Mr.
ROWE
's POEMS.
Price 1
s.
POEMS ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS.
By
N. ROWE,
Esq
LONDON:
Printed for E. CURLL at the Dial and Bible against St.
Dunstan
's Church in
Fleet-street.
1714.
POEMS ON Several Occasions.
An EPISTLE to
FLAVIA, On the Sight of two Pindarick Odes on the
Spleen
and
Vanity.
Written by a Lady her Friend.
FLAVIA, to you with Safety I commend,
This Verse, the secret Failing of your Friend.
To your Good-nature I securely trust,
Who know that to Conceal is to be just.
The Muse, like wretched Maids by Love undone,
From Friends, Acquaintance, and the Light would run;
Conscious of Folly, fears attending Shame,
Fears the censorious World, and Loss of Fame.
Some Confident by chance she finds (tho' few
Pity the Fools, whom Love or Verse undo)
Whose fond Compassion sooths her in the Sin,
And sets her on to venture once again▪
SURE, in the better Ages of old Time,
Nor Poetry nor Love was thought a Crime;
From Heav'n they both, the Gods best Gifts, were sent,
Divinely perfect both, and Innocent.
Then were bad Poets and loose Loves not known,
None felt a Warmth which they might blush to own.
Beneath cool Shades our happy Fathers lay,
And spent in pure untainted Joys the Day:
Artless their Loves, artless their Numbers were,
While Nature, simply did in both appear,
Nor could the Censor or the Critick fear.
Pleas'd to be pleas'd, they took what Heaven bestow'd,
Nor were too curious of the given Good.
At length, like
Indians,
fond of fancy'd Toys,
We lost being happy, to be thought more wise.
In one curst
ge, to punish Verse and Sin,
Criticks and Hang-men, both at once, came in;
Wit and the Laws had both the same ill Fate,
And partial Tyrants sway'd in either State:
Then a lewd Tide of Verse, with vicious Rage,
Broke in upon the Morals of the Age.
The Stage (whose Art was once the Mind to move
To Noble Daring, and to Virtuous Love)
Precept, with Pleasure mixt, no more profest,
But dealt in double-meaning Bawdy Jest:
The shocking Sounds offend the blushing Fair,
And drive 'em from the guilty Theatre.
Ye wretched Bards! from whom these Ills have sprung,
Whom the avenging Pow'rs have spar'd too long,
Well may you fear the Blow will surely come,
Your
Sodom
has no
Ten
t' avert its Doom;
Unless the Fair ARDELIA will alone
To Heav'n for all the guilty Tribe atone;
Nor can
Tou Saints
do more than such a
One.
Since she alone of the Poetick Crowd▪
To the false Gods of Wit has never bow'd;
The Empire, which she saves, shall own her Sway,
And all
Parnassus
her blest Laws obey.
SAY, from what Sacred Fountain, Nymph Divine!
The Treasures flow, which in thy Verse do shine?
With what strange Inspiration art thou blest,
What more than
Delphic
Ardor warms thy Breast?
Our sordid Earth ne'er bred so bright a Flame,
But from the Skies, thy Kindred Skies it came.
To Numbers great like thine th'Angelick Quire
In Joyous Consort tune the Golden Lyre.
Viewing, with pitying Eyes, our Care's with thee,
They wisely own, that
All is Vanity;
Ev'n all the Joys which mortal Minds can know,
And find ARDELIA'S Verse the least vain thing below.
IF PINDAR'S Name to those blest Mansions reach,
And Mortal Muses may Immortal teach;
In Verse like His, the Heav'nly Nation raise
Their tuneful Voices to their Maker's Praise.
Nor shall Celestial Harmony disdain
For once to imitate an Earthly Strain,
Whose Fame, secure, no Rival e're can fear,
But those above, and fair ARDELIA here.
She, who undaunted, could his Raptures view,
And with bold Wings his Sacred Heights persue.
Safe thro' the
Dithyrambick
Stream she steer'd,
Nor the rough Deep in all its Dangers fear'd:
Not so the rest, who with successless Pain
Th' unnavigable Torrent try'd in vain.
