[Thumb is thrown out of the Cow's mouth, and starts fiercely.]

Act 2. Sc. 4.

NOTWITHSTANDING Dr. Johnson's declaration that he could not regard a prose tragedy as dramatic, the merits of The Gamester and the present piece, appear almost to prove that, if the subject be of a domestic nature, metre is not essential to either excellence or success. The language of this drama is sufficiently exalted for the expression of the sentiments of the several characters, who are all designed from ordinary life: but by such as desire historical propriety, it will probably be censured as too modern; because in Scene 1, the time is stated to be the year when Walsingham contrived to delay the sailing of the Spanish Armada for more than a twelvemonth, by procuring Sutton and other English merchants to have the King of Spain's bills protested at Genoa, about 1586. Though this Tragedy doubtless relates a fact which might then have occurred, the actual circumstances remain still undiscovered; the author having taken his plot from a popular tale in verse, printed as early as the middle of the seventeenth century, entitled An excellent Ballad of George Barnwell, an Apprentice of London, who thrice robbed his Master, and murdered his Uncle in Ludlow.-The Tune is The Merchant. Lillo's scene, however, is "London and an adjacent village,” and tradition has long reported the spot to be Camberwell-Grove.

This pathetic drama was first performed by the Summer-Company of actors at Drury-Lane, June 22nd, 1731; and, perhaps, the tune of the old ballad suggested the original announcement of A New Play called The Merchant, or the True History of George Barnwell: which, on the second night, the 25th, was altered to The London Merchant, or the True Story of George Barnwell; under which title it was played 17 times almost without intermission, in a very hot season. It excited such universal attention, that on Friday, July 2nd, the Queen sent for the manuscript, which Wilks carried to Hampton-Court.

Mrs. Cibber was the first performer of Maria, and delivered the Epilogue; Mrs. Butler was Millwood, and Theophilus Cibber spake the Prologue, and was the original George Barnwell; but though these were all highly admired, the most honourable applause was that given in 1752, to Ross and Mrs. Pritchard, whose impressive performance awakened and preserved a young man in the same circumstances as Barnwell. The fact is related in a letter from the eccentric Dr. Barrowby to Ross; who added, that for nine or ten years he regularly received at his benefit, a note with ten guineas sealed up, sent from one whom his excellent acting had saved from ruin.

Barnwell. I groan, but murmur not. Just heaven! I am your own; do with me what you please.

Maria. Why are your streaming eyes still fixed below, as though thou'dst give the greedy earth thy sorrows, and rob me of my due? Were happiness within your power, you should bestow it where you pleased; but in your misery I must and will partake.

Barnwell. Do I still breathe, and taint with my infectious breath the wholesome air? Let heaven from it's high throne, in justice or in mercy, now look down on that dear, murdered, saint, and me the murderer, and if his vengeance spare, let pity strike, and end my wretched being!

Act 3. Sc. 4.

THE DEVIL TO PAY:

A BALLAD-Farce, alteRED FROM CHARLES COFFEY.

IT has been asserted that the original story of this piece, and even some
of the names, are to be found in a very ancient Danish romance; but the
ordinary account of it's derivation is, that from the episode of Mopsa in
Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia, Thomas Jevon, assisted, perhaps, by Shadwell,
wrote his Devil of a Wife, in Three Acts, performed at the Duke's Theatre in
Dorset-Gardens in 1686, which was altered into the Ballad-Opera of The
Devil to Pay by Coffey and John Mottley, by the addition of Songs, each
undertaking an act and a half. Their version was produced by the Summer-
Company at Drury-Lane, August 6th, 1731, as avowedly taken from Jevon's
play, with a new Prologue: but the announcement that "tickets delivered
out in the author's name, will be taken any night this Opera is performed,"
perhaps indicated that it's success was somewhat doubtful; though it was
added that printed books of it would be published on Tuesday, the 10th,
and sold in the Theatre. Some parts of the performance, however, gave
great offence, especially the character of a non-conforming clergyman, Chap-
lain to Lady Loverule; some of whose speeches still retain a few puritanical
sentences. The piece, therefore, appears to have been played only three
nights, the first season; and the very evening on which it was advertised for
publication, there was no performance, the day of playing having been
changed from Tuesday to Wednesday, "at the desire of several worthy
citizens:" whilst the next pieces announced were George Barnwell, and a
revival of Gay's What d'ye Call It? though it is added, that "tickets deli-
vered out for the Devil to Pay will be taken at this play." Theophilus
Cibber then reduced it to it's present form of One Act, omitting the objec-
tionable character, and, adding one song by his father, Colley Cibber, and
another by Lord Rochester, written fifty years previous, he gave it the mo-
dern second title of The Wives Metamorphosed, and re-produced it at Drury-
Lane, October 2nd, 1731, when it was acted 52 nights the same season.
The original performer of Jobson was Harper, a coarse comedian of great
humour, and leader of a strolling company well known at the old English
fairs, and his acting greatly advanced him both in reputation and salary.
Nell was first played by Miss Raftor, more famous as Kitty Clive, who was
also indebted to her part for the rise of her notoriety, and for the doubling
of her salary; but the talents of the late Mrs. Jordan in the same character
were certainly equal to those of any actress who preceded her. She first
appeared in it at Drury-Lane, in October, 1788, for her own benefit.

Jobson. This is more than ever I saw by her, I never had an ill word from her before. Come, strap, I'll try your mettle; I'll sober you, I warrant you, quean. [He straps her; she flies at him. Lady Loverule. I'll pull your throat out! I'll tear out your eyes! I am a lady, sirrah. Oh murder! murder! Sir John Loverule will hang

you for this. Murder! murder!

Scene 5.

Nell. What pleasant dreams I have had to-night! Methought I was in Paradise, upon a bed of violets and roses, and the sweetest husband by my side! Ha! bless me! where am I now? What sweets are these? No garden in the spring can equal them.-Am I on a bed?-The sheets are sarsenet, sure; no linen ever was so fine.-What a gay silken robe have I got-Oh heaven! I dream!-Yet, if this be a dream, I would not wish to wake again. Sure I died last night, and went to heaven, and this is it. Scene 6.