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MISCELLANIES IN PROSE and VERSE.

CONTAINING CANDID AND IMPARTIAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE PRINCIPAL PERFORMERS BELONGING TO THE TWO THEATRES-ROYAL; From January 1773, to May 1775.

LIKEWISE STRICTURES On two favourite TRAGEDIES, viz.

The ORPHAN and the FAIR PENITENT.

Being Part of an epiſtolary Correſpondence on thoſe Subjects with a young Lady.

WITH Many other agreeable and intereſting ARTICLES, ſuch as PASTORAL SONGS, EPITAPHS, &c. &c.

By WILLIAM HAWKINS, Gent.

Aetatis coujouſque notandi ſunt tibi mores. HOR.
A young Advent'rer with a little Art,
Here boldly ventures on the Critic's part,
"And praiſes as he cenſures, from the Heart."

LONDON: Printed for the AUTHOR, and ſold by T. BELL, No. 26, BELL-YARD, TEMPLE-BAR, 1775.

(Price bound, Two Shillings and Sixpence.)

Epiſtle Dedicatory.
To a certain Young Lady.

[3]
Dear Madam,

TO whom can I addreſs theſe few Sheets, with ſo much Pleaſure and Satisfaction, as to your beauteous Self, who has at once taken the ſole Poſſeſſion of my Heart; and whoſe Charms and amiable Qualities, have ſo often filled my Soul with Love and Adoration. Therefore, dear Charmer, deign to accept of this Trifle, (which was wrote with the greateſt Pleaſure and Delight, ſolely at your Requeſt, [iv] and for your kind Peruſal;) nor think me prone to Flattery. I could wiſh it was more worthy your Attention; but am convinced, if not from its intrinſic Merit, at leaſt for its Author's Sake, you will condeſcend to look upon it with ſome little Candour and Reſpect. With theſe flattering Hopes, I take Leave to ſubſcribe myſelf,

Your truly affectionate, And devoted humble Servant, WILLIAM HAWKINS.

PREFACE.

[v]
The piece you think is incorrect, why take it.
I'm all ſubmiſſion, what you'd have it, make it.
POPE.

THE following pages are the firſt efforts of a youthful mind, and was wrote purely for the Author's amuſement, and now firſt collected and reviſed, (with ſuch alterations, additions, and improvements, as he thought [vi] neceſſary to make,) at the particular requeſt of the young Lady, to whom the book is addreſſed; though he thinks it but juſtice to inform the readers, that many of the articles contained in this work, he has at different times inſerted in Magazines and other periodical publications; particularly what he then called, Remarks on the Principal Performers; but as they were too precipitately written, he has wrote the following Obſervations on a more judicious and extenſive plan, by ſelecting what uſeful matter he thought neceſſary from the former, and having interſperſed it with what he has now written, by which, [vii] he flatters himſelf, this undertaking, (trifling as he is ſenſible it muſt appear) wlll be thought far ſuperior to the former; as he has given an account of all the Principal Performers that have appeared at either of the Theatres from the time he formerly ſet out to the preſent Period. He has likewiſe added a CONCLUSION, wherein the Merits and Demerits of moſt of the inferior Performers are ſet forth. Therefore, after ſaying thus much, he has nothing more to plead to his courteous Readers, (nor to judge Criticiſm, and his critical Court of Inqueſt) than by declaring his ſole Motive for giving Birth to this Production, [viii] was entirely to oblige the aforeſaid young Lady; with that View he humbly ſubmits it to Peruſal of the indulgent Public; at the ſame time hoping, the ſew auxiliary Forces he has been obliged to call in from other Authors, will be deemed Venial, and with humble Dependence on Candour and generous Criticiſm, he launches his little Pinnance, trembling from the Shore.

SUBSCRIBERS NAMES.

[ix]
  • THomas Alder, Eſq.
  • Thomas Atkins, Eſq 2 copies
  • Mr. John Anſell
  • Mr. William Allen
  • Mr. John Anderſon, 2 copies
  • Mr. Samuel Allwood
  • Mr. Robert Anſon
  • Miſs Nancy Auſtin
  • Miſs Polly Auſtin
B
  • George Alexander Baxley, Eſq.
  • Captain John Baldock
  • Lady—Baldock
  • Mr. Robert Brooks
  • Mr. John Branſby
  • Mr. John Biggs
  • [x] Mr. Richard Booth
  • Mrs. Sarah Booth
  • Mr. John Butler
  • Mr. William Bland
  • Mr. Thomas Brown
  • Mr. John Brookſby
  • Mrs.—Bently
  • Miſs Lydia Bentley
  • Mr. James Bendry
C
  • Mr.—Cadogan
  • Mr. William Clarke
  • Mr. Daniel Curtis
  • Mr. William Cleaves
  • Mr. John Caley, ſen.
  • Mr. John Caley, jun.
  • Mr. Thomas Carter
  • Mr. Alexander Chapman
  • Thomas Cooper, Eſq. 2 copies
  • Mrs.—Clarendon.
  • Miſs Julia Clarendon.
D
  • John Dring, Eſq. 2 copies
  • Mr. Francis Dent
  • [xi] Mr. William Dyer
  • Mr. Francis Draper
  • Mr. James Dodd
  • Mr. John Drinkwater
  • Mr. Samuel Driver
  • Mr. Jonathan Darby
  • Miſs Betſey Drury
E
  • Chriſtopher Everland, Eſq.
  • Mr. Henry Eagleton, 2 copies
  • Mr. Edward Eagleton, 2 copies
  • Mr. Thomas Eaſon
  • Mr. John Eteridge
  • Mr. Charles Emmerton
F
  • Cornelius Furgurſon, Eſq 2 copies
  • Mr. Freeman, miniature painter, 4 copies
  • Mr. Robert Foreman
  • William Frampton, Eſq.
  • Mr. Thomas Franklin
  • Mr. John Fenton
G
  • Mr. William Gardener
  • Mr. Samuel Gardener
  • [xii] Mr. John Goodyer
  • Mr. Edward Goodwin
  • Mrs. Greville, 2 copies
  • Lady Elizabeth Gordon
  • Mr. John Green
  • Mr. Jeremiah Goodin
  • Mr. John Goodall
  • Mr. Edward Godfrey
H
  • Miſs Polly Hone
  • Miſs Polly Havard
  • Mr. Robert Howard, 2 copies
  • Mr. William Henſon
  • Miſs Harriot Holland
  • Mr. William Hopkins
  • Miſs Sally Hopkins
  • Mr. John Herbert
  • The Rev. Mr. Holmes, A. M.
  • Mr. Edward Holmes, jun.
  • Mrs. Ann Holmes
I
  • Francis Ireland, Eſq.
  • Mr. William Inman
  • Mr. William Jeſſup
  • [xiii] Mr. William Jupp
  • Mrs.—Johnſon
  • Mr. John Johnſton
  • Mrs. Mary Johnſton
K
  • John Kendall, Eſq.
  • Charles Knell, Eſq.
  • Miſs Nelly Knell
  • Mr. John Knox
  • Miſs Sally Knox
  • Miſs Polly King
L
  • The Rev. Mr. Liptrott, A. M.
  • Mr. George Lawſon, 2 copies
  • Mr. Robert Lewis
  • Mr. William Lance
  • Mr. John Lucas
  • Mr. Thomas Lingle
  • Mr. William Lane.
M
  • John May, Eſq.
  • John Miller, Eſq.
  • Mr. Leonard Miller
  • [xiv] Mr. John Matthews
  • Mr. Philip Martin
  • Miſs Sukey Mills
  • Mr. Samuel Marſhall
  • John Maſſey, Eſq.
  • Mr. William Maſon
  • Mr. Richard Morris
  • Mr.—Merchant
  • Mr. Michael Mitchell
N
  • Miſs Betſy Norman
  • Mr. William Newman
  • Mr. John Newnham
  • Mr. Philip Norton
  • Mr. John Naſh
P
  • George Henry Parker, Eſq 4 copies
  • Mr. Perfect, ſurgeon, 2 copies
  • Mr. George Perrin
  • Mr. William Pring
  • Mr. James Pack
  • Mr. John Parker
  • Mr. Samuel Price
  • [xv] Mr. John Pancraſs
  • Mr. William Plivey
  • Miſs Betſy Purcival
R
  • Henry Ri [...]out Eſq.
  • Mr. Rowley, ſurgeon, 3 copies
  • Mr. Samuel Rowley
  • Mr. Peter Ramſden
  • Mr. George Ringley
  • Mr. James Rydall
  • Mr. Stephen Routh
  • Mr. Edward Rutſon
S
  • Marmaduke Smyth, Eſq.
  • William Smith, Eſq 2 copies
  • Mr. Folley Streeter
  • Miſs Henrietta Spencer
  • Miſs Betſy Sutton
  • Mr. John Stead
  • Mr. William Stanton
  • Mr.—Senott
  • Mr. William Sanderſon
  • The Rev. Mr. Scott, A. M.
  • [xvi] Mr. Thomas Stephens
  • Mr. Whitaker Saunders
  • Mr. Brigg Shrimpton
  • Mr. Daniel Shrimpton
  • Mr. John Stanley
T
  • Mr.—Turner
  • Mr. William Thorpe
  • Mr. Armigill Terry
  • Mrs. Mary Terry
  • Mr. John Twiner
  • Mr.—Thormton
  • Miſs Sally Thompſon
W
  • Mr.—Waldron
  • Anthony Whiting Eſq 2 copies
  • Mr. John W [...]ll
  • Mr. Timothy Woodman
  • Mr. Theodore Wild
  • Mr. Henry Woodward
  • Mr. Edward Wickham
  • Mr. Stephen Worrel
  • Mr. John Wright
  • Mr. Daniel Wentworth
  • [xvii] Mr. John Walkey
  • Mr. Richard Wood
  • Mr. John Wyatt
  • Mr. James Wells
  • Mr. Samuel Wigmore
Y
  • Edward Younge, Eſq.
  • Thomas Younge, Eſq.
  • Mr. John Younger
  • Mrs.—Yalloway
  • Mr. William Yorham
  • Mr. Chriſtopher York
  • Miſs Lydia York

THE CONTENTS.

[xviii]
A
  • AICKIN, Mr. Remarks on page 9
  • Abington, Mrs. ditto page 23
  • A Soliloquy on a Spring morning page 109
  • A Scotch Air page 98
  • Amorous Bliſs, or the Charms of Miſs Polly C—mb—d, of Great Ruſſelſtreet, Covent-garden page 115
  • A Sonnet, by a Friend page 97
  • A ditto page 106
  • A Song, intended to be ſung under Jeſſica's Window, by Lorenzo page 103
  • A Prologue, intended to be ſpoken on the Author's firſt appearance on the ſtage, in the Character of G. Barnwell page 129
  • [xix]An Epitaph on a late Attorney of the Middle Temple page 137
  • A Ditto on a poor Poet ibid.
  • An Epigram on the Character of Juno, in the Burletta of the Golden Pippin page 135
  • A Rebus page 138
  • The Anſwer, by a Friend page 139
  • An Acroſtic page 141
B
  • Baddeley, Mr. Remarks on page 18
  • Baddeley, Mrs. ditto page 27
  • Barry, Spranger, Eſq. ditto page 32
  • Benſley, Mr. ditto page 47
  • Barry, Mrs. ditto page 51
  • Bulkley, Mrs. ditto page 56
  • Barſanti, Miſs, ditto page 60
C
  • Cautherly, Mr. Remarks on page 19
  • Clarke, Mr. ditto page 49
  • Catley, Miſs, ditto page 61
  • Concluſion page 63
  • Corydon's complaint to Lucinda page 104
D
  • Dodd, Mr. Remarks on page 13
  • Dyer, Mr. ditto page 44
  • Damon and Laura, a Cantata page 107
  • Delia, Verſes to page 108
  • Delia, a Cantata page 114
E
  • Egerton, Mrs. Remarks on page 29
  • Elegy, written at Colcheſter page 116
G
  • Garrick, David, Eſq. Remarks on page 1
  • Green, Mrs. ditto page 57
H
  • Hartley, Mrs. Remarks on page 51
K
  • King, Mr. Remarks on page 10
L
  • Love, Mr. Remarks on page 14
  • Lee, Mr. ditto page 38
  • Lewis, Mr. ditto page 45
  • Lionel to Clariſſa page 105
M
  • Moody, Mr. Remarks on page 12
  • Macklin, Mr. ditto page 40
  • Mattocks, Mr. ditto page 48
  • Mattocks, Mrs. ditto page 53
  • Macklin, Miſs, ditto page 54
  • Miller, Miſs ditto page 52
O
  • On Spring and Shepherds bliſs page 91
  • On Mrs. Yates's firſt Appearance in the Character of Mandane, in Cyrus page 132
  • On ſeeing Mr. and Mrs. Barry in the Characters of Othello and Deſdemona page 133
  • On ſeeing a pretended witty Fellow, ſtung by a Lady for his Abuſe, while ſhe was reading a Play-Bill page 136
  • On ſeeing a young Lady that was prodigiouſly vain and affected ibid.
P
  • Parſons, Mr. Remarks on page 15
  • Palmer, Mr. ditto page 19
  • Pope, Miſs, ditto page 26
Q
  • Quick, Mr. Remarks on page 50
R
  • Reddiſh, Mr. Remarks on page 7
  • Roſs, Mr. ditto page 39
S
  • Smith, Mr. Remarks on page 5
  • Smith, Mrs. ditto page 30
  • Shuter, Mr. ditto page 43
  • Strictures on the Tragedy of the Orphan page 69
  • Ditto, on the Tragedy of the Fair Penitent page 81
  • Strephon and Phoebe, a Cantata page 110
T
  • The Forſaken Maid, a Cantata page 88
  • To Phillis page 96
  • The Linnet, a Paſtoral page 89
  • The Happy Shepherd page 101
  • The Sandman, a Cantata page 91
  • The Unkind Nymph; or the Swain's Reſolve page 99
V
  • Vernon, Mr. Remarks on page 16
  • Verſes addreſſed to a young Lady page 102
  • Verſes to another Lady page 122
  • Verſes received from a young Lady, for preſenting her with Bell's Edition of Shakeſpeare page 125
  • Verſes addreſſed to Miſs W—n, in Anſwer to the above page 126
  • Verſes addreſſed to Mrs. Greville, for the unbounded Pleaſure ſhe gave the Author on ſeeing her in the Iriſh Widow, and other Occaſions page 123
  • Verſes on the Death of Mr. Moſſop, the celebrated Tragedian page 134
W
  • Woodward, Mr. Remarks on page 41
Y
  • Yates, Mrs. Remarks on page 21
  • Younge, Miſs, ditto page 24

ERRATA.

[]
  • P. 21, l. 3, for laſt, read leaſt.
  • P. 26, l. 4, for imitation, read imitator.
  • P. 39, l. 6, for part, read port.
  • P. 43, l. 5, for ſuch, read ſuch as.
  • Ibid, l. 12, for The, read This.
  • P. 48, l. 13, for the, read that.
  • P. 51, l. 3, for ha, read has.
  • Ibid, l. 4, for Mr. Yates, read Mrs. Yates.
  • P. 64, l. 2, for annot, read cannot.
  • P. 73, l. 15, for Cordelia, read Cordelio.
  • P. 78, l. 7, for lay, read lays.
  • P. 90, l. 4, for I, read It.
  • P. 131, l. 6. for God! read Gods!
  • P. 134, l. 19, for But, read And.
  • P. 140, l. 8, for diſe, read deſpiſe.

