gh our ages. Will write fully tomorrow. I'm partially
drunk, by the way. _(He touches the keys again)_ Minor chord comes now.
Yes. Not much however.

_(Almidano Artifoni holds out a batonroll of music with vigorous
moustachework.)_

ARTIFONI: _Ci rifletta. Lei rovina tutto._

FLORRY: Sing us something. Love's old sweet song.

STEPHEN: No voice. I am a most finished artist. Lynch, did I show you
the letter about the lute?

FLORRY: _(Smirking)_ The bird that can sing and won't sing.

_(The Siamese twins, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober, two Oxford dons with
lawnmowers, appear in the window embrasure. Both are masked with Matthew
Arnold's face.)_

PHILIP SOBER: Take a fool's advice. All is not well. Work it out with
the buttend of a pencil, like a good young idiot. Three pounds twelve
you got, two notes, one sovereign, two crowns, if youth but knew.
Mooney's en ville, Mooney's sur mer, the Moira, Larchet's, Holles street
hospital, Burke's. Eh? I am watching you.

PHILIP DRUNK: _(Impatiently)_ Ah, bosh, man. Go to hell! I paid my way.
If I could only find out about octaves. Reduplication of personality.
Who was it told me his name? _(His lawnmower begins to purr)_ Aha, yes.
_Zoe mou sas agapo_. Have a notion I was here before. When was it not
Atkinson his card I have somewhere. Mac Somebody. Unmack I have it. He
told me about, hold on, Swinburne, was it, no?

FLORRY: And the song?

STEPHEN: Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.

FLORRY: Are you out of Maynooth? You're like someone I knew once.

STEPHEN: Out of it now. _(To himself)_ Clever.

PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER: _(Their lawnmowers purring with a
rigadoon of grasshalms)_ Clever ever. Out of it out of it. By the
bye have you the book, the thing, the ashplant? Yes, there it, yes.
Cleverever outofitnow. Keep in condition. Do like us.

ZOE: There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of
business with his coat buttoned up. You needn't try to hide, I says to
him. I know you've a Roman collar.

VIRAG: Perfectly logical from his standpoint. Fall of man. _(Harshly,
his pupils waxing)_ To hell with the pope! Nothing new under the sun. I
am the Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens. Why
I left the church of Rome. Read the Priest, the Woman and the
Confessional. Penrose. Flipperty Jippert. _(He wriggles)_ Woman, undoing
with sweet pudor her belt of rushrope, offers her allmoist yoni to man's
lingam. Short time after man pres