jingles tooraloom round the corner of the tooraloom lane. Corny Kelleher
again REASSURALOOMS with his hand. Bloom with his hand ASSURALOOMS corny
Kelleher that he is REASSURALOOMTAY. The tinkling hoofs and jingling
harness grow fainter with their TOORALOOLOO LOOLOO lay. Bloom, holding in
his hand Stephen’s hat, festooned with shavings, and ashplant, stands
irresolute. Then he bends to him and shakes him by the shoulder.)
Bloom: Eh! Ho! (There is
no answer; he bends again)
Mr Dedalus! (There is
no answer) The name if you call. Somnambulist. (He bends again and
hesitating, brings his mouth near the face of the prostrate form)
Stephen! (There is no answer. He calls again.) Stephen!
Stephen: (Groans) Who? Black panther.
Vampire. (He sighs and stretches
himself, then murmurs thickly with prolonged vowels)
Who ... drive... Fergus
And pierce ... wood’s woven shade? ...
(He turns on his left side, sighing, doubling himself together.)
Bloom: Poetry. Well educated. Pity. (He bends again and undoes the buttons of Stephen’s waistcoat) To breathe. (He brushes the WOODSHAVINGS from Stephen’s clothes with light hand and fingers) One pound seven. Not hurt anyhow. (He listens) What?
... shadows ... the woods
... white breast... dim sea.
(He stretches out his arms, sighs again and curls
his body. Bloom,
holding the hat and ashplant, stands erect. A dog barks in the distance.
Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the ashplant. He looks down on
Stephen’s face and form.)