Bella:  (Laughing) Omelette ...

The whores:  (Laughing) Encore!  Encore!

Stephen:  Mark me.  I dreamt of a watermelon.

Zoe:  Go abroad and love a foreign lady.

Lynch:  Across the world for a wife.

Florry:  Dreams goes by contraries.

Stephen:  (Extends his arms) It was here.  Street of harlots.  In Serpentine avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a fubsy widow.  Where’s the red carpet spread?

Bloom:  (Approaching Stephen) Look ...

Stephen:  No, I flew.  My foes beneath me.  And ever shall be.  World without end. (He cries) pater!  Free!

Bloom:  I say, look ...

Stephen:  Break my spirit, will he?  O MERDE alors! (He cries, his vulture
talons sharpened) Hola!  Hillyho!

(Simon Dedalus’ voice HILLOES in answer, somewhat sleepy but ready.)

Simon:  That’s all right. (He swoops uncertainly through the air, wheeling, uttering cries of heartening, on strong ponderous Buzzard wings) Ho, boy!  Are you going to win?  Hoop!  Pschatt!  Stable with those halfcastes.  Wouldn’t let them within the bawl of an ass.  Head up!  Keep our flag flying!  An eagle gules volant in a field argent displayed.  Ulster king at arms!  Haihoop! (He makes the beagle’s call, giving tongue) Bulbul!  Burblblburblbl!  Hai, boy!

(The fronds and spaces of the wallpaper file rapidly across country.  A
stout fox, drawn from Covert, brush pointed, having buried his
grandmother, runs swift for the open, brighteyed, seeking Badger earth,
under the leaves.  The pack of staghounds follows, nose to the ground,
sniffing their Quarry, BEAGLEBAYING, BURBLBRBLING to be blooded. Ward
union HUNTSMEN and HUNTSWOMEN live with them, hot for A kill.  From six
mile point, FLATHOUSE, nine mile stone follow the FOOTPEOPLE with knotty
sticks, HAYFORKS, SALMONGAFFS, LASSOS, FLOCKMASTERS with STOCKWHIPS,
BEARBAITERS with TOMTOMS, TOREADORS with BULLSWORDS, GREYNEGROES waving
torches.  The crowd bawls of Dicers, crown and anchor players,
thimbleriggers, BROADSMEN.  Crows and touts, hoarse bookies in high wizard
hats clamour deafeningly.)