Sar. What a happy dog you are, Doricourt! I might have been mad, beggared, or pistol'd, myself, without its being mentioned-But you, forsooth the whole female world is concerned for. I reported the state of your brain to five different women. The lip of the first trembled; the white bosom of the second heaved a sigh; the third ejaculated, and turned her eye to-the glass; the fourth blessed herself; and the fifth said, whilst she pinned a curl, Well, now perhaps he'll be an amusing companion: his native dulness was intolerable. Dor. Envy! sheer envy, by the smiles of Hebe! -There are no less than forty pair of the brightest eyes in town will drop crystals, when they hear of my misfortune. Sav. Well, but I have news for you.-Poor Hardy is confined to his bed; they say he is going out of the world by the first post, and he wants to give you his blessing. Dor. Ill! so il! I am sorry from my soul. He's a worthy little fellow-if he had not the gift of foreseeing so strongly. Sav. Well, you must go and take leave. Dor. What! to act the lunatic in the dying man's chamber? Sav. Exactly the thing; and will bring your business to a short issue: for his last commands must be, that you are not to marry his daughter. Dor. That's true, by Jupiter!-and yet, hang it, impose upon a poor fellow at so serious a moment!-I can't do it. Sav. You must, faith. I am answerable for your appearance, though it should be in a strait waistcoat. He knows your situation, and seems the more desirous of an interview. Dor. I don't like encountering Rackett.-She's an arch little devil, and will discover the cheat. Sav. There's a fellow!-Cheated ninety-nine women, and now afraid of the hundredth. Dor. And with reason- -for that hundredth is a widow. SCENE V.-HARDY'S. you iger than I am. [Aside.] Is Mr. Doricourt handsome? Mrs. R. Handsome, generous, young, and rich.-There's a husband for ye! Isn't he worth pulling caps for? Miss O. I'my conscience, the widow speaks as though she'd give cap, ears, and all for him. [Aside.] I wonder you didn't try to catch this wonderful man, Mrs. Rackett? Mrs. R. Really, Miss Ogle, I had not time. Besides, when I marry, so many stout young fellows will hang themselves, that, out of regard to society, in these sad times, I shall postpone it for a few years.-This will cost her a new lace.-I heard it crack. [Aside. Enter SIR GEORGE and LADY FRANCES. Sir G. Well, here we are. But where's the knight of the woful countenance? Mrs. R. Here soon, I hope night it will be without him. a for a woful Sir G. Oh fy! do you condescend to pun? Mrs. R. Why not? It requires genius to make reach it. I know a lawyer who writes them on good pun-some men of bright parts can't the back of his briefs; and says they are of great use-in a dry cause. Mrs. R. Laughed at-ay, to be sure; why, I could play the madman better than you. There! there she is! Now I have her! Ha, ha, ha! Dor. I'll leave the house:-I'm covered with confusion. [Going. Sir G. Stay, Sir.-You must not go. 'Twas [Exeunt. poorly done, Mr. Doricourt, to affect madness rather than fulfil your engagements. Enter MRS. RACKETT and MISS OGLE. Miss O. And so Miss Hardy is actually to be married to-night ? Mrs. R. If her fate does not deceive her. You are apprised of the scheme, and we hope it will succeed. Miss O. Deuce take her! she's six years Dor. Affect madness! Saville, what can I do? Sar. Since you are discovered, confess the whole. Dor. Yes; since my designs have been se unaccountably discovered, I will avow the whole. I cannot love Miss Hardy, and I will never Sav. Hold, my dear Doricourt! What will the world say to such Dor. Damn the world! What will the world Vil. The dying Mr. Hardy requests you to grant him a moment's conversation, Mr. Doricourt, though you should persist to send him miserable to the grave.-Let me conduct you to his chamber. Dor. Oh, ay, any where; to the antipodesto the moon.-Carry me.-Do with me what you will. Mrs. R. I'll follow, and let you know what passes. [Exeunt VIL. DOR. MRS. R. and MISS O. Flut. Ladies, ladies, have the charity to take me with you, that I may make no blunder in repeating the story. [Exit. Lady F. Sir George, you don't know Mr. Sa[Exit. Sir G. Ten thousand pardons; I have been with the utmost impatience at your door twice today. ville. Sav. I am concerned you had so much trouble, Sir George. Sir G. Trouble! what a word!