u11_sirens.xml

<div type="episode" n="11">
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110001"/>Bronze by gold heard the hoofirons, steelyringing.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110002"/>Imperthnthn thnthnthn.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110003"/>Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110004"/>Horrid! And gold flushed more.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110005"/>A husky fifenote blew.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110006"/>Blew. Blue bloom is on the.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110007"/>Goldpinnacled hair.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110008"/>A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose of Castile.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110009"/>Trilling, trilling Idolores.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110010"/>Peep! Who's in the .... peepofgold?</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110011"/>Tink cried to bronze in pity.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110012"/>And a call, pure, long and throbbing. Longindying call.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110013"/>Decoy. Soft word. But look the bright stars fade. Notes chirruping answer.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110014"/>O rose! Castile. The morn is breaking.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110015"/>Jingle jingle jaunted jingling.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110016"/>Coin rang. Clock clacked.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110017"/>Avowal. <foreign xml:lang="fr">Sonnez.</foreign> I could. Rebound of garter. Not leave thee. Smack. <foreign xml:lang="fr">La
<lb n="110018"/>cloche!</foreign> Thigh smack. Avowal. Warm. Sweetheart, goodbye!</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110019"/>Jingle. Bloo.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110020"/>Boomed crashing chords. When love absorbs. War! War! The tympanum.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110021"/>A sail! A veil awave upon the waves.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110022"/>Lost. Throstle fluted. All is lost now.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110023"/>Horn. Hawhorn.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110024"/>When first he saw. Alas!</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110025"/>Full tup. Full throb.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110026"/>Warbling. Ah, lure! Alluring.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110027"/>Martha! Come!</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110028"/>Clapclap. Clipclap. Clappyclap.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110029"/>Goodgod henev erheard inall.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110030"/>Deaf bald Pat brought pad knife took up.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110031"/>A moonlit nightcall far, far.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110032"/>I feel so sad. P. S. So lonely blooming.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110033"/>Listen!</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110034"/>The spiked and winding cold seahorn. Have you the? Each, and for other,
<lb n="110035"/>plash and silent roar.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110036"/>Pearls when she. Liszt's rhapsodies. Hissss.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110037"/>You don't?</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110038"/>Did not no, no believe Lidlyd. With a cock with a carra.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110039"/>Black. Deepsounding. Do, Ben, do.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110040"/>Wait while you wait. Hee hee. Wait while you hee.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110041"/>But wait!</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110042"/>Low in dark middle earth. Embedded ore.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110043"/><foreign xml:lang="la">Naminedamine.</foreign> Preacher is he.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110044"/>All gone. All fallen.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110045"/>Tiny, her tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110046"/>Amen! He gnashed in fury.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110047"/>Fro. To, fro. A baton cool protruding.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110048"/>Bronzelydia by Minagold.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110049"/>By bronze, by gold, in oceangreen of shadow. Bloom. Old Bloom.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110050"/>One rapped, one tapped, with a carra, with a cock.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110051"/>Pray for him! Pray, good people!</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110052"/>His gouty fingers nakkering.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110053"/>Big Benaben. Big Benben.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110054"/>Last rose Castile of summer left bloom I feel so sad alone.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110055"/>Pwee! Little wind piped wee.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110056"/>True men. Lid Ker Cow De and Doll. Ay, ay. Like you men. Will lift your
<lb n="110057"/>tschink with tschunk.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110058"/>Fff! Oo!</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110059"/>Where bronze from anear? Where gold from afar? Where hoofs?</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110060"/>Rrrpr. Kraa. Kraandl.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110061"/>Then not till then. My eppripfftaph. Be pfrwritt.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110062"/>Done.</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110063"/>Begin!</p>
<p rend="non-indent"><lb n="110064"/>Bronze by gold, miss Douce's head by miss Kennedy's head, over the
<lb n="110065"/>crossblind of the Ormond bar heard the viceregal hoofs go by, ringing steel.
<lb n="110066"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―Is that her?</said> asked miss Kennedy.</p>
<p><lb n="110067"/>Miss Douce said yes, sitting with his ex, pearl grey and <foreign xml:lang="fr">eau de Nil</foreign>.
<lb n="110068"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―Exquisite contrast,</said> miss Kennedy said.</p>
<p><lb n="110069"/>When all agog miss Douce said eagerly:
<lb n="110070"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Look at the fellow in the tall silk.</said>
<lb n="110071"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―Who? Where?</said> gold asked more eagerly.
<lb n="110072"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―In the second carriage,</said> miss Douce's wet lips said, laughing in the sun.
<said who="Lydia Douce"><lb n="110073"/>He's looking. Mind till I see.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110074"/>She darted, bronze, to the backmost corner, flattening her face
<lb n="110075"/>against the pane in a halo of hurried breath.</p>
<p><lb n="110076"/>Her wet lips tittered:
<lb n="110077"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―He's killed looking back.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110078"/>She laughed:
<lb n="110079"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―O wept! Aren't men frightful idiots?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110080"/>With sadness.</p>
<p><lb n="110081"/>Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light, twining a loose hair
<lb n="110082"/>behind an ear. Sauntering sadly, gold no more, she twisted twined a hair.
<lb n="110083"/>Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a curving ear.
<lb n="110084"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―It's them has the fine times,</said> sadly then she said.</p>
<p><lb n="110085"/>A man.</p>
<p><lb n="110086"/>Bloowho went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his breast the sweets
<lb n="110087"/>of sin, by Wine's antiques, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, by
<lb n="110088"/>Carroll's dusky battered plate, for Raoul.</p>
<p><lb n="110089"/>The boots to them, them in the bar, them barmaids came. For them
<lb n="110090"/>unheeding him he banged on the counter his tray of chattering china. And
<lb n="110091"/><said who="boots">―There's your teas,</said> he said.</p>
<p><lb n="110092"/>Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray down to an
<lb n="110093"/>upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, low.
<lb n="110094"/><said who="boots">―What is it?</said> loud boots unmannerly asked.
<lb n="110095"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Find out,</said> miss Douce retorted, leaving her spyingpoint.
<lb n="110096"/><said who="boots">―Your beau, is it?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110097"/>A haughty bronze replied:
<lb n="110098"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I hear any more of your
<lb n="110099"/>impertinent insolence.</said>
<lb n="110100"/><said who="boots">―Imperthnthn thnthnthn,</said> bootssnout sniffed rudely, as he retreated as she
<lb n="110101"/>threatened as he had come.</p>
<p><lb n="110102"/>Bloom.</p>
<p><lb n="110103"/>On her flower frowning miss Douce said:
<lb n="110104"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Most aggravating that young brat is. If he doesn't conduct himself I'll
<lb n="110105"/>wring his ear for him a yard long.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110106"/>Ladylike in exquisite contrast.
<lb n="110107"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―Take no notice,</said> miss Kennedy rejoined.</p>
<p><lb n="110108"/>She poured in a teacup tea, then back in the teapot tea. They cowered
<lb n="110109"/>under their reef of counter, waiting on footstools, crates upturned, waiting
<lb n="110110"/>for their teas to draw. They pawed their blouses, both of black satin, two
<lb n="110111"/>and nine a yard, waiting for their teas to draw, and two and seven.</p>
<p><lb n="110112"/>Yes, bronze from anear, by gold from afar, heard steel from anear,
<lb n="110113"/>hoofs ring from afar, and heard steelhoofs ringhoof ringsteel.
<lb n="110114"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Am I awfully sunburnt?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110115"/>Miss bronze unbloused her neck.
<lb n="110116"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―No,</said> said miss Kennedy. <said who="Mina Kennedy">It gets brown after. Did you try the borax with
<lb n="110117"/>the cherry laurel water?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110118"/>Miss Douce halfstood to see her skin askance in the barmirror
<lb n="110119"/>gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in their midst a
<lb n="110120"/>shell.
<lb n="110121"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―And leave it to my hands,</said> she said.
<lb n="110122"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―Try it with the glycerine,</said> miss Kennedy advised.</p>
<p><lb n="110123"/>Bidding her neck and hands adieu miss Douce
<lb n="110124"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Those things only bring out a rash,</said> replied, reseated. <said who="Lydia Douce">I asked that old
<lb n="110125"/>fogey in Boyd's for something for my skin.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110126"/>Miss Kennedy, pouring now a fulldrawn tea, grimaced and prayed:
<lb n="110127"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―O, don't remind me of him for mercy' sake!</said>
<lb n="110128"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―But wait till I tell you,</said> miss Douce entreated.</p>
<p><lb n="110129"/>Sweet tea miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two
<lb n="110130"/>ears with little fingers.
<lb n="110131"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―No, don't,</said> she cried.
<lb n="110132"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―I won't listen,</said> she cried.</p>
<p><lb n="110133"/>But Bloom?</p>
<p><lb n="110134"/>Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone:
<lb n="110135"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―For your what? says he.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110136"/>Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear, to speak: but said, but
<lb n="110137"/>prayed again:
<lb n="110138"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―Don't let me think of him or I'll expire. The hideous old wretch! That
<lb n="110139"/>night in the Antient Concert Rooms.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110140"/>She sipped distastefully her brew, hot tea, a sip, sipped, sweet tea.
<lb n="110141"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Here he was,</said> miss Douce said, cocking her bronze head three quarters,
<lb n="110142"/>ruffling her nosewings. <said who="Lydia Douce">Hufa! Hufa!</said></p>
<p><lb n="110143"/>Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from miss Kennedy's throat. Miss
<lb n="110144"/>Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like
<lb n="110145"/>a snout in quest.
<lb n="110146"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―O!</said> shrieking, miss Kennedy cried. <said who="Mina Kennedy">Will you ever forget his goggle eye?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110147"/>Miss Douce chimed in in deep bronze laughter, shouting:
<lb n="110148"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―And your other eye!</said></p>
<p><lb n="110149"/>Bloowhose dark eye read Aaron Figatner's name. Why do I always
<lb n="110150"/>think Figather? Gathering figs, I think. And Prosper Loré's huguenot name.
<lb n="110151"/>By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went by. Bluerobed, white
<lb n="110152"/>under, come to me. God they believe she is: or goddess. Those today. I
<lb n="110153"/>could not see. That fellow spoke. A student. After with Dedalus' son. He
<lb n="110154"/>might be Mulligan. All comely virgins. That brings those rakes of fellows
<lb n="110155"/>in: her white.</p>
<p><lb n="110156"/>By went his eyes. The sweets of sin. Sweet are the sweets.</p>
<p><lb n="110157"/>Of sin.</p>
<p><lb n="110158"/>In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with
<lb n="110159"/>Kennedy your other eye. They threw young heads back, bronze gigglegold,
<lb n="110160"/>to let freefly their laughter, screaming, your other, signals to each other,
<lb n="110161"/>high piercing notes.</p>
<p><lb n="110162"/>Ah, panting, sighing, sighing, ah, fordone, their mirth died down.</p>
<p><lb n="110163"/>Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again, raised, drank a sip and
<lb n="110164"/>gigglegiggled. Miss Douce, bending over the teatray, ruffled again her nose
<lb n="110165"/>and rolled droll fattened eyes. Again Kennygiggles, stooping, her fair
<lb n="110166"/>pinnacles of hair, stooping, her tortoise napecomb showed, spluttered out of
<lb n="110167"/>her mouth her tea, choking in tea and laughter, coughing with choking,
<lb n="110168"/>crying:
<lb n="110169"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―O greasy eyes! Imagine being married to a man like that!</said> she cried. <said who="Mina Kennedy">With
<lb n="110170"/>his bit of beard!</said></p>
<p><lb n="110171"/>Douce gave full vent to a splendid yell, a full yell of full woman,
<lb n="110172"/>delight, joy, indignation.
<lb n="110173"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Married to the greasy nose!</said> she yelled.</p>
<p><lb n="110174"/>Shrill, with deep laughter, after, gold after bronze, they urged each
<lb n="110175"/>each to peal after peal, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze,
<lb n="110176"/>shrilldeep, to laughter after laughter. And then laughed more. Greasy I
<lb n="110177"/>knows. Exhausted, breathless, their shaken heads they laid, braided and
<lb n="110178"/>pinnacled by glossycombed, against the counterledge. All flushed (O!),
<lb n="110179"/>panting, sweating (O!), all breathless.</p>
<p><lb n="110180"/>Married to Bloom, to greaseabloom.
<lb n="110181"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―O saints above!</said> miss Douce said, sighed above her jumping rose. <said who="Lydia Douce">I wished
<lb n="110182"/>I hadn't laughed so much. I feel all wet.</said>
<lb n="110183"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―O, miss Douce!</said> miss Kennedy protested. <said who="Mina Kennedy">You horrid thing!</said></p>
<p><lb n="110184"/>And flushed yet more (you horrid!), more goldenly.</p>
<p><lb n="110185"/>By Cantwell's offices roved Greaseabloom, by Ceppi's virgins, bright
<lb n="110186"/>of their oils. Nannetti's father hawked those things about, wheedling at
<lb n="110187"/>doors as I. Religion pays. Must see him for that par. Eat first. I want. Not
<lb n="110188"/>yet. At four, she said. Time ever passing. Clockhands turning. On. Where
<lb n="110189"/>eat? The Clarence, Dolphin. On. For Raoul. Eat. If I net five guineas with
<lb n="110190"/>those ads. The violet silk petticoats. Not yet. The sweets of sin.</p>
<p><lb n="110191"/>Flushed less, still less, goldenly paled.</p>
<p><lb n="110192"/>Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus. Chips, picking chips off one of his
<lb n="110193"/>rocky thumbnails. Chips. He strolled.
<lb n="110194"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―O, welcome back, miss Douce.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110195"/>He held her hand. Enjoyed her holidays?
