"She was reading the card, propped on her elbow.
- She got the things, she said.
He waited till she had laid the card aside and curled herself back slowly with a snug sigh.
- Hurry up with that tea, she said. I'm parched." (U4.259)
"— The kettle is boiling, he said.
But he delayed to clear the chair: her striped petticoat, tossed soiled linen: and lifted all in an armful on to the foot of the bed.
As he went down the kitchen stairs she called:
— Poldy!
— What?
— Scald the teapot.
On the boil sure enough: a plume of steam from the spout." (U4.264)
"He scalded and rinsed out the teapot and put in four full spoons of tea, tilting the kettle then to let the water flow in. Having set it to draw he took off the kettle, crushed the pan flat on the live coals and watched the lump of butter slide and melt." (U4.271)
"While he unwrapped the kidney the cat mewed hungrily against him. Give her too much meat she won't mouse. Say they won't eat pork. Kosher. Here. He let the bloodsmeared paper fall to her and dropped the kidney amid the sizzling butter sauce. Pepper. He sprinkled it through his fingers ringwise from the chipped eggcup." (U4.275)
"Then he slit open his letter, glancing down the page and over. Thanks: new tam: Mr Coghlan: lough Owel picnic: young student: Blazes Boylan's seaside girls.
The tea was drawn. He filled his own moustachecup, sham crown Derby, smiling. Silly Milly's birthday gift." (U4.280)
"Only five she was then. No wait: four. I gave her the amberoid necklace she broke." (U4.284)
"Putting pieces of folded brown paper in the letterbox for her. He smiled, pouring." (U4.285)
"O, Milly Bloom, you are my darling.
You are my looking glass from night to morning.
I'd rather have you without a farthing
Than Katey Keogh with her ass and garden.

Poor old professor Goodwin. Dreadful old case. Still he was a courteous old chap. Oldfashioned way he used to bow Molly off the platform. And the little mirror in his silk hat. The night Milly brought it into the parlour. O, look what I found in professor Goodwin's hat! All we laughed." (U4.287)
"Sex breaking out even then. Pert little piece she was.
He prodded a fork into the kidney and slapped it over: then fitted the teapot on the tray. Its hump bumped as he took it up. Everything on it? Bread and butter, four, sugar, spoon, her cream. Yes. He carried it upstairs, his thumb hooked in the teapot handle.
Nudging the door open with his knee he carried the tray in and set it on the chair by the bedhead.
- What a time you were! she said." (U4.295)
"She set the brasses jingling as she raised herself briskly, an elbow on the pillow. He looked calmly down on her bulk and between her large soft bubs, sloping within her nightdress like a shegoat's udder. The warmth of her couched body rose on the air, mingling with the fragrance of the tea she poured.
A strip of torn envelope peeped from under the dimpled pillow. In the
— Who was the letter from? he asked.
Bold hand. Marion.
— O, Boylan, she said. He's bringing the programme." (U4.303)
"- What are you singing?
- Là ci darem with J. C. Doyle, she said, and Love's Old Sweet Song." ([U4.313])

La ci darem la Mano (in Italian = there we will be holding hands) is a duet for the characters Don Giovanni (baritone) and Zerlina (soprano) in Mozart's 1787 opera Don Giovanni (act 1, scene 9). In this aria, Don Giovanni is trying to seduce the peasant girl Zerlina on the day of her wedding to Masetto.

Love’s Old Sweet Song is a Victorian parlour song published in 1884 by composer James Lynam Molloy and lyricist G. Clifton Bingham. It is sometimes referred to by the title "Just a Song at Twilight," the first line of the chorus.
"Her full lips, drinking, smiled. Rather stale smell that incense leaves next day. Like foul flowerwater.
- Would you like the window open a little?
She doubled a slice of bread into her mouth, asking:
- What time is the funeral?
- Eleven, I think, he answered. I didn't see the paper." (U4.315)
"Following the pointing of her finger he took up a leg of her soiled drawers from the bed. No? Then, a twisted grey garter looped round a stocking: rumpled, shiny sole.
- No: that book.
Other stocking. Her petticoat.
- It must have fell down, she said." (U4.321)
"He felt here and there. Voglio e non vorrei. Wonder if she pronounces that right: voglio." (U4.327)

In the aria 'La ci darem',' Zerlina sings:
Vorrei e non vorrei,
Mi trema un poco il cor.
Felice, è ver, sarei,
Ma può burlarmi ancor.

I want to, but then I don't,
My heart is trembling a little.
True, I could be happy,
But again it could be a trick)
"Not in the bed. Must have slid down. He stooped and lifted the valance. The book, fallen, sprawled against the bulge of the orangekeyed" (U4.328)

The (Greek) key is a geometrical pattern used by Ancient Greeks in carvings and on pottery. There are many variations on it. You can see a simple Greek key on the scarf of the woman in this PC, and on the head band of the famous Charioteer statue in Delphi. Although its meaning is unknown, it has been postulated that the Greek key may be connected to the labyrinth where Theseus fought the Minotaur.
— Show here, she said. I put a mark in it. There's a word I wanted to ask
4.332 you." (U4.330)

Now imagine the chamberpot with an orange key design along its rim...
Calypso Pages: