Four Star Playhouse

Edith Livingston:
Such a depressing middle-class gentility about governesses, don't you think?

Count Bocelli:
Maybe so, but if that lady represents middle-class gentility, it is interesting that she should be the one to wear a string of pearls worth at least 50,000 pounds.

Edith Livingston:
Forgive me for saying this, but are you sure?

Count Bocelli:
How can anyone be sure of anything in this uncertain and capricious world? [Turning to the governess] I beg your pardon, Miss Robinson, but may I examine your pearls more closely?

Joan Robinson:
Why, yes. Yes, of course.

Count Bocelli:
You were right, Mrs. Livingston. I was mistaken.

Edith Livingston:
I felt sure that you must be.

Count Bocelli:
I said they were worth 50,000 pounds. They are worth at least 60.

Edith Livingston:
What? Miss Robinson, where did those pearls come from?

Joan Robinson:
Well, I don't remember where I bought them, Mrs. Livingston, but I assure you I didn't pay 60,000 pounds for them.

Count Bocelli:
I haven't seen pearls like those since I appraised the Duchess of Melford's ten years ago. They are not only perfectly matched, but very, very old.

Joan Robinson:
But I don't understand. I mean, they couldn't be.

Edith Livingston:
Miss Robinson, Count Borselli ought to know. What I'd like to know is how you...

Himself - Host:
As the evening wore on, it did seem as though we were in on the birth of a romance. The continued absence of Joan and Peter left no question about that. The only question remaining was when was Colonel Mournay going to run out of Kipling ballads.

Count Bocelli:
Mrs. Livingston, this has been a most enjoyable evening for me.

Edith Livingston:
It must have seemed quite like a busman's holiday to you, Count, discovering those pearls.

Count Bocelli:
Ah yes, the pearls. But then, their great value is only a faithful reflection of the lady who wears them.

Jeweler:
May I assist you, madam?

Joan Robinson:
Well, I wonder if I might have these appraised.

Jeweler:
Why? [trying not to smile]

Joan Robinson:
Well, I wanted to know.

Jeweler:
But they're nothing. They're not worth 15 shillings.

Joan Robinson:
Yes, that's what I thought. That's just about what I paid for them.

Jeweler:
Then why did you ask me?

Joan Robinson:
I wanted to be sure. And now I don't understand it at all.

Joan Robinson:
And despite the fact that I told the truth, everybody believed you. And because they did, it was assumed that I was something that I wasn't and never pretended to be. Now they call me a cheat and a liar. Who cheated? Who lied? You knew they were just an ordinary string of beads, Count Borselli. I don't know why you did it, it doesn't matter now, but you must be very satisfied. Your hoax was a huge success.

Count Bocelli:
Miss Robinson, just a moment.

Joan Robinson:
No.

Count Bocelli:
Please.

Joan Robinson:
All right. Why did you do it?

Count Bocelli:
A whim, if you will. The party seemed dull, the people pretentious, and their attitude toward you left much to be desired.

Joan Robinson:
And your attitude toward me - what that any better? If it was such a good joke, couldn't you have let me in on it? Perhaps I might have enjoyed it too.

Count Bocelli:
You seem to be enjoying yourself very much lately, Miss Robinson. We both knew it was an illusion, didn't we? But then, what else is happiness? And now you're furious with me. Ah, well, I wish I could undo the mischief. I shall of course explain everything to Mrs. Livingston.

Joan Robinson:
It's a little late for explanations.

Count Bocelli:
Well then, at least let me make some small reparation by asking you out to dinner tonight.

Joan Robinson:
Thank you very much. I already have an invitation for tonight. Good-bye, Count Borselli.

Laura:
I suppose he gave her the pearls she's wearing as a wedding gift?

Himself - Host:
No, it's the same ordinary string of beads that started it all. She's rarely seen without them. Of course, their value has increased enormously if you measure it by the happiness they've brought her.

Murderer:
Well, frankly I didn't want to frighten you. You see, I've heard there's an escaped murderer in the area.

Ellen McIntyre:
Murderer?

Murderer:
From the state hospital. They said he was dangerous, so we shouldn't stick around here.

Ellen McIntyre:
No, of course not.

Murderer:
Here it is in the paper. A man of about 40, tall, soft spoken, and scar on right cheek... What's the matter?

Ellen McIntyre:
Nothing. You were right. This house won't do. It's not what I'm looking for.

Murderer:
Don't you want to see the upstairs?

Ellen McIntyre:
No, I have to get back to town.

Murderer:
You think I'm him - is that it?

Ellen McIntyre:
Who?

