BUBNOFF. Then why did you say it?
SATINE. Just so! I’m bored, brother, with human words—all our words. Bored! I’ve heard each one of them a thousand times surely.
THE ACTOR. In Hamlet they say: “Words, words, words!” It’s a good play. I played the grave-digger in it once. . . .
[Kleshtch comes from the kitchen.]
KLESHTCH. Will you start playing with the broom?
THE ACTOR. None of your business. [Striking his chest] Ophelia! O—remember me in thy prayers!
[Back stage is heard a dull murmur, cries, and a police whistle. Kleshtch sits down to work, filing screechily.]
SATINE. I love unintelligible, obsolete words. When I was a youngster—and worked as a telegraph operator—I read heaps of books. . . .
BUBNOFF. Were you really a telegrapher?