“—Don’t carry it like that, Mr Deasy said. You’ll pull it
out somewhere and lose it. You just buy one of these
machines. You’ll find them very handy.
—Mine would be often empty, Stephen said.
The same room and hour, the same wisdom: and I the
same. Three times now. Three nooses round me here.
Well? I can break them in this instant if I will.
—Because you don’t save, Mr Deasy said, pointing his
finger. You don’t know yet what money is. Money is
power. When you have lived as long as I have. I know, I
know. If youth but knew. But what does Shakespeare say?
Put but money in thy purse.
—Iago, Stephen murmured.
He lifted his gaze from the idle shells to the old man’s
—He knew what money was, Mr Deasy said. He made
money. A poet, yes, but an Englishman too. Do you
know what is the pride of the English? Do you know
what is the proudest word you will ever hear from an
The seas’ ruler. His seacold eyes looked on the empty
bay: it seems history is to blame: on me and on my words,
—That on his empire, Stephen said, the sun never sets.
—Ba! Mr Deasy cried. That’s not English. A French
Celt said that. He tapped his savingsbox against his
—I will tell you, he said solemnly, what is his proudest
boast. I paid my way.”
Mr. Deasy expounds on the power of money; Frank digresses.