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"BLOOM I want to tell you a little secret about how I came to be here. But you must never tell. Not even Molly. I have a most particular reason. MRS BREEN (All agog.) O, not for worlds. BLOOM Let's walk on. Shall us? MRS BREEN Let's. (The bawd makes an unheeded sign. Bloom walks on with Mrs Breen. The terrier follows, whining piteously, wagging his tail.)" (U15.522) |
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"BLOOM I mean, Leopardstown. And Molly won seven shillings on a three year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that old fiveseater shanderadan of a waggonette" (U15.545) |
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"BLOOM Because it didn't suit you one quarter as well as the other ducky little tammy toque with the bird of paradise wing in it that I admired on you and you honestly looked just too fetching in it though it was a pity to kill it, you cruel naughty creature, little mite of a thing with a heart the size of a fullstop. MRS BREEN (Squeezes his arm, simpers.) Naughty cruel I was!" (U15.553) |
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"BLOOM (Scared, hats himself, steps back, then, plucking at his heart and lifting his right forearm on the square, he gives the sign and dueguard of fellowcraft.) No, no, worshipful master, light of love. Mistaken identity. The Lyons mail. Lesurques and Dubosc. You remember the Childs fratricide case. We medical men. By striking him dead with a hatchet. I am wrongfully accused. Better one guilty escape than ninetynine wrongfully condemned." (U15.557) |
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"In an archway a standing woman, bent forward, her feet apart, pisses cowily. Outside a shuttered pub a bunch of loiterers listen to a tale which their brokensnouted gaffer rasps out with raucous humour. An armless pair of them flop wrestling, growling, in maimed sodden playfight.) THE GAFFER (Crouches, his voice twisted in his snout.) And when Cairns came down from the scaffolding in Beaver Street what was he after doing it into only into the bucket of porter that was there waiting on the shavings for Derwan's plasterers." (U15.578) |
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"(Bloom passes. Cheap whores, singly, coupled, shawled, dishevelled, call from lanes, doors, corners.)" (U15.597) |
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"THE WHORES Are you going far, queer fellow? How's your middle leg? Got a match on you? Eh, come here till I stiffen it for you." (U15.599) |
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"(He plodges through their sump towards the lighted street beyond. From a bulge of window curtains a gramophone rears a battered brazen trunk. In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the navvy and the two redcoats.) THE NAVVY (Belching.) Where's the bloody house? THE SHEBEENKEEPER Purdon street. Shilling a bottle of stout. Respectable woman." (U15.604) |
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"THE NAVVY (Gripping the two redcoats, staggers forward with them.) Come on, you British army! PRIVATE CARR (Behind his back.) He aint half balmy. PRIVATE COMPTON (Laughs.) What ho!" (U15.613) This CDV shows a turn of the century British soldier, photographed by Lauder Bros. in Dublin. |
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"PRIVATE CARR (To the navvy.) Portobello barracks canteen. You ask for Carr. Just Carr." (U15.620) |
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"The dog approaches, his tongue outlolling, panting.) BLOOM Wildgoose chase this. Disorderly houses. Lord knows where they are gone. Drunks cover distance double quick. Nice mixup. Scene at Westland row." (U15.633) |
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"Then jump in first class with third ticket." (U15.637) |
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"Then too far. Train with engine behind. Might have taken me to Malahide or a siding for the night or collision. Second drink does it. Once is a dose. What am I following him for? Still, he's the best of that lot. If I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have met. Kismet." (U15.637) |
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"(He gazes ahead reading on the wall a scrawled chalk legend Wet Dream and a phallic design.) Odd! Molly drawing on the frosted carriagepane at Kingstown. What's that like? (Gaudy dollwomen loll in the lighted doorways, in window embrasures, smoking birdseye cigarettes." (U15.649) |
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"smoking birdseye cigarettes. The odour of the sicksweet weed floats towards him in slow round ovalling wreaths.) THE WREATHS Sweet are the sweets. Sweets of sin." (U15.652) |