ry
lesbic the kiss five ten times. Enter, gentleman, to see in mirror every
positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act
awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on
the belly _piece de Shakespeare._

BELLA: _(Clapping her belly sinks back on the sofa, with a shout of
laughter)_ An omelette on the... Ho! ho! ho! ho!... omelette on the...

STEPHEN: _(Mincingly)_ I love you, sir darling. Speak you englishman
tongue for _double entente cordiale._ O yes, _mon loup_. How much cost?
Waterloo. Watercloset. _(He ceases suddenly and holds up a forefinger)_

BELLA: _(Laughing)_ Omelette...

THE WHORES: _(Laughing)_ Encore! Encore!

STEPHEN: Mark me. I dreamt of a watermelon.

ZOE: Go abroad and love a foreign lady.

LYNCH: Across the world for a wife.

FLORRY: Dreams goes by contraries.

STEPHEN: _(Extends his arms)_ It was here. Street of harlots. In
Serpentine avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a fubsy widow. Where's the
red carpet spread?

BLOOM: _(Approaching Stephen)_ Look...

STEPHEN: No, I flew. My foes beneath me. And ever shall be. World
without end. _(He cries) P_ater! Free!

BLOOM: I say, look...

STEPHEN: Break my spirit, will he? _O merde alors! (He cries, his
vulture talons sharpened)_ Hola! Hillyho!

_(Simon Dedalus' voice hilloes in answer, somewhat sleepy but ready.)_

SIMON: That's all right. _(He swoops uncertainly through the air,
wheeling, uttering cries of heartening, on strong ponderous buzzard
wings)_ Ho, boy! Are you going to win? Hoop! Pschatt! Stable with those
halfcastes. Wouldn't let them within the bawl of an ass. Head up! Keep
our flag flying! An eagle gules volant in a field argent displayed.
Ulster king at arms! Haihoop! _(He makes the beagle's call, giving
tongue)_ Bulbul! Burblblburblbl! Hai, boy!

_(The fronds and spaces of the wallpaper file rapidly across country.
A stout fox, drawn from covert, brush pointed, having buried his
grandmother, runs swift for the open, brighteyed, seeking badger earth,
under the leaves. The pack of staghounds follows, nose to the ground,
sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be blooded. Ward
Union huntsmen and huntswomen live with them, hot for a kill. From Six
Mile Point, Flathouse, Nine Mile Stone follow the footpeople with knotty
sticks, hayforks, salmongaffs, lassos, flockmasters with stockwhips,
bearbaiters with tomtoms, toreadors with bullswords, greynegroes
waving torches. Th