brother must find me home, ready and packed.
Shall we dance?
-You're awfully pretty, Mr. Birnam.
-I bet you tell that to all the boys.
Why, natch. Only with you it's on the level.
-Yeah. Sit down.
-No thanks. Thanks a lot, but no thanks.
-There's somebody waiting.
-Him?
I bet he wears arch supporters.
Oh. He's just an old friend of the folks.
Lovely gentleman.
He buys me dimpled Scotch.
He sould buy you Indian rubies,
and a villa in Calcutta overlooking the Ganges.
Don't be ridic.
Gloria, please...
why imperil our friendship
with these loathsome abbreviations.
I could make myself free for later on, if you want.
No Gloria, I'm going away for the weekend.
Some other time.
Any time.
Just crazy about the back of your hair.
Nat, weave me another.
You'd better take it easy.
Oh. Don't worry about me.
Just let me know when it's a quarter of six.
Come on, Nat. Join me. Just one little jigger of dreams.
No thanks.
You don't approve of drinking?
Not the way you drink.
It shrinks my liver, doesn't it, Nat?
It pickles my kidNeys.
Yes. But what does it do to my mind?
It tosses the sandbags overboard
so the balloon can soar.
Suddenly, I'm above the ordinary.
I'm competent, supremely competent.
I'm walking a tightrope over Niagara Falls.
I'm one of the great ones.
I'm Michelangelo molding the beard of Moses.
I'm Van Gogh, painting pure sunlight.
I'm Horowitz, playing the Emperor Concerto.
I'm John Barrymore before the movies got him by the throat.
I'm Jesse James and his two brothers, all three of them.
I'm W. Shakespeare.
And out there it's not Third Avenue any longer.
It's the Nile, Nat.
The Nile and down it moves the barge of Cleopatra.
Come here.
Purple the sails, and so perfumed
that the winds were love-sick with them.
the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke...
Maybe he's at Morandi's or Nat's bar...
or that place on Forty-second street?
What difference does it make?
-You're not really going, Wick.
-I certainly am.
-But you can't leave him alone. Not for four days.
-Yes I can.
Oh. For heaven's sake, Wick.
If he's left alone, anything can happen!
And I'll be tied up at the office every minute.
All Saturday. All Sunday. I can't look out for him.
You know how he gets. He'll be run over by a car.
He'll be arrested.
He doesn't know what he's doing.
A cigarette might fall from his mouth
and he'll burn in his bed...
Oh, Helen. If it happens, it happens.
And I hope it does.
I've had six years of this. I've had my bellyful.
-Wick, you can't mean that.
-Yes I do.
It's terrible, I know, but I mean it.
-For heaven's sake, Wick...
-Who are we fooling?
We've tried everything, haven't we?
We've reasoned with him, we've babied him.
We've watched him like a hawk.
We've tried trusting him.
How often have you cried?
How often have I beaten him up?
We scrape him out of the gutter and...
pump some kind of self-respect into hims,
and back he falls, back in, every time.
He's a sick person.
It's as though there were something wrong
with his heart or his lungs.
You wouldn't walk out on him
because he had an attack. He needs our help.
He won't accept our help. Not Don. He hates us.
He wants to be alone with that bottle of his.
It's all he gives a hang about.
Why kid ourselves?
He's a hopeless alcoholic.
"The cloud-capp'd towers the gorgeous palaces."
Nat!
The solemn temples, the great globe itself...
Mr. Birnam, you ought to go home. It's late.
Yea, all which it inherit shall dissolve...
You ought to be home, on account of your brother.
Who says so?
You said so. On account of you're going away somewhere,
don't you remember?
-What time is it?
-Ten past six.
-Well, why didn't you tell me?
-What do you think I've been doing for a half an hour?
Hey, hey, your change.
Taxi! Taxi!
-I'll give you a lift as far as Grand Central.
-No thanks. I'm gonna wait here.
You're crazy.
Because I won't give up? Maybe I am.
Let go of him, Helen. Give