TWO SHEPHERDS.
[Speaking together.] We are your kingdom, and we worship you.
You have made us as a flock.
A YOUNG GOAT-HERD.
[With a flute.] You are secret
As the god Pan was secret to the folds.
Lord Cesare, we love you.
CESARE.
[Touching the lad’s flute.] And the flute.
[The Lad bursts into tears; one by him, his companion, says:
SHEPHERD.
He cannot sing the kings: it is in battle
When we hiss down in rage to die for them
Our blood runs music.