Zay.Or dance?
Lut.I do not dance.
Zay. Then let us float on yonder silver stream (they rise),
Or plunge headlong into its mossy depths,
And wander, hand in hand, from grot to grot;
Or, if thou wilt, I’ll whirl thee through the air,
And light with thee on yon tall pinnacle.
Come, Lutin—take my hand, and we’ll away!
Lut. Don’t be ridiculous! I do not fly!
You’re very good—you mean it well, I know—