Ulysses

Ulysses, by James Joyce

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ulysses, by James Joyce #4 in our series by James
Joyce
Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for
your country before downloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg
eBook.
This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file.
Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the header without written permission.
Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the eBook and Project
Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is important information about your
specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. You can also find out about
how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
Title: Ulysses
Author: James Joyce
Release Date: July, 2003 [EBook #4300] [This file was first posted on December 27,
2001] [Edition 12 posted June 30th, 2002]
Edition: 12
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
Please Note: This etext edition of the Project Gutenberg Ulysses by James Joyce is based
on the pre-1923 print editions. Any suggested changes to this etext should be based on
comparison to that print edition, and not to the new 1986 and later print editions.

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ULYSSES ***

This etext was prepared by Col Choat .

Ulysses by James Joyce
-- I --

STATELY, PLUMP BUCK MULLIGAN CAME FROM THE STAIRHEAD, bearing a
bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown,
ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl
aloft and intoned:
--INTROIBO AD ALTARE DEI.
Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely:
--Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit!
Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about and blessed
gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and the awaking mountains. Then, catching
sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling
in his throat and shaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his
arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that
blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like
pale oak.
Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered the bowl smartly.
--Back to barracks! he said sternly.
He added in a preacher's tone:
--For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns.
Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One moment. A little trouble about those
white corpuscles. Silence, all.
He peered sideways up and gave a long slow whistle of call, then paused awhile in rapt
attention, his even white teeth glistening here and there with gold points. Chrysostomos.
Two strong shrill whistles answered through the calm.
--Thanks, old chap, he cried briskly. That will do nicely. Switch off the current, will you?
He skipped off the gunrest and looked gravely at his watcher, gathering about his legs the
loose folds of his gown. The plump shadowed face and sullen oval jowl recalled a prelate,
patron of arts in the middle ages. A pleasant smile broke quietly over his lips.

--The mockery of it! he said gaily. Your absurd name, an ancient Greek!
He pointed his finger in friendly jest and went over to the parapet, laughing to himself.
Stephen Dedalus stepped up, followed him wearily halfway and sat down on the edge of
the gunrest, watching him still as he propped his mirror on the parapet, dipped the brush
in the bowl and lathered cheeks and neck.
Buck Mulligan's gay voice went on.
--My name is absurd too: Malachi Mulligan, two dactyls. But it has a Hellenic ring, hasn't
it? Tripping and sunny like the buck himself. We must go to Athens. Will you come if I
can get the aunt to fork out twenty quid?
He laid the brush aside and, laughing with delight, cried:
--Will he come? The jejune jesuit!
Ceasing, he began to shave with care.
--Tell me, Mulligan, Stephen said quietly.
--Yes, my love?
--How long is Haines going to stay in this tower?
Buck Mulligan showed a shaven cheek over his right shoulder.
--God, isn't he dreadful? he said frankly. A ponderous Saxon. He thinks you're not a
gentleman. God, these bloody English! Bursting with money and indigestion. Because he
comes from Oxford. You know, Dedalus, you have the real Oxford manner. He can't
make you out.