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confufion, occafioned, as they fuppofe, by the feverity of Henry. The two brothers, who feel the highest refpect for Winnington, are deeply affected by his misfortunes. Philip difpatches a meffenger to London, without ftating the purpose, but it is thought for the relief of Winnington. Henry, having reafon to believe that he is confidered as the author of Winnington's distress, is afraid that any direct propofal to relieve him would be rejected with indignation; he therefore determines to pretend that he is struck with admiration of a picture belonging to Rebate, lately a clerk in the houfe of Winnington, and who has retired to the village, in order to acquire a taste for rural life. Henry pronounces this picture a genuine Pouffin, offering 3000l. for it, knowing that Rebate will readily give the whole fum to his late mafter the moment he hears of his diftreffes. This expedient fucceeds, and Rebate haftens to London, to employ all his wealth in removing Winnington's embarraffments. But it appears that Philip Evelyn had previously fent orders to London for that purpofe. Philip had attentively watched the conduct of Dalton, and lodged a ftatement of all his mal-practices as a Magiftrate in the hands of the Chief Juftice. Henry, with a piftol in his hand, extorts a confeffion of Dalton's villanies, firft from his clerk Jemmy, and afterwards from Dalton himself. When Winnington is re-inftated in his affairs, a meeting takes place in his house; and, as it is manifeft that Dalton, and not Henry, was the cause of Winnington's diftrefs, the family are reconciled to him; and, as Philip generously facrifices his hopes of Harriet's hand in favour of his brother, the piece concludes with the entire exposure of Dalton's perfidy, and a prospect of general happiness.

The ferious bufinefs is relieved by three comic characters-Rebate, an old London clerk, who is fettled in the country, and is miferable; Jemmy, a prig of an attorney's clerk; and Gaby Dolt, a Yorkshire footman, who has been educated at a Yorkshire Latin fchool; and who, without either will or ability to do any thing, is always boafting of his capital education.

In the first act Mrs. Mountain fung a fong, which was loudly and defervedly encored. The conjugal and paternal feelings of Winnington were impref

fively pourtrayed by Murray. Fawcett and Charles Kemble were zealous in the fupport of the piece; and Emery went through his character (which, in point of fimplicity, is much like that of Lump in The Review) in a very spirited manner. Indeed the whole of the performers exerted themselves to the utmost.

During the courfe of the reprefentation, however, much diflike at times appeared; and after the Epilogue (which was fpoken by Suett and Emery, and was very la, la !), when Mr. Fawcett came forward to announce it for a fecond performance, the clamour was loud, reiterated, and decifive; and he was compelled to withdraw without being heard to announce it.

The Comedy was certainly very inferior in point of merit to the former productions of Mr. Morton, who is well understood to have been the Author.

24. A new Mufical Farce, called "THE SIXTY-THIRD LETTER" (written by a Mr. Oulton), was brought out at the Haymarket Theatre. The following are the perfons of the drama : Sir Wilful Pofitive Mr. WADDY. Sydney Mr. DECAMP. Dulcet Mr. FAWCETT. Patrick Casey Mr. JOHNSTONE. Sharp Mr.CHIPPENDALE. Mifs Metaphor Lydia

Patty

Mrs. DAVENPORT. Mrs. MOUNTAIN. Mrs. HARLOWE.

Mifs Metaphor is an old maid, whofe head is turned with novel writing. The volume which at present occupies her thoughts is continued in a series of letters, of which the lofes The SixtyThird; her brother, Sir Wilful Poli tive, having found the letter, throws it out of the window; and Patrick Cafey, a difcarded Irish fervant of theirs, picks it up. It contains a plan of an elopement, in which the lover is requefted, by his mistress, to have himfelf introduced into the house in a hamper, as a prefent of wine from a friend. Patrick's vanity immediately. conftrues the incident into a real pro pofal from his old lady, Mifs Metaphor, and he immediately proceeds to obey the inftructions. The letter is in the mean time fought in vain, and at length the hamper arrives. It is introduced under all the circumftances prefcribed; and Mifs Metaphor, struck

with

with the fidelity of the representation, opens the hamper, and exclaims, that the scene is a rehearsal of her fixty third Letter. Patrick rifes from his conceal ment, and claims the reward of his addrefs; but Mifs Metaphor undeceives him, and bestows upon him the hand of Patty, a lively waiting-maid, whom he meant to jilt for the fake of the miftrefs. This plot is contrafted with another, of which Lydia, the ward of Sir Wilful Pofitive, and Sydney, her lover, constitute the materials, but it is far inferior in management and effect. The old man contributes to his own deception. Sydney paffes with him. for the perfon whofe addresses he wished to favour, and the two lovers clope together with his confent.

