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e on； Ben； Simon Dedalus said。 By God； you're as good as ever you were。
Better； said Tomgin Kernan。 Most trenchant rendition of that ballad； upon my soul and honour it is。
Lablache； said Father Cowley。
Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the bar； mightily praisefed and all big roseate； on heavyfooted feet； his gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes in the air。
Big Benaden Dollard。 Big Benben。 Big Benben。
Rrr。
And deepmoved all； Simon trumping passion from foghorn nose； all laughing； they brought him forth； Ben Dollard； in right good cheer。
You're looking rubicund； George Lidwell said。
Miss Douce posed her rose to wait。
Ben machree； said Mr Dedalus； clapping Ben's fat back shoulderblade。 Fit as a fiddle； only he has a lot of adipose tissue concealed about his person。
Rrrrrrsss。
Fat of death； Simon； Ben Dollard growled。
Richie rift in the lute alone sat： Goulding； Collis； Ward。 Uncertainly he waited。 Unpaid Pat too。
Tap。 Tap。 Tap。 Tap。
Miss Mina Kennedy brought near her lips to ear of tankardone。
Mr Dollard； they murmured low。
Dollard； murmured tankard。
Tank one believed： Miss Kenn when she： that doll he was： she doll： the tank。
He murmured that he knew the name。 The name was familiar to him； that is to say。 That was to say he had heard the name of Dollard； was it？ Dollard； yes。
Yes； her lips said more loudly； Mr Dollard。 He sang that song lovely； murmured Mina。 And The last rose of summer was a lovely song。 Mina loved that song。 Tankard loved the song that Mina。
'Tis the last rose of summer Dollard left Bloom felt wind wound round inside。
Gassy thing that cider： binding too。 Wait。 Postoffice near Reuben J's one and eightpence too。 Get shut of it。 Dodge round by Greek street。 Wish I hadn't promised to meet。 Freer in air。 Music。 Gets on your nerves。 Beerpull。 Her hand that rocks the cradle rules the。 Ben Howth。 That rules the world。
Far。 Far。 Far。 Far。
Tap。 Tap。 Tap。 Tap。
Up the quay went Lionelleopold； naughty Henry with letter for Mady； with sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul with met him pike hoses went Poldy on。
Tap blind walked tapping by the tap the curbstone tapping； tap by tap。
Cowley； he stunts himself with it； kind of drunkenness。 Better give way only half way the way of a man with a maid。 Instance enthusiasts。 All ears。 Not lose a demisemiquaver。 Eyes shut。 Head nodding in time。 Dotty。 You daren't budge。 Thinking strictly prohibited。 Always talking shop。 Fiddlefaddle about notes。
All a kind of attempt to talk。 Unpleasant when it stops because you never know exac。 Organ in Gardiner street。 Old Glynn fifty quid a year。 Queer up there in the cockloft alone with stops and locks and keys。 Seated all day at the organ。 Maunder on for hours； talking to himself or the other fellow blowing the bellows。 Growl angry； then shriek cursing （want to have wadding or something in his no don't she cried）； then all of a soft sudden wee little wee little pippy wind。
Pwee！ A wee little wind piped eeee。 In Bloom's little wee。
Was he？ Mr Dedalus said； returning； with fetched pipe。 I was with him this morning at poor little Paddy Dignam's。。。
Ay； the Lord have mercy on him。
By the by there's a tuningfork in there on the。。。
Tap。 Tap。 Tap。 Tap。
The wife has a fine voice。 Or had。 What？ Lidwell asked。
O； that must be the tuner； Lydia said to Simonlionel first I saw； forgot it when he was here。
Blind he was she told George Lidwell second I saw。 And played so exquisitely； treat to hear。 Exquisite contrast： bronzelid minagold。
Shout！ Ben Dollard shouted； pouring。 Sing out！
'lldo！ cried Father Cowley。
Rrrrrr。
I feel I want。。。
Tap。 Tap。 Tap。 Tap。 Tap。
Very； Mr Dedalus said； staring hard at a headless sardine。
Under the sandwichbell lay on a bier of bread one last； one lonely； last sardine of summer。 Bloom alone。
Very； he stared。 The lower register； for choice。
Tap。 Tap。 Tap。 Tap。 Tap。 Tap。 Tap。 Tap。
Bloom went by Barry's。 Wish I could。 Wait。 That wonderworker if I had。 Twentyfour solicitors in that one house。 Litigation。 Love one another。 Piles of parchment。 Messrs Pick and Pocket have power of attorney。 Goulding； Collis； Ward。
But for example the chap that wallops the big drum。 His vocation： Micky Rooney's band。 Wonder how it first struck him。 Sitting at home after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the armchair。 Rehearsing his band part。 Pom。 Pompedy。 Jolly for the wife。 Asses' skins。 Welt them through life； then wallop after death。 Pom。 Wallop。 Seems to be what you call yashmak or I mean kismet。 Fate。
Tap。 Tap。 A stripling； blind； with a tapping cane； came taptaptapping by Daly's window where a mermaid； hair all streaming （but he couldn't see）； blew whiffs of a mermaid （blind couldn't）； mermaid coolest whiff of all。
Instruments。 A blade of grass； shell of her hands； then blow。 Even b and tissuepaper you can knock a tune out of。 Molly in her shift in Lombard street west； hair down。 I suppose each kind of trade made its own； don't you see？ Hunter with a horn。 Haw。 Have you the？ Cloche。 Sonnez la！ Shepherd his pipe。 Policeman a whistle。 Locks and keys！ Sweep！ Four o'clock's all's well！ Sleep！ All is lost now。 Drum？ Pompedy。 Wait； I know。 Towncrier； bumbailiff。 Long John。 Waken the dead。 Pom。 Dignam。 Poor little nominedomine。 Pom。 It is music； I mean of course it's all pom pom pom very much what they call da capo。 Still you can hear。 As we march we march along； march along。 Pom。
I must really。 Fff。 Now if I did that at a banquet。 Just a question of custom shah of Persia。 Breathe a prayer； drop a tear。 All the same he must have been a bit of a natural not to see it was a yeoman cap。 Muffled up。 Wonder who was that chap at the grave in the brown mackin。 O； the whore of the lane！
A frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the day along the quay towards Mr Bloom。 When first he saw that form endearing。 Yes； it is。 I feel so lonely。 Wet night in the lane。 Horn。 Who had the？ Heehaw。 Shesaw。 Off her beat here。 What is she？ Hope she。 Psst！ Any chance of your wash。 Knew Molly。 Had me decked。 Stout lady does be with you in the brown costume。 Put you off your stroke。 That appointment we made。 Knowing we'd never； well hardly ever。 Too dear too near to home sweet home。 Sees me； does she？ Looks a fright in the day。 Face like dip。 Damn her！ O； well； she has to live like the rest。 Look in here。
In Lionel Marks's antique saleshop window haughty Henry Lionel Leopold dear Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged candlestick melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags。 Bargain： six bob。 Might learn to play。 Cheap。 Let her pass。 Course everything is dear if you don't want it。 That's what good salesman is。 Make you buy what he wants to sell。 Chap sold me the Swedish razor he shaved me with。 Wanted to charge me for the edge he gave it。 She's passing now。 Six bob。
Must be the cider or perhaps the burgund。
Near bronze from anear near gold from afar they chinked their clinking glasses all； brighteyed and gallant； before bronze Lydia's tempting last rose of summer； rose of Castille。 First Lid； De； Cow； Ker； Doll； a fifth： Lidwell； Si Dedalus； Bob Cowley； Kernan and Big Ben Dollard。
Tap。 A youth entered a lonely Ormond hall。
Bloom viewed