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FRANCES SHERIDAN.

BORN 1724 DIED 1766.

[Frances Sheridan, originally Frances Cham- | Dyce's Specimens of British Poetesses. A meberlayne, was born in the year 1724. Her moir of her life and writings has been written father was Dr. Philip Chamberlayne, a cele- by her grand-daughter Mrs. Lefanu. There brated and eccentric wit and dignitary of the can be little doubt that her son Richard BrinsIrish Church. Among his many rules for the ley Sheridan inherited from her a large porgood conduct of life was one which forbade tion of his wonderful genius.] his daughters to learn to write, as such a knowledge could only lead, he declared, to "the multiplication of love-letters." However, the result was as might be expected, for his daughter Frances not only learned that accomplishment, but also became a good Latin and Greek scholar.

Soon after passing out of her teens she produced her first work, a novel entitled Eugenia and Adelaide, said to be afterwards adapted to the stage by her daughter, and acted with success. She next tried her hand at sermonwriting, and published a couple out of the many that she produced in MS. This, however, was too slow-going work for her sharp intellect and vivid imagination, and when Thomas Sheridan, manager of the Theatre Royal, was in one of his troubles, she boldly adopted his cause and wrote a pamphlet in his defence. The work was not only clever but well-timed, and necessarily attracted the attention of Mr. Sheridan, who tried if possible to discover the author. This after a time he accomplished only by accident, and a friendship springing up between them, a marriage ensued.

After her marriage Mrs. Sheridan devoted herself chiefly to her pen; but, on account of ill health, the results of her labours were fewer than the world would wish. After lingering for years in a weak state, she died at Blois in the south of France, in the year 1766-7.

Mrs. Sheridan's principal works are Memoirs of Miss Sidney Biddulph, extracted from her own Journal, which "may be ranked with the first productions of that class in ours, or in any other language;" Nourjahad, a romance full of imaginative and picturesque writing; The Discovery, a comedy considered by Garrick, who played in it, to be one of the best plays he had ever read; The Dupe, another clever comedy; and The Trip to Bath, a play never acted nor published, but supposed to have been utilized by her son in his comedy The Rivals. In addition she wrote a considerable amount of verse, some of which is yet to be found in

ODE TO PATIENCE.

Unaw'd by threats, unmov'd by force,
My steady soul pursues her course,
Collected, calm, resign'd;

Say, you who search with curious eyes
The source whence human actions rise,
Say whence this turn of mind?—
'Tis Patience-lenient goddess, hail!
Oh! let thy votary's vows prevail,

Thy threatened flight to stay;
Long hast thou been a welcome guest,
Long reign'd an inmate in this breast,
And rul'd with gentle sway.

Through all the various turns of fate,
Ordained me in each several state

My wayward lot has known,
What taught me silently to bear,
To curb the sigh, to check the tear,
When sorrow weigh'd me down?-

'Twas Patience-Temperate goddess, stay!
For still thy dictates I obey,

Nor yield to passion's power;
Tho', by injurious foes borne down,
My fame, my toil, my hopes o'erthrown
In one ill-fated hour;

When, robb'd of what I held most dear,
My hands adorned the mournful bier
Of her I loved so well;
What, when mute sorrow chained my tongue
As o'er the sable hearse I hung,

Forbade the tide to swell?—

'Twas Patience-goddess ever calm!
Oh! pour into my breast thy balm,
That antidote to pain;
Which, flowing from the nectar'd urn,
By chemistry divine can turn
Our losses into gain.

When, sick and languishing in bed,
Sleep from my restless couch had fled

(Sleep which even pain beguiles), What taught me calmly to sustain A feverish being rack'd with pain,

And dress'd my looks in smiles?—

'Twas Patience-Heaven-descended maid! Implor'd, flew swiftly to my aid,

And lent her fostering breast, Watched my sad hours with parent care, Repell'd the approaches of despair,

And sooth'd my soul to rest.

Say, when dissever'd from his side, My friend, protector, and my guide,

When my prophetic soul, Anticipating all the storm, Saw danger in its direst form,

What could my fears control?—

'Twas Patience-gentle goddess, hear! Be ever to thy suppliant near,

Nor let one murmur rise;

Since still some mighty joys are given, Dear to her soul, the gifts of Heaven, The sweet domestic ties.

A WONDERFUL LOVER.

(FROM "THE DISCOVERY.")

Scene, LORD MEDWAY'S Study. Enter SIR
ANTHONY BRANVILLE and LORD MED-
WAY, meeting.

Lord Med. Sir Anthony, I am glad to see you; I was really in great pain for you yesterday, when I was obliged to leave you in the magic circle of Mrs. Knightly's charms: I wish you joy of your escape.

