master in particular; and bind his hands over to their good behaviour!

Sir Anth. Put up, Jack, put up, or I shall be in a frenzy-how came you in a duel, sir?

Abs. Faith, sir, that gentleman can tell you better than I; 'twas he called on me, and you know, sir, I serve his majesty.

Sir Anth. Here's a pretty fellow; I catch him going to cut a man's throat, and he tells me he serves his majesty!-Zounds! sirrah, then how durst you draw the king's sword against one of his subjects?

Abs. Sir! I tell you, that gentleman called me out, without explaining his reasons.

Sir Anth. Gad! sir, how came you to call my son out, without explaining your reasons!

Sir Luc. Your son, sir, insulted me in a manner which my honour could not brook.

Sir Anth. Zounds! Jack, how durst you insult the gentleman in a manner which his honour could not brook?

Mrs. Mal. Come, come, let's have no honour before ladiesCaptain Absolute, come here-How could you intimidate us so?— Here's Lydia has been terrified to death for you.

Abs. For fear I should be killed, or escape, ma'am?

Mrs. Mal. Nay, no delusions to the past-Lydia is convinced; speak, child.

Sir Luc. With your leave, ma'am, I must put in a word here: I believe I could interpret the young lady's silence. Now

mark

Lyd. What is it you mean, sir?

Sir Luc. Come, come, Delia, we must be serious now-this is no time for trifling.

Lyd. 'Tis true, sir; and your reproof bids me offer this gentleman my hand, and solicit the return of his affections.

Abs. O my little angel, say you so?-Sir Lucius, I perceive there must be some mistake here, with regard to the affront which you affirm I have given you. I can only say that it could not have been intentional. And as you must be convinced, that I should not fear to support a real injury-you shall now see that I am not ashamed to atone for an inadvertency-I ask your pardon. But for this lady, while honoured with her approbation, I will support my claim against any man whatever.

Sir Anth. Well said, Jack, and I'll stand by you, my boy.

Acres. Mind, I give up all my claim-I make no pretensions to any thing in the world; and if I can't get a wife without fighting for her, by my valour! I'll live a bachelor.

Sir Luc. Captain, give me your hand: an affront handsomely acknowledged becomes an obligation; and as for the lady, if she chooses to deny her own handwriting, here- [Takes out letters.

Mrs. Mal. Ó, he will dissolve my mystery!-Sir Lucius, perhaps there's some mistake-perhaps. I can illuminate

Sir Luc. Pray, old gentlewoman, don't interfere where you have no business. Miss Languish, are you my Delia or not?

Lyd. Indeed, Sir Lucius, I am not.

[Walks aside with CAPTAIN Absolute. Mrs. Mal. Sir Lucius O'Trigger-ungrateful as you are-I own the soft impeachment-pardon my blushes, I am Delia. Sir Luc. You Delia-pho! pho! be easy.

2

Mrs. Mal. Why, thou bárbarous vandyke those letters are mine. When you are more sensible of my benignity—perhaps I may be brought to encourage your addresses.

Sir Luc. Mrs. Malaprop, I am extremely sensible of your condescension; and whether you or Lucy have put this trick on me, I am equally beholden to you.-And, to show you I am not ungrateful, Captain Absolute, since you have taken that lady from me, I'll give you my Delia into the bargain.

Abs. I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius; but here's my friend, Fighting Bob, unprovided for.

Sir Luc. Hah! little Valour-here, will you make your fortune? Acres. Odds wrinkles! No.-But give me your hand, Sir Lucius, forget and forgive; but if ever I give you a chance of pickling me again, say Bob Acres is a dunce, that's all.

Sir Anth. Come, Mrs. Malaprop, don't be cast down-you are in your bloom y、t.

Mrs. Mal. O Sir Anthony-men are all barbarians.

[All retire but JULIA and FAULKLAND. Ful. [Aside.] He seams dejected and unhappy-not sullen; there was some foundation, however, for the tale he told me-O woman! how true should be your judgment, when your resolution is so weak!

Faulk. Julia!-how can I sue for what I so little deserve? I dare not presume-yet Hope is the child of Penitence.

Jul. Oh! Faulkland, you have not been more faulty in your unkind treatment of me, than I am now in wanting inclination to resent it. As my heart honestly bids me place my weakness to the account of love, I should be ungenerous not to admit the same plea for yours.

Faulk. Now I shall be blest indeed.

Sir Anth. [Coming forward]. What's going on here? So you have been quarrelling too, I warrant ? Come, Julia, I never interfered before; but let me have a hand in the matter at last.-All the faults I have ever seen in my friend Faulkland seemed to proceed from what he calls the delicacy and warmth of his affection for you. There, marry him directly, Julia; you'll find he'll mend surprisingly! [The rest come forward.

Sir Luc. Come, now, I hope there is no dissatisfied person, but what is content; for as I have been disappointed myself, it will be very hard if I have not the satisfaction of seeing other people succeed better.

Acres. You are right, Sir Lucius. So Jack, I wish you joy.

Mr. Faulkland the same.--Ladies,-come now, to show you I'm neither vexed nor angry, odds tabors and pipes! I'll order the fiddles in half an hour to the New Rooms-and I insist on your all meeting me there.

Sir Anth. 'Gad! sir, I like your spirit; and at night we single lads will drink a health to the young couples, and a husband to Mrs. Malaprop.