<lb n="110196"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Tiptop.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110197"/>He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor.
<lb n="110198"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Gorgeous,</said> she said. <said who="Lydia Douce">Look at the holy show I am. Lying out on the strand
<lb n="110199"/>all day.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110200"/>Bronze whiteness.
<lb n="110201"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―That was exceedingly naughty of you,</said> Mr Dedalus told her and pressed
<lb n="110202"/>her hand indulgently. <said who="Simon Dedalus">Tempting poor simple males.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110203"/>Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away.
<lb n="110204"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―O go away!</said> she said. <said who="Lydia Douce">You're very simple, I don't think.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110205"/>He was.
<lb n="110206"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Well now I am,</said> he mused. <said who="Simon Dedalus">I looked so simple in the cradle they christened
<lb n="110207"/>me simple Simon.</said>
<lb n="110208"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―You must have been a doaty,</said> miss Douce made answer. <said who="Lydia Douce">And what did the
<lb n="110209"/>doctor order today?</said>
<lb n="110210"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Well now,</said> he mused, <said who="Simon Dedalus">whatever you say yourself. I think I'll trouble you
<lb n="110211"/>for some fresh water and a half glass of whisky.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110212"/>Jingle.
<lb n="110213"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―With the greatest alacrity,</said> miss Douce agreed.</p>
<p><lb n="110214"/>With grace of alacrity towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and
<lb n="110215"/>Cochrane's she turned herself. With grace she tapped a measure of gold
<lb n="110216"/>whisky from her crystal keg. Forth from the skirt of his coat Mr Dedalus
<lb n="110217"/>brought pouch and pipe. Alacrity she served. He blew through the flue two
<lb n="110218"/>husky fifenotes.
<lb n="110219"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―By Jove,</said> he mused, <said who="Simon Dedalus">I often wanted to see the Mourne mountains. Must be
<lb n="110220"/>a great tonic in the air down there. But a long threatening comes at last,
<lb n="110221"/>they say. Yes. Yes.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110222"/>Yes. He fingered shreds of hair, her maidenhair, her mermaid's, into
<lb n="110223"/>the bowl. Chips. Shreds. Musing. Mute.</p>
<p><lb n="110224"/>None nought said nothing. Yes.</p>
<p><lb n="110225"/>Gaily miss Douce polished a tumbler, trilling:
<lb n="110226"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―<emph>O, Idolores, queen of the eastern seas!</emph></said>
<lb n="110227"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Was Mr Lidwell in today?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110228"/>In came Lenehan. Round him peered Lenehan. Mr Bloom reached
<lb n="110229"/>Essex bridge. Yes, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. To Martha I must
<lb n="110230"/>write. Buy paper. Daly's. Girl there civil. Bloom. Old Bloom. Blue bloom is
<lb n="110231"/>on the rye.
<lb n="110232"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―He was in at lunchtime,</said> miss Douce said.</p>
<p><lb n="110233"/>Lenehan came forward.
<lb n="110234"/><said who="Lenehan">―Was Mr Boylan looking for me?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110235"/>He asked. She answered:
<lb n="110236"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Miss Kennedy, was Mr Boylan in while I was upstairs?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110237"/>She asked. Miss voice of Kennedy answered, a second teacup poised,
<lb n="110238"/>her gaze upon a page:
<lb n="110239"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―No. He was not.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110240"/>Miss gaze of Kennedy, heard, not seen, read on. Lenehan round the
<lb n="110241"/>sandwichbell wound his round body round.
<lb n="110242"/><said who="Lenehan">―Peep! Who's in the corner?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110243"/>No glance of Kennedy rewarding him he yet made overtures. To mind
<lb n="110244"/>her stops. To read only the black ones: round o and crooked ess.</p>
<p><lb n="110245"/>Jingle jaunty jingle.</p>
<p><lb n="110246"/>Girlgold she read and did not glance. Take no notice. She took no
<lb n="110247"/>notice while he read by rote a solfa fable for her, plappering flatly:
<lb n="110248"/><said who="Lenehan">―Ah fox met ah stork. Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you put your bill
<lb n="110249"/>down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110250"/>He droned in vain. Miss Douce turned to her tea aside.</p>
<p><lb n="110251"/>He sighed aside:
<lb n="110252"/><said who="Lenehan">―Ah me! O my!</said></p>
<p><lb n="110253"/>He greeted Mr Dedalus and got a nod.
<lb n="110254"/><said who="Lenehan">―Greetings from the famous son of a famous father.</said>
<lb n="110255"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Who may he be?</said> Mr Dedalus asked.</p>
<p><lb n="110256"/>Lenehan opened most genial arms. Who?
<lb n="110257"/><said who="Lenehan">―Who may he be?</said> he asked. <said who="Lenehan">Can you ask? Stephen, the youthful bard.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110258"/>Dry.</p>
<p><lb n="110259"/>Mr Dedalus, famous father, laid by his dry filled pipe.
<lb n="110260"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―I see,</said> he said. <said who="Simon Dedalus">I didn't recognise him for the moment. I hear he is keeping
<lb n="110261"/>very select company. Have you seen him lately?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110262"/>He had.
<lb n="110263"/><said who="Lenehan">―I quaffed the nectarbowl with him this very day,</said> said Lenehan. <said who="Lenehan">In
<lb n="110264"/>Mooney's <foreign xml:lang="fr">en ville</foreign> and in Mooney's <foreign xml:lang="fr">sur mer</foreign>. He had received the rhino for
<lb n="110265"/>the labour of his muse.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110266"/>He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, at listening lips and eyes:
<lb n="110267"/><said who="Lenehan">―The <foreign xml:lang="fr">élite</foreign> of Erin hung upon his lips. The ponderous pundit, Hugh
<lb n="110268"/>MacHugh, Dublin's most brilliant scribe and editor and that minstrel boy
<lb n="110269"/>of the wild wet west who is known by the euphonious appellation of the
<lb n="110270"/>O'Madden Burke.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110271"/>After an interval Mr Dedalus raised his grog and
<lb n="110272"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―That must have been highly diverting,</said> said he. <said who="Simon Dedalus">I see.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110273"/>He see. He drank. With faraway mourning mountain eye. Set down
<lb n="110274"/>his glass.</p>
<p><lb n="110275"/>He looked towards the saloon door.
<lb n="110276"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―I see you have moved the piano.</said>
<lb n="110277"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―The tuner was in today,</said> miss Douce replied, <said who="Lydia Douce">tuning it for the smoking
<lb n="110278"/>concert and I never heard such an exquisite player.</said>
<lb n="110279"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Is that a fact?</said>
<lb n="110280"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Didn't he, miss Kennedy? The real classical, you know. And blind too,
<lb n="110281"/>poor fellow. Not twenty I'm sure he was.</said>
<lb n="110282"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Is that a fact?</said> Mr Dedalus said.</p>
<p><lb n="110283"/>He drank and strayed away.
<lb n="110284"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―So sad to look at his face,</said> miss Douce condoled.</p>
<p><lb n="110285"/>God's curse on bitch's bastard.</p>
<p><lb n="110286"/>Tink to her pity cried a diner's bell. To the door of the bar and
<lb n="110287"/>diningroom came bald Pat, came bothered Pat, came Pat, waiter of
<lb n="110288"/>Ormond. Lager for diner. Lager without alacrity she served.</p>
<p><lb n="110289"/>With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan with impatience, for
<lb n="110290"/>jinglejaunty blazes boy.</p>
<p><lb n="110291"/>Upholding the lid he (who?) gazed in the coffin (coffin?) at the
<lb n="110292"/>oblique triple (piano!) wires. He pressed (the same who pressed indulgently
<lb n="110293"/>her hand), soft pedalling, a triple of keys to see the thicknesses of felt
<lb n="110294"/>advancing, to hear the muffled hammerfall in action.</p>
<p><lb n="110295"/>Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I was
<lb n="110296"/>in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower bought. Are you not
<lb n="110297"/>happy in your home? Flower to console me and a pin cuts lo. Means
<lb n="110298"/>something, language of flow. Was it a daisy? Innocence that is. Respectable
<lb n="110299"/>girl meet after mass. Thanks awfully muchly. Wise Bloom eyed on the door
<lb n="110300"/>a poster, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. Smoke mermaids,
<lb n="110301"/>coolest whiff of all. Hair streaming: lovelorn. For some man. For Raoul.
<lb n="110302"/>He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a jaunting car. It
<lb n="110303"/>is. Again. Third time. Coincidence.</p>
<p><lb n="110304"/>Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the bridge to Ormond
<lb n="110305"/>quay. Follow. Risk it. Go quick. At four. Near now. Out.
<lb n="110306"/><said who="Wisdom Hely's shopgirl">―Twopence, sir,</said> the shopgirl dared to say.
<lb n="110307"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Aha ... I was forgetting ... Excuse ...</said>
<lb n="110308"/><said who="Wisdom Hely's shopgirl">―And four.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110309"/>At four she. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. Bloo smi qui
<lb n="110310"/>go. Ternoon. Think you're the only pebble on the beach? Does that to all.
<lb n="110311"/>For men.</p>
<p><lb n="110312"/>In drowsy silence gold bent on her page.</p>
<p><lb n="110313"/>From the saloon a call came, long in dying. That was a tuningfork the
<lb n="110314"/>tuner had that he forgot that he now struck. A call again. That he now
<lb n="110315"/>poised that it now throbbed. You hear? It throbbed, pure, purer, softly and
<lb n="110316"/>softlier, its buzzing prongs. Longer in dying call.</p>
<p><lb n="110317"/>Pat paid for diner's popcorked bottle: and over tumbler, tray and
<lb n="110318"/>popcorked bottle ere he went he whispered, bald and bothered, with miss
<lb n="110319"/>Douce.
<lb n="110320"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―<emph>The bright stars fade</emph> ....</said></p>
<p><lb n="110321"/>A voiceless song sang from within, singing:
<lb n="110322"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">― ... <emph>the morn is breaking.</emph></said></p>
<p><lb n="110323"/>A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive
<lb n="110324"/>hands. Brightly the keys, all twinkling, linked, all harpsichording, called to
<lb n="110325"/>a voice to sing the strain of dewy morn, of youth, of love's leavetaking,
<lb n="110326"/>life's, love's morn.
<lb n="110327"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―<emph>The dewdrops pearl</emph> ....</said></p>
<p><lb n="110328"/>Lenehan's lips over the counter lisped a low whistle of decoy.
<lb n="110329"/><said who="Lenehan">―But look this way,</said> he said, <said who="Lenehan">rose of Castile.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110330"/>Jingle jaunted by the curb and stopped.</p>
<p><lb n="110331"/>She rose and closed her reading, rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn,
<lb n="110332"/>dreamily rose.
<lb n="110333"/><said who="Lenehan">―Did she fall or was she pushed?</said> he asked her.</p>
<p><lb n="110334"/>She answered, slighting:
<lb n="110335"/><said who="Lenehan">―Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110336"/>Like lady, ladylike.</p>
<p><lb n="110337"/>Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloor where he
<lb n="110338"/>strode. Yes, gold from anear by bronze from afar. Lenehan heard and knew
<lb n="110339"/>and hailed him:
<lb n="110340"/><said who="Lenehan">―See the conquering hero comes.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110341"/>Between the car and window, warily walking, went Bloom,
<lb n="110342"/>unconquered hero. See me he might. The seat he sat on: warm. Black wary
<lb n="110343"/>hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting.
<lb n="110344"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―<emph>And I from thee</emph> ....</said>
<lb n="110345"/><said who="Blazes Boylan">―I heard you were round,</said> said Blazes Boylan.</p>
<p><lb n="110346"/>He touched to fair miss Kennedy a rim of his slanted straw. She
<lb n="110347"/>smiled on him. But sister bronze outsmiled her, preening for him her richer
<lb n="110348"/>hair, a bosom and a rose.</p>
<p><lb n="110349"/>Smart Boylan bespoke potions.
<lb n="110350"/><said who="Blazes Boylan">―What's your cry? Glass of bitter? Glass of bitter, please, and a sloegin for
<lb n="110351"/>me. Wire in yet?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110352"/>Not yet. At four she. Who said four?</p>
<p><lb n="110353"/>Cowley's red lugs and bulging apple in the door of the sheriff's office.
<lb n="110354"/>Avoid. Goulding a chance. What is he doing in the Ormond? Car waiting.
<lb n="110355"/>Wait.</p>
<p><lb n="110356"/>Hello. Where off to? Something to eat? I too was just. In here. What,
<lb n="110357"/>Ormond? Best value in Dublin. Is that so? Diningroom. Sit tight there. See,
<lb n="110358"/>not be seen. I think I'll join you. Come on. Richie led on. Bloom followed
<lb n="110359"/>bag. Dinner fit for a prince.</p>
<p><lb n="110360"/>Miss Douce reached high to take a flagon, stretching her satin arm,
<lb n="110361"/>her bust, that all but burst, so high.
<lb n="110362"/><said who="Lenehan">―O! O!</said> jerked Lenehan, gasping at each stretch. <said who="Lenehan">O!</said></p>
<p><lb n="110363"/>But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph.
<lb n="110364"/><said who="Blazes Boylan">―Why don't you grow?</said> asked Blazes Boylan.</p>
<p><lb n="110365"/>Shebronze, dealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his
<lb n="110366"/>lips, looked as it flowed (flower in his coat: who gave him?), and syrupped
<lb n="110367"/>with her voice:
<lb n="110368"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Fine goods in small parcels.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110369"/>That is to say she. Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe.
<lb n="110370"/><said who="Blazes Boylan">―Here's fortune,</said> Blazes said.</p>
<p><lb n="110371"/>He pitched a broad coin down. Coin rang.
