sses her long hair)_ Your classic curves, beautiful
immortal, I was glad to look on you, to praise you, a thing of beauty,
almost to pray.

THE NYMPH: During dark nights I heard your praise.

BLOOM: _(Quickly)_ Yes, yes. You mean that I... Sleep reveals the worst
side of everyone, children perhaps excepted. I know I fell out of bed
or rather was pushed. Steel wine is said to cure snoring. For the rest
there is that English invention, pamphlet of which I received some days
ago, incorrectly addressed. It claims to afford a noiseless, inoffensive
vent. _(He sighs)_ 'Twas ever thus. Frailty, thy name is marriage.

THE NYMPH: _(Her fingers in her ears)_ And words. They are not in my
dictionary.

BLOOM: You understood them?

THE YEWS: Ssh!

THE NYMPH: _(Covers her face with her hands)_ What have I not seen in
that chamber? What must my eyes look down on?

BLOOM: _(Apologetically)_ I know. Soiled personal linen, wrong side up
with care. The quoits are loose. From Gibraltar by long sea long ago.

THE NYMPH: _(Bends her head)_ Worse, worse!

BLOOM: _(Reflects precautiously)_ That antiquated commode. It wasn't her
weight. She scaled just eleven stone nine. She put on nine pounds
after weaning. It was a crack and want of glue. Eh? And that absurd
orangekeyed utensil which has only one handle.

_(The sound of a waterfall is heard in bright cascade.)_

THE WATERFALL:

Poulaphouca Poulaphouca
Poulaphouca Poulaphouca.

THE YEWS: _(Mingling their boughs)_ Listen. Whisper. She is right, our
sister. We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall. We gave shade on languorous
summer days.

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: _(In the background, in Irish National Forester's
uniform, doffs his plumed hat)_ Prosper! Give shade on languorous days,
trees of Ireland!

THE YEWS: _(Murmuring)_ Who came to Poulaphouca with the High School
excursion? Who left his nutquesting classmates to seek our shade?

BLOOM: _(Scared)_ High School of Poula? Mnemo? Not in full possession of
faculties. Concussion. Run over by tram.

THE ECHO: Sham!

BLOOM: _(Pigeonbreasted, bottleshouldered, padded, in nondescript
juvenile grey and black striped suit, too small for him, white tennis
shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops and a red schoolcap with
badge)_ I was in my teens, a growing boy. A little then sufficed, a
jolting car, the mingling odours of the ladies' cloakroom and lavatory,
the throng penned tight on the old Royal stairs (for they love crushes,