PANTOMIME.

PIERROT, no sentimental swain, Washes a pâté down again With furtive flagons, white and red.

Cassandre, to chasten his content, Greets with a tear of sentiment His nephew disinherited.

That blackguard of a Harlequin Pirouettes, and plots to win His Colombine that flits and flies.

Colombine dreams, and starts to find A sad heart sighing in the wind, And in her heart a voice that sighs.