The Falcon

A decorative rectangular woodcut border with floral and scrolling motifs surrounds the initial dialogue and the song title "AIR."

I would rather not sing; for I will never be able
to break the habit.

Sing.

There was a Shepherd so sad,
That he afflicted the whole hamlet, oh, oh.
One could track him by his footprints,
His eyes flowed like a stream, oh, oh.
Shepherd, what is it that saddens you,
And why are you melting into water? oh, oh.
Did some big wolf unexpectedly
Eat your flock? oh, oh.
No, no, it is because I love Caliste,
Caliste, that object so beautiful, oh, oh.

Be quiet.

I do this only to cheer you up. Ah, My Lord, do not despair of your happiness; I have an idea that you will have some. I had a dream, ah, what a dream! And if it would not trouble you for me to speak, I would tell you something.

Speak, or be quiet, it matters little to me.

Ah, My Lord, you know, or you do not know, (for you do not inquire much about this:) you know that you once had in your service Jaquot Picolet, who was your Intendant. Now, Picolet had his father; his father has been on a journey under your protection, and then he returned last Saturday. The first thing he did upon arriving was to dismount from his horse, and then to beat with a stick his son, who was your Intendant, who bought your land under the table, and who had himself received as Lord, so much so that the Bailiff had trouble restraining himself every time he greeted him. He said that his hat wanted to escape from his hands and slap the face of Jaquot Picolet, who was my comrade (I saw him big like this); but that is not all. He had himself awarded this land for very little, for nothing, because there were lost papers, and that through the means of his uncle, who was a Prosecutor, and who confessed it while dying. Now, these lost papers were not lost for everyone; Jaquot Picolet found them where they were: he did not believe that you would ever come so far from the Court to this farm, which, thanks to God and your grandfather, has been substituted to his children, that is to say, yours... But yours, good! Now, without this little estate... (Good! I dropped a stitch) now these papers that I was telling you about put you back in possession of more than fifteen villages. That goes more than five leagues from here, up to the territory of Madame Clitie.