Mrs. Alsop's out!
Mrs. Alsop's out!
- Did you turn off the gas?|- What gas?
- Which is her room?|- Er, this one.
We must move her.|Where's the landlady?
- Not home.|- Where's your room?
Two floors up.
Take her shoulders,|I'll take her feet.
Come on, Miss.
Pick up my bag.
Sorry,|you'll have to do that yourself.
Open the windows.|She needs lots of fresh air.
So do I.
- Shall I call an ambulance?|- No time.
She needs an emetic first.|Glass of water, please.
Here it is.
I need 2 quarts of warm water|and some towels.
Towels, coming up.
You found this bottle|clutched in her hand?
Certainly did, from your dispensary.
I see.|How long have you known this girl?
About five minutes.
She'll need looking after|for a couple of days.
- How about the ambulance?|- It isn't necessary now.
She's out of danger.
Besides, sending her to a hospital|would start an inquiry.
And attempted suicide means jail.
However, in a couple of days|she'll be fully recovered.
Meanwhile, let her rest quietly.
If she's thirsty|give her orange juice.
And tomorrow,|if she has an appetite
a little chicken broth,|but no tinned food.
Now, if you'll be at my dispensary|in ten minutes
I'll have a prescription for you.
- For me?|- No. For her, of course.
Where am I?
In my room.|I live two floors above you.
I came home this evening and|smelled gas coming from your room
so I broke in the door,|called a doctor,
and together we brought you here.
Why didn't you let me die?
What's your hurry?
Are you in pain?
That's all that matters.|The rest is fantasy.
Billions of years it's taken|to evolve human consciousness
and you want to wipe it out.
Wipe out the miracle|of all existence.
More important than anything|in the whole universe!
What can the stars do?
Nothing...|but sit on their axis!
And the sun,
shooting flames 280,000 miles high...
Wasting all its natural resources.
Can the sun think? Is it conscious?
No, but you are!
Pardon me, my mistake.
Here you are, and there you go!
Well, bless me. Heavens alive!
Look at that. Look at me door!
House breaking, that's what it is!
I suppose she's taken her things.|She'll go to jail for this.
I knew she was no good.
That quiet type.
Still waters that run deep|usually stink!
That's funny,|she hasn't taken a thing.
And she won't, either.
Not until she's paid 4 weeks rent.
Smashing in a door!
Nice festivities|going on behind my back!
Well, she's out now|and she'll stay out!
Mr. Calvero! Oh Mr. Calvero!
Is that you, Mr. Calvero?
Your laundry.|I was about to leave it on your bed.
Just a moment!
Hold it, hold it!
You dropped these.
And here's your oranges.
So this is|how she spends her evenings.
You take your hands off me!
What's she doing in your room?
The opposite of what you think.
I'd like to know|who smashed in the door downstairs.
- I did.|- You did!
You have a leaking gas pipe.
I have a what?
I mean that room|has a leaking gas pipe.
There's something fishy about this.
- Who is she anyway?|- You ought to know by now.
Came six weeks ago.|Said she was a working girl.
That's what they all say.|Why are you so interested?
The girl tried to kill herself.
Took poison, turned on the gas.|I came home just in time.
I'll call the police|and get an ambulance.
It'll be in all the papers.|You don't want that.
She's not staying where she is.
My good woman, I don't want her!|Let her go back to her room.
I should say not.|Besides, it's rented.
You can't throw her into the street!
She's not going back|to her own room.
Then she'll have to stay|where she is.
What? And scandalize my household!
We could be man and wife|for all anyone knows.
Oh, could you?|Well, you'd better not be.
You'd better get rid of her,|and quick.
Man and wife!
You watch out for that hussy.
She's no good. And she's been sick|since she came here.
It wouldn't be dandruff, would it?
I am an animal trainer
A circus entertainer
I train animals by the score|Lions, tigers and wild boar
I've made and lost a fortune|In my wild career
Some say the cause was women|Some say it was beer
Then I went through bankruptcy|And lost my whole menagerie
But I did not despair|I got a bright idea
While searching|through my underwear
A thought occurred to me
I'm tired of training elephants|So why not train a flea
Why should I hunt for animals|And through the jungle roam
When there's local talent|to be found right here at home
I found one but I won't say where
And educated him with care
And taught him|all the facts of life
And then he found himself a wife
I give them board and lodging free
And every night they dine off me
They don't eat caviar or cake
But they enjoy a good rump steak
Off my anatomy|Off my anatomy
It is an odd sensation
When after meals they take a stroll|Around the old plantation
Now I'm as happy as can be
I've taught them lots of tricks|you see
And now they're both supporting me|They're both supporting me
So walk up, walk up|I've the greatest show on earth
Walk up, walk up|And get your money's worth
See Phyllis and Henry|Those educated fleas
Cavorting and sporting|On the flying trapeze
So any time you itch|Don't scratch or make a fuss
You never can tell you might destroy|Some budding genius
Phyllis! Henry! Stop that!
