To the Right Honourable PHILIP, Earl of Chesterfield, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, &c. &c. &c. His Majesty's Ambassador Extraordinary to the States-General, and Knight of the most Noble Order of the Garter.

This Play, which throws itself at Your Lordship's Feet, without any previous Permission to approach You, begs for no farther Protection than Your impartial Judgment would afford it, though the Author had not the Honour to be known to You. The favourable Reception it has met with on the Theatre, 'tis true, demands my grateful Acknowledgments; but I must

restrain my Vanity from taking any Advantage of this Success, till your Lordship's farther Approbation has pass'd those Favours into a legal Act of Grace. All I can say in excuse of my Presumption is, that, if I could have found a Judge more learned in the Dramatick Laws, your Lordship had not been troubled with this Appeal; and though I offer it at a Time when your Attention to Causes of a quite different Nature will scarce leave You Leisure to look upon more than the Title-page; yet am I not so impatient for Fame, as to conclude I can have any Right to it, till Your Lordship's Opinion has decreed it me. Or if, at worst, it should fall short of that Honour, even Your Dispraises have so uncommon a Charm in them, that if my Vanity could be quiet, I am not sure I should not chuse, even in so tender a Point, to deserve them: Your Rallery on my Errors has sometimes given me more Pleasure than the daintiest Compliments of a flat Civility. But as the Publick is not bound to indulge me in so extravagant an Excuse for my Defects, I must allow

they have a Right to be as severe upon them as they please; reserving to my self the Resolution to be still contented, if Your Lordship should be favourable to me.

I shall not trouble your Lordship with a critical Examen, or Comparison between this Play and the King John of Shakespear, any farther than just to mention the principal Motive that first set me to work upon it.

In all the historical Plays of Shakespear there is scarce any Fact, that might better have employed his Genius, than the flaming Contest between his insolent Holiness and King John. This is so remarkable a Passage in our Histories, that it seems surprizing our Shakespear should have taken no more Fire at it; especially when we find from how much less a Spark of Contention in his first Act of Harry the fourth, he has thrown his Hotspur into a more naturally fomented Rage, than ever ancient or modern Author has come up to, and has maintain'd that Character throughout the Play with the same inimitable Spirit. How then shall we account for his being so cold upon a

so much higher Provocation? Shall we suppose, that in those Days, almost in the Infancy of the Reformation, when Shakespear wrote, when the Influence of the Papal Power had a stronger Party left, than we have reason to believe is now subsisting among us; that this, I say, might make him cautious of offending? Or shall we go so far for an Excuse, as to conclude that Shakespear was himself a Catholick? This some Criticks have imagin'd to be true, from the solemn Description of Purgatory given us by his Ghost in Hamlet; yet here, I doubt, the Conjecture is too strong; that Description being rather to be consider'd simply as a poetical Beauty, and critically proper to a Catholick Character, than offer'd as a real Point or Declaration of his own Faith. Had Shakespear been a Romanist, he would scarce have let his King John have taken the following Liberty with his Holiness, where he contemns the Credulity of Philip the French King that can submit to—

This is too sharp a Truth to be suppos'd could come from the Pen of a Roman-Catholick. If then he was under no Restraint from his Religion, it will require a nicer Criticism than I am master of to excuse his being so cold upon so warm an Occasion.

It was this Coldness than, my Lord, that first incited me to inspirit his King John with a Resentment that justly might become an English Monarch, and to paint the intoxicated Tyranny of Rome in its proper Colours. And so far, at least, my Labour has succeeded, that the additional Sentiments which King John throws out upon so flagrant a Provocation, were receiv'd with those honest cordial Applauses, which English Auditors I foresaw would be naturally warm'd to. My Success in this Point, which I had chiefly at heart, makes me almost unconcern'd for what may be judged of the farther Mechanism of the Play: I have endeavour'd to make it more like a Play than what I found it in Shakespear, and if your Lordship should find it so, my Ambition has no farther Views.

Your Taste in Poetry, my Lord, tho' naturally candid, wants not the quickest Eye to Imperfections; and tho' no Man's playful Muse has more Beauties than Your own, yet is not Your Fondness for them so strong as to be cool in Your Praises, when another makes a Flight that comes near you. A poetical Rival (if he could be found) might excite you to excel, but never enough disturb You to dispraise him. This being Your natural Disposition, from whom could I hope for equal Justice or Favour?

I now, my Lord, take my leave without the labour'd Compliments of a modern Dedicator. Your many great Qualities are too well known to the World to want a poetical Herald to proclaim them. It is to the private Man of Quality then I only make this Address: and 'tis an uncommon Pleasure to one of my advanced Age to have been thrown into a Habitude, that so frequently has permitted me to have an occasional Share in the Delight of Your unbending Hours. But since Your lately acquired Honours, which are honour'd by

Your wearing them, have lifted You so far above the reach of my former Approaches, all I can at this distance aspire to, is to throw my cordial Wishes after You. May Your elevated Station never lead You beyond the Bounds of rational Happiness! That when You think fit to resign it, You may return to the private World, as You left it, the most agreeable Gentleman that ever brought Gladness into sensible Society. I am,

My Lord,
Your Lordship's most oblig'd,
and obedient humble Servant,
COLLEY CIBBER.

Feb. 25, 1744–5.