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Fiorello (Chico Marx): You gotta some mail for me? Clerk: Mail for you? You don't work here... Fiorello: Alright, where am I gonna getta my mail? I no work anyplace! 51K |
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Fiorello: What's the matter, mister? Driftwood (Groucho Marx): Oh, we had an argument and he pulled a knife on me, so I shot him. 28K |
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Driftwood (with his foot on the knocked-out Lassparri) : Two beers, bartender! Fiorello: I'll take two beers, too! 19K |
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Fiorello: Don't wake him up. He's got insomnia. He's trying to sleep it off. 20K |
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Driftwood: Why don't you fellas be nice? Get outta here before I get arrested! Fiorello: No, I'd like to stay and see that. 33K |
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Driftwood: Where can I find you? Fiorello: Don't worry. Wherever you are, you'll find us. Driftwood: No, I'm sick of that. Let's meet somewhere else... 46K |