Columbine: I was very sorry for him.
Harlequin (to Audience): Your elbow’s near and yet you can’t bite it!
Columbine: He was weeping and crying: “Why the devil did I preserve my strength?” And I answered him: “I have respect for your wrinkles, but not passion.”
Harlequin: But you know, Columbine, he is younger than I, though twice as old in years.
Columbine: I don’t understand you.
Harlequin: Because you haven’t meditated on real old age. (Tapping Pierrot on shoulder.) But why aren’t you drinking or eating and taking part in our conversation ?
Columbine: He wants to depress us, but he shan’t, the good-for-nothing!
Pierrot (weeping): You don’t understand, poor thing, that Harlequin’s dying.
Columbine: Dying? You horrid thing! Or have you put poison in our glasses? No, no (contemptuously); men like you aren’t capable of that.
Pierrot (all in tears): Poor Harlequin, your minutes are numbered!
Columbine: What’s he say? What’s he making up?