What do you think you're doing?
You ought to be ashamed|of yourselves, fighting like that!
Alright. Phyllis, stay in the box!|Henry!
You should have done that|before I opened the box.
Do you hear? Come on!
Do you want me to squeeze?
Stop that now!
Come up from there!
Phyllis, you hear?|Remember you're on a diet.
Phyllis, have you gone mad?
Stop that, do you hear? Stop it!
Phyllis, do you hear?|Come up at once! You go too far!
Phyllis, what are you doing?
Crazy little creature!
Phyllis, Henry wants you.
Phyllis, stop that.
Phyllis, come out here!|Come out!
Where do you think you're going?|You nitwit!
Phyllis! Stop that now!
Do you want me to scratch?
That's not Phyllis.
Oh, there she is!
Are you awake?
Your husband said to look in on you.
- Who?|- Your husband.
He said to warm up|some chicken soup for you.
Let me help you. Come on.
You haven't eaten a thing all day.
A nice warm soup will do you good.
Thank you, no.
Your wife won't eat.
Well, that's a blessing|to a poor married man.
How do you feel?
Much better, thank you.
Pay no attention|to this wife business.
It's a front of respectability|for the new housemaid.
However, as soon as you get well|you'll be free and divorced.
I think I'm well enough now.
Not quite. I think|you'd better stay another day or so.
You're very kind.
I think I'm able to get back|to my room now.
I'm afraid that isn't possible.
Mrs. Alsop's rented it.|The people are moving in today.
Oh, I see.
However you're welcome to stay here|until you know what you want to do.
What can I do? I'm helpless.
Why didn't you let me die|and get it over with!
That's no way to talk. You're alive|and you better make the most of it.
I'm destitute. Ill.
I don't know what's wrong with you,
but if you're ill,|and if it's what Mrs. Alsop thinks,
you should do something about it.|It isn't hopeless.
If it's, uh...
You know what I'm talking about.
I don't think I do.
Well, let me put it this way.
A young girl, alone,|thrown into the world, gets ill.
If it's anything like that,|you can be cured.
There's a new drug performing|miracles, curing thousands.
If it's anything of that nature|don't be afraid to tell,
maybe I can help.
I'm an old sinner,|nothing shocks me.
It's nothing like that.
Are you sure?
But you have been ill?
Yes. I was five months|in the hospital with rheumatic fever.
Is that all?|Then what are you complaining about?
It's ruined my health.|I can't work.
What do you work at?
I was a dancer.
A member of the Empire ballet.
And I thought you were a...
So, you're a ballet dancer.
Pardon me, we haven't met formally.|What is your name?
Thereza Ambrose.|But I'm called Terry.
Charming. How do you do.|I'm also in the business.
My name is Calvero.|Perhaps you've heard of me.
You're not the great comedian?
I was.|However, we won't go into that.
Whatever brought you|to this state of affairs?
Ill health, mostly.
Then we'll have to get you well.
It isn't the ideal spot|for convalescing,
but you're welcome to it,
if you can put up with being|Mrs. Calvero. In name only!
It won't inconvenience you?
Not at all.|I've had five wives already.
One more or less|makes no difference.
Moreover, I've arrived at the age
where platonic friendship can be|sustained on the highest moral plane.
Now let me see, your mother was|a dressmaker and your father a lord?
The fourth son of a lord.|That's quite different.
How is it he married your mother?
She was|one of the family housemaids.
Sounds like a novelette.
- Did he have any money?|- No, the family cut him off.
So your sister's|the only one living?
Yes, and she's in South America.
Tell me, was it just ill health|that made you do what you did?
- That, and...|- And what?
The utter futility of everything.
I see it even in flowers,
hear it in music.
All life aimless,|without meaning.
What do you want a meaning for?
Life is a desire, not a meaning.
Desire is the theme of all life!
It makes a rose want to be a rose,|and want to grow like that.
And a rock want to contain itself|and remain like that.
What are you smiling about?
