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JANE SHORE:
A Tragedy,
_IN FIVE ACTS_;
BY NICHOLAS ROWE.
CORRECTLY GIVEN,
AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRES ROYAL.
_With Remarks._
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_London:_
Printed by D. S. Maurice, Fenchurch Street;
SOLD BY
T. HUGHES, 35, LUDGATE STREET, AND J. BYSH,
52, PATERNOSTER ROW.
REMARKS
It has been observed, that Rowe seldom moves either pity or terror, but
often elevates the sentiments; he seldom pierces the breast, but always
delights the ear, and often improves the understanding. This excellent
tragedy is always acted with great applause, and will, in one instance
at least, prove the author's power to excite a powerful effect: consisting
chiefly of domestic scenes and private distress, the play before us is
an affecting appeal to pity, especially in the parting of Alicia and
Hastings, the interview between Jane Shore and Alicia, and in the
catastrophe. In the plot, Rowe has nearly followed the history of this
misguided and unhappy fair one, and has produced an impressive moral
lesson.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
As originally acted in 1713. Covent Garden, 1814.
_Lord Hastings_ Mr. Booth. Mr. C. Kemble.
_Duke of Gloster_ Mr. Cibber. Mr. Egerton.
_Belmour_ Mr. Mills. Mr. Claremont.
_Sir Richard Ratcliffe_ Mr. Bowman. Mr. Treby.
_Sir William Catesby_ Mr. Husband. Mr. Creswell.
_Shore_ Mr. Wilks. Mr. Barrymore.
_Jane Shore_ Mrs. Oldfield. Miss O'Neil.
_Alicia_ Mrs. Porter. Mrs. Fawcett.
_Lords of the Council, &c._
JANE SHORE.
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I. THE TOWER.
_Enter the Duke of Gloster_, _Sir Richard Ratcliffe_, _and Catesby._
_Glos._ 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?
The sceptre and the golden wreath of royalty
Seem hung within my reach.
_Sir R._ Then take 'em to you,
And wear them long and worthily: you are
The last remaining male of princely York,
(For Edward's boys, the state esteems not of 'em,)
And therefore on your sov'reignty and rule
The commonweal does her dependence make,
And leans upon your highness' able hand.
_Cates._ And yet to-morrow does the council meet
To fix a day for Edward's coronation.
Who can expound this riddle?
_Glos._ That can I.
Those lords are each one my approv'd good friends,
Of special trust and nearness to my bosom;
And, howsoever busy they may seem,
And diligent to bustle in the state,
Their zeal goes on no further than we lead,
And at our bidding stays.
_Cates._ Yet there is one,
And he amongst the foremost in his power,
Of whom I wish your highness were assur'd.
For me, perhaps it is my nature's fault,
I own I doubt of his inclining much.
_Glos._ I guess the man at whom your words would point:
Hastings--
_Cates._ The same.
_Glos._ He bears me great good will.
_Cates._ 'Tis true, to you, as to the lord protector,
And Gloster's duke, he bows with lowly service:
But were he bid to cry, God save king Richard,
Then tell me in what terms he would reply.
Believe me, I have prov'd the man, and found him:
I know he bears a most religious reverence
To his dead master Edward's royal memory,
And whither that may lead him, is most plain.
Yet more--One of that stubborn sort he is,
Who, if they once grow fond of an opinion,
They call it honour, honesty, and faith,
And sooner part with life than let it go.
_Glos._ And yet this tough, impracticable, heart,
Is govern'd by a dainty-finger'd girl;
Such flaws are found in the most worthy natures;
A laughing, toying, wheedling, whimpering, she,
Shall make him amble on a gossip's message,
And take the distaff with a hand as patient
As e'er did Hercules.
_Sir R._ The fair Alicia,
Of noble birth and exquisite of feature,
Has held him long a vassal to her beauty.
_Cates._ I fear, he fails in his allegiance there;
Or my intelligence is false, or else
The dame has been too lavish of her feast,
And fed him till he loathes.
_Glos._ No more, he comes.
_Enter Lord Hastings._
_Lord H._ Health, and the happiness of many days,
Attend upon your grace.
_Glos._ My good lord chamberlain,
We're much beholden to your gentle friendship.
_Lord H._ My lord, I come an humble suitor to you.
_Glos._ In right good time. Speak out your pleasure freely.
_Lord H._ I am to move your highness in behalf
Of Shore's unhappy wife.
_Glos._ Say you, of Shore?
_Lord H._ Once a bright star, that held her place on high:
The first and fairest of our English dames,
While royal Edward held the sov'reign rule.
Now, sunk in grief and pining with despair,
Her waning form no longer shall incite
Envy in woman, or desire in man.
She never sees the sun, but through her tears,
And wakes to sigh the live-long night away.
_Glos._ Marry! the times are badly chang'd with her,
From Edward's days to these. Then all was jollity,
Feasting and mirth, light wantonness and laughter,
Piping and playing, minstrelsy and masking;
'Till life fled from us like an idle dream,
A show of mummery without a meaning.
My brother, rest and pardon to his soul,
Is gone to his account; for this his minion,
The revel-rout is done--But you were speaking
Concerning her--I have been told, that you
Are frequent in your visitation to her.
_Lord H._ No further, my good lord, than friendly pity
And tender-hearted charity allow.
_Glos._ Go to: I did not mean to chide you for it.
For, sooth to say, I hold it noble in you
To cherish the distress'd.--On with your tale.
_Lord H._ Thus it is, gracious sir, that certain officers,
Using the warrant of your mighty name,
With insolence unjust, and lawless power,
Have seiz'd upon the lands, which late she held
By grant, from her great master Edward's bounty.
_Glos._ Somewhat of this, but slightly, have I heard;
And though some counsellors of forward zeal,
Some of most ceremonious sanctity
And bearded wisdom, often have provok'd
The hand of justice to fall heavy on her;
Yet still, in kind compassion of her weakness,
And tender memory of Edward's love,
I have withheld the merciless stern law
From doing outrage on her helpless beauty.
_Lord H._ Good heav'n, who renders mercy back for mercy,
With open-handed bounty shall repay you:
This gentle deed shall fairly he set foremost,
To screen the wild escapes of lawless passion,
And the long train of frailties flesh is heir to.
_Glos._ Thus far, the voice of pity pleaded only:
Our further and more full extent of grace
Is given to your request. Let her attend,
And to ourself deliver up her griefs.
She shall be heard with patience, and each wrong
At full redress'd. But I have other news,
Which much import us both; for still my fortunes
Go hand in hand with yours: our common foes,
The queen's relations, our new-fangled gentry,
Have fall'n their haughty crests--that for your privacy. [_exeunt._