Swift Tryst, Fleet Trick betwixt Tall Trees, All Pleased

 
N i c h t d e r e r s t p u s e r a n u n d n i c h t d e r l e t z t e
To Emil

Calaïs is brushing his long, flowing hair.
Enter Orpheus, running.
Orpheus lies down on the ground and plays dead.
Calaïs pretends to perform funeral rites on Orpheus.

Orpheus.  My lovely boy, ten thousand times my tease!

Calaïs.  Your lovely boy, ten thousand times your tease!

Orpheus.  Presiding over me, he is above—

Calaïs.  Presiding over you, he is above—

Orpheus.  My lovely boy, ten thousand times my tease!
Presiding over me, he is above.

Calaïs.  Your lovely boy, ten thousand times your tease!
Presiding over you, he is above.

Orpheus.  My lovely boy, ten thousand times my tease!
Presiding over me, he is above;
Beholding me, he always seeks to please—

Calaïs.  Your lovely boy, ten thousand times your tease!
Presiding over you, he is above;
Beholding you, he always seeks to please—

Orpheus.  My lovely boy, ten thousand times my tease!
Presiding over me, he is above;
Beholding me, he always seeks to please,
While down below I feed to him my love.

Calaïs.  Your lovely boy, ten thousand times your tease!
Presiding over you, he is above;
Beholding you, he always seeks to please.
While down below you feed to him your love.

Enter jealous women of Thrace, running. Calaïs hides.
The women rain sticks and stones upon Orpheus.
They tear Orpheus limb from limb.

Exeunt women.

Calaïs collects Orpheus's entrails and begins to build a funeral pyre.

Calaïs.  Your lovely boy, ten thousand times your tease!
Presiding over you, by sun I'm blest;
Beholding you, I'll always seek to please,
And feed upon your love until I rest.