And so he plays his part. The sixth stage slips
Into the lean and slippery pantaloon,
With icicle on nose, and stick in hand,
His India-rubber shoes a world too large
For his shrunk feet; and his poor trembling knees
Straggling apart like childish helplessness,
He tumbles on the ground! Last scene of all
That ends this cold and frosty history
Is a sharp wind—upsetting everyone,
Sans stick, sans cloak, sans hat, sans everything.