Your imitation|of a rose and a rock.
I can imitate anything.
Ever seen a Japanese tree?|They're lopsided, they grow this way.
Of course pansies grow this way.
The dark ones frown and go like that.
However, the meaning of anything
is merely other words|for the same thing.
After all, a rose is a rose.|Not bad, should be quoted.
Think how meaningless|life was a moment ago.
Now you have|a temporary husband and a home.
Here's your drinking water,|and in case of any emergencies,
the first door on the left,|the same on each floor.
Spring is here!
Birds are calling
Skunks are crawling
Wagging their tails for love
Spring is here!
Whales are churning
Worms are squirming
Wagging their tails for love
What is this thing|Of which I sing
That makes us all bewitched?
What is this thing|That comes in Spring
That gives us all the itch?
Oh, it's love
It's love,|It's love love love love
Pardon me,|but have you a fly swatter?
I beg your pardon.
If you beg around here,|I'll call the police.
I repeat, I beg your pardon.
I don't care what you've eaten.
I've eaten nothing.
Poor dear.|Here, get a sandwich.
- Sir, I demand an apology!|- I don't know you.
Who are your people?|Are you in the social register?
- My name happens to be Smith.|- Never heard of them.
That shows you're asinine.
I should have worn my overcoat.
You've interrupted me|in the middle of my sonnet.
In the middle of your what?
Not in the middle of my what,|the middle of my sonnet.
My ode to a worm.
Oh worm, why do you turn|into the earth from me?
'Tis Spring! Oh worm!
Lift up your head
whichever end that be|and smile at the sun
untwine your naked form|and with your tail, fling!
High the dirt in ecstasy!
'Tis Spring! 'Tis Spring!|'Tis Spring!
Ridiculous!|A worm smiling at the sun!
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
Use it only for what you wish.
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.
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!
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.
But it's not my fault.|You would save my life.
Well, we all make mistakes!
You should be. A young girl like you|wanting to throw your life away.
When you're my age,|you'll want to hang on to it.
Well, at this stage of the game|life gets to be a habit.
A hopeless one.
Then live without hope.|Live for the moment.
There are still, there are still...
There are still wonderful moments.
But if you've lost your health!
My dear, I was given up for dead|six months ago, but I fought back.
That's what you must do.
I'm tired of fighting.
Because you're fighting yourself.|You won't give yourself a chance.
But the fight for happiness|is beautiful.
- There is such a thing.|- Where?
Listen, as a child I used to complain|to my father about not having toys
and he would say this|is the greatest toy ever created.
Here lies|the secret of all happiness.
To hear you talk, no one would|ever think you were a comedian.
I'm beginning to realize that.|It's the reason I can't get a job.
Because they have no imagination.
Or think because I'm getting|on in years I'm old, all washed up.
Never! After hearing you talk.
Perhaps I drank too much.
There's usually a reason|for drinking.
Unhappiness, I suppose.
No, I'm used to that.
It was more complicated.
As a man gets on in years|he wants to live deeply.
A feeling of sad dignity comes upon|him, and that's fatal for a comic.
It affected my work.
I lost contact with the audience,|couldn't warm up to them.
And that's what started me drinking.
I had to have it before I went on.
It got so I couldn't be funny|without it. The more I drank...
It became a vicious circle.
A heart attack. I almost died.
And you're still drinking?
Occasionally, if I think of things.
The wrong things I suppose,|as you do.
What would you like|for your breakfast?
What a sad business, being funny.
Very sad if they won't laugh.
But it's a thrill when they do.
To look out there|and see them all laughing,
to hear that roar go up,|waves of laughter coming at you.
Let's talk of something|more cheerful.
Besides I want to forget the public.
Never. You love them too much.
Maybe I love them,|but I don't admire them.
I think you do.
As individuals, yes.|There's greatness in everyone.
But as a crowd, they're like|a monster without a head
that never knows which way|it's going to turn.
It can be prodded in any direction.
I keep forgetting about breakfast.|How about some poached eggs?
- A telegram.|- Oh, thank you.
Are you all right?
This is what I've been waiting for.
Redfern, my agent, wants to see me.
You're right.|This is the turning point.
Those managers have been holding|out on me, breaking my morale.
But now they want me!
And now I'll make them pay!|For their contempt and indifference.
No, I'll be gracious.
That'll be more dignified,|put them in their place.
I'm to be at Redfern's office|at three.
I'll call the doctor|and tell him about your legs.
