Quem tulit ad scenam ventoso gloria cuiru,
Exanimat lentus spectator, sedulus inflat.

Sic leve, sic parvum est, animum quod laudis avarum
Subruit, aut reficit.-HORAT. Lib. ii. Epist. i.J

1 Him, whom glory in her airy car has brought upon the stage, the careless spectator dispirits, the attentive renders more diligent. So slight, so small a matter it is which overturns or raises a mind covetous of praise.

Con.

B

HE Old Bachelor, the first of Congreve's plays, was produced in 1693, at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, though the date when it was written is not exactly known. The plot, never a strong feature in any of Congreve's comedies, is not marked by striking originality or novelty of combination. Still, if the piece is stage-worn, the setting is bold and brilliant. The dialogue coruscates with wit of the highest order, and in every scene we are surprised by reflections and remarks so tersely and humorously turned as to appear like a fresh revelation. In common with all the comedies of Congreve, the language here is polished till it admits of no further improvement; the satire bites and sparkles, whilst the foibles and fashions of the hour-and we have no keener exponent of the social life of his day than this author-impregnate the whole like the aroma of a delicate yet penetrating wine. Of morality there is less than none, for throughout the comedy vice is always draped in the more attractive garb.

It is of this piece that Addison thus speaks in his Tatler, No. 9: "In the character which gives name to this play there is excellently represented the reluctance of a battered debauchee to come into the trammels of order and decency; he neither languishes nor burns, but frets for love. The gentlemen of more regular behaviour are drawn with much spirit and wit, and the drama introduced by the dialogue of the first scene with uncommon yet natural conversation. The part of Fondlewife is a lively image of the unseasonable fondness of age and impotence."

The Old Bachelor was acted as late as 1789.

The writer of the following commendatory verses was the Captain Southerne who, in conjunction with Dryden, revised the play so as to fit it for the stage,

To Mr. CONGREVE, on The Old Bachelor.

WHEN virtue in pursuit of fame appears,
And forward shoots the growth beyond the years,
We timely court the rising hero's cause,
And on his side the poet wisely draws;
Bespeaking him hereafter by applause.
The days will come when we shall all receive
Returning interest from what now we give;
Instructed and supported by that praise
And reputation which we strive to raise.
Nature so coy, so hardly to be wooed,
Flies like a mistress, but to be pursued.
O Congreve ! boldly follow on the chase;
She looks behind, and wants thy strong embrace;
She yields, she yields, surrenders all her charms,
Do you but force her gently to your arms:
Such nerves, such graces, in your lines appear,
As you were made to be her ravisher.
Dryden has long extended his command,
By right divine, quite through the Muses' land
Absolute lord; and holding now from none,
But great Apollo, his undoubted crown;
(That empire settled, and grown old in power)
Can wish for nothing but a successor :
Not to enlarge his limits, but maintain
Those provinces which he alone could gain.
His eldest Wycherley, in wise retreat,
Thought it not worth his quiet to be great.
Loose, wandering Etherege, in wild pleasures tost
And foreign interest, to his hopes long lost :
Poor Lee and Otway dead! Congreve appears,
The darling and last comfort of his years.
Mayst thou live long in thy great Master's smiles,
And growing under him, adorn these isles:
But when-when part of him (be that but late)
His body yielding must submit to fate,'
Leaving his deathless works and thee behind,
(The natural successor of his mind,)

Then mayst thou finish what he has begun ;
Heir to his merit, be in fame his son.

What thou hast done shows all is in thy power;
And to write better, only must write more.
'Tis something to be willing to commend;
But my best praise is, that I am your friend.

THO. SOUTHERNE.

T is with a great deal of pleasure that I lay hold on this first occasion, which the accidents of, my life have given me, of writing to your Lordship: for since, at the same time, I write to all the world, it will be a means of publishing (what I would have everybody know) the respect and duty which I owe and pay to you. I have so much inclination to be yours, that I need no other engagement : but the particular ties by which I am bound to your Lordship and family, have put it out of my power to make you any compliment; since all offers of myself will amount to no more than an honest acknowledgment, and only show a willingness in me to be grateful.

I am very near wishing that it were not so much my interest to be your Lordship's servant, that it might be more my merit; not that I would avoid being obliged to you, but I would have my own choice to run me into the debt; that I might have it to boast I had distinguished a man to whom I would be glad to be obliged, even without the hopes of having it in my power ever to make him a return.

It is impossible for me to come near your Lordship, in any kind, and not to receive some favour; and while in appearance I am only making an acknowledgment (with the usual underhand dealing of the world), I am, at the same time, insinuating my own interest. I cannot give

1 Eldest son of Rich. Boyle, Earl of Cork, afterwards created Earl of Burlington. Lord Clifford was, however, himself a peer, having been called up to the House of Lords by writ in the lifetime of his father.

your Lordship your due, without tacking a bill of my own privileges. It is true, if a man never committed a folly, he would never stand in need of a protection: but then power would have nothing to do, and good-nature no occasion to show itself; and where those qualities are, it is pity they should want for it, when done; yet it reconciles the uses of such authority and goodness to the necessities of our follies; and is a sort of poetical logic, which at this time I would make use of, to argue your Lordship into a protection of this play. It is the first offence I have committed in this kind, or indeed in any kind of poetry, though not the first made public; and therefore, I hope, will the more easily be pardoned but had it been acted when it was first written, more might have been said in its behalf; ignorance of the town and stage would then have been excuses in a young writer, which now almost four years' experience will scarce allow of. Yet I must declare myself sensible of the goodnature of the town in receiving this play so kindly, with all its faults, which I must own were, for the most part, very industriously covered by the care of the players; for I think scarce a character but received all the advantage it would admit of from the justness of the action.

As for the critics, my Lord, I have nothing to say to or against any of them of any kind; from those who make just exceptions, to those who find fault in the wrong place. I will only make this general answer in behalf of my play (an answer which Epictetus advises every man to make for himself to his censurers), viz.—"That if they who find some faults in it were as intimate with it as I am, they would find a great many more." This is a confession which I needed not to have made; but however I can draw this use from it, to my own advantage, that I think there are no faults in it but what I do know; which, as I take it, is the first step to an amendment.

Thus I may live in hopes (some time or other) of making the town amends; but you, my Lord, I never can, though I am ever your Lordship's most obedient, and most humble servant,

WILL. CONGREVE.