*⁎* The Readers and Monthly Reviewers are requeſted to pardon the above Errors, and others they may occaſionally meet with in this Work, which could not be corrected, on Account of the Author's Diſtance from the Preſs.

CANDID and IMPARTIAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE PRINCIPAL PERFORMERS.

[]

DRURY-LANE.

DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.

THE firſt on the liſt of theatrical fame, ſtands the inimitable Roſcius; one of the greateſt ornaments that ever decked the Engliſh Stage; but whoſe excellencies are beſt deſcribed in the words of his favourite and immortal poet Shakeſpeare.

He is a man take him for all in all,
We ne'er ſhall look upon his like again. *

[2] So many pens of almoſt all ranks and denominations in literature, for theſe thirty years paſt, have been employed in treating of Mr. Garrick, both as an actor and a writer; that I muſt confeſs I find it a difficult taſk to collect untouched materials; as ſuch I ſhall not at this time preſume to enter into the merit, or demerit, of this firſt-rate ornament of the Britiſh Stage, for fear I ſhould become a vile encroacher, and conſequently make uſe of another man's property as my own: therefore, in order to avoid as much as poſſible this obſervation, I ſhall only give my courteous readers a deſcription of his perſon; though at the ſame time, I muſt beg leave to interſperſe a little borowed matter, in order to ſpeak of him with more preciſion than I probably might without theſe materials. But to his perſon, Mr. Garrick though low in ſtature, is regularly made, and well proportioned; his face is ſtrongly and finely featured, but on the whole not handſome; and yet, much leſs cannot be ſaid to the contrary. His eyes have [3] been ever and univerſally admired; their cut is what a painter would call bold and perfect, their ſize is big, the pupil large, ſtrong, lively, active, and variable; their colour dark, ſurrounded and ſet off with a due proportion of white, that gives to their every motion, a brilliancy, a diſtinctneſs, a life that ſpeaks in every glance. His complexion is dark; and laſtly his voice, which, from its harmony, ſweetneſs, and moreover from it's pliancy, and extenſive variety, has ever been admired. Having given a brief and juſt account of Mr. Garrick's perſon, I ſhall proceed to relate the names of ſome of the moſt celebrated characters this great actor ſhines in; without attempting to enter into his excellence in any particular, for fear I ſhould ſuffer for my preſumption, and run my account of this gentleman into a prolixity of uſeleſs and unmeaning matter; as ſuch my intention is to touch upon Mr. Garrick, (as well as the following performers in general) in as true and conciſe manner as poſſible. But I ſhall proceed to relate a few [4] of the various parts he is moſt eminent in; which in tragedy are Macbeth, Lear, Richard, Hamlet, Luſignan, Dorilas, &c. &c. In comedy, Able Drugger, Benedick, Kitely, Ranger, Archer, Don Felix, &c. &c. Were I capable of communicating to the reader, the names of all the various characters Mr. Garrick excels in, and likewiſe to point out his excellence in each particular part, it problably might ſwell to the ſize of a large volume; they are indeed ſo numerous as to leave ſufficient room for me to make this remark; that in ſhort, the moſt explicit and accurate manner I can find in ſumming up this gentleman's character as an actor, is by the following lines.

The tragic muſe, her laurel crown beſtows,
To fix it blooming on her GARRICK's brows;
The comic muſe her maſk has made his own,
And SHAKESPEARE lives, whilſt lives his Darling Son.

[5] Having ſaid thus much, on our Engliſh Roſcius, I ſhall conclude; and proceed to the next on the liſt at Drury-Lane theatre, which I believe is cordially allowed to ſtand

Mr. SMITH.

Mr. SMITH is a very pleaſing and judicious actor; and in the parts of the unaffected well-bred gentleman, he irreproachably claims the foremoſt rank on the ſtage, for uniform elegance, eaſe, and ſuitable vivacity. His perſon is likewiſe one of the genteeleſt that I know; and his whole deportment admirably polite and affable. What a pity it is, that this actor ſhould ſo often miſtake his abilities, by ſtraying out of that road which nature has ſo happily placed him in; did he retain leſs thoughts of his unfavourable muſe Melpomene, and confine himſelf more to his beſt friend Thalia, I would inſure his ſucceſs to be much greater than it is, as not one upon [6] the ſtage would have a chance to equal him in his walk: not but I muſt allow Mr. Smith to have many capital requiſites for a tragedian, but he is apt to wade out of his depth; and were it not for his agility and good ſenſe, I am perſuaded he would ſometimes be in danger of drowning: wherefore I greatly prefer in him the comedian to the tragedian; he is more ſelf-bred, and has a greater variety in the former than in the latter; in tragedy he has too much levity, and wants expreſſion, and his voice though clear and ſonorous, wants variation; as he ſcarce ever ſpeaks but in one continual tone: yet he poſſeſſes great fervour and manly ſpirit; particularly in his Richard, his Alexander, and the like; his Jachimo, his Phocyas in the ſiege of Damaſcus, &c. are inimitable; and his late attempt in Oreſtes in the Diſtreſſ'd Mother, has deſervedly gained him no ſmall ſhare of applauſe, being chaſte and reſpectable throughout the whole. And were there not quite ſuch a repeated ſameneſs in Mr. Smith's [7] action and voice, there would be no doubt of his becoming a very accompliſhed actor.

Smith is at once the manly and genteel,
Feels all himſelf, and teaches all to feel. *

Mr. REDDISH.

Mr. REDDISH poſſeſſes ſome ſtrokes of very conſpicuous merit, though many degrees inferior to a gentleman he aſſumes to equal, I mean Mr. Barry; yet vanity (I am told) has often prompted him to declare himſelf ſecond to none but Mr. Garrick O! man, man, why art thou ſo vain!—Till Mr. Reddiſh can diveſt himſelf of a ſtiff, heavy figure, a ſet face, and a broken monotony of voice, he may aſſure himſelf the ſeeing and ſagacious public will rate him far [8] inferior to the above gentleman. Mr. Reddiſh without doubt has a tolerable good ſhare of judgment in his profeſſion, whereby it renders him very uſeful in the various parts he performs; but with all the vanity he may poſſeſs himſelf with, he never will be able to fill a firſt form, at leaſt not at ſuch a theatre as Drury-Lane; for in many characters he wants variety, likewiſe expreſſion, and a pliancy of features to exert his exterior powers: were he endowed with Mr. Barry's features and voice, no doubt but he'd fall very little ſhort of that gentleman's abilities; but as dame Nature has not been ſo favourable in adapting him with Mr. Barry's theatrical requiſites, I would adviſe him to content himſelf as he is, and not let ambition reign in his breaſt, for fear it ſhould prove hurtful to him, as he never can prefume to reach capital excellence, except in a few particular parts, as Edgar, in Lear; Moneſes, in Tamerlain, &c. wherefore I am under the indeſpenſable neceſſity [9] of rating Mr. Reddiſh, not as a very capital, but an exceeding uſeful performer.

Reddiſh, forbear thyſelf to over-rate,
And let not vanity contaminate.

Mr. AICKIN.

This actor's forte ſeems to lie moſtly in the impaſſioned declamatory parts of tragedy, in which he without doubt deſerves notice. He has of late made ſome few attempts in comedy; but I cannot by any means admire him in the ſock; although his perſon and voice are both agreeable, yet he wants that natural eaſe and vivacity in his manner, ſo peculiarly neceſſary for the comedian, without which he never can render himſelf conſiderable in this; though there are ſome few parts wherein he makes a tolerable and decent appearance; as Stockwell in the Weſt Indian, and Sir John Flowerdale in the School for Fathers; theſe being beſt ſuited to his manner of acting; [10] ſo that take him altogether, from his judgment, &c. in the caſt of parts he is in poſſeſſion of, he may be deemed a very uſeful and judicious actor.

Aickin was ſorm'd by judgment and by uſe,
Which ſeldom fail ſome merit to produce.

*⁎* This gentleman has quitted Drury Lane Theatre.

Mr. KING.

This favourite gentleman's outſet was in ſome of the country companies. After being tired with his country purſuits, he came to London, and engaged himſelf at Drury-Lane Theatre, and what is very remarkable, Mr. King during the whole time of his engagement at this theatre, never was known once to fill a character that ſeemed ſuitable to his talents; this probably was the motive that induced him at that time to quit Drury-Lane, and engage himſelf [11] under the banners of Mr. Sheridan in Ireland; it being here where he broke out a comedian of the firſt rank. He remained in Ireland for ſeveral years, but from a fracas happening among the principal performers of that theatre he quitted his ſervice like a valiant ſoldier, and came over once more to general Garrick, where ever ſince he has continued to be one of the greateſt favourites on the ſtage, by giving ſuch repeated proofs of his excellent performance, as rank him (Mr. Garrick excepted) the beſt comedian on the Engliſh ſtage; take all in all, perhaps the beſt. And as a prologue ſpeaker in the comic ſtyle, I would aſk where is his equal? (the above gentleman once more excepted); he poſſeſſes in an eminent degree, that lively, ſpirited, and quick ſenſation in his manner, which is ſo admirably adapted for ſpeaking this kind of writing. But above all, is that ſly knowledge of the world, which is ſo excellently blended in Mr. King's features, and in his action, that it oftimes [12] ſends home effects to the furthermoſt and remoteſt ſeats of the galleries, &c.

When lively ſenſe, and fancy ever new,
The path dramatic, with their poeſies ſtrew,
Their ſweet effluvia to our ſenſes bring,
Their laviſh eſſence by their envoy King.

Mr. MOODY.

This performer's juſtly admired abilities are in the parts of Iriſhmen; in thoſe characters he has roſe to eminence, being proſeſſedly the beſt exhibiter of Iriſhmen, now, on either ſtage; and yet it is not only in Iriſhmen Mr. Moody excels, for he is likewiſe capital in many parts of low comedy; I believe we may wiſh in vain for a better Commodore Flip, in the Fair Quaker of Deal; and Adam, in As you like It; or a Vamp, in the Author. There is conſiderable eaſe and propriety in his manner of acting, eſpecially in his Iriſhmen; theſe characters [13] he ſupports with ſo much judgment, and humour, that of late Mr. Moody has become no leſs a favourite with the boxes, than he is with the galleries.

Moody to thee, what height of mirth we owe,
What high burleſque, and mimicry that's low.

Mr. DODD.

Mr. DODD, in the genteel affected coxcomb, is certainly an original; and I am informed he is no leſs ſo by nature is his private deportment, as well as on the ſtage; if this circumſtance be true, we need not longer wonder at his excelling every other actor in this ſpecies of comedy, as he doubtleſs muſt be quite at home in perſonating ſuch characters. Though I have ſeen him with equal merit in ſome parts of low comedy; as ſuch, I ſhould imagine Mr. Dodd has it in his power to be as much the Sir Gravity as the Sir Fopling: for inſtance, [14] his Andrew Ague Cheek, in the Twelfth Night; his Criſpn, in the Anatomiſt; and Old Kickſy, in the Iriſh Widow; are laughable in the higheſt degree. He is likewiſe exceeding uſeful in ſeveral ſinging parts, having a tolerable good, though rather artificial, voice. On the whole, Mr. Dodd will be found very acceptable in any theatre.

Dodd play the coxcomb, the affected beau,
But in thy conduct,—be not really ſo.

*⁎* I ſhould have mentioned Mr. WESTON, immediately after this gentleman, but being a principal member of Mr. FOOTE's ſociety, I think it rather inconſiſtent with my plan.

Mr. LOVE.

Mr. LOVE was a uſeful performer in the walk of comedy he was in poſſeſſion of; [15] as Falſtaff, Jaques, Sir Toby Belch, Caleban, Jobſon, &c. thoſe characters were beſt adapted to his unweildy figure, and moreover ſuited to his manner of acting; his voice was ſomewhat a [...]matical, and abounded with many inharmonious tones; however he more than ſupplied this defect, from his judgment and knowledge in his authors, ſo that he was unequalled in his caſt of parts. This actor was taken off this great ſtage of life about twelve months ſince; his loſs is regretted by all his admirers in his profeſſion, and by alll thoſe who knew him to be an honeſt, and [...].

For Falſtaff, Jaques, for Belch, or Caleban,
Love was the monſter, if you pleas'd the man,

Mr. PARSONS.

This Actor's forte lies in the characters of old men, in which he without doubt claims originality, from his admirable great eaſe, [16] and maſterly ſtrokes of humour, which he ſhows in thoſe parts; that for the moment, we are ſometimes led to believe him to be the man he repreſents; from that exquiſite feeble tottering in his manner, and the wrinkledneſs of old age, which appears ſo very conſpicuous in the muſcles of his face, and in his whole deportment, that we muſt inevitably rank him a finiſhed actor in his walk,

Parſons well ſkill'd attention to engage,
Tho' young, ſupports each requiſite of age.

Mr. VERNON.

Though as the principal vocal performer of Drury-lane theatre, I muſt confeſs I can find but little entertainment from his ſinging; yet I make no doubt but Mr. Vernon has many admirers, but there appears to me to be ſuch an affected ſtiffneſs in his manner, as if he enjoyed more pleaſure from his own harmony than his audience [17] does. Vernon without doubt, has a very good knowledge of muſic, though in point of voice, I think him by no means in competition with your Mattocks's, Du-Bellamy's, &c. at the other houſe; notwithſtanding there are many may wantonly contradict what I have here ſet down; yet were they to hear him ſing in private company without the help of muſic, they'd be as conſcious of this as myſelf, who have been ear witneſs of this aſſertion. As an actor, Mr. Vernon undoubtedly has merit in many parts of comedy; and did not too apparent a coxcomb eternally ſettle itſelf on his features, there would be no doubt of his acquiring much more applauſe in his profeſſion than he has yet attained.

Muſic held judgment, nature held a voice;
Of muſic's preſent, Vernon made his choice.

Mr. BADDELEY.

[18]

Mr. BADDELEY is a uſeful man among the ſecondary claſs of actors; a good low comedian, and exceeding clever in foreign footmen, which ſeems to be chiefly his forte; his faults are but few, as he ſeldom ſtrays out of the common road, or beyond his abilities: a good Varland, in the Weſt-Indian; a decent Trinculo, in the Tempeſt; or Polonius, in Hamlet; and not a bad Touchſtone; notwithſtanding Mr. King's ſuperior abilities in this part, he is far from being a contemptible copy; on the whole he is a very uſeful and juſt performer.

Smiles comedy, by ev'ry feature won.
And owns that Baddeley's her real ſon.

Mr. PALMER.

[19]

Mr. PALMER is a promiſing actor, and what we may call a handſome and portly figure, ſave an unpardonable ſtoop, and aukward gait; his voice is loud and commanding, but neither pleaſing nor diſtinct; nor is his expreſſion and action ſo animated and refined as could be wiſhed. Yet he is reſpectable in ſeveral parts of tragedy and comedy; and would he endeavour to give his body a little more ſteadineſs, he cannot fail (when placed in his proper ſphere of acting,) to meet applauſe.

Palmer with caution act your part, and try
To win our praiſes, and to fix our eye.

Mr. CAUTHERLEY.

