Would soon restore me. I'm the true cameleon,
And live but on the atmosphere;[196] your feasts220
In castle halls, and social banquets, nurse not
My spirit—I'm a forester and breather
Of the steep mountain-tops,[197] where I love all
The eagle loves.
Ida.Except his prey, I hope.
Ulr. Sweet Ida, wish me a fair chase, and I
Will bring you six boars' heads for trophies home.
Ida. And will you not stay, then? You shall not go!