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Don P. That, sir, shall be no lett; 1 am too sued, and carried with this kind surprise at
dissembled penitence has deceiv'd me once Don M. Another metamorphosis! Brave girls,
Hyp. If I am proved one spare me not-I
[Gives Hypolita the Writing, signed. Hyp. And now, don Philip, I confess you are the ouly injured person here.
Don P. I know not that-do my friend right, and I shall easily forgive thee.
Hyp. His pardon, with his thanks, I am sure I shall deserve: but how shall I forgive myself? Is there in nature left a means that can repair the shameful slights, the insults, and the long disquiets you have known from love?
Don P. Let me understand thee.
Don P. In Seville I'll provide for thee. Hyp. Nay, here's another accomplice too, confederate I can't say; for honest Trappanti did not know but that I was as great a rogue as himself.
Trap. It's a folly to lie; I did not indeed, madam.-But the world cannot say I have been a rogue to your ladyship-and if you had not parted with your money
Hyp. Thou hadst not parted with thy honesty.
Trap. Right, madam; but how should a poor naked fellow resist when he had so many pistoles held against him? [Shows Money. Don M. Ay, ay, well said, lad.
Fil. Ea? A tempting bait indeed! let him offer to marry me again if he dares. [Aside. Don P. Well, Trappanti, thou hast been serviceable, however, and I'll think of thee. Oct. Nay, I am his debtor too.
Hyp. Examine well your heart, and if the fierce resentment of its wrongs has not extin- Trap. Ah! there's a very easy way, genguished quite the usual soft compassion there, tlemen, to reward me; and since you partly revive at least one spark in pity of my wo-owe your happiness to my roguery, I should man's weakness. be very proud to owe mine only to your geOct. As how, pray? [nerosity.
Don P. Whither wouldst thou carry me? Hyp. The extravagant attempt I have this Trap. Why, si, I find by my constitution, day run through to meet you thus, justly may that it is as natural to be in love as to be hunsubject me to your contempt and scorn, unless gry, and that I han't a jot less stomach than the same forgiving goodness that used to over- the best of my betters; and though I have oftlook the failings of Hypolita, prove still my en thought a wife but dining every day upon friend, and soften all with the excuse of love. the same dish; yet methinks it's better than [All seem amazed] O Philip─Hypolita is no dinner at all. Upon which considerations, yours for ever. [They advance slowly, and gentlemen and ladies, I desire you'll use your at lastrush into one another's Arms. interest with Madona here-To admit me into Don P. It is, it is, Hypolita! And yet 'tis her good graces. she! I know her by the busy pulses at my Don M. A pleasant rogue, faith! Odzooks, heart, which only love like mine can feel, and the jade shall have him. Come, hussy, he's she alone can give. [Embraces her eagerly. an ingenious person.
Don M. Have I then been pleased, and pla- Fil. Sir, I don't understand his stuff; when gued, and frighted out of my wits, by a wo- he speaks plain I know what to say to him. man all this while? Odsbud, she is a notable Trap. Why then, in plain terms, let me a contriver! Stand clear, ho! For if I have not lease for life.-Marry me.
a fair brush at her lips; nay, if she does not Vil. Ay, now you say something—I was give me the hearty smack too, odds-winds and afraid, by what you said in the garden, you thunder, she is not the good-humour'd girl I had only a mind to be a wicked tenant at will. take her for. Trap. No, no, child, I have no mind to be
Hyp. Come, sir, I won't balk your good turn'd out at a quarter's warning. humour. [He kisses her] And now I have a Vil. Well, there's my hand-And now meet favour to beg of you; you remember your me as soon as you will with a canonical promise: only your blessing here, sir. lawyer, and I'll give you possession of the Octavio and Rosara kneel. rest of the premises. Don M. Ah! can deny thee nothing, and Don M. Odzooks, and well thought of, il so, children, heaven bless ye together-And send for one presently. Here, you, sirrah, run now my cares are over again. to father Benedick again, tell him his work
Oct. We'll study to deserve your love, sir. don't hold here, his last marriage is dropp Don P. My friend successful too! Then my to pieces; but now we have got better tackle. joys are double-But how this generous at- he must come and stitch two or three fresh tempt was started first, how it has been pur- couple together as fast as he can.
Don P. Now, my Hypolita!
O! never let a virtuous mind despair,
Was the sun of Francis Colman, Esq., His Majesty's resident at the court of the Grand Duke of Tuscany at Florence, by a sister of the Countess of Bath. He was born at Florence about 1733, and had the honour of having king George the Second for his godfather. He received his education at Westminster School, where he very early showed his poetical talents. The first performance by him was a copy of verses addressed to his cousin Lord Pulteney, written in the year 1747, while he was at Westminster, and since printed in The St. Jame's Magazine, a work published by his unfortunste friend, Robert Lloyd. From Westminster School he removed to Oxford, and became a student of Christchurch, It was there, at a very early age, that he engaged with his friend Bonnel Thornton, in publishing The Genesest, a periodical paper which appeared once a week, and was continued from Jan. 31. 1754. to Sept. 35. 1756, When the age of the writers of this entertaining paper is considered, the wit and humour, the spirit, the good sense and shrewd observations on life and manners, with which it abounds, will excite some degree of wonder; but will, at the same time, evidently point out the extraordinary talents which were afterwards to be more fully displayed in The Jelena Wife and The Clandestine Marriage. The recommendation of his friends, or his choice, but probably the former, induced him to fix upon the law for his profession; and was accordingly entered at Lincoln's Inn, and in due season called to the bar. He attended there a very short time; though, if our recollection does not mislead us, he was seen often enough in the courts to prevent the supposition of his abandoning the profession merely for want of encouragement. On the 18th of March 1758, he took the degree of Master of arts at Oxford; and in the year 1760 his first dramatic piece, Polly Honeycomb, was acted at Drury Lane, with great success. For several years before, the comic Mase seemed to have relinquished the stage. No comedy had been produced at either theatre since the year 1751, when Moure's Gil Blas was with difficulty performed nine nigts. In July 1764 Lord Bath died and on that event Mr. Colman found himself in circumstances fully sufficient to enable him to follow the bent of his genius. The first publication which he produced, after this period, was a translation in blank verse of the comedies of Terence, 1765; and whoever would wish to see the spirit of an ancient bard transfused into the English language, must look for it ia Mr. Colman's version. The successor of Lord Bath, General Pulteney, died in 1767; and Mr. Colman again found himsel remembered in his will, by a second annuity, which confirmed the independency of his fortune, however, to have felt no charms in an idle life; as, in 1767, he united with Messrs. Harris, Rutherford, and Powell, in the purchase of Covent Garden Theatre, and took upon himself the laborious office of acting manager. After contimanager of Covent Garden Theatre seven years, Mr. Colman sold his share and interest therein to Mr. James Leske, one of his then partners; and, in 1777, purchased of Mr. Foote the Little Theatre in the Haymarket. The estmaion in which the entertainments exhibited under his direction were held by the public, the reputation which the theatre acquired, and the continual concourse of the polite world during the height of summer, sufficiently spoke the praises of Mr. Colman's management. Indeed, it has been long admitted, that no person, since the death of Mr. Gurich, was so able to superintend the entertainments of the stage as the subject of this account. About the year 1785 Mr Colmas gave the public a new translation of, and commentary on, Horace's Art of Poetry; in which he produced zew system to explain this very difficult poem. In opposition to Dr. Hurd, he supposed, "that one of the sons of Padoubtedly the elder, hat either written or mediated a poetical work, most probably a tragedy; and that he Bad, with the knowledge of the family, communicated his piece or intention to Horace. But Horace either dissaproving of the work, or doubting of the poetical faculties of the elder Piso, or both, wished to dissuade him from all thought efplication. With this view he formed the design of writing this epistle; addressing it, with a courtliness and deEy perfectly agreeable to his acknowledged character, indifferently to the whole family, the father and his two sons, Ela ad Pisones de arte Poetica." This hypothesis is supported with mach learning, ingenuity, and modesty; and, if fully established, is at least as well entitled to applause as that adopted by the Bishop of Worcester. On the Pub cation of the Horace, the Bishop said to Dr. Douglas, "Give my compliments to Colman, and thank him for the haudeme manner in which he has treated me; and tell him, that I think he is right" Mr. Colman died at Paddington, an the oth of August 1794, at the age of 62. A few hours before his death he was seized with violent spasms; and Le were succeeded by a melancholy stupor, in which he drew his last breath.
