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WRITTEN BY MR. LLOYD.

SPOKEN BY MR. GARRICK.

THE Jealous Wife! a comedy! poor man!
A charming subject, but a wretched plan.
His skittish wit, o'erleaping the due bound,
Commits flat trespass upon tragic ground.
Quarrels, upbraidings, jealousies, and spleen,
Grow too familiar in the comic scene.

Tinge but the language with heroic chime,
'Tis passion, pathos, character sublime!
What round big words had swell'd the pompous scene,
A king the husband, and the wife a queen!
Then might distraction rend her graceful hair,
See sightless forms, and scream, and gape, and stare.
Drawcansir Death had rag'd without control,
Here the drawn dagger, there the poison'd bowl.
What eyes had stream'd at all the whining woe!
What hands had thunder'd at each hah! and oh!
But peace! the gentle prologue custoin sends,
Like drum and sergeant, to beat up for friends.
At vice and folly, each a lawful game,
Our author flies, but with no partial aim.
He read the manners, open as they lie
In nature's volume to the gen'ral eye.

Books too he read, nor blush'd to use their store-
He does but what his betters did before..
Shakspeare has done it, and the Grecian stage
Caught truth of character from Homer's page.
If in his scenes an honest skill is shown,
And, borrowing little, much appears his own;
If what a master's happy pencil drew
He brings more forward in dramatic view;
To your decision he submits his cause,
Secure of candour, anxious for applause.
But if, all rude, his artless scenes deface
The simple beauties which he meant to grace;
If an invader upon others' land,

He spoil and plunder with a robber's hand,
Do justice on him!- -As on fools before,
And give to blockheads past one blockhead more.

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[Noise heard within.

Mrs. O. [Within] DON'T tell me I know it is so

It's monstrous, and I will not bear it,
Oak. [Within] But, my dear!-
Mrs. O. Nay, nay, &c.

[Squabbling within.

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 your-Tell me, 1 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. 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 town, nay, the whole kingdom too, in

pursuit of your amours!—Did not I discover that you was great with mademoiselle, my own woman?-Did not you contract a shameful familiarity with Mrs. Freeman?-Did not I detect your intrigue with lady Wealthy?-Was not you

Oak. Oons! madam, the grand Turk himself has not half so many mistresses- -You throw me out of all patience-Do I know any body but our common friends? -Am I visited by any body that does not visit you?— Do I ever go out, unless you go with me?-And am I not as constantly by your side as if I was tied to your apron-strings?

Mrs. O. Go, go, you are a false man-Have not I found you out a thousand times? And have not I this moment a letter in my hand, 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 con

tents 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 who 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.

Mrs. O. Innocence!

Abominable!-Innocence!But I am not to be made such a fool-I am convinced of your perfidy, and very sure that

Oak. 'Sdeath and fire! your passion hurries you out of your senses

Will you

hear me?

Mrs. O. No, you are a base man: and I will not hear

you.

Oak. Why then, my dear, since you will neither talk reasonably yourself, nor listen to reason from me, I shall take iny leave till you are in a better humour. So your servant! [Going. 'Mrs. O. Ay, go, you cruel man!- Go to your mistresses, and leave your poor wife to her miseries.

How unfortunate a woman am I!-I could die with vexation[Throwing herself into a Chair. Oak. There it is-Now dare not I stir a step further -If I offer to go, she is in one of her fits in an instant -Never sure was woman at once of so violent and so delicate a constitution! What shall I say to sooth her? [Aside] Nay, never make thyself so uneasy, my dear— Come, come, you know I love you.

Mrs. O. 1 know you hate me; and that your unkindness and barbarity will be the death of me. [Whining. Oak. Do not vex yourself at this rate-I love you most passionately-Indeed I do─This must be some mistake.

Mrs. O. Oh, I am an unhappy woman!

[Weeping Oak. Dry up thy tears, my love, and be comforted! You will find that I am not to blame in this matter-Come, let me see this letter- -Nay, you shall not deny me. [Takes the Letter. Mrs. O. There! take it; you know the hand, I am sure. Oak. [Reads] To Charles Oakly, Esq.-Hand! 'Tis a clerk-like band, a good round text! and was certainly never penned by a fair lady.

Mrs. O. Ay, laugh at me, do!

Oak. Forgive me, my love, I did not mean to laugh at thee- But what says the letter? [Reads] Daughter eloped-you must be privy to it-scandalous-dishonourable-satisfaction-revenge-um, um, um

father,

-injured

HENRY RUSSET.

Mrs. O. [Rising] Well, sir-you see I have detected you- -Tell me this instant where she is concealed. Oak. So-so-so-This hurts me-I'm shocked. [To himself. Mrs. O. What, are you confounded with your guilt? Have I caught you at last?

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 -Charles!-No! Impossible! This is all a trick. Oak. He has certainly ruined this poor lady. [To himself.

see!

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