-A walking rouleau!-a body that seems to owe all its con sequence to the dropsy!—a pair of eyes like two dead beetles in a wad of brown dough!-a beard like an artichoke, with dry shrivelled jaws, that would disgrace the mummy of a monkey!

Don Jer. Well done, Margaret!

Duen. But you shall know that I have a brother who wears a sword—and, if you don't do me justice

Isaac. Fire seize your brother, and you too! I'll fly to Jerusalem to avoid you!

Duen. Fly where you will, I'll follow you.

Don Jer. Throw your snowy arms about him, Margaret.— [Exeunt ISAAC and DUENNA.] But, Louisa, are you really married to this modest gentleman?

Don. Louisa. Sir, in obedience to your commands, I gave him my hand within this hour.

Don Jer. My commands!

Don Ant. Yes, sir; here is your consent, under your own hand. Don Jer. How! would you rob me of my child by a trick, a false pretence? and do you think to get her fortune by the same means? Why, 'slife, you are as great a rogue as Isaac !

Don Ant. No, Don Jerome; though I have profited by this paper in gaining your daughter's hand, I scorn to obtain her fortune by deceit. There, sir.-[Gives a letter.] Now give her your blessing for a dower, and all the little I possess shall be settled on her in return. Had you wedded her to a prince, he could do no more.

Don Jer. Why, Gad take me, but you are a very extraordinary fellow! But have you the impudence to suppose no one can do a generous action but yourself? Here, Louisa, tell this proud fool of yours that he's the only man I know that would renounce your fortune; and, by my soul, he's the only man in Spain that's worthy of it. There, bless you both: I'm an obstinate old fellow when I'm in the wrong; but you shall now find me as steady in the right.

Enter DON FERDINAND and DONNA CLARA Another wonder still! Why, sirrah! Ferdinand, you have not stole a nun, have you?

Don Ferd. She is a nun in nothing but her habit, sir—look nearer, and you will perceive 'tis Clara d'Almanza, Don Guz

man's daughter; and, with pardon for stealing a wedding, sho is also my wife.

Don Jer. Gadsbud, and a great fortune! Ferdinand, you are a prudent young rogue, and I forgive you: and, ifecks, you are a pretty little damsel. Give your father-in-law a kiss, you

smiling rogue !

Don. Clara There, old gentleman; and now mind you behave well to us.

Don Jer. Ifecks, those lips ha'n't been chilled by kissing beads! Egad, I believe I shall grow the best-humoured fellow in Spain. Lewis! Sancho! Carlos! d'ye hear? are all my doors thrown open? Our children's weddings are the only holidays our age can boast; and then we drain, with pleasure, the little stock of spirits time has left us.-[Music within.] But see, here come our friends and neighbours!

Enter MASQUERADERS.

And, i'faith, we 'll make a night on't, with wine, and dance, and catches-then old and young shall join us.

Don Jer...

FINALE.

Come now for jest and smiling,
Both old and young beguiling,

Let us laugh and play, so blithe and gay,
Till we banish care away.

Don. Louisa. Thus crown'd with dance and song,

Don Ferd.

.

Don Art.

The hours shall glide along,

With a heart at ease, merry, merry glees
Can never fail to please.

Each bride with blushes glowing,

Our wine as rosy flowing,

Let us laugh and play, so blithe and gay,
Till we banish care away.

Then healths to every friend
The night's repast shall end,

With a heart at ease, merry, merry glees
Can never fail to please.

Don. Clara, Nor, while we are so joyous,
Shall anxious fear annoy us;

Don Jer.

Let us laugh and play, so blithe and gay,
Till we banish care away.

For generous guests like these

Accept the wish to please,

So we'll laugh and play, so blithe and gay,
Your smiles drive care away.

[Exeunt omnes:

THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL.

A COMEDY.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT DRURY-LANE THEATRE IN 1777.

SIR PETER TEAZLE Mr. King.
SIR OLIVER SURFACE Mr. Yates.
SIR HARRY BUMPER. Mr. Gawdry.
SIR BENJAMIN BACK-

BITE

JOSEPH SURFACE

CHARLES SURFACE
CARELESS.
SNAKE.

Mr. Dodd.

Mr. Palmer.

Mr. Smith.
Mr. Farren.

Mr. Packer.

CRABTREE

ROWLEY
MOSES.
TRIP

LADY TEAZLE

Mr. Parsons.

Mr. Aickin.

Mr. Baddeley.

Mr. Lamash.

Mrs. Abington.

LADY SNEERWELL Miss Sherry.
MRS. CANDOUR Miss Pope.
MARIA

Miss P. Hopkins.

Gentlemen, Maid, and Servants.

SCENE.-LONDON.

A PORTRAIT;

ADDRESSED TO MRS. CREWE, WITH THE COMEDY OF THE SCHOOL

FOR SCANDAL.

BY R. B. SHERIDAN, ESQ.

