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 a