PIERROT: La, what a woman!—how should I know? Pour me some wine: I'll tell you presently.
COLUMBINE: Pierrot, do you know, I think you drink too much.
PIERROT: Yes, I dare say I do. . . . Or else too little. It's hard to tell. You see, I am always wanting A little more than what I have,—or else A little less. There's something wrong. My dear, How many fingers have you?
COLUMBINE: La, indeed, How should I know?—It always takes me one hand To count the other with. It's too confusing. Why?
PIERROT: Why?—I am a student, Columbine; And search into all matters.
COLUMBINE: La, indeed?— Count them yourself, then!
PIERROT: No. Or, rather, nay. 'Tis of no consequence. . . . I am become A painter, suddenly,—and you impress me— Ah, yes!—six orange bull's-eyes, four green pin-wheels, And one magenta jelly-roll,—the title As follows: Woman Taking in Cheese from Fire-Escape.
COLUMBINE: Well, I like that! So that is all I've meant To you!
PIERROT: Hush! All at once I am become A pianist. I will image you in sound. . . . On a new scale. . . , Without tonality. . . Vivace senza tempo senza tutto. . . . Title: Uptown Express at Six O'Clock. Pour me a drink.
COLUMBINE: Pierrot, you work too hard. You need a rest. Come on out into the garden, And sing me something sad.