THE THEATRES.

We commence our present dramatic notice, as we concluded the last, with an " all hail" to SHERIDAN KNOWLES'S new comedy ; our an. ticipations of its excellence having been fully realized after it has un- dergone the double test of performance and perusal. Some of on, contemporaries have been strangely oblivious in stating this production to be the first comedy Mr. Keowtes has given to the stage. We did not conceive it possible that the impression made by The Hunchback could ever have been effaced from the recollection of any one in the slightest degree .conversant with dramatic literature. If The Lore. Chase do not excite !o.intcnse an interest in the serious passages as its predecessor, it is ritsoliguished by greater buoyancy of spirit in the comic scenes. The limour is more rich, and less quaint ; and the manners of the characters n:e more life-like than those of their ;occur, sors in 7'he Hunchback. There is equal freedom in the delineation of the general outline, while at the same time there is more grace:Nimes in the execution ot every individual trait than our author has hereto. fore shown. His diction, too, flows more easily, and seems to gush and sparkle fresh from the fountain of his own genius, rather than to be drawn from the " pure wells of English " which have been the sources of his copiousness and fertility. The very name of the play must have been conceived in a moment of happy inspiration. There are scores, nay hundreds, of dramas in the prompter's cata- logue, of which " Love " is the prenomen, from Love el la Mode down to Love's Wekotne ; hut where is one so felicitously de- nominated as the Love. Chasct In a work of less merit, the story would deserve high praise ; yet it appears, in the progress of the play, to have been invented for the sole purpose of developing the charac. teristies of the dramatis persona. The chief of these are three couples, who, like SHAESCE ARE'S SMOIOUS Mike, " Inttit the hart" through all its doubling., crossings, and wiudings. The most ha. morous pair are a stout old gentleman of threescore. arid-two and a buxom widow of forty. This lady is led to believe herself the ii costly game " desired by a young and handsome gallant ; the real object of whose pursuit is a fair and virtuous maiden in the Widow's service. The merriest couple in the group are a Lincolnshire sports. man and a gcodhumnured shrew, datighoo of the Widow's suitor. A playful warfare has been carried on from their childhood between these country 0 neighbours ;" who would never discover how necessary they are to each other's happiness, but for the intereention of an important agent in the promotion of the " chase." This personage excites at once the lady's love and jealousy, by the intelligence of her neigh. hour's approaching moulage. By similar means, the squire is worked up to such a pitch of love for his mirthful tormentor, that he resolves to give up horses, dogs, and all his country sports, and to devote himself to the pursuit of

" the lily wl.be ii e Tl. tes ftitly worth !het..

The perplexities of this couple, while et.t.;ugod in their sierpleAase, form the most oniusing portion of this rit.li;litful comedy. It must be cunfe-sol tlot the wit ls MI on the hly's Ade: indeed, the author's fondest C;11*C i•Ve!:',F, to have 1.)...en he-tow, d in the completion of this charancr; t inch, like that of JuL'a in Re liirdlitreich. may challengo a comptaison v.ltli aby feridhine hi tt t %elude range of per drama. As the play will be rend or sr cvt_ry individual interceed in such mattcro :re not Oiseril,e !...ther the detail- of the plot. Let it suffice to suy, that all C..stricles t:.a s ace,sltil termination ci the " love-cl,ir.e " having been removed, the play concludes right mer. illy with a leosh of weddings.

