his songs, &c. for these being of no language, cannot be so well communicated as by sounds.

Yet, with this species of talent, has O'Keefe gladdened the hearts of his auditors for near thirty years, and "sent them laughing to their beds" and all this he has done in the hearing of good scholars, good writers, and good critics. He has often done more-he has been the constant advocate for virtue; and in many of his little pieces, he has given sketches of character, which, though unfinished, can boast of much originality-some passages that warm and meliorate the heart, and others which mark no mean attention to life and manners.

If he has not, therefore, equalled many of our dramatic writers in genius, he has escaped their vices; if he has not shewn as much science of the art, he is freed from their prosaic drowsiness. He is constantly looking for fun and broad humor, which are chiefly to be found in the middle and lower classes of life, and he is generally successful: he is, therefore, bounded by no dramatic laws; and if he keeps the laugh up in this view, he is free from censure. The manners of the middling and lower classes of life, have been always too much neglected by our modern dramatic writers, who do.this, as Mr. Bayes says, shew their breeding;" but such should consider

T3

"to

that,

that, although Ladies and Gentlemen have their peculiar vices and virtues, the general character of man is best distinguished where nature is less adulterated-where the heart and tongue have full play, and consequently have less incitement to flattery, lying, and hypocrisy.

In the extensive list of dramatic writers, perhaps no one can be better compared to Mr. O'Keefe than the celebrated Tom D'Urfey, who wrote in the reign of Charles II. The latter's. pieces certainly do not boast the purity of the former, as, though the Author has not been dead above seventy years, there is not one of his dramatic works entirely fit for modern representation: but this is owing to the corruption of the age he lived in, when the success of a play depended on this mode of writing-otherwise (and we have it from the pen of Addison) "there could not be a more cheerful, honest, goodBut the comparison may be

natured man."

been acquainted with one another so long as it had been a 'tongue."

In the moral character of D'Urfey's pieces, this parallel will run no further, as out of the thirty-one plays he brought forward, not one is to be found on the present stock list of any Theatre: nor is this to be attributed to the obsoleteness of language or character, (as the Author only died in the year 1723,) but to the viciousness of - the Court he first took root in, and which banished almost all decency and decorum from the Stage.

Whatever are the defects of O'Keefe's pieces, they cannot be charged with either immorality, or indecency-no man has succeeded in the broad laugh more inoffensively-he might at times be trivial, but he is seldom or never coarse; and though many of his plays have not the seeds of longevity in them, his "Wild Oats," "Son-in-Law," "Poor Soldier," &c. possess that simplicity of humor, and moral impression, that it must be more the neglect of the times than their demerit, if they are not long found in the course of representation.

So much for O'Keefe; an Author who has contributed too long to the amusement of the public, to be omitted in the dramatic history of his times.

After Macklin had exhausted, in a great degree, the novelty of his True-Born Scotchman at Smock Alley, he again veered about to Crow Street Theatre, under the management of Mr. Dawson; an inferior Actor, in point of theatrical merit, but a man who had accumulated some money, had much assiduity, and possessed the trust and confidence of his brother performers.

With

With him he continued, not more than a season, with some kind of success-but not enough to satisfy his own fame, which was always impelled by a love of vanity. He accordingly, at the end of his engagement, quitted, seemingly, the Irish Theatres for ever, and came over to Englandnot only to obtain a permanent situation, but to open a scene of professional business, perhaps unequalled in the annals of the drama.

Macklin was now, by his own account, seventythree years of age, (but by very strong circumstances, which we have already stated, eightythree,) at either of which periods men seldom arrive; and when they do, generally dedicate the few remaining years allotted them, to repose and retirement. But our veteran was not of this complexion. By nature strong, healthy, and vigorous, he looked to no common calculations of life; and as men who feel no approximations to illness or decay, look more forward, Macklin not only felt the ardour of profession as strong as ever, but adverted to new experiments; experiments not founded merely on greater acquisitions of science, and long observation in the parts he was in possession of-but on the dignity, sublimity, and pathos of tragic character. In short, having long convinced the town of his abilities in a certain line of performance, he would now come forward in all the pomp of Imperial Tragedy;

and