prince, and in convenient time, adorn'd with all the honours that have ever been conferr'd upon your noble family; 1 10 that you may be distinguish'd to posterity, as the bravest, greatest, and best man of the age you live in, is the hearty wish, and prayer of, MY LORD,

Your Grace's most obedient, and

most faithful, humble servant,
N. ROWE.

PROLOGUE; SPOKEN BY MR. Wilks.

To night, if you have brought your good old taste,
We'll treat you with a downright English feast.
A tale, which told long since in homely wise,
Hath never fail'd of melting gentle eyes:
Let no nice sir despise our hapless dame
Because recording ballads chaunt her name;
Those venerable ancient song-enditers

Soar'd many a pitch above our modern writers:
They caterwaul'd in no romantick ditty,
Sighing for Phillis's, or Chloe's pity.
Justly they drew the fair, and spoke her plain,
And sung her by her Christ'an name

Jane.

't was

Our numbers may be more refin'd than those,
But what we've gain'd in verse, we've lost in

prose.

Their words no shuffling, double-weaning knew,
Their speech was homely, but their hearts were

true.

In such an age, immortal Shakspear wrote,
By no quaint rules, nor hampering criticks taught ;

Prologue. This and the Epilogue face each other on opposite
in the 1714 A edition.

pages

4 Hath. 1714 A, Have.

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15

With rough, majestick force he mov'd the heart,
And strength, and nature made amends for art.
Our humble author does his steps pursue,

He owns he had the mighty bard in view;
And in these scenes has made it more his care
To rouse the passions than to charm the ear.
Yet for those gentle beaux who love the chime,
The end of Acts still gingle into rhime.
The ladies, too, he hopes, will not complain,
Here are some subjects for a softer strain,
A nymph forsaken, and a perjur'd swain.
What most he fears is, least the dames shou'd
frown,

The dames of wit and pleasure about town,
To see our picture drawn, unlike their own.
But lest that error shou'd provoke to fury
The hospitable hundreds of Old Drury,
He bids me say, in our Jane Shore's defence,
She dol'd about the charitable pence,

Built hospitals, turn'd saint, and dy'd long since.
For her example, whatsoe'er we make it,
They have their choice to let alone, or take it.
Tho' few, as I conceive, will think it meet
To weep so sorely for a sin so sweet;
Or mourn and mortify the pleasant sense,
To rise in tragedy two ages hence.

20

25

30

35

40

Several Lords of the Council, Guards, and Attendants.

The Tragedy

of

Jane Shore

ACT I. SCENE I.

Scene, the Tower.

Enter the Duke of Gloster, Sir Richard Ratcliffe, and

Catesby.

Gloster. Thus far success attends upon our councils,

And each event has answer'd to my wish;
The queen and all her upstart race are quell'd;
Dorset is banish'd, and her brother Rivers
'Ere this lies shorter by the head at Pomfret.
The nobles have with joint concurrence nam'd

me

Protector of the realm: my brother's children,
Young Edward and the little York, are lodg'd
Here, safe within the Tower. How say you,

sirs,

Does not this business wear a lucky face?

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