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Notwithstanding the very great success that on Monday last attended the production of a new piece at the Adelphi, called The Borgia Bing, the impression that it is a failure is now, we believe, pretty general. We need not, therefore, dwell long on its demerits. A very decided villain, wishing to destroy a will that keeps him out of a certain pro- perty, and is yet unread, entraps a young lady, who knows where it is kept, into an interview amid the massy relics of Stonehenge, designing first to possess himself of her secret, and afterwards to put her to death. But among the trinkets left by the testator the intended victim has found a ring containing the Borgia poison, which she puts on her finger, and this causes the villian, as he lays hands on her, to receive a wound, that ultimately results in his death. Ultimately we say, not rapidly, for the wretched man begins to die at the end of the first act., and in the last scene of the second, we find him dying still. To relieve this tale of horror the author has devised a comic underplot even more repulsive, the hero of which is a rat-catcher, who goes to an aristocratic ball, in female attire, and gets disgustingly drunk. Thus the serious interest is feeble, while the comic scenes are absolutely offensive, and the only thing that stands conspicuously above the general level, is the picture of Stonehenge, which is worthy of a much better piece. Some hyper. critics object to the ready assent of the young lady to meet a gentleman on Salisbury Plain, in the middle of a winter's night ; but this objection may be fairly considered ungrateful, since if the assignation had been made with reference to any other spot, we should have lost the sole in- teresting portion of the story.
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