BLOOM: Not to lace the wrong eyelet as I did the night of the bazaar dance. Bad luck. Hook in wrong tache of her... person you mentioned. That night she met... Now!
(He knots the lace. Bella places her foot on the floor. Bloom raises his head. Her heavy face, her eyes strike him in midbrow. His eyes grow dull, darker and pouched, his nose thickens.)
BLOOM: (Mumbles) Awaiting your further orders we remain, gentlemen,...
BELLO: (With a hard basilisk stare, in a baritone voice) Hound of dishonour!
BLOOM: (Infatuated) Empress!
BELLO: (His heavy cheekchops sagging) Adorer of the adulterous rump!
BLOOM: (Plaintively) Hugeness!
BELLO: Dungdevourer!
BLOOM: (With sinews semiflexed) Magmagnificence!
BELLO: Down! (He taps her on the shoulder with his fan) Incline feet forward! Slide left foo