<lb n="110372"/><said who="Lenehan">―Hold on,</said> said Lenehan, <said who="Lenehan">till I ....</said>
<lb n="110373"/><said who="Lenehan">―Fortune,</said> he wished, lifting his bubbled ale.
<lb n="110374"/><said who="Lenehan">―Sceptre will win in a canter,</said> he said.
<lb n="110375"/><said who="Blazes Boylan">―I plunged a bit,</said> said Boylan winking and drinking. <said who="Blazes Boylan">Not on my own, you
<lb n="110376"/>know. Fancy of a friend of mine.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110377"/>Lenehan still drank and grinned at his tilted ale and at miss Douce's
<lb n="110378"/>lips that all but hummed, not shut, the oceansong her lips had trilled.
<lb n="110379"/>Idolores. The eastern seas.</p>
<p><lb n="110380"/>Clock whirred. Miss Kennedy passed their way (flower, wonder who
<lb n="110381"/>gave), bearing away teatray. Clock clacked.</p>
<p><lb n="110382"/>Miss Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister. It
<lb n="110383"/>clanged. Clock clacked. Fair one of Egypt teased and sorted in the till and
<lb n="110384"/>hummed and handed coins in change. Look to the west. A clack. For me.
<lb n="110385"/><said who="Blazes Boylan">―What time is that?</said> asked Blazes Boylan. <said who="Blazes Boylan">Four?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110386"/>O'clock.</p>
<p><lb n="110387"/>Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her humming, bust ahumming,
<lb n="110388"/>tugged Blazes Boylan's elbowsleeve.
<lb n="110389"/><said who="Lenehan">―Let's hear the time,</said> he said.</p>
<p><lb n="110390"/>The bag of Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered
<lb n="110391"/>tables. Aimless he chose with agitated aim, bald Pat attending, a table near
<lb n="110392"/>the door. Be near. At four. Has he forgotten? Perhaps a trick. Not come:
<lb n="110393"/>whet appetite. I couldn't do. Wait, wait. Pat, waiter, waited.</p>
<p><lb n="110394"/>Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes.
<lb n="110395"/><said who="Lenehan">―Go on,</said> pressed Lenehan. <said who="Lenehan">There's no-one. He never heard.</said>
<lb n="110396"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">― ... <emph>to Flora's lips did hie.</emph></said></p>
<p><lb n="110397"/>High, a high note pealed in the treble clear.</p>
<p><lb n="110398"/>Bronzedouce communing with her rose that sank and rose sought
<lb n="110399"/>Blazes Boylan's flower and eyes.
<lb n="110400"/><said who="unclear: Lenehan or Blazes Boylan">―Please, please.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110401"/>He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal.
<lb n="110402"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―<emph>I could not leave thee</emph> ...</said>
<lb n="110403"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Afterwits,</said> miss Douce promised coyly.
<lb n="110404"/><said who="Lenehan">―No, now,</said> urged Lenehan. <said who="Lenehan"><foreign xml:lang="fr">Sonnez la cloche!</foreign> O do! There's no-one.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110405"/>She looked. Quick. Miss Kenn out of earshot. Sudden bent. Two
<lb n="110406"/>kindling faces watched her bend.</p>
<p><lb n="110407"/>Quavering the chords strayed from the air, found it again, lost chord,
<lb n="110408"/>and lost and found it, faltering.
<lb n="110409"/><said who="Lenehan">―Go on! Do! <foreign xml:lang="fr">Sonnez!</foreign></said></p>
<p><lb n="110410"/>Bending, she nipped a peak of skirt above her knee. Delayed. Taunted
<lb n="110411"/>them still, bending, suspending, with wilful eyes.
<lb n="110412"/><said who="Lenehan">―<foreign xml:lang="fr">Sonnez!</foreign></said></p>
<p><lb n="110413"/>Smack. She set free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter
<lb n="110414"/>smackwarm against her smackable a woman's warmhosed thigh.
<lb n="110415"/><said who="Lenehan">―<foreign xml:lang="fr">La cloche!</foreign></said> cried gleeful Lenehan. <said who="Lenehan">Trained by owner. No sawdust there.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110416"/>She smilesmirked supercilious (wept! aren't men?), but, lightward
<lb n="110417"/>gliding, mild she smiled on Boylan.
<lb n="110418"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―You're the essence of vulgarity,</said> she in gliding said.</p>
<p><lb n="110419"/>Boylan, eyed, eyed. Tossed to fat lips his chalice, drank off his chalice
<lb n="110420"/>tiny, sucking the last fat violet syrupy drops. His spellbound eyes went
<lb n="110421"/>after, after her gliding head as it went down the bar by mirrors, gilded arch
<lb n="110422"/>for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmering, a spiky shell, where it
<lb n="110423"/>concerted, mirrored, bronze with sunnier bronze.</p>
<p><lb n="110424"/>Yes, bronze from anearby.
<lb n="110425"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">― ... <emph>sweetheart, goodbye!</emph></said>
<lb n="110426"/><said who="Blazes Boylan">―I'm off,</said> said Boylan with impatience.</p>
<p><lb n="110427"/>He slid his chalice brisk away, grasped his change.
<lb n="110428"/><said who="Lenehan">―Wait a shake,</said> begged Lenehan, drinking quickly. <said who="Lenehan">I wanted to tell you.
<lb n="110429"/>Tom Rochford ...</said>
<lb n="110430"/><said who="Blazes Boylan">―Come on to blazes,</said> said Blazes Boylan, going.</p>
<p><lb n="110431"/>Lenehan gulped to go.
<lb n="110432"/><said who="Lenehan">―Got the horn or what?</said> he said. <said who="Lenehan">Wait. I'm coming.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110433"/>He followed the hasty creaking shoes but stood by nimbly by the
<lb n="110434"/>threshold, saluting forms, a bulky with a slender.
<lb n="110435"/><said who="Lenehan">―How do you do, Mr Dollard?</said>
<lb n="110436"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―Eh? How do? How do?</said> Ben Dollard's vague bass answered, turning an
<lb n="110437"/>instant from Father Cowley's woe. <said who="Ben Dollard">He won't give you any trouble, Bob. Alf
<lb n="110438"/>Bergan will speak to the long fellow. We'll put a barleystraw in that Judas
<lb n="110439"/>Iscariot's ear this time.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110440"/>Sighing Mr Dedalus came through the saloon, a finger soothing an
<lb n="110441"/>eyelid.
<lb n="110442"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―Hoho, we will,</said> Ben Dollard yodled jollily. <said who="Ben Dollard">Come on, Simon. Give us a
<lb n="110443"/>ditty. We heard the piano.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110444"/>Bald Pat, bothered waiter, waited for drink orders. Power for Richie.
<lb n="110445"/>And Bloom? Let me see. Not make him walk twice. His corns. Four now.
<lb n="110446"/>How warm this black is. Course nerves a bit. Refracts (is it?) heat. Let me
<lb n="110447"/>see. Cider. Yes, bottle of cider.
<lb n="110448"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―What's that?</said> Mr Dedalus said. <said who="Simon Dedalus">I was only vamping, man.</said>
<lb n="110449"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―Come on, come on,</said> Ben Dollard called. <said who="Ben Dollard">Begone dull care. Come, Bob.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110450"/>He ambled Dollard, bulky slops, before them (hold that fellow with
<lb n="110451"/>the: hold him now) into the saloon. He plumped him Dollard on the stool.
<lb n="110452"/>His gouty paws plumped chords. Plumped, stopped abrupt.</p>
<p><lb n="110453"/>Bald Pat in the doorway met tealess gold returning. Bothered, he
<lb n="110454"/>wanted Power and cider. Bronze by the window, watched, bronze from
<lb n="110455"/>afar.</p>
<p><lb n="110456"/>Jingle a tinkle jaunted.</p>
<p><lb n="110457"/>Bloom heard a jing, a little sound. He's off. Light sob of breath Bloom
<lb n="110458"/>sighed on the silent bluehued flowers. Jingling. He's gone. Jingle. Hear.
<lb n="110459"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―<title type="song">Love and War</title>, Ben,</said> Mr Dedalus said. <said who="Simon Dedalus">God be with old times.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110460"/>Miss Douce's brave eyes, unregarded, turned from the crossblind,
<lb n="110461"/>smitten by sunlight. Gone. Pensive (who knows?), smitten (the smiting
<lb n="110462"/>light), she lowered the dropblind with a sliding cord. She drew down
<lb n="110463"/>pensive (why did he go so quick when I?) about her bronze, over the bar
<lb n="110464"/>where bald stood by sister gold, inexquisite contrast, contrast inexquisite
<lb n="110465"/>nonexquisite, slow cool dim seagreen sliding depth of shadow, <foreign xml:lang="fr">eau de Nil</foreign>.
<lb n="110466"/><said who="Father Cowley">―Poor old Goodwin was the pianist that night,</said> Father Cowley reminded
<lb n="110467"/>them. <said who="Father Cowley">There was a slight difference of opinion between himself and the
<lb n="110468"/>Collard grand.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110469"/>There was.
<lb n="110470"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―A symposium all his own,</said> Mr Dedalus said. <said who="Simon Dedalus">The devil wouldn't stop him.
<lb n="110471"/>He was a crotchety old fellow in the primary stage of drink.</said>
<lb n="110472"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―God, do you remember?</said> Ben bulky Dollard said, turning from the
<lb n="110473"/>punished keyboard. <said who="Ben Dollard">And by Japers I had no wedding garment.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110474"/>They laughed all three. He had no wed. All trio laughed. No wedding
<lb n="110475"/>garment.
<lb n="110476"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night,</said> Mr Dedalus said. <said who="Simon Dedalus">Where's
<lb n="110477"/>my pipe, by the way?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110478"/>He wandered back to the bar to the lost chord pipe. Bald Pat carried
<lb n="110479"/>two diners' drinks, Richie and Poldy. And Father Cowley laughed again.
<lb n="110480"/><said who="Father Cowley">―I saved the situation, Ben, I think.</said>
<lb n="110481"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―You did,</said> averred Ben Dollard. <said who="Ben Dollard">I remember those tight trousers too. That
<lb n="110482"/>was a brilliant idea, Bob.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110483"/>Father Cowley blushed to his brilliant purply lobes. He saved the
<lb n="110484"/>situa. Tight trou. Brilliant ide.
<lb n="110485"/><said who="Father Cowley">―I knew he was on the rocks,</said> he said. <said who="Father Cowley">The wife was playing the piano in
<lb n="110486"/>the coffee palace on Saturdays for a very trifling consideration and who
<lb n="110487"/>was it gave me the wheeze she was doing the other business? Do you
<lb n="110488"/>remember? We had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap in
<lb n="110489"/>Keogh's gave us the number. Remember?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110490"/>Ben remembered, his broad visage wondering.
<lb n="110491"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―By God, she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110492"/>Mr Dedalus wandered back, pipe in hand.
<lb n="110493"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―Merrion square style. Balldresses, by God, and court dresses. He
<lb n="110494"/>wouldn't take any money either. What? Any God's quantity of cocked hats
<lb n="110495"/>and boleros and trunkhose. What?</said>
<lb n="110496"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Ay, ay,</said> Mr Dedalus nodded. <said who="Simon Dedalus">Mrs Marion Bloom has left off clothes of all
<lb n="110497"/>descriptions.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110498"/>Jingle jaunted down the quays. Blazes sprawled on bounding tyres.</p>
<p><lb n="110499"/>Liver and bacon. Steak and kidney pie. Right, sir. Right, Pat.</p>
<p><lb n="110500"/>Mrs Marion. Met him pike hoses. Smell of burn. Of Paul de Kock.
<lb n="110501"/>Nice name he.
<lb n="110502"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―What's this her name was? A buxom lassy. Marion ...?</said>
<lb n="110503"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Tweedy.</said>
<lb n="110504"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―Yes. Is she alive?</said>
<lb n="110505"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―And kicking.</said>
<lb n="110506"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―She was a daughter of ...</said>
<lb n="110507"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Daughter of the regiment.</said>
<lb n="110508"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―Yes, begad. I remember the old drummajor.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110509"/>Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after
<lb n="110510"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―Irish? I don't know, faith. Is she, Simon?</said></p>
<p><lb n="110511"/>Puff after stiff, a puff, strong, savoury, crackling.
<lb n="110512"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Buccinator muscle is ... What? ... Bit rusty ... O, she is ... My Irish Molly,
<lb n="110513"/>O.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110514"/>He puffed a pungent plumy blast.
<lb n="110515"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―From the rock of Gibraltar ... all the way.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110516"/>They pined in depth of ocean shadow, gold by the beerpull, bronze by
<lb n="110517"/>maraschino, thoughtful all two. Mina Kennedy, 4 Lismore terrace,
<lb n="110518"/>Drumcondra with Idolores, a queen, Dolores, silent.</p>
<p><lb n="110519"/>Pat served, uncovered dishes. Leopold cut liverslices. As said before
<lb n="110520"/>he ate with relish the inner organs, nutty gizzards, fried cods' roes while
<lb n="110521"/>Richie Goulding, Collis, Ward ate steak and kidney, steak then kidney, bite
<lb n="110522"/>by bite of pie he ate Bloom ate they ate.</p>
<p><lb n="110523"/>Bloom with Goulding, married in silence, ate. Dinners fit for princes.</p>
<p><lb n="110524"/>By Bachelor's walk jogjaunty jingled Blazes Boylan, bachelor, in sun
<lb n="110525"/>in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with flick of whip, on bounding tyres:
<lb n="110526"/>sprawled, warmseated, Boylan impatience, ardentbold. Horn. Have you
<lb n="110527"/>the? Horn. Have you the? Haw haw horn.</p>
<p><lb n="110528"/>Over their voices Dollard bassooned attack, booming over
<lb n="110529"/>bombarding chords:
<lb n="110530"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―<emph>When love absorbs my ardent soul</emph> ...</said></p>
<p><lb n="110531"/>Roll of Bensoulbenjamin rolled to the quivery loveshivery roofpanes.
