Then, prythee, be canorous. You may sing
One of those ditties which have won you gold,
And my meek audience of the vapid strain
Shall count with Phœbus as a full discharge
For all your ducats. Will you not begin?
Haverillo.
Leave off this horrid jest, Firmilian!
Firmilian.
Jest! ’Tis no jest! This pillar’s very high—
Shout, and no one can hear you from the square—