Arlecchino: You don’t know who you’re talking to! Why, I’m the greatest magician since Cagliostro!
Pantalone: You boast, sir! You are nothing but an ignorant hick from no-account Bergamo. A hungry, smelly tatterdemalion servant with holes in your pockets as large as the one in your head!
Arlecchino: It doesn’t matter whether you believe, vecchio, so long as I do. And for proof that I am master of the element of air you need only examine your purse. By the wingéd ankles of Mercury you’ll find it’s lighter by at least 20 florins.
And with a maniacal laugh the clown vanishes, leaving behind a sulfurous yellow cloud and the frothing mad merchant.