"reverend father Theobald Mathew," (U11.763)
"jaunted as said before just now. " (U11.763)
"Atrot, in heat, heatseated. Cloche. Sonnez la. Cloche. Sonnez la. Slower the mare went up the hill" (U11.763)
"by the Rotunda," (U11.765)
"Rutland square. Too slow for Boylan, blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, joggled the mare.
An afterclang of Cowley's chords closed, died on the air made richer." (U11.765)
"And Richie Goulding drank his Power and Leopold Bloom his cider drank" (U11. 768)
"Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said they would partake of two more tankards if she did not mind. Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, at first, at second. She did not mind." (U11.768)
"- Seven days in jail, Ben Dollard said," (U11.772)
"on bread and water. Then you'd sing, Simon," (U11.772)
"like a garden thrush.
Lionel Simon, singer, laughed. Father Bob Cowley played. Mina Kennedy served. Second gentleman paid. Tom Kernan strutted in. Lydia, admired, admired. But Bloom sang dumb." (U11.772)
Richie, admiring, descanted on that man's glorious voice. He remembered one night long ago. Never forget that night. Si sang 'Twas rank and fame: in Ned Lambert's 'twas. Good God he never heard in all his life a note like that he never did then false one we had better part so clear so God he never heard since love lives not a clinking voice lives not ask Lambert he can tell you too." (U11.777)"
From Michael Balfe's 1857 opera 'The Rose of Castile':
'Twas rank and fame that tempted thee,
'Twas empire charmed thy heart...
But love was wealth, the world to me,
Then, false one, let us part...
"Goulding, a flush struggling in his pale, told Mr Bloom, face of the night, Si in Ned Lambert's, Dedalus' house, sang 'Twas rank and fame.
He, Mr Bloom, listened while he, Richie Goulding, told him, Mr Bloom, of the night he, Richie, heard him, Si Dedalus, sing 'Twas rank and fame in his, Ned Lambert's, house." (U11.784)
"Brothers-in-law: relations. We never speak as we pass by. Rift in the lute I think. Treats him with scorn. See. He admires him all the more. The night Si sang. The human voice, two tiny silky cords. Wonderful, more than all others.
That voice was a lamentation. Calmer now. It's in the silence after you feel you hear. Vibrations. Now silent air." (U11.789)
"Bloom ungyved his crisscrossed hands and with slack fingers plucked the slender catgut thong. He drew and plucked. It buzzed, it twanged. While Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while Tom Kernan, harking back in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening Father Cowley, who played a voluntary, who nodded as he played. While big Ben Dollard talked with Simon Dedalus, lighting, who nodded as he smoked, who smoked," (U11.795)
"Thou lost one. All songs on that theme. Yet more Bloom stretched his string. Cruel it seems. Let people get fond of each other: lure them on. Then tear asunder. Death. Explos. Knock on the head. Outtohelloutofthat. Human life. Dignam. Ugh, that rat's tail wriggling! Five bob I gave. Corpus paradisum. Corncrake croaker: belly like a poisoned pup. Gone. They sing. Forgotten. I too. And one day she with. Leave her: get tired. Suffer then. Snivel. Big spanishy eyes goggling at nothing." (U11.802)
"Her wavyavyeavyheavyeavyevyevyhair un comb:'d.
Yet too much happy bores." (U11.808)