nders mercy back for mercy,
With open-handed bounty shall repay you:
This gentle deed shall fairly he set foremost,
To screen the wild escapes of lawless passion,
And the long train of frailties flesh is heir to.

_Glos._ Thus far, the voice of pity pleaded only:
Our further and more full extent of grace
Is given to your request. Let her attend,
And to ourself deliver up her griefs.
She shall be heard with patience, and each wrong
At full redress'd. But I have other news,
Which much import us both; for still my fortunes
Go hand in hand with yours: our common foes,
The queen's relations, our new-fangled gentry,
Have fall'n their haughty crests--that for your privacy. [_exeunt._

SCENE II. AN APARTMENT IN JANE SHORE'S HOUSE.

_Enter Belmour and Dumont._

_Bel._ How she has liv'd you have heard my tale already;
The rest your own attendance in her family,
Where I have found the means this day to place you,
And nearer observation, best will tell you.
See with what sad and sober cheer she comes.

_Enter Jane Shore._

Sure, or I read her visage much amiss,
Or grief besets her hard. Save you, fair lady,
The blessings of the cheerful morn be on you,
And greet your beauty with its opening sweets.

_Jane S._ My gentle neighbour! your good wishes still
Pursue my hapless fortunes; ah! good Belmour!
How few, like thee, inquire the wretched out,
And court the offices of soft humanity.
Like thee, reserve their raiment for the naked,
Reach out their bread to feed the crying orphan,
Or mix their pitying tears with those that weep.
Thy praise deserves a better tongue than mine,
To speak and bless thy name. Is this the gentleman,
Whose friendly service you commended to me?

_Bel._ Madam, it is.

_Jane S._ A venerable aspect! [_aside._

Age sits with decent grace upon his visage,
And worthily becomes his silver locks;
He wears the marks of many years well spent,
Of virtue, truth well tried, and wise experience;
A friend like this would suit my sorrows well.
Fortune, I fear me, sir, has meant you ill, [_to Dumont._
Who pays your merit with that scanty pittance,
Which my poor hand and humble roof can give.
But to supply those golden vantages,
Which elsewhere you might find, expect to meet
A just regard and value for your worth,
The welcome of a friend, and the free partnership
Of all that little good the world allows me.

_Dum._ You over-rate me much; and all my answer
Must be my future truth; let that