The Mad Nun: [Not yet perfectly sober] Shh get down! Jesus! O Jesus! Jesus!
Achates: [Disgustingly sober] Did they see us?
The Mad Nun: Shh! Don’t speak! Good god what is that noise that one is making in the street?
Achates: I think he’s trying to whistle.
The Mad Nun: He should leave whistling to the professionals!
Achates: Shh! They’re coming this way.
The Mad Nun: If we get caught I’m prepared to swear a hole through a ten gallon pot that it was you who came on to me.
Achates: Judas! And I’ve been so faithful.
The Mad Nun: Freeze in hell. I know people so don’t piss me off.
Achates: Well there’s gratitude. And after I wined and dined you. Gave you fancy bread.
The Mad Nun: I’ll say you put something in my drink. Now get down, there’s not as much room in here as we had last night.
Achates: The hearse tomorrow night?
The Mad Nun: It’s up to my husband.
Jesus: [Who up to then had said nothing whatsoever of any kind] I’m in, but the state of our last cab was not what you would call clean when we left it to the tender mercy of others the last time, or more properly, last night when not to put too fine a point on it, we left an enormous wet spot, as it is called, or, more properly, dry crumbs.