THE JEALOUS WIFE,
Com by Geo. Colman, 1761. This piece made its appearance at Drury Lane with prodigious success. The ground* of it in derived from Fielding's History of Tom Jones, at the period of Sophia's taking refuge at Lady Bellaston's The characters borrowed from that work, however, only serve as a kind of underplot to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Oday, viz, the Jealous Wife and her husband. It must be confessed, that the passions of the lady are here worked a very great height; and Mr. Oakley's vexation and domestic misery, in consequence of her behaviour. are very rly supported. Yet, perhaps, the author would have better answered his purpose with respect to the passion he le expose the absurdity of, had he made her appear somewhat less of the virago, and Mr. Oakley not so much of the bopecked husband; since she now appears rather a lady, who, from a cousciousness of her own power, is dearea of supporting the appearance of jealousy, to procure her an indue influence over her husband and family, than , bling the reality of that turbulent yet fluctuating passion, becomes equally absurd in the suddenness of formspicions, and in that hastiness of being satisfied, which love, the only true basis of jealousy, will constantly Oscar. When this play was originally acted, it was remarked, that the scene of Mrs. Oakley's hysteric fits bor ca mer reamblance to the like situation of Mrs. Termagant in The Squire of Alsatia. Mr. Colman has been accused of mer in calling it The Jealous Wife; Mrs. Oakley being totally destitute of that delicacy, which some consider nectary to constitute jealousy. Many exceptions might be taken to the characters in this piece-that of Lady Freelove a percaps too odious for the stage, while that of Captain O'Cutter does little honour to the navy. The play, how, upon the whole, boasts more than an ordinary share of merit.
SCENE. I.-A Room in OAKLY'S House.
her miseries.- How unfortunate a woman am
[Throwing herself into a Chair. Oak. There it is-Now dare not I stir a [Noise heard within. step further-If I offer to go, she is in one of Mrs. O. [Within] Don't tell me-I know her fits in an instant-Never sure was woit is so-It's monstrous, and I will not bear it. man at once of so violent and so delicate a Oak. [Within] But, my dear!-constitution! What shall I say to sooth her? Mrs. O. Nay, nay, etc. [Squabbling within. |[Aside]Nay, never make thyself so uneasy, my dear-Come, come, you know I love you. Mrs. O. I know you hate me; and that your unkindness and barbarity will be the death of me. [Whining Oak. Do not ves yourself at this rate-l love you most passionately-Indeed I doThis must be some mistake.
Enter MRS. OAKLY, with a Letter, followed by OAKLY.
Mrs. O. Say what you will, Mr. Oakly, you shall never persuade me but this is some filthy intrigue of yours.
Oak. I can assure you, my love
Mrs. O. Your love!-Don't I know yourTell me, I say, this instant, every circumstance relating to this letter.
Oak. How can I tell you, when you will not so much as let me see it?
Mrs. O. Oh, I am an unhappy woman!
Oak. Dry up thy tears, my love, and be
[Takes the Letter, Mrs. O. There! take it; you know the hand, am sure.
Mrs. O. Look you, Mr. Oakly, this usage is not to be borne. You take a pleasure in abusing my tenderness and soft disposition.To be perpetually running over the whole I town, nay, the whole kingdom too, in pursuit Oak. [Reads] To Charles Oakly, Esq.— of your amours! Did not I discover that Hand! 'Tis a clerk-like hand, a good round you was great with mademoiselle, my own text! and was certainly never penned by a woman?-Did not you contract a shameful fair lady.
