A Scotsman's remarks on the farce of Love a la mode, scene by scene.:

A Scotsman's Remarks, &c.

WITHOUT any ostentatious display of the origin of Comedy or Farce, as is but too usual among prosessed pamphleteers, I shall confine this criticism solely to the piece in question, Love à la Mode.

The business of it, in the sense of Ho|race, is a subject publici juris, a common and obvious one to all writers, and will remain so to the end of time; to wit, a young lady's being courted by a number of contrasted lovers, whose characters, from their discordance with each other, are to furnish out the comic enter|tainment.

Of this kind we have several on the English, besides those on other theatres

of Europe; viz. MISS LUCY IN TOWN, MISS IN HER TEENS, &C.

And yet an author may derive merit from this subject of common right, as we may call it, in proportion as he shall in|troduce personages of an higher rank of life, more elegant colouring, and a quite novel complexion.

Whenever this shall be executed, it is to be looked upon as the work of true ge|nius; but when fallen short of, as often happens, it is to be deemed the impotent effort of the hard-bound brains of low pla|giaries, whose memory is filled with the shreds and ill-chosen scraps of other mens wit.

In which of these two classes the author of Love à la Mode is to be ranked, will appear from the subsequent remarks; whom, however, the most inveterate ene|mies he has, cannot refuse being guilty of modesty and gratitude on this occasion—Of modesty in not publishing; and of gratitude in not giving his generous benefactors oc|casion of repenting their having patronized such coarse, inaccurate scenes, and so af|frontful to themselves.

To proceed methodically, let us first examine into the propriety of the cha|racters of his drama; and, secondly, how he has conducted the whole, and how brought on and carried off his people.

The DRAMATIS PERSONAE are,

• Sir THEODORE GOODCHILD, a wealthy merchant of London.
• MORDECAI, a wealthy Jew fop.
• Sir ARCHIBALD M'SARCASM, a Scotch knight.
• Sir CALLAGHAN O BRALLAGHAN, an Irish officer in the Prussian service.
• GROOME, an English esquire, fond of race-horses, &c.
• CHARLOTTE, a young lady of a con|siderable fortune, and the ward of Sir Theodore.

Propriety of characters, for the present purpose, may be divided into two sorts— The one to make them act and speak in every thing suitably to their intended pur|pose, untainted by any peculiarly vicious manner of country or education.—The other is, when the character is made to

result intirely from a provincial dialect, and local manners.

The chief mongrel characters of this farce are a monstrous compound of both. There is nothing merely national in either the Scotch or Irish man, but an apeing of the vulgar accent of both-nations, with a few strained (not natural) blunders in the Hibernian hero's mouth, since such the author has been pleased to constitute him.

The character of M' Sarcasm is some|what of Rancune's cast in the comic ro|mance written by the facetious Scarron.— He is a rascal in every sense, who delights in flattering all present, man or woman, to his or her face, shrugging contempt at them at the same time, when they turn their backs, and tearing them to pieces when absent.

This character is the produce of every climate; and the Irish in general, if we take their own words for it (I mean no national reflection, for that I scorn) implead them|selves for a too general tendency to de|traction, and to the first comer; whereas the Scots, are very cautious to whom they)

disclose their disadvantageous opinions of any person.

Sir Callaghan O Brallaghan is made a Prussian officer, to introduce him under that passport more favourably to the crowd, If the author had chosen it, he might with•••••• much justice, and perhaps more, have in|troduced a Scotsman in that service, there being no corps of either nation in it, as in France; and that moreover there was in favour of the North Briton, his brave countryman general Keith, who had long shared the favour, assisted in the councils, and ultimately fallen in the service of Prussia's ever-glorious monarch.

It sure then ill becomes any assumed character of officership in that heroic ser|vice, to squint the least, however indi|rectly, against Scotch valour, which is im|pudently done more than once in this farce.

An Irish officer in the French, Spanish or Austrian service, would have been more agreeable to the general received notions of mankind. But such an incoherent med|ley of heroism and stupidity as O Brallag|han is dished out here by his countryman, ••••ver has been exhibited before, nor ought

to be borne by any audience that would lay a claim to rationality.

Mordecai the beau Jew is no-body, a mere expletive foot-ball persona, to be made a cat's paw of, to be abused, in|sulted, and have jokes cracked upon him.

