cafions, difcover a ftrong understanding; but his difcernment is frequently blunted by prejudice; and a mutability of fentiment, to which he seems peculiarly prone, diminishes the credit, that might otherwife have been due to his opinions and judgment.

A Day in Turkey; or, the Ruffian Slaves. A Comedy, as acted at the Theatre Royal, in Covent Garden. By Mrs. Cowley. 8vo. Is. 6d. Robinfons. 1792.

MRS. Cowley's plays have been in general diftinguished for the ease, the sprightlinefs, and the naiveté of the dialogue. The characters have feldom been new or ftriking, and, if we found fome additional feature as a mark to diftinguish any one from the common herd, it was the principal novelty that we could difcover. Yet, with a flight plot, and no uncommon characters, fhe has often amufed the chearlefs hour, and received her full fhare of applaufe: we mean not to recall or disapprove of the commendation we have bestowed: we wish not to take one from the number of plaudits. In tendernefs, we endeavour to forget her tragical efforts.

To fail in the later attempts has been the fortune of many dramatic authors of confiderable merit; nor muft Mrs. Cowley expect to be exempted from human frailties. Lively dialogue is, perhaps, one of the tendereft flowers. The air will tarnish its florid hue, and all-devouring time destroy its fragrance. Our author should, perhaps, have ftopped fooner, and neither have given room for the former imputations of fupplying wit by indelicacy; nor, for what we are compelled to fay of the play before us, that the fpirit and ease are too apparently affumed, that puns and equivoques are brought to fupply the place of wit and humour.

The Preface might have been omitted: it is only intended as an apology for the introduction of politics. The fentiments of A la Greque are thofe of a democrat; Mrs. Cowley should not have faid, of an emigrant Frenchman,' fince that term is fo generally applied to the oppofite party. But politics, the adds, are unfeminine, apologifing at the fame time to Mifs Woolftonecraft, 'whose book, the fays, contains fuch a bedy of mind, as the hardly ever met with.' Duval's two ponderous folios of Ariftotle's works lie now before us, and perhaps thofe may be ftyled a body of mind'-but to contain a body of mind!-No; the phrafe can never be current on this fide of St. George's Channel.

The plot of the play is of fo flight a texture that we fear almoft to touch it. A Ruffian was married, his wife seized on her wedding-day; and he, in pursuit of her, enacting prodi Z 2

gies

gies of valour, as all knight-errants do, when they are defpe rately in love, or feel fevere difappointment, is taken prifoner by the Turk who had purchafed his Alexina. Ibrahim, the mafter of Alexina, fees Paulina, another new flave, who has not the fame reafon to fhun him, marries her, and Orloff departs peace with his bride. The conduct of fuch a ftory cannot be the fubject of animadverfion, and the perfons reprefented are good Ruffians and Turks-in name. A la Greque fpeaks in character; and, if to be a Frenchman is to be impertinent and abfurd, our author may be faid to have fucceeded in this refpect. These are, however, the fuggeftions only of an attentive perufal; on the stage it may be an entertaining performance.

We fhall felect one fcene as a fpecimen of Mrs. Cowley's ftyle of humour: it is not one of the worft in this perform

ance.

• Enter Orloff, furrounded by Turks.

Muley. Courageous Ruffian, thou art ours! Could valour have faved thee, captivity and you had never met-Your emprels, we truft, has not many fuch foldiers in the neighbouring camp.Come, droop not, Sir, this is the fortune of war.

Orloff. Had I been made your prifoner, whilt on a pot of duty, I could have borne my lot-A foldier can fupport not only death, but even flavery, when a fenfe of duty gives dignity to his chains; but my chains are bafe ones, for I reconnoiter'd without command, and have lost my liberty without glory.

A la Gr. Then I have loft my liberty too without glory, for I attended you without command, and now-Oh, le diable! I am valet de chambre to a flave!

Turk. Let not that affect thee! The fortune of war, which has wounded your master's pride, ought to elate yours, for you are now his equal-both flaves alike.

