car and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady.  I have it still.  It represents a partially nude senorita, frail and lovely (his wife, as he solemnly assured me, taken by him from nature), practising illicit intercourse with a muscular torero, evidently a blackguard.  He urged me to do likewise, to misbehave, to sin with officers of the garrison.  He implored me to soil his letter in an unspeakable manner, to chastise him as he richly deserves, to bestride and ride him, to give him a most vicious horsewhipping.

Mrs Bellingham:  Me too.

Mrs Yelverton Barry:  Me too.

(Several highly respectable Dublin ladies hold up improper letters
received from bloom.)

The honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys:  (Stamps her jingling spurs in A sudden paroxysm of fury) I will, by the God above me.  I’ll scourge the pigeonlivered cur as long as I can stand over him.  I’ll flay him alive.

Bloom:  (His eyes closing, Quails expectantly) Here? (He squirms) Again! 
(He pants cringing) I love the danger.

The honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys:  Very much so!  I’ll make it hot for you.  I’ll make you dance Jack Latten for that.

Mrs Bellingham:  Tan his breech well, the upstart!  Write the stars and stripes on it!

Mrs Yelverton Barry:  Disgraceful!  There’s no excuse for him!  A married man!

Bloom:  All these people.  I meant only the spanking idea.  A warm tingling glow without effusion.  Refined birching to stimulate the circulation.

The honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys:  (Laughs derisively) O, did you, my fine fellow?  Well, by the living God, you’ll get the surprise of your life now, believe me, the most unmerciful hiding a man ever bargained for.  You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into fury.

Mrs Bellingham:  (Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses vindictively) Make him smart, Hanna dear.  Give him ginger.  Thrash the mongrel within an inch of his life.  The cat-o’-nine-tails.  Geld him.  Vivisect him.

Bloom:  (Shuddering, shrinking, joins his hands:  With hangdog mien) O cold!  O shivery!  It was your ambrosial beauty.  Forget, forgive.  Kismet.  Let me off this once. (He offers the other cheek)

Mrs Yelverton Barry:  (Severely) Don’t do so on any account, Mrs Talboys!  He should be soundly trounced!