Squire Groome is no national characte|ristic of England, but a general represen|tative of any person of the three king|doms, who likes horse-racing, drinking, &c. preferably to any other happiness; but why he should be the type of the English nation, I cannot see, and therefore leave it to the very jumbling author to explain in the best manner he can; for objects receive strange aspects, as they pass through the camera obscura of his in|tellect.

Sir Theodore Goodchild, as well as his ward Charlotte, are two very silly schemers, considering how the world is at present situated, and that all marriages are rather the objects of prudence than passion. We are not Arcadian shepherds either in this or the next island.

As I am but lately come from Scotland, the first view I had of Love à la Mode was

on Saturday se'nnight, when a young gen|tleman who sat near me in the pit, was pleased to inform me that it had been much shortened, and altered for the better since the first performance of it. That, moreover, it used at first to be preceded by a plaintive prologue, spoken, as was sup|posed, by a water-nymph, or one like Niobé, all tears, to deprecate the public's resentment from the vile stuff that was to, be presented; nay, he added, it was not unlike a child's endeavouring with sobs and tears to conciliate the favour of an incensed public in the behalf of a sinful but repent|ing parent.

The piece opens by Sir Theodore and Charlotte's having agreed to lay a scheme to try which of her lovers was the most sincere, by their declaring after dinner that he was a bankrupt, &c. and she ruined of consequence.—A pretty amusement for a wealthy merchant, and an experiment that few young ladies of fortune ought to try now-a-days, however great their me|rit; nay, even granting that of their suitor and his having strong affections for them.

There are family reasons, such as the providing for the younger children, &c. which would prove often insurmountable obstacles, where poverty should really be presented in the place of an expected large fortune.

She gives to her guardian, as if he had neither known nor seen them before, a respective description of her woers.—If it was meant to inform the audience, it is stupid enough; that is like prefixing an explanatory argument to a play: their ap|pearance and business is to let the audi|ence into the secret of what they are; which accounts should ever be shortly done, and to those supposed not to have had any prior knowledge.

That given of the Jew beau Mordecai, as well as the treatment of him through-out, is idly and grosly insulting a body of people, since the Jew-act has not taken place, and who ought to meet with better treatment from a man who owed his get|ing any footing on the stage to the sup|position of his having well represented one of their community.

That given of M'Sarcasm is partly al|ready hinted at, with his being vain-glo|rious of the antiquity of his family.

That of 'Squire Groome gives but a very faint idea of what the actor's excellence displays.

The picture drawn of the Irish hero is rather that of a bully than a brave officer; nor is either wrote up, nor consequently acted up to. He is described with a high-cocked hat, long sword, short-skirted coat, and affecting a tremendous stride; to which the lady adds,

You would think that Mars had been his foster-father, and Bellona his nurse, &c.

there needed only to have been added, that every morn|ing he drank gunpowder tea for his break-fast, and that he swallowed pistol balls, like sugar-plumbs, by way of helping di|gestion.

Yet when Sir Callaghan comes into ac|tion, both his language and demeanor are of the gentlest cast.

Sir Theodore pretends business out, in order to give room for Charlotte's receiv|ing all her lovers before dinner, to which

they had been invited; and are expected, except 'Squire Groome, who was, it seems, engaged in a great horse-match at New-market.

Sir Theodore, on his going out, is met by the first arrived visitor Mordecai, who enters rather like a masquerade buffoon than any thing else, and disgracing Italian airs like a lunatic castrato.

After a few common-place compli|ments, he upon her beauty, she upon his taste, elegance, &c. she accuses him with addressing a certain lady, &c. he expresses great uneasiness to know from whom she had learned it; she tells him from M'Sar|casm.

Here Mordecai adds to the already dis|advantageous character given of the North Briton's, poisonous tongue, by calling him the scandal spreader and Pasquin of the town, and says he is so great a scoundrel no gentleman of his country will keep him company.

This is but a poor salvo—Why then impose all the scoundrelism of the piece upon Scots shoulders? It certainly was by

no means intended as a compliment, but rather as a gross affront to North Britain, as well as the weak designer could exe|cute it.

M'Sarcasm comes into Miss Charlotte's apartment, and though on an intended visit to her, sees Mordecai before the lady (though why we are not told) in order it seems to have a little fun with him—There is great art here!

