I changed a sovereign I remember. First of the month it must have been or the
second. O he can look it up in the prescriptions book.
The chemist turned back page after page. Sandy shrivelled smell he seems
to have. Shrunken skull. And old. Quest for the philosopher’s stone. The
alchemists. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Lethargy then. Why?
Reaction. A lifetime in a night. Gradually changes your character. Living
all the day among herbs, ointments, disinfectants. All his alabaster lilypots.
Mortar and pestle. Aq. Dist. Fol. Laur. Te Virid. Smell almost cure you like
the dentist’s doorbell. Doctor whack. He ought to physic himself a bit.
Electuary or emulsion. The first fellow that picked an herb to cure himself
had a bit of pluck. Simples. Want to be careful. Enough stuff here to
chloroform you. Test : turns blue litmus paper red. Chloroform. Overdose of
laudanum. Sleeping draughts. Lovephiltres. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for
cough. Clogs the pores or the phlegm. Poisons the only cures. Remedy where
you least expect it. Clever of nature.
— About a fortnight ago, sir?
— Yes, Mr Bloom said.
He waited by the counter, inhaling the keen reek of drugs, the dusty dry
smell of sponges and loofahs. Lot of time taken up telling your aches and pains.
— Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom said, and then
orangeflower water...
It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax.
— And white wax also, he said.
Brings out the darkness of her eyes. Looking at me, the sheet up to her
eyes, Spanish, smelling herself, when I was fixing the links in my cuffs. Those
homely recipes are often the best : strawberries for the teeth : nettles and
rainwater : oatmeal they say steeped in buttermilk. Skinfood. One of the
old queen’s sons, duke of Albany was it? had only one skin. Leopold yes.
Three we have. Warts, bunions and pimples to make it worse. But you want
a perfume too. What perfume does your? Peau d’Espagne. That orange-
flower. Pure curd soap. Water is so fresh. Nice smell these soaps have.
Time to get a bath round the corner. Hammam. Turkish. Massage. Dirt gets
rolled up in your navel. Nicer if a nice girl did it. Also I think I. Yes I. Do it in
the bath. Curious longing I. Water to water. Combine business with pleasure.
Pity no time for massage. Feel fresh then all day. Funeral be rather glum.
— Yes, sir, the chemist said. That was two and nine. Have you brought a
bottle?