So CLELIA leapt into the rapid Flood,
While the
Etruscans
struck with Wonder stood:
Amidst the Waves her rash Persuers dy'd,
The matchless Dame could only stem the Tide,
And gain the Glory of the farther Side.
SEE with what Pomp the Antick Masque comes in!
The various Forms of the Fantastick
Spleen.
Vain empty Laughter, howling Grief and Tears,
False Joy, bred by false Hope, and falser Fears;
Each Vice, each Passion which pale Nature wears,
In this odd monstrous
Medley
mixt appears.
Like
Bays
his Dance, confus'dly round they run,
Statesman, Coquet, gay Fop,
and
pensive Nun,
Spectres
and
Heroes, Husbands
and their
Wives,
With
Moukish-Drones
that dream away their Lives.
Long have I labour'd with the dire Disease,
Nor found, but from ARDELIA's Numbers, Ease:
The dancing Verse runs thro' my sluggish Veins,
Where Dull and Cold the frozen Blood remains.
Pale Cares and anxious Thoughts give Way in haste,
And to returning Joy resign my Breast.
Then free from ev'ry Pain I did endure,
I bless the Charming Author of my Cure.
So when to SAUL the great Musician play'd,
The sullen Fiend unwillingly obey'd,
And left the Monarch's Breast to seek some safer Shade.
HORACE
Book
II.
Ode
IV. Imitated. Ad XANTHIAM.
Ne sit Ancillae tibi amor pudori.
The Lord
G
— to the E. of
S
—
I.
DO not, most fragrant Earl, disclaim
Thy bright, thy reputable Flame,
To
Br—g—le
the Brown,
But publickly espouse the Dame,
And say, G—D—the Town.
II.
Full many Heroes, fierce and keen,
With Drabs have deeply smitten been,
Although right good Commanders;
Some who with you have
Hounslow
seen,
And some who've been in
Flanders.
III.
DID not base
Greber
's
Seigniora
Francesca Marguareta de l'Epine,
an
Italian
Songstress.
PEGG inflame
The sober Earl of
N—m?
Of sober Sire descended,
That careless of his Soul and Fame,
To Play-Houses he nightly came,
And left Church undefended.
IV.
The Monarch who of
France
is Hight,
Who rules the Roast with matchless Might,
Since WILLIAM went to Heaven;
Loves MAINTENON, his Lady bright,
Who was but SCARRON'S Leaving.
V.
Tho' thy Dear's Father kept an Inn
At grisly Head of
aracen,
For Carriers at
Northampton,
Yet she might come of gentler Kin
Than e'er that Father dreamt on.
VI.
Of Proffers large her Choice had she,
Of Jewels, Plate, and Land in Fee▪
Which she with Scorn rejected;
And can a Nymph so virtuous be
Of base-born Blood suspected?
VII.
Her dimple Cheek, and roguish Eye,
Her slender Waste, and taper Thigh,
I always thought provoking;
But faith, tho' I talk waggishly,
I mean no more than Joking.
VIII.
Then be not Jealous, Friend, for why?
My Lady Marchioness is nigh,
To see I ne'er shall hurt ye;
Besides, you know full well, that I
Am turn'd of f
e and Forty.
HORACE,
Book
III.
Ode
IX. Imitated. Ad LYDIAM.
Donec gratus eram.
WHILE at my House in
Fleetstreet
once you lay,
How merrily, dear Sir, Time pass'd away?
While I partook your Wine, your Wit, and Mirth,
I was the happiest Creature on
Tonson
(sen.) his Dialect.
God's
Yearth.
WHILE in your early Days of Reputation,
You for blue Garters had not such a Passion;
While yet you did not use (as now your Trade) is
To drink with noble Lords, and toast their Ladies;
Thou, JACOB TONSON, wert, to my conceiving,
The chearfullest, best, honest Fellow living.
I'M in with Captain VANBRUGH at the present,
A most
sweet-natur'd
Gentleman, and pleasant;
He writes your Comedies, draws Schemes and Models,
And builds Dukes Houses upon very odd-Hills:
For him, so much I dote on him, that I,
If I was sure to go to Heaven would die.