He then turns to the lady, asks her pardon for not having seen her before (though she was as obvious an object as then) in a very tiresome, drawling, hesi|tating, repeating, and, on the whole, ex|ecrable imitation of the Scots accent, through which breaks out ever and anon the Irish brogue.

Among other things in his very un|couth address, he declares her to be "an epitome of all mentel and bo-de-ly per|fections, and that she is a de-ve-ne-ty." Sir Callaghan O Brallaghan's name being brought on the carpet, M'Sarcasm bids them not to be uneasy about him, that he has brought him along with him; for C 2

that, like the kings of old, he never tra|vels without his f-u-l; and that he has left him writing a love epistle below stairs, which he is sure has not been equalled since the days of Don Q-u-e-x-o-t-e— E—h!

He does not tell us in what apartment below stairs he had left him. This gives a very contemptible idea of the author's hero, that by M'Sarcasm, a known rival's advice, he should misemploy so much time below stairs in penning either a so-net or an ep-i-stle; while the other, during that interval, was making the most of his suit.

Mordecai, desirous to have a slice, as they call it, of the Irishman, by way of a whet before dinner, goes off, and commodiously, to give M'Sarcasm an opportunity of abu|sing all his rivals, which he does e-la-bo-rate-ly.

Squire Groome he represents to her as a man of ruined fortune, a Newmarket sharper, a contemptible jo-key; who would always prefer his horses, &c. to her.

Mordecai, his favourite butt for abuse, he vilisies, among other things, for his complexion, &c.

The Irishman he bids her beware of on account of his being her guardian's ne|phew; whom he insinuates to her he has certain information of having a design upon her fortune.

He lastly comes to himself, and then blazons forth to her the advantages that she will have, though sprung from sugar|hogsheads, rum-puncheons, a compting-house, &c. to be married into an a-nci-ent fe-mi-ly, of which there are four vi-counts, six earls, three marquesses, and twa duks, besides lairds and baronets out of aw re-ch-oning beyond number.—What humming and hawing in this dull, prolix declaration!

Where is the propriety of Charlotte's guardian being uncle to Sir Callaghan? It gives room to suspect; a collusion.

Beau Mordecai, the little Girgeshite, re|turns brimful of joy to tell them the Irish|man is coming. Sir Callaghan whom, from the description given of his person and carriage, one was to expect to see enter the room in a most formidable, swagger|ing

manner, and dealing terror around, on the contrary comes on with all the mild vacancy of looks that denote a good-na|tured, untravelled young man.

He addresses the lady rather with re|spectful bashfulness and timidity than con|formable to the boisterous picture Char|lotte had drawn of him, and up to which his dialogue is not written; so the actor is not at all in fault, but the author is for his inconsistences.

He is asked to indulge the lady with the description of a battle, which he de|clines at first for the reason that he thinks it unbecoming to make mention of such matters before a lady, and that it favours too much of the Fan-sa-ron.

But urged farther he declares to her, "that there is so much doing every where, there is no knowing what is done any where—that every man has so much, busi|ness of his own, he has no time to mind that of his neighbours—that there is such drumming, and shouting, and smoke, and fighting, and the delicious noise of arms, that it is no more possible to give an ac|count

of a battle than of the stars in the firmament."

M'Sarcasm, like another Iago, in order to bring Mordecai into a scrape, eggs him on to put to Sir Callaghan such questions as might the readier provoke his anger.

Mordecai asks in a pert manner, "Pray, Sir Callaghan, how many men may you have killed in your time?"—To which Sir Cal|laghan replies, "More than a coward would choose to eat, or an impertinent fellow would dare to look on—So, are you answered, Mr. Beau Mordecai?"

M'Sarcasm hugs himself with joy at the agreeable notion of Mordecai's running himself into a scrape, which might pro|bably rid him of both rivals—He encou|rages him to go on.

To Mordecai's ridiculous taunting and saying, If he were a general, Sir Callaghan rejoins, turning to the lady, "Look at the general, Madam—it is a trade not so easy to be learned; it requires great ge|nius, as well as being up late and early, enduring the summer's scorching heat and winter's freezing cold; dangers should be

his chief delight, glory ever in view, death his greatest reward, by which he will live for ever."

During this speech the Scot and the Jew are chuckling to each other, the lat|ter bursting into a sit of laughter, cries, "O the bull, a man live by death!"

