everything! We cannot help giving vent to our joy.
Oh! cruel fate! My friends! in the name of the gods, what
possesses you? Your dancing will wreck the success of a fine
It's not I who want to dance; it's my legs that bound with
Enough, please, cease your gambols.
You say so, and nevertheless you go on.
Yet one more figure and it's done.
Well, just this one; then you must dance no more.