Dorothy: What's his temperature, Blanche?
Blanche: I can't tell, I think my eyes are tired.
Dorothy: Your eyes are old. When are you going to admit that you need glasses?
Blanche: I don't need glasses, my mama didn't need glasses till the day she died, then it seemed silly.
Dorothy: WHAT is his temperature, Blanche?
Blanche: I can't tell, even with perfectly good eyes nobody can ever read these things.
Rose: (halfway across the room) Oh my God it's 103.