Sir A. Bran. My lord, I humbly thank you; 'tis a felicity to me, I acknowledge; for, my lord, there never was such a Syren, such a Circe! Sylla and Charybdis (of whom we read in fable) were harmless innocents to her! -but Heaven be praised, I am my own man again. And now, my lord, I am come, agreeably to the intimation I gave you before, to make a most respectful offering of my heart to the truly deserving and fair lady Louisa.

Lord Med. Sir Anthony, I have already told you I shall be proud of your alliance, and my daughter, I make no doubt, is sensible of your worth! Therefore, Sir Anthony, the shorter we make the wooing-women are slippery things you understand me.

sex (which I very greatly reverence), has, I am apprehensive, a little too much veracity in it. I have found it so to my cost-for, would you believe it, my lord, this cruel woman (Mrs. Knightly, I mean, begging her pardon for the epithet) is the eighth lady to whom I have made sincere, humble, and passionate love, within the space of these last thirteen years.

Lord Med. You surprise me, Sir Anthony; is it possible that a gentleman of your figure and accomplishments could be rejected by so many?

Sir A. Bran. I do not positively affirm, my lord, that I was rejected by them all; no, my lord, that would have been a severity not to be survived.

Lord Med. How was it then?

Sir A. Bran. Blemishes, my lord, foibles, imperfections in the fair ones, which obliged me (though reluctantly) to withdraw my heart.

Lord Med. Ho, ho! why then the fault was yours, Sir Anthony, not theirs.

Sir A. Bran. I deny that, my lord, with due submission to your better judgment, it was their fault; for the truth is, I never could get any of them to be serious. There is a levity, my lord, a kind of (if I may so call it) instability which runs through the gentler sex (whom, nevertheless, I admire) which I assure you has thus long deterred me from wedlock.

Lord Med. Then, Sir Anthony, I find you have been peculiarly unfortunate in the ladies whom you have addressed.

Sir A. Bran. Supremely so, my lord; for, notwithstanding that they all received my devoirs most indulgently, yet I do not know how it was, in the long run they either absolutely refused making me happy, or else were so extremely unguarded in their conduct, even before my face, that I thought I could not, consistently with honour, confer the title of Lady Branville on any one of them.

Lord Med. Your lot has been a little hard, I must confess. I hope, however, that honour has been reserved by fate for my daughter. She is your ninth mistress, Sir Anthony, and that, you know, is a propitious number.

Sir A. Bran. My lord, I take the liberty of hoping so too; and that she is destined to recompense me for the disappointments and indignities I have received from the rest of womankind.

Lord Med. Why then, Sir Anthony, I suppose I may now present you to her in the character of a lover.

Sir A. Bran. My lord, I pant for that hap

Sir A. Bran. Your lordship's insinuation, though derogatory to the honour of the fair | piness.

Lord Med. I'll call her, Sir AnthonySir A. Bran. As your lordship pleases-but, my lord, this widow Knightly

Lord Med. Was there ever such a phlegmatic blockhead! (Aside.) What of her, Sir Anthony?

Sir A. Bran. I own I loved her better than any of her predecessors in my heart.-Matters indeed had gone farther between us, for, my lord (not to injure a lady's reputation), I must tell you a secret-I have more than once pressed her hand with these lips.

Lord Med. Really!

Sir A. Bran. Fact, upon my veracity; I hope your lordship don't think me vain: and as she had indulged me such lengths, could I be censured for raising my wishes to the possession of this beauty?

Lord Med. By no means, Sir Anthony; but then her ill behaviour to you—

Sir A. Bran. Oh, my lord, it has blotted, and, as I may say, totally erased her image from my breast

Lord Med. Well, sir, I'll bring my daughter to you, whose image, I hope, will supply hers in your breast. [Exit. Sir A. Bran. I hope this tender fair one will not be too easily won- -that would debase the dignity of the passion, and deprive me of many delightful hours of languishment. There was a time when a lover was allowed the pleasure of importuning his mistress, but our modern beauties will scarce permit a man that satisfaction. Pray Heaven, my intended bride may not be one of those.-If it should prove so, I tremble for the consequences;but here she comes the condescending nymph approaches.

Enter LOUISA, led in by LORD Medway. Lord Med. Louisa, you are no stranger to Sir Anthony Branville's merit.

Sir A. Bran. Oh, my lord! [Bowing low. Lord Med. That he is a gentleman of family and fortune, of most unblemished honour, and very uncommon endowments.

delightful hope, that after having convinced you of the excess of my love—

Lou. I hope, Sir Anthony, you will allow me a reasonable time for this conviction!

Sir A. Bran. Madam, I should hold myself utterly abandoned if I were capable at the first onset (notwithstanding what passes here) of urging a lady on so nice a point.

Lou. I thank you, sir; but I could expect no less from a gentleman whom all the world allows to be the very pattern of decorum.

