What’s the matter, Pierrot?
PIERROT.
What’s the matter? I will not play to-day. On no account will I play.
POET.
Why not?
PIERROT.
Why not? Because it’s high time for me to become a spectator. I’ve been a mime long enough.
(Enter Wagemann, the manager.)
POET.
You are just in time, Herr Wagemann. There is confusion abroad.