Murder, Discord, and Hate,
In the stormy desolate waves
Of the Thracian Sea let her leave,
Or the howling outermost main!
[Merope comes forth.
MEROPE.
A whisper through the palace flies of one
Arrived from Tegea with weighty news;
And I came, thinking to find Arcas here.
Ye have not left this gate, which he must pass;
Tell me—hath one not come? or, worse mischance,
Come, but been intercepted by the King?
THE CHORUS.
A messenger, sent from Arcadia here,
Arrived, and of the King had speech but now.
MEROPE.
Ah me! the wrong expectant got his news.
THE CHORUS.
The message brought was for the King design'd.
MEROPE.
How so? was Areas not the messenger?
THE CHORUS.
A younger man, and of a different name.
MEROPE.
And what Arcadian news had he to tell?