TEMPLE and DALAVAL are now my Party,
Men that are
tàm Mercurio
both
quàm Marte;
And tho' for them I shall scarce go to Heaven,
Yet I can drink with them six Nights in seven.
WHAT if from VAN'S dear Arms I should retire,
And once more warm my
Bunnians
at your Fire;
If I to
Bow-street
should invite you home,
And set a Bed up in my Dining-Room,
Tell me dear Mr. CONGREVE, Would you come?
THO' the gay Sailor, and the gentle Knight,
Were Ten times more my Joy and Heart's Delight;
Tho' civil Persons they, you ruder were,
And had more Humours than a dancing Bear:
Yet for your sake I'd bid 'em
oth adieu,
And live and die, dear COB, with only you.
HORACE,
Book
III.
Ode
XXI. Ad AMPHORAM.
O Nata mecum consule Manlio.
I.
HAIL, gentle Cask, whose venerable Head
With hoary Down, and ancient Dust o'er-spread,
Proclaim that since the Vine first brought Thee forth
Old Age has added to thy Worth.
Whether the sprightly Juice thou dost contain,
Thy Vot'ries will to Wit and Love,
Or senseless Noise and Lewdness move,
Or Sleep, the Cure of these and ev'ry other Pain.
II.
Since to some Day propitious and great,
Justly at first thou wast design'd by Fate;
This Day, the happiest of thy many Years,
With thee I will forget my Cares:
To my CORVINU'S Health thou shalt go round,
(Since thou art ripen'd for to Day,
And longer Age would bring Decay)
Till ev'ry anxious Thought in the rich Stream be drown'd.
III.
To thee, my Friend, his Roughness shall submit▪
And SOCRATES himself a while forget.
Thus when old CATO wou'd sometimes unbend
The rugged Stiffness of his Mind,
Stern and severe, the Stoic quaff'd his Bowl,
His frozen Virtue felt the Charm,
And soon grew pleas'd, and soon grew warm,
And blest the sprightly Pow'r that chear'd his gloomy Soul.
IV.
With kind Constraint ill Nature thou dost bend,
And mold the snarling Cynic to a Friend.
The Sage reserv'd, and fam'd for Gravity,
Finds all he knows summ'd up in thee,
And by thy Pow'r unlock'd, grows easy, gay, and free.
The Swain, who did some credulous Nymph perswade
To grant him all, inspir'd by thee,
Devotes her to his Vanity,
And to his fellow Fops toasts the abandon'd Maid.
V.
The Wretch, who press'd beneath a Load of Cares,
And lab'ring with continual Woes, despairs,
If thy kind Warmth does his chill'd Sense invade,
From Earth he rears his drooping Head,
Reviv'd by thee, he ceases now to mourn;
His flying Cares give way to haste,
And to the God resign his Breast,
Where Hopes of better Days, and better Things return.
VI.
The lab'ring Hind, who with hard Toyl and Pains,
Amidst his Wants a wretched Life maintains;
If thy rich Juice his homely Supper crown,
Hot with thy Fires, and bolder grown,
Of Kings, and of their Arbitrary Pow'r▪
And how by impious Arms they reign,
Fiercely he talks with rude Disdain,
And vows to be a Slave, to be a Wretch no more.
VII.
Fair Queen of Love, and thou great God of Wine,
Hear ev'ry Grace, and all ye Pow'rs Divine,
All that to Mirth and Friendship do incline,
Crown this auspicious Cask, and happy Night,
With all things that can give Delight,
Be every Care and anxious Thought away;
Ye Tapers still be bright and clear,
Rival the Moon, and each pale Star,
Your Beams shall yield to none, but his who brings the Day.
HORACE,
Book
IV.
Ode
1. Ad VENEREM.
Intermissa, Venus, diu
Rursus bella moves?
ONce more the Queen of Love invades my Breast,
Late, with long Ease, and peaceful Pleasures blest;
Spare, spare the Wretch, that still has been thy Slave,
And let my former Service have
The Merit to protect me to the Grave.
