ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.

Or you shall hear from me without delay—
PLu. (Running in.) None of your airs, old fellow—drop it, pray.
Orp. My wite, then—

PLv. Here she comes.

Enter EvRYDICE.

 

Orp. My lost Eurydice!
EvR. My minstrel boy!

Orp. Pack up your things!

PLU. Oh, yes—by all means pack!
Eur. And have you really come to take me back ?

Orp. (Zo PiuTo.) She need n’t stop?

PLv. Not e’en to tea or sup;

She ’s quite a riddle—so I give her up.

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