--I hardly know how to address you; your having preserved Lady Frances in so imminent a danger,-start not, Saville; to protect Lady Frances was my right. You have wrested from me my dearest privilege. Sav. I hardly know how to answer such a reproach. Sir G. I do not mean to reproach you. I hardly know what I mean. There is one method by which you may restore peace to me. I have a sister, Saville, who is amiable; and you are worthy of her. You must go with us into Hampshire; and, if you see each other with the eyes I do, our felicity will be complete. Sav. I will attend you to Hampshire with pleasure; but not on the plan of retirement. Society has claims on Lady Frances that forbid it. Sir G. Claims, Saville? Sir G. Never heed circumstances—the result -the result Mrs. R. No, no; you shall have it in form. Mr. Hardy performed the sick man like an angel. He sat up in bed, and talked so pathetically, that the tears stood in Doricourt's eyes. Flut. Ay, stood; they did not drop, but stood I shall in future be very exact: the parson seized the moment; you know they never miss an opportunity. Mrs. R. "Make haste," said Doricourt; "if I have time to reflect, poor Hardy will die unhappy." Flut. They were got as far as the day of judgment, when we slipped out of the room. reached amazement, which every body knows is Sir G. Then, by this time, they must have the end of matrimony. Mrs. R. Ay, the reverend fathers ended the service with that word, prophetically, to teach the bride what a capricious monster a husband is. Sir G. I rather think it was sarcastically, to Prepare the bridegroom for the unreasonable humours and vagaries of his helpmate. Lady F. Here comes the bridegroom of to-night. Re-enter DORICOURT and VILLERS: VILLERS whispers SAVILLE, who goes out. Omnes. Joy! joy! joy! Miss O. If he's a sample of bridegrooms, keep me single! A younger brother, from the funeral of his father, could not carry a more fretful coun tenance. Flut. Oh! now he's melancholy mad, I suppose. of the occasion. Lady F. You do not consider the importance Vil. No; nor how shocking a thing it is for a heart is devoted to another. man to be forced to marry one woman, whilst his Mr. Doricourt, I think it was a most ridiculous Mrs. R. Well, now 'tis over, I confess to you, piece of Quixotism, to give up the happiness of a whole life to a man who perhaps has but few moments to be sensible of the sacrifice. Mr. Doricourt has travelled; he knows best. Flut. So it appeared to me. But, thought I, Dor. Zounds! confusion! did ye not all set upon me? Didn't ye talk to me of honour, compassion, justice? Sir G. Very true: you have acted according the married state will reward you. to their dictates, and I hope the utmost felicity of but I will endeavour to be content. Dor. Never, Sir George! To felicity I bid adieu; Where is Sav. Yes, claims; Lady Frances was born to be the ornament of courts. She is sufficiently alarmed not to wander beyond the reach of her protector; and, from the British court, the most tenderly anxious husband could not wish to ba-my-I must speak it—where is my wife? nish his wife. Bid her keep in her eye the bright example who presides there; the splendour of whose rank yields to the superior lustre of her virtue. Re-enter MRS. RACKETT, LADY FRANCES, MISS Mrs. R. Oh, Heavens! do you know- court Mrs. R. I protest you sha'n't-said Mr. Hardy Flut. No, 'twas Doricourt spoke first-says he -No, 'twas the parson-says he Mrs. R. Stop his mouth, Sir George ;-he'll spoil the tale. Enter LETITIA, masked, led by SAVILLE. be introduced to you. Sav. Mr. Doricourt, this lady was pressing to Dor. Oh! [Starting. Let. I told you last night you should see me at a time when you least expected me, and I have kept my promise. Vil. Whoever you are, Madam, you could not have arrived at a happier moment. Mr. Doricourt is just married. Let. Married! impossible! 'tis but a few hours since he swore to me eternal love: I believed him, gave him up my virgin heart, and now!— Ungrateful sex! Dor. Your virgin heart! No, lady; my fate, thank Heaven! yet wants that torture. Nothing but the conviction that you was another's could have made me think one moment of marriage, to have saved the lives of half mankind. But this visit, Madam, is as barbarous as unexpected. It is now my duty to forget you, which, spite of your situation, I found difficult enough. Let. My situation! what situation? Dor. I must apologize for explaining it in this company; but, Madam, I am not ignorant that you are the companion of Lord George Jennett, and this is the only circumstance that can give me peace. Let. I-a companion! ridiculous pretence! no, Sir, know, to your confusion, that my heart, my honour, my name, is unspotted as hers you have married; my birth equal to your own, my fortune large. That, and my person, might have been yours. But, Sir, farewell. [Going. Dor. Oh, stay a moment.-Rascal! is she not Flut. Who, she? O Lord! 'twas quite a different person that I meant. I never saw that lady before. Dor. Then, never shalt thou see her more. [Shakes FLUTTER. Mrs. R. Have mercy upon the poor man! Heavens! He'll murder him. Dor. Murder him! Yes, you, yourself, and all mankind. Sir George Saville-Villers'twas you who pushed me on this precipice; 'tis you who have snatched me from joy, felicity, and life. Mrs. R. There! now, how well he acts the madman! This is something like! I knew he would do it well enough, when the time came. Dor. Hard-hearted woman! Enjoy my ruinriot in my wretchedness. Enter HARDY, hastily, in his night-cap and gown. Har. This is too much. You are now the husband of my daughter; and how dare you show all this passion about another woman? Dor. Alive again! Har. Alive! ay, and merry. Here, wipe off