"- I know where he's gone, says Lenehan, cracking his fingers.
- Who? says I.
- Bloom, says he. The courthouse is a blind. He had a few bob on Throwaway" (U12.1548)
"and he's gone to gather in the shekels." (U12.1551)
"- Is it that whiteeyed kaffir? says the citizen, that never backed a horse in anger in his life?
- That's where he's gone, says Lenehan. I met Bantam Lyons going to back that horse only I put him off it and he told me Bloom gave him the tip." (U12.1552)
"Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five on. He's the only man in Dublin has it. A dark horse.A dark horse.
— He's a bloody dark horse himself, says Joe.
— Mind, Joe, says I. Show us the entrance out.
— There you are, says Terry." (U12.1555)
"Goodbye Ireland I'm going to Gort. So I just went round the back of the yard to pumpship and begob (hundred shillings to five) while I was letting off my (Throwaway twenty to) letting off my load gob says I to myself I knew he was uneasy in his (two pints off of Joe and one in Slattery's off) in his mind to get off the mark to (hundred shillings is five quid) and when they were in the (dark horse) pisser Burke was telling me card party and letting on the child was sick (gob, must have done about a gallon) flabbyarse of a wife speaking down the tube" (U12.1561)
"she's better or she's (ow!) all a plan so he could vamoose with the pool if he won or (Jesus, full up I was) trading without a licence (ow!) Ireland my nation says he (hoik! phthook!) never be up to those bloody (there's the last of it) Jerusalem (ah!) cuckoos." (U12.1568)

Chap. VI of 'The Symptoms, Nature, Cause and Cure of a Gonorrhoea' by W. Cockburn speaks 'Of the Sharpness and Pain in making Water.'
"So anyhow when I got back they were at it dingdong, John Wyse saying it was Bloom gave the ideas for Sinn Fein to Griffith to put in his paper all kinds of jerrymandering, packed juries and swindling the taxes off of the government and appointing consuls all over the world to walk about selling Irish industries. Robbing Peter to pay Paul. Gob, that puts the bloody kybosh on it if old sloppy eyes is mucking up the show. Give us a bloody chance." ([U12.1573])

Image of Arthur Griffith' book used by kind permission of Tim and Christine O'Neill.
"God save Ireland from the likes of that bloody mouseabout. Mr Bloom with his argol bargol." (U12.1579)
"And his old fellow before him perpetrating frauds, old Methusalem Bloom, the robbing bagman, that poisoned himself with the prussic acid after he swamping the country with his baubles and his penny diamonds." (U12.1580.5)
"Loans by post on easy terms. Any amount of money advanced on note of hand." (U12.1583)
"Distance no object. No security. Gob, he's like Lanty MacHale's goat that'd go a piece of the road with every one.
— Well, it's a fact, says John Wyse. And there's the man now that'll tell you all about it, Martin Cunningham.
Sure enough the castle car drove up with Martin on it and Jack Power with him" (U12.1584)
"and a fellow named Crofter or Crofton, pensioner out of the collector general's, an orangeman Blackburn does have on the registration and he drawing his pay or Crawford gallivanting around the country at the king's expense.
Our travellers reached the rustic hostelry and alighted from their palfreys." (U12.1589)

[NB: this is not Crofter, or Crofton]
"— Ho, varlet! cried he, who by his mien seemed the leader of the party. Saucy knave! To us!
So saying he knocked loudly with his swordhilt upon the open lattice.
Mine host came forth at the summons, girding him with his tabard.
— Give you good den, my masters, said he with an obsequious bow." (U12.1595)
"— Bestir thyself, sirrah! cried he who had knocked. Look to our steeds. And for ourselves give us of your best for ifaith we need it.
— Lackaday, good masters, said the host, my poor house has but a bare larder. I know not what to offer your lordships." (U12.1600)
"— How now, fellow? cried the second of the party, a man of pleasant countenance, So servest thou the king's messengers, master Taptun?
An instantaneous change overspread the landlord's visage.
— Cry you mercy, gentlemen, he said humbly. An you be the king's messengers (God shield His Majesty!) you shall not want for aught. The king's friends (God bless His Majesty!) shall not go afasting in my house I warrant me.
— Then about! cried the traveller who had not spoken, a lusty trencherman by his aspect. Hast aught to give us?
Mine host bowed again as he made answer:" (U12.1604)
"—What say you, good masters, to a squab pigeon pasty, some collops of venison, a saddle of veal, widgeon with crisp hog's bacon, a boar's head with pistachios, a bason of jolly custard, a medlar tansy and a flagon of old Rhenish?
—Gadzooks! cried the last speaker. That likes me well. Pistachios!
—Aha! cried he of the pleasant countenance. A poor house and a bare larder, quotha! 'Tis a merry rogue." (U12.1614)
Cyclops Pages: