Aria da Capo

Excerpt

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!

PIERROT: 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.

COLUMBINE: Well, I like that! So that is all I've meant To you!

PIERROT: Hush! All at once I am become A pianist. I will image you in sound. . . . On a new scale. . . , Without tonality. . . Vivace senza tempo senza tutto. . . . Title: Uptown Express at Six O'Clock. Pour me a drink.

COLUMBINE: Pierrot, you work too hard. You need a rest. Come on out into the garden, And sing me something sad.

PIERROT: Don't stand so near me! I am become a socialist. I love Humanity; but I hate people. Columbine, Put on your mittens, child; your hands are cold.

COLUMBINE: My hands are not cold!

PIERROT: Oh, I am sure they are. And you must have a shawl to wrap about you, And sit by the fire.

COLUMBINE: Why, I'll do no such thing! I'm hot as a spoon in a teacup!

PIERROT: Columbine, I'm a philanthropist. I know I am, Because I feel so restless. Do not scream, Or it will be the worse for you!

COLUMBINE: Pierrot, My vinaigrette! I cannot live without My vinaigrette!

PIERROT: My only love, you are So fundamental! . . . How would you like to be An actress, Columbine?—I am become Your manager.

COLUMBINE: Why, Pierrot, I can't act.

PIERROT: Can't act! Can't act! La, listen to the woman! What's that to do with the price of furs?—You're blonde, Are you not?—you have no education, have you?— Can't act! You underrate yourself, my dear!

COLUMBINE: Yes, I suppose I do.

PIERROT: As for the rest, I'll teach you how to cry, and how to die, And other little tricks; and the house will love you. You'll be a star by five o'clock . . . that is, If you will let me pay for your apartment.

COLUMBINE: Let you?—well, that's a good one!...