A New Leaf

Henry Graham:
I have no mind as far as I can tell.

Henrietta:
Have you ever tasted Mogen-David extra-heavy malaga wine with soda water and lime juice?

Uncle Harry:
You are an aging youth!

Henry Graham:
What frond is in your token?

Henry Graham:
Excuse me, you're not by any chance related to the Boston Hitlers?

Bo:
He was an industrialist or a composer. Something like that.

Henry Graham:
She's not engaged?

Bo:
No, she's a botanist.

Henry Graham:
Tell me about yourself, Miss Lowell - your work, your hopes, your dreams.

Henrietta Lowell:
Well, I work as a teacher and I also do field work and write monographs. My hope is to discover a new variety of fern that has never been described or classified. I don't know what my dream is. Do you think it could be the same as my hope? Well, at any rate, that is my work and my hope except for my dream, which I'm not sure of.

Henry Graham:
If you can't be immortal, why bother?

Harold:
Should I serve you breakfast in bed, or would you like me to follow you about with the tray?

Henry Graham:
The only difference between us is I am a man and you are a woman and we don't have to let that interfere if we are reasonably careful.

Henrietta Lowell:
Did you hurt yourself?

Henry Lowell:
No, kneeling on glass is my favorite pastime. It keeps me from slouching.

Henrietta Lowell:
Really, Andrew. I don't see why you take it for granted that the only reason someone would marry me is for my money. There may be some other basis, you know.

Andy McPherson:
Oh my God! Oh my God! Of course, Henrietta! Haven't I proposed to you these past ten years on whatever other basis there is?

Andy McPherson:
Who do I know who's pregnant and a good sport?

Andy McPherson:
Any sex-starved half-wit would see that stuff's a line!

Henry Graham:
Oh, no. I forgot to check her before she went to school this morning. She'll be walking around all day with price tags dangling from her sleeves.

Harold:
I took the liberty, sir.

Henry Graham:
Thank you, Harold. Was she free of crumbs?

Harold:
Only a slight sprinkling, sir.

Henrietta Lowell:
They say if you don't scratch, it itches less.

Henry Graham:
Well, they're wrong. It only looks like it itches less because you're not scratching.

Henry Graham:
[as Sally Hart starts to remove her bra... ] No, don't let them out!

Harold:
Oh, I'm so glad you found a nice suitable young lady.

Henry Graham:
She is NOT suitable. She's primitive, she has no spirit, no wit, no conversation, and she has to be vacuumed every time she eats.

Harold:
Oh, she must be very wealthy sir...

Henry Graham:
...Never have I seen one woman in whom every social grace was so lacking. Did I say she was primitive? I retract that. She's feral. I've never spent a more physically destructive evening in my life. I am nauseated. I limp. And I can feel my teeth rotting away from an excess of sugar that no amount of toothpaste can dislodge. I will taste those damn Malaga coolers forever. That woman is a menace not only to health, but to western civilization as we know it.

Harold:
How many men these days require the services of a gentleman's gentleman? How many men have your devotion to form, sir? You have managed, in your own lifetime Mr. Graham, to keep alive traditions that were dead before you were born.

Henrietta:
[said several times] Heavens!

Henry Graham:
I think I have found, God help us, Miss Right.

Henry Graham:
She's unscrewing my Montrazini

Henry Graham:
What will I do?

Harold:
What any gentleman of similar breeding and temperament would do in your position, sir.

Henry Graham:
Suicide?

Harold:
No, sir, I was not going to suggest suicide, I was going to suggest marriage.

Henry Graham:
Marriage? You mean to a woman?

Harold:
Yes sir, that is what I had in mind. It's the only way to acquire property without labor. There is inheritance, but I think your uncle has already stated his intention to leave everything he owns to Radio Free Europe.

Henry Graham:
Oh, I can't, Harold. I couldn't. I mean she'd be there, asking where I'd been, talking to me, talking. I wouldn't be able to bear it.

Harold:
Well, it was only a suggestion, sir, but the alternatives are very limited and unspeakably depressing, sir. If you do not commit suicide you would be poor.

Henry Graham:
Poor?

Harold:
Poor in the only real sense of the word sir, in that you will not be rich. You will have a little after you've sold everything, but in a country where every man is what he has, he who has very little is nobody very much. There is no such thing as genteel poverty here, sir.

Harold:
...in a country where every man is what he has, he who has very little is nobody very much.

Henry Graham:
You're more to be scorned than pitied!

Henry Graham:
[repeated line] You've got your head... in the arm hole.

Henry Graham:
A woman of your stature has the right to expect every courtesy in any home she consents to visit.

