(General laughter.)

George Fottrell:  (Clerk of the crown and peace, resonantly) Order in court!  The accused will now make a bogus statement.

(Bloom, pleading not guilty and holding A FULLBLOWN Waterlily, begins A
long unintelligible speech.  They would hear what counsel had to say in
his stirring address to the grand jury.  He was down and out but, though
branded as A black sheep, if he might say so, he meant to reform, to
retrieve the memory of the past in A purely sisterly way and return to
nature as A purely domestic animal.  A SEVENMONTHS’ child, he had been
carefully brought up and nurtured by an aged bedridden parent.  There
might have been lapses of an erring father but he wanted to turn over A
new leaf and now, when at long last in sight of the whipping post, to
lead A homely life in the evening of his days, permeated by the
affectionate surroundings of the heaving bosom of the family.  An
acclimatised Britisher, he had seen that summer eve from the footplate of
an engine cab of the loop line railway company while the rain refrained
from falling glimpses, as it were, through the windows of LOVEFUL
households in Dublin city and Urban district of scenes truly rural of
happiness of the better land with Dockrell’s wallpaper at one and
ninepence A dozen, innocent BRITISHBORN bairns lisping prayers to the
sacred infant, youthful scholars grappling with their PENSUMS or