TONY
I like you. Sing me that song of yours. I'll listen.
SPERANSKY
With your permission, Anthony. (Sings in an undertone, almost in a whisper, a dismal, long-drawn-out tune somewhat resembling a litany)
Life's a sham, 'tis false, untrue,
Death alone is true, aye, true.
(With increasing caution and pedantry, shaking his finger as if imparting a secret)
All things tumble, vanish, break,
Death is sure to overtake
Outcast, tramp, and tiniest fly
Unperceived by naked eye.
TONY
What?