Page:Ulysses, 1922.djvu/550

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(To Private Compton.) I don’t know your name but you are quite right. Doctor Swift says one man in armour will beat ten men in their shirts. Shirt is synechdoche. Part for the whole.

(To the crowd.) No, I was with the private.

(Amiably.) Why not? The bold soldier boy. In my opinion every lady for example…

(His cap awry, advancing to Stephen.) Say, how would it be, governor, if I was to bash in your jaw?

(Looks up in the sky.) How? Very unpleasant. Noble art of selfpretence. Personally, I detest action. (He waves his hand.) Hand hurts me slightly. Enfin, ce sont vos oignons. (To Cissy Caffrey.) Some trouble is on here. What is it, precisely?

(From her balcony waves her handkerchief giving the sign of the heroine of Jericho.) Rahab. Cook’s son, goodbye. Safe home to Dolly. Dream of the girl you left behind and she will dream of you.

(Elbowing through the crowd plucks Stephen’s sleeve vigorously.) Come now, professor, that carman is waiting.

(Turns.) Eh? (He disengages himself.) Why should I not speak to him or to any human being who walks upright upon this oblate orange? (He points his finger.) I’m not afraid of what I can talk to if I see his eye. Retaining the perpendicular.