The character of Dulcet is fomewhat unhacknied; he is reprefented as a Footman who cannot contain himself at the found of a street-organ, and who is perpetually finging ballads. While he is handing a glass of wine an organ strikes up, when he drops the bottle and glaffes and begins dancing. Every question put by his mafter he anfwers by repeating the title of fome balladfor inftance, when Sir Wilful afks who brought a letter, he is looking over his ballads, and reads, "The Waggoner." "When ?"-" In the dead of the night," &c. &c. He has one good fong, in which he enumerates the names of a variety of ballads; and when he mentioned "God fave the King," "Britons ftrike home," and "Rule Britannia," the public fentiment of loyalty manifefted itself in repeated burits of applaufe.

The acting throughout was excellent; indeed, Fawcett and Johnstone must have much to complain of in an author, if they are not able to entertain the andience.

The mufic is by Dr. Arnold, and does him credit; feveral of the airs were deservedly encored.

The piece met with a very favour. able reception, and was given ont again with general approbation. As a fum. mer audience is not very faftidious, it will, no doubt, have a run.

ADDRESS,

Written by Mr. KEMBLE, And fpoken by Mr. EGERTON, lately, at the Theatre in Stockton.

Now that we're all at peace, alive and well. [well Let's, with Othello, cry, "Oh! now fareVOL. XLII. JULY 1802.

the car ;

wan,

now pray ?"

The feed, the trump, the banner, and [rious war! Pride, pomp, and circumftance of gloYe pin-head-hearted heroes, pale and [gone!" Know now, the foldier's cccupation's "Are you in earneft, faith and troth, [to fay, Cries honeft Teague➡" and did you mean That Peace was com'd? Oh! Heav'n blefs your Honour, [Connor ! This won't be news, perhaps, to Judy Oh Judy! Oh, my Soul! when I com plain [again." Of Judy's love, Chay-horfe is come "Hoot, mon," cries Sandy, "Chaos is the word;

[furd! Your pronunciation, child, is quite ab Ye ken we fpeak pure English i the North; [broath.'1 Enquire for Sandy Steward, of Ar"Arbroath!" a wounded Soldier cries "Arbroath !"

[worth, Unwilling, yet he feem'd to speak his While confcious honour gave a thousand charms, [arms !Though he had loft one leg and both his "I'm of Arbroath :" he faid," in Egypt's field [to yield

We fought, and forc'd th' Invincibles Proud day for Scotia, when her fons were reckon'd [fecond: The glorious Scotchmen of the FortyTo bagpipe tune the Frenchmen danc'd ́a reel, [weel:

Each Highlander his broad-sword us'd full And all my limbs I'd lofe, ere any say, Ah! Wolly, Lad, ye were na there that day!" [English Tar, "Why, that's well faid," replies an "And, faith, I've had my thare of this here war: [SON, HOWE; I've fought with JARVIS, DUNCAN,NELTo prate of which what argufies it now? Peace is proclaim'd, and we have done with blows, [my nofe Though I have loft one arm, and half What then, there's Chellea, aye, and Greenwich too, [and Blue, Where they lay up fuch damag'd Red Rather than France should triumph on the Main,

Maim'd as I am, I'd go to fea again! Whilft British failors love their native

land, [they may be dd." France, Spain, and Holland -Phaw, "Now, blefh my hou!!" Itaac the Broker cries; [Lurely rife! "If there's a Peace-the Stocks will I must go borrow all the cath I lent, And let out yesterday at chent per chent ! H

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blown,

I'll run on 'Change-the news is hardly
[known!
I'll buy up Stock, before it's better
There it shall lie and breed-and guineas
plenty ;
[twenty."
The Treaty figned, of one I will make
"Yes, Commerce," cries the Merchant,
"once again
[Main ;
Shall woo the winds, and court the fickle
See France and Britain link'd in fecial
ties,
[kies !
See laurel'd Peace, defcending from the
Definitive, upon her breast, I read ;
On her bright zone, England and France
[finile,
Our guardian angels, leading Commerce,
The wealth, the strength, the bulwark of
[ftrand,
Lo happy millions, anxious on the
Impatient wait, to fee the Goddess land:
Hark! Mufic fills the paufe of loud
huzzas,
[praife ;
The King receives a loyal people's
"Still," he exclaims, buoy'd up on
[the King."
Fancy's wing,
"I hear them grateful fhout-God lave

agreed;

our Ifle :

THE DILLETANTI THEATRE.

