Are you going far, queer fellow?
How's your middle leg?
Got a match on you?
Eh, come here till I stiffen it for you." (U15.599)
(Belching.) Where's the bloody house?
Purdon street. Shilling a bottle of stout. Respectable woman." (U15.604)
(Gripping the two redcoats, staggers forward with them.)
Come on, you British army!
(Behind his back.) He aint half balmy.
(Laughs.) What ho!" (U15.613)
This CDV shows a turn of the century British soldier, photographed by Lauder Bros. in Dublin.
(To the navvy.) Portobello barracks canteen. You ask for Carr. Just Carr.
We are the boys. Of Wexford." (U15.620)
Wildgoose chase this. Disorderly houses. Lord knows where they are gone. Drunks cover distance double quick. Nice mixup. Scene at Westland row." (U15.633)
Sweet are the sweets. Sweets of sin.
My spine's a bit limp. Go or turn? And this food? Eat it and get all pigsticky. Absurd I am. Waste of money. One and eightpence too much. (The retriever drives a cold snivelling muzzle against his hand, wagging his tail.) Strange how they take to me. Even that brute today." (U15.652)
(With regret he lets the unrolled crubeen and trotter slide." (U15.660)
Bloom. Of Bloom. For Bloom. Bloom.
(Each lays hand on Bloom's shoulder.)
Caught in the act. Commit no nuisance." (U15.676)
(Stammers.) I am doing good to others.
(A covey of gulls, storm petrels, rises hungrily from Liffey slime with Banbury cakes in their beaks.)
Kaw kave kankury kake." (U15.681)
The friend of man. Trained by kindness.
(He points. Bob Doran, toppling from a high barstool, sways over the munching spaniel.)" (U15.689)
Towser. Give us the paw. Give the paw.
(The bulldog growls, his scruff standing, a gobbet of pig's knuckle between his molars through which rabid scumspittle dribbles. Bob Doran falls silently into an area.)" (U15.691)
(With a sinister smile.) Ladies and gentlemen, my educated greyhound. It was I broke in the bucking broncho Ajax with my patent spiked saddle for carnivores. Lash under the belly with a knotted thong. Block tackle and a strangling pully will bring your lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even Leo ferox there, the Libyan maneater. A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the thinking hyena. (he glares) I possess the Indian sign. The glint of my eye does it with these breastsparklers." (U15.707)