The ladies rise at cockcrow every morn—
Hilar. Oh, then they have male poultry!
Gobbo.Not at all.
(confidentially.) The crowing’s done by an accomplished hen!
Cyril. And what are these? (Looking at robes in lodge.)
Gobbo.The academic robes,
Worn by the lady undergraduates
When they matriculate.
Hilar.I’ll try one on. (Does so.)
Why, see—I’m covered to the very toes!