<lb n="110532"/><said who="Father Cowley">―War! War!</said> cried Father Cowley. <said who="Father Cowley">You're the warrior.</said>
<lb n="110533"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―So I am,</said> Ben Warrior laughed. <said who="Ben Dollard">I was thinking of your landlord. Love or
<lb n="110534"/>money.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110535"/>He stopped. He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge.
<lb n="110536"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Sure, you'd burst the tympanum of her ear, man,</said> Mr Dedalus said
<lb n="110537"/>through smoke aroma, <said who="Simon Dedalus">with an organ like yours.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110538"/>In bearded abundant laughter Dollard shook upon the keyboard. He
<lb n="110539"/>would.
<lb n="110540"/><said who="Father Cowley">―Not to mention another membrane,</said> Father Cowley added. <said who="Father Cowley">Half time,
<lb n="110541"/>Ben. <foreign xml:lang="it">Amoroso ma non troppo.</foreign> Let me there.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110542"/>Miss Kennedy served two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout. She
<lb n="110543"/>passed a remark. It was indeed, first gentleman said, beautiful weather.
<lb n="110544"/>They drank cool stout. Did she know where the lord lieutenant was going?
<lb n="110545"/>And heard steelhoofs ringhoof ring. No, she couldn't say. But it would be
<lb n="110546"/>in the paper. O, she need not trouble. No trouble. She waved about her
<lb n="110547"/>outspread <title type="newspaper">Independent</title>, searching, the lord lieutenant, her pinnacles of hair
<lb n="110548"/>slowmoving, lord lieuten. Too much trouble, first gentleman said. O, not in
<lb n="110549"/>the least. Way he looked that. Lord lieutenant. Gold by bronze heard iron
<lb n="110550"/>steel.
<lb n="110551"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―... <emph>my ardent soul
<lb n="110552"/>I care not sforor the morrow.</emph></said></p>
<p><lb n="110553"/>In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. <title type="song">Love and War</title>
<lb n="110554"/>someone is. Ben Dollard's famous. Night he ran round to us to borrow a
<lb n="110555"/>dress suit for that concert. Trousers tight as a drum on him. Musical
<lb n="110556"/>porkers. Molly did laugh when he went out. Threw herself back across the
<lb n="110557"/>bed, screaming, kicking. With all his belongings on show. O saints above,
<lb n="110558"/>I'm drenched! O, the women in the front row! O, I never laughed so many!
<lb n="110559"/>Well, of course that's what gives him the base barreltone. For instance
<lb n="110560"/>eunuchs. Wonder who's playing. Nice touch. Must be Cowley. Musical.
<lb n="110561"/>Knows whatever note you play. Bad breath he has, poor chap. Stopped.</p>
<p><lb n="110562"/>Miss Douce, engaging, Lydia Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, George
<lb n="110563"/>Lidwell, gentleman, entering. Good afternoon. She gave her moist (a lady's)
<lb n="110564"/>hand to his firm clasp. Afternoon. Yes, she was back. To the old dingdong
<lb n="110565"/>again.
<lb n="110566"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Your friends are inside, Mr Lidwell.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110567"/>George Lidwell, suave, solicited, held a lydiahand.</p>
<p><lb n="110568"/>Jingle.</p>
<p><lb n="110569"/>Bloom ate liv as said before. Clean here at least. That chap in the
<lb n="110570"/>Burton, gummy with gristle. No-one here: Goulding and I. Clean tables,
<lb n="110571"/>flowers, mitres of napkins. Pat to and fro. Bald Pat. Nothing to do. Best
<lb n="110572"/>value in Dub.</p>
<p><lb n="110573"/>Piano again. Cowley it is. Way he sits in to it, like one together,
<lb n="110574"/>mutual understanding. Tiresome shapers scraping fiddles, eye on the
<lb n="110575"/>bowend, sawing the cello, remind you of toothache. Her high long snore.
<lb n="110576"/>Night we were in the box. Trombone under blowing like a grampus,
<lb n="110577"/>between the acts, other brass chap unscrewing, emptying spittle.
<lb n="110578"/>Conductor's legs too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy. Do right to hide them.</p>
<p><lb n="110579"/>Jiggedy jingle jaunty jaunty.</p>
<p><lb n="110580"/>Only the harp. Lovely. Gold glowering light. Girl touched it. Poop of
<lb n="110581"/>a lovely. Gravy's rather good fit for a. Golden ship. Erin. The harp that
<lb n="110582"/>once or twice. Cool hands. Ben Howth, the rhododendrons. We are their
<lb n="110583"/>harps. I. He. Old. Young.
<lb n="110584"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Ah, I couldn't, man,</said> Mr Dedalus said, shy, listless.</p>
<p><lb n="110585"/>Strongly.
<lb n="110586"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―Go on, blast you!</said> Ben Dollard growled. <said who="Ben Dollard">Get it out in bits.</said>
<lb n="110587"/><said who="Father Cowley">―<foreign xml:lang="it">M'appari</foreign>, Simon,</said> Father Cowley said.</p>
<p><lb n="110588"/>Down stage he strode some paces, grave, tall in affliction, his long
<lb n="110589"/>arms outheld. Hoarsely the apple of his throat hoarsed softly. Softly he
<lb n="110590"/>sang to a dusty seascape there: <title type="artwork">A Last Farewell</title>. A headland, a ship, a sail
<lb n="110591"/>upon the billows. Farewell. A lovely girl, her veil awave upon the wind upon
<lb n="110592"/>the headland, wind around her.</p>
<p><lb n="110593"/>Cowley sang:
<lb n="110594"/><said who="Father Cowley">―<foreign xml:lang="it">M'appari tutt'amor:
<lb n="110595"/>Il mio sguardo l'incontr</foreign> ...</said></p>
<p><lb n="110596"/>She waved, unhearing Cowley, her veil, to one departing, dear one, to
<lb n="110597"/>wind, love, speeding sail, return.
<lb n="110598"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―Go on, Simon.</said>
<lb n="110599"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Ah, sure, my dancing days are done, Ben ... Well ...</said></p>
<p><lb n="110600"/>Mr Dedalus laid his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, sitting,
<lb n="110601"/>touched the obedient keys.
<lb n="110602"/><said who="Father Cowley">―No, Simon,</said> Father Cowley turned. <said who="Father Cowley">Play it in the original. One flat.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110603"/>The keys, obedient, rose higher, told, faltered, confessed, confused.</p>
<p><lb n="110604"/>Up stage strode Father Cowley.
<lb n="110605"/><said who="Father Cowley">―Here, Simon, I'll accompany you,</said> he said. <said who="Father Cowley">Get up.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110606"/>By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, by Elvery's elephant jingly
<lb n="110607"/>jogged.</p>
<p><lb n="110608"/>Steak, kidney, liver, mashed, at meat fit for princes sat princes Bloom
<lb n="110609"/>and Goulding. Princes at meat they raised and drank, Power and cider.</p>
<p><lb n="110610"/>Most beautiful tenor air ever written, Richie said: <title type="opera">Sonnambula</title>. He
<lb n="110611"/>heard Joe Maas sing that one night. Ah, what M'Guckin! Yes. In his way.
<lb n="110612"/>Choirboy style. Maas was the boy. Massboy. A lyrical tenor if you like.
<lb n="110613"/>Never forget it. Never.</p>
<p><lb n="110614"/>Tenderly Bloom over liverless bacon saw the tightened features strain.
<lb n="110615"/>Backache he. Bright's bright eye. Next item on the programme. Paying the
<lb n="110616"/>piper. Pills, pounded bread, worth a guinea a box. Stave it off awhile. Sings
<lb n="110617"/>too: <title type="song">Down among the dead men</title>. Appropriate. Kidney pie. Sweets to the.
<lb n="110618"/>Not making much hand of it. Best value in. Characteristic of him. Power.
<lb n="110619"/>Particular about his drink. Flaw in the glass, fresh Vartry water. Fecking
<lb n="110620"/>matches from counters to save. Then squander a sovereign in dribs and
<lb n="110621"/>drabs. And when he's wanted not a farthing. Screwed refusing to pay his
<lb n="110622"/>fare. Curious types.</p>
<p><lb n="110623"/>Never would Richie forget that night. As long as he lived: never. In
<lb n="110624"/>the gods of the old Royal with little Peake. And when the first note.</p>
<p><lb n="110625"/>Speech paused on Richie's lips.</p>
<p><lb n="110626"/>Coming out with a whopper now. Rhapsodies about damn all.
<lb n="110627"/>Believes his own lies. Does really. Wonderful liar. But want a good memory.
<lb n="110628"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Which air is that?</said> asked Leopold Bloom.
<lb n="110629"/><said who="Richie Goulding">―<title type="song">All is lost now.</title></said></p>
<p><lb n="110630"/>Richie cocked his lips apout. A low incipient note sweet banshee
<lb n="110631"/>murmured: all. A thrush. A throstle. His breath, birdsweet, good teeth he's
<lb n="110632"/>proud of, fluted with plaintive woe. Is lost. Rich sound. Two notes in one
<lb n="110633"/>there. Blackbird I heard in the hawthorn valley. Taking my motives he
<lb n="110634"/>twined and turned them. All most too new call is lost in all. Echo. How
<lb n="110635"/>sweet the answer. How is that done? All lost now. Mournful he whistled.
<lb n="110636"/>Fall, surrender, lost.</p>
<p><lb n="110637"/>Bloom bent leopold ear, turning a fringe of doyley down under the
<lb n="110638"/>vase. Order. Yes, I remember. Lovely air. In sleep she went to him.
<lb n="110639"/>Innocence in the moon. Brave. Don't know their danger. Still hold her
<lb n="110640"/>back. Call name. Touch water. Jingle jaunty. Too late. She longed to go.
<lb n="110641"/>That's why. Woman. As easy stop the sea. Yes: all is lost.
<lb n="110642"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―A beautiful air,</said> said Bloom lost Leopold. <said who="Leopold Bloom">I know it well.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110643"/>Never in all his life had Richie Goulding.</p>
<p><lb n="110644"/>He knows it well too. Or he feels. Still harping on his daughter. Wise
<lb n="110645"/>child that knows her father, Dedalus said. Me?</p>
<p><lb n="110646"/>Bloom askance over liverless saw. Face of the all is lost. Rollicking
<lb n="110647"/>Richie once. Jokes old stale now. Wagging his ear. Napkinring in his eye.
<lb n="110648"/>Now begging letters he sends his son with. Crosseyed Walter sir I did sir.
<lb n="110649"/>Wouldn't trouble only I was expecting some money. Apologise.</p>
<p><lb n="110650"/>Piano again. Sounds better than last time I heard. Tuned probably.
<lb n="110651"/>Stopped again.</p>
<p><lb n="110652"/>Dollard and Cowley still urged the lingering singer out with it.
<lb n="110653"/><said who="Ben Dollard AND Father Cowley">―With it, Simon.</said>
<lb n="110654"/><said who="Ben Dollard AND Father Cowley">―It, Simon.</said>
<lb n="110655"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Ladies and gentlemen, I am most deeply obliged by your kind
<lb n="110656"/>solicitations.</said>
<lb n="110657"/><said who="Ben Dollard AND Father Cowley">―It, Simon.</said>
<lb n="110658"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―I have no money but if you will lend me your attention I shall endeavour
<lb n="110659"/>to sing to you of a heart bowed down.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110660"/>By the sandwichbell in screening shadow Lydia, her bronze and rose,
<lb n="110661"/>a lady's grace, gave and withheld: as in cool glaucous <foreign xml:lang="fr">eau de Nil</foreign> Mina to
<lb n="110662"/>tankards two her pinnacles of gold.</p>
<p><lb n="110663"/>The harping chords of prelude closed. A chord, longdrawn,
<lb n="110664"/>expectant, drew a voice away.
<lb n="110665"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―<emph>When first I saw that form endearing</emph> ...</said></p>
<p><lb n="110666"/>Richie turned.
<lb n="110667"/><said who="Richie Goulding">―Si Dedalus' voice,</said> he said.</p>
<p><lb n="110668"/>Braintipped, cheek touched with flame, they listened feeling that flow
<lb n="110669"/>endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. Bloom signed to
<lb n="110670"/>Pat, bald Pat is a waiter hard of hearing, to set ajar the door of the bar. The
<lb n="110671"/>door of the bar. So. That will do. Pat, waiter, waited, waiting to hear, for he
<lb n="110672"/>was hard of hear by the door.
<lb n="110673"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">― ... <emph>Sorrow from me seemed to depart.</emph></said></p>
<p><lb n="110674"/>Through the hush of air a voice sang to them, low, not rain, not leaves
<lb n="110675"/>in murmur, like no voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem
<lb n="110676"/>dulcimers touching their still ears with words, still hearts of their each his
<lb n="110677"/>remembered lives. Good, good to hear: sorrow from them each seemed to
<lb n="110678"/>from both depart when first they heard. When first they saw, lost Richie
<lb n="110679"/>Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard from a person wouldn't expect it in the least,
<lb n="110680"/>her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word.</p>
<p><lb n="110681"/>Love that is singing: love's old sweet song. Bloom unwound slowly
<lb n="110682"/>the elastic band of his packet. Love's old sweet <foreign xml:lang="fr">sonnez la</foreign> gold. Bloom
<lb n="110683"/>wound a skein round four forkfingers, stretched it, relaxed, and wound it
<lb n="110684"/>round his troubled double, fourfold, in octave, gyved them fast.
