Section 55 of 74 - Table of Contents
BELLA: (CONTEMPTUOUSLY) You're not game, in fact. (HER SOWCUNT BARKS)
Fbhracht!
BLOOM: (CONTEMPTUOUSLY) Clean your nailless middle finger first, your
bully's cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb. Take a handful of hay
and wipe yourself.
BELLA: I know you, canvasser! Dead cod!
BLOOM: I saw him, kipkeeper! Pox and gleet vendor!
BELLA: (TURNS TO THE PIANO) Which of you was playing the dead march from
SAUL?
ZOE: Me. Mind your cornflowers. (SHE DARTS TO THE PIANO AND BANGS CHORDS
ON IT WITH CROSSED ARMS) The cat's ramble through the slag. (SHE GLANCES
BACK) Eh? Who's making love to my sweeties? (SHE DARTS BACK TO THE TABLE)
What's yours is mine and what's mine is my own.
(KITTY, DISCONCERTED, COATS HER TEETH WITH THE SILVER PAPER. BLOOM
APPROACHES ZOE.)
BLOOM: (GENTLY) Give me back that potato, will you?
ZOE: Forfeits, a fine thing and a superfine thing.
BLOOM: (WITH FEELING) It is nothing, but still, a relic of poor mamma.
ZOE:
Give a thing and take it back
God'll ask you where is that
You'll say you don't know
God'll send you down below.
BLOOM: There is a memory attached to it. I should like to have it.
STEPHEN: To have or not to have that is the question.
ZOE: Here. (SHE HAULS UP A REEF OF HER SLIP, REVEALING HER BARE THIGH,
AND UNROLLS THE POTATO FROM THE TOP OF HER STOCKING) Those that hides
knows where to find.
BELLA: (FROWNS) Here. This isn't a musical peepshow. And don't you smash
that piano. Who's paying here?
(SHE GOES TO THE PIANOLA. STEPHEN FUMBLES IN HIS POCKET AND, TAKING OUT A
BANKNOTE BY ITS CORNER, HANDS IT TO HER.)
STEPHEN: (WITH EXAGGERATED POLITENESS) This silken purse I made out of
the sow's ear of the public. Madam, excuse me. If you allow me. (HE
INDICATES VAGUELY LYNCH AND BLOOM) We are all in the same sweepstake,
Kinch and Lynch. DANS CE BORDEL OU TENONS NOSTRE ETAT.
LYNCH: (CALLS FROM THE HEARTH) Dedalus! Give her your blessing for me.
STEPHEN: (HANDS BELLA A COIN) Gold. She has it.
BELLA: (LOOKS AT THE MONEY, THEN AT STEPHEN, THEN AT ZOE, FLORRY AND
KITTY) Do you want three girls? It's ten shillings here.
STEPHEN: (DELIGHTEDLY) A hundred thousand apologies. (HE FUMBLES AGAIN
AND TAKES OUT AND HANDS HER TWO CROWNS) Permit, BREVI MANU, my sight is
somewhat troubled.
(BELLA GOES TO THE TABLE TO COUNT THE MONEY WHILE STEPHEN TALKS TO
HIMSELF IN MONOSYLLABLES. ZOE BENDS OVER THE TABLE. KITTY LEANS OVER
ZOE'S NECK. LYNCH GETS UP, RIGHTS HIS CAP AND, CLASPING KITTY'S WAIST,
ADDS HIS HEAD TO THE GROUP.)
FLORRY: (STRIVES HEAVILY TO RISE) Ow! My foot's asleep. (SHE LIMPS OVER
TO THE TABLE. BLOOM APPROACHES.)
BELLA, ZOE, KITTY, LYNCH, BLOOM: (CHATTERING AND SQUABBLING) The
gentleman ... ten shillings ... paying for the three ... allow me a
moment ... this gentleman pays separate ... who's touching it? ... ow!
... mind who you're pinching ... are you staying the night or a short
time?... who did?... you're a liar, excuse me ... the gentleman paid down
like a gentleman ... drink ... it's long after eleven.
STEPHEN: (AT THE PIANOLA, MAKING A GESTURE OF ABHORRENCE) No bottles!
What, eleven? A riddle!
