Part 133 (1/2)

d.a.m.n death. Long live life!

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: _(Levitates over heaps of slain, in the garb and with the halo of Joking Jesus, a white jujube in his phosph.o.r.escent face)_

My methods are new and are causing surprise. To make the blind see I throw dust in their eyes.

STEPHEN: Kings and unicorns! _(He fills back a pace)_ Come somewhere and we'll... What was that girl saying?...

PRIVATE COMPTON: Eh, Harry, give him a kick in the knackers. Stick one into Jerry.

BLOOM: _(To the privates, softly)_ He doesn't know what he's saying.

Taken a little more than is good for him. Absinthe. Greeneyed monster. I know him. He's a gentleman, a poet. It's all right.

STEPHEN: _(Nods, smiling and laughing)_ Gentleman, patriot, scholar and judge of impostors.

PRIVATE CARR: I don't give a b.u.g.g.e.r who he is.

PRIVATE COMPTON: We don't give a b.u.g.g.e.r who he is.

STEPHEN: I seem to annoy them. Green rag to a bull.

_(Kevin Egan of Paris in black Spanish ta.s.selled s.h.i.+rt and peep-o'-day boy's hat signs to Stephen.)_

KEVIN EGAN: H'lo! _Bonjour!_ The _vieille ogresse_ with the _dents jaunes_.

_(Patrice Egan peeps from behind, his rabbitface nibbling a quince leaf.)_

PATRICE: _Socialiste!_

DON EMILE PATRIZIO FRANZ RUPERT POPE HENNESSY: _(In medieval hauberk, two wild geese volant on his helm, with n.o.ble indignation points a mailed hand against the privates)_ Werf those eykes to footboden, big grand porcos of johnyellows todos covered of gravy!

BLOOM: _(To Stephen)_ Come home. You'll get into trouble.

STEPHEN: _(Swaying)_ I don't avoid it. He provokes my intelligence.

BIDDY THE CLAP: One immediately observes that he is of patrician lineage.

THE VIRAGO: Green above the red, says he. Wolfe Tone.

THE BAWD: The red's as good as the green. And better. Up the soldiers!

Up King Edward!

A ROUGH: _(Laughs)_ Ay! Hands up to De Wet.

THE CITIZEN: _(With a huge emerald m.u.f.fler and s.h.i.+llelagh, calls)_

May the G.o.d above Send down a dove With teeth as sharp as razors To slit the throats Of the English dogs That hanged our Irish leaders.

THE CROPPY BOY: _(The ropenoose round his neck, gripes in his issuing bowels with both hands)_

I bear no hate to a living thing, But I love my country beyond the king.