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a trot a trot and the gentleman goes a gallop a gallop a gal-
lop a gallop.
FLORRY: (Pulls at Bello) Let me on him now. You had
enough. I asked before you.
ZOE: (Pulling at florry) Me. Me. Are you not finished
with him yet, suckeress?
BLOOM: (Stifling) Can’t.
BELLO: Well, I’m not. Wait. (He holds in his breath)
Curse it. Here. This bung’s about burst. (He uncorks himself
behind: then, contorting his features, farts loudly) Take that!
(He recorks himself) Yes, by Jingo, sixteen three quarters.
BLOOM: (A sweat breaking out over him) Not man. (He
sniffs) Woman.
BELLO: (Stands up) No more blow hot and cold. What
you longed for has come to pass. Henceforth you are un-
manned and mine in earnest, a thing under the yoke. Now
for your punishment frock. You will shed your male gar-
ments, you understand, Ruby Cohen? and don the shot silk
luxuriously rustling over head and shoulders. And quickly
too!
BLOOM: (Shrinks) Silk, mistress said! O crinkly! scrapy!
Must I tiptouch it with my nails?
BELLO: (Points to his whores) As they are now so will
you be, wigged, singed, perfumesprayed, ricepowdered,
with smoothshaven armpits. Tape measurements will be
taken next your skin. You will be laced with cruel force into
vicelike corsets of soft dove coutille with whalebone busk
to the diamondtrimmed pelvis, the absolute outside edge,
while your figure, plumper than when at large, will be re-