d at London 1682. Our author
has a long preface to this play, in which he vindicates his piece from
the charge of reflecting upon the church, and the sacred order. He
apologizes for the magical part, and observes, that he had no hopes of
equaling Shakespear in his fancy, who created his Witches for the most
part out of his imagination; in which faculty no man ever excelled led
him, and therefore, says he, I resolve to take mine from authority.

12. The Woman Captain, a Comedy; acted by his royal highness's servants.

13. The Squire of Alsatia, a Comedy; acted by his Majesty's servants,
printed at London 1688, in 4to. and dedicated to the earl of Dorset and
Middlesex.

14. Bury-Fair, a Comedy; acted by his Majesty's servants, printed
at London 1689 in 4to. and dedicated to the earl of Dorset. In the
dedication he observes, 'That this play was written during eight months
painful sickness, wherein all the several days in which he was able to
write any part of a scene amounted not to one month, except some few,
which were employed in indispensible business.'

15. Amorous Bigot, with the second part of Teague O Divelly, a Comedy,
acted by their Majesties servants, printed 1690 in 4to. dedicated to
Charles earl of Shrewsbury.

16. The Scowerers, a Comedy, acted by their Majesties servants, and
printed in 4to. 1690.

17. The Volunteers, or the Stock-Jobbers, a Comedy, acted by their
Majesties servants, dedicated to the Queen by Mrs. Anne Shadwell, our
author's widow.

In the epilogue the character of Mr. Shadwell, who was then dead, was
given in the following lines.

Shadwell, the great support o'th'comic stage,
Born to expose the follies of the age,
To whip prevailing vices, and unite,
Mirth with instruction, profit with delight;
For large ideas, and a flowing pen,
First of our times, and second but to Ben;
Whose mighty genius, and discerning mind,
Trac'd all the various humours of mankind;
Dressing them up, with such successful care
That ev'ry fop found his own picture there.
And blush'd for shame, at the surprising skill,
Which made his lov'd resemblance look so ill.
Shadwell who all his lines from nature drew,
Copy'd her out, and kept her still in view;
Who never sunk in prose, nor soar'd in verse,
So high as bombast, or so low as farce;
Who ne'er was brib'd by title or estate
To fawn or flatter with the rich or great;
To let a gilded vice or folly pass,
But always l