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Alic. Nay! tell not me! Where is thy king, J. Sh. Ah, Belmour! where indeed? They thy Edward,

stand aloof, And all the smiling cringing train of courtiers, And view my desolation from afar ! That bent the knee before thee?

When they pass by, they shake their heads in J. Sh. Oh! for mercy!

scorn, Alic. Mercy! I know it not-for I am miser. And cry, behold the harlot and her end! able.

And yet thy goodness turns aside to pity me. I'll give thee misery, for here she dwells; Alas! there may be danger; get thee gone! This is her house, where the sun never dawns; Let me not pull a ruin on thy head. The bird of night sits screaming o'er the roof, Leave me to die alone, for l'am fallen Grim spectres sweep along the horrid gloom, Never to rise, and all relief is vain. And nought is heard but wailings and lament Bel. Yet raise thy drooping head; for I am ings.

come Hark! something cracks above! it shakes, it To chase away despair. Behold! where yonder totters !

That honest man, that faithful, brave Dumont, And see, the nodding ruin falls to crush me! Is hasting to thy aid 'Tis fallen, 'tis here! I felt it on my brain !

J. Sh. Dumont! ha! where! 1 Ser. This sight disorders her

[Raising herself, and looking aghast. 2 Ser. Retire, dear lady

Then Heaven has heard my prayer; his very And leave this woman

name Alic. Let her take my counsel:

Renews the springs of life, and cheers my soul. Why shouldst thou be a wretch? Stab, tear thy Has he then 'scaped the snare? heart,

Bel. He has; but seeAnd rid thyself of this detested being!

He comes unlike to that Dumont you knew; I will not linger long behind thee here.

For now he wears your better angel's form, A waving flood of bluish fire swells o’er me And comes to visit you with peace and pardon. And now 'tis out, and I am drown’d in blood. Ha! what art thou ? thou horrid headless

Enter SHORE, trunk

J. Sh. Speak, tell me! Which is he? And ha! It is my Hastings ! see, he wafts me on!

what would Away! I go, I fy! I follow thee!

This dreadful vision ! see it comes upon me But come not thou, with mischief-making beauty, It is my husband Ab!

(She sadons. To interpose between us ! look not on him! Sh. She faints ! support her! Give thy fond arts and thy delusions o'er, Sustain her head, while I infuse this cordial For thou shalt never, never part us more. Into her dying lips-from spicy drugs,

[She runs off, her servants following. Rich herbs and flowers, the potent juice is J. Sh. Alas! she raves ; her brain, I fear, is

drawn; turned.

With wondrous force it strikes the lazy spirits, In mercy look upon her, gracious Heaven, Drives them around, and wakens life anew. Nor visit her for any wrong to me.

Bel. Her weakness could not bear the strong Sure I am near upon my journey's end;

surprise. My head runs round, my eyes begin to fail

, But see, she stirs ! And the returning blood And dancing shadows swim before my sight. Faintly begins to blush again, and kindle I can no more. [Lies down.] Receive me, thou Upon her ashy cheekcold earth,

Sh. So-gently raise her- (Raising her up. Thou common parent, take me to thy bosom, J. Sh. Ha! What art thou? Belmour! And let me rest with thee.

Bel. How fare you, lady?

J. Sh. My heart is thrilled with horrorEnter BELMOUR.

Bel. Be of courageBel. Upon the ground!

Your husband lives! 'tis he, my worthiest Thy miseries can never lay thee lower.

friend Look thou poor

afflicted one! thou mourner, J. Sh. Still art thou there! Still dost thou hoWhom none has comforted! Where are thy

ver round me! friends,

Oh, save me, Belmour, from his angry shade! The dear companions of thy joyful days,

Bel. 'Tis he himself! he lives! look up Whose hearts thy warm prosperity made glad, J. Sh. I dare not! Whose arms were taught to grow like ivy round Oh! that my eyes could shut him out for ever! thee,

Sh. Am I so hateful, then, so deadly to thee, And bind thee to their bosoms? Thus with To blast thy eyes with horror? Since I'm grown thee,

A burthen to the world, myself, and thee, Thus let us live, and let us die, they said, Would I had ne'er survived to see thee more! For such thou art, the sister of our loves,

J. Sh. Oh! thou most injured-dost thou live, And nothing shall divide us. Now where are

indeed! they?

