The composer himself played the harpsichord parts on this first occasion, and the audience seems to have consisted, as is usual in such cases, of the parents and friends of the young performers. The entertainment was pronounced an unqualified success, and it would indeed have been a crabbed auditor who could have remained unmoved while Queen Dido confided the story of her love to her trusty Belinda, or listened to the protestations of the faithless Æneas. Bands of shepherds and shepherdesses, enchanters and sorceresses, varied the solo parts with choral song and dance, and towards the close came that incomparable death-song, the exquisite pathos and beauty of which still strike home to every listener. "Remember me," sings the forsaken and dying queen to her faithful Belinda, "but oh, forget my fate!" Mr. Fuller Maitland says in connection with this song:-- "It is an inspiration that has never been surpassed for pathos and direct emotional appeal. It was this directness of expression rather than his erudition that raised Purcell to that supreme place among English composers which has never been disputed. The very quality of broad choral effect which has been most admired in Händel's work was that in which Purcell most clearly anticipated him. In actual melodic beauty Purcell's airs are at least on a level with Händel's." At the close of the performance, the Lady Dorothy Burk, one of the young gentlewomen of Mr. Josias Priest's school, recited an epilogue, written for her by Thomas D'Urfey. It is too long to quote entire, but the following extracts from it may interest our girls of to-day. "All that we know the Angels do above, I've read, is that they Sing and that they Love. The Vocal part we have to-night perform'd: And if by Love our Hearts not yet are warm'd, Great Providence has still more bounteous been To save us from those grand Deceivers, Men. Here blest with Innocence, and peace of Mind, Not only bred to Virtue, but inclin'd; We flourish and defie all human kind. * * * * * We hope to please, but if some Critick here. Fond of his Wit, designs to be severe, Let not his Patience be worn out too soon, And in few years we shall be all in Tune."