and frankness in his disposition, that did not at all derogate from the dignity of his birth and character, rendered him infinitely agreeable. And as no man had a more delicate taste of natural wit, his conversation always abounded in good-humour. For those parts of his character which related to the public, as he was a nobleman of the first rank, and a minister of state, they will be best known by the great employments he passed through; all which he discharged worthily as to himself, justly to the princes who employed him, and advantageously for his country. There is no occasion to enumerate his several employments, as secretary of state, for Scotland in particular, for Britain in general, or lord high commissioner of Scotland; which last office he bore more than once; but at no time more honourably, and (as I hope) more happily, both for the present age and for posterity, than when he laid the foundation for the British Union. The constancy and address which he manifested on that occasion, are still fresh in every body's memory; and perhaps when our children shall reap those benefits from that work, which some people do not foresee and hope for now, they may remember the Duke of Queensberry with that gratitude, which such a piece of service done to his country deserves. He shewed, upon all occasions, a strict and im B mediate attachment to the crown, in the legal service of which, no man could exert himself more dutifully, nor more strenuously: and at the same time, no man gave more bold and more generous evidences of the love he bore to his country. Of the latter, there can be no better proof, than the share he had in the late happy Revolution; nor of the former, than that dutiful respect, and unshaken fidelity, which he preserved for her present majesty, even to his last moments. at all With so many good and great qualities, it is not strange that he possessed so large a share, as he was known to have, in the esteem of the queen, and her immediate predecessor; nor that those great princes should repose the highest confidence in him : and at the same time, what a pattern has he left behind him for the nobility in general, and for your Grace in particular, to copy after! Your Grace will forgive me, if my zeal for your welfare and honour (which nobody has more at heart than myself) shall press you with some more than ordinary warmth to the imitation of your noble father's virtues. You have, my lord, many great advantages, which may encourage you to go on in pursuit of this reputation: it has pleased God to give you naturally that sweetness of temper, which, as I have before hinted, is the foundation of all good inclina tions. You have the honour to be born, not only of the greatest, but of the best parents; of a gentleman generally beloved, and generally lamented; and of a lady adorned with all virtues that enter into the character of a good wife, an admirable friend, and a most indulgent mother. The natural advantages of your mind, have been cultivated by the most proper arts and manners of education. You have the care of many noble friends, and especially of an excellent uncle, to watch over you in the tenderness of your youth. You set out amongst the first of mankind, and I doubt not but your virtues will be equal to the dignity of your rank. That I may live to see your Grace eminent for the love of your country, for your service and duty to your prince, and, in convenient time, adorned with all the honours that have ever been conferred upon your noble family: that you may be distinguished to posterity, as the bravest, greatest, and best man of the age you live in, is the hearty wish and prayer of My Lord, Your Grace's most obedient, and most faithful, humble servant, N. ROWE. JANE SHORE. THIS Play is attractive upon various accounts-It presents a familiar picture of well-known events, treated with much delicacy and skill-and its moral use is also great, as exemplifying upon the fickleness of high fortune, and the gloomy proof, that the friendship which courts the summer of prosperity is blighted by the winter of adversity. But Rowe never suffered a stronger delusion of the mind than that, which whispered to him, that his Play bore a resemblance to the weightier pro. ductions of SHAKSPERE. RowE is not without his strength of sentiment-he can express an axiom of policy or morals nervously, and with considerable splendour; but the reflex picture of the mind, the labouring progression of thought, or the retrospective anguish of guilty compunction, are all beyond his grasp. He is little accustomed to the inward search after natural feeling, and the self-imposed state of artificial being-He studied Books, rather than MAN in himself. Yet there are tender and soothing passages in this Play-there is a well apposed succession of striking |