SCENE I.-Mr and Mrs DANGLE at Breakfast, and reading Newspapers.

DANGLE (reading.)

"Brutus to Lord North."-" Letter the Second on the State of the Army."-Pshaw!" To the first L-dash D of the A- dash Y."-"Genuine Extract of a Letter from St Kitt's.""Coxheath Intelligence." "It is now confidently asserted, that Sir Charles Hardy" Pshaw!-Nothing but about the fleet and the nation and I hate all politics but theatrical politics. Where's the Morning Chronicle?

Mrs D. Yes, that's your Gazette.

Dan. So, here we have it.

« Theatrical intelligence extraordinary.""We hear there is a new tragedy in rehearsal at Drury-lane theatre, called the Spanish Armada, said to be written by Mr Puff, a gentleman well known in the theatrical world: if we may allow ourselves to

give credit to the report of the performers, who, truth to say, are in general but indifferent judges, this piece abounds with the most striking and received beauties of modern composition."-So! I am very glad my friend Puff's tragedy is in such forwardness. Dangle, my dear, you will be very glad to hear that Puff's tragedy

Mrs

Mrs D. Lord, Mr Dangle, why will you plague me about such nonsense?—Now the plays are begun, I shall have no peace.-Isn't it sufficient to make yourself ridiculous by your passion for the theatre, without continually teazing me to join you? Why can't you ride your hobby-horse without desiring to place me on a pillion behind you, Mr Dangle?

Dan. Nay, my dear, I was only going to readMrs D. No, no; you will never read any thing that's worth listening to you hate to hear about your country; there are letters every day with Roman signatures, demonstrating the certainty of an invasion, and proving that the nation is utterly undone. But you never will read any thing to entertain one.

Dan. What has a woman to do with politics, Mrs Dangle?

Mrs D. And what have you to do with the theatre, Mr Dangle? Why should you affect the character of a critic? I have no patience with you!. haven't you made yourself the jest of all your acquaintance by your interference in matters where you have no business? Are not you called a theatrical Quidnunc, and a mock Mecenas to second-hand authors?

Dan. True; my power with the managers is pretty notorious; but is it no credit to have applications from all quarters for my interest? From lords to recommend fiddlers, from ladies to get boxes, from authors to get answers, and from actors to get engagements?

Mrs D. Yes, truly; you have contrived to get a share in all the plague and trouble of theatrical property, without the profit, or even the credit of the abuse that attends it.

Dan. I am sure, Mrs Dangle, you are no loser by it, however; you have all the advantages of it: mightn't you, last winter, have had the reading of the new Pantomime a fortnight previous to its performance? And doesn't Mr Fosbrook let you take places for a play before it is advertised, and set you down for a box for every new piece through the season? And didn't my friend, Mr Smatter, dedicate his last farce to you at my particular request, Mrs Dangle?

Mrs D. Yes; but wasn't the farce damned, Mr Dangle? And to be sure it is extremely pleasant to have one's house made the motley rendezvous of all the lackeys of literature: the very high change of trading authors and jobbing critics! Yes, my drawing-room is an absolute register-office for candidate actors, and poets without character; then to be continually alarmed with Misses and Ma'ams piping hysteric changes on Juliets and Dorindas, Pollys and Ophelias; and the very furniture trembling at the probationary starts and unprovoked rants of wouldbe Richards and Hamlets! And what is worse than all, now that the manager has monopolized the house, haven't we the Signors and Signoras calling here, sliding their smooth semi-breves, and gargling glib divisions in their outlandish throats-with foreign emissaries and French spies, for ought I know, disguised like fiddlers and figure dancers!

Dan. Mercy! Mrs Dangle!

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Mrs D. And to employ yourself so idly at such an alarming crisis as this too-when, if you had the least spirit, you would have been at the head of one of the Westminster associations, or trailing a volunteer pike in the Artillery Ground!-But you-o'my

conscience, I believe if the French were landed tomorrow, your first enquiry would be, whether they had brought a theatrical troop with them.

Dan. Mrs Dangle, it does not signify-I say the stage is "the Mirror of Nature," and the actors are "the Abstract, and brief Chronicles of the Time :". and pray what can a man of sense study better? Besides, you will not easily persuade me that there is no credit or importance in being at the head of a band of critics, who take upon them to decide for the whole town, whose opinion and patronage all writers solicit, and whose recommendation no manager dares refuse!

Mrs D. Ridiculous!-Both managers and authors of the least merit laugh at your pretensions. The public is their critic-without whose fair approbation they know no play can rest on the stage, and with whose applause they welcome such attacks as yours, and laugh at the malice of them, where they can't at the wit.

Dan. Very well, madam- very well.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Mr Sneer, sir, to wait on you.

Dan. O, shew Mr Sneer up. [Exit Servant.] Plague on't, now we must appear loving and affectionate, or Sneer will hitch us into a story.

Mrs D. With all my heart; you can't be more ridiculous than you are.

Dan. You are enough to provoke

Enter Mr Sneer.

Ha! my dear Sneer, I am vastly glad to see you. My dear, here's Mr Sneer.

Mrs D. Good morning to you, sir.

Dan. Mrs Dangle and I have been diverting ourselves with the papers.-Pray, Sneer, won't you go to Drury-lane theatre the first night of Puff's tragedy.

Sneer. Yes; but I suppose one shan't be able to get in, for on the first night of a new piece they always fill the house with orders to support it. But here, Dangle, I have brought you two pieces, one of which you must exert yourself to make the managers accept, I can tell you that, for 'tis written by a person of consequence.

Dan. So now my plagues are beginning.

Sneer. Aye, I am glad of it, for now you'll be happy. Why, my dear Dangle, it is a pleasure to see how you enjoy your volunteer fatigue, and your solicited solicitations.

Dan. It's a great trouble; yet, egad, it's pleasant too. Why, sometimes of a morning, I have a dozen people call on me at breakfast time, whose faces I never saw before, nor ever desire to see again.

Sneer. That must be very pleasant indeed!

Dan. And not a week but I receive fifty letters, and not a line in them about any business of my

own.

Sneer. An amusing correspondence!

Dan. [Reading.] "Bursts into tears, and exit."What, is this a tragedy?

Sneer. No, that's a genteel comedy, not a translation-only taken from the French; it is written in a stile which they have lately tried to run down; the true sentimental, and nothing ridiculous in it from the beginning to the end.

Mrs D. Well, if they had kept to that, I should not have been such an enemy to the stage; there was some edification to be got from those pieces, Mr Sneer.

Sneer. I am quite of your opinion, Mrs Dangle; the theatre, in proper hands, might certainly be made the school of morality; but now, I am sorry to say it, people seem to go there principally for their entertainment.