Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 3.pdf/125

Rh

Dost thou not know my voice?

Or. 'Tis like an old tune to my ear return'd. For there be those, who sit in cheerful halls, And breathe sweet air, and speak with pleasant sounds; And once I liv'd with such; some years gone by; I wot not now how long.

And one whose faith was pledged for thy protection.

Returns upon her with the well-known sound Of voices once familiar to her ear. Let Alice sing to her some fav'rite tune, That may lost thoughts recall.

Or. Ha, ha! the witched air sings for thee bravely. Hoot owls thro' mantling fog for mattin birds? It lures not me.—I know thee well enough: The bones of murder'd men thy measure beat, And fleshless heads nod to thee.—Off, I say! Why are ye here?—That is the blessed sun.

El. Ah, Orra! do not look upon us thus! These are the voices of thy loving friends