Much am I chang'd from what I once have been,
When under CYNARA good and fair,
With Joy I did thy Fetters wear,
Blest in the gentle Sway of an indulgent Queen.
II.
Stiff and unequal to the Labour now,
With Pain my Neck beneath thy Yoak I bow.
Why dost thou urge me still to bear? Oh! why
Dost thou not much rather fly
To youthful Breasts, to Mirth and Gaiety?
Go, bid thy Swans their glossy Wings expand,
And swiftly thro' the yielding Air
To SYLVIA Thee their Goddess bear,
Worthy to be Thy Slave, and fit for thy Command.
III.
Noble, and graceful, witty, gay, and young,
Joy in his Heart, Love on his charming Tongue.
Skill'd in a thousand soft prevailing Arts,
With wondrous Force the Youth imparts
Thy Pow'r to unexperienc'd Virgins Hearts.
Far shall he stretch the Bounds of thy Command,
And if thou shalt his Wishes bless,
Beyond his Rivals with Success,
In Gold and Marble shall thy Statues stand.
IV.
Beneath the Sacred Shade of
Odel
's Wood,
Or on the Banks of
Ouse
's gentle Flood,
With od'rous Beams a Temple he shall raise,
For ever sacred to thy Praise,
Till the fair Stream, and Wood, and Love it self decays.
There while rich Incense on Thy Altar burns,
Thy Votaries, the Nymphs and Swains,
In melting soft harmonious Strains,
Mixt with the softer Flutes, shall tell their Flames by turns.
V.
As Love and Beauty with the Light are born,
So with the Day thy Honours shall return;
Some lovely Youth, pair'd with a blushing Maid,
A Troop of either Sex shall lead,
And twice the
Salian
Measures round thy Altar tread.
Thus with an equal Empire o'er the Light,
The Queen of Love, and God of Wit,
Together rise, together sit,
But Goddess do thou stay, and bless alone the Night.
VI.
There mayst thou reign, while I forget to love:
No more false Beauty shall my Passion move;
Nor shall my fond, believing Heart be led,
By mutual Vows and Oaths betray'd,
To hope for Truth from the protesting Maid.
With Love the sprightly Joys of Wine are sled;
The Roses too shall wither now,
That us'd to shade and crown my Brow,
And round my chearful Temples fragrant Odours shed.
VII.
But tell me, CYNTHIA, say, bewitching Fair,
What mean these Sighs? Why steals this falling Tear?
And when my strugling Thoughts for Passage strove,
Why did my Tongue refuse to move?
Tell me, can this be any thing but Love?
Still with the Night my Dreams my Griefs renew,
Still she is present to my Eyes,
And still in vain, I, as she flies,
O'er Woods, and Plains, and Seas, the scornful Maid persue.
HORACE
Book
I.
Epist.
IV. Ad ALBIUM TIBULLUM.
ALBI,
nostrorum sermonum candide judex.
Inscribed to R. THORNHILL,
Esq
THORNHILL, whom doubly to my Heart commend
The Critick's Art, and Candour of a Friend,
Say what thou dost in thy Retirement find
Worthy the Labours of thy active Mind?
Whether the Tragick Muse inspires thy Thought,
To emulate what moving OTWAY wrote;
Or whether to the Covert of some Grove
Thou and thy Thoughts do from the World remove,
Where to thy self thou all those Rules dost show,
That Good Men ought to practise, or Wise know.
For sure thy Mass of Man, is no dull Clay,
But well inform'd with the Celestial Ray.
The bounteous Gods, to thee compleatly kind,
In a fair Frame inclos'd thy fairer Mind:
And tho' they did profusely Wealth bestow,
They gave thee the true Use of Wealth to know.
Cou'd ev'n the Nurse wish for her darling Boy
A Happiness which thou dost not enjoy,
What can her fond Ambition ask, beyond
A Soul by Wisdom's noblest Precepts crown'd?
To this, fair Speech, and happy Utterance join'd,
To unlock the secret Treasures of the Mind,
And make the Blessing common to Mankind.
