Ratc. The fair Alicia,
Of noble birth and exquisite of feature,
Has held him long a vassal to her beauty.

Cate. I fear, he fails in his allegiance there,
Or my intelligence is false; or else,
Fickle, he now deserts his forward dame,
And whom he lov'd he loaths.
Glos. No more, he comes.

Enter Lord Hastings.*
Hast. Health and the happiness of many days
Attend upon your

Grace.
Glos. My good Lord Chamberlain!
We're much beholden to your gentle friendship.

Hast. My Lord, I come an humble suitor to you.
Glos. In right good time; speak out your pleasure

Hast. I am to move your highness in behalf [freely. Of Shore's unhappy wife

Glos. Say you, of Shore?

Hast. 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 thro’ her tears, And wakes to sigh the live-long night away.

Glos. The times in sootht 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 shew of mummery without a meaning. My brother, rest and pardon to his soul, Is gone to his account: For this his minion,

for it,

The revel-rout is done- -But

you were speaking Concerning her. I have been told that

you Are frequent in your visitation to her.

Hast. No farther, my good Lord, than friendly pity
And tender-hearted charity allow.
Glos. Go to: I did not mean to chide

you
For, sooth to say, I hold it noble in you
To cherish the distress'd- -On with your tale.

Hust. 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 tho’ 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.

Hast. Good Heav'n who renders mercy back for mercy,
With open-handed bounty shall repay you:
And

may this gentle deed be foremost set, When judgment would on human frailties pass.

Glos. Thus far, the voice of pity pleaded only;
Our farther and more full extent of grace
Is giv'n 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. SCENE II. An Apartment in Jane Shore's House.

Enter BELMOUR and DUMONT.
Bel. How she has liv'd you've heard my tale already;

The rest your own attendance in her family,
Where I have found the means this day to place you,
And nearer observation best will tell you.
See, with what sad and sober cheer she comes.

Enter Jane Smore.
Sure, or I read her visage much amiss,
Or grief besets her hard. Save you, fair Lady,
The blessings of the cheerful morn be on you,
And greet your beauty with its opening sweets.

J. Sho. My gentle neighbour! your good wishes still
Pursue my hapless fortunes: ah! good Belmour!
How few, like thee, enquire the wretched out,
And court the offices of soft humanity?
Like thee reserve their raiment for the naked,
Reach out their bread, to feed the crying orphan,
Or mix their pitying tears with those that weep?*
Thy praise deserves a better tongue than mine
To speak and bless thy name. Is this the gentleman,
Whose friendly service you commended to me?

Bel. Madam! It is.
J. Sho. A venerable aspect!

[Aside. Age sits with decent grace upon his visage, And worthily becomes his silver locks; He wears the marks of many years well-spent, of virtue, truth well-tryed, and wise experience;

A friend like this, would suit my sorrows well.
The world* I fear me, Sir, has meant you ill,

[To Dumont. Paying your merit with that scanty pittance, Which my poor

hand and humble roof can give.
But to supply those golden ’vantages,
Which elsewhere you might find, expect to meet
A just regard and value for your worth,
The welcome of a friend and the free partnership
Of all that little good the world allows me.

Dum. Praise not the worth untried, for all my answer
Must be my future truth; let that speak for me,
And make up my deserving.

J. Sho. Are you of England ?

Dum. To Flanders, gracious lady, I belong; At Antwerp city has my biding been, Where sometimes I have known more plenteous days, Than those which now my failing age affords. J. Sho. Alas! at Antwerp!- -Oh forgive my tears !

[Weeping
They fall for my offences- and must fall
Long, long, nor can they wash my stains away.
You knew perhaps—oh grief! oh shame!—my husband,

Dum. I knew him well—but he's no longer there.
J. Sho. Yet tell me if he live: oh! tell me all.

Dum. Whither he went he told not to his friends;
But that he lives I have no cause to doubt.
But, my good lady stay this flood of anguish,
Repentant, you have turn'd from former courses,
Gather up now your strength and live to virtue.

J. Sho. Oh! that my soul had known no joy but him, That I had liv'd within his guiltless arms,

Dying we'd slept in innocence together!
Now will his honest dust abhor the fellowship,
And scorn to mix with mine.

Enter a SERVANT.
Sero. The lady Alicia
Attends

your

leisure. J. Sho. Say I wish to see her. [Exit Servant. Please, gentle Sir, one moment to retire, I'll wait you on the instant, and inform you Of each unhappy circumstance, in which Your friendly aid and counsel much may stead* me.

[Exeunt Belmour and Dumont.

Enter ALICIA.
Alic. Still, my fair friend, still shall I find

you

thus?
Still shall these sighs heave after one another,
These trickling drops chase one another still, +
As if the posting messengers of grief
Could overtake the hours fled far away,
And make old Time come back?

J. Sho. No, my Alicia,
All-righteous Heav'n be witness to my thoughts,
There is no hour of all my life o'er past,
That I could wish should take its turn again.

Alic. And yet some of those days my friend has known,
Some of those years might pass for golden ones,
At least, if womankind can judge of happiness.
What could we wish, we who delight in empire,
Whose beauty is our sov’reign good, and gives
Our reasons to rebel, and pow'r to reign,