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of the tooraloom lane. Corny Kelleher again reassuralooms
with his hand. Bloom with his hand assuralooms Corny
Kelleher that he is reassuraloomtay. The tinkling hoofs and
jingling harness grow fainter with their tooralooloo looloo
lay. Bloom, holding in his hand Stephen’s hat, festooned with
shavings, and ashplant, stands irresolute. Then he bends to
him and shakes him by the shoulder.)
BLOOM: Eh! Ho! (There is no answer; he bends again)
Mr Dedalus! (There is no answer) The name if you call.
Somnambulist. (He bends again and hesitating, brings his
mouth near the face of the prostrate form) Stephen! (There is
no answer. He calls again.) Stephen!
STEPHEN: (Groans) Who? Black panther. Vampire. (He
sighs and stretches himself, then murmurs thickly with pro-
longed vowels)
Who ... drive ... Fergus now
And pierce ... wood’s woven shade? ...(He turns on his left side, sighing, doubling himself togeth-
er.)
BLOOM: Poetry. Well educated. Pity. (He bends again
and undoes the buttons of Stephen’s waistcoat) To breathe.
(He brushes the woodshavings from Stephen’s clothes with
light hand and fingers) One pound seven. Not hurt anyhow.
(He listens) What?
STEPHEN: (Murmurs)
... shadows ... the woods