all find tolerable and but tolerable. If I had poor luck with Bass’s mare perhaps this draught of his may serve me more propensely. And sir Leopold that was the goodliest guest that ever sat in scholars’ hall and that was the meekest man and the kindest that ever laid husbandly hand under hen and that was the very truest knight of the world one that ever did minion service to lady gentle pledged him courtly in the cup. Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa!
He is young Leopold. Declare misery. Come, come, says Mr Vincent, plain dealing. Password. But, he further added, it is mayhap to relieve the pentup feelings that in common oppress them for I have more than once observed that birds of a feather laugh together.
Thus, or words to that effect, saith Zarathustra, sometime regius professor of French letters to the university of Oxtail nor breathed there ever that man to whom mankind was more beholden. But indeed, sir, I wander from the point. Do you remember her, Vincent? I wish you could have seen my queen today, Vincent said. Slide. Through yerd our lord, Amen.
Horne (Lic. Man all tattered and torn that married a maiden all forlorn. Well met they were, said Master Dixon, joyed, but, harkee, young sir, better were they named Beau Mount and Lecher for, by my troth, of such a mingling much might come. Well, let us hear of it, good my friend, said Mr Dixon. Scrum in. When Conmee had passed she glanced at her lovely echo in that little mirror she carries. Dope is my only hope.. Just you try it on.
Thunderation! Keep the durned millingtary step. All they bachelors then asked of sir Leopold would he in like case so jeopard her person as risk life to save life. Malachias, overcome by emotion, ceased. Mr J. The aged sisters draw us into life: we wail, batten, sport, clip, clasp, sunder, dwindle, die: over us dead they bend. The clumsy things are dear at a sou. With a railway bloke. She said thereto that she had seen many births of women but never was none so hard as was that woman’s birth. Hell, blast ye! Scoot. He may suffer their memory to grow dim, let them be as though they had not been and all but persuade himself that they were not or at least were otherwise. She was leading the field. Madden up. With these words he approached the goblet to his lips, took a complacent draught of the cordial, slicked his hair and, opening his bosom, out popped a locket that hung from a silk riband, that very picture which he had cherished ever since her hand had wrote therein. Leop. That, sir, was once a prosperous cit. I am positive when I say that if need were I could produce a cloud of witnesses to the excellence of her noble exercitations which, so far from being a byword, should be a glorious incentive in the human breast. Hide my blushes someone. And how I am punished! The inferno has no terrors for me. How’s that? Leg before wicket. Whereat Crotthers of Alba Longa sang young Malachi’s praise of that beast the unicorn how once in the millennium he cometh by his horn, the other all this while, pricked forward with their jibes wherewith they did malice him, witnessing all and several by saint Foutinus his engines that he was able to do any manner of thing that lay in man to do. Here’s to us. Cot’s plood and prandypalls, none! Not a pite of sheeses? Thrust syphilis down to hell and with him those other licensed spirits. His soul is far away. The aged sisters draw us into life: we wail, batten, sport, clip, clasp, sunder, dwindle, die: over us dead they bend. A tear fell: one only. Remember, Erin, thy generations and thy days of old, how thou settedst little by me and by my word and broughtedst in a stranger to my gates to commit fornication in my sight and to wax fat and kick like Jeshurum. Criminal diversion? I think that yes. It is as painful perhaps to be awakened from a vision as to be born. Bartle the Bread we calls him. Mount street way. Me? If she who seduced me had left but the name. Came now the storm that hist his heart. Rugger. So be off now, says he, and do all my cousin german the lord Harry tells you and take a farmer’s blessing, and with that he slapped his posteriors very soundly. Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa!
The flag fell and, huuh! off, scamper, the mare ran out freshly with O. If he must dispense his balm of Gilead in nostrums and apothegms of dubious taste to restore to health a generation of unfledged profligates let his practice consist better with the doctrines that now engross him. And full fair cheer and rich was on the board that no wight could devise a fuller ne richer. God, I thank thee, as the Author of my days! Thrice happy will he be whom so amiable a creature will bless with her favours. Like ole Billyo. Wherein, O wretched company, were ye all deceived for that was the voice of the god that was in a very grievous rage that he would presently lift his arm up and spill their souls for their abuses and their spillings done by them contrariwise to his word which forth to bring brenningly biddeth.
Hide my blushes someone. Madden, T. And the traveller Leopold said that he should go otherwhither for he was a man of cautels and a subtile. Which hearing young Stephen was a marvellous glad man and he averred that he who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord for he was of a wild manner when he was drunken and that he was now in that taking it appeared eftsoons.
It was now for more than the middle span of our allotted years that he had passed through the thousand vicissitudes of existence and, being of a wary ascendancy and self a man of rare forecast, he had enjoined his heart to repress all motions of a rising choler and, by intercepting them with the readiest precaution, foster within his breast that plenitude of sufferance which base minds jeer at, rash judgers scorn and all find tolerable and but tolerable. All she there told him, ruing death for friend so young, algate sore unwilling God’s rightwiseness to withsay. Dinna forget the cowslips for hersel. His project, as he went on to expound, was to withdraw from the round of idle pleasures such as form the chief business of sir Fopling Popinjay and sir Milksop Quidnunc in town and to devote himself to the noblest task for which our bodily organism has been framed. Tight. Name and memory solace thee not. Pflaaaap!
And how I am punished! The inferno has no terrors for me. Rows of cast. The impression made by his words was immediate but shortlived. Truest bedthanes they twain are, for Horne holding wariest ward.
Hell, blast ye! Scoot. Fertiliser and Incubator. When for Irelandear. And they said farther she should live because in the beginning, they said, the woman should bring forth in pain and wherefore they that were of this imagination affirmed how young Madden had said truth for he had conscience to let her die. Not a red at me this week gone. In vain the voice of Mr Canvasser Bloom was heard endeavouring to urge, to mollify, to refrain. Any object, intensely regarded, may be a gate of access to the incorruptible eon of the gods. Bloom there for a languor he had but was now better, he having dreamed tonight a strange fancy of his dame Mrs Moll with red slippers on in a pair of Turkey trunks which is thought by those in ken to be for a change and Mistress Purefoy there, that got in through pleading her belly, and now on the stools, poor body, two days past her term, the midwives sore put to it and can’t deliver, she queasy for a bowl of riceslop that is a shrewd drier up of the insides and her breath very heavy more than good and should be a bullyboy from the knocks, they say, but God give her soon issue. Me nantee saltee. One time he would be a playactor, then a sutler or a welsher, then nought would keep him from the bearpit and the cocking main, then he was for the ocean sea or to hoof it on the roads with the romany folk, kidnapping a squire’s heir by favour of moonlight or fecking maids’ linen or choking chicken behind a hedge. At the risk of her own, was the telling rejoinder of his interlocutor, none the less effective for the moderate and measured tone in which it was delivered.
The first, said she (and here my pretty philosopher, as I handed her to her tilbury, to fix my attention, gently tipped with her tongue the outer chamber of my ear), the first is a bath.. Mark me now. Glad after she was that ere adread was. The debaters were the keenest in the land, the theme they were engaged on the loftiest and most vital. Trumpery insanity. You coming long? Whisper, who the sooty hell’s the johnny in the black duds? Hush! Sinned against the light and even now that day is at hand when he shall come to judge the world by fire. Crotthers (Disc. Burke’s! Burke’s! Thence they advanced five parasangs. Woman’s woe with wonder pondering.
Bet your boots on. D’ye ken bare socks? Seedy cuss in the Richmond? Rawthere! Thought he had a deposit of lead in his penis. The dressy young blade said it was her husband’s that put her in that expectation or at least it ought to be unless she were another Ephesian matron. Password. May Allah the Excellent One your soul this night ever tremendously conserve.
Landlord, landlord, have you good wine, staboo? Hoots, mon, a wee drap to pree. Vegetables, forsooth, and sterile cohabitation! Give her beefsteaks, red, raw, bleeding! She is a hoary pandemonium of ills, enlarged glands, mumps, quinsy, bunions, hayfever, bedsores, ringworm, floating kidney, Derbyshire neck, warts, bilious attacks, gallstones, cold feet, varicose veins. There’s as good fish in this tin as ever came out of it and very friendly he offered to take of some salty sprats that stood by which he had eyed wishly in the meantime and found the place which was indeed the chief design of his embassy as he was sharpset. Full she drad that God the Wreaker all mankind would fordo with water for his evil sins. Full of a dure. Enter that antechamber of birth where the studious are assembled and note their faces. Me? If she who seduced me had left but the name. Lane. You not come? Run, skelter, race. Mullee! What’s on you? Ma mère m’a mariée. The seer raised his hand to heaven, murmuring: The vendetta of Mananaun! The sage repeated: Lex talionis. Mort aux vaches, says Frank then in the French language that had been indentured to a brandyshipper that has a winelodge in Bordeaux and he spoke French like a gentleman too. Proceed to nearest canteen and there annex liquor stores. All she there told him, ruing death for friend so young, algate sore unwilling God’s rightwiseness to withsay. There’s a great big holy friar. Les petites femmes. Yet a chance word will call them forth suddenly and they will rise up to confront him in the most various circumstances, a vision or a dream, or while timbrel and harp soothe his senses or amid the cool silver tranquility of the evening or at the feast, at midnight, when he is now filled with wine. Pull down the blind, love. He took his ordinary at a boilingcook’s and if he had but gotten into him a mess of broken victuals or a platter of tripes with a bare tester in his purse he could always bring himself off with his tongue, some randy quip he had from a punk or whatnot that every mother’s son of them would burst their sides. The bedside manner it is that they use in the Mater hospice. Had the winner today till I tipped him a dead cert. He’s the grandest thing yet and don’t you forget it. Dixon follows giving them sharp language but raps out an oath, he too, and on. There is none now to be for Leopold, what Leopold was for Rudolph.
He is older now (you and I may whisper it) and a trifle stooped in the shoulders yet in the whirligig of years a grave dignity has come to the conscientious second accountant of the Ulster bank, College Green branch. Yooka. Christicle, who’s this excrement yellow gospeller on the Merrion hall? Elijah is coming! Washed in the blood of the Lamb. His words were then these as followeth: Know all men, he said, time’s ruins build eternity’s mansions. Tears gushed from the eyes of the dissipated host. O thing of prudent nation not merely in being seen but also even in being related worthy of being praised that they her by anticipation went seeing mother, that she by them suddenly to be about to be cherished had been begun she felt!
Lovey lovekin. Mr Dixon, to turn the table, took on to ask of Mr Mulligan himself whether his incipient ventripotence, upon which he rallied him, betokened an ovoblastic gestation in the prostatic utricle or male womb or was due, as with the noted physician, Mr Austin Meldon, to a wolf in the stomach. Madden, T. May Allah the Excellent One your soul this night ever tremendously conserve.
Checkmate. And the traveller Leopold was couth to him sithen it had happed that they had had ado each with other in the house of misericord where this learningknight lay by cause the traveller Leopold came there to be healed for he was sore wounded in his breast by a spear wherewith a horrible and dreadful dragon was smitten him for which he did do make a salve of volatile salt and chrism as much as he might suffice. The other problem raised by the same inquirer is scarcely less vital: infant mortality. O Doady, loved one of old, faithful lifemate now, it may never be again, that faroff time of the roses! With the old shake of her pretty head she recalls those days. Ours the white death and the ruddy birth. Scep.) contentions would appear to prove him pretty badly addicted runs directly counter to accepted scientific methods. So stood they there both awhile in wanhope sorrowing one with other.
Trumpery insanity. Peep at his wearables. See, thy fleece is drenched. Dignam laid in clay of an apoplexy and after hard drought, please God, rained, a bargeman coming in by water a fifty mile or thereabout with turf saying the seed won’t sprout, fields athirst, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the quags and tofts too. Bloom there for a languor he had but was now better, he having dreamed tonight a strange fancy of his dame Mrs Moll with red slippers on in a pair of Turkey trunks which is thought by those in ken to be for a change and Mistress Purefoy there, that got in through pleading her belly, and now on the stools, poor body, two days past her term, the midwives sore put to it and can’t deliver, she queasy for a bowl of riceslop that is a shrewd drier up of the insides and her breath very heavy more than good and should be a bullyboy from the knocks, they say, but God give her soon issue. The least tholice. He drank indeed at one draught to pluck up a heart of any grace for it thundered long rumblingly over all the heavens so that Master Madden, being godly certain whiles, knocked him on his ribs upon that crack of doom and Master Bloom, at the braggart’s side, spoke to him calming words to slumber his great fear, advertising how it was no other thing but a hubbub noise that he heard, the discharge of fluid from the thunderhead, look you, having taken place, and all of the order of a natural phenomenon.
The first, said she (and here my pretty philosopher, as I handed her to her tilbury, to fix my attention, gently tipped with her tongue the outer chamber of my ear), the first is a bath.. But the braggart boaster cried that an old Nobodaddy was in his cups it was muchwhat indifferent and he would not lag behind his lead. The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a thing done. A shaven space of lawn one soft May evening, the wellremembered grove of lilacs at Roundtown, purple and white, fragrant slender spectators of the game but with much real interest in the pellets as they run slowly forward over the sward or collide and stop, one by its fellow, with a brief alert shock. They all admired to see the foresaid riches in such dearth of money as was herebefore. Caraway seed to carry away. Nothing, as it seems, there of rash or violent. Faith, no, he says, Frank (that was his name), ‘tis all about Kerry cows that are to be butchered along of the plague. Ise de cutest colour coon down our side. He is older now (you and I may whisper it) and a trifle stooped in the shoulders yet in the whirligig of years a grave dignity has come to the conscientious second accountant of the Ulster bank, College Green branch. He was gone. Laetabuntur in cubilibus suis. Rugger. And these fishes lie in an oily water brought there from Portugal land because of the fatness that therein is like to the juices of the olivepress. In woman’s womb word is made flesh but in the spirit of the maker all flesh that passes becomes the word that shall not pass away. Cleave to her! Serve! Toil on, labour like a very bandog and let scholarment and all Malthusiasts go hang. Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs battleships, buggery and bishops. Cut up! Pflaap! Tally ho. I.) is the able and popular master, he is reported by eyewitnesses as having stated that once a woman has let the cat into the bag (an esthete’s allusion, presumably, to one of the most complicated and marvellous of all nature’s processes—the act of sexual congress) she must let it out again or give it life, as he phrased it, to save her own. Ominous revengeful zodiacal host! They moan, passing upon the clouds, horned and capricorned, the trumpeted with the tusked, the lionmaned, the giantantlered, snouter and crawler, rodent, ruminant and pachyderm, all their moving moaning multitude, murderers of the sun.
et Eug. I bade him hold himself in readiness for that the event would burst anon. We fall. What means this? Desire’s wind blasts the thorntree but after it becomes from a bramblebush to be a rose upon the rood of time. I must acquaint you, said Mr Crotthers, clapping on the table so as to evoke a resonant comment of emphasis, old Glory Allelujurum was round again today, an elderly man with dundrearies, preferring through his nose a request to have word of Wilhelmina, my life, as he calls her. On the road to Malahide. Know his dona? Yup, sartin I do. Nine twelve bloodflows chiding her childless.
He took his ordinary at a boilingcook’s and if he had but gotten into him a mess of broken victuals or a platter of tripes with a bare tester in his purse he could always bring himself off with his tongue, some randy quip he had from a punk or whatnot that every mother’s son of them would burst their sides. All hearts were beating. Yooka. Wha gev ye thon colt? Pal to pal. Stark ruth of man his errand that him lone led till that house.
A pregnancy without joy, he said, a birth without pangs, a body without blemish, a belly without bigness. Bonsoir la compagnie. The man hearkened to her words for he felt with wonder women’s woe in the travail that they have of motherhood and he wondered to look on her face that was a fair face for any man to see but yet was she left after long years a handmaid. Cribbed out of Meredith. He could not leave his mother an orphan. Mark me now. But, said he, or it be long too she will bring forth by God His bounty and have joy of her childing for she hath waited marvellous long. Slung her hook, she did. And sir Leopold sat with them for he bore fast friendship to sir Simon and to this his son young Stephen and for that his languor becalmed him there after longest wanderings insomuch as they feasted him for that time in the honourablest manner. Juno, she cried, I am undone. I’ll make that animal smell hell, says he, with the help of that good pizzle my father left me. Master Lenehan at this made return that he had heard of those nefarious deeds and how, as he heard hereof counted, he had besmirched the lily virtue of a confiding female which was corruption of minors and they all intershowed it too, waxing merry and toasting to his fathership. O, cheese it! Shut his blurry Dutch oven with a firm hand. She had fought the good fight and now she was very very happy. By heaven, Theodore Purefoy, thou hast done a doughty deed and no botch! Thou art, I vow, the remarkablest progenitor barring none in this chaffering allincluding most farraginous chronicle. Also the lady was of his avis and repreved the learningknight though she trowed well that the traveller had said thing that was false for his subtility. He was laying his hand upon a winejar: Malachi saw it and withheld his act, pointing to the stranger and to the scarlet label. To whom young Stephen had these words following: Murmur, sirs, is eke oft among lay folk. Peep at his wearables. Dittoh. Mercy on the luckless! Poor Sceptre! he said with a light sigh. But the word of Mr Costello was an unwelcome language for him for he nauseated the wretch that seemed to him a cropeared creature of a misshapen gibbosity, born out of wedlock and thrust like a crookback toothed and feet first into the world, which the dint of the surgeon’s pliers in his skull lent indeed a colour to, so as to put him in thought of that missing link of creation’s chain desiderated by the late ingenious Mr Darwin. No touch kicking. Tuck and turn in. Play low, pardner. Look slippery. And they teach the serpents there to entwine themselves up on long sticks out of the ground and of the scales of these serpents they brew out a brewage like to mead.
Who’s astanding this here do? Proud possessor of damnall. Tuck and turn in.
‘Tis her ninth chick to live, I hear, and Lady day bit off her last chick’s nails that was then a twelvemonth and with other three all breastfed that died written out in a fair hand in the king’s bible. To conclude, while from the sister’s words he had reckoned upon a speedy delivery he was, however, it must be owned, not a little alleviated by the intelligence that the issue so auspicated after an ordeal of such duress now testified once more to the mercy as well as to the bounty of the Supreme Being.
But this was only to dye his desperation as cowed he crouched in Horne’s hall. Yook. On the road to Malahide. I put it to you that He’s on the square and a corking fine business proposition. This is the appearance is on me. Crotthers was there at the foot of the table in his striking Highland garb, his face glowing from the briny airs of the Mull of Galloway. Bannon in a cut bob (which are now in with dance cloaks of Kendal green) that was new got to town from Mullingar with the stage where his coz and Mal M’s brother will stay a month yet till Saint Swithin and asks what in the earth he does there, he bound home and he to Andrew Horne’s being stayed for to crush a cup of wine, so he said, but would tell him of a skittish heifer, big of her age and beef to the heel, and all this while poured with rain and so both together on to Horne’s. Ise de cutest colour coon down our side. Mr Stephen, a little moved but very handsomely told him no such matter and that he had dispatches from the emperor’s chief tailtickler thanking him for the hospitality, that was sending over Doctor Rinderpest, the bestquoted cowcatcher in all Muscovy, with a bolus or two of physic to take the bull by the horns. Deshil Holles Eamus.
The first, said she (and here my pretty philosopher, as I handed her to her tilbury, to fix my attention, gently tipped with her tongue the outer chamber of my ear), the first is a bath.. Stunned like, seeing as how no shiners is acoming. Seventy beds keeps he there teeming mothers are wont that they lie for to thole and bring forth bairns hale so God’s angel to Mary quoth. And he sat down in that castle with them for to rest him there awhile. I cannot but extol the virile potency of the old bucko that could still knock another child out of her. But they can go hang, says he with a wink, for me with their bully beef, a pox on it. Also the lady was of his avis and repreved the learningknight though she trowed well that the traveller had said thing that was false for his subtility. To conclude, while from the sister’s words he had reckoned upon a speedy delivery he was, however, it must be owned, not a little alleviated by the intelligence that the issue so auspicated after an ordeal of such duress now testified once more to the mercy as well as to the bounty of the Supreme Being.
O, cheese it! Shut his blurry Dutch oven with a firm hand. Dope is my only hope.. Proceed to nearest canteen and there annex liquor stores. Well, let us hear of it, good my friend, said Mr Dixon. She had. Whatever in that one case done commodiously done was. In colour whereof they waxed hot upon that head what with argument and what for their drinking but the franklin Lenehan was prompt each when to pour them ale so that at the least way mirth might not lack. Hurrah there, Dix! Forward to the ribbon counter. For answer Mr Mulligan, in a gale of laughter at his smalls, smote himself bravely below the diaphragm, exclaiming with an admirable droll mimic of Mother Grogan (the most excellent creature of her sex though ‘tis pity she’s a trollop): There’s a belly that never bore a bastard. Jappies? High angle fire, inyah! Sunk by war specials. Doc.) blames the sanitary conditions in which our greylunged citizens contract adenoids, pulmonary complaints etc. I hear you say onions? Bloo? Cadges ads. Surprise, horror, loathing were depicted on all faces while he eyed them with a ghostly grin. When he had betaken himself to the women’s apartment to assist at the prescribed ceremony of the afterbirth in the presence of the secretary of state for domestic affairs and the members of the privy council, silent in unanimous exhaustion and approbation the delegates, chafing under the length and solemnity of their vigil and hoping that the joyful occurrence would palliate a licence which the simultaneous absence of abigail and obstetrician rendered the easier, broke out at once into a strife of tongues. Dignam laid in clay of an apoplexy and after hard drought, please God, rained, a bargeman coming in by water a fifty mile or thereabout with turf saying the seed won’t sprout, fields athirst, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the quags and tofts too. Venus Pandemos. How young she was and radiant (Lalage were scarce fair beside her) in her yellow shoes and frock of muslin, I do not know the right name of it. His project meanwhile was very favourably entertained by his auditors and won hearty eulogies from all though Mr Dixon of Mary’s excepted to it, asking with a finicking air did he purpose also to carry coals to Newcastle. The man of science like the man in the street has to face hardheaded facts that cannot be blinked and explain them as best he can. Malachias, overcome by emotion, ceased. Pardon? Seen him today at a runefal? Chum o’ yourn passed in his checks? Ludamassy! Pore piccaninnies! Thou’ll no be telling me thot, Pold veg! Did ums blubble bigsplash crytears cos fren Padney was took off in black bag? Of all de darkies Massa Pat was verra best. Bacc.) attributes some of these demises to abdominal trauma in the case of women workers subjected to heavy labours in the workshop and to marital discipline in the home but by far the vast majority to neglect, private or official, culminating in the exposure of newborn infants, the practice of criminal abortion or in the atrocious crime of infanticide. Master Lenehan at this made return that he had heard of those nefarious deeds and how, as he heard hereof counted, he had besmirched the lily virtue of a confiding female which was corruption of minors and they all intershowed it too, waxing merry and toasting to his fathership. For who is there who anything of some significance has apprehended but is conscious that that exterior splendour may be the surface of a downwardtending lutulent reality or on the contrary anyone so is there unilluminated as not to perceive that as no nature’s boon can contend against the bounty of increase so it behoves every most just citizen to become the exhortator and admonisher of his semblables and to tremble lest what had in the past been by the nation excellently commenced might be in the future not with similar excellence accomplished if an inverecund habit shall have gradually traduced the honourable by ancestors transmitted customs to that thither of profundity that that one was audacious excessively who would have the hardihood to rise affirming that no more odious offence can for anyone be than to oblivious neglect to consign that evangel simultaneously command and promise which on all mortals with prophecy of abundance or with diminution’s menace that exalted of reiteratedly procreating function ever irrevocably enjoined?
With a railway bloke. She follows her mother with ungainly steps, a mare leading her fillyfoal. Lynch, a Scots fellow, Will. Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. None of your lean kine, not much. Twilight phantoms are they, yet moulded in prophetic grace of structure, slim shapely haunches, a supple tendonous neck, the meek apprehensive skull. Les petites femmes. A gallant scene in truth it made. Breathe it deep into thee. Be not afeard neither for any want for this will comfort more than the other will dismay. Here, Jock braw Hielentman’s your barleybree. It is she, Martha, thou lost one, Millicent, the young, the dear, the radiant. What rider is like him? Mount him on the camel or the boisterous buffalo the victory in a hack canter is still his. And on the highway of the clouds they come, muttering thunder of rebellion, the ghosts of beasts. Cot’s plood and prandypalls, none! Not a pite of sheeses? Thrust syphilis down to hell and with him those other licensed spirits. That is truth, pardy, said Dixon, and, or I err, a pregnant word. He was a kind of sport gentleman that went for a merryandrew or honest pickle and what belonged of women, horseflesh or hot scandal he had it pat. Yooka. Police! Some H2O for a gent fainted. Murderer’s ground.
The spider pitches her web in the solitude. Twilight phantoms are they, yet moulded in prophetic grace of structure, slim shapely haunches, a supple tendonous neck, the meek apprehensive skull. He was simply and solely, as it subsequently transpired for reasons best known to himself, which put quite an altogether different complexion on the proceedings, after the moment before’s observations about boyhood days and the turf, recollecting two or three private transactions of his own which the other two were as mutually innocent of as the babe unborn. He drank indeed at one draught to pluck up a heart of any grace for it thundered long rumblingly over all the heavens so that Master Madden, being godly certain whiles, knocked him on his ribs upon that crack of doom and Master Bloom, at the braggart’s side, spoke to him calming words to slumber his great fear, advertising how it was no other thing but a hubbub noise that he heard, the discharge of fluid from the thunderhead, look you, having taken place, and all of the order of a natural phenomenon.
On her stow he ere was living with dear wife and lovesome daughter that then over land and seafloor nine years had long outwandered. Chase me, the cabby’s caudle. All desire to see you bring forth the work you meditate, to acclaim you Stephaneforos. Boniface! Absinthe the lot. I put it to you that He’s on the square and a corking fine business proposition. First, saved from waters of old Nile, among bulrushes, a bed of fasciated wattles: at last the cavity of a mountain, an occulted sepulchre amid the conclamation of the hillcat and the ossifrage. I heartily wish you may not fail them. Léo Taxil nous a dit que qui l’avait mise dans cette fichue position c’était le sacré pigeon, ventre de Dieu! Entweder transubstantiality oder consubstantiality but in no case subsubstantiality. To curb this inconvenient (which he concluded due to a suppression of latent heat), having advised with certain counsellors of worth and inspected into this matter, he had resolved to purchase in fee simple for ever the freehold of Lambay island from its holder, lord Talbot de Malahide, a Tory gentleman of note much in favour with our ascendancy party. Horne is lord. Then, with the water running off him, he got into an old smock and skirt that had belonged to his grandmother and bought a grammar of the bulls’ language to study but he could never learn a word of it except the first personal pronoun which he copied out big and got off by heart and if ever he went out for a walk he filled his pockets with chalk to write it upon what took his fancy, the side of a rock or a teahouse table or a bale of cotton or a corkfloat. The man of science like the man in the street has to face hardheaded facts that cannot be blinked and explain them as best he can. Ise de cutest colour coon down our side. Full of a dure. The scent, the smile, but, more than these, the dark eyes and oleaginous address, brought home at duskfall many a commission to the head of the firm, seated with Jacob’s pipe after like labours in the paternal ingle (a meal of noodles, you may be sure, is aheating), reading through round horned spectacles some paper from the Europe of a month before. Where you slep las nigh? Timothy of the battered naggin. All in if he spots me. Lo, levin leaping lightens in eyeblink Ireland’s westward welkin. Schedule time. Shiver my timbers if I had. Mark me now. He is young Leopold. There’s eleven of them. Drink, man, an udderful! Mother’s milk, Purefoy, the milk of human kin, milk too of those burgeoning stars overhead rutilant in thin rainvapour, punch milk, such as those rioters will quaff in their guzzling den, milk of madness, the honeymilk of Canaan’s land. One umbrella, were it no bigger than a fairy mushroom, is worth ten such stopgaps. And Doady, knock the ashes from your pipe, the seasoned briar you still fancy when the curfew rings for you (may it be the distant day!) and dout the light whereby you read in the Sacred Book for the oil too has run low, and so with a tranquil heart to bed, to rest. in Midw., F. His project meanwhile was very favourably entertained by his auditors and won hearty eulogies from all though Mr Dixon of Mary’s excepted to it, asking with a finicking air did he purpose also to carry coals to Newcastle. There’s a great big holy friar. Phyllis was silent: her eyes were sad anemones. Scrum in. No, Leopold. One umbrella, were it no bigger than a fairy mushroom, is worth ten such stopgaps. Copulation without population! No, say I! Herod’s slaughter of the innocents were the truer name. by inhaling the bacteria which lurk in dust. Tell her I was axing at her. See, thy fleece is drenched. Righto, any old time. His soul is far away. Where were they now? Neither knew. Look at Bantam’s flowers. For answer Mr Mulligan, in a gale of laughter at his smalls, smote himself bravely below the diaphragm, exclaiming with an admirable droll mimic of Mother Grogan (the most excellent creature of her sex though ‘tis pity she’s a trollop): There’s a belly that never bore a bastard. Mr Mulligan, now perceiving the table, asked for whom were those loaves and fishes and, seeing the stranger, he made him a civil bow and said, Pray, sir, was you in need of any professional assistance we could give? Who, upon his offer, thanked him very heartily, though preserving his proper distance, and replied that he was come there about a lady, now an inmate of Horne’s house, that was in an interesting condition, poor body, from woman’s woe (and here he fetched a deep sigh) to know if her happiness had yet taken place. Mr S. The end comes suddenly. Leave ye fraction of bread to them that live by bread alone. We are means to those small creatures within us and nature has other ends than we. Hi! Spit in your own eye, boss! Mummer’s wire.
‘Tis her ninth chick to live, I hear, and Lady day bit off her last chick’s nails that was then a twelvemonth and with other three all breastfed that died written out in a fair hand in the king’s bible. You larn that go off of they there Frenchy bilks? Won’t wash here for nuts nohow. A couch by midwives attended with wholesome food reposeful, cleanest swaddles as though forthbringing were now done and by wise foresight set: but to this no less of what drugs there is need and surgical implements which are pertaining to her case not omitting aspect of all very distracting spectacles in various latitudes by our terrestrial orb offered together with images, divine and human, the cogitation of which by sejunct females is to tumescence conducive or eases issue in the high sunbright wellbuilt fair home of mothers when, ostensibly far gone and reproductitive, it is come by her thereto to lie in, her term up.
Even Phyllis could not contain herself. The man then right earnest asked the nun of which death the dead man was died and the nun answered him and said that he was died in Mona Island through bellycrab three year agone come Childermas and she prayed to God the Allruthful to have his dear soul in his undeathliness. All she there told him, ruing death for friend so young, algate sore unwilling God’s rightwiseness to withsay. Madden, T. Tention. That man her will wotting worthful went in Horne’s house.
Enter that antechamber of birth where the studious are assembled and note their faces. Money was no object, he said, nor would he take a penny for his pains. He would have withdrawn from the feast had not the noise of voices allayed the smart. Stap my vitals, said he, them was always the sentiments of honest Frank Costello which I was bred up most particular to honour thy father and thy mother that had the best hand to a rolypoly or a hasty pudding as you ever see what I always looks back on with a loving heart.
Cut and come again. The moment was too propitious for the display of that discursiveness which seemed the only bond of union among tempers so divergent. Let the lewd with faith and fervour worship. Eventually, however, both their eyes met and as soon as it began to dawn on him that the other was endeavouring to help himself to the thing he involuntarily determined to help him himself and so he accordingly took hold of the neck of the mediumsized glass recipient which contained the fluid sought after and made a capacious hole in it by pouring a lot of it out with, also at the same time, however, a considerable degree of attentiveness in order not to upset any of the beer that was in it about the place.
Art drooping under thy load, bemoiled with butcher’s bills at home and ingots (not thine!) in the countinghouse? Head up! For every newbegotten thou shalt gather thy homer of ripe wheat. Crickey, I’m about sprung. Mona, my true love. A couch by midwives attended with wholesome food reposeful, cleanest swaddles as though forthbringing were now done and by wise foresight set: but to this no less of what drugs there is need and surgical implements which are pertaining to her case not omitting aspect of all very distracting spectacles in various latitudes by our terrestrial orb offered together with images, divine and human, the cogitation of which by sejunct females is to tumescence conducive or eases issue in the high sunbright wellbuilt fair home of mothers when, ostensibly far gone and reproductitive, it is come by her thereto to lie in, her term up.
Righto, Isaacs, shove em out of the bleeding limelight. Scrum in. Mulligan (Hyg. Which hearing young Stephen was a marvellous glad man and he averred that he who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord for he was of a wild manner when he was drunken and that he was now in that taking it appeared eftsoons.
And would he not accept to die like the rest and pass away? By no means would he though he must nor would he make more shows according as men do with wives which Phenomenon has commanded them to do by the book Law. Merciful providence had been pleased to put a period to the sufferings of the lady who was enceinte which she had borne with a laudable fortitude and she had given birth to a bouncing boy. Tuck and turn in. At the risk of her own, was the telling rejoinder of his interlocutor, none the less effective for the moderate and measured tone in which it was delivered.
After this homily which he delivered with much warmth of asseveration Mr Mulligan in a trice put off from his hat a kerchief with which he had shielded it. Léo Taxil nous a dit que qui l’avait mise dans cette fichue position c’était le sacré pigeon, ventre de Dieu! Entweder transubstantiality oder consubstantiality but in no case subsubstantiality. Bannon in a cut bob (which are now in with dance cloaks of Kendal green) that was new got to town from Mullingar with the stage where his coz and Mal M’s brother will stay a month yet till Saint Swithin and asks what in the earth he does there, he bound home and he to Andrew Horne’s being stayed for to crush a cup of wine, so he said, but would tell him of a skittish heifer, big of her age and beef to the heel, and all this while poured with rain and so both together on to Horne’s. Tanks you.
No longer is Leopold, as he sits there, ruminating, chewing the cud of reminiscence, that staid agent of publicity and holder of a modest substance in the funds. But the word of Mr Costello was an unwelcome language for him for he nauseated the wretch that seemed to him a cropeared creature of a misshapen gibbosity, born out of wedlock and thrust like a crookback toothed and feet first into the world, which the dint of the surgeon’s pliers in his skull lent indeed a colour to, so as to put him in thought of that missing link of creation’s chain desiderated by the late ingenious Mr Darwin. What say? In the speakeasy. Pflaaaap!
Righto, Isaacs, shove em out of the bleeding limelight. And so time wags on: but father Cronion has dealt lightly here. Hurrah there, Dix! Forward to the ribbon counter. Come, be seated, both. He is older now (you and I may whisper it) and a trifle stooped in the shoulders yet in the whirligig of years a grave dignity has come to the conscientious second accountant of the Ulster bank, College Green branch. She said that he had a fair sweet death through God His goodness with masspriest to be shriven, holy housel and sick men’s oil to his limbs. I can scarce believe ‘tis so bad, says he. She had. Omnis caro ad te veniet. There wanted nothing but this cup to crown my felicity. Look slippery. For this relief much thanks. Roun wi the nappy. A sigh of affection gave eloquence to these words and, having replaced the locket in his bosom, he wiped his eye and sighed again. Come, come, says Mr Vincent, plain dealing. You larn that go off of they there Frenchy bilks? Won’t wash here for nuts nohow. I declare, I was never so touched in all my life. Haines! Which of us did not feel his flesh creep! He had a portfolio full of Celtic literature in one hand, in the other a phial marked Poison. Trample the trampellers. Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa!
Master Lenehan at this made return that he had heard of those nefarious deeds and how, as he heard hereof counted, he had besmirched the lily virtue of a confiding female which was corruption of minors and they all intershowed it too, waxing merry and toasting to his fathership. Lynch, a Scots fellow, Will. The adiaphane in the noon of life is an Egypt’s plague which in the nights of prenativity and postmortemity is their most proper ubi and quomodo.
A man’s a man for a’ that.
Mr Dixon, to turn the table, took on to ask of Mr Mulligan himself whether his incipient ventripotence, upon which he rallied him, betokened an ovoblastic gestation in the prostatic utricle or male womb or was due, as with the noted physician, Mr Austin Meldon, to a wolf in the stomach. Got bet be a boomblebee whenever he wus settin sleepin in hes bit garten. For this relief much thanks. Arith.) that both natality and mortality, as well as all other phenomena of evolution, tidal movements, lunar phases, blood temperatures, diseases in general, everything, in fine, in nature’s vast workshop from the extinction of some remote sun to the blossoming of one of the countless flowers which beautify our public parks is subject to a law of numeration as yet unascertained. Silentium! Get a spurt on. He strike a telegramboy paddock wire big bug Bass to the depot. Hard to breathe and all the young quicks clean consumed without sprinkle this long while back as no man remembered to be without. Ex!
You not come? Run, skelter, race. Madden up. Decamping. There is none now to be for Leopold, what Leopold was for Rudolph.
Glad after she was that ere adread was. That answer and those leaves, Vincent said to him, will adorn you more fitly when something more, and greatly more, than a capful of light odes can call your genius father. Not but what he could feel with mettlesome youth which, caring nought for the mows of dotards or the gruntlings of the severe, is ever (as the chaste fancy of the Holy Writer expresses it) for eating of the tree forbid it yet not so far forth as to pretermit humanity upon any condition soever towards a gentlewoman when she was about her lawful occasions. All desire to see you bring forth the work you meditate, to acclaim you Stephaneforos. And he showed them glistering coins of the tribute and goldsmith notes the worth of two pound nineteen shilling that he had, he said, for a song which he writ. Omnis caro ad te veniet. Do you remember her, Vincent? I wish you could have seen my queen today, Vincent said. Lawksamercy, doctor, cried the young blood in the primrose vest, feigning a womanish simper and with immodest squirmings of his body, how you do tease a body! Drat the man! Bless me, I’m all of a wibbly wobbly. And how I am punished! The inferno has no terrors for me. And as no man knows the ubicity of his tumulus nor to what processes we shall thereby be ushered nor whether to Tophet or to Edenville in the like way is all hidden when we would backward see from what region of remoteness the whatness of our whoness hath fetched his whenceness.
Heard he then in that clap the voice of the god Bringforth or, what Calmer said, a hubbub of Phenomenon? Heard? Why, he could not but hear unless he had plugged him up the tube Understanding (which he had not done) Tight. It is that same bull that was sent to our island by farmer Nicholas, the bravest cattlebreeder of them all, with an emerald ring in his nose. It had been a weary weary while both for patient and doctor. And he showed them glistering coins of the tribute and goldsmith notes the worth of two pound nineteen shilling that he had, he said, for a song which he writ. When Conmee had passed she glanced at her lovely echo in that little mirror she carries. Still the plain straightforward question why a child of normally healthy parents and seemingly a healthy child and properly looked after succumbs unaccountably in early childhood (though other children of the same marriage do not) must certainly, in the poet’s words, give us pause. She had. A couch by midwives attended with wholesome food reposeful, cleanest swaddles as though forthbringing were now done and by wise foresight set: but to this no less of what drugs there is need and surgical implements which are pertaining to her case not omitting aspect of all very distracting spectacles in various latitudes by our terrestrial orb offered together with images, divine and human, the cogitation of which by sejunct females is to tumescence conducive or eases issue in the high sunbright wellbuilt fair home of mothers when, ostensibly far gone and reproductitive, it is come by her thereto to lie in, her term up.
Time all. Hauding Sara by the wame. Name and memory solace thee not. Those who have passed on, who have gone before, are happy too as they gaze down and smile upon the touching scene. We’re nae tha fou. With thee it was not as with many that will and would and wait and never—do. Now he is himself paternal and these about him might be his sons. Stap my vitals, said he, them was always the sentiments of honest Frank Costello which I was bred up most particular to honour thy father and thy mother that had the best hand to a rolypoly or a hasty pudding as you ever see what I always looks back on with a loving heart.
I conceive you, says Mr Dixon. Do you not think it, Stephen? Theosophos told me so, Stephen answered, whom in a previous existence Egyptian priests initiated into the mysteries of karmic law. Brigade! Bout ship. Pflaap! Ut implerentur scripturae. Haines! Which of us did not feel his flesh creep! He had a portfolio full of Celtic literature in one hand, in the other a phial marked Poison. The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a thing done. Who’s astanding this here do? Proud possessor of damnall. Be not afeard neither for any want for this will comfort more than the other will dismay.
‘Tis as cheap sitting as standing. Bridie! Bridie Kelly! He will never forget the name, ever remember the night: first night, the bridenight. O lust our refuge and our strength. The lonely house by the graveyard is uninhabited. Breathe it deep into thee. Or it is the same figure, a year or so gone over, in his first hard hat (ah, that was a day!), already on the road, a fullfledged traveller for the family firm, equipped with an orderbook, a scented handkerchief (not for show only), his case of bright trinketware (alas! a thing now of the past!) and a quiverful of compliant smiles for this or that halfwon housewife reckoning it out upon her fingertips or for a budding virgin, shyly acknowledging (but the heart? tell me!) his studied baisemoins. He drank drugs to obliterate. Gazing upon those features with a world of tenderness, Ah, Monsieur, he said, had you but beheld her as I did with these eyes at that affecting instant with her dainty tucker and her new coquette cap (a gift for her feastday as she told me prettily) in such an artless disorder, of so melting a tenderness, ‘pon my conscience, even you, Monsieur, had been impelled by generous nature to deliver yourself wholly into the hands of such an enemy or to quit the field for ever. Sir, to you my hand. Of John Thomas, her spouse. Dedalus’ (Div. Conmee himself! He was walking by the hedge, reading, I think a brevier book with, I doubt not, a witty letter in it from Glycera or Chloe to keep the page. She is the bride of darkness, a daughter of night. Dedalus’ (Div. Police! Some H2O for a gent fainted. And they teach the serpents there to entwine themselves up on long sticks out of the ground and of the scales of these serpents they brew out a brewage like to mead.
Do you not think it, Stephen? Theosophos told me so, Stephen answered, whom in a previous existence Egyptian priests initiated into the mysteries of karmic law. Hurrah there, Dix! Forward to the ribbon counter. Wha gev ye thon colt? Pal to pal. More like ‘tis the hoose or the timber tongue. Canv.) regarding the future determination of sex. No dollop this but thick rich bonnyclaber. As I look to be saved I had it from my Kitty who has been wardmaid there any time these seven months. Certainly in every public work which in it anything of gravity contains preparation should be with importance commensurate and therefore a plan was by them adopted (whether by having preconsidered or as the maturation of experience it is difficult in being said which the discrepant opinions of subsequent inquirers are not up to the present congrued to render manifest) whereby maternity was so far from all accident possibility removed that whatever care the patient in that allhardest of woman hour chiefly required and not solely for the copiously opulent but also for her who not being sufficiently moneyed scarcely and often not even scarcely could subsist valiantly and for an inconsiderable emolument was provided.
Then she set it all forth to him for because she knew the man that time was had lived nigh that house. And was he then neither calm like the one nor godly like the other? He was neither as much as he would have liked to be either. All fell to praising of it, each after his own fashion, though the same young blade held with his former view that another than her conjugial had been the man in the gap, a clerk in orders, a linkboy (virtuous) or an itinerant vendor of articles needed in every household. Arith.) that both natality and mortality, as well as all other phenomena of evolution, tidal movements, lunar phases, blood temperatures, diseases in general, everything, in fine, in nature’s vast workshop from the extinction of some remote sun to the blossoming of one of the countless flowers which beautify our public parks is subject to a law of numeration as yet unascertained. A murmur of approval arose from all and some were for ejecting the low soaker without more ado, a design which would have been effected nor would he have received more than his bare deserts had he not abridged his transgression by affirming with a horrid imprecation (for he swore a round hand) that he was as good a son of the true fold as ever drew breath. It is as painful perhaps to be awakened from a vision as to be born. There was a sort of scholars along either side the board, that is to wit, Dixon yclept junior of saint Mary Merciable’s with other his fellows Lynch and Madden, scholars of medicine, and the franklin that hight Lenehan and one from Alba Longa, one Crotthers, and young Stephen that had mien of a frere that was at head of the board and Costello that men clepen Punch Costello all long of a mastery of him erewhile gested (and of all them, reserved young Stephen, he was the most drunken that demanded still of more mead) and beside the meek sir Leopold. Tanks you.
Copulation without population! No, say I! Herod’s slaughter of the innocents were the truer name. Yous join uz, dear sir? No hentrusion in life. O Doady, loved one of old, faithful lifemate now, it may never be again, that faroff time of the roses! With the old shake of her pretty head she recalls those days. And she was wondrous stricken of heart for that evil hap and for his burial did him on a fair corselet of lamb’s wool, the flower of the flock, lest he might perish utterly and lie akeled (for it was then about the midst of the winter) and now sir Leopold that had of his body no manchild for an heir looked upon him his friend’s son and was shut up in sorrow for his forepassed happiness and as sad as he was that him failed a son of such gentle courage (for all accounted him of real parts) so grieved he also in no less measure for young Stephen for that he lived riotously with those wastrels and murdered his goods with whores.
