DOLPHIN. Oh, just life, you know--life and letters. AMY. Letters? Do you mean love letters. DOLPHIN. No, no. Letters in the sense of literature; letters as opposed to life. AMY. (_disappointed_). Oh, literature. They used to teach us literature at school. But I could never understand Emerson. What do you think about literature for? DOLPHIN. It interests me, you know. I read it; I even try to write it. AMY (_very much excited_). What, are you a writer, a poet, Mr. Dolphin? DOLPHIN. Alas, it is only too true; I am. AMY. But what do you write? DOLPHIN. Verse and prose, Miss Toomis. Just verse and prose. AMY (_with enthusiasm_). Isn't that interesting. I've never met a poet before, you know. DOLPHIN. Fortunate being. Why, before I left England I attended a luncheon of the Poetry Union at which no less than a hundred and eighty-nine poets were present. The sight of them made me decide to go to Italy. AMY. Will you show me your books? DOLPHIN. Certainly not, Miss Toomis. That would ruin our friendship. I am insufferable in my writings. In them I give vent to all the horrible thoughts and impulses which I am too timid to express or put into practice in real life. Take me as you find me here, a decent specimen of a man, shy but able to talk intelligently when the layers of ice are broken, aimless, ineffective, but on the whole quite a good sort. AMY. But I know that man already, Mr. Dolphin. I want to know the poet. Tell me what the poet is like. DOLPHIN. He is older, Miss Toomis, than the rocks on which he sits. He is villainous. He is ... but there, I really must stop. It was you who set me going, though. Did you do it on purpose. AMY. Do what on purpose? DOLPHIN. Make me talk about myself. If you want to get people to like you, you must always lead the conversation on to the subject of their characters. Nothing pleases them so much. They'll talk with enthusiasm for hours and go away saying that you're the most charming, cleverest person they've ever met. But of course you knew that already. You re Machiavellian. AMY. Machiavellian? You're the first person that's ever said that. I always thought I was very simple and straight-forward. People say about me that.... Ah, now I'_m_ talking about myself. That was unscrupulous of you. But you shouldn't have told me about the trick if you wanted it to succeed. DOLPHIN. Yes. It was silly of me. If I hadn't, you'd have gone on talking about yourself and thought me the nicest man in the world. AMY. I want to hear about your poetry. Are you writing any now? DOLPHIN. I have composed the first line of a magnificent epic. But I can't get any further. AMY. How does it go? DOLPHIN. Like this (_he clears his throat_). "Casbeen has been, and Moghreb is no more." Ah, the transience of all sublunary things! But inspiration has stopped short there. AMY. What exactly does it mean? DOLPHIN. Ah, there you re asking too much, Miss Toomis. Waiter, some coffee for two.