When a' they ettle at-their greatest wish, Can there be toil in tending day and night Frae duddy doublets, and a pantry toom. PEGGY. May sic ill-luck befa' that silly she Let fouk bode weel, and strive to do their best; That lads should a' for wives that 's virtuous pray; He'll bless the day he gat me for his wife. JENNY. But what if some young giglet on the green, Wi' dimpled cheeks and twa bewitching een, Should gar your Patie think his half-worn Meg, PEGGY. Nae mair o' that-Dear Jenny, to be free, Guards to my face to keep his love for me. JENNY. A dish o' married love right soon grows cauld, PEGGY But we'll grow auld thegither, and n'er find See you twa elms that grow up side by side, Till wide their spreading branches are increast. Sic as stand single-a state sae liked by you!— Beneath ilk storm, frae every airt, maun bow. JENNY. I've done-I yield, dear lassie; I maun yield; DRAMATISTS. The dramatic literature of this period was, like its general poetry, polished and artificial. In tragedy, the highest name is that of Southerne, who may claim, with Otway, the power of touching the passions, yet his language is feeble compared with that of the great dramatists, and his general style low and unimpressive. Addison's 'Cato' is more properly a classical poem than a drama-as cold and less vigorous than the tragedies of Jonson. In comedy, the national taste is apparent in its faithful and witty delineations of polished life, of which Wycherley and Congreve had set the example, and which was well continued by Farquhar and Vanbrugh. Beaumont and Fletcher first introduced what may be called comedies of intrigue, borrowed from the Spanish drama; and the innovation appears to have been congenial to the English taste, for it still pervades our comic literature. The vigorous exposure of the immorality of the stage by Jeremy Collier, and the essays of Steele and Addison, improving the taste and moral feeling of the public, a partial reformation took place of those nuisances of the drama which the Restoration had introduced. The Master of the Revels, by whom all plays had to be licensed, also aided in this work of retrenchment; but a glance at even those improved plays of the reign of William III. and his successors, will shew that ladies frequenting the theatres had still occasion to wear masks, which Colley Cibber says they usually did On the production of a new play. ous. THOMAS SOUTHERNE. THOMAS SOUtherne (1659-1746) may be classed either with the last or the present period. His life was long, extended, and prosperHe was a native of Dublin, but came to England, and enrolled himself in the Middle Temple as a student of law. He afterwards entered the army, and held the rank of captain under the Duke of York, at the time of Monmouth's insurrection. His latter days were spent in retirement, and in the possession of a considerable fortune. Southerne wrote ten plays, but only two exhibit his characteristic powers, namely 'Isabella, or the Fatal Marriage,' and 'Oroonoko.' The latter is founded on an actual occurrence; Oroonoko, an African prince, having been stolen from his native kingdom of Angola, and carried to one of the West India islands. The impassioned grandeur of Oroonoko's sufferings, his burst of horror and indignation at the slave-trade, and his unhappy passion for Imoinda, are powerful and pathetic. Ín the following scene, the hero and heroine unexpectedly meet after a long absence: OROONOKO. My soul steals from my body through my eyes; And die upon the pleasure. LIEUT. This is strange! OROO. If you but mock me with her image here: If she be not Imoinda [Kisses her. [She looks upon him and falls into a swoon; he runs to her. Oh! I can't believe Oh! if I know myself, I cannot be mistaken. OROO. Never here: You cannot be mistaken: I am yours, Your Oroonoko, all that you would have; Your tender, loving husband. IMO. All, indeed, That I would have: my husband! then I am Alive, and waking to the joys I feel: They were so great, I could not think 'em true; For truth itself, and everlasting love Grows in this breast, and pleasure in these arms. You know the way to every secret there My heart, the sacred treasury of love: A mite from the rich store; if I have spent A wish, a sigh, but what I sent to you, IMO. Oh! I believe, And know you by myself. If these sad eyes, [Stares at him. [Embraces him. To guide me on my way to happiness: I cannot miss it now. Governor, friend, You think me mad: but let me bless you all, Of finding her again. Imoinda 's found! And everything that I would have in her. [Embraces her. BLAND. Sir, we congratulate your happiness; I do most heartily. OROO. That would require More precious time than I can spare you now. I have a thousand things to ask of her, And she as many more to know of me. Have words or power to tell you. Captain, you, I'll think you but the minister of fate, To bring me to my loved Imoinda here. IMO. How, how shall I receive you? how be worthy OROO. Let the fools Who follow fortune live upon her smiles; We have enough of that to make us happy. Your love my empire, and your heart my throne. [Exeunt. Mr. Hallam says that Southerne was the first English writer who denounced (in this play) the traffic in slaves and the cruelties of their West Indian bondage. This is an honour which should never be omitted in any mention of the dramatist. 'Isabella' is more correct and regular than Oroonoko,' and the part of the heroine affords scope for a tragic actress, scarcely inferior in pathos to Belvidera. Otway, however, has more depth of passion, and more vigorous delineation of character. The plot of Isabella' is simple. In abject distress, and believing her husband, Biron, to be dead, Isabella is hurried into a second marriage. Biron returns, and the distress of the heroine terminates in madness and death. Comic scenes are interspersed throughout Southerne's tragedies, which, though they re lieve the sombre colouring of the main action and interest of the piece, are sometimes misplaced and unpleasant. · Return of Biron. A Chamber-Enter ISABELLA. ISABELLA. I've heard of witches, magic spells, and charms, That have made nature start from her old course; The sun has been eclipsed, the moon drawn down From her career, still paler, and subdued To the abuses of this under world. Now I believe all possible. This ring, Has raised the ghost of pleasure to my fears; Enter NURSE. NURSE. Madam, the gentleman's below. ISA. I had forgot; pray, let me speak with him. To think I have a second. Biron died (Still to my loss) at Candy; there's my hope. Oh, do I live to hope that he died there? It must be so; he's dead, and this ring left, By his last breath, to some known faithful friend, That's all I have to trust to. Enter BIRON-(ISABELLA looking at him.) My fears were woman's-I have viewed him all ; And let me let me say to myself, I live again, and rise but from his tomb. BIRON. Have you forgot me quite? ISA. Forgot you! BIR. Then farewell my disguise, and my misfortunes! My Isabella ! ISA. Ha! BIR. Oh! come again; [Exit Nurse, [He goes to her; she shrinks, and faints. Thy Biron summons thee to life and love; Excess of love and joy, for my return, Than words could say. Words may be counterfeit, And always speaks the heart. ISA. Where have I been? Why do you keep him from me? I know his voice; my life, upon the wing, Hears the soft lure that brings me back again; "Tis he himself, my Biron. Do I hold you fast, Never to part again? If I must fall, death 's welcome in these arms. BIR. Live ever in these arms. ISA. But pardon me: Excuse the wild disorder of my soul; The joy, the strange, surprising joy of seeing you, Of seeing you again, distracted me. BIR. Thou everlasting goodness! ISA. Answer me: What hand of Providence has brought you back Oh, tell me all, For every thought confounds me. BIR. My best life! at leisure all. ISA. We thought you dead; killed at the siege of Candy, |