REMARKS.

THE author of this comedy, as the author of the comedy of The West Indian" and "The Jew," gives high importance to the work; and yet his very reputation as a dramatist may here prove the means of disappointment to many of his readers; for, in "First Love," though possessing much merit, there is scarce a page which denotes dramatic talents, such as Mr. Cumberland has evinced in the beforenamed productions.

It would be unjust to send forth this play from the stage to the closet, without intimating to the reader; who may, possibly, be unacquainted with all the numerous dramas by the same writer, that this he is going to peruse is inferior to every one of them. Still it was successful on its appearance, is now occasionally acted, and receives that degree of encomium which must ever attach even to the most hasty or negligent composition of a man of genius.

That the interest excited by "First Love" is not deep, nor the events forcible; that no peculiar passion is awakened, no comic effect produced by any incident or character, may, in part, be attributed to the locality of the subject-the sorrows of a French

emigrant-which seems to have stimulated the author to write, without affording him the means to write with his accustomed skill. What could fiction add, what could imagination invent, what could poetic description supply, to heighten the real sufferings of, or increase the general compassion for, those outcasts of their country?]

The very materials which gave to this drama the semblance of real life have cast an insipidity upon the whole substance. The author, placing his dependence upon a fact, has spared his powers of invention their usual labour; and, lulled into security by the charms of a popular topic, has slumbered throughout his employment, nearly to the sleep of death.

But whilst there is no part of this comedy which claims high praise, still less is there any one scene deserving of censure. They will each produce, both for readers and auditors, a degree of entertainment worthy of their leisure; though by no means equal to that delight which the same author has been in the constant habit of dispensing.

Some excellent instruction to the married will be ound in the connubial conduct of Mr. and Mrs. Wrangle; particularly at the conclusion of the fourth act and moral lessons, to which the author in all his various writings most virtuously adheres, will be read in every page, and plainly seen to pervade almost every occurrence and every character.

Lord Sensitive is, perhaps, the only exception to the success of moral effort in this play; for, with all his lordship's pretended susceptibility, he is even too unfeeling for an example. Men of his class in iniquity have hearts too hard for warnings to impress: their cruelties are the effect of deliberation, and their amendment (like his) but the result of whim. No incident, perhaps, in the whole piece, is more whimsical than the sudden reformation of this vile lord. Poetic justice has at least been dealt to him; for his repentance is as ludicrous as his transgression was

enormous.

May this atrocious character never be brought forward to invalidate the following most excellent description of Mr. Cumberland, as a writer, by the poet Goldsmith:

"A flattering painter, who made it his care,

To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are. His gallants are all faultless.

Say, where has our poet this malady caught?
Or wherefore his characters, thus without fault?
Say, was it, that vainly directing his view,
To find out men's virtues, and finding them few,
Quite sick of pursuing each troublesome elf,
He grew lazy at last, and drew from himself?

FIRST LOVE.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE 1.

The Street.

Enter FREDERICK MOWBRAY, followed by DAVID.

David. Well! I could almost swear-yet I won't be sure. I wish he would look back once again. -Yes it is, by St. George, it is my dear brother Frederick.-Ah! my sweet fellow, welcome to England! Don't you remember little David?

Fred. David! may I believe my eyes? 'Tis he, sure enough. Come to my arms, my brave lad! Why you are altered out of knowledge! and in the navy uniform-that's right, my boy, there you're in your proper line.

David. Ay, ay, Sir!-But we'll talk of that by-and-by. How are you, in the first place? How fares it with you, my hearty? where are you come from? what sort of a cruize have you had in t'other country? have you fallen in with father?

Fred. No, nor do I wish him to know of my arrival as yet.

David. Be it so, be it so! Mum's the word for that. Are you come home full or empty? Egad, you'll find father cling plaguily by the claws, damn'd