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farther side of Talbot street) I’ll miss him. Run. Quick. Bet-
ter cross here.
(He darts to cross the road. Urchins shout.)
THE URCHINS: Mind out, mister! (Two cyclists, with
lighted paper lanterns aswing, swim by him, grazing him,
their bells rattling)
THE BELLS: Haltyaltyaltyall.
BLOOM: (Halts erect, stung by a spasm) Ow!
(He looks round, darts forward suddenly. Through rising
fog a dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heav-
ily down upon him, its huge red headlight winking, its trolley
hissing on the wire. The motorman bangs his footgong.)
THE GONG: Bang Bang Bla Bak Blud Bugg Bloo.
(The brake cracks violently. Bloom, raising a policeman’s
whitegloved hand, blunders stifflegged out of the track. The
motorman, thrown forward, pugnosed, on the guidewheel,
yells as he slides past over chains and keys.)
THE MOTORMAN: Hey, shitbreeches, are you doing
the hat trick?
BLOOM: (Bloom trickleaps to the curbstone and halts
again. He brushes a mudflake from his cheek with a par-
celled hand.) No thoroughfare. Close shave that but cured
the stitch. Must take up Sandow’s exercises again. On the
hands down. Insure against street accident too. The Provi-
dential. (He feels his trouser pocket) Poor mamma’s panacea.
Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a cog. Day the wheel
of the black Maria peeled off my shoe at Leonard’s corner.
Third time is the charm. Shoe trick. Insolent driver. I ought
to report him. Tension makes them nervous. Might be the