BLOOM: (FAINTING) Don't tear my ...
BELLO: (SAVAGELY) The nosering, the pliers, the bastinado, the hanging
hook, the knout I'll make you kiss while the flutes play like the Nubian
slave of old. You're in for it this time! I'll make you remember me for
the balance of your natural life. (HIS FOREHEAD VEINS SWOLLEN, HIS FACE
CONGESTED) I shall sit on your ottoman saddleback every morning after my
thumping good breakfast of Matterson's fat hamrashers and a bottle of
Guinness's porter. (HE BELCHES) And suck my thumping good Stock Exchange
cigar while I read the LICENSED VICTUALLER'S GAZETTE. Very possibly I
shall have you slaughtered and skewered in my stables and enjoy a slice
of you with crisp crackling from the baking tin basted and baked like
sucking pig with rice and lemon or currant sauce. It will hurt you. (HE
TWISTS HER ARM. BLOOM SQUEALS, TURNING TURTLE.)
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