Limelight Page #4

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- Why not?|- A worm can't smile.

Did you ever appeal|to its sense of humor?

- Of course not.|- Well then!

But it doesn't make sense.

Why should poetry|have to make sense?

Don't you know there's such a thing|as poetic license?

I've given you no license.

Oh no, don't!

This thing is so much bigger|than ourselves!

At this moment|I'm grasping the meaning of life.

What a waste of energy.

What is this urge|that makes life go on and on?

You're right.|What does it all mean?

Where are we going?

You're going south.|Your hand's in my pocket.

Naughty.

- How did it get there?|- Pure magnetism, old dear.

Why are you antagonistic|towards me?

Must we be serious?

You make it difficult to know you.

Read my memoirs|in the Police Gazette.

- You're a funny man.|- Why?

To talk about worms|the way you do.

Why not? Even flies are romantic.

- Flies?|- Oh yes.

Coming from the stable|to the table,

chasing each other over the sugar|and meeting in the butter.

- You've read "The Life of the Bee"?|- No, I haven't.

The bee's behavior in the beehive|is unbelievable.

Really?

- Gezundheit!|- It certainly does.

- I beg your pardon?|- The dress. It goes on tight.

You're awful dusty tonight, my dear.|Turn around.

Where do they keep you?|On the top shelf or something?

Fuller's earth? Johnson's powder?|I know! Cornstarch.

Just think!|All life motivated by love.

How beautiful.

- By no means beautiful.|- It certainly is.

No, it's vile, wicked, awful!|But wonderful.

- I like you.|- Really?

You're sensitive. You feel things.

Don't encourage me.

It's true. So few people|have the capacity to feel.

Or the opportunity.

Allow me.

Use it only for what you wish.

Come in.

Good morning. How do you feel?

- Better, thank you.|- Good.

What a day!

The sun's shining, the kettle's|singing, and we've paid the rent.

There'll be an earthquake,|I know it.

What would you like for breakfast?

We have eggs, bacon,|cheese, spring onions...

That's broken my dream!

I dreamt we did an act together,|all about Spring.

Interesting.

I get lots of ideas in my dreams,|then I wake up and forget them.

You know, I've been dreaming a lot|about the theater lately.

Doing my old acts all over again.

Kippers. Aren't they superb!

What's wrong?

It's my legs! I tried to get up|this morning and I collapsed.

I can't even stand.

You got up too soon.

No, it's not that.|I have no feeling in them.

They're paralyzed. I know it!

Don't upset yourself.|After breakfast we'll call the doctor.

I'd better go to a hospital.

You know best,|but see what the doctor says first.

I can't stay here,|causing you all this trouble.

I'm not complaining.

You should, I'm such a bore.

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