ZOE: (LIFTING UP HER PETTIGOWN AND FOLDING A HALF SOVEREIGN INTO THE TOP
OF HER STOCKING) Hard earned on the flat of my back.
LYNCH: (LIFTING KITTY FROM THE TABLE) Come!
KITTY: Wait. (SHE CLUTCHES THE TWO CROWNS)
FLORRY: And me?
LYNCH: Hoopla! (HE LIFTS HER, CARRIES HER AND BUMPS HER DOWN ON THE
SOFA.)
STEPHEN:
The fox crew, the cocks flew,
The bells in heaven
Were striking eleven.
'Tis time for her poor soul
To get out of heaven.
BLOOM: (QUIETLY LAYS A HALF SOVEREIGN ON THE TABLE BETWEEN BELLA AND
FLORRY) So. Allow me. (HE TAKES UP THE POUNDNOTE) Three times ten. We're
square.
BELLA: (ADMIRINGLY) You're such a slyboots, old cocky. I could kiss you.
ZOE: (POINTS) Him? Deep as a drawwell. (LYNCH BENDS KITTY BACK OVER THE
SOFA AND KISSES HER. BLOOM GOES WITH THE POUNDNOTE TO STEPHEN.)
BLOOM: This is yours.
STEPHEN: How is that? LES DISTRAIT or absentminded beggar. (HE FUMBLES
AGAIN IN HIS POCKET AND DRAWS OUT A HANDFUL OF COINS. AN OBJECT FILLS.)
That fell.
BLOOM: (STOOPING, PICKS UP AND HANDS A BOX OF MATCHES) This.
STEPHEN: Lucifer. Thanks.
BLOOM: (QUIETLY) You had better hand over that cash to me to take care
of. Why pay more?
STEPHEN: (HANDS HIM ALL HIS COINS) Be just before you are generous.
BLOOM: I will but is it wise? (HE COUNTS) One, seven, eleven, and five.
Six. Eleven. I don't answer for what you may have lost.
STEPHEN: Why striking eleven? Proparoxyton. Moment before the next
Lessing says. Thirsty fox. (HE LAUGHS LOUDLY) Burying his grandmother.
Probably he killed her.
BLOOM: That is one pound six and eleven. One pound seven, say.
STEPHEN: Doesn't matter a rambling damn.
BLOOM: No, but ...
STEPHEN: (COMES TO THE TABLE) Cigarette, please. (LYNCH TOSSES A
CIGARETTE FROM THE SOFA TO THE TABLE) And so Georgina Johnson is dead and
married. (A CIGARETTE APPEARS ON THE TABLE. STEPHEN LOOKS AT IT) Wonder.
Parlour magic. Married. Hm. (HE STRIKES A MATCH AND PROCEEDS TO LIGHT THE
CIGARETTE WITH ENIGMATIC MELANCHOLY)
LYNCH: (WATCHING HIM) You would have a better chance of lighting it if
you held the match nearer.
STEPHEN: (BRINGS THE MATCH NEAR HIS EYE) Lynx eye. Must get glasses.
Broke them yesterday. Sixteen years ago. Distance. The eye sees all flat.
(HE DRAWS THE MATCH AWAY. IT GOES OUT.) Brain thinks. Near: far.
Ineluctable modality of the visible. (HE FROWNS MYSTERIOUSLY) Hm. Sphinx.
The beast that has twobacks at midnight. Married.
ZOE: It was a commercial traveller married her and took her away with
him.
FLORRY: (NODS) Mr Lambe from London.
STEPHEN: Lamb of London, who takest away the sins of our world.
LYNCH: (EMBRACING KITTY ON THE SOFA, CHANTS DEEPLY) DONA NOBIS PACEM.
(THE CIGARETTE SLIPS FROM STEPHEN 'S FINGERS. BLOOM PICKS IT UP AND
THROWS IT IN THE GRATE.)
BLOOM: Don't smoke. You ought to eat. Cursed dog I met. (TO ZOE) You have
nothing?
ZOE: Is he hungry?
STEPHEN: (EXTENDS HIS HAND TO HER SMILING AND CHANTS TO THE AIR OF THE
BLOODOATH IN THE Dusk of the Gods)
Hangende Hunger,
Fragende Frau,
Macht uns alle kaputt.
