whose quips and quiddities we
have laughed at with infinite zest, have long since gone "to that bourne
from whence no traveller returns," and perhaps, "unwept, unhonoured, and
unsung."

On February 12, 1739, Rich produced, at Covent Garden (opened in
December 1732, with Congreve's "Way of the World"), "Orpheus and
Eurydice." On the mounting something like L2,000 were spent.

Rich devised the scenario and comic scenes. Lewis Theobald wrote the
libretto, and George Lambert--founder of the Beefsteak Club--painted the
scenery. Hippisley played Clown, Manager Rich was the Harlequin, and
Signor Grimaldi, father of the celebrated Mime, to be noted further on,
was the Pantaloon. This is the first instance of a member of the
Grimaldi family (says Mr. W.J. Lawrence) appearing in English Pantomime.

The following was the argument and the curious arrangement of the
scenes:--Interlude I.--Rhodope, Queen of Thrace, practising art magic,
makes love to Orpheus. He rejects her love. She is enraged. A serpent
appears who receives Rhodope's commands, and these ended, glides off the
stage. Here the comic part begins. In the Opera (as practically it was)
a scene takes place between Orpheus and Eurydice. Eurydice's heel is
pierced by the serpent, behind the scenes. She dies on the stage--after
which the comic part is continued. Interlude II. Scene: Hell. Pluto and
Orpheus enter. Orpheus prevails on Pluto to restore Eurydice to him.
Ascalox tells Orpheus that Eurydice shall follow him, but that if he
should look back at her before they shall have passed the bounds of
Hell, she will die again. Orpheus turns back to look for Eurydice,
Fiends carry her away. After this the comic part is resumed. Interlude
III.--Orpheus again rejects Rhodope's solicitations. Departs. The scene
draws, and discovers Orpheus slain. Several Baccants enter in a
triumphant manner. They bring in the lyre and chaplet of Orpheus.
Rhodope stabs herself. The piece concludes with the remainder of the
comic part.

"'The Scots Magazine' for March, 1740, says:--'Orpheus and Eurydice'
draws the whole town to Covent Garden, whether for the Opera itself (the
words of which are miserable stuff) or for the Pantomimical Interlude,
with which it is intermixed, I cannot determine. The music is pretty
good, and the tricks are not foolisher than usual, and some have said
that they have more meaning than most that have preceded them. The
performance is grand as to the scenery. What pl