"Feel fresh then all day. Funeral be rather glum. (U5.505)
"- Yes, sir, the chemist said. That was two and nine. Have you brought a bottle?" (U5.507)
"- No, Mr Bloom said. Make it up, please. I'll call later in the day and I'll take one of those soaps. How much are they?
- Fourpence, sir." (U5.509)
"Mr Bloom raised a cake to his nostrils. Sweet lemony wax.
- I'll take this one, he said. That makes three and a penny.
- Yes, sir, the chemist said. You can pay all together, sir, when you come back.
- Good, Mr Bloom said.
He strolled out of the shop, the newspaper baton under his armpit, the coolwrappered soap in his left hand." (U5.512)
"At his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and hand said:
- Hello, Bloom. What's the best news? Is that today's? Show us a minute.
Shaved off his moustache again, by Jove! Long cold upper lip. To look younger. He does look balmy. Younger than I am.
Bantam Lyons' yellow blacknailed fingers unrolled the baton. Wants a wash too. Take off the rough dirt." (U5.519)
"Good morning, have you used Pears' soap? Dandruff on his shoulders. Scalp wants oiling." (U5.524)
"- I want to see about that French horse that's running today, Bantam Lyons said. Where the bugger is it?
He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his high collar. Barber's itch." (U5.526)
"Tight collar he'll lose his hair. Better leave him the paper and get shut of him.
- You can keep it, Mr Bloom said." (U5.529)

A tight collar impedes blood circulation. This ad in Pearson's Magazine (1905) makes it clear: 'Baldness and falling hair are caused by the lack of proper nourishment of the hair roots. This lack of nourishment is due to the absence of blood in the scalp - an abnormal condition. It is the blood which conveys nourishment to the hair roots as well as to every other part of the body. If you want the hair to grow on the scalp the blood must be made to circulate there.'
"- Ascot. Gold cup. Wait, Bantam Lyons muttered. Half a mo. Maximum the second.
- I was just going to throw it away, Mr Bloom said.
Bantam Lyons raised his eyes suddenly and leered weakly.
- What's that? his sharp voice said.
- I say you can keep it, Mr Bloom answered. I was going to throw it away that moment.
Bantam Lyons doubted an instant, leering: then thrust the outspread sheets back on Mr Bloom's arms.
- I'll risk it, he said. Here, thanks.
He sped off towards Conway's corner. God speed scut." (U5.531)
"Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a neat square and lodged the soap in it, smiling. Silly lips of that chap. Betting. Regular hotbed of it lately. Messenger boys stealing to put on sixpence. Raffle for large tender turkey. Your Christmas dinner for threepence." (U5.543)
"Jack Fleming embezzling to gamble then smuggled off to America. Keeps a hotel now." (U5.546)
"They never come back. Fleshpots of Egypt.
He walked cheerfully towards the mosque of the baths. Remind you of a mosque, redbaked bricks, the minarets." (U5.547)
"College sports today I see. He eyed the horseshoe poster over the gate of college park: cyclist doubled up like a cod in a pot. Damn bad ad. Now if they had made it round like a wheel. Then the spokes: sports, sports, sports: and the hub big: college. Something to catch the eye.
There's Hornblower standing at the porter's lodge. Keep him on hands: might take a turn in there on the nod. How do you do, Mr Hornblower? How do you do, sir?" (U5.550)
"Heavenly weather really. If life was always like that. Cricket weather. Sit around under sunshades. Over after over. Out. They can't play it here. Duck for six wickets. Still Captain Buller broke a window in the Kildare street club with a slog to square leg." (U5.558)
"Donnybrook fair more in their line. And the skulls we were acracking when M'Carthy took the floor. Heatwave. Won't last." (U5.561)
"Always passing, the stream of life, which in the stream of life we trace is dearer thaaan them all." (U5.563)

From the song 'In happy moments day by day'
in the opera Maritana Act II scene 1
Composed by William Vincent Wallace (1812 - 1865) & Edward Fitzball (1792 - 1873).

'In happy moments, day by day, the sands of life may pass
In swift but tranquil tide away, for time's unerring glass.
Yet hopes we used as bright to deem remembrance will recall.
Whose pure and whose unfading beam is dearer than them all...'
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