Mrs. Dangle. My friend Sneer was rallying just now -He knows how she admires you, and

Sir F. O lord, I am sure Mr. Sneer has more taste and sincerity than to-A damned double-faced fellow! [Aside.

Dang. humoured

Yes, yes,-Sneer will jest-but a better

Sir F. Oh, I know

Dang. He has a ready turn for ridicule-his wit costs him nothing.

Sir F. No, egad-or I should wonder how he came by it.

[Aside.

Dang. But, Sir Fretful, have you sent your play to the managers yet? or can I be of any service to you?

Sir F. No, no, I thank you; I believe the picce had sufficient recommendation with it. I thank you though--I sent it to the manager of Covent Garden Theatre this morning.

Sneer. I should have thought now, that it might have been cast (as the actors call it) better at Drury Lane.

Sir F. O lud! no-never send a play there while I live-harkye! [Whispers Sneer. Sneer. Writes himself! I know he docs

Sir F. I say nothing. I take away from no man's merit-am hurt at no man's good fortune-I say nothing. But this I will say-through all my knowledge of life, I have observed that there is not a passion so strongly rooted in the human heart as envy!

Sneer. I believe you have reason for what you say, indeed.

Sir F. Besides; I can tell you it is not always so safe to leave a play in the hands of those who write themselves.

Sneer. What, they may steal from them, eh, my dear Plagiary?

Sir F. Steal! to be sure they may; and, egad, serve your best thoughts as gipsies do stolen children, disfigure them to make 'em to pass for their own.

Sneer. But your present work is a sacrifice to Melpomene, and he, you know, never

Sir F. That's no security. A dexterous plagiarist may do anything. Why, sir, for aught I know, he might take out some of the best things in my tragedy, and put them into his own comedy.

Sneer. That might be done, I dare be sworn.

Sir F. And then, if such a person gives you the least hint, or assistance, he is devilish apt to take the merit of the whole

Dang. If it succeeds.

Sir F. Ay, but with regard to this piece, I think I can hit that gentleman, for I can safely swear he never read it.

Sneer.

Sir F.
Sneer.

Sir F.

I'll tell you how you may hurt him more.
How?

Swear he wrote it.

Plague on't now, Sneer, I shall take it ill. I believe you want to take away my character as an author!

Sneer. Then I am sure you ought to be very much obliged to me.

Sir F. Eh! Sir!

Dang. Oh, you know, he never means what he says.

Sir F. Sincerely then-you do like the piece?

Sneer. Wonderfully!

Sir F. But come now, there must be something that you think might be mended, eh? Mr. Dangle, has nothing struck you?

Dang. Why faith, it is but an ungracious thing for the most part to

Sir F. With most authors it is just so indeed; they are in general strangely tenacious! But, for my part, I am never so well pleased as when a judicious critic points out any defect to me; for what is the purpose of showing a work to a friend, if you dont mean to profit by his opinion?

Sneer. Very true. Why then, though I seriously admire the piece upon the whole, yet there is one small objection; which, if you 'll give me leave, I'll mention. Sir F. Sir, you cant oblige me more.

Sneer. I think it wants incident.

Sir F. incident?

Good God! you surprise me!

Wants

Sneer. Yes; I own I think the incidents are too few.

Sir F. Good God! Believe me, Mr. Sneer, there is no person for whose judgment I have a more implicit deference. But I protest to you, Mr. Sneer, I am only apprehensive that the incidents are too crowded. dear Dangle, how does it strike you?

My

Dang. Really I cant agree with my friend Sneer. I think the plot quite sufficient; and the four first acts by many degrees the best I ever read or saw in my life. If I might venture to suggest anything, it is that the interest rather falls off in the fifth.

Sir F. Rises, I believe you mean, sir.

Dang. No, I dont, upon my word.

Sir F. Yes, yes, you do, upon my soul-it certainly dont fall off, I assure you. No, no, it dont fall off.

Dang. Now, Mrs. Dangle, didn't you say it struck you in the same light?

Mrs. D. No, indeed, I did not-I did not see a fault in any part of the play from the beginning to the

end.

Sir F. Upon my soul, the women are the best judges after all!

Mrs. D. Or if I made any objection, I am sure it was to nothing in the piece! but that I was afraid it was, on the whole, a little too long.

Sir F. Pray, madam, do you speak as to duration of time? or do you mean that the story is tediously spun out?

Mrs. D. Oh, lud! no. I speak only with reference to the usual length of acting plays.

Sir F. Then I am very happy-very happy, indeed— because the play is a short play, a remarkably short play: I should not venture to differ with a lady on a point of taste; but, on these occasions, the watch, you know, is the critic.

Mrs. D. Then, I suppose, it must have been Mr. Dangle's drawling manner of reading it to me.

Sir F. Oh, if Mr. Dangle read it that's quite another affair! But I assure you, Mrs. Dangle, the first evening you can spare me three hours and a half, I'll undertake to read you the whole from beginning to end, with the prologue and epilogue, and allow time for the music between the acts.

Mrs. D. I hope to see it on the stage next.

Dang. Well, Sir Fretful, I wish you may be able to get rid as easily of the newspaper criticisms as you do of ours.

Sir F. The newspapers! Sir, they are the most villanous, licentious, abominable, infernal. Not that I ever read them. No, I make it a rule never to look into a newspaper.

Dang. You are quite right-for it certainly must hurt an author of delicate feelings to see the liberties they take.

Sir F. No-quite the contrary; their abuse is, in

fact, the best panegyric-I like it of all things. An author's reputation is only in danger from their support. Sneer. Why that's true, and that attack now on you the other day

Sir F. What? where?

Dang. Ay, you mean in a paper of Thursday; it was completely ill-natured to be sure.

Sir F. Oh, so much the better. Ha! ha! ha! I wouldn't have it otherwise.

Dang. Certainly it is only to be laughed at; forSir F. You dont happen to recollect what the fellow said, do you?

Sneer. Pray, Dangle, Sir Fretful seems a little anxious.

Sir F. Oh, lud, no!-anxious-not I-not the least -I-But one may as well hear, you know.

Dang. Sneer, do you recollect? Make out something. [Aside. Sneer. I will. [To Dangle.] Yes, yes, I remember perfectly.

Sir F. Well, and pray now-not that it signifies— what might the gentleman say?

Sneer. Why, he roundly asserts that you have not the slightest invention, or original genius whatever; though you are the greatest traducer of all other authors living.

Sir F. Ha! ha! ha! very good!

Sneer. That as to comedy you have not one idea of your own, he believes, even in your common-place-book, where stray jokes and pilfered witticisms, are kept with as much method as the ledger of the lost-and-stolenoffice.

Sir F. Ha! ha! ha! very pleasant!

Sneer. Nay, that you are so unlucky as not to have the skill even to steal with taste; but that you glean