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THE

MAID'S TRAGEDY.

ALTER'D.

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SCARCE should we have the boldness to pretend
So long renown'd a Tragedy to mend:
Had not already fome deferv'd your praise
With like attempt. Of all our elder plays,
This, and PHILASTER, have the loudeft fame:
Great are their faults, and glorious is their fame.
In both, our ENGLISH genius is exprefs'd;
Lofty, and bold; but negligently drefs'd.

Above our neighbours our conceptions are :
But, faultless writing is th' effect of care.
Our lines reform'd, and not compos'd in bafie,
Polish'd like marble, would like marble laft.
But, as the prefent, fo the laft age writ;
In both we find like negligence, and wit.
Were we but lefs indulgent to our faults,
And patience had to cultivate our thoughts,
Our Mufe would flourish; and a nobler rage
Would bonor this, than did the GRECIAN, Stage.
Thus fays our Author; not content to see
That others write as carelessly as he :
Tho' he pretends not to make things complete,
Yet, to please you, he'd have the Poets sweat.

In this old play, what's new we have exprest In rhiming verfe, diftinguish'd from the rest: That, as the RHONE its hafty way does make, (Not mingling waters) thro' GENEVA's lake: So, having here the diffrent ftyles in view, You may compare the former with the new.

H

If we lefs rudely shall the knot unty,
Soften the rigor of the Tragedy,

And yet preferve each perfon's character;
Then, to the other, this you may prefer.
'Tis left to you: the Boxes, and the Pit,
Are fou'reign judges of this fort of wit.
In other things the knowing artists may
Judge better than the people: but, a Play,
(Made for delight, and for no other use)
If you approve it not, has no excuse.

THE

MAID'S TRAGEDY.

ACT V.

Enter EVADNE, with a Page of honor.

A

EVADNE.

MINTOR loft, it were as vain a thing, As 'tis prodigious, to betray the King. Compell❜d by threats, to take that bloody oath, And the act ill I am abfolv'd by oath,

This ifland left, with pity I'll look down

On the King's love, and fierce MELANTIUS, frown. These will to both my refolution bring:

Page! give MELANTIUS that; this, to the King:
[Exit Page with the Letters.

Under how hard a fate are women born!
Priz'd to their ruin or expos'd to fcorn!
If we want beauty we of love defpair:
And are befieg'd, like frontier-towns, if fair.
The pow'r of Princes armies overthrows:
What can our sex against fuch force oppose?
Love, and ambition, have an equal share
In their vaft treafures; and it cofts as dear

To