familiarity with Mrs. Freeman?-Did not I Mrs. O. Ay, laugh at me, do! detect your intrigue with lady Wealthy?- Oak. Forgive me, my love, I dit not mean Was not youto laugh at thee-But what says the letter? Oak. Oons! madam, the grand Turk him- [Reads] Daughter eloped-you must be self has not half so many mistresses-Yo throw privy to it-scandalous-dishonourable-same out of all patience-Do I know any body tisfaction—revenge-um, um, um-injured but our common friends?—Am I visited by father. HENRY RUSSET.
any body that does not visit you?-Do I ever Mrs. O. [Rising] Well, sir-you see I have go out, unless you go with me?-And am I detected you-Tell me this instant where she not as constantly by your side as if I was is concealed. tied to your apron-strings? Oak. So-so — so -This hurts me—I'm Mrs. O. Go, go; you are a false man-Have shocked. [To himself. not I found you out a thousand times? And Mrs. O. What, are you confounded with have not I this moment a letter in my hand, your guilt? Have I caught you at last? which convinces me of your baseness?-Let me know the whole affair, or I will
Oak. Let you know! Let me know what you would have of me You stop my letter before it comes to my hands, and then expect that I should know the contents of it!
Mrs. O. Heaven be praised, I stopped it! I suspected some of these doings for some time past-But the letter informs me wl. she is, and I'll be revenged on her sufficiently. Oh, you base man, you!
Oak. I beg, my dear, that you would moderate your passion!-Show me the letter, and I'll convince you of my innocence.
Oak. O that wicked Charles! To decoy a young lady from her parents in the country! The profligacy of the young fellows of this age is abominable. [To himself.
Mrs. O. [Half aside, and musing] Charles!-Let me see!-Charles!-No!-Impossible! This is all a trick.
Oak. He has certainly ruined this poor lady. [To himself. Mrs. O. Art! art! all art! There's a sudden turn now! You have ready wit for an intrigue, I find.
Oak. Such an abandoned action! I wish I had never had the care of him.
Mrs. O. Innocence!- Abonimable!-Inno- Mrs. O. Mighty fine, Mr. Oakly! Go on, cence! But I am not to be made such a fool sir, go on! I see what you mean.-Your as-I am convinced of your perfidy, and very surance provokes me beyond your very falsesure thathood itself. So you imagine, sir, that this afOak. 'Sdeath and fire! your passion hurries fected concern, this flimsy pretence about you out of your senses- -Will you hear me? Charles, is to bring you off. Matchless conMrs. O. No, you are a base man: and Ifidence! But I am armed against every thing I will not hear you. -I am prepared for all your dark schemes Oak. Why then, my dear, since you will I am aware of all your low stratagems. neither talk reasonably yourself, nor listen to Oak. See there now! Was ever any thing reason from me, I shall take my leave till so provoking? To persevere in your ridicu you are in a better humour. So your servant! lous-For heaven's sake, my dear, don't dis [Going. tract me. When you see my mind thus ag
Mrs. O. Ay, go, you cruel man!-Go to tated and uneasy, that a young fellow, who: your mistresses, and leave your poor wife to his dying father, my own brother, committe
Oak. I like this emotion; it looks well: it may serve too to convince my wife of the folly of her suspicions. Would to heaven I could quiet them for ever!
to my care, should be guilty of such enor-think the whole family is made of nothing but mous wickedness; I say, when you are wit- combustibles. ness of my distress on this occasion, how can you be weak enough and cruel enough toMrs. O. Prodigiously well, sir! You do it very well. Nay, keep it up, carry it on; there's nothing like going through with it. O, Maj. O. Why pray now, my dear, naughty you artful creature! But, sir, I am not to be brother, what heinous offence have you comso easily satisfied. I do not believe a syllable mitted this morning? What new of all this Give me the letter-[Snatches the suspicion? You have been asking one of the Letter] You shall sorely repent this vile bu- maids to mend your ruffle, I suppose, or have siness, for I am resolved that I will know the been hanging your head out at the window, bottom of it. [Exit. when a pretty young woman has passed by, Oak. This is beyond all patience. Provok-oring woman! Her absurd suspicions interpret Oak. How can you trifle with my distresses, every thing the wrong way. But this ungra- major? Did not I tell you it was about a cious boy! In how many troubles will he letter? involve his own and his lady's family!-I never imagined that he was of such abandoned cumstance, to be sure! What, and the seal rinciples.
