REMARKS. Jane Shore. A TRAGEDY professedly written in the style of Shakspeare, may well claim a inore than ordinary share of attention; and its author must have been aware of the claim, for he was a learned and ingenious commentator of that immortal poet. To the memory of Rowe literary honour is justly due; and, if it becomes our duty as critics to point out how entirely he lost sight of the original he would fain bave copied, let us do justice to that genius, which, while it aspired to no higher honour than an imitator, insensibly became an original. It has been said that Spenser wrote no language at all-that his phraseology belongs neither to his own nor to the preceding age; that it is too modern to be ancient, and too ancient to be modern. Shakspeare, who followed hard upon him, has no barbarons terms, and few uncouth ones; his obscurity consists not in words or construction, but in temporary allusions and forgotten customs; and our language must undergo a total revolution, ere his style can be pronounced rude and antiquated. Spenser has been succesfully imitated, and has become partially obsolete, while Shakspeare has alike defied the hand of time and imitation. Time has only served to swell the loud trump of universal praise; and imitation haa never reached beyond, "By holy Paul ""Beshrew my heart!" and "Good morrow ty'e, Master Lieutenant!" The story of Jane Shore is well calculated for the display of tragic interest. It is interwoven with a well known portion of English history, and embraces characters and events highly important and pathetic. In selecting history for the groundwork of his drama, Rowe has certainly imitated Shakspeare; who rightly judged that that which could charm in the rude form of an ancient traditionary story or ballad, would prove lastingly attractive, when inspired by the genius of poetry. The incidents of this drama are conducted and developed with considerable skill, and the few capital characters are drawn with energy and power. Glo'ster is preserved with historical truth: he is wily, ferocious, and revengeful; daring in his designs, and prompt in their execution. The unshaken loyalty and ill-starred passion of Hastings-the jealousy, despair, and madness of Alicia, call forth the strongest emotions of pity and terror; while the sufferings, the contrition, the deep humiliation of Jane Shore, are depicted in such true colours, that Rowe had only to consult his own genius, to satisfy the judgment and subdue the heart. The language of this tragedy exhibits all the characteristics of the author's styleharmony, sweetness, and florid elegance. It has much pathos, but little strength, except in the parting interview between Jane Shore and Alicia, and in the council-scene, where Glo'ster accuses Jane Shore of sorcery. How forcibly is the effect of this pretended witchcraft conceived and expressed : "Behold my arm, thus blasted, dry, and withered, Like some untimely product of the season, Who, in conjunction with that harlot, Shore, Call fiends and spectres from the yawning deep, To torture and despoil me of my life." And the following abrupt reply to Lord Hastings is admirably characteristic of this cunning and implacable tyrant: "Lord Hastings, I arrest thee of high treason- I will not dine before his head be brought me : The rhyming couplets that conclude each act, however musically they fall upon the ear, are out of place in tragedy "Grief unaffected suits but ill with art, Or flowing numbers with a bleeding heart." Kemble's Glo'ster was wonderfully fine. His start, when he bared his withered arm, his rapid utterance half choaked with rage, and his far-beaming eye glaring beneath a profusion of raven-black hair, fully realized the terror of the scene. The noble burst of Mrs. Siddons, when, as Jane Shore, she invokes the blessings of Providence on Hastings for his fidelity to King Edward's children, was such as none but herself could reach; and her dying exclamation to her husband "Forgive me!-but forgive me!" was the last effort of a penitent and broken heart. D-G. gether in her chamber, nor overhear your design of going off to-night, nor find the bundles packed upEust. Ha, ha, ha! Luc. Why, aunt, you rave. Mrs. D. Brother, as I am a Christian woman Jus. W. Whew!-A Christian! no, no, she's an old maid. Mrs. D. She confessed the whole affair to me from first to last; and in this very place was down upon her marrowbones for half an hour together, to beg I would conceal it from you. Hodge. (L.) Oh Lord! Oh Lord! Mrs. D. What, sirrah, would you brazen me too? Take that. [Boxes him. Hodge. I wish you would keep your hands to yourself! you strike me, because you have been telling his worship stories. Jus. W. Why, sister, you are tipsy! Mrs. D. I tipsy, brother!-I-that never touch a drop of any thing strong from year's end to year's end; but now and then a little anniseed water, when I have got the cholic. Luc. Well, aunt, you have been complaining of the stomach-ach all day; and may have taken too powerful a dose of your cordial. Jus. W. Come, come, I see well enough how it is: this is a lie of her own invention, to make herself appear wise: but, you simpleton, did you not know I must find you out? Enter SIR WILLIAM MEADOWS, HAWTHORN, ROSETTA, and YOUNG MEADOWS, L. Young M. (L. c.) Bless me, sir! look who is yonder? [Pointing to EUs. on R. Sir W. (L. c.) Cocksbones, Jack, honest Jack, are you there? Eust. (R. c.) Plague on't, this rencounter is unlucky-Sir William, your servant. Sir W. (R. c.) Your servant, again, and again, heartily your servant; may I never do an ill turn, but I am glad to meet you. Jus. W. (R. C.) Pray, Sir William, are you acquainted with this person? Sir WV. (c.) What, with Jack Eustace? why he's my kinsman: his mother and I were cousin-Germans once 2 JANE SHORE. ACT I. SCENE I.—An Apartment in the Tower. Enter the DUKE of GLOSTER, SIR RICHARD Glos. (c.) Thus far success attends upon our councils, Sir R. (R. C.) Then take 'em to you, And wear them long and worthily: you are (For Edward's boys, the state esteems not of 'em,) The commonweal does her dependence make, And leans upon your highness' able hand. Cates. (L. c.) And yet to-morrow does the council meet To fix a day for Edward's coronation. Who can expound this riddle? Glos. That can I. Those lords are each one my approv'd good friends, Of special trust and nearness to my bosom: And howsoever busy they may seem, And diligent to bustle in the state, Their zeal goes on no further than we lead, |