The Haggling Scene from "Monty Python's Life of Brian" (After Brian has escaped the Centurions, he runs off towards the crowded market square. At one end of the market there is a speakers' corner, with many strangely bearded and oddly dressed Prophets attempting to attract an audience. The noisiest or the most controversial are clearly doing best at attracting Passers-by. A strange figure with a rasta hairstyle, covered in mud, and with two severed hands on a pole waves wildly at the audience.) Blood & Thunder Prophet: ...and shall ride forth on a serpents' back, and the eyes shall be red with the blood of living creatures, and the whore of Babylon shall rise over the hill of excitement and throughout the land there will be a great rubbing of parts.... (Beside him, another Prophet with red hair, none the less fierce, is trying to attract some of the Blood & Thunder Prophet's audience.) False Prophet: And he shall bear a nine-bladed sword. Nine-bladed. Not two. Or five or seven, but nine, which he shall wield on all wretched sinners and that includes you sir, and the horns shall be on the head ... (In front of each Prophet is a Roman Guard, clearly bored but there to break up any trouble. Brian races into the market place. A bunch of Romans are searching the square roughly turning over baskets and shaking down Passers-by. Brian appears near a rather dull little Prophet, who is standing underneath the high window that backs out of Matthias' house, the revolutionary HQ.) Boring Prophet: And there shall in that time be rumours of things going astray, and there will be a great confusion as to where things really are, and nobody will really know where lieth those little things with the sort of raffia work base, that has an attachment that will not be there. (Across the square the Romans appear, searching. Brian spots Harry, the beard seller, and moves towards his stall, an idea forming in his mind.) (The Boring Prophet drones on and on:) At this time a friend shall lose his friends's hammer and the young shall not know where lieth the things possessed by their fathers that their fathers put there only just the night before.... (Brian runs up to Harry the beard seller's stall and hurriedly grabs an artificial beard.) Brian: How much? Quick! Harry: What? Brian: It's for the wife. Harry: Oh. Twenty shekels. Brian: Right. Harry: What? Brian: (putting down 20 shekels) There you are. Harry: Wait a moment. Brian: What? Harry: We're supposed to haggle. Brian: No, no, I've got to ... Harry: What do you mean, no? Brian: I haven't time, I've got to get ... Harry: Give it back then. Brian: No, no, I paid you. Harry: Burt! (Burt appears. He is very big.) Burt: Yeah? Harry: This bloke won't haggle. Burt: (looking around) Where are the guards? Brian: Oh, all right ... I mean do we have to ... Harry: Now I want twenty for that ... Brian: I gave you twenty. Harry: Now are you telling me that's not worth twenty shekels? Brian: No. Harry: Feel the quality, that's none of yer goat. Brian: Oh ... I'll give you nineteen then. Harry: No, no. Do it properly. Brian: What? Harry: Haggle properly. This isn't worth nineteen. Brian: You just said it was worth twenty. Harry: Burt!! Brian: I'll give you ten. Harry: That's more like it. (outraged) Ten!? Are you trying to insult me? Me? With a poor dying grandmother...Ten!?! Brian: Eleven. Harry: Now you're getting it. Eleven!?! Did I hear you right? Eleven? This cost me twelve. You want to ruin me? Brian: Seventeen. Harry: Seventeen! Brian: Eighteen? Harry: No, no, no. You go to fourteen now. Brian: Fourteen. Harry: Fourteen, are you joking? Brian: That's what you told me to say. (Harry registers total despair.) Tell me what to say. Please. Harry: Offer me fourteen. Brian: I'll give you fourteen. Harry: (to onlookers) He's offering me fourteen for this! Brian: Fifteen. Harry: Seventeen. My last word. I won't take a penny less, or strike me dead. Brian: Sixteen. Harry: Done. (He grasps Brian's hand and shakes it.) Nice to do business with you. Tell you what, I'll throw in this as well. (He gives Brian a gourd.) Brian: I don't want it, but thanks. Harry: Burt! Burt: (reappearing rapidly) Yes? Brian: All right! All right!! Thank you. Harry: Where's the sixteen then? Brian: I already gave you twenty. Harry: Oh yes ... that's four I owe you then. (starts looking for change) Brian: It's all right, it doesn't matter. Harry: Hang on. (Pause as Harry can't find change. Brian sees a pair of prowling Romans.) Brian: It's all right, that's four for the gourd -- that's fine! Harry: Four for the gourd. Four!!!! Look at it, that's worth ten if it's worth a shekel. Brian: You just gave it to me for nothing. Harry: Yes, but it's *worth* ten. Brian: All right, all right. Harry: No, no, no. It's not worth ten. You're supposed to argue. "What? Ten for that, you must be mad!" (Brian pays ten, runs off with the gourd, and fixes the beard on his face.) Ah, well there's one born every minute.