Mrs. Claypool: Are you sure you have everything, Otis?
Otis B. Driftwood: Well, I haven't had any complaints yet.
Otis B. Driftwood: Signor Lassparri comes from a very famous family. His mother was a well-known bass singer. His father was the first man to stuff spaghetti with bicarbonate of soda, thus causing and curing indigestion at the same time.
Fiorello: Ricardo, how do you feel?
Ricardo: After a meal like that great. I could sing my head off. Cosi-Cosa. It's a wonderful word tra-la-la-la.
Otis B. Driftwood: Well, that's fine. If that steward's deaf and dumb, he'll never know you're in here.
Mrs. Claypool: Get off that bed. What would people say?
Otis B. Driftwood: They'd probably say you're a very lucky woman.
Lassparri: What do you mean by humiliating me in front of all of those people? You're fired! Do you understand? You're fired.
Otis B. Driftwood: Hey, you big bully. What's the idea of hitting that little bully?
Lassparri: Will you kindly let me handle my own affairs? Get out.
Otis B. Driftwood: I am sure the familiar strains of Verdi's music will come back to you tonight, and Mrs. Claypool's cheques will probably come back to her in the morning.
Otis B. Driftwood: It's none of my business, but I think there's a brace of woodpeckers in the orchestra.
Henderson: Say! Now, how did those two beds get together?
Otis B. Driftwood: Well, you know how those things are, they breed like rabbits.
Manicurist: Did you want your nails long or short?
Otis B. Driftwood: Better make them short. It's getting pretty crowded in here.
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