ay, but such a one, as what age shall expect to see the like! It would make an actor's fortune to have all the faces that Munden can exhibit, after counting an hundred!

Joe Standfast could not have found a more characteristic representative than Mr. Fawcett. It was a delightful thing to see these two capital actors keeping up the ball of comicality between them. The humour of Fawcett is palpable and point-blank-rough and ready. That of Munden is somewhat coquettish-it is coy, and must be wooed; but, when fairly up, it is as broad as a waggon-wheel! Of pathos, they are equal masterssimple, natural, affecting. Siddons scarcely drew more tears in Isabella, than Munden, in Old Dornton, and Fawcett, in Job Thornberry. When speaking of pathos, in comic actors, can we forget Bannister?-His Walter, in The Children in the Wood, was wonderfully impressive; but his Michael, in The Adopted Child,—

"(If you have tears, prepare to shed them now)"—

was sublime..

The author of this farce is Mr. Thomas Knight, who, for many years, was a distinguished actor at CoventGarden Theatre; on which stage he made his first appearance, September 25, 1796. His great parts were Jacob Gawky, in the Chapter of Accidents, and Farmer Ashfield (of which he was the original representative), in Speed the Plough. His other dramatic productions are Thelypthora, Trudge and Wowski, and Honest

Thieves.

D—G.

The lines marked with inverted commas are omitted in the

representation.

Costume.

SIR EDWARD.-Drab shooting-jacket-buff waistcoat-breeches -gaiters-shoes-hat-shot-belt.

BLUNT.-First dress: Green frock-scarlet waistcoat-mixed kerseymere breeches. Second dress: Naval captain's uniform. SMART.-Blue livery jacket, with epaulet-buff waistcoatbreeches, &c.

JOE STANDFAST.-Blue naval coat, with white lining-blue breeches-striped waistcoat.

CRACK.-Scarlet waistcoat (very much patched), with black sleeves-black breeches-blue stockings-leather apron.

MAYTHORN.-An old man's light drab suit.

ROBERT MAYTHORN.-Countryman's mixed coat-leather breeches-scarlet waistcoat-blue stockings, &c.

STEWARD.-Black suit.

GROOM.-Light frock coat-drab breeches-gaiters.

BAILIFF.-Brown coat-red waistcoat-brown breeches-coloured stockings.

LANDLADY.-Light chintz muslin gown-book muslin kerchief-white muslin apron-black mittens-muslin cap and ribbons. PEGGY.-Coloured muslin dress-village hat.

MARY.-Gray-coloured dress, trimmed with pink-apron of the name-white stockings-black shoes.

THE TURNPIKE GATE.

ACT I.

SCENE I-A Public-House-Sign of the Admiral, R. S. E.-A Turnpike and House, L.-In background a Mill-House, with latticed Windows-Smart discovered preparing guns for shooting.

SIR EDWARD within Public-house.

Smart, get the guns ready. Is my new keeper come from the lodge?

Smart. No, Sir Edward.

Enter PEGGY, R. S. E., crossing the stage with a milk-jug. Servant, Miss Peggy. [She sneers.] Ugh! a kiss from my master has raised your nose an inch higher, I see.' Peg. Joke with your equals, man: don't talk to me. [Exit conceitedly into milkhouse. Smart. I shall make you remember this. My master's grand Turk here. He monopolizes all the wenches.

Enter HENRY BLUNT, L., in shooting-dress, with gun, singing.

Hen. (L.) Morrow, fellow servant-Sir Edward stirring?

Smart. (R.) Yes; just asked for you: mind your hits to-day, Mr. Henry. You shot for your place, and won it; but you'd better not out-shoot Sir Edward.

Hen. Oh, oh!-vain of his abilities that way, ha? Smart. That way! yes, and every other; I've dropped being his rival some time.

Hen. Sir Edward seems to have a fine estate here? Smurt. Yes, that belonging to the lodge is eight hundred a-year; the Upland farm, three; and his estate in Norfolk, as much as both.

