Colu. To-morrow will be—Pierrot,
That isn't funny!
Pier. I thought it rather nice.
Well, let us drink some wine and lose our heads
And love each other.
Colu. Pierrot, don't you love
Me now?
Pier. La, what a woman!—How should I know?
Pour me some wine: I'll tell you presently.
Colu. Pierrot, do you know, I think you drink too much.
Pier. 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?
Colu. La, indeed,
How should I know?—It always takes me one hand
To count the other with. It's too confusing.
Why?
Pier. Why?—I am a student, Columbine;
And search into all matters.
Colu. La, indeed?—
Count them yourself, then!
Pier. 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.