That I may live to see Your Grace emine for the Love of Your Country, for Your S vice and Duty to Your Prince, and in con nient Time, adorn'd with all the Honours th have ever been conferr'd upon Your Noble F mily That You may be diftinguish'd to P fterity, as the Braveft, Greatest, and Beft M of the Age You live in, is the hearty Wit and Prayer of,

MY LORD,

Your Grace's most Obedient, and

moft Faithful, Humble Servant,

N. ROW

PRO

PROLOGUE,

T

Spoken by Mr. WILKS.

10 Night, if you have brought your good old Taste,
We'll treat you with a downright English Feast :
A Tale, which told long fince 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.

Fußtly they drew the Fair, and Spoke her plain,
And fung her by her Christ'an Name

--'twas Jane: Our Numbers may be more refin'd than those,

But what we've gain'd in Verse, we've loft in Prose.
Their Words no shuffling, double-meaning knew,
Their Speech was homely, but their Hearts were true.
In such an Age, Immortal Shakespear wrote,
By no quaint Rules, nor hampering Criticks taught
With rough, majestick Force he mov'd the Heart,
And Strength of Nature made amends for Art.
Dur humble Author does his Steps pursue,
He owns he had the mighty Bard in View:
And in thefe Scenes has made it more his Care
To roufe the Paffions, than to charm the Ear.

Tet for thoje gentle Beaux who love the Chime,
The Ends of Acts till jingle into Rhime.
The Ladies too, he hopes will not complain,
Here are some Subject's for a Softer Strain,
A Nymph forfaken, and a periur'd Swain.

What

!

What most he fears, is, left the Dames fhou'd frown,
The Dames of Wit and Pleasure about Town,

To See our Picture drawn, unlike their own.
But left that Error fhou'd provoke to Fury
The Hofpitable Hundreds of Old Drury,
He bid me say, in our Jane Shore's Defence,
She dol'd about the charitable Pence,

Built Hospitals, turn'd Saint, and dy'd long fince.
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 fo forely, for a Sin fo fweet :
Or mourn and mortify the pleasant Sense,
To rife in Tragedy two Ages bence.

Several Lords of the Council, Guards, and Attendants.
SCENE LONDON.

URURUNISMUNUNUNSAS.UNUNUNUNUNU

ADVERTISEMENT to the READER.

Take this Opportunity to acknowledge the Favour of fe

I veral Copies of Veries that have been fent to me on Occa
fion of this Tragedy: I take it for granted, that the greateft
Part of them were not defign'd, by the Authors, to be made
Publick, fince they did not think fit to let me know to whom
I was oblig'd.
N. ROWE.

Enter the Duke of Glofter, Sir Richard Ratcliffe, and Catesby.

T

GLOSTER,

HUS far Succefs attends upon our Coun

cils,

And each Event has anfwer'd to my Wish,
The Queen and all her upftart Race are

quell'd;

Dorfet is banish'd, and her Brother Rivers

'Ere this lies fhorter by the Head at Pomfret,

B

The

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, fafe within the Tower. How fay you, Sirs,
Does not this Bufinefs wear a lucky Face?
The Scepter and the Golden Wreath of Royalty
Seem hung within my Reach,

Ratcl. Then take 'em to you,

And wear em long and worthily; you are
The laft remaining Male of Princely York:
(For Edward's Boys, the State efteems not of 'em,)
And therefore on your Sovereignty and Rule
The Commonweal does her Dependence make,
And leans upon your Highness' able Hand,

Cat. And yet to Morrow does the Council meet
To fix a Day for Edward's Coronation.

Who can expound this Riddle?

Thofe Lords are each one my approy'd, good Friends,

Of fpecial Truit and Nearnefs to my Bofom;

And how foever bufy they may feem,

And diligent to buftle in the State,

Their Zeal goes on no farther than we lead,

And at our bidding stays.

Cat. Yet there is one,

And he amongst the foremost in his Power,

Of whom I with your Highness were affur'd:
For me, perhaps it is my Nature's Fault,

Pown, I doubt of his inclining, much.

Gloft. I guess the Man at whom your Words wou'd point: Hafting's

a

Cat.