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She fixes her bluecircled hollow eyesockets on Stephen and opens her toothless mouth uttering a silent word. THE CHOIR: Liliata rutilantium te confessorum... Iubilantium te virginum... BUCK MULLIGAN: She's beastly dead. The pity of it! Mulligan meets the afflicted mother. I am dead. No. What bogeyman's trick is this? Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody. She kicked the bucket. Epi oinopa ponton.

Look at yourself, he said, you dreadful bard! Stephen bent forward and peered at the mirror held out to him, cleft by a crooked crack. Hair on end. As he and others see me. Who chose this face for me? This dogsbody to rid of vermin. It asks me too. I pinched it out of the skivvy's room, Buck Mulligan said. It does her all right. The aunt always keeps plainlooking servants for Malachi.

He stopped, sniffed, stalked round it, brother, nosing closer, went round it, sniffling rapidly like a dog all over the dead dog's bedraggled fell. Dogskull, dogsniff, eyes on the ground, moves to one great goal. Ah, poor dogsbody! Here lies poor dogsbody's body. Tatters! Out of that, you mongrel!

The ring of bay and skyline held a dull green mass of liquid. A bowl of white china had stood beside her deathbed holding the green sluggish bile which she had torn up from her rotting liver by fits of loud groaning vomiting. Buck Mulligan wiped again his razorblade. Ah, poor dogsbody! he said in a kind voice. I must give you a shirt and a few noserags. How are the secondhand breeks?