not here.

BLOOM: _(Closing her eyes)_ She's not here.

FLORRY: _(Hiding her with her gown)_ She didn't mean it, Mr Bello.
She'll be good, sir.

KITTY: Don't be too hard on her, Mr Bello. Sure you won't, ma'amsir.

BELLO: _(Coaxingly)_ Come, ducky dear, I want a word with you, darling,
just to administer correction. Just a little heart to heart talk,
sweety. _(Bloom puts out her timid head)_ There's a good girly now.
_(Bello grabs her hair violently and drags her forward)_ I only want
to correct you for your own good on a soft safe spot. How's that tender
behind? O, ever so gently, pet. Begin to get ready.

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.)_

BLOOM: Don't be cruel, nurse! Don't!

BELLO: _(Twisting)_ Another!

BLOOM: _(Screams)_ O, it's hell itself! Every nerve in my body aches
like mad!

BELLO: _(Shouts)_ Good, by the rumping jumping general! That's the best
bit of news I heard these six weeks. Here, don't keep me waiting, damn
you! _(He slaps her face)_

BLOOM: _(Whimpers)_ You're after hitting me. I'll tell...

BELLO: Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him.

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
v