Sir Callagh. "Yes, Mr. Mordecai, a man live by his death. Is not Julius Caesar, Alexander, and all the other heroes, tho' dead two thousand years ago, alive in his|tory, and will be so to the end of time?— And is not your brave young General, who died for his country's glory before QUE|BEC, as much alive as any of them, and will be so to the end of time?"

This is a mob-timed, nay begging clap|trap, and therefore the lady with a swell|ing breast figures in to this purpose; "All the brave men who perished on that oc|casion must be thought on with applause, while British annals or British gratitude remains."

The Durseys, the Lockmans, the Mac|leanes, and all of that species, are sure of claps by such springes to catch wood|cocks;

but true genius disdains, because the claims it has on same derive from more noble motives.

Opportunely a message comes about dinner, which draws away the Lady and the Jew—M'Sarcasm having represented the latter as a most contemptible being, a rascal, &c. to the Irishman, asks him if he has written the letter, according as he had advised; to the young lady?

Sir Callaghan replies in the negative; but says he has written a letter to the uncle, which, in his sense, will do as well. At this answer M'Sarcasm sniggers to himself, and prays to hear the contents as matter of entertaining curiosity.

Among other articles, O Brallaghan reads in the letter, "nothing is so un|becoming a man of honour as to be|have like a scoundrel;" upon the novelty of which sentiment M'Sarcasm sneeringly compliments him, which the dubbed hero receives kindly.

In the subsequent part of his letter is this paragraph, "bidding him to consi|der the antiquity of the O Brallaghans fa|mily,

as old, nay older than any family in the three kingdoms, or even in Europe, it being related to all the O Sullivans, O Shag|hesesnys, O Flahertys, M'Dermots, M'Clogh|lans, &c."—a thorough Milesian list.

M'Sarcasm objects to the assertion of his family being so ancient, and that when he said so, he must have lost fight of the North Britons, who are the only pure nobility in Great Britain.

O Brallaghan answers, "he knew very well what he had said;" upon which M'Sarcasm insinuates in an angry manner, "that his having said so must be attri|buted to his ignorance and vanity."

O Brallaghan kindles, and says, he does not understand what M' Sarcasm would be at; who says, that O Brallaghan's asser|tion must be ascribed "to his being igno|rant and vain." O Brallaghan in a mild manner declares that M' Sarcasm must eat his words, or give him (0 Brallaghan) satisfaction.

M'Sarcasm, with a violent affectation of irascibility, draws for immediate ac|tion; against which, on account of the

impropriety of the place, O Brallaghan expostulates—But upon M' Sarcasm's in|sisting (from a supposed surmise of his an|tagonist's being shy) O Brallaghan draws, and tells him, that since determined he is as welcome as the flowers in June.

The covert sneer against the brave High|landers before Quebec, is too flagrant.— The whole, of the Irish being called out|casts of the Scots, and the Scots being re|torted as Irishmens bastards, &c. is too vile for criticism.

Upon this scussle, with the usual deco|rum of the rest of the characters enter|ing, comes on alone, unattended by ser|vants, &c. the lady, and asking what's the cause of quarrel, Sir Callaghan answers, It was about M'Sarcasm's grandmother, &c.

The lady having made peace; on which occasion the Scotchman is made the readier to strike: and after bids the Irishman, aside, not to expose himself in speaking about the Belles Lettres, Classics, &c. (of which teague had not mentioned the least word) upon account of the damnable twist upon his tongue.

Sir Callaghan replies (this is one of the scenes like humour) That it is not he, but M'Sarcasm, that has so damned a northern brogue, that nobody can understand him.

For a decision they both apply to the, lady; who answers in so politely cautious a manner, as to make them both happy; and goes off, praying that they will not tarry coming to dinner.

But the two lovers appetites not being so keen as the lady's, they remain; and on M'Sarcasm's advising Sir Callaghan to be vigorous and push his point, the other sings a song declaratory of his sentiments:

O! you never did hear Of an Irishman's fear In love, or in battle, &c.

The sense of the rest is, that they make all the men in fighting, and all the wo|men in intriguing, strike to them; which is tantamount to an old song amongst the lowest class of prosligates that are banished to England from that country, For fight|ing and f**** (to write in the Tristram Shandy way) there is nobody like us.

