Virag:  (His mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes stonily forlornly closed, psalms in outlandish monotone) That the cows with their those distended udders that they have been the the known ...

Bloom:  I am going to scream.  I beg your pardon.  Ah?  So. (He repeats) Spontaneously to seek out the saurian’s lair in order to entrust their teats to his avid suction.  Ant milks aphis. (Profoundly) Instinct rules the world.  In life.  In death.

Virag:  (Head askew, arches his back and hunched WINGSHOULDERS, peers at the moth out of blear bulged eyes, points A Horning claw and cries) Who’s moth moth?  Who’s dear Gerald?  Dear Ger, that you?  O dear, he is Gerald.  O, I much fear he shall be most badly burned.  Will some pleashe pershon not now impediment so catastrophics mit agitation of firstclass tablenumpkin? (He Mews) Puss puss puss puss! (He sighs, draws back and stares sideways down with dropping underjaw) Well, well.  He doth rest anon. (he snaps his jaws suddenly on the air)

The moth: 

    I’m a tiny tiny thing
    Ever flying in the spring
    Round and round a ringaring. 
    Long ago I was a king
    Now I do this kind of thing
    On the wing, on the wing! 
    Bing!

(He rushes against the mauve shade, flapping noisily) Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty petticoats.

(From left upper entrance with two gliding steps Henry flower comes
forward to left front centre.  He wears A dark mantle and drooping plumed
sombrero.  He carries A SILVERSTRINGED inlaid dulcimer and A LONGSTEMMED
Bamboo Jacob’s pipe, its clay bowl fashioned as A female head.  He wears
dark Velvet hose and SILVERBUCKLED pumps.  He has the romantic saviour’s
face with flowing locks, thin beard and moustache.  His spindlelegs and
Sparrow feet are those of the tenor Mario, prince of Candia.  He Settles
down his GOFFERED RUFFS and MOISTENS his lips with A passage of his
amorous tongue.)