This comedy has neither wit nor sentiment—but it has, instead, swearing, lying, and imposture.—These vices are, however, mingled so dexterously with interesting plot, excellent occurrence, and some bold characters, that the whole composition is entertaining on the stage; though it must infallibly create animadversion, both there, and in the closet.²

As soon as an English writer finds himself on Spanish ground, as in this play, there is no event, however impossible, that he does not treat as a probability; and an audience, on such occasions, no sooner find their imagination led somewhat too far into the regions of fancy, then, calling to mind that the scene is placed in a foreign country, they begin to account every circumstance natural, however contrary to the rules of reason—as if reason presided alone over the island of Great Britain.

The reader of "She would and she would not," will have occasion, very often, to recollect, that he is as far removed from Old England as the metropolis of Madrid, before he will be able to reconcile himself to all the wonders contained in the book. Here, two women pass through the whole play, without ex-
b 2[Page 4]citing the least suspicion of their sex, for two men—and, along with other as extraordinary incidents, a brother does not know his own sister, nor a lover his most beloved mistress, in familiar conference, because they are dressed in men's attire.³

But the trivial occurrence, from whence the following five acts are wholly produced, is the loss of a portmanteau;⁴ and it is most curious to watch the ingenuity of the author through all those intricate contrivances, and plausible explanations, by which, upon this slight incident, he continually baffles the wise plans of one party of his characters, by the crafty schemes of the other.

Humorous suspense, and more humorous surprise, are the reward of strict attention to the scenes of this drama—and, from the rising of the curtain till its falling, one comic event, will be found, artfully to create another; whilst the importance of each is augmented as each successively takes place; till the catastrophe, the most important of all, completes a work most whimsically conceived, and most skilfully conducted to its very close.

Those characters which have any peculiar mark of distinction, beyond what the happy occurrence of the moment produces, are Don Manuel, Trappanti, and Hypolita—one a father, the other a servant man, and the last a young lady in love.⁵ But these three personages, though all extremely pleasant on the stage, are, in their individual capacities, such as no child would revere, no master would trust, and no prudent man would take for a wife.

Considering all the failings of this play, in point of moral use,—or, more justly, its bias to immoral purpose—the attempt to draw a moral at its conclusion, is nearly as comic as any thing in the whole production. Hypolita, the chief cause and propagator of every deception practised, and every falsehood uttered, now, towards the end of the play, delivers an ostentatious sentiment upon the just punishment which has fallen on Don Manuel,—for his having formerly swerved from the paths of truth and honour, by a breach of promise.⁶

To sum up the merits of this comedy—no auditor or reader will be the wiser, or the better for it. Yet, he may possibly, after either seeing or reading it, be in a much better temper—For the bad man may rejoice that he here finds persons as bad as himself—and the good man will certainly rejoice, that he does not resemble any of them.