For English fathers with their daugh|ters, English husbands with their wives, English brothers with their sisters, &c. to attend to, encourage, and applaud such gross ribaldry, declares them truly meri|torious of the cornuted honours (said to be) so often conserred upon them by their western brethren—when they take a mo|ment's leisure to think, they must be co|vered with shame and confusion, in re|gard to modesty, and their own dignity.

An indecent song having closed the first act, the interval between that and the se|cond is filled up with a dinner; which, with as much accuracy as the preceding business, might be brought on the stage.

The second act begins by M' Sarcasm's (instead of a servant's) announcing to the young lady the arrival of her other original lover, 'Squire Groome, from Newmarket.

In attempting to give a picturesque ac|count of Groome's person and attire (who is come in the very jockey dress in which he had rode a match) M'Sarcasm says, with his usual studied stupidity, that he is come in Aw his pontisicalibus—a jockey garb is a curtailed, abridged, and tight

dress; whereas the word pontisicalibus con|veys the idea of an ample, flowing, and a pompous one; and we might with as much justice say, that a prelate in the full sweep and sway of his robe is in a trim jockey dress.

M'Sarcasm having discharged his pac|ket relative to 'Squire Groome (in order as it were to relieve guard) enters Mordecai with more news about him, and the trans|action between the Irish and the New|market heroes.

On Mordecai's declaring that there is a warm contest between the two, M'Sar|casm expresses his joy in hopes of a speedy effusion of either Irish or Newmarket blood; that of both would please him best, so wicked and bloody-minded a ras|cal is he painted.

His short-lived pleasure is soon con|verted into sorrow, when Mordecai in|forms him that their contest goes no far|ther, than to try who will or can drink Charlotte's health in the greatest quantity of claret; and that the challenge, as he came from them, had risen from one to a three pint bumper.

Such business would be much sitter scened in one of the taverns of Covent Garden purlieus, than in the house, of a sober and reputable merchant of London.

Gentlemen of that sedate class of life very seldom (rather never) permit such riotous doings in their houses, which would be a very pernicious example for their servants, &c. and detrimental to their own characters.

But trespasses of this kind are nothing to our confounding author, who treats nature, reason, and decency with a total disregard; and seems prosessedly to have made an experiment to know how far ab|surdity can be relished in the present too general depravity of taste.

At last on comes, or rather in tumbles, 'Squire Groome, hallooing like mad, and drunk: he begins by excusing himself to Charlotte for not having come sooner, and been time enough for dinner, which he imputes to a brother Buck's having bor|rowed his watch to set another by, but that he put his (Groom's) two hours back, which was the occasion of his error in time.

He bids her ladyship look at it; for that "it regulates the sun, and that they all stop by it at Newmarket." When asked by M' Sarcasm how soon he could come from York to London, he answers, That barring any accident of leg, arm, &c. he would engage to do it in sixteen hours thirty-six minutes and seventeen seconds, or thereabouts: he makes some immate|rial amendment of his calculation.

The inquisitive M' Sarcasm, ever stu|dious to make his rivals expose their weak side, entreats and obtains of him an ac|count of the match he rode for, and won: Groome, from the exuberance of his heart, tells, it was a subscription—match, for which each person had deposited so much, every subscriber to ride his own beast: — he enumerates the odds against him.

Turning to the lady he says, "A little after they set out she might have covered them all with her under-petticoat, but that in a short time one of the match was run away with by his horse out of the course, then rode over an exciseman, two lawyers, and a beau Jew (what an unna|tural

passion this preternatural author has for Jew beans?) with such a chocolate|coloured phiz as Mordecai.—He then de|scribes how he jockey'd the rest along the course, and won the race.

The words are the poorest common-place language (as all fudge, &c.) used at every horse-course—the acting is exquisite; and even beyond the author's meaning. It was the actor of Groome, that roused a torpi|sied, yawning audience the first night, and rescued it from damnation—No King, no Love à la Mode—notwithstanding M'Sar|casm, O Brallaghan, and the Israelite.

M'Sarcasm asks Groome what had in|duced him to come and visit Miss Char|lotte in that dress?—He answers, that the bloods of the turf all offered a bet, that he would not ride to London, and visit his mistress in the very jockey garb in which he had run the race:— he took them all up, and had consequently taken them all in, as the saying is.

