[Scene: A stage]    [The curtain rises on a stage set for a Harlequinade, a merry    black and white interior. Directly behind the footlights, and    running parallel with them, is a long table, covered with a gay    black and white cloth, on which is spread a banquet. At the    opposite ends of this table, seated on delicate thin-legged    chairs with high backs, are Pierrot and Columbine, dressed    according to the tradition, excepting that Pierrot is in lilac,    and Columbine in pink. They are dining.] COLUMBINE: Pierrot, a macaroon! I cannot live without a macaroon! PIERROT: My only love, You are so intense! . . . Is it Tuesday, Columbine?— I'll kiss you if it's Tuesday. COLUMBINE: It is Wednesday, If you must know . . . . Is this my artichoke, Or yours? PIERROT: Ah, Columbine,—as if it mattered! Wednesday . . . . Will it be Tuesday, then, to-morrow, By any chance? COLUMBINE: To-morrow will be—Pierrot, That isn't funny! PIERROT: I thought it rather nice. Well, let us drink some wine and lose our heads And love each other. COLUMBINE: Pierrot, don't you love Me now? 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! - from Amzon