Ulysses(181)

(BLOOM WITH ASSES' EARS SEATS HIMSELF IN THE PILLORY WITH CROSSED ARMS, HIS FEET PROTRUDING. HE WHISTLES Don Giovanni, a cenar teco. ARTANE ORPHANS, JOINING HANDS, CAPER ROUND HIM. GIRLS OF THE PRISON GATE MISSION, JOINING HANDS, CAPER ROUND IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION.)

THE ARTANE ORPHANS:

You hig, you hog, you dirty dog! You think the ladies love you!

THE PRISON GATE GIRLS:

If you see Kay Tell him he may See you in tea Tell him from me.

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

(ALL THE PEOPLE CAST SOFT PANTOMIME STONES AT BLOOM. MANY BONAFIDE TRAVELLERS AND OWNERLESS DOGS COME NEAR HIM AND DEFILE HIM. MASTIANSKY AND CITRON APPROACH IN GABERDINES, WEARING LONG EARLOCKS. THEY WAG THEIR BEARDS AT BLOOM.)

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

(GEORGE R MESIAS, BLOOM'S TAILOR, APPEARS, A TAILOR'S GOOSE UNDER HIS ARM, PRESENTING A BILL)

MESIAS: To alteration one pair trousers eleven shillings.

BLOOM: (RUBS HIS HANDS CHEERFULLY) Just like old times. Poor Bloom!

(REUBEN J DODD, BLACKBEARDED ISCARIOT, BAD SHEPHERD, BEARING ON HIS SHOULDERS THE DROWNED CORPSE OF HIS SON, APPROACHES THE PILLORY.)

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

THE FIRE BRIGADE: Pflaap!

BROTHER BUZZ: (INVESTS BLOOM IN A YELLOW HABIT WITH EMBROIDERY OF PAINTED FLAMES AND HIGH POINTED HAT. HE PLACES A BAG OF GUNPOWDER ROUND HIS NECK AND HANDS HIM OVER TO THE CIVIL POWER, SAYING) Forgive him his trespasses.

(LIEUTENANT MYERS OF THE DUBLIN FIRE BRIGADE BY GENERAL REQUEST SETS FIRE TO BLOOM. LAMENTATIONS.)

THE CITIZEN: Thank heaven!

BLOOM: (IN A SEAMLESS GARMENT MARKED I. H. S. STANDS UPRIGHT AMID PHOENIX FLAMES) Weep not for me, O daughters of Erin.

(HE EXHIBITS TO DUBLIN REPORTERS TRACES OF BURNING. THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN, IN BLACK GARMENTS, WITH LARGE PRAYERBOOKS AND LONG LIGHTED CANDLES IN THEIR HANDS, KNEEL DOWN AND PRAY.)

THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN:

Kidney of Bloom, pray for us Flower of the Bath, pray for us Mentor of Menton, pray for us Canvasser for the Freeman, pray for us Charitable Mason, pray for us Wandering Soap, pray for us Sweets of Sin, pray for us Music without Words, pray for us Reprover of the Citizen, pray for us Friend of all Frillies, pray for us Midwife Most Merciful, pray for us Potato Preservative against Plague and Pestilence, pray for us.

(A CHOIR OF SIX HUNDRED VOICES, CONDUCTED BY VINCENT O'BRIEN, SINGS THE CHORUS FROM HANDEL'S MESSIAH ALLELUIA FOR THE LORD GOD OMNIPOTENT REIGNETH, ACCOMPANIED ON THE ORGAN BY JOSEPH GLYNN. BLOOM BECOMES MUTE, SHRUNKEN, CARBONISED.)

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

BLOOM: (IN CAUBEEN WITH CLAY PIPE STUCK IN THE BAND, DUSTY BROGUES, AN EMIGRANT'S RED HANDKERCHIEF BUNDLE IN HIS HAND, LEADING A BLACK BOGOAK PIG BY A SUGAUN, WITH A SMILE IN HIS EYE) Let me be going now, woman of the house, for by all the goats in Connemara I'm after having the father and mother of a bating. (WITH A TEAR IN HIS EYE) All insanity. Patriotism, sorrow for the dead, music, future of the race. To be or not to be. Life's dream is o'er. End it peacefully. They can live on. (HE GAZES FAR AWAY MOURNFULLY) I am ruined. A few pastilles of aconite. The blinds drawn. A letter. Then lie back to rest. (HE BREATHES SOFTLY) No more. I have lived. Fare. Farewell.

ZOE: (STIFFLY, HER FINGER IN HER NECKFILLET) Honest? Till the next time. (SHE SNEERS) Suppose you got up the wrong side of the bed or came too quick with your best girl. O, I can read your thoughts!

BLOOM: (BITTERLY) Man and woman, love, what is it? A cork and bottle. I'm sick of it. Let everything rip.

ZOE: (IN SUDDEN SULKS) I hate a rotter that's insincere. Give a bleeding whore a chance.

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

ZOE: (GLIBLY) Hog's Norton where the pigs plays the organs. I'm Yorkshire born. (SHE HOLDS HIS HAND WHICH IS FEELING FOR HER NIPPLE) I say, Tommy Tittlemouse. Stop that and begin worse. Have you cash for a short time? Ten shillings?

BLOOM: (SMILES, NODS SLOWLY) More, houri, more.

ZOE: And more's mother? (SHE PATS HIM OFFHANDEDLY WITH VELVET PAWS) Are you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola? Come and I'll peel off.

BLOOM: (FEELING HIS OCCIPUT DUBIOUSLY WITH THE UNPARALLELED EMBARRASSMENT OF A HARASSED PEDLAR GAUGING THE SYMMETRY OF HER PEELED PEARS) Somebody would be dreadfully jealous if she knew. The greeneyed monster. (EARNESTLY) You know how difficult it is. I needn't tell you.

ZOE: (FLATTERED) What the eye can't see the heart can't grieve for. (SHE PATS HIM) Come.

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