From Tolkien's Novel: The Two Towers

Suddenly Sam woke up thinking that he heard his master calling. It was evening. Frodo could not have called, for he had fallen asleep, and had slid down nearly to he bottom of the pit. Gollum was by him. For a moment Sam thought that he was trying to rouse Frodo; then he saw that it was not so. Gollum was talking to himself. Smeagol was holding a debate with some other thought that used the same voice but made it squeak and hiss. A pale light and a green light alternated in his eyes as he spoke.
“Smeagol promised,” said the first thought.
“Yes, yes, my precious,” came the answer, “we promised: to save our Precious, not to let Him have it--never. But it’s going to Him, yes nearer every step. What’s the hobbit going to do with it, we wonders, yes we wonders.”
“I don’t know. I can’t help it. Master’s got it. Smeagol promised to help the master.”
“Yes, yes, to help the master: the master of the Precious. But if we was master, then we could help ourselves, yes, and still keep promises.”
“But smeagol said he would be very very good. Nice hobbit! He took cruel rope off Smeagol’s leg. He speaks nicely to me.”
“Very very good, eh my precious? Let’s be good, good as fish, sweet one, but to ourselves. Not hurt the nice hobbit, of course, no, no.”
“But the Precious holds the promise,” the voice of Smeagol objected.
“Then take it,” said the other “and let’s hold it ourselves! The we shall be master, gollum! Make the other hobbit, the nasty suspicious hobbit, make him crawl, yes, gollum!”
“But not the nice hobbit?”
“Oh no, not if it doesn’t please us. Still he’s a Baggins, my precious, yes a Baggins. A Baggins stole it. He found it and he said nothing, nothing, We hates Bagginses.”
“No, not this Baggins.”
“Yes, every Baggins. All peoples that keep the Precious. We must have it!”
“But He’ll see, He’ll know. He’ll take it from us!”
“He sees. He knows. He heard us make silly promises--against His orders, yes. Must take it. The Wraiths are searching. Must take it.”
“Not for Him!”
“No, sweet one. See, my precious: it we has it, then we can escape, even from Him, eh? Perhaps we grows very strong, stronger than Wraiths. Lord Smeagol? Gollum the Great? The Gollum! Eat fish every day, three times a day, fresh from the sea. Most Precious Gollum! Must have it. We wants it, we wants it, we wants it!”
“But there’s two of them. They’ll wake too quick and kill us,” whinned Smeagol in a last effort. “Not now, not yet.”
“We wants it! But”--and here there was a long pause, as if a new thought had wakened. “Not yet, eh? Perhaps not. She might help. She might, yes.”
“No, no! Not that way!” wailed Smeagol.
“Yes! We wants it! We wants it!”
Each time that the second thought spoke, Gollum’s long hand crept out slowly, pawing towards Frodo, and then was drawn back with a jerk as Smeagol spoke again. Finally both arms, with long fingers flexed and twitching, clawed towards his neck.