WITH this excellent Play the new Theatre and Company opened at Lincolns-Inn-Fields. Its success was so great that Betterton and his brother Managers, it is recorded, offered the Author in consequence, a whole share in their profits upon the sole condition of furnishing them annually with a new Play.
Of this piece it may be remarked, that it has stronger diversities of character than any other written by CONGREVE, and those characters have a closer approximation to life-That the manners are well opposed and their effect irresistible.-FORESIGHT who refers "Man's goatish disposition to the charge of a star," then could not excite the laughter he does now, as a great majority of his hearers, it may be presumed, relied upon the same influence and confided in similar predictions. The FORESIGHT of our inimitable PARSONS may be recorded as perfection.
THEY who are conversant with Nautical language, find the conversation of BEN either illsuited or obsolete, yet he excites much laughter and keeps it; but the common impression now generally received
of the generosity of a BRITISH TAR contributes, from its force in extenuating foible, to the disgust enter. tained at a being in whose composition nothing like this quality seems to enter.
THE Characters however they may be discriminated by sentiment and action, are certainly nothing discriminate from language-They are all uniformly wits, and partake equally of the parent.
THE husbandman in vain renews his toil,
To cultivate each year a hungry soil;
And fondly hopes for rich and generous fruit,
When what should feed the tree devours the root:
Th' unladen boughs, he sees, bode certain dearth,
Unless transplanted to more kindly earth.
So, the poor husbands of the stage, who found
Their labours lost upon ungrateful ground,
This last and only remedy have prov'd;
And hope new fruit from ancient stocks remov'd.
Well may they hope, when you so kindly aid,
Well plant a soil, which you so rich have made.
As Nature gave the world to man's first age,
So from your bounty we receive this stage;
The freedom man was born to, you've restor❜d,
And to our world such plenty you afford,
It seems, like Eden, fruitful of its own accord.
But since in Paradise frail flesh gave way,
And when but two were made, both went astray;
Forbear your wonder, and the fault forgive,
If, in our larger family, we grieve
One falling Adam, and one tempted Eve.
We who remain would gratefully repay,
What our endeavours can, and bring this day,
The first-fruit offering of a virgin play?
We hope there's something that may please each taste,
And tho' of homely fare we make the feast,
Yet you will find variety at least.
There's humour, which for cheerful friends we got,
And for the thinking party there's a plot.
We've something too, to gratify ill-nature
(If there be any here)—and that is satire.
Tho' satire scarce dares grin, 'tis grown so mild,
Or only shews its teeth, as if it smil'd.
As asses thistles, poets mumble wit,
And dare not bite, for fear of being bit.
They hold their pens, as swords are held by fools,
And are afraid to use their own edge-tools.
Since the Plain Dealer's scenes of manly rage,
Not one has dar'd to lash this crying age.
This time, the poet owns the bold essay,
Yet hopes there's no ill-manners in his play:
And he declares by me, he has design'd
Affront to none; but frankly speaks his mind.
And, should th' ensuing scenes not chance to hit,
He offers but this one excuse-'twas writ
Before your late encouragement of wit.
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