Ulysses
Byby, Poldy! Byby, Papli!
BLOOM: (Clasps his head) My willpower! Memory! I
have sinned! I have suff ...
(He weeps tearlessly)
BELLO: (Sneers) Crybabby! Crocodile tears!
(Bloom, broken, closely veiled for the sacrifice, sobs, his
face to the earth. The passing bell is heard. Darkshawled
figures of the circumcised, in sackcloth and ashes, stand by
the wailing wall. M. Shulomowitz, Joseph Goldwater, Mo-
ses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. Moisel, J. Citron, Minnie
Watchman, P. Mastiansky, The Reverend Leopold Abramo-
vitz, Chazen. With swaying arms they wail in pneuma over
the recreant Bloom.)
THE CIRCUMCISED: (In dark guttural chant as they
cast dead sea fruit upon him, no flowers) Shema Israel Ado-
nai Elohenu Adonai Echad.
VOICES: (Sighing) So he’s gone. Ah yes. Yes, indeed.
Bloom? Never heard of him. No? Queer kind of chap. There’s
the widow. That so? Ah, yes.
(From the suttee pyre the flame of gum camphire as-
cends. The pall of incense smoke screens and disperses. Out
of her oakframe a nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in
teabrown artcolours, descends from her grotto and passing
under interlacing yews stands over Bloom.)
THE YEWS: (Their leaves whispering) Sister. Our sister.
Ssh!
THE NYMPH: (Softly) Mortal! (Kindly) Nay, dost not
weepest!
BLOOM: (Crawls jellily forward under the boughs,