Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com
wreaths.)
THE WREATHS: Sweet are the sweets. Sweets of sin.
BLOOM: My spine’s a bit limp. Go or turn? And this
food? Eat it and get all pigsticky. Absurd I am. Waste of
money. One and eightpence too much. (The retriever drives
a cold snivelling muzzle against his hand, wagging his tail.)
Strange how they take to me. Even that brute today. Bet-
ter speak to him first. Like women they like rencontres.
Stinks like a polecat. Chacun son gout. He might be mad.
Dogdays. Uncertain in his movements. Good fellow! Fido!
Good fellow! Garryowen! (The wolfdog sprawls on his back,
wriggling obscenely with begging paws, his long black tongue
lolling out.) Influence of his surroundings. Give and have
done with it. Provided nobody. (Calling encouraging words
he shambles back with a furtive poacher’s tread, dogged by
the setter into a dark stalestunk corner. He unrolls one parcel
and goes to dump the crubeen softly but holds back and feels
the trotter.) Sizeable for threepence. But then I have it in my
left hand. Calls for more effort. Why? Smaller from want of
use. O, let it slide. Two and six.
(With regret he lets the unrolled crubeen and trotter slide.
The mastiff mauls the bundle clumsily and gluts himself with
growling greed, crunching the bones. Two raincaped watch
approach, silent, vigilant. They murmur together.)
THE WATCH: Bloom. Of Bloom. For Bloom. Bloom.
(Each lays hand on Bloom’s shoulder.)
FIRST WATCH: Caught in the act. Commit no nui-
sance.
BLOOM: (Stammers) I am doing good to others.