A la Gr. [Eagerly.] Are we fo? And has he no farther right to command me, nor threaten me? Kind fir, tell me but thattell me but that -!

• Turk. None, none.

A la Gr. Hum! [Puts his hat on, and takes out his snuff box, takes fnuf, then goes to his mafter, and offers his box.] Take a pinch, don't be thy.

Orloff. Scoundrel! [7brows up the box with bis arm.]

A la Gr. Nay, no hard names-let us be civil to each other, as brother flaves ought to be-And now I think of it-Hark ye! I fuppofe your flaves take rank according to their usefulness.

Turk. Certainly.

C A la Gr. Well then, my mafter-I mean that man there, who was my mafter, can do no earthly thing but fight, whilft I, on the contrary, am expert at feveral.

• Muley

Muley. Your qualifications?

Ala Gr. They are innumerable-I can fing you pretty little French airs, and Italian canzonettas-No man in Paris, fir-for I have the honour to be a Frenchman-No man in Paris underftands the fcience of the powder-puff better than myself - I can frize you in a taste beyond-Oh, what you are all crops, I feefore fronts, and back fronts-Oh, thofe vile turbans, my genius will be loft amongst you, and a frizeur will be of no more use than an oyster-woman-Why, you look as though you had all been fcalp'd, and cover'd your crowns with your pillows.

Turk. Chriftian, our turbans are too elevated a fabject for your sport.

A la Gr. Dear fir, [pointing to his turban, and then to the ground] drop the fubject, it will be a proof cf national taste.

'Muley. Thy fpeech is licentious and empty; but in a Frenchman we can pardon it—'tis national tafte-However, if your boaft ed qualifications end here, it is probable, you will be a slave as little diftinguifh'd as your mafter.

A la Gr. Pardonnez moi! I can do things he never thought of-You have heard the ftory of the basket-maker amongst savages? I do not defpair of feeing my mafter my fervant yet-Courage, monfieur le compte! I'll treat you with great condefcenfion, depend on't, and endeavour to make you forget in all things the dif tance between us.

Muley. He feems too deeply abforb'd in melancholy, to be roused by thy impertinence!

A la Gr. Poor young man! Times are alter'd, to be fure; and at prefent he's a little down in the mouth; but he's fond of mufic, cheer him with a Turkish air-Helas! all the air we have will be Turkish now.

Orloff. Ah no! forbear your mufic, and bring me your chains! Drag me to your dungeons! The intellectual bitterness of this moment cannot be increased by outward circumftance.

A la Gr. Chains and dungeons! Why fure the ghost of our dead Baftille has not found its way hither - Hey, mefieurs! Have you lantern pofs too, and hanging marquiffes in this country? Orloff. [angrily.] Peace!

Ala Gr. Peace! That's a bold demand.-Your emprefs can't find it at the head of a hundred thousand men, and the most fublime grand fignior is obliged to put on his night-cap without it, though he has a million of thefe pretty gentlemen to affist hirBefides, England has engross'd the commodity.

Orloff. Come, fir, let us not loiter here I would have my fate determined, and my misery complete. Alas! is it not a ready fo? Yes, my heart has been long the property of forro and it will never relinquish its claims.

Muley. I fhall lead you to the palace of the baffa Ibrahim-it is in the neighbourhood of yonder camp which he commands, what your fate may then be, his humour determines.

A la Gr. Then I hope we fhall catch him in a good humour, and what care I whether a Turk or a Ruffian has the honour to be my mafter? Now you fee the misfortune of being born a count! Had he loft no more than I have, he'd be as careless as I am→→→ Come, brother flave-no ceremony, no ceremony, I beg.

[Exeunt-A ia Greque pulls back his mafter, and walks out be fore him.'

The Road to Ruin. A Comedy. As it is acted at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden. By T. Holcroft. 8vo. 1s. 6d. Debrett. 1792.

MR.

