[Illustration] JANE SHORE: A Tragedy, _IN FIVE ACTS_; BY NICHOLAS ROWE. CORRECTLY GIVEN, AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRES ROYAL. _With Remarks._ [Illustration] _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?