Rocco: That's-a last time you trick me out of a drink!
Deacon: Now listen to me, my good man...
Rocco: I am no your good man!
Deacon: True, tonight you are not my good man. You are a uncouth lout, a miserable boor and without question the roughest bartender in the neighborhood.
Deacon: [lifting a glass of wine] To paraphrase the Immortal Bard: the grape's the thing!
Rocco: Bartolomeo, why is it after all these years you now come home? Not because you lonesome for your Uncle Rocco? You musta have a speciala reason, eh?
Rocco: You gonna tell your Uncle Rocco, hanh?
Bart: I don't know if I can put it in so many words. I don't know if you'd understand.
Rocco: Hmmm. You try me.
Bart: All right, I've come to try to find something... to find myself... to find me, Bartolomeo Tomaselli.
Rocco: [perplexed] You was right - I no understand!
Bart: You ever see any of my pictures?
Rocco: Ma, sure, I see all your picts.
Bart: Do you like the pictures I write?
Rocco: Ma, sure, they wonderful picts.
Bart: Why, Rocco? Why do you like them?
Rocco: Well, alla the time in your picts I never have to worry because alla da time your picts end up so nice!
Bart: Thanks, Roc, you're very kind. I'm glad I came home.