falling fast asleep. This majestic Scene is too exactly copied from a Trial at the Old Bailey, to have even the Merit of Originality. And indeed it is to the Lenity of the King of Portugal that we owe by far the greater Part of this amazing Play. The good Man lets his rebellious Subjects out of Prison to chat with him, when a wiser Monarch would have kept them close confined in Newgate. The incomparable Action of that universal Genius Mr. Garrick alone, saved this Act from the Damnation it deserved. Had not he, like a second ?neas, carried the old doating and decrepid Father on his Back, he must have lain by the Way. Tho' we must observe another Character in this Play seemed better suited to the Impetuosity and Fire of this Actor. We could not but smile at the Humour of a merry Wag in the Pit, who at the Conclusion of one of the most tiresome Pleadings, with some Degree of Impatience and Emotion called out, Encore, encore.
In the fifth Act we were melted with the Sight of two young Children which the King embraced, which the Prince embraced, which Elvira embraced. Mr. Addison in the 44th No. of the Spectator, has some Remarks so judicious and lively on the Practice of introducing Children on the Stage, that we must beg leave to transcribe the Passage.
"A disconsolate Mother with a Child in her Hand, has frequently drawn Compassion from the Audience, and has therefore gained a Place in several Tragedies; a modern Writer who observed how this had taken in other Plays, being resolved to double the Distress, and melt his Audience twice as much as those before him had done, brought a Princess on the Stage with a little Boy in one Hand, and a Girl in the other. A third Poet being resolved to out-write all his Predecessors, a few Years ago introduced three Children with great Success; and as I am informed a young Gentleman who is fully determined to break the most obdurate Heart, has a Tragedy by him where the first Person that appears on the Stage is an afflicted Widow, in her mourning Weeds, with half a dozen fatherless Children attending her, like those that usually hang about the Figure of Charity. Thus several Incidents that are beautiful in a good Writer become ridiculous by falling into the Hands of a bad one."
We would suggest to Mr. Malloch the useful Hint of introducing in some of his future Productions, the whole Foundling Hospital, which with a well painted Scene of the Edifice itself would certainly call forth the warmest Tears of Pity, and the bitterest Emotions of Distress; especially when we consider that many of the Parents of these unfortunate Babes would probably be Spectators of this interesting Scene.
The Conclusion of the Piece is as abrupt as the other Parts of it are absurd. We should be much at a Loss to guess by whom the Poison is administered to Elvira, were we not aided in our Conjectures by the shrewd Suspicions which the King, tho' otherwise a very loving Husband, seems to entertain of his Wife. Upon my regreting that her Majesty, if guilty, should escape without poetical Justice at least, a Gentleman who sat behind me, a Friend as I supposed of the Author, assured me her Punishment was reserved for the Farce, which for that Purpose was, contrary to Custom, added to the Play.[C]
Though in general this Tragedy is colder than the most extreme Parts of Nova Zembla,[D] yet we now and then feel a Warmth, but it is such a Warmth or Glow rather, as is sometimes produced by the Handling of Snow.
Bad as this Play is, yet will the Author have the Profits of his Three Nights: Few on the First Night having either Taste or Spirit to express their Disapprobation. Like the Rascals who plundered Lisbon after the Earthquake, Mr. David Malloch will extract Guineas out of Rubbish.
We shall now give, in a few Words, the Quintessence of this Play. Monarchs ought to be just. Heroes are bad Men. Husbands ought to die for their Wives, Wives for their Husbands. We ought to govern our Passions. And the Sun shines on all alike. A few of these new Remarks form the Sum total of this contemptible Piece.
After the Play we were entertained with an Epilogue fraught with Humour, and spoken with Spirit. There was a Simile of a Bundle of Twigs formed into a Rod, which seemed to convey a delicate Allusion to Mr. Malloch's original Profession,[E] and some of the Lines contained an exquisite and severe Criticism on the Play itself.
Amidst all the harshness inspired by a real Feeling of the Dulness of the Composition itself, it would be unjust not to
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