Sir A. Bran. 'Tis a character that I have always been ambitious of supporting, whatever struggles it may cost me from my natural fervour; for let me tell you, madam, a beautiful object is a dangerous enemy to decorum.

Lou. But your great prudence, Sir Anthony, leaves me no room to suspect—

Sir A. Bran. I am obliged to call it to my aid, I do assure you, madam; for, spite of the suggestions of passion, I by no means approve of those rash and impetuous lovers, who, without regard to the delicacy of the lady, would (having obtained consent), as it were, rush at once into her arms. You'll pardon me, madam, for so grossly expressing my idea.

Lou. Oh, Sir Anthony, I am charmed with your notions, so refined! so generous! and, I must add (though it may appear vain), so correspondent with my own.

Sir A. Bran. Madam, I am transported to hear you say so! I am at this minute in an absolute ecstasy! Will you permit me, dear madam, the ravishing satisfaction of throwing myself at your feet?

Lou. By no means, Sir Anthony; I could not bear to see a gentleman of your dignity in so humble a posture; I will suppose it done, if you please.

Sir A. Bran. I prostrate myself in imagination, I assure you, madam.

Lou. Now, Sir Anthony, as you see my papa is impatient for the honour of being related to you, and that I am bound to an implicit obedience, I am afraid, unless your prudence interposes, that we shall both be hurried

Sir A. Bran. Oh, my good lord, ordinary, into wedlock with a precipitancy very inconslight accomplishments. sistent with propriety.

Lord Med. You are therefore to think yourself happy in being his choice preferably to any other lady. And now, Sir Anthony, I'll leave you to pursue your good fortune.

[Exit Lord Medway.

Lou. Sir, won't you please to sit? Sir A. Bran. Miss Medway, madam-having obtained my lord your father's permission, I humbly presume to approach you in the

Sir A. Bran. I declare, madam, I am of your ladyship's opinion, and am almost apprehensive of the same thing

Lou. How is this to be avoided, sir?

Sir A. Bran. Be assured, madam, I too well know what is due to virgin modesty, to proceed with that rapidity which my lord (with whom I have not the honour of agreeing in this particular) seemeth to recommend.

Lou. You are very kind, Sir Anthony. Sir A. Bran. Oh, madam, I should pay but an ill compliment to your transcending merit if I did not think it worth sighing for a considerable time longer, I assure you.

Lou. That's very noble in you, Sir Anthony -So passionate! and yet so nice if all lovers were but like you!

Sir A. Bran. The world, I will presume to say, would be the better, madam-but then I hope your rigours will not extend too far, my dear lady-a few months or so-longer than that I should be very near tempted to call cruel, I can tell you.

Lou. (Rising.) Sir, I won't detain you. Sir A. Bran. I must absolutely tear myself from you, madam, for gazing on so many charms I may grow unmindful of the danger. Lou. Sir, I will no longer trespass on your

time.

Sir A. Bran. I must fly, madam, lest I should be tempted to transgress those rigid bounds I have prescribed to myself.

Lou. Sir, you have my consent to retire. Sir A. Bran. I am so overpowered with transport, madam, that I hold it necessary to withdraw.

Lou. "Tis the best way, sir.

Lou. As my passionate lover seems so well disposed to wait, I may chance to escape him. (Aside.) Your extraordinary merit, Sir Anthony, will undoubtedly shorten your time of probation-Meanwhile, as I hinted to you before, that my papa is rather in haste to call you son, I would not have him imagine that I gave any delay to this union. He may call my duty in question, which he expects should keep pace with his own wishes-you appre--this is fortunate beyond hopes. hend me, sir?

Sir A. Bran. Dear madam, vouchsafe one gracious smile to your adorer.

Lou. Sir Anthony, your humble servant. [Smiles and curtsies. Sir A. Bran. Madam, your most devotedoh dawning of ecstatic bliss! [Exit.

Sir A. Bran. Perfectly, my dear madam, and if I may presume to interpret what you have so charmingly insinuated to my apprehension, you would have me just hint to my lord that you are not quite averse to honouring me with your fair hand.

Lou. That I am ready to do so, if you please, Sir Anthony.

Sir A. Bran. Very good, but at the same time I shall give him to understand that I am not as yet entitled to receive that very great happiness. Lou. To that purpose, sir, for I would not have this necessary delay appear to be of my choosing.

Sir A. Bran. You little know, madam, the violence I do myself to repress the ardour of my flames; but patience is a prime virtue in a lover, and Scipio himself never practised self-denial with more success than I have done.

Lou. I rely entirely on your discretion, Sir Anthony, to manage this affair with my papa. Sir A. Bran. Oh, madam, I shall convince my lord that it is from very sublime motives I submit to postpone my felicity.

Lou. I am much obliged to you, Sir Anthony, for this generous proof of your passionate regard to me.