Faulk. Our partners are stolen from us, Jack-I hope to be congratulated by each other-yours for having checked in time the errors of an ill-directed imagination, which might have betrayed an innocent heart; and mine, for having, by her gentleness and candour, reformed the unhappy temper of one, who by it made wretched whom he loved most, and tortured the heart he ought to have adored.

Abs. Well, Jack, we have both tasted the bitters, as well as the sweets of love; with this difference only, that you always prepared the bitter cup for yourself, while I

Lyd. Was always obliged to me for it, hey! Mr. Modesty? -But come, no more of that—our happiness is now as unalloyed as general.

Jul. Then let us study to preserve it so: and while Hope pictures to us a flattering scene of future bliss, let us deny its pencil those colours which are too bright to be lasting.-When hearts deserving happiness would unite their fortunes, Virtue would crown them with an unfading garland of modest hurtless flowers; but illjudging Passion will force the gaudier rose into the wreath, whose thorn offends them when its leaves are dropped! [Exeunt omnes.

EPILOGUE.

BY THE AUTHOR.

SPOKEN BY MRS. BULKLEY,

LADIES, for you-I heard our poet say-
He'd try to coax some moral from his play:
"One moral's plain," cried I, "without more fuss;
Man's social happiness all rests on us :

Through all the drama-whether damn'd or not-
Love gilds the scene, and women guide the plot.
From every rank obedience is our due-

D'ye doubt?-The world's great stage shall prove it true."
The cit, well skill'd to shun domestic strife,
Will sup abroad; but first he'll ask his wife :
John Trot, his friend, for once will do the same,
But then-he'll just step home to tell his dame.
The surly squire at noon resolves to rule,
And half the day-Zounds! madam is a fool!

Convinced at night, the vanquish'd victor says,
Ah, Kate! you women have such coaxing ways.
The jolly toper chides each tardy blade,
Till reeling Bacchus calls on Love for aid:
Then with each toast he sees fair bumpers swirn,
And kisses Chloe on the sparkling brim!

Nay, I have heard that statesmen-great and wise—
Will sometimes counsel with a lady's eyes!
The servile suitors watch her various face,
She smiles preferment, or she frowns disgrace,
Curtsies a pension here-there nods a place.
Nor with less awe, in scenes of humbler life,
Is view'd the mistress, or is heard the wife.
The poorest peasant of the poorest soil,
The child of poverty, and heir to toil,
Early from radiant Love's impartial light

Steals one small spark to cheer this world of night:
Dear spark! that oft through winter's chilling woes
Is all the warmth his little cottage knows!

The wandering tar, who not for years has press'd,
The widow'd partner of his day of rest,
On the cold deck, far from her arms removed,
Still hums the ditty which his Susan loved;
And while around the cadence rude is blown,
The boatswain whistles in a softer tone.

The soldier, fairly proud of wounds and toil,
Pants for the triumph of his Nancy's smile!
But ere the battle should he list her cries,
The lover trembles-and the hero dies!
That heart, by war and honour steel'd to fear,
Droops on a sigh, and sickens at a tear!

But ye more cautious, ye nice-judging few,
Who give to beauty only beauty's due,
Though friends to love-ye view with deep regret
Our conquests marr'd, our triumphs incomplete,
Till polish'd wit more lasting charms disclose,
And judgment fix the darts which beauty throws!
In female breasts did sense and merit rule,
The lover's mind would ask no other school;
Shamed into sense, the scholars of our eyes,
Our beaux from gallantry would soon be wise;
Would gladly light, their homage to improve,
The lamp of knowledge at the torch of love!

THE CRITIC;

OR, A TRAGEDY REHEARSED.

A DRAMATIC PIECE IN THREE ACTS.

TO MRS. GREVILLE.

MADAM,-In requesting your permission to address the following pages to you, which, as they aim themselves to be be critical, require every protection and allowance that approving taste or friendly prejudice can give them, I yet ventured to mention no other motive than the gratification of private friendship and esteem. Had I suggested a hope that your implied approbation would give a sanction to their defects, your particular reserve, and dislike to the reputation of critical taste, as well as of poetical talent, would have made you refuse the protection of your name to such a purpose. However, I am not so ungrateful as now to attempt to combat this disposition in you. I shall not here presume to argue that the present state of poetry claims and expects every assistance that taste and example can afford it; nor endeavour to prove that a fastidious concealment of the most elegant productions of judgment and fancy is an ill return for the possession of those endowments. Continue to deceive yourself in the idea that you are known only to be eminently admired and regarded for the valuable qualities that attach private friendships, and the graceful talents that adorn conversation. Enough of what you have written has stolen into full public notice to answer my purpose; and you will, perhaps, be the only person, conversant in elegant literature, who shall read this address and not perceive that by publishing your particular approbation of the following drama, I have a more interested object than to boast the true respect and regard with which I have the honour to be, Madam, your very sincere and obedient humble servant, R. B. SHERIDAN.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT DRURY LANE THEATRE IN 1779.

SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY Mr. Parsons. MR. HOPKINS.

Mr. King.

Mr. Dodd.

Mr. Palmer.

}Mr. Delpini.

Mr. Baddeley.
Mr. Philli-

more.

MRS. DANGLE.

SIGNORE PASTICCIO

RITORNELLO

Mr. Hopkins

Mrs. Hopkins.
Miss Field

and the Miss. Abrams.

Scenemen, Musicians, and
Servants.