the
long straight seam trailing up beyond the knee, appeal to the better
instincts of the _blase_ man about town. Learn the smooth mincing walk
on four inch Louis Quinze heels, the Grecian bend with provoking croup,
the thighs fluescent, knees modestly kissing. Bring all your powers of
fascination to bear on them. Pander to their Gomorrahan vices.

BLOOM: _(Bends his blushing face into his armpit and simpers with
forefinger in mouth)_ O, I know what you're hinting at now!

BELLO: What else are you good for, an impotent thing like you? _(He
stoops and, peering, pokes with his fan rudely under the fat suet folds
of Bloom's haunches)_ Up! Up! Manx cat! What have we here? Where's your
curly teapot gone to or who docked it on you, cockyolly? Sing, birdy,
sing. It's as limp as a boy of six's doing his pooly behind a cart. Buy
a bucket or sell your pump. _(Loudly)_ Can you do a man's job?

BLOOM: Eccles street...

BELLO: _(Sarcastically)_ I wouldn't hurt your feelings for the world but
there's a man of brawn in possession there. The tables are turned, my
gay young fellow! He is something like a fullgrown outdoor man. Well for
you, you muff, if you had that weapon with knobs and lumps and warts all
over it. He shot his bolt, I can tell you! Foot to foot, knee to knee,
belly to belly, bubs to breast! He's no eunuch. A shock of red hair he
has sticking out of him behind like a furzebush! Wait for nine months,
my lad! Holy ginger, it's kicking and coughing up and down in her guts
already! That makes you wild, don't it? Touches the spot? _(He spits in
contempt)_ Spittoon!

BLOOM: I was indecently treated, I... Inform the police. Hundred
pounds. Unmentionable. I...

BELLO: Would if you could, lame duck. A downpour we want not your
drizzle.

BLOOM: To drive me mad! Moll! I forgot! Forgive! Moll... We... Still...

BELLO: _(Ruthlessly)_ No, Leopold Bloom, all is changed by woman's will
since you slept horizontal in Sleepy Hollow your night of twenty years.
Return and see.

_(Old Sleepy Hollow calls over the wold.)_

SLEEPY HOLLOW: Rip van Wink! Rip van Winkle!

BLOOM: _(In tattered mocassins with a rusty fowlingpiece, tiptoeing,
fingertipping, his haggard bony bearded face peering through the diamond
panes, cries out)_ I see her! It's she! The first night at Mat Dillon's!
But that dress, the green! And her hair is dyed gold and he...

BELLO: _(Laughs mockingly)_ That's your daughter, you owl, with a
Mullingar student.