The nymph:  (Sadly) Rubber goods.  Neverrip brand as supplied to the aristocracy.  Corsets for men.  I cure fits or money refunded.  Unsolicited testimonials for Professor Waldmann’s wonderful chest exuber.  My bust developed four inches in three weeks, reports Mrs Gus Rublin with photo.

Bloom:  You mean photo bits?

The nymph:  I do.  You bore me away, framed me in oak and tinsel, set me above your marriage couch.  Unseen, one summer eve, you kissed me in four places.  And with loving pencil you shaded my eyes, my bosom and my shame.

Bloom:  (Humbly kisses her long hair) Your classic curves, beautiful immortal, I was glad to look on you, to praise you, a thing of beauty, almost to pray.

The nymph:  During dark nights I heard your praise.

Bloom:  (Quickly) Yes, yes.  You mean that I ...  Sleep reveals the worst side of everyone, children perhaps excepted.  I know I fell out of bed or rather was pushed.  Steel wine is said to cure snoring.  For the rest there is that English invention, pamphlet of which I received some days ago, incorrectly addressed.  It claims to afford a noiseless, inoffensive vent.  (He sighs) ’Twas ever thus.  Frailty, thy name is marriage.

The nymph:  (Her fingers in her ears) And words.  They are not in my dictionary.

Bloom:  You understood them?

The YEWS:  Ssh!

The nymph:  (Covers her face with her hands) What have I not seen in that chamber?  What must my eyes look down on?

Bloom:  (Apologetically) I know.  Soiled personal linen, wrong side up with care.  The quoits are loose.  From Gibraltar by long sea long ago.

The nymph:  (Bends her head) Worse, worse!

Bloom:  (Reflects PRECAUTIOUSLY) That antiquated commode.  It wasn’t her weight.  She scaled just eleven stone nine.  She put on nine pounds after weaning.  It was a crack and want of glue.  Eh?  And that absurd orangekeyed utensil which has only one handle.

(The sound of A waterfall is heard in bright Cascade.)

The waterfall: 

    Poulaphouca Poulaphouca
    Poulaphouca Poulaphouca.

The YEWS:  (Mingling their boughs) Listen.  Whisper.  She is right, our sister.  We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall.  We gave shade on languorous summer days.

John Wyse Nolan:  (In the background, in irish national FORESTER’S uniform, doffs his plumed hat) Prosper!  Give shade on languorous days, trees of Ireland!