Emanuel Schikaneder: Look, I asked you if we could start rehearsals next week and you said yes.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Well, we can.
Emanuel Schikaneder: So let me see it. Where is it?
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Here. It's all right here in my noodle. The rest is just scribbling. Scribbling and bibbling, bibbling and scribbling.
Emperor Joseph II: My dear young man, don't take it too hard. Your work is ingenious. It's quality work. And there are simply too many notes, that's all. Just cut a few and it will be perfect.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Which few did you have in mind, Majesty?
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: It's unbelievable, the director has actually torn up a huge section of my music. They say I have to rewrite the opera. But it's perfect as it is! I can't rewrite what's perfect.
Constanze Mozart: Stop it.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: I am stopping it! Slowly. There? See? I've stopped. Now we're going back.
Constanze Mozart: No.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Yes, yes! You don't know where you are! Here, everything goes backwards. People walk backwards, dance backwards, sing backwards, and even talk backwards.
Constanze Mozart: That's stupid.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Why? People fart backwards.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: I am fed to the teeth with elevated themes! Old dead legends! Why must we go on forever writing about gods and legends?
Baron Van Swieten: Because they do. They go on forever. Or at least what they represent. The eternal in us. Opera is here to enoble us. You and me, just the same as His Majesty.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Why must I submit samples of my work to some stupid committee just to teach a thirteen-year-old girl?
Count Von Strack: Because His Majesty wishes it.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Is the emperor angry with me?
Count Von Strack: Quite the contrary.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Then why doesn't he simply appoint me to the post?
Count Von Strack: Mozart, you are not the only composer in Vienna.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: No, but I'm the best.
Constanze Mozart: Wolfie, I think you really are going mad. You work like a slave for that idiot actor who won't give you a penny. And here, this is not a ghost! This is a real man who puts down real money. Why on earth won't you finish it? Can you give me one reason I can understand?
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: It's killing me.
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