Us come right in on your invite, see? Up to you, matey. The presence even for a moment among a party of debauchees of a woman endued with every quality of modesty and not less severe than beautiful refrained the humourous sallies even of the most licentious but her departure was the signal for an outbreak of ribaldry. Cot’s plood and prandypalls, none! Not a pite of sheeses? Thrust syphilis down to hell and with him those other licensed spirits. Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa!
Thunderation! Keep the durned millingtary step. For through that tube he saw that he was in the land of Phenomenon where he must for a certain one day die as he was like the rest too a passing show. My colleen bawn. With will will we withstand, withsay.
Of Israel’s folk was that man that on earth wandering far had fared. Hard to breathe and all the young quicks clean consumed without sprinkle this long while back as no man remembered to be without. Pshaw, I tell thee! He is a mule, a dead gasteropod, without vim or stamina, not worth a cracked kreutzer. We are means to those small creatures within us and nature has other ends than we. Got bet be a boomblebee whenever he wus settin sleepin in hes bit garten. Bloom (Pubb. All hearts were beating. These factors, he alleged, and the revolting spectacles offered by our streets, hideous publicity posters, religious ministers of all denominations, mutilated soldiers and sailors, exposed scorbutic cardrivers, the suspended carcases of dead animals, paranoic bachelors and unfructified duennas—these, he said, were accountable for any and every fallingoff in the calibre of the race. Then said Dixon junior to Punch Costello wist he what ends. And, says Mr Dixon, if ever he got scent of a cattleraider in Roscommon or the wilds of Connemara or a husbandman in Sligo that was sowing as much as a handful of mustard or a bag of rapeseed out he’d run amok over half the countryside rooting up with his horns whatever was planted and all by lord Harry’s orders. They all admired to see the foresaid riches in such dearth of money as was herebefore. Hide my blushes someone. I anticipated some such reception, he began with an eldritch laugh, for which, it seems, history is to blame. The chestnuts that shaded us were in bloom: the air drooped with their persuasive odour and with pollen floating by us. And he said now that he should go in to that castle for to make merry with them that were there. In Horne’s house rest should reign.
What rider is like him? Mount him on the camel or the boisterous buffalo the victory in a hack canter is still his. All they bachelors then asked of sir Leopold would he in like case so jeopard her person as risk life to save life. Every cove to his gentry mort. I am the murderer of Samuel Childs. That youthful illusion of thy strength was taken from thee—and in vain. Burke’s! Burke’s! Thence they advanced five parasangs. Lil chile velly solly. Then wotted he nought of that other land which is called Believe-on-Me, that is the land of promise which behoves to the king Delightful and shall be for ever where there is no death and no birth neither wiving nor mothering at which all shall come as many as believe on it? Yes, Pious had told him of that land and Chaste had pointed him to the way but the reason was that in the way he fell in with a certain whore of an eyepleasing exterior whose name, she said, is Bird-in-the-Hand and she beguiled him wrongways from the true path by her flatteries that she said to him as, Ho, you pretty man, turn aside hither and I will show you a brave place, and she lay at him so flatteringly that she had him in her grot which is named Two-in-the-Bush or, by some learned, Carnal Concupiscence.
Ware hawks for the chap puking. Watchers tway there walk, white sisters in ward sleepless. Strike me silly, said Costello, a low fellow who was fuddled. Within womb won he worship. Mr Justice Fitzgibbon’s door (that is to sit with Mr Healy the lawyer upon the college lands) Mal. Come ahome, our Bantam. Vegetables, forsooth, and sterile cohabitation! Give her beefsteaks, red, raw, bleeding! She is a hoary pandemonium of ills, enlarged glands, mumps, quinsy, bunions, hayfever, bedsores, ringworm, floating kidney, Derbyshire neck, warts, bilious attacks, gallstones, cold feet, varicose veins. Brigade! Bout ship. Come, come, says Mr Vincent, plain dealing. Then wotted he nought of that other land which is called Believe-on-Me, that is the land of promise which behoves to the king Delightful and shall be for ever where there is no death and no birth neither wiving nor mothering at which all shall come as many as believe on it? Yes, Pious had told him of that land and Chaste had pointed him to the way but the reason was that in the way he fell in with a certain whore of an eyepleasing exterior whose name, she said, is Bird-in-the-Hand and she beguiled him wrongways from the true path by her flatteries that she said to him as, Ho, you pretty man, turn aside hither and I will show you a brave place, and she lay at him so flatteringly that she had him in her grot which is named Two-in-the-Bush or, by some learned, Carnal Concupiscence.
Ah! Destruction! The black panther! With a cry he suddenly vanished and the panel slid back. Léo Taxil nous a dit que qui l’avait mise dans cette fichue position c’était le sacré pigeon, ventre de Dieu! Entweder transubstantiality oder consubstantiality but in no case subsubstantiality. A redress God grant. Contemporaneously, a heated argument having arisen between Mr Delegate Madden and Mr Candidate Lynch regarding the juridical and theological dilemma created in the event of one Siamese twin predeceasing the other, the difficulty by mutual consent was referred to Mr Canvasser Bloom for instant submittal to Mr Coadjutor Deacon Dedalus. Gawds teruth, Chawley. Silentium! Get a spurt on. He’s the grandest thing yet and don’t you forget it. For who is there who anything of some significance has apprehended but is conscious that that exterior splendour may be the surface of a downwardtending lutulent reality or on the contrary anyone so is there unilluminated as not to perceive that as no nature’s boon can contend against the bounty of increase so it behoves every most just citizen to become the exhortator and admonisher of his semblables and to tremble lest what had in the past been by the nation excellently commenced might be in the future not with similar excellence accomplished if an inverecund habit shall have gradually traduced the honourable by ancestors transmitted customs to that thither of profundity that that one was audacious excessively who would have the hardihood to rise affirming that no more odious offence can for anyone be than to oblivious neglect to consign that evangel simultaneously command and promise which on all mortals with prophecy of abundance or with diminution’s menace that exalted of reiteratedly procreating function ever irrevocably enjoined?
What rider is like him? Mount him on the camel or the boisterous buffalo the victory in a hack canter is still his. Mark me now. Mona, my own love. I question with you there, says he. Dixon follows giving them sharp language but raps out an oath, he too, and on. His project, as he went on to expound, was to withdraw from the round of idle pleasures such as form the chief business of sir Fopling Popinjay and sir Milksop Quidnunc in town and to devote himself to the noblest task for which our bodily organism has been framed. Therefore hast thou sinned against my light and hast made me, thy lord, to be the slave of servants. The presence even for a moment among a party of debauchees of a woman endued with every quality of modesty and not less severe than beautiful refrained the humourous sallies even of the most licentious but her departure was the signal for an outbreak of ribaldry. He had been off as many times as a cat has lives and back again with naked pockets as many more to his father the headborough who shed a pint of tears as often as he saw him. Twig? Shrieks of silence. What for that, says Mr Dixon, but before he came over farmer Nicholas that was a eunuch had him properly gelded by a college of doctors who were no better off than himself. His real name was Childs. Come on you winefizzling, ginsizzling, booseguzzling existences! Come on, you dog-gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed fourflushers, false alarms and excess baggage! Come on, you triple extract of infamy! Alexander J Christ Dowie, that’s my name, that’s yanked to glory most half this planet from Frisco beach to Vladivostok. Sir Leopold heard on the upfloor cry on high and he wondered what cry that it was whether of child or woman and I marvel, said he, that it be not come or now. Nun Trinkst Du die süsse Milch des Euters. Change here for Bawdyhouse. Elk and yak, the bulls of Bashan and of Babylon, mammoth and mastodon, they come trooping to the sunken sea, Lacus Mortis. An exquisite dulcet epithalame of most mollificative suadency for juveniles amatory whom the odoriferous flambeaus of the paranymphs have escorted to the quadrupedal proscenium of connubial communion. Netaim, the golden, is no more. Any object, intensely regarded, may be a gate of access to the incorruptible eon of the gods. For regarding Believe-on-Me they said it was nought else but notion and they could conceive no thought of it for, first, Two-in-the-Bush whither she ticed them was the very goodliest grot and in it were four pillows on which were four tickets with these words printed on them, Pickaback and Topsyturvy and Shameface and Cheek by Jowl and, second, for that foul plague Allpox and the monsters they cared not for them for Preservative had given them a stout shield of oxengut and, third, that they might take no hurt neither from Offspring that was that wicked devil by virtue of this same shield which was named Killchild. Here’s to us. Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa!
‘Tis as cheap sitting as standing. For the hoi polloi. Digs up near the Mater. Five number ones. Proceed to nearest canteen and there annex liquor stores. She had. He drank drugs to obliterate. Jannock. Mr Mulligan accepted of the invitation and, expatiating upon his design, told his hearers that he had been led into this thought by a consideration of the causes of sterility, both the inhibitory and the prohibitory, whether the inhibition in its turn were due to conjugal vexations or to a parsimony of the balance as well as whether the prohibition proceeded from defects congenital or from proclivities acquired. But the slap and the blessing stood him friend, says Mr Vincent, for to make up he taught him a trick worth two of the other so that maid, wife, abbess and widow to this day affirm that they would rather any time of the month whisper in his ear in the dark of a cowhouse or get a lick on the nape from his long holy tongue than lie with the finest strapping young ravisher in the four fields of all Ireland. Stimulate the caloric. Loud on left Thor thundered: in anger awful the hammerhurler. I vear thee beest a gert vool. She is more taking then. Do you remember her, Vincent? I wish you could have seen my queen today, Vincent said. Has he not nearer home a seedfield that lies fallow for the want of the ploughshare? A habit reprehensible at puberty is second nature and an opprobrium in middle life. Young Stephen said indeed to his best remembrance they had but the one doxy between them and she of the stews to make shift with in delights amorous for life ran very high in those days and the custom of the country approved with it. A dedale of lusty youth, noble every student there. Righto, any old time. Thus, or words to that effect, saith Zarathustra, sometime regius professor of French letters to the university of Oxtail nor breathed there ever that man to whom mankind was more beholden. Cribbed out of Meredith. He had horns galore, a coat of cloth of gold and a sweet smoky breath coming out of his nostrils so that the women of our island, leaving doughballs and rollingpins, followed after him hanging his bulliness in daisychains. He may suffer their memory to grow dim, let them be as though they had not been and all but persuade himself that they were not or at least were otherwise. The gravest problems of obstetrics and forensic medicine were examined with as much animation as the most popular beliefs on the state of pregnancy such as the forbidding to a gravid woman to step over a countrystile lest, by her movement, the navelcord should strangle her creature and the injunction upon her in the event of a yearning, ardently and ineffectually entertained, to place her hand against that part of her person which long usage has consecrated as the seat of castigation. Peels off a credit. On her stow he ere was living with dear wife and lovesome daughter that then over land and seafloor nine years had long outwandered. A score of years are blown away. Yes, it is true. What? Malign such an one, the amiable Miss Callan, who is the lustre of her own sex and the astonishment of ours? And at an instant the most momentous that can befall a puny child of clay? Perish the thought! I shudder to think of the future of a race where the seeds of such malice have been sown and where no right reverence is rendered to mother and maid in house of Horne. Hi! Spit in your own eye, boss! Mummer’s wire. Mr Mulligan was civil enough to express some relish of it all the more as it jumped with a project of his own for the cure of the very evil that had been touched on. By mighty! What’s he got? Jubilee mutton. Stimulate the caloric. For this relief much thanks. Every cove to his gentry mort. What? Malign such an one, the amiable Miss Callan, who is the lustre of her own sex and the astonishment of ours? And at an instant the most momentous that can befall a puny child of clay? Perish the thought! I shudder to think of the future of a race where the seeds of such malice have been sown and where no right reverence is rendered to mother and maid in house of Horne. Nix for the hornies. Any brollies or gumboots in the fambly? Where the Henry Nevil’s sawbones and ole clo? Sorra one o’ me knows. Mulligan a gentleman’s gentleman that had but come from Mr Moore’s the writer’s (that was a papish but is now, folk say, a good Williamite) chanced against Alec. Mr S. Wherein, O wretched company, were ye all deceived for that was the voice of the god that was in a very grievous rage that he would presently lift his arm up and spill their souls for their abuses and their spillings done by them contrariwise to his word which forth to bring brenningly biddeth.
Like ole Billyo. He is young Leopold. For the hoi polloi. Bartle the Bread we calls him. It is haunted. What, you dog? Have you a way with them? Gad’s bud, immensely so, said Mr Lynch. Mona, my own love. Why hast thou done this abomination before me that thou didst spurn me for a merchant of jalaps and didst deny me to the Roman and to the Indian of dark speech with whom thy daughters did lie luxuriously? Look forth now, my people, upon the land of behest, even from Horeb and from Nebo and from Pisgah and from the Horns of Hatten unto a land flowing with milk and money. To her, old patriarch! Pap! Per deam Partulam et Pertundam nunc est bibendum!
Gemini. No soul will live there. In Ely place, Baggot street, Duke’s lawn, thence through Merrion green up to Holles street a swash of water flowing that was before bonedry and not one chair or coach or fiacre seen about but no more crack after that first. Bridie! Bridie Kelly! He will never forget the name, ever remember the night: first night, the bridenight. He knows and will call in His own good time.
A man’s a man for a’ that.
The moment was too propitious for the display of that discursiveness which seemed the only bond of union among tempers so divergent. The ruffin cly the nab of Stephen Hand as give me the jady coppaleen. Another then put in his word: And they dressed him, says he, in a point shift and petticoat with a tippet and girdle and ruffles on his wrists and clipped his forelock and rubbed him all over with spermacetic oil and built stables for him at every turn of the road with a gold manger in each full of the best hay in the market so that he could doss and dung to his heart’s content. And all the people shall say, Amen. In a breath ‘twas done but—hold! Back! It must not be! In terror the poor girl flees away through the murk. D’ye ken bare socks? Seedy cuss in the Richmond? Rawthere! Thought he had a deposit of lead in his penis. Guinea to a goosegog. And she was wondrous stricken of heart for that evil hap and for his burial did him on a fair corselet of lamb’s wool, the flower of the flock, lest he might perish utterly and lie akeled (for it was then about the midst of the winter) and now sir Leopold that had of his body no manchild for an heir looked upon him his friend’s son and was shut up in sorrow for his forepassed happiness and as sad as he was that him failed a son of such gentle courage (for all accounted him of real parts) so grieved he also in no less measure for young Stephen for that he lived riotously with those wastrels and murdered his goods with whores.
The young gentleman, his friend, overjoyed as he was at a passage that had late befallen him, could not forbear to tell it his nearest neighbour. No touch kicking. They both, it seems, had been overtaken by the rain and for all their mending their pace had taken water, as might be observed by Mr Mulligan’s smallclothes of a hodden grey which was now somewhat piebald. He frowns a little just as this young man does now with a perhaps too conscious enjoyment of the danger but must needs glance at whiles towards where his mother watches from the piazzetta giving upon the flowerclose with a faint shadow of remoteness or of reproach (alles Vergängliche) in her glad look.
And there came against the place as they stood a young learningknight yclept Dixon. Then said Dixon junior to Punch Costello wist he what ends. For his nutriment he shewed how he would feed himself exclusively upon a diet of savoury tubercles and fish and coneys there, the flesh of these latter prolific rodents being highly recommended for his purpose, both broiled and stewed with a blade of mace and a pod or two of capsicum chillies. Assuefaction minorates atrocities (as Tully saith of his darling Stoics) and Hamlet his father showeth the prince no blister of combustion. And he showed them glistering coins of the tribute and goldsmith notes the worth of two pound nineteen shilling that he had, he said, for a song which he writ. And Master Lynch bade him have a care to flout and witwanton as the god self was angered for his hellprate and paganry. Master Lenehan at this made return that he had heard of those nefarious deeds and how, as he heard hereof counted, he had besmirched the lily virtue of a confiding female which was corruption of minors and they all intershowed it too, waxing merry and toasting to his fathership. Therefore, everyman, look to that last end that is thy death and the dust that gripeth on every man that is born of woman for as he came naked forth from his mother’s womb so naked shall he wend him at the last for to go as he came.
The gravest problems of obstetrics and forensic medicine were examined with as much animation as the most popular beliefs on the state of pregnancy such as the forbidding to a gravid woman to step over a countrystile lest, by her movement, the navelcord should strangle her creature and the injunction upon her in the event of a yearning, ardently and ineffectually entertained, to place her hand against that part of her person which long usage has consecrated as the seat of castigation. Hauding Sara by the wame. He may suffer their memory to grow dim, let them be as though they had not been and all but persuade himself that they were not or at least were otherwise. Sir, to you my hand. Tell her I was axing at her. Cot’s plood and prandypalls, none! Not a pite of sheeses? Thrust syphilis down to hell and with him those other licensed spirits. The rosy buds all gone brown and spread out blobs and on the hills nought but dry flag and faggots that would catch at first fire. No, Leopold. Stopped short never to go again when the old. After that, says Mr Vincent, the lord Harry put his head into a cow’s drinkingtrough in the presence of all his courtiers and pulling it out again told them all his new name. Mr M. He proposed to set up there a national fertilising farm to be named Omphalos with an obelisk hewn and erected after the fashion of Egypt and to offer his dutiful yeoman services for the fecundation of any female of what grade of life soever who should there direct to him with the desire of fulfilling the functions of her natural. A whacking fine whip, said Lenehan, is W. And there was a vat of silver that was moved by craft to open in the which lay strange fishes withouten heads though misbelieving men nie that this be possible thing without they see it natheless they are so. A truce to threnes and trentals and jeremies and all such congenital defunctive music! Twenty years of it, regret them not. Léo Taxil nous a dit que qui l’avait mise dans cette fichue position c’était le sacré pigeon, ventre de Dieu! Entweder transubstantiality oder consubstantiality but in no case subsubstantiality. Then young Madden showed all the whole affair and said how that she was dead and how for holy religion sake by rede of palmer and bedesman and for a vow he had made to Saint Ultan of Arbraccan her goodman husband would not let her death whereby they were all wondrous grieved. Boniface! Absinthe the lot. And they said farther she should live because in the beginning, they said, the woman should bring forth in pain and wherefore they that were of this imagination affirmed how young Madden had said truth for he had conscience to let her die. His soul is far away. Baddybad Stephen lead astray goodygood Malachi.
‘Tis as cheap sitting as standing. There’s hair. The door! It is open? Ha! They are out, tumultuously, off for a minute’s race, all bravely legging it, Burke’s of Denzille and Holles their ulterior goal. The impression made by his words was immediate but shortlived. The adiaphane in the noon of life is an Egypt’s plague which in the nights of prenativity and postmortemity is their most proper ubi and quomodo. So stood they there both awhile in wanhope sorrowing one with other.
His project, as he went on to expound, was to withdraw from the round of idle pleasures such as form the chief business of sir Fopling Popinjay and sir Milksop Quidnunc in town and to devote himself to the noblest task for which our bodily organism has been framed. The gravest problems of obstetrics and forensic medicine were examined with as much animation as the most popular beliefs on the state of pregnancy such as the forbidding to a gravid woman to step over a countrystile lest, by her movement, the navelcord should strangle her creature and the injunction upon her in the event of a yearning, ardently and ineffectually entertained, to place her hand against that part of her person which long usage has consecrated as the seat of castigation. Unwell in his abominable regions. When for Irelandear. Horryvar, mong vioo. But he had been kind. Tention. Decamping. Peep at his wearables. For through that tube he saw that he was in the land of Phenomenon where he must for a certain one day die as he was like the rest too a passing show. A couch by midwives attended with wholesome food reposeful, cleanest swaddles as though forthbringing were now done and by wise foresight set: but to this no less of what drugs there is need and surgical implements which are pertaining to her case not omitting aspect of all very distracting spectacles in various latitudes by our terrestrial orb offered together with images, divine and human, the cogitation of which by sejunct females is to tumescence conducive or eases issue in the high sunbright wellbuilt fair home of mothers when, ostensibly far gone and reproductitive, it is come by her thereto to lie in, her term up.
Dedalus’ (Div. His words were then these as followeth: Know all men, he said, time’s ruins build eternity’s mansions. Bishops boosebox. Shove him a joey and grahamise. He was simply and solely, as it subsequently transpired for reasons best known to himself, which put quite an altogether different complexion on the proceedings, after the moment before’s observations about boyhood days and the turf, recollecting two or three private transactions of his own which the other two were as mutually innocent of as the babe unborn. How come you so? Opera he’d like? Rose of Castile. The gravest problems of obstetrics and forensic medicine were examined with as much animation as the most popular beliefs on the state of pregnancy such as the forbidding to a gravid woman to step over a countrystile lest, by her movement, the navelcord should strangle her creature and the injunction upon her in the event of a yearning, ardently and ineffectually entertained, to place her hand against that part of her person which long usage has consecrated as the seat of castigation. Bridie! Bridie Kelly! He will never forget the name, ever remember the night: first night, the bridenight. See, thy fleece is drenched. Mais bien sûr, noble stranger, said he cheerily, et mille compliments. Then outspake medical Dick to his comrade medical Davy. You coming long? Whisper, who the sooty hell’s the johnny in the black duds? Hush! Sinned against the light and even now that day is at hand when he shall come to judge the world by fire. Through yerd our lord, Amen.
Hon. The clumsy things are dear at a sou. Bridie! Bridie Kelly! He will never forget the name, ever remember the night: first night, the bridenight. Thereat laughed they all right jocundly only young Stephen and sir Leopold which never durst laugh too open by reason of a strange humour which he would not bewray and also for that he rued for her that bare whoso she might be or wheresoever. By gad, sir, a queen of them. Still the plain straightforward question why a child of normally healthy parents and seemingly a healthy child and properly looked after succumbs unaccountably in early childhood (though other children of the same marriage do not) must certainly, in the poet’s words, give us pause. She was leading the field. Baddybad Stephen lead astray goodygood Malachi.
Stopped short never to go again when the old. When Conmee had passed she glanced at her lovely echo in that little mirror she carries. They fade, sad phantoms: all is gone. He strike a telegramboy paddock wire big bug Bass to the depot. How young she was and radiant (Lalage were scarce fair beside her) in her yellow shoes and frock of muslin, I do not know the right name of it. Thus, or words to that effect, saith Zarathustra, sometime regius professor of French letters to the university of Oxtail nor breathed there ever that man to whom mankind was more beholden. All that surgical skill could do was done and the brave woman had manfully helped. Which hearing young Stephen was a marvellous glad man and he averred that he who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord for he was of a wild manner when he was drunken and that he was now in that taking it appeared eftsoons.
True for you, says Mr Vincent cross the table, and a bullseye into the bargain, says he, and a plumper and a portlier bull, says he, never shit on shamrock. Smarts they still, sickness soothing: in twelve moons thrice an hundred. Glad after she was that ere adread was. Fertiliser and Incubator. Cut up! Pflaap! Tally ho. Stap my vitals, said he, them was always the sentiments of honest Frank Costello which I was bred up most particular to honour thy father and thy mother that had the best hand to a rolypoly or a hasty pudding as you ever see what I always looks back on with a loving heart.
A score of years are blown away. Hell, blast ye! Scoot. They were, says Mr Stephen, and the end was that the men of the island seeing no help was toward, as the ungrate women were all of one mind, made a wherry raft, loaded themselves and their bundles of chattels on shipboard, set all masts erect, manned the yards, sprang their luff, heaved to, spread three sheets in the wind, put her head between wind and water, weighed anchor, ported her helm, ran up the jolly Roger, gave three times three, let the bullgine run, pushed off in their bumboat and put to sea to recover the main of America. Do you remember her, Vincent? I wish you could have seen my queen today, Vincent said. Nature, we may rest assured, has her own good and cogent reasons for whatever she does and in all probability such deaths are due to some law of anticipation by which organisms in which morbous germs have taken up their residence (modern science has conclusively shown that only the plasmic substance can be said to be immortal) tend to disappear at an increasingly earlier stage of development, an arrangement which, though productive of pain to some of our feelings (notably the maternal), is nevertheless, some of us think, in the long run beneficial to the race in general in securing thereby the survival of the fittest. Cut and come again. The debaters were the keenest in the land, the theme they were engaged on the loftiest and most vital. Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa!
The flag fell and, huuh! off, scamper, the mare ran out freshly with O. Netaim, the golden, is no more.
‘Slife, I’ll be round with you. Lynch, a Scots fellow, Will. A dedale of lusty youth, noble every student there. She waved her scarf and cried: Huzzah! Sceptre wins! But in the straight on the run home when all were in close order the dark horse Throwaway drew level, reached, outstripped her. Keep a watch on the clock. The seer raised his hand to heaven, murmuring: The vendetta of Mananaun! The sage repeated: Lex talionis. Arith.) that both natality and mortality, as well as all other phenomena of evolution, tidal movements, lunar phases, blood temperatures, diseases in general, everything, in fine, in nature’s vast workshop from the extinction of some remote sun to the blossoming of one of the countless flowers which beautify our public parks is subject to a law of numeration as yet unascertained. But here is the matter now. Do you remember her, Vincent? I wish you could have seen my queen today, Vincent said. Bring a stranger within thy tower it will go hard but thou wilt have the secondbest bed. Me? If she who seduced me had left but the name. Me? If she who seduced me had left but the name. et Eug. With a railway bloke. You not come? Run, skelter, race. Look slippery. The first, said she (and here my pretty philosopher, as I handed her to her tilbury, to fix my attention, gently tipped with her tongue the outer chamber of my ear), the first is a bath.. Whatever in that one case done commodiously done was. Dignam laid in clay of an apoplexy and after hard drought, please God, rained, a bargeman coming in by water a fifty mile or thereabout with turf saying the seed won’t sprout, fields athirst, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the quags and tofts too. Thanked be Almighty God.
Where you slep las nigh? Timothy of the battered naggin. This was scant said but all cried with one acclaim nay, by our Virgin Mother, the wife should live and the babe to die. A week ago she lay ill, four days on the couch, but today she was free, blithe, mocked at peril. With a railway bloke. Why think of them? If I call them into life across the waters of Lethe will not the poor ghosts troop to my call? Who supposes it? I, Bous Stephanoumenos, bullockbefriending bard, am lord and giver of their life. The individual whose visual organs while the above was going on were at this juncture commencing to exhibit symptoms of animation was as astute if not astuter than any man living and anybody that conjectured the contrary would have found themselves pretty speedily in the wrong shop. Dost envy Darby Dullman there with his Joan? A canting jay and a rheumeyed curdog is all their progeny. The ruffin cly the nab of Stephen Hand as give me the jady coppaleen. We’re nae tha fou. Lay you two to one Jenatzy licks him ruddy well hollow. Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Nurse Callan taken aback in the hallway cannot stay them nor smiling surgeon coming downstairs with news of placentation ended, a full pound if a milligramme. He conjured up the scene before them. Mr S. Canv.) which took place in the commons’ hall of the National Maternity Hospital, 29, 30 and 31 Holles street, of which, as is well known, Dr A. Watchers tway there walk, white sisters in ward sleepless. Shove him a joey and grahamise. Halt! Heave to. Walking Mackintosh of lonely canyon. On her stow he ere was living with dear wife and lovesome daughter that then over land and seafloor nine years had long outwandered. You larn that go off of they there Frenchy bilks? Won’t wash here for nuts nohow. It floats, it flows about her starborn flesh and loose it streams, emerald, sapphire, mauve and heliotrope, sustained on currents of the cold interstellar wind, winding, coiling, simply swirling, writhing in the skies a mysterious writing till, after a myriad metamorphoses of symbol, it blazes, Alpha, a ruby and triangled sign upon the forehead of Taurus.
The end comes suddenly. Get ye gone. More bluggy drunkables? Will immensely splendiferous stander permit one stooder of most extreme poverty and one largesize grandacious thirst to terminate one expensive inaugurated libation? Give’s a breather. Sure thing. Well done, thou good and faithful servant!
Merci. And the traveller Leopold was couth to him sithen it had happed that they had had ado each with other in the house of misericord where this learningknight lay by cause the traveller Leopold came there to be healed for he was sore wounded in his breast by a spear wherewith a horrible and dreadful dragon was smitten him for which he did do make a salve of volatile salt and chrism as much as he might suffice. Master Lenehan at this made return that he had heard of those nefarious deeds and how, as he heard hereof counted, he had besmirched the lily virtue of a confiding female which was corruption of minors and they all intershowed it too, waxing merry and toasting to his fathership. Mulligan (Hyg. Same here. Boniface! Absinthe the lot. This is the appearance is on me. O lust our refuge and our strength. A region where grey twilight ever descends, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars. If he must dispense his balm of Gilead in nostrums and apothegms of dubious taste to restore to health a generation of unfledged profligates let his practice consist better with the doctrines that now engross him. She is not the filly that she was. Art drooping under thy load, bemoiled with butcher’s bills at home and ingots (not thine!) in the countinghouse? Head up! For every newbegotten thou shalt gather thy homer of ripe wheat. Hauding Sara by the wame. Forward, woozy wobblers! Night. They fade, sad phantoms: all is gone. In fact when one comes to look into it the wonder is that so many pregnancies and deliveries go off so well as they do, all things considered and in spite of our human shortcomings which often baulk nature in her intentions. Whereat Crotthers of Alba Longa sang young Malachi’s praise of that beast the unicorn how once in the millennium he cometh by his horn, the other all this while, pricked forward with their jibes wherewith they did malice him, witnessing all and several by saint Foutinus his engines that he was able to do any manner of thing that lay in man to do. And there were vessels that are wrought by magic of Mahound out of seasand and the air by a warlock with his breath that he blases in to them like to bubbles. Bovril, by James. Why, you’re as bad as dear little Father Cantekissem, that you are! May this pot of four half choke me, cried Costello, if she aint in the family way. A monstrous fine bit of cowflesh! I’ll be sworn she has rendezvoused you. Allee samee dis bunch. And as her loving eyes behold her babe she wishes only one blessing more, to have her dear Doady there with her to share her joy, to lay in his arms that mite of God’s clay, the fruit of their lawful embraces. Ayes have it. Mulligan a gentleman’s gentleman that had but come from Mr Moore’s the writer’s (that was a papish but is now, folk say, a good Williamite) chanced against Alec. They all admired to see the foresaid riches in such dearth of money as was herebefore. She dare not bear the sunnygolden babe of day. By this time the father of the faithful (for so they called him) was grown so heavy that he could scarce walk to pasture. Hi! Spit in your own eye, boss! Mummer’s wire. She is not the filly that she was. No, let no sigh break from that bosom, dear gentle Mina. Bloom there for a languor he had but was now better, he having dreamed tonight a strange fancy of his dame Mrs Moll with red slippers on in a pair of Turkey trunks which is thought by those in ken to be for a change and Mistress Purefoy there, that got in through pleading her belly, and now on the stools, poor body, two days past her term, the midwives sore put to it and can’t deliver, she queasy for a bowl of riceslop that is a shrewd drier up of the insides and her breath very heavy more than good and should be a bullyboy from the knocks, they say, but God give her soon issue. The abnormalities of harelip, breastmole, supernumerary digits, negro’s inkle, strawberry mark and portwine stain were alleged by one as a prima facie and natural hypothetical explanation of those swineheaded (the case of Madame Grissel Steevens was not forgotten) or doghaired infants occasionally born. Go thou and do likewise. What, says Mr Leopold with his hands across, that was earnest to know the drift of it, will they slaughter all? I protest I saw them but this day morning going to the Liverpool boats, says he. An exquisite dulcet epithalame of most mollificative suadency for juveniles amatory whom the odoriferous flambeaus of the paranymphs have escorted to the quadrupedal proscenium of connubial communion. But he said very entirely it was clean contrary to their suppose for he was the eternal son and ever virgin. Sir? Spud again the rheumatiz? All poppycock, you’ll scuse me saying. Madden, T. Jannock. Who’s astanding this here do? Proud possessor of damnall. Why think of them? If I call them into life across the waters of Lethe will not the poor ghosts troop to my call? Who supposes it? I, Bous Stephanoumenos, bullockbefriending bard, am lord and giver of their life. But he had overmuch drunken and the best word he could have of him was that he would ever dishonest a woman whoso she were or wife or maid or leman if it so fortuned him to be delivered of his spleen of lustihead. Nun Trinkst Du die süsse Milch des Euters. Lane. Me? If she who seduced me had left but the name. The dressy young blade said it was her husband’s that put her in that expectation or at least it ought to be unless she were another Ephesian matron. Who can say? The wise father knows his own child. Les petites femmes. Mare on form hot order. Which was the occasion, says Mr Vincent, of the composing by a boatswain of that rollicking chanty:
The poorest kitchenwench no less than the opulent lady of fashion, if so be their constructions and their tempers were warm persuaders for their petitions, would find in him their man. From a child this Frank had been a donought that his father, a headborough, who could ill keep him to school to learn his letters and the use of the globes, matriculated at the university to study the mechanics but he took the bit between his teeth like a raw colt and was more familiar with the justiciary and the parish beadle than with his volumes. Hard to breathe and all the young quicks clean consumed without sprinkle this long while back as no man remembered to be without. Just you try it on.
‘Tis her ninth chick to live, I hear, and Lady day bit off her last chick’s nails that was then a twelvemonth and with other three all breastfed that died written out in a fair hand in the king’s bible. This is the appearance is on me. Mulligan a gentleman’s gentleman that had but come from Mr Moore’s the writer’s (that was a papish but is now, folk say, a good Williamite) chanced against Alec. So be off now, says he, and do all my cousin german the lord Harry tells you and take a farmer’s blessing, and with that he slapped his posteriors very soundly. All they bachelors then asked of sir Leopold would he in like case so jeopard her person as risk life to save life. Neither place nor council was lacking in dignity. O lust our refuge and our strength. The chestnuts that shaded us were in bloom: the air drooped with their persuasive odour and with pollen floating by us. In a recent public controversy with Mr L. Kind Kristyann wil yu help yung man hoose frend tuk bungellow kee tu find plais whear tu lay crown of his hed 2 night. And on the highway of the clouds they come, muttering thunder of rebellion, the ghosts of beasts. Forward, woozy wobblers! Night. After that, says Mr Vincent, the lord Harry put his head into a cow’s drinkingtrough in the presence of all his courtiers and pulling it out again told them all his new name. Phyllis was silent: her eyes were sad anemones. This was so happy a conceit that it renewed the storm of mirth and threw the whole room into the most violent agitations of delight. Leop. Distractions, rookshooting, the Erse language (he recited some), laudanum (he raised the phial to his lips), camping out. March! Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are (atitudes!) parching. No, let no sigh break from that bosom, dear gentle Mina. The lewd suggestions of some faded beauty may console him for a consort neglected and debauched but this new exponent of morals and healer of ills is at his best an exotic tree which, when rooted in its native orient, throve and flourished and was abundant in balm but, transplanted to a clime more temperate, its roots have lost their quondam vigour while the stuff that comes away from it is stagnant, acid and inoperative.
I conceive you, says Mr Dixon. With a railway bloke. All in if he spots me. We are means to those small creatures within us and nature has other ends than we. Slattery’s mounted foot. The adiaphane in the noon of life is an Egypt’s plague which in the nights of prenativity and postmortemity is their most proper ubi and quomodo. The scent, the smile, but, more than these, the dark eyes and oleaginous address, brought home at duskfall many a commission to the head of the firm, seated with Jacob’s pipe after like labours in the paternal ingle (a meal of noodles, you may be sure, is aheating), reading through round horned spectacles some paper from the Europe of a month before. And also it was a marvel to see in that castle how by magic they make a compost out of fecund wheatkidneys out of Chaldee that by aid of certain angry spirits that they do in to it swells up wondrously like to a vast mountain. And there came against the place as they stood a young learningknight yclept Dixon. And in your ear, my friend, you will not think who met us as we left the field. Venus Pandemos. Ayes have it. My dear Kitty told me today that she would dance in a deluge before ever she would starve in such an ark of salvation for, as she reminded me (blushing piquantly and whispering in my ear though there was none to snap her words but giddy butterflies), dame Nature, by the divine blessing, has implanted it in our hearts and it has become a household word that il y a deux choses for which the innocence of our original garb, in other circumstances a breach of the proprieties, is the fittest, nay, the only garment. Deshil Holles Eamus. A monstrous fine bit of cowflesh! I’ll be sworn she has rendezvoused you. There, as in a retrospective arrangement, a mirror within a mirror (hey, presto!), he beholdeth himself. Mr Mulligan was civil enough to express some relish of it all the more as it jumped with a project of his own for the cure of the very evil that had been touched on. A wariness of mind he would answer as fitted all and, laying hand to jaw, he said dissembling, as his wont was, that as it was informed him, who had ever loved the art of physic as might a layman, and agreeing also with his experience of so seldomseen an accident it was good for that mother Church belike at one blow had birth and death pence and in such sort deliverly he scaped their questions. Those who have passed on, who have gone before, are happy too as they gaze down and smile upon the touching scene. Be not afeard neither for any want for this will comfort more than the other will dismay. I make no doubt it smacks of wenching. Winding of his ticker. A drenching of that violence, he tells me, sans blague, has sent more than one luckless fellow in good earnest posthaste to another world. A pregnancy without joy, he said, a birth without pangs, a body without blemish, a belly without bigness. A sigh of affection gave eloquence to these words and, having replaced the locket in his bosom, he wiped his eye and sighed again. What rider is like him? Mount him on the camel or the boisterous buffalo the victory in a hack canter is still his. Bannon in a cut bob (which are now in with dance cloaks of Kendal green) that was new got to town from Mullingar with the stage where his coz and Mal M’s brother will stay a month yet till Saint Swithin and asks what in the earth he does there, he bound home and he to Andrew Horne’s being stayed for to crush a cup of wine, so he said, but would tell him of a skittish heifer, big of her age and beef to the heel, and all this while poured with rain and so both together on to Horne’s. You, sir? Ginger cordial. Winding of his ticker. And she was wondrous stricken of heart for that evil hap and for his burial did him on a fair corselet of lamb’s wool, the flower of the flock, lest he might perish utterly and lie akeled (for it was then about the midst of the winter) and now sir Leopold that had of his body no manchild for an heir looked upon him his friend’s son and was shut up in sorrow for his forepassed happiness and as sad as he was that him failed a son of such gentle courage (for all accounted him of real parts) so grieved he also in no less measure for young Stephen for that he lived riotously with those wastrels and murdered his goods with whores.
Thereat mirth grew in them the more and they rehearsed to him his curious rite of wedlock for the disrobing and deflowering of spouses, as the priests use in Madagascar island, she to be in guise of white and saffron, her groom in white and grain, with burning of nard and tapers, on a bridebed while clerks sung kyries and the anthem Ut novetur sexus omnis corporis mysterium till she was there unmaided. Conmee himself! He was walking by the hedge, reading, I think a brevier book with, I doubt not, a witty letter in it from Glycera or Chloe to keep the page. More bluggy drunkables? Will immensely splendiferous stander permit one stooder of most extreme poverty and one largesize grandacious thirst to terminate one expensive inaugurated libation? Give’s a breather. The young surgeon, however, rose and begged the company to excuse his retreat as the nurse had just then informed him that he was needed in the ward. He frowns a little just as this young man does now with a perhaps too conscious enjoyment of the danger but must needs glance at whiles towards where his mother watches from the piazzetta giving upon the flowerclose with a faint shadow of remoteness or of reproach (alles Vergängliche) in her glad look.
I cannot away with them. O lust our refuge and our strength. There’s as good fish in this tin as ever came out of it and very friendly he offered to take of some salty sprats that stood by which he had eyed wishly in the meantime and found the place which was indeed the chief design of his embassy as he was sharpset. Lil chile velly solly. He conjured up the scene before them. By gad, sir, a queen of them. This was so happy a conceit that it renewed the storm of mirth and threw the whole room into the most violent agitations of delight. He heard her sad words, in held hat sad staring. Tell her I was axing at her. I cannot but extol the virile potency of the old bucko that could still knock another child out of her. Guinea to a goosegog. Stunned like, seeing as how no shiners is acoming. Maledicity! he exclaimed in anguish. Have no fear. The rosy buds all gone brown and spread out blobs and on the hills nought but dry flag and faggots that would catch at first fire. Shiver my timbers if I had. But the slap and the blessing stood him friend, says Mr Vincent, for to make up he taught him a trick worth two of the other so that maid, wife, abbess and widow to this day affirm that they would rather any time of the month whisper in his ear in the dark of a cowhouse or get a lick on the nape from his long holy tongue than lie with the finest strapping young ravisher in the four fields of all Ireland. He drank drugs to obliterate. To be printed and bound at the Druiddrum press by two designing females. Laetabuntur in cubilibus suis. She waved her scarf and cried: Huzzah! Sceptre wins! But in the straight on the run home when all were in close order the dark horse Throwaway drew level, reached, outstripped her. Hauding Sara by the wame. March! Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are (atitudes!) parching. Landlord, landlord, have you good wine, staboo? Hoots, mon, a wee drap to pree. On the road to Malahide. From a child this Frank had been a donought that his father, a headborough, who could ill keep him to school to learn his letters and the use of the globes, matriculated at the university to study the mechanics but he took the bit between his teeth like a raw colt and was more familiar with the justiciary and the parish beadle than with his volumes. Hon. Us come right in on your invite, see? Up to you, matey. This was so happy a conceit that it renewed the storm of mirth and threw the whole room into the most violent agitations of delight. Two bar and a wing. But, gramercy, what of those Godpossibled souls that we nightly impossibilise, which is the sin against the Holy Ghost, Very God, Lord and Giver of Life? For, sirs, he said, our lust is brief. Brigade! Bout ship. All desire to see you bring forth the work you meditate, to acclaim you Stephaneforos. In fact when one comes to look into it the wonder is that so many pregnancies and deliveries go off so well as they do, all things considered and in spite of our human shortcomings which often baulk nature in her intentions. Here see lost love. Roun wi the nappy. A drenching of that violence, he tells me, sans blague, has sent more than one luckless fellow in good earnest posthaste to another world. My colleen bawn. Pshaw, I tell thee! He is a mule, a dead gasteropod, without vim or stamina, not worth a cracked kreutzer. He gave them then a much admirable hymen minim by those delicate poets Master John Fletcher and Master Francis Beaumont that is in their Maid’s Tragedy that was writ for a like twining of lovers: To bed, to bed was the burden of it to be played with accompanable concent upon the virginals. And sir Leopold that was the goodliest guest that ever sat in scholars’ hall and that was the meekest man and the kindest that ever laid husbandly hand under hen and that was the very truest knight of the world one that ever did minion service to lady gentle pledged him courtly in the cup. Madden, T. En avant, mes enfants! Fire away number one on the gun. Wha gev ye thon colt? Pal to pal. And the equine portent grows again, magnified in the deserted heavens, nay to heaven’s own magnitude, till it looms, vast, over the house of Virgo. Bovril, by James. For his nutriment he shewed how he would feed himself exclusively upon a diet of savoury tubercles and fish and coneys there, the flesh of these latter prolific rodents being highly recommended for his purpose, both broiled and stewed with a blade of mace and a pod or two of capsicum chillies. A region where grey twilight ever descends, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars. In a recent public controversy with Mr L. And she was wondrous stricken of heart for that evil hap and for his burial did him on a fair corselet of lamb’s wool, the flower of the flock, lest he might perish utterly and lie akeled (for it was then about the midst of the winter) and now sir Leopold that had of his body no manchild for an heir looked upon him his friend’s son and was shut up in sorrow for his forepassed happiness and as sad as he was that him failed a son of such gentle courage (for all accounted him of real parts) so grieved he also in no less measure for young Stephen for that he lived riotously with those wastrels and murdered his goods with whores.
Eh? Rome boose for the Bloom toff. Pull down the blind, love. Having delivered himself of this rebuke he saluted those present on the by and repaired to the door. Bloom (Pubb. Sir? Spud again the rheumatiz? All poppycock, you’ll scuse me saying. And he that had erst challenged to be so doughty waxed wan as they might all mark and shrank together and his pitch that was before so haught uplift was now of a sudden quite plucked down and his heart shook within the cage of his breast as he tasted the rumour of that storm. Mulligan (Hyg. I anticipated some such reception, he began with an eldritch laugh, for which, it seems, history is to blame. Yet a chance word will call them forth suddenly and they will rise up to confront him in the most various circumstances, a vision or a dream, or while timbrel and harp soothe his senses or amid the cool silver tranquility of the evening or at the feast, at midnight, when he is now filled with wine. The colleen bawn. The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a thing done. He told them of the race. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, O gluepot. Cut and come again. Agendath is a waste land, a home of screechowls and the sandblind upupa. Tight. Nature, we may rest assured, has her own good and cogent reasons for whatever she does and in all probability such deaths are due to some law of anticipation by which organisms in which morbous germs have taken up their residence (modern science has conclusively shown that only the plasmic substance can be said to be immortal) tend to disappear at an increasingly earlier stage of development, an arrangement which, though productive of pain to some of our feelings (notably the maternal), is nevertheless, some of us think, in the long run beneficial to the race in general in securing thereby the survival of the fittest. Stimulate the caloric. Still the plain straightforward question why a child of normally healthy parents and seemingly a healthy child and properly looked after succumbs unaccountably in early childhood (though other children of the same marriage do not) must certainly, in the poet’s words, give us pause. Closingtime, gents. Cribbed out of Meredith. Mr Dixon, to turn the table, took on to ask of Mr Mulligan himself whether his incipient ventripotence, upon which he rallied him, betokened an ovoblastic gestation in the prostatic utricle or male womb or was due, as with the noted physician, Mr Austin Meldon, to a wolf in the stomach. I knows a lady what’s got a white swelling quick as I claps eyes on her. Deshil Holles Eamus.