<lb n="110685"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―<emph>Full of hope and all delighted</emph> ...</said></p>
<p><lb n="110686"/>Tenors get women by the score. Increase their flow. Throw flower at
<lb n="110687"/>his feet. When will we meet? My head it simply. Jingle all delighted. He
<lb n="110688"/>can't sing for tall hats. Your head it simply swurls. Perfumed for him. What
<lb n="110689"/>perfume does your wife? I want to know. Jing. Stop. Knock. Last look at
<lb n="110690"/>mirror always before she answers the door. The hall. There? How do you?
<lb n="110691"/>I do well. There? What? Or? Phial of cachous, kissing comfits, in her
<lb n="110692"/>satchel. Yes? Hands felt for the opulent.</p>
<p><lb n="110693"/>Alas the voice rose, sighing, changed: loud, full, shining, proud.
<lb n="110694"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―<emph>But alas, 'twas idle dreaming</emph> ...</said></p>
<p><lb n="110695"/>Glorious tone he has still. Cork air softer also their brogue. Silly man!
<lb n="110696"/>Could have made oceans of money. Singing wrong words. Wore out his
<lb n="110697"/>wife: now sings. But hard to tell. Only the two themselves. If he doesn't
<lb n="110698"/>break down. Keep a trot for the avenue. His hands and feet sing too. Drink.
<lb n="110699"/>Nerves overstrung. Must be abstemious to sing. Jenny Lind soup: stock,
<lb n="110700"/>sage, raw eggs, half pint of cream. For creamy dreamy.</p>
<p><lb n="110701"/>Tenderness it welled: slow, swelling, full it throbbed. That's the chat.
<lb n="110702"/>Ha, give! Take! Throb, a throb, a pulsing proud erect.</p>
<p><lb n="110703"/>Words? Music? No: it's what's behind.</p>
<p><lb n="110704"/>Bloom looped, unlooped, noded, disnoded.</p>
<p><lb n="110705"/>Bloom. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in
<lb n="110706"/>music out, in desire, dark to lick flow invading. Tipping her tepping her
<lb n="110707"/>tapping her topping her. Tup. Pores to dilate dilating. Tup. The joy the feel
<lb n="110708"/>the warm the. Tup. To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes. Flood, gush, flow,
<lb n="110709"/>joygush, tupthrob. Now! Language of love.
<lb n="110710"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">― ... <emph>ray of hope is</emph> ...</said></p>
<p><lb n="110711"/>Beaming. Lydia for Lidwell squeak scarcely hear so ladylike the muse
<lb n="110712"/>unsqueaked a ray of hopk.</p>
<p><lb n="110713"/><title type="opera">Martha</title> it is. Coincidence. Just going to write. Lionel's song. Lovely
<lb n="110714"/>name you have. Can't write. Accept my little pres. Play on her heartstrings
<lb n="110715"/>pursestrings too. She's a. I called you naughty boy. Still the name: Martha.
<lb n="110716"/>How strange! Today.</p>
<p><lb n="110717"/>The voice of Lionel returned, weaker but unwearied. It sang again to
<lb n="110718"/>Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to Pat open mouth ear waiting to
<lb n="110719"/>wait. How first he saw that form endearing, how sorrow seemed to part,
<lb n="110720"/>how look, form, word charmed him Gould Lidwell, won Pat Bloom's heart.</p>
<p><lb n="110721"/>Wish I could see his face, though. Explain better. Why the barber in
<lb n="110722"/>Drago's always looked my face when I spoke his face in the glass. Still hear
<lb n="110723"/>it better here than in the bar though farther.
<lb n="110724"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―<emph>Each graceful look</emph> ....</said></p>
<p><lb n="110725"/>First night when first I saw her at Mat Dillon's in Terenure. Yellow,
<lb n="110726"/>black lace she wore. Musical chairs. We two the last. Fate. After her. Fate.
<lb n="110727"/>Round and round slow. Quick round. We two. All looked. Halt. Down she
<lb n="110728"/>sat. All ousted looked. Lips laughing. Yellow knees.
<lb n="110729"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―<emph>Charmed my eye</emph> ...</said></p>
<p><lb n="110730"/>Singing. <title type="song">Waiting</title> she sang. I turned her music. Full voice of perfume
<lb n="110731"/>of what perfume does your lilactrees. Bosom I saw, both full, throat
<lb n="110732"/>warbling. First I saw. She thanked me. Why did she me? Fate. Spanishy
<lb n="110733"/>eyes. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in
<lb n="110734"/>shadow Dolores shedolores. At me. Luring. Ah, alluring.
<lb n="110735"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―<emph>Martha! Ah, Martha!</emph></said></p>
<p><lb n="110736"/>Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in cry of passion dominant
<lb n="110737"/>to love to return with deepening yet with rising chords of harmony. In cry
<lb n="110738"/>of lionel loneliness that she should know, must martha feel. For only her he
<lb n="110739"/>waited. Where? Here there try there here all try where. Somewhere.
<lb n="110740"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―<emph>Co-ome, thou lost one!
<lb n="110741"/>Co-ome, thou dear one!</emph></said></p>
<p><lb n="110742"/>Alone. One love. One hope. One comfort me. Martha, chestnote,
<lb n="110743"/>return!
<lb n="110744"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―<emph>Come ...!</emph></said></p>
<p><lb n="110745"/>It soared, a bird, it held its flight, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it
<lb n="110746"/>leaped serene, speeding, sustained, to come, don't spin it out too long long
<lb n="110747"/>breath he breath long life, soaring high, high resplendent, aflame, crowned,
<lb n="110748"/>high in the effulgence symbolistic, high, of the etherial bosom, high, of the
<lb n="110749"/>high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the all, the
<lb n="110750"/>endlessnessnessness .......
<lb n="110751"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―<emph>To me!</emph></said></p>
<p><lb n="110752"/>Siopold!</p>
<p><lb n="110753"/>Consumed.</p>
<p><lb n="110754"/>Come. Well sung. All clapped. She ought to. Come. To me, to him, to
<lb n="110755"/>her, you too, me, us.
<lb n="110756"/><said who="unclear: Ben Dollard or Father Cowley MAYBE MORE?">―Bravo!</said> Clapclap. <said who="unclear: Ben Dollard or Father Cowley">Good man, Simon.</said> Clappyclapclap. <said who="unclear: Ben Dollard or Father Cowley">Encore!</said>
<lb n="110757"/>Clapclipclap clap. <said who="unclear: Ben Dollard or Father Cowley">Sound as a bell. Bravo, Simon!</said> Clapclopclap. <said who="unclear: Ben Dollard or Father Cowley">Encore,</said>
<lb n="110758"/>enclap, said, cried, clapped all, Ben Dollard, Lydia Douce, George Lidwell,
<lb n="110759"/>Pat, Mina Kennedy, two gentlemen with two tankards, Cowley, first gent
<lb n="110760"/>with tank and bronze miss Douce and gold miss Mina.</p>
<p><lb n="110761"/>Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloor, said before.
<lb n="110762"/>Jingle by monuments of sir John Gray, Horatio onehandled Nelson,
<lb n="110763"/>reverend father Theobald Mathew, jaunted, as said before just now. Atrot,
<lb n="110764"/>in heat, heatseated. <foreign xml:lang="fr">Cloche. Sonnez la. Cloche. Sonnez la.</foreign> Slower the mare
<lb n="110765"/>went up the hill by the Rotunda, Rutland square. Too slow for Boylan,
<lb n="110766"/>blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, joggled the mare.</p>
<p><lb n="110767"/>An afterclang of Cowley's chords closed, died on the air made richer.</p>
<p><lb n="110768"/>And Richie Goulding drank his Power and Leopold Bloom his cider
<lb n="110769"/>drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said they would partake of
<lb n="110770"/>two more tankards if she did not mind. Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving,
<lb n="110771"/>coral lips, at first, at second. She did not mind.
<lb n="110772"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―Seven days in jail,</said> Ben Dollard said, <said who="Ben Dollard">on bread and water. Then you'd
<lb n="110773"/>sing, Simon, like a garden thrush.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110774"/>Lionel Simon, singer, laughed. Father Bob Cowley played. Mina
<lb n="110775"/>Kennedy served. Second gentleman paid. Tom Kernan strutted in. Lydia,
<lb n="110776"/>admired, admired. But Bloom sang dumb.</p>
<p><lb n="110777"/>Admiring.</p>
<p><lb n="110778"/>Richie, admiring, descanted on that man's glorious voice. He
<lb n="110779"/>remembered one night long ago. Never forget that night. Si sang <emph>'Twas
<lb n="110780"/>rank and fame</emph>: in Ned Lambert's 'twas. Good God he never heard in all his
<lb n="110781"/>life a note like that he never did <emph>then false one we had better part</emph> so clear so
<lb n="110782"/>God he never heard <emph>since love lives not</emph> a clinking voice <emph>lives not</emph> ask
<lb n="110783"/>Lambert he can tell you too.</p>
<p><lb n="110784"/>Goulding, a flush struggling in his pale, told Mr Bloom, face of the
<lb n="110785"/>night, Si in Ned Lambert's, Dedalus house, sang <emph>'Twas rank and fame</emph>.</p>
<p><lb n="110786"/>He, Mr Bloom, listened while he, Richie Goulding, told him, Mr
<lb n="110787"/>Bloom, of the night he, Richie, heard him, Si Dedalus, sing <emph>'Twas rank and
<lb n="110788"/>fame</emph> in his, Ned Lambert's, house.</p>
<p><lb n="110789"/>Brothers-in-law: relations. We never speak as we pass by. Rift in the
<lb n="110790"/>lute I think. Treats him with scorn. See. He admires him all the more. The
<lb n="110791"/>night Si sang. The human voice, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more
<lb n="110792"/>than all others.</p>
<p><lb n="110793"/>That voice was a lamentation. Calmer now. It's in the silence after
<lb n="110794"/>you feel you hear. Vibrations. Now silent air.</p>
<p><lb n="110795"/>Bloom ungyved his crisscrossed hands and with slack fingers plucked
<lb n="110796"/>the slender catgut thong. He drew and plucked. It buzz, it twanged. While
<lb n="110797"/>Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while Tom Kernan,
<lb n="110798"/>harking back in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening
<lb n="110799"/>Father Cowley, who played a voluntary, who nodded as he played. While
<lb n="110800"/>big Ben Dollard talked with Simon Dedalus, lighting, who nodded as he
<lb n="110801"/>smoked, who smoked.</p>
<p><lb n="110802"/>Thou lost one. All songs on that theme. Yet more Bloom stretched his
<lb n="110803"/>string. Cruel it seems. Let people get fond of each other: lure them on. Then
<lb n="110804"/>tear asunder. Death. Explos. Knock on the head. Outtohelloutofthat.
<lb n="110805"/>Human life. Dignam. Ugh, that rat's tail wriggling! Five bob I gave. <foreign xml:lang="la">Corpus
<lb n="110806"/>paradisum.</foreign> Corncrake croaker: belly like a poisoned pup. Gone. They
<lb n="110807"/>sing. Forgotten. I too. And one day she with. Leave her: get tired.
<lb n="110808"/>Suffer then. Snivel. Big spanishy eyes goggling at nothing. Her
<lb n="110809"/>wavyavyeavyheavyeavyevyevyhair un comb:'d.</p>
<p><lb n="110810"/>Yet too much happy bores. He stretched more, more. Are you not
<lb n="110811"/>happy in your? Twang. It snapped.</p>
<p><lb n="110812"/>Jingle into Dorset street.</p>
<p><lb n="110813"/>Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm, reproachful, pleased.
<lb n="110814"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Don't make half so free,</said> said she, <said who="Lydia Douce">till we are better acquainted.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110815"/>George Lidwell told her really and truly: but she did not believe.</p>
<p><lb n="110816"/>First gentleman told Mina that was so. She asked him was that so.
<lb n="110817"/>And second tankard told her so. That that was so.</p>
<p><lb n="110818"/>Miss Douce, miss Lydia, did not believe: miss Kennedy, Mina, did not
<lb n="110819"/>believe: George Lidwell, no: miss Dou did not: the first, the first: gent with
<lb n="110820"/>the tank: believe, no, no: did not, miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the tank.</p>
<p><lb n="110821"/>Better write it here. Quills in the postoffice chewed and twisted.</p>
<p><lb n="110822"/>Bald Pat at a sign drew nigh. A pen and ink. He went. A pad. He
<lb n="110823"/>went. A pad to blot. He heard, deaf Pat.
<lb n="110824"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Yes,</said> Mr Bloom said, teasing the curling catgut line. <said who="Leopold Bloom">It certainly is.</said> Few
<lb n="110825"/>lines will do. My present. All that Italian florid music is. Who is this wrote?
<lb n="110826"/>Know the name you know better. Take out sheet notepaper, envelope:
<lb n="110827"/>unconcerned. It's so characteristic.
<lb n="110828"/><said who="Richie Goulding">―Grandest number in the whole opera,</said> Goulding said.
