JOSEPH. (not ceasing to copy the manuscript) I wore it only figuratively—I am wearing it now. And it always makes you angry.
MADAM POTIPHAR. You mean the cloak of your insolence?
JOSEPH. I mean the cloak of my pride.
MADAM POTIPHAR. I can sympathize with your brothers. . . . Are you in love with her, Joseph?
JOSEPH. I am not.
He has finished—he rolls up the papyrus.
MADAM POTIPHAR. No—so I told her.
JOSEPH. But she didn't believe you.
MADAM POTIPHAR. You seem to know our conversation pretty well.
JOSEPH. I can imagine it.
MADAM POTIPHAR. Well, go ahead and imagine it. What did we say?