0 Ulysses
Sell the monkey, boys! Sell the monkey!
I’ ll give ten to one!
Ten to one bar one!(A dark horse, riderless, bolts like a phantom past the win-
ningpost, his mane moonfoaming, his eyeballs stars. The field
follows, a bunch of bucking mounts. Skeleton horses, Sceptre,
Maximum the Second, Zinfandel, the Duke of Westminster’s
Shotover, Repulse, the Duke of Beaufort’s Ceylon, prix de
Paris. Dwarfs ride them, rustyarmoured, leaping, leaping in
their, in their saddles. Last in a drizzle of rain on a broken-
winded isabelle nag, Cock of the North, the favourite, honey
cap, green jacket, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, gripping
the reins, a hockeystick at the ready. His nag on spavined
whitegaitered feet jogs along the rocky road.)
THE ORANGE LODGES: (Jeering) Get down and push,
mister. Last lap! You’ll be home the night!
GARRETT DEASY: (Bolt upright, his nailscraped face
plastered with postagestamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his
blue eyes flashing in the prism of the chandelier as his mount
lopes by at schooling gallop)
Per vias rectas!
(A yoke of buckets leopards all over him and his rearing
nag a torrent of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots,
barley, onions, turnips, potatoes.)
THE GREEN LODGES: Soft day, sir John! Soft day, your
honour!
(Private Carr, Private Compton and Cissy Caffrey pass
beneath the windows, singing in discord.)