Air, Zeus's chamber, or the Foot of Time?

(_A flute is played behind the scenes_.)

DIO. Hist!

XAN. What's the matter.

DIO. Didn't you hear it?

XAN. What?

DIO. The breath of flutes.

XAN. Aye, and a whiff of torches
Breathed o'er me too; a very mystic whiff.

DIO. Then crouch we down, and mark what's going on.

CHORUS. (_In the distance_.) O Iacchus! O Iacchus! O Iacchus!

XAN. I have it, master: 'tis those blessed Mystics,
Of whom he told us, sporting hereabouts.
They sing the Iacchus which Diagoras made.

DIO. I think so too: we had better both keep quiet
And so find out exactly what it is.

(_The calling forth of Iacchus_.)