Mine host bowed again as he made answer:

―What say you, good masters, to a squab pigeon pasty, some collops of venison, a saddle of veal, widgeon with crisp hog’s bacon, a boar’s head with pistachios, a bason of jolly custard, a medlar tansy and a flagon of old Rhenish?

―Gadzooks! cried the last speaker. That likes me well. Pistachios!

―Aha! cried he of the pleasant countenance. A poor house and a bare larder, quotha! ’Tis a merry rogue.

So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom.

―Where is he? says Lenehan. Defrauding widows and orphans.

―Isn’t that a fact, says John Wyse, what I was telling the citizen about Bloom and the Sinn Fein?

―That’s so, says Martin. Or so they allege.