"The most, such Iron Hearts we are, and such / The base Barbarity of Human Kind, / With Insolence and lewd Reproach pursu'd her, / Hooting and Railing, and with Villainous Hands / Gathering the Filth from out the common Ways, / To hurl upon her Head."
— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
I met her, as returning
In solemn Penance from the publick Cross.
Before her, certain Rascal Officers,
Slaves in Authority, the Knaves of Justice,
Proclaim'd the Tyrant Gloster's cruel Orders.
On either Side her march'd an ill look'd Priest,
Who with severe, with horrid haggard Eyes,
Did ever and anon by Turns upbraid her,
And thunder in her trembling Ear Damnation.
Around her, numberless the Rabble flow'd,
Shouldring each other, crowding for a View,
Gaping and Gazing, Taunting and Reviling;
Some Pitying, but those, alas! how few!
The most, such Iron Hearts we are, and such
The base Barbarity of Human Kind,
With Insolence and lewd Reproach pursu'd her,
Hooting and Railing, and with Villainous Hands
Gathering the Filth from out the common Ways,
To hurl upon her Head.
(V.i, p. 49)
See The Tragedy of Jane Shore. Written in Imitation of Shakespear's Style. By N. Rowe (London: Printed for Bernard Lintott, 1714).