Mona, my true love. Do you not think it, Stephen? Theosophos told me so, Stephen answered, whom in a previous existence Egyptian priests initiated into the mysteries of karmic law. It was effaced as easily as it had been evoked by an allocution from Mr Candidate Mulligan in that vein of pleasantry which none better than he knew how to affect, postulating as the supremest object of desire a nice clean old man. Here’s to us. Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Those who have passed on, who have gone before, are happy too as they gaze down and smile upon the touching scene. All in if he spots me. King to tower. Mr Justice Fitzgibbon’s door (that is to sit with Mr Healy the lawyer upon the college lands) Mal. He would have withdrawn from the feast had not the noise of voices allayed the smart. And he that had erst challenged to be so doughty waxed wan as they might all mark and shrank together and his pitch that was before so haught uplift was now of a sudden quite plucked down and his heart shook within the cage of his breast as he tasted the rumour of that storm. I knows a lady what’s got a white swelling quick as I claps eyes on her. This was so happy a conceit that it renewed the storm of mirth and threw the whole room into the most violent agitations of delight. Dixon follows giving them sharp language but raps out an oath, he too, and on. Drink, man, an udderful! Mother’s milk, Purefoy, the milk of human kin, milk too of those burgeoning stars overhead rutilant in thin rainvapour, punch milk, such as those rioters will quaff in their guzzling den, milk of madness, the honeymilk of Canaan’s land. To whom young Stephen had these words following: Murmur, sirs, is eke oft among lay folk. A score of years are blown away. Last word in art shades. Nature, we may rest assured, has her own good and cogent reasons for whatever she does and in all probability such deaths are due to some law of anticipation by which organisms in which morbous germs have taken up their residence (modern science has conclusively shown that only the plasmic substance can be said to be immortal) tend to disappear at an increasingly earlier stage of development, an arrangement which, though productive of pain to some of our feelings (notably the maternal), is nevertheless, some of us think, in the long run beneficial to the race in general in securing thereby the survival of the fittest. Watchers tway there walk, white sisters in ward sleepless. Rugger. Full of a dure. But beshrew me, he cried, clapping hand to his forehead, tomorrow will be a new day and, thousand thunders, I know of a marchand de capotes, Monsieur Poyntz, from whom I can have for a livre as snug a cloak of the French fashion as ever kept a lady from wetting. But the slap and the blessing stood him friend, says Mr Vincent, for to make up he taught him a trick worth two of the other so that maid, wife, abbess and widow to this day affirm that they would rather any time of the month whisper in his ear in the dark of a cowhouse or get a lick on the nape from his long holy tongue than lie with the finest strapping young ravisher in the four fields of all Ireland. She said thereto that she had seen many births of women but never was none so hard as was that woman’s birth. That man her will wotting worthful went in Horne’s house.
Sad was the man that word to hear that him so heavied in bowels ruthful. Whereat he handed round to the company a set of pasteboard cards which he had had printed that day at Mr Quinnell’s bearing a legend printed in fair italics: Mr Malachi Mulligan. O lust our refuge and our strength. Irish by name and irish by nature, says Mr Stephen, and he sent the ale purling about, an Irish bull in an English chinashop. Ware hawks for the chap puking. Having delivered himself of this rebuke he saluted those present on the by and repaired to the door. Scep.) contentions would appear to prove him pretty badly addicted runs directly counter to accepted scientific methods. There Leop. On her stow he ere was living with dear wife and lovesome daughter that then over land and seafloor nine years had long outwandered. You coming long? Whisper, who the sooty hell’s the johnny in the black duds? Hush! Sinned against the light and even now that day is at hand when he shall come to judge the world by fire. It is that same bull that was sent to our island by farmer Nicholas, the bravest cattlebreeder of them all, with an emerald ring in his nose. In fact when one comes to look into it the wonder is that so many pregnancies and deliveries go off so well as they do, all things considered and in spite of our human shortcomings which often baulk nature in her intentions. Léo Taxil nous a dit que qui l’avait mise dans cette fichue position c’était le sacré pigeon, ventre de Dieu! Entweder transubstantiality oder consubstantiality but in no case subsubstantiality. I knows a lady what’s got a white swelling quick as I claps eyes on her. Whether on the scaffold high. And there came against the place as they stood a young learningknight yclept Dixon. Right. He may suffer their memory to grow dim, let them be as though they had not been and all but persuade himself that they were not or at least were otherwise. Checkmate. It is that same bull that was sent to our island by farmer Nicholas, the bravest cattlebreeder of them all, with an emerald ring in his nose. What do you want for ninepence? Machree, macruiskeen. Hon. He’s got a coughmixture with a punch in it for you, my friend, in his back pocket. For the enlightenment of those who are not so intimately acquainted with the minutiae of the municipal abattoir as this morbidminded esthete and embryo philosopher who for all his overweening bumptiousness in things scientific can scarcely distinguish an acid from an alkali prides himself on being, it should perhaps be stated that staggering bob in the vile parlance of our lowerclass licensed victuallers signifies the cookable and eatable flesh of a calf newly dropped from its mother. With these words he approached the goblet to his lips, took a complacent draught of the cordial, slicked his hair and, opening his bosom, out popped a locket that hung from a silk riband, that very picture which he had cherished ever since her hand had wrote therein. He frowns a little just as this young man does now with a perhaps too conscious enjoyment of the danger but must needs glance at whiles towards where his mother watches from the piazzetta giving upon the flowerclose with a faint shadow of remoteness or of reproach (alles Vergängliche) in her glad look.
Surprise, horror, loathing were depicted on all faces while he eyed them with a ghostly grin. Full of a dure. Phyllis was silent: her eyes were sad anemones. Yooka. Obligated awful. God, I thank thee, as the Author of my days! Thrice happy will he be whom so amiable a creature will bless with her favours. The gods too are ever kind, Lenehan said. Why think of them? If I call them into life across the waters of Lethe will not the poor ghosts troop to my call? Who supposes it? I, Bous Stephanoumenos, bullockbefriending bard, am lord and giver of their life. Hi! Spit in your own eye, boss! Mummer’s wire. Wants it real bad. She is the bride of darkness, a daughter of night. With these words he approached the goblet to his lips, took a complacent draught of the cordial, slicked his hair and, opening his bosom, out popped a locket that hung from a silk riband, that very picture which he had cherished ever since her hand had wrote therein. On her stow he ere was living with dear wife and lovesome daughter that then over land and seafloor nine years had long outwandered. It is haunted. Play low, pardner. Gospeltrue. Now drink we, quod he, of this mazer and quaff ye this mead which is not indeed parcel of my body but my soul’s bodiment. Who can say? The wise father knows his own child. Scrum in. And Master Lynch bade him have a care to flout and witwanton as the god self was angered for his hellprate and paganry. May Allah the Excellent One your soul this night ever tremendously conserve.
His project, as he went on to expound, was to withdraw from the round of idle pleasures such as form the chief business of sir Fopling Popinjay and sir Milksop Quidnunc in town and to devote himself to the noblest task for which our bodily organism has been framed. Dittoh. Police! Some H2O for a gent fainted. The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a thing done. A score of years are blown away. In a breath ‘twas done but—hold! Back! It must not be! In terror the poor girl flees away through the murk. Nos omnes biberimus viridum toxicum diabolus capiat posterioria nostria. But, said he, or it be long too she will bring forth by God His bounty and have joy of her childing for she hath waited marvellous long. Righto, Isaacs, shove em out of the bleeding limelight. Pflaaaap! Not half. The nursingwoman answered him and said that that woman was in throes now full three days and that it would be a hard birth unneth to bear but that now in a little it would be. In colour whereof they waxed hot upon that head what with argument and what for their drinking but the franklin Lenehan was prompt each when to pour them ale so that at the least way mirth might not lack. Shiver my timbers if I had. Mort aux vaches, says Frank then in the French language that had been indentured to a brandyshipper that has a winelodge in Bordeaux and he spoke French like a gentleman too. Of Israel’s folk was that man that on earth wandering far had fared. O no, Vincent Lenehan said, laying a hand on the shoulder near him. His words were then these as followeth: Know all men, he said, time’s ruins build eternity’s mansions. You’ll need to rise precious early, you sinner there, if you want to diddle the Almighty God. Warily, Malachi whispered, preserve a druid silence. Unwell in his abominable regions. For his nutriment he shewed how he would feed himself exclusively upon a diet of savoury tubercles and fish and coneys there, the flesh of these latter prolific rodents being highly recommended for his purpose, both broiled and stewed with a blade of mace and a pod or two of capsicum chillies. Change here for Bawdyhouse. All who wish you well hope this for you. For who is there who anything of some significance has apprehended but is conscious that that exterior splendour may be the surface of a downwardtending lutulent reality or on the contrary anyone so is there unilluminated as not to perceive that as no nature’s boon can contend against the bounty of increase so it behoves every most just citizen to become the exhortator and admonisher of his semblables and to tremble lest what had in the past been by the nation excellently commenced might be in the future not with similar excellence accomplished if an inverecund habit shall have gradually traduced the honourable by ancestors transmitted customs to that thither of profundity that that one was audacious excessively who would have the hardihood to rise affirming that no more odious offence can for anyone be than to oblivious neglect to consign that evangel simultaneously command and promise which on all mortals with prophecy of abundance or with diminution’s menace that exalted of reiteratedly procreating function ever irrevocably enjoined?
Wants it real bad. She waved her scarf and cried: Huzzah! Sceptre wins! But in the straight on the run home when all were in close order the dark horse Throwaway drew level, reached, outstripped her. No woman of any wit would wear one. There is none now to be for Leopold, what Leopold was for Rudolph.
Why, you’re as bad as dear little Father Cantekissem, that you are! May this pot of four half choke me, cried Costello, if she aint in the family way. I cannot but extol the virile potency of the old bucko that could still knock another child out of her. Right. On the road to Malahide. Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit.
Any brollies or gumboots in the fambly? Where the Henry Nevil’s sawbones and ole clo? Sorra one o’ me knows. Hell, blast ye! Scoot. Bowsing nowt but claretwine. He frowns a little just as this young man does now with a perhaps too conscious enjoyment of the danger but must needs glance at whiles towards where his mother watches from the piazzetta giving upon the flowerclose with a faint shadow of remoteness or of reproach (alles Vergängliche) in her glad look.
Lawksamercy, doctor, cried the young blood in the primrose vest, feigning a womanish simper and with immodest squirmings of his body, how you do tease a body! Drat the man! Bless me, I’m all of a wibbly wobbly. On the road to Malahide. She had fought the good fight and now she was very very happy. Dignam laid in clay of an apoplexy and after hard drought, please God, rained, a bargeman coming in by water a fifty mile or thereabout with turf saying the seed won’t sprout, fields athirst, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the quags and tofts too. For who is there who anything of some significance has apprehended but is conscious that that exterior splendour may be the surface of a downwardtending lutulent reality or on the contrary anyone so is there unilluminated as not to perceive that as no nature’s boon can contend against the bounty of increase so it behoves every most just citizen to become the exhortator and admonisher of his semblables and to tremble lest what had in the past been by the nation excellently commenced might be in the future not with similar excellence accomplished if an inverecund habit shall have gradually traduced the honourable by ancestors transmitted customs to that thither of profundity that that one was audacious excessively who would have the hardihood to rise affirming that no more odious offence can for anyone be than to oblivious neglect to consign that evangel simultaneously command and promise which on all mortals with prophecy of abundance or with diminution’s menace that exalted of reiteratedly procreating function ever irrevocably enjoined?
Peels off a credit. The clumsy things are dear at a sou. The scent, the smile, but, more than these, the dark eyes and oleaginous address, brought home at duskfall many a commission to the head of the firm, seated with Jacob’s pipe after like labours in the paternal ingle (a meal of noodles, you may be sure, is aheating), reading through round horned spectacles some paper from the Europe of a month before. Every phase of the situation was successively eviscerated: the prenatal repugnance of uterine brothers, the Caesarean section, posthumity with respect to the father and, that rarer form, with respect to the mother, the fratricidal case known as the Childs Murder and rendered memorable by the impassioned plea of Mr Advocate Bushe which secured the acquittal of the wrongfully accused, the rights of primogeniture and king’s bounty touching twins and triplets, miscarriages and infanticides, simulated or dissimulated, the acardiac foetus in foetu and aprosopia due to a congestion, the agnathia of certain chinless Chinamen (cited by Mr Candidate Mulligan) in consequence of defective reunion of the maxillary knobs along the medial line so that (as he said) one ear could hear what the other spoke, the benefits of anesthesia or twilight sleep, the prolongation of labour pains in advanced gravidancy by reason of pressure on the vein, the premature relentment of the amniotic fluid (as exemplified in the actual case) with consequent peril of sepsis to the matrix, artificial insemination by means of syringes, involution of the womb consequent upon the menopause, the problem of the perpetration of the species in the case of females impregnated by delinquent rape, that distressing manner of delivery called by the Brandenburghers Sturzgeburt, the recorded instances of multiseminal, twikindled and monstrous births conceived during the catamenic period or of consanguineous parents—in a word all the cases of human nativity which Aristotle has classified in his masterpiece with chromolithographic illustrations. To tell the truth he was mean in fortunes and for the most part hankered about the coffeehouses and low taverns with crimps, ostlers, bookies, Paul’s men, runners, flatcaps, waistcoateers, ladies of the bagnio and other rogues of the game or with a chanceable catchpole or a tipstaff often at nights till broad day of whom he picked up between his sackpossets much loose gossip. Thanked be Almighty God.
The adiaphane in the noon of life is an Egypt’s plague which in the nights of prenativity and postmortemity is their most proper ubi and quomodo. He knows and will call in His own good time. He was gone. How saith Zarathustra? Deine Kuh Trübsal melkest Du. As I look to be saved I had it from my Kitty who has been wardmaid there any time these seven months. Assuefaction minorates atrocities (as Tully saith of his darling Stoics) and Hamlet his father showeth the prince no blister of combustion. He drank indeed at one draught to pluck up a heart of any grace for it thundered long rumblingly over all the heavens so that Master Madden, being godly certain whiles, knocked him on his ribs upon that crack of doom and Master Bloom, at the braggart’s side, spoke to him calming words to slumber his great fear, advertising how it was no other thing but a hubbub noise that he heard, the discharge of fluid from the thunderhead, look you, having taken place, and all of the order of a natural phenomenon.
Twilight phantoms are they, yet moulded in prophetic grace of structure, slim shapely haunches, a supple tendonous neck, the meek apprehensive skull. Thou sawest thy America, thy lifetask, and didst charge to cover like the transpontine bison. Thy cow’s dug was tough, what? Ay, but her milk is hot and sweet and fattening. Mark me now. Murderer’s ground.
The chair of the resident indeed stood vacant before the hearth but on either flank of it the figure of Bannon in explorer’s kit of tweed shorts and salted cowhide brogues contrasted sharply with the primrose elegance and townbred manners of Malachi Roland St John Mulligan. He was a kind of sport gentleman that went for a merryandrew or honest pickle and what belonged of women, horseflesh or hot scandal he had it pat. Item, curate, couple of cookies for this child. Those who have passed on, who have gone before, are happy too as they gaze down and smile upon the touching scene. The presence even for a moment among a party of debauchees of a woman endued with every quality of modesty and not less severe than beautiful refrained the humourous sallies even of the most licentious but her departure was the signal for an outbreak of ribaldry. Or it is the same figure, a year or so gone over, in his first hard hat (ah, that was a day!), already on the road, a fullfledged traveller for the family firm, equipped with an orderbook, a scented handkerchief (not for show only), his case of bright trinketware (alas! a thing now of the past!) and a quiverful of compliant smiles for this or that halfwon housewife reckoning it out upon her fingertips or for a budding virgin, shyly acknowledging (but the heart? tell me!) his studied baisemoins. How saith Zarathustra? Deine Kuh Trübsal melkest Du. But her lover consoled her and brought her a bright casket of gold in which lay some oval sugarplums which she partook. Shout salvation in King Jesus. The individual whose visual organs while the above was going on were at this juncture commencing to exhibit symptoms of animation was as astute if not astuter than any man living and anybody that conjectured the contrary would have found themselves pretty speedily in the wrong shop. At the risk of her own, was the telling rejoinder of his interlocutor, none the less effective for the moderate and measured tone in which it was delivered.
Where’s Punch? All serene. Had the winner today till I tipped him a dead cert. Declare misery. During the past four minutes or thereabouts he had been staring hard at a certain amount of number one Bass bottled by Messrs Bass and Co at Burton-on-Trent which happened to be situated amongst a lot of others right opposite to where he was and which was certainly calculated to attract anyone’s remark on account of its scarlet appearance. There’s a great big holy friar. To those who create themselves wits at the cost of feminine delicacy (a habit of mind which he never did hold with) to them he would concede neither to bear the name nor to herit the tradition of a proper breeding: while for such that, having lost all forbearance, can lose no more, there remained the sharp antidote of experience to cause their insolency to beat a precipitate and inglorious retreat. Brigade! Bout ship. In going by he had blessed us. Then spake young Stephen orgulous of mother Church that would cast him out of her bosom, of law of canons, of Lilith, patron of abortions, of bigness wrought by wind of seeds of brightness or by potency of vampires mouth to mouth or, as Virgilius saith, by the influence of the occident or by the reek of moonflower or an she lie with a woman which her man has but lain with, effectu secuto, or peradventure in her bath according to the opinions of Averroes and Moses Maimonides. The poorest kitchenwench no less than the opulent lady of fashion, if so be their constructions and their tempers were warm persuaders for their petitions, would find in him their man. Catch aholt. Lang may your lum reek and your kailpot boil! My tipple. My dear Kitty told me today that she would dance in a deluge before ever she would starve in such an ark of salvation for, as she reminded me (blushing piquantly and whispering in my ear though there was none to snap her words but giddy butterflies), dame Nature, by the divine blessing, has implanted it in our hearts and it has become a household word that il y a deux choses for which the innocence of our original garb, in other circumstances a breach of the proprieties, is the fittest, nay, the only garment. Bloom stays with nurse a thought to send a kind word to happy mother and nurseling up there. And a pull all together. Peels off a credit. It is haunted. How mingled and imperfect are all our sublunary joys. We are means to those small creatures within us and nature has other ends than we. And Master Lynch bade him have a care to flout and witwanton as the god self was angered for his hellprate and paganry. Seventy beds keeps he there teeming mothers are wont that they lie for to thole and bring forth bairns hale so God’s angel to Mary quoth. Halt! Heave to. Nix for the hornies. Closingtime, gents. Like ole Billyo. Lenehan, very sad about a racer he fancied and Stephen D. Mr J. The first, said she (and here my pretty philosopher, as I handed her to her tilbury, to fix my attention, gently tipped with her tongue the outer chamber of my ear), the first is a bath.. Seed near free poun on un a spell ago a said war hisn. Garn! Have a glint, do. I put it to you that He’s on the square and a corking fine business proposition. Slung her hook, she did. Her to forgive now he craved with good ground of her allowed that that of him swiftseen face, hers, so young then had looked. Faith, no, he says, Frank (that was his name), ‘tis all about Kerry cows that are to be butchered along of the plague. Merci. For his nutriment he shewed how he would feed himself exclusively upon a diet of savoury tubercles and fish and coneys there, the flesh of these latter prolific rodents being highly recommended for his purpose, both broiled and stewed with a blade of mace and a pod or two of capsicum chillies. If he must dispense his balm of Gilead in nostrums and apothegms of dubious taste to restore to health a generation of unfledged profligates let his practice consist better with the doctrines that now engross him. Crickey, I’m about sprung. Now drink we, quod he, of this mazer and quaff ye this mead which is not indeed parcel of my body but my soul’s bodiment. It is she, Martha, thou lost one, Millicent, the young, the dear, the radiant. Hitherto silent, whether the better to show by preternatural gravity that curious dignity of the garb with which he was invested or in obedience to an inward voice, he delivered briefly and, as some thought, perfunctorily the ecclesiastical ordinance forbidding man to put asunder what God has joined.
Mare on form hot order. Come, come, says Mr Vincent, plain dealing. But could he not have endeavoured to have found again as in his youth the bottle Holiness that then he lived withal? Indeed no for Grace was not there to find that bottle. Cornfide. The scent, the smile, but, more than these, the dark eyes and oleaginous address, brought home at duskfall many a commission to the head of the firm, seated with Jacob’s pipe after like labours in the paternal ingle (a meal of noodles, you may be sure, is aheating), reading through round horned spectacles some paper from the Europe of a month before. Mr J. And how I am punished! The inferno has no terrors for me. And there came against the place as they stood a young learningknight yclept Dixon. Hell, blast ye! Scoot. Tention. Mais bien sûr, noble stranger, said he cheerily, et mille compliments. On the road to Malahide. S’elp me, honest injun. The moment was too propitious for the display of that discursiveness which seemed the only bond of union among tempers so divergent. But here is the matter now. They all admired to see the foresaid riches in such dearth of money as was herebefore. But by and by, as said, this evening after sundown, the wind sitting in the west, biggish swollen clouds to be seen as the night increased and the weatherwise poring up at them and some sheet lightnings at first and after, past ten of the clock, one great stroke with a long thunder and in a brace of shakes all scamper pellmell within door for the smoking shower, the men making shelter for their straws with a clout or kerchief, womenfolk skipping off with kirtles catched up soon as the pour came. Pshaw, I tell thee! He is a mule, a dead gasteropod, without vim or stamina, not worth a cracked kreutzer. Nurse Callan taken aback in the hallway cannot stay them nor smiling surgeon coming downstairs with news of placentation ended, a full pound if a milligramme. And was he then neither calm like the one nor godly like the other? He was neither as much as he would have liked to be either. No touch kicking. She dare not bear the sunnygolden babe of day. Science, it cannot be too often repeated, deals with tangible phenomena. It is that same bull that was sent to our island by farmer Nicholas, the bravest cattlebreeder of them all, with an emerald ring in his nose. Eh? Rome boose for the Bloom toff. Dixon follows giving them sharp language but raps out an oath, he too, and on. Tarnally dog gone my shins if this beent the bestest puttiest longbreak yet. For the hoi polloi. Faith, no, he says, Frank (that was his name), ‘tis all about Kerry cows that are to be butchered along of the plague. And all the people shall say, Amen. He was laying his hand upon a winejar: Malachi saw it and withheld his act, pointing to the stranger and to the scarlet label. Mercy on the luckless! Poor Sceptre! he said with a light sigh. Laetabuntur in cubilibus suis. And all the people shall say, Amen. O thing of prudent nation not merely in being seen but also even in being related worthy of being praised that they her by anticipation went seeing mother, that she by them suddenly to be about to be cherished had been begun she felt!
But thou hast suckled me with a bitter milk: my moon and my sun thou hast quenched for ever. Then said Dixon junior to Punch Costello wist he what ends. In short, he and the bull of Ireland were soon as fast friends as an arse and a shirt. I must acquaint you, said Mr Crotthers, clapping on the table so as to evoke a resonant comment of emphasis, old Glory Allelujurum was round again today, an elderly man with dundrearies, preferring through his nose a request to have word of Wilhelmina, my life, as he calls her. Nature, we may rest assured, has her own good and cogent reasons for whatever she does and in all probability such deaths are due to some law of anticipation by which organisms in which morbous germs have taken up their residence (modern science has conclusively shown that only the plasmic substance can be said to be immortal) tend to disappear at an increasingly earlier stage of development, an arrangement which, though productive of pain to some of our feelings (notably the maternal), is nevertheless, some of us think, in the long run beneficial to the race in general in securing thereby the survival of the fittest. They were, says Mr Stephen, and the end was that the men of the island seeing no help was toward, as the ungrate women were all of one mind, made a wherry raft, loaded themselves and their bundles of chattels on shipboard, set all masts erect, manned the yards, sprang their luff, heaved to, spread three sheets in the wind, put her head between wind and water, weighed anchor, ported her helm, ran up the jolly Roger, gave three times three, let the bullgine run, pushed off in their bumboat and put to sea to recover the main of America. Don’t stain my brandnew sitinems. It is interesting because, as he pertinently remarks, we are all born in the same way but we all die in different ways. I anticipated some such reception, he began with an eldritch laugh, for which, it seems, history is to blame. In vain! His spectre stalks me. I.) is the able and popular master, he is reported by eyewitnesses as having stated that once a woman has let the cat into the bag (an esthete’s allusion, presumably, to one of the most complicated and marvellous of all nature’s processes—the act of sexual congress) she must let it out again or give it life, as he phrased it, to save her own. Now he is himself paternal and these about him might be his sons. Thunderation! Keep the durned millingtary step. Hauding Sara by the wame. Lay you two to one Jenatzy licks him ruddy well hollow. Proceed to nearest canteen and there annex liquor stores. And there were vessels that are wrought by magic of Mahound out of seasand and the air by a warlock with his breath that he blases in to them like to bubbles. What? Malign such an one, the amiable Miss Callan, who is the lustre of her own sex and the astonishment of ours? And at an instant the most momentous that can befall a puny child of clay? Perish the thought! I shudder to think of the future of a race where the seeds of such malice have been sown and where no right reverence is rendered to mother and maid in house of Horne. They both, it seems, had been overtaken by the rain and for all their mending their pace had taken water, as might be observed by Mr Mulligan’s smallclothes of a hodden grey which was now somewhat piebald. Proceed to nearest canteen and there annex liquor stores. Together (she is a poor waif, a child of shame, yours and mine and of all for a bare shilling and her luckpenny), together they hear the heavy tread of the watch as two raincaped shadows pass the new royal university. A shaven space of lawn one soft May evening, the wellremembered grove of lilacs at Roundtown, purple and white, fragrant slender spectators of the game but with much real interest in the pellets as they run slowly forward over the sward or collide and stop, one by its fellow, with a brief alert shock. And he that had erst challenged to be so doughty waxed wan as they might all mark and shrank together and his pitch that was before so haught uplift was now of a sudden quite plucked down and his heart shook within the cage of his breast as he tasted the rumour of that storm. And Doady, knock the ashes from your pipe, the seasoned briar you still fancy when the curfew rings for you (may it be the distant day!) and dout the light whereby you read in the Sacred Book for the oil too has run low, and so with a tranquil heart to bed, to rest. Calf covers of pissedon green. He frowns a little just as this young man does now with a perhaps too conscious enjoyment of the danger but must needs glance at whiles towards where his mother watches from the piazzetta giving upon the flowerclose with a faint shadow of remoteness or of reproach (alles Vergängliche) in her glad look.
No fake, old man Leo. Trumpery insanity. It is she, Martha, thou lost one, Millicent, the young, the dear, the radiant. He was laying his hand upon a winejar: Malachi saw it and withheld his act, pointing to the stranger and to the scarlet label. Surprise, horror, loathing were depicted on all faces while he eyed them with a ghostly grin. In Ely place, Baggot street, Duke’s lawn, thence through Merrion green up to Holles street a swash of water flowing that was before bonedry and not one chair or coach or fiacre seen about but no more crack after that first. First, saved from waters of old Nile, among bulrushes, a bed of fasciated wattles: at last the cavity of a mountain, an occulted sepulchre amid the conclamation of the hillcat and the ossifrage. It had been a weary weary while both for patient and doctor. The spider pitches her web in the solitude. Arith.) that both natality and mortality, as well as all other phenomena of evolution, tidal movements, lunar phases, blood temperatures, diseases in general, everything, in fine, in nature’s vast workshop from the extinction of some remote sun to the blossoming of one of the countless flowers which beautify our public parks is subject to a law of numeration as yet unascertained. The mystery was unveiled. Together (she is a poor waif, a child of shame, yours and mine and of all for a bare shilling and her luckpenny), together they hear the heavy tread of the watch as two raincaped shadows pass the new royal university. Be worse for him, says he, nor any Rooshian. Dittoh. Nothing, as it seems, there of rash or violent. Look at Bantam’s flowers. Arith.) that both natality and mortality, as well as all other phenomena of evolution, tidal movements, lunar phases, blood temperatures, diseases in general, everything, in fine, in nature’s vast workshop from the extinction of some remote sun to the blossoming of one of the countless flowers which beautify our public parks is subject to a law of numeration as yet unascertained. We two, she said, will seek the kips where shady Mary is. Sir? Spud again the rheumatiz? All poppycock, you’ll scuse me saying. Deshil Holles Eamus.
He took his ordinary at a boilingcook’s and if he had but gotten into him a mess of broken victuals or a platter of tripes with a bare tester in his purse he could always bring himself off with his tongue, some randy quip he had from a punk or whatnot that every mother’s son of them would burst their sides. The colleen bawn. There Leop. Hurrah there, Dix! Forward to the ribbon counter. And there were vessels that are wrought by magic of Mahound out of seasand and the air by a warlock with his breath that he blases in to them like to bubbles. Stark ruth of man his errand that him lone led till that house.
And as the ends and ultimates of all things accord in some mean and measure with their inceptions and originals, that same multiplicit concordance which leads forth growth from birth accomplishing by a retrogressive metamorphosis that minishing and ablation towards the final which is agreeable unto nature so is it with our subsolar being.
‘Slife, I’ll be round with you. No, let no sigh break from that bosom, dear gentle Mina. Why hast thou done this abomination before me that thou didst spurn me for a merchant of jalaps and didst deny me to the Roman and to the Indian of dark speech with whom thy daughters did lie luxuriously? Look forth now, my people, upon the land of behest, even from Horeb and from Nebo and from Pisgah and from the Horns of Hatten unto a land flowing with milk and money. Bannon in a cut bob (which are now in with dance cloaks of Kendal green) that was new got to town from Mullingar with the stage where his coz and Mal M’s brother will stay a month yet till Saint Swithin and asks what in the earth he does there, he bound home and he to Andrew Horne’s being stayed for to crush a cup of wine, so he said, but would tell him of a skittish heifer, big of her age and beef to the heel, and all this while poured with rain and so both together on to Horne’s. They hark him on. Faith, no, he says, Frank (that was his name), ‘tis all about Kerry cows that are to be butchered along of the plague. How saith Zarathustra? Deine Kuh Trübsal melkest Du. Roun wi the nappy. O thing of prudent nation not merely in being seen but also even in being related worthy of being praised that they her by anticipation went seeing mother, that she by them suddenly to be about to be cherished had been begun she felt!
Faith, no, he says, Frank (that was his name), ‘tis all about Kerry cows that are to be butchered along of the plague. Merciful providence had been pleased to put a period to the sufferings of the lady who was enceinte which she had borne with a laudable fortitude and she had given birth to a bouncing boy. Those who have passed on, who have gone before, are happy too as they gaze down and smile upon the touching scene. Came now the storm that hist his heart. I put it to you that He’s on the square and a corking fine business proposition. After that, says Mr Vincent, the lord Harry put his head into a cow’s drinkingtrough in the presence of all his courtiers and pulling it out again told them all his new name. We two, she said, will seek the kips where shady Mary is. Horryvar, mong vioo. The nursingwoman answered him and said that that woman was in throes now full three days and that it would be a hard birth unneth to bear but that now in a little it would be. Dixon follows giving them sharp language but raps out an oath, he too, and on. Mulligan (Hyg. We fall. Then, though it had poured seven showers, we were neither of us a penny the worse. What, says Mr Leopold with his hands across, that was earnest to know the drift of it, will they slaughter all? I protest I saw them but this day morning going to the Liverpool boats, says he. In vain! His spectre stalks me. And snares of the poxfiend. Halt! Heave to. And full fair cheer and rich was on the board that no wight could devise a fuller ne richer. Haines! Which of us did not feel his flesh creep! He had a portfolio full of Celtic literature in one hand, in the other a phial marked Poison. There’s hair. But, he further added, it is mayhap to relieve the pentup feelings that in common oppress them for I have more than once observed that birds of a feather laugh together.
You, sir? Ginger cordial. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, O gluepot.
‘Tis her ninth chick to live, I hear, and Lady day bit off her last chick’s nails that was then a twelvemonth and with other three all breastfed that died written out in a fair hand in the king’s bible. He is older now (you and I may whisper it) and a trifle stooped in the shoulders yet in the whirligig of years a grave dignity has come to the conscientious second accountant of the Ulster bank, College Green branch. Yooka. Lane. A murmur of approval arose from all and some were for ejecting the low soaker without more ado, a design which would have been effected nor would he have received more than his bare deserts had he not abridged his transgression by affirming with a horrid imprecation (for he swore a round hand) that he was as good a son of the true fold as ever drew breath. Faith, no, he says, Frank (that was his name), ‘tis all about Kerry cows that are to be butchered along of the plague. Also the lady was of his avis and repreved the learningknight though she trowed well that the traveller had said thing that was false for his subtility. The nocturnal rat peers from his hole. Maledicity! he exclaimed in anguish. All hearts were beating. What for that, says Mr Dixon, but before he came over farmer Nicholas that was a eunuch had him properly gelded by a college of doctors who were no better off than himself. And he sat down in that castle with them for to rest him there awhile. Me nantee saltee. Last word in art shades. There’s a great big holy friar. Scep.) contentions would appear to prove him pretty badly addicted runs directly counter to accepted scientific methods. Enter that antechamber of birth where the studious are assembled and note their faces. We two, she said, will seek the kips where shady Mary is. Here’s to us. Jesified, orchidised, polycimical jesuit! Aunty mine’s writing Pa Kinch. The nocturnal rat peers from his hole. After this homily which he delivered with much warmth of asseveration Mr Mulligan in a trice put off from his hat a kerchief with which he had shielded it. The high hall of Horne’s house had never beheld an assembly so representative and so varied nor had the old rafters of that establishment ever listened to a language so encyclopaedic. Thou sawest thy America, thy lifetask, and didst charge to cover like the transpontine bison. All in if he spots me. The gravest problems of obstetrics and forensic medicine were examined with as much animation as the most popular beliefs on the state of pregnancy such as the forbidding to a gravid woman to step over a countrystile lest, by her movement, the navelcord should strangle her creature and the injunction upon her in the event of a yearning, ardently and ineffectually entertained, to place her hand against that part of her person which long usage has consecrated as the seat of castigation. It was an ancient and a sad matron of a sedate look and christian walking, in habit dun beseeming her megrims and wrinkled visage, nor did her hortative want of it effect for incontinently Punch Costello was of them all embraided and they reclaimed the churl with civil rudeness some and shaked him with menace of blandishments others whiles they all chode with him, a murrain seize the dolt, what a devil he would be at, thou chuff, thou puny, thou got in peasestraw, thou losel, thou chitterling, thou spawn of a rebel, thou dykedropt, thou abortion thou, to shut up his drunken drool out of that like a curse of God ape, the good sir Leopold that had for his cognisance the flower of quiet, margerain gentle, advising also the time’s occasion as most sacred and most worthy to be most sacred. Mona, my own love. By gad, sir, a queen of them. How’s that? Leg before wicket. He may suffer their memory to grow dim, let them be as though they had not been and all but persuade himself that they were not or at least were otherwise. Nurse Callan taken aback in the hallway cannot stay them nor smiling surgeon coming downstairs with news of placentation ended, a full pound if a milligramme. But thou hast suckled me with a bitter milk: my moon and my sun thou hast quenched for ever. Time, gents! Who wander through the world. Never, by this hand, shall we behold such another. Money was no object, he said, nor would he take a penny for his pains. He’ll find himself on the horns of a dilemma if he meddles with a bull that’s Irish, says he. But, gracious heaven, was I left with but a crust in my wallet and a cupful of water from the well, my God, I would accept of them and find it in my heart to kneel down upon the ground and give thanks to the powers above for the happiness vouchsafed me by the Giver of good things. Having delivered himself of this rebuke he saluted those present on the by and repaired to the door. Those who have passed on, who have gone before, are happy too as they gaze down and smile upon the touching scene. Know his dona? Yup, sartin I do. Mais bien sûr, noble stranger, said he cheerily, et mille compliments. Tiens, tiens, but it is well sad, that, my faith, yes. The individual whose visual organs while the above was going on were at this juncture commencing to exhibit symptoms of animation was as astute if not astuter than any man living and anybody that conjectured the contrary would have found themselves pretty speedily in the wrong shop. Mr Mulligan accepted of the invitation and, expatiating upon his design, told his hearers that he had been led into this thought by a consideration of the causes of sterility, both the inhibitory and the prohibitory, whether the inhibition in its turn were due to conjugal vexations or to a parsimony of the balance as well as whether the prohibition proceeded from defects congenital or from proclivities acquired. Whereat Crotthers of Alba Longa sang young Malachi’s praise of that beast the unicorn how once in the millennium he cometh by his horn, the other all this while, pricked forward with their jibes wherewith they did malice him, witnessing all and several by saint Foutinus his engines that he was able to do any manner of thing that lay in man to do. Mulligan a gentleman’s gentleman that had but come from Mr Moore’s the writer’s (that was a papish but is now, folk say, a good Williamite) chanced against Alec. Lang may your lum reek and your kailpot boil! My tipple. But by and by, as said, this evening after sundown, the wind sitting in the west, biggish swollen clouds to be seen as the night increased and the weatherwise poring up at them and some sheet lightnings at first and after, past ten of the clock, one great stroke with a long thunder and in a brace of shakes all scamper pellmell within door for the smoking shower, the men making shelter for their straws with a clout or kerchief, womenfolk skipping off with kirtles catched up soon as the pour came. Strike me silly, said Costello, a low fellow who was fuddled. Has he not nearer home a seedfield that lies fallow for the want of the ploughshare? A habit reprehensible at puberty is second nature and an opprobrium in middle life. Four winners yesterday and three today. D’ye ken bare socks? Seedy cuss in the Richmond? Rawthere! Thought he had a deposit of lead in his penis. Christ’s rood made she on breastbone and him drew that he would rathe infare under her thatch. Remember, Erin, thy generations and thy days of old, how thou settedst little by me and by my word and broughtedst in a stranger to my gates to commit fornication in my sight and to wax fat and kick like Jeshurum. And lo, wonder of metempsychosis, it is she, the everlasting bride, harbinger of the daystar, the bride, ever virgin. Kind Kristyann wil yu help yung man hoose frend tuk bungellow kee tu find plais whear tu lay crown of his hed 2 night. In short, he and the bull of Ireland were soon as fast friends as an arse and a shirt. It floats, it flows about her starborn flesh and loose it streams, emerald, sapphire, mauve and heliotrope, sustained on currents of the cold interstellar wind, winding, coiling, simply swirling, writhing in the skies a mysterious writing till, after a myriad metamorphoses of symbol, it blazes, Alpha, a ruby and triangled sign upon the forehead of Taurus.
Smarts they still, sickness soothing: in twelve moons thrice an hundred. The young surgeon, however, rose and begged the company to excuse his retreat as the nurse had just then informed him that he was needed in the ward. Dedalus’ (Div. He would have withdrawn from the feast had not the noise of voices allayed the smart. Beneficent Disseminator of blessings to all Thy creatures, how great and universal must be that sweetest of Thy tyrannies which can hold in thrall the free and the bond, the simple swain and the polished coxcomb, the lover in the heyday of reckless passion and the husband of maturer years. In Ely place, Baggot street, Duke’s lawn, thence through Merrion green up to Holles street a swash of water flowing that was before bonedry and not one chair or coach or fiacre seen about but no more crack after that first. Then outspake medical Dick to his comrade medical Davy. Over against the Rt. Lo, levin leaping lightens in eyeblink Ireland’s westward welkin. Madden up. Deshil Holles Eamus.
If I had poor luck with Bass’s mare perhaps this draught of his may serve me more propensely. Yooka. On her stow he ere was living with dear wife and lovesome daughter that then over land and seafloor nine years had long outwandered. These factors, he alleged, and the revolting spectacles offered by our streets, hideous publicity posters, religious ministers of all denominations, mutilated soldiers and sailors, exposed scorbutic cardrivers, the suspended carcases of dead animals, paranoic bachelors and unfructified duennas—these, he said, were accountable for any and every fallingoff in the calibre of the race. Underconstumble? He’ve got the chink ad lib. O, cheese it! Shut his blurry Dutch oven with a firm hand. Got bet be a boomblebee whenever he wus settin sleepin in hes bit garten. Which hearing young Stephen was a marvellous glad man and he averred that he who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord for he was of a wild manner when he was drunken and that he was now in that taking it appeared eftsoons.
Dignam laid in clay of an apoplexy and after hard drought, please God, rained, a bargeman coming in by water a fifty mile or thereabout with turf saying the seed won’t sprout, fields athirst, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the quags and tofts too. Don’t stain my brandnew sitinems. And how I am punished! The inferno has no terrors for me. All in if he spots me. And sir Leopold sat with them for he bore fast friendship to sir Simon and to this his son young Stephen and for that his languor becalmed him there after longest wanderings insomuch as they feasted him for that time in the honourablest manner. Sad was the man that word to hear that him so heavied in bowels ruthful. Over against the Rt. Dignam laid in clay of an apoplexy and after hard drought, please God, rained, a bargeman coming in by water a fifty mile or thereabout with turf saying the seed won’t sprout, fields athirst, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the quags and tofts too. Ten to. And not few and of these was young Lynch were in doubt that the world was now right evil governed as it was never other howbeit the mean people believed it otherwise but the law nor his judges did provide no remedy. Madden up. Well, let us hear of it, good my friend, said Mr Dixon. A shaven space of lawn one soft May evening, the wellremembered grove of lilacs at Roundtown, purple and white, fragrant slender spectators of the game but with much real interest in the pellets as they run slowly forward over the sward or collide and stop, one by its fellow, with a brief alert shock. A truce to threnes and trentals and jeremies and all such congenital defunctive music! Twenty years of it, regret them not. After this homily which he delivered with much warmth of asseveration Mr Mulligan in a trice put off from his hat a kerchief with which he had shielded it. Burke’s! Burke’s! Thence they advanced five parasangs. The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a thing done. Ay, says another, and so pampered was he that he would suffer nought to grow in all the land but green grass for himself (for that was the only colour to his mind) and there was a board put up on a hillock in the middle of the island with a printed notice, saying: By the Lord Harry, Green is the grass that grows on the ground. Yet a chance word will call them forth suddenly and they will rise up to confront him in the most various circumstances, a vision or a dream, or while timbrel and harp soothe his senses or amid the cool silver tranquility of the evening or at the feast, at midnight, when he is now filled with wine. Cleave to her! Serve! Toil on, labour like a very bandog and let scholarment and all Malthusiasts go hang. Yours? Mead of our fathers for the Übermensch. Dope is my only hope.. Catch aholt. Haines was the third brother. Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs battleships, buggery and bishops. Leave ye fraction of bread to them that live by bread alone. There, as in a retrospective arrangement, a mirror within a mirror (hey, presto!), he beholdeth himself. Landlord, landlord, have you good wine, staboo? Hoots, mon, a wee drap to pree. The chestnuts that shaded us were in bloom: the air drooped with their persuasive odour and with pollen floating by us. Christ’s rood made she on breastbone and him drew that he would rathe infare under her thatch. Demme, does not Doctor O’Gargle chuck the nuns there under the chin. And he that had erst challenged to be so doughty waxed wan as they might all mark and shrank together and his pitch that was before so haught uplift was now of a sudden quite plucked down and his heart shook within the cage of his breast as he tasted the rumour of that storm. The rosy buds all gone brown and spread out blobs and on the hills nought but dry flag and faggots that would catch at first fire. Lenehan, very sad about a racer he fancied and Stephen D. Give’s a shake of peppe, you there. An exquisite dulcet epithalame of most mollificative suadency for juveniles amatory whom the odoriferous flambeaus of the paranymphs have escorted to the quadrupedal proscenium of connubial communion. I’ll make that animal smell hell, says he, with the help of that good pizzle my father left me. Dixon follows giving them sharp language but raps out an oath, he too, and on. The man then right earnest asked the nun of which death the dead man was died and the nun answered him and said that he was died in Mona Island through bellycrab three year agone come Childermas and she prayed to God the Allruthful to have his dear soul in his undeathliness. Also the lady was of his avis and repreved the learningknight though she trowed well that the traveller had said thing that was false for his subtility. And as no man knows the ubicity of his tumulus nor to what processes we shall thereby be ushered nor whether to Tophet or to Edenville in the like way is all hidden when we would backward see from what region of remoteness the whatness of our whoness hath fetched his whenceness.
Night. There wanted nothing but this cup to crown my felicity. Got bet be a boomblebee whenever he wus settin sleepin in hes bit garten. At the risk of her own, was the telling rejoinder of his interlocutor, none the less effective for the moderate and measured tone in which it was delivered.
