Ulysses by James Joyce (ready to read books TXT) 📖

STANDS FORTH, HOLDING A BUNCH OF KEYS TIED WITH CRAPE. BESIDE HIM STANDS FATHER COFFEY, CHAPLAIN, TOADBELLIED, WRYNECKED, IN A SURPLICE AND BANDANNA NIGHTCAP, HOLDING SLEEPILY A STAFF TWISTED POPPIES.)

FATHER COFFEY: (YAWNS, THEN CHANTS WITH A HOARSE CROAK) Namine. Jacobs. Vobiscuits. Amen.

JOHN O’CONNELL: (FOGHORNS STORMILY THROUGH HIS MEGAPHONE) Dignam, Patrick T, deceased.

PADDY DIGNAM: (WITH PRICKED UP EARS, WINCES) Overtones. (HE WRIGGLES FORWARD AND PLACES AN EAR TO THE GROUND) My master’s voice!

JOHN O’CONNELL: Burial docket letter number U. P. eightyfive thousand. Field seventeen. House of Keys. Plot, one hundred and one.

(PADDY DIGNAM LISTENS WITH VISIBLE EFFORT, THINKING, HIS TAIL STIFFPOINTCD, HIS EARS COCKED.)

PADDY DIGNAM: Pray for the repose of his soul.

(HE WORMS DOWN THROUGH A COALHOLE, HIS BROWN HABIT TRAILING ITS TETHER OVER RATTLING PEBBLES. AFTER HIM TODDLES AN OBESE GRANDFATHER RAT ON FUNGUS TURTLE PAWS UNDER A GREY CARAPACE. DIGNAM’S VOICE, MUFFLED, IS HEARD BAYING UNDER GROUND: Dignam’s dead and gone below. TOM ROCHFORD, ROBINREDBREASTED, IN CAP AND BREECHES, JUMPS FROM HIS TWOCOLUMNED MACHINE.)

TOM ROCHFORD: (A HAND TO HIS BREASTBONE, BOWS) Reuben J. A florin I find him. (HE FIXES THE MANHOLE WITH A RESOLUTE STARE) My turn now on. Follow me up to Carlow.

(HE EXECUTES A DAREDEVIL SALMON LEAP IN THE AIR AND IS ENGULFED IN THE COALHOLE. TWO DISCS ON THE COLUMNS WOBBLE, EYES OF NOUGHT. ALL RECEDES. BLOOM PLODGES FORWARD AGAIN THROUGH THE SUMP. KISSES CHIRP AMID THE RIFTS OF FOG A PIANO SOUNDS. HE STANDS BEFORE A LIGHTED HOUSE, LISTENING. THE KISSES, WINGING FROM THEIR BOWERS FLY ABOUT HIM, TWITTERING, WARBLING, COOING.)

THE KISSES: (WARBLING) Leo! (TWITTERING) Icky licky micky sticky for Leo! (COOING) Coo coocoo! Yummyyum, Womwom! (WARBLING) Big comebig! Pirouette! Leopopold! (TWITTERING) Leeolee! (WARBLING) O Leo!

(THEY RUSTLE, FLUTTER UPON HIS GARMENTS, ALIGHT, BRIGHT GIDDY FLECKS, SILVERY SEQUINS.)

BLOOM: A man’s touch. Sad music. Church music. Perhaps here.

(ZOE HIGGINS, A YOUNG WHORE IN A SAPPHIRE SLIP, CLOSED WITH THREE BRONZE BUCKLES, A SLIM BLACK VELVET FILLET ROUND HER THROAT, NODS, TRIPS DOWN THE STEPS AND ACCOSTS HIM.)

ZOE: Are you looking for someone? He’s inside with his friend.

BLOOM: Is this Mrs Mack’s?

ZOE: No, eightyone. Mrs Cohen’s. You might go farther and fare worse. Mother Slipperslapper. (FAMILIARLY) She’s on the job herself tonight with the vet her tipster that gives her all the winners and pays for her son in Oxford. Working overtime but her luck’s turned today. (SUSPICIOUSLY) You’re not his father, are you?

BLOOM: Not I!

ZOE: You both in black. Has little mousey any tickles tonight?

(HIS SKIN, ALERT, FEELS HER FINGERTIPS APPROACH. A HAND GLIDES OVER HIS LEFT THIGH.)

ZOE: How’s the nuts?

BLOOM: Off side. Curiously they are on the right. Heavier, I suppose. One in a million my tailor, Mesias, says.

ZOE: (IN SUDDEN ALARM) You’ve a hard chancre.

BLOOM: Not likely.

ZOE: I feel it.