Fall then, ye mountains, on my guilty head;

up,

Hide me, ye rocks, within your secret caverns; Say, gentle Belmour, is he not? How pale
Cast thy black veil upon my shame, 0 night! Your visage is become! Your eyes are hollow;
And shield me with thy sable wings for ever. Nay, you are wrinkled too -Alas, the day!
Sh. Why dost thou turn away? Why tremble My wretchedness has cost you many a tear,
thus?

And many a bitter pang, since last we parted. Why thus indulge thy fears, and in despair, Sh. No more of that --Thou talk'st, but Abandon thy distracted soul to horror ?

dost not eat. Cast every black and guilty thought behind thee, J. Sh. My feeble jaws forget their common And let them never vex thy quiet more.

office, My arms, my heart, are open to receive thee, My tasteless tongue cleaves to the clammy roof, To bring thee back to thy forsaken home, And now a general loathing grows upon me. With tender joy, with fond forgiving love,

Oh! I am sick at heart! And ali the longings of my first desires.

Sh. Thou murderous sorrow! J. Sh. No, arm thy brow with vengeance, and

Wilt thou still drink her blood, pursue her still !

Must she then die! Oh, my poor penitent! appear The minister of Heaven's inquiring justice. Speak peace to my sad heart: she hears me not; Array thyself all terrible for judgment,

Grief masters every sense--help me to hold her! With in thy eyes, and thunder in thy voice;

Enter CATESBY, with a guard.
Pronounce my sentence, and if yet there be
A woe I have not felt, inftict it on me.

Cat. Seize on them both, as traitors to the Sh. The measure of thy sorrows is complete !

state! And I am come to snatch thee from injustice.

Bel. What means this violence?-The hand of power no more shall crush thy (Guards lny hold on SHORE and BELMOUR. weakness,

Cat. Have we not found you,
Nor proud oppression grind thy humble soul. In scorn of the protector's strict command,
J. Sh. Art thou not risen by miracle from Assisting this base woman, and abetting
death?

Her infamy?
Thy shroud is fallen from off thee, and the grave Sh. Infamy on thy head!
Was bid to give thee up, that thou mightst come

Thou tool of power, thou pandar to authority! The messenger of grace and goodness to me,

I tell thee, knave, thou know'st of none so virTo seal my peace, and bless me e'er I go.

tuous, Oh! let me then fall down beneath thy feet, And she that bore thee was an Æthiop to her. And weep my gratitude for ever there;

Cat. You'll answer this at full--Away with Give me your drops, ye soft descending rains,

them! Give me your streams, ye never ceasing springs,

Sh. Is charity grown treason to your court? That my sad eyes may still supply my duty,

What honest man would live beneath such And feed an everlasting flood of sorrow.

rulers! Sh. Waste not thy feeble spirits, I have long I am content that we should die together Beheld, unknown, thy mourning and repentance;

Cat. Convey the men to prison; but for her, Therefore my heart has set aside the past,

Leave her to hunt her fortune as she may. And holds thee white, as unoffending innocence: J. Sh. I will not part with himn--for me!--for Therefore, in spite of cruel Gloster's rage,

me! Soon as my friend had broke my prison doors,

Oh! must he die for me! I flew to thy assistance. Let us haste,

(Following him as he is carried of-She falls. Now while occasion seems to smile upon us,

Sh. Inhuman villains ! Forsake this place of shame, and find a shelter.

(Breaking from the guards. J. Sh. What shall I say to you? But I obey- Stand off! The agonies of death are on herSh. Lean on my arm

She pulls, she gripes me hard with her cold hand. J. Sh. Alas! I'm wondrous faint:

J. Sh. Was this blow wanting to complete my But that's not strange; I have not eat these

ruin? three days.

Oh! let him go, ye ministers of terror! Sh. Oh, merciless! Look here, my love, I've He shall offend no more, for I will die, brought thee

And yield obedience to your cruel master. Some rich conserves

Tarry a little, but a little longer, J. Sh. How can you be so good ?

