SCARAMUCCIO.
Oh, fool! I will ride in plain, sensible prose. Do you suppose I wish to be jolted in Alcaic measures, or break my neck in Proceleusmatics? No, I am for sense and order.
GROOM.
Your predecessor was always flying in the air.
SCARAMUCCIO.
Don’t talk to me about the fellow. He must have been a very clown, a most eccentric ass. To fly into the air! No, the air has no pillars, I am all for the earth. Adieu, my friends! I am only going to ride a short essay on the value of family portraits. I shall be back presently. (He rides slowly away.)
(The curtain drops.)
SCAEVOLA.
That was only the introduction.
PIERROT.