Clytie. What’s that?
Felix. A poem—the beginning.
Clytie. And how does it go on?
Felix. I’ll bring you the end in a minute. But I outgrow my work so quickly that when I reach the end I may have to alter the beginning.
Clytie. (In disgust) Bah! (To Otto) Now then, can’t you leave your moustache alone?
Otto. Love me, Clytie.
Clytie. Visitors are requested not to touch.
Otto. Love me, Clytie.
Clytie. Otto, you’re so irresistibly handsome.
Otto. I love you madly.