BLOOM: (To Stephen) Come home. You'll get into trouble.
STEPHEN: (Swaying) I don't avoid it. He provokes my intelligence.
BIDDY THE CLAP: One immediately observes that he is of patrician lineage.
THE VIRAGO: Green above the red, says he. Wolfe Tone.
THE BAWD: The red's as good as the green. And better. Up the soldiers! Up King Edward!
A ROUGH: (Laughs) Ay! Hands up to De Wet.
THE CITIZEN: (With a huge emerald muffler and shillelagh, calls)
May the God above
Send down a dove
With teeth as sharp as razors
To slit the throats
Of the English dogs
That hanged our Irish leaders.
THE CROPPY BOY: (The ropenoose round his neck, gripes in his issuing bowels with both hands)
I bear no hate to a living thing, But I love my country beyond the king.
RUMBOLD, DEMON BARBER: (Accompanied by