Enter MAJOR OAKLY and CHARLES. Charles. Good morrow, sir!
Maj. O. Good morrow, brother, good morrow!-What! you have been at the old work, I find. I heard you-ding! dong! i'faith!She has rung a noble peal in your ears. But how now? Why sure you've had a remarkable warm bout on't.-You seem more ruffled than usual.
Oak. 1 am, indeed, brother! Thanks to that young gentleman there. Have a care, Charles! you may be called to a severe account for this. The honour of a family, sir, is no such light matter.
Maj. O. A letter!-hum-A suspicious cir
a truelover's knot now, hey? or a heart transfixed with darts; or possibly the wax bore the industrious impression of a thimble; or perhaps the folds were lovingly connected by a wafer, pricked with a pin, and the direction written in a vile scrawl, and not a word spelt as it should be! ha, ha, ha!
Oak. Pooh! brother-Whatever it was, the letter, you find, was for Charles, not for me this outrageous jealousy is the devil.
Maj. O. Mere matrimonial blessings and domestic comfort, brother! jealousy is a certain sign of love.
Oak. Love! it is this very love that hath made us both so miserable. Her love for me has confined me to my house, like a state prisoner, without the liberty of seeing my
Maj. O. Hey-day! What, has a curtain lec- friends, or the use of pen, ink, and paper; ture produced a lecture of morality? What while my love for her has made such a fool of me, that I have never had the spirit to contradict her.
is all this?
Oak. To a profligate mind, perhaps, these things may appear agreeable in the beginning. But don't you tremble at the consequences? Charles. I see, sir, that you are displeased with me; but I am quite at a loss to guess at the occasion.
Oak. Tell me, sir!-where is miss Harriot Russet?
Maj. O. Ay, ay, there you've hit it, Mrs. Oakly would make an excellent wife, if you did but know how to manage her.
Oak. You are a rare fellow indeed to talk of managing a wife-A debauched bachelor -a rattle-brained, rioting fellow-who have picked up your commonplace notions of Charles. Miss Harriot Russet!-Sir-Explain. women in bagnios, taverns, and the camp; Oak. Have not you decoyed her from her whose most refined commerce with the sex father? has been in order to delude country girls at Charles. -Decoyed her-Decoyed my your quarters, or to besiege the virtue of abiHarriot-I would sooner die than do her the least injury-What can this mean?
Maj. O. I believe the young dog has been at ber, after all.
gails, inilliners, or mantua-makers' 'prentices.
Maj. O. So much the better!-so much the better! women are all alike in the main, brother, high or low, married or single, quality or Oak I was in hopes, Charles, you had better no quality. I have found them so, from a duchess priseples. But there's a letter just come from down to a milk-maid; every woman is a tyher fatherrant at the bottom. But they could never make Charles. A letter!-What letter? Dear sir, a fool of me.-No, no! no woman should give it me. Some intelligence of my Harriot, ever domineer over me, let her be mistress major-The letter, sir, the letter this mo- or wife. ment, for heaven's sake!
