Page 795 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

at the farther side of Talbot street) I’ll miss him. Run. Quick.
Better cross here.
(He darts to cross the road. Urchins shout.)

THE URCHINS: Mind out, mister! (Two cyclists, with
lighted paper lanterns aswing, swim by him, grazing him, their
bells rattling)
THE BELLS: Haltyaltyaltyall.
BLOOM: (Halts erect, stung by a spasm) Ow!
(He looks round, darts forward suddenly. Through rising fog a
dragon sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down
upon him, its huge red headlight winking, its trolley hissing on
the wire. The motorman bangs his footgong.)
THE GONG: Bang Bang Bla Bak Blud Bugg Bloo.
(The brake cracks violently. Bloom, raising a policeman’s
whitegloved hand, blunders stifflegged out of the track. The
motorman, thrown forward, pugnosed, on the guidewheel, yells as
he slides past over chains and keys.)
THE MOTORMAN: Hey, shitbreeches, are you
doing the hat trick?
BLOOM: (Bloom trickleaps to the curbstone and halts again.
He brushes a mudflake from his cheek with a parcelled hand.)
No thoroughfare. Close shave that but cured the stitch.
Must take up Sandow’s exercises again. On the hands
down. Insure against street accident too. The Providential.

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