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!