Ulysses

    Cuckoo. 
    Cuckoo. 
    Cuckoo.

(THE BRASS QUOITS OF A BED ARE HEARD TO JINGLE.)

The quoits:  Jigjag.  Jigajiga.  Jigjag.

(A panel of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing rapidly in the JURYBOX the
faces of Martin Cunningham, foreman, silkhatted, Jack power, Simon
Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Henry Menton Myles Crawford, Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M’COY and the FEATURELESS face of A nameless one.)

The nameless one:  Bareback riding.  Weight for age.  Gob, he organised her.

The JURORS:  (All their heads turned to his voice) Really?

The nameless one:  (SNARLS) Arse over tip.  Hundred shillings to five.

The JURORS:  (All their heads lowered in assent) Most of us thought as much.

First watch:  He is a marked man.  Another girl’s plait cut.  Wanted:  Jack the Ripper.  A thousand pounds reward.

Second watch:  (AWED, whispers) And in black.  A mormon.  Anarchist.

The CRIER:  (LOUDLY) Whereas Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a wellknown dynamitard, forger, bigamist, bawd and cuckold and a public nuisance to the citizens of Dublin and whereas at this commission of assizes the most honourable …

(His honour, sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, in JUDICIAL garb of grey stone rises from the bench, stonebearded. He bears in his arms an umbrella sceptre.  From his forehead arise STARKLY the Mosaic RAMSHORNS.)

The recorder:  I will put an end to this white slave traffic and rid Dublin of this odious pest.  Scandalous! (He DONS the black cap) Let him be taken, Mr Subsheriff, from the dock where he now stands and detained in custody in Mountjoy prison during His Majesty’s pleasure and there be hanged by the neck until he is dead and therein fail not at your peril or may the Lord have mercy on your soul.  Remove him. (A black SKULLCAP descends upon his head.)

(The subsheriff long John fanning appears, smoking A pungent Henry clay.)

Long John fanning:  (SCOWLS and calls with rich rolling utterance) Who’ll hang Judas Iscariot?

(H.  Rumbold, master barber, in A BLOODCOLOURED JERKIN and TANNER’S apron, A rope coiled over his shoulder, MOUNTS the block.  A life PRESERVER and A NAILSTUDDED BLUDGEON are stuck in his belt.  He rubs grimly his GRAPPLING hands, KNOBBED with knuckledusters.)

Rumbold:  (To the recorder with sinister FAMILIARITY) Hanging Harry, your Majesty, the Mersey terror.  Five guineas a jugular.  Neck or nothing.

(The bells of George’s church toll slowly, loud dark iron.)

The bells:  Heigho!  Heigho!

Bloom:  (DESPERATELY) Wait.  Stop.  Gulls.  Good heart.  I saw.  Innocence.  Girl in the monkeyhouse.  Zoo.  Lewd chimpanzee. (BREATHLESSLY) Pelvic basin.  Her artless blush unmanned me. (OVERCOME with emotion) I left the precincts. (He turns to A figure in the crowd, appealing) Hynes, may I speak to you?  You know me.  That three shillings you can keep.  If you want a little more …

Hynes:  (COLDLY) You are a perfect stranger.

Second watch:  (POINTS to the corner) The bomb is here.

First watch:  Infernal machine with a time fuse.

Bloom:  No, no.  Pig’s feet.  I was at a funeral.

First watch:  (DRAWS his TRUNCHEON) Liar!

(The BEAGLE lifts his snout, showing the grey scorbutic face of Paddy
Dignam.  He has gnawed all.  He EXHALES A PUTRID CARCASEFED breath.  He
grows to human size and shape.  His DACHSHUND coat becomes A brown
mortuary habit.  His green eye flashes bloodshot.  Half of one ear, all the
nose and both thumbs are GHOULEATEN.)

Paddy Dignam:  (In A hollow voice) It is true.  It was my funeral.  Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease from natural causes.

(He lifts his mutilated ASHEN face MOONWARDS and bays LUGUBRIOUSLY.)

Bloom:  (In triumph) You hear?

Paddy Dignam:  Bloom, I am Paddy Dignam’s spirit.  List, list, O list!

Bloom:  The voice is the voice of Esau.

Second watch:  (BLESSES himself) How is that possible?

First watch:  It is not in the penny catechism.

Paddy Dignam:  By metempsychosis.  Spooks.

A voice:  O rocks.

Paddy Dignam:  (EARNESTLY) Once I was in the employ of Mr J. H. Menton, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits, of 27 Bachelor’s Walk.  Now I am defunct, the wall of the heart hypertrophied.  Hard lines.  The poor wife was awfully cut up.  How is she bearing it?  Keep her off that bottle of sherry. (He looks round him) A lamp.  I must satisfy an animal need.  That buttermilk didn’t agree with me.

(The portly figure of John O’CONNELL, caretaker, 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 of message.)

Bloom:  My subjects!  We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we have this day repudiated our former spouse and have bestowed our royal hand upon the princess Selene, the splendour of night.

(The former MORGANATIC spouse of bloom is hastily removed in the black Maria.  The princess Selene, in MOONBLUE robes, A silver crescent on her head, descends from A SEDAN chair, borne by two giants.  An outburst of CHEERING.)

John Howard Parnell:  (RAISES the royal standard) Illustrious Bloom!  Successor to my famous brother!

Bloom:  (EMBRACES John Howard Parnell) We thank you from our heart, John, for this right royal welcome to green Erin, the promised land of our common ancestors.

(The FREEDOM of the city is presented to him EMBODIED in A CHARTER.  The keys of Dublin, crossed on A crimson CUSHION, are given to him.  He shows all that he is wearing green socks.)

Tom Kernan:  You deserve it, your honour.

Bloom:  On this day twenty years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith.  Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his lines with telling effect.  Half a league onward!  They charge!  All is lost now!  Do we yield?  No!  We drive them headlong!  Lo!  We charge!  Deploying to the left our light horse swept across the heights of Plevna and, uttering their warcry BONAFIDE SABAOTH, sabred the Saracen gunners to a man.

The chapel of Freeman typesetters:  Hear!  Hear!

John Wyse Nolan:  There’s the man that got away James Stephens.

A bluecoat schoolboy:  Bravo!

An old resident:  You’re a credit to your country, sir, that’s what you are.

An applewoman:  He’s a man like Ireland wants.

Bloom:  My beloved subjects, a new era is about to dawn.  I, Bloom, tell you verily it is even now at hand.  Yea, on the word of a Bloom, ye shall ere long enter into the golden city which is to be, the new Bloomusalem in the Nova Hibernia of the future.

(Thirtytwo WORKMEN, wearing ROSETTES, from all the COUNTIES of Ireland,
under the guidance of DERWAN the builder, CONSTRUCT the new Bloomusalem. 
It is A colossal edifice with crystal roof, built in the shape of A huge
pork kidney, containing forty thousand rooms. In the course of its
extension several Buildings and monuments are demolished. GOVERNMENT
offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds.  Numerous houses are
RAZED to the ground.  The inhabitants are lodged in barrels and boxes, all
marked in red with the letters:  L. B. SEVERAL PAUPERS fill from A ladder. 
A part of the walls of Dublin, crowded with loyal SIGHTSEERS, collapses.)