What apology can I make to the allſeeing public, for introducing this young [20] man, (who with ſcare one requiſite, except his perſon which is remarkably genteel) figures away in your Hamlet's, Romeo's Dorilaſs, Barnwells, &c. For Heaven ſake! managers, how can you impoſe on the public, and the goodnatured young man's abilities in ſo egregious a manner, to thruſt him into parts where he has not the leaſt glimmering merit to ſuport them; for be aſſured, (and your own judgments muſt needs tell ye,) that all the partiality you are pleaſed to indulge this actor with, will never render him a feaſt for public entertainment in the buſkin. From that prodigious ſameneſs in his manner, faintneſs and want of expreſſion, and above all, his effeminate look and voice, which are ſo very inconſiſtent for ſupporting the dignity of tragedy; that in ſhort, the only and beſt advice I can give Mr Cautherley, is to reject all the managers' future favours of this kind, and never more ſacrifice to his unmerciful performance, thoſe excellent compoſitions of blank verſe, he has hitherto been guilty of; but purſue the [21] ſame track of comedy he is in poſſeſſion with; where he is far ſuperior than in the [...]mer; or at laſt, decent in many parts; and with a little more cultivation of his talents, and attention to his profeſſion, Mr. Cautherliy may become no inconſiderable performer in the ſock.

Of Cautherley if aught the muſe ſhould ſay,
For ſcribbling ſake, ſhe muſt advance the lay.

Mrs. YATES.

This great actreſs, in the preſent theatrical hemiſphere ſhines a perſect conſtellation, (i. e) in the haughty and paſſionate parts of tragedy; here ſhe ſurpaſſes all her female [22] co-temporaries, and aſcends to the topmoſt ſeat of perfection; particularly in her favourite character Mandane in Cyrus, and the like. Hence we find excellence but barely anſwering her deſerts, from her noble preſence, majeſtic gait, piercing eyes and voice, with manner and action ſo ſuitably great, that ſhe ſeldom fails of tranſporting the moſt ruſtic or refined into admiration; but where tender paſſions, ſtiffled pangs, or ſoft feelings are to be expreſſed, Mrs. Yates is quite at a loſs: Here we muſt indiſputably call forth her rival Mrs. Barry, who appears in the former's deficiencies like Melpomene herſelf, and with ſuch tender expreſſion and graceful action, as muſt excite every feeling auditor, and ſtrike criticiſm dumb: thus we are to view Mrs. Yates amazingly great in ſcenes of rage and diſdain, and as cordially admire Mrs. Barry in grief and deſpair: though I ſhall not preſume to draw any farther competition of thoſe two ladies excellencies, for fear I ſhould exceed the bounds of ſimple truth, and render it too [23] profuſe for a work of this kind; wherefore I ſhall only give a conciſe account of Mrs. Yates in the comic walk, where I cannot ſpeak much in her praiſe, notwithſtanding ſhe ſupports ſeveral polite parts with tolerable applauſe, as Lady Townly, Mrs. Oakley, Violante in the Wonder, &c. but we muſt impute her ſucceſs ſolely to her genteel figure and eaſy carriage, as ſuch, I am ſorry to differ ſo much from public opinion which ſeems ſo warm in this lady's favour, by pronouncing her far beneath Mrs. Barry as a general actreſs,

Although poſſeſs'd of lovely charms to pleaſe,
Majeſty, grace, gentility, and eaſe.

Mrs. ABINGTON.

The next on the liſt of female excellence, ſtands one of the greateſt favourites of Thalia, (Mrs. Abington;) this true and perfect actreſs's much admired abilities, lie chiefly [24] in genteel comedy; and in low comedy ſhe is unequalled by any in the parts ſhe is in poſſeſſion of; where her great variety, elegance of dreſs, and acquired accompliſhments, render her without exception, the beſt female comedian on the Engliſh ſtage. And what Colley Cibber obſerves in his apology of the celebrated Mrs Oldfield, I think may juſtly be applied to the accompliſhments of Mrs. Alington, which is, "That many women of the firſt rank might copy ſome part of her behaviour without the leaſt diminition of their ſenſe or dignity."

Grace in her ſteps, in ev'ry motion love,
She looks a being from the realms above.

Miſs YOUNGE.

This thriving and meritorious actreſs, made her firſt appearance at Drury-lane theatre, about five or ſix years ago, in the part of Imogen, in Cymbeline; though a [25] a difficult part for a young actreſs to execute, yet ſhe acquitted herſelf to the entire ſatisfaction and amazement of the audience and like the laſt-mentioned lady, ſtands in the foremoſt circle of female excellence; as ſhe has ſince the firſt time of her commencement, given ſuch proofs of her theatrical powers, both in tragedy and comedy, for the critics to rate her an object of honour in candid criticiſm; her abilities being ſufficiently conſpicuous to induce them to make this obſervation; but her talents are moſtly inclined to the former. She is happily ſuited to the dignity of tragedy; being perfectly well made, and much indebted to nature for a pliancy of features, which mark the paſſions ſhe would preſent with great expreſſion.—And I make no doubt in the walks of tragedy, of one day ſeeing her at the ſummit of perfection.

Younge, if to true perfection you'd aſpire,
Give nature freedom and we muſt admire.

Miſs POPE.

[26]

Miſs POPE without doubt may be accounted a firſt ornament in her walk, which is moſtly in the parts of low comedy; and ſhe ſeems to be an imitation of the celebrated Mrs. Clive; or, as the critics ſtile her, a ſecond edition of that lady. Ever ſince Mrs. Clive's retreat from the ſtage, ſhe has been in poſſeſſion of moſt of her principal parts; and I muſt confeſs, I think her in ſome characters very little deſicient in execution; as Nell, in the Devil to pay; Beatrice, in Much-a-do about Nothing; or Phillis, in the Conſcious Lovers; in theſe ſhe is, without exception, matchleſs; and in many other characters too numerous to mention, ſhe poſſeſſes great ſpirit, and agreeable pertneſs in her manner. Though as to her figure it is rather bulky and unweildy, of which the critics have lately complained; [27] as they think it prevents her from giving that ſcope to her abilities they could wiſh; yet as Churchill remarks on two celebrated performers,

Before ſuch merit all diſtinctions fly,
Prichard's genteel, and Garrick's ſix feet high.

On the whole, from her extenſive judgment and eaſy manner, we muſt undoubtedly rate her a very uſeful, judicious, and capital performer.

Her lively fancy can the ſtoic draw,
In peals of laughter to confeſs her law.

Mrs. BADDELEY.

Mrs. BADDELEY is a ſmart and pleaſing figure, an agreeable actreſs, and very uſeful as a ſinger; but for virtue, modeſty cries huſh! I ſhall not dwell upon this little defect, as it is a frailty moſt of our theatrical [28] ladies are ſo much accuſtomed to, that were I to commence on this topic, I ſhould extend my remarks beyond the bounds of decency and reaſon; not but I believe there are many amiable and virtuous women on the ſtage. But our heroine in particular, pleads the part of chaſtity in her characters, with ſo much grace, ſimplicity, and propriety, that were we not ſenſible to the contrary, we might, without a doubt, imagine it to be her natural qualification. However, as a paſſionate admirer of Mrs. Baddeley in her profeſſion, I heartily with her well, and all the applauſe her merit deſerves. Yet,

Immodeſty's the ſource of ev'ry evil,
It's artful wiles can over-reach the devil. *

Mrs. EGERTON.

[29]

Mrs. EGERTON has merit in ſeveral parts of comedy; as Lady Townly, in the Provoked Huſband; Mrs. Cadwallader, in the Author; and a number of other characters. She has likewiſe a very pleaſing perſon, and generally poſſeſſes the true ſpirit of her author; and her performance is eaſy, ſpirited, and enlivening; in a word, ſhe is a very uſeful and pleaſing actreſs.

Made to engage all eyes, and win all hearts,
We'll name her queen of Cytherean darts.

*⁎* This lady has left the ſtage, and retired to love and enjoyment, where, an author obſerves, the righteous reſt from their labour.

Mrs. SMITH.

[30]

Mrs. SMITH came out the winter before laſt at Drury-lane, where ſhe has in the ſeaſon continued to perform during that period; the part ſhe firſt acted was that of Sylvia, in the dramatic romance of Cymon; in which ſhe was received with univerſal applauſe. She has ſince performed ſeveral other principal ſinging characters with great ſucceſs: particularly Polly, in the Beggar's Opera; Roſetta, in Love in a Village; Patty, in the Maid of the Mill, &c. She is a ſmart little figure, with an admirable ſweet muſical voice, and ſings with the niceſt preciſion of any lady I ever remember to have heard, excepting the late Mrs. Arne; ſhe ſeems to hit off that lady's manner exactly both in ſinging and action. Mrs. Smith, fince Mr. Garrick's alteration of Hamlet, has occaſionally appeared in that play, in the part of Ophelia, with ſo much [31] judgment and eaſe, as for us in reaſon to hope, we may one day admire her as much an actreſs, as we now do in her ſinging; and this, if ſhe adds a little more ſpirit to her manner, we have no room to doubt.

When Smith pours forth her ſweeteſt ſerenade,
She rivals Daulia in the vernal ſhade.

COVENT-GARDEN.

[32]

SPRANGER BARRY, ESQ;

FEW people in the theatrical province, I believe, are ignorant that we are indebted to Ireland for the birth of this gentleman, and likewiſe to his early misfortunes that occaſioned him to make an attempt on the ſtage; a profeſſion he certainly by nature was deſigned for, and where he has ſhone for upwards of thirty years paſt, with ſo much profit to himſelf, and pleaſure to the public, as only to be rivalled by our Engliſh Roſcius.

[33] Mr. BARRY's firſt outſet in this ſphere of life was in the part of Othello, to the ſurprizing ſatisfaction and amazement of the general audience; for ſure never did young actor ſhew ſuch judgment in the choice of his firſt part; he ſeemed a finiſhed Othello (as Chetwood terms it) dropt from the clouds, which has ever ſince continued to be his favourite character; and if we take a ſlight ſurvey of Mr. Barry's features, &c. we need not wonder at his ſucceſs in this part. Firſt, the graces of manly beauty which are ſo favourably blended in his perſon; ſecondly, the prodigious flexibility and harmony of his voice, which is ſo excellently adapted for the exhibition of Othello; in ſhort, in this part and others I ſhall mention, he is beyond critical exception. For example, where is his equal in Jaffier, Romeo, and Caſtalio, he is not even ſurpaſſed by the mighty chief Mr. Garrick; though I am extremely partial to that gentleman's abilities, yet juſtice obliges me to make this obſervation, notwithſtanding [34] there are many ſcenes in the two firſt parts, in which Mr. Garrick eminently excells: but upon critical examination, I believe it will be generally allowed, through the whole courſe of thoſe characters, Mr. Barry takes the lead: though to draw any ſort of parallel between thoſe two gentlemen would be beyond my judgment, and conſequently preſumptive, therefore I ſhall content myſelf with only making mention of a circumſtance of this ſort, and leave the reſt for ſome more able critic to purſue. As to Caſtalio, I don't at this time recollect an inſtance of Mr. Garrick's performing it; Mr. Barry's ſuperiority over any other actor in the lover's part, &c. muſt undoubtedly render him in this character matchleſs, from his amorous harmony of features, melting eyes, and unequalled plaintiveneſs of voice, which are requiſites ſo peculiarly happy for forming the lover, that it is no wonder Mr. Barry ſhould excell ſo far beyond any other performer in this province. [35] I remember once to have ſeen this gentleman in Romeo, particularly in the garden ſcene of this favourite play, (where Juliet appears at the window) I thought he ſpoke the following lines incomparably fine, with a ſyrenic ſweetneſs of voice.

See how ſhe leans her cheek upon her hand.
Oh! that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek.

And afterwards when Juliet replies, "Ah! me," then with what extacy he immediately ſpoke theſe words:

—She ſpeaks! ſhe ſpeaks!
Oh! ſpeak again, bright angel, for thou art
As glorious to this ſight, being o'er my head,
As is a winged meſſenger from Heaven.

In the parting ſcene in the third act of this play, I likewiſe thought him exceeding pictureſque and affecting, where he takes [36] leave of Juliet in a ſhort ſentence, ending as follows:

My life! my love! my ſoul! adieu!

He ſeemed to penetrate the foregoing line into the hearts of the moſt diſtant ſpectators: but what I moſtly admired in Mr. Barry's performance of this part, was the beginning of the tomb ſcene, where Juliet wakes; here a tranſport of joy, love, and tenderneſs flows within him; with what acclamation and rapture he delivered this ſentence:

She ſpeaks! ſhe lives! and we ſhall ſtill be bleſs'd!
My kind p [...]opitious ſtars o'er-pay me now
For all my ſorrows paſt;—riſe, riſe, my Juliet;
And from this cave of death, this houſe of horror,
Quick let me ſnatch thee to thy Romeo's arms,
The [...]e breathe a vital ſpirit in thy lips,
And call thee back to life, and love.

[37] There are many more beauties and excellencies I could remark in Mr. Barry's performances, in the pathetic and amorous; but being too long for the limits of my deſign, they would appear tedious: all the imperfections I can diſcover about Mr. Barry is in his action, which is ſometimes rather flat and unmeaning to the true ſenſe of his words, and likewiſe a ſtoop in his ſhoulders, and a bend in his knees, as if he was a [...]hamed of his ſuperior ſtature, (as a critic obſerves) and deſirous to level it to the common ſtandard: but I forget that he is bordering on the vale of years, conſequently ſuch blemiſhes as thoſe muſt now be pardoned and forgiven.

O! Barry bleſt with perſon to excell,
In vain my muſe thy merit ſpares to tell.
[...]e [...]ne's boaſt, the ſtage's ſecond pride,
The plaintive virtues in thy breaſt reſide.

Mr. LEE.

[38]

This eſtabliſhed veteran from Ireland, made his appearance this winter at Covent Garden, in the part of Bayes in the Rehearſal, though I was not ſo fortunate as to be preſent at this exhibition, I cannot therefore pretend to be a competent judge of his merit in that part: but by what I have ſeen of him ſince in Benedict, Richard the third, and Oſman in Zara, I think he has great abilities: he has numberleſs beauties which are entirely his own, as he appears to be free from imitation, and built upon nature for his guide; wherefore his performances ſhew themſelves rather in a new dreſs; but how far it may be requiſite I will not preſume to ſay, though I muſt confeſs he gave pleaſure to me, yet might not to others. In regard to this actor's figure, I can't ſpeak much in its praiſe, I think him too corpulent and maſculine; [39] notwithſtanding his features are expreſſive, his voice articulate and powerful, his action juſt and graceful, and his deportment tolerable eaſy and refined, and what is more obſervable, free from that ſtiffneſs, (conſidering his part) many actors are ſubject to; theſe requiſites, joined to a true underſtanding of his merit, muſt render Mr. Lee a valuable addition to the above ſtage.

When merit's great and action's juſt and true,
The mind it will delight, the heart ſubdue.

Mr. ROSS.

This gentleman was formerly a great favourite with the public, but is now upon the decline; his perſon, which uſed to be reckoned exceeding handſome and wellmade, is grown fat and unwieldy; his face too plump to ſhew off the diſtention or relaxation of the muſcles in exhibiting the paſſions; and his voice, which was pleaſing [40] and diſtinct, is upon the break; yet in his preſent ſtate he is maſter of great powers; and did he exert all of them oftener, and endeavour to put as much action in his performance as he poſſibly can, there are few of his co-temporaries could equal him in his walk.

