REMARKS ON

WOMAN'S WILL.

THIS piece is more in the true old-fashioned style of comedy, than any thing which we have yet published. Our readers will see in it traces of that vigorous control of natural incidents, which characterises the comic dramas of the London stage of the days of Queen Anne and of George I. Its greatest fault, perhaps, is in its excess of comic matter. Every character is drawn out so fully, that each of them might do for the hero or heroine of a modern play, and every scene has so much of the genuine equivoque of comedy, that any dramatic play-wright, belonging to either of the two great theatres, might naturally think the least contained solid bullion enough to work out into five acts of the flimsy stuff of the present fashion. And yet, although it is unquestionably an excellent comedy, we doubt if it would succeed in representation according to the opinion of the managers of Covent Garden Theatre, or serve the concern of Drury Lane in the notions of the occult sub-committee of that

thriving establishment. The time, however, is coming round when on the stage, as well as in the world, the good old fashions of wiser times will be restored. Miss O'Neill and Kean will wear thread-bare even the best of the antient dramas, and the monopolists will be compelled to have recourse at last to authors capable of furnishing something suitable to the sane and rational taste which those two admirable performers are so rapidly reviving.

No. XIV. N. Br. Th.

VOL. IV.

K

HORTENSIA,

(2-6)

A Tragedy,

IN FIVE ACTS.

HORTENSIA.

ACT I.

SCENE I. A Forest. A Dark and Stormy Night. [Enter LEOPOLD and ALBERTINA.]

Alb. (Clinging round her brother.) Oh save me, Leopold! the storm increases,

Fierce strive contending winds,-the tempest roars,

With terror-striking violence!

Leop.

My Albertina!

Close to my bosom, thus I still embrace thee,
And all of shelter that I can, I give.

Surely Hortensia's spirit in this whirlwind,

Now rages to destroy us.

Alb.

Silence, Leopold,

Tremble to sound that name, for Demons know it;

They are about us now,-the lightning's glare
May give us to their view;-can we not quit
This gloomy forest? not far distant

Stands the poor cottage of the good Palemon ;-
Hark! heaven have mercy! on the crackling branches
The thunderbolt has fallen ;

E'en these tall trees, which tower above our heads,
May to destruction turn their present shelter.

Leop. Support her sinking spirits, gracious Heaven!

O cheer thee, Albertina! yet be firm,

Give not our enemies their wished for triumph;
And see, the dawn appears; its hope-fraught light
Now to my aching eyeballs shows the path

We must pursue, that leads to old Palemon's:
Nor is the cottage distant-Cheer thee then

With thoughts of present shelter-Well thou know'st
The good old forester-his pitying heart,
His hospitable door, to the distress'd

Are ever open.

[Exeunt.