(HER HAND SLIDES INTO HIS LEFT TROUSER POCKET AND BRINGS OUT A HARD BLACK SHRIVELLED POTATO. SHE REGARDS IT AND BLOOM WITH DUMB MOIST LIPS.)

BLOOM: A talisman. Heirloom.

ZOE: For Zoe? For keeps? For being so nice, eh?

(SHE PUTS THE POTATO GREEDILY INTO A POCKET THEN LINKS HIS ARM, CUDDLING HIM WITH SUPPLE WARMTH. HE SMILES UNEASILY. SLOWLY, NOTE BY NOTE, ORIENTAL MUSIC IS PLAYED. HE GAZES IN THE TAWNY CRYSTAL OF HER EYES, RINGED WITH KOHOL. HIS SMILE SOFTENS.)

ZOE: You’ll know me the next time.

BLOOM: (FORLORNLY) I never loved a dear gazelle but it was sure to …

(GAZELLES ARE LEAPING, FEEDING ON THE MOUNTAINS. NEAR ARE LAKES. ROUND THEIR SHORES FILE SHADOWS BLACK OF CEDARGROVES. AROMA RISES, A STRONG HAIRGROWTH OF RESIN. IT BURNS, THE ORIENT, A SKY OF SAPPHIRE, CLEFT BY THE BRONZE FLIGHT OF EAGLES. UNDER IT LIES THE WOMANCITY NUDE, WHITE, STILL, COOL, IN LUXURY. A FOUNTAIN MURMURS AMONG DAMASK ROSES. MAMMOTH ROSES MURMUR OF SCARLET WINEGRAPES. A WINE OF SHAME, LUST, BLOOD EXUDES, STRANGELY MURMURING.)

ZOE: (MURMURING SINGSONG WITH THE MUSIC, HER ODALISK LIPS LUSCIOUSLY SMEARED WITH SALVE OF SWINEFAT AND ROSEWATER) SCHORACH ANI WENOWACH, BENOITH HIERUSHALOIM.

BLOOM: (FASCINATED) I thought you were of good stock by your accent.

ZOE: And you know what thought did?

(SHE BITES HIS EAR GENTLY WITH LITTLE GOLDSTOPPED TEETH, SENDING ON HIM A CLOYING BREATH OF STALE GARLIC. THE ROSES DRAW APART, DISCLOSE A SEPULCHRE OF THE GOLD OF KINGS AND THEIR MOULDERING BONES.)

BLOOM: (DRAWS BACK, MECHANICALLY CARESSING HER RIGHT BUB WITH A FLAT AWKWARD HAND) Are you a Dublin girl?

ZOE: (CATCHES A STRAY HAIR DEFTLY AND TWISTS IT TO HER COIL) No bloody fear. I’m English. Have you a swaggerroot?

BLOOM: (AS BEFORE) Rarely smoke, dear. Cigar now and then. Childish device. (LEWDLY) The mouth can be better engaged than with a cylinder of rank weed.

ZOE: Go on. Make a stump speech out of it.

BLOOM: (IN WORKMAN’S CORDUROY OVERALLS, BLACK GANSY WITH RED FLOATING TIE AND APACHE CAP) Mankind is incorrigible. Sir Walter Ralegh brought from the new world that potato and that weed, the one a killer of pestilence by absorption, the other a poisoner of the ear, eye, heart, memory, will understanding, all. That is to say he brought the poison a hundred years before another person whose name I forget brought the food. Suicide. Lies. All our habits. Why, look at our public life!

(MIDNIGHT CHIMES FROM DISTANT STEEPLES.)

THE CHIMES: Turn again, Leopold! Lord mayor of Dublin!

BLOOM: (IN ALDERMAN’S GOWN AND CHAIN) Electors of Arran Quay, Inns Quay, Rotunda, Mountjoy and North Dock, better run a tramline, I say, from the cattlemarket to the river. That’s the music of the future. That’s my programme. CUI BONO? But our bucaneering Vanderdeckens in their phantom ship of finance …

AN ELECTOR: Three times three for our future chief magistrate!

(THE AURORA BOREALIS OF THE TORCHLIGHT PROCESSION LEAPS.)

THE TORCHBEARERS: Hooray!

(SEVERAL WELLKNOWN BURGESSES, CITY MAGNATES AND FREEMEN OF THE CITY SHAKE HANDS WITH BLOOM AND CONGRATULATE HIM. TIMOTHY HARRINGTON, LATE THRICE LORD MAYOR OF DUBLIN, IMPOSING IN MAYORAL SCARLET, GOLD CHAIN AND WHITE SILK TIE, CONFERS WITH COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK, LOCUM TENENS. THEY NOD VIGOROUSLY IN AGREEMENT.)

LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: (IN SCARLET ROBE WITH MACE, GOLD MAYORAL CHAIN AND LARGE WHITE SILK SCARF) That alderman sir Leo Bloom’s speech be printed at the expense of the ratepayers. That the house in which he was born be ornamented with a commemorative tablet and that the thoroughfare hitherto known as Cow Parlour off Cork street be henceforth designated Boulevard Bloom.

COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: Carried unanimously.

BLOOM: (IMPASSIONEDLY) These flying Dutchmen or lying Dutchmen as they recline in their upholstered poop, casting dice, what reck they? Machines is their cry, their chimera, their panacea. Laboursaving apparatuses, supplanters, bugbears, manufactured monsters for mutual murder, hideous hobgoblins produced by a horde of capitalistic lusts upon our prostituted labour. The poor man starves while they are grassing their royal mountain stags or shooting peasants and phartridges in their purblind pomp of pelf and power. But their reign is rover for rever and ever and ev …

(PROLONGED APPLAUSE. VENETIAN MASTS, MAYPOLES AND FESTAL ARCHES SPRING UP. A STREAMER BEARING THE LEGENDS Cead Mile Failte AND Mah Ttob Melek Israel SPANS THE STREET. ALL THE WINDOWS ARE THRONGED WITH SIGHTSEERS, CHIEFLY LADIES. ALONG THE ROUTE THE REGIMENTS OF THE ROYAL DUBLIN FUSILIERS, THE KING’S OWN SCOTTISH BORDERERS, THE CAMERON HIGHLANDERS AND THE WELSH FUSILIERS STANDING TO ATTENTION, KEEP BACK THE CROWD. BOYS FROM HIGH SCHOOL ARE PERCHED ON THE LAMPPOSTS, TELEGRAPH POLES, WINDOWSILLS, CORNICES, GUTTERS, CHIMNEYPOTS, RAILINGS, RAINSPOUTS, WHISTLING AND CHEERING THE PILLAR OF THE CLOUD APPEARS. A FIFE AND DRUM BAND IS HEARD IN THE DISTANCE PLAYING THE KOL NIDRE. THE BEATERS APPROACH WITH IMPERIAL EAGLES HOISTED, TRAILING BANNERS AND WAVING ORIENTAL PALMS. THE CHRYSELEPHANTINE PAPAL STANDARD RISES HIGH, SURROUNDED BY PENNONS OF THE CIVIC FLAG. THE VAN OF THE PROCESSION APPEARS HEADED BY JOHN HOWARD PARNELL, CITY MARSHAL, IN A CHESSBOARD TABARD, THE ATHLONE POURSUIVANT AND ULSTER KING OF ARMS. THEY ARE FOLLOWED BY THE RIGHT HONOURABLE JOSEPH HUTCHINSON, LORD MAYOR OF DUBLIN, HIS LORDSHIP THE LORD MAYOR OF CORK, THEIR WORSHIPS THE MAYORS OF LIMERICK, GALWAY, SLIGO AND WATERFORD, TWENTYEIGHT IRISH REPRESENTATIVE PEERS, SIRDARS, GRANDEES AND MAHARAJAHS BEARING THE CLOTH OF ESTATE, THE DUBLIN METROPOLITAN FIRE BRIGADE, THE CHAPTER OF THE SAINTS OF FINANCE IN THEIR PLUTOCRATIC ORDER OF PRECEDENCE, THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR, HIS EMINENCE MICHAEL CARDINAL LOGUE, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH, PRIMATE OF ALL IRELAND, HIS GRACE, THE MOST REVEREND DR WILLIAM ALEXANDER, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH, PRIMATE OF ALL IRELAND, THE CHIEF RABBI, THE PRESBYTERIAN MODERATOR, THE HEADS OF THE BAPTIST, ANABAPTIST, METHODIST AND MORAVIAN CHAPELS AND THE HONORARY SECRETARY OF THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS. AFTER THEM MARCH THE GUILDS AND TRADES AND TRAINBANDS WITH FLYING COLOURS: COOPERS, BIRD FANCIERS, MILLWRIGHTS, NEWSPAPER CANVASSERS, LAW SCRIVENERS, MASSEURS, VINTNERS, TRUSSMAKERS, CHIMNEYSWEEPS, LARD REFINERS, TABINET AND POPLIN WEAVERS, FARRIERS, ITALIAN WAREHOUSEMEN, CHURCH DECORATORS, BOOTJACK MANUFACTURERS, UNDERTAKERS, SILK MERCERS, LAPIDARIES, SALESMASTERS, CORKCUTTERS, ASSESSORS OF FIRE LOSSES, DYERS AND CLEANERS, EXPORT BOTTLERS, FELLMONGERS, TICKETWRITERS, HERALDIC SEAL ENGRAVERS, HORSE REPOSITORY HANDS, BULLION BROKERS, CRICKET AND ARCHERY OUTFITTERS, RIDDLEMAKERS, EGG AND POTATO FACTORS, HOSIERS AND GLOVERS, PLUMBING CONTRACTORS. AFTER THEM MARCH GENTLEMEN OF THE BEDCHAMBER, BLACK ROD, DEPUTY GARTER, GOLD STICK, THE MASTER OF HORSE, THE LORD GREAT CHAMBERLAIN, THE EARL MARSHAL, THE HIGH CONSTABLE CARRYING THE SWORD OF STATE, SAINT STEPHEN’S IRON CROWN, THE CHALICE AND BIBLE. FOUR BUGLERS ON FOOT BLOW A SENNET. BEEFEATERS REPLY, WINDING CLARIONS OF WELCOME. UNDER AN ARCH OF TRIUMPH BLOOM APPEARS, BAREHEADED, IN A CRIMSON VELVET MANTLE TRIMMED WITH ERMINE, BEARING SAINT EDWARD’S STAFF THE ORB AND SCEPTRE WITH THE DOVE, THE CURTANA. HE IS SEATED ON A MILKWHITE HORSE WITH LONG FLOWING CRIMSON TAIL, RICHLY CAPARISONED, WITH GOLDEN HEADSTALL. WILD EXCITEMENT. THE LADIES FROM THEIR BALCONIES THROW DOWN ROSEPETALS. THE AIR IS PERFUMED WITH ESSENCES. THE MEN CHEER. BLOOM’S BOYS RUN AMID THE BYSTANDERS WITH BRANCHES OF HAWTHORN AND WRENBUSHES.)