ZOE: (TRAGICALLY) Hamlet, I am thy father's gimlet! (SHE TAKES HIS HAND)
Blue eyes beauty I'll read your hand. (SHE POINTS TO HIS FOREHEAD) No
wit, no wrinkles. (SHE COUNTS) Two, three, Mars, that's courage. (STEPHEN
SHAKES HIS HEAD) No kid.
LYNCH: Sheet lightning courage. The youth who could not shiver and shake.
(TO ZOE) Who taught you palmistry?
ZOE: (TURNS) Ask my ballocks that I haven't got. (TO STEPHEN) I see it in
your face. The eye, like that. (SHE FROWNS WITH LOWERED HEAD)
LYNCH: (LAUGHING, SLAPS KITTY BEHIND TWICE) Like that. Pandybat.
(TWICE LOUDLY A PANDYBAT CRACKS, THE COFFIN OF THE PIANOLA FLIES OPEN,
THE BALD LITTLE ROUND JACK-IN-THE-BOX HEAD OF FATHER DOLAN SPRINGS UP.)
FATHER DOLAN: Any boy want flogging? Broke his glasses? Lazy idle little
schemer. See it in your eye.
(MILD, BENIGN, RECTORIAL, REPROVING, THE HEAD OF DON JOHN CONMEE RISES
FROM THE PIANOLA COFFIN.)
DON JOHN CONMEE: Now, Father Dolan! Now. I'm sure that Stephen is a very
good little boy!
ZOE: (EXAMINING STEPHEN'S PALM) Woman's hand.
STEPHEN: (MURMURS) Continue. Lie. Hold me. Caress. I never could read His
handwriting except His criminal thumbprint on the haddock.
ZOE: What day were you born?
STEPHEN: Thursday. Today.
ZOE: Thursday's child has far to go. (SHE TRACES LINES ON HIS HAND) Line
of fate. Influential friends.
FLORRY: (POINTING) Imagination.
ZOE: Mount of the moon. You'll meet with a ... (SHE PEERS AT HIS HANDS
ABRUPTLY) I won't tell you what's not good for you. Or do you want to
know?
BLOOM: (DETACHES HER FINGERS AND OFFERS HIS PALM) More harm than good.
Here. Read mine.
BELLA: Show. (SHE TURNS UP BLOOM'S HAND) I thought so. Knobby knuckles
for the women.
ZOE: (PEERING AT BLOOM'S PALM) Gridiron. Travels beyond the sea and marry
money.
BLOOM: Wrong.
ZOE: (QUICKLY) O, I see. Short little finger. Henpecked husband. That
wrong?
(BLACK LIZ, A HUGE ROOSTER HATCHING IN A CHALKED CIRCLE, RISES, STRETCHES
HER WINGS AND CLUCKS.)
BLACK LIZ: Gara. Klook. Klook. Klook.
(SHE SIDLES FROM HER NEWLAID EGG AND WADDLES OFF)
BLOOM: (POINTS TO HIS HAND) That weal there is an accident. Fell and cut
it twentytwo years ago. I was sixteen.
ZOE: I see, says the blind man. Tell us news.
STEPHEN: See? Moves to one great goal. I am twentytwo. Sixteen years ago
he was twentytwo too. Sixteen years ago I twentytwo tumbled. Twentytwo
years ago he sixteen fell off his hobbyhorse. (HE WINCES) Hurt my hand
somewhere. Must see a dentist. Money?
(ZOE WHISPERS TO FLORRY. THEY GIGGLE. BLOOM RELEASES HIS HAND AND WRITES
IDLY ON THE TABLE IN BACKHAND, PENCILLING SLOW CURVES.)
FLORRY: What?
(A HACKNEYCAR, NUMBER THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTYFOUR, WITH A
GALLANTBUTTOCKED MARE, DRIVEN BY JAMES BARTON, HARMONY AVENUE,
DONNYBROOK, TROTS PAST. BLAZES BOYLAN AND LENEHAN SPRAWL SWAYING ON THE
SIDESEATS. THE ORMOND BOOTS CROUCHES BEHIND ON THE AXLE. SADLY OVER THE
CROSSBLIND LYDIA DOUCE AND MINA KENNEDY GAZE.)