On these let Health and Reputation wait,
The Favour of the Virtuous and the Great.
A Table cheerfully and cleanly spread,
Stranger alike to Riot and to Need.
Such an Estate as no Extreams may know,
A free and just Disdain for all things else below.
Amidst uncertain Hopes, and anxious Cares,
Tumultuous Strife, and miserable Fears,
Prepare for all Events thy constant Breast,
And let each Day be to Thee as thy last.
That Morning's Dawn will with new Pleasure rise,
Whose Light shall unexpected bless thy Eyes.
Me, when to Town in Winter you repair,
Batt'ning in Ease you'll find, sleek, fresh and fair.
Me, who have learnt from EPICURUS Lore,
To snatch the Blessings of the flying Hour;
Whom every
Friday
at the
Vine
you'll find,
His true Disciple, and your faithful Friend.
UNIO.
DUM
Rosa
purpureo suffunditur ora rubore,
Spina
gravis nitidi floris amore calat.
Protinus armorum ponit pacatior iras,
Et jam blanda suae porrigit ora
Rosae.
Ut videt alternis ambas concurrere votis,
Quae regit hortorum maxima
FLORA,
vices
Faelices jubet hinc coeant in foedera, utrisque
Unus, & ex Uno stemmate surgat honos.
Tu decus aeternum, dixit, mea, da,
Rosa, Spinae,
Et tu perpetuam protege,
Spina, Rosam.
English'd
by the
AUTHOR.
WHile rich in brightest Red, the blushing
Rose
Her freshest op'ning Beauties did disclose;
Her, the rough
Thistle,
from a neighb'ring Field,
With fond Desires and Lovers Eyes beheld:
Streight the fierce Plant lays by his pointed Darts,
And woes the gentle Flower with softer Arts.
Kindly she heard, and did his Flame approve,
And own'd the Warrior worthy of her Love.
FLORA, whose happy Laws the Seasons guide,
Who does in Fields and painted Meads preside,
And crowns the Gardens with their Flow'ry Pride,
With Pleasure saw the wishing Pair combine
To favour what their Goddess did design,
And bid 'em in Eternal UNION join.
Henceforth, she said, in each returning Year,
One Stem the
Thistle
and the
Rose
shall bear:
The
Thistle
's lasting Grace, Thou, O my
Rose!
shalt be,
The warlike
Thistle
's Arms, a sure Defence to Thee.
EPIGRAM.
To the Two New
Members
for
BRAMBER, 1708.
THO' in the
Commons-House
you did prevail,
Good Sir CLEEVE MOORE, and gentle Master HALE;
Yet on Good Luck be cautious of relying,
Burgess
for
Bramber
is no Place to die in.
Your Predecessors have been odly fated;
ASGILL and SHIPPEN have been both
Translated.
EPILOGUE Spoken by Mrs. BARRY, At the Theatre Royal in
Drury Lane,
April
the 7
th,
1709.
At her Playing in
Love for Love
with Mrs. BRACEGIRDLE, for the Benefit of Mr. BETTERTON.
AS Some Brave
Knight,
who once with Spear and Shield
Had sought Renown in many a wellfought Field,
But now no more with Sacred Fame inspir'd,
Was to a peaceful Hermitage retir'd;
There, if by Chance disastrous Tales he hears,
Of Matrons Wrongs, and captive Virgins Tears,
He feels soft Pity urge his Gen'rous Breast,
And vows once more, to succour the Distress'd.
Buckl'd in
Mail
he sallies on the Plain,
And turns him to the Feats of Arms again.
SO We, to former Leagues of Friendship true,
Have bid once more our peaceful Homes Adieu,
To aid old THOMAS, and to pleasure you.
Like Errant Damsels boldly we Engage,
Arm'd, as you see, for the Defenceless Stage.
Time was, when this Good Man no Help did lack,
And scorn'd that any
She,
should hold his Back;
But now, so Age and Frailty have ordain'd,
By
Mrs.
Barry
and Mrs.