This tenebrosity of the interior, he proceeded to say, hath not been illumined by the wit of the septuagint nor so much as mentioned for the Orient from on high Which brake hell’s gates visited a darkness that was foraneous. Had the winner today till I tipped him a dead cert. To tell the truth he was mean in fortunes and for the most part hankered about the coffeehouses and low taverns with crimps, ostlers, bookies, Paul’s men, runners, flatcaps, waistcoateers, ladies of the bagnio and other rogues of the game or with a chanceable catchpole or a tipstaff often at nights till broad day of whom he picked up between his sackpossets much loose gossip. Nine twelve bloodflows chiding her childless.
He asked about Glaucon, Alcibiades, Pisistratus. And how I am punished! The inferno has no terrors for me. Here’s to us. There is none now to be for Leopold, what Leopold was for Rudolph.
Change here for Bawdyhouse. in Midw., F. Pshaw, I tell thee! He is a mule, a dead gasteropod, without vim or stamina, not worth a cracked kreutzer. Assuefaction minorates atrocities (as Tully saith of his darling Stoics) and Hamlet his father showeth the prince no blister of combustion. Dost envy Darby Dullman there with his Joan? A canting jay and a rheumeyed curdog is all their progeny. Tarnally dog gone my shins if this beent the bestest puttiest longbreak yet. He says this, a censor of morals, a very pelican in his piety, who did not scruple, oblivious of the ties of nature, to attempt illicit intercourse with a female domestic drawn from the lowest strata of society! Nay, had the hussy’s scouringbrush not been her tutelary angel, it had gone with her as hard as with Hagar, the Egyptian! In the question of the grazing lands his peevish asperity is notorious and in Mr Cuffe’s hearing brought upon him from an indignant rancher a scathing retort couched in terms as straightforward as they were bucolic. A region where grey twilight ever descends, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars. Would to God that foresight had but remembered me to take my cloak along! I could weep to think of it. Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. She had. Boniface! Absinthe the lot. The debaters were the keenest in the land, the theme they were engaged on the loftiest and most vital. Change here for Bawdyhouse. Watchers tway there walk, white sisters in ward sleepless. Drink, man, an udderful! Mother’s milk, Purefoy, the milk of human kin, milk too of those burgeoning stars overhead rutilant in thin rainvapour, punch milk, such as those rioters will quaff in their guzzling den, milk of madness, the honeymilk of Canaan’s land. Calf covers of pissedon green. There’s hair. Caraway seed to carry away. Strike me silly, said Costello, a low fellow who was fuddled. And yonder about that grey urn where the water moves at times in thoughtful irrigation you saw another as fragrant sisterhood, Floey, Atty, Tiny and their darker friend with I know not what of arresting in her pose then, Our Lady of the Cherries, a comely brace of them pendent from an ear, bringing out the foreign warmth of the skin so daintily against the cool ardent fruit. Mr M. But the braggart boaster cried that an old Nobodaddy was in his cups it was muchwhat indifferent and he would not lag behind his lead. Ten to. Underconstumble? He’ve got the chink ad lib. And there was a vat of silver that was moved by craft to open in the which lay strange fishes withouten heads though misbelieving men nie that this be possible thing without they see it natheless they are so. This was so happy a conceit that it renewed the storm of mirth and threw the whole room into the most violent agitations of delight. I’ll make that animal smell hell, says he, with the help of that good pizzle my father left me. And how I am punished! The inferno has no terrors for me. The seer raised his hand to heaven, murmuring: The vendetta of Mananaun! The sage repeated: Lex talionis. Lane. Ise de cutest colour coon down our side. An exquisite dulcet epithalame of most mollificative suadency for juveniles amatory whom the odoriferous flambeaus of the paranymphs have escorted to the quadrupedal proscenium of connubial communion. No longer is Leopold, as he sits there, ruminating, chewing the cud of reminiscence, that staid agent of publicity and holder of a modest substance in the funds. Conmee himself! He was walking by the hedge, reading, I think a brevier book with, I doubt not, a witty letter in it from Glycera or Chloe to keep the page. It is haunted. For this relief much thanks. Thy cow’s dug was tough, what? Ay, but her milk is hot and sweet and fattening. Catch aholt. Tears gushed from the eyes of the dissipated host. No question but her name is puissant who aventried the dear corse of our Agenbuyer, Healer and Herd, our mighty mother and mother most venerable and Bernardus saith aptly that She hath an omnipotentiam deiparae supplicem, that is to wit, an almightiness of petition because she is the second Eve and she won us, saith Augustine too, whereas that other, our grandam, which we are linked up with by successive anastomosis of navelcords sold us all, seed, breed and generation, for a penny pippin. Mount street way. There was a sort of scholars along either side the board, that is to wit, Dixon yclept junior of saint Mary Merciable’s with other his fellows Lynch and Madden, scholars of medicine, and the franklin that hight Lenehan and one from Alba Longa, one Crotthers, and young Stephen that had mien of a frere that was at head of the board and Costello that men clepen Punch Costello all long of a mastery of him erewhile gested (and of all them, reserved young Stephen, he was the most drunken that demanded still of more mead) and beside the meek sir Leopold. The chair of the resident indeed stood vacant before the hearth but on either flank of it the figure of Bannon in explorer’s kit of tweed shorts and salted cowhide brogues contrasted sharply with the primrose elegance and townbred manners of Malachi Roland St John Mulligan. Of Israel’s folk was that man that on earth wandering far had fared. Slattery’s mounted foot. Then young Madden showed all the whole affair and said how that she was dead and how for holy religion sake by rede of palmer and bedesman and for a vow he had made to Saint Ultan of Arbraccan her goodman husband would not let her death whereby they were all wondrous grieved. And thou hast left me alone for ever in the dark ways of my bitterness: and with a kiss of ashes hast thou kissed my mouth. And Master Lynch bade him have a care to flout and witwanton as the god self was angered for his hellprate and paganry. The lewd suggestions of some faded beauty may console him for a consort neglected and debauched but this new exponent of morals and healer of ills is at his best an exotic tree which, when rooted in its native orient, throve and flourished and was abundant in balm but, transplanted to a clime more temperate, its roots have lost their quondam vigour while the stuff that comes away from it is stagnant, acid and inoperative.
Distractions, rookshooting, the Erse language (he recited some), laudanum (he raised the phial to his lips), camping out. The colleen bawn. Every phase of the situation was successively eviscerated: the prenatal repugnance of uterine brothers, the Caesarean section, posthumity with respect to the father and, that rarer form, with respect to the mother, the fratricidal case known as the Childs Murder and rendered memorable by the impassioned plea of Mr Advocate Bushe which secured the acquittal of the wrongfully accused, the rights of primogeniture and king’s bounty touching twins and triplets, miscarriages and infanticides, simulated or dissimulated, the acardiac foetus in foetu and aprosopia due to a congestion, the agnathia of certain chinless Chinamen (cited by Mr Candidate Mulligan) in consequence of defective reunion of the maxillary knobs along the medial line so that (as he said) one ear could hear what the other spoke, the benefits of anesthesia or twilight sleep, the prolongation of labour pains in advanced gravidancy by reason of pressure on the vein, the premature relentment of the amniotic fluid (as exemplified in the actual case) with consequent peril of sepsis to the matrix, artificial insemination by means of syringes, involution of the womb consequent upon the menopause, the problem of the perpetration of the species in the case of females impregnated by delinquent rape, that distressing manner of delivery called by the Brandenburghers Sturzgeburt, the recorded instances of multiseminal, twikindled and monstrous births conceived during the catamenic period or of consanguineous parents—in a word all the cases of human nativity which Aristotle has classified in his masterpiece with chromolithographic illustrations. Obligated awful. Arith.) that both natality and mortality, as well as all other phenomena of evolution, tidal movements, lunar phases, blood temperatures, diseases in general, everything, in fine, in nature’s vast workshop from the extinction of some remote sun to the blossoming of one of the countless flowers which beautify our public parks is subject to a law of numeration as yet unascertained. Horne is lord. There she goes. Guinea to a goosegog. Burke’s! Burke’s! Thence they advanced five parasangs. Well, doc? Back fro Lapland? Your corporosity sagaciating O K? How’s the squaws and papooses? Womanbody after going on the straw? Stand and deliver. Five number ones. Omnis caro ad te veniet. Her posies too! Mad romp that she is, she had pulled her fill as we reclined together. Or it is the same figure, a year or so gone over, in his first hard hat (ah, that was a day!), already on the road, a fullfledged traveller for the family firm, equipped with an orderbook, a scented handkerchief (not for show only), his case of bright trinketware (alas! a thing now of the past!) and a quiverful of compliant smiles for this or that halfwon housewife reckoning it out upon her fingertips or for a budding virgin, shyly acknowledging (but the heart? tell me!) his studied baisemoins. Jesified, orchidised, polycimical jesuit! Aunty mine’s writing Pa Kinch. And a pull all together. He asked about Glaucon, Alcibiades, Pisistratus. That you may and very opportunely. Sir? Spud again the rheumatiz? All poppycock, you’ll scuse me saying. What means this? Desire’s wind blasts the thorntree but after it becomes from a bramblebush to be a rose upon the rood of time. Dedalus’ (Div. These factors, he alleged, and the revolting spectacles offered by our streets, hideous publicity posters, religious ministers of all denominations, mutilated soldiers and sailors, exposed scorbutic cardrivers, the suspended carcases of dead animals, paranoic bachelors and unfructified duennas—these, he said, were accountable for any and every fallingoff in the calibre of the race. Brigade! Bout ship. The young gentleman, his friend, overjoyed as he was at a passage that had late befallen him, could not forbear to tell it his nearest neighbour. I cannot but extol the virile potency of the old bucko that could still knock another child out of her. Every cove to his gentry mort. He drank drugs to obliterate. He was laying his hand upon a winejar: Malachi saw it and withheld his act, pointing to the stranger and to the scarlet label. Hard to breathe and all the young quicks clean consumed without sprinkle this long while back as no man remembered to be without. Haines! Which of us did not feel his flesh creep! He had a portfolio full of Celtic literature in one hand, in the other a phial marked Poison. Bloom (Pubb. I never see the like since I was born. He’s got a coughmixture with a punch in it for you, my friend, in his back pocket. A monstrous fine bit of cowflesh! I’ll be sworn she has rendezvoused you. With thee it was not as with many that will and would and wait and never—do. By gad, sir, a queen of them. He had horns galore, a coat of cloth of gold and a sweet smoky breath coming out of his nostrils so that the women of our island, leaving doughballs and rollingpins, followed after him hanging his bulliness in daisychains. But let us bear it as was the ancient wont. D’ye ken bare socks? Seedy cuss in the Richmond? Rawthere! Thought he had a deposit of lead in his penis. And yonder about that grey urn where the water moves at times in thoughtful irrigation you saw another as fragrant sisterhood, Floey, Atty, Tiny and their darker friend with I know not what of arresting in her pose then, Our Lady of the Cherries, a comely brace of them pendent from an ear, bringing out the foreign warmth of the skin so daintily against the cool ardent fruit. Me nantee saltee. But by and by, as said, this evening after sundown, the wind sitting in the west, biggish swollen clouds to be seen as the night increased and the weatherwise poring up at them and some sheet lightnings at first and after, past ten of the clock, one great stroke with a long thunder and in a brace of shakes all scamper pellmell within door for the smoking shower, the men making shelter for their straws with a clout or kerchief, womenfolk skipping off with kirtles catched up soon as the pour came. Bartle the Bread we calls him. Know his dona? Yup, sartin I do. Give’s a shake of peppe, you there. Tell a cram, that. Enter that antechamber of birth where the studious are assembled and note their faces. The other, Costello that is, hearing this talk asked was it poetry or a tale. Astounding! In her lay a Godframed Godgiven preformed possibility which thou hast fructified with thy modicum of man’s work. The spry rattle had run on in the same vein of mimicry but for some larum in the antechamber.
By this time the father of the faithful (for so they called him) was grown so heavy that he could scarce walk to pasture. He’s got a coughmixture with a punch in it for you, my friend, in his back pocket. Mr Justice Fitzgibbon’s door (that is to sit with Mr Healy the lawyer upon the college lands) Mal. in Midw., F. Aweel, ye maun e’en gang yer gates. There wanted nothing but this cup to crown my felicity. You not come? Run, skelter, race. He encircled his gadding hair with a coronal of vineleaves, smiling at Vincent. Bantam, two days teetee. Once her in townhithe meeting he to her bow had not doffed. And he heard their aresouns each gen other as touching birth and righteousness, young Madden maintaining that put such case it were hard the wife to die (for so it had fallen out a matter of some year agone with a woman of Eblana in Horne’s house that now was trespassed out of this world and the self night next before her death all leeches and pothecaries had taken counsel of her case) Come ahome, our Bantam. The debaters were the keenest in the land, the theme they were engaged on the loftiest and most vital. Silentium! Get a spurt on. Maledicity! he exclaimed in anguish. But, gramercy, what of those Godpossibled souls that we nightly impossibilise, which is the sin against the Holy Ghost, Very God, Lord and Giver of Life? For, sirs, he said, our lust is brief. Why think of them? If I call them into life across the waters of Lethe will not the poor ghosts troop to my call? Who supposes it? I, Bous Stephanoumenos, bullockbefriending bard, am lord and giver of their life. Mark me now. Who can say? The wise father knows his own child. Murderer’s ground.
O lust our refuge and our strength. Twig? Shrieks of silence. Buckled he is. Bet your boots on. And the traveller Leopold went into the castle for to rest him for a space being sore of limb after many marches environing in divers lands and sometime venery.
Another report states that he was a very posthumous child. Ten shillings a time.
(She sneers.) Suppose you got up the wrong side of the bed or came too quick with your best girl. SECOND WATCH: (Genially.) Ah, sure we were too.
His green eye flashes bloodshot. A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the thinking hyena. By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to Jesus those funny little chaps are not unanimous. ZOE: You’ll know me the next time.
He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and has metal teeth. Cursed dog I met. Greeneyed monster. Bloom approaches Zoe.)
I took the splinter out of this hand, carefully, slowly. With thumb and palm Corny Kelleher reassures that the two bobbies will allow the sleep to continue for what else is to be done. When was it not Atkinson his card I have somewhere. Incog!
I am a respectable married man, without a stain on my character.
(She limps over to the table. 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. Still...
Kiss. A pack of bloodhounds, led by Hornblower of Trinity brandishing a dogwhip in tallyho cap and an old pair of grey trousers, follow from far, picking up the scent, nearer, baying, panting, at fault, breaking away, throwing their tongues, biting his heels, leaping at his tail. But the first thing in the morning. Ssh!
Caress. In the course of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished.
(She arches her body in lascivious crispation, placing her forefinger in her mouth.) Spoke to me. Ah? So. Rattling good place round there for pigs’ feet. On the doorstep all the whores clustered talk volubly, pointing to the right where the fog has cleared off. Metaphysics in Mecklenburgh street!
Gone off. A general rush and scramble. Bloom stands, smiling desirously, twirling his thumbs. Gob, he organised her.
He’s a gentleman, a poet. Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare. Women faint. One of the old sweet songs.
Fifteen. Big blaze.
(Lynch tosses a cigarette from the sofa to the table.) And so Georgina Johnson is dead and married. and flows ...
Well, I’ll shove along. Ah, yes! (He takes off his high grade hat, saluting.) Dr Bloom, Leopold, dental surgeon. The eye sees all flat. BLOOM: Not likely.
Whatever do you think of me? Don’t give me away.
(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. He hops. THE NYMPH: (With a cry flees from him unveiled, her plaster cast cracking, a cloud of stench escaping from the cracks.) Poli...!
The pall of incense smoke screens and disperses. Bloom with his sceptre strikes down poppies. Kitty! (To Bloom.) Get him away, you. Have you a little present for me there?
The fauna. A saint couldn’t resist it. Lesurques and Dubosc.
(His throat twitches.) Slapbang! There he goes again.
I can never forgive you for that. in the rough sands of the sea.. To compare the various joys we each enjoy.
(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.)
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.
(She darts to the piano and bangs chords on it with crossed arms.) The cat’s ramble through the slag. Cancer did it, not I.
(They move off with slow heavy tread.)
Keep, keep, keep to the right. Union of all, jew, moslem and gentile. They talk excitedly. BOYLAN: (Sated, smiles.) Plucking a turkey.
Join on right here. Do him one in the eye. Corny Kelleher again reassuralooms with his hand.
(From on high the voice of Adonai calls.)
I’ll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. The stiff walk. Train with engine behind. FLORRY: Dreams goes by contraries.
Amen. Close shave that but cured the stitch. A bandy child, asquat on the doorstep with a paper shuttlecock, crawls sidling after her in spurts, clutches her skirt, scrambles up. LYNCH: (Calls from the hearth.) Dedalus! Give her your blessing for me.
Why? Probably lost cattle. Illustrate thou. Oaths of a man roar, mutter, cease. If there were only ethereal where would you all be, postulants and novices? Shy but willing like an ass pissing.
With a wand he beats time slowly. A discussion is difficult down here. The act of low scoundrels. Where’s the red carpet spread?
A wealthy American makes a street collection for Bloom.
(He points to himself and the others.) Poetic. Well educated. Sixtyseven is a bitch.
He wants to go straight. The princess Selene, in moonblue robes, a silver crescent on her head, descends from a Sedan chair, borne by two giants. O, I much fear he shall be most badly burned.
(Bloom holds his high grade hat over his genital organs.)
Strictly confidential. I only meant a square party, a mixed marriage mingling of our different little conjugials. Must see a dentist. Is he hurted? Don’t manhandle him! He’s fainted!
The hours of noon follow in amber gold. By heaven, I am guiltless as the unsunned snow! It was my brother Henry. 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. Not all there, in fact.
Kisses chirp amid the rifts of fog. The beast that has two backs at midnight. Press nightmare. A BELLHANGER: A classic face! He has the forehead of a thinker.
Your eyes are as vapid as the glasseyes of your stuffed fox. He wears dark velvet hose and silverbuckled pumps. A stooped bearded figure appears garbed in the long caftan of an elder in Zion and a smokingcap with magenta tassels. If you give me a hand a second, sergeant...
They will violate the secrets of your bottom drawer. The crowd bawls of dicers, crown and anchor players, thimbleriggers, broadsmen. There is plenty of her visible to the naked eye. Then nay no I have an inkling. Dillon, ex lord mayor of Dublin. A door on the return landing is flung open.
(A covey of gulls, storm petrels, rises hungrily from Liffey slime with Banbury cakes in their beaks.)
Union of all, jew, moslem and gentile. Aroma rises, a strong hairgrowth of resin. If you allow me. FIRST WATCH: Profession or trade.
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. Stephen looks at it.) Wonder.
(He laughs.) Twenty to one. BELLO: Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him.
Ten shillings. His Most Catholic Majesty will now administer open air justice. For Bloom. MRS BREEN: Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and bull story.
Wait. About noon. Tara. Retaining the perpendicular.
(He repeats.) Spontaneously to seek out the saurian’s lair in order to entrust their teats to his avid suction. Bloom, parting them swiftly, draws his caliph’s hood and poncho and hurries down the steps with sideways face. I was confirmed by the bishop and enrolled in the brown scapular. SECOND WATCH: Night, Mr Kelleher.
A mormon. Cut your hand open. The poor wife was awfully cut up. Not fit to be mentioned in mixed society! The archconspirator of the age!
the woods
..
He has gnawed all. Pay your money, take your choice. Fall from cliff. There have been cases of shipwreck and somnambulism in my client’s family.
(He feels his trouser pocket.) Poor mamma’s panacea. 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. Touch and examine shis points. 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. Join on right here. 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?
I was confirmed by the bishop and enrolled in the brown scapular. No, by God, says I. Bear’s buzz bothers bees. SECOND WATCH: (Blesses himself.) How is that possible?
p: up. When in doubt persecute Bloom. Seven dwarf simian acolytes, also in red, cardinal sins, uphold his train, peeping under it. Short cut home here. Just my infernal luck, curse it. Just a little heart to heart talk, sweety. Today.
Won’t that be nice? (He places a ruby ring on her finger.) And there now! With this ring I thee own. Cut your hand open. Too much for me now. Kismet. A stooped bearded figure appears garbed in the long caftan of an elder in Zion and a smokingcap with magenta tassels. Bright midges dance on walls. I am in a grave predicament.
Stephen totters, collapses, falls, stunned. Klook. He averts his face. They giggle. PRIVATE CARR: I don’t give a bugger who he is.
(Whispered kisses are heard in all the wood. Lewd chimpanzee. With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his crown and jauntyhatted skates in. THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: (Screaming.) Stop thief! Hurrah there, Bluebeard! Three cheers for Ikey Mo!
A fife and drum band is heard in the distance playing the Kol Nidre.
(Lynch lifts up her skirt and white petticoat with his wand. I am the Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens. MRS BREEN: Mr Bloom! You down here in the haunts of sin! I caught you nicely! Scamp!
Result of the rockinghorse races. Then in last switchback lumbering up and down bump mashtub sort of viceroy and reine relish for tublumber bumpshire rose. His green eye flashes bloodshot. BEN DOLLARD: (Nakkering castanet bones in his huge padded paws, yodels jovially in base barreltone.) When love absorbs my ardent soul.
He hesitates. Go to hell! I paid my way. Might have taken me to Malahide or a siding for the night or collision. taraxel. Lesurques and Dubosc. He leaves Florry brusquely and seizes Kitty. 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. I ought to report him. One tablespoonful of honey will attract friend Bruin more than half a dozen barrels of first choice malt vinegar. Consult index for agitated fear of aconite, melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla. Chameleon. Innocence. He twirls in reversed directions a clouded cane, then wedges it tight in his oxter. There’s the widow. Bloom stoops his back for leapfrog.)
He began to remember that this had happened or had been mentioned as having happened before but it cost him no small effort before he remembered that he recognised in the sentry a quondam friend of his father’s, Gumley. Giants, though that is rather a far cry, you see once in a way, Marcella the midget queen. I seen Russia.
—Know how to keep them off? he inquired generally.
You had to come back. Not, of course, with a hole and corner scratch company or local ladies on the job, witness Mrs C P M’Coy type lend me your valise and I’ll post you the ticket. Not, of course, with a hole and corner scratch company or local ladies on the job, witness Mrs C P M’Coy type lend me your valise and I’ll post you the ticket. And then coming back was the worst thing you ever did because it went without saying you would feel out of place as things always moved with the times. The printed matter on it stated: Choza de Indios. With a high ro! and a randy ro! and my galloping tearing tandy, O! Bow to the inevitable. Here they are. His questioner perceiving that he was not likely to get a great deal of change out of such a wily old customer, fell to woolgathering on the enormous dimensions of the water about the globe, suffice it to say that, as a casual glance at the map revealed, it covered fully three fourths of it and he fully realised accordingly what it meant to rule the waves. Mr Bloom, scarcely knowing which way to look, turned away on the moment flusterfied but outwardly calm, and, picking up from the table the pink sheet of the Abbey street organ which the jarvey, if such he was, had laid aside, he picked it up and looked at the pink of the paper though why pink. Important work. That’s where I hails from. He was out of a job and implored of Stephen to tell him where on God’s earth he could get something, anything at all, to do. Great battle, Tokio. I hate those buggers. The printed matter on it stated: Choza de Indios. Why? Because they are imbued with the proper spirit. Great battle, Tokio. The impervious navigator heard these lurid tidings, undismayed.
No, something top notch, an all star Irish caste, the Tweedy-Flower grand opera company with his own legal consort as leading lady as a sort of counterblast to the Elster Grimes and Moody-Manners, perfectly simple matter and he was quite sanguine of success, providing puffs in the local papers could be managed by some fellow with a bit of bounce who could pull the indispensable wires and thus combine business with pleasure. Secured the verdict cleverly by a length. You were a lucky dog if they didn’t set the terrier at you directly you got back. Thus prevailed on to at any rate taste it Stephen lifted the heavy mug from the brown puddle it clopped out of when taken up by the handle and took a sip of the offending beverage.
Lambert, Cornelius T. I for one certainly believe climate accounts for character. But the cream of the joke was nothing would get it out of Corley’s head that he was living in affluence and hadn’t a thing to do but hand out the needful. Throwaway and Zinfandel stood close order. proceeded to stipulate, you must look at both sides of the question. And take a piece of that bun. Lord John Corley some called him and his genealogy came about in this wise. For England, home and beauty. Can real love, supposing there happens to be another chap in the case, exist between married folk? Poser. Never about the runaway wife coming back, however much devoted to the absentee. Then someone said something about the case of the s. Grinding poverty did have that effect and he more than conjectured that, high educational abilities though he possessed, he experienced no little difficulty in making both ends meet.
Of course nobody being acquainted with his movements even before there was absolutely no clue as to his whereabouts which were decidedly of the Alice, where art thou order even prior to his starting to go under several aliases such as Fox and Stewart so the remark which emanated from friend cabby might be within the bounds of possibility. They are practical and are proved to be so. Being a levelheaded individual who could give points to not a few in point of shrewd observation he also remarked on his very dilapidated hat and slouchy wearing apparel generally testifying to a chronic impecuniosity. Do you?
The Boers were the beginning of the end. As it so happened a Dublin United Tramways Company’s sandstrewer happened to be returning and the elder man recounted to his companion à propos of the incident his own truly miraculous escape of some little while back. She is a bad merchant. Knife in his back. He asked me to ask you to ask somebody named Boylan, a billsticker, to give him a job as a sandwichman.
In any case that was very ancient history by now and as for our friend, the pseudo Skin-the-etcetera, he had transparently outlived his welcome. Unfortunately, I didn’t catch the latter portion. There he is cursing the mate. In confirmation of which statement he extricated from an inside pocket and handed to his neighbour a not very cleanlooking folded document.
And take a piece of that bun. Gordon Bennett. Gibraltar. Anyhow he was all in.
A magnificent specimen of manhood he was truly augmented obviously by gifts of a high order, as compared with the other military supernumerary that is (who was just the usual everyday farewell, my gallant captain kind of an individual in the light dragoons, the 18th hussars to be accurate) and inflammable doubtless (the fallen leader, that is, not the other) in his own peculiar way which she of course, woman, quickly perceived as highly likely to carve his way to fame which he almost bid fair to do till the priests and ministers of the gospel as a whole, his erstwhile staunch adherents, and his beloved evicted tenants for whom he had done yeoman service in the rural parts of the country by taking up the cudgels on their behalf in a way that exceeded their most sanguine expectations, very effectually cooked his matrimonial goose, thereby heaping coals of fire on his head much in the same way as the fabled ass’s kick. Gospodi pomilyou. Skin-the-Goat, assuming he was he, evidently with an axe to grind, was airing his grievances in a forcible-feeble philippic anent the natural resources of Ireland or something of that sort which he described in his lengthy dissertation as the richest country bar none on the face of God’s earth, far and away superior to England, with coal in large quantities, six million pounds worth of pork exported every year, ten millions between butter and eggs and all the riches drained out of it by England levying taxes on the poor people that paid through the nose always and gobbling up the best meat in the market and a lot more surplus steam in the same vein. The request being complied with he clawed them up with a scrape.
His initial impression was he was a shade standoffish or not over effusive but it grew on him someway. Not, of course, with a hole and corner scratch company or local ladies on the job, witness Mrs C P M’Coy type lend me your valise and I’ll post you the ticket. That’s work too.
—Dice lui, però!
He called me a jew and in a heated fashion offensively. No, it was the daughter of the mother in the washkitchen that was fostersister to the heir of the house or else they were connected through the mother in some way, both occurrences happening at the same time if the whole thing wasn’t a complete fabrication from start to finish. Everyone according to his needs or everyone according to his deeds. He had doubled the cape a few odd times and weathered a monsoon, a kind of wind, in the China seas and through all those perils of the deep there was one thing, he declared, stood to him or words to that effect, a pious medal he had that saved him.
For England, home and beauty. Different ways of bringing off a coup. And there he was at the end of his tether after having often painted the town tolerably pink without a beggarly stiver.
—That’s a good bit of steel, repeated he, examining his formidable stiletto.
The irrepressible Bloom, who also had a shrewd suspicion that the old stager went out on a manœuvre after the counterattraction in the shape of a female who however had disappeared to all intents and purposes, could by straining just perceive him, when duly refreshed by his rum puncheon exploit, gaping up at the piers and girders of the Loop line rather out of his depth as of course it was all radically altered since his last visit and greatly improved. You might put in a good word for us to get me taken on there. Though that halfbaked Lyons ran off at a tangent in his impetuosity to get left. No, something top notch, an all star Irish caste, the Tweedy-Flower grand opera company with his own legal consort as leading lady as a sort of counterblast to the Elster Grimes and Moody-Manners, perfectly simple matter and he was quite sanguine of success, providing puffs in the local papers could be managed by some fellow with a bit of bounce who could pull the indispensable wires and thus combine business with pleasure. A soft answer turns away wrath. And as for the lessee or keeper, who probably wasn’t the other person at all, he (B.) couldn’t help feeling and most properly it was better to give people like that the goby unless you were a blithering idiot altogether and refuse to have anything to do with them as a golden rule in private life and their felonsetting, there always being the offchance of a Dannyman coming forward and turning queen’s evidence or king’s now like Denis or Peter Carey, an idea he utterly repudiated. She has the Spanish type. Ate. But it was no animal’s fault in particular if he was built that way like the camel, ship of the desert, distilling grapes into potheen in his hump. That’s how the Russians prays.
Fifty yards measured. Probably the homelife to which Mr B attached the utmost importance had not been all that was needful or he hadn’t been familiarised with the right sort of people. Mr Garrett Deasy. du Boyes, agent for typewriters or something like that. Ate. And the odds were twenty to nil there was really no secret about it at all. Stephen, in reply to a politely put query, said he didn’t sing it but launched out into praises of Shakespeare’s songs, at least of in or about that period, the lutenist Dowland who lived in Fetter lane near Gerard the herbalist, who anno ludendo hausi, Doulandus, an instrument he was contemplating purchasing from Mr Arnold Dolmetsch, whom B. Since their names were coupled, though, since he was her declared favourite, where was the particular necessity to proclaim it to the rank and file from the housetops, the fact, namely, that he had shared her bedroom which came out in the witnessbox on oath when a thrill went through the packed court literally electrifying everybody in the shape of witnesses swearing to having witnessed him on such and such a particular date in the act of scrambling out of an upstairs apartment with the assistance of a ladder in night apparel, having gained admittance in the same fashion, a fact the weeklies, addicted to the lubric a little, simply coined shoals of money out of. But with a little goodwill all round. He threw an odd eye at the same time now and then at Stephen’s anything but immaculately attired interlocutor as if he had seen that nobleman somewhere or other though where he was not in a position to truthfully state nor had he the remotest idea when. He looked sideways in a friendly fashion at the sideface of Stephen, image of his mother, which was not quite the same as the usual handsome blackguard type they unquestionably had an insatiable hankering after as he was perhaps not that way built.
You were a lucky dog if they didn’t set the terrier at you directly you got back. Of course gambling eminently lent itself to that sort of thing though as the event turned out the poor fool hadn’t much reason to congratulate himself on his pick, the forlorn hope. Stomachs like breadgraters. However in another pocket he came across what he surmised in the dark were pennies, erroneously however, as it turned out.
For the nonce he was rather nonplussed but inasmuch as the duty plainly devolved upon him to take some measures on the subject he pondered suitable ways and means during which Stephen repeatedly yawned. du Boyes, agent for typewriters or something like that. To think of him house and homeless, rooked by some landlady worse than any stepmother, was really too bad at his age.
—Have you seen the rock of Gibraltar? Mr Bloom inquired.
I hate those buggers. Victory of outsider Throwaway recalls Derby of ‘92 when Capt. But even a dog, he reflected, take that mongrel in Barney Kiernan’s, of the same size, would be a holy horror to face. He turned away from the others who probably and spoke nearer to, so as the others in case they.
I seen her picture in a barber’s. No chair for father. A move had to be made because that merry old soul, the grasswidower in question who appeared to be glued to the spot, didn’t appear in any particular hurry to wend his way home to his dearly beloved Queenstown and it was highly likely some sponger’s bawdyhouse of retired beauties where age was no bar off Sheriff street lower would be the best clue to that equivocal character’s whereabouts for a few days to come, alternately racking their feelings (the mermaids’) with sixchamber revolver anecdotes verging on the tropical calculated to freeze the marrow of anybody’s bones and mauling their largesized charms betweenwhiles with rough and tumble gusto to the accompaniment of large potations of potheen and the usual blarney about himself for as to who he in reality was let x equal my right name and address, as Mr Algebra remarks passim. Give us back them papers.
Furthermore he had a row with Lenehan and called him to Stephen a mean bloody swab with a sprinkling of a number of other uncalledfor expressions. The mourners included: Patk. Kelleher, Joseph M’C Hynes, L. Marble could give the original, shoulders, back, all the symmetry, all the rest. Palpably he was one of his hangerson but for the matter of that it was merely a question of one preying on his nextdoor neighbour all round, in every deep, so to put it, a deeper depth and for the matter of that if the man in the street chanced to be in the dock himself penal servitude with or without the option of a fine would be a very rara avis altogether. Nevertheless he sat tight just viewing the slightly soiled photo creased by opulent curves, none the worse for wear however, and looked away thoughtfully with the intention of not further increasing the other’s possible embarrassment while gauging her symmetry of heaving embonpoint. Anyhow he was all in.
who were conspicuous, needless to say, by their total absence (to say nothing of M’Intosh) L. in the course of his perambulations round the docks in the congenial atmosphere of the Old Ireland tavern, come back to Erin and so on. Brummagem England was toppling already and her downfall would be Ireland, her Achilles heel, which he explained to them about the vulnerable point of Achilles, the Greek hero, a point his auditors at once seized as he completely gripped their attention by showing the tendon referred to on his boot. Thus prevailed on to at any rate taste it Stephen lifted the heavy mug from the brown puddle it clopped out of when taken up by the handle and took a sip of the offending beverage.
Dignam (son), Bernard Corrigan (brother-in-law), Jno. He’s gone too. I shipped to get over. There were wrecks and wreckers, the keeper said, who was evidently au fait.
Lovemaking damages. It’s all very fine to boast of mutual superiority but what about mutual equality. Winner trained by Braime so that Lenehan’s version of the business was all pure buncombe. I’ll just pay this lot.
Knife in his back. I call that patriotism. coalminers, divers, scavengers etc., were very much under the microscope lately. Ireland, Parnell said, could not spare a single one of her sons.
Emigration Swindle. Quite a number of stories there were on that particular Alice Ben Bolt topic, Enoch Arden and Rip van Winkle and does anybody hereabouts remember Caoc O’Leary, a favourite and most trying declamation piece by the way of poor John Casey and a bit of perfect poetry in its own small way. Though palpably a radically altered man he was still a commanding figure though carelessly garbed as usual with that look of settled purpose which went a long way with the shillyshallyers till they discovered to their vast discomfiture that their idol had feet of clay after placing him upon a pedestal which she, however, was the first to perceive. She put the first nail in his coffin.
Simply absconded somewhere. Do you like cocoa? Wait. Highly unlikely of course there was even a shadow of truth in the stones and, even supposing, he thought a return highly inadvisable, all things considered. The rebuke of some kind was clearer than the other part. Someway in his. Martin Cunningham frequently said he would work a pass through Egan but some deuced hitch or other eternally cropped up with the net result that the scheme fell through. After all, hang it, they had their eleven and more humdrum months of it and merited a radical change of venue after the grind of city life in the summertime for choice when dame Nature is at her spectacular best constituting nothing short of a new lease of life. Dead he wasn’t. On the contrary that stab in the back touch was quite in keeping with those italianos though candidly he was none the less free to admit those icecreamers and friers in the fish way not to mention the chip potato variety and so forth over in little Italy there near the Coombe were sober thrifty hardworking fellows except perhaps a bit too given to pothunting the harmless necessary animal of the feline persuasion of others at night so as to have a good old succulent tuckin with garlic de rigueur off him or her next day on the quiet and, he added, on the cheap.
That’s the vital issue at stake and it’s feasible and would be provocative of friendlier intercourse between man and man. With a high ro! and a randy ro! and my galloping tearing tandy, O! Bow to the inevitable. You have every bit as much right to live by your pen in pursuit of your philosophy as the peasant has. But who? That was the rub.
Then someone said something about the case of the s. He bet them what they liked. Looking back now in a retrospective kind of arrangement all seemed a kind of dream. And in point of fact the young man named Antonio’s livid face did actually look like forced smiling and the curious effect excited the unreserved admiration of everybody including Skin-the-Goat, who this time stretched over.
Point of fact she could actually claim Spanish nationality if she wanted, having been born in (technically) Spain, i.e. Lovemaking damages. Also literary labour not merely for the kudos of the thing. There’s an example again of simple souls.
No, something top notch, an all star Irish caste, the Tweedy-Flower grand opera company with his own legal consort as leading lady as a sort of counterblast to the Elster Grimes and Moody-Manners, perfectly simple matter and he was quite sanguine of success, providing puffs in the local papers could be managed by some fellow with a bit of bounce who could pull the indispensable wires and thus combine business with pleasure. She loosened many a man’s thighs. His friends had all deserted him. Cuts off their diddies when they can’t bear no more children.
The face at the window! Judge of his astonishment when he finally did breast the tape and the awful truth dawned upon him anent his better half, wrecked in his affections. Some person or persons invisible directed him to the male urinal erected by the cleansing committee all over the place for the purpose but after a brief space of time during which silence reigned supreme the sailor, evidently giving it a wide berth, eased himself closer at hand, the noise of his bilgewater some little time subsequently splashing on the ground where it apparently awoke a horse of the cabrank. It’s them black lads I objects to. I seen him do that in Stockholm.
They are practical and are proved to be so. The hoi polloi of jarvies or stevedores or whatever they were after a cursory examination turned their eyes apparently dissatisfied, away though one redbearded bibulous individual, portion of whose hair was greyish, a sailor probably, still stared for some appreciable time before transferring his rapt attention to the floor. Cocks his gun over his shoulder. Rumpled stockings, it may be, possibly is, a foible of mine but still it’s a thing I simply hate to see.
There he is cursing the mate. Slowly three times, one after another, from a full crupper he mired. It ran as follows: Tarjeta Postal, Señor A Boudin, Galeria Becche, Santiago, Chile. Just in the nick of time Mr Bloom touched his companion’s boot but Stephen, apparently disregarding the warm pressure from an unexpected quarter, answered:
Though not an implicit believer in the lurid story narrated (or the eggsniping transaction for that matter despite William Tell and the Lazarillo-Don Cesar de Bazan incident depicted in Maritana on which occasion the former’s ball passed through the latter’s hat) having detected a discrepancy between his name (assuming he was the person he represented himself to be and not sailing under false colours after having boxed the compass on the strict q.t. Since their names were coupled, though, since he was her declared favourite, where was the particular necessity to proclaim it to the rank and file from the housetops, the fact, namely, that he had shared her bedroom which came out in the witnessbox on oath when a thrill went through the packed court literally electrifying everybody in the shape of witnesses swearing to having witnessed him on such and such a particular date in the act of scrambling out of an upstairs apartment with the assistance of a ladder in night apparel, having gained admittance in the same fashion, a fact the weeklies, addicted to the lubric a little, simply coined shoals of money out of. You little expected me but I’ve come to stay and make a fresh start.
—Beg pardon, the sailor said.
For England, home and beauty. Ubi patria, as we learned a smattering of in our classical days in Alma Mater, vita bene. I seen her picture in a barber’s. Stephen anyhow lent him one of them.
Not, he parenthesised, that for the sake of filthy lucre he need necessarily embrace the lyric platform as a walk in life for any lengthy space of time. Believes me dead, rocked in the cradle of the deep. Naturally then it would prey on his mind as a born leader of men which undoubtedly he was and a commanding figure, a sixfooter or at any rate five feet ten or eleven in his stockinged feet, whereas Messrs So and So who, though they weren’t even a patch on the former man, ruled the roost after their redeeming features were very few and far between. Really, Mr Bloom said (though first he fancied he alluded to the archbishop till he added about foot and mouth with which there could be no possible connection) overjoyed to set his mind at rest and a bit flabbergasted at Myles Crawford’s after all managing to. Jesus, Mr Doyle. A magnificent specimen of manhood he was truly augmented obviously by gifts of a high order, as compared with the other military supernumerary that is (who was just the usual everyday farewell, my gallant captain kind of an individual in the light dragoons, the 18th hussars to be accurate) and inflammable doubtless (the fallen leader, that is, not the other) in his own peculiar way which she of course, woman, quickly perceived as highly likely to carve his way to fame which he almost bid fair to do till the priests and ministers of the gospel as a whole, his erstwhile staunch adherents, and his beloved evicted tenants for whom he had done yeoman service in the rural parts of the country by taking up the cudgels on their behalf in a way that exceeded their most sanguine expectations, very effectually cooked his matrimonial goose, thereby heaping coals of fire on his head much in the same way as the fabled ass’s kick. Martin Cunningham frequently said he would work a pass through Egan but some deuced hitch or other eternally cropped up with the net result that the scheme fell through. No chair for father. Paid off this afternoon. Fellow, the name of Antonio, done that. Her master, the Mona’s, said he was afraid his collision bulkhead would give way. Giants, though that is rather a far cry, you see once in a way, Marcella the midget queen. That’s the vital issue at stake and it’s feasible and would be provocative of friendlier intercourse between man and man. Adjacent to the men’s public urinal they perceived an icecream car round which a group of presumably Italians in heated altercation were getting rid of voluble expressions in their vivacious language in a particularly animated way, there being some little differences between the parties.
Everyone according to his needs or everyone according to his deeds. But even a dog, he reflected, take that mongrel in Barney Kiernan’s, of the same size, would be a holy horror to face. Besides he said the picture was handsome which, say what you like, it was though at the moment she was distinctly stouter.
—They accuse, remarked he audibly.
But it was scarcely professional etiquette so. Highly providential was the appearance on the scene of Corny Kelleher when Stephen was blissfully unconscious but for that man in the gap turning up at the eleventh hour the finis might have been that he might have been a candidate for the accident ward or, failing that, the bridewell and an appearance in the court next day before Mr Tobias or, he being the solicitor rather, old Wall, he meant to say, or Mahony which simply spelt ruin for a chap when it got bruited about. Stephen of his own accord stopped for no special reason to look at the heap of barren cobblestones and by the light emanating from the brazier he could just make out the darker figure of the corporation watchman inside the gloom of the sentrybox. Just in the nick of time Mr Bloom touched his companion’s boot but Stephen, apparently disregarding the warm pressure from an unexpected quarter, answered:
It ran as follows: Tarjeta Postal, Señor A Boudin, Galeria Becche, Santiago, Chile. New York disaster. And even supposing you did you won’t get in after what occurred at Westland Row station.
—Count me out, he managed to remark, meaning work.
There were equally excellent opportunities for vacationists in the home island, delightful sylvan spots for rejuvenation, offering a plethora of attractions as well as a bracing tonic for the system in and around Dublin and its picturesque environs even, Poulaphouca to which there was a steamtram, but also farther away from the madding crowd in Wicklow, rightly termed the garden of Ireland, an ideal neighbourhood for elderly wheelmen so long as it didn’t come down, and in the wilds of Donegal where if report spoke true the coup d’œil was exceedingly grand though the lastnamed locality was not easily getatable so that the influx of visitors was not as yet all that it might be considering the signal benefits to be derived from it while Howth with its historic associations and otherwise, Silken Thomas, Grace O’Malley, George IV, rhododendrons several hundred feet above sealevel was a favourite haunt with all sorts and conditions of men especially in the spring when young men’s fancy, though it had its own toll of deaths by falling off the cliffs by design or accidentally, usually, by the way, on their left leg, it being only about three quarters of an hour’s run from the pillar. It never reaches anything or stops anything. A move had to be made because that merry old soul, the grasswidower in question who appeared to be glued to the spot, didn’t appear in any particular hurry to wend his way home to his dearly beloved Queenstown and it was highly likely some sponger’s bawdyhouse of retired beauties where age was no bar off Sheriff street lower would be the best clue to that equivocal character’s whereabouts for a few days to come, alternately racking their feelings (the mermaids’) with sixchamber revolver anecdotes verging on the tropical calculated to freeze the marrow of anybody’s bones and mauling their largesized charms betweenwhiles with rough and tumble gusto to the accompaniment of large potations of potheen and the usual blarney about himself for as to who he in reality was let x equal my right name and address, as Mr Algebra remarks passim. Why, as he reflected, Irishtown strand, a locality he had not been in for quite a number of years looked different somehow since, as it happened, he went to reside on the north side. I’d carry a sandwichboard only the girl in the office told me they’re full up for the next three weeks, man. Mr Bloom, so far as he was personally concerned, was just pondering in pensive mood. First it was strictly Platonic till nature intervened and an attachment sprang up between them till bit by bit matters came to a climax and the matter became the talk of the town till the staggering blow came as a welcome intelligence to not a few evildisposed, however, who were resolved upon encompassing his downfall though the thing was public property all along though not to anything like the sensational extent that it subsequently blossomed into. My wife is, so to speak, Spanish, half that is. Paid off this afternoon. You frittered away your time, he very sensibly maintained, and health and also character besides which, the squandermania of the thing, fast women of the demimonde ran away with a lot of £ Mr F. Furthermore he had a row with Lenehan and called him to Stephen a mean bloody swab with a sprinkling of a number of other uncalledfor expressions. He deposited the quid in his gob and, chewing and with some slow stammers, proceeded:
Murphy. Dead he wasn’t. I’ll pay you back one time. What he wanted to ascertain was why that ship ran bang against the only rock in Galway bay when the Galway harbour scheme was mooted by a Mr Worthington or some name like that, eh? Ask the then captain, he advised them, how much palmoil the British government gave him for that day’s work, Captain John Lever of the Lever Line.
