Lindsey Graham

You realize you've left your audience bewildered.

Poe's lips curl into a bitter smile.

Perhaps that was the point.

You stare at him in disbelief.

You were invited here to showcase your talents, not to mock your audience, sir.

I don't care about the opinions of a Boston audience.

Are you not a native son of Boston?

Yes, I was born in Boston, much to my eternal shame.

Their pumpkin pies are delicious.

Their poetry is not so good.

How charming to refer to your hosts with such contempt.

I understand you were paid $50 to perform here tonight.

Yes, a measly fifty dollars, and that tells you what the Boston literati think of my work.

If they're going to insult me like that, then my childhood scribblings are all they deserve.

Mr. Poe, you have many admirers, myself among them, but you are not above reproach.

Some are even saying your talents are wasted.

Stunts like this will only damage your reputation and alienate your supporters.

There's a glimmer of pain in Poe's eyes, and he takes a deep sigh.

I don't expect everyone to understand my work, so let them scorn me.

I welcome it.