PROLOGUE
TO THE

ENTERTAINMENTS OF APRIL 5

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1802. Spoken by the Hon. WILLIAM LAMBE.

IN spite of prints, which every morn produce

More than their ufual quantum of abufe;
In spite of all they feign to prop their
caufe,

Pretended morals, and miftated laws,
Again we meet you here-again rejoice,
That beauty fcorns envenom'd Scandal's
voice,

That Cenfure cannot Innocence affright,
And Fashion firmly dares affert her right.
To ope a safer field for modeft wit,
Which fears the judgment of a fterner
Pit;

Talents and Tafte to exercife and train,
And to indulge at least a harmless vein,
And, by variety, relief to bring

To the long fameness of a London
fpring-

This was our fole, our unambitious aim,
Our hope your fufferance and your
fmiles our fame.

And does not Folly yet her clamour ceafe?
And is not Çalumny abash'd to peace?

Say! are we ftill expected to invade
The charter'd rights of the dramatie
Erage,

trade?

Does Drury's dome behold, with jealous
The rival grandeur of our spacious stage?.
Does Covent Garden fromour hands await,
In fear and woe, the downfall of her state ?
And do their heroes, who are fuffer'd still,
Shrink trembling from cur talents, prac-
tice, skill,
{done,
And find themselves in every walk out-
In tragic mifery, and in comic fun?
E'en we unhurt repeat this fatire here,
The irony's too plain to be fevere.
But fome there are, who caft an angry
[France-
glance,
Because we fometimes borrow fcenes from
What fear we plays, who fear'd not war's
alarms,
[arms?
And fly their authors, who repell'd their
Shall England, whofe late annals proudly
show

Her flag triumphant o'er the finking foe-
Shall England now receive the Conque-
ror's yoke,

Won by a farce, and vanquish'd by a joke?
No-not tho' all their arts our Ifle in .
vade,

The dreaded dangers of pacific trade;
Not the their feets import, with fre-
quent fails,
[bales;
Tubs of feduction, and crim. con. in
Tho' claret hogtheads every vice contain,
And atheism's pack'd amongit cham-
pagne!

But oh what ftrain of fatire can
reply

age.

To loud Hypocrify's difgufting cry!
Hypocrify, who in this cheating town
Allumes Morality's indignant frown,
Our vicious audience, our immoral stage,
Corrupts and taints the manners of the
[train,
Virtue abafh'd, from us withdraws her
And Modetty retires to Drury-lane :
There, in the coffee-room's fecure re-
treat,
[ham-freet;
Condemns the fhameleffness of Tott'n-
While Innocence foi c'd hence by Fashion's
crimes,

Walks the Piazza, and deplores the times.
So much for Blame—we ought no more
to hear

Alarmit caution, and theatric fear.
So much for her, the fhame of modera
days,

The mock morality of form and phrafe.
Why this loud outcry, and this wide

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Behold-To keep your minds uncertain,
Between the scene and you, this curtain.
So writers bide their plots, no doubt,
To please the more when all comes out.

Of old, the Prologue told the ftory,
And laid the whole affair before ye-
Came forth in fimple phrafe to fay-
"Fore the beginning of the play."
Tom King will certainly be here
(Without confent of Manager, I fear),
Followed by Tate-without a plot-
And next, in truth, I fcarce know what.
Afking no trouble of your own'

To kim the milk, or crack the bone"That's too much trouble for Bon Ton."

A Poet, as once Poets ufed, To poverty was quite reducedNo boy on errands to be fent, On his own messages he went; And once with conicious pride and shame, As from the chandler's fhop he came ! (Under his thread-bare coat) poor Sou!! He covered" half a-peck of coal." A wag (his friend) began to smoak— "Will Tell us what's beneath your cloak ?"

"Tell you Twere as good to fhew! I hide it that you should not know."

The Poets now take different ways, (E'en let them find it out for Bays!) Stories half told"-a Cofmagoria! And stranger names-but I'll not bore ye! [waste, With useless expletives your time won't. For every one that's here-"I know has Tafte." [wordNext for ourselves-Of Pic Nic not one 'Twere useless here-and elsewhere more ..abfurd.

