University of Virginia Library

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.
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,—
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.