Улисс

           Ourinterviewofthismorninghasleftonmeadeepimpression.Thoughourages.Willwritefullytomorrow.I’mpartiallydrunk,bytheway.(Hetouchesthekeysagain.)Minorchordcomesnow.Yes.Notmuchhowever.

           (AlmidanoArtifoniholdsoutabatonrollofmusicwithvigorousmoustachework.)

           ARTIFONI:Cirifletta.Leirovinatutto.

           FLORRY:Singussomething.Love’soldsweetsong.

           STEPHEN:Novoice.Iamamostfinishedartist.Lynch,didIshowyoutheletteraboutthelute?

           FLORRY:(Smirking.)Thebirdthatcansingandwon’tsing.

           (TheSiamesetwins,PhilipDrunkandPhilipSober,twoOxforddonswithlawnmowers,appearinthewindowembrasure.BotharemaskedwithMatthewArnold’sface.)

           PHILIPSOBER:Takeafool’sadvice.Allisnotwell.Workitoutwiththebuttendofapencil,likeagoodyoungidiot.Threepoundstwelveyougot,twonotes,onesovereign,twocrowns,ifyouthbutknew.Mooney’senville,Mooney’ssurmer,theMoira,Larchet’s,Hollesstreethospital,Burke’s.Eh?Iamwatchingyou.

           PHILIPDRUNK:(Impatiently.)Ah,bosh,man.Gotohell!Ipaidmyway.IfIcouldonlyfindoutaboutoctaves.Reduplicationofpersonality.Whowasittoldmehisname?(Hislawnmowerbeginstopurr.)Aha,yes.Zoemousasagapo.HaveanotionIwasherebefore.WhenwasitnotAtkinsonhiscardIhavesomewhere.MacSomebody.UnmackIhaveit.Hetoldmeabout,holdon,Swinburne,wasit,no?

           FLORRY:Andthesong?

           STEPHEN:Spiritiswillingbutthefleshisweak.

           FLORRY:AreyououtofMaynooth?You’relikesomeoneIknewonce.

           STEPHEN:Outofitnow.(Tohimself.)Clever.