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mine gagged and badgered in this fashion by a pack of curs 

and laughing hyenas. The Mosaic code has superseded the 

law of the jungle. I say it and I say it emphatically, without 

wishing for one moment to defeat the ends of justice, 

accused was not accessory before the act and prosecutrix 

has not been tampered with. The young person was 

treated by defendant as if she were his very own daughter. 

(Bloom takes J. J. O’Molloy’s hand and raises it to his lips.) I 

shall call rebutting evidence to prove up to the hilt that 

the hidden hand is again at its old game. When in doubt 

persecute Bloom. My client, an innately bashful man, 

would be the last man in the world to do anything 

ungentlemanly which injured modesty could object to or 

cast a stone at a girl who took the wrong turning when 

some dastard, responsible for her condition, had worked 

his own sweet will on her. He wants to go straight. I 

regard him as the whitest man I know. He is down on his 

luck at present owing to the mortgaging of his extensive 

property at Agendath Netaim in faraway Asia Minor, slides 

of which will now be shown. (To Bloom) I suggest that 

you will do the handsome thing. 

BLOOM: A penny in the pound. 

(The image of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle 

cropping in silver haze is projected on the wall. Moses Dlugacz, 

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ferreteyed albino, in blue dungarees, stands up in the gallery, 

holding in each hand an orange citron and a pork kidney.) 

DLUGACZ: (Hoarsely) Bleibtreustrasse, Berlin, W.13. 

(J. J. O’Molloy steps on to a low plinth and holds the lapel of 

his coat with solemnity. His face lengthens, grows pale and 

bearded, with sunken eyes, the blotches of phthisis and hectic 

cheekbones of John F. Taylor. He applies his handkerchief to his 

mouth and scrutinises the galloping tide of rosepink blood.) 

J.J.O’MOLLOY:  (Almost voicelessly) Excuse me. I am 

suffering from a severe chill, have recently come from a 

sickbed. A few wellchosen words. (He assumes the avine 

head, foxy moustache and proboscidal eloquence of Seymour 

Bushe.) When the angel’s book comes to be opened if 

aught that the pensive bosom has inaugurated of 

soultransfigured and of soultransfiguring deserves to live I 

say accord the prisoner at the bar the sacred benefit of the 

doubt.  (A paper with something written on it is handed into 

court.) 

BLOOM:  (In court dress) Can give best references. 

Messrs Callan, Coleman. Mr Wisdom Hely J. P. My old 

chief Joe Cuffe. Mr V. B. Dillon, ex lord mayor of 

Dublin. I have moved in the charmed circle of the highest 

... Queens of Dublin society. (Carelessly) I was just chatting 

this afternoon at the viceregal lodge to my old pals, sir 

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Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal at the levee. Sir 

Bob, I said ... 

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (In lowcorsaged opal 

balldress and elbowlength ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed 

brickquilted dolman, a comb of brilliants and panache of osprey in 

her hair) Arrest him, constable. He wrote me an 

anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband 

was in the North Riding of Tipperary on the Munster 

circuit, signed James Lovebirch. He said that he had seen 

from the gods my peerless globes as I sat in a box of the 

Theatre Royal at a command performance of La Cigale. I 

deeply inflamed him, he said. He made improper 

overtures to me to misconduct myself at half past four 

p.m. on the following Thursday, Dunsink time. He 

offered to send me through the post a work of fiction by 

Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled The Girl with the Three 

Pairs of Stays. 

MRS BELLINGHAM: (In cap and seal coney mantle, 

wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans 

through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside 

her huge opossum muff) Also to me. Yes, I believe it is the 

same objectionable person. Because he closed my carriage 

door outside sir Thornley Stoker’s one sleety day during 

the cold snap of February ninetythree when even the grid 

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of the wastepipe and the ballstop in my bath cistern were 

frozen. Subsequently he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss 

culled on the heights, as he said, in my honour. I had it 

examined by a botanical expert and elicited the 

information that it was ablossom of the homegrown potato 

plant purloined from a forcingcase of the model farm. 

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Shame on him! 

(A crowd of sluts and ragamuffins surges forward) 

THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: (Screaming) 

Stop thief! Hurrah there, Bluebeard! Three cheers for Ikey 

Mo! 

SECOND WATCH: (Produces handcuffs) Here are the 

darbies. 

MRS BELLINGHAM: He addressed me in several 

handwritings with fulsome compliments as a Venus in furs 

and alleged profound pity for my frostbound coachman 

Palmer while in the same breath he expressed himself as 

envious of his earflaps and fleecy sheepskins and of his 

fortunate proximity to my person, when standing behind 

my chair wearing my livery and the armorial bearings of 

the Bellingham escutcheon garnished sable, a buck’s head 

couped or. He lauded almost extravagantly my nether 

extremities, my swelling calves in silk hose drawn up to 

the limit, and eulogised glowingly my other hidden 

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