The d.hIt we experienced in witnessiog the production of a comedy

which displays inuch of the beauty and power of our early dramatists without a particle of their gross oess, retitlem s the task of fault-finding both difficult and disagreeable. Yet, to save our credit as critics, we must say, that, although we were not displeased with many passages which bore a resemblance to some in Much Ado About Nothing, it cannot be denied that the last scene reminds the auditors, disadvantageously, of the termination of that exquisite comedy. Perhaps this blemish might in some degree be obviated if a spirited speech at the conclusion were to be delivered by the sprightly vixen. The lines at present spoken by the Widow are exceedingly tame, amid to us obscure. Neighbour Constance certainly ought to have the last word. The pschycological deductions drawn from the sight of Lydia's band and ankle, although exceedingly beautiful, are very much out of character in the mouth of Waller's fe- male donitstic. A more serious objection is to be made to the conduct of the re I:Joinder of the same scene between Waller tied Lydia. The display of sensibility and firmness of principle in the mind of this lovely girl, is a fine conception of the author ; but we fear it is en- cuted with a degree of boldness which it would be difficult to justify. At all events, we would counsel all young ladies of our acquaintance to fly from such a perilous trial, lest they should not be so "sternly reso- lute" as the virtuous Lydia proves herself. It is but fair to add, that this was one of the most effective scenes in the play ;—which. WES received throughout with enthusiastic approbation, by an exceedingly intelligent, but we are ashamed to say, not an over-crowded auditory. In recording the merits of the performers, justice and politeness alike demand that we should give precedence to the ladies. Frequently as we have been gratified by the elegance and vivacity of Mrs. :sm. SETT'S personifications, till we witnessed her appearance in Neighbour Constance, we had not any conception of the brilliancy of her talents and the accuracy of her judgment. She caught the full meaning of this finely-drawn part, and conveyed its spirit to the audience with a fascinating power which drew forth reiterated plaudits in every scene. Her delivery of the beautiful language with which she was intrusted was easy and natural, yet full of point, enforced by action characterisecally vigorous but not unfeminine, and graceful without the slightest touch of affectation. The triumph achieved by this charming actress has confirmed us in the opinion we have long entertained, that our comedians only want similar original opportunities of displaying their talents to free themselves from the reproach of being inferior to their predecessors. We have a perfect recollection of every eminent actress of the present century, and we cannot call to mind one whose. efforts would have surpassed in fidelity or excellence those of Mrs. Nessire on Monday night. We trust that the encouragement Miss VANDENHOFT has received thus early in her professional career will enable her to divest herself entirely of the timidity that acts as a constraint upon. her deportment and voice in scenes of level dialogue, and. yet which she can at once cast off when great occasions call on her for exertion. In the scenes with her wayward lover Waller, particulatly that which we have ad- verted to in our account of the play, this young lady exhibited intelli- gence and feeling, which, combined with her personal attractions, ought speedily to secure her a high place in the favour of the public. Our old acquaintance, Mrs. GLOVER, (what playgoer does not feel as if she were his acquaintance?) entered so heartily into the cause of the author, and acted the jolly Widow with such an appropriate mellow- ness of mirth, that if Mr. KNOWLES had not been a married man, he must have mnde her an offer of his hand before the play was concluded. Dlr. STRICKLAND looked the hale old baronet to the life : his head was a subject worthy the pencil of a REMBRANDT. This performer would long ago have ranked with the first comedians of the day, if his style of acting had been original. Unfortunately for our enjoyment as well as for his own reputation, he is an inveterate copyist of the late emi- nent actor Altoenee ; whose portraits of the " fine old English gentle- man" were vitiated. by a portion of grimace, which his successors would do well to omtt. At the commencement of the Love-Chase, however, Mr. STRICKLAND seemed to have forgotten his customary model, and appeared to have taken nature and his author for guides. The effect produced by the following scene might excite the regret of FABREN for having missed so rare an opportunity of exeicising his genius.

SIR WILLIAM.

Thank you, thank you—I believe it

When o:bers waste, 'tis growine time with me!

I feel it, Master Trueworth! Vigour, Sir,

In every joint of me l—could run ! could leap! Why shouldn't I marry? Kt.ife and fork I play

Better than many a boy oft vu nty-five- Why shouldn't I marry? If they come to wine, My brace of bottles can I carry hoaie, And ue'er a he alache. Death ! why shouldn't I marry ?

TRUEWORT3.

I see in nature no impediment.

SIR WILLIAM.

Impediment? she's all appliances !— And Fortune's with me too ! The Widow Green Gives hints to me. The pleasant Widow Green!

