And make a marvellous music.
[She ceases laughing and begins to play.]

CRASSUS.
O I writhe
Beneath the force of lips, of fingers lithe
That touch the delicate stops so delicately.

ALICIA.
Hush!
I have drawn the bird from the bush.
Pan will appear anon.

CRASSUS.
Ah! Ah! ... Ah! Ah!

ALICIA.
This music moves you. Now I'll play a tune
That would make mad the melancholy moon.
This.

CRASSUS.
Ah! you tear my soul out with the trills.
Your fingers play like summer lightning on the shaft.
It is like a storm on the mountains when it shrills;
Like the angry sea when it booms. Hark!

ALICIA.
Some god laughed.