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!
Ha! Ha! Ha!
But why?

PIERROT: But why?--well, as to that, my dear,
I cannot say. It's just a matter of form.

COLUMBINE: Pierrot, I'm getting tired of caviar
And peacocks' livers. Isn't there something else
That people eat?--some humble vegetable,
That grows in the ground?

PIERROT: Well, there are mushrooms.

COLUMBINE: Mushrooms!
That's so! I had forgotten . . .