THE BOOTS: (JOGGING, MOCKS THEM WITH THUMB AND WRIGGLING WORMFINGERS) Haw
haw have you the horn?
(BRONZE BY GOLD THEY WHISPER.)
ZOE: (TO FLORRY) Whisper.
(THEY WHISPER AGAIN)
(OVER THE WELL OF THE CAR BLAZES BOYLAN LEANS, HIS BOATER STRAW SET
SIDEWAYS, A RED FLOWER IN HIS MOUTH. LENEHAN IN YACHTSMAN'S CAP AND WHITE
SHOES OFFICIOUSLY DETACHES A LONG HAIR FROM BLAZES BOYLAN'S COAT
SHOULDER.)
LENEHAN: Ho! What do I here behold? Were you brushing the cobwebs off a
few quims?
BOYLAN: (SEATED, SMILES) Plucking a turkey.
LENEHAN: A good night's work.
BOYLAN: (HOLDING UP FOUR THICK BLUNTUNGULATED FINGERS, WINKS) Blazes
Kate! Up to sample or your money back. (HE HOLDS OUT A FOREFINGER) Smell
that.
LENEHAN: (SMELLS GLEEFULLY) Ah! Lobster and mayonnaise. Ah!
ZOE AND FLORRY: (LAUGH TOGETHER) Ha ha ha ha.
BOYLAN: (JUMPS SURELY FROM THE CAR AND CALLS LOUDLY FOR ALL TO HEAR)
Hello, Bloom! Mrs Bloom dressed yet?
BLOOM: (IN FLUNKEY'S PRUNE PLUSH COAT AND KNEEBREECHES, BUFF STOCKINGS
AND POWDERED WIG) I'm afraid not, sir. The last articles ...
BOYLAN: (TOSSES HIM SIXPENCE) Here, to buy yourself a gin and splash. (HE
HANGS HIS HAT SMARTLY ON A PEG OF BLOOM'S ANTLERED HEAD) Show me in. I
have a little private business with your wife, you understand?
BLOOM: Thank you, sir. Yes, sir. Madam Tweedy is in her bath, sir.
MARION: He ought to feel himself highly honoured. (SHE PLOPS SPLASHING
OUT OF THE WATER) Raoul darling, come and dry me. I'm in my pelt. Only my
new hat and a carriage sponge.
BOYLAN: (A MERRY TWINKLE IN HIS EYE) Topping!
BELLA: What? What is it?
(ZOE WHISPERS TO HER.)
MARION: Let him look, the pishogue! Pimp! And scourge himself! I'll write
to a powerful prostitute or Bartholomona, the bearded woman, to raise
weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a signed and
stamped receipt.
BOYLAN: (clasps himself) Here, I can't hold this little lot much longer.
(he strides off on stiff cavalry legs)
BELLA: (LAUGHING) Ho ho ho ho.
BOYLAN: (TO BLOOM, OVER HIS SHOULDER) You can apply your eye to the
keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through her a few times.
BLOOM: Thank you, sir. I will, sir. May I bring two men chums to witness
the deed and take a snapshot? (HE HOLDS OUT AN OINTMENT JAR) Vaseline,
sir? Orangeflower ...? Lukewarm water ...?
KITTY: (FROM THE SOFA) Tell us, Florry. Tell us. What.
(FLORRY WHISPERS TO HER. WHISPERING LOVEWORDS MURMUR, LIPLAPPING LOUDLY,
POPPYSMIC PLOPSLOP.)
MINA KENNEDY: (HER EYES UPTURNED) O, it must be like the scent of
geraniums and lovely peaches! O, he simply idolises every bit of her!
Stuck together! Covered with kisses!
LYDIA DOUCE: (HER MOUTH OPENING) Yumyum. O, he's carrying her round the
room doing it! Ride a cockhorse. You could hear them in Paris and New
York. Like mouthfuls of strawberries and cream.
KITTY: (LAUGHING) Hee hee hee.
BOYLAN'S VOICE: (SWEETLY, HOARSELY, IN THE PIT OF HIS STOMACH) Ah!
Gooblazqruk brukarchkrasht!
