[ANNE, spoken]

Oh Henrik, dear, don't you have anything less gloomy to practice?

[HENRIK, spoken]

It isn't gloomy

It's profound

[ANNE, spoken]

Well, can't you be profound later?

[HENRIK, as he plays the cello]

Later...

When is later?...

All you ever hear is "Later, Henrik—

Henrik, later..."

"Yes, we know, Henrik

Oh, Henrik

Everyone agrees, Henrik

Please, Henrik!"

You have a thought you're fairly bursting with

A personal discovery or problem, and it's

"What's your rush, Henrik?

Shush, Henrik

Goodness, how you gush, Henrik

Hush, Henrik!"

You murmur

"I only—

It's just that—

For God's sake—!"

"Later, Henrik..."

"Henrik"...

Who is "Henrik"?

"Oh, that lawyer's son, the one who mumbles

Short and boring

Yes, he's hardly worth ignoring"

And who cares if he's all dammed—

I beg your pardon—

Up inside?

As I've often stated

It's intolerable

Being tolerated

"Reassure Henrik

Poor Henrik

Henrik, you'll endure

Being pure, Henrik"

Though I've been born, I've never been!

How can I wait around for later?

I'll be ninety on my deathbed

And the late, or rather later

Henrik Egerman!

Doesn't anything begin?