Henrietta:
What stature?

Henry Graham:
Oh come now, Ms. Lowell. I've read far too many botanical journals to take that question seriously.

Henrietta:
Are you a botanist?

Henry Graham:
No, just a botanical journal reader. Every science has its fans.

Gloria Cunliffe:
[Henrietta has clumsily spilled tea on Gloria's carpet several times] Henrietta, is this some kind of a joke? Because if it is, I do not find it amusing. If your nerves are not steady enough to hold a cup and saucer in your hand, then you should not be drinking tea. Once - yes, but twice in a row...

Henry Graham:
[Deliberately dumping his tea on Gloria's carpet] Madam... there you are, madam. Take your damn carpet to the cleaners, and send the bill to me. There you are. Come, Miss Lowell, I'm taking you home. Take your bag.

Gloria Cunliffe:
[Henry and Miss Lowell start to depart] You son of a b*tch...

Henry Graham:
You dare call me a son of a b*tch? Madam, I have seen many examples of perversion in my time, but your erotic obsession with your carpet is probably the most grotesque and certainly the most boring I have ever encountered. You're more to be scorned than pitied. Good day, Mrs. Cunliffe

[Henry and Miss Lowell leave together]

[During Henry's "surprise homecoming party", Henrietta's servants shower him with gifts]

Henry Graham:
I would like to say a word, please, Mrs. Traggert. There's something about you that puzzles me.

Henry Graham:
Mmm-hmm.

Henry Graham:
Why do you continue on in the arduous position of housekeeper when by investing wisely you could have your own little townhouse in Sutton Place? [the servants laughs; John blows on his harmonica] And a guarantee income for life?

Mrs. Traggert:
Oh! [the servants laughs again]

Henry Graham:
Surely after having successfully managed to pad the household accounts to the tune of 35,000 tax-free dollars per year for the past five years, you must've salted something away.

Mrs. Traggert:
Have I ever! [laughs]

Henry Graham:
I'm not including, of course, the token salary of $800 per week...

Mrs. Traggert:
[corrects Henry] Four hundred. Four, four.

Henry Graham:
[ignores the correction] $800 a week you receive as mad money.

Mrs. Traggert:
Ah, is it mad. [the servants laughs once again] Ha-ha-ha! Ooh, is it mad!

Henry Graham:
Mrs. Traggert, you're fired.

[the laughter stops abruptly]

Mrs. Traggert:
[shocked] I don't unders- I don't know what that means.

Henry Graham:
That means that you are a thief, Mrs. Traggert.

Mrs. Traggert:
On what grounds are you making this accusation?

Henry Graham:
I am calling you a thief on the basis of the household accounts which you very sensibly hid under your mattress.

Mrs. Traggert:
Well, listen, Mr. Graham, could I speak to you for just one little minute, please?

Henry Graham:
[looks at his watch] The time is now seven minutes past 9:00. If you are not out of this house by 10:00, I will call the police. Shall we synchronize our watches, or would you rather go for broke?

Mrs. Traggert:
[stammers] Uh, uh, you wouldn't-um, you wouldn't like to hear my side of the story? [Henry picks up the telephone receiver, then starts to call the N.Y.P.D] [in anger] All right, All right! I'm leaving!

[the termination of Henrietta's servants continues]

Henry Graham:
Oh, John?

John:
Yes, sir?

Henry Graham:
John, do you think we ought to scrap our cars?

John:
[confused] Huh?

Henry Graham:
You see, according to your gas consumption and mileage record, each car averages 15 miles a day at one mile per gallon while parked in the garage. It would mean bankruptcy if we actually took 'em out on the road.

John:
Well, those figures are wrong by about, um... half?

Henry Graham:
John, do you have a suitcase?

John:
Yeah. I have, uh... five. I could always use another one.

Henry Graham:
Five will do very nicely, John. Pack all five and be out of this house in 45 minutes, or I will shoot you on-sight for trespassing.

John:
[stammers] I - I - I don't get it.

Henry Graham:
I'll try to clarify it, John. You are being fired because you are a cheap crook. Now, if you are not out of this house and off these grounds in 45 minutes, I will shoot you as a trespasser with proved criminal intentions... [pulls out his .38 snub nose gun; the servants backs up] and I am an excellent shot. Does that make it clearer?

John:
Well, uh... [scoffs] if you're going to act like that, uh, I quit.

[John, storms off the premises insulted]

Henry Graham:
[to the remaining servants] As for the rest of you, you have exactly two hours to get out. [yells] OUT! [then to the youngest maid, now in tears] And I do not believe THAT for one second!