Sir A. Bran. You'll find, madam, I do not love at the ordinary rate-but I must not indulge myself too long on the tender subject. I doubt it is not safe.

Lou. Ha, ha, ha! I think I may now go, and very safely assure my papa that I am ready to take my adorer whenever he pleases [Exit.

A ROMANTIC LOVE-MATCH.

(FROM "SIDNEY BIDDULPH.")

We have had a wedding to-day in our neighbourhood. It seems this pair had been fond of each other from their childhood, but the girl's fortune put her above her lover's hopes.

However, as he has for a good while been in a very great business, and has the reputation of being better skilled than any one in the country in his profession, he was in hopes that his character, his mistress's affection for him, and his own constancy would have some little weight with her family. Accordingly he ventured to make his application to the young woman's brother, at whose disposal she was, her father having been dead for some years; but he was rejected with scorn, and forbid the house.

The girl's father, it seems, had been a humorist, and left her the fortune under a severe restriction, for if ever she married without her brother's consent she was to lose it, so that, in that particular instance of disposing of her person, she was never to be her own mistress. In the disposal of her fortune, however, he did not so tie her up, for after the age of one-and-twenty she had the power of bequeathing her fortune by will to whom she pleased.

The brother, who is a very honest man, had no motive but a regard to his sister's interest in refusing poor Mr. Main; a man of a good fortune had proposed for her, whom the brother importuned her to accept of; but she was firm to her first attachment.

The young lover found means to convey a letter to his mistress, in which he told her that as he was in circumstances to support her genteelly, if she would venture to accept of his hand he would never more bestow a thought on her fortune. This proposal the prudent young woman declined on her own part, but advised him to make it to her brother, as she was not then without suspicions that he wished to retain her fortune in the family, and that it was only to save appearances he had proposed a match to her, of which he was sure she would not accept. But in this opinion she injured him. She thought, however, the experiment might be of use, in giving the better colour to her marrying afterwards the man whom she loved.

But it was an ill-judged attempt, and succeeded accordingly; for if the brother should have given his consent he could have no pretence for withholding her portion; or, if he did so by mutual agreement, his motive for denying his consent before must appear too obviously to be a bad one.

The young people not considering this sufficiently, resolved to make the trial; accordingly Mr. Main wrote to the brother a very submissive letter, telling him he would in the most solemn manner relinquish all claim to his sister's fortune, if he would make him happy by consenting to their marriage; without which, he said, the young lady's regard for her brother would not suffer her to take such a step.

These transactions happened sometime before I came to the country. Just about that juncture the poor girl had the misfortune to receive a hurt in her breast by falling against the sharp corner of a desk from a stool on which she had stood in order to reach down a book that was in a little case over it. This accident threw her into a fit of illness, which put a stop to all correspondence between her and her lover.

In this illness a fever, which was her apparent complaint, was the only thing to which the physician paid attention, and the hurt in her breast was not inquired after; so that by the time she was tolerably recovered from the former, the latter was discovered to be in a very dangerous way, and required the immediate assistance of a surgeon. You may be sure poor Main was not the person pitched upon to attend her, another was called in of less skill, but not so obnoxious to the family.

By this bungler she was tortured for near three months; at the end of which time, through improper treatment, the malady was so far increased that the operator declared the breast must be taken off, as the only possible means of saving the life.

The young gentlewoman's family were all in the greatest affliction, she herself seemed the only composed person amongst them. She appointed the day when she was to undergo this severe trial of her fortitude: it was at the distance of about a week. The surgeon objected to the having it put off so long, but she was peremptory and at last prevailed.

On the evening preceding the appointed day she conjured her brother in the most earnest manner to permit Mr. Main to be present at the operation. The brother was unwilling to comply, as he thought it might very much discompose her, but she was so extremely press

This letter had no other effect than that of making the brother extremely angry. He sent a severe message to the young man to acquainting that he was constrained to yield. him that he looked upon his proposal as a most injurious affront to his character; but that he was ready to convince him, and everybody else, that he had no designs upon his sister's fortune, as he would not refuse his consent to her marriage with any other man in the country but himself. This was a thunderclap to the poor lover; he comforted himself, however, with the hopes that his mistress's heart would determine her in his favour, notwithstanding the severity of the brother.

The attending surgeon was consulted on the occasion, who having declared that he had no objection to Mr. Main's being present, that young man was sent to. He had been quite inconsolable at the accounts he received of the dangerous state in which his mistress was, and went with an aching heart to her brother's house in the morning.

There had been, it seems, besides this gentleman not thinking Main a suitable match for his sister, some old family pique between him and Mr. Main's father.

He was introduced into her chamber, where he found the whole chirurgical apparatus ready. The young woman herself was in her closet, but came out in a few minutes with a countenance perfectly serene. She seated herself in an elbow-chair, and desired she might be indulged for a quarter of an hour to speak

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