SCARAMUCCIO.
No, Sir Poet, say what you please, talk as you wish, make as many objections as you can possibly make, it shall in no wise alter my purpose, to listen to nothing, to consider nothing, to insist upon having my own way,—so there!
POET.
Dear Scaramuccio!
SCARAMUCCIO.
I listen to nothing. Look, Sir Poet, how I am stopping up my ears.
POET.
But the piece——
SCARAMUCCIO.
Nonsense! the piece! I am a piece too, and I have a perfect right to say my say. Or do you suppose I have no will of my own? Do you poets labour under the delusion that a gentleman actor is called upon to do just as you say? My dear sir, know you not that the times are changing?