— I, says Joe. I’m the alligator.
— And after all, says John Wyse, why can’t a jew love his country like the next fellow?
— Why not? says J. J., when he’s quite sure which country it is.
— Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the hell is he? says Ned. Or who is he? No offence, Crofton.
— We don’t want him, says Crofter the Orangeman or presbyterian.
— Who is Junius? says J. J.
— He’s a perverted jew, says Martin, from a place in Hungary and it was he drew up all the plans according to the Hungarian system. We know that in the castle.
— Isn’t he a cousin of Bloom the dentist? says Jack Power.
— Not at all, says Martin. Only namesakes. His name was Virag. The father’s name that poisoned himself. He changed it by deedpoll, the father did.
— That’s the new Messiah for Ireland! says the citizen. Island of saints and sages!
— Well, they’re still waiting for their redeemer, says Martin. For that matter so are we.
— Yes, says J. J., and every male that’s born they think it may be their Messiah. And every jew is in a tall state of excitement, I believe, till he knows if he’s a father or a mother.
— Expecting every moment will be his next, says Lenehan.
— O, by God, says Ned, you should have seen Bloom before that son of his that died was born. I met him one day in the south city markets buying a tin of Neave’s food six weeks before the wife was delivered.
— En ventre sa mère, says J. J.
— Do you call that a man? says the citizen.
— I wonder did he ever put it out of sight, says Joe.
— Well, there were two children born anyhow, says Jack Power.
— And who does he suspect? says the citizen.
Gob, there’s many a true word spoken in jest. One of those mixed middlings he is. Lying up in the hotel Pisser was telling me once a month with headache like a totty with her courses. Do you know what I’m telling you? It’d be an act of God to take a hold of a fellow the like of that and throw him in the bloody sea. Justifiable homicide, so it would. Then sloping off with his five quid without putting up a pint of stuff like a man. Give us your blessing. Not as much as would blind your eye.
