Ulysses
Netaim and from Mizraim, the land of Ham.
(All the people cast soft pantomime stones at Bloom. Many
bonafide travellers and ownerless dogs come near him and
defile him. Mastiansky and Citron approach in gaberdines,
wearing long earlocks. They wag their beards at Bloom.)
MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: Belial! Laemlein of Is-
tria, the false Messiah! Abulafia! Recant!
(George R Mesias, Bloom’s tailor, appears, a tailor’s goose
under his arm, presenting a bill)
MESIAS: To alteration one pair trousers eleven shil-
lings.
BLOOM: (Rubs his hands cheerfully) Just like old times.
Poor Bloom!
(Reuben J Dodd, blackbearded iscariot, bad shepherd,
bearing on his shoulders the drowned corpse of his son, ap-
proaches the pillory.)
REUBEN J: (Whispers hoarsely) The squeak is out. A split
is gone for the flatties. Nip the first rattler.
THE FIRE BRIGADE: Pflaap!
BROTHER BUZZ: (Invests Bloom in a yellow habit with
embroidery of painted flames and high pointed hat. He plac-
es a bag of gunpowder round his neck and hands him over to
the civil power, saying) Forgive him his trespasses.
(Lieutenant Myers of the Dublin Fire Brigade by general
request sets fire to Bloom. Lamentations.)
THE CITIZEN: Thank heaven!
BLOOM: (In a seamless garment marked I. H. S. stands
upright amid phoenix flames) Weep not for me, O daughters
of Erin.