MARION'S VOICE: (HOARSELY, SWEETLY, RISING TO HER THROAT) O!
Weeshwashtkissinapooisthnapoohuck?
BLOOM: (HIS EYES WILDLY DILATED, CLASPS HIMSELF) Show! Hide! Show! Plough
her! More! Shoot!
BELLA, ZOE, FLORRY, KITTY: Ho ho! Ha ha! Hee hee!
LYNCH: (POINTS) The mirror up to nature. (HE LAUGHS) Hu hu hu hu hu!
(STEPHEN AND BLOOM GAZE IN THE MIRROR. THE FACE OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE,
BEARDLESS, APPEARS THERE, RIGID IN FACIAL PARALYSIS, CROWNED BY THE
REFLECTION OF THE REINDEER ANTLERED HATRACK IN THE HALL.)
SHAKESPEARE: (IN DIGNIFIED VENTRILOQUY) 'Tis the loud laugh bespeaks the
vacant mind. (TO BLOOM) Thou thoughtest as how thou wastest invisible.
Gaze. (HE CROWS WITH A BLACK CAPON'S LAUGH) Iagogo! How my Oldfellow
chokit his Thursdaymornun. Iagogogo!
BLOOM: (SMILES YELLOWLY AT THE THREE WHORES) When will I hear the joke?
ZOE: Before you're twice married and once a widower.
BLOOM: Lapses are condoned. Even the great Napoleon when measurements
were taken next the skin after his death ...
(MRS DIGNAM, WIDOW WOMAN, HER SNUBNOSE AND CHEEKS FLUSHED WITH DEATHTALK,
TEARS AND TUNNEY'S TAWNY SHERRY, HURRIES BY IN HER WEEDS, HER BONNET
AWRY, ROUGING AND POWDERING HER CHEEKS, LIPS AND NOSE, A PEN CHIVVYING
HER BROOD OF CYGNETS. BENEATH HER SKIRT APPEAR HER LATE HUSBAND'S
EVERYDAY TROUSERS AND TURNEDUP BOOTS, LARGE EIGHTS. SHE HOLDS A SCOTTISH
WIDOWS' INSURANCE POLICY AND A LARGE MARQUEE UMBRELLA UNDER WHICH HER
BROOD RUN WITH HER, PATSY HOPPING ON ONE SHOD FOOT, HIS COLLAR LOOSE, A
HANK OF PORKSTEAKS DANGLING, FREDDY WHIMPERING, SUSY WITH A CRYING COD'S
MOUTH, ALICE STRUGGLING WITH THE BABY. SHE CUFFS THEM ON, HER STREAMERS
FLAUNTING ALOFT.)
FREDDY: Ah, ma, you're dragging me along!
SUSY: Mamma, the beeftea is fizzing over!
SHAKESPEARE: (WITH PARALYTIC RAGE) Weda seca whokilla farst.
(THE FACE OF MARTIN CUNNINGHAM, BEARDED, REFEATURES SHAKESPEARE'S
BEARDLESS FACE. THE MARQUEE UMBRELLA SWAYS DRUNKENLY, THE CHILDREN RUN
ASIDE. UNDER THE UMBRELLA APPEARS MRS CUNNINGHAM IN MERRY WIDOW HAT AND
KIMONO GOWN. SHE GLIDES SIDLING AND BOWING, TWIRLING JAPANESILY.)
MRS CUNNINGHAM: (SINGS)
And they call me the jewel of Asia!
MARTIN CUNNINGHAM: (GAZES ON HER, IMPASSIVE) Immense! Most bloody awful
demirep!
STEPHEN: ET EXALTABUNTUR CORNUA IUSTI. Queens lay with prize bulls.
Remember Pasiphae for whose lust my grandoldgrossfather made the first
confessionbox. Forget not Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions of
the house of Lambert. And Noah was drunk with wine. And his ark was open.
BELLA: None of that here. Come to the wrong shop.
LYNCH: Let him alone. He's back from Paris.
ZOE: (RUNS TO STEPHEN AND LINKS HIM) O go on! Give us some parleyvoo.
(STEPHEN CLAPS HAT ON HEAD AND LEAPS OVER TO THE FIREPLACE WHERE HE
STANDS WITH SHRUGGED SHOULDERS, FINNY HANDS OUTSPREAD, A PAINTED SMILE ON
HIS FACE.)
