The Scene is fuppofed to lie in a Tomb near the city of Ephefus. A Lamp burning; on one fide a dead Body. The Matron clafping her Husband's Corps; her Father and her Maid endeavouring to force her away.

T R I 0,

Mat. HENCE, hence! away; in vain you ftrive
To tear me from my dear dead man;

His wife I am, dead or alive,

My love fhall end where it began,

Fath

Fath. But daughter

Maid. Mistress

Mat. Grief, O grief!

1. 2. Will staying here bring him relief?
To molder with him in the grave
Is killing two.

Mat. Adieu, adieu;

To die with him is all I crave.

1. 2. Some comfort take

Mat. My heart will break.

1. 2. And with us go,
Mat. No, no, no, no.
Oh, oh, oh, oh!

1. 2. You fhall, you must.

Mat. No, his dear duft

By me shall never be deserted;
But here I'll stay,

Both night and day,

Till Death has join'd whom Death hath parted. Fath. Well, daughter, fince intreaties all are vain, And ftill your purpose you maintain

To give a fample

Of nuptial love,

And fo to prove

To future wives a rare example,

I leave you to your

fate.

The fad but glorious work complete;

And fince all elfe your conftancy denies,

When Death, as foon he muft, hath clos'd your eyes,

Your weeping father shall return.

You cannot hinder him to mourn

And with due rites perform your obfequies.

A I R.

But more- -A monument I'll raife,

Where, facred to your endless praise,
This juft infcription fhall be read;
"Nipt in the flow'r of charms and youth,
"A miracle of female truth

"Lies here inroll'd among the dead.
"Stop traveller, and, drawing near,
"Beftow the tribute of a tear.

"Death

"Death fnatch'd her confort from her fide;
"She lov'd, fhe forrow'd, and fhe died.

SCENE II.

Matron, Maid.

Mat. At length we're left alone,
And the fad widow may indulge her moan.
Receive me, earth, upon thy flinty breast,
Helpless, forlorn, undone, with pain opprest:
A I R.

And while, grown frantic with my woes,
I beat my bofom, tear my hair,
Come, ye furies; come, defpair;
And grief that never comfort knows;
horrors here display;

All

your

Nor thou, O Death! be long away.

Maid. So, there fhe lies upon the floor! There never was fuch madness fure.

And will you, in the dreary gloom

Of this unwholesome tomb,

In fighs and tears your life confume?

Mat. What fhou'd a wretched widow do Maid. You're young and handsome yet, And might another husband get;

Ay, that

you might

or two.

Mat. No, no, death prefer.

Maid. The more fool

you.

Mat. This only I entreat, my faithful maid, That with me here you'll ftay,

And fee my breathlefs clay,

When I am dead, by my dear husband laid.

Maid. Well, Madam, fince I muft I will.

But give me leave to say,

You'd better change your purpose ftill.

And act a wifer way.

If I was a wife, and my dearest dear life

Took it into his noddle to die,

E'er I took the whim to be buried with him,
I think I'd know very well why.

If

If poignant my grief, I'd fearch for relief,
Nor fink with the weight of my care;

A falve might be found, no doubt, above ground,
And I think I know very well where.

Another kind mate fhou'd give me what Fate
Wou'd not from the former allow :
With him I'd amufe, the hours you abuse,
And I think I'd know very well how.

"Tis true I'm a maid, and fo't may be faid

No judge of the conjugal lot;

Yet marriage, I ween, has a cure for the spleen,
And I think I know very well what.

SCENE III.

The Centurion, Maid, and Matron on the Ground by her Hufband's Body.

Cent. Ho, who's there below?

Maid. Blefs us! I fhall die with fear!

A man defcends into the cave!

What fhall our lives our honours fave!

Cent. Hey, who the devil have we here?
Maid. A handsome fellow, never ftir!
Cent. Speak.

Maid. Two fad women, worthy Sir.

fee :

A Matron, and my mittress she
Who there upon the ground you
Her confort dy'd fome days ago,
Which griev'd the poor dear lady fo,
That, being here last night interr'd-
1 think the like was never heard-
She wou'd needs be buried too.
And now, Sir, tell me who are you ?
Cent. A foldier-ftanding at my post,
To guard yon gibbets on the coast,
I faw a light, and hither came,

Directed by the glimmering flame.

Maid. My mistress, Sir, is much to blame,
Noble, and rich, and young, and fair-
Cent. Her character is fomething rare.
Soft-hearken-yes

fhe draws her breath.

Maid. Befides the's almoft ftarv'd to death.

Two

Two days fhe has not eat a bit.

Cent. I'll roufe her from this defp'rate fit.]

The Centurion, Maid, and Matron rifing from the

Ground.

Mat. Who'd comfort to a wretch afford?

Gone near half way to meet my lord,

You fetch me back.

Maid. Upon my word

I'm very glad your journey's ftopt.

Cent. Fair creature, gentler thoughts adopt; You have fulfill'd your nuptial vow;

To yourself do justice now;

Nor facrifice, by cruel wrong,

A nymph fo handfome and fo young.

Maid. The rogue has a bewitching tongue.
Mat. He's very good I muft allow,

To take a widow's part fo kindly.

Cent. Then follow not deftruction blindly; Nor the gifts of Heav'n abuse,

But eat and live.

Mat. Indeed I swore
Never to taste a morfel more :
But fince thro' pity you intrude
VOL. VI.

E