Thumbtanic

Geranium: Yawn. I'm tired of being rich. I want to be poor: dance with paupers, and have sex in a car. Oh, I do so want to be poor.

Geranium's Servant: You want to be poor? Are you half crazy? I work eighteen hours a day, for a mere shilling a week; then I return to a freezing room the size of a closet! Oh, I would pack myself in excrement if it meant just staying one degree warmer.

Geranium: I do so want to be poor... except for all those parts.