hanker after. Wallow in
it. Lycopodium. _(His throat twitches)_ Slapbang! There he goes again.

BLOOM: The stye I dislike.

VIRAG: _(Arches his eyebrows)_ Contact with a goldring, they say.
_Argumentum ad feminam_, as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece
in the consulship of Diplodocus and Ichthyosauros. For the rest Eve's
sovereign remedy. Not for sale. Hire only. Huguenot. _(He twitches)_ It
is a funny sound. _(He coughs encouragingly)_ But possibly it is only a
wart. I presume you shall have remembered what I will have taught you on
that head? Wheatenmeal with honey and nutmeg.

BLOOM: _(Reflecting)_ Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax. This
searching ordeal. It has been an unusually fatiguing day, a chapter of
accidents. Wait. I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you said...

VIRAG: _(Severely, his nose hardhumped, his side eye winking)_ Stop
twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk. See, you have forgotten.
Exercise your mnemotechnic. _La causa e santa_. Tara. Tara. _(Aside)_ He
will surely remember.

BLOOM: Rosemary also did I understand you to say or willpower over
parasitic tissues. Then nay no I have an inkling. The touch of a
deadhand cures. Mnemo?

VIRAG: _(Excitedly)_ I say so. I say so. E'en so. Technic. _(He taps his
parchmentroll energetically)_ This book tells you how to act with all
descriptive particulars. Consult index for agitated fear of aconite,
melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla. Virag is going to talk about
amputation. Our old friend caustic. They must be starved. Snip off with
horsehair under the denned neck. But, to change the venue to the Bulgar
and the Basque, have you made up your mind whether you like or dislike
women in male habiliments? _(With a dry snigger)_ You intended to devote
an entire year to the study of the religious problem and the summer
months of 1886 to square the circle and win that million. Pomegranate!
From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step. Pyjamas, let us say?
Or stockingette gussetted knickers, closed? Or, put we the case,
those complicated combinations, camiknickers? _(He crows derisively)_
Keekeereekee!

_(Bloom surveys uncertainly the three whores then gazes at the veiled
mauve light, hearing the everflying moth.)_

BLOOM: I wanted then to have now concluded. Nightdress was never. Hence
this. But tomorrow is a new day will be. Past was is today. What now is
will then morrow as now was be past yester.

VIRAG: _(Prompts in a pig's