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Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a neat square and lodged the soap in it , smiling . Silly lips of that chap . Betting . Regular hotbed of it lately . Messenger boys stealing to put on sixpence . Raffle for large tender turkey . Your Christmas dinner for threepence . Jack Fleming embezzling to gamble then smuggled off to America . Keeps a hotel now . They never come back . Fleshpots of Egypt . He walked cheerfully towards the mosque of the baths . Remind you of a mosque , redbaked bricks , the minarets . College sports today I see . He eyed the horseshoe poster over the gate of college park : cyclist doubled up like a cod in a pot . Damn bad ad . Now if they had made it round like a wheel . Then the spokes : sports , sports , sports : and the hub big : college . Something to catch the eye . There’s Hornblower standing at the porter’s lodge . Keep him on hands : might take a turn in there on the nod . How do you do , Mr Hornblower ? How do you do , sir ? Heavenly weather really . If life was always like that . Cricket weather . Sit around under sunshades . Over after over . Out . They can’t play it here . Duck for six wickets . Still Captain Culler broke a window in the Kildare street club with a slog to square leg . Donnybrook fair more in their line . And the skulls we were acracking when M’Carthy took the floor . Heatwave . Won’t last . Always passing , the stream of life , which in the stream of life we trace is dearer than them all . Enjoy a bath now : clean trough of water , cool enamel , the gentle tepid stream . This is my body . He foresaw his pale body reclined in it at full , naked , in a womb of warmth , oiled by scented melting soap , softly laved . He saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained , buoyed lightly upward , lemonyellow : his navel , bud of flesh : and saw the dark tangled curls of his bush floating , floating hair of the stream around the limp father of thousands , a languid floating flower . [ 6 ] Martin Cunningham , first , poked his silkhatted head into the creaking carriage and , entering deftly , seated himself . Mr Power stepped in after him , curving his height with care . — Come on , Simon . — After you , Mr Bloom said . Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in , saying : — Yes , yes . — Are we all here now ? Martin Cunningham asked . Come along , Bloom . Mr Bloom entered and sat in the vacant place . He pulled the door to after him and slammed it twice till it shut tight . He passed an arm through the armstrap and looked seriously from the open carriagewindow at the lowered blinds of the avenue . One dragged aside : an old woman peeping . Nose whiteflattened against the pane . Thanking her stars she was passed over . Extraordinary the interest they take in a corpse . Glad to see us go we give them such trouble coming . Job seems to suit them . Huggermugger in corners . Slop about in slipperslappers for fear he’d wake . Then getting it ready . Laying it out . Molly and Mrs Fleming making the bed . Pull it more to your side . Our windingsheet . Never know who will touch you dead . Wash and shampoo . I believe they clip the nails and the hair . Keep a bit in an envelope . Grows all the same after . Unclean job .
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