<lb n="110829"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―It is,</said> Bloom said.</p>
<p><lb n="110830"/>Numbers it is. All music when you come to think. Two multiplied by
<lb n="110831"/>two divided by half is twice one. Vibrations: chords those are. One plus two
<lb n="110832"/>plus six is seven. Do anything you like with figures juggling. Always find
<lb n="110833"/>out this equal to that. Symmetry under a cemetery wall. He doesn't see my
<lb n="110834"/>mourning. Callous: all for his own gut. Musemathematics. And you think
<lb n="110835"/>you're listening to the etherial. But suppose you said it like: Martha, seven
<lb n="110836"/>times nine minus x is thirtyfive thousand. Fall quite flat. It's on account of
<lb n="110837"/>the sounds it is.</p>
<p><lb n="110838"/>Instance he's playing now. Improvising. Might be what you like, till
<lb n="110839"/>you hear the words. Want to listen sharp. Hard. Begin all right: then hear
<lb n="110840"/>chords a bit off: feel lost a bit. In and out of sacks, over barrels, through
<lb n="110841"/>wirefences, obstacle race. Time makes the tune. Question of mood you're
<lb n="110842"/>in. Still always nice to hear. Except scales up and down, girls learning. Two
<lb n="110843"/>together nextdoor neighbours. Ought to invent dummy pianos for that.
<lb n="110844"/>Milly no taste. Queer because we both, I mean. <title type="song" xml:lang="de">Blumenlied</title> I bought for
<lb n="110845"/>her. The name. Playing it slow, a girl, night I came home, the girl. Door of
<lb n="110846"/>the stables near Cecilia street.</p>
<p><lb n="110847"/>Bald deaf Pat brought quite flat pad ink. Pat set with ink pen quite
<lb n="110848"/>flat pad. Pat took plate dish knife fork. Pat went.</p>
<p><lb n="110849"/>It was the only language Mr Dedalus said to Ben. He heard them as a
<lb n="110850"/>boy in Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, singing their barcaroles.
<lb n="110851"/>Queenstown harbour full of Italian ships. Walking, you know, Ben, in the
<lb n="110852"/>moonlight with those earthquake hats. Blending their voices. God, such
<lb n="110853"/>music, Ben. Heard as a boy. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole.</p>
<p><lb n="110854"/>Sour pipe removed he held a shield of hand beside his lips that cooed
<lb n="110855"/>a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear, a call from afar, replying.</p>
<p><lb n="110856"/>Down the edge of his <title type="newspaper">Freeman</title> baton ranged Bloom's, your other eye,
<lb n="110857"/>scanning for where did I see that. Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick.
<lb n="110858"/>Heigho! Heigho! Fawcett. Aha! Just I was looking.</p>
<p><lb n="110859"/>Hope he's not looking, cute as a rat. He held unfurled his <title type="newspaper">Freeman</title>.
<lb n="110860"/>Can't see now. Remember write Greek ees. Bloom dipped, Bloo mur: dear
<lb n="110861"/>sir. Dear Henry wrote: dear Mady. Got your lett and flow. Hell did I put?
<lb n="110862"/>Some pock or oth. It is utterl imposs. Underline <emph>imposs</emph>. To write today.</p>
<p><lb n="110863"/>Bore this. Bored Bloom tambourined gently with I am just reflecting
<lb n="110864"/>fingers on flat pad Pat brought.</p>
<p><lb n="110865"/>On. Know what I mean. No, change that ee. Accep my poor litt pres
<lb n="110866"/>enclos. Ask her no answ. Hold on. Five Dig. Two about here. Penny the
<lb n="110867"/>gulls. Elijah is com. Seven Davy Byrne's. Is eight about. Say half a crown.
<lb n="110868"/>My poor little pres: p. o. two and six. Write me a long. Do you despise?
<lb n="110869"/>Jingle, have you the? So excited. Why do you call me naught? You naughty
<lb n="110870"/>too? O, Mairy lost the string of her. Bye for today. Yes, yes, will tell you.
<lb n="110871"/>Want to. To keep it up. Call me that other. Other world she wrote. My
<lb n="110872"/>patience are exhaust. To keep it up. You must believe. Believe. The tank. It.
<lb n="110873"/>Is. True.</p>
<p><lb n="110874"/>Folly am I writing? Husbands don't. That's marriage does, their
<lb n="110875"/>wives. Because I'm away from. Suppose. But how? She must. Keep young.
<lb n="110876"/>If she found out. Card in my high grade ha. No, not tell all. Useless pain. If
<lb n="110877"/>they don't see. Woman. Sauce for the gander.</p>
<p><lb n="110878"/>A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton
<lb n="110879"/>James of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on which sat a fare,
<lb n="110880"/>a young gentleman, stylishly dressed in an indigoblue serge suit made by
<lb n="110881"/>George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of number five Eden quay, and
<lb n="110882"/>wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one
<lb n="110883"/>Great Brunswick street, hatter. Eh? This is the jingle that joggled and
<lb n="110884"/>jingled. By Dlugacz' porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a
<lb n="110885"/>gallantbuttocked mare.
<lb n="110886"/><said who="Richie Goulding">―Answering an ad?</said> keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom.
<lb n="110887"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Yes,</said> Mr Bloom said. <said who="Leopold Bloom">Town traveller. Nothing doing, I expect.</said></p>
<p><lb n="110888"/>Bloom mur: best references. But Henry wrote: it will excite me. You
<lb n="110889"/>know how. In haste. Henry. Greek ee. Better add postscript. What is he
<lb n="110890"/>playing now? Improvising. Intermezzo. P. S. The rum tum tum. How will
<lb n="110891"/>you pun? You punish me? Crooked skirt swinging, whack by. Tell me I
<lb n="110892"/>want to. Know. O. Course if I didn't I wouldn't ask. La la la ree. Trails off
<lb n="110893"/>there sad in minor. Why minor sad? Sign H. They like sad tail at end.
<lb n="110894"/>P. P. S. La la la ree. I feel so sad today. La ree. So lonely. Dee.</p>
<p><lb n="110895"/>He blotted quick on pad of Pat. Envel. Address. Just copy out of
<lb n="110896"/>paper. Murmured: Messrs Callan, Coleman and Co, limited. Henry wrote:</p>
<p rend="inset"><lb n="110897"/>Miss Martha Clifford
<lb n="110898"/>c/o P. O.
<lb n="110899"/>Dolphin's Barn Lane
<lb n="110900"/>Dublin</p>
<p><lb n="110901"/>Blot over the other so he can't read. There. Right. Idea prize titbit.
<lb n="110902"/>Something detective read off blottingpad. Payment at the rate of guinea per
<lb n="110903"/>col. Matcham often thinks the laughing witch. Poor Mrs Purefoy. U. P: up.</p>
<p><lb n="110904"/>Too poetical that about the sad. Music did that. Music hath charms.
<lb n="110905"/>Shakespeare said. Quotations every day in the year. To be or not to be.
<lb n="110906"/>Wisdom while you wait.</p>
<p><lb n="110907"/>In Gerard's rosery of Fetter lane he walks, greyedauburn. One life is
<lb n="110908"/>all. One body. Do. But do.</p>
<p><lb n="110909"/>Done anyhow. Postal order, stamp. Postoffice lower down. Walk
<lb n="110910"/>now. Enough. Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet them. Dislike that job.
<lb n="110911"/>House of mourning. Walk. Pat! Doesn't hear. Deaf beetle he is.</p>
<p><lb n="110912"/>Car near there now. Talk. Talk. Pat! Doesn't. Settling those napkins.
<lb n="110913"/>Lot of ground he must cover in the day. Paint face behind on him then he'd
<lb n="110914"/>be two. Wish they'd sing more. Keep my mind off.</p>
<p><lb n="110915"/>Bald Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins. Pat is a waiter hard of
<lb n="110916"/>his hearing. Pat is a waiter who waits while you wait. Hee hee hee hee. He
<lb n="110917"/>waits while you wait. Hee hee. A waiter is he. Hee hee hee hee. He waits
<lb n="110918"/>while you wait. While you wait if you wait he will wait while you wait. Hee
<lb n="110919"/>hee hee hee. Hoh. Wait while you wait.</p>
<p><lb n="110920"/>Douce now. Douce Lydia. Bronze and rose.</p>
<p><lb n="110921"/>She had a gorgeous, simply gorgeous, time. And look at the lovely
<lb n="110922"/>shell she brought.</p>
<p><lb n="110923"/>To the end of the bar to him she bore lightly the spiked and winding
<lb n="110924"/>seahorn that he, George Lidwell, solicitor, might hear.
<lb n="110925"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―Listen!</said> she bade him.</p>
<p><lb n="110926"/>Under Tom Kernan's ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow.
<lb n="110927"/>Authentic fact. How Walter Bapty lost his voice. Well, sir, the husband took
<lb n="110928"/>him by the throat. <said who="husband" direct="false" rend="italics">Scoundrel</said>, said he, <said who="husband" direct="false" rend="italics">you'll sing no more lovesongs</said>. He
<lb n="110929"/>did, faith, sir Tom. Bob Cowley wove. Tenors get wom. Cowley lay back.</p>
<p><lb n="110930"/>Ah, now he heard, she holding it to his ear. Hear! He heard.
<lb n="110931"/>Wonderful. She held it to her own. And through the sifted light pale gold in
<lb n="110932"/>contrast glided. To hear.</p>
<p><lb n="110933"/>Tap.</p>
<p><lb n="110934"/>Bloom through the bardoor saw a shell held at their ears. He heard
<lb n="110935"/>more faintly that that they heard, each for herself alone, then each for
<lb n="110936"/>other, hearing the plash of waves, loudly, a silent roar.</p>
<p><lb n="110937"/>Bronze by a weary gold, anear, afar, they listened.</p>
<p><lb n="110938"/>Her ear too is a shell, the peeping lobe there. Been to the seaside.
<lb n="110939"/>Lovely seaside girls. Skin tanned raw. Should have put on coldcream first
<lb n="110940"/>make it brown. Buttered toast. O and that lotion mustn't forget. Fever near
<lb n="110941"/>her mouth. Your head it simply. Hair braided over: shell with seaweed.
<lb n="110942"/>Why do they hide their ears with seaweed hair? And Turks the mouth,
<lb n="110943"/>why? Her eyes over the sheet. Yashmak. Find the way in. A cave. No
<lb n="110944"/>admittance except on business.</p>
<p><lb n="110945"/>The sea they think they hear. Singing. A roar. The blood it is. Souse
<lb n="110946"/>in the ear sometimes. Well, it's a sea. Corpuscle islands.</p>
<p><lb n="110947"/>Wonderful really. So distinct. Again. George Lidwell held its murmur,
<lb n="110948"/>hearing: then laid it by, gently.
<lb n="110949"/><said who="George Lidwell">―What are the wild waves saying?</said> he asked her, smiled.</p>
<p><lb n="110950"/>Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled.</p>
<p><lb n="110951"/>Tap.</p>
<p><lb n="110952"/>By Larry O'Rourke's, by Larry, bold Larry O', Boylan swayed and
<lb n="110953"/>Boylan turned.</p>
<p><lb n="110954"/>From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her tankards waiting.
<lb n="110955"/>No, she was not so lonely archly miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell know.
<lb n="110956"/>Walks in the moonlight by the sea. No, not alone. With whom? She nobly
<lb n="110957"/>answered: with a gentleman friend.</p>
<p><lb n="110958"/>Bob Cowley's twinkling fingers in the treble played again. The
<lb n="110959"/>landlord has the prior. A little time. Long John. Big Ben. Lightly he played a
<lb n="110960"/>light bright tinkling measure for tripping ladies, arch and smiling, and for
<lb n="110961"/>their gallants, gentlemen friends. One: one, one, one, one, one: two, one,
<lb n="110962"/>three, four.</p>
<p><lb n="110963"/>Sea, wind, leaves, thunder, waters, cows lowing, the cattlemarket,
<lb n="110964"/>cocks, hens don't crow, snakes hissss. There's music everywhere.
<lb n="110965"/>Ruttledge's door: ee creaking. No, that's noise. Minuet of <title type="opera">Don Giovanni</title>
<lb n="110966"/>he's playing now. Court dresses of all descriptions in castle chambers
<lb n="110967"/>dancing. Misery. Peasants outside. Green starving faces eating dockleaves.
<lb n="110968"/>Nice that is. Look: look, look, look, look, look: you look at us.</p>
<p><lb n="110969"/>That's joyful I can feel. Never have written it. Why? My joy is other
<lb n="110970"/>joy. But both are joys. Yes, joy it must be. Mere fact of music shows you
<lb n="110971"/>are. Often thought she was in the dumps till she began to lilt. Then know.</p>
<p><lb n="110972"/>M'Coy valise. My wife and your wife. Squealing cat. Like tearing silk.
<lb n="110973"/>Tongue when she talks like the clapper of a bellows. They can't manage
<lb n="110974"/>men's intervals. Gap in their voices too. Fill me. I'm warm, dark, open.
<lb n="110975"/>Molly in <foreign xml:lang="la">quis est homo</foreign>: Mercadante. My ear against the wall to hear. Want
<lb n="110976"/>a woman who can deliver the goods.</p>
<p><lb n="110977"/>Jog jig jogged stopped. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks
<lb n="110978"/>skyblue clocks came light to earth.</p>
<p><lb n="110979"/>O, look we are so! Chamber music. Could make a kind of pun on
<lb n="110980"/>that. It is a kind of music I often thought when she. Acoustics that is.
<lb n="110981"/>Tinkling. Empty vessels make most noise. Because the acoustics, the
<lb n="110982"/>resonance changes according as the weight of the water is equal to the law
<lb n="110983"/>of falling water. Like those rhapsodies of Liszt's, Hungarian, gipsyeyed.
<lb n="110984"/>Pearls. Drops. Rain. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Hissss. Now.
<lb n="110985"/>Maybe now. Before.</p>
<p><lb n="110986"/>One rapped on a door, one tapped with a knock, did he knock Paul
<lb n="110987"/>de Kock with a loud proud knocker with a cock carracarracarra cock.
