1736, and received most favourably-it then was withdrawn from the stage till about the year 1782, when Colman the elder revived it at his theatre during the summer. Mr. Colman was a warm admirer of Lillo's works, and of this play in particular. He caused it to be rehearsed with infinite care; and, from the reception of the two first acts, and part of the third, he had the hope that it would become extremely popular-but, on the performance of a scene which followed soon after, a certain horror seized the audience, and was manifested by a kind of stifled scream. After having shuddered at this tragedy, even as a fiction, it is dreadful to be told,-that the most horrid event which here takes place, is merely the representation of a fact which occurred at a village on the western coast of England. That the direful circumstance thus brought upon the stage might probably occur, is the great hold which it has upon the heart ;-had probability been violated, that powerful force would have failed-but Lillo is an author whose characters are such as inhabit the world, and do not reside merely in romances. Fielding, another copyist of nature, says of the play, in his prologue :———— "No fustian hero rages here to-night; "No armies fall to fix a tyrant's right : "From lower life we draw our scene's distress: "Let not your equals move your pity less." FATAL CURIOSITY. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE 1. WILMOT'S House. OLD WILMOT alone. O. Wilm. The day is far advanc'd. The cheerful sun Pursues with vigour his repeated course : No labour lessens, nor no time decays His strength, or splendour: evermore the same, Dependent worlds, bestows both life and motion Yet man, of jarring elements compos'd, Who posts from change to change, from the first hour Of his frail being to his dissolution, Enjoys the sad prerogative above him, To think, and to be wretched! What is life Or, what the wisdom, whose perfection ends Mere contradiction all! A tragic farce, Tedious, though short, elab'rate without art, Enter RANDAL. Where hast been, Randal? Rand. Not out of Penryn, sir; but to the strand, To hear what news from Falmouth, since the storm Of wind last night. O. Wilm. It was a dreadful one. Rand. Some found it so. A noble ship from India Ent'ring the harbour, run upon a rock, And there was lost. 0. Wilm. What came of those on board her? Rand. Some few are sav'd, but much the greater part, 'Tis thought, are perish'd. O. Wilm. They are past the fear Of future tempests, or a wreck on shore : Where's your mistress? Rand. I saw her pass the High-street, t'wards the Minster. O. Wilm. She's gone to visit Charlotte. She doth well. In the soft bosom of that gentle maid, There dwells more goodness than the rigid race Whom more than life she loves! How shun for him, And blast her youth with our contagious woe! Who, that had reason, soul, or sense, would bear it A grateful, gen'rous youth, to perish with me? Rand. Fifteen years. · ye took me, [OLD WILMOT wipes his Eyes, I am to blame: this talk revives your sorrow For his long absence. O. Wilm. That cannot be reviv'd Which never died. Rand. The whole of my intent Was to confess your bounty, that supplied O. Wilm. No more of that: Thou'st serv'd me Without reward; so that account is balanced, O. Wilm. With my distress, In perfect contradiction to the world, |