Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home,
Cakes in his pocket for Leo alone.
_(Bloom, bending down, pokes Baby Boardman gently in the stomach.)_
BABY BOARDMAN: _(Hiccups, curdled milk flowing from his mouth.)_
Hajajaja.
BLOOM: _(Shaking hands with a blind stripling.)_ My more than Brother!
_(Placing his arms round the shoulders of an old couple.)_ Dear old
friends! _(He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls.)_
Peep! Bopeep! _(He wheels twins in a perambulator.)_ Ticktacktwo
wouldyousetashoe? _(He performs juggler’s tricks, draws red, orange,
yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his
mouth.)_ Roygbiv. 32 feet per second. _(He consoles a widow.)_ Absence
makes the heart grow younger. _(He dances the Highland fling with
grotesque antics.)_ Leg it, ye devils! _(He kisses the bedsores of a
palsied veteran.)_ Honourable wounds! _(He trips up a fat policeman.)_
U. p: up. U. p: up. _(He whispers in the ear of a blushing waitress and
laughs kindly.)_ Ah, naughty, naughty! _(He eats a raw turnip offered
him by Maurice Butterly, farmer.)_ Fine! Splendid! _(He refuses to
accept three shillings offered him by Joseph Hynes, journalist.)_ My
dear fellow, not at all! _(He gives his coat to a beggar.)_ Please
accept. _(He takes part in a stomach race with elderly male and female
cripples.)_ Come on, boys! Wriggle it, girls!
THE CITIZEN: _(Choked with emotion, brushes aside a tear in his emerald
muffler.)_ May the good God bless him!
_(The rams’ horns sound for silence. The standard of Zion is hoisted.)_
BLOOM: _(Uncloaks impressively, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper and
reads solemnly.)_ Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom
Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim
Meshuggah Talith.
_(An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry, assistant town
clerk.)_
JIMMY HENRY: The Court of Conscience is now open. His Most Catholic
Majesty will now administer open air justice. Free medical and legal
advice, solution of doubles and other problems. All cordially invited.
Given at this our loyal city of Dublin in the year 1 of the
Paradisiacal Era.
PADDY LEONARD: What am I to do about my rates and taxes?
BLOOM: Pay them, my friend.
PADDY LEONARD: Thank you.
NOSEY FLYNN: Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance?
BLOOM: _(Obdurately.)_ Sirs, take notice that by the law of torts you
are bound over in your own recognisances for six months in the sum of
five pounds.
J. J. O’MOLLOY: A Daniel did I say? Nay! A Peter O’Brien!
NOSEY FLYNN: Where do I draw the five pounds?
PISSER BURKE: For bladder trouble?