Charles Johnson was, of course, ready with a comedy, stolen from various sources,--"Country Lasses." Gay, who had returned from Hanover with the third Earl of Clarendon, whose secretary he had become, after leaving the service of the Duchess of Monmouth, produced his hilarious burlesque of old and modern tragedies,--the "What d'ye call It?" The satire of this piece was so fine, that deaf gentlemen who saw the tragic action and could not hear the words, and the new sovereign and court who heard the words but could not understand their sense, were put into great perplexity; while the honest galleries, reached by the solemn sounds, and taking manner for matter, were affected to such tears as they could shed, at the most farcical and high-sounding similes. It was only after awhile that the joke was comprehended, and that the "What d'ye call It?" was seen to be a capital burlesque of "Venice Preserved." The very Templars, who of course comprehended it all, from the first, and went to hiss the piece, for the honour of Otway, could not do so, for laughing; and this only perplexed the more the matter-of-fact people, not so apt to discover a joke.[101] Rowe's "Lady Jane" did not prove so attractive as "Jane Shore." There were only innocence and calamity wherewith to move the audience; no guilt; no profound intrigue. But there is much force in some of the scenes. The very variety of the latter, indeed, was alleged against the author, as a defect, by the many slaves of the unity of time and place. It was objected to Rowe, that in his violation of the unities he went beyond other offenders,--not only changing the scene with the acts, but varying it within the acts. For this, however, he had good authority in older and better dramatists. "To change the scene, as is done by Rowe, in the middle of an act, is to add more acts to the play; since an act is so much of the business as is transacted without interruption. Rowe, by this licence, easily extricates himself from difficulties, as in 'Lady Jane Grey,' when we have been terrified by all the dreadful pomp of public execution, and are wondering how the heroine or poet will proceed; no sooner has Jane pronounced some prophetic rhymes than--pass and be gone--the scene closes, and Pembroke and Gardiner are turned out upon the stage." The critic wished to stay and witness a "public execution," not satisfied with the pathos of the speech uttered by Jane, and which, for tenderness, sets the scene in fine contrast with that of the quarrelling and reconciliation between Pembroke and Guilford. Rowe's Jane Grey interests the heart more fully than Jane Shore or Calista: but the last two ladies have a touch of boldness about them, in which the first, from her very innocence, is wanting; and audiences are, therefore, more excited by the loudly-proclaimed wrongs of the women who have gone astray than by the tender protests of the victim who suffers for the crimes of others.