Oak. Single men can be no judges in these Oak. If this warmth, Charles, tends to prove cases. They must happen in all families. But when things are driven to extremities-to see Charles. Dear sir, excuse me -I'll prove a woman in uneasiness a woman one loves any thing-Let me but see this letter, and I'll-too-one's wife-who can withstand it? You Oak. Let you see it!-I could hardly get a neither speak nor think like a man that has sight of it myself. Mrs. Oakly has it. loved and been married, major! Charles. Has she got it? Major, I'll be with Maj. O. I wish I could hear a married man You again directly. [Exit hastily. speak my language-I'm a bachelor, it's true; Maj. O. Hey-day! The devil's in the boy! but I am no bad judge of your case for all What a fiery set of people! By my troth, I that. I know yours and Mrs. Oakly's dispo
sition to a hair. She is all impetuosity and my study. I'll go and steal them out, while fire-a very magazine of touchwood and gun- she is busy talking with Charles. powder. You are hot enough too, upon oc- Maj. O. Steal them! for shame! Pr'ythee casion, but then it's over in an instant. In take them boldly; call for them! make them comes love and conjugal affection, as you call bring them to you here; and go out with it; that is, mere folly and weakness-and you spirit, in the face of your whole family. draw off your forces, just when you should| Oak. No, no-you are wrong-let her rave pursue the attack, and follow your advantage. after I am gone, and when I return, you know, Have at her with spirit, and the day's your I shall exert myself with more propriety, after own, brother. this open affront to her authority. Oak. Why, what would you have me do? Maj. O. Well, take your own way. Maj. O. Do as you please for one month, Oak. Ay, ay-let me manage it, let me mawhether she likes it or not: and I'll answer nage it. [Exil. for it she will consent you shall do as you Maj. O. Manage it! ay, to be sure, you please all her life after. In short, do but show are a rare manager! It is dangerous, they yourself a man of spirit, leave off whining say, to meddle between man and wife. I am about love and tenderness, and nonsense, and no great favourite of Mrs. Oakly's already; the business is done, brother. and in a week's time I expect to have the door shut in my teeth. Enter CHARLES.
Oak. I believe you are in the right, major! I see you are in the right. I'll do it-I'll certainly do it.—But then it hurts me to the soul, to think what uneasiness I shall give her. The first opening of my design will throw her into fits, and the pursuit of it, perhaps, may be fatal.
How now, Charles, what news?
Charles. Oh no! Fled to avoid that bateful match with sir Harry Beagle.
Maj. O. Faith, a girl of spirit; but whence comes all this intelligence?
Maj. O. Fits! ha, ha, ha!-I'll engage to cure her of her fits. Nobody understands hysterical cases better than I do; besides, my sister's symptoms are not very dangerous. Did you ever hear of her falling into a fit when Charles. In an angry letter from her father you was not by?-Was she ever found in -How miserable I am! If I had not offendconvulsions in her closet?-No, no, these fits, ed my Harriot, much offended her, by that the more care you take of them, the more foolish riot and drinking at your house in the you will increase the distemper: let them country, she would certainly, at such a time, alone, and they will wear themselves out, I have taken refuge in my arms.
Maj.O. A very agreeable refuge for a young certainly in lady to be sure, and extremely decent! Where do
Charles. What a heap of extravagancies
coach, and was I guilty of!
Maj. O. O brave! keep up this spirit, you are made for ever.
Oak. You shall see now, major!-Who's there?
Order the coach directly. I shall dine to-day.
Maj O. Extravagancies with a witness! Ah, you silly young dog, you would ruin your self with her father, in spite of all I could do. There you sat, as drunk as a lord, telling the old gentleman the whole affair, and swearing you would drive sir Harry Beagle out of the country, though I kept winking and nodding, out pulling you by the sleeve, and kicking your shins under the table, in hopes of stopping you; but all to no purpose.
Sero. The coach, sir?—Now, sir?
Maj. O. Sirrah! do as you are bid. Bid them put to this instant.
Sero. Ye-yes, sir—yes, sir.
Maj. O. That's right.
Oak. I am steel.
Maj. O. Bravo!
Maj. O. O Bravissimo!
Oak. Just what you'd have me.
Charles. What distress may she be in at this instant! Alone and defenceless!—Where, where can she be?
Maj. O. What relations or friends has she in town?
Charles. Relations! let me see.- Faith, I have it!-If she is in town, ten to one but she is at her aunt's, lady Freelove's. I'll go thither immediately.
Maj. O. Lady Freelove's! Hold, hold, Charles!-do you know her ladyship?
Charles. Not much! but I'll break through all, to get to my Harriot.
Maj. O. I do know her ladyship.
Charles. Well, and what do you know of her?
Maj. O. O, nothing!-Her ladyship is
Maj. O. Why that's well said. But will you woman of the world, that's all
Oak. I will.
Maj. O. You won't.
Charles. What do you mean?
Maj. O. That lady Freelove is an arrantBy-the by, did not she, last summer, make for mal proposals to Harriot's father from lo
Oak. I will. I'll be a fool to her no longer.