Barbarella1968

[As Barbarella is dragged off, the Great Tyrant lays out Pygar and sinuously crawls over him.]

Great Tyrant:
Tell me, my fancy, fuzzy freak — what do you think of, when you make love to Barbarella?

Pygar:
Make love? I do not understand.

Great Tyrant:
Don't be coy with me — you are in no position. If only you had one eye in your head…

[In his "touching" style, he caresses her… features.]

Great Tyrant:
… you would see what a delight I am! My face, my body — all my things are a delight! An exquisite delight.

Pygar:
What is it you want?

Great Tyrant:
I shall share my delights with you. You shall make love to me.

Pygar:
An angel does not make love. An angel is love.

Great Tyrant:
Then you're a dead duck. Guards! To the Mathmos with this winged fruitcake!