The female Polycrates who suffers under the
curse of inevitable and intolerable good-fortune is an admirable
creature of broad comedy that never subsides or overflows or degenerates
into farce.
"A Match at Midnight" is as notable for vivid impression of reality, but
not so likely to leave a good taste--as Charlotte Bronte might haye
said--in the reader's mouth. Ancient Young, the hero, is a fine fellow;
but Messrs. Earlack and Carvegut are hardly amusing enough to reconcile
us to toleration of such bad company. It is cleverly composed, and the
crosses and chances of the night are ingeniously and effectively
invented and arranged: there is real and good broad humor in the parts
of the usurer and his sons and the attractive but unwidowed Widow Wag.
And I am not only free to admit but desirous to remark that a juster and
more valuable judgment on such plays as these than any that I could
undertake to deliver may very possibly be expected from readers whom
they may more thoroughly arride--to use a favorite phrase of the all,
but impeccable critic, the all but infallible judge, whose praise has
set the name of Rowley so high in the rank of realistic painters and
historic naturalists forever.
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