Smile at pale Envy-here your plaudits give

Cenfure fhall die-and virtuous Mirth fhall live,

[wage Spite of detraction-no fell war we'll "Gainft Harris ! Giants! Peroufe! and bis Stage!" [applaufe Let "Monkies, Horfes Reafts, draw low "Our's is the Public's-our's-our

Country's caufe." [would fay,.

Laft for myfelf." I fain one word "Approve this night," and I again will play. [guide, Nature (not Art) fhall then become my "For Taste and Nature are with you

allied!

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Spoken by Colonel GREVILLE. WHAT is PIC NIC? I hear you all exclaim, [ous name? What does it mean, and whence the odi-, It means no mifchief, thus far I may tell, Nor is it, as fome think, an Imp of Hell! Tho', if believed, like talifmans of old, It gives to its poffeffor wealth untold. Some think 'tis certainly Pandora's box, While others think it fimply means the ftocks ! [the straw, Mifs Magnet blushing lifps-it means But's comforted when told, we act by law.

Some fay none better can define the word Than Billy Townsend and Sir RICHARD [find it,

FORD;

While others, tho' in Johnson they can't Still fomehow think that SHERIDAN'S [own

defin'd it.

For me, tho' 'gainft my will, I frankly Its mystic qualities muft foon be known; For faunt'ring up St. James's-treet today,

I heard a friend explain it in this way : ̧ A Pic Mic is a devilish clever plan, Invented when the Icarcity began ; By which a fupper by the guests is given, That feeds the bolt at lealt fix days in feven ; [merry, And while it promifes to make them Replenishes his bins with Port and Sherry. A general laugh announced the approba. [tion,

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tion

With which Pic Nic receiv'd interpretaWhile (neaking off quite vex'd, I plainly faw [law.

Our Pic Nic damn'd by fatire, not by To

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Το you, more lib'ral, I commit my fate, Oh! fave my fame, by emptying ev'ry plate; [hoft, Leave no nice pickings for your needy And grant fome refpite to the Morning Poft. [bow, But e'er with modeft look I make my One word to proper manly pride allow. Under whatever name this meeting goes, 'T has_rais'd a host of mean, malignant foes; [mon forth, Not fuch as gen'ral blame fhould fumBut foes alike to candour as to worth. If then th' amusements of ten focial nights [rights, Raife Virtue's blush, or trench on patent

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POETRY.

THE RETREAT TO THE COT. TAGE OF MON REPOS.

A POETICAL OLIO.

BY JOHN, THE HERMIT.

(Continued from Vol. XLI. page 477.) OCCASIONAL POEMS, WRITTEN AT THE COTTAGE; WITH INSCRIP TIONS IN THE GARDEN, &c. XIII.

The Ruftic Maid.

ANYMPH refides in yonder vale, Where late my wandering footsteps led:

I heard her warble to the gale,

And wreaths of wild flow'rs bound her head.

Her eyes diffufed the mildest gleam,

And O what fweetness in her fong! I met the maid befide the fream,

Driving a milk-white cow along. I ftopt her in the woodland way, With fuft addrefs, and language kind; In hopes, from fome emitted ray, To catch a picture of her mind. She faid the dwelt beneath the shade, And feldom ventured from her cot; And tho' in ruffet garbs arrayed, Repined not at her humble lot! She nothing knew of human woe ! Knew not that War, with favage hand, Bade tears and blood for ever flow,

And defolated every land !. That griefs, permitted by the fkies, Without distinction vitit all! That, close where Guilt expiring lies, Mild Firtue's felf is doomed to fall!

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She nothing afked from Fortune's file, Nor could anticipate her frown ; Nor yet did Hope her foul beguile ;

To her that falfe-one was unknown! Nor yet did Memory in her breast

Awake one thought to give her pain!-Her artless bofom ftood confefs'd,.

And the refum'd her vocal strain. I talked of pomp, of power, of gold,

But all unmoved the heard me ftill; She fcarce would hear the things I told, But left me, to afcend the hill.

And who art thou, bleft maid! (I cried) Who thus art free from mental woe ? Whence cam't thou? and to whom allied?

What is thy name? O let me know! "Stranger! my name's Content (faid she), And Ignorance is my father's name; My mother's is Simplicity,

And lo! from yonder cot I came."

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