We are players, your Highness, mountebanks commanded for the pleasure of the Queen.
[The Duchess has grown very white and is standing with her hand pressing her heart.]
Duchess
What was that tune he played upon his flute, and what dreadful thing was the matter with him?
Prince
I do not know, but as she walked by her face was beautiful. It was like a prayer coming into the presence of God.
Duchess [regarding the Prince sharply]
Really? What can be speaking in you? Surely not yourself?
[She laughs shrilly and exits. The flute continues to play. The Prince absorbed, unheeding her departure, stands looking after the mountebanks.]
CURTAIN