And take my last breath with you. But you were ever thus. I well remember

Sh. Oh, my love! With what fond care, what diligence of love,

Why have I lived to see this bitter moment, You lavished out your wealth to buy me plea- This grief, by far surpassing all my former? sures,

Why dost thou fix thy dying eyes upon me, Preventing every wish; have you forgot

With such an earnest, such a piteous look, The costly string of pearl you brought me home, As if thy heart were full of some sad meaning, And tied about my neck ? -How could I leave Thou could'st not speak ! you?

J. Sh. Forgive me! --but forgive me! Sh. Taste some of this, or this

Sh. Be witness for me, ye celestial host, J. Sh. You are strangely altered

Such mercy and such pardon as my soul

Accords to thee, and begs of Heaven to shew | The light that cheered my soul? Oh, heavy thee,

hour! May such befall me at my latest hour,

But I will fix my trembling lips to thine, And make my portion blest or curs’d for ever! 'Till I am cold and senseless quite, as thou art. J. Sh. Then all is well, and I shall sleep in What, must we part, then?

will you — peace

(To the guards taking him cray. 'Tis very dark, and I have lost you now

Fare thee well

{Kissing her. Was there not something I would have be- Now execute your tyrant's will, and lead me quenthed you?

To bonds, or death, 'tis equally indifferent. But I have nothing left me to bestow,

Bel. Let those who view this sad example, Nothing but one sad sigh. Oh! mercy, Heaven!

know,

[Dies. What fate attends the broken marriage vow; Bel. There fled the soul,

And teach their children, in succeeding times, And left her load of misery behind.

No common vengeance waits upon these crimes, Sh. Oh, my heart's treasure ! Is this pale sad When such severe repentance could not save visage

From want, from shame, and an untimely grave. All that remains of thee? Are these dead eyes

(Ereunt omnes.

EPILOGUE.

Yc modest matrons all, ye virtuous wives, You! lords and masters !–Was not that some Who lead, with horrid husbands, decent lives;

merit? You, who, for all you are in such a taking, Don't you allow it to be virtuous bearing, To see your spouses drinking, gaming, raking, When we submit thus to your domineering? Yet make a conscience still of cuckold-making; Well, peace be with her, she did wrong most What can we say your pardon to obtain?

surely; This matter here was prov'd against poor Jane : But so do many more who look demurely. She never once denied it; but, in short, Nor should our mourning madam weep alone, Whimper'd-and cry'd—“ Sweet sir, I'm sorry There are more ways of wickedness than one. for't.”

If the reforming stage should fall to shaming 'Twas well he met a kind, good-natur'd soul, Ill-nature, pride, hypocrisy, and gaming; We are not all so easy to controul :

The poets frequently might move compassion, I fancy one might find in this good town, And with she-tragedies o'er-run the nation. Some would ha' told the gentleman his own; Then judge the fair offender with good-nature, Have answer'd swart -“ To what do you pre- | And let your fellow-feeling curb your satire. tend,

What, if our neighbours have some little failing, « Blockhead! as if I must not see a friend: Must we needs fall to damning and to railing? “ Tell me of hackney-coaches_jaunts to th' For her excuse too, be it understood, city

That if the woman was not quite so good, “ Where should I buy my china ? Faith, I'll fit Her lover was a king, she flesh and blood. ye.”—

And since sh'has dearly paid the sinful score, Our wife was of a milder, meeker spirit; Be kind at last, and pity poor Jane Shore.

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LADY JANE GRAY.

BY

ROWE.

PROLOGUE

TO-NIGHT the noblest subject swells our scene,
A heroine, a martyr, and a queen;
And though the poet dares not boast his art,
The very theme shall something great impart,
To warm the generous soul, and touch the

tender heart. То

you, fair judges, we the cause submit; Your eyes shall tell us how the tale is writ. If your soft pity waits upon our woe, If silent tears for suff'ring virtue flow; Your grief the muses labour shall confess, The lively passions, and the just distress. Oh, could our author's pencil justly paint, Such as she was in life, the beauteous saint! Boldly your strict attention we might claim, And bid you mark and copy out the dame. No wand'ring glance one wanton thought conNo guilty wish inflam'd her spotless breast: The only love that warm’d her blooming youth, Was husband, England, liberty and truth.

