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. Knobbly 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)

BLOOM: (Points to his hand) That weal there is an accident. Fell and cut it twenty-two years ago. I was sixteen.

ZOE: I see, says the blind man. Tell us news.

STEPHEN: See? Moves to one great goal. I am twentytwo too. Sixteen years ago I twentytwo tumbled, twentytwo years ago he sixteen fell off his hobbyhorse (he winces) Hurt my hand somewhere. Must see a dentist. Money?

(Zoe whispers to Florry. They giggle. Bloom releases his hand and writes idly on the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves.)