I see a man, a handsome man, a handsome Harvard man.

I'm a man in search of a woman.

You are the raw clay from which I will mold a perfect woman, worthy of a perfect man.

Come and listen to a story about a man named Jed, a poor mountaineer, barely kept his family fed.

Now, I have studied drama at Yale, Harvard, Princeton, and Dartmouth, and I am probably the only living man who can accomplish this difficult cultural metamorphosis in the brief time available.

Smoothly... and gracefully.

And Mumsy will call the police.

Come, fair maiden, and I shall sing of your golden tresses, and your azure eyes, and your skin of alabaster, and your other charms that set me aflame.

And only you can put out the fire.

I can't wait to see Ellie all polished up and talking like Sonny and Miss Jean.

It's broad daylight, and besides, they swim.

I must have complete quiet and concentration.

He's sitting on the bank, and he's holding her hand.

Now we'll practice diction and intonation at the same time.

Now you watch me closely and I'll show you how to develop perfect posture and grace of movement.

That is ludicrous, irrational, sophomoric, and pure hokum.

And then one day he was shooting at some food, and up to the ground come a bubbling crude.

The Beverly Hillbilly.

While I transfuse into this simple, untutored mind the charm, the polish, the splendor,

Ellie Mae Clampett needs me, and I need her.