Devils they are when that’s coming on them.  Dark devilish appearance.  Molly often told me feel things a ton weight.  Scratch the sole of my foot.  O that way!  O, that’s exquisite!  Feel it myself too.  Good to rest once in a way.  Wonder if it’s bad to go with them then.  Safe in one way.  Turns milk, makes fiddlestrings snap.  Something about withering plants I read in a garden.  Besides they say if the flower withers she wears she’s a flirt.  All are.  Daresay she felt 1.  When you feel like that you often meet what you feel.  Liked me or what?  Dress they look at.  Always know a fellow courting:  collars and cuffs.  Well cocks and lions do the same and stags.  Same time might prefer a tie undone or something.  Trousers?  Suppose I when I was?  No.  Gently does it.  Dislike rough and tumble.  Kiss in the dark and never tell.  Saw something in me.  Wonder what.  Sooner have me as I am than some poet chap with bearsgrease plastery hair, lovelock over his dexter optic.  To aid gentleman in literary.  Ought to attend to my appearance my age.  Didn’t let her see me in profile.  Still, you never know.  Pretty girls and ugly men marrying.  Beauty and the beast.  Besides I can’t be so if Molly.  Took off her hat to show her hair.  Wide brim.  Bought to hide her face, meeting someone might know her, bend down or carry a bunch of flowers to smell.  Hair strong in rut.  Ten bob I got for Molly’s combings when we were on the rocks in Holles street.  Why not?  Suppose he gave her money.  Why not?  All a prejudice.  She’s worth ten, fifteen, more, a pound.  What?  I think so.  All that for nothing.  Bold hand:  Mrs Marion.  Did I forget to write address on that letter like the postcard I sent to Flynn?  And the day I went to Drimmie’s without a necktie.  Wrangle with Molly it was put me off.  No, I remember.  Richie Goulding:  he’s another.  Weighs on his mind.  Funny my watch stopped at half past four.  Dust.  Shark liver oil they use to clean.  Could do it myself.  Save.  Was that just when he, she?

O, he did.  Into her.  She did.  Done.

Ah!

Mr Bloom with careful hand recomposed his wet shirt.  O Lord, that little limping devil.  Begins to feel cold and clammy.  Aftereffect not pleasant.  Still you have to get rid of it someway.  They don’t care.  Complimented perhaps.  Go home to nicey bread and milky and say night prayers with the kiddies.  Well, aren’t they?  See her as she is spoil all.  Must have the stage setting, the rouge, costume, position, music.  The name too.  Amours of actresses.  Nell Gwynn, Mrs Bracegirdle, Maud Branscombe.  Curtain up.  Moonlight silver effulgence.  Maiden discovered with pensive bosom.  Little sweetheart come and kiss me.  Still, I feel.  The strength it gives a man.  That’s the secret of it.  Good job I let off there behind the wall coming out of Dignam’s.  Cider that was.  Otherwise I couldn’t have.  Makes you want to sing after.  LACAUS ESANT TARATARA.  Suppose I spoke to her.  What about?  Bad