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.