the flour from my face. I was never in better health and spirits in my life. I foresaw 'twould do. Why, my illness was only a fetch, man, to make you marry Letty. Dor. It was! base and ungenerous! Well, Sir, you shall be gratified. The possession of my heart was no object either with you or your daughter. My fortune and name was all you desired, and these-I leave ye. My native England I shall quit, nor ever behold you more. But, lady, that, in my exile, I may have one consolation, grant me the favour you denied last night; let me behold all that mask conceals, that your whole image may be impressed on my heart, and cheer my distant solitary hours. Let. This is the most awful moment of my life. Oh, Doricourt, the slight action of taking Dor. Rapture! transport! heaven! Flut. Now for a touch of the happy madman. Let. This little stratagem arose from my disappointment in not having made the impression on you I wished. The timidity of the English character threw a veil over me you could not penetrate. You have forced me to emerge, in some measure, from my natural reserve, and to throw off the veil that hid me. Dor. I am yet in a state of intoxication. I cannot answer you.-Speak on, sweet angel! Let. You see I can be any thing; choose then my character-your taste shall fix it. Shall I be an English wife? or, breaking from the bonds of nature and education, step forth to the world in all the captivating glare of foreign manners? Dor. You shall be nothing but yourself-nothing can be captivating that you are not. I will not wrong your penetration, by pretending that you won my heart at the first interview; but you have now my whole soul;-your person, your face, your mind, I would not exchange for those of any other woman breathing. Har. A dog! how well he makes up for past slights! Cousin Rackett, I wish you a good husband, with all my heart. Mr. Flutter, I'll believe every word you say this fortnight. Mr. Villers, you and I have managed this to a T. I never was so merry in all my life. 'Gad, I believe I can dance. [Footing. Dor. Charming, charming creature! Let. Congratulate me, my dear friends! Can you conceive my happiness? Har. No, congratulate me; for mine is the greatest. Flut. No, congratulate me, that I have escaped with life, and give me some sticking plaster; this wild cat has torn the skin from my throat. Har. Come into the next room; I have ordered out every drop of my forty-eight, and I'll invite the whole parish of St. George's, but we'll drink it out-except one dozen, which I shall keep un der three double locks, for a certain christening that I foresee will happen within this twelve month. Dor. My charming bride! It was a strange perversion of taste, that led me to consider the delicate timidity of your deportment as the mark of an uninformed mind, or inelegant manners. I feel now it is to that innate modesty, English hus bands owe a felicity the married men of other countries are strangers to; it is a sacred veil to vour own charms; it is the surest bulwark to your husbands' honour; and cursed be the hour, should it ever arrive, in which British ladies shall sacrifice to foreign graces the grace of modesty. [Exeunt. THE CRITIC: OR, A TRAGEDY REHEARSE D. A DRAMATIC PIECE, IN THREE ACTS. BY R. B. SHERIDAN, Esq. REMARKS. THIS production, from the pen of the Rt. Hon. R. B. Sheridan, is one of those dramatical pieces which hold a high rank in the estimation of the public, and is perhaps the best effort of ridicule that has hitherto appeared against those who have imagined they possessed talents for theatrical composition. The character of Sir Fre ful Plagiary is highly drawn, and his foibles and peculiarities are painted to the life. The various turns in his speeches are exceedingly natural for a person in his situation; and Dangle, with Sneer at his elbow, contrives to keep him in continual perturbation. The Puffs, too, of this scheming age, who were never more numerou or importunate, are justly lashed in the ridicule bestowed by our witty author. The vein of original humour which pervades the whole piece, notwithstanding its acrimonious animadver sions, cannot fail to raise a pleasant laugh; but the political and other allusions require alteration to adapt it for representation at different periods of time. ACT I. MR. and MRS. DANGLE at breakfast, reading Newspapers. Pshaw!--Nothing but about the fleet and the nation and I hate all politics but theatrical politics. Where's the Morning Chronicle? Mrs. D. Yes, that's your Gazette. Dang. So, here we have it; "Theatrical intelliDang. [Reading] "Brutus to Lord North." gence extraordinary.-We hear there is a new --"Letter the second on the state of the army."tragedy in rehearsal at Drury-lane Theatre, call-Pshaw! "To the first L-dash D of the A-ed the Spanish Armada, said to be written by Mr. dash Y."-"Genuine extract of a letter from St. Puff, a gentleman well known in the theatrical Kitt's."-" Coxheath intelligence."