(HENRY FLOWER COMBS HIS MOUSTACHE AND BEARD RAPIDLY WITH A POCKETCOMB AND
GIVES A COW'S LICK TO HIS HAIR. STEERED BY HIS RAPIER, HE GLIDES TO THE
DOOR, HIS WILD HARP SLUNG BEHIND HIM. VIRAG REACHES THE DOOR IN TWO
UNGAINLY STILTHOPS, HIS TAIL COCKED, AND DEFTLY CLAPS SIDEWAYS ON THE
WALL A PUSYELLOW FLYBILL, BUTTING IT WITH HIS HEAD.)

THE FLYBILL: K. II. Post No Bills. Strictly confidential. Dr Hy Franks.

HENRY: All is lost now.

(VIRAG UNSCREWS HIS HEAD IN A TRICE AND HOLDS IT UNDER HIS ARM.)

VIRAG'S HEAD: Quack!

(EXEUNT SEVERALLY.)

STEPHEN: (OVER HIS SHOULDER TO ZOE) You would have preferred the fighting
parson who founded the protestant error. But beware Antisthenes, the dog
sage, and the last end of Arius Heresiarchus. The agony in the closet.

LYNCH: All one and the same God to her.

STEPHEN: (DEVOUTLY) And sovereign Lord of all things.

FLORRY: (TO STEPHEN) I'm sure you're a spoiled priest. Or a monk.

LYNCH: He is. A cardinal's son.

STEPHEN: Cardinal sin. Monks of the screw.

(HIS EMINENCE SIMON STEPHEN CARDINAL DEDALUS, PRIMATE OF ALL IRELAND,
APPEARS IN THE DOORWAY, DRESSED IN RED SOUTANE, SANDALS AND SOCKS. SEVEN
DWARF SIMIAN ACOLYTES, ALSO IN RED, CARDINAL SINS, UPHOLD HIS TRAIN,
PEEPING UNDER IT. HE WEARS A BATTERED SILK HAT SIDEWAYS ON HIS HEAD. HIS
THUMBS ARE STUCK IN HIS ARMPITS AND HIS PALMS OUTSPREAD. ROUND HIS NECK
HANGS A ROSARY OF CORKS ENDING ON HIS BREAST IN A CORKSCREW CROSS.
RELEASING HIS THUMBS, HE INVOKES GRACE FROM ON HIGH WITH LARGE WAVE
GESTURES AND PROCLAIMS WITH BLOATED POMP:)

THE CARDINAL:


Conservio lies captured
He lies in the lowest dungeon
With manacles and chains around his limbs
Weighing upwards of three tons.


(HE LOOKS AT ALL FOR A MOMENT, HIS RIGHT EYE CLOSED TIGHT, HIS LEFT CHEEK
PUFFED OUT. THEN, UNABLE TO REPRESS HIS MERRIMENT, HE ROCKS TO AND FRO,
ARMS AKIMBO, AND SINGS WITH BROAD ROLLICKING HUMOUR:)


O, the poor little fellow
Hihihihihis legs they were yellow
He was plump, fat and heavy and brisk as a snake
But some bloody savage
To graize his white cabbage
He murdered Nell Flaherty's duckloving drake.


(A MULTITUDE OF MIDGES SWARMS WHITE OVER HIS ROBE. HE SCRATCHES HIMSELF
WITH CROSSED ARMS AT HIS RIBS, GRIMACING, AND EXCLAIMS:)

I'm suffering the agony of the damned. By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to
Jesus those funny little chaps are not unanimous. If they were they'd
walk me off the face of the bloody globe.

(HIS HEAD ASLANT HE BLESSES CURTLY WITH FORE AND MIDDLE FINGERS, IMPARTS
THE EASTER KISS AND DOUBLESHUFFLES OFF COMICALLY, SWAYING HIS HAT FROM
SIDE TO SIDE, SHRINKING QUICKLY TO THE SIZE OF HIS TRAINBEARERS. THE
DWARF ACOLYTES, GIGGLING, PEEPING, NUDGING, OGLING, EASTERKISSING, ZIGZAG
BEHIND HIM. HIS VOICE IS HEARD MELLOW FROM AFAR, MERCIFUL MALE,
MELODIOUS:)


Shall carry my heart to thee,
Shall carry my heart to thee,
And the breath of the balmy night
Shall carry my heart to thee!


(THE TRICK DOORHANDLE TURNS.)

THE DOORHANDLE: Theeee!

ZOE: The devil is in that door.

(A MALE FORM PASSES DOWN THE CREAKING STAIRCASE AND IS HEARD TAKING THE
WATERPROOF AND HAT FROM THE RACK. BLOOM STARTS FORWARD INVOLUNTARILY AND,
HALF CLOSING THE DOOR AS HE PASSES, TAKES THE CHOCOLATE FROM HIS POCKET
AND OFFERS IT NERVOUSLY TO ZOE.)

ZOE: (SNIFFS HIS HAIR BRISKLY) Hmmm! Thank your mother for the rabbits.
I'm very fond of what I like.

BLOOM: (HEARING A MALE VOICE IN TALK WITH THE WHORES ON THE DOORSTEP,
PRICKS HIS EARS) If it were he? After? Or because not? Or the double
event?



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