Give Ross his partridge, give him too his claret ,
Ross will act well—but better if you bar it.

*⁎* This gentleman has left the London ſtage, and is I believe performing at Edinburgh.

Mr. MACKLIN.

The irreparable loſs the ſtage has ſuſtained ſince this gentleman has been diſcarded from it, ought to be daily lamented by every [41] friend to the drama, to ſee ſuch excellent comic abilities lie buried in oblivion: but I hope Mr. Macklin, by the exertion of his beſt friends, will be enabled to overcome the ill-grounded reſentment of his enemies, and be brought back to that ſeat of perfection he has ſo long filled with admiration and aſtoniſhment. I ſhall not dwell upon this actor's merit, but the reader is to obſerve, that it is ſo very conſpicuous as to bear the ſtricteſt ſcrutiny, even from his adverſaries, though

Merit will ſometimes fail of due regard,
And virtue's ſelf muſt be its own reward.

Mr. WOODWARD.

What can I ſay of this gentleman, whoſe very conſpicuous abilities are ſo well known and admired in the ſock, by every frequenter of the theatre. The public I believe, need not be told that this veteran's [42] outſet on the ſtage, was at firſt as an harlequin; he being articled to the late Mr. Rich, the celebrated harlequin, and manager of Covent-garden theatre; after being inſtructed in all the requiſites of pantomime, he acquired ſo extenſive a knowledge of the ſock, that at the expiration of his term, he was engaged by his pantomical maſter, as a comedian, at a very conſiderable ſalary; and ſoon after acquired a firſt-rate reputation in his caſt of parts. Few are the walks of comedy Mr. Woodward has not attempted, and not any wherein he has not met with great and merited applauſe. His figure is genteel, his voice ſmart, agreeable, and pliant; and both ſeem to point out the politer caſt; yet is ſomewhat odd, that this actor never pleaſes his audience more, than when he is neceſſitated, from his characters, to diſtort that genteel figure into the aukward deportment of a country looby; or to ſwell his voice out of its natural tone, into the hectoring accents of a bully, or a bluſterer; and he never receives the firſt blow from any [43] of the drama on the ſtage with him, but he generally returns it with double the force of his antagoniſt. As a comedian, I look upon Mr Woodward to be unequalled by any in his caſt of parts; ſuch Bobadil, Marplot, Younger, Wou'd-be, Petrutio, Apprentice, Fine Gentleman in Lethe, &c. &c. Beſides he has ſupplied the ſtage with ſeveral well wrote prologues, pantomimes, &c.

Woodward for farce, and pantomime renown'd
With wreaths of praiſe by ev'ry hand is crown'd.

Mr. SHUTER.

The ſon of drollery and low humour, owes almoſt every thing to nature; education or art claim very little ſhare in his ſucceſs; this is by ſome objected to, as a deſiciency in his profeſſion, yet it has been ſo ſar uſeful to Mr. Shuter, that it has left him his natural parts free, and uncorrupted by imitation; and renders him an original actor. He poſſeſſes [44] in an eminent degree, a deal of humour, though he is apt to ſcrew the ſeatures of his face into deformity, but never laughs at his own jeſt, he has ſtrong ſeatures, and is exceeding happy in a peculiar turn of face, which marks the reſpective characters he performs with great propriety and natural humour. But he is always more comical Ned Shuter, than any thing elſe.

Shuter ſweet laughter's child, what humour's thine,
From thee impetuous flows each comic line

Mr. DYER.

Mr. DYER was a uſeful and pleaſing comedian, a good Modely, in the Cuſtom of the Manor; a Clodio; or a Tom, in the Conſcious Lovers; a man, amiable in his character, juſt in his principles, and of no inconſiderable ſhare of merit in his profeſſion; ſuch were the outlines of Mr Dyer, till unfortunately [45] for the lovers of the theatre, and his friends in general, he paid the laſt debt of nature we all owe, a few nights after performing Jeremy, in Mr. Congreve's celebrated comedy of Love for Love, for his own benefit. 7

Dyer, I weep for thy departed ſhade,
For wept each Muſe, when thy laſt debt was paid.

M. LEWIS.

This gentleman made his firſt appearance at Covent-garden theatre, laſt winter, in the part of Belcour, in the Weſt Indian; in which he met with great applauſe. He has ſince appeared in Sir George Airy, in [46] the Buſy Body; Valentine, in Love for Love; and ſeveral other characters both in tragedy and comedy; in the former, he has performed Poſthumus, in Cymbeline; the Prince of Wales, in the firſt part of Henry the fourth, &c. but I cannot admire him in the buſkin, his figure though exceeding genteel and well made, wants conſequence, and his voice is inharmonious and defective. Mr Lewis poſſeſſes great fire and ſpirit, but he is apt to carry them too far; and more eſpecially in his comic characters, which renders his performance almoſt unintelligible; but I ſhould not condemn young merit, as the greateſt actors, ancient and modern, have been obliged to time and attention, for the cultivation of their talents; therefore, I think there is no doubt, but Mr. Lewis in the courſe of time may become a a very conſiderable performer.

Lewis the ſpace between a laugh and cry,
Look in your mirror, and for once deſcry;
Then ſhall I give you all your merit's praiſe,
Perhaps you'll ſhine, in future, better lays.

Mr. BENSLEY.

[47]

Though as an actor, I muſt confeſs Mr. Benſley adds very little to this ſcience; yet from the caſt of parts he is in poſſeſſion of, and the ſalary he is in receipt with, ſomewhat entitles him to a place among the principal performers. Though to enter critically upon this gentleman, he has neither face, voice, manner, or ſcarce any theatrical requiſite; his perſon to be looked at, is tolerable; but as ſoon as ſet in motion, it becomes contemptible; or, at leaſt, as much intolerable; there however is one principal requiſite in this actor's favour, which deſerves notice; that is, his being generally more correct in his parts than the reſt of his profeſſors, together with a willingneſs to pleaſe, as he appears to ſtudy his parts with unremitted diligence and care; which, from a pretty good education, and [48] his knowledge of the dramatic authors, carries him through his caſt of characters with a tolerable good grace. I cannot quit this gentleman, without doing him the juſtice to ſay, that human nature never produced a more amiable character in private life.

Benſley's no actor, match him if ye can
Ye greateſt actors, he's a worthy man.

Mr. MATTOCKS.

As an actor, Mr. Mattocks has very little title to public favour; as a ſinger, he claims very reſpectful notice; his voice is clear, ſoft, melodious, and expreſſive; his perſon is tall, and well made; yet he wants the manly grace and vigour his ſex demands; and animation to inſpirit the ſeveral characters he performs, that his performance in the ſock is rather flat and inſipid; as a vocal performer, I look upon Mr. Mattocks to be the beſt on either theatre in point of voice, [49] and did he poſſeſs more compaſs, he probably might be the beſt on any ſtage.

To charm us, Mattocks borrows from the ſpheres,
His mien how ſweet, his voice delights our ears.

Mr. CLARKE.

Mr. CLARKE is a judicious and exceeding uſeful actor, where he is confined to his own natural walk, which is the rough, honeſt parts of tragedy, ſuch as Henry the Eighth, Sciolto in the Fair Penitent, Clytus in Alexander the Great, or Kent in King Lear, &c. There is a manlineſs in his perſon, with a ſound and juſt tone of voice which renders him in this walk ſecond to none on either of the ſtages.

Does Clarke rough honeſty in play preſent?
No, Clarke is really in his heart a Kent.

Mr. QUICK.

[50]

Though I may be called to an account for introducing this promiſing Actor among the capital performers, yet his merit in ſeveral parts of low comedy, juſtly entitle him to a place here. There is a variety in his performance, with a peculiar turn of wit in his manner, though a little bordering on grimace, as he is too apt, like a forementioned performer, to ſcrew the muſcles of his face up into many very ridiculous forms, which appears to be by way of imitating the former; however, Mr. Quick has lately given ſufficient proofs of his growing merit, particularly in Tony Lumpkin in She Stoops to Conquer, in which character I think he will bear a ſcrutiny from the niceſt critic or connoiſſeur.

Laugh'd into wit, grimace from Quick ſhall riſe,
And quickly pleaſe our ears, our hearts and eyes.

Mrs. BARRY.

[51]

This Lady's eſtabliſhed reputation with the town, is too well known to require any further praiſe or cenſure, (than what ha been already ſaid in my account of Mr. Yates) her unequalled abilities being ſo univerſally known and admired by every lover of the theatre.—Her majeſtic deportment, elevated ſpeech, expreſſive manner, and alacrity, all pronounce her to be the moſt accompliſhed actreſs on the Engliſh, perhaps on the European ſtage, therefore I ſhall be brief, and conclude this Lady with the following lines:

O! Barry, when my muſe but thinks on thee,
She thinks of merit, grace, and tragedy.

Mrs. HARTLEY.

This Lady made her firſt appearance on the ſtage in one of the county towns of [52] England, but in what character, or where for a certainty, I will not preſume to ſay; however, be this as it will, it is now two ſeaſons ſince ſhe firſt appeared at Covent-Garden theatre, in the character of Jane Shore, in which ſhe was received with reſpectable marks of applauſe by a very brilliant audience.—This Lady is an exceeding good ſigure; in her perſon ſhe is tall and elegant, her face is likewiſe remarkably handſome, and her whole deportment genteel and eaſy; in ſhort, ſhe is the fineſt figure on the London ſtage: therefore it is not to be wondered, a lady endued with ſuch requiſites for this profeſſion ſhould gain great applauſe, had ſhe abſolutely little or no merit. But this is not Mrs. Hartley's caſe, her excellent performance of the above, and many other parts ſhe has ſince appeared in, has fully convinced us to the contrary. Her performance of Elfrida, Statira, and Roſamond in Mr. Hull's new play of King Henry the Second, I believe has given the public inconteſtable proofs of her [53] riſing genius. The only fault I can diſcover in this Lady, is, her voice is ſomewhat harſh, and ſhe is ſometimes apt to wind it beyond the bounds of harmony: did Mrs. Hartley take a little more pains in modulating her accents, it would add greatly to her praiſe. But, as the poet remarks,

If to her ſhare ſome female errors fall,
Look in her face, and you'll forgive them all.

Mrs. MATTOCKS.

This uſeful and pleaſing actreſs is a child of the ſtage, her father and mother being both of that profeſſion at the time of her birth; her firſt outſet was in the ſinging parts, with no inconſiderable ſhare of applauſe: but it was not ſinging alone conſtructed this Lady's abilities, it was her deſirous and ſucceſsful attempts in the lively, ſpirited parts of comedy, in which ſhe ſucceeded [54] to her wiſhes, and now ſtands foremoſt among the favourite daughters of Thalia: ſhe has ſince appeared in tragedy with all the ſucceſs the diminutive ſize of her figure will permit; and indeed ſhe is above mediocrity in any part ſhe has performed in the latter. This actreſs likewiſe poſſeſſes in all her various characters, a prodigious fund of ſenſibility, and is moſtly perſect in the true ſenſe and ſpirit of her author; that take all in all, a pleaſing perſon, an agreeable voice, and a good ſhare of judgment, renders her one of the moſt uſeful performers belonging to Covent-Garden theatre.

Thalia and Melpomene combin'd,
To ſhew in Mattocks all their ſorce refin'd.

Miſs MACKLIN.

Miſs MACKLIN, like the above Lady, is a child of the ſtage; her father is the fore-mentioned excluded, and celebrated comedian, [55] Mr. Charles Macklin.—This Lady like Mrs. Mattocks came out in the ſinging characters, in which her elegant figure, and profound taſte in muſic gained her conſiderable applauſe. From this, like the aforeſaid Lady, ſhe ſtept forth into the walks of comedy and tragedy, where ſhe has ſhone for ſeveral years paſt with the public's unlimited approbation; but her talents are moſtly inclined to the former, as ſhe ſeldom appears in the latter, her parts being but few, and are generally confined to the tender caſt; though did ſhe appear oftner in tragedy, it probably might be more entertaining to the public, (and I don't ſee why ſhe ſhould not) as it would be the means of credibly reſtoring many parts tha are now loſt to Covent-Garden ſtage.

Euterpe's darling child in Macklin ſee,
And call her child of ſweeteſt melody.

Mrs. BULKLEY.

[56]

This Lady's firſt outſet in liſe was as a dancer at Covent-Garden, a ſcience Mrs. Bulkley is moſt paſſionately fond of, and which I am given to underſtand ſhe purſued more for pleaſure than advantage to herſelf; however, dancing, like ſinging to Mrs. Mattocks and Miſs Macklin, was diſcovered to be not her only merit, in conſequence of which, (through the ardent perſuaſions of ſome friends) ſhe condeſcended to try what ſhe could do in the ſock and buſkin, in which ſhe has undoubtedly anſwered the expectation of thoſe who ſolicited herto purſue this undertaking; but I think the ſock ſeems to ſit much eaſier on this Lady than the buſkin; * there is an agreeableneſs [57] in her addreſs that appears to be beſt adapted to comedy, though I have ſeen her with deſerved ſucceſs in ſeveral parts of tragedy; yet here I think ſhe ſometimes wants expreſſion, and variation in her features and voice. However, we may rate Mrs. Bulkley from the delicacy of her perſon, and her judgment, a very agreeable, uſeful, and judicious Actreſs.

Terpſechore to Bulkley gave the part,
By graceful motion, to attract the heart.

Mrs. GREEN.

This Actreſs, (like Miſs Pope of Drury-Lane theatre), may in ſome meaſure be deemed as a copy of Mrs. Clive; but of the two, the laſt mentioned lady gains the preference in this point; there is a greater variety in Miſs Pope than in Mrs. Green; or, in the theatrical term of expreſſing it, more of the viſ-comica, which ſo much abounded [58] in their great predeceſſor. Mrs. Green's chief abilities lie in Chamber-maids, where her humour and prodigious flow of ſpirits are beſt ſuited. It is obſerved by a celebrated critic, that it is a ſort of misfortune for this Actreſs, that we have not yet adopted in England the French cuſtom of making important characters of Chamber-maids, ſhe being poſſeſſed of all thoſe requiſites neceſſary to excell in that province, where her great humour, ſmart repartee, lively voice, and agreeable pertneſs, would be moſt fortunately placed. She is ſomewhat too affected in her manner, though it would be eſſentially meritable in the above; but in her preſent caſt of characters I think it rather a defect; nevertheleſs, we muſt ſet down Mrs. Green a very conſiderable and valuable Actreſs in her walk.

Gay comedy to Green deſcends in ſmiles,
And wins applauſe thro' all her little wiles.

Miſs MILLER.

[59]

Miſs MILLER without doubt has merit in many parts of tragedy, ſuch as Roxana, Alicia, Juliet, Cordelia, &c. and in comedy ſhe is uſeful in the few parts ſhe performs; but ſhe appears ſo ſeldom in the ſock, that it is almoſt needleſs for me to mention this. The faults of this Lady generally lie in a want of expreſſion, and in her voice which is not exactly tunable, and wants compaſs; and could ſhe break herſelf of that ſtiffneſs in her gait, it would add no ſmall ſhare towards her preferment; though this defect may be over-looked in her performance of the haughty Roxana, and Alicia, yet let me tell Miſs Miller, it does her great prejudice in perſonating the tender parts of tragedy which ſhe is in poſſeſſion of, ſuch as Juliet, Cordelia, &c. by reaſon it prevents her from giving that ſoft [60] and tender expreſſion which is ſo much required in thoſe parts: but,

Who can the ſweetly plaintive Miller hear,
And not emit the ſympathetic tear.

