Done。
JOYCE：Ulysses，CyclopsCyclopsIWASJUSTPASSINGTHETIMEOFDAYWITHOLDTROYOTHED。M。P。atthecornerofArbourhillthereandbedamnedbutabloodysweepcamealongandheneardrovehisgearintomyeye。IturnedaroundtolethimhavetheweightofmytonguewhenwhoshouldIseedodgingalongStonyBatteronlyJoeHynes。
Lo，Joe，saysI。Howareyoublowing？Didyouseethatbloodychimneysweepnearshovemyeyeoutwithhisbrush？
Soot’sluck，saysJoe。Who’stheoldballocksyouweretalkingto？
OldTroy，saysI，wasintheforce。I’montwomindsnottogivethatfellowinchargeforobstructingthethoroughfarewithhisbroomsandladders。