Whose fortieth year, instead of a tami, brings A second summer in. Odds bodikens, How young she looks! What life is in her eyes!

What ease is in her gait ! while, as she walks, Her waist, still tapering, takes it pliantly !

How lollingly she bears her head withal

On this side now—now that ! When enters she

A drawing-room, what worlds if gracious things Her courtesy says l—she sinks with such a sway,

Greeting on either hand the comp my,

Then slowly rises to her state again !

She is the empress of the card.table!

lier hand and arm !—Gods, did you se .1 her deal—

With curved and pliant wrist divense the park, Which at the touch of her fair fingers fly ! How soft she speaks—how very soft! Her voice Cows melting from her round sad swelling throat,

Enter TRUEWORTH to SIR WILLIAM FONDLOVE. Ab, Master Trueworth! Welcome, Master Trueworth !

TRUIWORTII.

Thanks, Sir ; I am glad you look so well!

SIR WILLIAM.

Ah, Master Trueworth, when one tetras the Lill, 'Tis rapid going down ! We climb by steps; By strides we reach the bottom. Look at me, And guess my age.

Turaed fifty.

Ten years more! How marvellously well I wear ! I think You would not flatter me !—But scan me close,

And pryingly, as one who seeks a thing He means to find—What signs of age dust see?

TREEWOUTH.

None ! SIR. WILLIAM.

None about the corners of the eyes?

Lines that diverge like to the spider's joints,

Whereon he builds his airy fort e? They call them crow's feet—has the ugly bird

Been perching there ? Eli ?—Well?

TRUEWORTII.

There's something like,

But not what one must see unless he's blind Like steeple on a SIP. w ILL1A 1%1—after a pause.

Your eyes are good !

I am certainly a wonder for my age; I walk as well as ever ! Do I stoop?

TRUEWORTH.

A plummet from your head would find your heel.

SIR WILLIAM.

It is my make—my make, good Master Truewurtb ; I do not study it. Do you observe The hollow in my back ? That's natural. As now I stand, so stood I when a child, A rosy chubby boy !—I am youthful to A miracle! My arm is firm es 'twas

At twenty. Feel it !

MA51'1:1t TRUEWORTH —.raging &I' WILLIAM'S arm. It is deal !

SIR WILLIAM.

Oa'— oak, Isn't it, Master Trueworth?Thou haat known me

Ten years aud upwarIs. Think'st my leg is shrunk? TRUEWORTII. Slit WILLIAM.

No! nit in the calf?

TRIVEWORTII.

As big a calf As ever.

TRVEWORTIt.

SIR WILLIAM.

Reminding you of sweetest, mellowest things-- Plums, peaches, apricots, and nectarines— Whose bloom is poor to paint her cheeks and lips. By Jove, 1'11 marry !

In this scene, indeed throughout the play, we were delighted with the chaste and gentleman-like performance of the long and arduous part of Trueworth by Mr. HEMMINGS. The subtile expression of irony which accompanied his delivery of the few words "As big a calf as ever," could lint have been exceeded by (linnet:a KEMBLE in his best day. In the Lorewells, Welltorns, and Weilbreds of our old comedies, Mr. HEMMINGS will prove a great acquisition to this theatre. The purity of Lis style does honour to the school in which he has been trained, and proves that something more of the actor's art than mere caricature is to be seen and learned at the Adel*. The author is especially indebted to Mr. E:urox for the pains he took with a character rather opposed to his usual professional habits, and in which he could only hope to add to his reputation for mere diligence. We regret that Mr. WEeeren undertook to represent the part of Wildrahe ; in the execution of sthich task he was far from being fortunate. But we are so much indebted to him for the spirit he has shown in producing the play at his theatre, that we shall not at present attempt the ungracicus duty of convincing this liberal manager and meritorione actor, that he will infallibly iejure his reputation and diminish his receipts by de- parting from the line of /our-comedy characters, in which his excellence is recognized by the public. Once more, all hail to the new comedy of SHERIDAN KNOWLES !