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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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- Стр. 638/821
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THE
NYMPH
:
During
dark
nights
I
heard
your
praise
.
BLOOM
:
(
Quickly
.
)
Yes
,
yes
.
You
mean
that
I
.
.
.
Sleep
reveals
the
worst
side
of
everyone
,
children
perhaps
excepted
.
I
know
I
fell
out
of
bed
or
rather
was
pushed
.
Steel
wine
is
said
to
cure
snoring
.
For
the
rest
there
is
that
English
invention
,
pamphlet
of
which
I
received
some
days
ago
,
incorrectly
addressed
.
It
claims
to
afford
a
noiseless
,
inoffensive
vent
.
(
He
sighs
.
)
’
Twas
ever
thus
.
Frailty
,
thy
name
is
marriage
.
THE
NYMPH
:
(
Her
fingers
in
her
ears
.
)
And
words
.
They
are
not
in
my
dictionary
.
BLOOM
:
You
understood
them
?
THE
YEWS
:
Ssh
!
THE
NYMPH
:
(
Covers
her
face
with
her
hands
.
)
What
have
I
not
seen
in
that
chamber
?
What
must
my
eyes
look
down
on
?
BLOOM
:
(
Apologetically
.
)
I
know
.
Soiled
personal
linen
,
wrong
side
up
with
care
.
The
quoits
are
loose
.
From
Gibraltar
by
long
sea
long
ago
.
THE
NYMPH
:
(
Bends
her
head
.
)
Worse
,
worse
!
BLOOM
:
(
Reflects
precautiously
.
)
That
antiquated
commode
.
It
wasn
’
t
her
weight
.
She
scaled
just
eleven
stone
nine
.
She
put
on
nine
pounds
after
weaning
.
It
was
a
crack
and
want
of
glue
.
Eh
?
And
that
absurd
orangekeyed
utensil
which
has
only
one
handle
.
