EPILOGUE TO MR. ROWE'S JANE SHORE.

THE Epilogue to Jane Shore is written with that air of gallantry and raillery which, by a ftrange perverfion of tafte, the audience expects in all epilogues to the moft ferious and pathetic pieces. To recommend cuckoldom, and palliate adultery, is their ufual intent. I wonder Mrs. Oldfield was not fuffered to speak it; for it is fuperior to that which was used on the occasion. In this taste Garrick has written fome, that abound in spirit and drollery. Rowe's genius was rather delicate and soft, than strong and pathetic; his compofitions foothe us with a tranquil and tender fort of complacency, rather than cleave the heart with pangs of commiferation. His diftreffes are entirely founded on the paffion of love. His diction is extremely elegant and chaste, and his verfification highly melodious. His plays are declamations, rather than dialogues; and his characters are general, and undiftinguished from each other. Such a furious character as that of Bajazet, is easily drawn ; and, let me add, eafily acted. There is a want of unity in the fable of Tamerlane. The death's head, dead body, and stage hung in mourning, in the Fair Penitent, are artificial and mechanical methods of affecting an audience. In a word, his plays are mufical and pleafing poems; but inactive and unmoving tragedies. This of Jane Shore is, I think, the most interesting and affecting of any he has given us: but probability is fadly violated in it by the neglect of the unity of time. For a person to be supposed to be ftarved, during the reprefentation of five acts, is a ftriking inftance of the abfurdity of this violation.

It is probable that this is become the most popular and pleafing tragedy of all Rowe's works, because it is founded on our own history. I cannot forbear wifhing, that our writers

would

would more frequently fearch for fubjects, in the annals of England, which afford many striking and pathetic events, proper for the ftage. We have been too long attached to Grecian and, Roman ftories. In truth, domeftica facta are more interesting, as well as more useful; more interesting, because we` all think ourfelves concerned in the actions and fates of our countrymen ; more useful, because the characters and manners bid the fairest to be true and natural, when they are drawn from models with which we are exactly acquainted. The Turks, the Perfians, and Americans, of our poets, are, in reality, distinguished from Englishmen, only by their turbans and feathers; and think and act, as if they were born and educated within the Bills of Mortality. The hiftorical plays of Shakespeare are always grateful to the spectator, who loves to fee and hear our own Harrys and Edwards, better than all the Achillefes or Cæfars that ever exifted. In the choice of a domestic ftory, however, much judgment and circumfpection must be exerted, to felect one of a proper æra; neither of too ancient, or of too modern a date. The manners of times very ancient, we shall be apt to falfify, as thofe of the Greeks and Romans. And recent events, with which we are thoroughly acquainted, are deprived of the power of impreffing folemnity and awe, by their notoriety and familiarity. Age foftens and wears away all those disgracing and depreciating circumftances, which attend modern tranfactions, merely because they are modern. Lucan was much embarraffed by the proximity of the times he treated of.

I take this occafion to observe, that Rowe has taken the fable of his Fair Penitent, from the Fatal Dowry of Maffinger and Field. His very fpirited tranflation, which does not seem fufficiently regarded, is perhaps his best work; and one of the best translations in our language, of the only claffic, faid Addison, not explained for the ufe of the Dauphin.

EPILOGUE TO MR. ROWE'S

JANE SHORE.

DESIGNED FOR MRS. OLDFIELD.

PRODIGIOUS this! the Frail-one of our Play
From her own Sex fhould mercy find to-day!
You might have held the pretty head aside,
Peep'd in your fans, been serious, thus, and cry'd,
The Play may pass-but that strange creature, Shore,
I can't-indeed now-I fo hate a whore-

Just as a blockhead rubs his thoughtless skull,
And thanks his stars he was not born a fool;
So from a fifter finner you fhall hear,

"How strangely you expofe yourself, my dear?"
But let me die, all raillery apart,

Our fex are still forgiving at their heart;
And, did not wicked custom so contrive,
We'd be the best, good-natur'd things alive.

There are, 'tis true, who tell another tale,
That virtuous ladies envy while they rail;
Such rage without betrays the fire within;
In fome close corner of the foul, they fin;
Still hoarding up, most scandalously nice,
Amidst their virtues a reserve of vice.

The godly dame, who fleshly failings damns,
Scolds with her maid, or with her chaplain crams.

6

II

15

20

Would

Would you enjoy foft nights and folid dinners?
Faith, gallants, board with faints, and bed with finners.

Well, if our Author in the Wife offends,
He has a Husband that will make amends:

25

He draws him gentle, tender, and forgiving,
And fure fuch kind good creatures may be living.
In days of old they pardon'd breach of vows,
Stern Cato's felf was no relentless spouse:
Plu-Plutarch, what's his name, that writes his life?
Tells us, that Cato dearly lov'd his Wife:

Yet if a friend, a night or so, should need her,
He'd recommend her as a special breeder.

30

39

To lend a Wife, few here would fcruple make, 35
But, pray, which of you all would take her back?
Tho' with the Stoic Chief our stage may ring,
The Stoic Hufband was the glorious thing.
The man had courage, was a fage, 'tis true,
And lov'd his country,-but what's that to you?
Those strange examples ne'er were made to fit ye,
But the kind cuckold might inftru&t the City:
There, many an honest man may copy Cato,
Who ne'er faw naked fword, or look'd in Plato.
If, after all, you think it a difgrace,
That Edward's Mifs thus perks it in your face;

45

Το

NOTES.

VER. 44. Who ne'er faw] A fly and oblique ftroke on the fuicide of Cato; which was one of the reasons, as I have been informed, why this epilogue was not spoken.

VER. 46. Edward's Mifs] Sir Thomas More fays, fhe had one accomplishment uncommon in a woman of that time; she could read and write.