I've--I've even written poems.
SHE: Vers libre--splendid! (She declaims.) "The trees are green, The birds are singing in the trees, The girl sips her poison The bird flies away the girl dies." HE: (Laughing) No, not that kind.
SHE: (Suddenly) I like you.
HE: Don't.
SHE: Modest too-- HE: I'm afraid of you.

I'm always afraid of a girl--until I've kissed her.
SHE: (Emphatically) My dear boy, the war is over.
HE: So I'll always be afraid of you.
SHE: (Rather sadly) I suppose you will.
(A slight hesitation on both their parts.) HE: (After due consideration) Listen.

This is a frightful thing to ask.
SHE: (Knowing what's coming) After five minutes.
HE: But will you--kiss me?
Or are you afraid?
SHE: I'm never afraid--but your reasons are so poor.
HE: Rosalind, I really _want_ to kiss you.
SHE: So do I.
(They kiss--definitely and thoroughly.) HE: (After a breathless second) Well, is your curiosity satisfied?
SHE: Is yours?
HE: No, it's only aroused.
(He looks it.) SHE: (Dreamily) I've kissed dozens of men.

I suppose I'll kiss dozens more.
HE: (Abstractedly) Yes, I suppose you could--like that.
SHE: Most people like the way I kiss.
HE: (Remembering himself) Good Lord, yes.

Kiss me once more, Rosalind.
SHE: No--my curiosity is generally satisfied at one.
HE: (Discouraged) Is that a rule?
SHE: I make rules to fit the cases.
HE: You and I are somewhat alike--except that I'm years older in experience.
SHE: How old are you?
HE: Almost twenty-three.