TELL me, ye prim adepts in Scandal's school,
Who rail by precept, and detract by rule,
Lives there no character, so tried, so known,
So deck'd with grace, and so unlike your own,
That even you assist her fame to raise,
Approve by envy, and by silence praise !
Attend!-a model shall attract your view-
Daughters of calumny, I summon you!
You shall decide if this a portrait prove,
Or fond creation of the Muse and Love.
Attend, ye virgin critics, shrewd and sage,
Ye matron censors of this childish age,
Whose peering eye and wrinkled front declare
A fix'd antipathy to young and fair;
By cunning, cautious; or by nature, cold,
In maiden madness, virulently bold!-
Attend, ye skill'd to coin the precious tale,
Creating proof, where inuendos fail!
Whose practised memories, cruelly exact,
Omit no circumstance, except the fact !-
Attend, all ye who boast,— -or old or young,-
The living libel of a slanderous tongue!

So shall my theme as far contrasted be,
As saints by fiends, or hymns by calumny.
Come, gentle Amoret (for 'neath that name
In worthier verse is sung thy beauty's fame);
Come-for but thee who seeks the Muse? and while
Celestial blushes check thy conscious smile,
With timid grace, and hesitating eye,

The perfect model, which I boast, supply:

Vain Muse! couldst thou the humblest sketch create
Of her, or slightest charm couldst imitate-
Could thy blest strain in kindred colours trace
The faintest wonder of her form and face-
Poets would study the immortal line,
And Reynolds own his art subdued by thine;
That art, which well might added lustre give
To Nature's best, and Heaven's superlative:
On Granby's cheek might bid new glories rise,
Or point a purer beam from Devon's eyes!
Hard is the task to shape that beauty's praise,
Whose judgment scorns the homage flattery pays!
But praising Amoret we cannot err,

No tongue o'ervalues Heaven, or flatters her!
Yet she by fate's perverseness-she alone

Would doubt our truth, nor deem such praise her ow

Adorning fashion, unadorn'd by dress,

Simple from taste, and not from carelessness;

Discreet in gesture, in deportment mild,

Not stiff with prudence, nor uncouthly wild:
No state has Amoret; no studied mien;

She frowns no goddess, and she moves no queen.
The softer charm that in her manner lies
Is framed to captivate, yet not surprise;
It justly suits the expression of her face,-
"Tis less than dignity, and more than grace!
On her pure cheek the native hue is such,
That, form'd by Heaven to be admired so much,
The hand divine, with a less partial care,
Might well have fix'd a fainter crimson there,
And bade the gentle inmate of her breast-
Inshrined Modesty-supply the rest.
But who the peril of her lips shall paint?
Strip them of smiles-still, still all words are faiz
But moving Love himself appears to teach
Their action, though denied to rule her speech;
And thou who seest her speak, and dost not hear,
Mourn not her distant accents 'scape thine ear;
Viewing those lips, thou still may'st make pretence
To judge of what she says, and swear 'tis sense:
Clothed with such grace, with such expression fraught,
They move in meaning, and they pause in thought!

But dost thou farther watch, with charm'd surprise, The mild irresolution of her eyes,

Curious to mark how frequent they repose,

In brief eclipse and momentary close-
Ah! seest thou not an ambush'd Cupid there,
Too tim'rous of his charge, with jealous care
Veils and unveils those beams of heavenly light,
Too full, too fatal else, for mortal sight?
Nor yet, such pleasing vengeance fond to meet,
In pard'ning dimples hope a safe retreat.

What though her peaceful breast should ne'er allow
Subduing frowns to arm her alter'd brow,
By Love, I swear, and by his gentle wiles,
More fatal still the mercy of her smiles!
Thus lovely, thus adorn'd, possessing all
Of bright or fair that can to woman fall,
The height of vanity might well be thought
Prerogative in her, and Nature's fault.
Yet gentle Amoret, in mind supreme
As well as charms, rejects the vainer theme;
And, half mistrustful of her beauty's store,

She barbs with wit those darts too keen before:-
Read in all knowledge that her sex should reach,

Though Greville, or the Muse, should deign to teach,
Fond to improve, nor timorous to discern
How far it is a woman's grace to learn;
In Millar's dialect she would not prove
Apollo's priestess, but Apollo's love,

Graced by those signs which truth delights to own,
The timid blush, and mild submitted tone:
Whate'er she says, though sense appear throughout,
Displays the tender hue of female doubt;
Deck'd with that charm, how lovely wit appears,
How graceful science, when that robe she wears!
Such too her talents, and her bent of mind,
As speak a sprightly heart by thought refined:
A taste for mirth, by contemplation school'd,
A turn for ridicule, by candour ruled,
A scorn of folly, which she tries to hide;
An awe of talent, which she owns with pride!

Peace, idle Muse! no more thy strain prolong,
But yield a theme, thy warmest praises wrong;
Just to her merit, though thou canst not raise
Thy feeble verse, behold th' acknowledged praise
Has spread conviction through the envious train,
And cast a fatal gloom o'er Scandal's reign!
And lo! each pallid hag, with blister'd tongue,
Mutters assent to all thy zeal has sung-
Owns all the colours just-the outline true;
Thee my inspirer, and my model-CREWE