artifoni
Ci rifletta. Lei rovina tutto.
florry
Sing us something. Love’s old sweet song.
stephen
No voice. I am a most finished artist. Lynch, did I show you the letter about the lute?
florry
(Smirking.) The bird that can sing and won’t sing.
philip sober
Take a fool’s advice. All is not well. Work it out with the buttend of a pencil, like a good young idiot. Three pounds twelve you got, two notes, one sovereign, two crowns, if youth but knew. Mooney’s en ville, Mooney’s sur mer, the Moira, Larchet’s, Holles street hospital, Burke’s. Eh? I am watching you.
philip drunk
(Impatiently.) Ah, bosh, man. Go to hell! I paid my way. If I could only find out about octaves. Reduplication of personality. Who was it told me his name? (His lawnmower begins to purr.) Aha, yes. Zoe mou sas agapo. Have a notion I was here before. When was it not Atkinson his card I have somewhere. Mac somebody. Unmack I have it. He told me about, hold on, Swinburne, was it, no?
florry
And the song?
stephen
Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.
florry
Are you out of Maynooth? You’re like someone I knew once.