Bracegirdle,
clasp him round the Waste.
two at once he's forc'd to be sustain'd.
You see, what failing Nature brings Man to;
And yet let none insult, for ought we know,
She may not wear so well with some of you.
Tho' old, you find his Strength is not clean past,
But true as Steel, he's Mettle to the last.
If better he perform'd in Days of Yore,
Yet now he gives you all that's in his Pow'r;
What can the Youngest of you all do more?
WHAT he has been, tho' present Praise be dumb,
Shall haply be a Theme in Times to come,
As now we talk of ROSCIUS, and of
Rome.
Had you with-held your Favours on this Night,
Old SHAKESPEAR'S Ghost had ris'n to do him Right.
With Indignation had you seen him frown
Upon a Worthless, Witless, Tastless Town;
Griev'd and repining, you had heard him say,
Why are the Muses Labours cast away?
Why did I write what only he could Play?
But since, like Friends to Wit, thus throng'd you meet,
Go on, and make the Gen'rous Work compleat;
Be true to Merit, and still own his Cause,
Find something for him more than bare Applause.
In just Remembrance of your Pleasures past,
Be kind, and give him a Discharge at last.
In Peace and Ease Life's Remnant let him wear,
And hang his consecrated Buskin
Pointing to the Top of the Stage.
here.
On the Last Judgment, and Happiness of the Saints in Heaven.
IN that blest Day, from ev'ry Part the Just,
Rais'd from the liquid Deep, or mould'ring Dust,
The various Products of Time's fruitful Womb,
All of past Ages, present, and to come,
In full Assembly shall at once resort,
And meet within high Heaven's capacious Court:
There famous Names rever'd in Days of old,
Our great Forefathers there we shall behold,
From whom old Stocks and Ancestry began,
And worthily in long Succession ran;
The Reverend Sires with Pleasure shall we greet,
Attentive hear, while faithful they repeat
Full many a virtuous Deed, and many a noble Feat.
There, all those tender Ties, which here below,
Or Kindred, or more sacred Friendship know,
Firm, constant, and unchangeable shall grow.
Refin'd from Passion, and the Dregs of Sense,
A better, truer, dearer Love from thence,
Its everlasting Being shall commence;
There, like their Days, their Joys shall ne'er be done,
No Night shall rise, to shade Heav'ns glorious Son,
But one Eternal Holy Day go on.
FINIS.
Just Publish'd the following Books, printed with an
Elzevir
Letter in neat Pocket Volumes, Adorn'd with Cuts.
I. MR. CREECH'S Translation of the
Idylliums
(or,
Love Dialogues, &c.)
of that Antient
Greek
Poet THEOCRITUS; viz. 1.
The Lamentation for
Thyrsis,
who died for Love.
2.
The Inchantment, or the Forsaken Nymph.
3.
The Coy Mistress.
4. Comatas
and
Laco: or,
The Prize of Singing.
5.
The Loves of
Polyphemus
and
Galatea. 6.
The Praise of Love.
7.
The Remedy of Love.
8.
The tatling Gossips: Or, the Feast of
Adonis. 9.
An Epithalamium at the Marriage of
Helena
and
Menelaus. 10.
Advice to a Friend to be constant in his Love.
11.
The Cruel Fair One.
12.
The Death of
Pentheus
King of
Thebes,
whom his Mother and Aunts tore in pieces for disturbing the Solemnities of
Bacchus. To which is prefix'd
Rapin
's Discourse upon Pastorals; also the Life of
Theocritus,
by
Basil Kennet,
M. A. of
C. C. C. Oxon.
Price 2
s.
6
d.
II. The Works of ANACREON, SAPPHO, and BION, with their Lives Prefix'd. Done from the
Greek
by the late Earl of
Winchelsea,
Mr.
Ambrose Phillips,
Mr.
Sewell,
&c. Containing, 1.
Cupid, or the Cunning Beggar.
2.
Love and Beauty.
3.
The Dream.
4.
The Vain Advice.
5.
The Enjoyment.
6.
The Praise of
Bacchus. 7.
The Jolly Drunkard.
8.
