The Jacobites took it for satire in disguise, and the Whigs, after applauding, got their opportunity for a roar when _Sir John_ expressed his satisfaction at _Heartly_ having been born the year before the Revolution, as he might, in consequence, be taken for a ‘regular Christian’; and the roar was not less when this Jacobite, _Sir John_, was described as a man who, ‘Name to him but _Rome_ or _Popery_, he startles, as at a Monster, but gild its grossest Doctrines with the Stile of _Catholick English_, he swallows down the poison, like a cordial!’ After this fling at the disloyal Ritualists of that day no more religious or political allusions were made to delight or exasperate portions of the audience, till _Heartly_ delivered the last speech, which took the form of a little political lecture, as thus: ‘Give me leave to observe that, of all the arts our enemies make use of to embroil us, none seem so audaciously preposterous as their insisting that a Nation’s best security is the Word of a Prince whose Religion indulges him to give it, and at the same time, obliges him to break it. And, though perhaps in lesser points our politick disputes won’t suddenly be ended, methinks there’s one Principle that all Parties might easily come into, that no change of Government can give us a blessing equal to our Liberty;’ and then the too eager applause of the audience was hushed to hear the tag,―― Grant us but this and then of course you’ll own, To guard that Freedom, GEORGE must fill the Throne.―― On uttering which words, Mr. Wilks, as _Heartly_, bowed to the king. Amid the peals of applause that followed, Mrs. Oldfield swept down the stage to speak the epilogue. It was less indecent than such pieces usually were, and it half apologised for building a play on modern politics. At the same time it justified the proceeding, and claimed merit for ‘executing it with good feeling’:―― Even Rebels cannot say, Though vanquished, they’re insulted in this play! [Sidenote: PUBLIC FEELING.] They did, however, both say and feel it. There was not a Tory, whether play-goer or otherwise, who ever forgave Cibber for this assault on his principles. Cibber however had no lack of supporters. ‘Last night,’ says Read’s ‘Weekly,’ ‘the comedy called “The Nonjuror” was acted at His Majesty’s Theatre in Drury Lane, which, very naturally displaying the villainy of that most wicked and abominable crew, it gave great satisfaction to all the spectators.’