THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [breaking down] Oh, this is dreadful. No understanding, no intelligence, no sympathy—[his sobs choke him].
THE WOMAN. You see, you are ill.
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [nerved by indignation] I am not ill. I have never had a day's illness in my life.
THE WOMAN. May I advise you?
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. I have no need of a lady doctor, thank you, madam.
THE WOMAN [shaking her head] I am afraid I do not understand. I said nothing about a butterfly.
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Well, I said nothing about a butterfly.
THE WOMAN. You spoke of a lady doctor. The word is known here only as the name of a butterfly.
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [insanely] I give up. I can bear this no longer. It is easier to go out of my mind at once. [He rises and dances about, singing]
I'd be a butterfly, born in a bower,
Making apple dumplings without any flour.