HERE'S TO YOU, MRS. ROBINSON
Benjamin: Mrs. Robinson, I can't do this anymore.
Mrs. Robinson: You what?
Benjamin: This is all terribly wrong.
Mrs. Robinson: Do you find me undesirable?
Benjamin: Oh no, Mrs. Robinson. I think, I think you're the most attractive of all my parents' friends. I mean that.
Mrs. Robinson: Let's drop it.
Benjamin: We're not dropping it! I'm good enough for you, but I'm not good enough to associate with your daughter. That's it, isn't it! Isn't it?
Mrs. Robinson: [lengthy pause] Yes.
Benjamin: You go to hell! You go straight to hell, Mrs. Robinson! Do you think I'm proud of myself? Do you think I'm proud of this?
Mrs. Robinson: I wouldn't know.
Benjamin: Well, I am not! No sir, I am not proud that I spend my time with a broken-down alcoholic!
Mrs. Robinson: I see.
Benjamin: And if you think I come here for any reason besides pure boredom, then you're all wrong; because Mrs. Robinson, this is the sickest, most perverted thing in the world that ever happened to me! And you do what you want, but I'm getting the hell out!
Mrs. Robinson: Are you?
Benjamin: Goddam right I am!
Benjamin: Listen to me. What happened between Mrs. Robinson and me was nothing. It didn't mean anything. We might just as well have been shaking hands.
Mr. Robinson: Shaking hands? Well, that's not saying much for my wife, is it?
Benjamin: It's like I was playing some kind of game, but the rules don't make any sense to me. They're being made up by all the wrong people. I mean no one makes them up. They seem to make themselves up.