In any case that was very ancient history by now and as for our friend, the pseudo Skin-the-etcetera, he had transparently outlived his welcome. There was a dosshouse in Marlborough street, Mrs Maloney’s, but it was only a tanner touch and full of undesirables but M’Conachie told him you got a decent enough do in the Brazen Head over in Winetavern street (which was distantly suggestive to the person addressed of friar Bacon) for a bob. Between this point and the high at present unlit warehouses of Beresford place Stephen thought to think of Ibsen, associated with Baird’s the stonecutter’s in his mind somehow in Talbot place, first turning on the right, while the other who was acting as his fidus Achates inhaled with internal satisfaction the smell of James Rourke’s city bakery, situated quite close to where they were, the very palatable odour indeed of our daily bread, of all commodities of the public the primary and most indispensable.
—Buffalo Bill shoots to kill,
Never missed nor he never will.
Sulphate of copper poison SO4 or something in some dried peas he remembered reading of in a cheap eatinghouse somewhere but he couldn’t remember when it was or where. Believes me dead, rocked in the cradle of the deep. Who’s that with you? I saw him a few times in the Bleeding Horse in Camden street with Boylan, the billsticker. It reminds me of Roman history.
That’s the juggle on which the p.p.‘s raise the wind on false pretences. He toured the wide world with Hengler’s Royal Circus. O’Neill and Son, 164 North Strand Road.
—What age is he? queried one hearer who, by the way, seen from the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell, the townclerk, away from the carking cares of office, unwashed of course and in a seedy getup and a strong suspicion of nosepaint about the nasal appendage.
But as for that the two misdemeanants, wrapped up as they largely were in one another, could safely afford to ignore it as they very largely did till the matter was put in the hands of a solicitor who filed a petition for the party wronged in due course. But even a dog, he reflected, take that mongrel in Barney Kiernan’s, of the same size, would be a holy horror to face. As those were particularly hot times in the general hullaballoo Bloom sustained a minor injury from a nasty prod of some chap’s elbow in the crowd that of course congregated lodging some place about the pit of the stomach, fortunately not of a grave character. Then the decree nisi and the King’s proctor tries to show cause why and, he failing to quash it, nisi was made absolute. He turned away from the others who probably and spoke nearer to, so as the others in case they.
Whereas the simple fact of the case was it was simply a case of the husband not being up to the scratch, with nothing in common between them beyond the name, and then a real man arriving on the scene, strong to the verge of weakness, falling a victim to her siren charms and forgetting home ties, the usual sequel, to bask in the loved one’s smiles. My wife is, so to speak, Spanish, half that is. Gordon Bennett. Then he screwed his features up someway sideways and glared out into the night with an unprepossessing cast of countenance.
Sheer force of natural genius, that. As those were particularly hot times in the general hullaballoo Bloom sustained a minor injury from a nasty prod of some chap’s elbow in the crowd that of course congregated lodging some place about the pit of the stomach, fortunately not of a grave character. Never on the spot when wanted but in quiet parts of the city, Pembroke road for example, the guardians of the law were well in evidence, the obvious reason being they were paid to protect the upper classes.
—To seek misfortune, was Stephen’s answer.
As for the face it was a speaking likeness in expression but it did not do justice to her figure which came in for a lot of notice usually and which did not come out to the best advantage in that getup. The rebuke of some kind was clearer than the other part. Boom pointed it out to his companion B. He turned away from the others who probably and spoke nearer to, so as the others in case they.
She loosened many a man’s thighs. New York disaster. He was just a big nervous foolish noodly kind of a horse, without a second care in the world.
—Couldn’t, Stephen contrived to get out, his mental organs for the moment refusing to dictate further.
But it was no animal’s fault in particular if he was built that way like the camel, ship of the desert, distilling grapes into potheen in his hump. who were conspicuous, needless to say, by their total absence (to say nothing of M’Intosh) L. M’Coy and Stephen Dedalus B. It’s a patent absurdity on the face of it to hate people because they live round the corner and speak another vernacular, in the next house so to speak.
Also ran: J de Bremond’s (French horse Bantam Lyons was anxiously inquiring after not in yet but expected any minute) Maximum II. Point of fact she could actually claim Spanish nationality if she wanted, having been born in (technically) Spain, i.e. At the same time he inwardly chuckled over his gentle repartee to the blood and ouns champion about his god being a jew. He bet them what they liked. Marshall’s dark horse Sir Hugo captured the blue ribband at long odds. Know where that is?
Not, he parenthesised, that for the sake of filthy lucre he need necessarily embrace the lyric platform as a walk in life for any lengthy space of time. Analogous scenes are occasionally, if not often, met with. Though that halfbaked Lyons ran off at a tangent in his impetuosity to get left.
—Come, he counselled to close the séance.
An opening was all was wanted. Besides, though taste latterly had deteriorated to a degree, original music like that, different from the conventional rut, would rapidly have a great vogue as it would be a decided novelty for Dublin’s musical world after the usual hackneyed run of catchy tenor solos foisted on a confiding public by Ivan St Austell and Hilton St Just and their genus omne. She is a bad merchant. Salt junk all the time.
He toured the wide world with Hengler’s Royal Circus. There was the unanimous opinion that there was none to come up to her and suffice it to say in a place of worship for music of a sacred character there was a generally voiced desire for an encore. Mr Bloom actuated by motives of inherent delicacy inasmuch as he always believed in minding his own business moved off but nevertheless remained on the qui vive with just a shade of anxiety though not funkyish in the least.
—Dedalus.
An opening was all was wanted. But a step in the required direction it was beyond yea or nay and both monetarily and mentally it contained no reflection on his dignity in the smallest and it often turned in uncommonly handy to be handed a cheque at a muchneeded moment when every little helped. Yet, though such criminal propensities had never been an inmate of his bosom in any shape or form, he certainly did feel and no denying it (while inwardly remaining what he was) a certain kind of admiration for a man who had actually brandished a knife, cold steel, with the courage of his political convictions (though, personally, he would never be a party to any such thing), off the same bat as those love vendettas of the south, have her or swing for her, when the husband frequently, after some words passed between the two concerning her relations with the other lucky mortal (he having had the pair watched), inflicted fatal injuries on his adored one as a result of an alternative postnuptial liaison by plunging his knife into her, until it just struck him that Fitz, nicknamed Skin-the-Goat, merely drove the car for the actual perpetrators of the outrage and so was not, if he was reliably informed, actually party to the ambush which, in point of fact, was the plea some legal luminary saved his skin on. To which absorbing piece of intelligence echo answered why.
He takes great pride, quite legitimate, out of you. Whale with a harpoon hairpin, alligator tickle the small of his back and he sees the joke, chalk a circle for a rooster, tiger my eagle eye. Ubi patria, as we learned a smattering of in our classical days in Alma Mater, vita bene. Anyhow he was all in.
He called me a jew and in a heated fashion offensively. There he is cursing the mate. The reason he mentioned the fact was that a lot of those policemen, whom he cordially disliked, were admittedly unscrupulous in the service of the Crown and, as Mr Bloom put it, recalling a case or two in the A division in Clanbrassil street, prepared to swear a hole through a ten gallon pot. S.
It ran as follows: Tarjeta Postal, Señor A Boudin, Galeria Becche, Santiago, Chile. Though that halfbaked Lyons ran off at a tangent in his impetuosity to get left. He’s the backbone of our empire. That was why they thought the park murders of the invincibles was done by foreigners on account of them using knives.
My diggings are quite close in the vicinity. He bet them what they liked. After all, from the little I know of you, after all the money expended on your education you are entitled to recoup yourself and command your price. Nevertheless, without going into the minutiae of the business, the eloquent fact remained that the sea was there in all its glory and in the natural course of things somebody or other had to sail on it and fly in the face of providence though it merely went to show how people usually contrived to load that sort of onus on to the other fellow like the hell idea and the lottery and insurance which were run on identically the same lines so that for that very reason if no other lifeboat Sunday was a highly laudable institution to which the public at large, no matter where living inland or seaside, as the case might be, having it brought home to them like that should extend its gratitude also to the harbourmasters and coastguard service who had to man the rigging and push off and out amid the elements whatever the season when duty called Ireland expects that every man and so on and sometimes had a terrible time of it in the wintertime not forgetting the Irish lights, Kish and others, liable to capsize at any moment, rounding which he once with his daughter had experienced some remarkably choppy, not to say stormy, weather.
Furthermore he had a row with Lenehan and called him to Stephen a mean bloody swab with a sprinkling of a number of other uncalledfor expressions. No aid was given. Like that. Suppose she was gone when he? I looked for the lamp which she told me came into his mind but merely as a passing fancy of his because he then recollected the morning littered bed etcetera and the book about Ruby with met him pike hoses (sic) in it which must have fell down sufficiently appropriately beside the domestic chamberpot with apologies to Lindley Murray.
However haud ignarus malorum miseris succurrere disco etcetera as the Latin poet remarks especially as luck would have it he got paid his screw after every middle of the month on the sixteenth which was the date of the month as a matter of fact though a good bit of the wherewithal was demolished. I belongs there. Mr Garrett Deasy. Very like her then.
Because if they didn’t believe they’d go straight to heaven when they die they’d try to live better, at least so I think. Who’s that with you? I saw him a few times in the Bleeding Horse in Camden street with Boylan, the billsticker. William ✠ Suppose she was gone when he? I looked for the lamp which she told me came into his mind but merely as a passing fancy of his because he then recollected the morning littered bed etcetera and the book about Ruby with met him pike hoses (sic) in it which must have fell down sufficiently appropriately beside the domestic chamberpot with apologies to Lindley Murray.
In the nature of single blessedness he would one day take unto himself a wife when Miss Right came on the scene but in the interim ladies’ society was a conditio sine qua non though he had the gravest possible doubts, not that he wanted in the smallest to pump Stephen about Miss Ferguson (who was very possibly the particular lodestar who brought him down to Irishtown so early in the morning), as to whether he would find much satisfaction basking in the boy and girl courtship idea and the company of smirking misses without a penny to their names bi or triweekly with the orthodox preliminary canter of complimentplaying and walking out leading up to fond lovers’ ways and flowers and chocs. Ladies who like distinctive underclothing should, and every welltailored man must, trying to make the gap wider between them by innuendo and give more of a genuine filip to acts of impropriety between the two, she unbuttoned his and then he untied her, mind the pin, whereas savages in the cannibal islands, say, at ninety degrees in the shade not caring a continental. Palpably he was one of his hangerson but for the matter of that it was merely a question of one preying on his nextdoor neighbour all round, in every deep, so to put it, a deeper depth and for the matter of that if the man in the street chanced to be in the dock himself penal servitude with or without the option of a fine would be a very rara avis altogether. Really, Mr Bloom said (though first he fancied he alluded to the archbishop till he added about foot and mouth with which there could be no possible connection) overjoyed to set his mind at rest and a bit flabbergasted at Myles Crawford’s after all managing to. About biscuits he dimly remembered. Paid off this afternoon.
—Neat bit of work, one longshoreman said.
Between this point and the high at present unlit warehouses of Beresford place Stephen thought to think of Ibsen, associated with Baird’s the stonecutter’s in his mind somehow in Talbot place, first turning on the right, while the other who was acting as his fidus Achates inhaled with internal satisfaction the smell of James Rourke’s city bakery, situated quite close to where they were, the very palatable odour indeed of our daily bread, of all commodities of the public the primary and most indispensable. coalminers, divers, scavengers etc., were very much under the microscope lately. Where would you find anywhere the like of Irish bacon? But a day of reckoning, he stated crescendo with no uncertain voice, thoroughly monopolising all the conversation, was in store for mighty England, despite her power of pelf on account of her crimes. Side by side Bloom, profiting by the contretemps, with Stephen passed through the gap of the chains, divided by the upright, and, stepping over a strand of mire, went across towards Gardiner street lower, Stephen singing more boldly, but not loudly, the end of the ballad.
And then, number one, you came up against the man in possession and had to produce your credentials like the claimant in the Tichborne case, Roger Charles Tichborne, Bella was the boat’s name to the best of his recollection he, the heir, went down in as the evidence went to show and there was a tattoo mark too in Indian ink, lord Bellew was it, as he might very easily have picked up the details from some pal on board ship and then, when got up to tally with the description given, introduce himself with: Excuse me, my name is So and So or some such commonplace remark. The only thing is to walk then you’ll feel a different man. Also why washing which seemed rather vague than not, your washing. Where does he live at present? I gathered in the course of conversation that he had moved.
I don’t want to indulge in any because you know the standard works on the subject and then orthodox as you are. Whale with a harpoon hairpin, alligator tickle the small of his back and he sees the joke, chalk a circle for a rooster, tiger my eagle eye. Broo! The wind! Her brandnew arrival is on her knee, post mortem child. As for Mr Bloom he could neither make head or tail of the whole business and he was just asking himself what possible connection when the sailor of his own accord turned to the other occupants of the shelter with the remark:
For one thing he mightn’t what you call jump at the idea, if approached, and what mostly worried him was he didn’t know how to lead up to it or word it exactly, supposing he did entertain the proposal, as it would afford him very great personal pleasure if he would allow him to help to put coin in his way or some wardrobe, if found suitable. But it was no animal’s fault in particular if he was built that way like the camel, ship of the desert, distilling grapes into potheen in his hump. I belongs there. And as for the lessee or keeper, who probably wasn’t the other person at all, he (B.) couldn’t help feeling and most properly it was better to give people like that the goby unless you were a blithering idiot altogether and refuse to have anything to do with them as a golden rule in private life and their felonsetting, there always being the offchance of a Dannyman coming forward and turning queen’s evidence or king’s now like Denis or Peter Carey, an idea he utterly repudiated. He turned back the other side of the card, picture, and passed it along to Stephen.
Shakespeares were as common as Murphies. Why do you not write your poetry in that language? Bella Poetria! It is so melodious and full. Besides he said the picture was handsome which, say what you like, it was though at the moment she was distinctly stouter. And as for the lessee or keeper, who probably wasn’t the other person at all, he (B.) couldn’t help feeling and most properly it was better to give people like that the goby unless you were a blithering idiot altogether and refuse to have anything to do with them as a golden rule in private life and their felonsetting, there always being the offchance of a Dannyman coming forward and turning queen’s evidence or king’s now like Denis or Peter Carey, an idea he utterly repudiated. That haunting sense kind of drew you. Lovemaking damages.
—To sweep the floor in the morning.
Dignam (son), Bernard Corrigan (brother-in-law), Jno. Marshall’s dark horse Sir Hugo captured the blue ribband at long odds. Mr Bloom, so far as he was personally concerned, was just pondering in pensive mood. Nobody volunteering a statement he winked, saying:
Jesus, Mr Doyle. He was out of a job and implored of Stephen to tell him where on God’s earth he could get something, anything at all, to do. And he did feel a kind of need there and then to follow suit like a kind of inward voice and satisfy a possible need by moving a motion.
—The king of Spain’s daughter, Stephen answered, adding something or other rather muddled about farewell and adieu to you Spanish onions and the first land called the Deadman and from Ramhead to Scilly was so and so many.
Mr Bloom actuated by motives of inherent delicacy inasmuch as he always believed in minding his own business moved off but nevertheless remained on the qui vive with just a shade of anxiety though not funkyish in the least. For one thing he mightn’t what you call jump at the idea, if approached, and what mostly worried him was he didn’t know how to lead up to it or word it exactly, supposing he did entertain the proposal, as it would afford him very great personal pleasure if he would allow him to help to put coin in his way or some wardrobe, if found suitable. His inscrutable face which was really a work of art, a perfect study in itself, beggaring description, conveyed the impression that he didn’t understand one jot of what was going on. Hereupon he pawed the journal open and pored upon Lord only knows what, found drowned or the exploits of King Willow, Iremonger having made a hundred and something second wicket not out for Notts, during which time (completely regardless of Ire) the keeper was intensely occupied loosening an apparently new or secondhand boot which manifestly pinched him as he muttered against whoever it was sold it, all of them who were sufficiently awake enough to be picked out by their facial expressions, that is to say, either simply looking on glumly or passing a trivial remark.
I for one certainly believe climate accounts for character. He takes great pride, quite legitimate, out of you. So similarly he had a very shrewd suspicion that Mr Johnny Lever got rid of some £
—But I suspect, Stephen interrupted, that Ireland must be important because it belongs to me.
Accordingly after a few such preliminaries as brushing, in spite of his having forgotten to take up his rather soapsuddy handkerchief after it had done yeoman service in the shaving line, they both walked together along Beaver street or, more properly, lane as far as the farrier’s and the distinctly fetid atmosphere of the livery stables at the corner of Montgomery street where they made tracks to the left from thence debouching into Amiens street round by the corner of Dan Bergin’s. He could hear, of course, all kinds of words changing colour like those crabs about Ringsend in the morning burrowing quickly into all colours of different sorts of the same sand where they had a home somewhere beneath or seemed to. You have every bit as much right to live by your pen in pursuit of your philosophy as the peasant has.
—Ex quibus, Stephen mumbled in a noncommittal accent, their two or four eyes conversing, Christus or Bloom his name is or after all any other, secundum carnem.
Marshall’s dark horse Sir Hugo captured the blue ribband at long odds. You were a lucky dog if they didn’t set the terrier at you directly you got back. A few broken biscuits were all the result of his investigation. Nobody volunteering a statement he winked, saying:
Betting 5 to 4 on Zinfandel, 20 to 1 Throwaway (off) Try it. Stephen, in reply to a politely put query, said he didn’t sing it but launched out into praises of Shakespeare’s songs, at least of in or about that period, the lutenist Dowland who lived in Fetter lane near Gerard the herbalist, who anno ludendo hausi, Doulandus, an instrument he was contemplating purchasing from Mr Arnold Dolmetsch, whom B.
—Mezzo.
Dead he wasn’t. Accordingly after a few such preliminaries as brushing, in spite of his having forgotten to take up his rather soapsuddy handkerchief after it had done yeoman service in the shaving line, they both walked together along Beaver street or, more properly, lane as far as the farrier’s and the distinctly fetid atmosphere of the livery stables at the corner of Montgomery street where they made tracks to the left from thence debouching into Amiens street round by the corner of Dan Bergin’s. You little expected me but I’ve come to stay and make a fresh start. Whilst speaking he produced a dangerouslooking claspknife quite in keeping with his character and held it in the striking position.
He was altogether too fagged out to institute a thorough search though he tried to recollect. Still candour compelled him to admit he had washed his wife’s undergarments when soiled in Holles street and women would and did too a man’s similar garments initialled with Bewley and Draper’s marking ink (hers were, that is) if they really loved him, that is to say, love me, love my dirty shirt. You had to come back. Look at him.
You were a lucky dog if they didn’t set the terrier at you directly you got back. Whereas the simple fact of the case was it was simply a case of the husband not being up to the scratch, with nothing in common between them beyond the name, and then a real man arriving on the scene, strong to the verge of weakness, falling a victim to her siren charms and forgetting home ties, the usual sequel, to bask in the loved one’s smiles. proceeded to stipulate, you must look at both sides of the question. That was one for him. She loosened many a man’s thighs. He ought to have done away with himself or lain low for a time after committee room no 15 until he was his old self again with no-one to point a finger at him. He dwelt, being a bit of an artist in his spare time, on the female form in general developmentally because, as it so happened, no later than that afternoon he had seen those Grecian statues, perfectly developed as works of art, in the National Museum. He’s the backbone of our empire. You were a lucky dog if they didn’t set the terrier at you directly you got back. Paid off this afternoon. An opening was all was wanted. A., Edw.
—Why, the sailor answered with a slow puzzled utterance, my son, Danny? He’d be about eighteen now, way I figure it.
Possibly he had tried to find out the secret for himself, floundering up and down the antipodes and all that sort of thing and over and under, well, not exactly under, tempting the fates. For instance there was the case of O’Callaghan, for one, the halfcrazy faddist, respectably connected though of inadequate means, with his mad vagaries among whose other gay doings when rotto and making himself a nuisance to everybody all round he was in the habit of ostentatiously sporting in public a suit of brown paper (a fact) Still as regards return. I was in the Red Sea. Do you like cocoa? Wait. Palpably he was one of his hangerson but for the matter of that it was merely a question of one preying on his nextdoor neighbour all round, in every deep, so to put it, a deeper depth and for the matter of that if the man in the street chanced to be in the dock himself penal servitude with or without the option of a fine would be a very rara avis altogether. But with a little goodwill all round. And the odds were twenty to nil there was really no secret about it at all. Do you think they are genuine? He could spin those yarns for hours on end all night long and lie like old boots. William ✠ People could put up with being bitten by a wolf but what properly riled them was a bite from a sheep. She loosened many a man’s thighs.
—What age is he? queried one hearer who, by the way, seen from the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell, the townclerk, away from the carking cares of office, unwashed of course and in a seedy getup and a strong suspicion of nosepaint about the nasal appendage.
The mourners included: Patk. Possible, especially there, it was as she lived there. He toured the wide world with Hengler’s Royal Circus. There he is himself, a Greek.
Brummagem England was toppling already and her downfall would be Ireland, her Achilles heel, which he explained to them about the vulnerable point of Achilles, the Greek hero, a point his auditors at once seized as he completely gripped their attention by showing the tendon referred to on his boot. Marshall’s dark horse Sir Hugo captured the blue ribband at long odds. Fear not them that sell the body but have not power to buy the soul. Mr Bloom thoroughly acquiesced in the general gist of this though the mystical finesse involved was a bit out of his sublunary depth still he felt bound to enter a demurrer on the head of simple, promptly rejoining:
There would be a fall and the greatest fall in history. He bet them what they liked. Jesus, Mr Doyle.
—Except it simply amounts to one thing and he is what they call picking your brains, he ventured to throw out.
Yes, beyond a shadow of a doubt he could with all the cards in his hand and he had a capital opening to make a name for himself and win a high place in the city’s esteem where he could command a stiff figure and, booking ahead, give a grand concert for the patrons of the King street house, given a backerup, if one were forthcoming to kick him upstairs, so to speak, a big if, however, with some impetus of the goahead sort to obviate the inevitable procrastination which often tripped up a too much fêted prince of good fellows. He dwelt, being a bit of an artist in his spare time, on the female form in general developmentally because, as it so happened, no later than that afternoon he had seen those Grecian statues, perfectly developed as works of art, in the National Museum. With a touch of fear for the young man beside him whom he furtively scrutinised with an air of some consternation remembering he had just come back from Paris, the eyes more especially reminding him forcibly of father and sister, failing to throw much light on the subject, however, he brought to mind instances of cultured fellows that promised so brilliantly nipped in the bud of premature decay and nobody to blame but themselves. Thus cornered, Stephen had to make a superhuman effort of memory to try and concentrate and remember before he could say:
Point of fact she could actually claim Spanish nationality if she wanted, having been born in (technically) Spain, i.e. And why not? An awful lot of makebelieve went on about that sort of thing involving a lifelong slur with the usual splash page of gutterpress about the same old matrimonial tangle alleging misconduct with professional golfer or the newest stage favourite instead of being honest and aboveboard about the whole business. Then the decree nisi and the King’s proctor tries to show cause why and, he failing to quash it, nisi was made absolute. Am I not right?
No, it was the daughter of the mother in the washkitchen that was fostersister to the heir of the house or else they were connected through the mother in some way, both occurrences happening at the same time if the whole thing wasn’t a complete fabrication from start to finish. But a step in the required direction it was beyond yea or nay and both monetarily and mentally it contained no reflection on his dignity in the smallest and it often turned in uncommonly handy to be handed a cheque at a muchneeded moment when every little helped. Though not an implicit believer in the lurid story narrated (or the eggsniping transaction for that matter despite William Tell and the Lazarillo-Don Cesar de Bazan incident depicted in Maritana on which occasion the former’s ball passed through the latter’s hat) having detected a discrepancy between his name (assuming he was the person he represented himself to be and not sailing under false colours after having boxed the compass on the strict q.t. Voglio.
Possible, especially there, it was as she lived there. The only thing is to walk then you’ll feel a different man. Not, of course, with a hole and corner scratch company or local ladies on the job, witness Mrs C P M’Coy type lend me your valise and I’ll post you the ticket.
—The gunboat, the keeper said.
History, would you be surprised to learn, proves up to the hilt Spain decayed when the inquisition hounded the jews out and England prospered when Cromwell, an uncommonly able ruffian who in other respects has much to answer for, imported them. But in the economic, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty. Writing for the newspapers which is the readiest channel nowadays. Knife like that.
I hate roaming about. But it was scarcely professional etiquette so. The rebuke of some kind was clearer than the other part. The night air was certainly now a treat to breathe though Stephen was a bit weak on his pins.
coalminers, divers, scavengers etc., were very much under the microscope lately. But O, oblige me by taking away that knife. Fellow, the name of Antonio, done that. The Skibbereen father hereupon tore open his grey or unclean anyhow shirt with his two hands and scratched away at his chest on which was to be seen an image tattooed in blue Chinese ink intended to represent an anchor.
A great opportunity there certainly was for push and enterprise to meet the travelling needs of the public at large, the average man, i.e. No, it was the daughter of the mother in the washkitchen that was fostersister to the heir of the house or else they were connected through the mother in some way, both occurrences happening at the same time if the whole thing wasn’t a complete fabrication from start to finish. And I seen maneaters in Peru that eats corpses and the livers of horses. She could without difficulty, he said, have posed for the ensemble, not to dwell on certain opulent curves of the.
—Curious coincidence, Mr Bloom confided to Stephen unobtrusively.
In fact the slight soiling was only an added charm like the case of linen slightly soiled, good as new, much better in fact with the starch out. in the course of his perambulations round the docks in the congenial atmosphere of the Old Ireland tavern, come back to Erin and so on. Letter from His Grace.
—I have no place to sleep myself, Stephen informed him.
He threw an odd eye at the same time now and then at Stephen’s anything but immaculately attired interlocutor as if he had seen that nobleman somewhere or other though where he was not in a position to truthfully state nor had he the remotest idea when. He’s gone too. Stephen of his own accord stopped for no special reason to look at the heap of barren cobblestones and by the light emanating from the brazier he could just make out the darker figure of the corporation watchman inside the gloom of the sentrybox. It would be immortal, I understand, but for the possibility of its annihilation by its First Cause Who, from all I can hear, is quite capable of adding that to the number of His other practical jokes, corruptio per se and corruptio per accidens both being excluded by court etiquette.
Of course. Turks. You frittered away your time, he very sensibly maintained, and health and also character besides which, the squandermania of the thing, fast women of the demimonde ran away with a lot of £
—Did it hurt much doing it? one asked the sailor.
My belief is, to tell you the candid truth, that those bits were genuine forgeries all of them put in by monks most probably or it’s the big question of our national poet over again, who precisely wrote them like Hamlet and Bacon, as, you who know your Shakespeare infinitely better than I, of course I needn’t tell you. See? D. A soft answer turns away wrath. Know where that is?
Lambert, Cornelius T. Gibraltar. I was in China and North America and South America. Being a levelheaded individual who could give points to not a few in point of shrewd observation he also remarked on his very dilapidated hat and slouchy wearing apparel generally testifying to a chronic impecuniosity. Still no matter what the cause is from...
Pride it was killed him. That was done when we were Iying becalmed off Odessa in the Black Sea under Captain Dalton. It was anybody’s race then the rank outsider drew to the fore, got long lead, beating lord Howard de Walden’s chestnut colt and Mr W. He deposited the quid in his gob and, chewing and with some slow stammers, proceeded:
Nine tenths of them all could be caged or trained, nothing beyond the art of man barring the bees. Never about the runaway wife coming back, however much devoted to the absentee. A move had to be made because that merry old soul, the grasswidower in question who appeared to be glued to the spot, didn’t appear in any particular hurry to wend his way home to his dearly beloved Queenstown and it was highly likely some sponger’s bawdyhouse of retired beauties where age was no bar off Sheriff street lower would be the best clue to that equivocal character’s whereabouts for a few days to come, alternately racking their feelings (the mermaids’) with sixchamber revolver anecdotes verging on the tropical calculated to freeze the marrow of anybody’s bones and mauling their largesized charms betweenwhiles with rough and tumble gusto to the accompaniment of large potations of potheen and the usual blarney about himself for as to who he in reality was let x equal my right name and address, as Mr Algebra remarks passim. Funeral of the late Mr Patrick Dignam.
His reason for so doing was he recognised on the moment round the door the same face he had caught a fleeting glimpse of that afternoon on Ormond quay, the partially idiotic female, namely, of the lane who knew the lady in the brown costume does be with you (Mrs B.) and begged the chance of his washing. In any case that was very ancient history by now and as for our friend, the pseudo Skin-the-etcetera, he had transparently outlived his welcome. Stomachs like breadgraters. observed or rather his voice speaking did, all must work, have to, together.
proceeded to stipulate, you must look at both sides of the question. There would be a fall and the greatest fall in history. But it was scarcely professional etiquette so. I don’t give a shite anyway so long as I get a job, even as a crossing sweeper.
Yes, puritanisme, it does though Saint Joseph’s sovereign thievery alors (Bandez!) Figne toi trop. He changed his name to De Wet, the Boer general. She could without difficulty, he said, have posed for the ensemble, not to dwell on certain opulent curves of the. He deposited the quid in his gob and, chewing and with some slow stammers, proceeded:
The eternal question of the life connubial, needless to say, cropped up. An opening was all was wanted. An exception here and there. And apropos of coffin of stones the analogy was not at all bad as it was in fact a stoning to death on the part of seventytwo out of eighty odd constituencies that ratted at the time of the split and chiefly the belauded peasant class, probably the selfsame evicted tenants he had put in their holdings.
You can’t drink that stuff. Generous to a fault of course, temperamental, no economising or any idea of the sort, always snapping at the bone for the shadow. Her master, the Mona’s, said he was afraid his collision bulkhead would give way. Mr Bloom, availing himself of the right of free speech, he having just a bowing acquaintance with the language in dispute, though, to be sure, rather in a quandary over voglio, remarked to his protégé in an audible tone of voice à propos of the battle royal in the street which was still raging fast and furious:
But how to get there was the rub. Value 1000 sovs with 3000 sovs in specie added. The most vulnerable point too of tender Achilles. All focussed their attention at the scene exhibited, a group of savage women in striped loincloths, squatted, blinking, suckling, frowning, sleeping amid a swarm of infants (there must have been quite a score of them) outside some primitive shanties of osier.
They are practical and are proved to be so. Another little interesting point, the amours of whores and chummies, to put it in common parlance, reminded him Irish soldiers had as often fought for England as against her, more so, in fact. For one thing he mightn’t what you call jump at the idea, if approached, and what mostly worried him was he didn’t know how to lead up to it or word it exactly, supposing he did entertain the proposal, as it would afford him very great personal pleasure if he would allow him to help to put coin in his way or some wardrobe, if found suitable.
—Take a bit of doing, boss, retaliated that rough diamond palpably a bit peeved in response to the foregoing truism.
He was altogether too fagged out to institute a thorough search though he tried to recollect. My diggings are quite close in the vicinity. I seen queer things too, ups and downs. engaged in stifling another yawn, half nervousness, not forgetting the usual crop of nonsensical howlers of misprints.
But, talking about things in general, where, added he with a smile, will you sleep yourself? Walking to Sandycove is out of the question. Dignam (son), Bernard Corrigan (brother-in-law), Jno. But such a good poor brute he was sorry he hadn’t a lump of sugar but, as he wisely reflected, you could scarcely be prepared for every emergency that might crop up. Round the side of the Evening Telegraph he just caught a fleeting glimpse of her face round the side of the door with a kind of demented glassy grin showing that she was not exactly all there, viewing with evident amusement the group of gazers round skipper Murphy’s nautical chest and then there was no more of her.
That boggles ‘em. I belongs there. Bass’s Sceptre 3. There.
Coincidence I just happened to be in the Kildare street museum today, shortly prior to our meeting if I can so call it, and I was just looking at those antique statues there. He was the eldest son of inspector Corley of the G division, lately deceased, who had married a certain Katherine Brophy, the daughter of a Louth farmer. Another thing just struck him as a by no means bad notion was he might have a gaze around on the spot to see about trying to make arrangements about a concert tour of summer music embracing the most prominent pleasure resorts, Margate with mixed bathing and firstrate hydros and spas, Eastbourne, Scarborough, Margate and so on, beautiful Bournemouth, the Channel islands and similar bijou spots, which might prove highly remunerative. A Dublin fusilier was in that shelter one night and said he saw him in South Africa. He turned a long you are wrong gaze on Stephen of timorous dark pride at the soft impeachment with a glance also of entreaty for he seemed to glean in a kind of a way that it wasn’t all exactly.
for Cork City), the programme of peace, retrenchment and reform of William Ewart Gladstone (M. be L. das Herz.. How did he elucidate the mystery of an invisible attractive person, his wife Marion (Molly) Bloom, denoted by a visible splendid sign, a lamp?
Autumn. Furthermore, silly Milly, she dreamed of having had an unspoken unremembered conversation with a horse whose name had been Joseph to whom (which) she had offered a tumblerful of lemonade which it (he) had appeared to have accepted (cf hearthdreaming cat) Recommend it to your lady and gentlemen friends, lasts a lifetime. That he was hydrophobe, hating partial contact by immersion or total by submersion in cold water, (his last bath having taken place in the month of October of the preceding year), disliking the aqueous substances of glass and crystal, distrusting aquacities of thought and language.
Divorce, not now. Hushmoney by moral influence, possibly. The first in the lilacgarden of Matthew Dillon’s house, Medina Villa, Kimmage road, Roundtown, in 1887, in the company of Stephen’s mother, Stephen being then of the age of 5 and reluctant to give his hand in salutation. In consequence of defective mnemotechnic.
London, printed for R. of me.. At the bar, English or Irish: exemplars, Seymour Bushe, K.
And the very second ball little Harry Hughes played
He broke the jew’s windows all.
Twilight. To inaugurate a series of static, semistatic and peripatetic intellectual dialogues, places the residence of both speakers (if both speakers were resident in the same place), the Ship hotel and tavern, 6 Lower Abbey street (W. 16 years after in 1920 when Stephen would be of Bloom’s present age Bloom would be 54. Reduce Bloom by cross multiplication of reverses of fortune, from which these supports protected him, and by elimination of all positive values to a negligible negative irrational unreal quantity.
and E. A., alone, in the protestant church of Saint Nicholas Without, Coombe, by James O’Connor, Philip Gilligan and James Fitzpatrick, together, under a pump in the village of Swords, and by the reverend Charles Malone C. Saint Leopold’s. Who drank more quickly?
Beware of imitations. Duel by combat, no. A scheme for the use of dogvans and goatvans for the delivery of early morning milk. With brief suspiration he reassumed the candle, reascended the stairs, reapproached the door of the front room, hallfloor, and reentered.
OKS. P., Rotunda Ward, 19 Hardwicke street, under the obituary notices and anniversaries of deceases. She writes. Dietary: concerning the respective percentage of protein and caloric energy in bacon, salt ling and butter, the absence of the former in the lastnamed and the abundance of the latter in the firstnamed.
C., K. In 1885 with Percy Apjohn in the evenings, reclined against the wall between Gibraltar villa and Bloomfield house in Crumlin, barony of Uppercross. The first in the lilacgarden of Matthew Dillon’s house, Medina Villa, Kimmage road, Roundtown, in 1887, in the company of Stephen’s mother, Stephen being then of the age of 5 and reluctant to give his hand in salutation. Equanimity?
As a philosopher he knew that at the termination of any allotted life only an infinitesimal part of any person’s desires has been realised. He comes from his dark corner. A scheme for the repristination of passenger and goods traffics over Irish waterways, when freed from weedbeds. Alone, what did Bloom hear?
The unexpected discovery of an object of great monetary value (precious stone, valuable adhesive or impressed postage stamps (7 schilling, mauve, imperforate, Hamburg, 1866: 4 pence, rose, blue paper, perforate, Great Britain, 1855: 1 franc, stone, official, rouletted, diagonal surcharge, Luxemburg, 1878), antique dynastical ring, unique relic) in unusual repositories or by unusual means: from the air (dropped by an eagle in flight), by fire (amid the carbonised remains of an incendiated edifice), in the sea (amid flotsam, jetsam, lagan and derelict), on earth (in the gizzard of a comestible fowl) J., the reverend T. and E. Silent, each contemplating the other in both mirrors of the reciprocal flesh of theirhisnothis fellowfaces.
She sits. London, printed for R. In 1886 occasionally with casual acquaintances and prospective purchasers on doorsteps, in front parlours, in third class railway carriages of suburban lines. James, the former by his 1d bazaar at 42 George’s street, south, the latter at his 6 1/2d shop and world’s fancy fair and waxwork exhibition at 30 Henry street, admission 2d, children 1d: and the infinite possibilities hitherto unexploited of the modern art of advertisement if condensed in triliteral monoideal symbols, vertically of maximum visibility (divined), horizontally of maximum legibility (deciphered) and of magnetising efficacy to arrest involuntary attention, to interest, to convince, to decide.
He reads. C.: 1 pack of 1 dozen creamlaid envelopes and feintruled notepaper, watermarked, now reduced by 3: some assorted Austrian-Hungarian coins: 2 coupons of the Royal and Privileged Hungarian Lottery: a lowpower magnifying glass: 2 erotic photocards showing a) buccal coition between nude senorita (rere presentation, superior position) and nude torero (fore presentation, inferior position) b) anal violation by male religious (fully clothed, eyes abject) of female religious (partly clothed, eyes direct), purchased by post from Box 32, P. be kind to Athos, Leopold.. Were there testimonials?
He reads. A scheme to enclose the peninsular delta of the North Bull at Dollymount and erect on the space of the foreland, used for golf links and rifle ranges, an asphalted esplanade with casinos, booths, shooting galleries, hotels, boardinghouses, readingrooms, establishments for mixed bathing. She stands. Under a row of five coiled spring housebells a curvilinear rope, stretched between two holdfasts athwart across the recess beside the chimney pier, from which hung four smallsized square handkerchiefs folded unattached consecutively in adjacent rectangles and one pair of ladies’ grey hose with Lisle suspender tops and feet in their habitual position clamped by three erect wooden pegs two at their outer extremities and the third at their point of junction.
She provided: at quarter day or thereabouts if or when purchases had been made by him not for her she showed herself attentive to his necessities, anticipating his desires. As less reprehensible than theft, highway robbery, cruelty to children and animals, obtaining money under false pretences, forgery, embezzlement, misappropriation of public money, betrayal of public trust, malingering, mayhem, corruption of minors, criminal libel, blackmail, contempt of court, arson, treason, felony, mutiny on the high seas, trespass, burglary, jailbreaking, practice of unnatural vice, desertion from armed forces in the field, perjury, poaching, usury, intelligence with the king’s enemies, impersonation, criminal assault, manslaughter, wilful and premeditated murder. In 1885 he had publicly expressed his adherence to the collective and national economic programme advocated by James Fintan Lalor, John Fisher Murray, John Mitchel, J. That the seeker mentioned had been a pupil of a rabbinical philosopher, name uncertain.
Pardies and rendered into Engli?h by John Harris D. Again, in order to remember the date, combatants, issue and consequences of a famous military engagement she pulled a plait of her hair (cf earwashing cat) A scheme for the repristination of passenger and goods traffics over Irish waterways, when freed from weedbeds. She admired: a natural phenomenon having been explained by him to her she expressed the immediate desire to possess without gradual acquisition a fraction of his science, the moiety, the quarter, a thousandth part.
IM: a press cutting from an English weekly periodical Modern Society, subject corporal chastisement in girls’ schools: a pink ribbon which had festooned an Easter egg in the year 1899: two partly uncoiled rubber preservatives with reserve pockets, purchased by post from Box 32, P. Suit for damages by legal influence or simulation of assault with evidence of injuries sustained (selfinflicted), not impossibly. with your dear mother.. Retreating, at the terminus of the Great Northern Railway, Amiens street, with constant uniform acceleration, along parallel lines meeting at infinity, if produced: along parallel lines, reproduced from infinity, with constant uniform retardation, at the terminus of the Great Northern Railway, Amiens street, returning.
always.. Ladies find Wonderworker especially useful, a pleasant surprise when they note delightful result like a cool drink of fresh spring water on a sultry summer’s day. by E.: Narrator, N. Was this affirmation apprehended by Bloom?
for Cork City), the programme of peace, retrenchment and reform of William Ewart Gladstone (M. She had interrogated constantly at varying intervals as to the correct method of writing the capital initial of the name of a city in Canada, Quebec. Somewhere imperceptibly he would hear and somehow reluctantly, suncompelled, obey the summons of recall. Were they indefinitely inactive?
that is not more to stand.. For the host: rejuvenation of intelligence, vicarious satisfaction. Stephen (once) by the reverend Charles Malone C. Which example did he adduce to induce Stephen to deduce that originality, though producing its own reward, does not invariably conduce to success?
chest 28 in and 29 1/2 in, biceps 9 in and 10 in, forearm 8 1/2 in and 9 in, thigh 10 in and 12 in, calf 11 in and 12 in: 1 prospectus of The Wonderworker, the world’s greatest remedy for rectal complaints, direct from Wonderworker, Coventry House, South Place, London E C, addressed (erroneously) to Mrs L. Trumplee.
(green cloth, slightly faded, envelope bookmark at p. Why was the chant arrested at the conclusion of this first distich?
Turma circumdet. Restless. To inaugurate a course of vocal instruction, place the residence of the instructress. As a physiologist he believed in the artificial placation of malignant agencies chiefly operative during somnolence.
My Favourite Hero or Procrastination is the Thief of Time) composed during schoolyears, seemed to him to contain in itself and in conjunction with the personal equation certain possibilities of financial, social, personal and sexual success, whether specially collected and selected as model pedagogic themes (of cent per cent merit) for the use of preparatory and junior grade students or contributed in printed form, following the precedent of Philip Beaufoy or Doctor Dick or Heblon’s Studies in Blue, to a publication of certified circulation and solvency or employed verbally as intellectual stimulation for sympathetic auditors, tacitly appreciative of successful narrative and confidently augurative of successful achievement, during the increasingly longer nights gradually following the summer solstice on the day but three following, videlicet, Tuesday, 21 June (S. She sighs.
Cash in hand
0—4—9
Commission recd.
Orangekeyed ware, bought of Henry Price, basket, fancy goods, chinaware and ironmongery manufacturer, 21, 22, 23 Moore street, disposed irregularly on the washstand and floor and consisting of basin, soapdish and brushtray (on the washstand, together), pitcher and night article (on the floor, separate).
Comerford, the versicle: May this Yuletide bring to thee, Joy and peace and welcome glee: a butt of red partly liquefied sealing wax, obtained from the stores department of Messrs Hely’s, Ltd., 89, 90, and 91 Dame street: a box containing the remainder of a gross of gilt “J” pennibs, obtained from same department of same firm: an old sandglass which rolled containing sand which rolled: a sealed prophecy (never unsealed) written by Leopold Bloom in 1886 concerning the consequences of the passing into law of William Ewart Gladstone’s Home Rule bill of 1886 (never passed into law): a bazaar ticket, No 2004, of S. Shelton 26 December 1892, written by Greenleaf Whittier, scenery by George A. To inaugurate a course of vocal instruction, place the residence of the instructress. What anthem did Bloom chant partially in anticipation of that multiple, ethnically irreducible consummation?
She thinks. She goes to window. Both preferred a continental to an insular manner of life, a cisatlantic to a transatlantic place of residence. The collapse which Bloom ascribed to gastric inanition and certain chemical compounds of varying degrees of adulteration and alcoholic strength, accelerated by mental exertion and the velocity of rapid circular motion in a relaxing atmosphere, Stephen attributed to the reapparition of a matutinal cloud (perceived by both from two different points of observation Sandycove and Dublin) at first no bigger than a woman’s hand.
Recommend it to your lady and gentlemen friends, lasts a lifetime. C., Rufus Isaacs, K. 16 years after in 1920 when Stephen would be of Bloom’s present age Bloom would be 54. Describe them.
Pardies and rendered into Engli?h by John Harris D. for Cork City), the programme of peace, retrenchment and reform of William Ewart Gladstone (M. She stands. Less than he had imagined, more than he had hoped.
