Word: clowned
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...response to the enthusiastic yells of the Freshmen, the Clown sang a charming little melody entitled "Xanthippe and I are out," written expressly for him by a celebrated composer whose name we are not at liberty to disclose...
...performance opened with a sprightly dialogue between Cebes and the inimitable Clown. After a few side-splitting mathematical conundrums, Socrates in his most facetious manner asked Cebes, "Would you not be cautious in affirming that the addition of 1 to 1, or the division of 1, is the cause of 2?" * Cebes, after mature deliberation, gave it up, whereupon the Clown convulsed the audience by the following witty reply: "Then you would loudly asseverate that you know of no way in which anything comes into existence except by participation in its own proper essence, and consequently...
...fiery steed Bucephalus. Alexander threw a somersault in the air and landed on the head of Bucephalus, after which Bucephalus threw a somersault in the air and landed upon the head of Alexander. Horse and rider then threw simultaneous somersaults through tissue-paper hoops held by the Clown, with such agility that Diogenes was heard to observe, "If I were not Alexander, I should wish to be Bucephalus." The Highland Fling performed on a tight rope by the nine Muses followed these equestrian feats. The band accompanied the dancers with the tune "One little, two little, three little Injuns...
Cebes and Socrates had just begun a mirthful controversy in regard to the infinity of the absolute, when the Clown was observed to stammer and turn pale...
...Freshmen were beginning to call "More," when a sight met their eyes that froze their very marrow with terror. Following the eyes of the Clown towards the centre of the theatre, they beheld coming down the middle aisle, spectacled and grim, Xanthippe. With a bound she cleared the rope surrounding the ring, and striding up to her no longer jocund spouse, regarded him with a contemptuous stare. Cebes, muttering something about an engagement elsewhere, retired from the ring, leaving the unfortunate Clown to his fate. Socrates raised his hand with a deprecatory gesture, murmuring, "Really, my dear...