When I swear an oath or anger takes me, I suffer a hunger that burns like fire. Right now I feel pregnant with rabid desire. There's nothing in the house fit to carve. Tomorrow I'll cook you something fine. I'm good at making sweets.
Nothing's as good as a well-cleaned tripe served with parsley.
Why mine's the cleanest and tastiest of all. Now that we've agreed on what we want, let's have some in the morning. I'll make some tripe. Hernando, my servant, talking to Fenisa. Someone's here, he says, and so good-bye.