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IN FIVE ACTS.
AS PERFORMED AT TL!
By FREDERICK REYNOLDS.
THE FIFTH EDITION.
PRINTZB BY A. STRAHAN, PRINTERS-5TR tIT J
[Price Two Shillings.]
WRITTEN BT A FRIEND.
JN AtuRe's a worn-out coat—her comic vein
Bards following bards have turn'd and turn'd again
Can you expect it as bran new—as when
'Twas first cut out by Shakspeare and Old Ben i
They had, in aid of their superior art,
The nap of novelty on every part.
Would we a braggart paint, absurd and vain,
We can but drels up Pistol o'er again;
And change, like variations to old tunes,
His old flash'd breeches into pantaloons:
Or would we restless jealousy attack,
Kitely's turn'd coat must fit a modern back.
Will you not therefore spare us, who, tho' loth,
Must cut our coat according to our cloth.
Full fifteen years has your responsive smile
And cheering roar repaid our author's toil.
Think what laborious pangs, what loss of rest
To furnish out an annual crop of jest—.
"If jest it can be call'd, which jest is none,"
Till your kind hands its dubious merits own.
But should, perchance, one year of dreary dearth
To dullness turn our aathor's wifh'd for mirth •
Tho' now condemn'd by your impartial laws,
His grateful homage own your past applause.
Sir Harry Torpid, - Messrs. Lewis.
Gabriel Lackbrain, - - Fawcett.
Primitive, - - Mukden,
Marchmont> - - Murray.
Craftly, - - - Emery.
Clifford, ... Farley.
Waiter, ... Simmon*.
William, ... Curties.
Jenkins, ... Atkins.
Jonathan, - - - ■ Thompson.
James, - Abbot.
Servant, - - Lee.
Mrs. Belford, - - Miss Chapman.
Rosa Marchmont, - Miss Murray.
Mrs. Decoy, - Mrs. St. Ledger.
Betty, - Miss Cox.
SCENE—A Sea-Port Town, and the Neighbourhood.
A C T I.
SCENE—Outside of Craftly'j Library, View
of the 'Town, the Sea, &c.
Enter Marchmont (with a Manuscript in his Hand) and Rosa.
V^HEER up, cheer up, my father! surely this stiould be a day of joy.
March. It should; but 'twill not be; I have out-toil'd my strength.
Rosa. You have. For ten long years the produce of your pen has been our sole support; and for these fix months past the labour of the brain has been unceasing; night after night has been devoted to that one composition (pointing to the manuscript in Marchmont'j hand). But now the book, is finished, and yonder lives the gentleman who by the purchase of it will recompence you amply. Look, there's the library; will not that revive you, father?