University of Virginia Library


23

INTERLUDE III.

SCENE, a Solitude.
Enter Orpheus.
Orph.
Eurydice! The Image of thy Charms
Dwells here, and will for ever dwell.

[Sits down and plays on his Lyre; and while he is playing, the barren Mountain changes by Degrees into a pleasant Hill. Trees arise, and form a Bower over the Head of Orpheus.

24

Enter Rhodope.
Rho.
Orpheus, behold, once more a Queen attends,
To share thy Sorrow, tho' deny'd thy Love.

Orph.
Ha! Rhodope!
Blast not my Eyes with thy detested Presence.
In Hell thy killing Malice stands disclos'd;
Thro' thee, and by thy curs'd Command,
The fatal Wound was given to my Eurydice.

Rho.
If yet thy Heart's susceptible of Pity,
Forgive a Crime
Which Love, and only Love inspir'd.

Orph.
Fell Murthress, never; and for thy curs'd Sake,
All thy Sex I'll hate.
Live, and love on; in Torments live,
And wither with Despair.
'Twill feast my Soul; and pleas'd Revenge
Shall triumph in thy Pains.

[Exit.
Rho.
Mistaken, foolish, idle Wretch, farewel.
Too late, alas, the dread Effects thou'lt feel,
And rue, in Death, thy insolent Disdain.
For soon the Bacchanalian Train,
Whose Rites thou didst prophane,
Will strike the Blow,—

25

T'avenge their injur'd God and me.
What sudden Cold thrills thro' my Veins!
What Shiverings seize me!
Perhaps, even now the Stroke is given.
[Shouts are heard.
Ah! Hark!—What hideous Noise!
O Love, prevent the Doom.

[Runs out.
SCENE draws and discovers Orpheus slain.
[Several Bacchants rejoycing in a triumphant Manner, bearing the Lyre and Chaplet of Orpheus.
Enter Rhodope.
Rho.
Ha! Horror blast my Eyes! The Deed is done!
The Lilly of the World is dead,
And Joy and Hope to Rhodope are lost!
Then perish, Wretch! For now to live
Is Torment more than Hell can give.
Seize me, ye Furies!—Lo, I come.
Thus my own Hand shall seal my Doom.

[Stabs herself.

26

The Comic Part continues.
[A following Scene was intended to have discover'd the mangled Body of Orpheus; but is omitted on Account of the Length of the Entertainment; in which Apollo descended, and spoke the following Words.
Apol.
Dear Offspring of the fairest Muse, thy Fate
Draws Tears cœlestial from a Father's Eye.
But Tears are vain: In Fame eternal live;
Exalted in the Skies, thy Harp shall shine
And blaze thy Glories thro' succeeding Times.
Thy Mother too, and every Sister Muse,
Shall mourn thy Fall, and consecrate thy Name:
A Theme for Songs to Ages yet unborn.
The best Reward a God can give,
Thou Offspring of a God, receive,
Thy Praise o'er vulgar Fame to soar:
The Great and Good can claim no more.

FINIS.