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advocate in his favour, whose heart and mind you have so entire a share in: it is my only portion and my fortune; I cannot but be happy, so long as I have but hopes I may enjoy it; and I must be miserable, should it ever be my ill fate to lose it.

This, with eternal wishes for Your Royal Highness's content, happiness, and prosperity, in all humility is presented by

Your most obedient,

And devoted Servant,

THO. OTWAY.

VOL. II.

A

PROLOGUE.

To you, great judges in this writing age,
The sons of wit, and patrons of the stage,

With all those humble thoughts, which still have sway'd
His pride, much doubting, trembling, and afraid
Of what is to his want of merit due,

And aw'd by ev'ry excellence in you,

The author sends to beg you would be kind,
And spare those many faults you needs must find.
You to whom wit a common foe is grown,
The thing ye soorn and publicly disown;
Tho' now perhaps you're here for other ends,
He swears to me, ye ought to be his friends:
For he ne'er call'd ye yet insipid tools;
Nor wrote one line to tell you ye were fools:
But says of wit ye have so large a store,
So very much, you never will have more.
He ne'er with libel treated yet the town,
The names of honest men bedaub'd and shown;
Nay, never once lampoon'd the harmless life
Of suburb-virgin, or of city-wife.

Satire's th' effect of poetry's disease;

Which, sick of a lewd age, she vents for ease,
But now her only strife should be to please;
Since of ill fate the baneful cloud's withdrawn,
And happiness again begins to dawn;
Since back with joy and triumph he is come
That always drew fears hence, neʼer brought 'em home.
Oft has he plow'd the boist'rous ocean o'er
Yet ne'er more welcome to the longing shore,
Not when he brought home victories before.
For then fresh laurels flourish'd on his brow;
And he comes crown'd with olive-branches now;
Receive him! oh receive himn as his friends;
Embrace the blessings which he recommends:
Such quiet as your foes shall ne'er destroy;

Then shake off fears, and clap your hands for joy.

* The Duke of York; who had returned from Brussels, whither he retired to escape the clamours of the Anti-papists.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

ACASTO, a Nobleman retired from Court, and living privately in the Country.

CASTALIO,

POLYDORE,

his Sons.

CHAMONT, a young Soldier of Fortune.
ERNESTO,

PAULINO, Servants in the Family.

CORDELIO, Polydore's Page.

Chaplain.

MONIMIA, the Orphan, left under the Guardianship of old

Acasto.

SERINA, Acasto's Daughter.

FLORELLA, Monimia's Woman.

SCENE, Bohemia,

THE ORPHAN.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Enter PAULINO and ERNESTO.

Paul. "Tis strange, Ernesto, this severity Should still reign pow'rful in Acasto's mind, To hate the court, where he was bred, and liv'd, All honours heap'd on him that pow'r could give. Ern. 'Tis true, he hither came a private gentleman, But young and brave, and of a family Ancient and noble as the empire holds. The honours he has gain'd are justly his: He purchas'd them in war; thrice has he led An army 'gainst the rebels, and as often Return'd with victory: the world has not .A truer soldier, or a better subject.

Paul. It was his virtue at first made me serve him; He is the best of masters, as of friends:

I know he has lately been invited thither;

Yet still he keeps his stubborn purpose; cries,
He's old, and willingly would be at rest:
I doubt there's deep resentment in his mind,
For the late slight his honour suffer'd there.

Ern. Has he not reason? When for what he had
borne,

Long, hard, and faithful toil, he might have claim'd
Places in honour, and employment high;

A huffing, shining, flatt'ring, cringing coward,
A canker-worm of peace, was rais'd above him.