Cavort

There once was a tiny sprite, much loved by children. She would frolic with the birds and the beasts in the forest, and sing songs, or play her flute; sometimes, she would visit the village, where the humans lived, and cavort with her favorite boys and girls.

[…] when the young man whirled his horse, “hazed” Jupiter in circles and belaboured him with a rawhide quirt, […] He ceased his cavortings […]

And dragon-flies sported around and cavorted, / As poets say dragon-flies ought to do; […]

He whirligigged and pirouetted, dancing and cavorting round like an inebriated ape.

[…]and soon a high-spirited snowball fight was being waged by dozens of happy, hyperkinetic boys cavorting in dungarees and T-shirts, in sweatsuits, in pajamas, even some in only underwear.

They descended by the tens of thousands on Britain’s southern beaches and jammed into city parks. They cavorted by the hundreds in streams.

[…] while a woman in a bright red coat cavorts through a crosswalk with what appears to be an impeccably groomed Afghan hound.

We can't even write stories about moguls like Rupert Murdoch or Barry Diller unless it involves photographs of them cavorting with young flesh.