PRIVATE COMPTON: (Waves the crowd back.) Fair play, here. Make a bleeding butcher’s shop of the bugger.
(Massed bands blare Garryowen and God save the King.)
CISSY CAFFREY: They’re going to fight. For me!
CUNTY KATE: The brave and the fair.
BIDDY THE CLAP: Methinks yon sable knight will joust it with the best.
CUNTY KATE: (Blushing deeply.) Nay, madam. The gules doublet and merry saint George for me!
STEPHEN:
The harlot’s cry from street to street
Shall weave Old Ireland’s windingsheet.
PRIVATE CARR: (Loosening his belt, shouts.) I’ll wring the neck of any fucking bastard says a word against my bleeding fucking king.
BLOOM: (Shakes Cissy Caffrey’s shoulders.) Speak, you! Are you struck dumb? You are the link between nations and generations. Speak, woman, sacred lifegiver!