Murderer:
The man in the paper, the one they're looking for.

Ellen McIntyre:
No, no, I don't.

Murderer:
[laughs softly] Of course you don't. Lots of people have scars on their cheeks.

Ellen McIntyre:
It's this house, something about it that gives me the creeps.

Murderer:
Yeah, I know what you mean.

Murderer:
It's all gone wrong. It should have been so easy. I saw this house. Deserted, isolated. I thought I'd stay here and rest. Then he came, with that sign of his. I had to kill him!

Ellen McIntyre:
Please, if you'll only let me go, I promise you I won't tell anyone. Please, my husband's coming home from Korea.

Murderer:
Korea? A soldier?

Ellen McIntyre:
Yes, we haven't seen each other for three years, and I've just got to see him again.

Murderer:
Soldiers kill. [He pulls a gun from his pocket] I can kill too.

Ellen McIntyre:
Oh, please let me go!

Murderer:
Shut up! What are you trying to do - make me nervous?

Rocco:
That's-a last time you trick me out of a drink!

Deacon:
Now listen to me, my good man...

Rocco:
I am no your good man!

Deacon:
True, tonight you are not my good man. You are a uncouth lout, a miserable boor and without question the roughest bartender in the neighborhood.

Deacon:
[lifting a glass of wine] To paraphrase the Immortal Bard: the grape's the thing!

Rocco:
Bartolomeo, why is it after all these years you now come home? Not because you lonesome for your Uncle Rocco? You musta have a speciala reason, eh?

Bart:
Yes.

Rocco:
You gonna tell your Uncle Rocco, hanh?

Bart:
I don't know if I can put it in so many words. I don't know if you'd understand.

Rocco:
Hmmm. You try me.

Bart:
All right, I've come to try to find something... to find myself... to find me, Bartolomeo Tomaselli.

Rocco:
[perplexed] You was right - I no understand!

Bart:
You ever see any of my pictures?

Rocco:
Ma, sure, I see all your picts.

Bart:
Do you like the pictures I write?

Rocco:
Ma, sure, they wonderful picts.

Bart:
Why, Rocco? Why do you like them?

Rocco:
Well, alla the time in your picts I never have to worry because alla da time your picts end up so nice!

Bart:
Thanks, Roc, you're very kind. I'm glad I came home.

[first lines]

[Dan and his finacee are dancing in a swanky night club]

Dan:
So this is how the other half lives, huh?

Lisa:
I like it.

Dan:
I was referring to the other half - not the future better half.

[last lines]

Miss Wilson:
Follow me, Mr. Grisby.

Carl Baxter:
[Bitterly to Minna] Christmas spirit! As synthetic as the snow they put on trees!

Minna Baxter:
[to Carl] But, darling, you can't invest in children. They're not like stocks and bonds.

Dan Hodges:
[speaking lovingly to his wife] Dear, if I ever lost you, I'd travel the rest of my years like a man in a bad dream.

Willie Dante:
[Wincing] That's the worst coffee I ever tasted in my life! What did you do... make it with soapy water?

Monte:
Soapy water? Wash the glasses with it.

Willie Dante:
Wash the glasses with it? They haven't been washed since you came here.

Monte:
How do you know what soapy water tastes like?

Willie Dante:
I've taken a shower!

Jackson:
There's a woman waiting to see you in your office.

Willie Dante:
Is it a mother who wants her daughter's money back or a daughter who wants more for her money?

Simms:
[Playing blackjack] Hit me.

Willie Dante:
[Sarcastically] I'd love to, Mr. Simms.

Tony Stewart:
Ma, let me have a good look at you. That's an incredible outfit! Whose mother do you think you are, Whistler's?

Ma Baker:
Never mind. I got you sprung didn't I?

Tony Stewart:
Well, I'm sprung all right, but you could frighten the horses going around looking like that.

Mervyn:
I had a cousin like that once - a real artist. He was in the habit of putting a wart on Jackson's nose, so that the trade would know who had done the plates. Pretty soon the T-Men found out, too. My cousin, he pulled 10 to 20.

Tony Stewart:
What a facinating anecdote. Has a moral, too. If you want to forge ahead, don't change the features.

Ma Baker:
This is the first time you've ever had trouble turning a fast buck.

Tony Stewart:
It's the first time I ever tried turning a fast buck the honest way.

Mervyn:
Rough, huh?

Tony Stewart:
Rough. I've knocked on so many doors, I've got water on the knuckles.

Tony Stewart:
It's not going to bring in the kind of money we need, but I'm going to have to go to work.

Mervyn:
A job!

Tony Stewart:
They go hand in hand, Mervyn.