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bloodhounds, led by Hornblower of Trinity brandishing a 

dogwhip in tallyho cap and an old pair of grey trousers, follow 

from fir, picking up the scent, nearer, baying, panting, at fault, 

breaking away, throwing their tongues, biting his heels, leaping at 

his tail. He walks, runs, zigzags, gallops, lugs laid back. He is 

pelted with gravel, cabbagestumps, biscuitboxes, eggs, potatoes, 

dead codfish, woman’s slipperslappers. After him freshfound the 

hue and cry zigzag gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 

C, 66 C, night watch, John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V. 

B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, Alexander Keyes, Larry 

O’rourke, Joe Cuffe Mrs O’dowd, Pisser Burke, The Nameless 

One, Mrs Riordan, The Citizen, Garryowen, 

Whodoyoucallhim, Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, 

Chapwithawen, Chris Callinan, Sir Charles Cameron, 

Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bartell d’Arcy, Joe Hynes, red 

Murray, editor Brayden, T. M. Healy, Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, 

John Howard Parnell, the reverend Tinned Salmon, Professor 

Joly, Mrs Breen, Denis Breen, Theodore Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, 

the Westland Row postmistress, C. P. M’Coy, friend of Lyons, 

Hoppy Holohan, maninthestreet, othermaninthestreet, 

Footballboots, pugnosed driver, rich protestant lady, Davy Byrne, 

Mrs Ellen M’Guinness, Mrs Joe Gallaher, George Lidwell, 

Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, Father Cowley, 

Crofton out of the Collector-general’s, Dan Dawson, dental 

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surgeon Bloom with tweezers, Mrs Bob Doran, Mrs Kennefick, 

Mrs Wyse Nolan, John Wyse Nolan, 

handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwidebehindinClonskeatram

, the bookseller of Sweets of Sin, Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad, 

Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck, the 

managing clerk of Drimmie’s, Wetherup, colonel Hayes, 

Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron Figatner, Moses Herzog, 

Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs Galbraith, the 

constable off Eccles Street corner, old doctor Brady with 

stethoscope, the mystery man on the beach, a retriever, Mrs 

Miriam Dandrade and all her lovers.) 

THE HUE AND CRY: (Helterskelterpelterwelter) He’s 

Bloom! Stop Bloom! Stopabloom! Stopperrobber! Hi! Hi! 

Stophim on the corner! 

(At the corner of Beaver Street beneath the scaffolding Bloom 

panting stops on the fringe of the noisy quarrelling knot, a lot not 

knowing a jot what hi! hi! row and wrangle round the whowhat 

brawlaltogether.) 

STEPHEN:  (With elaborate gestures, breathing deeply and 

slowly) You are my guests. Uninvited. By virtue of the 

fifth of George and seventh of Edward. History to blame. 

Fabled by mothers of memory. 

PRIVATE CARR: (To Cissy Caffrey) Was he insulting 

you? 

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STEPHEN: Addressed her in vocative feminine. 

Probably neuter. Ungenitive. 

VOICES: No, he didn’t. I seen him. The girl there. He 

was in Mrs Cohen’s. What’s up? Soldier and civilian. 

CISSY CAFFREY: I was in company with the soldiers 

and they left me to do—you know, and the young man 

run up behind me. But I’m faithful to the man that’s 

treating me though I’m only a shilling whore. 

STEPHEN:  (Catches sight of Lynch’s and Kitty’s heads) 

Hail, Sisyphus. (He points to himself and the others) Poetic. 

Uropoetic. 

VOICES: Shes faithfultheman. 

CISSY CAFFREY: Yes, to go with him. And me with 

a soldier friend. 

PRIVATE COMPTON: He doesn’t half want a thick 

ear, the blighter. Biff him one, Harry. 

PRIVATE CARR: (To Cissy) Was he insulting you 

while me and him was having a piss? 

LORD TENNYSON: (Gentleman poet in Union Jack 

blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, flowingbearded) Theirs 

not to reason why. 

PRIVATE COMPTON: Biff him, Harry. 

STEPHEN:  (To Private Compton) I don’t know your 

name but you are quite right. Doctor Swift says one man 

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in armour will beat ten men in their shirts. Shirt is 

synechdoche. Part for the whole. 

CISSY CAFFREY: (To The Crowd) No, I was with the 

privates. 

STEPHEN: (Amiably) Why not? The bold soldier boy. 

In my opinion every lady for example ... 

PRIVATE CARR: (His cap awry, advances to Stephen) 

Say, how would it be, governor, if I was to bash in your 

jaw? 

STEPHEN:  (Looks up to the sky) How? Very 

unpleasant. Noble art of selfpretence. Personally, I detest 

action. (He waves his hand) Hand hurts me slightly. Enfin ce 

sont vos oignons. (To Cissy Caffrey) Some trouble is on here. 

What is it precisely? 

DOLLY GRAY: (From her balcony waves her 

handkerchief, giving the sign of the heroine of Jericho) Rahab. 

Cook’s son, goodbye. Safe home to Dolly. Dream of the 

girl you left behind and she will dream of you. 

(The soldiers turn their swimming eyes.) 

BLOOM:  (Elbowing through the crowd, plucks Stephen’s 

sleeve vigorously) Come now, professor, that carman is 

waiting. 

STEPHEN:  (Turns) Eh? (He disengages himself) Why 

should I not speak to him or to any human being who 

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