To Her

Grace the Dutchefs of ORMOND.

MADAM,

TH

HE privilege of Poetry (or it may be the vanity of the Pretenders to it) has given them a kind of right to pretend at the fame time, to the favour of thofe, whom their high birth and excellent qualities have placed in a very diftinguishing manner above the rest of the world. If this be not a received maxim, yet I am fure I am to wish it were, that I may have at least fome kind of excufe for laying this Tragedy at your Grace's feet. I have too much reafon to fear that it may prove but an indifferent entertainment to your Grace, fince, if I have any way fucceeded in it, it has been in defcrib-ing thofe violent paffions which have been always Strangers to fo happy a temper, and fo noble and fo exalted a virtue as your Grace is miftrefs of. Yet for all this, I cannot but confefs the vanity which I have, to hope that there may be fomething fo moving in the misfortunes and distress of the Play, as may be not altogether unworthy of your Grace's pity. This is one of the main defigns of Tragedy, and to excite this generous pity in the greateft minds, may pafs for fome kind of fuccefs in this way of writing. I am fenfible of the prefumption I am guilty of by this hope, and how much it is that I pretend to in your Grace's approbation; if it be my good fortune to meet with any little fhare of it, I fhall always look upon it as much more to me than the general applaufe of the Theatre, or even the praife of a good critic. Your Grace's name is the best protection this Play can hope for, fince the World, ill-natured as it is, agrees in an universal respect and defer

ence for your Grace's perfon and character. In fo cenforious an age as this is, where malice furnishes out all the public converfations, where every body pulls and is pulled to pieces of courfe, and where there is hardly fuch a thing as being merry, but at another's expence yet by a public and uncommon juftice to the Dutchefs of Ormond, her name has never been mention'd, but as it ought, though fhe has beauty enough to provoke detraction from the fairest of her own fex, and virtue enough to make the loose and diffolute of the other (a very formidable party) her enemies. Inftead of this, they agree to fay nothing of her but what fhe deferves. Toat her fpirit is worthy of her birth; her fweetnefs, of the love and refpect of all the world; her piety, of her r.ligion; her fervice, of her Royal Miftrefs; and her beauty and troth, cf her Lord; that in fhort every part of her character is jut, and that she is the best reward for one of the greatest heroes this age has produced. This, Madam, is what you must allow people every where to fay; thofe whom you fall leave behind you in England will have fomething further to add, the lofs we fhall fuffer by your Grace's journey to Ireland; the Queen's pleature, and the impatient wishes of that nation, are about to deprive us of two of our public ornaments. But there is no arguing against reafons fo prevalent as thefe. Those who thall lament your Grace's abfence will yet acquiefce in the wisdom and juftice of H MAJESTY's choice: Among all whofe Royal favors none could be fo agreeable, upon a thousand accounts, to that people, as the Duke of Ormond. With what joy, what acclamations fhall they meet a Governor, who, befide their former obligations to his family, has fo lately ventur'd his life and fortune for their prefervation? What duty, what fubmiffion fhall they not pay to that authority which the Queen has delegated to a perfon fo dear to them? And with what honor, what refpe& fhall they receive your Grace, when they look upon you as the noblest and best pattern Her MAJESTY could fend them, of her own Royal goodness, and perfonal virtues? They fhall behold your Grace with the fame pleafure the English fhall take whenever it fhall be their good fortune to fee you return again to your native

country

country. In England your Grace is become a public concern, and as your going away will be attended with a general forrow, fo your return fhall give as general a joy; and to none of those many, more than to,

PROLOGU E.

LONG has the fate of Kings and Empires heen
The common bus'nefs of the Tragic Scene,

As if Misfortune made the Throne her feat,
And none cou'd be unhappy but the

great.
Dearly, 'tis true, each buys the crown he wears,
And many are the mighty Monarch's cares:
By foreign foes and home-bred factions preft,
Few are the joys he knows, and short his hours of rest.
Stories like thefe with wonder we may hear;
But far remote, and in a higher sphere,
We ne'er can pity what we ne'er can fhare:
Like diftant battles of the Pole and Swede,
Which frugal Citizens o'er coffee read,
Careless for who shall fail, or who fucceed.
Therefore an humbler theme our author chofe,
A melancholy tale of private woes:
No Princes here loft Royalty bemoan,
But you shall meet with forrows like your own;
Here fee imperious Love his vaffals treat,
As hardly as ambition does the great;
See how fucceeding passions rage by turns,
How fierce the youth with joy and rapture burns,
And how to Death, for beauty loft, he mourns.
Let no nice taste the Poet's art arraign,
If fome frail vicious characters he feign:
Who writes fhou'd ftill let Nature be his care,
Mix fhades with lights, and not paint all things fair,
But fhew you men and women as they are.
With deference to the fair he bade me fay,
Few to perfection ever found the way;
Many in many parts are known t'excel,
But 'twere too hard for one to act all well;
Whom justly life would through each fcene commend,
The maid, the wife, the miftrefs, and the friend:
This age
'tis true, has one great inftance Jeen,
And Heav'n in juftice made that one a Queen.

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Dramatis