For these she fell, while, with too weak a hand,
She strove to save a blind, ungrateful land.
But thus the secret laws of fate ordain;
William's great hand was doom'd to break the

chain,
And end the hopes of Rome's tyrannic reign.
For ever, as the circling years return,
Ye grateful Britons, crown the hero's urn;
To his just care you ev'ry blessing owe,
Which, or his own, or following reigns bestow.
Though his hard fate a father's name decry’d;
To you a father, he that loss supplied.
Then while you view the royal line's increase,
And count the pledges of your future peace;
From this great stock, while still new glories

come, Conquest abroad, and liberty at home: While you

behold the beautiful and brave, Bright princesses to grace you, kings to save, Enjoy the gift, and bless the hand that gave.

fess'd,

PROLOGUE.

SENT BY AN UNKNOWN HAND.

When waking terrors rouse the guilty breast, And fatal visions break the murderer's rest; When vengeance does ambition's fate decree, And tyrants bleed, to set whole nations free; Though the muse saddens each distressed scene, Unmov'd is ev'ry breast, and ev'ry face serene: The mournful lines no tender heart subdue; Compassion is to suff'ring goodness due. The poet your attention begs once more, T’atone for characters here drawn before; No royal mistress sighs through ev'ry page, And breathes her dying sorrows on the stage: No lovely fair, by soft persuasion won, Lays down the load of life, when honour's gone. Nobly to bear the changes of our state, To stand unmov’d against the storms of fate,

A brave contempt of life, and grandeur lost :
Such glorious toils a female name can boast.
Our author draws not beauty's heavenly smile,
T'invite our wishes, and our hearts beguile;
No soft enchantments languish in her eye,
No blossoms fade, nor sick’ning roses die.
A nobler passion ev'ry breast must move,
Than youthful raptures, or the joys of love,
A mind unchang’d, superior to a crown,
Bravely defies the angry tyrant's frown;
The same, if fortune sinks, or mounts on high,
Or if the world's extended ruins lie:
With gen'rous scorn she lays the sceptre down;
Great souls shine brightest by misfortunes shewn.
With patient courage she sustains the blow,
And triumphs o'er variety of woe.

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Gates. Is there no help in all the healing art

, SCENE I.-The Court.

No potent juice or drug to save a life

So precious, and prevent a nation's fate? Enter the Duke of NORTHUMBERLAND, Duke North. What has been left untried, that at of SUFFOLK, and Sir John Gates.

could do? North. 'Tis all in vain ; Heaven has required The hoary wrinkled leech has watched and toile' its pledge,

Tried every health-restoring herb and gum, And he must die.

And wearied out his painful skill in vain. Suff. Is there an honest heart,

Close, like a dragon folded in his den, That loves our England, does not mourn for Ed. Some secret venom preys upon his heart; ward?

A stubborn and unconquerable flame The genius of our isle is shook with sorrow; Creeps in his veins, and drinks the streams of life; He bows his venerable head with pain,

His youthful sinews are unstrung; cold sweats And labours with the sickness of his lord. And deadly paleness sit upon his visage; Religion melts in every holy eye;

And every gasp we look shall be his last. All comfortless, afflicted, and forlorn,

Gates. Doubt not, your graces, but the Popis: She sits on earth, and weeps upon her cross,

faction Weary of man, and his detested ways:

Will at this juncture urge their utmost force. Even now she seems to meditate her flight, All on the princess Mary turn their eyes, And waft her angels to the thrones above. Well hoping she shall build again their altars, North. Ay, there, my lord, you touch our hea. And bring their idol-worship back in triumph viest loss.

North. Good Heaven, ordain some better fate With him our holy faith is doomed to suffer ;

for England ! With him our church shall veil her sacred front, Suff. What better can we hope, if she should That late from heaps of Gothic ruins rose,

reign ? In her first native simple majesty;

I know her well; a blinded zealot is she; The toil of saints, and price of martyrs' blood, A gloomy nature, sullen and severe; Shall fail with Edward, and again old Rome Nurtured by proud presuming Romish priests Shall spread her banners ; and her monkish host, Taught to believe they only cannot err, Pride, ignorance, and rapine, shall return; Because they cannot err; bred up in scori Blind bloody zeal, and cruel priestly power, Of reason, and the whole lay world; instructed Shall scourge the land for ten dark ages more. To hate whoe'er dissent froin what they teach;

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