THE YOUTH. Come! own up: arnt you very unhappy? It's dreadful to see you ancients going about by yourselves, never noticing anything, never dancing, never laughing, never singing, never getting anything out of life. None of us are going to be like that when we grow up. It's a dog's life.
THE ANCIENT. Not at all. You repeat that old phrase without knowing that there was once a creature on earth called a dog. Those who are interested in extinct forms of life will tell you that it loved the sound of its own voice and bounded about when it was happy, just as you are doing here. It is you, my children, who are living the dog's life.
THE YOUTH. The dog must have been a good sensible creature: it set you a very wise example. You should let yourself go occasionally and have a good time.
THE ANCIENT. My children: be content to let us ancients go our ways and enjoy ourselves in our own fashion.
He turns to go.
THE MAIDEN. But wait a moment. Why will you not tell us how you enjoy yourself? You must have secret pleasures that you hide from us, and that you never get tired of. I get tired of all our dances and all our tunes. I get tired of all my partners.
THE YOUTH [suspiciously] Do you? I shall bear that in mind.
They all look at one another as if there were some sinister significance in what she has said.
THE MAIDEN. We all do: what is the use of pretending we don't? It is natural.
SEVERAL YOUNG PEOPLE. No, no. We don't. It is not natural.