<lb n="110988"/>Cockcock.</p>
<p><lb n="110989"/>Tap.
<lb n="110990"/><said who="Father Cowley">―<foreign xml:lang="la">Qui sdegno</foreign>, Ben,</said> said Father Cowley.
<lb n="110991"/><said who="Tom Kernan">―No, Ben,</said> Tom Kernan interfered. <said who="Tom Kernan"><title type="song">The Croppy Boy.</title> Our native Doric.</said>
<lb n="110992"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Ay do, Ben,</said> Mr Dedalus said. <said who="Simon Dedalus">Good men and true.</said>
<lb n="110993"/><said who="Father Cowley AND Tom Kernan AND Simon Dedalus">―Do, do,</said> they begged in one.</p>
<p><lb n="110994"/>I'll go. Here, Pat, return. Come. He came, he came, he did not stay.
<lb n="110995"/>To me. How much?
<lb n="110996"/><said who="Father Cowley">―What key? Six sharps?</said>
<lb n="110997"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―F sharp major,</said> Ben Dollard said.</p>
<p><lb n="110998"/>Bob Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding
<lb n="110999"/>chords.</p>
<p><lb n="111000"/>Must go prince Bloom told Richie prince. No, Richie said. Yes, must.
<lb n="111001"/>Got money somewhere. He's on for a razzle backache spree. Much? He
<lb n="111002"/>seehears lipspeech. One and nine. Penny for yourself. Here. Give him
<lb n="111003"/>twopence tip. Deaf, bothered. But perhaps he has wife and family waiting,
<lb n="111004"/>waiting Patty come home. Hee hee hee hee. Deaf wait while they wait.</p>
<p><lb n="111005"/>But wait. But hear. Chords dark. Lugugugubrious. Low. In a cave of
<lb n="111006"/>the dark middle earth. Embedded ore. Lumpmusic.</p>
<p><lb n="111007"/>The voice of dark age, of unlove, earth's fatigue made grave approach
<lb n="111008"/>and painful, come from afar, from hoary mountains, called on good men
<lb n="111009"/>and true. The priest he sought. With him would he speak a word.</p>
<p><lb n="111010"/>Tap.</p>
<p><lb n="111011"/>Ben Dollard's voice. Base barreltone. Doing his level best to say it.
<lb n="111012"/>Croak of vast manless moonless womoonless marsh. Other comedown. Big
<lb n="111013"/>ships' chandler's business he did once. Remember: rosiny ropes, ships'
<lb n="111014"/>lanterns. Failed to the tune of ten thousand pounds. Now in the Iveagh
<lb n="111015"/>home. Cubicle number so and so. Number one Bass did that for him.</p>
<p><lb n="111016"/>The priest's at home. A false priest's servant bade him welcome. Step
<lb n="111017"/>in. The holy father. With bows a traitor servant. Curlycues of chords.</p>
<p><lb n="111018"/>Ruin them. Wreck their lives. Then build them cubicles to end their
<lb n="111019"/>days in. Hushaby. Lullaby. Die, dog. Little dog, die.</p>
<p><lb n="111020"/>The voice of warning, solemn warning, told them the youth had
<lb n="111021"/>entered a lonely hall, told them how solemn fell his footsteps there, told
<lb n="111022"/>them the gloomy chamber, the vested priest sitting to shrive.</p>
<p><lb n="111023"/>Decent soul. Bit addled now. Thinks he'll win in <emph>Answers</emph>, poets'
<lb n="111024"/>picture puzzle. We hand you crisp five pound note. Bird sitting hatching in
<lb n="111025"/>a nest. Lay of the last minstrel he thought it was. See blank tee what
<lb n="111026"/>domestic animal? Tee dash ar most courageous mariner. Good voice he has
<lb n="111027"/>still. No eunuch yet with all his belongings.</p>
<p><lb n="111028"/>Listen. Bloom listened. Richie Goulding listened. And by the door
<lb n="111029"/>deaf Pat, bald Pat, tipped Pat, listened.</p>
<p><lb n="111030"/>The chords harped slower.</p>
<p><lb n="111031"/>The voice of penance and of grief came slow, embellished, tremulous.
<lb n="111032"/>Ben's contrite beard confessed. <foreign xml:lang="la">In nomine Domini</foreign>, in God's name he knelt.
<lb n="111033"/>He beat his hand upon his breast, confessing: <foreign xml:lang="la">mea culpa</foreign>.</p>
<p><lb n="111034"/>Latin again. That holds them like birdlime. Priest with the
<lb n="111035"/>communion corpus for those women. Chap in the mortuary, coffin or
<lb n="111036"/>coffey, <foreign xml:lang="la">corpusnomine</foreign>. Wonder where that rat is by now. Scrape.</p>
<p><lb n="111037"/>Tap.</p>
<p><lb n="111038"/>They listened. Tankards and miss Kennedy. George Lidwell, eyelid
<lb n="111039"/>well expressive, fullbusted satin. Kernan. Si.</p>
<p><lb n="111040"/>The sighing voice of sorrow sang. His sins. Since Easter he had
<lb n="111041"/>cursed three times. You bitch's bast. And once at masstime he had gone to
<lb n="111042"/>play. Once by the churchyard he had passed and for his mother's rest he
<lb n="111043"/>had not prayed. A boy. A croppy boy.</p>
<p><lb n="111044"/>Bronze, listening, by the beerpull gazed far away. Soulfully. Doesn't
<lb n="111045"/>half know I'm. Molly great dab at seeing anyone looking.</p>
<p><lb n="111046"/>Bronze gazed far sideways. Mirror there. Is that best side of her face?
<lb n="111047"/>They always know. Knock at the door. Last tip to titivate.</p>
<p><lb n="111048"/>Cockcarracarra.</p>
<p><lb n="111049"/>What do they think when they hear music? Way to catch rattlesnakes.
<lb n="111050"/>Night Michael Gunn gave us the box. Tuning up. Shah of Persia liked that
<lb n="111051"/>best. Remind him of home sweet home. Wiped his nose in curtain too.
<lb n="111052"/>Custom his country perhaps. That's music too. Not as bad as it sounds.
<lb n="111053"/>Tootling. Brasses braying asses through uptrunks. Doublebasses helpless,
<lb n="111054"/>gashes in their sides. Woodwinds mooing cows. Semigrand open crocodile
<lb n="111055"/>music hath jaws. Woodwind like Goodwin's name.</p>
<p><lb n="111056"/>She looked fine. Her crocus dress she wore lowcut, belongings on
<lb n="111057"/>show. Clove her breath was always in theatre when she bent to ask a
<lb n="111058"/>question. Told her what Spinoza says in that book of poor papa's.
<lb n="111059"/>Hypnotised, listening. Eyes like that. She bent. Chap in dresscircle staring
<lb n="111060"/>down into her with his operaglass for all he was worth. Beauty of music
<lb n="111061"/>you must hear twice. Nature woman half a look. God made the country
<lb n="111062"/>man the tune. Met him pike hoses. Philosophy. O rocks!</p>
<p><lb n="111063"/>All gone. All fallen. At the siege of Ross his father, at Gorey all his
<lb n="111064"/>brothers fell. To Wexford, we are the boys of Wexford, he would. Last of
<lb n="111065"/>his name and race.</p>
<p><lb n="111066"/>I too. Last of my race. Milly young student. Well, my fault perhaps.
<lb n="111067"/>No son. Rudy. Too late now. Or if not? If not? If still?</p>
<p><lb n="111068"/>He bore no hate.</p>
<p><lb n="111069"/>Hate. Love. Those are names. Rudy. Soon I am old.</p>
<p><lb n="111070"/>Big Ben his voice unfolded. Great voice Richie Goulding said, a flush
<lb n="111071"/>struggling in his pale, to Bloom soon old. But when was young?</p>
<p><lb n="111072"/>Ireland comes now. My country above the king. She listens. Who
<lb n="111073"/>fears to speak of nineteen four? Time to be shoving. Looked enough.
<lb n="111074"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―<emph>Bless me, father</emph>,</said> Dollard the croppy cried. <said who="Ben Dollard"><emph>Bless me and let me go.</emph></said></p>
<p><lb n="111075"/>Tap.</p>
<p><lb n="111076"/>Bloom looked, unblessed to go. Got up to kill: on eighteen bob a
<lb n="111077"/>week. Fellows shell out the dibs. Want to keep your weathereye open. Those
<lb n="111078"/>girls, those lovely. By the sad sea waves. Chorusgirl's romance. Letters read
<lb n="111079"/>out for breach of promise. From Chickabiddy's owny Mumpsypum.
<lb n="111080"/>Laughter in court. Henry. I never signed it. The lovely name you.</p>
<p><lb n="111081"/>Low sank the music, air and words. Then hastened. The false priest
<lb n="111082"/>rustling soldier from his cassock. A yeoman captain. They know it all by
<lb n="111083"/>heart. The thrill they itch for. Yeoman cap.</p>
<p><lb n="111084"/>Tap. Tap.</p>
<p><lb n="111085"/>Thrilled she listened, bending in sympathy to hear.</p>
<p><lb n="111086"/>Blank face. Virgin should say: or fingered only. Write something on
<lb n="111087"/>it: page. If not what becomes of them? Decline, despair. Keeps them young.
<lb n="111088"/>Even admire themselves. See. Play on her. Lip blow. Body of white woman,
<lb n="111089"/>a flute alive. Blow gentle. Loud. Three holes, all women. Goddess I didn't
<lb n="111090"/>see. They want it. Not too much polite. That's why he gets them. Gold in
<lb n="111091"/>your pocket, brass in your face. Say something. Make her hear. With look
<lb n="111092"/>to look. Songs without words. Molly, that hurdygurdy boy. She knew he
<lb n="111093"/>meant the monkey was sick. Or because so like the Spanish. Understand
<lb n="111094"/>animals too that way. Solomon did. Gift of nature.</p>
<p><lb n="111095"/>Ventriloquise. My lips closed. Think in my stom. What?</p>
<p><lb n="111096"/>Will? You? I. Want. You. To.</p>
<p><lb n="111097"/>With hoarse rude fury the yeoman cursed, swelling in apoplectic
<lb n="111098"/>bitch's bastard. A good thought, boy, to come. One hour's your time to live,
<lb n="111099"/>your last.</p>
<p><lb n="111100"/>Tap. Tap.</p>
<p><lb n="111101"/>Thrill now. Pity they feel. To wipe away a tear for martyrs that want
<lb n="111102"/>to, dying to, die. For all things dying, for all things born. Poor Mrs
<lb n="111103"/>Purefoy. Hope she's over. Because their wombs.</p>
<p><lb n="111104"/>A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a fence of lashes,
<lb n="111105"/>calmly, hearing. See real beauty of the eye when she not speaks. On yonder
<lb n="111106"/>river. At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave (her heaving embon) red
<lb n="111107"/>rose rose slowly sank red rose. Heartbeats: her breath: breath that is life.
<lb n="111108"/>And all the tiny tiny fernfoils trembled of maidenhair.</p>
<p><lb n="111109"/>But look. The bright stars fade. O rose! Castile. The morn.</p>
<p><lb n="111110"/>Ha. Lidwell. For him then not for. Infatuated. I like that? See her
<lb n="111111"/>from here though. Popped corks, splashes of beerfroth, stacks of empties.</p>
<p><lb n="111112"/>On the smooth jutting beerpull laid Lydia hand, lightly, plumply,
<lb n="111113"/>leave it to my hands. All lost in pity for croppy. Fro, to: to, fro: over the
<lb n="111114"/>polished knob (she knows his eyes, my eyes, her eyes) her thumb and finger
<lb n="111115"/>passed in pity: passed, reposed and, gently touching, then slid so smoothly,
<lb n="111116"/>slowly down, a cool firm white enamel baton protruding through their
<lb n="111117"/>sliding ring.</p>
<p><lb n="111118"/>With a cock with a carra.</p>
<p><lb n="111119"/>Tap. Tap. Tap.</p>
<p><lb n="111120"/>I hold this house. Amen. He gnashed in fury. Traitors swing.</p>
<p><lb n="111121"/>The chords consented. Very sad thing. But had to be.</p>
<p><lb n="111122"/>Get out before the end. Thanks, that was heavenly. Where's my hat.
<lb n="111123"/>Pass by her. Can leave that <title type="newspaper">Freeman</title>. Letter I have. Suppose she were the?
<lb n="111124"/>No. Walk, walk, walk. Like Cashel Boylo Connoro Coylo Tisdall Maurice
<lb n="111125"/>Tisntdall Farrell. Waaaaaaalk.</p>
<p><lb n="111126"/>Well, I must be. Are you off? Yrfmstbyes. Blmstup. O'er ryehigh blue.
<lb n="111127"/>Ow. Bloom stood up. Soap feeling rather sticky behind. Must have
<lb n="111128"/>sweated: music. That lotion, remember. Well, so long. High grade. Card
<lb n="111129"/>inside. Yes.</p>
<p><lb n="111130"/>By deaf Pat in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed.</p>
<p><lb n="111131"/>At Geneva barrack that young man died. At Passage was his body
<lb n="111132"/>laid. Dolor! O, he dolores! The voice of the mournful chanter called to
<lb n="111133"/>dolorous prayer.</p>
<p><lb n="111134"/>By rose, by satiny bosom, by the fondling hand, by slops, by empties,
<lb n="111135"/>by popped corks, greeting in going, past eyes and maidenhair, bronze and
<lb n="111136"/>faint gold in deepseashadow, went Bloom, soft Bloom, I feel so lonely
<lb n="111137"/>Bloom.</p>
<p><lb n="111138"/>Tap. Tap. Tap.</p>
<p><lb n="111139"/>Pray for him, prayed the bass of Dollard. You who hear in peace.