*⁎* Miſs Miller at preſent is diſengaged from Covent-Garden, occaſioned by the late alteration at that theatre.

Miſs BARSANTI.

This lady made her firſt appearance at Covent-Garden theatre, in a new interlude wrote for that purpoſe by the late acting manager.—Miſs Barſanti is a promiſing young Actreſs; ſince her commencement ſhe has appeared in ſeveral parts of polite comedy with univerſal applauſe, particularly, in Eſtefania, in Rule a Wife and have a Wife; Mrs. Oakley, in the Jealous Wife; Charlotte Ruſport, in the Weſt Indian, &c. She is a ſmart, handſome figure, and not much unlike in ſtature, the favourite Mrs. [61] Abington; and I hear ſhe has fixed upon this lady as a model; if ſo, I don't know a better to copy, only I would have her take care, that this lady's mode of dreſſing her characters does not lead her into errors, as what would be allowable in Mrs. Abington from her exterior manner in conducting herſelf, might be prejudicial to Miſs Barſanti; however, on the whole, I would have this young lady beware of imitation, as it ſometimes proves many a promiſing young actor's, or actreſs's ruin, by making their performance contemptible and ridiculous; though,

In Miſs Barſanti, each improving grace
Glows rip'ning from her boſom to her face.

Miſs CATLEY.

As an actreſs, this lady has little pretention to be ſpoke of; as a ſinger, ſhe is at preſent the ſweeteſt warbler on the Engliſh [62] ſtage. Her voice is ſtrong, clear, harmonious, and expreſſive; notwithſtanding theſe muſical requiſites, through a careleſs, inexcuſable negligence, ſhe ſings with great impropriety, that often renders her vocal performance diſguſting; I mention this, as it is in her power (would ſhe take a little more pains) to remedy it. She likewiſe throws into her parts many indecent, and vulgar attitudes, which is ſtill worſe than the former, for as the poet obſerves,

Immodeſt deeds admit of no defence,
For want of decency is want of ſenſe.

In the part of Juno, in the Burletta of the Golden Pippin, Miſs Catley is exceeding low and immodeſt; but why need I mention all this of a lady, whoſe private character is too much connected with ſuch behaviour; and I am almoſt led to imagine, the author of the Pippin has drawn his character of Juno from nature, there being ſuch a reſemblance between the part, and the perform [63] er's private and public conduct, that I ſcarce think but it was ſo. But not to tire the reader's patience with too long a preamble on a ſubject of this kind, ſo many anecdotes, &c. having been publiſhed concerning this lady, it will be uſeleſs, beſides unbecoming, to dwell here upon Miſs Catley's private character, as ſuch I ſhall conclude this celebrated lady, and refer ſuch of my curious readers, as chuſe to trace the various incidents of her paſt life) to her memoirs, where they will find them more extenſively authenticated, and juſtly adhered to.

The ſportive loves without the leaſt diſguiſe,
Appear unſham'd in Catley's wanton eyes.

The CONCLUSION.

Having given an account of all the principal actors and actreſſes, that have appeared on the ſtage for upwards of two years back, I ſhall now favour the reader with ſome remarks on the inferior performers, [64] ſuch as are not deſtitute of merit, although annot be deemed as capitals; the firſt of thoſe gentry ſtands Mr. Lee Lewes, this perſon is a thriving and pleaſing comedian; there is a ſmartneſs in his manner that muſt one time render him conſiderable. The next are Mr. J. A [...]ckin and Mr Wroughton, two reſpectable performers where nothing great is wanting; the firſt much ſuperior to the latter in critical eſtimation, being a juſt and decent performer; the other is too much guilty of mouthing, as Shakeſpeare terms it, and is not totally engaging in his manner, and wants expreſſion, &c. Mr. Dunſtall is a good low comedian, but like the preceding gentleman, too much of a mouther: notwithſtanding, his Hodge, and Sir Jealous Traffick, are inimitable, ſuch characters being happily ſuited to his manner. Mr. Jefferſon and Mr. Packer are uſeful men, the firſt conſiderably the be [...]t in tragedy, and pretty equal in comedy, though both bordering on the palm of inſipidity.—Mr. Hull is a gentleman who underſtands [65] his author, and the drama, exceeding well, is very capable of ſupporting paternal characters, but for want of powers in other views, he is no ways important as an actor, though a very chaſte and reſpectable dramatic writer. Mr Clinch and Mr Diamond, theſe two gentlemen ſtarted the ſame ſeaſon at Drury-lane theatre, (i. e.) in October 1772, the one in Alexander the Great, the other in Romeo; Mr. Clinch has ſince proved to be a Clinch, for he clinches ſo vociferouſly, that if he is not leſs violent, he will inevitably tear himſelf, and his parts to rags; therefore I would adviſe him not to be ſo laviſh with his ſuperfluous fire and action, as by obſerving this obſervation, he would buſtle through his caſt of characters with much more decency and applauſe than he uſually does. Mr Diamond diſplayed on his firſt appearance, very conſpicuous merit in ſome ſcenes of Romeo; in others, he was totally inſufficient, in judgment, voice, and expreſſion, particularly in the frantic ſcenes; but on the whole, he ſupported [66] that character (conſidering his age, which was then but nineteen,) with tolerable eaſe and propriety: Mr. Diamond has left Drury-lane, but in what quarter of the globe he is at preſent, I will not preſume to fay. Mr Lacy; this gentleman made his appearance laſt winter in Alexander, but not meeting (in his attempt) with ſo much public indulgence as was literally expected, he has, I believe, cordially relinquiſhed all thoughts of any future trial on the ſtage. Mr. Melmoth; this ingenious perſon came out laſt benefit time, in the part of Cyrus, which character he went through with candid applauſe; he has ſince played Hamlet, and is far from being contemptible in it, having a very good knowledge of his author, and a juſt conception of the part, and with a little cultivation of his talents, he may be enabled to make no inconſiderable ſtand as a tragedian. Meſſ. Banniſter, Reinhold, and Du-Bellamy; nothing of ſpeakers, but well eſteemed ſingers; the [67] two firſt have excellent baſe voices, the laſt an inimitable counter, though greatly injured by a defective ear to muſic. There are many more I could thruſt into my account, ſuch as Mr. Waldron, Mr. Young, Mr. Booth, Mr. Brereton, &c. &c. but are not worthy our attention; as ſuch I ſhall proceed to the ladies in this circle of action; among which ſtands foremoſt, Mrs. Pitt; this is a truly great actreſs in her walk, which is in the parts of ſuperannuated old maids, without her equal on the ſtage. The next ſtands Mrs. Leſſingham and Mrs. Melmoth, the former is very agreeable in ſome parts of comedy, but wretchedly horrible in tragedy; being deſtitute of voice, manner, expreſſion, and in ſhort, almoſt every requiſite; the latter has not yet attempted comedy, but has continued (ſince her firſt appearance in Caliſta, in the Fair Penitent) to be very reſpectable in ſeveral parts of tragedy, and ſeems to be a promiſing lady. Mrs. Greville and Miſs Jarratt; two very pretty women, and thriving acreſſes; [68] Mrs. Greville has very pleaſing comic abilities as witneſs her Iriſh widow, and many other characters of that caſt; and were ſ [...]e to attempt tragedy, I am apt to think ſhe would be equally applauded. having ſeen her in the country in ſeveral capital parts with great ſuccceſs, particularly Monimia in the Orphan, Juliet, Imogen, &c. &c. Miſs Jarratt is ſo very agreable in all ſhe undertakes, and gives ſuch repeated prooſs of her growing merit, that it is neeedleſs for me to ſay more on the ſubject, than by adding, that ſhe is a pretty, decent, and promiſing actreſs. The following ladies are, Mrs. Baker, Mrs. Wrighten, Miſs Brown, and Miſs Wylde, which are all uſeful, pleaſing, and judicious performers in their reſpective characters. After ſaying thus much, I ſhall conlude.—

Th' affects and defects of each actor I've ſtated,
And not one have I under, or over-rated,
Ye critics ceny, if you can, what's related.

STRICTURES On the much admired TRAGEDY of the ORPHAN.
In a LETTER to a Young LADY.

[69]
Dear Miſs,

I TAKE this opportunity to fulfil your requeſt, as it is unbounded happineſs to me at all times to devote myſelf to your ſervice, but I am exceſſive bad at compliments, I therefore ſhall leave theſe to noveliſts, &c. and proceed to the ſubject of the play; which is a very affecting circumſtance. The ſtory on which this tragedy is founded, is that of Iphigenia, which is wrought up with ſuch maſterly elocution by Mr. Otway the author, that thoſe auditors who are not excited at the repreſentation [70] of this play, muſt be void of common feeling; and more eſpecially when a Barry appears in Caſtalio, or a Mrs. Barry in Monimia, or the excellent performance of a Garrick in Chamont, which I remember to have ſeen; and when thus ſupported by three ſuch inimitable ornaments, together with the enraptured ſtile of the author, who then I ſay, but the dulleſt, unfeeling auditor, but what muſt be excited at ſuch an exhibition; for who can behold the diſtreſsful ſituations of Caſtalio, and the injured Monimia, without ſharing in their affliction.—The firſt ſcene in this play that ſhould raiſe our paſſions, is in the ſecond act, where Monimia upbraids Caſtalio for his leaving her alone to the intreaties of his brother Polidore; which he, like an equivocating friend, does, in order to calm his brother's rage; ſeeing the ardour of his paſſion for her, and not willing to offend him, imagining at the ſame time, all Polidore's ſolicitations to Monimia would be in vain, being ſenſible Monimia's affections were entirely to himſelf. [71] Therefore what auditor would not be affected at Caſtalio's griefs, when the object of his heart upbraids him, and vows never to liſten to him more. What diſtreſs the poor crying Caſtalio appears to be in, when he ſpeaks the following ſentence to her.

Who can hear this, and bear an equal mind,
Since you will drive me from you, I muſt go;
But Oh! Monimia, when thou haſt baniſhed me
No creeping ſlave, though tractable and dull
As artful woman, for her end would chuſe,
Shall ever dote as I have done, for Oh!
No tongue my pleaſure nor my pains, can tell,
Tis Heav'n to have thee, and without thee Hell.

Then after he has ſpoken the foregoing ſentence, when his beloved Monimia is ſo charmed with the muſic of his tongue, that ſhe forgives and pities him. Then what extatic joy flows immediate within him; with what rapture does the following ſpeech come from his mouth. But never [72] more ſo, than when it is delivered by the ſweet, melodious, and expreſſive voice, and manner of a Barry.

Where am I, ſurely paradiſe is round me,
Sweets planted by the hand of Heav'n grow here,
And ev'ry ſenſe is full of thy perfection;
To hear thee ſpeak, might calm a madman's frenzy,
Till by attention he forgot his ſorrows.
But to behold thy eyes, the amazing beauties,
Might make him rage again with love, as I do.
To touch thee's Heaven, but to enjoy thee, Oh!
Thou nature's whole perfection in one piece;
Sure framing thee, Heav'n took unuſual care,
As it's own beauty, it deſign'd thee fair,
And form'd thee by the beſt lov'd Angel there.

The next and moſt affecting circumſtance in this play is in the third act, after Caſtalio's marriage with Monimia, when they confer together concerning enjoying at night their nuptial happineſs; ‘which, after ſome intreaty, Monimia condeſcends, when [73] all the family are at reſt, to let him into her chamber, when he, Caſtalio, by order of Monimia is to make a certain ſignal, (‘which is three ſoft taps at the chamberdoor’)’ at which he is to gain admittance: but, alas! unhappily his brother Polidore liſtens, and over-hears the whole tenor of their appointment; therefore, not knowing of their marriage, Polidore is much chagrined at the thoughts of Caſtalio's happineſs, he was going to reap with the fair Monimia. In conſequence, he contrives a plot to enjoy her if poſſible himſelf: accordingly he gets his little page Cordelia to go and trifle with Caſtalio in order to delay the time; in the mean while, he counterfeits his brother, and with the aforeſaid ſignal gains entrance, and enjoys Monimia; ſhe at the ſame time miſtaking him for her lord Caſtalio.—Unfortunately, the poor fond adorer comes, according to his appointment made, glowing with rapture at the thoughts of his bliſsful night to come with his dear Monimia; but unhappily [74] he is refuſed admittance by the maid ſervant, being conſcious (as ſhe thought) ſhe let Caſtalio in before, and imagining the real huſband to be the counterfeit Polidore. Who can behold ſuch a ſcene as this, without ſharing in the diſtreſſes of Caſtalio? and more eſpecially, when he lay down at the door almoſt diſtracted, thinking it is Monimia's cruelty that has uſed him thus.

In the fourth act, we ſee Caſtalio upbraid Monimia in the moſt fervent manner poſſible, for her ſevere treatment, as he ſuppoſed, which ſhe is greatly ſurpriſed at, and well ſhe may be, when at the ſight of him ſhe flies with energy to his arms, imagining how happy ſhe was in his embraces the preceding night; at the ſame time, as I have obſerved, it was the profligate Polidore. What ſhould moſt excite our feeling in this act, is to ſee the injured Monimia dragged like a dog by her beloved Caſtalio to the door, when he cruelly breaks from [75] her with all the fierceneſs of a fiend; and afterwards when ſhe acquaints her brother Chamont, of the ſevere and unexpected treatment which ſhe has received from her lord; at which, how chagrined and exaſperated is Chamont for the injury done to his ſiſter, and vows vengeance on Caſtalio: with what exclamation he ſpeaks the following lines to old Acaſto Caſtalio's father.

—I ſay my ſiſter's wrong'd,
Monimia my ſiſter, born as high,
And noble as Caſtalio,—do her juſtice,
Or, by the Gods, I'll lay a ſcene of blood,
Shall make this dwelling horrible to nature;
I'll do't—hark you, my lord, your ſon Caſtalio,
Take him to your cloſet, and there teach him manners.

With what unbounded excellence Mr. Garrick ſpeaks the above ſentence; what contempt he ſhews when he utters the laſt two lines, that ſo elegantly diſcovers how much he is diſpleaſed at the cruel uſage done [76] to Monimia; that in ſhort, this laſt ſcene is exceeding natural and affecting.—The laſt act, at the riſing of the curtain, diſcovers the unhappy Caſtalio lying on the ground in a ſtate of lunacy, curſing Monimia, and all the inconſtant ſex of women, till a ſervant enters, and acquaints him, how wild and intemperate Monimia is for to behold her lord; at which he relinquiſhes all of a ſudden into love and tenderneſs for her. ‘Soon after, Monimia enters, and after ſome conference together, ſhe tells him, ‘She is reſolved from that day never more to ſee his face again’:’ in what diſtreſsful accents he immediately after ſpeaks this ſentence:

Where am I! ſure I wander 'midſt enchantment,
And never more ſhall find the way to reſt;
But, Oh! Monimia, art thou indeed reſolv'd
To puniſh me with everlaſting abſence;
Why turn'ſt thou from me, I am alone already;
Methinks I ſtand upon a naked beach,
[77] Sighing to winds, and to the ſeas complaining,
Whilſt afar off, the veſſel ſ [...]ils away,
Where all the treaſure of my ſoul's embark'd:
Wilt thou not turn—Oh! could thoſe eyes but ſpeak,
I ſhould know all, for love is pregnant in 'em;
They ſwell, they preſs their beams upon me ſtill;
Wilt thou not ſpeak, if we muſt part for ever,
Give me but one kind word to think upon,
And pleaſe myſelf withal, whilſt my heart's breaking.

