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.

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.

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.