-"It is now world. If we may allow ourselves to give credit confidently asserted that Sir Charles Hardy," to the report of the performers, who, truth to say, Dang. Mrs. Dangle and I have been diverting ourselves with the papers.-Pray, Sneer, wont you go to Drury-lane Theatre the first night of Puff's tragedy? Sneer. Yes; but I suppose one sha'n't be able to get in. But here, Dangle, I have brought you two pieces, one of which you must exert yourself to make some of the managers accept, I can tell you that, for 'tis written by a person of conse quence. Dang. So now my plagues are beginning. Sneer. Ay, I am glad of it, for now you'll be happy. Why, my dear Dangle, it is a pleasure to see how you enjoy your volunteer fatigue, and your solicited solicitations. Dang. It's a great trouble-yet, 'egad, it's pleasant too. Why, sometimes of a morning, I have a dozen people call on me at breakfast time, whose faces I never saw before, nor ever desire to Mrs. D. I have no patience with you!-haven't you made yourself the jest of all your acquaintance by your interference in matters where you have no business? Are not you called a theatrical Quid-see again. nunc, and a mock Mecænas to second-hand authors? Dang. True; my power with the managers is pretty notorious; but is it no credit to have applications from all quarters for my interest ?-From lords to recommend fiddlers, from ladies to get boxes, from authors to get answers, and from actors to get engagements. Mrs. D. Yes, truly; you have contrived to get a share in all the plague and trouble of theatrical property, without the profit, or even the credit of the abuse that attends it. Dang. I am sure, Mrs. Dangle, you are no loser by it, however; you have all the advantages of it-mightn't you, last winter, have had the reading of the new pantomime a fortnight previous to its performance? And didn't my friend, Mr. Smatter, dedicate his last farce to you, at my particular request, Mrs. Dangle? Mrs. D. Yes; but wasn't the farce damned, Mr. Dangle? And to be sure it is extremely pleasant to have one's house made the motley rendezvous of all the lackeys of literature:-The very high change of trading authors and jobbing critics! Dang. Mrs. Dangle, you will not easily persuade me that there is no credit or importance in being at the head of a band of critics, who take upon them to decide for the whole town, whose opinion and patronage all writers solicit, and whose recommendation no manager dares refuse! Mrs. D. Ridiculous!-Both managers and authors of the least merit, laugh at your pretensions. -The public is their critic-without whose fair approbation they know no play can rest on the stage, and with whose applause they welcome such attacks as yours, and laugh at the malice of them, where they can't at the wit. Dang. Very well, Madam-very well. Serv. Mr. Sneer, Sir, to wait on you. Dang. You are enough to provoke- -Ha! my dear Sneer, I am vastly glad to see you. my dear-my dear, Mr. Sneer. Mrs. D. Good morning to you, Sir. Sneer. That must be very pleasant indeed! Dang. And not a week but I receive fifty letters, and not a line in them about any business of my own. Sneer. An amusing correspondence! Dang. [Reading] "Bursts into tears, and exit." What, is this a tragedy. Sneer. No, that's a genteel comedy, not a translation-only taken from the French; it is written in a style which they have lately tried to run down; the true sentimental, and nothing ridiculous in it from the beginning to the end. Mrs. D. Well, if they had kept to that, 1 should not have been such an enemy to the stage: there was some edification to be got from those pieces, Mr. Sneer! Sncer. I am quite of your opinion, Mrs. Dangle; the theatre, in proper hands, might certainly be made the school of morality; but now, I am. sorry to say it, people seem to go there principally for their entertainment. Mrs. D. It would have been more to the credit of the managers to have kept it in the other line. Sneer. Undoubtedly, Madam; and hereafter perhaps to have had it recorded, that in the midst of a luxurious and dissipated age, they preserved two houses in the capital, where the conversation was always moral at least, if not entertaining! Dang. But what have we here?—This seems a very odd Sneer. O that's a comedy, on a very new plan; replete with wit and mirth, yet of a most serious moral! You see it is called "The Reformed Housebreaker;" where, by the mere force of humour, housebreaking is put into so ridiculous a light, that if the piece has its proper run, I have no doubt but that bolts and bars will be entirely useless by the end of the season. Dang. 'Egad, this is new indeed! Sneer. Yes; it is written by a particular friend of mine, who has discovered that the follies and foibles of society are subjects unworthy the notice of the comic muse, who should be taught to stoop only at the greater vices and blacker crimes of humanity-gibbetting capital offences in five acts, and pillorying petty larcenies in two. In short, his idea is to dramatise the penal laws, and make the stage a court of ease to the Old Bailey. Dang. It is truly moral. Enter SERVANT. Serv. Sir Fretful Plagiary, Sir. |