Mrs. Barry, the original Monimia, I am told, always ſhed tears at this beautiful, or rather bewitching paſſage, as it may properly be ſo called; and afterwards when ſhe replied and exits, "Ah! poor Caſtalio," I have heard, in ſpeaking theſe three words ſhe has been ſo much affected, ſeeing at that inſtant the diſtreſſed ſituation Caſtalio appeared to be in, that it was always ſome [78] time before ſhe rightly could recover herſelf; and dull muſt be the apprehenſion of the auditor that is not affected with ſuch a ſcene: notwithſtanding what we ſee is only feigned to us; yet, in all probability, the ſtory from whence the origin of this tragedy was founded was true, wherefore, ſuch an inſtance repreſented ſhould moſt certainly excite our feelings. But, to proceed, the cataſtrophe of this play is very judiciouſly wound up by the author, and abounds with a variety of incidents; for here we ſee the fall of Monimia, Caſtalio, and Polidore, and Chamont vowing deſtruction on Acaſto and all his houſe, for the injury done his ſiſter. The concluſion is prodigiouſly affecting, though our pity ſhould only be reſerved for the good old father Acaſto, the injured Monimia, and the poor unfortunate ſon Caſtalio; as the fall of Polidore ſhould not in the leaſt affect us, he being nothing more than a mere proſelyte of vice.—The author of this play (I believe it will be generally allowed by all [79] impartial judges) wrote more immediately to the heart in painting the tender paſſions than any of his predeceſſors; or, in ſhort, any of his cotemporaries, excepting Rowe' who in his productions comes the neareſt to Otway of any other dramatic author, either ancient or modern, particularly in his favourite tragedy of the Fair Penitent; where all the characters in this play are ſupported with ſo much judgment, and the language ſo extremely elegant, as is the Orphan, that by the great reſemblance there is in the ſtyle of theſe two plays, we might almoſt imagine them to be the production of one man: though it muſt be confeſſed, Rowe in his dialogues is more chaſte and praiſe worthy than Otway; for the latter is in many inſtances indecent, and deficient of moral tendency, which the former ſtrictly confined himſelf to; for example, in the Orphan, Polidore's alluſion of the bull is contemptible and abſurd in the higheſt degree; and in the little page's character there are many indecencies, eſpecially [80] for a child to ſpeak, (it being moſtly performed by one) but we muſt impute them to the licentiouſneſs of the age he wrote in. But I may as well drop the curtain, as Cibber ſays, at the ſame time, hoping to have your opinion as ſoon as convenient, on the little matter I have here ſent you, and with humble ſubmiſſion,

I remain, Dear Miſs,
Your ever devoted, and reſpectful Servant, H

STRICTURES On the favourite TRAGEDY of the FAIR PENITENT, In a LETTER to the ſame.
LETTER THE SECOND.

[81]
Dear Mifs,

BEING ever (as I told you in my laſt) devoted to your ſervice; I therefore, in compliance with your requeſt, a ſecond time, and in order to fulfil my promiſe, have ſent you a few thoughts on the Fair Penitent accordingly.—The ſubject of this play is an excellent moral; it ſhews in an eminent degree, the dangerous conſequence of parents forcing their children into marriage againſt their own inclinations; and [82] paints nature in a very conſpicuous manner. Mr. Wilkes in his general review of the ſtage, remarks on this tragedy, that there is not one character in the whole play deſerves compaſſion; yet, I muſt confeſs, I am of a different opinion: and he further obſerves, the heroine of this play has no manner of right to the above title; ‘that gentleman ſays, ‘her grief does not ſpring from compunction, but from a variety of paſſions which ſhe is prevented from gratifying:’ probably he would have the play termed "The Penitent Proſtitute," which I think is far too groſs a title, notwithſtanding ſhe yields to Lothario before her marriage with Altamont. In my poor opinion, I think her rather to be pitied, as many of her ſex, that would be ſtrictly virtuous, are liable to the ſame failing in the heat of blood, (as I pleaſe thus vulgarly to term it) and eſpecially with a man ſhe ſincerely loved. Is not Sciolto her father in the wrong, when he knows ſhe loves Lothario, to force her into marriage with another [83] man whom ſhe has not the leaſt veneration for: though her huſband is paſſionately doating of her, what is this to the purpoſe, when it is quite the reverſe with Caliſta; for if both hearts do not mutually agree in the conjugal ſtate, how is it poſſible the parties can be happy? How many, like Caliſta, have been deluded by the ſoothing tales of the male ſex, and by their proffering marriage, as Lothario did to Caliſta, and afterwards deceived them. To be ſure, Lothario is a rakiſh young gentleman, and like many more of the preſent age, when he has gained his ends, in enjoying the fair flame, he afterwards has no further regard; as Foote ſays, "When they are gratified, then they are ſatisfied."

Therefore, dear Miſs, (though my own ſex) be cautious how you liſten to their alluring enticements, for it is exceeding preearious truſting men, there being ſo many ſeducers, that your ſex cannot have too great a guard over themſelves; and they [84] have ſo many wheedling and trepanning ways to decoy poor harmleſs and unthinking maids, by telling them (as Mackheath ſays) a hundred things which they never mean to perform, things that your ſex are apt to put too much confidence in: through which means, they ſometimes render themſelves a common prey to their lewd and abandoned deſires, and then inevitable ruin conſequently enſues: and at the ſame time, they not only reflect diſhonour upon themſelves, but likewiſe bring much trouble and affliction on their aged parents, that have taken great care and diligence in bringing them up to an age of diſcretion, and in hopes of ſeeing them tread in the paths of virtue inſtead of that, they too, too often fall a ſacrifice to their ſpotleſs virginity, (like the heroine of the foregoing play) by building their hopes on ſuch a ſandy foundation as perfidious men; as ſuch they become the ſcoff and ridicule of all their former acquaintance, and are deſpiſed by thoſe who before were their moſt ardent friends, I [85] could dwell with energy much longer on this ſubject, but being rather obliged to proceed with the few remarks I have to make on the play, it will be inconſiſtent and intruding on your patience: but before I proceed, I muſt beg to be excuſed for the little I have ſaid on the above topic, as my motive for interſperſing this matter, is entirely for the love of your future welfare as ſuch, and for no other reaſon, was it wrote. But to the play. Though, does not Caliſta after her marriage with Altamont reject all Lothario's offers with the utmoſt contempt, when he wants to enjoy her a ſecond time, with thoſe words:

How didſt thou dare to think that I would live,
A ſlave to baſe deſires, and brutal pleaſures;
To be a wretched wanton for thy leiſures,
To toy, and waſte an hour of idle time with,
My ſoul diſdains thee for ſo mean a thought.

[86] In ſhort, I think her all through the play, an object fully deſerving pity. As for the poor fond and gentle Altamont, I likewiſe pity his caſe much, although the ill uſage he treats his friend Horatio with; for it is naturally to be ſuppoſed, he would put more confidence in the ſtory the object of his heart related, than that which his friend told him, and eſpecially at a time he believes her ſpotleſs. How often do we ſee a circumſtance of this kind among the lower claſs of people, a man and his wife ſhall quarrel, or what not, a friend comes and interferes in behalf of the parties: then afterwards gets moſt infamouſly abuſed for his civility. As for Sciolto the father, claims ſcarce any compaſſion; as he may partly thank himſelf for all the ſorrow and ſhame he has brought on his old age; and I ſincerely wiſh that every parent whom providence has endued with a family of children, would take warning by Sciolto's miſconduct, [87] and not force them into marriage againſt their own conſent; but as ſir Jealous Traffic, in the Buſy Body ſays,

By my example let all parents move,
And never ſtrive to croſs their children's love;
They ſhould ſubmit that care to providence above.

PASTORAL SONGS, EPITAPHS, &c.

[88]

The FORSAKEN MAID, A CANTATA; written at thirteen Years old.

RECITATIVE.
AH! whither ſhall I fly to find relief,
Is there no cure for wretchedneſs and grief,
My deareſt Thomas, he has prov'd untrue,
And what alas! muſt hapleſs Sally do.
Fool that I was to truſt perfidious man,
Whoſe falſe diſſembling love our hearts trapan.
Ah! then they leave us in a wretched ſtate,
Ye nymphs take warning e'er it be too late.
[89] AIR.
How ſeyere is my affliction.
Thus to wander in deſpair;
Gods! give ear to my direction,
Ceaſe! Ah ceaſe a maiden's care.
Did the youth know how I languiſh,
He would ſure give me relief;
Turn again and eaſe my anguiſh,
Succour my diſtreſs and grief.

*⁎* The above little piece had the honor of being preſented to the late Earl of Cheſterfield, who admired it for its author's early genius and ſimplicity, as he was pleaſed to ſay.

The LINNET.
Written at the ſame Age as the above.

AS paſſing by a wood and grove,
I heard a linnet fing;
Its ſweetly plaintive voice of love,
Proclaim'd the vernal ſpring.
[90]
His pretty accents ſeem'd to flow,
As if he knew no pain;
His downy throat he tun'd ſo ſweet,
I echoed o'er the plain.
Ah! happy warbler I replied,
Contented thus to be,
'Tis only harmony and love
Can be compared to thee,
Thus perched upon the yew, ye ſtand,
The monarch of the ſhade,
And ever ſip ambroſial ſweets,
That grows from ev'ry glade.
Did man poſſeſs but half thy bliſs,
How joyful might he be;
But man was never form'd for this,
'Tis only joys for thee.
Then farewell pretty bird I ſaid,
Purſue thy plaintive tale;
And let thy tuneful accents ſpread,
All o'er the fragrant vale.

On SPRING and SHEPHERDS.
Firſt written at fifteen Years old, and ſince revived with ſome additional Alterations.

[91]
HOW ſweet the freſhing gales of Spring,
Each bluſhing morn how gay;
The tuneful lark begins to ſing
As ſoon as dawn of day.
Then next Aurora's golden rays
Comes glancing o'er the plains,
To hail the warblers' plaintive lays,
And rouſe the ſturdy ſwains;
Who from their cots to toil repair,
Regardleſs of all ſtrife;
Unknowing and unknown to care,
Is ſure the ſhepherd's life.
He toils, he carols, all the day,
At eve then home he bends;
Charmed with birds on every ſpray,
As to his cottage tends.
[92]
His cot it teems with infants dear,
That's wholeſome, clean, and neat;
His wife, his bed, his all is there,
To make his joys compleat.
With theſe he ſits a welcome gueſt,
So happy and ſo gay,
'Till twilight points the hour of reſt,
Then they its call obey.

*⁎* The reader is deſired to obſerve, that in the alteration of the above ſome hints have been taken from Mr. Melmoth's "Deſerted Town," a little poem publiſhed ſome time ſince in the monthly magazines.

On BIRLING-HILL in KENT.
To FLAVIA. Written at fourteen Years old.

LOvely Flavia, liſt I pray,
To yon warbler on the ſpray
Hear, my fair, his matin tale,
Charming as the vernal gale.
[93]
View the fields all ſmiling round,
See the flow'rets deck the ground;
And the pretty lambkins play,
While the ewes are gone aſtray.
See the ſhepherd penſive ſit,
Making of a home-ſpun net,
With his bottle by his ſide,
And his little dog, called Tide.
How contented is his ſtate,
He envy's not the rich and great;
Free from ſorrow, free from pain,
Is the ſhepherd on the plain.
Except his Daphne proves unkind,
Then diſcontented is his mind,
'Till ſhe reſolves to prove more true,
Then all his cares ſhe does ſubdue.

The SANDMAN;
A CANTATA: Written at fourteen years old.

[94]
RECITATIVE.
I Am a poor lad, and mean is my calling,
From morn till night I am a bawling,
Thro' ſtreets, thro' lanes, and ſquares I paſs,
My treaſure all on one poor aſs;
My conſtant theme where e'er I go,
Is maids do you want ſand? Sand, ho!
AIR.
I am a poor ſandman, I care not a jot
For all the fine folks in the nation,
While I can get money to buy a full pot,
I'm the happieſt man in my ſtation.
What's riches and treaſure,
Or all the gay pleaſure,
When happineſs does not unite;
'Tis nought but a juggle,
A mere hubble bubble
Of pain and perplexity quite.
[95] RECITATIVE.
Now my ſong's done, a tale I'll tell,
Which ſure will pleaſe you all full well:
One day as paſſing thro' the ſtreet,
I, Beſs the bunter chanced to meet;
Ah! deareſt Sam! to me ſhe cry'd,
When ſhall I be thy own true bride?
Faith Beſs, quoth I, I rather tarry,
For hang me, if I think to marry.
She call'd me then ungrateful wretch,
And ſwore the devil would me fetch.
But for all this I did not care,
I drove away and left her there.
AIR,
For who in their wits, would be plagu'd with a wife?
To be teaz'd and tormented for ever;
They'll rid you as faſt as they can of your life,
And are not contented,—no, never.
[96] They're ſuch a diſaſter,
They ſtick like a plaiſter,
That's faſten'd upon a man's back;
And what is ſtill worſe,
Ah! that is the curſe,
They've ſuch a confounded clack,
Oh lack!
They've ſuch a confounded clack.
Then ſince this is the caſe of having a wiſe,
Let me ever ye gods! live a ſingle life.

For the Theatrical Obſervations.
To PHILLIS.
Written at fifteen Years old.

COME haſte thee my Phillis, I pray,
And let us repair to the grove;
Where nightingales chearful and gay,
Attune their ſweet accents of love:
So ſoft is the ſound of their ſong,
'Twill ſurely delight you my fair,
Then haſte thee dear charmer along,
And ſtrait to the grove let's repair.
[97] For ſomething I have to impart,
That labours quite hard in my breaſt;
So ardent and firm is the ſmart,
It robs me of peace and of reſt.
'Tis love that dear paſſion I ſwear,
By all that is honeſt and true;
And thou art the ſource of my care,
I ſigh and I languiſh for you.
Then come deareſt Phillis I pray,
And ceaſe all your Doriland's pain,
Ah! let him be joyful and gay,
Nor longer deplore you in vain;
But let honeſt freedom invite,
For virtue's the path I purſue;
And may happineſs ev'r unite
With thoſe that are conſtant and true.

A SONNET. By a Friend.

CUPID! god of ſoft deſire,
Aim at Stella's breaſt a dart,
Kindle there thy am'rous fire,
Such as glows round Strephon's heart.
[98]
When I ſigh, Oh! make her languiſh,
When my boſom's calm'd with peace;
Far be from her ev'ry anguiſh,
Joy ſit ſmiling on her face!
Thus each bliſs and care dividing,
Bleſt and happy with our lot;
Nought of pomp or ſtate reſiding
In our peaceful, humble cot.

SAWNEY; A Scotch AIR.
Written at fifteen Years old.

SUre Sawney is the blitheſt ſwain,
Of all around the Tweed,
He tends the ſheep upon the plain,
And tunes his oaten reed.
He calls me his dear life and care,
And his own Moggy too,
And vows by all that's good and fair,
To me he will prove true.
[99]
So Sawney is a worthy ſwain,
And I'll be Sawney's wife,
Then bid adieu to care and pain,
And ſo be bleſt for life.

