Henderson: What's a hermit doing with four beds?
Otis B. Driftwood: Well, you see those first three beds?
Henderson: Yes.
Otis B. Driftwood: Last night, I counted five thousand sheep in those three beds, so I had to have another bed to sleep in. You wouldn't want me to sleep with the sheep, would you?
Engineer's Assistant: I'm the engineer's assistant.
Otis B. Driftwood: You know I had a premonition you were going to show up. The engineer's right there in the corner. You can chop your way right through.
Mrs. Claypool: Are you sure you have everything, Otis?
Otis B. Driftwood: Well, I haven't had any complaints yet.
Henderson: You live here all alone?
Otis B. Driftwood: Yes. Just me and my memories. I'm practically a hermit.
Henderson: Oh. A hermit. I notice the table's set for four.
Otis B. Driftwood: That's nothing - my alarm clock is set for eight. That doesn't prove a thing.
Henderson: The last time I was in this room there were four beds here.
Otis B. Driftwood: Please! I'm not interested in your private life, Henderson.
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: You didn't happen to see my suit in there, did you?
Fiorello: Yeah, it was taking up too much room, so we sold it.
Otis B. Driftwood: Did you get anything for it?
Fiorello: Uh... dollar forty.
Otis B. Driftwood: That's my suit all right.
Otis B. Driftwood: Do they allow tipping on the boat?
Steward: Yes, sir.
Otis B. Driftwood: Have you got two fives?
Steward: Yes, sir.
Otis B. Driftwood: Well, then you won't need the ten cents I was gonna give you.
Otis B. Driftwood: Could he sail tomorrow?
Fiorello: You pay him enough money, he could sail yesterday.
Lassparri: Never in my life have I received such treatment. They threw an apple at me.
Otis B. Driftwood: Well, watermelons are out of season.
Otis B. Driftwood: That's the fire escape. And, uh... that's a table, and this is a room, and there's the door leading out, and I wish you'd use it, I... I vant to be alone.
Henderson: You'll be alone when I throw you in jail.
Otis B. Driftwood: Isn't there a song like that, Henderson?
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.