LYNCH: (POMMELLING ON THE SOFA) Rmm Rmm Rmm Rrrrrrmmmm.
STEPHEN: (GABBLES WITH MARIONETTE JERKS) Thousand places of entertainment
to expense your evenings with lovely ladies saling gloves and other
things perhaps hers heart beerchops perfect fashionable house very
eccentric where lots cocottes beautiful dressed much about princesses
like are dancing cancan and walking there parisian clowneries extra
foolish for bachelors foreigns the same if talking a poor english how
much smart they are on things love and sensations voluptuous. Misters
very selects for is pleasure must to visit heaven and hell show with
mortuary candles and they tears silver which occur every night. Perfectly
shocking terrific of religion's things mockery seen in universal world.
All chic womans which arrive full of modesty then disrobe and squeal loud
to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh young with DESSOUS TROUBLANTS.
(HE CLACKS HIS TONGUE LOUDLY) HO, LA LA! CE PIF QU'IL A!
LYNCH: VIVE LE VAMPIRE!
THE WHORES: Bravo! Parleyvoo!
STEPHEN: (GRIMACING WITH HEAD BACK, LAUGHS LOUDLY, CLAPPING HIMSELF)
Great success of laughing. Angels much prostitutes like and holy apostles
big damn ruffians. DEMIMONDAINES nicely handsome sparkling of diamonds
very amiable costumed. Or do you are fond better what belongs they
moderns pleasure turpitude of old mans? (HE POINTS ABOUT HIM WITH
GROTESQUE GESTURES WHICH LYNCH AND THE WHORES REPLY TO) Caoutchouc statue
woman reversible or lifesize tompeeptom of virgins nudities very lesbic
the kiss five ten times. Enter, gentleman, to see in mirror every
positions trapezes all that machine there besides also if desire act
awfully bestial butcher's boy pollutes in warm veal liver or omlet on the
belly PIECE DE SHAKESPEARE.
BELLA: (CLAPPING HER BELLY SINKS BACK ON THE SOFA, WITH A SHOUT OF
LAUGHTER) An omelette on the ... Ho! ho! ho! ho! ... omelette on the ...
STEPHEN: (MINCINGLY) I love you, sir darling. Speak you englishman tongue
for DOUBLE ENTENTE CORDIALE. O yes, MON LOUP. How much cost? Waterloo.
Watercloset. (HE CEASES SUDDENLY AND HOLDS UP A FOREFINGER)
BELLA: (LAUGHING) Omelette ...
THE WHORES: (LAUGHING) Encore! Encore!
STEPHEN: Mark me. I dreamt of a watermelon.
ZOE: Go abroad and love a foreign lady.
LYNCH: Across the world for a wife.
FLORRY: Dreams goes by contraries.
STEPHEN: (EXTENDS HIS ARMS) It was here. Street of harlots. In Serpentine
avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a fubsy widow. Where's the red carpet
spread?
BLOOM: (APPROACHING STEPHEN) Look ...
STEPHEN: No, I flew. My foes beneath me. And ever shall be. World without
end. (HE CRIES) PATER! Free!
BLOOM: I say, look ...
STEPHEN: Break my spirit, will he? O MERDE ALORS! (HE CRIES, HIS VULTURE
TALONS SHARPENED) Hola! Hillyho!
(SIMON DEDALUS' VOICE HILLOES IN ANSWER, SOMEWHAT SLEEPY BUT READY.)
SIMON: That's all right. (HE SWOOPS UNCERTAINLY THROUGH THE AIR,
WHEELING, UTTERING CRIES OF HEARTENING, ON STRONG PONDEROUS BUZZARD
WINGS) Ho, boy! Are you going to win? Hoop! Pschatt! Stable with those
halfcastes. Wouldn't let them within the bawl of an ass. Head up! Keep
our flag flying! An eagle gules volant in a field argent displayed.
Ulster king at arms! Haihoop! (HE MAKES THE BEAGLE'S CALL, GIVING TONGUE)
Bulbul! Burblblburblbl! Hai, boy!
