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 yourself a chance.
Goodbye, Wick.
Don Dear: I waited for you to come home.
Please be careful. Get some sleep. Eat.
And call me, call me, call me, Helen
Hi.
I thought you was going away for the weekend.
Petes sake, what are you doing?
Come on and give me a drink!
Right with you, Mr. Birnam.
I'm just fixing myself some lunch.
Well, stop it and come on and give me a drink,
for heaven's sake. Come on, come on!
Okay.
-Can't you hurry it up a little?
-Here you are, Mr. Birnam.
That young lady stopped in last night, looking for ya.
-What young lady?
-The one with the leopard coat.
Yeah?
Yeah. She was acting like she just happened to drop in,
but I know she was making the rounds after you.
-What did you say to her?
-I said you hadn't been in for two weeks.
That's good. I can't let her see me.
Not now while I'm "off" like this.
Why don't you cut it short?
Don't talk like a child. You can't cut it short!
You're on that merry-go-round
and you've got to ride it all the way...
round and round...
till the blasted music wears itself out
and the thing dies down and clunks to a stop.
-Hey, how about you eatin' some of this?
-Take it away.
You gotta eat somethin' sometime.
Just give me another drink.
Mr. Birnam, this is the mornin'.
That's when you need it most, in the morning.
Haven't you learned that yet?
At night, this stuff's a drink.
In the morning, it's medicine.
Okay if I eat?
A little to one side.
Nat, are you ever scared when you wake up?
So scared the sweat starts out of ya, huh?
No, no you. With you it's simple.
Your alarm clock goes off and you open your eye
and brush your teeth and read the Daily Mirror. That's all.
Do you ever lie in you bed looking at the window?
A little daylight's coming through,