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.
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.
Henderson: Say! Now, how did those two beds get together?
Otis B. Driftwood: Well, you know how those things are, they breed like rabbits.
Otis B. Driftwood: You know the old saying. Two's company, five's a crowd.
Otis B. Driftwood: You see that spaghetti? Now, behind that spaghetti is none other than Herman Gottlieb, director of the New York Opera Company. Do you follow me?
Mrs. Claypool: Yes.
Otis B. Driftwood: Well stop following me or I'll have you arrested.
Otis B. Driftwood: Was that a high C, or Vitamin D?
Otis B. Driftwood: Ladies and gentlemen... I guess that takes in most of you.
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.