The UNKIND NYMPH; Or, The SWAIN's RESOLVE.
Written Extempore.

I.
AS wand'ring in a rural ſhade,
My ſoul quite wrapt in thought;
I chanc'd to meet the lovely maid,
Who all my heart had caught.
II.
I gaz'd, I view'd her with delight,
And told my love-ſick tale;
But ah! the maid was in a fright,
And bid me quit the vale.
III.
But I more tenderly replied,
How can I leave the grove,
While here ſuch matchleſs charms reſide,
That I adore and love?
[100]IV.
But all in vain I told my tale,
In vain I ſtrove to pleaſe;
For all my ſighs could not prevail,
Nor this fair maid appeaſe.
V.
Some other ſwain there was in view,
She ſaid, ſhe lik'd the beſt,
And vow'd to him ſhe would prove true,
With him her heart ſhould reſt.
VI.
Then ſtraight I left the cruel fair,
And fled a long the plain;
For all her frowns I did not care,
Since ſhe did me diſdain.
VII.
And now ſome other nymph I'll find,
Endow'd with lovely charms;
One that will prove to me quite kind,
And take me to her arms.
VIII.
Adieu! Farewel! then fickle maid,
Adieu! for evermore;
No more I'll ſtrive to ſeek thy aid,
No more thy ſmiles implore.

The HAPPY SHEPHERD; Written at ſixteen Years old.

[101]
HOW happy a ſhepherd am I,
With Laura the pride of my heart;
I'll never more languiſh nor ſigh,
Alas! ſhe has cur'd all my ſmart:
She vows that ſhe will be my wife,
By all that is honeſt and fair;
Then I'll be her huſband for life,
And never know ſorrow nor care.
Brother ſhepherds that toil on the plain,
By me take example I pray;
Throw off all your ſorrow and pain,
And ever be chearful and gay,
Then nymphs that are modeſt and ſhy,
For once hear young Damon's advice,
The reaſon I'll tell you for why,
As happy you'll be in a trice.
Give each of your hands to your ſwain,
Then drive away faction and ſtrife,
Bid adieu to all anguiſh and pain,
And be happy th' reſt of your life;
[102] Such is Damon's advice my kind fair,
Then take it moſt freely I pray;
So fly from all ſorrow and care,
And ever be joyful and gay.

Verſes to a YOUNG LADY, on the Charms of her Voice.

THY tuneful pipe, fair H—v—d, * flows
Like Daulia's, in the ſhade;
My heart with ardent rapture glows
At thy ſweet ſerenade.
Ah! melody to thee belong,
In thee it does reſide;
The ſweet effluvia of thy tongue,
Shall ever be my pride.
Enterpe's child, fair maid, thou art;
And ſure my only care;
Thy voice it ſtrikes like Cupid's dart,
My charming, lovely fair.
[103]
Then fill thy lover's heart with bliſs
With thy enchanting ſtrain;
Ah! all I aſk of thee is this,
To eaſe me of all pain.
Then doubly tune thy plaintive tale,
And rid me of all ſtrife;
O let me on thy charms regale,
And make me bleſt for life.

A SONG, Intended to be ſung under Jeſſica's Window, in the Merchant of Venice, by Lorenzo.

I.
LIST, O liſt! my Jeſſey fair,
To Lorenzo's call I pray,
Ceaſe, Ah, ceaſe! thy lover's care,
Gentle Jeſſey come away.
II.
Then to ſome ſequeſter'd ſhade,
Let us fly my charming maid;
[104] There with honeſty enjoy
Such ſweet bliſs as ne'er can cloy;
Then my fair no longer ſtay,
Gentle Jeſſey haſte away.

Corydon's Complaint to Lucinda.
Written at fiſteen Years old.

WHY Lucinda will you ſtray,
From your ever conſtant ſwain,
Who with anguiſh all the day,
Sits repining on the plain.
Turn fair maid and view me here,
Penſive ſitting on the ground;
Drooping, dying with deſpair,
Gazing on the fields around.
When I view the paſtur'd mead,
There the pretty lambkins play;
Shepherds tune their oaten reed,
And each bird his plaintive lay.
[105]
But what to Coroydon are theſe,
When Lucinda is not near;
Nought my ſight can ever pleaſe,
Nor ſweet ſounds ſhall charm mine ear.
Then liſten fair-one to my grief,
Take compaſſion on your ſwain,
View him pleading for relief,
Ceaſe for ever all his pain.

LIONEL to CLARISSA.
Written at fourteen Years old.

SWeet Clariſſa of the green,
Lovely as the Cyprian queen,
Ever blooming, young, and gay,
Charming as the fragrant May.
Young Lionel's conſtant care
Thou art ſure my charming fair;
All his joys in thee rebound,
All his bliſs in thee is found.
[106]
Then to church let us be gone,
There unite both hearts in one;
So Clariſſa do not ſtay,
But to church let's haſte away.

A SONNET.
Written at fifteen Years old.

LIttle Cupid! ſtrike a dart
Stedfaſt at fair Daphne's heart;
Make her glow with found deſire,
Fill her ſoul with am'rous fire.
Charm her with thy ſoft perſuaſion,
Make her melt at Damon's name;
Give, Oh! give one kind occaſion,
To appeaſe my ardent flame.
Strive to make us bleſt for ever,
In a peaceful, humble ſtate;
Let ambition move us never,
Which abounds the rich and great.
[107]
Give us only decent ſubſtance,
With a little harmleſs cot;
There to live without reluctance:
May this ever be our lot.

DAMON and LAURA.
A Dialogue.

DAMON.
AH! deareſt Laura eaſe my pain,
Ceaſe your Damon's anguiſh;
Let me no longer ſue in vain,
Nor long'r let me languiſh.
LAURA.
Yes Damon I will eaſe your pain,
Since I do cauſe your ſmart;
Then come your ways my gentle ſwain
For here's my hand and heart.
DAMON.
[108]
Then ſtraight to church let us repair,
And join both hearts in one,
And bid adieu to ſtrife and care,
So ſhield our joys alone.
BOTH.
Then we the happieſt pair will be,
That e'er our ſtate poſſeſt;
Happier far than monarchs they,
Let them be e'er ſo bleſt.

To DELIA.

MY muſe aſpire me to impart
In humble ardent ſtrain,
To tell the anguiſh of my heart
To her that caus'd my pain.
Delia is the lovely maid,
Alas! thou charming fair,
Behold fond Damon ſeeks thy aid
To eaſe his pain and care.
[109]
For thou alone can give relief,
Or anguiſh moſt ſevere;
Thy rapt'rous charms are all my grief,
Until you prove ſincere.

A Soliloquy on a Spring Morning.

HOW ſweet the air! how fair each ſcene!
How full of joy each field;
What balmy odours breathe around,
What lays the warblers yield.
With what enchantment I review
Aurora's early ray,
That calls up Nature's offspring all,
To hail the fragrant May.
Tranſported o'er the mead I walk,
Or croſs the verdant lawn,
Purſue the winding ſtreamlet's courſe,
And mark the vernal dawn.
[110]
Devote my ſong to him on high,
From whom thoſe beauties ſpring,
And with extatic raptures cry,
My God is Nature's King!

STREPHON and PHOEBE.
A Cantata, intended ſor the public Gardens.

Enter Stephon and Phoebe with Wands in their Hands.
STREPHON.
RECITATIVE.
HAIL lovely Phoebe! charming maid!
Why fly me thus,
(ſhe avoids him)
Ah!
why ſo afraid?
Let me enjoy thy youthful charms,
And claſp thee ever in theſe arms.
Holding out his arms to her.
PHOEBE.
AIR.
Away thou falſe ſwain,
No longer in vain,
[111] Thus teaze and perplex me I pray;
For all this cooing,
And all this wooing,
Shall never induce me to ſtay.
For all, &c.
STREPHON.
AIR.
Alas! cruel maid,
My anguiſh aſſuage,
Nor keep me in pain and deſpair;
Did you know my ſmart,
You'd give your heart,
Nor ſtrive thus to ritle my care.
Did you, &c.
PHOEBE.
RECITATIVE.
Begone falſe youth, fly hence and leave me,
You only court for to deceive me;
But thus on me you'll never prevail,
For I'll ne'er liſt'n to thy flatt'ring tale.
STREPHON.
[112]
AIR.
On honor fair maid,
My 'tention are laid,
For I mean not to deceive ye,
So prithee don't ſtand,
For here is my hand,
And heart both willing to wed ye.
So prithee, &c.
PHOEBE:
AIR.
Since you make proffer,
Of ſuch an offer,
Here is my hand and heart likewiſe,
For now I believe,
You will not deceive,
And virtue and honor I prize.
For now, &c.
[113]
DUET.
Then we'll to church, and join both hearts,
And bid adieu to former care;
So baniſh from our minds all ſmarts,
And ever be the happy pair.
Thence we'll, &c.
Chorus of ſhepherds and ſhepherdeſſes,
May health and wealth both crown your wiſhes,
When the nuptial knot is tied;
May peace and plenty,—endleſs riches,
Ever in your reach reſide.
DUET II.
May health and both crown our wiſhes,
When the nuptial knot is ty'd;
May peace and plenty,—endleſs riches,
Ever in our reach reſide.
CHORUS.
May health, &c.

DELIA.
A Cantata; written at fifteen Years old.

[114]
Scene, a Grove; (Delia ſitting penſive on a Bench.
RECITATIVE.
YE myrtle groves and ſhady bowers,
Sequeſter'd vales and vernal flowers,
What bliſs ſhould I receive for thee,
Couldſt thou reſtore but eaſe to me.
(Soft muſic plays.
AIR.
Cupid, god of ſoft deſire,
Take a hapleſs maiden's part,
Some relief to me inſpire,
To ſubdue my conſtant heart.
(Riſes and comes forward.)
RECITATIVE.
Cruel tyrant of my breaſt,
Sole deſtroyer of my reſt,
Turn, Ah turn! and eaſe my pain,
Nor let thy Delia ſue in vain.
[115] AIR.
On falſe man there's no depending,
For their vows are ſoon forgot;
Then what torments never ending,
Is the gen'rous maiden's lot.
Yet Damon urge not may requeſt,
Ceaſe at once my anxious pain;
Ah! make thy faithful Delia bleſt,
Take her to thy arms again.

AMOROUS BLISS.
Or, the Charms of Miſs Polly C**mb**d, of Great Ruſſel-ſtreet, Covent-Garden.

The following flight of poetry, was wrote at the particular requeſt of a young gentleman, whoſe amours are well known with the above nymph.

Omnia Vincit Amor.

OF all the girls that are ſo ſmart,
There's none to me like Polly;
She is the comfort of my heart,
The ſweets of am'rous folly.
[116]
Yet my muſe forbear a-while,
Nor call it am'rous folly;
For I ne'er can nor will beguile
The charms of pretty Polly.
Her milk-white breaſts and ſparkling eyes,
Did firſt inflame my mind;
And her ambroſial charms that lies,
So beauteous and ſo kind.
Amorous bliſs is our delight,
In Venus ſportive bower;
Sequeſter'd there we lay all night,
And pluck the vernal flower,

ELEGY, Written at Colcheſter.
Addreſſed to Miſs K—n.

I.
I Aſked the muſe that rules the ſounding lyre,
To wreathe my temples with one ſprig of bays;
[117] Some lofty ſubject to my ſoul inſpire,
Some lofty ſubject in heroic lays.
II.
But Venus came, the ſoft enchanting fair,
I ſaw her glancing from her native ſky;
Looſe flow'd her ſhining treſſes in the air,
And love's own luſtre trembled from her eye.
III.
She bade me chuſe a leſs ambitious ſtrain,
And ſhew'd the image of a ſmiling maid;
Let Delia's praiſes echo to the plain,
To ev'ry murm'ring ſtream and ev'ry ſhade.
IV.
O ruthleſs goddeſs, am I doom'd to bow
Again to love's ſoft empire, and to thee?
Wilt thou no reſpite to my pangs allow,
No deſtin'd moment muſt this heart be free?
V.
Yet not for this I paſt the ſounding main,
Yet not for this I ſought a diſtant ſhore;
Thy captive then, exulting, leſt his chain,
And ſcorn'd that powr' which men and gods adore.
[118]VI.
But well thou haſt aveng'd thy ſlighted pride,
I ſeel thee now reſiſtleſs in my veins,
In vain would ſcience ſoothe, and wiſdom hide
Thy triumphs, goddeſs, and thy ſuppliant's pains.
VII.
Thee, Delia, thee, by ev'ry murm'ring ſtream,
Or thicket rude, unpreſt by human feet,
I ſung unheeded to the pale moon's gleam,
Thee, Delia, thee, the echoing gales repeat.
VIII.
Come then too fatal, and too lovely fair!
Come ſeek theſe groves, and eaſe a wretch's toil;
One look from thee can mitigate deſpair,
And bid all nature and thy lover ſmile.
IX.
Nor thou deſpiſe the ſhepherd's artleſs tale,
He leads fair Truth and Innocence along,
Becauſe ſhe ſings in ſome ſequeſter'd vale,
Are there no charms in Philomela's ſong?
[119]X.
O might thy lover hope to win thy praiſe,
His ſoul ſhould kindle with a nobler flame,
This hand ſhould ſeize the blood-beſprinkl'd bays,
Which conqueſt ſnatches from the ſhrines of ſame.
XI.
Place me where raging ſlaughter's crimſon wheels,
O'er gaſping ranks of bleeding warriors roar;
And if my ſoul one thought of danger feels,
O never, Delia, may I ſee thee more.
XII.
Nor deem, becauſe I loiter in the ſhade,
I bear a breaſt unequal in the deed;
I hear the blaſts of terror undiſmay'd,
Tho' pleas'd I liſten to the rural reed.
XIII.
For I was nurs'd in Virtue's rigid lore.
Nor will the goddeſs diſavow my claim;
She bade my ſteps the arduous path explore
Where ſacred Honor points the way to fame.
[120]XIV.
But now far other cares diſtract my ſoul,
Joyleſs the laurel wreaths of fame I ſee,
And vain her animating thunders roll,
If with her blaſts ſhe mix no notes of thee.
XV.
Then liſten, Delia, to a ſwain undone,
Ah! hear a ſlave condemn'd thy chains to wear;
So may thy days in peace glide gently on,
Unmixt with grief, unſullied with a tear.
XVI.
For ah! in vain thy gentle tear would flow,
To ſee thy lover preſs an early tomb;
Then let thy pity mitigate his woe,
'Ere ſickneſs wither, and deſpair conſume.
XVII.
Wretch that I am! ah! rather let me bind
Hope's dear deluſive chaplet to my brows,
Let fancy paint thee to my wonnded mind,
All fweetly ſmiling on thy lover's vows.
XVIII.
O how I long by arching ſhades o'erhung,
Where breezes ſport, and fountains murmer bland,
To hear the tuneful accents of thy tongue,
To preſs the glowing ſoftneſs of thy hand.
[121]XIX.
O, how I long to lead thee to the bowers,
Where Flora ſcatters all her thouſand dies,
To braid thy gloſſy hair with dewy flowers,
And catch the mild effulgence of thy eyes.
XX.
Thus with ideal bliſs I fondly try
Beneath the woodbine ſhade to ſoothe my pains,
But ah! too ſoon the lovely phantoms fly,
And ſtern reality alone remains.
XXI.
She burſts with thunders arm'd upon my dreams;
She tears me ſtruggling from the woodbine ſhade;
She points to other groves, and other ſtreams,
But, ah! ſhe points me to no Heav'nly maid.
XXII.
I come the mournful victim of deſpair,
Adieu, my Delia, and my hopes of reſt!
So flies the wounded deer the hunter's ſnare,
Yet bears the arrow in his bleeding breaſt.

