John: Of course, my little sylvan sprite. (kissing her) Down the hall, to your right. (she goes) Isn't she dainty? Isn't she delicate? Isn't she the most precious thing you've ever seen?
June: Well, she's a Cancer with a Gemini moon. She's a crab with two heads.
Jack: I hope she didn't give me crabs with two heads.
John: So you got Cancer last night? Must've been after I rammed myself to sleep.
June: Oh, you got May-ed, did you?
John: Yes, and she was surprisingly wet. Showers and flowers to infinity. I swear, the three of you are so cherubic that it takes my breath away. Morning after innocence is a rare commodity.
May: Maybe we're not of this Earth. Perhaps we've gone beyond feminism into a realm of pure sensual freedom.
Jack: Or maybe you've just read too much Anais Nin.
Shelley: (breaking his long silence) As for darling little April...she looks like the portrait Mary promised me...you saw it, Jack, at the opening...something in the softness, the fragility...the girl's name is Harding, Jack, right? Isn't Harding her name? (Jack grunts noncomitally) Is something the matter, Jack? (Jack shakes his head) What, is Harding the one, Jack?
John: Chill out, Shelley. Let's all smoke a bowl and forget limitation. The day will reveal its secrets in good time. Shelley? (he passes the bowl to Shelley) I think it's time we headed for the hills. Let's hear the trees breathe, the soft inland murmur of streams, the plaintive wail of the nightingale.
June: With the moon rising in Scorpio making a trine to transiting Mars in Cancer, all interactions with bodies of water are bound to light up the heart chakra like a Roman candle.
Shelley: I have tasted the water of your body, June, and felt the pulse of Rome in my candle. You have gutted my roots with your lovely Sagittarian fire, but the thing is, me and Jack are on the road, and the road is on us to keep going. We must forge ahead or be damned.
Jack: And you can take all that astrological garbage straight to Uranus. (everyone laughs)
John: One more day. Give us one more day. We will go into the woods, we'll trip, we'll take stock of the bounty of the universe. Jack, Shelley, you have not seen the wood-nymphs dance, you have not been with them in the wilderness, you have not lived an ode on a grecian urn. There is yet some wild ecstasy to be had from these wild bodies. Give us one more day.
Jack: You are all lovely and quite insane. I could be your voice of reason but I'm too deep-down stymied to do it. I'm up for anything. We'll do it. We'll go to the woods. We'll trip, and then we'll eat our feast. What do you say, Shelley?