Zoe:  (Holds up her hand) Stop!

Private Carr, private Compton and Cissy Caffrey: 

    Yet I’ve a sort a
    Yorkshire relish for ...

Zoe:  That’s me. (She claps her hands) Dance!  Dance! (She runs to the
pianola) Who has twopence?

Bloom:  Who’ll ...?

Lynch:  (Handing her coins) Here.

Stephen:  (Cracking his fingers impatiently) Quick!  Quick!  Where’s my augur’s rod? (He runs to the piano and takes his ashplant, beating his foot in tripudium)

Zoe:  (Turns the DRUMHANDLE) There.

(She drops two pennies in the slot.  Gold, pink and violet lights start
forth.  The drum turns purring in low hesitation Waltz.  Professor Goodwin,
in A BOWKNOTTED periwig, in court dress, wearing A stained Inverness
cape, bent in two from incredible age, totters across the room, his hands
fluttering.  He sits tinily on the PIANOSTOOL and lifts and beats handless
sticks of arms on the keyboard, nodding with damsel’s grace, his bowknot
bobbing)

Zoe:  (Twirls round herself, HEELTAPPING) Dance.  Anybody here for there? 
Who’ll dance?  Clear the table.

(The pianola with changing lights plays in Waltz time the prelude of My
Girl’s a Yorkshire Girl.  Stephen throws his ashplant on the table and
seizes Zoe round the waist. Florry and Bella push the table towards the
fireplace.  Stephen, arming Zoe with exaggerated grace, begins to Waltz
her round the room.  Bloom stands aside.  Her sleeve filling from gracing
arms reveals A white FLESHFLOWER of vaccination.  Between the curtains
professor Maginni inserts A leg