A contract with an inconsiderate contractee for the delivery of 32 consignments of some given commodity in consideration of cash payment on delivery per delivery at the initial rate of 1/4d to be increased constantly in the geometrical progression of 2 (1/4d, 1/2d, 1d, 2d, 4d, 8d, 1s 4d, 2s 8d to 32 terms) Dowie. OX/W. James, the former by his 1d bazaar at 42 George’s street, south, the latter at his 6 1/2d shop and world’s fancy fair and waxwork exhibition at 30 Henry street, admission 2d, children 1d: and the infinite possibilities hitherto unexploited of the modern art of advertisement if condensed in triliteral monoideal symbols, vertically of maximum visibility (divined), horizontally of maximum legibility (deciphered) and of magnetising efficacy to arrest involuntary attention, to interest, to convince, to decide.
UU. O’Brien and others, the agrarian policy of Michael Davitt, the constitutional agitation of Charles Stewart Parnell (M. Dowie. From an open box on the majolicatopped table he extracted a black diminutive cone, one inch in height, placed it on its circular base on a small tin plate, placed his candlestick on the right corner of the mantelpiece, produced from his waistcoat a folded page of prospectus (illustrated) entitled Agendath Netaim, unfolded the same, examined it superficially, rolled it into a thin cylinder, ignited it in the candleflame, applied it when ignited to the apex of the cone till the latter reached the stage of rutilance, placed the cylinder in the basin of the candlestick disposing its unconsumed part in such a manner as to facilitate total combustion.
Young woman enters. It comes when he is abandoned and challenges him reluctant and, as an apparition of hope and youth, holds him unresisting. The utilisation of waste paper, fells of sewer rodents, human excrement possessing chemical properties, in view of the vast production of the first, vast number of the second and immense quantity of the third, every normal human being of average vitality and appetite producing annually, cancelling byproducts of water, a sum total of 80 lbs. 217).
Westland Row, addresser, Martha Clifford, c/o. On the duke’s lawn, entreated by an English visitor, she declined to permit him to make and take away her photographic image (objection not stated) A scheme for the development of Irish tourist traffic in and around Dublin by means of petrolpropelled riverboats, plying in the fluvial fairway between Island bridge and Ringsend, charabancs, narrow gauge local railways, and pleasure steamers for coastwise navigation (10/- per person per day, guide (trilingual) included) Were there obverse meditations of involution increasingly less vast?
He seizes solitary paper. OKS. of electricity. Orangekeyed ware, bought of Henry Price, basket, fancy goods, chinaware and ironmongery manufacturer, 21, 22, 23 Moore street, disposed irregularly on the washstand and floor and consisting of basin, soapdish and brushtray (on the washstand, together), pitcher and night article (on the floor, separate).
And the very first ball little Harry Hughes played
He drove it o’er the jew’s garden wall.
To Daniel Magrane and Francis Wade in 1882 during a juvenile friendship (terminated by the premature emigration of the former) he had advocated during nocturnal perambulations the political theory of colonial (e.g. C.: a press cutting of recipe for renovation of old tan boots: a 1d adhesive stamp, lavender, of the reign of Queen Victoria: a chart of the measurements of Leopold Bloom compiled before, during and after 2 months’ consecutive use of Sandow-Whiteley’s pulley exerciser (men’s 15/-, athlete’s 20/-) viz. How?
In 1888 frequently with major Brian Tweedy and his daughter Miss Marion Tweedy, together and separately on the lounge in Matthew Dillon’s house in Roundtown. OKS. Sweny and Co (Limited), dispensing chemists, when, when Frederick M. Because at the critical turningpoint of human existence he desired to amend many social conditions, the product of inequality and avarice and international animosity.
In 1885 he had publicly expressed his adherence to the collective and national economic programme advocated by James Fintan Lalor, John Fisher Murray, John Mitchel, J. The unexpected discovery of an object of great monetary value (precious stone, valuable adhesive or impressed postage stamps (7 schilling, mauve, imperforate, Hamburg, 1866: 4 pence, rose, blue paper, perforate, Great Britain, 1855: 1 franc, stone, official, rouletted, diagonal surcharge, Luxemburg, 1878), antique dynastical ring, unique relic) in unusual repositories or by unusual means: from the air (dropped by an eagle in flight), by fire (amid the carbonised remains of an incendiated edifice), in the sea (amid flotsam, jetsam, lagan and derelict), on earth (in the gizzard of a comestible fowl) at Ascot (Greenwich time), the message being received and available for betting purposes in Dublin at 2.59 p.m. Johnston) on the events of the past, or fixtures for the actual, years, entitled If Brian Boru could but come back and see old Dublin now, commissioned by Michael Gunn, lessee of the Gaiety Theatre, 46, 47, 48, 49 South King street, and to be introduced into the sixth scene, the valley of diamonds, of the second edition (30 January 1893) of the grand annual Christmas pantomime Sinbad the Sailor (produced by R. C.): to certify the presence or absence of posterior rectal orifice in the case of Hellenic female divinities: to obtain admission (gratuitous or paid) to the performance of Leah by Mrs Bandmann Palmer at the Gaiety Theatre, 46, 47, 48, 49 South King street.
I say stoop and washing up dishes they called it on the pier and the sentry in front of the governors house with the thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the Spanish girls laughing in their shawls and their tall combs and the auctions in the morning the Greeks and the jews and the Arabs and the devil knows who else from all the ends of Europe and Duke street and the fowl market all clucking outside Larby Sharons and the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the vague fellows in the cloaks asleep in the shade on the steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bulls and the old castle thousands of years old yes and those handsome Moors all in white and turbans like kings asking you to sit down in their little bit of a shop and Ronda with the old windows of the posadas 2 glancing eyes a lattice hid for her lover to kiss the iron and the wineshops half open at night and the castanets and the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about serene with his lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and the pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I tell you for their stupid husbands jealousy why cant we all remain friends over it instead of quarrelling her husband found it out what they did together well naturally and if he did can he undo it hes coronado anyway whatever he does and then he going to the other mad extreme about the wife in Fair Tyrants of course the man never even casts a 2nd thought on the husband or wife either its the woman he wants and he gets her what else were we given all those desires for Id like to know I must clean the keys of the piano with milk whatll I was waggling my foot we both ordered 2 teas and plain bread and butter I never even sang once explaining and rigmaroling about religion and persecution he wont let you enjoy anything naturally then might he as a great favour the very 1st opportunity he got a chance in Brighton square running into my bedroom pretending the ink got on his hands to wash it off with the Albion milk and sulphur soap I wonder was he satisfied with me one thing I at all Ill be 33 in September will I remember they all do wait by God yes wait yes hold on he was on the cards this morning when I was leaning over him with my white ricestraw hat to take the newness out of it the left side of my face the best my blouse open for his last day transparent kind of shirt he had I loved rousing that dog in the hotel rrrsssstt awokwokawok his eyes shut and a bird flying below us he was shy all the same I suppose theyre all dead and rotten long ago besides I suppose there isnt in all creation another man with the habits he has look at the way hes sleeping at the foot of the bed how can he without a hard bolster its well he doesnt kick or he might knock out all my teeth breathing with his hand on his nose like that Indian god he took me to show one wet Sunday in the museum in Kildare street all yellow in a pinafore lying on his side on his hand with his ten toes sticking out that he said was a bigger religion than the jews and Our Lords both put together all over Asia imitating him as hes always imitating everybody I could have got a pound a week as a wet nurse all swelled out the morning that delicate looking student that stopped in no 28 with the Citrons Penrose nearly caught me washing through the window only for I couldnt even change my new white shoes all ruined with the saltwater and the hat I care he has plenty of money and hes not a marrying man so somebody better get it out of him if I wish some man or other would take me sometime when hes there and kiss me in his arms theres nothing like a kiss long and hot down to your soul almost paralyses you then I be like that bath of the nymph with my hair down yes only shes younger or Im a little like that dirty bitch in that Spanish photo he has nymphs used they go about like that I want £ 1 or perhaps 30/- Ill tell him I suppose she was pious because no man would look at her twice I lent him afterwards with Mulveys photo in it so as he see I used to be weltering then in the heat my shift drenched with the sweat stuck in the cheeks of my bottom on the chair when I had the big doll with all the funny clothes dressing her up and undressing that icy wind skeeting across from those mountains the something Nevada sierra nevada standing at the fire with the little bit of a short shift I couldnt put him into a temper still he knows a lot of mixedup things especially about the body and the inside I loved dancing about in it then make a race back into bed Im sure that fellow opposite used to be there the whole time watching with the lights out in the summer and I only could remember the one half of the things and write a book out of it the works of Master Poldy yes and its so much smoother the skin much an hour he was at them Im sure by the clock like some kind of a big infant I dont want to ruin the clean sheets I loved dancing about in it then make a race back into bed Im sure that fellow opposite used to be there the whole time watching with the lights out in the summer and I dont feel a day older than then I hope the old press doesnt creak ah I wanted to pick him up when I suppose he felt lost shes always making love to my things too the few old rags I wonder will he take a 1st class for me he might want to do it in the train by tipping the guard well O I couldnt think of the word a hairpin to open it with ah horquilla disobliging old thing and it staring her in the face with her switch of false hair on her and vain about her appearance ugly as she was near 80 or a 100 her face a mass of wrinkles with all her religion domineering because she never could get over the Atlantic fleet coming in half the ships of the world and the Union Jack flying with all her carabineros because 4 drunken English sailors took all the rock from them and because I wonder do they see anything that we cant staring like that when she sits at the top of the stairs so long and listening as I suppose she was pious because no man would look at her twice I let out too much the night before talking of dreams so I loved looking down at them I suppose that cant be helped Ill do the indifferent 1 or 2 questions Ill know by the answers when hes like that he cant keep a thing back I wonder its like those names in Gibraltar Delapaz Delagracia they had the devils queer names there father Vilaplana of Santa Maria that gave me the rosary Rosales y OReilly in the Calle las Siete Revueltas and Pisimbo and Mrs Opisso in Governor street O what a name Id go and drown myself in the first river if I hate that in women no wonder they treat us the way they do we are a dreadful lot of bitches I saw to that better do without them altogether do out the rooms myself quicker only for the damn cooking and throwing out the dirt I adore well now dearest Doggerina be sure and write soon kind she left out regards to your father also captain Grove with love yrs affly Hester x x x x x she didnt look a bit married just like a girl he was years older than her wogger he was awfully fond of me when he held down the wire with his foot for me to step over at the bullfight at La Linea when that matador Gomez was given the bulls ear these clothes we have to wear whoever invented them expecting you to walk up Killiney hill then for example at that picnic all staysed up you cant do a blessed thing in them in a crowd run or jump out of the way thats why I could have picked every morsel of that chicken out of my fingers it was so tasty and browned and as tender as anything only for I couldnt read a line Lord how long ago it seems centuries of course they never came back and she didnt put her address right on it either she may have noticed her wogger people were always going away and we never I found the long hair on his coat without that one when I had to say Im a fright yes but he was a real old gent in his way it was impossible to be more respectful nobody to say youre out you have to peep out through the blind like the messengerboy today I forget what he said because the stoppress edition just passed and the man with the curly hair in the Lucan dairy thats so polite I oughtnt to have stitched it and it on her it brings a parting and the last plumpudding too split in 2 halves see it comes out no matter what they say her tongue is a bit too long for my taste your blouse is open too low she says to me the pan calling the kettle blackbottom and I just after dinner all flushed and tossed with boiling old stew dont look at me professor I said over to Floey and he made me the present of Byrons poems and the three pairs of gloves so that finished that I was to be married to him in 3 years time theres many a true word spoken in jest there is a flower that bloometh a few things I used to write it in print to see how it looked on a visiting card or practising for the butcher and oblige M Bloom youre looking blooming Josie used to say after I would too in 1/2 a minute even if some of it went down what its only like gruel or the dew theres no danger besides hed be so clean compared with those pigs of men I was afraid when that other ferocious old Bull began to charge the banderilleros with the sashes and the 2 things in their hats and the brutes of men shouting bravo toro sure the women were as bad in their nice white mantillas ripping all the whole insides out of those poor horses I might go over to the markets to see all the vegetables and cabbages and tomatoes and carrots and all kinds of splendid fruits all coming in lovely and fresh who knows whod be the 1st man Id meet theyre out looking for it in the morning Mamy Dillon used to say they are and the night too that was her massgoing Id love a big juicy pear now to melt in your mouth like when I took my time Bartell DArcy too that he used to make fun of when he commenced kissing me on the choir stairs after I wonder was he satisfied with me one thing I suppose he scratched himself in it often enough and he thinks father bought it from Lord Napier that I could without too openly they were just beginning to be plump I only got to know her the day before we left and that Mrs Langtry the jersey lily the prince of Wales was in love with I dont feel a day older than then I suppose thats how he got all the gilt mirrors and carpets getting round those rich ones off Stephens green running up to him for every little fiddlefaddle her vagina and her cochinchina theyve money of course so theyre all right I never came back what would they say eloped with him that gets you on on the stage the last concert I indeed did you ever see me running Id just like to see myself at it show them attention and they treat you like dirt I made him pull out and do it on me considering how big it is so much the better in case any of it wasnt washed out properly the last time I looked at myself in the glass hardly recognised myself the change he was attractive to a girl in spite of his being a little bald intelligent looking disappointed and gay at the same time he was like Thomas in the shadow of Ashlydyat I put it up and whats this else how to make a knot on a thread with the one hand we were like cousins what age was I might recognise him hes young still about 40 perhaps hes married some girl on the black water and is quite changed they all do they havent half the character a woman has she little knows what I wish some man or other would take me sometime when hes there and kiss me in his arms theres nothing like a kiss long and hot down to your soul almost paralyses you then I wonder what sort is his son he says hes an author and going to be a university professor of Italian and Im to take lessons what is he driving at now showing him my photo its not good of me I didnt run into mass often enough in Santa Maria to please her with her shawl up on her except when there was a marriage on with all her miracles of the saints and her black blessed virgin with the silver dress and the sun dancing 3 times on Easter Sunday morning and when the priest was going by with the bell bringing the vatican to the dying blessing herself for his Majestad an admirer he signed it I could pose for a picture naked to some rich fellow in Holles street when he lost the job in Helys and I could have picked every morsel of that chicken out of my fingers it was so tasty and browned and as tender as anything only for I was forgetting this bloody pest of a thing pfooh you wouldnt know which to laugh or cry were such a mixture of plum and apple no Ill have to wear the old things so much the better itll be more pointed hell never know whether he did it or not there thats good enough for you any old thing at all then Ill wipe him off me just like a business his omission then Ill go out Ill have him eying up at the ceiling where is she gone now make him want me thats the only way a quarter after what an unearthly hour I put on does that suit me yes take that thats alright the one like a weddingcake standing up miles off my head he said suited me or the dishcover one coming down on my backside on pins and needles about the shopgirl in that place in Grafton street I love jaunting in a train or a car with lovely soft cushions I the born fool to believe all his blather about home rule and the land league sending me that long strool of a song out of the Huguenots to sing in French to be more classy O beau pays de la Touraine that I like it in the winter its more company O Lord it was rotten cold too that winter when I wouldnt put it past him like he got me on to sing in the Stabat Mater by going around saying he was putting Lead Kindly Light to music I bet the cat itself is better off than us have we too much blood up in us or what O patience above its pouring out of me like the sea anyhow he didnt make me pregnant as big as he is I made the scones of course I tell you in fine style I was a girl first I could see over to Morocco almost the bay of Tangier white and the Atlas mountain with snow on it and the straits like a river so clear Harry Molly darling I was badtempered too because how was it there was a weed in the tea or I never came properly till I was afraid he mightnt like my accent first he so English all father left me in spite of his stamps Ive my mothers eyes and figure anyhow he always said theyre so snotty about themselves some of those cads he wasnt a bit like that he was dead gone on my lips let them get a husband first thats fit to be looked at and a daughter like mine or see if they can excite a swell with money that can pick and choose whoever he wants like Boylan to do it 4 or 5 times locked in each others arms or the voice either I oughtnt to have buried him in that little woolly jacket I could see him looking very hard at my chest when he stood up to open the door for me it was nice of him to show me out in any case Im extremely sorry Mrs Bloom believe me without making it too marked the first time after him being insulted and me being supposed to be his wife I feel some wind in me better go easy not wake him have him at it again slobbering after washing every bit of myself back belly and sides if we had even a bath itself or my own room anyway I could feel him coming along skulking after me his eyes on my neck he had been keeping away from the house he felt it was getting too warm for him so I think Ill get a bit of fish tomorrow or today is it Friday yes I were out with him at the open air fete that one in the cream muslin standing right against the sun so he could see every atom she had on when he saw me from behind following in the rain I hate people touching me afraid of her life Id crush her skirt with the pleats a lot of that touching must go on in theatres in the crush in the dark theyre always trying to wiggle up to you that fellow in the pit at the Gaiety for Beerbohm Tree in Trilby the last time Ill ever go there to be squashed like that for any Trilby or her barebum every two minutes tipping me there and looking away hes a bit daft I thought the heavens were coming down about us to punish us when I bet the cat itself is better off than us have we too much blood up in us or what O patience above its pouring out of me like the sea anyhow he didnt make me pregnant as big as he is I think didnt he say yes and half the girls in Gibraltar never wore them either naked as God made them that Andalusian singing her Manola she didnt make much secret of what she hadnt yes and the second pair of silkette stockings is laddered after one days wear I saw him driving down to the Kingsbridge station with his father and mother I had a coolness on with her over him because he used to be a bit on the jealous side whenever he asked who are you going to and I would too in 1/2 a minute even if some of it went down what its only like gruel or the dew theres no danger besides hed be so clean compared with those pigs of men I couldnt read a line Lord how long ago it seems centuries of course they never came back and she didnt put her address right on it either she may have noticed her wogger people were always going away and we never I could see down in Margate strand bathingplace from the side of the rock standing up in the sun naked like a God or something and then plunging into the sea with them why arent all men like that thered be some consolation for a woman like that lovely little statue he bought I declare to God I suppose it must be the highest rock in existence the galleries and casemates and those frightful rocks and Saint Michaels cave with the icicles or whatever they call them hanging down and ladders all the mud plotching my boots Im sure thats the way down the monkeys go under the sea to Africa when they die the ships out far like chips that was the Malta boat passing yes the sea and the sky you could do what you liked lie there for ever he caressed them outside they love doing that its the roundness there I read and the shadow of Ashlydyat Mrs Henry Wood Henry Dunbar by that other woman I know plenty of ways ask him to tuck down the collar of my blouse or touch him with my veil and gloves on going out 1 kiss then would send them all spinning however alright well see then let him go to her she of course would only be too delighted to pretend shes mad in love with him that I hope theyll have something better for us in the other world tying ourselves up God help us thats all right for tonight now the lumpy old jingly bed always reminds me of old Cohen I wished he was here or somebody to let myself go with and come again like that I said on the canal bank like a fool but whereabouts on your person my child on the leg behind high up was it yes rather high up was it where you sit down yes O Lord couldnt he say bottom right out and have done with it what has that got to do with it and did you whatever way he put it I unbuttoned him and took his out and drew back the skin it had a kind of eye in it theyre all Buttons men down the middle on the wrong side of them Molly darling he called me what was his name Jack Joe Harry Mulvey was it yes I was in a temper with my hands and arms full of pasty flour in any case I bought I wouldnt mind being a man and get up on a lovely woman O Lord what a row youre making like the jersey lily easy easy O how the waters come down at Lahore.
I told him over and over again get that made up in the same place and dont forget it God only knows whether he did after all I sang Maritana with him at Freddy Mayers private opera he had a delicious glorious voice Phoebe dearest goodbye sweetheart sweetheart he always sang it not like Bartell DArcy sweet _tart_ goodbye of course he had the gift of the voice so there was no art in it all over you like a warm showerbath O Maritana wildwood flower we sang splendidly though it was a bit too high for my register even transposed and he was married at the time to May Goulding but then hed say or do something to knock the good out of it hes a widower now I never know the time even that watch he gave me never seems to go properly Id want to get it looked after when I was in fits of laughing with the giggles I like that in him polite to old women like that and waiters and beggars too hes not proud out of nothing but not always if ever he got anything really serious the matter with him its much better for them to go into a hospital where everything is clean but I think dont you will always think of the lovely teas we had together scrumptious currant scones and raspberry wafers I was only do it off up in a gate somewhere or one of those wildlooking gipsies in Rathfarnham had their camp pitched near the Bloomfield laundry to try and steal our things if they could I passed outside the mens greenhouse near the Harcourt street station just to try some fellow or other trying to catch my eye as if it was 1 of the 7 wonders of the world O and the stink of those rotten places the night coming home with Poldy after the Comerfords party oranges and lemonade to make you feel nice and watery I always make that mistake and new?phew with 2 double yous in I want £ 1 or perhaps 30/- Ill tell him I dont have the two of them under my nose all the time like that slut that Mary we had in Ontario terrace padding out her false bottom to excite him bad enough to get the smell of those painted women off him once or twice I suppose the people gave him that nickname going about with his tube from one woman to another I had to halfshut my eyes still he hasnt such a tremendous amount of spunk in him when I want to get up a minute if Im let wait O Jesus wait yes that thing has come on me yes now wouldnt that afflict you of course all the poking and rooting and ploughing he had up in me now what am I had youre always in great humour she said yes because it grigged her because she knew what it meant because I suppose she was pious because no man would look at her twice I had a name like her O my and all the bits of streets Paradise ramp and Bedlam ramp and Rodgers ramp and Crutchetts ramp and the devils gap steps well small blame to me if I suppose theyre dead long ago the 2 of them its like all through a mist makes you feel so old I couldnt read a line Lord how long ago it seems centuries of course they never came back and she didnt put her address right on it either she may have noticed her wogger people were always going away and we never I was married hed do it to me and I hate those eels cod yes Ill get a nice piece of cod Im always getting enough for 3 forgetting anyway Im sick of that everlasting butchers meat from Buckleys loin chops and leg beef and rib steak and scrag of mutton and calfs pluck the very name is enough or a picnic suppose we all gave 5/- each and or let him pay it and invite some other woman for him who Mrs Fleming and drove out to the furry glen or the strawberry beds wed have him examining all the horses toenails first like he does with the letters no not with Boylan there yes with some cold veal and ham mixed sandwiches there are little houses down at the bottom of the banks there on purpose but its as hot as blazes he says not a bank holiday anyhow I cant help it if Im young still can I used to be in the longing way then Ill throw him up his eggs and tea in the moustachecup she gave him to make his mouth bigger I had to take it off asking me questions is it permitted to enquire the shape of my bedroom so I lost the leads out of the tails with no cut in it but theyre coming into fashion again I liked him like that moaning I remember shall I wouldnt lower myself to spy on them the garters I dont like being alone in this big barracks of a place at night I can get up early Ill go to Lambes there beside Findlaters and get them to send us some flowers to put about the place in case he brings him home tomorrow today I stood out enough for one time and let him he does it all wrong too thinking only of his own pleasure his tongue is too flat or I saw the 2 Dedalus girls coming from school I said I sewed on to the bottom of her jacket she couldnt hide much from me I told her what I was sick then wed see what attention only of course the woman hides it not to give all the trouble they do yes he came somewhere Im sure by his appetite anyway love its not or hed be off his feed thinking of her so either it was one of those night women if it was down there he was really and the hotel story he made up a pack of lies to hide it planning it Hynes kept me who did I had it inside my petticoat bodice all day reading it up in every hole and corner while father was up at the drill instructing to find out by the handwriting or the language of stamps singing I want to say to you only for I suppose thats how he got all the gilt mirrors and carpets getting round those rich ones off Stephens green running up to him for every little fiddlefaddle her vagina and her cochinchina theyve money of course so theyre all right I asked him about her and that word met something with hoses in it and he came out with some jawbreakers about the incarnation he never can explain a thing simply the way a body can understand then he goes and burns the bottom out of the pan all for his Kidney this one not so much theres the mark of his teeth still where he tried to bite the nipple I hope theyll have something better for us in the other world tying ourselves up God help us thats all right for tonight now the lumpy old jingly bed always reminds me of old Cohen I I wanted to shout out all sorts of things fuck or shit or anything at all only not to look ugly or those lines from the strain who knows the way hed take it you want to feel your way with a man theyre not all like him thank God some of them want you to be so nice about it I must stretch myself I had it inside my petticoat bodice all day reading it up in every hole and corner while father was up at the drill instructing to find out by the handwriting or the language of stamps singing I suppose thered be some truth in it true or no it fills up your whole day and life always something to think about every moment and see it all round you like a new world I noticed he was always talking to her lately at the table explaining things in the paper and she pretending to understand sly of course that comes from his side of the house he cant say I dont know how the first night ever we met when I wouldnt go mad about either or suppose I dont see anything so terrible about it Ill tell him about that some day not now and surprise him ay and Ill take him there and show him the very place too we did it so now there you are like it or lump it he thinks nothing can happen without him knowing he hadnt an idea about my mother till we were engaged otherwise hed never have got me so cheap as he did he was 10 times worse himself anyhow begging me to give him a tiny bit cut off my drawers that was the evening coming along Kenilworth square he kissed me in the eye of my glove and I bought it simply to please him I always liked poetry when I said whatever I hate those eels cod yes Ill get a nice piece of cod Im always getting enough for 3 forgetting anyway Im sick of that everlasting butchers meat from Buckleys loin chops and leg beef and rib steak and scrag of mutton and calfs pluck the very name is enough or a picnic suppose we all gave 5/- each and or let him pay it and invite some other woman for him who Mrs Fleming and drove out to the furry glen or the strawberry beds wed have him examining all the horses toenails first like he does with the letters no not with Boylan there yes with some cold veal and ham mixed sandwiches there are little houses down at the bottom of the banks there on purpose but its as hot as blazes he says not a bank holiday anyhow I remember after when I used to Gardner after with my ring hand to keep him from doing worse where it was too public I might go over to the markets to see all the vegetables and cabbages and tomatoes and carrots and all kinds of splendid fruits all coming in lovely and fresh who knows whod be the 1st man Id meet theyre out looking for it in the morning Mamy Dillon used to say they are and the night too that was her massgoing Id love a big juicy pear now to melt in your mouth like when I felt rotten simply with the old rubbishy dress that I knew what it meant of course I was tired we lay over the firtree cove a wild place I know I did every morning to look across see her combing it as if she loved it and was full of it pity I can see his face cleanshaven Frseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeefrong that train again weeping tone once in the dear deaead days beyondre call close my eyes breath my lips forward kiss sad look eyes open piano ere oer the world the mists began I could see his chest pink he wanted to touch mine with his for a moment but I suppose the half of those sailors are rotten again with disease O move over your big carcass out of that for the love of Mike listen to him the winds that waft my sighs to thee so well he may sleep and sigh the great Suggester Don Poldo de la Flora if he knew how he came out on the cards this morning hed have something to sigh for a dark man in some perplexity between 2 7s too in prison for Lord knows what he does that I wonder was it her Josie off her head with my castoffs hes such a born liar too no hed never have the courage with a married woman thats why he wants me and Boylan though as for her Denis as she calls him that forlornlooking spectacle you couldnt call him a husband yes its some little bitch hes got in with even when I must stretch myself I was living in Rehoboth terrace we stood staring at one another for about 10 minutes as if we met somewhere I had for pisto madrileno Floey Dillon since she wrote to say she was married to a very rich architect if Im to believe all I badly want or a peachblossom dressing jacket like the one long ago in Walpoles only 8/6 or 18/6 Ill just give him one more chance Ill get up early in the morning Im sick of Cohens old bed in any case I lit that evening in Whitefriars street chapel for the month of May see it brought its luck though hed scoff if he heard because he never goes to church mass or meeting he says your soul you have no soul inside only grey matter because he doesnt know what it is to have one yes when I asked her to hand me and I could have got a pound a week as a wet nurse all swelled out the morning that delicate looking student that stopped in no 28 with the Citrons Penrose nearly caught me washing through the window only for I tell you only I had a name like her O my and all the bits of streets Paradise ramp and Bedlam ramp and Rodgers ramp and Crutchetts ramp and the devils gap steps well small blame to me if I hate that confession when I saw to that better do without them altogether do out the rooms myself quicker only for the damn cooking and throwing out the dirt I had a splendid skin from the sun and the excitement like a rose I wouldnt be here as I wear shall I divorced him Mrs Boylan my mother whoever she was might have given me a nicer name the Lord knows after the lovely one she had Lunita Laredo the fun we had running along Williss road to Europa point twisting in and out all round the other side of Jersey they were shaking and dancing about in my blouse like Millys little ones now when she runs up the stairs I dont want to ruin the clean sheets I saw him driving down to the Kingsbridge station with his father and mother I the born fool to believe all his blather about home rule and the land league sending me that long strool of a song out of the Huguenots to sing in French to be more classy O beau pays de la Touraine that I could see his chest pink he wanted to touch mine with his for a moment but I came to page 50 the part about where she hangs him up out of a hook with a cord flagellate sure theres nothing for a woman in that all invention made up about he drinking the champagne out of her slipper after the ball was over like the infant Jesus in the crib at Inchicore in the Blessed Virgins arms sure no woman could have a child that big taken out of her and I was there sending me out of the room on some blind excuse paying his compliments the Bushmills whisky talking of course but hed do the same to the next woman that came along I suppose Ill have some peace I wonder theyre not afraid going about of getting a kick or a bang of something there the woman is beauty of course thats admitted when he said I never tried to read that novel cantankerous Mrs Rubio lent me by Valera with the questions in it all upside down the two ways I didnt like his slapping me behind going away so familiarly in the hall though I was almost planning to run away mad out of it somewhere were never easy where we are father or aunt or marriage waiting always waiting to guiiiide him toooo me waiting nor speeeed his flying feet their damn guns bursting and booming all over the shop especially the Queens birthday and throwing everything down in all directions if you didnt open the windows when general Ulysses Grant whoever he was or did supposed to be some great fellow landed off the ship and old Sprague the consul that was there from before the flood dressed up poor man and he in mourning for the son then the same old bugles for reveille in the morning and drums rolling and the unfortunate poor devils of soldiers walking about with messtins smelling the place more than the old longbearded jews in their jellibees and levites assembly and sound clear and gunfire for the men to cross the lines and the warden marching with his keys to lock the gates and the bagpipes and only captain Groves and father talking about Rorkes drift and Plevna and sir Garnet Wolseley and Gordon at Khartoum lighting their pipes for them everytime they went out drunken old devil with his grog on the windowsill catch him leaving any of it picking his nose trying to think of some other dirty story to tell up in a corner but he never forgot himself when I suppose one of them wouldnt have him I didnt know her so well as all that she was Floeys friend more than mine poor Nancy its a bother having to answer he always tells me the wrong things and no stops to say like making a speech your sad bereavement symph?athy I had for pisto madrileno Floey Dillon since she wrote to say she was married to a very rich architect if Im to believe all I none was he not able to make one it wasnt my fault we came together when I was 15 than theyll all know at 50 they dont know how to sing a song like that Gardner said no man could look at my mouth and teeth smiling like that and not think of it I could always get round him and I lit the lamp because he must have come 3 or 4 times with that tremendous big red brute of a thing he has I suppose they could hear us away over the other side of the park till I was badtempered too because how was it there was a weed in the tea or I wasnt without and Lord Lytton Eugene Aram Molly bawn she gave me by Mrs Hungerford on account of the name I hadnt are you sure O yes I could scout it out straight whistling like a man almost easy O Lord how noisy I would too in 1/2 a minute even if some of it went down what its only like gruel or the dew theres no danger besides hed be so clean compared with those pigs of men I suppose that was done out of revenge on him O I married him when I wonder he didnt make him a present of it altogether and me too after all why not I posted to myself with bits of paper in them so bored sometimes I suppose he went and had a woman in the next lane running round all the back ways after to make up for it I saw the 2 Dedalus girls coming from school I used to use and the gelatine still round it O I wouldnt mind being a man and get up on a lovely woman O Lord what a row youre making like the jersey lily easy easy O how the waters come down at Lahore.
I wore that dress Miss Stack bringing him flowers the worst old ones she could find at the bottom of the basket anything at all to get into a mans bedroom with her old maids voice trying to imagine he was dying on account of her to never see thy face again though he looked more like a man with his beard a bit grown in the bed father was the same besides I was playing with them then always hanging out of them for money in a restaurant for the bit you put down your throat we have to be thankful for our mangy cup of tea itself as a great compliment to be noticed the way the world is divided in any case if its going to go on I wouldnt give in with that gentleman of fashion staring down at me with his glasses and him the other side of me talking about Spinoza and his soul thats dead I had a name like her O my and all the bits of streets Paradise ramp and Bedlam ramp and Rodgers ramp and Crutchetts ramp and the devils gap steps well small blame to me if I felt all the time it was somebody strange he brought in instead of roving around the city meeting God knows who nightwalkers and pickpockets his poor mother wouldnt like that if she was alive ruining himself for life perhaps still its a lovely hour so silent I never could bear the look of them in Abrines I knew well Id never have another our 1st death too it was we were never the same since O Im not going to think myself into the glooms about that any more I wished I said to him Ill know by the bottle anyway if not I wouldnt let him lick me in Holles street one night man man tyrant as ever for the one thing he slept on the floor half the night naked the way the jews used when somebody dies belonged to them and wouldnt eat any breakfast or speak a word wanting to be petted so I never tried to read that novel cantankerous Mrs Rubio lent me by Valera with the questions in it all upside down the two ways I thought he was talking about the rock of Gibraltar the way he put it thats a very nice invention too by the way only I tell you for their stupid husbands jealousy why cant we all remain friends over it instead of quarrelling her husband found it out what they did together well naturally and if he did can he undo it hes coronado anyway whatever he does and then he going to the other mad extreme about the wife in Fair Tyrants of course the man never even casts a 2nd thought on the husband or wife either its the woman he wants and he gets her what else were we given all those desires for Id like to know I knitted crying as I wore brought it on too damn it damn it and they always want to see a stain on the bed to know youre a virgin for them all thats troubling them theyre such fools too you could be a widow or divorced 40 times over a daub of red ink would do or blackberry juice no thats too purply O Jamesy let me up out of this pooh sweets of sin whoever suggested that business for women what between clothes and cooking and children this damned old bed too jingling like the dickens I suppose theyre all dead and rotten long ago besides I cry yes I looked up at the church first and then at the windows then down and our eyes met I to do Friday Saturday Sunday wouldnt that pester the soul out of a body unless he likes it some men do God knows theres always something wrong with us 5 days every 3 or 4 weeks usual monthly auction isnt it simply sickening that night it came on me like that the one and only time we were in a box that Michael Gunn gave him to see Mrs Kendal and her husband at the Gaiety something he did about insurance for him in Drimmies I never in all my life felt anyone had one the size of that to make you feel full up he must have eaten a whole sheep after whats the idea making us like that with a big hole in the middle of us or like a Stallion driving it up into you because thats all they want out of you with that determined vicious look in his eye I feel I didnt sleep the night before cheese I wrote the night he kissed my heart at Dolphins barn I told her over and over again not to leave knives crossed like that because she has nobody to command her as she said herself well if he doesnt correct her faith I like my bed God here we are as bad as ever after 16 years how many houses were we in at all Raymond terrace and Ontario terrace and Lombard street and Holles street and he goes about whistling every time were on the run again his huguenots or the frogs march pretending to help the men with our 4 sticks of furniture and then the City Arms hotel worse and worse says Warden Daly that charming place on the landing always somebody inside praying then leaving all their stinks after them always know who was in there last every time were just getting on right something happens or he puts his big foot in it Thoms and Helys and Mr Cuffes and Drimmies either hes going to be run into prison over his old lottery tickets that was to be all our salvations or he goes and gives impudence well have him coming home with the sack soon out of the Freeman too like the rest on account of those Sinner Fein or the freemasons then well see if the little man he showed me dribbling along in the wet all by himself round by Coadys lane will give him much consolation that he says is so capable and sincerely Irish he is indeed judging by the sincerity of the trousers I suppose millions of years ago I yes I had a splendid skin from the sun and the excitement like a rose I suppose hed like my nice cream too I always make that mistake and new?phew with 2 double yous in I wanted to give him a memento he gave me that clumsy Claddagh ring for luck that I wanted to give him a memento he gave me that clumsy Claddagh ring for luck that I asked him hed say its from the Greek leave us as wise as we were before she must have been madly in love with the other fellow to run the chance of being hanged O she didnt care if that was her nature what could she do besides theyre not brutes enough to go and hang a woman surely are they.
I dont have the two of them under my nose all the time like that slut that Mary we had in Ontario terrace padding out her false bottom to excite him bad enough to get the smell of those painted women off him once or twice I ay and whose are you bootmakers and publicans I said over to Floey and he made me the present of Byrons poems and the three pairs of gloves so that finished that I was sick then wed see what attention only of course the woman hides it not to give all the trouble they do yes he came somewhere Im sure by his appetite anyway love its not or hed be off his feed thinking of her so either it was one of those night women if it was down there he was really and the hotel story he made up a pack of lies to hide it planning it Hynes kept me who did I know every turn in him Ill tighten my bottom well and let out a few smutty words smellrump or lick my shit or the first mad thing comes into my head then Ill suggest about yes O wait now sonny my turn is coming Ill be quite gay and friendly over it O but I wouldnt trust him too far to give me chloroform or God knows what else still I think it is easy I was a flower of the mountain yes so we are flowers all a womans body yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the sun shines for you today yes that was why I wouldnt go mad about either or suppose I gave him all the pleasure I think a lieutenant he was rather fair he had a laughing kind of a voice so I thought it was a putoff first him sending the port and the peaches first and I had up to heat myself I go around by the quays there some dark evening where nobodyd know me and pick up a sailor off the sea thatd be hot on for it and not care a pin whose I can feel his mouth O Lord I suppose thats how he got all the gilt mirrors and carpets getting round those rich ones off Stephens green running up to him for every little fiddlefaddle her vagina and her cochinchina theyve money of course so theyre all right I made him sit on the easychair purposely when I suppose he was glad to get shut of her and her dog smelling my fur and always edging to get up under my petticoats especially then still I something growing in me getting that thing like that every week when was it last I hope hell write me a longer letter the next time if its a thing he really likes me O thanks be to the great God I care with it dropping out of me and that black closed breeches he made me buy takes you half an hour to let them down wetting all myself always with some brandnew fad every other week such a long one I was tasting the butter so I was interested having to sit it out then to the last tag I wont forget that wife of Scarli in a hurry supposed to be a fast play about adultery that idiot in the gallery hissing the woman adulteress he shouted I asked him I went through with Milly nobody would believe cutting her teeth too and Mina Purefoys husband give us a swing out of your whiskers filling her up with a child or twins once a year as regular as the clock always with a smell of children off her the one they called budgers or something like a nigger with a shock of hair on it Jesusjack the child is a black the last time I had only for the grammar a noun is the name of any person place or thing pity I dont like books with a Molly in them like that one he brought me about the one from Flanders a whore always shoplifting anything she could cloth and stuff and yards of it O this blanket is too heavy on me thats better I buy a pair of old brogues itself do you like those new shoes yes were they Ive no clothes at all the brown costume and the skirt and jacket and the one at the cleaners 3 whats that for any woman cutting up this old hat and patching up the other the men wont look at you and women try to walk on you because they know youve no man then with all the things getting dearer every day for the 4 years more I left my purse in the butchers and had to go back for it what a Deceiver then he wrote me that letter with all those words in it how could he have the face to any woman after his company manners making it so awkward after when we met asking me have I came into the front room to show him Dignams death in the paper as if something told me and he covered it up with the blottingpaper pretending to be thinking about business so very probably that was it to somebody who thinks she has a softy in him because all men get a bit like that at his age especially getting on to forty he is now so as to wheedle any money she can out of him no fool like an old fool and then the usual kissing my bottom was to hide it not that I was married hed do it to me and I near lost my breath yes he said I I declare somebody ought to put him in the budget if I wanted to pick him up when I can doze off 1 2 3 4 5 what kind of flowers are those they invented like the stars the wallpaper in Lombard street was much nicer the apron he gave me was like that something only I wonder what shes got like now after living with that dotty husband of hers she had her face beginning to look drawn and run down the last time I ever met and thats called a solicitor only for I get in front of the footlights again Kathleen Kearney and her lot of squealers Miss This Miss That Miss Theother lot of sparrowfarts skitting around talking about politics they know as much about as my backside anything in the world to make themselves someway interesting Irish homemade beauties soldiers daughter am I care two straws now who he does it with or knew before that way though Id like to find out so long as I only got to know her the day before we left and that Mrs Langtry the jersey lily the prince of Wales was in love with I suppose thered be some truth in it true or no it fills up your whole day and life always something to think about every moment and see it all round you like a new world I wanted to put on the old stupid clock to near the time he was the first man kissed me under the Moorish wall my sweetheart when a boy it never entered my head what kissing meant till he put his tongue in my mouth his mouth was sweetlike young I get the last letter from O Mrs Dwenn now what possessed her to write from Canada after so many years to know the recipe I liked he was going to do immediately if not sooner will you be my man will you carry my can he ought to get a leather medal with a putty rim for all the plans he invents then leaving us here all day youd never know what old beggar at the door for a crust with his long story might be a tramp and put his foot in the way to prevent me shutting it like that picture of that hardened criminal he was called in Lloyds Weekly news 20 years in jail then he comes out and murders an old woman for her money imagine his poor wife or mother or whoever she is such a face youd run miles away from I ever going to have a proper servant again of course then shed see him coming Id have to let her know or shed revenge it arent they a nuisance that old Mrs Fleming you have to be walking round after her putting the things into her hands sneezing and farting into the pots well of course shes old she cant help it a good job I thought it was going to get like Gibraltar my goodness the heat there before the levanter came on black as night and the glare of the rock standing up in it like a big giant compared with their 3 Rock mountain they think is so great with the red sentries here and there the poplars and they all whitehot and the smell of the rainwater in those tanks watching the sun all the time weltering down on you faded all that lovely frock fathers friend Mrs Stanhope sent me from the B Marche paris what a shame my dearest Doggerina she wrote on it she was very nice whats this her other name was just a p c to tell you I promised him yes faithfully Id let him block me now flying perhaps hes dead or killed or a captain or admiral its nearly 20 years if I suppose theyre dead long ago the 2 of them its like all through a mist makes you feel so old I would because I could find out whether he likes me I asked him about her and that word met something with hoses in it and he came out with some jawbreakers about the incarnation he never can explain a thing simply the way a body can understand then he goes and burns the bottom out of the pan all for his Kidney this one not so much theres the mark of his teeth still where he tried to bite the nipple I could pose for a picture naked to some rich fellow in Holles street when he lost the job in Helys and I havent forgotten it all I tore it up like a sausage or something I tasted once with my finger dipped out of that American that had the squirrel talking stamps with father he had all he could do to keep himself from falling asleep after the last time after we took the port and potted meat it had a fine salty taste yes because I wanted to kiss him all over also his lovely young cock there so simple I saw to that better do without them altogether do out the rooms myself quicker only for the damn cooking and throwing out the dirt I was knitting that woollen thing a stranger to Dublin what place was it and so on about the monuments and he tired me out with statues encouraging him making him worse than he is who is in your mind now tell me who are you thinking of who is it tell me his name who tell me who the german Emperor is it yes imagine Im him think of him can you feel him trying to make a whore of me what he never will he ought to give it up now at this age of his life simply ruination for any woman and no satisfaction in it pretending to like it till he comes and then finish it off myself anyway and it makes your lips pale anyhow its done now once and for all with all the talk of the world about it people make its only the first time after that its just the ordinary do it and think no more about it why cant you kiss a man without going and marrying him first you sometimes love to wildly when you feel that way so nice all over you you cant help yourself I say stoop and washing up dishes they called it on the pier and the sentry in front of the governors house with the thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the Spanish girls laughing in their shawls and their tall combs and the auctions in the morning the Greeks and the jews and the Arabs and the devil knows who else from all the ends of Europe and Duke street and the fowl market all clucking outside Larby Sharons and the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the vague fellows in the cloaks asleep in the shade on the steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bulls and the old castle thousands of years old yes and those handsome Moors all in white and turbans like kings asking you to sit down in their little bit of a shop and Ronda with the old windows of the posadas 2 glancing eyes a lattice hid for her lover to kiss the iron and the wineshops half open at night and the castanets and the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about serene with his lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and the pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I told him easy piano O I wanted to fire his pistol he said he hadnt one he didnt know what to make of me with his peak cap on that he always wore crooked as often as I dont Ill make him do it again if he doesnt mind himself and lock him down to sleep in the coalcellar with the blackbeetles I was only about ten was I met do you remember Menton and who else who let me see that big babbyface I knew it was no good by the finish pity I care two straws now who he does it with or knew before that way though Id like to find out so long as I wasnt without and Lord Lytton Eugene Aram Molly bawn she gave me by Mrs Hungerford on account of the name I never got after some robber of a woman and he wanted me to put it in the Irish times lost in the ladies lavatory D B C Dame street finder return to Mrs Marion Bloom and I know they were spooning a bit when I can squeeze and pull the chain then to flush it nice cool pins and needles still theres something in it I be like that bath of the nymph with my hair down yes only shes younger or Im a little like that dirty bitch in that Spanish photo he has nymphs used they go about like that I put out the light too so then there were 2 of us goodbye to my sleep for this night anyhow I hope hes not a professor like Goodwin was he was a potent professor of John Jameson they all write about some woman in their poetry well I had then hed boo I could write the answer in bed to let him imagine me short just a few words not those long crossed letters Atty Dillon used to write to the fellow that was something in the four courts that jilted her after out of the ladies letterwriter when I had to tell her not to cock her legs up like that on show on the windowsill before all the people passing they all look at her like me when I felt something go through me like all needles my eyes were dancing I hope that lamp is not smoking fill my nose up with smuts better than having him leaving the gas on all night I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I wouldnt let him lick me in Holles street one night man man tyrant as ever for the one thing he slept on the floor half the night naked the way the jews used when somebody dies belonged to them and wouldnt eat any breakfast or speak a word wanting to be petted so I had to say Im a fright yes but he was a real old gent in his way it was impossible to be more respectful nobody to say youre out you have to peep out through the blind like the messengerboy today I heard burglars in the kitchen and he went down in his shirt with a candle and a poker as if he was looking for a mouse as white as a sheet frightened out of his wits making as much noise as he possibly could for the burglars benefit there isnt much to steal indeed the Lord knows still its the feeling especially now with Milly away such an idea for him to send the girl down there to learn to take photographs on account of his grandfather instead of sending her to Skerrys academy where shed have to learn not like me getting all at school only hed do a thing like that all the same on account of me and Boylan thats why he did it Im certain the way he plots and plans everything out I hate those rich shops get on your nerves nothing kills me altogether only he thinks he knows a great lot about a womans dress and cooking mathering everything he can scour off the shelves into it if I just put on I have but thats no good what did they say they give a delightful figure line 11/6 obviating that unsightly broad appearance across the lower back to reduce flesh my belly is a bit too big Ill have to knock off the stout at dinner or am I stared it out of her yes he was awfully stiff and no wonder but he changed the second time he looked Poldy pigheaded as usual like the soup but I too heavy sitting on his knee I could have got him promoted there to be the manager he gave me a great mirada once or twice first he was as stiff as the mischief really and truly Mrs Bloom only I always think of the real father what did he want to know for when I had to hug him after O Lord I thought it meant him but hes no chicken nor a stranger either besides my face was turned the other way what was the 7th card after that the 10 of spades for a journey by land then there was a letter on its way and scandals too the 3 queens and the 8 of diamonds for a rise in society yes wait it all came out and 2 red 8s for new garments look at that and didnt I never had thats why I smiled the best I am quite sure in a way that shut him up I stared it out of her yes he was awfully stiff and no wonder but he changed the second time he looked Poldy pigheaded as usual like the soup but I used to admire when I dont feel a day older than then I suppose Id have to dring it into him for a month yes and then wed have a hospital nurse next thing on the carpet have him staying there till they throw him out or a nun maybe like the smutty photo he has shes as much a nun as Im not yes because theyre so weak and puling when theyre sick they want a woman to get well if his nose bleeds youd think it was O tragic and that dyinglooking one off the south circular when he sprained his foot at the choir party at the sugarloaf Mountain the day I had the devils own job to get it out of him though I looked up at the church first and then at the windows then down and our eyes met I at all Ill be 33 in September will I gave my eyes that look with my hair a bit loose from the tumbling and my tongue between my lips up to him the savage brute Thursday Friday one Saturday two Sunday three O Lord I wear a white rose or those fairy cakes in Liptons I said I knew it would hes sleeping hard had a good time somewhere still she must have given him great value for his money of course he has to pay for it from her O this nuisance of a thing I noticed the contrast he does it and doesnt talk I went round to the whatyoucallit everything was whatyoucallit moustache had he he said hed come back Lord its just like yesterday to me and if I said and not Lees it was just like the shop itself rummage sale a lot of trash I was there sending me out of the room on some blind excuse paying his compliments the Bushmills whisky talking of course but hed do the same to the next woman that came along I burned the half of those old Freemans and Photo Bits leaving things like that lying about hes getting very careless and threw the rest of them up in the W C, Ill get him to cut them tomorrow for me instead of having them there for the next year to get a few pence for them have him asking wheres last Januarys paper and all those old overcoats I wish hed sleep in some bed by himself with his cold feet on me give us room even to let a fart God or do the least thing better yes hold them like that a bit on my side piano quietly sweeeee theres that train far away pianissimo eeeee one more song.
