LULU. (Sprinkling him.) It would call you back to life again!

LULU.

SCHIGOLCH. We are mud.

SCHIGOLCH.

LULU. I beg your pardon! I rub grease into myself every day and then powder on top of it.

LULU.

SCHIGOLCH. Probably worth while, too, on the dressed-up mucker's account.

SCHIGOLCH.

LULU. It makes the skin like satin.

LULU.

SCHIGOLCH. As if it weren't just dirt all the same!

SCHIGOLCH.

LULU. Thank you. I wish to be worth biting at!

LULU.

SCHIGOLCH. We are. Give a big dinner down below there pretty soon. Keep open house.

SCHIGOLCH.

LULU. Your guests will hardly over-eat themselves at it.

LULU.

SCHIGOLCH. Patience, girl! Your worshippers won't put you in alcohol, either. It's "schöne Melusine" as long as it keeps buoyant. Afterwards? They don't take it at the zoölogical garden. (Rising.) The gentle beasties might get stomach-cramps.

SCHIGOLCH.

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