[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?