BLOOM’S BOYS:

 

The wren, the wren, The king of all birds, Saint Stephen’s his day Was caught in the furze.

 

A BLACKSMITH: (MURMURS) For the honour of God! And is that Bloom? He scarcely looks thirtyone.

A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: That’s the famous Bloom now, the world’s greatest reformer. Hats off!

(ALL UNCOVER THEIR HEADS. WOMEN WHISPER EAGERLY.)

A MILLIONAIRESS: (RICHLY) Isn’t he simply wonderful?

A NOBLEWOMAN: (NOBLY) All that man has seen!

A FEMINIST: (MASCULINELY) And done!

A BELLHANGER: A classic face! He has the forehead of a thinker.

(BLOOM’S WEATHER. A SUNBURST APPEARS IN THE NORTHWEST.)

THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: I here present your undoubted emperor-president and king-chairman, the most serene and potent and very puissant ruler of this realm. God save Leopold the First!

ALL: God save Leopold the First!

BLOOM: (IN DALMATIC AND PURPLE MANTLE, TO THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR, WITH DIGNITY) Thanks, somewhat eminent sir.

WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (IN PURPLE STOCK AND SHOVEL HAT) Will you to your power cause law and mercy to be executed in all your judgments in Ireland and territories thereunto belonging?

BLOOM: (PLACING HIS RIGHT HAND ON HIS TESTICLES, SWEARS) So may the Creator deal with me. All this I promise to do.

MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (POURS A CRUSE OF HAIROIL OVER BLOOM’S HEAD) GAUDIUM MAGNUM ANNUNTIO VOBIS. HABEMUS CARNEFICEM. Leopold, Patrick, Andrew, David, George, be thou anointed!

(BLOOM ASSUMES A MANTLE OF CLOTH OF GOLD AND PUTS ON A RUBY RING. HE ASCENDS AND STANDS ON THE STONE OF DESTINY. THE REPRESENTATIVE PEERS PUT ON AT THE SAME TIME THEIR TWENTYEIGHT CROWNS. JOYBELLS RING IN CHRIST CHURCH, SAINT PATRICK’S, GEORGE’S AND GAY MALAHIDE. MIRUS BAZAAR FIREWORKS GO UP FROM ALL SIDES WITH SYMBOLICAL PHALLOPYROTECHNIC DESIGNS. THE PEERS DO HOMAGE, ONE BY ONE, APPROACHING AND GENUFLECTING.)

THE PEERS: I do become your liege man of life and limb to earthly worship.

(BLOOM HOLDS UP HIS RIGHT HAND ON WHICH SPARKLES THE KOH-I-NOOR DIAMOND. HIS PALFREY NEIGHS. IMMEDIATE SILENCE. WIRELESS INTERCONTINENTAL AND INTERPLANETARY TRANSMITTERS ARE SET FOR RECEPTION