But I forgot your breakfast!
How about some nice kippers?
Nothing for you, or you, or you...
Nothing for you.
- Anyone waiting?|- Miss Parker.
Yes, Calvero.|He's been here since three.
I forgot all about him.|Show him in.
Good afternoon, Calvero.|Sit down.
Sorry about yesterday. I was held up|over some important business.
However, I've good news for you.
I can get you a week|at Middlesex Music Hall.
At what terms?
I don't know yet,|but I wouldn't bother about that.
No bother at all.
However, if money's no object,
- what billing am I to get?|- I wouldn't bother about that either.
I'm not to get star billing|at Middlesex?
I'm not sure|we can book you there.
You think I'd allow those managers|to throw in my name
with a lot of nondescripts|just to build up their reputation!
Calvero's still a name|to conjure with!
You're mistaken.|Today it means nothing.
Then why do they want me?
They don't want you.|They're doing me a favor.
Very kind of them.|I hope you appreciate the fact.
I'm going to be perfectly frank|with you.
I've been talking Calvero|to them for over six months.
Your name is poison.|They don't want to touch you.
They couldn't if they tried.
I'm sorry, but you must|be made to realize the facts.
You're succeeding splendidly.
I'm trying to help, that's all.|But you must cooperate.
Whatever you say, I'll do.
That's the spirit.
As soon as the contract's confirmed,|I'll let you know.
However, cheer up.
If my name is poison to them,|I won't use it.
- I'll go by another name.|- I think that's a splendid idea.
Well doctor, how is our patient?
The condition is cleared up, but|I find nothing wrong with her legs.
Didn't she tell you|she's had rheumatic fever?
Yes, but I don't think she has.
The heart would have been affected|and it's perfectly sound.
I believe it's a case|of psycho-anesthesia.
A form of hysteria that has|the characteristics of paralysis
without being so.
How do you account for it?
In her case, I'd say|it's psychological, self-imposed.
Having failed at suicide,|she's decided to become a cripple.
Is there any way I can help?
Primarily she must help herself.|It's a case for a psychologist.
Well, I'll see what I can do.
- Good day, Doctor.|- Good day.
Tell me more|about your sister Louise.
There's nothing more to tell.
When she couldn't find work|she was driven to the street.
How old were you|when you discovered this?
Tell me about it.
It was after my mother died.|I loved Louise.
She was everything to me,|supported me, had me taught dancing.
Then one day I realized|what she was doing.
I was coming home from dancing|with the other girls
and I saw her, and the other girls|saw her, walking the street.
What did you do?
I just ran and wept.
Ran and wept.
Then what happened?
I tried to forget.
I was sent to boarding school. At 16,|I left and joined the Empire Ballet.
Louise went to South America.|I haven't heard from her since.
Up to that time,|you had no trouble with your legs?
When did it start?
About two years later.|After Melise joined the ballet.
One of the girls|from the dancing school.
One who was with you|when you found out about Louise?
Mr. Freud would say|that since meeting this girl again,
you don't want to dance.
You've associated it|with the unhappy life of your sister
who paid for your lessons|through a life of shame.
You've been ashamed to dance|ever since.
I'd despise myself|if I thought that.
That's the trouble, you do.
That's the trouble with the world.|We all despise ourselves.
We're all grubbing for a living,|the best of us.
All a part of the human crusade,
written in water.
But enough of that.
Ever been in love?
No, not really.
I think it was more|a feeling of pity.
The plot thickens.|Tell me about it.
It's a ridiculous story.|I hardly knew the man.
It was something I built up|in my own mind.
It was after I came out|of the hospital.
I took a job|at Sardou's stationary shop.
He was one of the customers,|a young American.
He used to buy music paper
in large and small amounts,|according to his finances.
He seemed so lonely,|so helpless and shy.
There was something pathetic|about him.
I wouldn't have noticed him,|but someone tried to elbow in.
When I ignored the other man,|he smiled in gratitude.
The old charwoman who worked where|he lived told me he was Mr. Neville,
a composer,|and that he occupied the top room.
There were days I knew he went|without food to buy music paper.
I could see it in his eyes.
The haggard look.
Sometimes I'd throw in|a few extra sheets.
Once I gave him more|than his proper change,
which he might have noticed,|but I wasn't sure.
Often after work I'd stroll by his|house and hear him playing piano,
repeating musical passages|over and over again.
And I'd stand listening,|excited and melancholy.
Well, what then?
Then for weeks I never saw him.