R. Holcroft has been a fuccefsful adventurer on the stage, and the prefent comedy fhows that his fpirit and inven tion have not yet declined. The events of the comedy are varied, the dialogue lively, the characters difcriminated, and the minuter traits of the heart developed with skill. Impartial criticism must, however, add, that the plot is a common one: no intrigue is artfully inveloped, no reverse of fortune fixes the attention by the unexpected change of fituation; fome of the characters are coloured too frongly; and Harry Dornton, who reminds us of the giddy thoughtlefs Harry Chesterfield, in Mrs. Smith's laft novel, is too often on the brink of incon fiftency. The denouement, it may be alfo obferved, is obvioufly an imitation of that of the Weft Indian.

Harry Dornton is the fon of an eminent banker, a partner in the banking-house, and, from gambling, truly in the Road to Ruin.' His father, good-natured, kind, and indulgent, does not check his fon's follies till his debts have been almoft fatal to himself; and then, with the inconfiftency which affection ftruggling with refentment muft produce, checks them imperfectly, and with an occafionally remitted feverity. The friend of Harry Dornton is Jack Milford, the natural fon of the widow Warren's laft hufband. By a former marriage fhe has a daughter called Sophia, a lively girl juft emerging from the controul of her grandmother, and for the first time in London at the dangerous age of feventeen; but fenfible, chea ful, and benevolent.

Such is nearly the fituation of the circumftances at the commencement of the comedy. Mr. Dornton refufes his fon admittance into the house; and, with his ufual inconfiftency, at laft grants it. Jack Milford accompanies him; and we find that his father's will, long fuppofed to be loft, is difcovered in a private drawer, and fent to England, (for he is represented

to

to have died on the continent) by a gentleman who has not yet produced it; as well as that the artlefs tendernefs of Sophia had made an equal impreffion on the heart of Harry Dornton. But ruin haftens on; and the heart of Harry, truly affectionate to his father, feels feverely the confequences of his indiferetion. In a moment of contrition, he refolves to offer his hand to the fuperannuated coquettish widow, who accepts of him with a fatisfaction fcarcely diffembled: the innocent refentment of Sophy Freelove is well drawn, and the abfurdity of the widow represented in colours not unfuitable to the indelicacy of her conduct. Her other lover (for the reputation of her immenfe fortune did not make a fingle impreffion only) is a modern jockey, a character we fufpect, yet in this age of extravagance we fpeak with referve and diffidence, rather overcharged. This gambling racer meets with an infamous ufurer, who offers his affiftance for the moderate fum of 50,000 pounds, with a promife of certainly prevailing on the widow to marry him. The fecret influence appears to be his poffeffing the will of her late hufband, which was brought to him by mistake: his name Silky refembling fo nearly that of the real executor Sulky, the partner of Mr. Dornton. While this infamous bargain was tranfacting, Milford and Sulky, who had been led to suspect the intrigue by the indifcretion of Goldfinch, the gambling jockey, conceal themselves in a closet, and burst into the room at the moment of the conclufion. The event is easily conjectured, and each party rendered equally happy by what they lofe, as well as what they gain, except Goldfinch and the widow.-The fubordinate circumftances we need not mention; nor are they all deferving of our praife. The abfurd, extravagant benevolence of Harry, in giving Jack Milford the money faved by his father in the impending ruin of the bank, faved for the purpose of reimburfing the widow the fum given for his relief, when the marriage was defigned, may be excufed by the admirers of a fimilar unjustifiable generofity in the popular character, Charles Surface, but it can never be approved of by the cooler reader. The duel also is too fentimental to deserve much commendation.-The firft fcene introduces the father with great propriety and force.

• Mr. Dornton alone. Paft two o'clock and not yet returned! Well, well!—It's my own fault!—Mr. Smith!

Mr. Smith. Sir.

Enter Mr. Smith.

• Dornton. Is Mr. Sulky come in?

• Mr. Smith. No, fir.

Dornton. Are you fure Harry Dornton said he should return to

night?