(BLOOM SURVEYS UNCERTAINLY THE THREE WHORES THEN GAZES AT THE VEILED
MAUVE LIGHT, HEARING THE EVERFLYING MOTH.)
BLOOM: I wanted then to have now concluded. Nightdress was never. Hence
this. But tomorrow is a new day will be. Past was is today. What now is
will then morrow as now was be past yester.
VIRAG: (PROMPTS IN A PIG'S WHISPER) Insects of the day spend their brief
existence in reiterated coition, lured by the smell of the inferiorly
pulchritudinous fumale possessing extendified pudendal nerve in dorsal
region. Pretty Poll! (HIS YELLOW PARROTBEAK GABBLES NASALLY) They had a
proverb in the Carpathians in or about the year five thousand five
hundred and fifty of our era. One tablespoonful of honey will attract
friend Bruin more than half a dozen barrels of first choice malt vinegar.
Bear's buzz bothers bees. But of this apart. At another time we may
resume. We were very pleased, we others. (HE COUGHS AND, BENDING HIS
BROW, RUBS HIS NOSE THOUGHTFULLY WITH A SCOOPING HAND) You shall find
that these night insects follow the light. An illusion for remember their
complex unadjustable eye. For all these knotty points see the seventeenth
book of my Fundamentals of Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L.B.
says is the book sensation of the year. Some, to example, there are again
whose movements are automatic. Perceive. That is his appropriate sun.
Nightbird nightsun nighttown. Chase me, Charley! (he blows into Bloom's
ear) Buzz!
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