M'Sarcasm, to lure him on, affects to greatly admire his wonderful deeds: upon

which Groome tells him, that he had run a snail with his grace, and won it hollow, by half a horn.—Half a horn! (quoth the intelligent M'Sarcasm) that was hollow in|deed. Then he is arch on to what a per|fection the gentlemen of the South have brought all these matters.

Upon which Groome exulting declares, "that he will ride a match, fight a main of cocks, drive an equipage, or hunt a pack of hounds for a thousand guineas with any nobleman in Europe, and he says done first."

O wonderful! (says fleering M'Sar|casm to the lady) he hunts all animals, from the flea in the blanket to the e-le-phant in the fo-rest."—This is cer|tainly new—"He is, indeed, Madam, a very Nimrod." "Yes, I am a Nimrod," answers Groome.

It is too arduous a task to attempt un|folding the many latent beauties in this piece; therefore it is to be hoped a few specimens will suffice.

The reader may with reason ask, but all this time what is become of Sir Callag|han?

Why has he been deprived of hear|ing the description of Groome's match ?— Has he not been able to carry the bum|pers that he had been drinking with Groome to Charlotte's health; or is he fallen asleep, and tumbled under the table? But in what room or part of the house we really do not know.

It is agreed upon, however, that he is to be cited to the acting chamber, to afford diversion to the lady and her lovers. When Groome hears of it, he says with astonish|ment; "An Irishman make love! I should be glad to hear what an Irishman can say, when he makes love!"

M'Sarcasm, the Jew, and Groome retire to a corner of the room, to overhear and be diverted with O Brallaghan's addresses to the lady; who is advised by M'Sarcasm to ask him for his so-net, which he pro|tests will highly entertain her ladyship.

Besides the stupidity of the device, what lady of the least education, would co-ope|rate to exhibit a woer, her guardian's ne|phew too, for a ridiculous entertainment to his rivals, whom she despises. There

are many courtezans would not consent to it in a brothel; nay, it is a brothel scheme, where some of the company retired into another room, see through holes cut in the partition, the aukward addresses made to a woman, by any particular person they mean to laugh at—But how can any thing of the kind be transacted in a reputable house?

The lady being left alone, and a clear stage for Sir Callaghan, on he comes, and all the reason he gives for his absence is, that he was enjoying himself in a soliloquy about her, though in the mean time there was a possibility of one of his rivals making advances in her esteem.

She allows him but little time to apolo|gize, before she asks him for a song, not for her entertainment alone, but his rival hearers; which is a violent proof of the author's knowledge of the behaviour of women of polite education and rank.

By the assistance of liquor he thinks him|self better enabled to speak his mind to the lady.—He would fain excuse himself from singing a song (which she is put on to ask by M' Sarcasm) and pleads the fear of hav|ing

got at the wrong side of his voice; but she persisting, he prays her not to expect such good singing from him, as the people of the opera-house, because " Irishmen are not cut out like the Italians."

This expression I am informed by Scotch (officers who have been on Irish duty, is a very old and hackney'd black-guardicism there;—but it may be replied, that is no exclusive reason against the qualified au|thor's using it.—

Let other men sing of their goddesses bright, That darken the day, and enlighten the night: I sing of woman of such flesh and blood, To touch but her finger would do one's heart good. Fal lal, la, &c.

At the end of each stanza is introduced a dash of the Irish howl, which, as Mordecai has it, he roars not sings.

The song finished, to the great satis|faction of the three listening rivals in the corner, Charlotte intimates a desire of her ardent lover O Brallaghan's remaining (in case of their union) at home with her, and going no more to the army.

He, with two thrust-in sentiments, re|plies, " he cannot with honour, because that he had served his royal master (and a brave one he is) for seventeen years, who gave him money when he had none of his own; and that now he was come to a title and fortune, to desert his service when he stands in most need, would be the act of a poltroon;—that it had ever been a rule with him, never to abandon his king or his friend in distress."

Morality of this kind belongs to the in|genuous and noble-minded of every cli|mate, and is here strangely appropriated to Irish Teaguism, as well as that in the first act—" There are two things I am equally afraid of; either to affront any man, or be|ing affronted myself:" and yet the Irish in general are remarkable for irascibility, and mistaking an affront where none had been meant.

Is it not surprising that our author, who makes the most of every occasion, has not given a panegyrical volley to the king of Prussia, to endear his piece the more to the crowd? that would have been some

little plea for the Irishman's being a Prussian officer—He might have extolled him above Caesar, Hannibal, Alexander, and declared them not worthy of being his aides-de-camp. Then what huzzaing and clapping from the upper regions?

