A little fire would do no harm, we know it,
To modern actor, nor to modern poet.

[But, beaux, and ye plum❜d belles, all perch'd in front,
You're safe at all events, depend upon't;

So never rise like flutter'd birds together,
The hottest fire shan't singe a single feather;
No, I assure our generous benefactors,
'Twould only burn the scen'ry and the actors *.]

Here ends, as housekeeper, my explanation;
And may the house receive your approbation!
For you in air, the vaulted roof we raise ;
Tho' firm its base, its best support your praise.
Stamp then your mighty seal upon our cause!
Give us, ye gods, a thunder of applause!

The high decree is past-may future age,
When pond'ring o'er the annals of our stage,
Rest on this time, when Labour rear'd the pile,
In tribute to the Genius of our Isle ;

This school of art, with British sanction grac'd,
And worthy of a manly nation's taste!
And now the image of our Shakespeare view,
And give the Drama's God the honour due †.

April 29. BRITISH FORTITUDE, and HIBERNIAN FRIENDSHIP," a Musical Drama, was produced for the benefit of Mr. Johnstone, at Covent-Garden Theatre, and met with applause.

May 2. "NAPLES BAY; or, THE BRITISH SAILORS AT ANCHOR, a Musical Interlude, was acted for the first time at the same Theatre, for Mr. Incledon's benefit, and also received approbation.

8. A new Play, called "THE JEw," was produced at Drury-Lane Theatre; the principal characters of which are as follow:

Sheba, the Jew, has the character of being a usurer and a miser, while, in fact, his heart is feelingly alive to every noble ebullition of philanthropy. He is even seeking Occasions of performing charitable actions by stealth. He is the broker of Sir Stephen, a rich merchant, who wishes to marry his only son to a lady with a fortune of 10,000l. Mr. Ratcliff is the heir of an ancient family, whose father was a merchant in Spain; but, reduced in circumstances, and having a mother and sister to provide for, he is obliged to engage himself as Sir Stephen's clerk. Frederick and he become warm friends; and the former, admitted on terms of familiarity into his family, becomes enamoured of Eliza, who privately marries him. Frederick applies to the Jew for money upon any terms, to relieve the distress of Mrs. Ratcliff and her family. Sheba not only lends him money in the most liberal manner, but, understanding that his father had turned him out of his house on account of his marrying a beggar, generously resolves to make up Eliza's fortune to the sum which Sir Stephen expected with his

*The six lines in crotchets were given by a friend.

+ Here the Iron Curtain is taken up, and discovers the statue of Shakespeare, under a mulberry tree, &c. &c.

VOL. II.

3.B

son's wife. This is made known to the old gentleman by Sheba himself, in the most natural and interesting manner. Sir Stephen goes to the lodgings of his son, whom he finds absent in consequence of a quarrel with Mr. Radcliff, whose pride was injured at his clandestine marriage with his sister. Frederick and Ratcliff fight at a tavern, whither they are followed by the benevolent Jew, who has intimation of their misunderstanding, and Ratcliff is wounded in the hand. While Sir Stephen and Mrs. Bertram are expressing their apprehensions, in consequence of a letter written by Frederick to his father, upon the supposition of a fatal issue to his quarrel, they enter; and after mutual explanations and congratulations, Sheba is brought in, who discovers in Mrs. Ratcliff the widow of the man who had once saved him from the Inquisition, as Ratcliff had recently done from the brutality of a London mob. The piece ends happily with a reconciliation of all parties, and the determination of the Jew to leave Ratcliff his heir.

This comedy abounds with the most refined sentiments; the language flows with case, and is elegant; the situations are interesting, and the whole is worked up with great judgment and proportionable effect.

Report has fathered the Jew upon Mr. Cumberland; it is an offspring that will add to the well-established fame of that gentleman, whose dramatic productions have so often pleased before.

The play was given out for the following night, with general applause.
The following are the Prologue and Epilogue.

PROLOGUE.

SPOKEN BY MR. PALMER.

OUR Comic Bard, before whose roving eye
Kingdoms and states in magic vision lie,
Sweeps o'er the map, and, with a partial smile,
Fixes at length on his beloved isle;

He views her deck'd in all her natʼral charms,
And wrapt in peace amidst the din of arms.

