- I'm just running round to Bachelor's walk, Mr Bloom said, about this ad of Keyes's. Want to fix it up. They tell me he's round there in Dillon's.
He looked indecisively for a moment at their faces. The editor who, leaning against the mantelshelf, had propped his head on his hand, suddenly stretched forth an arm amply.
- Begone! he said. The world is before you.
- Back in no time, Mr Bloom said, hurrying out.
J. J. O'Molloy took the tissues from Lenehan's hand and read them, blowing them apart gently, without comment.
- He'll get that advertisement, the professor said, staring through his blackrimmed spectacles over the crossblind. Look at the young scamps after him.
- Show. Where? Lenehan cried, running to the window." (U7.429)
Both smiled over the crossblind at the file of capering newsboys in Mr Bloom's wake, the last zigzagging white on the breeze a mocking kite, a tail of white bowknots.
- Look at the young guttersnipe behind him hue and cry, Lenehan said, and you'll kick. O, my rib risible! Taking off his flat spaugs and the walk. Small nines. Steal upon larks." (U7.443)
- What's that? Myles Crawford said with a start. Where are the other two gone?
- Who? the professor said, turning. They're gone round to the Oval for a drink. Paddy Hooper is there with Jack Hall. Came over last night.
- Come on then, Myles Crawford said. Where's my hat?" (U7.450)
- He's pretty well on, professor MacHugh said in a low voice.
- Seems to be, J.J. O'Molloy said, taking out a cigarette case in murmuring meditation, but it is not always as it seems. Who has the most matches?" (U7.458)
He offered a cigarette to the professor and took one himself. Lenehan promptly struck a match for them and lit their cigarettes in turn. J.J. O'Molloy opened his case again and offered it.
- Thanky vous, Lenehan said, helping himself." (U7.464)
- 'Twas rank and fame that tempted thee,
'Twas empire charmed thy heart.
The professor grinned, locking his long lips.
- Eh? You bloody old Roman empire? Myles Crawford said.
He took a cigarette from the open case. Lenehan, lighting it for him with quick grace, said:
- Silence for my brandnew riddle!
- Imperium romanum, J.J. O'Molloy said gently. It sounds nobler than British or Brixton. The word reminds one somehow of fat in the fire.
Myles Crawford blew his first puff violently towards the ceiling.
- That's it, he said. We are the fat. You and I are the fat in the fire. We haven't got the chance of a snowball in hell." (U7.469)
- Wait a moment, professor MacHugh said, raising two quiet claws. We mustn't be led away by words, by sounds of words. We think of Rome, imperial, imperious, imperative.
He extended elocutionary arms from frayed stained shirtcuffs, pausing:
- What was their civilisation? Vast, I allow: but vile. Cloacae: sewers." (U6.483)
- Which they accordingly did do, Lenehan said. Our old ancient ancestors, as we read in the first chapter of Guinness's, were partial to the running stream." (U7.491)
- And Pontius Pilate is its prophet, professor MacHugh responded." (U7.499)
- First my riddle, Lenehan said. Are you ready?" (U7.502)
— Silence! What opera resembles a railwayline? Reflect, ponder, excogitate, reply.
Stephen handed over the typed sheets, pointing to the title and signature.
— Who? the editor asked. Bit torn off.
— Mr Garrett Deasy, Stephen said.
— That old pelters, the editor said. Who tore it? Was he short taken?
On swift sail flaming
From storm and south
He comes, pale vampire,
Mouth to my mouth." (U9.512)
SHINDY IN WELLKNOWN RESTAURANT
— Good day, sir, Stephen answered blushing. The letter is not mine. MrGarrett Deasy asked me to..." (U7.526)
A woman brought sin into the world." (U7.532)
— Ay, a grass one, Myles Crawford said, his eye running down the typescript. Emperor's horses. Habsburg. An Irishman saved his life on the ramparts of Vienna. Don't you forget! Maximilian Karl O'Donnell, graf von Tirconnell in Ireland. Sent his heir over to make the king an Austrian fieldmarshal now. Going to be trouble there one day. Wild geese. O yes, every time. Don't you forget that!
— The moot point is did he forget it, J. J. O'Molloy said quietly, turning a horseshoe paperweight. Saving princes is a thankyou job.
Professor MacHugh turned on him.
— And if not? he said.
— I'll tell you how it was, Myles Crawford began. A Hungarian it was one day... (U7.538)