Page:Ulysses, 1922.djvu/557

554 ''cap with hackle plume and accoutrements, with epaulette, gilt chevrons and sabretache, his breast bright with medals, toes the line. He gives the pilgrim warrior’s sign of the knights templars.'')

(Growls gruffly.) Rorke’s Drift! Up, guards, and at them! Mahal shalal hashbaz.

I’ll do him in.

(Waves the crowd back.) Fair play, here. Make a bleeding butcher’s shop of the bugger.

They’re going to fight. For me!

The brave and the fair.

Methinks yon sable knight will joust it with the best.

(Blushing deeply.) Nay, Madam. The gules doublet and merry Saint George for me!

(Loosening his belt, shouts.) I’ll wring the neck of any fucking bastard says a word against my bleeding fucking king.

(Shakes Cissy Caffrey’s shoulders.) Speak, you! Are you struck dumb? You