THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE;' A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS; AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY LANE. BY RICHARD CUMBERLAND, Esq. PRINTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS ROM THE PROMPT BOOK. WITH REMARKS BY MRS. INCHBALD. LONDON: PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, PATERNOSTER ROW. REMARKS. Never was there one play taken from another with such ingenuity, such nice art, and so little injury to either, as this play has been taken from the German "Misanthropy and Repentance;" leaving still the German to be translated into English by the title of "The Stranger." It is said, Mr. Cumberland merely saw a critique on Kotzebue's drama, in a review, some years before it was brought upon the London stage; and from thence collected substance for this most interesting play. But whether he had in his possession the German production or not, it is certain he is no farther indebted to the foreign author, than for a faint glimmering of plot, incident, and character; to which he has added his own original sunshine. A reader may peruse the two plays in one evening, and yet be highly delighted with both-they are performed on succeeding nights, yet auditors go successively to the theatre; and certain spectators do not even find a resemblance between them. "The Stranger," in one high instance, is pre-eminent to "The Wheel of Fortune"-the female character is there of infinite importance. But want of taste is not the fault of Mr. Cumberland, for diminishing the pathos of his heroine;-his feeling and delicacy would not permit her fall from virtue. But still his gallantry ought to have furnished a lady with a little more to say in the scenes, where she is concerned, and it would have increased the interest of his play. As it is, Kemble, in Penruddock, stands forth another Atlas with the whole Dramatis Persona on his shoulders; and sure enough they are a heavy load—yet, he moves steadily, firmly, and triumphantly under the burthen. Perhaps, in no one character, he performs, does Kemble evince himself a more complete master of his art than in Penruddock. The dignity of mind and mien, which appears under his old coarse clothes, and the tenderness of his love, beneath the roughest manners, are so wonderfully impressive; that an audience (without admiration for the personal or intellectual endowments of the object of his affection) commiserate his passion, and feel its power in every fibre with himself. It is one of the reproaches on Mr. Kemble, as an actor, that he cannot paint the passion of love-nor can he, in water colours, as it is usually done-but give him materials for a bold picture, and no artist can touch the canvass like him. The truth is, Kemble cannot love moderately—sighs, soft complainings, a plaintive voice, and tender looks, bespeak mere moderation-he must be struck to the heart's core, or not at all:-he must be wounded to the soul with grief, despair, or madness. Old men, in love, have caused more laughter and |