The Careless Companions.
9.
The Drunkard's Delight.
10.
The Effects of Wine.
To which is added,
The Prize of Wisdom,
a Dialogue between
Anacreon
and
Aristotle,
from the
French
of M.
Fontanelle.
Price 2
s.
BOOKS lately Printed for
E. CURLL.
I. THE Whole Works of M. BOILEAU. Made
English
by the most Eminent Hands: With his Life written to JOSEPH ADDISON,
Esq
and some Account of this Translation, by N. ROWE,
Esq
Adorn'd with Cuts. 8
vo.
3 Vol. Price 15
s.
II. The Works of Mons. DE LA BRUYERE, containing, 1. The
Moral Characters
of
Theophrastus.
2. The
Characters,
or the
Manners of the Present Age,
with a compleat Key inserted. 3. M.
Bruyere
's Speech upon his Admission into the
French Academy.
4. An Account of the Life and Writings of M.
Bruyere,
by M. COSTE. The 6
th
Edition. Revis'd by the last
Paris
Edition. With an Original Chapter,
Of the Manner of living with Great Men.
Written after M.
Bruyere
's Method. By N. ROWE,
Esq
2 Vol. 8
vo.
Price 9
s.
III. CALLIPAEDIA (or, the Art of getting Beautiful Children.) A POEM, in Four Books. Written in
Latin
by the Abbot
Quillet.
Made
English
by N. ROWE,
Esq
8
vo.
Price 4
s.
IV. MEMOIRS of K. EDWARD IV. and JANE SHORE; being an Impartial Account of their Amours, and their Character fully drawn. Extracted from the best Historians. Very necessary for the Readers of her Tragedy, written by N. ROWE,
Esq
4
to.
Price 6
d.
V. A Collection of Original Poems, Translations, and Imitations. By Mr. PRIOR, Mr. ROWE, Dr. SWIFT, and other Eminent Hands. 8
vo.
Price 5
s.
The Exceptionable
PASSAGES
left out in the Acting and Printing of the Tragedy of
JANE SHORE.
ACT III.
SCENE the Duke of
Gloster
and Lord
Hastings.
—Have you not heard
How, on a late Occasion, Dr.
Shaw
Has mov'd the People much about the Lawfulness
Of
Edward
's Issue? by right grave Authority
Of Learning and Religion, plainly proving,
A Bastard Scyon never should be grafted
Upon a Royal Stock.—
Ill befall
Such medling Priests, who kindle up Confusion,
And vex the quiet World with their vain Scruples.
By Heav'n 'tis done in perfect Spite to Peace,
As if they fear'd their Trade were at an End
If Laymen should agree.—
What if the same Estates, the Lords and Commons, should alter—
What?
The Order of Succession.
Curse on the innovating Hand attempts it!
Remember him, the Villain, righteous Heaven,
In thy great Day of Vengeance! blast the Traytor,
And his pernicious Counsels; who for Wealth,
For Pow'r, the Pride of Greatness, or Revenge,
Would plunge his native Land in Civil Wars.
FINIS.
Just Publish'd,
THE Gentleman's Accomptant; or, An Essay to unfold the Mystery of Accompts by way of Debtor and Creditor, commonly called Merchants Accompts, and applying the same to the Concerns of the Nobility and Gentry of
England.
Shewing, I. The great Advantage of Gentlemens keeping their own Accompts, with Directions to Persons of Quality and Fortune. II. The Ruin that attends Men of Estates, by Neglect of Accompts. III. The Usefulness of the Knowledge of Accompts, to such as are any way employ'd in the Publick Affairs of the Nation. IV. Of Banks, those of
Venice
and the
Turkey
Company. V. Of Stocks and Stock-Jobbing; the Frauds therein detected. VI. A short and easy Vocabulary of certain Words, that in the Language of Accompting take a particular Meaning. Done by a Person of Honour. Printed for
E. Curll,
at the
Dial
and
Bible
against St.
Dunstan
's Church in
Fleetstreet.
1714. Price 4.
s.
Plain, or 5
s.
neatly Bound and Gilt.