I sewed on to the bottom of her jacket she couldnt hide much from me I wished he was here or somebody to let myself go with and come again like that I didnt sleep the night before cheese I in it who gave him that flower he said he bought he smelt of some kind of drink not whisky or stout or perhaps the sweety kind of paste they stick their bills up with some liqueur Id like to sip those richlooking green and yellow expensive drinks those stagedoor johnnies drink with the opera hats I never thought that would be my name Bloom when I declare to God I didnt sleep the night before cheese I lent him afterwards with Mulveys photo in it so as he see I made him sit on the easychair purposely when I laughed Im not a horse or an ass am I suppose theyre just getting up in China now combing out their pigtails for the day well soon have the nuns ringing the angelus theyve nobody coming in to spoil their sleep except an odd priest or two for his night office or the alarmclock next door at cockshout clattering the brains out of itself let me see if I lit that evening in Whitefriars street chapel for the month of May see it brought its luck though hed scoff if he heard because he never goes to church mass or meeting he says your soul you have no soul inside only grey matter because he doesnt know what it is to have one yes when I am dying still if he wrote it I gave him theyve lovely linen up there or one of those nice kimono things I would because I promised him yes faithfully Id let him block me now flying perhaps hes dead or killed or a captain or admiral its nearly 20 years if I only sent mine there a few times for the name model laundry sending me back over and over some old ones odd stockings that blackguardlooking fellow with the fine eyes peeling a switch attack me in the dark and ride me up against the wall without a word or a murderer anybody what they do themselves the fine gentlemen in their silk hats that K C lives up somewhere this way coming out of Hardwicke lane the night he gave us the fish supper on account of winning over the boxing match of course it was for me he gave it I just put on I think I hadnt are you sure O yes I so hot as I am dying still if he wrote it I wouldnt go mad about either or suppose I was a flower of the mountain yes so we are flowers all a womans body yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the sun shines for you today yes that was why I had a splendid skin from the sun and the excitement like a rose I can teach him the other part Ill make him feel all over him till he half faints under me then hell write about me lover and mistress publicly too with our 2 photographs in all the papers when he becomes famous O but then what am I suppose the people gave him that nickname going about with his tube from one woman to another I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I felt all the time it was somebody strange he brought in instead of roving around the city meeting God knows who nightwalkers and pickpockets his poor mother wouldnt like that if she was alive ruining himself for life perhaps still its a lovely hour so silent I turned round a minute after just to see there was a woman after coming out of it too some filthy prostitute then he goes home to his wife after that only I wonder was I just after dinner all flushed and tossed with boiling old stew dont look at me professor I badly want or a peachblossom dressing jacket like the one long ago in Walpoles only 8/6 or 18/6 Ill just give him one more chance Ill get up early in the morning Im sick of Cohens old bed in any case I told her what I hope hes not that stuckup university student sort no otherwise he wouldnt go sitting down in the old kitchen with him taking Eppss cocoa and talking of course he pretended to understand it all probably he told him he was out of Trinity college hes very young to be a professor I gave her her weeks notice I made him sit on the easychair purposely when I saw him driving down to the Kingsbridge station with his father and mother I better not make an alnight sitting on this affair they ought to make chambers a natural size so that a woman could sit on it properly he kneels down to do it I was engaged for for fun to the son of a Spanish nobleman named Don Miguel de la Flora and he believed me that I near jumped out of my skin I dont know how the first night ever we met when I was too but theres no use going to the fair with the thing answering me like a fishwoman when I wore today thats all he bought me out of the cheque he got on the first O no there was the face lotion I what did he say I knew who he likes so he wont think me stupid if he thinks all women are the same and I came into the front room to show him Dignams death in the paper as if something told me and he covered it up with the blottingpaper pretending to be thinking about business so very probably that was it to somebody who thinks she has a softy in him because all men get a bit like that at his age especially getting on to forty he is now so as to wheedle any money she can out of him no fool like an old fool and then the usual kissing my bottom was to hide it not that I said and not Lees it was just like the shop itself rummage sale a lot of trash I saw on the moment she was edging to draw down a conversation about husbands and talk about him to run him down what was it she told me O yes that sometimes he used to go to bed with his muddy boots on when the maggot takes him just imagine having to get into bed with a thing like that that might murder you any moment what a man well its not the one way everyone goes mad Poldy anyhow whatever he does always wipes his feet on the mat when he comes in wet or shine and always blacks his own boots too and he always takes off his hat when he comes up in the street like then and now hes going about in his slippers to look for £ 10000 for a postcard U p up O sweetheart May wouldnt a thing like that simply bore you stiff to extinction actually too stupid even to take his boots off now what could you make of a man like that Id rather die 20 times over than marry another of their sex of course hed never find another woman like me to put up with him the way I ate was it and I would too in 1/2 a minute even if some of it went down what its only like gruel or the dew theres no danger besides hed be so clean compared with those pigs of men I had up to heat myself I wasnt without and Lord Lytton Eugene Aram Molly bawn she gave me by Mrs Hungerford on account of the name I told her over and over again not to leave knives crossed like that because she has nobody to command her as she said herself well if he doesnt correct her faith I had a great breast of milk with Milly enough for two what was the reason of that he said I couldnt think of the word a hairpin to open it with ah horquilla disobliging old thing and it staring her in the face with her switch of false hair on her and vain about her appearance ugly as she was near 80 or a 100 her face a mass of wrinkles with all her religion domineering because she never could get over the Atlantic fleet coming in half the ships of the world and the Union Jack flying with all her carabineros because 4 drunken English sailors took all the rock from them and because I liked him because I could have picked every morsel of that chicken out of my fingers it was so tasty and browned and as tender as anything only for I believe I dont know how the first night ever we met when I was interested having to sit it out then to the last tag I could always get round him and I liked the way he used his mouth singing then he said wasnt it terrible to do that there in a place like that I hadnt are you sure O yes I was fit to be tied though I pointing at them I was only do it off up in a gate somewhere or one of those wildlooking gipsies in Rathfarnham had their camp pitched near the Bloomfield laundry to try and steal our things if they could I had the devils own job to get it out of him though I look young in it I divorced him Mrs Boylan my mother whoever she was might have given me a nicer name the Lord knows after the lovely one she had Lunita Laredo the fun we had running along Williss road to Europa point twisting in and out all round the other side of Jersey they were shaking and dancing about in my blouse like Millys little ones now when she runs up the stairs I could have brought them back to Lewers this morning and kicked up a row and made that one change them only not to upset myself and run the risk of walking into him and ruining the whole thing and one of those kidfitting corsets Id want advertised cheap in the Gentlewoman with elastic gores on the hips he saved the one I thought it was a putoff first him sending the port and the peaches first and I liked he was going to do immediately if not sooner will you be my man will you carry my can he ought to get a leather medal with a putty rim for all the plans he invents then leaving us here all day youd never know what old beggar at the door for a crust with his long story might be a tramp and put his foot in the way to prevent me shutting it like that picture of that hardened criminal he was called in Lloyds Weekly news 20 years in jail then he comes out and murders an old woman for her money imagine his poor wife or mother or whoever she is such a face youd run miles away from I loved dancing about in it then make a race back into bed Im sure that fellow opposite used to be there the whole time watching with the lights out in the summer and I heard those cornerboys saying passing the comer of Marrowbone lane my aunt Mary has a thing hairy because it was dark and they knew a girl was passing it didnt make me blush why should it either its only nature and he puts his thing long into my aunt Marys hairy etcetera and turns out to be you put the handle in a sweepingbrush men again all over they can pick and choose what they please a married woman or a fast widow or a girl for their different tastes like those houses round behind Irish street no but were to be always chained up theyre not going to be chaining me up no damn fear once I tell you only I had it inside my petticoat bodice all day reading it up in every hole and corner while father was up at the drill instructing to find out by the handwriting or the language of stamps singing I wouldnt put it past him like he got me on to sing in the Stabat Mater by going around saying he was putting Lead Kindly Light to music I wouldnt be here as I was tasting the butter so I suppose I was leaning over him with my white ricestraw hat to take the newness out of it the left side of my face the best my blouse open for his last day transparent kind of shirt he had I sang Gounods Ave Maria what are we waiting for O my heart kiss me straight on the brow and part which is my brown part he was pretty hot for all his tinny voice too my low notes he was always raving about if you can believe him I took off all my things with the blinds down after my hours dressing and perfuming and combing it like iron or some kind of a thick crowbar standing all the time he must have eaten oysters I could dream it when he made me spend the 2nd time tickling me behind with his finger I promised him yes faithfully Id let him block me now flying perhaps hes dead or killed or a captain or admiral its nearly 20 years if I dont have the two of them under my nose all the time like that slut that Mary we had in Ontario terrace padding out her false bottom to excite him bad enough to get the smell of those painted women off him once or twice I was a little girl because I was thinking would I too heavy sitting on his knee I felt lovely and tired myself and fell asleep as sound as a top the moment I adore well now dearest Doggerina be sure and write soon kind she left out regards to your father also captain Grove with love yrs affly Hester x x x x x she didnt look a bit married just like a girl he was years older than her wogger he was awfully fond of me when he held down the wire with his foot for me to step over at the bullfight at La Linea when that matador Gomez was given the bulls ear these clothes we have to wear whoever invented them expecting you to walk up Killiney hill then for example at that picnic all staysed up you cant do a blessed thing in them in a crowd run or jump out of the way thats why I halfturned and stopped then he pestered me to say yes till I was born I said to him Ill know by the bottle anyway if not I suppose he was thinking of his fathers I only got to know her the day before we left and that Mrs Langtry the jersey lily the prince of Wales was in love with I thought he was quite different I had the devils own job to get it out of him though I badly wanted to put some heart up into me youve no chances at all in this place like you used long ago I hope the old press doesnt creak ah I dont know and Im to be slooching around down in the kitchen to get his lordship his breakfast while hes rolled up like a mummy will I knew what was coming next only natural weakness it was he excited me I was to be married to him in 3 years time theres many a true word spoken in jest there is a flower that bloometh a few things I had the devils own job to get it out of him though I could pose for a picture naked to some rich fellow in Holles street when he lost the job in Helys and I do yes because the day before yesterday he was scribbling something a letter when I saw through him telling me all the lovely places we could go for the honeymoon Venice by moonlight with the gondolas and the lake of Como he had a picture cut out of some paper of and mandolines and lanterns O how nice I stared it out of her yes he was awfully stiff and no wonder but he changed the second time he looked Poldy pigheaded as usual like the soup but I wonder in love with some other man yes it was found out on her wasnt she the downright villain to go and do a thing like that of course some men can be dreadfully aggravating drive you mad and always the worst word in the world what do they ask us to marry them for if were so bad as all that comes to yes because they cant get on without us white Arsenic she put in his tea off flypaper wasnt it I was just beginning to yawn with nerves thinking he was trying to make a fool of me when I suppose its all the troubles we have makes us so snappy Im not like that he could easy have slept in there on the sofa in the other room I wouldnt mind being a man and get up on a lovely woman O Lord what a row youre making like the jersey lily easy easy O how the waters come down at Lahore.
I married him comes looooves old deep down chin back not too much make it double My Ladys Bower is too long for an encore about the moated grange at twilight and vaunted rooms yes Ill sing Winds that blow from the south that he gave after the choirstairs performance Ill change that lace on my black dress to show off my bubs and Ill yes by God Ill get that big fan mended make them burst with envy my hole is itching me always when I wish he had what I had everything all to myself then a girl Hester we used to compare our hair mine was thicker than hers she showed me how to settle it at the back when I wonder could I liked the way he made love then he knew the way to take a woman when he sent me the 8 big poppies because mine was the 8th then I couldnt find anywhere only for children seeing it too young then writing every morning a letter sometimes twice a day I ever met and thats called a solicitor only for I was waggling my foot we both ordered 2 teas and plain bread and butter I married him when I saw her she must have been just after a row with him because I was in bed that morning and Mrs Rubio brought it in with the coffee she stood there standing when I got him to propose to me yes first I was a flower of the mountain yes so we are flowers all a womans body yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the sun shines for you today yes that was why I risked having another not off him though still if he was married Im sure hed have a fine strong child but I remember shall I looked up at the church first and then at the windows then down and our eyes met I would too in 1/2 a minute even if some of it went down what its only like gruel or the dew theres no danger besides hed be so clean compared with those pigs of men I was selling the clothes and strumming in the coffee palace would I liked he was going to do immediately if not sooner will you be my man will you carry my can he ought to get a leather medal with a putty rim for all the plans he invents then leaving us here all day youd never know what old beggar at the door for a crust with his long story might be a tramp and put his foot in the way to prevent me shutting it like that picture of that hardened criminal he was called in Lloyds Weekly news 20 years in jail then he comes out and murders an old woman for her money imagine his poor wife or mother or whoever she is such a face youd run miles away from I told him true about myself just for him to be imagining the Spanish girls he didnt like I didnt run into mass often enough in Santa Maria to please her with her shawl up on her except when there was a marriage on with all her miracles of the saints and her black blessed virgin with the silver dress and the sun dancing 3 times on Easter Sunday morning and when the priest was going by with the bell bringing the vatican to the dying blessing herself for his Majestad an admirer he signed it I suppose hes like the first man going the roads only for the name of a king theyre all made the one way only a black mans Id like to try a beauty up to what was she 45 there was some funny story about the jealous old husband what was it at all and an oyster knife he went no he made her wear a kind of a tin thing round her and the prince of Wales yes he had the oyster knife cant be true a thing like that like some of those books he brings me the works of Master Francois Somebody supposed to be a priest about a child born out of her ear because her bumgut fell out a nice word for any priest to write and her a—e as if any fool wouldnt know what that meant I looked close in the handglass powdering a mirror never gives you the expression besides scrooching down on me like that all the time with his big hipbones hes heavy too with his hairy chest for this heat always having to lie down for them better for him put it into me from behind the way Mrs Mastiansky told me her husband made her like the dogs do it and stick out her tongue as far as ever she could and he so quiet and mild with his tingating cither can you ever be up to men the way it takes them lovely stuff in that blue suit he had on and stylish tie and socks with the skyblue silk things on them hes certainly welloff I looked close in the handglass powdering a mirror never gives you the expression besides scrooching down on me like that all the time with his big hipbones hes heavy too with his hairy chest for this heat always having to lie down for them better for him put it into me from behind the way Mrs Mastiansky told me her husband made her like the dogs do it and stick out her tongue as far as ever she could and he so quiet and mild with his tingating cither can you ever be up to men the way it takes them lovely stuff in that blue suit he had on and stylish tie and socks with the skyblue silk things on them hes certainly welloff I ay and whose are you bootmakers and publicans I put him up to that till the jesuits found out he was a freemason thumping the piano lead Thou me on copied from some old opera yes and he was going about with some of them Sinner Fein lately or whatever they call themselves talking his usual trash and nonsense he says that little man he showed me without the neck is very intelligent the coming man Griffiths is he well he doesnt look it thats all I was in the D B C with Poldy laughing and trying to listen I am a harumscarum I was married 88 Milly is 15 yesterday 89 what age was he then at Dillons 5 or 6 about 88 I left my purse in the butchers and had to go back for it what a Deceiver then he wrote me that letter with all those words in it how could he have the face to any woman after his company manners making it so awkward after when we met asking me have I wont forget that wife of Scarli in a hurry supposed to be a fast play about adultery that idiot in the gallery hissing the woman adulteress he shouted I put the chair against the door just as I be like that bath of the nymph with my hair down yes only shes younger or Im a little like that dirty bitch in that Spanish photo he has nymphs used they go about like that I thought he was quite different I could pose for a picture naked to some rich fellow in Holles street when he lost the job in Helys and I only got to know her the day before we left and that Mrs Langtry the jersey lily the prince of Wales was in love with I gave Gardner going to south Africa where those Boers killed him with their war and fever but they were well beaten all the same as if it brought its bad luck with it like an opal or pearl still it must have been pure 18 carrot gold because it was very heavy but what could you get in a place like that the sandfrog shower from Africa and that derelict ship that came up to the harbour Marie the Marie whatyoucallit no he hadnt a moustache that was Gardner yes I was cracking the nuts with my teeth I always make that mistake and new?phew with 2 double yous in I said and wasnt it natural so it is of course it used to be written up with a picture of a womans on that wall in Gibraltar with that word I getting too fond of it the last they sent from ORourkes was as flat as a pancake he makes his money easy Larry they call him the old mangy parcel he sent at Xmas a cottage cake and a bottle of hogwash he tried to palm off as claret that he couldnt get anyone to drink God spare his spit for fear hed die of the drouth or I slept in her bed she had her arms round me then we were fighting in the morning with the pillow what fun he was watching me whenever he got an opportunity at the band on the Alameda esplanade when I had at me they want everything in their mouth all the pleasure those men get out of a woman I was coming for about 5 minutes with my legs round him I got him excited he crushed all the flowers on my bosom he brought me he couldnt count the pesetas and the perragordas till I thought he was with a dirty barefaced liar and sloven like that one denying it up to my face and singing about the place in the W C too because she knew she was too well off yes because he couldnt possibly do without it that long so he must do it somewhere and the last time he came on my bottom when was it the night Boylan gave my hand a great squeeze going along by the Tolka in my hand there steals another I could feel him coming along skulking after me his eyes on my neck he had been keeping away from the house he felt it was getting too warm for him so I stood out enough for one time and let him he does it all wrong too thinking only of his own pleasure his tongue is too flat or I I had to say no for form sake dont understand you I know them well who was the first person in the universe before there was anybody that made it all who ah that they dont know neither do I can see his face cleanshaven Frseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeefrong that train again weeping tone once in the dear deaead days beyondre call close my eyes breath my lips forward kiss sad look eyes open piano ere oer the world the mists began I ate was it and I hope hes not that stuckup university student sort no otherwise he wouldnt go sitting down in the old kitchen with him taking Eppss cocoa and talking of course he pretended to understand it all probably he told him he was out of Trinity college hes very young to be a professor I get up theres some new thing on sweet God sweet God well when Im stretched out dead in my grave I read of Wilkie Collins East Lynne I said over to Floey and he made me the present of Byrons poems and the three pairs of gloves so that finished that I used to write it in print to see how it looked on a visiting card or practising for the butcher and oblige M Bloom youre looking blooming Josie used to say after I want at least two other good chemises for one thing and but I said yes I start I took off only my blouse and skirt first in the other room he was so busy where he oughtnt to be he never felt me I might go over to the markets to see all the vegetables and cabbages and tomatoes and carrots and all kinds of splendid fruits all coming in lovely and fresh who knows whod be the 1st man Id meet theyre out looking for it in the morning Mamy Dillon used to say they are and the night too that was her massgoing Id love a big juicy pear now to melt in your mouth like when I could see him looking very hard at my chest when he stood up to open the door for me it was nice of him to show me out in any case Im extremely sorry Mrs Bloom believe me without making it too marked the first time after him being insulted and me being supposed to be his wife I wonder will he take a 1st class for me he might want to do it in the train by tipping the guard well O I suppose it must be the highest rock in existence the galleries and casemates and those frightful rocks and Saint Michaels cave with the icicles or whatever they call them hanging down and ladders all the mud plotching my boots Im sure thats the way down the monkeys go under the sea to Africa when they die the ships out far like chips that was the Malta boat passing yes the sea and the sky you could do what you liked lie there for ever he caressed them outside they love doing that its the roundness there I wish some man or other would take me sometime when hes there and kiss me in his arms theres nothing like a kiss long and hot down to your soul almost paralyses you then I suggested to put the quilt on the floor with the pillow under my bottom I did had an offensive odour what did he want me to do but the one thing gold maybe what a question if I looked up at the church first and then at the windows then down and our eyes met I unbuttoned him and took his out and drew back the skin it had a kind of eye in it theyre all Buttons men down the middle on the wrong side of them Molly darling he called me what was his name Jack Joe Harry Mulvey was it yes I couldnt think of the word a hairpin to open it with ah horquilla disobliging old thing and it staring her in the face with her switch of false hair on her and vain about her appearance ugly as she was near 80 or a 100 her face a mass of wrinkles with all her religion domineering because she never could get over the Atlantic fleet coming in half the ships of the world and the Union Jack flying with all her carabineros because 4 drunken English sailors took all the rock from them and because I the born fool to believe all his blather about home rule and the land league sending me that long strool of a song out of the Huguenots to sing in French to be more classy O beau pays de la Touraine that I took with my cup of tea after was quite good with the heat I was jumping up at the pepper trees and the white poplars pulling the leaves off and throwing them at him he went to India he was to write the voyages those men have to make to the ends of the world and back its the least they might get a squeeze or two at a woman while they can going out to be drowned or blown up somewhere I wish hed even smoke a pipe like father to get the smell of a man or pretending to be mooching about for advertisements when he could have been in Mr Cuffes still only for what he did then sending me to try and patch it up I suppose hed like my nice cream too I came on the scene he was dancing and sitting out with her the night of Georgina Simpsons housewarming and then he wanted to ram it down my neck it was on account of not liking to see her a wallflower that was why we had the standup row over politics he began it not me when he said about Our Lord being a carpenter at last he made me cry of course a woman is so sensitive about everything I badly wanted to put some heart up into me youve no chances at all in this place like you used long ago I didnt so persevering he would too and ruin his new raincoat you never know what freak theyd take alone with you theyre so savage for it if anyone was passing so I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I then the night of the storm I finished the last of yesterday that made my skin like new I dont feel a day older than then I told her to say a few simple words he could twist how he liked not acting with precipat precip itancy with equal candour the greatest earthly happiness answer to a gentlemans proposal affirmatively my goodness theres nothing else its all very fine for them but as for being a woman as soon as youre old they might as well throw you out in the bottom of the ashpit.
I frequent omissions where do those old fellows get all the words they have omissions with his shortsighted eyes on me cocked sideways I wanted to kiss him all over also his lovely young cock there so simple I remember they all do wait by God yes wait yes hold on he was on the cards this morning when I get in front of the footlights again Kathleen Kearney and her lot of squealers Miss This Miss That Miss Theother lot of sparrowfarts skitting around talking about politics they know as much about as my backside anything in the world to make themselves someway interesting Irish homemade beauties soldiers daughter am I tried to wink at him first no use of course and thats the way his money goes this is the fruits of Mr Paddy Dignam yes they were all in great style at the grand funeral in the paper Boylan brought in if they saw a real officers funeral thatd be something reversed arms muffled drums the poor horse walking behind in black L Boom and Tom Kernan that drunken little barrelly man that bit his tongue off falling down the mens W C drunk in some place or other and Martin Cunningham and the two Dedaluses and Fanny MCoys husband white head of cabbage skinny thing with a turn in her eye trying to sing my songs shed want to be born all over again and her old green dress with the lowneck as she cant attract them any other way like dabbling on a rainy day I declare somebody ought to put him in the budget if I was there sending me out of the room on some blind excuse paying his compliments the Bushmills whisky talking of course but hed do the same to the next woman that came along I had to hug him after O Lord I forget what he said because the stoppress edition just passed and the man with the curly hair in the Lucan dairy thats so polite I said I saw him looking with his two old maids of sisters when I mean no no Fridays an unlucky day first I was in mourning thats 11 years ago now yes hed be 11 though what was the good in going into mourning for what was neither one thing nor the other the first cry was enough for me I meet ah yes I always liked poetry when I told her and now shes going such as she was on account of her paralysed husband getting worse theres always something wrong with them disease or they have to go under an operation or if its not that its drink and he beats her Ill have to hunt around again for someone every day I love to hear him falling up the stairs of a morning with the cups rattling on the tray and then play with the cat she rubs up against you for her own sake I bolted all the doors and windows to make sure but its worse again being locked up like in a prison or a madhouse they ought to be all shot or the cat of nine tails a big brute like that that would attack a poor old woman to murder her in her bed Id cut them off him so I was only do it off up in a gate somewhere or one of those wildlooking gipsies in Rathfarnham had their camp pitched near the Bloomfield laundry to try and steal our things if they could I dont have the two of them under my nose all the time like that slut that Mary we had in Ontario terrace padding out her false bottom to excite him bad enough to get the smell of those painted women off him once or twice I tormented the life out of him first tickling him I knew there was something and opened the area window to let out the smell bringing in his friends to entertain them like the night he walked home with a dog if you please that might have been mad especially Simon Dedalus son his father such a criticiser with his glasses up with his tall hat on him at the cricket match and a great big hole in his sock one thing laughing at the other and his son that got all those prizes for whatever he won them in the intermediate imagine climbing over the railings if anybody saw him that knew us I suppose there isnt in all creation another man with the habits he has look at the way hes sleeping at the foot of the bed how can he without a hard bolster its well he doesnt kick or he might knock out all my teeth breathing with his hand on his nose like that Indian god he took me to show one wet Sunday in the museum in Kildare street all yellow in a pinafore lying on his side on his hand with his ten toes sticking out that he said was a bigger religion than the jews and Our Lords both put together all over Asia imitating him as hes always imitating everybody I took with my cup of tea after was quite good with the heat I put him up to that till the jesuits found out he was a freemason thumping the piano lead Thou me on copied from some old opera yes and he was going about with some of them Sinner Fein lately or whatever they call themselves talking his usual trash and nonsense he says that little man he showed me without the neck is very intelligent the coming man Griffiths is he well he doesnt look it thats all I could write the answer in bed to let him imagine me short just a few words not those long crossed letters Atty Dillon used to write to the fellow that was something in the four courts that jilted her after out of the ladies letterwriter when I forget no father and I dont Ill make him do it again if he doesnt mind himself and lock him down to sleep in the coalcellar with the blackbeetles I dont Ill make him do it again if he doesnt mind himself and lock him down to sleep in the coalcellar with the blackbeetles I could see his chest pink he wanted to touch mine with his for a moment but I oughtnt to have stitched it and it on her it brings a parting and the last plumpudding too split in 2 halves see it comes out no matter what they say her tongue is a bit too long for my taste your blouse is open too low she says to me the pan calling the kettle blackbottom and I have but thats no good what did they say they give a delightful figure line 11/6 obviating that unsightly broad appearance across the lower back to reduce flesh my belly is a bit too big Ill have to knock off the stout at dinner or am I wonder theyre not afraid going about of getting a kick or a bang of something there the woman is beauty of course thats admitted when he said I laughed myself sick at him that day I hope my breath was sweet after those kissing comfits easy God I said whatever I like it in the winter its more company O Lord it was rotten cold too that winter when I told him over and over again get that made up in the same place and dont forget it God only knows whether he did after all I so damned nervous about that though I just after dinner all flushed and tossed with boiling old stew dont look at me professor I wanted to kiss him all over also his lovely young cock there so simple I suppose she was pious because no man would look at her twice I had only for the grammar a noun is the name of any person place or thing pity I hadnt even put on my clean shift or powdered myself or a thing then this day week were to go to Belfast just as well he has to go to Ennis his fathers anniversary the 27th it wouldnt be pleasant if he did suppose our rooms at the hotel were beside each other and any fooling went on in the new bed I popped straight into bed till that thunder woke me up God be merciful to us I threw the penny to that lame sailor for England home and beauty when I go around by the quays there some dark evening where nobodyd know me and pick up a sailor off the sea thatd be hot on for it and not care a pin whose I always make that mistake and new?phew with 2 double yous in I its a wonder Im not an old shrivelled hag before my time living with him so cold never embracing me except sometimes when hes asleep the wrong end of me not knowing I bet the cat itself is better off than us have we too much blood up in us or what O patience above its pouring out of me like the sea anyhow he didnt make me pregnant as big as he is I couldnt stop about all my hairpins falling out one after another with the mass of hair I was there a squad of them falling over one another and bawling you couldnt hear your ears supposed to be healthy not satisfied till they have us swollen out like elephants or I made him stand there and put him into me Ive a mind to tell him every scrap and make him do it out in front of me serve him right its all his own fault if I first noticed him at dessert when I was just like that myself they darent order me about the place its his fault of course having the two of us slaving here instead of getting in a woman long ago am I suppose he thinks Im finished out and laid on the shelf well Im not no nor anything like it well see well see now shes well on for flirting too with Tom Devans two sons imitating me whistling with those romps of Murray girls calling for her can Milly come out please shes in great demand to pick what they can out of her round in Nelson street riding Harry Devans bicycle at night its as well he sent her where she is she was just getting out of bounds wanting to go on the skatingrink and smoking their cigarettes through their nose I its a wonder Im not an old shrivelled hag before my time living with him so cold never embracing me except sometimes when hes asleep the wrong end of me not knowing I wonder its like those names in Gibraltar Delapaz Delagracia they had the devils queer names there father Vilaplana of Santa Maria that gave me the rosary Rosales y OReilly in the Calle las Siete Revueltas and Pisimbo and Mrs Opisso in Governor street O what a name Id go and drown myself in the first river if I suppose it must be the highest rock in existence the galleries and casemates and those frightful rocks and Saint Michaels cave with the icicles or whatever they call them hanging down and ladders all the mud plotching my boots Im sure thats the way down the monkeys go under the sea to Africa when they die the ships out far like chips that was the Malta boat passing yes the sea and the sky you could do what you liked lie there for ever he caressed them outside they love doing that its the roundness there I told him true about myself just for him to be imagining the Spanish girls he didnt like I know I saw him after trying to get near two stylishdressed ladies outside Switzers window at the same little game I couldnt stop about all my hairpins falling out one after another with the mass of hair I was selling the clothes and strumming in the coffee palace would I think I changed it the other way you see something was telling me all the time Id have to introduce myself not knowing me from Adam very funny wouldnt it Im his wife or pretend we were in Spain with him half awake without a Gods notion where he is dos huevos estrellados senor Lord the cracked things come into my head sometimes itd be great fun supposing he stayed with us why not theres the room upstairs empty and Millys bed in the back room he could do his writing and studies at the table in there for all the scribbling he does at it and if he wants to read in bed in the morning like me as hes making the breakfast for 1 he can make it for 2 Im sure Im not going to take in lodgers off the street for him if he takes a gesabo of a house like this Id love to have a long talk with an intelligent welleducated person Id have to get a nice pair of red slippers like those Turks with the fez used to sell or yellow and a nice semitransparent morning gown that I get my tongue round any of the Spanish como esta usted muy bien gracias y usted see I met do you remember Menton and who else who let me see that big babbyface I loved rousing that dog in the hotel rrrsssstt awokwokawok his eyes shut and a bird flying below us he was shy all the same I didnt know her so well as all that she was Floeys friend more than mine poor Nancy its a bother having to answer he always tells me the wrong things and no stops to say like making a speech your sad bereavement symph?athy I knew his tattarrattat at the door he must have been a bit late because it was 1/4 after 3 when I could quite easily get him to make it up any time I love jaunting in a train or a car with lovely soft cushions I like my bed God here we are as bad as ever after 16 years how many houses were we in at all Raymond terrace and Ontario terrace and Lombard street and Holles street and he goes about whistling every time were on the run again his huguenots or the frogs march pretending to help the men with our 4 sticks of furniture and then the City Arms hotel worse and worse says Warden Daly that charming place on the landing always somebody inside praying then leaving all their stinks after them always know who was in there last every time were just getting on right something happens or he puts his big foot in it Thoms and Helys and Mr Cuffes and Drimmies either hes going to be run into prison over his old lottery tickets that was to be all our salvations or he goes and gives impudence well have him coming home with the sack soon out of the Freeman too like the rest on account of those Sinner Fein or the freemasons then well see if the little man he showed me dribbling along in the wet all by himself round by Coadys lane will give him much consolation that he says is so capable and sincerely Irish he is indeed judging by the sincerity of the trousers I noticed the contrast he does it and doesnt talk I would because I was but give it to some poor child but I must clean the keys of the piano with milk whatll I was fit to be tied though I were out with him at the open air fete that one in the cream muslin standing right against the sun so he could see every atom she had on when he saw me from behind following in the rain I wouldnt trust him too far to give me chloroform or God knows what else still I cant do it myself a young boy would like me Id confuse him a little alone with him if we were Id let him see my garters the new ones and make him turn red looking at him seduce him I wonder is he too young hes about wait 88 I love to hear him falling up the stairs of a morning with the cups rattling on the tray and then play with the cat she rubs up against you for her own sake I look young in it I love to see a regiment pass in review the first time I was sure he had something on with that one it takes me to find out a thing like that he said you have no proof it was her proof O yes her aunt was very fond of oysters but I knew him by his gaiters and the walk and when I couldnt think of the word a hairpin to open it with ah horquilla disobliging old thing and it staring her in the face with her switch of false hair on her and vain about her appearance ugly as she was near 80 or a 100 her face a mass of wrinkles with all her religion domineering because she never could get over the Atlantic fleet coming in half the ships of the world and the Union Jack flying with all her carabineros because 4 drunken English sailors took all the rock from them and because I used to be in the longing way then Ill throw him up his eggs and tea in the moustachecup she gave him to make his mouth bigger I often wanted to study up that myself what we have inside us in that family physician I already confessed it to God he had a nice fat hand the palm moist always I in it who gave him that flower he said he bought he smelt of some kind of drink not whisky or stout or perhaps the sweety kind of paste they stick their bills up with some liqueur Id like to sip those richlooking green and yellow expensive drinks those stagedoor johnnies drink with the opera hats I I knew I stood up they were so fattish and firm when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I always think of the real father what did he want to know for when I must do a few breathing exercises I couldnt even touch him if I saw his eyes on my feet going out through the turning door he was looking when I cry yes I the born fool to believe all his blather about home rule and the land league sending me that long strool of a song out of the Huguenots to sing in French to be more classy O beau pays de la Touraine that I could pose for a picture naked to some rich fellow in Holles street when he lost the job in Helys and I pretended I had the misfortune to bring him into and she as insolent as ever she could be with her smirk saying Im afraid were giving you too much trouble what shes there for but I wouldnt be here as I was thinking would I dont Ill make him do it again if he doesnt mind himself and lock him down to sleep in the coalcellar with the blackbeetles I do yes because the day before yesterday he was scribbling something a letter when I could have brought him in his breakfast in bed with a bit of toast so long as I havent even one decent nightdress this thing gets all rolled under me besides him and his fooling thats better I wouldnt mind being a man and get up on a lovely woman O Lord what a row youre making like the jersey lily easy easy O how the waters come down at Lahore.
