Farquhar has what Vanbrugh wants--individuality. He seems to identify himself with his favourite characters, the heedless, dissolute, but gentlemanly and good-hearted sparks about town whom he so delights to portray, and hence wins a firmer place in our affections than his wittier and in every way stronger rival, who might have been a comic automaton for any idea of his personality that we are able to form. Whether the inevitable conception of Farquhar is really correct may be doubted; it is not in harmony with the few particulars which we possess of his manners and personal appearance. While reading him, nevertheless, one feels no doubt of the applicability to the author of the character of his Sir Harry Wildair, 'entertaining to others, and easy to himself, turning all passion into gaiety of humour.' The plays answer the description of the personage; they are lively, rattling, entertaining, and the humour is certainly much in excess of the passion. Serjeant Kite, in _The Recruiting Officer_, has become proverbial, otherwise no character has been recognized as an absolute creation, though almost all are natural and unaffected. _The Beaux' Stratagem_, his last play, is by common consent his best; it is assuredly admirable, from the truth and variety of the characters, and the pervading atmosphere of adventurous gaiety. The separation between Mr. and Mrs. Sullen is a good specimen of Farquhar's _vis comica_: '_Mrs. Sul._ Hold, gentlemen, all things here must move by consent, compulsion would spoil us; let my dear and I talk the matter over, and you shall judge it between us. _Squire Sul._ Let me know first who are to be our judges. Pray, sir, who are you? _Sir Chas._ I am Sir Charles Freeman, come to take away your wife. _Squire Sul._ And you, good sir? _Aim._ Charles Viscount Aimwell, come to take away your sister. _Squire Sul._ And you, pray, sir? _Arch._ Francis Archer, esquire, come---- _Squire Sul._ To take away my mother, I hope. Gentlemen, you're heartily welcome. I never met with three more obliging people since I was born!--And now, my dear, if you please, you shall have the first word. _Arch._ And the last, for five pound! _Mrs. Sul._ Spouse! _Squire Sul._ Rib! _Mrs. Sul._ How long have we been married? _Squire Sul._ By the almanac, fourteen months; but by my account, fourteen years. _Mrs. Sul._ 'Tis thereabout by my reckoning. _Count Bel._ Garzoon, their account will agree. _Mrs. Sul._ Pray, spouse, what did you marry for? _Squire Sul._ To get an heir to my estate. _Sir Chas._ And have you succeeded? _Squire Sul._ No. _Arch._ The condition fails of his side.--Pray, madam, what did you marry for? _Mrs. Sul._ To support the weakness of my sex by the strength of his, and to enjoy the pleasures of an agreeable society.