Hen. The lodge being but at the head of the village, why does he prefer a bed at this public-house?

Smart. Pleasure, sir, pleasure. But here comes one

answer to your two questions.-Step this way, and I'll give you another. [They retire, R. Enter PEGGY, from the milkhouse, followed by ROBERT

MAYTHORN.

Rob. If that be your mind, Peggy, it can't be helped. -If you can't love me, you can't.

Sir E. [Within.] Peggy, my dear-bring my breakfast. Peg. Coming, Sir Edward-I've only been to fetch the cream. You hear, Robert?

Rob. Yes, I do hear, and zee, too-I be neither deaf nor blind.

Peg. The young baronet expects me above.

Rob. 'Tis well if old Beelzebub don't expect thee below; zo, there's an end of that:-however, dang it, let's shake hands.

Peg. Paws off, if you please; your hands are rough, man, and I can't bear anything dirty or sun-burnt.

AIR-PEGGY.

Pray, young man, your suit give over,
Heaven designed you not for me;

Cease to be a whining lover,

Sour and sweet can ne'er agree:
Clownish in each limb and feature,
You've no skill to dance or sing:
At best, you're but an awkward creature,-
I, you know, am quite the thing.
As I soon may roll in pleasure,
Bumpkins I must bid adieu;
Can you think that such a treasure
Ere was destin'd, man, for you?
No-mayhap, when I am carried
'Mongst the great to dance and sing,
To some great lord I may be married;
All allow-I'm quite the thing.
"Beaux to me will then be kneeling, -
Ma'am, I die, if you don't yield;
Let 'em plead their tender feeling,
While my tender heart is steel'd.
When I dance, they'll be delighted,
Ravished quite to hear me sing;
At routs, whenever I'm invited,

All will swear I'm quite the thing.
[Exeunt Peggy into Public-house, R. S. E.-)
Henry Blunt und Smart advance.

-Robert, L.,

Smart. (L.) Ha, ha! Oh, you bumpkin! I was romping with his sweetheart last night, and he was at me like a bull-dog; the mastiff would bite, sir, but we have muzzled him.

Hen. (R.) As how?

Smart. Management, sir; his father lives at that turnpike-house, which, with a small dairy and farm, he holds of Sir Edward. The old fellow has seen better days; the admiral, who died a twelvemonth since, and to whom Sir Edward is heir-at-law, was very partial to him and his daughter, for during his life they needed nothing; but, being in arrears for rent, they are all muzzled now-all at Sir Edward's mercy. Young Sulky, therefore, must lose his sweetheart; and, as to the Turnpike Beauty, his sister, we have offered her a curricle, and if she does not sport it in Bond Street in less than a month, we don't understand trap.

Hen. What, she encourages him?

Smart. A little coy, or so; but she's one of your dieaway dames; in the dumps, too, at present, for the loss of her "True Lovier," (a booby sailor): but I'll bet fifty she's easier had than little forward here, with all her avarice and vanity.

ROBERT appears, L.

That's the lad who tried his skill with me for the gamekeeper's place.

Smart. The same.

[Robert advances. Hen. [Crosses, c.] Morrow, brother sportsman-you shoot well.

Rob. (L.) Yes, sir,- and you better. However, 'twas all fair, and I do wish you joy of the place.

Hen. (c.) Nay, the place may be your's yet :--I am elected only to trial, and self-recommended: my character, when it comes, may not please Sir Edward. You be much in favour, ben't you, Mr. Smart?

Rob. Mayhap, you'd please him best with noo character at all. Smart. (R.) Ha!--[Stares, and makes signs of boxing.] [Sulkily. Oh! [Exit, R. S. E.

Hen. Things are a little changed since Sir Edward came among you. Ha, Robert!

Rob. Yes, sir; another Laayer would ha' done less mischief in the parish; but it is not the first time the devil got into Paradise. [Robert retires into milkhouse.