Francis Drake, Esq., before mentioned, was advanced to the dignity of a baronet 20 Jac. I., and, in 25 of that reign, he was representative in Parliament for Plymouth, in that county, and 3 Car. I., knight of the shire for Devon. He married two wives; first, Jane, daughter of Sir Amias Bampfylde, of Pottimore, in county Devon, Knt., by whom he had one daughter, Dorothy, that died an infant; secondly, Joan, daughter of Sir William Strode, of Newnham, in Devon, Knt., by whom he had four sons: 1. Sir Francis, his successor; 2. Thomas, who married the daughter of Grimes, Esq., and was father of Sir Francis, hereafter mentioned; 3. Drake of Ivybridge; and 4. Joseph.

Drake's last voyage was to the West Indies, in 1595. He set sail from Plymouth on the 28th Aug. On "22d Jan. 1596 they departed from Scoday to an island near Nombre de Dios, and two days after came to Portobello; where, the same day they arrived, our famous hero, Sir Francis Drake, departed this life, his death being supposed to be much hastened by his unsuccessfulness in this voyage; his greater spirit, always accustomed to victory and success, not being able to bear the least check of fortune, which occasioned such melancholy thoughts as were thought to be a chief cause of his end. His death was exceedingly lamented by all the Company, who lookt upon him to be the life and soul of their enterprizes and undertakings. His interment was after this manner: his body, being put into a coffin of lead, was let down into the sea, the trumpets in a doleful manner echoing out their lamentation for so great a loss, and all the cannon in the fleet were discharged, according to the custom of all sea funeral obsequies.. And thus having brought our renowned knight through so many dangers and adventures to his watery grave, we will take our leave of him with this short epitaph, written upon him many years since:

"Where Drake first found these last, he lost his name,
And for a tomb left nothing but his fame;
His body's buried under some great wave,

The sea that was his glory is his grave;

Of whom an epitaph none can truly make;

For who can say, Here lies Sir Francis Drake ?"

PAGE.

BOATSWAIN.

STEERSMAN.

MARINERS.

ENGLISH LAND-SOLDIERS.

SEA-CARPENTERS.

SYMERONS.

PERUVIANS.

DANCERS.

ACT 4.

THE CRUELTY OF THE SPANIARDS IN PERU. PLAYER.

HOUSEKEEPER.

THE TWO ROYAL BRETHREN, Sons of the last
Inca.

PRIEST OF THE SUN.

ENGLISH MARINERS AND SOLDIERS.

SPANISH SOLDIERS.

PERUVIANS, Male and Female.

ACT 5.

TRAGEDY TRAVESTIE.

PLAYER.

HOUSEKEEPER.

CÆSAR.

MARK ANTHONY.

LEPIDUS.

PTOLOMY.

NIMPHIDIUS.

EUNUCHS.

CLEOPATRA.

GYPSIES, Male and Female.

PROLOGUE.

SINCE you affect things new, what I'm to say
Shall be as great a novel as our play,

Custom would have me speak a prologue now,
But that we may entire adherence show
To novelty (which in the mode of plays
Like sovereign nature over custom sways)
I mean my prologue shall a riddle be;
And thus propound it to the company.

A teeming muse, big with imagination,
Conceived a monster of so new a fashion,
That of the hasty birth b'ing brought to bed,
We found it neither had a tail nor head.
The limbs are such, as no proportion bear,
No correspondence have, and yet cohere :
Of several use, and several forms they be,
Yet in the whole contexture they agree:
They are disjoin'd yet united too,
Which cannot but a monster seem to you;
Yet such a monster 'tis, as you'll admit
For pleasure, and still pay for nursing it.

I see y'are puzzl'd; but we so despise Th'advantage we might make by a surprise, That to unriddle this, you here may come And join your heads together in one room, Where, for your money, you shall sit at ease, Two hours a day, till Christmas if you please.

THE PLAY-HOUSE TO BE LET.

THE FIRST ACT.

The SCENE opens, and upon two stools are discover'd the TIRE-WOMAN and CHAR-WOMAN, one shelling of beans, and the other sewing.

Enter PLAYER and HOUSE-KEEPER. PLAY. WHAT! shelling of beans? 'tis a proper work

For the long vacation. You may e'en dry 'em
In the sun, and lay 'em up in the tiring-house
For the players: they may get bacon to 'em
When the Term comes.

HOUS-K. Nay, you may work on too; 'tis hospital ware:

Coarse shirts for the poor poets.

[Knocking heard at door. PLAY. Are they mad? Sure, they take the play

house for The church-yard o'er the way; and mean to wake Our dead neighbours. What would you have? [Knocking again. TIRE-W. Pray, knock civilly! I believe it is Some country poet with a stock of plays. He brings his ware to sell when the fair's done. [Knocking again. PLAY. Some university muse is in hard labour, And she takes our Tire-woman for a midwife. Open the door!

[Exit Hous-K. and enter again with MONSIEUR. MONS. Be you von, two, tree of de teatre ? HOUS-K. We are standing properties of the play-house,