The charwoman told me he was ill.|Creditors had taken his piano.
Eventually he came into the shop|looking very pale
and asked for two shillings worth|of large orchestral sheets,
placing a two shilling piece|on the counter.
I knew it was his last.
If I could only help him!|If I only dared!
I could lend him money.|I wanted to tell him so.
But I was also shy.
Nevertheless|I was determined to help.
I gave him some extra sheets|and as he was about leave
I called him back:
You've forgotten your change.
There must be a mistake, he said.
Not at all, I answered.
You gave me half a crown,|here's sixpence change.
Then I realized I had created|a ridiculous situation.
To make matters worse|in came Mr. Sardou:
Can I be of any assistance?
It isn't necessary, I said quickly.
The gentleman gave me half a crown|and forgot his change.
However,|Mr. Sardou made him take it.
But as soon as he left|Mr. Sardou went through the till
and finding no half crown there,|became suspicious.
The discrepancy was discovered|and I was discharged.
What did you do then?
I tried to get back to dancing,|then I collapsed with rheumatic fever.
Did you ever see|this young composer again?
Yes, five months later.|After I came out of the hospital.
I saw him from the gallery|of the Albert Hall.
His symphony was played there.|It was a great success.
Of course you're in love with him.
I don't even know him.
You will.|Life is a local affair.
I can see it happening.
You'll be at the height|of your success and he'll call on you,
and tell you he met you|at some super party.
Won't I recognize him?
Oh no. He's grown a beard.|Musicians do.
He'll tell you|he's composed a ballet for you.
And you'll realize who he is,|you'll tell him who you are
and how you met,|and how you waited on him.
And gave him extra music sheets.
And that night you'll dine together
on a balcony|overlooking the Thames.
It'll be summer.
And you'll be wearing|pink mousseline.
And he'll be conscious|of its fragrance.
And all London|will be dreamy and beautiful.
And in the elegant melancholy|of twilight,
as the candles flutter|and make your eyes dance,
he will tell you he loves you.
And you will tell him|you have always loved him.
Where am I?
Yes, life can be wonderful|if you're not afraid of it.
All it needs is courage, imagination
and a little dough.
Now what's the matter?
I'll never dance again!|I'm a cripple.
- Pure hysteria! It's in your mind.|- It isn't true.
- Otherwise you'd fight!|- What is there to fight for?
Ah, you see? You admit it.
What is there to fight for?|Everything!
Life itself! Isn't that enough?
To be lived, suffered, enjoyed!|What is there to fight for?
Life is a beautiful,|magnificent thing.
Even to a jellyfish.
What is there to fight for?|You have your art, your dancing!
But I can't dance without legs!
I know a man without arms
who can play a scherzo on a violin|and does it all with his toes.
The trouble is you won't fight.|You've given in.
Continually dwelling|on sickness and death!
there's something|just as inevitable as death
and that's life.|Life, life, life!
Think of the power|that's in the universe!
Moving the earth, growing the trees!
And that's the same power|within you.
If you'd only have courage|and the will to use it.
Faster, faster.|Come on, dance!
I fooled you that time.|Come on.
Take that away.|Come on!
What's the news?
Europe in a race for armaments.
A write-up about Mr. And|Mrs. Zanzig, the mind readers.
I played with them years ago.
They say they can transfer thoughts|to each other.
Then how is it done?
Not transference. I was with him once|when he sent his wife a telegram.
Just a half cup.
I'm sorry, I didn't intend...
Oh no, it's good exercise.
Look at you,|hopping around like a two year-old.
I think there's an improvement.
- But I get so nervous doing nothing.|- Nothing?
I welcome every new hole|in your socks.
Housework and cooking,|what more do you want?
Keep fighting, that's all.
That reminds me,|Mrs. Alsop's on the warpath again.
She wants to know how long|I'm going to stay.
Tell her to mind her own business!|We pay our rent.
Oh no, there's a month owing.
Since they postponed the Middlesex|opening, it's upset everything.
Don't worry.|I can handle the old girl.
All she needs|is a little pinch and a pat.
Don't you think|I should go to a hospital?
I do not.
You'd have one problem|off your hands.
After the Middlesex,|our problems are over.
You know, preaching and moralizing|to you has really affected me.
I'm beginning to believe it myself.
I haven't taken a drink|since I've known you.
And I'm not going to,|even on opening night.
You don't need it.
You're excruciatingly funny|without it.
- What's that?|- Maybe a letter from Redfern.
