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Ulysses 

935 

of

 1305 

FLORRY: And me? 

LYNCH: Hoopla! (He lifts her, carries her and bumps her 

down on the sofa.) 

STEPHEN: 

The fox crew, the cocks flew, 

The bells in heaven 

Were striking eleven. 

‘Tis time for her poor soul 

To get out of heaven.  

BLOOM: (Quietly lays a half sovereign on the table between 

bella and florry) So. Allow me. (He takes up the poundnote) 

Three times ten. We’re square. 

BELLA: (Admiringly) You’re such a slyboots, old cocky. 

I could kiss you. 

ZOE:  (Points) Him? Deep as a drawwell. (Lynch bends 

Kitty back over the sofa and kisses her. Bloom goes with the 

poundnote to Stephen.) 

BLOOM: This is yours. 

STEPHEN: How is that? Les distrait or absentminded 

beggar. (He fumbles again in his pocket and draws out a handful 

of coins. An object fills.) That fell. 

BLOOM: (Stooping, picks up and hands a box of matches) 

This. 

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STEPHEN: Lucifer. Thanks. 

BLOOM: (Quietly) You had better hand over that cash 

to me to take care of. Why pay more? 

STEPHEN: (Hands him all his coins) Be just before you 

are generous. 

BLOOM: I will but is it wise? (He counts) One, seven, 

eleven, and five. Six. Eleven. I don’t answer for what you 

may have lost. 

STEPHEN: Why striking eleven? Proparoxyton. 

Moment before the next Lessing says. Thirsty fox. (He 

laughs loudly) Burying his grandmother. Probably he killed 

her. 

BLOOM: That is one pound six and eleven. One 

pound seven, say. 

STEPHEN: Doesn’t matter a rambling damn. 

BLOOM: No, but ... 

STEPHEN: (Comes to the table) Cigarette, please. (Lynch 

tosses a cigarette from the sofa to the table) And so Georgina 

Johnson is dead and married. (A cigarette appears on the table. 

Stephen looks at it) Wonder. Parlour magic. Married. Hm. 

(He strikes a match and proceeds to light the cigarette with 

enigmatic melancholy) 

LYNCH:  (Watching him) You would have a better 

chance of lighting it if you held the match nearer. 

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STEPHEN:  (Brings the match near his eye) Lynx eye. 

Must get glasses. Broke them yesterday. Sixteen years ago. 

Distance. The eye sees all flat. (He draws the match away. It 

goes out.) Brain thinks. Near: far. Ineluctable modality of 

the visible. (He frowns mysteriously) Hm. Sphinx. The beast 

that has twobacks at midnight. Married. 

ZOE: It was a commercial traveller married her and 

took her away with him. 

FLORRY: (Nods) Mr Lambe from London. 

STEPHEN: Lamb of London, who takest away the sins 

of our world. 

LYNCH:  (Embracing Kitty on the sofa, chants deeply) 

Dona nobis pacem. 

(The cigarette slips from Stephen ‘s fingers. Bloom picks it up 

and throws it in the grate.) 

BLOOM: Don’t smoke. You ought to eat. Cursed dog 

I met. (To Zoe) You have nothing? 

ZOE: Is he hungry? 

STEPHEN: (Extends his hand to her smiling and chants to 

the air of the bloodoath in the Dusk of the Gods) 

Hangende Hunger, 

Fragende Frau, 

Macht uns alle kaputt.  

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ZOE: (Tragically) Hamlet, I am thy father’s gimlet! (She 

takes his hand) Blue eyes beauty I’ll read your hand. (She 

points to his forehead) No wit, no wrinkles. (She counts) 

Two, three, Mars, that’s courage. (Stephen shakes his head) 

No kid. 

LYNCH: Sheet lightning courage. The youth who 

could not shiver and shake. (To Zoe) Who taught you 

palmistry? 

ZOE:  (Turns) Ask my ballocks that I haven’t got. (To 

Stephen) I see it in your face. The eye, like that. (She frowns 

with lowered head) 

LYNCH:  (Laughing, slaps Kitty behind twice) Like that. 

Pandybat. 

(Twice loudly a pandybat cracks, the coffin of the pianola flies 

open, the bald little round jack-in-the-box head of Father Dolan 

springs up.) 

FATHER DOLAN: Any boy want flogging? Broke his 

glasses? Lazy idle little schemer. See it in your eye. 

(Mild, benign, rectorial, reproving, the head of Don John 

Conmee rises from the pianola coffin.) 

DON JOHN CONMEE: Now, Father Dolan! Now. 

I’m sure that Stephen is a very good little boy! 

ZOE: (Examining Stephen’s palm) Woman’s hand. 

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STEPHEN:  (Murmurs) Continue. Lie. Hold me. 

Caress. I never could read His handwriting except His 

criminal thumbprint on the haddock. 

ZOE: What day were you born? 

STEPHEN: Thursday. Today. 

ZOE: Thursday’s child has far to go. (She traces lines on 

his hand) Line of fate. Influential friends. 

FLORRY: (Pointing) Imagination. 

ZOE: Mount of the moon. You’ll meet with a ... (She 

peers at his hands abruptly) I won’t tell you what’s not good 

for you. Or do you want to know? 

BLOOM:  (Detaches her fingers and offers his palm) More 

harm than good. Here. Read mine. 

BELLA: Show. (She turns up bloom’s hand) I thought so. 

Knobby knuckles for the women. 

ZOE: (Peering at bloom’s palm) Gridiron. Travels beyond 

the sea and marry money. 

BLOOM: Wrong. 

ZOE: (Quickly) O, I see. Short little finger. Henpecked 

husband. That wrong? 

(Black Liz, a huge rooster hatching in a chalked circle, rises, 

stretches her wings and clucks.) 

BLACK LIZ: Gara. Klook. Klook. Klook. 

(She sidles from her newlaid egg and waddles off) 

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