Page 1033 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

My belief is, to tell you the candid truth, that those bits
were genuine forgeries all of them put in by monks most
probably or it’s the big question of our national poet over
again, who precisely wrote them like Hamlet and Bacon,

as, you who know your Shakespeare infinitely better than
I, of course I needn’t tell you. Can’t you drink that coffee,
by the way? Let me stir it. And take a piece of that bun.
It’s like one of our skipper’s bricks disguised. Still no-one
can give what he hasn’t got. Try a bit.
—Couldn’t, Stephen contrived to get out, his mental
organs for the moment refusing to dictate further.
Faultfinding being a proverbially bad hat Mr Bloom
thought well to stir or try to the clotted sugar from the
bottom and reflected with something approaching
acrimony on the Coffee Palace and its temperance (and
lucrative) work. To be sure it was a legitimate object and
beyond yea or nay did a world of good, shelters such as
the present one they were in run on teetotal lines for
vagrants at night, concerts, dramatic evenings and useful
lectures (admittance free) by qualified men for the lower
orders. On the other hand he had a distinct and painful
recollection they paid his wife, Madam Marion Tweedy
who had been prominently associated with it at one time,
a very modest remuneration indeed for her pianoplaying.

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