efore worse happens.
Here's your stick.

STEPHEN: Stick, no. Reason. This feast of pure reason.

CISSY CAFFREY: _(Pulling Private Carr)_ Come on, you're boosed. He
insulted me but I forgive him. _(Shouting in his ear)_ I forgive him for
insulting me.

BLOOM: _(Over Stephen's shoulder)_ Yes, go. You see he's incapable.

PRIVATE CARR: _(Breaks loose)_ I'll insult him.

_(He rushes towards Stephen, fist outstretched, and strikes him in the
face. Stephen totters, collapses, falls, stunned. He lies prone, his
face to the sky, his hat rolling to the wall. Bloom follows and picks it
up.)_

MAJOR TWEEDY: _(Loudly)_ Carbine in bucket! Cease fire! Salute!

THE RETRIEVER: _(Barking furiously)_ Ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute.

THE CROWD: Let him up! Don't strike him when he's down! Air! Who? The
soldier hit him. He's a professor. Is he hurted? Don't manhandle him!
He's fainted!

A HAG: What call had the redcoat to strike the gentleman and he under
the influence. Let them go and fight the Boers!

THE BAWD: Listen to who's talking! Hasn't the soldier a right to go with
his girl? He gave him the coward's blow.

_(They grab at each other's hair, claw at each other and spit)_

THE RETRIEVER: _(Barking)_ Wow wow wow.

BLOOM: _(Shoves them back, loudly)_ Get back, stand back!

PRIVATE COMPTON: _(Tugging his comrade)_ Here. Bugger off, Harry. Here's
the cops! _(Two raincaped watch, tall, stand in the group.)_

FIRST WATCH: What's wrong here?

PRIVATE COMPTON: We were with this lady. And he insulted us. And
assaulted my chum. _(The retriever barks)_ Who owns the bleeding tyke?

CISSY CAFFREY: _(With expectation)_ Is he bleeding!

A MAN: _(Rising from his knees)_ No. Gone off. He'll come to all right.

BLOOM: _(Glances sharply at the man)_ Leave him to me. I can easily...

SECOND WATCH: Who are you? Do you know him?

PRIVATE CARR: _(Lurches towards the watch)_ He insulted my lady friend.

BLOOM: _(Angrily)_ You hit him without provocation. I'm a witness.
Constable, take his regimental number.

SECOND WATCH: I don't want your instructions in the discharge of my
duty.

PRIVATE COMPTON: _(Pulling his comrade)_ Here, bugger off Harry. Or
Bennett'll shove you in the lockup.

PRIVATE CARR: _(Staggering as he is pulled away)_ God fuck old Bennett.
He's a whitearsed bugger. I don't give a shit for him.

FIRST WATCH: _(Takes out his notebook)_ What's his name?

BLOOM: _(Peering over the crowd)_ I just see a car there