The lady declares against having to do with a military man, leaves him as abruptly, as she had exposed him basely.—In amaze|ment, he says, "What, does she quit the field?—I'll after strait, and reconnoitre her."—

It being high time for all parties to have done their fools tricks, and put a judicious period to this wonderful piece, enter M' Sarcasm and Mordecai, observing to each other that the shew is over, that there are bailiffs in Sir Theodore's house.

Sir Theodore crosses the stage with an attorney, and shews him to the lady's apartment, to inform her of the loss of her lawsuit.—She comes on in tears with Sir Theodore, bidding him not to despond, but to hope for the better; " that she is sure Sir Archibald will make them happy."

The Scot overhearing her, says, " She may as well rely on the phi-lo-so-phers stone.

Upon her application to him he tells her, he has received letters " not only remon|strating, but expressly pro-hi-bi-ting his contaminating a noble family, by mixing with any thing sprung from sugar-hogs|heads and counting-houses.

She closes her indignant answer with " there is no virtue in man."—" Nor in woman either (quoth the Scot) who has na fortune."—He insultingly advises her to take up with the wandering Israelite, whom he treats with amplified abuse, but the Jew begs to be excused.

In rushes Squire Groome, roaring what the devil is the matter.—" Why I hear, Sir Theodore, that you and the silly have run soul of the post."—Being informed of the lady's disaster, he plays off too with a continuation of indecent Newmarket alle|gory.

On comes Sir Brallaghan, who when ever off the stage, seems as if he had been asleep, and not to know any thing of what

has happened in the house—Where did he so hide himself?

When told of Charlott's misfortune, (as it was proper the dubbed hero should) he declares that he loves her the better for it; because while she was computed to be worth an hundred thousand pounds, he, could never come near her but in tremb|ling."—Is this agreeable to some of his former declarations, of attacking, storming, making a coup de main, or dying upon the spot; or the sense of the song which tags the first act, in which he says, he and his countrymen always make the fair and the bold surrender?—Her sentimental speeches on his behaviour, she knowing her situa|tion not to be impaired, is quite gratis.

Sir Theodore tells Sir Callaghan, " that to reward his manly virtue, and to punish the other interested profligates, who court ladies only for their fortunes, that Char|lotte is as rich as ever.—Groome and Mor|decai appearing amazed, M'Sarcasm bids them be quiet, that Sir Theodore says that to take in the Irish feul, who had three

good qualities to make a husband — " a gud estate, loved Charlotte mightily, and was a blockhead.

Sir Callaghan addressing himself to Sir Theodore, says—" Why really I do not know the importance of all this — I can|not believe one word you say; one time you tell me Miss Charlotte has a fortune; then she has no fortune—and after, that she has a fortune again: why this is like what the little jackanapes's about town do, and is called humbugging a man."

When the reality of Charlotte's fortune is assured beyond a doubt, the slung rivals express their uneasiness;—Groome cries out, " Why the knowing-ones are taken in here—M'Sarcasm declares he will be re|venged; that he knows a lad of gud fa|mily, that understands the Belles Lettres and Classics," (a stale joke against the Scots) and is actually writing a comedy, and that he shall make the parties ridiculous, by insinuating their characters.—Mordecai vows " he will write a satire, and ascribe a scandalous intrigue to Charlotte."—

Groome, to have vengeance, swears, " as he cannot write, he will kill her parrot, and cut off her squirrel's tail."

O Brallaghan accosts them, " Pray, gentlemen, I hope you will ask my leave for all this: if any of you touch a hair of the parrot's head, or write your scurrilous lampoons, I will make remarks upon your bodies. I carry a pen by my side that is a very good critic, and writes legible cha|racters, to punish impertinent authors."

M' Sarcasm tells him he has the lady, and to be satisfied; and not to talk in that bul|lying way, for that others have as good swords as he.

O Brallaghan observes to Charlotte, " This is very like the catastrophe of a play where all the people are together, when honest men are rewarded, and knaves disap|pointed.

Thus ends Love à la Mode, the prize is carried off by O Brallaghan, the Jew, Scot and Englishman baulked and abused. What

can be the tendency, or moral instruction of this piece?— it is pretty obvious without explaining it.