<lb n="111140"/>Breathe a prayer, drop a tear, good men, good people. He was the croppy
<lb n="111141"/>boy.</p>
<p><lb n="111142"/>Scaring eavesdropping boots croppy bootsboy Bloom in the Ormond
<lb n="111143"/>hallway heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their boots
<lb n="111144"/>all treading, boots not the boots the boy. General chorus off for a swill to
<lb n="111145"/>wash it down. Glad I avoided.
<lb n="111146"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Come on, Ben,</said> Simon Dedalus cried. <said who="Simon Dedalus">By God, you're as good as ever you
<lb n="111147"/>were.</said>
<lb n="111148"/><said who="Tom Kernan">―Better,</said> said Tomgin Kernan. <said who="Tom Kernan">Most trenchant rendition of that ballad,
<lb n="111149"/>upon my soul and honour it is.</said>
<lb n="111150"/><said who="Father Cowley">―Lablache,</said> said Father Cowley.</p>
<p><lb n="111151"/>Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the bar, mightily praisefed
<lb n="111152"/>and all big roseate, on heavyfooted feet, his gouty fingers nakkering
<lb n="111153"/>castagnettes in the air.</p>
<p><lb n="111154"/>Big Benaben Dollard. Big Benben. Big Benben.</p>
<p><lb n="111155"/>Rrr.</p>
<p><lb n="111156"/>And deepmoved all, Simon trumping compassion from foghorn nose,
<lb n="111157"/>all laughing they brought him forth, Ben Dollard, in right good cheer.
<lb n="111158"/><said who="George Lidwell">―You're looking rubicund,</said> George Lidwell said.</p>
<p><lb n="111159"/>Miss Douce composed her rose to wait.
<lb n="111160"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Ben machree,</said> said Mr Dedalus, clapping Ben's fat back shoulderblade.
<said who="Simon Dedalus"><lb n="111161"/>Fit as a fiddle only he has a lot of adipose tissue concealed about his person.</said></p>
<p><lb n="111162"/>Rrrrrrrsss.
<lb n="111163"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―Fat of death, Simon,</said> Ben Dollard growled.</p>
<p><lb n="111164"/>Richie rift in the lute alone sat: Goulding, Collis, Ward. Uncertainly
<lb n="111165"/>he waited. Unpaid Pat too.</p>
<p><lb n="111166"/>Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.</p>
<p><lb n="111167"/>Miss Mina Kennedy brought near her lips to ear of tankard one.
<lb n="111168"/><said who="Mina Kennedy">―Mr Dollard,</said> they murmured low.
<lb n="111169"/><said who="gentleman with tankard">―Dollard,</said> murmured tankard.</p>
<p><lb n="111170"/>Tank one believed: miss Kenn when she: that doll he was: she doll:
<lb n="111171"/>the tank.</p>
<p><lb n="111172"/>He murmured that he knew the name. The name was familiar to him,
<lb n="111173"/>that is to say. That was to say he had heard the name of. Dollard, was it?
<lb n="111174"/>Dollard, yes.</p>
<p><lb n="111175"/>Yes, her lips said more loudly, Mr Dollard. He sang that song lovely,
<lb n="111176"/>murmured Mina. Mr Dollard. And <title type="song">The Last Rose of Summer</title> was a lovely
<lb n="111177"/>song. Mina loved that song. Tankard loved the song that Mina.</p>
<p><lb n="111178"/>'Tis the last rose of summer dollard left bloom felt wind wound round
<lb n="111179"/>inside.</p>
<p><lb n="111180"/>Gassy thing that cider: binding too. Wait. Postoffice near Reuben J's
<lb n="111181"/>one and eightpence too. Get shut of it. Dodge round by Greek street. Wish
<lb n="111182"/>I hadn't promised to meet. Freer in air. Music. Gets on your nerves.
<lb n="111183"/>Beerpull. Her hand that rocks the cradle rules the. Ben Howth. That rules
<lb n="111184"/>the world.
<lb n="111185"/>Far. Far. Far. Far.</p>
<p><lb n="111186"/>Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.</p>
<p><lb n="111187"/>Up the quay went Lionelleopold, naughty Henry with letter for
<lb n="111188"/>Mady, with sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul with met him pike hoses
<lb n="111189"/>went Poldy on.</p>
<p><lb n="111190"/>Tap blind walked tapping by the tap the curbstone tapping, tap by tap.</p>
<p><lb n="111191"/>Cowley, he stuns himself with it: kind of drunkenness. Better give
<lb n="111192"/>way only half way the way of a man with a maid. Instance enthusiasts. All
<lb n="111193"/>ears. Not lose a demisemiquaver. Eyes shut. Head nodding in time. Dotty.
<lb n="111194"/>You daren't budge. Thinking strictly prohibited. Always talking shop.
<lb n="111195"/>Fiddlefaddle about notes.</p>
<p><lb n="111196"/>All a kind of attempt to talk. Unpleasant when it stops because you
<lb n="111197"/>never know exac. Organ in Gardiner street. Old Glynn fifty quid a year.
<lb n="111198"/>Queer up there in the cockloft, alone, with stops and locks and keys. Seated
<lb n="111199"/>all day at the organ. Maunder on for hours, talking to himself or the other
<lb n="111200"/>fellow blowing the bellows. Growl angry, then shriek cursing (want to have
<lb n="111201"/>wadding or something in his no don't she cried), then all of a soft sudden
<lb n="111202"/>wee little wee little pipy wind.</p>
<p><lb n="111203"/>Pwee! A wee little wind piped eeee. In Bloom's little wee.
<lb n="111204"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Was he?</said> Mr Dedalus said, returning with fetched pipe. <said who="Simon Dedalus">I was with him
<lb n="111205"/>this morning at poor little Paddy Dignam's ...</said>
<lb n="111206"/><said who="unclear: George Lidwell?">―Ay, the Lord have mercy on him.</said>
<lb n="111207"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―By the bye there's a tuningfork in there on the ...</said></p>
<p><lb n="111208"/>Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
<lb n="111209"/><said who="George Lidwell">―The wife has a fine voice. Or had. What?</said> Lidwell asked.
<lb n="111210"/><said who="Lydia Douce">―O, that must be the tuner,</said> Lydia said to Simonlionel first I saw, <said who="Lydia Douce">forgot it
<lb n="111211"/>when he was here.</said></p>
<p><lb n="111212"/>Blind he was she told George Lidwell second I saw. And played so
<lb n="111213"/>exquisitely, treat to hear. Exquisite contrast: bronzelid, minagold.
<lb n="111214"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―Shout!</said> Ben Dollard shouted, pouring. <said who="Ben Dollard">Sing out!</said>
<lb n="111215"/><said who="Father Cowley">―'lldo!</said> cried Father Cowley.</p>
<p><lb n="111216"/>Rrrrrr.</p>
<p><lb n="111217"/>I feel I want ....</p>
<p><lb n="111218"/>Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
<lb n="111219"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Very,</said> Mr Dedalus said, staring hard at a headless sardine.</p>
<p><lb n="111220"/>Under the sandwichbell lay on a bier of bread one last, one lonely, last
<lb n="111221"/>sardine of summer. Bloom alone.
<lb n="111222"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Very,</said> he stared. <said who="Simon Dedalus">The lower register, for choice.</said></p>
<p><lb n="111223"/>Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.</p>
<p><lb n="111224"/>Bloom went by Barry's. Wish I could. Wait. That wonderworker if I
<lb n="111225"/>had. Twentyfour solicitors in that one house. Counted them. Litigation.
<lb n="111226"/>Love one another. Piles of parchment. Messrs Pick and Pocket have power
<lb n="111227"/>of attorney. Goulding, Collis, Ward.</p>
<p><lb n="111228"/>But for example the chap that wallops the big drum. His vocation:
<lb n="111229"/>Mickey Rooney's band. Wonder how it first struck him. Sitting at home
<lb n="111230"/>after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the armchair. Rehearsing his
<lb n="111231"/>band part. Pom. Pompedy. Jolly for the wife. Asses' skins. Welt them
<lb n="111232"/>through life, then wallop after death. Pom. Wallop. Seems to be what you
<lb n="111233"/>call yashmak or I mean kismet. Fate.</p>
<p><lb n="111234"/>Tap. Tap. A stripling, blind, with a tapping cane came taptaptapping
<lb n="111235"/>by Daly's window where a mermaid hair all streaming (but he couldn't see)
<lb n="111236"/>blew whiffs of a mermaid (blind couldn't), mermaid, coolest whiff of all.</p>
<p><lb n="111237"/>Instruments. A blade of grass, shell of her hands, then blow. Even
<lb n="111238"/>comb and tissuepaper you can knock a tune out of. Molly in her shift in
<lb n="111239"/>Lombard street west, hair down. I suppose each kind of trade made its own,
<lb n="111240"/>don't you see? Hunter with a horn. Haw. Have you the? <foreign xml:lang="fr">Cloche. Sonnez la.</foreign>
<lb n="111241"/>Shepherd his pipe. Pwee little wee. Policeman a whistle. Locks and keys!
<lb n="111242"/>Sweep! Four o'clock's all's well! Sleep! All is lost now. Drum? Pompedy.
<lb n="111243"/>Wait. I know. Towncrier, bumbailiff. Long John. Waken the dead. Pom.
<lb n="111244"/>Dignam. Poor little <foreign xml:lang="la">nominedomine</foreign>. Pom. It is music. I mean of course it's
<lb n="111245"/>all pom pom pom very much what they call <foreign xml:lang="it">da capo</foreign>. Still you can hear. As
<lb n="111246"/>we march, we march along, march along. Pom.</p>
<p><lb n="111247"/>I must really. Fff. Now if I did that at a banquet. Just a question of
<lb n="111248"/>custom shah of Persia. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear. All the same he must
<lb n="111249"/>have been a bit of a natural not to see it was a yeoman cap. Muffled up.
<lb n="111250"/>Wonder who was that chap at the grave in the brown macin. O, the whore
<lb n="111251"/>of the lane!</p>
<p><lb n="111252"/>A frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the
<lb n="111253"/>day along the quay towards Mr Bloom. When first he saw that form
<lb n="111254"/>endearing? Yes, it is. I feel so lonely. Wet night in the lane. Horn. Who had
<lb n="111255"/>the? Heehaw shesaw. Off her beat here. What is she? Hope she. Psst! Any
<lb n="111256"/>chance of your wash. Knew Molly. Had me decked. Stout lady does be with
<lb n="111257"/>you in the brown costume. Put you off your stroke, that. Appointment we
<lb n="111258"/>made knowing we'd never, well hardly ever. Too dear too near to home
<lb n="111259"/>sweet home. Sees me, does she? Looks a fright in the day. Face like dip.
<lb n="111260"/>Damn her. O, well, she has to live like the rest. Look in here.</p>
<p><lb n="111261"/>In Lionel Marks's antique saleshop window haughty Henry Lionel
<lb n="111262"/>Leopold dear Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged
<lb n="111263"/>battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Bargain: six
<lb n="111264"/>bob. Might learn to play. Cheap. Let her pass. Course everything is dear if
<lb n="111265"/>you don't want it. That's what good salesman is. Make you buy what he
<lb n="111266"/>wants to sell. Chap sold me the Swedish razor he shaved me with. Wanted
<lb n="111267"/>to charge me for the edge he gave it. She's passing now. Six bob.</p>
<p><lb n="111268"/>Must be the cider or perhaps the burgund.</p>
<p><lb n="111269"/>Near bronze from anear near gold from afar they chinked their
<lb n="111270"/>clinking glasses all, brighteyed and gallant, before bronze Lydia's tempting
<lb n="111271"/>last rose of summer, rose of Castile. First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a fifth:
<lb n="111272"/>Lidwell, Si Dedalus, Bob Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard.</p>
<p><lb n="111273"/>Tap. A youth entered a lonely Ormond hall.</p>
<p><lb n="111274"/>Bloom viewed a gallant pictured hero in Lionel Marks's window.
<lb n="111275"/>Robert Emmet's last words. Seven last words. Of Meyerbeer that is.
<lb n="111276"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―True men like you men.</said>
<lb n="111277"/><said who="unclear: Simon Dedalus Father Cowley">―Ay, ay, Ben.</said>
<lb n="111278"/><said who="Ben Dollard">―Will lift your glass with us.</said></p>
<p><lb n="111279"/>They lifted.</p>
<p><lb n="111280"/>Tschink. Tschunk.</p>
<p><lb n="111281"/>Tip. An unseeing stripling stood in the door. He saw not bronze. He
<lb n="111282"/>saw not gold. Nor Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor
<lb n="111283"/>Richie nor Pat. Hee hee hee hee. He did not see.</p>
<p><lb n="111284"/>Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. Softly. <emph>When my country
<lb n="111285"/>takes her place among.</emph></p>
<p><lb n="111286"/>Prrprr.</p>
<p><lb n="111287"/>Must be the bur.</p>
<p><lb n="111288"/>Fff! Oo. Rrpr.</p>
<p><lb n="111289"/><emph>Nations of the earth.</emph> No-one behind. She's passed. <emph>Then and not till
<lb n="111290"/>then.</emph> Tram kran kran kran. Good oppor. Coming. Krandlkrankran. I'm
<lb n="111291"/>sure it's the burgund. Yes. One, two. <emph>Let my epitaph be.</emph> Kraaaaaa. <emph>Written.
<lb n="111292"/>I have.</emph></p>
<p><lb n="111293"/>Pprrpffrrppffff.</p>
<p><lb n="111294"/><emph>Done.</emph></p>
</div> <!-- End of Episode 11, "Sirens" -->