"Here, here, he cries, on Albion's fost'ring breast
"The Arts are shelter'd, and the Muses rest;
"Here will I build my stage, by moral rule
"And scenic measure, here erect my school,
"A school for prejudice. Oh! that my stroke
"Could strip that creeper from the British oak!

"Twin'd round her gen'rous shaft, the 'tangled weed
"Sheds on the undergrowth its baneful seed."
This said, he bids us strike the daring blow,
That lays his fame and this defiler low.

And now our Prologue speaks-In former days
Prologues were abstracts of their sev'ral plays;
But now, like guilty men who dread their doom,
We talk of ev'ry thing but what's to come.
As for our fable, little I'll unfold,
For out of little, much cannot be told;
"Tis but one species in the wide extent
Of Prejudice at which our shaft is sent;
"Tis but this simple lesson of the heart-
Judge not the man by his exterior part;
Virtue's strong root in ev'ry soil will grow,
Rich ores lie buried under piles of snow.

If to your candour we appeal this night
For a poor client, for a luckless wight,
Whom bard ne'er favour'd, whose sad fate has been
Never to share in one applauding scene,

In souls like yours there should be found a place
For ev'ry victim of unjust disgrace.

EPILOGUE.

SPOKEN BY MISS FARREN.

TRUTH has declar'd, and question it none can,
Woman was once a rib of lordly man;
And some, perhaps, wou'd risque a little pain
To hitch that rib into its place again;
For let the heart ache, or what aught betide,
They're sure to place it to the peccant side,
Till, fixt at length, they centre all the blame
In that one rib from whence the woman came.
Now this is downright prejudice and spleen,
A plea for thrusting us behind the scene;
And there we stood for many a longing age,
Not let to steal one foot upon the stage,
Till now, when all their tyrant acts are past,
Curtsying we come, like Epilogue, at last;
And you so little are inclin'd to rout us,
You wonder how your fathers did without us;
Sure we can lightlier touch those feeling parts
That twine about the region of your hearts;
Passion, that from the lips of woman flows,
Warm o'er man's soul with magic swiftness goes;
And though the sphere be small in which we move,
Great is the recompence when you approve.
Whilst Nature and your candour hold their course,
So long our charter will remain in force,
Nor will you grudge the privilege you gave,
Till we forget to smile upon the brave.
Still in the slipp'ry path that brings us near
Forbidden precincts we must tread with fear,
Never forgetting Nature has decreed
A certain limit we must not exceed.
Does my weak cast in tragic pathos lie?
Why then so dismal, gentle poet, why?
In mirth oft times the nuptial knot I've ty'd,
But never was till now a Mourning Bride.
If to my share some moving speeches fall,
Look in my face, and they'll not move at all.
Yet not to drop at once Eliza's stile,
One word in earnest, and without a smile-
Thro' all the characters of varied life,
All the fond casts of parent, child, or wife,
What part so e'er our Author has assign'd,
To that we must conform with patient mind,
So at the Drama's close when we appear,
We may obtain a parting plaudit here.

9. A new operatic piece in one act, called "Love AND HONOUR," was performed at Covent-Garden Theatre, as one of the entertainments for Mrs, Martyr's benefit. DRAMATIS PERSONE.

The subject of this little piece may be given in a few words. Mary understanding that her sweetheart William (a sailor) was stationed in India, resolves, instead of

staying at home, moping and lamenting his absence, to enter on shipboard (under disguise of a sailor), in pursuit of him. For this purpose she sets off for Portsmouth, accompanied by her brother Dick, who endeavours to persuade her to drop the enterprise, and return back-striving, at the same time, to alarm her fears of being taken and carried to France, or of what she may suffer on shipboard for her idle pranks. In the mean time William appears to have landed, having just escaped from shipwreck, but saved his property; and on his return to see his father, and sweetheart Mary, is taken by a press-gang, a division of which having also fallen in with Mary, is the means of an interview being effected between the lovers, at the critical moment when they might have been separated for ever. The Lieutenant of the press-gang, who appears also to have felt the shafts of love, dismisses William on Mary's discovering herself, and permits the lovers to return home happy.

