0 Ulysses
here till I tell you. Maidenhead inside. Sst!
STEPHEN: (Altius aliquantulum) Et omnes ad quos per-
venit aqua ista.
THE BAWD: (Spits in their trail her jet of venom) Trinity
medicals. Fallopian tube. All prick and no pence.
(Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with bertha supple,
draws her shawl across her nostrils.)
EDY BOARDMAN: (Bickering) And says the one: I seen
you up Faithful place with your squarepusher, the greaser
off the railway, in his cometobed hat. Did you, says I. That’s
not for you to say, says I. You never seen me in the man-
trap with a married highlander, says I. The likes of her!
Stag that one is! Stubborn as a mule! And her walking with
two fellows the one time, Kilbride, the enginedriver, and
lancecorporal Oliphant.
STEPHEN: (Ttriumphaliter) Salvi facti sunt.
(He flourishes his ashplant, shivering the lamp image,
shattering light over the world. A liver and white spaniel on
the prowl slinks after him, growling. Lynch scares it with a
kick.)
LYNCH: So that?
STEPHEN: (Looks behind) So that gesture, not music not
odour, would be a universal language, the gift of tongues
rendering visible not the lay sense but the first entelechy, the
structural rhythm.
LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology. Metaphysics in
Mecklenburgh street!
STEPHEN: We have shrewridden Shakespeare and hen-
pecked Socrates. Even the allwisest Stagyrite was bitted,