(THE FRONDS AND SPACES OF THE WALLPAPER FILE RAPIDLY ACROSS COUNTRY. A
STOUT FOX, DRAWN FROM COVERT, BRUSH POINTED, HAVING BURIED HIS
GRANDMOTHER, RUNS SWIFT FOR THE OPEN, BRIGHTEYED, SEEKING BADGER EARTH,
UNDER THE LEAVES. THE PACK OF STAGHOUNDS FOLLOWS, NOSE TO THE GROUND,
SNIFFING THEIR QUARRY, BEAGLEBAYING, BURBLBRBLING TO BE BLOODED. WARD
UNION HUNTSMEN AND HUNTSWOMEN LIVE WITH THEM, HOT FOR A KILL. FROM SIX
MILE POINT, FLATHOUSE, NINE MILE STONE FOLLOW THE FOOTPEOPLE WITH KNOTTY
STICKS, HAYFORKS, SALMONGAFFS, LASSOS, FLOCKMASTERS WITH STOCKWHIPS,
BEARBAITERS WITH TOMTOMS, TOREADORS WITH BULLSWORDS, GREYNEGROES WAVING
TORCHES. THE CROWD BAWLS OF DICERS, CROWN AND ANCHOR PLAYERS,
THIMBLERIGGERS, BROADSMEN. CROWS AND TOUTS, HOARSE BOOKIES IN HIGH WIZARD
HATS CLAMOUR DEAFENINGLY.)
THE CROWD:
Card of the races. Racing card!
Ten to one the field!
Tommy on the clay here! Tommy on the clay!
Ten to one bar one! Ten to one bar one!
Try your luck on Spinning Jenny!
Ten to one bar one!
Sell the monkey, boys! Sell the monkey!
I'll give ten to one!
Ten to one bar one!
(A DARK HORSE, RIDERLESS, BOLTS LIKE A PHANTOM PAST THE WINNINGPOST, HIS
MANE MOONFOAMING, HIS EYEBALLS STARS. THE FIELD FOLLOWS, A BUNCH OF
BUCKING MOUNTS. SKELETON HORSES, SCEPTRE, MAXIMUM THE SECOND, ZINFANDEL,
THE DUKE OF WESTMINSTER'S SHOTOVER, REPULSE, THE DUKE OF BEAUFORT'S
CEYLON, PRIX DE PARIS. DWARFS RIDE THEM, RUSTYARMOURED, LEAPING, LEAPING
IN THEIR, IN THEIR SADDLES. LAST IN A DRIZZLE OF RAIN ON A BROKENWINDED
ISABELLE NAG, COCK OF THE NORTH, THE FAVOURITE, HONEY CAP, GREEN JACKET,
ORANGE SLEEVES, GARRETT DEASY UP, GRIPPING THE REINS, A HOCKEYSTICK AT
THE READY. HIS NAG ON SPAVINED WHITEGAITERED FEET JOGS ALONG THE ROCKY
ROAD.)
THE ORANGE LODGES: (JEERING) Get down and push, mister. Last lap! You'll
be home the night!
GARRETT DEASY: (BOLT UPRIGHT, HIS NAILSCRAPED FACE PLASTERED WITH
POSTAGESTAMPS, BRANDISHES HIS HOCKEYSTICK, HIS BLUE EYES FLASHING IN THE
PRISM OF THE CHANDELIER AS HIS MOUNT LOPES BY AT SCHOOLING GALLOP)
PER VIAS RECTAS!
(A YOKE OF BUCKETS LEOPARDS ALL OVER HIM AND HIS REARING NAG A TORRENT OF
MUTTON BROTH WITH DANCING COINS OF CARROTS, BARLEY, ONIONS, TURNIPS,
POTATOES.)
THE GREEN LODGES: Soft day, sir John! Soft day, your honour!
(PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY PASS BENEATH THE
WINDOWS, SINGING IN DISCORD.)
STEPHEN: Hark! Our friend noise in the street.
ZOE: (HOLDS UP HER HAND) Stop!
PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY:
Yet I've a sort a
Yorkshire relish for ...
ZOE: That's me. (SHE CLAPS HER HANDS) Dance! Dance! (SHE RUNS TO THE
PIANOLA) Who has twopence?
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