Ulysses by James Joyce Chapter 12 Page 151

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No, says Martin, we’re ready.

Courthouse my eye and your pockets hanging down with gold and silver. Mean bloody scut. Stand us a drink itself. Devil a sweet fear! There’s a jew for you! All for number one. Cute as a shithouse rat. Hundred to five.

Don’t tell anyone, says the citizen.

Beg your pardon, says he.

Come on boys, says Martin, seeing it was looking blue.

Come along now.

Don’t tell anyone, says the citizen, letting a bawl out of him. It’s a secret.

And the bloody dog woke up and let a growl.

Bye bye all, says Martin.