Crassus.
I fear him.
Anica.
Go and Ile there, at his feet.
Lie supine! Lie on that moss-covered root,
While I draw forth the flute
And make a marvellous music.
[She ceases laughing and begins to play.
Crassus.
O I writhe
Beneath the force oflips, of fingers lithe
‘That touch the delicate stops so delicately.
Auicia.
Hush!
T have drawn the bird from the bush.
Pan will appear anon.
CRassy
An! Abt... Ahl Ahl
Arca.
This music moves you. Now I'll play a tune
That would make mad the melancholy moon.
This.
a2