Ulysses
... We ... Still ...
BELLO: (Ruthlessly) No, Leopold Bloom, all is changed
by woman’s will since you slept horizontal in Sleepy Hollow
your night of twenty years. Return and see.
(Old Sleepy Hollow calls over the wold.)
SLEEPY HOLLOW: Rip van Wink! Rip van Winkle!
BLOOM: (In tattered mocassins with a rusty fowling-
piece, tiptoeing, fingertipping, his haggard bony bearded face
peering through the diamond panes, cries out) I see her! It’s
she! The first night at Mat Dillon’s! But that dress, the green!
And her hair is dyed gold and he ...
BELLO: (Laughs mockingly) That’s your daughter, you
owl, with a Mullingar student.
(Milly Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, her
blue scarf in the seawind simply swirling, breaks from the
arms of her lover and calls, her young eyes wonderwide.)
MILLY: My! It’s Papli! But, O Papli, how old you’ve
grown!
BELLO: Changed, eh? Our whatnot, our writingtable
where we never wrote, aunt Hegarty’s armchair, our classic
reprints of old masters. A man and his menfriends are liv-
ing there in clover. The Cuckoos’ Rest! Why not? How many
women had you, eh, following them up dark streets, flat-
foot, exciting them by your smothered grunts, what, you
male prostitute? Blameless dames with parcels of groceries.
Turn about. Sauce for the goose, my gander O.
BLOOM: They ... I ...
BELLO: (Cuttingly) Their heelmarks will stamp the
Brusselette carpet you bought at Wren’s auction. In their