The Heir at Law | Charles the Second

On Thursday evening
the second amateur performance took place to a
respectable audience. The dress circle was
crowded. The comedy or farce of the Heir at
Law, followed by the Merry Monarch, constituted
the entertainments of the evening. It would be
impossible to criticise minutely the acting of the
different gentlemen who have so good-humouredly
taken so much pains and gone to such expense to
amuse the public. But we may safely say, that
batling those unavoidable defects which only "stage
practice" can remove, their preformances were
creditable, and in many scenes effective. We
are glad to notice an improvement in the orchestral
department. A portion of the overture to Zamna,
in particular, was played with brilliancy and spirit.
It would be desirable, however, that some more
moderation should be observed in the accompani-
ments. Mr Charles Campbell's amusing song was
actually drowned by the noisy fiddling. The fol-
lowing Prologue, written by Mr Mann for the
occasion, was spoken by Mr Hamilton:—
In good Queen Ross's days, as legents tell,
England from every nation bore the bell.
Sage in her councils, foremost in the fight,
The haughty Spaniard quailed before her might
O'er the Pacific's wave of liquid gold.
Full on the breeze the red cross banner roll'd;
And where the storm tost billows fret, and foam
On Albion's cliffs, her navies found a home.
Council and battle past, in hall and bower}
Noble and peasant hailed the festive hour,}
And iron manhood bent to woman's power:}
Valour and beauty graced the gorgeous scene,
And lent a glory to the Tudor Queen.
'Twas tehn the drama rose—and Shakspere's name
Hallowed the age with an immortal's fame.
Each passion language found, and humorous thought,
And sparkling wit, their ready tribute brought
With sceptre'd pomp the tragic muse swept by.
And mirth and laughter crown'd our comedy.
That age has past—but still its works remain
To grace the triumphs of Victoria's reign.
Our ships and sailors still are hearts of oak—
Still the vexed ocean bears Britannia's yoke.
Still are our soldiers foremost in the war }
Witness Barrossa witness Trafalgar }
Our Nelson's glorious death, and Douro's ducal star. }
Has beauty lost its power? Nay, sceptic, gaze,
If gaze thou can'st, on yonder living blaze.
Be like the eagle, face that sunny ray
Or with the Persian, bend and own its sway.
No sceptics we dear woman's power we own, And willing captives bend before her throne;
Suppliants—but suppliants for a just applause
Suppliants for favor in the drama's cause.
That cause is yours—by him whose [?]
Pierced to the inmost depths of [woman?]
And in each character his pencil drew, }
Still kept to woman and to nature true. }
By Shakespere's honor'd manees, we call on you }
And to your triumphs, still one triumph more,
And rear the Drama on Australia's shore.