Page:Miscellaneous Plays 1.pdf/339

SCENE II. A small narrow Street, before a private sombre-looking house.

Enter Othus and Rodrigo.

 

OTHUS.

Move slowly here, for now we pass the fane

In which the mystic vision-seeing sage
To ears of faith speaks his wild oracles.

RODRIGO.

What, he of whom we've heard such marvellous things?

OTHUS.

Yes; such perturbed times his harvest prove,

When anxious minds, in dread of coming ill,
Would draw aside, impatiently, the veil
Of dark futurity.—Softly, I pray:
A female form now issues from the door:
It moves, methinks, like Ella.

Enter Ella from the house with a female Attendant.

RODRIGO (eagerly).

It is herself, and I will speak to her.

Fair maid, as well I guess by that light trip,
Thy lover's fate hangs on a lucky thread;
Tough, and well whiten'd in a kindly sun.