Verſes to a YOUNG LADY.

[122]
I.
WHILE others reſt in balmy ſleep,
And baniſh ev'ry care;
Into my mind thy beauties creep,
My ſweet angelic fair.
II.
Then ſtraight they drive each languid joy,
There wound each quiet thought;
My heart's the ſeat of beauty's boy,
With all his armour fraught.
III.
Believe me, Betſy, lovely fair,
Believe thy captive ſwain;
Thy charms alone engroſs my care,
Alone can give me pain.
IV.
When round my neck with winning grace,
Thy ſnowy arms are thrown;
By Heav'n the dear, the kind embrace,
Bears all my reaſon down.
[123]V.
Gods! when from thy vermilion lips,
Where all the graces meet;
Reclin'd upon thy breaſt I ſip
Ambroſial Heav'nly ſweets.
VI.
What fancy can conceive the bliſs,
What lauguage can expreſs;
Th' extatic joy, the rapt'rous bliſs,
The glowing warm careſs.

Verſes addreſſed to Mrs. GREVILLE, for the unbounded pleaſure ſhe gave the Author, on ſeeing her in the Iriſh Widow, and other occaſions.
Written Extempore.

WHEN firſt I view'd thy lov'ly form, fair lady,
It was in the part of Widow Brady,
[124] Where, I confeſs, you ſtruck me with ſurprize,
You caught my heart, and raviſh'd both my eyes.
Ah! cruel Greville! thus to wound a youth,
Whoſe heart for you has hoarded up its truth;
Then pray reſtore his injur'd ſight again,
Nor let him thus bemoan his loſs in vain.
O! did you know the anguiſh of his heart,
Some unfeign'd kindneſs you would ſure impart;
Nor let a tender ſoul thus humbly ſue,
Ah! deareſt madam! for the charms of you.
O! give your ſmiles, and ever eaſe the pain
Of your ſubmiſſive, and expiring ſwain.
Adieu.

Verſes received from a YOUNG LADY for preſenting her with Bell's Edition of Shakeſpeare.

[125]

To Mr. HAWKINS.

GIVE me but Waller's pen, his eaſe of rhyme,
Or elſe, aſſiſt me, all ye beauteous nine;
For much I wiſh, however plain 'tis dreſs'd,
My thoughts in ſimple elegance expreſs'd;
Truth needs no diſguiſe, no outward ſhew,
'Tis from the heart that ſentiment muſt flow.
All this you know, and better can explain,
But female-like, you ſee I muſt be vain.
I'll ſay no more; you will not criticiſe;
Your heart is honeſt, and your head is wiſe;
And gen'rous friendſhip can my faults excuſe,
Oft as you will the following lines peruſe;
Let them my grateful thanks of tribute pay,
For ſenſe and ſentiments convey'd in play
And for morality—that better part,
May ev,ry ſentence ſearch into my heart,
[126] That while I read, I may the better grow,
And thank that friend who did'ſt this gift beſtow.

An Epiſtle addreſſed to Miſs W***n, in Anſwer to the above.
EPISTLE.

YE facred nine, with eaſe attune my lays,
Or, wreathe my temples with one ſprig of bays,
To anſwer W***n's ſweetly plaintive ſtrain,
That flows like Daulia's * pipe upon the plain;
With ev'ry ſenſe true gratitude is join'd,
In all the taſte of elegance refin'd.
Ah! could my feeble pen but write like thee,
What joy, what rapture, would then glow in me;
[127] But feeble as it is,—do pray excuſe,
And take compaſſion on my tender muſe,
For ſhe is young and ſtubborn you muſt know,
And no harmonious ſounds from her will flow.
Accept then, madam, theſe unpoliſh'd lays,
That's wrote to celebrate your verſes' praiſe;
But ah! they claim much better praiſe than mine;
The words are flowing, and the language fine.
I'll ſay no more, for fear you ſhould complain,
And think my ſimple praiſes ſomewhat vain,
Tho' flattery's a thing, I muſt deteſt,
Plain dealing, madam, ſurely is the beſt;
And ſuch by experience, I've found to bear
The greateſt ſway amongſt the prudent fair;
Tho' flattery to ſome gives much delight,
But to the prudent, 'tis diſguſting quite;
[128] And ſure to you it muſt obnoxious be,
Or to any endu'd with ſenſe like thee,
For thou haſt prudence, learning, and good ſkill,
Senfe moſt refin'd, and wit at your own will,
Where e'er you go, by ev'ry one careſs'd,
For gaudy pomp ne'er harbours in your breaſt,
Nought but good-nature, gentility, and eaſe,
In ſhort, your company is ſure to pleaſe;
Whether thou art amongſt the rich and great,
Or whether 'mongſt thoſe of an humbler ſtate,
In theſe extremes, thou juſtly art admir'd,
But ah! my ſeeble muſe at length grows tir'd;
For ſhe, a ſluggiſh jade, with all her arts,
Can never paint, nor celebrate thy parts;
Thy virtues are extravagantly great,
Beyond a pen, like mine, for to relate;
[129] And of the gift I didſt on thee beſtow
May in your breaſt each moral ſentence glow,
And while you read, may you the wiſer grow.
Thus I take leave, and let the curtain drop,
My muſe has left me, ſo of courſe muſt ſtop.

A Prologue, intended to be ſpoken on the Author's firſt appearance on the Stage, in the Character of George Barnwell.

BEfore this awful court, to-night appears,
A youth of tragic parts, yet full of fears;
Baſhful and young, he ventures on the ſtage,
Hoping your kind attention to engage;
Barnwell's the theme, wherein he means to ſhew
That youth's misfortunes, and exceſſive woe;
[130] By which he hopes to draw a tender tear
From you kind auditors that's fitting here;
But ah! he fears that ſome ſtern wag will ſay,
"That ſtripling ſure can never Barnwell play;
"He has not courage, wants a bolder face
"To act young Barnwell with a decent grace."
But ſoft, (pauſes) I think he told me, if I'm right,
He dreamt a dream moſt wonderful laſt night;
He thought that he was acting on the ſtage,
And in an inſtant burſt into a rage;
On hearing of a critic in the pit,
Exclaim againſt him with his nauſeous wit;
But preſently he thought he was appeas'd,
By gen'rous friendſhip, which to him increas'd;
'Twas Lady Dorothea that ſtood his friend
And with this critic did herſelf contend;
[131] For ſhe quite vex'd, he thought, roſe up at laſt,
And cry'd, "Sir Critic, you condemn too faſt;
"For know that I'm a judge, and ſure can tell,
"That he's the very thing for young Barnwell;
"Behold his figure, action, voice and mien,
"God! was there ever ſuch a Barnwell ſeen;
"By Heavens for the lad I'm all on fire,
"For his ſucceſs my heart glows with defire;
"Then t' oblige me, Critic, I prithee ſtop,
"And o'er your cenſures let the curtain drop."
On theſe imagin'd things the youth relies,
And your indulgence in this enterprize;
And he his utmoſt efforts means to try,
For reaſons many,—and I'll tell you why,
Firſt, then, your praiſes, which he hopes t' obtain;
Secondly for honor, if he's not too vain;
And laſtly, for pleaſure, and ſome little gain.
[132] Thus I conclude, for I no more muſt ſay,
(Pulling out his watch)
It is now quite time to begin the play,
(Warning bell rings.)
And hark! the prompter calls I muſt away.

On Mrs. YATES firſt appearance in the character of Mandane in Cyrus.
Written at twelve Years of Age.

YE nine harmonious maids attune my lyre,
To paint the poet's and the player's fire;
In Yates, the excellence of both we view,
Juſt to herſelf, and to her author true.
Mandane is the theme, ah! that's the part!
Wherein ſhe reigns the monarch of the heart;
[133] Her graceful action, piercing eyes, and voice,
Alas! how happy was the author's choice,
To chuſe ſuch ſterling merit for his queen,
And paint delight in ev'ry ardent ſcene,
Such excellence combin'd ne'er 'fore was ſeen.

Oh ſeeing Mr. and Mrs. BARRY, in the Characters of Othello and Deſdemona.

THOU great in action in a juſt degree,
Othello, Barry, Shakeſpeare meant for thee;
For thee alone he wiſely drew the part,
To charm the ſoul, and melt the frozen heart.
In lovely Deſdemona's tender ſtrain,
Thy conſort there does equal honor claim;
[134] She ſhines tranſcendently through all the part,
The throng ſhe charms, and rends the critic's heart;
O! may ſuch merit ever grace the ſtage,
And reſt diſtinguiſh'd in its latter age.

Verſes on the Death of Mr. MOSSOP, the celebrated Tragedian.

MOSSOP farewell, my honeſt friend adieu!
No more is heard the plaintive voice of you,
But all is huſh'd, the muſes 'gins to weep,
But for a time thou'rt only gone to ſleep;
'Till call'd upon by the ſupreme above,
(That God of mercy and eternal love;)
Ah! then thy awful trial thou muſt take,
And of thy ſins a juſt confeſſion make;
[135] Then wilt thou know thy everlaſting fate,
(Whether a happy, or a wretched ſtate)
But O! my friend! my conſtant wiſh is this,
"That thou may ever find eternal bliſs."

An EPIGRAM on the Character of Juno, in the Burletta of the Golden Pippin.
Written Extempore.

WHEN Hara took his pen to write,
The part of Juno with his might,
He ſure had C-tl-y in his eye;
For nature is in all the part,
Deck'd out with matchleſs ſkill and art,
Tho' in burleſqued poetry.
True it is the bard was never
Half ſo nat'ral nor ſo clever,
If he the part for C-tl-y drew;
For he with judgment has prefix'd
Her artful and her vulgar tricks,
And form'd her wond'rous juſt and true.

A Stanza in imitation of Hudibras, on ſeeing a pretended witty Fellow ſtung by a Lady for his abuſe while ſhe was reading a Play Bill.

[136]
AN elf ſtriving to ſhew his wit,
Was by a lady ſorely bit;
And all becauſe it was her will
To read and gaze at the play bill.

On ſeeing a Young Lady that was prodigiouſly vain and affected with herſelf.

AH! why ſo vain! tho' blooming in thy ſpring,
—thou ſalfe ador'd, and wretched thing;
Old age will come, diſeaſe may come before,
At twenty * you're as mortal as at threeſcore.

An Epitaph on a late Attorney of the Middle Temple.

[137]
HERE lies John Sc [...]tt,
As great a ſot,
As moſt when he was living,
And what is worſe,
Ah! that's the curſe,
He got his bread by thieving.
He us'd to write
With all his might,
To pocket people's treaſure;
He was ſo ſad,
So mortal bad,
His crimes was out of meaſure.

ANOTHER.
On a poor Poet.

IF you would know it,
Here lies a poor poet.
[138] Which in the regions us'd to dwell,
But now, alas!
'Tis come to paſs,
He's fell from Heaven down to Hell.
Yet he may be
From torment free,
Tho' that's a thing I really doubt;
For he, poor wit,
His brain had ſplit,
In finding of the devil out.

A REBUS.

MY anxious ſoul once lov'd a maid,
I thought moſt charming fair;
Tho' ſhe, alas! ne'er gave me aid,
But urg'd my pain and care.
Ah! cruel girl, thy name I'll tell,
In juſtice to my ſmart;
Which thou haſt ever caus'd (full well)
From thy ungen'rous heart.
[139]
Half of an herb begins her name,
Eſteem'd of perfect uſe;
Ev'ry one in phyſical fame,
It's virtues can produce.
Two ſixths of an inſtructing book,
When its judicious wrote;
And if in which you chance to look,
A ſcience you may quote.
Three fifths of a ſharp piercing wind,
A human being take;
Add all theſe together you'll find,
The fair-one's name 'twill make.

The SOLUTION.
By a Friend.

BETONY's a plant this country produces,
And greatly eſteem'd for its phyſical uſes.
[140] When books are compleat, they're called a ſyſtem;
If I meet with any, I ſeldom miſs them.
The North-wind is moſt cutting, ſharp, and keen,
The human being, Man, is plainly ſeen.
So it's BETSY NORMAN, 'thout any doubt,
You have ſo much anxiety about.
No, Mr. HAW [...]INS, let a friend adviſe,
(If ſhe your care and love doth ſtill diſe)
Regard her as little as ſhe does you,
And query, Sir, if that won't bring her to.

An ACROSTIC.

WAlking in a meadow one ſummer's day,
I a charming young damſel met by the way,
Let me ſalute ye, I cry'd, pretty maid,
Let me alone, and be quiet, ſhe ſaid,
I gaz'd, I look'd, and then to her reply'd
And muſt I, lovely fair-one, be deny'd;
Me will not let you, ſo be ſtill ſhe cry'd.
[141] However at laſt I obtain'd my my wiſh,
And embrac'd this damſel with a kiſs,
With mutual kindneſs and rapturous bliſs.
Kind prov'd this maid, ſhe was ſoft as the dove;
Indeed too as fair as th' mother of love;
No tongue can expreſs the bliſs I poſſeſt,
So charming it was, I ne'er was ſo bleſt.
FINIS. 13
Notes
*
HAMLET, Act I, Scene 2.
*
I hope I ſhall find this gentleman in future to merit this little encomium I have inſcribed to him and I wiſh I could with critical juſtice declare it at preſent.
The author hopes Mr Dodd will not be piqued at this hint.
I ſhould have been more favourable with this actor, but according to the rules of impartial criticiſm, he merits that cenſure I have thus frankly put upon him; therefore, if I offend, (as I preſume I ſhall) I humbly crave his pardon.
*
I am ſorry to pay this lady ſo bad a compliment, but in juſtice to her character, I thought proper to make this remark.
Mr. Roſs being paſſionately fond of what is here alluded to, but rather to exceſs, which I am apt to think is the cauſe of that mountain of fleſh he is ſo much encumbered with.
7
‡‡‡ I ſhould have omitted Mr Dyer, and Mr Love formerly of Drury-lane theatre, in my account; but my motive is to acquaint the reader of all the principal performers, deceaſed or living, during the time I at firſt propoſed.
*
The reader is to obſerve, that thoſe terms Sock and Buſkin, (ſo often made uſe of in this work) denote Comedy and Tragedy, as Sock for Comedy, and Buſkin for Tragedy; theatrical phraſes.
*
The name of the lady.
*
A term for a Nightingale.
O'Hara.
*
Alluding to ſhe age of the lady.
13
*⁎* If any of the Songs, Cantatas, &c. contained in this Work, ſhould be thought worthy the attention of ſome lady or gentleman, deſirous of ſetting them to muſic, for the entertainment of any public garden, &c. the author cordially devotes them to their ſervice.
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Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4964 Miscellanies in prose and verse Containing candid and impartial observations on the principal performers belonging to the two Theatres Royal from January 1773 to May 1775 Likewise strictures on tw. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-61ED-C