This piece was very favourably received.

13. A new after-piece, called "THE PACKET BOAT," was produced at Covent. Garden Theatre, for the benefit of Mr. Munden; the characters and plot of which are as follows:

The fable of "THE PACKET BOAT" is this:-Jaquelina disguises herself in man's attire, to accompany her female friend Isidora, a young nun, to England, on the abolition of convents in France, for the double purpose of protecting Isidora, and meeting her lover, O'Phoenix, whom she appoints to meet on her landing in England.

Woodford, the lover of Isidora, with Scamper his servant, on his return from the Grand Tour, takes his passage in the same packet-boat by which Isidora and Jaquelina arrive, and landing in the night, the ladies are accommodated at Supple's, a smuggler on the coast, and Woodford at the hotel, where he meets with O'Phoenix. The circumstance of a sailor's finding his miniature picture, makes him believe that Isidora having been in the vessel must be in the hotel, which occasions some confusion among the parties; but on the arrival of Jaquelina to`rectify the error, the whole is cleared up, and the piece concludes.

This story is worked up with good effect, and some humour; it comes we understand, from the pen of Mr. Birch, jun. of Cornhill. The Music, which is very pretty, is by Mr. Atwood, and the whole went off with considerable applause.

19. "THE SIEGE OF MEAUX," a Tragedy of three acts, was presented for the first time at Covent-Garden, and received with unanimous applause. The author is Mr. Pye, the Poet-Laureat.

The fortress of Meaux being besieged by the English, a body of insurgents within the town, under the command of Dubois, shew a disposition to avail themselves of the first occasion for rapine and carnage. The Duke of Orleans is governor of the town; his principal officers are St. Pol and Douglas, both of whom are suitors to his daughter

Matilda, St. Pol, being rejected, determines, in the first moment of resentment, to join the faction under Dubois; and by the aid of his forces the governor is defeated, driven into the citadel, and Douglas and Matilda made prisoners. St. Pol finds himself slighted and disgraced by the faction he has aided; and his penitence being strengthened by the advice of his friend Clermont, he determines to retrieve his fallen honour. Dubois claims the hand of Matilda, and, to influence her determination, shews her lover Douglas on the eve of execution. At this interesting moment the din of arms is again heard; the lovers are freed, and the ferocity of Dubois punished with death. The atchievers of this rescue are the repentant St. Pol, and Captel de Bouche, an English officer, who, disdaining to owe the capture of the place to treachery, joins his arms to punish the mutineers. St. Pol, however, receives a mortal wound in the engagement, and thus retrieves the sacrifice of his honour, by that of his life.

The piece, which is highly creditable to the writer, was admirably supported in the performance, and was given out with loud applause for a future representation.

POETRY.

FOR THE FREEMASONS' MAGAZINE.

TH

INVOCATION TO MASONRY.

[BY MR. THOMAS DERMODY.]

HOU fairest type of Excellence divine,

Whose social links the race of man combine,

Whose awful mandates coward Vice controul,

And breathe through Nature one enlighten'd soul;
From thy mild sway benignant virtues rise,
Pour on the heart, and emulate the skies;
From thy sage voice sublime Instruction springs,
While Knowledge waves her many-colour'd wings,
And star-ey'd Truth, and Conscience, holy rest,
Enthrone TRUE FEELING in the glowing breast.
Then deign the labour of thy Sons to guide,
O'er each full line in nervous sense preside,
Adorn each verse, each manly thought inflame,
And what we gain from GENIUS give to FAME!

MASONIC ODE.

[BY MR. WILLIAM WALKER.]

TRIKE to melodious notes the golden lyre!

Till each rapt bosom catch the sacred fire,
And join the glorious theme!

'Tis Masonry,

The Art sublimely free,

Where Majesty has bow'd, and own'd, a Brother's name!
Thro' ample domes wide let the chorus roll,

Responsive to the ardour of the soul.

Hail! inspiring Masonry !

To thy shrine do myriads bend;
Yet more glorious shalt thou be,
Till o'er the world thy pow'r extend.

Still to the Sons of Earth thy light dispense,
And all shall own thy sacred influence,