And silver me with kisses!
Luna
(Fleeing from his outstretched arms, but regarding him invitingly over her shoulder.)
Fie, you wine-skin!
A hiccough’s not a tempest! Lo, I glide,
Treading a myriad stars!
(Neptune follows with a rolling gait.)
A Satyr
(Looking after them as they disappear.)
Roll, eager Tide!