John Warburton: Michael Royce

Quotes 

• Michael Royce : [running a fever in bed]  I think I'm going to expire.

  Phyllis Rodgers : Oh, Michael!

  Michael Royce : I have a foreboding I'll soon be exploding if my temperature gets any higher.

  Doctor : Quite so. Where there's smoke, there's fire. Now, young man, this may turn to neuritis, arthritis, or even a case of sclerosis. You must go on a diet, have absolute quiet or else you will develop thrombosis.

  Phyllis Rodgers : Michael, darling, maybe you better take an aspirin.

• Judy Nash : I can understand how you feel about marriage. But, why go around leading with your chin. A dictaphone.

  Michael Royce : When one stands on the threshold of a glorious, emotional adventure, young lady, one doesn't go scurrying around the room looking for a dictaphone.

• Primrose : The young lady's familiarity with the byways of legal entanglements, might prove a tremendous value to us.

  Michael Royce : What do you mean?

  Primrose : We might employ her to keep us out of trouble.

  Judy Nash : Oh, no. Not me! I'm no magician. Besides, The Tribune pays me 50 bucks a week to write stories about people like you.

  Michael Royce : Say, a 150 a week?

  Judy Nash : Dollars? Gosh!

• Michael Royce : [singing]  Here it is, That golden dream of gay delights, Quite unaccountable...

• Michael Royce : Surely, dear, you can't believe that she is it and that is mine?

  Cynthia : Chiseler!

• Michael Royce : I know she saves me money; but, what good is it? I can't work. I can't write! I can't think. I can't do anything!

  Primrose : Catastrophic, sir. Catastrophic.

  Michael Royce : How can I do a brilliant play when I'm surround by such stillness! Nobody inspires me! Nobody!

  Primrose : Perhaps a spot of Beethoven might do the trick, sir? Might'in it?

  Michael Royce : No music, Primrose, thank you. Oh, you're doing your best. You've been like a comfortable old shoe. But, what I need is a dashing silver slipper with a high French heel! - Not a bad line, that is!

• Primrose : I beg pardon, sir. But, might not one consider Miss Nash a dashing silver slipper?

  Michael Royce : Nash? That emotional iceberg? No. There's no dash about Nash.

• Primrose : Sir, has it occurred to you that beneath that business like exterior, there vibrates a romantic soul?

  Michael Royce : Nonsense, Primrose. What would she look like in an evening gown? - - What *would* she look like in an evening gown?

• Michael Royce : Judy you look ravishing tonight. You don't mind if I call you Judy, do you?

• Michael Royce : Will you sit down Phyllis?

  Phyllis Rodgers : Oh, no. Let's go out to the terrace - away from all these stuffy people. Everything is too, too stuffy.

• Phyllis Rodgers : Oh, silly boy, can't you see clearly enough that I ran off to Europe in hopes that you'd follow me?

  Michael Royce : On what? A surf board?

• Michael Royce : What is it beneath that chilly exterior of yours that I cannot fathom? I know that if these lips were ever to touch yours, my blood would freeze. Yet, I am powerless to help myself. Oh, I love you. I adore you.

• Michael Royce , Judy Nash : [singing]  Here it is, For this is love at last, And ecstasy is mine!