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A Tragedy Rehearsed
Dramatic Piece

in three ACTS

as it is performed at the

THEATRE ROYAL in DRURY LANE

Richard Brinsley Sheridan Esq-

LONDON.

Printed for T. Becket, Adelphi,Strand,

MDCCL XXXI.

MADAM,

IN

N requesting your permission to address the following pages to you, which as they aim themselves to be critical, require every protection and allowance that approving taste or friendly prejudice can give them, I yet ventured to mention no other motive than the

ever,

gra

tification of private friendship and esteem. Had I fuggefted a hope that your implied approbation would give a fanction to their defects, your particular referve, and diflike to the reputation of critical tafte, as well as of poetical talent, would have made you refuse the protection of your name to fuch a purpose. HowI am not fo ungrateful as now to attempt to combat this difpofition in you. I shall not here prefume to argue that the present state of poetry claims and expects every afiftance that taste and example can afford it: nor endeavour to prove that a faftidious concealment of the most elegant productions of judgment and fancy is an ill return for the poffeffion of those A endow.

ii

endowments.-Continue to deceive yourself in the idea that you are known only to be eminently admired and regarded for the valuable qualities that attach private friendships, and the graceful talents that adorn conversation. Enough of what you have written, has ftolen into full public notice to answer my purpofe; and you will, perhaps, be the only perfon, converfant in elegant literature, who fhall read this address and not perceive that by publifhing your particular approbation of the following drama, I have a more interested object than to boaft the true refpect and regard with which

I have the honour to be,

MADAM,

Your very fincere,

And obedient humble fervant,

R. B. SHERIDAN.

By the Honorable RICHARD FITZPATRICK.

HE Sifter Mufes, whom these realms obey,

TH
Two ter the Drama hold divided fway,

Who o'er

Sometimes, by evil counfellors, 'tis faid

Like earth-born potentates have been misled:
In those gay days of wickedness and wit,
When Villiers criticiz'd what Dryden writ,
The Tragick Queen, to please a tasteless crow'd,
Had learn'd to bellow, rant, and roar fo loud,
That frighten'd Nature, her best friend before,
The bluft'ring beldam's company forfwore.
Her comic Sifter, who had wit 'tis true,
With all her merits, had her failings too;

And would fometimes in mirthful moments use
A ftyle too flippant for a well-bred Mufe.
Then female modesty abash'd began

To feek the friendly refuge of the fan,

Awhile behind that flight entrenchment ftood,
'Till driv'n from thence, the left the stage for good.
In our more pious, and far chaster times!
These fure no longer are the Mufe's crimes!

But fome complain that, former faults to fhun,

The reformation to extremes has run.

The frantick hero's wild delirium paft,
Now infipidity fucceeds bombaft;

So flow Melpomene's cold numbers creep,
Here dullness seems her drowsy court to keep,

And we, are scarce awake, whilft you are fast asleep.

A 2

Thalia,

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