Bloom:  The stye I dislike.

Virag:  (Arches his eyebrows) Contact with a goldring, they say.  Argumentum ad FEMINAM, as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece in the consulship of Diplodocus and Ichthyosauros.  For the rest Eve’s sovereign remedy.  Not for sale.  Hire only.  Huguenot. (He TWITCHES) It is a funny sound. (He coughs encouragingly) But possibly it is only a wart.  I presume you shall have remembered what I will have taught you on that head?  Wheatenmeal with honey and nutmeg.

Bloom:  (Reflecting) Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax.  This searching ordeal.  It has been an unusually fatiguing day, a chapter of accidents.  Wait.  I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you said ...

Virag:  (Severely, his nose HARDHUMPED, his side eye winking) Stop twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk.  See, you have forgotten.  Exercise your mnemotechnic.  La CAUSA E Santa.  Tara.  Tara. (Aside) He will surely remember.

Bloom:  Rosemary also did I understand you to say or willpower over parasitic tissues.  Then nay no I have an inkling.  The touch of a deadhand cures.  Mnemo?

Virag:  (Excitedly) I say so.  I say so.  E’en so.  Technic. (He Taps his PARCHMENTROLL energetically) This book tells you how to act with all descriptive particulars.  Consult index for agitated fear of aconite, melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla.  Virag is going to talk about amputation.  Our old friend caustic.  They must be starved.  Snip off with horsehair under the denned neck.  But, to change the venue to the Bulgar and the Basque, have you made up your mind whether you like or dislike women in male habiliments? (With A dry snigger) You intended to devote an entire year to the study of the religious problem and the summer months of 1886 to square the circle and win that million.  Pomegranate!  From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step.  Pyjamas, let us say?  Or stockingette gussetted knickers, closed?  Or, put we the case, those complicated combinations, camiknickers? (He crows derisively) Keekeereekee!

(Bloom surveys uncertainly the three whores then gazes at the veiled mauve light, hearing the EVERFLYING moth.)

Bloom:  I wanted then to have now concluded.  Nightdress was never.  Hence this.  But tomorrow is a new day will be.  Past was is today.  What now is will then morrow as now was be past yester.