Ulysses
ZOE: Yes. Walk on him! I will.
FLORRY: I will. Don’t be greedy.
KITTY: No, me. Lend him to me.
(The brothel cook, mrs keogh, wrinkled, greybearded,
in a greasy bib, men’s grey and green socks and brogues,
floursmeared, a rollingpin stuck with raw pastry in her bare
red arm and hand, appears at the door.)
MRS KEOGH: (Ferociously) Can I help? (They hold and
pinion Bloom.)
BELLO: (Squats with a grunt on Bloom’s upturned face,
puffing cigarsmoke, nursing a fat leg) I see Keating Clay is
elected vicechairman of the Richmond asylum and by the
by Guinness’s preference shares are at sixteen three quaf-
fers. Curse me for a fool that didn’t buy that lot Craig and
Gardner told me about. Just my infernal luck, curse it. And
that Goddamned outsider Throwaway at twenty to one. (He
quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom’s ear) Where’s that God-
damned cursed ashtray?
BLOOM: (Goaded, buttocksmothered) O! O! Monsters!
Cruel one!
BELLO: Ask for that every ten minutes. Beg. Pray for it as
you never prayed before. (He thrusts out a figged fist and foul
cigar) Here, kiss that. Both. Kiss. (He throws a leg astride
and, pressing with horseman’s knees, calls in a hard voice)
Gee up! A cockhorse to Banbury cross. I’ll ride him for the
Eclipse stakes. (He bends sideways and squeezes his mount’s
testicles roughly, shouting) Ho! Off we pop! I’ll nurse you
in proper fashion. (He horserides cockhorse, leaping in the
saddle) The lady goes a pace a pace and the coachman goes