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ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.

T’ll play a waltz—
PLU. Oh, heavens! mind your stops;

I hate all dances, though the son of Ops.

[ORPHEUS plays.

Monstrum horrendum—cease thy painful twingings —
Direst machine of all informe ingens !

Behold me kneeling by your side—who would n’t
Kneel e’en by Jupiter’s. By Jove! I could n't.

See, I turn suppliant—I—Ammon’s brother !

Ore. For that good turn—I’ll treat you with another.
| Grinds.

 

PLu. Hold! I give in—'tis useless to rebel.

Orr. It must be so. Pluto, thou reason’st well.