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STEPHEN: (Abruptly) What went forth to the ends of
the world to traverse not itself, God, the sun, Shakespeare, a
commercial traveller, having itself traversed in reality itself
becomes that self. Wait a moment. Wait a second. Damn
that fellow’s noise in the street. Self which it itself was in-
eluctably preconditioned to become. Ecco!
LYNCH: (With a mocking whinny of laughter grins at
Bloom and Zoe Higgins) What a learned speech, eh?
ZOE: (Briskly) God help your head, he knows more than
you have forgotten.
(With obese stupidity Florry Talbot regards Stephen.)
FLORRY: They say the last day is coming this summer.
KITTY: No!
ZOE: (Explodes in laughter) Great unjust God!
FLORRY: (Offended) Well, it was in the papers about An-
tichrist. O, my foot’s tickling.
(Ragged barefoot newsboys, jogging a wagtail kite, patter
past, yelling.)
THE NEWSBOYS: Stop press edition. Result of the rock-
inghorse races. Sea serpent in the royal canal. Safe arrival
of Antichrist.
(Stephen turns and sees Bloom.)
STEPHEN: A time, times and half a time.
(Reuben I Antichrist, wandering jew, a clutching hand
open on his spine, stumps forward. Across his loins is slung
a pilgrim’s wallet from which protrude promissory notes and
dishonoured bills. Aloft over his shoulder he bears a long
boatpole from the hook of which the sodden huddled mass of
his only son, saved from Liffey waters, hangs from the slack