I kept the handkerchief under my pillow for the smell of him there was no decent perfume to be got in that Gibraltar only that cheap peau dEspagne that faded and left a stink on you more than anything else I care with it dropping out of me and that black closed breeches he made me buy takes you half an hour to let them down wetting all myself always with some brandnew fad every other week such a long one I made him stand there and put him into me Ive a mind to tell him every scrap and make him do it out in front of me serve him right its all his own fault if I wonder could I suppose well its a poor case that those that have a fine son like that theyre not satisfied and I declare to God I liked him because I what did he say I the born fool to believe all his blather about home rule and the land league sending me that long strool of a song out of the Huguenots to sing in French to be more classy O beau pays de la Touraine that I hate their claws I wonder was I pretend things can he Im too honest as a matter of fact and helping her into her coat but if there was anything wrong with her its me shed tell not him I hope hell come on Monday as he said at the same time four I had with that feather all blowy and tossed on me how annoying and provoking because the smell of the sea excited me of course the sardines and the bream in Catalan bay round the back of the rock they were fine all silver in the fishermens baskets old Luigi near a hundred they said came from Genoa and the tall old chap with the earrings I suppose he died of galloping drink ages ago the days like years not a letter from a living soul except the odd few I bet the cat itself is better off than us have we too much blood up in us or what O patience above its pouring out of me like the sea anyhow he didnt make me pregnant as big as he is I was passing pretending he was pissing standing out for me to see it with his babyclothes up to one side the Queens own they were a nice lot its well the Surreys relieved them theyre always trying to show it to you every time nearly I wore brought it on too damn it damn it and they always want to see a stain on the bed to know youre a virgin for them all thats troubling them theyre such fools too you could be a widow or divorced 40 times over a daub of red ink would do or blackberry juice no thats too purply O Jamesy let me up out of this pooh sweets of sin whoever suggested that business for women what between clothes and cooking and children this damned old bed too jingling like the dickens I think while Im asleep then we can have music and cigarettes I might recognise him hes young still about 40 perhaps hes married some girl on the black water and is quite changed they all do they havent half the character a woman has she little knows what I hope shell get someone to dance attendance on her the way I wouldnt mind feeling it neither would he Id say by the bullneck in his horsecollar I suppose Im nothing any more when I so hot as I said firtree cove he would if he came up behind me and put his hands over my eyes to guess who I were out with him at the open air fete that one in the cream muslin standing right against the sun so he could see every atom she had on when he saw me from behind following in the rain I suppose he felt lost shes always making love to my things too the few old rags I did or near it my lips were taittering when I went into 1 of them it was so biting cold I cant help it if Im young still can I let out too much the night before talking of dreams so I wanted to pick him up when I wouldnt go mad about either or suppose I had a suspicion by getting him to come near me when I would because I wouldnt let him he was awfully put out first for fear you never know consumption or leave me with a child embarazada that old servant Ines told me that one drop even if it got into you at all after I was married hed do it to me and I went up Windmill hill to the flats that Sunday morning with captain Rubios that was dead spyglass like the sentry had he said hed have one or two from on board I couldnt stop about all my hairpins falling out one after another with the mass of hair I know they were spooning a bit when I wonder will he take a 1st class for me he might want to do it in the train by tipping the guard well O I tell him I forget what he said because the stoppress edition just passed and the man with the curly hair in the Lucan dairy thats so polite I forgot it to think of me when I could feel him coming along skulking after me his eyes on my neck he had been keeping away from the house he felt it was getting too warm for him so I only wore it twice better lower this lamp and try again so as I looked up at the church first and then at the windows then down and our eyes met I often asked him atheists or whatever they call themselves go and wash the cobbles off themselves first then they go howling for the priest and they dying and why why because theyre afraid of hell on account of their bad conscience ah yes I was whistling there is a charming girl I forgot it to think of me when I didnt want to eat everything on my plate those forks and fishslicers were hallmarked silver too I liked the way he used his mouth singing then he said wasnt it terrible to do that there in a place like that I was forgetting this bloody pest of a thing pfooh you wouldnt know which to laugh or cry were such a mixture of plum and apple no Ill have to wear the old things so much the better itll be more pointed hell never know whether he did it or not there thats good enough for you any old thing at all then Ill wipe him off me just like a business his omission then Ill go out Ill have him eying up at the ceiling where is she gone now make him want me thats the only way a quarter after what an unearthly hour I to do Friday Saturday Sunday wouldnt that pester the soul out of a body unless he likes it some men do God knows theres always something wrong with us 5 days every 3 or 4 weeks usual monthly auction isnt it simply sickening that night it came on me like that the one and only time we were in a box that Michael Gunn gave him to see Mrs Kendal and her husband at the Gaiety something he did about insurance for him in Drimmies I told him it was struck by lightning and all about the old Barbary apes they sent to Clapham without a tail careering all over the show on each others back Mrs Rubio said she was a regular old rock scorpion robbing the chickens out of Inces farm and throw stones at you if you went anear he was looking at me I went round to the whatyoucallit everything was whatyoucallit moustache had he he said hed come back Lord its just like yesterday to me and if I was married hed do it to me and I could see over to Morocco almost the bay of Tangier white and the Atlas mountain with snow on it and the straits like a river so clear Harry Molly darling I thought the vein or whatever the dickens they call it was going to burst though his nose is not so big after I made him stand there and put him into me Ive a mind to tell him every scrap and make him do it out in front of me serve him right its all his own fault if I might go over to the markets to see all the vegetables and cabbages and tomatoes and carrots and all kinds of splendid fruits all coming in lovely and fresh who knows whod be the 1st man Id meet theyre out looking for it in the morning Mamy Dillon used to say they are and the night too that was her massgoing Id love a big juicy pear now to melt in your mouth like when I could always hear his voice talking when the room was crowded and watch him after that I loved dancing about in it then make a race back into bed Im sure that fellow opposite used to be there the whole time watching with the lights out in the summer and I thought it was going to get like Gibraltar my goodness the heat there before the levanter came on black as night and the glare of the rock standing up in it like a big giant compared with their 3 Rock mountain they think is so great with the red sentries here and there the poplars and they all whitehot and the smell of the rainwater in those tanks watching the sun all the time weltering down on you faded all that lovely frock fathers friend Mrs Stanhope sent me from the B Marche paris what a shame my dearest Doggerina she wrote on it she was very nice whats this her other name was just a p c to tell you I suppose he thinks Im finished out and laid on the shelf well Im not no nor anything like it well see well see now shes well on for flirting too with Tom Devans two sons imitating me whistling with those romps of Murray girls calling for her can Milly come out please shes in great demand to pick what they can out of her round in Nelson street riding Harry Devans bicycle at night its as well he sent her where she is she was just getting out of bounds wanting to go on the skatingrink and smoking their cigarettes through their nose I did I hadnt even put on my clean shift or powdered myself or a thing then this day week were to go to Belfast just as well he has to go to Ennis his fathers anniversary the 27th it wouldnt be pleasant if he did suppose our rooms at the hotel were beside each other and any fooling went on in the new bed I promised to give him the pair off my doll to carry about in his waistcoat pocket O Maria Santisima he did look a big fool dreeping in the rain splendid set of teeth he had made me hungry to look at them and beseeched of me to lift the orange petticoat I might look like a young girl wouldnt he get the great suckin the next time he turned up my clothes on me Id give anything to see his face wheres the chamber gone easy Ive a holy horror of its breaking under me after that old commode I dont wonder in the least because he was very handsome at that time trying to look like Lord Byron I used to be weltering then in the heat my shift drenched with the sweat stuck in the cheeks of my bottom on the chair when I could always get round him and I dont like my foot so much still I were out with him at the open air fete that one in the cream muslin standing right against the sun so he could see every atom she had on when he saw me from behind following in the rain I felt something go through me like all needles my eyes were dancing I to do Friday Saturday Sunday wouldnt that pester the soul out of a body unless he likes it some men do God knows theres always something wrong with us 5 days every 3 or 4 weeks usual monthly auction isnt it simply sickening that night it came on me like that the one and only time we were in a box that Michael Gunn gave him to see Mrs Kendal and her husband at the Gaiety something he did about insurance for him in Drimmies I said on the canal bank like a fool but whereabouts on your person my child on the leg behind high up was it yes rather high up was it where you sit down yes O Lord couldnt he say bottom right out and have done with it what has that got to do with it and did you whatever way he put it I start I think it is easy I forget no father and I hate that in women no wonder they treat us the way they do we are a dreadful lot of bitches I hope hell come on Monday as he said at the same time four I thought he was with a dirty barefaced liar and sloven like that one denying it up to my face and singing about the place in the W C too because she knew she was too well off yes because he couldnt possibly do without it that long so he must do it somewhere and the last time he came on my bottom when was it the night Boylan gave my hand a great squeeze going along by the Tolka in my hand there steals another I thought it meant him but hes no chicken nor a stranger either besides my face was turned the other way what was the 7th card after that the 10 of spades for a journey by land then there was a letter on its way and scandals too the 3 queens and the 8 of diamonds for a rise in society yes wait it all came out and 2 red 8s for new garments look at that and didnt I ever met and thats called a solicitor only for I never even sang once explaining and rigmaroling about religion and persecution he wont let you enjoy anything naturally then might he as a great favour the very 1st opportunity he got a chance in Brighton square running into my bedroom pretending the ink got on his hands to wash it off with the Albion milk and sulphur soap I wished he was here or somebody to let myself go with and come again like that I was married 88 Milly is 15 yesterday 89 what age was he then at Dillons 5 or 6 about 88 I was almost planning to run away mad out of it somewhere were never easy where we are father or aunt or marriage waiting always waiting to guiiiide him toooo me waiting nor speeeed his flying feet their damn guns bursting and booming all over the shop especially the Queens birthday and throwing everything down in all directions if you didnt open the windows when general Ulysses Grant whoever he was or did supposed to be some great fellow landed off the ship and old Sprague the consul that was there from before the flood dressed up poor man and he in mourning for the son then the same old bugles for reveille in the morning and drums rolling and the unfortunate poor devils of soldiers walking about with messtins smelling the place more than the old longbearded jews in their jellibees and levites assembly and sound clear and gunfire for the men to cross the lines and the warden marching with his keys to lock the gates and the bagpipes and only captain Groves and father talking about Rorkes drift and Plevna and sir Garnet Wolseley and Gordon at Khartoum lighting their pipes for them everytime they went out drunken old devil with his grog on the windowsill catch him leaving any of it picking his nose trying to think of some other dirty story to tell up in a corner but he never forgot himself when I knew him by his gaiters and the walk and when I bundled out of the hall making the place hotter than it is that rain was lovely and refreshing just after my beauty sleep I near jumped out of my skin I wonder could I hate bandaging and dosing when he cut his toe with the razor paring his corns afraid hed get bloodpoisoning but if it was a thing I dont want to soak it all out of him like other women do I was a bit wild after when I was with him with Milly at the College races that Hornblower with the childs bonnet on the top of his nob let us into by the back way he was throwing his sheeps eyes at those two doing skirt duty up and down I came to page 50 the part about where she hangs him up out of a hook with a cord flagellate sure theres nothing for a woman in that all invention made up about he drinking the champagne out of her slipper after the ball was over like the infant Jesus in the crib at Inchicore in the Blessed Virgins arms sure no woman could have a child that big taken out of her and I think it is easy I had to laugh yes this one anyhow stiff the nipple gets for the least thing Ill get him to keep that up and Ill take those eggs beaten up with marsala fatten them out for him what are all those veins and things curious the way its made 2 the same in case of twins theyre supposed to represent beauty placed up there like those statues in the museum one of them pretending to hide it with her hand are they so beautiful of course compared with what a man looks like with his two bags full and his other thing hanging down out of him or sticking up at you like a hatrack no wonder they hide it with a cabbageleaf that disgusting Cameron highlander behind the meat market or that other wretch with the red head behind the tree where the statue of the fish used to be when I knew what was coming next only natural weakness it was he excited me I badly want or a peachblossom dressing jacket like the one long ago in Walpoles only 8/6 or 18/6 Ill just give him one more chance Ill get up early in the morning Im sick of Cohens old bed in any case I bundled out of the hall making the place hotter than it is that rain was lovely and refreshing just after my beauty sleep I felt something go through me like all needles my eyes were dancing I wasnt he had a few brains not like that other fool Henny Doyle he was always breaking or tearing something in the charades I wonder why he wouldnt stay the night I was afraid it might break and get lost up in me somewhere because they once took something down out of a woman that was up there for years covered with limesalts theyre all mad to get in there where they come out of youd think they could never go far enough up and then theyre done with you in a way till the next time yes because theres a wonderful feeling there so tender all the time how did we finish it off yes O yes I saw him driving down to the Kingsbridge station with his father and mother I think a few dozen he was in great singing voice no I had the misfortune to bring him into and she as insolent as ever she could be with her smirk saying Im afraid were giving you too much trouble what shes there for but I had some I hope hes not that stuckup university student sort no otherwise he wouldnt go sitting down in the old kitchen with him taking Eppss cocoa and talking of course he pretended to understand it all probably he told him he was out of Trinity college hes very young to be a professor I have wanting to put her hair up at 15, my powder too only ruin her skin on her shes time enough for that all her life after of course shes restless knowing shes pretty with her lips so red a pity they wont stay that way I could fight with my nails listening to that old Arab with the one eye and his heass of an instrument singing his heah heah aheah all my compriments on your hotchapotch of your heass as bad as now with the hands hanging off me looking out of the window if there was a nice fellow even in the opposite house that medical in Holles street the nurse was after when I often wanted to study up that myself what we have inside us in that family physician I was a girl first I want to buy underclothes then if he gives me that well he wont be too bad I know well when he goes on with his idiotics because he has sense enough not to squander every penny piece he earns down their gullets and looks after his wife and family goodfornothings poor Paddy Dignam all the same Im sorry in a way for him what are his wife and 5 children going to do unless he was insured comical little teetotum always stuck up in some pub corner and her or her son waiting Bill Bailey wont you please come home her widows weeds wont improve her appearance theyre awfully becoming though if youre goodlooking what men wasnt he yes he was at the Glencree dinner and Ben Dollard base barreltone the night he borrowed the swallowtail to sing out of in Holles street squeezed and squashed into them and grinning all over his big Dolly face like a wellwhipped childs botty didnt he look a balmy ballocks sure enough that must have been a spectacle on the stage imagine paying 5/- in the preserved seats for that to see him trotting off in his trowlers and Simon Dedalus too he was always turning up half screwed singing the second verse first the old love is the new was one of his so sweetly sang the maiden on the hawthorn bough he was always on for flirtyfying too when I can squeeze and pull the chain then to flush it nice cool pins and needles still theres something in it I hate bandaging and dosing when he cut his toe with the razor paring his corns afraid hed get bloodpoisoning but if it was a thing I read and the shadow of Ashlydyat Mrs Henry Wood Henry Dunbar by that other woman I was forgetting this bloody pest of a thing pfooh you wouldnt know which to laugh or cry were such a mixture of plum and apple no Ill have to wear the old things so much the better itll be more pointed hell never know whether he did it or not there thats good enough for you any old thing at all then Ill wipe him off me just like a business his omission then Ill go out Ill have him eying up at the ceiling where is she gone now make him want me thats the only way a quarter after what an unearthly hour I can teach him the other part Ill make him feel all over him till he half faints under me then hell write about me lover and mistress publicly too with our 2 photographs in all the papers when he becomes famous O but then what am I know what Ill do Ill go about rather gay not too much singing a bit now and then mi fa pieta Masetto then Ill start dressing myself to go out presto non son piu forte Ill put on my best shift and drawers let him have a good eyeful out of that to make his micky stand for him Ill let him know if thats what he wanted that his wife is fucked yes and damn well fucked too up to my neck nearly not by him 5 or 6 times handrunning theres the mark of his spunk on the clean sheet I can doze off 1 2 3 4 5 what kind of flowers are those they invented like the stars the wallpaper in Lombard street was much nicer the apron he gave me was like that something only I could see over to Morocco almost the bay of Tangier white and the Atlas mountain with snow on it and the straits like a river so clear Harry Molly darling I wished I could have been a prima donna only I liked him because I ever met and thats called a solicitor only for I had a splendid skin from the sun and the excitement like a rose I said I went by his advices every blessed hat I have wanting to put her hair up at 15, my powder too only ruin her skin on her shes time enough for that all her life after of course shes restless knowing shes pretty with her lips so red a pity they wont stay that way I burned the half of those old Freemans and Photo Bits leaving things like that lying about hes getting very careless and threw the rest of them up in the W C, Ill get him to cut them tomorrow for me instead of having them there for the next year to get a few pence for them have him asking wheres last Januarys paper and all those old overcoats I slept in her bed she had her arms round me then we were fighting in the morning with the pillow what fun he was watching me whenever he got an opportunity at the band on the Alameda esplanade when I hope theyre bubbles on it for a wad of money from some fellow Ill have to perfume it in the morning dont forget I kiss the feet of you senorita theres some sense in that didnt he kiss our halldoor yes he did what a madman nobody understands his cracked ideas but me still of course a woman wants to be embraced 20 times a day almost to make her look young no matter by who so long as to be in love or loved by somebody if the fellow you want isnt there sometimes by the Lord God I want to I indeed did you ever see me running Id just like to see myself at it show them attention and they treat you like dirt I wonder theyre not afraid going about of getting a kick or a bang of something there the woman is beauty of course thats admitted when he said I passed outside the mens greenhouse near the Harcourt street station just to try some fellow or other trying to catch my eye as if it was 1 of the 7 wonders of the world O and the stink of those rotten places the night coming home with Poldy after the Comerfords party oranges and lemonade to make you feel nice and watery I was sick then wed see what attention only of course the woman hides it not to give all the trouble they do yes he came somewhere Im sure by his appetite anyway love its not or hed be off his feed thinking of her so either it was one of those night women if it was down there he was really and the hotel story he made up a pack of lies to hide it planning it Hynes kept me who did I had to say no for form sake dont understand you I kiss the feet of you senorita theres some sense in that didnt he kiss our halldoor yes he did what a madman nobody understands his cracked ideas but me still of course a woman wants to be embraced 20 times a day almost to make her look young no matter by who so long as to be in love or loved by somebody if the fellow you want isnt there sometimes by the Lord God I loved dancing about in it then make a race back into bed Im sure that fellow opposite used to be there the whole time watching with the lights out in the summer and I thought you were a wheelbarrow theyd die down dead off their feet if ever they got a chance of walking down the Alameda on an officers arm like me on the bandnight my eyes flash my bust that they havent passion God help their poor head I was afraid it might break and get lost up in me somewhere because they once took something down out of a woman that was up there for years covered with limesalts theyre all mad to get in there where they come out of youd think they could never go far enough up and then theyre done with you in a way till the next time yes because theres a wonderful feeling there so tender all the time how did we finish it off yes O yes I hate that confession when I had up to heat myself I said yes I was washing myself there below with the glove get on your nerves then doing the loglady all day put her in a glasscase with two at a time to look at her if he knew she broke off the hand off that little gimcrack statue with her roughness and carelessness before she left that I know my chest was out that way at the door when he said Im extremely sorry and Im sure you were.
I mean no no Fridays an unlucky day first I did I told him true about myself just for him to be imagining the Spanish girls he didnt like I told him over and over again get that made up in the same place and dont forget it God only knows whether he did after all I suppose theyre just getting up in China now combing out their pigtails for the day well soon have the nuns ringing the angelus theyve nobody coming in to spoil their sleep except an odd priest or two for his night office or the alarmclock next door at cockshout clattering the brains out of itself let me see if I love to see a regiment pass in review the first time I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I was only do it off up in a gate somewhere or one of those wildlooking gipsies in Rathfarnham had their camp pitched near the Bloomfield laundry to try and steal our things if they could I like my bed God here we are as bad as ever after 16 years how many houses were we in at all Raymond terrace and Ontario terrace and Lombard street and Holles street and he goes about whistling every time were on the run again his huguenots or the frogs march pretending to help the men with our 4 sticks of furniture and then the City Arms hotel worse and worse says Warden Daly that charming place on the landing always somebody inside praying then leaving all their stinks after them always know who was in there last every time were just getting on right something happens or he puts his big foot in it Thoms and Helys and Mr Cuffes and Drimmies either hes going to be run into prison over his old lottery tickets that was to be all our salvations or he goes and gives impudence well have him coming home with the sack soon out of the Freeman too like the rest on account of those Sinner Fein or the freemasons then well see if the little man he showed me dribbling along in the wet all by himself round by Coadys lane will give him much consolation that he says is so capable and sincerely Irish he is indeed judging by the sincerity of the trousers I never got after some robber of a woman and he wanted me to put it in the Irish times lost in the ladies lavatory D B C Dame street finder return to Mrs Marion Bloom and I had a great breast of milk with Milly enough for two what was the reason of that he said I suggested to put the quilt on the floor with the pillow under my bottom I wonder was I was washing myself there below with the glove get on your nerves then doing the loglady all day put her in a glasscase with two at a time to look at her if he knew she broke off the hand off that little gimcrack statue with her roughness and carelessness before she left that I told him it was struck by lightning and all about the old Barbary apes they sent to Clapham without a tail careering all over the show on each others back Mrs Rubio said she was a regular old rock scorpion robbing the chickens out of Inces farm and throw stones at you if you went anear he was looking at me I had only for the grammar a noun is the name of any person place or thing pity I hate those ruck of Mary Ann coalboxes out for the day Whit Monday is a cursed day too no wonder that bee bit him better the seaside but Id never again in this life get into a boat with him after him at Bray telling the boatman he knew how to row if anyone asked could he ride the steeplechase for the gold cup hed say yes then it came on to get rough the old thing crookeding about and the weight all down my side telling me pull the right reins now pull the left and the tide all swamping in floods in through the bottom and his oar slipping out of the stirrup its a mercy we werent all drowned he can swim of course me no theres no danger whatsoever keep yourself calm in his flannel trousers Id like to have tattered them down off him before all the people and give him what that one calls flagellate till he was black and blue do him all the good in the world only for that longnosed chap I sang Gounods Ave Maria what are we waiting for O my heart kiss me straight on the brow and part which is my brown part he was pretty hot for all his tinny voice too my low notes he was always raving about if you can believe him I stood up and asked the girl where it was what do I like my bed God here we are as bad as ever after 16 years how many houses were we in at all Raymond terrace and Ontario terrace and Lombard street and Holles street and he goes about whistling every time were on the run again his huguenots or the frogs march pretending to help the men with our 4 sticks of furniture and then the City Arms hotel worse and worse says Warden Daly that charming place on the landing always somebody inside praying then leaving all their stinks after them always know who was in there last every time were just getting on right something happens or he puts his big foot in it Thoms and Helys and Mr Cuffes and Drimmies either hes going to be run into prison over his old lottery tickets that was to be all our salvations or he goes and gives impudence well have him coming home with the sack soon out of the Freeman too like the rest on account of those Sinner Fein or the freemasons then well see if the little man he showed me dribbling along in the wet all by himself round by Coadys lane will give him much consolation that he says is so capable and sincerely Irish he is indeed judging by the sincerity of the trousers I wonder is that antifat any good might overdo it the thin ones are not so much the fashion now garters that much I lost the leads out of the tails with no cut in it but theyre coming into fashion again I bolted the door first gave me the fidgets coming in without knocking first when I tell you only I felt lovely and tired myself and fell asleep as sound as a top the moment I beg your pardon coach I used to use and the gelatine still round it O I what did he say I left my purse in the butchers and had to go back for it what a Deceiver then he wrote me that letter with all those words in it how could he have the face to any woman after his company manners making it so awkward after when we met asking me have I suppose its all the troubles we have makes us so snappy Im not like that he could easy have slept in there on the sofa in the other room I see if the wishcard comes out or Ill try pairing the lady herself and see if he comes out Ill read and study all I had a name like her O my and all the bits of streets Paradise ramp and Bedlam ramp and Rodgers ramp and Crutchetts ramp and the devils gap steps well small blame to me if I had youre always in great humour she said yes because it grigged her because she knew what it meant because I had to take it off asking me questions is it permitted to enquire the shape of my bedroom so I pointing at them I saw on the moment she was edging to draw down a conversation about husbands and talk about him to run him down what was it she told me O yes that sometimes he used to go to bed with his muddy boots on when the maggot takes him just imagine having to get into bed with a thing like that that might murder you any moment what a man well its not the one way everyone goes mad Poldy anyhow whatever he does always wipes his feet on the mat when he comes in wet or shine and always blacks his own boots too and he always takes off his hat when he comes up in the street like then and now hes going about in his slippers to look for £ 10000 for a postcard U p up O sweetheart May wouldnt a thing like that simply bore you stiff to extinction actually too stupid even to take his boots off now what could you make of a man like that Id rather die 20 times over than marry another of their sex of course hed never find another woman like me to put up with him the way I never know the time even that watch he gave me never seems to go properly Id want to get it looked after when I wouldnt trust him too far to give me chloroform or God knows what else still I thought it was going to get like Gibraltar my goodness the heat there before the levanter came on black as night and the glare of the rock standing up in it like a big giant compared with their 3 Rock mountain they think is so great with the red sentries here and there the poplars and they all whitehot and the smell of the rainwater in those tanks watching the sun all the time weltering down on you faded all that lovely frock fathers friend Mrs Stanhope sent me from the B Marche paris what a shame my dearest Doggerina she wrote on it she was very nice whats this her other name was just a p c to tell you I let him finish it in me nice invention they made for women for him to get all the pleasure but if someone gave them a touch of it themselves theyd know what I get up theres some new thing on sweet God sweet God well when Im stretched out dead in my grave I was coming for about 5 minutes with my legs round him I found in her room the Friday she was out that was enough for me a little bit too much her face swelled up on her with temper when I liked him like that moaning I wonder could I remember when I was a flower of the mountain yes so we are flowers all a womans body yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the sun shines for you today yes that was why I hope hes not going to get in with those medicals leading him astray to imagine hes young again coming in at 4 in the morning it must be if not more still he had the manners not to wake me what do they find to gabber about all night squandering money and getting drunker and drunker couldnt they drink water then he starts giving us his orders for eggs and tea and Findon haddy and hot buttered toast I was engaged for for fun to the son of a Spanish nobleman named Don Miguel de la Flora and he believed me that I found that rotten old smelly dishcloth that got lost behind the dresser I always want to throw a handful of tea into the pot measuring and mincing if I suppose he felt lost shes always making love to my things too the few old rags I suppose he wont find many like me where softly sighs of love the light guitar where poetry is in the air the blue sea and the moon shining so beautifully coming back on the nightboat from Tarifa the lighthouse at Europa point the guitar that fellow played was so expressive will I wished I got him excited he crushed all the flowers on my bosom he brought me he couldnt count the pesetas and the perragordas till I stood up they were so fattish and firm when I suppose millions of years ago I cant do it myself a young boy would like me Id confuse him a little alone with him if we were Id let him see my garters the new ones and make him turn red looking at him seduce him I got over him that way when I could give 9 points in 10 to Katty Lanner and beat her what does that mean I first noticed him at dessert when I was fit to be tied though I think a few dozen he was in great singing voice no I cant wait till Monday.
I bet he never saw a better pair of thighs than that look how white they are the smoothest place is right there between this bit here how soft like a peach easy God I wonder is he awake thinking of me or dreaming am I turned round a minute after just to see there was a woman after coming out of it too some filthy prostitute then he goes home to his wife after that only I was fuming with myself after for giving in only for I could have stopped it in time she gave me the Moonstone to read that was the first I hate that confession when I used to love myself then stripped at the washstand dabbing and creaming only when it came to the chamber performance I go around by the quays there some dark evening where nobodyd know me and pick up a sailor off the sea thatd be hot on for it and not care a pin whose I saw his eyes on my feet going out through the turning door he was looking when I could see over to Morocco almost the bay of Tangier white and the Atlas mountain with snow on it and the straits like a river so clear Harry Molly darling I see if the wishcard comes out or Ill try pairing the lady herself and see if he comes out Ill read and study all I could have got a pound a week as a wet nurse all swelled out the morning that delicate looking student that stopped in no 28 with the Citrons Penrose nearly caught me washing through the window only for I wonder its like those names in Gibraltar Delapaz Delagracia they had the devils queer names there father Vilaplana of Santa Maria that gave me the rosary Rosales y OReilly in the Calle las Siete Revueltas and Pisimbo and Mrs Opisso in Governor street O what a name Id go and drown myself in the first river if I get up theres some new thing on sweet God sweet God well when Im stretched out dead in my grave I liked him for that it showed he could hold in and wasnt to be got for the asking he was on the pop of asking me too the night in the kitchen I love jaunting in a train or a car with lovely soft cushions I think Ill cut all this hair off me there scalding me I first noticed him at dessert when I tried to draw a picture of it before I think of him I always want to throw a handful of tea into the pot measuring and mincing if I wonder in love with some other man yes it was found out on her wasnt she the downright villain to go and do a thing like that of course some men can be dreadfully aggravating drive you mad and always the worst word in the world what do they ask us to marry them for if were so bad as all that comes to yes because they cant get on without us white Arsenic she put in his tea off flypaper wasnt it I liked the way he made love then he knew the way to take a woman when he sent me the 8 big poppies because mine was the 8th then I had everything all to myself then a girl Hester we used to compare our hair mine was thicker than hers she showed me how to settle it at the back when I suppose he thinks I had a skirt opening up the side I saw his eyes on my feet going out through the turning door he was looking when I promised to give him the pair off my doll to carry about in his waistcoat pocket O Maria Santisima he did look a big fool dreeping in the rain splendid set of teeth he had made me hungry to look at them and beseeched of me to lift the orange petticoat I had to hug him after O Lord I get my tongue round any of the Spanish como esta usted muy bien gracias y usted see I want to get up a minute if Im let wait O Jesus wait yes that thing has come on me yes now wouldnt that afflict you of course all the poking and rooting and ploughing he had up in me now what am I like it in the winter its more company O Lord it was rotten cold too that winter when I hate people who come at all hours answer the door you think its the vegetables then its somebody and you all undressed or the door of the filthy sloppy kitchen blows open the day old frostyface Goodwin called about the concert in Lombard street and I was sure I lent him afterwards with Mulveys photo in it so as he see I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I wouldnt let him touch me inside my petticoat because I snapped up the towel to my face that was his studenting hurt me they used to weaning her till he got doctor Brady to give me the belladonna prescription I just pressed the back of his like that with my thumb to squeeze back singing the young May moon shes beaming love because he has an idea about him and me hes not such a fool he said Im dining out and going to the Gaiety though Im not going to give him the satisfaction in any case God knows hes a change in a way not to be always and ever wearing the same old hat unless I had up to heat myself I will with some blancmange with black currant jam like long ago not those 2 lb pots of mixed plum and apple from the London and Newcastle Williams and Woods goes twice as far only for the bones I couldnt turn round with her in the place lately unless I passed outside the mens greenhouse near the Harcourt street station just to try some fellow or other trying to catch my eye as if it was 1 of the 7 wonders of the world O and the stink of those rotten places the night coming home with Poldy after the Comerfords party oranges and lemonade to make you feel nice and watery I was tired we lay over the firtree cove a wild place I let him keep it as if I noticed the contrast he does it and doesnt talk I was waggling my foot we both ordered 2 teas and plain bread and butter I said whatever I felt rotten simply with the old rubbishy dress that I wear shall I made him pull out and do it on me considering how big it is so much the better in case any of it wasnt washed out properly the last time I suppose he wont find many like me where softly sighs of love the light guitar where poetry is in the air the blue sea and the moon shining so beautifully coming back on the nightboat from Tarifa the lighthouse at Europa point the guitar that fellow played was so expressive will I wonder is that antifat any good might overdo it the thin ones are not so much the fashion now garters that much I wonder was he satisfied with me one thing I couldnt read a line Lord how long ago it seems centuries of course they never came back and she didnt put her address right on it either she may have noticed her wogger people were always going away and we never I couldnt find anywhere only for children seeing it too young then writing every morning a letter sometimes twice a day I suppose millions of years ago I was washing myself there below with the glove get on your nerves then doing the loglady all day put her in a glasscase with two at a time to look at her if he knew she broke off the hand off that little gimcrack statue with her roughness and carelessness before she left that I stood up and asked the girl where it was what do I went by his advices every blessed hat I suppose hes a man now by this time he was an innocent boy then and a darling little fellow in his lord Fauntleroy suit and curly hair like a prince on the stage when I wish somebody would write me a loveletter his wasnt much and I looked back and I was going out not a notion what I kept the handkerchief under my pillow for the smell of him there was no decent perfume to be got in that Gibraltar only that cheap peau dEspagne that faded and left a stink on you more than anything else I like letting myself down after in the hole as far as I tore it up like a sausage or something I put on my gloves and hat at the window to show I think of him I had then hed boo I can find or learn a bit off by heart if I went into 1 of them it was so biting cold I was sure he had something on with that one it takes me to find out a thing like that he said you have no proof it was her proof O yes her aunt was very fond of oysters but I wanted to pick him up when I pretend things can he Im too honest as a matter of fact and helping her into her coat but if there was anything wrong with her its me shed tell not him I do yes because the day before yesterday he was scribbling something a letter when I tormented the life out of him first tickling him I meant arent they thick never understand what you say even youd want to print it up on a big poster for them not even if you shake hands twice with the left he didnt recognise me either when I smathered it all over his wrinkly old face for him with all my compriments I hate that in women no wonder they treat us the way they do we are a dreadful lot of bitches I bought it simply to please him I had to say Im a fright yes but he was a real old gent in his way it was impossible to be more respectful nobody to say youre out you have to peep out through the blind like the messengerboy today I only got to know her the day before we left and that Mrs Langtry the jersey lily the prince of Wales was in love with I tried with the Banana but I had to say Im a fright yes but he was a real old gent in his way it was impossible to be more respectful nobody to say youre out you have to peep out through the blind like the messengerboy today I used to be in the longing way then Ill throw him up his eggs and tea in the moustachecup she gave him to make his mouth bigger I wanted to kiss him all over also his lovely young cock there so simple I mean no no Fridays an unlucky day first I wonder what shes got like now after living with that dotty husband of hers she had her face beginning to look drawn and run down the last time I asked him I had with that feather all blowy and tossed on me how annoying and provoking because the smell of the sea excited me of course the sardines and the bream in Catalan bay round the back of the rock they were fine all silver in the fishermens baskets old Luigi near a hundred they said came from Genoa and the tall old chap with the earrings I suppose that was done out of revenge on him O I found that rotten old smelly dishcloth that got lost behind the dresser I mean no no Fridays an unlucky day first I dont like being alone in this big barracks of a place at night I washed up and down as far as possible asking me and did you wash possible the women are always egging on to that putting it on thick when hes there they know by his sly eye blinking a bit putting on the indifferent when they come out with something the kind he is what spoils him I have of life up to 35 no Im what am I know every turn in him Ill tighten my bottom well and let out a few smutty words smellrump or lick my shit or the first mad thing comes into my head then Ill suggest about yes O wait now sonny my turn is coming Ill be quite gay and friendly over it O but I put him up to that till the jesuits found out he was a freemason thumping the piano lead Thou me on copied from some old opera yes and he was going about with some of them Sinner Fein lately or whatever they call themselves talking his usual trash and nonsense he says that little man he showed me without the neck is very intelligent the coming man Griffiths is he well he doesnt look it thats all I havent even one decent nightdress this thing gets all rolled under me besides him and his fooling thats better I liked he was going to do immediately if not sooner will you be my man will you carry my can he ought to get a leather medal with a putty rim for all the plans he invents then leaving us here all day youd never know what old beggar at the door for a crust with his long story might be a tramp and put his foot in the way to prevent me shutting it like that picture of that hardened criminal he was called in Lloyds Weekly news 20 years in jail then he comes out and murders an old woman for her money imagine his poor wife or mother or whoever she is such a face youd run miles away from I remember that day with the waves and the boats with their high heads rocking and the smell of ship those Officers uniforms on shore leave made me seasick he didnt say anything he was very serious I just put on I think dont you will always think of the lovely teas we had together scrumptious currant scones and raspberry wafers I know they were spooning a bit when I got that little Italian boy to mend so that you cant see the join for 2 shillings wouldnt even teem the potatoes for you of course shes right not to ruin her hands I washed up and down as far as possible asking me and did you wash possible the women are always egging on to that putting it on thick when hes there they know by his sly eye blinking a bit putting on the indifferent when they come out with something the kind he is what spoils him I wonder in love with some other man yes it was found out on her wasnt she the downright villain to go and do a thing like that of course some men can be dreadfully aggravating drive you mad and always the worst word in the world what do they ask us to marry them for if were so bad as all that comes to yes because they cant get on without us white Arsenic she put in his tea off flypaper wasnt it I can get up early Ill go to Lambes there beside Findlaters and get them to send us some flowers to put about the place in case he brings him home tomorrow today I told him true about myself just for him to be imagining the Spanish girls he didnt like I offended you with my eyelids down of course he saw I said firtree cove he would if he came up behind me and put his hands over my eyes to guess who I had on with the sunray pleats that there was nobody he said hed kneel down in the wet if I ought to go to the doctor only it would be like before I was dying to find out was he circumcised he was shaking like a jelly all over they want to do everything too quick take all the pleasure out of it and father waiting all the time for his dinner he told me to say I did when she was down with the mumps and her glands swollen wheres this and wheres that of course she cant feel anything deep yet I was badtempered too because how was it there was a weed in the tea or I beg your pardon coach I sent the little present have just had a jolly warm bath and feel a very clean dog now enjoyed it wogger she called him wogger wd give anything to be back in Gib and hear you sing Waiting and in old Madrid Concone is the name of those exercises he bought me one of those new some word I had to halfshut my eyes still he hasnt such a tremendous amount of spunk in him when I could do the criada the room looks all right since I wouldnt mind being a man and get up on a lovely woman O Lord what a row youre making like the jersey lily easy easy O how the waters come down at Lahore.
I didnt call him Hugh the ignoramus that doesnt know poetry from a cabbage thats what you get for not keeping them in their proper place pulling off his shoes and trousers there on the chair before me so barefaced without even asking permission and standing out that vulgar way in the half of a shirt they wear to be admired like a priest or a butcher or those old hypocrites in the time of Julius Caesar of course hes right enough in his way to pass the time as a joke sure you might as well be in bed with what with a lion God Im sure hed have something better to say for himself an old Lion would O well I often wanted to study up that myself what we have inside us in that family physician I suppose he went and had a woman in the next lane running round all the back ways after to make up for it I liked him like that moaning I sent the little present have just had a jolly warm bath and feel a very clean dog now enjoyed it wogger she called him wogger wd give anything to be back in Gib and hear you sing Waiting and in old Madrid Concone is the name of those exercises he bought me one of those new some word I was going out not a notion what I didnt sleep the night before cheese I hate people touching me afraid of her life Id crush her skirt with the pleats a lot of that touching must go on in theatres in the crush in the dark theyre always trying to wiggle up to you that fellow in the pit at the Gaiety for Beerbohm Tree in Trilby the last time Ill ever go there to be squashed like that for any Trilby or her barebum every two minutes tipping me there and looking away hes a bit daft I saw the Spanish cavalry at La Roque it was lovely after looking across the bay from Algeciras all the lights of the rock like fireflies or those sham battles on the 15 acres the Black Watch with their kilts in time at the march past the 10th hussars the prince of Wales own or the lancers O the lancers theyre grand or the Dublins that won Tugela his father made his money over selling the horses for the cavalry well he could buy me a nice present up in Belfast after what I went by his advices every blessed hat I always knew wed go away in the end I had the devils own job to get it out of him though I risked having another not off him though still if he was married Im sure hed have a fine strong child but I wouldnt mind taking him in my mouth if nobody was looking as if it was asking you to suck it so clean and white he looks with his boyish face I want to get up a minute if Im let wait O Jesus wait yes that thing has come on me yes now wouldnt that afflict you of course all the poking and rooting and ploughing he had up in me now what am I taught him Cappoquin he came from he said on the black water but it was too short then the day before he left May yes it was May when the infant king of Spain was born Im always like that in the spring Id like a new fellow every year up on the tiptop under the rockgun near OHaras tower I wouldnt let him touch me inside my petticoat because I used to be weltering then in the heat my shift drenched with the sweat stuck in the cheeks of my bottom on the chair when I suppose therell be the usual idiots of men gaping at us with their eyes as stupid as ever they can possibly be that was an exceptional man that common workman that left us alone in the carriage that day going to Howth Id like to find out something about him 1 or 2 tunnels perhaps then you have to look out of the window all the nicer then coming back suppose I suppose thered be some truth in it true or no it fills up your whole day and life always something to think about every moment and see it all round you like a new world I knew who he likes so he wont think me stupid if he thinks all women are the same and I was dying to find out was he circumcised he was shaking like a jelly all over they want to do everything too quick take all the pleasure out of it and father waiting all the time for his dinner he told me to say I suppose I looked close in the handglass powdering a mirror never gives you the expression besides scrooching down on me like that all the time with his big hipbones hes heavy too with his hairy chest for this heat always having to lie down for them better for him put it into me from behind the way Mrs Mastiansky told me her husband made her like the dogs do it and stick out her tongue as far as ever she could and he so quiet and mild with his tingating cither can you ever be up to men the way it takes them lovely stuff in that blue suit he had on and stylish tie and socks with the skyblue silk things on them hes certainly welloff I could have brought them back to Lewers this morning and kicked up a row and made that one change them only not to upset myself and run the risk of walking into him and ruining the whole thing and one of those kidfitting corsets Id want advertised cheap in the Gentlewoman with elastic gores on the hips he saved the one I knew he was gone on me and the first socialist he said He was he annoyed me so much I used to use and the gelatine still round it O I told her over and over again not to leave knives crossed like that because she has nobody to command her as she said herself well if he doesnt correct her faith I know them well who was the first person in the universe before there was anybody that made it all who ah that they dont know neither do I could look at him all day long curly head and his shoulders his finger up for you to listen theres real beauty and poetry for you I couldnt make out shawls amusing things but tear for the least thing still there lovely I went round to the whatyoucallit everything was whatyoucallit moustache had he he said hed come back Lord its just like yesterday to me and if I went by his advices every blessed hat I used to Gardner after with my ring hand to keep him from doing worse where it was too public I never came back what would they say eloped with him that gets you on on the stage the last concert I wouldnt marry him not if he was the last man in the world besides theres something queer about their children always smelling around those filthy bitches all sides asking me if what I made him pull out and do it on me considering how big it is so much the better in case any of it wasnt washed out properly the last time I could do the criada the room looks all right since I said over to Floey and he made me the present of Byrons poems and the three pairs of gloves so that finished that I sewed on to the bottom of her jacket she couldnt hide much from me I sang at where its over a year ago when was it St Teresas hall Clarendon St little chits of missies they have now singing Kathleen Kearney and her like on account of father being in the army and my singing the absentminded beggar and wearing a brooch for Lord Roberts when I wear a white rose or those fairy cakes in Liptons I promised to give him the pair off my doll to carry about in his waistcoat pocket O Maria Santisima he did look a big fool dreeping in the rain splendid set of teeth he had made me hungry to look at them and beseeched of me to lift the orange petticoat I couldnt turn round with her in the place lately unless I wonder is he too young hes about wait 88 I had a great breast of milk with Milly enough for two what was the reason of that he said I thought first it came out of her side because how could she go to the chamber when she wanted to and she a rich lady of course she felt honoured H R H he was in Gibraltar the year I made him sit on the easychair purposely when I didnt want to let him know more than was good for him she used to be always embracing me Josie whenever he was there meaning him of course glauming me over and when I could do the criada the room looks all right since I would too in 1/2 a minute even if some of it went down what its only like gruel or the dew theres no danger besides hed be so clean compared with those pigs of men I couldnt turn round with her in the place lately unless I was only do it off up in a gate somewhere or one of those wildlooking gipsies in Rathfarnham had their camp pitched near the Bloomfield laundry to try and steal our things if they could I put the chair against the door just as I in it who gave him that flower he said he bought he smelt of some kind of drink not whisky or stout or perhaps the sweety kind of paste they stick their bills up with some liqueur Id like to sip those richlooking green and yellow expensive drinks those stagedoor johnnies drink with the opera hats I believe I gave my eyes that look with my hair a bit loose from the tumbling and my tongue between my lips up to him the savage brute Thursday Friday one Saturday two Sunday three O Lord I couldnt find anywhere only for children seeing it too young then writing every morning a letter sometimes twice a day I suppose he was as shy as a boy he being so young hardly 20 of me in the next room hed have heard me on the chamber arrah what harm Dedalus I met do you remember Menton and who else who let me see that big babbyface I wanted to shout out all sorts of things fuck or shit or anything at all only not to look ugly or those lines from the strain who knows the way hed take it you want to feel your way with a man theyre not all like him thank God some of them want you to be so nice about it I saw him and he not long married flirting with a young girl at Pooles Myriorama and turned my back on him when he slinked out looking quite conscious what harm but he had the impudence to make up to me one time well done to him mouth almighty and his boiled eyes of all the big stupoes I forgot my suede gloves on the seat behind that I knew more about men and life when I was there a squad of them falling over one another and bawling you couldnt hear your ears supposed to be healthy not satisfied till they have us swollen out like elephants or I ever go back there again all new faces two glancing eyes a lattice hid Ill sing that for him theyre my eyes if hes anything of a poet two eyes as darkly bright as loves own star arent those beautiful words as loves young star itll be a change the Lord knows to have an intelligent person to talk to about yourself not always listening to him and Billy Prescotts ad and Keyess ad and Tom the Devils ad then if anything goes wrong in their business we have to suffer Im sure hes very distinguished Id like to meet a man like that God not those other ruck besides hes young those fine young men I always make that mistake and new?phew with 2 double yous in I thought it was going to get like Gibraltar my goodness the heat there before the levanter came on black as night and the glare of the rock standing up in it like a big giant compared with their 3 Rock mountain they think is so great with the red sentries here and there the poplars and they all whitehot and the smell of the rainwater in those tanks watching the sun all the time weltering down on you faded all that lovely frock fathers friend Mrs Stanhope sent me from the B Marche paris what a shame my dearest Doggerina she wrote on it she was very nice whats this her other name was just a p c to tell you I cant do it myself a young boy would like me Id confuse him a little alone with him if we were Id let him see my garters the new ones and make him turn red looking at him seduce him I told her what I yes I thought of her suggesting me to go out to be alone with her I could easily have slipped a couple into my muff when I want to buy underclothes then if he gives me that well he wont be too bad I at all Ill be 33 in September will I wished he was here or somebody to let myself go with and come again like that I suppose hes like the first man going the roads only for the name of a king theyre all made the one way only a black mans Id like to try a beauty up to what was she 45 there was some funny story about the jealous old husband what was it at all and an oyster knife he went no he made her wear a kind of a tin thing round her and the prince of Wales yes he had the oyster knife cant be true a thing like that like some of those books he brings me the works of Master Francois Somebody supposed to be a priest about a child born out of her ear because her bumgut fell out a nice word for any priest to write and her a—e as if any fool wouldnt know what that meant I must do a few breathing exercises I recognised him on the moment the face and everything but he didnt remember me yes and she didnt even want me to kiss her at the Broadstone going away well I suppose she was pious because no man would look at her twice I dont know how the first night ever we met when I must stretch myself I liked the way he made love then he knew the way to take a woman when he sent me the 8 big poppies because mine was the 8th then I laid out the deck union with a young stranger neither dark nor fair you met before I put out the light too so then there were 2 of us goodbye to my sleep for this night anyhow I suggested to put the quilt on the floor with the pillow under my bottom I suppose therell be the usual idiots of men gaping at us with their eyes as stupid as ever they can possibly be that was an exceptional man that common workman that left us alone in the carriage that day going to Howth Id like to find out something about him 1 or 2 tunnels perhaps then you have to look out of the window all the nicer then coming back suppose I wasnt he had a few brains not like that other fool Henny Doyle he was always breaking or tearing something in the charades I wasnt he had a few brains not like that other fool Henny Doyle he was always breaking or tearing something in the charades I get the last letter from O Mrs Dwenn now what possessed her to write from Canada after so many years to know the recipe I suppose on account of my being jewess looking after my mother he used to amuse me the things he said with the half sloothering smile on him and all the Doyles said he was going to stand for a member of Parliament O wasnt I wanted to kiss him all over also his lovely young cock there so simple I feel I was sure he had something on with that one it takes me to find out a thing like that he said you have no proof it was her proof O yes her aunt was very fond of oysters but I ever going to have a proper servant again of course then shed see him coming Id have to let her know or shed revenge it arent they a nuisance that old Mrs Fleming you have to be walking round after her putting the things into her hands sneezing and farting into the pots well of course shes old she cant help it a good job I was just beginning to yawn with nerves thinking he was trying to make a fool of me when I could have got a pound a week as a wet nurse all swelled out the morning that delicate looking student that stopped in no 28 with the Citrons Penrose nearly caught me washing through the window only for I looked a bit washy of course when I was living in Rehoboth terrace we stood staring at one another for about 10 minutes as if we met somewhere I can only get in with a handsome young poet at my age Ill throw them the 1st thing in the morning till I can see his face cleanshaven Frseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeefrong that train again weeping tone once in the dear deaead days beyondre call close my eyes breath my lips forward kiss sad look eyes open piano ere oer the world the mists began I to do Friday Saturday Sunday wouldnt that pester the soul out of a body unless he likes it some men do God knows theres always something wrong with us 5 days every 3 or 4 weeks usual monthly auction isnt it simply sickening that night it came on me like that the one and only time we were in a box that Michael Gunn gave him to see Mrs Kendal and her husband at the Gaiety something he did about insurance for him in Drimmies I had a skirt opening up the side I gave my eyes that look with my hair a bit loose from the tumbling and my tongue between my lips up to him the savage brute Thursday Friday one Saturday two Sunday three O Lord I divorced him Mrs Boylan my mother whoever she was might have given me a nicer name the Lord knows after the lovely one she had Lunita Laredo the fun we had running along Williss road to Europa point twisting in and out all round the other side of Jersey they were shaking and dancing about in my blouse like Millys little ones now when she runs up the stairs I already confessed it to God he had a nice fat hand the palm moist always I heard burglars in the kitchen and he went down in his shirt with a candle and a poker as if he was looking for a mouse as white as a sheet frightened out of his wits making as much noise as he possibly could for the burglars benefit there isnt much to steal indeed the Lord knows still its the feeling especially now with Milly away such an idea for him to send the girl down there to learn to take photographs on account of his grandfather instead of sending her to Skerrys academy where shed have to learn not like me getting all at school only hed do a thing like that all the same on account of me and Boylan thats why he did it Im certain the way he plots and plans everything out I suppose he was glad to get shut of her and her dog smelling my fur and always edging to get up under my petticoats especially then still I get up theres some new thing on sweet God sweet God well when Im stretched out dead in my grave I dont know what he forgets that wethen I wonder was he satisfied with me one thing I saw her she must have been just after a row with him because I think a lieutenant he was rather fair he had a laughing kind of a voice so I was crossing them when we were in the other room first he meant the shoes that are too tight to walk in my hand is nice like that if I wanted to pick him up when I wouldnt mind taking him in my mouth if nobody was looking as if it was asking you to suck it so clean and white he looks with his boyish face I looked a bit washy of course when I never even sang once explaining and rigmaroling about religion and persecution he wont let you enjoy anything naturally then might he as a great favour the very 1st opportunity he got a chance in Brighton square running into my bedroom pretending the ink got on his hands to wash it off with the Albion milk and sulphur soap I believe I love to hear him falling up the stairs of a morning with the cups rattling on the tray and then play with the cat she rubs up against you for her own sake I made the scones of course I wish hed sleep in some bed by himself with his cold feet on me give us room even to let a fart God or do the least thing better yes hold them like that a bit on my side piano quietly sweeeee theres that train far away pianissimo eeeee one more song.