But I am choked with rage when I behold
These saucy fishmongers assume such airs,
Now throw their eyes disdainful down, and now
Lift their arch'd brows and wrinkle up their fronts—
"Say, at what price you sell this brace of mullets?"
"Ten oboli," they answer. "Sure you joke;
Ten oboli indeed! will you take eight?"
"Yes, if you choose but one."—"Come, come, be serious,
Nor trifle with your betters thus."—"Pass on,
And take your custom elsewhere." 'Tis enough