Just the man I want to see!
This is no joke. When are you|getting rid of that girl upstairs?
- Don't be jealous.|- Jealous!
What have you done to your hair?
Where are your spit curls?
Never mind all that!|You owe me four weeks' rent.
- Have I denied the fact?|- You'd better not.
Sybil, you really want to hurt me,|don't you? You little minx.
I get so full of nonsense|when I'm around you.
What about that girl upstairs?
Now, now. Be patient.
You'd better|get rid of her this week.
Bear with me. I know|it's been a trial for both of us.
Both of us!|Who are you kidding?
You wonderful|little plum pudding, you!
But we must behave ourselves.
That takes care of the rent.
- Was there any post?|- No. That was for Mrs. Alsop.
Oh for the life of a sardine|That is the life for me
Cavorting and spawning|every morning
Under the deep blue sea
To have no fear of a fisherman's net|Oh what fun to be gay and all wet
Oh for the life of a sardine|That is the life for me
I dreamt I was a sardine.
I dreamt it was lunchtime,|and I was, uh...
swimming along,|looking for a little bit of bait
and I found myself passing|a large bed of kelp.
And there on it, I mean in it,
was the prettiest little fin|you've ever seen.
That's what we call them|in the fish world: Fins.
The way she maneuvered her tail,
with such finesse.
She seemed to be in trouble.
All right old boy,|let's all go home.
Yeah, you're right. Good night.
I beg your pardon.
Blasted! These shoes are too tight.
What are you doing up so late?
I just couldn't sleep.
Then I saw the partition doors open,|so I got up an hour ago.
Some hot soup?
You look tired.
I know you're worried,
but the Middlesex contract's signed,|it's just the delay.
There's no delay.
What do you mean?
It happened tonight.
Why didn't you let me know?
I didn't want you to go through|the suspense of it.
Then forget everything now,|and get a good night's rest.
They walked out on me.
They haven't done that|since I was a beginner.
The cycle's complete.
But you've changed your name!|They didn't know you.
No, I wasn't funny.|The trouble is, I was sober.
I should have been drunk|before going on.
I still insist|they didn't know you.
Just as well they didn't.
Naturally! You can't expect too much|the first performance.
You haven't worked in a long time.
But you'll see, tonight|when you go back it'll be different.
I'm not going back.
They've terminated the contract.
But they can't do that!
They can. They have.
You were engaged for the week!|You can insist.
It's no use. I'm finished.
Are you, Calvero, going to allow|one performance to destroy you?
Of course not!|You're too great an artist.
Now's the time to show them|what you're made of. Time to fight!
Remember what you told me,|standing there by that window?
Remember what you said?
About the power of the universe|moving the earth?
Growing the trees,|and that power being within you?
Now is the time to use that power,|and to fight!
Calvero, look! I'm walking!
Just think, I can walk!
Well, I can't any further.|I have to quit right here.
Do you realize|it's almost five o'clock?
I know. But I couldn't stay|in that room another minute.
I don't blame you.
Look, the dawn is breaking.
That's a good omen.
I know it. It will be.
It must be.
Don't be discouraged.|You'll get on your feet again.
On my what again?
But think how fortunate we are!
At least we both have our health.
Now I can get a job. There's always|chorus work to keep us going.
You and me. Together.
- Mr. Bodalink!|- What is it?
- The front office, sir.|- Thank you.
Terry, I was about to leave you|a note about Calvero.
Have him see me tomorrow morning|before your audition.
- He's all set for the part.|- Wonderful!
Just a minute.
Why, Terry!|I didn't hear you come in.
How could you?
Allow me. My friends,
How do you do.
We're just having a little beer,|Bach and Beethoven.
Isn't it rather late for music?
Not if we play a nocturne.
Proceed with the butchery,
only make it soft,|sentimental, largo.
- I'll stick to beer if you don't mind.|- Coming up!
But what will Mrs. Alsop say?
A fine thing! After climbing up|three flights of stairs,
I've just discovered I've got nothing|but a lot of empty beer bottles.
Why, Terry, is the show out?
I didn't realize it was that late.
It's very late.
That's our cue, we'd better go.
You're not going!|We were just about to celebrate.
- But it's almost one o'clock.|- So what?
Wait a minute!
Calvero gave me three horses|and I doubled up on them!
Now that only happens|once in a lifetime.
Wait a minute. Those stairs|are steep. I'll lead the way.
That's all right, I can handle myself.|Don't you worry about me.
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