Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com
horseplay with Moll the romp to find the buck flea in her
breeches they will deface the little statue you carried home
in the rain for art for art’ sake. They will violate the secrets
of your bottom drawer. Pages will be torn from your hand-
book of astronomy to make them pipespills. And they will
spit in your ten shilling brass fender from Hampton Lee-
dom’s.
BLOOM: Ten and six. The act of low scoundrels. Let me
go. I will return. I will prove ...
A VOICE: Swear!
(Bloom clenches his fists and crawls forward, a bowieknife
between his teeth.)
BELLO: As a paying guest or a kept man? Too late. You
have made your secondbest bed and others must lie in it.
Your epitaph is written. You are down and out and don’t
you forget it, old bean.
BLOOM: Justice! All Ireland versus one! Has nobody ...?
(He bites his thumb)
BELLO: Die and be damned to you if you have any sense
of decency or grace about you. I can give you a rare old wine
that’ll send you skipping to hell and back. Sign a will and
leave us any coin you have! If you have none see you damn
well get it, steal it, rob it! We’ll bury you in our shrubbery
jakes where you’ll be dead and dirty with old Cuck Cohen,
my stepnephew I married, the bloody old gouty procurator
and sodomite with a crick in his neck, and my other ten or
eleven husbands, whatever the buggers’ names were, suffo-
cated in the one cesspool. (He explodes in a loud phlegmy
laugh) We’ll manure you, Mr Flower! (He pipes scoffingly)