Two young fellows were talking about their girls, girls, girls,
Sweethearts they’d left behind...
_(From a corner the morning hours run out, goldhaired, slimsandalled,
in girlish blue, waspwaisted, with innocent hands. Nimbly they dance,
twirling their skipping ropes. The hours of noon follow in amber gold.
Laughing, linked, high haircombs flashing, they catch the sun in
mocking mirrors, lifting their arms.)_
MAGINNI: _(Clipclaps glovesilent hands.) Carré! Avant deux!_ Breathe
evenly! _Balance!_
_(The morning and noon hours waltz in their places, turning, advancing
to each other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis. Cavaliers behind
them arch and suspend their arms, with hands descending to, touching,
rising from their shoulders.)_
HOURS: You may touch my.
CAVALIERS: May I touch your?
HOURS: O, but lightly!
CAVALIERS: O, so lightly!