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Ulysses 

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walks upright upon this oblate orange? (He points his finger) 

I’m not afraid of what I can talk to if I see his eye. 

Retaining the perpendicular. 

(He staggers a pace back) 

BLOOM: (Propping him) Retain your own. 

STEPHEN:  (Laughs emptily) My centre of gravity is 

displaced. I have forgotten the trick. Let us sit down 

somewhere and discuss. Struggle for life is the law of 

existence but but human philirenists, notably the tsar and 

the king of England, have invented arbitration. (He taps his 

brow) But in here it is I must kill the priest and the king. 

BIDDY THE CLAP: Did you hear what the professor 

said? He’s a professor out of the college. 

CUNTY KATE: I did. I heard that. 

BIDDY THE CLAP: He expresses himself with such 

marked refinement of phraseology. 

CUNTY KATE: Indeed, yes. And at the same time 

with such apposite trenchancy. 

PRIVATE CARR: (Pulls himself free and comes forward) 

What’s that you’re saying about my king? 

(Edward the Seventh appears in an archway. He wars a white 

jersey on which an image of the Sacred Heart is stitched with the 

insignia of Garter and Thistle, Golden Fleece, Elephant of 

Denmark, Skinner’s and Probyn’s horse, Lincoln’s Inn bencher 

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and ancient and honourable artillery company of Massachusetts. 

He sucks a red jujube. He is robed as a grand elect perfect and 

sublime mason with trowel and apron, marked made in 

Germany. In his left hand he holds a plasterer’s bucket on which 

is printed Défense d’uriner. A roar of welcome greets him.) 

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Slowly, solemnly but 

indistinctly) Peace, perfect peace. For identification, bucket 

in my hand. Cheerio, boys. (He turns to his subjects) We 

have come here to witness a clean straight fight and we 

heartily wish both men the best of good luck. Mahak 

makar a bak. 

(He shakes hands with Private Carr, Private Compton, 

Stephen, Bloom and Lynch. General applause. Edward the 

Seventh lifts his bucket graciously in acknowledgment.) 

PRIVATE CARR: (To Stephen) Say it again. 

STEPHEN:  (Nervous, friendly, pulls himself up) I 

understand your point of view though I have no king 

myself for the moment. This is the age of patent 

medicines. A discussion is difficult down here. But this is 

the point. You die for your country. Suppose. (He places 

his arm on Private Carr’s sleeve) Not that I wish it for you. 

But I say: Let my country die for me. Up to the present it 

has done so. I didn’t want it to die. Damn death. Long 

live life! 

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EDWARD THE SEVENTH: (Levitates over heaps of 

slain, in the garb and with the halo of Joking Jesus, a white 

jujube in his phosphorescent face) 

My methods are new and are causing 

surprise. 

To make the blind see I throw dust in their 

eyes.  

STEPHEN: Kings and unicorns! (He fills back a pace) 

Come somewhere and we’ll ... What was that girl saying? 

... 

PRIVATE COMPTON: Eh, Harry, give him a kick 

in the knackers. Stick one into Jerry. 

BLOOM: (To the privates, softly) He doesn’t know what 

he’s saying. Taken a little more than is good for him. 

Absinthe. Greeneyed monster. I know him. He’s a 

gentleman, a poet. It’s all right. 

STEPHEN:  (Nods, smiling and laughing) Gentleman, 

patriot, scholar and judge of impostors. 

PRIVATE CARR: I don’t give a bugger who he is. 

PRIVATE COMPTON: We don’t give a bugger who 

he is. 

STEPHEN: I seem to annoy them. Green rag to a bull. 

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(Kevin Egan of Paris in black Spanish tasselled shirt and 

peep-o’-day boy’s hat signs to Stephen.) 

KEVIN EGAN: H’lo! Bonjour! The vieille ogresse with 

the dents jaunes. 

(Patrice Egan peeps from behind, his rabbitface nibbling a 

quince leaf.) 

PATRICE: Socialiste! 

DON EMILE PATRIZ1O FRANZ RUPERT POPE 

HENNESSY:  (In medieval hauberk, two wild geese volant on 

his helm, with noble indignation points a mailed hand against the 

privates) Werf those eykes to footboden, big grand porcos 

of johnyellows todos covered of gravy! 

BLOOM:  (To Stephen) Come home. You’ll get into 

trouble. 

STEPHEN: (Swaying) I don’t avoid it. He provokes my 

intelligence. 

BIDDY THE CLAP: One immediately observes that 

he is of patrician lineage. 

THE VIRAGO: Green above the red, says he. Wolfe 

Tone. 

THE BAWD: The red’s as good as the green. And 

better. Up the soldiers! Up King Edward! 

A ROUGH: (Laughs) Ay! Hands up to De Wet. 

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THE CITIZEN: (With a huge emerald muffler and 

shillelagh, calls) 

May the God above 

Send down a dove 

With teeth as sharp as razors 

To slit the throats 

Of the English dogs 

That hanged our Irish leaders.  

THE CROPPY BOY: (The ropenoose round his neck, 

gripes in his issuing bowels with both hands) 

I bear no hate to a living thing, 

But I love my country beyond the king.  

RUMBOLD, DEMON BARBER: (Accompanied by 

two blackmasked assistants, advances with gladstone bag which he 

opens) Ladies and gents, cleaver purchased by Mrs Pearcy 

to slay Mogg. Knife with which Voisin dismembered the 

wife of a compatriot and hid remains in a sheet in the 

cellar, the unfortunate female’s throat being cut from ear 

to ear. Phial containing arsenic retrieved from body of 

Miss Barron which sent Seddon to the gallows. 

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